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byeoltoyuki · 1 year ago

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Yeah, I hate you too

↳ Pairing: Jisung x reader

❧ Genre: porn with little plot, enemies to lovers, enemies with benefits, fluff, fake texts

❧ Words: +3k

❧ Warnings: fingering, sexting (kind of), anal, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, spanking, masturbation, mention of toys

❧Summary : They think you're dating. Wrong. How could you date someone you hate so badly? Right?

❧ A/N: I wrote this on a whim and definitely didn't have time to proofread it, so I'm sorry if there's some mistakes. Hope you enjoy it either way!

***

“Where’s Jisung?” Changbin asked as his eyes darted back and forth between you and the empty spot beside him. Empty spot because it took Jisung only five minutes to find something better to do than be with his friends.

You shrugged, indifferent. “How would I know?”

“Aren’t you his girlfriend?”

Now that was confusing. “I’m not.” You scoffed at the idea.

You barely tolerated each other. The only reason you had been cordial, at best, with him was because he was Felix’s friend. The said man shook his head which only fuelled your annoyance. “What?” You took a sip of your drink to try to drown your annoyance and uneasy feeling.

Felix shook his head but the smug smile remained. The little shit. “Nothing.”

“You have this look!” You pointed at his face as if he had personally offended you. Well maybe a little. Nobody should be allowed to look this pretty.

“What look?”

“Felix.”

“Y/N.”

God, you loved your friend, you really did but he knew how to annoy the hell out of you. “What.is.it?”

Felix’s eyes shone brightly. And with mischief. He leant closer, arm brushing yours. “It’s cute how you think I don’t know about you and Jisung.” And he winked. The audacity.

You gasped loudly. “I’m not dating him!”

It wasn’t your intention to say it so loud and attract Changbin’s attention back on you. He quirked a brow at you and also leant closer, obviously interested in your statement. Fuck.

Felix’s smirk only widened. “Never said anything about dating.”

Fine. You had lied. You had a situationship with Han Jisung. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he annoyed you eighty percent of the time. But he sure knew how to use his mouth. And tongue. And cock. He got you addicted and you hated him even more for that.

Before you could share a piece of your mind with Felix, your phone’s screen lit. It distracted you. So easily.

At his message, you almost dropped your phone. Count on Han Jisung to be this blunt. But then again, it probably was one of the reason you gave in so easily the first time he approached you.

His words alone brought back the same images you had been trying so hard to forget. Six days, 144 hours, 8640 minutes and still unforgettable. It was one of those nights; you were stressed with deadlines and loneliness was getting the best of you too. But then Jisung came to your place without notice, as if he owned the place, and disturbed all your plans at self-loathing. You tried of course to kick him out of your place, kicking and screaming – all he did was throw you over his shoulder and slap your ass strong enough to make you yelp in surprise. He brought you to your room and threw you on your bed. You weren’t even in the mood for sex, no matter how good it always was with him, but the look he had when he stared down at you set your body on fire.

Did he spend hours, or at least it felt like hours, nestled between your legs, feasting on you, marking you, teasing you till you were just a whimpering mess at his mercy, crying and writhing, begging for a release he wasn’t willing to give because you weren’t being nice to him. Absolutely. You hated how responsive your body was to him. Hated how he knew where to push, where to lick, where to suck, where to bite to make your toe curl, to bring tears to your eyes, to make you scream his name. He loved it, so bad, when you screamed his name.

When Jisung finally let you come, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t see and your body were spent. You didn’t think you would recover from such a powerful, mind-blowing orgasm. You told him so, knowing damn well how smug he would be, how pleased.

“What got into you?” You asked him, panting. You watched him remove his clothes, one by one, taking his sweet time. It was odd. He never took his time. Han Jisung was impatient and too eager ninety-five percent of the time. So why now?

Jisung’s smile turned wicked which set your alarms on alert. He was up to something. Something bad. And also probably incredibly delicious. But could you really do it? You tried to move your legs and winced.

Jisung crawled back on the bed, slowly, enjoying the view of your sweaty body, and all the marks he had left on your thighs. Such a beautiful woman and all for him to ravish. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He admitted.

“And how is it my fault?” You scoffed and tried to sound unfazed. Your body disagreed. Your stomach flipped, excited.

Jisung hovered over you, his body trapping you under him, lips dangerously close yours but still not touching while his hand, his damn hand, slid slowly from your breasts to your stomach. Feather-like touches that sent shivers down your spine. But his hand didn’t stop on your stomach, it travelled to your abused, still incredibly sensitive pussy; your hips jerked in response and a small whine left your lips.

“No.” You tried to move your body to escape his touch.

But Jisung only smiled. “No? Hmm.” He teased your clit despite your protest and you grabbed his arms, digging your nails into his skin. “And it is your fault. I couldn’t erase the image of you flirting with this dude from the bar. He was awfully touchy with someone that isn’t his.” And he couldn’t resist the urge: he gave your pussy a slap. Strong enough to make you yelp in surprise, but not strong enough to hurt you.

You couldn’t believe he was being possessive. Was it the same guy you had been butting heads with for the past two years? Was it the same guy that begged you one night to let you eat you out because you looked too gorgeous in a red silky dress? “He wasn’t that touchy.” You tried to defend yourself even if he was right. He had been too touchy which had earnt him a kick in his balls later but Jisung didn’t need to know that. You wanted to see how far he was ready to go to show you who you belong to.

But Jisung saw right through you. With his free hand he grabbed your chin and forced you to look him in the eyes. “Yeah? He touched this,” And his hand reached your ass. He gave it a strong squeeze before landing a first slap. You didn’t think you could get any wetter but you fucking did. “And this ass belongs to me, Y/N. You know it right?”

You were dying to say ‘no’, you didn’t belong to him and your ass certainly didn’t. But all your fire, all your protests died on your tongue when you felt his fingers dangerously close to your other hole.

“I believe this is the only place I haven’t claimed, right?” He hummed in satisfaction.

“Jisung,” You called for him, but why? You couldn’t tell whether you were scared to try something new or if you were excited. Probably both. “I-“

His fingers slid back to your dripping pussy. He gathered your juices and spread them around your other hole. He pushed a finger inside your ass and you gasped loudly. “Oh my god.” You mewled, shutting your eyes.

You couldn’t believe it. It felt weird and new. And so fucking good.

“I knew you would love it.” He chuckled. “Always knew you would let me completely defile you, wouldn’t you?”

And he added another finger, pushing slowly, filling you, stretching you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You couldn’t possibly survive this. But you definitely wanted it. “Yes.” You admitted.

Jisung chuckled as his fingers worked their magic. “Say it. Say you want me to fuck your pretty, little ass.”

“Please,” You begged.

He pulled out his fingers, leaving you empty and open. “And?”

You took a deep breath, realizing that he wouldn’t give you what you wanted unless you said those damn words. “Please Jisung, fuck my ass. I need it. Right. Now.”

Jisung snickered and flipped you with ease on your stomach. “Was it that hard?”

“Yes, asshole.” You managed to snap back.

Jisung only laughed at your weak attempt to fight back. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to him. “Such a nasty mouth.” He gave your ass another strong slap. “I’ll fuck it later too.”

‘As if!’ You wanted to say. But you felt his cock pressing to your hole. You sucked in a breath, tensing.

Jisung stroked your ass, trying to sooth you. “Relax, babe.”

Even if your mind wanted to fight him, your body obeyed.

He pushed slowly, inch by inch, struggling to control himself but despite his own needs, he kept a close eye on you, watching your every breath, your every wince. He wanted this experience to be enjoyable for you too and he knew you would love it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You didn’t think you could stretch anymore. You didn’t think you could ever feel this full. But it was exactly how you felt.

With one last thrust, he pushed all the way in. He groaned and closed his eyes to savour the feel of you around his cock. So tight, so nice, so pretty.

You fisted the sheets, needing something to hold on to. Or to destroy.

He pulled out slowly only to push back in. “Fuck babe, you feel so fucking good. So good I could die. Fuck.”

Jisung took his time with you, his thrust slow and as gentle as possible. It hurt and you squeezed the sheets tightly. But it also felt divine. Quickly, you found yourself wanting more, needing more, to relieve the itch. So you pushed back and he smiled in delight.

“Someone is excited.” He commented.

You were and you didn’t care anymore. “Show me what you can do, pretty boy.” You provoked him.

Jisung halted and hovered over your back. His warm breath caressed your cheek and then your ear. “Remember that you asked for it.” And he slammed hard into you, picking up his pace.

“Shit.” You moaned loudly, unable to hold back.

Jisung showed you no mercy. Every thrusts shattered and remade you. Every thrusts brought pleasure unknown to you. You didn’t think you could feel this good. You didn’t know if it had anything to do with Jisung and you didn’t care anymore. You took everything he gave you; every push of his cock, every groan, every dig of his fingers into your skin.

Jisung’s fingers slid to your clit and you almost collapsed at the new sensation. His thrusts along with his fingers playing with your clit brought you to the edge quicker and with so much strength. You barely registered when your body tensed and completely let go. You simply split apart with a sharp cry, waves of pleasure wrecking your body.

“Such a good girl.” Jisung didn’t stop. He used your body to seek his own climax. “And I can’t fucking get enough of you. I hate you for that.” But you barely heard him, still lost to your own pleasure. “Fuck, fuck.” Jisung came with a loud groan, pulling out to paint your ass with his release.

Fuck. You clenched your thighs tightly at the unwanted memory. You squeezed your phone tightly in your grip as if it had personally offended you. Your face flushed and you cursed under your breath. You weren’t supposed to get all horny in the middle of the bar. You weren’t supposed to let Jisung affect you so badly. But boy you were.

You tried to save yourself with this message. The bar wasn’t crowded and the lights were dimmed. There was no way he could see your state or your blush. Right?

Fuck. Your panties were sticking uncomfortably to your skin. You were wet. Too fucking wet. You could ignore Jisung’s messages and suggestions, it was hella tempting since he was the one responsible for your state. Or you could leave and take care of your little problem without inviting him. That would piss him off and serve him right. You liked this plan better.

“I’m leaving.” You told Felix as you got back on your feet and readjusted your dress.

Felix eyed you with a cocked brow. “Why? You just go there.”

Something told you that whatever excuses you come out with, Felix wouldn’t believe you. Not when he was smirking like that. He knew something but you refused to delve into the matter. Nope. Not tonight. Not when your body was on fire. Not when your pussy was clenching desperately. “I’m tired.” You said and grabbed your bag.

“Tired.” Felix repeated your words with a poor imitation of your voice. “Sure thing, sweet. See you later.”

***

By the time you got to the safety of your home, your mind was plagued with images of Jisung between your legs. You couldn’t believe that your brain would think of him when you could have pictured anyone, anything. But you didn’t fight back those thoughts. You didn’t have time nor the will. Your body was too needy.

You took your heels and threw them somewhere on the ground. You hurried to get rid of your dress and your, now, completely ruined panties. I’ll make him pay another time. You threw yourself on your bed and readjusted your pillows to get as comfortable as possible.

A deep sigh of relief escaped your parted lips. Finally. You closed your eyes, Jisung’s face immediately invaded your thoughts and you let him. You let the image of him guide your hand to your breast and to your hard nipples that were begging for attention. You squeezed and pinched and let out small moans. You relaxed instantly, revelling in the different sensations.

You let your hand slid slowly from your breast to your stomach, drawing invisible circles on your skin before reaching between your legs, the place that most needed your attention. You took it slow; gentle rubs, circling your clit, letting the pleasure spread all over your body. Your fingers slipped inside your soaked pussy and you arched your back, imaging that it wasn’t your fingers but the most annoying person’s ones.

“Fuck.” You mewled.

“Now that’s a sight I’m not ready to ever forget.” Jisung’s annoying (sweet) voice interrupted your thoughts.

Your eyes snapped open and you almost jolted out of your bed. “What the fuck?!”

No. He couldn’t possibly be there. How could he? Were you that tired that somehow you started hallucinating? But no, as you looked at him standing by your door, licking his lips, his eyes darker than ever, you realized that he was not a piece of your imagination. “What, how?”

Jisung twirled the keys to your place and smirked. “Spare keys.”

You frowned, your dizzy mind having a hard time to catch up with his words. “I didn’t give you the spare keys to my place.”

Jisung nodded. “No. you didn’t.” He put them back in his pocket, proud of the effect he had on you. His eyes quickly slid to your spread legs and you realized too late that he had a perfect view of the mess you were. “Felix gave me the keys.”

The little shit! You knew he was up to something. You would make sure to make him pay later for not minding his damn business.

“Don’t be so angry, babe.” Jisung cooed, reading your emotions so easily. “Instead, show me how you play with yourself, hm?”

The ache between your legs returned so quick it almost knocked you out. This man and his voice had such a strong hold on you. You couldn’t help but obey and forget all about your annoyance.

“Tell me, what were you imagining while having your fingers inside this sweet pussy, hm?” Jisung asked as he watched your fingers disappear inside you. He licked his lips, drooling at the beautiful sight. He wanted nothing more than replace your fingers with his and with his tongue but for once, he fought his own needs. He grabbed the chair in the corner of your room at put it right before your bed so he could have the best view.

“You.”

“Me?” He feigned surprise. “And what exactly was I doing in your imagination?”

“You were sucking on my clit with those pretty lips of yours while your fingers were stretching me nicely.”

“Shit.” Jisung groaned to himself. He could imagine it so easily. He unzipped his jeans and took out his hard cock dripping already with pre-cum. Jisung fell into rhythm with you, matching your energy as he worked his hand around his cock. “Add another finger.”

And you obeyed. “Look at me.” He ordered. And you did once again. You moaned at the sight. You didn’t think watching Jisung touch himself would fuel your own desire, your own pleasure but it did. You almost came right on the spot.

But the itch was still there. No matter how hard you played with yourself you were still unsatisfied. You couldn’t reach as deep as he could. “Jisung. Please. I need you.”

Jisung chuckled. “Do you now? I think you’re doing pretty well on your own.” But truth was, he needed you too. So fucking badly. He needed, desperately, to sink his cock inside your pussy. He needed to feel your walls around his cock, squeezing him, begging for more.

“Am not. I need you. Please.” You begged shamelessly. You took out your fingers and spread your pussy for him to see. “Look. I need you.”

Jisung gulped, his willpower slowly crumbling. How could he resist now? “Me? Or my cock?”

“Both. Please?”

Jisung ruffled his hair in frustration. “Fuck.” He left his spot, hurried to take all of his clothes and almost jumped on your bed. He grabbed your legs with so much strength, you yelped in surprise. He spread you wider for him. He let his fingers slid from your clit to your entrance, testing how wet you were. “Babe, you’re dripping. All for me?”

“All for you.”

“So pretty.” He took his cock and nudged it playfully against your pussy, making you mewl and push your hips in need. “And mine.” He plunged inside you with one powerful thrust that made the two of you groan.

You closed your eyes, feeling all of him. Hard and deep inside you. And so damn perfect. A part of you didn’t want it to feel so good but the one that didn’t care, savoured the stretch, the fullness.

“Y/N, I think I’m in love.” Jisung confessed as he pulled out slowly, letting you feel every inch of him, torturing you with how slow and gentle he was. You didn’t want slow. You didn’t want gentle. Not when you were so consumed with need and lust. You wanted him to wreck you.

“With me or my pussy?” You managed to joke and chocked when he slammed back. “Fuck.” You arched your back. He sure knew how to make you shut your mouth.

Jisung didn’t answer your question and you forgot all about it as he started thrusting. Just like you hoped and prayed. Hard. Deep. Making you hold your sheets tightly as you met his thrusts with your own.

“Harder.” You begged unable to think about anything else but him and his cock deep inside you.

“As you wish.” His grip on you tightened, fingers digging into your skin that would leave marks – you didn’t care. You let him use you as he saw fit. You let him pound into you.

The sound of his grunts, of your moans and slap of skin was slowly driving you mad. The rhythm he set got you writhing and begging for release in no time. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him against you, feeling his body crashing you under him, as you claimed his mouth in a desperate and needy kiss. You felt him smile against your mouth, damn proud of your state.

“I hate you.” You bit on his lips and he fought back with a powerful thrust. “So fucking,” And another. “Much.” And another.

Jisung kissed you back with as much needs. He was just as desperate for release as you were and so damn close. He tried to distract himself, to keep his control. He needed you to come. Right fucking now. One hand slipped between your bodies and he played with your clit as he kept pounding into you. Pinching it. Rubbing it. He left you no choice. He pushed you over the edge.

“Fuck!” Your back arched as your orgasm slammed into you. Your whole body shuddering as Jisung didn’t stop. He fucked you through your release, not slowing down even for a second. And you held onto him, strong and tight, and watched as he lost himself to his own pleasure. You watched him close his eyes as he slammed one last time and released himself.

Jisung slowly pulled out of you and took a second to admire his work. Your fucked up face. Your sweaty body. Your abused, dripping pussy. “Bloody hell. So damn beautiful.” He couldn’t stop himself from pushing back his fingers into your sensitive pussy to push back his cum inside you.

“Don’t. I can’t.” You begged and wriggled, trying to escape his dangerous fingers. You were completely and utterly spent. You couldn’t take more. But telling this to Jisung wasn’t your brightest idea. It only fuelled him more.

“But you look so pretty and yummy. How can a man resist?” And he brought his fingers to his mouth. Covered with both his and yours release. You gawked at him at you swore your pussy clenched again with need at the sight. He cleaned his fingers, humming in satisfaction.

“By the way,” He rolled to the side and pulled your body flushed against him. “I think I’m in love with both.” He admitted and kissed your head. “You and your pussy.”

You couldn’t believe him. He sure knew how to woo a woman. “Such a romantic.”

Jisung smiled sheepishly at you. “Isn’t it why you like me?”

“Tolerate you at best.” But you hid your face into his chest, refusing to show him your pink cheeks or the smile that spread on your face.

“Liar.”

“Fuck you.”

“You already did. But we can do it again.” Jisung was in a mood. “So I can show you just how much I love you. And how much you love me too.”

Yeah. You liked the sound of it.

#stray kids #han jisung #stray kids smut #han #stray kids x reader #han jisung x reader #skz smut #stray kids fic #stray kids fake texts #stray kids imagine #yeah i hate you too

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bernardsbendystraws · 1 month ago

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You Don’t Own Me

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: COPYRIGHT NOTICE. PLEASE READ AND LOOK UP DEFINITIONS OF WARNINGS FOR FURTHER CLARIFICATION. HUGE TW FOR THIS CHAPTER. CSA (only mentioned, not described), heavy angst, mentions of family death and family issues, fluff, crying, kissing, comfort, cuddling

A/N: J-Dawg has my heart goddamn. Slightly shorter (it's like 7 pages)

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Part 28: Aches

She’s home. My mom had gotten back into town yesterday and Baylen told me she knows that I’m aware of everything now—all the lies, all the betrayal, all of the truth. Apparently she wants to talk to me. Now that I know everything, she actually wants to have a conversation.

The thought of her so willing to finally be honest makes my skin itch with irritation. I can’t believe this—years of everything being fake. What else was a lie? How much has my own mother betrayed me?

“You look bummed. Not enough bacon this morning?” Chris jokes, plopping on the couch next to me.

His hand immediately lands on my thigh, instinctively pulling my leg over his lap before starting to massage just above my knee. Touch was something I found myself being more hesitant on, but his touch never made me feel anything but safe and loved.

I focus on the sensation of his fingers rubbing over my skin, the warmth of his hand radiating over every inch of my body with a smothering comfort. My eyes linger on my leg in his lap, drifting upward as I inch my gaze towards his face, a blush covering my face as I notice how intently he’s staring at me.

A dry huff hums through my lips at his playful statement. This morning, he had made me plenty of bacon, purposefully luring me out of my bed so I would cuddle on the couch with him.

And it worked. My nose made my sleepy body walk towards the scent of bacon with a hazy yearning for the food.

Chris fed me on the couch until we both eventually fell asleep. He seems really tired recently. Part of me has wondered if he’s been able to sleep at night, but another part of me wonders why he hasn’t invited me to sleep in his room.

It’s been awhile since we had a true sleepover—almost a week. I’d see him for a brief moment before school and then we would hang out afterwards, except when I was working on assignments or my project I still needed to fully complete with Shawn.

“I can make more if you want,” Chris teases, leaning forward until his nose slightly brushes the tip of my own.

The corners of my lips twist upward with delight, my eyes narrowing as I feel his breath fan across my face.

Something about the way he’s looking at me makes me feel alive, completely immersed in the present moment. It’s like my heart is beating for one purpose and one purpose only—to be seen and no pressure for anything else.

“I’m okay, but thank you.” I mention, my nose wrinkling as he spares me a sympathetic glance.

A moment passes. I feel his hands freeze while gliding along my calves. My eyes drift up to see his face scrunched with an unreadable emotion.

His hands retract as if he’s been burned. I feel my legs fall as he stands up, clearing his throat and keeping his eyes trained on the ground.

Something has been different. It feels like everytime we sit long enough in silence, he thinks too much—he thinks about something that makes him pull away.

“I’m gonna, uh—I’m gonna go to my room,” he says, walking off down the hallway without a second glance.

___

It’s quiet. The night is at an all time silent, the subtle noise of shaking branches and ruffling leaves the only sort of echo. It’s really late. I know I shouldn’t be up, I have school tomorrow, but I couldn’t sleep.

Not after the phone call I got.

It was from my mother. I was startled by my phone ringing after getting ready for bed. She kept asking me to come home so she could explain, she kept begging for me to listen—but, I couldn’t face her.

I told her to talk. I struggled to comprehend the words, but I heard her loud and clear.

She didn’t know at first. My mom thought it was so wholesome how much my dad loved me, she thought it was sweet.

That changed at some point. She realized things were not adding up.

And she ignored it.

“-I was in shock! I–I loved him, I had his children—I married him. I wanted to believe he was the man I loved and…and he just…wasn’t.”

She was in shock. My own mother couldn’t protect me because she refused to confront reality—she couldn’t take care of me since she didn’t wanna see the truth.

She cared more for a cowardly, fake man than she did for me—her innocent child. Calling her mom doesn’t even feel right. Part of me is tempted to just label her by her first name—Rylie.

Rylie is alive.

My mom is dead.

I feel a warm hand land on my shoulder. My foggy eyes stay trained in front of me as I feel a body sit next to me on the porch steps.

“You okay, kid?” Jimmy asks, nudging his shoulder onto mine briefly.

He means well. I know he has good intentions, but the question hurts. In what world would I be okay?

Shrugging, I let out a sigh, shaking my head. “Not really.”

I don’t have it in myself to act strong or lie. My heart feels like dead weight in my chest, a numb void that makes everything feel so empty. It’s dark outside, but even the slight vibrance doesn’t seem to look the same anymore. Everything is dull.

The louder the wind gets, the harder it gets as I try to blink back the heavy tears resting on my waterline. I’ve already cried so much. My eyes feel sore.

“Haven’t been sleeping good, have you?” he asks.

I shake my head, sighing as I let out a dry huff. “No, not really. I mean…it’s hard…sleeping…” I trial off, my face furrowing with frustration as I hold back depression words.

It’s hard sleeping because it doesn’t feel safe—especially alone. All I’ve wanted is to feel secure. I know Chris brings that feeling of safety, but he hasn’t even hinted at wanting me to stay in his bed—he’s barely even had us hang out in his room.

He wants me, he loves me, and he’s there for me—but there’s something holding him back—something making him pull away. I can’t tell what it is.

My body is impossibly stiff. The warmth of Jimmy’s hand lands on my shoulders, a heavy breath pushing through his lips as I feel something in the pit of my gut start to vibrate with anxiety.

“It…it’s—’s too much,” I cry, a sharp gasp echoing through the air before I feel Jimmy pull me into his arms, petting my head as he lets me cry into his chest.

I cover my face with my hands, letting him hold me while trying to suck in enough air to feel satisfied. It doesn’t work—not anymore.

No amount of deep breaths or fresh air would ever heal this feeling. I’m not sure anything would ever make me feel better. It hurts to admit, but it’s true.

“I know, kid, I know,” he puffs, holding me tighter, his hand cradling the back of my head.

My shaky breaths calm into tired sighs. I pull away, rubbing my face aggressively as I feel him rub my shoulder reassuringly. It doesn’t ache as much when I’m around someone. At least I don’t have to feel as alone with someone being there.

“What can I do to help?”

Jimmy’s question lingers in the air like fog. I open my mouth to respond, but my throat closes in on itself. I have no answer. Not one that could possibly make sense.

I hear the porch door creak open. My head doesn’t lift, but Jimmy’s gaze shifts over my shoulder.

There’s a pause, a breath of silence that weighs heavier than the conversation that came before it.

“Hey,” Chris says quietly.

His voice is soft, cautious. I blink, still staring forward, my fingers twitching at the sound.

Jimmy shifts, his hand giving my shoulder one last squeeze before he stands. “I’ll give you two a minute,” he murmurs, and then his footsteps retreat into the house, the door clicking gently behind him.

Chris doesn’t sit right away. I can feel him hovering, unsure.

“I couldn’t sleep either,” he finally says, stepping closer. “Then I noticed you weren’t in the guest room, so I checked outside.”

I don’t say anything, but I tilt my head to glance at him. He’s wearing a hoodie, the strings loosely dangling, hands stuffed into the front pocket. His eyes are glued to the wooden planks beneath our feet.

“I saw you with my dad,” he adds. “Didn’t want to interrupt.”

“I don’t mind,” I whisper.

He looks up at that. His eyes soften, flickering with something deep and sad. “Can I… walk you back in?”

I nod. He offers a hand and I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. We don’t talk as we go inside. The house is dim and still, and everything feels too loud even when it’s silent.

He leads me down the hallway, and instead of stopping at the guest room, he walks past it and opens the door to his own.

I hesitate in the doorway.

He turns, noticing, and rubs the back of his neck. “I, uh… I haven’t asked you to sleep in here lately,” he begins, his voice low. “Not because I didn’t want to. I did—I do.”

I stare at him, my hands fidgeting at my sides.

Chris takes a breath and steps a little closer. “I didn’t want to do anything that might…well, trigger you. After everything, I thought maybe giving you space was safer. But I should’ve asked. I should’ve talked to you about it instead of pulling away.”

My chest tightens. I feel the sting of tears again, but this time it’s different. Not angry, not despairing—just full.

“I understand why you thought that,” I say. “But I don’t need space from you. I need you. You’re…you’re the only place I feel okay right now, Chris. And I know—I know that’s a lot, but…” I trail off, swallowing the lump forming in my throat.

Chris doesn’t wait for me to finish. He steps forward and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into the kind of hug that says everything words can’t.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers into my hair. “You don’t ever have to explain needing me. I’m yours. However you need me.”

I sink into him, burying my face into his chest. I feel his lips press gently to the crown of my head before he walks me toward the bed, pulling the blankets back.

We climb in together, and it’s the first time in days that I feel like I can really breathe.

His arm circles my waist, my back against his chest, and I feel the slow rise and fall of his breathing as it steadies mine.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

I nod, eyes fluttering closed, his voice like a blanket wrapped around my shivering bones.

For the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself fall asleep without any lingering fear. Any and all worries fade as I sink into the overwhelming comfort of his arms cradling me against him.

I’m hurt—beyond words, beyond tears, and beyond anything imaginable. The feelings in my chest are indescribably painful. It’s like my heart is pulsing in an overbearing way.

In his arms, it doesn’t feel as intense or intimidating. The familiar pulse against my chest feels like an ache of healing.

It feels safe to just feel.

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daargraves · 1 month ago

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Something that I'm very interested about is why and when the S1 archive crew joined the institute in the first place. I was planning for a fanfic and that made me looking through their wiki and reread the transcripts.

Jon and Tim are easy, both had been mentioned in the podcast.

Jon had mentioned being a researcher for 4 years by the time canon happened, which took place in 2015, which means he joined in 2011. As for the reason, well, A Guest for Mr. Spider. I don't think it was ever mentioned specifically but I think it's very clear that he wanted to know more about the Leitners.

Tim took a bit of thinking, in the "when". The incident of his brother took place in August, 2013. We can assume that mean he joined the institute around late 2013, because he left his publishing job to find out what happened to Danny. Which, I'm gonna be honest, surprised me when I first saw it.

Every fanfic I've ever read seems to make Tim already working in the institute when Jon joined, which is not true, Tim joined 2 years after Jon. I do understand the confusion, Tim and Sasha feels much closer to each other than Jon to either of them, so you would think they know each other for way longer than with Jon. I guess there's a possibility that Tim already knew Sasha before the institute and maybe she is the reason he knew it existed in the first place. Either way, it's a gripe for me now if anyone mentioned Tim being in the institute for longer than Jon.

Martin, we know why, he's a drop out that needs a job because of his mom. Elias most definitely knew that he lied on his CV and hired him anyway because no one will miss him and he can use him or something, perhaps even because he thought it would be interesting to put someone with a big secret to work in a place that was made for a god of getting secrets out of people. As for when, however, it was never mentioned. We can make a guess, he was mentioned to have seen a statement giver from 2009, so he's already work for the institute in 2009 at the latest, and judging by him being 29 in 2016, he dropped out in 2004. Meaning by the time he was transferred to the archive, he had worked for appoximately between 6-11 years. Which mean, also, he is potentially the one that worked in the institute the longest.

Now, we get to the one who we know nothing at all, Sasha. The only thing we know is that she at first worked in artefact storage for 3 months before transferring to research. She said she had been in academia for 10 years, but that doesn't necessarily mean she had been working at the institute for that long, because she said "I’ve been in academia" and not "I’ve been working here". Of course, it's up to interpretation. We know she knew Gertrude and had talked to her, but knowing Gertrude, this is probably in 2011, after Emma died. I do believe she most likely had been there for longer than Jon, since that could also made her more qualified for the Head Archivist position (if this is a normal job). My personal belief is she started working there around 2009/2010. For the "why"... Sasha never mentioned ever having an encounter before Michael, so that's probably not it. She most likely joined because it's a research job. She also mentioned she couldn't afford to quit after artefact storage, so she was probably also desperate for a job, just like Martin.

Then again, we all know how fucked the timeline is in TMA (looking at you, Jonny) so maybe the "when" are all completely incorrect, who knows!

┐(°∀°)┌

If anyone had any thoughts or corrections, feel free to share! - 💻

#fandomtalk #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tim stoker #martin blackwood #sasha james #rambles #i miss them...#my beloved s1 archive crew T.T

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lune-moon-nuit · 2 months ago

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"...cause I love her and I CAN'T LOSE her AGAIN"

“I'm just trying to demonstrate how careless Max is with Eleven's powers. In fact, how careless all of you are. You're treating her like some kind of machine when she's not a machine, and I don't want her to die looking for the flayed when they've obviously vanished off the face of the Earth. So can we please just come up with a new plan because I love her and I can't lose her again.”

Mike’s most quoted line in Season 3 — “Because I love her and I can’t lose her again” — is often cited as definitive proof of his love for Eleven. But this statement, when viewed in full context, is a trauma response rather than a heartfelt romantic confession.

What’s hilarious is that the reason why he said that is literally in the sentence itself: the trauma. It’s ironic that this scene is being used as the ultimate proof, when in reality, it perfectly illustrates Mike’s core issue. The trauma of having watched her sacrifice herself to protect him, after he’d spent the entire first season urging her to use her powers (he literally said it in season 1 that she was a weapon). What pushed him to say this was the accumulation of all the unresolved trauma he experienced throughout Seasons 1 and 2—and that doesn’t exactly strengthen your argument, because…

The trauma begins in Season 1. Mike forms a fast, intense bond with Eleven while Will is missing. He projects his grief, fear, and protective instincts onto her.

Expanding upon the notion that trauma lies at the heart of Mike and Eleven's relationship, it's significant to note that the moment Mike kisses Eleven in Season 1 occurs on the very same day he effectively attempted suicide by leaping into the quarry—an act from which she rescued him. From that point forward, he perceives himself as entirely indebted to her. Not only had he already idealized her as his only hope of finding Will, but she now embodied the literal reason he was still alive. Layered atop this is the influence of those around him—Lucas, Dustin, and even Nancy—who had begun to suggest he harbored romantic feelings toward her. Combined with his own confused emotions, the pedestal upon which he placed her from the very beginning due to the almost mythic timing of her arrival in his life, it constructs what appears to be a perfect narrative. And as a Dungeon Master and an aspiring storyteller, Mike is especially susceptible to such emotionally charged, almost archetypal storylines. Within this context, it becomes entirely plausible that he would interpret his overwhelming emotions—rooted in trauma, gratitude, and projection—as romantic love. That this kiss occurred on the very day of a near-death experience he never references again (and may never have shared with anyone besides those present) underscores the depth of repression and denial involved. Fundamentally, their relationship is born out of mutual trauma and survivor’s guilt. It is a structure of codependency rather than genuine romantic affection. Personally, I believe that had Mike not jumped into the quarry, and had Eleven not saved him, he would not have kissed her that night.

From the moment Eleven disappears at the end of Season 1 after using her powers to save him and their friends, Mike internalizes guilt and blame. He had encouraged her to keep using her powers, to push herself, and to fight — and she seemingly died because of it. He urges her to use her powers repeatedly, culminating in her presumed death. For nearly a year, Mike believes she died because he pushed her too far, he grieved her, believing it was his fault. This established a psychological pattern of guilt and a compulsive need to protect her, not because of romantic love, but as a trauma response.

If he truly loved her romantically, he would’ve reacted with joy and emotional fulfillment at the end of Season 3, when El told him she heard what he said and that she loves him too. He would’ve kissed her back, smiled, said something, even if he was surprised. The truth of that scene is, ironically, a perfect summary of how Mike—his point of view and his emotions—is misunderstood by the other characters and also by the audience. Because he is incapable of truly communicating or expressing his emotions.

That scene is literally Mike breaking down in a full-blown panic, triggered by his unresolved trauma: the fear of loss and abandonment caused by Will’s disappearance in Season 1, El’s absence and presumed death in Season 2, the helplessness of watching Will be possessed and nearly die, the massacre at the lab (gosh let’s be honest, Michael Wheeler urgently needs therapy, I did a post cut in two part : here and here who develop more and where I was already mentioning how this scene says a lot about Mike mental health), and finally, his survivor’s guilt for having encouraged El to use her powers to the point where she “died” right before his powerless eyes. This scenario is a mirror of Season 1's climax, and Mike’s panic reveals a deep-rooted fear of repeating past events.

For a whole year, he believed he was the reason El was dead. And the very argument that triggered that line was literally about whether or not El should keep pushing herself and her powers to the limit to stop Billy—when she had already nearly died doing exactly that. So yes, when Mike says, "Because I love her and I CAN’T LOSE HER AGAIN," it's true. Because, breaking news: Mike does love El. He deeply cares about her. He feels the need to protect her. He carries immense guilt over what happened to her, which only amplifies his desperate need to protect her now and avoid repeating the same mistake that, in his eyes, led to her "death"—a death that felt absolutely real to him.

When faced with the possibility of losing El again in Season 3, Mike's fear resurfaces—not because he is madly in love, but because he cannot emotionally survive another loss for which he feels responsible (he is just 14 here remember). The panic in his voice, the overwhelming urgency of “I can’t lose her again,” reveals that it is not romantic love driving him—it is fear, shame, and unresolved grief. This is compounded by his lack of romantic follow-through when she returns. There is no joy, no emotional intimacy, no physical warmth. Instead, there is distance, awkwardness, and emotional shutdown.

But the real truth in that line isn’t even the “because I love her” part—because nothing in that moment confirms he's saying it romantically (especially since he can’t even say it to her face, can’t write it to her, and still can’t say it even after she confirmed that she loves him and heard him say it). So yes, he loves her, just like he loves Lucas, just like he loves Nancy, just like he loves Dustin.

What truly matters in that sentence is: “and I CAN’T lose her AGAIN.” And those are the words he emphasizes. Not “because I love her”—that part is rushed, buried in the flood of words he’s pouring out mid-panic. But he clearly articulates and stresses “and I CAN’T lose her AGAIN.”

Everything is shown here—not told—through his words, his body language, his tone, the context. His trauma is triggered. He’s terrified. He’s trying to prevent history from repeating itself, because the current situation feels too much like the Season 1 finale from his perspective.

So no, it wasn’t romantic love that drove him to say that. It was unresolved, ignored trauma being violently reactivated. The only difference lies in how people interpret that line—be it other characters or the audience—through the lens of heteronormativity, completely ignoring the full context and everything that follows in Mike’s behavior and attitude toward El.

It could’ve been cute, and could’ve worked in your favor—if the show had ended with that episode. But unfortunately, the Season 3 finale and the entirety of Season 4 only go on to confirm that yes, he loves her and he can’t lose her again, but he doesn’t love her romantically, and he is deeply traumatized and in need of healing from his abandonment and loss issues—or else Vecna’s going to have an easy time with him.

If Mike were truly in love with Eleven, one would expect expressions of that love to come naturally, especially in moments of emotional vulnerability. Yet, at the end of Season 3, when Eleven tells him she heard what he said and that she loves him too, Mike gives no response. He looks stunned, confused, almost empty. He does not affirm her words, kiss her back, or show any sign of romantic fulfillment. Mike’s behavior in these scenes doesn’t resemble a boy in love. It resembles a boy in distress, one who is playing a role he feels obligated to fulfill, but who cannot emotionally connect with that role.

This pattern continues in Season 4. He avoids writing “Love, Mike” (and write every time "From Mike" instead) in letters, despite knowing it’s what Eleven needs to hear. When confronted, he dodges and manipulates: “I say it”. But we, the audience (and El too), know that he doesn’t. His behavior is not that of a loving boyfriend, but of someone trapped in a role he doesn’t know how to escape from. His “I love you” speech in Volume 2 is prompted not by genuine passion, but by external pressure, specifically by Will’s emotionally charged metaphorical painting (that channels Will’s own feelings for him) and pep talk and his finally staged encouragement ("don't stop, remember, you are the heart ! You're the heart"). The words are performative, desperate, idealized—not grounded in emotional truth. He praises a version of Eleven that no really exists, emphasizing her strength and powers, not her vulnerability, her personality, or her heart. This suggests he is in love with the idea of her—an idea shaped by admiration, yes, but especially guilt and obligation, not affection (further alienating her and reinforcing that his attachment is conditional and performative).

So yes, if the only two times your boyfriend tells you he loves you are:

– once, when you're not physically present, and he says it in a panicked trauma response, then refuses to take ownership of those words afterwards,

– and the second time is only after you told him that never hearing it from him is hurting you, and you need to hear it—and instead of reassuring you, he gaslights you into thinking he says it when he clearly doesn’t, dodges the subject by idealizing you as a superhero…

…and this “I love you” only comes when you’re on the brink of death, and only because his best friend handed him a painting with a disguised declaration of love in it?

Then I’m sorry, but that’s not romance. That’s codependency, guilt, trauma, emotional repression, and societal expectations. Not romantic love.

The relationship between Mike and El has long been framed through a heteronormative lens, one that presumes emotional closeness between a boy and a girl must equate to romantic attraction. The show’s framing and marketing often push this narrative, but Mike’s behavior consistently subverts it. His discomfort with physical affection, his emotional volatility, and his failure to express romantic feelings — even when prompted — all suggest that this narrative is externally imposed, not internally felt.

The audience’s insistence on seeing “Because I love her and I can't lose her again” as a definitive romantic confession overlooks the complexity of Mike’s trauma, his guilt, and his emotional repression. It ignores the fact that he never says it to Eleven directly until forced to, and even then, it is with inauthentic language and shaky motivation. The tragedy is that Mike’s real love story — one rooted in slow-burn intimacy, shared vulnerability, and mutual understanding — is with Will. But because it doesn’t fit the traditional mold, it goes unacknowledged by both the characters and the audience.

Mike Wheeler is not a romantic lead blindly in love with Eleven. He is a traumatized boy burdened by guilt, struggling with self-identity, repressing his true feelings, and unconsciously projecting protectiveness as love. His actions toward Eleven are rooted in trauma, not desire, while his connection with Will reveals the kind of emotional intimacy that speaks to a deeper, romantic truth. Until Mike confronts his trauma and his sexuality, he will continue to play a role that does not align with who he truly is — a boy in love, not with the girl who saved him, but with the boy who always understood him.

Mike is not a character who lacks love—on the contrary, he feels deeply. But his emotional repression, unresolved trauma, and fear of loss lead him to confuse guilt with devotion, and obligation with romance. His relationship with Eleven is a product of circumstance and narrative expectation—but it lacks the emotional reciprocity, intimacy, and authenticity of true romantic love. Meanwhile, his emotional world orbits around Will, whose presence brings out the rawest, most vulnerable, and most honest version of Mike.

In truth, Mike doesn’t need a girlfriend—he needs healing. He needs to confront his guilt, allow himself to feel, and to stop hiding behind a version of love that doesn’t belong to him. Only then will he be able to understand what love really is—and who it’s truly for.

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brainwormcity · 1 year ago

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I've seen people remark on how awkward the 1967 scene is and that is so frustrating because, for me, it is one of the most emotionally resonant flashbacks in the entire series. It is so multifaceted and ripe with implication and that assertion is baffling. As though just because this conversation appears to be hard for them, it must mean that there has to be some sense of weirdness or awkwardness between them?

This scene feeds heavily into my theory that 1941 ended in some sort of aborted romantic moment between the two, most likely initiated by Crowley. Aziraphale can barely stand to look at Crowley because the very first moment he looks him in the face, he can't stop himself from giving him this hooded eyes, barely contained look of longing.

The next thing we see is Aziraphale immediately launching into a statement about his fear for Crowley's existence that is as brutally sincere as it is heartrending. His eyes are wide, his voice is heavy with emotion, and it's clear that he is terrified beyond belief to lose Crowley. Even as he acquiesces and gives him the holy water, you can see that he wants to take it back and deny him it all over again.

Then, of course, Crowley asks if he can give him a lift, which is definitely something that they both know is a totally different question than what lies on the surface, given that they're mere feet from the bookshop and at first Crowley frowns so deeply that it's almost cartoonish but a moment after Aziraphale turns him down you get this glimpse of very real sadness:

Aziraphale sees it for what it is and in an attempt to comfort him, without being able to do what currently seems impossible to him, shares a fanciful but resigned fantasy about spending time together unbothered and unrestrained, all to the tune of these tight little, loving smiles:

When he asks again, you can just see Crowley's desperation for Aziraphale not to go. It's hard to say how long they'd been apart, but it's safe to say that for them, that previous interaction likely is very fresh in their minds.

Aziraphale has always been more fearful than Crowley when it comes to their feelings for each other. You could even potentially look at the holy water as a metaphor for their relationship. In his expressions of concern about The Arrangement, Aziraphale has always been remarking on how Crowley could be destroyed, similarly to his words here. So when he's telling him, "You go too fast for me, Crowley," what he's really saying is, "I'm terribly afraid and I'm not ready to take that step if it means that I could lose you." And it's plain to see by the wistful look on his face that it pains him greatly to say it:

The scene so quickly cuts to Crowley looking intensely at the holy water after Aziraphale has left the car (as if trying to convince you that that was the real point of the scene) that it's easy to miss this devastated expression on Crowley's face:

There's no look of perceived rejection on his face. Just a somber look of resignation. There are so many barriers in front of them, and I think that Crowley was willing to risk it but understood that Aziraphale wasn't ready to.

This is the most honest and laid bare we ever see these two be when it comes to their emotions. There's so much being said without being said and even their actual words (i.e. Crowley remembering exactly the amount of time when the 'fraternizing' conversation happened) are so full of emotion that it might even be a bit hard for some people to watch.

It's not awkward. It's just that the scene is just so incredibly earnest and heavy with coded language that it's easy to be swept up by the fact that the two aren't engaged in their typical banter and bickering. What we truly have here is an incredibly difficult and loving conversation between two people who are stuck in a seemingly impossible situation.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #michael sheen #david tennant #good omens meta #abel talks meta #good omens through the ages #good omens 1967 #signed by an autistic pwBPD with a penchant for over-analyizing tone and body language #anthony j crowley #you go too fast for me crowley

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fairyofhee · 2 years ago

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ONE OF YOUR GIRLS.

PAIRING. heeseung x afab!reader

SYNOPSIS. It was difficult to contradict the rumors of you being obsessed with Lee Heeseung. But it was all true that you had a huge crush and a few wild fantasies about him. You were aware of his infamous reputation of how many girls he’s taken to his bed, yet you still wanted to be one of his.

WARNINGS. angst, fluff, contains smut! MINORS DNI. first time, fingering, unprotected sex, pull-out method. 7k words.

It started happening a few days ago when you heard the whispers of people making unsettling remarks about you. Apparently, you were obsessed with Lee Heeseung.

But the rumors were not true. You barely acknowledged Lee Heeseung’s existence, you certainly do not have the biggest crush on him, and most definitely didn’t have the fantasy to fuck him. These are wild statements to come out of someone’s mouth, but those were just rumors.

Well, that’s what you wanted people to think. It’s true that you have a crush on Heeseung, a huge one that gives you constant butterflies, in fact. It started off as small feelings in middle school because you just found him cute. Then in high school, you started to gain real feelings, an admiration for him. He was the smartest dude in school, the captain of the basketball team, and he was always soft spoken and sweet to anyone he talked to. It was impossible not to fall for him.

With all these years of having these feelings, you barely talked to him, even if being in the same circle of friends. Though, things started to change this school year. The friend group started to hang out often since ways would be parted for college next year. You and Heeseung started talking more and you even got to know each other better, which made you hopeful for something more.

But soon, you were met with bitterness, a feeling close to heartbreak. He started getting distant from everyone — especially from you. You overheard from the chatters around school that Heeseung was a major fuckboy now who slept with the girls at school. You never judged him, despite the aches in your chest that it caused.

The girls who slept with him would brag about how good he was. Heeseung, the sweet guy he is, was the sweetest in bed. And as much as it tarnishes your self worth and disregards the deep feelings you have, you didn’t mind the idea of being his just for one night, let alone a few hours.

You just wanted to be one of his girls.

You slammed your locker closed and was met with Heeseung who had a sly grin on his face.

“So, should I take you to my place tonight? Or do you prefer if I take you on a date first?”

You haven’t talked to him in a week and there was no doubt that he heard about the rumors — the rumors that he had no idea were true.

“What are you talking about?” You said with a hint of defensiveness. You quickly softened your expression to make up for your attitude, you were just tired of everyone talking about you.

“Nothing,” Heeseung shook his head, “I’m just teasing you. I heard what people are saying.”

“None of it is true,” You lied.

He let out a low laugh, which caused your heart to drop in fear. “It wouldn’t be so bad if they were.”

You gently push his shoulder and Heeseung quickly gets rid of the smirk on his face. “Stop joking around, a lot of people are already on my ass about it. And everyone knows you have a different girl in your bed every week, it just makes me seem twice as desperate.” You playfully say, taking the situation less seriously as Heeseung is.

You watched as his gaze fell to the floor. Were you wrong to bring up his reputation?

Heeseung scratched his head before meeting your eyes, “It’s just rumors and they will go away soon,” he spoke matter-of-factly.

“I’ll see you tonight at the bonfire?”

You scoff and shake your head. “I probably won’t go anymore because of what people are saying.”

He notices hurt evident on your face, but he smiles anyway. “If the rumors aren’t true then don’t let it bother you,” he takes a step closer and you start to feel your heart pound. “I’ll try to find out who started it, but I better see you tonight.”

At that he leaves, and there it was, the feeling of butterflies floating around in your stomach. His assurance makes you feel better.

It was impossible to hide how widely you smiled and how heated your cheeks felt. He was just being a kind and caring friend, yet it was impossible not to fall for him.

Bonfires were held by the school to celebrate the wins of the basketball team. You always had a great time hanging out with your friends, meeting new people, and supporting the team. Though, it also wasn’t fun to always watch the team captain stick his tongue down someone’s throat and completely disappearing before the night ended.

You decided to attend the one held tonight, although things would be different. There will be people who are constantly going to talk about you or maybe even say things directly to your face.

On the way to the bonfire, you thought about the last words Heeseung said to you at school before he left your locker. These stupid remarks that people are saying will eventually go away. But you still had no idea who would start these rumors.

You thought that you hid your feelings pretty well by not telling anyone, not even your closest friends. Maybe you were just too obvious.

“What if someone humiliates me tonight?” You walked down the beach with Hana, having a churned feeling in your gut.

“We’re not gonna let that happen,” Hana softly says while wrapping a blanket around you. “The boys will literally kick someone’s ass, you know how protective they are of you.”

You thank Hana for helping you ease up. You let go of your uneasy thoughts, Heeseung is expecting to see you which matters right now.

“You guys made it,” Jake got up from his seat to hug you and Hana. You look around and take in your surroundings. There were more people than you expected. Sunghoon and Jay were sitting down around the campfire along with a few students from school that you recognized.

Noticing that Heeseung wasn’t here, you press your lips in a small frown, already thinking about the worst of where he may be.

“Where’s Heeseung? Did he already leave with someone tonight?” You ask Jake in a playful manner, preparing your disappointment if he already had disappeared with someone else.

“No,” Jake laughed, “The basketball team snuck in booze so he’s helping with that. He’ll be back.”

You nod and try to hide the evident sigh of relief that was let out. “Forget that I asked,” you laughed before going around the campfire to greet Sunghoon and Jay.

“Are you okay?” Jay asked. “I’m fine, I’m just gonna hang for now and probably get a drink later,” you said, taking a seat in an empty space. You recognize the person sitting to the left of you, he was definitely a player of the basketball team.

“Hey, aren’t you suppose to help-“

“Have you fucked the captain yet?”

You heard the boy say as his lips turn into a sneer, and you started to chuckle nervously, the question catching you off-guard but it was expected right? You and your obsession with Heeseung was the talk of the town this week.

“Are you seriously asking me that?” You groaned out. Before the boy could answer, he was lightly smacked in the head. “Hey, leave her alone,” announced a familiar voice from behind you.

It was Heeseung with an agitated look on his face, and you couldn’t help but feel your lips slightly upturn into a grin. You watched as Heeseung took a seat, separating you and his teammate.

The action made your heart warm.

“When did you get here?” The irritated look on his face changed as he smiled fondly.

“I just got here with Hana.”

Heeseung nods before initiating small tension of silence. You notice him carefully bringing his stare to you. It was as if he using his eyes to trace every detail on your face and this freaked you out.

“Is there something on my face?” You questioned anxiously, hoping that you didn’t actually have anything on your face because it would be embarrassing, especially in front of your crush that you’re trying to impress.

Heeseung shook his head and chuckled. “No, I’m just glad you’re here,” he softly said.

A shit eating grin appeared from his response and you were flustered, your face possibly super red.

“Am I missing something?” You giggled, in disbelief of the words coming out of his mouth.

You were happy to know that he’s glad to see you, you actually wanted to scream, but you were also a bit confused on why he suddenly felt this way.

He was a fuckboy and this was probably his way of taking his girls to bed, not that you minded because this is what you want — a chance to be his for one night, but something felt off.

“All of a sudden you’re happy to be around me,” you lightly shrugged while taking a moment to get lost in his wide eyes, “What’s going on?”

His throat bobbled before he forced out a laugh, “Nothing’s going on. I just wanna make sure you’re doing okay after what people are saying.”

You didn’t know why, but you had a hard time believing him. You had a feeling that he wasn’t telling the truth. “Thank you-“

“We’re gonna play truth or drink.”

You drew your attention away from Heeseung when Hana was in front of you.

“I’ll pass,” you tell her.

Hana crosses her arms and pouts, “Just play for one round then you can go back to- whatever,” she turned her gaze to Heeseung who was awfully sitting closer than you remember. Hana notices the close proximity but doesn’t comment on it, instead, she’s waiting for you to answer.

“Why are we playing truth or drink?”

Hana grins, “The boys suggested it because they’re bored and the booze hasn’t kicked in yet.”

“Fine, but just one round,” you warn.

Hana happily takes a seat next to you with Heeseung still on your left. You watch your friends and a few familiar people around the campfire get comfortable before the game starts.

“Heeseung,” Sunghoon managed to get everyone’s attention, “Can I ask you first?”

You turn to face Heeseung who swallowed as he sat up to unintentionally fix his posture. “Sure,” he said without hesitation.

“Alright, let me think,” Sunghoon muttered.

“When was the last time you slept with someone?” There was a hint of tease in his voice.

Heeseung eyes got a bit wider while the question caused the others to ‘ooh’ like children. You, however, felt your stomach twist. You were curious, but also didn’t need a reminder that the guy you have feelings for is sleeping around with most of the girls at school but you.

You feel your brows furrow when Heeseung locked eyes with you for a moment before he finally spoke out his answer. “A month ago.”

You tried to give out a quiet laugh, but Heeseung heard and quizzically tilted his head at your reaction. “You’re lying,” you murmured.

Heeseung peered intently at you, he was taken aback. “It’s the truth,” he cleared his throat.

You almost feel bad, but you skeptically stared at him, “I have a hard time believing that.”

His expression turned into a more serious one, and you suddenly felt a sense of nervousness wash over you. Have you struck a nerve?

“I’m sorry,” you said as he went silent, “It’s just hard to believe that the biggest fuckboy at school would go a month without sex.”

You and the others who heard everything shared a look as Heeseung snickered. You turned to face him and this time he was closer. There was an uncomfortable closeness. He was intimidating, and you felt your breath hitch, regretting the words that came out of your mouth.

“How many times are you gonna mention me being a ‘fuckboy’ and the girls in my bed?” The change of tone in his voice was almost scary.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” You shake your head and try to apologize. You acted out of jealously and bitterness. “Heeseung-“

“I answered. Who’s turn is it?” he interjected while looking around to continue the game. Thankfully, no one made a single comment to what was heard. Jake proceeded with the game by asking the girl next to him a question.

You cursed under your breath knowing that it was wrong to not believe Heeseung’s answer and to bring up his reputation about his sex life. Not wanting things to be weird, you attempt to apologize again but was met with hard silence.

After a moment of listening to your friends play the game that you forgot was occurring, Heeseung finally looks back at you and there was something in his gaze you had never seen.

“Are you jealous because you want to fuck me?” He mutters lowly for only you to hear.

You freeze completely.

The intensity in his stare and the sensual tone in his voice made you feel something that you have never felt before when he spoke to you.

“T-that’s not true,” you stuttered, trying to ignore how hot your ears and cheeks felt.

You felt as if you were caught and the truth of yours was finally going to come out. You weren’t ready to tell Heeseung about your feelings, you weren’t even sure if you’re going to confess.

“I know,” Heeseung softly lets out with a quick change of expression. He grins, noticing your flushed face. “I’m sorry, it was just a joke. I just like seeing you flustered,” he admits.

You playfully push his shoulder just as you did when he was at your locker earlier today. You let out a huge sigh of content that he wasn’t super pissed about the comments you made. But why was he always playing around with you?

“Y/N, your turn.” Someone from your class blurted out which caused your head to shoot up.

“What’s your question?” You uttered.

Your classmate took a pause to think of a suitable question to ask. “Are you currently seeing or dating anyone?” They finally spoke.

“I am not,” you said easily.

“That’s good to know,” a voice said and you swore it came from the left of you, but you weren’t certain. Suddenly, you notice everyone looking at the boy next to Heeseung, the one who spoke to you earlier, with faces of terror.

“What did you say?” You asked the basketball player with a slight anxious tone to your voice.

Along with everyone around the campfire, Heeseung had his eyes glued to his teammate.

“I said that it’s good to know you’re single,” He said with an exasperated voice.

The comment made you feel a bit irked, but your focus was on everyone whispering and some even laughing before they quickly moved on.

“She’s lying,” you heard another sudden voice blurt out. This time, the voice sounded clear and close. “She’s taken by me,” Heeseung declared, not sparing you a glance.

“What?” You exclaimed, feeling your heart beat rapidly to the point that you didn’t notice Hana trying to speak to you. “Heeseung, stop,” you urged, knowing that he was playing around again.

Heeseung ignored you and instead, nodded his head, “We’ve been dating for awhile now.”

“Stop fucking around again, it’s not funny,” You pleaded while grabbing onto his arm to get his attention. He finally met your eye contact but kept going with his act by appearing to be upset.

“Baby, come on.” He whined out, practically begging with his big doe eyes.

You would usually feel the butterflies in your stomach, but this was different. You started to wonder why he treated everything as a joke. And it wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t aware of your feelings, but he was really torturing you.

“Is that why you made up those rumors?”

Heeseung glanced over your head as your eyes widened at the sudden statement. You turned around and surprise crossed Jake’s face.

“You made things up to soft launch your relationship?” Jake continued, directly speaking to Heeseung.

You take a second to process Jake’s words and the look Heeseung gave him. All you can do is inquisitively raise your brow at Heeseung, while trying to get rid of the huge lump in your throat.

“What is he saying?” You softly asked, trying to ignore the heavily feeling in your chest. Heeseung opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it.

“You made up those rumors?” You raised your voice, trying to get an answer out of him, but there was nothing so you get up from your seat and stand before him.

“Do you know how many people at school have humiliated me?” You choked out as the realization hits you. You were betrayed by your own friend who happened to be the one guy that you have intense feelings for. “Why did you do it?”

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Heeseung stands and attempts to hold your arm but you quickly pull away.

You shook your head fervently, “That’s all you have to say? Why are you doing this to me?”

Lee Heeseung always gave you a sense of what heartbreak felt like. The way most girls had a taste of him and how he betrayed you.

Was it wrong to not believe that he was hurting you? Maybe you were obsessed with him.

“I’ll bring you home,” Hana reaches out for your hand and leads the way to the car, both of you leaving the bonfire after saying quick goodbyes to your confused friends. You felt humiliated enough and just wanted to go home.

You hear Heeseung practically chasing after you, “Wait,” he pleads, voice cracking lowly.

“Why did you do it?” You let out, blinking back incoming tears because you weren’t going to cry.

“You’re always fucking around with me and I didn’t do shit to you,” the pain in your voice was so evident that Heeseung shook his head, an array of emotions flurrying across his face.

“I didn’t mean to humiliate you,” he gently said.

As much as it hurts, you said nothing and got inside the car, leaving Heeseung feeling like complete shit. You repeatedly asked the same question, yet it was always dodged. To you, it wasn’t worth to fight for an answer anymore.

On the way home you confessed to Hana about your crush. She wasn’t all that surprised because yeah, you were just too obvious about it.

Now you were in bed, trying to forget all that is Lee Heeseung, but it was too damn hard. Your stupid crush as you call it, felt more than a simple crush. That invisible pull he had on you was too strong and it seemed impossible to move on.

You wonder if he were ever going to apologize, were you going to forgive him quickly?

The thought of moving on continued until you felt your eyes closed and drifted to sleep. But suddenly, you heard a few taps on the window which caused your eyes to snap open.

Surprised and super tense, you ran to your window and hesitatingly open your blinds to reveal Heeseung standing outside on your balcony. He had that same look on his face when didn’t spare him a chance to speak before getting inside the car. You open your window to let him in, praying that you weren't loud enough to wake your parents up who were asleep down the hall.

“You scared me,” you whispered, watching him enter your room through the window with ease. You quickly cross your arms, feeling a bit exposed in just silk pajama pants and a tank top.

“What are you doing here?” You panic as he scans your room. “My parents are sleeping and-“

“I’m sorry I made up those rumors,” he interrupts, face dropping in hurt as he stands before you. You narrowed your eyes at him, realizing how close he was standing. It was difficult to keep your heart steady, you didn’t even have time to process that Lee Heeseung was in your room.

“Why did you do it?” You ask the same question once more, hoping he answers this time.

“I did it because I wanted your attention,” his throat bobbles. “It’s actually really fucking stupid,” Heeseung sighs hard as you attentively listen, not fully understanding his words.

“I like you a lot and I thought that these rumors would bring us closer together,” he confesses. “It’s so stupid, I don’t know why I thought that.”

Your breath hitches as your arms drop. This new information is hitting you with surprise, causing you to take a tentative step forward, “You like me?” You couldn’t believe him.

Heeseung nods, “I’ve liked you for a while,” he huffs and glances away. “I started sleeping around to distract myself from you, and I tried getting rid of my feelings because I knew you wouldn’t like me back,” a laugh was let out.

Your mouth falls open, but you were speechless. The boy you’re practically in love with is reciprocating his feelings and he left you momentarily stunned as if a sudden jolt of electricity had coursed through your veins.

“Heeseung,” you shake your head, having a difficult time comprehending what you’ve heard.

“Wait,” he brings both hands to each of your bare shoulders. “It’s true that I’ve stopped seeing other girls. Whenever I was with them I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he pauses and grins for a moment, “So I had to stop.”

“You sound insane right now,” you let out without thought and he sighed with a nod, “And you made me look like a fool and an obsessive freak.”

He nodded again while removing his hands, “I know and I’m really sorry for doing that to you. And I’m sorry for what I pulled at the bonfire, it was wrong to lie like that in front of everyone.”

You crossed your arms, “The rumors you said-“

“What I said about you was fucked up.”

A frown fell upon him as you stare into his eyes. You knew he was genuine with his words — he wouldn’t have snuck into your room and risk getting you both caught if he wasn’t.

You slowly step forward, cupping his face with a hand and taking the chance to finally close the gap between you two, capturing his lips in a kiss. You heard him let out a gasp when he felt your lips on his. Heeseung easily melts into you while returning your kiss, and you can’t help but smile, finally kissing him after wanting him for so long.

You were the first one to pull away when air became necessary, “What you said was all true.”

He furrowed his brows, unable to find words to say anything. The redness of his ears makes you giggle, it was cute to see how shy he was.

“I like you too and I thought about being with you,” you interlock your hand with his, never leaving his gaze. “I thought about it a lot actually,” you remove the hair in your face, “Whenever I heard that you were with someone else.”

Heeseung tried to gather the courage to speak. According to his words, he’d never thought that you would feel the same way. To express what he was feeling inside, he brought his lips to yours for a quick kiss before pulling away.

“What fantasies do you have of me?”

The question causes you to hide your face in embarrassment, but Heeseung quickly removes your hands, regretting his pestering remark.

“I’m truly sorry, I’ll make sure people at school will stop talking about you. I did something very shitty and you don’t deserve it,” he admits.

“I forgive you,” you bury your face in Heeseung’s shoulder, “Only because I’m an obsessed freak.” You joke hastily causing him to chuckle fondly.

After a moment of being in each other’s embrace, you stare into his vulnerable eyes, allowing yourself to act on your feelings. “I want to be yours. I always have,” you beamed.

Heeseung understands quickly, because he also has always wanted to be yours. His eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his lips against yours softly.

He kissed you gently and slow, until he’s suddenly attacking your lips, and you feel both of his large hands cupping your small face. He licks your bottom lip for permission to shove his tongue inside your mouth and you accept, both of you fighting for dominance. It was like a reflex with the way you grabbed onto his hair.

You felt his hand slip under your tank top and he grabs your breast, kneading it gently. A loud exhale leaves your mouth, his touch igniting you.

Heeseung quickly broke away from you and nuzzled your temple before taking a deep breath then sighing, “We don’t have to go all the way.”

“Lee Heeseung turning down sex?” You tease him and he laughs before kissing you once more.

“I didn’t come here expecting something to happen. You’re special to me.”

His declaration makes your hurt flutter and creates an uncomfortable feeling between your legs. “I want you,” you tell him.

Heeseung freezes.

“Have you done it before?” He takes your hand.

You hesitate before shaking your head, “I’ve did other things before, but I’ve never gone all the way with someone.”

Your response makes him pause.

“Then it shouldn’t be with me,” he says before withdrawing his touch and taking a step back.

You grab his arm, refusing him to walk away, “Hey, I want it to be with you. I don’t care about how many other girls you’ve had, that’s not important,” you tell him. “Heeseung, please.”

It felt like a long time waiting for him to say something. Finally, he speaks up, “If we do this then I want you to tell me to stop when you want me to,” his voice is uncharacteristically quiet.

“Okay,” You nod your head accordingly.

“But we can’t be too loud, your parents are down the hall,” he amusingly smiles.

You nod your head one more time as he searches for any last signs of you wanting to back out. His hot breath fanned on your face as you pull him closer by his shirt.

He leans further down to press a trail of kisses against your jaw as you take a deep breath before tugging at the end of his shirt while his hand slides under yours, cupping your breast firmly this time. Heeseung removes his shirt, revealing his exposed chest as you take off yours.

You watch him take a step back to admire you, which leaves your face flushed with heat.

“You’re perfect,” he says, and all you could do is smile because you notice the tent in his pants.

Heeseung wraps his arms around your waist and shoves his tongue back inside your mouth. You rub your thighs together feeling yourself getting soaked, you wanted to feel him already.

When you wrap your arms around his shoulders, you can’t help the way your body reacts to him as you attempt to rub yourself against him.

Heeseung notices this and instead of letting you continue, he slides a hand inside your pants and between your legs to spread your slick while also pressing the heel of his palm on your clit.

“That feels good,” you groan out, still attempting to press against him. When you succeed, a small grunt leaves his lips. “Does it?” He says coyly while curling his long fingers inside you.

You don’t answer him and it’s because he’s hitting your sweet spot, making you unable to speak. He fastens his pace and you feel your orgasm approaching, “H-Heeseung, I’m so close,”

He relentlessly rubs circles around your clit, reveling in the pretty noises coming out of your mouth. You feel your thighs shaking as you continue grinding against him, and it was becoming too much until you let out your release, holding onto his biceps to steady yourself.

After retracting his fingers and wiping them clean on his pants, Heeseung easily picks you up from off the ground and props you on your bed. He grabs the band of your pants to pull them down before quickly slipping off your panties. You impatiently lay there, waiting for him to undress.

He starts to strip off his pants by unbuttoning the buttons, his boxers followed by it. The sight of his cock leaking with precum caused your eyes to widen. He was pretty, prettier from what you’ve seen before, and you can’t help but feel nervous as to how he was going to fit inside you.

But you trust him and give him a nod to continue because you want this so bad. Heeseung started to stroke himself, and with the copious amount of precum, he was able to glide up and down with ease. The view of Lee Heeseung looking gorgeous on your bed while naked leaves you breathless.

“Shit,” he lets out a panic grunt.

You sit up and notice the worried look on his face, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry baby, I-I don’t have a condom,” he mutters, and by the tone in his voice, you could tell that he was freaking out. “I have one in the car, I could run to get it really quick.”

You think about it for a second before shaking your head. Although a condom would be the safest choice, you don’t want him to get dressed just to undress again. Your parents were still in the house, and you were afraid that he’d get caught sneaking back inside.

You also wanted him now, you weren’t sure if you could wait much longer. “You can just pull out,” you suggest and he immediately refuses.

“It’s okay, I trust you.”

“Are you sure? I don’t have a problem getting it.”

You reach for his hand and give it a tight squeeze before nodding, “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Unless you aren’t?” You continue.

Heeseung shakes his head, “No, I’m sure. I want you too, very badly, but I want you to feel safe.”

You lay back down while pulling Heeseung until he’s hovered over you. “I trust you, Hee. It’s fine.”

Heeseung merely tilts his head and lets his smile deepen as he removes the hair in your face to see you clearly. He kisses the side of your mouth then your lips before taking his throbbing length to slowly slide inside you.

With his precum and your dripping core, he is able to slide in easily, but he deliberately takes a slow amount of time, not wanting to hurt you. Your hands desperately grabbed at his bare shoulders, digging your nails in as he slides in deeper. You feel full when he’s only halfway in, and as much as you wanted to him to bottom you out and fuck you relentlessly, it did hurt a bit.

“I’m sorry,” he halts and completely slips out, feeling you slightly shift and noticing the uncomfortable look on your face.

“No,” you grab him by the arm, “Don’t stop.”

Heeseung obliges, lining his cock up with your entrance and gently easing the tip inside. He inched inside deeper and your walls squeezed when inviting him in. Heeseung fully inserted himself into you, causing you to cling onto him and let out a loud whine. He allowed you to adjust as he stretched you out and the feeling felt better than just fingers, you were already addicted.

He grabbed your thighs and grinded himself upwards, placing his dick so deep inside you. Heeseung grit his teeth attempting to hold back his sounds before planting a weak kiss on your lips, never feeling like this with anyone else.

“Does it feel good?” He whimpers, gradually increasing his pace when thrusting inside you.

All he got as a response was moan and he chuckled, finding it cute. You were enthralled, feeling his movements become faster, more ragged and desperate. “It feels- so good.”

Heeseung was watching you with lustful eyes as you took his cock in ecstasy. Your lips met, exchanging warm breaths and loud moans into each other’s mouths as it echoed inside your room. “You feel good, perfectly made for me.”

“I’m glad it’s with you,” You accidentally let out, trying to contain your moan. After hearing your words, he groaned and firmed your hips closer. You feel him increasing his pace, hitting your spot as he slid in and out of you, almost tipping you over the edge. “Heeseung-“ You began.

He lets out a soft grunt before slyly sneaking a hand down to graze your clit. You squeeze your eyes shut and clench hard, his words and warm touch helping you to approach your release.

“Hee, I’m close,” you cry out. He continues thrusting sensually, causing loud sounds to leave both of your mouths at the sensation.

Simultaneously, you both cover each other’s mouths restricting the loud noises so that you wouldn’t wake your parents up. And you release just like that, moaning into Heeseung’s hand.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, “You’re perfect.”

You were dizzy and disoriented, barely making out the words that left his lips as he slows down his rhythm, still fast enough to chase his own release. “I’m gonna cum,” he whined, his fingers gripping your hips almost painfully.

His touch felt amazing and you were vaguely aware of Heeseung pulling out just in time. You groaned, watching as he gasped himself in his fist, pumping himself over your stomach as he painted you with his seed.

His weight gently pushed you flat against the mattress, his puddle of cum sticking on the both of you as you both shook from the intensity of your orgasms. Heeseung pressed small kisses to your shoulders before getting up from your bed and picking up his shirt to clean you.

“Are you okay?” Heeseung asked before rolling to lay next to you. “Does it hurt?”

You shook your head, “It was perfect,” you then plant a small kiss on his lips while removing a piece of his hair that stuck to his forehead.

“You were very sweet with me.”

“I told you that you’re special to me,” he replies, pressing his lips against your forehead.

The corners of your mouth upturned into a huge smile, the butterflies in your stomach were floating around as if they didn’t leave. But in a matter of a quick second, your body language changes into a more stern and stiff manner.

“What’s wrong?” His voice trembled in concern.

A sudden feeling of insecurity hit. Heeseung knew how to make you feel good, it wasn’t like anything you’ve ever felt before and a reason might be because he is experienced, but you wonder if you were able to satisfy him — to make him feel good.

“You were so perfect, I don’t know if you could say the same,” you drop your head in defeat. “I’m sorry if it didn’t feel good to you-“

“Baby, stop talking,” he urges.

“You said that you don’t care about how many girls I’ve been with,” he reiterates. “I don’t care if you’re experienced or not, it was perfect because it was with you. I want to be with you.”

You could feel your voice caught in your throat. The look in his eyes as he declared his words made your heart pound hard in your chest. It feels unreal to finally win over your crush of how many long tumultuous years. After everything, you wonder how lucky you got with him.

And Heeseung was thinking the same thing. He felt lucky to be with you after all of his fuck ups, he was obsessed with you too.

“You’re with me,” you tell him.

“Okay then,” he looks satisfied, “You’re my girl.”

note — thank you for reading! please leave any thoughts or comments, reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated!

#enhypen fic #enhypen smut #enhypen hard headcanons #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #heeseung hard hours #heeseung smut #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung angst #kpop smut #kpop fic #heeseung fic

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utilitycaster · 10 months ago

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I really like Taliesin elaborating on the inspiration from the 90s LA punk scene, in which he said a lot of the people he knew were just people looking for hope in a world that has been incredibly unfair to them. It's a very empathetic view towards people who, as he said, often are dealing with injustice and disadvantages.

He also mentions that many of these punks were dealing with drug and alcohol problems (and while he did not want that to be central to Ashton's character and wanted to focus instead on chronic pain for a number of reasons, including personal, Ashton definitely relies on alcohol for palliative reasons). More generally, we see Ashton look for hope and answers in a lot of places that end up being extremely incorrect. The most obvious one is with the shard of Rau'shan, which, after multiple people advised them against taking it with very clear warnings, they decided to still attempt to absorb, with nearly-fatal results; but there were flashes of this with their earlier cynicism towards Eshteross vs. a much more begrudging acceptance of the transactional worldview of Ratanish or Jiana Hexum.

Ashton often places his own pain in a position of honor, and in doing so can discount that of other people. He's been remarkably unlucky, to be clear; I think that's part of it. We as the audience know that their statement that no one in that room has felt helpless in their lives is demonstrably false about pretty much all of Vox Machina and their allies, as well as the Bright Queen. He says Keyleth maybe does know, not realizing that of Keyleth and Vex, one has been a homeless runaway rather like himself, and it's not the one he's saying knows helplessness. In a way, to hold on to that hope, they find themselves telling themselves a lot of lies because otherwise they have to face the truth that their suffering did not make them more qualified or better; it was just unfair and it might still keep happening. He blames the gods because then at least there's a reason and not just absolutely random chance that he was born to a self-important cultist, happened to survive a long-shot ill-advised ritual and wake up in the desert of another continent, happened to be the one thrown out the window of Hexum Manor, and happened to be saved with a Potion of Possibility. To be clear, they've since made a name for themself on their own merits, but a lot of who they are, both in terms of the traumatic and difficult elements and in terms of what now makes them special was dumb luck, good or bad.

For Ashton, for those LA punks Taliesin knew, for the Vanguard and for Ludinus and for countless people in Exandria and in our actual world, a lot of grasping for hope becomes grasping for a meaning for pain and suffering. I'd argue that this is a pretty major theme Taliesin explores with all his characters. However, just because the pain is real doesn't mean the conclusions one comes to as a result of it are inviolate and above reproach. It is possible to have extremely valid pain and trauma and to be incredibly wrong about its source or what it means, or to deal with it in ways that will either make it worse or that will inflict pain, even inadvertently, on others. And I think the theme of the campaign is very much that; what happens when someone either chooses to or must let the decisions they made to deal with a moment - or a life - of pain be writ large on both themselves and the world?

#critical role #ashton greymoore

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eternally-racing · 1 year ago

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kiss it better | lance stroll

pairing: lance stroll x reader

genre: fluff, smut (minors DNI)

warning: oral sex (m! receiving)

wc: 1.3k

summary: When you’re taking care of Lance after his biking injuries there’s a special place where he really wants you to kiss it better.

author’s note: yes, this is 100% inspired from me watching DTS and Lance’s scene with Lando LOL

- - -

The last 2 weeks had been an insane rollercoaster for you and Lance. What had started off as a fun experience biking with friends in Spain had turned into a nightmare as you and Lance spent the rest of your trip in the hospital.

You had been Lance’s angel throughout all of the recovery from his wrist injuries. Never before had either of you really thought about how much you do with your hands and feet, until you realized that it meant that Lance couldn't really do anything until the doctors had determined that he was recovered enough. “It would take more than a lifetime for me to repay you for this, baby” Lance always says as you help him out around the house. You truly didn’t mind it - doing the laundry, the grocery shopping, the cooking, the cleaning. “We do it for the people we love” you would always say. It’s because you knew that if the tables were turned that Lance would do the exact same for you, taking care of you 24/7 until you felt better.

Your generosity is what makes Lance feel especially guilty. In the last 2 weeks he had been nothing more than a couch potato while you seemed to balance ten thousand responsibilities. You were already doing so much for him, how could you possibly ask for more? But you were walking around the house in the tiniest little shorts and a bralette that really felt like it barely counted as actually covering your chest. Lance definitely wasn’t complaining but looking at you was weakening his resolve with every passing day. Today you had taken to putting away the laundry, and with every time you bent over he could feel his boxers start to tighten. It was getting unbearable really, and the horniness in Lance’s brain was making it short circuit.

“Y/N baby, can I get your help with something?”

It feels like you’re there at his bedside before he can even blink. Your doe eyes are looking at him in a way that makes him want to give you the whole universe and it’s enough to make Lance want to bail on his request.

“No, actually I changed my mind I don't need - “

“Baby, please - I’m here to help you. What do you need?” You perch yourself on the edge of his bed, busying yourself but organizing some things on the nightstand. Lance’s cheeks are bright red but now he can barely look you in the eye.

“It’s just been a really long time since I… yknow.” Lance glances down only slightly but it’s enough to give you an idea of what’s going on.

“Oh?”

“Oh.”

“Well, I think there’s something that I could do about that.” you smirk slightly.

Your hand slowly creeps towards where you know his cock lies under the bedsheets, and you gasp when you feel how hard it already is in your hands. You lean further down, laying your head so close, but still so far from where Lance wants you to be.

“No teasing baby” he mutters as he has to resist running a hand through your hair himself. The casts covering both his hands serve as a stark reminder of why he can’t do so even though he so badly wants to. You’re placing soft little kisses over top of the blanket, leaving the layers between you two as you creep closer towards his hardened length.

“I’m surprised I didn’t think of this before honestly. Like what were you going to do - suck your dick yourself?”

You have your hands laid across Lance’s thighs and you feel them clench at the statement, which makes your jaw drop in response.

“Oh my god, you’ve totally tried to suck your own dick before. This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard of. If I wasn’t so horny right now I would make you tell me the story right now, but I definitely want to hear all about this later.” you laugh while still continuing your ministrations.

Your monologue gets a little long and Lance throws his head back and whines. When you pull back the covers and his boxers, Lance’s cock is the hardest you’ve ever seen it - the precum that sneaks out of the head only adds to your arousal as you lick your lips in anticipation . When you run your fingers over it gently it’s enough to make the Canadian boy shudder. You take your time as you kiss up and down the inside of his thighs, running your tongue over everywhere except where he needs you most.

“Please Y/N - I’ll beg, I’ll do anything. I’m just a guy who hasn’t cum in over 2 weeks and has the most beautiful girl in the world on his knees in front of him - I might just cum the minute you touch me.”

It’s music to your ears when you hear Lance moan as you lower your mouth onto his cock. You know his body so well that you know exactly what to do to have him seeing stars. His cock is hitting the back of your throat already and Lance can’t help the way his hips buck his cock further into you. Your hands come around to cover up the part of his length that you can’t fit in your mouth, working in tandem to make sure that you’re covering every single inch.

“You’re taking me so well princess, feels so fucking good.” Lance is filled with nothing but praise for you as your head bobs up and down on his length.

You’re gasping for air as you finally lift your head off Lance’s dick. You take it in your hands and slap your cheek a couple of times, enjoying the feeling of it against your skin. It’s when you reach to cup his balls in your hand that Lance truly feels like he’s in heaven, and he says exactly that. Even in your hands they feel full, so full of cum, and you can’t help but let out a moan yourself at the feeling. You give them each the attention they deserve before Lance begs for you to go back to his cock.

You can feel Lance’s hips start to stutter underneath you as he starts to lose control.

“Oh god Y/N I’m gonna cum, fucking hell.” Lance tries to lift your mouth off of him, telling you that he’ll cum wherever you’d like. There was no surprise that Lance was a tits man through and through and loved seeing thick ropes of his cum over your breasts. Sometimes you’d want it on your face, sticking your tongue out the catch as much cum as you can. But today you kept your head down, ignoring Lance’s warnings as you kept your nose buried firmly towards his pubic bone.

“Princess I’m really gonna - fuck, fuck, fuck” Lance keeps chanting your name as he cums.

There’s so much cum that you can’t keep it all in your mouth. It drips out of the corner of your mouth and down your chin which looks absolutely sinful. Lance wishes he could take a real photo but instead resolves to committing it to memory himself. As if that wasn’t enough, Lance moans watches you swallow, proudly showing off your clean tongue to him after the fact.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most amazing girl in the entire world?” Lance says as he pulls you into a kiss.

“Maybe a couple times, but I could hear it again.” Even though Lance is always a charmer, his words still make you blush every time.

“How about I show you instead?” Lance gets you to lay on your back, switch your positions as he starts to nestle his face in between your thighs.

“Wait baby, I don’t want to hurt you - you’re still recovering.” The worry is evident in your voice as you stop him from diving in further.

“My wrists may be broken but my tongue works just fine, princess.” Lance says as he uses his teeth to pull down your panties.

— – – – —

author’s note: that scene in dts was so iconic that i just had to capture it in a fic! hope u all enjoyed it :) Until next time! - Em 🩷

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loveharlow · 2 months ago

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Hi, really love ur writing !!

So can u write something with jealousjj

Like he was denying everything between yn and him but obsessed

he would be so ANNOYING, like boy yk you're in love with that girl and jb and pope would give him hell yk they would

swearing, pining, jealousy, sexual innuendoes

John B and Pope approached JJ where he stood with his back against his closed locker, noticing his intense stare and crossed arms. JB clapped the blonde on the shoulder as they reached him. "Yo, you good? What's got your attention, man?"

JJ shrugged, adjusting his posture and looking at his shoes as he tried to play it cool. "Nothin', nothin'. Just... observing the wildlife." He lied horribly, considering they were in the hallways of Kildare High.

Pope raised an eyebrow, following JJ's earlier line of vision to find you and the new transfer kid talking and laughing. A slow smirk spread across his face. "Uh-huh... Must be mating season then." He teased, hiking his backpack up on his shoulder.

John B grinned, catching on. "Yeah, they seem pretty friendly. Dude's kinda cute, too." He nudged JJ's arm before leaning his arm on his shoulder. "You gonna let him steal your girl, J?"

JJ scoffed, but there was a definite edge to his voice. "She's not my girl." He brushed off, shaking his head and looking away from his friends.

"Oh, really?" Pope challenged, his smirk widening. "Could've fooled me. You've been staring at her like a lovesick puppy all year but you've been too chickenshit to say a word to her."

"Shut up, Pope," JJ muttered, his eyes still fixed on you. He hated how easily they could read him. He wasn't lovesick. He just didn't like seeing you with other guys...that weren't him.

"Nah, he's right." JB added. "What happened to JJ 'The Player' Maybank? You'll smooth talk any other girl but you're letting this one get away when you've been pining after her for months." John B, ever the instigator, continued, "Now, you've got some guy takin' her from you, dude."

"And he's from France." Pope cringed, throwing the statement out there. "Girls love that shit."

"Exactly!" John B agreed, throwing his hands up. "He's probably offering to butter her croissant right now, bro. Maybe you should go over there and, I don't know, mark your territory." He made air quotes with his fingers.

JJ shot him a glare. "I'm not marking anything. She's not somethin' to be marked, Bree. I just... I need to talk to her about somethin' and he's been hogging her all day, that's all." It was a lame excuse, and they all knew it.

"She's the school tour guide, JJ. Which you already know. She's probably just showing him around because she has to." Pope tried to remind.

"Tour guide this, tour guide that, that kid will learn his way around eventually but if you-" He emphasized, digging his pointer finger into JJ's chest. "-keep letting him make her giggle like that he's gonna turn your girl into a cream cheese pastry-"

"Shut the fuck up, dude." JJ cringed, scoffing. Okay, he did have feelings for you. He just didn't know what to do about them.

"Just sayin'." JB shrugged, a sly smile on his face. "Go get her, tiger." He pushed the blonde forward, closer in your direction.

JJ hesitated for another moment, watching as the student leaned closer to you, saying something that made you laugh even harder. A knot of something that felt suspiciously like jealousy tightened in his stomach.

Finally, he pushed himself off the locker, a newfound determination in his eyes. He started walking towards you and the french boy, trying to look nonchalant, like he just happened to be passing by. John B and Pope exchanged amused glances, knowing they'd hit a nerve. This was going to be interesting.

JJ Maybank Taglist in replies!

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

©loveharlow

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kissofrindou · 2 months ago

Text

crazy!

where rindou thinks hes going crazy (falling in love with you)

rindou x reader: fluff, tiny bit angst (insecurity), likes & reblogs are appreciated!

rindou thinks he might be genuinely going crazy.

he’s met you when you were both little kids, viewing as almost an extension to his life. you and him always seemed to orbit around his universe no matter what even when the world seemingly attempts the cut the red (platonic, he emphasises himself) thread on yours and his’ pinky - from when he got arrested for the first time when he was just 11 and yet you were right outside the stupid reformed school he was placed into the day he got out miraculously (he almost cried that day, but he would rather die than admit it verbally after all), or when you two had your first fight when he got mad you didn’t like his first mix he made, but he’s sure this time his luck is running out.

perhaps he’s been cursed by a rival gang, right that’s the logical reason - anything to ignore all the obvious signs that he knows, by heart, from all the stupid romance manga you used to make him buy and read with you as a little kid at the back of the class. wildly thumping heart that burns and tingles when he looks at you, red ears and cheeks that only appears otherwise from (rare) injuries he gets whenever him and ran needs to fight another overly-arrogant roppongiers, and a strange stuttering of words that fit more in his club remixes than an regular conversation with you on your bed that feels oh too intimidating now.

perhaps, he’s growing up too - no longer a naive little kid who looked at you as just a mere playground friend, no longer looking up at you attempting to make a pleading face for you to give up your candies to him for him to enjoy, no longer the same kid who hid the “embarrassing” fact that he was going for gymnastic and ballet classes that were given for free for lower-income students and instead lied that he was simply going home only to meet you at the said class. rindou, for the first time in his life, in your room like all the years back then as a little kid in your bedroom, looks at you clearly through his glasses as though it has been cleaned for the first time in years — your eyes that practically sparkle with the light reflecting in your eyes like crystals, your lips that he has never realised has always been the same shade of pink that paints with streaks on his burning cheeks, your hair that smell the same with the same kiddish scent that he associates with just you alone of pure sugar.

”rin… you’re awfully quiet and i know youre most definitely not actually doing your work either…”

i’m thinking about you. no, that’s too straightforward, too raw — something rindou has never been: running away as far as possible, dancing around his words, words that has always hid his realest self and feeling. nothing - that’s a lie, and he knows you’ll call him out: it has always been like this: you digging his problems out like he’s one of your boring assignments or seashells from the beach, always you. perhaps, its the lingering care, lingering love that he breathes from you: if its love, it has to be you because you were the first real love in his life with his absent parents and conscending looks from those other rich roppongi kids: there was you, plopping right beside him in the playground at the dismay of your other friends that are practically shell-shocked.

and there he goes on a tangent: he’s always in his own mind — a statement you tell him oh so often. but he argues, in his own head, that its you that on his mind all the time recently.

when he goes home, he’ll go to his room: one that is filled with physical memories of you and him: the box of origami butterflies and birds you made for him counting down the days he will be out of juvie, the polaroids kept in a stack of you and him smiling so brightly that it could rival the sun itself he’s sure at the back of the class in yours and his stuffy uniform he loathes and loves, the candy packets he bought for you to pass to you in class to keep you satisated and that grin on your face as the sweet burst into your mouth: he wants to selfishly be that candy too sometimes, caramel and butterscotch, even if he knows he’s not sweet in the slightest.

”mhm… just thinking again.” he lets out a uncommitable hum, eyes finally drifting to yours.

you don’t look convinced, its cute — your furrowed brows, your deadpan look plastered on your face almost immediately as though you know him inside and out (you do, he believes wholeheartedly like a little kid), your arms crosssed now, as you pout at him, practically melting away the metaphorical walls that he was just merely setting up for the battle and war of his feelings for you.

youre impossible, he decides, youre the one crazy, not him. definitely not him. even as the words burst of his mouth — like that candy youre chewing on, your face scrunching up at the burst of flavour.

”i really like you, you know?”

yup, never mind, he thinks. he’s definitely the insane one here.

yet, rindou’s completely paralysed, like those gang members under his merciless grip and twists. his eyes stare and bore into yours, trying to read yours eyes: light dancing and twisting in yours, no longer a whole crystal as it was previously, you have stopped chewing that stupid candy he bought you as a deal to help him study (cheat). he doesn’t know how or what to feel.

that expression is no stranger to him of course: he’s seen on the boring inmates when he reveals his age (just turned thirteen) in that stuck up juvie, he’s seen it on no-good teachers whenever he does score well for exams and competitions that he wishes to savour and tastes even more as the fire burns in his chest, he’s seen it on those boring and annoying gang members when his wrist flexes and he twists and pulls into the very beings’ bones and muscles from the skin as their scream fill his ears that he thinks would suit the next mix he wants to do.

but when its with you, he hates it.

change is inevitable of course, he knows. he knows: when his parents slowly stopped coming home and he would have to accept he would be stuck with his annoying older brother for the rest of his life (he doesn’t mind this now of course). he knows: when his friends he worked oh so hard to make avoid and ignore him when he comes back from juvie, his name now no longer uttered with mockery and with that rare friendly hint but completely of fear and straight voice that he tastes bile in his mouth. he knows: when his favourite noodle shop that tastes of home and nostalgia closed down finally (letting go of your past self is always the hardest), tears gone unnoticed in the pouring rain so strategically dripping against the wet face and hair.

and rindou thinks, no, believes he’ll genuinely go crazy if you and him changes: if you stop orbiting around him that he’s taken for granted all these years: your warmth, your familiarity and your love.

”… i like you too, rindou.”

and maybe he’s not as crazy as he thought: your eyes shining in a crystal-like structure, as though capturing the blue highlights that paints on his hair into a diamond like gem, your mouth melting into a grin that he swears practically melts him inside and out, your hands that feel so warm against his colder hands against the even colder room and world.

love. love isnt crazy, he thinks — no he admits to his stubborn self, that it tastes sugary sweet: when your lips melts against his, and you taste of sugar: sweeter than pure sugar, alchohol, and wear tastes.

#rindou.<3 #rindou haitani x reader #rindou x reader #rindou haitani fluff #tokyo revengers x reader #tr x reader #tokyo revengers fic #tokyo revengers fluff #tenjiku x reader

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