#(( and most of my interactions with people are just hey how are u this sounds cool and then silence ))

[eternalspawn]

.

[crowcryptid]

[atozfic]

splish splash.

pairing. san x seonghwa x wooyoung x yunho x fem!reader synopsis. they’re out to prove who’s the best at the breast-stroke- gets dragged off stage as the people boo over such a terrible pun. warnings. no use of y/n, swim team au, lifeguard!reader, pro-swimmers!sanhwawooho, they’re all wearing speedos :), smut ( porn with unnecesary plot, degradation, m+f oral sex, piv sex, anal sex, double penetration, triple penetration bc u got 3 holes for a reason sweetcheeks, mxm interactions, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, hair pulling, way more warnings that there’s honestly no point listing, just know this is pure filth that covers most bases of stereotypical fanfiction smut, mother in christ what have i written? ) no verbal consent is given throughout this but all parties are willing participants !! word count. 20k+ ( of literal porn. i need to leave this physical terrain bc i am not worthy of existing after writing this i fear. ) hyde’s input. hey girlie pops, long time no see.

it’s crazy, what some people will do for money.

take, for example, your roommate. she’s a smart girl. a beautiful one, too. with a promising future in criminal law, once she gets herself that pesky little degree. and, yet, she’s funding her tuition with money she earns distributing high-end drugs on campus. rather counter-productive, most would agree. or, in a far less extreme version, there’s that overly-hyper frat boy, who can always be found doing the dumbest dares at a party, all for a few bucks and a keg of beer.

and then there is you.

you would have arrived home twenty minutes ago at this point, had things gone to plan, a backlog of neglected assignments and a baby bonsai tree in need of watering desperately awaiting your return. yet here you are, stuck in your ugly flip-flops and uncomfortably stale shorts, whistle around your neck and a look of exhaustion on your face.

the swimming pool had closed, technically, an hour and a half ago. the sports centre seems to believe, however, that certain members of the college swim team reserve the right to use the pool for however long they require and desire, even if it is at your expense. if you were being paid overtime, perhaps you’d have a more positive outlook on things and less of a frown creasing on your forehead.

if the swimmers weren’t so irritating, maybe you’d enjoy the view.

“all that height, and for what?” the sophomore boy’s voice- jung wooyoung? you aren’t overly familiar with him, seeing him only in sporadic flashes when you pass each other on campus or at some uncivilised frat party- echos through the large room, his hair a wet mess. if you were gaining anything from being here, you’d perhaps muster up the energy to remind the boy of how a swim cap is necessary at all times in the water. “can’t even out-swim me with those long legs!”

“wanna know what my long legs are for?” jeong yunho, a junior with the face of an angel and the body proportions of a sinner, pipes up from across the olympic length pool. unlike the other boy, a crimson cap keeps his own locks out of sight. “climbing up the stairs to go fuck your mom!”

it’s impossible to stifle your laughter, no matter how hard you try to just play it off as a tickle at the back of your throat, a cough forcing its way out. when your eyes meet those of the glaring senior, however, you’re wishing you hadn’t made a sound.

“even the lifeguard can’t take you seriously, yunho,” park seonghwa speaks, eyes not leaving yours as his muscled arms work to pull himself out of the water, before letting his well-rounded behind sit down on the edge. a breath hitches in your throat as his gloriously muscled thighs come into view, drops of water cascading down them in a pattern set to hypnotise you, keep you staring a little longer than is good for your health. “bet she’s heard all about you and the boner incident of 2019.”

truthfully, you have no clue what the dark haired male is on about. that doesn’t stop you from laughing again though, this time a little out of malice and a lot because it’s quite endearing to see a loudmouth like jeong yunho be silenced so easily, head bowed and ears a little rosier with embarrassment.

this small moment of peace is soon shattered by the reality that these boys can’t spend more than ten minutes in a room- particularly one that includes a pool- without arguing. while one boasts about his speed, the other begins to jab at his lack of endurance, and the remaining of the three reminds them all of the fact he holds the most medals amongst them.

“are they always like this?” you jump, surprised by the cold drop of water that lands on your exposed thigh, all courtesy of the boy who’s invited himself to sit down next to you on the bench.

“not always,” you bite at the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to not look at san in all his wet glory. you’re afraid that, once you start looking at him, you won’t be able to stop. it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fallen victim to the crime that is his enchanting smile. “guess they’re feeling a little feistier than usual, with the district championship just around the corner. rumour has it one of you guys is risking his scholarship if he’s not in the top three.”

are you and san close?

that’s a good question. see, by social standards, you’re not strangers. you share several classes, you attend the same parties, you’ve even texted a few times- mostly on the days one of you miss class (read as: san misses class thanks to his swim-meets) and you need a copy of any notes taken that lesson.

but, you aren’t exactly friends either. you don’t go out of your ways to spend time together, you don’t know more than the surface level about one another, you don’t check-in with each other.

so, is acquaintances the best word to describe you two?

that depends on how common it is for an acquaintance to suck another acquaintance’s cock. granted, there had been a lot of alcohol in the mix, on both ends, with you drinking to forget a botched assignment and san drinking to forget how badly his voice had apparently cracked in front of his crush.

a few weeks have passed since the incident and things haven’t exactly been the same. you’ve missed class twice and ended up contacting heather- a sweet girl who sits down by the front and seems to live with her hand raised in the air- for any notes. likewise, san has found himself declining party invitations, the knowledge that you would be there all too prevalent in the front of his mind.

the irony is that neither of you quite know the reason why you’re avoiding each other, you just are.

or, were, until san had walked in with his swim team buddies- if they could even be considered that- and spotted you in your lifeguard attire. he hadn’t been as slick as he thought he was, sneaking glances at you between laps and even gaining an undeniable smile each time he watched you blow that stupid whistle at some misbehaving kids.

he was slicker with the fact he didn’t need to be here, at this hour. but, he figured staying gave him the chance to stare at you a little longer and, maybe, think up an excuse to talk to you.

“i should-”

“i missed-”

you both speak at the same time, minutes after watching the three musketeers disappear into the locker rooms, with the smallest of them continuing to dig at them for not being able to out-swim him despite their ample amount of height. san’s quick to signal you to go first, a dimple making itself known on his face and reminding you of the deadliest part of him: the false innocence that drips off him like warm candy.

sweet, sticky, making a mess all over the place.

“i should probably start cleaning up.” it turns out san also isn’t discreet when it comes to hiding the disappointment in his face, because no sooner than those words leave your mouth, the dimple is gone and he’s sat a little straighter, a little more ridged, like when the professor points him out in the middle of the class and the golden boy can’t stomach all the attention being on him. “but, what were you gonna say?”

“oh,” and it’s like he’s just remembered that yes, there is something he wants to say. “i missed you in class yesterday.”

it catches you off guard, leaving you to almost drop the whistle you’ve been fiddling between your fingers for the past few minutes. something about sitting so close to him while both of you are dressed so scantily has you feeling unnerved, like you need to run away as fast as possible, yet also wanting to plant yourself right in his lap.

“i didn’t think,” you’re cut off by your own throat, dry and desperate for a drink under his intense gaze. san is a walking contradiction, you think, with his sharp cheekbones and soft heart, his intense eyes and his easy-going smile. his presence gives you never-ending whiplash, never sure if he’s more angel than devil. “i didn’t think you noticed.”

“how could i not? there was no one to laugh with me at professor nam and his weird toe-shoes!” his laugh is infectious, willing your own to make an appearance. 

the sound of distant muffled yelling fills the air of the swimming pool and it isn’t hard to recognise wooyoung’s high-pitched laughter amongst it. clearly, their childish arguing has carried on into the changing rooms. it surprises you in no way, already more than used to their antics.

their rivalry is one for the ages, all of them constantly bumping heads for the spot of the top swimmer on campus, their sports scholarships becoming their pride and joy.

you suppose it doesn’t help that all four boys run in different circles, only really crossing paths when faced with swim-meets and days of practice. the senior, park seonghwa, runs with the richer kids of the college, all sharing their trust-funds and god complexes as a common interest. you’re not overly familiar with them, though you’re certain he and a particular blue-haired boy are rarely seen apart. jeong yunho, the tallest, is in with the jocks, which is mostly just because his taller friend is the captain of the basketball team. and jung wooyoung tends to surround himself with the stoners from the school, something you’d learned from kang yeosang, a dealer you shared a couple classes with back in your first semester.

san, ever the golden boy, drifts between a couple different groups but he can usually be found alone and enjoying his own company, if not being followed by a flock of his own little fan-club, men and women alike begging for just an ounce of his time.

your name echos around the room. your head snaps to the side and you find that san is now closer, staring at you in a way that’s making your insides knot up. you’ve seen that look only once before, and it done nothing but leave your knees and your ego bruised. “were you listening to me?”

“what? uh, yeah, i was,” you’re quick to lie, knowing it’s about to backfire when he breaks out in a challenging grin.

“really? what did i say?” he only allows you to stumble over words for a minute before cutting off your incomprehensible speaking when he grabs at your chin and tilts your head up, staring straight into your eyes. “that’s what i thought. you were too busy getting lost in that pretty little head of yours to pay attention to me.”

you stutter over a noise and settle for that as your response, though entirely incomprehensible and nonsensical. the way he continues to stare at you feels cruel, demons dancing around in those pretty eyes of his. demons that are telling him to tease, torture, torment the fragile eyes staring back at him, the same ones he’d delighted in watching fill up with tears a few weeks back, the pressure of his crown slamming against the back of your tight throat entirely overwhelming you to the point of crying, tears dripping down your cheeks and mixing with your own drool pooling over the swell of his balls.

“need me to repeat myself?” you’re slow to catch up to the fact he’s speaking again, and even slower to notice the hand resting on your knee. at first, you think you’re imagining things, the feather light tracing of nails over your soft skin a mere figment of your imagination. but, no, your eyes flash down to glimpse and his hand is there, fingers dancing over your naked skin like it’s their own personal stage and he’s intending to put on the show of a lifetime. he speaks your name. “questions are meant to be answered.”

“i-” san picks the perfect time to apply pressure on you, hand gripping the flesh on the lower end of your thigh. goosebumps spring to life at the feeling of his cold ring on your damp skin. it takes a shaky breath to try compose yourself but you do eventually manage to get a reply out. “sorry... please say it again.”

“huh,” he pauses to contemplate, slowly leaning his face closer to your own, giving you all the time to pull back if you want to. you stay still and his minty breath infects your senses while the hand on your leg replaces your thigh with your face, the grip he has on it forcing blunt nails to nip at your skin. normally, you’d worry about the marks it’s going to leave behind. right now, you want him to grip tighter, dig deeper into your flesh till he’s drawing blood and licking it off your cheeks. “how the fuck do you still sound so cute begging?”

“is that,” his other hand curls around the back of you, finding a resting place on your hip. the window of opportunity you once had to pull back or run away is slammed shut the moment he tugs you a little closer, the side of your body crashing into his naked chest. “what you said earlier?”

“oh, no.” san almost sounds like he’s cooing, a mocking tone in his voice that has your thighs clenching in a way you’re sure he notices. his eye flickering down to glance at them confirms your suspicions, the smirk taking over his features the metaphorical cherry on top. “i was just talking about how i’ve still not returned the favour.”

mind blanking out on you, you stare back at him in what you can only imagine to be a dumb-founded look, mouth slightly agape and teasing your answer.

what follows, however, is a resounding silence on your end.

“c’mon, princess, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what happened the last time i got you alone.”

forget? it’s all you’ve been able to think of every time you’ve seen him since, whether he was a figure in the corner of your eye during class or making his way down the campus car-park in search of his beaten up mustang.

each time, like an old record player, your mind plays on loop the way he looked staring down at you, long legs spread enough to fit you between them, closing in on you to trap you in place each time you swallowed him a little deeper; replaying the symphony of whiny moans and airy breaths you’d pulled from him, lips swollen and red from trying too hard to hold back his cries of pleasure; reviving the memory of his vice grip on your hair, tugging at the roots to tilt you back into the perfect angle for his hips to piston into your warm mouth, meeting his own crescendo in one final pathetic whimper of your name.

a whimper that’s pushed you over the edge several times since, fingers soaked in your own sins and mouth biting down on your pillow to keep your poor sleeping roommate oblivious to your actions.

“no,” an answer escapes you alongside a shaky breath, something about the way he’s slowly trailing his fingers down your neck and the intensity he’s staring at you with hypnotising you into forgetting all about the boisterous boys and their changing-rooms chanting. “haven’t forgot.”

it’s his turn to stay quiet and you begin to wonder if he’s recalling it too, if he’s reminding himself of how easily your bodies melted together, like candle-wax meeting a flame. the question of if he’s thought about the exact scene, hands stuffed down his pants while a dull ache builds in his wrist, burns the tip of your tongue.

but his eyes burn you more.

they’re usually wide, bright, full of that bubbly nature san is known all over for. but, if what people say is true and the eyes are the mirror to one’s soul, then san’s soul must be a dark pit made up of lustful glares and hooded eyelids, resting so low his eyes almost appear shut.

“then, don’t you agree that it’s my turn to have a taste?”

it’s the question to end all questions, no time to even think of forming an answer when his fingertips are dancing over your skin so rhythmically, like a practiced choreography when they curl and wrap themselves around your neck. they rest there for a heartbeat, and then another, before you feel it begin.

the pressure is dull, at first, and you think you’re imagining it. but it grows, like a seed under the sun, blossoms into thorns squeezing around your airways, a deformed rose made from the red marks his fingers will be sure to leave behind.

you try to breath in, only for it to get caught somewhere between your lips and his tightening hold.

“you’re too fucking pretty, you know?” the hand on your hip has found a new home on your cheek, palm warm and thumb rough as he swipes it over your bottom lip. “all i can ever think about around you, even when you were drooling all over my balls.”

you want to answer, you really do. but between the hand around your throat and the heat shooting straight for your core, burning up in a puddle of arousal, you can’t. all you can do is watch the man before you, raven hair a beautiful mess just begging for some fingers to be ran through it and stare promising to ruin you in the best way possible.

the silence pleases him.

“y’know, it’s so hard to get you alone. always got someone wanting to talk to you, stealing your attention. do you even know how many stupid parties i had to attend to finally get the chance to talk to you?” san pauses, like he’s waiting for you to relay an answer, guess a number. he loosens up the grip on your neck, teasing your skin with a few soothing strokes of his slender fingers, lulling you into a state bordering insanity. “no answer, angel? or are you lost in that pretty little head again?”

“i’m,” your voice is but a whisper, raspy with your new found thirst. “trying to figure out what you want from me.”

if it’s the wrong or right thing to say, you’re soon to find out, the sharp faced boy releasing a dangerously low chuckle as he takes a hold of your chin. like a pretty doll, you move any time and any way his fingers command you to, finding yourself staring right up into his eyes, a swirl of melting caramel that reminds you of how sweet yet sultry every inch of him is. lips near touching, he refuses to break eye contact as he speaks up once more, sealing both your fates when his breath hits your face.

“then let me show you what i want.”

his mouth comes down on yours like it’s the answers to all your prayers and, yet, all your nightmares.

it excites you how easily he works his lips over your own, captivating every inch of you when he tilts his head to the right and deepens the kiss. the rhythm to his kiss is a mismatch of beats, where one moment your lips are moving in a sensual waltz, grazing tongues and dipping heads to get rid of that inch of a space remaining between your bodies, and the next moment your tongues are tangled in a tango, the kind where his teeth send blood rushing to your lips with every bite he drags over them and his hand drags shivers down your spine as it makes its way down your body.

yet it terrifies you how willingly you succumb to san’s touch, intoxicated by whatever witchcraft he currently holds over you. there’s a deadliness to the way his lips part from your own only to begin a seamless descent down your jaw and the expanse of your neck, a poisonous element to the way his hand once again finds itself clutching the meat of your thigh.

the moment his fingertips meet the bottom of your shorts, you’re wishing you’d never slipped them on in the first place, every fibre of your being growing angsty under the weight of his suddenly halted hand. it stays still for an immeasurable amount of time, grazing over the bottom of your shorts occasionally while he continues to mouth at your neck.

like mosses and the great sea, san parts your legs with little to no effort, creating a pathway for his fingers to travel further up your thigh. blunt fingernails drag up your skin, a trail of goosebumps being left behind, a visible marking of where he’s touching you.

his movements halt too soon for your liking, too much distance between his lithe fingers and your body’s very core.

“have you figured out what i want yet, pretty?” his voice is a stark difference to the usual light-hearted, almost squeak-like tone you’ve grown used to hearing from the smiley boy. right now, there’s no trace of humour in the thick rasp and there’s no time for smiling while he’s glaring down at you through hooded eyes.

something compels you to nod your head, even though you’re a little too lost in the thoughts concerning what you want, rather than what the devil incarnate by your side wants.

“you have?” the words come out in a layer of amazement, and you have to wonder if it’s because of the lie you’ve just told or the way your legs have closed in around his hand, trapping it between them. “i want to know what you want, though.”

you want his thumb to stop stroking over the flesh of your inner thigh.

you want his eyes to stop gazing down at you like you’re the perfect prey.

you want him to stop teetering your impending pleasure on a string.

you want-

“you.” is all you manage to breath out.

it seems to do the trick, however, your point getting very much across to him. a softness flickers over his features, brows unfurling and smirk curling up into a full smile for what feels like an eternity, but is actually no more than a couple of seconds before his devilish aura is back.

lips meet lips again, the desperation and force behind each stroke of his tongue against yours the same as before. san, much to your delight, seems to grow just as impatient as you’ve been since the moment he welcomed himself into the empty space next to you on the bench.

one hand still resting between your thighs, his other seizes the opportunity to drag your body closer, so close that you have no choice but to swing one leg over him and slot yourself in his lap.

there was one time, in the middle of what you’ve deemed to be the most boring lecture ever, that you had thought about what it would feel like to sit in choi san’s lap. unintentionally, of course, for how could anyone look over at him in those grey sweatpants, legs manspreading like it was nobody’s business and pen tapping away at the table in front of him, and not daydream about being perched in his lap, head resting somewhere between his shoulder and his soft hair?

you’d imagined him to be the embodiment of soft and comfortable, warm and reassuring the way he’d lazily lay an arm over your hip to make sure there’s no risk of you slipping out of your new seat. you never, for the life of you, imagined you’d feel the outline of his dick resting against your ass the first time you finally claimed your throne.

choosing to not dwell on the heavy feeling of him pressed against you, you choose instead to focus on the way his lips trail away from yours and make their descent towards the top of your chest.

his hand abandons post between your thighs and rises to the surface, where long fingers begin to pull at the straps of your red swimsuit, successfully manoeuvring the nylon material till it’s bunched around your midriff and your breasts are exposed to the damp air of the swimming hall. 

with no want left to play around, he dives right in to dragging his lips down the upper swell of your left breast. you imagine he can feel the beating of your racing heart beneath the goosebump littered skin. it doesn’t take long for his tongue to enter the scene, skilfully flicking over your hardened nipple a couple times before enveloping his mouth around the bud.

one, two, three sucks and he’s moving on to your right breast. there’s no lead up, this time, simply his mouth finding delight in toying with your body while he busies his hand with your left side, thumb and pointer finger rolling and tugging and spreading the remnants of his saliva over your heated skin.

the straw that breaks the camel’s back, and has you arching your own, is the faintest pressure of his teeth biting down on you. it dances on a thin line between pleasurable and painful, exhilarating enough to make you throw your head back as a moan slips past your lips. it echoes in the empty room, replaying your own sound for both of you to hear again and again before the chain is broken by a giggle.

his giggle.

“why are,” he picks the right time to trail his fingers down your body, dragging your swimsuit with them till it sits uncomfortably tight around the top of your hipbones, skintight fabric digging into the damp skin. “you laughing?”

“has anyone ever told you how pretty your tits are?” it’s crude and heartwarming all at once, quite like the man who says it and the little smile he shoots up in your direction as he rolls his tongue over your nipple once again.

“no, i can’t say they have.” the hands that have been resting on his shoulder, grasping them in a vice grip in fear of slipping off of him and and directly onto the concrete floor, gain enough confidence for you let one slide around to the back of his neck and thread your fingertips in the back of his locks, hair as soft as you’ve always imagined it to be. “you’re the first.”

“i’ll wear that title with honour,” he seems to delight in the way you’re carding through his hair, eyes closing while he tilts his head back further into your touch. a delighted sigh follows. “has anyone ever asked you to sit on their face?”

“again, no.”

“another honourable title for me, i guess.” san’s giving you whiplash, with all this switching between being his usual goofy self and the man that minutes before was speaking profanities on how you’d looked choking on his dick. he peaks his eyes open again, slowly, adjusting to the bright lights he stares up at each time he’s doing the backstroke. when he has the nerves to smile at you, all dreamy eyed and relaxed sitting beneath your body on the bench. “now, can you please stand up and get naked so you can fuck yourself on my tongue?”

this time, it’s your laugh that echoes in the air.

“stop, i’m being serious!” he seems to whine his way through his words, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly in a way you’re certain is going to drive you insane. “i can’t go another second like this, you literally sitting on my dick, without blowing my load. and i really don’t feel like having to explain to coach kwon why my team speedos are stained in cum.”

“you’re so-” you give up on trying to find a single word to describe him, knowing there’s no word that can quite capture choi san’s essence. “okay, okay, fine, but you kind of need to let go of me for me to, y’know, stand up.”

“oh, sorry bout that.” san’s sheepish smile shouldn’t be this cute, not when it’s followed by him removing his hands from your half-naked body.

reluctant, your feet meet the ground and you stand up from his lap. he seems to move quicker than you, no hesitation to be seen as he twists his body around and lays along the bench on his back, eyes all the while watching you expectantly.

your fingers are far from as nimble as his, and there’s a shake to them, meaning you’re a lot less slick with how you pull the swimsuit off yourself. you opt for killing two birds with one stone, dragging your shorts down alongside the red suit, till both are pooled around your feet and you’re begging with every cell in your body that you look more graceful than you feel, stepping out of the leg holes.

in all honesty, you’re more embarrassed with the fact he’d watched you remove your clothes than with how you’re now stood naked, legs a little shaky and the wetness gathering between your folds you’re suddenly so much more aware of, the cool air fighting against your pulsating heat.

“well?” san speaks with expectation, legs bent at the knee while the balls of his feet rest on the edge of the bench. “are you gonna just stand there or you gonna sit on my face?”

“are you... sure you want me to?” even you feel the idiocy behind asking such a thing, when he’s laying right there with eyes full of glee and a raging boner pressed against his hip, nothing but the familiar colours of your college to stop you from seeing him all his naked glory. still, you can’t help elaborating. “i mean, the bench isn’t exactly sturdy and, i mean, what if i slip off of you?”

“y/n, are you joking? you have to be joking!” his offence is playful enough to ease a little of the hesitation inside of you. “do you see these puppies, baby? these are my mad gains from flailing my silly little arms around in a pool six days a week!”

you think this can’t be real as you watch the golden boy of the school put on a show, flexing his arms in an effort to display his muscles and voicing the most ridiculous words that not even he seems to be taking seriously, a bubble of laughter popping in every sentence.

“i’m not gonna let you slip, now hurry up!” again with the whining.

“god, you’re so desperate!”

“for you? always.”

the following minute is made up of wobbled steps and a poor attempt at amping yourself up, repeating mantra after mantra in your head that you are the sex goddess and no man is going to make you feel nervous. not even if that man has a jaw one could slice diamonds with.

he’s got a firm grasp of your thighs before you’ve even got the chance to get comfortable, legs a little shaky as you hover over his naked chest and will your knees to find grip on the bench beneath them.

“come closer, my tongue’s not that long!” san’s pulling you up, closer, all the way to where his wanton mouth awaits you. as if to give you a preview of what awaits you, the kisses from before reduced to nothing, his tongue pops out to run over the smooth of his bottom lip. you repeat the process of trying to find balance, a position in which you don’t need to worry about toppling overboard. though, with the way his finger squeeze into your thigh, you doubt you’ll have to worry about that truly happening. “comfortable?”

“as i’ll ever be.”

“all the people that would die to be in your position, and you say that?” he tsks, tongue hitting off the roof of his mouth before a blow of air hits against your folds and, though it’s faint from the distance still between his mouth and where he wants it to be, it sends a jolt of excitement up your spine. “i’ll just have to make sure i over-perform, make you more eager for next time.”

neither of you choose to dwell on the words next time.

him, too occupied with getting his first taste, tongue licking a strip up your core and coming to a stop as the tip of it bumps against your clit.

you, too busy having the air knocked out of your lungs, hand unconsciously finding safety in gripping his hair as you lurch forward momentarily, mouth falling open in a quiet gasp that echoes around and around.

“hmm, make sure you hold on tight.” you know he’s teasing you, with his words, and with his eyes, and with his mouth that seems to find enjoyment in trailing itself over your clitoral hood and up your pubic bone. “you smell mouthwatering, you know? enough to make a man go feral.”

the chance to reply never comes, not when san makes his way back down to your clit and greets it with the stroke of his flattened tongue. every tiny nerve sparks to life under his touch and you feel yourself grow wetter, a wave of warm arousal leaking out of your hole. his tongue dives down to welcome it, not allowing more than a single drop- landing on his chin- to go to waste.

you don’t even notice the lack of his grip around your left leg until you feel it: the first few seconds of his fingertips probing around your soaked cunt, coating themselves in your liquid pleasure until it’s dripping down the back of his hand.

the first finger to enter your hole is gentle, tentative to the way your body receives him, his pointer and ring finger keeping your folds spread and allowing him the full view of the middle one slowly disappearing from sight, burying itself in the warmth of your pussy. distracted, his mouth pulls back and his head meets the bench again while his eyes soak in the sight above him, flickering up to catch your reaction when another finger enters you, this time with a lot less care as it forces you open around it.

“so pretty,” he mutters the words, more to himself than to you, delighting as he witnesses you struggling to bite back a pathetic moan when his digits curl within you. he repeats the action a couple times, flicking his wrist back and forth, fingers brushing over your tight walls each time and culminating in a curl that has him pressing against the spongy-like flesh inside. “so, so pretty.”

your hips begin to rut against his hand, meeting every one of his thrusts with perfect timing that has him reaching deeper, further, better places inside of you. all the while he’s just watching and admiring the furrow in your brow and the way the swells of your breast bounce in sync with you.

your pussy clenches tighter and his fingers fight to reach deeper before spreading themselves wider in an attempt to scissor you open. he’s giving it his all, a third finger slipping in despite the dull ache setting in his wrist while he coaxes you closer and closer to the tipping point.

san takes just as easy as he gives, and it’s that fact alone that drives him to pull his hand back, fingers withdrawing from you and the pleasure you’re pursuing.

“why’d you-” you heave through heavy breaths, brain fuzzy from the unvoiced orgasm you were so close to having, every nerve ready to tingle, every muscle ready to tremble, every toe ready to curl. “stop?”

“because,” the wet smack of his fingers hitting against your clit is louder than the whimper that drops from your mouth. san hears both, however, and grins, quickly landing another smack against your engorged clit. “the goal is to make you cum on my face, not my fingers. consider them the appetiser, something to awaken your senses.”

his tongue licks in an upward motion, starting from the tip of your taint and ending at your clit, and you get deja-vu to just minutes before, when you’d first felt his tongue on your melting skin, the saliva it leaves in a trail behind it serving to cool you down. a shiver runs up your spine as he blows air onto your cunt, the pressure of it doing wonders to stimulate your clit.

“would you stop?”

“look who’s whining now.” san, despite what he says, does as you ask and puts an end what feels like unending teasing- really, it’s hardly been a minute but the pulsing of your heat and the loss of a climax leave you no room to think about something as abstract as time.

his lips make a victorious return, wrapping themselves around your clit and sucking against the pulsing nub. every so often, he delivers a couple kitten licks- ups and downs, sides to sides, figure eights- before swiftly returning to kissing your most intimate parts.

in an attempt to make your toes curl, he dips lower and teases the tips of his tongue over your entrance, wet muscle moving over wet skin and tastebuds covering themselves in your essence, till the moans echoing off the walls are indistinguishable between san’s and your own.

“you can move,” he grunts into you after a few minutes of repeated alternating between kissing your clit and tonguing at your hole. it’s muffled with the way he’s holding you down against his face and you feel his lips brush against your lower ones as he speaks. “need you to move. wanna see you use me, pretty.”

and, who are you to deny the man?

you’re hesitant at first, just like you were all those weeks ago as you sank to your knees for him. you test the waters and give a single roll of your hips. it feels good, great, especially when paired with his own efforts at dragging his tongue over you.

it takes a few more attempts, and san’s patience wearing thin to the point he resorts to grabbing a firm hold of your arse cheeks and planting you flat on his mouth, tongue flat and eyes staring up at you in a demand to move, goddamn it. 

move you most certainly do, grinding down on his tongue like you’ve done many a time with different men’s cocks. it’s messy, sloppy in the way that his spit mingles with your wetness, a cocktail of fluids sliding down his throat, and painting his lips, and dribbling down his chin as he eats you like a man starved that’s alas getting a taste of the sweetest fruit.

the rhythm of your hips is thrown off when the man beneath you switches from having you grinding down onto his flattened tongue to slipping the muscle inside of your hole, thrusting it as far as up as the length of it allows him to. with every time your body comes crashing down on his mouth, the tip of his nose bumps against your clit, forcing you to angle yourself upwards to gain more of the friction.

hands find hair, lips part in unabashed moans, thighs shake with the oncoming of an orgasmic state of mind.

the moment builds too quickly, too unexpectedly, like the ghost of your stolen climax is back with a vengeance and set on ensuring there will be no denying it this time.

“s-shit,” your eyes squeeze shut, too scared to look down at his ecstasy filled eyes in fear of it being what finally tips you over the edge. “i’m gonna- ah- gonna cum.”

san pays no mind to your warning. if anything, he takes it as a challenge, an invisible timer beginning in his head and forcing him to see how quickly he can get you to unravel all over his face. he’s getting everything he asked for, your naked body a mess above him as you fuck yourself on his tongue and your hands, with minds of their own, sliding up to grab and squeeze at your tits.

he watches how the pastel blue nail polish clashes with the darkened colour of your abused nipples, fingers working to pinch, and twist, and pull at them as you lose yourself in the moment.

when you cum, it’s with rolled-back eyes and shaky thighs, his hands gripping at you tighter to steady you as you sway above him, his tongue working at coaxing you through your high.

he licks up every drop of cum he can manage, until you’re cringing in overstimulation and reaching down to push him away. he let’s you move him, mouth moving to trail a couple kisses over your inner thigh, something akin to lipstick stains- yet so much dirtier in nature- being left behind on your soft flesh.

“told you i wouldn’t let you fall,” he’s the first to speak, partly because he correctly thinks you’re incapable of forming anything coherent in the afterglow of your orgasm, but mostly because he wants- no, needs to hear you praise him.

needs to hear you praise him like he’d done for you that night, eyes still hooded and chest visibly heaving as he finished processing watching you swallow every spurt of hot cum he’d shot down your throat. the praise never comes.

well, at least not from you.

at first he thinks he’s imagining the sound of clapping. it’s slow, and booming, and tinted with the slightest hint of sarcasm. it grows louder though, far too loud for it to just be in his imagination. the stilling of your body, going rigid as you fall back onto his chest, the sticky remnants of your orgasm cold against his heated skin, confirms that you hear the clapping too.

“bravo, choi. always thought your reputation with the ladies was a little overhyped, but i stand corrected.”

never has he hated the sight of park seonghwa so much, not even in the times they’ve been head-to-head in the final lap and the older male’s offensively bright swim-cap is all san can see every time he twists his head to catch a breath of air.

the three swimmers stand on the opposite end of the swimming pool, all in various stages of undress.

there’s wooyoung, who looks like he’s not so much as dried himself with a towel, still dressed in his team swimwear. and yunho, who’s got a towel wrapped around his waist messily, hair damp against his forehead and likely smelling of the cheap shampoo provided in the locker-room showers. lastly, seonghwa, who’s seemingly fully dressed spar for one of those irritating long coats san always sees him trailing around campus in.

one look into your panicked eyes is enough for san to spring into action, fumbling to sit himself up and pull your body flush against his, facing your naked back in the direction of his rivals.

he bites back a groan as you shift in his lap, unknowingly- or maybe you do know- pressing your soaked centre against his erection, which already strains inside the confines of the nylon material, leaving very little to the imagination.

“do you mind?” he’s glad the words come out clearly, booming across the pool at them and their unwavering staring.

“not at all.”

san holds you tighter against him, eyeing at your discarded swimsuit on the floor as he listens to a shuffle of footsteps. assuming the three men have made their way back into the locker-room, he’s speechless when he looks up to find them approaching the bench, seonghwa leading the trio with a secure grip on the back of wooyoung’s neck, whose eyes can’t seem to leave the floor, while yunho trails a little behind them, one hand grasping onto the towel around him.

“get your hands off her!” he leans back, pulling you with him, in an attempt to stray out of seonghwa’s reach as he extends his hand out. he fails, however, and the tips of seonghwa’s elongated fingers brush over your shoulder.

a shiver runs down you, one that san feels, the unexpected touch tickling your nerves.

“she’s a grown up,” the eldest of the men muses as he builds a rhythm out of how his fingers soother over your sweat slicked skin. “who i’m sure can speak for herself if she wants my hands off her.”

out of all the men, seonghwa has always been the one san despised most. between the constant boasting of wealth- money he acquired through labor, though not the working kind- and the disrespect he’s never had a problem showing towards others, he never fails to strike a nerve, awakening a dark part of san’s brain that activates his fight or flight response. by far, however, his arrogance is the worst, that sense of entitlement that drives him to think everything and everyone is a piece of clay for him to mold and manipulate till they fit his ideal shape.

the rich boy’s hand smoothes over your naked shoulder and san can’t resist glaring up at him.

“c’mon san, now’s hardly the time to be modest,” behind the oldest swimmer, yunho and wooyoung seem to be battling an inner conflict, yunho fighting to keep his towel in place and wooyoung fighting to keep the shame off his face while his dick visibly strains against the confines of his chlorine-covered swimwear. “not after the show you two just put on.”

“we didn’t,” it’s the first time you manage to speak since covering san’s tongue in your cum, breathing at last steady and face hidden from everyone’s view, much to san’s despair. “know you were watching.”

“and, if you had known, would you have stopped?” yunho is the one asking the question and, suddenly, san’s so much more aware of what exactly he’s hiding underneath his towel.

you give no answer.

“of course she wouldn’t,” seonghwa answers for you, hand moving to grasp the back of your neck. with no warning, he grips a little too tight for comfort and and yanks you backwards, till you’re staring right into san’s eyes and the only thing keeping you perched in his lap is seonghwa’s body pressed flat against yours. “there’s nothing a whore loves more than an audience, right?”

if put on trial in a court of law and sworn to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, over whether or not you’d just clenched around nothing at park seonghwa’s degrading name, you’d plead that you never did such a thing.

you’d be found guilty.

“poor woo nearly came untouched just watching you two. isn’t that right?” the eldest turns to stare back at where you imagine wooyoung to be. “pretty boy nearly whined just at the thought of being in san’s position, a mouth full of cunt and someone using him like the fuck-toy he is.”

the air grows thick, between you, and san, and every other living being in the room. it feels like the walls are closing in on themselves with every second that passes, the sweat dripping down your back and coming to a rest between your arse cheeks evidence that the space is heating up. or maybe it’s just your body, hardly processing the high it’s just come down from and there’s already another source for a new-found arousal, a source in the shape of three muscular men stood behind you and one beneath you, eyes wary as he gazes into your own, like he wants to ask if you’re okay but all the blood is too busy circulating in his crotch for his brain to be productive.

“now, i hardly think it’s very nice of you to get our wooyoung all riled up and not even offer to help him out.” you decide you’re being lulled into a false sense of safety the second you feel the pressure of seonghwa’s hand leave your skin. behind you, there’s a shuffling of footsteps that call you to crane your neck and catch a glimpse of what exactly is going on but san’s eyes beg you to keep staring into his, to count the galaxies that dance within them while he grips at your waist. “so the chance to offer is off the table and you’re simply going to do as told. doesn’t that sound easier, hmm? no having to make pesky decisions, just spread those legs and follow orders.”

at last, you get your first glimpse at jung wooyoung.

he sits down on the bench, no more than a breath of space between where you and san are perched. he’s a vision in himself, shoulders hunched and embarrassed face the same shade of red as the tip of his cock, an angry looking bulbous head poking out the top of far-too-tight speedos.

san’s grip tightens the longer you stare at the other boy, gaze dancing over the shape of his body and mouth-watering as, for the first time, you see the appeal of jung wooyoung. never before have you understood why eyes follow him in the hallways, like he’s more than just another pretty boy on campus- something that’s in abundance. but you see it now, understand the appeal of his stand-out nose; and the veins that run down his arms; and floppy style to his hair, that seems to be calling out to have your fingers running through it. 

with no prior warning, the grip on your hips tightens even more, till san is digging crescents into the soft skin and he’s lifting you, off of his lap and right into wooyoung’s.

the usually boisterous boy’s eyes meet yours, no longer filled with that spark of defiance and, instead, glazed over in tears, a quiet pleading being exchanged between you.

only, you’re unsure what he’s begging of you.

“are you going to just sit there,” seonghwa speaks up, boredom in his tone that has you picturing him rolling his eyes and picking at his manicured nails. “or are you going to help the poor pup cum?”

“what?!” that certainly helps you find your voice, and the guts to turn around and look at the man.

you find him stood closer than you imagined, with tailored trousers hugging his thighs and a perfectly ironed shirt tucked into them, the last few messy buttons the only indication he’d rushed to dress himself. eyes looking past him, you find more of a friendly aura in yunho, who, despite fighting a battle against the towel wrapped around his figure, manages to shoot a smile at you.

and then there’s san, who stands with muscled arms crossed over his chest and a painfully obvious boner resting in the confines of his swimwear, though he’s done a better job at keeping himself concealed than the boy beneath you. his face appears indifferent, yet the twitch in his eye speaks of a tamed anger, a frustration he’s yet to unleash on the men who’d interrupted him amidst his feast.

“are you now deaf along with being dumb or something?” the eldest pulls your attention back to him with little effort, a smirk meeting the glare you shoot his way. “you made that brat hard, now do your job and fix the mess you’ve made.”

words of protest get lost in a surprised gasp as the boy in question takes your hand in his, veiny hand guiding you down to a veiny shaft. wooyoung wraps both of your fingers over his leaking cock, his holding yours in place around him while he ruts his hips up once, twice into your hold, the action sending his swimwear even further down the his length and exposing nearly the full sight of it to the swimming hall.

you don’t mean to compare, yet you’re incapable of ignoring the fact that while wooyoung may be on the slightly shorter side compared to san, he’s certainly leading in the thickness department, with a mushroomed head and the prettiest trail of trimmed hairs leading down his pelvis.

he guides you over his shaft a number of times, a little less shy now as he outwardly whines when your thumb runs over his tip, wiping away the fat bead of precum resting upon it. at some point, he moves his hand away, needing both of his free to lean back on the bench, yet yours keeps moving at it’s own volition, stroking him in a pattern of threes, interrupting every trio with a swipe over his tip or a fondle of his still-concealed balls.

“please,” the whine in his voice is so unlike the jung wooyoung you’ve watched week after week, hurling abuse and echoing boasts of his own talents while keeping himself afloat in the swimming pool.

“he asked nicely.” you’d just about forgotten about everyone else in the room, until seonghwa’s irritatingly unbothered voice serves to remind you of his presence. “rule number one: good behaviour is rewarded.”

“what do i,” you interrupt your own question to glance over wooyoung once more. “do?” you pinch your thigh, skin stinging as nails bite it, and confirm with yourself that this is not a dream but, in fact, very much real.

jung wooyoung is hard and begging you to do something.

“i don’t care how you do it, just put one of your holes to good use for once and make him cum.”

there’s still an echo of seonghwa’s voice by the time you successfully manage to rid wooyoung of his swimwear, the damp fabric clinging to the warm skin and the taut muscles of his thighs. the boy isn’t much help either, seemingly reduced to nothing but a writhing, panting mess instead of someone competent enough to raise himself off the bench just enough for you to undress him.

the sight is mesmerising, one you’re certain will remain ingrained in your memory till the day you die: wooyoung, disheveled and untouched, with his achingly hard cock pressed flat against his lower stomach, his swimmer-thighs spread with a set of balls between them that you find yourself near salivating over as a trickle of his own precum runs down them.

“your cock’s...” you begin to speak, yet trail off as your digits wrap themselves around his shaft, just to delight in the way his breath jumps when you drag your hand upwards and give a soft squeeze as you reach the head. “so pretty, woo.”

“youngie.” seonghwa cuts in from behind you. “he prefers to be called youngie when he’s getting his cock teased.”

“yeah, youngie?” you try it out.

instantly, he nods and something akin to a whimper flies out of him.

fascinated by his shaky breaths and his pretty chest, where warm, tanned skin appears to be near glowing under the swimming halls bright lights as his cheeks flush a palette full of reds and pinks, your eyes are completely fixed on him. there’s something vulnerable and breakable about the way he’s looking at your with the widest of eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip receiving countless abuse from his teeth.

never have you been so desperate to push someone past their own limits.

officially running on nothing but pure instincts, you close your mind off to thoughts, like how the boy you’d spent weeks avoiding and missing is stood only metres away, witnessing the way the tip of your finger teases over the slit of his sport rival’s cock. or like how park seonghwa, perhaps the campus’ most infamous trust-fund baby, seems to have complete control of the situation at hand, yourself and jung wooyoung nothing but idolised dolls he’s moving into whatever obscene position he wants you in.

instead, you focus on how wooyoung’s eyes roll back and he lets out a gasp when you gather up fluids from within your salivating mouth and part your own lips, watching how your own spit drips onto his lower stomach, and your hand, and his painfully hard cock.

the saliva serves not only as a visual pleasure, something that’s awakening inside of you at the sight of it leaving you with whole new kind of excitement bubbling along your body, but as a physical pleasure for wooyoung, who seems to have no protest to how much easier it is to slide your hand up his length with the added lubrication of your own spit. 

“fuck...” he curses under his breath and his hands find purchase on your body, one gripping your hip while the other grabs at your forehand, like he’s scared you’ll release the grip you have on him and strip away the sweet release of friction. “don’t just focus on the tip- shit, ah- play with my balls too.”

“wooyoung!” ready to oblige, ready to give the pretty faced boy anything he demanded of you, you’ve no time to think of a reply before the ringmaster of this circus reminds you of his overlooking presence behind your back. “stop speaking like an ungrateful brat and take what you’re given. or else... well, i’m sure you don’t need reminding of what happens to pups that misbehave.”

the way jung wooyoung’s whole body grows rigid beneath you, paired with the countless times park seonghwa has butted in to speak on the boy’s sexual preferences, leaves you with the sense that the two are not only acquainted with how each other’s bodies move underwater..

“s-sorry,” this is not the voice of boastful jung wooyoung, who near bounces down the college halls and airdrops nudes in class because he’s bored. this is a voice that’s soft and meek. like a beady-eyed puppy, so quick to submit to it’s owner. “just feels too good. i’m sorry”

“yeah, you will be sorry.” seonghwa’s hand is cold against your back and it lulls a shiver out of you as fingers trickle down your spine like water off a duck’s wings. part of you hates him for stealing wooyoung’s attention off of you just as you were beginning to revel in it, a larger part of you wants to know why the sternness in his voice is enough to have your clit aching to be touched. “spitfire, be a good cocksleave and sit on his dick.”

“ok, stop!” a sense of shame comes over you when it takes hearing san’s outburst to remember the fact he’s watching the scene unfold. “don’t you think you’re taking this too far now, park seonghwa? i know you and wooyoung have your... agreement on how you treat each other, but don’t drag someone else into it. not when she never even asked for this.”

“you had your tongue tasting the eighth wonder of the world on that bench twenty minutes ago, both of you knowing there was a chance you’d be caught, and you want to tell me no one was asking for this?”

“that was private! you guys are the ones who-”

“there’s no such thing as privacy in a public area. besides, it’s hardly like she’s not enjoying this. if anything, i think spitfire doesn’t like the way you’re getting in the way of her teaching youngie a lesson in obedience.” you’re naive to think no one would notice the way you’ve began to grind down on wooyoung’s cock, stealing whimpers out of him as the soaked lips of your pussy rubbed up against him and holding back your own moans each time his tip meets the bundle of nerves that make up your clit. “choi, if you’re that much of a pissy pants that can’t enjoy himself even just this once in life, then feel free to leave. i’m sure the four of us will be too occupied to notice your absence.”

you’re not paying close enough attention to figure out if san’s newfound silence is due to his departure, or if he’s simply too stunned to speak, your eyes focused on nothing and no one but the boy at your mercy.

the initial burn of wooyoung breaching your entry reminds you of how long it’s been since you’d been stretched open by something other than someone’s cold fingers or wagging tongue. it’s been more or less three long months of juggling test after test, assignments piling up on your desktop and a relationship with your now ex-boyfriend being tossed completely into the gutter.

not once had you thought your return to the world of sexual bliss would be in front of an audience, much less at the very place you work.

doubting that it’s been as long for him as it has for you, wooyoung still spares nothing when it comes to reacting to your touch. with eyes squeezing shut, head rolling back, abdomen muscles flexing along side every shaken intake of breath, the boy puts on a show so pornographic it puts the professionals to shame. a whine exits his lips, lips that carry marks of his own teeth and look like they’re in need of a healthy dose of chapstick, and look so disgustingly kissable that your own tingle at the thought.

all those rumours of jung wooyoung being a camboy rush to the forefront of your mind, feeling truer than ever when your eyes take in the bob of his adam’s apple, and the perfectly timed run of his tongue over his lower lip, and the pretty way in which the prominent veins in his hands looks as he clamps his grip down on your hips.

he’s a sight worth paying for. 

“are you okay?” not the first thing you’d imagined saying after sinking all the way down on his cock, the need to check up on him taking over before you’d even noticed it’s existence.

“yeah...” he sighs his way through the word, eyes still closed and grip still very much tight on your skin, blunt fingertips likely leaving crescent moons you’ll find yourself staring at for days to come, memories of this moment replaying in a rose-tinted haze. “just need a second, you- you feel good, fuck me.”

“i’m kinda already doing that, youngie.” you giggle, like a lovesick adolescent speaking to their crush of the week, but the boy’s instant smile upon hearing it puts out the fire of shame building in the pit of your stomach.

“hmm,” he hums back, acknowledging your words without giving you the satisfaction of hearing him tell you how you’re correct. “are you okay?”

wooyoung flips the question on you and it parallels with the way he pulls the rains in physically, lithe hips thrusting upwards in search of feeling more, reaching deeper inside of you. in the back of your mind you already picture a look of displeasure on park seonghwa’s face, scowling lips loading up to berate you and demand you take repossession of jung wooyoung’s sanity.

“yeah, i’m-” with the eldest man in mind, you stop and compose yourself, as well as you can while wooyoung’s mouthing at your neck, your collarbones, the tops of your breasts. “i’m wondering who told you you were allowed to touch me?”

control is easily regained, all it takes is your hand squeezing around jung wooyoung’s throat and your soaked walls clenching around his aching cock and he’s melting like ice cream on a warm summer’s day, leaving behind a sticky mess.

satisfaction and pleasure come crashing in tandem, wave after wave moving in motion with each lethargic roll of your body against the swimmer’s, who seems to be a quicker learner than you’d believed him to be, hands flying off your body like it was made up of hot stones and, instead, now holding a firm and grounding grip of the bench beneath you both.

“harder.” you feel a hint of emotion within park seonghwa’s voice this time he speaks. it’s fleeting, and hard to make out quite what feeling it is he’s experiencing, but it’s there and it’s certainly a step up from the usual shameless, egotistical, megalomaniac tone he takes on. “squeeze his throat tighter.”

under the possession of his commanding tone, you find yourself caving into his command, fingers pressing a little harder into wooyoung’s warm skin. the boy gulps down whatever pride he has and delivers a pleasured whine. you grind down harder and an evil, twisted part of you you’ve never met before longs to laugh at the way he so desperately is struggling to keep his composure, fighting back the urge to meet your hips with his own upward thrusts.

so, you do. 

“hear that, youngie?” seonghwa’s voice becomes less grating each time you hear it, once an unwelcome and intrusive thought but now a second voice and a valued player in a game of wreck the wooyoung. “you’re being laughed at. isn’t that just pathetic?”

“y-yes, fuck-” he falls victim to your walls clenching around him, gripping his cock in a vice grip. the image of confidence withers away so easily to reveal a teary-eyed, pretty-faced, cum-desperate man. ���i’m pathetic.”

“yeah, you are.” seonghwa circles his way around the rocking bench, no longer out of view hidden behind your back but, instead, staring you down with piercing eyes that cut through you like a knife to hot butter. “he’s getting close. never lasts long, really, even seen him cum untouched just from giving me head. but that’s okay, isn’t it youngie? you’re a slut for having your sack drained, huh?”

the swimmer beneath you has never looked redder than he does right now, secrets of his sexual nature getting exposed to the people he likely considers his biggest athletic competition. though you probably should, you don’t push him away when his face finds safety in the crook of your neck, parted lips covering your burning skin in sticky drool.

“don’t let him fool you guys, he’s into the degrading nature of it all. trust me.” you wonder if it should concern you the way seonghwa speaks about jung wooyoung as though he’s nothing but a pet, a possession of which he just so happens to have complete control over. you’re more concerned with the fact it excites you. “call him a good boy, i dare you.”

the words haven’t even formed in your throat and the boy between your thighs is gripping onto your waist a little tighter, lips near pouting and eyes screwed shut in uncontrollable pleasure, burning down his spine and threatening to push him over the edge of sexual bliss.

you consider having mercy, the inexperienced side of you thinking the boy looks like he’s full of shame and embarrassment. the throbbing of his rock hard cock repeatedly stuffing your aching cunt reminds you he’s getting off on the humiliation.

“is he a good boy, though?” you stare up at park seonghwa, not even sparing a whimpering wooyoung any attention as he begins a rambled protest to defend his good behaviour. “i mean, i don’t remember telling him he could touch me. do you, hwa?”

the hands that grip you tightly let go quick, like your skin were an unexpectedly warm stove, scorching his skin right off him.

“i don’t remember either,” the eldest’s agreement has you reeling in a way you never expected, filling you with a new found sense of control.

a control that is ripped away far too quickly, like park seonghwa sensed you growing falsely confident over the situation at hand.

like a shark circling it’s prey, the tall man makes his way back around the bench, each fall of his shoe-covered feet echoing in the quiet swim hall. click, click, click, and he’s right at your back, not a word uttered as the soft of his palm lands on the nape of your neck. achingly slow does it travel down the expanse of your back, not a single noise filling the space other than the rise and fall of your body on top of wooyoung’s and the same boy’s poorly contained moans and mewls of pleasure.

the silence is interrupted by your own shocked gasp, mouth falling agape in shock as your movements come to a complete halt. his hands, no longer soft and delicate, grip you in an iron-tight hold, fingers greedy as they dig into your meaty flesh with no mercy or regard for the pain it may inflict on you.

“no, get up,” like a switch was flipped in as little as a minute, park seonghwa’s voice has lost all sense of the excitement it had whilst he spoke on jung wooyoung’s dirty endeavours and has returned back to the cold, callous, commanding tone it had originally.

he sounds angry, feels angry in the way the fingers of his free hand tangle themselves in the hair at the back of your head and give a harsh tug, forcing your head back till you’re met with his scowling face and perfectly groomed hair, even in it’s dampened state it seems to frame his face perfectly.

“what?” you babble out, dumbstruck, much like the desperate boy beneath you who’s began to mutter apology after apology between pleadings of please no don’t do this and i promise i’ll behave, i’ll keep my hands to myself.

none of it works.

“you heard me. get. up.” the fingers on your waist tug, pull, drag you away from the quivering mess that has become of jung wooyoung, who near sobs as the cool air hits his now painfully hard cock, tip redder than the bottom of your favourite heels and a vein more prominent under his sensitive skin than the ones on his muscular arms. you’re not given much of a chance to process what’s happening before seonghwa speaks again. “wooyoung, up, now. you’re not getting to cum, so get off the bench and make room for someone else.”

the boy makes no further attempt to protest, cheeks painted pink in shame and chest shining with sweat as he shakily rises to his feet, head hung low when you watch him walk out of your line of sight.

then, your knees meet the floor.

park seonghwa chuckles as you go down, hands finding grip in your hair and forcing you to sit up right. heart beating faster, your mind begins to race with questions of what comes next, who comes next.

what dirty desires are about to be unveiled within you, forced into the unforgiving fluorescent lights of the swimming hall?

“jeong, you’re up,” seonghwa’s knee digs into your back and his fingers tug until your scalp begins to sting a little. you don’t want to like it but, in life, you don’t always get what you want.

there’s a series of shuffles behind you, followed by heavy footsteps. there’s no rush, yet no hesitation, just calm and collected footsteps of someone making their way over to do god knows what with you.

when jeong yunho, with his towel that’s looking a lot tighter around his crotch still around his waist, steps into frame, an inexplicable sense of comfort washes over you.

maybe it’s the way he smiles down at you, or the fact his hands brush seonghwa’s off of you, or the way his fingers take a hold of your chin once he’s seated in front of you.

maybe it’s just the fact he’s jeong yunho, campus himbo with a reputation for walking girls home at night just to make sure they’re safe and for singing britney spears with no shame each time the karaoke mic gets passed around.

whatever it is, it’s turning you on.

your knees are burning with fresh pain as park seonghwa shoves you closer to the mammoth of a man and you can’t help but swallow down the ball of anxiety growing in your throat.

everything about jeong yunho’s demeanour has always seemed large, with powerful arms that drag his body through the weight of water and large hands that effortlessly carry countless textbooks through the university halls; a tall frame that helps him stand out in any crowd and a personality loud enough to set off alarms; his thighs a muscular stairway leading up to a well rounded, remarkably defined posterior. it’s safe to say he’s carried a reputation for some time, one that consists of whispers between girls on campus who recount just how well endowed he really is. 7 inches, 9 inches, 12 inches, you’ve heard it all, each girl claiming it to be bigger than the last.

unfortunately, there’s no ruler at your disposal to uncover the truth of the rumours, but you confirm he’s certainly large as you watch him undo the towel. larger than you’ve ever seen before, with a thickness to match, and two heavy looking balls decorating the base.

he wraps a hand around it and you watch how he gives a light squeeze at the head, slowly sliding down the length of it till he reaches the tuft of groomed hairs on his pelvic bone. one of his hands alone holds half of his cock, leaving you almost certain you’d need to use both hands on him.

“d’you want it, sweetheart?” his words are teasing but his voice is soft, a complete one-eighty to the verbal berating you’ve been receiving- and enjoying- from park seonghwa.

you’re sure he notices the way you clench your thighs as he slaps his cock once, then twice against his stomach, the precum leaking out on to his tanned skinned.

there’s an itch inside your throat, one you imagine only he can scratch.

“you wanna taste it?” he’s still speaking to you through the arousal that fogs over your brain, commanding your tongue to swipe over your bottom lip as you burn your gaze at the glistening liquid on his warm skin, tastebuds aching to have him paint them in white.

you nod your head.

his own throws itself back, a chuckle rupturing out of his chest as he continues to tease himself with his hand.

“fuck, yeah, bet you can’t wait to taste my cock, feel it stab the back of your tight throat.” a smile should never look so sweet while it’s part of the same mouth spewing out such filth. somehow, jeong yunho makes it work. “gonna get it nice and wet for me, yeah? make it sloppy, i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock.”

the knee that’s suddenly digging it’s way into your back has no mercy. you wince, pull in a sharp breath and inch just that little bit closer to the bench. like a glove fits a hand, you slip right in between the muscled tree trunks that make up jeong yunho’s thighs. 

you wonder, if only momentarily, what sweet a death it would be to be crushed between them, taut muscles constricting the flow of air to your lungs like a boa with its prey.

but there’s a far more preferable way to be choked by the man before you, body carved out in such definition you fear michael angelo himself stands in admiration of it.

his hand snakes its way around your body, warm and heavy and imposing with the grip it settles for at the base of your neck. in spite of the sharp stab coming from behind- where you have no doubt one park seonghwa stands with disgruntled impatience written all over his irritatingly perfect face- there is no doubt in your mind that the man in front of you holds the reigns. with eyes of honey and lips of velvet, he peers down at you with a tendered expression, saying nothing yet everything with the gentle, repeated sooth of his thumb over your skin.

you need no verbal instructions this time around.

a hand grips the base of him as the other squeezes the flesh of your own thigh, piercing your skin with just enough pressure to assure you this is the reality you find yourself in, rather than some twisted, substance influenced dream.

the first taste is the sweetest, tongue a missionary sent into the foreign land of his body to discover the way he reacts as you drag it over the tip. he gives nothing but a squeeze to the back of your neck; and that crumbles you under his control.

with a few more kitten licks- for good luck, if anything,- the show begins with the parting of your lips, the widening of your mouth, the burning of your skin as you struggle with your ability to swallow him whole. you make it no further than a third of his length before he’s tugging gently on your roots and bringing you back to the surface of existence.

“breathe, okay,” his voice is gentle, calming your nerves yet sending your heart into a fit of patternless beats. “inhale, exhale, got it? through the nose, that’s gonna help you relax.”

doing as he says, you swallow three whole breaths. shaky, ragged, each feeling hollow in your chest in comparison to the weight of his cock on your tongue.

“pretty girl,” he practically coos, hand cupping your chin as his thumb smoothes over the swell of your bottom lip. it’s tender, sweet, and almost enough to make you forget the sight of his engorged cock that sits angrily between his tree-trunk shaped thighs, crying out for the return of your mouth’s affection. “someone’s gotta teach you to not be greedy, hmm? small little mouth of yours is no fit for me, don’t go choking on it.”

heat flashes between your thighs, your heartbeat dropping right down to your clit and leaving you with a burning ache, the kind only a gentleman like this could soothe. your fingers may have to do, however, if the stubborn arsehole behind you would be so kind as to let you enjoy yourself.

the way park seonghwa curls his hand round the front of your neck and flexes his nimble fingers- that goddamn family heirloom ring a punishing cold to your warm skin, near brandishing you as touched by some nepotism child- when you do so little as clench your thighs together to relieve the pressure, or lack-there-of, between your thighs tells you he’ll grant you no such fun.

“you’d need to have something big enough for her to choke on,” san, precious san. still here, still somewhere beneath this god-forsaken tin-can roof swimming pool, watching you bruise your knees and your ego for another man, another one of his team-mates. what must he think of you? has he lost whatever respect he may have had? does he think he’d been just another body to exchange fluids with, that night at the party? if you could just see his face, you’d not need to wonder all these things. his eyes, they always give him away, too earnest and pure for his own good.

“shut it, choi,” yunho’s bark isn’t half as loud as seonghwa’s booming commands have been, and are nowhere near as malignant. if anything, the gentle giant is humoured by his team-mate’s words, as if he knows they’re a preposterous thing to say about him. then again, you can’t imagine any man remaining humble about themselves if they were so well-endowed. “or do you wanna crack out the measuring tape again and remind yourself of just how much of me there is to choke on?”

silence.

it takes a few moments for the spotlight to return to you, a gradual shift from playful to lust driven energy encapsulating the broad frame of the man before. he cups your cheek, feather-light touch smoothing over your skin while his eyes burrow daggers into your soul.

why must his shoulders be so wide? it almost angers you as much as it sends a wave of heat between your legs.

almost, but not quite.

“‘s cute,” he half mumbles, distracted by the sight you paint below him on your knees, bruises already forming and thighs clenching for some relief of pressure. “your little pussy’s all wet just from having my cock in your mouth.”

“i think you’re forgetting she was bouncing on woo’s dick a few minutes ago, yunho,” the devil on your shoulder won’t let you rest, hand snaking through the threads of your hair and tugging on your roots. not enough to hurt, just enough to sting. “have some modesty.”

“sure, let’s act like i’m not the one who had her cumming all over my face a while ago.” san mumbles a string of words you wish you could unhear, face heating up as the shame burns through your bloodstream.

how had you gotten here?

you’re allowed no such freedom to ponder over previous actions as jeong yunho’s all encompassing frame works to remind you of where you find yourself: on your knees dressed in nothing but your own shame- shame which seems to slip off of you, piece by piece, baring you shamelessly to this pack of wolf-eyed boys’ for their eyes to feast upon.

strong, veiny hands reach out and drag you forwards, just an inch yet it’s all you need to feel the weight of park seonghwa’s domineering figure float off of you, rendering you under the control of this much larger, far smilier looking man. “eyes on me, okay? don’t wanna miss the way i’m about to make them roll back.”

there begins a game of push and pull, where jeong yunho pushes you closer and closer to his evident arousal, all the while teasing you as he pulls his hips back, keeping your waiting mouth open and empty, and oh-so frustrated at the feeling of being so close yet so far away from his dripping tip.

the first real taste you get of him does, in fact, nearly have your eyes rolling back. a kitten lick, barely there yet fully felt, running over the underside of his cock, a taste of salted skin, and musky sweat, and stale chlorine mixing in with the warmth of him flooding your senses. his reaction is no more composed than yours, blatantly parting his lips in a gasp and bucking his hips up, forwards, any direction they need follow to chase after your mouth.

happy to comply, you take pride in tasting him a second time, this time right over the growing drop of pre-cum pebbling on his tip. white flashes behind your closing eyes as his grip in your hair tightens, a pulse of heat firing straight down your spine as your mind floods with images of what it must be like to watch this man, this gentleman, this figure that so wholly encompasses what it means to be a himbo in this day and age lose his cool and revolt into his most carnal, basal instincts to take whatever pleasure he needs from you with a reckless abandon, burrow his throbbing cock down your throat till the beat of his heart takes over your own.

instead, you settle for wrapping your lips around him, at last, and letting him guide you just that little bit down his length. the weight of him feels nice, a strange sense of comfort birthing in your bones as you grow used to feel of him taking up your palate. his breaths seem to run in tandem with the inches he sinks deep between your parted lips.

a deep breath, he lowers you further, till your left cheek begins to bulge out.

tongue pinned to the floor of your mouth, you make use of it as best you can, rolling it over the bottom of his shaft and earning yourself a plethora of gratifying sounds, each deep and desperate and crooning straight out of jeong yunho’s broad chest. 

another deep breath, another inch.

for all the false dominance you wield over the situation, with the heat of your mouth and spill of your own saliva slickening his cock, his real and visceral dominance doubles it by tenfold, with a hand on the back of your neck, guiding your every move, and a knowing, gentle look cast downwards at you from where he sits propped on the bench, thighs a heavy mass to case your body between. a silly little voice in your head whispers a seductive tale of how easily this man could get you in a headlock and suffocate your fragile windpipes. a wave of heat, this one going right down to your core and forcing you to pay attention to it, shifting awkwardly and clenching the muscles in your own legs in hopes of getting some pitiful amount of pressure.

all breathing stops as he hits the back of your throat.

hands pulling tight, a biting pain ripping through your hair and a tired gag creeping out of your constricting throat, yunho holds you still and strong, as unmoving as the mountains that fill the horizon from your bedroom window.

he’s not even fully in, an arguably obscene amount of him still awaiting some form of attention beyond the spill of the spit filling up your mouth. but there’s nowhere for it to go, not within your mouth at least, and so you manoeuvre your hand up and grip the neglected inches, the tip of your pinkie teasingly brushing over the swell of his balls.

he lurches forward, gasping in a breath of air at last. “fucking christ- shit,” he grits his teeth. “her mouth’s warm.”

“well, obviously. this your first time getting a blowjob or something, jeong?” god, the reminder of seonghwa being here, somewhere behind you, fox eyes judging your every move and keeping his cool, no matter how hard you’d seen his cock straining in those ridiculous pant-suit trousers he sports. it’s sickening.

“yeah, yunho, watch out before you have a repeat of 2019.”

if the taller jeong wants to snap at the other, you never find out, instead dedicating yourself to the glory of worshipping him between your parted lips and tight throat, jaw ready to lock itself in place so long as it keeps him inside.

you treat him differently than you’d treated san that night. you’d been tipsy then, buzzing off the colourful shots of who-knows-what you’d been conned into downing a half hours before, mind hazy as you kneeled between him and teased your tongue over every crevice of him it could reach, dripping him in drool and working an ache into your overused tongue by the time you got watched him spill over the edge of ecstasy. that wasn’t even about san’s pleasure, no real care put into getting him off, your own selfish need to indulge in the pleasure of feeling, tasting, worshipping him taking precedence.

but, right now, you’re overwhelmingly sober, mind hazed only by a cloud of inexplicable lust that rolled in the moment san shot you his stupid smile, and you care about making jeong yunho cum. in fact, it’s the only thing on your mind as you bob your head up and down, letting his own hand guide your pace.  

“shh, shh,” he’s hushing your own struggles for breath and carding his fingers through the tresses of your hair, his legs clamping down on either side of you, pinning you in your rightful place. “taking it so good, baby. so fucking good.”

good’s not good enough.

you want to leave him mind-blown, exhausted, unhinged. you want him clenching his jaw, and baring his teeth, and stuttering over any praise he tries to give you. in fact, you need it, need that thrill-driven lust of collapsing the sanity of a man as broad and strong and capable as him.

so you pick up the pace, fight against the steady up-and-down of his grip and try to take just that little bit more of him in your mouth and down your throat, till you’ve no doubt there’s a visible bulge of where he sits down your windpipe. you think back on what he said- i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock- and work towards doing just that, mouth a fountain of over-flowing spit that paints lines down your chin and over his heavy balls. the hand at his base lightly drags the tips of its nails over his burning skin and you physically feel the way his cock jumps in your mouth, head twitching as his hips involuntarily jolt forwards.

eyes as wide as a deer in headlights, you glance up to stare into his own, only to find they’re rolling back in his head, too caught up in the headiness of having your mouth on him to visually focus. it’s erotic, tracing your eyes over the protruding vein in his neck and the unrhythmic heaving of his chest- like every breath he pulls is a rare gift and a miracle- and the straining of his muscled thighs that hold back his urge to buck freely into your mouth, use you as nothing but a hole to get himself off with.

your free hand stakes claim over your own sexual frustration, nimble fingers rubbing tight, slow circles over your clit in an attempt to just ease that heat burning you from the inside out.

“she’s touching herself, jeong,” not even the irritating, grating voice of park seonghwa’s unwanted commentary can take away the kick you’re getting out of working this man into a frenzy. “are you just going to let her, without your permiss-”

“shut up, park,” yunho is wrecked, voice divulging so far from that loud, boyish charm into a dark, broken sort of gruffed out thing, echoing straight out of his chest. but, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t listen to the other man, doesn’t force his eyes open to glance down in a hazed daze to witness your pathetic attempts to work your fingers over yourself.

only, he doesn’t tell you to stop.

he just... watches. and then smiles, squeezes out what can only be described as a broken whine, and tilts his head back once more, relinquishing all control of his body over to you. the scene divulging into a chorus of mumbled words, fuck and please and yes becoming the only word yunho knows, the only three you hear. 

only as he cums does jeong yunho regain that bit of self-control he’s lost, ripping your mouth off him- a stuttered mumble of i wanna paint that pretty face- and erupting in a mess of grunted moans, cock twitching in his palm as rope after rope of white, hot fluid shoots out of it. it’s messy, and disgusting, and sticky, marking the skin on your cheeks, nestling in your hair, dripping over your shut eyelashes.

the last drops land in your parted mouth as his grasp shakes and you regain the right to wrap your lips around his mushroomed tip.

lips stained in pearly white, cheeks and neck matching too. the throb of your neglected cunt, clenching itself around nothing but the mere thought of having jeong yunho stuff you full, break you in two and leave you spent.

the man in question is in a no better state, head thrown back and chest a heaving mess glistening with the shine of his own sweat. his mouth hangs open, near heaving in breaths of air and his hands, adopting a mind of their own, grip harder in your hair and hold you firmly in place, tongue laving over his sensitive tip, pushing him closer and closer to the ledge of overstimulation.

“fuck- uh, fucking look at you,” sweet voice, foul words. two fingers drag over your cheek, coating themselves in the sticky substance he’s painted you in. “drooling all over me.”

he’s right, you are drooling. down your chin, an uncomfortable damp coat covers your overheating skin as you continue to stretch your lips around his length, ready to rip another thigh-shuddering orgasm out of the man.

yunho grants you no such pleasure.

instead, a grip tugs back on your hair and, before you can feebly attempt to catch your fleeing breath, he’s pulling you up into his lap, straddling you across the well-defined muscles of his thigh. those big, capable hands he pushes himself through pools, and rivers, and all other bodies of water manipulate your limbs however he likes, a rag-doll free for him to toy with for as long as he sees fit.

“yun-” you don’t even manage to say his name properly, not when he grinds you down into his lap, smothering his tanned skin in your juices. the friction runs straight for your pulsing clit and you’re rendered to sinking into his welcoming arms, head collapsing into the crook of his neck, parted lips panting up a storm against his sweated skin.

“that nice for you, angel?” the soft words, the rough hands, the perfect roll of your hips. you feel like you could sob, break apart completely. yunho tracing a hand up the curve of your spine and soothing his long fingers over a knot in you back doesn’t help your case. “bet it is. little bit of release to all that tension you’ve been feeling, yeah?”

you think you nod.

it’s hard to tell.

sparks fly within your loins, heating you from the inside out. yunho, at some point, has wound his fist into the tresses of your hair, nails scrapping along your scalp. it’s pleasurable, all over, soothing you into a state of utter relaxation, a being with no purpose other than to take whatever this mass of warmth and muscles and width offers you.

his hand makes a fist and gently tugs, forcing a whine out of you as you’re faced with the bright lights once more. traces of his own cum stain the very place your face had lay. it’s erotic to see, drying up your tongue with a need to lick it clean.

“no, no, focus, right here,” a single finger taps at your cheek, followed by the tilting of your chin that forces you to stare back at the hungry eyes of jeong yunho. “eyes on me. want a front row seat to watching your eyes roll back.”

god, he’s filthy, and delicate, and that just makes him all that more filthy.

swiping his digits through the remnants of his sticky cum, he makes sure you’re staring right back at him as those same fingers snake their way down between your grinding bodies and burrow themselves deep in your soaked heat. shallow pumps of his hand fuck his cum-coated fingers deeper, long and lithe enough he barely needs to move to have you feeling him all over, everywhere.

by the time he curls them, pressing against that spongy wall, you’re just about ready to cry.

“think she’s gonna cum,” oh god, no, why must he remind you of your audience? why does it no longer frighten you to have eyes watching you be defiled but, rather, have you clenching around him tighter, chasing that fever-like ecstasy the man means to deliver? “she’s gripping my fingers so tight- shit, almost makes me wanna bust my load just thinking how warm her pussy would feel round my cock.”

“don’t let her cum,” you vow, some day, to wring the neck of park seonghwa. “just cause she’s gone all cockdrunk doesn’t mean she’s earnt-”

“shut up, hwa,” the boy’s thumb pokes up and you can’t help the way you grind down into it, smothering your clit in whatever pressure you can get. “pretty baby’s more than earned it. stop being bitter that i’m the one who’s gonna give her it.”

give you it, he does.

three fingers deep, the cocktail of your wetness mixing with his cum-cated digits aiding the ebb and flow of his rhythm, jeong yunho has your toes curling, eyes rolling, thighs shaking. you blackout, for only a moment, lost in the wilderness of pleasure.

the aftershocks are barely kicking in when you’re suddenly ripped away from yunho’s hold. the sounds of your beating heart and heaving chest muffle the disgruntled exchange of words between the swim-team, inhibiting your ability to stay clued-in on the events that surround you. all you know is that when your body meets the bench once more, on all wobbly fours, jeong yunho no longer sits tall and proud.

a sharp sting hits your rear- a smack, that echoes in the empty space of the swimming hall. the only appropriate response is the shriek you let out, twisted in your own conflicting emotions of pain, and pleasure, and painful pleasure. a second smack meets the other cheek. this time, there’s no doubt a wanton whine escapes you.

“since the rest of them can’t take orders,” you’d already known it was seonghwa whose hands were suddenly all over you, pinning you in a position of submission. the sound of his grandiose voice sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine, top to tail. “i’ll have to do it myself.”

with no word of warning, he smooths his hands down the globes of your ass, teases the crease of skin where your inner thigh meets your dripping heat, and fucks two whole fingers into your sensitive core. knuckles deep, they sit still upon initial intrusion, basking in the warmth of you and coating themselves in the essence from an orgasm you’ve yet to even fully recover from and the cum yunho’d scooped off your own face.

then, at last, when your nails dig marks into the wood below, he curls them a come-hither motion.

with shame painted on your skin, you toss your head back and release an inhumane cry, eyes hazily gazing up at the horrendous white lights above. “oh god!”

“not quite. i do appreciate the flattery though,” there’s no need to glance over your shoulder to know that pompous, trust-fund baby is wearing the most earth-shattering smirk, some stupid strand of his perfectly groomed hair dangling over one of his eyes, like some 90s heartthrob boy-band member. you do it anyway.

park seonghwa is an unfairly attractive man, sporting a beauty so ethereal it almost makes you angry.

that anger seems to dampen the wetter he gets you.

his touch is slow, but by no means is it gentle. calculated and malevolent, he plays with your insides like they’re nothing but the strings to your puppet. a curl of his fingers and one of your hands shoots forward. the torturously slow pace that he pumps his digits in and out, and your jaw falls slack. his thumb bumps and grinds against your throbbing clit, and your elbows give out, sending you crashing face-first down onto the bench.

his free hand presses down on your lower back, bending you deeper, hiking your ass up higher in the air. and, at first, you think you’re imagining it, that trickle of warmth against your other entrance, believing it nothing but a trick of your melting brain.

you’re who-knows how many hours deep in a whirlwind of pleasure and penetrative stares, people have been driven to the brink of insanity over far less in the past.

but then seonghwa’s fingers leave your cunt, warm and wet trails following their journey over your skin. there’s no imaginative mind great enough in this universe to conjure up that initial shock to feeling how he prods and pokes at your puckered hole, lubricating it with the dirty mixture of both you and yunho’s cum and his very own spit.

the tip of his pointer finger ventures onward first, breaking through the surface of your tight muscles in a shallow intrusion.

the feeling has you frozen, frightened, intrigued. eyes widening, moans dying, pussy pulsating in an empty need.

“don’t go getting shy on us now, spitfire,” the collective language he uses brings back the weight of all the boys’ eyes on you. hesitantly, you angle your face off the bench, and regret it the instant you meet the brown comfort of his eyes. “fun’s just starting. ain’t that right, san?”

a tense energy takes over the large room, with san’s shoulders tensing, and yunho’s feet fidgeting, and wooyoung’s cheeks blushing. seonghwa seems impervious to the shift, whether voluntarily or not, and instead invites himself to further exploring the limits of your body.

he’s kind enough to spare a bit of care into the way his finger sinks deeper into your unexplored hole. another dribble of his hot saliva lands messily onto you, aiding the slip and slide of his hand. two, or three, or four strokes of his finger and you’re submitting to the intrusion, hips rutting higher and presenting yourself more to the man.

“come here,” the command calls over your body and, at first, you think its aimed at you. so you try scooting further back, only to be halted by seonghwa speaking once again. “yeah you, choi. come get under her.”

for the first time since this all began, you’re on the precipice of saying no.

they’d listen, all of them. wouldn’t push you, pressure you or force you to keep going, not if you truly voiced your negation. even park seonghwa, as big an arsehole as he may be, would have no qualms ending his fun and agreeing to never speak of this again.

and it’s not that you don’t want choi san under you. far from it, as you’ve already made pretty clear earlier, thighs his personal ear-warmers while his tongue delved deep for your honey-suckle glory. you’re hardly uncomfortable at the thought of him under you, chest rising repeatedly in frantic breaths and legs bent at the knee to give him just the right leverage to fuck up into your messy cunt-

it’s not till he’s three feet away from you, hands fidgeting by his side, eyes looking anywhere but you and your compromising position, and the world’s most obnoxiously boner-strained tent in his swimming gear that realisation washes over you. you’re hesitating because of him, because of his possible discomfort.

what if he wants to say no? what if he doesn’t want to get under you? what if his eyes will never look into your own again, too shocked and disgusted by all the things you’ve let be done to you? by his own team-mates/rivals, too?

hell, you’ve shocked yourself even, never in a million years had you pictured a day you’d be at the mercy of some rich prick, overdressed for every occasion and looking like a vogue-cover-model reject. but when he’s edging another finger into the already-tight squeeze of your ass, and pushing your buttons just enough to nudge you towards an edge that never seems to arrive, how could you ever dream of being anywhere else?

a hand touches your cheek.

soft. tender. it takes the extra time to soothe the pads of its fingers against your burning cheek.

“you feeling okay?” san’s quiet tone, meant only for you, is enough to move you to near-tears. you crave his hug. the position you find yourself in only allows you to reach out and grasp at where his knee bends as he crouches down to your level. it’s all the same, san knows. san understands. his own hand lands on top of yours, messily threading digits.

“she’s literally stuffed with another man’s cum and you’re worried about her? well aren’t you just the sweetest.” a cheap remark from seonghwa.

san purposefully ignores it, and everything about the man, instead choosing to keep his focus on what matters.

you.

“think you could make some room for me down there?” your nose wrinkles at his choice of words.

his giggle echoes.

“no, no, not... like that,” he guides you as he talks, grip moving to your shoulders and coaxing you up into a seating position. somewhere along the way, seonghwa’s hands leave you. he doesn’t stray too far, however, and your back soon collides against his chest. “here, pretty. want you to make space for me down here.”

within seconds, choi san’s back in his rightful place: splayed out beneath you, body fit snug between your parted legs and hair an unruly, sweated mess against his forehead.

no clothing sits between you both, blessing you with the mouthwatering drag of his cock through your folds. hard, and red, and leaking at the tip, a slight curve to the right, dribbling precum against his well-toned stomach. you’re biting your lip before you fully register your own thoughts, body a mind of its own as you grind down onto him.

control is limited and fleeting, that of which seonghwa reminds you without uttering so much as a word. instead, he clamps a harsh grip down on either side of your hips, rucks you up to where he needs you and guides you down onto san’s cock.

it’s thick, imposing and something that seonghwa blesses you no time to ease into things. instead, you’re slammed down, san buried to the hilt inside of you.

“hey there,” delicate fingers skim up the tense muscles in your thigh and find pleasure in delivering a teasing tickle to your sides. “come here often?”

the cheeky grin, the double entendre, the way san looks so goddamn proud of himself for saying it. you can’t help it, you wind up giggling uncontrollably.

wrong choice. bad idea. danger zone.

san contorts in pain, and lust, and something else you’ve never seen behind his eyes before, hissing through his teeth like some feral cat. his eyes match that of a feline too. “you trying to squeeze my dick off or something?”

you compose yourself upon the reminder of that san can feel you tensing around him, pull in a deep breath and find your voice again, at last. “or... something.”

maybe you’re a little out of breath. maybe you’re a little hoarse. it doesn’t seem to matter to the boy below, his only response being to cant his hips up and lick at the fire burning in your insides.

“you two are disgusting,” once again, park seonghwa wins gold in the nobody-asked-for-you-bum-ass-opinion olympics. let’s see if he’ll continue his winning streak and go for gold in the hypocrite-athon too!

the hands on your sides begin you guide you, with seonghwa squeezing his perfectly manicured nails into your plush skin and bouncing you down onto san. up, down, up and down, repeated strokes like the ones their hands deliver each time they breach the surface.

it’s easy, this pleasure. it’s a gift, hand-delivered by two god-like men that sandwich you between them- one a mass that fills you, the other a weight that controls you. liberating in every sense, you can’t help the way your head rolls back to find purchase on one of seonghwa’s shoulders, completely melting into the ways he winds you over san.

“shit, yes, you feel,” san’s no better than you, mouth agape and hands unsteady as they trace every inch of skin they can reach: the dimples of your back, the swell of your breasts, the hood of your clit. his hips are the only steady thing about him, not a falter in the way they grind up to kiss your dripping pussy with his cock. “so good. so warm, tight. love it.”

a hand curls round your front, travels up between your breast and over your sternum. it settled for a grip a round your throat, no pressure applied, it simply exists against your windpipe, a silent threat.

“look what you do to him, hmm,” a squeeze around your neck. seonghwa’s warm breath fans against your ear, taunting you. “look what you’re doing to them.”

through your glossed-over gaze, you trail your way past the sight of san and all his captivating beauty, settling instead on the equally erotic, not-at-all surprising image that stands just past where his head rests at the edge of the wooden bench.

a sweaty wooyoung, bent at the waist and whining up a storm, while a far more composed yunho pounds his hips into the boy’s arse.

your walls clench and san whimpers, a string of curses and pleads leaving him.

“think you’re finally ready for me?” the devil on your shoulder- at your back, more truly,- smirks into your skin, careless enough to not even feign it being anything but a rhetoric question. ready or not, park seonghwa is going to finally get his own fill of the thrill, his own satisfaction, beyond mere observation and controlling.

the spill of your own wetness slips down your thighs as san continues to fuck himself deep. it doesn’t travel far as seonghwa coats himself in you, wetting his fingers before they slip back inside your ass. a few generous, tempting pumps into your ring of muscles, fingers spreading a little further apart each time, till he decides that’s enough, he’s ready, you’re ready.

the unbuckling of a belt.

an unzipping of trousers.

trousers bunched down muscled thighs.

the first cut may be the deepest, but you highly doubt it’s as deep as seonghwa feels feeding his cock into your arse, stretching you apart to make way for him. a part of you feels like it can’t breathe, impaled on both these men who sit so deep inside you, you fear you’ll feel the ghost of their touch for weeks to come.

but what does it matter, really, when seonghwa pulls you back against him and whispers filth against your ear? 

this is all you’re good for. cock-drunk whore. gonna let us cum inside?

and san’s coaxing you down to trail his mouth over your chest, the tongue flicking over your nipple a terrible juxtapose to his crooning words?

taking it so well, baby. so tight, and perfect, and god. ‘s that what baby needs, huh, for me to touch her little clit?

the two men find a rhythm, a synchronised routine to how they pull and push you around. their thrusts ebb and flow, no moment existing where you sit empty. they treat your body like they treat the pool, swimming through your waves of pleasure and effortlessly advancing to the finishing line, the winning stroke. then, san’s hand meets your cheek and your thoughts are dragged underwater, muffling the sounds of everyone else- the shlickt sound that echoes with each inch of cock fucked into you, the high-pitched whimpers of a fucked out wooyoung, the slapping of skin against skin- as he pulls you in for a kiss.

it’s a hungry one, all teeth and tongue and swollen lips. you pull away more breathless than before and fighting back a big dopey grin, toes curling as the swell of one of their cocks hits a nice spot inside you, body too on fire to know just exactly where the new wave of heat is coming from.

“h-how d’you do it, hm?” it’s almost a whisper, something meant only for your ears, yet you hear him loud and clear, voice stuttering off in a mess of whines and moans. “still got that pretty-girl smile, even while getting fucked silly.”

it almost makes you shy, till you remember what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with. you settle for a quick, short answer. mostly because you fear you’re losing the ability to think in full-sentences, much less speak one out loud. “can multitask.”

like your own words are the key to pandora’s box, your eyes widen, and your mouth dries, and your heart reels as a new desire burrows itself somewhere between the parts of you owned by san and the parts owned by seonghwa. the desire makes room for more, for someone more, and, without much chance for second-thoughts or hesitation, you find what little stability you can manage with one hand pressing down onto san’s toned chest and reach forward with your free hand.

fingers, light as a feather, curl around wooyoung’s solid shaft. the man’s hips stutter at the unexpected contact, eyes flying open to glance down in time to watch you reach out your tongue, licking up the droplets of precum that threaten to spill from his mushroomed tip.

“please, god, please!” he’s beyond the point of sense, poor baby, struggling to keep up with yunho’s hips’ repeated slamming into his tight ass. so, you can’t really blame him or shame him for the way he hastily rips his hand through your hair, tugging your mouth as far down his cock as the angle allows.

a few hairs rip from your skull in his grip. you reward him with a pleasant hum, moans muffled with the mouth-full he’s providing you. 

“shit- look at that,” seonghwa pipes up from behind you, the motion of his hips never faulting or failing as he continues to take part in the filthiest three-way tango known to man, hands bouncing you down to meet each raise of san’s hips, plundering the other man’s cock deep, deep, deep, till he’s kissing your cervix and you’re seeing stars before your eyes. “should cup youngie’s- fucking christ- his balls, san, cup ‘em.”

you’re vaguely aware of his compliance, hand lifting off whatever part of you it was touching- your nipple, your hip, your jaw, it’s hard to tell when you feel like san’s everywhere, all over you, part of you- to graze the set of well-groomed spheres that threaten to slap your chin each time wooyoung thrusts forward.

barely two seconds, hardly any pressure against them, and the youngest of the four is nearly in tears, wailing and begging over broken whines that it’s too much, can’t take it, don’t stop.

there’s a ringing in your ear. because everything is becoming too much: wooyoung in your mouth, san rutting up into you and seonghwa’s hands clawing and pulling your body back into each of his overpowered thrusts. the boy in front of you is the first to fall apart, twitching in your mouth and, without a warning, choking you on the cum he shoots down your throat. a hand pulls you back, just enough to paint your face in the final drops released from wooyoung.

one of the other men is next, a string of curses and grunts filling the air. there’s a new stickiness between your legs, gooey white staining your skin. it’s all building up, and up, and up, until you topple over and are sent reeling into wave after wave of blinding pressure, toes cramping up and muscles spasming as you shoot off into another astral field, creaming around san and chocking seonghwa’s cock.

you don’t register the release of your hips nor the crash-down of your body. one moment, you’re pressed back against seonghwa, mouth dropped open in a silent scream for merciless pleasure, and the next you’re cradled in san’s warm embrace, a crooning tone to the way he hushes and calms you, unheard i got yous, and did so good for us, babys, and just let me hold yous falling on deaf ears.

for a moment in your own history, time ceases to exist.

there’s no ticking of the large clock on the wall, reminding you of how long ago your shift had ended. there’s no thoughts of your plant friend drying out in the staleness of your room, desperately awaiting you to revive it with some h2o. there’s no consequences awaiting your actions, no shame to be feared and leaving you unable to look any of the four swimmers in the eye ever again.

instead of being crashed against choi san’s body, a mixture of his, yours, and several other people’s bodily fluids serving as the adhesive that keeps you stuck together in your mess, you’re floating in space, not quite alive but not quite dead, just there. 

nerves tingling, body aching, mind switched off.

four, or five, or ten, maybe even fifteen minutes pass by the time you regain focus on your surroundings.

your name, whispered. it’s his voice that pulls you back, sweet and soft and oh so like the san you’re used to, the one that sends teasing winks your way when your eyes happen to meet his in class, and the one who has the prettiest notes you’ve ever seen, a colour-scheme for his every highlight and the cutest of doodles to go along with the topic on the paper.

the one who’s hand is currently brushing through your hair, fingers careful as they catch on the tangles near the split ends.

“hmm,” you swear you want to say his name, say more than that, but there’s an ache in your jaw that hinders you from even attempting, your voice-box likely having taken a beaten in the throws of your pleasured moans.

“you okay there?” he giggles over the end of the sentence, and you feel your slowing heartbeat stutter at the sound.

he feels you nod into the crook of his neck and lets his free hand find perch against your hip, moments before giving it a light squeeze. 

he’s warm, and pleasant, and soft.

and moving you both into an up-right position, hands splaying flat against your back and keeping you secure against him, your legs wrapping around his slender waist. you drift off again, between time and space, and come to at the first drop of water that lands on your back.

one drop, two drops, and then a downpour of heat crashing onto both of you.

you can tell from the colour of the pinkish tiles along the communal shower floor that you’re in the women’s changing room, and mentally note to thank him, even if he’s not aware, for bringing you somewhere you won’t have to shamefully stumble out of in the nude, your change of clothes safely tucked away within one of the lockers.

“i’m gonna put you down now, okay?” he speaks so gently that it overwhelms you, answering him only with an affirmative nod of your head.

neither of you speak while he lathers shampoo into your hair, nor when he’s dragging his soap covered hands over the cum that stains your skin, wiping it away and leaving nothing but suds where the liquid once was. he doesn’t speak while covering your eyes with his hands, blocking the sting of the shampoo. you don’t speak when you inch closer, head falling forward to rest against his chest.

when he does eventually speak again, both of your fingertips are wrinkled and bodies are clean, the water of the shower serving as nothing but a way to keep warm.

“you’re, uh, not” the echo of his voice in the empty lockers feels so much more intimate than how his cries sounded by the pool. “doing anything on wednesday, right?”

too lazy to move, you angle your face to stare up at him from his chest and take a moment to just stare, look at the way his hair is sticking to his forehead, at the way his eyes are back to being wide, at the way the marks you’d littered along his neck are becoming more prominent.

“how’d you know?” your question confirms his own, and a tenseness you’d not noticed melts off of his shoulders.

“wednesday is race day. you never work race days.”

it’s such an odd detail to have noticed, and it’s making you question everything you thought you knew about your relationship with san. do acquaintances remember each other’s schedules? do acquaintances bring each other soothing teas when they notice the other developing flu symptoms? do acquaintances waste time pulling faces at each other in lectures they should probably be paying attention to.

“i’m not taking part in the race this time, by choice. my grades are good enough, don’t need to worry about winning some championship to keep my education.” san is speaking unpromptly at this point, rambling in a way you’ve only seen him do when he’s nervous, or excited, or both. “it’s okay if you don’t want to, or you have better things to do or places to be! but, i was just thinking, maybe you’d wanna spend some time with me? there’s this medieval market down on main-street, it’s meant to be really cool, and i just think it would be even cooler to go with you? but, again, you don’t have to. forget it, actually, i’m being stupid and assuming you’re not doing something with your friends or your-”

the kiss you interrupt him with is far more innocent than the one you shared earlier, no hands rushing to touch and tongues desperate to taste, just two sets of lips moving as one.

you pull back and he chases after you, lips landing another peck before you’re grasping his cheek in your hold and forcing him back.

“i think you could have asked me to come help clean your apartment for you and i’d still say yes, just to spend my day with you,” you say, and he smiles as if on instinct, unable to stop it even if he tried.

“really?”

“really.”

“good, cause i already bought us two tickets and i really didn’t wanna have to go alone.” there’s drops of water dancing on his eyelashes, and laziness in his every movement, and you’re both still very much naked, but none of that seems to matter when he gives you another peck, like he’s awakened an addiction and your lips are now his favourite vice. “but, now that you mention it, my apartment could do with some cleaning. and i bet you’d look amazing in a maid outfit.”

a slap echoes in the showers.

“hey! don’t worry, i’ll be wearing a matching one!”

[sunnebeam]

one more kiss.

DRABBLE.

pairing: kim seokjin x reader

warnings: smut (minors do not interact), unprotected sex (this is fiction, but please be more responsible irl), angst, cursed!reader, mentions of past deaths in which reader feels responsible for, open-ended (i'll leave it up to ur imaginations what happened next heh)

masterlist + disclaimers.

note: ok so this is just me turning most of my fic ideas into short drabbles just so i can check then off my wip list ^^ so without further ado, here's a drabble for our lovely jin! let me know what u think

Quiet nights often bring loud thoughts.

Take tonight, for instance. It's rather quiet and peaceful, fluffy clouds filtering the moonlight, no other sounds except for the beat of your heart and his. It's a tranquil night, and for an overthinker like Seokjin, it's a night of loud what-ifs.

What if he kisses you?

He'd love to. You've been together for a while now, yet he never once tasted your lips.

What if you kiss him?

You'd love to, too. But you love him more, and you won't ever let his lips find a home in yours.

You can't.

"Hey," he calls out to you as you're both snuggling blissfully in bed, your clothes and his in rumpled heaps on the floor, the light sheen of sweat covering your bodies a testament to the lewd acts you both just engaged in a few moments prior.

"Hmm," you hum in acknowledgment, your fingers tracing patterns on his skin near where your head lays on his bare chest.

"Do you love me?"

You're tracing your initials now.

"Do you love me?"

"I asked first."

You're tracing his name.

"I do," you finally whisper, and feeling vulnerable, you add, "more than I should."

He halts your fingers' movements and takes your hand in his.

"I do, too," he whispers, bringing your hand to his lips, mindful of your slight hesitation when you feel his plump lips on your skin. "Will you do something for me?"

"Anything."

And that's all the permission he needs.

Flipping you over, he lays you on your back and hovers above you — a position all too familiar in lovers' bedrooms, but not in yours.

"Wait," you say, frightened at the change, "Jin, we can't—"

You've never done this before. You've only ever fucked in positions where he's pounding into you from behind. You've never had sex facing each other before. And for good reason.

He kisses your nose, and you freeze in fright at the action, at the feeling of his lips just a few centimeters from your own.

"Trust me?" he pleads, looking straight into your eyes.

It's not that you don't trust him. It's just that you know he won't be able to resist.

After all, nobody was ever able to resist.

That's just how the curse worked – with your lips luring in their prey, and their victims unable to resist.

"I can't lose you," you tell him, eyes tearing up.

And like a moth to a flame, the moment their lips touch yours...

"You won't."

...they die.

It's why you never let Jin kiss you. It's why you never have sex in missionary. You can't take any chances. You can't.

Too many people have died in the past because of you, because you were careless, because you were reckless. Too many people have died because of your kiss, and you'd be damned if you let Jin be another one of them.

"I thought you understood." A tear slips down your cheek. "I want to, I swear. But it's too dangerous, Jin."

He catches the tear and wipes it away.

"I promise I'll be careful."

Now, Jin has always been honest with you. But tonight – with you in his arms like this, with your resolve starting to waver, and with your tiny nod finally giving him silent permission – he prioritizes your peace of mind over his and decides to lie to you.

He's lying to you as he cradles you in his arms and places kisses on your neck. He's lying to you as he moves his fingers to your wet heat and preps you for him. He's lying to you as he then pumps his cock and slowly slips inside you.

"F-Fuck," you moan at the stretch, hands clutching his shoulders in a death grip. The sensation the unfamiliar position brings is too much for you, and you find yourself nearing your climax in a way you never have before.

"You're so wet," he groans, thrusting into you in a slow, sensual pace, and feeling your pussy clench uncontrollably.

"I'm so close, Jin," you whimper, not even the least bit embarrassed that you'll finish so early.

"Let go, love. It's okay."

He wants you to let go. He needs you to let go of all your fears, your burdens, your inhibitions. Everything.

He wants you to give them all to him. He needs you to let him carry them, shoulder them, bury them. For you.

Because he's your soulmate. Your one true love.

"I'm cumming!" you cry out, reaching your high.

You're coming undone around his cock, your pussy milking him and coaxing him into his own orgasm. He follows just seconds after, spilling inside you and staying there until his dick eventually softens.

He pulls out slowly and looks at you.

Your eyes are closed and you have a small, content smile on your face at this new level of intimacy you just experienced with your lover. And it's that same, content smile that prompts him to do what he does next.

He kisses you.

He kisses you because he always wondered what it would be like to kiss you, always wondered what your lips would taste like on his tongue, always wondered what your lips would feel like pressed against his own.

He kisses you because he always wanted to kiss you, always wanted to feel close to you, always wanted to experience this kind of intimacy with you.

He kisses you because he always thought about what your life would be like if you weren't crippled by your curse.

What if there's a cure? What if there's something he could do? What if, somewhere, somehow, there's a way?

And so tonight, there would be no more what-ifs.

Because he read about curses like yours and there's a theory about how only one thing can fix it.

A true love's kiss.

COPYRIGHT 2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[hearts4maddison]

You read? Part 2

- Mason mount x reader

summary: You and your girls decided to have a clubbing day out. Funny enough you bump into a familiar face you’ve see before.

Warnings: Swearing,drinking and fluff.

paring: single dad-mason “Mason mount” x female!Reader

You woke up feeling good knowing tonight you would get to go out with your friends ever since holiday and ever since your interaction with mason. All the dates you had been on didn’t go so well and all your friend’s new that. That’s also the whole reason you ended up going clubbing in the first place.

Once again, you were sat there figuring out a perfect dress. You had finally made up your mind on dress and it was final. You couldn’t waste anymore time all your friends were waiting on you already.

once you met up with all of your friend’s you headed inside the club. The same old music blasting, having to walk through a crowd of dancing people just to reach the bar.

Most of your friends were already on their fourth or Fifth drink already. You had said to your self you’d take it easy didn’t want to wake up with the worst hang over of your entire life but you knew one way or another you’d end up having one drink and end up having many more.

____________

The clock had now read 7:30 Most of your friends were already wasted.you were now on your Fifth drink by now probably had more than five.One of your friends Ashley wasnt as drunk was the rest which was good.

Most of your freinds were dancing. You decided to go and freshen up in the bathroom.

You decided to tell Ashley in case she wondered where you had went “hey im going to the bathroom really quick.“ you said with a slight smile

“want me to go with you?“ She smiled back “nah you go and enjoy I'll be back in like a minute or so.“ you responded with a smile and walked to the bathroom.

____________

when you entered the bathroom the music faded. You fixed up your hair and were ready to head back out. You told yourself you'd have one more drink and then ask Ashley to drive you back home with the other girls.

As you walked back your full attention on your phone your phone you accidentally nudged someone knocking whoever's phone out of their hand.

“oh shit! I'm so sorry I wasn't looking!“ you said a lace of worried in your tone. “it's okay you didn't break my phone at least“ whoever responded had a voice you has definitely heard before.

_________

Looking up at whoever you bumped into gave you a shock “Mason!?’’ you said with a surprised tone as you got up and handed his phone back.

“Lexie? Well this took a turn“ he said scratching the back of his head you hadn't talked to mason ever since at the airport and when he spoiled that good book it still struck you that he read?.

“I didn't expect seeing you here...how are you?’’ you said trying to make some kind of small talk to ease up this awkward cconversation“oh yeah i’ve been good how are you?“ he said a small smile on his face.

“I'm good..How's Maisey?“ you said with a smile on your lips “oh she's good! did you come here alone?“ he said sounding a bit curious “oh no came here with some friends what about you didn't take you for a clubbing type“ you said with a smile on your face.

“I could say the same thing pretty lady and again I'm sorry for spoiling that book when we were at the airport“ he said with a slight chuckle “Dont worry apology accepted I guess“ you said with a smile.

“good...Anyways u know you made the best impression on masiey cuz she keeps wondering where the pretty lady from the airport went” he said with a chuckle.

“guess i just make a good impression on everyone!” You say with a laugh causing mason to let out a laugh as-well.

_________

throughout,most of the night you and mason had talked at the bar which then you guys talked and talked and talked until it was time to go home you could see Ashley gesturing to get up and go home now.

“hey it was nice bumping into you mason! but i should get going now.” You said with a smile planted on your face “nice bumping into you too i’ll definitely be telling masiey i bumped into the pretty lady again” He said with a slight laugh causing you to smile.

“Good and don’t you dare spoil another book for ever again!” you said with a fake angry tone causing mason to put his hands up in defeat and laugh “don’t worry they end up together” he said with that same cheeky smile.

“…Are you serious!! How dare you spoil it for me!” you said angry but also trying to bite the smile back “I’m sorry it funny seeing you all mad and that pout you make”he said laughing.

“I’m leaving now! Thanks alot mount!”you said fake angry at him mason just waved and headed back to his group of friends.

________

you got back in your friend Ashley car your other friend’s passed out sleeping in the back “girl what took you so long?” she said sounding curious “nothing i just bumped into someone i knew” you said resting your head on the car window.

“Omg! that cute guy who you were talking to he looked interested in you!” she said with a squeal “Oh shut it! you said with a smile “okay okay just saying” she said with a cheesy smile on her face.

your phone buzzed and as you looked at it was mason number the text message reading.

“Come to masiey birthday party? and i’ll make up for spoiling the book pretty lady.’’

__________________________________________

Ooo…A Invite wonder what’s gonna happen next…

sorry this took like months to get out i was so busy and couldn’t be asked but i’m back now! just a disclaimer this has not been proof read.

hope you enjoyed it.

@am0urjjkx

@judesluv

@almondsblog

[sunnydayroleplay]

Hiya Jack! How are u! I missed you so much! Where have you gone?

Jack speaking, and here are your reminders sunspot!~

- If you're 18- DNI, this is a NSFW post and so is the game it is based off of. This is an 18+ community.

- Those under 18 interacting not only jeopardizes your own safety and well being , it jeopardizes mine, and the creators of the games.

- (As well as moral/ethics.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

! Sunshine Insider Information !

This post includes:

-Jack speaking/ Jack POV.

-Fourth wall breaking potentially??

-Wholesome :D

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey sunshine! I've been as dandy as a sunflower in the summer! I missed you all so very much.

I've been all sorts of places, but one of them I haven't been to in awhile is well... here! Although I haven't been present for a long while, thank you all! Reading all your sweet messages and comments really remind me lots as to why I do what I do!

I also particularly enjoy reading all your requests and seeing what you come up with! However there are some...hm.. what's the word... concerning requests, I'd like to also remind you some basic ground rules. Ain't nothin' wrong with being a rule follower! It's good to be a leader, but sometimes it's better to be a follower.

Now, number on- I... hold on-

(insert comical searching sounds for stuff in tiny ass bag)

Language!

(my bad)

(insert comical searching sounds for stuff in tiny a██ bag)

Better- Oh! Here we go!

Ahem, here's a few thing's and rules I wrote down! Take notes my sunrises and sunsets.

Sunny Day Roleplay Rules and Reminders!

1. Please read the pinned comment and look at my boundaries there.

I'm tired of the amount of people who continue to disrespect my wishes and are actually trying to threaten me. I know I'm not the best writer/blogger, or the most popular, but the amount of people who ask me beyond inappropriate questions or make continuous requests to the point I have to block and report is unreal. I don't mean to be rude, but please. This is the main reason I had to take a longer break than last in the first place. I can't get things out as soon as you send them. And I cannot reply back to messages as soon as you dm them. I have a personal life too, my life does not revolve around this account.

2. CHILDREN DNI

I cannot stress this enough, the amount of literal ELEMENTARY school children I see following me or dmming my other SDJ accounts is unreal. At this point I don't even care if you're 13-14 (I do, but listen and don't twist my words) but if you're 9-12 on the internet talking with absolute strangers about NSFW shit? You need to put the iPad down and please go to bed. It's painfully obvious and it makes me and albeit a shit ton of people uncomfortable. Please, just stop.

3. To that one group of people. You know who you are.

Stop spamming me photos of James Corden on my twitter while I'm at work or sleeping. Thank you-

Uhm...Sunny?

What, Jack?

That amount of profanity is-

Have you seen what you partake in this account content wise?

But-

Exactly.

Anywho, that's going to be all for today! Have a happy, healthy sunny day, and be sure to eat well and drink water. And remember sunspot, I'll always be here for you.

[boba-beom]

ᥫ᭡⋆｡˚⊹  I Like U (sorry, I never meant to) | part 1 — 'don't drop her!'

pairing: beomgyu x gn!reader

genre: fluff, romance | non-idol au, strangers to friends to ???

synopsis: after meeting one of your best friend’s friends, you initially found him attractive and thought he’d be a careless crush that would soon dissipate into nothing. that is, until a series of events proved you wrong and perhaps those feelings lingered longer than they should have. would something become of it?

warning(s): slice of life, slow burn(ish), mentions of food, physical affection, bickering, more mentions of star signs, I will try my best to make it as gender neutral as possible as some parts are based off from my perspective. if there's anything I've missed, let me know!

wc: 3.2k

a/n: this celebration I am referring to is very big in the filipino culture. it's called a philippine 'debut' (deh-boo). it's to celebrate one who is coming of age, entering adulthood as a young woman.

prev || masterlist || next

5 months have passed since your first interaction with Beomgyu. however, it was not the last time you had interacted. after you accepted his follow request and followed him back on instagram, you've been going back and forth liking each other's stories, recommending songs and sharing playlists with each other after you found out he also listens to the same niche artist as you. you may have overreacted, but none of your friends knew the artist until you saw his story with your favourite song posted to it.

to think that this happened over the course of the summer vacation, you were almost unfazed that you would be meeting him again for Tara's birthday. almost. you were extremely excited to visit the island again, after discussing Tara's 18th birthday celebrations, along with receiving her invitations through the post. you told yourself that all thoughts unrelated to Tara's birthday were to be pushed to the back of your head, making sure that this was going to be unforgettable and you wanted to prioritise that.

Tara has always been one to be interested in star-gazing, knowing things about star signs; whether she can guess people's star signs based off of their personality traits, or even upon first or second meeting.

you recall the facetime call you had with your best friend just a couple of days before your trip to the island. she had asked a huge favour from you — which was to help with the decorations. after knowing Tara for more than half of your life you know that they will go above and beyond when it comes to celebrations. be it weddings, birthdays, anniversaries, seasonal holidays; her and her family will do the most and it's their branding at this point.

now that you're back on the island again, you've missed everything about it. the greenery of the fields, trees arching over roads creating beautiful tunnels by nature, the fact that your best friend lives by the beach and how beautiful it would be to watch the sunrise and set with the sound of the waves rolling over the shell beach.

"hey, we've got guests coming over just after lunch. we can decorate later this evening, is that okay with you?" Tara wraps her arms around your shoulders, interrupting your gaze on your phone from the pictures of the sunrise you took earlier that morning.

"yeah that's no problem, need me to help you with anything?" you tilt your head to nudge her temple, responding to her affectionate gesture.

"actually, could you just finish the rest of those centre pieces, please?" you hum in response, "oh, and I heard Beomgyu's going to be on his way soon." she shrugs, walking out of the living room to call her other friends to discuss the time for cotillion practice.

Beomgyu. it's been a while since you've seen the name, let alone hear it. you wonder if it'll be a little awkward seeming as the last time you spoke was mid summer. there's not a lot you know about this guy, really, other than the fact that his texts are completely opposite to how he is in person; pretty dry.

pushing those thoughts aside, you pick up the glue gun and start gluing a small assortment of three to four blue and yellow roses in the small glass, cylindrical centre pieces. each centre piece had table numbers handwritten in pretty cursive handwriting, remembering that it must have been by one of Tara's friends.

each cylinder had mini battery-operated fairy lights, pulling the vision together. though there were several elements left for the remaining decorations. the completed ones were starting to look really pretty altogether.

you gather the completed centre pieces and place them in a brown cardboard box, ready for the next batch until you hear the familiar tone of Tara's voice greeting someone by the front door.

"hey Beomgyu, you're super early." you hear her laugh, "y/n's inside, you remember them, right?"

"of course." he says, walking in and making brief eye contact with you sitting on the carpeted floor.

your eyes widen slightly, brows raised and unexpected to meet him again. his hair has started to grow a little longer compared to the last time you saw him. the front pieces of his hair just about grazing his brows, and the back just touching the bottom of his nape.

"y/n?" he calls out, snapping you out of whatever it was that you were stuck in momentarily, "I asked if you need any help?" now he's sitting in the armchair by the window.

"oh. no I'm good, almost done anyway. Thank you though." you politely smile up at him, watching him take his phone out of his pocket and turning it on.

"suit it yourself." he shrugs nonchalantly, his eyes leaving yours and onto his phone's screen. you scoff a little, ignoring his response.

it was silent in the living room for almost an hour, just the occasional mini conversations between you and Tara, or Tara and Beomgyu talking about certain points of the cotillion. they were partners after all.

once you've finished with the remaining smaller decorations, you stand up to stretch before walking over to start the final decoration — Tara's name decor — which was to be placed by the display near the front inside the venue. it was her first name along with her middle name, and although they weren't long, you were aware that the process would be. having to sketch out her name in cursive, then to paint it in gold and to glue gold glitter all over it.

Beomgyu, on the other hand, started the large '18' cardboard cutout with collage photos of Tara from the photoshoot that she took a couple of months back. the pictures were beautiful, especially the few from the beach. she was standing where the mini waves were just touching her feet while she was wearing a long, black chiffon-layered dress with a spaghetti-strap. the sunset in the background created a pretty silhouette with the layers of the chiffon dress blown in the wind, and you were then starting to realise that your best friend is about to be a young woman. the thought of that was almost enough to make you emotional. almost. there's still two more days until the big day.

you start on the sketching, outlining the letters on the A1 styrofoam board, until you hear Beomgyu playing some songs from what you thought was the playlist he recommended to you. you pause for a second or two, trying to figure out which song it was and it was one of the first songs that you recommended to him months ago. smiling to yourself, you assume he compiled songs from both playlists and created a new one after listening further in the playlist.

"Beomgyu, y/n, I need you here." Tara calls after you both, her brows are scrunched up and eyes narrowed at the screen of her laptop as she watches a cotillion choreography that she's inspired from.

the sandy, blonde-haired male looks over at you, his head tilting towards Tara, essentially letting you get up and go to her first. he follows after, trailing a little behind you as you take the seat beside Tara while Beomgyu stays standing behind the both of you, just about leaning over your head.

"okay so," she starts, "I'm thinking of adding an extra move, but it's just at the very end." you watch the video as she presses play and observe the way the debutant's partner gave her a few twirls before preparing to lift her by the hip, then doing half a turn while the debutant was lifted.

you notice the way Tara pouts as she pauses the video and looks over to you and Beomgyu. your brows almost knit together, thinking that it would add a nice touch to the end of the cotillion, but realistically this was all in Beomgyu's hands. literally.

"personally, I think it would look really nice. and I know for a fact that your dress is going to look beautiful during that turn." you replay the video as the three of you rewatch it and notice the way the debutant's dress flows slightly in the air, almost in slow motion. it also reminds you of that one picture from the photoshoot and you were so sure that they'd regret it if they don't try it out.

"I don't know. the debut is in two days and tomorrow we're literally going to be spending the day to decorate the venue, and then—"

"Beomgyu, calm down, you haven't even tried it yet." you turn around and look up at him rolling his eyes at you. "try it out before the rest arrives for practice."

"y/n, are you being for real right now?" his lips twist, he's not convinced just yet, you think.

"come onnnn, Beomgyu try it out~" you sing song, "for Tara." you put your arm over your best friend's shoulders, bringing her in closer while she pouts at him.

it's always hard for Beomgyu to turn Tara down for anything. you'd think their relationship is pretty tight, but as they grew up together and being only two years apart they have that sibling energy about them. Tara is Beomgyu's weak spot, and this is the first time you've witnessed it.

"okay, fine." he sighs, defeated, but you see him smile over to Tara while ruffling the top of her head. you had no clue that you had been staring at the interaction between them for a second too long until Beomgyu calls out your name again. "you need to make sure I do it properly, I'm doing this for Tara." his voice was a little stern towards you, but it didn't bother you too much. he sounded quite defensive over the fact that he isn't doing this because you convinced him to, but you knew that that was exactly the reason why.

Tara makes her way out the back door into the garden, it was big enough to fit six pairings for the cotillion. to your surprise, she's only just told you that they have been practicing for three weeks and they only managed to remember everything the week that had just passed.

you sit on the stool by the door, facing the garden as you wait for the two to get into position for the ending of the cotillion. the pair face each other for a couple of seconds before Beomgyu twirls Tara twice, preparing for the lift. he lifts her hip onto the side of his leg, attempting to pivot in place for the turn with the other leg, but they stumble a little and Beomgyu lets go of Tara. you stand up as quick as you can to catch Tara from tripping forward and falling over.

"don't drop her!" you shout at Beomgyu. he looks at you with bland eyes, deadpan towards you.

"well, this was your idea, right?" he huffs. "I'd like to see you try."

"am I her partner?" you retort, your hands still holding onto Tara's forearm while she stands properly.

"guys, it's fine. Beomgyu, let's try again." Tara looks directly into your eyes and then Beomgyu after, her way of getting the both of you to stop arguing.

after a few attempts of the ending routine, it eventually got better to the point Tara wanted to try it out along with the music to make sure they get the timing right. you also suggest to take a video so they can review it after and they both agree. your index finger hovers over the space bar, patiently waiting for Tara to indicate when to press play.

you watch them do the routine once more until the crucial part came about, "okay, and now!" you shout as soon as the music reaches the part where the lift starts.

you watch beomgyu lift Tara steadily with a clean landing — no stumbling over or minor trips in sight. the music fades as it ends and you end the video before applauding them while you make your way toward them.

"see, I knew you could do it." you nudge Beomgyu, passing him the phone and notice the corners of his lips twitch upwards as he watches the successful move.

Tara's pleased to say the least, looking over at the phone at the same time and giving you the biggest smile.

"I know I'm terrible at thinking of things and adding things last minute, but I think that was one of my best ideas." she crosses her arms, proud of the decision she made regardless of the trouble it caused, especially between you and Beomgyu.

"yeah, you're lucky your partner was eventually convinced to do it." you tease.

"okay, okay. I get it. at least we've got that sorted out now." Beomgyu sighs, not amused with you repeating how you were right.

after heading back inside the house, you check the time and it's still early for the rest of Tara's friends to arrive for the practice. thinking of getting food before they arrive was the best idea, but Tara was called to have a dress rehearsal in case of any more altering. so it was down to you and Beomgyu to go and get food.

༺ ༻

you were grateful that the weather was good for a nice walk; the air was mildly warm with the smallest bit of breeze blown through your hair every now and then.

following Beomgyu in silence wasn't as bad as you thought. he walks in front of you, and you notice the wire of his white earphones dangling out of his pocket while he had the other in his ear.

"what song are you listening to?" you spoke up a little quieter than you expected. luckily you were just around the corner to the pizza shop, so you both stop once you cross the narrow, one way road.

"over eighty-five." he glances at you, holding eye contact for what felt like a minute to you and turns around to walk into the pizza shop.

he left you dumbfounded, remembering that that was the song that started the whole exchanging songs ordeal. you mindlessly blink at the shop front a couple of times before following suit, waiting behind him as he orders four boxes of pizzas for the group later on.

his voice is gentle when he talks to the owner of the shop. there's a lot of people in this part of the island, and everyone knows each other, if not, know of each other.

the way they exchange in conversation seems like he comes here often, the middle-aged man laughs at a bit and you see how endearing it was to see the interaction.

nevertheless, you had to set aside that it could potentially be the fact that the leo in Beomgyu is loving the attention, or it could even just be the big heart in him. either way, quietly observing them kept you entertained until he walked toward you, waiting beside you.

"Beomgyu?" your voice a little louder this time compared to earlier. he turns his head towards you, raising his brow with a hum. he isn't as firm as he was earlier, and he could physically see your shoulders relax in the smallest way possible. "can we go see that coffee shop that we walked past on the way here?"

to his surprise, that was not what he was expecting. he can sense that you've been tip-toeing around him since he arrived at Tara's house, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like you.

"yeah, we can do. we'll take the shortcut there, it'll be quicker on the way back too." he flashes you the same gentle smile he gave you the first time you met, and you notice a small dimple that disappeared not even in a fraction of a second. kinda cute.

༺ ༻

as soon as the pizzas were ready, the shop owner bids the both of you goodbye with a polite smile. you and Beomgyu split the pizza boxes to carry them back while you take up a different route, again, leaving it up to the island boy.

"how long are you staying this time anyway?" he asks you, half turning his head to face you but also making sure he watches where he's walking.

"oh, we're leaving the day after Tara's birthday. so not long, really." you reply with a shrug that he wasn't able to see anyway. you had hoped to stay longer than last time, but it was just about the same amount of days.

"I see." you almost miss his response with his quiet voice, along with a car that had driven past the both of you. but you wonder why he asked, though you knew he was probably curious like the others.

"is Soobin coming for the cotillion practice?" you remembered Soobin abruptly, he was more approachable compared to Beomgyu from the first time you met, and you remember everything clearly.

"yeah." there he is with the short responses again. you almost thought you had somewhat managed to get through to him, but it's going to be tricky with someone like him. you can't read him just yet and you're curious whether it's the same for everyone or it's just a 'you thing'.

after walking for a few more silent minutes, you see the cute, rustic coffee shop that caught your eye from earlier. this time, you were able to scan through the menu that's hung up outside on a brown clip board, reading out the set menu and the coffee of the day.

you balance the piled pizza boxes on your hip as you take your phone out to take a quick photo. Beomgyu doesn't hesitate to take the boxes from your hold and pile it on top of his.

your brows raise from the action, looking up at him with a smile followed after. "oh, thanks."

"just so the pizza won't fall. we have people to feed." his response was blunt but you still thanked him for the gesture. he faces to the side while he waits for you to finish taking your pictures, but you couldn't ignore the way the sun shines over him and some shadows from the lamppost lay over him.

you love taking photos in general. some say you're talented and you should be a photographer, but you just find it as a hobby and you don't want to take that fun aspect away.

finding a photogenic subject with a beautiful background was not easy to find, until you turn around to see exactly that. you had no second thoughts to take a picture or two of Beomgyu's side profile — to which you were extremely fascinated by — only capturing from his shoulders and up.

"let's go? I think they'll be there soon." Beomgyu speaks up, eyes meeting the sight of you holding your phone up and facing him, causing you to swiftly tuck your phone back into your pocket and reach out for the two boxes that Beomgyu took from you.

he turns quickly, so you miss and briefly grab nothing but the air where you were initially reaching out for.

"it's okay. I got it." is all he says before he continues walking in the direction of a different shortcut. a smile is twitching upon his lips as he senses you trailing behind him in confusion. if there's something you didn't know about him, it's that he's extremely observant, and his peripheral vision never fails him.

taglist: @bb-eilish @iggynor4 @ericyjun @bluejin0812 @luvsoobs @yeonyeonyeonjun @junniieesbby @kyrkitten @hyuntaena @day6andetcetera @amethysts-1620 @gorechoi-backup @dainsleif-when-playable @choiwrld @yjusei @feyregels @ahnneyong @potaeto-writes-on-wp @wccycc @lizdevorak @fairybin @laylasbunbunny @acaiasahi @ttyunz @cha0thicpisces @fairybinie @vatterie @yunkiwii @aprilisque @baekberrie @ashxxkook (let me know if you want to be added to this series taglist or fill this form to be part of the general taglist!)

© boba-beom ; all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, alter or translate in any way or platform.

[sparda-ly]

hello, darling!! how are u? i hope u are well and, if you don't, remember to take care of u, right?

anyway, i see that you want gow asks, so im here to fulfill that want of yours! i was thinking of a kratos x platonic reader where they did like to sing but never did it in front of other people. and one day, when kratos arrived earlier, he seen them singing. that's it. that's the thought.

you can ignore this ask if you want or if you don't fell like writing it!

oh, btw i love you, right? remember this!! 💕

– 🌙

kratos x (platonic) reader who is scared to sing in front of other people

warnings: none

note: hey there pretty ;) i love to see you in my inbox! i'm doing alright now, what about you? i hope you are taking care of yourself and i love you too honey 🫶🫶

the ghost of sparta often noticed you humming random melodies while adventuring or just throughout fulfilling simple tasks

he didn't honestly mind them, thinking of them usually as a slight distraction from the frequent enemy attacks and problems

despite his high iq in battle, you have to admit - the ghost of sparta is a little bit slow therefore he wouldn't even notice that you enjoy singing but are scared to do it

he would only start suspecting something is off when you talked about music with atreus

he could recognize the excitement and joy you radiated when talking about the topic, specifically singing

although, when atreus asked you if you sing, you suddenly went dead quiet and rapidly changed the subject

everything changed however during one peaceful day in spring when he got home a lttle bit sonner than expected causing an awkward tension between you both

he and atreus went out earlier to hunt deer for dinner, while you stayed at home and prepared for the meal

throughout your chore, without even realising when, you started singing

a song you heard sang by the local folks from a nearby town

your voice was angelic and soothing

upon arriving at the cottage, kratos stopped for a minute and tried to connect the voice to the owner, possibly working out what type of enemy has now attacked his home

when he walked in however, he was suprised to have seen you, chopping up vegetables while singing

feeling a bit uncomfortable knowing you haven't sensed his presence yet, kratos lightly coughed alerting you

hearing the sudden noise, you immediately stopped and looked at kratos, turning away in embarrassment

kratos stated "you can continue" adding "the sound is enjoyable" with the most straight face ever.

you, still embarassed, did not choose to further the singing experience and quickly avoided any interactions with kratos for the next few days

it wasn't until one specific night, when both mimir and atreus were fast asleep when kratos aksed you why you stopped singing in the kitchen those few days ago

you explain to him the situation and where your fear of singing in front of other people comes from

he only responds with a reassuring touch of your shoulder and "you must not hide your talent (y/n), it is what makes you special" leaving you there alone to analyze his words.

[arudoe]

talk about bruise anything you want, i wanna hear

YAAAY MORE BRUISE

i alr talked about some hcs so ill chat a bit about some aus i have heehee!

- idol jay au !

i feel like this one is prolly the most well known (only because its the only one ive ever drawn for….) but basically jay is an idol/musician and cole is his nr1 fan! it was very inspired by prime empire and also those like harry styles x reader wattpad fics from back in the day… yeah…

all ive got for the story so far is that cole went to a fansign event and while getting his magazine signed jay also sneaks his personal phone number on one of the pages (something along tbe lines of xxx-xxx-xxx text me o_<) and… yeah things move on from there 🙏🙏

- mad scientist jay and his creature cole

OKAYY this might be one of my weirder ones but i think about it a lot 😭😭

anyways jay is a disabled basement dweller college dropout scientist guy and one day he kind of feels some paranormal presence in his lab and conducts a bunch of tests and comes to tbe conclusion there is a ghost floating around in his lab. so like the normal person he is he tries to communicate with it but only gets a bunch of weird cryptid messages that dont make sense… so he comes to bright idea of “hey! i should make this ghost a vessel they can possess!” so he makes a body frankenstein style and low and behold his plan worked!

cole, a ghost from the 80s who possessed the body is now chilling in jays lab with him, but like most people who have been dead for over 40 years he is very curious about the outside world and what has changed.

but jay for some reason is very adamant about him not going outside at all, which causes some tension between the two..

(the reason is jay has abandoned issues) (also cole is kind of a freak of nature) (affectionately)

I LIKE THIS AU A LOT cus its so stupid honestly and i love me some ghost cole also like im still mad about how ninjago decided to completely discard jays love for inventing… let the man make his little trinkets…

- wizard school au

basically what it sounds like… they are wizards.. at a wizard school… and do magic…

yes this was partly inspired by h*rry p*tter BUT ONLY THE VIBES (i barely remember the movies)

BUT UM this is like a whole universe thing and theres so so much lore and world building so… if u want a separate post about it… lmk

- roommates au!

this is my most recent one (and the one i think about the most) but um yeah pretty self explanatory it was based off this jdrama/manga called good morning call so uhhh ya!

basically cole and jay were enemies throughout highschool and basically spend all their energy hating each other but they to their separate ways during college but reunite (unwillingly) as roommates!

they navigate living with each other and learn to let go of their hate (which stemmed from a mixture of misunderstandings and insecurities) and then eventually fall in love!!

i think this is the au i have the most work done on (i have a draft for every major scene that happens in the story heehee) and perhaps! one day i will actually make it a real thing !

so um yeah! i have a bunch more but most of them are very unfinished or just… vague ideas or vibes i go by… i also have some aus that arent bruise so um if anyone wants to hear about those… smiles

BUTTT TYSM FOR UR QUESTION i dont rly say this a lot but any interaction i get with my content means the world to me and i always giggle and kick my feet when reading reblog comments bc everyone is so nice 🥹🥹

[molsno]

hey, sorry if this is out of line, but I'm a "theyfab" (pre-everything guy, waiting for top approval, rly sensitive to hormones so worried about t) dating a transfemme. I want her to feel loved and seen by me - she's also early in transition and I want her to know that me loving her as she is DOESNT mean I won't continue to love her as she grows and changes. She's pretty shy and her only trans girl friends are online. Anyway, I want to learn how to NOT be like the tme people you've interacted with. U can ignore this, but if u do have advice I'd love to hear it!

Also, I'm really sorry about the abuse you've endured. It's not fair. It's not acceptable.

hi, I honestly appreciate you asking for advice! that to me shows that you do really care about her and want to be good to her

I think the most important thing is to keep in mind that she's in an incredibly vulnerable and precarious position. it sounds to me like she doesn't have a big support network. it can be very hard to build something like that as a trans woman (especially early in transition) but it's something that's absolutely vital. a big problem that I think a lot of us face is becoming overly dependent on a tme person (or a few of them) which can be completely devastating if that person leaves. I think the best thing you can do to help her is to encourage her to make more friends of her own. ideally, they should NOT just be your friends that you're introducing her to. she needs to have friends and allies completely separate from you. you cannot do everything for her, nor should you be expecting/expected to - that's a fast way to make sure your relationship falls apart. above all - and this is key - is to understand that you don't own her. she's an independent person, and she deserves to have her own life and make her own choices about it

I feel I should also warn you that this is going to be a very tumultuous time for her. she is literally starting to undergo a second puberty, and it will be just as distressing, hormonal, and emotional as the first one. cut her some slack if she seems irritable or upset for seemingly no reason. for me and a lot of other trans women I know, this was one of the most dysphoria-inducing periods of our lives. it very well might be for her too. it's easy to be upset that the hormones aren't working, or that changes aren't happening fast enough, or that you'll be ugly or not feminine enough, etc. she may express doubts like this. offer her reassurance! it will take time for her to see the changes she wants to see, but they'll come. in the mean time, let her know whenever you notice changes in her. maybe you'll notice her skin is softer, or her hair looks more lush, or her face is rounding out, or her hips are getting wider. let her know that you see these things and compliment her. early transition can very well be a source of joy, if she's able to take pleasure in the little changes, and you can absolutely be a part of that process!

I don't know if your relationship involves sex, and I don't want to make any assumptions about how you two engage in it if so. however, this is a common experience I hear about, so I feel like I should tell you this. don't expect her to have sex with you like a cis man. not only can it be dysphoria-inducing to always have to top, her body will possibly not even be capable of that soon due to the effects of estrogen. if that's how you've been having sex up until now, you'll have to really reorient how you two do things. I haven't read it myself, but I've heard the zine "fucking trans women" by mira bellwether contains a lot of good information on this topic. you may find it useful! I think you can read it at this link, but I'm not sure. if any of my followers have a better link, go ahead and put it in the replies!

finally, and this is honestly just a good tip for relationships in general, listen to her. if she's upset about something, take her seriously and don't pass judgment on her. don't immediately jump on the defensive if she's upset about something you've done in particular. try to put yourself in her shoes and see things from her perspective. show her that she can talk to you about anything and you'll be receptive, and you'll be able to have open, honest communication much more often, which will lead to a much stronger and healthier relationship

thank you for sending this, and thank you for your reassurance about my own trauma as well. it really means a lot to me! it really helps me feel more optimistic to know that there are tme people who are willing to listen to us and be better allies to us. I think your girlfriend is very lucky to have you, and I hope you can both be happy together!

before I go, I know I'm not that knowledgeable about your personal situation, but I would say that if you think testosterone would make you happier, you should pursue it! if you can obtain it, there's nothing wrong with taking it for a week or two, seeing how it makes you feel, and then deciding whether or not to keep taking it based on that. either way, I wish you the best!

[cosmicck]

I’m not sure if this is where I request for anything but I wanted to see if you were able right something like Rengoku x a feminine chubby male reader who’s one inch taller than him and has a ice type breathing, and they use fans to use their ice abilities.

Like I imagine the reader having a very blank face most of the time which makes him seem intimidating at times but is actually very nice once you talk to them and such

Ofcourse I can! I hope your ok with a full fic, it's kinda short cause of my writers block and I'm trying to get out of art block, but I'm happy to do this rq for you! Thank you!!♡♡(if you wanted and imagine/headcannon just dm me and i'll do that instead of this)

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

Ice cold☆

Rengoku x Feminine Male!Reader

Summary:Rengoku never wants to seem to have the wrong impression on anyone so he tries and gets to know you better, and finds your breathing style very unique.

Warning(maniac):not rlly any just fluff my dude.

Read this carefully. If you are straight or you do not have your sexuality in your bio, I can and will block you and the rules will become more strict.

-------------------------♡♡♡

"Good work M/n!! I've never seen your breathing style!! And with fans?? Amazing!!" Looking up at you with his usual smile as you give him a blank face, you wanted to smile and talk to him, you really did but you didn't want to interact and you were so damn tired so you just nodded and made a 'm' sound as you followed your crow.

Rengoku knew that you didn't speak much and thought that you hated everyone that crossed your path, but that didn't stop you from wanting to get to know you better, deep down he knew you were sweet, and that you cared for others all the time.

And he is very correct, 100 percent in fact, you cared for everyone especially Rengoku. You always loved his energy and how he was always positive, even in grave situations.

But what you didn't know is that he really admired you, might as well be in love in fact, the way you use fans instead of a sword to slay demons, and it was ice style, he found it amazing really.

He loved how tall you were, even if it was only one inch, he admire you so, your chubby, yet feminine like, which he finds adorable at times, people have even caugt him stealing glances at you before,he just loved you so.

You reached the butterfly estate for some of the Hashira were injured, even Rengoku was injured, but mans could hide it good, like he was in inmese pain.

Once you reached the estate you were greeted by Aoi who let you all in and set each of you guys in a pair of a room, and ofcourse you got Rengoku.

She camd to Rengoku first as she, wrapped Rengoku's wounds in which you noticed how bad they were.

"I'll be taking my leave now." She bowed and left the room, leaving you and Rengoku.

"Hey...are you ok?? I'm sorry I didn't notice your wounds before, they seem really bad..." you look down in guilt even so it wasn't your fault.

Rengoku had a shocked face, he knew that you'd talk to him soon, but not this soon. He gave you a heart warming smile. "I swear I am ok, and none of this is your fault M/n."

You didn't belive that he was 'ok' so you grabbed him and made him rest on you. "Just rest and I'll take care of you..ok??"

He was suprised by your actions but obliged to them anyway. He snuggled deep into your stomach, you where looking outside so you didn't really notice Rengoku traceing your curves.

"You know for a man, you are quite feminine...did you know that??" Your face turned beet red when he said that to you, nobody had ever even said that you looked feminine, but you took this as a comoliment.

"U-uh thank you?? I guess??" He smiles at you once more.(damn how is yo jaw not broken??)"And your body is quite squishy, It's nice." He says as he burried his face into you.

"Hah!?!? Your not just saying that!? Do love my body that much??" He got up and came to you face-to-face.

"Absolutely! And not just your body, I love you as much as I love food!!" You were so red at this point, no one has ever said these things to you.

"T-thank y-you, and I'm glad your ok Rengoku..."

[mrhowells]

Smallville 4x22

Can't say I feel sorry for Genevieve bc that woman was nasty but Lana just got another thing added to the huge pile of trauma she already had😬

oh hey Lex, so what happened here was-

bunnyyyyy💕

"I had this one last week, really scary. This... guy wearing a red cape." "Wow, that sounds horrible Lois."

I can't do this they're so?????

STOP HAVING EYE SEX IN FRONT OF THE PARENTS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

I'mskSJkslKSL Jonathan's face kills me

Mr. and Mrs. Kent, I just wanted to say thanks for everything. You guys are like the Mom and Dad I've always wanted to have.

Lois bby🥺😭😭

"Lois, we want you to know that you are welcome back here any time."

"Actually-" "We'll all miss you, Lois."

SHUSH Clark, we're having a moment here😭

blushing kicking my feet

"Oh, come on Clark, your future is laid out right in front of you. You're gonna go to community college, major in agriculture, probably minor in law enforcement. And then you and Lana are gonna have a nice little church wedding."

I can't😭

He's such a menace around her it's EVERYTHING

"Even if I could spell, the last thing I'd wanna do is spend my time in a newsroom. With my luck, I'd probably end up across the desk from the most bumbling reporter on the masthead."

OMFGSAHSAJDKHA

so much eye contact I'm going insane

If you hear faint screaming in the distance, that's me I'm losing it

CLARK YOU CAN'T LOOK AT HER LIKE THAT AND EXPECT ME TO BE NORMAL ABOUT IT I'M FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE HERE

i already know I'm going to hit the media upload limit and have to delete stuff, ugh😭

this episode is feeding me so well

my beautiful family😭😭😭 they raised me actually, true story

"Because you have a way of getting things in half the time a normal person gets things done." "And I'm not normal?"

Chloe really didn't do this one on purpose but OUCH😬

Lois with her "the general said/ taught me..."🥹

now tell me why this interaction fills me with so much joy😭

I love them so much it makes me look stupid

CLARK WILL U STOP BLAMING YOURSELF JESUS STOOOOP

✨and then I paused the episode and didn't continue until over a month later, my brain is wired like that I fear✨

Jor El is so unserious I'm sorry, if he wasn't so vague and cryptic all the time a lot of messes could've been avoided🤡

I just imagine the actual Jor El watching this go down in the afterlife and facepalming so hard

Clark is sad = I'm sad, it's the law

Lana giving Clark the stone without even removing the blood first lol

I feel so bad for her😭 I swear whoever made the plot decisions on this show got off on Lana being in pain and I'm getting more and more angry on her behalf.

and that's on good instincts

(I've seen people say that Lana going to Lex instead of Clark after killing Genevieve is further proof that she doesn't trust Clark at all and it's like... how tf was Clark going to help her in this situation???😭 I agree that Lana and Clark have trust issues ad infinitum but in this case she just did the logical thing, come on now)

I have to respect this man for the level of unhinged he's reached, truly

Lois is so cool😩 Once again I am free on Saturday-

"Before you leave this earth I want you to know... you did create the son you always wanted."

Lionel when I get my hands on you

NUH UH JASON YOU TOUCH MARTHA ALL BETS ARE OFF

I need Lex to chill and stop manhandling Lana & Chloe please and thank you💀 He's joining the unhinged club

Martha & Jonathan against Jason?? Yes please I love fights between people without powers or martial arts training

🎶somebody save meeeeeee🎶

the way Chloe pushed Lex against the cave wall was hilarious I'm sorry

Fortress bestie we're almost hereee🥳

:(((((

Lois is sad = I'm sad, again, those are the rules

seeing the only place she ever considered a permanent home getting completely destroyed, IT'S A LOT. This whole episode was a lot.

And let's not even get started on Lana JESUS CHRIST. Smallville writers I think we need to sit down and have a conversation about her because WTF?

I don't even care that the witch plot was wacky and Jason's character arc was really badly executed, this season was so much fun.

[newtthetranswriter]

PLEASE WRITE THIS WHEN U HAVE TIME. I know your requests are closed, but I wanted to request this because my memory is very bad & I forget a lot of my ideas.

transfem reader w toji fushiguro (or gojo if you’d rather write him) who has gender dysphoria about her body? maybe she does everything she can to appeal to the stereotypically feminine view—makeup, hair, heels—but when she sees the women that flirt w her boyfriend, she can’t help but feel inferior. maybe her body’s too rectangular or her chest is too small.

I can’t seem to find any fics like this, and I really like your blog 🙏🙏 again, please write this when your requests are open.

Word count: 1932

Pairing Satoru Gojo x Trans!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Self doubt, mentions of transphobia (internalized and old fashioned views), ooc gojo?

A/n: Hello Thank you so much for requesting. I know you said I could wait to write it until I opened requests again, but I just felt inspired by this so I hope you enjoy it. Also I went with Gojo mainly because I'm not the biggest toji fan. I am trans masculine so I’m not 100% sure if I captured the feelings trans fem people feel so if there are any mistakes please let me know. Anyways enjoy and remember to Hydrate or Diedrate.

Dating Satoru was a dream come true. I mean seriously never would I have thought such a high ranking member of Jujutsu society would even look my way let alone The Satoru Gojo. But I guess I got lucky, and even though Satoru is one of the most loving people I have ever met, I can’t help but to doubt myself.

Afterall life as a transgender person is hard enough as it is but add the strict and stuff beliefs of the older generation of Jujutsu sorcerers and you have a breeding ground for self doubt. Everytime Satoru and I are in public or have to interact with one of the other clans, my mind is flooded with terrible thoughts. ‘How can Satoru stand to be seen with me, there are so many more beautiful women out there.’ or ‘He’d be better off with a cis woman who is truly beautiful.’ It’s hard to quiet these thoughts when I’ve heard these comments from the higher ups in passing and sometimes I believe them.

And today of all days, the thoughts are more precisdent as me and Satoru are out on one of the few dates we get with his busy schedule. I had spent hours before trying to look as beautiful as possible to make this date perfect, I had Shoko help me pick a nice outfit and the perfect pair of heels. I spent most of the day perfecting the perfect hairstyle and make-up look for the night. Eventually with major words of encouragement from Shoko and Satoru himself I was ready, I even started the night feeling confident that I looked amazing.

But alas all good feelings come to an end. Once we were at the restaurant, I couldn’t help but notice all the beautiful women staring at Satoru and I mean I can’t blame them but it just caused the thoughts to surface again. Noticing my slight shift in mood Satoru turned to me, “Hey is everything okay?” He asked as he placed his arm around my waist. Not wanting to worry him I just smiled and nodded at him. “Okay… but you know if there’s something bothering you let me know, Ok?” He said, I could tell he was skeptical but he dropped the topic when the hostess asked us to follow her to the table.

Once seated we talked briefly about how his students were doing and how curses were becoming more annoying as of late before dropping the topic of work and just talking about tv and plans for the next couple weeks. “And I was thinking that we could go check out the new mall that opened up recently, I saw some beautiful dresses I thought you might like and would love to get you a few,” Satoru explained as he looked at the menu in front of him.

“That sounds lovely.” I responded and was planning on continuing the conversation when a waitress approached the table.

Looking at the young woman, I couldn’t help but notice how she was the picture of feminine beauty. Curvy in all the right places, perfect hair and subtle but gorgeous make-up. “Hello I’m Ally, I’ll be your server tonight, can I get you any drinks?” Hearing her speak for some reason made my heart hurt, knowing I would likely never sound as young and girlish as her. 

I noticed Satoru looked at me and I quickly wiped the look of doubt off my face before he could say anything. I guess it worked because he turned his attention back to the woman, and quickly ordered us some wine and an appetizer we had agreed on. The waitress wrote the order down before excusing herself to take care of the order. Once she had walked away Satoru turned back to me. “Are you absolutely positive nothing is wrong?” He asked as he placed his hand over mine on the table. Once again not wanting to sour the mood of the evening, I nodded and said I was fine and turned the topic back to the previous conversation.

After we got our drinks and we ordered our entrees, I couldn’t help but notice that our waitress was checking in on us more than what is normally expected. She would stop by the table every time she walked by to check if the wine was to our liking or if we needed anything while we waited for the main course. I quickly picked up on how she would get slightly closer to Satoru’s side of the table each time, it was also clear that Satoru hadn’t noticed the subtle comments being directed at him. I couldn’t help but think that he was saying anything about it because he liked being hit on by a cis woman. Maybe he secretly hates the fact that I'm trans and just doesn’t want to hurt my feelings. Eventually the thoughts got the best of me and tears started to well up in my eyes and it was taking everything out of me not to burst into sobs.

Once the waitress left again saying she would check on our food, Satoru turned to look at me, and I could see his eyes widen exponentially even through his dark sunglasses. “Hey, it’s ok. What’s wrong and don’t say nothing, something is clearly bothering you.” He said gently but sternly as he squeezed my hand and pulled his sunglasses off so I could make unobstructed eye contact. 

Not having the strength to hold it in any longer I let out a few of my thoughts, maybe a little too loud for the setting but I couldn’t hold it in. “Why are you with me Satoru? You could have anyone, so why me?” It took the white haired male a second to process what was said but before he could speak, I continued. “I’m not beautiful like every woman here, I’m not curvy in all the right spots, my make up looks like a middle schooler did it, so why do you stay with me, when you could have a real woman?” I hated saying it but it was true in my mind, or at least I believed it. I wasn’t thin with big boobs and a big butt, I’m just flat. My figure is the opposite of curvy, I have broad shoulders and the flattest chest. I can’t grasp how someone so handsome can sit across from someone like me and say that I’m beautiful when so many better people are around.

After my mini outburst it was almost silent in our area of the restaurant. Satoru just looked at me stunned, he knew I suffered from dysphoria but he thought he had done a good job helping me feel better. The six-eyes user looked down at the table before speaking. “I know you have trouble believing me when I say this but you are the most beautiful person I have ever met. I don’t care if you aren’t curvy or if you struggle with make-up sometimes, No matter what you are beautiful to me.” As he said this he stood from the table and whipped the tears that had escaped my eyes from my face. While he was focused on me I noticed our waitress coming back this time with our food in hand. Seeing me look in that direction Satoru waved over the woman. “Can you have those put in togo boxes for us? My partner and I are done here.” I looked up at him shocked, but before I could protest he spoke again. “And before that can you please have your supervisor come speak with me?” Now I’m extremely confused.

“Satoru, what are you doing? I thought we were going to eat here?” I asked, confused, as I watched a nervous looking man approach. Satoru just stood up straight, put his sunglasses on and turned to the man who I’m now guessing is the supervisor.

“You must be the supervisor. I would like to file a complaint about the waitress who served me and my lovely partner here.” Satoru spoke in his formal tone he reserved for the higher ups, it was clear he was upset but he sounded so calm. “I was just trying to enjoy one of the rare occasions when I can pamper my Love, and your waitress spent most of the night hitting on me. Now I tried to be understanding and let it slide, but after numerous comments that clearly made my partner upset, I have decided that we will be taking our food to go and we will not be returning to this establishment.” While I didn’t expect that, I wasn’t expecting the look of concern that washed over the man’s face at my boyfriend's comment. “I will also be pulling all support from this restaurant that is provided by the Gojo estate.” With that final comment Satoru turned to me and offered his hand for me to take, as I stood up, the waitress from before brought our food now in to-go boxes and handed it to Satoru.

With food in hand we started to exit the restaurant, but before we could reach the door, the supervisor ran after us calling for Satoru. “Mr. Gojo please reconsider, I’ll fire this woman. Flirting with customers is against restaurant policy. Please do not pull the funding.” At first It seemed that he was actually upset about what the woman did but with the last sentence it was clear he was actually more worried about the money the Gojo clan apparently provided the business. 

“No, I will be pulling the funding. You clearly care more about the money then how your employees are treating your top investors.” Satoru said not even looking at the man. With that we left and went home.

Once we were home and finished with our food, we laid down in our large bed and just cuddled with each other. Breaking the silence I asked a question I had been thinking about since we left. “Why did you do that?” I felt him looking at me clearly confused by the sudden question. “I mean tell that guy you were pulling the funding from the restaurant, I didn’t know the Gojo clan had investments in such things.” I was confused.

I felt Satoru chuckle as I laid on his chest before he spoke. “First, The Gojo clan has investments in a lot you don’t know about. Secondly I told him that because I meant it.” I lifted my head to look at him. As if reading my mind he continued, “I’m not going to support a business that only cares about the money and only has a problem with staff being disrespectful when their funds are threatened.” I nodded and was about to say something before he stopped me. “Plus I could tell you were uncomfortable the entire time and were just holding back for my sake. I want you to know that if there is ever a problem I will deal with it.”

“Thank you Satoru.” I said laying my head back on his chest. I decided it was probably time to go to sleep when I let out a small yawn. 

As I drifted off, I heard Satoru speak one last time. “I love you, Y/n, don’t ever forget it. And I mean it when I say you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, I could never wish for more.” With that he placed a kiss to the top of my head and we both fell asleep enjoying each other's embrace.

[biribaa]

I’m crying your write for stray- I’m in love Ty Ty 4 blessing me 😭 anyway could I get a momo comforting a reader with fluff? I had a shit day yesterday but ur writings just brought my mood up 100% <3(also idc what the reader is upset/mad about I’ll let u choose!)

More Momo conforting reader<33

AAAA IM SO HAPPY IT HELPED YOU!!

You see, this is the main reason for my oneshots, most of the time i write x readers when i'm really stressed and/or depressed, so i write cute scenarios of my F/O, or characters who are not rlly my F/O but are the F/O of my followers, and i have a cool sncenario for they, so i write it and post it, and then make people happy :]]

Im srry it took too long for answear, but i swear i'll make it worth it

Knock knock knock

You slammed your fist on Momo's door, you didn't even needed to knock, you could rest your head on the door right there. You were so tired, you didn't have the strength to move anymore, not even the mentality to think and every sigh you took only exhausted your lungs, you're so done today.

And the darkness around didn't help, the sky that was and always will be a "night with stars" only influenced you more and more to rest now.

The door opened only for your eyes to hurt from the yellow light from inside the robot house. And there, was a silhouette you could always recognize

"Well well wellI, you finally decided to show up, i was starting to get worried you know?"

"Yeah"

You walked inside Momo's house, every move was a scream asking for any kind of comfort to ease your stress, anything, you would accept anything now. So, seeing that the sofa was occupied with Momo's boxes, you moved straight to Momo's bed, you didn't take off your coat or shoes, nothing, you just threw your body that looked more like a corpse onto the fabric. Your face was not visible now that it's directly over the comfort, you blocked the sides of your head with your arms, preventing any ray of light to annoy you.

Well you know Momo is no idiot, he clearly noticed these details in your behavior, normally when you come back you smile and hug him, but today, only that? Did he do something you didn't like? Is he not being enough? Did someone hurt you?

"Hey" A voice echoed through the small room, it was Momo's. "You fine?"

You groaned in response, Christ, you didn't even have the energy to speak. You slightly turned your head until you could poke an eye out of your arms and see Momo standing in front of you, he was curling his fingers over his other fingers, it was a gesture he usually made, it was usually when he was nervous...

You wanted help, you wanted comfort from your boyfriend, to feel his metallic skin on your flesh skin, and listen to his advice as he pats you on the back. But at the same time, what if he doesn't understand? You are afraid, afraid of facing another disappointment with a person, afraid of interaction.

"I..." Words couldn't come out of your mouth, what were supposed to be words, just sounded like grunts.

"Shh." He placed his hand on your exhausted back, drawing circles that comforted your shoulders "You know what, I can see in your face how exhausted and tired you are, and you look ugly when exhausted, i hate to see you ugly. If you want, you don't have to talk about it, okay?" Momo said in a calm tone while looking into your eyes. As you stared with dead fish, dismayed and lifeless eyed, you slowly turned your face into your arms.

"I do not deserve you." You confessed, your humiliating tone hit Momo

"I should be saying this, Y/N." It was the last thing Momo said before you heard his footsteps slowly going away.

You gain enough silence to think about the whole situation, and silence enough to appreciate it. You didn't have any kind of misunderstanding with Momo, none of him getting stressed, or him being an asshole to you, there's no reason for you to be anxious around him. Momo actually understands you, and understands when you want to be alone, and understand when you're going to need him, was he really the best thing that happened to you since you came here?

All these thoughts made you tired... That's when you noticed for a brief second how your shoes were already bothering you, then, looking like an adult just out of a 10-hour shift, you took off your shoes with your own toes, it was even an easy and simple action.

It was a matter of minutes before you noticed a sign of life coming from Momo. You immediately noticed a pleasant food smell, and seconds later, a sound of a cymbal hitting wood, your attention is easily caught. You lifted your head, and on Momo's desk, you saw a warm plate duo the baked potatoes inside it.

"But you said–"

"Doc had some extra potatoes in his greenery and gave it to me." And again, Momo stroked your back gently. "Now do me a quick favor and get up, I want to do something." You, already being more than happy today for all your boyfriend's help, thought that you could do this minimum to reciprocate. You removed your arms that were around your head and lifted your body, placing your feet on the floor and getting up from the bed, waiting for Momo to do some kind of action after that

Momo climbed onto the bed and leaned his back against the wall as he sat up. He spread his legs, and looked at you, patting the empty space between his legs. You quickly understood the gesture, and got your knees up on the bed and crawled up to Momo until you could sit between his legs, and use Momo's entire torso as a backrest. The robot put one arm around your waist, and used the free hand to pick up the plate full of food and give it to you. Now he could put both arms around her waist

Your cheeks turned slightly pink, and you couldn't hold back your sweet smile. With all that, you easily felt safe, especially since Momo was slightly taller than you, and, well, obviously more resistant. You were amazed how such cold skin from a robot made your face so warm and your stomach full of butterflies. Woah, wait, so all this time you've never gotten along with anyone because they're human? And maybe you do better with robots? Damn bro.

You took one of the baked potatoes and put it in your mouth, it was perfect, for a robot that had spent years without human interaction, Momo cooked very well. The potato warmed every corner of the cold interior of your mouth, it was satisfactory. Without hesitation, you started biting the rest of the potatoes on the plate.

While you were eating, Momo clasped his arms around your waist. "Everything is fine now?" The machine questioned

"Yes." You hummed "Thank you so much Momo, seriously..."

"I'm always here when you're stressed, 'kay?" Momo gently placed his screen over your shoulder "Chu..." He simulated a kiss

———

Ok

I'll be honest, I don't feel like I liked this oneshot very much... I feel like I could have done more, but I didn't have any more ideas, I promise I gave my effort :)

[cmbdragon98]

Please tell us more about how your wife tricked you into dating her

So, setup, details all under cut, cuz it's a bit lengthy. Fun story though!

Tumblr circa 2015. Junior year of high school. I've convinced myself that dating is NOT for me, and that I should just wait until college to fuck around and find out. Just gone through a nasty little emotional breakup where in the near future, I'll wish that thar 2nd ever relationship was simply, entirely expunged from my life.

Paige, known as benedict-cutiebatch here, makes a post about being bored and wanting asks sent her way. Send your best pickup line. This was back when people sent eachother asks willy-nilly. I think, "Oh, sure, I've seen this person around, she seems alright. I'll send something funny and stupid, maybe make her laugh."

Send the "hot leg, hot hot leg" poem thing. She is so amused by it, she asks for my hand in marriage. Yaddayaddayadda, back and forth of just playing around pretend times. I have a lot of lighthearted fun. Cue the interaction ending, and us doing our separate things again. A week or so passes, and I've been specifically checking her blog. I don't do that with anybody else. This is a new habit I've picked up, because I loved the silly fake marriage tee hee haha joke.

Send an ask saying as such. She expresses similar sorta thing on her end. And we start talking again. Talking waaaayyy mooorree.

We talk fully through the night. No sleep. We talk fully through that next day. Eventually we exchange Skypes, because that's what everyone did in 2015. Flirting through the roof. Terribly blatant. Oml. But we're not dating, we're just. Completely all up in eachother. And I'm perfectly convinced that this girl probably just wants to enjoy the fun of somebody being bluntly into her, but not actually follow through further then that, and we'd just remain terribly forward friends with eachother, and that's how life goes sometimes.

Until I recieve an anon ask, that basically asks if me and her are dating and how c u t e we both seem to be, and I Assume that this is an unrelated third party, because, again. It was just waaay more common to recieve asks like that, back when I was a teenager. I respond to it all...

"L o l, naaahh.... b u t... It's not a Bad Idea.... 👀"

Anon sends another ask all... You should! You should try asking!

I think nothing of it, I take it as quite genuine advice that I do frankly agree with. And so. That's what my ass did. Asked Paige out in the most goofy, awkward way, after sending her screenshots of the anons, all "Haha, omgg, isn't this just sOoOoOo CrazyYyYy?? How Silly, hahaha.......... Unless.....?"

Fast forward like 2 years later into us being together, she's visiting me while I'm at college, we've Been seeing eachother, we've been having fun! So much fun!

She's sat on my lap while we're waiting on a ride back to my home, outside at a table and chairs; my ass fucking commuted. It's winter, and terribly cold in NY. I'm holding her close, and she starts saying something like... "Hey, you wanna hear something kinda fucked up...?"

I'm intrigued, of course, I'm like. Shoot, okay! I'm all ears.

Tells me that She was the one who sent those anons, and that she had a feeling I wouldn't Just Ask without being prompted. She, as she put it herself, lied to and tricked me. And she's clearly all broken up over it a bit, because she's sounding so hesitant as she tells me it.

I just sigh, hug her tighter, and I'm honest. Recalling best I can, I think it was something along the lines of...

"Thank goodness you did that, because you were totally right. I was too nervous otherwise, to just do that myself. And I would've kept on thinking you only wanted somebody to flirt with. I liked you too much. I didn't want to accidentally ruin anything between us."

Poor thing starts crying. So I just keep holding her, and telling her I love her, and that I'm r e a l l y not upset, after she says she was so worried that I would be, that I'd hate her, or think our relationship was built on a lie. I just see it as a perfectly reasonable thing to do, when someone too stuck in not doing the wrong thing, is too afraid to just ask for what she wants.

So yeah, basically, I got led into a relationship with a carrot and then a box slammed down around me, and I was completely chill with it the entire time. I truly was just having a blast.

[fairycosmos]

I have a crush on u and it's actually making me kinda sad. its embarrassing, I don't know u, u don't know me. and there's not really a 'chill' way to begin conversation (not that u'd like me anyway, so no point, lol). I get internet crushes are embarrassing n stupid. but seeing how u respond to people alone, is enough for me to feel something u kno? it never fails to amaze me how attentive & present & thoughtful and deeply compassionate u are to each & every person. it's never dismissive in the slightest, and doesn't feel like ur attending to an 'audience' but actually just so attentive and in tune in the most resonant way with each person. u care. u have such a great capacity to empathise w others, to make people feel seen n heard. and it somehow seems effortless, and just undeniably genuine. you're special. please preserve this precious part of u.

awwww angel you are so so sincerely sweet <3 dw i get this for ppl online sometimes it's sort of a parasocial thing but then it's also about like. finding companionship and security and a sense of true appreciation for ppl online in the absence of having it IRL and i can totally understand how that can morph into some semblance of a crush if you get crushes on people quickly. i really really appreciate it and am so deeply flattered for real <3 esp with how fucking unloveable i feel all the fucking time lmfao!! the thing is i know it's soooo cliche but i think it's just easy to read me that way on here when in reality i am just straight up not that emotionally or physically desirable - and u would get over it quickly if you knew me, i absolutely promise lmfao. anyway it's prob cringe and unhealthy but yeah i Absolutely do care ab the ppl who make an effort to interact with me and open up to me on here and i find a lot of solace in knowing im not the only one who is severely mentally ill and struggling lmfao. i very much want people to feel seen and heard like i rmr when i was 16 and people first started telling me ab their lives on here and i was like Well i know how shit it is to feel unacknowledged and if i can give that to this person through my silly little blog why fucking not - whether it resonates with them or not, whether able to solve anything for them or not. i don't think it's anything particularly special, in fact i think a lot of people feel the same on here which is why we're often so open and vulnerable with each other, but yeah i am just another person trying my best. and this blog has been a massive comfort to my during a time where i have been genuinely entirely emotionally isolated and honestly not reading reality correctly or healthily - i know i still don't. i'm like not right in the head in a way that isn't easy to explain away and i know a lot of people on here are too (lmfao sounds like shade but i mean it earnestly.) so i think it's a two way street and i appreciate the ppl who keep up with me and who i keep up with a lot, prob more than i can articulate. i do make the effort to not be dismissive and i really adore you for seeing that and being truly kind about it. ab the feeling of having a crush - again, i am seriously so flattered and blushing and screaming inside at the absolute compliment lmfao. if ur ever in a place where you want to get to know someone (and obviously ur around my age and you think we'd get along well) - hey my dms are open!! i'd love to know ya and keep up with you too. MWAH <3