#aside from crude sex jokes

[hobbithabits]

Am I gonna be able to find a fanfic of Data and Bashir sexing nasty style or am I just gonna have to make it myself

[empresskylo]

I’m begging for you to write about virgin!Ghost and virgin!reader,lots of love 🩷x

virgin!simon 'ghost' riley x virgin!afab!reader

a/n: this truly spoke to me, so thank you for this. i wanted to write a pathetic, nervous ghost, but decided to write him how i actually think he'd act if he was a virgin.

warnings: mentions of SA (reference to ghost's past as mentioned in his comics where he is SA'd); smut

cod masterlist

Who would ever think Simon Riley was a virgin?! 

I mean look at the man!! Rough and assertive. A lieutenant who everyone is afraid of. Easily in his mid-to-late thirties. Crude with his jokes. A damn war criminal. Why would anyone in their right mind assume he was a virgin? 

Except that wasn’t the whole picture. Simon stood witness to how his dad treated women when he was younger. Saw the way he mistreated sex workers. And Simon didn’t want to become like his father, so he ended up distancing himself from girls his age, afraid it might be in his genetics to be shitty. And he watched his “friend” almost assault a woman once—Simon was disturbed, desperate to not emulate that. And not to mention he was big and scary, he was worried he’d frighten women, so he just avoided them for the most part. And when he was sexually assaulted, he thought maybe sex just wasn’t for him. 

And now he was older. Too old to be a virgin, he thought. He wasn’t a self-conscious man, but he didn’t want to disappoint anyone in bed either, so the more he put it off, the more he didn’t want to do it all together. He also found it hard to form relationships in his line of work, and he refused to pay for sex. 

So, by his mid-thirties, he was still a virgin.

Then he met you and it felt so easy being with you. He felt himself wanting to grind against you the first time you kissed—that's when he realized how depraved he had been for so long, he didn’t realize how much he was truly missing.

And one night, after you and him had been a thing for a little while, you finally got the nerves to kiss him and straddle his lap. His hands naturally found your waist and he ran them up and down your sides, gently squeezing your flesh above your clothes. 

Then you pulled back, looking down a bit shyly. 

“What’s a’matta?” he asked you, his hands still firmly gripped on your hips.

“I, uhm,” you stuttered. “I’ve never done this before.” There, you finally said it. You were so worried Simon would become awkward when you told him, what if he didn’t want to be with someone so inexperienced? And you didn’t know if he was going to be uncomfortable with the idea of being your first time—that maybe he didn’t want that responsibility.

His hand slid up and nudged your chin to look at him. Simon was already planning to go as far as you’d let him, and he had decided he wasn’t going to tell you he had never done this before. If you said he was bad in bed, he’d apologize and lie, saying it had just been a long time since he’d been laid. But then you admitted you were in the same boat as him (aside from the fact that you were much younger than him.)

“Me neither,” he admitted.

Your eyes met his and you cracked the smallest of grins. “Don’t make fun of me!” 

He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “M’not.”

You blinked at him. “R-Really?”

He chuckled. “Never really had the opportunity, I’suppose.” That was the short version.

“Oh.”

You squirmed on top of him and he groaned. “That, uhm. Makes me a little less embarrassed.” Your eyes averted his.

Before you could ramble more about it, Simon jerked your head down to kiss him. “Happy to help.”

You smiled against his lips and Simon gripped your hips tightly in his hands, pulling you down against him. You would have thought he’d be a little more reserved, awkward even, having never had done this before. But Simon Riley was a confident man. He was self-assured. Bold. Fearless. And he wasn’t going to let his lack of experience hinder the potential between the two of you.

You gasped, feeling how hard he was in his pants as he yanked you against him. He hummed against your lips, the softness of them making him imagine what they might feel like wrapped around his cock. 

When you whimpered in the back of your throat, Simon was quick to twist you around and lay you flat on your back on the couch. He bullied himself between your legs and refused to let you catch your breath before his lips were back on yours. 

“Please,” he begged pathetically, pawing at the hem of your shirt. 

You gave him room and he stripped you quickly, clearly enthusiastic about having you naked beneath him. You clawed at his shirt and he was more than happy to oblige, tearing it over his chest and unbuckling his pants. 

Your knees had come together as you watched him strip and he smirked. His hands slid along your calf before pulling your legs apart and weaseling his way back to where he was. He kissed you again, both of you anticipating what was to come, but nervous at the same time. 

You bucked your hips up as his hands traced your bare side. He broke the kiss. “Want me t’touch you, love?”

You nodded your head, your face warming. His hand snaked its way between your bodies, tracing the apex of your thighs and rubbing against you. “L-Lower,” you gasped. His fingers shifted and you couldn’t constrain the moan. 

“There?” He asked you, tilting his head as he admired your wanton expression. 

Your breathing hitched when his fingers found your entrance. “Jus’ tell me if you want me t’stop,” he whispered against your lips. 

When you said nothing in response, he pushed one finger inside you. You squeezed around him tightly, your body trying to push him back out. You arched your back off the couch as he shoved his finger all the way inside of you. He began to pump his fingers, you were already soaking for him.

He watched you intently, the obscene noises from his fingers shifting inside you making him harder than he thought possible. It was also making him blush and causing his heart to race. His fingers might have trembled slightly if they weren’t buried inside you, busy at work. Your eyes locked with his, your brows furrowing, feeling him slide another finger in along the first. He was a bit clumsy as he worked you, but it felt good just the same.

“My god,” you gasped. 

Simon groaned when you clenched tightly around his two fingers, imagining how that would feel around his cock instead. 

“Sound so pretty,” he cooed.

Your arms grasped at his biceps, your hips rising to meet each pump of his fingers. “Want you inside me,” you whimpered.

Simon clicked his tongue. “Already inside you, love,” he teased, curing his fingers upwards as if to say, see.

You pouted, your body jolting with electricity from the deep baritone of his voice. His fingers stretched you out plenty, you weren’t sure how he was supposed to fit inside you… but you wanted to find out. You wanted to feel the pressure of his throbbing cock. You wanted to watch him grunt and groan with pleasure above you. You almost wished he would come prematurely, too drunk from fucking you to keep himself together. You were the first person he was going to fuck and a strange swell of satisfaction filled your already racing chest.

“Si-Simon,” you whined.

He smirked before slipping his fingers out of you. You watched through half-lidded eyes as he sucked the wetness from his fingers, his eyes darkening and never breaking contact from yours.

“Want me t’fuck you, sweet girl?” he asked, gripping his cock in his fist and giving it a few pumps.

You watched and swallowed before letting out a pathetic, “Yes.”

He fell back on top of you, his hands on either side of your head, his knees bent on the couch as he settled himself between you. You shifted your hips to give him a better angle as he lined himself up with you. You both watched as he moved himself between your bodies. “Tell me if I’m hurtin’ ya.”

Before you had a chance to respond, Simon was pushing the head of his cock inside of you. He was a bit rough when he entered you—a bit jittery and weak with anticipation—though he tried desperately not to be. You squeezed your eyes shut, your nails digging into his biceps. Simon groaned, edging himself in a little at a time. “You okay, baby?” He asked you.

Your eyes fluttered open and you gave a hesitant nod. “Yes. Keep going.”

His thumb stroked your cheek then brushed over your bottom lip. Your fingers slid up his back, dancing over the corded muscle and scars under your fingertips. Simon edged himself in, then out, and repeated that until he could finally seat himself fully inside you. Your thighs clamped around his waist, wanting to stop the intrusion on instinct. 

“M’ all in,” he told you, his breath airy like he had just run a mile.

“Oh, thank god,” you said exasperated.

Simon chuckled, the deepness of his voice vibrating through his chest and across yours. 

“Can I move?” He asked you.

You swallowed, the stinging between your thighs subduing. You nodded. Simon leaned down to kiss you, his dog tag dragging across your chest, the cool metal warming. Your lips parted, his own moving against yours. Simon devoured the gasp you slid into the kiss when he pulled out halfway. He pushed himself back in and you groaned, a small whimper forming in the back of your throat. He grabbed your thigh, hiking it up slightly so he could get a better angle. 

He continued to thrust inside you, only pulling out halfway each time, before struggling to push himself back in. He kept at a slightly awkward rhythm, grunts slipping past his lips and ghosting across yours. His head slid into the crook of your neck, your nails digging into his back, but Simon could barely feel that. All he was focusing on was how heavenly you found surrounding him. 

“Shit,” he moaned, surprised at how fast he was approaching the end. Simon knew that plenty of men struggled to get off the first time from sheer nerves. Others lasted barely any time at all. But he also knew women seemed to struggle the first time, not even expecting to orgasm until much later down the line. 

Simon wasn’t going to let that happen. He slowed his pace, only doing small little thrusts, his hips rolling against yours, pushing you back into the mattress. His hand snaked between your bodies, finding your clit, and rubbing circles. You arched your hips up to get him to touch you at a better spot and you mewled. 

“Close?” he beckoned. 

Surprisingly, you were. You hadn’t thought you’d actually get this close to orgasming your first time. You thought you’d be a ball of self-conscious nerves. But with Simon, you felt comfortable. Relaxed. Excited. Beautiful. And the way his fingers were putting pressure between your legs was making you see stars.

He continued his small pumps, wanting to focus on you more than himself, but he couldn’t help but growl in the back of his throat, your warmth tightening around him. 

His movements grew more rapid and you cried out his name. He cursed, feeling you spasm around him as he led you into your climax, his final ruts sending you over the edge. You finally clenched down so hard, Simon had to pull out, rubbing himself against your clit and coming onto your stomach. 

He groaned, “Fuckin’ hell.”

You were panting, your chest rising and falling in rapid beats. It took you both a moment to collect yourselves. He stared down between your bodies, taking in the sight. Now that you weren’t in the heat of the moment, you suddenly felt self-conscious, all too aware of the way your entire body was laid bare to him. 

Your hand shifted to cover your chest and he clicked his tongue. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, love.”

Your chest swooned from his admiration. He quickly leaned over to grab his t-shirt to clean you off. You felt your face warm before he scooped you up into his arms, ready to carry you to the bathroom. 

“Good?” He asked.

A simple question. But one he needed to hear the answer to.

“Perfect.”

Simon grinned, trying to suppress his teeth from showing, but he couldn’t help it. He tucked you closer into his chest as he marched you both to the bathroom. 

[outofconcheol]

Collision (LMH x F!Reader)

pairing: football player!Minho x RA!reader (afab) genres/au/rating: smut, fluff, some angst, college au, 18+ summary: The school year was a chance to start fresh - make new memories, meet new people, and most of all to leave the past behind. But Lee Minho is determined to make sure you never forget the one summer night you’d spent with him - no matter how hard he has to work for it.

warnings: alcohol, swearing, some crude jokes, OC is a bad RA, Minho is very whipped, such poor communication, minor mention of weed, bad poetry, disciplinary action against students

word count: 14k

a/n: it's finally finished! this was the result of me spiraling after seeing this tiktok edit of Super Bowl Minho? also totally not because i was also an RA who lived next to a pack of frat boys in college (don't jump into fountains with boys kids). this also might be a good time to confess that i know nothing about football, so that's fun! i'm so sorry it was so slow coming out, i hope you enjoy!

smut warnings under the cut!

smut warnings: brief, non-graphic smut scene, but also: kissing (so much kissing), dirty talk, marking, nipple play, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls)

The common room was oddly quiet. Normally, you’d hear people shuffling around and chattering in the halls, their laughter echoing off the dull grey tiles. But right now, silence. With the dingy wood and fluorescent lighting, it felt like a ghost town. It wouldn’t have bothered you on any ordinary day. Except today was your first meeting with the new residents of your dorm as their RA. And it was five minutes to eight and they were nowhere to be found.

You honestly couldn’t understand why anyone hadn’t shown up yet. The bulletin board had been decked out in the colours of your school football team, the Stray Kids, and you’d even promised snacks! In fact, a lot of the people you’d run into in the halls had been excited to come - or maybe they just felt pressured into it by your overeagerness. Now, looking at the different spreads of cookies and brownies you’d baked with the help of your roommate Felix, your heart sinks. Speaking of Felix, where was he?

You’d been looking forward to the start of the school year all summer, so excited to finally embrace this job and your new responsibilities. But even more than that, you were so excited to make a handful of new friends heading into your senior year. Your entire college career had been consumed by studying and getting involved in a million different clubs, and although you hung out with Felix, and a few others, you felt like you’d been lacking in the experiences that made college… well college. And what better way to get access to college experiences than to be left to look after a rowdy group of students?

You hear footsteps thudding down the hallway, and heavy breathing, and all of a sudden, Felix’s freckled face comes into view. You shoot him an angry glare, before softening when you realize he’s not alone. Three other boys walk in after him.

“____, this is Jisung, Jeongin, and Seungmin. They’re down the hall from us.”

“Welcome you guys!” you set aside your anger, putting on your best smile for them. The three of them greet you happily, not even lasting five seconds before descending on the snacks, and you giggle at the way Jisung’s cheeks puff out as he stuffs chocolate chip cookies into his mouth. 

Soon enough, more people shuffle in, until the common room is filled to the brim with residents, and you let out a sigh of relief. Maybe they didn’t hate you after all. Before, long, everyone is settled in, and you waste no time, heart pattering as you launch into an explanation of the rules and expectations for the year.

As expected, a handful of people are nodding off, while others have their eyes glued to their phones. However, Seungmin, Jisung, and Jeongin are hanging off your every word attentively, smiling after every phrase, and despite it being corny, you can’t help but find them endearing. You’d have to make a mental note to visit their room later and get to know them.

While you continue on, not wanting to keep everyone too long, you notice a couple of guys sneak in the back, twenty minutes late, and immediately your smile drops. The blue jerseys tell you immediately that they’re the players from Stray Kids. A few heads turn when they walk in, and suddenly, there’s a hum in the air, the residents thrumming with excitement at the sighting of campus celebrities. Suddenly, all the attention is off you and on them.

Felix shoots you a look of apology, and you huff, watching the meeting go down in flames. You don’t know how many minutes pass before the crowd dies down, people spilling out one by one, until only the four players and Felix are left. 

Putting on your fakest sweet smile, you stomp up to them, ready to give them a piece of your mind, when you bump into a solid chest, strong arms wrapping around you to steady you.

“Whoa there, you good?” A deep voice booms out, and you look up to see Chan, the captain of the team, looking down at you with a smirk.

“I—,” you begin, nostrils flaring in anger, but you’re interrupted once again by Chan.

“Sorry for crashing your little party, practice ran late, you know how it is.”

His eyes are alight with a glimmer as he says it, taking you in.

“I’d appreciate if next time, you could let me know, so I can plan ahead,” you grit out through your teeth, watching another one of the guys, one with arm muscles so huge he could probably rip a tree in half, descend on the cookies you’d laid out.

“That’s Changbin,” Chan chuckles. “And over there is Hyunjin.”

You look to the door, where another tall, lanky player is leaning against the frame, a look of casual disinterest on his face. He gives you a nod, and you scoff under your breath, hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“And this is Minho, our other roommate.”

You freeze on the last introduction, finally taking in the final figure in the room. He’s just as paralyzed as you are, unable to move, lips parted in shock. Feeling like you’ve been struck by lightning, you feel your throat tighten, unable to look up. The ground beneath you feels like it’s about to give way, and you’re suddenly aware that Felix is no longer in the room, mentally cursing him out in your head for leaving you alone right now.

“Hey,” Minho finally manages to get a word out, and your eyes snap up to his, watching the way he shoots an easy smile in your direction.

You hate the way your heart reacts to that smile because you’d promise yourself once already you’d never let it get to you again. All of a sudden, a distinct memory from the summer comes rushing back to you, one you’d tried so hard to bury in the back of your mind. 

Twinkling fairy lights, red solo cups on the table out back, and Usher blasting from the speakers. The one house party you’d snuck out to that summer with your best friend, Ryujin. The one where you’d met him.

Those same lips had smirked at you from across the room, dark and serious eyes inviting you to come over and take a chance. And you had. Lips crashing onto his, Minho’s kisses swallowing your moans. The music from the party gradually fades as he leads you upstairs, the soft click of the door locking behind you before he pushes you onto the bed. The cute outfit you’d chosen to wear that night was discarded carelessly to the side, Minho’s hands tracing circles across your skin, his lips latching desperately onto your neck, sucking blooms across your skin. Minho is on his knees, your legs thrown over his shoulders, eyes completely blown with lust, looking like he wants to devour you. Watching the dim light hit the lean lines of his body as he strips, his soft groan when he pushes into you, digging your heels into his back.

Minho’s low voice when tells you how pretty you sound, how good you are for him before you’re exploding, falling apart at the seams. 

And then, regret. Slipping out before dawn could come around, watching Minho snooze peacefully, unaware that he’d wake up to an empty bed, unaware that thoughts of that night with him would continue to haunt you the entire summer. 

The boys’ boisterous laughter breaks you out of your daze, and you watch Chan and Changbin wave to you before grabbing a handful of snacks and slipping out the door. Hyunjin isn’t far behind, eyeing your shocked face with a curious expression.

Minho lingers for a moment, studying you with the same hypnotic gaze. You’re painfully aware that you haven’t been able to get a single word out, but his stoic face twists into a salacious grin. He trails after his roommates, but not before pausing and shooting you a wink.

“Well damn, this year just got a whole lot more exciting.”

Kim Namjoon was extremely good at his job – or so he thought. As the grad advisor for the resident assistant program at the university, he’d painstakingly read through hundreds of applications, combing through many impressive resumés in search of the best of the best. And he thought he’d found it in you. Which is why the situation he found himself in was completely and utterly baffling to him.

“It’s literally the first week of the school year, and you’re telling me you already want to quit?!”

You fidget in your seat uncomfortably, looking anywhere but directly at Namjoon, knowing that if you caught his gaze, you’d be finished. Over.

“Are those pressed resin flowers?” you gesture over to the wall, hoping you can distract him.

“____.”

“W-well, it’s not exactly like that, it’s just…”

“I fail to understand what could be so horrible about your current group of residents that you’d give up free room and board,” Namjoon quips, before pausing. “I mean — great responsibility as well.”

You want to scream. How were you supposed to tell your boss that the reason you wanted to quit the job you’d worked so hard for is that, in one drunken night, you’d slept with one of your residents and now didn’t have the gall to face him for an entire year?

Your cheeks burn, thinking of Minho’s smirk, the one that had you screaming into your room. In the few days since the meeting, you’d managed to successfully avoid him, and his roommates, making a mad dash for your room straight after class. Oh well, you could always branch out and live your best college life next year. After the football players graduated. 

Namjoon could put you anywhere, even banish you to the hell of a single room in that maybe-haunted residence hall on the edge of campus. The one where there was an alleged ghost wandering around? Yeah, you’d take it. Anywhere away from Lee Minho.

“I chose you for this job for a reason, ___, because I saw great potential in you,” Namjoon continues with a heavy sigh. “I’m confident that whatever you’re anxious about, it’ll resolve itself. Now, you should head out. From the schedule, I saw you have a room meeting scheduled.”

And with that, you’re ushered out of Namjoon’s cosy office, left with more questions than you started with. Huffing as you sling your bag over your shoulders, you make the trek across campus back to the dorm, trying to muster a weak smile for the meeting you had coming up. 

Only for that smile to disappear completely when you check your calendar, seeing exactly who’d signed up for the slot.

Room 103. The football players’ room. Minho’s room. Could your luck be any worse?

Apparently, the answer to that was yes, because just as you lifted your fist to knock, the door opened, leaving you face-to-face with a smirking Minho.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” he drawls, the smirk fading when he sees you look past him at the wall, shuffling your feet. 

“Come in,” his voice softens, stepping aside to let you through. For a moment, he pauses behind you, and you can feel his breath fan the back of your neck.

“Listen, I just wanted to, uh–” he’s interrupted by a loud holler, one that wreaks havoc on your eardrums.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the girl-next-door!” Changbin comes into view, slinging an arm around Minho’s shoulder, before the other man scowls, brushing him off.

“Guys,” Chan’s captain voice has their heads turning, “I know you’ve all got a boner for the pretty RA, but she’s here doing her job.”

You could have sworn you saw Minho go pale.

Changbin snickers, but abides, plopping onto the couch, dragging Minho with him. That made three of them. But where was…

“Hyunjin,” the tall boy appears out of nowhere, his sharp eyes taking in your presence. For a moment, you wonder if he knows about you and Minho, but you shove the ridiculous thought from your brain. They were just guys, and you were just doing business as usual. Nothing to worry about.

“So guys,” you manage to get out. “I’m just here to talk to you about your expectations for each other this year as roommates.”

“Expectations?” Changbin throws up an eyebrow. “Yeah, like some ground rules you want to establish for the room,” you clarify. “As roommates.”

“We’ve been living together for three years at this point,” Hyunjin gives you a pointed stare. “I’m sure we have it down.”

You chew mindlessly at your lower lip, realizing that you aren’t getting anywhere with them. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Minho draped over the side of the couch, one leg dangling off onto the floor.

“Well,” the sudden addition of his voice shocks you, a small smile lighting up his face when catches you looking at him, “We obviously need to follow bro code.”

“Bro code?” You raise an eyebrow. You knew what it was, but that didn’t make you any less confused. 

There’s a sharp ow! followed by Hyunjin shuffling in the corner. Minho is gingerly nursing his arm, his eyes narrowing at his teammate.

“Pretty sure one of the rules of bro code is to never lie to your bros,” Hyunjin quips, casting a glance between you and Minho.

“Not lying! Okay! Okay, we can work with that —,” you straighten up, a grin on your face. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

“Especially not about girls you’ve slept with,” Changbin adds with a smug expression. 

Minho’s face immediately twists into a pained expression, and for a moment, everything is silent. You wonder if this is it, the moment where everything finally blows up in your face and the truth about what went over the summer is revealed.

“I’m so sorry, ____,” Chan gives you an apologetic look, standing up to usher you towards the door. “I’ll have a chat with them, and we’ll draw up a list of rules and send it your way by the end of the week!”

Everything happens so quickly, Chan’s hand on your back, the brief flash of Minho’s concerned eyes looking at you before the door closes, slamming shut.

The rain patters against the window, making the fluorescent lighting of the common look even more bleak and grey than usual. You let out a heavy sigh. The dorm meeting should have been enough of a sign to you that very few people would be interested in the events you held this year. Now, you were alone, surrounded by far too many tubs of ice cream, and Felix was in class. 

Deciding to wallow in your sorrow, you pop open one of the tubs, scraping at the frozen top with a spoon, the sweet ice cream melting on your tongue.

“I told you, Jeongin, she just bought the ice cream to eat herself,” a voice at the door startles you, and you look over to see Seungmin beaming at you through the door. And he’s not alone. Jisung and Jeongin trail in after him, and your heart swells in relief at their presence.

“I thought no one would come.”

“And miss ice cream? Please, they’re either stupid or even more stupid for turning down free food,” Jisung chuckles, sliding up a few chairs next to you.

The three boys settle in, wasting no time digging into the ice cream, happily chatting about their days to you. Something about their presence makes the unbelievably rainy weather seem not so bad. You learn that Jisung and Seungmin are in the year below you, studying math together, and Jeongin, the poor freshman, was their random roommate.

“You guys are worse than the football players,” you chuckle when they explain their tactics of how they get Jeongin to run errands for them across campus.

“I think it’s cool how we have the players living here with us!” Jeongin’s eyes shine with excitement. “Do you think they’ll invite us to one of their parties?”

“We’re losers, Jeongin, in case you haven’t noticed,” Seungmin jokes, but his face is strained. 

“That’s not true, you’re currently my favourite people in the dorm,” you respond, watching Seungmin relax, and Jisung’s cheeks flush. “And those parties are lame anyway.”

So lame. Lame enough for you to sleep with one of those aforementioned players. 

You think back to the summer, memories flooding you. In your defense, you hadn’t even known Minho was a player. It was just a random party, full of random people neither you or Ryujin had known. And he’d been there, leaning against the wall, taking it all in quietly.

If you’d had any idea Lee Minho was one of those ever-loving frat boys on the football team, you might not have given him a second look. But then he’d smiled at you - a small one, soft but also teasing, and that was all it had taken for you to drift over, Ryujin smirking behind you.

The conversation flowed as easily as the drinks went down, the two of you managing to talk about nothing yet somehow also everything at once.

“You see,” Minho’s low voice rumbled in your ear, leaning in closer. You can smell the warm spice of his cologne, and it makes you even dizzier than the beer in your hand. “Those two definitely look like they’ve got some shit to sort through.”

“They’ll ignore it though,” you counter, watching Minho’s eyebrows raise. “Probably go upstairs and fuck instead.”

Minho’s jaw hangs open, and it takes a moment to process what you’d just said out loud – and how much of your own intrusive thoughts were contained within the simple statement. Looking over, his eyes have gone impossibly dark, their sole focus on you.

“Maybe we should follow them? Just to confirm.”

Those same dark eyes are now filled with a flicker, one that matches the flames building inside your chest.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the door to the common room swinging open, bringing you face to face with a flustered and panting Minho. His hair is windswept, and there’s a deep flush on the back of his neck. Raindrops plop, plop, plop onto the carpet as they drip from his clothes.

“Did I miss it? I came as quick as I could after class.”

His voice is hoarse and gravelly like he’s struggling to catch his breath after running for too long. 

“Miss what..?” You feel like the air has been knocked out of your lungs at his sudden appearance, completely missing the way Jisung, Seungmin, and Jeongin begin to shuffle behind you, whispering amongst themselves.

“You were hosting something? I tried to convince the other guys to come along.”

Your chest tightens at his admission. He paid attention to those egregiously long newsletters you spent hours making and mailing out to the floor? It makes you feel dizzy inside, a thousand tiny butterflies fluttering inside your chest. 

“Uhm, yeah of course! Help yourself, you know I just remembered I have something like really, really important to take care of for one of my classes,” the words tumble out in a rush, your cheeks burning at lie, but you honestly weren’t expecting to come face to face with Minho so many times in a matter days. 

“Hey Jisung, do you mind cleaning up after you guys are done? Please.” You shoot the other boy a desperate look, and his eyes go round, looking in between you and Minho, who remains at the threshold. He gives you a subtle nod, and you take it as your chance to escape, hastily slinging your bag over your shoulder. 

You feel Minho’s eyes on you while you brush past him and out the door, wondering why you’re the one shivering when he’d been caught in the rain.

. . . 

“Jisung, is it?” Minho sees the boy jump at the sound of his voice, his chair nearly toppling over from the shock. He looks in between a flustered Jisung, to the other two guys, who are equally surprised, their mouths hanging open.

It’s times like these where Minho remembers he’s not just any normal guy. Being a player for the Stray Kids came with its own headaches. He’d never gotten used to the stares. Or people becoming tongue-tied around him.

But you hadn’t been like that, he recalls. Talking to you had been easier than making a catch, the way your eyes lit up underneath the dim lights of the party and how your bubbly laugh remained burned in his memory for the entire summer. 

Minho wants to laugh at the thought of him hung up over some girl he’d fucked one time, but nothing could have matched the cold feeling that washed over him the moment he’d woken up to find you gone, the bed empty. And he found himself actually missing it - not the sex, but everything else. The laughing, the people watching, the inside jokes. 

Damn it, he was turning soft for you.

He stalks over to Jisung and his friends, plopping into the chair across of them. The three of them remain frozen in place, stiff as a board, and Minho lets out a loud groan.

“What do you want?” He raises an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at his lips when he sees the taller one cross his arms over his chest in an attempt to look intimidating.

“What do you mean?” 

“Do you want like, tickets to the game, fake IDs, weed? I can hook you up.”

“F-frat parties,” the younger one elbows him, voice barely above a whisper. “Tell him we want in on the parties.”

“The bigger question is, what do you want? I mean, why are you even talking to us?” “Can’t a dude just be nice to other dudes?” Minho grins, but the tall one is unwavering. He looks over to the one whose name he actually knew, Jisung, and judging by the way his eyes are still wide as saucers, and the manga he’s clutching to his chest, Minho knows he’s found a target who’ll fold.

“Is that Spy x Family? I love that one.”

“Y-you do?” 

“Yeah, I actually have all the volumes in my room? You could always come by if you wanted to borrow one.”

“I could?”

“Hmmm, only if I get to ask for your help with something.” “Anything!” the youngest one pipes up again, choking when the tall one hits him in the back. “We’ll do anything.”

And suddenly, Minho sees his in – these three dorks. Who despite knowing you for even less time than he has, have somehow managed to win over your heart. And he’d be next. 

“Well, let’s start with introductions first of all…”

The 8am walk to your psychology class was one of your favourite parts of your schedule this semester. Campus was just waking up, birds were chirping, and you had time off to just think before getting swallowed by a sea of schoolwork and RA responsibilities. Except lately, your thoughts had been running wild - Minho in every corner, his tired, rain-soaked figure the other day making him look like a wet cat. A very cute wet cat.

You didn’t want to go down the rabbit hole of what it meant for him to show up like that – you didn’t want it to mean anything at all. The simple fact was that guys like Minho, and the rest of his teammates, barely ever gave a damn about anything that wasn’t pratice or their loud ragers. But he’d actually made an effort. 

Namjoon will be so happy I’m getting the team involved in dorm life, you stupidly rationalize the warm, fizzy feeling in your chest. I’ll have something to be proud of.

Trudging up the hill that takes you from the dorms to the heart of campus, you look through the cover of trees, the faint rays of sun peeking through them. In the crisp morning air, they look beautiful, and you sigh happily to yourself. You could romanticize this morning walk, even if your actual romantic life was in shambles.

You close your eyes for a bit, having committed the path to memory, and walk, walk, walk until suddenly — you’re colliding into a hard object, falling backwards through space. Before you can feel the impact of the ground, an arm is reaching out to steady you. A lean, muscular arm, filled with veins. Looking up through the sunlight, you see Minho’s face looking down at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a soft smile on his lips. “Why were you walking with your eyes closed?”

“Crap, you weren’t supposed to see that,” you turn away in shame. Were you going to be doomed to a whole school year of embarrassing yourself in front of him? 

“Hey, I’m not judging,” he holds up his phone, and you can’t help but laugh. A cat video is playing on the screen. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Thanks for catching me.”

“It’s kind of what I do,” he chuckles, another reminder of who he is. And who you are.

“Oh yeah.”

You don’t remember when you started moving again, but somehow, he’s right alongside you, facing backwards yet still matching you stride for stride. Looking around, you breathe in relief when you spot no one else around – being seen with Minho would definitely have people talking, and you weren’t sure if you could handle that right now.

“Can we talk about what happened over the summer?”

Minho’s voice is tinged with something you can’t pinpoint, taking on a weird sort of lilt. Could he possibly be nervous? Then again, what reason would he have to be nervous? He wasn’t the one with an entire reputation on the line right now.

“There isn’t that much to say, Minho. It shouldn’t have happened. I should have known better.”

Minho narrows his eyes at your statement, clearly taken aback.

“Oh my god, please don’t tell me you feel guilty because we live on the same floor now. There’s no way you could have known! I’m not holding it against you. Let me make it up to you – maybe we can have another shot, hopefully more sober this time.”

In your head, you know he’s right, and that you’re being completely irrational. But wouldn’t starting something now also be irrational, and falling into that very same trap you’d worked so hard to avoid.

“Look Minho, I’m really grateful that you forgive me. I know it was an asshole move, just disappearing like that. But whatever this is, I can’t do it right now. I promise if we run into each other I’m not gonna sprint off in the other direction, but I can’t date you. I can’t date anyone right now.”

You watch the way his shoulders completely deflate, rustling his backpack over his shoulder. More and more students have begun to slip out of their dorms, joining you on the main campus quad, and you know the conversation is over. For now. 

“Hey,” you whisper softly, watching Minho jump slightly at the sound of your voice. “Isn’t your econ class the other way?”

“Nah,” Minho stutters, and you watch his cheeks tinge red. “I dropped it. I’m taking a new one - fermentation sciences.”

“Fermentation sciences?”

“Yeah, you know in this economy, I wanted to learn how to brew my own alcohol,” he looks wistfully over at the science building. “I should probably get going.”

You watch him retreat wondering why you felt such a crushing wave of sadness when you’d been the one to shut it down in the first place.

. . .

Fuck! He was late. Minho knew he should have spent more time on cardio this summer, his heart pounding in his chest as he ran the other way across campus to the business building.

While part of him was relieved by your assurance that you harboured no bad feelings toward him after everything that him, another part of him was deeply unsettled. For some reason, he couldn’t let it end like this, the two of you just being people who resorted to acknowledging each other with a wave across campus.

The thought bothers Minho all through his econ class, and through football practice, Changbin’s obnoxious chuckle echoing in his ear.

“Fermentation Sciences? Really, dude?”

“Stop laughing, punk,” Minho grumbles. “It’s not like you could have come up with anything better.”

For all they knew, Minho was shamelessly flirting with the girl next door, and failing miserably. They didn’t know any of the history between you two - and Minho wanted to keep it that way, or else he’d never hear the end of it from his roommates.

Changbin grunts, his pass landing a little harder than usual. Minho makes the catch, the air wooshing out of his lungs.

“Lino,” Chan’s stern captain voice echoes from behind him. “It’s our final year. Are you really sure you won’t get distracted by this? It’s our final year.”

Minho sighs. He knew that this final season hinged on him having his head on straight - if not for his sake, for his teammates’. While he and Hyunjin had jobs waiting for them after graduation, Chan and Changbin were trying to make a career out of football. 

“Yeah dude, it’s nothing I promise.”

Defeat sinks into his bones, realizing that maybe you were right. Perhaps there wasn’t time to be distracted by anything, or anyone this year. Yet, as he strips off his jersey and slumps onto the players’ bench, he mellows in the one part of your statement that had given him a fraction of hope.

You hadn’t said “never”, just “not right now.”

“Remind me why we’re here again?” Hyunjin groans, chewing the tip of his pen. In the corner, a group of students fall into hushed whispers at the sight of Stray Kids’ running back and tight end, hunched over pieces of paper. 

“Stop acting like you didn’t take an entire class on 18th century poetry last year and help me figure out what rhymes with perfect,” Minho shoves the end of the pen into his arm.

“Imperfect,” Hyunjin counters. “What the hell are you doing anyway? I thought we were supposed to be colouring for stress relief.”

“None of your goddamn business, Hwang,” Minho shuffles his paper towards himself, scribbling down the word, only to cross it out ten seconds later.

“Are you, are you writing a poem?” Hyunjin’s eyes go wide at the various words scribbled on Minho’s sheet. Beautiful, delicate, exquisite, perfect. A faint smirk tugs at his lips. 

Minho himself never thought he’d see the day where he put pen to paper in hopes of wooing someone, but it seems life had other plans. Because ever since you’d basically told him there was no chance of anything happening between you, it had made him unable to keep thoughts of you out of his mind.

He wondered sometimes if he was chasing his own ego, going after you just because you weren’t interested in him. But as he dwells on it more, he couldn’t remember the last time he was this determined to win someone over. 

“I have questions, many of them,” Hyunjin starts. “But I’ll start with one? Is this about–”

He flicks his head towards the front of the room, where you’re hard at work on your own drawing. Your sweater looks beyond soft and cosy, bringing out the colour of your eyes, and Minho feels a weird pang inside his chest when he hears you giggle; Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin right next to you.

Those fucking punks. They were supposed to be helping him, and instead they were crowding around you? He’d probably have to cave and finally entice Jeongin with an exclusive invite to a frat party if he ever wanted things to work in his favour. 

“God, I having to fucking text Changbin about this,” Hyunjin drawls, only to yelp when his phone is swiped out of his hands.

“Send that text and you’ll wish I never looked in your direction, Hwang.”

“My question is when?” Hyunjin looks between you and Minho, lines of confusion marring his face, until realization dawns on him.

“Holy fuck? She’s the one? From this summer? I knew it!”

Minho feels like sinking into his chair and rueing the day he ever ran into Hyunjin on the way to try-outs, but he musters a weak nod.

“___? RA ____?”

“Will you quit asking questions?” Minho continues to scribble, growing frustrated when his pen begins to run out of ink, the four pages of ideas he’d come up with staring him dead in the face.

“Well you’re never gonna win her over if you keep comparing her lips to cherry cough medicine.”

“What would you suggest dumbass?”

“Maybe fucking cherries instead?” Hyunjin grabs the paper from him, shaking his head in exasperation. “Next time you want to pull this shit for a girl, please come to me first.”

“Hoping there won’t be a next time,” Minho looks over at you with a heavy sigh, watching the way Seungmin leans in close to point out something on his page to you.

“Just you watch and wait,” Hyunjin grabs the pen from him, and gets to work.

. . .

“Let me know if you’ll think about it,” Seungmin waves to you from across the room, clearing out with Jisung and Jeongin in tow, and you happily go back to colouring the bunny you’d started. Funny enough, the stress of the last few weeks had melted away, you and Felix easing back into your routine of daily dinners together in the dining hall. Along with new friends - the three younger boys inviting you over to their dorm for movies and video games.

A cough interrupts your thoughts, and you look up to see Minho stop in front of your table, awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Guilt fills your chest when you realize you hadn’t even said hi to him, despite knowing he’d come with Hyunjin in tow the moment the previously quiet room had erupted into a faint din. 

“Hey,” you smile up at him, hoping it’ll put him (and you) at ease. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“No problem, uh, thanks for hosting,” Minho scratches the back of his neck, and you notice the piece of paper crumpled into his other fist.

“Did you have fun?”

“Fun? Oh yeah! It was super fun! I felt really calm,” the words spill out of Minho’s mouth awkwardly, and he’s begun to bounce on the soles of his feet.

“Are you sure it was calming? You can give me honest feedback you know. I won’t be offended.”

“Oh yeah, you know, I actually just remembered I have to go, but I wrote something down on this paper and it’s for you!” Minho launches the piece of paper at your desk before scurrying out of the room. Craning your neck, you see him run to Hyunjin in the hall, who claps him on the back.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you unfurl the paper, eyes widening when you see the exact “feedback” Minho had left. 

It takes everything within you not to laugh - the rhyme scheme is completely off, there are random flowery words that definitely look like they were pulled from the dictionary app, and the poem cuts off abruptly with a scribble. Yet somehow your heart is warm at the thought that Minho had sat there for an hour putting this together. For you.

Perhaps you’d underestimated Lee Minho after all.

“I wonder whose idea it was to load a bunch of college-age kids dressed in stiff-ass clothes onto a bus that’s going who knows where, and to not even have alcohol to compensate” you mutter, smoothing over the skirt of your dress, the chilly winter air sending goosebumps down our spine.

“Don’t let the feds hear you say that, miss RA, but to answer your question, probably some prick at Oxford or something,” Seungmin appears by your side, offering up his jacket. You politely decline, grateful that he offered but also that he doesn’t press. Accepting his jacket would be too much of a romantic gesture for… whatever this was. 

“Just two friends hanging out,” Seungmin had reassured you when he’d asked you the other week… the same week you’d received the poem from Minho. The same one that has your heart doing backflips when you even think about it. The same one that’s currently smushed between the pages of your planner, bringing a smile to your face every time you open it.

You shake your head… trying to dispel thoughts of Minho from your mind. Seugmin was your date tonight. He deserved to have your attention. You deserved to not turn it into a miserable time for both of you because you couldn’t sort out anything in your life.

The bus ride helps take your mind off him, Seungmin happily chattering to you about how his year is going so far, and you stave off the chill all the way until the two of you get inside.

Unfortunately, that’s where it all goes downhill. Because the music is too loud, and there are too many bodies crowded on the floor, and you remember that going as dates involves, well actually acting like dates.

A few of Seungmin’s friends from the photography club find him in no time, suddenly swooping the two of you into the middle of the floor, and you’re led down a well-meaning, but incessant line of questioning. Seungmin shoots you an apologetic smile, happy to take the brunt of it for most of you, but it leaves an uncomfortable feeling in your chest nonetheless. Seungmin doesn’t say anything when you drift away quietly, leaving him with his buddies, and find yourself flitting at the fringe of the crowd. An eerie feeling crosses you, one that reminds you of the last time you were in this situation. Only this time the outcome wouldn’t be the same, because Minho wasn’t here. 

Mere months ago, you would have been fawning over the experience of finally attending a formal with a date, feeling like you were coming closer and closer to making the memories you craved. But you realized now that those had been empty hopes. Because memories weren’t about the experiences, but the people you shared them with. And you couldn’t deny what you and Minho had shared.

You don’t even realize you’ve stumbled outside until you’re plopping down onto a bench, hugging your knees to your chest, while fresh tears coat your eyelashes. A soft pair of footsteps echo behind you, and you turn to see Seungmin next to you, taking a seat.

“Y-you should go back inside,” you stutter, even more guilt settling in. “I’m sorry for being such an asshole and ruining your night.”

“Hey, you’re not an asshole. And I meant what I said, I didn’t expect anything from you, just two friends hanging out. But now you’re crying.”

Silence falls between you, and you think about how lucky you are to have a friend like Suengmin. Him, and Felix, and Jisung, and Jeongin. How much they care for you.

“You know,” Seungmin interrupts. “He’s not a bad guy. Lee.”

You whip your head around at Seungmin, not expecting him, of all people, to bring up Minho at a time like this. How did he even know him?

“Oh shush,” Seungmin sees the perplexed look on your face. “He comes over sometimes to watch anime. He’s pretty cool. He even said Jeongin might have a shot at trying out for the team next year.”

“What is my life?” you groan out loud. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’re doing too much, trying to fight whatever it is you feel. Maybe he could be worth it. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“I think what I need to do is catch the early bus back to campus,” you grumble, before softening. “You’ll be okay without me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine, don’t miss me too much,” Seungmin grins. “Just sleep on it.”

“In your dreams, Kim.”

You’re bounding off the bus faster than the driver can open the door, silently cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket, or at least stealing Seungmin’s. The straps of the way-too-high heels you’d chosen dig into your feet, sure to blister and leave you groaning the next morning, but to be fair, the headache had started long before you’d left your dorm room tonight.

It had started the moment Lee Minho had strolled through the door at that very first meeting, and secured a permanent spot dwelling inside there. And now he was befriending everyone you were friends with? You shiver at the potential implications of what Seungmin had revealed at the formal, surprised to find feelings lingering other than sheer annoyance. 

The wind nipping at your heels, you set off down the campus path, empty save for a few poor souls leaving the library after a study session, until you’re at the campus green, the large fountain that lights up the way to your dorm in plain sight. You feel relief overtake you at the sight, grateful that you could soon unwind and collapse onto your bed, given you had thinking to do. Lots of thinking. 

You’re almost across, the gurgling of the fountain audible in the distance, when a shadow emerges from the path to your right. A lone, slim figure in a blue letterman jacket, a large “S” emblazoned on the front. You think nothing of it until you see the accompanying “25 Lee” on the back, and suddenly you freeze. Only he does too, at the exact same time. 

You wonder if it’s too late to duck behind a bush, hiding under the cover of darkness, until you remember that near the fountain is the most well-lit area within a few hundred yards, the rest of the winding path completely blacked out. And Minho is already walking in your direction, even though you both know the way to the dorm is behind him.

He’s clad in sweatpants, his hair damp with sweat, and you wonder why he’s not freezing at this hour. But he’s probably looking at you and wondering the same thing.

“___, hey,” he shouts out, the grin onn his face growing when he actually looks at you, his jaw hanging open. “Wow, uh, you look good. Fancy event?”

“Oh yeah a date. I mean a formal. I mean I went to a formal. As a date. With Seungmin.”

Immediately, the grin fades, and Minho’s eyes grow impossibly dark. There’s a strange fluttering in your chest, and you’re overcome with the urge to clarify that it wasn’t a real date, that it didn’t mean anything, but nothing comes out, your throat impossibly dry. 

“Oh yeah, he mentioned something about that.”

“Yeah. I guess even RAs need to let loose once in a bit.”

“Did you? Let loose?” Minho raises an eyebrow, and you know that he knows that it’s too early to be wandering around campus, given most buses don’t come back until after midnight. 

“You caught me.”

“I told you, I’m good at that.”

Minho gestures to a bench, right in front of the fountain. You know you should say no, that you should run to the safety of your dorm. Because somehow, when you’re around Minho, the control you have comes crashing down. You feel reckless and effervescent, and you wonder if being drunk when you met him was to blame. 

When you take the seat next to him, you watch him smirk, and that’s when you realize the bench he’d picked out was the tiniest one, meaning you had no choice but to be pressed up right against him, feeling the warmth that emanates from him. You shiver again, hoping the cold can cover for you. 

“You cold?” Minho’s voice is a low rumble, moving to slip his jacket off his shoulders

“No, no I’m fine—”

He’s throwing it around your shoulders before you can finish protesting, his warm sandalwood and cedar fragrance enveloping you, and you burrow into it. Beside you, you can feel Minho’s faint breath fan against your neck, and you flush, turning away to look above you.

“It’s pretty out tonight, isn’t it?” You point above you. “You can see the stars.”

“Yeah, it is,” Minho’s voice is a heavy sigh, and you turn to find he’s not looking above at all. His dark eyes bore right into yours, a whole universe of emotion trapped within their depths, and you feel the fluttering in your chest begin again. 

His warm hand skims softly against your cheek, and you stop it with your own, pulling him away.

“Minho… what’s happening? What is this? Because if this is some kind of ego trip, or some sick joke with your teammates…”

“Can’t you see, damn it?” Minho’s expression turns dark, shadows dancing on his face. “I like you, ___. Ever since you walked out of that room this summer, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I keep running it over and over in my head, wondering what I could have done to fuck this up so badly, and how I can make it up to you every day.”

His voice is full of desperation, and you feel tears well up in your eyes at the sheer emotion captured in his rasp.

“Why?” Your voice is barely audible. “Why me?”

“I know we barely know each other, but everything I see about you, I like. The way you laugh, the quirky sweaters you wear, the way you take care of others. And everything I don’t know, I want to learn.”

Your head spins at his confession, at his earnestness, but while your heart is screaming at you to give in, your head can’t take the leap, holding you back from tumbling over the edge.

“Minho, I can’t. My job—” you watch the way his shoulders sag, knowing that you’re right. “I don’t want you to keep waiting for something that I may never be able to give you.”

“Friends then?” He squares his shoulders, his voice shaky, and you turn away, not wanting him to see the tears beginning to form in your eyes.

“Okay,” your voice is just as wobbly. Maybe it was better this way, knowing the distance would inevitably form when it was Minho’s turn to graduate next semester. This way things wouldn’t end badly - they’d just end when it was time.

“Well,” Minho stands up, offering you an arm. “As your friend, I can’t let you end what was supposed to be a fun night on a shitty note.”

He grabs your arms, slipping them into the jacket, before his hand is slipping in yours, the two of you walking up to the fountain. You know friends don’t hold hands, but you say nothing, the two of you staring at the clear water, coins glinting in its depths. 

“Make a wish,” he whispers. You look up, just in time to see a star shoot across the night sky, and close your eyes, wishing for everything to work itself out.

“And now we jump.”

“We what?!—” you whip your head around, but it’s too late, Minho is pulling you into the fountain with him, the cold water chilling you to the bone. Shivering, you stand up, cheeks burning and your soaked dress clinging to your body, watching Minho shake his wet hair from his eyes.

“You. Are. Crazy,” you huff out, laughter bubbling in your throat, and his eyes are twinkling, before he joins in, the two of you laughing until you’re wheezing. 

“You like it though,” he steps closer, his eyes raking over your body, heavy-lidded with desire. He leans over, almost in slow motion, your heart beating so wildly you almost forget how to breathe. You feel his lips ghost against yours, and for a moment everything is impossibly still—until laughter breaks through the silence, the voices of other students chattering behind you. 

Minho is pulling away, his eyes flickering towards the voices, and you hadn’t realized you were clutching his wet shirt. You peel your soaked bodies away from one another, Minho offering you his hand to help you out of the fountain, when all of a sudden the voices soften, indicating that the students were heading in the other direction. 

The walk back to the dorms is full of silence, both you and Minho trying to wrap your heads around what had happened in the fountain. It isn’t until he walks you to your door, the tormented look in his dark eyes the last thing you see before it closes behind you, that you realize you’d forgotten to give him back his jacket. 

“Morning Lino,” Hyunjin pads out of his and Minho’s shared room, rubbing at his eyes. Minho grunts in response, turning his attention back to the eggs at the stove.

“You know some kid named Yang?” Hyunjin asks through a mouthful of cereal. “Came up to me the other day and said he couldn’t wait to sit in on our practice.”

Minho recalls his conversation with the eager freshman, who was bouncing up and down at the thought of being considered for the football team next year. Of course, what Jeongin didn’t know was that his happiness wasn’t even the cherry on top. It was seeing the dazzling smile on your face when the kid ran up to you to tell you all about it.

You’d looked over, seeing Minho lingering at the end of the hallway, and raised an eyebrow, to which he’d nodded, before promptly disappearing. This whole friendship thing was harder than he’d counted on. But he’d try his damn best. 

…

An hour later, he’s watching Jeongin run lines with Changbin, pausing every few minutes to work on some throws. A small smile forms on his face - Jeongin was a nice kid. And he would have never met him if it wasn’t for you. Minho thinks back to how different life would have been if he hadn’t run into you this summer. 

Even though he can’t put his finger on it, Minho feels like something’s changed. Before you, he’d never cared enough about anything to want to make an effort. Football was just something he did, relationships were something he never bothered with. Class was just class. But after meeting you, Minho wanted to be someone who was enough. Someone you could be proud of — to call a friend and maybe something more one day.

He feels the bench thud next to him, Hyunjin plopping down beside him. Hyunjin looks back and forth between him and Jeongin, realization glimmering in his eyes.

“He’s friends with her, right? Jeongin. That’s why you gave him a chance. You’re so fucking whipped.”

“If you’re gonna try to lecture me right now, please don’t,” Minho grumbles, knowing that behind Hyunjin’s sarcasm, he’s always willing to chew someone out when they’re doing something stupid. Like Minho is doing right now with you.

“That’s Chan’s job, not mine. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“It’s weird,” Minho blurts out, his own words surprising him. He thought he would have dropped the subject. 

But he finds himself opening up about you, the way he doesn’t know why, but you just make him feel, and how he doesn’t know what to do about it. The way you hold yourself back, and he doesn’t know how to move forward, because he’d be an asshole for overstepping the boundaries you’ve so abundantly made clear. How something with you was better than nothing at all.

And Hyunjin listens, gratefully, but Minho sees how his eyes dart over to Chan and Changbin and Jeongin. The season was still young. If he wasn’t careful, things could implode, not just for the team, but for you. 

He would have to find a way to figure this out. Or else, he could lose you for good.

You hadn’t meant for it all to come spilling out. One minute, you and Minho were cool, agreeing to be friends. The next, his mouth was nearly on yours, and you were confused.

And now, you’re telling everything to Felix in the middle of breakfast. It might be the lack of coffee, or the fact that he’s just naturally baby-faced but Felix is wide-eyed, unable to keep his mouth from hanging open as you recall everything, from summer to now. 

When you’re finished, he crosses his arms, his eyebrows furrowing and your stomach drops. Well. You’d managed to make your roommate, also known as one of the nicest people in the world, upset with you.

“Listen, Lix, it’s not as bad as it seems,” you try to reassure him. “We’re cool now.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Felix whines. “Does our friendship mean nothing to you?”

You feel guilty. You knew Felix was one of the first people who should have known. But honestly, you’d just bottled it up. Even Ryujin didn’t know much beyond you disappearing upstairs with Minho. You feared that the more you talked about it, the more real it would seem. Whatever it was, this thing that you and Minho had. 

“I never asked to hook up with a football player Felix,” you groan, taking care to keep your voice down. “I never asked for him to be my neighbour, let alone my actual responsibility. But that’s just what it comes down to. Responsibility. I have a job to do, and being involved with Minho goes against everything that it stands for.”

“___, you’re human too,” Felix offers you the cookie from his plate, and you accept it, chomping down. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

“I just thought this year would be different. I thought I’d have everything figured out, and that whatever I experienced would be fun. But now I’m just stuck with this. A mess.”

Felix’s jaw tenses, like he’s lost deep in thought. 

“Do you regret it?” Panic lights your eyes at his question. Because it was one you’d never considered. You’d spent so long trying to push Minho away, creating false distance in between you two, when the reality was, it’d never existed in the first place.

All you wanted was to be closer to him. You wanted to learn the same things about him that he wanted to learn about you. You wanted to know what it actually would feel like if he kissed you in front of the fountain.

“No” you manage to breathe out with a sigh. “I don’t. But it still doesn’t change anything.”

“It could,” Felix counters.

Head spinning, you find your appetite has disappeared. You watch Felix look at you with concern as you bid him a half-hearted bye, telling him you’ll see him later. 

Maybe you couldn’t lie to yourself about Minho anymore. But you couldn’t do anything about the truth except live with it. 

You thought Namjoon believed in you enough to not stick you on RA duty during your birthday, but apparently not. So, you’d guiltily waved goodbye to Felix, telling him to go celebrate in your honour, and you’re curled up on the couch, notebook in hand, trying to review your reading for the week. 

A few hours pass, in which you change the way you’re sitting numerous times, get up to take a water break at least every seven minutes, and are finally situated and focused enough to accomplish, but then the thumping starts. 

At first you’re confused. Was someone working out? Did someone set up a bowling alley? Both of those explanations seemed more plausible until you actually listened for the source of the noise. It was coming from right next to you. 

Room 103.

You groan. Of course they’d be having a party. The semester was new, and what else did football players do on a Saturday night? 

Unfortunately, that also meant it was on you to stop it. And deal with the aftermath of ruining the night of a bunch of salty students. You breathe a heavy sigh, running through countless scenarios in your head to avoid going over. You could just keep studying, maybe bake a batch of brownies. But each one of those scenarios is ruined by none other than Kim Namjoon. His voice drones on in the back of your mind, waxing poetic about how with great power comes great responsibility. The man needed to stop rewatching so many Spider-Man movies. 

Throwing your notebook to the side, you throw on a cardigan, shuffling over to Minho’s apartment. The cacophonous bass reverberates even from outside, and you give a timid knock, unsure if anyone will be able to hear you. 

It takes a few moments, but eventually, the door swings open, the gleeful eyes of Seo Changbin taking in your presence at the door.

“I, uhm, I’m here to uh,” you barely get a sentence out before you’re being swept inside, Changbin’s bellowing laugh echoing behind you. “Look who joined us!” Changbin shouts, and a few heads turn to look in your direction. You catch a couple of questioning looks, one of the being Hyunjin, but for the most part, your presence is ignored.

“Any chance we can get you up on one of the tables?” Changbin offers you a drink, gesturing to the living room. You shake your head, backing up against wall of the entryway.

“Listen, I can’t stay, I just came to –”

“___? What are you doing here?” A voice sounds from behind you, and you turn to see Minho looking at you, shock on his face. 

You gulp. You’d hoped you wouldn’t have to run into him tonight, that it would be a quick in and out. Once the party was shut down, everyone would go home in a sour mood, maybe Minho would hate you for it, and you’d be able to get over your feelings for him in peace.

“Leave her alone, Bin,” Minho chastises his roommate, who’s still trying to goad you for a drink. And then he grabs you by the hand, pulling you further into the lion's den.

The first thing you notice is the sheer heat. Not only are there dozens of bodies crowded up against each other, but it’s Minho himself. He maneuvers you through the crowd, keeping you close to him, and it makes you dizzy. Through the stench of beer and sweat, his cologne peeks through, spiking your body temperature even more.

You don’t know where Minho is leading you, but eventually you two end up near the end of the hallway, bypassing many loud conversations and couples making out, until you stumble upon a series of closed doors. Your face burns when you realize it’s their rooms.

“I need to go,” you say quickly, turning on your heel. “I shouldn’t even be here, this shouldn’t be happening.”

“Hey,” Minho rests a hand on your shoulder. “I just wanted to bring you somewhere quieter, where you wouldn’t be overwhelmed.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, heart soaring at the touching gesture. “Still, I should…”

“Can’t you stay for a bit?” Minho begs, his sparkling eyes meeting yours, and you’re unable to do anything but nod yes.

“Lee! How you doing man?” a voice bellows from far away, and you notice Mingyu, one of the forwards on the soccer team, walk up and high-five Minho, slapping him on the back. “Who’s your friend?”

Mingyu’s eyes do a once over, eyebrows furrowing at your sweatpants and cardigan, before looking quizically at Minho. 

Minho draws a hand around your waist, coming to rest protectively on your hip. His palm burns through the thin fabric where your tank top ends, keeping you tight to his body.

“This is ___. If you don’t mind, we’re kind of busy.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes, smirking as he disappears in the crowd. That’s when you notice Minho’s leaning back against one of the door frames, his hand resting on the door knob.

“Wanna talk in my room?” he asks softly. And it doesn’t sound sleazy or gross. It sounds earnest. Despite the party raging around him, he hasn’t left your side since you showed up, as if he could feel the anxiety coursing through you. As if he’s telling you he’s got you.

“Or I could walk back with you to your room. Whatever you want.”

“W-we can talk,” you say nervously, fisting the side of your cardigan. Somehow, the idea of returning to your notebook seems wholly unappealing. “Just for a bit.”

“Okay,” he opens the door, leading you in.

. . .

The first thing you notice about the room is that it’s surprisingly clean. For a guy’s room anyway. There are a few stray articles of clothing strewn on the chair, but there’s also a neat stack of books, and a bunch of photo frames on Minho’s desk. One in particular catches your eye.

You pick it up, a smile breaking out onto your face at the photo of Minho, star running back, crouched up to three tiny cats.

“Soonie, Doongi, and Dori,” Minho’s voice echoes behind you. “I adopted them when I was in middle school.”

“I didn’t take you for a cat person,” you giggle.

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” Minho takes the frame from you, setting it back in place. His voice sounds distant, like he’s thinking too hard.

“Tell me about yourself,” you blurt out without thinking, watching Minho’s eyes widen in surprise. You realize that you barely knew anything about him, while he’d worked so hard to know you, and his words from the night of the formal echoed in your brain. 

Everything I see about you, I like. And everything I don’t know, I want to learn.

You learn that Minho lives twenty minutes away, something you hadn’t expected. And that he goes home to visit his parents every other weekend, checking up on his cats. You learn football is just something he plays for fun – he’s not super serious about it like Chan or Changbin, but he stayed on the team because they’re his friends. You learn he likes fishing, but also pulling pranks on people. He’d nearly convinced Jisung that they cancelled Spy x Family the other week, and the poor boy had believed him before Minho had to chase him down with a bag of chocolate covered pretzels from the campus cafe and apologize. You learn that Lee Minho is so much more than you ever thought he could be, and that you feel more for him than you could have ever imagined, the realization giving you goosebumps.

“Hey,” Minho pokes you in the ribs. “You zoned out. Everything okay?”

No, everything was not okay. You wondered if he noticed how you’ve gone completely still next to him, your breathing shallow. Minho’s eyes have darkened, filled with an emotion you can’t possibly name, but something you want to believe in. And for once, you want to lose control, and fall off the edge together.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, heavy gaze dropping to his lips. Minho freezes, but doesn’t back away.

“Fuck,” he huffs, heavy breaths filling the space between you. “You sure?”

“Please,” you groan, closing the distance so your lips ghost over his. Minho finally snaps, bringing his mouth to yours, groaning against your lips. You bite back a moan as he nips your bottom lip. The sound stirs him, and with a hard squeeze to your thigh, he’s backing you onto the bed below him. Heart pounding, the look in his eyes is dangerous, sending chills down your spine.

“Let me make you feel good,” he breathes against your forehead. 

You’re unable to do anything but whine in response, watching as he pushes your tank top up to undo the ties on your sweatpants, fingers digging into your hips while he pulls the fabric down, taking your underwear with it. His mouth peppers rough kisses down your throat and into your cleavage, leaving splotches of crimson and violet as he grazes his teeth in every spot his lips meet. 

“Tell me you want this,” he asks, eyes searching yours. 

“Yes,” you groan, head swimming. “I want this, want to feel you, please-”

Your pleas are cut off swiftly as he slips two fingers inside of you, dragging them against your walls with a low sigh.

“Fucking hell, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?” 

“Only for you,” you whine, completely lost to what is coming out of your mouth.

“You’re so beautiful, fuck, been thinking about this for so long,” Minho hisses when you gush around him, arousal dripping down his wrist.

You feel yourself flutter at his words, throwing your head back while reaching over to swipe your fingers through his sweaty hair. You tug at the back of his shirt, and he pulls it over his head, his shaking hands slipping the cardigan off your shoulders and tugging the straps of your tank top.

Looming over you, he engulfs your nipple in his mouth, and you gasp sharply when he bites down with his teeth, swirling his tongue over it quickly to soothe your reddened skin. But Minho doesn’t stop there, his lips trailing all over you, unable to stop kissing you. 

It’s a thousand times stronger, more intimate than the time from the summer, the feelings that have built between you mounting and mounting until they’re an inferno. 

The first press of his tongue against your folds has you squirming as you desperately rock your hips against his mouth. Your knees buckle around him as he works you with his tongue, fingers dipping lower and lower until they press right against where you need him most. Feeling a harsh suck to your clit, you moan loud enough that you’re sure that anyone who’s outside can hear you. But you don’t care, reveling in what it means to let him in.

Just as you’re about to let go and surrender yourself completely, Minho’s fingers retreat, leaving you clenching around nothing. You open your lips, ready to protest, but Minho cuts you off, stuffing his fingers inside your mouth.

“Suck,” he commands, and you’re left breathless, unable to do anything but comply while wetting the digits, tasting yourself.

“Need to see you come while I’m inside you,” Minho slips off the rest of his clothes. You feel your mouth go dry when his cock springs free, and he chuckles at the depraved look in your eyes, before pushing his cock completely inside, leaving you reeling at the stretch.

“Please, move,” you beg, and he obliges. Fucking you slowly like he never wants to forget this moment. His strong arm slips around your waist, lifting you up against his chest and his lips find yours again, tongue licking into you to steal the moans that escape you, head dizzying at the change in position.

“Minho, fuck, I’m going to come, please wanna so bad,” you whine, feeling lightheaded with ecstasy. Reaching down, Minho rubs tight circles on your clit, messy slick coating his fingers until you feel yourself snap, gushing around him.

“Cum for me ____,” he breathes against your neck.

That’s what does it, pushing you overboard, wetness gushing from you as you moan his name. Minho speeds up his thrusts to join you, groaning when he feels himself explode, before slumping against you, chest heaving with the weight of his breaths.

His sweat soaked bangs are messy, covering his eyes, and his fingertips skim across your cheek, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Stay with me?” he blurts out, head ducking in embarrassment at the silly statement. “I mean, not like that, just..”

And you sigh, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him closer to you, burying your head in the crook of his shoulder, soft breath fanning his damp skin. 

Dawn spills into Minho’s room, and you sigh, careful not to wake a snoring Minho. He’d fallen asleep quickly, but you’d been unable to do the same, tossing and turning beside him. What scared you was how much regret you didn’t feel over what had just transpired. How much you wished you could just give in and let it happen again. 

But you couldn’t. Not only had you completely broken the pact to be just friends with Minho, but you’d also completely forgotten about the entire reason you’d even come here last night, the forgotten responsibilities of your job weighing heavily on you.

Rising, you carefully pick up your clothes, throwing them on quickly. You feel Minho stir softly, before he’s stretching, rubbing at his eyes.

“Morning,” his voice is low and raspy, but also completely content. A sharp contrast to the torment you currently feel. “Wanna grab breakfast?”

“Minho,” your voice is bleak, and you watch his figure slump. He’d fucked up. You both had.

“Last night should have never happened. And I know that if we keep doing this, spending time with each other, it’ll happen again. But I can’t. I have a job, I have responsibilities, and they’re important to me.”

You know the words cut deep, because you also know you’d give them all up in a second to wake up to him again, to feel his lips on yours. 

Minho’s expression is blank, watching you scurry around the room to pick up your stuff. You knew the moment you walked out of there, there’d be no going back, even to being friends.  

It breaks your heart even more when he doesn’t move to get up and help you, watching you instead with devastated eyes. 

But you also knew you couldn’t turn around and look back at him, because you’d drop everything and stay.

. . .

The sun is too bright, hurting your eyes as you walk to the dining hall, what feels like chalk settling in the back of your throat. You feel like you’re battling the worst hangover of your life, despite not having a single drink last night, and you were so grateful Felix was still asleep when you’d slipped inside.

You’d let everything slip out of control, and now your life was spiralling. For a brief moment, you wondered if you should just accept the guilt for everything, leaving Minho behind and handing in your resignation. But then you realized how stupid that sounded, leaving you with nothing.

You swing the heavy door to the dining hall open, not even noticing the figure on the other side until you’re falling backwards. You catch the door just in time, looking up to be met with the tall figure of Kim Namjoon. And he doesn’t look happy.

“___, my office, now.”

. . .

Namjoon rubs in between his eyebrows, his expression darting in between you and the door. Your heart is pounding, fear taking over, even though you already know that whatever is happening cannot be good.

“____, when I chose you for this position at the beginning of the year, it was because I saw so much potential in you,” he begins, his voice trembling. “I thought you’d never do anything to upset me, to disappoint me.”

The word disappoint tells you everything you need to know, and tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. Of course there would have been wandering eyes at the party last night. Of course someone would have recognized you, seen what you were doing, and said something to Namjoon. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid.

“Getting involved with a resident is a blatant violation of the responsibilities that have been entrusted to you as a resident assistant. Furthermore, you failed to act and de-escalate a situation that was a clear violation of the student code of conduct.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you cry out, hoping Namjoon will rethink everything. “It was a mistake. I’m sorry.” 

You watch his eyes flash with hurt at your pleading, but you know from the despondency in his expression there’s nothing you can do.

“I’m sorry, ____ but I have to report this to the advisory board. They’ll deliberate, but as of right now, you’re suspended, and it’s very likely you won’t be invited back next year. Karina will fill in for you in the meantime.”

He stands up, before leading you out gently. “I wish there was more I could do.”

You’re unable to say a word, slipping your coat over your shoulders and ducking your head to try to hide the tears that won’t stop flowing. You wonder if you should try harder, plead your case, but you know that the fault was entirely yours. 

Looking up, you see Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin walk into the dining hall, laughing to each other, and duck behind a corner, your appetite completely gone. Taking off, you run as fast as you can, not stopping until your feet lead you back to the dorms.

Campus in the springtime is a sea of pink - the light, delicate hue of cherry blossoms creating a canopy on the ground, filling up the pathway to the fountain. But their beauty is lost on Minho, who sits by the fountain, staring blankly at the gurgling water. 

Two months. It’d been two months since you’d ended things, rushing out of his room. Two months since you’d chosen responsibility over him. Minho wanted to be angry, wanted to hate you. But he just felt empty instead. 

He’d tried talking to everyone – Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin had no idea what happened to you. Felix would only glare at him in anger from across campus, and he wonders if he’d broken your heart just as bad as you’d broken his. As if somehow that would make him feel better, knowing you were in just as much pain as him. But it didn’t.

His own teammates saw how everything ached for Minho, from him burning his breakfast to failing to catch the simplest of throws. And they were worried. But Minho couldn’t fix this – he couldn’t go back to how the two of you had been before. Because in reality, there’d never been a chance for the two of you to begin with. He realized it now. You were just too different. 

And yet it hadn’t stopped him from falling in love with you. He’d finally figured it out, when it was far too late. He was in love with you – the way you made him feel alive, like the world was full of possibilities. Only for it all to come crashing down.

“Hey dude,” Chan’s soft voice comes from next to him, taking a seat on the bench. “You okay?”

“Hanging in there, old man,” Minho musters a weak smile, but it falters, and Chan immediately notices. Minho looks at his friend, who can’t stop looking around at who’s passing by, and he realizes he’s keeping a secret.

“Spill,” Minho commands, and Chan furiously nods no.

“Lino, we have our last game soon, you need to stay focused…”

“Say it,” Minho hisses through his teeth, because he knows that whatever Chan is hiding it’s about you.

The words come spilling out before Chan can stop them, and Minho takes them all in, everything suddenly becoming clear.

. . . 

The roar of the buzzer echoes in Minho’s ear,  along with the deafening sound of the crowd, and suddenly he’s being dogpiled by his teammates. Hyunjin and Changbin are screaming in his ear, the school fight song is blaring, but time slows for Minho, and he focuses on none of it.

Everything moves too quickly, the fans rushing from the stands, spilling out onto the field and campus beyond. Minho is being pushed, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, until the locker room appears behind him. He’s stripping off his jersey, hitting the showers while his teammates erupt into joy around him. Minho lets the water drip off him, bracing himself against the wall, heavy breaths escaping him.

The win didn’t feel like a win at all. Not with the guilt that resided in his chest ever since he’d spoken to Chan a week ago. Minho knew the celebrations would go all night, the liquor would keep flowing, that all bets were off and every rule could be broken. But he didn’t care about any of that.

All he knew was that tonight, while campus erupted into a riotous celebration, he needed to find you.

He ignores Hyunjin’s protests while he slips out of the locker room, Chan holding his other teammates back. Minho throws a hoodie on, and steps out into the night air.

The first thing he notices is the swarm – there are people everywhere, screams echoing in his ears. Then it’s the pandemonium - banners strewn on the ground, the blare of an air horn in the distance, the blaze of what he’s pretty sure is a firework. 

People line up around him as he moves through the crowd, pushing his way through overzealous fans, and overeager sorority girls offering him a victory kiss. He throws his hood up, ducking his face so that no one else can catch him, setting off to the emptier part of campus.

Eventually, the crowd dies down as he draws closer to the dorms, everyone out celebrating on the main green. Minho walks down the path he’s become so familiar with this year, the familiar sound of the fountain welcoming him.

He knew he’d find you here. Your eyes are turned away from him as you sit on the edge, aimlessly dragging your hand through the water.

“Not gonna celebrate?” He watches you jump at the sound of his voice, quickly rising up.

“Congrats, I’m sure it was a great game,” you whisper, but you’re backing away, and Minho can’t let you leave.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Minho interrupts you, resting his arm on yours, and he watches your eyes meet his, so much pain contained within them when you realize he knows.

“It wasn’t your fault, it was mine,” you counter, looking down at the fountain. 

“That’s such crap, they let you go for that?”

“They let me go because I broke the rules, Minho. I deserved it.”

Minho lets out a heavy sigh, watching you shiver in the cold, and he slips off his hoodie. You dodge it, the two of awkwardly dancing around each other, before accepting it, sinking into the feeling of Minho’s warmth. 

“You’ve gotta stop letting me steal your jackets, I’ve already got a rap sheet,” you joke, but Minho doesn’t smile.

“I’m so fucking sorry, ___.” He says looking out onto the campus. “We really fucked things up, didn’t we?”

“Maybe this is how it was supposed to be,” you tell him. “You know, I was reading up on things, and I learned that sometimes, stars collide, and then they just collapse into dust. Like nothing else happens – they’re together one moment, and then the next, remnants of the collision float through the universe.”

Minho watches your breath come out in heavy puffs, and mind wanders back to the stars on the night he’d almost kissed you in the fountain.

“Can I have one more memory then?” He asks, intertwining his fingertips with yours, pulling you close to him, watching you nod before closing the distance in between you two. 

Sparks explode across your skin when he kisses you, your hands swinging around his neck. You sway from the wash of emotions that come over you, and Minho’s hands are there, steadying you as you break apart, rubbing his cheek against yours and pressing tiny kisses all the way from your temple to your hair.

Eventually, the sound of the crowd draws closer, and Minho watches you pull away, holding out his hoodie in his hands. Taking it, he watches you retreat, wondering if there’d ever be a time where the universe would let you find each other again to pick up the pieces.

Sighing, you tape up the last box, pushing it to the side before collapsing on the couch. The end of the semester had come quickly after the raucous football celebrations, everyone in campus on a high. 

Surprisingly, you’d dealt with the pain pretty well, settling into a new routine after being let go. Felix had been your biggest support, allowing you to cry into his shoulder as much as you wanted, baking plenty of brownies to keep you from descending into too deep of a depression.

Eventually, you’d learned to just let the wound scar over. The night of the game with Minho had provided you with closure in the best way possible, confirming to you that life had had its own plan for you all along. Thought, from time to time, you mind still lingered on the kiss the two of you had shared – for a moment, you’d thought that it could have meant something, but maybe that was your lesson – learning to take things as they were, because the more expectations you’d had, the more things fell apart.

A gentle knock interrupts your train of thought, and you walk over to the door, opening it up to find none other than Namjoon on the other side. Confused, you let him in, silence falling in between you while you wait for him to speak.

“____, I’m so sorry, MInho told me everything,” Namjoon blurts out, and his words have you reeling. What did he mean?

“He told me how he was the one to overstep the boundaries of your job and how you tried to stop it, I knew I shouldn’t have doubted you. The board says you can stay on for next year!”

You remain frozen in place, unable to speak or even think, before the overwhelming urge to find Minho comes over you.

“Namjoon, I’m sorry but I need to go right now.” 

And then you rush out the door.

. . . 

The door to room 103 is propped open with a six-pack, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes as you barge in, Hyunjin’s surprised figure greeting you right behind the door.

“_____? What the hell?”

“No time to talk, Hwang,” you push past him. “Where is he?”

“Where is who?”

“You know damn well who I’m talking about.”

Hyunjin pauses, before nodding his head towards Minho’s room, the subtle smirk never leaving his face as he watches you bound towards the door.

“LEE MINHO!” your shrill voice causes Minho to drop the book he was packing on his foot, and you smile as you watch him jump around, swearing under his breath. 

“____? What are you doing here…”

“How dare you!” Minho groans when you punch him in the arm. “I cannot believe you did that.”

“Damn it, I swore that Namjoon man to secrecy,” Minho chuckles, a whoosh of air leaving him when you suddenly throw your arms around him, burying your face into his neck. “You. Are. Crazy,” you whisper into his hair, feeling him smile against you while he pulls you closer, rubbing his hands on your back.

“You like it though,” he smirks. 

“I love it,” you correct him, watching his grin go from tentative to ear-splitting. “Namjoon said you were suspended from the team though. I’m confused, isn’t this your last semester?”

“Well,” Minho blushes. “I may have to stay an extra one. Just to sort everything out, you know.”

“Jeongin will be so thrilled to have you on the team with him,” you giggle, kissing the corner of his mouth. 

“And you?”

“I’m gonna need a re-do of that love poem you wrote me. Byron would be rolling over in his grave.”

“I don’t know who the hell that is.”

“Good thing you have time to learn then.”

“So,” Minho grabs your hand nervously. “My parents brought Soonie, Doongi and Dori with them. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to introduce them to my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” you ask him. 

“Oh I’m sorry would you prefer twin planet? Or shining star?”

“Watch it Lee.”

Minho wastes no time dragging you out the door with him, Hyunjin waving the two of you off. Stepping out into the sunshine, you see two figures in the distance waving to Minho, and you smile, the collision that had once steered you off course finally leading you and Minho back on the path where you both belonged. With each other.

a/n pt. 2: they are so getting married btw! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

tagging: @mal-lunar-28

[sunoosets]

Hiii you are so talented and I just wanted to ask you if you could write about dom jungwon with an s/o that loves doggy style and spanking 🤭🫣

Also I wanted to ask you if you have anons and when that could I please be the 😽 anon??

Have a great day and ty ❤️

aww thank u smmmm!! i only have one anon as of now so ofc u can be an anon:))<3

i decided to merge two asks as i felt like i could:

"DOM!JW PLEASE I'M BEGGING"

i mean.. well, i hope you cuties enjoy this one, it's long, messy, n i was gonna do a longer mirror scene but only made it a few sentences😓 oh well, love u all!!<3

It was a mistake, really, to even dare assume Jungwon was small. To tease him, taunt him. Assume, again, that he was submissive, whiny, and pathetic when it came to sex, and the feel of someone bouncing on his cock.

Jake’s laugh was hearty. Ripping through the tense air as you gently pushed aside Jungwon’s shoulder. A playful act, as you hoped. Yet his eyes had grown dark, and something lingered as he glared in your direction. Not so much an annoyed or frustrated stare, but an intense warning he had left you, paired with his small smirk.

“Nah, Y/n, he looks mad…” Jake held back a second laugh, cheeks puffing up as his breath hitched. His eyes creased as his need to burst grew. “Looks like he might just show you how wrong you are” Jake smiled, and then suppressed the action by settling his pearly teeth into the flesh of his lower lip. You scoffed. Flicking a sidewards glance at Jungwon’s form. “With his one-millimetre defeater?” You spoke, unable to even release those words without the presence of a teasing smile. Jake erupted. Slapping a palm to his knee, and letting slip a loud, melodious chuckle between his growing grin.

When you had set your vision on Jungwon once more, he had shifted. Face twisted toward you where you could clearly see his tongue press up against his inner cheek, and his eyes narrow. For a second, your stomach had flipped, and your heart had slipped it’s way down. Dropping suddenly. You swallowed, and he had seemed to notice the regret upon your features. His sweet, endearing smile flashed, and he grinned. “Would you like to find out the truth, hm?”

Jake had been laughing for at least twenty seconds now. Clearly impacted by crude, 12-year-old genitalia jokes. His blurry eyes had made their way toward an evidently puzzled Heeseung, who had just arrived with his newly plastered frown. “Hee, guess what Y/n just said!” He gasped. Collecting his breath as he twisted within his plush seat.

“Too scared my small cock will hurt you?” Jungwon tempted. Smirk crawling further along his dimple-decorated cheeks. He leant, so his heated breath could meet your jaw during his whispers. You let slip a breathy, almost nervous laugh. Perhaps a scoff. Shaking your head from either side.

“I doubt it would even tickle me.” Your head swivelled, and you smiled proudly. A regretful ache whitening your features when he had simply smirked in return. Lashes falling slowly, calmly. He wasn’t defensive. In the slightest. Your eyes wavered. Averting while he clicked his pink tongue against the roof of his mouth and whispered a sentence that had set a shiver to roll down your perked spine and perhaps even make your lower stomach flutter.

“Only one way to tell.”

His voice was low. Honeyed as it snaked through your ears and made you swallow the thick lump within your throat. He had this subtle sexy confidence, enough to have you on your knees, but where had this been hiding? For so long, he had appeared as a submissive type to you. All whimpers and whines as you suck on his pretty pink tip, but now, with his cocky grin, and the reactions to your teases. It might be you that ends up on all fours, crying his name at the top of your heavy lungs.

The thought was off. Never had you begun to think of cute, innocent Jungwon in such a way.

You couldn’t even comprehend before you were taken by the wrist. His soft, warm palm along your skin as he guides you to his room. You could smell his cologne. Intoxicating. Your head spun, and then thumped when his hands fell against your waist. He pulled you into his chest, trapping you between his ribs. “I wasn’t actually gonna fuck you.” He whispered. Low, and serene. A nonchalant twist of his lips as he holds you close. Peering down through hooded eyes as he wraps his scent around you. Almost pulling the breath from your tight throat.

Jungwon smiled, eyes heavy and dark as they easily traced the outline of your rubbing thighs. His fingers fell, brushing from your side toward your inner leg. The pad of his finger slid, and pressed teasingly between your clothed, and shamelessly soaked lips. Your pussy throbbed at the mere, bare minimum. His slanted smile twitched. “But seeing as your so wet, maybe I should?”

“Would you like that?” His grin was cocky, paired with his lowered voice. His warm breath tangled amidst your hair as his lips landed beside your jaw. Placed closely to the side of your ear. “Do you want to be fucked by my small cock?”

Regret couldn’t have surpassed this stage. It was at a point that the feeling deep within your bones. Dwelling within your squirming, tight stomach. Should be an entirely different word. Perhaps one that has yet to exist.

You swallowed, again. Eyes growing. You suppressed the urge to melt between his fingers. Hand yourself to him. Fall to your knees for him. You gave him a small smile. Your palms were shaky as you buried them between the fabric of his shirt and pulled him near. “Let’s see what you can do..” You whispered, façade slipping, but still stable.

You hadn’t fully given in to him yet. No matter how hard it had become. With his body, warm and soft. His skin sliding along yours, as his shirt was ditched. His golden, gleaming complexion. Smooth to the touch. Had you quietly begging for more. With each stroke your palm took across his abs. Every line you had traced of his skin. The lack of impurities, as his visage glowed.

He set multiple rushed kisses to your parted lips. Overbearing you with his wet, eager motions, before ultimately pushing himself against you and melting into a passionate make-out. His arms snaked, and yours had remained along his heaving chest. Your bodies had been entwined. Your thighs now either side of his waist as you attempt every possible writhe which could set you closer to his heat. Jungwon pulled from your whining lips. Smirk sly as he lifted his hips and rubbed his growing bulge against your clothed clit. You pulsed. Breath becoming fast between his arms, and above his cock. “Can you take it?” He asked, and you had instinctively lowered your head. Quiet, to which he had grinned harder. Dimples popping from between his cheeks. “Wanna get on your hands and knees for me?”

“Yeah.” You had replied. Faster, and more eagerly than you would have liked. Your cheeks had grown warm as he laughed beneath his breath. A gentle, comforting chuckle.

You had always found yourself imagining Jungwon fucking you from behind, as much as you wouldn’t like to admit. The thought of him pushing you down against the bed. Your arms and legs shaky as he ruts himself into you. Constant, rough rocks until you’re a mess in his hold.

Now his fingers were hot as they trailed down your spine. Ticklish, as your stomach flipped. His palm was soft as it pressed into your lower back. Settling there while his fingers had become splayed. Holding you down against his bedsheets. Your knees dug into the mattress, as well as your own palms. Lightly, your fingers wrapped around the blankets. Folding them into a ball you could hold, and grip, to stabilise your shaky limbs.

His cock was hard, clearly leaking as he rubbed his swollen tip against your clit. Jungwon hummed, holding back a whine as he slid his own hand along his shaft. Sighing when a drop of his pre-cum dribbled between your cheeks. With one hand, he held the left side of your ass. His palm moulding the flesh, while you whimpered, and rolled your hips backward, to meet his pink, drooling tip. “Why are you so excited?” He teased. His entire cock sliding between the mess he had made. “It’s barely two inches.” His taunt was light-hearted, as you could clearly hear his stretching smile. Especially the pride that had sunk across his curling lips when his cock had pushed into you. Finally sinking between your plush, clenching walls. His length stretched you wide, pulling both a gasp and a moan from your throat. Your jaw lowered. Ready to let slip the consistent string of whimpers as Jungwon began to move. Roll his hips against your ass. Skin against skin. His cock stroking the deepest parts of you.

He groaned. Head falling backward, as his hips picked up speed. His fast-paced bucks had you shaking. Elbows almost buckling. You were quivering with each rough rock he took into you. Cock squeezing between your tight walls. His hair fell against his vision. Unfortunate. As his dick was twitching at the mere sight of you on your knees for him. Shaky, and whiny. Your ass rolling back against the corrupted air between you and taking his cock so well. He could watch his dick sink into you and could see the way your body shook.

“Am I still small?” Jungwon breathed out. A shaky laugh. He bit his lip, palm massaging the skin of your cheek. “S-shut up.” You stuttered. Face flushed, and gleaming with a sheen of undeniable sweat. Jungwon’s fingers ran smoothly along your ass. The soft skin being handled and traced. Delicately, he lifted his palm and tapped your ass. Two small slaps, that had caused no harm. Your face, however, had lit up, and your tight hole had clenched. Wrapping harsher around his cock while your pussy had swallowed him whole. Jungwon groaned. Voice heavy and loud as you took him. “Ah, Y/n?” His smirk had twitched. “Do you like that?” He questioned, his palm resuming it’s massage. Set lightly on your ass.

You could only moan. Pushing back your hips and creating an arch within your back. His cock slid deeper. Now fully encased between your dripping walls. “Ah, shit…” Jungwon cursed. Softly, beneath his breath. Teeth, clearly biting down into a suppressed smirk.

He rubbed, and then the warmth had supposedly disappeared. His palm lifted, and fell back against your flesh with a sharp, exhilarating slap. You cried at his action. Skin surely red, as he had repeated himself. Breathy sighs evident from his parted lips, while he was set on fucking into you until his pulsing cock had come.

“More, more…” You begged. “Mm fuck.”

All shame now seamlessly evaporating when his cock was buried deep between your walls. Twitching against the tight convulses. Jungwon grunted when his hand met the rosy patch that had been decorated along your skin. His hips lifted, and his skin caressed yours. You were slipping. One final spank, and the feel of his tip slamming the deepest part of you was enough to have you squeeze and make a mess of his dick.

Jungwon’s moans had raised in pitch as he neared. His cock making crude, wet sounds as he pushed through the mixture of white, warm cum. His fingers curled, and gripped your waist, pulling you near as he let the thick stripes of his cum fill your insides. His skin was set against yours. His chest clearly heaving.

“Do you wanna go out there and tell Jake how big I really am?” Jungwon joked between breaths. His chuckle light-hearted as his shoulders fell, and his palms dropped from your skin. His cock slid from within you, letting Jungwon’s warm pleasure release down the sides of your sticky thighs. “I’d rather not..” You sighed, still shaky.

Jungwon fell silent, and then the soft touch of an arm caught you off guard. He had wrapped himself around you, hand flat against your raising stomach as he pulled you back against the comfort of his lap. Between his legs. His breath hit your ear, and a second shiver ran through your spine. It pressed along his back, and straightened when he had let his fingers fall toward your messy clit. “Look at the mirror, baby.” He whispered along your neck. You swallowed, eyes shifting toward the mirror against his bedroom wall. Golden framed with clean glass. Too clear. You couldn’t help but pulse against his heated, smooth hand. His slim fingers had situated themselves either side of your clit, spreading you before your own gaze. Letting the mess drool out from between your puffed-up lips. His cum had filled you to the brim, and now he was showing you the aftereffects. Sly smirk, again, curling upon his lips, as he pressed them to the shell of your ear. He then hummed. “I don’t think a small cock can do this, hm?”

[sepublic]

Continuing my ramblings on Predator (1987), there's an interesting choice of cinematography when the protagonists start fighting back against their titular antagonist; Once Anna explains the Predator's schtick as a chameleon, our heroes begin making new traps meant to fool the Predator. And as they do, there's some pretty choice shots emphasizing the bulging muscles of characters like Dillon and the like. Dillon is interesting especially given he's framed as the least masculine of the guys due to being a dishonest pencil-pusher; Here, it seems as if everyone, even Dillon, is reclaiming their masculinity with this chance to fight back. With this chance to turn back the odds and restore their conventional status as action heroes.....

And then we know how it all goes down; The Predator breaks free of the trap, and kills its last four victims of the film to leave only Dutch and Anna. The Predator as a dark reflection of the characters' machismo makes more sense when you consider how he can mimic the voices of the others, and the wound that puts him down is identical to that of his final victim Poncho; Both are felled by a log trap.

From the perspective of the Predator, other characters' voices become noticeable high-pitched; I wonder if this is, in a way, meant to show how even a badass like Dutch is 'feminized' in the eyes of the Yautja. The line between Predator and the protagonists is further blurred when Dutch achieves his own form of cloaking that is also sabotaged when he comes into contact with water; He learns to fight more like the Predator, relying on stealth, ambush, and the environment around him to hide and attack. So now the Predator becomes the hunted too. Its final words are to repeat Dutch's only lines back at him before laughing in Billy's hearty voice.

You know that one post circulating around here, where people joke about what if the Predator was more the exception to his home's culture, rather than the norm? What if he was the Yautja equivalent to bored middle-class dudes who decide to go on a hunting trip for fun, to collect trophies from lions and other animals that are otherwise harmless and victimized, to flex how 'badass' he is? And meanwhile everyone else back home is rolling their eyes because what a loser. What if that's really just what the Predator is meant to symbolize, in the context of the original film at least; People who like to kill and hunt to show off how masculine they are.

But in the end, it's quite easy and cowardly, arguably, to rely on a cloaking device, whilst sniping oblivious targets from afar. Beforehand, I wonder if we could take into account how animals are treated by the human protagonists beforehand; One of the characters kicking a bird aside, Mac stabbing a scorpion. Them flexing their macho attitudes by killing an animal that for all intents and purposes is pretty helpless against the one who gets it. And then the roles are reversed where the human protagonists become the game for the Predator to make trophies out of.

I find it fascinating Dutch's reaction when Mac admits that Blain was his friend; You get the sense that this is quite uncharacteristic a thing for Mac to do. Nowadays it seems like a pretty obvious and understandable thing for any guy to do, but for someone like Mac, it IS quite the confession of emotional vulnerability here. Plus there's Poncho being a sad sopping wet cat for the rest of the film, once Hawkins is the first to die.

If Predator is a slasher film, then it subscribes to its own version of the rules, just as it has its own version of a 'final girl' in muscled badass Dutch, played by Arnold Schwarzenegger. You know how those who have premarital sex die first? It seems Predator operates on similar rules; Hawkins makes crude jokes about female genitalia and is killed first. Blain calls everyone else the f-slur and proclaims his own sexual prowess, in addition to being your typical badass macho man who's too tough to feel pain, and then he's unceremoniously killed off pretty early too. This is despite, or rather because of, being the "big guy" who wields a giant mini-gun.

Mac and Billy are stoic, but Mac unravels psychologically and sings lyrics about objectifying a woman shortly before his death, and Billy remains rattled throughout by the Predator's presence, even openly admitting to Poncho that he's afraid. And of course there's Poncho, who is on the verge of tears 24/7 once the movie's genre shifts, voice constantly wavering.

On a final note, one could be half-joking about homoerotic undertones between Mac and Blain, at least on Mac’s end. Which could be an interesting discussion in and of itself when you also account for Blain’s use of the f-slur and how he’s the most stereotypically masculine of the group. Because I know the military is known for being a place where homosexuality was often discovered and explored. How would that factor into the larger themes of masculinity in this film, I wonder?

[oletus-writer]

Can I have Luchino (hunter), Wu, and Antonio with a s/o that’ll make the most wild dirty jokes and laugh their ass off about it? But if anything even slightly dirty actual happens they’ll get red in the face and look away or cover their eyes. They’re just like “THIS IS INAPPROPRIATE I REFUSE TO LOOK”

Sorry that this took a while - I’ve been getting a lot of requests, surprisingly. (Also I have written things I never thought I’d write. The nsfw keigan alphabet was nothing, but this? Not exactly a challenge but I had a lot of fun.)

Luchino (hunter), Wu Chang, Antonio x reader who makes inappropriate jokes but is actually shy

Warnings: nsfw themes

Luchino (hunter)

When he first met you, you had asked him how his penis worked, which surprised and amused him. I mean, it was nice not to have another shocked person, asking how it happened, but why the question?

‘Well… I have a hemipenis, which is the practical term for two penises, inverted inside my cloaca. A cloaca is a hole where animals use to urinate, defecate, and have sex with. This is common in reptiles, and, since I am half a lizard, it would make sense for me to - hang on. That’s not how you properly greet people, is it?’

Soon, Luchino got used to your jokes and even began to look forward to hearing them - it’s not everyday when someone cracks such crude jokes in the manor, let alone to a human lizard hybrid.

When the two of you started dating, he was hesitant to make any sexual advances in fear of you rejecting him because of his situation. However, when he did, your bashfulness first of all surprised him, then brought out a playful side to him.

‘Amore mio, what’s this? You’re shy? How cute. You’d be even cuter being pounded by me, no?’

Xie Bi’an

As the only person on the list that would feel slightly embarrassed to have heard those jokes, Bi’an hides it well. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t find it funny - you’ll hear some breathy laughter from the man.

‘You have quite the mind. Do you stay up late and think of these jokes?’

In a duo hunters match together, he was surprised when he began unbuttoning his shirt because of the heat and you turned red as a tomato. What were you embarrassed about? He was under the impression that you could not care less if he stood naked in front of you.

‘You’re quite red, do you have a fever? No? Then why are you blushing so much? Ah… if that’s the case, I shall button up.’

It doesn’t come as much of a problem when the two of you are dating, since Bi’an likes to take it slow and is more romantic than horny. However, when the time comes, he hopes you won’t be too shy.

Fan Wujiu

When you made your first joke, he was one of the people who audibly laughed - sometimes, he’d make similar jokes just to see Bi’an flustered.

‘Heh. You and I will get along, I think.’

He’s going to flirt at you, as a joke at first, and then, it kind of clicked. Wujiu liked you more than a toy, liked seeing your embarrassed expressions, but there was a pang of hurt when you began to avoid him.

‘You’re avoiding me? Come on, I’ll tease you less.’

After this, he was a bit avoidant - he stopped his touches and lessened his teasing remarks. Perhaps this absence made you reconsider your feelings towards the man?

Antonio

Finally there’s someone to match with his dirty brain. An unstoppable duo, the two of you are, a power couple. So it came no surprise when the announcement came that the two of you were official.

Romance with Antonio was a whirlwind, but a problem soon arose - you were too shy to have sex. When he discovered this, he too teased you relentlessly.

‘Why are you suddenly acting like this, songbird? You had no problem with traumatising Joseph, but won’t even look at my tits? They’re good tits, too, for a cadaver.’

Teasing remarks aside, he’ll do his best to be supportive, and would encourage some casual intimacy, such as touching your waist, sleeping in the same bed, etc. For you, he’ll take it as slow as you’d like, even though he’s itching to get a move on. Suppose that’s what masturbation is for.

‘Passero, would you like to sleep in my bed tonight? It feels awfully lonely without you. No pressure, though.’

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

Just read all your Lor'themar thoughts now I want to share one of my own: Imagine Lor'themar finally snapping and claiming the human he's been obsessing over.

His soft little human Darling suspected nothing out of the ordinary as they told him that they had news to share with him, asking if he had a moment to spare of course he did he always would for them.

They didn't expect to watch the color drain from his face as they told him that they would have to leave soon, far outside of his sphere of influence, outside of his loving embrace. They tried to reassure him, telling him that they would make sure to write to him and visit as soon as they possibly could, but he just stared blankly at them in stunned silence.

After still not receiving a response from him, they sighed and turned to leave, thinking of how best to pack their things as they stepped towards the door to exit Lor'themar's chambers.

Only for Lor'themar himself to descend upon them like a ravenous animal.

I'm imagining some fantasy romance novel shit, like they turn after Lor'themar says their name and takes their arm, only for him to pull them in for a kiss while cupping their cheek. When he finally pulls away, the two of them just stare at each other and he quietly says that he can't let them leave, especially when there's so much he's left unsaid--so much he's been afraid to do.

He doesn't wear his armor to sleep, just a silken night robe that he's eagerly tossing aside (and wrapping around Darling when the night is through). The warmth of the braziers and magelights around the palace is nothing compared to holding them, touching them, tasting them. There are crude jokes about the rough primal way races like orcs and ogres and trolls have sex, but that night Lor'themar is proving that Sin'dorei can be just as "passionate".

[marithlizard]

You know what's a not very smart thing for your brain to do? Get a plot bunny that insists on being written just before a new episode is going to come out and invalidate it. This will all need to be rewritten after "Oops" drops but I liked how it came out anyway and thought I'd save it here. Blitzo mentions having a therapist in S1E1. He was probably joking, but what if he wasn't?

-----------

If it wasn't for Rasputin's Raspberry, he never would've gone inside in the first place.

Sure, it caught his attention almost every day as he trudged home after his shift: "COUNSELING AND THERAPY" in plain block letters, black on white, a sign that was so boring-ass and cheap that it stood out against the colorful crap that lined the streets around the Hellevator. The owner had scored a space in this prime real estate territory in a practical and traditional way: put a makeshift door at the entrance to an alley and stretch some canvas between the buildings for a roof.

Every time he saw the sign Blitzo wondered what kind of sad sack would pay for those things in Hell. Therapy was that human thing about lying on a sofa while someone with a clipboard asked questions about your mother. And counseling sounded like sex work without the sex, someone getting paid to just sit there and do nothing while you talked about your problems. Not exactly good value.

But today he wasn't trudging home so much as squelching, leaving a trail behind him, and frankly there wasn't much to look forward to when he got there. His steps slowed.

Yeah, who needed someone to listen patiently while they vented? Someone totally uninvolved who...might not even recognize any names and could care less if they did, who was getting paid to keep a straight face while he got it all off his chest for once...

He really was a sad sack, wasn't he?

Inside it was just an alley littered with garbage. The dangling canvas “walls” at front and back flapped in the breeze, letting in dust and the dim red light of Pride. The only things to see, in fact, were the hole in the ground and the sign next to it with a crude arrow pointing down.

Blitzo looked over the edge. Seven feet? Eight? The electrical cable at his feet ran down to the bottom and curved off into a tunnel, which explained why it wasn’t dark in there.

His survival instincts said Hello? Trap? Go down there and you could die, dumbass.

The darker voice he’d been hearing lately said How much do you care?

By the time he was six yards down the sloping tunnel, he’d realized it wasn’t a trap. Someone had put far too much work into this thing, even braced the walls and ceiling with struts of scrap metal. A green curtain hung across the end of the tunnel ahead of him for that extra-homey troglodyte touch.

Blitzo pushed aside the curtain and stepped into a surprisingly normal-looking room with white walls. A tall spindly sinner unfolded from the chair behind the desk and stood up.

“Are you lost?” They cocked their head like a bug considering a possible meal. Literally.

He’d never seen a demon so much like a preying mantis: huge bulging faceted eyes, curving claws like saw blades, even antennae sticking up out of their gray-green head. He couldn’t begin to make a guess at gender, not that it was any of his business.

“What the fuck did you do when you were alive to end up like that?”, he blurted in genuine admiration.

“Oh, you are lost.” Surprisingly, there was no buzz in the calm voice. “This is the counseling office, where people come to answer personal questions, not ask them.”

“Riight, the mother thing. Well, I’m not telling you jack shit to feed whatever maternal fetish you humans have going on, I don’t care if you’re fantasizing about fucking one or having one or being one or whatever, there’s plenty of fun things to do with tits but do them on your own time.”

They laughed, and now he could hear the droning buzz behind it. “You’re very energetic. No. No one here has to talk about anything they don’t want to.”

“So what, you sit in that chair and people yell at you about the shitty day they had?”

“If that’s how you want to spend your hour.” They held out a claw. “Twenty in advance, by the way.”

What the hell, he was already here and it was less than he’d spend at a bar in the same amount of time. Blitzo pulled out his wallet and gingerly stuck a couple of bills onto the big spine that curved up from their palm like a permanent middle finger. The sinner plucked them off deftly and sat back down.

“The floor is yours.”

His father was wrong. He did not freeze up in front of audiences, that was not a thing that happened, forgetting a line or two and improvising was not the same thing. But standing there looking at a hundred tired, defeated looking Blitzos reflected in those disco ball eyes, he wasn’t sure where to start.

After a few moments of silence the sinner asked, “What is that red stuff you tracked into my office, anyway?” They didn’t sound angry, just curious.

Blitzo looked down at the red glop all over his lower legs and feet. “That...is the signature slurpee flavor of the most popular ride at Loo Loo Land this season, Dunk the Monk.”

“What kind of ride is that? A waterslide?”

“No, see, there was this human a long time ago who was really hard to kill, or something? Everyone gets issued a gun, and you ride around in little carts on a track past these displays of all the different ways to kill him, and if enough people shoot the target on each one -”

“I get the picture. “

“It’s pretty clever, I have to admit. And the music track slaps. The slurpee flavor tastes like ass though.”

“And you’re covered in it because…?”

“Because the dispenser was broken again, and when you take it apart to fix it half the time the contents spray all over. Preferably on the customers, it makes them look like massacre victims and most of them love it, but today the whole machine just came apart in my hands like the useless piece of crap made out of Satan’s pubic hair shavings that it is.”

“So you work at Loo Loo Land. Fixing things?”

“Doing whatever shit job needs doing. Anything and everything, if it’s grubby or gross, give it to Blitzo and laugh. If I’m lucky I get to put on the world’s lamest clown costume and hand out balloons next to the fucking robot star. I haven’t been allowed on a stage since -”

“Since?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Okay.”

So that dropped the conversational ball with a thud. But it was picked up and handed back to him: “So if this was a bad day, how does a typical day go for you? Start to finish.”

“Oh, I, uh...” No one had ever asked him a question like that, not and stuck around for the answer. Huh. “Well, I get up, obviously, my tiny shitty apartment is all the way out at the ass-edge of Imp City but at least I have a place of my own now, if I had to stay in the company dorms one more night someone was gonna die, anyway I have to get up at 4am to be on site by 6 and get yelled at with everyone else because yesterday’s sales…”

Twenty minutes later he was pacing back and forth, waving his arms around like one of the puppets on fire in the daily Punch-and-Judy show. “- and we were having a great time, those kids LOVED my balloon animals, until one humorless bitchmom complained that they were “too anatomically correct”. Does she have any idea how hard it is to perfect a balloon horse with a dick? No. Did she get me banned from the only fun thing I still got to do in this festering shithole? Yes.”

He paused, panting. “Okay, yeah, it did feel good to get all that out there. I feel like I just puked up everything I shouldn’t have ordered from Wackdonalds in the last year.” Ten pounds lighter, slightly dizzy, and ready to fall asleep on the nearest safe flat surface. Too bad that was far away in his apartment.

“I have questions,” said the sinner.

Blitzo dragged over the rickety chair that was the only other piece of furniture in the room and sat on it, carefully. “Oh yeah? I wouldn’t brag about it, that shit can be contagious.”

They leaned back, rasping one forearm against the other slowly with a sound like sandpaper. “Is there anything at all you enjoy about your work now?”

“Uh, were you paying attention at all?” For a moment he was tempted to demand his money back. “...I guess there was nothing about listening comprehension in the deal, huh. The answer is no.”

Scraaape. “Then why do you stay?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re clearly not a prisoner, or you wouldn’t be here,” they pointed out. “Why do you get up every morning and go back?”

Well that was a stupid question, he had to because - “I’m a circus imp. See this mark on my forehead? That’s the troupe I was born into. I learned how to walk on my hands as soon as I could walk on my feet, the three of us were the Toddler Terrors act for a while until Barbie decided she wanted to do highwire and me and Fizz went for clowning -”

He hadn’t meant to talk about Barbie or Fizz. Fuck. Blitzo shut his mouth.

A thoughtful clicking noise was the only sound from the other side of the desk. The silence stretched out, and out, until he started talking again just to fill it.

“Anyway… you don’t just stop being a circus performer.” Barbie had. “You stick with your family and your dream, and...” Fizz hadn’t. His piece of shit father certainly hadn’t. “What the fuck do you know about it? If you had all the answers you wouldn’t be spending your afterlife in a hole underground hoping an angel doesn’t spray you with DDT.”

“I don’t -”

“”Exterminators”, ha! Get it? Because you’re a bug?”

Their stupid upside-down triangle of a face didn’t even change. Great. Annoying people was his best skill as an adult and he was failing at that too.

“Your time is almost up, so let’s finish with a thought experiment. Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Because you want to get full value for your twenty. Close them.”

Blitzo did, with an irritated huff, because he couldn’t actually think of a reason not to. This still beat any of the other options he’d had for the evening.

“Imagine that it’s tomorrow and you’re getting up for work and turn on the radio, and hear that Loo Loo Land was destroyed. A freak accident, a turf war, whatever. You’re out of a job. You don’t know how you’ll pay next month’s rent. You’ll never see any of those people again. What do you feel, as you hear that news?”

He could lie, but what would be the point?

“...Relieved,” he admitted. “And worried, and also pissed off because I wanted to be the one to blow the fucking place up, but mostly relieved.”

“Now imagine it’s tomorrow and you get up for work and go in, and the next day and the next for the rest of your life. How does that prospect make you feel?”

No words were adequate. Blitzo made a noise that no dom had ever managed to beat out of him, not even that one guy with an electric cattle prod.

“It sounds as though you know what you need to do, then.”

How was he supposed to argue with the evidence that just came out of his own mouth? It was true. The place was killing him. He’d been telling himself to suck it up and get through one more day and week and month as though the next one would somehow magically be better. And he always knew it wouldn’t, but the alternative was terrifying.

And now it was right in front of him, inescapable.

“But...what can I do instead?” Thank fuck he was talking to a random sinner in a hole. The robot would laugh until it hiccuped sparks. And if Barb or Fizz heard him sounding this small and unsure – it didn’t bear thinking about. He would head straight to Envy and walk into the ocean first. “I don’t know how to do anything else.”

It took a few seconds for him to realize that the chittering sound was laughter.

“I’ve just sat here and listened to you tell me about your skills, yet you don’t realize you have them? Not many people can crawl into a duct and kill an infestation of hellipedes with nothing but a stick covered in chewing gum. Even fewer would be able to rescue the show after they fell out of the duct onto the performer.”

“The audience threw things at me. I don’t even know why so many of them had rocks.”

“But they had fun, didn’t they? You said they laughed at you.”

“Yeah, uh, you’re not helping boost my confidence here.”

“The point I’m trying to make is that you have nerve, strength, reflexes, the ability to think on your feet, and a certain kind of obnoxious charisma. You’re creative – the method you used to kill the cotton candy vendor and the park mascot at the same time, while giving yourself a solid alibi by being caught sucking off the ferris wheel operator? Agatha Christie could never.”

Blitzo felt his face growing warm. Positive feedback wasn’t something he got a lot of these days. “Welll, I didn’t exactly know all those kids would be able to see us from above. But it worked out. I guess it was pretty clever.”

The sinner grinned at him, showing – teeth? Mandibles? Whatever – in predatory approval. “Since I got here I’ve heard a lot about how imps are natural-born servants and followers. You’ve proven to me that’s bullshit in less than fifty minutes. Get out there and you’ll find no shortage of ways to use your talents.”

“Yeah. Yeah! You’re right, there’s got to be something.” Ideas were popping up in his brain suddenly. He’d never thought much about what the marks did with their boring little lives once they went home. A lot of things, that’s what. Things he could do better.

They extended a long, saw-toothed arm and pointed at the door. “Time’s up. Come back someday and tell me how it went.”

Too full of thoughts to bother answering, he went. As he reached the door, the sinner said, “And one more thing.”

“Yeah?” Blitzo answered, not turning around.

“Don’t feel guilty about abandoning the life you were born into or your dream or any of that shit. You already have. That place isn’t a circus, is it? You owe them nothing.”

“I don’t, do I?” He grinned, as a whole new set of thoughts floated up like champagne bubbles. “Later, bug-man.”

He wasn’t going to put in two weeks notice, that was for sure. But he could take a few days to make plans and leave some presents behind for his soon-to-be-ex coworkers. As he climbed back out of the hole and stepped out onto the street, Blitzo started to whistle cheerfully.

That had been a fucking good peptalk. It was worth more than a twenty, if he was being honest. Luckily he had just the right tool to leave a tip. That cheapass sign was looking a lot less boring by the time he put the marker back in his pocket and started the long walk across the city to his apartment.

Where would he be a year from now? Dead? Rich? In jail? Not at Loo Loo Land. The world was his oyster and Blitzo was going to pry that sucker open and do fish sauce shots. Just you watch, Fizz, he swore. Just you watch.

[brett-is-afraid]

Infatuation Takes Its Time

Rating: Explicit

Ship: Harrison x Jackson with background Matt x Jackson x Harrison

Warnings: Extremely dubious consent, brother incest, drugged sex, drunk sex, barebacking, top Jackson, bottom Harrison, voyeurism

Read it on ao3 or below the cut

“You two should kiss,” Matt muttered out from his place in an armchair. He was wrapped up in a blanket in his living room, sitting across from Harrison and Jackson who were relaxing on the couch. The air around them was heavy with smoke, filling their lungs and bloodstreams. Clearly, it was fogging up Matt’s mind already if the words were any indication. They drew a sharp laugh from Harrison and unnerving silence from Jackson who took a sip from his cup. 

“You’re such a horndog. Don’t be gross,” Harrison replied as Jackson busied himself, pretending to be interested in whatever alcohols and juices Matt had mixed together into one unholy combination. Harrison shifted to lay back a bit more, head falling onto the arm Jackson had around him. He might’ve had more of a reaction to the encouragement from Matt if it wasn’t for how high he was. Even if he was sober, he knew how Matt was and he was used to it by now. 

“Come on. I won’t tell anybody,” Matt pressed further, a wide smirk breaking out across his face that had Harrison laughing more. Jackson’s throat felt dry as he squeezed Harrison’s shoulder gently, listening to him giggling like a fucking schoolgirl at Matt. “You’ve seen my Pornhub history! Are you really gonna deny me a chance to see some real brother stuff?” Matt’s words trailed off into a laugh of his own, knowing how ridiculous it sounded even as he spoke. It pissed Jackson off a little, seeing how close Harrison and Matt seemed to be, but he pushed that feeling aside. 

“Harrison? Come on, why not?” Jackson reasoned, looking over at his older brother. Harrison looked back, eyebrows and nose slightly scrunched as he listened to Jackson. The older man looked so soft, lips light pink and tempting Jackson even more, hair mussed up. “You don’t think I’m hot enough to kiss me?” He hummed and Harrison grinned. It wasn’t sweet or sensual, it looked more like he was teasing Jackson and that made the younger scowl a bit. 

“Of course, you’re hot!” Harrison argued. He leaned up and Jackson's heart raced until he simply pressed a kiss to the younger man’s cheek. “There you go, Matty. Feel free to jerk off to that,” Harrison rolled his eyes, looking back at the blonde man. Matt’s eyebrows shot up and he gave an impressed noise that even Jackson, through the haze of alcohol and weed, could tell was exaggerated. Harrison was moved as Jackson sat his drink down on the table in front of them before moving back to his original position, letting Harrison cuddle back up to him immediately. 

“Feel free to jerk off to it?” Matt repeated, shifting and letting his long legs stretch out more. “What? You want me to whip it out right now?” He grinned at Harrison, reaching down to grope himself crudely. It was more of a joke rather than actually touching himself, but Jackson’s heart burned. He had a feeling Matt would agree in a heartbeat if Harrison genuinely wanted to see it. Which wasn’t saying much, Matt was always easy and that only got worse when he wasn’t sober. “Just say the word and I’ll do it for you, baby. Don’t worry,” Matt cooed at him. 

Jackson decided he didn’t like this dynamic anymore. He’d liked it when Matt was his friend and giving his attention to him, when all of Harrison’s attention was on his brother. But he didn’t like feeling left out while they talked like he wasn’t even there. He decided to do something about it. Turning to face Harrison a bit, he pressed his fingers into the man’s soft hair. Harrison was immediately receptive to the gesture, looking at him and smiling as Jackson played with his hair for a minute. 

“That feels really good,” Harrison murmured and Jackson tried to not be too nervous. It was nearly impossible, hand feeling like it was shaking as he touched him gently. But it was now or never. Fingers tightened in his hair a bit, not wanting to hurt him, but just enough to guide him closer. He pressed their lips together, using the hand at the back of Harrison’s head as a barrier to keep him from moving back away. Harrison was warm and soft when Jackson touched him. 

It took Jackson a moment to deepen the kiss. He was nervous and so caught up in his own head that he nearly forgot he needed to. He’d never forgive himself if he let go of this opportunity, though. His tongue brushed over the seam of Harrison’s lips, silently asking to be let in. He wasn’t surprised when Harrison made him work for it, little tease that he was. Matt made a choked noise in the background when Jackson finally pressed his tongue past Harrison’s lips and into his mouth. 

Jackson felt an odd sense of pride at hearing Matt reacting to this. He wanted the man to keep watching them, to realize Harrison was his and his alone. Licking deeper, Harrison tasted like cheap wine and the sharp burn of vodka. Next time, Jackson would make them drinks instead of letting Matt do it. He wouldn’t let Harrison drink such bullshit, he’d give him something good. He’d always take such good care of Harrison, better than Matt ever could anyway. Jackson groaned quietly  when he could feel his cock becoming interested in what was going on, hips shifting a bit to stay comfortable. 

“Jackson,” Harrison’s voice was soft and shaky, nearly unable to get the words out. There was a pause in Jackson kissing him, letting the older man speak. “I don’t want to cheat. I love her. I love my girlfriend,” He rambled on and Jackson would’ve felt a twinge of jealousy if he hadn’t been so intoxicated at that moment. He couldn’t feel anything negative as he shook his head carefully. 

“It can’t be cheating. It’s just me,” He told him with no uncertainty. He said it as if it was some unspoken rule about relationships that everybody knew. But he was just him. Just Jackson who had always been zero threat to any relationship. Just Jackson who didn’t count because there was no way he was viewed in a romantic or sexual light. Just Jackson who didn’t really count when he kissed Harrison, they were just brothers after all. This was just fun while they were high, just something for Matt’s benefit. “It’s just me,” He whispered, kissing Harrison again. 

“Fuck,” They heard Matt laugh breathlessly as Jackson tenderly licked into Harrison’s mouth. “You’re really into him, huh?” It wasn’t explicitly directed at either of them, but they all knew Matt was talking to Jackson. Harrison seemed a bit more receptive to being kissed now, tipping his head back to give Jackson a better angle and seeing Harrison like this didn’t help him calm down any. His hand slipped down to rub himself through the front of his jeans, trying to relieve some of the pressure. Matt was still laughing in the background, surprised at the scene unfolding in front of him.

“I love you so much,” Jackson murmured as he pulled away from the kiss, smiling at Harrison. His head felt fuzzy from the mix of alcohol and weed in his system, but it was good. It was beyond good, he felt on top of the world. “I need lube, Matt. Get me some,” He didn’t even bother asking, knowing Matt was a pushover. He’d get him some. And he was right, Matt was slowly getting to his feet and disappearing into another room to retrieve what he was looking for. 

“Why do you need lube?” Harrison murmured dumbly, head spinning. Everything seemed to be going by so fast, but Jackson didn’t reply. He kissed him again, holding his face gently. Reaching over, his hands moved over Harrison’s body to touch him. Fingers pushed beneath the hem of his soft shirt and ran over the slight curve of his side. He’d always been lithe and drinking more than he ate didn’t help to put any weight on him. Jackson partially wished he was a little softer, that he provided more for him to grab onto and touch. But that didn’t stop Jackson from latching onto him exactly how he was.

It felt like they spent hours like that, kissing and touching slowly. Jackson never thought he’d be in a situation like this, not in reality. He’d imagined it plenty of times, sure. He only pulled away from Harrison when Matt was walking back into the living room. The lube was handed over to him, half empty and in a colorful bottle. His eyebrows furrowed when Matt tilted Harrison’s head to the side, kissing him gently. Harrison’s mouth opened easily for Matt, whining as he kissed him. Jackson was about to say something before Matt pulled away and kissed him instead. 

Matt was warm and messy as he kissed him, nothing like Harrison was. He let Matt have his fun for a moment or two. But he didn’t genuinely want to kiss him. Kissing didn’t mean anything when it came to Matt, Jackson didn’t want to kiss him and he knew Matt kissed everyone. After a few seconds, he pushed Matt away from him and watched him pout about being shoved off. Jackson wanted to laugh at how pathetic he looked sulking around about it. 

“Don’t be fucking weird, man. I’m not Ryan,” Jackson murmured out and Matt managed to look even more hurt. He knew it was a sensitive spot, but honestly, that’s why he went for it. It sounded messed up, but he wanted Matt to be hurt by his words. And it worked. It didn’t feel fulfilling, so he simply turned his attention back to Harrison with a smile. “Didn’t forget about you, baby. Let’s go back to my room with Matty, hm?” He offered, knowing Harrison would go along with him easier if Matt was also coming along and that fact made Jackson’s blood boil a little bit.  

*

It felt like hours passed by as Harrison laid on his brother’s bed, clothes discarded all around the floor. Long legs were spread for Jackson and Matt rested beside his head towards the top of the bed, playing with his hair gently. Jackson had wasted no time in preparing Harrison for his cock, eventually having three fingers in him before he was rubbing lube along his dick.  

“You feel so good,” Jackson was breathless as he pushed himself into Harrison, forcing his cock deep into the older man. It ached and hurt as Harrison just laid there, unable to escape the feeling even if he wanted to. But Jackson either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “God,” He paused his movements once he’d bottomed out, giving Harrison some time to adjust to the feeling. Minutes passed and Jackson tried a couple times to move, but every time, Harrison’s face scrunched up in discomfort. Even after adding more lube, Harrison still seemed uncomfortable more than ten minutes later. 

“Fuck,” Jackson grumbled and pulled himself out, clearly upset about the situation. Matt asked him what was wrong as he stood up, digging through his bedside table. “I feel like I’m fucking raping him,” Jackson hissed out. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Harrison always moaned and squirmed for him in his mind, he didn’t just lay there and tense up the entire time. He finally found what he was looking for, grabbing a little baggy of brightly colored pills from the drawer and snatching his water bottle off of the bedside table to hand over to Matt. 

Matt wanted to protest as he took the bag, eyebrows furrowed a bit. He knew this probably wasn’t a good idea, he didn’t know if ecstasy would mix badly with weed and alcohol. But his guess would probably be yes. Jackson seemed irritated and determined, though. He settled back between Harrison’s legs and jerked himself off slowly, just trying to relieve some pressure while he waited. Jackson gave him an expectant look and Matt folded, nodding as he opened the bag to take one out.

“Sit up for me, babe. Come on,” Matt murmured and helped Harrison raise himself up, supporting him so he didn’t fall back over. His fingers pressed into Harrison’s mouth and the pill was deposited onto his tongue. “You’re gonna want to drink water with this one,” He laughed humorlessly. The bottle was raised to his lips and Harrison was grateful for something hydrating rather than more alcohol. He gulped quickly, swallowing the pill against his better judgment. “Easy. We don’t want you puking,” Matt rubbed his hair gently, trying to calm him down a bit. 

“What was that?” Harrison asked after he’d taken it, the alcohol and weed in his system clouding his decision making. He knew he shouldn’t have taken it, especially before knowing what it was, especially when he was already in such a bad spot. Jackson’s hand was back on him, rubbing at his bare thigh gently. His only comfort was Matt playing with his hair. Matt pressed a kiss to his temple and he found himself leaning into it, he trusted Matt even though he was helping Jackson. 

“It was just something to make you feel good, okay?” Jackson spoke for Matt and Harrison would rather hear it from the blonde, but he nodded slowly. Jackson’s fingers felt nice on his leg, warm and grounding him back to the moment, and he tried to focus on that. “Don’t you wanna feel good?” Harrison nodded at the words and when his unfocused eyes found Jackson’s face, the younger man was smiling brightly at him. “Good. Lay back down for me, baby. Let’s lay down for a minute,” He encouraged and Matt helped move Harrison back onto the bed again, resting his head against the pillows. 

*

Time had passed. As Harrison laid flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, that was all he knew for sure. Between the weed mixed with alcohol and whatever he had taken, time felt weird. It could have been five minutes or five hours that he laid there, feeling like his body was too heavy to move. His heart was racing and he wanted to move so badly. He felt restless and giddy after a while, smiling up into space a bit and feeling like all his nerves were lit up. Matt had disappeared back into his own room at some point and Harrison hardly missed him now that the drugs had hit him. 

“Oh, God. Your h-hands,” Harrison choked out when Jackson spread his thighs apart, every touch feeling way too intense now. But he didn’t protest or squirm as he was spread and fingers worked their way back into him. Jackson seemed to think he’d had enough time to get ready, three fingers burying themselves back in Harrison’s hole and immediately moving around. 

“You’re so wet for me,” Jackson breathed out helplessly, sounding like he was barely holding himself back. His fingers stretched and jabbed deeper, trying to make it easier when his dick slid back inside. He didn’t want to have to fight Harrison on it again. “You want my cock so bad, huh? I know you’re just scared it’ll feel too good. Don’t wanna get addicted to the feeling of your baby brother’s cock, is that it? I know you want me,” Jackson rambled on, pulling his fingers out quickly. 

He muttered a quick sorry to Harrison for not being able to stand fingering him any longer. Harrison was already stretched out, he reasoned, but he still wanted to take time to take him apart one day. Another time, he promised himself. One shaky hand wrapped around the base of his cock and stroked himself slowly. Time moved slowly as he rubbed the head of his cock against Harrison’s soft skin, twitching every time it caught on the rim of his hole. Jackson took a deep breath and decided not to wait any longer, pushing himself back inside of the older man. 

“Oh, fuck. You’re so selfish,” Jackson told him once he was buried completely inside of Harrison, giving him a couple moments to adjust to the feeling of being stretched out. “I can’t believe you wanted to hold out on me,” His hips began moving slowly, fighting every instinct that begged him to just use Harrison. Wide eyes looked up at him and Jackson wanted to ruin his older brother. "Fuck, Harry. You feel fucking perfect,” He murmured out and Harrison gasped when he shoved his hips in a little rougher than he’d meant to. But Jackson was slowly losing control. 

“That felt so good,” Harrison breathed and that was all the permission Jackson needed. He readjusted his grasp on his older brother and put all his energy into fucking him. This time, Harrison was much more responsive and it did nothing except encourage Jackson. If Harrison was enjoying this, he wasn’t going to hold himself back. He groaned almost every time he completely bottomed out inside of Harrison, nearly overcome with how good it felt to finally get to fuck the other man. “You’re so deep,” Jackson smiled, pressing a quick kiss to Harrison’s mouth. 

“Feels good, huh? Love getting to stretch you out,” Jackson had done a pretty good job at stretching him out with his fingers, but he knew his cock wasn’t small by any means. He was long enough to hit every spot, but he was also thick and had struggled a bit to fit himself inside when he first fucked into Harrison. Fingers clawed weakly at Jackson’s back and he let out a shaky breath at the feeling. This moment was everything he’d always imagined and a little bit more. 

Jackson pressed his face close to the side of Harrison’s neck, burying himself in the warm smell of cologne still clinging to the older man’s skin. It was familiar and comforting, and he never wanted to leave this moment. He could die there and he’d be happy. Harrison was making so much noise under him and every noise seemed to burrow its way into his mind. He’d never stop thinking of this moment, he was prepared for that. It terrified him, the idea sex would never be as good after Harrison, but he’d never have to sleep with anyone else if he had any luck. 

His hand slipped down in between them, moving his body up enough so he had room to wrap a hand around Harrison’s cock. Jackson knew his own orgasm was quickly approaching and he’d be damned if he got off before Harrison did. He wanted this to be as good for Harrison as it possibly could, hoping maybe if it was enough fun, he would want to keep doing this with Jackson. Harrison’s body jolted as though he was being electrocuted and he looked at Jackson with wide eyes. 

A small smile met Harrison’s eyes when he looked to Jackson, being reassured everything was okay and he could handle it. The pleasure was so intense it almost made him cry. He wasn’t sure if it was Jackson or the mix of drugs and alcohol, but it felt like this was the first time he’d ever been jerked off. Everything felt like it was new again and he could get addicted to that feeling. He was cursing and crying out as his body was bombarded with pleasure. Jackson jerked him off in rhythm to his sharp thrusts, burying himself deep inside of Harrison with every upward stroke. It took him a minute to find any sort of good rhythm, the alcohol and weed still affecting his own system, but he eventually did find one that worked. Harrison didn’t seem to mind it either way, head tilted back. 

“I feel like I’m gonna die,” Harrison choked out, his words slurring together. His heart was racing and he could hear it thumping in his ears. Every inch of his skin felt heated up, seeming to burn alive as he laid under Jackson and let himself feel every moment of pleasure. He was way too high, he realized uselessly. There was nothing he could do to stop that, but at least he was aware of it. It felt good, but it was too much. Everything was too much. “I’m gonna die,” He murmured. 

“I’ve got you. Just try to relax, baby. You’re doing so good,” Jackson promised him, pressing a few small kisses along his throat. He didn’t want Harrison freaking out and having a bad time, trying to keep him calm and relaxed. His movements didn’t slow down, hips angling up to hit Harrison’s prostate, fingers curling around the head of his cock with every upward thrust. 

“Christ!” Harrison cried out suddenly, the word ringing in Jackson’s ears. It was so loud, so sudden, it startled him a bit. Harrison’s orgasm had snuck up on him, giving himself no time to warn it was coming before it hit. When Jackson hit his prostate, it had shoved him over the edge and tears burned in his eyes at the overstimulating feeling. His body was tight as he came, tears leaking out as he spilled over his stomach and Jackson’s hand. “Fuck, fuck, Jackson. Fuck,” He repeated shakily. 

“Fuck, baby. You’re….Shit, you’re killing me. Fuck,” Jackson muttered as he continued fucking Harrison, chasing his own release selfishly now. He knew Harrison wouldn’t be able to handle the sensation for much longer and he wanted to finish before getting to that point. It wouldn’t be much longer, he knew it. He’d already been so close and with Harrison tight around him, body trembling, he was getting even closer. “Goddammit,” He swore quietly, the hand that was around Harrison’s cock tightened around his middle to pull him closer. 

Holding Harrison as close as he could get him, Jackson finally came after a few more thrusts. He worked himself through it, continued to thrust inside as he emptied into him. Suddenly, he remembered he’d forgone wearing a condom, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. If anything, it only made the situation hotter. He’d always had a thing for barebacking and creampies, the idea that he was filling Harrison up made him shiver. Despite everything, Harrison really was his.

[the1975attheirverybest]

You're so sweet to matty about the ghetto gaggers thing all things considered 😅 i don't think critiquing racism and racist fetishes is kink shaming and racism doesn't become okay just because someone gets off on it. You seem a little nervous to critique it so I just wanted to come in here and say it's okay if you're not cool with that whole thing<3 no one is gonna think you're bad or shaming or anything 🫶 (also not trying to start shit about matty i still want that man in my guts every day of the week and twice on sunday)

Thanks for the encouragement. But, I’m not sure it’s that. Like, I don’t know if I’m nervous to critique Matty. I’m usually fine doing so, when I think it warrants criticism. It’s more that racialized “kink” isn’t a subject that I have given much thought to. I’m also not a black woman. (I’m Arab American but also find the designated ‘white’ label for us middle eastern folks kinda fucked up since it was solidified by a 70s court case that wanted Jesus to be white, lmao. That’s a whole separate issue.) so, I’m can’t speak on it with confidence, you know? If I’m gonna call someone out, I better have thought it through. And there were enough problematic jokes made in that pod that I WOULD call him out on, but this one didn’t come from him.

I’m just thinking out loud here, so lmk what y’all think! About the think thing, I mean. I think that it’s a tad fucked up for a white guy to be into “black women on white men” shit because I’m instantly thinking “why specifically black women? Are you exoticizing and fetishizing blackness”? Isn’t that kind of dehumanizing? Especially if it’s kinky stuff that includes a lot of physical pain (listen, I’m gonna be too much on the internet and confess that I am myself a submissive and a masochist, so I am not judging anyone who wants that shit)? At the same time, saying no to that kind of thing categorically sounds like I’m saying black women should not participate in BDSM sex films cuz they’re racist. That seems extreme to me. (Setting aside the fact that the adult film industry is itself problematic for sooo many reasons).

Then it gets even more dicey cuz what if you’re in an interracial couple. It’s normal to want the adult films that you consume to reflect your reality. You find your partner sexy doesn’t mean that you exclusively find all people of their race sexy.

I guess I’m saying I find white men who have a “black woman fetish” suspect but I think the issue is more nuanced than that and it’s hard to split hairs and make generalizations about the whole category. I’m not comfortable saying this specific type of kink shouldn’t exist at all. But I am comfortable saying that I got my eyes on you and I’m suspicious of you if you’re a white man who’s into it, lol.

NOW, back to Matty….he didn’t make the joke himself. It was the co-host. It COULD BE that the cohost simply said it to be provocative and gross. Given that a lot of the jokes that they made, both the hosts AND Matty, were racist and gross. Maybe he wasn’t thinking about Matty’s relatively recent breakup with Twigs. But maybe he was. I don’t know. But that’s hardly a situation that we can debate. So, I find it iffy.

As for the lyric “cumming to her lookalikes.” Maybe that’s what he had in mind, idk? But he probably would’ve said the same thing if she weren’t black? He’d just be watching women people porn and find someone who looks like his ex and jack off to that instead? That line is up for interpretation. I will admit that I might be biased, simply because POTB is one of my fav 1975 tracks. And, I do think that Matty has a way of making the complex crude as a rhetorical style. He does it all the time. “Eating stuff off of motorbikes” and “he would get him cooked animals” and “you took a picture of your salad and put it on the internet”

If he has said “eating stuff from delivery” the line wouldn’t be as BRUTAL, you know? Or if he has said “the internet would get him food through the click of a button” it’s not gonna hit the same way that “cooked animals” does. Or “you uploaded a picture of your meal to Instagram” not the same effect as “put it on the internet” so, the line “cumming to her lookalikes” could just mean he’s watching porn and thinking of her. Or he’s sleeping with people who look like her cuz he can’t have her. I’m not gonna take issue with that line just cuz of the way it’s phrased. But that’s just MY way of thinking about it. I respect everyone’s right to interpret things differently and I will not tell someone what they should pr shouldn’t be offended by.

Does any of this make sense? Yeah, let me know if I’m insane please lmao

[goldlighter]

𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

over the years, chris’ romantic and sexual life has been almost non-existent. this is the product of several things - the fact he is constantly working, that he’s often out on the field fighting for his life and the lives of others and too busy trying not to die as well a lack of confidence when it comes to romance, a growing disinterest in anything sexual, and the inability to understand or read flirtation and attraction from potential lovers ( obliviousness and an effect of his mental health issues both ).  often, any interest shown in him regarding sexuality and romance will not be picked up on and dismissed as casual conversation - it requires bluntness to get the point across to him - and usually it will be rejected because he has ‘better’ things to do which is usually work. it has been a long, long time since he’s been on a date since 1998, to be exact, and whilst everything chris does tends to stem from love, he rarely sets time aside for romance. 

chris is a very, very closeted bisexual ( a one on the kinsey scale -  predominantly heterosexual, only incidentally homosexual ) and carries a lot of internalized homophobia - not regarding anyone but himself, he could care less about the sexualities of others, but is uncomfortable in admitting he is anything but the all-american straight white macho man people assume him to be. he has always been uncomfortable regarding his own sexuality, but over the years it has grown worse. this is from the lack of physical intimacy ( despite not having it, he does miss it - chris is a sexual person, enjoys sex, but has gone without for so long he now has several self-confidence issues regarding it ) and the fact that for him, it has always been a subject meant to be kept private - between himself and his partner ( he doesn’t really want to hear about what his friends/soldiers/team have been up to in bed, and doesn’t want to talk about his experiences or lack of either ). combined with his physical and health issues, it’s something he tends to avoid.

in his youth, he had a string of girlfriends - all of them were brief flings, no emotional attachment on either end, but not as many as he’d boast about ( the ego of a hormonal twenty-something boy in the prime of his life, with a gun and a military record doesn’t want to be seen as someone who gets rejected by pretty girls ) often boasting to his fellow friends in s.t.a.r.s about his romantic endeavours - half of which were true. experimentation sexually was brief and short, uncomfortable with the idea - he’d been touchy-feely with a man before, but eventually backed out, nervous and drunk, doing it for attention rather than anything else. he was never the best lover, but what he lacked in talent he made up for in enthusiasm.

this is no longer the case. if he is having a sexual relationship with someone, he’s awkward - will constantly ask for consent, will make sure everything is going the way it should be, that they’re enjoying it, doubting himself. it’s something he’s no longer used to, and the very mention of anything sexual  ( if meant, he can deal with crude jokes or off-hand comments, usually ) will have his ears going red and an uncomfortable shift in his disposition. still, he’s an enthusiastic and dedicated lover, more concerned with his partners pleasure than his own. this too, comes from the self-hatred he bears ( why should he enjoy sex after everything he’s done? ) the feelings of guilt usually so present that they spill over into other aspects of his life. this, combined with the internalized homophobia on the fact he might be anything but what he’s “supposed” to be makes even masturbation a miserable affair - it’s enjoyable, briefly, but then he hates himself for it and so does not actively seek out sexual intimacy with other people or himself often, if at all.

getting him to talk about it is an unlikely event, too. the only time you’ll hear of chris’ romantic and sexual activities is if you’re the one he’s doing it with - he’s a private person in many aspects, despite the big heart, and likes to keep things to himself ( too stubborn to realise maybe talking about his issues could help get rid of them ). if you manage to break through to that though, he’s extremely appreciative in the moment, touches like he’s worshipping a marble statue with adoration. it’s all emotional for him nowadays, and the idea of no-strings-attached sex is something he can’t get into - it has to mean something to him, and it always does, whether he admits it or not.

[akaraboonline]

Before You Sleep With Him, Here's How to Tell If He'll Be Good in Bed

You've recently started dating someone new who you really like. You even had a few flirtatious make-out sessions. As a result, it's natural to be curious about the next step. Maybe you're hoping he'll be good in bed because everything has been going so well so far. Will he meet your expectations? Before You Sleep With Him, Here's How to Tell If He'll Be Good in Bed

What Makes A Guy Good In Bed?

While everyone has different sexual kinks and preferences. What makes you happy may not make the next person happy. However, there are a few major points on which almost everyone can agree. To be good in bed, a guy doesn't have to give you earth-shattering orgasms. He does need to listen, ask for permission, be respectful, and put forth effort. Aside from that, it's the little things that count.

Signs He’s Probably Great At Sex

He’s extremely attentive to your needs. If he is a very attentive person, this will most likely be reflected in other aspects of your relationship. By attentive, I mean that he pays attention to you when you speak. He looks after you by pulling your chair out of a restaurant. When you're both out walking, he notices when you're cold and offers you his jacket. It's the little things, but trust me when I say they're about to add up to something big. He tries to make you feel comfortable during conversation When it comes to listening, he doesn't just sit there. He also responds in a way that gives you the impression that he genuinely cares about you and your needs. Does he understand when you tell him sad stories about your past? Is he amused by your (not-so-funny) jokes? Does he actively seek to make you feel good at all times? Can you imagine how hard he'll try to make you feel good in the bedroom if he tries so hard to make you feel this good during conversation? He makes the conversation about you.  Even when he's talking or telling a story about his past, he tries to bring the attention back to you. Alternatively, he keeps you interested by asking you questions about what he's just said. Why? Maybe he's just completely smitten with you. When you're obsessed with someone, you'll go to any length to please them. This is a true story. He’s a good communicator. He'll be great in bed if he's good at communicating both when you're together and when you're apart. After all, good sex is more than just the moves. It's about being able to express what you like (and don't like quite as much). Openness and honesty are essential! He makes intense eye contact with you.  When you think back on the men you've dated, the ones who seem to be trying to burn a hole in your soul are the best lovers. If a man couldn't look you in the eyes or kept looking away during a conversation, he was unsure and awkward in bed. As a result, if your guy looks at you in a way that gives you butterflies, this is a good sign. He’s very tactile. This does not imply that he is constantly picking on you and making you feel like he's hornier than a pubescent boy. That is, he understands when and where to show you affection. If he doesn't give too much away but also doesn't hold back, it's a sure sign he'll be a class-A lover. He has a quiet confidence.  Similarly, if he isn't one of these guys who makes crude sexual innuendos in (what seems like) every conversation, this is a good sign. These types of guys, in our experience, talk a lot because they're trying to compensate for what they have to offer. On the other hand, if the guy you're dating exudes a quiet confidence that is mysterious but intriguing, you should be ecstatic about what's to come. He doesn’t push you into sex. He lets the tension build naturally and waits for the right moment to strike. Why? Because he's that certain of his abilities. He knows the next step will be fantastic, and he'll deliver when you get around to it. He’s an amazing kisser. Finally, if he's a 10 out of 10 in the make-out department, that's one of the most telling signs that he'll be good in bed. After all, if he can kiss you like that, imagine what he can do to you in the bedroom. Kissing is also a good indicator of his level of experience. And the more he does it, the better he gets at kissing — and doing the dirty. Read the full article

[freshairforrabbits]

Taking your word for it re fanfiction asks, so: 1, 7, 9 (for your Hostel fic that deserves more love), 10 (again Hostel), 17, 21, 25, 27, 28, 36, 41, 44, 45, 47, 48, 49. Your made up title to write a summary for is "i need no introduction (welcome to the greatest show)" from skins by the Haunting, which I have been listening to on repeat over the past few days.

Thank you for asking all of these ❤️ and also for making me discover that song because it is so fucking good!!!

1)Since I can remember! At toddler age and maybe even a bit before, my mom would let me and the siblings draw all over these little blank picture books she would staple together. She would then ask what the story was about so she could write it down on each page, and I was already making up new endings to whatever media I could understand like Bug's Life, Jurassic Park, PBS kids shows. If that doesn't count as fanfic though– then I seriously buckled down to write my first one when I was 10, with pencil and paper, and then 22 for actually finishing one and posting it on AO3

7) anytime after 9pm 

9) oh fuck that's a tough one, I'd say in Jagten it's the parts with Paxton stumbling around the Elite Hunting Clubs killing floor, because in the movie that's one of my favorite scenes where Paxton calls Natalya a bitch and then she's like, 'they paid me a lot of money for you. That makes you my bitch.' Just getting to write her seeing his shock and disgust and fear was fun as hell. 

10) I was going to actually go all the way up to some plotline where she does kill him (since Paxton is killed in the Hostel universe I figured Natalya becoming a hunter to do the honors instead would've been so badass of her, despite Paxton being a favorite in his own right he's just very killable), but then I figured it'd be far better to start things off sort of where they began with the fic. Natalya and Paxton facing each other down except this time the resolution is up in the air, and Paxton has no idea that she's coming for him. 

17) The girl, she made a deal, he remembers it now, to save the ghosts she'd come to see as friends, as more parents than her own, sacrificing herself to a crude entity of booze, sex, and filth;

beetlejuicebeetlejuicebeetlejuice.

21) If we are talking about outside of AO3 then that would be god, this would be a lot of people both within AO3 and outside of AO3, hm, I really admire this one author who wouldn't you know shares the same name as you! All jokes aside, so much of the fics I've been writing and making lately have been directly inspired by your writing and so I can't help but admire the fuck out of the absolute range of your writing and the ability you have to tackle so many different styles and characters!

25) Yes! Although I can't give any specific examples, I just know I have, and it's usually when writing super hopeful bits after writing a bunch of incredibly harrowing sequences.

27) I make outlines! They're typically very long too and constantly get changed around and shifted and even deleted and rewritten many times. The outline for pretty boy is 40k on any given day and most of that will not actually be what's finally written it's just excerpts and scenes that don't quite work but pieces of them could be stitched together for something better 

28) There isn't exactly anything I'm doing super different now then when I first started! But I wish I'd known to never touch general fandom Tumblr or Twitter or social media (and especially Discord Servers) with a ten foot pole when I started posting, that'll destroy your motivation to write faster than anything, not to mention it gets in your head about characterization and whatever else; like just write!! Just write and don't look at what other people are saying because it is not worth it unless they're fellow authors you have a rapport with 

36) Selfcest-Daddy-Son Carnival Ride of Grooming and Sexual Battery from Fucking Hell; Oh and don't forget the maybe-baby! (not sure if that's the spoiler that questions asking for but dfghhjjj)

41) Probably Natalya from Hostel and Natália from 3% in an unfinished wip but she's not exactly a minor character imo, just under appreciated 

44) (You fight, you rip into him, you eat him alive, fangs sunk through the muscle of lips, colonel's cum, corporal's blood swapped between you, ouroboros, you—)

45) Sheer mental illness, literally nothing else makes me write 30k in two weeks more than a sudden burst of energy and nigh delusional thinking which inevitably leads to a cycle of crashing and burning but fuck it we ball nothing else gets me clearing out those wips faster. That and one of the core elements of experiential therapy emphasizes learning to express through writing so that definitely keeps me going too since the more I write the more I can take with me to a session even if the content isn't relevant, it's all about processing a vast array of situations and emotions and intrusive thoughts through playing with little figures in the sandbox of a word document.

47) "i need no introduction (welcome to the greatest show)" this is going to be such a boring answer but for a title like this nothing better comes to mind then that idea you mentioned about Recom Jake being captured by the Na'vi. Just something about how he'd be putting on his best performance for them, all Loki stuck in a glass cage style or something, knowing oJake is freaked the hell out by him and then everything to do with Spider would be such a fucking mess. And good God that song is a banger!! (I am now listening to it on repeat as well while writing haha) I'm notoriously shit with creating summaries on the spot so apologies for not being able to make one up :'') 

48) Imprisonment. Bottom line, I don't know if that's a trope per se? But a character, specifically the protagonist or the biggest baddie of the fandom getting mind-breaked in a cell I pretty much write for every fandom I have ever been in and probably will continue to do so. 

49) Warrior Cats Truth or Dare on FFnet, it was a crackfic that had me dying laughing as a kid I remember reading it every night before bed in elementary school. Very fun, and it is why I love a good crackfic to this day

[palatial-monstrosity]

Jokes aside here is my theory abt Hannibal's Leda and the Swan painting *sits on desk and points at the blackboard*

Hannibal could have picked literally 1) any other myth from classical Greece 2) any other painting of Leda, but he picked that one. Why?

Well, Hannibal is a literate man, with a deep knowledge of "classical" culture, the epitome of the western academic, so the idea of a painting portraying a myth from Ancient Greece fits - it's considered the foundation of western culture, the cradle of democracy, and so on. But not only the subject is, well, erotic, but also immensely taboo - that might be Zeus, but our eyes see a swan, not a god: sex with animals. Something reminiscent of old cave paintings, dressed up in fancy scenery and clothes.

What Hannibal is saying is that under our pretense of High Culture we tend to forget that there's a lot of stuff in western culture we would like to forget about. We look at statues and paintings in awe and forget that they portray erotic, sad or cruel episodes.

Hannibal doesn't. First, he wants to make people uncomfortable by making them think about all these repressed feelings - from eroticism to violence - and we could say he devoted his life to letting people express them.

Second, do you know what else Europeans practiced for centuries, from kings to peasants, and then as modern science was born, hastily buried under the carpet pretending it never happened? That's it, baby, cannibalism. Medicinal cannibalism was the norm for centuries, the same Renaissance that produced stunning artworks also ground up skull dust to serve with wine. They tried to forget this, just as they tried to forget the literal, crude, erotic reality of myths and stories.

But Hannibal doesn't let that happen. You were cannibals like me, he says.

The king is naked, says Hannibal by showing them Leda naked in full detail. The king is naked and ready to be devoured.

[yinses]

substitute

| you told yourself that you would do anything for satoru |

gojo satoru x reader

rating: 18+

a/n: i have an obsession i know. i’m working on it

it was to a soft tickling at the inside of your thighs that welcomed you into the next day. a soft sigh broke through your yawn as you shifted and twisted against the desires tugging at your veins. 

somewhere in your mind, you registered that it was much too early. 

but of course your body disagreed tenfold. 

“ngh…” an equally tired chuckle vibrates against you and you jumped at the touch of a thumb brushing against your outer lips. 

“the was a cute sound,” the voice purred. your hips lifted once more in reaction before they were assisted into submission by the firm weight of a forearm along your pelvis. 

the sounds of your slick sliding against his tongue were as equally loud as it was lewd. there was no art to the madness, just a series of flicks and heavy suction. 

your fingers clenched at the sheets, wrinkling the integrity as your chest heaved with every moan. in terms of wake up calls, the impending shrill of your alarm easily took last place. 

“you are always such a sight to wake up to. thought i’d return the favor.” 

and return it he did. 

the insertion of a finger freed up the opportunity for his voice to waft around the room again. the rhythm was as languid as his lazy drawl as he bent a joint and raked the nail against your inner walls. 

“i also might need a favor.”

the pinch of your brow came before the comprehension of his words. gojo was always a talker- a stronger contender as a firm charmer that managed to weave his way through society. as his position as ‘the chosen one’, his power spoke volumes. 

with you- he leaned on alternative methods. 

“fuck-toru… you bastard.”

you choked over the inclusion of a second finger, barely swallowing your words as you struggled to rock into them. 

“that’s not very nice of you. to think i woke up so early to treat you this morning.

your boyfriend took the opportunity to curl both fingers this time, smirking when you all but managed to successful buck him off as you keened under his ministrations. 

“it’s nothing big.” turquoise eyes, tinged with lust, met yours as he rose his head. the blanket fell off his shoulders, revealing more pale skin. “i just need a bit of a substitute today.” 

substitute? as in substitute teacher? he had to be joking. 

unlike gojo, after graduation you had more than willingly left behind the stuffy atmosphere of education. as a sorcerer, you never did stop learning. the always evolving curses not letting you hang too far off your game. 

but to return to the classroom to put those young students through everything you hated in your youth? 

no orgasm was worth that.

you disguised your grimace under the pretense of displeasure as he withdrew his hand all together. he tsked at your impatience, using the same hand as a crude form of lube as he fisted his growing cock. 

“it will be easy. these classes are even smaller than ours were.”

 it was difficult to voice a complaint when he was doing just the opposite and sliding into you. your back arched as he filled you to the hilt with little difficulty. 

he experimented with a shallow thrust, a grin pulling at his lips when you responded positively. the pace he set was slower than either of you were use to on a regular basis, but it fit the mood of morning sex. 

his forehead touched yours as he drew back for another long thrust. “shit-squeezing me so early. what a good girl.”

you whimpered when his hips met yours with more force than the last. “think of how excited they’ll be to have a new face. such a sexy one at that.” 

your body slid along the mattress each time he buried himself within you. you didn’t want to admit that he was getting to you. not even his all seeing gaze needed to retell the obvious. his plan was flawless and in short you were too much of a simp for the man.

so you just accepted the early morning distraction, taking direct pleasure in the way it unraveled the tangle of sleep.

you clenched your inner muscles helpfully and your boyfriend groaned in appreciation as he chased both of your releases with new vigor. the twitching and shakiness began with you as the pace picked up. your climax tumbled out of you with a sharp gasp as your boyfriend filled the space with a grunt. 

the two of you took a minute to regain your before he eventually pulled out and you pointedly ignored the stickiness as you relaxed your legs to give him the room to pull away. he didnt stray too far, white locks tickling your nose as he leaned in close again.

“i have more in store for you tonight as a thank you.”

with a huff, you pressed your palm against his cheek before his lips could chase yours. 

“fine, fine. i’ll babysit your class. you better be on some super important mission.”

gojo made a pleased sound, somewhere stuck between a hum and a warm rumble as he nuzzled the side of your neck and pressed his lips there instead. 

“super important. thanks babe.”

                                          you don’t know why you agreed to this. 

leaning back against the desk, you returned the silent gesture as the three first-years scrutinized your presence. aside from megumi, the other two were new faces for you. but your boyfriend’s knack for storytelling painted the picture in the absence of words. 

nobara was obvious. the sole girl of the unit. 

poor girl. 

she seemed to share your sentiment of wanting to be anywhere else but here. 

“so you’re dating sensei?”

you brought your arms closer to your chest as your shoulders rose with the action. 

was that … judgement?

“i’m so sorry.”

it was the sincerity that scared you the most. 

“oh wow, wow, wow. sensei’s really got it all. “

sukuna’s vessel was impossible to miss as any seasoned sorcerer. despite the boy’s positive demeanor, he reeked of the malevolent residue. yet in a way he made it work, there was nothing really about him that didn’t come off as approachable. 

he had something to gain gojo’s infatuation. there was no doubt in your mind that he would use this boy to help him dismantle the systematic hierarchy of the sitting elders. 

you just had to wonder. 

was the kid his main tool or the curse?

“i can’t believe you actually agreed to this.”

ah, megumi. 

the boy liked to express his love for distance, but the years swallowed up so much of it as you watched him grow. your boyfriend was a lot of things but you couldn’t deny the influence he had on the young sorcerer. 

the boy who seemed to disdain the attention knew it too. 

now that everyone had their turn to speak, you supposed it was your turn. 

“he was very convincing,” you offered lowly before picking up the volume. “let’s not pretend you’re actually going to learn anything from me. im just a sit in until satoru gets back from his mission.”

megumi’s scoff shouldn’t have come as a surprise. gojo’s name was rarely spoken without it’s accompaniment. 

“what makes you think he’s not off sightseeing?”

because killing gojo was impossible but you would happily tire yourself exploring your options. 

your smile was tight as you gestured to the door,” lets kick the morning off with some practice matches. the second years are always eager.”

settled comfortably against the bleachers observing as your temporary students got their asses handed to them, you came to the conclusion that being a teacher couldn’t be too bad. perhaps in the future you might be more willing to offer your services with out your boyfriend’s extra persuasion.

speaking of gojo, you wondered how his mission was going. you never actually questioned his agenda. 

you didn’t expect to wait long as the dial tone started up. outside of battle and life or death situations, gojo rarely ignored your calls. he knew in the thick of it you could protect yourself, but he preferred to keep himself available to your needs. 

the sounds of mixed commotion greeted you before his voice did. 

“toru … it sounds busy. where are you?”

gojo’s answering laugh should have been the first warning. to some it may have come off as eased but you could hear the way he forced it in to deflect. 

“sweetheart, how are classes going? i hope they’re not giving you too much trouble.”

trouble seemed to be the opposite of what he was dealing with. there were a lot of people holding their own conversations in the background, all of them too casual to be in danger. in fact, there were too many in general to place him on a battlefield. 

what exactly were you substituting for?

“order #217 for… gogo-san?”

the loud cluck of your tongue against the roof of your mouth was suddenly powerful enough to drown out the clamor. 

gojo satoru prided himself on standing resilient to all threats. it was how he maintained his position as the strongest. he was sought out for his efficiency and ability to overcome all adversaries. 

even against the most fearsome.

“honey, do i ever have a treat for you! today was a single-day special at my favorite bakery. you should have seen the lines. it's a good thing i got here so early!”

there were a lot of things you would do for satoru gojo.

and even more that you would do to him when you got home.

[obsessive-ego]

Love me, love me, say that you love me

Musical beetlejuice x fem reader

Beej hits you with a love potion to get you to confess you love him, it goes wrong

Dubious consent, nsft, nothing serious happens, you know me

"Satisfaction guaranteed..." the ghoul mumble to himself as he read the label of the bottle he was holding.

Beetlejuice, you're undead demonic, freeloader of a roommate, had just come back from a quick trip to the netherworld, and unlike his other trips, it wasnt for business, but pleasure, a quick shopping trip while you were out of the house.

"For the chunk of change you cost, it better" the ghoul smiled, pink streaks creeping into his hair.

In his hands was a pink bottle shaped like a human heart, a perfume type atomizer spray bottle.

Beetlejuice KNEW you liked him, but he also knew you were a coward about it, yes your shyness was cute, and the way you danced around this fact did have its charms, but the time has come for you to spit it out, you had to make the first move, not him.

Yes the demon could charm you, but you wouldnt take him seriously, he knew that, beetlejuice knew his flirting towards you and his advances towards you were seen as a joke, and why wouldnt it, he knew he couldnt be taken seriously, he took every chance he had to make a crude joke, why would anyone take him seriously, so he played it up to get you to smile, or even to get you embarrassed was also nice.

But today was different, today beetlejuice was gonna get you to say "I love you" albeit with force, but that was something he could live/die with.

The ghoul, now buzzing electric pink and green ready's himself at the door, waiting for his sweet breather to come in him trap.

You were on your way back from the post office to pick up a package that you or beej werent home to sign for, it was just some clothes, nothing too exciting, but a nice excuse to get out of the house for a nice walk, as much as you loved spending time with your undead friend, who you may or may not have a crush on, it was nice to have some alone time.

You walk into you apartment complex and slowly make it back to your flat, you fumble with your keys as you unlock the door, the soft jingle and muffled cursing was a great single to beetlejuice that you were home, the ghoul takes a deep breath, not that he needed too, and gets into position, readying the bottle's nozzle to the level of your face.

"I'm home-" was all you got out before receiving a face full of god knows what, you prayed it was water, wiping your face and rubbing your eyes, you didnt need to see who the culprit was for this shitty joke, pulling your hands from your face, you saw the demon standing infront of you, arms stretched out in a pre hug position, eyes closed, lips puckered, slightly leaning towards you.

Your anger quickly faded, but was replaced with confusion, you say nothing but only stare at the ghoul.

Seconds pass, beetlejuice opens on eye to see what the hold up was, was there a delay with the potion? Does it take a minute to kick in? Or was it a peice of junk?

Beetlejuice drops his awkward position, and smooths back his hair, trying to hide to spots the purple trying to emerge.

"So y/n, welcome home" he starts off shaky "you feel okay? Maybe a little warmer? Heart beating a little faster? Maybe even a little eager to jump someone or tell them something deep?" Subtle

"What are you talking about? Beetlejuice what the hell was that about?!" You huff

The ghoul is taken back by your tone, he was expecting you to be more soft, after a spray of that crap, he scowls glancing down to the bottle in his hands, waste of money, unless, he drops his scowl and focuses back to you, a sly smile plastered across his face.

"Just some netherworld perfume, very popular stuff, thought I'd surprise my favorite breather with it"

"Suprise is right" you grumble walking passed him, heading to the living room you place your things on the table, beetlejuice was quick to follow.

"How bout another try babes? I promise I wont get ya in the face, though I prefer to squirt ya in the face~"

"I dont know bee, I'm not that really into perfume" you shurg

Beetlejuice frowns and huffs out his nose, for what he paid for this peice of shit he wasnt gonna give up after one shot.

"Come on babes, do it for your good pal~" he pleads

You frown in response

"Okay sugar, you know regardless of what you say I'm gonna get what I want, so just play ball"

"Fine" you grumble, you can always take a shower later, hell you were going to anyway, your face felt gross after being hit by that stuff earlier.

The demon's face lights up at your answer, you held out your wrist as an indicator that you wanted to be sprayed their and were ready for it, though that wish was completely ignored, as the ghoul quickly leans forward and sprays you in the face again.

The ghoul stares at you praying to whatever and whoever for this to work, you turn away from the demon, curse under your breath and rub at your face.

As you rub your face beetlejuice goes back into position, arms stretched out, lips puckered, ready to receive your love, and hoping you wont banish him if this didnt work.

Moving your hands from your face you let out sigh, you jolt feeling a familiar twinge in your lower reigns, a desperate pulse for attention, you could feel your heart racing, your head was swimming, turning to face the ghoul, the second you laid your eyes on him the pulsing inbetween your legs intensifies, give let out a soft "bee" before leaping into his arms, slamming your lips into his, and wrapping your legs around his waist. The demon's eyes shoot open at this, his hands were quick to grab onto your rear, a mix of holding you up and feeling you up, his hair bloomed from green to pink in a flash, hell he was so excited his stripes went from black to pink.

"Oh Lawrence" you breathed between kisses, beetlejuice only hummed in response, too lost in this bliss to think.

"Couch?" You whine as you wiggle your hips against his semi.

"Holy crap" he groans, this was really happening, he quickly brought you to the couch, flopping down on his back, having you sit pretty on top of him.

You continue to kiss him, shoving your tongue in his mouth, the ghoul loved you taking charge, he dreamed of it often, he didnt put up a fight and gave you the dominance to explore his mouth, pulling away to breath, a nice line of spit connected the two of you. You move your attention on to the demon's neck, peppering it with kisses and giving the occasional nip at his cold flesh.

Beetlejuice was over the moon with this change in demeanor, who knew his y/n would have it in them, the ghoul purs feeling your hands roam his body, his hands plant firmly on your rear, giving it a small pinch every once and again, everytime you would respond with a whine.

He was in heaven, or as close as an undead demon was gonna get.

You give his tie a tug, as if to ask for permission to continue, beetlejuice moans encouraging you to keep going.

You give the demon a quick kiss on the lips, moving to his jawline, to his neck, as you untie his tie, you toss the garment aside as you start to work on his shirt's buttons, kissing every inch of skin that is slowly revealed.

You move down his body, the demons chest and stomach fully exposed, and kissed, beetlejuice was in a complete daze from your love, but quickly snaps out of it when he feels you palm the tent in his pants.

"Whoa babes-"

"Is this for me?~" you coo "it looks so big~" you sigh giving the tent a light squeeze "it's really hard"

Beetlejuice quickly sits up, stifling a moan.

"Babes, y/n, just hold it-"

"Oh, would you rather be on top?" You ask softly crawling towards him "or would you rather I not use my hands? I can give it a kiss if you want" You crawl back into the demon's arms leaning in for another kiss, you stumble forward as beetlejuice quickly vanished, reappearing a few feet away from you, the demon pulling his shirt together, as if trying to hide himself.

"Let's just take a second here, likes put a pin in this, and ah, just relax" god slash satan this wasnt fair, and maybe 100 percent his fault, here you were drugged out of your mind begging him to have sex with you, jesus all he needed from you was a simple "I love you" not this, but he'll sure be thinking about this later.

"Why dont ya cool down babes, and we can talk about this"

"How can I cool down, when I'm so hot for you" you moan as you  unbutton your shirt, fully exposing your lacy black bra, the demon swallows hard, you slowly stand up letting your shirt fall, your hands traveling behind your back as you unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the floor.

"Oh fuck"  beetlejuice whines in a higher pitch,

You slowly make your way over to him, gently grabbing one of his hands and bringing it to your exposed chest "your hands are so nice and cold, maybe you could help me cool down?"

God slash satan did he wanted to give your boob a nice squeeze, but you're not you right now, he pulls his hand away, then places both of his hands on your shoulders, your skin was hot to the touch. Averting your gaze he clears his throat

"Maybe a cold shower would be help ya out"

"Maybe if you join me" you sigh leaning into the demon's chest, your hands resting on his hips.

"Y/n-"

"Are you sure you dont want help with your 'little friend'?"

Any other time he'd be delighted to have you help, but now was not that time.

"Let's just take a second here babes, we'll fool around later okay, I mean do you have condoms? I dont have any on me, we need protection"  beetlejuice knew he couldnt get you sick or pregnant since he was a dead demon, but you didnt know that. "And besides, no means no, you know that y/n" BJ didnt exactly blame you, you werent in your right mind, you were horny as hell thanks to that stupid potion, of course you couldnt think straight.

You pull away from him, mortified at your pushy behavior "I'm sorry" you breath out "I just, I couldn't help myself Lawrence, you're just, I mean, i just love you so much, my body needed you" you began to cry "you're always saying how much you want me, and how you're "ready to go" all the time, I just thought-" you babbled, tears rolling down your cheeks

I love you

Those 3 little words he ached to hear, not how he wanted to hear them, but this whole thing was a mess.

"Babes, it's okay, I was enjoying it, believe me, it's just that I'm not ready to go all the way with you, let's just give it some time" which wasnt true, if you were willing so was he, willing as in not drugged. "And yeah, I talk a big game, but believe me doll, i want our first time to be special, so Hows bought you go put a top on, and we can put this little mess behind us?" It was an odd day when this harbinger of chaos had to be a voice of reason.

You nodded as you slip away to collect your bra and shirt that were tossed aside, beetlejuice frowns at this situation and wanders off to the item that started it, retrieving the bottle he squints at the label to read the rest of the instructions he didnt bother reading, and their it was, in the fine print 'warning, do not use on the living, results may vary and are not limited to  nausea, drowsiness, intense sexual desires-' he groans then curses.

"Beetlejuice?"

The ghoul turns his attention to you, fully dressed.

"No hard feelings, aside from your, you know"

The demon gives you a soft laugh "no hard feelings babes"

"Could I have a hug? I promise to behave" it's not that the pulsing in your loins stopped, in fact the intensity was stronger now, you just wanted to be close the ghoul before dealing with these feelings alone, there was no harm in that

Beetlejuice pauses for a second, before smiling "alright sugar, bring it in" there was no harm in a hug, sure his dick was still kinda hard, but that's fine.

You walk into the ghoul's arms, slowly circling your own around him, beetlejuice gently pats your back. You nuzzle into his neck, and whisper "I love you Lawrence" before planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

Pulling away from the ghoul, his scent, and touch fresh in your mind you make your way to the bathroom to shower, amongst other things.

If you were to turn back you would have seen a glowing pink Beej who's legs are about to give out

"ARRGHHH! That's worse... They're killing me again!" 

The should of the shower rings through the ghoul's ears, he grumbles as he puts his suit back together, grabbing the bottle that started it all he snaps his fingers and vanishes, off to give the schmuck who sold this to him a peice if his mind.

...

A few hours later beetlejuice reappears into your living room, grumbling to himself as he tucks the bottle into his jacket, no sense tossing it, maybe when the two of you are knocking boots, he could use it as an aphrodisiac, with your consent of course.

"Bee? Is that you?" Your voice rings through your flat, it was late, beetlejuice was hoping youd be asleep when he came back.

The ghoul makes his way to your room.

"Yeah, I had to take care of something"

"I was just about to go to bed" you were sitting on your bed wearing an over sized shirt that just covered your bum, the ghoul's eyes glance about, stopping at your vibrator that was now laying on the floor, he could smell the sex in the air, another time this would have been delightful.

"Do you want to join me? Sleeping? Like you normally do?" You sounded a tad too eager "I mean if you feel comfortable"

Beetlejuice gives you smile "sure" he snaps away his suit, leaving a pair of boxers, seeing your eyes light up was something he had to burn in his brain forever.

You scramble under the covers waiting for the demon to join you, which he promptly did.

"Is it okay if I snuggle with you?" You ask softly

"Anything you want babes" he purred, you quickly snuggle up to him, using his soft chest as a pillow, your hand petting the hair on his stomach.

"If you change your mind, I'm not wearing any panties" you whisper in the demons ear.

This was gonna be a long night

...

Bonus

The next morning beetlejuice woke up to an empty bed, confused he made his way to the living room, and there you were, sitting on the couch with your face in your hands.

"Morning?" He greets you

No response

"Babes?"

Nothing, beetlejuice makes his way to you, sitting down next to you, he places a hand on your shoulder, you flinch.

"Wake up and smell the coffee babycakes-"

"I am so sorry for yesterday, I- i don't know what came over me, i- beetlejuice, I so sorry for putting you into that type of situation, I-" you sobbed

The ghoul's hair quickly bloomed purple, you're blaming yourself for what he did to you "dont worry your pretty little head sweetheart, it was that perfume, how was I supposed to know it messed with breathers, believe me I gave that guy who sold it to me a peice of my mind, my poor little y/n warped and twisted into someone hornier then me" it wasnt all true, but beetlejuice couldnt have you beating yourself up over this, nor did he want to tell you the full truth.

"Really?" You sniffle

"Really"

You lean into the demon and he pulls you into a soft embrace, patting your back.

"How's bout we order some take out and I put a smile on that sweet face of yours?"

You pull away from beetlejuice and rub away your tears "I'd like that"