#i mean my current fic's plot is just about as thin

[shdo-xplosion]

spaghetti straps - r. shidou ࿐

warnings: 2.4k; fem-bodied reader, coercion, reader wants to fuck more than she’d like to admit, shidou is a little annoying, shidou can lift and hold you (he stronk athlete), dirty talk, semi-public sex, a little plot, p in v, creampie

note: hi! (✿◠‿◠) my first shidou fic (finally) and my contribution to @saintshiba’s sundress szn collab! truly hope everybody enjoys my take on him cause i am so obsessed with him. banner manga cap colored by moi! plspls let me know what you think of my writing! feedback means a lot (≧◡≦)

You aren’t used to wearing things other than your typical track shorts and t-shirts, never one for fashion or dressing up, though you admire anyone who enjoys that kind of stuff.

But it’s summer, and it’s hot, and you’re at a beach house with some friends. Pulling a cotton shirt and shorts on and off over a wet bathing suit is simply not it, so for this weekend you’ve decided to pack sundresses instead of your usual attire.

It’s been 2 days and all the stares you’ve been getting from the guys are still weird, most of confusion and/or surprise, but there are a couple friends, specifically one infuriating, blond-haired insect of a man, who is very obvious in the way he looks at you, magenta eyes half-lidded, salacious smirk stretching across his lips. It’s maddening, made even worse by the fact that he already knows what you’re hiding under your little sundress.

“The yellow suits you,” Shidou purrs in your ear in the kitchen, and you feel one of his fingers wiggle underneath the thin shoulder strap of your bikini top. “Goes nice with the purple suit.”

“Too bad none of it’s for you,” you grumble, trying not to pay him much attention.

He isn’t so much your ex-boyfriend as much as your ex-mistake, a fuck buddy you had the misfortune of catching feelings for only for him to let you down gently. Or, as gently as someone like Shidou could manage.

I still wanna fuck you, though, he had told you thoughtlessly. It’s better than nothing for you, right?

You had immediately cut things off, both hurt and offended that he just assumed his dick would be enough to keep you around. That you were so desperate for him that you would just take what you could get.

No, you hadn’t quite reached that level of infatuation.

You’re still a little bitter about it, a little embarrassed, but you’re also irritated, especially since he insists on coming onto you even now.

“Who’s it for then, hm?” he asks, bending down enough for his breath to hit your neck. It gives you goosebumps. It also makes you squirm away from him.

“For me. ‘Cause it’s easy and breezy.”

“And beautiful… cover girl,” he quotes. You fight not to laugh. “But really, the dresses look good on you. You should let me take some pictures…” he wiggles his eyebrows. “More for my private collection.”

You make a face of disgust. “Ugh, you haven’t deleted those yet?” The thought of him having all kinds of lewd photos of you both disturbs and excites you. Does that mean he still uses them?

“Why would I delete such quality content?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you threaten, “if you post those anywhere, I’ll kill you.”

Shidou grins crookedly. “Kinky.”

With an exasperated huff, you walk away.

~*~

Even with crazy, windblown hair and covered in sweat, you can still sense Shidou watching you. It makes your already heated skin burn even hotter.

Currently you’re situated under an umbrella, just scrolling on your phone while all the guys play a game of beach volleyball. If it can even be called that. They should definitely stick to soccer.

You aren’t surprised when Shidou plops down next to you, dusting up some sand so that it powders your bare thighs.

“White today,” he comments, picking at the hem of your short dress.

All you offer is a noncommittal, “mm,” gritting your teeth at the feeling of his fingertips grazing your skin.

“Makes you look innocent,” he continues. “Which we both know is a lie.”

“Shidou, please drop it. Admire from afar if you have to, but—”

“Miss when you used to call me Ryu.” He nuzzles into your shoulder, inhaling deeply, and when you try to shrug him off, you feel his teeth against your skin. He doesn’t bite hard, but it’s enough to anchor him to you.

“Ryu!” you squeal, shoving his face away.

“Just like that,” he grins before mimicking you ‘Ryu’. “Used to scream my name like that when I’d fuck you real good.”

“God, you are insufferable!”

He’s also turning you on, much to your disappointment. Hand slowly slipping under your dress, a small nibble to your earlobe.

“I know all your spots, baby. Just give in. You know you want to.” He’s using that seductive voice that always makes your breath quicken and your eyes dilate. Everything is brighter even with your sunglasses.

“See, you’re already spreading your legs for me.”

He’s right. Your knees aren’t pressed together anymore, leaving a gap between your thighs.

“There are people around, Ryuusei,” you tell him sternly, a last ditch effort to spur his advances.

You aren’t the least bit surprised when his only counter is a petulant, “so?”

His hand slides up further until his fingers brush against your covered pussy, and you bite your lip, ashamed that you’ve let him get to you like this.

“Sand,” you whine. “Don’t want…”

He hums in consideration then turns onto his back, rolling and propelling himself straight to his feet in one fluid motion. Annoying.

“To the showers, then,” he says, pulling you up.

He ignores your mumbling as he leads you to the little shower, on the beach for the purpose of rinsing sand off of sticky bodies. A little blue curtain is all that will block you from view. You’re supposed to keep your bathing suits on after all.

The water pressure isn’t strong, but it is enough to get the sand off both of you. You swear out loud as you pull your bottoms off. The dress is staying on; there’s no way you’re getting entirely naked. Shidou, on the other hand, shamelessly pushes his trunks all the way off, letting them pool on the wooden plans right next to yours.

You gasp when he suddenly spins you around, finding the strings of your top and tugging them loose.

“Get this shit off.”

He yanks the material over your head, turning you to face him again, and groans when he looks down at your chest. With your white dress entirely soaked, your hard nipples show through the sheerness. Shidou immediately starts groping you, his head falling back like he’s already on the verge of cumming just from playing with your tits.

It feels good, his palms rubbing over your sensitive buds before he pinches each one. You’d rather skip the foreplay, though, eager to have something inside you while also nervous about being caught.

To move things along you reach between your legs, running your middle finger between your folds and hating yourself for how wet you are. Like you’d said the other day, water makes a terrible lube, but if you’re already ridiculously slick, it doesn’t really matter.

You slip two fingers into your hole and scissor them apart, well aware that it’d be unwise to take Shidou without any prep. His cock is too pretty, something to be proud of, and he is. It’s thick and long, fat mushroom shaped head perfect for dragging against your walls.

“Yeah, you want it now, don’t ya?” he teases.

“Don’t push your luck.” It’s meant to be a warning, but you’re too breathless for it to have any weight.

Shidou abandons your chest in order to guide your hand away from yourself, replacing it with his own and fucking you with his longer fingers. He hikes one of your legs up, holding it to his hip, and as he stretches you out, he ruts his pelvis forward.

“Okay, I’m good,” you tell him. “I’m good, I’m ready.”

“Oh? Baby girl all cock hungry now?”

“Ryuuu,” you whine, grinding down on his hand.

“Only ‘cause you’re making such pretty sounds for me.”

He grabs your other leg, hoisting you up with the strength gained from years of dedicated workouts. You shift in his grasp until you feel the tip of his cock rub against your cunt. The amount of times the two of you have fucked, you know each others bodies well, and it’s almost second nature for you to guide him into your hole without the use of your hands.

Your mouth hangs open as he slides inside, the muscles in Shidou’s arms straining as he lowers you on his cock. You’re relying on him entirely. He’ll be in control as he supports you, and you’ll be completely helpless.

He doesn’t ask if you’re ready, if you’ve braced yourself, just starts bouncing you up and down. His fingers dig into the fat of your thighs, definitely creating bruises, and you steady yourself by tangling fingers in his hair. He’s so fucking hot like this, water running down his toned frame, blonde strands plastered to his face.

The way that you’re gripping his hair pushes his face into your tits, and Shidou groans like a porn star, lapping up the droplets that cover your chest.

Short moans are forced out if you with every bounce. Hn, hn, hn until Shidou starts moving you more aggressively and your jaw drops. Ah, ah, ah.

“Missed this sweet pussy,” Shidou pants. “Take my dick so good. Think she missed me too.”

You’re not a huge fan of him personifying your literal vagina, but you’re too far gone to chastise him for it. In fact, you agree, nodding and huffing, “I do, I do…”

His thrusts are shallow because of the position, but he still feels so good as he bullies your soft, gummy walls. The way you’re wrapped around him has your hard clit rubbing against his pelvis, the coarse hairs at the base of his cock beginning to rub you raw in a delicious way. You always did like a little pain with your pleasure, and Shidou is amazing at delivering just that.

“Really should open this curtain. Let everyone see how gorgeous you look getting fucked like this.”

“Don’t you dare,” you gasp.

“You sure? You don’t wanna put on a show for the guys? I bet they’d all get jealous.”

“Ryu, please!”

He bites the top of one of your tits then relents, rolling his striking eyes. “Fine.” His thick eyelashes are dripping with water, so pretty. “But only if you cum for me.”

You wouldn’t be able to if he hadn’t been fucking you so perfectly, cockhead massaging your g-spot, clit now overstimulated.

“Think you can do that for me, sweetness?”

You nod. “Are… are you close too?”

“‘’m always close when I’m fucking you,” he tells you. “Just looking at you gets me hard.”

Vulgar but flattering.

“You want me inside? Stuff this pussy full of cum?”

“Nnng, pleeease.”

You shouldn’t let him, shouldn’t reward him after how much he’s annoyed you on this vacation. But you love the feeling of him dripping out of you, thick and warm, enough to spill down your thighs. If you weren’t on birth control, you would never. As it is…

“Alright, cum for me then,” he commands. “Wanna feel your cunt milk me.”

Heat spreads from your pussy to the place between your hips, pooling into your tummy and traveling to your toes.

“Oh god, Ryu,” you sob, “I’m… don’t stop…”

He spreads his legs, squatting slightly so that his thighs can support some of your weight as he quickly rocks back and forth, his fat cock pistoning in and out of your spasming hole.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“m’gonna blow,” Shidou huffs. “Gonna fill you up… take my cum, baby, take all of it.”

It’s a subtle sensation, him spilling inside of you. You can’t feel every individual rope of cum, but you can feel your pussy getting fuller and fuller, stretching you even further. And then, you can feel it begin to leak out of you, coating Shidou’s cock as he pulls out until only his tip remains inside of you.

“Still as good as I remember,” he remarks, lifting you until he slips out of you before setting you back on wobbly legs.

He’s right, unfortunately. The best lay you’ve ever had.

“It was… nice,” you mumble regretfully. “Glad we’re already in a shower.”

“Convenient. Since you always get so messy,” he smirks.

“Because you make me messy.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

You rinse off the slimy fluid dripping down the insides of your legs, retrieve your bathing suit from the ground. The bottoms are easy enough to wiggle back into, but you have to ask Shidou for help with your top.

“You look so good without it, though, he says, but when you cast him a glare, he concedes. “Fine.”

As he ties it back around you, you can’t help but ask, “is it just the sundresses that did it for you? You like them that much?”

“I mean, I do like little dresses like this,” he confirms, trailing his hands down your ribs and pulling you back into him. “But anything you wear gets my dick hard. My jerseys, pajamas, your boring t-shirts n’ shit.”

“Boring but comfy.”

“And still sexy cause you’re the one wearing ‘em.”

Your stomach flutters in a familiar way, butterflies accompanied by dread. “Careful. You’re starting to sound awfully sweet, Ryu.”

You feel him shrug, his arms locked around you and his lips pressed to the skin behind your ear.

“What can I say? I missed you.”

You can’t even formulate a response to that, refusing to get your hopes up. The vacation will be over soon, and Shidou will go back to being a fuckboy. You’re not about to let him hurt you again.

So you shake your head and step out of his arms then bend down to grab his swim trunks off the ground.

“Put your pants back on,” you sigh, and, taking a page out of his book, you leave him with a casualness that you hope will mess with his head in the coming days. Just like this whole encounter is sure to mess with yours.

2023©️shidou-x. please do not plagiarize, edit, or share my work to any other platforms.

[simpxxstan]

perfect complements (ch. 1)

pairing: professor!seungcheol x professor!f.reader

genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, angst, slight smut

series summary: four and a half years of working together breeds familiarity, resentment, and everything in between. it's almost like living together.

chapter word count: 2.1k

warnings: bickering (will be a major feature in this story, so please do not read if verbal fights are not your cup of tea), seungcheol smokes.

a/n: seventeen is my new addiction and i'm not backing off! this is inspired from my dream life (hehe i want to be an econ prof). the series title is an econ term lolol sorry if it's too geeky. i think this series will have multiple spinoffs, maybe you can guess for which characters? all i can hope for is that i'll be able to pull through the plot till the very end and not get writers' block midway :(

slight heads up? seungcheol is 32 here, and the f. reader y/n is 33 here. wonwoo is 35-36, and minghao is slightly younger than seungcheol, probably 30. chan is 24-25 years old. y/n is shorter than seungcheol, and wears glasses. not much other physical description of y/n. also, this fic will probably have different povs, so this chapter is from seungcheol's pov.

thank you so much for reading! your reblogs, likes and comments mean sooo much honestly. i know every content creator says this, and i know we all mean it from our hearts.

enjoy some of my ult svt bias, seungcheollie!

series masterlist

With four and a half years of working together comes a ton of familiarity. Choi Seungcheol knows it annoyingly well: annoying because he’s greeted by the sight of your coat on his chair again, and well because this is a sight he sees nearly every Monday. Four years ago, he would have tried to explain to you that it’s a Monday morning, he didn’t want to come to take classes this early, and his patience is running thin, so it would be very nice if you could remember which chair was yours every morning when you came and took off your coat. Three years ago, he would have shrieked out, irritation burning through his veins. Two years ago, he would walk up to your desk, and spill your coffee all over the term paper you were currently checking. One year ago, he would purposely ruin your day even if it increased his headache tenfold just thinking about ways to annoy you. 

But not any more. Choi Seungcheol has decided you are not worth a penny of his hard earned money, a moment of his precious time, and a nano atom of his genius brain cells. He simply picks your coat and dumps it on the ground, deliciously close to the dustbin. He knows his ears shouldn’t perk up, but they do, and when they hear your reaction, it is so gratifying, it feels like he has won a World War. 

“Prof. Choi, if you feel you cannot respect the personal property of others, feel free to accompany me to the Dean’s Office.” You have somehow stomped up to him, standing right before him, as he pulls out the chair to his desk, taking in the endless papers and books that are arranged neatly before him. Your attitude never ceases to surprise him, given that you’re an entire head shorter than him, and even if you’re wearing heels, he can tower over you whenever you stomp up to him in these little furies. It makes you look like a little furry puppy, your hands on your hips, and Seungcheol thrives off the fire burning in your eyes. “There, there. I’d actually love to, but it seems that you need to remember how to respect public property and not hog over the space of others.” 

You’re staring at him above your glasses, which have slipped down to the middle of your nose, and god, Seungcheol finds it hilarious. He wants to burst out laughing, the only thing holding him on is his determination to not break character and push you further. 

“And if your routine morning tantrums are over, Seungcheol and Y/N, please settle down in your seats. It seems like I have to send you both to college again.” 

Said Dean’s voice booms out behind you, and although his voice is surprisingly firm, there’s a shit-eating grin on his face, and he walks towards the two of you. He picks up the coat, lying on the floor, and hands it to Y/N. Jeon Wonwoo does not miss out on how flustered you both look on getting caught during your little lovers’ quarrel, as Wonwoo likes to call it in his mind, all alone in the Economics Department Staffroom. 

“Morning Wonwoo! Enlighten me why no one else is here. Why am I stuck with this lady through this sad Monday morning?” 

Seungcheol leans back on his chair, casual now that Wonwoo has calmed down the mood. You walk back to your desk, which unfortunately is right opposite Seungcheol’s, but he’s used to your ugly face to stay unfazed by it now. It’s like a terrible gift from a nosy relative you’ve hung up on the wall for long enough that it doesn’t catch the eye anymore and is just… there. But he’s quick to take note of how you’re smiling at Wonwoo, your glasses have been pushed to the top of your head, revealing your forehead and the same tiny pair of diamond hoops you wear every day. 

It is, like he knows well, a scene of familiarity. And he really despises that fact. 

“Minghao has a conference, he’s in the States. This is in preparation for his exchange program thing.”

“Oh yeah, he texted me on Saturday that he’s leaving soon… wasn’t aware it’s today.” You speak softly, already opening your laptop to get started with your work for the day. 

“And Minhee is in the Girls’ Hostel.”

“Why?” You both ask, confused. “I thought Prof. Kim from History is the warden?” “Yes, but they’ve recently gone on their maternity leave. Minhee has to take over. And, bad luck for her, but on the very first day, there’s been a kind of emergency. Some punches were thrown while drunk, and now Minhee’s lecturing them.” “As if anyone’s gonna take her seriously,” Seungcheol scoffs, since everyone knew Minhee to be one of the coolest professors in the university. 

“Hey! They took me very seriously, thank you. This is the problem with men. Give them a woman with good tits and a kind face and they think she’s a dumb bitch to run over.” Minhee walks into the small Staffroom, looking very much exhausted but she’s never going to admit it. She plops down on your desk, pushing away the laptop. “Is the situation better now?” you ask, holding out your coffee to Minhee, asking her silently to take a sip. “Yes, thankfully. I’ll have to go and check again after classes get over for the day.”

“Well then, you’re all up to date. Don’t forget the meeting with the Faculty Coordinator today at 5 pm!” “Yes Sir,” you all echo unenthusiastically, as Wonwoo chuckles and walks out of the room. It’s going to be a long day and Seungcheol can already feel his temples buzzing. 

_

Six classes down, and he’s feeling the Monday blues wear off into a blissful exhaustion. At the end of the day, this is a profession he has not once regretted choosing. He absolutely adores spending time with his students- mostly. There’s always going to be a black sheep, like Lee Chan from his Advanced Game Theory course. Chan isn’t a bad guy, per se. He’s just over-enthusiastic and is always looking to impress: which results in him reading texts beyond his level just to try and make Seungcheol happy and end up confusing the entire concept. 

But at least dealing with the well-meaning Chan is better than going to the faculty counselling meeting with you. Well, not just with you. But he knows very well what he’s going to hear at the meeting, and he’s absolutely dreading it. He has nearly the same look on his face as his students do when they get the term results, he’s just better at masking it. 

As he walks into the Faculty Coordinator’s office, he sees you’re already sitting in a corner, staring outside the window, while Minhee is chatting with the Coordinator. He notices you glancing his way once, before turning your eyes towards the sky again. “Good Afternoon Prof. Choi! How are you doing?” Ms. Song looks at Seungcheol with warm eyes as he takes a seat. “I’m fine, thank you, and you?” It seems that nervousness has rendered Seungcheol incapable of forming sentences beyond nursery-level, and both Minhee and Ms. Song let out a small laugh at his childish response. “I’m sure you know why you’re here, Prof. Choi, as does Prof. Y/L/N. I’ll spare you the intro.” Minhee asks, “Am I really needed to be here?” Ms. Song says, “Prof. Jeon, unless you seriously want me to be alone with this pair who want to murder each other, I would really prefer if you could be here.” Seungcheol is blushing now, embarrassed to the toe. He can hear you groan, and Minhee somehow finds it all funny enough to smile. “If it's so amusing to you, Minhee, you can leave. We swear we won’t kill each other today, if we’ve been able to control ourselves all this time.” Seungcheol’s not even looking at you, but the sarcasm is biting his skin. 

“Alright, alright. Calm down, Prof. Y/L/N. Remember, aggression is not the key. We’re here for resolutions.” 

“Well then, could we please proceed to the point directly?”

“You’re in a rush on a Monday? You play baseball with the kids after class-” you ask him, staring into his face.

“I have a date today after class.” 

That shuts you up for good, and Seungcheol feels queasy. It’s one thing trying to get the last word in, and it’s another to hit your weak point just to get the last word in. He wants to explain but Ms. Song interrupts. “I’ll cut the chase. From what I can see now, and from all the reports I’ve received in the last three months, there’s been not much improvement from the situation we had observed earlier. In fact, it’s only gotten more alarming-”

“Ever since I’ve turned thirty-three,” you sigh, but Ms. Song ignores you. 

“I’ve spoken to the Dean, Dr. Wonwoo, and also to some of the other faculty members you share your classes and university space with. We collectively think it’s only fair to say that your interpersonal relationship is harming the kind of environment we want to foster in our university. It is, by no means, a new development, and students of several batches have noticed this relationship of yours as well. This kind of banter, which includes quite serious threats at times-” she raises a hand to quieten Seungcheol’s attempt to interrupt, “is not conducive to a healthy academic environment.”

You both sigh, you whisper something along the lines of it’s not that serious, and although Seungcheol hates to say it out loud, he agrees with you. 

“I would recommend you both to go to the University Counsellor and take a few… bonding sessions over the next semester. We think this kind of banter is not too serious, we’re extremely hopeful of a resolution. It’s just not happening right now, because you’re not aware of the efforts to be taken. Once you sit with a counsellor, the path will be clearer-”

Seungcheol doesn’t even realise when he’s stood up. It feels stuffy. He had thought he was long past the age of getting reprimanded for fighting with his peers. 

“I really have to leave now. Thank you for the talk, Ms. Song. I’ll get back to you with my schedule and we can set up the meetings with the counsellor.”

“Prof. Choi.” The voice is stern, and Seungcheol holds up. He needs a cigarette, or fresh air. Neither is really available right now, so he grips on to the chair to steady himself. “I will mail you the meetings and Plan of Action, and you shall adjust your schedule accordingly. You know the consequences-” Seungcheol nods before the threat gets completed. Wonwoo has explained the consequences several times to him. 

“I will do so. Don’t worry, Ms. Song. You shall get nothing but my best efforts.” “I hope so. Really.” 

Seungcheol finally steps out of the room, and heaves deep breaths to get his brain working again. His phone rings, as he walks down the stairs to get away from the building. He picks it up while lighting the cigarette between his lips as he leaves the campus-

“Hello Cheollie! Should I come over to your place to pick you up or-”

“Hyerin?”

“What? Did you forget about our date? Yah! Oppa!”

“No no, I just-” he realises that you’ve just left the campus walking past him, not even sparing him a glance. He watches you as you walk farther away from him, your car blinking in the distance, and the tap-tap of your heels fading out amidst the sounds of the wind. The campus is remarkably quiet for this time of the day, or maybe he’s just too out of it all. 

“I’ll meet you at the cafe. We can go to your place later, right?”

“Yes yes, I’ve talked to my roommate already, but why not Oppa’s place this time?” the sickly sweet voice from the other end of the phone irritates him, but he knows she’s acting cute just for fun. 

“You know why-” 

“Oppa, Kkuma doesn’t care about the girls you bring over.” “She does! She’s a very sensitive princess.” “Cheol-ah, you can just say you don’t care enough about me, and I’ll get it. Don’t bring the poor baby into this.” Seungcheol sighs. This is why he likes Hyerin, she can be mature when she wants to.

But it seems like now is not the time.

“I’ll see you later then, Oppa! Maybe tonight will change your mind!” “Hmm!” Seungcheol hears the call get cut, and he finally drags a puff from his cigarette. You’ve disappeared out of sight, and Seungcheol’s mind is clear now.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

rj im begging u to give me anything about cheol dhsbd its been bad for me lately and i need to talk about him with someone who GETS it

ps hi i love u lol

Anything for you

AN: I was originally going to use ideas from one of the S.Coups fics in my drafts but, since today is also the lovely @onlyseokmins birthday, I decided to go with this idea that hit me out of nowhere instead. Kill two birds with one stone and all of that. All I'm going to say is that this is all Sar's fault (I hope this is okay and, still scratches your S.Coups itch 💀).

Synopsis: Seokmin is the most generous, thoughtful man you've ever met. He'll more than willingly give you whatever you want (if it's within his means, of course). Even if that means sitting back and watching you get fucked by one of his closest friends.

Heads up: Lee Seokmin x Fem! Reader x Choi Seungcheol, Reader and DK are in a relationship, the plot is paper-thin, heavily implied power dynamics, cuckoldry (sort of), voyeurism, exhibitionism, Seungcheol is mean here, mentions of pussy spanking (f. receiving), edging (f. receiving), it's implied that Cheol gets off on Reader's tears, praise kink (f. receiving), degradation (f. receiving), dirty talk, unprotected piv sex, creampie and DK cums untouched.

Word count: 829

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Some people may think you're a little spoiled by your boyfriend. With his thoughtfulness often resulting in him bringing you flowers he saw on his way home from work or washing the dishes when it's your turn when work is particularly grating or making you cum on his pretty fingers until you lose count.

Yeah, maybe you're a little spoiled but, Seokmin just wants to make you happy. The way your eyes light up and that brilliant smile you always give him make it all more than worth it.

That's how the two of you find yourselves in your current situation. Well, the three of you.

Your... affinity for muscular men with great arms and pretty smiles has caused your gaze to linger a few too many times on Seungcheol. You'd never dream of betraying Seokmin that way, but you'd be lying if you said Seungcheol hadn't featured in a fantasy or two. Your boyfriend, ever the observant man, doesn't fail to notice.

And now, looking at him flushed with his bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead as he watches Seungcheol split you open on his, frankly, intimidating cock, you're left wondering if this is all even real.

"Doesn't she look so pretty taking me, Seokminnie?" The older man asks. You can't quite see him from this angle but, you're sure he's grinning when he thrusts into you so hard that your nails nearly draw blood from how tightly you're holding onto him.

"Yeah, she does," your boyfriend mutters in response, lidded eyes flying between taking in your changing expressions and Seungcheol thrusting into you.

Seungcheol isn't as kind as your boyfriend. Every act of disobedience and brattiness met with an unflinching spank to your clit. Stopping completely until you're near tears with how desperately you want to cum. Your mind devoid of everything but, the need to cum on his cock.

And Seokmin watches it all. His cock hard and untouched in the confines of his boxers. You haven't given permission to touch himself yet so, he sits and watches like the good boy he is.

"Cheol, please," you choke out once more when his cock brushes a spot inside of you that makes it difficult to breathe. Frustrated tears spilling down your overheated face.

"You do know how to ask nicely," he coos against your ear, nipping it and startling you when his daft fingers rub circles against your hypersensitive clit. It's dizzying how quickly he's learned how to toy with you.

You're so close. So, so close. Your thighs quivering violently and broken moans falling from your bruised lips as you chase your release.

Choi Seungcheol would never make it that easy. So, he stops once more. You feel his cock throb inside of you as your walls spasm and, frustrated whines leave your lips. He even has the nerve to lick away a few of the tears he's able to catch. You had no idea he had so many sadistic tendencies.

Before you can ask why he stopped, he speaks, "Do you think she deserves to cum?"

Seokmin looks like a deer caught in head lights. Warm, brown eyes alternating between your watery, desperate ones and the ones of the very hot, very evil man propping you up against his chest.

"I-I think she deserves to cum," he stutters out and, you want to kiss him so badly. You're going to make him cum so hard he can't walk straight after this.

"Well, since you've both been so well-behaved," is all the preparation you're giving before Seungcheol picks up his pace once more. Leaving you no time or room to gather yourself as his fingers make quick work of your clit once more.

"Are you going to cum like the good girl you are? The needy slut you are?" the devil whispers into your ear. Though you're pretty sure Seokmin can hear it all from the way he squirms in his seat.

"Make a mess for Seokmin,"

That's all it takes for your orgasm to rip through you. You don't remember the last time you came this hard. Seungcheol groans behind you and holds you steady through it all. Everything tenses and seizes and you're briefly worried that you'll develop a cramp but, you can't bring yourself to care all that much.

It's made all the worse (or better, depending on how you look at it) when you feel Seungcheol cum inside of you. His hold on you becoming harsh as he makes you take every single drop with every pulse of him inside of you.

Your bleary eyes meet Seokmin's frenzied ones and, that's when it hits you. He came. He came from watching...all of this. He looks like he's so close to stumbling out an apology but, you're not upset. Quite the opposite. The wet stain on his boxers instinctively making you clamp down on Seungcheol's softening cock, causing the man behind you to moan.

Yeah, this might be his greatest gift yet.

[xivu-arath]

Tell me about your Star Wars OCs?

this is a tall order... watch me forget someone

mains

rkorya, sith warrior - proud, self-assured, bloodthirsty and far more loyal than she is ambitious, she's extremely powerful and a talented warrior, but lacks fine control in the force due to her training being deliberately sabotaged. she was her family's only hope to maintain their precarious status as minor nobility, and succeeded in this role... and just happened to be isolated, pressured, and used as a pawn for nearly every step of the way. despite that, she's endured and survived and made herself too implacable to really be challenged. she loves the empire (and what she thinks it can become) and is blind to all the damage it's done to her, but she's also someone all the darths have to step very lightly around. My Favourite, has the bulk of my fic and several adjacent timelines of what happens with her (in one she sacrifices herself and becomes a sword ghost slowly moving through history)

shenrihn, jedi knight - quiet, distant and superficially calm - but judgmental, fiercely aggressive in battle, and driven by fear and resentment, they're rather infamous as a jedi for having emerged from the prison planet of belsavis, where they had been in stasis for 20,000 years. once a slave of the infinite empire of the rakata, they navigated the stars and found life-rich planets for conquest, but were put into stasis for study when the rakata's force sensitivity began to wane. the jedi order took custody of them after their discovery, and they eventually became a padawan... but finding the peace promised to them proved very difficult. their story is in limbo after finishing the class story because they would rather avoid all plot forever, but I'm cultivating a very mean au where they end up in the sith inquisitor story instead

significant ocs

vitnako, twi'lek smuggler - witty, laidback, radiates Just A Guy energy, but has a ruthless streak when cornered. an expert on reinventing himself and cutting and running due to a tough past on hutta and being the only one who managed to get out of there. only loosely connected to the class story because it's either sexist or ridiculous, but he's out there dodging the law and having a good time

netethei, chiss agent - Officially The Worst. cheerful, amiable and easily entertained, she's difficult to read due to how genuine her amusement is - but it can easily come at the cost of those around her. she was recruited by the empire after selling a diplomat's scandals and secrets out, and she's currently keeping herself from stepping out of line... but all of her fellow agents hate her anyways

meyrikh, pureblood sith apprentice - secretive, jealous, an insecure mess. child of a family found to be plotting treason, she and her older siblings were sold into slavery, and all of the adults killed. she eventually managed to become an apprentice, but any advantage her lineage might have granted her is outweighed by how uncomfortable her existence makes every traditional sith. her sole talent is in going unseen, but still not as often as she would like. kept in limbo because I want to think of a good master for her still

tashram, togruta sith lord - weary, vengeful, bitter, and stubborn. an attempt on her life by an upstart rival has her crash onto an agrarian planet in the middle of nowhere. laying low slowly turns to actually making a life for herself here rather than risk returning to sith politics. has an extremely wip fic project about how she becomes a farmer, and the connections she makes

the twi'lek pirate crew - barely represented on my blog, but a collection of twi'leks (and one zabrak) created by one of my friends handing me a bunch of adoptables. I don't have much of substance on them but I think they're cool

characters in name only

kymet, mirialan trooper - a republic trooper for the class story

chotal, miraluka jedi consular - a consular for the class story! I actually really enjoy the story but cannot think of a good oc for it yet so here we are

yskra, rattataki bounty hunter - an oc I made in tandem with a friend, but he's not playing currently so she's in limbo. a survivor of rattatak's fighting arenas, trying to make a future through bounty hunting with her partner

[primewritessmut]

7, 11, 17, 18, 19 distracting you despite it being against my best interests

The way this post was for everyone but you. 💀

7. Favorite Character To Write?

This is probably going to sound weird and very niche, but my favorite character to write is Gwen from every star for you. I was re-reading it today (bc it's bot infested and I had to go comment deleting) and I love an unapologetic, mean, awful woman that fucks. For this same reason, I also really enjoy writing Harley Quinn (even though I don't do it very often) and most of my original work has some flavor of unlikeable woman in it.

11. Have Any Sneak Peeks Of A Current WIP?

You are insatiable. And I even told you that story about my awful cat terrorizing the neighborhood in the middle of the night! But, since I wrote 1500 words on my cat!Loki wip yesterday... I'll give you some of that.

Very little of what Loki had learned about the TVA before deciding to come here had prepared him for seeing his own face on a screen. Parts of his own life, fast-forwarded and rewound like just another movie committed to celluloid film. The idea that all the choices he’s ever made are simply steps on a predetermined path. Or that there’s been someone walking those steps with him the entire time. At least a little.

He arches his back and yawns, stretching his legs out as far as he can until one paw lands lightly on Mobius’s back.

“Sorry,” he mumbles in his sleep, scooting further away from Loki’s sprawl across the surprisingly luxurious mattress.

Loki rolls over and stretches again, pressing both front paws harder against Mobius’s spine. The analyst scoots away a second time, giving Loki all the room a feral little cat might need, and falling off the edge of the bed with a heavy thud in the process.

“Ow. Shit.” Mobius rustles around on the floor for a minute, then exhales loudly. “I guess I can just sleep down here?”

Loki slinks up to the head of the bed and burrows into the soft down of both pillows, flopping onto his back and flicking his tail side to side since it’s the closest he can get to laughing.

17. Your Favorite Writing Conditions?

I assume we're talking ideal writing conditions? Not just the wet rag I manage to wring out every day?

My favorite place I've ever written was in a cabin on a cliff overlooking the ocean (spirit box vibes) in a place with shitty wifi and phone service. I've gotten to do this TWICE and it's incredible. I stayed there for three days making sure I always had drinks in multiples of three and bounced around between writing, napping, hiking, and doing other hobbies.

So those are my ideal conditions, I guess. A few days to decompress from life, then a few more days alone in a cabin where the paint has been worn thin by wind and sun and salt water, and I can just write whenever I want and I don't have to give a shit about anyone but me.

My headphones are probably there, too.

18. Favorite Writing Style To Read?

Ugh. I'm a simple lad and I like simple fair. I like books that are irreverent and show an author's sense of humor even if it doesn't seem like the genre for it. I also think my tastes run toward... bubblegum is the best word I can think of for it. I don't want to have to bring a machete into a book with me just to be able to understand a third of the plot.

And there's also a soft spot in my heart for author's that take you by the hand and walk you through the book, showing you the sights as you read and when you get to the end and you're looking at the sunset, they shove you off a cliff. Love a good "fuck you, bye", truly.

19. Last Thing You Read?

The actual last thing I read was the third chapter of spirit box as you know. Which I love every time I get to read it. 🚨 FIC REC ALERT EVERYONE 🚨

The last book I read was I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman which is sort of stuck in my brain like a splinter. It's one of those books where you read it and you're like, "Huh. I guess that's over." and then six days later you're in the shower and it hits you again and you feel like you're going to cry or throw up. It's really bleak and really human, and I think I'll be thinking about it a lot.

I have a couple books that are in the "just started" phase that I think I might DNF so I'm not mentioning them. But I'll probably tell you later so you don't waste your time.

x

[bolithesenate]

BOLI I'M HERE FOR YOU BOSS 7 for Sifo, 15, and 23 please :D

MY MOST TRUSTED SOLDIER

7: is there piece of clothing I think Sifo is very fond of

Uhhh, honestly, I haven't really thought about that at all. The low handing fruit would be to say some sort of shirt he stole from Dooku, but that's too easy.

both for me and for Sy.

So imma lean out on a branch here and say he actually has a pair of Jocasta's archivist tabards. She does NOT know he has them and he DEFINITELY wants to keep it that way. there's no way of telling what her revenge would be if she ever found out, but that's what makes having them all the more fun and interesting.

It's about the thrill of the unknown.

15: have you noticed your style change over time

HA

SURE

i mean, especially my drawing style changes with the stand of the sun, the constellation of the planets and with the way the neighbor's cat looks at me.

i think consistent style change is most evident in how I draw manga, actually. Something you lot here on tumblr might actually have not seen ever, now that i think about it. lol. there my style actually is rather consistent throughout mediums by now, something i cannot say about my style when i draw outside of that setting :P

But also with writing I think there was some progress. at least I like to call it progress (the main thing that comes to mind is that i've started using less brackets and more indents, but whether or not thats a good thing is up in the air lol)

23: has my favorite character/ship changed over time

changes with the moon, the sun, the way the wind blows.... most of the time I don't actually have a fixed favorite (shocking, I know)

like,I will say that Sifo and Rael are blorbos supreme, but that doesn't necessarily make them my favorite characters.

my favorite is whatever character works nicest for whatever shenanigans i am planning for my current project. I think that has always been like that.

same with ships, i actually need to change things up once in a while bc too much of the same thing grows boring to me and then I lose interest. (which is why my most recent fad is to just expand existing ships i am fond of into continuously growing poly circles XD It is turning into a bit of a problem) (yes, this is mud-fic relevant TT)

I think another thing worth mentioning here tho is that in regards to ships the most notable change is that I ship things at all. Initially when I started out I was very much a Gen baby and wanted more stories that didn't hinge on some romance for plot-furthering. Which is why my older stories also are all Gen.

I still think that a good story doesn't rely on romance, but I've since come to appreciate the character studies that come with romantic/sexual relationships and how they influence people. Also sometimes I just look at two (or more) characters and thin "ho, ho, wouldn't it be HORRIBLE if they fucked?"

[mrsreginagold]

Fic: Restless

Fandom: Ready or Not x Saw VI (Crossover)

Pairing: William Easton x Grace Le Domas (Willace)

Rating: R

Spoilers: Takes place in an AU, as William yet again survived his test and met Grace at some point. She isn’t fully aware of what he’s been through.

Summary: William’s restless nature worries Grace.

Author's Note: This is my second attempt to figure out what kind of universe and plot line works for this very random couple that I now ship incredibly hard. Most would agree that watching Will's ending in Saw VI is heartbreaking, but if he were to survive I know there would be a certain amount of trauma for him to process. Having Grace help and comfort him just felt like the right course. And she gets the added benefit of a really attractive man wanting to thank her afterwards which she absolutely does not mind.

Restless

                  The gentle rustle of cotton sheets was what alerted Grace Le Domas to William Easton exiting their bed. While it wasn’t unusual for him to wake in the middle of the night, she was admittedly touched that he took extra care not to disturb her. 

                  At the same time – the consistency worried her. She knew that he was able to function on less sleep than she did, but it wasn’t exactly a healthy habit. 

                  Resolved to help him in whatever way that she could, Grace threw back the covers, rose, and grabbed a thin robe to pull over her pajamas. She padded on bare feet through the hallway until she spotted William standing in the kitchen, waiting for the electric kettle to finish boiling some water, presumably for a cup of tea.

                  “Baby, you should be resting,” she strolled in, securing the robe around her midsection before curling her arms around his waist – embracing him from behind. “You have that interview tomorrow, remember?”

                  His response was a quiet sigh and to lean back into her. “Sorry, love, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

                  William’s voice – already a resonant baritone – was rougher with exhaustion, and despite her innocent intentions, Grace was unable to quell the pool of liquid warmth that gathered at her core. 

                  Biting back a moan at the effect he had over her, she instead pressed a feather-light kiss to his nape. “You have nothing to apologize for, but I can’t help being concerned. This has been going on for months and it’s not good for you.”

                  “I know that. I’ve been trying, but the insomnia is really tough to shake,” he twisted around to face her, and she visibly winced at seeing how dark the circles under his eyes were getting.

                  “God, you look exhausted,” she muttered, reaching up to push some loose strands of hair out of his line of vision. “Though I like this longer style on you.”

                  The corners of his mouth quirked into a brief smile. “You were the one who suggested it.”

                  “And I’m glad I did because it makes you look rakish,” she stood on tiptoe to kiss him properly, relieved when he pulled her closer on instinct. 

                  It was easy to lose herself in William’s arms, allowing the world around them to disappear into a cloudy haze while passion took over. However, distraction wasn’t what he currently needed, so she pulled back. “Make your tea, and let’s sit for a while and talk. Maybe we can get to the bottom of why you aren’t sleeping.”

                  “And here I was hoping that some tiring lovemaking was in the equation,” he teased.

                  She rolled her eyes, but an affectionate smile crossed her lips. “It still can be, but first: we should figure out what’s happening.”

                  They relocated to the living room with their tea in hand and nestled together on the couch. 

                  “Tell me about what started this,” she invited, taking a slow sip of her drink. 

                  He sunk further into the plush cushions. “It’s been going on since before we met, actually. Since…” he shuddered at the memory that emerged, unbidden. “Since my test.”

                  Grace pursed her lips. She knew only the basic details of what William had been through. “I know you don’t like unearthing those memories, but maybe talking about the experience would help.”

                  “Are you sure? It’s pretty horrifying.”

                  She rubbed over the back of her left hand, which bore the scars from her own harrowing experience only a few years ago. “I think I can handle it.”

                  He hesitated for another moment before quietly launching into his tale. 

                  Grace listened with growing alarm as William described, in great detail, the challenges that he had faced. While she was aware that Jigsaw’s traps were terrible, painful experiences, learning that they were also personal in many ways – tailored to the chosen victim – left her aghast. 

                  The most terrifying aspect, though, was the knowledge that he might not have made it due to sheer circumstance.

                  “Wait, so – you’re telling me that the entire time, it wasn’t even really your test? And if that mother and son hadn’t shown mercy, you’d have been killed?!”

                  “Yes.”

                  “Then what was the point of testing you in the first place?!” 

                  Her companion fell silent, his head drooping. 

                  Her heart clenched when she heard her lover begin to cry. “That’s the part that I keep asking myself. What was the point? Do I even deserve to be here or was it just dumb luck?!”

                  Immediately she slid over to give him a hug, running her fingers soothingly through his hair and pressing light kisses to his forehead. “Of course, you deserve to be here, Will.”

                  “Sometimes, I wonder.” he sniffled and then buried his head further into her shoulder.

                  She allowed him a proper sob, wondering if he had ever given himself leave to break, even in private moments. “Hey. Baby, look at me.”

                  He hesitated but did as she asked.

                  Tenderly, she swiped away the tears that ran down his handsome face. “William Easton: you are caring, thoughtful, and a good man, despite your past. Even when you were helping run a shady insurance agency, you took the time to meet with clients face to face and at least attempt to help them. Then, after all that Jigsaw put you through – you learned. You changed, and you brought down the very company that gave you success in the first place. I’d say that you’ve atoned and then some. So yes – you deserve to be here. You deserved to pass that test. And above all, you deserve love. My love,” she clarified. “Will, I love you so goddamned much, please don’t ever think that you aren’t worth it.”

                  A heavy silence hung in the air while he studied her, those eyes of his searching her own in a manner that made her wonder if he could gaze directly into her soul. 

                  Without warning, William lunged, his mouth capturing her own in a searing, passion-filled kiss that sent them toppling back onto the couch from the intensity of it. 

                  Unbidden, Grace moaned, her legs tangling around his when he settled on top of her. Their bodies always seemed to fit exactly – two puzzle pieces crafted solely for each other. 

                  He pulled back to give her air, nuzzling her nose with his before murmuring: “I love you too. Thank you for thinking me worthy.”

                  In the past – she might have scoffed at the platitude, but there was something hidden in the sea of blue she often found herself lost in that told her how much he meant it. 

                  She reached up, tracing a light pattern over his cheek, and replied. “You are, Will. Always.”

                  He ducked his head, claiming her lips in another kiss that was sweeter this time, reclining her back against the plush cushions and deftly undoing the knot in her robe so it fell open. 

                  Smirking against his mouth, she surged up and pushed him back into a sitting position, shucking the garment off and straddling him in the span of a few moments.

                  They kissed again, fervently, with Grace tugging playfully at his tee-shirt until he lifted his arms so she could whisk it over his head. 

                  Her hands immediately rushed to his bare chest, sliding down through the hair that dusted it before lingering at the drawstring waistband of his sleep pants. 

                  He arced his hips to assist her in their removal, grinning between heated kisses. “You’re overdressed.”

                  “Easily fixed,” she mumbled, shimmying halfway out of her nightgown so her bare skin could brush along his.

                  He helped her with the rest, until they were both completely naked and he twisted to bear her back under him. 

                  She raked her nails over a remarkably toned torso, sliding one long leg against his before hitching it over his hip, drawing their nude forms even closer together.

                  He didn’t need further invitation and joined them with a fluid movement, the air soon filled with their mingled cries as they drove each other to completion. 

                  A while later…

                  “It hasn’t escaped my attention that we’re very partial to this couch,” William stated, his words slightly muffled from where his head was pillowed against Grace’s chest. 

                  “We are, aren’t we?” she couldn’t help a chuckle, stroking through his hair, which had been lovingly mussed in their exertions. 

                  “Between this and the shower, I’d say that the bed itself has been horribly neglected.” He shifted so he could peer down at her. “We should probably do something about that.”

                  “Maybe get a better mattress?” she suggested, running her hands slowly up and down his chest. “I mean, it could help with the sleep issue.”

                  “That’s going to be less of a problem from now on,” he admitted, touching his forehead to hers. “As long as you’re next to me, I can rest.”

                  “Provided there’s thorough, tiring sex beforehand?” she joked. 

                  “Not necessary but appreciated.” He laughed, which made his features light up in a way she hadn’t seen in a while. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight. 

                  “I meant it earlier…you’re always worthy of my love, Will.”

                  “I know that Gracie,” he leaned in, kissing her gratefully. “I know.”

                  And judging from how eager he was to prove that fact – she had little doubt in the sincerity.

The End

[milliesfishes]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

(idk who to tag who originally came up with the questions but I found them through @the-likesofus and was curious ab my other writer moots answers so <3)

How many works do you have on ao3?

2 but I'm hoping to repost a bunch of my fics on here to there soon!

What's your total ao3 word count?

92,519

What fandoms do you write for?

At the moment I write for TBOSAS and Billy the Kid (2022)

Top five fics by kudos:

Only have 2 fics on AO3 currently but

1. I Once Believed Love Would Be Black and White, But It's Golden

and

2. Pray You Catch Me

Do you respond to comments?

Always!! I love, love receiving comments and I know how scary it can be sometimes to leave them, so I want to show my appreciation <3

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Well...𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓮𝓯𝓽 𝓶𝓮 rn but I have one coming out tomorrow that's also Billy the Kid and the ending is pretty...it's pretty angsty

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I try really hard to keep my endings happy because the nature of both fandoms I write for is inherently tragic but personally the one that warms my heart the most is either 𝓤𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓾𝓫𝓽𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮 cause it's the end of the series or 𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓻𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼

Do you get hate on fics?

I've been very lucky to receive mostly positive feedback on my work- the closest I've gotten to hate was someone commenting on how I didn't include in the TWs that my Reader would be mentioned as thin and blue eyed (which I felt SO bad about and they were very kind about the whole situation- sometimes I don't catch that stuff in editing)

Do you write smut?

I do not purely because I'm a Christian girl (don't hate me) but that doesn't mean I judge others for doing so at all like y'all get freaky go nuts <3

Craziest crossover:

I've never done a crossover fic but that could change

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge, no, thankfully

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't technically. The closest I've come is when Franci and me have done mermaid au stuff but that was completely her idea and her credit, she just let me write for it <3

All time favourite ship?

It's hard to say (anyone I write for x me lmao)

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

tbh once I deem something a wip there's no stopping me until I finish it. Having drafts lowkey stresses me out (in a good way) I've finished almost everything I've started, the only exceptions being things that were either a) had no plot point at all besides the ship or b) my hyperfixation fizzled and I lost passion

What are your writing strengths?

I feel like I'm good at angst honestly, and the other thing I feel like I consistently do well is in the plot points of my stories. Honestly my self awareness isn't that great though so I could possibly be talking out of my ass

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I've done it briefly before because Billy canonically speaks Spanish but I am not a fluent speaker in any language except English so I'd be a little cautious doing it lol

First fandom you wrote in?

The very first fandom I ever wrote in was Riverdale

Favourite fic you've written?

I'm still so proud of Pray You Catch me, but another one I love is Inamorata just cause it was so fun to write. But honestly I adore all my fics and though I'll always be self-critical they mean a lot to me because my followers have liked them so much <3

Tagging!

@francixoxoxo @runningfrom2am @a-romantics-guide-to-life @fictional-at-heart

also if you're a writer and you see this you're tagged <3

[androxys]

20 Questions for Fic Writers Tag Game

Thank you @cuephrase for the tag!

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

Time of posting, I have 18 fics publicly available under my name. I have one or two tucked away in anonymous collections though.

2. what's your total AO3 word count?

343,227!

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Right now I'm pretty heavily involved in the DC Universe. There are a few different characters within DC that I like to write for, but it's primarily Batman and his expanded cast. At one point I had a pretty lengthy original work series up too, but I've moved it out of the public sphere because a) I don't personally feel it's within the AO3's mission and b) I keep telling myself I'm going to polish it and see if it can go anywhere.

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Can't Prove It - Murder-mystery AU where Jason never died and Tim joins the family. I understand its popularity entirely.

What Does the Fourth of July Mean to You? - Timber identity reveal fic set around a Wayne family cookout. This is also one where I understand why people like it. It's a fun romp.

Deux ex Machina - Jason and Death of the Endless. People really like the fics I write with Jason in them, and I think this one got bumped when the Sandman TV show came out.

Bernard Dowd Week 2022 - 7 fics at 500 words each celebrating Bernard. I'm honestly surprised this one is all the way at #4! This was written pretty soon after Tim and Bernard started dating, so it was fun to celebrate the relatively new status quo for Bernard.

Cautionary - Steph and Jason talking. This is the first fic I ever posted, and honestly I have to suspect that its age is what's buoyed it up. I love that people love it, but it's one I look at now and think about how I would remaster it.

5. do you respond to comments?

Yes! I love chatting with folks on AO3. I think there's only ever been one comment I ever chose not to respond to, and it was because the person was just asking me to update an unrelated fic.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Definitely Can't Prove It. I won't say any more than that.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

My Kingdom for a Thin Mint is really fluffy, which is nice. Other than that, Fourth of July.

8. do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully, none so far!

9. do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, but all my currently published smut is in anonymous collections, and the rest is still in my drafts while I try to figure out how to make this blowjob plot bearing.

EDIT: Wait I'm an idiot, yes I wrote Tim/Bart/Kon smut for a Thanksgiving joke challenge. People with superpowers like to tease their friend.

10. do you write crossovers?

I have! The Vigilante is a Welcome to Night Vale crossover, written in the style of a WTNV script. Ghost Dragon is a gen Miraculous Ladybug fic (I know, I know) set in the Batman: Reborn era that reimagines the Miraculouses as having a connection to DC's Lords of Order and Chaos. I took a break from it to dive deeper into the lore, but then never got back around to actually finishing the fic.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge, and I hope it doesn't happen!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. Right now my fics live exclusively in the Anglosphere.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't, but one of my dream projects is to do a round robin-esque, comic book event style fic where three or four authors each write a single chapter with a single character following their own plot, where the chapters all add up to a larger story.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Ooh, this is tough. Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon are eternally one of DC's premier couples in my mind... they have history together, they're both stubborn, they know each other like the backs of their hands.

Overall, I'd say I'm pretty ship neutral. It's just not the primary thing that pulls me through media. Write it compellingly, and I'll probably go for it.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

I had brief and lofty dreams of a reimagined Final Crisis fic that was a little more Kirby and a little less Morrison. (The fact that it would have more of my favorite characters was a perk) It's just a big project to really get into, and I don't know if it'll ever fully get there.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hmm... it's always hard to pull our praise for yourself, because I think most artists often get stuck on seeing the things that didn't quite make the leap from their head to the world. That said, I think my dialogue is pretty good--I generally try to make it always sound like characters talk like real people. I'm also fond of big Plots with moving parts, though I fully accept that's something I'm still in the process of working on.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't often do it, but I do actually have thoughts about it, so I was glad to see this question! Personally, I have come to be against italicizing non-English words. I did it in Ghost Dragon when characters were speaking French, but whenever I update the fic I'm going to change it.

I only like to write dialogue in another language if the characters/readers are not necessarily supposed to immediately understand what's being said. In the case of Ghost Dragon, I had parallel chapters--in Ch 1 we know what the characters are saying, because we're meant to understand them, even though they're technically speaking in French the whole time. But in Ch 2, when it's from a non-French speaker's POV, I write out the French dialogue because the francophones are specifically trying to have a conversation between themselves, excluding those who they think can't understand them.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

First fandom I ever wrote for was either Batman or Star Wars, but which one is anyone's guess.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

I wish The Town O'Mallow got some more love, because it's probably my favorite thing I've written so far. Jean Paul Valley and Selina Kyle go into a Southern Gothic Omelas to save a soul. Other than that, I'm pretty excited for this Oracle: Year One fic I'm working on currently.

I'll pass on some no-pressure tags to @zahri-melitor @upswings @havendance @scintillyyy and @silverwhittlingknife, but if any of y'all have already done this or just don't want to, no pressure! And if anyone else sees this and wants to answer, take this as your tag! Just tag me back so I can see ❤️

[stygiusfic]

hi styg !! i'm really curious about 14 and 15 for those end-of-year writer asks if you feel like talking about it 💖 !!

hi friend!! <333 thank you for the ask!!

14. a fic you didn't expect to write

I haven't posted this yet, but the question doesn't say it has to be posted, so. Inspired by my re-read of The Island of Doctor Moreau by H. G. Wells this summer, I've written 40k words (and counting) of a Critical Role C2 fanfic trapping one of my favorite characters of the campaign, Essek, on the island that steals people's memories away and makes them slaves to the false god in its volcano. (Currently titled The Island of New Beginnings; I have a CR sideblog @bug4bread-sideblog which is where I'll share when it's done.)

It's not Hades, which is all I've posted in the past couple of years, and it doesn't mean my Hades days are over, but man, I'm having a blast playing in this new sandbox. It's also an experiment: I've only mentioned it to a few friends, and plan to start posting only after I finish. I want to see if multi-chapter is easier for me that way. So, unexpected but good!

15. something you learned this year

Feels like I learned a lot! Or gained more confidence in my process; probably a mix of both. (Under a cut because it got long!)

Overall, in the long long years I've been writing, I've written mostly short stories or one-shots, and I've always struggled the most with finishing the initial draft. There's always that perfectionist urge in me that wants to get all the themes and plot elements and character arcs in the right arrangement from the get-go, and if I'm feeling dissatisfied with my direction it's hard to stay motivated.

This year, maybe because I've recently wrangled with longer works, I feel like I'm building some endurance in that regard! You can get lucky with a one-shot and push it out in a day, and get a first draft that’s near perfect, but that’s just not possible with multichapter, for me, and I’ve finally started to accept that.

It's still hard to let go of the urge to polish right away, but I feel like I understand now more deeply that my process relies on multiple passes to get where I want to go. Especially for 20k+ stories, this is what I'm learning to accept as the process:

0.5 — Outline: In-depth outline of the whole story with its ups and downs, with a list of scenes too, and I'll usually outline each scene before I write it. (Who's in the scene? What do they want? How are the things they want out of the scene opposed?). The overall outline will be thin in the second half because I still don't know enough about my story, I'll find out what I'm actually getting at when I start writing it; I’ve learned that This is fine.

1. — First draft: Sometimes inspiration works miracles but waiting for a miracle is not a process. I really feel like this year I got a step closer to accepting that my first draft can and should be rough. It's a draft. It's sinking in that, when I look at my artist friends' progress videos, of course I don't expect them to make a perfect painting without sketching basic shapes first, so why do I keep expecting the writing equivalent of that from myself?

1.5 — Heart Notes list: This has been the game changer in 2022. It's a list of things to fix in a later draft, and/or think about on my next walk. When I'm drafting and dissatisfied with something (why would this character do this? why does this pacing fall flat? etc) or introducing some new element halfway through that I will need to rewrite earlier scenes to set up, I just put it on this list. And I don't think about it anymore for now. I used to compile these notes after the first draft was done, but those issues weigh on me enough that they would often discourage me and keep me from finishing the first draft at all. The list lets me mentally set down the weight of that problem, knowing I will address it later, so I can keep drafting now.

2. — Second draft: My beloved. Here is where I will do the larger rewrites based on my heart notes and rearrange stuff how I need it to be and just generally feel terribly relieved the first draft is behind me.

3. — Final draft: Just tweak some sentence-level stuff to make it read better and clearer, and we're done. (This is what I have always foolishly hoped the second draft would be, which meant I needed the first draft to be close to perfect already... and that’s how I got stuck.)

I still have a long way to go in terms of learning to let the first draft suck as much as it needs to, but I've been feeling a lot more secure in the idea that sucking is part of the process. I struggled a lot with writing in the first half of 2022. It's been getting better, and I think giving myself more leeway to suck at first and then seeing it work out in the end has helped a lot.

I hope 2023 is a good writing year for you (and in general too)!!

[wooahaes]

hi! (first time sending an ask so pls lmk if anyone has this emoji but-) i completely agree w/ u that writers should put a warning or smth that the fanfic will be catered to a certain body type as ive read fanfic w/o that and have felt insecure. not saying these writers are intentionally trying to make ppl feel bad, but they need to realize that sometimes their works do cater to thin/skinny body types and letting readers know that rly isnt a big deal. ty for always speaking ur truth! - 🐱 anon

hi nonny! im gonna answer all ur asks in one go <3 (no need to apologize for spamming! i had a moment of 'oh fuck did i say something wrong' but thats just anxiety brain speaking haha)

honestly! i genuinely don't mind if writers wanna intentionally write works for a thinner reader, it'd just be nice for them to write in a little warning at the beginning of the fic <3 i write chubby readers and mark 'em with chubby!reader so my audience knows, nothing wrong w doing it the other way around!

i also wanna say, i remember looking up "seventeen x chubby reader", "svt x chubby reader", or smth along those lines on tumblr but just knowing almost nothing will pop up 💔. until i saw a little fanfic called "tiger stripes" and was baffled that someone actually wrote something that had someone like me in mind. i remember feeling and being so happy about it. just thank you for your svt x chubby reader works because u make us chubby carats feel so seen 🫶🏼 - 🐱 anon

aaaa ty lovely!! im a chubby gal myself so i love writing chubby!reader fics from time to time when inspiration strikes <3 usually i try to keep everything body neutral so that anyone can enjoy my fics (even in my chubby reader fics, i try not to specify how big reader is so that anyone bigger can enjoy them), but sometimes i just gotta aim something for the chubby gals out there <3 tiger stripes is one of my most beloved fics and it genuinely makes me happy to think of my own stretch marks as tiger stripes hehe <3

ah anyway !! hope im not a bother w/ my asks !! i just wanted to tell u this despite my shyness bc idk, i rly feel like u needed to hear it 🙏🏼 anyway, i also wanna add ur a rly good writer and keep on doing what ur doing 👍🏼 - 🐱 anon

u are 100000% fine!! i love talking to anons and ur always welcome to pop into my inbox whenever you feel like it <3 + it does always help to hear that other chubby carats enjoy my work!! mwah mwah ur so sweet

tw fatphobia mentions (nothing explicitly fatphobic tho) // omg though.. i remember finding this [redacted] x reader fic and bc it appeared under the [removed] tag (smth like that) and i assumed that it was catered to fat ppl. but unfortunately it turned out to be incredibly fatphobic w/ it's themes, plot, + y/n. im not saying u have to be fat to write "x fat reader" fanfic but perhaps step away from writing for ppl u have no understanding of if ur gna write stuff like that.. - 🐱 anon

redacting the guy + the tag from your ask purely to try and avoid anyone tracking down the writer by any means! i trust my followers to not do something like that, but i'd feel better reducing that risk in any way <3

oh yikes! i think like... its worth it to sometimes address fatphobia in writing, but that kind of stuff 100% needs a warning! one of my current fic ideas involves a reader who is confident in her body but kinda relapses back to a previous mindset of 'maybe i Should be ashamed of it' after being fully insulted for being a bigger gal and the fic would absolutely have a warning.

i do agree that you def do not have to be a bigger person to write chubby/fat reader fics, but its definitely something you need to be mindful of when you wanna handle the heavier topics. im always happy to weigh in with my own thoughts + experiences, and im sure other people would be, too! no shame in trying to address it in themes/plot, but there's def a difference between endorsing those ideas and discussing them (and i'll say i have no idea which was being done in this fic)

(btw: no one go looking for this writer to say anything to them btw, we do not promote harassment on this blog--anon ur 100% fine to express ur opinions since i've seen fatphobia in reader fics, too, and it's okay to express discomfort with the idea. i'm always open to discussing things as long as they don't point too directly to anyone's work--and i'm equally open to taking down anything that pinpoints a certain writer.)

anyway ur 100% fine to send as many asks as u want!! im always happy to talk to people esp abt topics like this (or in general too!) <3 ty for being polite tho mwah mwah ur v cute

[amtrak12]

Ooph, calling my current fic struggles “middle book syndrome” is just... Too Accurate. I don’t like it. I don’t want it to feel like a middle book! I want it to be a good story!

Though, I do understand that the true purpose of Books 2 and 3 are to entertain the readers who aren’t ready to leave my world behind. Because Book 1 honestly can stand entirely on its own! I don’t need sequels! I designed it that way on purpose because I have the epilogue of toddler Rory returning home to a changed timeline so the reader knows the happy ending. What they don’t know is how we got there. They don’t need to know that. It really doesn’t matter. But I thought it would be fun to explore Lucifer and Chloe taking the long way to meet back up with their daughter, because the last we see of S3 Lucifer and Chloe is them grief-stricken over saying goodbye to their daughter.

And by god I want to explore that grief. This isn’t like canon where Chloe is already pregnant with Rory when they say goodbye to their adult daughter. This is S3. It’s going to be years before they see her again. YEARS. They had their toddler daughter for two months! They were fully adjusted to being coparents and now their daughter is just -- gone. I want to eat that angst with a spoon like it’s ice cream with chocolate syrup and rainbow sprinkles. It’s fucking delicious!

There’s also the fun awkwardness of them still not being a romantic couple but they know they’re going to have a daughter in the future. That’s not going to put any weird pressure on them that will mess with their heads! :P And I want to explore that too, so that’s the other purpose of the sequels. Just allowing me to continue playing in this universe. It is purely self-indulgent for both me and the readers.

Doesn’t mean I want it to suffer middle book syndrome, though. I do think the grief exploration will make it compelling enough to not feel like a middle book. The real problem comes from incorporating the S4 plot into this. Sure I could ignore it, obviously. But I’ve decided I do want Lucifer to have to go back to Hell for a bit, because I absolutely adore the idea of Book 3 opening with it being a year exactly before Rory is meant to be born, and Lucifer’s not on Earth. That sounds delicious and is perfect given that the final scene of the series will be Chloe learning she’s pregnant. Now the main plot of Book 3 is them trying to confirm the timeline has been changed because they both want to ensure Lucifer will be there to raise Rory. They have no idea the timeline has already changed. All they know is the few things Rory mentioned have all happened. So they focus on stopping the one thing that hasn’t happened yet: Dan’s death. (Hence the title: Save the Douche, Save the World.) (The readers will already know Dan lives thanks to Book 1′s epilogue but that’s not the point. The point is the characters don’t know that.)

So, yeah I need the demon invasion still and I’m actually good with keeping the rabid priest and his prophecy because I’m moving up Chloe learning she’s a gift from God to the S4 era in this series, and prophecies mesh well with free will struggles from a thematic standpoint. Eve comes back to Earth for this too. Her storyline will obviously go differently from canon but I’m not sure exactly what journey it takes yet. So that’s some of the cloudiness I’m dealing with. I also want to foreshadow Michael’s push to become God, but it is going to stay at foreshadowing. I thought about pulling him into a more active role early, but I’ve ruled that out now.

... Though if I’m having Abel be the first soul to make it from Hell to Heaven... and that’s happening in Book 1.... Maybe I don’t need a demon invasion to pull Lucifer back to Hell....

Okay thank you everyone for letting me talk to thin air! I now have something productive to think about! :D

[practically-an-x-man]

Fanfic ask game :)

👀 📥 🖊 🏅📚 👩‍🏭 😈

thank you!!! You're amazing bestie!!

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

I've got one at the moment I think, more of an idea than a WIP bc it's not technically on the page yet. I don't know if I'd post it even if I did write it because 1. the fandom is abysmally tiny (I don't think there's even a tag for the movie on AO3 yet), 2. it's very self-indulgent and probably on the verge of a lazy/unrealistic plot, and 3. I just feel like it would go dead even if I did post it, so obviously my other fics are going to take precedence

📥 What is your fave fic to receive comments/messages on?

I mean, I love them all. I don't get very many comments on my fics in general, so I really treasure every one. That being said, I feel like people are really engaged with Who Waits Forever Anyway?, so I get some pretty dynamic comments there, and I really wish people would comment on Desert Song because so far nobody has and I feel like it's some of my best writing

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

Alright, here's a bit from the next chapter of Bolts and Blasters, my Star Wars fic:

A bit of the truth leached into those final words, and maybe that was why he didn’t question it. Poe just nodded, though his lips pressed into a thin, uneasy line. 

“Don’t know how much you’ll find,” he admitted, “Everywhere’s tapped dry. We had ships coming in from practically every habitable planet, and they all need to recover after that. You’ll be lucky to find bacta.”

“You’re so encouraging.” Indigo huffed, giving him a look, “But I have to try.”

Again, she found glimpses of truth amid the lie. She hated that she couldn’t tell him more. She hated that she had to dodge his questions like this. She hated to lie to a friend.

With luck, it wouldn’t matter. He’d learn that it was a ruse within a day, yes, but he’d forgive her if it all worked out. 

If. 

Indigo sighed, and stepped forward long enough to pull him into a hug. If he thought that was strange, a farewell hug for a supposedly-brief supply run, he didn’t breathe a word of it. She’d been a little shaky these past few weeks, after all. He wouldn’t begrudge her a bit of support after everything she’d lost. 

When she pulled back, Poe’s brows had drawn inwards with suspicion. She took a step back, swallowing hard. 

“Good luck on your mission.” he told her, and didn’t say anything more. His posture was stiff, mechanical. He’d probably already guessed it. He was rowdy, yes, but he’d never been a stupid man.

Indie grit her teeth, forcing herself to turn away. 

🏅 What is something you recently felt proud of in regard to your writing (finished a fic, actually planned for once, etc).

The last two chapters I posted, on two different fics, were both over 7k words long, and I thought they were both very good. And I'm devilishly proud of how much emotional damage I've put my readers through in Bolts and Blasters, particularly since I've already started writing the resolution to it.

📚 Do you read your own fic?

All the time lol. I write it for me, so of course I reread it.

👩‍🏭 If one of your fics was going to get you arrested, which one and why?

Desert Song or Nom De Guerre. I'd like to think that my depictions of thievery, pickpocketing, coup d'etats, underground crime groups, and whatever else that writing 6 Underground fanfiction entails is decently accurate (or at least enough for suspension of disbelief)... but is it TOO accurate?

😈 Is there anything you enjoy doing that you think your readers hate?

I have a few fics where the main character's POV is in first-person perspective, and I know that's pretty polarizing. I still write most of my fics in third-person and even a few in second, but there's a certain level of perspective and closeness in first-person that you really can't quite get in the others. It feels more like they're telling their stories, rather than having this omniscient or godly Narrator walking them through it. I don't use it all the time (only 2 of my fics use first-person, and both also have POV shifts to other characters, which are written in third-person) but I think it can be very powerful when it's done right.

[nanzyn]

i’ve scrolled through (most of, I keep specific filters on and refuse to take them off) the rottmnt tag on ao3 and I'm really sad that I havent come across the exact post-s2/movie disaster twin body-swap fic that lives in my head :/

like i want it to happen either cause of a mutant or cause mikey was practicing with his new mystic abilities and then just Chaos ensues

i want leo-as-donnie not knowing how to use the battle shells and accidentally wrecking a thing or two while donnie-as-leo panics

i want donnie having to tie together the long tails of leo’s bandana into a comically large bow cause they irritated him so much and leo threatened to lose his shit if donnie cut them short

i want leo refusing to draw on donnie’s signature eyebrows until they really start to fade and donnie essentially ties him to a chair and draws them on himself (or leo begrudgingly sits down one night and does them (they turn out bad but donnie appreciates it))

i want them feeling each other’s chronic pains. leo not realizing how much it hurts to have the battle shell on for as long as donnie usually has it on. and (specifically post movie) donnie feeling the chronic after effects of the krang’s onslaught when leo’s body has a chronic pain flare up (and since neither really complain about it both are like taken aback by how much pain their brother is in at any given point in time)

but most importantly i want a scene with both of them trying to teach each other their weapons because (for plot reasons) their specific nimpo powers didn’t follow them into their new bodies

so leo trying to teach donnie how to make portals and it going Not Well. like, raph having to make the rule “no one goes through the portal unless we can see the other one” bad. (they end up having to walk back from new jersey)

and donnie trying to teach leo how to summon tech using his bo and leo thinking it’s gonna be easy, just think of a cool rocket or something, and then donnie slaps down the schematics for something and tells him he essentially needs to know the ins and outs of anything he wants to make

and thats just the powers part of it. both of them having to learn the basics of using each weapon. leo doesn’t take it seriously at first but when he finally does donnie is surprised with how good he actually is at teaching (even if he doesn’t use the quote-unquote right terminology (“you gotta do a lil fancy footwork thing when you move like that” “feel the vibes, does it feel right?” etc)) donnie gets frustrated easily when he tries to teach leo (“no you do not swing a bo like a baseball bat!”) but leo eventually calms down and takes it serious(ly enough) for some of donnie’s lessons to get through

(at some point the boys try to play basketball and raph and mikey make them play on their own team and they get their asses hilariously handed to them.

until they play again after the scene(s) where they learn each other’s weapons and then they’re Simpatico (they still lose but not by as much))

and then the thing gets reversed somehow and they grow closer as brothers the end

[irrelevantwriter]

Embracing Misery

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, funny Rio (he got jokes), secret feelings (bc I love to torture my characters)

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: Part 3. Rio returns and you decide to take some initiative. 

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the love and support on these Rio fics! It truly means so much and I am so glad you’re enjoying them. I now bring you part three of a saga that was not at all planned, but has somehow happened anyway. I blame the Rio haze I’m still very much in and my zero chill tendencies. If you guys haven't read parts one and two, then I recommend doing so, for plot purposes. I have some more things planned for this duo so we’ll see what my muse brings. Until then, I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

*Read Part 1 here

*Read Part 2 here

*Read Part 4 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

***********************

It was early.

The house was blessedly quiet while your children stayed at their father’s house for the weekend. You soaked up the stillness of the early morning sun rays and crisp, cool air. They washed over you, as if cleansing what the previous night’s sleep hadn’t. You missed your kids like crazy while they were away, but the mornings alone were priceless. It was a time for you to prepare for the day. A luxury you hadn’t been afforded since before the kids were born. But now...now you got to take it all in. Enjoy the serenity.

Or so you thought.

You tied the sash of your robe as you opened the front door, preparing to grab the morning paper, but as soon as you turned the knob you knew what would be waiting on the other side. Something told you he was there. You didn’t need to look out onto the street to see the familiar sleekness of a dark tinted luxury car. You could feel him. Feel his eyes on you as you bent down to get the paper and turned, leaving the front door wide open.

Rio had been gone for nearly two months. You hadn’t seen or spoken to the man in that long. Not even a text message, though the thought had crossed your mind on more than one occasion. You had no idea where he’d been or what he’d been doing while he was away, but you’d had no choice but to conduct business as usual. Mick had been your contact, times and places for drop-offs exactly as Rio had set them up. It was as if he was still running things from wherever he was. As if he could somehow see you without actually seeing you.

During his time away you’d done nothing but think of when he’d return. You teetered on the edge of worry and longing as your thoughts raced between concern for your boss slash lover to outright arousal. You’d spent more than one night thinking about his hands on your body while yours tried desperately to replicate his touch. It would get the job done, but it was nothing compared to that gentle slide of hand or gravelly voice that sent literal shivers up your spine. Your body had missed him. And you had come to the realization that you did too.

You walked into your kitchen, hearing the click of the front door as he passed through the threshold. You went straight for the humming coffee pot, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet.

“Coffee?” You asked over your shoulder, not at all surprised to hear the shakiness in your voice.

“Sure.”

Your entire body thrummed to life at that solitary sound. You hadn’t even laid eyes on him yet and already your thighs were clenching together. Your nipples hardened against the thin fabric of your tank top, your black robe barely concealing the reaction. You poured the coffee with unsteady hands, preparing yourself to face him once again.

When you turned around, you were greeted with a familiar smirk and a magnificent throat tattoo. A tattoo that you’d missed. He looked exactly the same. Same dark button-up. Same dark jeans. Same intense eyes. Same addictive swagger. It all came together to seduce you into a trance. A trance you’d fallen victim to in the past. It was a fog of uncertainty and lust. It was powerful. Merciless. And you couldn’t stop it from taking you hostage if you tried. So...you embraced it.

You slid the mug of coffee across the kitchen island towards him, a gesture that had you experiencing déjà vu. He accepted it and the sugar you offered. You watched as he dressed his beverage. Two spoonfuls of sugar. No milk or cream. He stirred it and then sipped, nodding in approval at the taste. The entire display was odd...domestic even.

His eyes trailed over your body before coming to rest on your face.

“Did you miss me, mama?” He asked cheekily, white teeth on display. They bit sensually into his bottom lip, the action making warmth seep deep into your bones.

You laughed. You’d missed the banter. Missed his blatant want for you. It was a cruel punishment to take away someone’s drug of choice. Rio just so happened to be yours. And you’d been experiencing withdrawals for the last two months. You desperately needed a hit. Needed something to take the edge off.

“Hardly.” You quipped, smiling so that he could see the lie clearly written on your face.

He only stared back. The action was still unnerving.

You turned to pour your own cup of coffee, feeling his gaze ghost across your back. You busied yourself with adding cream and sugar, the clang of the spoon against ceramic the only sound reverberating throughout the house. You took a few cursory sips, testing the temperature of the liquid. It was hot. Too hot. But you drank it anyway.

Turning around to face Rio once again, you were surprised to find the spot across the island empty. Your eyes darted around the immediate area, catching a glimpse of him lounging on your sofa. The same sofa he’d fucked you against. Along with the kitchen island.

You left your drink behind, bare feet walking with a purpose across the cold wood floors. You rounded the sofa and took him in. One leg was crossed over the other, his mug resting against his knee as he steadied it with one hand. His free arm extended along the back of the couch, taking up a fair amount of space on the piece of furniture.

He was a picture of comfort and ease. Looking as if he belonged there. You supposed in that moment, he did.

You observed him for a long time. Long enough for his face to grow serious as he stared up at you. A myriad of emotions swirled within you. All of them seemed to be conflicting. They pushed and pulled in various directions, telling you what you should do while others persuaded you to do what you wanted to do. In the end none of it mattered. You’d already sold your soul to the devil long before you got into bed with him. It was time to accept that.

You wordlessly reached for his drink, moving the mug onto the coffee table. He let you, uncrossing his legs and watching you with a sharp eye. You grasped for the knot that held your robe together and pulled the two ends apart, feeling the material start to give way. It fell open to reveal the tank top and shorts you wore underneath. It was a far cry from lingerie, but it sent the same message. You wore no bra, an obvious fact as his eyes hungrily took you in. Your shorts were cut high, practically underwear and exposing more leg than you would’ve normally felt comfortable with. The robe fell from your shoulders and into a heap at your feet.

You swallowed, feeling the butterflies in your stomach begin to take flight. You focused on him. You focused on the way he looked at you. And how he made you feel. You let that be your guide as you pulled your top up and over your head. The garment joined the robe on the floor as you moved on to your shorts, pulling them down and letting them slide along your thighs. You were left in your demure cotton panties. You were only slightly embarrassed by their modesty, but Rio showed no inclination that he was put off. In fact, his mouth twitched, his lower half shifting against the couch.

You looped your fingers into the waistband of the cotton and pushed them down, baring yourself completely. He’d never seen you naked. Your previous trysts had been rushed with clothes shifted aside and out of the way in frenzied yearning. It’d never been thought out before. And now, here you were standing naked in your own living room, seducing the man you were sure wanted to kill you about as much as he wanted to fuck you.

It was exhilarating.

“What’re you doing?” Rio rasped, gaze locked with yours. His voice was low and tinged with desire. He looked equal parts amused and perplexed, and the thought of him trying to be a gentleman in your current state of undress only made your need for him strengthen.

“Sshh...” You soothed, stepping between his spread legs and straddling his lap.

His hands immediately gripped around your waist, the touch of his bare flesh against yours sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You kissed him, hands sliding up his chest and resting on the buttons of his shirt. He reciprocated your eagerness, lips moving with yours. Your tongue reached out to taste him and he accepted, his hands kneading the flesh of your ass in approval. Your lower body writhed in his lap, feeling the firm muscle resting beyond his zipper.

You longed to feel his skin against yours. To feel the proof of life beat against your own chest. To feel close to him in a way you hadn’t thus far. Your fingers moved swiftly to grant you the sensation you craved. You unfastened each button, pulling his shirt apart and gliding your palms over the smooth muscle of his chest. His hips thrust up into yours restlessly as you explored his upper body. Your lips had yet to detach from each other, completely lost in reuniting. Your nails lightly grazed down his chest and abdomen, feeling him reciprocate the action by nibbling your lip.

His touch scorched your skin, roaming freely. He cupped your heaving breasts, mouth moving to your neck as he attacked your skin with kisses. You threw your head back in blessed relief and pleasure, finally feeling as if you could breathe again. You maneuvered your hands between your bodies, aiming for his belt buckle. You were impatient. Unable to wait for him to fill you. You’d waited long enough. The abundance of slickness that slid from your walls could attest to that.

“Mmmm...” He growled against your neck when you finally pulled him free, your palm easily smoothing over the hard length. His hips rutted into your touch, his own impatience showing.

You moaned when his lips attached to a nipple and sucked. He tortured you with sensations, bouncing between gentle and unyielding. His mouth was hot and wet against your flesh, encouraging your arousal to new heights. You craved more.

Again you took the initiative and lifted your hips, angling his length to fit against your weeping slit. He pulled away from your chest and took you in, watching as you slowly impaled yourself on his cock. Your lips parted as you engulfed him, your breathing accelerating with every inch he filled you. It’d been too long and your body was taut, clenching around him in such a way that let him know just how much you’d missed his touch.

“Fuck…” He groaned when you finally bottomed out, your thighs flush with his. His fingers gripped your hips, his body completely still and waiting for you to move. His brow was furrowed, his lips pouted as he took in measured breaths. He almost looked in pain as you sat unmoving atop him. The notion pleased you.

You moaned when he shifted, his cock nudging your womb. You couldn’t prolong the torture anymore and began to swirl your hips, your palms flat against his chest. It was a new dynamic for you both. Being able to control the moment with him was not something you were used to. His demanding nature was something you secretly loved, but having him at your mercy like this was so much better. You could see every pass of ecstasy on his face. Feel it in the way he twitched inside you. It was addicting.

His calloused hands massaged your breasts as you rode him, his dark eyes glazed over with lust but still holding you captive. He slid along your walls, stretching and filling you to capacity. You only got wetter at the feel of him, the slickness so overwhelming that he almost fell from your tight clutches. You used his shoulders for leverage as you moved, your pace increasing, desperate to come undone with him.

“Damn...yeah, just like that.” Rio exhaled, hands encouraging your hips to keep their speed.

He licked his lips as you bounced, flesh slapping as you fucked yourself. You watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he sucked his thumb into his mouth and then attached it to your clit, rubbing the swollen flesh in sensual circles. You arched your back and whimpered, feeling the tendrils of climax begin to latch on.

“I’m gonna cum.” You confessed, feeling your skin slicken with perspiration. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he continued his assault on your clit, your teeth biting into your bottom lip to keep the moans at bay.

“Do it, mama.” He throatily demanded, leaving no room for argument.

“C-cum...with me.” You pleaded between breaths. He nipped at the underside of your chin and you swore you could feel his smirk against your flesh.

He didn’t waste another second.

You held on as Rio’s hips met yours, his cock hitting your cervix with a brutality that had you seeing stars. Your muscles spasmed from the inside out, your limbs locking as you came. Your walls clamped around him in stuttering patterns, giving him no other option but to feel it all. You held him to you as you shook, feeling yourself dripping down your thighs and his length. He continued to fuck you through it, his control now waning. He buried his face into your chest and neck, holding you just as tightly as he repeatedly thrust up into you.

“Inside me...please.” You found yourself begging, exhausted from your own euphoria but still wanting to feel him release deep within you. It was a sensation you thrived on. It meant he was real. That he wasn’t a figure in the night or a lone man with a gun. He’d been inside you. Painted your walls in him. Claimed you. And you wanted to feel that for as long as you could.

“You want it?” He grunted against your neck, hands digging so hard into your ass that the area would surely be sore afterwards. It was welcomed after his prolonged absence. Just another clue that he’d been there.

“Please…” You whimpered, uncaring that you sounded so desperate.

He said nothing in return. Only thrust harder as he finally came. He held you still against him, ensuring not a drop of his cum left your joined bodies. You reveled in the warmth that suddenly filled you, spreading your thighs wider across his lap. His teeth dragged along your collarbone, eliciting a shiver from you.

It was quiet for a moment, your labored breathing slowly steadying with the beating of your heart. You were pressed against his bare chest, his hands now smoothing across your flesh rather than gripping it. The sensation nearly put you to sleep.

“So you missed me then?” Rio teased, his voice raspier than normal.

You sat up straight, looking down into his eyes that were glinting back at you with boyish arrogance. You cracked a smile and shook your head.

“I’m not answering that.”

“You didn’t have to, darling.” He whispered, face growing serious as he tenderly shifted the few strands of hair that stuck to your forehead.

Laughter bubbled in your throat suddenly, effectively cutting through the moment. His fingers drifted to your lips, tracing them as you broke into a smile.

“Somethin’ funny?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. His own lips quirked up at the sound of your tired giggles, your body shaking above him.

“We haven’t made it to a bed yet.” You said between laughs, pulling his hand from your mouth and resting it on your cheek instead. You held onto his forearm, the sinewy muscle feeling sturdy under your touch.

“There’s still time.” He retorted with a sly smile, his eyes taking in your face in a careful study. The intensity of it was almost enough to make you feel bashful.

You were lost in the moment, ready to let him take you again when a knock at the front door sounded. You scrambled up, hearing a key in the knob.

“Fucking Paul.” You cursed as you grabbed your discarded robe and hastily tied the sash. “Get dressed.” You ordered Rio, that smug smirk still planted firmly on his lips.

You moved past him and through the dining room to the front door, seeing your ex shuffle through the door with a baseball bag thrown over his shoulder. Your son’s bag. He must’ve forgotten something for his game today.

“You mind?” You snapped at him, throwing a quick glance behind you to ensure he couldn’t see Rio through the entryway.

“Well, I called but you didn’t answer. Figured you were still asleep.” Paul supplied with a nonchalant shrug.

“You couldn’t wait until I actually answered the door instead of using a key? A key I was sure I got back from you.”

He rolled his eyes, not making any move to return the item.

Bastard.

“What’re you doing here, Paul?”

“Anthony forgot his mitt. Needs it for the game today.”

You inwardly rolled your eyes, both at your ex and your son. They were mirror images of each other and that extended to their forgetfulness.

You walked to the entryway bench and lifted the pillow, knowing it would be stuck there because that’s where Anthony always left his gear after a game.

“Here.” You said shortly, thrusting the glove over to him. The sooner he got it, the sooner he’d be gone.

The universe was a cruel bitch though.

A shuffling from behind you pulled both yours and Paul’s attention. You tensed as Rio rounded the corner, clothes neatly tucked back into place. He eyed your ex for a long moment, making both you and Paul uncomfortable.

“I-uh...this-,” You stumbled over your words, at a loss for how to proceed. “He was just checking on some things around the house.” You lamely offered.

“What things?” Paul threw back with a raised brow, obviously not buying your answer.

“Just taking a look at her pipes.” Rio quipped, making you cough.

The air was awkward and tense as the two men sized each other up. You could see the suspicion in Paul’s eyes as he took in Rio’s very notable tattoo. Paul’s gaze flicked to yours, attempting to read your face. You opened your mouth to cut through the silence, but Rio beat you to it.

“I gotta go. I’ll be in touch.” He said, facing you and biting his lip. The action was purposeful. A signal of sorts.

You nodded and crossed your arms, watching with bated breath as he walked past Paul. He stared at the man as if he was a nuisance, giving him a quick once over before chuckling and exiting out the door. You released a sigh of relief once the door latched, your shoulders easing now that he’d left. A wave of disappointment followed. You were hoping to spend more time with him before he ultimately disappeared again. You were sure you’d see him at your next drop off now that he was back, but that was still days away. And you’d be damned if you reached out to the man for anything other than business-related topics.

You’d just have to wait.

“Friend of yours?” Paul interrupted your thoughts, face twisted in disapproval.

“He was here to check the pipes. They were making a weird noise. Wanted to make sure they didn’t freeze over.” You explained, your attitude back in full force.

“Sure.” He replied flatly, eyes belatedly taking in your state of undress. “You should put some decent clothes on when you have strange men in the house.”

The chastising tone of his voice made you see red. It was one of the reasons you’d divorced him. Along with the infidelity. And his tendency to be an egotistical piece of shit. Your reaction was a completely different reaction to Rio’s reprimands. Rio made you feel alive...desired. Paul’s goal was to always control and make you feel less than. He’d lost that fight throughout your marriage, but that didn’t stop him from continuing to do so long after it’d ended.

“You need to go.” You demanded between clenched teeth, opening the door for him and gesturing him out.

He took the hint and walked outside to the porch, shaking his head as he did.

“The kids wanted all of us to go out to dinner. Including Erica.” He said as he turned to face you, hand held to the door that you were ready to slam in his face.

You fought the urge to scoff at the mention of his fiancé and instead nodded, a pleasant smile on your lips and pure hate in your heart.

“Sure. Text me details. I’ve gotta go before this cum running down my leg stains the carpet.”

Paul’s face was priceless. And you had the pleasure of slamming the door in it. You smiled victoriously to yourself. The unexpected visit wasn’t so bad after all.

Your two worlds were getting harder to keep separated. That was apparent after the debacle that just took place. Rio was a significant presence in your life. And it was in more than just a working relationship way. That was obvious now. But were you really ready to let that happen? To let him in? The answer was still no. It would always be no. But sleeping with your boss had to have some benefits. And you were willing to find out exactly what those were. Misery and all.

[hansolmates]

jjk; off-league

summary; you decide to do a little boudoir photoshoot for yourself—a little sexy lingerie, some bunny ears, maybe even a little nudity to make you feel more body positive about yourself. that little photoshoot doesn’t end up being for yourself anymore when you accidentally send those sexy pictures to your stupidly hot, stupidly talented childhood friend who you haven’t spoken to since middle school graduation.  pairing; photographer!jk x fem!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers!au, flangst, mutual pining, feelings of insecurity and body image, suggestive language, nudity  w.c; 6.2k a/n: i was feeling a lil meh about this fic after finishing it but a month later it finally makes its debut! for @btsghostiewritersnet​ BGW Bingo Bash! today’s trope is “childhood friends to lovers” which surprisingly isn’t a favorite of mine so it was definitely a challenge to write! 

“C’mon, I need your opinion. Deadass. Don’t just say shit to make me feel better.” 

“Gimmie those nudes, baby girl,” Johnny makes an impeccable fuckboy impersonation, making you feel a little squirmy to your stomach. 

It’s an hour away from being the ass-crack’o-dawn and your impromptu pin-up photoshoot just needs the sexy-star-of-approval from your best friend. Johnny Suh is also up for reasons unmentioned, but you had a feeling his pretty boyfriend is fifty percent of the reason. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your frame against the black bodice of the sheer teddy. The only parts that are fully concealed are the parts that don’t matter. The sheer bodice reveals your pert nipples concealed by a thin black mesh, coupled with the deep V in the sweetheart neckline, accented by a little black bow in the dive of your highlighted cleavage. The silky a-line raceways to a set of black garters hugging your thighs, barely hanging onto a pair of lace thigh-highs. 

It doesn’t leave you butt naked, but enough to make you feel confident about yourself. These pictures are for you, and Johnny. And Johnny’s boyfriend if he’s being nosy. 

You tug off the silk bunny ears from your head, flinging it somewhere in your room. The wire started to dig in your brain, giving you a major headache. 

“Sending them now,” you hang up and start compiling the pictures in a folder on Google Drive. Once that’s done you copy the shareable link, sending it to Johnny’s number. It happens all so fast, and you feel kind of giddy. As you were posing for the camera, taking your time to find all the right angles, you felt good, you felt sexy in your little get up. Channeling your inner Ariana Grande was one of your childhood dreams, your fifteen year old self would be proud. 

Five minutes pass, fifteen, and by the twenty-five minute mark you’re pissed. What’s taking Johnny so long? 

Makeup scrubbed clean and face bare, you shuffle in your duvet, far too tired to be waiting up this long. Punching in his number once more, you cry, “Hey! Why haven’t you looked at them yet?” 

“What?” your friend’s voice sounds pebbly through the line. Was Johnny sleeping? “You never sent them!” he whines tiredly. 

“No, I definitely sent them!” you pull the phone away and keep Johnny on call, ready to prove him wrong. 

But to your surprise, the last message you sent to Johnny was this afternoon. 

The most recent message is to a person named John Kook. 

You scream. 

Johnny screams back at you with an equal amount of force, “What the fuck? Did someone break in? Are you being mobbed? See, this is why I wanted to put the baby monitor in your room—” 

“Worse!” you’re well prepared for any break in, but not for this. “I sent my pics to the wrong John!” 

“Well… is he at least cute?” 

“I mean, in the fourth grade he looked pretty cute with that front tooth missing,” you find your output of frustration, your bunny plush, pulling it by the ear and hitting it against the bed. “His name isn’t even John! It was just his English name for a silly project we did in middle school. This is so embarrassing, all I can picture is a twelve-year-old Jungkook mortified from sexual harassment. I basically sent him nudes!” 

“Tasteful nudes.” 

“I’m gonna die.” 

“He’s gonna die, of happiness.” 

Jeon Jungkook was a classmate from elementary through middle school. Time and time again was he the object of your affections, from the first grade at the roller rink to the speech he made at graduation. But really, who cares? You’re old and have a job, and it’s not like you’ve communicated with any of your former classmates. 

Your horror amplifies when the Delivered receipt is changed to Read 3:41AM. 

“Fuck! Fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget he saw it!” you cry, “does he still have my number? What if he deleted my contact, would that be even weirder?” 

“Girl, stop.” Johnny sighs, and you can already picture him running his thumb between his brows. “This doesn’t change anything, alright? You two don’t know each other anymore. Block his number and go to sleep.” 

Johnny leaves you alone after that, and you’re left alone to mull over the implications of sending Jeon Jungkook your nude photoshoot. 

You do block his number, knowing that waiting for a reply would drive you nuts. The one thing that you do which is possibly worse, is look him up on Instagram. 

Of course, he’s stupid hot. 

He doesn’t seem to like being on the receiving end of the camera however, in favor of his timeline being filled with romantic shots of the beach and city. In between the picturesque views and watercolor sunsets do you see glimpses of him and his current life. You can’t help but smile when you see him with his brother and parents during his college graduation, easily towering over all of them. He looks tall with fluffy cocoa hair, big pearly whites gleaming proudly at the camera. He grew up well. 

To torture yourself even more, you even look through his story. Twelve hours ago, he was at the gym lifting weights. Normally, you’d be disgusted by people trying to show off their grunt faces drenched in sweat, but of course Jungkook has to have on a silly smile and pump his fist up after he deadlifts. The sweat clinging to his shirt is also a high plus. His gorgeous display of abs has your hands fluttering over your own belly. Maybe you need to exercise more. 

Four hours ago, you see him and a pretty woman with their cheeks squished together, using the puppy filter. Of course he has a girlfriend. 

Reluctant, you open up your Google Drive and scroll through your photoshoot. Deflated, you frown at the pictures that once made you beam with pride, picking at every little detail that bothered you. You really can’t believe you sent these to Jeon Jungkook, no longer a fourth grader with one front tooth, but a man way out of your league. 

By the time you will yourself to sleep, the sun peeks from the horizon, telling you to move on. 

“Hey Gyu,” you tiptoe over to the table much too small for Mingyu’s frame. The string bean is slumped over his iPad pro, drawing intently at some chibi OCs. “Got a plot for that one?” you ask, pointing at the little pink and blue creature decorating the screen. 

Mingyu grunts in reply, obviously engrossed. It isn’t until you slide him a matcha frappe from Starbucks that he becomes intelligible, muttering a “thank you” as he blends with his pen. 

Sensing that it’s going to be awhile before you get through to him, you take your usual rounds around the front desk and lobby of the cosy photo studio. There’s pretty pictures of Mingyu’s work, along with the other employees Minghao and Hoseok. Each section of the wall features a different taste of each person’s interest. Mingyu is a divine lover of soft bed sheets and hot tea, many of his photographs and paintings featuring cafes or perfectly messy beds you’ve seen on hotel advertisements. Minghao is a tasteful artisan, splotches of color retaliating against neutral backgrounds. Finally, Hoseok manages to find balance in the people, large cityscapes telling both large and small stories.

“Alright,” Mingyu’s deep voice forces you to curl your head, where he’s sipping at his drink with haste. “What’cha here for?” 

You frown, “Don’t you remember? I told you last week I’d be stopping by to get my photos developed,” you gesture to the Pentax in your hands, an heirloom from your great-aunt. While you did take digital photos for sending them to Johnny, the ones you wanted developed were taken side-by-side with the film camera. You figured that film would give a little more authenticity to your photoshoot. 

“Shit, that’s today?” the camera falls like deadweight, slapping against your sweater as you watch Mingyu frantically look through his digital calendar. He looks at you, dejected. “How many prints?” 

“I don’t know, maybe like six. Or eight?” 

“That’s gonna take too long, I’m heading down to Hidden Grounds for a vision meeting at two.” 

“Alright, I’m free all day. What about after?”

“Nah, you came all this way. I can just let the new guy help you.” and Mingyu makes a show of cupping his hands in the direction of the open hallway, “Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Get your cute ass out here!” 

The Pentax around your neck suddenly feels like weight akin to a two-ton boulder, and you surge forward, not caring that the corner of the table is digging into your belly. “Mingyu,” you garble, and Mingyu is shell-shocked by the desperation in your eyes. “Isn’t Minghao around or something? Or I can come back another time? These photos are really personal and I don’t feel comfortable having a stranger see them.”

“What? We’re professionals, don’t belittle us.” 

“No, seriously,” you whine, you tug at the collar of his denim jacket, noses practically touching. “These pictures are different. My tits are out and my legs are spread—”

“—interrupting something?” 

You hear some shuffling, and you turn around to see Jeon Jungkook’s back, comically turned to face the entrance. 

And damn, he did have a cute ass. Nothing is going to hide the glory in those jeans, absolutely nothing. 

“Hilarious,” Mingyu drawls, and you push him away. “Forget it, Kook. She doesn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger develop her photos.” 

Sensing that it’s safe to turn around, you watch as his black bangs flutter as he faces you. You hope your body language doesn’t betray how you’re really feeling, because you are a mere mortal and you’re weak in the presence of god-like figures. 

“Oh, what a relief then,” he smiles at you, and his voice sounds like honey. If there was malice or surprise in his tone, his good-natured expression betrays it. “Because I’ve known this friend since elementary school. We go way back.” 

You ignore the burn in the back of your head, as you are positive Mingyu knows you’re hiding something. 

“Really, what a coincidence.” Mingyu replies carefully, and you feel utterly stuck between these men and their banter, locked up like cream in an Oreo cookie. 

Nothing argues against Jungkook as he easily weaves through the thick wave of awkwardness, hands reaching out to touch your camera. “Wow,” he marvels, holding the object in his hands, “my dad has one of these.” 

“A-ha,” you take a step back, only to bump into the corner of the table, again. Ouch. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m actually busy today so I can come when Mingyu’s free–”

“Oh, I thought you were free all day,” Mingyu drawls, looking up through his lashes as he sips languidly at his drink. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says good-naturedly, as if Mingyu just didn’t out you. “We got a lot of catching up to do anyway, c’mon.” 

Jungkook moves to place a hand in the small of your back and that’s enough to get you to rev up. Refusing to let any contact get between the two of you, you zip ahead down the familiar hallway, turning your head to catch Mingyu grinning with all canines, shooing you with his fingers like a puppy. 

You send Mingyu a stream of “fuck yous” into his inbox for later, unwilling to settle with this curse. Busying yourself with your phone, you avoid eye contact with Jungkook until you reach the dark room. The red light turned off at the top of the doorhenge signals that the room is not in use. Jungkook makes a move to open the door and that’s when you pounce, blocking the doorway with your small body. It’s comical, really. 

Jungkook raises a brow at you, but says nothing. 

“I really can wait, Jungkook,” you steel yourself, forcing a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you developing my pictures—”

It’s then that his pretty cupid’s bow unfurls into a full-fledged grin. “Girlfriend... you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” 

“Fuck, well I had to!” your face is as red as the dark room’s alert light, now on because Jungkook flicked the switch and he’s between your arm to unlock the door. Your hand brushes his as you both reach the knob. “I’m really really sorry I sent those pictures. They were for Johnny—you remember Johnny Suh from English class? And I saved you in my contacts as “John Kook” so it was an honest mess up.” 

Jungkook hums, so light that the breathiness in his chords flutters your grip on the knob. He forces the door ajar, and you’re left to follow him in the dark room, cluttered with solutions and fancy equipment. 

“Thought so,” Jungkook shrugged, giving a one-over at the materials in the room, mulling over his next steps in developing your film. 

You’re still petrified at the doorway, holding your Pentax between both hands like a lifeline. Jungkook’s head lols to you, and you get a pretty view of the way his bangs brush over his forehead, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His expression is a little tired, but overall unreadable. He sighs your name, lethargic. 

“We’re already here, so might as well get this done,” he gestures to the camera in your vice grip. “Do you wanna pick the shots or do you want me to?” 

He’s already seen the digitals, what’s so different about getting a couple prints? With a slight pout you drag your feet over to him, relinquishing your camera. “I’m thinking you have a better eye for this than I do.” 

“You think right.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Cocky, but what you’ve seen on Instagram definitely justifies his sentiment. Jungkook pays no mind to you, busying his hands with the various containers in front of him, measuring the solutions for the developer, stopper, and fixer. You were always entranced by the process of developing film, especially in highschool where their photography club holed themselves in the darkroom like a secret lair. 

“Alright,” he pops open the canister, carefully laying out sections of the film in groups of four. “Want me to pick a random one for a tester?” 

You frown, “At least put some thought into it.” 

“Always,” it looks like he already decided way before he popped the question, immediately taking a negative and placing it in the carrier. 

His fingers are nimble as he takes the time to clean off the dust and any debris that could potentially ruin the image. Then he turns off the lights and begins the process. You dive around him, trying to keep your distance but still too curious to leave his side. If he’s annoyed he fails to show it, in favor of humming whatever song comes from his Echo Dot. 

You always got the solos in choir. You wanted to reminisce, but you’re too nervous to say it out loud. 

Even though it’s his job and he’s being a professional, you romanticize the experience, watching as he carefully puts the print in each liquid process. Your image blooms to life, and you feel your stomach churn as the photo develops before your eyes. 

After a final dip in the solution stopper, he places the first product in a bath of water. Even though you are mere centimeters away, you can clearly see the image of you swimming around the container. 

“Alright!” Jungkook hangs the finished picture on a pastel pink clothespin, tacking it in place. “Whaddya think?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, feeling heavy as you look at the image of you reflected in the glossy paper. You’re perched on your bed, a hand splaying between your legs as the other hand toys with the silk bunny ears. You’re leaned slightly, giving an ample view of your cleavage. However, the image of you is definitely different from being blown up in comparison to the negatives, and you squirm uncomfortably at your full display. 

“I look,” you bite your tongue, internally debating whether you like it or not. Not to spare Jungkook the theatrics you shrug, “It’s good.”  

The lack of enthusiasm seems to dissatisfy Jungkook however, as he has to take a double take and look back and forth between the image and the real thing. “What’s wrong with it, do you think Johnny’ll not like it?” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, breaking into a nervous laugh. “Johnny has a boyfriend. I just wanted his opinion. This photoshoot is for me, y’know? Just something to make me feel good about myself.” 

Jungkook’s lips morph into a little ‘o’, and you see a little bit of the child you once knew in the way he’s mulling over the situation. 

“Then can I give you my honest opinion?” Jungkook clips off the half-dried photo, holding it between you two. “Stop thinking so hard about every little thing you don’t like about yourself. If I was your boyfriend and you gifted this to me, I’d be creaming my pants. You look fucking sexy, all grown up since you cried in the fourth grade.” 

You’ve just been flung a litany of words you have no brain capacity to digest. Along with that, the immense heat you didn’t know you’ve been suppressing surges to your belly, low and simmering. Jungkook stares at you in earnest, despite his sudden gush of honesty, you don’t know what to say. There’s a dash of pink staining his cheeks, betraying the confidence he previously displayed. He stiffens when you don’t reply immediately and moves to clean his materials, his sudden bout of bold honesty quickly shrinking. 

“Y-you know,” you look down at your feet, “the only reason why I cried in the fourth grade was because you told me Santa wasn’t real.” 

Jungkook softens, tilting his head. “Sorry about that.” 

“Thanks though,” you gently reach for the photo in Jungkook’s grasp, looking at it without contempt. “But won’t your girlfriend be upset if she knew you were saying things like this about someone else?” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you looked through the rest of my Instagram story,” Jungkooks cards a hand through his already mussed hair, splitting the ends. “You would see that she’s not my girlfriend, but my tattoo artist.” 

For added measure, he wiggles his fingers in front of you, revealing pretty ink and silver bands across his knuckles.

“Oh,” your voice is feather light, and you’re sure you’re drooling as you stare far too long at the letters that mark his hands, curious as to what they symbolize. 

“So, as a singleton telling another singleton,” he continues, “I know it’s meaningless if you don’t believe it yourself, but I’m telling you, you’re attractive.” 

“Thanks,” you hold the picture tightly in your grasp, eyes flickering to the negatives in the room ready to be galvanized into a full-fledged picture. “Why don’t we wrap this up, huh? We can continue another time.” 

If he notices how much the paper wilts in your grasp, he doesn’t comment on it. “Are you sure? I know it takes a lot of time, but I don’t mind.” 

“I’m sure,” you force a smile, one hand on the lightswitch. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?” 

Jungkook swallows, nodding mechanically. “Okay.” 

“It was really nice seeing you, Kook.” you blurt before you could chicken out, letting the room bask in darkness a little longer so he can’t see your flustered state. “I’m not even going to downplay it, you look great.” 

You half-expect a cocky remark, or a little chest pumping from the compliment. At the sound of his nickname however, 4th grade Jeon Jungkook resurfaces and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, so do you,” he replies easily, sending you a soft smile and opening the door for you. 

The door closes shut behind you and you exhale, patting your cheeks and willing for the chilly air to calm you down. 

When you get home that day, you shuck off all your clothes and crawl into bed. You cry out when the metal framing of your bunny ears stabs you in the back, and you fling it to some unmentionable part of the room. You reach for a bag of half-opened sour gummy worms, flipping open your MacBook to continue streaming the soft magical girl anime you’ve been hooked on these past few weeks. 

Not even Sailor Uranus can distract you; however, by the time it’s dark and you’ve run out of distractions, you finally pull the plug and unblock Jungkook from your list of contacts. 

Your phone buzzes, the incessant vibration relaying all the messages you’ve missed. 

[March 12th, 3:53AM]

You: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/0343…

John Kook: ??? 

John Kook: you probably sent this to me by accident… sorry i clicked on it

John Kook: is it weird if i said you’ve done a massive glow up since the middle school dance?

[March 12th, 12:02 PM]

John Kook: are u mad

John Kook: you’re mad

John Kook: am i makin this weird by continuing to text you

John Kook: im making it weird. 

[March 31st, 6:24 PM]

John Kook: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/049…

You tilt your head at the folder link, it was sent only a few hours ago. With a click, you’re enlightened to a set of digital photos. Your photos from your photoshoot, but not quite. They’ve been expertly edited, not too much to distort your looks, but only to enhance your features. A small, barely there smile creeps from your subconscious, ultimately touched by the gesture. 

John Kook: sorry if i pushed too hard today. 

Guilt overrides your nerves, prompting you to immediately press the call button on his contact. Not to your surprise, Jungkook’s light voice calls your name through the line after the second ring. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you blurt, forgoing the hellos. “It was the right amount of push, I feel better, really. If anything, I’m sorry. I blocked your number because I was scared to read your reaction.” 

You hear him sigh along the line, and you feel that breath ripple through your nerves, as if he’s right next to you. “It’s fine, I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“The pictures you just sent, they’re really beautiful. You did a good job.” 

“Thanks, I had a bit of help. I didn’t have to do much.” 

“Oh, did Mingyu come back from his meeting?” 

"No, I uh," Jungkook chuckles, and while you don't really know why, the sound is nonetheless pleasant. “It was mostly the lighting and coloring I fixed up. Didn’t need to do much since you already looked so pretty as it is.” 

You choke on your saliva. 

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you cough, “just choked on a snack I was eating.” he hums in reply, and you pray he doesn’t hear your stomach fervently retort that you haven’t eaten since lunch. “So, I think I’m up for developing more of the film. When can I drop by?” 

“I’m free Saturday,” Jungkook chirps, “I have a shoot until noon but you can come anytime after that.” 

“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” you clutch the phone with both hands. “I can bring lunch. What do you like to eat?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m already buying for Minghao,” you lie, “do you like burgers?” 

“I can’t say no to a good burger,” Jungkook’s smile feels almost palpable against the line, “do you remember our field trip to the national museum of history? We had burgers on the street!” 

“Oh, those were so good,” you moan, fuzzy memories of a middle grade field trip resurfacing to clarity, “but you ate like, ten of them!”

“I still get nightmares,” he warns, “don’t let me go to bed like this.” 

You giggle, letting your body meld further into your warm mattress. “Maybe I’ll just show up with ten burgers for you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll throw up on you, try me.” 

Minghao’s adjusting the frames on their display wall by the centimeter, and it’s pissing him off. 

“Ah, it’s off,” he mutters to himself when you walk in, indicated by the electronic bell. He turns to you briefly, pulling a leveler out of his overall pocket. “Doesn’t this look off?” 

“Uh,” you look towards Mingyu at the front desk, who is paying no mind as he continues scribbling on his iPad. You tilt your head towards your former college classmate. “It doesn’t look off from over here?” 

Tacking the leveler on one of the frames, he whines, “It’s five degrees off.” 

Mingyu puts his pen down to reach over the counter and grab the paper from your hands, steaming with the scent of fast food, “He’s been like this for hours, don’t mind him.” 

He doesn’t even ask whether the food is his, Mingyu sees grease and he claims. Reaching for an oil-wrapped parchment, he unfolds the paper to reveal a handsome burger with all the fix-ens. 

Barely satisfied, Minghao steps away from the art display. There is a sizable gap in the display, now divided between four artists instead of three. You wonder how Jungkook’s work will look amongst the other artists. 

“Cute ‘fit.” Minghao mumbles, nodding approvingly at your clothes as he digs into the bag for his own burger. 

You send a half-smile his way. If an outfit is Minghao-approved, that means you’ve gone above and beyond. At least, you tried to play it off like you didn’t try to look cute. It’s not like you’re intimidated by Jungkook, living with a major fifteen-year glow up. After all, he’s already seen more than you can imagine. 

Mingyu takes notice, eyes going south to where your white blouse meets your cleavage. You hurl a fry at his face, “Eyes up here, perv.” 

He scrunches his nose, lifting a greasy thumb to slide a manila envelope over to you. “Here’s the developed pictures. Intercepted Kook and I finished them this morning.” 

You frown, “Jungkook’s not done with his photoshoot yet?” 

“Oh, he’s been done.” Mingyu’s eyes roll back to one of the studios. “But I’m saying is, you got what you needed. So you can leave if you want,” but he grins at you, canines so sharp you feel his stare jabbing you in the proverbial neck. “Unlesssss you want to go in and say hi.” 

If he has any inkling of what’s going on in your head, it’s definitely confirmed when your face turns hot. Damn body, you’re betraying me! With a flourish you grab the fries from under Mingyu’s nose, along with whatever’s left in the fast food bag. 

Minghao’s smiling through his burger, knowing if he pulls any type of savagery his lunch would certainly be pulled from under his chin. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it or the burger will be going in your ass instead of out.” You mean to sound menacing, but the Min-squared and their boisterous laughter follow you down the hallway and into the occupied studio. 

“Hey Jungkoo—wow.”

You’re sure you look like Alice, enthralled by the little wonderland she just stepped into. The set is beautiful, right out of a fairytale. It has a very old-romance vibe, like Morticia and Gomez Addams. There lay a couch made of the darkest, richest wood, with velvet red cushions covering the body. Across the floor laid hundreds of black rose petals, blanketing the floor in a sea of ebony. 

“It’s for a wedding, gothic themed.” Jungkook supplies helpfully, still fiddling with whatever he was looking on his digital camera. He’s looking utterly soft in a matching grey sweat combination, something that would easily disgust you during high school, but unfairly works with him. 

“The shoot must’ve been beautiful.” 

“It was.” 

“I uh, got this for you.” Your fingers start to sweat from clutching the bag so hard, and you place it on his work table. 

He finally looks up from his camera, giving you a wan smile. “I thought you got those for Minghao.” 

You mentally slap your cheeks, trying to ignore the way his smile made your stomach do somersaults. “He got his own. Your portion has a cookie in it, so.” 

His cute teeth unveil themselves at the mention of sweets, and you can’t help but smile back at the familiarity. 

The two of you take your time in enjoying your lunch, not meaning to stay but the very back of your mind hoping he’d like to share a meal with you. After all, Mingyu and Minghao are probably at the front relishing in your very obvious attraction. What can you say, first crushes never die. 

Between sips of your milkshake, you’ve taken to flipping through Jungkook’s portfolio. There’s a myriad of different subjects: beaches, people, the occasional squirrel. Each section of the portfolio feels like you’re being transported to a new side of Jungkook and his artistry, and you ached to know more. 

“Wow,” you point at an action shot of two girls in a dance studio, “this duo looks like Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

He swallows his (second) burger, having the audacity to sink sheepishly in his sweater. “It is Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

You nearly choke on your cookie. “That’s amazing.” you say breathlessly, looking closer at the image. In fact, the beautiful women photographed are famed hip-hop choreographers Chungha and Hyoyeon. You can’t imagine how good Jungkook must be to manage a photoshoot with them. 

As proud as you are of Jungkook, it reminds you that since middle school you two have lived completely different lives. You wonder if Jungkook gets these kinds of gigs all the time, hanging around with gorgeous, talented people like himself.

Jungkook says your name once, twice. He looks at you concerned, and you’re melting in his large carmine eyes. If he notices your usual overthinking, he doesn’t say anything, and gestures to the section at the end of his portfolio. “This isn’t my best work, but it’s one of my favorites.” 

There’s something familiar about this set. A playground with a busted swing set. Children riding on bikes and colorful class shirts. Ice cream melting on fists. 

Thirteen-year-old you hanging on top of your middle school’s leafless tree, clutching your baseball cap as you shade yourself from the sunset. 

“Was this the first time you took pictures?” you ask, thumbing the picture of yourself. 

“Yeah. It’s when I decided it’s what I wanted to do the rest of my life.” 

“I know we didn’t know each other that well and we’ve only recently connected but,” you give him a shy smile, “I’m really proud of what you’ve grown up to be, Jungkook.” 

He looks like you’ve hung him the moon and stars, his half-eaten burger loosening in his grasp. His lips are parted cutely, like a kitten who’s just been offered a fresh glass of milk. You cough at the sudden pause in conversation, feeling self-conscious of your impulse confession. You don’t even have it in you to be disgusted when Jungkook hastily shoves the second half of his burger down his throat, tips of his ears pink. 

Leaving him be, you press a palm to your cheek, looking at the wedding set. 

Jungkook downs half a water bottle before he speaks again. “Y’know, it would be a shame to clean up this set already. It was kind of expensive.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, standing up and kicking off your slippers. You kick your feet in the air, watching the black petals kiss across your ankles.

“I have an idea,” he wipes his hands on his sweats, “why don’t you go back home and get an outfit you really like. Lingerie, a cute outfit, whatever. Let me give you a photoshoot you’d love.” 

You look up from your petal dance, balking. “Jungkook! That’s not necessary, I told you the photos I took were okay.” 

“Yeah but, you didn’t seem entirely happy. C’mon, I got a camera and a beautiful set. Why waste it?” his hands naturally gravitate towards his charging camera, already turning it on. “I can do lighting, I know all your good angles. What’s stopping us?” 

Really, what’s stopping you? Your hands fiddle with your open flannel, the soft material comforting you as you look across the set. You try to imagine yourself, your body draped across the velvet pillows and black petals. Would it look good? Would you feel good? You think back to how you felt the first time, how scared you were when someone other than Johnny would be looking at your photos. You remember how something weird and sour contorted in your stomach when you scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s Instagram, no longer the little boy you knew but a man who could have everything he wanted—

“Stop thinking about it.” Jungkook suddenly snaps, and you break from your reverie to catch him looking upset. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him like that. 

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking that you’re out of my league.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You were like this the other day too,” and he looks sad, and puts his camera down to come closer to you. “Why are you feeling this way. Is it me?” 

“Not necessarily,” you huff, hugging yourself.

“Do you not feel beautiful? Do you not like your body?” 

“No, I do.” you say to yourself, and you mean it. Even though there will inevitably be days where you may not feel one-hundred percent positive about yourself, you know at the end of the day, you love you and all its parts. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I had no problem letting Mingyu develop the photos originally, because he knew me in college and I was already sure of myself back then. But I guess when I sent them to you, I felt like I did when I was a little girl, y’know? Going through puberty, and worrying about what other people think.” 

And it’s not like Jungkook teased you or made you feel lesser of yourself. In fact, Jungkook was the student you wanted to be when you were younger. Someone sweet and caring, and unabashedly confident about himself. 

“I guess seeing you so successful and the fact that my stupid childhood crush came back from a time where I always felt low, made me feel a little insecure again.” 

Something sinks in and you feel hyper aware of how crushed Jungkook looks at your declaration. “There’s no leagues, you got that?” he says quietly, walking so close that he’s hovering over you, sneakers brushing. “I get it. I get unsure and insecure just like you. Hell, I was nervous this morning, wondering if you’d really come. We may not feel insecure over the same things, but middle school wasn’t that great for me either.” He makes a funny face, and you feel a smile twitch across your lips. “But it’s okay. Because we’re human and we grow. But now, you are successful. You’ve grown from your time growing up and you’re a wonderful, powerful person. I’m proud of you too.” 

“I know,” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around you in response, holding you snug.

“And for the record, I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world in fourth grade. Even though my world was pretty small back then, I can say now that what I thought back then still stands true.” 

You look up from his embrace, where he’s leaning down to press a slow, cotton soft kiss to your forehead. He backs up a little to read your face, and you give a tiny nod in response to signal it’s okay. Jungkook exhales in contentment, relaxing against your frame. 

“Thanks, Kook,” you crack a smile, feeling your insecurities slowly evaporate. You feel better, light, knowing that these negative feelings are only temporary, and you’re not alone. Being in Jungkook’s arms, an honest boy turned man you’ve known all your life, it feels almost like home. 

You two stay like this for a while. Exchanging feather-like kisses, feeling irrevocably young and hopeful. Suddenly feeling emboldened, you tug him by the strings of his hoodie to press a long, hot kiss to his lips. There’s a stutter, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook choked on his saliva at the sudden change of pace but you continue, letting Jungkook catch up and follow your lead. 

“Wow,” Jungkook pulls away and his lips are shiny and flushed. Adorable. You think 7th grade Jungkook would be rolling in his Naruto sheets if he knew you two would inevitably end up together. Conversely, 7th grade you would be squealing in your kitten plushie, proud that you managed to nab your childhood crush to live out all the fantasies you’ve imagined since the 4th grade. 

“Jungkook,” you let your flannel fall to the floor in a heap, only leaving your baby blue top in a thin ruched camisole. “I think I want to do the photoshoot. Can’t pass up these pretty petals, y’know?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, gaping. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” you press a wet kiss to his neck, “anyway you want me, baby. Full creative control. I want you to like this as much as I do, okay?” 

With the permission to hold the wheel, Jungkook’s lightheaded and spinning. His eyes rake up and down your gorgeous form, wondering how many good deeds he’s done in his past life to earn a right just as this. 

“In that case,” he presses a palm to your shoulder, pushing you to sit along the velvet cushion, “strip for me.”