#i promise they won´t bite

[barksbog]

FRESH MAGNETIC MEATPEDES

Many people worry about this meat being tough due to the many teeth present but i assure you it´s some of the softest i sell. so soft in fact it is often compared to mochi in texture!

meatpedes are not fit for human consumption

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

buy the freshest meat in my butcher shop

barks-bog.com/shop

[lovinpelova]

good girl | j. fleming

summary; jessie finds out you have a praise kink. [SMUT]

🎵 cliffs edge - hayley kiyoko

"you played so well today my girl."

jessie mumbled against your temple as she kissed it sweetly, hand resting comfortably on your waist with her other redirecting your water bottle to her mouth cheekily. a bright red blush spread across your cheeks at the praise, yourself unable to move at the words she'd just spoken, knowing she didn't mean to rile you up but had unknowingly done it anyways. you and jessie had only been together seven months, so whilst sex had obviously already been explored (a lot) you were still too shy to tell her about your liking for praise.

"thanks jess, you too. my midfield maestro."

you wrapped your arm around her waist as she smiled down at you, staying like that when emma pulled you all in for a teamtalk. you'd just played liverpool and won 5-1 with yourself bagging an assist and goal, jessie only playing nine minutes due to emmas stubborn nature but still managing to make an unmissable impact in midfield.

the canadian took note of how you froze up for a couple seconds at her praise, thinking you were maybe just shocked at her sudden appearance and blushing in response like you always do when complimented. she brushed it off and thought nothing of it, the rest of your post-match routine going smoothly from in the changing rooms to when you'd just gotten out of the shower at home. luckily you didn't need to make any food afterwards as you'd already had a pre-ordered meal delivered to you after the match, meaning you and jessie could relax for the rest of the night.

that's when jessie decided to pounce.

her back rested against the pillows of your l-shaped couch whilst you were sat inbetween her legs, your back facing her front. she rested her head on your shoulder and gave you the odd kiss whenever she felt like it, arms tightening around your waist whilst yours gently held her hands in place on your stomach. the tv was playing one of your favourite shows in the background, neither of you watching it for the past five minutes as jessie began trailing kisses further down your neck, then back up to teasingly bite at your earlobe before repeating just to be a pain in the ass.

"have i ever told you how good you are for me baby?"

your grip on her wrists tightened whilst your breath hitched audibly, the canadian smirking into your neck as she continued kissing along your pulse point. she knew she'd hit the target - and she got a bullseye.

"jess..."

"yeah, y/n/n?"

you turned your head to look into her eyes for a moment, closing them afterwards and leaning your head back on her shoulder in a silent command for her to keep going. whether it was for her to keep talking like that or continue her actions she didn't know, so she took control of the situation and continued doing both.

"don't stop."

you whispered breathlessly against her ear, the midfielder grinning at the way your hands were guiding hers around your body. they dipped under your shirt to softly caress your breasts in all the ways you liked, jessie blushing at the soft moan you let out and continuing her actions. her lips returned to your neck and began nipping lightly to leave marks that wouldn't stay for long or be too painful, arms relaxing lightly to give you full control of where her touch travelled to, a grin crossing her face as they were dragged under your waistband.

"you think you've earned this?"

"mhm- haven't done anything bad i promise."

the midfielder chuckled at your neediness, now knowing for definite that you had a praise kink- and you had it bad.

her fingers moved further down into your underwear and began slowly rubbing your clit in firm circles, lips trailing down your shoulder as your head lulled back completely against hers. your hand came up to grab at the bottom of her neck for a sense of relief, tugging on her baby hairs to show her she was doing well so far. jessie continued her movements for a couple more moments to rile you up fully before slowly moving her fingers to dip inside your wetness, grinning devilishly at the whimper you let out with your fingers gripping her neck tighter.

"don't tease me baby."

"hmm, good girls don't tell people what to do. they ask nicely, don't they princess?"

the midfielder continued circling your entrance with her fingertips, occasionally moving back up towards your puffy clit and brushing over it before repeating her actions. jessie wasn't giving you any friction - her legs keeping yours open and arm keeping your hips down - she wanted to keep you like that until you broke. she wanted you begging.

"i am a good girl-"

"no, you're not."

she replied sternly, raising her eyebrows at the way you whined in frustration and restlessly moved about to find her touch, groaning when her fingers stopped their movements completely. jessie grabbed your face with her other hand and turned it towards hers, eyes meeting yours with a disapproving look.

"you wanna try that again y/n?"

the tone of voice she used had you dripping, especially with the way she was gripping your face so harshly as she asserted her dominance. she'd never been this rough - this mean - before, but you weren't complaining at all.

"please jess."

"i need more than that and you know it."

the canadian heard you try mask another whimper, her eyebrows raising in suspicion as she tilted her head for you to go on.

"stop being lazy and ask nicely. earn it."

"please jessie- don't tease me anymore. i want it so bad baby please give it to me. i'll be good."

seemingly approving of your words she let go of your face before pulling you into a heated kiss, pulling back to bite your bottom lip as she sunk her fingers inside of you. jessie relished in the choked moan you let out and eventually let go of your lip, beginning to move her fingers with a slight curl to brush against your g-spot slowly.

"that's it baby. bein' a good girl now, aren't you?"

wordlessly nodding your head in response, your hand went down to grip at hers that was resting on your waist, throwing your head back again with a guttural moan at a particularly deep stroke jessie supplied you with. you bucked your hips into jessies palm to meet her thrusts, pleased she let you move however you wanted to now that you'd asked so nicely for it. her lips scattered across your neck to lick along your jawline and pulse point, fingers speeding up every second as her thrusts had her bicep bulging out with the force she was using to please you.

"who's my good girl, hm?"

a deep moan escaped your throat as it was followed by a string of high pitched ones, jessies name beginning to sound like a mantra to you.

"c'mon baby. don't good girls speak when they're spoken to?"

you nodded your head as jessie did alongside you, mockingly of course, loving to humiliate you every now and then just to see the way you'd blush. her fingers were knuckle-deep by now, completely curled and hitting your g-spot directly with every thrust as your legs began spasming and walls started to clamp down on her digits, tightening with every thrust.

"fuck, so tight."

the canadian mumbled to herself, knowing you only started to get like that when you were nearing the edge. jessie made you feel far too comfortable for you to ever be this tight unless you were near an orgasm.

"i'll ask you again, yeah? who's my good girl?"

her teeth grazed your earlobe teasingly as her thumb came up at an awkward angle to rub your needy clit, a smirk falling on her face at the way your grip tightened on her neck whilst you moaned out her name when your orgasm came crashing down on you.

"me jess! fuck, that's me baby! so good- fuck."

your dominant hand went down to hers that was inside your shorts, pushing it impossibly deeper into you whilst your hips bucked upwards, then pulling her fingers away before pushing them back inside as far as they could go with your hips meeting them in slow but deep thrusts. the canadian watched in awe as your other hand travelled beneath your shorts to roughly and frantically rub at your clit with your teeth biting your lower lip, her lips whispering praise against your skin as she let you guide her movements to your own liking.

you eventually slowed down your movements and let go of her hand, jessie taking that as a sign to pull out as you recovered from your mind-blowing orgasm. she brought her fingers up to her mouth and sucked your arousal off them, moaning in pleasure at the taste before turning her attention back to you.

"you okay baby?"

it took a couple moments for you to respond but you eventually did, still catching your breath with your legs twitching every couple seconds, the way they tingled making you let out a dopey grin and string of blissed out moans as your body relaxed further into jessie.

"that was the best orgasm i've ever had."

the pair of you laughed together as you pulled jessie in for a soft kiss, stroking your thumb over her cheek with her arms wrapping further around your waist.

"we should do that more often."

"i won't let you have sex with me unless you speak to me like that from now on."

you replied instantly, your girlfriend scoffing at your demand as she kissed further along your shoulder, letting you calm down some more before focusing on the tv again whilst you relaxed in her arms until you fell asleep out of pure exhaustion from the truly unimaginable orgasm your girlfriend just gave you.

[lilmisssweetdreams]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ fingers dimming the lights

mdni, 18+ only

the home office is bathed in warm, ambient light—it always is at this time of the night, familiar and soothing, exactly like the figure sat at the desk, hunched over her laptop. alex knows her work schedule is erratic, she works with people all over the world like he does, different time zones and different countries, and not that she’s a slave to her laptop but she does work a tad too much if you ask him. 

still, he lets her be and stays in the corner of the room, flicking through his book. he lets her be that is, until he sees her rubbing her eyes tiredly and stifle another yawn. she reaches for the mug next to her, brings it to her lips, and frowns. it’s empty. 

then she stretches like a cat—back arched, arms elongated—before curling into herself. that, evidently, does it for him. 

silently, he sets the book aside and walks up behind her. she barely even notices until his hands are on her shoulders, feeling the knots in her muscles, trying to massage the tension away. 

“you’re tired,” alex tuts and feels her shrug. “come to bed. it’s almost ten.”

she snorts lightly. “you know i can’t for another two hours at least, besides, i’ll be free tomorrow. then i’m all yours.”

“you’re already all mine,” he teases and kneads the knots again. (he does make a mental note though, to get her a proper warm bath tomorrow; bubbles and salts and candles and all.)

“come on, love,” alex tries again but she only hums a bit. and then she turns to him with a full pout. 

“i wish, babe. but i’ve got to have a very grown-up, professional zoom call while trying to hide the fact that i’m wearing pyjama bottoms. two more hours, i promise.”

and just like that she’s back to facing her laptop, back to clacking away on the keyboard, making that soothing sound of her nails against it that he loves so much. right now, alex bends down and kisses her neck gently. 

“when does your call start?”

“umm, eleven…”

the suspicion in her voice makes him grin and then he places a few more kisses down her neck and on her shoulders. 

“could relax you a little till then,” he murmurs, “put you in a better mood.”

she tilts her head up to him and laughs. “what’s got you in a mood, sweet boy?”

the moniker makes him smile wider. his fingers continue tracing soothing patterns, and his lips leave gentle kisses on the nape of her neck. 

“just need you to take a short break, ’s all. your laptop won't run away, baby, the the call is still an hour away.”

the next time alex looks at her, there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes. that, and the way she subtly bites her lower lip… and alex knows he’s won her over 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the first thing he does is lay her down on the bed, then he dims the lights until their bedroom is just as cosy as her workspace—all warm and golden. 

the anticipation of it has definitely gotten to her. alex can almost see her trembling on the bed, back slightly arched, her nipples peaking out from her thin t-shirt, hair an effortless mess. the sight of her sends his neurons into overdrive and he feels the familiar tingling as all his blood rushes south.

“let me take care of you, darling,” he whispers, “just relax for me…”

his words effect her immediately, make her toes curl and her mouth part almost as if she’s anticipating the gasp that he will draw out of her. 

“there’s my sweet girl,” he trails a hand over her leg—starting from her ankle and up her calf and then up her thigh until his fingers are at her hip. the knot of her pyjama shorts is next. 

all he has to do is give it a light tug before he’s sliding it off her legs. she helps by lifting up her hips, then eagerly shimmies out of her underwear. 

“look at you now,” alex teases. then he leans down, his lips dangerously close to her stomach. "come on, baby," he purrs, “spread your legs for me.”

something like a whimper and a moan echoes around the room and alex drags a finger through her slit, lazily collecting the wetness, coaxing her and spreading her open while his mouth presses kisses all over. her lower stomach first, then her thighs. meanwhile, his thumb finds her clit and a jolt goes through her body. 

“fuck fuck fuck alex…” she moans out loud and a thrill goes down his spine. 

fuck, here he is—tasting her and touching her and making her feel this way. his girl, she is his girl. and oh he’s never been one to be primal and possessive but all he can think about at the moment is that she is his. 

she is his and he is hers. 

and he loves her. 

he loves her so fucking much.

she gasps when he sucks on her clit, letting his teeth graze it gently every once in a while. her thighs tremble under his hands, her muscles shifts and alex doesn’t stop her at all when she squeezes her thighs together—the pressure on his head is delicious and spine-tingling anyway. it’s heady and intoxicating, just like her scent, her taste. 

“oh god, al,” she moans loudly. “fuck, just like that…” her fingers tangle in his hair, tugging and pulling while she squirms under his touch, grinds herself against his face and alex takes it all.

his tongue laps at her folds, his nose pushing against her clit and her screams are like music to his ears. better than anything he’s ever heard. better than anything he’s ever created.

his cock throbs desperately, twitching and hard, dying to feel her clenching around his now, to feel her squeezing him until his vision goes white and he fills her up. he can practically see the image in front of his eyes—his cum dripping out of her, making a mess on her thighs. mess that he could clean up with his tongue or with his fingers and push all of it back inside her. fill her up completely. 

she clenches around nothing then and for a moment alex almost cums in his pants. but he can tell she’s close now. her hips rock against his face and her thighs squeeze his head harder. nails dig into his scalp making him hiss but she’s so close, he can almost taste her release on his tongue. 

“so perfect for me,” he urges and lets his teeth drag over her clit again. “let me taste you, darling, yeah? i know you’re close.”

“so, so close…” she trails off and alex can’t resist the urge to place a kiss on her thigh. a soft request maybe or even a way to coax her. 

“let go for me then,” he breathes and pushes his thumb against her clit. his tongue thrusts inside her again and she mewls out his name again. louder than before.

“don’t stop, al, don’t—” and he feels it then, feels her drenching his lips and his chin. feels the spasm of her thighs and feels her ragged breaths reverberating through her body. 

just like she requested, he doesn’t stop. he laps up every last drop she has to over, fucks her with his tongue till she’s completely done riding out her orgasm. only once he feels her body go slack does he straighten. 

and alex is met with the loveliest sight he can imagine.

her hair is sprawled all over the pillow, messy and gorgeous. her face is flushed, lip bitten till it’s raw and red. alex sees a sliver of her underboob from where her t-shirt rode up but it’s when he looks at her thighs does he see all the red marks he’s left behind… 

all the kisses and hickeys and slight stubble burn. light bruises on her thighs from holding onto her so tight. 

she’s marked and some primal part of him can’t get enough of the sight. 

quickly alex moves to her and captures her mouth in his. her tongue slides in his mouth instantly, and alex knows she can taste herself on his tongue. quietly, she moans in his mouth and he feels like he’s going to burst right then.

but there’s the matter of the fucking call…

he has no idea how much time has passed but he knows she needs to leave soon while he tosses and turns restlessly in their bed, surrounded by the scent of her, still tasting her—

“where are you going?” her voice comes out as a breathless rasp and alex realises he’s pulling away. 

“well… well, i though you had the call, love…” 

she clicks her tongue and her smile turns into her grin. 

“oh you’re not leaving this bed,” she declares. “i’m texting them that i don’t feel well.”

slowly, a smile spreads over his face and alex shudders under her touch. 

“whatever happened to being adult and professional,” he teases breathlessly but she’s already pulling up his t-shirt, already lifting it over his head. 

“oh no,” she tuts, “none of that. not when i have much better things to do…”

[skzdarlings]

part viii: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (chapter word count; 13,800 words)

chapter warnings: the usual dynamics and abuse history. reader is harassed at a bar by a handsy man. some fighting. unprotected sex. BDSM dynamics (dom!felix/sub!reader, sadism, masochism, rope bondage, spanking, belting, fear kink).

-

You sleep through most of the afternoon, waking in that bleary, purple hour where evening is unexpectedly creeping into the day.   Felix is not in the room, though the evidence of your lovemaking remains in the mess of your shared bed.  There is also a tender ache between your thighs but it does not register as pain, or at least not as bad.   It is proof of pleasure. 

You touch yourself there, still sleepy but still wanting. 

You listen for Felix.  He is talking in the other room, on the phone with your father.  You slip out of bed and dig around for a shirt, because you don’t want to distract Felix too bad while he is reporting. 

A conversation with your father will no doubt cool him down, more effective than a douse of ice water, but you will not abandon him to that cold.  Never again. 

You wait in the corridor, listening as he mentions your missed class but lying about you having a stomach flu.  He claims he made you rest because you have an important exam in a few days.   He also claims you argued with him, which is convincingly in character for you, but naturally he won this supposed argument so your father has ‘nothing to worry about’. 

You grin, biting your bottom lip, as tender from loving as the rest of you.   

Felix ends the call.  After a moment, he sighs and says, “I know you’re there.” 

You turn the corner.  Felix is sitting in the middle of the couch, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt.  His hair is partially pulled back, a lazy half-bun with the rest in a messy sweep around his neck.  The collar of the shirt does not hide the love bite on his throat, twin to your own. 

Despite his frown, he is sitting with his legs apart, and light sweatpants do very little for hiding anything inside them.   He clears his throat but doesn’t close his legs, just cocks an eyebrow when you meet his gaze.    

You blink oh-so innocently.

“You made me sound like such a good girl,” you say.  “Even I almost believed it.” 

You can see the amusement tugging at his lips.  He pushes his tongue into his cheek. 

“Mmm…” His low voice comes softly.  “But you are a good girl.  When you want to be.”

“When I’m made to be, you mean,” you say. 

You hold his gaze as you approach.  He plays the professional, watching you with a detachment that contradicts the thickening bulge in his sweats.   Your desire is even more obvious, in your eyes and face and the sway of your body. 

You put your hands on his knees and bend over, the collar of your shirt swooping low.  Still, he looks into your eyes and no where else.   A conversation happens there, beneath the surface of your words.  You have often read each other like a book. 

Come with me, you say, and though he does not move, though his body and eyes are rooted, he lets a little fondness run through the fissures of his usual mask.  He finally looks at your lips. 

“Do you tell them?” you ask.  You get down on your knees, face at level with his open thighs.  “When they ask how you get me to behave, how you seem to do it so easily when so many tried and failed…”      

He says your name, darkly coloured with promise.  You both know where this is leading. 

It is not just about the kneeling or the pouting, but that this is you, who has never willingly knelt for even the most dangerous of men.  And when you rest your head on his knee, you are thinking about that, about how it is only for him, exactly as he is.   How he knows every possible way his body could be used to hurt someone.  How he runs a gentle hand across your hair. 

“Sweetheart,” he says.

“Do you tell them how you win our arguments?”  you ask, flicking your gaze from between his legs to his face.  “Or do you leave out the part where you shut me up with your dick in my mouth?” 

His hand drifts down your face and he holds your chin, lifts your head.  He furrows his brow as if he, too, is completely innocent. 

“Shut you up?” he asks.  He presses two fingers at your lips in a patient request.  You open your mouth and take him to the knuckle.  “That doesn’t sound right.”  He lets you tease him, lets you swirl your tongue around his fingers.  He looks at those fingers as he slides them out between your lips and back in again.  “You weren’t quiet this afternoon,” he says.  “Mmm, the opposite even, I think, don’t you?” 

You give him your best glare, to which he laughs, a little huff of amusement. 

“You can hate me,” he says, “if it makes you feel better.” 

He stands and takes his fingers with him, so you chase him with pursed lips.  Your breath catches when he grabs the back of your neck, stopping your pursuit, holding you firmly, safely. 

He smiles down at you with that too-sweet, too-innocent smile.  His other hand unties the band of his sweats. 

You swallow.  Your heart is thumping, an excited and pleasurable thrum you feel right down to the core of you.   You blink up at him as the waistband comes loose so he can roll the material down, his dick hard and springing up, his hand as firm on the back of your neck. 

You smile. 

“Make me,” you say. 

He smiles back. 

“Don’t have to,” he says.  “You’ll do what I say.  Now come on.  Be a good girl and open your mouth.”

He is right, that it takes nothing more than that.  You want him too badly to even pretend to refuse, your lips parting in an open kiss that welcomes him to enjoy you as much as you are enjoying yourself. 

Though he plays along, Felix is naturally restrained.  Even when assuming the semblance of total control, he holds himself in a type of bondage, his body tense and breath ragged. 

You make a showy mess of your wet mouth and stick out your tongue. 

“Is that it?” you ask.  “I don’t think you would any arguments like that—”

He laughs and shakes his head.  He hesitates only a moment before taking your face in his hands and fucking himself back into your open mouth.  

It gets you hot and wet, how he hands himself over to you, how he trusts you with the pleasure he is always so reluctant to accept.   You give it to him and more, until your jaw is sore and your face is wet with tears. 

He touches you there, looking down at you with the sort of reverence that usually comes from the person kneeling.  He cups your face and tilts it up, looking at you affectionately even while stroking his dick right beside your cheek. 

You glance there out of the corner of your eye, then bat your eyelashes up at him. 

“I hate you,” you say, and it makes him come in a streak on your wet cheek. 

It is stupidly hot, but Felix being Felix apologizes anyway. 

When he reaches for you, you lean away.  His gaze is wary, watching as you swipe a finger over your cheek then lick that finger clean.  There is very little evidence left on your face, but you gather what remains and put your fingers back in your mouth, giggling as he huffs but surrenders to a smile.   He reaches again but you dodge his hand. 

You wonder if he is also remembering your first night together: how he chased you to stop you from petulantly shoving things in your mouth, how you were the hot-tempered girl you are pretending to be now, how he was the dutiful soldier already in over his head because of that girl. 

You think he does remember, because you understand each other with one glance. 

You run and he chases you.   He vaults the couch and sweeps you into his arms before you can get too far. 

When Felix truly applies himself, you stand no chance of escaping, so every little squirm and wiggle is something he grants you.   

Right now, he concedes no ground.  He locks you in his arms, your back to his front, and marches you right up to the window.  

It is a mirror on the outside and, even if it was not, you are too high up for anyone to see anything but a spec in the glass.  Still, there is a thrilling moment when you feel like you are standing on top of the whole city, where everyone can see you, where they can see him, his hand slipping under your shirt as you plant your palms on the glass. 

“That’s it,” he says, nudging your feet apart with a little kick. 

Your breath is already fogging the glass by the time he touches you.  He makes an even more guttural sound than you, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he rubs his fingers through all that wet desire. 

His hair is more dishevelled now, wisps falling from the knot.  You unravel just as quickly, quicker even, riding the rhythm he sets with his hand. 

His arm is around your neck, cradling you close, and his other hand is inside you.  You press against him and come to the soft sound he makes, to his breath hitting your neck, to everything intimate between you. 

His touch gentles but not stop.  You realize he does not intend to stop, that he is slowly working you towards another orgasm.  You whimper and wriggle in his grip, but you also push desperately onto his hand. 

He shushes you soothingly, his arm holding you steady when your knees start to tremble.  He eases you both down, on your knees, never ceasing his touching. 

You come even harder the second time, throwing your head back onto his shoulder. 

He kisses your face then slows down and finally stops his touching.  He cups his hand over your pussy with a sort of possessiveness.  Then he sighs with satisfaction, his breath waking goosebumps along your skin. 

“That’s my girl,” he says, a soft murmur. 

It is only for you, a secret whisper spoken right into your ear.  You look down at the city beneath you, sprawling as far as the eye can see, all the way to the where to the last rays of sunlight peek over the horizon.  An entire world. 

You touch a hand to the glass.  He kisses your neck and your eyes close.  You imagine falling into that big open world, secure in his protective hold. 

You let yourself relax in his arms.  You release a breath you did not realize you had been holding.

-

The next few semesters pass in a blur of similar dreams and desires.  It is just you and Felix in the middle of everything, in and out of a dangerous world, escaping to a haven of your own design.  

You do not know where the times goes, but weeks turn to months.  Semesters come and go. Another graduation looms on the not-so-distant horizon.  Somehow, you feel as ill-equipped for the world as you did when you were a teenager.   

So much has changed and so much has stayed the same.  When it is just you and Felix in that apartment, you feel free to safely exist.  You lives are mired in trouble and trauma but you grow comfortably into your weird, grown-up selves.  You might even say you are happy to be who you are, appreciating the good days because of the bad ones.  

But beyond graduation is the looming threat of a permanent return to your father’s house and the life he has planned for you. 

You are spending the weekend there, in your old bedroom, because of a few events your father wants you to attend.  After just one day in his house, you revert to all your anxious teenage habits.  It worries Felix when you withdraw like that, when you get snippy and cold, though he knows you well enough to understand.  

You look at him now, on the opposite side of this huge bed, far away because you are not alone in this house.  The space feels bigger than you remember.  Terror forms its usual death grip on your heart.  You wonder how you were ever so reckless with your safety, with his safety.  Felix is the bodyguard but you would do anything to keep him safe. 

You slide a little closer, then a little more.  The cadence of his breathing changes as he wakes, always a light sleeper, though he does not open his eyes.  

You brush some hair off his face.  He leans into your touch and you smile despite everything.  You stroke his cheek and feel your sorrows melt with his soft exhale.   

“Rest,” he says in a deep voice rough with sleep.

You continue to stroke your thumb over his cheek, just looking at his face.  His roots are getting dark again and his freckles are more pronounced in the blue dark of this bedroom.   You admire his profile, the slope of his nose, his lips, and you find yourself overcome with affection and desire. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, catching your hand when it slides down his neck.  “Not now.” 

His admonition makes sense.  You have only been here a day.  You will be back in the apartment in a few more.   An apartment with privacy and protection, where you can touch each other without any consequences.  There is no reason to put yourselves in jeopardy here, tonight. 

Maybe you do remember how and why you were so reckless as a child, stealing back whatever parts of your life you could, whenever you could, however you could.  You should be allowed to touch who you want when you want.  You should be allowed to live in your own body. 

You want to feel alive, and you feel most alive when you act in defiance of all the rules that would restrain you, when you face down danger in your path and steal back your heart from that death grip. 

“Felix,” you say.  Then, in a softer hush, you whisper, “Baby.” 

It catches his breath as it always does, such a simple endearment, so common, like he is just a boy and you’re just his girl.  You are certain if you slide your hand lower, you will find him already getting hard just from hearing it. 

“Please,” you whisper. 

“This is crazy,” he whispers, eyes still closed, tightly now, like he can make the rest of the world disappear by not looking at it. 

“I’ve always been crazy,” you say.  “You like me anyway.” 

He finally opens his eyes.  He looks at you and your heart skips beats, and you wonder if that gaze will ever cease to make your heart race this way.  Years and years and years of sharing this bed, and you still feel warm and dreamy when he strokes the pad of his thumb across your knuckles. 

“Hmm, doesn’t matter how I feel, yeah?” he says.  “You hate me no matter what.” 

His tone is light and teasing.  It is your usual innuendo.  The game you always play. 

You do not want to play any games tonight.  Tears prickle in your eyes as you look at him, as those words cross his lips.  You want so badly to say what you really mean, but your emotion gets the best of you and the words never cross your lips. 

His brow furrows when he realizes you are struggling with something.  He touches your face, turning it towards him to look at you more closely.  A tear slips down your cheek and he wipes it away. 

“Felix,” you say.  You shake your head.  You clasp his hand to your cheek.  “Make love to me.” 

You cannot help but laugh at the look on his face.  Very little surprises him, a consummate professional in all appearances, and he is good at absorbing his own shock and moving on.  But he looks physically stunned, eyes wide and mouth open, words caught in a cluster on his tongue. 

When you laugh, it snaps him out of his daze.  His face softens, expression fond if not a little morose. 

“This is, uhh…” He clears his throat, shakes his head.  “Stupid.” 

“I don’t care,” you say.

It is the truth.  You are suddenly completely apathetic to everything beyond the bedroom door.  You don’t care if they catch you.  You don’t care if they hurt you.  You don’t even care if they kill you.  That dark thought has you reaching desperately for the only source of light and life in the room. 

You wrap your arms around Felix.  You hold his shoulders and kiss his face, lining your body up against his.  When you kiss below his jaw, he makes a soft sound of surrender.   His hand slides up the back of your shirt, rests between your shoulder blades and holds you, firmly, as he looks at you then kisses you. 

Your eyes close and you kiss him back.  They stay closed, even when the kiss deepens, when he licks into your mouth, when he catches your sigh with a bruising press of his lips.  You let yourself fall into the sublime haze of desire, not looking but feeling. 

He puts you on your back and holds himself above you.  You are already breathing hard.  You tug on his shirt so he leans back and whips it off.  Then you are touching his bare shoulder, his back, dragging your nails down his backside and feeling him shiver against you. 

His open mouth is hot against your throat, wet on your chest through your shirt, then under it.   You tug it off and over your head, leaving it spilled on the pillow beside you, then your arms are around him and your legs are spreading to fit his hips.  You are both fumbling with the last of your clothes when he gasps against your throat and mumbles something like, “We don’t have—we can’t—”   

Some distant, logical part of your brain knows he means protection.  After the first coming together, you’ve been careful in all your intimate moments.  But sense and logic are far from your mind right now. 

Once you are both completely naked and free, you wrap around him and pull him to you.  He comes to you with another surrendering sigh. 

Your eyes have been closed for so long, and the physical sensations have been so strong, that you very literally see stars when he is finally inside you.   

He instinctively covers your mouth when you make too loud a sound.  You grab that hand and lace your fingers, then rest it beside your head.  He covers your mouth with his, gathering your other hand so both are pushed into the mattress on either side of your head.   He is so close, his whole body pressed to yours, that you think he must be deeper inside you than ever before. 

His hips roll against yours with a slow sensuality, one sometimes lacking in your more desperate couplings.  It all feels so good that you genuinely believe you could die happy if you died right now. 

He makes another soft noise that sounds like a question.  You answer with a gentle moan of your own, a squeeze of your fingers between his, and a clenching between your thighs that has his whole hard body going soft and tender in seconds.  He comes inside you and maybe that should wake you up and cause alarm, but it doesn’t.  The room just gets quieter, your heart thumping against his all the while.  He holds himself above you for a few breathless seconds then lets go. 

You hold him against you, hands separating so you can slide them along his arms and up into his hair.  His face rests in the crook of your neck and shoulder. 

Maybe you should feel more concern for your circumstance.  But you are not really worried. 

Tomorrow, you will attend another party, you will smile, you will dance with someone your father pushes your way.  

A few days later, you will convince your father to let you take birth control, claiming it is to manage your irregular and too-heavy period flows.  He will be as immature as ever and quickly agree, anything to end a conversation he finds too awkward to navigate. 

You and Felix will go back to your apartment.  You will study for tests and drink coffee and write essays.   You will count the days to graduation.

Right now, you laugh.  It is soft and carefree.  It catches when he slides out of you, but it returns when he looks at you with a quirked eyebrow.  But his regard is a tender one.  You stroke his face and he kisses your palm, then he swoops down and kisses your nose and cheeks and just under your chin. 

I’m alive, you think.  In your father’s house, disobeying all his rules.   He has tried so hard to kill you, to break you down into pieces that he can rebuild, the way he does with any malfunctioning piece of industry tech.  And he has failed.  Despite his best efforts, despite his money and power and influence over what seems like the whole world, you are alive. 

You concede that maybe with your problems and imperfections, there is not much more to boast, but being alive is all that matters. 

Felix kisses you.  You think about the childish fairy tales that your father and grandfather ensured never took root in your mind.    If you were like them, you would not believe in magic kisses or true love or saving grace.

You kiss Felix back. 

-

“Can you ride a motorcycle?” you ask.

Felix, who is concentrating so you do not fall off your bicycle, briefly flicks his gaze up to you.  You lose your balance and swerve, but he is quick to catch the handlebar and steer you straight.  His hands hover around you as he walks alongside where you peddle. 

“I can do anything,” he says but absently, too focussed on watching you. 

You snort and your amusement almost derails you again.  You correct your wobble with a little jerk of the handles. 

“Cocky,” you say.  “I’ll have to see it to believe it.” 

Felix laughs.  He holds the handle and guides you around a corner in the path.   

“Maybe I should learn to ride a motorcycle,” you say with absolutely no sincerity.  “I’m sure my father would loooove that, don’t you think?” 

Felix levels you with a predictably dry regard.  You giggle maniacally which causes you to swerve again.    

He steers you forward with a quick yank.  He cannot help but smile at your cheesy grin.

“How about you learn to ride a regular bike first, hmm?” he says. 

“It’s not my fault,” you say, wobbling again.  “It’s the wind.”

“Mhm.” 

“It is!”

It is a rather blustery day, all grey skies and swift winds.  Felix almost lost his favourite beanie, so now it is yanked tight and low over his head so you can hardly see a wisp of hair.  You are similarly bundled in a hoodie, the strings drawn comically tight around your face so it would stop blowing off.  Felix keeps snickering when he looks at you, but it just makes you giggle back at him. 

The university has bicycles for rent to cross campus.  Though you usually walk, today you thought it would be fun to try, even if you did immediately disprove the old adage about memory and bike riding.  

You have not ridden a bike since childhood.   You were not allowed to use it outside because your father was concerned the wheels would carry you away too quickly, that something could happen before your nanny and guards caught up.  You were only allowed to ride your bike in the gym, which got very boring very fast, so you never bothered with it.  The only other time you sat on a bike was the few times you sat on the handlebars when Jisung rode his bike around. 

The memory comes so suddenly, a snapshot of a moment you did realize you remembered so vividly.  His goofy laughter sings through your memory, your own delighted shrieks as he sped down a slope and scared himself more than you. 

It makes you a little sullen.  After years, it seems ridiculous that you should still be so hung-up on an adolescent friendship, especially with so much more to occupy your mind.  But then, you suppose it was not just any friendship.   The Han Jisungs of the world are few and far between.  You were lucky to know him while you did.  Without him, you doubt you would have ever gotten on a bike again. 

Without him, you doubt you would have ever done much of anything but curl into an empty husk of a person. 

Instead, you are soft and smiling when Felix touches your back.  He notices the change in your disposition and looks at you with concern, and it does not trigger frustration nor do you flinch from his touch.  You just smile and steady your handlebars. 

“Just silly stuff,” you say with a shake of your head.  “Sometimes I sat on Jisung’s bike while he drove us around.  Just… thinking about him, I guess.” 

“Mm.”  Felix nods, understanding.  He holds the handle to help keep you steady but he looks ahead, sighing into the wind.  “It’s not silly.   Your friendship was important,” Felix says.  “Though, uhh, I definitely wouldn’t trust Jisung behind the wheels of a motorcycle.”

You laugh at the image of Jisung on a motorbike when that poor boy would sweat just from speeding down a hill.

“No,” you say.  “Definitely not for him.” 

Of course, maybe that is not true anymore.  You are picturing a teenage boy, but Jisung will be as grown as you now.  Who knows what he looks like or what he enjoys, what he fears or wants anymore. 

Romantic intimacy holds its own special felicity, but it is still different from the gentle affection of friendship.  Your heart pangs with the ache of missing him, of years passed apart, of your first ever friend now potentially being as unrecognizable to you as any stranger.  

“I just hope he’s happy,” you say, feeling it so strongly you cannot keep it yourself.  But then, that was always the way with Jisung, to have liked him so much that you cannot help but let it spill out of you, consciously or not.  You’re kinder for having known him.  You know how to joke and be goofy and make Felix smile. 

“Me too,” Felix says.  “He was… well, sort of my friend too.  In a way.” 

“He was,” you say.  “I guess he was the first friend for us both—whoa!”

You make a playful swipe at his shoulder and it makes you lose your balance again.  Felix fortunately catches you with those lightning-fast reflexes, holding you up while your bike hits the pavement.  There is some stumbling while you try to stand, tangled up with the bike, and nearly yank him down with you. 

Eventually you step out.  Felix brushes off your shoulders and pats down your arms, as if inspecting for injuries. 

“I’m fine,” you say, at the same time Felix says, “He wasn’t.”

“Huh?”  You blink at him.  “Who wasn’t what?”

“Jisung,” Felix says, a little exasperated.  “He wasn’t my first fr—”  He cuts himself off when he meets your eye, frowning instead.  He tugs on the string of your hoodie so your already tight lacing gets a little snugger.  “I’m not talking about this while you look like that,” he intones dryly. 

Before you can even open your mouth to protest or ask more, he picks up the bike and swings onto the seat for himself. 

“Come on,” he says, patting the handlebars.  “I’m hungry.  Let’s go.” 

You are not exactly a spritely adolescent anymore, but you manage to get yourself perched up on the handlebars.  Felix is a better driver than Jisung, faster too, and you find yourself laughing into the wind from the thrill of it.  When you reach the campus café, Felix is smiling too, and your previous conversation is forgotten for the time being. 

You park the bike in one of the rental receptacles then enter the café.  The warmth inside is a balm after the chill.  You take off your hood and breathe in deeply, satisfied.  Felix rubs your back as he walks you up to the counter to order. 

You are waiting for your order when you hear your name.  You lift your head, smiling when you see the friendly, dimpled grin of a class-mate, Yang Jeongin.   He is a year younger than you but academically advanced so you have shared a few classes over the years.  He is a very sweet boy, but you have kept your distance given what happened to the last very sweet boy you befriended. 

“Jeongin, hi!” you say. 

“Hi, what’s up?” he says. “Have you started any of your final projects?  I’m already drowning.”

His big smile and wheezy laugh is disarming in its boyish charm, though you know Felix has his guard up as always.  You are still not expecting to feel a proprietary touch settle low on your back, subtle but possessive, and it makes your stomach flip. 

It is not really necessary anyway.  Jeongin is genuinely just being friendly.  He even invites you and Felix to sit with him and his friend, Seungmin, and talk about some readings. 

Instinct almost propels you to blurt your usual reply, a polite dismissal or vague promise of a next time that never comes.  Friendships don’t end well.  You know that. 

But Jisung is on your mind, not just the bad but the good.  You find yourself agreeing, then you find yourself sitting at a table with two class-mates, having a normal conversation about school and exams and some silly, gossipy campus rumours.  You laugh and drink, and Felix does too. 

You touch his knee briefly.  He touches your hand under the table. 

You leave the café feeling lighter, a bounce in your step that has Felix smiling affectionately at you. 

“I do have to tell your father something,” Felix reminds you.  “If he found out you were seeing people and I said nothing—”

“Ughhhh, clock out for two seconds,” you say.  To be extra annoying, you reach out and yank his beanie down over his face.  “Just tell him I’m studying with some people.  It’s for the benefit of my education, so I can be  his perfect and dazzling heir, since I am such a well behaved little girl now, all thanks to the dutiful care and guidance of my oh-so competent bodyguard. See? No big deal.” 

Felix fixes his beanie and shakes his head at you, but he still smiling. 

“I think you and the rest of the world have, hmm, a different idea of no big deal,” he says.  “You know, your extremely powerful father for one… and how he might, uhh, ruin our lives…?” 

You shrug. 

“Win some, lose some,” you say, to which Felix laughs and rubs his face in disbelief.  

Although some days the power of your father and the world under the thumb seems insurmountable, some days all you can do is sigh in the face of it.  Today feels like one of those days.  You are so often frightened or sad or just downright despondent.  Sometimes, the pendulum swings back the other way, and all you can do is laugh. 

You do so now, pulling your hood up and tightening the string around your face again. 

“Don’t worry, bodyguard,” you say with an exaggerated, innocent flutter of your eyelashes.  “I trust you to keep me out of trouble.”

-

“Oh, you are gonna get me in so much trouble,” you say.   

Seungmin laughs.  

A few weeks have passed in which you have tentatively befriended Jeongin and Seungmin.  Jeongin is all smiles and wheezy laughter, with a biting wit that catches both you and Felix off guard.  You can tell Felix enjoys his companionship, even beyond the superficial college-boy role he plays.  And not just because Jeongin is something of a gamer and Felix not-so secretly likes having a go at whatever hand console Jeongin keeps on him. 

You quite like Seungmin.  He is more soft-spoken until he has an opinion to vocalize, at which point there is no escaping his somewhat scathing commentary.  His frankness reminds you a little of Hyunjin, just without any showmanship or embellishment.  With Seungmin, what you see is what you get.  He’s smart and funny and playful, and you like listening to him talk about the readings and his family and all the general shenanigans of an ordinary life.

Felix has told your father they are study partners, which is not an outright lie as all of your interactions have taken place on campus.  You have stayed away from parties and clubs and private spaces, so there has been nothing tangible to protest. 

But today certainly straddles that line. 

After class, the four of you went to your usual campus café.  With a major project due at the start of next week, you have been swamped with work. 

It was after a few hours and several coffees that Jeongin suggested a break.  There are a couple bars around the sprawling campus.  Felix was a little hesitant but your pout was as effective as ever in persuading him.  

The bar is a cozy one, packed wall-to-wall with noisy students seeking downtime.  There is no way anything insane would transpire in here. 

Other than Kim Seungmin. 

“What, you can’t leave your boyfriend for a second?” Seungmin says, but with no animosity, smiling his big puppy grin.  He exhales and shakes his head, eyebrows lifted in faux exasperation.  “That sucks for you, wow.” 

“First of all, he’s not my boyfriend,” you say.  You look over at Felix who is standing at a pinball machine with Jeongin.  His eyes keep darting over to you even though you are not that far away.  The game is just a few steps from the couch where you and Seungmin sit.   

Felix smiles.  He is in his favourite black beanie, some ripped black jeans, and a crisp white coat, wisps of blonde hair falling over his freckled face.  He looks like such a guy, just a casual university senior, slouching against the wall with hands in his pockets, chatting with his friend and his eyes on his smiling girlfriend.   It certainly looks as simple as that.  Your heart does not know the difference. 

He looks away for a moment because Jeongin says something.  Felix laughs.  The room is loud so you do not hear him, but you know that laugh so well, the low drop and happy rumble.  His eyes crinkle with delight.  Your heart skips beats like a little girl with a crush starting all over again. 

“Right,” Seungmin says, looking between you and Felix.  “Sure.”

You punch Seungmin playfully on the arm. 

“Stop,” you say.  “We’re just friends.” 

It is for the best you maintain that as your cover story.  It would be far too convoluted to pretend to be together while being together but lying about being together and—    

No.  It is for the best that no one ever suspects, that everyone assumes you are close friends or room-mates and nothing more.  Not an inkling of your true dynamic. 

No one needs to know you woke before your alarm this morning, that you kissed Felix awake, planting soft kisses on his face until he smiled.  That you teased him and kissed him and finally bit his shoulder, a playful step too far, so he gathered you in his arms and kissed you breathless.  That he stretched out behind you, that he pulled back your thigh with a strong grip and kissed your neck.  That he fucked you long and slow until you were gasping and wriggling in his arms.  That he made you come mere minutes before your alarm.  That he then made a professional call to your father about the week’s plans and the pompous, foolish, awful man was none the wiser.   

You look his way.  Felix winks then looks down at the game again. 

Seungmin clears his throat and you look at him with all the innocence you can muster.  He just laughs. 

“Uh-huh,” Seungmin says.  “Well, does he know you’re just friends?  I mean, seriously, watch this—”

Seungmin slings his arm over the back of the couch, not quite around your shoulders but close nonetheless.  He leans in ever so slightly and Felix looks over as if on cue.  He would never cause a scene without due cause, and, besides, you doubt he seriously considers Seungmin a threat, but he instinctively shifts into guard mode. 

It sends Seungmin into peels of laughter.  You thump him on the leg. 

“Ahaha,” Seungmin says, but lowers his arm.  “Fine, I’ll go get drinks all alone so your super good friend doesn’t pop a vein if you come with me.” 

You hide your face in your hands and shake your head while Seungmin laughs.   He gives you a pat on the back before rising and pushing his way through the crowd to get to the bar counter. 

Felix watches him go then looks at you.  You smile at him reassuringly, waving a hand, non-committal. 

Your stomach does a little flip when his sharp stare softens to something more intimate, something just for you.  Years ago, you worried those glances and touches would be addicting, and you were right.  It is more intoxicating than anything in a glass.  Headier than the atmosphere of the bar.  You are flushed with warmth in seconds, the packed heat of the bar keeping that warmth at a simmer. 

You have always desperately chased highs and adrenaline, whatever form they took, good or bad.  When Felix looks away, you crave the thrill of his determined attention, so you stand and step behind the couch.  He looks up as quickly, like you knew he would, standing straight and taking his hands out of his pockets. 

You truly do not go far.  You have no intention of running, of making him follow, of making him worry.  You would not do that to him.  While you are certain no one would try anything in a place as public as a campus bar, you nonetheless will not play completely stupid games.   You only mean to catch his eye so you can level with him a teasing smirk of your own. 

But then someone grabs your arm and yanks.  The unexpected touch and the forcefulness triggers a swift panic, your eyes swimming with the shapes of shuffling bodies, your ears slurring what sound like a friendly enough sentence – someone asking if you are in a certain class with him. 

“I think I’ve seen you,” he says, still gripping your arm.  He smells as drunk as he sounds.  Harmless, or maybe not, given the bruising strength of his touch.  Drunken stupidity can be as dangerous as conniving intention.  “But you always got that little lap dog hanging around, cutie,” he says.  “Can’t get within a foot of you without him in the way—”

Said lap dog manifests without delay.  The man is taller but he is no match for Felix who comes up behind him and yanks on his collar.   

Felix pulls the man over backwards to stare him down.  He says, “Hands. Off. Now.”

The man lets go but with a stupid, futile struggle, shoving you so hard that you hit the woman behind you and topple her drink. 

In less than a second, the man is on the ground, people shrieking and stepping back when he falls.  Felix steps over him to reach you, catching your hand and touching the side of your face. 

“You all right?” he asks. 

Everything happened so fast that you hardly know what to say.  Instinctively, you throw your arms around his neck to be closer to him.  He hugs you back as fiercely, murmuring words of comfort that get muffled in your shoulder. 

His senses are sharper than yours.  He knows the man is up and he turns in time to catch the clumsy punch the guy throws his way.  Felix does not show off, even though he could probably lay the guy low a second time.  He just pushes the hand away. 

This nonchalant rejection seems to anger the man more than a direct hit.  He is embarrassed and his stupor only encourages retaliation.  His buddies are trying to pull him back now, failing to lead him off. 

The man looks at you, red from both exertion and embarrassment, and says with a snarl in his upper lip, “Should keep that dog on a leash.” 

Splash.

It takes a second for everyone to realize what just happened.  The man is as startled as you, standing stock still with something dripping down his face. 

You all look over to Seungmin who is standing there with a half-empty glass.

“Uh… Woof I guess?” Seungmin says, then throws the rest of his drink on him. 

The guy staggers towards Seungmin who backs up rapidly.  Then Jeongin literally flies in between them and takes a swing at the guy.  It completely misses and he smacks his hand on a stool, but it is enough for the man to back up.   He must decide that the odds of three-on-one are not in his favour so he finally abandons course, shaking his head as he stalks off with his friends. 

“Yeah, yeah, walk away,” Seungmin says as menacingly as Seungmin possibly can, which is not much, especially with Jeongin doubled over beside him.  He is shaking out his hand, his face contorted with pain from hitting the stool.  “Are you okay?” Seungmin asks.

“Yeah, I’m—” Jeongin starts. 

“Not you, dumbass,” Seungmin says.  “Go apologize to that chair you assaulted.  I’m talking to her.”  He looks at you with a tilt of his head.

You nod, letting Felix tuck you under his arm.  He rubs your arm soothingly, up and down, and it helps ground you. 

“Just happened really fast,” you say.  “Startled me, you know…” 

“The guy was a jerk,” Seungmin says.  

Felix scoffs.  His eyes follow the retreating figure.  “No kidding,” he says. 

“I just wanna go home,” you say. 

Your panic ebbs and the hurricane inside you settles. 

You touch Felix’s chest.  His heart is beating fast with adrenaline.  Your breath catches when he looks at you, tendrils of frustration radiating off him.  Yet despite the aura of energy, he looks composed, hair neat across his forehead, beanie in place.  His jacket is slightly rucked up the arm, but otherwise he is in perfect command of himself. 

Your heart dances its bewildered little dance. 

His hand drops to your hip and he tugs you close.  He exhales through his nose, your eyes drawn to his closed mouth.

You think you must be drunk despite not touching a drop of liquor.  How else to explain the physical sensations inside you, so contradictory to your heart and mind?  Your soul could never, ever abide by violence or true possessive domination, not with your history and upbringing. 

But perhaps it is that, the naturally contradictory nature of its manifestation in Felix.  Made by violence, but not made of it.  You feel safe because his careful touches and gentle glances do not come from the same blithe, civilian naivete of your sweet friends.  It comes from all the violence and control that he rises above. 

He holds you and you are safe, protected. 

You say goodbye to your friends and Felix calls the car.  You wait outside together in the light of a streetlamp.  The cool night air dwindles what remains of his adrenaline, though his heart picks up when you step closer, when you press your face to his neck and sigh. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“You did nothing wrong,” he says, cupping your cheek and lifting your face.  His thumb strokes your cheek, down along your jaw.  He looks into your eyes and smiles.  “You were just standing there.  He shouldn’t have grabbed you.  You okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you say.  You look down and his hand falls away from your face.  You fiddle with the zipper of his jacket then drag it down a couple inches.  “I’m just really sorry.” 

He is silent for a moment, his back a little stiffer.  You think he catches the tone in your voice because his hand drifts a little lower, resting on the base of your spine.

“I see,” he says, voice lower.  “Even though Jeongin did all the work hitting that stool—?”

The unexpected joke in a sultry exchange makes you snort with laughter.  The sound surprises Felix who laughs so hard he almost falls over.  You give him a little shove, shaking your head. 

“All right, all right,” he says, patting your back.  “Behave.  The car is coming.” 

“I always behave,” you say with a swish of your coat, stomping ahead of him to the approaching sedan.    

You sit in silence for part of the journey, quiet even with the partition up.  Felix has an elbow resting on the window sill, temple pressed to his fist as he stares at the passing streetlights. 

“Are you mad?” you ask in your coldest tone. 

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, dimple flashing with an aborted smile.  “I’m never mad,” he says.  “I’m a professional.” 

“Right,” you say.  You slide across the seat to be closer to him but he puts up his hand, stopping you.

“I know it’s a limo, but seatbelt, yeah?” he says.  You do not miss the patronizing tone. 

“You gonna make me?” you ask.  You grab his hand and lower it, looking at him with your smokiest gaze.

His tongue jabs into his cheek as he looks at your hands, palms touching, fingers lacing.  He appears contemplative, beyond your little game.  You give his hand a gentle squeeze.   His eyes meet yours. 

“I never want to hurt you,” he says, low even though no one can hear you back here.  “You know that, yeah?  You know I—  I never knew how to want or not want something.  I would never—”

“I know, Felix,” you say. 

I love you too. 

It sits on the tip of your tongue.  You very nearly say it in that same low voice. 

He lowers your hand to your lap, his palm to your knuckles as he cups your thigh and squeezes.  Once, twice, three times.  He taps on your knee three times then guides you to do the same.  You are a bit bemused until he says, “If you want to talk to me, then…”  Three more touches. 

“I see,” you say, hot beneath the skin of your cheeks and throat, your heart a thunderous thing.  “You expect to shut my mouth then?”  You blink at him too cutely. 

“I expect you to apologize properly,” he says. 

He catches your face before you can spit a rejoinder.  It steals your breath.  He holds your face steady in his hand, jaw pinched, mouth shut, his eyes burning into the side of your face. 

“You answer to me,” he says sternly.  “You think you’re sorry, yeah?  Then you’re going to apologize.  Properly.  Quietly.  Obediently.  Now nod for me.  You understand.”  

You do not nod.  You look at him out of the corner of your eye.  His lips break into a smile. 

“Ah,” he says.  “I see.”

And he does.  He has always seen to the depths of you.  Just as you have always seen beneath his surface smiles. 

The driver sees nothing but a professional on payroll, exchanging an evening pleasantry before Felix escorts you into the apartment building.  The greeter nods at you, you nod back.  Felix marches you into the elevator and stands politely at your side, hands in his pockets. 

You lean on opposite walls of the elevator.  He takes off the beanie and tucks it in his pocket.  Then he runs his fingers through his hair, fluffing the fair strands.  Eventually he meets your gaze.  You stare at each other, a silent exchange of thought and anticipation. 

In the apartment, he does his security check.  You take your time drifting toward the bedroom, wiping off your lipstick, dropping your coat in the middle of the doorway.  He scoops it up as he enters behind you, tutting while he brushes it off. 

“No respect,” he says but lightly, teasingly. 

He walks right past you and drapes the coat neatly over the back of your computer chair.  There, he stands with his back to you, unzipping and discarding his own jacket.  It leaves him in a black t-shirt and his ripped black jeans, plus those heavy regulation army boots.  He is a sharp streak of black shadow, all at odds with his light hair and sweet freckled face as he turns to look at you. 

You stand across the bedroom from each other.  Your heart is going a mile a minute as he looks you over.  You hardly know why the roving glance affects you so deeply.  He has seen you in a hundred variations of dressed and undressed.  Checking you out in your jeans and t-shirt should hardly warrant a herd of butterflies in your belly. 

But it does.  Your skin feels alight as he looks at you, assessing you like a target.  When his dark eyes flick up to meet yours, he is not smiling.  He exhales.  His shoulders are tense, his body hard.

“Take off your clothes,” he says. 

You expected some deviance from routine given your flirtations, but that is still quite different.  You often undress each other, or you provoke him by stripping, flustering him into surrender.  He is not flustered now, his stare cold and ungiving as he waits expectantly for you to obey. 

Your fingers flutter at your side.  Your lips part with a breath. 

“Um,” you say, voice rough with arousal in a way you cannot hide.  It is hard to fake an affronted feeling, though it is not hard to look nervous.   “Excuse me?” 

“Everything,” Felix says.  “Off.  Now.” 

You scoff, suffusing the worst of your jitters into the sound.  You feign a cocky tilt of your head, hands on your hips as you say, “I don’t think you’re in position to give me orders.  If my daddy knew—”

He lifts his knee only infinitesimally but when his foot slams down there is a knife in his hand. 

He flicks some hair out of his hair and smiles, perky, just like Felix. 

“Off,” he says.  “Or I take it off.” 

What should be a flicker of fear is a font of pure desire, sharp in your belly and hot between your legs.  You look at the knife then his cool smile, the crinkle of pleasure in the corners of his eyes, the pretty fall of his hair.  He flips the knife over his knuckles, around and around, smoothly, thoughtlessly. 

You step out of your shoes and kick them aside.  Your jitters are back, excited and jumpy, prickling under your skin as you lift your shirt over your head and toss that aside too. 

“Neatly,” he says, with a tsk, tsk tsk.  “Don’t make a mess.  Daddy wouldn’t like that, would he?” 

“Bastard,” you say, flushed with the admonition.  It also makes you a little giddy.  There is real power and real evil out there, and it is utterly meaningless in the face of everything between you and Felix.  It is a punchline.  It is an inside joke.  The only thing that holds any real power is his gaze, his voice, his hands.

Your eyes, your sigh, your obedience.  It makes him blush, despite his relative position of power, watching you neatly fold your shirt and place it on the bedside table.  You remove your jeans and fold those too. 

When you look at him, he points the knife to your underclothes, a mute statement: yes, I mean those too.  So you take off your bra and place it on the table, flushed and hasty and embarrassed and excited.  You slip off your panties and crumple them.  You miss the table and they fall to the floor, and Felix points to it with the knife. 

“Pick it up,” he says. 

You do, quickly, putting it on the pile then stepping away.  You cross your arms, only a little chilled, mostly hot under his gaze. 

“Good,” he says.  “Very good.” 

With a flick of his wrist, the knife is swiftly embedded in your desk behind him.  He does not even look back. 

You jump.  It makes your heart beat even faster, stomach tied up in anticipatory knots, desperate to unravel as he approaches you with a slow, predatory stroll. 

He circles you.  His fingertips brush your side, sending a shiver shooting up your spine.   He takes a pillow off the bed and puts it on the floor. 

You stand with your back to him, arms still crossed.  He touches the middle of your back, walks his fingers gently up your spine until he is holding the back of your neck, pulling you into him, your naked body against his clothed one. 

“Get on your knees,” he says.  You swear his voice is even deeper than usual.  “Sweetheart.”    

You cannot think of a snarky reply, not even when he steps back and you can breathe again.  You just look at him over your shoulder and make a show of rolling your eyes.  He tips his head, regarding you as if oh-so confused by your petulance. 

He stands while you kneel.  You sit back on your heels and hum to yourself as if bored. 

He ignores that, pointing to bed and saying, “Face there, not me.” 

You look at him with genuine confusion, once more surprised by his direction, but you do as told.  You kneel facing the bed.  He gets down on one knee beside you, cups the back of your head and guides you up, off your heels. 

“Up, up, up,” he says in too jovial of a tone, so frustratingly Felix.  “Hands up here.”  He pats the bed with his other hand until you uncross your arms and place them where directed.  “That’s it,” he says.  “Just like that, sweetheart.” 

He stands, leaving you kneeling at the bedside, upright, arms in front of you.  Kneeling like a penitent in prayer at their bedside.  You look over your shoulder at him, wearing your best and bitchiest expression. There is an irrevocable challenge in your eyes. 

Clink.

Your eyes drop to his belt, to the swift flick of leather and metal over his hands as he opens it.  He is unhurried, sliding it free of its loops. 

But then he does not discard it.  He folds it over his hand.  Once, twice, three times. 

He tips his head.  He holds up three fingers, a question.  

He knows the significance here.  He knows how your insides unravel at the sight of that belt hooked around his fist.  

You know he would stop if you said so.  If you said the word three, if you held up three fingers, if you tapped three times or did anything else to speak to him.  He has given you a voice in every form.  

He is standing over you, at once a personification of your pains and fears, and also he is none of them.   This does not feel the way it did back then, unwilling and tortured and harmed. 

He loves you.  And he is trapped with you, and he is carving out holes in the world with you.  He is handing you back your life, if only pieces, however he can.   You are not a scared little girl under him.  You are in control of that pendulum of emotion.  There is no power in the things that once scared you.  It is a punchline.  An inside joke.  

You smile at him. 

He gets down on one knee again, squeezes the nape of your neck then runs his hand down your spine.  Your back arches under his touch, breath staggering into gasps even though all he does is caress you skin. 

You jump when he smacks the soft curve of your ass, just the flat of his palm on your skin, but already you are tingling head to toe with pleasure. 

“I am responsible for you, yeah?” he says, and smacks you there again.  “That means you are mine.  You don’t run off, you don’t play games.  You do what I say.”

“Or what?” you say, voice already breathy.  “You’ll beat me up like you did that brute in the bar?”

You can hear him adjusting the belt, flipping it around his hand for a better grip. 

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he asks.  “Does it get your pussy wet, watching me hurt them for you?”

You don’t get a chance to answer.  Your voice is a feathery-light sound, piercing a gasp when he brings that strip of leather down against your backside. 

You squirm.  You are already so, so wet. 

“Hmm?” he asks, and does it again, a stinging, hot line across your skin.  “Is that how it is?” 

“I hate you,” you say.  You are gripping the blanket, nails digging in.  Your back arches at another strike, chest pushing into the bedding. 

“Awww…” he says, careless.  “Yeah… I know.” 

You must be wriggling too much because Felix pins you down with his free hand, your cheek pressed to the blanket.  He adjusts his position for a better reach. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, and snaps the belt across your skin.  This one makes you cry out.  “I know exactly how you feel about me.” 

You cry turns to a watery whine, shaking when he gently sweeps his fingertips across your smarting backside.  Your breath snags when he leans in close, breath ghosting your skin. 

“I know,” he says.  “Because it gets my dick hard.  Oh?  What’s that?  Did that scare you?”  He hits you again.  “You wanna tell your daddy?  Tell him how you’re all wet because your mean bodyguard got a little too, mmm, rough with you?” 

He kisses the middle of your back and you shiver. 

“Mmm,” he says.  “No.  You’re not going to do that, are you?  You’re going to stay right… here…” He leans back and snaps his wrist again, patting you when the belt sears your skin and you cry out again.  “That’s it.  You’re gonna take it until you apologize—”

“I’m sorry,” you say, even while tilting your hips, seeking more from him.  You can feel how wet you are when you squish your thighs together, hot and slick between them.  “I really am.”

“Oh?” he says.  “For what?”

“Uhhh—”  It turns to another yelp when he hits you again.  “F-for disobeying y-you.” 

“Why is that bad, sweetheart?”

“B-because—”  You don’t even cry out when he does it again.  This sound is a pure moan, roughly exhaled into the bed.  “Because you’re in charge,” you say breathlessly, voice on the cusp of a sob.  You can feel your knees starting to shake.  “Y-you’re in charge of me.” 

“Am I?” 

You hear the belt unravel, the clink of the metal as it hits the floor.  He touches you with his bare hand, smoothing his palm over your warm, smarting skin.  Every inch of you quivers with the tingling aftershock of the soft touch. 

“Yes,” you say.  “I’m—I’m yours, Felix.” 

There is a moment of quiet when all he does it touch you, gently, a caress across your stinging skin.  Your whole body reacts to him, the slightest brush sending floods of heat shooting through you. 

He traces a circle on your backside, pinches the warm skin.  It makes that sob spill over your lips. 

“Say it again,” he says, his voice lower, only just above a whisper. 

“I’m yours,” you say just as softly.  A tear spills onto the blanket. 

“My name.”

“Felix,” you say.  “My bodyguard.” 

“Yes,” he says, still in that soft voice.  He slips his hand down between your legs and you rear up, spreading your thighs, eager to feel him.  “I am, aren’t I?”  He hardly needs to touch you to feel how wet you are.  Just a surface touch wets his fingers with your desire, a slow stroke that makes your knees shake again.   “I’m good at it, aren’t I?” he says, and takes his hand back.  “At guarding this body.  Hmm?”

Another tear spills out.  You nod, breathing hard into the blanket. 

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat. 

He stands up and you lift your head, blinking up at him with big, wet eyes.  You can see how hard he is, obscenely bulging behind his fly.  It makes your mouth water, makes you press your cheek into the blanket as you stare at him wantingly.  

“If I’m not going to hit you,” he says, “then what am I going to do with you?” 

His thumb presses at his zipper and he smiles, dimpled and cheeky, and slowly tugs it down.  Your knees finally surrender and you sit again, slumped against the bed and reaching between your legs. 

“Uh-uh-uh—” he says, diving down to catch your arm. 

You groan, wriggling while he scoops you up and deposits you on the bed as easily as tossing a pillow.   You shuffle around, making some pitiful blubbery noises as you lay on your sore backside.  You rest your head on a pillow, breathing hard, so aware of your body in a way you have never felt before. 

Felix takes off his boots while you settle yourself.  Then he gets on the bed and kneels at your feet, a vision of sin in his black clothes with his flushed face and heady, dark eyes.  He wets his lips, leaves his tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth as he looks at you like a meal offered to a starving man. 

“Hold the headboard, sweetheart,” he says, nodding above you. 

You do not look away from him, reaching back to grip one of the bars in the headboard.  Though your legs are pressed together, you feel the exposure of the vulnerable position, throbbing everywhere he looks at you.    

Your breath gets ragged when he moves closer.  He takes a pillow, ripping it out of its case and tossing the cushion aside.  He flips the soft material of the pillowcase around his fist until it makes a long line like a soft rope. 

Then your hands are bound to the headboard.  His fingers curl around yours, showing you how to tap, how to talk to him.  It registers, even if he immediately distracts you with a wandering hand, slipping down your body to touch and fondle. 

Then he is back at your feet, grabbing your ankles and sliding up, up, up until his hands are hooked under your knees and he can spread you open to him. 

Your hips buck, your back arches, legs shaking in his steady hold.  You are so open to him that it makes you whimper and close your eyes. 

They open again when you feel his mouth between your legs, his teasing abruptly finished as he dives in with full commitment.  You cry out in relief, with utter ecstasy, noisier than you have ever been as he licks and sucks and strokes.  You twitch when he nips at your thighs, when he slips his tongue inside you, when he licks back up then tortures the source of your pent-up need, again and again until you are crying out and coming hard on his tongue. 

He lets you finish, takes over that peak and beyond.  He lowers your trembling legs, lets you wrap them around his hips.  You make a horrible mess of his pants, you are sure, grinding up against the hard material. 

“Shhh, shh, shh,” he says, reaching past you to the bedside table. 

You hardly have a second to look before he is shoving your balled up panties in your mouth. 

“That’s it,” he says, kissing down your neck.  “That’s a good girl.  Don’t need to think, yeah?” 

He sits back on his heels and finally unzips all the way.  He shuffles his pants and boxers down past his hips.  He smiles, then pushes your legs against you so are nearly folded in half. 

“Just—” he says with a soft grunt, pushing at the soft, wet heat of you, so easily sliding inside.  “Just—need—to—take it.”

And you do, moaning helplessly into your gag, still sore from your earlier punishment but all that sensation mingling with everything hard and sweet and good between your thighs.  Your eyes close and you let yourself float, feeling as he hits all those soft places inside you that make your body keen.  When you come again, it is just from that, and a stream of euphoric tears follow as you wrap him between your legs and bring him over the edge with you. 

“God,” he says, dropping every trace of his persona, sounding near tears himself as he comes inside you.  “God—fucking—You.  Oh, sweetheart.  Jesus.  I—” 

His brain sounds as mushy as yours, maybe only marginally smarter because he takes out your gag and releases you from your bondage. 

Your arms fall limp around your head and you hum sweetly, literal music moving through you as your whole body aches with pleasant aftershocks. 

“We gotta clean you up,” he says softly, from somewhere, stroking your sweaty skin. “And I wanna take care of where I used the—”

“Felix,” you murmur, “if you don’t get over here and kiss me stupid, then I’m gonna take a turn with the belt.”

He laughs, then you feel him stretched out beside you, his arms circling you.  You roll into his embrace, throwing your leg around his hip and snuggling into him. 

“You still hate me, yeah?” he says after a moment, though how he expects any coherency when he is massaging down your arm like that, you do not know. 

But you nod, kissing his chest.

“Of course, you’re my bodyguard,” you say. 

You sigh when he smooths his hand over your backside, tenderly caressing the sore skin. 

“Yes,” he says.  “Always.”

-

It sounds almost ridiculous to say, but he honestly fucked you so good that you feel like a new woman. 

You have a little skip in your step – or maybe it’s a limp – for the next couple days, and it’s cute how it flusters him in the daylight because he knows the cause. 

In the mood for a full cleansing, you get the idea to clean out your closet.  You toss things around left and right, sorting donations and garbage and pieces you forgot you owned. 

You are elbow deep in a pile of old sweaters when your fingers curl around something soft.  You yank it out of the pile, hidden away at the very back of your closet.  You wonder what it is and why you have not been wearing it when it is so soft—

Peppy music is blaring out of your speakers, your disposition cheery and pleasant as can be.  It all gets a little fuzzy when you unfold the sweater and realize it is Jisung’s hoodie, the one he gave you that last night you left his house. 

You and Felix are meeting Jeongin and Seungmin after class today, a usual coffee at your usual café while you do the finishing touches on your semester project.  Having friends and a lover and a future you can almost see, can almost imagine controlling if only in your own special way, makes you realize how far you have come. 

Things have changed.  You have changed.  You have forgotten a lot about high school.  You don’t really remember faces, or the things that had you stressed, or half the arguments with your father.  You were obsessed with Lee Minho for years but, frankly, you can hardly remember what he looked like.

But you touch the hoodie and you can feel your best friend, solid as if he was still sitting beside you.  When you lift it to your chest, you swear you can faintly smell the lingering trace of him, that boyish body spray that was probably baked into everything he owned but that you stopped noticing because you were around him so much. 

It is the smell that overwhelms you.  In a matter of moments, your face is buried in the hoodie and you are crying, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re happy or because you’re not. 

Felix comes running, stumbling to a stop in your closet door and looking at you with alarm. 

“Sweetheart?” he says, crouching down beside you.  “What is it?  What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say, because you don’t know what to say.  You lift your head and look at him, face streaked with tears.  He wipes them immediately, a gentle back and forth, soothing you until your crying is just a mere hiccup.  “I’m sorry,” you say, wiping your face on your sleeve.  “I don’t know why I still get so worked up.” 

“About what?” Felix asks. 

You open the hoodie and recognition lights up in his eyes. 

“Jisung,” he says. 

“You recognize it?” you say, a bit surprised. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says, and looks at you with a dimpled grin.  “You were wearing this the first night we—”

“Right,” you say with a watery giggle. 

You look back down and sniffle some more, blinking back another onslaught of tears.  You run your hand over the material while Felix rubs a soothing circle on your back. 

“Why is it so hard to let go?” you ask softly.  “When I have people here, now...  When I have a future and…”  You trail off, voice breaking.  You wipe your face again. 

“I don’t know,” Felix says, sounding as morose.  His gaze wanders.  You can see his own mental space shift as he goes somewhere far away.  “I guess…”  He rubs the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.  “One person can’t, uh, really replace another, I guess.  And he was your friend.  It’s different.”  He swallows.  “You can’t just let go of love.  Not… not easily.”

“I guess not,” you say.  You trace a circle on the material with your thumb.  You sigh.  “I should get ready for school.” 

“Yeah,” Felix says, voice breaking too.  He clears his throat and stands.  “Do you need anything?”

You shake your head, hugging the hoodie to your chest and staring straight ahead. 

“No,” you say softly.  “Thank you, Felix.” 

You are a little too distracted with your own thoughts and grief to notice his own solemn disposition.  He does not hold it against you, though, as you are distracted for the rest of the day.  The cause is reasonable enough. 

You are sitting in the library with Felix and your friends, working on your project but distracted, when you lift your head and spot the library computers. 

You have not looked for Jisung anywhere, not online or in person, far too terrified your father would find out and track him down and kill him.  You remember his rage.  You know how serious he was. 

But that seems far away now, not the same nightmarish terror that haunted your every shaking step.  Now you are staring at the campus computers with a more calculating air.  You realize there is no way to trace any searches back to you if they are made on a public server.  

Felix looks up when you stand, shooting you a questioning look.  You just point to the computers and he nods, slouching back in his seat again. 

You feel a little queasy, maybe from the tumultuous feelings of the day.  Maybe plain worry.  Until now, you could pretend Jisung was fine, but what if he isn’t?  God, what if your father went after him anyway?  What if something else happened?  What if he got worse after you left him on that hospital bed?  You are sick with the thought. 

The world needs him.  You need him.  Even far away, even without seeing or touching him, because your friendship does not require that.  It can be words on a page, tucked away in a yearbook that you read on your worst days when you need a reason to keep fighting. 

And so you search.  You find results faster than you thought.  It turns out Jisung has been writing music.  He is very underground and indie, it seems.  He does not have a huge collection of followers, but his artistry has stirred interest nonetheless.  You find his social media profiles without much struggle, as well as his soundcloud and professional profiles.  It looks like he works part time at a grocery store while making music.

You click through his profiles, smiling at some of his goofy pictures and videos.  There are some click-bait short videos with dramatic fonts slashed over his face, saying things like GIRLFRIEND DRAMA!! and GAY RIVALS??

You click on a couple.  It’s just videos where he talks to the camera, but he’s so funny that it feels like miniature stand-up routines. Some of these videos get more views than his music.

It looks like he had a girlfriend for a while, then a boyfriend, which is probably not too surprising when you remember he was obsessed with Hyunjin. 

He says exactly that in his video, laughing as he runs his hands through his hair, black-painted nails stark against the lighter dyed locks.

“Yeah…” he says, laughing awkwardly, “Turns out most people don’t have an arch-nemesis that occupies their every thought in their horny teenage years.  Who knew, right?” 

The comment sections are all a bit chaotic, as comment sections are often a no-man’s land of anarchy, but it feeds the algorithm so he lets the public run amok.  It does not seem to ruffle his feathers.

You scroll until you see a video with the words BEST FRIEND?  It is the only video where he turned the comments off. 

You are not sure what you are expecting.  It has been years.  This video could be about anyone.  He has more friends, quite a lot by the look of it. 

His video starts with that very message.

“I know it’s hard to believe since I am, like, so insanely beautiful and funny and popular and talented now,” he says with a goofy drawl, grinning at the camera, “but I used to be like… the loser.  Not even a loser, no way, man, I’m an overachiever.  I mean the loser.  I did not have any friends but, like, I didn’t even have any enemies either, like what’s a guy got to do to get bullied around here?  I was just, you know, kinda invisible I guess… Hard to believe I developed issues and became an online clout-chaser like whoo-hoo…”

You shake your head, smiling in spite of yourself.  The Jisung on camera is wearing glasses, his hair longer than you remember.  His shoulders are broader and he looks good, healthy. 

He rubs his shoulder as he gazes past the camera, looking wistful. 

“I had one friend, though, eventually,” he says.  “I used to think she was kinda scary but, also, to be fair, I thought everything was scary back then haha…  I mean, not haha, you know I was… It was rough. I was like ready to end it all, man…  Times were hard!  Teenage angst, you know, nothing like it!  But she, uh…” 

He looks at the camera and it makes your spine straighten.  This was posted a year ago.  He is not actually talking to you, but for a moment he feels present. 

“She was really good at seeing people,” he says.  “I think, maybe, that’s because she wanted for someone to see her too.  But, like, that’s hard to ask for… And even harder to accept when you finally have it.  She would run away just as fast as she would want attention, haha.  But at the same time… You know, she got it.  She got me. We got each other.  Until then, neither of us had ever really—you know, we didn’t really have good families and stuff, we didn’t have friends.  I talk about firsts a lot, and, you know, every one makes a deal out of their first kiss and their first lay and stuff but like…  Your first friend...”

You pause the video for a second, blinking so you don’t cry in the library.  You briefly glance at Felix, Jeongin, and Seungmin.  Jeongin has predictably strayed from his studies, showing Felix something on his hand console.  Seungmin throws a pencil at them. 

You smile then look back at the screen, hitting play. 

“It changes you, you know?” Jisung says.  “Especially at that age, you know, when you’re growing and stuff… You kinda learn from each other.  Even though we super different, in some ways we were the same, and I think I still… um, carry her with me.  It sounds cheesy but it’s true. I was a stupid softy but her…!  She never took anyone’s shit!  And I got better at that, and I think it was because of her.  We, um, we didn’t exactly have a falling out—  Life just—  Sometimes life isn’t fair.  And she was… she was kinda in a bad spot.  And at the time I felt like I let her down, because I couldn’t get her out.  Of course, now I’m like, yo, we were both kids, haha, how the fuck was I gonna do that anyway… And before we said goodbye, you know, she told me I did save her, and I didn’t really know what she meant at the time.  But when I realized how much of her was still with me all the time, every day, how much she taught me to get me where I am today… I got it.  I still wish I could have done more, but I get it.  And I mean, um, hey, if you’re out there—”

You are startled into greater attention when he looks directly in the eye of the camera.  You realize he is speaking to you, across space and time, as surely as a scribble in your yearbook or a laugh in your memory. 

“I don’t know if you’ll ever see this,” he says.  “But I, uh, I told you once a best friend promise is forever.  Ten years, twenty years, fifty years, you know… hit me up.  But, um, even if you don’t… even if you can’t…” 

He takes a breath and shakes his shoulders, wiggling like he would do when he was trying not to cry.  He exhales and smiles.  You can see all the emotion behind that smile, grief and hope alike. 

“I just hope you’re happy,” he says.  “I am.  And that’s partly because of you.  So if you ever need a reason, or an excuse, or whatever to be happy… This is it.  Thank you for… for everything I guess.  I loved you so much that it made me love the whole world just because you were in it.  So I don’t need anything else from you, but if you could be happy for me… Yeah.  That, uh, that would be good.” 

He pauses, purses his lips, then he laughs a very watery laugh. 

“Okay!” he says.  “I’m gonna go cry now like a big baby.  Love you all! Bye!  See you next time.  Oh yeah, stream Volcano!  Bye!”

You end up laughing through your tears, Jisung being so incredibly Jisung.  You glance back at Felix and your friends, watching them try to keep their laughter down as they snicker over something in Jeongin’s game.  Seungmin has his big puppy grin on and Jeongin’s dimple are so deep as glee pours off him.

Felix looks so delighted and carefree, his whole face glowing like it was touched by a drop of sunshine. 

You want this. 

Now.  Always. 

Oh, Jisung, you think to yourself.  How many times are you going to save me?

You open a new window and make a profile on the website.  Fortunately, Jisung allows private messages from accounts he does not follow.  You just hope he clicks on the message despite the blank profile.  You cannot have anything public that would give you away in any capacity. 

But you open the private message and you write, and you hope it reaches him, even after you have closed the window and walked away, head high with your purpose and a newfound determination to fulfill his only wish for you.

-

To the bestest most awesome boy in the world, from the bestest most awesome girl in the world.

I think I have that whole note memorized by now.  I don’t know you even remember these words, but it was how you started your message in my yearbook. 

I know it’s been a long time but I wanted to reach out.  My situation hasn’t really changed, so it’s still not safe to see you properly, which is why I’m messaging this way.  I’m sorry for that.  But I saw your video where you said you were happy, and I just wanted to say how glad I am.  You deserve the world, Jisungie.  I hope you know how much it loves you back.  How much I love you back. 

I have friends and even a boyfriend now.  I don’t think I would have any of it if not for you.  I think I am starting to be happy, but truth be told I don’t really know what that is supposed to feel or look like.  But I think I am starting to understand.  I think I know what I have to do. 

I’m going to get out.  I am going to get my love out too.  I have been waiting and wallowing, but I’m not going to do that anymore.  I want to be happy, whatever that looks like. 

Thank you for saving me when you did.  Now it’s time for me to save myself. 

You also gave me the world and I love it a little more everyday.  I hope someday soon I can see more of it.  If I’m lucky, maybe I will see you too, but even if we never meet face-to-face again, know I carry you with me too.  A best friend promise is a forever promise, right? 

Take care, Jisung.  Keep fighting.  Be happy. 

Love,

Your best friend. 

Now and always.

♡

[alexiabae]

ONE DAY; fridolina rolfö x fem!reader

Summary: frido calls y/n after the semifinal match against spain.

Warnings: sad frido, fluff. short.

Note: English is not my first language.

Frido bites her bottom lip, sitting far away from her national teammates. She unblocked her phone and saw a lot of missed calls from her family, friends and Y/N.

She leaned her back on the wall, hearing the distant quiet chat between some of them. The blonde pressed the button to start a FaceTime call. She wants to forget everything that happened right now and talk with her favourite person.

"Hii, love." Y/N's face approached after a few seconds. She was giving her a sad smile, her eyes looking red, accentuating her colour eyes.

"I'm the only one who loses. What is your excuse?" Frido asked in a raspy voice, a tiny smile decorating her lips.

Y/N shakes her head, chuckling softly. "Well, my excuse is seeing you cry." She confessed, shrugging.

The blonde bites a little too hard on her lower lip, holding her own tears for this confession. Something really hard to do when she cried recently.

"Sorry..." Frido muttered, closing her eyes briefly and inevitably a tear rolled for her left cheek.

"You don't have to apologize, mi amor. You have the right to cry and feel sad." Y/N said firm in a soft voice.

Frido gives her one of her famous smiles, showing all her teeth, this time adorned by her tears. "I told you how much I love you?" She asked, watching between her blurred vision how Y/N shakes her head slowly.

"Something I heard..." Y/N giggles. "Frido... I know you are disappointed," Y/N started to say, looking at her with a serious but soft look. Frido swallows, nodding with her head briefly. "You were hopeful and I'm not gonna lie... I was too. I don't care if I am from Spain or not. You know what I think about Spain in this tournament..." Y/N bites her bottom lip, not wanting to let out any tears right now. "Just remember this encounter and make a promise to come back and do it until the final. Because I know you can. Sweden can do it." Y/N finished, clearing her throat to swallow the lump formed there.

A sob escapes from Frido's lips, hiding with a hand her eyes, letting all the tears out. "I p-promise you t-that." She stammered, wiping her tears with the palm of her hand that covered her eyes before.

"I know. You won the League's title, nationals cups, you just won the champions league... Do you think that you can't win the euro or the world cup? Because I'm sure if it's not the two, some of them could be." Y/N reassured her, smiling widely when Frido chuckled.

"We can be like Irene..." Frido trailed off, a silly smile playing on her lips. She saw how her girlfriend frowned, confused. "With a toddler around us." She clarified, enjoying the new colour on Y/N's cheeks.

"Do you not have enough with your young teammates?" Y/N whispered, making Frido laugh.

Frido shakes her head, still smiling. She stopped crying at this point. "Nop."

"What about Lucy?" This makes her laugh more. "She's like a child."

"I know." Frido said between laughs. "I'm not saying that it needed to happen. But, I see myself with you and a little you." The blonde admitted, shrugging.

"Well, I prefer a little Frido." Y/N admitted too, a new shape of red decorating her cheeks.

The Swedish blonde smirked. "I like these new propositions."

"I'm in love with an idiot." Y/N muttered, earning the laugh from the striker. Then, the Spanish looks up.

It's when Frido pays attention to where Y/N is. Well, she didn't know where she was, and Frido is trying to figure it out.

"Where are you? I don't recognise it." Frido asked, curiously.

Y/N looks down again, looking briefly at her sides. "I'm going to my mom's." Y/N lied, trying not to show her surroundings. "I need to hang up now. I will call you in a few minutes." She announced.

"Okay...?" Frido said, a little confused. "If you don't call in said time, I will." She said, making Y/N laughs this time.

The Spanish hung up and walked into the tunnel, accompanied by Pernille. "She is so in love." The Danish woman hummed, smirking mischievously.

"Shut up. You are too." Y/N muttered, looking down.

"From your girlfriend?" Pernille asked, smugly.

"No! Y-You understand me." Y/N stammered, hitting Pernille's arm, making her laugh.

"Yes, but I love teasing you." The forward admitted, approaching the door they were searching. "I'm going to text Magda." She said, grabbing her phone.

Y/N waited by her side, watching the people walk up and down the tunnel. For her luck, the Spanish girls are in their changing room, celebrating the pass to the final.

The door opening behind her, gained her attention. Magda opened it, her face displaying all what she was feeling in that moment, but a tiny smile grew up when she saw Y/N.

"Nice to see you again, kiddo." Magda said in a raspy voice, wrapping an arm around Y/N's shoulder and hugging her.

Y/N rolled her eyes, hugging her too. "You are older than me for only three years"

"Whatever you said, kiddo." Magda said, separating from the hug and pecking Pernille's lips.

"You two are insoportable." Y/N muttered, crossing her arms.

The couple turned to look at her with teasing smirks and smugly expressions while they were still hugging.

"Let's go inside." Magda said, taking off her arms from Pernille and grabbing her hand, she gets inside, Y/N following.

Y/N saw how devastated the girls are. Some of them are sitting together, giving each other encouragement words, others just comforting each other and others are alone. She saw how Hanna raised her head and crossed her gaze with hers, a look of surprise decorating her features.

"Hello." Y/N greeted, waving with her hand.

"Hey..." Hanna greeted her, still shocked. "Sorry, I'm in shock. I'm not waiting for you at this moment." She laughed nervously. Then, the blonde wrapped her arms around her neck. Y/N wrapped her arms around her too, giving a soft pat on her back.

"I believe in this team." Y/N simply said. She gave her an apologetic smile when they separated, wiping Hanna's tears.

"She is over there." Hanna muttered, indicating with a move of her head in the direction.

Y/N thanked her and kissed her forehead, walking slowly towards the young Swedish said. She saw Frido sitting on a bench, both elbows leaning on her knees, her face hiding by her hands. She walked towards her and sat down, watching her.

Frido noticed someone sitting next to her, but she doesn't pay too much attention, she just keeps trying to focus on another thing while she waits for Y/N to call her. Her knee bounced a little.

Y/N passed her tongue to her lips, a funny expression on her eyes. "You know... It's a little rude for you to not show interest in the person who sits down next to you."

The blonde blinked a few times while raising her head to look at the new voice. "W-What are you d-doing here?" Frido asked, looking astonished.

The Spanish shrugged and soon a squeal escaped from her mouth because Frido lifted her from her seat to her lap and proceeded to hug her, hiding her head on Y/N's neck and wrapping her arms around her torso.

"You don't answered me." Frido said in a muffled voice.

"I came to surprise you. I don't tell you because when I landed here, you started to play. So I contacted P and Magda and we agreed that P would come for me at the airport." Y/N explained.

"I missed you." The Swedish whispered, kissing her neck and raising her head, she was met by Y/N's gaze.

"Me too." Y/N muttered, looking at how Frido's blue eyes lit up. When the blonde travels her gaze towards Y/N's lips, the other decides to not lose time and break the little space.

It was slow, a chaste kiss. Y/N putting on her hands on Frido's cheeks and when it intensifies, a groan escapes from their mouths.

"Please, the public affection that you two are showing kept it in private!" Magda exclaims with clear intentions to tease her friends.

Frido without saying anything, stood up, making Y/N to wrap her legs on her waist and without breaking the kiss, the blonde walked to an empty cubicle. Some whistles were heard by her teammates.

"I'm not going to have sex with you, here." Y/N murmured on her lips, pecking it a few times.

"I can wait until we are alone." Frido said, smiling by Y/N's kisses on her face. She leaned Y/N's back on the door when she closed it.

"How are you?" Y/N asked, caressing Frido's cheeks with her thumbs.

"I will be better." Frido muttered, closing her eyes and enjoying Y/N's touch.

Y/N pecked her nose, seeing how the player scrunched her nose.

"I like that jersey, by the way." Y/N commented, leaning her head aside with a lipped smile.

Frido looks down to see her new jersey. "Forget about it. The only colour you would see me in red is when I wear a barça jersey. Yellow always."

"Is maroon. Not red." Y/N hummed, laughing when she saw how Frido rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, you understand me." Frido shut her kissing her again.

"Couple, we need to go now." Pernille interrupted them from the other side.

"Would you come with me to Sweden?" Frido asked, ignoring the warning by her friend.

Y/N nods. "Yes, but only a week. Later I need to come back to Barcelona."

Frido pouted. "No! You will stay with me until I come back to Barcelona." She stubbornly said, frowning.

"They are ignoring me." They heard how Pernille commented to someone. Y/N bits a laugh when she sees how Frido groans softly.

Y/N, still with her hands on her face, bring it towards her and give her a long kiss. "Definitely later we will search our first child." Frido comments, laughing hard for Y/N's reaction.

[mrsurahara]

𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗘 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘┊𝗟. 𝗔𝗟𝗩𝗘𝗭

ఌ︎. p. Luke Alvez x f!reader // g. smut

ఌ︎. cw. SMUT [18+ MDNI, unprotected p in v, creampie, fingering (f receiving), squirting, mating press], take a shot every time you see “princesa”, cocky Luke Alvez, reader talking shit on the game— let me know if i missed anything!

ఌ︎. wc. 1.6k

𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

You and Luke were laying in your bed. You were in between his legs resting against his warm, shirtless chest in nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of his boxers. You always told him that wearing his clothes helped you feel close to him even when he was miles away on a case.

You had your headset on and a PS5 controller in your hands yelling at the TV. You’d been playing Call of Duty: Warzone for the last three hours nonstop and Luke was having trouble keeping up. All he knew was that your team won every game and you talked a lot of trash. He’s contemplating pouring body wash into your mouth.

Unbeknownst to you, Luke was growing painfully hard. You constantly grinding on his dick, even though it wasn’t on purpose, was making it very challenging to not just flip you over and fuck you right there.

Then he got an idea.

Moving your bent legs to the outside of his, he began running his large hands up and down your thighs. Knowing he loves touching you, you decided against questioning it and continued to play the game. When you didn’t respond to him, he ran the backs of his knuckles over your pussy causing you to buck your hips. A knowing smirk graced his beautiful face because he knew he had you.

He lifted one side of the headset and whispered in your ear, “Cariño, I wanna play,” his breath fanned over your ear sending a shiver down your spine.

You lifted the mic from your mouth before speaking, “After this game baby, I promise,” you said, your voice breathy.

He decided to torture you a little bit. He put the mic back in its place and began to suck on the sweet spot just above your collarbone. You almost moaned, but pressed your tongue against the roof of your mouth to suppress it. You took a deep breath to calm your arousal but ultimately failed when he began to nip and suck at the skin on both sides of your neck leaving purplish-red love bites in his wake.

“Good game ya’, gotta go! Bye!” you rushed, turning off the game and throwing both the controller and headset onto the black beanbag in the corner of your room. Luke held your hips down when you tried to turn and face him. “Let me go, I want a kiss,” you whined, eliciting a deep chuckle from your boyfriend.

“Not yet princesa,” he ran his thumbs under the band of the boxers you wore. You were so thick you could actually fit them and it never failed to make all the blood rush to his dick. “Take these off,” he instructed. You lifted your hips and slid the underwear off. “I bet if I touched your pussy my fingers would be soaked, hm?” he said into your ear.

“Well you wouldn’t be wrong,” you shrugged, receiving a smack to your bare cunt making you buck your hips again.

“You’re in no position to be a smartass,” he growled. His hands made their way to your smooth inner thighs and touched everywhere but your needy cunt.

“Luke, please,” you breathed out and you could practically hear the grin on his face.

“Please what, princesa? Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to touch me,” you whined from the lack of contact where you needed it the most.

“Touch you where? Show me,” he said. You grabbed his wrist and brought his hand to your needy pussy. The subtle contact made your eyes flutter shut. His thick fingers ran through your soaked slit. “You’re so wet, Cariño,” he praised as he kissed your neck. “You gonna be good and take my fingers?” he asked.

“Y-yes, sir,” you stumbled over your words. Soon enough one of Luke’s thick digits plunged into your weeping hole, drawing out a wanton moan from you.

“Mhm, let me hear you, baby,” he said against your neck. Luke added another finger then another and curled them inside of you, hitting your G-spot with every movement. You tried to close your legs, but Luke used his own to keep them spread. He brought his other hand around and began to circle your throbbing clit, increasing your pleasure.

Sweet moans and whimpers escaped your lips as the love of your life finger fucked you. You began to feel the heat in your abdomen grow more and more. “Luke I’m gonna cum!” you whimpered through your moans.

“Cum for me princesa— cum all over my fuckin’ hands,” he said, speeding up his movements. His words were that last nudge you needed before you fell off the cliff into a sea of pure bliss. You shouted his name and your fingernails dug into the meat of his thighs, leaving deep crescent indents in his tanned skin. As Luke continued to fuck you through your orgasm, an unfamiliar sensation shot through your abdomen. A burst of liquid shot out of you, wetting Luke’s hands and the bed. Your face burned with embarrassment and you tried to run away from the fingers still massaging your swollen cunt.

Luke was even more turned on than before.

He hummed in satisfaction and petted your clit a few times. “Turn around,” he instructed while untangling your legs. You straddled him, hovering over him so as not to put any additional pressure on your overstimulated pussy. Having none of that, Luke pulled you flush to the painful erection in his pants. You whimpered, tears brimming your eyes, and hid your face in his neck. Bringing a hand to your throat, he gave you a sloppy kiss. He smacked your bare ass and you moaned at the sting. “Why didn’t you tell me you could do that?” he smiled.

“I didn’t even know I could,” you admitted. He leaned in to kiss you again. “Mi amor’s a squirter,” he grinned against your lips. Then it hit him… he was the first man to ever make you squirt. As if he needed another ego boost. “I’m the first and only man who’s ever gonna make you squirt,” he growled as his grip on the sides of your throat tightened.

“Yes, you are,” you leaned in and placed another loving kiss on his lips. As you continued to kiss, Luke lifted his hips and removed his sweatpants and boxers.

“You’re still wearing too many clothes,” he pulled his shirt from over your head and threw it somewhere on the floor. “Much better,” he grinned in satisfaction as he kissed you again. You raised your hips, taking hold of the base of his dick and lining it up with your entrance. Looking into his eyes, you sank down until the tip rested inside of you. Your  eyes fluttered shut at the stretch and you rested your forehead on his.

“You got it princesa,” he praised. His large hands found your hips and helped you move. You sank further and further down until you were flush with his pelvis. “There you go.” 

You moaned as you rolled your hips. Clutching at the curls at the back of his head, you attacked his neck. Lips, teeth, and tongue left reddened skin that was sure to become darker in their wake. You kissed a trail from his collarbone to his lips.

Luke kissed you back with equal fervor, panting at the feeling of your velvety walls squeezing his cock. His hands that were on your hips migrate to the globes of your ass. His fingers grip the muscle as he moves your hips faster.

“Baby, you feel so fuckin’ good,” you moaned against his lips.

“Mm, I know cariño,” he cracked a cocky smile, “Gonna cum in this pretty pussy.”

“Please, please!” you begged.

Flipping you onto your back, Luke pushed your knees to your chest, letting your calves rest on his shoulders. He pulled out leaving the fat tip of his cock in and plunged back into your heat. He repeated the motion, your breath catching in your throat. You bit your lip to stop yourself from screaming.

Putting all of his weight on one of his strong arms, he used his free hand to pull your lip free. “Didn’t I say I wanna hear you? Don’t start being hard headed now.” He spits on your clit, “Play with yourself for me, princesa.” You nodded, quickly obeying him. Your eyes screwed shut at the added sensation. Luke lightly slapped your face, “Uhn uhn, eyes on me.”

Through bleary eyes, you met Lukes’s pretty brown ones. The muscles in his neck, shoulders, and arms flexed with every thrust. That familiar heat below your navel began to spread, burning hotter and hotter the more you circled your swollen clit. Luke could feel you clenching around his cock, making him work harder to fuck you deeply.

“You gonna cum hermosa?” he grunted. Your pussy had him in a vice grip and he was so close.

“Yes! Yes, m’gonna cum, baby,” you were so close.

“Go ahead, make a fucking mess.”

You gushed at his words, squirting all over his abs, your movements over your clit never ceasing. With a few more strokes, Luke came with a grunt. His cock twitched as he filled you to the brim with his spend. Luke leaned down to kiss you. You hissed at the ache in your hips when he let your legs down into a more comfortable position. He kneaded the aching flesh without pulling out or breaking the kiss.

Now a tangled mess of limbs and sweet kisses, you swipe at the dewy skin on Luke’s forehead, admiring his handsome face.

“How about you draw us a bath while I change the bed?” he raised his eyebrows.

“Deal.”

[the-traveling-poet]

We hit 400 followers!! Love you guys T-T 🤎

As promised, a scenario in which Levi has to continually put up with reader’s bratty teasing until he just cant take it anymore-

(trying out some light smut here for the first time :3 key word light, don’t judge)

One thing Levi Ackerman never expected to enjoy was what he would commonly refer to as ‘mushy sappy shit’.

And yet here he was, shooting you a look across the room from where you both sat; his brows drawn up and his lower lip slightly pouted as he gave you what you adoringly called his ‘needy eyes’.

“Y/N?” He tried again, wondering for the nth time if this was what it would take you to come across the room to him, if he dared to speak your name so softly.

“ ‘Y/N’…what?” You’d teasingly chuckle in response. Oh, how you loved to tease him so, if only to watch the way his usual scowl turned into a grumpy pout. He’d rather die than have anyone else see an exchange such as this one, but when it was just the two of you, he’d let your bratty behavior slide in favor of the warmth you would inevitably provide him after you tired of your game.

So he sat patiently, even scooting his chair slightly towards an angle, as though to silently make his pleas for contact more feasible in your eyes.

And goddamnit, how it worked nearly every time. But today, you decided you’d rather have him ask a little nicer before giving in.

“How am I to know just what it is you want, if you won’t directly ask it?” You tried again, biting your lip to hold back a giggle bubbling in your throat. Levi scowled, casting his eyes downward.

If he had to play dirty to get his way, then so be it.

“Y/N, baby…come sit on my lap, please?” He rasped out, shooting you his most convincing look through inky bangs.

It was uncharacteristic, the way he was behaving. But even more so was your reactions; thighs squeezing a little tighter together on the sofa and a soft breath caught in your throat in place of the giggle that had since been smothered out.

Feeling your face tingle with what you could only assume was an inevitable blush, you attempted to clear your throat.

“Sit…sit on your l-lap?” You nearly choked getting the words out of your suddenly dry mouth. In response he only loosed a tired breath before shoving back his chair from his desk to take a stand.

“Fine, have it your way.” He mumbled, stalking across the room towards you. As he approached, you subconsciously scooted back on the couch’s plush seat and held your breath.

“You’ve had your fun; an hour’s worth, as I recall. And I’ve had to sit there and just endure it. Do you know what that does to me?” He snorted a barley there chuckle, looking deeply into your eyes as he leaned against the couch towards your face.

“All I wanted was you to sit with me. Maybe get a kiss, if I were lucky. But I think enough is enough; don’t you, darling?” His tone dropped an octave, husky tone shaking you to the core.

“I-“

“No, sweetheart. You can be quiet now. You’ve won, after all. But…I’ll be taking the prize this time.”

His breathe tickled your neck, nudging your chin to the side with his forehead to allow him further access to the sensitive skin there. Your hands instinctively searched for his, but didn’t make the grasp in time before his slender fingers were already making their way up either side of your thighs towards the loosely tied string keeping your lounge pants up at the waist.

“Levi-“ You gasped out, finding your voice was all but gone.

He groaned softly, lips sucking tenderly at your pulse point.

“Hush, love,” He whispered against your throat, the need in his tone unmistakable.

“Just relax…relax for me.”

Loosening the cravat around his neck, he looses a shaky sigh as his breaths drew in shakier and his lips eagerly made the short journey from your neck towards your jaw, only stopping to worship it for a moment before continuing on.

Oh, how had the roles of your long played game suddenly turned on you. Now it was him, teasing you with barley there kisses along your cheeks, kissing antagonistically close to your lips but never touching. Meanwhile, you couldn’t help your thighs but to squirm against the feather light touches from the pads of his fingers. Before you knew it, the string had come undone from your waistline and fell across your thighs, shortly followed by the thin material of your lounge pant’s waistband.

A broken, shuddery gasp slipped past your lips unbidden, the moment those same tantalizing fingers ghosted over the even thinner material of your briefs, making your hips flinch against the pressure.

You were only briefly distracted by the dry chuckle resonating from Levi’s parted lips now hovering over your own, drawing your attention to the way he panted above your figure with barely contained desire.

“You’ve teased me for weeks. Now it’s my turn darling, so sit back and take it.”

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Taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe

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[doki-doki-imagines]

Just read the idea of shower sex with Michael Kaiser and this idea popped up.

Simple smut with feelings, reader has a vagina. I'm no good with smut so have pity of me and my poor writing skills

You didn’t want to give in, but damn Michael knows his way with words. A “darling” his right hand tracing a heart on your hips, a sugar-coated “I promise I won’t do anything, I’m too tired liebling” a tired sigh; all fake, traps tactically set up make you fall for them.

When you finally look up, you just see blue eyes so deep you could dive into them and a tired smile that transpires love, so it wasn’t all your fault if you fell for them; if Michael isn’t so lovestruck for you for sure you wouldn’t have fallen for any of his traps.

But you did, that’s why you find yourself with your back pushed on the cold tiles of Michael’s shower, your hands tugging desperately his hair, Michael’s body impossibly close to yours, his hands gripping hard your face not leaving the both of you any space to breathe and his tongue dancing with yours, wet noises dulled by the rushing hot water.

Michael’s hands began exploring, now tweaking and pulling your nipples, while you can only gasp at the sudden roughness “Too tired my ass” you think annoyed, “hypocrite” it’s another word it comes to your mind but this time for yourself, because no way you’re going to stop his ministration.

A harsh bite takes you to planet Earth again, you didn’t notice how Michael’s lips migrated southward, littering kisses down your jawline towards your neck, ‘till he bit you, pulling at your skin the minimum to know he’s gonna leave a nasty mark to hide the next morning; no way he is gonna regret it when his action pulled out such delicious sigh escape your lips.

Even if the tiles of his shower are so cold, you feel warm all over, even more with his mouth latching onto one of your nipples and fingers caressing your outer lips, with a delicacy you can’t find in the thumb that is now circling your clit or in his greedy mouth. Finally Michael fingers you, his ring and forefinger working wonders, curling and hitting just that right spot that makes you see stars.

“M-Michael” You manage to gasp out “I-I’m—” but a moan you can’t keep interrupt your sentence. Meanwhile, Michael’s eyes are sparkling, the sparkle you usually see when he knows he won and can’t wait to tease his prey endlessly “What? Can’t hear you well” He innocently replied, peering towards you with a Cheshire grin.

Michael deserved a kick, you didn’t even want to find yourself in this situation, it’s all his fault and he must finish what he started. “I need more” You struggled to say, his fingers never losing their rhythm “How exactly?” Michael crooned, the depth of his voice telling you he wasn’t as unaffected as he wants to look like

“Michael, I’m close—” so he stops and lifts himself up, he loves the face you make when he doesn’t let you finish; the spite and the need that swim in your eyes only spur him on.

He gives his member a few pumps, then he picks you up, your legs instinctually wrapping around his narrow waist.

You welp, no way this will end up well, you can play the scene in your head perfectly, he slips, you knock your head against the floor, you cry and whimper, fuck this is going to end so badly. Thank God there is Michael ready to wake up from the nightmare, the pinch on your ass more as a warning than a pleasurable one.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’ll finally stop thinking with that shit brain of yours”

“As always you are all talk and no action, Michael” Your legs tightened around Michael’s waist, your fingers gripping, almost scratching his biceps, one hand tracing the blue roses you love so much while he slowly sheats himself into you.

You know you hit a weak spot earlier when Michael doesn’t even stop to ask if you are comfortable, his pace is relentless from the start, his hips cushioned by yours make a sinful sound, the wetness making your skin shine and your watery eyes are a delicious sight for the blonde eyes, he just wants to eat you up.

And that’s what he does, his mouth locked with yours, tongue finding yours in a ravenous dance, eating moan after moan, his hands gripping so hard on your legs that you are sure they are leaving indents, but you can’t complain much when you are doing the same on his muscular back, leaving your mark too on him.

Your hips start to thrust downward to meet his, you claw further with each thrust, the pleasure too intense to handle anymore.

“Michael—more please” He quickly obliged, not that far from the apex too.

“You acted all bitchy earlier-“ Michael lets out a groan “but you wanted to do this as much as me, mh?” He grips your ass now, painfully yet blissfully, just perfect.

“Maybe we are just made for each other”

It’s that tinge of sweetness in this animalistic act that makes you crumble, walls clenching impossibly tight on his cock and he follows you after a few thrusts.

Your chests heaved, both dirtier than when you started the shower, the warm water, now way too warm, washing away your sweat. Michael put you down, both your breaths heavy, your lips still centimeters from each other, both looking at each other like pulling off would have killed you both.

You finally lift your head, landing a kind and sweet kiss on the blue rose on his neck, your fave one, Michael leaves one on the crown of your head, a smile full of love on your lips.

Maybe you are really made for each other.

[marshmallow-rainbow139]

Things Anne Wayne has said since becoming Batmom - Part 2

"Don't come anywhere near me; you stink of Poison Ivy."

"I will give both of you a hundred bucks if you manage to hang out with each other without trying to kill each other."

"We have a perfect training area in the batcave. Why are you butchering my garden?"

"Should we create a secret handshake in case a clone ever appears?"

"Selina is coming! Hide my jewelry!"

"So when the bat signal pops up, you answer immediately, but when I text you to ask what you want for dinner, it takes you 3 to 5 business days to respond!"

"When I said you could bring in stray animals that we could temporarily foster, I didn't mean creatures from another dimension!"

"Alright, what's the deal between Hawkgirl and Green Lantern? Their tension is so thick that not even krypotanite can cut it!"

"So who's your work husband? Jim or Clark?"

"You already have multiple weapons; why do you need a flamethrower?"

"Honey, there's a space ship in our yard!"

"Put a jacket on; you're going to fight Mr. Freeze!"

"Why can't those big villains execute their world domination plans during the summer and not during the school year? I'm running out of excuses to give your teachers!"

"You survived the Joker. You can survive dodgeball."

"Can you ask Clark if we can use the fortitude of solitude? I can't handle this heat anymore!"

"I got so bored that I named the bats. Be careful with Sheila; she bites!"

"Use the stairs like a normal person! You don't need to use the grappling hooks all the time!"

"Did you know Harley broke up with the Joker and is now with Poison Ivy? Good for her!"

"Can I borrow a bat-pen?"

"Don't you dare use the bat voice on me! We're having a serious argument!"

"With the amount of Wayne buried in the backyard, I'm not surprised if this place is haunted."

"Oh, Alfred! I found one of your guns!"

"Can you guys hurry up? You promised to watch Grey's Anatomy with me before patrol!"

"Your ass looks fine today, Bruce. Sorry kids, I forgot the coms were on!"

"I'm sorry? Which of my sons did you take? The little one? Oh, God bless you! I hope you said goodbye to your loved ones!"

"I learn Arabic for two reasons: making Damian comfortable and cussing at Ra's Al Ghul."

"I wish I could gloat at Margie. Yeah, her son won the spelling bee, but mine saved the universe!"

"The Joker's laugh is more sincere than Margie's."

"Duke, I assure you, the t-rex is just a statue."

"Damian, is that your mother on the rooftop? I gave her my number to tell me when she was coming to visit."

"You have so many things on that utility belt but not chapstick for your wife?"

"Oh, thank you, sweetie, I mean Batman!"

"Do I need to speak the opposite of what I mean for Bizarro to understand me?"

"All of my sons are like orange cats. Not one single bit of common sense in their brains."

"I bet Lois doesn't feel anxious when her husband goes on a mission. His only weakness is glow in the dark rock!"

[fallingintoyourlilaceyes]

I guess I wouldn´t believe you (modern!Best friend!Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader)

synopsis: When you moved in with your best friend since childhood for college, you never would have thought the outcome of it.

warnings: kind of angsty, best friends to lovers, kissing, afab reader

word count: 2k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall, @urmomsgirlfriend1

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom/series or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

For as long as you could think, Jace had been your bestest of friends. You stuck together through every little (and not so little) problem life threw at the two of you. Every fight between him and his uncles, every fight between their families, your parents’ divorce and in the end his family moving away from King´s landing. The two of you never lost contact. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder after all. Though when the two of you finally see each other in person again, after years of strictly conversing over the phone, you get floored by how much fonder your heart could grow. That first hug in such a long time makes your heart swell and your whole body tingle with what you think at first is platonic happiness to see and be close to him again. You should soon be taught better.

It´s the first week of College and, even with only having moved in a week ago, the two of you were already as inseparable as you were in childhood. At first you had thought sharing a cute, little apartment seemed like a good idea. Well, if you knew how much you wanted to bite yourself in the ass at the mere sight of other girls hanging around for “study sessions” throughout the year, you would have moved into the dorms.

As the dumbass that you are when it comes to your own feelings, the realization that it was jealousy and your feelings for your best friend have been more than just platonic, hits you over the head when it is almost too late. Literally, in the form of your friend Baela.

The two of you sit in the campus café on lunch break, talking over coffee as you always do. When she breaks out "So when will you stop being a little bitch and ask my brother out?"

She had always been one to tell hard truths in a rather harsh tone, but that's why you loved her so much.

"Baela!" You whisper at her loudly. Looking at the tables around you to see if any of them have heard you with a scandalized expression.

"What? Just the facts... You've been whining my ear off about Jace fucking around for the past year now, too blind to see that you're so deep in love with him it's grossing everyone out." She sticks out her tongue at you.

"Okay, so maybe I am in love with him... That still doesn't change the fact that he is my best friend. And more importantly he's not interested in me. OUCH!!" One of your hands shoots up to soothe over the spot of your head that just had made painful contact with Baela's hand. “What was that for?”

“That´s because you keep being a little bitch about your feelings.” She just says matter of factly.

“Fuck, Bae. That really hurt.” You whine at her.

“Good. It was supposed to.” Baela claps her hands and then stands up. “I have to run, but I swear I will do it again if you whine about anything regarding Jace again that isn´t him telling you he doesn´t reciprocate your feelings. Which, fyi I can promise you, won´t happen.”

With that little piece of wisdom your friend grabs her bag and the coffee cup and leaves you to ponder her words. And you come to the conclusion that, as much, as you hate it, she is once again right. You had cried to her about her brother for the past year. Drunk, sober, high, with actual tears or like right now. Now you just felt sorry for her. If you were her, you wouldn´t want to hear that much about your siblings being crushed on. Opening the door to your shared apartment with a huff you hear laughter from Jace´s bedroom. Throwing your keys into the bowl near the door you piss off to your room. Thank the seven for noise cancelling headphones, you think and put on some music as loud as you can. Anything to not have to hear what is going on in the room across the hall. Laying down on the bed, you don´t even notice when you fall asleep. Neither do you know how long you have been gone, but it is dark outside when a gentle hand shakes your shoulder.

“Hey.” Jace´s quiet voice rings through to your half asleep mind. “I made dinner, if you want some.”

“Yeah, yeah. I´ll be out in a sec.” You wave your hand in the air and unsuccessfully fight of a big yawn.

“Alright.” Jace goes back to the kitchen to wait for you. “So, how was your day?”

“Good, I guess. Not as good as yours though, I´d bet.” The comment comes of more cutting than you had wanted it too, but luckily your best friend is also a part time golden retriever and so he pushes your tone off to your brain still not having caught up with waking up fully yet.

“Did you do anything fun today?” He asks taking a full spoon of food into his mouth.

“Not really. I met up with Baela at the café earlier. Talked for a while, nothing interesting though. Sorry for not saying hi earlier. I didn´t want to interrupt your… visitor.”

“You wouldn´t have needed to. Sarah is just a good friend.” He looks at you with such a warm, unsuspecting gaze that you feel really bad for how mad you get with jealousy.

“A friend, sure.” You shake your head with a bitter chuckle. Trying to shake Baela´s words and the swirling feelings out of it. To no avail. Pocking the food on your plate some more, the fork in your hand soon meets the plate with a loud clink.

“What do you mean with that?” Jace´s now puzzled brown eyes search for an answer in your ones, but you don´t give him a chance. Turning to leave for your room, before things turned truly ugly or you could admit to something you weren´t ready to admit to.

“Hey, wait! What did you mean just now?” You can hear Jace raise his arms in confusion, but ignore his plea for an answer once more.

Regarding him only with a clipped "Nothing, forget about it."

Slamming the door to your room it gets opened again only moments later. Gods, why couldn't he leave this alone.

"Why are you so angry all of a sudden? Did something happen? Do you want to talk about it?" He asks stepping close to you, but still keeps a safe distance as he sees your disgruntled face.

"Can't you just forget it?" You ask exasperatedly.

"No. We used to talk about everything. What happened to that? We barely even talk anymore even though we literally live in the same place." The brunet was getting worked up too now. Slightly raising his voice.

It wasn't something you had never heard before. Naturally in all the years of your friendship you had fights before. They just never felt so stupid and avoidable.

"Of course you would say that... How could we have talked, when the second the school year started, you busied yourself with Cregan Stark and literally seemingly every girl on this campus?” Your tone is sharp and accusing. Your breath fastens in your chest the more you raise your voice. Your heartbeat speeding up at an equal pace.

“Are you jealous of Cregan? You know you will always be my best friend, right? No one could ever replace you. Not even Cregan Stark.” His amused chuckle makes you think you really are going insane.

“How can someone be so smart and so stupid at the same time? I´m not fucking jealous of Cregan!” A hand rubs over your face, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Then what is it?” He questions and the words spill out of you before you can think about them.

“I´m jealous of the girls you are with.” You clasp a hand over your mouth as to not reveal more but the damage is done. Instantly a heavy silence lays itself over you.

"Why would you be jealous of them?" Jace finds his voice again first. Its uncertainty still cuts through the quiet like a knife.

"Because I don't want to be just your best friend anymore. I have for a while, but you were too busy with those girls to notice that the guy I´ve been having a crush on for the past year.” Your voice turns desperate. There had been so many better ways to reveal this, but of course it had to come out in an argument. You are pretty sure you have just the worst possible outcome to this situation possible.

You raise your hands in defeat. "You know what? Forget it. Let's just forget I said anything. It's been a long day and I don't want to argue about this.”

“No. I´m not gonna forget about this. You are my best friend, why didn´t you tell me about your feelings earlier?” Jace takes another step closer to you now. Almost close enough to touch if you were to stretch out your arm a little. But you don´t. If anything you keep as far away as possible from him. Your face burns and your breathing goes into overdrive from everything you are feeling right now.

“Because I know you don´t feel the same and I didn´t want to make it a whole thing like it has become now, that eventually ruins our friendship.” Gods, why couldn´t you just stop talking? Why couldn´t he just stop talking?

“How do you know that?” Another step towards you and Jace´s voice becomes quieter again. Having an almost intimate ring to it now.

“How do I know that? Come on Jacey… I´ve known you forever. I know what it looks like when you have feelings for someone.” You try not to make it sound too obvious, but you can´t help it. It just is.

“Oh yeah? And what does it look like when I have feelings for someone?” His question distracting you from the way he moves ever closer.

“It definitely doesn´t look like you are a second version to your uncle Aegon. That´s for sure…” You murmur lowly.

“And what if I told you that Sarah is actually just a friend and all the other girls were just a distraction because I thought the girl I really liked wasn´t into me?”

“I guess I wouldn´t believe you.”

What happens next is truly incomprehensible to you. Jace leans in to close the gap between your faces. The touch of his lips is feather light as they tenderly brush over yours. They are unexpectedly soft and have your stomach turning as butterflies take flight in your stomach. You had dreamt this moment a hundred times maybe more, but you never could have imagined how good it would truly feel to have Jace´s rough palms wander over your bare arms, up the back of your neck to keep you as close to him as possible. Eager to keep this moment going for as long as he can. After a solid minute or two you lay one of your hands to his chest. Feeling the soft fabric of his shirt as you gently push him away.

“Do you believe me now?” He asks. Equally as breathless as you are.

“I… I don´t- I don´t understand…” Your eyes search the warm, brown pools of his for an answer but you are still too perplexed to find any.

“It´s you. I have feelings for you too. I just never thought you would return them, so I- well, you know.” Jace sheepishly rubs his neck at the admission that leaves his lips. A gesture that you always have thought made him look incredibly cute.

“You do?” You whisper. Feeling stupid that you can´t say something more.

“I do.” Jace responds. He is still so close you can feel his hot breath fan over your face. A sensation that makes a shiver run up your spine.

This time it is you that moves in for a kiss. Grabbing his shirt tightly in your hands as you lock your lips in a frantic manner. When you feel his tongue press against your lower lip, silently asking for entrance, you gladly grant it. Pulling him to your bed with you as your lips enter in a slow and intimate dance.

“I love you so much.” You whisper into the kiss.

“I love you more. Gods, I waited so long for this.”

[a-local-idiots-shitpost]

Yuu is a Rabbit-Pomefiore&Ignihyde

Vil

there were so many things he would rather do then look after a Rabbitfied Yuu but it´s not like it can be changed

now he at least can make them look like the best version of themself, they don´t like it but if he didn´t get a choice on caring for them they won´t get a choice in what they are doing

at least when everything was done even they could see that they look better than usual, they still don´t look grateful though most people would kill to get a make-over from THE Vil Schoenheit but they also would happily roll in the mud so it shouldn´t surprise him

but they did allow him to brush and clean their fur at least so it is something

and they didn´t try to kill anybody, he knows the bar is low for them but it´s not like they would ever change their ways

Rook

he was elated when he was asked to look after the Trickster though they seemed less happy, it was quiet difficult to even pry them out Deuce´s grasp and as soon as he got them they tried to run away

but it was a truly entertaining chase he has to admit and no matter how hard they tried they could never hide from him forever, their look of terror was rather amusing too

but he likes to think that their time together wasn´t always terrifying to them, he did teach them how to properly hunt people

they were such a fast learner to he was so proud of them he felt like he was about to cry, he might have even cried a bit and this would explain the weird look they gave him

he did not know Rabbits could look like that but they always find a way to even surprise him

Epel

he was confident because he knows how animals work but he forgot that that is still Yuu and not a random Rabbit he found and is looking after

he can´t even put Yuu into a cage either they break out or they´ll struggle as much as they can until he gives up or he drops them

and if he drops them he´ll never catch them again, not only are they fast but they also are good at hiding

as soon as they find any place they can squish themself into they won´t leave until somebody drags them out

or somebody lures them out with food but even when they are really hungry it´s tricky, by the slightest noise they´ll run back into their hiding place

Epel can use them to get out of Vil´s lessons though, if he promises Yuu an apple they´ll happily make a mess or run away so he´ll have to get them and then both of them will just hide from Vil

Idia

if it wasn´t actually Yuu he could have been persuaded into looking after it but no matter how adorable and fluffy looking Yuu is it is still Yuu and Idia knows they have it out for him

he saw them try to smoother him in his sleep and if they were even a bit heavier they might have even succeeded

but they didn´t and in his panicked he threw them at a wall if it was an actual animal he would have been worried that it got hurt but it´s Yuu and all it did was make Yuu angry and try to maul him

he curses his panic reaction and locked Yuu in his room, he hopes it´s enough to stop them and if he has to he´ll arrange an escape helicopter for his and Ortho, maybe just him he knows they won´t hurt Ortho and he might be able to calm them

Ortho

Idia was actually supposed to look after them but Yuu tried to kill him one to many times and Idia thought Ortho would be better suited for the task

I mean they wouldn´t kill him so he isn´t wrong, Ortho doesn´t even know why he was so scared of Yuu because all they did was following him around and scare away mean students

they were the perfect friend in his opinion :)

they even allowed him to pet them, he nearly got them to be nice to Idia too but he did ruin it

Ortho did tell him to not make fun of them and he couldn´t hold himself back long enough

but at least the shame of getting his ass beaten will go away soon enough Ortho just hopes the bite marks won´t scare over...

[moonschildsworld]

Omg I’d love a Nagi POV for Regrets 🥹 Only if you’d love to do it though!

author note: I'm sorry, it look so long T^T but at last, here it is! i hope it doesn't disappoint :<

☆ p.s: i got another great plot idea but I'm worried I can't execute it properly but i'll try my best. hint: it's about itoshi brothers wink wink.

♡ for new readers, before you read this, make sure you read the main part!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

We lost. I lost? Me?

I could feel my hot blood running through my vines as I collapsed, my hand fisting the grass my fingers dig into the dirt trying to hold onto something to keep my sanity from slipping away, as the whistle screech out signaling the game was over in our opponents’ victory, ending it with a close call of 3-4. What’s more regrettable and got me feeling like shit is that I was going to propose to her on the interview I was suppose to go on after I win this match. I could finally gather up my courage to do troublesome thing like that, just for her.

I was suppose to win the match, coach said that team was the easiest target, I almost got another goal in and we’d get to do penalty kicks and we’d smash them up then. So what went wrong?

My forehead was facing downward to the grass field as tears surge out of my eyes in frustration. Seriously, what the fuck went wrong? How did I lose? I could taste the bitter metal flavor as my bottom lip was bleeding from my front teeth sinking on it too hard.

I was so stuck on the idea that I was the best, I was unbeatable, the prodigy, the most promising player of the next generation of world class player. Nothing could’ve gone in my way. Nothing should’ve gone wrong when I’m on the field.

“come on man, coach said to gather everyone up” I got snapped out of my hellish thought reo’s voice rings into my ears. I took one deep breathe as my eyes suckle back up the tears. I got on my feet in slow motion and walks to the meeting in the locker room.

As expected, coach was furious. Silence fell as I walk into the room along with Reo when coach was just yelling. The silence and stares were suffocating, it was as the gazes were yelling, ‘it’s your fault’ ‘you were supposed to be the one who got us through dilemmas’ ‘the prodigy lost his touch?’

I couldn’t do anything but bite the inside of my mouth and get seated. After a few more minutes of silence, the coach clears his throat, “what’s up with you, nagi?” my stomach drops upon hearing the question , what’s up with me?, nothing is ever wrong with me so how am I suppose to answer this.

Another suffocating silence as no response were given from me as I kept staring at the tiles floor, the coach lets out a big disappointing sigh, he paces back and forth for a while in the room before he announces, “cancel any prior engagement or schedule, we’re staying here for a month for special training” with that, he storms out of the locker room shaking his head furiously.

Murmurs of complaints, groan and sighs were pour out as soon as the coach steps out, “only if someone had done their job properly” a benched player spoke out loudly in spite. “I know right, that’s why you shouldn’t have love to interfere with career” another spiteful comment follows. “what’s your career? Warming up the bench?” Reo hisses back to them as I kept my mouth shut, my eyes still glued on floor.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The special training and my pride getting smashed was the least of my worries right now but I couldn’t bring myself to open her message, I wanted to text her, “I won” to her good luck text, how can I face her now? My hand clenches my phone hardly as my head hangs down.

I know she wouldn’t eat me alive, nor tear my down just for one lost, and I don’t know why my feelings are this stubborn to run away from her. I know she would try her best to attempt to comfort me. So why do I want to run away?

I spent hours staring blankly at the phone before I made up my mind to shut the phone off and store it in the cabinet beside my hotel’s bed. I just need a day.

A day turn into days, days turn into a month. The anxiety bubbling up inside me never left and I just want to pierce myself and take it out, whatever is making me feel stuffy.

Training was hell, the constant backhanded comments and spiteful backlashes behind his back, from online and my teammates were really getting to me.

Coach pushing me more than he ever does, the gazes that were once admiring and praising me now turn into something more like a civilian camera that are waiting for me to trip again so they can all jump me.

She would never done that or let anybody do this to me.

Time passes quickly with the training that lasts almost the whole day with 8 hours to spare for mandatory personal business, eating and sleeping. It’s finally time to go back to Japan to continue the usual training and another match coming up in 2 months, I need to be on my best behavior so they won’t catch me tripping.

I am now alone again with my thoughts in the hotel room, I reach out for the phone in the cabinet for the first time in a month.

She must’ve been worried right?

I turn the phone back on, my heart thumping in anticipation for what she has to say.

..Nothing..? No new messages since that day..?

I could feel something snapped as the overwhelmed emotions that has been piling up over the past month came spilling out, I throw the phone across the room as my breathe grows heavier and quicker.

Does she not care about me? What’s the point of this relationship huh? When I’m away training my ass off, getting attacked verbally everyday, she hasn’t checked up on me once? Not mentioning, I haven’t answered her for a month, a month!

I sat down with my arms laying on my spreaded legs, my head hung down low. No, I directed my anger at her. She probably just didn’t want to get in way of my work here. I know that so, why..?

I raise my head up as my eyes turn blank and cold, no emotions found as my heart feels heavy out of the sudden, a voice suddenly flashes into my ears, “that’s why you shouldn’t have love to interfere with your career” it was the fleeting comment one of my teammate made.

That’s right.. She’s not necessary, is she? My mind is already heavy from soccer, why bother carrying any more unnecessary weight..? Come to think of it, she would understand. She probably can live, with her career and things, it shouldn’t be a hindrance to her, right..?

Yeah, she’d understand me. Y/n always does.

That’s how I selfishly broke up with her for my own career under a façade that I think she’d understand when I know she would break down even if she understands.

I broke up with her with a promise to never to lose again in any match, neither friendly—nor a serious match.

The result came to fruition as I have a come back in my career in the next match and I continue to do great the match after and the match after that. I buried myself in my career because that’s all I knew to do, it’s what I throw away everything for and I had a promise to keep, 3 years of full success, no loss.

It’s going great again, people that were waiting for my downfall click their tongue and turn away in defeat. People are again looking at me with praises and admiration. I had move up to join a more prestigious club and many others are offering million to get me, Isn’t this what I wanted? It is.

Strangely, now that I don’t feel heavy anymore, there’s a great amount of void in me. Of course, I have a slight idea of what is it but I choose to live in denial. She has been well, I keep watch on her, secretly of course I know much at least that she wouldn’t want to see me after all of that, at random times and she’s still the same, calm and composed. Going to work and going out with her friends once in a while. I do notice smiles are rare to come by for her. But she’ll get over it right? She’s y/n after all. That’s what I selfishly convince myself so I could look away, for my own benefit.I chose it myself so it’s a given that I chose to live with the void.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

That is until, today after 3 whole years, on a coincidence that I stepped out to get drinks, my eyes spot a familiar build standing outside of the stadium I was suppose to have a friendly match at today. I felt like the world had stopped moving as my eyes laid on her figure.

Before I knew it, my feet brought me to stand in front of her, without permission my voice calls out to her. She looks up in a slightly shocked expression but soon calms down. That’s it? Seeing me after all of this time. I could feel something poking at my heart.

I knew I shouldn’t be acting so familiar to her after all of that but my heart, my mind, they crave her more than I thought. She’s still as calm as ever, why am I the only one whose heart is thumping like some high school boy meeting his crush? This is so unfair. I asked her what she was doing here, I pray to gods that existed in all direction hoping for a slight chance that she’d say ‘I came to see you’

Our conversation was cut short by one of the guy in the opposition team I’m up against today, my heart drops seeing him acting so familiar with y/n, my y/n.

I didn’t know what my expression is shown on my face as I watch them. So she found someone after all..? They act like I wasn’t standing there in front of them, I just want to yell at y/n to keep her attention on me, what rights do I have..?

I bite the inside of my mouth as I try to keep myself in check. y/n finally turned her attention back to me, like a puppy, that much attention had me wagging my tail at her if I had one. That unsettling feeling attack again as she introduced the muscle blonde head as her boyfriend.

I just want to rip my body and scoop out the intestine that keeps developing that feeling. “are you playing against my boyfriend today?” I know I am probably just imagining it but it seems like she emphasized my boyfriend to spite me. “…yeah” was all I managed to get out of my mouth. I soon come to realized that it made things awkward, fuck I didn’t want it to be this way with y/n, after all these years, after finally she can meet me eye to eye again.

The blonde muscle man decided to steal her away again, in excuse of guiding her to her seat. I could feel my heart tightened at how she smiles at him, how she talks, how she jokes, the way she gazes at him. Those all used to be mine, It should’ve been forever mine.

He grabbed her hands and guide her away. No, she can’t go just like this, I need to come up with something— “do you think I’ll do well today?” the question spills out of my mouth before I can think about it thoroughly and I wanted to dig myself into a hole. Seriously man? In front of her boyfriend?

Though to be frank, I couldn’t care much because she turned to me again and flash one of her smile at me, “you always do well, don’t doubt yourself” I could feel myself choking up, that’s what she always used to say but it’s not the same anymore, where’s the loving tone she always uses?!

Before I could say anything more, the blonde almost dragged her away. I could only watch their backs as they disappear among the crowds.

There it is again, the same unsettling feeling but this time, I had nothing to throw away anymore, I have nothing..

My head was hazy, eyes are blurry. It feels like all of senses had been lost. The match starts and ended before I can realized. I had only realized when the same gruel some screeching sound of whistle signaling the match had ended,,, in the opponent’s victory.

It felt like déjà vu, it felt like that day. That day I felt like I had lost everything but no, I had my everything back then. I dropped to my knees as tears spill out of my eyes, the tears blocking my visions as some teammates came forward surrounded me and frantically comfort me and ask me what's wrong.

My eyes were stuck on the two of them as she runs from the sideline and he picks up her and spin her mid-air. I see it, her genuine smile, she’s happy, she’s genuinely at peace. And he was the one who makes it possible..

There’s no me in the picture anymore, I am not involved in her life anymore. It makes sense now, she wasn’t unnecessary. She never was, what she was is an essential, I couldn’t figure that out. I was blinded by guilt, pride & anger.

This unsettling feeling here and back then, it’s regret. Back then, I regret not being able to win the match for her and regret not being able to continue with my plan to propose to her on national TV. Right now, I regret now knowing and understanding the feeling of ‘regret’ until it’s now too late to know.

But one thing that I don’t regret is that, if one of us can be happy, I always had prayed that it would be you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

[miasmaghoul]

putting thoughts of rain/dew trans dew fingering into your brain

like i dont think about this ENOUGH ALREADY

(also i put Dew in a skirt i hope thats cool)

"Keep your mouth shut," Dew snaps, arms crossed and face flushed.

Rain's trying to hold it together, he really is, but -

"How the fuck -" he breaks into tight giggles while Dew stares daggers at him from across the common room. "Dew, what -"

"I lost a fuckin' bet," he grumbles, staring at the floor. "That's what." Rain bites his lips shut to keep from grinning, but it's a losing battle.

Dew stands before him in the usual black t-shirt and heavy boots, but his standard black jeans have been replaced by a short, flouncy, baby pink skirt. It doesn't even reach mid-thigh, soft fabric resting against softer skin.

"That's a good look for you," Rain teases, dabbing moisture from the corners of his eyes. Dew scowls at him, stalking over to hide behind the kitchen island. Rain tilts his head, watching the rather distracting way the fabric swirls around Dew's skinny thighs.

"Fuck off," he gripes, stretching his arms out and resting his forehead on the stone countertop. "This is humiliating."

"What bet did you lose, anyway?" Rain sets his book aside and unfolds himself from his chair, striding over to the kitchenette. He leans on it with both elbows, chin resting on his fists. Dew huffs out a defeated sigh.

"Does it matter?"

"No," Rain chirps, "tell me anyway."

"Asshole," Dew mutters. After a minute he heaves a very dramatic sigh, raising his head just enough to glare across the island. "I bet Swiss -"

"Ah, say no more," Rain cuts in with a smirk. Dew raises an eyebrow at him. "Dew, you have never won a single bet against Swiss the whole time he's been topside." Dewdrop drops his head back onto the counter with a thud.

"I know," he complains, "I swear that fucker cheats, there's no way he's good at everything I give him."

"Or maybe you just enjoy losing," Rain says with a shrug, "why else would you keep trying?" He stands and rounds the end of the island while Dew gives a discontented grunt. "If it helps, it really does suit you."

"Fuck off," Dew spits again, still face first against the counter while Rain moves to stand behind him.

"No, I mean it," he insists, taking in the way the skirt hangs over Dew's slim hips. The way it hugs the slight curve of his ass and sits high on the creamy thighs he so loves to live between. Rain reaches out to finger the fabric, imagining how easy it would be to flip up and get Dewdrop all exposed for his viewing pleasure. "Actually, I think this is an improvement. I think you were made to be in cute little skirts like this."

It's meant to be a joke, at least mostly, but the very distinct way Dew's shoulders tighten is a dead giveaway as to how he's feeling. Rain feels a cruel little smile curl at the corners of his lips.

"You agree, don't you?" He drops the fabric, callused fingertips drifting featherlight just under the hem of the garment instead. Goosebumps raise in the wake of his touch, and despite the way Dew shakes his head Rain can feel the truth. "Don't lie to me, sweetheart, I can tell you're loving this."

"I promise you I'm not," Dew mutters, tensing further at Rain's words. But he makes no effort to move, to get away, and that's all Rain needs to prod further.

"Sure you are," he murmurs, pressing himself against the little ghoul and resting both hands on his hips. "You like looking all sweet and pretty, don't you?" Rain leans over his back as Dew lets out a small sound of protest. "I can smell it on you." Dew whimpers, soft but obvious, as Rain licks the shell of his ear.

"Shut up, would you?" There's no venom in the words, despite their tight delivery. Rain grinds against him and Dew lets out a quiet groan at the feeling.

"Why? I like it too, can't you tell?" He's only half-hard, but the thin fabric of the skirt offers little in the way of a barrier. "Don't you want me to get underneath it?" Rain skates him fingers beneath the hem again, higher this time. "Get my head between those thighs and make them shake?" Rain's fingers drift higher still. "Flip it up while you're bent over and -"

Rain pauses, listening to the way Dewdrop's breathing has picked up as his fingers trail over the milky skin of his inner thighs. It's damp already, and Rain comes to a realization that has him leaking into his boxers.

"Dew, are you not wearing underwear?" He breathes it into the little ghoul's ear, and Dew makes the most beautifully pained sound as he shakes his head.

"Part of the bet," he sighs, pressing back against Rain's hips. His hands are balled into tight fists, hair hiding his face. Rain growls low in his throat.

"How long do you have to be like this?" Rain drags a finger through slick folds and Dew lets out a low groan, shivering at the teasing touch.

"A fuckin' week," he whispers, gasping when a wet finger circles his rapidly stiffening clit. Rain huffs out a pleased chuckle.

"Good," he nips at the smaller ghoul's ear, relishing the broken moan Dew lets out when he sinks two fingers into his tight heat, "then I can take my time with you."

Rain stands, pushing away just enough to see the way his hand disappears beneath the skirt. The ruffles at the hem sway as he pumps in and out, fabric clinging to Rain's long sleeve. It's entrancing, and when he crooks those fingers the sound Dew makes is positively feminine.

"It you can be a good girl and cum on my fingers, maybe I'll let you ride me later." Dew clenches tighter around him, moaning as he shoves himself back against Rain's hand. "You can even keep the skirt on while you do."

Dew shouts into the countertop as his legs start to shake.

"Maybe I'll invite Swiss too," Rain croons, "let him see what a pretty little princess you can be."

Dew sounds like he could cry.

Rain plans to make him.

[gingkos-eldritch-secret]

Fanfiction commentary and recommendations: Lex Luthor´s ascend from supervillainy to fatherhood Part IV (chapters 16 to 20)

The Original story can be found here.

The previous parts of the commentaries can be found here:

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

So, the classic silly rambling before the actual commentary part is surprisingly part that´s the hardest to do. Go figure.

Well. At least aside from formatting. I may have found out how to make links into hyperlinks, but I still have a problem with getting the HTML code to do what I want and just center the line break. And I´d also love to do blocktext, so that there are the most even edges of text possible on both sides, but I know the second one just WON´T work because different devices and different formattings so it would just look awful. I could still center. But my brain hates HTML code rn. Why is HTML so much easier on AO3?

But to build anticipation: I know that the next few chapters will be kind of wild. Or. not really 'kind of' but actually a bit wild. As in: The Joker´s involved. I mean, with all of the foreshadowing in the past few chapters I was really not surprised, but damn, do I hate the man.

With the knowledge of not being with that knowledge: back to the regularly scheduled program.

○○○••○○•••○○••○○○

So? Which topic do you think chapter 16 starts with? Ding ding ding! You´re right! Lazarus Pits! Or rather: the price some people have to pay for the boon. In Jason´s case? His sanity.

And also the helpless feeling of just. Not knowing. Not knowing why or how he was the only one that suffered such harsh side effects when the rest of the family got away more or less scot-free.

I … can´t imagine how hard it must be to know all the darkness that dwells in oneself can just … erupt like some kind of volcano. Even worse if you wake up after such an eruption and just. Don´t remember. It´s frightening. And that Jason has endured that for years now? Oooof. He needs more hugs from his friends and family ASAP. Especially because he seems to feel like such a burden …

But how did we get to such deep introspection from him? Because he finally feels as if he´s getting back from the pits. You remember what I said about Jason feeling a lurch in his chest?

Yeah. It´s still happening, again and again and it´s kind of crawling up his throat.

And as I can´t imagine that feeling all too pleasant - he just kind of. Slowly falls onto the floor. Or. He would have, if Dick hadn´t caught him, good older brother that he is.

It doesn´t help that Danny collapses as well.

And then he throws up something green and goopy and it starts to move towards Danny and ugh. It sounds so digusting and horrifying I kinda had to take a moment to get a drink because god damn, that was not a comfortable experience to read about and any time I reread this for corrections I feel this imagine return to my mind.

Thank god for Alfred saving the day, because as the only one with his faculties intact he just puts a bowl over this … thing. And it helps! Whoooooo!

But now we have an exhausted Jason, a collapsed Danny and a very worried family. And not just any worried family, but a worried batfamily. Good god that can´t end well, can it?

Because of course, after the discussion about his health problems the family gets even more worried when his heartbeat slows further. And since he´s not awake, he can´t even veto going to a hospital. Thank god for Duke though, because he got them to go to Dr Thom(p?)kins instead.

And of course they´re suspicious now. Probably more of Lex than Danny, but still.

Tim, bless his soul, wants to tell Lex what just happened because any parent should know what happened to their child. Especially since there could be allergies or traumata involved.

But no, bruce just wants to get him to a clinic. It will come back to bite him in the ass - that I can promise.

And where does it come back to bite him in the ass? Right at the clinic. Jason may be fine, but Danny? In the eyes of the doc? Fuck no, he´s not. I mean, he never is, but they don´t know that, do they?

And because of all the radioactivity and the health problems and because he´s a sus mf - what does Bruce do? He wants a blood sample.

Now. We know how Danny is about his blood. It´s a dangerous thing. Thank god for Leslie and her ethics though. Because I don´t think neither Danny nor Lex would forgive him for that breach of trust and bodily autonomy.

Bruce and Damian are both deeply suspicious because the matter seems quite close to Lazarus pits and fear that Lex may be experimenting on him … and also Damian kinda lowkey hates Danny because he has hurt his family twice already, however unintentional and who says he won´t hurt even more of them?

And after that whole ordeal? Danny just decided to take his legs into his hands and get the hell out of dodge.

Can´t blame him tbh. Really, really can´t blame him.

So where does the baby boi end up? At a random roof in Gotham where Harley finds him. Predictably she thinks he maybe wants to jump though our Boy quickly reassures her that that´s not the case.

Doesn´t change the fact that he´s still spooked though. Mainly because he thinks he did something wrong and now the Waynes won´t want him as a friend anymore, because why would they? He hurt them and then they even had to get him to a clinic and Harley, please do something about this, it´s just sad to read :')

And now Danny doesn´t even wanna call Lex, because of the situation because he fear he´ll never be allowed to go anywhere again because he was 'right' and just. Danny I understand your fear, but comunication please.

Of course he deflects by asking if the Joker was around, which somehow leads to Harley taking him to her and Ivy´s place? Don´t ask me how it happened, the only I way I can condense it is if I say: they ranted.

This leads to this part of the conversation:

“Really? Then why did… you know,” he said, looking her up and down. “I know it couldn’t have been just the Joker that made you this way. He’s your… origin story, not your love interest.”

And I think that just endeared danny to her forever.

So while Danny cuddles with Bud and Lou on the Couch, the bats are freaking out because they lost Danny. And what do the bats do best when they panic? Suit up and spread out. 

Lex is finally being called. Suffice to say the conversation does not go well. At all. And Lex is now on the way. Because of course he is. Especially after Bruce basically insulted him by insinuating he´s a bad parent. Way to put your foot in your mouth, Bruce.

And what else does happen on this lovely day? The Joker gets out, because of course he does. Why not make bad things even worse? That´s what this man does best after all.

Meanwhile Ivy is exasperated at Harley´s antics, seeing as she wants to steal Danny from Lex and yeah. Just a typical start to girl´s night i guess? Catwoman will have fun with this situation, i can already tell xD

Now if only I knew what Damian would want those bolt cutters for?

Selina arrives! And instantly thinks Danny was kidnapped as well.

That topic quickly shifts though. And what does it shift into? Bruce´s batdoption problems. It´s just such a good meme and I´m not even mad about it.

It also seems a put a few things into perspective for Danny since she tells him that some people don´t think Lex to be a good parent. For very good reasons to be honest, but I guess it still stings a bit ...

In the end girl night starts with them just trash talking Bruce and his furry tendencies. As well as his hypocrisy when we consider his dating history. How a man with such a moral compass can deal with dating people such as Talia or Catwoman I will never understand. I know, I know. Sexual Tension. But Sexual Tension does not cause you to conceive a child together (that´s just trash as well. I gotta be solidary xD)

So in the typical girl night fashion, they talk about feelings and who may have a crush on whom and how oblivious some people (*cough* Danny *cough*) are and there´s many an adive to be had. They´re just gal pals having fun :D

Meanwhile Lex is annoyed at the Gotham airspace seeing as he can´t get into the city without changing vehilces because a certain clown blew up some buildings.

Meanwhile girl night changed into poker night and well. I don´t think any of them play fair xD

The conversation that follow are easily put under the "What happens on girls’ night, stays on girls' night" category as Ivy suitably calls it.

The bats and birds still haven´t stopped searching. Joker´s still a crazy piece of work and Danny? Danny is just losing at Uno and living his best live.

[futurewriter2000]

Nothing but Stares and Glances - pt. 2 - final part

A/N: Just as promised. I had to write it in MS Word because I can constantly save it. My computer loves to die on me and I lose everything I write or do for school. Happened like twice in the past week. I kinda went a bit smutty here but I didn't go t far because I don't know... I usually do angst but hehe, I'm on my period so please understand.

XX

It was an odd night tonight. It wasn't because of the cold weather or the simplicty of the darkness that followed but because fort he first time in all your years of Hogwarts, you had a normal conversation with Fred Weasley, the boy who made your cheeks red just by glancing at you. You didn't even bother to think that you were talking to him as the two of you made your way to the kitchen, you just listened to him, replied with a smile, a laugh or a sentence. It felt as if there was nobody around, the two of you could be yourself without having any pressure or insecurity of your feelings being seen by anybody.

Because that was your fear, an odd one at that; that somebody would obviously see that you were so desperately in love with the famous red-head that roamed the halls of Hogwarts, making everybody turn their heads when he walked by. It wasn't anything but him being himself. His identity and character being the sole reason why he is liked by many. You haven't even noticed how fast your heart was beating beside him, nor the way you haven't felt a single breeze your way to the cousine. His presence was simply that much strong and intense.

One minute you're looking at him from a lower point of view, staring up at him with adoration, the next you are sitting beside him in the kitchen eating raisins covered in chocolate with him.

»It's not disgusting.« you laughed, arguing. »Raisins, yes, obviously disgusting. Chocolate raisins-.« you smiled as you took a bite of another and closed your eyes, humming to the sweetness of the taste. »Delicious.« you opened your eyes to see him grimace.

»That's unbelievable. It's like saying you hate tomatoes but like ketchup.« he looked at you.

»If you hate tomatoes, you torture them quite enough until they turn into ketchup. So you let them know you have won.« you laughed and he couldn't keep a straight face as you did.

»I hate how that makes sense.« he crossed his arms over his chest and turned away, grinning.

»C'mon.« you said, offering him the ba gof raisin. »Have a taste.«

He eyes the bag. »No.«

»Come on. It won't bite you.«

»It might as well.«

»Stop being a big baby and take it.«

»Joke's on you, because I am a big baby.« he scrunched his nose and you laughed, throwing  a raisin at him and he laughed as well, looking away, then looking back at you.

Then there it was. That look. The one he always gives you. The look you never know what it means, except that it lights your soul on fire and causes you an apetite loss. You stopped eating the grapes and put them away, just as your eyes from his. Your cheeks inflamed themselves with redness and you felt embarrassed by them.

»We should go.« you tried not to look at him because even if you only took a glance, you could feel him staring at you with those muddy brown eyes of his.

»I don't think we should.« he replied and you looked at him by now, longer and firmer. He gave you a small, adoring smile before continuing. »It's not every day I get a chance to speak with you.«

You furrowed your eyebrows because one part of your brain went one way and another part the opposite direction. »Well, you've got your people and I got mine. It's not like it's universally possible for those two people to mix.« you replied.

»What do you mean?« he laughed, confused as well.

You stared at him for a while, thinking he knows exactly what you mean but as more as you looked into those eyes, the more you understood that he didn't have a clue. So after a long pause, you replied. »You're Fred Weasley. Everybody in school knows who you are. You make a loud boom or a bang, heads turn, smiles drop, laughter echoes. Your friends are either Quidditch players or friends with the famous Harry Potter. You go on adventures that rumor around the school and I'm-.« you stopped and looked at him, finding his smile disappear and watching you intensely.

»You're what?« he asked, almost angry but angry for what?

»I'm that girl that sits quiet in class and listens. The one with the notes and the homework everybody copies of. The reliable Ravenclaw with reliable, good influential friends. I don't go on adventures, I go to the library or for a walk around the lake. I like nature and get inspired by the rain. Nobody knows who I am. I don't make heads turn when I walk into a room. Nobody thinks of me when there is a party or anything fun really. I'm not Marlene.« you let the last one slip from your tongue, not knowing you said it out loud as if the word Marlene was a quality not a name.

He was watching you in silence for a while. It was as if he wanted to build the tension so loud it would break without saying any other word. By now you realised you were saying too much. He could tell all of this to his friends. To be frank with yourself, you don't even know who he is. He could have followed you here as a joke, as a dare, as anything but were you ever that relevant to be anything. You didn't know whether you should speak or run away, maybe even drop into the ground. The silence was so loud by now that you could hear him breathing and feel your heart beat slow but strong in your chest.

»I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any of that.« you broke the silence first and it was as if you broke him out of a thought process, which you did.

»Do you really think like that?« he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. »Think like there are two sides of the world that cannot work together?«

»That's the law of the universe. There has to be good, for bad to exist and the other way around.« you tried to lighten the mood but it was as you pulled a trigger in him that made him unrecognisable to your eyes.

Did you break him?

»It's silly. C'mon, let's go.« you smiled and got off your chair. You wanted ot end this awkward interaction before it progressed but just as you stepped in front of his chair, he stood up in front of you, blocking your way out and placing his arm on the table. He leaned on it, towering above you and looking down on your sweet, innocent eyes.

You had no idea what was happening but it became hotter. You felt your mouth go dry as soon as you looked up at his eyes that seemed to observe you, serious and seducing. He licked his lips and as he took a step forward, you took a step back. As you did so, his hand placed itself on your lower back and pushed you back to him so your breasts were already touching his torso. You didn't know, you didn't think, all you knew was that your hand placed itself on his strong hip and your fingers cramped up into a tight grip of his shirt.

He had no perfume but he smelled good. He smelled like a man, the smell that would usually disgust you but at this point, his own natural smell made your hips press themselves onto his. It was such a natural movement, it made you feel that somebody else was controling your body… and it was. He was controling it- somehow, some way. Just as your hips touched his, he closed his eyes and let out a low hum. You could feel his arm strain itself. He grew stiff and he knew that at that moment, he couldn't control his body either. It was as if the two of you were playing with each other, unwillingly, unconsciously. You felt something hard against your thighs and by knowing what it was, you pushed him as close as possible and without a word, he took that as a sign to kiss you fiercely on the lips.

It was your first kiss and you had no idea how it went. You didn't expect his tongue to sli pinto your mouth but it did and somehow, you knew exactly what you needed to do. You kissed him back and as you did so, you felt the urge to bring him closer and closer to you. He did the same but as his height seemed to bother him, he lifted you and sat you on the table, grunting as the two of you pressed your hips together, to feel each other down where it was the hottest. For a moment, he pulled away and gasped but as soon as he did that, you took him pulled him back where you knew he belonged.

You have never done anything like this. You've never even held hands with a boy but as much as you thought about these intimate things in the past, there was only one thing in your mind. »I want you closer.« you seemed to whisper and with that he pulled away. He looked at you, gasping for air and smiling.

»Oh, God. You're so beautiful.« he said as he took a chance to look at you again, holding his hand on your cheek, then kissing it repeatedly. He kissed it, then kissed your neck and took a small bit, which made you release a sound you never knew you could. Everything moved so fast that the next thing you knew, your sweater was on the ground and his hands were on your bare breasts.

By now your mind was filled with thoughts again. Thoughts that faught another strong power in your body that you had no idea where it came from. You were just about to speak, when his lips pressed themselves on your breasts and you let a sound much louder than before. Euphoric feeling went over your body and you put your hand over your mouth. He looked up and grinned before moving lower.

Oh, now you knew what he was about to do and you didn't know what to do. You didn't know if you should- but everything seemed to be moving so fast and you were enjoying every minute of it. You couldn't decide whether to stop it or to just let it play out.

Before you could come to the decision, he stood back up and pushed you off the table. He was smiling as he kissed you on the lips again, making your thoughts scramble away from your head as if you had no memory of anything in your life anymore. He pressed his hand between your dressed thighs and touched you with his fingers down below. He pulled away. »I wanted you. I always wanted you.« he whispered and you looked up as he pulled his hand back up and under your underwear. They were cold, so darn cold but as soon as you felt them on your heated area, you lost your breath and gasped, leaning back.

»Shit- stop.« you said and he stopped.

»You want me to stop.«

»No- don't stop.« you threw your head forward and pushed his hand back to where it was. He smiled and kissed you and you kissed him back, spreading your legs a bit wider and pulling him close.

»No, I think you're right. I think we should stop.« he took a step back and ran his hand through his hair, meanwhile you were there, shocked, confused, naked. »Shit.« he murmered and you quickly took your sweater back nad threw it back on you, feeling heartbeats everywhere.

You opened your mouth to say something but before you could, he turned around and walked back to you.

»I'm sorry- you wanted me to finish and I just-.«

»What?« you asked confused. To be honest, you had no idea about any of the things that just happened, never-the-less, what he was about to finish or not.

»I like you. I do. I had fancied you for such a long time.« he started to ramble. It was as if he had a hig dose of drugs, he didn't know how to calm himself down. »You were just speaking some nonesense about how we wouldn't work and I got angry and suddenly you were close and I didn't want you to get away and then the next thing I knew I was kissing you and I should have just kissed you but I want you so badly, I had always wanted you so badly and I had you and I didn't know if you wanted to run away from me and if what if that was all you wanted but my mom raised me to be a gentleman and I want to be a gentleman but at the same time I want you and you are- wow- you're such an amazing kissed and the next thing I knew I was taking off your clothes and you don't deserve to be treated like that- for me to just rip off your clothes but when I did and saw- well, you and you being well- wow and God, you're so soft like silk and so gorgeous- I know! I KNOW! I should at least take you on a date first instead of-.«

»Fred…« you said but he kept on rambling. It was actually quite funny to see him so nervous fort he first time that he made you laugh.

»… and that two different worlds just got to me and I didn't know how else to approach you because I feel like you don't even notice me as-.«

»Fred.« you spoke gently again, taking a hold of his hand and making him shut up.

»You see. That. That makes me nervous as hell.« he said as he was staring at your hands.

You let out a laugh. »You really fancied me all this time?« you asked and it was his turn to turn red as well.

»I thought it was obvious.«

»I though I was the one that was obvious?«

»Obvious of what?« he furrowed his eyebrows.

»Of fancying you.«

He was quiet for a while. »You-.« he pointed at you. »You never- you always ignored me.«

»You always flirted with every female organism on this earth except me.« you argued back.

The two of you stood silent for a while, grasping the truth and processing it in your head. Then you both laughed and he pulled you in for a hug. You embraced him and felt as if you had known him your entire life. As if you had just met an old friend, an old lover that you had loved in all your past lives. Why it felt so natural, so warm and safe with him. All of that seemed to be answered for you in that one hug.

»I've always wanted you.« he whispered, kissing your head and causing you to smile.

»I've always wanted you too.«

[pavardscherie]

Benjamin Pavard+locker room smut

curse words, benjamin pavard

⤷ pairing: benjamin pavard & female reader ⤷ summary: benji takes reader to the changing rooms while he's not allowed to play because of a second booking in the past game.

⤷ izzy talks. how many times has this been in my dreams and fantasies? i can't count anymore but probably so often lol. I'm such a simp for that man.

⤷ warnings: basically p in v, mentions of past sexual interactions, naming and touching genitals, bruises, dirty & teasing talk

⤷ requests are open.

his eyes followed the ball on the pitch, the possession switching between the players of bayern münchen and Paris saint-germain. the return match of the champions league, after the red-white's won the first game. but instead of being on the field with his mates, benjamin was forced to watch from the stands.

a second booking turned into a red card, and he was suspended for the second game between the teams. the action that caused his suspension was a necessary slide tackle against lionel messi, or he could have scored the equalizer.

minutes after minute passed, and curse words, in english and french, slipped out of benjamin's mouth whenever a good chance was unused, or the defenders of psg blocked a perfect shot.

you accompanied him to the match, but even your attendance could not distract him. the curse words floated out of his mouth, the anger spreading through his veins. for others, impossible to see. but you saw the thick vein on the side of his throat, the blue line, pulsating, and the clenched fists, which were hidden deep in the pockets of his jacket.

but what you witnessed, caused difficulties in concentrating. the image you saw, resembled the appearance and attitude of benjamin when he hovered above you. hands placed neatly beside your head on the pillows, forehead pressed against yours as his hips started to slam into you.

you still felt the purple-ish marks on your waist from last night. after you decided to beg for harder thrusts, and promising him that it won't hurt you, benjamin complied quickly and took a certain liking to the rougher side. the thick scarf around your throat covered the small love bites, which would only spark more attention.

but the thoughts, the skin slapping while benjamin's thrust became rougher by the minute. on all fours on the bed, your arms giving in to the strength of the football player, your cheeks pressed into the large pillows scattered over the blanket. the reminders did not leave your head after hearing the curse words slip out of benjamin's mouth several times by now.

clenching the thighs together, you didn't realize how his eyes have left the pitch after you didn't answer him and focused on the ways, you tried to hide what games your head played with you. bottom lip caught by your teeth, you chewed on the sensitive skin and stared ahead. one more glance at benjamin, and the wetness between your legs would pool uncontrollably.

"you don't look good." benjamin remarked, closing the small distance between the two of you, and placing his hand on your lower back. your lids immediately fluttered close, the small touch of his fingers, the feeling of his hands on you made the current state worse. while you tried to hide the obvious, benjamin was far from letting those small reactions slip. leaning down, the head tilted slightly to reach your ear, you couldn't see how his lips curled into a smirk.

"are you horny?" he muttered against your shell, his warm breath fanning over a small spot of exposed skin between the hairline and scarf. how convenient that your hair was thrown up in a messy bun, allowing him easy access when he was in the mood for dirty talk.

his voice was a raspy mess, the constant screams through the stands and the deep, muttered curse words, ruined the gentle spark. the large paw on the curve of your back wandered slowly around your body, finding a home on your waist to pull you closer into his towering figure. "cherie, do you want me to do something about it?" his whispers made you feral, the desire to feel him pulsating inside of you again after last night became unbearable. nodding your head as an answer, you knew, it wasn't enough of an answer for benjamin. he loved words.

" tell me, cherie. what do you want?" pressing your body closer against his, you felt the growing tent in his black cargo pants. leaning closer to your ear, benjamin's soft lips grazed over your jaw and placed a gentle kiss on the crimson-tinted span of your cheek.

you turned your head in his direction, glancing up at his face. pupils dilated, the colorful ring of hazelnut and chocolate turned darker, the lust shown in the mixture. it was impossible to hide how much the small conversation, and the thought of the other being horny, affected the two. nothing could distract benjamin from watching important matches. except for your sudden rise of desire for him. he could never let that slip.

„i want you.“ you whispered, attempting to keep your voice low enough from being heard by the fans around you. the stands were crowded, but benjamin couldn’t allow himself another scandal after losing his driver‘s license. standing on your tip toes, your gloss-covered lips brushed slightly over his dry ones. „to fuck me.“

six words that easily pushed his buttons, and switched his personality. with his free hand, he carefully adjusted the tent in his pants while you still stood in front of him, and the other guided you through the stands. fifteen minutes of the first half were left until the tunnels would be filled with players and coaches from both teams. letting his hand slip from your waist and down your arm, benjamin held your hand in his as he jogged through the crowds and towards the changing rooms in the lowest floor.

before you realized how many turns you took, or in which corridor you landed, a door fell into the frame. your back collided with the cold metal of the door, and your wrists held in place above your head. „we only have ten minutes, cherie.“ benjamin dipped down his head, continuing the insult on the side of your throat with a mess of kisses. the gentleness disappeared when your desired were shown with words.

„be a good girl, and bend over the bench in front of my jersey for me.“ he instructed, taking a step back again to give you enough space to move. it has always been a fantasy of his, to fuck you in the locker room, your eyes focused on the name on the jersey so you never forget it. „open that belt for me, and pull them down before bending over.“ pointing his finger at the tight jeans you wore, benjamin crossed his arms and watched your movements attentively.

without saying a word, or even trying to discuss the possibilities, you complied to his wishes. hands fiddled with the belt, quickly opening it and your pants. underneath waited a pair of plum lace panties. a sight which caused benjamin to groan quietly.

turning around as quick as you could, without falling over the denim material pooling around your legs, you fell to your knees. belly pressed to the wooden bench which looked way too low to even bend over it, your delicate palms placed on the floor tiles. ten minutes wasn't enough for sweet and loving intercourse.

benjamin's footsteps echoed through the empty locker room, the clinging sounds of his belt rang in your ears. thoughts and images of last night clouded your mind, and left a damp spot on your panties. kneeling down behind you after freeing the painfully hard dick from the prison of fabric, benjamin carefully pulled down the lace material. dilated pupils watched how the strings of arousal connected the fabric and your pussy, and he felt his cock twitching at the insanely hot sight. "just a quick one, cherie. ready to take me all in?"

he didn't need an answer, the words were rambled syllables. fleshy fingers wrapped around his shaft, his reddened tip brushed over your pussy and gathered the wetness as lube. without awaiting a reaction from you, benjamin pushed the tip of his dick between your folds, slowly entering your wet hole.

the burning stretch was welcomed by you, as the pleasure of being filled by him overshadowed the slight amounts of pain. and as the time was short, benjamin didn’t give you much time to adjust at all. his thrusts immediately were relentless, hips snapping against your ass and pushing your waist against the wooden bench.

the impact caused a whimper to escape your mouth, already preparing for the painful marks of purple and blue to blemish your belly by tomorrow. three, deep and perfectly angled thrusts were enough to lose the strength to hold your head up. but it wasn’t in the cards, if benjamin demanded something from you, you wouldn’t find release until you played by his rules.

„head up, cherie. look at the jersey. i want you to remember exactly who‘s the only one who can turn you into such a fucked out mess.“ benjamin‘s groans interfered with the little reminder speech, his calloused palms placed against the smooth skin of your waist as the pounding turned harsher and faster.

ten minutes, he reminded himself multiple times, while your sweet smell lingered in his nostrils and made it difficult to gather straight thoughts. another scandal for the french football player could cause the end of his time at bayern münchen. exactly not what he wanted. but the innocence laced with the color of your eyes, and the delicious way you chewed open the thin skin of your bottom lip while the thoughts of him ravished your mind, was enough to forget the rules for at least ten minutes.

the curse words spilled out of his mouth, mixed with animalistic groans and growls when his hard dick disappeared between your folds. you obeyed benjamin‘s orders, holding your head high, reading your boyfriends last name with each thrust of his hips. the feeling of benjamin‘s tip, brushing against your g-spot, felt like it came from another world. it was indescribable with words, and unbelievable to comprehend when a particularly rough thrust, almost pushed you into the pleasure-filled trance.

“come on, cherie. let go for me, squeeze me tightly with your perfect little pussy.” benjamin’s chest was pressed against your back, hovering carefully about you and whispering the praising words against the material of your sweater. the french accent, the way he emphasized words differently and gave each syllable a different sound, made it impossible to resist what he demanded. it took merely two thrust, your walls pulsating as the waves crashed over you — completely and at once. no chance to prepare or to inhale enough oxygen, the loud moans and benjamin’s name coaxed out of your throat.

clutching the legs together, you forced yourself to keep your lids open, and focused on the white capital letters as your orgasm brought you to a new high. walls clenched around benjamin’s shaft, squeezing him tightly like he wanted, he came merely a thrust later. white spurts decorated the insides of your pussy, your bundle of nerves pulsating while staying untouched for this time and his deep groan rang in your ears. normally, benjamin’s calloused fingertips rubbed messy circles over your clit but the time didn’t allow any extras right now.

pushing his hips deeply against your ass, benjamin stayed inside of you for a couple more seconds to empty himself completely. even with only ten minutes, he wouldn’t waste a second to stuff you further with his semen. soft lips placed a soft kiss on your clothed shoulder blade and another in the middle of your spine before pulling out of your wet, stretched hole and taking a step back. arousal dripped out of your ruined pussy, covering the insides of your thighs. a pleasing sight for benjamin’s eyes as he tugged away his limp dick and zipped his pants back up.

when you found your strength again, you pushed yourself off the uncomfortable wooden bench. deep red marks blemished the skin around your waist, leaving another reminder of what happened in the locker room after benjamin received a second booking in the last game. pulling up your pants, you slipped the belt through the loops again and closed it over the button of your jeans. “with a minute to spare.” benjamin analyzed, glancing over at the flat screen on the wall. the first half was nearly over, and somehow in the past eight minutes, bayern münchen scored the first goal. another step further into reaching the champions league finale and raising the trophy.

“you still annoyed, you can’t play today?” you asked, taking a step closer to your boyfriend and wrapping your arms around his chest. benjamin towered over you, dipping the head down to place a kiss on the crown of your hair with a chuckle. “still bothers me, but i got a better treatment than on the pitch.”

exchanging a satisfied smile, the door to the locker room bursted open, and the handle hit the white brick wall for the millionth time. cheering men in red and white jumped into the room, clapping the hands together and talking about the goal, when the attention landed on benjamin and you, in the middle of the room. “aye, there’s our defender with the second booking.” thomas cheered, raising the hands in the air and walking straight towards ben.

“what brings you to the locker rooms?” leon asked, a bushy brow raised as he greeted benjamin and you. “just showed my girl where champions have their deserved break.”

and as if he knew that calling the team champions without standing in the finale yet, would direct the attention on the match again, he draped his arm over your shoulders and pulled you into his side. satisfied that the questions dissolved before being completely under attack by their noisy behavior, benjamin smiled down. “i love you.” he mouthed and became the reason for the stretch of watermelon-pink that covered the span of your cheeks.