#i still spend considerable amount of time on my phone

[tenrose]

Since I finally read at a higher rate with regularity, I'm really pissed that the thing getting between me and my books is my job but also I need that job to buy books, and you know food and pay bills but whatever

[husbandhoshi]

title: ghosted pairing: seungcheol x f!reader wc: 6.1k, mature/18+ only! tags: based on this drabble. porn with a considerable amount of plot, fwb to lovers, rich guy!cheol, yn is able to be picked up. horrible terrible excessive amounts of fluff. smut tags below the cut. everyone say thank you to @wuahae for reading this over :)

smut tags: softdom!cheol, unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), spanking/biting, yn has hair that can get pulled, mild ass play, boob stuff, fingers in mouth.

--

you think you have seungcheol's number memorized.

well, you definitely should have by now, with how many times you considered deleting it. instead you ended up changing his contact name, first to seungcheol club, which is where you met him. second time--rebound guy. the third iteration, your roommate had made it DO NOT TEXT, and you had left it like that because she was probably right anyway.

for better or for worse, you are not very good at following instructions. you're two and a half weeks fresh off of a heart-to-heart with your friends where you agreed that no, the best way to get over your ex was to not get under somebody else, and yes, you should absolutely stop sleeping with a guy who brags about being a playboy.

so you deleted his number and your text history, and everyone swore up and down that this was a good thing.

and you're sure you were on the same page as them until about five minutes ago, when you were doing your laundry and you had come across one of his white button-up shirts.

(he let you keep it because he said you looked better in it than he did. that morning, before you left his place, he had buttoned it all the way up for you--don't want anyone else looking at you the way i do, he had said. plus, the amount of hickies he had left behind were in no way presentable to the general public.)

the effect this has on you is instantaneous and humiliating.

"fuck. fuck," you groan, now scrolling through your camera roll to look for literally any screenshot with his number in it.

there's one from back when he was rebound guy--he had sent you ten dollars in apple cash so you could buy a coffee when you said you were too tired to fuck. you ended up coming over that night anyway, and you both watched four hours of law and order until you fell asleep on his couch.

there are a handful from when DO NOT TEXT had sexted you in the middle of the workday, which you kept for posterity and nights alone with your vibrator.

and then, finally, a few weeks before that, when things were simple and he was just an unsaved number in your phone--hey, i know you ran out this morning, but i wanted to let you know i had a great time last night, if you know what i mean. even with the winky face emoji, it was a strangely wholesome text from a first time hookup.

you favorite the screenshot and curse the fact that you have never had good impulse control.

you up? i miss you.

the words fly so fast out of your fingers, you have no time to consider whether or not this is a good idea. you vividly recall the time he told you he had never seen the point of putting a label on a relationship, which was the whole reason your friends staged an intervention in the first place.

still, the white shirt on your bed taunts you. even thinking about it makes your head spin.

yeah. let me send you an uber.

that too--he had money, and he wasn't ashamed to spend it on you. between that and the dick, you don't think you're willing to squander your luck.

besides, seungcheol is still rebound guy. you're still getting over your ex, and he's just a quick fix in the meantime. you tell yourself this, and you keep telling yourself this until you're out the door, without a second chance to tell yourself otherwise.

--

"can't go long without getting your back blown out, huh?"

this is the first thing seungcheol says to you, oblivious to the fact that you were planning on forever ghosting him less than an hour ago.

"as if you didn't answer my text almost immediately," you laugh, letting him help you take your coat off.

"never said i wasn't happy to provide," he replies. his gaze is hot, sticky, like he's forgotten what you've looked like already. "i think it's been almost a month. i thought you got tired of me or something, you know."

"of course not. i...i got busy."

it's a half lie. the other half? you wouldn't dare admit it, but you missed his apartment a little. partly because it's much nicer than your own, but the bachelor pad decor was starting to grow on you. (and maybe the bachelor, with it.)

"work was good today?" you ask, letting him draw you in by the waist. his hands are so warm as he draws them up and down your sides, underneath the cotton of the thin shirt you have on.

"oh, please," seungcheol says, his grin now hovering right over your lips. "don't play innocent. you didn't come here so i could talk about my job."

he's right, so you let him kiss you. it's hot and fast and it tastes like his twenty dollar mouthwash, which you take small pride in because it means he would have been sleeping if his hand wasn't on your ass right now.

seungcheol has never been slow nor patient. your shirt has come off, and he now thumbs at the waistband of your jeans, grasping at the button to undo them.

"i don't think i even know what you look like with pants on," he says, lips dragging against the shell of your ear. "you always dress up when you come here, and it all ends up on the floor. pity."

you feel all the heat in your body surge towards your core. somehow your jeans are already on the floor and seungcheol's palm is fanned over the thin lace of your panties.

"thought about me the whole way here, huh?" two fingers are meanly sat over the seam of your cunt, pressing the damp fabric to your skin. "let yourself get all wet for me on the car ride?"

"maybe," you manage, not wanting to betray the embarrassment in your voice. you don't need his hand there to know how wet you are, and yet you know he's doing it to tease you anyway. he finds the bump of your clit over the fabric, now clingy and warm over your skin, and runs his thumb over it. "what else was i supposed to think about?"

"no need to be shy. can't lie with such a needy pussy." he chuckles as your thighs squeeze helplessly around him. "it's cute."

before you can protest, he pushes your panties to the side, now undoubtably soaked through, and his fingers find your clit again. it just takes two, three, rough strokes to draw the pleasure out of you like a fire in your belly.

"cheol," you whine. somehow things always end up like this--you, almost fully naked, and him, still with all his clothes on. he likes reminding you of it too, now enjoying the way you press against him, searching for skin. instead, you feel his cock under his sweatpants, right up against your thigh, and it only turns you on further.

your hands find his waist, but between the new welt he's sucked into your neck and the paralyzing feeling of his thumb on your clit again and again, you falter. your fingertips hover on the downy hair peeking over the band of his sweats, and you've never ached more to have him inside you.

that's all seungcheol needs to yank you back in line. "bed. now," he says, and you listen.

his apartment is big, and the walk feels dizzying as he follows behind you. what's even worse is that you can feel his eyes rake over you--he loves it. the humiliating stumble of your two left feet, the glistening slick at the apex of your thighs, how your panties cling to your ass, now ruined.

even now, as you clamber onto the bed like you're learning to use your limbs for the first time, he loves how easy you are for him. but you can't help it--no one fucks you as good as he does, and that was the reason he was rebound guy in the first place.

"face me," is his next command. at the foot of the bed, first, he pulls off his shirt, and your eyes wander first to his chest, then to the trail he's got down his stomach, teasing you as he pushes down his sweats.

one of his hands, strong and veiny, disappears under his waistband to play with his cock. you watch the slow flick of his wrist and see the shape of his length underneath the fabric, and you almost start salivating.

you're sure he's punishing you by now.

"you're staring, pretty girl. use your words." a turn of his wrist, and he groans. he might just make himself cum like this, and the notion that it wouldn't be somewhere inside you absolutely shatters the last bit of pride you had left.

"need you in my mouth, cheol," you whine, now sitting up straight against the headboard, as if looking any more pitiful would persuade him to join you.

and he does, just not in the way you want him to. instead, you watch his sweats fall to the ground before he kneels on the edge of the bed, on the end furthest from you.

"what, you think i'm gonna give it to you easy? after you made me wait for you?" you are not thinking straight enough to decipher what this means. who knew ghosting a fuckboy would have actual consequences, but you watch his grip tighten around the fat base of his cock and decide this is not the time to play detective.

so you swallow your pride and all your questions and you crawl. you crawl all the way down the seemingly endless length of his king sized bed, feeling seungcheol's gaze swallow you whole, and you like it.

when you stop at the foot of the bed, you take pause to look at seungcheol, really look at him. his eyes are dark, almost unrecognizably so--maybe it's the way you so readily make yourself perfect for him, arching your back just how he likes and letting your swollen, wet mouth fall open like you've never wanted anything more than him.

"so pretty like this," he coos. he runs a thumb over your bottom lip, feeling it quiver under his skin. you feel the saliva pooling in your mouth; it's as humiliating as it is desperate but you can't help yourself. it feels so good to be touched, and seungcheol's clings to you like nothing else.

he pushes his fingers into your mouth, almost to the back so you choke. you're at the point where you'll take anything, so you suck. you let your tongue run all over the digits, long and calloused enough that you can only dream of having them inside the other half of you. he pushes onto your tongue, wanting you to taste him, and you whimper, the feeling harsh but not unwelcome.

"dumb mouth just needs something in it, huh? my girl will just suck anything?"

you can't talk, so you whine around his fingers, feeling your pussy clench around nothing. he's been playing with his cock with his free hand, forcing you to watch him trace every vein with his own skin instead of yours. you hollow out your cheeks and suck him nice and tight, trying to fool yourself otherwise.

then he laughs, low and quiet--as fun as it is to slut you out, he's never been patient. "open wide, darling." he slides his fingers out from your mouth before pulling your hair out of the way. thank you, you want to say, but it's quickly washed away by the shock of his cock between your lips, rough but never too much so.

god, you didn't even think you liked sucking dick that much, but sleeping with seungcheol for this long must have altered your brain chemistry for the worse. his familiar, heavy warmth sits on your tongue, and you can't help but moan around him. you love the stretch of your jaw, the way his eyes always wrench shut no matter how in control he is.

"fuck," he groans, carding a hand through his hair. "slutty little mouth's made for me."

you hum around him, taking him all the way to where your nose skims the dewy curls on his abdomen and all you know is the scent of his heat. you're drooling so much, thanks to all the fingers in your mouth not too long ago, but you don't care. you run your tongue on the veiny underside of his cock, back and forth, savoring the hurt in your cheeks and all the spit on your chin.

seungcheol makes a low-pitched, strangled noise, the first time you've seen him crack tonight, and it sends another gushy wave of heat to your cunt.

you toy with his slit, let the salt of his precum fill your mouth, and suck hard around his cockhead. your scalp stings wonderfully with how he pulls at your hair, and you lean into the feeling. a deep breath through your nose, and you sink down again. the way he hits the back of your throat makes you yelp pitifully, but you persist like a dog to a bone. again, again, and you're gagging on your own spit as your throat spasms around him and you go cross-eyed.

he's all about control, but he lets you have this--perhaps he likes seeing you give yourself to him without him asking. he doesn't have to lift a finger, and you'll still choke around him, bruise your own throat. surely that had to mean something, but you'll chalk it up to some astrological sexual compatibility you're unaware of at the moment.

"enough," seungcheol finally says, voice gravelly, and he pulls you off him by the hair. "fuck, you probably would've cummed from that alone, huh?"

meanly, he reaches over your back to grab at the strings of your underwear so it digs into your cunt. you cry out, feeling the warmth of arousal leak all over your twitching hole, even between your ass. he's right--any more, and you really might have cummed all over yourself.

" 'm so wet, cheol," you plead, toes curling as he pulls the elastic of your panties further back. "please, please, please."

he releases the band, and it snaps hard against your skin. it feels like electricity as it connects with you, and you cry out again, the noise high-pitched and whoreish.

"gonna need you to face the other way if you want me to fuck you, darling," he says. "my baby likes it best from behind, right?"

you have nothing left in you but insatiable desire. you turn around to face the headboard, still on your hands and knees. seungcheol runs a careful hand down the curve of your spine before landing a hard slap on your ass. your skin sings, and all the blood in your body feels like it's been turned to fire.

"cheol," you warble, pressing your face into the sheets. your pussy actually hurts from how neglected it is, and when the second slap comes down, your clit aches like a bruise. "need you so bad...can't believe i went so long without you."

the words just fall out of you but you think they're true regardless. you were really fooling yourself thinking you could go the rest of your life without this. somewhere deep inside you, in the working part of your brain, you wonder if he's come to the same conclusion. that underneath the show, all the greed and the meanness, he missed you too.

"you must really need to get fucked," seungcheol chuckles. "you've never been this nice to me."

"not true," you protest, muffled by the sheets, and he laughs again. then he peels your underwear down your thighs before spreading your ass underneath his palms, and the cool air makes you twitch under him.

"you smell so fucking good. fuck." he groans, low and desirous, and it's the last thing you register before you feel the swell of his nose, his lips, as he buries his face in your cunt.

it's all too much at once--it rips a squeal out from your chest, one of those slutty, loud ones he loves, and it spurs him on further. you feel the wet pressure of his tongue, first between your folds, then up to the tight ring of your asshole, still messy with your arousal.

"o-oh my god," you cry. the pressure in your belly is now wound tight; you're so, so close and he's barely even started. he seems to know this, and deprives you of his mouth in lieu of his two fingers. the change in sensation is instant and toe-curling. something, anything, is finally inside you, and it's better than anything you have ever known. he drags the pads of his fingers brutally over your g-spot, loving the way you cry and tremble beneath him as your orgasm builds.

"have you had enough, pretty girl?" seungcheol asks, voice cruel, teasing. it's a rhetorical question--before you know it, his fingers are gone, and you instead feel the length of his cock between the curve of your ass. he's got a hand between your shoulder blades, pinning you down, just so he can see you struggle to push yourself against him.

"n-no," you reply, voice catching in your throat. you feel the head of his cock against your slit, and your thighs tremble with anticipation. not good enough. it only takes him a few times, rocking against your cunt, for you to crumble. you ask for things you can't even remember, and it's then when he pushes into you, so meanly you really do forget what words mean.

seungcheol swears under his breath, and his grip on your ass feels tight enough to bruise. your cunt flutters around him, god, you forgot how fucking big he is, but he doesn't give you much time to get used to it. his pace is unforgiving, and his hips slam into your ass like he's trying to fuck the sound out of you.

"cheol," you hiccup, listening to your voice jolt with every thrust. " 'm so full...."

"yeah? you like how i fill you up?" he squeezes your ass hard, and you moan into the sheets. "better than anyone else?"

"o-only you," you reply, slack-jawed at the feeling of being split open so well and the delicious, unending drag of him against your walls. "just you."

this seems to satisfy him. he enters you, deeper still, until it feels like he's in your stomach.

"so fucking tight," he says, from somewhere deep in his chest. "you need me to stretch you out like this every once in a while, yeah? you take it so well, pretty girl."

all you can do is moan his name. it's what you've been doing, and at this point, it's the only word you know. he bottoms out again, and the pleasure is so white-hot it feels like it burns.

it only takes two, three, punches into your cunt for you to come undone. you're gushing, gushing around him, babbling something incoherent, and still he is unrelenting. you feel your mouth move in an attempt to tell him you're too sensitive, and he only shoves his cock deeper in you so he can feel you clench hard around it.

then he pushes your head into the sheets, deeper still so the neighbors won't write him up in the morning, and fucks you again. you foolishly think another orgasm will break you, but all it takes is for him to press his thumb into the dip of your asshole and tell you he's going to fuck you in both holes one day for you to fall apart again.

by the time he's done with you, your legs feel boneless and you don't even want to think about the situation between them. (you had asked him to cum in you, and he did. there was so much, he had to push some back into you with his fingers, and you cummed one more time.)

you feel seungcheol's dead weight slump onto the bed beside you. you're still face-down, but you turn as far as you can to look at him. it's unfair how he still looks good now--his bangs, dark and curly with sweat, crown his forehead, and you watch his long eyelashes flutter shut.

"fuck," he groans. "how does every time with you get better?"

somewhere inside you, in the parts that still work, you feel a small gleam of pride. it feels traitorous, in a way--the whole point of being friends with benefits was that it was supposed to be conditional, but you're running out of conditions. clearly, it didn't take much for you to come back and not regret it.

seungcheol laughs at your silence. "did i break you? no," he jokingly whines, and he rolls onto his side to return your gaze. he brings a hand up to brush the hair out of your eyes, as if that would somehow magically repair your body. but it does feel nice. "please speak."

"maybe broken. to be determined." seungcheol grins stupidly when you say this, and you watch how his eyes crinkle up at the sides.

usually, it's every man for himself at this point in the night. seungcheol will order takeout and draft some emails, and you hobble over to the bathroom so you can pee and use the shower. he leaves you alone for this part, which is the perfect opportunity to mix all his fancy shower gels together like you're a kid again.

but today seems different. you lie there for a beat in silence, watching each other blink. then seungcheol gets up, slowly then all at once, and walks over to your wrung-out body.

"i'm picking you up," he says, like a warning. "hopefully you're not afraid of heights."

you think he's joking until you feel the strong cords of his forearms--one around your middle and the other under your legs. you didn't even think you were able to be picked up at this point in your life, but somehow he's got you flush against his chest now, almost nose to nose with him.

"wait," you waver, suddenly feeling self conscious about literally everything. you're sticky and smelly and you're not curious to find out if your post-coital form will scare him away. "seungcheol."

"you really plan on walking yourself over to the bathroom? you couldn't make it to the bedroom earlier, and i hadn't even fucked you yet."

"hey!" you protest. he laughs, and you can feel his whole body shake. "wait, i can't laugh too much, or i'm gonna start leaking."

"you've got another thing coming if you think i'm afraid of a little body fluid."

seungcheol bumps the bathroom door open with his ass, which is somehow the funniest and most endearing thing to you. you flip on the light, and he sets you on the counter like it's just a normal friday night for the both of you.

he turns the shower on and turns back to look at you. "how hot do you want it?" then his eyes narrow playfully. "are you one of those freaks who likes getting their skin boiled off?"

"well, you can answer the first half of that question on your own."

"ok. freak."

while he messes with the shower knobs (he's got one of those showers with three separate showerheads), you take a moment to do some more snooping. the first time you were here, you did go through the various things he had on his counter. most of them are still there--the overpriced moisturizer you shamelessly use when you stay the night, a quarter-full bath and body works foaming soap, and a folded up hand towel with his initials on it.

there are some newer additions too. you don't miss how the little jar for your toothbrush is still there, or a small tube of lip gloss you had forgotten to take back a few months ago. he restocked the hand lotion that you said you liked, too.

you're starting to think that there is a small possibility that you are no longer friends with benefits. you're not dating either, but something somewhere in the middle. but how do you say something like that? how would you know, especially when seungcheol is a self-proclaimed forever bachelor who may never, ever date?

you have no time to think about this any further.

"sooo," seungcheol hums, wiping his hands with a bath towel. "i'll be in the bedroom. you want me to order chinese?" you watch him linger around, lamely, like a stray dog.

"wanna join me?"

he smiles, ear to ear.

"thought you'd never ask."

--

morning comes slowly.

you wake to birdsong and the quiet chatter of the city beneath you. the sun from the curtains is buttery and warm on your bare skin, and time seems to drag its feet. it feels perfect, which is a word you would have never used in relation to any of this, and yet nothing else seems more appropriate.

last night, after your shower (in which you learned that seungcheol always makes his hair into a shampoo mohawk, without fail), you talked for hours over the fattest spread of takeout you had ever seen.

the plan was to put on the office and dissociate like usual, but he finally answered your question about how his day at work was. (tumultuous and drama-filled--that was his first mistake. you love drama.) strangely, by the end of the night, you learned that you had more in common than you thought with a man whose watch collection was valued higher than your entire college education.

"you up?" seungcheol's morning voice comes out sounding like a croak from behind you. you're sure he's about to complain that his arm is asleep from your big head on it, but he doesn't. instead, he settles deeper into your warmth and pulls you closer by the waist.

"yeah," you reply, enjoying the feeling of his skin against your own.

you grab your phone from the nightstand, wondering if your roommate has discovered your betrayal and has blown up your phone. she has, so the two voice memos and twenty text messages in the group chat are no surprise to you.

what is a surprise is the text you get from your ex. can we talk? it reads. it's the first time you've heard from him in months--before that, he had broken up with you (over text) and then proceeded to block you on every platform possible.

your mind starts to spin. you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to text him back. just for closure's sake, you tell yourself, as if you haven't cried at least seven separate times about this. but you will admit, seungcheol has been a great diversion. you don't remember the last time you had a cry, and any progress was good progress to you.

complicating things, said diversion has slotted a leg between yours, and his hand has found its way to your ribcage, distractingly close to your chest. such are the consequences of only wearing a shirt to bed.

"you're so warm," he murmurs, right in the space where your neck meets your shoulder. his hand creeps up, now right over your heartbeat. it doesn't really take much for your body to respond--his fingertips find your nipple, and with a light squeeze, you're already arching back into him. "is this ok?"

"yeah," you breathe. you're distracted, but you figure the best way to un-distract yourself is with a new, better distraction.

now emboldened, he rolls the skin between his fingers, finding he loves the way you shudder underneath him. quickly, he moves out from behind you to hover over you instead, propping himself up by his forearms, and pushes your shirt up over the swell of your tits.

"you good?" seungcheol asks, lips flush to the skin over your heart. he presses another wet kiss to one of your nipples before taking it into his mouth.

"yeah, why?" you have half a mind to hold his head down so he can't ask more questions and ruin the point of being a distraction in the first place.

"dunno." he switches to the other side, licking over a mark he's bitten into your skin. "you looked at your phone and you seemed worried. also, you're frowning, and it's not a sex frown."

damn. you guess you're easier to read than you thought. you don't even have the heart to ask what the fuck a sex frown looks like.

seungcheol's mouth returns to your nipple, and he sucks hard, making you gasp into your palm.

"my ex," you tell him. there's no point in keeping it a secret. the first time you slept together, you had made it clear what your intentions were, which is what made this arrangement work so well in the first place. "he wants to talk or something."

"that asshole?" then another suck, and you keen into him. "you're too good for him."

it's literally one of the three appropriate responses he could have chosen from, but it still feels like a compliment to you. almost too much so.

"yeah. i guess." your voice sounds more wobbly than you'd like, but you chalk it up to the fact that he's now pressing his lips down your middle, all the way down to your core. "hey, i'm ticklish."

"i know." he kisses your belly button, and you smile in spite of yourself. "you smell good, by the way."

"it's your forty dollar body wash," you remind him.

"damn right it is." you feel his breath fan over your thighs, and your stomach flips with anticipation. "legs over my shoulders. you know the drill."

"you don't have to do this, you know," you say, before immediately regretting it. you have a spectacular knack of self-sabotage, which you think seungcheol knows by this point. "you've been really nice to me."

"am i not allowed to like being nice to you?" seungcheol jokes. "would you prefer me to be mean?"

"no," you laugh. you don't know how to ask what he meant. what made yesterday and today so different? it feels like you're on the edge of something, coming close to what you could only describe as more than casual affection, more than desire. "go back to being nice. forget i said anything."

you put your legs over his shoulders, like he asked. one good orgasm wouldn't solve the ex problem or this new seungcheol problem you are starting to discover, but it sure would help you think more clearly.

his lips are soft on you. he has none of the urgency or greed of yesterday; instead, he takes his time with you. his mouth skims over your inner thighs, lightly, drawing out all the breath from your lungs. you make a small noise of impatience, and you feel the stretch of his grin against you.

before you have a second chance to complain, you feel the heat of his open mouth over your cunt, as to drink your taste up. then his tongue, warm, insistent, on your clit, circling it before he sucks.

"o-oh, fuck," you whine, voice muffled by the back of your hand. it feels too early to be loud, and you're already embarrassed by how sensitive you are.

"don't text him back," seungcheol says. he's replaced his mouth with two fingers, now leisurely teasing you at your entrance.

"don't worry--" you manage to say this before he crooks the pads of his fingers into you, right at your sweet spot, and the words are stolen from you. "--about him."

"i'm serious." he laps at your cunt, and with his fingers still buried in you, the feeling makes you dizzy. "did he ever make you feel like this?"

"n-no," you whine, now with your palm shoved right against your mouth. he's added a third finger now, and the stretch is so good, you're going cross-eyed. "never ate me out."

"what?" you hear him tsk between your thighs as his fingers still. "he's missing out."

it's then that seungcheol must have resolved to give you the best head of your life, because you think you black out after that point.

his lips return to your clit, and the pleasure is so startling, you can feel your thighs squeeze shut around his head. unfazed, he continues to pump his fingers in and out of your hole, still fluttering, unused to the size.

"close, 'm so close," you mewl, hips now lifted to chase his tongue. he indulges you, gives you the flat of the muscle to grind against as he stuffs you full.

your other hand finds his hair, and it only takes a moment, a slight pull, for him to moan into your heat--the sound breaks something inside you, and you're gasping, crying out with your high. by now, there are marks from your teeth in your palm, but something about the sting only makes the feeling better.

seungcheol stays sealed to your cunt, removing his fingers only to replace them with his mouth, eager to taste you. he lingers until you're shaking and whimpering, spent from your orgasm and too sensitive to endure another.

he looks up at you, swollen lips and bedhead made worse, and a surge of affection overtakes you.

"kiss me," you tell him, and he does.

it's long, and it's slow, not even close to any of the ones you've had before. you wrap a hand around the back of his neck, and he sighs. you don't think he's ever done that before.

when he pulls back to look at you, it feels as though the air has changed. there are words pushing at your lips. this isn't casual anymore. it can't be, not with what just happened.

yeah, the sex is good, but the first thing you thought of this morning wasn't you or your saturday plans or how to endure the dismay of your entire friend group, it was about him. if didn't count for something, you don't know what did.

"seungcheol, i--" you pause. his eyes are so brown, it's distracting you, and you start to second guess yourself.

"is it about your ex?" he interrupts. "if he asked you to get back with him, would you?"

it's not his question, but his insistence that takes you by surprise.

"n-no." you watch his gaze flicker at your hesitance, and you don't like it. "no, i wouldn't."

"good, because--" he pauses, seeming to gather his thoughts. you try to read his expression, but he can't even meet your eyes right now. "look, i know i haven't had the best track record with dating. i don't even think i know how to date."

"what are you saying?" you ask softly. there's a part of your heart that feels like it's peeling itself back, in a good way.

"i'm saying i want to try." and when you still look confused, he continues. "dating you. if you'd let me."

against all odds, past all the swirling, terrible emotions in your chest, there's a bright surge of relief, of joy. the last time you saw him look so vulnerable was when he reached into his oven to pull out a tray of cookies and burned his hand because he forgot a glove. maybe this whole thing would crash and burn, but you like him enough (honestly more than enough) to try with him.

so you smile, and you watch him frown and pout and look unbearably terrified, and you smile harder.

"ok," you say, playfully feigning indifference. "you can try."

instead of replying, he kisses you again, and it's even better than the first one.

when you finally head out that morning, there's a lightness in your chest.

in the doorway, seungcheol pecks the top of your head before showing you his phone. "which emoji do you want?" he asks, completely seriously. "i want the blue heart."

you pull out your phone to find his contact, which still shows his plain number, just like old times.

"i'm unsaved?!" his jaw drops open like he's animated, and you laugh.

"gotta go," you tease. "see you later."

it's only in the uber home (that he called for you, of course), where you finally put in his real, government name, for the first time. finally, it feels a little more right.

choi seungcheol, it reads. with the blue heart.

[gyusimp]

Can you please write a kenji sato x best friend . Where he is outgoing/ extroverted and the reader is introverted and totally opposite . Like he fell first but she fell harder troupe. Thank youx

°•𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔 [[ᴷᵉⁿʲⁱ ᔆᵃᵗᵒ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᵒⁿᵉ⁻ˢʰᵒᵗ]

3.5k words | No warnings | SFW | Fluff | I have no idea what timeline I wrote this in lol just enjoy it 💖😅

"I finally have an answer to your question" Kenji confessed, smiling as he rested on your bed.

"So, do you know what you're going to give me for my birthday?" You had been joking with that for months.

Remembering over and over again the proximity of your birthday while he avoided the question on purpose or simply answered you “my sincere friendship” as a joke. Today he was visiting your house and you both agreed to meet in person to talk in a more pleasant way while you updated him on your things and he updated you.

"Just close your eyes" he told you, while you obeyed and he asked you to extend your hands to receive your gift.

"Wow, you're not even going to wait for the day to come" you commented smiling.

"Now. You can open them" he pointed at you and you did exactly that. You saw his cell phone in your hands and how it showed the website of a hotel with some numbers and its details written on the screen. It was a reservation for a month from now, right on the weekend of your birthday, to spend it alone at the beach, he knows how much you love it even though you haven't been there that many times, so he wanted to do something more special for you this time than just taking you to the movies or an expensive restaurant.

"I can't believe it Kenji! Are you serious?" You asked, to which he nodded, happy to see your reaction.

You were moved by his nice gesture so you hugged him and thanked him a thousand times while you talked to him excitedly, looking at the photos of the hotel on the beach, right by the sea. Kenji told you that he had even already talked to your parents about it so there was no problem with them, both of them knew Kenji since you became his best friend almost 6 years ago so they can trust him.

Kenji was happy to be able to make you smile like that. He would do anything necessary to always make you smile and let you know how much you mean to him. Things haven't been easy since he realized his feelings for you 2 years ago, keeping what he feels for fear of ruining everything you've built together has been exhausting and frustrating at times, but if keeping that to himself ensures that he can talk to you without any impediment or lose your trust then it was worth it. Sometimes it was still difficult not being able to tell you in a different tone of voice how pretty you look, hug you in a different way and kiss your face whenever he wanted, but it's something he's learned to handle. The following weeks you couldn't stop thinking about the trip, going shopping with him to try on clothes and such until the days were getting closer and now you found yourself doing a video call with him while you both packed your things to leave very early tomorrow.

The appreciation you had for Kenji was very special, both of you used to be different most of the time but maybe that made you complement each other better. You still remember when he was the one who took the initiative to talk to you at university when he saw that you didn't do it with anyone else, most of the time you spent reading, listening to music and avoiding people. You used to get along well with some classmates but it wasn't anything serious compared to him who knew a considerable amount of people on and off campus, he had several girls from different careers behind him and several fans who followed him even at the beginning of his sports career until the day he became a celebrity.

Despite being talkative and louder than the average of the people you usually talk to, there was something about him that you found pleasant and made you trust him, little by little feeling happier when you spent time by his side during breaks and then you started talking about him more often at home until you introduced him to your parents and the rest was history. The two of you were talking and joking on the video call, showing each other the things you packed and picking out your outfits. You loved that he had such a good fashion sense.

“Well, I think I’m done,” he said, taking out his phone.

“Wait, not me. I still don’t know where to put my makeup. Should I put it in the clothes or shoes suitcase?” you asked more to yourself.

"Don’t be exaggerated" he laughed "we’re leaving for a couple of days, not a month. Pack just a lipstick and mascara, i don't know"

"Obviously not, I’ll have to be touching up a lot because of the heat so I have to take everything. See! I almost forgot the sunscreen!"

" It doesn’t matter, I’ll bring one"

"Yes, but mine is tinted, like a foundation" you answered, making him laugh with the details you mentioned.

You talked for a while longer until you told him it was better to go to sleep. He would arrive early for you in his car. The next morning, you ended up falling asleep in the passenger seat while he was driving, your nerves didn’t let you rest well and he insisted that you sleep a little longer on the way when he saw you nod off a couple of times, when you woke up, you would meet at the beach. And so it was, in a couple of hours you were already on your way to the hotel and when you arrived it was more incredible than you imagined, the huge building full of windows and balconies was much bigger than it appeared in the photographs on the website. A lot of palm trees adorned the luxurious entrance of the place towards the reception as you both walked with your things to check in and get the key to your room. Anyone would think you were an excited young couple on their honeymoon.

You entered the room and took the bed you wanted since he let you choose, you placed your suitcases on the bed just like him and you changed your clothes in the bathroom to a cooler one. You called your parents to send them some photos and tell them that everything was fine.

"It's nice, isn't it? I didn't think this place was so big"

"Yes, it's incredible… thank you very much for the gift, it really is something very nice."He smiled when he heard your words and lightly shook the hair on your head.

"It’s nothing, anything for you… "

You two decide to leave the room and walk in and out of the hotel for the rest of the day. Everything is so nice and it’s nice to be able to spend time alone with him in a different way, Kenji can notice how happy you are and he loves the way he manages to make you smile. You are the person who has brought him the most happiness in this stage of his life and thinking about that makes his feelings for you only increase. Sometimes he wonders if he will ever be able to let you know, he is a self-confident person and maybe if the fear of losing you because you don’t reciprocate his feelings didn’t torment him so much, he would have already declared his love for you a long time ago.

After a day of walking around the place, he decides to take you to another part, more secluded from the hustle of the clubs near the docks and the tourism that fills the small place. You walk with him to a private part of the beach within the perimeter of the hotel where you decide to sit and talk, watching the waves and listening to their soft sound, feeling the cool breeze crash against your faces, illuminated by the moonlight and some torches serving as decoration of the hotel. The atmosphere was calm and relaxed, making both of you feel comfortable and confident next to each other.

"Thank you very much for everything Kenji…" He smiled, sweetly.

"I just wanted to do something different for you" You smiled in response, running your hands along your arms at the breeze on your skin. He got closer to you "Are you cold? Do you want me to go get your hooddie?" He asked, as attentive as always.

"No, don't worry, I'm fine. Our things are far away anyway" you thanked him, however, he found it convenient to put his arm around you to make you feel better.

"Well, then I'll have to take care of it myself" he joked as he hugged you, letting you cover yourself in his touch as you sat on the sand.

Silence was present for a few minutes, until your voice rang out again to speak to him. "You know, I also mean, thank you for everything…not just for my gift" you continued, in a soft voice, slightly embarrassed for saying such sentimental things "I've never had a friend so close or that I cared so much about before I met you…you know that it's hard for me to create bonds and such, normally I distance myself from people but, I never felt that need when I'm with you…" Your words made him smile, caressing your arm

"Thank you…I'm glad to know that. I'm also happy to be able to have you in my life. I've never had a best friend before either so it's nice that we complete each other so well…" What he said left you thinking and your chest jumped slightly without fully knowing the reason. You looked in detail at his arm around your shoulders and how close you both were, managing to make you nervous and feeling how your face burned, reminding you of all the times you thought how attractive your best friend is but forcing you to distract yourself with something else. "Yes… you understand me so well that sometimes I still can't believe it. I'm sorry if I say weird things, but you really make me very happy" you said smiling "a long time ago I felt bad and I thought a lot about things that worried me but every time I spend more time with you that anguish goes away…" "And what is it that worries you?" he asked, wanting to know more about you to be able to help you

"It's silly, but… I thought a lot about the consequences of my difficulty to be with people. Sometimes I imagined dying alone or things like that" you laughed embarrassed. Although you were referring more to a couple's company, Kenji had managed to calm the anxiety you had anyway, but you never thought about him seeing you as something more. He is quite affectionate with you, but something more direct would have had to happen for you to realize what he feels for you. "Come on, don't think about it. No matter how far away we are, busy or tired, I'll always be with you, okay? For whatever you need…" "Me too…" you told him, smiling. Kenji pulled you closer to him and both of you were in a soft hug that made your heartbeats and his accelerate.

The moment you let your face rest on his chest and felt yourself surrounded by his hands, an inexplicable warmth flooded your entire being, making you sigh and for some reason stirring up the feelings until you wanted to cry, but not from sadness. You knew that if you were with him everything would always be okay and you wanted to prolong that for as long as possible. Even your whole life, if there was any chance. “You mean so much to me,” he told you, in a low voice near your ear. “You do too, everything, actually.” You answered, putting a smile on his lips and butterflies in his stomach.

The conversation between the two of you changed to more random topics and some jokes between you. However, the way your eyes sparkled when you saw him was different, as if this tender and sincere moment had helped you realize what he truly makes you feel. As the night progressed, you both decided to return to your room, to say good night and rest. You went to bed, the sheets were really comfortable and the softness of the pillows and mattress was unique but despite that you couldn't manage to fall asleep even if you tried. You could feel the weight on your head of having unlocked millions of repressed feelings and thoughts freeing themselves inside you, not knowing what to do or how to act in this new situation. You were lying on the bed, you turned around to get comfortable and you saw him asleep, in the bed in front of you on the other side of the room.

The light was dim coming in through the window but enough for you to appreciate the features of his face perfectly. Did he always have the habit of sleeping without a shirt or did he do it on purpose? You were afraid that he could hear your thoughts as they were so loud inside your head. Eventually you fell asleep, thinking about him. The next day you felt strange, but not in an unpleasant way but as if you felt more nervous, always thinking, do I look pretty? looking at him from time to time with the excuse of seeing something about him, whether or not he had his sunglasses on or what color shirt he was wearing. When he caught you looking at him he smiled at you making you feel embarrassed, using the poor quality of your sunscreen as an excuse in case he happened to notice the blush on your cheeks more than once.

When you both spent some time in the pool it was much worse, you felt the need to see him but acting normal got in the way of your goals. You wanted to hug him and somehow be able to hold his hand so that everyone who saw you together would assume you were a couple. He is open-minded, would he see it as something strange if you dared to do it? Your heart jumped in doubt but again, you decided to let it go for fear of having a moment of embarrassment in front of him. The sunset was beginning to paint the environment a soft pink, he helped you pack your things and carry your suitcases to the car to return to the city. A slight nostalgia filled your chest at having to leave this place, where you had experienced something beautiful with him. A small idea of being able to visit it again and fulfill your wish of walking together hand in hand this time crossed your mind before getting into the car.

The clouds were getting darker on the way, touches of lilac and blue in the sky by the time he was at the entrance of your house opening the car door for you to get out and then the trunk to give you your things. You watched him greet your parents in the living room of your house, both excited to see you two return happily, thanking him for how attentive and thoughtful he was with you always. Seeing the interaction with your family gave you a strong desire to imagine their reactions to the news of you two being a formal couple, that that idea would come to stay in reality but your bubble burst when he suddenly hugged you and said goodbye to you to go back to his house, leaving you with a bittersweet smile on your face, thanking him again for everything he did for you.

And once again you were in your room, staring at the ceiling unable to sleep and when you turned to the side you couldn't see his face like the night before. That your sight collided only with your things in their usual place felt heavy on your chest. What if I tell him? You thought, afraid of ruining your friendship you hid under a stupid excuse of telling him as a way to vent how you felt to someone you trusted instead of a direct confession of your love for him, hoping that deep down you would reciprocate. You thought about this throughout the day as you recognized affectionate gestures from him towards you that left you thinking. The need was felt in each of your heartbeats hoping to be able to talk to him properly tomorrow but time seemed eternal.

You threw the covers off of you and changed your clothes, grabbing a coat and your car keys before leaving the house, to start the vehicle and drive to his house which by the way, was incredibly far from yours, which was an immense relief to see it in the distance as you began to approach until you went up and parked in his driveway. You called him when you got out of the car, expecting him to answer his phone, but when you got to the door, he was already there, having been notified by Mina that you were parking in his driveway. Things unrelated to what was going through your head made him wonder why you were here. Did you forget something in his car? Or did he pack his stuff in your suitcase by mistake? Maybe an emergency had come up? He hoped not. It was almost 11 pm, he usually stays up late sometimes, but he was surprised that you had come here instead of calling or texting him.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is everything okay?” He asked. You quickly said yes, even stopping him from letting you in before you spoke, so as not to lose the momentum that made you come here now.

"Kenji, I… you should know something" your words made him tense but he didn't take his gaze and attention off of you, nervous about what you might say. "These days I realized something extremely important and maybe you'll think it may be stupid or too soon but believe me I've never felt so sure of something, what I want… I know what I want…"

"And what do you want?" he asked, waiting for your answer, with his pulse racing as you approached him.

"You" you said without thinking, maybe deep down regretting having been so direct but it was all or nothing. "I love you Kenji… more than you think, more than just my best friend…"

He was speechless, looking at you in amazement and unable to believe it, he didn't think something so good could happen to him, something he had dreamed of so many times until he found it as something meaningless incapable of coming true. "Of course it's not stupid at all" he told you, approaching you. "Because I feel the same way about you…" you didn’t see his answer coming, his declaration, you felt yourself melting when he took your face with both hands. Your eyes were moistened by so many emotions. "I’ve always felt this way, you’re everything I want, everything I never thought I needed so much. And suddenly it’s been almost two years since I realized how much I’ve been loving you, afraid of ruining things…"

"Two years?" you asked him, with amazement in your voice. You felt like you were almost going crazy these days without being able to show him your affection completely. You couldn’t imagine how frustrating it was for him to keep everything he felt for so long.

"Kenji…" You took his face and caressed it, the distance between you both shortened more and more and without realizing it you let your lips find his to join in a kiss. It was what you had both wanted so much, you could feel all his love and you just hoped that you weren’t too nervous to not be able to show it too.

His lips were warm and soft, his heart leapt with happiness at being able to live this moment after so much, happy to be able to express himself without fear and amazed to receive your confession first in an unexpected way. "I love you, I love you so much…" he answered, kissing your forehead while you kept his hands on your face, taking them carefully.

Now you agreed to go to his house, having too many things to talk about, but now that you could hug him and hold his hand it would be easier for both of you.

[dearestaussiechannie]

☆♡ We're both stressed ♡☆ — Bang Chan

word count: 3.1k

paring: Chan x afab!reader

genre: angst/fluff

warnings: afab!reader, established relationship, crying, stress, mentions of shouting, pet names (sweetheart, sweetie, love), bestfriend!Jisung, stressed!Chan, comfort, if I left anything out lmk, kinda proofread? (sorry!)

It's been a rough couple of months with the comeback and all the stress that comes with it. Wanting to spend more time with Chan but being unable to due to the ungodly amount of hours he's been spending in the studio with Jisung and Changbin. The little amount of time you got to see him while they were preparing for the comeback has now doubled.

That's why right now you're laying on that iconic couch that sits in the studio, mindlessly scrolling through the many socials that you have on your phone. Luckily it's just the two of you inside since Changbin and Jisung had said that they wanted to freshen up with showers or food, leaving the two of you to just be in the others presence, something that the two of you hadn't gotten in weeks.

While you lay there just scrolling on your phone, you see the multiple fan accounts that you follow talking about their comeback announcements. You giggle at the ones about the other members, specifically Jisungs, sending them to him mimicking the comments when you text him. “He’S sO hAwT!?!?” After doing this a couple of times, you keep scrolling and you see the ones about your one and only Chan.

You try your best to hold back your laughs after seeing all the comments about how hot he looks in his new photos, some even cause the laugh to slip only for you to look at Chan to make sure you haven’t disturbed his work in any way. All you can feel is pride that you managed to be the one that he has chosen to be with… that is until you scroll a little further.

Your heart sinks when you find all the ones talking about how his future someone has such large shoes to fill. One stood out the most to you, even though in your best judgement, it shouldn't have. “I bet if he gets someone, she'll be too insecure and cause him way more stress than he needs or wants. Must be sad yk?”

Does Chan know that they say these things about him and his future someone? He must with how much he takes what they say into consideration. But why hasn't he said anything to you about it? Is that maybe what he thinks as well? As thoughts begin to wreck your already oversensitive brain, you stare into the back of his head.

Almost like instinct, you hear a loud huff and the sound of his headphones crashing onto his desk. “You know, I can feel you staring holes into the back of my head Y/N.” He says, running his hand through his dark brown hair, turning in his chair to look at you. You look down when you hear him speak, causing him to sigh softly before rolling the chair closer to you. “Where did the guys go? Thought they were going to the bathroom or something.” “Well, that's kinda what they said.. Han went to get himself something to eat and Bin wanted a shower so god knows what he's doing now since that was 45 minutes ago.”

He lets out a grumble before going back to what he was doing on his laptop, starting to bounce his leg. “Is there something that you need help with?” you ask him before slowly walking over to him causing him to jump and suddenly shut his laptop, before looking up at you with shocked eyes. The sudden motion shocks you to say the least but you just show a sad smile before walking back over to the couch for a few minutes only to leave not soon after to give him the privacy he suddenly seemed like he needed.

About a week has passed since then and you're currently sitting in the dorms with almost everyone for a movie night. The sight still plastered in your brain as if it happened 20 minutes ago, him shutting his laptop and giving you that look. Sighing shakily, you nestle deeper into your spot on the couch between Jisung and Changbin, Chan choosing not to attend the movie saying “he still has too much to work on” or you’d be cuddled up to him like you usually did during these events.

It seems that the two beside you notice your behaviour, looking between each other before Jisung taps your shoulder. “Hey, is everything alright? You seem off.” he asks you, only causing your mind to race worse. You look at him with a small smile before slowly nodding. If he's noticed how you’re acting that means so has everyone else making you do a quick glance over the whole room, seeing everyones eyes locked on the movie that was playing on the screen. “I’m fine Sungie, don't worry that pretty brain of yours and enjoy the movie.” you whisper back to him before silently excusing yourself from the room.

You find yourself in front of his bedroom door, just staring at it. It makes your heart race with your mind as you think about what's on the other side of this door. Your beloved slaving away over his laptop, eyes most likely bloodshot and dry from the hours he spends staring at it. A small flat spot probably pressed into his hair from his headphones, back with an arch that will make him complain that he needs to fix his posture tomorrow and probably the worlds largest bundle of stress.

Before you could stop yourself, you knock. You can hear the sound of his chair moving around before he suddenly swings the door open. He quickly looks you up and down, sighing before his lip twitches up on the left side. “Hello love, why aren't you watching the movie with the others?” He asks you, leaning against the door frame.

Without realising it, you'd been holding your breath. Suddenly you shakily exhale while looking up at his face, eyes scanning his features as if you hadn't seen him in months even though its only been a few hours. It really did feel like it's been that long though. “Oh.. I just wanted to come check on you.. Movie was boring and Jisung kept laughing so loud in my ears.” you lied, that's not really why you were here.

He stepped to the side, allowing you to enter the room before walking over to his chair and closing his laptop again. There it was again, the stinging pain in your chest. Normally if he ever shut his laptop like this, it meant you had his full attention but the past couple of times, it had felt like he doesn't trust you. It hurts.

“Well as you can see I'm fine but you can stay in here if you want to.” he says before turning his back to you, blocking your view of whatever is on his screen and placing his headphones back on. Fine? Is that what you'd call this sight? Because you don't think so. Which causes your next wrong moves. You start insisting that he take a break, use some eye drops, eat or drink something, stand up and stretch, the basic things he should do after sitting at a screen for hours.

The two of you begin to argue about it causing you to raise your voice a little in worry, your own anxiety flowing into the words without you realizing and neither does he. “If you're just going to lecture me and distract me from my work, you're more than welcome to leave.” he says a bit harshly, venom on his tongue. He doesn't even look at you before his fingers start to swim against his keys again, losing all interest in the fact that you, his girlfriend, is standing right there.

Your eyes sting as you walk out, shutting the door a bit harshly, grabbing the others in the living rooms attention. You fly through the room with your head down, not wanting anyone to see your tears, slipping on your shoes and out the front door after quickly grabbing your keys and coat. The others simply look at each other then back in the direction of Chans room.

It's now been two weeks since movie night and your fight with Chan and you aren't answering any texts you get from the members, fearing that it'll only make this pain worse. All you can think about is his voice the way he spoke to you that night. The way hes been acting towards you for whats just barely short of a month. Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the sound of your phone going off the rails. You look down not planning to answer but when the name pops up, your gaze softens. “Sungie Sweetie” is displayed with a silly photo of the boy. You didn’t want to answer but if anyone was as worked up about everything that suddenly happened, it'd be Jisung.

You sniffle as you watch it go to voicemail. The notification “10 missed calls from Sungie Sweetie” displays on the screen for the fifth time today alone. Before you can swipe away the notification, he's calling again. You rub your eyes before you decide to answer. Before you can even get out a hello, you hear his voice crack. “Oh my god you answered! Y/N its Jisung! Do you know how long I've been trying to get you to answer the phone? NO daily memes, no stupid comment mimics in my dms, NOTHING! Where are you? Are you-”

“Ji, you're rambling again.” you say with a small smile even though he can't see it. You can hear his shaky breath, before he begins to whisper. “You haven't answered anyone in days, as your best friend, that's not okay.” he says and you have to fight a giggle. “I’m okay Ji, I just.. Needed some time to myself.” you lie to him which causes guilt to fill your chest. You don't realise but he has the same feeling since he's not telling you the whole truth either.

You see, without your knowledge, you're currently on speaker where not only can Jisung hear you, so can Changbin who is biting his nails. Both of them have been worried sick about you after everyone had assumed you and Chan fought. That thought had been sealed when Chan came out of his room in a rough state, slamming doors and everything else that he opened, glares to everywhere in the dorms as if he's looking for something to soften his gaze on, on you.

Jisung clears his throat before he speaks, “So, when are you coming back over? I’ve got a couple of new games, Bin needs his hype man back, lix needs his taste tester, Minho needs someone to eat the extra food he makes, Seungmin complains that you're not here for him to bully, I.n says that you're the only person in this house that makes him genuinely laugh and Hyunjin has said, and I'm not even playing, ten times that he needs his muse back so he can continue his art.” 

He rambled about everything without even thinking about it, the room now filled by everyone he’d mentioned.  He looked around at everyone with a finger over his lips, signalling them to be quiet but as if they'd even speak, no one knows what to say. “Ji?..” they all hear that shake in your voice causing them all to look around at each other then quickly to him. “Yes love?” he says with no hesitation.

“You didn't… you didn't say Chan..” you say as the tears have begun to fall down your face like a waterfall of hot water. They could all hear you crying, no one knew what to do. You'd always hid your emotions. As their leaders girlfriend, you were just as head strong as he was, never showing what you actually felt unless behind closed doors. “Y/n… Chans been locked in either his room or the studio since you left. Changbin and I haven't been able to set foot in there without getting yelled at..”

The thought of Chan yelling at the people who care most for him saddens you more but it also really pisses you off. Before you even realise what you're doing, you've got shoes on and you're out your front door. The call with Jisung (and everyone else) does not end, it just becomes silent.

About 10 minutes go by and they all think that you've muted yourself for a cry but your voice suddenly rips through the room. “Sungie?” the fearful looks all shift to him as they hear the name, making Minho and I.n fight for their lives not to laugh. He looks at the floor and smiles “yes Y/Nie?” he replies quickly flipping the two now red in the face off.

“Come unlock the door, yeah?”

You're in the kitchen of the dorms as everyone surrounds you whispering so many questions to you but all you can do is look at Jisung and say “where is he?” before he slowly points to the hallway. You scuff as you wipe your nose and shake off your coat, hearing it hit the floor only for someone to pick it up and put it by the door.

Once in the hall, you make it to a door but you don’t knock or announce that you're walking inside, you just do it. “How dare you?” is all you can say before big brown eyes are looking at you. There's emotion in them and you can see the way that they shift from anger to surprise to guilt. He stares at you before slowly standing up, opening his mouth. “Don't you dare speak. I've got things to say, Christopher Bahng.”

“First of all, if your girlfriend leaves your dorm crying because of what you said to her, a decent boyfriend would TRY to follow her out to make sure shes okay. Second, don't EVER let me hear that you've YELLED at them simply because you're in a bad mood because of something you caused. Third, tell me why it's Ji that had to call me 50 times a day for TWO WEEKS to get me to come back. Do you know how much I've longed to see your name pop up on my phone Christopher?” 

By now you're crying without even noticing, your voice just barely above a shout until you realise Chan is staring at the floor. This only causes you to shake with emotion, “look at me!” you say, voice now a desperate shout, whole body shaking, eyes wide once his finally meet yours. You see the emotions switching over and over, the bright red where his eyes should be white, the bags and puffiness and you finally realise the way his whole body is shaking.

“Chan, I..” you start but he quickly cuts you off, his arms engulfing you into him as he pulls you both down to your knees on his bedroom floor, sobs filling the room. His whole body is shaking against you in what feels like frozen time, your hands instinctively finding his hair and rubbing his back as he cries and you do the same. The stress had finally broken the two of you only for you to break in front of the other. 

“Y/N.. I'm so so so sorry. Jisung told me everything when you left two weeks ago but I was so hyper focused on work that I neglected your feelings and noticing how you felt. I have no idea what was going through me or how it affected you but I know that I hurt you the other night when you were simply trying to help. That's why you're my light.” He says as he sobs into your neck, arms tightening around you, afraid you might push him away.

You turn your head towards the door to see the others all in the doorway after hearing you yell at their leader, the strongest guy they know now crying on the floor clinging to his girlfriend for what looked like dear life. When they see you looking at them, they quickly scurry away not wanting to ruin the moment that they all knew you both needed. “Channie.. sweetheart, look at me..” you say to him softly.

The pained look on his face makes your heart shatter as you use your sleeves to gently wipe away the tears that keep falling from his beautiful eyes. No matter how angry you are at him, seeing him like this still causes your heart to shatter into a hundred pieces. You push the wisps of hair out of his face and you let him cry as long as he needs to, feeling him relax after some time taking in deeper breaths.

“Y/n, please let's work through this. I messed up I know but I want to work on it, and if you say no then well I-” hes cut off quickly by your lips pressing into his, both of you letting out a shaky breath as you smile against his lips. “You big idiot.. I love you so much and I know that stress got the both of us, you don't need to apologise to me okay? Because everything that I did was no better.. Now I think we both need to take some time and just relax okay? Nothing but the two of us..”

He nods his head feverishly quick, eyes struggling to stay open, letting out a small laugh when he hears you speak. “You look like your body might crash the second I let you go.” “Can't sleep without you by my side.. Been getting maybe an hour or two of sleep a day.” is all that he can reply with before his eyes are closing lulling him to go to sleep right now.

After some convincing, he's taken a shower and you've changed his sheets, cleaned up all the trash in his room, organised his desk getting him a fresh warm towel and a clean set of clothes, you're both now curled in his bed. There's a movie playing on the tv but neither of you had paid any attention to it, too focused on the weight of being in each others arms.

You're playing with his hair while his head is laying on your chest, eyes closed as he's starting to finally feel his whole body relax, the stress you were both feeling only an hour ago now completely gone. There's a small hum that escapes him causing you to look down at him, met by a sleepy smile.

“I love you, Y/n, so much.”

“I love you too Channie, so much more.”

©️ dearestaussiechannie, all rights reserved.

Taglist: (to be added, comment or message me♡)

[lyrakanefanaticwriting]

Fights and Disagreements - a lyra and grayson fic

——————————————————————————

disclaimer: it is VERY long. i wanted it to be shorter but it ended up being long like all of my other fics, even longer actually, and im sorry if you wanted a short read. ill try and make shorter fics from now on but i just love writing long pieces of work im sorry 😭😭

LYRA:

Lyra knew the words to describe Grayson. Patient, sweet, and protective, even if others didn’t see it. But at the moment, none of those things applied to him.

A week ago, Lyra had confronted Grayson about the fact that she thought he worked too much and rarely had time to spend on himself, let alone her, and he took her thoughts into consideration. He told her that he would to try to cut back on hours. Well, days went by with no change except for the excuse that “work was busy at the moment”, and Lyra started to get impatient. She’d confronted him again on the 6th day of no change, except with 0% patience and a disturbing amount of pettiness. Long story short, it had ended in a fight.

Lyra rounded the kitchen table and turned away from Grayson, words flying out of her mouth as she threw her hands up in the air.

“No change! That’s what I got from you Grayson! God, could you not be selfish for one fucking day in your life?!” She screamed, whirling around as she did. A flicker of anger entered Graysons usually calm eyes as he paced over to her, his hair messy from the amount of times he had ran his hands through it.

“I’m being fucking selfish? You haven’t even stopped to consider that maybe I’m working this hard because I’m actually fucking busy!” He shouted back. Lyra was taken aback. She had never heard Grayson shout that loud, let alone barely shout, and he didn’t seem to noticed when her back hit the kitchen island. Instead, he walked closer, his chest heaving. “Work has been stressful enough, Lyra, and I don’t need it fucking up my home life too!” With that last sentence, Grayson threw his hands up in the air, and a breath caught in Lyra’s throat as she did something she never thought she’d ever do in Graysons vicinity. She flinched, throwing her arms over her head. Once she realized she’d done it, her eyes widened and she slowly put her arms back to her side. Looking up, she saw Graysons wide eyes and shocked expression, as he’d stopped yelling.

“Lyra-“ He tried to say, guilt etching his features, before Lyra cut him off.

“Get out.” She said, her voice barely a whisper. She didn’t know where out was, but she just wanted him somewhere away from her right now. And she really didn’t want to cry in front of him, or go to sleep in the same bed as him. Grayson stayed silent for a few moments, before speaking again.

“Lyra, what?” He says, his tone confused. He tries to speak again, before Lyra cuts him off again.

“Get. Out.” She said, her voice quiet again but brimming with intensity. Grayson held her gaze for about 5 seconds, a swarm of emotions stuck on his face, before suddenly stomping off. Lyra wouldn’t let a single tear fall until she heard that door close, and once she did, she slid to the floor, sobs racking her chest. Her eyes caught her phone on the island table, and, without thinking, she pulled herself up, and dialed a number. The line was ringing for about 4 seconds, until the girl on the other end of the line picked up.

“Hello?” Avery said. Lyra swallowed, before speaking.

“I changed my mind. I think I will be able to be apart of your girls hang out night.”

GRAYSON:

The only thing that Grayson had on him as he stormed out of the house that he and Lyra had moved into was his phone and car keys, which could only do so much. Anger almost took hold of him, until he had remembered the way Lyra flinched when he raised his arms, and all that anger had been smothered by drowning guilt. Did she think that he would hurt her? Allow himself to lay even a single finger on her? The truth was, Grayson never would. But still, she thought that in a fit of anger, he would. Grayson was disgusted with himself. He tried to think back to the argument, tried to think back to where it all went wrong, but all he could hear was Lyra calling him “fucking selfish”, and that anger rose again.

Grayson pulled open his car door, sat inside, and slammed it shut, starting the car and pulling out of the driveway without thinking of where he was really going. Maybe he could book a hotel. Or just stay at a cafe/restaurant for a bit and figure things out later. But instead, his hand found his phone, and without thinking, he texted the groupchat with him and his brothers in it. No words, but instead, 3 numbers.

911.

LYRA:

When Lyra knocked on the door of Libby’s little house that she and Nash lived in, she knew how she looked. She could barely see herself in the reflection of some of her glass flower pots, and what she saw was a sniffling girl with red eyes and mascara streaks running down her cheeks. When Libby opened the door with Max and Avery by her side, her grin was smothered.

“Lyra..” Libby said, her voice soft. She looked like she was going to continue as she searched Lyra’s face with concern, but Lyra interrupted, wiping her eyes with her hand as she spoke with the most normality she could muster up.

“So, can we watch that movie you guys were talking about?”

Lyra had been watching some random romcom for 20 minutes, meanwhile her mind had been preoccupied on something else. On the fight. She was going to continue to watch-but-not-watch the movie, when Max stood up and paused it.

“OkayIcan’ttakethisanymore.” She rushed out in one breath as she stood up and turned to Lyra, her hands on her hips. “What the fax happened to you?” Lyra looked down when Avery and Libby looked at her expectantly. She could beat around the bush, but she wasn’t in the mood for it.

“I got in a bad fight with Grayson.” Lyra mumbled, wiping her cheeks that still had some mascara smudged on them. She wanted to leave it at that, but the expectant look on the girls’ faces didn’t falter even once.

“And? What did he do?” Avery asked her. Lyra sighed, before explaining what happened start to finish.

“Cheezits, he sucks. Should I punch him in his cheekbones the next time I see him?” Max immediately asked as soon as she stopped explaining. The question was so sudden and unexpected that Lyra choked out a laugh sob, before speaking.

“No need, Max. It’s not all his fault. I mean, I acted rashly and just went straight to screaming but..” Lyra’s brow furrowed as she recalled the fight. “He barely even tried to hear me out. Does he know that I’ve barely even seen him this past month?” Emotion creeped into Lyra’s voice, before she shook her head and picked at her nails. Libby took her hand in hers and smiled at Lyra softly.

“I know that fights with spouses are hard, but I promise you, you will look back on this moment and see something to learn from, even if you weren’t much in the wrong.” Libby said, gently. Lyra smiled softly at her, but her heart still felt heavy. She loved Grayson. So. Damn. Much. And it felt like stabbing pins in her chest to be away from him for this reason. But maybe some space to clear her head was good.

“I actually don’t really want to talk about this,” Lyra said, smiling softly. “But can we continue watching the movie?” Max barely waited for her to finish her sentence before she took off towards the kitchen.

“Snacks time!” She cheered.

GRAYSON:

By the time Grayson had shown up at the front gates of Hawthorne House, all his brothers were there already. He had heard that Nash was staying there because Libby wanted to have a girls night, but Jameson and Xander had probably came in the time it took for him to drive there. Grayson walked in the front gates with an eerily empty feeling inside him to be away from Lyra. Already he could feel a pit in his stomach, just thinking about going home to a possible empty house. To sleeping alone, without her body wrapped around his. What did it matter that he was angry? He hurt her, and in doing so hurt himself too. His thoughts were interrupted by Xander speeding down the halls and hurling himself at Grayson. Luckily they were on carpeted floor, otherwise Grayson would have gotten some sort of head trauma.

“Thereeee is my darlingggg brothe- oh.” Xander said, starting with a yodeling sing-song voice before returning to his normal tone as he studied Grayson’s face. “You’re looking a little rough there, Gray.” A little rough was an understatement. Not only was Grayson working himself to the bone and getting no sleep, which was why he had such vicious under eyes, but he was also exhausted from his fight with Lyra. His hair was a mess, and Grayson was sure he looked like one too.

“Anyways,” Xander said, shaking off the awkwardness of the moment before with a grin. “The festivities are in the Great Room.”

Grayson successfully managed to wipe off the remaining bit of whipped cream on his shoulder, which was caused by Jameson, who was ruthless with the amount of pies he threw, as he raised a brow at Xander.

“Were the pies really necessary, Xan?” Grayson asked him. Xander grinned before nodding, shoving another spoon in his 3rd pie so far. Grayson felt more at ease than he had hours before, but the fight dawned on him again and suddenly the empty feeling came again. Nash leaned forward, capturing Graysons gaze with his own.

“Now it’s time to tell us what’s goin’ on, Gray. You didn’t call this 911 for no reason. Last time you did, it was because you were hurting,” Nash drawled, flicking a speck of whipped cream off his arm before meeting Graysons eyes again. “You hurting again?” Grayson wanted to say no. Wanted to come up with some fake problem. But then the memory of Lyra throwing her arms up over her head hits him again, and, without meaning to, Grayson placed his hands over his face, covering his eyes. It was a pain he’d never experienced before, that kind of heart break where you wish you could go back in time and change your actions. If he shouted less loudly. If he actually took consideration to her words and took a break, even if his job needed him. If he would finally do the right thing. He wanted nothing more than to melt into Lyra’s skin, to hold her soft hair in his hands, to fall asleep with her in his arms.

But some things were easier said than done.

Suddenly, two hands were prying the ones off his face, and Grayson found himself face to face with Jameson.

“What is it? Something to do with Lyra? Did your poor PI finally break and quit?” Jameson asked him, taunting Grayson for the fact that he tended to have 0 patience when it came to Zabrowski. At the mention of Lyra’s name, Grayson lowered his head, squeezing his eyes shut to prevent the tears from coming. Luckily, he had been able to turn off his ability to cry since he was little, lest the old man saw him.

“So it is Lyra.” Jameson said again, raising a brow. Grayson opened his eyes, looked back up at Jameson, and that’s when the words started flowing out of his mouth.

Grayson closed his mouth, finally done explaining, and his brothers stayed silent for a few moments. That was, until Jameson decided to speak.

“Maybe we should start a go fund me for Lyra.” He said, narrowing his eyes at Grayson. Nash elbowed him and sent him a warning look, before turning to Grayson.

“I’m not gonna lie Gray, you thoroughly fucked up,” Nash drawled, the words still somehow coming out brotherly. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t make it right. You can stay for a few hours more, or for the night, whatever pleases ya, but you should get back to try and apologize, even if you weren’t fully in the wrong.” Jameson made a face at that last part.

“So, are we lying to him now?” Jameson said. Nash looked like he was about to throttle him, but Grayson just snorted. Honestly, he needed the humour after this depressingly serious night.

“Ooh!” Xander suddenly butted in, a grin on his face. “If you’re staying the night, then that means we can have a movie marathon!” A ghost of a smile touched Graysons face, but he shook his head.

“I’ll stay for maybe another 30 minutes, but afterwards I should be getting back. I’ve been here for long enough, and I think I’m ready to talk things out with Lyra.” He said. He felt almost giddy at the thought of being able to come face to face with her again, even though she’ll probably hate him for hurting her. Nash nodded, before speaking.

“You do that,” He said, with a smile. “And you have to stay and help us clean up the mess we made with the pies anyway.” Grayson smiled back, his heart feeling significantly lighter.

LYRA:

Lyra said goodbye to the girls before getting in her car and driving off. But then she thought about coming home to an empty house and her heart twinged with sadness again. Would Grayson come home some time in the night? Would he sleep on the couch and be gone in the morning? Or would he stay somewhere else for the night? Lyra didn’t know.

She parked in the driveway of her house, before getting out of the car and unlocking her front door. She stepped inside, listening for any movement or sounds, and felt disappointed when she didn’t hear any. Going to her room, well, hers and Graysons room, she stripped off her clothes and put on her pjs, exhaustion slowing her movements. Going to her vanity, she brushed through her hair, and that’s when she heard it. The front door opening.

Lyra’s heart jolted, both with surprise and excitement to see Grayson again tonight, until she remembered that she was supposed to be mad at him. She sat down at the vanity and took off all her jewelry, ignoring Graysons pursues around the house for her. When he stepped into the bedroom, Lyra had to hold herself back from turning to face him. She just continued to take off her necklaces, taking longer than she should and setting them on her jewelry holder neatly. Grayson just stared at her from behind, before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry.” He said. That almost broke the floodgates, and Lyra had to hold herself back from jumping into his arms and letting him carry her to bed. She needed him to first recognize what he’d done, and then maybe there would be time for jumping in his arms.

“What for?” Lyra said, pettiness and anger tinging her tone. Grayson came beside her chair and knelt to his knees, and although Lyra knew it was so that he could get to her height, there was still a part of her that thought he was getting on his knees to beg. There was still a part of her that felt giddy at the thought.

“I’m sorry for not taking time off from work when you asked. I’m sorry for ignoring your suggestions when you first came to me about them. I’m sorry for ever letting you think I would hurt you. I will never hurt you Lyra, and I will not ever let today happen again.” He said. Lyra froze. She’d expected an apology, but she hadn’t expected… that. The truth was, she didn’t think that Grayson would actually hurt her on purpose. She thought that in a fit of anger, his thrown-in-the-air arms would hit her and he wouldn’t notice. It was what he said that hurt her more. She still didn’t look at him, but finally spoke.

“So, you’ll change?” She asked him.

“Yes.” The words flying off his tongue. Lyra felt satisfied by how fast the answer came. Finally turning to look at him, she raised a brow at him, a mild look of anger still on her face.

“I hope you at least missed me on your workaholic month.” She said, raising a brow at him to answer. He stood straighter, his pupils growing larger once she met his gaze.

“I did.” This answer came just as quick as the last, almost like he had been waiting, dying to finally talk to her. Then, he picked her up off the chair and hugged her, holding her tight in his arms. “So damn much.” Lyra’s heart fluttered as Grayson wrapped his arms around her lower back and held her close, digging his head into the space between her neck and shoulders. Lyra was quick to return the hug, squeezing her eyes shut as she melted onto him, her feet dangling in the air.

Some moments didn’t require any words. Sometimes, all you could do was hold each other and breathe.

——————————————————————————

[sunelia]

NANAMI X READER: Soft Morning

pairings: nanami kento x gn!reader

cw: gender neutral reader - suggestive at the end - fluff

synopsis: Life with Nanami is simple, gentle, and as warm as a sunrise. He is a trustworthy, generous, and very caring partner, and is even a more dedicated one since your wedding. This event of a lifetime sealed your love and despite the ups and downs of life, made you appreciate the most innocent moments together like a soft morning.

word count: 800

Weekends are a particularly sacred time for Nanami and I. It's a secret moment between our souls, finally reunited after a week at work, a night out with friends, or just spending time recharging all alone. Weekends give us the opportunity to relax and spend quality time together without having to worry about anything. Even though we are married, we still learn new things about each other. We take time to admire, touch, and get to know each other better.

Usually, we spend our weekends at our apartment or outside doing little trips or dates. Today we decided to stay cozy in bed and enjoy each other's warmth. We cherish these sweet moments when the light of the sunrise streams into the room through the blinds. The sun brushes over our shoulders, keeping us warm and providing energy for our plants in the back corner of the room. I usually wake up before Nanami and either stay on my phone or read a book, waiting for him to wake up. He always lies on his stomach like a starfish. His body takes up a considerable amount of space on the bed however, I have the awesome ability to use his back or legs as pillows...I also have more room to cuddle.

A few strands of blond hair were covering his face. His right arm was resting under his pillow, while his left arm was spread all over the bed. The soft light of the sunrise cast a few honey-colored highlights on his hair and skin. His face seemed relaxed, his torso rising and falling calmly. He looks so vulnerable and adorable in this position. His white t-shirt was slightly pulled up, contrasting with his blue pajama pants. I wouldn't change anything for this view. I close my book, place it on the bedside table, and position myself on the side so that I'm facing his face. I cannot help but remove the few strands of hair that covers his face so that I can stroke his cheek and kiss his nose gently. This simple gesture woke him up. He slightly opens his eyes and turns around to face me. He rested his head on his hand while the other grabbed my waist and pulled me as close to his body as possible. His face was only inches from mine. He smiled at me, taking the time to look at me while gently stroking my waist with his hand.

"Good morning, sweetheart.” he said in his half-awaked voice as he hugged me and kissed my forehead.

"How did you sleep?" I asked.

"I slept very well, knowing we were starting our weekend," he said with a laught. He continued, "Have you been up for a while?"

"Just for half an hour, I took the opportunity to read a chapter of my book and watch you sleep."

He teased, "Are you watching me sleeping?"

I nonchalantly put my hand all over his face and gently pushed it.

"Not that I like you, but I just wanted to see if you were breathing properly, that's all." I replied, blushing nervously.

He smiled. Outwardly, Nanami seemed to be reserved and impassive. In reality, there's a funny, teasing, compassionate man hiding beneath this facade.

"I love you too.” he replied, hugging me.

I took the time to close my eyes and enjoy the moment that united our affection. It's comforting to be with Nanami because I feel loved and safe. One of his hands continued to softly stroke my back, while the other caressed my cheek. I couldn't help but smile at the sight of this delicate moment. I opened my eyes again and took the initiative to plant a kiss on his lips. From that moment on, our eyes never left each other's.

As if caught in a hurry, Nanami kissed me in return. This kiss was stronger and reflected a greater desire. As we continued to exchange sweet kisses, he slowly positioned himself on top of me. His hands wandered over my neck, my face, and then my hips. I held his face with both hands to deepen the kiss. My legs were wrapped around his waist, and his hand began to explore my body under the fabric that covered it. We were out of breath and stopped for a moment. Both his and mine were filled with lust. All it took was one look to continue our make-out session and enjoy this intimate moment together. The loving touches and kisses became more and more intimate, leaving our bodies hot. The only sounds coming from the room were soft moans and sloppy kisses.

"My love, do you want to carry on?" He asks.

"Y-yes," I replied.

He smiled, stood up, and took off his shirt. The sun caressed his peach skin, his face was full of love and passion, making me want to cherish this sweet morning together more.

hope you guys enjoyed it!

Line divider ”Morning” by cafekitsune

sunelia

[sports-on-sundays]

Hello! Could I request something with Marc Guiu where he is smitten by reader who is two years older than him. She also live abroad. And she doesn't stop saying no to Marc to get into a relationship but Marc is adamant and wants to prove her that they can work a relationship together.

Like reader is studying in uni, having her own problems and doesn't want to add a long-distance relationship on top of those things.

Thank you! And I want to say that I really appreciate reading whatever you write.

Giving you a lot of hugs and hoping that you get your inspiration back 🥰

ready when you are / Marc Guiu

Summary: Marc x female!reader - Marc can't get you off his mind. You wish you could get him out of your face.

Warnings: suggestion of depriving oneself of proper self care

Requested?: Yes!

Author's Note: You're literally a lifesaver; thanks so much! Also, I made this a little bit more romantic and emotional than your request suggested, but do you really expect any different from tumblr user sports-on-sundays?!

Sometimes you think that giving Marc Guiu your number was the biggest mistake of your life.

You know it sounds mean, and it's not that you don't like Marc. He's funny; you enjoy chatting with him.

The only thing you did not realise, though, when you gave him your number, was that the boy is smitten by you.

He's stuck on you.

You just thought it'd be kind of cool. You know, you have the opportunity to stay in touch with Marc Guiu. Not world class or anything, but you're a Barcelona girl. It was just a cool idea.

Now, just as you're slipping under your quilt to shut your eyes for some sleep, nearly halfway across from Marc Guiu, in the United States of America (it was a treat to spend a lot of time here), you suddenly, to your dismay, hear your phone vibrating on the end table.

You roll over to snatch it up in annoyance, and sigh even louder when you see it's Marc trying to face time you.

You blow air out through your lips before sitting up and answering, immediately saying, "Is it not, like, 4:00 or 5:00 in the morning there?"

"It's 6:00 A.M.!" the guy beams, his brown eyes sparkling. "You said you didn't want me calling at 9:00 A.M. anymore, since that's like 3:00 A.M. for you, and I'm waking you up in the middle of the night. So I woke up early so I could call you now!"

"Marc," you groan. "It's 12:00 A.M. here! I was just about to go to sleep! Let me make this clear- calling me in the morning for you is off-limits."

His smile very swiftly turns upside, and he almost looks hurt, which immediately fills you with a considerable amount of guilt. "Sorry," he murmurs. "I just wanted to talk to you."

You sigh. Yeah, because you're mad in love with me, you can't help thinking to yourself. You decide not to say it, and inside respond, "I know. It's fine. Don't worry about it."

"Why were you going to bed at 12:00 A.M. anyway? You should be getting more sleep than that... did you not say once you have to wake up at 5:00 A.M....?"

"Oh, Marc," you click your tongue. "With all I've got going on, the last thing I'm worried about is getting enough sleep. I'm holding up two jobs, and having to study, and everyday I give myself at least some time for exploring and travel."

"How do you do all it?" he suddenly asks.

You shrug. "I like living like this. But health isn't my concern like it is yours. We have different priorities. And yours shouldn't be ridding yourself of sleep by waking up early to talk to me, hm?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure..."

"Now, was there something you want to tell me?"

Through the screen, across the world, you can still see the tenderness in his eyes for you. His soft spot for you that's getting just a tad bit dangerous. "No, not really... Just wanted to... hear your voice, I guess."

"Oh... Oh."

"Yeah," he clears his throat. "I guess I just miss you..."

Despite everything, and the fact that you were determined to keep this to yourself, seeing Marc so open now about this still pushes the words out of your mouth as you say, "Well, Marc... My contract ends soon, which means I'll probably be coming home back to Barcelona for my next semester... After that, though, I've got plans for France... But at least that's closer, right? And you've got me for one semester."

You don't like how 'you've got me' sounds. And you know you shouldn't have said it.

Can't give this boy any more false hope than what he already has.

"Oh!" his eyes brighten, and his mouth tilts up once again. "Seriously! I'm so excited to see you again, then!"

You chuckle. "Y- Yeah, me too. Now, can I go to bed and get a few hours of sleep in?"

"Haha! Whoa, Marc, hold your horses, mate!" you laugh as he practically jumps into your arms for a hug, causing you to drop all your bags on the airport floor. "Just because I'm older than you doesn't mean you're not bigger and stronger!"

He grins, pulling away, and immediately scoops up all your bags for you. "I've already got a cab. Come on. I'll bring you to your flat and help you unpack!"

There's not much you can do to deter the Spanish boy, and once you're in your flat, all unpacked, you two plop on the couch. You sigh in relief as you say, "Feels good to be home!"

"Feels good to have you home, Y/n," Marc pipes in.

Even though you really don't want him to think you're interested, some of the little things he says never fail to make you smile, and feel warm inside.

Whether you want it or not, being loved feels good.

But then he slips his hand in yours. "So, the United States. That was the longest you've been away. Did you miss me as much as I missed you?"

"Probably not as much," you tease truthfully, "and we did face time pretty much every single moment you could. But, yeah, I missed seeing you in 3D."

He grins, and reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind your hair, asking softer, "So... are you ready to date me yet?"

You lick your lips. You knew this would come, sooner rather than later. You sigh. "Marc, you know my answer." You begin to slip your hand away.

He grabs it back, and brings it to his chest. Now he's looking at you earnestly. "Please, Y/n..." His happy demeanor has quite suddenly turned almost desperate. "I know we can make this work..."

"Marc, I'm not going to be in a long-distance relationship like that."

He frowns, squeezing your hand tighter, looking you right in your eyes. "We already have a long-distance friendship. Why not a little more than that?"

"That requires more emotional involvement. My heart just can't take that. I can't be getting into relationships like that at this point in my life. Maybe someday, I can settle down and find someone. But you know I'm born to run, Marc..."

He looks down. Wraps your hand in both of his and rests it in his lap. "But we'll both be better off. I can make this work. Just give me a chance. Let me prove it."

"You're eighteen. You should be focused on your own things, like football, and your career, just like I'm focused on my own things, like travelling and studying for college. You shouldn't let yourself care so much about me, Marc," you speak gently, almost soothingly. "Please, please don't find your happiness in me. I'll fail you. You mustn't find perfection in imperfect people."

"But you're perfectly imperfect, just like me. Broken, like me, and I love you for these things..." he looks up again.

"Oh, Marc," you barely whisper, staring into those eyes. "Please don't ever say you love me. It's not good for either of us."

"But I do-"

"Marc," you say, sterner. "With everything else I have on my plate, and with everything else I'm chasing after, I can't give myself to you like that. Not right now. We're both so young, you even younger than me. I'd rather see you as a younger brother than anything else-"

"But Y/n-"

"Let's just be friends, okay?"

He sighs deeply. He doesn't nod, because he doesn't want it. But instead he leans in, resting his head against your shoulder, and wraps his arms around your body.

You sigh as his warmth is spread to you.

"Well, I'll enjoy you while you're here, and call often you when you're off to France. And you could run away and go wherever in the world you want, but please. Please always come back to Barcelona. Please always come back to me. Because I'll always be waiting here for you. And I'll be ready whenever you are. Ready for you whenever you're ready for me."

[warping-realities]

Keeping Up With Old Friends (by the best of all @dumb-and-jocked & @callmecallmecrazy

It's a great pleasure to make images for this collaboration between two of my favorite authors. I had permission from both of them to do this and I spent a considerable amount of time trying to be up to par with their work, I don't know if I managed it but I still hope it's to your liking.

“Phil? Is that you?” Geoff could’ve sworn the man in front of him was an old classmate of his, having been lab partners their freshman year. The two had connected fairly well, with Geoff having hung out with the free-thinking, pot-smoking, curly-haired flower child a lot more than he thought he would. Except, scruffy and shaggy Phil was replaced with tailored-beard and straightened-locks Phil. Not only that, but his usual oversized hoodie and sweats had been replaced with a properly fit tee and jeans.

“Geoff! Hey man, how’s it going.” His voice was still the same lively and flamboyant pitch that it had always been. Phil met his friend in a hug over the cash register, squeezing Geoff a little harder than he had been prepared for.

“Surprised to see you here,” Geoff half-joked, knowing that the old Phil would never come close to a shopping mall, let alone a department store. If the job wasn’t so easy and the pay wasn’t so good, Geoff wouldn’t have ever entered either. Too bad college was so expensive.

“Ha! Yeah man, turns out they have some good stuff! Plus, it’s close to where I live.”

“Oh, did you finally move out of the dorms?”

“Yeah, I moved into the Kappa Sigma Alpha house.” The big smile he offered was met by a wide-eyed stare from Geoff. Phil was a free spirit, one who practically came out of the ‘60s. Last they’d talked, he’d been planning on living at an eco-friendly miniature house, certainly not at “prespter-prick incorporated”.

“What happened to living green?”

“Ya know, I wanted a change.” Phil shoved his hands into his pockets. “Plus, college loans are really bringing me down. I needed to save some money and fast. My uncle got me an in with the fraternity; he’s an alum.”

“Aren’t they, like, totally pretentious?” Geoff countered. “We used to joke about those preppy freaks and their smug arrogance.” 

Phil frowned, his expression made it seem as if he’d taken personal offense.

“Hey man, they’re cool. After my uncle had pointed out that I was a legacy, I got headhunted by the rush chair.  I’m not one of those over-confident princes having yacht parties and spending time at the country club.” Geoff’s tense muscles eased a little, causing Phil to smile. “I don’t think they do that kinda stuff anymore anyway.”  

He glanced at his phone, and then back at Geoff. Getting the message, Geoff quickly processed his items and had Phil pay. He was surprised to see Phil was buying more normal clothes. Cheap, standard tops and bottoms that were neither flamboyant or tame: just generic.

“Hey man, great seeing you,” Phil concluded the conversation politely. “Maybe we’ll hang out sometime? I gotta get back to the house!”

Geoff watched Phil walk out, noticing how well he filled out his jeans. The Phil he knew had been a short, skinny beanpole, similar to Geoff’s height but with less pudge. However, the new Phil’s buttocks had developed a sort of plumpness, just barely curving the pants out awkwardly as he walked away. 

“That was so strange,” Geoff said aloud, but he assumed that people changed. Phil seemed happy and healthy, and as long as he was saving money Geoff was happy for him. Maybe he always wanted to join a frat?

For the rest of his shift, Geoff continued thinking about the peculiar interaction, but by the end of the day he was too exhausted to think about anything. Once he had gotten back to his dorm, he lethargically changed and jumped into his bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

— —

“Phil? Is that you?” The big man standing in front of the counter didn’t exactly physically resemble Phil. He was fairly big at about 5 ‘10 (a few inches taller than Phil) and the Henley shirt he wore couldn’t hide the beginnings of bulging pecs. And his hair, last time uncoiled but still at shoulder-length, was sheared down, pushed up, and shiny from cheap gel. The face was still the same, even though the hair made his face look a little square.

The young man looked back at Geoff confused for a moment before a tinge of understanding glittered in his eyes.

“Geoff Elliot,” his voice was noticeably slower and deeper than last time. While Geoff went in for a hug, Phil replied with a one-armed embrace and pat on the back. He practically grimaced when Geoff attempted for more affection.

“Phil! Man, it’s been awhile. I haven’t seen you since your last time here.”

“Yes, Geoff, I’ve been very busy with school. And please, call me Phillip, it’s more traditional.”

“Wow, still living with the Kappa Sigmas?”

“Yes, I’ve been acquainting very well. What about you, Geoff?”

“Oh ya know, I’m still in old Walker. It isn’t great, but it’s definitely got a sweet spot in the middle of campus.”

“Living comfortably?”

“Ha, you know I’m not.”

“I can tell,” Phillip noted Geoff’s pale skin and tired eyes. Geoff was taken aback by the outright disdain.

“Well, I’ve got to work if I want to get a degree.” Phillip just nodded, causing Geoff to carry the conversation. “You’re looking good. Do the Kappa Sigmas expect gym time?”

“Yes,” Phillip’s stern demeanor dropped a touch, allowing a bit more levity in his voice. “There’s an expansive gym at the country club. It’s free and they even give you a few hours a day to use it!” 

He was practically giddy as he talked, allowing Geoff to relax a bit. This was the Phil he knew, chirpy and friendly though now not as exceptionally outgoing. And if Geoff was being honest, Phil seemed extremely content with his new situation. 

“Have you picked up any sports? It seems like you’ve got the bod now,” Geoff joked, knowing that Phil hated physical activity. He playfully slapped one of Phil’s broad shoulders and was shocked at how firm the muscle was.

“I’ve been doing a lot of golf! I play with several of the other guys and even some of my uncle’s coworkers. I’m getting my handicap down too.”

“Oh, you’re playing golf?” Geoff hadn’t expected an answer, but if one came he would’ve guessed football or baseball–not golf.

“Yes, it’s very enjoyable. And great for business bonding. Chance for us men to talk about the frat, women, sports and the like. Say, you watch the game last weekend?”

That was wholly unlike Phil, but Geoff guessed he was probably throwing himself into the fraternity world.

“Nah, man, I’m not into basketball.”

“It’s football season.” His reply was so direct and unvarnished that Geoff had to grip the counter for support. “I know not everyone is into the NFL, but I assumed you would at least watch like any other man. And our team is having an exceptionally great season. 4-0 in conference play.”

Phillip kept talking about football as Geoff stared deep into his eyes. Was this really Phil? The guy used to pretend like he didn’t know what sports were. What was happening to him?

“Anyway, Geoff, it’s been great catching up,” Phillip said, dumping his items onto the register. Geoff was surprised to notice that Phil was purchasing only name brand items. Not expensive, but not generic either. “Maybe we can grab some beers and watch a game sometime.” 

Phillip hastily paid for all of his items and walked out. Geoff couldn’t help but notice the increasingly larger derrière. His buttocks had developed a shelf-like quality, curving the cheap khakis out as he walked away. Its slight jiggling motion was a stunning contrast to the hard muscle covering the rest of his body.

“Yeah, great to see you Phil-lip,” Geoff forced out the last syllable. This was not the Phil he knew, but instead some dude named Phillip. Geoff continued on with the rest of his shift, the interaction slipping from his mind at the end of the day when he collapsed into bed.

— —

“Phil? Is that you? I mean, Phillip?” Geoff had hoped he wouldn’t see him again after their last encounter, but when he saw this barely-familiar-looking man his curiosity got the best of him. He told himself it was all in his head, but everything about these encounters were disturbing. Geoff wasn’t sure if it was steroids as his former buddy’s growth seemed extremely quick, but it could’ve just been the sudden makeover too. What was even crazier was the man next to him was somehow larger.

This Phillip was 6’4 and wore a baby blue oxford button-up with a yellow and blue striped repp tie. The shirt looked ready to burst as it was tight against the two firm mounds sticking out of the young man’s chest. On top of the set was a two-button navy blazer with the letters KE on the left side, which Geoff assumed stood for Kappa Sigma. His hair was much different, for the overgrown shag was now neatly cut, with short sides and tapered across the crown. The ivy league was sharply parted on the left side and held sturdily in place by an expensive looking pomade. Not only had his hair transformed, but his face had undergone a dramatic change too. His jaw, formerly a little pointed and sharp, spread wide and hung low, giving his face a distinguished lantern shape to match his newly-cleft chin. 

This Phillip stood ramrod straight while searching through a rack of new suits from Brooks Brothers. The man next to Phillip was older but otherwise nearly identical. He was thicker around the middle, but any gut he might have was hidden by the extremely high rise of his pants, sitting above his belly button just under the rib cage. His tie was black and grey with a subtle windowpane pattern, and his suit shared a similar palette.

The other man stared at Geoff for a moment before tapping Phillip on the shoulder.

“Pierson,” his voice was slow and deep. “I believe this boy is trying to get your attention.” 

The younger man turned towards the counter to see Geoff. A faint bit of recognition crossed his face momentarily.

“Geoff Elliot.” The voice was practically monotone, low and deep. He took a few powerful steps forward and offered a large, coarse handshake.

“Uncle,” Phillip turned to face the older man. “This is a friend from college, Geoff Elliot. Geoff, this is my uncle.” He gestured robotically between the two. The uncle offered his hand and it was the same rough shake.

“Nice to meet you…” Geoff sort of trailed off, hoping to get a first name.

“John Howard Johnson.” The reply was colorless. “Mr. Johnson will do.”

“Alright,” Geoff simply replied. “So, Phillip-”

“Please call me Pierson,” Phillip said curtly. “My uncle thinks I would be better suited professionally as Pierson.” The way he spoke, extremely even in both rhythm and pitch, was unnerving.

Geoff could make out some of Phil’s features in the hulking face before him. An upturned nose and naturally thin eyebrows over wide eyes resembled the Phil he knew. But the rest of the face clearly belonged to this cocky fratboy named Pierson.

“Okay, Pierson. So, any news about Greek Life?”

“I am very happy with the Kappa Sigmas. Life there is perfectly preppy.”

“That’s great. Glad to hear you’re doing good!”

“Yes, my uncle believes after college I will be an ideal candidate for his company, Hemplebaum Inc..”

“That place downtown with office drones filling foreclosures and manipulating bank accounts?”

“Correct,” Pierson stated blatantly.

“Huh, okay.” Geoff was getting sick of this conversation, and of this act. There was obviously something going on here, so he decided to just ask about it flat out.

“How long are you going to keep this up, Phil?”

“Pierson.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Geoff retorted. He knew it probably wasn’t best to argue with customers during his shift, but this was more important than a job. “How are you willing to sell your soul to some frat? We used to joke about these guys! Can’t you see something is wrong?”

“I’m offended by your tone, Geoff. And honestly,” he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves while disgustingly eyeing Geoff’s uniform. “I grew up. You could do with some growing.”

“You’ve grown into a mindless fratboy.”

“And you, Geoff, are still a child. We ‘mindless fratboys’ are very well groomed and dressed. We speak with clarity and courtesy, and are diligent and helpful. We truly represent the apex of manhood.”

“Pierson,” Mr. Johnson suddenly interrupted the argument. Pierson stiffened up and faced his uncle. “I’m glad you had this chance to catch up with your acquaintance, but we have wasted time.”

“Of course, Uncle.” 

They turned to leave, but Pierson swiftly reached into a blazer pocket and pulled out a thick black card. 

“If you ever decide to grow up.” Pierson placed it on the register before he and his uncle left, giving Geoff a good look at their backsides. Despite the broad shoulders and bulging pectorals, both had a distinctly pear shaped body, with wide hips and massive butts that shook just a touch as they walked. Pierson’s rump was especially luscious, bouncing around inside those tight, pastel madras shorts. It gave Geoff a boner as he watched it wiggle. Sure, the man was the monster that replaced his old friend, but he had to admit the new douchebag look was kind of hot.

Geoff grabbed the card from the counter and examined it. It was a thick card stock and slightly textured with the Greek letters obnoxiously large in one corner. Right in the middle read “Pierson Buckley Folsom VI,” infuriating Geoff. That was absolutely not his last name, in fact none of those were his names! Had he changed his entire personality to fit in with these people?  Had Phil been putting on a fake persona the entire time he was in college? Was this who he truly was? Geoff calmed himself down before reasoning that the name changing was a deeper sign. This whole thing had become so ridiculous he couldn’t just ignore it. He’d have to do some investigating.

— —

“This is Pierson Buckley Folsom VI.” 

Geoff didn’t actually want to go through with his plan, but he had to make an attempt. If he could insert himself safely into this Pierson’s friend group, he might just be able to figure out what happened to Phil. Sure, Geoff wasn’t really built for the whole undercover thing, but he owed it to his old friend. Plus, Geoff knew if he let the matter sit, it would just continue to haunt him.

“Hey, Pierson. This is Geoff.” 

“Hello Geoff, how may I assist you?” He was already straight to the point.

“Well, you know I was thinking about what you said back in the mall. Growing up and all that stuff.”

“Ah,” Pierson’s stale voice came from the other end. “I assume you are interested in becoming a Kappa Sigma then?”

“Yes.” Geoff swallowed before continuing, “I would like to become a Kappa Sigma.”

“If that is so,” Pierson began monotonously. “We have a rush event this weekend at the Rolling Acres Country Club. Come golfing this weekend, I know you will enjoy it.”

“That sounds exciting!” It totally did not. He did not want to go to a rush event in the most posh, expensive neighborhood in the city. “What do I need to wear? I’m sure they have a dress code.”

“Meet me at the Kappa Sigma house before. I will have appropriate clothing.”

“Sounds good, thank you for your help, Pierson.”

“You are welcome, Geoff.” 

And just like that, the plan was in motion. This weekend, Geoff would be infiltrating enemy territory, so it was now time to do some research. He didn’t want to be suspicious, but as far as he could tell, the only person who thought something was amiss was him.

— —

The Kappa Sigma Alpha house was a well-built, classic home that looked like it belonged in Connecticut or somewhere else classy. The elegant mansion was extremely large, just like all of its brothers. It was so huge in fact that it had a room strictly dedicated for watching football, and that wasn’t even the media room! According to Pierson, there was a room with a movie projector on another floor. The football room was just a man cave according to him, except it was a sunlit, high-ceilinged game room. It was about five times bigger than the dorm Geoff was currently living in, which was only half the size of Pierson’s room.  

When Pierson had answered the door, he was dressed in a full monochromatic suit.

Geoff had expected something more casual, so he was wearing a faded pair of khakis and a plaid button-up. Geoff’s bulkier counterpart was intensely embarrassed by his attire and insisted he put on one of his old suits. Geoff thought about protesting, but instead allowed it. He fit quite well in it, as Pierson’s old suit was from Phil’s era. Geoff hated the whole dress-up ordeal, but he needed to fit in as much as possible, and to do that he would have to do everything Pierson said. 

“Are we going golfing in suits?” Geoff asked innocently, unsure if they’d actually be participating in the sport.

“That’s absurd!” Pierson remarked, his tone just barely leaving its usual flat level as he dodged the question. “We will be changing at the club.”

Geoff couldn’t imagine how most people showed up dressed like this, but he would do whatever made Pierson comfortable. And apparently, the change had been necessary. After they got past the gate and into the main clubhouse, every man he passed had a tie on. Some of the brothers were already dressed in polos and khaki shorts, with the color of their outfits being the only way Geoff could figure out who was who. After Pierson had checked them in for the rush event, they headed to the lockers to change. Once the two had stripped, Pierson handed Geoff a small white piece of fabric. Geoff was horrified to find it was a pair of whitey-tighties, completely generic besides a tiny logo and a thin, blue line running through the band.

“What,” Geoff asked. “Dude, seriously?”

“All of us wear them,” Pierson blatantly stated, showing how he had stripped down to his own. Geoff had only noticed Pierson’s behind before, but now he took his chance to examine the whole body. Pierson was thick from below his pecs down to his butt, no real waistline. The holes for the legs in Pierson’s briefs clung tightly to his thighs, making the curve of his extremely wide buttocks stand out. His bulge was extremely pronounced too, pushing the briefs to their limit. Everything about Pierson was just so big nowadays, his proportions practically comic level. He looked good.

Knowing he had to do it, Geoff quickly stepped into the briefs. The briefs made their way up both of his legs and finally began to engulf his private regions. He pulled the waistband up and let them sink into place. The bright, white fabric comfortably held his body from the tip-top of thighs to just above his pubic bush.

“Let me help you with those.” 

Pierson glided over to Geoff and dutifully pulled the briefs higher, a lot higher. Geoff’s belly button was now completely hidden, giving him a slight wedgie and his small package an even smaller moose knuckle. His flat bottom seemed more vertical than ever, and his 3-inch soft dick was nowhere near whatever Pierson was packing. Geoff should have been in pain, he should have been protesting, but something had subtly changed inside of him. The moment was deceptively erotic, something overly-personal but seemingly inconsequential that he was giving up to fit in. The look of disgust he originally had on his face had faded away, replaced with a simple, charming smile.

With that done, Pierson handed Geoff some pink Bermuda shorts and a blue polo, each made of a stretchy and breathable material.

“You sure these are mine?” Geoff asked, noticing that the sizes were much too large. “I’m not sure I’ll fit.”

“I’m certain we’re the same size, Geoff.” Pierson replied, putting on his own set. The striped Hampton Lime polo he wore beautifully accentuated his pectoral shelf and–after being tucked into some tight cobalt Bermuda shorts–his blooming muscle gut. Geoff didn’t actually know the names of the hues, Pierson had strictly informed him beforehand. Pulled up to rest just below Pierson’s brief’s waistband, the shorts were held up by a fashionable belt that Geoff knew had a price tag with at least 3 digits. The shorts not only continued to advertise Pierson’s laughably large bottom, but also displayed powerful calves that looked as if they were stolen from a marble statue.

Although Pierson was certain they were the same size, they most certainly were not. Geoff was not surprised when his outfit failed to fit. The belt he had barely kept the shorts from falling, and even though the shirt was tucked in, it still draped over him more like a curtain. Unlike the briefs that had fit perfectly, the clothes were meant for a man much larger than him. A fraternity brother.

The final pieces were short, plain white socks and a pair of large golf shoes. Once again, Pierson had insisted the two were the same size, but Geoff knew his feet would never fit in the Size 14 giants. Even after tying the tightest knot he could, the shoes were still fairly roomy and loose, causing Geoff to focus intensely on every step in hopes of not tumbling over. Sighing in defeat, he noticed a small emblem on one of his socks, the same he had seen before on the briefs. He checked the other sock, and then also found it on his polo over the left breast. Deciding it couldn’t hurt, Geoff inquired about it.

“I don’t think I recognize this brand,” he started. “Are we wearing Ralph Lauren?”

“Not exactly,” Pierson replied, who had also finished getting dressed. “It’s a partner brand of Polo Ralph Lauren that made an exchange with the Carmichael Corporation. Apparently some financial deal.”

“What is the Carmichael Corporation?”

“They are an investing partner with Hemplebaum. The two often work together on acquisition projects. The event today is co-hosted by both companies. A lot of Kappa Sigma Alpha’s alum actually work at the companies, as the pair and the fraternity are continually functioning together. Almost like a cycle, I assume.” Pierson chuckled at that.

“I see.” Geoff smiled at the new piece of evidence. Not only did he just find that a company was in on the ordeal, but three. There was definitely something peculiar about this “financial deal,” and whatever these Hemplebaum and Carmichael organizations were, they had to be behind the disappearance of Phil.

The two then made their way out to the course. A plethora of young, muscular men and older counterparts were already golfing away, chatting merrily about subjects Geoff knew he had no interest in. Stocks and economical talk were topics that were unsurprisingly extremely boring. Pierson made sure to introduce as many people as he could as they walked along, and Geoff made sure to mentally write down each suspect in his head. 

There was Yale Stockton Rockefeller IV from Carmichael, a man slightly older than the pair but identical in size and manner to Pierson. He was wearing a violet polo, docksiders, and light gray madras shorts. Then there was Henderson Harold Hearst from Hemplebaum; he shared the same age and exaggerated proportions with Pierson’s uncle, Mr. Johnson, who was also there. He was wearing a white sports polo, black golf cap, and a pair of golf trousers that somehow expanded over his massive thighs, showing off Mr. Hearst’s thick trunks and amble, jiggly buttocks that pressed generously backwards. 

There were a plethora of other businessmen that were also introduced to Geoff along the way. Keating Eckley Whitlyn, Jr. from Carmichael; Emerson Foley Gillingham-Smyth from Carmichael; Rotterham Casper Cornelius Southard from Hemplebaum; John Millard Koehler III from Carmichael. All the titles and accentuated names made Geoff’s head want to explode, but he hadn’t even met a quarter of the populus yet. There were still all the Kappa Sigma boys with names like Thurston F. Walbridge IV, Wyndham Judge Kilbourn V, and Hunt Johnstonbough. Geoff couldn’t understand how people remembered all of these obsessive, extensive, and money-grubbing men and their names. All of the businessmen and fraternity brothers were just a bunch of wealthy blockheads.

A sharp, static shock zipped inside of Geoff’s high-waisted briefs, causing him to pause momentarily. The shock sent a signal up his anus and tickled his prostate ever so slightly. In his head, Geoff immediately reevaluated his previous thoughts. These men weren’t obsessive, they were just clean-cut and well-maintained. And their names weren’t extensive and money-grubbing, they were traditional, conservative, and sumptuous. These corrections brought a cordial smile to Geoff’s face. Only now noticing he had stopped walking, Geoff jogged to catch back up to Pierson, causing his slightly-larger buttocks to gingerly bob.

As they walked out onto the course, golf bags strapped across their backs, Geoff could see a tall figure in the distance seeming to greet them with a small wave. Pierson returned the gesture amiably.

“Who’s that?”

“Prescott Neilson Powers IV. I invited him to play with us. Prescott is the Kappa Sigma rush chair. ”

“You invited the rush chair?”

“Prescott, yes. He’s been a close friend since I attended preparatory school, you should know that, Geoff.”

Geoff did not know this, as Pierson hadn’t existed less than a semester ago.

“I thought you would get on quite well. Besides, he’s on good terms with many important people. If you want to join the fraternity brotherhood, no one is a better connection.”

Prescott was in stretchy plum-colored golf trousers, a ballcap with the KE logo sitting proudly on the front, and a smoky-gray polo exactly like the ones they were wearing. Geoff had a bit of a shock realizing how much Prescott looked like Pierson. His body filled out the polo tremendously with broad shoulders, baseball-like biceps, and a thick but strong core. He also had that overly-wide posterior that led into legs and calves formed by deadlifts and deep squats. His hair–which was sheared down into a practically flat bit of black hair, shiny and parted–was the only noticeable difference between the two, but otherwise Geoff might have mistaken the two for brothers or cousins.

“Greetings!” Prescott shook Pierson’s hand and pulled him in for a pat on the back. For his part, Pierson tensed up a bit but did not resist.

“Prescott Neilson Powers IV, this is Geoffrey Elliot. We had few classes together last year, and now he is interested in rushing.” Before Geoff could correct the error of his name, Prescott grabbed him into a similar handshake-to-hug.

“Pleasure to meet you, Geoffrey,” Prescott said calmly. “Well, let’s play.”

“Are we taking the cart?” Geoff asked, pointing to a line of white, polished golf carts. He really didn’t want to walk around the entire course. He hadn’t exerted that amount of physical energy since high school gym.

“Of course not!” Prescott and Pierson chortled before Prescott continued. “I’d figure us three needed to work less on our glutes and more cardio!” Prescott then reached out and gave both Pierson and Geoff hard butt slaps. Geoff wanted to object, but a momentarily jarring jolt from his briefs once again silenced him.

“We all know this will not be enough to alleviate that problem,” Pierson quipped as they made their way to the first hole. Geoffrey completely forgot what he was thinking about and followed with a polite smile, his shorts now tighter against his inflated rump.

Prescott was extremely friendly and a little physical. Upon learning that Geoffrey had never golfed, Prescott took it upon himself to teach him everything he could, resulting in him saddling up behind him to correct stance and form, but also jokingly pressing his crotch into Geoffrey’s butt and thrusting. The boys all laughed at the horseplay, with Geoffrey nervously trying to hide his boner. If he wanted to fit in around these traditional, conservative men, he’d have to be a lot more careful. Luckily, his member had softened before anyone noticed, returning to its previous 4-inches soft.

Geoffrey had a hard time hating Prescott and the Kappa Sigma brothers. Taking away all the pomp of politics and social structure, Prescott seemed to be an incredibly friendly alpha; the kind of guy who would be quarterback, homecoming king, and class president (all things Geoffrey learned Prescott was). Geoffrey began to recognize that all the Kappa Sigma, Carmichael, and Hemplebaum men had so many things in common. There were so many things about them that Geoffrey really liked. They were gorgeously male and embodied masculine sophistication. They were groomed and cleaned, polite and cheerful. They were such ideal men, what Pierson had called “perfectly preppy”.

“My girlfriend will literally do anything I ask, that’s how dedicated she is to me!” Prescott bragged in a slow but still gloating voice.

“She was always into you,” Pierson added.

“Yes, sir. Her dad’s super rich, one of the department managers at the Carmichael Corporation. He’s inundated with old money. But what about you?” Prescott got a mischievous glint as his eyes located Pierson’s crotch. “Are you getting those fellows ready? It is almost breeding season.”

“What does that mean?” Geoffrey inquired.

“Pierson Buckley Folsom VI here is getting married.”

“Congratulations!” Geoffrey replied enthusiastically, forgetting that Pierson hadn’t had a partner less than a month ago.

“Thank you. We’re finishing some final details; her mother is very specific. Sometimes, she acts as though I’m unworthy.”

“She cannot do better,” Prescott assured.

“She is a perfectly suitable spouse. I am very pleased with the situation,” Pierson affirmed before setting up his shot and launching the ball.  He let out a whistle of appreciation as it landed in the green just a few feet away from the hole.

“Good shot,” Prescott and Geoffrey said simultaneously. Geoffrey hadn’t noticed his voice was beginning to imitate the other two’s, as it was now a little deeper and even-handed.

“Geoffrey, I know it’s late notice, but I hope you can at least attend the wedding. The club has strict guest limits and I’m running out of passes for nonmembers for the bachelor party.”

“Thank you, Pierson. I’m sure I can make it.”

Geoffrey didn’t want to attend for investigative purposes however, he just wanted to support his close friend Pierson.

“And if you join the fraternity and get your membership before, you can enjoy all the heterosexual fun.” Prescott winked at Geoffrey and snagged a nipple that was now stiffly pressed out from the polo. Geoffrey had somehow not felt the weight of his upper body before as he walked, as his chest now stuck out and increased his height by a few inches. Geoffrey should’ve cared more about his enlarged torso, but for some reason walking around with pecs straining a polo felt incredible, like a huge dose of testosterone had been injected into him.

After a few more rounds, the trio decided to take an intermission and head back to the club. The main ballroom at the Rolling Acres was a lively place stocked with booze and many other pompous and colossal-sized men. Before Geoffrey could figure out what was going on, Pierson and Prescott were already removing the caps from a collection of glass bottles and pouring multiple glasses full of amber liquid.

“Come on, sit,” Prescott instructed, slapping Geoffrey’s bottom before taking a seat. Originally, Geoffrey had intended on asking some analytical questions and refusing the drinks, but after a quick agonizing wince he discovered he didn’t want to upset his new friends, or the financial connections they represented. Taking a big swig of the liquid, he sat down in the chair, his increasingly wide and plump behind consuming nearly ¾ths of the extra wide seat.

“You’re getting pretty good at the trap shot, Pierson Buckley Folsom VI, ” Prescott toasted Pierson.

“You’re still better, Prescott Neilson Powers IV,” Pierson was already refilling his drink happily. The trio continued chatting until Pierson eventually excused himself to the toilet, leaving Geoffrey alone with a man he thought would have been detestable. But this afternoon was fun. He got a small knot in his stomach as Prescott turned to him with a viperous grin.

“Geoff? Geoff Elliot?” Prescott suddenly said, dropping his voice low. Geoffrey was confused for a moment, as he hadn’t thought of himself as Geoff in a while. It was almost shocking, but then he cautiously nodded yes.

“Please, call me Geoffrey, Prescott.”

“Oh, I will, Geoffrey,” he emphasized the name. “You look good, and I have to admit I was wrong about you, Geoffrey. When Pierson had said he had invited you, I did not think you would make it. But here you are: willing and able, and looking much better with the muscles might I add. These clothes have done wonders for you.”

“Thank you, Prescott. I am very happy spending time with the Kappa Sigma men and the alumni.” Prescott nodded and smiled as the robotic words left Geoffrey’s mouth. Geoffrey had been content with his answer, but he hadn’t processed the real meaning behind Prescott’s comment. Absentmindedly scratching his calf, he should’ve been surprised by the amount of fur that caught in his grip. It also should have shocked him how firm his muscles felt; the thick, robust quads and strong, sculpted forelegs now filled his salmon shorts appropriately. They were also helped by his waist, which had expanded out both in the pelvic and gluteal regions.

“I like having my fellow fraternity brothers around. It is truly a real lifetime bond, care to agree?” Geoffrey nodded as Prescott took another deep swig. “Something that really defines a man: who he is and who he’s going to be.” 

Prescott then seemed to stare at Geoffrey curiously. For his part, Geoffrey had no idea what to say, and so stayed silent. “If I’d known this is who you were going to be, I’d have made sure you were my brother a long time ago. Of course, I knew Geoff, but not Geoffrey. Not big, strapping Geoffrey.”

“Yes,” Geoffrey stirred his glass and sat there.

“And I still have yet to meet whom you will become. You still have a ways to go until you have finished.”

“Finished?”

“The rush event, of course. You did not think it was over, did you? It is only a quarter past one you jester!” Prescott then grabbed Geoffrey’s head and gave him a playful noogie. The respectable man’s knuckles drove apart Geoffrey’s hair, causing the slightly-greasy afro to spill out a little more.

“Your hair has been a little off today,” Prescott noted. “Did you use enough pomade this morning?”

“Yes,” Geoffrey confirmed. “I believe I did.” He fixed his hair precariously, making sure all the edges were still held together like a helmet. Geoffrey liked his textured ivy league cut chipper yet sharp, just like the fine fellows of Kappa Sigma Alpha.

“Now, Geoffrey, what do you think Geoffrey is like in college?”

“I’m Geoffrey.”

“Correct, but these past few semesters you have not been. I just wonder what you wish you had done?”

“I wish I’d attended more sports games. I love football, and enjoy playing tennis and golf.” The answers had been installed in his head without him knowing.

“Splendid!”

“I’d want to have a group of men to watch sports with,” Geoffrey added.

“Indeed, every game we have an event at the house.” 

Geoffrey stared at him with glassy eyes. He was confused. It seemed like Prescott wanted him to say something, but he could only shrug.

“Would have been nice.”

“I do hope you apply for the fraternity. The brotherhood would be a good fit for you.”

“I’ve really enjoyed myself so far,” Geoffrey admitted. “And the prospect of living in the manor is tantalizing.”

“Where are you living nowadays?”

“I have a dorm in Walker. It’s a heap, but I live alone.”

“Have you thought about living with other men? Such ideal, perfectly preppy men?”

“What?! No, I haven’t, I mean..” Geoffrey sputtered a little, not considering that factor in his infiltration plan. It seemed like a dream, to be surrounded by so many gaudy, haughty, and sexy men. After a momentary painful shudder, Geoffrey realized he would love to be surrounded by so many prosperous, presumptuous, and handsome brothers. Of course, his definition of handsome was a man who was traditional, well-heeled, and physically attractive to women. Geoffrey believed that men ought to align themselves to the only orientation, one where his 5-inch soft dick didn’t get aroused to the thought of other gentlemen.

“I’m not sure it’s right for me,” Geoffrey announced truthfully, authorizing a smirk from Prescott.

“It’s right for Geoffrey. For football-playing, fraternity brother, corporate shark Geoffrey.” Prescott smiled and got up from the table, ushering Geoffrey to follow him.

“If you become a brother, either the Carmichael Corporation or Hemplebaum will pay off your student debt as long as you work a year-long internship with them after you graduate. I can set you up.”

“Really?”

“I always support my Kappa Sigma Alpha brothers.” His impish grin was the only signal Geoffrey had before another blow to his bottom. After a little excruciating twitch, Geoffrey returned to reality, his voluminous buttocks still vibrating as they had now accumulated a soft layer of fat that made him even wider.

“Kappa Sigma Alpha, brothers strong, brothers long. Four years forged the lifetime bond!”  Prescott chanted and stared at Geoffrey. Geoffrey hesitated, but his mind wanted it so bad. He wanted Prescott to like him, to be his brother. Geoffrey wanted to be one of the classy, dashing brothers.

“Kappa Sigma Alpha, brothers strong, brothers long. Four years forged the lifetime bond.”  Prescott smiled as Geoffrey repeated the stanza back to him.

Pierson then showed up a moment later from behind them.

“What did I miss?”

“Just the rushing of our newest member here!”

“Newest member?” Pierson replied excitedly. “You are going to become a brother, Geoffrey?”

“I must!” Geoffrey replied eagerly. He wanted to become one of these perfectly preppy brothers, which kind of went against his reason for coming here in the first place. But, why was he here again? Was it not to be rushed? For some reason, Geoffrey felt like he was forgetting something, but it didn’t bother him enough to dwell on it. Any inappropriate memory of infiltration or distaste had been sapped from his increasingly cordial mind.

“That makes me so elated!” Pierson exclaimed. “Let us go find my uncle then, that way we can have him officiate the necessary forms.”

“If I can have a moment,” Geoffrey paused the celebration. “I would like to use the restroom.”

“Well…” Pierson hesitated.

“Of course!” Prescott gave a reassuring glance to Pierson, although Geoffrey didn’t know why. “Around the corner over yonder and then westbound. We will go retrieve Mr. Johnson while you alleviate.”

“My gratitude.” Not only had Geoffrey’s tone adopted the same deep, flat, and robotic tone, but his vocabulary slowly became much more sophisticated. As he strolled over to the restroom, Geoffrey now felt the weight of his body as he walked. He hadn’t noticed before, but he had settled out around 6’3 thanks to his extended limbs. His newly broadened shoulders filled out his dark periwinkle polo nicely. They made him feel like he took up the entire doorway as he entered the lavatory, and his big, wide stride made his butt and crotch kind of wiggle as he walked. He could feel the fabric of his salmon shorts tighten around his balls and release, then tighten on the other side. It was mildly arousing.

After taking a hearty leak, Geoffrey pulled his briefs back up above his belly button. It was deceptively erotic, something overly-personal but seemingly inconsequential that he was giving up to fit in. And that’s what he wanted after all, to fit in. Why be unique and different when one could be conventional, classical, and consistent? That’s why he had come here in the first place, because he wanted to be like these men. Geoffrey wanted to be a Kappa Sigma, and after that work at either the Carmichael Corporation or Hemplebaum.

Washing his hands in the sink, Geoffrey looked up and was very pleased to see the extremely handsome young man in front of him. He filled out his clothes almost to the point of bursting, from the Size 14 golf shoes to the Philadelphia blue polo. As he admired his form in the mirror, Geoffrey couldn’t help but brush the smooth-shaved line of his prominent jaw. He really could swear that his face had been almost heart-shaped, but now there was a distinctly hexagonal shape to the thing. Geoffrey was practically a hypermasculine parody: low brow, big nose, and wide jaw with a gigantic cleft chin: just like all the other men here.

Once he had finished appreciating his form, he exited the restroom and found Pierson, Prescott, and Mr. Johnson all chatting merrily. When they noticed his entrance, they immediately turned to allow him into the conversation.

“What can I do for you, Geoffrey?” Mr. Johnson asked. Geoffrey tried to find a concise answer for that question, but found that impossible.

“I want to become a Kappa Sigma and work with business and finance after graduation. I want every piece of advice you can give me.”

“Why is that?” Mr. Johnson was suppressing a smug smile though Geoffrey didn’t notice.

“I want to be just like you. And Pierson Buckley Folsom VI. And Prescott Neilson Powers IV. And all the men here at Rolling Acres.”

“Enjoy the event?”

“Immensely. I belong here with these kinds of men. I want to move into the Kappa Sigma Alpha house, not live in some pathetic university building.” He cast a disgusted look before continuing.  “I want to become an alumni and work under the Carmichael Corporation or Hemplebaum.”

Mr. Johnson smiled. “So, Geoffrey, are you willing to fully commit yourself to the Kappa Sigmas?”

“I am, sir,” he replied in a soldier-like manner.

“Excellent. Well, I can proudly say you are approaching the physical standards. Let me address one concern.” Mr. Johnson carefully moved his massive arm behind Geoffrey and patted his buttocks gently. Geoffrey didn’t react as a gentle sting pulsated his prostate and a charming smile adorned his face. Mr. Johnson’s hand moved away to reveal an enormous rump identical to the others’, one thick with muscles underneath but concealed underneath a spongy layer of fat. With the salmon Bermuda shorts now tight against his behind, the crotch of his shorts were pulled tight into a prominent moose knuckle, also showcasing his 7-inch soft dick.

“Yes, that is more appropriate.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Now, there is a rather large change that I believe is a necessity for your progression into the Kappa Sigmas as well as your new social circle.”

“What is that sir?”

“Your name, it is just too common and destitute. You agree?” Geoffrey snapped back confirmation even though it made his head spin. “Personally, I have always been very fond of names associated with old money.”

“You want me to change my last name?” Geoffrey asked, slightly confused.

“Not exactly. Your entire name will have to be reformed.”

“My entire name?”

“Well, I thought you wanted to succeed.”

“Yes sir.”

“So you want to change your name. What do you think would work?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“So you want my help, is that what you are saying?” The words were coming so fast and Mr. Johnson’s eyes were so enticing that Geoffrey nodded.

“Yes sir, please tell me what my name should be.”

Mr. Johnson crossed his arms over his shelf of pecs, clearly relishing in the moment even though Geoffrey had no idea why.

“This is my favorite part.” Geoffrey didn’t say anything, as his superior clearly didn’t want him to.  And he’d just asked for help so there was no need to say anything. “It’s a great moment, when you realize you want to be whatever I want you to be.” 

Mr. Johnson ceremoniously pulled a form out of his suit pocket and presented it to Geoffrey. “This is your fraternity contract. You don’t need to bother with the details. Just sign your name.“

In very literal terms, Geoffrey would be singing away his life. The fraternity, the proud men of Kappa Sigma, and all of the alumni who worked at the Carmichael Corporation and Hemplebaum were now permanently immune from any legal repercussions. Of course, there never would be, as they had plenty of experience in this sort of thing.

Geoffrey was about to sign, but he noticed a different name was listed on the contract.

“It is supposed to be made out by Godfrey Larimer Elverton Jr.?”

“A name I believe will fit you suitably.” Mr. Johnson offered a pen to Geoffrey and gave a conceited smirk. “Just sign.”

The order immediately processed through Geoffrey’s brain, bringing a clubby smile to his face as he wrote out his new signature. Once he had finished, Mr. Johnson took the contract back and made his way to the ballroom stage. He signaled for Geoffrey to follow him.

“Hello?” Mr. Johnson tested a mic, his lifeless bass resonant across the room. “I would like to request every man’s attention please.”

Geoffrey watched on as all the men in the room turned to look their way. So many masculine men dressed to the tens in lavish suits and colorful polos. They were all so refined, so perfectly preppy.

“I would like to announce our first success of the annual Kappa Sigma Alpha rush event: the newest man of Kappa Sigma, Godfrey Larimer Elverton Jr.!”

The crowded room burst into a controlled round of applause. Godfrey felt giddy, proud to become a part of this fine organization. After the room had calmed down, Mr. Johnson and Godfrey rejoined Pierson and Prescott. They continued a fascinating discussion about budgetary and monetary issues, as a recent Hemplebaum acquisition of an old theatre downtown had created quite a profit. Godfrey felt right as home, as if he had always meant to be a Kappa Sigma. He instantly embraced his new role in life and quickly was accepted as a full brother by the other men.

The rest of the day went by pretty quickly. After Godfrey, there were eight other boys who were rushed into the Kappa Sigmas. Godfrey didn’t realize that at the beginning of the day, these boys had all been exactly like him: crude, coarse, and shoddy. In fact, Godfrey didn’t realize that he had been like that at all. His memories had slowly shifted, causing him to remember a wealthier upbringing, one where he had pampered and shaped to become a Kappa Sigma man over the last 21 years.

“To be frank,” Pierson started as they made their way back out to the first hole. “I did not foresee you transitioning so fast, let alone becoming the first pledge of the day.”

“You should recognize that I have been training for this my entire life,” Godfrey replied sternly.

“Oh, I do,” Pierson conceded. “But I will need some testament to that claim. Four strokes is par.”

Godfrey turned to Pierson and gave a broad, bland smile.

“Pierson Buckley Folsom VI,” he declared with a club in his hand. “I’ll only need one.”

[mistyresolve]

| Talking To The Void - Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (Edited)

Word count - 2k

Summary - While Simon is away on missions, it’s hard on everyone. Especially his significant other. So he’s discovered a loophole, the only issue is that it has its downfalls. 

Warning/Tags - mentions of the dirty, 

A/N - this is something short to introduce my version of Simon “Ghost” Riley. i like the idea that both Simon Riley and Ghost in a sense are the same person with the same goals and values but he has defined separation between the two.

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form

It no longer came as a shock when you didn’t hear from Simon for weeks on end when he was away on missions. You understood the reasoning behind the strict no contact rule; gave him grace because the cards were never in his hands. With him having to fly under the radar, and lower still, he had to vanish from the living world. You being a part of the living world involved vanishing from you too. Sometimes it was the fact that he just never had the time or means to make a phone call. Even still, the normalcy of it never quelled the anxiety and fear that plagued you—it followed you around like a predator stalking its prey. It lurked in the shadows and breathed down your neck when your back was turned. It followed you into your dreams, forcing you to awake in a panic and drenched in sweat. 

You had absolute, unequivocal faith in him to come back to you. He always did. But the silence that replaced his presence was always filled with overthinking and rumination. 

You tried your best to distract yourself. Sometimes with work of your own, staying later than the janitors, and when you drove home the streets and highways were desolate. You also spent a considerable amount of time at your parents' place, eating your mothers home cooked meals while you chatted about the new family gossip. You used to stay the weekend at her house because coming back home to an empty house was sometimes too much. A chilling reminder of what you were trying to forget. The nights that you did spend in your bed you slept in his clothes and on his side of the bed. Anything to get a little closer to him. Anything to trick yourself into thinking he was still there.  

You never held it against Simon though. It took you the first five missions he was ordered onto to finally come to terms with the unusual lifestyle. Each time he returned he brought with him an immense amount of guilt. A guilt that ran so deep even you couldn’t soothe. He did everything he could on his end to find alternative ways to support you through his absence. When he found out about the occasional sleepovers at your parent's house, he brought you to an SPCA to adopt whatever animal of your choosing. Something to bring warmth and life into the home in his stead. Simon wasn’t the least bit surprised when you picked the sassy tabby cat with one eye named Ginger Spice. 

The other alternative was phone calls. Always from a burner phone. Always an unknown number. Always silent on the other end. 

Every time your phone rang and you picked it up, there was always a deflation when a phone number or name was attached to it. 

That wasn’t the case this time. You fumbled and shook as you slid your finger across the screen to answer the call. Hesitating before you open your mouth, the word scared it would be returned, “Hello?” you closed your eyes, hoping, praying, pleading, that the caller didn’t reply. 

When you were met with nothing, heard nothing, the half sob half sigh of relief that you let out was heartbreaking. Even Simon on the other end of the line had to lean his head against the wall for support, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“I miss you,” the words are laced with grief and torment, “I miss you so much it hurts.”

Ginger Spice who was previously lounging on the divan across from you perked up at the sound of your teary voice. He let out a curious trill as he leapt off the seat, pranced to your spot on the couch, and jumped into your lap; making a few laps back and forth before settling in between your legs. The tabby cat was providing the support that Simon was striving for. Simon silently thanked the cat.  

“Ginger came to say ‘Hi’,” You laughed through the tears, your vision momentarily going blurry. You wiped furiously at your eyes. You didn’t want to waste this stolen time on crying. 

The first time he made one of these calls and you had hung up on him not realizing who it was. When he returned, he very bashfully confessed to you that it was him. You had given him endless apologies, absolutely mortified. He had laughed and pressed kisses into your hair, telling you it was okay and he expected that that would be the most probable outcome. 

You didn’t know how long you had with him before the line would be severed and you’d be left wondering. Your fingers were kept busy by tracing the pattern on Ginger Spices markings, who immediately erupted with purrs in response. 

“I don’t know if you hear him, but he’s purring,” you relayed, a soft smile dancing on your mouth. 

Simon could, very faintly, and only when you spoke. The sound floated in the background of your words. A smile of his own formed under the mask. The moment was shared from thousands and thousands of miles away, and yet in the same room. 

“He misses you too,” and the cat did, you would occasionally find him curled in the sheet on Simon's side of the bed. Other times he was sitting on the bench next to the door, waiting for his dad to enter, “Sometimes he takes it out on me. Which, by the way, I don’t deserve, and you’ll have to make up for that when you get back” also a true statement. Ginger Spice had developed a horrible habit of ignoring you and giving you blatant attitude. Just this morning when you filled his food bowl he meowed at you until you sat at the island and drank your tea. All because Simon would get up at buttcrack dawn, feed the cat, and drink tea while he read over reports and documents while he waited for you to start to wake up so he could climb back into the sheets and be there when you open your eyes. 

“And that brings me to the next point of discussion. Your mother-in-law wants you to help move the couch in the basement to the garage so she can sell it. Dad wants to turn it into some sort of lounge, den, bar, thingy,” you waved your hand in dismissal despite the fact that he couldn’t see the action. 

He might not have been able to see, but if he closed his eyes and listened, he could imagine you. Knowing your mannerisms and idiosyncrasies as if they were his own. Every moment he spent with you he filed away and studied. A talent that also came in handy when it came to those lonely nights away from you. Visualizing his hand was yours. Smaller and softer. Gentle and caring. A fact that he had no qualms telling you about, or explaining to you in great detail. And he was very good at explaining, and it usually led you to enact his visualizations. All so he can “confirm his creativity was close to the real thing”. He is very tongue-in-cheek about it too.  

“She wants me to help her paint and redecorate. But I’m having a hard time thinking up a theme so you’ll have to help me out,” and he would, he was good at helping you organize your thoughts and ideas. He enjoyed any task that was thrown at him, taking them head-on and with fervent no matter how pointless it was. He claimed it kept him limber. He liked being needed and valued. He especially liked it when you praised his ideas. 

He listened contently as you talked to him about everything you could. What you had for lunch, the book you recently finished, the hairball you had to clean up, the “bitch two offices down”. He would have to bite the inside of his cheek and focus on controlling and steadying his breaths to keep from laughing. He loved how your voice dropped to a whisper when you got to the nitty gritty of the gossip. As if you were sitting at the back of a coffee shop with him, and talking about people as they sat right in front of you. He’d never admit it, but he lived for the drama. Thrived off it. But only if it came from you.

You filled him in on the drama, removing names and identifiers in the rare case that someone was listening in. The same reason you wouldn’t say his name or call sign. The same reason he couldn’t talk.

He never voiced it to you for the fear that if he spoke it out loud it would come true, but the possibility of something happening to you because he got too comfortable in his anonymity, scared the shit out of him. An issue he never had to deal with before you. He always kept his identity close to his chest but his seriousness about it only increased by a tenth-fold when you crept into his life. It was not only his life on the line but yours too now. He was doing everything he could to protect you. To make sure you remained an enigma to his enemies. To which he had a lot of. A lot of them would have no issues using you to get to him, and all of them would kill for that kind of opportunity. He also wanted to give you some ounce of normality when he returned, and he didn’t have to conceal his identity. Where he could take you out, and show you off without the fear that someone will recognize him. His only regret was that he could only give that to you for half the time.

He sometimes wished he could burn the world just so he could get some peace with you. He wished he could put you in a jar and carry you with him everywhere he went. That’s all they were though, wishes and selfish daydreams. 

Right now, he was sitting in the stairwell of an apartment building. He and Price were monitoring a target, building a routine for them. They were stationed on the roof of said apartment with snipers. He had switched off the main shift with Price about six hours ago. He spent those six hours getting sleep and food, before making the phone call. A phone call Price had no idea he was making. A phone call to someone, not even Price knew existed. He would rejoin Price after the call to help with comms and to give him some company. Lord knew Simon knew staring into a scope at someone watch TV and order room service for a 12 hour shift was deathly boring. Not that he’d ever complain. It allowed him time to sit with his thoughts. He would probably do a couple of rounds around the area too. Secure their exits and entrances. 

You loosed a sigh, suddenly sad again, “I’ve kept you longer than I should have.”

He looked at the timer on the phone screen: 1:23:09. 

It hadn’t felt that long. And it sure as hell didn’t feel long enough.  

“Come home to me soon, please,” the earnestness in your voice was palpable. He could almost taste it on his tongue. The twisted heart in his chest felt like it dropped a couple of inches, and a zip of pain shot down his arm.  

“I love you,” you whispered so sweetly he thought he’d get a sugar high from it. That or the blood was leaving his brain and travelling south. You left enough time after you said it that if he could respond he would have enough time. Then reluctantly hung up. 

He tapped the phone in the palm of his hand, pulling his mind back into his body. Switching back to Ghost he rolled his shoulders, shaking off any remaining unwanted thoughts and feelings. 

He dismantled the phone, removing the battery, the sim, the camera, the screen. Everything. He would toss the individual parts in different locations as he did his patrols. He’d be damn thorough. The sim card he would burn. He would destroy any evidence and connection to Simon Riley. 

Masterlist  ❤︎

[lisbeth-kk]

December moments

Prompts used in this chapter: resolutions - Auld Lang Syne

Almost everyone who knows Sherlock wouldn’t believe it if they were told that the great detective has resolutions for the upcoming year. If they were to guess what said resolutions could be, they would fail. Exceedingly.

December 30

Sherlock’s phone pings with a text before we get up this morning. He frowns at it for a while, huffs, hums, then sighs and turns to face me. 

“John, I…uhm…”

It’s so out of character for Sherlock to stutter like this, and I worry instantly, which Sherlock assures me isn’t necessary. 

“Not to worry, John. I had a dream just before I woke up this morning, or rather a memory. You remember when Mycroft sung when I played earlier this month?”

“Of course, love. It was the most surprising thing I’ve ever encountered, but definitely a wonderful surprise. What does that have to do with your text?” I ask him. 

“The text is from Mycroft. He’s asking us over for dinner at his chambers at the Diogenes this evening. My instant thought was obviously to decline.”

“Obviously,” I chuckle, which earns me a smile. 

“You know I don’t do resolutions of any sorts, but I can’t help myself. It’s clearly your fault for having put a spell on me or something,” he tells me, his eyes now gleaming mischievous. 

I snort and poke him in the ribs. He grabs my wrist and brings my hand to his chest and rests his own hand on top of mine. 

“Behave, captain,” he purrs, and only those two words, not to mention the tone of his voice, makes my penis instantly interested. 

I beckon him to continue, and I couldn’t have been more surprised if Sally Donovan had sent Sherlock a Valentine card. 

“If you’re amenable, I think I’ll say yes to the invitation. My brother’s clearly serious about him and George, and I think it’ll be a good thing to spend some more time together with them. Besides, the food and drinks at the Diogenes are excellent. Would be a shame to let those two devour it all by themselves.”

I lean over to kiss his perfect mouth and give him my answer while looking down at him, with what probably is a soppy expression. 

“How is it that you’re still able to surprise me like this, sweetheart? Of course, I’ll come with you, and you two Holmes’s can use the evening to practice names,” I say and kiss him again.

***

When I see Sherlock walk into the sitting room all dressed up, I just want to undress him, no unwrap him like the exquisite gift he is. My fingers itch to mess up his perfectly styled curls and I clench my fists and groan. The smirk appearing on that beloved face, showing his dimple, make my knees weak. 

His long legs are enveloped in black, bespoke suit trousers, which end in black polished shoes. My eyes wander up his body, finding his torso covered in a white shirt, a black bowtie and a burgundy jacket with black velvet lapels. I lick my lips and swallow the considerate amount of saliva filling my mouth. 

“You’re staring,” Sherlock rumbles, but there’s no hiding that he enjoys my openly admiration of his attire and general looks. 

“Anyone with a pulse would,” I mutter and deliberately walks in a large circle to avoid the temptation of touching this delectable creature that is my boyfriend. 

I take my time dressing, fully knowing that I’m no match when it comes to Sherlock’s otherworldly beauty, but I will make an effort to look my best tonight. My pinstriped grey suit, white shirt and ivy green tie look rather good on me, and I put a bit of product in my hair and the aftershave Sherlock gifted me on my birthday, complete my business in the bathroom. 

“John,” Sherlock breathes reverently when I come back to the sitting room, and that tells me everything I need to know. 

His eyes roam over me with a hungry look, and I bask in it for a few seconds before I tell him we need to be on our way. I know from experience that if I even took his hand just to kiss it, we’d be lost in the desire to undress and devour each other right here. His disappointment is apparent, but I remind him of his resolution, and mentioning his brother’s name, is enough for him to tear his attention away from me. Not without an eyeroll and a growl, though. 

“Later, my love,” I say and wink at him over my shoulder before I descend the stairs. 

***

Socialising with Mycroft at his club, is not something I ever thought I would experience, but here I am. He greets me with my first name, and Sherlock calls Greg by his in turn. I may have to start believing in miracles if this continues. 

“Myc was over the moon that you came,” Greg whispers while Sherlock and Mycroft discuss the best way to open a champagne bottle. 

“Does he let you call him that?” I ask incredulously.

Sherlock is going to have a stroke when he hears about this!

“Of course, John. He’s my boyfriend,” Greg says a bit affronted. 

Boyfriend. Another word I find hard to associate with Mycroft Holmes. 

Sherlock saves me from embarrassing myself further, by handing me a flute of fizzy champagne. Greg walks over to Mycroft to grab his own glass, and Sherlock curls his pinkie around mine, and bends his head down to my ear. 

“Alright?” he inquires softly. 

“Yeah. It’s just a bit…”

I let the sentence hang in the air, but Sherlock catches up quickly and chuckles quietly. 

“I know what you mean,” he says and kisses my cheek before he straightens. 

We toast our host with the exquisite champagne, and the rest of the evening proceeds quite civilly. As Sherlock informed me, the food and drinks are superb. In particular the veal saltimbocca served with a perfectly matched Italian wine. Even Sherlock eats a fair amount. 

The warm forest berries and egg liqueur ice-cream leave me in a state of bliss, which the cognac Mycroft serves in large glasses, does nothing to change. My hand hangs over the armrest of the comfortable chair; my fingers interlaced with Sherlock’s where our hands meet in the empty space between us. Mycroft and Greg mirror our position and now, after hours being in their company, it doesn’t seem strange at all. 

I feel a bit emotional; I blame the alcohol, and I must swallow hard when Auld Lang Syne plays on the hidden music system. I vividly remember that it was sung by myself and my fellow soldiers before we got on the plane to Afghanistan. Sometimes that day seems like a lifetime ago, but right now it feels like it was just the other day. I close my eyes and lose myself in the memories and don’t realise that Sherlock has stood up and looms over me. 

He reaches out his hands to me and I let him pull me out of the chair and into his embrace. His long arms encircle my shoulders and I place my head on his chest, registering that my face is wet with shed tears. 

“My John. My brave captain,” Sherlock murmurs into my hair while holding me tight. 

Of course, he’s picked up on my mood and the reason for it. 

My brilliant detective of a fiancé. 

Suddenly I feel the urge to be back home; just him and me. 

“Let’s go home, John,” Sherlock says as if he’s read my thoughts. “There’s a car waiting outside.”

Many things can be said about Mycroft Holmes, but his effectiveness is never to be questioned. When Sherlock releases me and I brace myself to face the two men, I realise we’re alone in the room. In my relief, I grab Sherlock’s lapels and kisses him fiercely, conveying all my gratitude and love into the kiss. 

“I love you, Sherlock Holmes,” I whisper when I withdraw. 

“I love you too, John,” Sherlock retorts and strokes my cheekbone before handing me my coat. 

Read it on AO3

@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @safedistancefrombeingsmart @raina-at @gregorovitchworld @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear @sabsi221b

[hslllot]

insieme in paradiso

“together in paradise”

rated m | 2.7k words

better late than never, right? this is a short piece for my dear friend’s @harry-on-broadway​ fic challenge (the prompts used are in bold)! It is basically an extended version of this concept I wrote back in 2021... We’ve had such great latam content lately that I feel like I should have adjusted the setting of this, but I hope you enjoy anyways! As always, please let me know what you think. xx shan

———

Was this heaven?

You were certain that you’d never felt more relaxed as you bathed in the Tuscan sunlight. Lounging beside your love, you let your eyes close, the book you were reading abandoned in the sand next to your chair ages ago. Every worry, every stressor, every bit of tension in your muscles that you carried with you drifted away in the winds of the ocean breeze. 

This was the private getaway with Harry you’d been longing for. It seemed like forever since the two of you were able to spend an extended amount of time alone together. 

“Mum just posted this photo. Look. Thea’s getting so big.” Your boyfriend interrupted your daze when he reached out from beside you to shove his phone in your face.  

You opened your eyes slowly and lowered your sunglasses so you could take a proper look. Using your hand to shield the glare of the Italian sun, you saw on his screen an Instagram story his mother had posted of his cousin’s baby. 

“She’s adorable, H.” You responded, adjusting your sunglasses back to cover your eyes. “We should give Ella a call later, maybe we can FaceTime.” All you heard in response was a short grunt as he laid back in his chair, eyes still fixed on his screen.

He was grumpy and you could tell. 

One thing about your boyfriend of three years, which you found incredibly endearing, was that he loved his family more than anything. Unfortunately, when his family was gathered and he couldn’t be there, he’d tend to get a bit pouty. You’d find him glued to the group chat or Instagram to get updates on what they were up to. Sometimes you would catch him ‘liking’ or ‘reacting’ to their posts and stories (on his private account of course) in an attempt to make himself feel more included. 

Birthdays. Weddings. Babies. There was a long list of family events he often had to miss because of his job, and you knew it weighed heavily on his heart. 

A small part of you was slightly annoyed that he wished he were somewhere else. But another part of you, perhaps the more compassionate part, understood that multiple truths could exist at once: 1) He was happy to be spending time with you, 2) he was grateful for his job that took him to beautiful countries and allowed him to live a lavish life, and 3) he missed his family dearly. 

But sometimes you didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just go home and visit them whenever he felt like it. He certainly could afford it, and he had the power in all of his business relationships to take a vacation whenever he felt like it. Sometimes you wished he had more of a ‘diva’ type attitude when it came to certain things, like allowing himself to take breaks from work. However, another thing about your boyfriend was that he was a chronic overachiever and people pleaser with a tendency to overcommit to new projects. And you figured it wasn’t so bad to have a partner in life who was considerate of other peoples’ time and feelings. 

Plus, you couldn’t complain much because his commitment to a new project was how you found yourself at the beautiful, private, Il Pellicano in Tuscany. 

The two of you were finally spending some much needed quality time together. Coordinating your schedules had been an absolute nightmare and it was a miracle that you were able to take some time away from work to join him on this trip. He was technically here on business, preparing for the launch of his Gucci collection with Alessandro. But you had spent the majority of the trip together, watching him model his clothing, sitting side-by-side on the small private beach of your villa, and wrapped around one another in the bedroom.

At the moment though, Harry’s frustration, guilt, and longing to be with his family was threatening to penetrate the bubble of relaxation surrounding you. You could feel the restless energy emanating off of him. Without opening your eyes you heard the way he moved around in his chair and sighed under his breath as he scrolled through his phone and typed away messages in his family group chat. When you finally did open your eyes you found him on his stomach, his head at the other end of the chair near your feet, and his phone two inches from his face. And while this position afforded you a great view of his tanned back and taut muscles glistening in the Italian heat, clad only in a small pair of black swimming shorts, you could feel the tension radiating from him and you couldn’t ignore it any longer. 

You reached across and placed your hand on the back of his calf, rubbing your thumb back and forth against his warm, sun-kissed skin, as if to soothe him.

“Hey baby?”

“Hmmm?” He responded mindlessly, not bothering to look up from his phone. 

“Hey, look at me.” You urged, squeezing his calf to gain his attention. 

“Sorry” he murmured, putting his phone down. He twisted in the lounge chair to face you, sitting up to give you his full attention. You reached for his hand and intertwined your fingers with his. 

“I was thinking… I know we’re supposed to head back to London on Sunday, but what if we took a few days in Holmes Chapel?” He raised an eyebrow at you curiously, wordlessly asking where this had come from. You continued, “It’s been so long since we’ve seen Anne and I miss her… Plus, we’ve only seen Thea once since she’s been born. I think I can extend my vacation by a few days.”

He sat there for a moment silently, teasing at his bottom lip.

“I have a meeting with Lambert and Molly on Monday in London.” He winced, remembering his prior commitment.

“Surely you can do it over Zoom. Or just push it a couple days. You are the boss, aren’t you?” 

Something flickered in his eyes and a slight smirk crept his lips at your mention of him being the boss. 

His gears were turning and you knew him well enough to know the battle going on inside his brain. He probably didn’t love the idea of moving a meeting to go see his mum, but since it was technically your idea it was like a free pass. He could feel less guilty about it because he was doing it for you. 

(Obviously you both knew this was entirely for him… But you needn’t say it)

You thought he might pass on the opportunity, and were startled when he removed his hand from yours and scrambled up from his lounge chair. He quickly moved onto your chair, straddling you with his entire body weight pinning you down. With his forearms rested on either side of your head, he placed quick kisses all over your face. Almost reflexively, you wrapped your hands around his biceps. His hot, sinewy arms flexed in your grip. 

“Yeah,” is all he said before placing a long, slightly wet, kiss on your forehead. “I AM the boss. And I would like that very much. Thank you for suggesting it.” Unable to wipe the smile from his face, he placed one more tender kiss on your lips.

You reached for the sunglasses that sat atop his head and removed them, freeing space for you to run your fingers through his soft brown curls. “You’re welcome, H.” He lowered into your touch, eager for a cuddle. “But you have to get up. You’re squishing me.”

“Right, sorry.” He removed himself from on top of you and took a seat by your feet at the end of the chair. It was his turn to soothe you now, grazing his palm along your calf and up to your knee, which he gave a squeeze before dragging his hand back down.

“I think it’s time we get out of the sun, yeah?” The sly look on his face was all too familiar as his gaze trailed down your bikini-clad body. “You’re lookin’ a little sunburnt.”

“Am I?” You teased.

“I’ve got something I can rub on it back in our room.”

You rolled your eyes at him, feigning annoyance at his flirtation. Nonetheless, you knew where this was headed.

Gathering your belongings hastily, you were both eager to make your way back to the air conditioned room that held your luxurious king bed. You trailed behind Harry, climbing the stone steps up to the private entrance of your villa hand in hand. 

Once inside your room, you dropped your tote bag and walked over to the balcony, sliding open the curtains and the door to let the sunshine and salt air filter through the room. Looking out at the scene below, you could see the private beach where you and Harry had spent your morning and admired the way the Tuscan sun illuminated the sapphire blue ocean ahead. You took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly as you felt Harry come to stand closely behind you.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” You said quietly. Harry wrapped his arms around you from behind, allowing you to rest your chin on his forearms. He nuzzled his face into your neck where he left a delicate touch of his lips.

“Thank you for being here with me.” He responded. 

Any annoyance you previously felt toward your boyfriend’s proclivity for FOMO melted away when you realized how grateful you were to be here with him. In the chaos of his busy life, while he missed his family deeply, he chose to be here with you, together in paradise. 

You turned yourself in his arms, your body flush against his, to find his soft, yet intense, gaze on your lips. 

Harry held lightly onto your hips. Leaning in, his lips parted, and you could feel his warm breath against yours. You placed your hands on his chest, his skin burning under your fingers. With every shallow intake of breath he edged closer, until finally catching your top lip between his.

His hands trailed up your sides as your kiss became deeper, fuller. You felt like you might melt against him, heat racing down to every part of your body that was touching his. He roamed your curves and the expanse of your back, pressing you even closer to him, before finding the strings that held together your bikini. With two gentle tugs, the piece of fabric fell to the ground. 

He broke away from your kiss only briefly to study the sight of you, topless, in front of him. “Bellissima,” he whispered, his voice deep and slow. You saw the muscles in his jaw tick as his gaze burned holes through you. It was your turn, this time, to grab onto him and press him closer against you, feeling his hardness. 

It wasn’t long before Harry’s mouth started to move down your body. Your neck, your collarbone, your chest. His tongue dragged over your nipple before sucking it into his mouth and an intoxicating heat rippled through you. 

“Bed, please” was all you could muster under your breath. Harry reluctantly pulled himself off you and started walking you back, stopping when the back of your legs hit the bed. He gently lowered you onto the bed and resumed his work dragging his mouth down your body, finishing off with a chaste kiss to your hip bone.  

He stood up straight at the edge of the bed, towering over you. Eager for him, you removed your bikini bottoms and tossed them to the floor. 

“A bit impatient?” He chuckled, looking down hungrily at your naked body. You didn’t bother to respond, leaning back on your forearms, you kicked your leg out and toed at the tent in his black swimming shorts, encouraging him to take them off. “Tell me” he said sternly.

“I want them off.”

He pulled his shorts down and discarded them on the floor before climbing on to the bed. You admired the way he wrapped his hand around his cock and began slowly stroking himself, a small sense of relief evident on his face. He lowered himself over you and pressed his lips to yours. While your tongues met, the pads of his fingertips began to explore, trailing delicately down your stomach. Your body responded to his familiar touch, goosebumps racing over you and a fire simmering in your belly. 

You were desperate for him, your body begging for him to touch you as his fingers made their way down to your heat. A heavy moan left your lips when he began running circles over your clit. At that moment, you were completely overwhelmed by him. The way his lips felt against yours, the taste of his tongue, the scent of his cologne, the soft pads of his fingers on your most sensitive spot. 

“I want you,” you whined.

“You have me,” he answered teasingly, his mouth only a fraction of an inch away from yours. He dragged his finger down and dipped into your entrance. “Fuck - you’re so wet.”

“Please…”

At your begging he positioned himself between your legs, removed his fingers, and replaced them with a press of his hips against yours, the tip of his cock firm against your slit.  

Your hands grappled to hold on to any part of him you could, eventually landing on his shoulders. Gripping tightly, your fingertips dug into his skin. You wrapped your ankles around his calves and felt the way his body fit perfectly against yours.

The first thrust inside you was slow. Every inch of your body pulled tight around him as he sank deeper. Your breath hitched as a wave of pleasure raced through you. 

“Fuck,” Harry rasped as he rocked into you. The sound of his voice sent a tingle down your spine. “I love you so much,” he whispered into your skin, brushing a kiss across your jaw. 

You said it back to him as the two of you moved against each other, getting lost in the feelings of love and undulating pleasure between you. 

———

You and Harry spent the rest of the day immersed in one another in your private villa. 

The last go around, you unraveled together with his face buried in your neck while you were clutched tight around him. 

He pulled out and collapsed beside you, trying to catch his breath. 

You turned on your side to look at him, flooded with warmth and giddiness as you acknowledged how handsome he was. You used the tip of your finger to trace the lines of his face. The sharp cut of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the full of his lips. As you were about to trace your thumb over his eyebrow he grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lips. 

“Thank you again for suggesting we go to Holmes Chapel after this,” he said against your hand, still pressed to his lips. 

“Of course,” You moved closer to him and he let go of your hand in order to wrap his arms around you. “You can go home whenever you want, you know.” 

He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “I know. It’s easier to go when I know you’re coming with me.”

You hummed in understanding and pressed your lips against his chest.

“I should give Jeffrey a call and ask him to make the travel arrangements for us… And postpone my meetings.” 

As if on cue, his phone’s ringtone chimed from his tote bag on the floor by the door. He was reluctant to let go of you, but you gave him a look of approval that had him scrambling out of the bed to retrieve it. You took the opportunity to admire his naked body, silently thanking the Italian sun and his morning cardio routine for the glorious sight of him. 

You felt a warmth in your chest, though, at the smile that grew on his face when he looked down at his phone to see who was calling.

“Hey mum, yeah….guess what…I’m coming home.”

———

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think. 

[pray4saint]

could you do a masc!reader x dom!dream with sex on stream? where the reader is streaming with dream and dream has the remote control to the readers toy hehe

keep quiet

masterlist & descrip. rated r. 16+. masc!reader. almost exhibitionism.

a/n. i will try to do this right lmfao i haven't written masc!reader in a hot minute

agreeing to this was definitely a mistake. the cock ring was one thing but the vibrator was entirely different.

you had been playing on the hypixel server for hours, and spending a considerable amount of time on bedwars. clay had been texting you, trying to get your attention. all you could do at the time was glance quickly at your phone before returning your attention to your monitor.

loverboy 💘: baby come to bed loverboy 💘: i miss you :( loverboy 💘: please come nap w me

then there was radio silence and you figured he'd just gone to sleep.

loverboy 💘: fine then fuck you

still, all you did was glance down at the text quickly but you didn't register it fully, mind still focused on the game in front of you.

all of a sudden chat was exploding, asking if you were okay and what was going on. you'd just yelped a near-moan on stream. that sick son of a bitch. ”sorry about that, i just remembered i forgot to check if amazon refunded my order.” you paused your game, your cock still twitching under your sweats.

your contact name: turn it off loverboy 💘: no loverboy 💘: you should've listened to me your contact name: wtf ur so mean loverboy 💘: i can be meaner :) your contact name: wait no

”shit.” your words again worried chat. ”m'fine chat. sorry, they just fuck– fucked somethin' up.” you plastered on a smile, looking down at your phone. the stimulation from the vibrator in your ass just would've been hard enough, but shocks it sent to your cock ring-covered-dick made it almost impossible to concentrate.

loverboy 💘: keep playing sweetheart

you knew he meant 'keep playing or i'm only gonna make this worse for you' but he wouldn't say that. hesitantly you reached for your mouse and clicked to continue. ”hold on guys, i gotta restart my match.” as much as you wanted to text him, beg him to turn it off, you knew it wouldn't work.

if you could, you would've marched right into your shared bedroom and taken the remote, except there was no remote. it was an app on his phone.

it was gonna be a long evening as long as he had his phone.

pray4saint© do not copy, translate or repost my work without my express permission.

[thatgirlchallenge]

Accountability

I am kind of thinking about streaming my studies, I think it would help hold myself even more accountable and improve even more.

Lately, I've been honestly doing great, but I know I can do so much better.

For example, the challenge of not using my phone right in the morning and right before sleeping, has been unccessful so far. I didn't even start day one, and I am honestly disappointed at myself whenever I grab my phone first thing in the morning.

I know it takes time to improve yourself, like I've been doing great when it comes to studying, lifestyle ( diet, etc..) and finance, but it's my overall self I want to improve.

I want to improve in my hobbies ( chess, art, writing, etc...). Even though, I deleted a lot of my social media ( which is honestly super great, ESPECIALLY tiktok), I still spend a considerable amount on my phone. At least, I am learning stuff on youtube about a lot of different topics, but still, I should control my phone time better...

I will start the challenge tonight. It doesn't matter if I failed this morning. No phone after 7:30pm.

[accio-victuuri]

I don’t know how people are interpreting it as they do but i’m all ears and on the cpn train on this. you can allegedly make out the profile pictures so we can sort of know who he is talking to. anyway, just treat it as a fake story. tho i’m trying to remember if there was a video of this, i remember xz’s close up when he said he is a salted fish and just lying there but nothing else.

my eyes are not built for this kind of investigation but it’s voice messages and xz sent one that is only 2 seconds long. so it’s probably just him asking wyb what are you doing? and then the response is a 16 second voice message from wyb, so the length tells us he probably said what he’s doing. what an obedient puppy. 🥹🥹🥹 it just gets me that they spend a considerable amount of time together during their shoots but xz still does this. i can imagine he has tons of other things to look at on his phone or people to message, but it’s wyb that he thinks of to pester.

after he sends something back and it’s a video. most likely a close up video of where he is and what he’s doing. I mean. Peak bro behavior? lol. He’s not even doing something cool to show off and send WYB right? I can understand if one does that, or send a video of the view. But like, send a video of yourself to WYB with this perspective & much closer:

What’s the motive there? 😏

This isn’t even the most sus thing they did during filming so yeah. They are so sweet 😤😤😤

source.

[thebindingofpillo]

Phone working now!! :D already wrote this out in Notes so I just stuck with this, but sidenote: if you do a fourth part of the ask event (you don’t gotta if you don’t wanna) then may I suggest an ask event about the familiars? I ❤️ tboi familiars.

Hiiiiii technically it was against the rules of the event (the familiars weren’t mentioned in the characters available) BUT I’m still gonna talk about some Lore and uuuuuh it’s not going to be pretty. Sorry. Warning for implied child abuse and neglect and abandonment I guess?

Okay so. I’d be lying if I said I thought about the tboi familiars. My AU doesn’t take place in the Basement, so I guess the closest thing they can be here is baby demons. You can learn more about demons (here), but as far as children go, I haven’t really thought about how demons are born and grow up. I guess it depends on the demon? There’s an insane amount of variety in Hell, and this doesn’t even take into consideration humans-turned-demons.

Sooooo baby demons right? I’m sorry to say there’s no nursery in Hell. Or caretakers. Or anything.

Children are seen as a liability at worst and as an asset at best. Unions between demons are never out of love, and two demons ending up together is usually a matter of convenience, or to secure an alliance. Any children resulting from these types of unions are usually a bargaining tool, new soldiers for Satan’s army, or just discarded completely. Or even eaten. I’m sure that happens too, it’s hell after all. Demons in general are horrible parents, and it’s not uncommon for baby demons to be completely abandoned, even right after birth. If they’re not found in time by Big Horn, they usually die, or worse, they can be brought to Satan.

The only other one who values children is ironically Satan himself, as he sees kids as a way to grow his personal army to eventually take down God. Some demons looking for his favour might offer their children to him, but to say he actually cares about them would be a stretch. Satan basically turns them into soldiers the moment they’re able to stand and fight.

Not every demon gives away their children to Satan tho, since most demons and fallen angels fucking hate the guy. Semjaza himself has been devising a way to take him down and rule hell in his place, but that doesn’t really involve children since he can’t stand them. The usual course of action for a demon mom is to leave her children somewhere after birth and never think about them again. Sorry :(

Big Horn is the only one in Hell who actually cares for children for the sake of children, and when he’s not working as a spy for Heaven, he spends his time combing through Hell to look for discarded babies and give them a home. He has a couple of safe spots where he can leave the kids, but he usually keeps them on his person at all times, to protect them better. Leaving them alone for any amount of time can be extremely dangerous, and since Big Horn is a very big guy, nobody comes close enough to him to bother or notice he’s hiding a secret stash of kids. BUT he’s not the biggest guy around, and if Satan found out he’s been keeping children from him, he’s gonna rip the guy in half himself.

But wait! I hear you cry, What about Lilith? She must love children, right? Why doesn’t she help? Well…….. Lilith does love children! That much is true but, she hates Hell and everything in it, so she got out of there the first chance she got. (You can read her backstory here). Incubus is not one of her children (I don’t even know if she had any while she was under Satan) he’s just a lesser demon who latched onto her and they became friends. (You can read about him here).

Ough man, this got way longer than I thought skdjshgsdfkjh Sorryyyyy I know it was just a simple question but It was another great opportunity to loredump, and I never pass up on those. Have some babies as compensation

[fiixer]

Pros and Cons of Dating my Muse

Pros:

You'll want for nothing.  Jordi's got money all over the place, and he's got no problem spending it on other people he deems worth it.

You want a specific kind of car, even just to drive around for a single day? Want to get in to some big, exclusive event? Your friend is in jail and you want to get them out? He's just a phone call away. At no cost to you.

He's perfect for the independent types, as he's definitely not one to smother people. You're free to do your own thing, whenever you want; he's not going to get mad if you've got other plans, or just aren't feeling up to whatever; you do you, just call him later when you've got a second. No problem.

Most people will leave you alone. Whether they're aware of his reputation or not, Jordi has no problem driving weirdos - or just...normal people - away.

Let's be honest here: Jordi's a goddamn riot. He'll keep things interesting by just ... being Jordi.

Totally fine with it being a super casual relationship. In fact, that's probably his first choice, but if things happen, then things happen and he'll figure it out, one way or another.

NSFW here but getting intimate, there's only a handful of things that are Hard No's from him. If you want to try something, there's a damn good chance he'll be down to give it a shot.

He notices everything. It's a talent he's honed over the years, to pick up the little details most might overlook. This will come back at you as things like, I saw you staring at this yesterday so I went back and got it for you, or randomly feeling those hands that are entirely capable of snapping you neck squeezing your shoulders if he notices added tension in you, or him laying back on a couch or something with an arm out and a C'mere while he's inviting you to lay on/with him, and just talking at you as a distraction if he knows something's bugging you.

Probably won't accept a contract on you, no matter how many zeroes are on the paycheck.

Cons:

....buuut still might accept a contract on you. It'd be easy money, after all, especially if you've been together for a considerable amount of time and he knows you trust him, even a little.

He kills people. For a living. Not exactly someone most people want to bring home to meet Mom.

He won't make the relationship public. Period. It's fine if other people know you're acquainted and all, but together? A couple? Nope, that's not going to be a thing..which means absolutely no PDA. I suppose this could be a pro for some folks out there, but still.

While most of those aware of his reputation will likely leave you alone, you still may end up with a giant target on your back courtesy of those who wanna test their luck, because anyone finding out that Jordi got soft on someone means potential leverage. Or a way to exact a little revenge on him. Either way, not a good thing.

He travels a lot. There may be times when he'll invite you along, but 99% of the time, it means a considerable time apart.

His job is dangerous. Jordi may be one of the best, but things happen, and, well....

A brick wall will be better at acknowledging feelings. He doesn't deal with that love nonsense very well, especially at first, and when that stuff suddenly starts popping up when you're around, Jordi might get mean in response.

It'll take him a while to agree to anything exclusive, because Jordi Chin don't do that shit.

Tagged by:  stole it off my other blog

Tagging:  steal it & @ me!