#it just put everything into words perfectly

[love4myg]

early mornings

summary. when time seems to bend every morning and love speaks through tender touches and quiet reassurances.

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pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: established relationship au, tooth-rotting fluff

word count: 1k

content: yoongi and oc wake up in each others arms / they love each other a bit too much and they make it pretty clear / they kiss a lot :3

warnings: fear of abandonment (kind of? if you squint??), allusions to sex

notes: idk why i'm procrastinating the third part of 'stumble into you' so bad, but this is a result of me still wanting to write something. also, ignore the images at the top if they don’t go well together, i’m too lazy to actually put in effort today 😭 likes, reblogs, comments, and asks are all greatly appreciated!! i love you guys and i hope you enjoy <33333

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Amber rays spill across the room, seeping between the gaps in the curtains and kissing your bare skin with its golden warmth.

Yoongi stirs under the sheets, attempting to untangle his limbs from you, who lay beside him. But your arms only tighten around him, and he quickly gives in to the comforts of your touch.

With your head on his chest and his arm secure under your head, he can't help the lazy smile that draws across his lips.

He's always loved early mornings with you; when neither of you have to think about anything else but each other; when time feels like it ceases to exist; when nothing else mattered, because why would it when you had each other?

You were his home; his universe; his first thought in the morning and the most frequent visitor of his dreams. Everything reminded him of you, and it was maddening. But he welcomed the longing with open arms, because he was a fool.

Because he knew that it was worth being foolish if it meant having you.

Yoongi places a kiss on your forehead, his lips pressing against a few strands of hair that lay messily across your face. The scent of your skin, faintly sweet like the lavender soap you use, lingers in the air as Yoongi buries his nose in your hair, taking in the quiet of the morning, broken only by the soft hum of your breathing. He moves his hand to rest over yours, running the pad of his thumb over your knuckles.

He doesn't expect the gentle action to wake you, but your eyes flutter open. You hum, the sound quiet and laced with exhaustion as you stretch out your body.

Your eyes light up when you meet his gaze and the butterflies in his stomach erupt, fluttering around wildly.

"Morning," you whisper. You peck his lips with a soft kiss.

"Morning," Yoongi echoes. A faint blush paints his features, and a giggle tumbles from your mouth. Yoongi catches the sound with another kiss; then a third one that lingers for a few seconds longer than the others.

It is almost embarrassing to admit the effect you had on him. You've been together for years, and known each other for even more. He knows every dip and curve of your body and you have seen him through all of his highs and lows. Yet, a kiss from you still has him blushing.

"Missed me?" you tease, and he hums in agreement.

"A lot." He kisses corner of your lips and the curve of your jaw. "You're so pretty."

You laugh; a soft sound that rings through the air. It has always been Yoongi's favourite melody-the one sound that made his heart swell and his eyes crinkle into crescent moons to accommodate his growing smile.

He tucks a few strands of your hair behind your ear, letting his hand stay to cup your cheek so that he can bring his lips to yours again. He’s addicted to the way your lips fit perfectly with his, and no matter how often he kisses you, it’s never enough

And you can't stop smiling.

The feeling that courses under your skin is almost overwhelming. It still feels surreal—that kind of love, where just being with him made the world right

The possibility of losing Yoongi terrifies you, but it's a fear that follows you everyday. Sometimes, you expect to wake up one day only to realise that this is all a cruel dream, or to find the house suddenly void of his belongings and his presence.

Sometimes, the fear creeps in before you can stop it, a quiet panic that gripped you in the space between sleep and waking. You’d reach out, half-afraid to find the bed cold and empty. But then, your hand would meet the warmth of his skin, and the fear dissolved into nothing. Because every morning, he's here. Solid, warm, and real, wrapped up in the sheets beside you. His sleepy eyes, the soft curve of his lips, the way he pulls you closer as if you’re his anchor—it’s all so undeniably Yoongi, and it makes your heart flutter with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude.

You press your forehead to his, noses brushing, as if the closer you hold him, the more real this will become. Yoongi's fingers trail lightly over your skin, tracing invisible patterns that make you shiver.

“You’re thinking too much,” he murmurs, voice raspy but tender, like he's always known your thoughts even before you speak them.

You let out a soft sigh, trying to find the words, but they dissolve on your tongue when his hand glides over your waist, settling at the small of your back.

“You’re here,” you whisper, more to yourself than him. It's a quiet confession of the relief that washes over you each time you wake up to find him still beside you. He smiles against your skin, a low hum of agreement in his throat. "I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here."

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, his voice carrying the weight of every unspoken assurance. "You know that I'll always be right here-right beside you, whenever you need me."

For a moment, the world falls away. There’s no fear of loss, no dread of waking up alone. It’s just him, his presence grounding you, his breath steady and warm against your neck. The intimacy of the moment swells between you, a shared heartbeat that drowns out the rest of the world.

Your legs tangle beneath the sheets as he pulls you even closer, his hand finding yours under the covers. His touch is gentle, tender, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you, and in the glow of the early morning, you feel more connected to him than ever.

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his skin seep into yours, feeling utterly safe in his embrace.

And in that moment, you know—this is home.

[sluttywonwoo]

the roster | part one of three

pairing: christopher bahng + lee sangyeon + choi seuncheol x f!reader

summary: what happens when all the guys on your roster find out about each other?

warnings: see here (mdni!!!)

word count: 4.4k

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You’d been set up. You should have known something was off when Sangyeon texted you to come over. He never texted you first. He was the most reserved of the three, always letting you be the one to reach out to him if you wanted to hook up. 

You shot him an accusatory glare but he pointedly avoided your gaze, choosing instead to stare at something on the ceiling that was apparently much more interesting.  

Seungcheol was the first to speak, of course. “Did you really think we wouldn’t find out?” 

You figured there was no point in lying. They already had you cornered. “Yeah, kind of.” The three of them scoffed in unison, making you hold up your hands in defense. “I didn’t know you guys knew each other like that!”

In fact, you had chosen each of them precisely because you thought there wouldn’t be any conflicts of interest. They were all in different groups, all the leaders of said groups which you thought would mean that they were almost always busy with their members. You didn’t think they had time for friends. Let alone friends who were of different ages and also leaders. 

Chris was the biggest gamble. You knew that he knows almost everyone in the industry and has a lot of friends but you didn’t think he knew the other two guys you were fucking well enough to put together that you were actually sleeping with all of them. 

Everything had been going so well. You had perfected your system over the months, using the boys’ schedules to your advantage so there was never any overlap. Seungcheol got weekends, Sangyeon got Wednesdays and Fridays, and Chris got 3ams on Tuesdays, Thursdays, (and sometimes Fridays if you weren’t sleeping over at Sangyeon’s) because that’s just when he was free. You keep your Mondays and the last full week of every month free so that you have time for yourself. Otherwise you’d drive yourself crazy spending all your time with men. 

You had never agreed to be exclusive with any of them. You made it more than clear that wasn’t what you were looking for. Still, they must have thought you weren’t seeing anyone else because all three of them had shown up to this confrontation and all three of them looked pissed. 

“Is it just the three of us?” Chris chimes in. 

“How much time do you think I have?” you mutter. 

“Just answer the question.”

You look away from them. “Yeah, there’s no one else.”

“Lucky us,” Seungcheol sneers. 

“Hey, you’re the one who said you wanted something casual,” you remind him, your tone icy. “You wanted to sleep around with no strings attached and I agreed.”

You’ve known Seungcheol the longest. You were friends first, through your job, but it quickly turned into something more. You couldn’t keep your hands off each other, spending nights and mornings together. Going to sleep and waking up and stealing kisses in elevators. Talking on the phone for hours and planning dates in the different cities he was touring in. 

He shut you down before you could get too delusional about it, though, stating plainly that all he wanted was a strict friends-with-benefits sort of situation. You still remember the feeling of your throat burning as you fought back tears, telling him that was perfectly fine, that you felt the same way. 

You couldn’t let yourself get too attached to a man who didn’t want you in the same way you wanted him so you looked for a distraction and found one in Lee Sangyeon. You met him through Jacob, a younger member of his group. Sangyeon was the perfect distraction. He was charming and funny, never one to take himself too seriously. He was a real gentleman and it didn’t hurt that he had a huge dick. 

You were the one to broach the topic of nonexclusivity with him this time, wanting to beat him to it. You knew exactly what all of these idols wanted. Choi Seungcheol had taught you that lesson early on. Sangyeon took it well, at least, as well as you expected him to. He told you he was on the same page as you, that he was just looking for something casual and you believed him. Now, looking at the expression on his face as he listens to the two other men talk, you’re not sure. 

And then Chris just sort of fell into your lap. You weren’t looking for anything else. Juggling two men was enough work. You just so happened to run into him at some after party, stopping him to compliment his music. One thing led to another and you were shoving your tongue down his throat in a dark closet. Apparently he had a thing for praise. 

Neither of you had to be the one to friend(swithbenefits)zone the other. You brought it up one night as you laid in his bed together and he was quick to agree. 

“Yeah, I don’t have time for anything more than... this, right now,” he sighed. He sounded a little regretful about it, like he thought he was being an asshole despite you voicing the same sentiment. 

So you hadn’t been doing anything wrong- even if your brain liked to tell you otherwise sometimes. You defined the (non)relationships with each of them, used protection with all of them, you weren’t leading anyone on... it had just so happened to get a little bit... messy, for lack of a better word. 

-

“No strings attached doesn’t mean I want you to fuck my friends!” Seungcheol huffs, running a hand through his hair. 

“I didn’t know you were friends with them!” you cry, throwing your head back onto the back of the couch in frustration and accidentally banging your head against the wall in the process. 

“Are you okay?” Sangyeon asks, wincing. 

The other two side-eye him. 

“I’m fine. But why am I here? Did you bring me here just to yell at me?”

“Not exactly,” Chris says, smirking. 

You look to the other men for an explanation but neither of them offer any further explanation. 

“Then why?”

Chris slides his hands in his front pockets and shrugs. “Well, if you’re up for it, the three of us thought we might have a little fun with you.”

“What does that mean?”

Seungcheol steps forward and mirrors Chan’s stance, cocking his head to the side for good measure. You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes, knowing it would only make things worse for you. 

To be fair, all the posturing would be a lot more annoying if they weren’t the hottest men you’d ever seen in your life. 

“I think you know what that means,” Cheol adds, supplying absolutely nothing helpful. 

“Obviously I don’t or I wouldn’t have asked,” you argue. 

Seungcheol whistles and then looks to his friends. “Is she this bratty with you guys?” Chris gives an ‘eh’ hand motion whilst Sangyeon nods outright. “Yeah, I figured.”

“Did you think you were getting special treatment?” you taunt, surprising even yourself. 

He scowls but doesn’t respond, probably in an effort to maintain some semblance of self-control in front of the other two. If it were just you and him, you’d have a hand around your throat already. And maybe that’s what you wanted. Maybe your mouth was working faster than your brain in order to get a specific... reaction out of them like you normally would. Or maybe your mouth just liked to get you in trouble. 

From the way they were acting, they obviously hadn’t lured you here just to hang out. It had to be some sort of sex thing, right? You certainly weren’t opposed, you just needed to figure out what game they were playing so that you could be dealt in. 

“We were curious about which one of us you like the most,” Chris says finally. At least someone was interested in getting to the fucking point. 

You blink at him then turn to look at Seungcheol who just nods in confirmation. “You want me to... rank you? Why?”

“You’re the one who has us on a little roster,” Sangyeon points out, sounding a little mean for the first time tonight. “Surely you’ve thought about it before.”

You shake your head. “I haven’t. I mean, I like all of you guys! I wouldn’t hang out with you if I didn’t.”

“We don’t care about hanging out, we want to know who you think is the best in bed,” Seungcheol clarifies. 

“What?”

“You know, who’s the best fuck?”

“Why do you even care?” you ask. “Like what are you getting out of this?”

“Just a little competition between friends,” Chris assures you with a wink. 

“I... wouldn’t even know where to start,” you insist. 

“We thought you might say that,” Seungcheol hums as he steps closer to you. “Which is why we thought we could test it in real time.”

“In real time?”

“Yeah, let us fuck you, then you tell us who’s best.”

“Right now?” 

Seungcheol shrugs. “You asked why we brought you here.”

“And you just assumed I’d be down?”

“Yeah,” all three of them say at the same time. 

It’s your turn to scoff. So that’s what they think of you. You shouldn’t have expected anything different, to be fair. It wasn’t like you were a saint. You literally had your dick appointments with all of them penciled into your Google Calendar every week. 

“C’mon, baby, we know you by now,” Chris adds, plopping down on the sofa next to you. He stretches his arm across the back of it like guys like to do, opening himself up for you to lean into him if you wanted to. “Are you saying you don’t want us to take turns fucking your brains out?”

You stay silent. 

“Should we take that as a yes?” Sangyeon asks. 

“I’d say so,” Chris agrees.

Seungcheol claps his hands together decisively and then points to the man sitting next to you. “Chan, you’re up first then, yeah? That’s how you do it in your group, right? Youngest first?”

He’s mocking him but Chris doesn’t acknowledge it. If there’s one thing you know about Bang Chan, it’s that he’s not one to back down from a challenge, and while going first in this sort of competition must be daunting he doesn’t look the least bit shaken. 

“Are we doing this here?” he asks the older two. 

Sangyeon considers it and shrugs. “We should probably move to the bed, right?” 

“Dude, it’s your house.”

“There’s more room on the bed,” Sangyeon decides, offering you his hand. 

You take it and he helps you up from the couch. You step in front of the boys and lead them to Sangyeon’s bedroom, calling “it’s this way,” over your shoulder just to be a menace. You can’t see the faces they make behind you but you hear Sangyeon chuckle under his breath. 

You flick on one of his table lamps and make yourself comfortable on the bed, patting the spot next to you for Chris to join you. He does and puts a hand on your thigh, squeezing your thigh comfortingly. Seungcheol and Sangyeon lean against the dresser across from the bed in the most non-awkward way they can manage. 

Somehow, they both still look intimidating despite the fact that they’re essentially about to be cucked by one of their closest friends. 

“What now?” you ask. 

Chris brings one of his hands up to cup your cheek and leans in. “Now, we do this.”

He kisses you gently at first. Whether it’s to ease your nerves or his own, you aren’t sure, but he starts slow, building up to what you’re used to. His thumb strokes your cheek as if to reassure you as he deepens the kiss and slips his tongue into your mouth. His other hand that had been resting on your hip fumbles with your pants. 

“Just pretend they aren’t there,” he whispers. 

It’s impossible to do when you can feel the weight of their stares on you but you try to relax anyway, reminding yourself that something like this has been a fantasy of yours for a while now. You never thought it would actually happen and you definitely didn’t think it would be with them but with your luck you honestly shouldn’t be as surprised as you are. 

“This isn’t going to work if you don’t relax,” Chris continues, low enough for only you to hear. “I kind of have something to prove here.”

“You don’t have anything to prove,” you assure him. “You’re great in bed.”

“They don’t know that,” he hisses. 

“Sorry, sorry, I forgot this is just a competition to you guys,” you grumble. 

He chuckles. “What, you want me to make love to you in front of them? Because I will.”

“I think that’d be even more embarrassing, somehow.” 

“Exactly, now lay down and let me fuck you brainless so you can’t overthink anymore.”

He had such a way with words, that Bang Chan did. 

He shifts so you can lay down and take your pants off. Your shirt goes next, leaving you in just your underwear. It’s the most exposed you’ve ever felt even though you’ve been completely naked in front of all three men before. 

Chris snaps the elastic waistband of your cotton panties against your hip and smirks. “Cute.”

You pout, ready to defend your granny panties but Sangyeon pipes up from the other side of the room before you can.

“She doesn’t care what she wears over to mine because she knows it won’t stay on long anyway.”

That was actually true. You dressed the most comfortably to hang out with Sangyeon because you knew he wouldn’t care. It wasn’t like Chris or Seungcheol cared more, and you didn’t really dress up for them either, but there was a notable difference between the amount of effort you put in for each man, something you hadn’t noticed until just now. 

“She wet yet?” Seungcheol asks, sounding bored. 

You know it’s just a front so his jealousy and impatience won’t shine through because it’s not a very good one. Seungcheol is not and never has been good at hiding his feelings. 

Chris shoots him a look. “I was getting to that.” 

Seungcheol holds his hands up in defense but thankfully keeps his mouth shut. 

Chris sucks in a breath of patience and brings his hand in between your legs, fingers tracing your slit. Your cheeks grow warm with embarrassment because you are, in fact, wet. You have been since they sat you down and stood in front of you like you were going to be scolded for doing something wrong. 

“Yeah, she’s fucking wet,” Chris rasps. “Jesus Christ, baby. I bet your joggers are ruined too.”

His teasing makes you try to close your thighs around his hand but his reflexes beat yours and he catches your knee to force your legs back open. 

“Nice try.”

“You’re the worst.”

His fingers start to wander beneath the fabric of your panties, feather light touches that already have you gasping for breath. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do, I really do.”

“Want me to stop?” he threatens.

“What happened to having something to prove?” you mutter back. 

“Always such a fucking brat,” he muses, jaw tight. 

“Don’t act like you don’t love that about me.”

“You’re consistent, I’ll give you that.”

Chris leans down and kisses you again, presumably to get you to stop talking. It works, of course. He lets his tongue explore your mouth while his hands explore your body, still not giving you what you really want. 

Eventually, he slips a finger inside, taking you by surprise and making you gasp as you grab at him for something to squeeze. He offers you his arm and you take it, fingernails digging into his bicep. 

“It’s just one finger, baby,” Chris coos. 

“Feels.... good, though,” you squeak. 

He adds another right as you start to get used to the feeling of the first and you have to take a deep breath to keep yourself from making another embarrassing noise. 

“Don’t hold back. Let the boys know how good I’m making you feel.”

Seungcheol scoffs, tonguing his cheek. “You don’t have to fake it for him, babe.” 

“Are you sure you guys are friends?” you pant. 

They don’t answer, leaving you to draw the conclusions yourself. You’re sure they were friends... whether they would be after this was another story. 

Chris crooks his fingers up, knowing you won’t be able to stay quiet once he does. He’s right. You moan, albeit quietly, and arch into his touch. 

“So what are the parameters of this competition?” Chris asks the other two and turns his head towards them while he continues to work his fingers in and out of you. 

“What do you mean?” Sangyeon asks back. 

“Like, does foreplay count? Or is she judging solely based on our stroke game?”

Seungcheol considers it for a moment before looking to Sangyeon. “What do you think?”

“I think the judgment should include foreplay,” he says. “Foreplay is part of sex after all.”

“Good point,” Chris agrees. “Any other rules?” They shake their heads. “What about you, baby? Do you have any rules for us?”

You purse your lips as you think, trying not to lose focus with his fingers inside of you. “Just don’t go too hard. I do have to work on Monday.”

It’s only Friday night now, but knowing them, you’ll probably be sore for at least a couple of days afterward. 

Chris laughs. “We’ll do our best. Right, guys?”

They mumble what sounds like an agreement and Sangyeon even gives you a thumbs-up. 

“Can I keep going?” Chris asks you. 

“You didn’t really stop,” you point out.

He had still been fingering you lazily throughout the whole aside. It wasn’t enough to get you off but it was certainly distracting. You had to try very hard to concentrate on what they were saying. 

“C’mon, this is nothing,” he teases, bringing his thumb to your clit as he starts to kiss your neck. “How’s that?” he murmurs into your ear, 

“G-good...”

“Just good? Must be doing something wrong, then.”

Before you can deny it, he adds a third finger, earning a loud cry from you this time. You feel him grin against your throat, hiding his smug satisfaction from the other two. 

“Spread your legs wider for me, baby. Let them see.”

You do as you’re told even though it’s hard. It’s so much. You want to squeeze them around his hand again but you know you’ll only get told off if you do. 

“Good girl,” he praises, making you whimper. 

“That’s all it takes, doesn’t it?” Seungcheol mutters. “We just have to call you a good girl and you’re making a mess all over us, right?”

You squirm, arousal and embarrassment pooling in your belly. You can tell Chris wants to give Cheol shit for butting in when it’s supposed to be his turn, but he doesn’t because his words are technically helping him. You get even wetter around his fingers, a detail Chris elects not to share with the room. 

You’re sure they can see it, though, or at least hear it. The sounds are obscene. 

It’s mortifying. You want to die. But first you want to cum. 

Two of your favorite things about Chris are his hands. They’re huge, especially for a guy his height, and absolutely gorgeous. Thick veins run across the backs of them from his knuckles up through his forearms- he’s a nurse’s wet dream, and yours. You’ve spent an absurd amount of time tracing them with your own fingers when you’re laying in bed together after hooking up and more often than not, it’s enough to make you want to go again. 

He’s good with them too because of course he is. Bang Chan is annoyingly good at everything he does, including but not limited to: making you cum. 

“Already?” Chris muses under his breath. “Does having an audience turn you on that much?”

“Sh-shut up.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone who can take their fingers away any time they want to.”

“No, please!” you protest.

“That’s what I thought. Do you want to cum on my fingers? Or should I make you wait for it?” He’s talking to himself at this point but you answer anyway. 

“I-I don’t know...”

“Probably should let you, huh? You’re still so tight.”

You don’t get another word out before it hits you, your body curling in on Chan’s hand as he finger fucks you through your first orgasm of the night. As soon as you come down, he’s taking his fingers out of you and sucking them into his mouth, kissing you right after so you can taste yourself on his lips. 

“Good job, baby,” he murmurs into your mouth as he adds his tongue back into the mix. “Ready for me now?”

“Mhm...”

“Condoms are in the nightstand,” Sangyeon says, nodding in the direction of the bedside table. 

Chris reaches over and pulls the drawer out, whistling at the other things he finds rolling around in the compartment. 

“This hers?” he asks, holding up a vibrator.

“Who else’s would it be?” Sangyeon mutters. 

“I don’t know what you do in your free time, man.”

He drops the toy back in its place and grabs a condom from the box tucked in the corner of the same drawer. The odds of one size fitting three different men were slim, but having slept with each of them you’re sure they’ll be able to make it work. 

Chris hands you the foil packet, allowing you to do the honors of tearing it open with your teeth while he works on getting naked. 

Seungcheol whistles jeeringly at Chan as he takes his cock out and pumps it a couple of times. You can see the back of Chan’s neck flush red but he remains steady as he rolls the latex on. You realize it must be difficult for him to have an audience too, though he has nothing to be self conscious about. Even if they aren’t showing it, you know the other two have to be impressed.

He’s the perfect balance of long and thick and just like his hands, defined veins run up the length of his shaft. You’ve spent what feels like hours tracing those veins with your tongue, watching him shiver under your touch. Most dicks aren’t pretty but Christopher Bahng’s certainly is.

“Ready?” Chris asks, rubbing your thigh with his palm.  

“Yeah,” you breathe.

Since he already made you cum, he’s able to slip in without much resistance- but he’s big enough that the stretch is still intense, making your eyes roll back in pleasure as you stifle a whimper. 

He gives you a moment to adjust once he’s fully inside you, teasing only a little bit with slight movements of his hips. 

“God, that feels good,” you moan.

“I know, baby,” he murmurs sweetly, “you’re taking it so well for me.”

He brushes a couple of strands of hair out of your eyes so that you can see him properly. Obstructed view or not, he’s beautiful on top of you. His own bangs have already started to stick to his forehead and the pink flush of embarrassment has somewhat faded and turned into that of exertion, spreading from the back of his neck to his chest and face and matching the kiss-bitten swell of his lips. The muscles in his arms and shoulders are engaged with the effort it takes to hold himself above you, making him look even bigger. 

His eyes are soft, even as the rest of his features take on a more sinister expression. That was one of the things that made sex with Chris so good. He genuinely cares for you, not just as a lover, but as a person. Lots of guys put effort into making the other party feel good during sex but that doesn’t mean they care about them. It’s not like that with Chris. 

“Want it faster?” he asks you. You nod. “Ask nicely.”

You should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. 

“Please...”

He frees one of his hands and uses it to stroke your cheek. “‘Please,’ what?”

“Faster,” you squeak. 

“Is that the best you can do?” Seungcheol scoffs from the sidelines. 

“I’ll let her off easy this time,” Chris responds. “She can hardly think straight as it is, isn’t that right?”

Another nod. 

You get what you want and Chan picks up the pace, snapping his hips into yours in quick, shallow thrusts. 

“You’re getting tighter again,” he grunts, faltering imperceptibly. “You’re making this too easy for me.”

One of the other two makes what you assume is a snide remark but you don’t catch it because everything starts to fade into the background as you start to cum around Chan’s cock. It catches both of you off guard, you can tell. It isn’t unusual for you to finish from penetration alone but it usually takes a lot longer. 

“Holy shit, you’re so- fuck, you’re going to make me cum.”

He keeps going after you come down, chasing his own release. It’s almost enough to send you into a third orgasm but he cums before you can get there which is both a relief and a disappointment. 

You whine as the feeling ebbs and let yourself go boneless underneath him. He follows suit and collapses face first next to you on the mattress. 

“Sorry,” he whispers to you. “I would’ve kept going but I didn’t want you to be too sensitive for them.”

You nod in understanding and pat him appreciatively on the back. 

The room is quiet as the three men wait for you to catch your breath. Chris ensures you’re okay before rolling off the bed and joining the other two by the dresser. He mentions something about cleaning you up when you’re all done and offers to fetch you a glass of water. 

“There’s a Brita in the fridge,” Sangyeon tells him after also pointing him in the direction of the cabinet that holds the cups. 

He disappears into the hall and you gather what little strength you have to pop your head up and address the two remaining leaders at the foot of the bed. 

“Who’s next?”

this has been in the works for way too long lol but lmk what you think! i always appreciate feedback!!

tags: @minghaosimp @butterfliesinthenightsky @lelestarmy @stolasisyourparent @brownbunnyb @tinkerbell460 @cixrosie

add yourself to the taglist here

[rinnstars]

unsaid goodbye!

forever doesn’t exist: where you and rin grow up and out of each other

itoshi rin x reader : angst, no comfort, post-winter argument with sae, not proofread + likes and reblogs r appreciated <3

you’ve always been by his side, ever since you were little - as though you were tied to him with a red string on your pinky. if not with sae, you practically hovered and orbited around him like the sun to him, the earth. it was nature in the both of you to stick to each other, from the day you saw him from your windows playing football outside his house - perhaps the universe had drawn the both of you together. there wasn’t a doubt in your mind when you ran down the stairs to meet rin for the first time, a miraculous recovery in your parents eyes, being able to get out of bed at all with such high fever. but not even the burning and pounding head, not the suffocating nose nor the aching in your bones that screamed could stop you from opening the door and meeting him. it was a scene out of any romance novel or mangas, love at first sight when you first looked at him in the eye - those doe eyes that turned crescent shaped as a smile enveloped his face.

you’ve been stuck to him like a conjunctioned twin since then - playing with him during break time of kindergarten, letting him purposefully win and even mess around with your toys that paled in comparison to him, sitting beside him in class for the entirety of primary school, waiting for him outside his football club, always waking up by his warm pat on your shoulders. a routine that looped around in your mundane and boring life, he was the firecracker, the climax, the excitement any kid craved. it was almost inscribed into the universe that you would be his, and he would be yours the day you met — a mix between the cold and harsh winter where he became the warm and blooming spring.

a button peeled from both your uniform on graduation day - they say love only exists when youre older, when you’re no longer naive and young, when you’re mature enough but its clear the universe had fated you to be his, and him to be yours. the matching heart beat to the loud music, the shy eye glances as you two dance to the song, the hands interlocking with one another as though it was made to fit his and yours.

but forever doesn’t exist, you learn as you grow up to be fourteen, and so does he.

his dream shatter at his brother’s hand, his heart ripped apart from his chest, still pumping as it laid on the grassy field. he knows, he’s known for the longest time he’ll never match up to his brother, the genius, the prodigy, the best. yet, he cannot forget those words that’s like a sword stabbing at his achilles heel. he hates the way he looked at him, the way he feels like a insignificant insect and a bug to his brother. its rainy. and he’s all wet outside, still sitting at where his heart were ripped out from him, where his corpse should be lying perfectly still waiting for those bugs from the movies to consume. yet, he’s conscious, yet he’s awake, yet he’s not dead yet. and god does he wish to have just died right there and there. for the first time in his life, he glanced at the ball and all he can feel is anger, hatred, envy, bitterness, violence.

his eternity with being the best strikers with his brother is gone. he learns, forever doesn’t exist. but he wants it. he wants to chase this dream, this delusion, this failure all the way. and he puts his life to it - if not to become the best with his brother, who is he? who is itoshi rin compared to his brother? he has to. he has to. there’s no other option in his brain as it yells, screams and screeches at him. and so, he throws away everything in his life to pursue this unattainable, impossible, dream from another parallel universe just to rebel against this cruel fate his brother had set for him.

a day. it only took a day to abandon and leave you far behind in the past - in a faraway fairytale land where you still resided. its too quick, you think, you don’t even realise it. things you’ve taken for granted for - lunchtime, break time between classes, after school, rather than now spending it with you, he was in his own universe he’s crafted for himself. suddenly, you went from his soulmate, his best friend, his girlfriend to just another insignificant background character, meant to be invisible, play a supporting role in a now stranger’s life, be alone. for the first time in your life, itoshi rin stopped orbiting around you. it had always been natural instincts, had always come so naturally to him to stay by your side as though you were magnetic to him. you don’t realise it at first, those small moments, brushing it off as a temporary break considering his football gigs and it being exam season. you were occupied in your own world, that you failed to see that he has drifted off to another galaxy, ran off and abandoned you without you even noticing. fixated on academics, and your clubs, perhaps it was meant to be - the way you had naturally drifted away. your galaxy has occupied others - your new friends, your club friends, your new sibling, and perhaps it was running out of space. maybe, the universe had crafted you two to just be together just temporarily.

but you’re stubborn, you’ve never given yourself to fate - breaking the barriers of illness and pain just to meet him from a simple shared glance, stuck with him as he got outcasted for not playing games right in the world of playgrounds and fairytales, even attempting to play football with him despite your weak legs. and you refused, you denied this inevitable moment. forever. forever exists - fuelled by love stories and mangas and novels you read in the library, you read from your friends house and online - there’s no doubt about it in your heart. and so you run - the same way you’ve ran down the stairs, the same way you’ve ran with him to football clubs, the same way you’ve ran after him all your life with nothing but your heart to give to him - running for a single chance to catch up to his universe, to find him and jump timelines just to stay with him.

sticky notes on his desk to encourage him, love letters shoved carelessly between his books at his home, bento boxes made from scratch according to protein standards and all. all for a glimpse of the light that shone like stars in your mundane world to just glance at you, yet all that returned was nothing, not even a gaze or glance returned. but you were nothing but stubborn, rebelling against the chains of an inevitable separation set by the world. its love, you know it is, and love. love. love. so you try again, buying him soccer books that you know he reads, buying him horror movies and games, buying him all the treats you know he indulges in just for a chance for a smile - a grin that stops the world completely for you, a smile that you wish to commit to your memory for the rest of your life, a laughter that sends dopamine straight up into your brain, yet all that returns is still the same stranger that you can no longer recognise.

your life was shattered the same day his was - a humourless way of fate reinforcing how you and itoshi rin were interlinked, connected, bound together by the cruelty of fate and life. he had become winter instead of the spring that bloomed in your cold and lifeless life filled with little passion and dwelling about.

so you let go. you’ve never given up before - not for exams, not for your clubs, not when there’s a chance. you’ve believed in the impossible, a naive thought, you think looking back. its what growing up is to you - learning to let go so to not get rope burn on yourself that will soon turn into a scar if held too tightly or too long. you let go of itoshi rin, the only one that you loved - your first love, your first friend, your first spring in your illness-filled childhood. you let go of the once routinely horror nights and games where you yelped into him as he laughs. you let go of the calls while playing horror games where you memorised the map at this point. you learn to let go and learn to pass by the football books section of the library and bookshop you still frequent, now with anyone else but the first person you’ve came to him. you learn to stop associating places with him - the bus stop you’ve met every morning until then, the spot in the library where you would study whilst he read english books or football related magazine, the spot in your room where you’ve slept on his shoulder and lap everyday after school without football club in the way. you learn to let go of old trinkets - the first music tape you and he made filled with cliche love songs that you used to listen to everyday, the lucky charm bracelet he had thrown away that night clearly, the letters that he used to write and sneak to you during classes. you learn to find new people outside of the orbit he’s made for you - talking and chattering with new friends that share the same soul, taking care of your little sister that still barely understood the words you spoke, hanging out outside of school to places once filled with memories with new friends that don’t match up to the memories you once shared. you learn to live a little outside of his world - you’ve learnt new instruments, piano singing guitar whatnot, you’ve learnt new skills that he’ll never be there to see, drawing writing baking and what not, you’ve learnt to try new food rather than picking away and putting them on his plate - green beans dark chocolate and lamb meat. you let go of the free periods shared with him - spending it to catch up on your studies, with new people trying new food talking about new things, listening to new songs that wouldn’t merge well with his and yours songs you think.

and its too late for him to turn back time. he wakes up in cold sweat one night, long after you’ve let go he thinks. he wakes up, as though still in that same field where his dreams and corpse laid. he wants to scream but his throat feels as though its burning, its bleeding - he thinks. his voice doesn’t make a single sound as though he’s mute, as though his mouth is taped, suffocating in his own fear and world. yet, for the first time, he wishes he was just a little kid, he was just that naive teenager who didn’t know of the world beyond his galaxy, he was just a kid content with living in his brothers shadow a little longer. he looks at the wall, football posters ripped out in anger that night. the books on football he collected strung on the floor in piles messily, the new dvds of the latest horror movies stuck out in his old trashed out room that he only visits to sleep. for the first time, he recognises the change his room and life has gone through since that night. and for the first time in awhile, he reminisces about you - his first love, his first friend, his first spring. he looks at the lucky charm bracelet he fixed up after in his anger broke it in the field on his desk collecting dust. he looks at the sticky notes he’s taken out of his bag after holidays has arrived, in a pile tied up by a rubber band that is no longer yours. he looks at the empty spot of his bed where you used to lie in during holiday sleepovers, either sleeping or playing with his gaming consoles that your parents refused to get you. he looks at the music tape that is still on his bedside table despite not listening to it ever since he left. he looks at the reminders and trinkets of you and for the first time, he thinks he wished he never grew up that day.

he wants to turn back time, he wants to wish that he would have never went to play football the night sae returned and just stayed at your house for a sleepover as you insisted, he wants to go back to being in your orbit instead of wherever this was in this galaxy that is so dark, alone and cold. if growing up meant letting you go, he suddenly wants to go back to being a naive little child again, he wants to be a teenager again, pretending to be studying behind a textbook with you as you sleep and he reads another football magazine grabbed from the convenience store that he now realised has recently closed down. he wants to go back to how everything was, he wants to travel to a parallel universe where you and him stayed the same, where your hands never let go of each other as you both ran together into the world together.

is it too late? the unnerving continuous beeping of his phone before it goes to ‘caller is busy’ makes him feel so. its sudden, its out of the blue - as though you too had simply flipped a switch on him, locked the doors and left him in the harsh winter. just years ago, on this very day, you’ve ran down from your stairs to meet him - and he swore he saw a snow angel come to life as you greeted him - nose slightly red, puffy cheeks and with a laughter that sounded like music that sends shivers to his spine. just years ago, on this winter day, he met the love of his life, his first love, his forever. your scent had long disappeared from his room now filled with his own that he has no connection nor emotions to. your presence had disappeared apart from the physical gifts you’ve left in your wake. its almost as if you’ve died too that night - was your corpse with him in that grassy field? did you grow up too that night? growing out of him, just like sae. just like everyone in his life. an unsaid goodbye, he wants to scold you, he wants to tear you apart and beg and plead and ask why you’ve abandoned him too. he wants to say a proper goodbye to you before you left too, was he not good enough for that? he wants to be yours still even after all this time, even after all the tears and blood shed after a nightmare has gone by, but you’ve left - and maybe that’s the real nightmare in contrast to the horror movie type of ghost or slasher films he watches.

forever doesn’t exists, he finds out when he leaves school the next day and sees you with new people he doesn’t recognise, with a new hairstyle you’ve never worn with him before, holding new books and humming tunes that he is a stranger to. and god does he think you’re cruel, you’re evil, you’re just like sae for leaving him without another word without any words.

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Thursday

As per the poll results, we are giving Damas stress via Just Plain Silliness. It builds character. Not that I needed an excuse to Inconvenience Characters in the first place 😆 it's become my favorite way of writing anything. Not Angst or Adventure, but Aggravation of Character in ridiculous ways 😂

This falls into the Trespasser au (last "episode" of that found HERE) a bit before the second Arena fight in the game.

The king of Spargus, Jak decided, was a killjoy.

For a city where strength and survival were supposed to be the most important traits, he sure didn't like any of Jak's demonstrations of strength or survival.

"You can't race Leapers in the middle of the market."

"Don't swim over the reef."

"Stop antagonizing the monks."

"You can't race Leapers on neighborhood roofs, either."

"If I told you not to swim over the reef, why would you assume I'd be okay with you feeding the sea monster?!'

It was like he was vehemently opposed to the mere concept of fun.

Jak folded his arms and tried not to roll his eyes while Kleiver complained about the scuffed up suspension and undercarriage on the Dune Hopper. Sure, he'd cut it a little close on the broken bridge, but he'd gotten away with the artifacts and left the Marauders in a two car pile up, so who was the winner, here?

Not Jak, apparently.

Damas listened to Kleiver yell about how he'd have to redo the entire suspension -- a gross exaggeration -- and how there was half a metalhead stuck in the undercarriage. Now that, Jak hadn't known about. When had he run over a metalhead?

"Hey! We didn't do that!" Daxter protested, "How do we know you didn't put that there last time you drove?!"

"Because I don't take the Hopper if I plan to do a run down Turquoise Canyon!" Kleiver snapped.

Damas steepled his fingers in front of his mouth and examined the damaged vehicle.

"One of these days, kid, I swear to Volcan-"

"What?! I got the job done, didn't I?" Jak protested indignantly. "Did you want the Marauders to get their hands on a functioning power cell?"

Damas’s jaw tightened so much that his mouth appeared to be folding inward. He inhaled slowly, and let it out again, ears twitching while he was very obviously counting to ten.

"There are no jumps in the canyon," he said slowly, "So how did you manage this?"

Jak shrugged nonchalantly. "The 'rauders chased us out to the ruins," he explained, "Ran out of turbo, so I had to get creative with the jump."

Kleiver started swearing very creatively under his breath. Damas turned an interesting shade of red.

"That does it."

The king grabbed Jak by the channeling ring and near dragged him out of the garage before Kleiver could clobber someone with a wrench.

"One more stunt like that out of you," Damas threatened, "and I'm entering you into an apprenticeship. Let's see you foment chaos with an actual structure in your day."

"You're not gonna do that," Jak scoffed.

Damas’s eyes narrowed. "Try me."

Jak did not take this nearly as seriously as he ought to have. In fact, he seemed to regard the threat as more instances of Damas "worrying too much". Damas did not worry too much! If anything, he wasn't worried enough about the insanity this young unknown relative had brought into his city! More than one advisor or guildmaster had been privy to the king muttering darkly, "I'm either going to kill him, or start training him myself. I'll let you know when I've figured out which."

And of course, Jak kept being Jak. Climbing the Arena walls because he saw a Precursor orb someone had dropped. Messing around with some kind of evil alien satellite on the beach. Inciting other inhabitants of the youth barracks to join foot races in the barrack halls in the dead hours of night. And he seemed to regard all of this as perfectly normal behavior. It was like all the impulses he'd had to shove down in Haven, all the ways he'd had to be perfect to fit under the yoke of that terrible word, hero, everything came crashing down in Spargus. He had almost no limits here, and that kind of freedom seemed to awaken a wildness that was above the paygrade of the dorm supervisor.

It came to the point where Damas was actually allowing the kid to go out into a sandstorm, just to get some of that boundless energy out! It wouldn't have been his first choice. Or even his tenth. But the storm rolling in was much larger than anything else they'd seen that summer. And for all his recklessness, Jak was their fastest driver.

"Four scouts have not reported in," the king told Jak and Daxter. His face was grim. "Two just set off their emergency beacons. At the rate this storm is going-"

He shook his head, cutting off his sentence.

Daxter had worried that Spargus would be another Krew situation at first. But here was the king of the cranky lizard-riders, flipping out because a handful of scouts -- one of the lowest ranks in the city -- weren't accounted for before a deadly storm.

In Haven, their absence wouldn't have even been noticed until roll call.

The old timers in the market were right, weren't they? "King's eyes see all." This guy watched everyone like a hawk, didn't he? Daxter wasn't sure if that bothered him, or if it just reminded him of Jak.

He supposed that was fitting, considering the two were probably related, no matter how in denial Jak seemed to be about being an Heir of Mar.

"Where's the Crawler right now?" Jak asked.

The mobile sandstorm shelter wasn't invincible, but it could take a lot. That would be the scouts' best bet.

Damas looked out the windows, glaring at the dark clouds as though he could hold the storm back by sheer force of will. It took a moment to hear his voice over the water.

"The Crawler is in the steppes at the moment. She's not a fast vehicle, Jak. I need you to get those scouts to either the Crawler or the city."

"I will."

Damas turned a stern look on them both.

"No stunts. These are people's lives we're talking about."

"I know!" Jak sputtered, a little offended. "And I won't bust the car up this time, so Kleiver can give it a rest."

"No. I'm serious, boy," Damas warned, "If it comes down to abandoning the car for shelter or trying to drive in the storm, you leave the car. Do you understand?"

Jak huffed. Damas had seen him outrun sandstorms before! What was so bad about a slightly bigger one?

"I got it, I got it," he grumbled.

Damas glared.

"No. Stunts. You get back here in one piece."

"Okay, I got it already!" Jak groaned.

"Jak-!"

"I know, Dad!" Jak complained.

An instant later his eyes widened.

The water suddenly seemed much louder than usual.

Daxter wasn't even sure any of them were breathing.

Three pairs of dramatically widened eyes darted back and forth between them as silence built up like steam under pressure. It was going to erupt sooner or later, the question was how.

Damas made a very small, strangled noise in the back of his throat.

Jak snapped out of his moment of horrified realization.

"Uh. I'll let you know when everyone is accounted for!"

He pivoted and bolted for the elevator before Damas could see his entire face burn crimson.

A guard at the back of the chamber opened his mouth to comment and in one rushed tangle of syllables Jak hissed,

"Youdidn'thearanything!"

Damas didn't blink for a good two minutes after Jak had left.

He didn't move for a good two minutes.

He stood exactly where he'd been, staring blankly at the empty elevator shaft.

The captain of the tower guard, an older man named Cephus, left his place by the windows to lean into Damas’s peripheral vision. He waved slightly, and the king finally blinked.

"Are you alright, sire?" Cephus asked.

Damas made a curious wheeze before speaking through a groaning inhalation.

"Oh no."

"Hm!" Cephus stroked his long beard. "Guess the wild one imprinted on you! Do I offer congratulations or condolences?"

Damas nodded slowly and stiffly.

"....help."

There could not possibly have been a worse time for the monks to finally send him the results of the blood test.

[narryffdreaming]

lia and harry's story (one)

summary: harry is a bartender and lia lives right across the street. rating: +18 || warnings: mental health (anxiety) and smut (here and there) || word count: 14,7k

some scenes are different. some scenes are still the same. but here they are again.

“Rohan isn’t working tonight.”

The toneless, husky voice echoed in the dim lights, and Lia’s heart skipped a beat as she whipped her head to her left.

Harry walked past her and towards the sink, too occupied carrying a box under one of his arms. When he stopped, he turned his back to where she was and placed the item on the laminated counter, then put his free hand into his pocket and pulled a utility knife, not wasting any other second before using it to tore the cardboard in half. 

Lia’s belly fluttered. 

White t-shirt, black pants. Sleeves short enough for her to admire the multiple tattoos covering his arms, and fabric tight enough for her to follow the movements of the muscles on his back as he pulled a few napkins and straws out of the box. 

She only needed a second for things to click inside her, and for her to remember why she decided to go to The Wandering Triplet in the first place. 

Harry’s unkempt dark brown hair curled on top of his head and also a little bit to the sides, but it seemed shorter on the back. He had clearly gotten a haircut since last week, when she last saw him at the bar, and even though Lia couldn’t see his face, she already knew that it suited him. 

She knew that he looked good. 

Really good.

No, she knew that he looked great. 

Unfairly and painfully handsome. 

Like a dream. 

Like he always did. 

Lia sighed. 

Harry grabbed the box with one hand and turned around, briefly glancing at her. He didn’t say nor did a thing, seemingly completely unamused by her presence as he looked forward and headed back towards the black curtain. 

And that’s exactly when it hit her: she still hadn’t said anything to him.

Nothing.

Not even a word.

Oh my God.

A flush of heat creeped up through the back of Lia’s neck, and her belly turned into knots. 

She shifted on her feet, straightening up and pulling her elbows closer to her body as she watched him disappear behind the thick black fabric.

Rohan isn’t working tonight. 

Rohan isn’t working tonight. 

Rohan isn’t working tonight.

Lia frowned. 

Why did he even… Ugh. 

Of course Rohan wasn’t working that night. It wasn’t something hard to figure out—she had been to The Wandering Triplet more than enough times to realize that on Wednesday Rohan always started his shift later at night, meaning that Harry always opened the bar by himself. 

Besides, why did he have to start a conversation with her like that? Why couldn’t he just have said something simple like… Hello? 

She pulled the loose sleeves of her cardigan and covered her fingers, then crossed her arms against her stomach and scanned the three shelves at the back wall. Honestly, entertaining any useless thoughts was better than overthinking Harry’s actions. She didn’t have the strength inside her to try and understand his dislike for her. Not anymore. She had already given up on that a long time ago. All she wanted was to get something to drink, get comfortable on a table, and daydream a little before going back home and dealing with all the very real consequences of that pathetic and useless day. 

Lia shook her head. 

Ugh.

White rum… White rum… Where’s the white rum? 

Since she’d walked into The Wandering Triplet for the first time, Lia had stared at those shelves long enough to realize they had a system to place everything. The one at the bottom was filled with different types of glasses, all upside-down, while the other two above were used to perfectly organize rows of many different types of alcohol.

When it came to the bottles, the still unopened ones and also the most expensive brands were at the top, while the most commonly used were in the middle, closer to their reach. From left to right, they were also careful, matching not only by type, but also organizing by brands and colors.

Another sigh left her mouth, and Lia dropped her shoulders. She knew she’d agreed with her psychiatrist that she’d wait until her body got used to the new medication, but she could’ve really used a drink that day. Not just any drink, but a mojito—it was her favorite, and Harry always made the best one.

“Ok, then. What can I get you?”

Lia jumped slightly, batting her eyelashes and shifting her arms on the counter.

Harry stood next to her, cleaning the already-clean-bar. 

She recognized his white t-shirt as one of her favorites. The design, mixing palm trees and searchlights with shades of blue and green, reminded her of one summer she’d spent in Los Angeles with her family, and the faded orange words around it made her think of an old record store. 

Harry always looked cool with that t-shirt, especially when he matched it with those black wide-legged pants he was wearing right then. He looked like someone who could be in a band, like someone who could hold a guitar in front of a crowd and make people faint at the sight.

Not a popstar or rockstar, though. Nuh-uh. He was too snappy for that. 

If Harry were a musician, he would probably be part of an indie band. Or one of those groups people never heard of until they randomly shuffled through a rainy and foggy playlist on Spotify. 

And he’d definitely be the moody and mysterious bass player, bothered only by doing his own sound and ignoring all the screaming girls at his feet. 

Bass guitar player. Yes. That would be for sure—he had great hands, and they looked perfect for the four-stringed instrument.

Harry wiped the surface forcefully, then tightened his long fingers around the light-brown towel and threw the item over his shoulder. As he held it there with one hand, he finally faced her, grasping the edge of the counter with his other hand and stretching his arm. 

Leaf, intense, green eyes stared into her boring brown ones, and Lia’s heart skipped a beat. 

He was so pretty. 

So, so pretty. 

And to daydream and imagine things was fun, but Harry wasn’t in any indie band, nor even a musician. He was simply the sulky, pretentious bartender who worked across the street from her apartment. And the guy who she had the biggest and most stupid crush on.

Harry cleared his throat, raised his eyebrows, and flinched his chin down.

Damn.

Lia shifted on her feet. 

“It’s—I—I mean…” She shook her head and cleared her throat, too. “Sorry. Just water, I think? I—Yes. Water. Please.”

Harry rolled his eyes and turned around, scoffing quietly as he walked to the shelves. “Of course.”

Lia furrowed her brows and held her breath, watching him take his time while he put some distance between them. As if having to get her a simple glass of water was the most boring thing he could do. Or maybe the most annoying thing he could do. Or maybe the most tiring thing he could do. 

His reaction felt out of place, but she couldn’t be surprised, could she? After all, she was used to his awful mood, and she’d gotten really good at pretending it didn’t bother her—to the point where she almost believed it herself. 

In fact, to be honest, had it been any other day, she probably wouldn’t have even minded his behavior. She would’ve probably just accepted it and added it to the countless humiliating moments she’d lived so far. 

But it was the last thing she needed on that particular Wednesday evening, when everything had already turned out so shitty that she was both mentally and emotionally exhausted.

Lia exhaled through her nose and clenched her jaw. 

In less than eight hours, three people had already treated her with disdain and condescension, and four had made her feel inferior and weak. All she had done was to work on herself and try to step out of her comfort zone, like she promised Dr. Reisman she would do, and all she had gotten in return was… Nothing. 

So shame on her for needing some distraction, right? Shame on her for thinking that silently watching her crush from far away would help her forget about her stressful and dreadful day. Shame on her for believing that she would be able to feel at least slightly better after spending five minutes at the bar. 

A glass full of water emerged in front of her, and Lia blinked.

“There you go, princess.” Harry smiled, as blatantly sarcastic and careless as he could be, then turned around and walked back to the sink. 

Lia glared at him, tightening her hands into fists and letting her body be consumed by her heavy breathing. 

She hated when he looked at her like that. And she hated when he made her feel like a child. Harry almost never talked to her, but when he did, he seemed to always find a way to make her feel mocked or challenged to say something. Challenged to be different. Challenged to speak up. Challenged to react quicker. 

And Lia hated it. 

She truly hated it, because she wasn’t good with words. At all. And she was well aware of that. She was getting treatment because of that, for fucks sake! 

So she didn’t need anyone pointing out the obvious for her. And she didn’t need anyone making her feel even worse for not being able to actually get better. Or for constantly messing things up even though she desperately tried not to. 

Why… 

Why did it have to be so hard for her? 

And why did it have to be so hard all the damn time?

Why couldn’t she get things right? At least once in her life? 

And why on earth did she insist on nurturing that fruitless crush, anyway? 

Huh?

Why did she care about someone who didn’t know her at all? Someone who had never even tried to get to know her? 

Huh?

And also, why couldn’t Harry just let her be?

Why did he have to treat her that way?

What had she even done to him, huh? 

What had she done, besides moving across the street and being a regular customer at the bar? 

Huh? 

Huh?!!

Lia grabbed the glass in front of her and took a sip of water. Then another one, and another one. Desperately gulping down three quarters of it before putting it down on the counter again.

Harry was unbelievable.

Unbelievable!

The judgment behind every action and every word was completely unnecessary. 

So what if she was drinking water? Huh? Why did it matter? What difference did it make? She could drink whatever she wanted to, right? 

And why—why—calling her princess? What was the point? What did he even mean by that? 

Huh?

Huh?!?!

“Ok, look,” Harry said, standing in front of her with a frown on his face and arms crossed on his chest, “are you just going to stand there all night? Because I told you Rohan isn’t—”

“Oh my goodness!” Lia laughed, uncrossing her arms and taking a step back from the counter. “This is… I… You… I’m just… Ugh!”

She shook her head and looked down. Reaching for her bag, she watched her own movements as she put her hand inside it and rummaged through her things.

“I’ll go, okay? I’ll go,” she said, fishing around for her wallet. “But you know what, Harry? Considering I’ve been around here for almost a year now, and that so far you’ve never even cared to… I don’t know… At least know my name, you don’t need to try so hard to be an asshole to me all the time, y’know?” She found some cash laying around, then grabbed the notes firmly between her fingers and slammed them on the counter. “You’ve already earned the title.”

She turned around and gritted her teeth, feeling the heat reverberating through her skin as she mumbled, “Asshole.”

And then, she walked away, finally removing herself from the unneeded interaction and not even once daring to look back at his face. 

For the next three weeks, Lia didn’t go to the bar. 

It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t intentional. She was busy, and life was happening. She went back to her parents house for a weekend, enjoyed the quietness of hometown, worked some extra hours, had dinner with her friends, took some alone time for herself, and then… Well, and then she also didn’t make any effort to go.

Because why would she, anyway?

“Excuse me.”

Someone shoved her, causing Lia to stumble on her feet and snap out of her mind. She looked to her side, apologizing for standing in the way while shuffling on her feet to keep her balance. 

Nobody seemed to care about her presence, though. Nor to have the slight idea of how much wondering it took before showing up again. Or to know that the last time she’d been there she’d called a bartender out for not knowing her name—and that she might’ve used the word asshole, too. 

Lia let her hair fall on her face and sighed. 

Things inside The Wandering Triplet were… Different.

Really different. 

For starters, it was way more packed than usual, more crowded than what she ever expected it to be. People stood everywhere, talking and laughing even louder than any other time. And she wasn’t sure the place had at least once smelled that much like beer and perfume. 

On top of that, two guys seemed to be playing live music, something she had definitely never seen there before. Just like a lot of the faces surrounding her right then and there.

She swallowed, then rubbed her neck. 

It was hard not to notice the way her body heat had risen. Or how her entire outfit suddenly seemed like a bad call—because, honestly, how was she supposed to not sweat under that black turtleneck? Or under the tight fabric of her jeans? Even her feet were burning up, buried in those damn leather boots.

And it wasn’t like Lia was incapable of dressing according to the situation. It was just that, well, how was she even supposed to imagine that the place would ever be so crowded?

Especially on a Monday night! 

C’mon!

Monday nights were always their quietest nights. So much so that they didn’t even require two bartenders working at the same time. 

And Lia knew that. It was exactly the whole reason why she had chosen to go back on that particular night: because Monday nights were Harry’s nights off. 

Or, well, at least they used to be Harry’s nights off.

Shit.

There was absolutely no way Rohan would be able to handle that chaos all by himself, right? 

So… 

Oh God. 

She was going to see him… Wasn’t she?

The whole therapy session, with all the planning and thinking about how she could go back there without actually having to face him, had been a complete waste of time. Right?

It had been for nothing. 

And a complete failure. 

Right? 

Right?!

Her stomach fluttered, then shot a soft tingling to her chest.

Shit.

She didn’t want to see him, though. Of course she didn’t. Not after she’d humiliated herself. 

So… She should’ve turned around and gone back home, right? Try it again on a different night, maybe. Or just find a different bar. 

Right?

Lia sighed, heavier this time. 

She couldn’t run away, though. The whole point of going to the bar again was to challenge her own thoughts and beliefs, so she couldn’t give up now. She had to try. 

Right?

Oh God.

Sliding her tongue through her lips, Lia put her hair behind her ears and focused on her destination, then squeezed her way in to make it to the counter and order herself a drink—just as she promised Dr. Reisman she would do. 

To navigate her body through so many strangers wasn’t an easy task, that’s for sure, but she eventually managed to push herself all the way across the room. Once she found herself closer to the counter, a man walked backwards, holding three beers between his hands. 

Lia turned sideways, giving him more room to walk without dropping anything. It also turned out to be the perfect opportunity for her to place one hand on the edge of the wooden bar, hold herself, and step onto the new empty space.

After that, everything felt mostly like a blur. 

Rohan was there, but he wasn’t alone. There was also a girl helping him out. A girl she hadn’t seen there before. Short, blonde hair. Long legs and arms. Tattoos on her shoulder and piercing on her nose. She handed him empty glasses and chatted excitedly, while he grabbed each with a smile and put them all back on the bottom shelf.

And then a tattooed arm abruptly flashed in front of her, and Lia lurched back. Barely catching the color of the towel being yanked in circles right next to her.

Someone yelled an order, another person called someone’s name, and another one shouted an ‘excuse me’ a couple of steps to her side. Pop acoustic covers were still playing in the back and someone dropped a couple of spoons behind the bar. 

Everything was happening at the same time. Right where she was. And yet all she could pay attention to was Harry’s figure coming to a stop in front of her.

Harry blinked once, then turned his head slightly to the side, shouting the words without removing his sea-green eyes from her. “Rohan! Lia is here!”

And just like that, Harry turned around and walked away.

And she was all by herself all over again.

Lia frowned. 

What…

Did he… 

Had Harry just called her name?

Lia is here. 

Lia is here.

That’s what he’d said, right?

Lia is here.

Her stomach fluttered.

Considering how the last thing she had said to him—besides calling him an asshole, of course—was that he didn’t know her name, that couldn’t be a coincidence… Right?

Right?!

“Lia, heyyy!" 

She lowered her gaze to the counter and furrowed her brows.

How the hell had Harry been able to do that? To disconcert her in a matter of two seconds?

Four words. That was it. That was all it had taken.

All because he had said her name.

After three weeks of not seeing him.

“Hey, are you okay?” 

Rohan stood in front of her with worried eyes and puzzled face, and Lia blinked. 

It took her a moment to realize she was still frozen in place, but she finally shook her head and looked up.

“Uh, yeah… I… Yes. Oh my God. Sorry. Yes.” She chuckled and waved her hand. “I just... Long day today. Sorry.”

Rohan nodded and smiled, too. “Gotcha. No worries! It’s nice to see you again! You look taller today.”

“Oh.” Lia leaned back and looked down at her feet, wiggling her toes inside her high heel leather boots. “Must be the shoes.” She shrugged. “Don’t wear them often.”

“You should. You look nice! So, what can I get ya? Let’s cheer you up after a long day, huh?”

Lia sighed, then cleared her throat.

Rohan’s energy was always loud. His brown eyes always sparkled with joy, and every time he smiled his entire face lit up. It definitely made it really easy to talk to him, mostly because he never gave her too much time to speak and be awkward. He moved forward, simply worrying about doing his job and constantly making sure everyone was having a good time. 

“Actually,” she said, “I don’t... I don’t know what I want. Maybe a cocktail, please? Nothing strong, though. I just… Yeah… I haven’t been drinking for a while, so... I think I’d rather be careful? You know? Sorry.”

Rohan tilted his head and grinned at her, watching her for a brief moment before he shook his head and chuckled.  

A flush creeped across Lia’s cheeks, and she bit the inside of her bottom lip.

“Of course!” He nodded, watching her as he took a step back and winked at her. “One minute, yeah?”

Rohan turned around and walked away, and Lia let the air out through her nose. 

Always the same thing. She just had to find a way to embarrass herself, didn’t she? 

Dropping her shoulders and peeking at her sides, she found Harry standing by the other end of the counter, chatting with the new bartender while they mixed a couple of drinks. 

He hadn’t changed much—or at all. The hair had probably been trimmed and he had clearly shaved at some point just to let his facial hair grow again, because his scruff looked just the same as three weeks ago. 

Even his t-shirt seemed to be the same one—until Lia noticed it actually had different writing and design. 

Her belly fluttered, just like it always did when she looked at him. And then, when she couldn’t decide if the fluttering was a good or bad feeling, her chest always tightened as well. 

It tightened with a mix of amazement, delight, frustration, and sadness. All at once. 

Because no matter how oblivious Harry was to it, he was the whole reason Lia had slowly become a regular at the bar. 

Sure, a great therapy session had led her to challenge herself and get a drink by herself. And then, that spur of the moment decision had taken her to the bar across the street—the only one that was open that night. 

But walking into the bar and meeting someone who would make her insides blaze wasn’t on her plans. And even considering challenging herself for a second time just a few days later definitely wouldn’t have happened if, that exact same night, she hadn’t met him.

Eleven months had gone by since that night, and yet Lia still winced every time she recalled it. 

Harry had taken her order, but hadn’t even smiled politely when doing so. He also hadn’t looked at least one bit excited about making the mojito she’d asked for (which later Lia thought tasted delicious, anyway). 

Even after that, no matter how many times she had stepped into the bar, he never even flinched when looking at her. Never. 

It was as if she didn’t even exist to him. 

So Lia had a crush on him, yes, but she wasn’t stupid. Harry had never hidden his lack of interest in getting to know her, so she knew he wasn’t into her. And she was fine with that. Really. 

She was fine with it. And she was more than used to it by now. Even if— 

“That’s Sage.”

Lia turned her head and straightened her back, only then noticing she’d been openly staring at the interaction between the two bartenders. 

“She just started, so Harry’s going over our signature drinks with her,” Rohan added, shrugging and smiling. “I know it can be hard to believe, but he’s pretty patient. A great guy once you get past the frown on his face.”

Lia smiled. She actually didn’t find that hard to believe at all, but she didn’t want Rohan to know how she really felt about his co-worker, or how much she had watched all along, so she didn’t share the thought with him. 

Instead, she glanced at the cocktail glass he’d placed on the counter and asked, “A martini?”

“Right!” Rohan slapped his open hand on the counter, as if bringing himself back to the conversation. “Apple martini, to be precise. Or, as some would say, appletini.”

Lia chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve had one of these before.”

“Hope you enjoy it, then.”

“I’m sure I will. Thank you, Rohan.”

He curled his lips into another bright and cheerful smile. “My pleasure. If you don’t like it, next one’s on me, yeah? So lemme know.”

“Okay.” Lia smiled and nodded, wrapping her fingers around the glass and pushing her weight off the counter. “I will.”

— — — — — 

Sitting by herself, Lia took the last sip of her melted apple martini just as the two young boys finished playing another pop song from their acoustic set. 

People clapped next to her, and she left the glass on the table to do the same, tilting her head and smiling at how cute and shy the pair looked on the stage. Despite the obvious age difference, they somehow reminded her of her students when they had to perform for the first time in front of an audience, which was probably why she kept feeling the need to pay attention to them and reassure them with her eyes—a way to let them know how well they were doing up there.

They thanked politely and introduced the next song, and Lia rested her chin on the palm of her hand, paying attention to the first few chords of a song she couldn’t recognize. 

Truthfully speaking, Lia was proud of herself. Even though the place was way more crowded than she was comfortable with, and even though she’d thought about leaving multiple times, she survived the thirty minutes she’d promised herself she would try to stay. 

So she knew she had already made some good progress, and that she could now go home without feeling guilty. 

She hadn’t failed. Not that night, at least.

As a gift to herself, she allowed her eyes to wander around the bar, trying to get a glimpse of Harry before she officially left. 

She found him behind the counter, of course, all focused while chatting with his two coworkers. He listened to whatever Rohan was saying, nodding along while pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. But then, something in the story caused him to widen his eyes and drop his hand to Sage’s shoulder, holding the shock on his face firmly for a moment before he finally threw his head back and laughed. Loudly. Bringing his free hand to his chest while his entire body seemed to shake. 

Lia’s belly fluttered, and she was pretty sure both of her lungs had stopped working. 

He was just so… Attractive. 

So hypnotizing. It was like she couldn’t take her eyes away from him.

And she knew how silly she was for it. For wanting him that bad. 

She knew it. But she couldn’t help it. 

She just couldn’t. 

A group of people approached the counter, and Rohan automatically got back into work mode, walking towards them. Harry and Sage were left behind, then, but they quickly seemed to engage into more conversation. Happy, interesting conversation. 

Jealousy sparked in her chest, but Lia still watched him with nothing but fascination. She watched the way he crossed his arms on his chest, and also the way he kept raising one of his hands to gesture whenever he talked to Sage. 

Lia is here. 

His words echoed inside her mind, and Lia knew, right then and there, that later at night she’d be in bed and think about the way he’d said her name. Over and over again.

She’d think about the way he treated the new girl, and she’d dream about him treating her like that, too. 

She knew it, because she’d been there before. Because after that first night at the bar, watching Harry became like a hobby to her. And because in the eleven months she’d been there, even though it hadn’t been that often, there had been a time when Lia used to see him with a woman at the bar. A girlfriend, perhaps. Someone who was obviously older than him, but just as tall, and had shoulder-length, perfectly straight, dark auburn hair. Someone who’d always seemed too elegant and sophisticated for The Wandering Triplet, and yet had never looked out of place. Effortlessly delicate and powerful at the same time. Someone who carried herself in a way that screamed confidence, as if she’d never known what it was like to feel insecure about herself. 

During those nights, when that woman used to be at the bar, Lia always stood a little bit afar, not wanting to be disrespectful to them, but still allowing herself to catch some glimpses of a completely different version of him. 

A more natural, vulnerable version. Where Harry would laugh so loud he would drop his head back, or peck her lips multiple times, and even caress her cheek in between customers. Where he would whisper in her ear, make her smile, and stare deeply into her eyes when she did all the talking. Where he would also walk her out of the bar holding her hand, or hug her waist when guiding them to his car. 

It was obvious to Lia — and probably to anyone who looked at them, to be honest — how much they appreciated each other’s company, and how much he cared for her. It was also very clear how much Harry enjoyed the affection. How much he enjoyed being touched and taken care of. 

And embarrassingly as it was, more than once Lia had woken up highly aware of dreaming about him. Recalling false, vivid memories of her replacing that woman, and of Harry touching and kissing her, instead.  

Lia shifted on her seat, withdrawing her chin from her hand and rolling her shoulders. Hoping to push those thoughts away, but also praying people never find out they even existed in the first place. 

Focusing her sight on them again, Lia caught Rohan walking back to Harry and Sage. He stood with his back turned to her, and the other two resumed their attention on whatever he had to say. 

She watched a little bit more, just to enjoy those couple minutes before she left. Music played in the background, and people chatted jazzily all around her. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, though. She just couldn’t. 

So handsome.

Harry lifted one hand, pulling his short hair back and out of the way, and then crossed his arms again. He listened to Rohan, and to everything he had to say. He focused, nodded, and offered his own comments from time to time. Giving his co-worker all his attention, solely and purely. 

Until he drifted his sight to the side and met her stare. 

Lia held her breath and gulped down, freezing as his eyes settled inside hers. 

Oh God.

Her heart palpitated. And her breathing sped up. 

It was hard to be one hundred percent sure of what was happening when he was so far away, but it was also hard to have any doubts when he was so intense that she could feel him all through her body. And when he didn’t seem to make any attempt to avoid her gaze. Or move. Or look away. 

Oh my God. Oh my God. 

Oh my God!

A heavy and empty feeling spread in her stomach, and Lia looked away. 

What the hell was even happening?

What was she supposed to do?

Why was he looking at her?

Was he actually looking at her?

She glanced back at him, and their eyes instantly met again. 

He was still watching her. 

Lia closed her hands into fists, then forced herself to breathe. Deeply. Heavily. 

Harry lifted his eyebrows and tilted his chin down. 

It was an expression she’d seen before, and that it was enough to make every single one of her muscles quiver. 

She darted her eyes back to her empty drink and blinked. 

What the hell? 

To have him staring back at her felt even worse than him saying her name or her calling him an asshole. It was like breaking the fourth wall. It was like acknowledging her existence. And Lia didn’t know what to do with that.

She rummaged for something, but it was as if her thoughts weren’t there anymore. As if her brain stopped functioning and she went completely blank.

And just like that, before she could give herself a pep talk and calm herself down, Lia had already pushed her chair away from the table and ran to the door. Stepping outside and away from the bar. 

Curiosity killed the cat.

Or at least that was what one of Lia’s teachers always used to say. And also what crossed her mind on Friday night, when she walked into The Wandering Triplet followed by Jillie and Molly.

“Ohhh, I like this place,” Molly said, coming to a stop right behind the other two. 

“Yeah!” Jillie nodded, then linked her arm with Lia’s. “I can see why you like it here. Feels kinda cozy. Intimate.”

Lia’s mouth twitched with a smile, and she took one hand up to put her hair behind her ear. 

Dr. Reisman was so right about it. 

Going through life without opening up and sharing things wasn’t working for her. Not anymore. And yeah, it sucked that she had needed a push from her therapist and the assignment of a new task to do it, but at least she’d told them about it. 

At least she wasn’t keeping it all to herself anymore. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Lia offered, looking around and taking the place in. 

It didn’t feel too crowded this time, not yet at least. On her left side, most tables were occupied, and an older man was performing on the same tiny stage the two boys were playing the other night—his low, raspy voice blending with the soft chatting and laughing of customers. 

To her right, though, only a few people stood near the counter, giving her the perfect view of the three bartenders working behind it. 

Lia cleared her throat and diverted her eyes back to the stage.

“I guess it’s usually like this,” she added, ignoring the fact that her belly was suddenly turning upside down. “But it also depends on how crowded the other two bars are.”

“Hmm… Well,” Jillie said, turning her head to look at them, “should we get a table, then?”

Lia nodded and stepped forward. 

“Sure—” 

“Wait!” Molly placed her hands on Lia’s hips, forcing her to stay in place. “Let’s get a drink first.”

“A—Already? You sure? Now? Right now?"

“Yes.” Molly smirked. “Right now. C’mon. Wanna see that bartender of yours up close.”

“Oh God…”

Lia chuckled, mostly because she didn’t know what to say. Or do. 

Of course they wanted to see him, though. After all, it was the whole reason why they were there that night. 

At first the excitement and curiosity had happened through texts, when Lia got the courage to tell them about Harry. Their reaction had been instant, and it’d brought so much joy to her body that Lia ended up spending way more time on her phone than she should have. 

Despite letting them know it was only a crush, and that he didn’t really care about her, they both entertained the subject, asking details about the way he looked or how she’d met him. It was easy to get carried away with them, because they didn’t make it seem that deep, treating the topic lightly. Treating it as a joke. 

They also didn’t make her feel guilty or out of her mind for being attracted to him. And when she explained to them how she worried about being inappropriate for fantasizing about him, they both shared their own stories of moments when they’d fancied someone they probably shouldn’t have, and even of things they’d done with people that they probably shouldn’t have. 

It brought some sense of imperfection to her, and of humanity, and it made her breathe better. So before ending the conversation, when they asked to meet him, Lia didn’t want to say no and go back to her lonely and quiet bubble, so she agreed with them. 

And that’s how they ended up there. 

On Friday night. At the bar. 

“Oh, yes! I wanna see him, too!” Jillie let go of Lia’s arm and turned around. “C’mon.”

The idea of her gorgeous, tall, cheerful friend reaching the bar first and alone was enough to get a reaction out of her. 

“Okay, okay!” Lia looked at the floor and closed her hands into fists, then stepped forward and led the way. 

She had no idea what would come out of that night, but she knew it didn’t make sense for her to run away or avoid the situation—not even if it made her stomach swirl and turn. After all, telling her best friends about Harry and The Wandering Triplet had felt like a bold move, but also like a step she needed to take. 

And one she hadn’t regretted so far. 

"Heeyyy!” Rohan’s cheerful voice greeted as soon as Lia reached the counter, and she immediately glanced up. He approached them with a grin and open arms, easily leaving his co-workers behind. “Look who’s here!”

Lia curled her mouth into a closed-lip smile and cleared her throat. 

“H—Hi…”

“You good? It’s nice to see you! You almost never show up on Fridays.”

“Oh…” She chuckled softly, placing her hands inside the pockets of her jacket and shrugging. “I just… Yeah. I’m with my friends tonight, so… I wanted to show them around? I guess…”

“Of course!” Rohan widened his eyes, but his smile never faltered. He shifted his sight to the other girls and stood up straighter, then stretched his arm and offered his hand for them to shake. “How rude of me. Hello there, I’m Rohan.”

“Molly.”

“Jillie, hi.”

“Welcome to The Wandering Triplet, yeah? Hope you enjoy it. Any friend of Lia is more than welcome here.”

Lia shifted on her feet, then caught a glimpse of Harry moving towards the shelves. 

She hadn’t seen him again, but the intensity of his eyes was still engraved inside her mind. It had induced the most vivid dreams for the last couple of nights, and it brought a fluttery to her belly every time she thought about him. 

And she really didn’t know what to think about it, or if she even should think so much about it, but it was nice to see him again. It really was. 

He looked good, as usual, and even though she couldn’t see his face, she could see enough to know he was already frowning. Also as usual. 

For a change, though, Harry was wearing a black t-shirt. Black t-shirt, black wide legged pants, and black shoes. 

Black, black, black. 

Lia sighed. She wished he could be the one taking their orders and chatting with them. Him, instead of Rohan. At least once. 

Jillie elbowed her side, and Lia shook her head. Clearing her throat, she looked from Rohan, to Jillie, to Molly. 

They were all watching her.

She forced a chuckle out of her mouth and faced Jillie again. “What?”

“Nothing.” Jillie shrugged. “Rohan was just saying how you’re one of their favorite regulars. That’s all.”

“Oh.” Lia laughed—or tried to laugh—and shook her head again. Vehemently, this time. Almost desperately. “I don’t… No… Yeah, no… I don’t think I am.”

“Of course you are,” Rohan said, drawing all the attention back to him. “I mean, I know you’re my favorite customer, at least.”

Rohan winked, and Lia’s brain froze. Her stomach rolled before heaviness settled in, and her senses seemed to catch every detail around her: her friends coughing next to her, Sage patting Rohan’s shoulder as she walked past him, and Harry snorting and shaking his head behind him. 

Heat creeped up through her neck, face, and ears. And all she wanted was to get away from there. To be swallowed by the ground. To vanish from air. 

“Oookay…” Molly laughed, throwing her arm around Lia’s shoulder and pulling her close. “So what about getting your favorite customer and her friends two mojitos and a beer, huh?”

— — — — — 

“Your little shit!” Jillie hissed, sending her a glare and a laugh from across the table. “You’ve been hiding all this from us? I can’t believe you!”

Next to Lia, Molly laughed and shook her head. “Me neither.”

“And this Rohan guy? Oh my God! Lia! He’s so into you! What the hell?!”

“Yeah. How come you didn’t tell us about him?”

Lia shrugged. 

Rohan had always been nice, and maybe he had said a few things here and there that had made her blush before, but he had never been so straightforward with the flirting. 

Besides, she didn’t care about Rohan, so she never thought about mentioning him. Why would she? 

The girls  talked and laughed about her apparently “secret life”, but there was nothing Lia could think to say to them, so she listened. 

And as she listened, she hid her face behind the rim of the glass in her hands, then took the first sip of her mojito.

Mint and rum went down her throat, and she pursed her lips. 

It was good, but it wasn’t as good as Harry’s.

She twisted her neck and tried to catch a glimpse of the bar, but there were too many people in between. 

Her shoulders dropped, and she sighed. 

Was there even a way for her to interact with him again? 

Should she walk in early on a Wednesday evening again?

What if Sage was there, too?

Would he take the opportunity to ignore her, like he normally did?

Ugh! 

See?!

Harry was the one she wanted to talk about, not Rohan.

Why was Rohan the topic of conversation?

Lia faced the table and cleared her throat. 

Both Jillie and Molly looked at her, and she shifted on her seat. 

“Uh… So… What did you think of Harry?”

Eyeing one girl, then the other, Lia sipped her mojito again. 

Jillie shrugged.

“I was so focused on Rohan that I didn’t even pay attention to Harry, to be honest.” She stretched her neck, lifting her head towards the bar’s direction.

“I think… Damn he’s hot,” Molly admitted. 

Lia’s lips curled up. “Yeah? You think?”

“Oh yes.” Molly nodded. “The tattoos, the clothes, the hair... And not shaving but also not actually having a beard? Pft. The guy definitely knows what he’s doing.”

Lia’s smile turned into a grin. 

She had always been so afraid of her friends (and people in general) judging her, or making her feel embarrassed, that she never allowed herself to just share and enjoy things with others. And in that moment, sitting with them at the bar and gossiping about Harry, as ridiculous as she knew it would sound, she felt less alone.

Damn! She just couldn’t wait to tell Dr. Reisman all about it. She would be happy to know that Lia was finally considering her words to be correct: living outside of her tiny safe bubble could, in fact, be so good for her.

— — — — — 

A couple of hours later, Molly and Jillie hugged Lia goodnight and shared an Uber back to their homes. 

Lia stood near the bouncer and watched the car drive off, meanwhile tried to find her keys inside of her bag. 

She really needed to bring something smaller for those kinds of situations, especially considering she was only across the street from her own apartment. 

Why did she even need that much stuff?

She had never stopped to journal in the middle of a drink. And she had never done her nails outside her home. And she had never needed— 

“So she has friends, after all.”

Lia jerked her head to one side, and then to the other. It took her a moment to see him, standing alone in the darkness of the tiny alley next to the bar.

Harry was leaning on his right shoulder against the wall, his arms crossed on top of his chest and his head slightly tilted to the side. 

He smirked, and Lia’s chest tightened.

“You thought I didn’t have friends?” she blurted out, her tone softer and lower than she had intended to.

Harry shrugged, and his shoulders went up and down theatrically — dragging his crossed arms along with him while his lips curved down. 

Lia blinked and looked at the floor. 

She was convinced Harry didn’t care about her. A fact that implied he didn’t think about her, nor make assumptions about her.

Thinking again, though, she knew that wasn’t the truth. 

Because Harry made assumptions about her. For instance, he constantly assumed she went to the bar to see Rohan. He also tended to scoff and roll his eyes at her, as if she was too predictable. 

He didn’t know her, but he acted as if he did.

But... What kind of person he thought she was, then? What kind of person didn’t have any friends?

Did he actually think that low of her?

She was aware of how hard it was for her to be social, to feel comfortable around people, but she had never thought she could be perceived as someone who wasn’t capable of having any friends.

Did that even make sense?

Why did his comment make her feel so… Sad about herself? 

So... Lonely? 

So insufficient. 

So out of place.

Damn.

What was she even feeling? 

Her chest ached, and her throat felt sore, but she couldn’t point out exactly what any of that meant… How would she be able to control her emotions, if she couldn’t tell what emotions she was dealing with in the first place?

“Oh c’mon…” Harry scoffed, and even though she wasn’t looking at him, Lia could hear his eyes rolling in his voice. “I was just saying. Don’t be a baby about it.”

He sounded annoyed. 

Or maybe disappointed. 

Or maybe bored.

Lia looked up and to the left. She focused on the bouncer sitting on the stool and took a deep breath in. Watching him scroll through his phone without a single care about their interaction. 

Or maybe pretending not to have a single care about it.

Maybe he was internally laughing about the whole thing. Ready to pat Harry’s back and agree with him. Ready to admit he had no idea why Lia kept showing up over and over again. 

Another deep breath in, and Lia looked at the ground, finding her own feet.

Her boots were dirty with beer. She needed to clean them up as soon as she got home. She also needed to wash her hair, because she could definitely smell cigarettes. Were people smoking inside? Was that even allowed?

“See!”

Lia jumped. And looked up again. 

Harry snorted and turned to the side, leaning his back completely against the wall and shoving his hands inside of his pants’ pockets. Shaking his head, he murmured, “I knew talking to you was useless.”

Lia’s heart shrunk. 

Harry looked defeated. And maybe he really was, because apparently he had finally noticed how boring it was to have an actual conversation with her.

God, he made her feel so, so small.

“You—” Lia closed her eyes. She needed to speak, or she would regret it the next morning. She batted her eyes open and took a couple of steps forward, stopping only when she was in front of him. Closing her hands into fists, she breathed in, and then breathed out. “You need to… Stop.”

“Stop?”

“Yes. Stop! Stop acting like you know a thing about me, because you don’t, okay? If you… If you don’t want to know me then… Then fine. Just don’t. But stop… Just stop being such an asshole to me.”

He took his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms on his chest. 

“Stop calling me an asshole.”

“Then stop being one!”

For a second, it seemed as if Harry’s lips twitched upwards, attempting to smile. 

But then he licked his lips, and shrugged. 

“How am I being an asshole? We don’t even talk.”

“Well… We… You… We clearly don’t, but…” She sighed and looked at the end of the alley, searching for a safe place to put her eyes and crossing her arms under her chest before she poured her honesty into him. “But when we do, you make sure to point out only the things I hate the most about myself, and that sucks.”

There was silence. A lot of silence. And if she hadn’t heard him sigh, or if she couldn’t see him through the corner of her eyes, she would’ve thought he had left.

Breathe in, Lia. 

Breathe out. 

“I know I am awkward, okay? And I know I am not fun to talk to. I know it takes me some time to answer, and I know people don’t want to be friends with me. I know all that. Trust me, I know. I know, and I hate that I am this way. But you… You have no idea how hard I try anyway. How hard I keep trying to step out of my comfort zone and just… Be different. Be better. So there’s no need to make fun of me, okay? Just let me be and I won’t bother you anymore.”

“Lia—”

“Don’t. Please. Just… I already hate myself for telling you all this. God… I—I haven’t told these things to anyone besides my therapist. And caring so much about it is another thing that I hate about myself. I know it’s stupid, I know I am old enough and shouldn’t care. I wish I didn’t but… It’s just… Anyway, I don’t need you being mean or making fun of me about it, okay? Finally talking to someone about this it’s... It was supposed to be good for me. It was supposed to… I don’t know… It was supposed to feel good and not... Not like this.”

“Listen—”

“No. Let’s just… Leave it like this, okay? Forget about it. It’s not like you ever cared about me anyway.”

There was a reason why Lia spent most of the time inside her head: it was better than facing the reality of her life. 

And for the last twelve months or so, her mind had created a very nice and safe bubble for her to distract herself with. A bubble where she lived happily and unbothered. Where she didn’t embarrass herself. And where she didn’t mess things up. 

Her bubble was hers and only hers, but she wasn’t alone in it. Of course she wasn’t. 

Since she’d met him at the bar, and even though he had no idea about it, Harry had been there as well. 

Lia liked to look at him, she liked to wonder about him, and she liked to fantasize about him. Because Harry was hot. And sexy as hell. And because although she wasn’t into the “dark and mysterious” vibe, she couldn’t deny that Harry made her insides come to live.

He really did. 

In her dreams, Lia was sure he was everything she always secretly wanted but never had. Especially in bed.

He looked like the type of man who wasn’t nice, because he didn’t give a damn about being nice. He looked like the type of man who didn’t get attached, who was just after having a good time. Who would sleep with her, send her home, and roll his eyes at her the next time he saw her around.

He looked like the kind of man who could have any woman, at any time, without even having to try.

And Lia had always wondered how it would be like to have sex with someone like that, but she always knew it was a dangerous path to actually walk through. So when he brushed her off, or rolled his eyes at her, or didn’t even acknowledge she was there, she fed her fantasy up. But she wouldn’t be that into him if she didn’t know that’s all it was—a fantasy.

A fantasy that kept her company in her nice and safe bubble. That distracted her. That allowed her to stay by herself without losing her mind. 

And a fantasy that ended up nowhere to be seen, because the bubble in which she had been happily living and nurturing all those dreams about him had burst right in front of her. And even though she’d been stupid in the past, there was absolutely no way she was ever going to allow herself to even think about something happening between them again. Nuh-uh. 

Not at all. 

Not anytime soon. 

Not ever again. 

Only hours had gone by, but Lia was already all over the place. 

She hadn’t slept at all, too busy crying and catching up her breath. 

She didn’t think it was fair that Harry had been the one who she’d opened up to, especially because it didn’t feel like opening up to someone. It felt like begging for him not to be mean at her because she was too insecure about herself. It felt like not being strong enough to just let it go. It felt like not being confident enough to act like a woman next to him. It felt weak. It felt sad. It felt awful.

Lia had never been so vulnerable to someone. Not besides Dr. Reisman, at least. So at that moment, when it finally happened — when she finally let it all out — all she had wanted and needed was a hug. And she couldn’t ask him that. 

Of course she couldn’t.

So she had to go back to her place and go through all of it all by herself. All alone. Just like she didn’t want to be. 

Damn. Her brain hurt from so much thinking. From all the embarrassment, all the judgment, all the regret. 

She was spiraling, all over again. And because of a man, all over again. 

Another man. 

Again. 

No. No, no, no. She couldn’t go through all that again. She really couldn’t. She needed to do something. She needed to handle the situation. She had to stop it before she ended up losing herself again. 

And she was going to do it the only way she knew how—creating a new, nice, and safe bubble for herself. A bubble that could be her only world for a couple of days. 

Or for as long as it took until she felt brave enough to step out of it again.

One day. 

Two days. 

Three.

Four. 

Five. 

Six. 

A week. 

And another one.

“They are all delicious.” Lia crossed her arms on the counter and smiled. “But yeah, Snickers was definitely my favorite one so far.”

“Really?” Cece smiled. The wrinkles around her face doubled, and her hand shook slightly as she handed Lia the card reader. “Thank you, dear. Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Hmmm… I don’t think so.” She waited for the confirmation that the payment went through, then added, “But I’ll definitely be here on Friday.”

“Good. I’ll have a slice of your favorite ready for you then. On the house.”

Lia’s smile got wider, and she was filled by this sudden need of giving that sweet lady the biggest and warmest hug. 

She couldn’t believe how long it had taken her to discover CC Tearoom, especially since it was right around the corner from her place. Cece’s hands truly turned ingredients into magic. So far, there hadn’t been a flavor that hadn’t made Lia close her eyes and hum to herself. This time, it was the Roasted Strawberries & Cream Cheesecake that had sent her over the moon, but on Monday it had been the slice of Chocolate-Peanut Butter, and the week before three other different ones.

So yeah, she should’ve been there and incorporated it into her routine a lot earlier.

Coffee and pies were so much better than mojitos, anyway. 

Besides, she obviously felt way more comfortable sitting on the corner of a welcoming and homelike coffee shop than surrounded by loud and drunk people. And the way Cece and the other baristas treated her? Wow. It only highlighted how stupid she had been going to that bar, pinning over a guy that gave her nothing but coldness and rudeness all the time. 

The mere thought of him brought a weird feeling to her belly, and Lia tried her best to push his presence out of her mind. She was getting better at it. Faster. Which was good, because it meant she suddenly wouldn’t even remember about him anymore, right?

She stepped into the summer night breeze and crossed her arms under her chest. Another day had practically gone by. Another Wednesday. Meaning it was almost the end of the week, and then a new one would start. And she would get to repeat everything all over again. 

Wake up, go to work, go home, clean up or go out for a coffee (and a slice of cheesecake), get ready for the next day, and go to bed. From Monday to Monday. With an exception here and there — like grocery shopping and doing laundry on the weekends instead of going to work, and also going downstairs and visiting Mrs. Jones for some knitting or a few rounds of card games. 

The latest activity had happened for the first time only last Saturday afternoon, but Lia was keen on the idea of making it a habit. Mrs. and Ms. Jones had been living on the second floor of her building for years. They were known by most neighbors as the couple who was always bickering, but could never stay away from each other. And despite Ms. Jones’ explicit complaints about everything and everyone, everybody seemed to like them a lot—probably because no-one took his grumpiness very seriously. 

She turned around the corner and looked down at her feet. Her hair blew across her eyes, blocking her view of the black sneakers her parents had given her last Christmas. They were kind of loose on her feet, but at least she wasn’t wearing those white shoes anymore. Or any other color, for that matter. At least she’d gone back to her black neutral low-key outfits. 

Taking one hand up, she pulled her hair over her shoulders, then tucked some strands behind her ear. 

She focused on the way her legs carried her back to her building, tracing the well-known path her steps absently followed everyday. 

There was nothing like a safe, quiet, and laid-back routine, was it?

No, there wasn’t.

It was all she needed. 

All she had wanted.

To be okay.

And she had finally achieved it, hadn’t she?

“Lia!”

Out of nowhere, the voice hit her like thunder. Her body staggered for a moment, and the sound lingered inside her. 

It was Harry, wasn’t it? 

Calling her name?

Her heart raced, and a flush of adrenaline tingled through her body. 

No. Of course not. 

How could it be? 

Why would it be?

“Lia, hey!”

Shit. 

Another thunder, and another shock to speed up her heart. Except this time she didn’t stop moving — she walked even faster. 

She was afraid to be right, she didn’t want to be right, but deep down she had no doubts. She knew it was him. 

She also hoped it would be.

“Wait!”

He sounded louder, and Lia knew that when thunder got louder, it meant lighting was getting closer. 

Her heart pounded inside of her chest, and a low buzz rang in her ears.

She closed her hand into a fist, tightening her fingers around her keys. Maybe she could get away with pretending she didn’t hear him. Maybe, if she just walked fast enough, she would reach the door and get inside before he called again. Maybe she could run up the front steps. There were only six of them... Or were they seven? It didn’t matter. Once she got inside her building, she would be fine. 

“Lia, please! Hey!”

Just get the key and open the door, Lia. C’mon… C’mon! That’s it! Now, just get inside. Go, go, go!

With shaking hands, she pushed the front door of her building and took a step inside. 

“Lia, c’mon! Just, please—Hey, stop!”

Harry’s hand banged against the door, and his heavy breathing echoed between the four walls of the tiny lobby.

Lia turned on her feet with a gasp, finding Harry with his mouth open and one arm stretched out, leaning his weight on the still open door while catching his breath.

Not fast enough, Lia. Not fast enough. 

“I just—Fucking hell…” Harry breathed out, chest going up and down densely. He looked down and shook his head, then faced her again. “We need… We need to talk."

Lia crossed her arms and stepped backwards. She pulled her eyebrows together as she looked at him and took her very own version of shaky breaths. 

Exact eighteen days had gone by since she’d last seen him. She knew it, because she’d been counting them — as embarrassing and ridiculous as it sounded. 

She had been counting them because she was determined to make the number get higher and higher. 

So, so determined. So careful, and so mindful of everything. 

That’s why she walked her own street with her head down — to avoid even getting a glimpse of him walking in or out of the bar. She lived as if the place didn’t exist anymore. As if she’d never stepped in there. As if she didn’t even care about what the place could be past the door. 

She hadn’t counted on the possibility of Harry running after her, though. 

After all, why would he? 

Why did he? 

He was there, flesh and bone, in the lobby of her building. Trying to talk to her. To her.

And just like any other time before, Harry looked just… Stunning. 

Absolutely and unfairly stunning. 

Wearing all black, just like the last time she’d seen him. Just like when she’d snapped at him and made a fool of herself. When he’d made her realize she needed to take a step back from him.

A tingle spread on her stomach. 

She swallowed down, then tightened the grip of her crossed arms. 

Under the black fabric of her plain t-shirt, Harry’s body seemed thick with muscle. His arms looked too big for those short sleeves, something she’d already noticed and thought about before. Something she usually enjoyed paying attention to. 

Breathe in, breathe out, Lia. 

Breathe in, breathe out.

Her stomach tingled again, except this time it heated all over her body.

His strong, imposing figure had always sparked inside her a flush of craving for him. It had been the reason for so many of her not-so-innocent dreams, and the encouragement for so many of her hidden fantasies. She couldn’t recall a time in her life when she had desired a man like that, and it saddened her to think there was nothing she could do about it. 

“Please?” Harry insisted, sliding his hand down through the thick wood, but still holding the door open. 

Great. She had forgotten to speak. Again.

Lia blinked. And swallowed. “W–why?”

Her voice was shaking just as much as her hands had been seconds before, but she couldn’t allow herself to think too much about that. She didn’t even care, to be honest. All she wanted to know and all she cared about was why. 

Why was Harry there? 

Why did Harry want to talk to her? 

Why couldn’t she just forget about it? 

Why couldn’t she just move on? 

Why couldn’t she just be different? 

Why couldn’t her life be different? 

Why couldn’t things be different? 

Why couldn’t they be easier?

Why?

Why?! 

Why?!

“Because you deserve an apology.”

Lia blinked again. Once, and then a couple more times. 

His words not only didn’t answer most of her questions, but also created a bunch of new ones. 

What was he even doing? 

Was he being serious? 

Or was it all just a joke to him?

“I just—I don’t—” She drew her eyebrows closer and closer, until her forehead creased and wrinkled.

"Look,” Harry said, pausing only to take a deep breath in and pull his hair back. “I know I don’t deserve it, and I get that you don’t want to listen… But I just need a minute, that’s all. Just give me a minute and I’ll be out of your way. I promise. Please.”

Lia bit the insides of her bottom lip. 

Generally speaking, Lia didn’t think she would’ve been able to say no to him, because she honestly didn’t want to say no to him. Still, any doubts that could’ve dared to cross her mind and make her second guess her decision disappeared as she looked at him—as she truly looked at him.

Because everything about Harry looked just the same as always, but somehow he looked completely different from any other time before.

Maybe it was because she’d never seen him in such a casual context—after all, they had never met or talked to each other in any circumstance that didn’t involve the bar. 

Shit. 

Would she even be able to hold a real conversation with him? 

A sigh left her mouth, and Lia dropped her shoulders.

It wasn’t even about that, was it? That is, what felt different. It wasn’t about the context or the place. Right? It was something else… Something about the way he looked at her, perhaps… Something about the way he seemed to carry softness and worry in his stare. Two things she hadn’t seen on him before. Not aiming towards her, at least.  

“Okay.” Her voice was soft, and it took her by surprise — she definitely hadn’t planned on speaking up.  

And apparently it took Harry by surprise, too, because he widened his eyes and asked, “Okay?” 

Lia swallowed, and nodded once. 

“Really?” he insisted. 

“Yes… Okay.”

“Ok,” he repeated, mimicking her previous nod. He stared inside her eyes for a moment, then glanced down to the floor. It was hard to tell what was crossing his mind as he silently shuffled on his feet, or when he took his free hand up and pulled his hair back. “Right. Yeah, ok. Let’s talk, then.”

Lia pressed her lips together and waited for him to speak up first, mostly because she couldn’t think of one single thing to say to him. 

Harry, on the other hand, stood there with furrowed brows and puzzled eyes, as if he was going through his own personal battle inside his own mind. 

Until, eventually, he shook his head and cleared his throat.

“Sorry.” He stepped forward, and as he walked inside, he let the door go and looked over his shoulder, watching until it fully closed behind him. 

There was a pause, in which he took the time to face her again and shove his hands inside of his pockets. 

And then, serious and determined, Harry spoke again. “To be completely honest, I didn’t think this through. I’ve just been thinking a lot about what happened, so I wanted to apologize to you. Because I’m really sorry for the other night. And also… Well, for everything else.”

“You don’t have to,” Lia said, and she hated how she sounded way more fragile and unsure than she wanted to. “Apologize, I mean. It’s fine.”

Harry squinted, and his forehead wrinkled. 

“Of course I do. Everything you said the other night was—”

“Please.” She shook her head and looked away from him, tightening her arms around herself. “I—I don’t…”

Her mouth was incredibly dry, and there was an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach that was getting hard to ignore. It was heavy, and it hurt. 

She closed her hands into fists, then dug her nails into her palms to prevent herself from getting lost inside her mind. She focused on the mailboxes on the wall to her left, looking for her name that had been printed and attached under the number of her apartment so many months ago. 

“I don’t want to talk about what I said. Like, I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Harry sighed. 

“Lia…”

“It’s fine, okay? Let’s just forget about everything.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

The front door opened, and Lia turned her head to the new movement. 

“I said I don’t care,” Mr. Jones’ said, his unmistakable voice reaching her ears before she could even see him. He walked in with a frown, but stopped to hold the door open for his wife. “Told you I don’t like the boy.”

Harry looked at his feet and took a step to the side, getting away from the entrance.

“You never like them, Walter,” Mrs. Jones replied with her sweet and shaky voice, walking slowly right behind him. “You’re being worse than—Oh.”

As soon as the woman met Lia’s eyes, she curled her lips into a sweet, wrinkled and excited smile. 

“Good night, sweetheart! Didn’t see you there!”

“How?” the man muttered, closing the door while his wife walked a few more tiny steps forward. “They’re standing right in the way!”

Mrs. Jones kept smiling and rolled her eyes, waving her quivering hand in the air. 

“Forgive my husband. He finds pleasure in being rude. And grumpy."

Lia forced a polite chuckle out of her mouth, aware that the few hours she’d spent with them over the weekend had been enough to reveal how behind the grumpiness there was a very funny and very caring man. 

“‘M just telling the truth,” Mr. Jones muttered again. “Are they or are they not in the way?”

“Of course they aren’t, Walter.” Mrs. Jones dragged her feet through the lobby, right towards Lia and Harry’s direction. “There’s more than enough space for all of us to stand here.”

“But I don’t want to stand here, Mora. I want to go upstairs.”

“You can go ahead if you want. I still need to check the mail.”

Lia stepped backwards, giving the elder lady more room to cross between them and get to the mailboxes. 

Mr. Jones grunted at the same time Harry sighed, and Lia pressed her lips together to hold herself back from laughing—or even smiling. 

“I finished the scarf we started the other day,” Mrs. Jones said. “You should drop by for some coffee and see the result.”

Lia nodded. “Of course. This weekend, maybe?”

“Sounds good, dear. Do you like apple pie?” 

“Sure.”

“I’ll make some, then.”

Mrs. Jones was sweet, she truly was. But as much as Lia didn’t want to admit, they were the worst neighbors that could’ve shown up at the lobby and interrupted them. Because she knew how unhurriedly they lived their lives, and she knew how long it could take them to finally go upstairs. 

Besides, she didn’t think they were even aware they had interrupted something, so she also didn’t think they were aware that their presence was holding a conversation back. 

Mrs. Jones hummed to herself while finally going through the same mailbox she opened everyday, and Harry cleared his throat. 

When Lia looked at him, she found his eyes already watching her. He stood with his hands still inside of his pockets, but the previous softness on his face had been replaced by a clenched jaw and lips pressed together into a line. 

“I think I should go back,” he said.

“Oh. O-okay.”

“Yeah. This isn’t—” 

“Walter, look!” Mrs. Jones blurted out. “We got another grocery coupon!”

Harry shut his mouth, rolled his eyes, and looked up at the ceiling. 

“Those sales are garbage,” Mr. Jones mumbled, standing near the stairs. 

“Of course they aren’t,” the woman scoffed. “We get some very nice meals out of them.”

She opened the magazine, eying the content on the first two pages. 

“Let’s see what we find today,” she added. “Maybe they’ve got some apples. For my apple pie.”

“Ugh. I wanna go upstairs, Mora…”

Harry rolled his shoulders and faced Lia again, instantly locking his green eyes with hers. 

He looked frustrated, or maybe annoyed, and somehow she understood the feeling. Because she was frustrated, too—she didn’t want Harry to leave yet, and she more than definitely didn’t want to miss the opportunity to spend a few more minutes with him, or to listen to what else he could have to say. 

So whilst he had been interrupted, she had been denied the opportunity to be around him. And all she could think about was how much she wanted for him to stay around. How much she wanted to keep listening to him, and how much she wanted for him to keep talking to her.  

Lia’s fingers twitched, and her heartbeat sped up. 

She loosened up the grip of her fists, opening and closing her hands a few times. Then, still stuck inside of his green eyes, she took a deep breath in through her nose, licked her lips and voiced quietly, “We can… I mean… Do you want to go upstairs? We can talk there… Y’know, if you want to.”

Harry widened his eyes. 

“You sure?”

“Y-yeah. But it’s fine if you have to go. I just… I mean…” 

“Upstairs sounds great.” He nodded. “Thank you.”

Lia nodded, too. 

She didn’t give herself time to think about what her words could imply. 

She couldn’t allow herself to think about what Harry being inside her apartment would mean, because if she did, she would send him away. 

And after everything she’d been through, there was absolutely no way Lia would ever forgive herself if she just sent him away.

— — — — — 

The walk upstairs was awfully silent, but Lia didn’t know what she could say to him. She wasn’t good at small talk, and she didn’t want to be the one to bring up their previous conversation. So she distracted herself by fidgeting with her keys, cursing when she dropped them, and blushing when Harry picked them up for her. 

“Shit.” 

“Here.” 

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Those were the only words they spoke, then everything went silent again. 

Breathless and with a pounding heart, Lia couldn’t tell if it was from walking too many flights of stairs or from the fact that she was about to take Harry inside of her apartment. 

The moment she didn’t give herself to think before inviting him, hit her between the first and second floor, and it was only downhill from then on.

What was wrong with her?

What was she even thinking?! 

Well, actually she wasn’t thinking. Of course. That had been the whole point, right? She didn’t think, because if she did, she wouldn’t have invited him. She knew she wouldn’t. Of course she wouldn’t! Because she shouldn’t have!

How could she be so freaking stupid? 

It’s just… She didn’t even know him! And in the few and short interactions they’d shared in the past several months, he had been nothing but rude and unfairly mean to her. 

So, yeah, that was such, such a terrible idea!

She’d just spent days—weeks—deeply regretting sharing her insecurities with him. Pondering about how it was time to finally move on and forget about that crush. And yet there she was again: about to let Harry burst another one of her tiny bubbles. About to open up the front door of her tiny apartment and let him in; then turn on the lights and allow him to see the insides of her safest and most personal space.

So, so stupid!

Lia reached the landing before the last set of steps and exhaled slowly, letting the air out of her mouth as if she could also release all the tension out of her body. 

They were almost there. 

It was getting real. It was about to happen. 

And she’d have to deal with the situation. 

There was no going back anymore. 

Or, well… 

Maybe there was, but… 

Did she really want to go back?

No. Of course she didn’t. 

She lifted her arm and pointed her keys ahead, aiming at the second door. 

“We’re—” Her voice faltered, and heat spread through her cheeks. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “We’re here.” 

She walked forward, then focused on putting the key in the lock without trembling. Once she succeeded, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, then reached for the switch and turned the light on. 

“Sorry for the mess,” she said, hanging her keys on the wall. 

Lia wasn’t a messy person, but she hadn’t bothered with cleaning up her apartment in the last two days. 

In her defense, though, she wasn’t expecting any guests. Wednesday or not, people never showed up at her place out of nowhere. She didn’t invite anyone she didn’t feel comfortable with, and those who visited knew her well enough to always give her a heads up.

Two things Harry hadn’t done. 

He seemed an exception to absolutely everything in her life so far. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry said. He kept his distance, but still stood close enough for her to feel his presence behind her. “You should see my place.”

There was a playful scoff at the end of his sentence, and Lia knew he was only being polite by insinuating how messier his own place was, but still, the prospect of visiting Harry’s home made her insides twinkle.

She had absolutely no idea where he lived, or who he lived with—was it a house? An apartment? Did he live with his family? Did he have any roommates? Did he live by himself? Did he have any pets? 

Did he have a girlfriend?

Harry had never given Lia the chance for her to ask anything about his life. He had never given her the chance to get to know him. 

If he had, Lia liked to believe she would’ve been brave enough to ask him everything she always wanted to know about him—about his family, his hobbies, his childhood, and even about his dreams. 

He had an accent, so was she correct by assuming he was British? Was his family from there, too? Why did he leave the UK? Did he have any siblings, or was he an only child? Did he see them often? If not, did he miss them?

“It’s really nice here,” Harry said. 

“Um… Yeah.” Lia shrugged. “It’s a good place to live, I guess.”

Up on the fourth floor, her rented apartment wasn’t big, nor fancy. To be honest, she’d always found everything about the place normal and simple, which felt more than enough for her. The space was limited, but it had never felt cramped. A living room and an open-concept kitchen, with only a counter setting the limits between them, and then a tiny hallway that led to the bedroom and the bathroom. 

And that was it. That was all she had to offer.

“You should… I mean,” Lia said, walking further into the living room. “Make yourself comfortable, and all that…”

She walked past the coffee table and the messy remains of her laziness from the night before. After the dark gray counter, she rubbed both hands against her jeans, then turned another light on. Just at the same time, the front door clicked, and she jumped around.

Harry stood awkwardly by the dark wood, his hands hidden inside of his pockets, just like before.

“Sorry.” She leaned her side against the end of the counter. “I’m not… I’m not used to having people over, so… I’m not good at this.”

Harry shrugged, curling his lips up just slightly. “I think you’re doing great.”

Lia snorted and looked down at her feet, then crossed her arms under her chest. “Sure.”

“Look, about the—”

“Who’s at the bar?” She blurted out. “Shouldn’t you be there?”

“Uh, yeah… I should, but Sagey is there. She’s covering for me.”

Lia nodded.

“Right.”

Sagey.

The way the nickname for his coworker rolled so easily out of his tongue made her want to crawl into his arms. It screamed affection, and trust, and for a moment she envied the fact that someone could so easily be part of his life.

She closed her eyes for a second, then looked over her shoulder and back to the kitchen.

“Do you want some coffee?”

“No, thanks. Actually—”

“Tea?” 

“I—”

“You’re British, right?” She faced him again. “Do you really drink tea or is that just a myth?”

Harry tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips, watching her. And then, after a moment, he just dropped his head down and chuckled. 

The joyful, beautiful, and yet discreet sound that came out of his mouth was unexpected, and it once again made Lia’s heartbeat get faster and louder. 

“I am British, yeah,” Harry finally said, then looked up at her. The remains of a smile still dancing through his lips. “But I’m good, thank you.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Maybe some other time, though?”

The chances of her and Harry ever meeting at her apartment again didn’t seem likely, let alone for them to have a coffee or tea together. But she wouldn’t tell him that. 

Instead, she nodded, and looked down at her feet. “Sure. Another time.”

“Good. Now, do you have any other questions, drinks to offer, or…”

Lia widened her eyes and darted her sight back to him.

She had been rambling a lot, hadn’t she? Not letting him talk and interrupting with awkward and stupid questions and… Shit.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, shaking her head and straightening up her body. That had been so rude of her! “Really, I… I didn’t mean to keep interrupting you. Sorry.”

“C’mon, it’s fine,” Harry said, taking a step forward and closer to the couch. “I’m just teasing you.”

“It’s just... I’m—I’m nervous, I think? I mean, usually when I’m nervous I just shut up? So I don’t… I don’t really know why I can’t stop talking right now,  but... Maybe... I don’t know. I guess… I guess this is a different kind of ’nervous’? I mean… I don’t… Yeah. I—I don’t know. Sorry. Shit. I’ll just shut up now. Sorry.”

She chuckled, but quickly regretted it, letting the sound fade in the silent air around them. It felt awkward, as if she was forcing the fun out of her body. And maybe she truly was, because she didn’t feel like laughing—she just thought it would be polite to do so. That it would be better if she looked happy, instead of insecure. Or nervous. Or sad. 

“Lia, I don’t…” Harry looked down, took a deep breath in, and shook his head. When he met her eyes again, his tone—along with his actions—was clearly softer, careful. Almost afraid. “Look, I’m the only one who should be apologizing here. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? And I am sorry Lia, I really am. Those things you said the other night were—"

“It’s okay.” Lia shook her head and stepped towards the couch. “Like I said, I really don’t want to talk about any of the things I said.”

She grabbed the blanket she’d left there the night before, wrapping it as best as she could and holding it onto her chest. 

“But I—”

“Those were very personal things for me to share okay? And I just— Please… I mean… I can’t—I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Ok. Yes. Of course. I shouldn’t… I don’t want to force you to talk about it. I just need to make sure you know how sorry I am for making you feel that way. Because I really am.”

Shit. 

She turned around, dropping the cozy and warm fabric on the armchair. 

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, c’mon. I was out of line and shouldn’t have treated you like that.” 

Lia sighed. 

What did he want her to say? 

Yes, he’d hurt her, but she was trying to move on. So relieving the whole situation wouldn’t help her. 

Besides, it wasn’t Harry’s fault if she didn’t know how to talk or interact with people. 

“Lia…” he called. 

She dropped her arms to her sides, then turned to face him once again. 

She really didn’t want to talk about it. 

“Can you please let it go? It’s just… I shouldn’t have said anything. And I’m really embarrassed about the whole thing.”

He hid his hands inside his pockets and shrugged.

“I’m embarrassed, too. Acted like a proper… What was it? Oh right, like an asshole.” 

Lia’s mouth curled up into a smile, and she bit her bottom lip to hold it back.

Despite the embarrassment, a part of her felt proud of herself for calling him out that night. Both nights. Standing up to people was really hard for her. She almost never cursed out loud, nor disrespected people in any way, so calling Harry an asshole—more than once—had felt like crossing a bridge.

Still, it didn’t mean she thought it was a nice thing to do. Or that he couldn’t have found it offensive.

“Sorry… For calling you an asshole.”

Harry curled one side of his mouth up. “I totally deserved it.”

There was a playful tone in his voice, but the way he was suddenly looking at her made it impossible for Lia to react.

Dark green irises fixed on her, they drifted all over her face. 

Even standing on opposite sides of the living room, Harry focused on her in a way he hadn’t focused before. Giving her all of his attention. As if he was studying her every detail. Or as if he had never seen her before. Or as if he was mapping every left and right to remember a path he’d trail later in time. 

To be honest, it would be difficult for Lia to explain, but something about his stare made her stomach flutter. It caused a flush of shyness to spread from her shoulders to her neck, and all over her face. 

At the same time, though, his gaze comforted her. It made her feel like he was trying his best to be gentle to her. It made her feel like he was being honest with her. Like he somehow cared for her.

“Shit,” Harry murmured, breaking the moment and looking down to his pants. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, staring at the screen as it flashed between his fingers. “It’s Sagey.”

Oh. 

He sighed, yet didn’t make any effort to act on it. 

“I should go back.” 

Lia cleared her throat, then crossed her arms under her chest. 

“Right. Of course.”

“I wouldn’t, but…”

“You have to work.”

“Yeah.”

Time froze as they silently looked at each other. 

It felt exciting, even though at moments it took everything inside her not to run away from the intensity of his gaze. 

“Sagey is still getting used to everything,” he suddenly added. “And I know she can handle it, but I don’t wanna leave her by herself for too long. Can be kind of hectic sometimes.” 

Lia shrugged, pulling her lips into the most genuine smile she could find inside her. “You don’t need to explain yourself.” 

“I know, yeah. I just…”

Harry looked down, and Lia tilted her head to the side.

What, Harry? 

You just... What?!

He sighed.

“You believe I’m sorry, right?”

Lia didn’t have to force a smile after his words—it came out naturally as she nodded.

“I do, yes.”

“Ok. Good.” He looked over his shoulder, towards the door. “I’ll get going, then.”

“Right. Let me open the door for you.” Lia walked around the coffee table, as fast and as far away from him as she could.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind the fact that she wasn’t going to walk him downstairs—she didn’t think she would be able to handle any more awkward conversations with him.

Harry followed her lead, taking a few steps closer to the door before he cleared his throat. 

“You should come by tonight… If you’re free, of course.”

As she opened the door, Lia furrowed her brows. She stepped aside, then faced him again. 

Harry chuckled, shrugging lightly and walking outside. 

“To the bar, I mean. Feel like I owe you a drink.” 

Oh… 

Lia rested her temple against the frame, half-smiling at him. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Yeah, I do. For being rude to you.”

“Harry, stop. I—”

“Look,” he said, raising both hands in the air and showing his palms to her, “all I’m offering you is a free drink. That’s all, ok? No pressure.”

There was no way she was going to walk into the bar that night, or any other any time soon. But he didn’t need to know that, so Lia bit back a smile, and nodded.

“Okay. Sure. Thank you, then.”

“Ok.” Harry smiled. “Great. Then… I guess I’ll… Well…” 

“Yes?”

“Bye, Lia.”

“Bye, Harry.”

“Have a good night.”

Lia chuckled. “Thanks. You too.” 

“See you soon.”

“See you.” 

“Bye.”

“Goodbye, Harry.”

“Actually…” 

He ran back up, and Lia laughed.

“Oh my God.”

“Sorry.” He smiled. “I was just wondering, and you can say no if you want, of course, but… Would it be okay for me to ask your phone number?”

(TWO)

[https-sourlimes]

home meals with you! . . .

featuring – aventurine x gn!reader

synopsis: there was a lot going on in his head... perhaps he thought, your cooking was too good for him, and he never deserved you at all...

consist of: 1k2+ word vomit... aventurine is a nervous emotional wreck, and if i say it's angst to fluff would you believe me? mentions of food, and marriage (champagne problems referred iykyk), domestic life w aven.

sincere regards to my pookie @akutasoda for helping me brainstorm an idea and proofreading; my favourite aventurine kisser @theother-victoria for proofreading <33

quality time was the love language that AVENTURINE did not know that he possessed. he never knew a thing or two of the reason why or when it started, but when he stirred awake by the warmth of sunlight streaming down his face, patting on the mattress beside him then found it empty, he'd end up dozing off again on his belly in your secured arms when he found you by the living room's couch; his weekend was dedicated to you, and he just wanted you with him, to selfishly ask for the affection that you showered on him always and think it would never be enough.

spoiling you until he's broken broke is what aventurine concepts. to him, gift giving is the effortless love language that he can express, whilst the four remains never worked out on the aventurine who lived in the orbit of lies and contract. he thought that it'll be easier that way, and he is slowly letting love once again thaw away his dense heart, and the one who did it so perfectly, much to his expectations, was you. then, to his surprise, the idea of you demanding shiny, glamorous luxuries or brands vanished when he found himself with you in the oti mall, browsing by the groceries, picking up the fresh ingredients of your liking, instead.

"i love homemade meals," you told him – and aventurine couldn't help the fond smile he was wearing when he looked at you tiptoeing to reach the higher shelves for the pasta box of your favourite and the childish excitement in your eyes as you skip back to him to show him what you got. and then suddenly, aventurine feels like he loves homemade meals, too.

does the image of you – putting your hand around his arm, aimlessly strolling through the shop while he was pushing the cart, your thoughts were elsewhere between the ingredients of the upcoming meal and never noticing that you were making his stomach churn – thrive him? i bet it does. because he can not concentrate, his eyes fixed on you, nodding mindlessly to whatever you're planning to make tonight (it doesn't matter because he will swallow it whole) then find the lamest excuses to kiss you, your hair, your face to satisfy his most intrusive demands. you are the biggest treasure that he has ever prevailed, he noted. you were trusting him entirely, giving unconditional love, staying by his side. how can he possibly live without you? you're driving him nuts!

and when aventurine's tongue touched the first bite of anything you made, sweets or savouries, he imagined filling his stomach full with your unyielding love, the one that undoubtedly never failed to remind him that he was yours truly to be cherished, to be taken care of. undeserving of you? yes, inevitably, or maybe that was just his thoughts; so aventurine found himself savouring every moment with you in the kitchen, invading your attempts to cook and stealing kisses, he knew he was going to dedicate the rest of his life to the person he intended to marry and to love you harder than you do to him.

aventurine never dares to dream about a family with you, he couldn't bring himself to crave it when the past of failing to protect his own in sigonia haunted him like some sort of ghost, everything feels illegal. the thoughts exiled the golden boy in prison of indecision and despair,... and then he stumbles upon the last words leaving his mouth when you mention wanting a betrothal life with him. he didn't feel ready yet – he'd fail you, (at first!), and it was disheartening. you said you understood and were there with him the entire time, but aventurine knew he was the problem, not you.

aventurine wanted to confide in you that he would be lying if he said his eyes weren't tearing up at the sight of you waiting patiently until he is ready, until he surpassed all of his trauma and reached his final decision. he knew he never deserved you, no matter how hard you'd been trying to make him feel like he did, he would then die for you, gambled all of his existence over again just to lose it all to your overpower love.

aventurine was a coward, he claimed. he couldn't bring his messed up life that once considered so insignificant that it was traded as some goods up for auction, and a chip he brought to bet in his high stakes with treacherous risks to dedicate to you, it was unfair for you, he couldn't be selfish. it was excruciating that he couldn't refrain himself from basking in your unconditional love, even if, to him, it was forbidden.

and when he had you pressed against the wall, aventurine lifted your chin up and kissed you fiercely with the best of gratitude and love, mostly to shut you up and to soothe his aching heart when he heard you repeat that you understood with that agonizing voice once again, aventurine said he was sorry, that he would do better and sort this out quickly to make everything up to you properly. it pained him to see you wait so voluntarily for him, he was trapped with hesitation, between letting himself love you with his entirely heart and the thought that you'd definitely deserve someone better than him?

but when on a beautiful friday, aventurine's heart burned selfishly with the swelling sight of you, wearing an apron so breathtakingly, humming to your favourite song on the phone sat beside the counter, the delicious aroma you're stirring filled his senses, his breath hitched, it felt like as if you had already been his spouse, cooking dinner, waiting for their husband to be home, and to his utmost selfish thought that spoke louder than all of his logical minds, just, what if... someday you got tired and gave up on him? would he be able to see you looking like this ever again?

"Kakavasha..."

he opened his eyes, the real name of his that you let slip so easily from your soft lips felt like a salvation; he hummed in response, gently holding your hand on his face as you looked down at the sleepy man on your lap. aventurine caressed the shiny cold material with a small exclusive gem he selected himself attatched on top of it that wrapped perfectly around your ring finger, contentment was written all across his face. ah, yes... he has been sleeping in his spouse's lap, no?

"can you please get up? it's almost past lunch and we haven't had anything properly," you sigh, the chuckle you let out helplessly.

aventurine stirred slightly before lazily sitting up, scooting closer and snaking his arms around you, holding you snuggled against him while he buried his face in your hair, sinking entirely in your presence.

"mhm... sit still. just a little longer. lunch can wait, i'll swallow them whole everything you make, anyway."

So if, once again, your husband dozed off on your lap on a calming sunday morning, make sure to do something with it. if not, please be prepared and stay strong with a clear mind or you'd end up getting charmed by his antics which he knew so well that it touched right in the soft spot for only him in you. (or you might as well pay him back with your own cooking technique, one of the reasons he married you home and loved you so good...)

© 2024 https-sourlimes. all rights reserved. (banner source: aventurine's eidolons 5 from official honkai: star rai art)

ending notes: *sigh* this man is making me feeling things. ❤️‍🩹 and tagging @synqiri because this cutie asked to be here <33

[daisyofwaterdeep]

Magical Intrusion | Chapter 1

!NSFW! male companions x cisfem reader This chapter contains: Gale Dekarios, sexual fantasies

Gale tries to create some magical relief for his lonely nights

~~~

Everything is in place. Gale turns the padded sleeve in his hands, tugging at the seams that close it off at about 7 inches, then turning it again to inspect the entrance, padded fuller to the point of stiffness. He delves two fingers in, pleased with the water repellent spell he had cast on the silk lining. Everything seems to be in order.

Now, the tricky part.

He had been tinkering with the set of spells for the past several tenday, to various degrees of success. But now, Gale feels that they're ready to be put to proper action.

A warming enchantment goes first, and works perfectly. A water creation spell now, with a few tweaks that makes the liquid more oiled and viscous. That goes well also.

Gale stops for a moment, heart hammering and mouth far too dry. This last charm is far more complex than the other two, and far more likely to go awry. He has to do this perfectly, elst the rest of his work will have been for naught. It had taken him nearly the whole trip to get the supplies he needed, and he doesn't know if he has the heart to start again if this goes wrong.

He takes a deep breath and places his hands over the makeshift sleeve as he begins reciting the enchantment. A blue light spreads in his finger tips and transfers to the material, casting a faint glow. He pictures in his mind a fantasy that he's harbored ever since he met you, leaving no lurid detail unthought. The grip of your cunt, the flutter of it, how it would feel and taste and smell. He channels all of his desire into the object, your name chanting in his head as he feels volatile energy start to crackle at his fingertips.

Gale?

Your voice cuts through his thoughts and at first he thinks he's manifested it, but then he feels the familiar prodding of another mind against his. The spell in his hands dies out instantly, afterimages of the blue light dancing in his now dark vision. He quickly shuts his mind to you, shooting back his own mental words.

Is something the matter?

No, I just thought I heard you say my name.

Gale wipes a bead of perspiration from his forehead, trying not to let his panic consume him.

Through the tadpole?

No, through your tent.

Oh gods, how embarrassing. With you being his camping neighbor, he should have been more cautious....He thinks quickly on how to rectify the situation.

My apologies. I was reading a rather engaging book...I suppose I may have muttered a few words out loud.

I figured as much. Just wanted to be sure.

Of course. Do try to get some rest.

You as well. See you in the morning.

He feels your presence slip from his mind, and only then does he allow himself to breathe--quietly, of course, so as you don't hear him struggling from your laying spot nearby.

The enchantment...he has no idea if it was a success or not, and he's not brave enough to light a candle and see if it did, rattled as he is.

With his heart still beating too fast for comfort, Gale takes the sleeve and tucks it securely into his pack before laying out on his bedroll.

He'll have to wait until tomorrow to see if his hard work has produced any fruit. At the very least, it'll give him a chance to set up camp a bit farther from the rest of his companions.

Gale has waited this long to try out his little contraption....waiting one day more will be easy.

NEXT CHAPTER (coming soon!)

A/N: this is just a short set up, all the real juicy stuff will be in the next chapter ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ (shoutout to anyone who knows where this is goingggggg)

[pepi1989]

Also (me again) a long ben Shelton about your first date? Like maybe Bryan had to give Ben the confidence to ask you out after being friends with you for so long and you’re both at a red carpet event when he does ask you in private and how that date goes/ what he plans and how he dresses and how it ends etc.

More Than Friends - Ben Shelton

Ben’s hands felt a little too warm, stuffed in his pockets as he shifted awkwardly. The red carpet was full of flashing cameras, people calling his name, but all he could focus on was you. You stood just a few feet away, smiling as you posed for a few photos. Your outfit was stunning, perfectly suited for the glitz of the event, and Ben couldn’t help but stare.

“Man, you gotta ask her out tonight,” his dad, Bryan, had told him earlier. “You’ve been friends for too long to not give it a shot. Just go for it.”

But the thought of ruining the friendship, the one constant he had, made his chest tighten. You and Ben had been friends for so long that asking you out felt like crossing some invisible line he wasn’t sure he was ready for. But here you were, more beautiful than ever, and Bryan’s words echoed in his head.

As the event wrapped up and the cameras shifted elsewhere, Ben caught your eye. “Hey,” he started, voice steady despite the nerves bubbling underneath. “You wanna get out of here for a bit?”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “Ditching the red carpet already?”

Ben chuckled, running a hand through his short curls. “Yeah, well, I had something else in mind.”

You followed him out of the chaotic scene, slipping into the quiet behind the scenes. The city lights outside the venue glowed softly through the large windows, casting everything in a warm, golden hue. Ben paused and turned to face you, the tension finally catching up to him.

“Look,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ve been thinking… for a while now actually, and I know we’re friends, good friends, but I was wondering if you’d wanna go on a date with me? Like, tonight?”

You blinked, surprised but clearly amused. “Ben, are you asking me out on a date… after dragging me out of a red carpet event?”

He laughed, the nervous energy bubbling out as he looked away for a second. “Yeah, I guess I am. But I’ve had this planned, trust me.”

You tilted your head, clearly intrigued. “Planned, huh? Alright, Shelton, I’m in.”

The rooftop was perfect. String lights were strung up above, casting a soft glow over the cozy setup. A small table, set for two, waited for you in the middle of the space, with the city skyline stretching out around you. Ben watched as you took in the sight, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Wow,” you breathed, clearly impressed. “Okay, I didn’t expect this.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Ben said with a grin, pulling out your chair for you.

You sat down, still a little in awe. “So, when exactly did you plan all this?”

“Let’s just say I had it ready in case… I ever worked up the courage.” Ben rubbed his hands together, clearly still a little nervous despite the charm he was putting on.

The night was filled with easy conversation, laughter, and moments where the two of you just stared out at the lights below. Despite the fact that this was your first date, it didn’t feel awkward at all, more like an extension of the friendship you’d always shared.

Ben, however, was different tonight. A little more thoughtful, a little more attentive. He kept glancing at you when he thought you weren’t looking, and his smile held something deeper than usual. It wasn’t until dessert, though, that he finally let himself say what had been on his mind.

“You know,” he started, his voice softer than before. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a while. Like, a long while.”

You set your fork down, your curiosity piqued. “Yeah? What held you back?”

He looked down, fingers tapping lightly on the table before he met your gaze again. “I was scared, honestly. We’ve been friends forever, and I didn’t want to mess that up. But I… I like you. More than just as a friend.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you.

“Ben,” you began, your voice soft, “you could’ve told me that sooner, you know.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, took a little push from my dad.”

You smiled, leaning back in your chair as you watched him. “And here I thought you were fearless on and off the court.”

“I am!” he protested, grinning as he leaned in slightly. “Just… not when it comes to you.”

The playful banter between you was easy, but beneath it all, there was a tenderness you hadn’t realized was there before. The night ended with a slow walk under the stars, Ben’s hand brushing against yours as he reached out to hold it. Neither of you said much, but the silence was comfortable, filled with all the things that didn’t need to be said.

As the two of you stopped outside your place, Ben turned to face you, his eyes filled with that same nervous energy from earlier. “So, was that okay? First date and all?”

You smiled up at him, squeezing his hand gently. “It was perfect.”

He leaned in then, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to your forehead before stepping back, his grin spreading wide. “Good. ‘Cause I’m planning on taking you out again.”

[casualavocados]

Learn from who? Learn from you?

Chen Bowen as CHEN YI & Chiang Tien as AI DI KISEKI: DEAR TO ME (2023)

[jemmo]

also this ep was so genius for retelling the last ep through tinn’s pov. like at the end of the ep you get a glimpse of what he does for gun, and in this one you see the true extent of just how in love he is and just how far he’ll go for this crush he’s been harbouring for years. and the thing is you believe in it so quickly, you’re like yes ofc he’s had a big fat ridiculous crush on this boy for years, it’s not a stretch at all. and do you know why? bc ep 1 spends its whole time developing gun, letting us get to know him, seeing him being cute and adorable and joyous and determined and funny and all this stuff, and we fall in love with him. so when tinn says he fell in love with him at first sight, at first song, you believe it, because we did too.

I’m telling you. This dumb little high school rom-com is pure genius.

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

I love this scene because even after everything, the first thing Naesala does when he gets into the room is react in panic about Reyson and Leanne being unconscious. In that short moment, he just reacted on the instinct that he's always cared about them, despite how shaky things had gotten with Reyson a few years ago and how he was forced to do the things he did (including with the Laguz Alliance in RD).

If he was thinking logically and had a moment to process the situation, he might've stood back and pretended to care less than he actually did, as is usual for him. In this case he didn't hesitate to react and ran to them as soon as he walked in, because it was a knee jerk reaction.

If he sat back and thought about it, he would've known Tibarn was going to start making threats and trying to pick a fight, but his genuine desires overcame logic for just a second long enough for him fear for Reyson and Leanne. As long as the two of them are alive and well, he can continue putting on that mask and faking his way through it. If there's any chance they're in life threatening danger, he'll change course to make sure they're safe (such as refusing to fight Reyson when he was in service to the Crimean army, even at his own expense).

Since Naesala wasn't aware how badly the herons were being affected by the medallion, he wasn't aware in advance that they were in any danger. He doesn't know what happened here, so he walks in and suddenly sees them unconscious on the floor. For all he knew, it could've been life threatening - hence his instant response that didn't wait for his brain to register that he's supposed to be playing the bad guy. I think the only reason he could calm down and conclude it wasn't is because nobody else was panicking/grieving with the implication of a possible death.

(And fwiw, yes, he did have to technically sell Reyson to Oliver in PoR. If he didn't abide by something the senate wanted, Oliver could just make up some story to Lekain to get him to trigger the Blood Pact. Naesala knew he was being a snake to get the whole thing to happen, but he did technically have to go through with it the moment anyone from the senate wanted something from him)

[arklay]

going a bit silly over how diana never felt comfortable with her surnames before wesker. because that fit. it felt right. either because of who she now was or who it belonged to, who knows, but she was happy with who she was when that followed her name. afanasyeva accompanied a sad, lonely, little girl; [redacted], however short-lived, came from a regret; sharp was a cover, a lie, and nothing more. but wesker, there was a sense of belonging there

[420pogpills]

um . 'everything everywhere all at once' is one of the best movies i have ever seen in my entire life .

[areyouwho-ithinkyouare]

okok i’m doing prep for d&d later and they’re arriving in a new town so i’m working on that community and ohhhhhh my god i think this is my favourite npc i’ve ever created i hope they dont ignore her or kill her bcus i want 2 be her more than once pleaase

[inmaki]

number one sorcerer (and virgin) .

synopsis: req! in which your boyfriend — notorious for boasting about how good he is in bed — turns out to be all bark and no bite (until you give him some guidance, at least).

pairing: virgin!switch!gojo x f!reader

wc: est. 6k?

incl: unprotected sex, pull-out method, lots of dirty talk, a bit of teaching gojo, petnames, manhandling, size kink, clit play, praise kink, edging (himself), teasing, mocking, fingering, oral (f + slight m), cum swallowing

a/n: ty for awakening smtn in me anon it was nice to be writing a full fic again!! hope im not too rusty,, this is straight up filth tho so mdni

back when satoru and you were just friends, he liked to make it very clear to your circle of peers that he wasn’t just good at sex.

no, according to himself, he was some kind of sex god — to match his power level in sorcery, of course.

and obviously, who was anyone to think otherwise? the great gojo satoru; such a cocky and confident demeanour paired with angelic white hair, piercing blue eyes, and a tall sculpted body that other guys at the gym double-take at. him..? a virgin? hah! good one.

satoru believes that he’s done a rather spectacular job at keeping his reputation sky-high.

the only problem was.. now he had a girlfriend with high expectations to please.

since the day you’d gotten together — going multiple months strong — satoru was starting to sweat more and more knowing that his rather crucial fabrication was bound to be brought up sooner or later. you had your needs just like him, and satoru wouldn’t blame you if you were a bit worried about why he hasn’t initiated anything; y’know, since he was supposedly eros in human form and all that.

little did you know your boyfriend felt equally frustrated. for slightly different reasons.

“bro, it’d be hot if she was a virgin, but me?!” flopping back against the armrest, gojo lets out a theatrical groan while his best friend — the only other person to know of his dark secret — snickers against the cushions nearby.

“everything’d be fine if you didn’t pretend to be some incubus that makes girls cum with a snap of his finger,” geto quips unhelpfully.

satoru lifts his head, sneering when he realizes that the raven-haired man was much too busy scrolling on his phone to notice how he’s resting a pair of dirty shoes on his white couch. “that would be pretty cool..” when he only receives a disgusted glance, he huffs, suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable as his thoughts wander further. “how’m i even gonna tell her? what if she doesn’t trust me anymore?”

at last, suguru looks up with a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “you know y/n isn’t like that. just.. wait for her to initiate something and go with the flow,” he advises, lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“you find a way to be good at everything, anyway, toru. she’ll be begging for you in no time.”

as usual, geto knows him too well, because those last few words have gojo shooting up from the sofa with a grin. “ya think so?”

“hell yeah, man.” the two idiots end the discussion by dapping each other up, a confident gleam in both of their eyes.

only a couple days later, satoru discovers that going with the flow isn’t as easy as suguru advised. with your plush lips sucking his bottom one through occasional moans, along with a delicate pair of nails scratching perfectly at his undercut, he already felt himself getting breathless and aroused like a teenager.

perhaps you’ve put him under a spell; how is it that he lasts through prolonged battles while barely breaking a sweat, but having your cute hand move to rub up on his abs and pecs send his nerves into overdrive? it wasn’t like making out wasn’t uncommon for the two of you, this time it just felt so passionate with the way your hips moved to straddle his, tongue practically begging for entrance while the movie on screen was left long forgotten.

gojo can’t help but groan as your muscle explores his mouth, core ever so smoothly grinding on his bulge and igniting heat through his entire body. even as you pull away to take a breath, his grip on your waist remains stable as if you’d disappear at any moment— growing even tighter with the way you bore into his eyes hungrily. “satoru..”

your unusually seductive voice makes him audibly gulp. “y— yeah?” he whispers, glancing to the hand thats now moving down over his grey sweats. shit, this was too much, was he dreaming? he should do something, pinch himself before—

“touch me, please?” as you voice your request, you squeeze his dick so nicely that satoru swears he nearly explodes in his boxers.

he swallows, words getting lost in his throat. “i— i uh...”

for the first time in history, satoru has been rendered speechless, and you visibly panic at this realization. yet when you try to carefully maneuver off his lap and give him space, the clutch on your waist intensifies. “what— are you okay? what’s wrong?” you murmur, brows creasing with concern.

though you never brought it up, satoru’s worry about your confusion was correct; you’d been expecting him to jump your bones a week into your relationship, but seeing how he never forced anything and remained respectful was cute.. at first. after a month of rejection and being pushed away whenever things got too heated, insecurities were bound to start brewing inside you.

he better have a damn good explanation.

“i’m fine,” he reassures, “it’s just— i should probably tell you something..” refusing to meet your eyes, the sorcerer resorts to drawing shapes against the skin under your t-shirt. in other situations, this would feel soothing, relaxing even — but currently, his lacking and lingering touch made you want to rip the hairs off your head.

all you wanted was to finally get a taste of your steaming hot boyfriend. what could he possibly need to say right now? you ponder, hasn’t he been dying to finally show off how amazing he is in bed?

“yes..?”

“it’s actually a funny story, ahaha..” he stalls, chuckling nervously as you turn his jaw to make eye contact. a feeling of impatience and neediness pulls through you, but you contain yourself with a deep breath.

“spit it out, satoru.”

there was no going back now, right? “so.. i’ve uh— i’ve never actually done this before.”

you blink.

“you’re a virgin?”

it was difficult to believe your own words; it sounded wrong no matter how hard you tried to wrap your head around it. satoru being inexperienced? the satoru with a rock hard 6 pack? the satoru with biceps that bulge out of his shirts and a face sharp enough to be sculpted by aphrodite herself? your satoru?

it sounded ridiculous, but the ugly pout rising across his lips tells you that it wasn’t a prank after all. “hey, don’t call me that, now it sounds way worse!”

a sigh escapes your lips, arms folded across your chest. “so all those never have i ever games and stories you told about one night stands were— mph!" before you know it, a large hand is covering your mouth.

“listen, how about we talk about this after having some fun?” a surprisingly determined gleam shines in your boyfriend’s icy blue eyes, making your thighs clench together in excitement.

who were you to say no to that?

—

next thing you know, pillows support your back as a shirtless satoru lies directly in front of your clothed crotch, hot breath making you wiggle around impatiently.

“jus— just take it off me, toru. so damn slow—“

“baby,” he scolds, looking genuinely upset, “this is my first time seeing a pussy in real life and you’re ruining it with your lack of patience.”

you can only roll your eyes and groan, head flopping back against the cushions in boredom. there was no way to predict how satoru’s first time would go, but you never expected it’d be this agonizing on your end — nor that he’d be so bossy.

though luckily, after another deep breath, your panties are gently tugged down your legs, and satoru can only inhale as he watches your poor hole clench around nothing. it only made sense that after all that dry humping and making out that your neediness increased, and it didn’t help that you could clearly see the way satoru was not only rock hard, but much bigger than average through his grey sweats.

“ooh.. oh shit..” like the invasive pervert he is, satoru moves even closer to the point where your thighs rest on his muscular shoulders before taking two fingers to spread your lips apart. this way, he has a clear view of the place that needs him most, and it makes a furious blush blossom on your cheeks.

“s— satoru.. what are you doing?” now you felt like the virgin, desperately attempting to shut your legs with no avail. damn this big idiot and his strength.

suddenly, his piercing eyes snap up to you, a feral look in his gaze. “shit, how’m i gonna fit in this little hole?”

you can’t deny the way his dirty words does something to you — not that you’d ever admit it. “that’s why you gotta prep me, toru. y’know..” you gulp, “fingering, or like.. eating me out.”

in response, you get a cheshire grin. “sounds fun. show me how you do it, sweets.”

“w-what?”

satoru leans back, attemping to hold in a mischievous smile. “how else am i gonna learn?”

even masturbating alone makes you flush in slight embarassment, so doing it in front of someone else — your cheeky, shamleess boyfriend no less — had you drowning in nerves. the bigger problem was that his words held a strong point; you’re supposed to be teaching him for his first time and ensuring it’s as enjoyable as possible.

these reminders make you mumble out a gentle fine, breath stuttering as you spread your legs further for the man in front of you.

satoru is now resting his weight on the palms of his hands, looking laid back and relaxed, but evidently still focused at the way your fingers move to unclasp your bra with skill. “damn..” as your tits are freed, he finds himself needing to adjust his sweatpants and nearly letting out a pathetic noise you would definitely tease him for.

you gulp, trying to ignore his blatant gawking. “it’s good to.. y’know, tease a bit before getting straight to it. makes it feel better — for me, at least,” you explain while massaging your chest, hiding surprise at the way he sternly nods in understanding.

now that you think about it, something tells you this is the most focused satoru has ever been in a learning environment.

after a bit more pinching and fondling, your hands slide down to your stomach and thighs, trying to get your breathing to relax. having gojo watch you do something so private was.. surreal, but you know for a fact you’ve never been this wet before, if that meant anything.

once you finally move down to your most intimate part, satoru takes a deep breath. he watches as you use your fingers to reveal a small bundle of nerves, pulsing and desperate for attention. “this is the clit, toru. s’very important.”

his eyes light up. “oh, i know that one!” he announces proudly, “i remember suguru saying i have to.. uh, worship it or something.”

you snicker at the thought of geto giving out sex pointers. “mhm, sometimes penetration isn’t enough, so you need to give it attention or i can’t really finish.”

gently, you start massaging the bud in circles, humming at the feeling of finally getting some type of relief. you move down to your hole to collect some of your wetness before bringing it back up, letting out a moan in satisfaction.

the way satoru licks his lips as you finally plunge a finger into your wetness has you shivering, but you remind yourself that for now, this was simply a demonstration and that you’d get a taste of him later.

after adding another, you attempt to reach your sweet spot by curling upwards, but it seems that even your hopelessly inexperienced boyfriend could tell that it was getting nowhere.

“aw,” he pouts teasingly, “lil’ fingers can’t reach anything, huh?”

“shut— shut up, satoru.”

before you know it, he’s moved onto his stomach again, face to face with your pussy and gripping your now soaked fingers. “you use these pathetic things when y’masturbate, huh? imagining my dick while having such tiny fingers up your cunt? kinda offended, babe..”

you feel your tummy flip, where did he learn to talk like that?

“do you have to be so vulg—“ you’re cut off by a choking gasp as a warm, wet muscle licks a stripe from your hole all the way to your clit.

“thanks for the lesson. ‘think i got it from here,” is all satoru says before he’s diving in, slurping up as much of your essence as possible before latching his plush lips right onto your poor little clit.

you can’t help but wiggle around at the jump in stimulation, but that only lasts about five seconds before a muscular arm presses you firmly against the mattress, rendering you trapped and unable to escape to his ministrations.

“hey, slow down!” your words are coincidentally yelped out right as he wiggles a much bigger finger into you. it explores your insides eagerly, caressing and feeling up what satoru believes will be his new favourite place.

“wow..” sluuurp, “so warm n’ soft in here..” he happily mumbles against your pussy. the vibrations of his now deeper voice shoot through you like electricity, eliciting another choked whine from your throat.

it felt like he was just toying with you; looking way too content drinking up everything you offered, fluid rushing down his chin and nose pushed firmly against your pelvis to inhale your scent.

suddenly, he’s jabbing his fingertip right into that pocket of sunshine that makes your eyes roll back, a loud whimper leaving your throat before you could stop it. “satoru, right there!” he swiftly seperates from your clit just to mumble out a here? in confirmation, prodding your sweet spot over and over in record breaking speed.

when you nod, he grins smugly, now adding another finger to stretch you further. “mmmph, this is pretty fun. could lie here all night.”

luckily, you barely process his words, much too busy enjoying the best finger-fuck of your life — and this was only his first time, you remember, what will the bastard do to you once he’s got some practice in?

a shaking hand tumbles into his snowy locks, attempting to pull him back weakly. “wait, m’gonna cum, toru—“

gojo growls almost animalistically, tugging your hand back onto the sheets. “then fuckin’ do it,” he demands. “c’mon, i’ve earned it, right?” then, he sucks even harder, fingers slamming and curling and making the loudest squelch you’ve ever heard.

“see?” he continues, “lil’ cunt wants to cum so bad for me. knows who 'er owner is already.” his filthy words definitely take part in the way your orgasm hits like a train, body shaking and toes curling as you let the feeling of bliss take over you. you flinch at how swiftly his tongue licks up everything you give him, the fingers in his hair tugging harder in overstimulation.

“toruuuuu..”

he simpers, tasting his cum-covered lips. “yeeees?”

“this— this is your first time, i should be making you feel good.”

slowly but surely, your eyes reopen, meeting your boyfriend’s relaxed gaze as he rubs your thigh affectionately. “dunno what you’re talking about, i felt pretty good just now.” when you only pout further, he snickers, pushing some of his bangs back smoothly. “c’mon, there’s lots of time for you to get me off later. m’ too excited for the main event..”

at last, he reaches for his sweatpants, more than excited to tug them down and finally give his aching cock some freedom. satoru doesn’t think he’s ever had a more painful boner in his life, but it was all worth seeing you release all over his tongue and fingers.

right as he finishes untying the knot, pale fingers drifting up to the waistband, you’re smacking him away to make room for your own hands. he watches with an open mouth as you pull his boxers down along with his pants, leaky, hard cock springing free and nearly hitting you in the face.

shit, of course his dick is perfect too. with a bit of white hair at the base, bulging veins adorned the entirety of his massive length, and the tip — shit, the tip was even bigger than the rest, mushroom shaped and angry red. his balls looked equally agitated and full — the epitome of breeder balls, and you gulped at the thought of him filling you up with everything they had.

now his question from earlier made sense, and he seems to be enjoying the realization on your face from his spot kneeling on the bed. “like what’cha see?” he coos, one big hand lowering to relieve the aching in his balls.

“toru, i don’t know if you’ll even fit. why— why do you have to be so big?” it’s annoying, you want to say — but the white-haired man has already laid back and manhandled you onto his chiseled stomach, a yelp escaping you at his suddenness.

he’s smiling so hard at your little dilemma that it’s almost sick, hands resting behind his head cockily. “tell me more while you ride me, baby.”

after processing that all you’ve been doing is feeding his size kink and inflating his already massive ego, you frown. “i’m serious, toru!”

“what!? i’m serious too!” the man defends with fake innocence, blue eyes shining in glee. “you’re the expert here, remember? ‘supposed to be teaching me how it’s done.”

all you do is grumble whilst moving down to sit between the sorcerer’s thighs, lightly prepping him with your fist and a dribble of spit from your mouth that has the white-haired male biting his lip. “fuck..” satoru can’t recall how many times he’s masturbated to the mental image of this exact moment, but now that it was finally happening, he promised himself to savor it as much as possible.

when you move to finally straddle him, hole hovering just above his length, he begins bucking his hips up desperately. “hurryyy…”

“are you in heat or something?” you snort, giving him a dirty glare as if you weren’t about to let him inside you.

“for you? yeah.” satoru offers you a cheesy wink and grin that dissipates the second your warmth encloses his aching tip. his hands slowly move up to grip your waist, jaw clenching in an attempt to not slam you down to his balls right then.

“ngh… fuuuck, baby,” he groans as you ever so carefully move down another inch. “jesus.. you’re sooo damn tight. dunno’ how you’re even taking me..”

you squeeze your eyes shut in attempt to bare the discomfort for him, a slight crease growing between your brows. “satoru, fuck— hurts..” he immediately reopens his eyes in worry, searching for a way to take your pain away.

yes, he could already tell that he enjoyed being meaner with you in bed — but it’s never fun if you don’t feel good as well. though he luckily recalls your lesson from earlier, moving a soft thumb down to massage your clit in tight circles.

when you jolt and nearly faceplant into his neck, he only grins proudly, now using one veiny hand to help push you further onto him. “theeere we go.. aw, feel better?”

“mhm, feels full..” you mumble back, looking down to see that you — unbelievably — still had a couple inches to go.

satoru feels like he’s about to burst on the other hand, thriving in pure ecstasy at the feeling of your walls massaging him just perfectly. he can’t help but thrust up and force his last inches inside you, an echoing smack! of skin against skin singing through the room and eliciting a startled yelp from your throat.

“toru!” despite your scolding, you can’t deny the perfection in which his tip kissed your g-spot effortlessly. his hands felt ever so soothing, comfortingly running up and down as you sat impaled on his cock, wiggling around to get comfortable and ruining him in the process.

just as you start to adjust, you feel yourself being lifted up. “m’ sorry sweets..” gojo suddenly voices, “i can’t..”

“huh? what do you m��ah!” you’re flipped onto your back before you know it, knees resting on the shoulders of your boyfriend who has a gleam in his pupils that you’ve quite frankly never seen before; he looked feral.

satoru carefully pulls out until only his tip is encased in your warmth, and everything is calm for a moment. you both take a deep breath, and he smiles down at your already fucked-out face with pride. “satoru—“

then he’s pushing back in with all the strength his massive hips can produce, and you think if it weren’t for his hands wrapped around your thighs, you would’ve got pushed off the bed entirely. you unintentionally let out the loudest sound of the night, and this sets him off.

now he was getting brutal, bullying your cunt with hit after hit against the spot that has drool dripping down your cheek and eyes crossing. you can’t even stop the pathetic noises and symphonies of right there! that leave your lips, no matter how hot your cheeks flush in embarrassment. it felt as though every time his dick jabbed back in he was right up in your tummy, veins pulsing and ensuring your pussy is molded to the perfect sleeve for him.

“toru, shit— nghh, faster, please! feels s’good!”

“nghh, toru, faster! ahaha..” he mocks you — of course he does, but picks up the pace nonetheless — now holding your lower body up so that your knees dangle higher over his shoulders and each stroke is angled exactly where you want him. “so cute when you’re gettin’ stuffed full, baby.”

he leers as you send him the harshest expression you can manage, reaching down for your clit and giggling as you start squirming in an attempt to escape the overwhelming pleasure. this bastard is having way too much fun, you realize, moans being forced out of you almost tauntingly.

tonight you discover that satoru’s way of fucking is rather animalistic, frantic, thrilling, and with the sole purpose of making you both feel as good as possible. if you want him to go slow or make love to you, you’d probably have to ask beforehand — or perhaps tie him up so you could have your fun in peace.

if your insides weren’t being rearranged, you’d grin at the thought of your boyfriend restrained and at your mercy. another night, you promise yourself.

“tightest pussy ever f’my first time baby.. haah.. can’t believe i’ve been missin’ out on this.” for once, something praising comes out of his big mouth, breathes getting cut short every time you involuntarily squeeze him harder. he swears there’s no better feeling then what you were giving him right now, not even singlehandedly resurrecting himself using the reversed curse technique.

and while no injuries have ever left a scar on gojo satoru, he decides that the claw marks you’re ruthlessly digging into his back will stay as long as his body allows — why should he hide how good he’s made you feel despite being a virgin an hour prior?

maybe if he’s in the mood to brag, he’ll show them to suguru later.

“feels good toru, fuckin’ me so good,” you feel the way his whole body reacts to your praises, a deep growl melting from his lips as the sounds of skin slapping increasingly grows in volume.

“babyyy,” he pants, legs being held higher while he digs deeper into your guts, “m’gonna cum.. need you to cum with me.“ the twitching of his length inside you gave away the fact that gojo has practically been on the edge ever since he pushed into you — and while he knows it’s completely normal to cum prematurely on your first time, when has he ever not gone above expectations?

in a split second you’re flipped onto your hands and knees, veiny hands pushing you into a deep arch while your boyfriend gives his body a moment to relax, pinching his base (a rather perverted method he’s learned by edging himself while masturbating) between his thumb and pointer.

when you needily wiggle your hips in an attempt to find his cock again, he grins boyishly. “lookin’ for this?” he sings the words right before plunging his entire length back into you, abusing your g-spot while a lanky finger impressively finds the bud between your legs right away (a skill that most ‘experienced’ men you’ve previously been with fail to achieve), circling and pinching in a frantic attempt to make your orgasms arrive in sync.

“fucking hell.." you whine, the new angle making his tip bump against spots that have never been rubbed before. “can feel you so deep..”

“oh yeah?” his bicep pulls you up so your head rests on his broad shoulder, now victim to the filth being whispered directly into your ear. “m’ i doing good? fuckin’ this lil’ pussy nice and deep like she needs?”

when you nod, he beams like a maniac, seemingly encouraged to pound you even harder as his hips pick up the pace. “damn, ‘think i’m already a pro at this, huh?”

for the sake of your sanity, you ignore his bragging. “toru, don’t stop. i’m— i’m gonna..”

“you’re gonnaaa?” he derides, kissing the corner of your lip sweetly. “tell me, baby.”

“gonna cum for you, please.” satoru almost decides to fill you up at those words, but his self control is just a bit stronger. he feels the way your cunt is pulsing, body practically shaking as you get closer and closer to release, and he’s determined to help you reach it.

his thrusts get a bit sloppier, and you’re too busy basking in your own pleasure to see the eye-candy that is gojo biting his swollen lips, sweat dripping down his temples all the way to his solid abs, snowy bangs a tad bit moist against his forehead. he looked like the definition of temptation; straight out of a wet dream with stamina that seemingly never declined.

“me too, baby. c’mon, cum on this dick. s’all yours to ruin.”

you moan as you allow yourself to let go, toes curling and nails digging into his toned forearms ecstatically. “thaaat’s it, good girl.. ahah.. such a good girl f’me.” he talks you through it as if he’s done so a million times, both of you looking down to watch your release coat his dick and the crumpled sheets below.

at his praise, you squeeze him just a bit tighter, making his lips curl up in interest. “my girl likes being praised, huh? yeah.. doing so good makin’ a mess on me..”

he pulls out, carefully lowering you to the mattress before tugging on his dick in hopes of reaching his own peak. satoru forces himself to open his eyes just enough to admire the view of you fucked out below him, body shaking slightly as you recover from the intense waves of your orgasm.

“y/n,” he abruptly whines, patting your shoulder with a subtle urgency in his voice.

“..mhmm?”

“where can i cum? quick baby— please, i’ve been holding this for way too long—“ this has your body moving, eyes popping open as you swiftly bend down so your mouth hovers directly in front of him.

you replace his fist with yours as soft lips move to suckle harsly on his leaking tip, and now it’s gojo who has his eyes rolling back; whimpers flying out of his throat every time your tongue massages the delicate underside, sending visible shocks through his body. “fuck!” he can only curse and run his fingers through your hair for support while you pump him dry. “just like that, good.. haah.. good fuckin’ girl, shiiit.”

you’ve never seen your boyfriend — the strongest — look so pathetic and desperate, but it only spurs you on further, enjoying the way he continues to blabber about how pretty you are and how he’s gonna fill your mouth like he would your pussy. in response, you greedily hum around him, licking through his slit as if you were pleading the little hole to give you what you deserved.

and only moments later, satoru’s words become reality; though he attempts to keep revelling in the feeling of your warm lips and hands, his body stills in place instinctively, one last warning tumbling out of his throat as your mouth is flooded with rope after rope of bitterly sweet fluid.

it seems like your accusations about his breeder balls were correct, because once it starts it seemingly never ends; cum now overflowing from the corners of your lips as you struggle to swallow frequently enough to not choke on how much he deposits.

meanwhile, gojo feels like he is quite literally ascending, everything becoming unimportant next to you and the feeling of pleasure being forced through him like an overwhelming earthquake, pulse after pulse as you suck him for all he’s worth.

“thas’ right.. take every damn drop, baby.” when satoru looks down and earns a glimpse of the white fluid trickling down your chin, his dick twitches in your mouth. “god, you’re so sexy..”

once he was done, you both flop onto the bed in exhaustion, and while the vulnerable moment has utmost potential to become something cute and memorable, a certain blue-eyed bastard decides to open his mouth once again.

“what’re you huffin’ and puffin’ for?” he sasses, shamelessly eyeing the way your tits rose and fell with every breath you took. “all you did was lie there while i had a full body workout!”

you take a very deep breath. “i just let you put your dick inside me. shut the fuck up.”

at your reminder of what’d just occurred, he grins like an idiot. “you’re right, thank you.” they’re soft, but he ensures his words are as audible and genuine as he can make them.

satoru isn’t exactly the best with words, but he knows damn well that — despite all the bullshit he'd spouted at those parties — you’re the only person he wanted to have his first time with, and the fact that you allowed his wish to become reality is something he’ll forever be grateful for.

“i love you..” you soften. “even if you’re a pillow princess.” you stiffen again.

nothing could stay lovey-dovey with him for too long.

a fake cry is pulled from his lips as you rudely smack his shoulder. “i tried to ride you but you flipped me over after ten seconds!”

“it’s not my fault you're as slow as a fuckin' snail!”

somehow, you both make it to the washroom despite all the banter. just as you bend over in hopes of starting the shower up, a mean spank is delivered to your ass.

when you turn to meet the culprit, he only narrows his eyes at you playfully. “round two, m’lady?” it’s almost like his voice lowers on purpose, dirty words rumbling in his throat, knowing what it did to your body.

you do your best to send him a disappointed glance anyway. “day one of not being a virgin and you’re already the horniest man i know.”

after following you inside, his fluffy hair flattens from the steamy water before nudging you back, encasing you between him and the solid wall.

“i might be willing to overlook the fact that you know other horny men if you agree to some very loving, extremely intimate making out,” he requests with a smirk, sleek nose poking yours in a much gentler way than expected.

you still send him a distrusting raise of your brow. “only making out, huh?”

the dirty smirk he sends you is all you need to know, along with his hardened dick pressing against your thigh as he moves in to kiss you.

what have you gotten yourself into?

mlist! gojo showing off his back scratches! <- if you enjoy silly virgin gojo pls lmk in the reblogs, comments, or asks <3

© inmaki on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

tags: @gojoallmine @allofffmypeaches @haitaniholic @pandoraium

[churipu]

OUTFIT CHECK 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, iatdori yuuji x reader

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. jjk men being in love with you.

note. i'm back! i managed to fit in writing this in the middle of my midterms, i just finished my qualitative research paper for the midterms and i have 3 more take home exams to do. i hope you like this piece <33

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

you stood in front of the mirror, shifting your body from side to side, eying your reflection from different angles. raising a brow, you heaved out a soft sigh — before eventually twirling to face gojo who had been sitting on the edge of the bed. his icy blue eyes had been gazing at you for as long as you've been standing in front of the mirror against your reflection.

"'toru, do you think i look—"

gojo hushes you, putting a finger onto your lips, shutting you up immediately, "no, you don't look bad, and no your outfit doesn't look weird. you look beautiful," he rattles with a small smile.

"but i just feel like something's wrong with my combination," you said, stepping back to disperse from his finger, "like something's out of place. i just don't know what . . ."

gojo slipped an arm across your shoulder, turning your body to face your reflection, "i don't see anything wrong with your outfit or you, baby — you're really pretty . . . and i look pretty amazing too," he winked cheekily at the mirror, kissing the side of your face.

the male had been sitting on the edge of the bed, paying attention to you analyzing your own outfit for the past fifteen minutes. twirling here and there, stepping backwards and forwards cluelessly. the male didn't see anything wrong with your outfit or you, in fact, you looked absolutely stunning in his point of view.

his comment made you break a small smile.

"is this top too revealing?" you turn your back to the mirror, revealing a slight peek at your fragrant s/c skin.

"baby, baby," he scoffs, "i'm the strongest, i can fight, you know? and you look beautiful in that top, you should wear it often, yeah?" his slender fingers grazes over your exposed skin gently, sending shivers down your spine.

a string of laughter escaped your throat, "i love you, you know that?"

the male leaned in and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, "i love you more. no complaints."

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

"do you think the top suits the bottom?" you asked nanami after changing into your third pants of the day — brows furrowed in frustration as nothing seemed to be clicking.

nanami raised his eyes from the book he had in his grasp, "you look beautiful," he complimented yet again for the third time.

"kento, how am i supposed to pick an outfit when you keep complimenting them all? help me pick one, will you?" nanami didn't understand why you were insistent on the 'mismatched' outfit (at least you think it is).

but in his eyes, everything seemed well-matched. he'd say it's a 11/10 for your ability to match these outfits of yours, "how? you look beautiful in them all."

groaning out, you raise two bags. a black and sage green bag, "pick one."

nanami inspected the two bags and then looked back at your outfit briefly, "the sage green one would fit perfectly with your outfit now," he pointed.

"okay. how about a jacket, do you think i'll need one?" you questioned, rummaging through the closet, "you always have a hunch of what i'd feel, it's your judgement."

he pondered your words for a bit, "take a jacket. forecast said it's going to be cold tonight, i don't want you getting sick."

you chuckled and bobbed your head, "right. anything else i should bring?"

"pepper spray."

"check."

"be careful, yes? call me if anything happens," nanami whispers, standing up from the bed — initially he wanted to come along with you to meet your friends. but he thought that he'd be a bother to you so he stopped himself from asking, "i love you so much."

"i love you more," you kissed his lips, to which he returned.

"let's drop you there, hm?" nanami grabs your hips, giving your flesh a slight squeeze, leading you out of the house.

𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈

"y/n, do you — oh, wow."

yuuji stood, a hand on the handle of the door he just opened and another on the doorway. his jaw dropped at the sight of you, his partner.

you stood in front of a mirror, blinking cluelessly at his reaction. not knowing whether it was his surprise because of how good you looked or the other way around, "yuuji? do i what?"

yuuji blinked himself back into reality, entering the room mutely, his back leaned onto the shut door, "where are you off to?"

shaking your head you gazed back at your reflection, "i'm just mix and matching for a hang out with nobara tomorrow, does this look funny?"

he shook his head harshly, "no, no, you look really nice! really pretty," yuuji honestly said before inhaling, you quite literally took his breath away.

"really? the color suits?" you asked, pinching the shirt you're wearing, "is the pants a bit too short?"

yuuji stood still, "no . . . you — wow, you just look so pretty y/n. i don't know what else to tell you . . ." he whispers, entranced by your figure as he detached his back from the door to approach you.

mustering out a smile, you gave him a hug, "thanks yuuji, you're the best."

he nuzzled his nose into your hair, "you're so beautiful," yuuji mumbled before kissing the crown of your head.

all of a sudden, yuuji pulls back, his face stern and a frown on his face, "how come you're going out with kugisaki and i'm not invited?" he asks you, narrowing his eyes.

"baby, i promise it's just me and her. i'll get you something special on the way back and then we can watch movies? your pick." you pinched his cheeks gently.

"any movies?"

you nod, "any movies."

"okay! deal." yuuji beams out, kissing your cheek.

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