#literally my stomach is flipping out at the thought

[bitegore]

fucking worst thing ever (hyperbole) when you eat a substantial meal at a weird time because you're like grabbing a bite with a friend or something (too early) and then because you're full you don't eat anything really substantial later (habit) and so you wake up the next day ready to like drink the blood of the nearest person (not hyperbole)

[mostly-imagines]

Would your Jason even be into a threesome with his girlfriend? 🤔

mentions of NSFW content below

so i think jay would do literally anything if he thought it would make you happy and the idea of him trying to convince himself that he’d be cool with a threesome is very funny to me. for example:

“What happened to Dick anyway?”

He pushes the front door open, letting you through first. “I think he went home with those two girls.”

You laugh, “That sounds right.”

He looks at you with questioning eyes behind a smile as he closes the door behind him.

You shrug, shaking your head as you continue on to the bedroom, him following close. “I’m under the impression that threesomes aren’t a rare occurrence for Dick.”

He grimaces, “You’re right.”

You busy yourselves with undoing the dress up from the gala, working in harmony.

You unclasp your necklace, placing it on top of your dresser carefully. “Have you ever done that?” you ask absentmindedly as you remove the rest of your accessories.

“No,” he says, like it’s uninteresting.

You smile, looking over your shoulder at him. “What? You’ve never wanted to have sex with two girls?”

He shrugs, “Never did it before, and now I don’t wanna kiss anyone but you.”

You hum to yourself, taking off your heels. You wonder if he knows how much of a romantic he is. He must.

He peels off his suit jacket, taking in your thoughtful expression with deliberation.

“But..” he hesitates, “I mean…if you wanted to, I would.”

You turn around, wordlessly asking him to undo your zipper for you, “Have sex with another girl?”

“No,” he pulls it down, shaking his head. “I’m not touching another girl.”

You slip your dress off and he immediately holds his arm out to you for balance as you step out of it. It’s not until a moment after the fabric hits the ground that you register what he means.

You look up at him, jarred, “You’d have a threesome with another guy?”

He shrugs again, sitting on the bed. “If you wanted to.”

You give him a funny look, smiling through furrowed brows. “What are you talking about? You’d never do that.”

“I…I would be fine with it,” he gets out, though you can’t quite tell if he’s trying to convince you or himself.

You tilt your head knowingly, “You would?”

He frowns, nodding. “Yeah.”

You plop down next to him, closer than you needed to. “You’d be fine with someone else touching me in front of you?” you ask, faux-awed.

He says nothing, only shifts in his seat and shrugs slightly.

You sit up on your heels, smiling to yourself as he struggles to maintain eye contact. “You’d be okay with some other guy taking my clothes off and kissing me?”

He looks genuinely sick at that which amuses you greatly.

You take his face in your hands, pulling him to look at you, “No, but it’s okay if he fucks me?”

“Alright, enough,” he rolls his eyes, grabbing your wrists to hold you still. “Fine. I don’t want anybody else to touch you, s’that what you wanted to hear?”

You nod, pleased.

His eyes dart across your face, taking in every detail with a heavy gaze. “Don’t want anybody else to look at you like that, they don’t deserve it.”

He pulls you in closer, head lowering to place kisses across the side of your neck. “You’re my girl, my beautiful girl,” he says, brushing your hair back. “No…don’t need anybody going near my pretty girl.”

He flips you around, laying you nicely on the bed underneath him. He leaves a line of open mouthed kisses down your stomach and thumbs at the band of your underwear as he looks up at you, “But what do you think, hm? You need somebody else to take care of you?”

You shake your head as you comb through his hair, “Mm-mm,” you smile at him, “Jus’ need you, Jay.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your inner thigh before pulling your underwear down your legs.

[mimasroom2]

Rouge est perdue (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Roommate!Ellie who is a perv😝

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

I remember somebody writing something like this but I’ve no idea who ˙◠˙. This is literally a complete 180 from my previous fic LMAO😭 it’s been over a year since I’ve written just pure smut,, idk if this is good or not but whatever.

C/w: FILTHY smut. Porn w a bit of plot. No use of Y/N. Fingering (both receiving). Pillow humping. dom!reader & sub!ellie. Kinda loser!ellie? Ellie is a perv but still needs consent >•<. Squirting😇.

W/c: 2.7k

~ 𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

“Heyyy Ellie? This is gonna sound weird,,, but like,, do you know where any of my underwear is?”

You feel so fucking weird asking your roommate this question. After all, it’s just so embarrassing, and you’ve looked EVERYWHERE. If you didn’t know where it is… she definitely didn’t. I mean, the dryer eats up your socks all the time. Probably happens to Ellie too. Surely you’re not the only one with garments missing.

Ellie shifts a little on her feet, “What do ya mean?” She looks at you with those damn puppy dog eyes she loves to use, and you swear you’re not crazy when your stomach does the flip thing.

You try not to look her in the eye, “Not really bras but more like… panties?”

“Ohhh okay. Ya I understand. Oh but no- haven’t seen any that aren’t mine.” She says nonchalantly while walking away.

You blink at her, “Oh! well thanks anyway.” You shrug your shoulders as you walk back into your room.

~

She had promised herself only a couple pairs. Maximum 3. She tried to be smart about it - she’d take one pair of each kind you had. That way it wouldn’t look so suspicious, instead of only your pretty Victoria’s Secret thongs going missing. One pair of briefs, one pair of bikinis,,, and of course her favorite thong of yours.

This whole… obsession… we can say, started on the second day the two moved in together. You two were sitting on the couch after you’d spent way too long lugging it inside together. You were texting your friends on your phone as she turned on the tv to some dinosaur channel. Ellie couldn’t stop sneaking glances of you - your body and what you were wearing. She flashed her eyes down and saw this absolutely gorgeous pair of red panties peek out from under your leggings. Seeing you in those almost made her drop the remote. Why would you be wearing something like that? Who were you trying to impress?

From what she could tell from rummaging through your things when you moved in yesterday, you were single. In fact, you basically had lay it all out beautifully for her. All your bras, underwear, tights and sex toys were all in the same box. She licked her lips, no girl getting some good head at the moment would need a clit sucking vibrator. It all came together when she casually mentioned her last girlfriend’s around you, and she had to turn away to smile when you mentioned you like girls too.

Now, Ellie had this habit. Whenever you’d go out with your friends or off to work, she’d waltz into her bedroom, lock the door (to be safe), and dig down deep in her underwear drawer until she found your own panties. She carefully had them hidden inside her own boxers, there was basically no way you could ever find them. Not like you would search her room without permission anyway, she knew you. And of course she didn’t really steal them… she was borrowing them. She planned on returning them whenever she felt like it… whenever that might be.

~

Today Ellie went through her usual routine of waiting five minutes after you left, going into her room, and grabbing the red thong. She sighed and bit her lip. It was almost as pretty as you.. silk with soft mesh, see through basically everywhere except for where your pussy would lay. She played with the red bow on top, “This is so fucking stupid.” She thought to herself.

Ellie pressed her lips together, reaching into her shorts and palming herself over her boxers. She sighed immediately, letting out a soft “fuuuckkkk” as her eyes fluttered shut.

She’d been waiting about two weeks since she snagged your thong to fuck herself with it. Yeah, she was really fucking horny for you, but she wanted to draw it out as long as she could.

She hummed to herself, “Mmmmm,, need more..” she sat down on her bed and took her shorts off. She inspected the panties once more, as if she hadn’t done that one hundred times already. Just by feeling them she could tell they were new. Maybe you were feeling confident about your new life you’ve started. New job, new roommate, new panties. She was absent-mindedly rocking her hips back and forth during this, thinking about how you’d look wearing them while laying on her bed.

She finally took off her boxers and dipped her fingers into her pussy. Her mouth opened a little, she was wetter than she thought she’d be. “Mmhh okay,” she sighs, “Thas’ better.” Ellie brought her wet fingers up to her throbbing clit, just touching it, not even rubbing circles like how she desperately needed to. She couldn’t take it and whimpered, pushing her fingers onto herself harder as punishment. She felt her clit fluttering faster each second she held her fingers there.

She suddenly stopped , getting up to grab a pillow. She situated it in between her legs. “Okay..” she sighed, slowly lowering herself onto it. She began rocking her hips back and forth again, knitting her eyebrows together. It felt so much fucking better than humping nothing, especially considering how firm the edge of the pillow was.

She kept going, making her movements faster, but she quickly grew annoyed as her shirt would become tucked underneath herself as she rides the pillow. Grunting, she quickly pulled the shirt off, completely bare and naked except for her black sports bra. She hastily grabbed your red panties and lost her mind humping the pillow. She whimpered and started to let out small, quiet moans as her actions grew more and more desperate.

“Y-yesss.. hah- so good.. fuck me, more pleassssse…” Ellie could feel that familiar tightness at her core start to arise.

~

As you approached the door to your appartement with your huge grocery haul in both hands, you heard the tv playing. You shook your head and smiled to yourself, “Ugh Ellie’s always turning the tv up way too loud.. gonna get noise complaints soon.” You thought.

Quickly stepping inside, you set all the grocery bags down on the counter and walked to the living room to tell Ellie to turn down the tv. However, as soon as you walked in there was no Ellie, only the tv turned up and on some channel you knew Ellie didn’t even watch. You raised an eyebrow but shook it off. She was probably invited somewhere last minute and, knowing Ellie, probably threw something on and ran out the door without turning off any lights or the tv.

You grabbed the remote from off the couch and watched the channel for a few seconds before deciding to click the power off button. The very second you turned off the tv, you weren’t greeted by silence, but by Ellie’s voice doing something you never thought you’d hear: moaning.

Your whole face suddenly grew red, and you felt your stomach drop. Your mind began to race: Holy shit. She’s fucking someone in there. Why is she doing that today. Ohmygod I never said I was going to the store. She probably thought I was going to work and would be out for hours. Fuck. Fuck. Why is she fucking that girl and not me? No- fuck that’s wrong. I can’t think that about my roommate I barley know! Ohmygod I thought that when she said she was single she meant like- she didn’t even do one night stands. Oh fuck me in the fucking ass-

Suddenly, your rapid stream of thoughts were cut off by Ellie moaning your name.

“Mmmhhhmm.. hahhh fuck right there baby. Yes.. yes I’m such a fuckin’ slut for you.” You hear her whine and fucking whimper. Your eyes grew as wide as balloons and you immediately dropped your purse on the couch. You take off your shoes so you’re not as loud, and sneak over to Ellie’s room where her door is closed.

You feel so fucking awkward you don’t know what to do. Maybe you felt a little more horny than awkward however, because suddenly you notice yourself squeezing your thighs together and shifting on your feet.

“Fuck it.” You thought. You reach for the door handle but stop as you go to turn it, second guessing yourself. Is this really right? Well I mean, she’s the one masturbating to you and moaning your name… so…

You turn the handle and slowly open the door. It creaks a little, causing Ellie to jump and freeze in place. The only thing you can manage to say is “Holyyyyy fuck.” Your super fucking hot ass tatted up roommate is riding her own pillow with your own red thong in hand moaning your own name. You feel like you can’t even breathe.

“Ohmygod wait-“ Ellie starts, trying her best to hunch over and cover herself with the pillow, “Okay fuck I’m really sorry I didn’t even think you’d be home fuckingfuckmegoddammit I even turned on the tv super loud so no one would hear me and if I heard it turn off I would know you came back but ohmyfuckinggod I didn’t hear it go silent imsofuckingsorry-“

You cut off her rambling of explanations and apologies, “Heyyyy, Ellie…?” You slowly take off your jacket and shirt, trying your very best to be sensual, but this was never your forte. “You didn’t finish… right?” You slowly look up at her.

“Wha-? What? Why are you asking me-“

“You didn’t answer me.” You interrupt her. Your eyes become half lidded as you feel yourself becoming more confident. “Did you finish? Yes or no, Els.”

Ellie suddenly blushes at the nickname, “No.” she whispers with wide eyes, looking right at you.

“Let me help you then.”

“Fuck- please.”

That’s all the consent you need before you practically leap onto her, kissing her ravenously. The kiss quickly becomes sloppy and desperate, you pull away quickly to get some air, “Fuck. Been wanting to do that since I moved in.” Without letting Ellie respond, you latch yourself onto her neck, kissing and taking in her scent that you love so much.

“Mmmph- please…” She whimpers, quite pathetically. “Can’t wait baby..”

You smile at the pet name, kissing her deeply again as your hands explore her toned body.

You swear it’s only ten seconds more and she breaks away, whispering “I-I need you.”

“Oh I fucking know.”

Ellie watches you, eyes unfaltering as you plant kisses down her chest, toned abs, all the way down to her pussy.

Without warning, you start sliding a finger in, “Wanna see how loose you are.” You mutter to yourself. You don’t know why you’re even shocked when you easily push inside of her, deciding to slip another finger in.

Ellie moans immediately, grinding her hips rapidly down onto your hand. She throws her head back and her moans become louder, quicker. Suddenly, something red to the right of Ellie catches your eye as you’re finger fucking her. You were so tunnel visioned, ready to fuck her, that you completely forgot about your missing panties. The panties that she stole. You keep your eyes locked on your underwear as you speed up, as Ellie starts whining, basically crying about how she’s “Gonna cum soon.”

You can feel her g-spot so easily.

“Yeah? You’re gonna fucking tell me you took it or you’re not gonna cum. Use your words.” You instruct, never slowing down your pace.

Ellie gasps, she can’t even pretend she doesn’t know what you’re talking about, “Yeah. Y-Yes I fucking took it. Mmm- wanted to see… needed you so bad.. aaaaahh..” she stammers out and you never stopped fucking her desperate little pussy, occasionally moaning in response to what she tried to say.

Finally getting the confession you needed, you curled your fingers up inside of her. “Fuck- I’m gonna cum I’m gonna cum.. gonnacumbabyyy……”

“Cum for me, Ellie.”

She finally does, finally gets to cum after everything that’s happened. She gasps rapidly.

You talk her through her orgasm, saying things like, “That’s it Ellie.” “God you’re so fucking beautiful.”

As soon as she was done squirming, Ellie grabs your face and kisses you deeply. She sits the two of your up and slides her knee in between your thighs. You were so turned on, you swear you could cum just from doing this. It seems as though Ellie understood exactly what you wanted, because she swiftly flips you over onto your back and starts unbuttoning your pants.

You laugh, suddenly getting an idea, “Wait, wait. Turn around and cover your eyes, Els.”

She’s skeptical, raising an eyebrow but complies anyway. After all, you just gave her the best orgasm she’s probably ever had. She hears shuffling for a few seconds, and the zipper of your pants coming undone as you drop them to the floor.

“Tadaaaa!” You exclaim, signaling to Ellie that it’s okay if she turns around.

You swear Ellie’s eyes have never been wider as she sees you wearing nothing but that damn red thong.

She almost drools, “Holyyyyy shiiiitttttt..” and slowly walks over to you, grabbing your waist with her sexy ass hands. “Even better than I was imagining.. need to fuck you right now okay..?” She mutters, mostly to herself, as she’s still too distracted feeling up how the red silk hugs your body.

“Been ready for so long, Els.” You say as you crawl back onto the bed, trying to break her out of her spell.

Ellie climbs on top of you and plays with your nipples, kissing and biting your neck at the same time. You whimper - that’s definitely going to leave marks in the morning. Only after a few seconds her hands leave your chest, moving lower to peel away the red fabric and reveal your dripping pussy.

She gasps, staring for a few moments at how beautiful you are. “Fuck, so so pretty.” She cracks her knuckles, “God, you’re already so wet for me… I’m gonna stretch you out baby, lemme know if you hurt ‘mkay?”

You whine in response, feeling the butterflies in your stomach erupt as she effortlessly slides two fingers in. You gasp as she starts moving, then slowly picking up the pace until she’s basically slamming into your g-spot.

“Ohhh.. f-fuck me.”

Ellie pants as she pumps her gorgeous fingers in and out of you, “That’s jus’ what I’m doin’ baby.” She smirks. Suddenly, she adds one more finger and brings her thumb up to rub your clit, and you almost scream.

It only takes a little more and you’re already on edge. She can feel you clenching around her. You’re so close. She hisses sharply, sucking in the air through her teeth as you take her, “Fuck, see my tattoo moving as I fuck you hon?” She pants, “Doin’ so good for me like this.”

“I- I think I’m gonna cum soon..” You whimper and your legs start shaking. “Ahh,, fuck Ellie-!!”

“Go on baby, you can cum.”

With just that little bit of motivation, you finally have the orgasm you’ve so desperately wanted. It’s so intense as she keeps fucking you senseless, you feel yourself squirt, which almost never happens, the warm fluid surprising you. You cover your face with your hands, so embarrassed that your body is doing this for Ellie. She hushes you, letting you know it’s okay.

You know you’re finally done when you throw your head back, trying to catch your breath. Ellie flops down beside you, smiling at you and waiting for the right time to say something.

“So, wanna like… be my girlfriend now?” She says, absolutely way too nonchalantly.

You look at her and laugh, slapping her arm playfully, “You literally made me see stars, Ellie! Gimme a second!!”

She throws her hands up in the air. “Sorry, sorry! Just couldn’t wait.” You both giggle.

You turn over on your side, kissing her cute little nose, “Yeah.. yeah that’d be nice.”

You smile and Ellie’s face lights up, she quickly plants fast kisses all over your face. “My hot roommate wants to date me!!” She exclaims. You laugh and she pulls you in closer, hugging her arms around you.

She reaches over to turn off the lamp, and the two of you drift off to sleep.

♡

[hysteria-things]

MY EYES ONLY

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a look into chris’s my eyes only…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: PURE FILTH, p in v, unprotected sex (nuh uh!), swearing, choking, stomach bulge, oral (female & male receiving), praising, degradation, daddy kink, jealousy, squirting, spanking, possessiveness, overstimulation, dumbification, cream pie, semi-public, ROUGH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 888

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: sorry for all the chris stuff lately i’m just so down bad for him but matt will make an appearance (hopefully) soon!

also… the last one will be turned into a fic😉

mattress digging deeper into your back every second, the hand around your throat only tightens. your small palm doesn’t even fit fully around his wrist. moans and pleas of ‘don’t stop!’ aren’t the only sounds echoing off the walls. the headboard bangs rapidly against the wall, a chuckle coming from chris every so often at your fucked-out state.

you two were extra horny this day, it seems, and of course, you had to take advantage of it. the video is taken from your drooling mouth down to the bulge in your stomach, chris quite literally balls deep inside of you. tits bouncing at the rapid pace he’s going, your nails dig deeper into his flesh. “yes! yes! yes!” you scream like a mantra, cum then coating his dick.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

to him, his finger slipped and “accidentally” pressed the post button. it starts casually with the desktop displaying fortnite, then he flips the camera to his face. a smug look is plastered on it before the camera flips again.

this time, it’s of you — under the desk with your boyfriend’s cock stuffed in your mouth. his other hand is wrapped around your locks in a makeshift ponytail, controlling the way you bob your head at a decent rhythm. all you have to do is sit there and take it.

looking at the camera with tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you smile, spit dribbling from the sides of your lips. he pushes your head down further to where the tip of your nose touches his pelvis, a gulp and gag going through his headphones before his face comes into view one last time. chris smiles smugly, with a caption that reads: we’re live! come hang out :)

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

legs draped over his shoulders, your fingers massage lightly at the brunette between your plush thighs. the phone is propped up on the nightstand to make sure your entire body is in view. his tongue laps agonizingly slow on your puffy cunt, but it feels so good.

you’ve been a good girl all week; no attitude, no talking back, good manners, etc. you were in for a reward. this is your reward. he wants to eat you out like no other. until you see stars and that’s it.

soft moans fill the air, eyes fluttering closed and your mind blank. just how chris likes it.

growing closer to your high, you get impatient before rutting your hips forward, your moans growing louder. he hums disapprovingly, leaving your dripping hole empty. “no need to get naughty now, baby. i thought you were a good girl for me?”

“i am.” you whimper. “i’m sorry, daddy.”

thrusting his hips subconsciously into the mattress because of the nickname, he delves back in to suck on your clit. that alone washes the first of many orgasms through you. you end up passing out at the end.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

an argument sparked this beauty, which is also chris’s personal favorite. for context, you guys argued over something stupid before going to a party. because you’re so petty, you decided to purposely talk with a random guy at the function to get chris’s blood boiling. giving him those ‘fuck me’ eyes from across the room.

before you knew it, you were holding on for dear life on a pillow in a random bedroom he dragged you into. the velvet dress you’re wearing is bunched above your ass, and your panties are ripped in half and thrown to the floor. crying out apologies into the blanket is no use, skin stinging with his handprint on it. the video is hard to make out because of how fast the phone is shaking in his hand.

“fucking brat.” he spanks you again, a sob leaving your throat. “you think he can fuck you stupid like this? huh?”

his hand makes contact at least three more times during that sentence, and your body shakes uncontrollably. he already ripped two orgasms out of you. “that’s right. take it just like that — whose pussy is this?”

“yours.” you exhale, squirting without warning from the overwhelming pleasure and penetration.

gripping the top of your hair, he lifts your head. “scream it, slut. they can’t hear you.”

“yours, chris! it’s all yours!” you gasp, knuckles white from your grasp on the sheets.

looking down at the way his cock brutally thrusts in and out of your tight pussy, his jaw slacks at the sight. you clench around him as his tip repeatedly hits your cervix, eyes rolling when you cum harder than ever before.

he arches your back further to get as deep as he can with a grunt. his hips stop, long ropes of cum spilling the farthest it goes into your womb. pulling out, he takes two fingers to help his seed stay inside you, the rest dripping down your legs the rest of the night.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❦ ⋆⁺₊⋆

it’s dark. the photo is barely visible but visible at the same time if you look at it long enough. the table in front of you has a reflection of the moon, your tits that are painted white take up half of the screen. the other half is of your face, a smile peeking through your lip bite. a tatted arm snakes around your neck, the selfie angled up high.

be careful leaving your things behind, chris. the text says.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @asluttttforanakinskywalker @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2 @sturnsjtop @luverboychris @yapperchris @imaslutforoldermen @madisonlovesyouu @poetatorturadaa @chr1sgirl4life @hiimolivia @jo-777 @sturnskiss @st4rgrlll @mattyblover07 @sm-ec @mattluvsmarni @knowingnothingnoel @mattsgirlfrieeend @bambi-slxt @sturnstvr @sturnclouds @bernardsbendystraws @maryx2xx

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook is one of your greatest fears and you’re his achilles’ heel.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, angst / word count: 4.1k

content/warnings: i love you i want us both to eat well T_T sigh. oc has abandonment issues pls protect at all costs + oc is worried bc jk is working so hard :( + a worm (???) cameo. ily protective and hopeless romantic iw!jk <3 the ending 🥲💔 this drabble literally goes 📈📉

> in which masterlist!

note: *insert my melody mugshot scene* me if planting puzzle pieces in my drabbles + making oc cry (IM SORRY) were a crime. this was sm fun writing <3 i cried and laughed they’re so precious </3

—

“jungkook, baby?”

your silky voice fills the quiet apartment as you pad across the floor. you’re carrying your heeled mary janes by its straps, leaving you only in your white socks.

“babe?”

you frown as the seconds pass and you receive no response from your lover. there’s no music playing, no rustling somewhere in the kitchen or the living room. the lights are dim like they usually are, but the vivid colors are absent.

him? asleep at 9pm? jeon jungkook? it can’t be, but you’d be delighted to finally see him resting early if it was real.

and so, spurred by that tiny glimmer of hope, you carefully crack the bedroom door open, as if you’re fifteen again and you just came back from sneaking out of the house.

but you’re grown now; you live in a building with complete strangers for neighbors. you just got home from work, and you’re no longer used to sleeping alone because you share the bed with another person.

you find it empty. devoid of any creases, sign of life. as neat as a hotel room’s make believe that no one lived there until two hours prior.

the disappointment weighs down on your shoulders, causing them to drop.

he didn’t tell you he was going somewhere else after practice, you think to yourself as your lips permanently shape into a pout. what happened to going out with you for dinner?

agreeing, your empty stomach grumbles angrily.

maybe he got caught up at work. maybe he’s on his way home. maybe he’s on his way to the restaurant and he’s about to text you to come over. maybe he forgot about your plans and he’s having dinner with somebody else.

whatever the reason is, you’re too lazy and tired to whip up something edible on your own. with or without him, you’re going out and you’re stuffing your mouth full with rice and meat. after all, autumn is here, your dear old friend.

in search for a coat that will accompany you in your late-night stroll, you enter the walk-in closet and flip on the lightswitch.

you can count them with just your fingers— the amount of times you’ve felt this type of fear. absent eyes, melting spine, chills running to the top of your head down to your fingertips, mind racing with an overload of thoughts (it appears as a blank page, the same way that white is the presence of all colors of visible light). this fear… you associate it with impulsive mistakes, fire, police and ambulance sirens, and… empty closets.

jungkook’s side of the closet is empty.

clothes. shoes. bucket hats. beanies. belts. everything. gone.

but the floor is scattered with random pieces of clothing that look like they accidentally fell while someone was in a rush to pack them all in a bag. so in a rush that they didn’t even bother to pick them up.

your weak knees almost give way, but you force yourself to stumble backwards until your back hits the doorframe— you refuse to let yourself look like you’ve been carelessly discarded too.

not again. not again. not this goddamn vicious curse you thought you’ve already broken out of. not. again.

you blink away the tears threatening to spill as you scramble to open the zipper of your bag, but they spill anyway when your shoes clatter to the floor. you flinch at the thunderous sound, clutching your phone tightly against your chest. you keep your eyes closed throughout the defeaning silence that comes after.

the empty space mocks you. it knows your intricate design was not meant to live in an empty home.

you guess nothing much has changed. you’re still afraid of jungkook and his power to take away the sun, just as he did before, and you deeply despise being afraid. you don’t like it when the walls are closing in on you, poisoning your mind into believing that you’re small when the heart inside your chest burns with a fire brighter than that of the damn sun.

anyone would be foolish to leave you; it’s only jungkook who could have you mourning the death of the garden you’ve given the past five years of your life to.

—

jungkook returns to the apartment half an hour later. despite the long, grueling hours of dance practice he nearly didn’t survive, the excitement vibrating through his body is manifested through the lightness of his movements. he’s finally seeing his lover for the first time today… awake.

when he brought his natural body warmth along with him to the bathroom this morning, you sunk yourself further into mattress, beneath the thick blankets and against the soft pillows. by the time he had to give you your obligatory goodbye kiss before he leaves for work (or else you’d sulk about it for the rest of the week), half of your face has been hidden from sight. he was only able to press a loving kiss on your forehead, and then your eyelids that were fluttering as you dreamt.

night time comes and he is still deprived of the sight of your beautiful face? he somberly wonders as he finds you slumped over the dining table; he swears that there is a dark rain cloud hovering above you. your arms are thrown over the hardwood as they serve as a makeshift pillow for your vessel— his little firefly curiously bleak.

“baby? are you sick?” he asks, voice dripping with concern as he tenderly rubs your back.

the legs of the chair screeches against the tiled floor, neglectedly pushed behind.

“kook?” you manage to choke out, frantically sitting up once your muddled brain registered the familiarity of his touch on your bare skin.

his heart drops to his stomach as your tear-stained face comes into view. this isn’t how he envisioned your greeting; it usually came in the form of a bright light not harsh as the sunlight, a softness that begs to be held.

“are you crying?!”

your reply only comes out as a pitiful whimper. he stumbles a step backwards when you unceremoniously jump into his embrace, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. he gets a whiff of your sweet perfume, and then it becomes the air that he breathes, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it.

“baby!”

he squeezes your waist taut against his body, affectionately nosing at your cheek before giving you a kiss. “did something happen? tell me- tell me.”

“jungkook,” your voice cracks as you utter his name, sounding almost like a plea, and then an endless string of heartbreaking sobs comes out muffled against his shirt. “where have you been?”

this sends him into a state of panic. seeing you in pain— it’s his biggest weakness. after all, you are his achilles’ heel.

“why? why, why, why?” you’re weak and pliant as he pulls your arms down, collapsing against his chest when he envelopes you in his embrace. he cradles your head in his palm, soothing you with gentle pats and shushes. “shh, shhh- it’s okay, i’m here now. everything’s okay, you hear me?”

his efforts prove to be fruitless, because you only seem to cry harder as he slowly rocks your bodies back and forth.

you shake your head, hands attempting to hold on to the back of his shirt to regain sensation in your limbs, but they miserably fail and fall on the sides of his hips.

“talk to me… please, mhmm?“ he hums quietly, pressing his soft lips to your temple. “tell me what’s wrong and your boyfriend will take care of it.”

from your sniffles to your hiccups, you remain unable to form any coherent response, and it leads his imagination to construct the worst possible scenarios. he feels his stomach turn with uneasiness, jaw clenching as he carefully pulls away to meet you eye-to-eye.

“did someone touch you? hurt you?” he spits out with urgency, and the unparalleled care he displays puts you in a daze, simply dumbfounded as he strokes your face. “huh, baby? just tell me and i’ll take care of the rest.”

now that you’re being reminded that jungkook could quite literally kill a person with his bare hands if they ever inflict harm on you, the fog is clearing up and you feel so incredibly… stupid.

but that’s more the reason why it’s difficult not to be sensitive when it comes to him; his absence proves to be lethal.

“shit, you’re scaring me.” he breathes out shakily as he taps your cheek lightly to bring you back to him, the distant look in your eyes triggering the emergency alarms in his head.

he unconsciously licks his lips and he tastes your tears; he doesn’t want anybody else to ever come this close.

“okay, okay- let’s put that aside for now. what do you need? should we go to bed and rest instead?”

“i thought you left,” you whisper as you hang your head in shame.

he blinks at you in confusion. “to where? my flight isn’t until next week, baby.”

fantastic! now you sound like the most dramatic, clingiest bitch to ever grace the planet. you bury your face in your hands to hide the battle zone between your heart and mind, but your boyfriend seizes your wrists because he can’t bear another second of it.

“is-is that why you’re upset…?” he asks with not a trace of malice or ridicule. he is only filled with guilt as it dawns on him then— how you’ve only gotten used to always having him around four years into your relationship, when he was taking a break from work.

the changes in his life are also changes in yours, but they still affect you in many different ways.

“then just come with me. i’ll make it work. maybe we can extend for a bit, spend an entire day by ourselves- there’s a lot of museu-”

“i thought you left,” you repeat yourself, exposed and vulnerable, vision swallowed by the darkness because you can’t make yourself look at him. “your clothes… they’re gone, and i was calling but you… you weren’t answering my calls so i thought…”

“my clothes?” he exclaims, eyes going wide as he realizes that they’ve accidentally slipped from his mind. “ahh, i thought about cleaning the closet while waiting for you so i moved everything to the other room!”

you open your mouth to speak, but much to your chagrin, no words come out. you purse your lips as your chin wobbles— the new wave of tears in your eyes mimic shiny crystals.

“____!”

and at the stern mention of your name, you know that you’re about to receive a (loving) scolding from your boyfriend. your lips curve into a frown before a sob inevitably escapes past them.

“why would you think that? why would i leave you? that doesn’t make sense at all, does it…?”

you shake your head, hugging him so tight, possibly tighter than you’ve ever done before. between your bodies, his heart is being unbearably wrung.

“i’m sorry, baby. seeing you cry like this breaks my heart…” he closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, resting his cheek on the side of your head. “but why would that be the first thing you think of…? i must be doing something wrong, right? have i been too busy with work? am i neglecting you?”

you’re breathless, a little dizzy— bloodshot eyes meeting his that are now gleaming with sadness. “no, it’s not like that! i just panicked, i couldn’t think straight.”

“are you sure?”

he looks at you skeptically, scanning your face.

“baby-” his voice breaks, then he pauses with his gaze still trained on you. “okay, i’m sorry. i… should’ve thought about what cleaning the closet would look like.”

“i was just being stupid.” you give him a small smile, rubbing your eyes to chase away the burning sensation. “sorry for scaring you.”

“stop, you’ll hurt yourself.” he tuts, pushing your wrists aside to cup your face in his hands, much gentler in comparison to your own self. his thumbs draw shapes on your soft skin, and then out of the blue, he curiously squeezes one of the space buns on top of your head. “wow, this is so pretty?”

“huh…? oh, thanks.” you mumble, still feeling out of it.

“this, too.” the white silk ribbon wrapped prettily around your neck, he means, which he hooks a finger on to tug lightly. it matches the lace straps on your shoulders that falls across the underbust of your dress, tied together to form a ribbon in the middle of it. that makes two, so clasically you.

and while it may be partly true that he’s trying to lighten the atmosphere, he just can’t defy the urge to express his admiration for you, even in a situation like this. he’s perpetually love-drunk.

“thank you.” you nod, shyly looking away to sniffle. “but you’re the reason why my makeup is ruined… need to wash it off before we go.”

“you’re beautiful either way, baby.”

“i know.” you scoff. “would you date me for five years if i wasn’t?”

he releases a throaty chuckle, capturing your lips in his with a smile of endearment that he fails to subdue.

“you’re so fucking cute. i love you-” he says with merely an inch of distance between you.

he grunts in melodramatic anguish, overcome by the insensity of his affections overflowing past the brim of his very being, leaning so close that the edge of the table digs into your lower back, surely to leave a temporary mark.

and he carries on to kiss you so many times that you lose count; you can only melt as you collect them in that bottomless pocket located somewhere in your soul, where all the love you’ve received across lifetimes is recorded to prove i was once here.

“i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you. i’m never leaving. you’re stuck with me and bam forever.”

if the time comes that the two of you break up, who would bam come home to? jungkook stubbornly refuses to have that conversation.

however, you still can’t let go of something, and you pout as you shove him lightly. unsurprisingly, his strong build doesn’t budge at all.

“but why didn’t you answer my calls?” at last, you gain enough energy to complain, but your face grows hot as the urge to cry returns. “i mean, what else was i supposed to think?!”

jungkook is struck by yet another lightning.

may the heavens have mercy, he’s been making you angry more than usual lately.

“shit, i forgot. i turned off my phone.” he mutters under his breath, feeling extremely regretful that he was not reachable when you needed him most to be. “i wanted to focus only on you tonight. what do they call it again…? leaving work at work?”

he winces guiltily.

“i’m sorry. maybe it wasn’t a smart idea.”

“no, i like that.” you almost interrupt him from talking because of how fast you are to brush off his apology.

he makes a mental note of it— the way you’re gripping at his shirt in small fists. you’re tense and overwhelmed; you need him to stay close.

“leave work at work. focus on me, and let me be your rest.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook bites back his tears then. after all this time, he still gets mesmerized by the tenderness that naturally governs your every word and action; he thinks that he needs you more than you need him.

—

“just eat, baby. i’ll cook the meat for us.” jungkook coos at you as he cuts more meat into bite-sized pieces using a pair of kitchen shears.

“okay, then i’ll make sure that you eat.” you grin excitedly, dragging your chair closer to his.

you set down the tongs, grabbing your chopsticks to pick up a cooked piece of pork belly from the grill. you don’t forget to blow on it, mindful of burning his tongue.

of course, you don’t want to hurt him, but it would be especially painful for him as a singer.

“ahhh-” still busy with cooking, jungkook opens wide at your cue, catching the meat in between his teeth.

“rice,” he demands as he chews.

you scoop up rice from your bowl, and he devours it happily as he continues to flip the strips of pork belly lined up across the grill.

“mmhmm, it’s so delicious!” he dramatically says out loud. his eyebrows are knitted together and his legs are bouncing under the table, tell-tale signs of him enjoying the food.

witnessing this kind of reaction, any chef would be happy to slave away in the kitchen to serve him a meal. you recognize it in the smile of the owner after jungkook ordered more side dishes, and the way he dashed through the door to reduce the waiting time.

“yah, feed yourself, too!” jungkook chides you after you feed him meat three times in a row, but with an open palm that catches the juice that drips from the kimchi, you still tap your chopsticks against his lips. he spares it a glance before catching it using his tongue.

“i am!” you then rush to wrap a piece of pork belly in lettuce, dipping it into ssamjang before stuffing it into your mouth.

“good job, baby.” he grins in satisfaction, rubbing your back as praise. this makes you preen. “make sure to eat lots, got it?”

but then you’re back to spoiling him rotten, this time with an egg roll. so far, he has only touched his own chopsticks twice.

“i just told you to eat first!”

you glare at him, pouting. “but you worked so hard practicing today and you haven’t even eaten properly yet.”

he is too busy with work, and it’s not news that you’ve been worried sick about his health. it’s difficult to watch him work himself to the bone, but no one truly has the power to stop jungkook from doing what he wants, sometimes not even himself. and you find it impossible to fault him for it when you know that everything he does is done out of love. from the vigorous vocal and dance lessons, and to the deep cleaning of the apartment because his baby has been developing an allergy to dust.

“you need to make it up to your body. here, please?”

he loves being loved, jungkook thinks to himself as he eats the egg roll whole.

—

you were already prepared to go home after dinner, but your night owl for a boyfriend insisted on going on a walk at the park because he wanted to, and you quote, ‘see you awake for a little while longer,’ or whatever the hell he meant by that.

with his tattooed arm protectively swung over your shoulder, you’re engulfed in a wave of nostalgia. for the first two years of your relationship, before you started living together, you only met with each other at night, save for the very rare day-offs that he got. the only places that are still open after midnight are nightclubs, fastfood chains, convenience stores… and well, parks.

and he would always hold you close like this to make you feel safe, and the rest of you melts away while the side of your ribcage that he is pressed against remains to shelter your heart. on the contrary, you also remember how your bodies used to be so tense. you wanted to sacrifice more sleep and to walk to the other side of the park, of the street, to that other convenience store five blocks away because this one didn’t have the flavor of ice cream you wanted, anything… just… anything so you could be with each other ten minutes more.

and it was cold. it was always cold.

“what do you mean ‘it exploded’?”

“it seriously exploded! it was on fire! that’s why i went out to buy a new extension cord!”

“jungkook, it’s because you plug in too many things at once!” you cry out in frustration, your steps becoming heavy stomps. “i told you to stop doing that!”

“what do you mean? if it has six slots, doesn’t that mean six devices is the maximum?” he continues to stubbornly defend himself, and you can only hang your head in defeat. “otherwise, it’s a scam!”

“it is a scam! see…? they made you buy a ne-”

your sentence is cut short as your tongue gets paralyzed.

a dark and striped, long figure approaching ahead, slithering its across the grass.

your mind immediately registers it as the animal you fear most.

oh, no. no, no, no, no, no.

“jungkook,” you utter his name with a tremble.

the same fear you experienced only two hours ago holds you hostage once more, add all the hair in your body standing up and you’re as frightened as a cat.

“what’s wrong? yah! what are you doing?! baby, ba- fuck!” he sputters out as you forcefully pull him back along with you, displaying a type of strength and agility he doesn’t normally see.

the two of you continue to stumble backwards as you struggle to maintain balance, and somehow jungkook manages to switch your positions so that you’re the one who lands on top him instead of the other way around when you eventually end up as a heap on the soft earth.

he begins to feel his throat closing up at the sight of pure, genuine fear in your eyes.

“jungkook, snake- it’s small bu-”

you interrupt your own sentence with a high-pitched squeal, garnering looks from strangers moving and unmoving. in the blink of an eye, your boyfriend has swept you off your feet as if you’re light as a feather, driven by the instinct to protect the love of his life.

you cover your mouth in shock, your other arm coming up around his neck to keep yourself from falling.

you think you may have fallen for jungkook all over again.

“are you spiderman?”

he was too busy searching for the subject of your fear under dim lights, and so he looks at you in bewilderment to ask, “what was that?”

you shake your head with your wide eyes shining with faux innocence. you squeak. “nothing.”

he releases a sigh, followed by a chuckle of obvious relief and amusement as he squeezes your body closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. “aigoo, my ____! why are you so scared today? what am i going to do with you…? it’s just a worm.”

“are you sure? i swear i saw it raise its head!“

“i’m sure,” he lulls you. “i think worms can do that, too?”

your face twists in an expression of mixed bewilderment and distrust.

“that i’m not sure about, but it’s really just a worm! would i still be standing here if it wasn’t?” he clicks his tongue sharply. “we need to get your eyes rechecked.”

you roll your eyes with a huff. you’ve have had enough of his teasing before it even starts.

“uh?! i’m serious over here!”

this is new— you mean bickering with jungkook in a public place isn’t, but being carried by him like a bride while it happens definitely is.

“fine, i’ll go this weekend. happy?” you fake an obedient smile. “you can put me down now.”

he blinks, and then he adjusts the way he’s holding you to ensure that your dress won’t show what’s for his eyes only— for a split second, you were flying.

“i’ll go with you,”

“okay. now put me down.“ you tap his shoulder repeatedly to prompt him to heed your words. “babe, this is embarrassing!”

“nope,” he ignores your protest with nonchalance as he resumes to walk the path you’re on, evidently enjoying the attention he’s stealing and the way you’re curling yourself smaller to hide.

“oh my god! weren’t you just complaining about your body hurting?!”

“you were scared of me leaving,” he smiles, glancing down at you. “so now i’m gluing you to myself.”

that made you quiet for a while. inside your tote, the container of kimchi, wrapped in a plastic bag, rattles with his every stride. you noticed that jungkook loved it so much, so you ordered it to go when he went to the bathroom before you were to leave the restaurant.

“you know, we used to just hold hands,” you mumble with a childish pout. “like normal people?”

“this is very normal,” he argues.

the scenery becomes more familiar as he takes the long way home.

“some would even say romantic.”

a wave of nostalgia hits, and you visibly shiver.

you don’t know if he would remember, but he has said the same exact words once before.

you scrunch your nose, supposedly to give him a look of disgust, but a giddy smile betrays you. you are five years younger again, and the night ends with the moon bidding you an adieu.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[chrispotatos]

Unfollowed- chris sturniolo

warnings: smut, p in v sex, idk what

summary: you saw chris' following and he makes you help unfollow them all since it bothers you so much.

a/n: i didn't proofread cause im too tired and i know im gonna regret it when i wake up.

a/n: this was inspired by one of @mattscoquette asks I'll tey and find it when i wake up but I'm literally about to crash out.

"im not playing around with you chris, so stop fucking smiling" you say through gritted teeth, pointing in his face.

You were currently yelling at chris about his insta following. You don't normally check his following because he has your trust and you didn't need too.

His fans were constantly messaging you about it so you checked and it was random only fan girls.

"Unfollow them!" you demanded, handing him his phone back. "why? you jealous" he let out a humorless laugh; infuriating you more.

"they don't mean anything to me" he added you felt as though he was lying straight through his teeth. If they didn't mean anything why couldn't he simply unfollow them "chris it was brought to my attention and it bothers me. unfollow. them"

"all of them" i added

"i don't know about you but this is really turning me on" he snorts grabbing your wrist and putting your hand on his crotch feeling his growing erection, not taking his eyes off you once; smirking. "chris.."

you were flattered while also shocked, for the most part. what you were saying probably wasn't even being heard and if so he liked it. The yelling and you trying to stand your ground and exert dominance, it was cute the affects you had on him showed profusely.

"go lay on the bed y/n" his stern tone made your pussy throb, you were now just as turned on as him.

chris got up from his gaming chair and walked over to the bed, where you were laying propped up on your elbows.

"you wanna demand thing, how bout you do me a favor and unfollow these girls for me, while i fuck you huh?" he told you, not asking nor suggesting.

He pulled your legs off the bed and flipped you onto your stomach, your ass sticking out against him. you let out a suprised gasp from the aggressive toss.

he threw his phone infront of you on his following list. "don't touch shit till i tell you to" you nod in response.

"oh c'mon baby, you were doing all that yelling, and don't have not one thing to say?" he teased. you shake your head making a chuckle leave his lips "alright then"

chris tugged your loosley fitted jeans off and threw them onto the ground leaving you in your panties. He unzips his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers and takes his aching dick out leaking with arousal.

he pulls your panties to the side to feel your soaked cunt, his semi cold fingers coming in contact with your core made you jolt. "Y/n" he warns.

your panties were pulled down and tossed to the side with some of your other article of clothing. you helped by also removing your shirt, but you gave up when you started struggling to take your bra off.

chris tugs your hair back and puts his hand under your mouth "spit" whatever you could form in your mouth you spit into his hand.

he strokes his length, with pre cum and your spit.

chris groans when sliding into your pussy this made you sink your teeth into your bottom lip letting out a muffled whimper.

"Start unfollowing. and say the name of the girls you unfollow too"

he ruts his hips into you, a loud moan following from the sudden movement followed by a low 'fuck'

your focus was on the phone but the sensation of pleasure was a distracting and manipulating your train of thought.

"I don't hear you" he reminds. His thrusts becoming more forceful and deep.

"paige- i unfollowed paige" you squealed screwing your eyes shut and opening them again to finish what was asked of you. "Im not letting you cum until you unfollowed every girl"

That made you fill with haste and begin looking at names quicker atleast you thought you were going quicker. "sid- sidney i unfollowed her" chris makes a makeshift ponytail and uses that as leverage to fuck into you harder.

his dick abusing your insides pumping in and out of your wet pussy. Wet, lewd sounds of skin slapping echoed in the room. chris brings his hand down to your clit rubbing it vigourisly with pressure, leaving your mouth agape, whimpers and high-pitched moans exited your mouth.

"chris- i can't finish reading the names" you admit. "then i guess I'll just have to stop" he begins slowing down his pace "no!" You protest against it picking the phone back up

"thats what i thought"

"mia.. im close" you said "my names not mia" he lets out a humorous chuckle, removing his hand from your hair and hold your hips pushing in and out.

You are reaching your climax and trying so hard not to realese.

his movements were at an ungodly pace making you drop his phone and forgetting why you were holding it in the first place.

with a few seconds passing his actions were getting more sloppy signifying he was getting close to his orgasm.

there was one more girl left then you were done it's not like he followed a whole bunch of them just about 10 max.

"madeline!" you yell out the last girls name, hitting the unfollow button then finishing around him laying limp against the bed. chris feels you up with his seed, your juices mixing; as he plunges his twitching cock in and out of you riding out both your orgasms, he winced pulling out. heavy breaths leaving from both of you. chris flops down beside you on the bed.

waiting a few minutes watching, as your chest rises and falls; catching your breath. "lets get cleaned up yeah?" he suggested.

[marvellous1917]

Icarus

(Part 1)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x tattoo artist!reader

Summary: you come home from work, only to find a mob boss in your house looking for your roommate.

Warnings: mentions of a gun, mentions of arms and drug trafficking, murder, kidnapping, torture, swearing, tattoos, gambling, think that’s it

A/n: I’m a simple girl. Mob!Bucky makes my brain go whurrrrrr. This is pure self service because I have this tattoo lol. Been along time guys what’s up?

————

“Late night?” The deep voice came from the dark.

“Holy-” fear spiked through your heart from the unfamiliar sound, your arms dropping the bags and your back crashing into the closed front door, “-who.. who are you?” You asked the unfamiliar voice. Turning slightly you see the long haired, leather covered man sat in the dining room. His left arm rested on the table, the prosthetic shining, the light from the street lamp outside shining through the window. His face was half shrouded in darkness, the other half showed his eyes, a little confused but also amused.

“You’re not Caleb.” He replied, sitting back in the chair, tilting his head to the side and moving something that looked suspiciously pistol shaped off of the table and into the inside pocket of his jacket, you reached up and flipped on the light.

“N-no no, I’m not. I’m his roommate.” You said, finally registering who you were talking to. The now fully visible metal arm was a pretty big giveaway, if nothing else. ‘There is a mob boss sat in my kitchen, what the fuck’.

“What do you want with Caleb? Does he owe you something?” The thought was out of your mouth before you could stop it. “Oh god no sorry forget I asked. Sorry... sir? I don’t-”

“I’m assuming from that reaction you know who I am,” He said, smirk on his face as he stood and moved closer, your back pressing flatter against the wall beside the door with every step he took.

“Of..of course I do, everyone in New York knows who you are..Sir” You replied.

“Hmm, I’m gonna take that as a compliment doll,”

“It is! Sorry! Congrats on all the… mafia shit.” Did I just say ‘mafia shit’ to a gangster.

The silence is awkward, his face blank and all you can think is ‘Oh my god I’m gonna die.’ His face twists into a …smile.. you think, y’know its hard to tell, fear has your vision all fuzzy.

He then starts to..laugh. He’s laughing? He’s actually laughing.

“Is this something you do before you kill people? You laugh, give them a false sense of security then shoot them?” You ramble quietly, confused at what’s happening.

He moved his left hand to rest on his stomach, the metal catching the light, shining right in you eye and it fully registered that, holy shit, James fucking Barnes, The Winter goddamn Soldier is in my house. This man is literally wanted by every law enforcement agent in the country, he’s in control of one of the most ruthless organisations in the world, they traffic arms and drugs and gun down anyone that gets in the way. Apparently, at least that’s what the news said. The stories about him though, way more upsetting.

The rumor was that after he left the special forces, he was captured by an organisation that wanted him to work for them. When he tried to escape the first time, they took his arm, and he was stuck working for them for a decade. The story goes that after he finally escaped, he tracked down everyone that was a part of it and killed them all, by himself. Alone. Just him. On his own. Then he took over their supply and demand and built his empire from the ground up.

“Oh god.. ‘congrats on all the mafia shit’, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while…” he pushed out while chuckling. “I’m gonna get that shit tattooed, I swear,” he said.

“I could do that for you,” it was out of your mouth before you could stop it. ‘Oh my god, shut up Y/N’ you thought to yourself.

“What?” He asked, eyes flitting over to yours, his piercing stare causing all sorts of feeling to rise inside your chest; fear, confusion, attraction. Attraction? What? Damn him and his pretty face. He’s a killer Y/N, remember that?

“Nothing, sorry” you answered, looking down at your feet.

“No what did you say Y/n?” He asked again, his voice more stern than before. If you weren’t so scared, you would have questioned how he knew your name.

“I said that I could give you that tattoo, sorry, just slipped out” you replied, unsure what his response would be to your completely unnecessary comment.

“Stop apologising would’ya doll, there’s no need.” He said, sort of sweetly, a small comforting smile on his face, the pet name causing all sorts of lovely feelings inside.

“Sor.. yes Sir,” you corrected yourself.

“And stop calling me Sir darlin, only my employees call me that,” he said, “well my employees and some others..” he said with a dirty smirk, causing your eyebrows to raise sky high.

“Sorry Sir,” you said quickly, not even thinking. “…shit.”

“Seriously doll, you don’t need to be so scared of me,” he stated, his right hand reaching out and landing on your shoulder, your muscles tensing for a second then relaxing when you saw the look in his eye, he was telling the truth

“Ok.. then can I ask why you are here?” You ask, some fear creeping it’s way into your voice despite his reassurance. He kept his face carefully still and he looked you up and down, the feeling of being examined was strong, like he was trying to decide if you were worthy of knowing his business.

“You got it right earlier, your roommate owes me something, and I came to get it from him,” he removes his hand from your arm as he spoke after a tense silence. He was being purposely vague, trying to gage your reaction, to see if you were really clueless or you were playing with him.

“It’s money right, I mean it has to be, what else could he owe you. I told him to stop freaking borrowing money I swear I tried to stop him, but he never listened to me..l”

“You’re rambling darlin, you realise that?” He cuts you off with a smirk on his face.

“I’ve been told I do that when I’m nervous. I don’t know how much Caleb owes you and I don’t know what the situation is but.. if you.. I mean..”

“What doll? What are you trying to say. I won’t be mad, I swear,” Barnes responds, one side of his lips tugging upwards at your mumbling.

“Could you give him some more time?”

He was not expecting that. ‘Brave little thing’ he thought.

“I mean I don’t know how long he’s owed you for but he’s getting back on track I swear, he’s getting better, he is, in-fact he’s at a gamblers anonymous meeting right now, and he has a job interview tomorrow so he can pay rent and pay back people he owes money to.” You rush out, trying to help your friend, “Of course he never told me that he owes money to a mobster but that besides the point” you add quieter, more to yourself than anything but Barnes still heard it. He chuckled and ran his flesh hand through his hair, pushing back the long strands out of his face.

“He does owe money to a mobster, quite a lot in fact so I’m gonna have to say no to that request darlin, I’ve given him long enough.” He responds, his tone dripping with authority, the Brooklyn drawl on the pet name he threw out made your heart beat faster.

“Please. Please just think about it Sir.. uh Mr Barnes.. Sir. Caleb’s had a rough go of it lately, he lost his father not too long ago and he’s been a mess ever since, if you could just give..”

“I already said no once doll, I don’t like repeating myself.” His tone was final, and even though his words were not that intense, the threat in his voice hung in the air like poison gas before slamming into your chest, the fear that had previously been quelled came racing back, sitting on your shoulders like a lead coat.

The silence stayed for longer this time, you eyes firmly fixed to the floor to a sound even the possibility of upsetting the man that had broken into your home.

“So you’re a tattoo artist huh? He asked, his low voice calming you some. Huh he’s trying to make me less afraid of him, what kind of ruthless criminal is he?

“Yes..um I am,” you answer, incredibly aware of the position you were in, better to go along with whatever he did.

“You got a flash book?” He questioned, genuinely interested.

“Uh yeah I do.” You reply awkwardly, not sure where this new line of conversation was coming from.

“Can I see it?”

“…sure,” the word came out as a question.

He nodded at you, and you took it as a sign that you were good to move. Turning slowly and moving away from the wall to your bag on the floor, you reach down and grab your flash sketchbook and hand it to him.

“Are all of these available?” He asked, flipping through the pages, taking in each design.

Seeing him like this, calmly looking through the sketchbook makes it very easy to forget who he was, a ruthless calculating Mob Boss, wanted for almost every crime under the sun.

“The ones with the X’s over them have been done before but could be repeated if someone really wanted it,” you answered, slightly more confident in yourself as you were talking about something you loved.

“This is Latin, right, what does it mean?” He asked, moving to stand next to you pointing to a design in the book, an alien inside a bottle of wine.

“‘In Vino Veritas’, it means ‘In wine, there is truth’” you say, “ I though it was funny, y’know.. ‘the truth is out there’..aliens..” you trailed off, not sure how to explain that design

He let out an quiet amused sound, his shoulder brushing yours, sending a trail of chills down your spine.

“This one is beautiful,” he said, pointing to a different design on the next page.

“Thank you, it’s Icarus, I have it tattooed on me, it was hard as hell doing it on my own leg,” you say, proud of the design you created.

“Icarus, what’s his story? I can’t quite remember, ” he asks.

“It’s a Greek myth y’know, Icarus and his father were held captive by King Minos in a tower, his father created wax wings so they could fly away from their captors. The father warned Icarus from flying too high or too low, but he ignored his fathers warnings and flew too close to the sun and his wings melted. It’s a moral story to warn against the dangers of complacency and hubris, but to me it’s just a tragedy.” You say, turning to face him, making eye contact with the man. He listened intently to the story, his face unreadable but you thought you saw a flash of something in his eyes, maybe he related to the myth, a man that was once held captive, now with everything in his hands, in danger of losing it all if he flew too close to the sun himself.

“A tragedy huh? I don’t think there’s anything tragic about it. He was warned not to do something dangerous and he went and did it anyway, it’s his own damn fault,” he stated, something slightly argumentative in his tone.

He looked straight at you while speaking and you couldn’t help but feel as if he was looking into your soul, like his statement was some kind of test.

“I agree with the idea that he got what he deserved, but I meant it as a tragedy for his father. Creating something so pure for you and your child to escape from captivity, only for your child to ignore your warnings and pay the ultimate price for it. His father probably spent the rest of his life regretting escaping his prison because that was the action that ultimately lead to his sons death. It’s heartbreaking if you see it from a different perspective,” you say back, not really expecting him to engage you in a philosophical debate.

“Hmm.. that’s an interesting way to see it, I’m not really one for looking at different perspectives, mine suits me just fine,” he answered, the fact that this man was dangerous came screaming back to you with the look on his face, blank like he was devout of all emotion at that moment. You got the feeling he wasn’t speaking metaphorically anymore.

The tension was palpable, you not knowing what to say next and him deciding he was done talking for the time being. He placed the book down on a side table, and turned back to you. “Y’know what, I want it.” He said, confusing flooding your brain.

“Want what?” You ask calmly, not wanting to push your luck with the man.

“That tattoo, the Icarus one, I want it.” He answers, leaning back against the side of the table he was sat at earlier. His crossed his arms, which should have been intimidating, but for some reason the only thought floating through your head was Damn his arms are bigger than my head. Gimmie.

“You want the Icarus?” You ask, somewhat stupidly and he had just said that.

“Yes I do,” he answered simply, “Are you free tomorrow?” He asks, smile on his face.

“Umm not really, I have a few appointments tomo..”

“Move them, hell cancel them. Block out a spot long enough for me to get this tattoo.” He states, cutting of your sentence.

“I can’t do that, it’s too short notice and I could loose..”

“I’ll pay what ever you lose for cancelling the appointments. I’m getting this done, tomorrow.” He cuts you off again, a finality in his tone that warns you it would be pointless and probably rather stupid to argue.

“Uh..ok” you respond, shaking your head a little, still trying to figure out what just happened.

“Great.” He clapped his hands together and the sound made you jump. Barnes either didn’t notice it or just didn’t care. “Give me your phone.”

“Huh? Why do you want my phone?” You question.

Barnes just rolled his eyes, walked forward until he was stood right infront of you, toe to toe, staring down at you with a semi amused look on his face.

“How am I supposed to find out where your shop is if you don’t text me the location?” He said sarcastically.

Literally a million different ways, google it for starters, get one of your goons to find it, stalk me and follow me there.. c’mon man think. Obviously you kept these thoughts to yourself but Barnes smirked as if he could hear them anyway. Pulling out your phone and handing it to him you ask, “What time do you want to come in for?”

“Around 1-ish doll, that ok?” He asked, knowing that it is, as he’s already told you to move/cancel your other appointments.

“That’s fine by me Bar..Mr Barnes” you answer, slipping up, almost forgetting the level of respect you should probably show to the gangster in your home.

He calls his phone from yours, adding the new number to contacts in both phones, “there, now you can let me know the address of your shop.”

“I’ll sent it to you tomorrow.. unless you want me to send it now?” You asked he hands your phone back , uncertain of what he wanted

“Tomorrows fine” he answers, walking backwards towards the front door, “I’ll see ya in the afternoon doll,” he says while opening the door and mostly leaving until he pauses completely, slowly turning back towards you.

This is it, he’s been messing with me this whole time and now he’s going to shoot me.

“Tell Caleb he has 6 weeks to get my money back to me or I’ll be paying him another visit, ok doll.” He says, no question in his voice. He waits until you answer with a “Yes, Mr Barnes,” and disappears into the hallway outside your apartment.

It takes about 5 minutes for the shock to fully wear off, and it causes you to stagger over to the couch, fall backwards onto it an ask into the empty room, “What the actual fuck just happened?”

As soon as the question was out of your mouth , your phone buzzed in your hand.

James:

Don’t ever call me Mr Barnes again Y/n.

It makes me feel ancient.

I hate that.

[a-hazbin-reader]

OK ANOTHER IDEA

OK SO WE KNOW THAT ALASTOR IS A MAMAS BOY AND HAS AN AMAZING RELATIONSHIP WITH HER

SO WHAT IF ALASTOR HAD A FEM S/O BUT SHE HAS A TERRIBLE RELATIONSHIP WITH HER MOM, ITS JUST SO EMOTIONALLY TOXIC (especially with reader being an older sibling)

reader never tells him though because alastors relationship with his mom is good and she doesn’t wanna make him feel bad whenever he talks about her and one day readers mom comes to the hotel and reader DREADS it and becomes snappy but readers mom wins everyone over (of course alastor too). So when reader explains that she doesn’t want her mom around alastor can’t understand why and reader feels betrayed its only later when readers mom shows her true colors towards reader. And reader of course bites back (or at least tries too)

So basically angst to fluff and SORRY IF THATS SO MUCH😭😭

👀 Mommy issues??? 👀

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Emotionally Abusive mother, Reader suffering, Reader gets grabbed a few times, Ambiguous ending for mama

Description: ☝️⬆️

When it comes to mothers, it's safe to say you and Alastor had very different experiences

His mother was full of warmth and kindness towards him, doing her best to build him up into a great man

She loved him greatly and it shows whenever he talks about her

But your mother?? Your mother saw you as fucking competition and always found ways to put you down, to make herself better than you

Well maybe she should be the one who was cooking the meals, getting your younger siblings off to school on time or making sure everyone had clean clothes

Just the thought of her made your stomach flip and your legs shake

She would put you down all your life while claiming it was so that you could be a great woman just like her, but not too great, you have to remember who the better woman is

Well now you're both in hell so-

You put as much distance between her and yourself as you could, living your afterlife without her influence

You even got yourself a handsome powerful overlord boyfriend and new friends to share your life with

Even though you're supposed to be in hell, you couldn't be happier

At least you were until your mother showed up at the hotel, her face full of faux worry and tears

"Oh my precious girl! This is where you've been hiding? I was so worried!!"

Before Charlie can even shut the door, your mother has already shoved her way inside and literally dug her claws into you, hugging you

It's all you can do not to throw up, smothered by her familiar scent and grip, hearing her voice again after all this time

"Now let Mommy take a look at you-oh!!! And here I was worried that you were starving! Good to know you've put some weight on those bones!"

And it's already starting-

And now she's crying and rocking you in her arms, cooing about how much she's missed you and how she's never letting you go again

Charlie and the others are just staring at the two of you, completely enraptured by your mother, like everyone always is

She loved being the center of attention

When you finally come to your senses you push her away and create some distance, disturbed by the worried looks everyone is giving her

"Mom, why are you here?"

Oh don't everyone look at you like you're the bad guy!! She's the one who's only here because she wants something!!

"Maybe I wouldn't have to come track you down if you would just visit your poor mother every once in a while...she never even calls me, you know!"

And now she's crying again, Charlie immediately going to comfort her while Vaggie gives you a dirty look

Fucking mommy issues much? Don't fall for this crap

"I don't want to visit you, so just leave-"

"Well now, who is this~?"

Alastor! Yes! He can make her leave! You turn to give your boyfriend a pleading look but your mother catches his attention first

"Oh don't worry about who I am.. just a poor lonely mother who came to see her daughter...but I guess I'll show myself out.."

Alastor doesn't have to guess who she's talking about, even in death you always looked like your mother

His smile gets surprisingly warm and soft, taking your mother's hand in his own in a disgusting display of affection that used to only be for you

"You're Y/N's mother? My my, I should've guessed! You must have so many stories of her from her life! I simply must insist that you say."

ALASTOR NO

You feel sick but nobody notices, your mother already soaking up their attention and winning their hearts

So you turn and leave the hotel, unable to stand being in her presence any longer, you don't miss the smug look she gives you on your way out

You spend all day trying to avoid going back to the hotel until you're sure your mother is gone

You're more than disappointed to find her drinking tea with Alastor, the two of them laughing, her placing her hand on top of his

She always used to try and go after your boyfriends and that hasn't changed either

She hasn't changed

"Oh darling~! We hadn't realized you left! Alastor and I were simply having a moment~"

Alastor lights up when he sees you, only to be visibly confused by your troubled expression

"Y/N! Your mother was just telling me about her life before you! She was quite a wildcard back then!"

Your mother is practically drooling over him, rubbing his hand and winking

"I'm still wild if you ever care to find out!"

You've had it

You tug your mother's hand off of Alastor, forcing her to stand up and look you in the eyes

"You need to leave! Right now!"

And here come the waterworks again

"Y/N..! Darling, what did I do wrong? I'm your mother please don't throw me out like this!"

You just start pushing her towards the door and you slam it shut behind her, sighing in relief

That is until you look at Alastor's face, his smile seeming strained

"Y/N! You can't just throw her out like that, not only is that bad manners but that's no way to treat the woman who raised you!"

Raised you? You raised yourself!!

"Alastor, you don't know what you're talking about so please just stay out of it. You don't know what she's like-"

You're trying to stay calm-

"She's your mother, it's not like she's some evil creature-"

"SHE'S IN HELL OF COURSE SHE'S EVIL-"

"So are you and I, my dear."

You try to put your foot down, tell him that you don't want her here but he's already opening the door for her and letting her back in

She looks so pleased with herself

He invites her to stay the night because of course he does, he would do it for his own mother so why not yours

You try not to give her the satisfaction of seeing you cry but your eyes are already hot and watery

"I-I'm going to bed..!"

Alastor calls for you, trying to resolve things then and there but the only response he gets is your door slamming shut

He goes to go after you but your mother stops him with a gentle hand to the shoulder

"Now now...let her cool off for a bit then I'll go make sure she's alright, a mother always knows how to cheer up her child~"

It feels like you spend hours crying in your bed, feeling so hurt that Alastor took her side over yours

Your mom isn't like his, she doesn't nurture, she just takes from you and bullies you

Later, just when you've about cried yourself to sleep, you hear the bedroom door open

"Alastor..?"

"Not a chance, pet."

Now what does she want

"Why are you even here?"

Suddenly she pounces on you, grabbing your wrists tightly, eyes wild with fury she must've been containing this whole time

You don't even know why she's so mad at you, you haven't seen her in years-

"You think you're better than me now, is that it? Now that you're on your own, living in some fancy hotel, got some powerful boytoy, hiding behind hell's princess?"

As a kid, she seemed so strong but now you easily rip out of her grasp and manage to create some distance between you two

"I'm not hiding behind anyone! I'm just trying to get away from you!"

"Oh no no no, that's not how this works! I am your mother! If I have to be miserable and live in filth then so do you!"

"Why are you even here!?"

"Because it's not fair! I deserve to be here! Not some ungrateful little bitch who just happened to fall out of me!"

She lunges at you and you try to dodge her but she manages to grab you by your hair, yanking you back

You're about to start swinging when Alastor is suddenly there, watching the two of you in bewilderment

Then that bewilderment melts away into understanding, then anger

The radio sounds in the room are suddenly deafening, your mother letting go of you so she can cover her ears

You take the chance to kick her away, watching as she tumbles and loses consciousness from the impact

Alastor kneels beside you but you flinch away from him, still feeling hurt

"Y/N...I'm so sorry..." He does look properly ashamed, his smile a little watery

"Why didn't you just tell me that she was like this..?"

How could you even begin to start?? That you didn't want to somehow sour his opinion of mothers by telling him about your own?

That you didn't want him to feel guilty for having a mother who loved him while you grew up having to be a mother to your siblings because your own mom had none to give??

It's just word vomit at this point, but Alastor simply gathers you into his arms, tutting as he checks your scalp and fixes your hair

When he gets to your wrists where your mother grabbed than his smile turns positively venomous, giving your mother a deadly look

"What do you want me to do with her? Anything you ask..."

You're a little irritated that he brought her up, having been too relaxed by the feeling of his lips against your palm

"I just want her out of here..."

And that's all it takes, Alastor calls for Niffty and has her take out the trash, her scuttling out gleefully while dragging your mother

Niffty doesn't even care, she's just happy to have a new toy

You didn't realize how stressed out you were until it was just the two of you, Alastor rubbing your back soothingly

You don't know when you fall asleep but when you wake up Alastor is kissing the side of your face, looking as apologetic as he can be

You manage to convince him to apologize in morning snuggles and by the time you two come downstairs everyone else is awake

"Where is Y/N's mom?"

Not Niffty giggling and running out of the room

Alastor simply shakes his head and wraps an arm around your waist to hold you closer

"She is gone and won't ever be visiting again, I would like to ask that nobody brings her up again~"

Something about the way he says it manages to shut everyone up

Alastor takes you out to eat your favorite breakfast and spends the day spoiling you

He doesn't bring up the events of last night until the two of you are in bed, entangled in each other's arms

"You didn't ruin my opinion of mothers, you know."

"I didn't?"

"No, in fact, it sounds like you were quite the mother back in your day~"

Not his hand rubbing your belly

OH MAMA THIS ONE TOOK ALL DAY! I hope you liked it!!

[wqnwoos]

Your first and only semester as TA throws your previously unassuming college life into disarray, fuelled almost entirely by the brown-eyed and charming student who’s slipping closer to failing with every lecture. And in return for your mathematical assistance, Lee Chan decides he’s going to set you up with the guy you’ve been persistently pining over for a year and a half. It’s a simple equation: you teach him calculus, and he’ll teach you how to flirt. Except, as you’re both quick to discover, mathematical equations don’t translate over to real life as easily as you’d expect.

as part of the svt ta collab hosted by @camandemstudios !

⇢ pairing: lee chan x ta!reader

⇢ genre: fluff, idiots2lovers, minor angst?

⇢ wc: 10.2k (i’m just as surprised as u are)

⇢ a/n: so many people to thank (the whole collab server for all the sprinting!!) but especial thank u to cam (@/highvern) and em (@/gyuswhore) for hosting this collab. they put SO much work into this and i couldn’t be more grateful to be part of it, so thank you both for everything!!! and thank you to alta (@/haologram) for being my first official beta ever and managing to convince me to not trash the whole thing <3

“I NEED YOUR help.”

Those are probably the last four words you expect to come out of Lee Chan’s mouth. Because you’ve graded his assignments and you’ve seen his work and you’re pretty sure he’s doing above average in the calculus class you’re TA’ing this semester. 

So when he manages to corner you after one of the lectures to ask for some extra tutoring, you’re startled, to say the least. “You need my help?”

He nods, once. You cock your head to the side, and your surprise must show on your face, because he fishes a slightly crumpled looking paper out of his bag. You recognise it as the latest quiz, one that, fortunately, landed on the other TA’s marking pile. Scrawled at the very top, in Joshua’s unforgiving red pen, is a glaringly large ‘F - 27%’.

“It was only a pop quiz,” you say encouragingly, hiding your sympathetic wince. “Doesn’t count for anything.”

“I can’t afford to let my grades slip,” he counters quickly, like he’s prepared for this. “Which they are And I really don’t get this module. I just think some extra time could help, but I’m terrible at teaching myself.”

You look at him for a long moment. He can’t be more than a year or two younger than you, this boy with eager brown eyes and a hopeful smile; it’s almost charming, how he leans forward in anticipation of your reply, how worried he is about one small test. And — well. You’ve seen the grade sheets, and his grades are slipping. Not drastically, but this is your job, after all.

“Well,” you say finally, glancing at your watch. “Why don’t you come to the office hours tomorrow, and we’ll go over the quiz? And we can go from there.”

He smiles then, so sudden and bright you almost feel caught in it. “Perfect!” he agrees, as he takes his quiz back, shoving it haphazardly into his bag. “I’ll see you then. Oh, wait — my name’s Chan, by the way.”

You cast him an amused look as you zip up your own bag. “I know that.”

“Oh! Cool! Nice! That’s — yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow!” And as he backs away he stumbles over his own feet, catching himself before he topples over. He sends you a sheepish, flushed smile that makes you smile too. You’re always quick to smile at the students, and you send off the younger boy with a wave. Despite being a math major who loves her subject, you know just how much people despise it. Especially calculus.

“What’s got you thinking so hard?” A light voice interrupts your thoughts, and you jump, before turning to face Hong Joshua with a smile just as sheepish as Lee Chan’s was only moments ago.

“Nothing much,” you say, laughing awkwardly. Trying to look anywhere but at his honey brown eyes, you shuffle papers as you continue. “Just about how much people hate math.”

Joshua smiles that breathtaking smile, and your stomach quite literally does a flip. “Why? People bullying you for being smart again?”

You’d mentioned to him that you got made fun of in high school once for liking math. He refuses to let it go: you roll your eyes at him. “No. It was just a train of thought.”

“People who hate math are just not as cool as us,” he says, picking up his own folder, flashing you another smile.

(Us. Your stomach could be Simone Biles, with the amount of somersaults it’s landing today.)

“But anyway,” he continues, checking the time with a frown, “I gotta go. I’ll see you around, dude.”

Dude. There it is: just as quickly as you inflate, you deflate, watching him leave with a wrinkled brow. The problem with Hong Joshua is that he makes it incredibly easy to fall for him — and all the while, he’ll remain incredibly oblivious. You’re just another one of the sorry suckers who isn’t careful enough to nip it in the bud. But really, can you be blamed, when he looks like that? When he acts like that, all sweet and caring and let-me-hold-open-the-door-for-you?

You snap yourself out of your reverie with a sigh. Back to reality, as your mother always says — and your reality is the pile of algebra waiting for you back home.

“What I don’t understand,” Seungkwan says thoughtfully, pacing Chan’s room with his hands folded behind his back, “is why you’re putting on cologne to go to office hours.”

Chan hears the know-it-all tone under his roommate’s pretension, and he resents it. Running a final hand through his hair, and glancing himself over in the mirror one more time, he turns back to Seungkwan with a frustrated scoff. “Does it matter?”

“A problem shared is a problem halved,” Seungkwan wheedles, “In this case, it’d be a problem thirded. Three’d. You know what I mean - there’s three of us to share your problem. Right, Vernon?”

Vernon just blinks from his seat on Chan’s bed, slow and confused. “I don’t really know what we’re talking about. But sure.”

“Nothing,” Chan answers brutally, snatching up his bag. “We’re talking about nothing. Because I don’t have a problem, and Seungkwan’s just being nosy.”

“Look at him!” Seungkwan gesticulates loudly to Vernon, “look how dressed up he is. For class — for calculus! Nobody dresses up for calculus!”

“Ahhh,” Vernon nods slowly, drawing it out; and then he pauses, furrows his brows and asks mildly, “But isn’t that just because he has a crush on his TA?”

Chan hisses; Seungkwan triumphs. “I knew it!” he declares with glee, “I knew there was something! Who is she? Do you have a picture?”

“Nobody,” Chan grinds out, grabbing his backpack and jamming his feet into his worn-out shoes, casting Vernon a resentful look. “And I do not have a picture. But if I did, I wouldn’t show you. Goodbye.” And with that magnificent gesture, he shuts the door firmly behind him.

He’s not late to office hours. He never is. In fact, he’s three minutes early, but you’re already there, along with one or two other classmates he knows by sight but not by name. You’re leaning over one of their desks, talking rapidly as you gesture to the papers in front of them, lanyard swinging.

Chan doesn’t have a crush on you, contrary to what seems to be popular belief. Well. Not a big one. Like, a teensy tiny one, maybe. He thinks you’re pretty, and you’re smart, and you’re incredibly kind. But does he have a crush on you? No. Are his intentions here solely to get to know you better, in order to have a crush on you? Yes. In fact, that’s exactly what this is. Pursuing the butterflies in his stomach. Just out of interest, he reminds himself, as he pushes open the door and you turn around. Pure, innocent interest.

Within an hour of his entrance, you’ve explained every one of Chan’s mistakes — and there were a lot — in digestible detail. Twice as efficient and twice as digestible as Lee, the old, weak-voiced professor with an evidently wrong glasses prescription. He says as much to you, which has you laughing and shaking your head. (“Don’t,” you scold, even as you smile, “he’s so nice, though.”)

The professor is nice. Chan thinks you’re nicer.

He leaves office hours even brighter than he entered. Those butterflies are multiplying.

And, as it turns out in the very next week, when there’s yet another pop quiz — Chan is under the suspicion that Professor Lee doesn’t plan his lessons and just shoves last year’s quizzes at them instead —  he does actually need your help. His grades are getting worse. There’s always the other TA, Joshua, who Chan actually happens to know, but Chan thinks that his half-crush is worth following up on. At the very least, you could be a good friend.

Is pretending to need calculus tutoring in order to get to know a girl his finest moment? No. Because as much as he tries to justify this with his slipping grades, he knows perfectly well he could be doing excellently (well, averagely) if he put a little more effort in. But is that as appealing as the TA with the best laugh he’s ever heard? And so, somehow, with impressive persuasive skills he probably picked up from Jeonghan by accident, Chan manages to wheedle you into tutoring him, smiling as you hmm’ed and haa’ed and bit your lip nervously. 

“I’ve got a full list already,” you had said slowly, and he’d jumped in before you could go down the route of polite refusal.

“I know, I know, but seriously — I’ll be the best student you’ve ever had! I’m a good learner, I swear. I can study whenever you want.” 

Which is how he landed himself early morning sessions — and when you said early, you weren’t kidding. The times you’ve scheduled for him to start range between eight to ten, and he specifically didn’t book morning classes this semester because he loves his sleep. But still: his grades are slipping, and there’s a cute girl on the line, so he takes his success with warmth  — or perhaps it’s just the thought of spending more time with you, but whatever it is, he feels like he’s glowing, inside out. 

Your first tutoring session with Lee Chan goes surprisingly well. The moment he began halfway guilt tripping  you into tutoring him (“Imagine if my grades slip so far, I don’t get to graduate on time. Could you live with that?”), you knew he was something. And somehow, you still agreed to this, despite being loaded with all the shit a master’s student has on their plate, on top of TA’ing. Maybe you should work on saying no sometimes, but who are you kidding? You don’t have time to deal with your possibly self-destructive flaws, not when your to-do list is three miles long 

Despite your qualms, however, Chan turns out to be a great listener. He doesn’t act pissy when you tell him he’s doing something wrong, either, which is already better than half your students. 

“I probably seem really stupid,” he says with a quiet laugh, as he re-attempts a question from the last quiz.

“Not at all,” you say instantly. “Don’t tell Lee, but calculus is the worst, anyway.”

He lifts his head with curved lips — “Oh? From the words of the mathematical extraordinaire herself?” 

Immediately, you’re growing hot, shaking your head and laughing, looking away. “Oh, come on. Don’t call me that.”

Chan’s eyes don’t move from yours — it’s like you can physically feel the weight of his gaze, sometimes. You’ve never met someone with so much… presence. “Why not?” he asks. “Own it. Professor Lee says that about you all the time.”

“Okay, not me specifically,” you correct quickly, “he says that about Joshua too.”

Chan clicks his tongue dismissively. “Yeah, but Joshua’s a piece of shit anyway, so…”

Your surprise must be visible on your face, because when Chan looks back at you, he laughs out loud, louder than the other students in the library are happy with; they cast him dirty looks, but it’s like they bounce straight off him. He only lowers his voice a little, leaning closer. “Joshua and I are friends,” he explains, amused, “I’m not serious. But anyway, if you don’t even like calculus, what are you doing TA’ing it?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, just… Lee asked me to, so I was like, why not?”

“I can’t imagine anything worse,” Chan says bluntly, “than teaching a bunch of people how to integrate shit.”

A giggle slips out of you before you can prevent it; he makes you do that a lot. Laugh, without meaning to. “Well. That’s why I majored in Math. I don’t mind.” You hesitate. “What are you actually majoring in?”

His eyes do that thing again. Sparkle. He bites down on his lip, as if suppressing a smile. “Math.”

“What?” You can’t help it, you’re laughing again, louder this time and trying to stifle it. “You never said!”

“You never asked!” He mirrors your incredulous tone teasingly. 

“You just let me embarrass myself like that.”

“You didn’t do anything embarrassing.” 

You try to ignore his eyes on you again, picking up your pencil to doodle awkwardly in your notebook. “I thought you were like… on a sports program. Or in, like, accounting or something.”

Impossibly, his smile widens. “Those are two very different things.” 

The playful lilt to his tone does something to your stomach. “Have you finished your question yet?” You change the subject so sharply that he laughs again, sliding his notebook over to you.

You glance over it, blinking in surprise. “That’s perfect,” you say, pushing it back towards him. “Well done.”

That smile shifts into something more — well, if you didn’t know any better, you’d call it flirty. Lopsided and charming. “Yeah, well,” he says, packing up his stuff, “I‘ve got a great teacher.”

The tutoring sessions continue to pass much the same. Chan does his work, but keeps stopping to ask you all kinds of questions in between. Your favourite colour. Your favourite type of coffee. Your favourite movie, TV show, your hometown — somehow, his easy, open nature has you telling him all kinds of things, and more than that, you’re asking him all kinds of things in return.

“You know, I’m not like this with the rest of my tutoring roster,” you observe quietly, as you finish a story about your high school prom. “Like, at all.”

“Good!” he says, grinning at you. He’s wearing glasses today, you notice. He looks — nice. Cute. “That’d be like you’re cheating on me. I’m your favourite student.”

Slightly appalled, you nudge him. “Not true! I’ve never said that. I don’t play favourites.”

“I do,” he says just as swiftly. “I’m your favourite. I can tell.” He pats your hand. “It’s okay, you’re my favourite too.”

You pull your hand away, ignoring the swoop of your stomach. “Focus!”

“How am I supposed to focus when you’re right there?” 

“Easily,” you snap, “since you’re my favourite student.”

Chan positively beams when you say it, not even attempting to hide it as he returns to the problems in front of him. “As long as you can admit it.”

At the end of the session, Chan digs into his bag and slides a candy over to you, and you can’t help the smile that splits your face open. “No way,” you cry, picking it up, “I love these! How did you know?”

He smiles, not even glancing at the candy once, fixing his eyes on you. “You told me. Like, a week ago.”

You barely remember that Something swells up inside you, tight and hot and sweet. “Oh, wow. Thank you, Chan.” You hope he can hear how touched you are, because you can’t quite express it. 

“It’s nothing,” he says, with a small smile, one you can’t quite read. “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah,” you say after the shortest of pauses. “Of course. We’re friends.”

He truly is something else. Almost your opposite, with his confidence and his openness and outright friendliness. You can’t quite put it into words, but something warm just pours out of him.

When you say as much to Minghao, your best friend, he laughs in your face. “Chan? Lee Chan?”

“He’s nice,” you protest lightly. Minghao somehow knows him, through Jeonghan or something or other. Briefly, you wonder how many people Chan knows — which really just proves your point. He’s annoyingly likeable, and even though you have to be forced to admit it, he is easily your favourite out of all the students you tutor. It’s barely even a competition; it’s not a competition. Your other students are fine, but they’re not quite Chan.

“Lee Chan is a little shit,” Minghao says with a hidden affection you’ve had to learn to detect. “But, yeah. He’s a good guy.” There’s a pause filled by the surrounding murmurs of people in the coffee shop you guys are in. It’s always overflowing with people, but it’s the only place that serves halfway decent herbal tea for Minghao, so the two of you always end up meeting here.

“How’s Joshua?” Minghao asks suddenly, doing the annoying thing where he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Still as sexy and gentlemanly as ever, is he?”

At the very mention of his name, you feel yourself growing hotter. “He’s fine,” you say shortly. “Busy.”

Your crush on Joshua has never been a secret from Minghao. Even if you’d wanted it to be, Minghao would’ve worked it out in two days, tops. But, as you keep reiterating, it’s just a stupid crush. It’ll fade. Just like your crush on Kim Hongjoong two years ago, and your crush on Kim Namjoon the year before that. You have a habit of letting things die out, and you’re very comfortable in that habit. 

“___,” Minghao says seriously, “you should tell him.”

“There are literally so many things I’d do before I confess. I’d rather memorise the proof of Fermat’s Last Theorem than do that.”

“You never know if you don’t try! And besides,” Minghao adds, softer, “even if he, you know, doesn’t feel that way, Joshua’s not... well, he won’t make you feel bad about anything. You guys can still be friends. Joshua’s nice.”

Which is the sentence that echoes in your head later that same day, when your meeting with Professor Lee and Joshua is over. Lee is long gone, leaving you and Joshua to go over a few minor details with your tutor schedules and office hour planning. Joshua just looks… really good, with all his files spread out in front of him, his silky voice talking about something stupid one of his tutees had done, his long, dyed hair slightly mussed. 

“…and then he asked me how to find where the line intercepts the asymptote!” he finishes, chuckling. You’re a little late with your laugh, too busy focussing on how the afternoon sun lights up his hair, making it look lighter than it actually is.

Joshua calls your name, his smile shifting into something more concerned. “Are you okay?”

Your words stumble into each other on their way out. “I — well, yeah. Fine. I’m fine — good. I’m good.”

You guys can still be friends. 

“Actually, Josh, I wanted to ask you something,” you say in a sudden emboldened rush. 

���Go for it,” he says, smile fading ever so slightly. “Everything okay?”

“I — ” You hesitate, and in that split second, your courage disappears. You stare at him, and your brain decides for you: unattainable. Untouchable. “I forgot,” you finish lamely, ducking your head and shuffling your papers. Surprisingly, you’re not quite at the level of mortification you thought you would be.

“Ookay,” Joshua drags out, still watching you with concern, before he shakes it off and starts to gather his things. “Well, just let me know if you remember. I’m here for you, okay? We’re friends, not just TAs!”

That fucking word again. Friends. Only this time, you realise suddenly, it barely even hurts. 

Maybe you’re just getting used to it.

“So…” Vernon says, sidling up to Chan in their shared kitchen, “how’s your TA?”

Chan sighs, looking mournfully at the spicy ramen he’d just made for himself. So much for peace. It must’ve been the smell that lured Vernon out of his bedroom, but he’s clearly an opportunist; killing two birds with one stone by prying into his life and poaching his food. “Joshua is fine.”

“That’s great, but I know that already,” Vernon says, as he helps himself to some of the ramen. Chan lets him, and that must be how his friend realises something is wrong, because he’s suddenly narrowing his eyes at Chan around his mouthful of noodles. “What is it? Did she turn you down?”

Chan drags out his words. “I haven’t said anything to her. She likes someone else. I can tell.”

Vernon considers this for a moment, characteristically quiet and contemplative. “Are you sure?”

“Well — not really. But I’m like, eighty percent sure? But also I don’t really know her that well, and Jeonghan once said to me she’s always super nice to everyone, so I don’t think she’s into me. But then I also don’t know if she’s into him either! Because she’s nice to me and him and apparently every motherfucker on the planet, so it’s, like, confusing, you know? But like. I think she is into him. She looks at him in a kinda way, so…”

Vernon chews with wide eyes. “Damn. That’s crazy, bro, what are you going to do?

Chan exhales deeply. “I don’t know. I think we’ll be better off as friends. I’ll probably just… give up.”

Vernon nods slowly, already backing away. “Good luck, dude. Here for you.” He raises an awkward fist in solidarity, and that’s when Chan glances at his bowl of ramen and realises it’s empty.

Chan allows himself one day to mope. He even cancels a session for the first time, shooting you a quick message to let you know he isn’t feeling great, and he wallows. Stays in bed the entire twenty four hours, scoffing all the ramen in the house, and now he owes Seungkwan and Vernon two packs each, but still — he feels better. He’s grateful he didn’t let it get too far, at the very least. You guys can still be friends, and one day this will be a funny joke he slips into conversation.

When he shows up to the next session, a few days later, he’s determined not to show any hint of awkwardness. He plunks his books down with a renewed energy, startling you as you take out your headphones. 

“I was going to ask if you’re feeling better,” you start dryly, “but I can see that’s clearly the case.”

“Yeah. Nothing big, I’m fine now,” he waves off your concern. Heartsick, maybe. It still twinges at him, when he sees your soft smile, faintly smells your trademark perfume, your colour coded notes in front of you. He doesn’t know when highlighters became so endearing, when he learnt that you always overuse the pastel green one. 

“Okay, so asymptotes,” you begin, and Chan scoots closer, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“You’re my asymptote,” he says with solemn seriousness, “because I always tend towards you.” 

You fluster easily, Chan has noticed. You avoid his gaze, but you’re laughing, telling him how terrible his jokes are but still — you’re laughing.

Suddenly, in only a few minutes, the thought of getting over you is a lot more daunting than he imagined. You make it harder when you laugh at the stupid joke he quips a moment later, too; you always tell him he has an infectious laugh, but yours is like music to his ears, no matter how hard you try to suppress it in the library. 

“Come on,” you say, finally, gathering yourself together. “Asymptotes. It’s our last lesson for a bit. Are you going home for Thanksgiving?”

“Leaving tomorrow afternoon,” he confirms. “What about you?”

“Tomorrow morning,” you say. “Asymptotes will be the end of this chapter, so it’s perfect timing, really. We can start the new stuff after the break.”

Privately, Chan thinks the break really is perfect timing. He can wallow a little more, back at home with the comfort of his mother’s food and his father’s baseball reruns. He’ll come back ready to finish his tutoring, ace calculus, and be your friend. With firm emphasis on friend. For a moment, he considers you and Joshua as a couple, and honestly, as much as it stings, it’s cute. It makes sense. 

After the break, winter hits full force. Your first tutoring session at the library is with Chan, and you’re layered up to the max, treating yourself to coffee as a shield against the bite of the cold outside. Vaguely, you remember Chan saying something about how he only drinks lattes hot, and so you order one for him too, taking extra packets of sugar and a stirring spoon on your way out. You know he likes to do the sugar himself.

“I’m late, I know.” You shrug off your coat when you arrive at your guys’ usual table, shaking the raindrops off your coat and hair with an apologetic smile. “It literally started pouring just two minutes before I got here, but here — coffee.” You unload your arms on the table in front of him, slightly breathless, tugging a hand through your untamed hair. 

You catch Chan looking at you, something unreadable in his gaze, and you wince. “Sorry,” you apologise again.

“It’s okay,” he says, “I’ve just — I’ve never seen you so…”

“Messy?” you finish, laughing half self-consciously.

“Disorganised,” he corrects, and it feels gentler. “You’re kind of, like, windswept?” He pauses, quieter. “You look — pretty.”

You ran to the library a solid ten minutes ago. Your heart shouldn’t still be beating this fast. “Thank you,” you reply, just as quietly. There’s silence for a beat, fraught with some sort of tension, before you slap the textbook with too much enthusiasm, “So, uh, next chapter!”

“Next chapter,” he agrees quickly, and just like that, the weirdness dissipates, and it’s just you and Chan.

At least, until Joshua steps in the library. He’s browsing the section near you; you see him before he sees you, but only by a few seconds. You just have enough time to think how cute his scarf is, and then his eyes fall on you and Chan, and he waves with a smile. 

You wave back as he nears the table. “I don’t want to interrupt,” Joshua explains quickly, “just wanted to say hi. To both of you. How’s it going?” He directs his question to Chan, adding — “Is she running you to the ground?”

“She wouldn’t,” Chan says simply. He doesn’t say much else as Joshua says his goodbyes and disappears between the shelves, but you’re still a little harried-looking, dusting down your clothes unnecessarily. 

“So,” Chan says casually, as you return your focus to him and take a sip of water to try and cool you down, “how long have you had a crush on Joshua?”

You choke. Heat curls up your neck, and not because of your coughing — hot-faced and spluttering, you demand, “What are you talking about?” Even as you speak, you can tell your voice is pitched too high. Too defensive.

The younger boy gives you a look. “Come on. I’m not blind.”

You duck your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, so this question about limits — ”

“You’re a terrible liar,” he sings, cutting you off. “You have a big fat crush on Hong Joshua!”

Eyes wide, you slap a hand over his mouth, glancing behind you in horror. “Oh my God, keep your voice down!”

Beneath your palm, Chan gives you the most self-satisfied, victorious look, and belatedly, you realise you’ve given yourself away. “Fuck you,” you say, without any venom, releasing him and leaning back, trying extremely hard not to sulk. “It’s none of your business anyway.”

“It is when you’re making googly eyes at him right in front of me. Your student.”

“I don’t make googly eyes!” you object immediately, horrified. “I’ve never made googly eyes.”

“Whatever you say, teach.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t!”

“Okay, I said.” He still has that smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. It’s infuriating.

Briefly, your mind flits back to the stumbling boy you’d spoken to when he’d first asked for your help, back in late September. You miss him, you think sarcastically. He was the total opposite of the guy in front of you now.

“So?” Chan leans forward over the desk with raised, expectant eyebrows.

“So what?”

“So, how long? A month? Two?”

Your cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. Again.

“Longer?”

 “A year,” you whisper, avoiding his gaze.

“A year?!” He practically yelps, and you have never wanted to bury yourself alive more than you do at this moment.

“A year and a half. Or something,” you confirm weakly, and then shake your head. You gently push his forehead with the eraser side of your pencil, forcing him back to his side of the desk. “But that doesn’t matter. I’m meant to be helping you with limits today.”

“I think you need more help than I do,” he says with sudden, sweet sympathy, patting your hand how he always does. You snatch it away and glare at him, but he ploughs on. “How have you not made a single move for a year and a half? You should do something about it. Move past the googly eyes.”

“Don’t want to. Can’t make me.” You tap your pencil against his open, untouched /textbook. “Now focus. On your work, and not on prying into my love life!”

He clicks his tongue softly, but picks up his own pencil again; inwardly, you let out a soft sigh of relief. Mortification still boils in the pits of your stomach — a guy you barely even know caught on so quickly. Are you really so obvious?

Chan works quietly for all of three minutes, and then he glances at you again. “I don’t want to hear it,” you say warningly, cutting him off before he can even start.

Amusement sparkles in his eyes. “I didn’t say anything!”

”You were going to.”

“I think you should make a move, that’s all.”

“I think it’s none of your business.” 

“You said we were friends now! I’m trying to help my friend!”

“I take it back. Strictly tutor and student. We’re no longer friends.”

“No, seriously. I think you could totally get him to fall for you.”

You audibly snort. “Chan, do you know how many people have a crush on Joshua? He wouldn’t look twice at me. And I’m fine with that.”

“I’m not!”

You groan, tip your head on to the textbook in front of you. Then you turn, glaring at him and his entertained smile — with a smushed cheek and sulky pout, you ask, ”Why is this such a big deal to you, anyway?”

Chan almost seems to fold in on himself when you ask that. For someone so open and friendly, he has a way of shuttering down that startles you a little. It’s subtle, but you’re starting to notice it; his avoidant eyes and the faint pink on the apples of his cheeks. “I don’t know,” he says, shrugging with obviously feigned nonchalance. “I guess — I think you deserve to be happy.”

Sometimes people say things that hit you straight in the gut. Wind you. Leave you just a little bit breathless with their sincerity. 

You open and close your mouth like a fucking fish. “Oh,” you say at last, stupidly, “that’s — that’s really nice of you, Chan.”

Whatever brief embarrassment he was experiencing, he seems to be over it. “I know. I’m the best. And that’s why I’m going to help you.”

You laugh again, amused and slightly endeared by his enthusiasm. “Okay, fairy godmother. Let’s get back to work, maybe.”

“No, seriously,” Chan insists, brown eyes sparkling. “I’m going to teach you how to flirt.”

The previous flattering you felt disappears in the space of a second. “Excuse me?” you say incredulously, but you’re laughing already, simply at the pure audacity. “Who says I don’t know how to flirt?”

“You did,” he says, matching your smile, “when you didn’t make a single move for a year and a half. But don’t worry. I’m going to help you.”

“I didn’t ask for your help!”

“No, but you need it, so I’m going to help you anyway,” he nods generously.

“How kind,” you say sarcastically, before thwacking his shoulder with your thinnest textbook.

Chan bursts out laughing as he dodges it, before switching back to that tone — the one that had you caving into him only a few weeks back, when he asked you to be his tutor. (Briefly, you wonder how it’s only been a few weeks. Part of you feels like you’ve known him forever.)

“Seriously,” he continues, “I can help you. I’ve literally never been rejected in my life.”

“Oh, yeah?” You snort, but honestly, you don’t doubt it. 

He tilts his head to the side. “Well, like, once in middle school. It doesn’t count. 100% success rate, baby.”

“99%, maybe.”

“That is not how statistics works,” he says smugly. “Thought you’d know better, teach.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best. I’m going to get you a boyfriend; literally just give me twenty minutes at the end of the rest of our tutoring sessions.”

“We only have, like, three left.” 

“That’ll be enough.”

Fuck it, you think. You don’t think this will help you with Joshua — nor do you want it to — but why the hell not? If it makes Chan happy, as it so clearly seems to…

“Ten minutes,” you sigh.

His eyes brighten. “Fifteen.”

“Fine,” you acquiesce after a short moment, waving your hand dismissively. “From next time, though. I don’t have time today.”

You try to ignore his Cheshire cat grin, but it’s infectious. You’re mirroring it by the time he slaps the desk victoriously, assuring you, “You won’t regret this, I swear.”

“I’m sure I will. So, limits — ”

“Limits,” he agrees, an infuriatingly triumphant smirk on his lips. 

You roll your eyes, but you’re still smiling. “You have no limits.”

“Lesson one,” Chan says, a little too gleefully, only a few days later. “Body language.” 

He watches you pass a hand over your forehead with a grimace. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“First tip is to not be doing things like that when he speaks,” Chan says lightly, pulling your hands away from your forehead. He places his index fingers either side of your lips, and gently, carefully, he pulls the corners of them upwards. “Smile.” 

You blink at him, and it is, unfortunately, the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “But,” he continues, shaking it off and pulling his fingers away, “you’re good at smiling anyway, so that’s not a key concern.”

Surprise appears on your features. “Nobody’s ever said that to me before. I usually get the opposite.”

Chan is slightly taken-aback, because you’re always smiling. You’re quiet, definitely, but you laugh super easy, and smile even easier than that. 

“But go on.” You change the subject quickly, and Chan realises that despite yourself, you’re getting intrigued now. 

“Tip number two,” he continues, magnanimously, “eye contact.”

“Absolutely not.”

“What? Why not?” The swiftness of your refusal startles him, but even as he asks, he kind of knows; you tend to avoid eye contact, especially when you’re shy, or embarrassed, or confused, or… well, a lot of the time. “You can practise.”

You look at him with horror. “Practise?”

“With me,” he nods, steeling himself already. “Now.”

“You’re joking.”

“I never joke,” he lies straight to your face, just to make you relax. Sure enough, your shoulders loosen almost instantly, and you let out half a smile. “Come on. Just for two minutes.” 

“Okay,” you finally agree, meeting his stare. Chan leans forward just the slightest bit, and for the first time in his life, he understands what it means to sink into someone else’s eyes. Your gaze isn’t intense, but it’s captivating, and he’s not sure if that’s his own feelings surfacing up again, or it’s just — natural. Either way, being this close to you is doing something funny to his ribs, the same thing that happened when you brought him coffee. 

He tries to distract himself. “Can’t believe we only have two tutoring sessions left.” His voice has lowered instinctively, taken on a slightly gravelly tone that seems to surprise you a little Your lips part for a second, and then you nod; he watches your throat bob as you swallow.

“Yeah,” you say, equally as hushed. “Time flies, huh?”

His lips are dry. The tip of his tongue darts out, and he watches as you seem to follow it. “Yeah. When you’re having fun.”

Chan goes home that night more confused than before, and it only gets worse when Seungkwan’s waiting for him in the living room, hands on hips. One look at him, and Chan can tell he’s going to play interrogator.

“I just don’t know if this is a good idea,” Seungkwan says, at last, after Chan slumps on to the couch. “Helping her get with Joshua. You’re going to break your own heart.”

Chan wrinkles his nose. “I am not. We’re just friends, Seungkwan. I’m over it.”

Seungkwan looks at him disbelievingly, and Chan rolls his eyes. “I’m getting over it,” he corrects himself. “But we’re fine. Don’t worry.”

“I’m your best friend,” Seungkwan replies instantly, “Of course I’m going to worry. You just — you open your heart so easily. Which is a good thing!” he tacks on hastily, “But she… well.” 

Arching a brow, Chan leans forward. “She what?”

“Let me put it this way. You’re a romantic, and from what I can tell, she’s a cynic.”

Chan has never given much thought to what other people think about you, not until now. In all honesty, he’d had a similar perception of you, at first. Extremely organised. Kind of stoic. Nice, but distant. But now, he’s sure that nothing has ever been further from the truth. You’re reserved, that goes without a doubt, but you’re not cold. You’re kind. Care immensely for your friends, even though there are only a few of them. Shy, but sweet, and he thinks it’s a fucking shame that people can’t see that. He’d thought you were distant, but he’s heard other people describe you as uptight. Snobbish.

All people do is talk, he thinks with a little contempt. 

He looks back at his roommate. “You don’t know her, Seungkwan. She’s not a cynic.”

His friend shrugs. “I trust you. Just… be careful.”

Your second “lesson” with Chan begins with him grabbing you by the hand and pulling you in between random bookshelves. 

“Stand here,” he instructs, before patting you on the shoulders. You can feel the warmth of his hands through your sweater. “Okay,” he says, “lesson two is all about conversation. He’s going to fall in love with your mouth — not like that,” he adds quickly, when he sees you biting down on your lip to hide your laugh. “Mind out the gutter, teach.”

You grin at him cheekily. “You’re the teacher now. Come on, then.” The truth is, these lessons are more entertaining than anything. You’re enjoying it, hanging out with Chan without having to remind him to finish his questions or double-check the textbook. 

“Be serious!” he complains, but his eyes have that usual sparkle to them. He glances at your clothes for a moment. “Nice sweater, by the way. You look good in blue. But anyway, quick tips — remember what he likes, compliment him, talk about what you have in common, stuff like that. Okay, I’m going to go over and I want you to imagine I’m Joshua. So you see me randomly in the library, what are you doing?”

You snort. “Running in the other direction.”

He holds a finger up, hiding a smile at your silly answer. “Bzzzt. Wrong answer. You lose ten points.”

“When did I have ten points to begin with?” you argue, but still, you’re struggling to suppress your giggles. 

“You didn’t. You’re in the negatives.” He flicks you gently on the forehead. “Try again.”

“Ow,” you complain, pouting. “Okay, I’m meant to say hi.”

“Ding! Ten points. Back to zero.” Chan waits expectantly, and you look at him in confusion. He motions with his fingers. “Go on. Say hi.”

“I am not roleplaying with you!” you hiss, horrified, pushing his arm gently. He stumbles back exaggeratedly. “We do math, Chan, not drama!”

“Actually I do math and history,” he corrects nonchalantly, “and history is dramatic.”

Flummoxed, you repeat after him — “History? Since when do you do history?”

“Since, like, three years ago…?” He laughs at your expression, but you can’t bring yourself to mirror his lightness, for once. 

You feel rooted to your spot. “You’re a double major?” Something uncomfortable stirs in the pits of your stomach, and you know you’re not being rational — there’s no reason why this should jar you so much, but you feel jarred. “How did I not know this?” you ask, more to yourself. You turn to him, head moving so sharply he almost steps back. “Did you ever mention this?

Chan’s smile is fading. “I don’t know. Probably not.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” he laughs awkwardly, “it never came up. It’s not a big deal!”

“It is to me,” you insist, “Chan, you’re my friend! I should know this stuff!”

“It’s not a big deal,” he repeats, his brows furrowed. “Seriously. You know me better than half my friends already, and we’ve only been friends for like, a few months.” He attempts a smile — “You even know about the whole story behind that girl rejecting me back in middle school, I don’t tell that to everyone.”

“Yeah,” you say distractedly, “I guess so.”

Chan looks at the time. “Don’t you have a meeting now? With Joshua?”

You tilt your head, confused, your mind still on his history major.  “I do?”

“It’s Wednesday,” he reminds you, and you snap out of it, checking the time yourself. “You’re going to be late,” Chan laughs, gently pushing you towards your bag. “Go!”

You wave at him as you gather your stuff haphazardly, calling an, “I’ll text you later!” ok your way out. 

“Remember my top tips!” he calls back, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You laugh and flip him off, bundling yourself out the library — only to run smack into another girl leaving at the same time. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” you apologise, helping her pick up her pencils. “I wasn’t looking!”

“It’s okay,” she assures you quickly. “By the way,” she adds, “you and your boyfriend are so cute!”

“My… boyfriend?” You hand her stuff back to her with a furrowed brow.

She beams at you sunnily. “Yeah! I always see you guys on your cute study dates over there, it’s soo sweet. The way you guys look at each other is, like, to die for.”

“Thank you,” you say automatically, before opening your mouth to correct her. But it’s too late, she’s gone and you’re left standing in the exit with a thousand thoughts rushing through your mind, ones that preoccupy you all the way back to yours and Joshua’s shared office. 

They only multiply when you see Joshua, and feel absolutely nothing. There’s no typical dip in your stomach, no stuttering heartbeat, just a familiar smile and nothing else, which is when you realise — you haven’t been feeling anything like what you used to feel.

At least, not around Joshua.

“That’s the first time you’ve been late, like, ever,” Joshua observes, “Were you with Chan?”

“Yeah, I — uh, how did you know that?” You cut yourself off to stare at him in surprise.

“Our tutoring schedules are right there,” he smiles, nodding to the pinboard next to him. You almost sigh in relief. A normal explanation, finally. Something that makes sense. These realisations and observations are nothing more than —

“But you always have a certain look after you see him anyway,” Joshua continues obliviously. “Your eyes get all shiny. You smile more.” He pauses, grins at you knowingly, “You guys are close, huh?”

“I — I don’t — ” You stutter feebly, because suddenly everything is hot and you need to lie down. “I don’t feel well,” you almost shout, way too loud; Joshua startles, but nods. 

“Okay,” he says, worriedly. “We can reschedule, but do you need a ride home?”

“No!” you snap, before taking a deep breath. “Sorry. No. I think — the fresh air will be good for me.”

Joshua lets you go, and you feel close to tears the whole way home. 

You can’t stomach this, you think, curled up in a ball under your duvet. It doesn’t make sense; you may be a math major, but none of this is adding up.

“I like Joshua,” you say out loud, and it sounds hollow. It sounds false. It doesn’t bring anything with it. 

Slowly, tentatively, you say, “I like Chan.” 

That brings so much, but more than anything, it brings warmth. Warmth like the serious brown of his eyes, his rough hands, his smile, his laugh, the way he chews his lip when he’s thinking hard about a question. 

You stick your head in a pillow and let out a scream.

Chan doesn’t know if he should invite you to the end of semester party that Seungcheol is throwing, considering his absolute failure in getting over you, but he does it anyway. He invited you to the Halloween one, and you turned him down, saying you had plans with some other friends, but he reckons it’s worth trying again, so he does just that.

Your response comes within minutes. 

[16:43] you: isn’t that the night before our last tutoring?

[16:44] chan: i know! but i’ll be on time i promise i wont even drink that much [16:44] chan: it’ll be like a celebration!!

[16:45] you: of what?

[16:45] chan: you put up with me for a full semester :)

He watches your typing bubble appear and reappear multiple times with a frown, until:

[16:48] you: i don’t “put up” with you chan

A smile. A big cheesy one that has his cheeks aching a little.

[16:48] you: we’re friends, aren’t we?

No matter how hard he tries, that still stings. 

The party sneaks up faster than expected, and Chan agrees to meet you there, because you’re coming with Minghao, and he agreed to help Seungcheol set up before he knew you were coming. Which is, you know, whatever. He’s not a little upset that he doesn’t get to pick you up in his car and do the whole opening-your-door-for-you thing — not at all, no matter what Seungkwan tries to imply.

Joshua probably would’ve, he thinks miserably, as people begin to arrive. That’s what you’d once said, ages ago, that you liked about him. 

‘He’s sweet,’ you’d said, ‘and he, like, holds doors open for me.’

‘The bar is in hell,’ Chan had said in response, making you snort with laughter, hiding your face. 

“No moping at my party!” Seungcheol yells as he sails by, carrying a load of ping pong balls — they’re setting up beer pong in the other room, but for once, Chan doesn’t feel the need to take up Jeonghan’s challenge. He dithers by the door, looking up hopefully every time someone enters, and every time, it isn’t you. 

Until it is. You come in just after Minghao, and Chan’s breath is quite literally taken away. It’s horrifyingly cliché, how gorgeous you look — you always do, but he’s never seen you dressed up before. Not like this, with a blue dress that falls to your mid-thigh, hair done to perfection. Makeup too, that makes your eyes look bigger and softer, that matches your outfit exactly.

Something swells inside him when he sees you on your tiptoes, craning your neck this way and that; instinctively, he thinks you’re looking for him. And when your eyes finally land on his, you smile so big that his insides turn molten; hot and tight and full, so incredibly full. He moves towards you without even realising, a moth to a flame. 

“You look — ” He swallows. Hard. “Amazing. You look amazing.”

You open your mouth to reply, but before you can, Minghao mutters something in your ear, gesturing to a room on the right before tugging you away. Chan watches as you send him an apologetic wave — and then you’re gone, melting into the sea of people that Seungcheol somehow knows. And he’s tugged in completely the opposite direction, casting one longing look after you.

About an hour into the party, you see Chan with someone else. A girl. Short, dark-haired, bright-eyed — pretty. So pretty.

You’re not one to get jealous, usually. But that’s the only word to describe the way your stomach drops and your heart twists. Green-eyed monster, rearing in your chest. She makes him laugh, and he touches her arm when he does, and honestly, it’s a completely innocent picture. They’re probably just friends, and you’re usually so secure in yourself, but with Chan — you feel everything but secure. It was only last week you allowed yourself to acknowledge you were halfway to falling in love with him.

Joshua was familiar, at least. This is not, which is why it took you so long to accept it. 

You smooth down your dress (“You look good in blue.”), and watch as Chan leans down to hear her over the music. Maybe it’s the second drink in your hand, which you’d only taken after being egged on by Mingyu — he’d handed you his “professional” jungle juice. It tastes like shit, but recent events have brought with them a desire to get absolutely fucking wasted.

Tragically, you’ve managed tipsy at best, but it’s still enough to have you over-emotional, and with one last look at Chan and the pretty girl, you escape the watchful eyes of Minghao to the balcony of Seungcheol’s disgustingly wealthy place to cry. Which you do, with shaky, gulping breaths, and blurred vision.

When you’ve calmed yourself just the slightest bit, you glance at yourself in your phone camera, lit up by the yellow lighting inside. The girl in the mirror is almost unrecognisable — drunk and face streaked with cheap mascara (advertised as waterproof but clearly not).

God, your head aches. When did life become so fucking complicated?

You know when; you know exactly when, that little snarky voice in the corner of your head tells you, flashing you an image of a certain brown-haired boy with his stupid smile. You know that this mess started somewhere around when he waltzed into your life, brandishing his flirting tips and stupid math puns.  What you don’t know is when he slipped his way into your heart, when you somehow gave him the power to crush it in his fingers. 

That’s what it feels like. Lee Chan has your heart in the palm of his hand, and he doesn’t have a fucking clue.

The thought makes you feel slightly sick — or maybe it’s the overconsumption of the jungle juice that Mingyu cooked up, but whatever it is, your stomach churns uncomfortably, leaving acid climbing your throat. You cast a contemptuous look at the mixture in your red solo cup, and with a sigh, dump the rest of it over the balcony next to you. You ignore the call of hey, fuck you! that comes from below, instead sinking to the floor, hugging your knees and leaning your aching, hot against the cool metal railing to blink away the tears that burn behind your eyes.

Momentarily you consider how at the start of the year, you’d never have expected yourself to be here, not in a million years. At the SVT frat house, hidden in a corner to weep over a boy. A boy that isn’t Hong Joshua — a boy that is, technically, in some ways, your student.

“Fuck you, Lee Chan,” you say bitterly, and as always, you can’t bring yourself to mean it.

“Why’s that?” A familiar voice has you snapping your head towards the balcony doorway. Tall and smiling as always, Joshua regards you with a look of mixed sympathy and pity. You resent it. 

“Fuck you too!” You try to scowl at him; it doesn’t quite work, and you’re too drunk and tired to muster up the energy to be angry at him. Joshua didn’t really do anything; the only crime you can hold against him is obliviousness. He’s not the one holding your heart in his hands. You don’t think he ever really was — at the very least, what you felt with him was never like this. There was never so much.

Joshua doesn’t say anything, just laughs and sits next to you on the floor. Both of you have your backs pressed to the railing, and he nudges you softly with his shoulder. “Everything okay?”

You swallow thickly. “No.”

He smiles ever so slightly, nodding to your tearful face. “Yeah, I mean, I figured.”

You let out a watery giggle. “God. I’m such a mess.”

Joshua hums, like he’s actually considering your words deeply. “You aren’t, really. You’re like, the least messy person I know.”

You sniffle a little. “What?”

“Come on, ___, you’re like the most put-together person in this whole university. It’s kind of refreshing to see you outside of that.”

“What, you enjoy seeing me cry?” 

“No, of course not,” he says quickly, bumping your shoulder. “Just. In general, I mean. You’ve been happier lately.”

You gesture to your tear tracks. “This is happy?”

Joshua clicks his tongue at you. “I think Chan is really good for you,” he says finally, quietly. Like he knows he’s broaching a forbidden topic — which he is. You flinch at the very sound of his name. “He makes you happy. That’s what I mean. You should give yourself a shot.”

“No,” you say immediately, automatically. “I can’t.”

“You could,” he says, without reproach. “If you let yourself.”

You let that settle. Silence falls — or at least as much silence as you can get when you’re metres away from a house party. “I used to have a crush on you, you know.” You don’t look at him, facing straight ahead thoughtfully.

Joshua smiles, rueful. “I know.”

You snap your head round, and your disbelief must be etched onto your face because he laughs. “I could tell,” he shrugs. “You got flustered so easily, sometimes.”

The slightest of groans. “I do that, apparently.” You hug your legs to you again, resting your cheek on your knees as you look at Joshua, sitting by your side. “I almost asked you out, too.” 

“I probably would’ve said yes,” he confesses honestly, but still, somehow, you don’t feel anything. “But then I saw how you are with Chan. And that is not like this,” he continues gently. “The way you looked at me back then is nothing, compared to how you look at him.”

“Don’t tell him.” You’re not afraid to beg.

“God forbid you let yourself feel something, right?” Joshua laughs a little, but his eyes bore into you with sincere sympathy. “Why are you so afraid of your own feelings?”

You don’t know what to say. But you’re saved from having to think about it, because Lee Chan himself sticks his head through the door, something shifting on to his face when his eyes finally land on you. 

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you for — ” he freezes for a second, the exact moment his eyes land on Joshua sitting next to you “ — ages,” he finishes, slowly, before taking a step back. “I should go.”

“No, stay,” Joshua says, quickly, standing up. “We were just finished.”

Chan fidgets with the end of his shirt as Joshua leaves, casting one more empathetic smile at you, and the moment the older boy is gone, Chan steps closer towards you. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t realise he was — you’re crying.” His change in tone is so abrupt, from apologetic to dead serious in half a second. ”What happened?”

“Nothing,” you say, too high-pitched. “I’m fine now. It’s fine.”

“Was it Joshua?” he demands, already looking back in the direction his friend disappeared to. “What did he say?”

“What? No. It wasn’t him.” You try to change the subject. “I am older than you, you know, I don’t need to be babysat. I hope you didn’t interrupt your fun just to come looking for me.”

He smiles, but his eyes don’t. “Only by a year. And anyway, I have more fun with you.”

You hate that your mind flits back to that girl, the laughing one. “What about your friends? I saw you with, um, what’s her name? The pretty one, dark hair?” 

Subtlety is not your strong suit. 

Chan just blinks at you. “You mean Jana? Yeah, she wanted me to play beer pong against her and her girlfriend. But I did that.” Something untwists in your stomach. He steps closer, fishing a tissue out of nowhere, and with the tenderest touch, wipes at the makeup staining your cheeks.

He’s so close, you can see every individual eyelash. “Why? Were you jealous?” he asks lightly, referring to Jana as he uses one hand to cup your cheek and remove the dark mess under your eyes more carefully.

“No!” Your voice is harsher than intended, jerking out of his grip. and his eyes flick to yours with worry.

“I was kidding,” he says softly, frowning, “Is everything okay, teach?”

Alcohol blurs your rational thinking. You lean your forehead against his chest with the deepest sigh. “Sorry. Sorry.” A short breath. “Chan, I’m so tired.”

He wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back up and down. “Are you drunk?”

You shake your head. “I was tipsy, but I only had two drinks. I’m sober now. Just… exhausted.” 

“I can take you home,” he murmurs against your ear; he’s so warm, he always is, but his touch sends goosebumps all over your skin. “Is that what you want?”

You lean back, look him in the eye, but neither of you let go of each other. Eye contact. From lesson one. “What’s the third lesson?”

“What?”

“Tomorrow. Our last lesson. What’s it on?”

He’s silent for a minute. “I don’t know,” he replies, at last. 

You cock your head to the side, questioningly, and it’s like something in him snaps, and the words come rushing out, stumbling into each other — “I’ve been making these up as I go along. On the spot.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised but too numb to feel it properly. “Why?”

He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, looking defeated. “I don’t know. Well. I do. I just don’t know how to tell you.”

Something clicks for you. I’ve got a great teacher. You’re my favourite too. You look — pretty. I think you deserve to be happy. You look good in blue. 

“Chan,” you say, taking an abrupt step back. Your voice is hoarse suddenly, scratchy with yet another realisation. “What colour is my dress?”

He looks utterly perplexed by your swift change in subject, but he obliges you anyway. “Blue. Why?”

“Do you remember,” you begin, voice shaking ever so slightly. This is the precipice. You’re taking the leap. God forbid you let yourself feel something — well, you are. “Do you remember a week ago? Lesson two?”

“Conversation,” he nods, and you can see his mind working a hundred miles an hour. 

“I was wearing that sweater, and you said — ”

“You look good in blue,” he finishes at once. His eyes flit between you and the dress, and you see the exact moment it dawns on him; the light of comprehension. “But you — Joshua — ”

You shake your head at the question he doesn’t ask. 

It’s like he’s frozen. A minute or a century passes, you’re not sure which, before his eyes meet yours again, filled with something heavy, raw, tender emotion. “How long?”

“Long enough,” you say, and then you’re kissing him, or he’s kissing you, you’re not sure who moves first, or if you move at the same time, but whatever it is — you’re melting into him and he is melting into you, and it’s like your heart gives a happy little sigh. Your shoulders relax, and the tension of the past few weeks evaporates in a few gentle touches.

You break apart with a soft little ‘tch’ sound, and he looks at you with full eyes and the shyest smile you’ve ever seen him wear. 

“You know, technically, you’re still my student,” you say, slightly breathless, entirely giddy. 

He rolls his eyes, tugging you back in already, sliding his arms around your waist. “Yeah, for a week.”

“And a half,” you add, as he begins to kiss up your neck. “You’d better ace your exam next week, after all our hard work.”

He presses his nose into your neck, huffing out a laugh. “I can’t believe that’s what you’re worried about. Now, of all things.”

“That’s what you should be worried about,” you say, bringing a hand up to his hair, running through it with your fingers as you’ve wanted to for so long. “That, and walking me home, maybe.”

“I fully intend to do at least one of those things,” he says, landing a chaste kiss on your lips. “We have a lot to talk about, you know. Starting with me asking you out. Properly.” 

A hint of mischief appears in your smile. “Do well in your exam, and I’ll consider it.”

Chan pulls back, a familiar, confident smirk on his lips. “You have yourself a deal. But until then…”

“We’re still at a party,” you say, dodging his lips with a laugh, even though you really don’t want to. Not at all. “We can’t be that couple.”

He drops his forehead against yours. “We can be whatever the fuck we want. Nobody’s looking, anyway.”

And so you let him kiss you, again and again and again, until he walks you home, and does the same at your door, and the same in your living room. Over and over, making up for all the times he wanted to but couldn’t, he whispers. Your whole body softens at the weight of his hands, travelling the small of your back, cupping your cheek, squeezing your hips. His lips are on yours, and yours are on his, and everything makes sense. Everything adds up.

a/n: (yes another) i hate this so much but i think i’ve been dealing with it too long so im just going to. throw it out there. thank you for reading!!! i’d love to hear what you think!!!! hopefully i’ll venture into longfic more often <3

[adoregojo]

secret admirer.

hihihihihihihihi, i cannot believe i actually slept for two days in a row? wth? and also that i never did this kind of posts? im such a lazy bum mb yall, I promise I'll write a real fic soon. summary: bllk characters as your secret admirers: isagi, bachira, chigiri, reo. how they fell, what do they do, how did they confess.

isagi.y

him. just him.

you once held his shirt collar to stop him from planting flatly on the floor.

and when you walked away, you walked with his heart in your palms.

yea, just like that

but honestly, isagi himself didn't knew he was such a big sap inside

and the moment he realised you two shared a few classes was the second he almost kneeled and thanked the sky itself for this.

an absolute swoon from looking at your side profile.

he once was long gone within the abyss of daydreaming about you, he genuinely just couldn't look away.

then got called out by the teacher for being too distracted.

definitely prayed that you didn't see that.

writes your name unintentionally in his notebook.

gets so embarrassed about it later and rips the paper.

still dose it again the next day and almost ripped the whole book apart form cringing at himself.

he once was musing over you too much to the point that your name slipped out unwittingly on the dinner table.

his parents couldn't stop teasing him about it, wondering when they would see you walking down their house door.

leaves love notes in your locker almost everyday.

it's something short and simple like: "you look pretty today."

then when he goes home he'll realize how dumb that was because you literally look the prettiest everyday.

dumb, dumby.

takes time to make the first move though.

he just feels like you're way, farther away from his reach.

it's okay, he still considers himself lucky to be one of those who got admire you.

he just hoped you saw him behind all of them, even if it was a glance.

chigiri.h

omgg pretty boyyy

despite chigiri being a confident and self-reliant, the trigger words of his old injury was like a pulling a pin of a grenade to his still-raw sorrowness. something that'll always haunt him.

and what dose he dare to say when they were nothing but truthful? like a salt to his wounds, he tends to just take it and suck it up, or at least try to ignore it for his sake.

but everything flipped when you stood up for him.

from that moment on. chigiri knew that he was far a goner.

out of everyone here he's definitely the most romantic one.

reads all your favourite books and analysis it.

probably named a cat after you.

like isagi he writes love letters for you.

just a little too poetic..

it it's short then it's something like: "loving you is like breathing." or "i hope your days are filled with the same joy you give me with your existence only."

but mostly is: "my definition of love, i see the true meaning of living behind your hue of life. you shall lighten my soul with your existence alone, i was born to see you shin each day, witnessing you is a blessing from heaven itself. the day that i stop seeing you as the owner of the stars is the day my body shall vanish, yet my soul will know it way back to you. from your only and one your admirer."

what a lovesick clown.

he might be a smooth talker on the outside, but trust me the butterflies of sentimental keeps on swirling in his stomach on the sight of you.

told his mother and sister about you.

it was his biggest regrets.

because the next day his sister shouted your name in a demand for you to spend the night for the 'meeting of the future in law'.

he had to physically drag her back to the car, freaking embarrassing.

couldn't meet your eyes for a while after that.

wants to hold your hand.

like, really badly.

it's just that feeling your skin against his cold, pristine hands must've feel like the loveliest, cosiest thing.

the thoughts alone are making him go crazy.

he confessed first, just couldn't help himself.

he just hoped if you would go to the end of the world alongside with him.

bachira.m

the sunshine boy himself.

the definition of fell first AND fell harder.

it all started when the class was ordered to work as duo for a project, something he always despised.

you may say that because bachira was definitely not having the word 'smart' in his book, you'd be right actually.

but mainly since no one really wanted to group up with him.

it was embarrassing, to just sit there and wait to be picked was putting him under the lights that pointed him out as the most pitiful creature in the room.

then you pocked him on the shoulder, and asked him if he wanted to be your partner.

and when he didn't see the sarcasm reeking from you, he knew he tripped hard, and couldn't find it anywhere in his feet to back him up.

it was strange, bachira never had a company, let alone a crush.

but the signs were there, and were painfully vulnerable.

painted you in art class multiple times; you with a smile, you reading a book, you sniffing a sunflower.

maybe also you and him... holding hands or hugging...

stares at your face a way, way too long.

he tells himself it's to crave your features better and detailed.

even he doesn't believe that however.

he draws your eyes a lot.

his second favourite colour is your eyes hue.

he was never the best at writing romantic poems, and his hand writing is just........

so he insisted gets you a gift!

which is a rock.

yes you heard me, rock.

he would even paint a little face with a smile on it and leave it on your desk by the end of the day.

almost went bald from joy when you had it hanging as a small march on your bag.

and when you had a bad day, that goes unnoticed by him.

so imagine your surprise when you would find two pairs of rocks, one kissing the other who had a sad expression on it face.

that somehow that foster a blissful smile on your face. like that little action extinct any remains of the past negative you carried.

and bachira was more than happy to be the reason for your happiness.

definitely rambles about you to his mom.

and his monster.

he once ha a dream about you two smooching.

cried when he woke up because he wanted it to be real more than anything.

you two confessed first, at the same time.

and boy was he dancing on cloud nine at it.

he almost smooch you that moment and then.

reo.m

it's mister perfect everyone, cheer.

you fell first, he fell harder.

no, literally. you fell. tripped flat on the floor.

and somehow, that made the reo mikage heart move.

?????????

love at first (fall??) sight.

he definitely leaves a trail of gifts for you everywhere.

your chair, desk, locker, bag.

he switches between chocolate and flowers to letters and perfumes, necklaces, etc..

you say how he picked them?

easy, see something that reminds him of you, he buys.

and it's pretty foolish since he sees you in almost everything.

reo is convinced that you're within everything that shins beautifully.

he actually paid the teachers to let him be in the same classroom as you.

paid even more to get a seat next to you.

rip to whoever was sitting next to you.

he once heard that a guy was bothering you.

the next day the guy was the talking of school because he suddenly moved out of town due to his dad losing his job.

hm, must be karma then.

has a shrine of you.

but you didn't hear that from me.

talks about you none stop to nagi and ba-ya.

genuinely sobbed when he imagined you with someone else.

has a flight under your name.

made a makeshift doll of you so he can practice his confessions on.

had a mental breakdown of the idea of you rejecting him.

reo can the most horrible, miserable day to a human kind to live.

then he sees you smiling

BOOM

he's all happy and smiling again, also a little giddy.

you once greeted him good morning, the next day he was planing what ring would suit you the most.

had two planes to write on the sky: 'will you go out with me?' and your name next to it in a shade of a heart.

now, you definitely cannot reject that. (Please don't)

have a nice day everyone.

[formula1au]

home race

summary: it was the dutch gp that your boyfriend max verstappen won. After he saw you in his driver's room he couldn't resist you

pairing: max verstappen x gf!reader

content: fluff, smut!

warning: penetrative sex, riding, blowjob, finger sucking, no protection

word count: idk sorryyy

It was the Dutch GP, and you watched your boyfriend Max cross the checkered flag first. You knew he would win this. He's dominating the whole sport right now. He's also dominating you almost every minute in your life, but that's just him.

After he jumped out of the car, he ran to his team. They patted his back, and he looked so happy. But something was missing; he was searching for you. He quickly made his way to you and kissed you in front of the camera.

"Wait for me in the driver's room," he whispered into my ear with a smirk on his face.

I didn't even wait for the podium celebrations. I quickly walked to his driver's room and closed the door with a loud bang behind me. I was nervous and also so excited because every time he won his home grand prix, he made love to me so passionately. So it was a win for both of us. I waited for him for a long time. I forgot that he needed to do the press before he was free from all the media and work stuff. But the time finally came when the door opened and closed immediately. He locked it quickly and threw me a disappointed look.

"I thought it was clear that I wanted you naked and on your knees as soon as I arrived," he shook his head, clearly getting impatient.

"Are you deaf? Get to work," I started to undress. I didn't want him to be mad because then he would not let me climax.

After I was completely naked, he gestured for me to crawl to the couch. Max was already naked, and he looked so attractive. "Come on, baby. You're going to use that tongue of yours for something more useful," I nodded and sat between his legs. His erection was already hard and leaking.

Firstly, I teased him with gentle licks, but then I took him fully into my mouth. He started thrusting his hips into my mouth. Tears appeared in my eyes, and he seemed to enjoy it. After some time, he gripped my hair and pushed me onto his dick. My throat had never felt worse.

"Ugh, schatje, you're going to make me cum," he moaned and then pulled me off. "Open up," he said, and I opened my mouth for him to cum straight into it.

I needed release too, so I started touching myself and grinding onto the ground. Max immediately noticed. Of course, he did.

"Is my poor little baby getting all worked up?" He pulled me into his lap and thrust his fingers into me. I cried out from the unexpected stimulation on my clit. "You're going to cum on my fingers, and then I'm going to give you my cock, okay?" He asked, even though it wasn't even a question. I was his to do whatever he wanted with me.

I came pretty quickly when he even started sucking hickeys into my chest and pinching my nipples until they were all red and sensitive.

"I want your dick," I whined.

"What do we say when we want something? Where are your manners, liefje?" He stroked his dick and teased my entrance with his tip.

"Please, Maxie, I need it so badly," I cried out. My thighs were still trembling from the previous orgasm.

"There's my good girl again," he slammed me down onto his cock, holding me down. The burning sensation was so pleasurable.

"Come on, make yourself feel good on my cock and make yourself cum," he drew circles into my thighs as I started riding him.

Max whispered all sorts of dirty things into my ear. After I slowed down, he flipped me onto my stomach and started thrusting into me while stimulating my clit. I came with a shout of his name.

"That's it, y/n. You're literally milking me, baby. Look at that hole of yours taking me like a champ. I'm going to cum inside you," he mumbled, and then he came inside me with a loud groan.

"I'm pulling out, baby," he kissed my shoulder blade and pulled out. I felt his and my cum leaking out of me. He pushed one finger into my entrance and then sucked it clean.

"Do you want to taste yourself?" He did the same but put the finger into my mouth. I sucked his finger clean. Then I let myself collapse on the couch.

I heard some rustling behind me, so I turned onto my back and saw Max walking with a wet towel.

"I'm going to clean you," he kissed me and then cleaned me. "You need to go pee, baby." I stood up and walked into the small bathroom in his driver's room. I peed, washed my hands, and returned.

Max has already made the couch more comfortable. He walked towards me and picked me up. Then he laid me down and lay next to me. He put a cover on us.

"What about post-sex cuddles?" He asked with a smirk.

"Mhm, that sounds amazing," I giggled and snuggled into his warm skin.

"By the way, you did so well, Maxie. I didn't have time to tell you that," he laughs and kisses me on the head. "Thank you, schatje. I did it for you. And for my family. And for the fans." We laugh together, and then the room falls into peaceful quiet.

[skiiyoomin]

yk ur sending txt horny memes post 😊😊😊 I think u should turn them into drabbles 😊😊😊 have a great day 😊

ღThe aftermath of sending them horny memes

ʚCont: SMUT CONTENT, swearing, reader has female parts (in yeonjun and soobins part!!), cunnilingus, face sitting, blowjob

⤑Back to navigation ⤑The SMAU, Part 2

a/n your mind, its beautiful, i love you. p.s im gonna divide them in 2 posts so its not too long! Part 2 with Taehyun and Hueningkai will come tomorrow!

Yeonjun

His rough hands on your hips and warm tongue intertwining with yours had you going lightheaded with pleasure. A deep groan left his lips from the way your fingers tugged his hair and shot a painful yet pleasurable shudder down his spine.

"Fuck I missed you so much" He moaned between kisses, the feeling making you sigh out in bliss.

"Me too. You were on my mind all day" A possessive surge ran through his body as he slammed his lips back to yours. "Yeah? What was on your mind?"

"How good you make me feel" You giggle, your words slightly slurred. "Though about your tongue all over me, fucking me so good" Your filthy words went straight to his growing erection, making him growl and flip you over so you were on your back.

He didn't waste a second in slipping your clothes off, the fabric feeling far too hot on your heated body. A deep guttural groan resonanted from his throat at the sight of the wet spot in your panties. His lips trailed up your inner thighs until he reached your clothed cunt. It didn´t stop him from pressing his tongue flat against the wet stain, making you yelp and squirm underneath him.

The disruptive fabric was off before you could even begin to process it and your senses were overwhelmed with the hunger Yeonjun ate you out with. His tongue was relentless on your inner lips and the tip of his nose brushing against your clit, eliciting sweet moans from you.

The squelching and slurping from his tongue sounded so filthy yet so arousing to your ears that it had you pushing his head impossibly closer to your sex.

With his tongue moving in and out of your tight hole while his fingers pressed on your hard nub, the knot that was building up in your stomach was quick to snap. Your hips jerked upwards as you rode out your orgasm on his tongue.

If you thought you were going to get a break, you were wrong. His mouth latched onto yours once more, giving you a taste of your sweet essence. "I´m not done with you" He murmured between sloppy kisses as he began to lower his sweatpants. Despite still being sensitive from your previous orgasm, arousal pooled in your cunt immediately.

Soobin

Soobin was convinced this was what even felt like. Your plush thighs were on either side of his head while he stuck his tongue out to press it between your soaking slit. Your hands were tugging his hair, causing a stinging sensation in his scalp that felt so good. And with the way you were rocking your hips, using him to stimulate your pretty cunt, he couldn´t be a happier man.

"Soobin, ooo- shit. Mmmg- doing so good"

Your praise, between those beautiful moans, made his cock twitch. And as painfully hard as he was right now, his sole focus was on you. On licking and sucking your clit like a starved man deprived from your sweetness. He felt like one with how desperately he used his tongue to pull noises out of you.

Despite the aching in jaw he was sure would be sore for a few days, or the breathlessness he felt from inhaling your scent like it´s the only thing he needed in his lungs, he didn´t stop. He couldn´t stop. Not when you were so close.

"Mmm baby oh god m´ gonna cum"

You whine, your voice raising in pitch. He could feel it, the way your plush walls squeezed his tongue as he thrusted it up into you. He could feel how your thighs trembled from the effort you were making in holding yourself straight and not literally suffocate him, not like he´d mind.

His hand that was resting on your hip slid down to press the pad of his thumb on your clit, rubbing fast circles on it. With the vibrations of his moans, he quickly tipped you over the edge. Your body shuddered and shook accompanied by your loud whiny moans.

There was silence for a moment after you moved away from his face, which was soaking wet with your slick. He smiled innocently up at you.

"Round 2?"

"Fuck yeah"

Beomgyu

Technically, he brought this upon himself. Was he going to admit it? Absolutely not. He had way too much pride for that.

Currently, he was on his computer, clicking away on the keyboard while his eyes darted around the game on the screen. But...he wasn´t doing very well because his attention was truly elsewhere.

You were crouched under the desk, your hands on his thighs while your glossy lips wrapped around his cock. How could he concentrate on the game when your head was bobbing up and down his rock hard boner? But he was never going to admit that to you. Not when you had doubted him before and he very cockily shot your doubts down. He would never hear the end of it if he admitted defeat.

He bit down a groan that was threating to spill when your tongue slid around a particularly prominent vein on the underside of his cock. He cursed himself when his hips thrusted into your mouth out of pure instinct. You must definitely know by now how wrapped he is around your finger.

With the way his breathing was picking up and his stomach was clenching, once, twice. You got him where you wanted. The bright red letters of "YOU LOST" popped up on the screen, but Beomgyu wasn´t paying any attention. He placed his hand on the back of your head and forced his cock deeper down your throat. His hips grazed your nose as he picked his speed up, groans and dirty words making you clench your thighs together.

He pulled back when he felt his cock twitch, signaling his impending orgasm. You pushed his hands away to jerk his dick off yourself and lead the spurts of cum into your awaiting open mouth.

"Shiit baby, fuck you´re so good"

You licked the remnants off his tip, swallowing everything greedily. The sight was enough to get his cock hard again. He lifted you off the ground and sat you down on his lap.

"I think you deserve a prize for taking my cock so deep down your throat huh?"

[multifandomfanficss]

Don’t Stop My Heart

Tyler Owens x Reader

Prompt: You and Tyler take a road trip up to Iowa to catch some of the last tornadoes of the season, but he takes the teasing a little too far.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of car crashes, swerving, shitty ex boyfriends. No use of Y/N.

A/N: Hello! I didn’t proofread this one as many times as I usually do. I’m coming off a 4 and a half month writers block so I really just wanted to write and post while I was excited to do it. My job has been draining me as of late, so I’m trying to write when I get the impulse. I have so many Tyler ideas and no time to write them. Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

It was still fairly early, the sun was still rising. Last night you’d planned an impromptu trip up north to Iowa. It was about a 7 hour trip from Oklahoma, so you were on the road before 6. You were hoping to get there around noon. You didn’t love getting up that early, but Tyler promised he’d drive you and you could sleep in the truck. Tornado season was pretty much over aside from an isolated storm or two, but Iowa had been having very unusual storm activity all week. Tyler couldn’t resist hitting a couple more tornadoes in late August when the season was supposed to be pretty much over with.

You stayed awake for a little bit. You wanted to watch as you crossed into Missouri.

“Missouri welcomes you.” Tyler reads out loud.

“Yes! Finally!” You giggle.

“I didn’t realize you were such a big fan of Missouri.” Tyler comments.

“Oh, I’m not.” You pause, looking out your window.

“First you’re hypin’ her up, now you’re gonna disappoint her.” He jokes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure Missouri’s fine, but I’m more excited about that.” You point to a Hardee’s down the street.

“Really? We’re crossin’ state lines and you’re gonna make me take you to Hardee’s? You can get Carl’s Jr. anytime you want back home. That’s basically the same thing.” He argues.

“Take that back! You’re just saying that because you’re a Texas boy! You’ve never had the luxury of Hardee’s.” You joke.

“If Carl’s Jr. is better, I’m not letting you pick where we eat for the rest of the trip.” Tyler puts on his turn signal and sighs.

“How is that fair? I’ve never eaten at this location. What if it sucks?” You laugh.

“You picked your Hardee’s hill and now you’re gonna die on it. Now keep your trap closed and tell me what’s good on the menu.” Tyler makes a pretend threatening face towards you as he pulls into the drive thru.

“How am I supposed to not talk and at the same time tell you what’s good?” You tease back.

“Hi welcome to Hardee’s, may I take your order?” The drive thru speaker cuts you off. Tyler shushes you and you giggle.

After getting your food you start unwrapping the straws and putting them in both drinks.

“Whatever score we give this we need to give it extra points to account for how good the curly fries would be if they were serving lunch.” You try to bargain, taking a bite.

“No, you can’t just change the rules after we already got our food, that’s cheating. Just because you’re from the north, doesn’t mean you can cheat me.” He argues. He continues driving, leaving behind the paved roads of the small town.

“You’re acting like I’m Canadian!” You giggle.

“Well, Upper Midwest is basically Canada. There’s literally a town in Iowa called Toronto!” He smirks, taking the last bite of his food, continuing to drive through the middle of nowhere Missouri, back onto the gravel roads through the soybean fields.

“Shut up!” You playfully hit his arm. He jokingly swerves and your stomach flips. You gasp air. “Tyler, knock it off.”

“You’re the one who hit me.” He pleas innocent.

“I didn’t hit you that hard.” You defend.

“I thought you were gonna sleep on the drive.” He says, smirking.

“I might later, I’m not tired.” You answer, falling for his bit. He does a big fake yawn.

“Well if you’re not tired, I might take a little nap.” He lightly swerves again.

“Tyler, this isn’t funny!” You plead.

“What? Oh. Do you mind watching the road? We woke up so early and I’m pretty tired.” He jokes before swerving again. He’s taking the joke way too far. Once was one thing, twice was too much. You start hyperventilating.

“Tyler, STOP!” You yell, tears starting to come to your eyes.

“Woah woah woah, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.” He has a concerned look on his face. He knew he had taken it too far.

“It’s not funny.” You cry.

“You’re right, it’s not funny. I would never-a done it if I’d known it would make you feel unsafe. I do it all the time on chases and that don’t seem to bother you. I didn’t realize-“

“That’s different! The roads and the fields when there’s no storms are different! We’re on an actual road! What- what if there were other people?! What if you hit somebody?! What if a sherif saw?!” You say, obviously still panicking. Tyler decides to pull over.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I was way outta line, but we’re in the middle of nowhere. There’s no cars or tractors around. We’re safe.” His voice is soft. “Just breathe, Darlin’. Just you and me.” He takes your hand, rubbing small circles in it. “I feel bad. I wanted a reaction outta you, but not like this. I never want you to feel unsafe with me.”

“I know.” You were still struggling to breathe. Tyler places your hand on his chest to feel the rise and fall of his breathing. He hopes you can sync yours with his own.

“Take it easy, sweetheart. You’re okay. Feel me breathing? We’re both okay.” He places a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry… it’s not you. When I was in high school I had a crazy ex boyfriend who used to swerve in town just to scare me because he knew I was afraid of car crashes. He almost killed us a couple times, I think. I guess no matter how much time’s passed, dumb high school bullshit still affects me into my adult years.”

“Hey, that’s not okay. It’s not dumb bullshit. It’s trauma.” You lean over the console to be closer to him and he wraps his arms around you. “I would never put you in danger like that for the sake of a joke.” You could tell his blood was boiling on the inside, but he was trying to keep himself calm. He didn’t want to upset you more. He knew this was about you feeling better, not him.

“We gotta get going if we wanna try to make it by 1.” You wipe your tears.

“I don’t care how long we’re pulled over. Hell, we can even turn around if you’re not up to anymore. I don’t care about the chase. I care about you.” He moves your hair out of your face. “I can call the rest of the team and tell them to turn around right now or go without us.”

“What happened to Mr. If You Feel It, Chase It?” You joke, trying to lighten the mood. He looks into your eyes. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen him so serious.

“The only feeling that matters is the one I get when I’m with you.“

Tears start creeping up again. These tears aren’t bad, though.

“Tyler, I’m in love with you.” It just slips out, like the easiest confession you’ve ever made in your life. You both knew there was something there, but neither one of you were willing to say it. It had always been heavy flirting, awkward mornings after cuddling in the only bed left at the motel, a drunk kiss or two.

After a moment of staring in silence Tyler kisses you. Everything happened in slow motion, but in truth it was probably just the adrenaline slowing everything down. Tyler wasted no time in kissing you. It was the quickest decision he’s ever made. You don’t know how long the kiss was. Whatever it was, it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough. You’d swear off oxygen for the rest of your life if it meant this moment never had to end. You’d been pinning after your best friend for so long and finally the moment was here.

“I’m so glad you said something because you’re one of the best navigators I know and I really didn’t wanna risk losing you from the team by telling you I was in love with you.” Tyler laughs.

“Is that the only reason you didn’t tell me?” You ask.

“No, I was scared. Losing you from the team would be a bummer, but I couldn’t lose you from my life. We see a lot of loss in this business. Whenever I thought about it, the thing I couldn’t stand to lose most was you.” He runs his fingers through your hair, moving to cup your cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

It was nice to finally say it. You’d waited a long time to tell him.

“Let’s get back on the road. This time just don’t stop my heart.” You give a small laugh.

“You’re safe with me.”

“I know. You’re not like those other guys, Ty.”

You hold hands and rest on his other arm as he drives. He’s lucky he’s good at driving with one hand because he’s happy to see about 30 minutes later you’ve finally fallen asleep. Today was going to be a long day, but Tyler knew forcing the team to wake up so early was worth it. He may have had to bribe Boone 20 bucks to drive the other car up with Lily, but at least he didn’t have a third wheel sitting in the back seat. Tyler didn’t get a lot of alone time with you. Now he had 7 hours of it. It was worth it.

[lymtw]

hi! omg I just have to tell you that you literally write Toji so well. If you’re taking requests, (if not then so sorry disregard!) may I request something where Toji accidentally hurts reader during sex and how he reacts? Or maybe pushes a boundary or something? Thank you so much! If this doesn’t interest you sorry!

A/N: Hello, hello 😊 Thank you for reading my works! I'm so glad to hear that enjoy the way I write this hunk of a man 🥰🫶🏼

Thank you for sending in this request 💙

It was one of those nights where things were calm and quiet, until Toji got home from a job that took up most of his day. His footsteps were heavy on the floor, his adrenaline was still high, and all he wanted was you, after a day that seemed never ending.

He greeted you like he usually does on days like this, with a weary, 'hey, doll' and a kiss that doesn't last too long, because he's aware of how he reeks of sweat and he feels filthy. He vented a little bit about his day, finally getting to verbalize his frustrations about the client's unprofessionalism and the snarky attitude that he had to deal with all day. The not so subtle sigh he let out afterwards, told you everything. You would have to give him a little extra love once he got out of the shower, to remind him that there will never be ruthlessness in any way, shape or form, similar to what he sees outside, when he comes home. You'll always be his solace, there to take care of him, even before things get too heavy for him to bear on his own.

Toji had different plans for the night. He came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets still gliding down his chest and rolling down his abdomen. You thought maybe he forgot to grab clothes, but that theory was immediately shut down when he unwrapped the towel and started running it up his body to dry himself a little more.

You flipped onto your stomach on the bed, your attention going to your phone as you wait for him to finish getting ready for bed.

"Since when are you shy about ogling me?" Toji asks, after a few seconds, a smirk decorating his face as he rakes his eyes over your backside.

You craned your neck to look at him, and he still wasn't dressed. "I'm not. Just thought it'd be a quick swoop of you getting your clothes on, so I naturally turned around."

He hums. "And if I decide to sleep like this, tonight?"

You shrug. "By all means. If you're comfortable, i'm not gonna stop you."

You never thought you'd have to go back on your word. He was comfortable. Very much so, but you weren't, anymore. It started out as something similar to what you had planned. You were affectionate with him, planting sweet kisses onto his face and lips, which he returned. It really was a loving moment, even when his hands started roaming, grabbing at your chest and teasing you through your underwear. It was still loving when he bared you, pulling off your shirt and kissing your exposed skin, your shorts and underwear being tugged off in the process.

What started out as a gentle lovemaking session, with quiet gasps and hums of pleasure, transitioned into something less delicate. His hips picked up a feral pace that ripped orgasms from both of you, sensitivity being the only thing he slowed down for. Heavy, audible breathing, gasps that sounded like you had the wind knocked out of you and cries, took the place of noises that were once light and controllable—volume-wise.

You felt like you were being used—like he saw you as something insentient, in that moment. Rough sex with him wasn't new, but this was something else, entirely. Everything was starting to hurt in an unpleasant manner. Your abdomen felt sore from how much it tensed each time you came, your thighs burned from being pinned to your chest for so long, and the actual movement of his cock drilling into your abused cunt was starting to bring on some tenderness.

"T-Toji," you call, through a huff. He couldn't hear you over the lewd sounds of skin on skin and his own sounds of pleasure. "Toji," you try again, your voice still coming out meekly. "Please, can we..." you whimper. "Can we pause?"

"Pause?" He grunts, not stilling. "You want me to stop? I'm close, again, baby. Just a little more."

You wanted to last for him. You wanted to let him have this last one, but you couldn't do it. It was too much to endure, and though it was terrifying to say the word, again, for the first time in a while, you had to put an end to it. It was for the best.

"Safe, Toji! Safe! Safe!" You used as much strength as you could to get your legs down, accidentally kicking him in the process. Toji got off of you immediately, his heartbeat doubling its pace— a mixture of his exertion and the sound of your very rarely used safe word, being shouted out. "S-Sorry, i'm sorry!" You choke out, apologizing for the accidental strike. There was guilt in there as well, for killing his pleasure.

He catches his breath before responding to you, not wanting to sound like a panting dog as he communicates the matter with you.

"What are you saying 'sorry' for?" He asks, eyes darting over your frame, watching as you scramble to cover yourself up with the blanket. "No, baby. Don't do that." He leans down to pick up the towel he let fall to the floor, before climbing into bed with you, and drapes it over his lap.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. You felt vulnerable, unable to look at Toji, even when you could feel his gaze on you.

"You okay?" He asks, looking at your twinkling eyes and the stifled quiver of your lips.

"It's okay," you say, your voice wavering. "It's fine." You glance at him, crossing your arms over your chest beneath the blanket.

"I asked if you're okay. Answer that first."

The room went quiet as you tried to compose yourself. The lump in your throat got more uncomfortable by the second. Your stomach ached from the soreness of your abdominal muscles and from holding in your emotions, for the sake of putting up a strong front that Toji never asked for. He was being genuine and his eyes wouldn't leave your face. He could see you holding it together, poorly.

"It was just a lot... and it was starting to hurt. I just- I needed a break." You swipe the knuckle of your index finger beneath your eye, frustrated by the cool dampness left behind on your skin.

"Okay, and what was that 'sorry' for?" He asks. He wants to hold onto some part of you, to hopefully soothe you a little bit, but he's not sure if you want to be touched by him, right now.

"You didn't get to finish and I kicked you. It was an accident, I swear. I didn't mean to do that. You know I would never hit you, Toji." Your eyes welled up, again. You thought about how you want to make him feel as safe as he makes you feel.

"It didn't hurt me one bit, ma. You barely even touched me, so drop the guilt on that. Also, do you not feel and see the mess we made?"

It's impossible not to. You're both sweaty, the sheets are damp with the juices that flowed out of you and his cum still resides in you—warm and slowly drooling out.

"I'm more than satisfied. I was getting greedy with you, huh?"

You nod your head, giving him a small, weary smile.

He sighs, no trace of disappointment or being let down. If there's anything to be upset over, it's the fact that you apologized for something you were faultless about. He can't bring himself to be firm with you about it, right now. You still did exactly what you were supposed to by using the safe word. As for the guilt that lingered around having to use it, that's a long conversation reserved for a more appropriate time.

"Are you okay?" He asks, again. "Be honest."

"A little sore, but i'm okay," you respond, lifting the blanket up over your chest, again.

"Mm, okay. Stay here." He wraps the towel that rests on him, around his waist. "Don't go anywhere, alright?" The corners of his lips lifted, earning another smile from you before he's off to the bathroom. He grabs a towel and uses hot water to dampen it, knowing that by the time he gets back to you, it'll be warm.

He ran the towel all over you, a simple wipe down, for now, so that you would feel a little cleaner and wait to shower until morning.

His gaze is soft as it trails behind the movement of his hand. This is an act of love for the one who cares about him more than anyone else, meaning his touch is as gentle as can be, like he's mending deeper wounds.

When he got to the most sensitive part, he was especially careful. He was very attentive, dabbing the towel against you, his eyes flitting between what his hands were doing and your face to make sure he wasn't hurting you. You winced a few times, and each time he pressed a kiss to your thigh—a silent apology.

Afterwards, the sheets were pulled off the bed and tossed aside to be washed, along with the blanket. Only the comforter stayed so that you wouldn't have to sleep on the bare mattress. You both got dressed, staying light in clothes for comfort. Even without a blanket, you wouldn't be cold for a second through the night, because Toji clung onto you. He held you tight and murmured sweet nothings into your ear, until all you could do was hum tiredly in response, eventually falling asleep.

[giuseppe-yuki]

pr videos

logan sargeant x hawk shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 1.2k

warnings: a few curse words, one suggestive innuendo

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: you join logan while he is doing his pr videos for williams

picture credits from pinterest :)

from your perch on the VCARB building, you could see your boyfriend on the roof of the williams building, filming a pr video. with your acute vision that allowed you to see over half a mile away, you could see the strands of his blonde hair waving in the wind, the way the sleeves of his williams team kit stretched over his arm muscles, the shine of his blue-green eyes in the sun, and even the light stubble on his chin. oh, and alex was there too, but why would you look at him when your perfect boyfriend was standing right there? 

you technically weren’t supposed to be sitting on a pipe next to a big ass poster of daniel riccardo’s face on the VCARB roof, but you were getting a little hungry. less than an hour ago, logan had left you in the hotel room, explaining that him and alex were filming pr videos all day and didn’t want you to be waiting in the hot sun. it didn’t hurt spying a little bit on them. besides, you were blending in, because in austin, texas there was always a shit ton of hawks for some reason. 

shaking yourself out of your logan-induced trance, you peer over at alex and see him holding a- piece of tomato? in logan’s hands are some tongs and a metal spatula, making you realize he is currently flipping burgers in front of a smoking grill. great, you think, williams has your boyfriend playing the typical american again. before you can continue your line of thought, your stomach grumbles, so you immediately spread your wings and jump off the building. there’s no harm in capitalizing off of logan’s americanness, you suppose.

gliding smoothly towards the williams roof, you hear logan talking fighting for his life trying to defend himself.

“mate, look at my burger compared to yours! its way better. look at the cheese, the lettuce, the tomato, the juicy meat! your patty is literally burnt and you don’t even have lettuce in your burger! that’s a literal crime.”

“you don’t even have lettuce in your burger” alex mocks. “whatever logan, you’re so american!” 

you can tell the banter between them is playful, both of them shooting pointed remarks at each other as the timer countes down. they're filming an alex vs logan burger challenge, you speculate. 

when you see your chance, you fly at full speed towards the pair, and snatch logan’s burger right off of his plate. clutching the burger in your claws, you circle back and plant yourself on an expensive-looking linen sofa. you give the burger a few experimental pecks. perfectly cooked, and honestly, really good. 

the camerawoman, several members of the williams crew, and both alex and logan’s pr managers all stare at you from behind the camera in surprise, mouths open. alex lets out a sound of pure shock, but his eyes show a little bit of recognition. perhaps logan has mentioned you to alex before? logan, however, looks at you with a small smile and a singular eyebrow raised. 

“mate,” alex starts, “is that your g-” 

logan immediately cuts him off. 

“wow, that was so weird! my burger looked so much better than yours, a real-life american hawk swooped in just to try it.” 

as if coming to her senses, the camerawoman steps in to redirect the focus of the video. “we are totally keeping that in. that was so fucking cool.” she exclaims. she turns around to her camera, and fiddles with it for a little bit before turning back towards you, logan and alex. “by the way, note to the video editor, logan totally won that one. the hawk really sealed the deal.”

“baby there is no way you just did that,” logan says, closing the hotel room door. 

you were lying in a cocoon of sheets with on the giant bed, having flew back to your balcony suite a couple hours ago. 

he takes off his shoes before continuing, “after you flew away, i had to spend over half an hour explaining to the williams crew members that no, i did not somehow summon you using my americanness and burger cooking powers, then fifteen minutes conversing with alex about planning a hangout with him and his girlfriend- who by the way is a cockatiel shapeshifter- and then fourty-five minutes leaving the paddock because i was stopped every two seconds by yet another person who wanted to ask if a hawk did actually steal my burger.” 

you can’t help but to start laughing. “awe i’m sorry logan, i was just a little hungry and i wanted to go see you!” you say in between giggles.

logan leaps onto the bed on top of you and wraps you into a warm hug. “fine, i forgive you. only because i love you,” he says earnestly. he pauses before continuing, “and also because you gave me a great truth to tell for two truths and a lie,” prompting you to burst into laughter again. he puts a well-placed kiss on your cheek. “so what do you want to do next?”

you look into his eyes, a few inches away from yours, and whispers into his ear. “i’m feeling… a little hungry.” 

logan peels himself off of you, and walks towards the hotel room phone.

“i know exactly who to call.” 

later, you find yourself sat in front of the most mouthwatering, scrumdiddlyumptious layout of texas barbeque, coleslaw, and cornbread. god, you loved logan so much. 

the next day, you find yourself in a similar position as the day before. this time, you are perched on a tree on the edge of a beautiful lake. you watch in amusement as logan and alex struggle to put bait on the hook of their fishing rods. logan seemed to have a little bit more luck spearing the worm onto the end of his fishing rod. 

“this is so rigged.” you hear alex complain to the gopro set up in front of him. “logan clearly got a bigger worm than me so its easier to put on and plus, he probably has ages of experience from fishing when he was younger!” 

it was yet another pr video day, but this time williams had them out in the middle of a lake- fishing for content. ‘don’t come back until you caught a fish,’ you had heard the team member jokingly say to the williams drivers as they launched off the dock. currently, it seemed as if alex and your boyfriend were taking his words seriously.

thirty minutes later, both of them were still stuffed in bright red lifejackets sitting in the middle of the lake. it seemed the cameramen that were filming them from a separate boat were having more luck them them, as they had a few minnows swimming in a bucket compared to logan and alex’s zero. 

you swoop down from your tree branch and use your ability to see uncannily well to spot a big bass swimming below you. lighting quick, you snatch it up in your claws and fly toward the williams boat. 

this time, the cameramen see you before logan, and all point their cameras excitedly at you, no doubt getting some high quality content for their upcoming video. 

you drop the still-wriggling bass onto logan’s lap, and perch proudly at the tip of the boat. 

“why thank you birdy,” logan says to you, giving you a big smile. he turns to alex, fighting the urge not to laugh. “i guess i win this challenge yet again.” 

alex wears a smug smile back though. “i just had my birdy go catch me a fish too.” he says, pointing his nose in the air. as if right on cue, a gray and yellow cockatiel whips past you, and drops a mosquito fish in alex’s lap.

logan takes one look and bursts into laughter.

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin@ale-522@formula1-motogpfan@aceyalonso@my0hmary @mbappebby

[theemporium]

[3.5k] luke hits the west coast for his first long roadie of the season with some unsettling feelings about leaving jersey for so long. who would have thought his biggest problem on the road would end up being looking at his caller id over the actual hockey games he was playing? (smut)

series masterlist

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hockey boy: u up?

Luke Hughes had never felt like more of a fuck boy than he did the moment he had sent the text—which was ironic when he was quite literally the opposite of a fuckboy.

He hadn’t even meant for it to come across that way. Genuinely, he did not.

Despite being officially in the NHL for over a month now, this was the first time Luke was going on a roadie across the country whilst wearing the New Jersey red on his back. Most of their away games had been in nearby cities, where they would maybe spend a day or two in another city before returning to Jersey. 

But this was the longest one yet—a full ten days in the west coast for games against San Jose, LA and Anaheim. 

He wanted to say it wasn’t a big deal, that he was used to the life of hockey taking him to new cities and states. But things were different in the NHL. The stakes were higher, the games meant more even this early in the season, things just felt a lot more intense.

But it felt stupid to confess as much to his brother or any of the other boys when he literally played in the playoff games last season, when the stakes were the Cup. 

However, Luke couldn’t shake off the weird intensity of the roadie. He played off Jack’s concerned looks with some bullshit excuse that he was tired, that he was just struggling to sleep these days. It didn’t wave away his older brother’s concern but it got him off his back for a little bit. It let Jack focus on a different concern and not the real reason (that felt borderline childish to admit) that he felt on edge about leaving Jersey for so long. 

And it meant that Luke was laying in the hotel room alone whilst Jack was out with some of the other guys on the team for dinner, embracing the one free evening they had before the game tomorrow against San Jose. 

He had flipped through a variety of shows on the tv and scrolled through endless apps on his phone before he gave in, his finger hovering over the send button before he clicked it.

It hadn’t even hit him how his text sounded until your reply came through a few moments later. 

cherry🍒: damn hughes

cherry🍒: you gonna ask me what i’m wearing next?

His cheeks instantly burned hot, something quite like embarrassment and awkwardness bubbling in the pit of his stomach. 

At least it was hard to focus on the upcoming games when he was too busy thinking about the quickest ways to flee the country and change his identity. 

hockey boy: absolutely not 

Luke’s fingers moved fast on the screen, already drafting up a second message when your reply came through. 

cherry🍒: rude :( 

cherry🍒: maybe I had something special on for you 

And that was enough to make his brain go blank, the sentence he was in the middle of typing long forgotten as he stared at the words on his screen. He almost felt guilty how quickly his imagination came up with images of you back on his bed, just like his birthday party, in something short and sexy and—

He almost dropped his phone on his face when it began buzzing in his hand, scrambling to sit up in his bed as he answered. 

“H-Hello?” He cleared his throat, his face burning warmer when he heard your laugh on the other side. 

“You sound a little caught off, Hughes,” you teased, lighthearted and playful. “Did I interrupt something?” 

“I—no!” Luke exclaimed, though something inside him relaxed when you laughed again. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean for it to come off like that. I swear. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“I didn’t think so considering it’s been five minutes since my last message and you hadn’t replied yet. Not really setting the mood there.” 

He shook his head, his lips twitching upwards. “So you’re saying you’re not wearing something special for me?” 

“Unfortunately not. Just some sweats and a hoodie.” 

“Hm,” Luke hummed before frowning, taking a quick glance at the time on his phone before he swore under his breath. “Shit, I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

You laughed and something in his chest tightened as he imagined the soft smile on your face as you did so. “No, I couldn’t get to sleep. I was just watching some random episode of The Vampire Diaries before you called.”

Luke blinked. “The what?” 

You fell silent for a moment. “Tell me you’re joking.” 

He paused as well before he spoke in the most unconvincing voice. “I’m joking?” 

“Forget watching it, how have you never heard of it?!” 

“I don’t know!” Luke defended weakly, shuffling back further against the pillows. “Is this your subtle way of telling me to watch it?”

“No!” 

He frowned. “No?”

“I want to watch it with you. I want to see your reactions.” 

Luke snorted but he didn’t disagree, something fond and warm bubbling in the pit of his stomach at your insistence. “Fine, deal,” he mused. “But it would have at least given me something to do.” 

“Wow, is Jack that boring of a roommate?” 

He laughed. “Nah, he went out with some of the other guys for dinner.” 

“You didn’t feel like joining?” 

“Not really,” he admitted. 

“How come?” 

“Just…didn’t feel like it,” he said, his fingers tugging on the drawstrings of his hoodie as the spiralling thoughts began to creep in again. Like a reminder he wasn’t just lying on his bed back in Jersey talking away to you on the phone, that he was actually on the other side of the country. 

And it seemed like you sensed his reluctance, the shift in his voice like he seemed distant and you wanted to pull him back in.

“So you try to sext me instead?” Your voice was playful and taunting and he could imagine the smirk on your face so clearly. 

“Shut up,” he groaned, his cheeks burning once again. “I didn’t—”

“You so did.”

“That was not my intention at all,” he retorted. 

“Damn, Hughes, didn’t take you for a phone sex kind of a guy?” 

Luke could only thank some superior being above that it wasn’t a facetime call, that you couldn’t see how bad he was blushing. “I am neither a sexting or phone sex kind of guy.” 

“Boo, it’s more fun than you would think.” 

His nose scrunched up. “I don’t know.” 

“Don’t knock it until you try it, Luke.”

…

Despite being in two very different states, Luke had found himself on the phone with you most nights of the roadie so far.

It wasn’t really a co-dependent thing, like Jack liked to tease him about when he caught Luke waiting for your message saying you were free to call after the game in LA. It was a similar feeling he had with his friends back in Michigan or his brothers, this strong urge to tell you things. He wanted to share it with you, he wanted to tell you about something stupid Jack did in the locker room or the weird drink Curtis smuggled him at dinner. 

And in turn, he wanted to hear about your day too. He wanted to hear about how the nice barista at the coffee shop on the way to work gave you a free cookie because she fucked up your order by accident. He wanted to hear about the way your upstairs neighbour had taken up tap dancing and seemed to only find eleven o’clock at night the most appropriate time to practise. He just wanted to hear you talk. 

Luke was at least self-aware enough to realise he was being a bit insane with the phone calls every night when he was only gone for over a week. But day six into a ten day roadie and he just kind of wished he was chilling on your couch when listening to these stories rather than a nondescript hotel room he shared with his brother with limited privacy. 

However, the phone calls had become such a routine over the last few days that he didn’t even think twice when he picked up his buzzing phone, answering and putting it on speaker as he walked towards his suitcase in only a towel. 

“Hey, I’ve been waiting for your call,” Luke said, an easy smile on his face as he quickly grabbed some clothes to change into after his shower. 

“Really? I didn’t realise you missed me that much. I miss you too, dude.” 

Luke froze, his eyes widening as he snapped his gaze back towards his phone. He quickly grabbed it off his bed, letting out a soft ‘fuck’ when he realised it was Ethan, not you. 

“Luke? You still there?” 

“Uh yeah,” Luke cleared his throat. “Sorry, I just came out of the shower. So, uh, what’s up?” 

“I caught the game, just wanted to make sure you were alright. Looked like a tough game but you were killer out there, bud.” 

He paused, his lips twitching upwards. “You watched the game?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, dude. The boys watch every game we can. Our boy is in the big leagues! We gotta support you.”

“I didn’t know,” he admitted, his chest tightening a little.

“We miss you on the team, gotta get our fix somehow,” Ethan joked, lighthearted and playful. 

And yet, Luke felt a wave of guilt wash over him. Despite flying out for his birthday party, he hadn’t really been messaging the boys back in Michigan as much as he should have. He knew they were also giving him space to settle into the NHL lifestyle and they were busy with classes and such, but his own surprise from Ethan calling confirmed enough that he needed to reach out more. 

“I miss playing with you guys too,” Luke confessed, and it was true. He loved the Devils and he loved living out his dream but a small part of him itched to be back on the ice with his UMich boys again. 

“Yeah but you never threw us around like that.” 

Luke let out a groan, ignoring Ethan’s laughs. “I didn’t mean to knock him over like that, it was just the momentum!” 

Ethan’s laughs only got louder. 

…

It was the night before the Anaheim game when Jack had all but bolted out the room, muttering something about hanging out with Trevor and that he would be back before dinner. 

In all honesty, Luke didn’t question it much. He just waved his brother off, saying he was going to have a small nap before he started getting ready for whatever restaurant Trevor had booked for them (assuring that it would fit their diet plan but Luke wasn’t convinced). Between the travelling and training on the road, Luke found himself more exhausted than he was from back-to-back games in Jersey.

And he genuinely was going to nap until his phone buzzed with a message from you and he found himself dialling your number before he could help himself. 

“A call already? You didn’t even give me a chance to try sexting you.” 

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t see what the point is.” 

“I like hearing you get all flustered and nervous.” 

“Yeah but it’s not really the same thing, is it?” He commented, running a hand through his curls before tugging his hood back over his head. “Surely it’s just a bit…awkward.” 

“It can be hot if you do it right,” you corrected him. “Personally, I think phone sex is better but it can be fun to sext too. Like a thrill, you know?” 

“Yes because nothing sounds sexier than talking about sex,” he mused.

“It’s not like that,” you laughed, shuffling around on the other side of the phone. “Think of it like…foreplay.” 

His brows furrowed together. “In what way?” 

“You aren’t together but you’re telling each other what you would want to do if you were. What you wish you could be doing. And you’re listening to it all, listening to them get off to your words.” 

Luke swallowed harshly. “It still sounds awkward.” 

There was a pause on the other side. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he breathed out, shifting a little in his spot. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to facetime them and see them?” 

“It’s about using your imagination, Luke,” you hummed, sounding amused by his grasp on phone sex. “It’s about taking the scraps of what they tell you and letting your brain run wild with it.” 

He let out an unconvinced hum.

“Still sceptical?”

“Maybe.” 

There was a small pause before you spoke again. “You’re alone, right?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Luke nodded, even if you couldn’t see him. “Jack won’t be back for another few hours so—”

“So you can be a good boy for me?” 

His brain went blank.

“C’mon, Luke.” He could almost hear the smirk in your voice. “Remember what we said about words?”

“Yeah,” he let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, I can be…good.”

“I know you can, you’re always so good f’me,” you commented, so nonchalant and casual like your worlds didn’t make his heart beat a little faster. “Tell me what you’re doing right now.” 

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. “I’m lying in bed, talking to you. But you know that—”

“What are you wearing?” 

Luke glanced down at himself, the Devils branded hoodie and UMich sweatpants hardly the sexiest of outfit choices but he muttered out his response regardless. “Isn’t that the exact line you teased me about earlier?” 

“You telling me you’re wearing something special just for me?” 

He snorted, despite himself. “Hardly.” 

“That’s fine. You look better without anything anyway. A shame you’re all the way in California, would’ve been nice to have you all to myself.”

He gulped. “Is this where I use my imagination to guess what you’d do to me?” 

“If you want,” you said, laughing softly and it almost felt like you were right there beside him. “Or I could tell you how I miss hearing those pretty noises you make when you come, the little moans you let out when I touch you.” 

“Shit,” he muttered. “How do you just say those things so…easily?” 

“Because I know what I like and I’m confident with saying what I want. And I really like making you come, you’re always so sweet. You get so blushy and shy, it’s cute. I could only imagine what you’d be like when I get my mouth on you.”

Luke squirmed, his hand reaching down to press down on the length of his cock like it would ease the way he was twitching at her words. 

“Would you like that, Luke?”

“Y-Yeah,” he breathed out, nodding even if you couldn’t see him.

“Bet you would look so pretty, all shy and nervous to touch me even if you wanted to,” you continued, his eyes fluttering shut like he could pretend you were really in the room with him, like you were really whispering all of this in his ear. “But I would want you to, Luke. I would wanna feel your hands in my hair, wanna see you take control.” 

“I would,” he mumbled out, his hand slowly stroking himself over his sweatpants as he imagined it. As he imagined being sat on your couch, with you kneeling between his legs and your eyes glued on his reactions. It made his whole body feel hot and flustered. 

“Yeah, baby? You’d take control? Fuck my mouth?” 

He was almost embarrassed by the noise he let out.

“Are you touching yourself right now? Letting your imagination fill in the blanks?” 

“Mhm,” he nodded. 

“Good, baby, good. Keep touching yourself, keep making yourself feel good.”

“Wish it was you,” he managed to mutter out, his cock straining under the fabric of his boxers and sweatpants. However, any embarrassment or lingering awkwardness was long gone as he pushed them down to his knees, not even bothered to kick them off as he got his hand on himself. 

“Yeah? Me too, baby. I wish I was with you now, could watch you squirm and beg f’me with your dick down my throat.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, squeezing the base of his cock as he tried to mimic the night of his birthday, to mimic the feeling of your hand on him instead. “That’s…vulgar.”

You laughed, and it shouldn’t have been so hot to him but it was. “Too much? You don’t want me to talk about how badly I wish that it was you touching me right now?”

“You’re touching yourself right now?” It was almost a wheeze, like the air had been knocked out of his lungs and it hadn’t even hit him until that moment that you were in the same position as him. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, all sweet and high-pitched and it reminded him of the noise you made just before you came on his fingers. “If I was more patient, I would’ve got a toy. Would’ve felt way better.” 

“Toy?” He rasped. 

“Jealous?” You teased, unaware of the way Luke turned his head to the side, biting down on his pillow to hold back his groans as he continued to stroke himself. “I’ll show you when you’re back.” 

“Show me on yourself?” 

“I can use them on you too, pretty boy, if you could handle it.” 

“I…could,” he muttered out, listening to the breathy, moany laugh on the other side of the phone.

“We’ll see,” you hummed. “Maybe I’ll send you a video for your next roadie. Keep you occupied while you’re away.”

“Nuh uh,” he bit out, shaking his head. “This. I like this. I like hearing your voice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he repeated, his stomach twisting as his thumb swiped over the head of his cock and rubbed the small bead of precum along his slit. “S’close.” 

“Come f’me, wanna hear you come.”

It was a bit of a mindfuck if Luke was completely honest with himself. The pleasure running down his spine, leaving his body hot and heavy and just as good as it did when he was with you didn’t make sense to him. Listening to the little breathy moans and whines you let out when he came all over his hand, as he listened to you get yourself off shouldn’t have made his dick twitch so soon. He shouldn’t have been able to make himself come so hard just from some dirty talk from you, and yet he had. 

Though, Luke didn’t have a lot of explanations when it came to the way you made him feel.

“You still there?” 

“Yeah,” he hummed, his eyes still shut as he laid on the bed, practically melting into the sheets beneath him. “Kinda need that nap now.”

You snorted. “You should clean up before you fall asleep.” 

“Five minutes,” he murmured out, a lazy smile on his face as your laugh echoed through the phone.

…

He was rushing to button up his shirt when his phone rang again. 

He was already running late for the reservations Trevor made for dinner (if the constant stream of messages from Jack was telling him anything) and his nap lasted longer than he expected. But he couldn’t bite back his smile as he reached for his phone, his thumb already swiping to answer the call as he rummaged through his suitcase to find his cologne. 

“You’re out of luck if you’re wanting to go for a round two,” Luke mused once the call had connected, an odd wave of confidence in his voice as he spoke. 

“Round two of what?” 

Luke froze, yanking his phone away from his ear to see Quinn’s name on his screen. He let out a muttered ‘what the fuck’ under his breath, an odd sense of deja vu from his phone call with Ethan washing over him before he quickly answered his eldest brother. 

“Uh, nothing,” he laughed off, resisting the urge to yank on his own hair after he had spent the better part of the last fifteen minutes trying to make his curls look presentable. “Just some…exercise challenge thing Jack and I were trying out.” 

“And you think he would call you about it? Aren’t you two together right now?” 

“Yes. No!” Luke shook his head at himself. “No, he’s in Nico’s room right now.” 

“I thought you were getting dinner with Trevor?” 

“Right,” Luke laughed once again, awkward and strained. “We are. He just…had to tell Nico something first. You know Jack! Just…always attached to Nico’s hip.”

There was a moment of silence before Quinn spoke again. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“I feel great, actually! Speaking of, I need to go so I’ll call you later. Okay, great, bye!” 

He slammed the small red button until the call disconnected, throwing his phone down on his bed and letting out a long, deep sigh. He really needed to start looking at his phone before answering calls, it was getting a bit ridiculous. 

Luke finished getting ready, shoving some shoes on and making his way towards the elevator as he began typing out a message before slipping his phone into his pocket, already preparing himself for Jack’s whining about how late he is by the time he reached the lobby.

hockey boy: remind me to give you a personalised ringtone when i’m back in jersey

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