#so hopefully he fixed that in the published work

[sailoryooons]

Knocked | ksj | (m)

☾ Pairing: Streamer!Seokjin x f. reader

☾ Summary: Living with people is difficult, but all things considered, your new roommate isn’t terrible. He cooks, he cleans, and if you had to be honest - incredibly attractive. But his habit of streaming until the early hours of the morning while yelling and making other questionable noises has pushed you to the limit. You’ve finally decided to risk your sanity and put it all on the line with a reckless bet in hopes of getting some peace and quiet at night.

☾ Word Count: 10,673

☾ Genre: Roommates to lovers, smut, humor

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Cheesy humor, Jin is an annoying gamer, a lot of game talk, stupid bets, explicit language, references to an ungendered ex partner, a very cheesy plot i like cheese, jin crossing a boundary but he apologizes okay!!! sexually explicit content including oral (m. receiving) vaginal fingering, nipple play, a lot of body fluids like a loooot of spit and drool, protected vaginal sex, fast sex because they’re both overwhelmed and honestly this is vanilla but they are CUTE!!!!

☾ Published: January 19, 2023

☾ A/N: SHE IS HERE AND SHE ISN’T BEAUTIFUL OR EDITED BUT SHE IS FINISHED AND CHEESY AND THIS JIN IS REALLY CUTE OKAY. My inner gamer went fucking nuts in this I am so sorry I really like playing Apex Legends and I got too deep into the game lore so hopefully people can appreciate that. These two were just thirsty for each other and both busted nuts quickly okay it has happened to me jgdhgijhd thats tmi okay HAPPY READING.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Room for Rent Collab

A crash and a yell startle you in the kitchen, the spatula in your hand clattering into the egg pan as Seokjin lets out an unintelligible string of cursing and yelling. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you try and center yourself in patience. It’s not uncommon in your apartment for two to hear him suddenly break out into yelling, and it surely won’t be the last. 

Kim Seokjin isn’t the worst roommate. Not by a longshot, when you consider the horror stories you’ve read in Reddit threads and seen on TikTok. He’s clean, he has an aesthetic eye for decoration, he’s an amazing cook, he pays his portion of bills on time, and he doesn’t steal food. Nor does he hog any of the common spaces in the house.

The negative? Seokjin is constantly gaming, which wouldn’t be a bad thing if he gamed quietly. Namjoon hadn’t warned you that Seokjin was a large-scale streamer before you moved in, focused on first-person shooter content and paid tournaments. 

It had taken about three hours into moving in when he screamed for you to realize that there was no fixing that bit. 

Meal finished and plated, you move to the dining room, sitting cross-legged in the chair and turning on the TV louder than necessary to tune out Seokjin’s hollering. You’ve come up with plenty of ways to tune him out, and listening to everything else on extreme volume is the easiest. 

Your neighbors must hate you. 

Halfway through your meal and eyes glued to RuPaul’s Drag Race, Seokjin comes trailing out of his room, drawing your attention. It isn’t a hard thing to do. For a grown man who is chronically wired to his PC, he is beautiful. The kind of beauty that is used in dramas and romantic comedies kind of beautiful. 

Dark, soft hair that is usually left shaggy and air-dried from the shower but you know looks dashing styled back for parties, equally dark eyes that shimmer with delight when he tells a horrible joke that he thinks is particularly amusing, full lips that would earn the envy of Aphrodite herself - Seokjin is painfully, artfully perfect. 

Except for the constant gaming. 

“Wow, didn’t offer to make me breakfast?” he asks. It’s more of a jest than anything, popping the fridge open in search of a caffeinated beverage. “How little do I mean to you?” 

“Check the microwave, nerd.” 

He looks surprised, meandering to the appliance in question and opening the door to see a plate of breakfast for dinner inside. “Wow,” he sighs dreamily. “You really are my favorite roommate.”

“I’m your only roommate.”

“Well, you’re better than Namjoon.”

“Mmm. That isn’t a hard feat, I don’t chronically break pieces of furniture.”

Humming his agreement, Seokjin shoves eggs into his mouth, munching happily. “When are you going to finally play some games with me, huh?” 

“Mmmm never.”

“You think I don’t know you have a little setup in there?”

“I like Animal Crossing. You like Apex.”

“Come on, I can teach you Apex.”

It’s a conversation you’ve had a million times. Gaming is the single thing that the two of you have in common. When you first discovered that Seokjin worked in the digital sphere and was a content creator for popular games online, you were a bit worried. It wouldn’t have been the first time you had been fetishized for so much as liking a game. 

Thankfully, Seokjin was alright. He didn’t make it weird, and after a casual comparison of the things you liked to play, he decided that the interests weren’t common enough to be a huge pain in the ass about it. 

He did really want to play at least once, with you though.

“I know how to play Apex,” you mumble, eyes flickering back to the TV. Your last situationship revolved around playing the stupid first-person shooter together. “I don’t like it.”

As in, you were absolutely never playing that game again after being worn out from it and having it associated with someone who kind of sucked anyway. 

“How can you not like Apex?” Seokjin mutters, more to himself than anything else.

Thankfully he drops the subject, distracted by your show. He shuffles to the couch, where you join him eventually, both of you tucked into the cushions as you watch the show. For the most part, Seokjin is quiet, only peppering you with questions during the commercial breaks. You’re happy to answer. 

It’s comfortable, your little life with him. You’ve almost lived together for a year, and despite the annoying gaming thing and his habitual bad jokes, you like living with Seokjin. You like having him as a friend, even. 

Things are good.

-

Things are not good. You clench your jaw as you re-read the email, feeling the tension creep into your shoulders. You can already feel the headache that has not yet happened but is predestined. 

If people would just read their emails before sending a snarky request with your boss CC’d- 

Mark: Come by my office, please. 

Sighing, you push out from the desk and head toward your boss's office. Your stomach flips uneasily, unsettled as you walked by the windowed offices of the executive staff. It isn’t that you’re afraid of your boss, but you certainly have been having a bad enough day without having to explain that if Alicia in accounting had just read your email she wouldn’t be confused.

At the appointed office, you tap lightly on the door frame. “Hi, still a good time?”

It’s obviously a good time, but for some reason, you feel the need to break the tension by clarifying. Your boss is a wide-set man who ushers you in with a wave. “Catch the door for me, please.”

The door shuts with a click and it feels like impending doom. 

Sitting quickly in a chair, you wait with a racing heartbeat as Mark finishes writing an email. The silence is awkward so you distract yourself by looking at the pictures of him and his family on his shelves as if you haven’t seen them a dozen times, and looking at his nameplate and literally any other object in his office to keep from feeling uncomfortable. 

The horrible 70s rock that plays softly in the background only makes it worse. 

With a final click on his mouse, he turns to you and says, “Sorry about that, trying to get through all these damn sales contracts.”

“Sounds exhausting.” You have no idea if it is - sales isn’t your area of expertise. “I know they’ve been busy.”

“Tons of new clients, which is always great but the paperwork is a killer.” 

“Makes sense.” 

“What is Alice in accounts losing her mind about? I saw that you’re missing invoices for radio stations and it’s way past the cycle?” 

“As explained in my email to Alice, the station in question filed for bankruptcy and has a halt on all their funds. This was something I communicated two months ago with accounting and legal. I believe you may have been on it as well, though perhaps I left you off.” You didn’t leave him off. You don’t leave him off any emails. “Those invoices are all going to be a mess until that’s sorted.”

“Look,” he sighs. “We all have a shit ton going on right now. One email letting us know that payment would be an issue isn’t going to cut it. You can’t assume that we see the emails. Was it flagged as high-importance?”

“Yes.”

And I mentioned it in three meetings and a sticky note, you think. 

“See, it’s just not foolproof. It’s your job to overcommunicate these things. You can't rely on accounting or me to remember these things for you.”

You give him one slow blink. Then another. 

“Understood,” you answer, throat tightening. “I will make sure to overcommunicate from now on, I apologize for the confusion.” 

“Thanks,” he says, a dismissal. “Door closed on the way out, I have a stupid call to jump on.” 

Door closed behind you, you wonder how anyone gets anything fucking done around this place. Because of course doing all of the things logical and reasonable to communicate a change in accounting isn’t reasonable. Going above and beyond and being responsible for other people not reading their email is now your job to compensate for. 

Steam blowing from your ears, you march back toward your desk in a blind rage, fists open and closing. You don’t see it coming when Yoongi smacks into you, eyes glued to his phone and fresh iced-americano now coloring your blue shirt a nice shade of mud. 

“Holy fuck I am so sorry,” Yoongi swears. “Shit - fuck - sorry.” 

Cold leeches through you like a knife. You rush to the bathroom, Yoongi’s cursing and apologies drifting behind you. The press of paper towels lifts a little of the yellow from your shirt, but it doesn’t fix the sticky-cold cling of fabric to your chest and the unmistakable stain down the front of your outfit. 

“Fucking perfect.”

-

Blessedly Seokjin isn’t home when you arrive stained in dry coffee, smelling like Starbucks, and sagging with a delightful mix of rage, wrath, and irritation. Like an angry little storm cloud, you move around the apartment, snapping cabinets closed extra hard and yanking your blouse off with a little more violence than usual. 

A hot shower makes most of the tension bleed away, but not all of it vanishes. Wrapped in a towel and turned into a prune, you reach for the clothes on the counter and realized in your haste to peel yourself out of Yoongi’s coffee, you didn’t bring any with you. 

It doesn’t matter anyway. Seokjin isn’t home, so you yank the door open and march toward your room, running smack into your second person of the day with a startled yelp and thankfully, a very tight grip on your towel. 

“Why are you all wet?” Seokjin shrieks, wiping his shirt as though he could get rid of the you-shaped wet stain. “And naked!”

“I’m in a towel! Why are you here?”

“I live here!”

“I meant right now! You weren’t home!”

“Well, I do come home, usually! And I yelled I was home when I got here so you would hear me!”

“Well, I was in the shower!”

“Obviously!” 

For a moment, the two of you stand there. You’re dripping a puddle onto the tile and the cold air has goosebumps breaking out all over your body. You shiver as Seokjin’s eyes flicker down for a split second before he’s looking at the ceiling and gesturing. “Well - go find clothes!”

“I will! Jeez!” 

You storm into your room, slamming the door and pressing your back against it. Your towel is gripped tight in your fist, heart hammering. You’re both adults and while being in a towel in front of Seokjin isn’t embarrassing or scandalous, it was unexpected and new. 

As you get dressed quickly, you can’t help but think of the way his cheeks tinged pink and the nervous way he shifted. It was… cute. 

With clothes on, Seokjin seems a lot less nervous around you. He’s still a little stiff, you notice. You bump into him as the two of you navigate the kitchen together and he ducks his head, the tops of his ears red. You file the information away for another time, feeling your cheeks warm when you go to reach for a pair of tongs but he already has them held out to you. 

It isn’t uncommon behavior. He’s known you long enough to know your habits around the kitchen, and you’ve cooked enough meals together to recognize the patterns in which the two of you move around the kitchen. 

Music plays in the background, Seokjin humming along. Occasionally, he sings the words, voice low and soft over the notes.

“You have a nice voice,” you note as you flip the oven off. He’s always had a nice voice, but you’ve never said anything before. He raises his brows as you grab oven mitts. “You do,” you insist with a grin. “I promise I’m not lying.”

“A great voice to go with a great face right?”

“Ew, here we go.”

He moves out of your way as you open the oven, leaning on the counter and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Maybe I should sing on stream. Do you think they would like that? People already think I’m the most handsome streamer.”

“Sure, maybe do some sort of caroling or something for the holidays.”

He pauses. “That’s actually not a terrible idea. What if I just called my friends who were streaming on Discord and started caroling to them? I could make it a charity thing and select streams based on donations.”

Placing the hot pan on the top of the stove, you glance at him sidelong. “Do you do charity streams a lot?”

“All the time. Most of the long streams I do are for charities.” 

“So it’s not all just… earning cash?”

“No, I get plenty of that.”

“So why do you need a roommate?” 

Seokjin leans over you, to pluck a fry off of the pan. He doesn’t move away immediately, eyes dropping down to yours as he sticks the french fry in his mouth. The warmth of his chest radiates through your shoulder where you touch and suddenly, you feel a buzz at his nearness.

It’s impossible not to drop your eyes down to his mouth as he chews. For a moment, you’re dazed by his pillow lips - they really are a marvel to look at. Then he’s smirking and murmuring, “For the cooking. Did you get these out of a frozen bag? Ugh.”

Spell broken you swat at him and he laughs, leaning away again. “I don’t like to be alone,” Seokjin admits. “Having a roommate is nice. Granted, I was supposed to be living with Namjoon until he and Jungkook decided to be in love and all that. Now I have you filling out the rest of his lease.”

“So you can afford to live alone in this city and don’t?”

“Hey, I also save a ton of money. I will want to buy a house one day. Consider yourself as a part of my savings tactic.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

Rooming with Seokjin had been of convenience. Finding affordable living in the city was nearly impossible - especially on your salary - and when Namjoon had announced after only two months of living with Seokjin that he and his boyfriend were getting their own place, it had timed up perfectly. You had been vaguely familiar with Seokjin at the time, and you desperately needed cheaper rent.

You’d never really asked why Seokjin had a roommate at all. He had a work-from-home job at a software company doing something that went far beyond your understanding, and he made a ton from streaming. 

Seokjin plops down on the couch instead of the dining room table, a plate full of chicken nuggets and fries balanced on his knee as he pats the seat next to him without looking. You definitely went the easy route for dinner after your terrible day, and Seokjin seems to pick up on the fact that tonight is an eat-from-the-comfort-of-the-couch kind of vibe. 

“Ugh,” Seokjin sighs as he watches Shangela get eliminated from the top four on All-Stars 3. “That is heartbreaking. She worked really hard.”

Seokjin has never really voiced being a fan of the show, but you have a sneaking suspicion he watches it because you are, and it’s something to bond over. Maybe you should play a round of Apex with him.

Instead, you say, “Yeah, she deserved it.” You pause. “Thanks for watching with me, tonight. I had a rough day.” 

“Hmm. I can tell.” He leans and squeezes your bicep absently. “I’m here for ya.”

Though you say nothing, your insides do a little bit of a flip.

-

Glancing at the clock on the stove, you frown. Pausing your show, you pull up your phone, paging over to Twitch to pull up Seokjin’s stream. He’s been doing one of those stream-a-thon things again, and you haven’t seen him come out to eat since the morning. It’s well into the evening now. 

Seokjin’s stream pulls up and you see him in the corner of his screen, the familiar lighting in his room glowing in the background. His room is surreptitiously clean, free of any garbage and clutter. His bed is always made any time you see it, and the beautiful tiles of pulsing lights above it make a nice ambiance for his stream. 

Currently, he is focused, leaning a little too far toward his screen as he talks to his teammates. Taehyung and Jungkook, by the sound of it. There’s no evidence suggesting he has left his room today, which urges you to get up and head to the kitchen, closing out the stream.

In silence, you put together a small meal. A wrap, a small back of chips, and some damn water will do him some good. Pulling up his stream again, you wait until his match finishes and he’s leaning back, talking to chat. 

A little nervous, you walk with food in hand to his bedroom door where you can hear his soft voice. You knock lightly and he calls you in. Carefully, you stick your head in and see him turn. You’re out of shot from his stream, but he’s confused nonetheless. You never interrupt. 

Sliding the plate into view, Seokjin’s face lights up. He rolls away from the computer and comes over, his headset on his head still as he gushes, “Holy fuck thank you. You are literally the best. A goddess. A queen. Royalty. Angel among humans. I’m starving.”

“Yeah, it’s like seven at night idiot.” 

“Yeah, whatever. Thank you.” He bites into the wrap eagerly, taking a few minutes to chew and swallow. He pauses and glances you up and down before smiling. “Really, thank you. That was incredibly thoughtful of you.”

“Uh-huh.” You glance at his screen. “Have a good rest of your stream.”

-

Jin: Left lunch for you in the fridge. I made extra this morning. 

You look at the text and furrow your brow, toothbrush still popped into the side of your cheek. You continue absently scrubbing as you walk to the fridge and pull it open. Sure enough, there’s a glass dish with a sticky note on it and a smiley face. 

Plucking the note off the top, you read it. Thanks for taking care of me. Now I’ll take care of you. 

With a smile bright enough to light up the entire city, you go about getting dressed for work.

-

The smile doesn’t last long. Work drags on unsteady, tired feet, and once again, you are stuck in a slew of responsibilities that shouldn’t be yours, reading emails that are reiterating things already discussed, and joining meetings that should be emailed. 

By the time lunch comes and goes, you realize that you haven’t yet eaten. Tucked in the small cubicle, you nibble on Seokjin’s homemade meal, eyes glued to the neverending scroll of budget tracking and invoices. 

A raging headache lurks behind your eyes and though your lunch is superb - as it often is with Seokjin’s cooking - you can’t help but feel your frustration mount by the time your next meeting rolls around. 

Meeting after meeting interrupts your afternoon, and when you finish your last one long past the time to go home, your nerves are fried and a high-strung feeling follows you all the way to your car as you scroll through all of the emails you have yet to get to.

Because of all the fucking meetings. 

The trip home is silent. Your fingers ache with the grip on the steering wheel of your car and when you park in the lot of the apartment complex, you sit there for a moment, car off, world muted by the car doors. 

Head pressed against the steering wheel, you take a few steady breaths. It feels like you might cry, which isn’t typical after a work day. But you’re frustrated and tired, and that goddamn headache is still looming in the back of your eye sockets. 

Upstairs and in your apartment, you breeze past Seokjin who is in the kitchen. You mumble something about a migraine and he barely gets a moment to say anything before you’re in your room, door pressed shut. You lay in your bed without even taking your work close off, wrapping yourself in your blanket and closing your eyes. 

The next thing you know, there’s something warm pressed against your brow. You frown and groan, rolling over and feeling several joints in your body pop. Your eyes flutter open and you see Seokjin leaning over you, making you flinch slightly. 

“Sorry,” he laughs. “But it’s really late and you should eat. I know you have a headache so I brought you meds and a cold towel. And ramen. I make the best ramen.”

“Jungkook makes the best ramen,” you correct, sighing and leaning up a little. Your movements are stiff, tangled in a blazer and dress pants. “Ugh, I slept like this?”

“Jungkook does not make the best ramen. I will take that away.”

“Fine, fine.” You take the medicine from the nightstand and chase it with the water glass offered. “Thanks.” You look at all the things he brought you and your insides begin to melt. He lingers near the doorway, eyes soft, expression warm. “Thank you for thinking of me. I… wow.” 

He shrugs, suddenly shy. “No big deal. Now eat the best ramen in the world or I’m going to have a fit.” 

With that, Seokjin leaves you to eat your ramen in peace. The first taste is amazing, already warming you up. You realized you’re ravenous, pulling noodles into your mouth hungrily. Absently, you think that it is the best fucking ramen in the world.

-

“What’s with you?” Seokjin asks as you drag your feet slowly in the grocery store. Rarely do you shop together, but today is an exception. “You look like a zombie.”

You nearly shoot daggers at him. “I lost my headphones,” you snap. “Which means I have to hear your gaming all night.”

“Oh come on, I’m not that loud.”

“Watch one of your streams back, I’m sure you’ll disagree.”

He sighs, turning the cart as you walk down the spice aisle. “Sorry, I’m preparing for this huge Apex tournament. Jungkook and I have been practicing duos a lot and it’s been a bit frustrating. Everyone has fucking aim assist these days, I swear that console players are doing to ruin-”

“Jin.” He pauses his rant. “I’m just asking you to keep it down a little. I no longer have the means to ignore you… moaning weirdly during a game.”

“What?”

“You haven’t noticed? You kind of moan and yell. It’s… ask your stream about it.”

He stops walking, staring at you as you walk ahead. “I don’t do that.” You snicker and he makes a frustrated noise. “I don’t!”

Five minutes pass with Seokjin sulking about your comment. It’s when you’re in the milk aisle that he says, “So you’ve just been imagining me moaning on the other side of the wall, huh?”

“W-what?” 

“Admit it. You’ve been thinking about me moooaaaning you’re having dirty thooooughts.” He sing-songs this to you, poking at your sides as you open the fridge to get milk.

“I am not.”

“It’s totally cool. I get it, handsome bachelor right on the other side of the wall, you’re bound to get curious and - oof.” 

“Put this in the cart,” you deadpan, having hit him in the stomach with the gallon of milk. He takes it from you and obliges, though there is a shit-eating grin on his face. 

Seokjin isn’t right, but he isn’t explicitly wrong. When you first moved in, you had been shy and wondered about the attractive boy who lived just on the other side of the wall. Once you had fallen into familiarity, though, there had not been anything there.

Except recently. 

The last few weeks have felt like the two of you have reached a new level of shared living space. You had done things together before, but now you find yourself making all your meals with Seokjin, bringing him snacks during stream, waking up to him making you breakfast or having prepared you lunch. 

And now you’re doing groceries together, which was something uncommon enough to make you wonder.

You think back to the gentle way he made you dinner and brought you medicine when you had a headache, the way that your insides had turned cotton candy at the action and house these days, your eyes lingered on him just a little bit more. 

But no. Seokjin was your roommate, and you learned in your last situationship that you don’t shit where you eat. Which is why you moved out of the old apartment and in with Seokjin in the first place. 

The rest of your shopping experience goes with mild teasing. You’re still a little bit on edge, but not enough to be truly mad, especially when he offers to cook dinner. 

Once again, you find yourself nestled on the couch watching TV before he finally relents and announces he’s going to practice duos with Jungkook. He assures you that he’ll keep it down this time - he isn’t streaming, so you sure hope so - and vanishes for the rest of the evening. 

When you get ready for bed, it is mostly silent on his of the wall. No yelling, but you can hear the soft lull of his voice. Oddly enough, it’s soothing, and you end up falling asleep with the barest sound of his hum through the walls. 

-

Most nights, you can sleep through Seokjin’s yelling at the sudden sound of his knee hitting his gaming desk as he jumps up, a string of expletives laced with other unintelligible expressions of shock, horror, and frustration. Most nights, you can tuck your headphones in, and blissfully fall asleep to the sound of rain, hearing his insanity only once in a while.

Except now you’ve lost your headphones, you don’t have enough money to splurge on a new pair, and Seokjin has been practicing for a tournament for some extremely long stream he has coming up. 

So now, you go nights without sleep. Nights where you drift off to dreamland after a long shift at the bar or studying for your dissertation. Nights like this, where you teeter on the edge between awake and asleep, and you’re startled straight out of your bed from a shout. 

Heart pounding, you grip the edge of your bed, trying to get your bearings as Seokjin’s shouting echoes through the shared wall. You feel sick with the sudden rush of adrenaline and fear, closing your eyes for a moment as the room spins.

Gritting your teeth and ripping your blankets from you, you march to his room, stumbling as you try to get your bearings from waking up so suddenly. Your stomach does a nasty flip, churning at the unplanned activity as you pound your fist on his door.

“Open up, motherfucker!” You screech, hand slamming on the door without pause. “I swear, Seokjin, sometimes I just want to-“ 

The door rips open and you nearly knock him right in his chest. His very bare, very broad chest, lit up by the purple RBG lights on his headphones and strip lighting around his room to improve the ambiance of his setup. 

“Holy shit, woman! What?” 

You blink, momentarily dazed at what you came here for, distracted entirely by the firm curves of his pectorals, skin smooth and gold. Was Seokjin always this in shape or is it a figment spurred by the rush of adrenaline? 

Finding your words is hard, your brain is scrambled and near ready to make dial-up noises at the site of your roommate’s bare skin. “We just talked about this,” you manage to spit out. “And you’re literally going to start screaming the same fucking day we talk about keeping it down?”

“I mean I’m sorry but damn. You don’t have to break the door down.”

“Then stop screaming!”

“You’re the one screaming!”

“Because I’m trying to fucking sleep! I have dealt with you yelling, cheering, slamming the desk and hollering and doing your little moan-scream for almost a year without saying anything!” You yell back, fists clenched and rage boiling. “I’m so fucking over it!”

“Then why have you never mentioned it before? You know, like an adult!”

Your mouth hangs open at the clap back. “Be for real. I am not the problem here.”  

“Well if I’m the problem, why haven’t you communicated that? You’ve been here eight months and it took me asking you at the grocery store to fess up that I was bothering you.” 

“I mean. Yeah, but-”

“So don’t yell at me that I didn’t read your mind and I had no idea I was bothering you. Or get headphones.” 

“How about you start gaming at normal hours? Have you ever thought of that?” 

He rolls his eyes. “You mean my working hours?”

“I mean between the hours before 11 at night, Jin!” 

“Make me!”

“Fine!” You snap, rage pushing you over. “Shall we make a wager?” 

This catches him by surprise. He blinds a few times, tilting his head. “What are you proposing?” 

Crossing your arms, you nod to the computer. “You want me to play Apex so bad? Fine, we’ll make it a competition.” 

“There’s no 1 v 1 in Apex.”

“Duos. Whoever gets the most kills wins. No shields higher than blue, no turning on each other. Just strictly kill count. If win, you don’t get to game past 11 pm anymore.” 

“And if I win?”

“What do you want?”

“What can I have?” He pauses, looking you up and down. Something feels different as he does this. His gaze heavier. Darker. He licks his lips, your attention is drawn to the way the blue lights glittering on his wall turn the spit-slicked surface blue. “How about any favor at any time that I ask? Are we also trying to win as a duo?”

“Sure. No holds barred on how we get kills.” 

Again, he examines you, trying to puzzle something out. Wordlessly, he walks to his computer and grabs his headset. The door is open to his room, showing that he just has his basic setup turned on, with no intention of streaming. “Jungkook I’ll hit you up tomorrow. I have to kick my roommate's ass.” Jungkook says something on the other side and Seokjin clears his throat. “Yeah, no. Bye.”

He returns, phone in hand. Your phone pings in your room. “Add me on Discord, I guess.” 

Wordlessly, you spin and head to your room. 

There are still things Seokjin doesn’t know about you. Like how you played his favorite game for a year straight, trying to impress your last roommate-turned-fuck-buddy with your skills. While it partially worked in your favor, their failure to commit to you gave you a sour taste about the game. 

It’s been a while since you’ve played. Slower games are more your style, and you haven’t turned on your PC in a while, but as it starts, lights inside of the glass case glittering, you feel a shiver of excitement. 

Your setup is not nearly as advanced as your roommate's, who has three screens, a massive desk and hi-tech camera, a microphone, and a massive custom-built unit that could probably power a tank. Yours is pre-built but sturdy, and you have a single screen with a modest keyboard and headset to match. 

Glancing at the Discord user, you roll your eyes at what Seokjin’s written: WorldWideHandsomeJin.

“Weirdo,” you mutter. 

You add him anyway, getting comfortable in your chair and hitting the call button. He answers immediately, his voice making the hair at the back of your neck tingle as he says, “So are you going to be my Discord kitten?”

“Ew, don’t ever say that again,” you mutter. Navigating your desktop, you start to update the game. “Give me fifteen. I have to update.”

“Really? Newbie.”

“Sorry I don’t play this game every second of my life. I haven’t played since I moved out of the last place.” 

He hums, voice vibrating in your very nice headset. You turn him down a little bit, feeling just a little drunk from the rich timbre of his voice. “That was a… weird situation, huh?”

“A bit.” 

“They play Apex that much too?”

“Not as much as you do.” He hums again. “Who do you main?” 

“Loba.”

“Fine,” you answer as the program opens. “I’m playing Wraith.” 

The game menu blares in your ears, making you squeak and reset all of your old settings. It feels weird to log on, pointedly ignoring the familiar username as you navigate your friends list to add Seokjin. He pops up and selects duos for you. 

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see his rank. “Diamond? Holy fuck do you touch grass?” 

“Says you! You played enough that you hit Diamond in your first season too, nerd. It shows your historical stats. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Whatever. Ready up.” 

Neither of you says anything as the system prepares to put you in a game. You look at his stats, raising your brows as you flip through. He’s historically hit the highest rank in the game, making you wonder why he’s dropped recently. He also has a ridiculous skin on his character, making you wonder how long he’s been playing. 

Apex Legends is a first-person shooter game with a battle royale format. Similar to Fortnite, teams load into the game and pick up weapons and other materials to fight other teams the ring of combat gets smaller and smaller. With Seokjin’s selection of Loba guarantees that you’ll be able to stock weapons and ammo. With your selection of Wraith, you can get in and out of situations quickly and you’ll know when an enemy team focuses on you.

As the map loads, you can’t help but feel the tremor in your hand. Your leg bounces up and down as you wait, watching the dropship come into focus. You give Seokjin the power to drop your duo anywhere on the complex map. You almost expect him to launch immediately, but you’re impressed to see that he has enough patience to drop you a moderate distance on the map.

Which means fewer weapons, fewer shields, and fewer teams to kill. You frown as you navigate your character to land near utility boxes full of weapons. Does he think you need to take it slow? Or maybe he’s worried about giving you too many people to kill easily. 

“Team to the north,” you comm, opening up boxes and selecting weapons, shields, and med packs. “What do you shoot?”

“Energy. Preferably the volt.” 

“Volt here. Let me know if you see a flatline or sentinel.” 

“You snipe with Wraith?” 

“When she says someone’s aiming at me, yeah?” 

He hums but does not comment the two of you use the map to navigate. You fall into a rhythm, using the controls feels sort of familiar. As you work your way toward the next ring, Seokjin startles you when he starts firing shots at a time looting that you miss. You flinch and whirl, but he’s already eliminated the pair. 

“Two zero.” 

“Whatever,” you growl, ignoring his smug voice.

Shooter, move your character in game commands. You dodge behind a box as an enemy team rattles off shots. Your heart pounds as you use a sniper to look in the direction of the shots, seeing the duo up on a tower. Lining up the scope, you click and hit a player. 

“Knocked,” you call automatically. The second teammate makes a bad call and tries to get their knocked pair up. You line up the shot and click twice. “Knocked. Out.” You move your mouse and finish the other teammate. “Out.”

“Yeah, yeah, good comms whatever. We’re even.”

You grin. “Just trying to communicate to my teammate.” 

He snorts. “Sure.”

For a few moments, the two of you navigate to a safe zone. When you see two teams clash, you don’t even think. Normally you’d wait for one team to finish off the other, but you’re in a competition with Seokjin, too. Suddenly, winning means more than just peace and silence.

“Knocked,” you call, sniping another player. “Out. Out. Knocked.” 

“You motherfucker,” Jin hisses. “You’re supposed to - out - tell me when we’re going to push a team.”

“Hey, that was my kill!”

“You only knocked him!” 

“Whatever. And I pushed them because I want to win.”

“I didn’t realize you were so good at this.” The two of you start looting the load out of the eliminated players. “You kept saying I don’t like Apex and here you are, really good at it.”

“Honestly, I used to like it.” Together, you traverse the map until you enter the next ring. Seokjin pauses to use Loba’s pop shop ability, a cache of weapons and materials in the local area showing up in front of you. As you sort through them, you continue, “But I used to play with my old roommate and I used to do it to impress them. As it turns out, being good at a video game does not a relationship make.”

“Hmm. Well if it makes you feel any better, I like you even without the Apex.”

“I meant I was trying to get them to like me romantically.”

“I know what you meant.” 

You pause. Seokjin does not explain his statement, humming lightly as he picks up ammo and leaves the little shop running. He skips down the hill with his character, his happy little tune deep in your ear. 

Nerves get the best of you in the next firefight with a team. You get knocked and screech into the headset, thinking that your chance to win is over. Seokjin, thankfully, takes pity on you and heals you after your near-death experience. But now he’s in the lead, and there are only five teams left. 

I know what you meant. 

The words sit heavy on you. While you are attracted to Seokjin you know it’s a bad idea. Roommates being anything more than roommates often brings other issues. You’d learned firsthand how poorly not defining a relationship could go. That was on you as an adult too but… you didn’t want something in between.

And you have no inclination of what he meant. 

Seokjin wasn’t a very flirty person. Teasing you came easily enough, and he was always nice. He had been a little extra nice recently since you’d been spending more time together, but there wasn’t anything that would suggest he saw you as more than a roommate. 

Two more people downed, and you were tied. The two of you were more into the game and less into the bet. Your interrupted sleep was long forgotten, and you leaned forward as you devised a plan, locking down a high tower where you could see enemy teams coming to escape the shrinking ring. 

“Glad you got that stupid sentinel,” Seokjin mutters. “Who snipes with Wraith.” 

“Shut up,” you shoot back, though you don’t really mean it. “Your second gun is a fucking wingman.” 

“Because it’s like a one tap to the head!” An incoming team distracts him from arguing with you. “Over by that dino cage.”

“Got it,” you comm back. The second you shoot, you draw fire. “Oh my god do they have a Kraber?” 

“Yeah, but they fucked the shot. You got this.” 

Taking a breath - a little dramatic, you realize as you scope them - you take the shot. You tap one, but they have red armor. You curse, pissed you installed a fucking armor limitation, and duck behind the wall as the other team misses the shot with their kraber again. 

“Best gun in the game and they can’t hit shots!” Seokjin laughs. “Imagine! Their buddy must be fuming.”

You scope again and tap the person again. “Knocked. Do we stand our ground or try and take them?” Another shot misses. “Can you keep a scope on that person you cracked and I can push? Other team is probably trying to wait it out.” 

“If they see you?”

“Then you’re fucked but they’re not going to engage between two snipers. Maybe? I don’t know. Just do your thing.”

And you do your thing as Seokjin runs off toward the enemy team. They no longer have shots on their gun - which makes you roll your eyes, it’s the best gun on the map - and keep focused. Either they think you’re moving or they make a bad call - the healthy teammate tries to pick up their knocked ally and you take the shot. 

“They’re both cracked.” 

“Got it- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH OTHER TEAM.” 

His screech makes you slam your knee into the underside of your desk. No wonder he does this all the time, you think, realizing that the disrupting noise is a lot easier to make than you originally thought. “Let them take the kill then!”

“Fuck that I want to win!”

“Ew is this about the bet still? Now I want to win the game!”

“That’s what I’m talking about! Ye of little fAIIIIIITH!”

It’s hard not to giggle as he breaks off into yelling, entering a firefight while you try to provide cover and miss your shots. “Stop fucking portaling where I want to shoot!”

“Stop missing!”

“Knocked motherfucker!” 

“Got it!”

Seokjin finishes the two teammates as the knocked enemies on the other team expire. Both of you scream over your headsets. You shoot to your feet as the victory screen flashes. You don’t even wait - you bolt toward the door, your wired-in headset ripping off your head and nearly yanking you back as you go. 

The door is already open as he yells loudly, jumping up and down and grabbing you by the forearms, jumping around in circles with you. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and you can’t help but feel elated as he shakes you wildly, screaming, “Yaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” 

His hands are warm on your biceps, gentle and squeezing you excitedly. And then between one breath and the next, he’s pulling you toward him, pressing his lips to yours. 

A shock goes through you. You freeze for a moment, completely taken aback and unsure how to react. Seokjin realizes what he’s done and immediately backs away, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the strands as he says, “Shit - I am so sorry. That was wow - that was a line crossed without your consent and I’m so sorry.” 

Heat floods you from head to toe. Your heart slams against your chest and you stare at him as he fumbles over an apology, his face red as you feel. Your mind can’t catch up as the warmth spreads from your face to the rest of you.

“I’m genuinely so sorry, I just got really excited and-”

“What did you mean earlier,” you cut him off. “When you were all I know what you meant. Look I… really don’t want to make this living situation weird.”

“Totally understand, I’m so sorry.”

You chew on your lip, looking at him. He looks earnest, eyes round and expression pleading. Your lips tingle where he kissed you, so quickly that you’ve already forgotten. Part of you wants to tell him to kiss you again. It was nice. And the flip in your stomach was… good. 

But the part of you speaking now says, “I had fun gaming with you. Apology accepted. I am super tired though, so I’m going to go to bed okay?”

“Yeah. Listen, I am so sorry. That won’t happen again and I just - that was not cool of me at all.”

“It’s okay.” 

“It wasn’t.” 

You offer a smile, still nervous, fingers twitching. “I know you didn’t like, mean anything by it.”

He frowns. “Well I did but that’s my issue.” 

Your heart is a stone skipping on the smooth surface of a pond. “What does that mean?” 

“Look,” he sighs. “I don’t want to make things weird, alright? I harbor a bit of a crush on you and that was honestly absolutely not okay for me to just-” He gesticulates wildly with his hands. “It was an inconsiderate thing for me to do.” 

A crush. Your breathing hitches and you rub sweaty palms against your pants, nodding. “It’s - we’re okay. We’re fine.” 

Seokjin nods, nibbling on his bottom lip as he stares at you, red-faced and nervous. The silence turns awkward, your mind blanks and buzzes as you try to digest his words.

Crush crush crush crush. 

“I’m gonna go to bed,” you announce abruptly, needing to escape the room to breathe for a moment. He nods, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as you rush out. “Night!”

Behind locked doors in your room, you cover your face, feeling the way your cheeks are flushed. You do some deep breathing, trying to regulate your heart rate as your brain spins its tires on Seokjin’s words- confession. 

He confused. That he has a crush. 

For a few moments, you just lean over and pant, trying to think how you feel. Your stomach is a bundle of nervousness and your hands are a little shaky. But you’re not upset. In fact, you smile a bit, thinking of the way that Seokjin had turned shy and the way his lips had felt soft for that split second of a chance.

Straightening, you stare at the wall between your bedrooms. Seokjin is right there. Has been right there. And has admitted to liking you and is sweet and kind and fun to hang out with and-

It might be a bad decision. You’ve been down this road before. It ended up with you nursing feelings and deciding that feelings with roommates was a bad idea. But your last roommate didn’t have feelings for you like that. They liked the sex, but that was where the attraction ended. 

So maybe -

You knock loudly on Seokjin’s door. There’s some shuffling on the other side and he opens it, brows furrowed and a little breathless. Before he can ask what you’re doing, you’re pushing past him and asking, “When you say you have a crush on me what do you mean? In the physical, only attracted to your appearance kind of way, or like the would date kind of way?”

“Well I am physically attracted to you,” he answers slowly, turning to look at you. “But I also like you. You’re funny and incredibly kind, and you’re easy to live with. I like the way that you make your hashbrowns a little extra crispy and crunchy, and I like that you think of me when you do things.” 

“So you like me?”

“Yes, I think I… included that?”

You lick your lips, taking a shaky breath. “So you don’t want to just fuck me no strings attached?”

He blanches. “No. I don’t. Look I know I made you uncomfortable-”

“Kiss me.”

“What now?”

“Kiss me!”

There is a fleeting smile Seokjin gives you that later, you’ll think on with a fluttering heart and breathless laugh. But now, all you can think about is the gentle touch of his hands as they cradle your face and the delicate way his lips press against yours, pillow soft and sweet. 

Seokjin smells like his body wash, the sage and juniper intoxicating as you wrap your arms around his neck. His skin is warm as you press your palms against his skin, his pulse throbbing underneath your thumb. 

The kiss is chaste, just a firm press of lips and a surprised noise shared between the two of you. Tentatively, you pull away, eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him. Seokjin’s eyes are swimming pools of darkness framed by long lashes. He’s so beautiful, but up close he’s deadly, flecks of gold glittering in his irises. 

“I just,” you whisper. “I don’t want it to be weird but I also… want.” 

You don’t have to explain. Seokjin’s grin is easy, nodding. He gets it. He gets you. So he leans down again and pulls you in by the waist, fingers curling in the hem of your t-shirt as he tugs you toward him. The motion makes you gasp and he takes the chance to turn the kiss from sweet to carnal, tongue sweeping into your mouth.

Seokjin kisses you slowly, tongue curious and gentle. Your head spins as you kiss him and you can barely breathe, so full of him and thoughts of him and the taste of him that you grip him tight, desperate not to fall over. 

The irritation from him waking you up is long forgotten as he tugs you closer. Your hips press against his, mouths sliding, a mix of gentle smacks, spit, and gasps for air. A buzz tingles through you as you nudge Seokjin toward his bed and he responds immediately, backing up and pulling you with him.

When the back of his legs hit the bed, he falls backward. The two of you become a tangled pile of limbs and kisses and giggles, but you find your place as you slot your knees on either side of his narrow waist, palms flat against his chest and the steady beating of his heart. 

There are stars in his eyes when he looks up at you. For a second, you just look at one another, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs and his eyes locked on your face. His lips and face are rouge, hair messy. You grin and lean down, pressing your lips against him again. 

Kissing Seokjin is invigorating. You can’t help but let little noises slip from your mouth. His fingers press into your thighs, dimpling the flesh as he groans, hips twitching upward for friction. The bulge through his sweatpants makes you squeak and you break the kiss, wiggling your hips down to press against his clothed cock.

“Ugh,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut and head pressing back into his mattress. “Don’t do that. I’m so fucking hard.” 

“Do you want some help with that?”

His gaze softens and his thumbs slide back and forth on your thighs, caressing gently. “I want whatever you want. Nothing, everything, something. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Well right now… I really want to suck you off.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh.” 

Without breaking eye contact, you drop and slide your hand from where it presses against his chest downward. His abs twitch under your hand as you dance along his over-warm skin. His breathing has turned faint and breathy, body nearly trembling as you brush your fingers along the trail of hair leading into his sweatpants.

Watching him is hypnotizing. Seokjin’s lips part slightly as you slide your hand underneath the elastic, brows shooting up when you brush the sticky tip of his cock. 

“No underwear?”

“They’re - nggg - restricting.” 

His shaft is long and smooth, your fingers brushing along the underside, tracing a vein. You’re impressed by the sheer size of his dick, wondering if you’re going to manage to not choke, but the sound he lets you when you wrap your fingers around him and grip him tight erases the apprehension. 

“You sound so good like that,” you breathe, giving a loose-fisted stroke toward the crown, beaded with precum. “Also you have a sizeable dick.”

“Sizeable, huh?” You brush your thumb over the tip, nail gliding over his leaking slit and he lets out a loud moan, making you grin. “Take it out and see how fucking sizeable it is, hmm?”

It’s hard to take him seriously with how ridiculous he sounds, but you slide down the bed, gently getting onto your knees. Using both hands, you tug at his sweatpants, looking up at him through fluttered lashes. 

And… suddenly it’s not a joke anymore. Your mouth waters a bit at the side, his tip swollen and needy. His thick, and you know how good it would feel to just sink down on top of his length, filling up the throb that aches between your legs. 

Pressing your palms firmly into his thighs, you lift yourself up, dipping low to run your tongue along the thick vein that runs up the bottom of his shaft. He lets out a sinful growl, hands fisting the sheet and gasping as you watch him struggle. 

At the tip, you slid a hand up, gripping him firmly as you suckle the dark, swollen flesh into your mouth. His precum is salty on your tongue and you hum, eyes fixed on the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the blush blossoming from his neck to his pecs. 

Seokjin is beautiful under the assault of your mouth. 

Suckling gently, you watch his reaction as your tongue lazily circles around the sensitive tip of his cock. His hips wiggle back and forth but he never bucks up into your mouth, never thrusts deeper than you’re willing to go. 

“Please,” he whispers and it comes out as an almost whine. “More.” 

You give him more, gently sinking your mouth down on him. It’s a stretch but you manage, careful to mind your breathing as you bob gently, hollowing your cheeks for added suction. Expletive-laced moans drip from his mouth, his eyes squeeze shut as you continue to suck gently. 

Drool runs out the sides of your mouth. You let it, the stickiness of your spit and his presume slicking down his cock helps you take more of him in his mouth. When his tip brushes the back of your throat, he nearly growls, fully writhing underneath you now.

Seeing him like this is addicting, worked up and sweating, and falling apart. What you can’t fit in your mouth you grip with your hand, mouth, and fingers stroking together in time to work him up. Your mouth buzzes around him in a self-satisfied hum. 

Seokjin can’t help himself. His hands leave the sheets, one hand going to the back of your head, fingers pressed firmly. He doesn’t push or pull, his grip just firm and begging. The sound as you let him thrust a little is sinful and wet, the cough-choke of your throat accompanied by stilted curses. 

Suddenly, he pulls you up. Cum-mixed spit dribbles down your chin, mouth feeling stretched and swollen as you look up at him. His sweats are around his ankles, abs and thighs flexing as he leans forward, urging you upward. 

Your mouths meet in a heated smack of cum and spit and moans and teeth. Your mind is spinning as he cups your face fiercely, pulling you to your feet and up onto his naked waist. His hands pull at your shirt and you yank it fiercely, breaking your messy kiss just to toss it. 

Seokjin’s hands are warm and starving for you and vicious as he pulls your bralette off, adding it to the messy pile in his room. Steady hands cup your breasts, his eyes glittering as he makes a noise. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Come here.”

You fall forward but his hands steady you, lifting his head to catch a nipple with his mouth. It sets you alight, electricity snapping to life from the motion. You moan, head thrown back, eyes rolling as he nipples lightly on your nipple. 

“Fuck,” you squeak. The heat between your legs hurts, your cunting throbbing for him. “That feels so good.”

He hums, letting go of the hardened peak with a gentle scrape of his teeth, moving his mouth to lavish your other breast. His thumb brushes back and forth over the glossy peak, keeping it stimulated. 

You tremble in his grip, seated in his lap as he places luscious sucks across your chest. 

“You’re beautiful.” Seokjin’s words are mumbled in damp kisses against your collarbone. “You’re smart and sweet and generous and stunning.” 

“You’re beautiful,” you answer. It feels stupid to say, but it’s the only thing you can come up with. Everything feels fuzzy and you’re drowning in the praise. “Why is your discord WorldWideHandsomJin?”

“Shut up.” He rolls the two of you over, a whirlwind of limbs and giggles. “Cause I wanted it to be, and it’s true.” 

“It is,” you agreed, gasping as he slides his hand into your pajama shorts. His fingers brush over your damp panties, and he huffs a laugh when he feels how sticky wet you are. “More.” 

He hums and applies more pressure, but it doesn’t relieve the ache. “No,” you whine, clawing his chest. “Please.” 

“Because you said please.”

With a swift hand, he pulls your shorts and underwear down. You don’t have time to shiver at the cool air of his room hitting your pussy, his fingers brushing up and down. “God,” he groans, dropping his head against the side of your neck. “You’re soaked, baby.” 

Pleasure sparks as he thumbs your clit in gentle circles. You feel arousal flood the pit of your stomach, cunt aching and leaking as he slides a finger up and down, applying pressure to your hole before gently sliding into your cunt. 

It’s not enough. You get breathy all the same, the feel of his finger stroking your front wall making the world around you melt. Your limbs feel heavy and you shut your eyes, feeling the way he strokes your g-spot over and over again. 

“Another,” you gasp, hips bucking upward. “Please, more.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “Greedy pussy needs more?”

His filth makes your mouth pop open. He complies, though, sliding in another finger and fucking into you properly. He lets you roll your hips upward, trying to ride his hand as you chase the feeling in your stomach. 

It feels like you can’t get enough air, heat trapped between your bodies, static sticking to your skin. Seokjin feels like heaven and fucking hell, skin sticky where your bodies touch, thrumming with energy. 

And it’s so much - almost too much. You want him closer, want to be fuller, want the snap of his hips. You dig your fingers into his biceps, mouth brushing against his, words mumbled between pressed lips, “Please.” 

With a slick sound, he pulls his fingers from you. Immediately you miss the feeling, but you’re rewarded as he brings shine-slicked fingers up to his lips, sucking them into his mouth. He leers around his fingers, eyes dark. 

“Yum,” he whispers, bending down and licking into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on his lips. 

For a quick moment, he fumbles in his nightstand, pulling out a condom and breaking the foil with a soft crinkle. He’s painted a soft blue in the lights of his room, the changing colors making him a mirage of neons and soft colors, a haunting and stunning creature all at once. 

Seokjin shuffles you carefully up the bed, peppering your skin with kisses as he goes. Reverent hands stretch your legs wide open for him as he slots himself against you, giving shallow thrusts so that his cock slides against your messy fold. You whine, needed more stimulation, needing to feel full to relieve the ache. 

Grabbing the base of his cock, he strokes upwards again, letting his cockhead catch on your trembling hole. A stream of expletives falls from your lips as your head falls backward, your entire frame vibrating as he slowly slides in. You’re so wet that it helps, but the thick girth of him burns all the way until he is fully sheathed and your walls are fluttering around him.

“Shit, you’re fucking squeezing me.”

“Cause your cock is fucking big!”

“Am I supposed to apologize?”

“No, but please fuck me.”

You need the slide of his shaft against your walls, need to feel the way he hits so deep it’s like he’s in your fucking stomach. Seokjin starts a slow but purposeful pace, pulling all the way out before pushing back in, sliding his hands under your as to lift you slightly. The angle allows him to fuck your spot as he thrusts in, your limbs going slack as the feeling of an orgasm winds from just a few strokes. 

Seokjin fucks you with purpose, stroking a little faster. Sweat beads on his chest, hair clinging to his forehead as he bites his bottom lip, stomach flexing. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, your fingers wrapped around his wrist where he holds you, practically pulling you onto his cock as he fucks you open. 

It’s mind-numbing, everything else fading away as his room swirls in colors, punctuated by the snap of his hips against your wet ass and your high-pitched moans. 

You wish you could be more of a participant, but the way he makes you feel has the room spinning. He fucks you down into the mattress, the slide of your skin against his sheets added friction. Your head hits a pillow, knocking it sideways, your hand trying to find a grip on anything. It finds the wall and you press against it, feeling the squeeze of your breath in your lungs and the coil in your stomach. 

“That's it,” Seokjin urges, one hand leaving your ass to slip between your legs. He circles your clit and your eyes roll back in your head, the roaring feeling of your orgasm coming closer and closer. “Fuck your feel so fucking good - you look so fucking good just taking my cock like this.” He is the vision you think. Brow furrowed, lip tucked between his teeth, all tan, flushed skin and twitching muscles. You can't remember the last time you were fucked into mindlessness, no chance of cognitive thinking at your fingertips. The filth that leaves his mouth only sends you spiraling further, admiration-laced curses punctuated with moans.

You can only moan back in response, most of the sound stuck in your throat. You think you’re babbling now, mouth agape, eyes squeezed so shut that colors explode across your vision. He fucks you hard but at a medium pace, each thrust supported with his full weight, hitting so deep that you can’t breathe.

When you cum, it’s like a freight train hits you, the world going absolute white noise and numb. You lose yourself in the feeling, everywhere and nowhere all at once. You’re aware of the way your pussy pulses around his cock and through the buzz in your ears, you hear him curse, gasping your name as he cums just as hard. 

You have no idea how long it takes for you to come back down. You barely feel your limbs, the tingle in them like when your foot falls asleep but far more pleasant. You roll your head over to find Seokjin breathing deeply, skin glowing with sweat. His eyes flutter open as you stare at him and he grins, tired but genuine. Your stomach leaps. 

“I swear,” he mumbles. “Next time I will last way longer than that. But fuck.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard,” you admit, voice hoarse. “I think that is why they call it le petite mort. Holy shit.” 

He laughs and he pulls you in. With the shift of your limbs, you feel how sticky and wet your legs are, thighs pressed together in the mess. You make a face at the feeling, no longer finding it attractive now that you’re not actively fucking, but he kisses you and you immediately forget about it. 

“By the way,” he mutters, voice deep. “I won the bet so you owe me a favor.”

You grit your teeth, realizing that he did win by a single kill. “Fine. What’s your favor?”

“Not much, just want to take you out somewhere nice. Buy you a beautiful dinner. Learn all of your embarrassing stories from middle school and if you had an emo phase.”

“Did you have an emo phase?” 

“You’ll only find out if we go on a date.”

You smile. Your mouth hurts from the kissing and the stretch of his dick, but it doesn’t matter. You brush the sweaty hair from his face, his eyes fixed on your reaction. “Of course, I’ll go on a date with you.” 

“Hmm. Good. Now come on, I wanna fuck you in the shower.” 

“That I can agree with.” 

[foolishlovers]

CO-WORKER AUs: Below you can find a list of Good Omens AUs in which Crowley and Aziraphale are co-workers. (oh my god they were co-workers)

[Requested by anon. You can request more fic recs here.]

Hit me with your ledger by KissMyAsthma (G, 1k) Corporate accountant Aziraphale has been infatuated with his coworker Crowley for a long time, but he has done nothing about it. One day, opportunity strikes and… Sometimes, an accidental nude is all it takes to score a date.

Get Down by AppleSeeds (T, 3k) When Aziraphale calls downstairs asking them to send up someone to fix the fax machine in his office, he doesn't expect them to send the most handsome and stylish man he's ever encountered in his entire life. Hopefully he won't end up doing anything foolish to embarrass himself.

The Piano Serpent by journeytogallifrey (T, 3k) Aziraphale owns The Flaming Sword, which is one of the premier gay bars in London. Everyone knows this… except for their pianist, Crowley. While the regulars take bets over whether he's the clueless straight person he seems, Aziraphale just tries to prevent himself from falling further. But one night Crowley plays a song written specially to honor their regulars, and Aziraphale can't hold the truth in any longer. How will Crowley react? Will the truth really set them free?

Hold the Lift by CemeteryAngel725 (T, 5k) Crowley just wants to get to work on time, but when he gets stuck in a lift with new guy Aziraphale, he ends up with a lot more than he bargained for. See, Aziraphale has this list of 36 questions…

!False (It's Funny Because It's True) by MirjamOmens (E, 6k) Aziraphale drew a long breath through his nose. Crowley, of course it had to be Crowley. The new guy in the sales department, who would promise potential customers just about anything to close a deal. Arrogant, annoying – and wildly, stupidly attractive. Aziraphale hated him. Aziraphale is a stellar software architect and a project manager, who is so done with the sales department selling unrealistically scheduled and budgeted projects. And he definitely doesn't have a crush on anyone, thank you very much.

Bang This Out? by crepesandoysters (E, 9k) As far as work friendships go, Aziraphale and Crowley have won the jackpot. They work well together and know how to make each other laugh, the whole metaphorical package. They could even be called best friends. Or, at least, they could be called that until today. Today comes with a kiss, and the kiss comes with more. A lot more if it were up to them. Except that their workplace seems to have other ideas.

Cock Tales by TawnyOwl95 (E, 12k) Crowley’s love life is on the rocks so he finally swears off men. Typical that his new job places him with a co-worker who's so straight up sexy. Or in which, Aziraphale tries to mix things up, Crowley is shaken and Anathema is a right stirrer. But could a relationship be worth a shot?

I'm Beginning to See the Light by ineffabildaddy (E, 15k) There was Crowley - the paragon of cool, the overlord of apathy, breezing easily through each and every one of their exchanges and giving no fucks while doing so; then there was the anachronistic, cloying Aziraphale, trying and failing not to live life like a Thomas Hardy protagonist, and giving many fucks indeed. Or: Aziraphale has quite the pash on his colleague Crowley, who seems resolutely disinterested in him. As their annual Christmas party progresses, it appears that Crowley may not be as disinterested as Aziraphale first thought.

House Style by soft_october (M, 24k) “Since that's all settled, the real question is did he give you his number?” Anathema laughed. “He was looking at you the way you look at lunch.” “Forget lunch!” Michael declared. “He was looking at you the way you were looking at him!” Aziraphale is content in his job as an editor at Celestial Publishing, though he could go for a bit less of doing his boss' job for him. But everything goes a bit screwy when the CEO brings in a consultant with plans to build a program that will turn the entire editorial department on its head. If only he wasn't so handsome.

All Lines Are Open by TawnyOwl95, FeralTuxedo (E, 21k) Anthony Crowley, bored host of a trite call-in radio show on Tadfield FM, has very few pleasures in life beyond annoying his long-suffering producer Aziraphale. When a caller reports suspicious activity at the abandoned Tadfield Manor, Crowley is determined to investigate, dragging Aziraphale along. Both of them are going to get more than they bargained for. A local radio AU

Heavenly Wicked Cafe by WaitingToBeBroken (T, 33k) There is a terribly rude barista that makes amazing coffee and a saint of a barista, whose coffee tastes vile. And they are in love.

i've found a way (a way to make you smile) by curtaincall (T, 40k) Crowley worked in Sales. He had never intended to work in Sales. It had just sort of happened. One moment, there he’d been, a newly minted university graduate off to change the world, exquisitely useless Philosophy degree in hand, and now here he was, having sauntered vaguely downwards into a Hell that consisted mainly of cold-calling new customers and sucking up to existing ones.   AU based on The Office.

First Class (Hons) Christmas, University of Tadfield. by heloluv (M, 41k) Dr. A.Z. Fell is a renowned literature tutor at the prestigious University of Tadfield. December is upon the University, and Dr. Fell is leading the Christmas Charity Drive. He needs volunteers. Dr. A.J. Crowley is a skilled plant ecologist who recently began his tenure at UoT. He can't stand Christmas, and nothing at all could ever possibly convince him to partake in "festivities". Until a certain literary expert catches his eye. A Christmas and New Years fic, in which Aziraphale teaches Crowley how to enjoy the most wonderful time of the year.

because thinking makes it so by summerofspock, NaroMoreau (E, 41k) It's supposed to be an exchange. An arrangement. Something to make them both feel better and less lonely. But Crowley's never had the brightest ideas.

Tadfield's Finest by angelsnuffbox (E, 51k) The sleepy town of Tadfield is thoroughly shaken by the arrival of DI Crowley. Where barely anything ever happened before, there is now a bustle of low grade criminal activity, and everyone knows where to point the blame. Gabriel thinks he's a bad omen for the town, many others are quick to agree. Meanwhile, Aziraphale from SOCO just thinks he's hot. Ridiculously so.

Golden Handcuffs by seekwill (E, 70k) Far from any city, near the Scottish coast, Tadfield College has a celebrated history, an unrivaled academic reputation, and two departments at war. When the Biology and English departments are forced to share a building, Senior Lecturer and botanist Anthony Crowley finds himself drawn into the orbit of the polite but strange English professor, Dr. Aziraphale Fell. As the new term begins, two academics navigate the politics of both their offices and academia, and try to solve the puzzle of one another.

Wild Hearts by foolishlovers (E, 124, WIP) In the idyllic English countryside, far from the hustle and bustle of the big city, two teachers at Willowbrook Hall set out to transform their students’ lives through the world of theatre. But for Mr. Crowley, the challenge of navigating his long hidden feelings and dear friendship with Mr. Fell may prove to be the greatest drama of all.

Sugar And Spice by SylWritesStuff, ladydragona (E, 179k, WIP) Queer technology giant Anthony J. Crowley is just about ready to throw in the towel after relationship after relationship has failed, but there's a new barista at the company coffee shop and he's cute and sweet and Crowley's never been able to resist blond hair and blue eyes. The tabloids will have a field day, they always do, but his assistant is getting married and a temp is needed. A temp who really isn't very good at making complicated coffees, has past experience in reception, and absolutely no idea that the latest complicated coffee order came from the owner himself. Aziraphale only knows that he's handsome, patient, and was the first person who told him he was doing well. How could he refuse the temp position? Or, he soon discovers, more.

[you can find more fic rec masterposts here]

[fallingforyouforeverr]

Hey do you think you could do a dating Arthur hill headcannon it’s all good if not hahah x

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐢𝐥𝐥

summary: read request above

authors note: omg anon, i am so sorry that it took me this long, i completely forgot that it was in my drafts oops. i don't really love this as much as the other ones bc it feels quite rushed but i just wanted to finally publish something yk so hopefully you still enjoy!

please consider checking out my masterlist

-> you're each other's biggest supporters. you help him with music and videos, and are backstage at every show screaming along to the lyrics. if you were also a musician, he would do the same for you, and he would somehow find a way to mention how talented you are in basically every conversation it's actually slightly annoying

-> he would always make sure to be equally as supportive of you though, and would celebrate each of your achievements, however minor it seems

-> arthur values your opinion more than anything else, so you are always the first to hear new video ideas or the lyrics of a song he has been working on

-> he's probably written several love songs about you that he plans never to release. he might show you a few, but most of them are private – just someplace to channel all the love he has for you

-> lisa (his mum) loves you. even before you met her, she felt like she knew you because of how much arthur talked about you.

-> his friends definitely tease you two a lot but they genuinely think your relationship is really sweet and they are all just happy that he found someone who was so clearly made for him

-> arthur would never dare admit it to anyone but you, but he is absolutely a simp for you. he would literally do anything you asked of him with no hesitation, even at his own expense

-> 100% a quality time person

-> you feature in his videos a lot. like all the time. he just wants to be around you as much as possible!

-> dates happen practically everyday, often without any sort of plan and you usually just wander the city together until you find somewhere interesting

-> one of arthur's favourite things to do with you is going to small indie concerts of bands you have never heard of before, more so for the vibes than the actual music

-> your camera roll is full of pictures and videos of him drunk, as you usually have to pick him up after he's been drinking. arthur becomes very clingy when drunk so you receiving a call from george at 2am asking you to pick them up while arthur whines in the background asking where you are has become a frequent occurrence

-> he can also be very clingy even when sober, and this is only amplified whenever he is tired, jealous, or just missing you

-> despite you assuring him of your love several times, jealousy isn't unusual for him as he often feels insecure – especially next to his more popular housemates, which can cause him to doubt your relationship. these feelings never last long tho and his bad mood is normally fixed just through a quick reminder of your love

-> when arthur is a clingy mood he will often just scoop you up without warning and carry you to the nearest comfortable surface to cuddle. he will then proceed to literally lay on top of you so you have no way of running away to whatever you were doing before, not that you mind of course

-> there's never a dull moment when you are with arthur. all of your time together is spent laughing until your cheeks hurt and you can't breathe or just basking in eachothers presence

[usedpidemo]

Update - 3rd year anniversary! (and some future plans, a reflection, etc.)

Hi everyone! π here.

By the time this post is up, it'll be the 13th of May. Three years since I began my writing journey and this Tumblr blog. Three years. Time flies by so fast. I was close to graduating senior high after it was delayed because pandemic, had my graduation in an empty room basically, now I'm hitting my third year of college. Crazy stuff.

With that said, here are the stats + timetable of the blog so far:

First work: Sandwich (Wendy) (published 05/13/21, 4:03 a.m)

Highest note count: Tell your friends (Yujin x Wonyoung) (published 01/14/23, 1274 notes)

Number of works published: 91 fics (1 fic every 12.03 days)

500 followers: June 18, 2021 (36 days)

1000 followers: October 12, 2021 (152 days)

2000 followers: June 18, 2022 (401 days)

3000 followers: November 12, 2022 (548 days)

4000 followers: May 22, 2023 (740 days)

5000 followers: December 18, 2023 (950 days)

Current follower count: 5615 (1 new follower every 5.12 days)

It's been a hectic final month of college, so I apologize for the lack of activity in recent times :< But summer is coming up very soon, so hopefully I'll have all the time in the world to write more till then! I will say, a new fic is on the near horizon, so please be on the lookout!

I would like to take the opportunity to thank every single of you, whether reader, lurker, or a fellow writer for your support! Especially during these lull times, your unwavering support has kept me afloat and has been a motivation in continuing to write. Love you guys as always. Here's to another fruitful year <3

From this point, this part will be an overall reflection and life summary of the previous year, my thoughts on some personal matters, and some ideas I've been contemplating. If you don't wanna read this, you can stop here.

I miss 2023 quite a bit, not gonna lie. I know nostalgia can quickly grow warm and fuzzy, seeing the past through rose tinted lens, but I'll admit that 2024 hasn't been off to the start I envisioned it to be. That year was mostly peak for me, and I could even argue it's my favorite year to live out based on all my experiences. Traveling to new places, finally attending live events, interacting with my K-pop biases, and so on—it really felt like the best was yet to come with how 2023 flowed and transitioned into the new year.

Five months in, and I am struggling. Horribly. Most plans, dreams, and ideas have gone up in smoke, and it's just one devastating gut punch after another. I have a shitty professor in one major that basically made me check out of that class, and I don't know my family will react when I tell them I have to repeat said class because that professor was a dick. My family's been infighting on a daily basis, and I'm mostly collateral damage to them. Not one week can go by without some serious confrontation between them. There was a brief health scare with my mother, but that seems to be a nothing matter; thank God she'll be okay.

All this just makes life so deflating, in all honesty. I get that no life is without struggle, but I genuinely don't know when we'll be in the clear. Not anytime soon, I reckon. In these tough times, there's very little comfort except the past, when everything was pretty all right for the most part. It's been demotivating to write when mom comes forward with another grievance with my sister. It's hard to write when you have a professor who likes to power trip their students into submission. It's hard when you don't know how to admit to your mother that he failed his one class because of said power tripping professor.

But that doesn't mean I will let it eat me alive. I know we've been through some utter lows in the past. And we always get back up. If no one has us, then God does.

Summer break is fast approaching and I want to fix things. Even in my own little way. I know none of what I'm saying has anything to do with writing degenerate stories about hot K-pop idols, but real life circumstances have definitely affected me more than I can brush off. I should be calm, unfazed, undeterred.

After all, some stories are meant to be finished. They just take a more unconventional route. Ask Cody.

With all that being said, I will finish these commissions over the next two months. I'm really sorry to everyone who requested and paid for their stories months and months ago; I genuinely feel bad for not getting these out on time, but I am very mindful of quality control, and I have no one to blame but myself for being a slacker and lazy worker. Despite my feelings, I should remain professional—that's what being a worker means.

A lifestyle overhaul is definitely in my list of things to improve over the summer too. Figuring out how to get writing done, finding ways to alleviate my PokeRogue addiction (GOTY), whilst having a healthy work/life balance and not losing my sanity over it. Or worse, burning out.

And I want to take this opportunity to thank all my friends—peach, caps, majorblinks, chunk, frisky, raf, c.o, levi, sins, iz, ken, v1n, ddeun, notions, kevin, eros, brandon, kaede, svn, frisky, cray, rpg, prael—for putting up with my shit for another year. This life is tough, but you guys make it tolerable. Thank you for letting me air out my grievances even when it wasn't the best time to. I pray that when everything passes, I'm able to repay you all in some shape or form generously.

And to you, dear reader, for making it this far, thank you. Whether you've been with me since day one, or day 1094, as a commenter, reposter, liking, or just passing by/lurking, thank you for giving me a chance. Without you, all of this would have been for nothing. I don't know where I would be now if I didn't take that chance, that leap of faith back in 2021, and it's because of you I am able to keep doing this for the love of the game.

With grace,

Peter / π

[wangxianficrecs]

Rewind 2023 - Proud Author Spotlight

WangxianFicRecs - Rewind 2023

Here are some recommendations from 2023 sent in by our fandom's authors themselves. Make sure to give them much love. PS: Authors, don't be shy! Submit more Proud Author Spotlights!

~*~

I published my first MDZS fic this year.

It's a 60k time travel fix-it fic from the POV of several outsider characters who are all witnesses to Wei Wuxian's change in behaviour and the events following that change.

I tried really hard to stick to canon (novel-only) characterization and I'm really proud of what I wrote so don't hesitate to give it a try (it's complete too!) :D

We'll Build A Dynasty (one the heavens can't shake)

by One_eyed_God (@oneeyedoctogod)

T, 66k, Wangxian

Summary: Wei Wuxian is well-known as a trouble-maker, someone who likes jokes and chaos. He promptly proves this by disappearing without a trace from the Cloud Recesses, in the middle of the Lectures. But when war is on the horizon and tensions boil over, can his actions really be summarized as a simple prank? Or, the unbelievable story of Wei Wuxian, time traveller, told from everyone's point of view but his.

~*~

Hi there! I don’t know if anyone remembers, but I posted my first ever fic on Ao3 this year!

Jailbreaking

by CullenBlue (@cullen-blue23)

T, 21k, NHS & WN

Summary: During the Wen indoctrination, we see everyone escape during the fight with Xuanwu… except Huaisang, who had fainted earlier. So, in short… how TF did he escape?? The story of how Nie Huaisang broke out of Qishan, and the events that happened afterwards

~*~

Mod Kay himself here :D I published a fic this year where novel canon Lan Wangji transmigrates into the CQL-verse and saves post-canon Wei Wuxian, who struggles to keep himself alive during his lonely travels. It goes hard on the It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, but I promise there's a happy ending.

the roots

by thelastdboy (@thelastdboyy)

E, 30k, Wangxian

Summary: In one universe, Wei Wuxian had been left by the side of the road while Lan Wangji had become the Chief Cultivator. He found himself alone again, discarded and heartbroken. He also found himself to be a target again, as people started hunting the Yiling Laozu once more. He was all alone and just so fucking tired that he couldn't even bring himself to fight back. Some part of him yearned to return to the peaceful oblivion that had been death. In another universe, Lan Wangji's world fell apart in a single day. He was forced to bury not only his son, but his husband as well. Sizhui's Wen heritage had been discovered and Wei Wuxian's past had once again inspired animosity. While Sizhui would hopefully find peace at least, Wei Wuxian's soul had been destroyed and Lan Wangji would rather destroy his own soul than never be re-united with Wei Wuxian again. However, his late husband had left him one last gift: a path into a different universe. Or: MDZS!Lan Wangji transmigrates into the CQL-verse just in time to save post-canon CQL!Wei Wuxian. Together, they grieve and eventually, they find a home for themselves.

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for these hard-working authors if you like – or think others might like – these stories.)

[vylad243]

I’ve seen this idea thrown around a couple times and hardly ever with RadioStatic but Vox catching Malware/a computer virus is such a good and easy sick trope.

Like- just imagine Vox glitching out and unable to move cause the virus is trying to block access to certain functions. He’s severely disoriented and is just like “welp guess I’m dying again” which Velvette knows isn’t the case he’s so dramatic every ti-

But Alastor and the other hotel residents don’t know that Vox just needs a good reset/redone firewall and they’re panicking. None of them are good with computers so how would they know what Vox needs? They try the regular stuff like soup, ice packs, medicine, etc etc and they’re becoming more erratic (it’s mostly Charlie and Al)

Velvette gets there and fixes him in less than an hour.

I actually received a prompt for sick Vox that I'm working on right now! Hopefully, I'll have it published in a few days!

It's pretty similar to this ask, though, so hopefully, it'll check all the boxes you have!

Velvette is the true MVP

[longlivedelusion]

hi uh can you do a fluffy jegulus at some point? idk if you do fluff but uh yeah

@ninkiminjaaaj I absolutely do fluff. And I've been actually reading a ton of Jegulus lately! Hyperfixation, activated 😎

Been in a bit of a writing rut tho so this isn't as good as I'd like it to be, but hopefully you enjoy 🥲

+

You Made Me a Poet

Summary: Regulus gets too caught up in his writing, and James takes him out of it. Fluffy and lots of looking back on their relationship.

Warnings: None really.

"Reg," the sound of his name came with a groan as James peeked in through the door. "How much longer? You promised we'd go flying today."

Regulus didn't look up as he scribbled away at his book, "Just a few more minutes, I'm just about done."

Another grumble came from the doorway as James made his way into the room and onto the couch across from him in a dramatic huff.  "You said that half an hour ago."

Regulus lifts his head and blinks, turning his gaze over to the clock and his clearly perturbed boyfriend in the corner. "Oh." He looks back down as his nearly finished chapter.

He's so close to finishing a huge part of his book, and he's been on a creative roll all day which has been great. But then again, he did promise James some flying time since they hadn't spent too much time together lately with work and all.

Regulus's eyes turn towards James, assessing. "Okay, give me precisely 5 more minutes and I'll call it a day. I promise. You can stay there and time it if you'd like."

James sighs but nods, leaning back with one arm to get comfortable. 

It used to bother Regulus, having people around him like this. James especially. When they were in school, it took him years just to feel comfortable hanging out with James one-on-one, let alone having him there observing him while he worked. First, he was Sirius's loud, annoying best friend. Then he was his Quidditch rival. Then tutor and eventual friend. Which turned into years of pining before they finally confessed their feelings. Or, well, James did. 

If it wasn't for James, there would be so much that Regulus wouldn't have right now. An adorably needy boyfriend for one. A home, a real one. A decent relationship with his brother. Merlin, even his career in writing. If it wasn't for James, be wouldn't have even tried, probably would have gotten some ministry job that he would have hated, lived in an apartment alone, unhappy, and with no family.

But that wasn't his life. And so much of the joy he felt was because he had learned what it meant to be happy through James. 

As he finished up his final notes, James sneaks up behind him. Regulus feels a soft breath on his ear and arms wrap around him, "Time's up." 

Reg reaches up and back, stretching and using this chance to lace his fingers through his boyfriend's soft, brown curls. He gently pulls the brunette down to softly kiss his lips. 

Jame smile, but pulls back. "How was your day?" 

Regulus pouts at the loss of contact but responds nonetheless. "Good. I finished the chapter about the masquerade today."

James' smile brightened instantly, "Oh! That's amazing. You're about finished then aren't you? I still can't believe you've managed to knock out an entire book in less than a year! Well, actually I can but only because it's definitely cut into my quality Reggie time which I've definitely noticed, but of course I support you, I just miss seeing you so much you know?" 

Regulus's frown turns into a small, fond smile. "Don't jinx it," He warned. "I'm not finished yet. And I still have to go through editors and I don't even have an agent yet."

He feels James let go before he suddenly turns the chair, making Reggie yelp in surprise. "You're an amazing writer," he starts, eyes serious as they fix on Reggie's. "You're going to finish that book, get an editor, and then get it published. Everyone will buy it and love it. End of story."

Regulus raises an eyebrow at him, making James chuckle.

"Now you just need to make sure you don't burn yourself out before you get there, which is why... Flying!" James says, picking Regulus up bridal style.

"James!" He yells, arms wrapping around James's broad shoulders. "Give me a warning next time, please."

James softens, his arms securing tighter around. "Sorry."

Regulus shook his head, but the small smile blooms again on his features, one he reserves only for his adorable boyfriend. He lifts his hand, pale fingers tracing the smooth, deep brown skin that always felt like heaven under his touch. Features he could trace time and time again yet never get tired of, finding new lines as he aged, a new softness or sharpness across his jaw or cheek.

This man, the love of his life.

Regulus still couldn't believe it. 

Whether it was now or the first time James' hands laid flush against Regulus's own, their fingers tracing slow paths around their joined hands. Exploring, tentative touches after they'd confessed. Their hearts laid bare in a way neither had ever done, and now this whole new world awaited them. 

Regulus knew then, beyond a doubt that James was going to be the death of him. And the rebirth of something entirely new. And he wasn't so afraid, not if he got to have an enternity of that feeling.

And still years later, he had that feeling every time James' touched his lips, pressed a hand to his back or whispered an I love you.

Nothing could beat this, these moments. This life. Not when James was by his side.

[diazsdimples]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday!

tagged by @thewolvesof1998 and @wikiangela (you should 100% check out their works!!)

Here's a little bit more dad!Buck, I swear I'm so close to finishing chapter one and then I can FINALLY publish it

Eddie helps Buck get the pancakes ready (Eddie will argue he helps, but in reality, he gives Buck a shoulder rub while Buck cooks. After the great waffle-fire of last year, Eddie isn’t allowed to cook anymore) and when they’re ready, him and Buck trail out to the dining room with plates, cutlery, and enough pancake toppings to sink a ship. Aidan, who’s still sitting in Christopher’s lap, lights up when he sees his dads entering the room and claps his hands delightedly, before raising his arms, begging for Buck to take him. “Let’s get you into your highchair, shall we bud?” Buck says as he swings Aidan out of Christopher’s arms, blowing a raspberry on his stomach. Aidan giggles, the noise light and silvery, filling Buck’s chest up with a warm glow. Man, what he wouldn’t do to hear his boy laugh like that all the time. “Has cake now, Daddy?” Aidan asks hopefully as Buck clips him into the highchair. There’s a snort from the other side of the table and Buck turns to see Eddie sniggering into his fist, sharing an amused look with Christopher. “Food motivated, just like his Dad” Eddie teases with a grin. Buck sends him a playful eyeroll and turns back to Aidan. “Is pancakes good enough, my liege?” he asks, pointing to the stack of pancakes on the table. Aidan looks like he’s about to protest the semantics of cake vs. pancakes but he nods, reaching for a plate. “Pancakes good” he replied, stumbling a little over the long word. Buck places a plate on the table in front of the highchair, transferring a pancake to it and picking up the maple syrup. Aidan watches with fascination as Buck drizzles the pancake with syrup, using the flat of the knife to spread it evenly. Eddie and Christopher are hoeing into their own pancakes with the background and there must be something about watching his Papa and big brother eat that has Aidan deciding that he also needs to have his breakfast immediately. Buck fends off little, grabbing hands as Aidan tries to grab the pancake and shove it in his mouth whole. He’s trying to cut it into small, bite sized pieces with every intention of feeding them to Aidan, rather than letting the kid eat with his hands like they usually let him do. Buck loads up the fork with pancake and hovers it in front of Aidan’s mouth, frowning when the boy keeps his mouth stubbornly closed. “Baby, you gotta open up to eat” he says as he nudges the fork against Aidan’s lips, smearing them with syrup. “Do it myself” Aidan replies, reaching out to grab the fork. Buck pulls it back, a little hesitant. “It’s gonna be messy, Aid. Daddy can feed it to you so we can stay nice and clean” he explains, moving the fork towards his mouth again. Aidan crosses his arms, fixing Buck with a deep frown that has Eddie cackling once again. “I big boy!” he says, pouting. “Give up, babe, he’s not gonna back down” Eddie advises, and Buck relents with a sigh, handing the fork over to an extremely pleased Aidan, who immediately shoves the pancake in his mouth. “Bags not doing bath time” Buck says but Eddie fixes him with a sharp look. “I just did bath time, I shan’t be repeating that experience for at least another 48 hours, thank you.” “Looks like you’re up, Chris.” Christopher snorts through a mouthful of pancake. “You wish” he replies. “I’ll be helping Dad get the place ready for guests.”

(No pressure) tagging @disasterbuckdiaz @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @malewifediaz @spotsandsocks @spagheddiediaz @loserdiaz @daffi-990 @evanbegins @jesuisici33 @watchyourbuck @rainbow-nerdss @fortheloveofbuddie @wildlife4life @callmenewbie @cal-daisies-and-briars @fionaswhvre @smilingbuckley @weewootruck @monsterrae1 @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @fruitandbubbles

[aliensunflower-fics]

A Winter Dance: Has been REMASTERED.

Sooo to buy myself more time to work on other fics (Im trying guys I swear adhd brain nightmare) I have a little surprise to hopefully keep you all entertained this Holiday Season!

For awhile now the spelling errors, words in wrong places, and just 'could have been even better' feelings toward my 'A Winter Dance' fics have been driving me crazy, so slowly on the side I have been fixing them up. First it was just correcting the errors, then I just rewrote a little here, added a little more there and oops?

So as a special 'thank you' and my way of wishing you all a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays I updated the two fics here. Don't worry if you still prefer the old version I will keep them up on AO3 where I will also be publishing the updated version as its own thing.

Thank you all for your support, kind words, and patience with my adhd brain chemistry. I wish you all only the happiest of holidays and I hope you enjoy:

A WINTER DANCE REMASTERED EDITION:

The Winter Dance was widely considered by all students of Francois Dupont to be one of the most romantic events of the school year. Each year as the snow began to fall and teachers got there last minute exams in before the holidays the students would grow restless knowing that soon the time would come. The winter dance was the time for romantic confessions, heartfelt words, and shy first dances between blossoming young couples! Even those without dates would find joy and fun in the festive atmosphere dancing with best friends and eating snacks, it was a time of merriment and love or at least, it was suppose to be.

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A WINTER DANCE PT. 2 REMASTERED EDITION:

Adrien Agreste, was NOT jealous. He just wasn’t the sort! He had seen Chloe jealous often enough to decide that it was a ridiculous emotion one he had no time for! Why be jealous of your friends when you could be happy for them and support them! It was such a simple logical conclusion Adrien had no idea why that wasn’t everyone’s solution! Oh sure he had tried to explain his feelings to Nino, tried to make his friend understand what he was really feeling was obviously concern! But for some reason his best friend kept on calling him jealous! It was frankly starting to get annoying.

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[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part thirty-eight: "The Black Suit"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You finish up work at The Bulletin late, but Matt still asks you to come over while he's out as Daredevil and wait for him to return home.

Or

You forgot the red suit was being repaired, and that black suit really does something to you–which has Matt very much intrigued.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 5.4k

a/n: Another smupdate--this time featuring Reader very much appreciating the black suit. Because why the hell would there not be black suit Matt smut in FFTD? This is offically the halfway point (so far) of all the installments currently published on AO3! You can find the entire list of installments for this series on tumblr here. And if you're enjoying the series, let me know!

Staring at the laptop screen before you, the article you were working on for The Bulletin was finally written. You'd been working on it for the past couple of hours since you'd been at Matt’s and had been working on finishing editing it now. Though you'd been constantly distracted by how weird it felt being at Matt's by yourself tonight.

He had given you a key to his place not too long ago, wanting you to start making yourself feel comfortable and at home here so you could hopefully transition to living here with him in the spring when your lease was up. And honestly, you appreciated the fact that he wasn't rushing you with this and instead letting you both take some time to adjust before jumping into it. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't been already overthinking absolutely everything you possibly could about being in the same space with him all the time–hell, you'd be disposing all of your used period products at his place then. And if you got sick he'd hear and smell you throwing up in the bathroom. You cringed at the thought. Shaking your head, you tried to focus back on editing the article and not letting your mind spiral on everything Matt would inevitably become aware of with you living with him. 

Though that weird feeling of being here alone still sat with you. You'd gotten off work late at The Bulletin and Matt had told you he was already going out to do his Daredevil thing but he'd wanted you to come over anyway. To be here when he came home. Tonight was the first time you’d actually needed to use the key, letting yourself in while he was already out. 

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Maybe you just needed a break. The article was ahead of deadline anyway. You could just relax and watch something on your laptop until Matt came back. You'd thankfully convinced him the other night not to buy a television just for you, since he would never watch it and you already had one. You'd insisted you would just watch shows on your laptop when you were here. 

Saving your progress on your article, and triple checking that it was saved, you exited out of the program. You were about to open Netflix on your laptop, but the door to Matt's roof access opened with a loud creak and you jumped on the couch, throwing a hand over your startled heart. 

"Sorry," Matt's deep voice apologized quickly. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"I just wasn't expecting–" you said, closing your laptop and turning towards him on the landing. Your breath caught in your throat, your sentence briefly hanging in the air. He wasn't dressed as Daredevil–you'd forgotten how he was still getting the suit fixed from when he'd had the helmet smashed in the other night–he was dressed in the all black suit you had personally never seen on him. Swallowing hard, your heart still racing as he began descending the steps, you finished your sentence with a breathy, "You."

His masked head tilted curiously to the side as he made his way down the stairs. "Didn't scare you that bad, did I? Your heart is still racing," he pointed out.

"I–uh, no," you said nervously, your eyes instantly dropping from his mouth to the perfectly defined abdominal muscles the black fabric was somehow making look even more defined with the way it clung to him like a second skin. "I just–just uh, forgot that you–you weren't wearing the other suit tonight," you stammered as he reached the bottom of the steps, feeling your cheeks heat up as your eyes dropped to how thick his thighs looked in those tight, dark pants. 

He paused a few feet from the bottom of the stairs, his attention fixed on you sitting on the couch. His figure looked intimidating, dangerous, and incredibly muscular in the black suit as he towered above you across the room. Your bottom lip slipped between your teeth as your gaze continued to linger on his body, actively roving every inch of him so intensely you were sure he had to be able to feel it. You forced yourself to try and calm your breathing and your heart as you did, both beginning to get wildly out of your control. For some reason you desperately had the urge to tear that black shirt off of him with your nails and bite every bit of flesh you could get your teeth on.

Which certainly was not like you.

"You know," he said slowly, drawing you back to the present and causing your attention to focus on his lips beneath the mask as he spoke, "before I came in here you were pretty calm. Tired, even. And now I come back," he continued, his masked gaze gradually surveying you from top to bottom, the gesture raising goosebumps along your arms, "and your heart is beating pretty fast. Your breathing has significantly picked up." 

His mouth curled into a smirk under the mask and your thighs pressed together on the couch at the sight, fighting the urge to squirm under his covered gaze. You watched his tongue very slowly appear between those plump lips, his smirk growing even more when it had disappeared back into his mouth. Embarrassment mixed with your increasing arousal. He knew. He fucking knew how your body was reacting to him right now and he was enjoying it.

"You like this, don't you?" he mused, a gloved hand gesturing to his suit. 

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, heat burning your cheeks. How the hell was a handful of clothing items doing this to you? Working you up into a frenzy? 

He took a few step towards you and your heart stuttered in your chest, thighs clenching tighter. He hadn't done a damn thing and already you felt yourself getting wet at just the sight of him.

"Answer me, sweetheart," he demanded–the Devil’s voice, not Matt’s, you noted.

"Yes," you breathed out. 

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. You internally mourned the obstruction of half of his torso, but the position allowed for a better view of his thick arms. Desperately you wanted those arms pinning you down to the bed. Or a wall. Fuck, anywhere really.

"Why?" he asked curiously. 

"I don't know," you whispered back.

He took another step towards you, the smirk still on his mouth beneath the black fabric. "Lie," he called out, tone teasing. 

Licking your lips nervously, your hips shifted on the couch. Your cunt was aching and desperate for attention right now. He was toying with you on purpose, you knew that.

“I’ve–I’ve never seen you in the black suit,” you finally admitted shyly. “I’ve only seen pictures of it. On the news. Before I–I knew you.”

He took another step closer to the couch in those black boots. You could feel your own pulse hammering in your throat at the almost predatory way he was slowly stalking towards you in that goddamn black suit.

“And you liked what you saw, hmm?” he asked, voice low.

“The uh, grainy photos certainly didn’t quite do you justice,” you muttered breathily, eyes glancing back down at his abs again.

Another step closer, the smirk still lingering along that perfect mouth of his. “I haven’t even touched you, sweetheart, and you’re positively wet already. You like this that much?” he questioned. 

Hands fisting the material of the sweatpants you’d changed into after arriving at his apartment, you nodded slowly. “Yes,” you answered.

A pleased hum rumbled in his throat as he took another step closer, now standing almost beside the coffee table in front of you. “You want me to fuck you in this?” he asked next.

Something like a hot spark shot through your entire body, raising the hairs along your arms. You definitely, definitely wanted him to. But would he?

“Yes,” you whispered instantly.

The smirk on his mouth changed, shifting into something sinful and devilish at your response. He uncrossed his arms, waving you over with a gloved hand. “Come here,” he urged.

Nervously you rose from the couch, knees shaking slightly as you carefully approached him. You came to a stop right in front of him, bare feet just in front of his booted ones. One of those gloved hands came out, gently landing on your hip. Your skin felt like it was on fire underneath the layers of fabric between the skin of your hip and his hand.

“Before I fuck you,” he began, pausing to enjoy the way you swallowed hard at his words, “I’ll let you take a moment to appreciate the outfit. Since I can tell just how much you like it."

“What?” you asked, eyes narrowing.

His hand moved fast, darting out to grab your wrist before placing your palm on his chest. You could feel the solid muscle just beneath the thin, smooth fabric of his black shirt. Gradually he dragged your hand down the front of him, his hand still encircling your wrist. You could feel every dip and crevice between each individual muscle along his torso until he stopped your hand just above the belt looped through his dark pants.

“Go on,” he urged, smirk returning to his mouth as he released your wrist. “Touch me. I know you want to.”

He stood there before you, head tilted to the side as he studied you beneath the mask. His arms returned to his sides as your hand still rested low on his abdomen, just above his belt. Your breath was coming in even faster now, almost shaky with each inhale and exhale. 

Hesitantly, your fingers glided back up over his abs, appreciating the firmness beneath them. Your left hand carefully came up to rest just over the firm right pectoral muscle of his chest. Risking a glance up, you could hear the sharp exhalations coming from Matt. The smirk was gone though, replaced with something almost feral and wild as he held himself back from you. Hands shaking, both of them gradually made their way up towards his broad shoulders. 

Every part of his body felt so unbelievably solid and powerful. Not that you didn't already know how tone he was underneath everything he wore, but all that muscle wrapped in that clinging, black fabric, which had frightened and threatened countless dangerous criminals, as he just stood here before you motionless and willing was fucking exhilarating. 

Your hands slid up his warm neck, cradling his face in between your palms before roughly pulling his mouth towards yours. He kissed you back with a level of restraint that you certainly couldn't miss with the noises building in his throat and the tension growing in his body. When you broke away from his mouth, you heard the grunt of protest from him, but he remained still and patient as your hands slid over him while you moved around behind him.

You hadn't even seen the back of him yet, and your eyes adoringly raked over every inch of his muscled back visible along the expansive plane of his body. Immediately your focus dropped down–those grainy photos didn't remotely do his ass justice in these pants. Gradually your hands made their way down his back, a few of his muscles jerking under your touch as they went. 

Your hands paused at the top of the waistband of his pants. Your eyes were still very much focused on his ass that you knew was so round and firm and perfect beneath that fabric. Matt's head shifted over his right shoulder looking back at you with a grin.

"Go on, I know you want to," he teased.

Both hands quickly dropped down, landing on his ass over the dark pants. For a brief moment you paused, appreciating the fact that you were grabbing The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen's ass over those same dark pants that Katy had zoomed in on in the old photos of Daredevil's early days so many times before. Biting your tongue, you decided to take a risk and do something you'd imagined a few times too many before you'd even met Matt and had learned who the man in black really was. Your right hand released its hold, drawing back just a bit before you swung it forward, landing a solid but fairly gentle smack on his ass. Matt startled slightly for a moment before he glanced back over his shoulder, emitting what sounded like a playful growl.

"You enjoying yourself back there?" he asked, tone amused.

You couldn't fight the little grin on your mouth. You were, in fact, very much enjoying yourself.

"Quite possibly," you teased back.

A chuckle rumbled in his throat. "You need more time back there or can I move this forward, sweetheart?" he asked.

Your pulse quickened again at the thought of fucking him in the black suit. You hadn't even fucked him in the Daredevil suit before, though you'd certainly imagined it. And definitely would be imagining it more after tonight…

"And what do you have in mind?" you questioned him curiously.

He spun towards you the moment you'd asked your question. You trembled a little at the masked face that somehow was still hungrily staring back at you behind the black fabric. Without responding, he lunged at you, taking you by surprise before his mouth was on yours. His gloved hands grabbed you hard by the hips as he tugged you into his body so tight you could feel his own arousal pressing into you. He was kissing you feverishly in a flurry of tongue and teeth, his mouth only riling you up further. 

You were moaning back into his mouth, far past your usual level of arousal with Matt because of the damn suit as your fingers dug into his back, when you felt his hands moving down your body. Swiftly he grabbed you just under your ass and pulled you up onto himself. Releasing his mouth, you gasped out in surprise as your arms quickly wrapped around his firm shoulders to steady yourself. He was nipping at your neck as he began carrying you, and as you felt more wet heat dampening your underwear, you expected him to bring you to the bedroom.

Instead you realized he was carrying you to his kitchen. Your brows furrowed in confusion, enjoying the amazing feel of his mouth on your neck but wondering if he'd somehow gotten himself turned around. Until he very intentionally plopped you onto the kitchen counter before him, his two thick arms boxing your hips in from where they were positioned on either side of the counter. He leaned forward, lowering himself so his masked face was level with yours, mere inches from you. Your hips squirmed needily along the counter. He was toying with you again, you could feel it.

"I take it you've thought about fucking me long before you knew who I was," he murmured, the sound of the Devil’s voice sending a shudder down your spine. 

"Mhmm," you hummed back.

You were dying for him to touch you already. 

His jaw clenched tight at your admission, his head rolling back a bit as if that alone had turned him on. And then he was focusing back on you again, that dark smirk on his mouth–exactly where your gaze was currently focused.

"Naughty girl, thinking about fucking the Devil," he ground out. 

He was going to kill you with anticipation. 

" Matt ," you whined. 

"Hey," he countered, that sly smirk still on his mouth, "you had your fun, sweetheart. Enjoying the suit. Now I'd like to take a minute to appreciate the fact that you wanted me , like this, long before you knew me." One of his gloved hands appeared between your legs, his fingers gently resting on your clothed cunt. "You ever get off to me before?" he questioned curiously. 

"What?" you asked, eyes widening.

"You know what I mean, sweetheart," he murmured back, his fingers adding a bit of pressure along your sweatpants. "Answer the question."

You whimpered in response to the light touch over where you desperately needed him. Fuck you needed more than that. 

 "Yes," you answered softly.

There was a pleased hum that vibrated in his throat. "And what did you think about?" he pushed.

Immediately your cheeks flamed at the question. That seemed quite personal. 

"Matt, what're you–"

"Did you think about the man in the mask saving you in an alley?" he mused. "And then you'd thank him by letting him have you against a brick wall?" His fingers very slowly rubbed against you and a moan slipped out of you. "Or did you think about me climbing into your window late at night? Fucking you so hard into your mattress?"

"I–" you began, feeling shy as he waited for a response. But his fingers were rubbing harder over your sweatpants and you hoped an answer would get you more. "I thought about you breaking into my apartment," you breathed out. "Running into you when I–I came home from work." He made a noise in response like he wanted you to continue. Your heart sped up at what you were about to admit. "And you'd…eat me out on the kitchen table before fucking me over it."

"Oh sweetheart," he nearly purred, his fingers stopping and causing you to whine in protest. "I can most certainly taste that beautiful pussy, but I’m going to fuck you on our kitchen counter until you're a mess." He removed his hands from you, pulling the gloves off and throwing them aside. 

You most certainly hadn’t missed the way he’d said ‘our,’ but you were currently more interested in the fact that his hands were tugging at your underwear and sweatpants, yanking them roughly down your legs at the same time. Your own hands grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it up quickly over your head before you began unclasping your bra. 

The moment you saw his hands about to slide the mask off his face, you blurted, “Leave it on.”

His hands paused at the edge of the fabric, a slight huff of amusement falling from him. “If you insist,” he replied, voice deep as his hands came to rest on your bare thighs. 

“Are you done teasing me now, baby?” you whispered, staring at the black material obscuring half his face.

His lips curled upward at the corner, that almost feral expression returning. One of his fingers dove straight into your cunt and you sharply gasped in surprise before the noise broke on a sound of pleasure. 

“So impatient for me,” he mused, his finger pumping into you.

“Baby, please,” you breathily begged.

“You like calling the Devil that?” he asked, slowly dropping down between your legs. 

You eyed him below you with an unwavering gaze of your own, his mouth just hovering before your cunt. His warm breath was brushing over your skin, the sensation mingled with his finger still thrusting into you deliciously pleasant.

“I think you like it when I call you that,” you shot back.

Taken aback, his finger actually stopped its motion inside of you. Slowly, his masked face shifted up towards yours, gazing back up at you between your thighs. He was genuinely smiling up at you.

“You're damn right, I do," he agreed, tone gravelly. "And for being so open with me tonight, sweetie, I’m going to give you exactly what you want."

He didn’t even give you a chance to respond before his mouth was on you, a second finger slipping inside of you. Your head fell back over your shoulders, both of your hands sliding back a bit behind you on the counter as his tongue wholeheartedly lapped at your clit. After the building anticipation, your body had been yearning for attention. But despite how amazing it felt, you forced your head back up, your eyes landing on the sight before you.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was between your thighs as you sat on the kitchen counter, black mask covering half his face as he practically devoured you, two thick fingers thrusting into you with a vigorous pace. His grunting and the occasional sound as he sucked your clit mixed with the wet sounds of his fingers pumping into your very wet cunt in the kitchen. One of your hands darted out, gripping the material of the back of his mask between your fingers. A deep noise rumbled up out of him and vibrated along your clit. The sensation had your legs shaking. 

“Shit, Matty,” you whimpered, grip tightening on the mask.

With a loud grunt, his fingers slid out of you. A moment later his hands were throwing your legs over his shoulders before he roughly yanked you further towards him. You fell back onto your elbows watching as his left hand came up to rest on your stomach as his fingers took over working your clit. His mouth lowered, his tongue mercilessly fucking into you over and over. 

"Fuck," you whimpered, eyes focused on him between your thighs.

Your vision felt like it was blurring, your breath coming in sharp pants as Matt's tongue continued to drive you wild. But as your body shook along the counter, growing closer to your climax, you wanted more of him. You wanted him to fuck you, wanted to feel him inside of you.

You wanted him to let the Devil loose on you.

"Matty, I need you," you begged. 

His mouth came off of you immediately at your words, though he slipped two fingers back inside of you. You watched him lick his lips as if he was savoring the taste of you on them. The sight had you fighting your eyes from rolling back.

“How does it feel, sweetheart,” he purred, pausing as he turned and placed a sharp bite to your inner thigh that had you hissing out, “to be the only one who’s had the Devil?”

Surprise briefly washed over you as his fingers kept their pace, his tongue soothing where he had just bitten. "I–I am?" you asked, legs still trembling. 

He grinned at you, his head nodding briefly. "Yes, sweetheart. So how does it feel to finally have me?"

“So good, baby,” you breathed out, gasping when he bit down on your thigh again. "But I–I want all of you."

His lip curled back as he released your thigh from his teeth and slid his fingers from your cunt. Carefully he lowered your legs from his shoulders, rising to his feet as his hands helped you further back onto the counter. You whined in frustration at the loss of him inside of you, Matt only chuckling in return. And then he raised the two fingers he'd had inside of you to his mouth and obscenely licked your arousal from them. Your eyes were glued to the view before you, cunt clenching around nothing as you watched. There was no denying that the black suit did something to you.

When he lowered his hand, both of them landed on his belt buckle. Casually he undid it, the clinking sound of the metal exceptionally loud in his otherwise silent apartment. You swallowed hard, goosebumps raising along your naked skin as you watched him unzip his pants next.

“So when you imagined me fucking you,” he said, breaking the silence, “was I gentle?”

Your focus was on his cock as he slowly slipped his pants and boxers just partway down his legs. He really was going to fuck you in the entire outfit.

“No,” you whispered.

“And do you want me to be?” he asked next.

Your gaze shifted, making its way up to where you imagined his own eyes were behind the mask. Most likely they were focused somewhere along your chest listening for the truth to your words. 

“No,” you answered.

Hands landing roughly down on your thighs, he shoved them apart before he pulled you forward to the edge of the counter towards him again. A faint noise of surprise left you before his mouth was on yours, kissing you fiercely. You could taste yourself on him as his tongue eagerly fought its way into your mouth. Your legs wrapped around his hips and bare ass as your hands landed on his back, fingers digging into the solid muscle under that thin shirt. A moment later you felt his cock at your slickened entrance, and then he was sliding all the way in without pause for the first time. 

Your mouth broke away from his as a strangled moan flew out of it, your forehead falling forward against his chest. Before he could even ask, you muttered, “Keep going.”

Obliging, Matt didn’t give you a moment to adjust to him as he always had before. Instead he began thrusting into you over and over, his hips rapidly picking up their pace. Your nails dug into him next, clawing at his back through the black shirt as you held on to him. There would be nothing slow and gentle about the way he fucked you this time.

The sounds of his grunts with each pump of his hips fell right into your ears. You shifted your face so you could look up at him, but all you could see beneath the mask were his lips pulled back over his gritted teeth. Your own hips did their best to meet his at the awkward angle, but his were almost vicious in their motions, slamming himself into you over and over. That warm wash of your climax was gradually building to a peak again, easily brought on by the visual of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen actually fucking you and not just a fantasy you’d had in the past.

“You’re enjoying this,” he ground out as his pace picked up. “I can tell. You’re already so close.”

You nodded against his chest, whimpering out an affirmative noise that wasn’t quite a word. His hands slid a bit further back along your thighs, coming to grip your ass. He tugged you in even closer towards him as his hips abruptly sped up, Matt practically assaulting you with his cock. You cried out in a satisfied surprise, burying your face into his shoulder. The sound of skin on skin echoed through the apartment as that mouthwatering familiar sting hit you each time he bottomed out with his thrusts. 

His cock like this felt so good that you’d suddenly readjusted just a fraction along his broad shoulder and bit down on the firm muscle below you to keep from filling his apartment with your screams. A deep, rumbling growl fell out of Matt in response to your teeth. That sound drew your peak nearer, so you released him, shifting your mouth a fraction, and bit down again. The noise that came out of him next–a beautiful deep, low groan that he'd never made before–threw you right over and you felt your body beginning to tremble against Matt’s.

“Yes,” he breathed out, encouraging you in that dark voice of the Devil as he continued to grunt roughly with each sharp thrust of his hips. “That’s it, sweetheart.”

Nails digging into his lower back, your teeth still clamped on his shoulder, you reached your orgasm. Your eyes snapped shut as a shuddering moan drew itself out of you, your legs tightening around Matt. That pleasant wash of pleasure raced throughout your body as you came, still clinging to Matt as he continued to fuck you. 

It was a few moments before your mind felt like it came back to you, Matt keeping his pace. You released his shoulder from your teeth, raising your head to look up at Matt. His lips were pulled back in something like a ferocious snarl as he focused on you. 

“You close, baby?” you asked.

“Yes,” he grunted out, pace unwavering.  

You lowered your mouth, focusing on lapping at the skin of his neck and reveling in the feel of the satisfied vibration coming from under your tongue along his throat. Curious, you gently bit down on his pulse point–the sensitive place on his throat that you knew always drew interesting reactions. Matt's hips suddenly jerked sharply into you in response as you did. Your mouth curled into a smile against his skin, tongue darting out to lick the spot you’d bit.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned. 

You bit him again, a little harder, in the same spot. A string of curses flew out of his mouth as his hips began to stutter. He was right there, you could feel him teetering on the edge. Releasing his skin from your mouth, you maneuvered yourself beside his ear, so close your lips brushed his skin when you spoke.

"You feel so good," you whispered into his ear. "You make me feel so good, Matthew."

Matt actually growled in response, goosebumps raising along your arms at the sound. 

“Cum for me, Devil,” you ordered firmly.

“Shit,” he breathed out, voice strained.

His hips spasmed against yours a few moments later and then you felt him cumming inside of you, a growling moan tearing out of him as he did. You returned to his neck, sucking that particularly sensitive spot into your mouth as you helped to carry him through his release. He grunted roughly as his hips gave a few more thrusts before they stopped. 

You placed a kiss to his neck before you sat upright. Matt was breathing heavily, head bowed forward towards you and shoulders heaving. Carefully you raised your hands up, slipping the mask up and off of his face. His eyes were half-lidded, quickly searching for you with the mask off. A sheen of sweat glistened along his forehead, his dark hair mussed from the mask.

You cupped his cheek with a hand, drawing his face towards yours. "Hey," you said quietly with a smile. "There you are, Matty."

He grinned a drowsy, blissed out smile back at you, his eyes landing on your left cheekbone. "Hey, sweetheart." 

He exhaled a sharp breath before he pulled his cock out of you, settling you more fully back onto the counter. That's when you really noticed how sore your cunt was–you'd definitely be feeling this tomorrow. 

"I can't believe all this time you had a thing for the man in the mask," Matt teased, breath still coming in short.

You blushed, running a hand across your forehead. "I can't believe I just fucked the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen," you responded, eyes briefly darting around you. " In a kitchen."

Matt barked out a laugh as he adjusted himself, pulling his dark pants and boxers back up but not zipping himself into the pants. "If I had known what this did to you, I'd have pulled it out sooner," he teased. "Maybe I'll have to get it out again."

Your heart sped up excitedly at the prospect of fucking him in the black suit again. Matt's gaze fell along your chest, a cheeky grin sliding on his face. He'd definitely caught that increase in your heart. 

"I don't think my legs are going to hold me at this point," you said, sliding off the counter.

Matt's hands instinctively darted out to your hips, carefully steadying you when your feet hit the floor. Once you'd regained your balance, you felt more heat creeping up your neck, awkwardness washing over you. 

"What's wrong?" he asked, head tilting to the side.

"Nothing," you said, shaking your head and laughing a little nervously. "Just uh, just awkward being the only one completely naked here."

Matt smiled before he bent down and grabbed your clothes from where they’d been tossed onto the floor. He handed them back to you and you muttered a quiet 'thanks' in response.

"You can always stay naked,” he suggested slyly. “And I'll join you in the bedroom just as naked after we get cleaned up.”

Biting your lip, you glanced back at the counter. It was definitely damp. “I should probably scrub your counter after that,” you said.

“Our counter,” Matt corrected firmly. Another cheeky grin slipped onto his face as he grabbed your hand. “And I can take care of it tomorrow morning. I won’t be eating on it anymore tonight.” 

He sent you a suggestive wink and you couldn’t fight the giggle that rose up out of you. Your clothes balled in one hand, you followed Matt out of the kitchen and towards the bathroom, your eyes scanning over the back of him in the black suit. You weren’t sure if and when you’d see him in it again and you wanted to commit the real thing to memory over those grainy, blurry photos.

[skelebellie]

FIRST MEETINGS

million knives [stampede] x plant?reader drabble

synopsis: you meet knives for the first time. he thinks your someone else.

content warning: mentions of sharp weapons, blood, and physical altercations

this an equal household. i pine after all siblings equally. [aka i think knives is a goofy dude and his characterization in stampede is kiss kiss].

—————

it was a particularly normal day as you spent your time around town, discovering odd patterned geological formations that helped adhere the homes to the sand below it.

was it the smartest idea to go into a dark alley alone. no. did you think anything would happen to you in the middle day. also no.

you were lost in the sauce. failing to notice the screams of town folk as you observed the calcified rock. one moment you were holding it and then boom, it was dark.

when you woke up, you were shocked to be in a white room. it sent shivers up your spine, as the environment caused old memories to rise to the surface. questions could wait until later, for now you’d try to get out of here. hopefully the town was still there when you got back.

the door was unlocked, odd considering you were kidnapped.

you also didn’t have shoes on, thankfully that old socks separated the floor and your feet. you could sense your bag somewhere within the building, your body able to feel the shawl of plant material that you had been born with, always tucked into your bag.

it was like you were an assassin, peering around every corner and ears on high alert.

the closer you got to your objective, the quieter it seemed to get. an odd sense of loneliness filling the room.

you had found your bag and shawl, even your shoes (thank god, you didn’t have the money for new ones). the only downside being that some blondie covered in a robe was holding it, allowing light to shine through the transparent shawl.

you became defensive knowing he was touching something as important as your shawl, so you started making fast paces towards him. “Hey! You shouldn’t touch things that don’t belong-“. The sense of danger came first, luckily stopping you from making too much contact with the tail of sharp objects that wrapped around you. it certainly didn’t save your overalls, as a large rip formed across the front panel. damnit, now you’d have to sew it back again.

“anything plant belongs to me. im its rightful owner, a god” blondie chided at you, only causing more anger to bubble up to your throat. “J.J Doe, right? Elusive scientist who has published series of plant based experiments. No committee or board to shift through your work, your research seems to pop up in small town libraries. Never the same one.” The man stepped down from his pedestal, inching closer to you. You backed up, only for a reactive spindle of metal(?) to wrap around your neck. it swiped, leaving a sliver of blood and for the stop part of your turtleneck to fall to the ground. the more he keeps going the more work you’ll have to do to fix whatever clothes you have.

“i detest humans, a species of parasitic worms who use plants as tools for their selfish survival. however, I hate those who knowingly use their will to torture my brotheren even more.” he was too close for comfort now. a string of knives swiping close to your forehead, which you barely dodged by shifting backwards. the shift in weight caused you to fall backwards, rows of spindles wrapping around your legs, keeping you from getting up from the floor.

“should i take a finger for each sin you have committed. maybe slowly sever you limb from limb, so you may know the suffering of the plants who you experimented on. maybe-“ You were too focused on the rows of knives wrapped around your legs to notice that he now stood atop of you. crouching to straddle you as his eyes sent daggers into your mind, like a searing hot flash of static. “i should do it with my own hands. as disgusting as you vile creatures are.” his hand slowly began to approach your neck. his weapons should have instilled enough fear into you, but now you seemed petrified, tears threatening to pour at the very thought of him touching you.

“disgusting.” he muttered, looking down as you. his hand wrapped around your neck, and immediately began to squirm, your leg receiving shallow cuts as it brushed against the sharp cage around it. the contact sent an immediate blossom of heat from your neck. you wish it was another gang of badland raiders, anything but an independent plant. you covered yourself up to avoid making contact with anyone, trying to prevent the surge of information that you would receive and give which writhed out of your control.

behind closed eyes, you could see the blossom of blue, geometric shapes spreading from your chest to your neck, reaching out to the man who’s hand was around your neck. the closer it got the more erratic you reacted. It seemed like the man above you no longer intended to kill you, for now. Instead he fixated his eyes to the spread of patterns slowly approaching his hand, his own body reacting in a similair manner. the contact left your mind heavy with shocks of malice, anger, and pain? The scorching sensation caused a moan of pain to spill from your lips as fat tears fell from your eyes.

The man above you felt the fear over the connection, a dark pit of misunderstanding and embarrassment overflowing with an ebb and flow of confusion. flashes of images of syringes and scalpels as you held the blade towards yourself, harvesting your flash to run under analysis. you hadn’t been experimenting on other plants, you had been experimenting on parts of yourself.

the cage around your legs unwinded, as did the hand around your neck. you quickly moved your arms to cover your eyes, still unable to cope with the wave of information that was forced into your head. however, your action failed as another hand wrapped around your wrists to move your arms from your face, revealing puffy eyes and still falling tears. another hand came up to caress underneath your lashes, gathering the salty tears before they could run onto the floor.

“interesting. not entirely human, not entirely plant.” the contact caused a shocking sensation underneath your skin, flinching as his thumb made lazy circles on your cheek. you relaxed, feeling as if the threat of danger was finally over with. until the blunt end of a knife slammed into the already bruised skin at the base of your neck. knocking you out once more.

[pumpkin-spice-whump]

Okay I'm super nervous to post this. This is a snippet of my novel I'm going to be publishing later this year (!!!!) And i want to share a bit here. It is an apocalyptic thriller heavy on captivity whump. This is a flashback to our main character being kidnapped and sold. He just got out of the back of a semi where he suffered heat exhaustion. This is one of the pieces I'm happy with so far, so sorry it's throwing you in in the middle!! But hopefully I'll post a bit more as I get further along editing!!

--

Looking back, Jack realized how close he was to death those first few days. He should’ve been in a hospital on an IV, but you know traffickers. They don’t care all that much about human lives.

Every so often the driver of the truck would wake him up and make him drink water, pee in a bucket. He’d blink behind the stupid duct tape blindfold, fumbling for a sense of direction. Sometimes he could hear people talking and walking beyond the walls and windows of the truck and he knew they were at a truck stop.

Faintly, he remembered seeing posters on the inside of stall doors from a trip he took for basketball last year. About the sign for help. Again, he wished he cared enough about kidnapping to remember any of that.

“Can… can I go to the bathroom?” he asked, hoping for a miracle.

Something thudded. “Bucket’s there kid. I’m not looking.”

Jack had no way to know that was true. It was in the back of his mind every time. “No. I gotta like… go.”

It thudded again. “Yeah. I know. Bucket’s here.”

“I’m not… Not in front of you.”

“That’s up to you. But if you shit your pants then you are definitely riding in the back, so keep that in mind.”

He probably would’ve followed Jack into the stall anyway.

Every time Jack was done, the man would give him pills to knock him out, and then wake him up again.

This time, he shook Jack awake and made him sit up. Jack’s head lolled back for a

moment before he could fully wake up. He was so weak and tired, there was no way he would’ve been able to walk to the bathroom anyway. The duct tape was ripped off and he inhaled a deep breath before the water bottle was pushed to his mouth.

“You gotta piss?” Jack shook his head when the bottle left. “Good.”

Then his hands started to tear away the tape over his eyes.

“What’s going on?” Jack asked, tongue heavy in his mouth. He blinked hard against the bright light and was suddenly filled with hope at the idea that he was being let go. Maybe the man felt guilty and wanted to fix the error of his ways! However, after his eyes adjusted he realized that it wasn’t the afternoon sun in his eyes, but the overhead light in the cab.

“My leg of the trip is over. Keep quiet or I’ll put the tape back on got it?”

Jack nodded, too scared to do anything but follow along as the man led him - half carried him really - out of the truck and on the dark pavement.

They were at a rest stop, an abandoned one by the looks of it. The streetlight was off, the bathroom doors boarded closed. There was a broken swing on the overgrown playground.

There was only one other car in the parking lot. A man leaned against the hood. Tall, with a long face set with lines telling his age. Couldn’t be less than forty, maybe fifty. He was wearing a dirty jacket and jeans, like he’d been working outside all day. A baseball cap covered what looked to be graying hair.

The driver let go of Jack and he fell to his knees without the support. A hiss of pain escaped him as loose gravel dug into his knees.

“Will it do?” the driver asked.

The new man looked Jack over, never moving from his spot leaned against his car. “He will.” He reached into his rolled down window and pulled out a manilla folder, tossing it to the driver.

Jack felt like his skull had been cracked open and ice cold water was poured over his skeleton as he realized what was going on. It was a trade. A deal. A traffik. Is that what it’s called? He was being sold like an animal.

The driver took a peak in the envelope, nodding satisfactorily. “Will you be needing anything else from me?”

“Not at all.”

“Pleasure doing business then.” The driver turned to leave but Jack threw himself at his feet suddenly, wrapping his arms around his legs.

“No!” he cried, desperate to not be taken even further from home.

Even though he’d already been passed through two people and driven who the hell knows where, as soon as he got in that man’s car it was final. No more traveling. He was going home with this guy. How would he call for help then? How would he get away? He was taken and now being sold to -- to who?! Maybe he really will be raped. Or experimented on or cut up and sold for parts or--

“No please!” he begged. “Don’t, please I wanna go home! I wanna go home!”

Hands gripped his waist and he tried like hell to kick out, to fight back. He even tried to bite at him, but only got open air. Jack was just too frail at the moment. There was no way he stood a chance against this strong stranger.

The trunk opened and Jack threw his feet up, attempting to stop himself from getting in, panic enveloping him once again. “No! Don’t make me get in there! I won’t be able to breathe!”

His knees were kicked in and he fell right in, arms bound uselessly.

“Feel free to scream as much as you like,” the new man said as he slammed the door shut.

Jack did. He screamed and kicked so much that he did run out of air and passed out. When he woke, the trunk was open again, cool night air filling his lungs and making him cough.

The man threw a bag over his head before roughly taking him by the arm and dragging him out of the trunk. He ignored all of Jack’s tearfilled demands to be let go immediately.

“Some stairs now. I recommend you tread lightly if you don’t want to be thrown down.”

He did, taking shallow breaths like he would be able to hear the stairs better if he did. The bag was taken off of him after another short walk at the bottom, once he was pushed to his knees.

“You can call me Mr. Reeder,” the man said, smiling down at him. “And this is your new home.”

--

That first night was one of the hardest. Jack had to try to go to sleep himself for the first time, with no drugs or panic to aid him. The only thing he knew to compare what he was feeling to was when he went to summer camp when he was 10. First time away from his mom, like really away. He couldn’t call her when he wanted to leave, couldn’t hear her voice. It’s all encompassing, realizing that you are isolated. That you are alone in a way you never have been before.

But even at summer camp Jack knew that he was going to go home in a week. This? There’s no end to this. Jack might… die here. Alone in the basement without seeing his mom ever again…

He buried his face in his pillow and screamed and screamed. When he was too exhausted to keep going, he curled on his side and imagined he was in his mom’s bed with her by his side.

[chellerbelles]

It's Rogue & Gambit fanworks week 2024! Hurrah!

As usual, I've decided to try and cram all the prompts into one story. I haven't quite finished it yet, but I'm up to the last chapters, so hopefully it'll be finished by the end of the week :) And hopefully I won't have to sneak back to do any plot hole fixes ;)

My new story is Bonds of the Multiverse, which you can read at Ao3 (link above), or FFnet. It's a sister story to The Soul Matter. They happen at the same time. It's not necessary for you to (re)read The Soul Matter first.

Prompts for today are Alternate First Meeting and Robin Hood AU.

So, here's the thing. I've written a Robin Hood story before and have no desire to write another one. However, the idea of writing a Leverage story with an X-Men team does have a great deal of interest to me. So, in my new story you can find Leverage Rogue (Grifter) and Leverage Gambit (Thief). In my mind, the other members of their team are: Storm (Mastermind), Laura Kinney (Hitter), and Pyro (Hacker). Hopefully one day I'll get to write this as a one-shot, but in the meantime, I get to dream :)

Alternate First Meeting below the cut. This scene is one of the later scene in my story. It takes place after Uncanny X-Men #179. Yeah, we're going all the way back to the 80s before Gambit's first appearance was even published!

18 year old Rogue sat on the rooftop in quiet contemplation of the last day. She’d been afraid of absorbing anyone with a physical mutation, like Angel, because she didn’t know what it would do to her. In a way, the fear had been enhanced after absorbing Carol. There was so much about her mutation that she just didn’t know.

And then Pyro had melted Colossus’ steel form, and she had been asked to absorb him so that Healer could heal him.

She did it. It wasn’t to prove anything to the X-Men, who still didn’t trust her. She did it to save the life of another. She did it because for once she could actually use her mutation to help someone instead of hurt them. She did it because it was the right thing to do.

It was still the most terrifying experience of her life to date. After being stuck as a metal statue for what felt like forever, borrowing Angel’s wings didn’t seem so bad.

Movement below caught her eye. A motorcycle drove through the open gates and headed towards the front door. She frown, not recognising it, and flew off the roof to go investigate.

She landed near the front door just as the rider was getting off his motorcycle. He looked to be about her age, with long brown hair, and red and black eyes. He was so gorgeous it took her breath away.

“Bonjour chere. M’names Remy,” he said. “I hear this is where I can find the X-Men?”

[maybeiwasjustjade]

In celebration of s2 of HOTD, I have a few fics I plan to publish by the end of the season. Just a little something to hopefully tide us (and my hyper-fixating brain) over the next two years of wait.

However, I have an issue with switching around between works so nothing gets done. Currently, there’s 3 projects in the works, so I want y’all to vote for which one you find most interesting.

They’re all Green-centric, mind you (I just find them more interesting and fun to write and develop 🤷🏻‍♀️):

rivers always reach the sea (rarts):

Multichapter (the ultimate monster fic)

A rewrite of show canon where everything changes, yet ultimately nothing does. Canon diverges from 1x07, that has lasting effects on how the Dance is played out. The children are smarter, more ready, but war comes anyway no matter how hard they try to stop it.

Does include an OC—a second daughter for Alicent, and Aemond’s twin.

Starring Helaegon (but healthier), TGC’s Aegon, an Aemond with Therapy (that isn’t Vhagar), Daeron being important, Maelor existing, overall more prepared TG, shifting alliances (none of the kiddos promise), another Great Council at Harrenhal, even more dragons and dragon lore, a very specific timeline, and OC/Cregan ship.

A ripple into a hurricane/Second of Her Name:

3 chapters (but very long ones)

Set in a world where Alicent birthed 1 son (Aemond) and 3 daughters, thus changing the Dance altogether. A few characters are aged up, and others aged down.

To fix the rift between his family, Viserys orders for f!Aegon and Jace to be betrothed after the events of Driftmark; a marriage date set for after Jace’s 16th nameday. The Dance still happens, but it doesn’t start the same way, or even ends the same.

A chance to take a deep dive into the root of Aegon’s character if he had been born a woman, and without the pressures of his mother and grandfather, or the throne he didn’t want.

Starring Jaceagon (a Mess), Helaemond ft twins, an even more menacing Aemond, Rhaenyra being Rhaenyra, and sweet baby Daeron (whose just there for the vibes (for now))

Valonqar

3 chapters + an epilogue

A post-Dance AU where the Blacks won, and Rhaenyra lived to sit the throne. Jace lives, as do Rhaena and lil Aegon, but everyone else is dead. Aegon is now heir, Rhaena Lady of Driftmark, and Jace the Lord of Dragonstone. Jaehaera is the last of Alicent’s blood that lives

This story delves into how Jaehaera’s life would be like living as a hostage under Rhaenyra’s rule, especially now that her family and faction have been stripped of all names and titles. Jaehaera must learn to live as Jaehaera Hightower—the incest abomination daughter of the Usurper and his sister, in a pit of snakes where almost everyone wants her dead. Fortunately, she finds herself with a few allies that don’t agree with the queen and king consort’s treatment of her.

Also covers Jaehaera’s complicated history and feelings about her family, and the tragedies that befell them.

Though it follows a few notes from canon, ultimately Valonqar is a happy ending story, where Jaehaera gets to reclaim her identity and get long-deserved vengeance.

Edit: I would like to mention that despite the fics being TG-centric, they don’t include TB bashing. Critical of certain, much deserving characters yes, but hopefully written with nuance. Except Daemon. Expect Daemon bashing

[0nerd-at-heart0]

I just read your new Harvey fic omg I love it so much!!! Would you do a part two I know u want to create a lil universe I’d love to see how there relationship grows like maybe Harvey takes reader out for drinks and says it’s to celebrate wining the case but really he wants to take her on a date idk but I’d just love more of them

Thank you so much for the love and thank you to everyone who has read, commented, and reblogged my latest fic. It truly means a lot to me.

I do have this whole little universe planned, Harvey and Reader's first date, first time ;), maybe a jealous fic, maybe even going backward and writing the first time they met. I don't want to get too ahead of myself cause I know school comes first sadly.

But as long as people stay interested, I am happy to write. That said, I did write part 2 of The Stress of a Case (and I am working on part three ). Part 2 will be published hopefully tomorrow as I am currently just fixing up some grammar errors and sprucing it up. And as I finish up my midterms, hopefully, part 3 will be done in the next week or so or sooner <3. Anyone who wants to be added to the tag list please let me know :)

[loreleismusings99]

Two Body Problem

Ch 5

[Masterlist]

In which your students know more about how the two of you feel than you do, and Hana and Colin form a plan.

This has been in the works since December of last year, but this semester's been a doozy and a half and I didn't have a whole lot of time to work on it. So, before getting into the description and the fic itself, I would like to apologize for how long it took to get this done and also for it not being as long as other chapters--this might be the shortest chapter? I'm not 100% sure. I'm working on chapter 6, slowly but surely. I should have that done at least a bit more quickly and will hopefully have that published by the end of the month.

As always, thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this! if there's anything you're curious about or would like me to address or fix, or if your have any comments at all, please let me know. Your feedback means the world to me and keeps me motivated to keep writing this <3

○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

The steel lab bench stool was cold and harsh, causing Marta to squirm in her seat to find a more comfortable position. She adjusts her stationery and lab notebook carefully before looking up and to her right to start taking notes on the current demo the TAs are setting up at the front of the lab. You’re standing behind the desk, looking down past the fireproof tabletop at what must be the source of the clamoring and clanking sounds emanating from the front of the room. Mark pokes his head up from under the desk and carelessly tosses a bottle of what looks like isopropyl alcohol that you frantically catch before it rolls off the table and onto the brutalist concrete floor.

“Mark, be careful!” you whisper-shouted at what is presumably the other TA crouching at your feet to retrieve reagents stored in the cabinetry behind the desk’s front facade. “Do you need help down there?”

“Nope! I’m fine, totally fine.”

“We were supposed to start 3 minutes ago.” You crossed your arms, still talking to the floor.

“That means I have two more minutes before this starts getting weird--”

“It’s already weird.” You whisper matter-of-factly before crouching down to join him on the floor. The other pre-meds sitting at Marta’s table let out an audible sigh in exasperation, the freshman in question choosing to channel her annoyance into a more silent and harder-to-notice eye roll. The two lab instructors obviously have had a thing for each other since the beginning of the quarter; Marta’s had to sit through nearly two and a half months of the two of you getting under each others’ skin in what had to be the most flirtatious way possible within a professional setting. At first, she thought you two were already together--given the rather marital nature of your arguments during office hours--but after the last few weeks, Marta became certain neither were you two together nor close to admitting there’s something other than loathing brewing between the two of you.

At least, not yet; bets have been floating around the class on how long it would take either you or Mark to notice the obvious crush the two of you have on each other and how long it would take for one of you to do something about it. So far the leading guess was around 3 more weeks of pining before something gave. Which, at this point, was far outside the time left before the quarter ended--meaning Marta had to likely continue to sit through admittedly cute but still infuriating mishaps like the one unfolding before her now. She watches on as Mark sets up reagents with you organizing them in his wake and telling the class what each one was.

Mark finally reemerges from below the desk and hastily writes the name of the lab the class is working on on the board behind you while you explain the lab, lifting his palm off the board to avoid erasing what he's already written. “I strongly suggest that you finish making your agar gels by the end of lab today to give yourselves enough time to complete the rest of the packet next week. As always, please make sure you address every question in each problem statement.” You say, finally drawing Marta's attention away from Mark's entirely capitalized handwriting and back to the demo the two of you had started.

  The rest of the students are halfway through the first part of their lab while Marta completes the rest of the written portion of the lab, having finished the necessary prep before the rest of her table. She lets her focus wander for a second, trying to think of the best way to describe the process of microwaving water and what was essentially inedible jello mix, when her gaze falls upon you helping one of her classmates with their gel preparation. Mark, evidently not having any other students to help, follows you around a shadow. After resolving an issue the student was having with the magnetic stirrer hot plate, you stand from your position leaning over the desk and accidentally bump another student’s flask with your arm, sending it into a precessing spin before Mark catches it, uttering a “Woah!” that catches your attention.

You pivot slightly to see if any damage was done before apologizing to the student And turning to Mark. “Thanks, good catch,” you say through a relieved sigh and a chuckle, patting Mark gently on the back of his arm. The man in question smiles and nods with a hum, seemingly lifting his hand to pat you on the back in return before becoming visibly flustered and stuffing his hand into the back pocket of his chinos, a vibrant flush dawning his barely freckled cheeks. Marta rolls her eyes while you fail to notice this, just like you have since the start of the semester--oblivious to his obvious affection for you.

☆☆☆

Exhaustion tugs heavily at Mindy’s eyes, the calm quiet the grad office had settled into not helping while Mark looks over her completed homework assignment that's due in about two days. ‘Take o-chem,’ they said, ‘it'll be fun!’ they said. This is the worst; I'm a Mech E, I shouldn’t have to subject myself to this… she thinks, trying not to lament that she can't yet legally drown her scholastic sorrows in White Claw. You're sat next to him, working on what looks like grading from last week's homework assignment, somehow having most of the sizable pile done in what felt like maybe 4 days.

“This looks good so far, Mindy. Though, you want to be careful with this question here,” Mark turns the paper around to show her the problem in question; one on the indomitable Krebs Cycle. As he is explaining where she went wrong in this particular exercise, a stray few locks of hair fall into Mark's face, partially obscuring his eyes from view.

Mark tries and fails to toss his hair out of the way of his line of sight, but succeeds in catching your attention. There was a rumor floating around the class that the two of you were an item, but given how much the two of you argue, Mindy found that hard to believe. Well, she used to at least. The last couple of weeks, the way you've been looking at Mark suggested the two of you somehow achieved a level of familiarity that Mindy didn't think you two were capable of. Looking up, you tsk softly before reaching over and tucking the rogue hair behind his ear. “You need a haircut,” you say plainly before returning to grading. You rest your chin on the hand you used to brush back Mark's hair and regard the paper in front of you with a soft pout, resuming the grading that you’re in the middle of.

Mindy looks back at Mark only to see him sort of just… frozen in place, looking off into the distance through the table with a dumbfounded twist to his otherwise blank features. “...You okay?” Mindy asks carefully, not sure what to do with the sudden stillness.

Mark looks up at Mindy before smiling and saying, “peachy--” and continuing to walk her through the rest of the problem, with Mindy gawking incredulously at Mark, her face twisted into a slight sneer.

  “Thanks, I think that's it for now. Can I email a scan of this to you by tomorrow morning for you to look over before I turn it in?” Mindy asks, tossing her hair over her shoulder and adjusting her backpack on her other shoulder. She was thankful to be done, her stomach rumbling along with her intense craving for the leftover bibimbap she packed from her last visit to her mom's the weekend prior.

“For sure,” Mark responds with a smile. “Good luck; I know it's hard stuff, but you're doing great, don't get discouraged.” Mindy laughs out an ‘I'll try’ before walking out of the combined cubicle space you and Mark have taken up. A soft scoff causes Mindy to turn around and look back at the two of you. Mark is halfway sitting on the table you're sitting at, now looking up and away from your pile of grading at the man in front of you. Mindy can almost physically see the hearts in your eyes as you gaze up at Mark, visibly trying to stifle your laughter at whatever Mark is saying. Mindy rolls her eyes before she turns back around, shaking her head at how cute the two of you are likely unknowingly being.

☆☆☆

Despite the faint squeaking of the dry-erase marker against the whiteboard, Sid’s eyes continue to droop, threatening to whisk them away into a deeper slumber than they should be in considering they’re in the middle of an organic chemistry lab. I really need to stop pulling all-nighters… they think, succumbing to a small hypnagogic jerk and almost falling off their stool. The jolt gives them a new wave of lucidity that allows them to focus their eyes on you reading what must be class notes, arm frozen in mid-stroke as you read the packet you’re clutching in your left hand.

“That’s too many s’s,” Mark says, interrupting your train of thought. He’s leaning nonchalantly against the fireproof tabletop of the desk the two of you are behind looking directly at the ‘asssignments’ underlined above the checklist you’re writing on the board. You let out a huff and rewrite the word before continuing to write out the due date for the last lab.

The dirty-blonde man stands up from his previous position halfway sitting on the fireproof table top of the desk at the front of the lab room and leans across the exceedingly short distance between the two of you, presumably to read over your shoulder. “You okay? You're more quiet than usual,” he whispers under his breath, trying and failing to conceal his concern for you.

“I'm peachy…” you pause and look to the side at Mark before inhaling surprisingly deeply and turning back to the board. “Just tired.”

Mark ‘tsk’s before turning His attention back to the whiteboard. “You've gotta get a better sleep schedule, you look like death.”

This causes you to pause your writing and turn your torso around so you're facing Mark fully. “You and I both know you have no right lecturing me on my sleep patterns,” Mark opens his mouth to retort and is stopped by you raising a hand between the two of you, your index finger forcing his mouth shut, “especially not after last night.”

This causes everyone in the class to perk up; Sid tries their best not to participate in the bet on your and Mark's relationship status, but the intrigue is too much for them to ignore, and the distraction was a welcome one given the stress that comes with ending a quarter. Naturally, they had their money on the two of you cracking before the end of the month, and they were starting to get desperate with finals week merely a couple of weeks away. Common you morons, I could really use the extra money…

Mark frowns and talks in a muffled slur through the pin your finger has his lips in. “You don't know my sleep schedule; for all you know I could be the healthiest sleeper on the planet--”

“So the person who called me last night asking for help on the Carnot engine homework due tomorrow was actually just some rando who looks and sounds exactly like you?” You interrupt, retracting your hand to rest it on your hip and sending the classroom into a poorly concealed fit of giggles.

The two of you snap your heads towards the audible glee and suddenly become aware of the class seated in front of you. You cover your mouth trying to suppress giggles of your own when Mark utters a pained, “Come on guys, don't laugh at that, it's not funny--”

“It kind of is” Sid pipes up from their spot in the back of the room.

“It totally is not, please don't encourage them,” Mark says, forcing his response through the beginnings of a laughing fit of his own.

“Alright, alright--” you interject, waving your hands in surrender, “let's get started, folks.”

☆☆☆

Hana lets out what has to be the biggest yawn she’s ever had and tries to rub the sleep from her eyes. The episode they’ve just completed winds to a close as Colin reaches over and lazily turns off the television and slumps back into the cushions of Vanessa’s Lazyboy she thrifted what feels like forever ago. I need to call her soon, she was supposed to be back by now… Hana thinks solemnly before looking over her shoulder at you and Mark fast asleep on the futon next to her spot on a beanbag between the two pieces of furniture.

“God, they’re hopeless…” Colin whispers in exasperation as Hana takes in the sickeningly adorable display before her. You and Mark are practically wrapped around each other; you’ve leaned back and the curve of the futon’s armrest is canting your head and face into Mark’s hair as he uses your torso as a pillow, his arms wrapped around your middle. “What’s worse is that they’ll probably wake up like that and act like that never even happened. Either that or they’ll isolate themselves from each other. Whatever serves their denial more.” Colin laments.

“My money’s on them isolating themselves,” Hana points at the two of you with her thumb before continuing, her voice barely above a whisper. “Did you know their students have a running bet on how long it’ll take for either one of them to make a move? I ran into one of them in the quad and they asked me if I knew them and if they were together yet; they looked genuinely disappointed when I said they weren’t!”

“If only we could lock them in here, then they’d have no choice but to work it out,” Colin chortled silently.

“... Actually, that’s not that bad of an idea--”

“Locking them in here? Hana, that’s a terrible idea, there’s an equally as high probability that they’d rip each others’ heads off--”

“No, we can’t lock them in here, but we can leave them alone to work this out for themselves.” Colin frowns at Hana, tacitly asking her to explain herself before Hana continues. “I have work tomorrow, I can take you back home on my way over, but what if we just leave them both here in the morning?”

“Hana, that makes no sense, they’ll see through this instantly. And what if they still do nothing and remain comfortably in the emotionally constipated status quo they’ve cultivated?”

“The ball would be in their court at that point, so what happens happens. If it doesn’t work then we can try something else…”

“... Are you suggesting what I think you are?” Colin asks incredulously, voice still low so as not to wake the sleeping lovebirds.

“If you think I’m suggesting a full, multi-step intervention to get the two of them together, then yes absolutely,” Hana exclaims in hushed excitement. “This has been going on for too long, I think my brain will actually melt if I have to listen to either one of them deny their feelings any longer,” Hana grumbles to Colin who has to stifle a laugh before he nods.

“Alright, I’m in, but I still think leaving them alone here together isn’t gonna do anything.” Colin crosses his arms before kicking his feet up onto the coffee table in front of him.

“You never know,” Hana retorts almost silently, “maybe this is what they need to finally get the gears turning in their heads and stop lying to themselves about how they feel.”

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