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setsugekka · 1 year

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❥hedonism (m)

↳ Spring break with your boyfriend Jisung was supposed to be relaxing, except for the fact that you desperately want to fuck his best friend, Changbin.

han jisung x fem!reader, seo changbin x fem!reader — friends with benefits, drama, porn with plot, explicit sexual content. [10,2k wc] cws: infidelity!! themes of sexual incompatibility, bad decisions, alcohol consumption, penetrative sex (protected), rough sex, dirty talk, praise, Changbin has a Big Dick, play possessiveness.

Jisung was kind.

Kind is enough, isn’t it?

Really, Han Jisung was so much more than the absolute, resounding kindness that he showed you, and everyone else, equally. He was attentive — so interested in you and everything that made you, you. All of your bizarre, niche interests, Jisung was always there to listen. In the early months of the relationship, many late nights were shared together talking about your goals, your futures, your dreams — both individually and in a potential state of togetherness. An almost blind, hopeful optimism that he showed that admittedly; you hadn’t shared, but being with Jisung changed you in small ways. Very particular ways. Ways that you thought made you a better person.

For yourself. For him, maybe?

A man that physically, perhaps strayed a bit from your usual type of interest. Not bad, far from ugly, but not the usual visual appeal that would have piqued your interest in an instant. You considered that this was perhaps a bit of the oil on the proverbial flame of your love for him, and you did love him — quite early on, at that. Only weeks into the relationship, that the L-word was dropped from your lips — holding hands and stargazing one humid, summer night. Jisung reciprocated with what felt like the absence of a second thought about it, as if he had already known long before you had, and still, only weeks into your partnership with him.

Within the throes of the honeymoon stage, everything seems surmountable — if even paid the smallest modicum of acknowledgment to begin with.

But you loved him. You loved the way he smiled at you and was tirelessly into you and all of the quirks that came with. It was easy to discuss the future with him; timelines for marriage, kids, careers…all of the future life goals that would result in the make or break of any relationship. The concept of “insurmountable”, never an issue with Jisung. He was on board with you, with anything that resulted in you.

And in the bliss of new relationship energy, it’s easy to miss the warnings — when someone looks at you with all of their love and adoration, sometimes it’s easy to tell yourself, “we can get past this,” about anything. Everything, even. “We can work through that,” “it’s not a big deal, I can live with that.”

You always want for it to be true, and we’ll do everything to make it such. Everything to compartmentalize our wants, our needs. We tell ourselves that no one will ever, truly, be perfect — that we will always have to give something up for all of the other shining attributes of someone.

Jisung could never make you come.

It wasn’t necessarily inexperience, at least, not based on his tellings. Not a lot of experience, but plenty — and the same for yourself, you knew how to make yourself come, and ultimately, that’s always what it would come down to. In the beginning, hours could be spent in the attempt; a ready and absolutely willing partner, trying to learn the ins and outs of your body and preferences, only to fall flat every time. Multitudes of failure eventually beginning to weigh heavy on him — not by his own admission, but you could tell — sessions began running shorter and shorter, with less emphasis on attempting to reach a place that was seemingly unreachable altogether, for him.

The two of you gave up talking about it, supplemented with toys. Both of you happy enough with the arrangement — but neither thrilled by it.

Spring break rolls around the corner and Jisung tells you that he and seven of his guy friends are renting a large home for two weeks — partying and lounging and other such debauchery to take place, you sigh and smile at him — Jisung’s youthful enjoyment of the world always being such a bright spot to your otherwise regular outlook on the world around you. It’s not that you were negative, or dull — Jisung just shone so brightly in comparison. It was a light that you never wanted to see go out, and to the best of your ability, this was your goal.

And you loved him, as he loved you — what else could there be?

Around the eight month mark of your partnership, Jisung invites you out to dinner with all of the guys he would be sharing a place with for the upcoming weeks. Most of them you had already met in smaller groups or circumstances; Jisung conning them into third wheeling a date of yours that you later had to apologize for, and your wonderful, hopelessly optimistic boyfriend having only realized the error of his ways after the fact. Naturally. It was so Han Jisung of him.

Gripping tightly to his hand as the two of you enter the establishment — a large BBQ joint halfway across town — a bit closer to where the shared home would be, but not far out from your own apartment, either, Jisung strokes your thumb with his own in an effort to share his positivity with you through contact. He pushes the door open and motions for you to enter ahead of him, only whispering “it’ll be fine, don’t worry, you know most everyone already, just be yourself” as you walk by him. Smiling at the words, you catch eyes with one of the friends you are familiar with, and thankfully, the one that you had gotten along with the best, as well.

“Get over here already,” Minho says, quickly standing upon seeing you and shouting across the restaurant, so loudly that it’s almost embarrassing. “We’ve been waiting!”

“You know Jisung takes forever to get anywhere,” you respond when you finally reach the large table, reaching towards the man and hugging him as a hello.

“Hey!” Jisung retorts, but unable to refute the claim. He instead opts for introducing you around the table. “You know most of these dummies already, but the two you haven’t met—” he pauses to point at them, as if you’re incapable of the process of elimination yourself. “Seo Changbin, Kim Seungmin”

“Nice to meet you,” you say, and the two of them allow for the same in response.

Everyone is kind, which you expect. You don’t take Jisung for the type of man who could involve himself with the type of people that weren’t — despite all of the varying personalities present, everyone was more than happy to welcome you — include you, invite you back to the house to show you around. You explain that you have work in the morning and thus can’t, but that you’re sure you’ll be over soon, and everyone begins talking amongst themselves about how to plan for the welcoming party, as if you were moving in, or something. It’s heartwarming, being so welcomed into a group of strangers.

Jisung’s hand moves to your thigh as he sits next to you, laughing with his friends, and squeezes it lightly — affirmation that he’s there and he’s proud of you, that you’re doing great and he always knew you would. It feels nice.

It also feels bad.

You hate to admit it, so you wouldn’t even consider doing such — gun to your head and all — but it’s the man sitting on the other end of the lengthwise table that unfortunately catches your eye a bit more than you had liked. The truth was, that all of Jisung’s friends were good-looking men; in fact, you wondered how he managed to wrangle up so many to begin with, but the thought is fleeting and replaced by the attention served on Changbin. Black t-shirt and short, brown hair, nice lips and even nicer arms. Certainly a man that works out, cares about the way he looks, and wants everyone to notice it.

And you are, much to your guilt.

But you figure — nothing wrong with looking. Everyone looks. A common and damaging misconception within a relationship that ones libido simply dies for all others upon entering a monogamous partnership with another person — that both parties are to never see, experience, acknowledge the existence of another attractive human being ever again; and if you do, that you’re wrong, you’re broken, you’re a bad person. It’s bullshit.

However, suppose it does become a bit trickier when the object of your admiration is one of your partners best friends.

The part that you do allow yourself to experience guilt over, is the subtle wishing in the back of your mind — that maybe Jisung had looked like that. That yes, all things considered, Jisung was the perfect match — and yet, you can’t help but yearn for more.

A starkly human flaw, the innate pursuit of perfection. Of pleasure.

You’ve lost count by now, how many times Jisung has been unable to get you there, without battery powered assistance.

And you want nothing more than for this to be enough, so much so that you’re willing to lie, and pretend — to him, to yourself — that it is, that you’re happy with this, that you’re fulfilled.

When Jisung asks in one particularly low moment, unable to deny himself of the desire to seek the praise that he feels deep down he does not deserve, you cave and grant it to him.

‘Do you miss it?’

The feeling of coming around hands or mouths or other such appendages that were not your own, and in these moments of complete vulnerability, what is one to do but lie?

Are you strong enough to bear the burden of the truth? Be the deliverer of it?

And you believe in the moment, that the both of you are simply agreeing to exist in the fairy tale of satisfaction, because the alternative is far too great to take on.

But you do remember what it’s like — a memory brought closer and closer to the forefront of your mind each and every time that your loving, wonderful, boyfriend fails. Each and every time.

“Hey uhh—” you shout into the front door of the home, seemingly empty despite you having been invited to be there. “Is anyone…home?”

You hear vague sounds akin to a television in the living room and take it upon yourself to enter — you were invited, after all. Kicking your shoes off and dropping your bag, you carefully tiptoe through the hallway entrance towards the sounds of people talking through a speaker — and turning the corner, you’re delighted to find someone, after all.

Not who you’re looking for, however. far from it.

“Oh shit, sorry, I didn’t hear the door,” he says, sitting up from the couch and fumbling for the remote to turn the volume on the television down. “Our door bell is broken, so—”

“It’s fine, sorry for just walking in, Ji—”

“Nah, it’s cool,” he says, waving a hand without a care in the world about who walks into their home, seemingly. “It’s spring break, we figure people are just gonna be coming and going anyways.”

Seo Changbin. He apparently only owns black shirts that fit his figure exquisitely.

You wish that you could be a bit more vague about your carnal interest in the man, however, when he catches the way you watch him. The two of you make eye contact for a moment and you can feel your ears pick up heat. Changbin doesn’t break eye contact first — peculiar — a game to him, perhaps?

You’re not happy about the way this situation is already beginning to get out of hand, either.

“You want a drink?”

Words so sudden, you barely even hear them over the sound of your thoughts of Changbin bending you over the back of the couch he’s currently seated on and turning you out. Guilt. You shouldn’t. You can’t. Stop.

You stutter for a reply, “um, water is fine, yeah,” and watch as Changbin chuckles to himself as he stands — walking towards, and then right by you on his way to the kitchen.

But not before flashing you a knowing raise of his eyebrows as he passes.

“Do you know when Ji will be back?” you ask, tone far more wobbly than you had wanted it to be. Pathetic.

You watch Changbin move through the kitchen, opening numerous cabinets in an attempt to find a glass before eventually locating one and heading into the fridge thereafter. “Probably like, 10-15 minutes? He and Hyunjin ran to the store for alcohol and shit, shouldn’t be long it’s not far.”

Raising the glass as if to inform you of it’s ability to be retrieved, you head over to the kitchen island and take it from his hand, sipping gently from the rim, attempting to ignore the way the man is watching your every move as you do.

“Are you staying the night?”

It shouldn’t be that jarring of a question — in fact, it’s a pretty normal one for a housemate to ask, but your thoughts running rampant in all of the directions that they shouldn’t be has you far more susceptible to the horrors of, well, Changbin saying anything to you at all.

“Yeah, think so,” you reply, sheepishly. Since when are you sheepish, you wonder?

“Cool,” is all he says, grabbing a sweater off one of the swiveling chairs and heading towards the staircase — presumably up to his room. You think for a moment, that you made it out relatively unscathed from this interaction.

“Y'all keep it down then, alright? My room’s right across the hall”

And it’s cheeky, based on his tone. Likely not meaning anything by it, but the thought of Changbin being able to hear Jisung fuck you makes your skin run hot. Would he listen? Would he want to listen? Would he…jerk off to it? Then the thoughts of him touching himself, hand wrapped tightly around himself at the sounds of you…not coming.

A bit of a damper on the impromptu fantasy.

But it’s just in that moment that you hear Hyunjin and your man barreling through the front door, with what seems like twenty bags of assorted alcoholic beverages, bottles and mixers, with more still in the car, as Hyunjin happily informs.

There’s a certain moment that night, when Jisung is grinding into you — lips pressed against your neck and a hand wrapped in your hair — that his pelvis hits just right and you’re so close; so, so, close that you just about resort to begging for him not to stop, to please get you there, please topple this one issue that grows and grows but can’t be spoken about. You think again, about Changbin telling you to keep it down, and in a moment of weakness you cry out louder, and it truly does almost get you there.

Almost, which unfortunately only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades.

Music booming, red solo cups littering the lawn like flowers on a cool autumn day, the nine of you arrive to the home of the party — with no idea who anyone is, including the host. Typical for spring break — almost an alternate reality that plays by completely different rules.

Quickly, everyone ends up off in different directions, the majority off to talk to someone that strikes their fancy, leaving you and Jisung together as the only couple in the “house.”

“Guess it’s just you and me tonight, babe,” Jisung says with a smile, “let’s get drinks.”

Unfortunately, one of the positives of Jisung being such a social butterfly, also tended to ring negatively in scenarios such as this. The type of man to make friends with any and everyone in his immediate proximity, and with alcohol added to the mix, meant that you often found yourself on your own and making due with the time. This wasn’t necessarily a problem — as a woman being entirely capable of taking care of yourself — but it was a tad bit frustrating, heading out into the back yard through the sliding glass doors of the massive home to find a makeshift dance floor, and dozens of people sloppily dancing to house music on the destroyed lawn beneath their feet.

Having not yet had enough to drink, dancing would not be in the cards for you.

…Unless?

“Where’s Ji?”

A familiar voice, not always welcomed.

“Last I saw, he was upstairs with a group of people discussing whether or not the US government has been hiding the knowledge of having found intelligent life on other planets from it’s citizens.”

You watch Changbin pause before raising an eyebrow and giving a sort of assured nod, “yeah, that sounds right.”

“What’re ya drinkin’?” you ask, and you think it’s the alcohol that allows you to play it so cool. Maybe you weren’t even that hot for the man after all, finding yourself perfectly capable of being normal in his presence now.

“Gin, you?”

“Straight?” you ask, stricken with horror. Visibly taken aback.

“Yeah, I’m cultured.”

“You’re insane.”

“I can be both. Want to dance?”

The abruptness of the question takes you aback again, because the two of you were not talking about this so where did it come from? But Changbin just watches you — completely straight faced, waiting for a reply.

“Yeah, I guess.”

You realize shortly after agreeing to this — reaching the dance “floor” and feeling Changbin’s strong hands on your hips, that this was a mistake — and all of that stuff that you thought not all that long ago about being totally fine about this man, were in fact, alcohol-induced psychosis, because you were not fine, and not even a little bit.

Changbin turns you around to face away from him, ass pressed up against his groin, and you know that realistically you can’t feel his dick, but you can feel the natural hardness of the bulge from wearing tight jeans, and you swear it makes you dizzy. Fingers digging into the natural divots of where your hip bones are and strong, tight chest pressed up against your back, you can feel the heat of his breath against the back of your ear — your neck, and your skin burns from the contact — from the closeness.

From how much you shouldn’t be indulging in this right now, because your wonderful, loving boyfriend is just inside.

And he feels you tense beneath his grip, leaning down closer to your ear, “are you alright?”

You consider it confirmation that you should pull away from the man, so you do. You apologize, citing how he did nothing wrong and you just need some fresh air from the crowd and quickly make way from it, nearly running off and to the side of the house — dark, much fewer people — only a handful there to partake in other such party substances not allowed inside of the home: hosts request.

Back up against the wall, and finally a moment to breathe, you gasp for the air that you feel you had been starving yourself of the entire time you were in Changbin’s grip, but it’s only moments later that you find the same familiar visage having followed you, slowly popping from around the corner to find you, but stopping quite distant from your own stature.

“Look,” he says, hands in the air as if surrendering to whatever fate you have in store for him and his misdeeds, “did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—”

“No,” you cut him off, swallowing hard, “but we…we shouldn’t do that.”

“What? Dance?” he asks, surprise lacing his tone as he slowly steps closer to you again. “Is Ji that jealous?”

You don’t know the answer to that question, you don’t really want to have to find out.

“No, that’s not it,” and you pause, because you hadn’t thought the answer to this question through beyond this point, and are now left searching for it in the moment. Not ideal.

“We just shouldn’t.”

Watching Changbin watch you in silent response, you think that you can literally see him come to the obvious conclusion. Finally. Much to your disappointment. You had wanted to get away with this for a little bit longer; only exchanging hurried glances towards the man, his body, his build. Wasn’t thinking about him during sex with your boyfriend punishment enough, and for everyone involved?

And yet, he chooses not to say anything. Breathing heavily through his nose and dropping his head down with a smirk before raising it again only slightly to look up at you in the dark through his eyelashes — you can’t help but think of how unbelievably sexy he looks right now, in this moment. About how none of the other people here know who either of you are — or Jisung — how easy it would be to get away with something, anything. Just to scratch the itch. Just to get it over with. It could be enough, maybe, to never have to deal with this ever again. Would that be so bad? So wrong? To put this to bed…and not even literally.

You hate the way that you want it so badly — him to come to you, press you into the wall and lips into yours. To feel his strong hands on your body again, maybe even a little more. You know, just to get it out of your system, of course.

But Changbin remains firm in his stance, playfully pointing at you and grinning.

“Be good,” he tells you, before turning back from where he came, and leaving you in the darkened shroud of the side of the house, breathless and embarrassingly wet.

A couple of nights later, when the nine of you go to dinner again, it’s not intentional — you ending up sitting across from him, with Jisung to your right, but here you are, regardless.

It’s evident from a lack of change in the overall atmosphere, that Changbin had mentioned nothing to your boyfriend about that night at the party — of which you are thankful, not quite sure how to explain that one away, but your personal, and quite specific atmosphere with him, seems irrevocably different. Slouched in his chair carelessly with arms crossed, it makes him look massive for a man that all-in-all, is not that large in stature — but still, the positioning of his arms over his chest certainly makes aware all of the muscle and veins in his forearms. For your viewing pleasure, but likely not purposefully. 'Be good,' you remember. It echoes in your mind ever since that night. Be good. Be good. Behave.

But it’s the knowing glances that the two of you share over the table, eye contact that lingers a bit longer than it should — than it does with any of Jisung’s other friends — something shared only between the two of you. A secret. A longing, albeit, maybe only one-sided. Changbin knows that you want him, that you desire him. The word “crave” comes to mind, and you’re guilty just at that, with your boyfriend sitting just beside you, a loving hand on your leg — completely unaware of all of the ways that you wish it were Changbin’s hand — splicing together memories from the other night in your thoughts in an attempt to experience what it would feel like if it were him instead.

You tell yourself it’s normal, to desire others. It is. But you worry that everyone has a breaking point, eventually.

“Since you’re part of the group now—”

The words shake you from your fantasies, realizing that you’re being addressed, and your attention turns to the man speaking — Chan — reaching towards you in an effort to get your phone from you, and you recognize the gesture immediately despite having only just been lost in your own mind.

“Might as well add you to the group chat, so you know what’s going on at any given time, yeah?” he finishes, typing into the front of your phone as you watch him. You don’t respond, not much time to before he’s already handing your device back to you and you look at it; indeed, it’s a group chat, and everyone is there.

By phone number.

You want to be better, stronger than this, you think to yourself as you leave the restaurant, heading to your own home this evening with work in the morning. Jisung kisses you goodnight and thanks you for coming out and tells you how happy he is that you get on so well with his friends. How it means so much to him that all of the most important people in his life are good together.

You feel bad, but not bad enough.

Sitting in the drivers seat of your car and watching Jisung head back inside, you pull your phone out and go through the contacts of the group chat, locating Changbin’s number right away. It feels bad, it truly does. You keep reiterating this in your mind — and begin to wonder if you’re trying to convince yourself of the fact, rather than truly experiencing the guilt you once did.

Taking a breath, you open an empty message box with Changbin’s number — it only takes you a moment to think of something to say. Something to lie. It’s pathetic how desperate you are for interaction, for attention from this man, this man who is not your partner.

>hey, I think I left my bag in the restaurant, can you check for me?

Only a few short moments pass before the screen illuminates with the speech bubble to indicate one typing up a reply. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you take the time to contemplate the blurred lines of what constitutes an affair, and how surely they were blurred.

>you didn’t, and you know that, didn’t I tell you to behave?

Humiliating is the only word that comes to mind upon being so easily seen through by this man, this man that you barely know, have barely interacted with.

You find it intriguing, however, that not once has he threatened to tell Jisung. Perhaps there’s nothing to tell, after all. It’s always so easy to convince oneself that there is a perfectly reasonable explanation behind every sinful, wrongdoing.

You don’t respond. figure, that’s enough disgrace for one evening.

Coming down from your own, self-induced orgasmic high, Jisung rolls off of you and to the side, chest heaving and grinning as he looks over at you. You pretend to be as worn out as he seemingly is. You wish you were. He kisses you, lovingly, able to taste all of the adoration he has for you on his tongue and you know it’s times like that and in spite of everything else, this is the man that you love. This is the man that you admire.

But you do not desire him. Is everything else enough? Is lust that heavy and all-consuming?

"I’m gonna run for a drink, do you want anything, babe?” you say, rolling off of the bed and pulling your socks back on. You watch Jisung shake his head slowly, post-orgasmic smile still gracing his features. You loved the way he was so absolutely enthralled by you. You wished you felt the same, but maybe this is enough.

2:37am reading on the clock in the hallway, you tiptoe out of the room and down the stairs towards the kitchen with the only lights on being from the stove top, as to not leave the unfamiliar home completely pitch black in the depths of night. Pulling your over sized hoodie down and a bit over your panty-clad behind despite being in the company of no one and look around for a clean glass among the numerous filthy ones strewn about the counter tops.

"Looking for this?”

the words startle you so much you just about scream, heart dropping into your stomach at the sound of another human being accompanying you, even worse, when you recognize them better than you had hoped.

Changbin stands up from his previous squatting position, handing you an empty cup that he had found rifling through the cupboards where the pots and pans were typically held, another in his other hand.

“No one does dishes,” he laughs, “you might wanna wash that before you use it, though, it was pretty far back there.’

"So it seems,” you respond, normally, turning towards the sink and running water through the item in your hand.

“There’s cold water in the fridge.”

“Tap is fine,” you answer, finally filling it and turning back towards the man, pressing the rim to your lips and taking a sip. You laughed to yourself in silence — about how much the current scene reminded you of the first in this house. The atmosphere, however, had certainly shifted since then.

You allow yourself a moment to gaze upon him during a few of the minutes he spends looking down and at his phone. White tank top hugging his torso paired with gray sweatpants that you found yourself eyeing a little bit too much, you’d have been lying if you said you weren’t curious. Obviously.

He looked unbelievable. Broad, strong, masculine.

“Have fun?”

It takes you a moment to follow the question — what he was inferring, and once you do, absolute horror takes you — visually, physically, mentally. Oh God, he heard? you think to yourself.

You wonder if that’s why he’s awake right now, but it’s the least pressing matter on your mind, surprisingly.

“Oh my God, you heard us?” you gasp into the plastic cup, it echoing your sounds in a somewhat humorous way, and Changbin chuckles under his breath.

He doesn’t answer for a few seconds, finishing up with his phone before dimming it and slipping it back into his pocket. Chewing on his bottom lip, he finally graces you with a response.

You sort of wish he hadn’t, though.

“I heard him, not you.”

It’s a somewhat innocuous statement on the surface level. Jisung isn’t a quiet lover by any means, that much is true, but it’s the implications beyond that, that really pain you — and also ring painfully true. Does he…know?

You swallow hard, the sexual tension building once again, and with how little clothing the both of you are currently wearing, now certainly needs not be the time for these kinds of games. You apologize to him hurriedly, insisting that you’ll be more mindful next time and keep it down and in rush turn towards the refrigerator next to you — half in an attempt to release the strain on the situation, and half because you really fucking need that cold water now. Bending over and reaching in, you seek peace inside the iciness of the container — taking a deep breath of relief inside of it before reaching for what you had intended to retrieve.

But the devil waste no time in doing evil deeds.

Pressing up against you from behind, Changbin reaches into the icy box as well — your entire body stiffening beneath him at the contact, and any relief that the cool air had granted you — be it long gone, now, replaced with fiery hot contact of very few layers of clothing between two people.

You had almost forgot what desire felt like, and it was engrossing.

Changbin feels heavy and hard against you, his body heat immediately engulfing you and setting fire to your skin — the feeling of him on top of you like this, his pelvis pressed firmly into your back side — you think for a moment that you’re absolutely not strong enough for this, that you cannot handle this torture. Your mind races at all of the ways that Changbin could have you right then and there, and you wish that he would. Imagery of being bent over the counter top with panties around your thighs; held down, in place, unable to move or escape or do anything except take him — the thoughts presenting a dull throb between your legs when surely — it’s only been seconds before Changbin is pulling back and away from you with the container of butter in his hand.

“Sorry, needed to grab this.”

The thing about guilt, is that it becomes easier and easier to manage the longer that one is forced to do so. You realize that this rings true as you tell your boyfriend that you don’t feel well, and that you’ll be in the bathroom — you’re hopeful that your completely adoring, attentive boyfriend let’s you be without checking up on you just this one time — as you quickly rub your fingertips into your panties, chasing a high that comes all too quickly for your liking, and given the circumstances. Biting back your moans as to not allow them space to echo while you come, you realize that the only person you hope to hear you, is Seo Changbin.

A pool party, how incredibly frat of them, you think.

But it’s charming, and all in good fun. People from all around the neighborhood come over bringing food and drinks and all sorts of different things for fun — some bring party hats — who knows why, others bring floaty pool toys as if they’re children, and one couple even bring a llama, no one entirely sure what for, but not willing to ask any questions about it, either.

Holding Jisung’s hand as he attempts to light one of the barbecues, you sort of chuckle at his inability to manage such a menial task — watching him huff and puff in discontent at all of the ways the charcoal won’t catch flame for him, he finally pulls his hand from yours to look around the vicinity for something in particular.

“Have you seen the thing for the lighter fluid?” he asks, already flustered and whipping his head about in an attempt to locate it. “It’s like a…uhhh…like a red canister…”

“It should be in the side house,” Minho pipes up from the pool, “that’s where all that shit is kept.”

“I’ll get it, babe,” you assure, kissing him on the mouth before running off towards the direction dictated to you.

Reaching the old, worn down shack, the door inside rests ajar, but you scurry inside all the same.

And it’s becoming comical all of the ways in which you find yourself in this situation.

Changbin looks up and behind him from his squatting position, emptying ice into coolers and placing beer bottles inside of them.

“What’s up?” he asks, and you explain the charcoal debacle.

You’re reminded of his body pressed up against your own again. You think of what the two of you could get away with right here, right now, party guests being none the wiser.

And it must have been obvious, when he stands up, wiping his hands on a nearby towel before turning towards you.

“What’s going on with you and Ji?”

The question just about knocks you on your ass.

“Wh-what—”

“Come on, this isn’t…” and he pauses, thinking through his words perhaps a bit more delicately. “This isn’t…right, so what’s…”

It feels bizarre, the sudden coming to head of the situation at hand. Changbin acknowledging in words that there is, in fact, a this, and that whatever this was, was wrong. Not okay. Well upon it’s way to being extremely fucked up and morally reprehensible — on both of your parts. You’re Jisung’s girlfriend, but Changbin is his friend. There’s no innocent party, there.

Suppose, for the first time in a long time, honesty may be the best policy.

“I love Jiji, I really do—”

“But…”

“But…he doesn’t—” and now you pause, also thinking of how to delicately word this. You don’t want to humiliate your boyfriend, it sounds so pathetic when you try to say the words to someone else. To someone else you want to do all of the things for you that your own man can’t, at that. More salt in the wound.

“He doesn’t get you off?”

You don’t say anything, just a disheartened shrug of the shoulders, and Changbin’s expression Changes from concern to confusion. “He’s selfish? I never would have expected—”

But you cut him off, “No, no! He’s not, it’s not that, it’s just—”

And then his face switches back. Back to concern. “Oh — oh, he can’t.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you stand in silence for what feels like forever, and you laugh internally, thinking about how it’s the first time you’ve been in the presence of this man and not been thinking about all of the ways you want him to fuck you. The irony being, of course, that the conversation topic be about sex.

“I mean, that’s tough,” he starts again, visibly uncomfortable and likely unsure how to help. You think that Changbin might have realized just a bit too late that he was out of his depth with this one. “Sexual compatibility is a big deal in a relationship, y'know?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think I should tell you to break up with my best friend,” he says, trying to lighten the mood, “but I don’t know…has it gotten better at least? Over time?”

And you’re reminded of that time that Jisung almost made you come — the time you were thinking about Changbin, instead.

“A bit.”

Upon an awkward lull in the conversation, the two of you exit the side house with the items that you had both entered for. Hyunjin walks by at just the same time and makes a passing comment about what were you two doing in there in a joking manner, to which you playfully slap his arm and tell him to shut up. Changbin acknowledges it little, only looking down to you with what you can only deem as sympathy.

But you don’t want to be pitied, you want to be fucked.

After the party and upon returning home, you dig your phone out from your bag to find a notification — a text from Changbin, much to your surprise.

>I won’t rescue you

You know what that means. You also know that dick can’t save you. It doesn’t stop you from wanting it, anyways.

Two hours into your attempted home improvement escapades, with a puddle on the ground in your bathroom and what you can only suspect is something or another missing from this tubing, you decide to call it quits and ask The Men if they can make themselves useful to you.

>do any of you know anything about plumbing or can you only do beer bongs?

Hyunjin: come on that shit was cool

Jeongin: idk if we told you but he puked for like two hours after that btw, it ruled so hard

Hyunjin: dude shut up

Chan: @Changbin knows some shit about plumbing, he’s fixed some stuff for me before

Changbin: yeah whats up, gimmie your address i’ll take a look at it in like, an hour

You send your address and dim your phone, only to receive another notification immediately after, but it’s another text from Changbin — this time, privately.

>this better not be a ploy to get me alone in your apartment, I told you to behave.

And it wasn’t, but now you can’t help but acknowledge the fact.

When Changbin inspects the scene, he apologizes for assuming the worst of you, making a joke that he actually wishes you were just trying to fuck him, because the drainage situation is a disaster. The two of you laugh, but in only about twenty minutes of work, the man has everything under control, your drainage fixed, and even wiped up the floor for you. A true gentleman.

The problem lie in all of the very specific ways that Changbin’s muscles flex beneath his shirt as he work — turning nobs and forcing things back into place — undoing all of the nonsense you had inflicted, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t sexy. It was incredibly sexy, almost painfully sexy watching him work. You try to ignore it. You have to ignore it.

Changbin stands, behind against the counter and arms crossed as he looks at you, just having finished his handyman work. You think of all of the ways that you could be better, should be better.

All of the ways that you’re not.

It’s accidentally forceful, the way you slam yourself into him and press your mouth against his own — months of pent up, sexual frustration finally snapping and it’s all that you can manage to not immediately reach for his belt and start unbuckling it. You settle for hands against his chest to feel the muscle beneath, the muscle you have been dying to feel this entire time, and it’s every bit enthralling as you knew it would be. Part of you wishes that Changbin had been stronger, strong enough to pull you off of him, to stop you, to not kiss back.

But he’s not.

There’s reluctance at first, you can feel it in the tenseness of his mouth as you kiss at him, before you melt it away and he begins meeting you halfway with equally sloppy, needy presses of his mouth into your own, and you’re surprised that he’s the one that quickly reaches for your pants — unbuttoning, zipping, and roughly pulling them down mid thigh — not even bothering to take your panties with them. Taking you by the arms, Changbin spins you so that the two of you switch places, just as hastily dipping his hand into the already wet fabric and finally getting to feel the effect he’s had on you in such a short amount of time.

It’s embarrassing how wrecked for him you already look, with him only now pressing two fingers inside of you, and you think that nothing has ever felt more heavenly.

Reaching his free hand up and around the back of your neck, he pulls the two of you closer as he settles into a fast pace with his fingers; the drag against your walls already allowing you to build a familiar burning in your abdomen, the muscles of your thighs tightening with the promise of finally getting what you’ve been wanting. He continues kissing you, hard, before dipping down and pressing lips against your neck — slowly dragging up against your ear, the hot breath of his arousal echoing into you. You know he wants it bad, you wonder if it’s just as bad as you do.

There’s something about telling a man that another man can’t make you come. Something primal. Ego.

"I wanna hear you so bad,” he finally groans, the first words spoken since the encounter started despite it only being less than a minute in. You cry out in response, it’s the promise of release that he’s bestowing on you, and that in and of itself is almost enough to tip you over the edge.

“But we can’t do this.”

The words take longer to register than the immediate feeling of emptiness in your core does. Changbin stops, pulling his hand from you and takes a number of steps back from you altogether, leaving you reeling, fucked out, and with a ruined orgasm on top of it all. Figure, you didn’t need to step out of your relationship for this.

That thought makes you feel bad.

Through messy hair you watch the man before you. The way his chest heaves, the way he closes his eyes in an attempt to gather himself. Gather his sanity. Gather his ability to make good choices.

You look down at the tenting in his pants, and you’re so sure you’ve never wanted dick this badly in your life.

If the topic before, prior to now, was ‘what constitutes the blurry lines of an affair?’ you were sure it was crossed now. It doesn't feel as good as you thought it would, but that might be because you didn’t finish.

“I’m gonna wash my hands, and then I’m gonna go,” he says, and it’s non-accusatory, with no particular tone to it at all. As if he is genuinely just informing one of his plans.

Once Changbin leaves, sitting on your couch and scrolling on your phone, you contemplate all of the ways in which you’re terrible, and once you stop scrolling long enough to make a decision, you realize there’s comfort in simply knowing, accepting.

Turning speaker phone on, the line rings a couple of times before there’s a sing-song answer on the other end. He’s always so happy, he really thinks he’s the luckiest guy in the world.

“Hey babe, can you come over?”

You’re a little bit thankful that the next few days are just working and being home, granting you much needed time to recuperate, but with the end of spring break now right around the corner, you knew you had one more house party to attend — held by your very own boys, naturally, it would be necessary that you attend.

And you haven’t seen Changbin since he was at your apartment, but with Jisung not mentioning a single awkward word about it, you can only assume that not a word was spoken in any direction on the matter.

Not one for dressing up, jeans and a t-shirt suit you just fine for this gathering, and it’s only natural that Hyunjin make some snide comment about it upon your entering — playfully, of course, the two of you had become much closer over the two weeks time, but he certainly always had something to say…a blessing and a curse, but mostly a curse.

When 3am rolls around and dozens of party attendees find themselves littered across the living room, dining room, and even kitchen floors — much to your disdain, as someone having planned to stay the night at that home.

Even Jisung — party extraordinaire, passed out early — in his own bed, of course, because he falls asleep to watching Parks & Recreation after three beers.

Slipping down the stairs and finding the scene before you, attempting to reach the kitchen for food or a drink is akin to braving a minefield; bodies thrown about every which way, and it’s only catching movement out of the corner of your eye that pulls your attention away and to the man you had hoped to get through this evening not seeing. You watch as he quietly dips down into a hallway that you’re unfamiliar with, and you question what he’s got hiding down there.

You know it’s a bad idea, maybe he’ll just tell you to fuck off, that would be the best outcome.

“Hey!” you whisper-yell down the hall towards him as he disappears into the doorway, but he hears you, popping his head back out to find out where the sound had come from, and immediately catching eyes with you. You motion a sort of “what are you doing” in sign language that doesn’t exist, and he motions for you to come with him.

So many mistakes begin with good intentions. It’s not about being stronger than your desires, it’s about never being in a position in which you have to be.

Hopping among strung out bodies, you finally make your way to the door that leads to what you now understand to be the basement. Changbin heads down first, turning an old lightbulb hanging from the ceiling along the way to illuminate the path, and the wooden stairs creak with every step taken on them.

“I had no idea this was even down here,” you say in amazement, finally able to gaze around the space once you reach approximately the third to bottom step.

“Yeah, it’s basically a whole other home down here,” he explains, pointing in directions as he does. “Kitchen there, bedroom over there, and a bathroom to your left.”

Changbin pulls ahead as you stop to take the sights in. Despite the stairs showing their age, the rest of the interior appears well taken care of — glossed and polished wood adoring the kitchenette, bar, and majority of the tables in the living space — along with comfortable looking plush couches and an enormous flat screen television on the other end of the room.

“Drink?”

You think it’s amusing the way Changbin likes to pretend nothing has ever happened, no matter the circumstances.

“Sure.”

Standing next to the man, you watch the way his hands work in twisting and shaking items to makeshift bar tend in the moment; how his forearms flex, veins protruding, and you feel bad at the way that you still want him so bad, even after everything. Even after last time. After him walking out on you due to guilt, shame. You still wanted it.

He slows in his movements, looking at you as you watch him, and when you raise your gaze up to meet his eyes — you find something different within them.

Suppose, that’s what broken resolve looks like.

In a flash, Changbin slams everything in his hands down, taking you by the arms again just like he had before, only turning you this time, and pushing you towards the other side of the kitchenette — shorter counter, shorter sink — but he bends you over it all the same.

It happens so fast that your head spins, him having you at his mercy like this — that you barely even have a moment to register his hands on your pants again, ripping your jeans down your legs again, and shoving his hand inside your panties — all just as he had the time previous. Pressing his middle finger flat between your folds but with no intent to penetrate you, he growls at the overwhelming wetness you’ve been harboring for him this whole time, though not much time at all, maybe ten or fifteen minutes between meeting on the staircase and now, and still…soaking for him. Maybe a better man could resist the temptation, but it’s not him.

"God,” he groans into your shoulder, using his body weight to hold you down and in place. “You want it that bad, huh? I get you this wet?”

You don’t answer, still reeling from the motions, feeling his finger against you, and now weak at the way that he’s talking to you — it’s devastating when you feel the loss of his hand from you again, and you think, “not a second time,” unsure if you can even survive being left in such a state again.

But your mind is put to ease, at the sound of his belt buckle clattering throughout the basement, alongside the gentle swoop of the fabric of your undergarment being pulled down your legs.

You feel him adjusting from behind you, going through all of the motions necessary to eventually fuck you, and you’re absolutely beside yourself at the thought of finally having it. Excitement, anticipation, all bubbling in your abdomen — alongside the pulsing ache between your legs of wanting him, you can hear him tear open the package of a condom, and it’s jarring in a particular sense. Not the existence of it, but what the condom entails.

“Did you bring that…for this?” you ask, shaky in voice from desire and also uncertainty of the reply following.

Changbin forgoes answering right away to instead focus on rolling the rubber along himself, carefully beginning to line himself up with you from behind with the tip of his cock gently prodding at your entrance before speaking. “Unfortunately.”

A man worn down. Disappointed, but a slave to desire all the same.

With the answer, his initial push begins. Slow, gentle — you realize in the moment that you’ve never seen his cock, and thus have no idea what you’re “working with” so to speak, but as he pushes deeper, with more force, the stretch of his girth becomes so quickly overwhelming, tears threatening the corners of your eyes, your fingers desperately dig into the metal of the sink in front of you — begging for any kind of purchase at all, before Changbin stills inside of you, buried completely, and presses his mouth against your shoulder. “God you’re—” he begins, needing a moment to collect himself a bit more before finishing his sentence. “Small.”

You don’t know if that’s the case, or the inverse, but either way, you’re sure you’ve never been this full — the way you can feel every pulse and throb of his cock against your walls, you relish in the thought of what it’ll feel like when he comes — you almost wish he hadn’t brought a condom. A heinous thought born of desire, the most wicked trait.

“Are you sure?” he asks, and it’s a little late by now you think, but you nod all the same; desperate, whiny requests for him to move following immediately after, and he’s more than happy to oblige.

Withdrawing almost fully, Changbin pushes back in again, slowly, feeling the drag of his cock against your insides and reveling in the warm wetness. Taking into account how easy the glide is before gaining speed, or force — but it’s easy, the way you’re soaking for him and have been for weeks — almost humiliatingly so, that it’s so easy to take him with how big he is and how there was no foreplay. Your body telling on you with how happy your cunt was to accommodate him, you wish in the moment that you could have feigned at least a tiny bit of disinterest.

Pulling his body off of yours, Changbin settles one hand down onto your waist, the other pressing upward and taking purchase into your shoulder for more leverage to pull you down, on, and against him — it’s then that you finally feel the full force of his drive into you, the first sound of skin against skin that you had been craving for so long, and already — between the painful crave of him leading up to now, the thick drag of his cock, how he pulls at all of your walls and nerves with every drive and withdraw. It’s so fast that you can feel the promise of orgasm bubble up within you, something the man had yet to grant you, and you could only pray that he would be so generous tonight.

“Can I fuck you harder?”

The question sounds stupid to you, but you don’t have it in you to discuss it, only answering in babbling “please's” that sound on the brink of tears and just the sound of it is enough to make his length throb inside of you with want — the scene of a woman so fucked out for his cock that she can barely even speak anymore.

So, Changbin makes the executive decision to stop asking you to. “Jesus, okay,” is all he answers at the sights and sounds before him, driving into you once hard and fast and eliciting the most obscene cry out from you.

Settling into a brutal pace, it’s not long before you feel the promising loom of orgasm approaching — your knees threatening to buckle beneath you — you reach one hand forward in an attempt to hold onto something proper, but Changbin only digs his hands into you harder. “I’ve got you,” he grunts, following with a “fuck,” as he feels the walls of your pussy clamp down around him. Your whimpers get shorter, louder, in almost an instant, and he has no choice but to fuck you through it without so much as a plan of how to help you get there — frankly, because he didn’t think it would be this fast, this easy.

“Already? Fuck, so tight,” he groans, still maintaining his drive against you, and it’s then that he says the words that you’re not sure would ever be spoken of ever again. Words so obscene, so reprehensible, that you didn’t even know Changbin had it in him. The man of relatively good, upstanding, morality. Better than you. Better than this.

“Can’t even tell Jisung’s ever touched you, fuck.”

You wish it weren’t the thing that sends you barreling over the edge, too. The absolute repulsion of it. So incredibly fucked up and unkind to a man that has done nothing deserving of it. Of this.

But nonetheless, you come, and painfully hard, at that. Muscles tightening against one another with such force that it feels stifling, like you can’t breathe. A breathless, almost silent orgasm ripping through your body as the object of your desire fucks you through it, hard and fast — little effort on his part, really.

“Miss it, baby?” Changbin whispers towards you, and you wonder what’s gotten into him now, not that you’re complaining, but the once docile, reluctant man has slowly fallen away for this aggressive, dominant man — a man taking great pleasure in claiming your body for his own cock, instead of your boyfriends. His friends. “Miss coming around a fat cock?”

You whimper out in affirmation, largely due to the fact that the way he’s talking and the relentless stretch of him is getting you close all over again, and at record speed.

Hearing the way your voice breaks, you hear him chuckle from behind you between hard thrusts, “close again?” and you nod. “How can I get you there?”

But you can barely speak, only the sound of “r-rub-” managing through your lips but thankfully it’s enough to get the message across — pulling his hand down from your waist and snaking it down your front and between your thighs — rubbing sloppy circles in the vague area in which your clit should be; not being familiar enough with your anatomy yet to be able to hone in on right where he need to press, but the effort is enough that your second is quickly approaching, and threatening to tear his first from him as well, his panting and groaning weighing heavier and heavier on your ears with each passing second.

“Close?” and you know he’s asking you because he is, but he wants to get you there first. You nod quickly, biting into your lip, begging for a second release to take you and that he can pull it from you.

And oh, can he.

“God, I want to come into this little cunt,” he growls, still fucking into you hard and fast, the sounds of impact radiating through the basement without a care in the world who could possibly here them. “It’s mine now, anyways, isn’t it?”

The question makes your head spin. Genuinely light-headed at the implications.

“Isn’t it mine? Shouldn’t I be able to come in what’s mine? Whose is it?”

Only a loud whimper escapes you, your orgasm now quickly threatening to rip through you, and you don’t want to say it. You don’t want to answer the question. You don’t want to…

State the obvious.

Changbin repeats the last question again, and with you teetering on the edge of orgasm, your resolve comes crumbling down.

“It’s yours, it’s yours, it’s yours!”

You repeat the chant a handful of more times as you come undone around his dick all over again, and it’s all that he needs to pull the same from him — walls clenching hard around him and stripping him of his release in a loud, throaty, groan. Changbin fucks you through the both of your highs, slowing with each thrust and pulling from you before he gets too soft — tying off and disposing of the condom in quick, record time.

You wonder if it’s because it signals all of his worst choices, in succession.

With so many packed suitcases and other such bags near the door, you find it nearly impossible to locate your shoes, but you’re happy about one thing, and that is the fact that you simply just get to slip your shoes on, and drive home to your comfortable apartment, without having to worry about doing any packing or unpacking.

The guys all crowd around the door to say goodbye, thank you for coming last night and spending so much time around — how much of an absolute pleasure it was to have you around so often. How much they love you.

How much Jisung loves you.

It causes a twinge in your stomach, hearing the words. Jisung pops up from the left side of you and curls his fingers in between your own just before kissing you on the side of your head and thanking you for spending so much time around these “losers” as well.

You can’t help but lay eyes on Changbin; leaned up against the wall, arms crossed, with the rest of the guys — quiet, but not any different than that of typical Seo Changbin. So cool, calm, collected — like nothing ever happened.

Like nothing was ever said.

Pulling you from your thoughts, you hear Chan make some off-hand comment about a girl that Minho had allegedly slept with during the week, and although denying it, Chan simply won’t hear it.

“Dude whatever, I know what I saw,” Chan says, stuffing a pair of basketball shorts in a bag of his, “Changbin was there, he saw it too.”

And Hyunjin laughs from the kitchen, still attempting to pack up left over drinks from the weekend. “Changbin won’t say shit though, that man is like a vault,” he starts, pausing only due to the fact that he just about drops a half full bottle of tequila on the tile floor. “That man is where secrets go to die, never to be heard from again.”

Your eyes pull towards the person in question again, slowly turning back towards you from his gaze at Hyunjin behind him — a smirk on his face, and just the ever so delicate presence of him chewing at the bottom of his lip to make eye contact with you before speaking.

“You have no idea.”

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

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fanfic-obsessed · 6 months

Text

Force Osik? ...Force Osik

Let’s take a walk with some Force Shit. Obi Wan would like it known that we may have wandered from Force Shit into Force Bullshit, and would like a refund on this entire time period.

…Frankly that’s fair.

We are at some random point mid war, the Force, for reasons that are inscrutable to the mortals around, decides to bring someone back from the dead. Right to the bridge of the Negotiator, while they are somewhere in the outer rim. This is a fairly standard trope at this point, usually binging back Qui Gon Jinn. But here we take a left instead of the third right. The person brought back is Xanatos, pre fall (his exact age will be discussed below).

Now for those of you who do not know, Xanatos is from the Apprentice series. He was Qui Gon’s second Padawan who fell before Xanatos could be knighted. The fall caused some significant trauma for Qui Gon, leading to his initial rejection of Obi Wan. Xanatos was also the first person to enslave Obi Wan, and is the source of about a solid third Obi Wan’s trauma before the age of 15ish (when Xanatos committed suicide). What’s more this pre fall Xanatos either knows, or is told, that Obi Wan was also a Padawan of Qui Gon; this version of Xanatos is absolutely ecstatic that Obi Wan is his ‘little brother’ and wants to be where Obi Wan is at all times.

NOTE: I think it would be both funnier and 100% more baffling for Obi Wan if Xanatos had already known that Obi Wan would someday be Qui Gon’s next Padawan. Like a young Padawan Xanatos saw little Obi Wan (There is a 9 year age difference between them) in the creche and had said that the toddler Obi wan would be his little brother one day. It would also play really well into the surety the fallen Xanatos had that Obi Wan as Qui Gon’s padawan on Bandomeer, even when he wasn’t.

This is where we should discuss Xantos’s age, for I am of two minds. Truly the options only change the flavor of Obi Wan’s trauma.

-Option 1: Xanatos is from just before the mission where he Fell, so he would be a young adult. He looks almost exactly like the Xanatos from Obi Wan’s memories, sans the eyes and height (given that in Obi Wan’s memories Xanatos towered over him). So Obi Wan is constantly being haunted by the trauma caused by the Fallen Xanatos and trying not to lay that trauma at the feet of his virtual twin, who is blameless. Also Obi Wan has no true idea of what caused Xanatos to fall, or when it happened save that Xanatos looked very similar to the non fallen version that stands before him. So Obi Wan is constantly beset by the anxiety that comes from the back and forth of ‘If I reject him, will he fall?’ and ‘If I am too permissive for his behavior will he fall?’ and ‘what if he falls while I am not there and hurts someone’. Also deeply traumatic flashbacks to the Fallen Xanatos calling him ‘Little Brother’

-Option 2: Xanatos is an early teen (13 or 14 years old), younger than Ahsoka. He still adores Obi Wan and does not set off the visual issues that the older version does. However, his force presence is still similar enough to the fallen Xanatos that it sets off Obi Wan’s trauma, and we multiply it by the guilt of Obi Wan spending much of his time trying not to freak out and punch a 13 year old in the face.

With either option we have an Obi Wan that spends the entire trip back to Coruscant trying not to make his trauma everyone else's problem. Also he had thought that he had dealt with this trauma over a decade before. He cannot bring himself to tell anyone who Xantos was to him. When asked by Anakin (with Xanatos right there) why Anakin did not know about Xanatos, Obi Wan is barely able to choke out a ‘he died’. The entirety of the 212th can tell Obi Wan is desperately uncomfortable around Xanatos and trying to hide it. They are also torn because Xanatos clearly adores Obi Wan, so they might get a Padawan Commander (and if we go with option 2, is 13 an adorable) but on the other hand Obi Wan’s reaction is concerning them.

Anakin vacillates between pouting that Obi Wan is ‘keeping secrets’ (read has any part of his that Anakin does not have exclusive knowledge of and rights to) and hovering protectively around Obi Wan (read Anakin’s Master) hissing at Xanatos like a feral cat.

Cody spends more than a few nights assigning a small group of clones to distract Xanatos and Anakin. Then he holds Obi Wan, so the general feels safe enough to sleep. Even if that sleep is interrupted by nightmares that give Cody more of a glimpse than anyone else into Obi Wan’s issue with Xanatos.

When the council received the report of what had happened, a few of the members looked at each other. Not all of the members knew what had happened with Xanatos (some had not been members of the council at the time, were too new to be fully read in, or were on their own missions) but the ones that did just looked at each other going ‘Fuck, Kenobi’s therapist is going to kill us all’.

On Coruscant Obi Wan’s Therapist, very decidedly non force sensitive (to help combat the burnout), woke from a dead sleep when Xanatos appeared and said to herself, ‘why do I feel like my hard work has been taken out to an alley and shot’

The Negotiator gets to Coruscant without a major incident or Obi Wan having a complete breakdown. Obi Wan is still the only one who knows why he is so twitchy with Xanatos (Anakin thinks he knows why Obi Wan is twitchy -guilt for keeping secrets- but is not in any way correct. Cody and other members of the 212th realize that his odd behavior is directly related to Xanatos but not the specifics). Obi Wan leads the Xanatos, along with various added people including Cody, anakin, Rex, Ahsoka, and three of the shinies that had been assigned to Xanatos down to the council chamber. As soon as Xanatos is in front of the council Obi Wan is like ‘I gotta…’ and the council, particularly those who are in the know about exactly what Obi Wan is going through, go ‘No, that’s fair. Go. Alexis (the therapist) is already waiting for you.’ (As soon as it was a reasonable hour right after Xanatos appeared, Plo Koon and MAce Windu had reached out to Alexis the Therapist-They had previously been given by Obi Wan to do so if needed- and explained hat they knew -Xanatos, of Tauma fame, had returned from before he went evil. To Obi Wan specifically. Alexis the Therapist just sighed.)

And Obi Wan just booked it out of the temple toward his therapist to deal with things he had thought he had already dealt with, but were brought back up by the return of one of his childhood nightmares. Which is pulling all of the other strings of trauma.

While Obi Wan is having the breakdown that has been scheduled for over a decade, the rest of the council is looking at Xanatos, trying to figure out what to do with him. The only people who knew the specifics of Xanatos original fall are all dead (being the original Xanatos and Qui Gon Jinn). Feemor is brought in to explain what they do know (Xanatos falling, Qui Gon’s repudiation of both of his padawans at the time, the official reports on Bandomeer- Feemor assumes that there is a minimum of 20% more trauma for Obi Wan then is stated in the report, as he is familiar with Qui Gon’s minimalist approach to report writing, and is not shy about sharing this opinion-, the bombing of the temple, the assassination attempt, the death of an initiate, and finally Xanatos’s own suicide) because Feemor is one of the last Jedi who Xanatos would know.

Xanatos is abjectly horrified by what has happened. Also more than a little freaked out Obi Wan was able to spend over a week, the travel time from where the Negotiator had been to Coruscant, in Xanatos’s near constant presence and not show any of this as more than a little discomfort. After he settles in he starts researching Stewjoni psychology to make sure that Obi Wan was not doing himself unnecessary harm (He was not, what happened was more akin to walking on a broken leg because there is no other way to get through, in that it did damage, but was a necessity for survival). Even though Xanatos, no matter the age, goes on the complete his training under a different lineage, is still absolutely insistent that Obi Wan is his little brother (even finding different word that mean the same thing when he realized that there is some issue connected to those words specifically).

Dooku hears that Xanatos has returned and reaches out, trying to get at least one of his lineage on his side. This incidentally is how they capture Dooku, who acts in haste and does not take the same level of precaution that he normally does in covering his tracks.

The Jedi in general accept that Xanatos is permanently back sometime around the two month mark. He goes on to Shadow training.

A consequence of Dooku being caught was that the war started being won by the Republic (In this Dooku was the only direct connection between the Separatists and Palpatine, so with Dooku captured early Palpatine was no longer able to run both sides and it as too early for him to start his empire). Palpatine found that his various contingencies continued to fall apart without any interference from our heroes.

One of the more severe of which was an unscheduled attack on Naboo’s Theed while he was there. The attack damaged Palpatine’s vocal chords, leaving him mute for two months and changing his voice permanently in a way that could not be correct (thus making him unable to enact Order 66, as everything was tied to a voice print match).

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #fanfiction prompt #obi wan kenobi #star wars au #anakin skywalker #codywan #sheev palpatine #bamf obi wan #xanatos du crion #the force #commander cody

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yourlittlettoy · 9 months

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Hi friends! Once again here using my Tumblr like a traditional blog where u share thoughts and updates and stuff haha.

Sorry for being gone for a bit, life was BUSY with plans and now I’m finally back home from a little trip visiting a lovely friend of mine (photos for visual-aid of said trip 😉😇). God I love summer and sunshine!! ☀️☺️🌊🚤🍉

So due to being less active, I did build up quite a bit of notification and message debt. Wanted to take a quick moment and say that unfortunately there is no shot I’ll be able to catch up on all of it in terms of responding to everything, even though I usually really like to stay on top of that; especially with tags and reblogs and comments on my posts! However, I did read and see everything that I’ve missed.

So to all of u that interacted while I was gone: the satisfaction from flustering some of you was absolutely enjoyed 😉~ and on the flip side the backfire from your teasy comments has also been suffered hahaha 🙈. Either way you already know I love seeing interactions from you guys and I’m just so THANKFUL TO HAVE HAD SO MANY TO CATCH UP ON 🥰 sorry again I can’t always be reciprocal, but please know that I adore all of you and am enjoying the heck out of being in your presences with or without direct line of conversation!

Anyway, if it wasn’t clear enough by now, I think the world of u community pals and I hope you all have a day as lovely and awesome as you! (Very lovely and awesome, to clarify haha)

Stay precious 😘💕

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masivechaos · 1 year

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WHAT DOES IT MEAN?

sirius black x fem! reader

Request: yes / no

Synopsis: Sirius likes to tease you by speaking french but maybe he’s more easily flustered than you are.

Warning/content: kissing and that's it i think, no proofreading and my bad English

a.n.: 1.1k words - it is very funny but cringe to write as a french person and it's not my best fic but here you go.

masterlist/ marauders masterlist / navigation / taglist

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

There were pros and cons to dating Sirius Black. A lot of pros actually, he was distracting, pointed stars at you at night, showered you with compliments every day and so on and so forth. And, at first, you thought that the fact that he knew how to speak french was a good thing.

It’s true, it sounded good and it made you fall in love with him again every time he spoke. But right now, you just wanted him to stop. Because one of the cons to dating Sirius Black was that he loved to tease you. He loved to see you look down, avoid any visual contact with him with wide eyes.

And one way to get you was to speak french to you over and over again with words you couldn’t understand. By the tone of his voice you knew they were compliments but it still made you feel weird.

“Stop,” you said but your laugh betrayed you.

“Why would I stop?” Sirius was maybe a dog in his animagus form but as a human he also knew how to master the puppy face “Tu es si belle.” He was hovering over you, his hand stroking your cheek.

You felt heat rushing to your face. “W-what does it mean?” you stuttered. Sirius let out a chuckle, finding you more than adorable like this.

He let his forehead rest against yours “You don’t need to know. Just trust me, okay?” you nodded, unsure if you could believe him or not. Sirius leaned in and pulled you into a small kiss “Do you like it when I speak french?” you nodded again, too shy to admit it out loud. “That’s great because I like it too.”

Your smile widened when he buried his head in the crook of his neck. For a few minutes, both of you didn’t talk before Sirius broke the silence again “You are so pretty”

“What?” you said confused.

“That’s what Tu es si belle means,” he said, changing his previous teasing smirk for a genuine smile that matched his now pink cheeks.

“O-oh” why so little was enough to make you flustered?

Sirius laughed “Why are you acting like I never said it before?” he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “If you need to hear it again, tu es belle. Je pense que tu es la personne la plus magnifique du monde”

You gave up on trying to understand what he meant and just enjoyed how the language tasted on his tongue, letting his words calm your ears. “Thank you,” you whispered, shutting your eyes, feeling sleep starting to get you.

“You don’t know what I said,” he laughed. Sirius moved both of you so you were the one on top, wrapping his arms around your waist as you settled on his chest, your head rising and falling with his breathing.

You hummed, “I know. But I bet it’s nice so thank you.” you smiled, drawing your hand to his hair, slowly brushing your fingers through it. Sirius let out a content sigh, he had to admit that talking to you in french was a way to spare his pride. Everybody knew he wasn’t the best to express his feelings so having a one-sided conversation weirdly made him feel safe. He could say everything he wanted, getting everything off his chest, making his heart lighter without having to face the consequences. It was selfish he knew it, but he couldn’t help it.

“Je t’aime tellement,” he said barely more audible than a whisper.

Suddenly you lifted your head, surprising Sirius in the process “You love me?” Sirius didn’t tell you the three words yet, and you couldn’t blame him, you weren’t together for a long time and he grew up not knowing what love and affection were. Accepting he was loved was already hard enough so accepting that he was feeling this way was more than difficult.

Blood won Sirius’ cheeks, turning them red “H-how do you know?”

“I know je t’aime means I love you. It’s a pretty common thing to know.” You watched his expression fall, almost as if he was disappointed. “Hey,” you held his face between your hands “I love you too okay? Je t’aime” you said in a hideous french accent that resulted in making him laugh.

“Don’t make fun of me!” you said with a laugh, happy to see him happy again “I was trying to be romantic!”

“You can be romantic in English, chérie”

“Pff while you, you are flexing your french.” you rolled your eyes playfully.

He laughed at your fake pout “C’mon, don’t sulk” he pressed his lips to your cheek “I just think it sounds pretty. Tu es l’amour de ma vie, I have to sound pretty to you”

“First, what does it mean? And second, even if you sounded like a dying horse I would love you so much.” You grinned when Sirius flushed a bit.

He hid his red cheeks, moving his face to the side against the blanket, his hand covering the other side of his face.

“Why are you hiding?” you whispered, the teasing tone of the conversation changing for a calmer one, ready to listen to each other’s feelings. “Sirius?” you turned his head to you.

“I-I don’t want to tell you what it means,” he stutters.

You offered him a reassuring smile “Okay, take your time, love”

He was so grateful to have you and he knew you deserved to know but he didn’t seem to be brave enough. He let himself a few minutes, gathering all his courage to tell you. He felt like it was too early in the relationship to tell you this but fuck it. He loves you so much.

“Um,” he swallowed hard, “I said… I said you’re the love of my life” Sirius wished he could dig a grave right now and just bury himself alive. Your silence was so scary to him.

“Y-you said I’m the love of your life?” you were beaming, not quite possibly believing what he just told you.

“I- er- yeah”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping him close to you as much as possible “You’re the love of my life too, Sirius”

And there, right on a picnic blanket next to the Black Lake, Sirius melt. His feelings for you burned him, making him weak in a way he couldn’t deny he loved. But he couldn’t help it, he wasn’t going to change in one day, too many confessions were revealed in an hour. He had to protect himself, and humour was his best weapon.

“But would you still love me if I were a worm?” he said, pulling on his best puppy face.

“Sirius!”

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

⋆ ★ sirius back taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @sw34terw34ther @cauliflowertree @madison-rebel @moonlitmeeks @loveeharrington @mad-elia @elenatries2write @juneberrie @f4iry-blush @gilmore-angel @heartfucks @sparklenarniawizard @moondemon123 @mystic-writings @siriusblackstwin @natashxromanovf @goodoldfashionedluvergirl @garfieldsladybird @starconfettii @kidcuisinesvcks @percy-the-hufflepuff @fairydxll @spookydarkwitch @duxpuella @innerloverpainter @nyxxxxxxxx @venussflytraps @diorgirl444 @oncasette @locke-writes

#sirius black #sirius #sirius o black #sirius black x reader #sirius black drabble #sirius black x you #sirius black x female reader #sirius black x y/n #remus lupin #james potter #hp marauders #the marauders era #marauders era #the marauders #young marauders #harry potter

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bitbugbites-re · 7 months

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𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜 | 𝖑𝖊𝖔𝖓 𝖐𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖉𝖞 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

3 shots was all it took for you to get tipsy enough to drag Leon, your coworker, from a run-down bar to a bustling club. 3 shots, that was all it took, to kick-start the night that had you on top of the man you trusted your life with.

a03 link

word count: ~3.5k

gender: fem! reader

cw: NSFW, (some) FLUFF // collaring, sweat, embracing, ref. to re4r as a mission, car sex, drinking, semi-public sex, unprotected sex // ktober

a/n: i keep going to write these fics/scenarios/etc. telling myself "ok 2k limit at the most!" and i fail miserably each time. someone needs to stop me i CANNOT be DOING all this

p.s. -- if you’re only interested in the smut, you can scroll down until you reach the thin black bar lololol

There was one penny on the floor – no, two pennies. There were two pennies on the floor of the bar; one all mucked-up and one completely spotless. The pennies, for some reason, were absolutely mesmerizing – so much so that you couldn’t even focus on your partner, the man who you’ve trusted with your life countless of times, confessing his love to you in between broken hiccups.

“Look – hic – at me, Y/N.”

You felt his hand rest on your shoulder as you giggled about how silly it was that they put people’s faces on money. Really, it wasn’t even that funny, but after about three shots, you could watch a stinkbug fly into a glass door and that’d be enough to make you fall out of your chair laughing.

When your work partner started to lightly shake you, waiting impatiently for you to give him your undivided attention, you finally turned to look at him.

“Whaaat?” you said with a huff, your brows furrowed. He only stared back at you, very intently, not responding despite his previous desperation to get you to be conscious of him.

You blinked a couple of times, tilting your head as you watched him. His blue eyes bore into your own set of trusty observers, and his eyebrows seemed even more creased than their usual already intimidating positioning. You couldn’t even begin to count the number of times that you’ve mistaken him for being mad at you because of his genetically, pre-disposed done-with-it-all expression. His deeply stoic voice doesn’t help you pick up on his cues, either – and periodically, you find yourself wondering if he’s had this menacing affliction since he was a kid. It always makes you laugh a little when picturing him as a grumpy-looking child, and you prefer this imagery much more than visualizing him as a cheery adolescent. Not because you don’t want him to have had a happy childhood, of course – but because you just can’t see a guy like him having been anything but miserable his entire life.

Either way, it doesn’t matter, because even if you did have the answer, it’s not like you could’ve changed anything. As unfortunate as it is, he was, and likely will remain as a stone-cold, rock-hard guy for the rest of his life.

“I love you.”

Or not.

You narrowed your eyes at him, squinting. For some reason, you thought this was the logical response when feeling unsure if you had heard him correctly.

Thinking it over for a second, you picked up your previous, now empty shot glass and tapped it against the sleek, wooden counter of the bar. “Ohhhh!” you said, practically yelling, “I love working with you too!”

Now, love was a bit of an exaggeration. You didn’t hate working with Leon, your partner, but you didn’t necessarily adore it either. Work was work. Whether you responded in this way because you were drunk, or because you didn’t want to hurt his feelings – you definitely did not reply the way you did because you truly felt what you stated.

Leon sighed and slumped over a little, with his hand still resting on your shoulder. He looked absolutely defeated. “That's not what I – hic – said.”

One of the bartenders then passed the two of you by, glancing over Leon’s bent posture before shaking his head in pity and clicking his tongue inwardly.

You pursed your lips, leaning your head over in a lackadaisical fashion as you very earnestly focused on what Leon might have meant. Despite his straightforward persona, there was no way in your mind that he said and meant what you had heard. And even if he did, he’s put you in a pretty sudden and awkward position – how was your tipsy ass supposed to respond to a confession in a proper manner?

Finally, Leon removed his arm from your shoulder, plopping it down rather roughly on the counter instead. He began to use his pointer finger as well as his thumb to rub the further ends of his eyebrows, sighing as he did so. Your only response to this display of troubledness was to squeak out a hiccup.

While he wallowed in his defeat, you distracted yourself by becoming more attentive to the music that was playing – and you quickly noticed that it fucking sucked.

Tonight was supposed to be a night where you and Leon were able to blow off steam, to let the harsh realities of the world go for a second. The two of you hadn’t really hung out much outside of work, but after the last particularly grim mission you just returned from a couple of days prior, you suggested the outing to him as a way to get your mind off of things – you figured he might have been going through the same turmoil as you, and even if he wasn’t, it was nice having someone around who understood the storm of shit you’d just gone through.

There had been way too many casualties than you were prepared for, not to mention, one of them being someone who you both started to warm up to as they helped you traverse an unfamiliar area, with unfamiliar people, and unfamiliar peculiarities – one being a fucking mind-altering virus, for christ's sake.

Needless to say, this night was supposed to be for the two of you. So what were you doing in a run-down, half-empty bar, with flickering light fixtures and employees that didn’t know how to queue up good music?

The answer to that question is: well, there’s an obvious answer, which is that you thought Leon would be more comfortable in a place like this – but the fun answer is – you don’t know!

Without hesitation, you hopped down off your bar stool, and from behind, you grabbed onto the top of Leon’s arms, shaking him. He just let you do it.

“Leon! Leon! Leeeooon~!” you chanted, now pressing your palms down in the firm middle-ground between his neck and shoulder blades. Your back-and-forth push and pull of his body became more aggressive as he failed to respond, and you were starting to become more aware of his build. Good god, why is this man so solid?

Finally, Leon straightened his back, turning around on his stool to look down at you. “What?” he asked, a tired look in his eyes.

“Let’s – hic – let’s go to the bar across the street!” you gleamed, grabbing his hand without delay.

Leon frowned at your suggestion, shaking his head. “That’s not a good idea–”

You quickly cut him off by yanking him down from his seat, not listening to his disapproval. He stumbled a little, almost falling on his face, but he was quickly able to save his dignity by grabbing onto the edge of the chair in order to hold himself up. Surprisingly, although he had advised against your plans to keep drinking at another establishment, he let you drag him along.

The two of you went into the cold night, walking a bit of a distance before standing outside of a large building adorned with flashing neon lights. There were a couple of groups of people leaning against the walls or on the curb, chatting and smoking away, while music distantly blared from the inside.

“Wait. This isn’t a bar –” Leon started, but you didn’t indulge in his uncertainty, continuing to tug him all the way to the scuffy, grandiose double-doors of what was actually a club.

When you finally walked in, you were met face-to-face with a tall, burly man behind a desk. He informed the two of you that you needed to pay a small entrance fee in order to continue, to which you clumsily fumbled to grab your wallet out of your purse. As soon as you had started to open where you kept your cash, Leon moved in front of you, handing the man his card. It was sweet of him to pay even though he wasn’t keen on coming here, you thought.

Upon entering the actual club itself, you noticed it was bigger than you thought. There were multiple areas to sit at, a huge bar, and an equally giant floor to dance on. Additionally, you also had observed that the club smelled heavily of weed and sweat – to which Leon was quick to discern and point out as well. He didn’t seem too pleased with the scent, and frowned harder with every thick-odered person you passed by.

The two of you eventually found an open table after a few minutes of exploring, to which you quickly sat down and chatted for a while before telling Leon that you were going to go get each of you another drink. Stopping you, he took hold of your arm, got up, and told you he’d get them for you instead.

It didn’t take long for him to return, and it didn’t take long for the two of you to down your drinks, either. Leon threw his own back, and within a couple of seconds of him having it, it was gone. It was almost impressive how he drank it with desperation – his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed it, which for some odd reason, didn’t go unnoticed by you.

The two of you fooled around for a while, both of you clearly more than a little tipsy as you joked about your superior and his mustache, that both of you thought looked absolutely awful on him. However, as soon as one of your favorite songs started to play over the very-loud speakers, you once again pulled Leon over to the dance floor to go along with another one of your whims.

“Dance with – hic – me, Leon!” you chirped, making him spin you in a circle before pulling his body into yours. He looked down at you with wide eyes, a little unsure what to do with himself. You huffed at his lack of initiative, and let go of him before turning your attention to the DJ, dancing along to the vibrant beats which shook the entire floor due to how loud they were.

It didn’t take long for you to become fully immersed, while as for Leon, he just stood there a little awkwardly, his gaze on both the crowd around him and on you, too.

However, you started to get a little too immersed. Drunk, and not in the clearest of mind – as you started to throw it back right next to your coworker – you continued to get carried away without a care in the world. This proved to be troublesome, when eventually you found yourself less than an inch away from Leon, just barely touching the front of him with your backside.

The situation got even worse when someone bumped into him from behind, his groin brushing up against you while his hands hopelessly seized hold of your hips as a response to his lack of balance.

You noticed instantly that he was hard, and you stopped dancing, turning around to look at him. You couldn’t see well in the dark and through the strobe lights, but you could tell he was embarrassed as his hands pulled away from you instantly.

“S-sorry,” he stammered, stepping back, his hands up defensively.

You looked him over, not sure how to feel about the previous collision of your bodies. Although, you did know one thing for sure – you thought it was kinda cute how he seemed so nervous about it.

Slowly, you started to approach him with a mischievous smile on your face, throwing your arms around his neck, pushing your chest against him.

“It’s okay~” you slurred, a lustful gaze in your eyes. You felt the tip of his bulge brush up against you again, and made sure not to push into him too much down there. “How’re you ‘gonna make it up to me?”

He hiccuped in response. You could feel his heart race against your breasts, his entire body seeming warm enough to start a fire with his heat alone.

Laughing at his dumbfounded reaction, you pulled away, feeling a lot more cold without him up against you.

You opened your mouth to make a joke about how he was frozen in place, but before you could, he grabbed you with a fervent desire, as well as a slight bit of irritation, locking your lips together with his own.

Surprised, you accepted the kiss, liking the way he seemed almost a little too passionate with you. The two of you stayed like this for a while, devouring one another with your mouths, running your hands over each other’s bodies, before getting annoyed and leaving the dance floor due to others around you constantly bumping into you or murmuring about your display of affection.

Giggling, you once again tugged Leon along, guiding him out of the club. When outside, you turned to look at him, noticing that his hair was all disheveled and his face was almost entirely pink.

Quirking up a smile at him, the two of you practically ran back to the first bar you went to where you parked your cars. As soon as you got to your car, you unlocked it without a pause, swinging open the back door for you and him to climb into. Once you got in and pulled him in with you, you straddled his lap.

He looked up at you with a gaze filled with longing, and you noticed once again that his heart was about ready to jump out of his chest.

You leaned down, kissing him, pressing one of your hands against his neck as his head was leaned back against the seat. His hands slowly rose to cup your waist before eventually wrapping his arms around you completely, yanking you into his tight embrace – there was no escape for you now.

Beginning to grind against the swelling in his pants, you heard his breathing start to get heavier, occasionally breaking up it’s steady flow with large inhales and hiccups. Things started to escalate once you placed your hands under his shirt, on top of the band of his work pants. You teased a finger against his skin, feeling him tense his toned stomach at the cold touch – he let out a small moan as well, it’s noise vibrating into your own mouth as you kept up the feverish kiss.

You pulled your finger back and made your way to the front of his pants, starting to unbuckle his belt. It made clinking noises as you unclasped it’s hook, slipping it around his hips and through the belt loops. You tossed it to the car’s floor without a second thought, and began to reach under Leon’s shirt, under his underwear, feeling the skin of his hips just under where the band rests.

Leon moved a hand up, cupping one of your breasts, and that’s when you began to slip up your dress a little before ultimately attempting at clumsily tugging his pants and briefs down to his mid-thigh area. He had sat up a little to help you do this, and as a reward, you lightly bit his lip, earning a sweet sigh to escape from his lips.

Now ready to move onto the next stage, you broke apart the kiss and put some distance between the two of you as you looked him the eyes, cupping his face with a smile.

“Touch me, Leon,” you said, hiccupping again after you spoke.

His face was serious now, and he took one of his fingers, raising it to your mouth for you to suck. After he deemed that it was sufficiently wet enough, he moved it down low to your folds, pulling aside your panties with his free hand, and inserting it into your core. You moved in to kiss him again, letting out small sighs every time he rubbed softly against the walls of your inner parts.

Eventually, you began to crave more, and he went to insert a second finger. However, before he could, you pulled away from him, reaching for his belt that you had previously tossed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and you only responded with a smile as you wrapped it around his neck. You made a makeshift collar the best you could, and gently inserted a finger in between his neck and the belt before responding.

“Second finger, Leon.” you commanded in a slightly wavering voice, as the alcohol still had quite the effect on you.

Leon listened, pushing in another finger, fucking you with his hand and watching as he did so. He seemed to be in a silent trance, mesmerized by the fact that he was able to do this with you.

You pulled him by his new collar, forcing him to make eye contact with you. His eyes were slightly-lidded, his long eyelashes on full display, along with his wet lips that were waiting – no, begging for you to take hold of them once again. In this moment, he was completely and utterly yours.

After a while of looking at one another as he used his stupidly-big fingers to stroke your sensitive spots, you gently took his hand and clasped it against the back of the seat as if your smaller hand were a chain locked around his bulky wrist. You then, with no hesitation, lowered yourself down onto his freed cock, which had looked painfully red as it pressed inside of you.

Leon let out what sounded like a mix of a grunt and a hiccup as he entered you, and you giggled before leveling yourself on him, wincing a little as you went. Once fully in, you began to grind up against him, your body going back and forth into his hips as you soft-humped him with his cock inside of you. The two of you made small noises together, enjoying the feeling of you mounting him.

Soon enough, you decided to speed things up, now riding him more than grinding or humping against him. He had more of a reaction to this, his muscles constricting as you pushed the shaft skin of his cock back and above the head with every lift and drop of your body. His skin started to get a little sweaty as well, an effect of both the alcohol and the sex, and as such, you leaned over to his neck, licking a stripe up from the base to the edge of his jaw, tasting the perspiration from his balmy body. It tasted very pungent as well as a small bit oily, although you kind of liked it. It was oddly fitting for him, and not the worst taste for a man to have. Yes – it was manly.

As the two of you continued to fuck like you couldn’t get enough of one another, your sex started to get a little more clumsy and in great need of reaching your climaxes. Leon had now taken more control, sliding his hips down into a more relaxed position on the back seat of your car, pistoning up into you as he latched onto your waist with an almost animalistic yearning. You could see his body tense, his muscles bulging as he worked to please the two of you with his cock, and it was clear now that he was going to cum soon.

Grabbing the belt around his neck, you pulled his head close to yours, and listened to the groans full of pleasure that he let out. You started to get close now, too, from hearing every inhale, every exhale, and every throaty moan that escaped his lips. The sounds of his hips slapping up against yours didn’t go unnoticed, either – that brought you plenty closer as well.

Eventually, Leon couldn’t hold himself back anymore. “I’m gonna cum,” he whispered next to your ear in what sounded almost like a deep-whine, and that in itself was enough to push you to the edge as well, letting yourself go on him as he continued to shakily thrust his thick manhood up into your core.

Leon came as well, spurting his hot seed into you in small but plentiful bursts, and you could feel his entire body tighten up as he finished inside you. Since you had climaxed before him, you were a little more clear-minded as he came, and while watching his face, you noticed that he had scrunched it up a little – it was cute for a normally stoic man, you thought.

As the two of you were now finished, you slumped against him, laying your head on his still-clothed chest, your hair getting a little tangled into his neck-belt. Once you had caught your breath, you pulled back, and the makeshift collar tugged on your hair. You made a small yelp sound, and Leon quickly untangled it for you, before smiling up at you.

“That’s what you get for dragging me all over the place tonight,” he said jokingly.

You hiccuped in response, frowning at him. “Pssssh. Whatever – you liked it.” you said, a mischievous grin forming on your face after the words left your mouth. “After all, you did mention loving something about me earlier, right?”

While you expected him to become timid like he was earlier when you flirted with him, he didn’t. Instead, he replied with a cool tone and a determined stare:

“Yeah. I did. I love you.”

For the official and original Kinktober 23 prompts, check here. Credits to @kinktober2023 for the ideas!

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fights4users · 6 months

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This was a overlay in Anaheim from I believe 82’ until the end of the People movers run (when it turned into the disastrous Rocket rods- funnnily enough there was a Tron idea of racing cycles around tommorowland that wouldn’t went on this track. It was one of their initial ideas and potentially how we have lightcycle run today) . Aside from needing a serious oil job from all the squeaking, there is a charm to the OG people over, I’m also jealous it goes through star tours!

Now the Tron portion occurs midway during one of the tunnel portions of the ride. Automatically you can tell what budget their on, the voice isn’t very robotic (compare it today to the train at Disney world where a siren comes on in the tunnel before approaching Tron).

You get digitized in the same exact shot from the film, down to the dial up noise creating pretty stellar projections throughout the tunnel, the same beautiful shots of patterns and circuits. It goes into a lightcycle sequence racing and dodging around you— honestly it’s pretty great visually and I absolutely adore how perfect they have the sound?

“You have escaped Tron’s game grid for now Users,” I’m sobbing. Was he trying to run us down??? Hello?? This is especially funny because going into the tunnel it mentions master control and HE is the one mad/digitizing the guests. It’s the computer world of Tron but not his games.

Video

It’s not as cheesy as I thought it was going to be, in fact it’s a great little tribute/advertisement for the movie itself “wasn’t that cool? Go watch it!” Alongside how back in the day the parks had actual arcades within them too. All I’m saying is we still have a people mover at Disney world and a already existing Tron ride… it’d only be fitting… 80s projections and all.

I like how much influence this held on what ultimately became lightcycle run, now of course it’s set In the sequel but the idea dates back to the original. Both the digitization sequence and lightcycle race are pivotal to both films so it only makes sense they’d want a attraction on it.

#the more you know #tron #tronblr #tron 1982 #tron legacy #disney parks #peoplemover #Tomorrowland transit authority #disneyland #walt disney world #rocket rods #park history #tron lightcycle run #Tron ride #tron rollercoaster #disney history

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elf-osamu · 9 months

Note

Hello!!! I hope you don't mind me requesting a comfort scenario with GN!reader and Gojo Satoru. The reader is touch starved and tired in general so Gojo soothes them to sleep <333

“I WISH YOU SWEET DREAMS”

[ masterlist ] [ reblogs are v v v appreciated ]

hurt/comfort (kind of), romantic relationship, satoru gojō x gn!reader

warning(s) : touch-starved!reader, trouble sleeping, sleep-deprived!reader, pre-established relationship

word count : 583 words

plot : “life can be stressful and exhausting - sometimes, people crave rest and affection”

a/n : I'M SO SORRY FOR WRITING THIS AFTER ALMOST A YEAR OMG, i've been so busy between mental health struggles and school. but i managed to write it ! this request was adorable to write, truly 😭<3 ngl satoru is one of my comfort characters and i love writing for him !!

tiredness seemed to be lingered over your body, like an invisible coat pressed with force on your shoulders, reluctant at the thought of disappearing too soon. it was a rather troublesome feeling, making everything more complicated than it already was — an unpleasant situation to find yourself in.

there wasn’t a specific reason for your behaviour (or was there? as of now, you were too restless to think about your feelings), it had been just an awful week and you hadn’t been able to sleep properly, if not at all. your whole body demanded a place to lie on, to finally rest peacefully without worries on your mind, but it seemed an unsurpassable task, something which required too much trouble and energy to be actually put into practice.

on top of that, your need for physical contact was becoming more and more persistent as the time passed; you craved the comforting sensation that was human warmth; you missed your boyfriend’s, satoru, presence and affection.

it had been a rough time for the both of you: your free hours didn’t align with his and viceversa, resulting in an unmet wish and a desert apartment. you tried to occupy your mind with everything you could think of when waves of loneliness hit you — you had to distract yourself from that constant feeling, otherwise you would have completely succumbed to despair.

however there you were, laying down on the bed with your face drowned in the comfort of your mattress.

as your thoughts got the best of you, you didn’t have the energy to do anything, but your restless mind kept you from feeling enough at ease to rest, even for a short time.

you were planning on another boring and sorrowful night, already visualizing all kinds of misfortunes that could happen from there to the following day, until you suddenly heard a familiar humming. it was low, but it brought a cheerful sound to your ears; hope was growing in your chest, the possibility that at first seemed unthinkable was now almost reality.

as you sensed his presence, you quietly said, almost in a whisper, “satoru?”.

footsteps echoed in the room, answering to your question.

“the one and only” he made himself known, leaving a kiss on the crown of your head.

after he changed into more comfortable clothes, satoru lay down next to you, hugging you to bring you closer to him. your muscles relaxed under his touch and so you hugged his waist, feeling finally comfortable after days.

“bad day?”, he asked softly, not wanting to upset you, and kissed your forehead.

you rested your head on his chest, “bad everything. i’m… so exhausted and i’ve missed you so much”.

he was able to calm your worries with his presence, which was comforting to you. despite being a powerful sorcerer and having to make incredibly hard decisions on a daily basis, he felt like he could show his vulnerable side to you. it wasn’t always like that, it took time to get to the point you two were now — and you both were fine with it.

he kissed your head again, “i missed you too” he whispered, hugging you more tightly. “do you wanna stay here like this?”

your nod was enough to reply to him.

you slowly closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat and syncronizing your breath with his — and soon enough you fell asleep.

“goodnight, [name]” satoru murmured; he was glad he could make you feel safe.

[ do not copy, translate etc. | by @ elf-osamu ]

#az.writes #jjk jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojou x reader #satoru gojou #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #jjk gojo #gojou satoru x reader #x gn!reader #x gn reader #gn reader #satoru gojo x gn reader #gojo satoru x gn reader

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asvterias · 10 months

Text

𝖢𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖢𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗌𝗒 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 ~ 𝖡𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖡𝗂𝗑𝗅𝖾𝗋

warnings: none

pairings: bridget x fem!black!reader

genres: mutual pining, prolonged confessions & sophie being a matchmaker

summary: having a secret crush isn’t the best way to go about your feelings but as for [name] it’s definitely a miracle worker.

word count: 1.4k+

author’s note: for this oneshot [name] is mixed. apologies for publishing this so late, the story was already written but i just had to proofread it.

tag list: @c6pids @melodramatic-lesbian @simpforseungkwan

it was friday night, and your parents finally agreed, letting you go out alongside your older cousin. it took a lot of convincing to gain their understanding of this outing. your parents were very cynical about your whereabouts but not enough to be overbearing.

there was a new bowling alley that was just recently opened, and you wanted to just let loose and live a little.

walking inside the entertainment place, a smile sprung onto your face looking at the passing people, both young and old having themselves a good time.

“hey, sophie.” a voice greets which made your blood run cold. that voice was so distinctive and that tone held such a charming ring to it. exasperatedly you close your eyes in anticipation, aware of the upcoming conversation that was already beyond control.

you groan internally as you slowly peel your eyes back open to see bridget waving and smiling at you. “hey [name]. i didn’t know you were coming.”

your cousin just failed to mention one tiny detail…that her best friend… who is also your crush will be there. you should have seen this coming, wherever sophie was, bridget will be present as well.

“well, just heard that this place opened up and i wanted to check it out.” you manage out an awkward chuckle, clicking your tongue.

god, you wish that the earth would eat you whole right now.

bridget nods in understanding a smile still creeping onto her lips. it was so cute, she tried her hardest to not leave things on an awkward note but you made it seemingly impossible, so the best thing to do was to deflect from the situation.

there was no possibility that you disliked bridget bixler but it was the quite opposite, your feelings were out of affection and unrequited passion.

bridget bixler, the girl of your dreams. she’s always ready to protest when something seems unjust to her and is surprisingly decently smart when it revolves around her schoolwork.

it wasn’t that many people, just the five of you. you, bridget, sophie, alexis (your bff), lola (alexis’ gf).

you gained a crush on her for almost two months now and currently sitting next to her wasn’t helping the butterflies in your stomach to cease. after being physically tired from a few rounds of bowling, everyone ordered a pizza and chilled it down with cold cans of soda.

right now, everyone was finishing up their food, and soon getting to depart and head home but you were already dozed off. your mouth slightly agape as your head was against the soft cushion of the seat.

it was embarrassing, to be honest, and you knew for sure that your cousin was going to taunt you, most likely with visual proof. your cousin snickers, taking her phone out and snapping photos of you.

meanwhile, bridget was secretly staring at your dazed state, rolling her eyes when your cousin took a picture of your sleeping form. “stop taking pictures of her, sophie!” momentarily, your cousin playfully rolls her eyes as she stopped and continued to eat her remaining pizza.

slowly but gently, the bixler girl grabs your arms and places your head on her shoulder. she leans back in the seat, and wraps an arm around you, pulling you in closer for reassurance. bridget admired you for a few minutes before diverting her attention back to her phone.

she pretended to not notice when you gripped her shirt in comfort and your tiny hum of satisfaction came from your mouth. this brought a wide smile to the brunette’s lips.

god, you were so adorable.

“what?” bridget looks at her other friend, who knowingly smirks.

“when are you gonna finally confess? it’s been ages now.” sophie teases and wiggles her eyebrows.

bridget’s eyes widen at her friend’s statement and immediately shushes her, thinking that you might accidentally overhear their conversation. “sophie, be quiet!”

“why? you know, i’m right.” she shrugs and goes back to her phone.

bridget frowns, “what if she thinks that i’m way out of her league?”

“ok, first of all, you both like girls and you’re her type so technically, all you need to do is ask her out.” your cousin defends the situation. “just confess to her, what can go wrong?”

“it’s not that simple…” bridget exhales, gazing down at the table, avoiding eye contact with her friend. “what if she is interested in girls but doesn’t feel the same towards me and plainly rejects me, either way, it’s basically a lose-lose.”

“well, you won’t know that until you confess, now will you?” sophie crosses her arms and scoffs. the blonde loved her best friend but her deflecting the situation was starting to annoy her.

unaware to the girls, they didn’t notice that their ‘quiet’ shouting woke you up and you heard almost everything there is to know.

‘bridget has a crush but doesn’t want to confess to the person.’

now being filled with curiosity, you were determined on getting bridget to express her feelings first.

this night just got more interesting.

to put your plan into action, you fake yawn and stretch your limbs, deceiving them into thinking that you were asleep. “what are we talking about?” the two girls exchange secret glances and remained silent.

“ok…” you nodded along, clasping your hands together before looking at bridget and speaking up again. “actually, bridget do you mind if i speak to you for a minute?”

she hesitantly nods and gets up, following after you. she managed to catch you outside, up on one of the many balconies. luckily for both of you, this balcony was empty and no one was around to disturb you.

you sigh, taking in the beautiful scenery at night. “i overheard your conversation with sophie.” you turned around, just in time to see her face drop in fear. this causes a flush in your cheeks, thinking that you got the wrong idea. “cause if you don’t have a crush on me that’s totally cool.” you began to ramble on watching how she smiles at your awkwardness.

too caught up in your own embarrassment, the short-haired brunette stepped closer to you, continually letting you ramble on. she found herself lost in your beautiful e/c.

suddenly, she cups your face and softly presses her lips onto yours, momentarily ending your rambles. at first, you were stunned, and confused at this weird turn of events but reciprocated the kiss anyway. the kiss was magical, her lips were soft, delicate like a full-bloomed flower. her fragrance smelt of cinnamon and rose which made her irresistible to you.

the bixler girl finally pulls away from the kiss, “i just want you to know that this means that i like you as well.” she smiles a dopey grin. that same beautiful smile that made you fawn over her more than intended.

“is this a dream?” you stupidly ask, still hazy from the passionate kiss.

“nope, i assure you it’s not.” bridget chuckles, observing your flustered state. seemingly, she got an idea as she tilts her head and a tiny smirk make her way onto her lips, “i think i know of a way how to wake you up.” she suggests, smoothly wrapping her arms around your waist.

she surely had a way with words. her words enticed you in ways beyond measure, being part of her seduction in entrapping you in her life.

“oh yeah??” you challenged, raising an eyebrow in question. she nods in agreement as your arms rest on her shoulders, her hands on your waist tugging you into her, leaving no personal space.

soon her lips were pressed up against yours again, this time more sweet and sensitive. deepening the kiss as bridget’s arms tighten around your waist drawing you closer in her embrace, clinging onto more of your touch.

safe to say, that you didn’t leave empty-handed and got a girlfriend in the process.

#bridget bixler #bridget evil dead rise #gabrielle echols #gabrielle echols icons #evil dead rise #evil dead rise x reader #evil dead rise x fem!reader #bridget x reader #bridget x fem!reader #bridget bixler x reader #bridget bixler x fem!reader #bridget evil dead rise x reader #bridget evil dead rise x fem!reader

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bro-atz · 3 months

Text

1024UB CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: IS THIS A DATE?

word count: 3.5k

table of contents ♤ previous chapter ♤ next chapter

Gyuri didn’t think she had any weird kinks. She got turned on by the standard things, and that was pretty much it. However, seeing an exceptionally emotionally vulnerable San the other night really did it for her. She thought about the look on his face at odd hours during the day, and it definitely wasn’t helpful to visualize him in the middle of cooking, or class, or literally any other time. She absolutely adored the way he kissed her that night, too. She always hated kisses that were just pecks on the lips, but she’d literally do anything for him to kiss her softly like that again.

Whenever the thought of him that night popped into her head, she involuntarily touched her lips, and right after, she would remember the sad yet sultry look on his face when he hovered above her. Every time she thought about it, she could feel heat rush to her cheeks, and she would have to press her hands against her cheeks to calm them down. It was quite annoying to do this on the hour every hour she was awake, but God, that look was everything to the point where she really wished she had a picture of his face.

In the same vein, she was also extremely frustrated with him. She wanted to know what led him to that point that day, but every time she brought it up, he just brushed her off and avoided the subject or gave her a half-assed answer. Heat rampaged through her stomach thinking about how much she wanted him to look at her like that again but with at least knowing the reason why this time. Her fingers found their way to her lips once more and pressed lightly.

“Hello? Earth to Gyuri?” Gyuri snapped out of her trance when someone waved their hand in front of her face.

“Sorry, I spaced out,” she immediately apologized.

She was at Ze Cafe with Seonghwa just grabbing coffee and chilling out. He asked her to hang out with him, and given the situation they all were in, she had no choice but to say yes. She wasn’t opposed to hanging out with Seonghwa, but honestly speaking, she wanted to spend a little more time with San on the weekends.

“Yeah, I could tell. What’s on your mind?” Seonghwa asked.

“Oh, nothing, really…”

“Are your lips chapped or something? You keep touching them,” Seonghwa pointed out. “I have some lip—”

“No!, No, they’re fine,” Gyuri interrupted him.

Seonghwa nodded and took a sip of his coffee before saying, “Are you okay? You seem out of it.”

Gyuri didn’t know how to respond to that. She knew she had to lie because there was no way in hell she was going to tell Seonghwa about her and San— not yet for that matter. She moved her fingers from her lips to her forehead and said, “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just a little mentally-not-here… That last assignment was horrible.”

“God, yeah, that was killer,” Gyuri was relieved that he accepted her response. “Maybe we should take the day to do relaxing things?”

“What, relaxing at Ze Cafe isn’t enough?” Gyuri couldn’t help but laugh.

“Let’s do something new and go out.”

Her heart tightened— why did he phrase it like that? Did he mean go hang out? Go out and hang? Was he asking her on a date? Gyuri thought that denial would be her friend in that situation, so she said, “Sure, we can go hang out,” hoping that the crisis would be averted.

“Cool. I was thinking the museum— that new photography exhibit just opened up, and I know how much you’d been wanting to go,” Seonghwa smiled and leaned back in his chair.

“Oh my God, yes!” a smile immediately spread across her face, only to fall seconds later. “Wait, but can we even get tickets? They’re sold out already… I tried to get them the other day.”

“I managed to snag two,” Seonghwa said nonchalantly.

A bad feeling started to emerge from deep within Gyuri’s gut. She had been trying to get tickets for the exhibit for well over two weeks now, and the fact that Seonghwa just happened to have two tickets didn’t sit well with her. She hoped that he originally got them for him and his ex-girlfriend, and now he needed someone to go with. Gyuri kept telling herself that as she responded, “Okay, let’s go.”

“Let’s leave now, then?” Seonghwa stood up, his coffee mug in hand.

Gyuri nodded and stood up as well. She locked eyes with Seonghwa, only for him to grin widely. Gyuri responded with a weak smile because she just knew something bad was going to happen, but she didn’t know how the hell she would get out of that situation at that point. Also, she still really did want to go to the exhibit, so she swallowed her fear and doubt and went with Seonghwa to the exhibit.

Upon arriving at the exhibit, she and Seonghwa were talking pretty normally, which made Gyuri feel a whole lot better about the situation. They barely stood in line for the exhibit, and when Seonghwa produced the tickets for them to get into the exhibit, Gyuri caught a brief glimpse at them. There were timestamps for the tickets, but it was not the purchase date— rather, it was an entry time. Gyuri checked the time on her phone and tried to recollect the time on the ticket, but she was only able to see it in the fleeting moment. Regardless, something was definitely weird about the tickets and the way Seonghwa got her to come with him for the exhibit.

The exhibit itself was a dream for Gyuri. Since she loved traveling the world, she also loved pictures of the world. She was a novice at taking them herself, so she was always in awe of the people who could do what she always wanted to do. Her heart fluttered as she saw the beautiful landscapes of South America. She quietly resolved to herself that the next place she solo-backpacked through would be South America.

She stood before one picture in particular: the Bolivian salt flats. She just stared at the reflection of the sky on the flats and wondered how on Earth a place like this existed, especially after humans ruined everything. Her arms rested at her sides as she just took in the beauty of the photo, the sounds around her filtering out. It was simply just her and the photograph.

That was when she was snapped back to reality. She felt someone come up from behind her, and she immediately turned around to see that it was Seonghwa. He didn’t seem to notice that she was looking at him— he, too, seemed enamored with the photo. Gyuri hesitantly directed her attention back to the photograph, painfully aware that she and Seonghwa were standing extremely close to each other. She could feel her heart racing, and it took everything in her to not hold her hand over her beating heart. She settled for balling her hands into fists.

“Hey, there’s more over here,” Seonghwa whispered, his voice dangerously close to her ear.

He turned and walked towards the place he was talking about, but before he had, Gyuri felt his shoulder and hand brush lightly against her. She froze. Her mind was reeling. She wanted to know what the hell her own feelings were. Did she still have a crush on Seonghwa? Was it guilt that she was here with Seonghwa? She asked herself various versions of these questions as she and Seonghwa continued walking, the questions making her unable to even comprehend the rest of the exhibit.

Gyuri was able to calm herself down and act normal as they left the exhibit and went to a nearby bistro for lunch. They sat across from each other, and thankfully they were able to converse normally. Honestly, Gyuri was starting to forget how their friendship used to be before she started having that crush on him, and now she was remembering. They talked about dumb shit from their high school years and their college days, and overall just had a good time.

“Do you remember when Mr. Lee asked Ms. Song out during Valentine’s Day?” Seonghwa asked.

“Oh my God, yes! I was part of the committee that handed out the valentines that day. Seeing their names really freaked me out,” Gyuri covered her mouth as she remembered.

“I still can’t believe she said yes. I heard from someone that they’re actually engaged now.”

“No fucking way! Good for them.”

“Oh, speaking of engaged, did you know that Hyunjin is actually getting married in a couple months?”

“Yeah, I got the wedding invitation. It’s so crazy that he’s getting married so young,” Gyuri munched on her salad with slight disgust.

“Forget that, I can’t believe he’s the first one of us to get married. That boy was such a slut, I’m surprised he picked one person,” Seonghwa laughed.

“Dear God, yes! There was that rumor that he was spreading whatever STD it was around the student body, right? That wasn’t real, right?”

“No, he’s clean.”

“How do you know this?” Gyuri was a little skeptical.

“He forced me to come to the clinic with him as a witness,” Seonghwa frowned. “He didn’t have to go so far to prove the point… The receptionist thought that we were together.”

Gyuri nearly choked on her salad just thinking about her best friend dating that boy slut Hyunjin. High school Gyuri would’ve also been mortified.

They continued to talk, but at some point, it was Gyuri driving the conversation. She kept the conversation going even long after all their food had disappeared and their coffee cups were empty. She was complaining to him about something Wooyoung did, and that’s when she noticed it. Seonghwa was laughing with her, yes, but not in the way he normally was. She felt like he was really observing her, and his smile was sweeter than usual. His sweater was pulled up enough to give him sweater paws, which she only noticed because he was resting his cheek on his hand, his elbow on the table. His dark, neatly styled hair was covering his eyes where Gyuri could see them, but not to the point where she could really figure out the expression on his face other than his breathtaking smile making him seem so much happier than he had been in a while. Her heart was beating so loud that she was worried that he would hear her heart pounding against her ribs; but he was sitting across from her, so he definitely couldn’t tell.

They ended up leaving the bistro right as the sun was setting. Gyuri was about to ask Seonghwa if they should head home, but he started walking in a different direction and said, “Let’s go for a walk.”

Gyuri didn’t know how to oppose that, so she nodded and walked alongside him. They reached a park with a beautiful garden that actually had flowers blooming despite the harsh weather of November, a path to walk through the orange-hued trees, and a playground with children enjoying their lives. Gyuri couldn’t help but smile— she wasn’t overly fond of children, but just seeing the way they played made her nostalgic of the days when life wasn’t so complicated. She felt her heart ache.

Along with her heart aching was the bad feeling returning to her gut. She looked to Seonghwa to see him just looking straight ahead of them at the path through the trees. They didn’t utter a word to each other as they both found their feet leading them to the path. Gyuri wanted oh so badly to say something to relieve the building tension between them. She didn’t want to know what was coming for her despite basically knowing what was going to happen. She’d seen it in all the dramas and tv shows; it was such a cliche that she found it hard to believe that she was now living the cliche.

She felt his fingers wrap around her arm and pull her aside, Gyuri losing her footing and nearly falling right into Seonghwa’s chest. There was a runner coming their way, and she definitely would have collided with the guy had Seonghwa not pulled her aside.

“Thanks,” she croaked out; great, now the anxiety was pouring out of every crevice of her body.

Gyuri leaned back and tried to get her arm out of Seonghwa’s grasp, but he held on the slightest bit tighter. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest as his hand moved up towards her face. She didn’t dare close her eyes, and it was a good thing she didn’t because all he was doing was brushing a leaf out of her hair. Gyuri laughed awkwardly and smoothed her hair in the exact spot Seonghwa moved the leaf from, only for her to place her hand on top of his. She looked up to see his intense, focused gaze. Their eyes met, and in that moment, Gyuri forgot how to breathe. She took in all of his beauty and felt her heart go even faster as she still forgot to breathe.

Seonghwa pulled her in slightly closer— only the tiniest bit. His hand moved from her hair down to her cheek. She felt his fingertips trail along her neck tickling the nape of her neck. His face came in closer slowly.

Gyuri was frozen. She closed her eyes tightly as she felt his soft lips press lightly against hers. He moved away for a split second before kissing her a little more lovingly. She did not dare move as he leaned away. She opened her eyes to see him smiling softly at her, and she immediately felt tears spring to her eyes. His hand that was holding onto her arm slipped down so that he was barely holding her fingertips, and his other hand completely moved away from her body. Gyuri felt like every spot on her body that he touched grew hotter by the second.

When Seonghwa exhaled, Gyuri looked up at him again. She hoped that he had just kissed her out of curiosity, that he wasn’t going to say what she thought he was going to say. However, like the cliche, he said something she really didn’t want him to say with that soft smile still on his face. “I’ve been wanting to tell you since our senior year in high school, but I really like you. I can’t imagine spending a day without you. Not seeing you when I was stuck with Bora was horrible, and I hate that I listened to her lies… But I know now, and I’ve learned from my mistake. I should have told you that I liked you before she entered our lives, but I kept quiet. I kept quiet for so long because I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same way about me. I was insecure. Now, all I know is that I want you to know how I feel.”

“Hwa…” Gyuri’s voice wavered. “If you really liked me all this time, then why’d you say all those nasty things about me to my face?”

“It was all because of Bora. She was the one shoving poison down my throat. I’ve never once thought of you like that. You’re my best friend, Gyu.”

Gyuri stepped back slightly and shook her head. There were many thoughts revolving in her mind, one of them being Seonghwa kissing Bora and how happy he looked with her. In their seven years of friendship, not once did he look at her like that, so she couldn’t believe a word he was saying. She remembered how traumatizing it was for him to call her those horrid names and walk out on their friendship so easily for that girl. “…You really have no idea how much you hurt me,” she managed to say out loud.

“I’m sorry, Gyuri. I truly am so sorry. Please forgive me. You’re everything to me. Everything and more.”

Seonghwa wrapped his arms around the girl and left a light kiss on the top of her head. She tried to get out of his grip, her tears falling rapidly. “Seonghwa, please, let go of me… Please stop,” she sobbed.

Ignoring her, he petted her head slowly until she stopped fighting him. She still wanted him to let go, but she lost all the strength she had. Gyuri settled for grabbing his shirt collar and measly pushing against him, only for her head to rest against her chest. She stared at her shoes as Seonghwan’s hug eased up the slightest bit. Her tears were still falling, but she stopped sobbing.

“Let me make it up to you,” Seonghwa’s voice broke slightly.

Gyuri looked up to see tears in his eyes too, making her want to cry all over again. His lips were pulled into a painful frown as his thumb shakily wiped the tears from her eyes. She just couldn’t hold eye contact any longer. Her heart was hurting so bad. She felt like someone drove a stake through her heart and kept twisting it and twisting it. Her mind went blank as she unconsciously wrapped her arms around his waist. A gust of wind rushed past them and knocked more leaves out of the trees, but Gyuri didn’t hear the wind rushing past her ears or feel the leaves falling through the sound of her heart pounding and her body slowly getting numb.

Right at that moment, San popped into her mind. She thought about the way San held her and how he somehow knew exactly how to comfort her in various scenarios. She didn’t feel right in Seonghwa’s arms, and her face did not press into his chest comfortably. She didn’t like the way Seonghwa was petting her hair despite feeling that pet for years. Her body ached to get away from Seonghwa and run to San. She managed to pull away from Seonghwa enough so that he would let go of her. He tried to hold onto her arm or hand, but luckily, she was able to slip out of that.

The two stood in silence, unable to look at each other. Gyuri looked away and dried her tears to the best of her abilities before saying, “I’m sorry, Seonghwa. I don’t feel the same way about you. Not anymore…”

The last part slipped out of her mouth without her realizing it until she heard herself say it. She prayed that Seonghwa wouldn’t pick up on that, and her prayers worked. “It’s fine. I just want you to know how I feel. You don’t have to feel the same way, not yet at least. I’ll wait for you.”

“No. You shouldn’t,” Gyuri shook her head. She wanted to tell him it was because she liked San, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit the whole truth; she settled for part of the truth, “I think we need to stay friends for now. It’s going to take me a lot of time for me to trust you again.”

“I understand.”

He really didn’t, but at that point, Gyuri wanted to do anything to leave the situation. Seonghwa successfully reclaimed her hand and sandwiched it between his hands lightly. Gyuri nearly flinched, but she saw the look on his face— he was sporting the saddest smile, and his eyes glistened with tears. They were silent once again as they looked at one another.

“I, uh, think I should head home,” Gyuri whispered.

“Okay…”

Silence again. Not a single person moved.

“Can I at least walk you home?” Seonghwa broke the silence.

Gyuri could only really nod. The two ended up walking home in silence, Gyuri walking a couple feet ahead of Seonghwa. When they arrived at 1024UB, Seonghwa took her hand one more time. Gyuri looked at him sadly; he was not making this any easier for her. They both made eye contact one last time as Seonghwa said softly, “I want you to know how I feel, but that doesn’t mean I want to stop being your friend. Take some time for yourself. I’ll wait for you.”

With that, Seonghwa gave her hand a light squeeze and entered the building before her. Gyuri remained frozen in place from the second Seonghwa left until the elevator he took returned back to the lobby. Numb, she took the elevator to her floor, entered her apartment, set her belongings on the dining table, and made her way to the couch. She sat on the rug in front of the couch and hugged her legs to her chest.

She thought about the kiss he gave her, and then thought about him and Bora. She thought about the way he held her hand and then remembered the first time he introduced Bora as his girlfriend and how he held her hand that day. She thought about him hugging her, him apologizing, his sad smile, his warmth, and then she thought about the rage in his eyes, anger in his voice, the tension in his fists, and the malice in his words when he chose Bora over her. Tears flooded Gyuri’s eyes, but before they could spill, she wiped them with her sweater sleeve. She did her best to keep her sobs as quiet as possible, which was definitely a Herculean task given how much paint every single part of her heart was enduring.

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martiya · 5 days

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EXCERPT ONE: HOW THEY CAME TO BE

entry for @kirbyoctournament

One peaceful Tuesday, on a starry night, a boy heads to his bed after a very stressful day at night school. Exhausted, he crawls into his bedsheets without even changing his clothes, and rapidly falls asleep. Very few ticks later, he awakens in what seems to be the human representation of the inner area of a wormhole. He also wakes to what seems to be an abnormal mix of both extremely negative and positive thoughts. This deviant behavior of the brain wouldn’t be considered usual. But it didn’t really matter, for he probably was not even in his own reality anymore. Two instants later, he starts feeling as though various different-sized sharp objects were ripping a vertical line on his body… Yet, he removes his clothes while groaning in excruciating pain only to find nothing out of the ordinary on his body. Not even a scratch. As he lays there, staring at the somehow visually appealing walls of the wormhole’s throat, he hears a very loud “PLLKKKCCHHHH!”. He screams in visible agony. He knows that feeling is too realistic to be a dream… “It can’t be real, can it?!” mutters the little kid as his body is being ripped vertically in half. He then blacks out. The mysterious force finally manages to rip the entire body in half… BUT… Instead of the two halves drifting away and eventually disintegrating like a normal person’s, one half becomes this ball of blinding light, and the other turns into this ball of… dark matter? Then, as if this scene wasn’t already confusing enough, two star shaped portals appear. Just after the two spheres start to take shape, each disappears into one portal. The portals then close, leaving only the distant echo of an ear-piercing scream…

EXCERPT 1.1: POSITIVITY

After quite the episode, the ball of light enters the portal at the left face of the wormhole’s throat. The scenery, wouldn’t you say it’s gorgeous? Filled with beautiful cumuli of stars here and there, some black holes over there, star-shaped planets over here… You would marvel at the variety of spacey objects lying around. The sphere of light then travels to one unnamed planet at the time. As it starts taking shape, two pointy cat-like ears start to form. They would remind any Nintendo player of something… A certain character. The sphere starts taking the shape of that character, with his exact clothes and glowing eyes, or so it seems… When finally revealed, the character looks almost identical to Mahoroa, a famously known character for his adorable appearance and wicked personality. What sets this particular character apart from his video-game counterpart is his clothes and eyes. The yellow of both the eyes and hood is replaced with a fluorescent green, while the blue part is replaced by a dark, yet vivid purple. Mahoroa is known as well for having a gear pattern sewn on the inner part of his hood. This particular clone (?) however, has a spike pattern with an uneven number of spikes, rumored to symbolize the incident that took place a few moments before. Aside from that, he seamlessly resembles his video-game counterpart. But… Where did the other half go…?

EXCERPT 1.1.1: ANGEL

This somewhat mysterious character usually presents himself as Nitiya, though his actual name is unknown to all. The denizens of this equally unusual universe are aware of his spine-chilling past, however. Residents of this universe have described him as “a powerful, adorable angel with seemingly zero negativity present inside his mind.” And, residents are always genuine when talking about his positive attitude, because it shows. Nitiya has the same voice as Mahoroa, yet a very different mindset. Nitiya doesn’t seek power. Nitiya is a truly honest being. Nitiya does everything to help those in need, one way or the other. Nitiya hasn’t shown a frown, or expressed any signs of negativity in his mind. Nitiya is always positive. Whenever his past comes up while he’s around, he always says the same thing:

“Oh! The past is just a crumpling memory, trying to haunt us, trying to slow us down. Even if my past may not match my present, who cares? What matters is the present, always!”

He also quite enjoys demonstrating his abilities, some believe he may be even more powerful than Mahoroa himself.

^ appearance for those wondering, creds to my wonderful suleiman for the art!!

#kirby oc #kirby oc tournament

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babyapocalypse · 8 months

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haven’t really seen a Duncney story in a while, maybe you could do something? Little and plot doesn’t matter, just write whatever you come up with 💜

YAY okay I’ll do little Court if thats alright !! :-)

Courtney was stressed out during her counselor trainings, causing her to crash about every night when she came home. So much for being a C.I.T. when she barely even has freedom. She sighed, overwhelmed by everything. The smallest noise was enough to make her break out into tears. She lived in a small house, nearly the size of an apartment, just a bit bigger. She laid on the couch, crying into her pillow.

Duncan had come over, worried since his texts weren’t being answered. He wanted to check on her since he knew she wasn’t necessarily in the best mental space lately. He walked in using his spare key, looking at her sobbing on the couch. “Hey, Princess, what’s wrong?” He said, rubbing her back. There was visual concern on his face, he was truly worried for the girl. This wasn’t like her, she never was this upset. He sighed, waiting for a response. He tried not to make eye contact incase that was pressuring.

She slowly lifted up her head, warm tears rolling down both of her cheeks. “It’s just been so hard lately. I want to regress and I just feel like I can’t. It’s stressing me out, training is so much on me.” She said, in absolute hysterics. Duncan left the room, grabbing her little gear before sitting back down. “We’re going to try, okay?” He said, staring at her directly. She saw the look of love in his eyes. She agreed, sitting there and looking up at him as he stood up.

He got her changed into a onesie with little animals on it and grabbed her pacifier. He waited for her to open her mouth before placing it in, wanting to wait until she was surely ready. She opened up as he gently slid it in. “Here you go, darling.” He said, rubbing her back in a circular motion. She was already starting to feel extremely little and she couldn’t control it. It was like she was shrinking. She mumbled a bit, nervous about Duncan seeing her this messy when regressed.

“Hey, babygirl, you’re alright.” He reassured her, picking her up and rocking her in his arms. His muscles were hard as rock, yet soft and cushiony for her head. She laid there in his arms, looking up at him. She snuggled into him, causing him to smile. For such a punk boy who had commit crimes, he really was a lovebug. He had such an extremely big soft spot, even if he didn’t like to show it.

He carried her to the bedroom, gently placing her down on the bed. He tucked her in, grabbing a book from her bookshelf. He looked around the extremely long, lengthy chapter books. There was nothing for kids! He looked down a shelf, finding all the picture books. He pulled out a story about princess bunnies, giving it a shot.

“Hey, want Dada to read to you, beautiful?” He asked her, staring at her as he waited for a response. She nodded her head, breaking out into a smile. Duncan had read the book, imitating the different characters voices. Courtney giggled, finding it silly how he was acting them out. He smiled at her, glad she was enjoying his little show going on.

He finished the book up, putting it aside on the nightstand. She looked extremely tired, breaking out in a few yawns here and there. He tucked her in better, making sure she was really snug. He handed her a stuffed bunny which she had snuggled up to. He went to go turn on her night light which projected little hearts onto the ceiling. “Wow, someone’s a fancy pretty princess, eh?” He said, laughing at how adorable her little gear was.

He got her all situated for bed, double checking everything. “I think you’re good to go!” He said, kissing her on the forehead, making an exit. “Wher dada goin? Dada nuh gon sleep wif me..?” She said, her eyes flooding with tears. He didn’t plan on staying the night, but he felt so bad. He had spare pajamas at her house thankfully, so he said he was just going to grab those.

He got ready for the night, doing his usual routine. Once he was all changed into his pajamas, he went back into her room and tucked himself in. He was holding her in his arms, snuggling up to her. He kissed her on the cheek, whispering a little ‘goodnight my sweet girl’ before they both dozed off, ready for another day they get to spend together when they both wake up.

#total drama agere

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docholligay · 6 months

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The House in Fata Morgana: Door Six--The Maid's Tale

I have never reviewed a visual novel before, but iscahwynn made me a very generous offer and a long line of patience, knowing that we are trying something very new. To that end: Please don’t spoil me for the game at all! If you are reading this, I have only gotten through the part written above, and I don’t want to be corrected, even if I’m wrong, even if I’ve missed something, i don’t want to have anything confirmed or denied, and I don’t need any trigger warnings or extraneous explanation. Iscah would like my pure, naive experience of the game. Thank you!

Okay so this was not God’s most thrilling episode in Fata Morgana, admittedly. That’s not to say it was bad, but it’s a lot of ground that we already have been over, and it leads to an idea that we’ve been introduced to within the story before, with a few extra details, some of which are neat, but regrettably none of which seem to do enough to deepen the character of Giselle that I can fully adore the chapter, and the end of which is definitely prolonged in a way that doesn’t keep me engaged.

Spoilers below:

Genuinely the most interesting idea that comes up in this is something we’ve thought about mildly before, but really haven’t delved into deeply, and that is: At what point along the line do you stop being yourself? The whole point of this chapter is to watch Giselle lose herself, bit by bit, on the backdrop of stories we know. And i LOVE that. I love watching Giselle try to protect herself, but in trying to protect herself, she is chipping away at herself, bit by bit. It’s like, you know how freezing preserves things? But, if you leave it frozen for long enough, it gets freezerburnt, until eventually, whatever you saved, is inedible. Is nothing. Bears no resemblance to what it was. What is the moment for that?

This is a thing that I love thinking about. I love the idea that you can’t trust yourself, and how easily we can be convinced that our memories are different. How we are all the unreliable narrators of our own lives. You tell yourself a story enough times, and the details get tweaked just enough, each time, slipping further and further away until the cliff of the reality falls away into the sea. What does truth even mean, if the story that now stands has meaning to us? I love this idea that so much of Michel is no longer a memory but a STORY, and in being a story, it can change as it needs to, which is what leads us to the white haired girl.

I am still not certain that Michel ISN’T Michelle, somehow. I don’t know why i persist in this even though the story keeps telling me no, and I’ll be honest, I don’t even want to deal with whatever strange gender handling they would have around it, but it feels like too much of a coincidence to me that there’s two weirdass put-upon albinos running around this mansion. Also, could that be what she’s talking about when she says, ‘You havent’ figured it out yet?” because I BELIEVE I HAVE. UNLESS. Unless. What if Michelle is a construction created by the witch, in order to fool Giselle and drop her down into despair? That’s something I could not only live with, but seems to fit the general super-evil we have going for Morgana, and I think I would like it as a narrative bit.

Speaking of being two people and being one person, I actually sort of love the idea of Giselle also being the witch, even though I know we’re not going to have that be any kind of reality within the story. The idea that to protect herself, she could have split like that, that the witch fell in love with the boy who revived her (Very interesting also, that. So Michel did make a deal with the devil, that wasn’t just part of the mythos.) and when he rejected her or whatever I can imagine might have happened, she constructed this whole beautiful story, and then it wasn’t beautiful enough still, and so she created yet another layer of story on top of it. The fucking palimpsest of our own personal histories. Incredible, love it. I don’t think it’s something the story is doing, but I love the idea.

I love how I was like ‘This wasn’t a super exciting episode” but I’ve spent like 500 words talking about this one aspect. I’m not lying though! It’s just that this one idea is SO good that it barely matters that the rest sort of drags.

We give Morgana a lot of shit within the story for manipulating Giselle or whatever, and I’m not saying she’s great, and in fact I admit that she is a mustache-twirling villain, and I love that for her. But. Morgana could have been very straightforwardly, ‘babygirl I am going to emotionally tear you down over hundreds of years, but I promise you, you will find him, reconstructed to be your Michel. If. If. You can keep yourself long enough to find him.” and she would not even for one second let Morgana fucking FINISH before she said, “Yes. That’s great. I’ll do it.”

It is funny to me though, when Hayden shows up and she’s like, “Oh, i learned a few words of English in 1099, THAT’LL BE ENOUGH TO CONVERSE.” Okay, you have to be fucking shitting me, I have no idea why they didn’t just do the, ‘The house translates what I say into English or Spanish (We never bring it up in Spain) or whatever” It’s such a bizarre thing to specifically call out, and I think it’s actually more clunky than not having it be brought up at all. I did very much love the line, “Blood is nothing but an obstacle to ambition.” I thought that was great.

Okay, if I don’t talk about it now, i’m not going to: I LOVED the part where she asks if he thinks she can even come close to being the same person, if she might not hate him after having waited all this time, after his sacrifice also made a sacrifice of her. What does it mean to love her, now that she is irrevocably changed? He is Michel, reconstructed. But she is not Giselle, reconstructed. She is Giselle, who has been forced to go on. She has nearly a thousand years behind her, of watching and waiting and loving and hating. She is Giselle and she is the Maid and she is the Witch and she has wanted the best of beasts and men and white haired girls. I loved that! If course, she backtracks it so so fast, and that frustrates me because that could be so much more interesting than just literally finding her again in the darkness and, I don’t know, hitting Morgana with a chair. If he had to own up to being willing to love her while she hates him.

Love this line: “Some times I think love and fanaticism are the same thing.” I totally fucking disagree but I love the line, and I love the bitterness that comes out of the line.

“The Story behind the Story” is such an odd way to open the next door, and puts me in mind of something like a behind the scenes writing documentary mid-VN, which would be fucking hilarious and amazing.

#Doc plays The House in Fata Morgana #Doc plays games #Commission review

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g0ttal0ve101 · 2 months

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Valentine’s Day Special

Note: (4/4) lukai :3 TW: it’s complicated. uh. cannibals being cute.

“How can you already be sleepy?” Kai purred with a toothy smile, grabbing his waist and holding him like there was no tomorrow. “It’s not even time for bed yet…”

Sleepily, Lucian rested his head against his boyfriend’s lap and wiggled closer so that they could share their body heat. “I had too much to eat.”

“Mmh, yeah?” Moving the stray hair from his face and tucking it behind his ear with one finger, he watched as Lucian’s face remained unmoved. With his lips slightly parted and his eyelids drooping ever so gradually, he could hardly resist the urge to kiss him all over. “Cutie.”

A sleepy giggle erupted from his throat when hearing that nickname. Kai rarely used pet names unless he wanted to console, persuade, or seduce him. In this case, it was clearly the latter. Lucian’s eyes peeled open to exchange a glance at his boyfriend doting on him like a lapdog and cheekily grinned.

“Do you know what tomorrow is?” Lucian averted his attempts of flirtation to a different subject, wondering whether he would follow through with the act or not. It didn’t come as a surprise when he saw it fly right over his head.

“Yep.”

“Really? What is it?”

Blinking while desperately yearning for words to fall onto his tongue, Kai’s adoring smile appeared silly rather than genuine. His boyfriend waited patiently for his reply with closed eyes and slowed breaths. He was practically half-asleep before his voice finally rang out through the comfortable silence. “Um, V-Val…Val-in-times Day.”

Lucian placed his two fingers right above Kai’s belly button and absentmindedly worked his way up to his chest as if his hand were on a grand journey. It wasn’t until he reached his abdomen that he paused, planting the entirety of his palm against his chest with a drowsy look on his face. The touch was enough to send bolts of electricity through his boyfriend.

“Mhm, that’s right. You’re so smart, honey.” Lucian giggled again, his shirt riding up his stomach a little as he stretched across Kai’s thighs. It was hard to avert his sharp golden eyes from tracing his gorgeous figure. Once he caught himself staring, he sheepishly looked away — It wouldn’t be good to let his eyes linger for any longer anyhow. [Even if Lucian didn’t mind it.] “You’re the best boyfriend in the whole universe. Y’know how big the universe is?”

Kai shook his head.

“Gimmie your hands,” Lucian demanded, still visibly exhausted despite his vivid consciousness. Without a shred of hesitation, Kai obeyed his orders and placed his fists onto his warm palms. His porcelain skin was surprisingly soft. “Now watch. Pretend your hands are the planets and my hands are the universe they live in, okay?”

Separating their skin contact by gradually removing his palms from his hands, Lucian continued to spread his arms further and further apart until they were as far apart as he could manage. In disbelief, Kai blinked a few times and tried to comprehend the visual representation that he created.

“See? You get it?”

Kai blushed and nodded. He didn’t truly understand what he was trying to say, but what he did know was the fact he was trying to explain it to him the best he could. “…I love you more than even that, Lu.” Towering over his face, he swiftly shifted his head to align with Lucian’s.

Shifting his hands onto the back of Kai’s neck and entangling his fingers into his hair, he hummed in pleasure. “Really?” His sleepy voice cracked with emotion.

To show his devotion to those words, Kai enclosed the space between their lips in a heartbeat. Gentle with him as always, he supported his back and embraced him lovingly, leaving not a single unwanted touch upon him. Lucian melted into his arms almost instantaneously. It wasn’t until he pulled away to breathe that Kai pulled away. It wasn’t until he shifted his position that Kai shifted his position. It wasn’t until he spoke that Kai spoke.

Whispering into his ear, his voice collided against Kai’s eardrums like a beautiful melody. “You wanna give each other matching tattoos?”

“Huh?”

With his arms still wrapped around his shoulders and his thighs on either side of Kai’s legs, he leaned his head back and laughed to himself. Whatever he was thinking had to be good. Kai wished he could laugh for the same reason he was.

“Where do you want it?” Lucian asked, pulling his boyfriend's shirt off his shoulders to inspect the areas of placement that were available. “Right here, right here, orrrr…right here?” His fingertips land against the side of Kai’s neck with a flirtatious smirk displayed on his beautiful countenance. Kai couldn’t help but blush. Even though they’ve been dating for some time now, he couldn’t get used to how attractive Lucian’s facial features were.

Recpicating the same level of affection, Kai let his eyes purposefully linger on every attribute of his face that he found attractive. (Which were, well, all of them.) Once he was done staring at his lips for a good while, he allowed their eyes to interlock. “I dunno. Where do you wanna put it?”

He slid his fingers down his neck affectionately. “Riiiight here.”

When the final syllable popped off his tongue, he lowered his head and launched his teeth right into Kai’s neck. There wasn’t much blood at first; Actually, there was no blood at all until he finally warmed up enough to apply all the pressure he could in his jaw. And although it would sting like a bitch to any ordinary person, it hardly phased Kai. He giggled as he felt his boyfriend’s tongue working to clean the mess of red liquid up, rubbing his back so it wouldn’t become sore from the odd position. Lucian smiled against his pale skin as he finished up.

“See?” he bubbled, pulling away to reveal his blood-soaked teeth. Dabbing away the excess liquid on his lips with his sleeve, he continued on with his explanation. “Now all you gotta do is gimmie a matching one right here! Bite as hard as you can so it lasts forever!”

Kai’s eyebrows cocked upward from the mere suggestion. “I’m not gonna bite you as hard as I can, Lu.”

“Awh, why not?”

The answer was obvious but his face was tempting. So with a heavy sigh, Kai entertained this fantasy.

Lucian hadn’t realized he was shoved off Kai’s lap until his head cracked against the couch cushions. Disoriented, he let out a little whimper and resorted back to instinct, bracing for impact. When he peered upward, however, he saw the same old boyfriend who loved him. His tense muscles relaxed as he let out a soft laugh, embarrassed that he had been caught so off guard. Kai held his hands that were pinned above his head, sitting on his hips in order to adjust himself to reach his neck with no problem.

“Where do you want me to start? Your tummy? Your chest?” Kai sadistically sneered as he pulled out his ridged knife from his jacket, stroking the blade down his boyfriend’s tiny frame. “Ohh, I know what you want. You want me to slit your throat, huh? But I won’t be able to hear your pretty screams that way.”

Lucian couldn’t help but blush from his tone. He knew it better than anyone else. Butterflies fluttered around in his stomach from the thought, batting his eyelashes and grazing his tongue across his front teeth with a flirtatious smile. “That’s not what I want though…”

Lifting his freshly sharpened blade from his neck, Kai’s smirk peeled ear to ear. “Don’t gimmie that face, Lucian.”

The butterflies that infested his stomach bursted into fireworks of all shapes and colors when hearing his full name escape his lips. His face was bloodshot by the time he managed to get his words out. “What face? I’m not making a face.”

His airless laughter softened as Kai landed his fatal shot. Sinking his teeth deep into Lucian’s neck and savoring all the blood that gushed out, he returned the flirtatious remark. His tongue rubbed against the wound he created and delicately traced over the texture of his flesh, only for more blood to regenerate in seconds. Tears welled in the corners of Lucian’s eyes. Even though it felt like a mixture of heaven and hell at once, he made sure to voice his pleasure so that Kai understood he was doing a good job.

“It must taste good, huh?” he purred, stroking his raven-hair back to ensure it didn’t soak up any blood by accident. “I hope it does…”

Cradling Lucian’s waist, he didn’t say a word. His instincts begged him to move closer despite their bodies interlocking from the neck down. He knew better. Snuffing the feeling out like a little flame, he continued onward.

It was hard to pull away but when he did, his face was the color of the sun’s chromosphere. He wiped his mouth with the end of his shirt while admiring the damage he’d made on Lucian’s pretty skin. Every individual front tooth had managed to sink inside of him, leaving a sweet reddish-purple injury that bled profusely. It framed Lucian’s collarbones so well that he began to slip into the fantasy that it belonged there. Lucian was meant to carry the wound that bound them together.

Lucian was meant to be his.

“Your teeth feel good under my skin, sweetheart.” With shimmering eyes, Lucian planted both his index and middle finger in the gaping gash to presumably gather an approximate depth it had.

The pride Kai once inhibited completely melted into a puddle of humility. He covered his mouth sheepishly and giggled, taken aback by the sudden compliment. Lucian’s voice was in a perfect octave that rubbed him in all the right ways. “M-My teeth?”

One thing was certainly different about Kai’s teeth compared to an ordinary individual’s. Not only were they a perfect shade of white, straight as ever, and framed his handsome face well, but they also took the form of miniature daggers stuck in his gums. The most prominent feature of his mouth was his canine teeth. (Lucian’s favorite.) His canine teeth were sculpted beautifully along the rest of the row, sharp, dignified, and a bit unnaturally elongated. Maybe that’s why he could leave such harsh bites? Maybe that’s why Lucian struggled to fight back tears when he bit him? Either way, they must have been the source as to how he could land such a great blow. And the funny thing was, Lucian knew that wasn’t the hardest he could bite. He went easy on him.

“Mhm…” Lucian adoringly stroked his chest, his turquoise eyes inhabiting an unfamiliar glint within them. “It makes me wanna let you eat my insides.”

…Maybe that’s not what he really wanted. No matter how much he loved Kai and how safe he felt within his arms, there was no way he could withhold throughout the torture that he forced his victims to endure. Tearing their limbs off when they’re still alive and eating them in front of their face is one of the tactics Lucian wasn’t so fond of, so it did distort his view of saying what he did. Kai, on the other hand, was in his complete own world, blushing profusely from the thought of Lucian’s suggestion.

“I couldn’t do thaaaat…” he swooned, aligning his fingertips down his skinny frame. “I like the way your insides are now. All intact and pretty…”

“They’d look so much prettier in your mouth.”

“Keep pushing it like that. I dare you.”

“Hehe, pushing what? I’m not pushing anything. I’m just saying.”

And that’s how Lucian ended up biting off more than he could chew. His neck, shoulders, back, and chest had been utterly mutilated by the time Kai moved onto his final course — The thighs. But by then, Lucian was in a daze from the amount of blood he lost. His pajamas were stained red, his shirt unbuttoned and his pants lowered in order for Kai to finish his masterpiece. Silent tears drifted from the corners of his eyes from the sheer amount of bittersweet pain it caused him. But even through sniffling and wiping them away, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself from the pleasure he felt knowing Kai was the one doing it.

“Kai…” he murmured, his brain too foggy to form a coherent thought. “Last one, okay? Please…”

Figuring he was just sleepy, Kai peppered a few kisses on his delicate skin and interlocked their eyes spontaneously. A sly smile rose to his lips. “Only ‘cause you asked nicely.”

And with that, Kai made sure there wouldn’t be any misconceptions this year. Anyone that spared at glance at Lucian would know who he belonged to.

#101’s wpw #oc: lucian williams #lukai 🖤🤍

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