So Fucking Much - Tumblr Posts

You chose Green Creek for your first romance? Are you insane? It’s going to eat you alive!!!

oh it has been doing just that trust me. i've been putting off finishing wolfsong because it has wrecked my mind and ravaged my heart and i fear withdrawal. it's an absolute torment but just so fucking good

i got interested in reading gay romance and werewolves around the same time, and when searching found two in one: wolfsong.

ALSO- i had just gotten back into reading. it's like the second book i'm reading in the past few months, after years of not reading. aha.

plus it kinda played a big positive role in recent mental health stuff, but that's for another post if i do post my honest rant on how much i love this goddamn book. i want to but still feel kinda weird about being vulnerable online so idk.

tl;dr: pain but good.

It's 2003, and Allan Bravecog has a brilliant idea. He just needs to make it real.

It's Family Business!

A story about the Senior VP and his journey to fatherhood.

10k+ words from @madocactus

Illustrations by @cluniies

Custom HTML + CSS formatting

Sellbot HQ shenanigans

Read now on AO3

Henry,

Do you ever struggle with anhedonia?

Perhaps. I don't think I would truly classify for a diagnosis, but I do think I am of a more mild temprament in all things in life and thus tend to not experience things with the same intensity as others. I have a greater problem with inertia lately, though I think it has something to do with summer.

I've always felt like summer was a dreadful season. It's a time of goodbye, a time in which friends are lost, nostalgia and awaiting the slow decay of things.

gold rush | bangchan

“I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch, everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you.” Or, a lot of people love chan but he only loves you. He just wishes you could see that.

⇝ pairing: bangchan x f!reader ⇝ rating: 18+ (for the most part it’s pretty pg) ⇝ genre: childhood friends to lovers | angst | fluff | smut ⇝ word count: 10.6k :o ⇝ warnings: lots of pining, based off of gold rush by taylor swiftie, attempt to use metaphors, kinda angsty, also fluffy, chan is rlly popular, minor character death (not mentioned in detail), misunderstandings kinda? but they’re bearable, chan halfway confesses like three times, but you just don’t want to get your hopes up :(, changbin is kinda mean, self indulgent!!, romantic-ish smut (I tried), the smut is skippable it’s like a bonus part <3, blow jobs, pussy eating, kissing, unprotected sex (we know better), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, lovey dovey stuff, time jump, lmk if i’m missing anything

a/n: hi angels, <3 this is now my longest fic… I listened to evermore on wednesday and gold rush and tolerate it filled me with the most insane inspiration ever, so despite my four current wips i whipped this up and posted it in a day so if it shows… i’m so so sorry </3 I could’ve made this way better so let’s pretend I couldn’t have! I hope you like it! It’s way longer than I planned considering it was only supposed to be like 2k. I also added smut which I hadn’t planned on but I made it as soft as possible just to fit the overall vibe I was going for. I wrote this in like ??? 8 hours maybe?? and most of all this shit is self indulgent as fuck like… i’m so !???? i love chan

playlist: gold rush by taylor swift, tolerate it by taylor swift, sad beautiful tragic by taylor swift, she by harry styles (idk anywhere near enough good romantic songs to make a playlist and this is all i listened to as i wrote so… yea idk what’s up with me)

mlist | taglist | navi

When did you fall in love?

You think you could most likely tie it back to when Chan first came to town, brown curly hair falling over his eyes, a fuzzy orange sports headband on his head, and a permanent blush on his cheeks. Or, perhaps it was when he’d introduced himself to you, blond hair curling behind his ears as he stared you down, looking less youthful yet even more handsome. Or, maybe it was when he sat next to you in your freshman year of university, spreading his books along his desk, badgering you for one of your shiny pencils, and winking at you when class began.

Maybe it was after all of this. Maybe you still aren’t really in love, but the way your heart beats when he’s around, when he smooths his hands over your shoulders and tucks his head under your chin, makes you think that maybe you are.

It doesn’t matter though– and it never will. Everybody wants him. All you are is another face in the crowd, a friend to talk to when things get tough. You’re someone with whom his shoulder’s brush as he walks past– not someone who gets to feel the wonder of his embrace. The feel of his lips against your skin, the sweet words saved for his lover. That’s never been you.

The sun beams down on you, its rays glittering over the wooden benches of the park, reflecting off of streetlights and seeping in through the cracks of windows and doors. Your feet move leisurely along the street, and in your hand you cradle a warm latte. It’s the middle of September and occasionally sharp gusts of wind leave an air of frigidness over your skin. Your lashes flutter under the breeze, and despite the cold you’re content to saunter along campus. It’s still warm enough for you to leave your hands exposed without them falling victim to the biting chill of autumn, and it’s exactly what you need to distract your mind.

Each step you take allows the thoughts that have been plaguing you to fall away one by one until they are no more. You’re free to ignore them until you have to see Chan again in all his boyish charm and utter cluelessness. Your eyes shut momentarily as the image of him comes to the forefront of your mind, each crinkle in his eye as he smiles, his dimple, his laugh. It brings a familiar ache to your heart. One that can’t fall away with your steps nor with the frigid air. It is one that never leaves you no matter how much you beg or how much you wish. It's become a part of you, and of that you’re sure of.

What you’re not sure of is how to feel about all that your life has become. When you were younger you were no stranger to love– to watching the way your parents interacted as if their life was a simple romance film. You had never lived a loveless life, whether through platonic love or familial, you had felt it all your life. It was normal.

When you were younger you never thought you’d have the same type of love that your parents had. You’d witnessed all forms of love– the best kinds and the worst kinds– and didn’t think you’d get the chance to experience either one. You’d been on the receiving end of many emotions, the good and the bad, though your attraction to others since you knew what attraction was had always been shallow. A simple crush that made your heart flutter, but nothing that made you want to dance to an imaginary song in the dim glow of the kitchen at night. Nothing that made you think waking up to them everyday would be a blessing, and losing them would be a tragedy. For you, it was just like it was for everyone else. Nothing special like the love you’d always laid witness to. Nothing like the love people on your television would cry and cheer about, completely and irrevocably in love with whom they considered their other half.

When you were younger, you envied your parents. As wrong as it had always seemed, as horribly shallow as it had felt, their love constructed a jealousy in you, an insecurity, a flaw. For something you had been exposed to since being a mere infant, why was it so hard for you to feel? All you wanted back then was the love that made people stupidly happy. The feeling that made a comfortable ache form in their chests and an irreversible smile form on their cheeks.

Now, you think that you simply don’t deserve that love. You feel it, you understand it, yet it doesn’t feel as good as it should. It doesn't feel like theirs.

You’ve tried to reverse it, to become the shallow young girl you once were, but the ache in your chest remains through it all, and the complete devotion you feel towards your best friend is just agony every day it isn’t returned.

You’ve arrived at your dorm room, the grandiose building imposing as it towers over you, yet bringing with it a sense of comfort. You don’t miss out on any chance to revel in that feeling– constantly feeling as if a rug has been pulled from under you in every waking moment of the day. It’s tiring, and at any moment you feel like you’re ready to crumble under the weight of it all. Was love supposed to be so agonizing? So terribly heartbreaking? Was it right to tear you down this way?

Your keys jingle on the loop, and your Mary Janes click with every step along the lacquered wooden floors, the entire building spotless in its entirety and poshness oozing uncomfortably from its walls. Though with every step you took you became more and more at ease just happy that you’d be able to crash in your bed and pity yourself for the next few hours.

That was all your life consisted of now, after all.

You jogged up the stairs, your legs burning with effort and your movements restrained from your long pencil skirt. A blazer was buttoned deftly over your chest and black tights made it so that barely any skin was exposed. Not that it mattered, anyway. You’re a grown woman free to do whatever you please, and if that includes getting sick in the late autumn weather then so be it.

Upon arrival at your dorm room your shoulders sagged in visible relief. The door couldn’t unlock quick enough as you shuffled your way inside, dropping your purse to the side and setting your empty coffee cup on the kitchen island. You knocked your head back, looking up at the ceiling through bleary eyes and a tired frown. Your feet ached in your shoes and you wanted to spread your legs wide without feeling like you were wearing an exercise band.

You plopped down on your couch, unstrapping and kicking off your confining shoes and curling your feet into the couch. You relaxed into the chair, letting the misery and affliction of the day seep into the fabric. Your eyes closed of their own accord, and a content sigh left your lips in bliss. This was your comfort after a long day. Sitting alone to your own thoughts— or rather with no thoughts, allowing the silence to envelop you and comfort you with an imaginary hand on your back. It was this that made every day worth working through— the knowledge that you’d be able to curl up at the end of the day and relax your muscles just to do it all over again the next day.

Ever since you were a child being alone was a comfort you always sought out. Being left to your own devices was the best thing your parents could have ever done for you, and it was when you were able to fully relax. Reading, writing, drawing— the silence of your bedroom was a safe haven for your turbulent mind. Always running, never stopping to give you a break or catch your breath. Your thoughts ran rampant ever since you could remember, tormenting you and making your life an aching bout of anxiety. Silence was something that should’ve made it worse, but it was when you could fall into your daydreams and pretend your life wasn’t your own.

Sleep pulls you under, insistent as it forces your eyelids down.

Chan has always been a stranger to love, and that’s why he’s always done his best to give as much as he could. Since he was a young boy he had never known his father, had never known what it was like to play in the backyard with him or watch basketball games. He never knew what it would be like to hang out with his own dad, sharing secret handshakes and joking around with his mom. He didn’t know what it would be like to feel fatherly love, to feel the embrace of who should’ve been one of the most important people in his life.

Since he was a young boy it’s just been him and his mother, in their downtrodden family home, barely standing no matter how hard his mother worked to support them both. His mother had shared as much love as she could, fighting through the bitterness Chan’s father had left her with and pushing herself harder to provide for them both without any help. She had tried her hardest since Chan was a child until he was a senior in high school, constantly making sure he was provided for and well taken care of. This love should’ve been enough, but for a long time it wasn’t.

Chan had never known what it was like to love someone completely and irrevocably, wanting to shout from the rooftops his devotion to another. He had never seen his parents love each other, had never met either of his grandparents, and had no aunts or uncles or cousins in his life or who cared about him enough to even pretend they wanted something to do with him. In elementary school he was ridiculed, fatherless and pitiful. He didn’t live in a house as nice as the other kids, he didn’t have a complete and happy family like the other kids, or the same amount of money, or the same amount of privilege. To them, he was nothing.

In middle school it was much worse. By that time Chan had been no stranger to bullying. He had struggled through it during elementary school, had been tormented by his peers since before he was a teenager, and didn’t let the words affect him no matter how much harsher they became. To him, his oppressors were the pitiful ones. They were the ones who had not experienced enough love, and no matter how much he lacked he would always hold enough love in his heart for others— so that they didn’t have to feel as worthless as he did.

Chan knew from early how hard-working his mother had been. He knew she tried her best, that she worked herself to the bone just to make him happy. How much she wanted her love to be enough— and maybe it would’ve been had he not had to experience all that he did. He knew, and that’s why he had never voiced his feelings to her at all throughout elementary school and middle school, and why by the time high school came around he was an expert at masking the pain in his heart with a smile on his face.

When Chan’s mother told him they were moving it felt like a weight had been lifted. Leaving all the pain of his past felt like the beginning he needed, the start he wanted to finally be happy. To finally let his mother’s love be enough.

By the time Chan turned seventeen, his smile was the brightest it had ever been. He didn’t know how good it felt to be admired, to be held in high regard, to love and be loved back. It felt good. He never wanted to let that go, and if it was up to him he never would.

Before Chan made it to college his mother fell ill. Chan willed the love in his heart to be enough, hoped that his prayers and wishes would bring his mother back to him. That the love she had always given him would strengthen her and allow her to live as happily and carefree as she deserved. Chan had a plan, he would be the one to take care of her this time around. He was 18, had his own car and his own job. He was going to college to start his career so he could be there for her in return. So she could be taken care of like she deserved. He begged for his love to be enough, but sometimes it simply isn’t. And when the casket closed on the worst day of Chan’s life, he realized that to be true.

Chan rushes out the cafe, umbrella in hand, giggling to himself as he runs across campus— two coffee cups in hand as he goes. Bystanders watch him warily as he runs, wondering if he’ll drop one of the items he’s carrying or wondering if he’s alright, but Chan doesn’t notice and if he does, he doesn’t care enough to stop. His feet splash in puddles, carrying him to your dorm room as swiftly as possible. He’s careful not to slip on the wet pavement and tightens his grip on your drink to make sure it doesn’t spill.

The building is still the same imposing grandiose thing that it always has been, but to him it’s nothing but slabs of cement between piles of brick. He pays no mind to the water that drops down his umbrella over the once pristine wooden floor, simply running up the stairs and to your room. You should be awake by now, he decides, all too familiar with your daily naps after class and after work. His cap hangs low over his eyes so no one recognizes him as he shuffles through the halls.

He knocks rapidly on your door and only stops when he hears your groan through the drywall. His giggles float from his lips freely and unfiltered, and he’s filled with unadulterated joy just at the simple thought of seeing you. His heart thuds in his chest and he hopes he’s early enough to see your face puffy from sleep, hair mussed and clothes wrinkled as if he had finally gotten the chance to wake up next to you.

When the door opens he grins, dimple on full display as you sigh, grabbing a cup from his hands and moving to the side to let him in.

“How was your day?”

“Same as usual— hey!” You place the cup on the table next to your empty one from earlier and move his umbrella outside the door, sending him a glare as you shut it behind you. “Not on my floors,” you huff as he ruffles your hair in response.

“I missed you,” Chan hums, bringing his cup to his lips. “How was class?”

“I missed you too. Class was fine, just tiring Channie.”

A smile flits upon your lips as you cross your legs on the couch, turning towards your best friend’s form sprawled opposite you. “How was the interview?”

Chan smiles, rubbing at his neck in mock modesty. “It went great, honestly. They said they’d call me, tell me what the next steps are and all that shit.” He turns to you, smile blindingly bright. “Fuck, I’m so happy.”

The happiness on his face is palpable in the air between you as you lean forward and bring him into a hug. His cologne sticks to your skin and you bury your nose deeper into his jacket just to feel a little closer to him. “That’s great,” you beam, “If anyone could do it, it’s you.”

His arms encircle you and his lips brush against your cheek. His fuzzy sweater rubs along your bare skin, leaning a trail of warmth in its wake. Chan’s hands run up and down your back and he chuckles. “I know, I can always count on you.”

“Count on me?” you repeated, curling closer in Chan’s embrace as he grinned.

“To be there for me, to trust in me, to support me. You’re always there for me.”

“And you’ll be there for me too.”

“And I'll be here for you too,” Chan whispers, his voice much quieter than it had previously been. He noses into the top of your head, tickling his skin with your hair.

Your breath is silent to match the sudden silence in the room. Chan is still, his nose still pressed into your hair but his hand rests against your back and he leans into you, still holding his weight but allowing himself to relax a bit more in your embrace. You shuffle closer, digging your chin into his shoulder as lightly as possible so that it doesn’t hurt him, and squeeze at his sides.

You know how hard it is for him having lacked a stable support system in one of the most stressful times of his life, and you’re just glad you could be that for him. You allow his cologne to relax you as the silence becomes heavier, enveloping you in its embrace. You let yourself think about things you shouldn’t, allow yourself to wonder if you’d be able to leave a soft kiss against his skin. If he would leave a kiss against yours, trailing fingers across each other and whispering sweet words to one another, simply lounging in each other’s presence. You let yourself think about what would happen next. Would he hold you close? Pull you into his lap? Tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and lean in slowly to kiss you?

“I wish I could tell you what you are to me.”

Chan’s voice almost makes you jolt, so wrapped up in the previous silence that it takes you a moment to recognize he’s spoken. His words bring a frown to your face— one of confusion and one of false hope. You know that no matter how much you want to, you can’t wish for feelings. His hair is soft to the touch as you run your fingers through it, curling tendrils behind his ear and ghosting over his skin as if he was yours.

“I wish you could too.”

When did you fall in love?

Maybe it was when Chan would run his hands along your skin as if you belonged to him. Touching you with such a gentle caress that it was painful to your fragile heart, treating you with such tender care that it was almost unbearable. Yet like a drug you were addicted. To his attention, to his words, to his love. As platonic as it was, it still felt like something to treasure and hold close. It was all you could get and probably all you ever would. Or, perhaps it was when he would take your hand in his, dragging you to a new secret spot and setting up a picnic.

He’d lay out a large blanket, ground it with books and shoes, and then lay out all the food he cooked. Preserved in tupperware he’d make a show of having you try each one, watching with bated breath as you put a contemplative look on your face with every spoonful of food and only relaxing when you’d break character and assure him that his food was the best thing you’d ever tasted, and it was true. It was his and that’s what made it perfect to you.

Or, maybe it was when he’d come to your dorm room every night, right when you’d wake up from your nap, bringing a latte or a snack and lounging on your couch catching each other up on your days, on what’s been happening in the week, and later curling up and falling asleep to a movie. He’d grab ahold of your hand and thread your fingers together— never noticing the hitch in your breath but holding you close to him all the same.

He’d run a hand along your waist, let it slip under your shirt and ghost his fingers across your skin when you hugged. It was all earth-shattering, yet things that were so normal. You couldn’t allow yourself to think of it as anything more than it was.

“So I take it you’re never gonna confess.”

“Confess?” You question, bringing your croissant to your mouth and taking a bite.

Hyunjin sighs, bringing a hand to his hair in order to run through it. “Confess that you have feelings for Chan.” He grumbles, bringing his americano to his lips and looking at you through long eyelashes.

“Be serious, Hyunjin. Absolutely not.” You hiss, leaning forward against the table and settling him with a glare before returning to your croissant. “He practically has an entire entourage. The last person he wants is me when he can have literally anyone.”

“Y/n, are you an idiot? If you had even half the awareness the rest of us have you’d see the way he looks at you. The way he touches you? It’s practically like you two are dating already.”

“But we’re not.”

“But you could be.”

“Hyunjin—”

“I don’t get the big deal? I mean it’s just so obvious-”

“Hyunjin!? The big deal is that I could lose my best friend. It’s really not worth it.”

The eye roll Hyunjin sends your way is borderline petrifying, but you’re adamant in your refusal. You straighten up, swallowing the last bit of your croissant before staring at him with stubborn determination.

“Have you seen any romance movie ever? They always say that and then they end up together because, shocker, they both liked each other the entire time. Don’t be a typical mc.”

“Real life is not a movie,” you scoff, “You can’t possibly expect me to base my reasoning off that?”

“I do expect. You should listen to me. As someone with an outside view and who doesn’t have this fear of rejection I can observe you both very well and you obviously like each other. Just rip the bandaid off and move on.”

“Rip the bandaid off?? Really? Is that the best you’ve got? Not very comforting is it?”

Hyunjin sighs, grabbing your hand from across the table. His hand is large, warm, and you can’t help but be comforted when it envelops you.

“Just trust me.”

Against your wishes Hyunjin’s words stick with you for the rest of the day. It’s not the first time you’d considered confessing, finally letting the feelings that have been building up since high school free— wondering if getting all of it off your chest would make you feel better. But then again, you’d just be like everyone else who’s ever confessed to chan. Begging for him to love them back, face in a red flush, wondering what it would be like to love him.

Day by day the air gets colder, blowing against you so harshly it feels like needles prick your skin. The sky is a deep blue, only covered by a few wispy clouds. Around you couples and friends walk through town together, hand in hand, leaning on each other, hands running over each other’s waists. Happily in love.

You look down at the ground with a sad smile, quivering with each step you take, and this time the silence doesn’t allow your thoughts to disappear— it just lets them come knocking even harder. It happens sometimes, when no matter what you do you can’t escape them.

Against your better judgement you hope Chan is at your dorm. He slept over after a movie night, face pressed against the couch and bangs covering his eyes. you watched him for longer than you’d have liked, but you revel in any opportunity to imagine you both are more than you really are. You know it’s all in your head, you know you’ve got everything wrong, you know it’s just hurting yourself more— but when it comes to Chan you find that it doesn’t matter.

The walk to your dorm is slow, with you stopping to look at everything you could. Staring at worn down buildings, waving at cute dogs, and smiling at people as you walked past. Attempting to immerse yourself in the world around you and stop feeling like a passing viewer— to make it so that it felt like people saw you, and you weren’t just there.

You’d left your dorm room early this morning, meeting up with Hyunjin due to plans you’d both made the week prior. You always enjoyed talking to Hyunjin. He knew what was important in life, was strong-willed and attentive. He gave you the best advice, even if sometimes you didn’t follow it. Besides Chan he was probably one of your closest friends, as well as a boy named Lee Felix and your dorm mate. It’s been a while since you’ve seen them both, and it makes you a little sad. You feel like you lose grip over the people that’s important to you, and that after a while they’ll have no problem leaving you behind.

You heave a deep sigh to get the thoughts out your mind, wishing the September sun was a little brighter so it could lift your spirits. Your latte is still warm in your hand, and you tap your nails against it as you trudge up the road leading back to campus. Hyunjin had other business in the city so you two went your separate ways after breakfast. It was still early, unfortunately, and you had no idea how you’d spend the rest of your day. It was too cold to do anything really fun, and most of your friends had classes today anyway.

It was obvious when you’d arrived back on campus. If the intricate buildings weren’t enough, the perfectly paved pathways and neatly trimmed hedges were. People carried books with them as they walked, wearing big jackets and hats. It was really getting colder, and it almost saddened you. Another year coming to a close and you were still stuck with the same problems and the same feelings. You waved at people as you passed, recognizing a few familiar faces along the way. Attention fueled you, made you feel that maybe you were more in this world than you thought you were. That maybe things could be different, that you and Chan could walk side by side and all those people that usually follow behind him could follow behind you too.

Heat punches you in the face as soon as you step inside your housing, your feet clicking against the hardwood floors in something that’s become a comfortable routine. Your jacket now feels like it’s too warm, sticking to you and trapping heat inside. You rush up the stairs, by passing the elevator that’s been out of order for weeks now, and hurriedly shove your key in the lock on your door.

When you come in Chan isn’t there, but he could be in any of the other rooms of your dorm. You don’t call out for him, not sure if you want to hear the silence that might come as a reply. You kick your shoes off and hang your jacket on the door, unwrapping your scarf and tossing it on the couch on your way to your bedroom. The door is cracked open and the light is on, and the view brings a smile to your face without your control. You open the door wider and peek in. Chan is sitting on your bed, feet propped up in front of him, book in hand. Chan has always loved to read since the day you first met him in Junior year of high school. You thought that like a typical boy if he was reading at all it’d be a comic, or an action series, but it was a romance. At first it was anything he could get his hands on. He’d read pride and prejudice three times, and then decided to spend all his free time in the library. You always joined him, of course, happy to have a friend who liked the same things as you.

When you gifted him a large set of romance books for his birthday that year you were sure he’d kiss you. He stared at you like he would, before smiling and bringing you close into a hug. He still has every book, and it makes your heart flutter in silly ways. Right now, he’s holding a book out in front of him, reading glasses perched on his nose and a cup of tea on his nightstand. He’s really a sight for sore eyes, lips pursed in frustration or concentration you’re not sure. When reading it could be either. He flips the pages deftly, running over each line with the intention to devour every word, to soak it in with everything he could.

He’s so immersed you’re sure if you spoke he wouldn’t even hear, and if he did he’d only answer when he was done reading the page. You two were the same in that sense. You stepped into the room fully and closed the door behind you, dropping your latte and the coffee you got for Chan on the nightstand next to his tea and then laid flat on your bed with a sigh. Your arms sprawled out beside you, and your chest raised with every breath.

You turned your head to the side to look at Chan and couldn’t help the flush that warmed your cheeks when you met his eyes, him already staring down at you with a fond smile on his face.

“Hi.” You whispered, rolling onto your side to look at him more comfortably.

“Hi,” he murmured, closing his book and pushing it to the side. He rolled onto his side to look at you, moving himself even closer before running a hand down your hair and cradling your neck, running a slow finger across your skin.

“How was your day?”

“I read myself into oblivion while waiting here like a poor housewife for my dear best friend to come back.”

“House husband,” You correct, “And I went to the cafe with Hyun,” you whined, “don’t tease me.”

“I’m serious,” Chan laughed, moving his finger from your neck to slip it under the hem of your shirt and lightly tug it. “I was so lonely and I didn’t call ‘cus I know how much you like hanging out with him.”

You giggle, sitting up and facing him. “Oh yeah? I like hanging with you too, you know.”

“I know. I’d rather argue with you than laugh with anyone else.”

“So what does that say about you?” You scoff, laying back down beside him and trying to ignore the fact that you both have gotten even closer, and each breath that leaves his lips lingers against your skin. You see his lashes flutter under your gaze, yet he doesn’t stop staring intensely at your face.

“That I love you.”

It comes as a whisper, like a confession. But you can’t get your hopes up. You won’t. You pray for some miracle that Chan didn’t hear the hitch in your breath, or the fact that you noticeably flinched at his words, your lashes fluttering closed under his gaze. Your heart beats erratically, thumping against your chest and pounding harshly against your rib cage. If chan moved closer, if he pressed his body fully to yours, you wonder if his heartbeat would match your own.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

Chan holds his phone tightly, a frown etched onto his face. The group chat is blowing up and he can’t stop

for a moment to read any of the messages. He weaves between groups of people, waving at most of them as he goes. A lot of people know him, a lot of people admire him. He helps out as many people as he can and makes friends with most, just trying to be a pillar for others— someone other people can look up to and lean on when they need to. That’s something that he’s always wanted to be, who he felt like he needed to be since a young age.

He remembered what you’d had to say about it during your second year and his third, your books spilled over the desk in your bedroom. You had dark circles under your eyes, and you were getting thinner, yet you still managed to smile at him so brightly. As if he was someone that deserved to see such beauty, such love in your gaze.

“So that's the face someone makes when they know everyone’s obsessed with them, huh?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Chan, it’s good, you deserve to be loved.”

Just not in the way he’d like, Chan guesses, frowning at the memory. He still remembers how much it bothered him that he couldn’t do anything more but bring you company during one of your hardest years in college, just having to watch as you worked yourself to the bone. He would’ve taken all your exams if he could, but you would’ve never let him, too content in neglecting yourself rather than letting your friends do the same.

The sun is practically nonexistent this afternoon, hiding behind heavy clouds. It's been raining for the last few days, coating the city in a bleak atmosphere that heavily resonates with him. It almost feels like the lower his mood becomes the dimmer everything around him does too. Sighing, Chan turns around to face the large, grandiose building that’s become the meetup spot for him and his friends.

He skips up the steps, and pushes open the door to the studio, feeling good at the wave of heat that brushes over him. He goes there enough to bypass having to sign in, simply sending a nod the receptionists way and walking to the elevator. Judging by the state of the group chat, Changbin and Jisung are already there. Jeongin might be too, but he knows the younger one is busy with his own workload. It sucks to never have time to see each other anymore, and even though the school year just started he’s hoping to see the end of it sooner rather than later.

When he pushes open the soundproof doors and ambles into the studio, Jisung is on his back in a matter of seconds. As jumpy as ever and unnaturally excitable, he latches on to Chan already asking a million questions. Changbin just laughs where he’s seated in front of the soundboard, messing with the dials and settings until they’re at a level he’s comfortable with.

Chan drops his bag down before plopping onto one of the padded seats in the studio and Jisung wastes no time sitting next to him. Though when he finally stops his chattering a frown etches into his face.

“What’s wrong?” Jisung asks, a hand coming to Chan’s shoulder and squeezing lightly, attempting to bring a warmth of comfort.

“Nothing,” Chan laughs, shaking his head.

Changbin has come closer now, either finished with the setup or wondering what’s going on.

“I swear! I’m just having a long day, that’s all.”

“Is it what I think it is?”

“Well what do you think it is?” Chan tenses, eyebrow raised at Changbin where the latter stares down at him.

“Is it this shit with Y/n again?”

“I’m sorry, what? It’s not anything, exactly like I said.”

“We already know when you come in here pouty and upset it’s because of her. Dude, I think you just need to let it go.”

Chan sputters, his eyebrows furrowing more in confusion than anger. “Let what go?”

“These feelings? It’s just hurting you more than helping and maybe you need to realize that this thing between you two isn’t meant to be.”

“Bin-”

“Please, Sung, you’ve said the same thing yourself.”

“What!? So you two have just been talking about me like-”

“No, that’s not it. We’re just worried and it’s translating poorly.”

“You don’t need to be worried, and like I said it’s nothing, so leave it alone.”

“Whatever, man.”

Chan grabs his bag where he's set it down and wraps his jacket around him once again. He hears Jisung call out to him but he can’t work there, not with the hostile energy that’s bouncing around in that studio. The door slams shut behind him and he doesn’t even bother looking back. He bypasses the elevator, instead running down the steps and rushing outside, welcoming the chill of the afternoon air. It cools his heated skin and his angered heart, and gives him the strength to leave the area and walk back where he came.

He sees people he knows on the way but he pretends he doesn’t, not in much of a mood to pretend to be happy to see everyone he meets. His mind is a tornado of thoughts, and his feet move quicker than his mind. When he sees your dorm up ahead he scoffs at himself, at his stupidity, at his dependence on you. He continues anyway, running up the stairs and turning his key into the lock. You’re breaking so many rules for him, allowing him so much freedom in your life, and it just makes the spot he’s carved in his heart for you to deepen.

His mind is frazzled as well as his hair. His chest heaves in frustration. At himself, at his choices, at everything. It seems so difficult for everything to go the way he wants, as if the world makes it so that everything he wants to go his way simply doesn’t. His key is still in the door. He hasn’t pushed it open. He wants to pretend this act he’s got going on isn’t hurting him, pretend that acting like you’re only a friend to him isn’t something that carves pieces in his heart at every moment. His hand trembles at his side, wishing he had yours to hold. Wishing he had your skin to run over and calm him.

He doesn’t know when you’ve become such a comfort to him. Maybe it was when you’d smiled at him for the first time. When you offered him a seat at your lunch table and shared what you didn’t want with him when he asked. Or, perhaps it was when you’d accompany him to the library everyday after school, sitting next to each other and reading whatever books you both could get your hands on. Or, maybe it was when you’d spent your savings from your summer job on a stack of books for his birthday, and it was the first time someone besides his mom had ever gotten him a birthday gift.

Or maybe it happened after all that. When he’d cried in front of you for the first time and you just held him tightly, refusing to let go. Or, perhaps it was when you’d come to his mothers funeral. A sad one, it was, with only four people in attendance. Chan couldn’t afford a casket, couldn’t afford to have a church with a pastor. He didn’t have anything, but he had you holding his hand, rubbing his back as he cried at the loss of all he had left.

Chan didn’t know back then that he’d gained something too.

Let it go? He can’t let it go, because you’re a part of him now too and losing you, losing his love for you, would be like losing a part of himself. Chan pushes the door open, content in how much he’s relaxed in the moments before the door. You’re standing in front of the door when he opens it, a mug in hand and a smile on your face.

“You look like you could use a hug.”

“Yeah,” Chan chokes, wrapping his arms around you and cradling your head close to his chest. You slide the mug onto the table beside you so you can pull him even closer, gripping his shirt tightly and positioning yourself so that Chan can lean his head into your neck. His body trembles with the tears that were begging to be let out as he asks in your warmth.

“You know I love you, right? I- I love you so much it hurts me.”

Your eyebrows furrow at his words, whimpered and muffled as they’re spoken against your skin. “What’s wrong, Channie? Talk to me.”

Chan shakes his head, knocking against your chin. “I can’t. I can't.”

“Yes you can. You can tell me anything.”

“I want a lot of things that I shouldn’t.” Chan whispers, bringing a palm to smooth over your hair. “I think about a lot of things I shouldn’t. Wondering if I could have it.”

“Chan…?”

“You are one of those things.”

You don’t realize you’ve stopped breathing until you let out a long exhale, your face screwing up with unshed tears as Chan starts to sway your body against his. His palm continues to run along your hair as if it’s anchoring him, giving him the courage to continue.

“For years, I’ve wondered what it would be like to hold you as more than a friend.”

Chan digs his face deeper in the crook of your neck, pressing his nose into your skin, and letting his tears wet your sleeve. His eyes flutter shut and his grip on you tightens. He didn’t plan on confessing to you tonight. He didn’t plan on cradling you close to his chest, feeling your breath against his skin as he poured his heart out, letting you into the one part of his soul he’s shown no one. It’s fitting, he thinks, for you to be the first to know. He’s peeling himself bare, letting you see the pieces of him he’s worked so hard to hide. The parts of him that he’s held so close to his heart, unraveled with a few simple words.

“Everytime I said I love you, I meant it. I meant it with more of me than anyone has ever seen. I’ve meant it with every fiber of my being, and you have a place in my heart no one else could ever have.” Chan releases a shaky breath, chuckling lightly before he continues.

“You’re already the most important person in my life, and I can’t imagine life without you. I wish I could tell you what you are to me.”

Your vision is blurred by tears, and your hands tremble where they grip Chan's shirt. He's so broad, covering you with all of him. He’s all around you, suffocating you with his words and himself. Your lip wobbles, but you muster up all the courage you don’t have, the strength you wish you held, to open up your heart in return.

“I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch, everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you,” you start, your words muffled and your breath jagged.

Chan is quiet, his heart beating faster than what should be humanly possible.

“When I'm near you, in this space, the pause between this breath and the next, you’ve carved a piece of yourself in my heart.”

“…”

“And I’m not afraid to love you— only afraid that my love won’t be enough. If I know what love is, it’s because of you.”

Chan strokes a thumb against your cheek, moving from your neck to lean his forehead down against yours.

“So please love me. As more than a friend, because it’s unbearable to hold you and look at you without being able to call you mine.”

“I’m yours,” Chan murmurs, “for as long as you want me.”

“So forever?” You laugh, but it doesn’t sound much like a laugh, wet and nasally from your tears.

“I really want to kiss you,” Chan whispers, hooking a finger under your chin and pulling you close. His nose brushes against yours and your breaths intermingle, mending with each other.

“Please.”

Your breath is labored as Chan’s lips ghost over yours. His shirt is soft under your fingers and his hand is strong where he grips your waist. Your lips brush, and you realize that this is it, the moment you’ve been wishing for, begging for, since you met him. Since you realized you were in love with him. With his silliness, with his laugh, his smile, his care. Since you realized his genuinity, how determined he was and is to take care of the people around him.

It’s tentative— gentle and soft— but not hesitant. You’re sure of what you want, and what you want is Chan. Your best friend. Your lips move slowly at first, exploring each other, before they press closer, lapping over each other and locking you both against one another. Your body buzzes with warmth, and you wrap your arms around Chan's neck— pulling him impossibly closer as he smiles.

You feel so warm, so happy, the kiss becomes less of a kiss and more of your teeth hitting each other from the force of your smiles. Tears still drip steadily from your cheeks but this time from happiness.

“I like kissing you,” Chan giggles when you both break apart for air, sighing against your skin and leaving goosebumps in his wake.

You leave a kiss full of relief on his lips, salty and wet, moving your mouth against his as he returns it. Slowly, your lips start to press against each other more eagerly, lapping over each other and filling you with warmth.

You find that you’ve fallen.

Truly, madly, and completely.

Fallen for a man that treats you like you’re his saving grace.

For a man who holds you like you’ll disappear without his hands on you.

For a man who’s simple confession made your heart stop momentarily.

You’re in love, and as much as it had been a part of you for all these years, you’re finally letting yourself admit it.

And he, you.

It’s been a few weeks since then, and you’ve been thinking. Every time his lips brush over your skin, when he pulls you up into his lap and kisses you breathless, when he digs his fingers into your hips content to leave marks that last for the next few days, you think about why he stops. You think about why he doesn’t touch you more. After all, now you both finally can.

Chan sits on the couch, your legs swung over his own, and a romance movie plays quietly in the background. You brush his hair from over his forehead, and your nails gently scrape along his skin. Chan hums, the vibrations traveling through your shirt and into your skin.

You feel the happiest you’ve ever been. You feel like maybe this could be what your parents have always had. A love that sticks forever. You want Chan to be your person. You’re so sure that he is.

“Are you tired?” You question, leaning down to get a look at his face. “We can sleep.”

“No, I’m not.” Chan smiles, grabbing your free hand and tugging it close to his face, leaving a kiss on each of your knuckles. His touch lingers against your skin and warmth blooms inside you. He leans forward, leaving a sweet peck on your lips but you lean in, pressing insistently against him. He lets you, opening his mouth and swiping his tongue across your lips.

He runs his thumb across your cheek, gently caressing your skin and everywhere he touches you, it feels like your body is in flames. This something has been building up inside you and now you're not sure how long you'll be able to control yourself. “I trust you, so please.” You plead, nosing against him. His lips feel so soft, so fitting on your mouth, you let out a whimper when he goes further than just a gentle kiss, taking your bottom lip between his properly.

Chan hadn’t even thought about properly responding to you before he was flipping you over, caging you under him and grinding his hips against yours. Your fingers trailed down his skin, running over the fabric of his clothes before tucking inside the waistband of his sweatpants and sliding them down his hips. Chan was gentle. Always gentle. He pulled your shorts down slowly and you sent a nod his way when he asked you if you were sure.

He nosed against your stomach, trailing his fingers against your bare legs and pulling your underwear down with his teeth. A shiver runs through you at the sight, and you grab at his shoulders in an attempt to ground yourself. “You’re so gorgeous.” He sighed, as if he couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that you were his, that he was yours.

His mouth moves along the sensitive parts of your neck, down the line of your throat, while his other hand separates from your own to run down your waist and touch you where he knows you shiver with need.

He slips his leg between your parted ones, allowing you to settle down right on top of his muscular thigh. As the kiss grows deeper, your hips begin to move, gyrating and pressing down against him. As your bodies move with one another, your pleasure continues to rise, forming from your center and spreading over your body.

You desperately try to avoid bucking your hips upwards into him, but fail again and again. Eventually, Chan drags his mouth away, trailing it down your neck. You’re gasping against him, and you curl into his touch, whimpering when sharp teeth nip at you. There’s a tongue soothing the wound, sucking at the same spot, lapping over it. You can feel yourself starting to shake, whimpering more often than not, before you’re dragging Chan’s face back up into a kiss rt. You can feel Chan smiling into it, chuckling just the tiniest bit, but resume kissing him.

He holds his gaze on yours when you fall apart, relaxing your body while the pulsing of your orgasm courses through you. He leans down into your arms right after, pressing tightly against your chest, so tight that you could feel his heartbeat pacing fast against yours. The kisses he gives you are soft and gentle, your thighs still trembling when he pulls away, pulling his grey t-shirt over his head.

The unmistakable shape of his erection that you feel brushing against your stomach lets you know just how turned on he is, and you equally so. His lips return to yours only after he has stripped himself, and your hands move from his shoulders to his chest, trailing down his naked skin, where you slide your fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

You lean forward, taking him into your hand. He’s heavy, full of cum, and you slide your body down so that your mouth is right against his cock. You leave a kitten lick on the underside of his shaft, feeling the veins and the way Chan throbs. He’s a pleasant weight on your tongue and you swirl it around the tip before sucking him into your mouth.

Still with your eyes on his face, you lean closer, kissing his sensitive tip before fitting your lips around the head, taking him into your mouth again. You hear him gasp before it turns into a deep groan, sucking and licking as you take him deeper.

Chan sighs, every time you inch down onto him you can feel his skin against your nose and hear the spit fucking back in your throat. Your eyes lose focus as Chan continues to rut into you, and your body buzzes from the sensation. You feel hot all over, allowing him to use you the way he wants. His low growl vibrates down to your core and you resist the urge to reach down and stroke your fingers to search for your own pleasure, choosing to focus on pleasing him instead.

His lips fall open with a few deep grunts escaping his soft lips, his hips moving faster as he pumps himself into your mouth. “Fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum.”

"You are so beautiful," he sighs, his thumb brushes back and forth over your cheek, relishing the way your body leans into his touch. "You have no idea how many times I wished I could take you like this."

He traces down your panties, soaked with your arousal, running over the lace and moaning at the feeling of it clinging into your clit. His thumb follows the wet trail on the flimsy fabric to find your opening, hardly shielding you from his touch. He twists his hand while he continues to press his thumb in circles over your covered entrance, his fingers find your clit, and then he pinches, hard, sending you over the edge a second time and into one of the most intense orgasms you've ever had.

You squirm at the feeling of your release, his fingers slowly peeling the scrap of black lace down your thighs, making a show out of it while he makes you wait. He continues to tease you, staring you down as you slip your feet from them and he pulls them off. His eyes roam over your body, inhaling deeply, breathing you in. His lashes flutter, and the view of him taking you in so shamelessly makes you shudder.

He drops the fabric in the next moment, looming over you with hooded eyes, and leans down to leave a lingering kiss on your lips. He continues to kiss you as he spreads your legs apart, holding them down with heavy hands. His lips find your hips, then he moves down, running his tongue down your legs, taking time to trail along your thighs, your calves, your ankles, and keeping his eyes on you the whole time.

You let out a gasp at the first stroke of his tongue over your clit. Your legs lift a little, but Chan presses them back down, keeping you in place— keeping you right where he wants you.

You run a shaky hand through his hair as you cry out at the feeling of his tongue resuming its ministrations on your throbbing core. You can’t do much but moan and sigh, an incoherent mess from Chan’s mouth. It’s funny to you, how you started this but he has you shaking from under him, building you up and then breaking you down with immense pleasure— a feeling that you can barely think around.

You hear his soft chuckle as he gives you a few more kisses with his tongue, tasting you, before he looks up again and whispers, “Does that feel good?” He teases, unrelenting in showing you just how determined he is to make good of his words. His grip tightens on your thighs, as the swipes of his tongue grow more intensely. He sucks at your clit, pressing his tongue against you to send you into your second orgasm.

Your hips move desperately against his face, hopeless in your need for more. Chasing pleasure with each roll of your hips and his head buried in your heat. You spasm, shaking in pleasure as you cum, soaking his tongue with your release and closing him in with your thighs. He doesn’t stop, sucking your clit in his mouth and using his tongue to lap up every bit of your orgasm. You cry out in protest, your body squirming away from his touch as instinct but the grip on your thighs doesn’t let up.

“Chan please, oh god.”

His chest shakes with a chuckle, rising up and slotting himself between your thighs. You want him, more than anything, no matter what. He kisses the corner of your lips, smiling against your mouth. “I love you,” he sighs, and a smile crosses your face.

“I love you too.”

As he continues to litter kisses against your skin, he presses his cock against your clit, rubbing his hard length against you, coating himself with your arousal. The next time he pulls himself back from you, he only does it briefly— and when he pushes himself back it’s with a thrust into you hard and fast, nearly bringing you to another orgasm despite you just coming down from your previous one.

Your thoughts leave you as he continues to move in and out of you, filling you up and satisfying you the way he always does, but you manage to speak without realizing. “You make me so happy,” You whimper, and your walls contract as he slams into you deeper, lifting your legs and situating them against his shoulders. He buries himself so deep inside it’s almost like he’s melded himself into you. He’s so big, you can barely breathe, allowing him to bring pleasure to you both as he moves.

“Shit, Y/n.”

Even this moment feels too good to be true. To have him rocking against you, pulling you closer than anyone ever has. It feels like a dream.

Your words become nothing but a moan when his thrusts don’t falter and instead pick up. You don’t know how he’s managing to keep going, how he’s managed to move even quicker.

"Come on, baby," he whispers, clenching his jaw, letting you know that he’s on the brink of orgasm. Chan bends down, taking your lip into his mouth, making you sigh in bliss. Then his fingers come down to find your clit, sending you erupting into another orgasm.

The next thing you know Chan is groaning above you, his body going lax against you and his cum shooting into you forcefully, making you clench harder around him. Chan whimpers as he continues to cum, again and again, releasing into you and painting your walls.

“Oh Channie,” you sigh, “does it feel good?”

Chan nods, his hair brushing against your naked skin, and he presses a soft kiss against your collarbone. His lips rest there as you both come down from your high, basking in the glow of your orgasms and relishing in the presence of each other.

He pulls out of you, dragging his tip against your skin before littering kisses against your face. Small pecks that tickle with the gentle force of them, and you giggle, running a hand through his soft locks.

Your chest heaves with the force of your breaths but otherwise your body feels light, airy, and any negative thought you’d entertained before is completely gone. You didn’t need this to prove that he’s yours, to feel comfortable, but he’s shown you that he wants every part of you, and it fills you with an undeniable warmth.

“How is it that you’re this cute even after all this?” Chan murmurs.

“Shut up.”

You trace your fingers against his skin, tracking his breathing and basking in his warmth. Your fingers slide through the grooves in his abs, tracing shapes over his collarbone, and tweaking his nipple just for Chan’s barking of a laugh when he shoves you away saying that it tickles. You lean your forehead down so that it’s resting just near Chan’s armpit, hairless like usual, and inhale— breathing in his scent, his proximity, him. He's perfect, and he’s yours, no matter what.

You’ve always wished for the closeness and transparency of a trusting relationship— have always wondered if you’d be able to get that, if you’d be able to keep it— and Chan is proof that you have. It feels good to know that there are no secrets, no doubts or worries, and that there can only be acceptance between the both of you. A secureness that would be hard to find anywhere else. It fills you with butterflies, as if you and Chan had just started dating, —and though you have, you’ve been best friends for years— but it makes you incredibly happy to know that those feelings will remain, and you can only hope it'll stay that way forever and always.

When Chan runs his hand down your back, reaching below the covers to squeeze your ass, you huff, poking him in the chest as a warning. Yet you know, and Chan knows, that it makes you happy that you have this. A home, a loving boyfriend who loves you just as much as you love him, and a trusting relationship.

Chan likes this familiarity. Laying down with you, bare emotionally and physically, and unworried about being judged or ridiculed. It feels good, it satisfies him more than he ever thought it could, and makes a comfortable, warm, feeling bloom in his chest. He’s happy, he’s loved, and he inhales— taking in the scent of you, your proximity, your love, and he smiles.

6 years later

Fire crackles in the fireplace of your childhood home, the smell of baked goods wafting through the air and filling your nose with delectable goodness. It’s warm, yet the sweater you adorn only feels even more comforting— though the hand around your waist feels even more so.

In the kitchen your parents chatter with your other family members and with your friends, and in the background a christmas movie plays. A christmas tree stands tall in the living room, ornaments dangle from the branches and twinkle with the small gusts of wind from the heater. Stockings line the fireplace and pictures of you and your family decorate every surface around the house. Pictures of chan, too. Him as a child, you both as teenagers, pictures of you on the first day of college, on the day you graduated, at your first job, a picture of you both carrying keys to your first apartment, and a picture of you both under the altar.

The warm, fuzzy feeling that you first had when you and Chan had started dating has yet to disappear even after all these years. It’s still there every time you look at him, every time you hold his hand, every time he kisses you. You nuzzle into his chest and sway. There’s no song playing, only the sounds of the tv and your loved ones, but still you sway together.

The picture of romance you thought you’d never achieve, yet it’s so much more than that. It’s a completeness that fills your heart, a happiness that doesn’t go away even on your worst days, and the comfort of knowing that someone will be there after a long day— there to hold you and whisper their love to you. You’ve been surrounded by love all your life, but this love is something you never thought you’d have. You’d envied your parents for the fact that they’d achieved it, but now that you know what it feels like you can only be happy at the fact that they’d been so lucky. That you’re so lucky.

So, when did you fall in love?

You think you could most likely tie it back to when Chan first laid a kiss on your skin, cheeks flushed and eyes red with tears. Or, perhaps it was when he’d confessed his love to you, waxing poetic about the feelings that you thought were only yours to hold. Or, maybe it was when he took you into his arms for the first time, holding you with care and treating you as if you were something to be treasured.

Maybe it was before all of this. Maybe you still aren’t really in love, but the way your heart beats when he’s around, when he smooths his hands over your shoulders and tucks his head under your chin, or the way unshed tears brim at your eyes when you look at the ring on your finger, makes you think that maybe you’re in something much deeper than that.

a/n: 😭😭 as always i hope you all enjoyed and tysmm for reading <33 ily

mini taglist: ily all sm <;33 @itsisa @myjisung @raspbinniecreme @ughbehavior & @svintsandghosts (i can’t remember if u asked or not <33)

i can't do this today😭😭😭😭😭 im so fucking weak and this is amazing and i love him so much and

[ 𝟑:𝟏𝟖 𝐀𝐌 ] — 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐉𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍 (𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍)

“kenny,” you whisper. “hey, hey, kenny?” each word is spoken with a poke to his rib cage, and draken hisses, rolling over in bed to turn away with his back to you.

“no, y/n,” he mumbles sleepily. his voice is low, words slurred in his tired state, but it does little to break your resolve. you simply poke his back instead.

“kenny, it’s important,” you whisper urgently. he waits a few moments before ultimately grumbling as he gives in, turning to face you as his eyes glare at you while he rubs the sleep out of them.

“what? what is it,” he asks, voice flat.

“okay. so,” you grin. draken raises an eyebrow, and he doesn’t like where this is heading—even if he doesn’t exactly know where this is heading. “if we were like, i don’t know, forbidden lovers or something, and we had to run away to be together—”

“y/n, it’s three in the morning,” he groans, rubbing his face exasperatedly with his hand. peering at your from the side, he exhales at your pout. “don’t make that fa—okay, you know what? go ahead.”

draken always gives in when it comes to you, and at times like these, it concerns him a little just how far he’d go for you. that much control in your hands over him couldn’t be good, but still, he trusts you. blindly, with no doubts, draken always trusts you.

although, right now, he’s second-guessing his choices.

“okay, as i was saying,” you huff, “if we had to run away to be together, where would you wanna go?” he’s tired and cranky, and his muscles ache, and his eyelids are the heaviest they’ve been with sleep, but still, he sighs before pondering over an answer for your question. and it’s sweet, really, how he always indulges you in your mindless thoughts—no matter how pointless or how late. he always has a soft spot for you, and even if he rethinks his choices sometimes, he can’t ever bring himself to regret them.

“like...to another country?” you hum in confirmation. “then i guess france,” he mumbles. resting your chin on his chest, you peer up at him, his arm curling around you and pulling you closer.

“how come?”

“so that i can push you off that big ass tower and finally get a good night’s sleep,” he grunts, closing his eyes with a yawn. scowling, you slap his chest, making him scowl back. you both glare half-heartedly at each other, his eyes boring into yours. and he has to be up soon, the shop won’t run itself, but all thoughts of rest are whisked away for a moment when he catches a glimpse of you in the dark room, nothing but the moon offering any sort of light.

“well, i wouldn’t run away with you if you treat me like that,” you mutter, adding, “jerk,” after a few moments—just to ensure you get your point across. he snickers, and his arm tightens its grip on you. he feels safe—because he always speaks through his actions, no matter how big or small. the way his arms grasp you, how they always keep you in place, right by his side—they speak figures. draken’s love is pure, it’s raw, and it’s real. you crack a smile at his chuckles, the soft sound melting your heart and then some.

“kidding,” he grins, pecking your forehead. “i wouldn’t blow all that money on plane fare just to push you off a building. i can do that anywhere.” rolling your eyes at how pleased he seems at his answer, you grab a loose strand of hair resting on his shoulder, twirling the ends as you hum thoughtfully.

“okay, if you’re done with the shitty jokes—”

“hey, they're not shitty—”

“why else do you wanna go there?” he shrugs, mindlessly stroking your back with his palm, looking off out the window.

“i don’t know...isn’t it supposed to be like...a romantic place?“ you stare at him for a moment, blinking, and for a second, he wonders if he said something wrong.

and then you break into a fit of giggles, making him stare at you bewildered as a soft blush dusts over his cheeks.

“oh kenny,” you snort. “my little hopeless romantic,” you tease, pinching his cheek. the blush spreads to the tips of his ears as draken scowls, shoving your hand away and huffing. you hope he doesn’t feel your heart hammering in your chest from his words, though.

“i will shove you off a building, y/n. it can happen,” he warns playfully. but despite his words, he still leans in and accepts the sweet kiss you press to his lips, grinning as he pulls away. “okay, your turn. where would you wanna go?” shrugging, you twist the strand of hair around your finger, moving to trace the slope of his jaw.

“anywhere,” you whisper. “as long as i’m with you.” you say it truthfully, and draken’s oddly emotional from the confession. he thinks back to how many cold nights—and bloody ones too—that you’d sat through, how you waited through worrying over his delinquent nature, how even when he couldn’t give you anything, you’d treated him as though he’d given you it all.

draken thinks he’d follow you to the end of the world if that’s what it takes. smiling softly, he presses delicate kisses to your cheeks before connecting your lips, humming into the kiss as his hand rubs up your spine.

“y/n,” he murmurs. you hum in response. “that’s real cute,” he huffs with a small chuckle, making you beam. and all too swiftly, you’re pulled down with your cheek smooshed against his chest and his arms locked firmly around you, no chance for escape. though, you don’t think you’d wanna leave anyway. “now go. to. sleep.”

SWEET LORD I CANT DO THIS. NOT ANYMORE. IM WAY TOO WEAK

love lockdown | k. ryuuguji (draken)

➳ tags ;; fem!reader, 18+, manga spoilers (character death), heavy hurt/comfort, arguing, toxic relationships / domestic violence (not between draken and reader but the shitty women draken dates) mechanic!draken, neighbor!mitsuya, reader is frustrated with draken and is a bit of crybaby, draken fucks up, makeup sex, palm riding? you like grind against his palms, fingering, oral (f!recieving), cumming when you put it in, draken has a big dick (so big) and it’s mentioned to be uncut, not belly bulge but he does put a hand on your stomach and asks if you can feel him, petnames baby, favorite girl, and little lady, morning after, MULTIPLE orgasms

➳ wc ;; 11.6k (help)

➳ a/n ;; draken my man i am begging you to release the shackles you have my clit in. this fic was supposed to be 4k MAX but here we are. tokyorev has me by the neck.. everyone say thank u to @manjihoe​ for not only beta-ing but making me read tr. draken nation... this ones for you *shoots a three and misses*

if you're interested, i have a rlly short playlist here

➳ synopsis ;; draken is a good man, probably one of the best people you’ve ever met in your life. but he has one vice that confuses you, since it feels so out of left field - he’s always dating terrible women and you can’t help but wonder why.

“Draken has terrible taste in women,” ― You watch as Mitsuya takes a little piece of thread, wetting it between his lips before trying to loop it through the needle ― “It wasn’t always like that, though. I don’t get involved anymore about it, but it’s probably his biggest vice.”

“Everyone’s told me that, but no one explains why to me.” you reply back, pulling your knees up to your chest. You watch as Mitsuya carefully stitches the sides of your dress together, eyes lasered focus. His earrings dangle and click together when he dips his head down to take a good look at the damage on your sundress.

“It’s not really our story to tell,” he says after some time, shaking his head like the idea of it would bring up bad memories. You know he’s probably doing the right thing, but you can’t help but be a little frustrated by him anyways.

It’s mostly quiet in your apartment. Mitsuya is your neighbor, bordering roommate - trusted in your space. You know him well enough to know all his friends by name - the things they’ve been through. Despite your initial intimidation - talking to them has been an incredibly pleasant experience. Most of them are rough around the edges, like they’ve seen shit you couldn’t imagine.

But they’re sweet, down to their cores which feels odd. They’ve got the kind of kindness that runs bone deep, that only blooms when you’ve seen some bad shit in your life with no intent to spread more. You see it sometimes when you speak to them, loneliness around the corners of their eyes that makes your heart-ache. They’re good folks all the same.

Of all of Mitsuya’s friends, you were easily most intimated by Draken when you met him. You’d been on an errand with Mitsuya, walking with him to pick up his bike from the shop. He’d managed to find another old friend and wanted to catch up, leaving you to your devices in the front area of the garage.

That’s where you saw him the first time.

Draken is a scary guy. He’s tall, broad, with dark hair and a tattoo on his skull that he’s apparently had since he was in the 5th grade. Aside from being terrifying to look at, he had a deep voice with timbre and an almost cold stare. It’s not often you’re intimidated by someone, but it felt like a survival instinct to step back from him.

You remember it clear as day. Scrambling to find your voice to speak to that.. thug only to be greeted with the warmest words when you introduced yourself as Mitsuya’s friend. He’s got a great smile, aside from being handsome and tall.

You come to find out that Draken in general is maybe one of the nicest people you’ve ever met in your life. Looks can be deceiving with Mitsuya’s friend group, Mitsuya is the most well groomed guy you know and he can beat the shit out of almost anyone

Draken is, however, exceptionally nice. So nice that even your friends seem to feel comfortable around him. You’d leave your drink in his presence and not think twice. He walks home with your girl friends if he’s walking you home, just to make sure they're safe but keeps his distance. He helps little old ladies across the street who seem to ignore his tattoo altogether as soon as he speaks. He just has that energy to him, like there are some people who don’t need to see the scary side of him at all.

Draken is the unequivocal kind of good you think you only meet once in your life. His heart is big, and despite everything he’s been through the world hasn’t hardened him the way it should’ve. Somehow he’s more vulnerable than you could understand.

There’s just one thing about him you’ve always found off-putting, and plainly it’s that Draken is always dating someone terrible.

You don’t like feeling unnecessary jealousy. You do have feelings for Draken but more than that, you’re friends, so you care about him. But every single girl he’s ever brought to meet his friends has been one of the most terrible women you’ve met in your life.

It’s so bad people warned you about it. It’s an almost weekly occurrence. They forbid him from talking to both you and Hina more often than not. They’re rude, ungrateful, and downright mean to Draken. Some of them have gone as far to put their hands on him like they know he’s too good of a guy to hit them back. These would become the first people you’ve ever fought - with Mitsuya and his friends teaching you moves since they can’t exactly fight them themselves.

It’s toxic beyond repair, and every time the current girlfriend is throwing a fit - Draken makes it his responsibility to fix it even if he wasn’t in the wrong at all. He gets this look on his face like he’s sad but he still does it.

Draken is far from spineless or cowardly. Whatever happens in these short-term but horrible relationships only happen because he lets them happen. Because he feels like he should let them happen. They never last but it’s never Draken to break up first.

You know enough about Draken to know that he always feels responsible for the actions of others. You know why, but you can’t help but want to talk some sense into him.

Mitsuya must sense your frustration, an air of heavy exhaustion making you groan into the palms of your hands. He can’t help but feel bad for you - because Draken must know you like him. That you like each other. So aside from the bad choices, it brings up the most obvious question.

Why won’t Draken just date you?

Mitsuya can’t be sure, but he figures Draken has it out to punish himself. To fill the gap but not to let himself be happy, not knowing if he deserves to be happy. It’s not like he doesn’t understand.

It makes him sad too, seeing his friend in such a sorry state. But Mitsuya believes that everyone has to forgive themselves in order to live, in order to make sure nothing is muddy. Ghosts that will always haunt you - it’s hard to learn how to live beside them. He knows that to be true, so he finishes the last stitches in your dress before lifting his head up to go talk to you.

“Just ask Ryu about it,” Mitsuya advises, his voice soft as he folds your dress up and hands it to you ― “Talk to him and figure it out.”

You sigh when you think about it. He’s probably right. You take the dress in your lap, looking at the newly stitched material with a frown.

“Yeah.. you’re probably right.” You reply, unsure of what to feel. You look up at him with a soft smile.

“Thanks for stitching this for me, Mitsu. Maybe I should wear it over.” you suggest light-heartedly. He grins.

“I think that’s a good idea.”

__

Draken is still in his shop when you text him that you wanna ask him something. He offers to wait till after his shift to pick you up from your apartment, but you figure if you wait it out you’ll lose nerve. You go to his shop and he lets you without a word.

He looks good when he works. He’s been working on an older car for the last few weeks, been texting you updates that read mostly nonsensical to you. An American Cadillac that he recently managed to snag - beat up and broken. You can see it in the back when he opens the door up.

You can tell he’s been laying under the car and fidgeting it with the stuff underneath. There’s grease stains on his cheeks and on his jaw, and his jumpsuit is half-way down his waist. Unzipped, his hair is pulled up like always. He’s got a thin sheen of sweat on his skin.

You looked the same as usual but Mitsuya pushed you to change into your sundress. Your lashes are dolled and dark, mouth glossy and hair fixed lazy. You’re wearing a dress anyhow, a jacket over your shoulders to deal with the cold.

He swings the red wood door wide, leaning against the frame with a warm smile. He’s so good looking it kills you, his expression drawn up. Draken doesn’t give himself enough credit for being handsome in the rugged way he is. His gloved hands cross over strong chest, tight shirt against his pecs. You swallow something in the back of your throat, fidgety.

“Whaddya want?” he asks, faux annoyance in his voice. You roll your eyes prepared to say something sarcastic, but then he pauses for real. He gives you an up and down glance.

“What’re you wearing that for?” he asks again, face scrunched in confusion. You pause and then realize that it’s the dress. You give him a grin.

“I have a date after this, didn’t I tell you?”

He doesn’t like the sound of that at all. He shakes his head, brow pinching even more.

“Huh.. is that right? With who?”

You roll your eyes at the tone of his voice.

“A date with my vibrator and netflix, sir. Mitsuya was at my place and he fixed up my dress so I wore it here.” you reply easily. He frowns at you.

“Don’t speak so crassly to me,” he tuts, stepping aside to let you in. You roll your eyes at him before walking it but he uses his arm to make sure you can’t get in.

“I’m serious.” he warns. You give him another frown.

“You talk about shit like that with Mitsuya and them but I can’t crack jokes?”

He gives you a look like you’ve said something ridiculous. But you stand your ground, partly because you don’t enjoy Draken telling you what to do but also because you don’t understand why it would bother him in the first place.

He glares at you.

“No, you can’t. Not to me or anyone else. Clear?”

You pretend the sound of his voice doesn’t send your gut to your stomach as you huff, pushing forward anyways with a frown.

“Yeah yeah, okay got it. Move, I’m cold.”

Draken lets you pass finally. There’s a little area for the shop and through the door is the garage where Draken does his actual work. When you step inside, you take a deep breath looking at the familiar surroundings. The garage is covered edge to edge in bikes - some for repair and some for sale. Low ceilings with big windows, some boarded up entirely. There’s tools around in red and black carts, car parts, and posters of pretty women and American rappers on the walls. It always smells vaguely like gasoline and metal, an almost coppery taste on your tongue when you step inside.

The car Drakens working in the back. You watch as he walks past you, carrying a stool under his arm. Your shoes squeak as you fall into step behind him, weaving through the bikes. He sets the stool next to the industrial drawer he has to store materials - the only thing he had formally installed for the shop. It’s not very big, but it’s unmoving and up against the wall.

You hop up onto the stool, resting your elbow on the drawer and letting your palm press against your cheek. Draken is in your view. He sits on the creeper seat, balancing on it bent over his knees before looking over at you.

“You still didn’t tell me what you wanted to talk about.” he tsks. He lays back onto the creeper seat, before rolling back under the car. His voice is just a touch louder when he speaks to you now, you watch amused. His body is so big when it sticks out from underneath the burnt-orange cadillac.

“What’s up?”

You’re silent for too long, probably. You bite the corners of your lip trying to find a way to bring it up to him. Mitsuya is right that this is the best thing to do, but that doesn’t mean it’s an easy thing to ask about. Especially because you aren’t exactly sure what to ask him. Why seems too straightforward, not gentle enough for something like this. Something about asking unsettles you. You don’t know everything, and that’s scary.

But, you’re more afraid of not knowing. Of him closing you out. So you sit in silence for a long while until Draken slides back out with confusion all over his face.

“You’re freakin’ me out.” he says hesitantly. You sit up straight and look at him, hands shaking ever so slightly.

“Promise you’ll be real with me?” you ask, sticking your pinky out just far enough so he can reach it. He laughs lightly at that, but takes it anyway, shaking your hand with linked pinkies.

“I don’t know what you’re going to say.”

“It’s like.. about the girls you bring around, I guess.” you say with a wince. You’re not sure how to phrase it, how much more gentle you can treat the situation. What diction could you use to divert the reality? But you see it in his face immediately, how he’s on the defensive. A part of you believes he’d be more understanding, but you knew.

For Draken.. For Ryuguji Ken - love cannot exist without survival. It’s instinctual, that belief.

Because while Draken is kind and nice - he also takes no interest in explaining himself. Because he feels like he can have a vice or two, maybe.

To have you involved as little as possible - part of it’s purposeful. With awareness that the further you are, the safer you can be. You don’t know which exactly this time, maybe a mix of both. No one ever taught him how to deal with grief, and this must’ve been the best he could come up with.

But, you have to ask. To pry it out of him with your teeth, sharp in his anguish, if you have to. Because it can’t keep going like this. You can’t keep watching it if it does go on. Love has you playing offense, with your heart on your sleeve and apology on your tongue. How do you phrase it softly, kindly?

That you can love someone through their grief, but they have to let you in? Is there a way to say it without hurting them? If your lover is an open wound, how do you teach them the difference between that pain and the sting from stitches?

There’s no way you think. For this conversation to be easy. Nothing ever is with Draken, and that’s fine even if it scares you

When his face goes cold, you take a deep breath and steel your nerves. Your face goes soft, but you have to be strong.

“I just wanna know what’s on your mind, Ken. I wanna know why you keep..” you trail off, unsure of what to say.

“Keep what?” he spits, a little more venom in his voice than he means. You deflate a little. Not angry, but frustrated. Tired of seeing him put himself through it without at least knowing why. You rub your temple.

“I’m not trying to start a fight.” you reply with an even, easy quality to your voice. You have to hold it together.

“I don’t want to talk about this with you.” he replies back, trying to quell his initial anger. It’s not like him to feel like this. He knows that, but he can’t help. His guard about how he acts is always down with you and it shines like this.

“Ken..” you trail, voice tired “I can’t keep watching you do this with them. I can’t, and I won’t just sit here and watch.”

“It’s not your business to begin with, fucksake.”

He doesn’t mean to raise his voice at you, but it comes out. He watches as you retreat. Stares at you when your eyes go wide with something akin to fear and his stomach drops. Because as much as you know Draken would never hurt you, he’s scaring you. And maybe you’re too strong for your own good, because your voice shakes in your throat when you look at him. Your palms curled in, hands fisted at your knees.

“Don’t raise your voice with me.” you say sternly, expression unreadable. “Not now, not ever Draken.”

He pulls back, face crumpling with frustration as the two of you look away from each other. He hears a deep sniffle and his eyes snap up again. You’re crying, not big sobs but sniffles. Your eyes red around the corners, frustrated crying. He stares at you and his heart drops, and he thinks about how Mitsuya is gonna kill him. He thinks about the guilt he feels for making you fucking cry.

“I’m gonna leave.” you say, taking a shaky breath. Your hands in your pockets, pressing your fingers to your eyes so your makeup doesn’t run. You sound hoarse, like you ran here “I don’t wanna do this right now. I’ll text Mitsuya to pick me up and I won’t tell him, so.. I’ll see you later, Draken.”

Draken is good with gut feelings. That emotion - the brief sense that if you don’t do something right now, right away everything will fall apart. He feels it when he watches you stumble to your feet. When you take another deep breath and put your hands in your pockets, ready to walk off. His body moves on it’s own, heavy steps as he rushes to you.

His hand snakes your wrist and holds it. You close your eyes, breathing another deep breath.

“Ken, let go of me. It’s fine, you don’t want to talk,” you urge, your voice trembling. “I don’t wanna fight with you. Let me go, please.”

His grip loosens but he can’t let go. You try to wiggle out of his grasp but he can’t, he can’t. He’s scared that if he cuts you loose this will be the last time. He’s not exactly sure what it is, but Draken knows better than to go against his instinct.

“I didn’t mean to snap on you like that..” ― He trails off, shutting his eyes ― "I know it’s not.. I know you mean well. I’m sorry.. fuck - really sorry. I don’t wanna see you cry.” His voice is soft.

You know he means well but you can’t help but feel resentment, because you can’t tell if he means it. Your mind wanders to all the girls he’s dated and brought home, and you wonder if he snapped at them too, or if he comforted them kindly and softly. And you recognize that ugly, bitter feeling. You don’t want to compare yourself, because you are good and whole all on your own.

But it rears its head like this. When you’re frustrated, exhausted from being strong. From holding Draken together so many nights. Because he has opened his heart to you before, and you’ve held in your palms carefully. Because you’re good to him, more often than not. Frustrated because you haven’t done anything to deserve this, and you know if you don’t turn back now everything will pour out of you.

Love is a wound, and you bleed for Draken more than anyone else.

“Please let me go, Ken. I can’t… I don’t want to do this with you. If I’m here any longer, it’s gonna get ugly. Let me go.”

You try again, to move. But he won’t let you, won’t budge. You think it again, that you don’t deserve to feel like this. That love shouldn’t hurt, or cut you so deep but all Draken feels like is a thorn in your side. You tremble again, knees buckling.

Your voice is watery. You can’t help but shake. It’s too much, too much, too much. Everything feels like it’s coming apart but you can’t let yourself be swayed. You have to be strong, you have to be. He’s made it clear, so you have to leave and you have to do it for you.

“Why aren’t you letting me go?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Let me go, Ken.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N - I’m sorry.”

And then it comes, like a reckoning. It’s divinity, and rips heaven in two pieces and let hell come from within it. Everything comes out and it comes so fast and you can’t control it. Fear, frustration, longing - it comes out of you in a rush.

“I just want to go home, Ken. You don’t want to talk about it, and I’m respecting your decisions so why won’t you just let me go? Why can’t you just let me leave quietly?”

He closes his eyes when you turn to him, and can't look at your tearful expression without feeling terrible.

“I know it’s hard for you, how hard your life has been. I’m so afraid of hurting you I don’t know what to do with myself half the time,” you shake your hand off. Your body trembles with rage, with frustration that bubbles over until it spills “But this isn’t fair. If I did something that made you treat me like this, just tell me and I’ll say sorry and leave.”

“I don’t want you to leave -’

“But this isn’t fuckin’ fair to me, damnit,” you hiccup a sob. You don’t mean too, don’t mean to cry. Don’t mean to sound so frustrated, don’t mean to make it about you “It’s not fair you raise your voice and get angry with me when I’m asking you a simple question. I could forgive you for that -”

You shake with rage, wiping your tears with your palms even when they come too fast. Draken has felt horrible in his life more times than he can count, but nothing more than now. This gut-wrenching feeling, like he knows. Like if Draken were a little more honest with himself he could’ve prevented this.

“But you don’t get to make me stay. You don’t get to cross that boundary with me and make me feel like this. I just want to go home, I’m so tired of mulling over this. I’m tired of seeing you go through this again and again and not knowing why. I’m tired of not talking to you for weeks because the person you’re with won’t let you talk to me,”

His face crumples again, crushing despair on his eyes. All you can do is cry, throat hoarse.

“But I forgave you, even when you didn’t ask for it, because I just wanted to be in your life. Even as friends, I want to be close to you.” You feel your jaw get tight with frustration “But I’m so fucking tired of feeling crazy for caring about you, so I’m not going to butt in anymore. And we don’t have to talk about it, I get it. You’ve made it clear, so please just let me go home. If you respect me at all, you’ll let me go home.”

You take a deep breath and turn to move on your heels and leave. You’ve said your piece. You’re so tired you feel like you could fall into the Earth and let it swallow you. Your head hurts from crying, so when the hiccuping settles - you wipe your eyes.

And if it wasn’t painful enough, clear enough that Draken fucked up terribly - at the end you give him a half-hearted smile. You feel pitiful and tired and it’s awful, but at least it’s settled. That gives you some semblance of relief, even if it hurts.

“I’m sorry I misread everything, but I get it now. Promise I’m not mad, so I’m gonna go home. I’ll see you on campus Monday. Get home soon, okay?”

Draken has to move, has to. He knows it’s not fair to you, but he can’t let things end like this. Not when he knows that if he leaves it here, this will be the end of the only thing he’s managed to find happiness in ages.

He knows he should let you go, but he can’t. He flips you around and drags you to his chest. You’re pulled into him more fast than you know what to do with. Draken has always been exceptionally tall and strong, but you feel the extent of it when he drags you into his arms. Strong arms and chest, Draken hugs you with all the strength he can muster. His hand cradles your head and he presses you to him with overwhelming strength.

He smells like home, like motor oil and cologne and home and you hiccup.

“Why’re you still holding me?” you manage through a broken sob, body melting into his so easily. You fit perfectly against him.

“I’m sorry,” he sounds so remorseful it shakes you to your core “Let it out. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to.. didn’t mean it. You’re upset right? Let it out for me. Tell me you’re mad.”

“No,” ― you whine exhaustedly, shaking your head ― “You just feel bad for me cause I’m crying. It’s not special to you, I don’t wanna cry to you. I wanna go home and cry to Mitsu.”

“I don’t want you to cry to anyone but me.” he mumbles against your forehead. His arms feel so safe, but you try your best not to be swayed.

“Leave me alone, I don’t want to be here. Let me go.” you plead, exasperated. These petulant, petty feelings. Everything is starting to make you sick.

You try to wiggle out of his grip but he only holds you tighter, so tight you can breathe.

“I can’t. It’s better if you’re mad, so just get mad at me. Just be angry, but I don’t want to let you leave.” he cradles your head to his chest “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to comfort me.” ― You hit his chest weakly, with no intent to hurt him ― “You don’t get to anymore. I’m tired.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“I’ll stop crying, okay? I’m fine so could you please just -”

You start crying again, even after you just stopped. It frustrates you, when you wipe tears from your lashes all over.

“You’re still crying,” he mumbles, voice rough.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you feel again, overwhelmed with a wave of weakness. It feels humiliating, your cheeks burning in upset. “I don’t want to feel like this”

He’s silent, rubs those comforting circles in your back that only make you grieve harder. Your hands grip the front of his chest, forehead pressed to his chest as you shake in his arms.

“What do you want from me? What’s the point of this? Do you really feel this sorry for me? I didn’t ask for that, I don’t need it from you.” you grit.

It’s quiet. Too quiet, and you’re still crying into his arms. You don’t think you’ve ever been so worn out. And it’s quiet for so long, the silence heavy like a cross on sinners chest. You shut your eyes, uncertain. You just want to stop this, but you’re stuck.

“When I was 15,” ― His voice is so quiet you almost can’t hear it. The only reason you can is because you’re so close to him ― “The first girl I ever loved.. Mikey's little sister. She uh.. she was killed.”

You freeze in his arms, and he hugs you a little tighter.

“It wasn’t my fault, or Mikey’s fault even though I beat his ass at the time. We couldn’t protect her” ― He hugs your waist to him, like he’s thinking about what to say ― “It was a long time ago, and it wasn’t just her. Wasn’t just anything, I think Mikey leaving without a word - that too.”

“I got used to seeing people die, but I really did love her as much as 15 year old me could love anyone.” ― He goes quiet for a beat before continuing ―”I know it wasn’t my fault, or anyones but those fucking bastards.”

His grip tightens, just slightly.

“But I couldn’t forgive myself for what happened. The first time I got into a relationship like that it was an accident, but that punishing feeling. Somehow, it felt like the right thing to do.” he says with a light laugh.

“I’m sorry you’ve been hurt so much,” ― You say first, teary but settled. He’s almost startled by how easily your attitude changes, your voice tight and pained― “You were just kids. None of you deserved that,” you say earnestly.

He smiles at that.

“I don’t think we did either,”

“But you shouldn’t punish yourself,” you say, shaking your head, like you’ve thought about it plenty. “She wouldn’t want that for you, I know she would want you to be happy. And to live peacefully, at least.”

He doesn’t realize how long he’s needed someone to tell him that until the words leave your mouth. He hugs you tighter than before, and nods. It’s quiet for a while as you pull back.

“Thanks,” he says quietly. You give him a warbly smile. Your heart aches a little, but you pull away with understanding.

“Thanks for tellin’ me,” you smile sadly, mouth curled up. You can ignore the ache in your chest for now. For his sake.

“I’m gonna head home now,” you say, yawning, weary and unwilling “My head hurts, and I want to sleep and watch movies with Mitsuya.”

But, Draken stops you. His arms are still tight around and he’s looking down at you. At your face, teary and distressed. He can’t say for certain what Emma would’ve wanted, but he knows that you’re here now. And it’s not fair to you, hasn’t been in a long time.

Draken doesn’t want to punish himself anymore, but he can’t let you leave like this. And he trusts you, but the idea you’ll go home to Mistuya and he’ll wipe the tears off your face makes something makes his stomach tight. He furrows his brow.

“Are you sure that’s everything?” he prompts. You feel embarrassment bloom into your cheeks, heart feeling like it’ll ache. You’re embarrassed, so you look away. Your hand flies to his chest.

“I-I’m sure.” you flush, as he gets inches away from you. He grabs your jaw with his hands, making you look at him.

“Don’t lie to me.” ― His breath is warm, smells like 5 gum and is too close to you. Flusters you but you can’t look away ― “That’s not the only reason you were crying, was it?”

“Draken, please -”

“I want you to be honest with me. I’ll comfort you. I’ll say sorry, too. You think I wanna let you go home to Mitsuya and have him take care of you?” ― He grits his teeth, jaw feathers just thinking about it ― “No wonder you’re so pissed at me.”

Your expression softens and you can feel yourself going all soft again. You’re too tender for this right now, for his incessant prompting. Battered from all the emotional labor, you really don’t want to cope with your feelings for him like this. You feel yourself getting frustrated.

“I fucked up real bad, didn’t I?” ― his voice almost sounds like a coo, but it’s rough and low and apologetic ― “Made you think you weren’t special to me at all. Fuck, you know that’s not true, right?”

“Stop,” you shake your head, trembling like a leaf in the wind. “I don’t want to cry anymore.”

He cracks a sad smile at you.

“Were you mad at me when you saw me with ‘em?” ―He asks, eyes tracing your face, watching as tears form at your lashes ― “I don’t like making you mad. I really don’t like making you cry.”

You hit his chest with weak fists, crying again.

“Are you mad at me?”

“You’re so mean to me.” ― You hit his chest with closed fists, shaking a little ― “Why’re you so mean t’me?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I thought I wasn’t good enough for you,” you admit, unsure of how to proceed. “I still feel like you don’t.. I don’t wanna be selfish.”

“You can be selfish with me,” ― He grabs your hands and brings them to his chest, mouth brushing against your knuckles. With a lopsided smile he leans into your touch ― “You can be whatever you want.”

“Bet you say that to everyone.” you sniff. You know it’s petulant, petty but you feel like you’ve got a right. He chuckles.

“Not everyone,” He kisses your knuckles and you flush “Promise you’re my favorite girl.”

That makes you really shy. You look away that time, screwing your eyes together. Your stomach flutters with warmth and you can’t help but be nervous. You want to tell him he doesn’t have to do this, but your mouth is cottony. Your heart is pounding.

“Hey, look at me.”

“I don’t wanna.” you reply quickly. He tsks, turning your jaw.

You’re met with his face in front of you. Strong nose and brow, sharp eyes and brows. He’s handsome even covered in grease, and your stomach turns at the sight of him. He’s so overwhelming to be around, sharp canines peering through his lower lip when he glances at you. He squishes your cheeks together, lips smushed.

“Why don’t you wanna look at me, huh?”

You scrunch your nose, closing your eyes.

“Cause you’re mad? D’ya act like this with everyone?” He muses. Your face is still smushed in his big palms.

“Act like what?” you say through muffled huffs. He lets his nose brush against yours.

“Act so cute,” His lips are close, hands snaking to the back of your neck - palms cupping you close to him as he leans down “D’ya act so cute with everyone or just me? Does Mitsuya see you whine like this?”

“You’re so close.” you mumble stupidly. He chuckles.

“Yeah I am. I wanna kiss you. Gonna let me?”

“Maybe.”

He laughs, and it’s so warm. And you smile, and it’s so forgiving. You’re so forgiving to him.

“What do I have to do?” he asks, letting your arms come up around your necks.

“Tell me it again,” ― Your voice is sweet, like summer ― “That it’s me, that I’m your favorite.”

“You’re my favorite girl,” He presses his lips to yours “Can I take you home and show you?”

You shy away again but nod.

“Take me home, Ken. Wanna go home with you.”

__

Draken lives alone.

In an apartment on the upper-east side. He doesn’t have any roommates even though everyone in Toman has offered to stay with him. Insists he needs the alone time, after working with customers and rowdy folks all day. You’ve been to his apartment before, but it’s different this time. Normally all you’re doing is hanging out, but today he’s got a hand on your waist and his eyes following your silhouette.

Today, he shuts the door behind him before he pins you against it. Your body is littered with goosebumps. He’s so quick to kiss you, it startles you. Draken kisses aggressively, like he needs to get everything from you before he falters. He kisses like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, big hands cupping your face. He cradles you like you’re a precious thing, kissing you again and again.

Kissing just to kiss, just because he wants to kiss you even though there’s a laundry list of things he wants to do to you. With you, right now he just wants to kiss you. His lips are soft and full, and he’s got a mouth that makes you feel warm from the inside out. It’s oddly adoring - this exchange. Drakens hands settling on your face. Can you tell that he loves you? Can you tell that he wants you more than anything?

He doesn’t know how to say it softly. He’s never been good at being anything other than honesty and fighting. But he’s trying to tell you he’s sorry, that he’s trying, that he wants you in the palm of his hands, that he wants to be happy. He wants to tell you it’s hard and he wants you to feel it - to cradle him in your arms and make him forget everything.

He hasn’t loved anyone properly before. In a time and place where he’s safe too. His heart is clumsy with yours. His hands are too heavy, touching too aggressively. He kisses you like he’s asking if you can’t take it, all of him. The parts of him that aren’t fixed.

You laugh into his heavy kisses, pulling away with a giggle.

“Ken, hey - slow down.” you voice it through an airy breath “Gotta get to your bedroom.”

“I can’t fuck you against my door?” he muses. You hit his chest lightly.

“Another time.” you say through a whisper, like a secret “After my finals, maybe.”

He presses his forehead to yours.

“Oh, shit I forgot about that.” he replies, kissing the corners of your mouth. “Another time.” he agrees.

He takes your hand and drags you to his bedroom. His room isn’t very big, with his bed taking up most of it, but it’s intimate. A king sized mattress is enough to fit him comfortably, and the two of you fall together. He turns on a dim light, just enough to see you.

Draken watches as you rustle against the sheets, your head hitting in the pillow with a smile on the corners of your mouth. You grin at him as he crawls on top of you. His leather jacket is shrugged off strong shoulders as he cages you in with his form, his forearms on either side of you. His eyes are dark when he glances over at you, thumbs wiping under your eyes.

“Don’t like that I made you cry.” he says, thumb smudged with black. You hum.

“It’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t make you cry.” he sighs, frustrated.

“Are you planning too or something?”

“No,” he says quickly.

“Good, come kiss me.”

He smiles at you. You look like a dream, even like this. Tear-stained, tired, you still greet Draken warmly. He dips down to meet your mouth in a kiss, same as before but this time he doesn’t stop. His hands are big, calloused with consistently bruised knuckles and warm palms. They flush against your skin, your thighs bent back with Draken in between them.

You can feel your skirt ride up over your thighs as Draken leans over you, arms resting on either side of your head as he presses himself to you. The shape of his cock is obvious in his jeans, hard and heavy against your clothed cunt. Draken doesn’t let your mind wander too far from him - his hands dragging up your thigh, cupping your knees before sliding back down. The skin to skin makes you feel flushed as he keeps kissing you. Warm mouth, he slips his tongue against yours.

It’s thick - hot and heavy as a little saliva drips down the side of your cheek. Draken palms your entire body. Over your thighs, on your waist, and just briefly he’ll squeeze your tits through your tiny little sundress. He can tell you’re not wearing anything underneath, can feel the weight in his palms. You moan into his mouth when he touches you - groping every inch of your skin.

He rests at your hips, his thumb hooking underneath your sundress to pull it up over your panties. They’re cotton, printed with polka dots. Draken gets a brief glance at them. His eyes wander over your body - letterman splayed as your lower half is covered in goosebumps from the cold air. You bite your lip as your eyes flit up to his face, thinking about covering yourself with your hands.

Draken is wordless. He moves into action quickly, his hands going to take your jacket off your shoulders and leaving you in your short dress. The thick material slips off your skin and Draken places a kiss onto your shoulder. He leaves open mouth kisses all the way up your neck until you wiggle your arm out. Your hand rests on his shoulder as he moves to do the same to the other side.

You’re not even naked, but the slow undressing feels exposing - heart bared on your chest as he continues to slide you out of your coat. When your skin meets the air, his tongue traces against the goosebumps on your shoulders. He leaves hickies this time around. All the way up your neck as you feel his muscles with your hands. Warm skin, your mind is hazy with the feeling Draken’s teeth against your neck.

You can feel the blood rushing underneath your skin, how he breaks capillaries beneath the surface until they’ve bloomed a deep red, almost purple. They pulse for two beats even afterwards, and Draken leaves so many he almost feels sore. You know it’s meant to claim you, the way Draken touches you. You let your hands slide onto his face, cupping his ears and running your thumbs over the shell.

He looks at you tenderly, and you smile back.

“I’m all yours, Ken. Don’t rush.”

“All mine, yeah?”

“Yeah. All yours forever.”

“Forever?”

When your eyes meet, you can’t help but feel like you’ll fall into the floor. Because you say it, and Draken looks happy. The prospect of it gives him a wolfish grin and a warm glow all at once - his mouth in a wide smile that shows off the straight teeth.

He doesn’t say anything more, but he does kiss you again. Light presses of the mouth that feel like all the Thank You's you could ever ask for. He kisses you until you’re relaxed again and pulls back so he can take a good look at you. He takes your arms and holds them over your head.

“I know you don’t like listenin’ to me but could you be good and keep em there?” He muses.

“Who said that?”

“You, dummy. You’re real good at sayin’ at whatever you want.” He lets his head dip down to your neck, places kisses against your throat, down your chest until fabric gets in the way.

“Is this about… what I said in the shop?”

“If the rest of Toman heard you talk about your vibrator, don’t you think they’d go around picturing it? Especially Michi since he’s weak to you, anyways.” ― He scolds you lightly, but his eyes are serious ― “You’re a good girl, so act like one. You needa have good manners.”

“Were you thinking about it when I said it?” you take your lower lip between your teeth “Were you thinking about me?”

“I’m always thinking about you.” he replies easily.

His hands travel down to the bottom of your dress, from where it was pushed up over your stomach. He stares down at how it hugs your body, around your curves. Tight against your middle, let your tits press against the thin material. Instead of taking off right away, he simply lets his fingers pinch the fabric and pulls down until they fall out of the front.

It makes you gasp, the sudden rush of cold air making your nipples hard. Draken’s eyes drop to your chest, a groan escaping his lips at the sight of your skin. How they fall, how they sit - his hands shake as he reaches out for them.

But he takes in his palm regardless, lets his hands brush over the sensitive area and watches as your eyes flutter. You keep your hands still like he asks, above your head.

Draken makes quick work of touching you. His lips find your chest, kissing the underneath side of your tits with a soft hum. He lets his tongue dip, tastes the skin just below the roundest part. He treats them well, his free hand squeezing whichever one he can’t pay enough attention to you. You squirm underneath him, trapped under his weight. Your feet kicked, your toes curled as you shy away from him.

“Ken,” you whimper. He looks up at you with an easy smile, head tilted as he takes both and squeezes them together.

“Yeah?”

“More,” you whine, already embarrassed over asking “Please, please.”

He finally closes his mouth around where you need him most, leaning over to spread your legs apart. His tongue slides against the hardened bud, leaves a wave of heat running through it as he sucks on it, licks on it with content and his eyes closed. Your body feels light when he touches you. Arms still rested over your head, you roll your body against Drakens.

His fingers are big. You feel them, light over your clothed cunt. He lets his middle finger run over wet fabric. Your mind goes blank as soon as you feel the warmth of him against your body. His weight is heavy, pressing you firmly into the mattress. Draken listens to your gasp and his lips curl up. He likes the sound of your voice, the breathlessness in it.

“Does that feel good?”

“Ken,” your voice is soft in his ears.

“What is it baby?”

You whine when he calls you baby. His voice is so deep. It makes your heart jump into your throat. His fingers go again over the wet-spot, soaking his fingers until they’re sticky. He rubs you again and again. You feel him everywhere on your skin, his mouth is just as relentless as the rest of him but nothing is more embarrassing than his hands and how they make your panties stick to your folds. They cling to you pretty, the light fabric outlining every inch.

You roll your hips into his hand without thinking about it, Again and again, until you’re practically rubbing yourself into his palm. But Draken indulges you, watches your face through amused eyes as you grind yourself, voice wobbly as you chase your own high without thinking twice. Draken cups your pussy through your panties with nothing but affection, watching you work for it. He’s never seen you so distracted before. He lets you go, smiling when you call his name.

“Ken,” you huff, voice trembling. The friction is good. Draken is so sturdy, and every time you press - he presses back. Every rut of hips, he meets. He bites your nipple gently to get your attention, and your eyes flutter open to his face.

“D’ya need me here at all?” he teases. You blink at him, nodding.

“It’s your fault I’m like this.” you manage, just barely keeping yourself together.

“Gonna cum just like this? Can you?”

“Really wanna,” you admit, dazed and desperate “Wanna cum f-for you. Want you to watch me.”

“Fuck.. fuck - you’re gonna kill me.” He mumbles, nipping your skin with his teeth “Where’d you learn all this from?”

“Just like you, Ken.” you admit. He feels his cock twitch when you say his name like that, like the reason you’re so worked up it’s because it’s him who you’re getting off on. Draken’s always been a gentleman, kind and thoughtful.

But seeing you grind so fucking desperately into his palms - while he sucks your tits and watches you, it makes him feel something he can only describe is animalistic. Sex is always good, but it’s you. You, riding his palms and whining his name and he wants to sink his cock into you more than he wants to breathe air. Wants to make your pussy soft before he fucks into you with all he has. You’re so fucking beautiful, it’s unlike anything he’s ever felt.

“Ken, Ken, Ken.”

“Gonna cum for me just like this, sweetheart?”

You nod, all worked up. Draken kisses between your tits and watches as your breathing goes ragged. The pleasure is desperate, a fizzing sensation. It’s not enough, not quite what you want but you like the feel of it. The pressure on your clit just from rutting on Drakens palms. He watches with fascination as you get yourself off, something sweet in your tone as you whine. Deep and needy, your whole body shudders. You cum hard, stain your panties till they’re soaked - all for Draken and he lets you. All your nerves feel like they’re on fire, you’re not exhausted but wanting.

You cum on Drakens palm, and open your eyes to look at him. You feel delirious as you stare at him.

“Have fun?” he asks, wholly amused. You nod.

“Want more,” you confirm.

“You wanna cum for me more?”

You nod, and Draken presses his fingers against your lips. You open obediently, eyes meeting him as you run your tongue around his digits. He wonders if you’re doing it on purpose, the way you look at him makes his patience thin. He wants to fuck you so deep, with your knees bent all the way back for him. Your legs up, letting him all the way in.

It’s all he can think about, everything else just another vessel to fuck into you every which way.

Draken decides it then - kissing you one last time for good measure before slipping down again.

“Gonna make you cum on my fingers, okay?” He tells you more than asks. You nod for him, your arms reaching forward to circle his neck so you can kiss him deep one more time. He kisses you, sucks on your tongue until you’re panting into his mouth. His nose bumps yours when you pull off, kissing the tip of it so adoringly. It’s almost like he isn’t itching to be balls deep inside of you, something soft about how he kisses the corners of your mouth.

Draken keeps kissing you. Down your chest, past your navel, all the way until his face is facing your panties. You struggle to breathe, just seeing his face between your legs loosens your mind. You feel another wave of fire burn underneath your skin. Draken runs his tongue against your core, moaning against your cunt with a heavy sigh. You whine - pure white heat flaring through your gut.

His arms are strong as they maneuver underneath your thighs - his fingers dipping into the waistband of your panties. He watches with a bated breath as it unsticks from your pussy, a thin line of arousal as he pulls them off of your body. He puts them in the pocket of his jeans before caressing your thighs again.

He nudges your knees apart with his shoulders, your feet flat on the bed. He stares at you for so long, you shy away but Draken pins you with his body. He’s almost mesmerized by it, the way your clit shines with arousal, throbbing and so pretty. Draken has so many things he wants to do with you, but he wasn’t expecting to feel so much urgency about getting his mouth on you.

He kisses your clit first, once then twice - before he lets his tongue dip. He dips down, starts at your hole and gathers cum on the tip until he’s around your clit. It feels fucking dirty, the heat of his mouth against your pussy. Draken has always been loud when he eats, you’ve seen it before so many times. Still, nothing could prepare you for seeing him between your legs. For feeling the heavy drag of his tongue on the sensitive bundle of nerves, between your folds until your twitching.

Your fingers twist into the sheets as electricity crawls up your spine, making your neck twitch. Draken lets spit drop onto your clit with the tip of his tongue, spits on it before going in again. All you can think about is his mouth on your sex, how he slurps and spits and eats messily just to watch you writhe and twist. You feel like you might melt, a light bit of humiliation making your skin itchy as Draken eats you out with enough enthusiasm that you croak.

“Ken, o-oh.”

“Pretty fucking pussy,” ― He practically moans against you, licking your clit again before sucking it onto his tongue ― “Gotta get it messy so it can take me, yeah? Make sense?”

You want to say something but you’re blank. Draken is distracting, mouth latched onto your heat with no other concern. You feel your body convulse, not expecting to be cumming again so soon. The cool down was so short, and you’re already chasing a high again. But this time it’s Drake setting the pace. Lapping at you like he’s on a mission. He groans against you every now and again, feeling as it reverberates through you.

Your body feels pliant, soft like your soul might slip from it. Your knuckles are almost white from how tightly you hold on. Your body is tense, breathing uneven as Draken massages your clit with his tongue.

“Oh, oh - o-oh fuck Ken, I’m gonna… fuuuck.”

You let out a loud groan, feeling all the tension in your gut coil tight before coming apart completely. You don’t know how it happens, but you’re cumming all over Drakens face, his nose bumping your clit as he makes sure to catch all of it on his tongue. He dips inside with your tongue, groaning at how tight you clamp down it as you spasm. Your back arches off the mattress, as you twitch shamelessly. You cup a hand over your mouth as your eyes roll back into your head.

You cum and it feels like it goes on forever. You don’t get a breather. Draken presses a kiss to your inner thigh, but before you can understand what’s happening - he’s got a hand resting on your navel. His thumb pulls you back, spreads you apart so he can get a good view of it twitching. You’re speaking through short sentences, shivering constantly as the aftershock overwhelms you.

“What’re you… mmfuck.. what’re you doin?” You slur tiredly.

“Looking at you.”

He says that it's a solid answer. You blink down at him, one eye at a time. Your whole body breaks out into tremors when it releases tension and brushes against your clit. You choke out a cry.

“‘s sensitive, Ken. Fuck, hnggh.”

It really was sensitive, too sensitive almost. Enough that it aches everywhere Draken touches you. Everything was overwhelming, even his warm breaths but you were still wired with lust. Your body was still aching for more, greedy and worked up after cumming twice already.

Draken has no plans of cutting you loose. Instead, you watch him with labored breath as he slides his fingers against your sensitive core before he sinks his middle finger into you with ease. He spits on it again, like it’s not messy enough and your whole mind starts to splinter when you feel his finger start to stretch you.

Draken is more often than not silent when he watches you, getting familiar with your cues. His eyes are fixated to how your walls grip down on to his middle finger, the greedy sensation as he so slowly pushes through. Draken doesn’t want to hurt you. Knows he could, not unaware of his size. But more than that, he’s fixated on you. Everything in him wants to claim your cunt for himself, wants you to crave him. He has this unspoken desire to make you all his, always.

And stretching your cunt out with his fingers is part of that. You feel yourself struggling to handle it. You’re so sensitive. Even just one thick finger is enough to remind you of it. When the first finger is knuckle deep, he curls it up. Drakens fingers are long, fit perfectly against your g-spot.

Your mouth drops open, shoulders shaking as he rubs against it easily. It’s not enough but the overwhelming, suffocating sensation makes your whole body reel. You need to cum again, but your body is craving so much more. All you can do is take it patiently, let Draken work you open with his middle finger.

“Gonna break you in half,” ― Draken hisses, eyes burning as he watches how you stretch around his fingers ― “Dick is gonna break you right in two.”

“Ken, fuck.”

“You’re gonna feel so good on my dick baby, I need you to stretch for me so I can give it to you.”

You cry out, feeling as Draken so carefully adds another finger. He’s so thick, even like this you can’t help but feel overwhelmed. Draken’s dick is so fucking big - you don’t know how you’re going to handle him when he fucks you. The thought alone has your spine arching, body flailing with desperation as he slips another finger inside. As he fucks you with them, stretches you wide on them - as far apart as he can.

And he fingerfucks you, just like that. Pumps his digits in and out of your sweet cunt with a guttural groan, the soft slick noise as he fucks them. You sound perfect when you cry out for him - even though you feel so fucking desperate for more. It feels good but you’re craving him. You want to be closer, wanna feel his body cage you in when he pounds you. It feels good but you need more. Want it even if it hurts.

“Draken, Draken, Draken - more.”

“Want my dick, baby? Are you ready for it?”

You could almost sob. It’s out of body, the desperation so apparent that you're sweating just from concentration. You’re so impossibly turned on, heating from the inside out - feverish with lust and aching with pure, vulgar need. You need him, need him, need him.

“Please, fuck me - I can’t take it, I can’t.” your voice shakes as you plead with him. You watch as Draken stands on his knees between your legs. Your eyes are almost teary, so Draken practically tears his shirt off before meeting your mouth in a kiss. He’s sating you, wants to tease you but he needs you just as bad.

“Fuck, mm - baby, I don’t have any condoms.” He warns. You kiss him again, needy.

“Don’t care.”

“Are you -”

“Ken, please just fuck me, please.”

He’s not in any headspace to deny you, so he doesn't bother. You moan into his mouth when you hear his jeans unzip, the noise taunting. The fabric of his pants rustles as he rushes to take his cock out. He shivers when the cold air hits it, and you peer down between the two of you to see it.

Your hands reach between your bodies, to squeeze it. You knew Draken was going to be big. But you couldn’t imagine him being so big. So impossibly big, his cock is fucking massive. It almost startles you, if you weren’t so horny it might. But so hazy, all you can do is stroke it with a whine fettering in the back of your throat.

“You’re so fucking big, Ken - holy shit, ‘s so big.” You cry out. He grits his teeth at the contact from just your hands, rutting against your hands.

“Hold your legs back for me, baby,” ― He instructs, watching as you guide your legs apart - legs in half as Draken spits onto your cunt for second time before spitting into his palm, getting himself slick ― “There you fucking go. Fuck yeah, just like that. Stay just like that.”

Both of you are so restless, the air fucking buzzing. Your eyes are glued to Draken, to his cock and how big and heavy it is. The tip is darker than the rest, but it’s thick and heavy, uncut and so fucking big. Draken slides it against your folds, his whole body shaking. Your lip is between your teeth, anticipation making you delirious.

Then you feel him. The tip of his massive cock, stretching your pussy out so impossibly. Everything in your head goes absolutely blank when you feel it. Your whole body reacts to it, when Draken curses loudly under your breath and you whimper with pure desire. The ache you’ve been feeling for what ages finally feels sated by Draken sinking his cock inside of you. Your walls clamp down desperately on him, around him. You can’t look away, chanting his name like some kind of prayer as he fucks the tip into you so slow.

“Holy fuck baby,” ― He grunts, forcing himself to slow down before he fucks into in one go ― “Holy fuck, your pussy is so fucking perfect. Fuck, fuck - you take me so fucking good. You feel so good, shit.”

“Draken, fuck - the whole thing, need it deeper.”

You grab desperately at his hips, and he’s startled by how forward you are. Your body gives out as his whole cock fucks into you. It feels like it’s in your womb, in your cervix how it breaches you. It’s so fucking deep. So deep it knocks in your lungs. You feel like the entire world is coming apart at the seams, your body shuddering before breaking out into hot flashes. It happens before you understand it, your spine arching impossibly as your pussy clamps down fucking tight around Drakens cock. The pain from the stretch is minimal, washed out from pure pleasure. Blinding, burning like a star falling from the sky.

“S-shit, did you just cum? From me putting it in?”

He doesn’t need an answer. He can feel it, feel you - feels your nails in his shoulders as you cum and cum and cum. You’re silent minus a few deep cries, an almost agonizing orgasm washing over you. Your pussy clamps down onto him like a vice, milks him for everything he’s worth. You’re breathing like you just ran a mile, sweat running down your temple and on your whole body in a thin sheet. You’re still so desperate as you cum but you cling to him.

“Fuck me, Ken. Give it to me, want it so fucking bad.”

“Shit, you’re gonna kill me.”

But Draken heeds your word. He grabs your knees and folds you up, letting his thighs press against yours. He pulls out, lets it smack against your clit before fucking the entire thing right back into you.

He fucks you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever want to do. He pistons you, his dick practically beating against your g-spot like a heavy drum. Draken has good rhythm, but his pace is brutal and unforgiving. He fucks you into the matress, so deep that every movement makes your body shake. All you can is lay there and take it, cry his name out even as your voice goes hoarse. Drakens fucks you with everything he has.

“Fuck you take me so good. Gonna cum so deep in you, fuck baby.”

His words all feel hazy in your mind. It still feels so fucking good, and Draken sets the pace so right. Knocks against your g-spot. You can’t fucking believe yourself, it doesn’t feel real until your voice chokes it out. It’s over when his thumb rubs harsh circles into your clit - something rips you two. Before your mind can even catch up - you’re throwing your head back and thrashing.

“C-cumming, cumming..!”

You’re not certain how much more of it you can handle, but Draken fucks you like you’ve just started. He takes a breather, briefly just to see how much you’ve cum around his cock.

“Wanna make you feel it deeper, get on your knees for me baby. Arch your spine up.”

He manhandles you into it, so easily like you weigh nothing. You press your cheek against his pillow, mouth drooling as Draken presses a hand on your spine pushing you down.

“Deep breath for me.” he instructs. You try your best to keep up with him, but your mind is melted. You take a deep breath, as much as you can - before you feel Drakens cock pushing into you again. It aches a little more this time, but Draken goes slower.

“Play with your clit for me, beautiful,” He murmurs. You snake a hand between your legs, twitching as you feel his cock inside of you again. Your fingers tremble from the stimulation, but you moan as you struggle. You keep twitching. Shaking every time you move. Draken is much more gentle, the pace forgiving because he doesn’t want to hurt you.

But you still feel it, and it’s so much more invasive like this. It hurts despite how stretched your cunt is, but when it feels good it feels so fucking good. Your mind is practically numb as you feel Drakens cock inside of you again, your pussy melding effortlessly around him. Feels like you were made for him, soft and sweet and tight. Perfect pussy, so pretty.

Draken eases himself before bending over you. His hands grip your hips, his whole chest pressing to your back as he shows his cock all the way inside. You whine from a mix of pain and pleasure. Draken eventually gets his hand around your hips, replaces your small fingers with his big ones. He rubs circles into your clit much better than you could.

You thought he was deep before, but this is unlike anything you’ve ever felt. It feels like it’s pressed into your gut, a permanent deep pressure, making your spine ache. Your pussy feels like it’s spread and stretch and so fucking full. You’re overwhelmed when Draken speaks.

His hand presses against your middle, your tummy - and he grunts as he eases the rest of his cock into you with a grunt.

“Feel how deep I am. Can you feel me in your stomach?”

“Ken, I can’t.”

“Promise you can, take a deep breath.”

You try your best, but it’s so hard to think when Draken’s cock feels like it’s in your throat. You fall forward and Draken laughs. He sheathes himself as deep as he can go, before taking your hands and placing them behind your back. He pushes you down with the weight of his body, grunting at how tight you get for him. Despite the position, all you can think about is Draken.

The rasp of his voice in your ear, his strong chest against your spine, hands gripping your hips rutting himself inside of you. The feeling is indescribable - your jaw aching from gasping and grunting as Draken starts to pound into you. The hearboad knocks onto the wall, the power of his thrusts sending you forward. Your knees are weak, Draken carefully snaking a hand onto your clit as he starts to fuck you again. Deeper, faster, harder.

“My favorite fucking girl.” He grunts, feeling his own release coming soon “Can you cum for me one more time? For me, please, baby.”

You can’t, you’re certain you’re not gonna be able to cum again so you whimper Drakens name. All you can do is take it, mind swimming. You’re so fucked out, pussy sensitive and aching - trembling from overstimulation. You swear you can’t, you won’t.

Until you do. Until Draken fucks into you just right, just deep enough and everything comes out of you. Your throat lets out a strangled noise, eyes going wide as something heavy handing hits you like a train. Your orgasms feel like a crash, like you’re falling. Your whole body gives in as an intense spike of pleasure shatters your mind completely. You cunt grips onto Draken so tight, he stops - catching his breath as you milk him with everything you have. Your thighs tremble, your entire body taut as you cum so hard you can’t breathe.

“F-fuck, baby, gonna fucking cum in you - shit!”

Drakens grip is bruising as he pumps you full of his cum, hot and thick and catching onto the deepest parts of you as he finishes with a guttural groan. He cums deep inside of you and your mind melts as he fills you completely. His cock feels so perfect, you reach back to keep him inside of him when he finishes - exhausted but not wanting him to pull out. You simply let him collapse onto you as your eyelids go heavy and he collapses on top of you.

“You know you’re my favorite right? That I love you?”

“I love you too, Ken.”

__

You don’t remember much when you wake up the next day.

You remember the sex well, the fight too - but you don’t remember when you fell asleep. You’re sore when you wake up, sitting up. You’re in an oversized shirt, so big it must be even a little oversized on Draken. You’re naked, no panties and just a shirt over your body. You cover your face in your hands as your thighs are sore, groaning.

Draken is wearing joggers and a fitted white shirt as he leans against the doorframe. He gives you a wolfish grin, dark hairs framing his face - a rubber-band on his wrist.

“Morning little lady,” ― He says, smug ― “Did you have sweet dreams?”

You groan, too shy to look at him properly. You cover your face with your hands, shooing him as he approaches you.

“C’mere,” He gestures. You crawl towards him shyly, standing on your knees to be somewhat at face with him. You lean up a little, and he cranes his neck down to meet your lips. His hands dance against your waist with a warm grin as you kiss him, hands in his hair. He lets his nose brush against yours.

“I could get used to this,” he hums. You nip at his jaw with your teeth.

“You better.”

He laughs.

“Anything for you.”

Vlog #9

This came to mind just today. I don't know how long I have been aware of it but I see a problem and I'll find a solution.

*

I'm really thinking that if I don't seem to want to read my own things anymore... Maybe it was simply never good. Maybe I was just on self-hype.

Or this is just another outing for the frustration I feel for not being able to write.

5 YEARS

5 Years of taking month breaks but going back to it. But now...

Nothing.

Silence. It's like everything else has done so much interference with this radio signal that I can't even seem to remember what dial I was in.

It makes me really fucking sad. I loved doing this.

Now I just don't feel like the juice is there anymore. Or I just can't press from where there's barely nothing.

I'm tired. No matter how much the inner lover in me wants to get motivated. This body, this load of daily things have all my energy and the one I don't have.

Today I didn't want to stand from bed. I didn't even have that big of a list... But.

I need a new way with things. This is making me miserable.

😍

cutie watching his hyungs at the back

my doctor prescribed “kissing a pretty girl all over her face until she’s smiling & giggling uncontrollably” to cure all my ailments

Screaming crying throwing up dying. But in the good way.

Just asked my sister to get me transtape and she said yes. I actually love my sister omfg. She said she would even just get me it normally, not even just for birthdays or Christmas! She's actually amazing. The light of my life. Oh my lord.

😭

At Yoongi’s final concert, he left through the same white door he couldn’t open in amygdala. See you in 2025 🩷

Those idiots are perfect

yes but, finding >20 ticks across one's body every day

from late spring to late fall

for the past seven years

does very little for my kindness towards those little bloodsucking schnorrers.

@wildsilvestre and i all the time oml

my soul is restless

We also offer Phrög and Gekö

This is a Pepeketua (Hochstetter frog), endemic to New Zealand and critically endangered. They grow up to 44mm long (1.7 inches)

they are quiet frogs.

they are smol

and they are cute.

"They're very ancient, and they split off from other frog species around the time of the dinosaurs. They don't croak, they have no ears and they give birth to tiny frogs, instead of tadpoles, and they carry them around on their backs." - Carole Long from Forest and Bird NZ

and, I offer a gecko, because gecko.

This is a Moko Kākāriki (Wellington Green Gecko)

Also endemic to NZ, they grow to 95mm (3.74 inches). They're considered a threatened species and their population is in gradual decline.

The inside of the green gecko’s mouth is an almost neon blue.

They can stick to almost every surface and climb things like no tomorrow.

People who follow me, or mutuals, or even random people who see me once in a while on their feed a lot. Feel free to talk to me. Please. I actually want more system friends. And singlet friends. I don't really have a space like that. I wanna talk and interact and get to know y'all. Like I'm adorable. Why wouldn't you wanna be friends with me.

I just won't budge my stance in endos. They aren't real and need help. I ain't trying to find em and tell em that. I block em when I see pro endo st all.

Kuuchuu Buranko translation (English)

Updated translation : new site

“Trapeze”

Grab these hands so you won’t be afraid I’ll take you with me to the ends of the earth A small scar splits open, and you laugh, but You are so lovely that I don’t even feel it

The tent of dreams is covered by shadows So I’ll catch you, I promise

Swinging, swinging, We’re longing like this You’re on the other side of my outstretched arms Drifting away, swinging closer, we go on endlessly When you release your hold on my arms, into the darkness You fall…

Spilling out come the drops of memories Tear-filled eyes, a sad, dark grey spectacle Though I cover my ears, the laughter echoes I will love you until the end of the world

When we’ve sprouted wings, no matter how uneven they are, Surely we’ll be able to soar

Swinging, swinging, We’re struggling like this At the end of my outstretched hands—hey, you’re laughing We lick our wounds and when the tears fall again, Our entwined fingers come undone and slowly, You fall…

Swinging, swinging, We’re longing like this You’re on the other side of my outstretched arms Drifting away, swinging closer, we go on endlessly When you release your hold on my arms, into the darkness Swinging, swinging, We’re struggling like this At the end of my outstretched hands—hey, you’re laughing We lick our wounds and when the tears fall again, Our entwined fingers come undone and slowly, You fall…

guysss!! i have little follower :D!! they are going to be my friendz :>

You guys have no Idea just how much I hate my mom's guts right now.

She wanted to cut my hair "a bit". I agreed because I know the edges of my hair were a bit damaged.

My hair was long for a guy, slightly below my shoulders. So I thought it would be shoulder-length after the cut, you know "just a bit".

But this fucking bitch cut them to ear length! EAR LENGTH!!!!

I fucking thrived with my long hair! I loved it! She knew I love my long hair! She still decided to cut them! I can't even tie them properly!

I can't do shit with them! I look ugly as hell! I don't even want to go out!

I was finally going out again to look for jobs and she fucking ruined it!

Fuck!