#'i need you to keep believing in me' holds no weight when it is said to the one person that never believed in you in the first place

[kinzhae]

Just Want To Talk PT. 2

Part 2 of this story: Part 1

Gojo Satoru

Gojo stood frozen in the middle of the room, his words echoing in his mind. The second the door slammed shut, regret hit him like a tidal wave. He sank onto the couch, running a trembling hand through his hair. He hadn’t meant any of it—not a single word.

He waited an hour. Then two. But you didn’t come back.

Panic set in as he grabbed his phone and dialed your number. It rang and rang, but you didn’t pick up. He called again, and again, his desperation growing with each unanswered call.

Finally, he grabbed his coat and headed out, searching the city for you. When he found you sitting on a park bench, your face buried in your hands, relief washed over him. But when you looked up at him, your tear-streaked face broke his heart all over again.

“Go away, Satoru,” you said, your voice hoarse. “I don’t want to hear any more of your excuses.”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, his usual arrogance nowhere to be seen. “I messed up,” he said, his voice trembling. “I didn’t mean it, Y/N. Any of it. I was frustrated, and I took it out on you, and it was wrong. You’re not a burden. You’re the only thing keeping me sane.”

You stared at him, the pain in your chest battling with the sincerity in his voice. “You made me feel worthless, Satoru. Like I didn’t matter to you at all.”

His hands reached for yours, shaking as he held them. “You matter more to me than anything. I just… I don’t know how to do this. To let someone in like this. I’m scared of losing you, and I messed up trying to protect myself.”

Your heart softened slightly at his words, but the pain was still there. “You can’t just push me away every time you’re scared.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I’ll spend every day proving to you that you matter to me. Please, Y/N, give me one more chance.”

You hesitated, but when he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, you let yourself lean into him, the warmth of his embrace finally melting the wall around your heart.

Geto Suguru

Hours passed before Suguru found you, sitting alone on the steps of the temple where you’d spent so many happy moments together. When he approached, you didn’t look up.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you said softly.

“I almost didn’t,” he admitted, sitting beside you. “But then I realized how much of an idiot I’ve been.”

You turned to him, your tear-streaked face filled with pain. “You called me weak, Suguru. How am I supposed to forgive that?”

“I don’t expect you to,” he said, his voice trembling. “But I need you to know that I didn’t mean it. I’m scared, Y/N. I’m scared of what I’ve become, and I pushed you away because I thought it’d be easier than letting you see me like this.”

“You hurt me,” you said, your voice breaking.

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. “You’re the only light I have left, Y/N. Please don’t let me lose you.”

You hesitated, but as he reached for your hand, his grip gentle and desperate, you allowed yourself to believe him, leaning into his embrace as he held you tightly.

Nanami Kento

Nanami worked late into the night, the weight of his words gnawing at the back of his mind. He told himself he’d said what needed to be said, but as the hours passed, guilt began to creep in. When he finally went to bed, he found your side of the bed empty.

Panic set in as he searched the apartment, only to find you curled up on the couch, your face streaked with dried tears.

He crouched beside you, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Y/N,” he said softly, his voice filled with regret.

You stirred, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice still hoarse from crying. The exhaustion in your tone cut through him like a knife.

“I should be asking you that,” Nanami replied, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He sat beside you on the couch, looking at you with a mixture of guilt and sorrow. “I shouldn’t have said what I said earlier. I’ve been so caught up in everything that I didn’t even stop to think about how you were feeling.”

You stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his words lingering in the air between you. “You told me I was overthinking, that I was being insecure. But Kento… it’s not insecurity. I just want to feel like I matter to you. I’m not asking for you to drop everything for me, but… I need to know I’m important too.”

Nanami let out a shaky breath, his fingers gently brushing your arm. “You are important to me. I’m just… bad at expressing it. I’ve always been this way, focused on work, trying to make sure everything is in order. But I realize now that I’ve been neglecting the one thing that matters most.”

You shifted slightly, meeting his gaze. “What’s that?”

“You,” he whispered. “I’ve been so focused on my responsibilities that I’ve been blind to what you need from me. I’m sorry, Y/N. I was wrong, and I want to make it right. I don’t want to lose you over my own shortcomings.”

Your heart softened at his admission, but the hurt was still there, lingering. “I need time, Kento. You can’t just brush this off. You need to show me, not just tell me.”

He nodded, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable. “I will. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I don’t take you for granted.”

He pulled you into his arms, gently resting his chin on top of your head. “I know I’ve been distant. But I promise, I’ll try harder. I won’t let you feel this way again.”

The warmth of his embrace was comforting, but the scar from his words still burned deep inside you. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to trust that things could change.

For now, you let yourself rest in his arms, knowing that he was willing to try. But in the back of your mind, you knew that actions spoke louder than words.

Choso

Choso stood there, his eyes filled with an emotional turmoil that he struggled to control. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You don’t know what I’ve done. What I’ve become.”

“Then tell me,” you said gently, taking a step toward him. “Don’t shut me out. Let me in, Choso. I’m not going anywhere.”

The raw vulnerability in your voice cracked the wall he had so carefully built around himself. His breath hitched as he looked at you, the weight of his inner battle tearing him apart.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t deserve anyone. Not after everything I’ve done.”

You shook your head, reaching for his hand. “Choso, I don’t care about what you think you deserve. I care about you. I love you, and I’m not going to walk away because you think you’re too broken.”

He looked down at your hand in his, his throat tight with emotion. Slowly, he pulled you into an embrace, burying his face in your shoulder as he finally let his tears fall.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to push you away. I’m just so scared of dragging you down with me.”

You held him tightly, running your fingers through his hair. “I’m here, Choso. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

In that moment, as he clung to you, you knew that while the pain wasn’t gone, there was hope for healing. You would both find your way back to each other. Slowly, but surely.

Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna didn’t follow you immediately. He stayed on his throne, his expression unchanging, but the empty room suddenly felt heavier than usual. He told himself it didn’t matter, that you’d come back like you always did. But as the hours dragged on and the sound of your footsteps never returned, something began to stir inside him—a feeling he hadn’t allowed himself to name.

By the time he went looking for you, the sun had long since set. He found you in the palace garden, sitting on a cold stone bench with your knees pulled to your chest. Your cloak was wrapped tightly around you, but it wasn’t enough to hide the way your body trembled, either from the cold or from the weight of your grief.

For a long moment, he just stood there, watching you. You didn’t look up. Maybe you knew he was there, or maybe you were too lost in your thoughts to notice.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Still sulking, I see.”

Your head shot up, your tear-streaked face glaring at him with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “Go away, Sukuna.”

He ignored your words, stepping closer until he was standing directly in front of you. “You’ve been out here for hours. Are you trying to freeze to death?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Why do you care? I’m just a ‘distraction,’ remember?”

His jaw clenched, the faintest flicker of regret crossing his face. “I… misspoke.”

“Misspoke?” you repeated, standing up abruptly. Your voice cracked as the tears came rushing back. “You told me I was nothing, Sukuna! That I was weak and pathetic! How do you misspeak that?”

He flinched at the raw pain in your voice, his usual arrogance faltering. “I said those things because I’m a fool,” he admitted, his voice quieter than you had ever heard it. “Because I don’t know how to handle this—how to handle you. You make me feel things I don’t understand, and it terrifies me.”

You stared at him, your anger mingling with confusion. “And you thought hurting me was the answer?”

“I thought it would push you away,” he admitted, his voice filled with rare vulnerability. “That it would be easier if you hated me. But instead, all I’ve done is hurt the one person who matters most to me.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the raw sincerity in his tone breaking through the walls you had built around your heart. “You broke me, Sukuna,” you whispered. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

He stepped closer, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to earn it. I can’t lose you, Y/N. You’re the only thing keeping me from becoming the monster everyone says I am.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Slowly, hesitantly, you let him pull you into his arms, his hold tight and protective. For the first time in weeks, you felt like you weren’t alone.

[mattsnight]

It had been a rough week for you and it was getting a lot. On Monday you had completely forgotten a friend’s birthday, which made her mad and yesterday you had found a picture of your boyfriend kissing another girl. It had been on your mind and you wanted to speak to Chris about it, but you were scared. You were scared for his reaction, because what if it was fake? Would he get mad at you?

Chris had invited you to a party, which he hosted with his 2 brothers Nick and Matt. It was all fun and games until you really felt the need to break down. You tried to hold it back, but the tears just started to stream down your face. Chris noticed and immediately rushed over to you.

“I-i dont know why i’m crying.. it’s just hormones i guess.” You said as your hands were slightly starting to shake. “No no, dont even start with me,” Chris protested. He knew about your hormones, and how they were a rollercoaster, but you would normally tell him when you were upset, and he definitely would still be able to help. He gently tilted your chin, forcing you to look at him. “I know its more than that. You’ve been acting off all day, and you ain't fooling me, so tell me what's actually goin' on,” he said, voice gentle but firm.

You take a deep breath before speaking. “I saw a photo of you kissing another woman..”

Chris felt like the world just crumbled underneath him. He was speechless, staring at you. He didnt know what to say, he didnt even know how he could even begin to explain himself when all he could focus on was how much he hurt you. He was sure he didn’t do anything.

“Is it true?” You ask, looking up into his big blue eyes. Chris hated this, knowing you’d thought he would ever cheat on you. He would die before he did, he would die before he’d even look at someone else. “No ma, it’s not true! I swear it’s not..” he tried to keep his voice steady, tried to calm the panic in his own racing heart. It was hurting him hearing how broken you sounded.

“..I swear to you, i would never, EVER cheat on you. I would never hurt you like that. You’re my everything, my person, you’re the only one for me. You’re the only one i’ll ever need. Please, please believe me, i am NOT cheating, i don’t have, and i don’t want anyone else, okay?” He spoke to you softly, pleading and desperate. He didnt want you to doubt him, he wanted, needed you to understand him. He’d do anything.

He searched your eyes, searching for even a hint of belief. Just.. any indication that you knew he wasn’t lying. He was so serious, his heart hurting more and more the longer the silence went on, his hands gently cupping your face, his breath coming out shaky, “Please, believe me.”

“I believe you, baby.. im sorry.. i was stupid enough to believe those pictures online..”

Chris let out a shaky sigh of relief, feeling a small sense of weight leave his chest as you said that. Thank god. He gently pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly against him. He held his breath, closing his eyes. He was so relieved. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said gently, his voice still a little shaky as he rocked you slowly, “You weren’t stupid for being hurt, i get it, but i promise you now, those pictures are a bunch of bullshit.”

He slowly calmed down, his body losing the tension it held ever since you’d dropped that bomb on him. He gently pulled away, looking down at you and seeing the tears on your face, “No more tears, alright?” He said softly, swiping a thumb underneath your eye, “There’s no need for them.” He leaned down, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I love you, ma.”

“I love you too, Chris.”

[ladyintree]

her eyes narrow in on her,   offended that she’s speaking like that isn’t something on tai’s mind.  it always is,   because she hates that mikayla didn’t get the life she deserved—  free of her father but more than that,  too.   not what actually happened to her.   she wants to ask if she was supposed to stay with her out of some obligation—   but she has enough restraint not to go there,  not when it doesn’t feel accurate.   she loved mikayla,   she loved her more than anything even when they did break up,   but it’s because she loved her that she felt like they couldn’t go on like they were.  she always thought that someday,  there would be a chance for them again — when they were both in the right place — but that never happened.  she didn’t realize then that saying goodbye was final for her.  ❝  that was not my response to … that,  ❞   she mutters in frustration,   quickly glancing to their surroundings,  then back to her.   ❝  i wanted to be there for you, ❞   she reminds her, like it’s simple to her.  ❝  i wanted to be the person you could still come to when you needed to talk, but—  but that wasn’t enough for you, ❞   she reminds,  letting out a scoff.   her eyes close when mikayla admits to never reading them;  part of her always expected that,  because surely,  something would’ve caught her attention,  but it still hurts.  taissa was still trying.   ❝  that’s not what i was doing.  what the fuck?  i cared about you,  ❞    she says,  voice slightly louder now,  growing with frustration.  

 it’s starting to feel embarrassing, the way mikayla throws that in her face.  it does feel like it’s spiting her—  but she didn’t necessarily believe mikayla would do that on purpose.  this is just her own insecurities getting the best of her,   a blatant reminder of how much she’s failed,  despite giving up on the love of her life to try to make something of herself.  ❝  excuse me if i don’t want you to do something you hate, ❞    she argues with a scoff.  ❝  i know it’s not about me.   you’ve made it clear you don't think about me at all,  ❞    she points out, rolling her eyes at the thought,  because even the worst company from the wilderness,  those still alive to run into at any moment,  tai still thinks about them,  so she can’t fathom why it's so easy for mikayla to have let go of her— her wife.  she holds her hands up as she shakes her head.   ❝  no.  good for you, mikayla.  ❞   her words come off condescending,  but she doesn't actually mean it that way.  she's is happy for her, despite it all.  ❝  if you're happy—  good for you.  that's all i wanted.  ❞    she just couldn't have the weight of it all on her own shoulders;  it felt consuming,  like it was going to suffocate her trying to be everything mikayla needed in there.  leaving entirely might not have been the best option,  but it felt like the only one back then.     

her jaw clenches, and mikayla doesn’t have to finish her sentence for taissa to know what she’s suggesting.  but even now, as angry as she’s been with taissa, and even given how estranged they feel—   she still thinks she would do anything for her.  taissa knows she’s alive because of what mikayla did for her out there,  not just physically,  but mentally.   she believes the same is true for her, too—  but mikayla keeps suggesting she’s wrong.   ❝  she—  i didn’t give up on you,  ❞  she corrects.   ❝  maybe you just never understood me.  ❞   but taissa doesn’t believe that, either.   she thinks mikayla would’ve understood her better than she understood herself.  her eyes narrow in on her and she shakes her head.   ❝  maybe if you listened to anything i said that day,  or let me finish,  or —  read my fucking letters —  you’d know the truth.   but i guess you like your story better,  where i’m just the bad guy.  ❞

taissa rolls her eyes,  because mikayla doesn’t need to defend herself for that—  she’s already made it clear she doesn’t care about taissa.  ❝  didn’t say you did,  ❞    she mutters,  taking a deep breath and forcing herself to stand taller,  trying to pull herself together again.   ❝  seems like you’ve been sitting on that one for a while, though,  ❞   she says, nodding back to her,  wondering just how long she’s been antsy to call taissa out on it.   her jaw clenches when mikayla goes on,  because that’s not what she thinks.  it’s never been what she thought,  even when so many people did assume the worst of her before things got bad.  taissa always saw more in mikayla.  she’s also never been loved by anyone the way she was loved by mikayla—-   which is exactly why it’s so difficult for her to comprehend mikayla wanting absolutely nothing to do with her now,  because how did she just turn that off?  ❝  i don’t think you're heartless,  mikayla.   you know that,  ❞   she reminds, her eyes narrowing in on her.   ❝  there’s a difference between being heartless and being so willing to give up on people when things didn’t go your way,  ❞    she adds, ignoring the fact that that’s basically exactly what she did to her first.  

after everything has mikayla on the verge of snapping the way she promised asher she wouldn't. her jaw clenches tightly, teeth grinding together as she takes a slow, deep breath, holding back the rant that's going on in her mind— how it was taissa who gave up on them after everything, who decided that what they had meant nothing out here, like it was just something to get them by in the wilderness, something they no longer had any use for anymore. “ i just killed my dad, tai, ” she reminds her calmly, because it feels like tai's forgotten. “ i almost died. and your response was to— to fucking dump me. so yeah, i cut you out of my life. but you're the one who decided you didn't give a fuck first. ” maybe tai never said that specifically, but it felt that way. “ i didn't read them, ” she admits, keeping her voice flat. “ wasn't really in the mood to hear you try to make yourself look better. sorry doesn't really erase what you did. ” it killed her, not knowing what those letters said, throwing them out before the temptation could get to be too much, but she figured it was what was best for herself— and since it was clear that tai didn't care about what was best for mikayla, she had to focus on that instead, even if it meant ignoring the only woman she'd ever loved.

she looks away, annoyed, because she doesn't think she could ever get tai to understand, not when she got to grow up with parents who supported her, while mikayla only had a man who put her down, who used every opportunity to make her feel like nothing. “ i just fucking told you why. it's not my fault it's not what you want to hear. because you'd rather hear me tell you it's to spite you, right? that it's about you, not him? ” she lets out a cold laugh, her head tilting slightly. “ well, i'm fucking sorry, but not everything has to do with you. ” it doesn't feel like tai knows her, because playing out of spite is something mikayla would have always done— especially now, when most of her choices have been stripped away from her, forcing her to turn back to soccer, because it's one of the few things she's ever actually been good at, whether she liked it or not. “ i'm not miserable, ” she lies, but she's trying to believe her own words more than anything. “ it sounds like you're just pissed off that i'm doing fine without you. ” she's not, but she's learned to accept that, telling herself that happiness no longer mattered, that it wasn't even something she wanted anymore, because she can't stand the thought of losing it again.

mikayla doesn't want to have this conversation at all, but her pride won't let her walk away. she can handle the pain, she thinks, because it's all she's ever felt anyway, but that doesn't mean she enjoys it. “ i was in love with the person i was with out there, ” she clarifies. “ you know— the girl i married. the one i would've— ” killed for, died for, done anything for, but she stops herself before she could go there, feeling like she shouldn't have to. “ but you're not her, taissa. and maybe i was just wrong about you, and you never actually were the person i thought you were, but— the girl i loved wouldn't have fucking given up on me just because it was hard. she would have tried. so i don't know who the fuck visited me that day in prison, but— that wasn't her. ” that's what she's told herself the last few years in her determination to move on— because it was easier to separate tai into two different versions: the one she loved, and the one who hurt her, because that made it easier to come to terms with the fact she lost her.

her jaw clenches again, realizing she fucked up, but it's easy to brush it off like it doesn't mean anything, her shoulders lifting in a small shrug. “ nat, obviously. but trust me— i never fucking asked. ” that's not entirely true, either; there's been a few times when mikayla has, telling herself that it's just because they went through something horrible together, so of course she's curious, never stopping to consider the fact that she can't say the same about some of the other survivors. her head falls back in annoyance when tai, again, accuses her of not giving a shit, because it's not true, and she's sick of hearing it. “ okay, yeah, you got me. i didn't give a shit, ” she agrees sarcastically, because arguing against it seems pointless when tai won't listen. “ nice to know you think i'm as heartless as everyone else does. ”

[rosesareredrosa]

Exactly What I Needed

Theo Nott x fem reader

Summary: based on this ask <33

w/c: 945

a/n: Why is medical school so hard?? literally, i am rotting in bed with assignments everywhere send requests

You’d always known Theo wasn’t the type to openly crave affection. He had his moments—fleeting as they were—where he’d pull you close, bury his face in the crook of your neck, and let out a sigh that told you he needed you. But for the most part, his love was quieter, tucked into stolen glances or the brush of his fingers against yours in passing.

You didn’t mind. You loved him enough to make up for the gaps he left behind. That’s why you didn’t think much of it when you reached out to him one evening, wrapping your arms around him from behind as he sat at his desk, papers and textbooks scattered around. You nuzzled into his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss against the side of his neck. "How’s it going?" you asked gently.

His body stiffened in your embrace, and without warning, he pulled away. "Can you not?" His tone was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife.

You blinked, taking a step back, confused. "What?"

Theo sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I just… I need space, okay? You’re being… clingy."

That word felt like a slap to the face. Clingy. The air between you shifted immediately, and you pulled your arms close to your chest as if trying to physically protect yourself from the impact of his words.

"I didn’t realize I was bothering you," you said quietly, feeling a tight knot form in your stomach.

"Well, you are," Theo snapped, his irritation flaring. "I’m already stressed enough without you hanging off me every second."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. "Okay."

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked out of the room, feeling the sting of tears prick at the back of your eyes. You couldn’t believe how cold he’d been. And worse, how easily he had brushed you off as if your affection was some sort of burden.

For the next few days, you gave Theo exactly what he asked for—space. You stopped greeting him with hugs, stopped reaching out for his hand, stopped slipping into his side on the couch when you watched TV together. The house became a strange, quiet place, filled with a tension neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Theo was so focused on his work that he didn’t seem to notice at first, but then something shifted.

At first, it was subtle. He started glancing over at you during meals, as if expecting you to say something, to touch him. But you didn’t. You kept your distance, heart aching every time he looked at you with those confused eyes. Then came the moments where you’d walk past him in the hallway, and his fingers would twitch, as if he wanted to reach out but couldn’t figure out how.

It wasn’t until a few nights later, when you climbed into bed without saying a word to him, that Theo realized something was really wrong. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, unable to sleep as the weight of his own actions pressed down on him.

He turned to you, his voice soft, hesitant. "Y/N?"

You hummed in acknowledgment, still facing away from him.

There was a long pause, and then he sighed. "Have I… have I done something to upset you?"

You swallowed hard, the rawness of your emotions rising in your throat. "You told me I was being clingy. I’m just giving you the space you asked for."

Theo flinched at the reminder of his harsh words, guilt flooding his chest. He had been so wrapped up in his own stress, so overwhelmed by the pressure he was under, that he hadn’t realized how cruel he’d been. And now, here you were, doing exactly what he’d asked, and it was killing him.

"I didn’t mean it," Theo said quietly, his voice strained. "I was stressed, and I took it out on you. But that’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t have said that."

You stayed silent for a moment, your heart pounding as his words sank in. Part of you wanted to forgive him, to turn around and let him hold you like he always did when he realized he’d messed up. But the hurt still lingered, and you weren’t sure you could just brush it off like it hadn’t happened.

"You can’t just say things like that, Theo," you whispered, your voice trembling. "It hurts."

He shifted closer to you, hesitantly placing a hand on your arm. "I know. I’m sorry." His thumb rubbed small, apologetic circles against your skin, and you could hear the regret in his voice, thick and heavy. "I don’t want space from you. I need you. I always need you."

Your breath hitched, and you finally turned to face him. His eyes were soft, filled with a kind of vulnerability that Theo rarely showed. It tugged at your heartstrings, and despite everything, you could see how much he wanted to make it right.

"I’m not just something you can push away when things get tough," you said softly, but firmly. "I’m here because I love you. But I can’t keep putting myself out there if you’re just going to shut me down."

Theo’s face crumpled slightly, and he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. "I know," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "I promise I’ll do better. I don’t want to push you away."

You stayed there for a moment, the two of you breathing in sync, the tension between you slowly easing as the apology hung in the air. His arms wrapped around you then, gently this time, like he was afraid you might slip away if he held you too tight.

After a few moments, you let yourself melt into his embrace, allowing him to pull you back into the warmth you’d missed. "I missed you," Theo murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "I’m sorry I made you feel like you were too much when you were exactly what I needed."

You exhaled softly, your head resting against his chest as you felt his heartbeat against your cheek. "Just… don’t do it again."

"I won’t," he promised, his voice resolute. "I swear."

And for the first time in days, the distance between you began to fade, replaced by the quiet comfort of knowing that you were still the most important thing to him, even when he didn’t always know how to show it.

[kithtaehyung]

minted: two (explicit) | myg

title: minted: two (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: one | masterlist rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , action ; haegeum au , gang au summary: after a whirlwind of a detour, you have second and third thoughts about the guy you saved. who even is this man? and what the hell is in that bag? note: holy shit, y’all. thank you so much for the love on this series already! it’s been a minute since we started a new series here, so nerves were firing on all cylinders. but you all showed out and gave me enormous relief and motivation to keep going, so thank you! note 2: as always, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, trauma/pstd, poor reader :(((, but also YES READER???, tension to the max, inner turmoil, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, yoongi visuals in this one areeee… a ha ha, did i mention tension?, tense situations, crass af yoongi lol, reader is also a baddie but who is shocked, slow burnnnn drop date: september 30th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.8k help me @ god

-

-

There’s something to be said about the human gut. 

Not for being the source of multiple health aspects, nor the way it’s connected to the brain. 

But, other than when violence tears it to shreds, it can be quite the defense mechanism. Just like yours churns and churns with each mechanical click of the elevator shaft.

Who is this person next to you? 

Who exactly did you decide to follow upstairs hours ago, killing your daily life to save and join on the run? 

You don’t know if you release your hand or if Yoongi lets it fall, but you take this unlinking to create space. As you slide your gaze toward your companion, he merely shifts his weight and finds interest in increasing, beeping numbers.

How can someone’s profile be so troublingly handsome? You’d be able to think more clearly if he wasn’t both attractive and dangerous. Or if you simply weren’t on the verge of collapse.

Frankly, if you didn’t just murder a man you’d pass out as soon as you took too long to blink. 

To keep yourself alert—and to hopefully gather some much needed intel—you suddenly question aloud, “Where are we?”

No answer.

Alright.

“That driver called you Agust,” you recap on a second go. “What was that about?”

All Yoongi does is stare at his reflection in opulent, dim mirrored walls. Or whatever else he’s doing besides talking. 

Okay. Well.

You can face forward, too. 

“Those guys after us,” you try a third time, because who are you to give up now even if he radiates annoyance. “They didn’t look like Crane.”

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t.”

Your neck almost snaps when you turn. “Are you kidding me?”

As you watch Yoongi scorn the ceiling again, you can’t believe he doesn’t agree. 

Mm. Does he?

From the flex of his jaw, you have to assume you’re right to some degree. Because it looks like he’s very, very bothered by the people that chased you down. 

If those weren’t any of the high-powers but had equal resources and numbers…

What the hell were they? Where did they even come from?

Geez, it’s freezing. Is a drop in temperature the best barrier to you making sense of things? You can’t even appreciate the way Yoongi’s veins protrude with every adjustment he makes to that mysterious duffle bag.

Lies. You absolutely can. But there’s no way in hell you’re ever complimenting that. Or anything about him anymore because he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you! 

Why did he even hold your hand? Was that just a ploy, too? 

But that taxi drive…

Yoongi looks down before lightly scuffing his shoe, and both of you fall silent as you finally give up with a huff. 

Massively dehydrated. Sore. Still covered in a myriad of unmentionables and now being ignored by the guy you saved. 

All you wanna do is go home, and you don’t even know where that is. 

How far did you travel? What district is this? You’ve never heard of a grey zone, but they seem fairly peaceful even at night. Neutral enough for you to consider relocating even if it meant sleeping on the street.

That brings up another question. “If we’re in a grey zone, how did you know—”

A ding interrupts your last thought, and you look to see where you ended up.

But the elevator doesn’t say a number. Only letters? What kinda floor did you stop on? 

One thing’s for sure, though. Whatever room you end up getting, if there’s only one bed you’re hogging it or taking the…

Floor…

There are many things that have shocked you in your lifetime. Many things just from today that had your head positively and forever reeling. 

But when the elevator doors slide open, you can’t even fathom what the fuck you’re dealing with. 

And in this second, more than ever, you understand how ludicrously out of your element you really are. 

“Holy shit,” you blurt, barely hearing the huff at your side.

Don’t elevators usually open up to hallways? Why are you walking into an entire living space? Is this a real place people choose to sleep in for a night? A whole floor?

Forget a whole floor, it’s a whole other place.

You slowly survey everything, wondering how much this has to be because you have never seen a living space so big. Or pretty. Or anything like this.

The ceilings vault and the furniture looks nothing like you’ve ever seen. Everything looks pristine. Clean. Is that a whole kitchen?

How are there living arrangements this big? This one place is bigger than your entire apartment level back home. 

And here you are: speechless, virtually homeless, and dragging your filth onto white marble floors. 

Perfect.

“What.” 

You turn at the scrape of Yoongi’s voice, wondering why now is when he finally chooses to acknowledge you. Head pounding, you ask outright, “Who… Who even are you? What is this place?”

He levels your stare before walking towards a long couch, dumping the duffle and raking his hair back in minted waves. “There’s a shower in every bedroom. Take your pick.” 

…Is that really his only response?

“That’s not what I asked,” you fire back, wondering what the hell his problem is so you can add more out of spite.

“But it’s what you need.”

“Say what now?” 

The fucking nerve? Even though you obviously, desperately need one, hearing him mention it makes you wanna re-use the chopsticks in your pocket. 

But Yoongi simply waves you off, grabbing a remote and flicking on a television so wide you would struggle to reach both ends. 

This is all too much. 

“You know what I need? To go home,” you huff out, leaving fire in your determined trek to the elevator. “Have a nice life, Yoongi. Or Agust. Whoever the fuck you are.” 

You get to the door and run into a dirt-slicked forearm. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”

“You serious?”

“Yes, I am. So move.”

Yoongi pauses, jaw working overtime before he steps aside—wait he’s gonna let you go that easily? 

…Oh.

That was certainly not what you expected, but what else would you even think? This isn’t one of those stories that ends perfectly after trials and tribulations. Yoongi has proven more than once—in mere hours—that he’s no regular civilian. 

But despite that, you blink before freezing at a terrible realization. 

No matter how you slice it, you’re much better off with him right now than you are by yourself. Even if he is a secretive criminal with a smoking gun. 

He did keep you alive that whole chase.

But there’s the smallest, tiniest chance that you aren’t quite safe with him, either. You don’t even know who this man is anymore—maybe you never did.

So in a quick decision, you skim his side to slap the elevator button, chucking daggers at his brows until he leaves you to wait alone.

Good. You don’t need this. You can find your way back to your city block somehow and live the life you’ve chosen to lead again. 

Yes. You can do all of that by yourself. The chase is done. 

And so is your story with the man that will never buy your tangerines again. 

Grabbing your sleeve, a second fact stings your fingers. A jacket woven in Dragon teal. 

Shit. You need to ditch this, too. Either right now, or before you get the hell out of this grey zone because if you don’t, this is the biggest target you could ever have on your back. 

No good. No good no good you didn’t plan any of this well at all. Fucking pride blinding you to everything else logical. Is this how your story ends? Because of regret and resistance? 

You wait for the sliding doors, about to leave the biggest room you’ll ever see to occupy a box. How poetic. 

Your heart pounds as you close your eyes. Yoongi just cut you loose; it’s obvious he doesn’t care so why should you? No going back now. You’ll figure it out. The doors are finally opening. 

And someone’s inside?

Wait.

Your brain both whirrs and skids to a halt at the sight of the staff member occupying the elevator. When they give you a look, you find your hand drifting towards your back pocket.

Fucking hell, relax. You should be safe with a staff member, right? They wouldn’t be out to kill you. This is just your adrenaline on its haunches. 

However, one foot in the elevator and your senses go haywire. 

Because you can’t do this alone. You aren’t nearly as prepared to brave this foreign space as you need to be. With red in your hands and Dragon on your back? Absolutely not. 

You bow to the hotel staff before you face forward into the expanse. 

And as the doors start to close, you see Yoongi’s stare over his shoulder, storming with emotions you can’t name.

Yeah, you fucked up.

Fuck. 

Fuck you actually made a big mistake go back don’t let the elevator close shit—

As you lunge for the door, you get your arm through to block it from closing, turning to the employee inside and seeing their expression change. 

What was that about?

“Sorry,” you blurt to their pressed and polished grey uniform. “I forgot something inside.”

“I can wait, Miss,” they immediately offer, to which you politely and cautiously decline. 

“No need.” When you step out of the elevator, something happens that you think about hours and hours later. “I’ll come down when I’m ready, thank you.”

You can suddenly breathe again. Why was it so stuffy in there?

The worker bows stiff. “As you wish.” 

Without pause, you nod, waiting until the doors close to face someone turned away.

Ugh. It’s like Yoongi knew you weren’t gonna leave. Either that, or he really didn’t give a crap about what you did at all.

Either way, fuck this guy and fuck your indecisive ass!

In full aggravation, you march through the entrance before grating out, “You’re lucky I—”

“Shower.”

“What?”

“The blood,” he calmly breathes. “If you’re gonna hit the streets, wash it out.” 

“It isn’t mine.”

“I know.”

Your mouth snaps shut. 

Fuck. Yoongi’s right. 

“Okay. Well,” you scoff, “Good point but how can I trust you to not do anything.” 

When he tilts his head with a bored, unamused, borderline ticked off expression, you almost scoff before he drawls, 

“Not interested.” 

Oh. He’s… 

Oh. 

But the taxi and the hand-holding and the the the kiss what the hell? Was your liplock not up to this Dragon’s standards? Why are you questioning something so trivial? 

The nerve. You plunge your shoulders in exasperation, hating how you chose to put yourself in another situation with this pain in the ass and he isn’t even… “I swear to—You know what? Good. Not interested, either.”

A lie. 

Scrambling, your stomach speaks the next sentence for you, “But there better be food when I come out cus you robbed me of lunch today. So do something about that.” 

Fucking hell you do not need his lips to quirk up so deliciously. That one look completely offsets what he just said and annoyingly tickles your core. 

Stop. Focus. You cannot entertain any of those thoughts so ignore him and find a bedroom. 

Opening the first door you can see, you continue your tirade, “And no more stealing my chopsticks.”

“Closet.”

Of course it’s a closet! Shutting it with force, you let out a high curse. “Who needs a closet here? Whatever, just—figure it out, I’m starving.”

“Yes, princess.”

You flick Yoongi off as you blaze down the hall, not even knowing nor caring if he sees or not. 

The next door works, and you shut him out before falling back onto its weight, so fraught with emotion that you can’t even register the appearance of the room. 

Today has aged you multiple years. So much has transpired ever since this afternoon that you can’t even think in straight nor curved lines. As soon as you remember something, another thought juts between. Why are you simultaneously thinking about dingy, stained floors while agonizing over Yoongi’s lips? Is there a place other than hell or heaven you can settle on? 

As soon as you’re physically and mentally patched, you are out of here. 

The plan is simple. Shower, eat, give this man a piece of your manic mind, then go home.

Although… It would be nice to at least know what’s in that duffle. If it’s something worth taking you could finesse a piece of the loot. 

Swallowing dry, you push yourself off the door and finally notice a flood of ambient light. 

At your side, you come across an expansive bathroom, eyeing the wall-to-wall entrance before taking in the center shower with disdain and awe.

The whole setup is lavish. 

Does the water just fall straight from the ceiling and into that large square tub? This looks nothing like your cramped, chipped one back home. There’s even lush plants lining the area and towels already folded nearby for use. 

Maybe you did get killed on the run and you’re in some type of dreamworld. 

Too bad you aren’t alone.

As you drag tired feet onto heated tile, you search for the shower knobs, realizing you have a whole panel to work with instead. 

Uhh. 

What. 

You quickly find that one button blows water like a hose straight from the top, scaring you so bad you jump. When you hastily try another, something whirrs in the floor that has your brows kissing—

“You good?”

Fuck!

You flinch and hit the wall, groaning when you see Yoongi lazily resting against one side of the bathroom entrance. Both of your voices echo in the extravagant interior.

“You ever knock?”

“No.”

“Shocker.”

He walks up the tiny steps, and you’re more than relieved you’re still wearing his jacket. When he gets closer, you turn and face the panel, “I can figure it out.”

“Move.”

You get slightly displaced as he gets close, resting a hand on the wall while bending to operate the buttons. As you inhale his musk, you respond to his second question instead of his first. “What?”

“Is this fine,” he repeats, checking the settings before turning to the shower area.

Oh. Wow. It’s a lot more than fine.

A circle of rain falls into a beautifully lighted tub, steam wafting through the glow and coating your skin. 

You’re so entranced that you are quite literally left speechless. Skirting around your present company, you gaze up, down, silently observing the plants sway with the shower air. 

Strangely, this whole bathroom makes everything you’ve seen today believable because of the sheer wonder of it all. It’s almost enough to make you forget what you’ve done. 

Almost. 

When you pause, you see Yoongi watching your face from beyond the rainfall. And he looks so handsome, even now, not doing a thing. 

Is it because he’s clearly roughed up but still so poised? Very unlike you in your banged up, dirty state? 

Huffing, you fold your arms a little too harshly—out of jealousy or whatever else, who is to say. “I’m good now,” you proclaim, keeping your walls high. “I can do the rest myself.” 

Again with that little slant. 

Ignore him ignore him. If Yoongi keeps doing that, you’re really gonna have to brave the outside world instead of dying by smirk. A tub has never been so interesting in your life. 

“Suit yourself.”

You look up again.

But he’s already left you alone.

Solely to undress and contemplate what the hell he implied by that.

Why did you walk left today instead of right?

Under scorching rain in the middle of luxury, this is the question you repeat in your head. Watching all the burnt streams of your decision swirl, and swirl, and swirl. 

The blood will never wash out.

Does the price of saving a life have to be this high? It must be somewhat divine, being that in order to save, you took. If only there was another way to achieve that end goal. Though there’s no way to do it all over again to be sure.

Staring at four chopsticks on the ground, you try to assure yourself. You need to.

Because at least you succeeded. 

But will your price be more damning because of the one you saved? 

Rushing water mutes your hearing as it pours onto sore limbs. When you reach for the scrub for a third time, you make sure to really dig, scraping at every. Single. Inch. In a last attempt to cleanse yourself completely.

Knowing that even after the water runs clear, you still see nothing but red.

You chose left today.

If you had chosen right… 

Doesn’t matter. 

Your palm tingles.

Blood never really washes out.

Holy fuck, you don’t have clothes to change into.

Wrapping yourself in plush material, you hastily pad around freezing floors as you think of a plan.

You can’t just ask for them. How would Yoongi even have any for you? The jacket was more than enough borrowing for today and you’re in a hotel room, not his place.

Thank the universe.  

But the matter is pretty urgent. Because you’d rather burn your belongings before putting them on again. Which leaves zero clothing and a thousand issues. Fuck. 

Dragging feet to the massive sliding doors, you steel your resolve. Hoist your shields back upright. 

Because there’s no choice. You’re just gonna have to dread another conversation with this man. An embarrassing, awkward, unprecedented shit why is he in the bedroom!

You flinch backward as you slam the door closed. Peeking out, you gawk, “What the hell are you—?”

Did Yoongi just pocket a phone?

The duffle rests at his feet. 

Wait. Did he stay in here while you showered? Thank god you had the foresight to slide all the doors shut because you definitely spent a lot of your time scrubbing like mad or standing completely still. 

No. Yoongi’s hair is wet, so he did shower at some point. And he’s donning a robe, which is precisely what made you slam the door shut. 

How can he look like royalty wearing that? The material is quite lush and silken, but still plain. It makes no fucking sense and you wanna rip it right off—

Gathering yourself, you rush out, “Why are you in here?”

“You took too long.”

“So? That doesn’t—”

“In my shower.”

Wait. What? “Oh.” 

You slide the door open a little more to check his claim. And now that you finally see the room, you can tell it’s clearly been used already, clothes and bottles scattered about. “You said pick one.” 

“I did.” Yoongi turns to drop something onto a dark comforter. “Figured you picked it on purpose.”

“No, I… I didn’t notice the room.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says after a brief look your way. “Not sharing the bed, though.”

“No need,” you snip. “I’m leaving soon.” 

Motherfucker. Yoongi only regards his sheets with a smile that triggers your fight response. And you almost—almost—drop the towel. 

Speaking of. How are you even standing in his vicinity with only a single piece of cloth? Are you seriously that exhausted you didn’t even think twice about it?

Suddenly very, very aware of yourself, you squeak, “Umm.” He waits. “I don’t have any clothes.” 

“That’s what you get for kicking me out so quick.”

Your jaw hits the floor. “So what, I’m walking around with a towel? Are you out of your mind? If you think I’m some—”

“Fuck, relax,” he slowly groans to the ceiling. “I was gonna say there’s robes in the closet.” 

You snap your mouth closed so hard it jangles. “Then just say that!” And you slam the partition closed before fast walking to find them. 

Missing the way Yoongi huffs before staring hard at his bedroom door.

On your second arrival into his room, your steps and demeanor are a lot calmer. 

Is it because he’s a lot calmer, too? Maybe. Is it also because you smell food, realizing he did exactly what you wanted? Maybe more so. 

Noticing a table situated near balcony doors, you blink before regarding Yoongi’s sitting form on one of the chairs outside. 

A man lounging while smoking in a robe should not be this alluring. And yet, that’s the only word you can think of to describe him.  

Throat drying and aching, you slowly walk over and take a seat, already ravenous enough to dive into broth head first. But you eye Yoongi while retrieving new chopsticks, scowling when all he does is flash teeth through the glass.

Do not engage do not engage do not engage. 

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your— 

“You’re really mad about that, huh.”

You snap your head up to see him leaning on the doorway. “I was hungry.”

“There was a cup of them on your table.”

“So why didn’t you grab those instead!” 

Yoongi ticks his brows before peering into the night. And he stays like that for awhile, letting a breeze lift his damp locks. “Didn’t expect to see you there,” he admits. “Gotta say you threw me off.”

Nu uh. No more heart skips for today. “I didn’t expect to see you, either,” you too choose to be honest. “Thought I’d never see you again.”

“You were going to.”

As curious brows furrow, you break your utensils apart. “Figured something happened.” Guess you’re being honest about a lot of things. “Or you found another tangerine girl.” 

Yoongi holds his look before taking a drag, smoke spiraling around his words, “Why were you even over there? You’re a bit far from Crane.”

You blink at his deflection.

What was that about? What is that look for? 

Holding his gaze because you aren’t done challenging him, you calmly answer, “I was shopping.”

“Shopping.”

“Mmhmm.” 

Falling silent, he observes a little longer before flicking ash off his cigarette. 

And just like that, the conversation dies. 

It’s for the best anyways. If Yoongi kept prying, he was gonna get closer to the truth. And you wanna slip around that as much as possible. 

But he keeps standing in the doorway, inked arm bending as he breathes in smoke. Donned in a dark robe and topped in teal, he suits Dragon perfectly. Way too perfectly. 

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your noodles instead. 

Your noodles.

Your noodles. 

You’re not hungry anymore. 

Something horrid jams up your throat, and you run through your day in flashes. The restaurant. The food. Dragons. The chopsticks. The kill. The chase. Yoongi. The kill the kill the kill. 

Dirt and shouts and lifeless lips clog your hearing, and your grip loosens completely as your vision shakes and shakes why couldn’t Yoongi have gotten anything else why does it have to be—

A hand. 

A robed arm. 

Your new utensils come back into view. 

But when you face reality, you don’t see them put them back into your hand. You don’t even see them dug in your noodles and left there. 

Instead, you watch as Yoongi plants one palm on the table, slowly lifting strands from the bowl and staring right into your eyes, 

“Eat.” 

Words. Get them out. Something something communication. Key is communication. What the fuck is happening to your brain? 

“I can’t,” you finally croak out. “I’m not.. I’m not hungry.” 

“You are.” 

“Not anymore.” 

Nose scrunching, Yoongi suddenly drops the food and dumps himself on the chair nearest, stretching his leg and revealing a littering of scars. “Didn’t know you were fine with wasting food.” 

The icy descent of his tone freezes your bones.

“Thought you of all people would hate that.” 

“I—I’m not—It’s not that—”

“Then eat.” 

“I literally can’t—” 

“Water. Food. If you’re gonna waste all my shit, then leave.” 

“What?” 

Is he serious? You’re in the midst of post-traumatic shock and he can’t take the hint? You’re so appalled by this man that you can’t even think straight. 

“You heard me. Stop acting like you didn’t.” 

“Oh, I heard you,” you snap. “Just double-checking what the fuck you said.” 

“So you gonna leave or just sit there? If you’re staying I’ll just walk out the roo—”

“Don’t.” 

Both of you still at your words.

And you have to force your palms to unfurl on your quivering thighs. One knuckle. Another. Nails leave half-moons in your skin. 

Breath haphazard, you finally break. “Just,” you swallow, hard. “I’m not wasting it just give me a sec.” 

You don’t want to tell Yoongi why you want him to stay. Despite him being the most infuriating person you’ve ever met, it beats the alternative. And you don’t want the alternative. Truthfully, that’s another reason why you left the elevator earlier. 

Yoongi looks pissed as hell. 

But he hasn’t moved. 

And that’s enough to get you to pick up your chopsticks and try again. 

You stare. Stare. Stare. Mustering courage and inhaling all the aromas you indulged in just earlier today. 

Fuck, you wanna hurl. 

“You’re gonna have to get used to this.”

Your gaze snaps to his, brows and thoughts knitted in disbelief. “What?”

“This feeling.” Yoongi looks out the glass doors, hands resting on the arms of his chair. “The faster you do, the better.”

There’s no way he’s serious. Get used to it? What reason would you ever have for doing that? Caustic, you scoff, “Why, so I don’t waste more of your food?”

You’ve never seen someone laugh in a negative way. But he does before sliding his eyes over. “So when you have to do it again, you don’t lock the fuck up hours later.”

You shoot up from your chair, hellbent on oh fuck you stood up too fast. “You—”

Yoongi just watches as you grab the table for balance, wincing from the pangs in your head. Words grind through your teeth, unable to fully form beyond the light assaulting your brain.

“Like I said.”

Palms press against your forehead before you slump back into your chair. 

“It’s better in the long run.” 

Technically, he’s right. It’s better in the long run if you get used to this. 

But there’s no way you can do it again. Who does he think you are? Yoongi’s got to know that you aren’t planning on making this a daily habit. This isn’t you. You only killed to protect somebody. Killed to save the person telling you to basically get over it.

Fucking hell, this sucks.

Frustration and exhaustion sting the corners of your eyes. 

Eat. Build your strength and get the hell out of here. Deal with it deal with it deal with it.  

As you regrettably pick up your chopsticks, you don’t care if your tears season your noodles. And quite frankly, you don’t give a shit if Yoongi watches them fall, too. 

Because they’re liquid anger. Hot trails blazing down your face, hardening into sticky paths and dried rivers. 

“What were you looking for.” 

Your eyes slide up to regard him, his arms folded and brows low. Because of course he doesn’t care about your state, either. Of course he’d rather entertain his curiosity. “Nothing you need to know,” you mutter, banning him from knowing another truth. 

“Did you find it.” 

You swipe at both your eyes.

As spice coats your tongue, Yoongi keeps prying, “Something you needed to go all the way there for?” 

“Fuck off,” you dismiss, slurping and swallowing with ease. “I don’t have to answer you.” 

“You already are,” he responds, confident. “Now tell me. Is there one in particular you need?” 

Wait. You barely gave anything away, so how is Yoongi asking the right questions? There’s no way he actually knows what you were looking for. No way in hell.

This man is more dangerous than you thought. 

“Why do you even care,” is all you choose to say, more focused on your food now because above everything else, it’s quite fantastic. It somewhat reminds you of a past home, and you can’t help but escape to those distinct walls. “It’s irrelevant to you.”

“But I have what you want.” 

You take another bite before stilling, looking up to see Yoongi propping his head with roughed knuckles. “You’re lying,” you drawl to his smugness, trying to act as if he didn’t just figure you all the way out. Because he didn’t. There’s no way. “And I’m still leaving.”

“If you stay, I’ll show you.” 

When you leer over your soup, he simply stares back with no hint of emotion. 

And you’re so curious about what he means that you finish your whole bowl. 

When you push it forward, you understand exactly what Yoongi did. It worked perfectly, and you have to hand it to him even though he mangled your character minutes beforehand. “Thank you,” you offer some manners. “This was goo—”

The scrape of a chair cuts you off, and your sentence dies in midair as you watch your runaway partner vacate his seat. 

Good riddance.

He knows how to stay on your bad side, that’s for damn sure. 

But Yoongi simply heads back out to the balcony for another light. So you chalk up his swift exit to vices and not wanting to breathe your air. Or maybe he’s done with his fun and is already writing you off before you head out. 

Clearing your bowl from the table, you walk out of the bedroom and bring it to the large kitchen, noting with a scowl that it’s obnoxiously bigger than half your floorplan back home. 

Yearning pierces right through your chest. 

The elevator is right over there. 

You showered, you ate. You can leave as soon as you clean your dish.

Are you way too curious about what Yoongi’s gonna show you? Yes. But is that gonna stop you from getting out of here? No. 

Well. This robe is hugging your figure perfectly and feels way too comfortable to just use for an hour or so… Plus, if you ditched it now, Mister Morals will scorn you for wasting that away, too. 

How rude of him to assume that about you. Of course you aren’t wasteful. The only times you let things go are when you absolutely have to, like you should have back in that noodle shop instead of braving the back staircase. 

Scoffing to no one, you scrub your bowl in the sink, grunting explicatives and stabbing Yoongi with curses until you hear a distinct beep. 

Was that the elevator?

You cut the water off with a twist.

Cautiously, you make your way across the kitchen, peeking around the corner to appease your curiosity and spike your anxiety. 

A bellhop? Another grey uniform looking to and fro to survey the area. It’s the same person that sent a look of panic your way before you went up to the room. 

And your defense mechanism blares. 

But before you can hide behind the partition, their eyes lock onto yours. Arm outstretched, the staff is motioning for you to… join them? Why? 

You’re the one bunking with a gangster. Why does this person make you even more uncomfortable? This feeling is just like the one you had when you called the elevator the first time. Was your gut warning you then, too? 

Maybe it’s because you don’t like the staff thinking they can come in unannounced. Grey zone etiquette or not, you can’t see how this is ever appropriate. In fact, it poses so many safety concerns. How is this okay? 

Walking into the foyer, you rest a hand on a robed hip. “Can I help you?” 

“I’m the one trying to help you,” they whisper, harsh and with another swipe of their hand. “You have to get out while you can.” 

Wait. What do they mean while you can? “And why’s that?” 

Sputtering, the bellhop sticks one foot out the elevator while pleading and, for some reason, that pisses you all the way off. “There’s no time to—”

“Get. Your foot. Off my floor.” 

Is that fear in their eyes or surprise? “Oh, apologies. I didn’t realize you were… I thought—”

“Thought what?” Your arms fold, weight shifting to your other tired foot. “Speak up.” 

Frankly, you don’t know where this newfound energy is coming from. All you know is that there are certain things you still despise and this person is ticking all the boxes. 

“I thought you were taken, Miss. I’m here to save you.” 

Pausing, you grip your arms, feeling silk gather under your palms. 

There’s a lot you tolerate. Many things that a lot of people can’t. But someone assuming you’re the weak one that needs saving? There is no quicker way to lose your interest. 

Stepping towards the elevator, you unfurl your arms, robe swaying and billowing around your freshly showered legs. 

“Yes, that’s right. Come on, we can take you away.” 

Hand on the entrance, you lean forward. “You’re not taking me anywhere,” you command, finger pressing the button at your side. “And you aren’t coming back up here until I say so.” 

Slowly, the doors slide shut, your reflection two halves in the metal shine. 

Well. 

So much for leaving. 

You may spend more time here than you thought. 

With more thoughts swirling, you spin, heading back into the kitchen to pick up the same bowl you were washing. Hoping you and your gut made the right call. 

Yoongi’s a criminal and a madman. But he’s not… the worst. At least, not horrible enough to warrant someone coming up to steal you away.

Besides. Is Yoongi aware that staff can come and go as they please? He seems like the type of guy that would hate that. 

Staying vigilant seems to be a little more important now. 

It’s soon after, when you’re placing the dish somewhere to dry, that you hear noise in the living room beyond the countertop. Looking up, you see someone much more familiar enter the space. 

Hmm. Whatever’s in that duffle must be worth millions for Yoongi to lug it around everywhere. 

As he dumps it next to the couch again, you don’t choose to ask about it just yet. Only because you want to ease into it later when you’re both not at each other’s throats. And while you’re not reeling from another strange encounter at the elevator. 

So you go with a safer question instead, choosing not mention what just happened. “Is this whole floor… your place?”

Yoongi looks up. “Only when I need it to be.”

Interesting. “Does anyone else know about it—”

“Do you always ask this many questions?”

You blink. “I mean. I don’t get by selling fruit cus I’m quiet.”

“You’re quiet with me.”

“And even then I get you to talk.”

Yoongi frowns slightly before moving away, more towards the sliding door leading out to another outdoor area. 

God, this place is obnoxiously huge. There’s still a whole other half you haven’t seen yet. 

When you peer out, you watch as he leans against the railing, seeming to look both up at the building and down at the streets below. 

Well. If you aren’t leaving anytime soon, may as well offer some sort of peace offering. Maybe the two of you just need to chill the fuck out. 

Rummaging through the kitchen, you manage to find some high quality beer in the fridge. On your walk to the sliding glass, you’re reminded of the time you gave him one before when he helped fix your cart. 

That was so long ago. 

You’re so lost in thought that you barely register Yoongi whipping a hand to his waist when you walk outside. But you catch the metal just in time. 

“It’s me!” you quickly alert before regressing back to annoyance, “Really…”

You’ve had way too much to deal with today. You don’t need a bullet in your chest to be another problem. 

Especially since his little maneuver showed a bit more skin than you meant to see.

Yoongi eyes you before his shoulders rest, and you stride forward to offer up the cold can in your palm. 

But you decide to hesitate while he goes to grab it, and you instead open it to have some. 

Ugh. High quality, your ass. This one is way too bitter. 

Your companion snorts as you make up an excuse, “I’ve had better.” 

“Do you even drink?” 

“Well, yeah,” you pout. Needing to prove it, you decide to keep the can. “Lemme try again.”

Somehow, this leads to you sharing the beer with him, tasting the mix of alcohol and smoke even after he tosses another cigarette off the ledge.

It’s not quite enough to forget, but it’s certainly helping. Observing the clouds so close and the city so far beneath your toes is extremely calming. It’s almost like you’re flying. 

“It’s different here,” you mention out of the blue.

“This sector?” 

“This high up.” Breathing in altitude, you sigh. “I’ve never been higher than my fourth story. It’s nice.” 

“It’s usually silent, too.” 

Your eyes slightly stab. “Whatever. You like having me around and just won’t admit it.” At this, Yoongi avoids direct contact. “Mmhmm. Don’t even try to hide it.” 

“You’re useful to me.” You freeze. “That’s why you’re here.” 

You shake your head. For someone deeming you useful, Yoongi’s pretty nonchalant about you dipping. Taking a tangy sip, you clarify, “But you don’t care if I leave? If someone comes to take me?”  

He takes the offered can. “Mm.” 

That answers that.

You should probably still tell him about what happened, though. His reaction could give more away than his words.

Instead, you drink in the night with your eyes. Knowing that you should know better about the company present. 

The more you converse with Yoongi, the more you pick up. And one of those sad facts is that he doesn’t give a shit about anything you do or don’t do. Because all he really cares about is what he needs. 

You can’t do anything to change him. Fix him. Whatever exists in fairytales. So you decide to take the night in stride. Not give a shit about him, either, per se. 

Your curiosity gets the better of you now. Not just about what he’s gonna show you, but about that duffle. You quite literally don’t have anything to lose anymore, so may as well go for the question you’ve been wanting to ask all day. 

“I was gonna ask for a cut of that,” you divulge with a head-tilt to the bag. “But figured you won’t even show me.” 

“Why not?” 

“Uhh.” You didn’t expect this. “You don’t like questions? You’re always secretive?” 

“Never talk to the streets, princess. They’ll snitch on everything you say.”  

“That’s deep,” you admit, taking a once full beer in your palm. “But I’m no snitch.”

“I know.” 

Your look carries a slight pang. 

“Come here.” Both of you walk inside as he plays with his lighter. When you round the couch, Yoongi dumps the bag right onto the cushions. “If you wanna see what’s in here, do it.” 

You stare before slowly walking forward and kneeling to unzip the bag. As your slide reveals the contents, you’re nervous about what you’ll see. 

But when it’s open, you freeze. 

It’s all…chil-don? Tons of money wrapped in sleek stacks with edges so… Crisp. New. 

Wait. 

These patterns. 

These are il-don? 

Holy fucking shit there’s no way these are real. This is currency seven generations old. The first ever of the established system. Worth more than anything in current circulation, especially in their pristine state. Forget being worth millions, these are next to priceless. 

You’ve never seen them like this.

“They’re some of the last in mint condition.” 

The shock value is so high you forgot you were alone. Slowly turning, your breath catches as you ask, “How did you know where to find these?” 

“Like I said,” he drones. “Streets talk.” 

You look at the bills before glancing back up. “Can I…?” 

Yoongi cocks a brow before angling his mouth. “Touch them? Do what you want, doll.” 

You blink at the name this time. Because him saying that with a fresh cig in his lips is making your stomach flutter. 

Picking up a fresh stack, you inspect the ancient pattern inlay with eyes wide, admiring how paper so old can have such detailed engravings. “These can’t be real.” 

“They are.” He shifts. “And most people never see one in their lifetime.”

You put the money back on the pile inside. Yes, these have got to be worth a fortune. But there’s nothing else in the bag? No drugs, no lethal substances, anything? “Wait, so. This is it?” 

Yoongi fully laughs before flicking his lighter again. “You want something else?” 

“No, I—” You back away. “There’s really nothing else in there?” 

Coolly, he lights up before taking the initial drag. “Nah.” 

Smoke spirals around you. “I dunno what I expected but it wasn’t that.”

Yoongi lets a wisp leave his mouth. You know it’s getting in your robe, but caring about the little things has now jumped out the window. “Whatever’s in that bag can feed half the city.” 

“What?” As you look, he walks over to what looks like a small section of a bar. “Is that why you stole it?”

“Stole it?” Yoongi grins and shakes his head. “Sure. That’s why we stole it.”

“We? Leave me out of this.”

“Too late.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You step forward in anger, but you only get a sound out before Yoongi straightens, aura blazing,

“I—”

“Say I do leave you out of it. Nothing happened tonight, according to me.” He discards his fresh light in an ashtray, watching it die before sliding his gaze your way. “Doesn’t mean whoever we just fought will suddenly leave you alone.”

Shit. He has a point. You ran for so long and fought plenty of those guys.

Is this what he meant? Getting used to that feeling? Maybe your consequence is joining the cycle of the damned, forced to kill in order to protect. Both others and now yourself. 

“But I’m… Just a nobody. A civilian, I…”

Yoongi walks until he’s in front of you, hand cupping your chin and voice whispering mortifying allegations in your ear, 

“You took a body for a Dragon, love. You’re not a civilian anymore.”

Your arms shove him backward without pause, face distraught as you watch his smirk bounce with his shoulders. His cackle echoes mad through the room, pinging the floors and piercing through your robe. 

Truthfully, it doesn’t even feel like you’re wearing one. So naked and exposed in the open for this man to see. “You’re despicable.”

“That right?” His mouth sets as his lids lower. “And what about the one that killed and kept running?”

What.

“There was a police car at the restaurant,” Yoongi continues, a reminder so sharp it slices clean. “Yet you didn’t turn yourself in.”

Your feet sink into the rug beneath. “That’s not…” 

With measured steps, he stalks forward, a harbinger of horrific realizations that you don’t want to hear, “You didn’t have to keep running. Didn’t have to get in that taxi.”

Stepping back, you find the room so stuffy it’s hard to move. “You—”

“Could’ve taken another train.” 

“Stop.”

“Could’ve stayed in that elevator.”

What the fuck is happening right now? 

Yoongi’s close. Very much too close, and the energy he radiates sets your instincts ablaze.

This is the man you’ve been pining over this whole time? If you ever get back home, you have got to remind yourself to avoid him at all costs. There’s nothing good for you if you stay. Danger surrounds every inch of him, and there’s no telling when you’ll take collateral damage.

“But you didn’t,” he delivers the final blow. “And you’re still here.” 

Lifting your chin, Yoongi grins slow when you yank away. 

“I should’ve never saved you.” Gaze finally locked, you growl from within, letting a monster loose, 

“I should’ve left you for dead.” 

Wait. 

Stop. 

This isn’t you. This isn’t who you are. You’re a helper. A healer. Those words came out so strange that you’re questioning how they left your mouth so freely.

Did you really mean that? Or was this some feeble attempt to hurt him?

Yoongi doesn’t seem phased. But you clearly don’t know him so it’s not like—

Something heavy and dark as fuck is placed in your hand, and you snap your eyes to his in utmost disbelief.

“Go ahead then.”

Oh, this man is psychotic.

“Be my guest.”

No fucking way you’re gonna do it. “Stop—”

“If you regret it, why waste time—”

“Seriously, I’m not gonna—”

Yoongi forces your fingers flush against metal as he holds the gun to his forehead, both eyes piercing right into yours with no hesitation whatsoever. 

And it is frightening. 

All anger from before flees as fear and intensity rush into its place. Your brain fizzles and cracks as you try to wrestle out of his grip, and you feel burning at the corners of your eyes. “Stop!”

“Why.”

“I’m not gonna shoot you, the fuck!”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

Mercifully, he lets go, pistol thrown as you’re tugged forward with a—

“What’s stopping you,” he grounds out, formidable presence all-consuming. “Tell me.” 

You’re breathing so hard it hurts. “You”—a shaky heave—“You are out of your fucking mind.”

When you struggle from his grip, Yoongi pulls you even closer. Reacting in a rush, you propel your knee up to wrap around his side and twist. 

But he proves just as quick, gripping the bare skin of your leg as you shove him down against the sofa. Grunting, you both curve with the furniture, Yoongi locked onto your knitted, conflicted brows.  

“You regret saving my life,” he simply repeats to your frustration. “I gave you the chance to fix that.” 

“Shut up—”

“But your will is weak.”

“I swear to—”

“Guess I was wrong.”

Who the hell does he think he is? This guy—Yoongi, Agust, whoever the fuck—has no right to play with you so casually. 

But something else is swirling inside your ribs. Because through his cutthroat words and actions, this man is somehow stirring the deepest waters of your soul. Ripples rumble and stretch into waves, tugging your toes in undercurrents of obsidian. Dark. Primal. Hazardous. All you. 

Is it from being subjected to such a heavy dose of his power? 

Or is it because—even if just for a moment—he’s handing all that power to you?

Quite literally, you’re the one on top.

And Yoongi holds your gaze, unfazed by the way your robe completely spread open during your tumble. Or the fact that you have nothing beneath that silk. 

He could easily take over. From the feel of his build beneath your hands and between your legs, you know he can. 

But he’s not. There’s no hesitation. He’s legitimately giving you the choice and reveals no ounce of remorse.

This revelation courses through your veins, pumping a new kind of life into your palms. You have a shot at a criminal with a bag of il-don waiting to be snatched. And you know you won’t take it. 

And that alone alters the chemistry of your brain.

With more fear of yourself than anything else, you shake out, “If I’m killing you, it’s gonna be entirely my choice.” 

He’s laughing? You’re instigating a threat and he’s enjoying it? God, you are teetering on the brink of madness and another emotion that won’t dare be acknowledged. 

Tugging Yoongi up a notch, you proclaim to the glint of his eyes, 

“And when I do, you’ll die exactly how I want.”

Yoongi’s lips slowly, dreadfully spread, teeth shining in the dim lamp lights that sharpen half his features. When he speaks, you shiver. Because it’s a mix of pride and fear, sprinkled with a hint of alarm,

“That’s my girl.” 

The room quiets, your bodies locked in a way that you’ll remember years from now. Breaths. Your bare chest hovering inches above his. If there were bystanders, they would no doubt get the wrong idea. Because if things were different, and if this man underneath you wasn’t who he was, you’d entertain another type of ferality and not stop until morning. 

To be fair. That same dark part of you would still do it. 

But this is about the righteous part of who you are. The one that abides by the rules. The one that fights to keep days boring, uneventful, the same. 

So you quell that monster pacing in your core. 

One more exhale leaves your lips before you let him drop, sliding off his silken, tone form to quietly readjust your robe. Turning away, you focus on the night skies, wondering if the people back home are sound asleep as you should be. 

“My will may seem weak. But I don’t care what you think of me.” 

Sound is crisp again as Yoongi rises to his feet. Around you, the air starts to lighten, cold slipping delicately into your skin. 

Slowly tying the wrap at your waist, your words float to the ground, “Because I know who I am. And no one can take that from me, not even you.” 

His presence fills the space at your back. But it’s muted. Less intimidating. Or maybe you’re just at your limit because you admit a little more than you intend, 

“This world has already tried enough.” 

Both of you come to another standstill, two black robes staining a room full of white. Even time itself gives you space, slowing and circling until you’re ready for it to flow straight again. 

As a cloud shadows the light of the moon, you feel knuckles caress your neck. And Yoongi’s never sounded so calm as he starts, “They’ll come after you.”

You slightly turn. 

“You still want to go back?”

A pause. A nod.

His knuckles continue to glide along your neck, slipping down your back before traveling the swoop of your shoulder. Everything in your body thrums, silently quaking because you have no idea where this is coming from and you can’t say you hate it. 

Quite the opposite. And that scares you more. 

“If you do, you’re dead to me.”

Of course. You’ve seen and know too much. There’s no reason for him to show up to your street now, especially if tangerines are all he’s looking for. He can always find them anywhere else. 

But, for some reason, this still stings. In a way that irks even your reasonable side. Is it because of his touch? No. That’s only making you nervous from the fact that you probably aren’t… as experienced as he is. The uneasiness is wholly from your own limitations. 

“I’ll survive without you,” you whisper resolute, chest squeezing when he replies,

“I know.” 

The same fingers get bolder, tracing down your arm before sliding along the wrap at your hip. 

And you freeze. 

Because the tension is palpable. The power is intoxicating. It’s a new type of anticipation and you are fighting yourself to not give in. Don’t let everything get to your head. Don’t let anyone in again. Don’t stray onto a path you can’t quite navigate. 

But fuck, you kinda want to. 

Rocks slide against exposed skin when he decides to speak again. And it makes you wish the two of you were extraordinarily normal. Or that you at least knew what the fuck to do here because the attraction you feel is not as one-sided as you presumed. 

“What made you stay.”

A breath you didn’t know you were holding huffs out, and you swallow with difficulty. “I just…” 

Get it together. Keep up your guard. It’s proving so hard, especially when his touches spark fires along your limbs. But you have to. 

And therein comes another lie. “I wanted to know what you stole.” Gulping down the truth, you harden your resolve. “That’s it.” 

With more restraint that you want, Yoongi bunches silk at your pelvis, hitching your robe and your breath all at once. When his other hand slowly holds your neck in place, you can’t help but flinch, and his low hum pours lava straight down your chest, 

“What a shame.”

Oh. Is this how it ends? Did your gut get it all wrong? 

He could end your life with a flick of his wrist. You know far too much. You’re not useful anymore. 

“Someone will take you back tomorrow,” Yoongi murmurs, proving every single theory wrong. “After that, you’re on your own.” 

And just like that, he releases you to stand alone. 

Oh. You’re going home. 

Good.

This is good, right?

Your heart beats overtime, almost drowning out your entire thought process. The thumps and pulses seem to cut every string of consciousness short. 

What was that? What was any of that? 

Never mind. Nothing happened and you can keep it that way, for the better. Yoongi is risk draped in beauty, and once you’re back home you can cut ties with anyone like him for good. You saved him; he spared you. It’s over. 

…But do you want it to be? 

Yes. 

Of course you do. 

Clouds let moonlight shine again. 

When you arrive at an answer, you turn to find that Yoongi’s already gone, duffle and all shut inside his room with a muted click.

A flip switches as you let exhaustion take over completely, falling onto cushions that still hold his scent. Inhaling, you drift into darkness, wondering how your final decision will affect the rest of your days.

Whether awake or asleep, nightmares are real. 

Only this time, you aren’t quite sure if the blood and guts you’re seeing are yours or someone else’s. Can’t discern the limb on the ground from the limb on your torso. Screams echo and ping from all directions, a cacophony of death that has you scratching at mania to stay sane. 

Murderer. Murderer. A murderer that regrets who she saved. No, wait, that’s not true. You’d still do it again.

And you watch the same swing over and over. The same arc of finality. Those lifeless eyes. Closer. Closer. Sharper. Judging. 

You were wrong. Were you wrong? Running does nothing and doesn’t provide an answer. The ground under your toes gives out. 

How far are you straying? How low are you sinking? If you told your neighbors who you killed for, would they be upset or betrayed? 

They’d hate you. Their fingers aim straight. Their tongues fire bullets. 

They’ll hate you. Hate you. Hate you hate you hate you—

A room bursts into view as you jolt awake. Sounds snap silent, the hum of the air all you can hear as you rub your eyes. 

So much for sleeping. There’s no way you’ll be able to now.

Focus on something else. Anything else. The past cannot be undone, so live with the choices you made and deal with the faces that haunt your dreams. 

Staring into the dark, shapes and sharp edges slowly form, your vision sharpening with every passing second. Tiny pops and creaks tickle your eardrums, and Yoongi’s scent still lingers with your own. 

You don’t want to focus on him, but it’s better than what forced you awake.

A lot happened tonight. But also, nothing at all. Something is keeping you both together, tightening and squeezing the strings in your chest. But you don’t know if that’s from the adrenaline of today’s events, or from the pure shock of your unexpected reunion. 

There’s something else you haven’t considered until now. Despite his unorthodox and hellish methods, Yoongi did keep your head on straight. You showered. You ate. You drank. You inhaled fresh air. 

Your compass righted itself when you didn’t blow his brains out. 

The nothingness was all to your advantage. Was that all calculated, too? 

One part of you—the bright side of you—knows that it doesn’t matter. No matter how helpful he was tonight, distance is crucial. Stay away from people like him. They’re all too cunning to be kept close.

But if leaping that crevasse allows you to keep your mind off everything else? If you need to stop the bleeding, why not reach for a cure?

Your exhale shakes as your shoulders fall forward, self-deprecation destroying your brain because what the fuck are you thinking? This is nonsense. Madness. 

Maybe you’ve just been insane from the very start. 

Your breath quickens at the possibilities. The potential outcomes of what you’re about to do. 

This is the most solid decision you’ve made all night.

As your toes travel across plush, trek over marble, and arrive at their destination, the rest of your body quietly, nervously follows. 

Raising your hand, you listen for movement. When you find none, you softly knock and wait for what seems like an eternity. 

For nothing. 

All that worry for naught. Yoongi’s most likely fast asleep and not dreaming at all. 

Good. This is your sign to let it go completely. In the morning, you’re going back home. The nightmares will consume you and you’ll wake up everyday to brave the streets. Assassins will be on the hunt for revenge. You won’t be saved by the boy in teal. 

What a shame, indeed.

As you step to leave, you hear the door slowly swing.

And Yoongi emerges from behind, minted hair mussed over lowered lids and robe slipping down a tatted shoulder. 

Fuck everything. 

“I don’t regret what I did and I’d do it all again,” you admit with finality. To him, to yourself, to the ones you’ll disappoint back home. “And I refuse to get used to this feeling because it reminds me I’m still a good person.” 

Yoongi’s eyes don’t change as he stares. 

“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”  

This is it.

The brink of no return.

Your soul dips into the dark.

“Please make me fucking forget.”

—

—

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: once again, i cannot thank y'all enough for being patient and understanding as i go through life while working on this and all the other writing projects we have going on! it means the world, and even though there were some not-so-fun asks to get, the supporting and wonderful ones are what i will continue to focus on! so if you've ever left something sweet, thought provoking, encouraging, etc - thank you from the bottom of my heart! you're what keeps this writer going. a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ minted masterlist

[strawberrymatchawhore]

baby

summary- babying your "tough" hubby rafe.. maybe some freakydeakyness at the end

note- this is the complete opposite of the rafe ive been writing about LMAOOO.. this man is SO BAD help me

it was 2am and you were in your bedroom scrolling on your phone, a random netflix show playing in the background. you've been waiting for your husband to get home for hours, being the wife to the chief of police did have its negatives. this was one of them.

you heard footsteps walking up the stairs and immediately turned off your phone, throwing the covers over yourself you pretend to be asleep. the door opens and you feel the weight of the bed shift.

"hey baby. sorry for getting home so late" rafe says giving your forehead a kiss, you jokingly ignore him.

"c'mon now i know youre awake.. get up and hold me." he begged tiredly, you couldnt help but giggle at how desperate he sounded.

"fine." you mumbled into the sheets but stayed in your position, he hugs you putting all of his weight on your body.

"okay okayy, i got it. now get off me you fatty." you whined, pushing his large frame off of you. you leaned against the bed frame and opened your arms, the both of you adjusting to a more comfortable position. which was the both of you propped up against a pillow.

"im so tired." he yawns into your chest, you played with his hair as the both of you stayed in silence.

"i know you are, you need a day off. youve been working too hard." validating him, his hand plays with the ribbon of your pajama shorts.

"see? youre still in your uniform, youre gonna make the bed dirty." you patted his back and drew circles on it.

"what, you want me take it off? if you wanted to see me naked you couldve asked sweetheart." he looked up at you and smirked. you glared at him, lightly slapping his arm.

"not what i meant.." you blushed.

"youre so cute you know that rafey, honestly when i look at you i just want to eat you." you confessed and massaged his temples, his face nuzzles into your chest even further. clearly he was blushing as well.

"i dont know how i got so lucky, im so glad i have a such a beautiful boy in my life. everything about you is just perfect." you cooed admiring his sculpted face, the way his plump lips curled into a smile.

"stopppp" he whined. you couldnt help but pull out your phone and take a picture. because if you didnt, who wouldve believe that your 6'2 husband loved to be babied like this? not like you were going to show anyone, its just for your eyes only. you wanted to cherish this moment forever.

"did you just take a picture?"

"let me see it." he shot up and reached for your phone. you put your phone under your pillow and laid on it, making sure he wasnt able to grab it. the two of you started play fighting.

"nooo please, you look so cute. let me keep it!!" you laughed, he started to tickle you. and you slowly started to fall off the bed. your legs wrapped around his waist and dragged him down, if you were gonna fall he was going to come down with you.

the laughing coming from you both died down and you looked up at him, what a funny position. you both were on the floor and he was in between your legs hovering over you.

rafe leaned downed and passionately kissed your lips, his hand starts to play with your shorts. you eventually pull away and slap his hand.

"nuh uh. go shower first. you stink." you got up to your feet then helped your boyfriend get up as well. you looked up at rafe with your head tilted, what was this man plotting?

"not unless you join me.. you cant say no" he quickly said and grabbed you by the waist. hoisting you over his shoulder and carrying you to the master bathroom.

"ahhh! rafe stop!!" you busted out laughing, kicking your feet as he practically dragged you to the shower. he put you down and turned on the warm water, it poured over you both. you furrowed your eyebrows.

"great now my clothes are all wet." you pouted crossing your arms over your now soaked tank top.

"more reason to take it off... lift your arms f'me"

[sescoups]

favorite coworker - choi vernon

masterlist

word count: ~5.3k (i'm so sorry)

summary: vernon is your favorite. he just gets you. of course you can't resist him - not that you would ever want to.

a/n: this is definitely NOT proofread, and i'm sorry. idk i just have the fattest crush on vernon, honestly i can't be held accountable

18+, MDNI!!! warnings under the cut <3

warnings: oral (m. receiving), making out, creepy old man (he doesn't do anything, he's just a creep), mention of vomit, lmk if i missed anything! <3

“Wait so hang on, you mean to tell me you’ve never what..? Gone down on a guy?”

“Oh yell it out, why don’t you,” you groan, smacking your forehead into the counter. Thank fuck you just cleaned it.

Vernon is your coworker at the record store in the middle of the city. He’s super chill, does what he’s supposed to but doesn’t stress out or get pissy if you’re having a bad day and work slowly. He’s great. He’s just… a bit unaware of his surroundings, a lot of the time. You’re lucky only two people are in the store at the moment, or you would have simply passed away.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I just kinda can’t believe it? I mean, you’ve had sex for sure, right?”

“Yes, Vernon.” You roll your eyes and glare at an old man who is shamelessly looking you up and down. “I’ve had sex before. Just not a lot, I guess. And why is it so hard to believe?”

Had he been looking at your face, your raised eyebrow might have tipped him off to the fact that he should drop the topic and back off. Unfortunately, in typical Vernon fashion, he was doodling nonsense on a notepad, so he missed it completely.

“Well I mean, you’re hot,” he said before finally looking up at you. He started tapping his pen against the counter, leaning his weight on one hand against the counter. “You’re also pretty open about your life in general, so I just figured two plus two equals one, you know.”

“What the fu- Vernon. Think about what you just said.”

“Oh fuck. Yeah I deserved to fail math in high school.”

You burst into laughter at his words. This is exactly why you love Vernon, and why he’s your favorite coworker. You’re laughing so hard you barely manage to greet the new customer who just entered the store. Your coworker is smiling, satisfied with his ability to make you laugh.

The old man who is still eyeing you, now with extra focus on your boobs, comes up to the register just as you manage to sober up from your laughing fit. You clear your throat and turn to face him, giving him a tiny smile in the spirit of customer service. Apparently a mistake.

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” he starts, running his tongue over his front teeth in what you suspect is supposed to be a seduction attempt. “Would you mind maybe showing me some of the records you have in the back?”

The smile leaves your face immediately, and you’re about to absolutely emaciate him when Vernon cuts in to make sure you do not lose your job over some smarmy geezer.

“She cannot, sir. It’s store policy. Soz.”

You hold your snort in, but barely. The old man huffs and glares at the man next to you, crossing his arms over his chest. Honestly, you’re curious at this point. You’ve never seen Vernon handle confrontation - again, very chill dude - but you also know he is very protective over his friends.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the old man says with an eye roll. “I was talking to the pretty young lady.”

His smile sends a shiver down your spine, and you take a deep breath. The old man watches your boobs rise and fall. Seriously, fuck this guy. You force the customer service smile back on your face because you actually really like and need this job, and decide this sack of shit isn’t worth it.

“He’s right, sir. It’s against store policy, and I’m currently on register duty. If there is a specific record you wish to see, we can look it up in the system.”

“I’ll keep looking for a while… in case you change your mind.”

The way he winks at you makes your blood boil, and it’s a wonder your teeth don’t crack from the pressure of your jaw. The man walks away, and so does Vernon. He can’t really kick the guy out unless he does something physical, so you don’t know what he’s trying to do. Soon, though, your confusion melts into amusement and glee as you watch your coworker follow the man around the store, loudly dissing his music taste whenever he picks up a record. He keeps walking just a little bit too close for comfort, and after about three minutes, the man gives up.

You take huge pleasure in the way the man skulks out, hands in his pockets and back hunched over as if he’s trying to get away from something - or someone. Returning to the register, Vernon grins to himself and resumes his doodling without a word. You shake your head in amazement before going to help the other two customers in the store.

The next time you’re working with Vernon, you have the closing shift. Usually only one person is supposed to stay back after closing and clean up, but you just received a large shipment of vinyls that need to be sorted and placed into protective sleeves, so the two of you are working overtime together.

It’s a pretty slow shift, and the two of you pass the time by playing music for one another and guessing the artist and the title. You’re much better at it than he is, but only because you’re good at memorizing things; he has a far more varied music taste than you, and would easily have won had he remembered more than two song names and five artists. As per the terms of the game, the loser has to go out to get the dinner you preordered from a restaurant down the street. It’s not far, but it’s raining, so you’re glad to be exempt.

While your colleague is gone, you close out the register and sweep the floor so you only have the vinyl sorting left after you’ve eaten. The break room smells like wet dog and Doritos, so you bring two chairs out together with the foldable table that you’re going to use to sort the vinyls. Since no one is in the store anyway, you can people watch through the windows while you eat.

Vernon comes back in just as you finish setting up, soaking wet from the pouring rain. You coo at him when he shivers, and he shoots you a playful glare. He ends up holding his glare for all of two seconds before a wide smile stretches across his face.

“I left an extra shirt here at some point, do you think it smells like teenage boy?”

You escape the break room with two plates and some utensils in hand, laughing at his question and probably unfortunate fate.

“Because of the proximity to the break room? Probably. That shit is unavoidable.”

He grimaces before taking his jacket off, hanging it on a hook behind the register. He disappears to change while you plate the food, humming to yourself. You try not to think about how he’s probably half naked right now, and turn your attention to the fact that he most likely will smell atrocious to keep your head on straight.

You do love Vernon. He’s a great coworker, obviously, and he’s a great friend too, but that’s not really the full extent of it. You’ve been battling your crush on him for months now, because it’s pretty clear that he isn’t interested in you. Besides, if you ever did date, things would get awkward at work if you broke up. No, he is one of those people who should stay firmly at arm’s length. Unfortunately.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud bang, making you jump a good foot in the air.

“What the fuck, Nonnie?”

“Sorry,” he grimaces, checking that the door he managed to fling directly into the wall hadn’t done any damage. “I tripped.”

“Only you, Vern,” you sigh. “Well, food is ready to go. Let’s eat!”

The meal, consisting of some kimchi jjigae, rice and side salad, passes by in relative silence. You occasionally hum in content, and Vernon often slurps his jjigae really loudly which prompts you to giggle. He always looks glad to have amused you, and you need to look away often in order to control your emotions.

“Dude,” he groans after his third serving, “I’m so fucking full.”

“I’m not the one who got an order for five people, genius,” you groan back, your own stomach feeling like a water balloon. “So good though.”

“So good,” he nods earnestly.

You can’t stand to look at him like this; you need something to do with your hands. So you stand up and stretch, which actually does help the food settle in your stomach a bit. Your hair, tied in a bun to avoid getting any food in it, comes down to release some of the pressure on your scalp, and then you feel ready to get started.

“Take all the time you need, man, but I’m gonna start on the first box. I want to get home before dawn, if I can.”

He flashes you a thumbs up and slumps against the table to enter into a food coma. You scoff at him and shake your head before clearing the dishes from the table. Thank God you have a dishwasher in the break room.

You bring out the first box and start sorting it, referencing the list you have as you go to take inventory. It’s repetitive work, but it’s kind of soothing, too. You do your best to make the plastic of the vinyl coverings crinkle as little as possible, wanting Vernon to rest for as long as he needs to. Three servings of kimchi jjigae would make anyone drowsy.

The first sign that he is still alive comes ten minutes later when he starts drumming a random rhythm on the table. You snort when you recognize the rhythm, pausing with a vinyl halfway into its covering.

“You can’t drum the melody to Dun Dun Dance, Vernon.”

“I can do whatever I want,” he protests weakly, cheek still pressed firmly against the table surface. “But nicely done. What about this one?” He drums out another rhythm, and now that you know it’s a melody he’s following, you recognize it quicker.

“That’s Candy by H.O.T.”

“Nice.”

“You gonna work or rest, bud?”

Vernon whines at your words and rolls his head to rest his forehead against the table instead. You wait patiently as he gathers the strength to sit up properly and kick a box of vinyls over to him when he seems more alive.

“Life isn’t fair,” he pouts, “I just did so much work eating all that food, and now I gotta do more?”

“It’s like that,” you agree absentmindedly, marking off a stack of vinyls on your list. “Can you turn on some music, please? The silence is creepy.”

He nods and connects his phone to the store speakers, choosing the playlist the two of you created together on a similar night of overtime. After that, the two of you slip into a rhythm together, unpacking vinyls, checking the list, and then putting them into a protective sleeve. It’s mostly silent aside from the music, and sometimes Vernon drums along to the beat on the table, but it’s comfortable. You kind of don’t mind spending a few hours like this.

When you’re two thirds through the stack of boxes, you both decide to take a break. Your saint of a colleague brews some coffee, and you hop onto the checkout counter to browse through your phone while your brain cells take a well-deserved rest.

“Bless you,” you say as you accept a mug full of coffee. “We’re making pretty good time today, eh?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, taking a sip and wincing at the scalding temperature. “We haven’t really been talking, so.”

“That jjigae really took you out, huh?”

“Oh yeah.”

You grin at him and blow gently over your coffee. It’s still too hot to drink, as evidenced by the steam rising from it, but the smell alone is kind of waking you up. Vernon grabs your attention by clearing his throat gently, and you turn to look at him. He’s fidgeting a bit with a pen left on the counter close to your thigh.

“I, uh… I wanted to say I’m sorry about that dude the other day. The creepy one. I probably should have kicked him out, but I didn’t know if I could…”

Your heart melted a little in your chest. It was obvious he had been carrying this around with him, mulling it over and worrying about it. About you. It was endearing, and dangerous for your heart. You bit your lip and placed your coffee mug on the counter next to you.

“It’s okay,” you say earnestly. “He sucked, and I was uncomfortable, but you still made him leave. I didn’t feel like I was in danger or anything, so don’t worry about it.”

“I just feel like it’s partially my fault, for kind of yelling about the fact that you’ve never sucked a dick before.” You’re incredibly grateful that you weren’t drinking coffee at that moment, because you definitely would have spat it out all over the floor. His bluntness never ceased to surprise you. It was unbearably adorable. “I should be more aware of my surroundings, especially when talking about something sensitive like that.”

“Well,” you start, pausing thoughtfully. “I don’t really think that man would have acted differently either way, to be honest with you. Men like that are just… like that. I also don’t really care who knows I’ve never given a blowjob before. It doesn’t matter, at the end of the day. I haven’t done it because I haven’t slept with anyone who’s dick I wanted to suck, and that’s all. I just wish I knew how sometimes, you know?”

He shuffles his weight around at your words, shifting from foot to foot. He’s still fumbling with the pen on the counter, but now his fingers are clumsier than usual. You glance up at his face only to find him staring into empty space in front of him. You figure you made him uncomfortable with your oversharing.

“Sorry. That was TMI.”

“No,” he answers quickly. “We share everything. I told you when I threw up on Seungkwan’s lap and cried because I felt bad, didn’t I?” You smile at the reminder and nod. He finally meets your eyes again. “I was just thinking, you know.”

“What about?”

Vernon’s mind is the most fascinating thing to you. The way he thinks is so out of the box and different, and so beautiful. He has shown you the lyrics he writes for his friend Jihoon sometimes, and they’re so poetic you find yourself turning them over in your mind for days afterward. And the best part about it is that he always answers you when you ask what’s going on inside his head. He grants you access to his thoughts and feelings, and it’s the greatest gift you’ve ever received.

“Well. I don’t know if this is going to come off as creepy or not,” he warns, “but I was thinking like… Maybe you should just get it over with.”

“Get what over with?” Your eyebrow rises as you ask the question, and his furrow in response.

“I just mean that you could know how to give a good blowjob, if you wanted to. You could just… pick someone to sleep with. And ask them to teach you. You know?”

“Nonnie,” you start, and your bewildered tone makes him shrink a little. “You really believe the best of people, don’t you?”

“Well- I mean yes, but I didn't mean you should just sleep with anyone. You could just pick someone you already know.”

His words give you pause. You have plenty of friends in possession of a penis, but the thought of sleeping with most of them feels kinda gross. The one exception is… Well, Vernon. And you sincerely doubt that he is offering himself up. So you do what you always do and make a joke to force your mind away from the thought of sucking on your friend’s dick until he cums for you.

“What, are you offering?”

“I mean, yeah,” he shrugs.

You stop breathing. He is actually, genuinely offering to teach you how to suck dick. More specifically, his dick. The one that has been the star of many of your more illicit fantasies. You want to say yes so badly, want to finally get the experience of being something more to him, but you also don’t want to get ahead of yourself. But…

The room is silent while you’re thinking. You feel his eyes on the side of your face, feel the way he’s cataloging every emotion that overtakes your features, and you swallow harshly. Your heart is beating out of your chest and your hands are shaking, and your brain is running a mile a minute with no end in sight.

Then Vernon places his hand on your thigh. His touch is warm but light, ready to pull away as soon as you want him to, but it’s enough to bring your soul back into your body and get a grasp on your thoughts and feelings. You bite your lower lip and breathe in deeply before letting it go. Yeah, you’re doing this.

“I uh, I’m going to need some guidance,” you say, and you almost miss the way your friend’s eyes widen at your words.

“O-Of course. And if you want to stop at any time, just like, tell me, yeah?”

You smile at the comfort his words bring you. “Yeah.”

There is silence once again, but this one is heavy with a different kind of tension. You both know what’s happening, but you don’t know what your next move should be. Technically, you should be working and saving any… other activities for your own free time, but you don’t think waiting is something you’re capable of at this point.

He is the one to make the first move, placing his half-empty mug on the counter and placing himself between your legs. His hands find a place on your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt slightly. Sitting on the counter means you’re a little bit taller than he is, but you really don’t mind it. He holds your gaze for a few seconds before his left hand lifts to cup your face.

“Are you okay with kissing?” His voice is a bit deeper than normal, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t make heat pool between your legs. “I understand if not, but-”

You interrupt him with a gentle kiss. His lips are pillowy against yours, smooth and plump. You thank your past self for bullying him into using chapstick, because you can honestly say that this might be your favorite kiss ever.

Vernon’s hand moves from your jaw to rake through your hair, and you moan a little when his fingers catch a little in the back. He responds by stepping even closer to you and sliding his entire arm around your back, your chest pressing against his deliciously. The only thought going through your mind is the fact that you are kissing your favorite coworker, and how you really, really want to bury his cock in your throat.

He chases after you when you pull away slightly to catch your breath, and you don’t even mind that the oxygen deprivation is making you dizzy. You slump against him a little when he tugs on your hair again, and you move to return the favor. As soon as you pull on the hair at the back of his neck, he forces himself to pull away and gulp down some air.

His eyes are glazed over, his lips slick with a mix of your and his saliva, and his chest is rising and falling where it’s pressed against yours. It's painfully attractive. He rasps out a quiet groan and leans his forehead against yours. You love the feeling of his harsh breaths hitting your face and answer back with your own.

You feel like you’re in a bubble, because the world around you feels muted and time feels like it has stopped moving. You wouldn’t be surprised if the earth had stopped spinning.

“Sorry,” he breathes. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and inhales your scent. “I just really wanted to do that.”

“Stop apologizing,” you respond, bringing your hand onto his head to scratch at his scalp. “I liked it. Maybe a bit too much.”

Your words bring a whine out of Vernon, and he squeezes you tighter. You’re still on top of the counter, but you can feel his bulge against the inside of your thigh. It twitches against you every time you tug at the ends of his hair, and it makes you smile.

One of your hands snakes down and cups him through his jeans. He reacts strongly despite the thick material separating you. His willingness to show you how good you make him feel make you fall for him all over again. As if he wasn’t already perfect enough.

“Y/N,” he gulps when you move your hand against him, “we’re taking this at your pace, and I can go as slowly as you want to, but I think I might go insane if I don’t get these pants off.”

You giggle breathlessly as you pull away from him, and he forces himself to take a step back from you. You lean back on your hands, your knees still spread from where he was standing previously. He’s distracted for a few seconds before he finally remembers to unbutton his jeans and tugs them down his legs.

The bulge had been apparent through the jeans, but you can truly tell how hard he is when they come off. The way he twitches in his boxers is so obvious you almost feel bad for him. You decide it’s time you follow through and receive your lesson.

You hop off the counter and slide onto your knees in front of him. It’s unfair how attractive he is even from this angle, you think, and slide your hands up his thighs. You’ve given handjobs before, so it’s not exactly your first time touching a dick, but the goal is different now. This time, your hands are just the warmup and not the main event. You’re just hoping you can bring him some sort of pleasure in spite of your inexperience.

“Tell me how to start,” you whisper up at him. He blinks a few times at the sight of you before sucking in a deep breath.

“Yeah,” he rasps. His throat is already dry with anticipation. “I uh, I mean everyone is different when it comes to this stuff, so uh-”

“Just teach me what you like, Nonnie.” Your hands are massaging his thighs, nails digging into his skin every now and then. Whenever they do, you can feel him shudder.

“O-Oh, okay,” he breathes, sounding broken already. “I prefer skipping the handjob first, I guess. I really l-like the feeling of licking, especially at the tip, and uh-” He is becoming redder by the second. “One step at a time. Uhm, start by removing my boxers.”

You nod obediently and slide your hands up to his lower tummy, watching the expressions of pleasure as they take over his face. You assume you will never get to do this again, so you do your best to burn it all into your mind for later use on lonely nights spent with your vibrator. He shudders again when your nails scratch his skin lightly. Your fingers curl around the hem of his underwear and tug.

His cock is beautiful. It’s pretty long, curving slightly towards his stomach, and the tip of it is a perfect shade of peach. Your mouth waters at the thought of getting to taste it, and you eye the drop of precum spilling from the tip. You gently shuffle closer, but he stops you.

“Sorry, you’re fine, I just need something to lean against,” he explains when you look at him in fear of having done something wrong. He maneuvers you both so that he’s leaning against the counter you were sitting on not five minutes ago, and you’re in front of him.

“What now, Nonnie?” you ask, his eyes shutting and chest expanding to accommodate a deep breath.

“You should probably just uh, stroke me a few times first. Then uhm, then you can do whatever you want.” You blink at him a few times, trying to indicate that he’s supposed to be teaching you how to do this. For once, he gets the hint. “Like I said, I uh, like licking. When you take me in you just have to make sure not to like, bite me. Other than that, you can take it at your own speed and depth - for your comfort, of course, but I’m also not picky.”

You admire the flush decorating his cheeks and neck. He looks so good like this, towering over you and looking at you like you hold the answer to his ultimate pleasure. You try to convince yourself that you do, that you will be able to listen and follow his guidance well enough that this will feel good for him. You decide that you will.

Raising your right hand, you grip him tightly in your fist. It makes him suck in a breath, and you feel the muscles in his thighs tense up. You pump him a few times, going slow and using his precum as lube. It’s not enough, of course, but you will move on soon.

“Fuck…” he heaves, leaning back onto the counter even more. He looks into your eyes and swears again. “Please, sweetheart, as soon as you’re ready, I-I want-”

You cut him off by pressing your tongue against the head of his dick. The flavor is salty and a little bit bitter, but it tastes like heaven. Your eyes briefly slip closed as you continue kitten-licking at his slit, and he lets out a winy moan. You open your eyes and look at him, only to find him with his head tilted back to look at the ceiling.

“How is this?” you pause to ask, continuing before he’s had time to answer.

“Good, baby,” Vernon answers through his labored breathing. “So, so good. Keep going, you’re doing great.”

The praise bolsters your confidence, and you give a long lick from his base to his tip. The motion makes him moan again, so you repeat it a few more times. In no time at all, his cock is covered in a mixture of your saliva and his own precum. You decide it’s time to try and take him in your mouth - both because you’ve teased him enough, but you’re also too impatient to wait anymore.

His tip breaches the heat of your mouth , and you find you have to open your jaw quite a bit to accommodate him. A punched out groan leaves him, and one of his hands comes down to tangle in your hair. When a strand of it falls in front of your face, he gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail at the back of your head.

You love the weight of him on your tongue, and dare to sink down a bit lower. He hits the top of your mouth. You gag around him, and he gently pulls you off of him to check on you.

“You okay? You don’t have to keep going,” he reminds you. It only serves to make you more determined to make him cum down the back of your throat.

“What can I do better?” you ask while stroking him in your hand. You still want to improve.

“Honestly?” he wheezes, his hips jumping of their own accord. “You’re doing great.” You glare a bit at him, and he smiles down at you apologetically. “Sorry. But you are doing great. Maybe try sucking a bit more? Not just placing me in your mouth.”

You nod and sink right back down on him. His noises of pleasure are never-ending, and they only increase in volume as well as frequency once you properly suck around him. You bob up and down on him, his hand clenching in your hair as he’s doing his best not to fuck your throat. You’re making it pretty hard.

“Please, baby, I’m gonna fucking- Where do you want me to cum?”

His voice is hoarse and strained, and his grip on your hair has grown so tight it’s stinging your scalp. You savor the pain and rub your thighs together, mewling around him. You grip his ass and push deeper to signal for him to cum in your mouth, and it’s not a second too soon because he immediately spills his seed into you.

Vernon cums so much that some spills out onto your chin, but you diligently swallow what you can. He tries to keep his eyes on you, but his vision quite literally whites out as he reaches his high, so his eyes screw shut without his permission. You, on the other hand, couldn’t tear your gaze from him if you tried. He’s beautiful when he cums, his eyebrows scrunched in what almost looks like pain and his jaw slack in awe. His thighs tremble, and you’re glad he’s leaning against the counter so he doesn’t collapse onto the floor.

“Fuck, how are you so good at this,” he heaves out when his vision returns. You just smirk up at him, some of his cum still covering your chin and lips.

“I had a good teacher,” you tease back. Your voice is raspy after bobbing on his cock, and he finds it painfully attractive.

He notices the way you clench your thighs together and realizes you’re still on the floor. He’s quick to bend down and help you to your feet. As soon as you’re in front of him, he’s kissing you. He doesn’t care about the cum transferring from your chin to his, nor the fact that his softening dick is still out in the open; all he can think about is that he wants to pay you back for what you just did for him.

“Nonnie,” you breathe between kisses, and instead of pulling away it makes him kiss you harder, faster, deeper. He loves when you call him that. He reluctantly pulls away when you push gently against his chest, though. “We should finish the-”

“I need to eat you out, baby. Please, please let me.” His interruption surprises you, and so does his suggestion. He must see your confusion, because he quickly clears things up for you. “I want to, because I like you so much. I promise to ask you to be my girlfriend after this, but please, let me eat you out first.”

“Okay, but Nonnie-” you say, but he interrupts you with a passionate kiss as he mumbles thanks against your lips. “Nonnie.” He sighs and pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes to stop himself from jumping you again, and you smile. “I’ll say yes right now. I want to be your girlfriend. Is that okay?”

He kisses you so deeply you lose track of where he starts and you end, but you’re just so glad to be kissing him again you probably couldn’t have figured it out anyway. You don’t talk much more that evening, and you definitely don’t get home before midnight, but at least you go home and fall into bed together. Maybe his inattentiveness was a blessing, after all.

masterlist

a/n: don't forget to like and reblog if you enjoyed this post! <3

[mariasont]

My Assistant - A.H

a/n: im a little addicted to bimbo reader rn if you can't tell lmao

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: you can't reach a book so hotch helps you out

warnings: none? fluff, reader climbing a fucking book shelf and for what

wc: 0.8k

"Oh, biscuits!" 

It was a ridiculous thing to say, but frankly you didn't care. You were on your tiptoes, chest flush against a bookshelf. Spencer had asked for a book for the case they were working, and naturally, it was nestled on the top shelf.

Balancing precariously on your stilettos, you stretched as tall as you possibly could, your fingers skimming the spine that was an inch too far away.

You shifted your weight back onto your heels, planting your hands firmly on your hips as you considered the stubborn object just out of reach. Sure, Spencer would grab the book without hesitation if asked, and he'd do so with a smile, but you really liked feeling useful.

For over a year, you've been the one at Mr. Hotchner's beck and call--fetching coffee, filing papers, and attending to, basically, his every need (not the one you wanted though). To others, it might seem trivial, but you really liked it. Well, you really liked him. 

At first, you were intimidated--how could you not? He had a reputation. You heard the stories--a man who never smiled, his ever-serious nature, and Penelope's not so family friendly description of his sternness was enough to unsettle anyone.

But you considered his reputed severity to just be part of his charm, he was far from the figure others painted him as. He was a good boss, always fair, never once raising his voice at you or demanding too much. In your eyes, he was perfect. You might be biased. 

The idea of climbing the shelf was a gamble, especially in these shoes, and it seemed almost certain to end with a less-than-elegant fall. Still, you couldn't resist the challenge and hoisted yourself up anyway, the shelf wobbling perilously as you did so. 

You pressed on, climbing higher, the wood's groans of protest falling on deaf ears. If this was how you were going down, so be it.

"Almost there," you muttered to yourself, straining every muscle in your arm, you were sure.

And just as you almost had the book, your balance faltered and then found new footing, the sensation of falling dissipating. In its place, you found your ass delicately perched, nearly seated on someone's broad shoulder.

You honestly didn't even need to look to know who it was--embarrassingly enough--you had basically memorized the feeling of Hotch's hands. Though they had never been wrapped around your legs like they were now. His grip was warm and strong, sparking a wave of electricity that rippled through your whole body.

"Got it!" you cried out, your victory fist pump nearly launching you from Hotch's shoulder. But his hold on your thighs clamped tighter, securing you in place. "Thanks, sir."

You angled your head downward, locking gazes with Hotch--his eyes a rich blend of ember and molten chocolate that you really liked looking at.

His eyebrows were arched in a silent question on his well-defined face as if he really couldn't believe what you were doing. 

"Careful," Hotch murmured, his hands lowering you to the ground. There was a fleeting brush against your ass, surely accidental, yet it sparked a flurry of butterflies swirling in the pit of your stomach. "In the future, just ask. I wouldn't want you hurt over something as trivial as a book."

"Oh, don't you worry about me, sir. I'm like, practically a pro at rock climbing when I'm not here." you said, letting out a bubbly giggle.

He regarded you with a look that was equal parts amusement and disbelief, clearly not convinced.

"Okay, not really, but wouldn't that be cool?"

"Well, rock climber or not, let's keep those feet on the ground, please," Hotch remarked, the slightest quirk of his mouth suggesting a suppressed smile. "It's less of a fall from there."

"Sure thing, sir!" you beamed, popping off a silly salute, noting his struggle not to roll his eyes. "But I did get the book, so it all worked out in the end, right?"

With a gentle nudge on your lower back, Hotch directed you towards the conference room.

"Yes, it did, but for future reference, Spencer's height makes him more capable of reaching those books himself."

You couldn't help the blush that colored your face, and you managed a flustered smile.

"Well, I mean, it is what I get paid to do, sir."

"No, you get paid to do my bidding, not Spencer's," he teases, giving a gentle squeeze to your side.

Your laughter rang out, a bit too high, a bit too bright, as his touch sent a delightful vertigo spiraling through you. 

"Well, yeah, okay, that's fair. But it's been pretty light on the to-do list from you today."

"And you're complaining about that?"

With the conference room in sight, you pretended to lock your lips and throw away the key.

A rare laugh rumbled through his chest, and you felt your knees buckle, you were sure you could have melted into a puddle right there and then. It was such a beautiful sound, and you desperately wanted to become familiar with it.

Spencer emerged from the conference room, his eyes landing on the book in your hands. "Is that The Selfish Gene?"

Hotch took the book from you, handing it to Spencer with a firm look. "Reid, I'd appreciate it if you didn't recruit my assistant for your library runs."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[rootedinrevisions]

Just...Stay

SUMMARY: When he rolls back into her life every few months, Tyler Owens brings with him all the irresistible charm and warmth that first captured her heart, leaving her breathless and hoping for more. But as the years slip by, so do his promises, and every departure leaves her with another fracture in her heart and fewer illusions about the man she loves. Caught between the comfort of the life she’s built and the pull of the only man who’s ever felt like home, she must finally decide: will she wait for him one last time, or find the courage to let go and forge a path on her own? PART 2 HERE

Inspired loosely by "All the Cowboys" by Alexandra Kay.

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

WARNINGS: Angst. Unrequited love. Mentions of/Implied Smut.

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists or be tagged for a specific character please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Twisters (Mostly Tyler right now, but possibly others soon)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The screen door creaked as you settled onto the back porch steps, the sun beginning to dip beneath the horizon. You held the phone close, balancing it between your shoulder and ear as you traced absent circles on the weathered wood with your fingertip.

Your mom’s voice crackled on the other end, warm and familiar. “You’ve been keeping busy out there?”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “Yeah, Mama. Got a load of wash done, fixed that fence post that was leaning. Even tried to fix the gutter on the barn.”

She chuckled. “You sound like you’re doing just fine then. So, what’s got you out on that porch, calling me like you got the weight of the world on your shoulders?”

You hesitated, glancing out at the fields stretching endlessly before you, caught between the quiet beauty of dusk and the ache you felt blooming inside. “I don’t know, Mama,” you said, almost whispering. “Just feeling a little lost, I guess.”

There was a long pause on the other end, and you could almost hear her piecing it together. “You saw him again, didn’t you?”

A sigh escaped you, a mix of regret and resignation. “Yeah, I did. He was just… there, like nothing had changed.” You shook your head, remembering the way he’d looked at you, that familiar glint in his eye. “I know what you’re gonna say, Mama.”

She didn’t hesitate. “That boy’s no good. He comes ‘round whenever he pleases, but he leaves just as quick. You can’t be holding out for someone like that, honey.”

You felt your chest tighten, the truth of her words hitting harder than you’d like to admit. “I know, Mama. Believe me, I know.” You picked at a loose thread on your sleeve, fingers fidgeting. “But when he’s here… it’s like I forget all that. I forget how many times he’s done this before, how I feel every time he leaves.” Your voice grew softer, thick with frustration. “And then he’s gone, and it feels like… like there’s this empty spot he left behind.”

There was a pause before she spoke again, her voice gentle but firm. “Why do you let him do this to you, sweetheart?”

You exhaled slowly, shoulders slumping. “I don’t know. Maybe I keep hoping it’ll be different. That maybe… he’ll stay.” The words sounded hollow even as you said them.

You could feel her weighing her response, the silence heavy between you. “Honey, some people just aren’t made to stay. They get what they need and they’re gone, leaving folks like you to pick up the pieces.” She paused, and you could almost see her shaking her head. “But that doesn’t make it right.”

A lump formed in your throat as you thought of Tyler driving off into the sunset, no promises, no goodbyes—just gone. You let out a weary breath, looking down at the chipped paint on the porch step beneath you. 

“Why do they always leave, Mama? Every time things get good, he just vanishes.”

“Oh, honey…” She sighed, the sound deep and knowing. “It’s in some folks’ nature to chase what they don’t have, always looking for something else just over the next hill. Doesn’t mean you have to keep getting hurt by it, though.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the truth settle heavily in your chest. The silence stretched on, filled only by the chirping of crickets and the fading warmth of the sun. You knew your mother was right, but as you sat there, a small part of you still hoped that maybe, just maybe, he’d come back one day and stay.

The memory came back in a slow, aching wave. Just two nights ago, you and Tyler lay tangled up together under the sheets, his arm wrapped tightly around you. The world felt quiet in those moments, like the whole world had shrunk to just the two of you, his warm skin against yours, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek.

You tilted your head up to look at him, his face softened in the dim light. “So… how long are you sticking around this time?” you asked, half-joking, though you both knew the question carried a heavier weight.

Tyler’s gaze drifted, his lips twitching in that familiar, evasive way. “Maybe longer this time,” he mumbled, though he couldn’t quite meet your eyes when he said it. Instead, his thumb traced absent circles over your shoulder, a touch meant to soothe but only deepening the pit forming in your stomach.

You wanted to believe him, wanted to hold on to that maybe, but his tone, that shift in his eyes as he looked away—it was the same pattern, the same script. You’d been through this dance too many times not to recognize the truth hiding behind his words. He would be gone by morning. And as much as he’d tried to sell you that soft maybe, the two of you understood this wasn’t a visit that would last.

But in that moment, as you curled up against his side, you pretended you didn’t know. You buried yourself in the warmth of his embrace, letting yourself have just one night, pretending you wouldn’t wake up alone.

And sure enough, the next morning, when your hand reached across the bed to his side, it found nothing but cool sheets. You stared at the empty space beside you, that hollow ache settling deep in your chest. With a sigh, you threw back the covers and padded over to the closet, grabbing one of his old T-shirts he’d left on one of his previous stays, back when you still believed he might keep leaving pieces of himself behind to build something more permanent with you.

The shirt smelled faintly of him, a hint of cedar and summer nights that made your throat tighten. Tugging it over your head, you went to the kitchen, the floor cold against your bare feet as you filled the kettle, automatically going through the motions of your morning coffee.

And that’s when you saw it—the note, lying in the center of the kitchen table, his handwriting scrawled across the torn piece of paper.

It was a short message, just a handful of words that were supposed to feel like a promise, but instead felt like one more empty reassurance. You picked it up, reading the rushed lines that only served to emphasize his absence.

Didn’t want to wake you. Take care, darlin’. I’ll see you around.

The words felt flimsy, like the paper might disintegrate under the weight of your disappointment. You crumpled the note in your fist, feeling the familiar sting behind your eyes. This wasn’t new—this cycle of him drifting in, leaving pieces of himself in the form of old T-shirts and half-hearted promises, only to vanish before you could say goodbye.

You’d been through this so many times before, and yet, as you stood there, clutching that note, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this time was the one that would finally break you.

Your mom’s voice cut through the silence, gentle but firm. “Honey, you still there?”

You blinked, realizing you’d let the silence drag on too long, your mind caught in the weight of memories you could barely hold onto. “Yeah, Mama,” you murmured, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

“I know you love him,” she continued softly, but her words carried a strength you weren’t sure you had anymore. “But I need you to ask yourself if he’s treating you like he loves you, too. ’Cause, baby, love isn’t something you only hold onto when it’s convenient. It’s there in the hard times, in the moments that aren’t so pretty. And if he’s not showing up for you… maybe it’s time to ask yourself why you’re still waiting.”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see you, staring down at the crumpled note still clutched in your hand. The truth of her words was painful, like a splinter lodged too deep to pull out.

“I know,” you whispered. “I know you’re right.”

“I just hate seeing you go through this, time and again,” she said, her voice tinged with a sorrow that made your chest ache. “You deserve someone who’s there for you, who doesn’t keep running just because things start feeling real.”

You exhaled, forcing a smile that felt as brittle as glass. “Thanks, Mama. I… I just needed to hear that.”

“Anytime, baby,” she said, her tone softening. “You take care of yourself. And remember, it’s okay to let go.”

After a quiet goodbye, you hung up, setting the phone down beside the note. Your mom’s words echoed in your mind, a steady reminder of what you deserved, a grounding tether pulling you back to reality. She was right, of course. She always was. And yet…No matter how many times he left, or how much you knew he wasn’t treating you the way you deserved, there was still a part of you—a foolish, stubborn part—that couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he stayed. Just once.

You closed your eyes, letting the bittersweet ache of a daydream settle over you, imagining what it would be like if he stayed. Just once.

You could almost feel him there beside you, his arm still wrapped around you as you stirred awake. In this vision, his side of the bed wasn’t empty; he was there, his breathing slow and steady, a soft smile tugging at his lips as you rolled over to nuzzle closer. The warmth of his body against yours made you feel safe, grounded, as though he was finally, truly yours.

Later, you pictured the two of you in the kitchen, the early light streaming in through the window as you handed him a mug of coffee. He’d take it, wrapping his hands around yours just a second longer than necessary, his fingers warm against your skin. You’d share a quiet laugh over something simple, something easy, while the steam curled between you. And as he sat across from you, his eyes would linger like he was savoring the moment, like he was savoring you.

In your mind, you watched as he’d finish his coffee, rising from the table to head out to the fields with you. He’d tug on a worn cap and grin over his shoulder, his eyes crinkling in that way that always made your heart stumble. You’d walk side by side, falling into the comfortable rhythm of working together, your boots crunching over the soil as you talked about things that never came up in his fleeting visits. What you’d plant next season, what you’d add to the place if you had the time and the money. He’d joke about the future, and for once, you’d let yourself believe in it.

Evenings would come, and you’d find yourselves on the back porch, watching the sun dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over everything. He’d reach for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You could almost feel the weight of his head resting against yours, his soft murmur of how he’d missed this, missed you. And as night fell, the stars would come out, and he’d pull you close, wrapping you in his arms as though he had nowhere else to be.

And then, in this daydream, he’d follow you back inside, his arm draped around your shoulders as you led him up to bed. There, tangled up in the sheets, he’d hold you close, his touch lingering and gentle, making you feel like you were the only person who’d ever mattered to him. His whispered promises wouldn’t be half-hearted or hesitant; they’d be real, as solid as the feel of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. You’d fall asleep in his arms, knowing he’d be there when you woke, that he’d finally found a place with you he wouldn’t leave behind.

But as you opened your eyes, the reality settled around you like a familiar chill. It was just a daydream, a vision of something you’d never have, as fleeting as his footprints fading from the dirt driveway. And yet, you couldn’t help but hold onto it for one more heartbeat, wishing with all the fragile hope you had left that someday, somehow, it could be real.

* * * * *

A MONTH LATER

It was a late afternoon, the sun dipping low and casting long shadows over the gravel drive as you stood on the porch, the distant rumble of an engine reaching your ears. You recognized that sound before you even saw the dust cloud rising in the distance, stirring up memories you’d been trying to put to rest for weeks. His truck rounded the last bend, and there he was, windows down, that easy, rugged grin spreading across his face as he slowed to a stop in front of the house.

Tyler stepped out, stretching his arms like he belonged there, like he hadn’t left you picking up the pieces last time. Dust clung to his boots as he walked toward you, his eyes fixed on yours with that familiar spark—one that made you feel seen in a way that was hard to shake, even when you wanted to.

He looked just the same, though maybe a little more sun-worn, his t-shirt clinging to his shoulders, his jeans frayed in a way that was somehow endearing, like they’d seen as much of the road as he had. He stopped a few steps away, his gaze softening as it met yours.

“Hey,” he said, voice warm and low, as if no time had passed at all.

You stayed still, hands clenched by your sides. You’d prepared yourself for this—told yourself a hundred times that if he showed up again, you’d keep your distance, guard the pieces of your heart he kept leaving behind. But as he stood there you felt the walls you’d built begin to crack.

“Hey,” you replied, the word catching in your throat.

A beat of silence hung between you, heavy with all the things left unsaid. Then his face softened, his smile widening in that way that always undid you. And, as if by instinct, he reached for you, his hand lifting to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with a gentleness that felt almost like an apology.

For a moment, you considered stepping back, holding onto the anger and hurt that had filled the empty space he left behind. But as his touch settled, as his thumb traced a line just below your cheekbone, all your defenses crumbled.

Before you knew it, you were reaching back, your hand settling over his as you let yourself lean into him. It was like slipping back into a familiar dream—the one where he stayed, where he was yours for longer than a fleeting moment.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, and you sank into his embrace, feeling the weight of his chin against your hair, the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. And in that moment, against all reason, you let yourself believe that maybe this time would be different, that maybe he’d come back not just to leave again, but to finally stay.

He held you close, his arms wrapped around you with that familiar, unguarded tenderness. His chin rested on top of your head, and for a moment, it felt as if the world beyond his embrace had faded away. His fingers traced slow circles on your back, a quiet, grounding rhythm that felt as real as his voice when he finally spoke, low and rough against your hair.

“I missed you,” he murmured, the words so soft you almost didn’t catch them. He shifted, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “I’m glad to see you again.”

You looked away for a moment, the words stirring both warmth and ache deep in your chest. It was unfair, the way he could come and go, the way he could leave you longing for more, but when he looked at you like that—with his guard down, that rugged charm softened by something raw and honest—it was hard to hold onto your resolve.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back, barely able to meet his gaze. He smiled at that, a slow, almost relieved smile, as if he’d feared he might’ve lost his place in your heart.

He let his hand drift to yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a familiar gesture. “Come on,” he said, tugging you gently, “let’s make a day of it.”

With Tyler by your side, you found yourself lost in the rhythm of farm chores that felt lighter, easier, with him there. He was quick to lend a hand, reaching for the same tools you did, working alongside you with that easy, capable grace he seemed to carry everywhere.

You walked through rows of vegetables, pulling up the last of the summer crops, the sun warm against your skin. Tyler watched as you tossed a few stray weeds into a pile, a hint of amusement in his gaze.

“So,” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence, “how’s the team? Boone, Lily, Dani, Dexter?”

He chuckled, swiping a smudge of dirt from his forearm. “They’re all good. Wild as ever. Boone’s still dragging his feet over settling down, though I keep telling him he’s a fool if he lets Lily go. And Dani’s got herself a new truck she’s way too proud of. Dexter? Well, you know him; he’s just happy to tag along for the adventure.”

You smiled at the thought of his friends, feeling a pang of longing for the life he lived—a world of movement and adventure, so different from the one you held steady here. “They sound like they’re keeping you busy.”

“Yeah, they do.” He looked at you, a softness to his expression that made your heart skip. “But they’re not the only ones.”

“What do you mean?”

“Been thinking about you too, you know. Wondering what you’re up to when I’m gone.” He paused, glancing around the fields before adding, “How’s your mom doing?”

You swallowed, touched that he remembered to ask. “She’s good. Stubborn as ever, trying to do too much on her own. But we manage.”

He nodded thoughtfully, reaching out to steady you when you stumbled on a loose patch of earth. “You’ve got your hands full, don’t you?”

“Guess so,” you said, shrugging with a small smile. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He looked at you then, his gaze lingering, as if taking in the way you belonged here, rooted to this land and this life. For a moment, you thought he might say something more, but he only squeezed your hand, wordlessly acknowledging that unspoken divide between his world and yours.

Later, after a simple dinner you’d shared at the kitchen table, you both made your way out to the porch as the sun dipped low in the sky. He settled onto the swing beside you, letting his arm drape casually over the back of it as you leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his shoulder beneath your cheek.

The evening was calm, the colors of the sunset stretching across the horizon in soft shades of pink and orange, and you found yourself sighing into the quiet.

“This…this is nice,” you murmured, glancing up at him.

Tyler gave a soft hum of agreement, his thumb tracing small, comforting circles along your shoulder. “Could get used to it,” he said, his voice soft, as if testing the thought aloud. “It’s different from the rush of things out there. Being here with you—it just feels right.”

The words settled between you, gentle and unassuming, but laced with a longing that you felt all too acutely. He looked down, catching your gaze, his eyes holding yours in the fading light.

“I know you’ve got your life on the road,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “But sometimes I wonder…what it’d be like if you stayed.”

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze drifting out over the fields that stretched into the distance. Finally, he gave a small nod. “I think about it too. More than you know.”

You fell into a comfortable silence, his arm around you, your head resting on his shoulder as the last light slipped below the horizon. And in that quiet moment, you let yourself imagine a world where he was yours—not just for today, but for all the days and nights to come.

In the quiet glow of the fading sunset, Tyler’s gaze grew heavy, lingering on yours with a kind of tenderness that always seemed to pull you in too deep, too fast. And in a heartbeat, he was scooping you up, lifting you effortlessly into his arms as you laughed, breathless and already feeling the rush of surrender. He carried you down the hallway, his eyes never leaving yours, each step filling the space with anticipation you could feel in every beat of your heart.

The bed was cool beneath you as he laid you gently on the sheets, his body following close, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of any distance between you. His hands were careful yet urgent as he traced familiar paths along your skin, murmuring against your ear, his voice low and rough with want. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he whispered, his breath warm against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. You closed your eyes, letting the sound of his voice wash over you, feeling the weight of his words settle deep in your chest. “I’m lucky,” he murmured, his lips brushing your collarbone. “I’m the luckiest damn man alive that you’re mine.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to cling to those words and tuck them away, to let them soothe every doubt he’d left behind. But you pushed the ache aside, banishing it to some quiet corner of your mind where it couldn’t reach you now.

Instead, you let yourself get lost in him, in the way his hands knew every inch of you, how his touch left you dizzy, breathless, like you were the only thing that mattered in his world. Every whispered word, every gentle kiss pressed to your skin, they all felt like a spell you couldn’t break. And for that one perfect night, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, he was telling the truth.

Afterward, as you lay tangled together in the sheets, your body pressed close to his, his arm wrapped around you, it was almost easy to forget. To ignore the hollow ache in your chest and pretend that this time, he wouldn’t slip away with the sunrise. And so, for those last quiet hours before dawn, you let yourself exist in that fragile, fleeting moment, letting go of everything but him.

The soft sound of Tyler stirring pulled you from the haze of sleep. You opened your eyes to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, already reaching for his clothes. The early morning light filtered through the window, casting a soft glow over his figure as he moved quietly, carefully separating your clothes from his in the pile by the bed. For a moment, you wanted to reach out, to pull him back, to press your face into his shoulder and beg him to stay. But something in you had finally had enough.

He noticed you were awake, glancing over his shoulder with a soft smile that you’d once let yourself believe was meant just for you. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand brushing over your shoulder. 

“Go back to sleep,” he murmured. “You need the rest.”

But you couldn’t—not anymore. Watching him move through the room, watching him get ready to leave again as if it were just another morning, you felt something inside you finally shift, that last fragile bit of hope you’d clung to finally snapping.

Sitting up, you took a steadying breath. “Tyler,” you said, your voice quiet but steady. He looked over, a hint of surprise in his eyes at your tone. You struggled to keep your voice even, the words tangled in your throat. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep waiting for someone who always leaves when things start to feel... real.”

He stilled, the easy expression on his face fading as the weight of your words sank in. You saw the conflict in his eyes, the same struggle you’d seen a dozen times before, but this time you weren’t going to let it end with an unspoken understanding. You were done with the quiet promises, the hope that somehow, one day, he might change.

“Stay,” you whispered, feeling the tears prick at your eyes. “Just... stay. I’m not asking you to give up chasing. I just want you to come home—to make this your home. To choose me.”

He looked at you, something like regret flickering in his gaze, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words you wanted. 

Instead, he let out a shaky breath and looked down, and when he looked back up, all he managed was, “I’m sorry.” And you knew, in those two words, he’d already made his choice.

As he turned and started for the door, you found yourself following him, your steps echoing in the silence of the house as you trailed him through the hallway, the kitchen, the living room—all the way out onto the porch. You watched as he opened the truck door, throwing his bag into the backseat like he had a hundred times before.

“Don’t come back,” you said, the words escaping before you could stop them. Your voice wavered but held firm, steady with a finality that startled even you. 

He froze, his hand on the truck door, then turned to look at you. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—shock, maybe even hurt—as he crossed the driveway and came back up the steps, stopping just a few feet away.

“You don’t mean that, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and careful, as if he could talk you back from the edge. “You’re upset, I get that, but... you don’t mean it.”

But you shook your head. “I do, Tyler. I can’t keep doing this. If you’re not choosing me, then... then don’t come back.”

He held your gaze, searching for something, as if hoping to see the softness he’d come to rely on. But when he only saw your resolve, he let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly. 

“I’ll call you later,” he murmured. “We’ll talk.”

And just like that, he’d told you everything you needed to know. You didn’t need a call. You didn’t need another apology. You’d waited long enough.

You stood on the porch, watching as he climbed back into his truck. He didn’t look back as he drove down the driveway, the morning sun casting his truck in a halo of light as he disappeared into the Kansas countryside. You watched until he was just a speck on the horizon, your heart breaking and mending all at once with the realization that this was truly goodbye.

You’d loved him with everything you had, but you knew now that you couldn’t keep waiting for him to choose you. And when the phone finally rang, you knew you wouldn’t pick it up. Not this time. Not ever again. Because the next time he came back, you’d be moved on, ready to start again without him.

[nereidprinc3ss]

like real people do

in which spencer gets home from a case and fem!reader is feeling extra clingy

fluff (18+ for nudity) warnings/tags: reader referred to as a girl, non-sexual nudity/intimacy (again....??...), if you have daddy issues you'll prob like it, i should try therapy, technically suggestive, not even one whiff of plot, just cute shit a/n: wrote about a heatwave because winter makes me crave death. kisses!

It was hot in LA, and it’s a different, muggier kind of hot back at Spencer’s apartment when he gets home at four in the morning. The plan is to take a quick shower without waking you and then pass out for ten hours, but as soon as he opens the bedroom door, plans change. 

Even the sheer sleep-deprivation he’s experiencing can’t hamper the smile that forms when he sees you face down on the bed, fan on the highest setting and pointed straight at you, and conspicuously lacking a shirt. He drops his bag and folded suit jacket to the floor, trudging to the bed before practically falling upon you, pressing a trail of kisses up your spine.

A little sleepy grumble from you notifies him that his plans of keeping you asleep have failed, but he can’t find it within himself to be too broken up about it. 

“Spence!” you murmur, voice so quiet and scratchy with sleep but still drenched in pure adoration and joy. 

“Hi, baby,” he says, lifting his weight off of you just enough for you to turn over before he collapses on top of you again. He slips his arms underneath you and around your waist just as you wrap your arms around him. 

“You’re home.”

“I am,” he agrees, burying his face in your neck with a sigh. “And I missed you so much, pretty girl.”

He laughs when you kick the blanket away, attempting to wrap your legs around him like a koala bear. 

“Did you kiss any movie stars while you were gone?”

“Not a one,” he assures you, pressing his lips to your jaw like an offering. 

“Are you sure?”

“I am positively sure. Did you give up on clothing yourself while I was gone?”

“You don’t know how hot it was earlier when I was trying to fall asleep. There was no other option.”

He hums, his face still slotted under your jaw like pieces of a puzzle. 

“You should go back to sleep. I’m just going to take a shower and then I’m coming to bed.”

Your hands weaves through his hair gently, which doesn’t make him feel any less like passing out where he is. 

“Can I come?”

“To the shower?” He chuckles, rousing slightly. “You’re welcome to, but it’s not going to be very exciting. I’m exhausted.”

“That’s okay,” you assure him. “There will be no funny business whatsoever.”

“Okay. Come on, lovebug.”

He rolls off the bed, pulling you to your feet with just a little bit too much force. The momentum send you stumbling into him, but he catches you gratefully and captures your lips in a sweet kiss. 

“Wait,” you order when he tries to pull away. “Not done yet.”

“Oh, you’re not?” He laughs against you between kisses, but slowly the humor fades and he loops his arms around your waist, gently rocking the two of you back and forth for a very long moment. “You are in rare form tonight, sweet girl,” he murmurs, finally pulling away from the kiss for good. 

“I’m not all the way awake yet,” you admit. “What’s that called, again?”

“Hypnagogia.” He presses a kiss to your temple, loosening his hold on you. “I am also rapidly losing consciousness so we need to make this shower super quick, okay?”

“I know, I know! I said I would behave!”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he says dryly, tugging you toward the adjoining bathroom. You pout.

“Your lack of faith in me hurts."

Despite his hesitations, the shower remains PG-13. You cling to him pretty much the entire time like a flowering vine, but no untoward advances are made. 

“Okay, you’re going to have to let go of me long enough so I can put some clothing on.”

Spencer says it lightheartedly, but you huff dramatically anyway, sitting on the edge of the bed as he roots through drawers in search of pajamas. When he produces a shirt for himself, your favorite of his, you object. 

“Wait, I wanna wear that one.”

“Oh? I thought you don’t do shirts anymore,” he teases, tossing it to you before finding another for himself. You pull it over your head, getting up again to search for a pair of shorts as he gets dressed. 

“Well, since you’re so concerned that I’m a sex-crazed harlot, I figure I’d better wear some clothes.”

“I never said that,” he reprimands gently, pulling you backward by your waist. “If you decided to forgo clothing completely, I would respect that decision.”

“You think you’re so funny.”

The two of you land on the bed, a tangle of limbs as he pulls you close as humanly possible. 

“I think I’m delirious,” he admits. With a start you realize the room is lit with the very early beginnings of dawn—you don’t even want to know how long he’s been awake. Suddenly you feel very guilty. 

“Oh—I’m really sorry for keeping you up, Spence.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m comfortable with my choices.” His hand finds the small of your back, rubbing small comforting circles over the bare skin. “Now, go to sleep.”

“Okay,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut. “Love you.”

“I love you,” Spencer sighs dreamily. “So much.”

And the warmth you feel then has nothing to do with the heatwave. 

[darylssunshine]

daryl x reader

“lift up your sleeve”

at the farm maybe daryl saw shane grab your wrist tightly

Caring

Word count: 0.9k

Genre: Mainly fluff

A/N: my first request! hope you enjoy anon!!

~~~~~

You squint your eyes in frustration, rubbing a hand down your face and shifting your weight away from Shane. He was fed up with the continuous search for Sofia and he was taking his anger out on the whole group, yelling at the top of his lungs with a deep southern drawl. He believed that the search was futile and that the group should keep moving, but the rest of the group opposed, including Daryl.

“We’re close to finding this girl, I just found her damn doll a few days ago!” He piped up, pacing back and forth to ease his frustration. Shane harshly chuckled in response. “You found her doll, Daryl. That’s what you did, you found a doll.” 

The group then erupted back into an argument with Rick trying to hold Daryl back from lunging at Shane, the redneck jumping up and down and throwing up his arm as an attempt to move Rick’s arm out of the way. Frankly, you were tired and hungry and on edge and sick of Shane’s shit. So you piped up this time.

“Hey!” You stepped in front of Shane, blocking Daryl from his view. The rest of the group had now ceased their yelling and all had their eyes on you and your sudden surge of boldness. Daryl moved to the side so he could properly glare at the now stunned southern man.

“Daryl was only trying to help. What the fuck is so bad about that? It’s giving people hope, and that’s all we need right now, especially Carol. Now, if you could settle down, we could think of some sort of pl-”

You were cut off from your outburst and pointing your finger in Shane’s face by him violently grabbing your wrist, rendering it immobile by his strong grasp. He bored his fiery eyes into yours and spoke lowly, but so that everyone surrounding the exchange could still hear him. You tried to mask the scared look in your eyes that paralleled his, but you knew what Shane was capable of, and you felt your breathing speed up and your wrist throb.

“Listen here, sweetheart. You ever do somethin’ like this again and I will not hesitate to break this skinny little wrist right here, do you hear me?” He was so close to your face you could feel his hot breath hit the tip of your nose. You were so focused on the pain in your wrist growing by the second, you didn’t answer his rhetorical question.

“Do you hear me?!” He yelled suddenly, the grip on your wrist growing impossibly tighter.

“Yes, Shane.” You grunted through gritted teeth. He threw your wrist out of his grasp and turned around with a huff.

“This talk ain’t over!” He shouted to no one in particular while stomping in the opposite direction.

—

Daryl found you later in the evening sitting against the Greene house, basking in the evening breeze. You were absentmindedly rubbing your wrist that Shane had grabbed earlier, when he wordlessly sat next to you, crossing his arms and leaning his head against the house. You turned your head towards the redneck and furrowed your brow in confusion. Your heart was beating a bit faster just from his presence, but you were determined to not let your nervousness show.

“M’ dad used to do that.”

You sat up, snapping your gaze over to Daryl, who was still staring at the stars above. His voice was low, but still caring. He continued, his gaze unwavering despite your movement.

“He was a drunk. Beat me all th’ time. Left bruises all over.”

Your eyes shifted to the ground, now embarrassed, remembering that he saw that entire heated exchange. “It didn’t leave a bruise, Daryl. It’s not that bad.” You said softly as you rubbed your neck.

“Lift up yer sleeve, then.” He prodded, now staring at you with his icy blue eyes. He scooted closer to where you were sitting and shifted his gaze to your right hand, your left currently covering it. 

Shifting your eyes back to a particularly interesting patch of grass, you gently rolled up your right jacket sleeve with a wince. Daryl’s brows creased in anger when his eyes were met with a deep purple bruise forming at the base of your wrist, the purples fading into soft yellows. You now anxiously played with your left jacket sleeve.

A sort of growl exited his mouth. “Imma kill that sumbitch.”

You were stunned and your thoughts were reeling, your eyes flipping from your wrist to Daryl’s concerned yet angry face. He was being so careful around the wound, very gently holding and examining it. Did he actually care about you? You originally found it unlikely, but he didn’t seem like the type to open up to just anyone. A blush was creeping onto your face after his last comment, and you were silently praying that he didn’t notice. 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and setting your hand back onto the soft grass. “Hershel’ll fix ya up in the mornin’. Till then, be careful n’ don’t put pressure on it, aight? I want ya to get better.” You softly chuckled in response. “You got it, Dr. Dixon.” You saluted with your left hand. He rolled his eyes in response.

“Thank you for caring. Really. It means a lot.” You said sincerely, placing your injured hand on his.

“Mhm.” He shifted his gaze back to the stars as he slowly intertwined his fingers with yours. “Course I do.

[babyleostuff]

their s/o having a nightmare | hip hop unit

𐙚 seungcheol

cheol is a heavy sleeper, an earthquake could be happening and he’d sleep through it, BUT when it comes to you, it’s like he has a sixth sense that notices any shifts in your mood, even if he’s asleep. and knowing him, cheol would be worried sick seeing you so distraught, as your eyes looked frantically around the room, while you tried to reach for him in a frenzy.

something about you being scared and frightened in your sleep, in your most vulnerable state, made his heart ache so badly. his panicked state matching yours wouldn’t help a lot in calming you down, but the weight of his arms around your waist and his lips repeatedly pecking your forehead would be a whole another story. 

“s okay, you’re okay baby,” your boyfriend whispered, kissing the top of your head, as he tightened his arms that were wrapped around your waist. you thought you were quiet enough not to wake him, but it seemed that muffling your sobs with the sleeve of his hoodie you were wearing, letting the tears run slowly down your cheeks wasn’t enough to deceive cheol’s protectiveness, even in his sleep. 

“sorry for waking you up,” you murmured, your voice muffled by your hiccups and his shirt, as he cradled your head to his chest. he hushed you immediately, pecking your forehead repeatedly. “do you want to talk about it? need me to get you some water? should i get you an extra blanket? want me to turn on the lights?” he asked, his breath tickling your cheek, as he swayed you back and forth. kkuma, almost as if she could sense something was wrong, yawned and stretched, padding over to where you were sitting in her dad’s arms. 

at some point you had to start calming him down. his worried pout was endearing, but you didn’t want to keep cheol up all night, and you knew there was no way he’d go back to sleep in this state, especially because you were still shaken up by your bad dream.  

“i just want to make sure you’re okay,” he said, running his hand over your back. “just hold me like this, please?” there was no safer place for you than seungcheol’s arms, and not even a nightmare could change that.     

𐙚 wonwoo

wonwoo would wake up while you’d try to sneak out of the bed (he’s not as cuddly in his sleep as cheol or gyu are, but he always has an arm draped over your waist or tummy, so of course he’d immediately notice if you’d try to wiggle your way out of his grip). usually he’d just go back to sleep, thinking you were going to the bathroom or to get a glass of water, but you’d be shaking too much for it to be normal. wonwoo would reach for you, pulling you back to his chest, cradling the back of your head with his hand.

i believe wonwoo would be even more worried than cheol, he’d never show it as much as him, but his heart would break as he’d hold your shaking body in his arms. (i don’t know if you’ve seen that tik tok where he checks up on seungkwan after he hit him on accident or something, AND OMG THE BOBA EYES AND WORRY ON HIS FACE EIUFHEUIRFHE).  

“here, put your hand over my heart,” wonwoo gently grabbed your shaking hand, and placed it on his chest, right over his heart. “you see, that was just a bad dream, honey,” he whispered, his voice deep and soothing, still laced with sleep. “everything’s okay.”   

you nodded, resting your head in the crook of wonwoo’s neck, as you tried to match your erratic breathing with his heartbeat, while he kept petting the back of your head with one hand, and rubbing soothing circles into your hip with the other. surrounded by his arms and familiar warmth, you snuggled further into his embrace, inhaling his comforting scent that always felt like home. 

“what if i read a bit to you?” wonwoo pressed a kiss to your temple, smoothing out your bed-hair. 

“no, won, you have work tomorrow morning,” you whispered, your face still hidden in his neck. “you should go to sleep.” 

without saying anything, wonwoo placed you between his legs, as he fixed the pillows behind him, so he could rest comfortably against the headboard, and grabbed the book he was currently reading from the nightstand. “do you need an extra blanket? or maybe you want me to make you some tea?” 

you smiled, grabbing his hand that was resting against your tummy, and run your thumb over his knuckles - the same ones that were ready to fight with whatever made you so scared in your dream. “no, wonwoo, everything is perfect,” you whispered. “thank you.”

“of course,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

𐙚 mingyu  

gyu can’t physically sleep without you, you’re wrapped securely in his arms through the whole night, whether you like it or not, so he’d immediately know that something was wrong. at first, he’d be a bit confused, sleep still clouding his mind, why he couldn’t feel your body weight on his, and he’d try to reach for you pouting angrily, because how dare you to move away from him.

when he’d find you shaking and struggling to catch your breath, mingyu would be up and alert in an instant, ready to fight whoever and whatever made you so distressed. and mingyu would try to act as composed as he could, even though he’d be a worried mess on the inside. 

“baby,” you heard your boyfriend whine behind you, probably from the lack of your warmth next to him. “where ‘r you,” he sighed, lifting his head up, just to drop it onto his pillow a second later. “come back.” 

you exhaled slowly, trying to calm your breathing, because you knew mingyu - no matter how tired he was, he’d immediately notice that something was wrong. he just came back home from tour and needed a full night of sleep, you couldn’t make him worry. “i’m right here, love. go back to sleep,” you tried your best to sound as normal as you could, and hoped mingyu would be too tired to notice how your voice shook. 

“no,” he murmured, his voice muffled by his pillow. “come back here,” he reached out and made grabby hands at you with his eyes still closed. if you weren’t so shaken up because of your dream, you’d take a photo of him (which would probably become your new wallpaper), and smother his puffy cheeks in kisses. “wait a second,” he said, finally opening his eyes, sensing that something was wrong, when you didn’t snuggle back against him. 

a couple of minutes later you were all wrapped up in at least three blankets (to protect you from the monsters, mingyu’s words) and your boyfriend’s arms that securely held you against his chest. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you,” he mumbled, bumping his nose against yours. “you’re safe now, my baby.” 

𐙚 vernon 

when he sleeps, he sleeps like a log (vernon needs his beauty sleep), so you’d be a bit hesitant to wake him up. you knew he rarely got a full eight hours of sleep, so you didn’t want to disturb him just because of your nightmare, but at the same time you needed some comfort. you’d cuddle up to him, throwing one of your arms over his tummy, which would wake him up a bit, alarmed by the weight on his body (it wasn’t often that you cuddled while sleeping, so his sleep clouded mind noticed something was wrong).

thanks to him being so relaxed and composed, vernon would be excellent at calming you down, plus he always gets a bit clingier when seeing you so upset, so you’d fall asleep again in no time.

“ratatouille is so much better than cars, though,” vernon whispered, his lips tickling your temple, as he placed occasional pecks there. “i could watch that movie over and over again and never get bored of it.”

you giggled quietly as you listened to your boyfriend rant about something he definitely shouldn’t be talking about in the middle of the night on a random wednesday. it was all of you fault, and although vernon was quick to shut your apologies down, you still fell bad for waking him up when you knew he needed to sleep. plus, you were a bit embarrassed by the whole situation.

“nightmares suck, and there is no shame in feeling scared. i’m happy you woke me up,” he said, holding your head in his hands, so you wouldn’t escape his gaze. 

vernon knew exactly how to calm you down, he noticed early in your relationship how you became putty in his arms whenever he talked about movies. it wasn’t your fault he looked so adorable ranting about something he loved os much. rubbing your cheeks to get the dried tears off of them, you snuggled further into your boyfriend’s side, waiting for what unpopular opinion he’d state next.

“are you sure you’re okay, babe? you don’t need me to grab a glass of water for you or anything?” 

“i’m okay, seriously. just… just keep talking.” 

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @dkswife @marisblogg @whatsgyud @aaniag @jeonghansshitester @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @soul-is-a-strange-kid @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @f4iryjjosh @isabellah29 @hafsah-ali @mrswonwooo @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @chillseo @bangantokchy @hrts4hanniehae @haecien

[gojipink]

kiss it better

ஐ ft. childe

ஐ summary. you told your boyfriend you'll kiss his bruises better, so what happens when his dick aches too?

ஐ warnings. (N)SFW, mdni, fem!reader, deep throating , dirty talk, fem. pet names. 1.2k words

ஐ notes. if i make a blowjob mini series, who would u wanna see!

truthfully, you dont even know how you ended up here; childe supporting his weight against the bathroom sink counter and you kneeling in between his legs, knees cushioned by the bath mat. 

“babbbyyy,” he drawls out with a pout, breaking you out of your thoughts. he teasingly pushes the head of his hard cock against your face, leaky tip smearing precum against your cheek, “you said you wanted to kiss it better, right? you said you’ll kiss everything that was hurting me, didn’t you angel?” 

you huff at him, “i was talking about your bruised face and your knuckles, you perv! i didn't know you would get hard from just a small kiss on your cheek!” 

he scoffs and rolls his eyes, “a perfectly natural reaction to your kisses, i believe. now c’mon give it a kiss, it hurts way more than any of these bruises do,” he says while flashing his boyish grin at you.

you roll your eyes at him before letting a glob of spit fall into the palm of your hand while maintaining eye contact with the harbinger. the lewd sight making childe’s eyes instantly haze with lust as he gently combs the hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail so he can see better.

you take his cock into your hands and lightly work up and down his length, making sure to twist your wrist when nearing his tip. the slick sounds and childe’s light groans sending a shock of arousal straight to your clit. 

his dick twitches with impatience in your hold, “angel, don't tease,” he huffs. “you have no idea how good you look right now. be good for me, baby c’mon, kiss it, it hurts,” he near whines while his grip on your hair tightens, making your breath hitch. 

looking up at him with lust filled eyes, your tongue pokes out to kitten lick at the bead of pre-cum oozing from his slit before planting a wet and exaggerated mwah on his swollen tip. 

childe grins from above you, blue iris nearly swallowed up by his blown out pupils. “s’cute, princess, fuck such a good girl, aren’t you?” 

you hollow your cheeks sucking on his tip while you hum in agreement. the vibrations causing his hips to buck into your mouth a little, making you both moan out. 

“mmmh, the base hurts too, baby. you wanna try kissing it there too, hm?” 

 you pull him out of your mouth with a wet plop, your hand replacing your tongue as you circle your palm around his sensitive head, making his jaw clench tight. 

“can’t reach back there without your help, ajax,” you pout up at him. 

he swears he nearly blows his load from how cute you look saying such a dirty sentence.

“oooh shit,” he breathes out a small laugh, “you want me to help you reach, pretty girl?” he coos, “i’ve got you, baby, say ahhh.” 

“ahhhhh,” you maintain eye contact while opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue, giving him a little show as your hands come up to lightly rake your nails along his thigh. 

he grips the base of his cock as he lightly taps his sensitive head against your tongue a couple times, smirking to himself at the obscene plap, plap sounds. 

he stands away from the sink counter to give himself more stability as he inches his long cock into your mouth, hands gripping your hair tight to keep your head still. 

“o-oh, fuck,” he curses under his breath as he feels your hot tongue drag further and further down the underside of his shaft. his mushroom tip hits the back of your throat, throat constricting around him tightly as you choke around him. 

“a-ah! mhm that’s it, sweet girl, just relax f’me,” he lightly thrusts, slowly letting your throat adjust to him. “breathe baby, you’re doing so well. just a lil’ more, ugh making me feel so much better, aren't you, pretty?” 

you look up at him with tear dotted eyelashes, eyes glazed over with need, head a little fuzzy from the lack of oxygen. 

“a-almost there, mmh- such a good girl, yeah? doing such a good job kissin’ on me like this.”

his constant praise making you squeeze your thighs together, feeling the wetness pool in your own underwear, making a sticky mess. 

you whine needily around him, desperate to feel his cum down your throat already. taking a hand away from his thighs to play with his balls, giving them a light squeeze, trying to encourage him to go a bit faster. his breath hitches at the feeling of your gentle touch, feeling the white hot pleasure build at the base of his spine.

“o-oh shit-! big breath angel, ngh- gonna kiss the base for me? gonna make it feel all better, hm?” he slurs out, drunk off the feeling of making a mess out of your throat.

you take in a quick greedy inhale of air through your nose, your hands making their way back to his thighs, digging your nails into his toned flesh. his fingers, twisted in your hair, push your head forward to meet his thrusts, his flushed tip nestled deep between the tight walls of your throat. 

“f-fuck! mmmmh-! ooh sh-shit!” 

feeling your throat struggle to accommodate his dick as it flexes and constricts around him forces him to immediately shoot white ropes of cum down your throat, head tilted up towards the ceiling with his eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted together.

your lips meet the skin of the base of his cock in sloppy open mouth kisses as his hips stutter against your throat making you both moan out obscenely. 

“r-right there, oooh goooood girl. good. fuckin’. girl.” he punctuates each praise with short plunges in your throat before gently pulling his softening cock out of your mouth. 

throat finally free of the obstruction, you slump to the floor as you cough and swallow lungfuls of fresh air, fucked out tears and saliva smudged along your face. 

recovering quickly, he wets a hand towel before crouching down to meet you on the floor, gently wiping down your face. 

“s’good for me, baby. did so good, made me feel so much better, pretty. only you could make me feel like that, hm?” he showers you in praise as he cleans you up, grinning at you when he notices a small dopey smile come through on your lips as you catch your breath. 

“alright, upsy daisy, can't let my girl sit here on the cold tile now, can i?” he scoops you up into his strong arms as he lifts you up bridal style off the bathroom floor. entering your bedroom, he lays you down gently on the plush covers of the bed. 

he has a lovesick smile painted on his face as he pets your hair, watching your breathing slow back down to normal. reaching over you to litter your face in small kisses, you breathlessly giggle at his silly display of aftercare. you open your eyes to peek up his beaming face. 

“theeeere’s my princess! you rest here for a sec, i’ll go make some hot tea. i already know your voice is gonna sound a little fucked out,” he giggles. 

“ajax!” you hoarsely whisper shout at him, weakly swatting at his arm. his boyish laugh fills the room as he bounces up from the bed to hurry into the kitchen. 

“you stay there and rest for a second! it’ll be your turn when i get back!” 

[tetragonia]

Let It Roll

JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

JJ Maybank would give anything, but he won't give up on you. He'd say anything, but not good bye.

warning: uh, angst? they're fighting.

note: I took the title and the summary from Train's song, Let It Roll and Words. would be nice if you take a listen!

words: 1.5k

It had started weeks ago, small things piling up like the sand that collects on a boat until it makes everything feel heavier. JJ had been distant, disappearing without a word and dodging questions when he came back. You’d catch him staring off into the distance, his jaw set, shoulders tense, but whenever you’d ask what was going on, he’d just brush it off with a laugh or say something evasive.

At first, you tried to be understanding. JJ wasn’t the kind of person to open up easily, and you knew he had a lot on his shoulders—too much, really, for someone so young. But as days passed and he kept pulling further away, the frustration grew.

You’d text him, and hours would pass before he’d reply with something vague. You’d make plans, and he’d show up late or sometimes not at all, leaving you with the sense that he was slipping through your fingers, like sand you couldn’t hold onto.

Tonight was supposed to be different. He’d promised to meet you by the docks after sundown, a plan he’d made himself. You were excited, even hopeful, thinking this would be the night he’d finally open up about whatever was weighing on him. But as the sun sank and the stars filled the sky, there was still no sign of JJ. An hour passed, and then another, until you were left alone, hurt gnawing at you as the breeze grew cold.

When he finally showed up, his face flushed and eyes stormy, he mumbled an apology. It was the same routine—vague promises that didn’t really ease the sting of waiting alone. You’d reached your limit, and suddenly, everything you’d been holding back came spilling out.

“You’re here now, but for how long, JJ?” you said, your voice trembling with frustration. “I’ve been waiting for you to let me in, to talk to me instead of shutting me out, but you keep disappearing. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“You’re always doing this, JJ,” you continued, your voice wavering as you tried to keep steady. “Pushing everyone away, saying it’s no big deal, that nothing gets to you—but it does. And I’m just supposed to sit here and watch you pull further and further away?”

JJ ran a hand through his hair, clearly taken aback. “Look, I’m doing my best here, okay? It’s not like you understand this life, this… mess.”

“Then make me understand,” you pleaded. “Tell me what’s going on. I want to help you, but I can’t if you keep pushing me away.”

He looked at you, his jaw clenched tight, and shook his head.

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice rough. “You don’t get it. I’m not good at this—at… needing someone. I don’t know how to just talk it out, alright?”

You took a shaky breath, fighting the ache that had settled in your chest. “I don’t need you to be perfect, JJ. I just need you to be here. With me.”

He looked down, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of everything was pressing down on him all at once. For a moment, he didn’t respond, and the silence between you grew heavy, filled with every unspoken word and missed moment.

"No, I... I can sort this alone."

"There you go again!" you were frustated.

He looked at you, his blue eyes clouded, jaw clenched. “I’m trying, alright? I don’t know how to—how to do this stuff like you do. You know me. I mess up, I get it. But you act like I’m not here, like you’re waiting for me to say it’s over so you don’t have to.”

The accusation stung, but maybe it was true. Maybe you had been waiting for him to let you go.

“I don’t know how to keep this going if it’s always going to feel like this, JJ. I don’t know if you even want me here. I can’t be the only one fighting for this.”

“I don’t want you to fight for it alone!” his voice broke as he took a step forward. “You think I don’t want you here? That I don’t think about you every second of every day? I’d give anything to fix this—anything, alright? Just not… just not this.”

“Not what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Not goodbye,” he said, his voice softer now, but his tone stubborn, like he was digging his heels into the ground and refusing to budge. “I can’t say it. I won’t.”

Your heart felt like it was being pulled in two directions. You wanted to let go of the anger, but you couldn’t ignore the hurt.

“JJ, sometimes it’s not enough just to want something. We need… more. I need you to talk to me, to tell me what’s going on inside instead of just running off when things get hard.”

“I don’t run,” he shot back, his gaze steady and filled with something fierce. “I stay because of you. Because I don’t want to let you go. I know I’m not great at the talking part, but I’m here, aren’t I? I’m trying to tell you that I’m not giving up, even if you think I should.”

Your eyes stung, and you blinked back tears, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. You wanted so badly to believe him, to trust that he wouldn’t push you away again, but it was hard. You’d been here before—on the edge of leaving, only to be pulled back in by the sheer force of your feelings for him.

He took another step forward, close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“I’ll say anything you need me to say, do whatever it takes to make this right,” he murmured, his voice softer now, pleading. “But I won’t say goodbye. Not to you.”

There was a desperation in his words, a crack in the armor he always wore. JJ was staring at you like you were the only thing anchoring him to the ground, his face tense and unguarded. It was rare for him to let you see him like this—raw, unfiltered, his defenses dropped.

Slowly, you reached out, your hand finding his, your fingers intertwining with his as you tried to breathe through the ache in your chest. You didn’t have the strength to walk away from him, not when he was looking at you with that fierce determination, like he’d rather burn than let you slip away.

“I don’t want to say goodbye, either,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

For a moment, the silence wrapped around you both. He brought your hand to his chest, letting you feel the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath your fingers.

“Then don’t,” he said softly. “We can figure this out, I promise. I just… I need you to believe in me. In us.”

The air was heavy, filled with unspoken promises, but as you looked at him, really looked at him, you could see it: the way his gaze softened, the way he was holding on to you like you were his lifeline.

Slowly, you nodded, squeezing his hand. You didn’t have the answers, and maybe neither did he. But for now, you were both here, grounded by the weight of everything you’d fought through to get to this moment. And it was enough.

As you stood there together, the tension between you faded into something warmer, something hopeful. Maybe things weren’t perfect, but you knew he was right — you weren’t ready to say goodbye, either. Not tonight. Not yet.

[lymtw]

Thinking of Gojo working with you to get you to believe that you deserve things.

"Come on, baby. Show me those pretty eyes," he murmurs, kissing your tears of frustration away. He knows how bad it must suck to be kept on the edge for so long, especially with his constant pace. It's only enough to make you crave more of him, but be would be lying if he said he wasn't getting off to the sounds you let out. "Baby..." he coos, his nose buried in your neck. "You wanna cum?"

The question finally gets a reaction that isn't whimpering and sobbing out of you. You nod your head, frantically, your glossy eyes opening and darting around the room as you try to readjust your vision to the light. Satoru licks a stripe up the side of your neck, an airy chuckle leaving him when you shudder at how he transitions into sucking on your delicate skin immediately after. The tears you shed clumped your eyelashes together, making them appear as thick spikes whenever you looked up or lidded your gaze.

He pulls away from the fresh marks on your skin, admiring them for a few seconds before casting his attention towards your puppy eyed expression, resulting from the sudden stillness of his hips.

"Look at my pretty girl," he says, his tone provocative as he allows his eyes to rake over your trembling body and pretty, yet, ruined demeanor. "You deserve everything you want in the world, don't you?"

You can't find the words to respond to him when he holds your chin between his fingers and starts tilting it in every which way to get a look at all the new decorations he left on you. He ends the inspection by turning your head back to its original position, his gaze centered on yours.

Satoru has always been fascinated by your eyes, despite having the most enchanting eyes himself. He loves the color of them, and the way they express what you feel so well, when you can't. He loves how they're gleaming with more tears that are ready to cascade down your cheeks. You're damn near angelic.

"Don't you?" He repeats, a soft smile on his face as he runs his fingers over your ribs.

"Yes! I-I do, Satoru!" You break. "Please," your voice goes quiet towards the end, a weak cry for mercy. You squirm beneath the ghost-like touch of his lithe fingers, indirectly trying to get some friction for your neglected clit, which only earns you more limitation when he realizes and presses his palms down onto your hips to hold you steady.

"I've been telling you this all along, babe." He tsks, playfully. "Too bad you don't agree with me until your back is against the wall, or in this case, the mattress." He kisses along your collarbones, then your chin, and keeps going up until he's face to face with you again. He presses his forehead against yours, not caring that it's a little sticky with sweat. "You're a good girl who deserves the world and more," he whispers. "You won't cum until you learn this lesson." He nuzzles his nose against yours, smiling innocently when you let out a weighted whimper. "Love you, baby."

Thus began one of the longest nights you've had with Satoru. There was lots of instruction, lots of validation, and so much repetition of affirmations he needed you to carry in your mind at all times. Throughout the night, there was enough patience to fill three humans. All of it came from Satoru, and by the end, there was a blissful expression on the face of someone who got so many deserved, mind-numbing orgasms, that they blacked out—you.

[honeylations]

HUH YUNJIN x FEM!READER

Prompt: With Le Sserafim in New York and you coincidentally having a runway show, she makes the time to meet up with you

Warnings/Notes: G!p Yunjin, eventual smut, model reader, golden retriever Yunjin

“So I have a confession to make” Yunjin randomly blurts out during game night in some New York Hotel.

Sakura had just rolled the monopoly dice and took hold of her cat piece. “What is it?”

“You’re gay?” Eunchae sarcastically question, earning an eye roll from the American.

“We’ve established that already, yes, but no that’s not what I was gonna say”

“It better be worth pausing this Monopoly game because I am becoming richer by the second” Chaewon smirked and showed off her buildings in majority of the board.

“So I have a girlfriend” Yunjin breathed out, feeling the weight roll off her shoulders.

The red head doesn’t know why she felt the need to keep it a secret from her girls. It wasn’t like she was scared that they wouldn’t support her, it was more of the fact that she gets nervous about almost anything.

And Eunchae may also be a little of bit of a big mouth.

Once a small detail goes through the maknae’s ear, the whole kpop industry suddenly knows.

“Oh? Congratulations Yunjin!” Kazuha applauded excitedly, even giving her member a quick hug.

“I’m surprised you can even pull” Chaewon teased, feeling a wad of monopoly cash slapped in her face. “Ow!”

“Eat shit. Anyways, she’s super awesome~”

This particular side of Yunjin was an easy way for the members to bully her love struck puppy personality and Yunjin knew she wouldn’t be able to defend herself.

“What’s her name?” Eunchae was the one to ask, already planning on texting Kyujin about the news.

Yunjin fiddled with her fingers and giggled like a school girl. “Park Y/n”

All girls sat up on their knees with eyes wider than saucers. “WHAT???”

“THE MODEL?”

“THAT HOTTIE?”

“Kill yourself Yunjin, there’s no way you’re dating THE PARK Y/N”

Yunjin slapped Chaewon with the monopoly cash again, tired of her teasing. “If you don’t believe me, she’s having a runway show tomorrow night. You can come with if you’d like. She can get us front row seats”

The eyes have gone wider and jaws were dropped.

“FRONT ROW TICKETS TO A RUNWAY SHOW?!?!” Sakura jumped up and about, squealing so high that the windows shook.

“I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll message Y/n and let her know” Yunjin said with a smile.

“It’s a coincidence that you both are in New York right now” The leader hummed and took her turn in rolling the dice.

She did a small fist pump when it landed on a double 6.

“Yeah I know, I’m just as surprised as you are. I’m planning to take her out on a date here soon and even introduce her to my family”

“Awwww our Yunjinie is such a good girlfriend~” Sakura smirked and playfully shook the taller member around.

Kazuha did a small applause. “I can’t wait to see her on the runway!”

The following night of the said Runway Show…

“Yunjin can you sit still?” Chaewon had hissed.

Chaewon could’ve been louder but she’d make a total fool of herself in front of the entire audience as the show was going. Well, not much of a fool as Yunjin right now.

The red head was fussing about in her seat, trying her best to get a clear view of whenever your turn was.

Which was literally in a second.

As you began strutting down with you beautiful model face, Yunjin squealed and started shaking her sign around that read: ‘I LUV Y/N <3’

“Wooohooooo! Go baby! You look so beautiful! Oh wow yayyyyy!~”

The Le Sserafim girls looked at their American member in disbelief. Did she suddenly forget she was an idol too?

“Huh Yunjin just how unprofessional are you gonna get?! Give me that and sit still!!” Chaewon growled, snatching the poster from Yunjin.

“Whatever. My girlfriend’s turn is over anyways” The red head grumbled before pursing her lips and waiting for the rest of the show to finish.

It felt like hours for Yunjin, but within minutes you had your bag over your shoulder and approaching your girlfriend and her group.

“Bebby!~” Yunjin made grabby hands and ran to you like an actual puppy seeing its owner.

Which was not much of a surprise for anyone.

“Must you be so loud whenever I’m on the runway? Be professional next time” You scolded but also melted into your girlfriend’s embrace where her large hands rested on your small waist.

She was squishing her cheek against your head and slowly pulled back with imaginary flat guilty ears. Her boba eyes grew wider and your body melted further. It was hard trying to maintain your nonchalant personality when your girlfriend was this fricking cute.

“I’m sorry bebby. I couldn’t help it. You look so pretty…I mean you always look pretty hehe”

You tried to be annoyed by her unprofessionalism but your smirk ruined it.

And Yunjin’s abrupt peck to your lips. “Mwah! Love you bebby”

“Ugh Yunjin quit being a love sap and introduce us to your girlfriend” You heard Chaewon hiss from afar.

“Right. Bebby, this is Kim Chaewon, our leader. Her temper is as short as her height-OW!”

“Piece of shit” The short blonde gritted her teeth when she slapped the back of Yunjin’s head.

“This is Miyawaki Sakura, the eldest. Then there’s me, your cute adorable girlfriend. And then Nakamura Kazuha, our Samoyed”

“Samoyed?” You repeated in question with a smile.

“Apparently that’s how my personality is” Kazuha shrugged and grinned, letting you slowly see why she got the title.

“Last but not least our baby girl, Hong Eunchae! We spoil her with love”

You softly pinched the youngest’s cheek and smiled at her giggle. “Definitely deserves to be spoilt. It’s a pleasure to finally meet Le Sserafim” you spoke calmly.

“Congrats on your runway event Y/n, you looked beautiful” Kazuha complimented sweetly.

“Thank you Kazuha, I’m glad you liked it. Yunjin told me you’d all be in New York so I thought it would be nice to get you girls a gift” you said with a smile and your manager instantly appeared with 4 bags of designer items that you collaborated with.

“Oh wow these are limited edition! Thank you so much Y/n Unnie!” Eunchae squealed with eyes as bright as the sun.

You would’ve thought she was Yunjin’s sister from how big her smile was. “You’re welcome Eunchae. Enjoy your time in New York”

“I will Unnie, I really will!”

“I’ll be going out with Y/n tonight for our date, I’ve already informed Manager-nim” Yunjin quickly reminded to Chaewon specifically in hopes she wouldn’t go ballistic but the leader hummed and nodded anyways.

“No worries. We’ll get going now. Oh and Yunjin-ah” Chaewon quickly called.

Yunjin’s brow raised in curiosity. “Hm?”

“Don’t stay out too late okay? We got content to film”

Yunjin saluted like a dork. “Ay ay captain!”

“Idiot. Take care and it was lovely meeting you Y/n!”

You waved at the girls but could feel Yunjin’s puppy eyes on you again. “What are you staring at?”

“Just how beautiful my girlfriend is. I love you bebby” she said and kissed your temple.

“Ugh. I love you too. Now where are you taking me tonight hm? You look so handsome” you smirked up at her and adjusted her blue button up long sleeve which was open at the collar.

“It’s a surprise bebby. This night will be memorable”

Well Yunjin wasn’t technically lying when she said memorable. She took you to a beautiful Italian restaurant, then surprising you with a bouquet of roses, and finally taking you on a walk by the beach where the moon shined bright.

Of course it wasn’t gonna just end there.

Because now you found yourself riding your girlfriend’s big cock in your hotel room. Both of your clothes thrown somewhere you’d have to dig through later but right now you were focused on milking your sexy girlfriend and the way she was STILL looking at you with those boba eyes.

“F-Fuck, stop looking at me like that” you moaned.

“Mmm, can’t help it. My girl is just so pretty riding me”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you clawed onto her shoulder harder, feeling the tip of her dick reach deeper into your pussy. “You drive me crazy, baby”

Not needing to say another word, Yunjin quickly admired the hickeys she scattered all over your neck and collarbones, then giving into her cravings of your lips. She made the kiss slow, letting her tongue work around yours and felt the movement of your hips falter.

But your tone got louder, shamelessly moaning into your girlfriend’s mouth that some of your saliva went down your chin.

“Tired, Princess?” She whispered into your mouth.

You nodded at her, being enough of a sign for Yunjin to lift you up and make you lay face first and ass up. You supported your balance by leaning on your elbows and looking back at your girlfriend who rubbed your ass and inserting her fat cock back inside your sopping cunt.

“A-Ah!”

“Always tight for me aren’t you, Y/n? My good girl”

You moaned into the sheets from the use of your name instead of her usual nickname for you. One of the things you loved so much about Yunjin was how different she was during sex. She can be vanilla if she wanted to, but Yunjin thought where the fun was in that?

She loved making you wither under her touch. Hearing you cry for her name and beg for her to please you in all the right ways.

“Mmhm right there baby!” You screamed at the inhumane pace Yunjin was going at, the slapping sounds echoing throughout the room (and probably even outside the entire hotel).

Yunjin towered her body over your back and trailed kisses at your jaw, feeling her smile against your skin. “Your pussy is sucking me in so nice, baby. Gonna fill it up with so much of my cum. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You nodded, clearly too tired to properly answer and the abrupt hold on your jaw made your eyes go wide. Yunjin squeezed your mouth open. “Open up and tongue out, darling”

Doing so, the red head spat on your tongue and forcefully closed your mouth before holding your throat. “Swallow.”

She hummed in satisfaction at your obedience, the knot in her stomach growing. “Hmm fuck, gonna cum Princess”

“Yes yes please cum in me, Yunnie” you mumbled with tears.

Yunjin was panting in your ear before releasing an aggressive groan, her hips snapping in a harsh but slower pace as she reached her peak. You felt the warm flood of cum fill your needy pussy to the brim, Yunjin then slowly pulling herself out to watch your creamy pussy leak.

“So hot” you exhaled, using two fingers to scoop the liquid and popping them into your mouth. “So tasty”

Yunjin guided you to lay your body down with your head on her chest, then pulling the covers over your sweaty bodies. She kissed your head and spent a few minutes helping you calm down by rubbing circles on your back. “You okay, bebby?”

“Yeah. We haven’t fucked in so long, I almost passed out”

“I missed you so much, bebby. Sorry we haven’t been going out lately”

You shook your head and placed multiple kisses on your girlfriend’s face. “Don’t apologise, my love. We still call all the time so just hearing your voice brings me satisfaction”

Yunjin smiled at your words. “Did you want to join us tomorrow? We won’t show your face on the cameras. As long as I’m with you, I don’t care about anything else”

“You know I have a photoshoot tomorrow, babe and plus I think your fans will go on a killing spree if they see us together”

Yunjin pouted. “I won’t let them touch you, bebby. I’ll use my magic force field to protect you”

You laughed into her neck and pinched her sides. “You’re such a dork”

“A dork you’re super in love with, am I right?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Yes. A dork I’m super duper in love with”