#I don’t even reply to his bubble messages half of the time

[jenscx]

LOVE ME BACK — yu jimin

after a nasty breakup with your boyfriend of two years, you find solace in a bar and a mystery woman’s arms. you were convinced it was just a one time thing. yet, you didn’t expect to see her again at your workplace.

TAGS — fluff, lowk crack, suggestive themes, mentions of sex and alcohol, ceo!rina, office au, reader has a boyfriend (at first), hwang hyunjin as plot device, mentions of cheating, probably a hr violation, jealousy, hidden relationship, cursing

WORDCOUNT — 10.3k

when you were younger, your dream was to be an astronaut. now in your early twenties, you’ve succumbed to the average 9-5 job that every adult hates. your job was a pain in the neck, figuratively and literally. staring at a computer all day was tough work, but if you said that out loud, you would seem like a lunatic.

your hands dance bleakly across the keyboard, fingers tapping insistently to finish the report. maybe you would even get home on time today. a vibration from your phone distracts your focus, a message from your boyfriend.

staring at the notification, you sigh and pick up your phone to text back. it’s a chain of messages, ranging from urgent calls to angry scoldings. your eyes narrow as a call comes in, displaying, hyun ♡.

“hyunjin oppa,” you whisper, “i’m at work.”

“you’re still at work? i thought i told you that my sister’s visiting today? my mum’s cooking for you.”

groaning internally, you reply softly, “i’m really sorry but this report will probably take half an hour more. tell unnie and auntie i’ll be late.”

hyunjin’s voice rings through the phone, irritated, “i told you about it. did you forget or are you just not willing to spend time with my family?”

“i didn’t forget, seriously, and you know i love your family and your mum’s cooking.”

that’s kind of a lie. you weren’t really welcomed with his family. his mother had objected to your relationship from the get go. his father was cold and indifferent. his sister was the only one who actually talked to you. but his mother’s cooking was good.

“you’re prioritising your work over spending time with me,” hyunjin states.

“i made this clear from the start,” you pinch your nose bridge, “my job always comes first.”

his annoyed tone shines through, bright as day, “i don’t get why you’re still working at that firm. i can provide for the both of us.”

you sigh, frustrated at hyunjin’s insolence.

“i enjoy this job,” a lie, “i don’t want to just stay in my apartment all day with nothing to do and i worked hard to get here.” true.

“that’s why you should just move in with me.” with that mother of his? no way in hell.

“i like my apartment,” you say firmly, glancing at the unfinished report open, “oppa, if you’re just going to scold me, at least do it later. i’m working now.”

“you’re always working. how can you work so much? y/n, are you preoccupied with something else? or someone?”

anger bubbles lowly in your veins.

“what on earth are you saying?”

“i’m saying that you may be busy with someone. whatever, if you’re always working, let’s just end things here. i can’t always be waiting for you at home.”

“you don’t make time for me either. on my off-days, you always hang out with your friends. how many dates have you cancelled?”

“i’m sorry i have a social life. my life doesn’t revolve around spending time with you. if you have a problem with it, let’s break up.”

you roll your eyes. you would be amused at how a 24 year old would think so irrationally, if that 24 year old wasn’t breaking up with you right now. your hand forms a fist on the table. maybe hyunjin was fine with lazing around at home, letting his mother serve him like a maid. but you weren’t. hyunjin didn’t have any ambitions, dropping out of college after his first year, claiming it was too difficult. you had only cooed at him gently, his first and only year at college was when you met him and started dating.

“fine. let’s break up as you wish. ask yeji unnie to pack my things at your house, i’ll pick it up—”

the call ends abruptly, you’re baffled at his childish antics. groaning, you throw your head into your hands. was your two year relationship really ending here? over a phone call? tossing your phone to the side, you perk up, determined to take your mind off your boyfriend. you still had a job to do after all.

yet, the thought of losing the two years you’ve spent with hyunjin makes you frown. he wasn’t a bad boyfriend. he was a nice guy, most of the time. he was a man after all, he had his stupid moments. spending two years with him meant that some part of you actually liked him. maybe not to the extent of love. you’ve never thought about it.

is that why he broke up with you? because you weren’t in it for love? was hwang hyunjin just another guy for you to past time with? if you couldn’t find love with a guy like hyunjin, who’s good looking and well-mannered, who could you find love with? were you some emotionless robot who didn’t care for others’ feelings?

forcefully removing these persisting questions from your head, you focus on the report. missing fabric, wrong dimensions, plagiarised designs, what was wrong with this fashion company?

“sunbae, still not clocking out?” kim minjeong, the new intern and coincidentally, your junior from high school, peeks above your computer. you shake your head, smiling sheepishly at her, “don’t call me sunbae, I’m ms seo right now.”

minjeong pouts, “sorry, i’m just not used to it. and you’re only like, a year older. want me to wait for you?”

you eye the report with distain, grimacing, “it’s okay, minjeong. you can go first, i think this will take a long time.”

the younger girl nods and quickly leaves. you’ve never wished you were someone else so badly before. your eyes follow minjeong from her cubicle to the lift. you slap your cheeks, willing yourself to focus.

after a few excruciating long hours, you clap your hands merrily, eyes gleaming with excitement and happiness. the stupid report was finally finished! you hum happily as you pack up your things. once you had picked up your bag, a notification graces your phone.

swiping up, it’s a text from yeji, warning you that hyunjin had left the house urgently. concerned, but not panicking, you reply saying that maybe he went out for fresh air. yeji’s next few messages are about how their mother is blaming you for hyunjin’s bad mood.

whatever. you can’t find it in yourself to care.

still overjoyed by the fact you had finished the mundane report, you head down to the lobby, grinning. a few employees who were still there eyed you weirdly but you brushed them off. today was a good day, despite stupid hyunjin.

as the doors open, you bring out your phone. no new messages from hyunjin or yeji. maybe it was partially your fault for making promises you couldn’t keep. ugh. the late night graces your presence, streets filled with busy cars. you check the time, 8pm. you should take your mind off hyunjin. and what better way to do so than to go get drunk?

you quickly text yizhuo, who’s probably also drinking right now.

seo y/n [8.26pm]:

are u at jiwoong’s bar?

i just ended

ning yizhuo [8.27pm]:

how’d you know?

i’m drinking with chenle

come unnie

chenle? you furrow your brows. wasn’t he that super rich kid who yizhuo plays video games with? ah, whatever, you seriously need to get drunk now.

swiftly hauling down a cab (honestly, props to you. calling a taxi at night was basically war), you make your way to the bar.

it’s a relatively new establishment, furnished with matte dark oak floorings and a sleek marble bar. it was the closest bar to your workplace, making it a common meeting area for you and your co-workers. normally, during the last day of each month, team manager kim would bring you to go drinking. you push at the doors, the sight of two figures yelling at each other greet you. usually, you would have ignored it. it’s a bar, it’s common to have drunk people fighting. yet, when you squinted closely, realisation struck you.

“hyunjin?” you gasp, “what are you doing here?”

your ex-boyfriend swerves around, eyes blazing with fury as yizhuo curses at him.

“where were you?” he demands, “i texted you multiple times.”

you turn on your phone, grimacing at the countless messages.

“it was on silent mode. if you want to talk, let’s go outside, don’t disturb the people here.”

yizhuo attempts to follow but you just hold a hand out. if hyunjin hurt yizhuo, you would never forgive yourself. besides, this was something you had to do alone.

begrudgingly, hyunjin agrees and exits the bar. out in the street, you take note of his dishevelled self.

“why’d you decide to come here? i know you’re here to find another guy. who is it? i’ll fucking kill him,” hyunjin seethes. you notice the slight flush in his face. was he drunk?

unable to remain passive, you say firmly, “hyunjin, you said you wanted to break up. now that i’ve seen you, let’s break up.”

“are you fucking serious?” he asks incredulously, “i came all the way here to find you and you are the one breaking up with me?”

you retort, “you are the one who said you want to end things. if i found another guy, so what? we’re not dating anymore.”

your last few words hit a nerve. hyunjin’s hands fly out to grab your arms, furiously digging his fingernails into your wrists.

“i’ll fucking kill you if you leave me for another man, don’t test me seo y/n,” he growls. disgusted, you try to escape from his hold. being taller and a guy, he’s obviously stronger. you feel your skin breaking at the edge.

“let go!” you grit your teeth, trying to pry his fingers off. he relentlessly grips on, even managing to avoid any attempts of your escape.

slow, steady footsteps approach. you notice the look of anxiety on hyunjin’s face. what would this look like to an outsider? his grip doesn’t lessen however. the figure opens the doors, raising an eyebrow.

“what the hell are you looking at?” hyunjin snarls. your eyes fly to the stranger. it’s a woman, thank god.

despite your current predicament, you can’t help but admire the woman staring at you. her face was sculpted by the gods; dark, deep, hypnotising eyes, a tall nose bridge, red, full lips that formed a thin line.

“why are you assaulting a woman?” god, you could just die hearing her voice. husky and intimidating, hyunjin was practically quivering in his feet.

“i-i’m not doing anything! you’re the one staring at us, bitch.”

her eyes narrow and she scoffs, “did your mother teach you any manners? i was just concerned for her safety,” she gestures to you, “it seems as if you’re holding her here, unwilling to let go.”

“i’m not doing jackshit.”

your eyes bore into her, calling out for help.

“ah,” the stranger inches closer, fingers trailing from your shoulder to your arm. you shudder at her touch. she smirks, “why don’t you let her go now? or should i call the police on you, hwang hyunjin?”

hyunjin’s face turns red. nervousness grows at the sight of his anger.

“how the fuck do you know my name?”

she tilts her head, reminiscent of a curious puppy, “oh, don’t you know who i am? tell your father if his son acts up again, we might not continue our deal.”

“how do you know my dad?” hyunjin yells, “and what deal do you have with him?”

“i’m your father’s biggest business partner. how would he feel if he found out he lost his company because of his idiot son? or would you want me to reveal some of your own secrets? what’s her name, jiyeon?”

your eyes widen at the mention of hyunjin’s ex. he had broken up with lee jiyeon months before meeting you. why was this stranger bringing her up again? and how did she know so much?

hyunjin glances at you, “don’t you fucking dare.”

by now, hyunjin had let go of your hand entirely. the stranger just sighs dramatically and stares at her fingernails.

“hyunjin-ssi, you really have a knack for being a public nuisance. i just wanted a drink, and my precious evening was interrupted by you screaming. ah, should you really be concerned about your ex-girlfriend finding a new guy? haven’t you already done so while still in the relationship?”

in a second, hyunjin lunges for the stranger. his hands fly out to grab at her hair, but she manages to dodge the sudden attack. frowning at hyunjin, the stranger finally scoffs, “you’re pathetic. don’t you dare touch my clothes, they’re designer. leave now before i call the cops on you.” despite his anger, hyunjin actually looks spooked and quickly stomps away. thank god. she swats off the imaginary dust on her shoulders and turns to you.

in contrast to before, she sends a small smile, “you did a good job breaking up with this idiot.”

“thank you for saving me.”

she shrugs, “it’s all right. he was being a nuisance.”

“i’m sorry…” you ask, “but how did you know so much about hyunjin?”

“i deal with the hwang group. i have met his father on several occasions. sometimes, he has to clean up his son’s mess. most of the time, he can’t do it alone. hence, he finds us,” her smile turns into a grimace, “i apologise that someone like him has been taking advantage of you. i assure you that hwang hyunjin and park jiyeon will be taken care of.”

“no, it’s okay, i kind of had a feeling already,” you hesitate to reach out to her, “uhm, can i know your name?”

the stranger adjusts her clothes; a black pantsuit. your eyes trail down from her face to her luminous black hair. they follow the shape of her jawline, sharp as a knife, down to her collarbones. you unconsciously swallow your saliva.

“you can call me jimin,” she says, taking a piece of card out from her pocket, handing it to you. your eyes skim the details. yu jimin. nothing else is on the card except for a phone number. “what can i call you?”

“y/n, seo y/n.”

“if you find yourself in another situation as such, i will do my best to help, y/n.”

you can’t believe a woman like her is pledging her assistance to you.

unable to control yourself, you blurt out, “what can i do to repay you?”

jimin’s eyes form into slits, crinkling into a devilish smile.

“what are you insinuating?”

everything around you is soft, pillowy and warm. except for one. the incessant buzzing of something. it snaps you out of your reverie. groaning loudly, you throw your hand to reach out for the device causing the vibration. your fingers hit an unfamiliar surface. since when did you have a bedside table this close? eyelids fluttering open, you regain consciousness.

“what the hell?” you say out loud, sitting upright in bed. your phone lays beside you, its buzzing unable to distract you from what you’re seeing. white silk sheets covered your bare body, which was littered with bite marks and hickeys. it trailed on from your neck to the dip in your hips. lingering bruises were left on your thighs too.

oh fuck.

you were screwed.

grasping your phone, you scan the room for your clothes. finally catching sight of your scattered clothes, you gently pick them up, face turning red at the sight of your well-marked body. your purse and belongings are littered all over the floor as well. a disgruntled groan emits from the bunched up blankets. it’s only now you realise there’s a person below it, snoring peacefully.

wincing at the slight soreness in your lower body, you gently throw the duvet cover off you and slowly put on your clothes, afraid of disturbing the sleeping woman. taking one last look at the bed, a mop of black hair contrasting the pale serene face below.

running your hands through your hair to comb the mess, you rush out of the bedroom. the sight before you leaves you in awe. whoever this jimin person was, her apartment was amazingly furnished. whatever, you shake your head before you could be further distracted.

there’s countless messages left by yizhuo, all inquiring about your whereabouts. shit. you forgot to tell her. after assuring her that you were alive and not kidnapped, you quickly navigate your way back home. surprisingly, jimin’s modern apartment wasn’t far away from yours, despite the contrast between the two homes. you could infer accurately that karina was some wealthy bachelorette who held power. between her penthouse and the conversation with hyunjin, she was probably a high rank in the business industry.

after reaching your house, you take a much needed shower and slip into a white button up blouse and a black pencil skirt. this was your usual office attire. thankfully, as you had finished the looming report the previous night, you didn’t have to get to the office early. finishing up with some light makeup, you head out satisfied. the soreness in your lower body serves as a constant reminder of the activities you took part in. at least you didn’t have a hangover.

entering the lounge, you spot your colleagues all conversing with one another. minjeong seems to be in a heated debate. your eyes dart to the figure standing by the counter.

“good morning, ms seo,” you bow when team manager kim greets you. kim gaeul, two years your senior, and somewhat of a friend.

“good morning,” you reply. gaeul is sipping on the coffee from the cafe opposite. she gestures towards the paper bag on the counter, “there’s a latte in there for you. good job on the report, i read it this morning.”

you beam at the manager, “thank you so much.” desperately, you chug the latte, relieved that you had caffeine in your body to survive the day ahead. gaeul stares at you in amusement before clearing her throat, “now that everyone is here, i would like to announce that a new ceo will be coming.”

there’s some mutters and murmurs of confusion.

“our current ceo will be resigning,” gaeul says, a fixed smile on her face, “hence the need for a new ceo. she will be here shortly. at ten, please gather in the meeting room so she can introduce herself to all of us.”

you check the time, it was forty past nine. the new ceo will be coming soon. was there enough time to get any work done before she arrived? probably not. you sit down next to minjeong on the couch. she catches you mid yawn.

“sunbae, did you get enough sleep?” your ears blush at the memory of what happened.

“maybe i didn’t sleep well,” you say. minjeong nods, a look of pity on her face, “you must have gotten home late because of that report.”

you scratch your neck, “yeah, i got home pretty late.”

“maybe you can take a quick nap? you still have twenty minutes, i’ll wake you up.”

shaking your head, you chuckle, “it’s okay, minjeong. i’ll get through the day. at least team manager kim got us all coffee.”

despite your words, you find your eyelids fluttering close every second. maybe you should really take a nap. the events of the previous night had left you incredibly tired. breaking up with hyunjin was emotionally draining, whereas jimin… you rid the thoughts from your brain. it would serve you no good to be thinking about her right now. she was just a helpful woman who you repaid by sleeping with. at least it was enjoyable. you certainly enjoyed the feel of her warm body against yours. even before you start to reminisce, minjeong jolts upwards and exclaims, “time to go meet the ceo!”

the rest of the group follows suit, heading towards the lift. you wearily drag yourself to follow along, an arm looped through minjeong for support.

“y’all think she’ll be pretty?” a voice rings out from the crowd.

“aren’t most ceos like forty years old?”

“women don’t expire past the age of forty, mark,” you retort. mark only smirks, “maybe she’ll be a hot cougar.”

you roll your eyes at his words, yet you can’t help but imagine what the new ceo would be like. would she be intimidating? confrontational? you just hope she won’t be unreasonable. god knows you need a break from this absurd company. the only good thing about it was its pay and the people you work with.

“quiet down everyone,” gaeul says, “she’s coming soon, please be on your best behaviour.” she shoots a look at the rowdy group of guys nearer to the back. you try to inch closer to the front, the denial of your curiosity itching at you. despite your tired state, there was still some interest in the next ceo. “there she is!” minjeong whispers loudly.

your head flies to look up, mouth agape as your eyes bore into the woman’s frame. under the exquisite fabric draped over her, you could still sense her elegance. the way her steps echoed against the tiles, commanding everyone’s attention. your heart drops at the familiarity.

oh.

oh no.

below her bright red, glossy lips, resides a beauty mark.

you remember your own lips moulding against hers from the night before. the feel of her burning skin on top of your equally desperate body. her lingering touches, fingers tracing down from your collarbone.

“she’s pretty,” minjeong blurts out. you nod.

she was a goddess, aphrodite incarnated. you distinctively recall how sweet her words were, how her voice toned down to a husky drawl, whispering the things she would do to you. a shiver runs down your body, you clench your fists. how were you getting riled up over a memory?

your eyes follow her as she turns to face everyone. her face remains impassive as she addresses the crowd, “i am your ceo, karina.” cold, narrow eyes flick through the gathering, eventually meeting yours. if anyone else had looked closer, they would have noticed the shock in the way her eyes widen ever so slightly. yet, she swiftly regains herself.

“please do carry on as usual,” she says, you can’t believe she’s the same person as the jimin from last night, “i will be conducting a meeting later. do not be late.”

as her footsteps recede, you let out an exhale of breath. having her eyes on you made it hard to breathe, she literally took your breath away. minjeong eyes you curiously, but the crowd quickly disperses, sensing that karina was not to be messed with. they would rather get back to their jobs than deal with an angry ceo.

after heading back up, you finally sit down on your office chair, finding it more comfortable than usual. normally, it felt like it was forcing your spine in the most unnatural way. yet, after that interaction with jimin, you found solace in it.

“guys! ceo wants everyone in the meeting room now!” gaeul’s head pops out from the room, hurriedly gesturing for everyone to come. you reluctantly rise and walk to the room slowly. jimin’s already standing inside, a stony look on her face as she analyses a file of papers, presumably reports.

once everyone had entered and were settled down, jimin places the file back on the table, eyes roaming around as she says, “this company will collapse within a year’s time if i did not take the offer to buy it. hence, starting from now, there will be extreme changes.”

you take a gulp.

“first of all, we have to start investing more of our time into doing trade and business with others. isolating ourselves and believing that we can become successful without the help of others is idiotic,” jimin explains, “we should take the initiative and with someone like me at the helm, this company will flourish.” she hands out an assortment of papers around the room.

“this will tell you everything you need to know about your duties as an employee of this company. do take the time to read through thoroughly. i assure you with such a strategy, no one will need to work more than they have to.”

you can see some impressive looks from your colleagues. jimin was definitely a strong ceo, you already knew from how well-connected she was. yet, this would be your first time seeing her work ethic in action.

“everyone is dismissed. however,” jimin turns back around, eyes gleaming with mirth, “seo y/n, i want to meet you in my office.”

every inch of you freezes up. you sense some curiosity lingering around your colleagues, especially minjeong who offers a comforting pat on your shoulder. jimin’s lips form a devilish smile, akin to the one you saw previously. you sigh, already regretting all life choices thus far.

the door closes shut behind you. jimin sits down in her luxurious and pristine office chair. you kind of envy her.

a moment of silence passes before jimin speaks, “i did not expect to see you here.”

“neither did i,” you answer back. her appearance was a shock.

she chuckles slowly, “after leaving me in bed alone, with no note or anything, should i fire you?”

your eyes widen. what the hell? wasn’t this an abuse of authority? she couldn’t fire you that easily, right? over something that wasn’t even related to your job!

“you seem to not be able to finish your job, seo y/n,” jimin spins a fountain pen between her fingers. your gaze darts from the swirling pen to her face. indifferent, yet a hint of amusement.

“i assure you i am a hard worker and the night before is not related to my work ethic,” you reply.

jimin laughs, “do you not know how upset i was when i did not feel a body next to me? my sheets tidied up neatly, clothes gone and not a single hint of you left behind.”

“last night was a one-time thing,” you state firmly, “it will not happen again as i intend it to.”

the ceo’s eyes rake down your body, seemingly turning into satisfaction as she smiles, “you do not intend for it to happen again?”

“i… thank you for saving and helping me with my ex-boyfriend, but you’re my boss now and it’s probably a workplace violation.”

“so it is not because you do not want to, more so you feel that you are not allowed to,” jimin bluntly says. she’s right. you would like to indulge in the pleasure she provides once more, and continuously, but she’s your boss.

your silence speaks of your answer.

“it is unexpected that we have met under these circumstances. i won’t lie and say that i’m fine with forgetting about the night we spent together. huh. i wanted a date… yet, if you insist…”

jimin stands up from her desk, staring at the city skyline. you stare at her hooded eyes in the reflection of the window panel.

“you may leave,” she smiles, “but do call me karina and not jimin in front of others. they do not know my real name.”

you nod, unsure how to reply. were you meant to feel special that she had so willingly spared her real name to you? with others not privy of her name, you were the only one. jimin closes the door firmly behind you. you’re greeted by the sight of an anxious minjeong and a smirking mark lee.

“what did she say to you? and how did she know your name already?” minjeong asks hastily.

“just talking ‘bout work,” you answer smoothly, “we have a mutual friend.”

mark, bless him, adds on, “she’s prettier up close, right?”

“yeah,” you reply, cheeks reddening. you were well acquainted with her beauty by now, finding yourself momentarily starstruck.

“must be nice having the ceo know you,” minjeong says, sighing. you smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. was it really a blessing?

no, of course it wasn’t. you slept with your boss. unintentionally, in fact. you head back to your desk, hands almost ripping out your hair as you gaze at the closed door.

what have you gotten yourself into now?

you’re annoyed. irritated. angered. all because of your ceo. jimin doesn’t do anything outlandish, no. but she throws a mountain of work onto you. and only you. her previous promise of no one having to work more than they need to is out the window. you can only scoff, ashamed that you truly believed she would let you leave by five. however, it seems that jimin is rather petty. every time you snap back with a remark, she just smiles and places one more report on your desk a few minutes later. it’s maddening. was she not abusing her power?

the stack of papers on your desk feels never ending. compared to your colleagues, it’s clearly taller. even minjeong had commented about it. if the sudden increase of workload wasn’t enough, jimin also demanded you to do the most trivial things, such as fetching her coffee, shredding papers… did she not have enough money to afford a personal assistant? you were just an employee to the company. after bringing up your concerns to gaeul, the team manager merely shrugged, saying she could not do anything against the ceo. and it wasn’t as if jimin was outright abusing you. she was so clearly just messing with you!

(“you’re joking,” you gape at the pile of paperwork jimin was carrying to your table.

“how is this a joke to you?” jimin asks, a stern look on her face, but the small grin she wore betrayed her facade.)

this wasn’t any different from your life before the new ceo came. honestly, it might be worse. you had more work than ever, overtime was becoming a necessity in your life, and jimin just gets to prance around. you seriously had to take the initiative to discuss this, because what on earth.

finally deciding you had enough of jimin’s antics, you stand up from your desk, leaving the heaps of papers undone. determined, you take long strides, arriving at the door of jimin’s office. some of your colleagues eye you weirdly but they don’t make a sound. you just ignore them. not even knocking, you open the door. if jimin notices your presence, she doesn’t show it. her face is buried in a file, eyes darting from the report to the computer screen. you swallow, drawing courage from every fibre of your being.

“i need to talk to you.”

jimin’s head shoots up, an eyebrow raised. her bangs are parted today, no longer hovering over her eyes. the first few buttons of her black blouse are unbuttoned, revealing her carved collarbones. a pair of thick, black framed glasses rest on her sharp nose.

“about?”

“you’re messing with me,” you state.

the ceo stares. she looks rather dishevelled today, you wonder why.

“interesting. how did you come to that conclusion?” she asks, placing the file back onto her desk, her eyes fully focused on you now. trying to not get hypnotised by her forceful peering, you voice out, “you’ve been giving me more work than others. you always find some excuse to make me do stuff. i’ve worked here for three years and you’re making me an errand girl.”

it’s true. it feels like she’s just giving you filler work to do. there hasn’t been any improvement at all.

“i… i thought you would be different,” you admit, “different from our previous ceo. but it feels like nothing has changed. i’m still working overtime with no end in sight and it feels even worse than before.”

jimin doesn’t say a word. it’s the first time you’re saying this to anyone, your true feelings. jimin had made such big promises at the first meeting but after two months, there really wasn’t any change.

“i give you more work because you’re more capable,” jimin explains, a grim look on her face.

“that doesn’t excuse the fact you literally demand me to run around and make you coffee.”

“i can’t deny, that was for my personal amusement.”

your anger flares up, “see! you’re messing with me!”

“your reaction is funny,” she reasons weakly, “it’s really… i didn’t know it was taking a toll on you. i just wanted to see you get annoyed. you look cute when you’re grumpy.”

the previous frustration simmers down completely at her words. cute? was it appropriate for your boss to be saying this?

“what?”

jimin looks away shyly, a stark contrast to her intimidating facade, “i’ll try to restrain myself from now on… but i would like to talk to you about something as well.”

your curiosity is piqued. jimin’s face turns dark, her eyes narrowing as she asks, “are you and mark in a relationship?”

a gasp escapes your lips, because what the fuck?

“no, ew,” you instantly say, “mark acts like a kid.”

“so you have no romantic feelings for him?” jimin repeats.

“no, none at all.” somehow, you know why she’s even asking in the first place.

jimin frowns, “so why were you touching his face that day?”

you remember it vividly. mark was showing you the netflix movie, ‘365 days’ and stating that you could recreate it with jimin. he was joking with you, but you still got flustered. minjeong had been laughing so loudly it attracted the ceo to come into the break room. she has witnessed your hands grabbing mark’s collar, in the midst of threatening him.

“he was just saying something weird,” you mumble, not exactly willing to tell jimin she was the cause. the ceo nods. you can’t help but like this jimin slightly more than the brooding one. she seems more vulnerable today. more gentle and soft.

“okay,” jimin smiles, wider than usual, “you can leave now.”

you bow, slightly happier that the ceo was understanding of your concerns. maybe now you would get home on time, not that you had anyone waiting for you though. after your break up with hyunjin, you had increasingly found more alone time. sometimes you would spend the night with yizhuo, cooking dinner together. most times you would reach home and immediately fall asleep.

content with the meeting, you leave her office, bouncing back to your desk. the stack of papers feel considerably lighter knowing her true reasoning behind piling so much workload on you. perhaps she had more faith and trust in you. that made you feel proud.

a head peeks out above the partition.

“what did the boss talk to you about?” minjeong asks. you wave a hand at her, brushing her words off, “nothing really. karina was just telling me stuff about my job, giving comments, y’know.”

minjeong nods and ducks her head, returning to her work. you do the same, the weight previously resting on your shoulders significantly lighter. the day doesn’t seem so gloomy anymore.

you carry on typing with a small smile. unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes gaze through the blinds.

jimin stays true to her word. despite the heavier workload, your heart feels lighter that she acknowledged your ability. it doesn’t bother you anymore that minjeong and the rest of your colleagues can leave instantly while you stay for a bit longer to refine some finer details. deeply engrossed, you don’t notice the sudden pattering of raindrops splashing against the windows. and you definitely don’t notice the light in jimin’s office still on.

stretching your arms, you yawn, intending to go home. yet, the moment you start packing your bag, realisation strikes you that it was raining. raining heavily. as you try to decide your next move, the door to jimin’s office opens.

her head peeks out, a frown on her face as she calls out, “why are you still here?”

“i was doing something and i just lost track of time,” you explain. jimin’s head tilts. you internally coo at the similarity of her to a puppy.

she takes one look outside and asks, “how are you going to get home? don’t you take the bus?”

you scrunch your nose, trying to think of a way to return home without being caught in the rain but with no avail.

“no idea,” you shrug, “i might call my friend to pick me up or something. not sure if she’s busy though.”

jimin takes long strides towards you, “i can drive you home.”

your eyes widen considerably, “no, it’s really okay!” you don’t know what you would do enclosed in a small space with her without other people around. she looks extra delectable today as well. usually, her hair is neat and proper, but today it’s slightly messy and her bangs are swept to the side, exposing her forehead. she still wears the pair of attractive black glasses and she’s adorning a navy pantsuit today.

“as your boss,” jimin smiles, “i need to ensure that all my employees are cared for. i can’t have you coming to work sick, can i?” you can’t really fight her logic there. it makes sense, she wouldn’t want you to get sick because she would lose manpower. yet, the explanation digs a hole in your heart.

she’s your boss.

you glance at the rain splattering.

“okay. take me home.”

jimin’s smile widens. you walk together in silence to the elevator. only the soft humming of her voice fills in the gaps. the silence stretches on till you reach her car as well. it’s only when you try to enter the backseat, jimin says, “what are you doing? come sit here.” she pats the passenger seat. you follow her instructions like a dog with its owner.

as the ceo starts up the car, you notice small details of it. it’s clearly expensive, no doubt. the sleek leather you were sitting on just speaks for itself. jimin had an air freshener hanging from the mirror, the strangest thing was that it was a dinosaur smelling of vanilla. she had a small shiro, the dog from shin-chan, figurine posed on the dashboard. you quietly giggle at the cuteness of it all. jimin having adorable items accessorising her car was such a stark contrast to her distant and cold persona as your boss.

“that’s cute,” you point out. jimin glances at what you’re pointing at and her cheeks redden, “ah. do you like shin-chan too?”

“uh,” you blank out, “i guess so? i like boo.”

jimin beams.

“that’s amazing,” she says with all the sincerity in the world, “let’s watch shin-chan together someday.”

it’s a strange proposal, no doubt. but you find yourself nodding too soon. the grin you receive from jimin is well worth it though.

“you can key in your address here,” she hands you her phone. as you type, jimin continues talking, “i broke off my deal with hwang by the way. has he contacted you at all?”

you shake your head, “no, but his sister has been texting me. apparently he’s very disoriented and is always drunk. he got into a scandal recently for starting a fight at another bar.”

jimin sighs, one of bemusement, “i truly wonder where such men get their audacity from.” you giggle at her words.

“honestly, hyunjin is childish and immature but he’s a good guy,” you confess, “i don’t know why he suddenly turned into someone like that.”

the ceo falls silent. you wonder if you said something wrong. maybe you offended her in some way. gulping, you distract yourself by watching the scenery of urbanised skyscrapers.

“you’re giving him too much credit,” jimin says, “he’s always been like that. he’s just a good actor.”

“really?”

jimin nods firmly, “of course. and did you really like him? or did you just like having him around?”

you debate on answering. wasn’t this too personal for someone’s boss to ask? your eyes swerve to watch jimin’s grip tighten on the steering wheel, her small hands showing white knuckles.

“there’s many things that are mistaken for another, such as liking someone and liking the idea of them.”

“what other things are you talking about?” you ask, genuinely curious.

the traffic light turns red. jimin presses on the brakes, a smirk plastered on her face as she turns to you.

“like finding someone good-looking and attractive. i know i’m good-looking, but am i attractive to you, y/n?” she leans forward, her face inches away from yours. your eyes unintentionally trail down to her lips before snapping shut and turning away.

“don’t leave me hanging,” you can hear the damn pout in her voice. a warm hand leaves a fleeting touch on your arm as she pulls you to look back at her again.

you resist the urge to throw yourself out of the car.

“the light’s green,” your voice comes out almost as if you were constipated.

jimin lets out a hearty laugh.

“we can settle this debate back at yours, don’t you think?” your hands clench by your side, neck strained to crane your head away from looking at the delectable woman.

“i don’t think that’s appropriate,” is what you end up saying. jimin shrugs. your eyes are drawn to the smooth expanse of her hands that rest against the steering wheel, and the way her knuckles unintentionally flex when turning.

“we’re far past appropriation,” she states, amused.

shrugging, you stare at the outside scenery instead, ensuring that you wouldn’t be salivating at the sight of your boss.

jimin hums to the music playing in her car. you roughly recognise it as a song from the pokemon anime ost. somehow, it’s totally believable that this domineering boss could also have a silly and endearing side to her. it was yu jimin after all.

“what are you thinking so hard about?”

you.

“work.”

“what about it? is the workload too heavy for you?” the concern in her voice makes you want to puke.

you shake your head.

“i’m just thinking… about that day,” you decide to answer truthfully.

jimin tilts her head, “what day?”

“you know…” it comes out in a hushed and embarrassed whisper, “that day.”

either jimin’s stupid or she’s just playing dumb. she stares at you, confused. you make some inappropriate gestures with your fingers, until she lights up in recognition.

“that day?” she repeats teasingly.

it’s not like you can ask her for a repeat of that day. you had literally stated outright that it was a one-time thing. she was your boss, for god’s sake. if you slept with her again, you would be breaking all sorts of violations.

“…it was nice…” your cheeks redden, “that’s all.”

the smirk on jimin’s face is unbearable. thank god you’re not the one driving, or you would have gotten a heart attack.

“want to do it again?”

your face gets undeniably hotter. redness flushes through your entire body as you cower.

there’s a moment of decision-making.

was it worth the risk to try again with jimin? for some reason, you know you’re past the phase of attraction. it’s pure interest for her now. you’re not sure if your heart’s fully beyond lust, but there’s something lingering that feels akin to adoration. there’s no doubt that you find jimin extremely good-looking, but like she said before, there was a difference. it’s unfortunate you’re attracted to her as well. maybe she already knew your answer, that’s why she didn’t push for you to reply.

(it would be a resounding yes.)

but jimin was still your boss. what if people in the company found out? they technically couldn’t do anything since jimin was already in the highest position, but if you had to suffer questioning looks and backhanded remarks from them, about how you achieved this job by sleeping around, it would break your heart.

and you don’t want a repeat of hyunjin. you don’t know if you’re ready for another relationship. at least now you’re aware you can actually feel things for others and you’re not some emotionless robot.

but something about jimin pulls you towards her. like two opposite poles of a magnet. there’s something so endearing yet mysterious about the girl that makes you want to try.

“we’re here already, i think my friend lives nearby here,” jimin says as she looks around. she’s parked along the road, your apartment just a few metres away.

you gulp, murmuring softly, “jimin.”

the ceo turns to you, like a little cat.

“can we try dating?”

jimin’s eyebrows shoot upwards, shock evident on her face. after all, you had rejected her not long ago.

“really?” she can barely contain her excitement.

“uh, yeah,” you’re a little uncomfortable with the way she’s staring at you so intensely.

happiness was coursing through her veins. jimin had never expected you would end up giving in. she had a whole plan in her head— first, get you riled up and then convince you to sleep with her again. her second phase consisted of insanely good aftercare that would definitely draw you in into her amazing personality. the last phase was just playing hard to get and making sure you wanted her badly. it seems like she skipped most of the steps. whatever, it doesn’t matter since she got the same end result.

“okay!” jimin beams.

you stare at her stunned.

“uh, so we’re dating now, right?” you repeat.

“mhm!”

her compliance makes you want to jump on her.

“let’s set some boundaries first, okay?”

jimin ponders for a bit before stating confidently, “i have no boundaries! you can do whatever you want.”

it’s a little riveting having her agree with whatever you say. her natural submission is jarring. you laugh, “that’s okay, but i have some rules.”

“go ahead!” jimin’s gazing at you, her eyes wide and rapt with attention. you hold out your hand, pointing at each individual finger, “one, no pda in the office, i don’t want to give people an opportunity to gossip.”

she nods. it would be hard to continue dating if people kept invading your privacy.

“two, we have to keep this a secret,” you continue, “and three, we’re not official yet okay? just dating for now. let’s take it slow.”

“mhm sure.”

“four, don’t call me any nicknames in the office, i’m just seo y/n and you’re karina.”

jimin smirks lazily, her hand resting against the wheel, “you’ll be yu y/n soon.”

“jimin,” you groan at her sleaziness.

“go on!”

you list off the final rule, “five, no special treatment just cause we’re dating. i don’t want people to think i’m getting more opportunities to do well just because we’re dating.”

the ceo blinks.

“okay.”

“okay?”

she hums, content, “yeah. i’m fine with all that.”

you breathe out shakily, “that’s good.”

“mhm. you should get going now,” jimin smiles, “it’s late.”

“right, okay. uh, see you tomorrow?”

the ceo tilts her head, a wide grin on her face, “see you tomorrow, baby.”

your face flushes red.

“jimin.”

“we’re not in the office!”

dating jimin is wonderful. she’s the sweetest and most caring girl on earth. everytime she does something even remotely romantic, you’re swept off your feet. despite your insistence to take it slow, you had only resisted at the start. now, after weeks of dating, you succumbed to jimin’s puppy eyes and begging.

wrapped in her embrace, you snuggle into the crook of her neck even deeper, breathing in her cologne.

jimin only tightens her arms. if it wasn’t for the fact that it was extremely comfortable, you would have complained that she was strangling you.

“baby,” she whispers, planting haste pecks all over your face.

that had been a recurring thing. you realised soon after the first week, jimin loved calling you baby. sometimes you wondered if she forgot your name and called you baby to hide it. the girl, obviously, denied it.

“hm?” your voice comes out muffled.

“you look really cute like this.”

you couldn’t disagree more. adorned in an old oversized sweatshirt that was literally disintegrating by the second, messy bed hair after the nap you had just taken, and a bare face that probably had drool all over.

meanwhile, jimin’s wearing a calvin klein hoodie with little boy shorts that exposed her bare legs. your own legs fitted nicely against hers, tangling your bodies together on the couch.

“i won’t get to see you tomorrow,” jimin says out of the blue.

“why? do you have something going on?”

the ceo groans heartily, “my friends want to have dinner together.”

this puts a frown on your face. originally, you had planned a cute little date for the two of you.

jimin, observant of your turmoil, only runs her fingers through your hair comfortingly, “i know, baby. but we don’t always get this chance. and it’s just dinner! just this once.”

you nod your head, burrowing further into her embrace. jimin only sighs happily, her hand trailing down from your head to your back, rubbing circles repeatedly.

“what are you wearing then?”

“maybe that dress that you really liked? or maybe a random pantsuit.”

you know which dress she’s talking about. an ivory coloured, strapless dress that accentuates her collarbones nicely.

“wear the pantsuit.” something about other people being able to see jimin in that dress doesn’t sit right with you.

a chuckle escapes her, “didn’t you say you liked the dress?”

shrugging, you reply nonchalantly, “don’t want anyone else seeing you in it.”

silence. then a high-pitched squeal.

“y/nnie, you’re so cute!” your head is dramatically pulled back from jimin’s neck and you come face-to-face with the ceo, who’s cooing at you incessantly. she plants multiple pecks all over your face whilst squeezing your jaw tightly.

“jimin!”

the girl finally pulls away from covering your face with kisses, but if it weren’t for her bright red lipstick, she would have seen how underneath all her kiss marks, your face was splashed with maroon.

“if you come with me, then can i wear that dress? i really want to wear it,” jimin pleads.

it's a fair deal in your opinion. you could spend time with her and being able to see jimin in that dress was just a plus. it just leaves the problem of jimin’s wandering hands. even in your office, her hands seem to have a mind of their own, constantly roaming around places they shouldn’t be. like how when you were brewing coffee one morning, jimin had snuck up behind and rested her hands on your waist, whispering a quiet greeting. thank goodness no one else was in the lounge. that surely would have started endless amounts of rumours.

“but we can’t kiss or hug there okay?” you reply, deciding to make a trade-off.

jimin pouts, but she ends up huffing and then nodding.

“just stay by my side. i’ll restrain myself.”

well, that turned out to be a lie.

despite her previous promise of keeping her hands to herself, they somehow ended up entangled in your own. one of her hands lingers between your shoulder blades, and in the car ride to the restaurant, it trailed down to the small of your back. you had scolded jimin for that.

even now, jimin still ensured she was somehow touching you. the restaurant was extremely high-end, evident from the menu which didn’t even have prices on them! you had gone through culture shock with that.

the table was surrounded with people you assumed held equally sophisticated titles, some of them stared at you with curiosity, probably wondering why a newcomer had arrived.

there were a few empty seats, but jimin had informed you that some maybe couldn’t make it, as always.

“so,” one of the extremely gorgeous women had cleared her throat, “are you going to introduce the lovely woman you’ve brought with you, karina?”

jimin smiles as her hand comes to lie on your arm, where your elbow is.

“this is y/n, she’s my colleague,” jimin says, a practised answer. you try to muster up a smile.

“i’m giselle, or aeri, nice to meet you, y/n,” the woman drawls, her tone full of mischief and she had that twinkle in her eyes that reminded you of jimin when she’s about to tickle you.

“how has ceo life been treating you? we haven’t heard from you much,” another woman asks. you notice how cat-like this woman looks. she had beady eyes that were laser-focused on jimin. there’s a chorus of agreement from the rest.

the ceo laughs, “it’s good. i’ve gotten to experience many things. what about the park group that you’ve visited, ryujin? are they still doing well?”

as the now named woman, ryujin, goes into a tirade about the park group, you take the opportunity to identify everyone. most of them were dressed to the nines, their hair all prim and proper, and not a speck of dust on their clothes. just from a quick scale, you could tell they were all extremely wealthy. you listen to ryujin speak while digging into the sirloin steak jimin had ordered for you.

“—and i actually met someone new recently, she should be arriving soon with her brother,” ryujin exclaims. the group chatters excitedly about her newest paramour, while jimin explains that ryujin had gone a few years without a relationship, hence the enthusiasm.

right as you nod, the door to the private room opens and two extremely familiar figures stride in and take their seats.

fuck. you think, unable to control the way your eyes widen. jimin shares the same feeling seemingly, with how she stiffens and a huff escapes her.

“this is hwang yeji and her brother hyunjin,” ryujin beams proudly, unaware of the tension surrounding the table.

“seo y/n?”

your eyes dart downwards, unwilling to face hyunjin. yeji only gasps, “what? oh my gosh, y/n!”

you grit your teeth as hyunjin laughs loudly, “what are you doing here?”

jimin’s hand slithers down to yours, encasing it in a tight but comforting grasp.

ryujin’s head goes back and forth and the table’s filled with surprised chatter and questions.

“how do you guys know each other?”

hyunjin beats you by answering, “she’s my girlfriend.”

what?

you wince a little at how jimin only grips you even more firmly.

“you are?” ryujin exclaims. yeji sends you a sympathetic look, but before she even says anything, aeri interrupts.

“are you a two-timer?” she accuses, eyes blazing with fury, “aren’t you dating jimin?”

your head snaps towards jimin.

“uhm—” she splutters out, “i— okay! it just slipped out and i told aeri to play pretend!”

“what?! you’re dating her?” hyunjin suddenly barks. you groan, wondering why you even got involved with these people. they were all insane!

“wait, so who are you actually dating?” ryujin finally asks. you sigh, “i’m dating jimin.”

a scoff escapes hyunjin.

“you’re actually with her? i can’t believe you jumped into bed with someone else right after we broke up! i knew you were a slut from the beginning.”

a chorus of gasps echo from the table. you should feel saddened that someone you cared for previously was throwing insults at you, but you don’t feel anything. yet, the same couldn’t be said for jimin, who rises up from her seat abruptly, and tosses her glass of champagne at hyunjin.

“don’t talk about her like that.”

“are you fucking serious?!”

“shut the fuck up,” jimin seethes, “and don’t let me hear you utter her name from that filthy mouth of yours ever again.”

hyunjin’s hair down to his tailored suit, drenched in expensive champagne that is probably worth more than your apartment. you watch as his face turns an angry red, and you can almost see the steam coming out from his ears. his mouth opens to retort but he can only gape furiously.

“you’re pathetic and i pity the people that have to be in your company. you forget yourself. don’t you dare come into my sight. my eyes aren’t adjusted to the filth that you are.”

hyunjin stands up from his chair but yeji pulls him back down harshly.

“i can’t believe my girlfriend saw anything but a deplorable man in you.”

you’re left jaw-dropped. jimin grits her teeth before tossing you a look, “c’mon y/n, let’s go.”

she pulls you out of your chair and as you leave, you turn back, sending an apologetic look to the others at the table. aeri only guffaws and ryujin yells, “you didn’t pay for the food!”

jimin’s hand doesn’t leave yours, and you’re a little shocked at how quickly and agile she moves even in heels. your heart’s beating a mile, both from surprise and the adrenaline coursing through your veins. when you reach the car, jimin slams the door shut and she deflates in her seat.

“oh my god,” she says.

“oh my god indeed,” you parrot, still in awe of jimin’s reaction. it was crazy, but you can’t lie, it was attractive having her stand up for you like that.

she turns to you, “i can’t believe i just did that.”

“yeah, me neither,” you laugh, “this is the second time you’ve called him pathetic.”

jimin pouts, so unlike the girl from before, “he just made me really mad! holy shit, aeri’s blowing up my phone.”

you’re reminded of something that aeri slipped out.

“jimin,” you place a hand on her arm as she checks the messages, “so you told aeri about us?”

the ceo turns to you, eyes glistening and her lips pursed out cutely, obviously as an attempt to cull your anger, “i really didn’t mean to! please believe me baby. she just asked me why i was so happy recently and then asked if i was seeing someone and you know i can’t lie to aeri… so i told her about you and—”

“hey, calm down,” you chuckle at the way jimin’s turning red from how quickly she rambled. she catches her breath as her chest heaves, “i’m sorry. i know i broke the rule.”

“it’s okay, jimin. i’m not mad,” you reassure.

jimin’s eyes perk up, “really?”

“yeah, it’s fine. i think it’s really sweet that you stood up for me today.”

“i’ll always stand up for you, you know that right? don’t you remember my promise of helping you whenever?” jimin says earnestly. you smile at her cuteness and sincerity.

you don’t know what this feeling is. the chasing thrill every time jimin’s hands are on yours. the gleamy look in her eyes. the curve of her crooked smile. but it feels similar to love.

“jimin-ah,” you mumble. it’s the most unromantic place and time ever— jimin’s car, parked next to a gloomy lamppost, right after she had just poured champagne on your ex.

but because it’s with jimin, it feels perfect.

you can’t believe you ever thought of rejecting the girl prior.

“yes?”

“i really really like you,” you tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. it’s a shame jimin’s dress couldn’t be properly admired today with all the ruckus. but that’s fine, you had plenty of opportunities to do so in the future.

“i really really like you too,” jimin whispers, as if it’s a secret.

you grin, “you looked really attractive just now. i think you’re god’s gift to earth.”

“mhm. you’re perfect too,” she sighs dreamily, “i really don’t mind giving you my everything.”

it sounds like a confession of love. maybe it’s jimin’s own way, but you both know it’s too early, even if the feeling rivals the purest form of affection and adoration.

“i liked it when you called me your girlfriend,” you admit. jimin beams, “so can i call you my girlfriend? can i be yours?”

you nod shyly at how jimin phrases the question. it’s not whether you’re hers, it’s whether she’s yours. and it’s a barely noticeable difference, but it only makes your heart pound more rapidly against your ribcage.

minjeong likes her job. it’s easygoing and the pay’s good. her colleagues are all really nice too. it’s an enjoyable job. she especially enjoys the company of her sunbae from high school. but recently, despite minjeong’s annoyance, her senior has been spending more and more time in the ceo’s office, and not at her desk. the usual conversations between them had gone so quickly and minjeong missed her sunbae’s presence.

she wonders if the ceo is holding you hostage. she’s seen the mountain of papers on your desk before, but she chalked it up to you just being an overachiever.

“minjeong,” her head lifts up, it’s mark lee and team manager kim gesturing at her to come over. their behaviour is strange, minjeong immediately notices, huddled in a corner of the lounge and whispering conspiratorially.

“what’s up? is something wrong?”

manager kim shakes her head and instead asks the damning question of, “do you think y/n and our boss are hooking up?”

what!

“uhm,” minjeong mumbles, “i don’t know?”

mark only nudges minjeong’s shoulder, “wait till y/n comes out of karina’s office and just look at her neck. she might have a few hickies.”

minjeong doesn’t think so, but she agrees to be their lookout and she waits patiently for you to come out. once the door swings open, minjeong catches a glance of karina adjusting her blazer and your hands pulling at the collar of your blouse.

huh. that’s strange.

she trods over to you, a faux smile on her face as she says, “are you in trouble again? you’re always in karina’s office!”

minjeong watches as your eyes widen and you clear your throat, “y-yeah… we were talking about a report… i made a few mistakes.”

her own eyes trail from your face to your poorly hidden neck, where a few bruises reside.

suddenly, everything clicks into place. the frazzled look you always had, the way karina would come out all messy— and the hickies!

minjeong can’t control the words that come out next.

“oh my god— you’re fucking the boss?!”

[tojisun]

!! minors dni; simon x cam girl f!reader; kinda sexting; UNEDITED and RAMBLING // divider by @/plutism <3

yall know those ‘ask me’ thingies in instagram and how theyre not anonymous? mmmprmn thinkin about simon finally giving in and sends cam girl! reader replies (he’s not tech savvy, forgive him 😔)

the questions are always fashioned the same way, he’s noticed. you only ever post those, anyway, when you’re in the middle of editing a new video but it’s taking too long so to keep your loyal viewers interested, you entertain them with little questions.

“which toy next?” you posted, showcasing four different sex toys splayed on your bed—a purple sucking vibrator, that bullet vibrator you’ve made multiple videos on, a rainbow-coloured dildo, and another one that squirts which is simon’s favourite if he’s being honest.

you always did cum the hardest when you’re being pumped full. simon wonders how much more intense would it be if you were properly fucked and filled; stuffed continuously, repeatedly, until your pussy’s all wet and sensitive. until it takes—

overtaken by his desire, he gives in and he types out his answer, “a real prick would look better in you.”

he didn’t expect you to see it, let alone for you to reply, but you did and simon reads it with a huff.

> ok troll

i’d volunteer myself, really. <

> yeah right. like i can trust you

what? you want proof that i can make you feel good? <

your reply doesn’t come in and he knows that you must want the whole interaction to end there, but simon won’t let you—doll, he’s finally managed to talk to the girl he’s been fantasizing about, did you really think he’d let the opportunity pass? you don’t even know how many times he’s fucked his fist to the videos of you bullying a dildo in your sopping cunt or the ones of you squirting while you ride that saddled vibrator that punches out guttural moans from the base of your throat.

jesus, just thinking about you mewling and creaming, your skin shimmering with your sweat, has simon chubbing up in his sweats.

so he gets bolder, changing his accounts—both this and the one he’s used to subscribe to your site—so that you know it’s him. he uploads pictures, exposing enough of himself that it feels real and authentic, and begins to tack on messages to every tips he gives.

it takes about two months until you finally caved.

> so… youre not a troll :(

why the sad face? did you want me to be? <

> course not!

> hby? what do YOU want

simon licks at his chapped lips, his legs unconsciously spreading already.

how about pics? show you what i was volunteering? <

> uh

> you wanna send a dick pic?

yeah. evens out the relationship, don’t it? after all, i just about know how your pussy looks and how it squirts. <

> youre soooo weird LOL

> but sure yea why not ig

simon snorts because try as you may, you don’t sound unbothered at all. after all, he knows you’ve been looking back at him—you followed him back in his socials, you even respond to all his tips and messages, and one time you even moaned his alias out loud during your stream. really, you’re not subtle with your own interest at all.

he pulls his sweats down and takes a pic of his half-chub. it’s a little blurry, and the angle captures more of the tuft of hair than the way his cock’s all flushed and filling-out, but simon knows what a decent dick picture looks like—they’ve all received numerous from mactavish—and this one looks good enough so he sends it to you and watches as his message goes from delivered to seen.

you don’t reply right away, nor after three minutes—he knows because the commercials ended and his game’s back on—and simon wonders if you’re back to ignoring him when—

> oh

> thats a good dick

he laughs, booming.

oh so you want it now? <

a speech bubble appears, then it disappears, then it appears again. this happens for a while and it’s somewhat entertaining to simon, mirth filling him up. then, you finally send your reply and this time simon couldn’t stop the barked out laughter that rumbles from his throat because you sent him your address.

simon’s out the door in minutes, his bike keys clutched in his fist.

[covenofagatha]

But you're my stepmom! (Part 9)

Word count: 2100

Warnings: mommy kink, rough sex, bondage, spanking, oral, overstimulation

Taglist: @stayevildarling@i-just-cannot@hazey-g@buttercandy16@320viada@evilangels-stuff@rmaximoff@morganismspam23@aboutcustardcreams@sasheemo@rigglemethat@walkethisway@mommywandas@r-3-becca@harknessshi@ihaveawifebutwerenotmarriedyet@polaris-likethestar@ahintofchaos

You don’t hear from Agatha after that for a day and a half. 

You can’t help but feel like you did something wrong. Was it making her pull over on the side of the road because your needy cunt was begging to be filled by her cock? Was it taking her hand with yours and holding it for the rest of the drive to get pizza? She didn’t seem to mind in either moment. 

Nothing else had happened Monday night once you two had come back to the house. She had given you a chaste kiss in the car, telling you to behave, and you had. The hug you’d given her before you left for the night was the picture of appropriateness. 

Everything had been fine, so why was she icing you out like this? 

It’s sixth period on Wednesday when you finally get a response from her. 

You’re sitting in Biology, textbook standing straight on your desk to hide your phone, staring at your messages with Agatha. 

You’ve sent probably close to thirty texts since Monday night, all of them going unanswered. You were confused at first, then angry, then sad, these emotions spilling into your various messages. 

I had a really nice time with you tonight ;) 

Hey, everything okay? 

Agatha what the fuck 

I’m sorry for whatever I did, please just talk to me. 

You’re wondering if you should send another one now when suddenly, the bubble with three dots pops up. 

She’s typing. 

For the first time in a day and a half, she’s not actively ignoring you. You hold your breath, almost afraid to keep watching. 

Sorry I haven’t replied. Come over after school? 

No explanation for the radio silence. You feel bitter and debate not answering just so she gets some kind of semblance of the hell you’ve been going through. 

But it’s Agatha and she has you under her spell. You can’t imagine not obeying.

Okay. You type back. 

You get a gut feeling that tells you something is wrong. 

Fuck. Did your dad find out about you two? The thought sends your heart racing and nausea climbs into your throat. 

You tell yourself that surely your dad would’ve said something to you if he had found out that you and his wife were fucking. This rational thought helps a little bit but you know that something isn’t right. So if it’s not that, then what is it?

You completely pour over every single interaction you’ve had with Agatha and this consumes you until the last bell of the day rings. You don’t even remember walking across the hall to seventh period but you clearly must have. 

On the drive to your dad’s house, a pit grows in your stomach with every turn that brings you closer to an inevitable confrontation. You absolutely hate conflict.  

You take a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. Your palms are sweaty and your heart feels like it’s pounding in your throat. You remind yourself to breathe. 

Agatha opens the door and moves to the side to let you in. “Hey,” she says quietly. 

And that sets you off. “‘Hey?’ That’s all you’re going to say? I haven’t heard from you since Monday! I texted you like a million times and you say ‘hey?’ What the actual fuck, Agatha?” 

Pain flashes in her eyes and then it’s gone. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Things were happening, I was busy.” 

You scoff and roll your eyes. “Were you also busy when you fucked me in your bed? In your car? When I went down on you on the couch and made you cum harder than my dad ever did?” You wish you hadn’t brought up all those memories because now you’re angry and turned on. 

At the mention of your dad, she grabs your wrist with a bruising grip and drags you upstairs. She brings you into her room and shoves you against the wall with unnecessary roughness, her lips catching yours in a harsh kiss. She bites your lip so hard that your mouth fills with blood and you hate how hot you find it when she licks it off her own lips. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, seeing the black glint in her eyes. Something is off. 

But she doesn’t answer, only slides her hand up to clasp your throat. Your breath hitches in spite of yourself and her eyes darken. “Do you trust me?” 

“Yes,” you say without thinking. You know you shouldn’t let her touch you until she explains herself, but you are too desperate to feel her hands on you again. Her face lights up in a wicked way and she leads you to the bed and shoves you down so your stomach is on the bed, ass in the air. She flips your skirt up and you shiver at the cold air on your bottom. 

You can almost hear her grin as she slides her fingers up and down your covered slit. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve become from her practically manhandling you. 

“Good,” she says and her hand cracks down on your ass. You gasp and lurch forward on the bed, the sting clearing all the thoughts in your head. 

“Fuck!” 

Her hand tangles in your hair and she pulls you up so your back is now flush against her front. “Count for me,” she whispers lowly in your ear and then lets you go so you fall back onto the bed. 

“One,” you say weakly. 

She spanks you again and your hands grapple with the bed sheets. 

“Two.” 

Again. 

“Three.” The pain has started bleeding into pleasure and you begin slowly rocking your hips against the bed to release some of the tension building between your legs. 

“Ah, ah,” she tuts, hands grabbing your waist, holding you still. Her fingers dig into the skin and you inhale sharply. “Don’t move.” 

“Mommy,” you beg, panting for more. You have to tense your muscles so you don’t start grinding again after she slaps you again. “Four.” 

“Almost done, sweetheart,” she coos, rubbing her hands on your ass cheeks, soothing the burn. Agatha literally has to peel your underwear off because of how wet you are. She then spreads your thighs even more and takes in the sight of you. “Oh, baby, you like this a lot, don’t you? You’re dripping onto the bed.”

You keen and nod your head pathetically. 

“Last one. You’re being such a good girl for mommy.” 

You arch your back in preparation, but this time, she smacks her hand straight on your pussy, fingers landing directly on your clit. You cum from just the bit of stimulation with a guttural moan and she watches in awe as your body contorts. 

“Five,” you say weakly, once you’ve come down from your wave of pleasure, just in case she wants you too. She laughs and flips you over, not giving you any time to recover before burying her head between your legs. Your back shoots off the bed and your hands immediately find purchase in her hair when her tongue gives you a filthy lick but she stops. 

“No touching,” she warns. 

“But, mommy!” you protest. 

She stands up and walks to her nightstand, your cunt cold against the air now that she’s not near you. 

Agatha pulls something out and walks back over to you. “Move to the top of the bed,” she instructs. You do without hesitation. She climbs on top of you, showing you the two lines of rope that were behind her back. You whimper involuntarily. “Are you okay with this?” 

“Yes,” you rasp, too quickly and she chuckles evilly. She leans down to give you a quick peck on the lips and then she makes quick work of tying you to the bed banisters. 

“Not too tight?” She checks and you move your wrists experimentally. You feel like with the right amount of force, you could free yourself if you needed to. 

“They’re good,” you say, voice clouded with lust. “Can you–” And then you stop, unsure if it’s okay to ask. 

“What do you want, baby girl?” Her fingers stroke your thighs reassuringly. 

“Canyoufuckmewithyourcock,” you spit out. She raises an eyebrow, silently prodding you to slow down. You try again, forcing yourself to pause after each word. “Can you fuck me with your cock?” 

She groans out loud. “Such a good girl, using your words like that. Since you took my spanking so well, I think I can arrange that.” She goes back to the same drawer where the restraints were and pulls out her harness and strap. She shimmies out of her pants and hastily gets ready for you. Your hips have started undulating ever so slightly in anticipation. 

She climbs back on the bed, rubs her strap-on against your opening to lube it up, and then slowly pushes in. You immediately feel better with the fullness, your anxiety at Agatha’s weird silence the last few days ebbing away. She gives you a second to adjust to the size and then starts fucking you like an unhinged woman. 

She snaps her hips with every fast thrust, pulling a strangled noise out of you each time. You’re both panting with the exertion and one of her hands finds your throat again. She squeezes and your cunt clenches around her cock, making it harder for her to move. 

“Mommy, fuck, yes,” you sob, the pleasure making you lightheaded. All of your senses are completely overridden by her. All you can feel is Agatha and you wish more than anything you could touch her. But being tied up and completely at her mercy is driving you absolutely crazy. “I’m so close.” 

You can feel her smirking against your skin where she’s leaving bite marks and then soothing the spots with her lips. She keeps fucking you just right. 

“Don’t cum yet,” she says, voice gruff. You whine and she grabs your chin with the hand that was around your throat and turns it roughly so you’re making eye contact with her. “Who do you belong to?” 

She picks up the intensity of her thrusts, if possible. You’re teetering on the edge. “You, mommy, only you!” You wail. 

“Good girl,” she purrs. “Cum for me.” As if you’d be able to stop yourself. 

Your second orgasm hits you much more intensely and you can’t stop chanting her name as she fucks you through it. Your mind goes blank for a second in the bliss. 

She pulls out slowly, leaving a gaping emptiness inside you. It doesn’t stay that way for long, though, because after she takes the strap and harness off and throws them across the room, Agatha moves down the bed and thrust her tongue into you. She sucks your clit into her mouth and you gasp at the stimulation. It’s too much as she eats you out with renewed fervor.  

“Mommy, fuck,” you mewl and strain your wrists against the ties. “It hurts.” 

She pauses for a moment to look up at you through hooded eyelashes. “You can give me one more, can’t you?” 

You nod meekly and she grins, diving back between your folds. It doesn’t take much for her to coax you back to the edge and a few minutes later, you’re crying out her name when you cum for the third time, her hot mouth knowing exactly what to do to make you scream. 

You wince as she gives you one last lick and then she climbs up to pull you into a deep kiss. Her tongue moves into your mouth with raw hunger and you go to put your hands around her before you remember that you’re tied up. Agatha notices that you’re struggling and smirks before untying you. You move your stiff arms around to get the blood flow back. 

“How was that?” Agatha murmurs. 

“Really good,” you answer honestly. Your brow furrows. “Are you okay? You seem a little off.” 

She doesn’t say anything, just lies down on her back on the bed. She motions at you and you cuddle against her body, head resting on her shoulder. Her arm comes around you and you draw soft patterns on her stomach, enjoying the feeling of her warm skin. 

You almost forget that you asked her anything and you’re about to drift off to sleep when she whispers, “Your father is having an affair.” 

[miirohs]

no body, no crime [o.p.s]

pairing: Mob Boss!Oscar Piastri x GN!Reader wc: 1.8k cw: reader shoots someone, poor hurt/comfort an: this one is dedicated to the local piastri lover em because that Danny Ric fic is never leaving the editing stage,,, had to change it up a bit tho bc the beginning was hampering the rest of it, but anyways I’m continuing the 2 am shitposting tradition 💀

The clock ticked softly in the background, a cold breeze filtering through the room as you curled further into the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to drown out the noise. The nightlights shone through the thin curtains, the light of the bright neon billboards cast onto the floor.

Oscar wasn’t home again, leaving you to your lonesome in his penthouse in London, something about an emergency meeting at eleven in the night.

You weren’t worried much about the call time, but you couldn’t help the pit that formed in your stomach as your head rested on his shoulder, still too tired to make out what he murmured in a low voice on the phone.

Whatever it was sounded important but he didn’t let you hear anything, herding you back to the bedroom with the promise that he’d be back sooner if not later. You held onto his hand, eyes shutting for good as the warmth of his hand slipped away once again.

With that, you fell into a fretful sleep, waking up at odd times for no explainable reason.

You felt dreadful as your eyes opened again, apartment eerily quiet, vision blurring as you read the clock.

2:45 A.M. It read.

You crawled to the end of the bed, letting your legs dangle off the bed as you reached out for your phone. Not a single notification on the screen and you sighed, opening up the messages app.

As you opened Oscars contact, something outside clicked faintly, making you jump. You slid off the bed, feet padding against the wooden flooring as you wandered into the hall.

You didn’t see any guards posted, even as you called out names you could barely remember hoarsely, getting no response back even as your voice bounced around the hall. It was slowly starting to freak you out, but you figured it was just the lack of sleep getting to you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this paranoid, and it wasn’t just for nothing.

The lights were off in the living room and kitchen, and you turned on the flashlight on your phone, your free hand pressed to the glass window. Your hands trembled slightly as you returned to tapping against the screen, typing up a message to send to Oscar.

where are you rn? heard something outside, can’t see guards anywhere.

The screen lit up, speech bubbles popping up for a couple moments before diapering entirely.

lmk when you’re on your way.

You sent the message, sliding onto a chair and hunching over the granite countertop. The phone rang only moments later, and you snapped out of your stupor, looking at the caller id.

[Osc].

You swiped, sliding off the chair and walking into the kitchen.

“Y/n? Is that you, baby?”

“Mmm, it is,” You mumbled sleepily, fingers running along the countertops as you reached to open the cabinet, "Where are you?"

"I'm on my way back," Oscar replied, tone relieved. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

“No, I thought i heard something,” You paused, anxiety thrumming under the surface of your skin as something clicked again, “And the guards aren’t here, they-”

“What do you mean not there?” You held the phone away, eyes widening as he cussed softly. The shock and fear in his voice sent a chill down your spine.

"I don't know," you stammered, glancing around the dark kitchen, "I called out for them, but no one answered. I thought it was just me being paranoid but…"

"Lock yourself in the bedroom. Now. I'm almost there, and if anyone breaks through, there's a gun in my nightchest. Don’t use it, just scare them if you have to." He instructed, voice panicked. You paused as he rambled further, eyes landing on a glass half full sitting on the countertop next to the sink.

“What the…”

Your head was slammed into the counter, blinding white pain licking across your temple as you dropped the phone.

The glass shattered as you flailed, crumpling onto the floor. Your world spun, something wet staining your hand as you clutched your head.

Oscar was now frantically shouting through the phone, and your vision blurred as you scanned the floor for the bright light. The sound of your phone cracking made you scramble back, trying to stand up as the world spun under your feet.

You could barely see the assailant in the darkness of the apartment, barely illuminated by the lights of the city.

They lunged for you, barely missing as you scrambled to the side, back hitting a wall. It was barely seconds before they came for you, pressing you up against the wall with their gun, cutting off your circulation.

The cold metal dug into your neck, and you clawed at their clothed arms, aimlessly flailing. Your kicking paid off, as the intruder gasped in pain as you landed a kick to the crotch, gasping for air as you slid down. Despite the throbbing pain, you dogged again when something flew at your head, crawling to the living room and pulling yourself up against the coffee table.

The intruder closed in once again, swearing loudly as they limped towards you. Grasping blindly, your fingers closed around a metal vase, swinging it in their direction. It connected with a resounding thud and you got up, shoving past them in the direction of your shared bedroom.

You’d stunned them, but you weren’t sure how long it’d last, locking the door behind you as you fell to your knees, crawling over to his side of the bed, slumped against the bed as you opened the drawer.

Your fingers closed around the cold metal of the gun Oscar had mentioned, hand tensing and untensing as you stared down the shiny silver. Suddenly, the door banged again, and you froze.

The rush of blood drowned out the taunts, positioning yourself in a far corner of the room, eyes straining in the dark as the doorknob jiggled.

That didn’t last wrong, the wood of the door splintering and cracking. "Come out, you-" the intruder's voice was cut off by another loud bang on the door, hand reaching down to the handle through a crack in the door.

There was nothing but the bed between you now, the door finally giving way, allowing them to stumble into a room with a malevolent look.

Panic surged through you and you raised the gun as threateningly as you could.

He grabbed your wrist, wrenching the gun from your grasp and throwing it to the side. You struggled, kicking and clawing your way out of his grip, diving for the gun. They tackled you once again, and you both tumbled to the ground.

In the struggle, your finger dug into the trigger, losing circulation as he pinned you down, gun shaking uncontrollably.

A shot rang out, followed by an intense ringing in your ears, the grip on your hands loosening. Something warm splattered against your face, blood pooling at your sides and you could only stare in horror.

There was nothing but a ringing in your ear, staring into the darkness as if expecting something else. The door burst open and Oscar rushed in, his eyes wild with fear. It was the first time you’d seen him so unkempt, eyes widening in shock as he connected the dots between the smoking gun in your hand and the body on the floor.

You couldn’t make out what he was saying, only as he pulled you closer to him, feeling the vibrations in his chest.

You couldn’t really make out what he was saying, slumping down against him as tears escaped your eyes.

You weren’t sure how much time passed till you could hear him again, blanking out for a couple of moments before you could remember again, sitting on the bed once again.

You could hear Oscar shouting in the other room, probably on the phone again. Something had gone terribly wrong for his composed self to be shattered.

He had Lando sitting in the room with you, monitoring you as your legs dangled off of the edge of the bed, staring down at hands crusted with blood.

Both of you didn’t say much, only nodding to any questions he asked, not even listening entirely.

“Is she doing okay?” You turned at the sound of Oscar's voice, opening then closing your mouth as Lando shrugged noncommittally, murmuring something about how he hadn’t heard a peep in the hour he’d been there.

You phased out again, only coming back to your senses as he gripped your hand, kneeling in front of you.

"Hey," Oscar said softly, high contrast to the way he had been yelling earlier. "Can you look at me baby?"

You blinked, slowly focusing on his face. The tears were coming back, and you swallowed them down again, digging your nails into his hands instead.

He didn’t complain, running a soothing thumb over your knuckles. "You don’t have to if you don’t want to," He continued, "You're safe now. Everything's going to be okay."

Even when you didn’t answer and stared blankly, he continued, listing things aimlessly to catch your attention.

“We’re going to increase security detail for you by the way. I won’t be leaving you on your own for a while…” He paused in his explanation, tilting his head at you. “Please talk to me, baby, I’m worried.”

You swallowed hard, feelings like a mess of strings as you opened your mouth. "I don't know what happened," You shuddered, voice barely above a whisper, "I just... I had to… I just killed someone. Oh god, I'm a killer."

Oscar's expression softened further in contrast to the steely tone he used as he gripped your hand tighter. “No, you didn’t. If anyone questions you, I was the one who did it. Not you, me. Don’t blame yourself for what happens to scum like that.”

“But then- then you’ll get in trouble,” You whispered, haunted by the thought, “they’ll arrest you.”

He smirked, reaching up to brush the hair out of your face as if he was contemplating something.

“Osc baby, what-“

“Whoever sent them,” He spoke with slight disgust, although you could tell that wasn’t at all the full gist of what he was feeling, “Started this trouble first. They can’t arrest me if there’s no body to be found. No body, no crime baby.”

You could only stare at him, heart aching slightly as he pulled your hands to him, allowing you to run your fingers through his messed up hair.

“You’re…” You didn’t finish the sentence, allowing him to stand up and hover over you.

“It’s going to be alright,” he murmured, his voice soothing as he wiped your unshed tears. “You’re strong, we all know that.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You sniffled, hands looping around his own as he cradled your face.

“You’ll never have to find out,” he replied, leaning down to kiss your forehead, arms holding you down almost possessively, “Never when I’m here.”

[paarksunghoon]

hello omg i love love LOVE deep honey, which is rare cus i usually do not touch fluff at all but smth abt the way u wrote got to me. i was wondering that in case u wanted an idea, u could write abt sunghoon rushing over to take care of his sick girlfriend? :3 just a thought or any headcannons u have on that would do fine but if u wanna turn it into a drabble or fic that's good too, especially if it's a continuation of deep honey

anyways, that is all from me, have a good day!!!

thank you so much :’) for all of my nsfw drabbles and content, I really enjoy writing the softer kind of stories. switched up the request just a little. consider this a token of my appreciation for your kindness. xx

ps this is what I’m imaging him wearing

***

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that nothing good could ever happen when you text someone past 2AM.

Both existential and physical dread consume you the second you open your texts and see a plethora of unread messages due to your current state of being. You’ve been bedridden for what feels like years but it’s only been a few of days. It’s technically Sunday morning and technically you should be fast asleep, especially since you’d taken medication to help you rest throughout the night. But seems like your body has other plans for you.

Tossing and turning won’t do either. Your head feels much better than it has for the past two days. You’d taken two days off or classes because of intense migraines paired with what seems like onset sickness due to it being flue season. Guilt over missing classes and groveling to your professors (even if they extended grace and told you to rest up) ate you alive, only ebbing away when you closed your eyes and slept.

Your roommate has been away because of a family event and what was once a promising weekend full of relaxation and the apartment to yourself is now a time for you to wallow in your misery. You’ve gone through countless tissues and have slept more in the past few days than in your entire life. It feels like your head might as well be cut off with how many problems your eyes, nose, and throat are giving you.

To pass the time, social media distracts you for a few minutes and you catch glimpses of what your friends have been up to. Partying. Studying. Eating at the cafeteria. All of these are mundane events you took for granted because you’d love to be anywhere but rotting away in your apartment. You’d rather studying for a midterm over feeling like you can’t move without losing your breath.

You take this time to catch up on texts as well. There are so many what remain unread by you and guilt crawls up your spine as you begin to reply to everything.

hi riki!! sorry I haven’t replied yet. I’ve been sick all weekend :/ I wish I could’ve gone to jake’s game with u bc it looked so fun ☹️

jungwon ur your cat is so cute omg…please send more vids. also sorry for replying late im sick lol

sunoo I swear to god if you watch another episode without me, I’m gonna beat your ass whenever I recover

yes, mom. I’m resting as much as I can! sorry I haven’t responded sooner. I still feel sick

heeseung do u think sunghoon would be weirded out if i text him right now. pls advise 😁

Heeseung immediately reads the message and the text bubble appears straight away. He’s one of your closest friends in university who always happens to be friends with Park Sunghoon, the guy you’ve been talking to for the past month and a half.

heeseung: Nah not weird. He’d probably like hearing from you

heeseung: He was asking about you earlier today and said you haven’t been talking to him as much

you: looking at my phone made me nauseous :/

heeseung: You should probably tell him that bc he’s been staring at his phone all day

you: soooo it wouldn’t be weird if I texted him out of the blue rn?? usually we don’t like…start conversations so late

heeseung: You’re overthinking. Just text him and if he doesn’t reply then he’s asleep and will text you in the morning

you: I’m scared of fucking it up

heeseung: There’s nothing to fuck up. If he gets mad that you took care of yourself (he won’t be) then he’s the one who fucked up

you: ugh when did u become the voice of reason

heeseung: :)

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard after you’ve opened Sunghoon’s text. You can imagine his slight pout when you think about how he’d react when he realizes you haven’t texted him back, which makes you feel even more guilty than you already are.

You’re not really sure how you started talking to him, let alone befriended Heeseung to the point where he started inviting you to hang out with him and his group of friends. Heeseung had originally been a study partner for a shared class back when the two of you were sophomores. It’s been a couple of years since then and now most of your conversations consist of TikTok jokes and Heeseung having to deal with you pining over one of his friends.

Sunghoon is every bit of cool you can imagine. He was so quiet when you first met him, residing in his oversized sweater since it was approaching the beginning of autumn. Heeseung invited you to a local bar on a Friday night after midterms and said your first drink would be on him if you made it before last call, knowing very well you were likely getting ready to slip underneath your blankets and call it a night.

He was right as always. You showed up wearing jeans and an old shirt with a jacket that was too big for your body. You’d made somewhat of an effort to look presentable since you’d be hanging out with his friends near campus and would rather not look like you’d gotten rolled over by a locomotive. It was there you met Sunghoon for the first time. He was so quiet that you barely heard him talk until an hour into hanging out with him, but that’s when you learned that he was someone you needed to get to know before he’d show you his loud, boisterous personality.

The more you hung out with him, the more you started to picture yourself with Sunghoon, away from the group you started to call your friends too. You’d only see him when Heeseung invited you out or if you bumped into someone else while Sunghoon was in tow with them. Neither of you seemed to cross paths otherwise and even then, Sunghoon was a bit too timid to approach you first and start a conversation.

Part of you wondered if you were ever too bold when you’d get drunk with him and your friends. You were loud, full of laughter and affection that none of your friends were surprised every time you shouted compliments across the tables and declared your love for the little group you considered to be your family away from home. Heeseung had gotten used to it pretty quickly and so did the others, albeit it took a while for their ears to stop glowing red every time you’d pull them into a drunken hug.

Maybe you sent a little too far with Sunghoon, who immediately tensed when your arms wrapped around his shoulders the first time you let your inhibitions down fully. A few beers and shots in, and Heeseung was anticipating your drunken rant about how much you love the little life the five of you had created and hoped that it would continue even after you all graduate.

Sunghoon always looked a bit intimidating with his dark, thick eyebrows and shielded his wandering eyes. He always looked like he knew what he wanted and his grace always made you think twice about what you’d say to him. Although, you knew this was the beginning of an onset crush that wouldn’t remain hidden for long, let alone when you weren’t sober.

So you’d thrown your arms around Sunghoon’s shoulder and told him how happy you were that Heeseung introduced the two of you. While you try not to think about that moment too much, you recall telling Sunghoon that he was slowly starting to become one of your favorite people because of how funny he is when people least expect it. You liked that he was so kind to his friends and that he was so confident in himself, and that you wished you could be a little more like him.

You also said he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. It was a sobering moment because he looked at you like you’d grown two heads and his shoulders felt like they might’ve been pushing you off of his body.

Stumbling with consistent apologies, none of your mutual friends seemed to notice what was happening behind them. You can picture the look on his face when your mind crosses to this moment, how he’d looked at you with bewilderment with his mouth ajar. Sunghoon didn’t say anything and you took that cue to leave him alone and head to the bar, where you hoped distance would make this night seem less tragic than it was.

When morning came around, you were the only person in your shared group chat who declined getting a late morning breakfast due to your embarrassment. Even during the next weekend, when Jake opened up his apartment for a casual hang out, you were the only person who didn’t show up, citing work and study stresses keeping you away from your friends.

Heeseung knew those were merely excuses.

“Cut the shit, Y/N. Are you okay? Did one of the guys do anything to make you uncomfortable?” The worst laced in his tone made you feel guilty for having him think the worse of people he knew before he met you.

“No, nothing like that. I think I’m the one who fucked up and made them uncomfortable.”

“Well clearly not since Jake invited you to his place. What’s going on? Do you want me to come over?”

The last thing you expected from Heeseung was to see him double over in laugher when you explained your predicament, clutching onto your bed like he’d fall to the ground if he didn’t. You’re sure that fit of laugher gave him a new set of abs.

“Sunghoon wasn’t weirded out. He texted me and asked if you were okay.” Heeseung pulled his phone out of his pocket to show you, leaving you in a cloud of confusion. “He probably likes you. Sunghoon’s a natural with girls even if he doesn’t realize they’re flirting with him. I think he likes you too because he’s acting really awkward because he doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

That night left you with more question than answers. You considered texting Sunghoon and asking if the two of you could talk, but you didn’t want to make him even more uncomfortable and tell him what Heeseung told you in fear of putting your friend in an awkward position. So you let the discomfort settle and braved seeing him the next time one of your friends invited you out.

Which, to no one’s surprise, was the weekend after Jake’s get together. Seoul’s autumn carnival was in its third weekend by the time the five of you were able to find adequate time to ride every rollercoaster and eat until your stomachs caved in. You loved the fair and were the first person to buy an admission ticket. Poor Jay, who wasn’t the biggest fan of big rides in the first place, tagged along with Jake every time he insisted on it. You tried your best to keep some distance between yourself and Sunghoon, even if Heeseung said you were being ridiculous. You’d chosen to stick by him until Sunghoon volunteered to help you pick up the food trays when you lost a game of rock-paper-scissors.

“I’m sorry that I acted weird that night,” he said, cutting the silence as the two of you waited for your order. He didn’t have to explain. You knew what he was talking about. “Heeseung said you felt bad for making me feel uncomfortable but I need you to know you didn’t make me feel that way.”

That was the longest sentence he’d ever said to you, let alone it being the first time he initiated a conversation with you. He watched as you stood with your eyes wide and mouth parted like you wanted to say something but didn’t know how to say it.

“I think you just caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting you to say nice things about me. I didn’t realize we were that close because you’d been affectionate with everyone but me up until that night.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I was, uh, flustered.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He averted your gaze and looked at his shoes momentarily before he looked back at you. “I liked what you said. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

You laughed at the awkwardness dissipating. “I thought I crossed a line, or something. You just sat there and I thought I fucked up by touching you.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t. I…I liked it a lot.” You tried to hide a grin by keeping your bubbling excitement under wraps failed miserably. Sunghoon smiled too, offering to carry most of the trays back to the table where your friends were too hungry to talk for the next ten minutes.

The memory brings you back to the present where your thumbs hover the keyboard. You start to read back the conversation between the two of you and feel those butterflies erupt in your stomach for the umpteenth time. The two of you have talked about anything and everything. Nothing is off limits. So why is texting him to let him know you’ve been sick for the past few days so difficult for you?

you: hi

you: sorry I haven’t texted a lot in the past few days. I’ve been having migraines and now I’ve caught a cold ):

you: im sorry for texting so late too

He texts immediately.

sunghoon: You don’t have to be sorry. Are you feeling better now?

sunghoon: Actually don’t answer that

Your phone rings.

“Hey,” you say with your phone propped against your ear. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me. I’m the only who’s calling you when you’re sick, so I’m technically the one bothering you.” His laugh on the other line makes you smile a little too hard. “I was really worried. None of the guys heard from you so I figured you needed some space.”

“Unfortunately. I had to skip a few classes because it hurt to stand up. I’m pretty sure I’ve slept more this past week than I have in the last month.”

“I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

“I feel bad that I haven’t been able to talk to you.”

As if Sunghoon could sense you pouting, he clicks his tongue and reassures you. “It’s fine, Y/N. I’d probably do the same thing. I can’t imagine how much pain you’ve been in.”

“I would honestly rather study and take a million midterms than go through this again. I feel like someone just took their shoe off of my head.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re doing better. Can I bring you anything? Medicine, maybe?”

You cough a little. “No, but thank you. My friend dropped off a lot of NyQuil and other stuff to help me. It’s working…kind of. Still feel like shit, though.”

“…Can I come over? To help you with your sickness, of course. I can bring you soup.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You frantically rise from your bed amidst his words and realize there are tissues on the ground and dirty clothes strewn everywhere because of your lack of energy. Your living room must be a mess, too, and this would also be the first time Sunghoon would see you without any makeup on.

“I want to. But I mean, only if you’re up for it. I don’t want to stress you out since you’re sick. I just want to help make you feel better. That…and I miss you.”

Sunghoon’s never been so direct before. Even though the two of you have been talking for a while, neither of you have been so forward about it. Conversations are always subtly flirty to the point where the effervescent feeling simmers just underneath the surface. The two of you have hung out without the rest of your friends and have been alone before, but neither one of you has gone so far as you be so bold about the other.

“I miss you too,” you whisper into the phone.

“Give me thirty minutes. I’ll come with soup.”

He hangs up and with a newfound sense of urgency, you make your bed and throw away any stray trash. You put your dirty laundry in the hamper, which is piled high and untouched. It’ll be a problem for when you’re not sick.

The living room isn’t too bad. You straighten furniture and throw away empty takeout containers and wash a few utensils. The tasks don’t feel as draining as they did a few days ago and you’re starting to regain a little bit of your breath.

True to his word, Sunghoon arrives thirty minutes after he said he would. You open the door and look at him. He’s wearing blue hoodie and sweatpants with specs that make him look significantly more attractive than you’re used to.

“Hi,” Sunghoon says with a gentle smile. “I missed you.”

You bite your lip and blurt out your first thought. “You look really good in those glasses.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “Thank you. Can I come in?”

“Right, right.” You step aside and he follows you into your apartment. He takes his shoes off and places them neatly by the shoe rack.

“I might need to reheat this. I got it from that place near my apartment. You know, the one with the yellow banner?”

“I love that place.”

He smiles at you. “I know. Can I heat up some soup for you?”

When you nod, Sunghoon moves to the correct cabinet and pulls out everything he needs. It astounds you because he’s only ever been to your apartment twice before, both times with your other friends in tow. It dawns on you that it’s the first time the two of you are alone in your space. You’re touched that he remembers where your things are.

He beckons you to sit on the counter in front of the steaming bowl and the aroma of spices makes your mouth water. You haven’t been able to eat consistently in the past few days, surviving on bland foods like bread and crackers to sustain your health because anything else made you feel sicker than you were. The steam feels good against your skin and you dig in right away.

Sunghoon pulls your hair back when it gets close to the rim and holds it for you while you lap up the soup. It seems as though you’re hungrier than you thought because you sit there wordlessly, shoveling liquid into your mouth while Sunghoon watches.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I must look like a zoo animal.”

“You’re sick, Y/N. You have nothing to apologize for. The first meal you can stomach is the best one.” It’s like he gets you. Sunghoon continues to hold your hair back until you’re finished. He washes the bowl and spoon, and puts it back where they belong.

Sunghoon turns around and looks at you under the ambient lighting you and your roommate put up in lieu of the overhead lights. It feels like he’s inspecting you and you try really hard not to think about the fact that you don’t feel presentable in this moment.

“Your apartment feels very you,” Sunghoon says. “I like all of the green furniture and the art on the wall.”

“My roommate picked the decor out but I’m starting to understand why she loves art so much.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, looking at you. “Would you want to go to an art museum with me?”

“I’d really like that.”

Sunghoon pulls you by the hand to your couch and you try your best not to feel flustered with his touch. He sits you down on the cushion and immediately you feel like you need to be hyper vigilant because he’s looking around the apartment and you’re wondering if he can see the messes you see.

“Do you have a blanket? We could watch some TV. Or I could go. I don’t know.”

“Don’t go.” You say it too quickly but Sunghoon’s shoulders relax. “The blankets are beside the couch.”

He drapes it over you, leaving himself to fend for the cold. Although you’re sure he’s pretty warm, you open up the blanket and invite him to share it with you.

This is new territory. You two have just been talking. But Sunghoon isn’t deterred. He slots himself next to you and doesn’t shy away when he feels your arm pressed against him.

“Sorry for the mess. And for, well…” He watches you gesture to your face, which is undoubtedly red with dark circles underneath your eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything. I still like you.”

You aren’t used to him being so upfront like this. He watches you with easy eyes, the kind of feeling that makes you believe what he says. Sunghoon is pretty reserved when it comes to these types of things and you often find yourself being the one to push him towards his bolder side. But even though you feel flustered by his words and underneath his stare, you like this newer side of him.

“I’m such a mess.”

Sunghoon watches you push your forehead into his shoulder in an attempt to hide yourself from him. He smiles at your antics and loves the feeling of your body on his. He’s been hesitant to do things like hold your hand or kiss your cheek in fear or overstepping a boundary. He doesn’t know what came over him when he held your hair back from falling into the hot soup. He knows very well that he could’ve asked where you kept your hair ties, but helping you when he knows you need it felt like the right thing to do.

Now, he wonders if you’re growing bolder with him too. You let your forehead rest against his hoodie as you take deep breaths. He hears you sniffle a few times and nearly coos at the mere thought of you suffering from your sickness. When you pull yourself away from him, the tip of your nose is slightly runny and your eyes look a bit more red than usual.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

He bites his lip. “You could look worse.” You try not to let your cheeks rise in heat.

“You’re just being nice.”

Sunghoon laughs and shakes his head. He could never lie about how he feels towards you. “Nope. You still look really cute.” He watches the gears work inside your head and locates the TV remote when you don’t say anything. “What do you want to watch?”

“I dunno.”

“C’mon, you must’ve been watching TV while you were cooped up here.”

You shake your head. “Migraine, remember? Felt like my eyes were gonna burst.”

This time, he coos out loud. Sunghoon puts on a show you’ve mentioned enjoying in the past and hopes he chose correctly. You seem to be mellowing out and paying attention to the screen in front of you until you start breathing heavily. It’s not until he hears you try to silence a small coughing fit that he shoots up from his seat and pours you a glass of water.

“Here.” Sunghoon doesn’t let you hold the glass. Instead, he beckons your mouth open by placing the rim between your lips and lets you swallow the water, tilting it up until you’ve consumed all of it. He wipes the excess water from the corners of your mouth with his thumb and looks down at you with concern. “Do you have any tea? I can make you some. Hopefully that’ll soothe your throat.”

“Stupid medicine isn’t working,” you grumble. “I might as well perish.”

“Tea, baby,” Sunghoon says, the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. You almost don’t notice it. “Where do you keep your tea and honey?”

“Cabinet beside the fridge.”

Sunghoon comes back a few minutes later with piping hot chamomile tea with honey. You don’t know how he does it, anticipating your every need and putting just enough honey where it doesn’t feel like you’re stuffing your throat with the sweet nectar. You sip on it slowly as he situates himself back underneath the blanket and keeps his eyes on the television while you try to calm your erratic heartbeat.

Eventually, the episode finished and it’s almost four in the morning when you start to get sleepy. Sunghoon hears you yawning beside him and does his best not to grin like a lovesick idiot when you push your body against his in an attempt to get comfortable. You’re holding the empty cup loosely in your hands when your eyes start to droop and as much as Sunghoon would love to stay like this, he knows it’ll be better for you to sleep in your own bed with your back against the mattress.

“Baby,” Sunghoon whispers. He grabs the mug from your hands and sets it on the coffee table. “I think you should sleep in your bed. You’ll feel a lot better when you wake up.”

“But you’re so warm.”

He bites back a smile. “Thank you, but you’re gonna wake up with back pain and I know you’ll be mad that you didn’t sleep with pillows.”

He’s right and you know it but that doesn’t stop you from letting a whine slip past. Sunghoon doesn’t complain when you lean on him for support (or rather, you push your full weight onto him because you cannot be bothered with physical tasks at this late hour). Instead, he holds your waist with his arm and guides you into your bedroom from his memory of coming here a couple times before now.

Despite this, he’s never been inside your room. You’ve always kept the door closed but as he opens it, Sunghoon completely melts at how your bedroom is so utterly you. The dark green comforter hugs your queen-sized bed and a mountain of pillows cover the top near the bed frame. Your desk is an organized mess of notebooks, pens, and highlighters you carry with you during study sessions. Photographs in pretty frames decorate your walls along with posters of your favorite music and films.

He spots a picture of the two of you from that day at the amusement park when Heeseung insisted on taking a photo since the lighting was “perfect.” Sunghoon suspected that wasn’t the case but let him take it anyhow. He always considered that to be his first official memory with you. Knowing you might feel the same makes Sunghoon’s heart flutter.

“Let’s get you into bed, yeah?”

His soft touches make you fall much deeper into your tiredness. The mattress below you feels too good to be true as Sunghoon opens the blankets for you to crawl underneath. He watches you carefully as you scoot to one side and make yourself comfortable, wondering if you’re enjoying the side of him that wants to pamper you.

When you’re all tucked in with the blankets underneath your chin, Sunghoon can’t help but lean down and brush a few stray hair strands from your face. He caresses your cheek and holds himself back despite your lips being right in front of him. Instead, he settles for rubbing your soft cheek with his thumb before leaving.

Except, you reach out and grab onto his wrist. “Where are you going?”

His looks back at you in the dim light. “Home, baby. I’ll let you sleep.”

The pout you’re wearing is tearing him limb from limb. “I don’t want you to go home.”

“No?”

You shake your head. “Please…I haven’t seen you at all this week.” Sunghoon hears the strain in your voice and he isn’t sure if you’re awake enough to know what you’re saying. “I-I just want you here with me.”

How could he say no to that?

Sunghoon sits on the empty side of the bed and lets you guide your hand in his bigger one. He watches as you shake your head and he’s about to ask what you mean when you open the blanket.

He feels momentarily guilty when he pulls his hand away from you because he hears you whine again, but he slips off his hoodie to avoid overheating. He’s left in his sweatpants and a loose shirt when sliding into your bed right next to you.

You waste no time and attach yourself to Sunghoon, pushing your body until you’re resting on his chest. He does his best not to let his heartbeat give him away. This is the most he’s ever touched you. At best, he’d brush his hand against yours and waited for the right time to hold it. Today feels like he’s thrown caution into the wind.

Sunghoon puts his glasses on your night table and pulls you close to him, encircling his arms until he finds a comfortable position. Your warm breaths litter his skin and he feels like he could run laps with how happy he is in this moment. You look so cute with your body limp against his. He loves that you’re not hesitant around him anymore and hopes you know just how much he wants you close to him.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Sunghoon says in the dark, unsure if you’re still awake or not.

“What’s your secret?”

Your eyes remain closed, eyelashes covering your beautiful eyes and your cheeks are squished into a pout against his chest. He looks down at you like you’re precious cargo and a rare gem he never wants to let go of.

“I really want to kiss you.”

You don’t say anything. Instead, Sunghoon feels you move your head until you press a kiss against his chest, allowing your lips to linger for a few seconds before reverting back to your original position.

“Kiss me tomorrow.”

Sunghoon hears you snoring soon after.

“Yeah,” he whispers to himself. “I can do that.”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[peachdues]

Work has been kicking my ass the last couple of weeks, so I haven’t really had time to write. This is all I’ve got for y’all right now 🤍

Lovers of Compass!Sanemi and Reader discussing books, rejoice. They’re still a couple of fucking nerds (no matter how horny)

It’s almost one in the morning when your phone buzzes.

A message; one from the only person you text, who also happens to be your favorite. On your screen is a picture of the front cover of the book you’d given Sanemi before he left the day before; beneath it, the chat bubble signals he’s sending a follow up.

You caught up yet? Sanemi’s text reads.

You toss your own book to the side, straightening up in bed. Though no one is around to see, a smile unfurls across your lips and your thumbs hurry across your phone’s keyboard.

How far are you?

Sanemi’s reply is instant. Halfway. Can’t finish tonight but I’ve got a few things I need to discuss right the fuck now.

You glance at the time. It’s nearing one-thirty, and your alarm is set for six. Dragging yourself out of bed after less than five hours of sleep is a kind of stupidity you know better than to indulge.

You hit the call button anyway.

Sanemi picks up on the second ring. “I’ve got five minutes,” he warns, voice low, like he’s wary of being overheard. “So if I hang up all of a sudden, it’s ‘cuz of work —“

“Hi to you too,” you tease, settling back against your pillows.

A pause. “Hey there, beautiful,” you can hear his smile even through the phone. “You okay?”

“Better, now that I hear your voice,” and you can’t even be bothered to be embarrassed by the cheesiness of the admission. Texting him is one thing; hearing him, actually hearing that wonderfully gravelly voice of his soothes a tension in your limbs you hadn’t realized you’d been carrying.

He’s okay. He’s unharmed — safe, even. For now, that has to be enough.

Sanemi’s laugh comes through the phone as a staticky exhale of breath. “Normally, I’d ask what you’re wearing, but I’m dead fuckin’ serious — if they don’t win this war —“

“Which battle did you get to?” You sit up, wracking your memory for the approximate place Sanemi has reached in his book. “Did the cadre reunite?”

“No, half of ‘em are still across the fucking continent.”

“Ohhhh, yeah. Okay. I know where you are.” You tug at a loose thread on your comforter. “I can’t say anything. You’ll just have to keep reading.”

“God dammit,” and you imagine he’s rolling his eyes, maybe even glaring down at the book in distaste. “Shit’s got me stressed the fuck out. I don’t know how she’s gonna wrap this up —“

You giggle as he launches into a rant over loose plot ends. Squaring the mental image of your boyfriend — the one currently ranting about the various loose plot ends to still be tied up in his current read — with the one you know must be sitting in some alley or warehouse, waiting to do things he’ll never speak of, feels impossible at times. But here, for this small moment, Sanemi isn’t a Hashira. He’s just a boy, spouting off theories and guesses as to his book’s ending with an almost childlike enthusiasm. Here, there are no orders to leave, no bruised knuckles or bloodstained hands he has to scrub clean in your bathroom sink.

It’s just you and him; your Sanemi. Your wonderful, gentle, sweet Sanemi.

“Ah shit,” he cuts his impassioned tirade off with sigh. There’s a rustling on the other end of the line, but it’s too muffled to be distinguishable. “‘M gonna have to go —“

Just like that, the moment ends and the smile you’d been wearing slides from your face.“Oh.” And you hate how small your voice sounds. “That’s okay — I’m glad I got to talk to you for a sec.”

The rustling stops. “Me too,” Sanemi says softly. “Fuck, I miss you.”

This is the part you hate most; the part when he has to stop being yours and go be theirs, no matter how much you know he doesn’t want to.

Your moments with him are pennies to the hours the Corps gets to demand. As long as they keep their claws in him, this will always be how your moments with him end: in abrupt, hushed voices, Sanemi’s shoulders sagging with a guilt he shouldn’t have to feel.

You grimace. This forced distance between you is bad enough, and you don’t want him to feel worse than he likely already does. You knew what you signed up for by telling him you loved him. You can’t be mad for getting exactly what you’d known to expect. And besides, your ire is reserved for the Corps and the Corps alone. Sanemi doesn’t deserve it. You can’t leave him on your sour note.

He’ll be yours again soon enough, even if only temporarily. That has to be enough, for now. Better to give him something to look forward to, rather than reminding him — and yourself — of what you’re both currently without.

“If you still wanted to know — I’m wearing your shirt. Only your shirt.” You smirk. “A thong, too. The lacy green one.”

A favorite of Sanemi’s, as he’d mentioned a handful of times. One that always set his eyes wide, made his tongue flick out to wet his lips.

Your distraction works. A strangled groan crackles through the phone. “You’re killin’ me, woman.”

[angelsuecult]

uncensored | s. crosby

warnings: MINORS DNI! a whole lot of cursing and smut. some roughness, so please read at your own discretion.

summary: sidney’s feeling in the mood to incorporate something beyond what you might expect. a forgotten phone catches all the nastiest details after a nice night out with friends.

wordcount: 6.2k

a/n: plotless smut with a twist, literally nothing more. also anon i saw ur message and i’ve been having connectivity problems all day which is why i’ve only just got around to uploading but thank u for ur kind words!! i don’t even know how i got this idea but.. also i felt bad that it wasn’t uploaded when i said it would be so i made it extra long! hopefully i can get that request one up today too, if not it will absolutely be up tomorrow. i hope y’all enjoy it! feel free to fill my inbox with your thoughts or requests! i love u little sluts🫶

The evening started innocently enough, the restaurant hummed with life, dim lighting casting a warm glow on the surroundings. Laughter and conversation filled the air as glasses clinked together, the smell of freshly cooked dishes floated through the air from the open kitchen. You were seated at a long table with a group of friends, a mix of familiar faces. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits.

Sid sat beside you, his thigh pressing lightly against yours, a silent connection that had been building since you first arrived. Every time his arm brushed yours as he reached for his drink, or when his fingers rested casually on your knee under the table, you could feel the tension simmering between you both. It wasn’t just the wine making your head feel light, its was the proximity, the heat of his body next to yours, and the way his touch lingered a second too long.

Across the table, your friends were in the middle of a heated discussion about the best vacation spots. You and Sidney were only half-listening, caught up in your own bubble as you sipped on your wine. His gaze flicked toward you, his lips quirking into a half-smile as if he knew exactly what was on your mind. The brush of his hand against your thigh under the table became deliberate, his fingers inching upward slightly.

At some points the conversation shifted toward the upcoming season, with Sidney’s friends asking him questions about training. You could see the way his eyes darkened slightly, how his attention wasn’t entirely on what they were saying but on the way your breathing changed each time his fingers inched higher and higher.

”Yeah, training has been good. Hard but good,” he replied absently, his hand now fully resting on your thigh, his fingers tracing circles that made it hard for you to sit still.

You shifted in your seat, your body betraying you as you fought the urge to react, not wanting anyone at the table to notice the dangerous game you and Sidney were playing. But he noticed. He always noticed. His smile widening slightly, his eyes locking on yours for a moment silently telling you he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.

You learned in close, your voice low so only he could hear. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Crosby,” you whispered, shooting him a glance as you tried to focus on the conversation again.

His response was immediate, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered back, “You love it.”

And he wasn’t wrong. You did love it—the thrill of it, the anticipation, the way his touch made you forget everyone else around you. The tension had been building all evening, and now, with the wine loosening your inhibition and the feel of Sidney’s hand on your thighs, you couldn't wait for the night to take the turn you both wanted.

Across the table, someone suggested heading to a local bar, and for a moment, the attention shifted from the two of you. “What do you think?” Sidney asked, leaning close again. “Should we continue the night or head home?”

You glanced around the table, noting how everyone seemed eager for the night to continue. But you weren’t thinking about them. All you could think about was Sid and the promise in his touch, the way his eyes held yours in that quiet, burning intensity that made your pulse race.

”I think,” you began, your voice low as you reached for his drink, taking a sip before handing it back to him, “we should get out of here.”

His eyes darkened at your words, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Yeah?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you met his gaze, the tension crackling like electricity. He didn’t need to be told again. He flagged down the waiter, signaling for the check, and within minutes, you were outside the restaurant waiting for your car.

The cool night air was a welcome relief as you stood on the sidewalk, Sid’s arm casually draped around your shoulder. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours, the buzz of alcohol still humming in your veins. “I think we had one too many,” you whispered, your lips brushing the fabric of his shirt as you glanced up at him with a lazy grin.

Sidney chuckled, his finger trailing absentmindedly up and down your arm. “Maybe,” he agreed, his voice low and relaxed. He leaned down and pressed. A kiss to the top of your head, the lingering scent of his cologne mixing with the alcohol and the remnants of your evening. There was something about him when he drank, how it loosened his edges and made him playful—more willing to let go.

The car pulled up to the curve, and he opened the door for you, his hand resting on the small of your back as you slid into the backseat. Once inside, the tension that had been building all night felt even more intense in the confined space. The driver asked for your destination, and Sidney gave him the address. As the car started moving, the city lights flashing by in a blur, Sid’s hand slid higher up you lead, his thumb brushing the hem of your dress, dangerously close to where you wanted him most. Your breath caught, and you shot him a warning glance, but it was half-hearted at best. The anticipation becoming unbearable, the slow build from dinner now reaching a point where you weren’t sure you could wait much longer,

“You’re killing me,” you whispered, leaning into him as his hand continued its tortuous path along your thigh.

His grin was pure mischief as he leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “Just getting started babe.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body responding instantly to the promise behind them. You pressed your thighs together, trying to keep some control, but Sidney wasn’t having it. His hand slipped between your legs, fingers brushing over the thin fabric of your panties, and you bit back a moan, your hand shooting out to grip his arm.

He chuckled softly, his lips grazing your neck as he whispered, “You’ve been teasing me all night. I think it’s time for some payback, eh?”

You were about to respond when the car hit a red light, and the driver turned around, asking you if you wanted the music to be louder. It was a surprising interruption, pulling you momentarily out of the haze Sidney had you in.

”No, we’re good,” Sid says, his voice steady, though you could feel like tension could beneath the surface. His hand stayed where it was, pressing lightly against you, a silent reminder of what was to come.

The light turned green, and the car started moving again, the city slipping away as you headed toward home. His hand stayed on you, a constant maddening pressure that kept you on the edge of losing all control.

You turned your head slightly, your lips brushed against his ear as you whispered, “I can’t wait until we get home.”

His hand tightened on your thigh, his eyes darkening as he shot you a sidelong glance. “Neither can I.”

When you finally pulled up to the house, Sidney paid the driver quickly, practically pulling you out of the car and up to the door. Once inside, the quiet calm of the house wrapped around you guys like a blanket. The tension from the night was still there, simmering beneath the surface.

The door closed behind you with a soft click, you kicked your shoes off, tossing your coat on a chair, while Sidney lingered by the door, watching you. And you could feel his gaze on your back, heavy and intense, and it made your pulse quicken. You grabbed a glass of water, taking a sip before holding one out to him. “Want some?”

Sid shook his head, his lips twitching into a smile. “Not really thirsty.” He set the glass down, without taking a sip, his steps slow and deliberate as he crossed the room toward you, “I’m more interested in something else right now.”

The silence in the house was immediately drowned out by the heavy sound of breathing. Sidney had barely let you cross the threshold before he was on you—his hands gripping at your hips with a force that sent sparks through your body.There was an urgency between you, a raw need simmering just beneath the surface, set free by the alcohol still buzzing through your veins.

He pressed you against the wall, his lips crashing into yours in a kiss that was as much teeth as it was tongue, hungry, and desperate. You moaned into his mouth, your hands already threading through his hair, tugging him closer as he ground his hips into you. The hard length of him pressed against your stomach, a delicious reminder of what was to come.

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he murmured against your lips,his voice low and ragged, sending shivers down your spine. His hands slid below your waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your dress, teasing the soft skin of your thighs.

You gasped, your breath catching as his fingers brushed against your soaked panties, the pressure just enough to make you ache for more. “I need you so bad.”

He groaned into your mouth, his hand still between your legs, fingers pushing your panties to the side as he teased your entrance with the tip of his finger. The slickness made him moan, the sound loan and guttural. “You’re so wet already, baby,” he grunted, his voice dripping with satisfaction as his fingers slid inside you, two at once, stretching you just right.

Your head fell back against the wall as he began to pump his finger in and out, the rhythm slow and torturous. The sound of your wetness filled the air between you, that soft, obscene squelch that had you clenching around his fingers, wanting more.

”Sid—fuck, baby,” you moaned, your hips moving against his hand, chasing that friction as your body heated under his touch. “I need you.”

He chuckled softly, his breath hot against your ear as his fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made you cry out. “Not yet.”

Your breath came out in shaky gasps as his thumb pressed against your clit, circling in time with the thrusts of his fingers. You could feel the orgasm building inside you, hot and coiled tight, but Sidney wasn’t letting you go that easily. Every time you got close, he slowed, pulling you back from the edge, leaving you panting and trembling in his arms.

“God, I love watching you like this,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire as he pulled his hand away, leaving you on the verge of begging for more. “So desperate for me. So needy, hm?”

Without another word,he grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the couch. He was unbuttoning his shirt as you went, his chain catching the light as it dangled from his neck. You were too far gone to care about where he was dropping his clothes, your eyes focused solely on the way his abs flexed with each movement, how the thin line of his chain glistened with the dim light, practically taunting you.

By the time he pulled you into his lap, both of you had shed your clothes, the fabric discarded carelessly on the floor. He sat back, his legs spread wide as he looked at you, eyes dark with lust, his lips still swollen and red from your kiss, his dick, hard and ready, pressed against your stomach, the tip already glistening with precum as you straddled him.

Your hands moved on their own, sliding down your body as you ground against him, the friction of his cock against your wetness sending shivers of pleasure through you. You moaned softly, your fingers trailing over your breasts, fondling them as Sidney watched you through half-lidded eyes.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Sidney groaned, his hands moving to your hips as he guided you over him, his length sliding between your folds, teasing you entrance. “I want to feel you, baby. I want to fuck you so hard, you wont be able to walk tomorrow.”

”Wait,” he whispered, his voice rough and teasing. “You know what we should do?”

You paused, your breathing heavy as you looked down at him, your heart racing. “What?” You whispered breathlessly.

His grin widened, his hand sliding up your side, his thumb brushing against the curve of your breast. He leaned in, his lips barely grazing your ear, “We should record this. I want to remember this.”

His words sent a shockwave of heat straight through your core, your breath catching as the idea took hold. The thought of being recorded, of watching yourself ride him, was so dirty, so intoxicating, you couldn't help but bite your lip in excitement. Your heart pounded, the pulse between your legs growing even stronger as you leaned back to look at him.

”You really want to record this?” You asked, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and arousal. The idea was thrilling, dangerous, and it made your entire body buzz with need.

His eyes locked on yours, his expression serious but filled with desire. “Yeah,” he whispered, his hands sliding down to your hips again. “I want to watch it over and over again. I want to see how good you look on top of me.”

Your body responded to his words before you could even think. “Fuck yes,” you reached for his phone on the coffee table, your fingers trembling. Sidney was already trailing his lips down your neck, his breath sending goosebumps over your skin. He had that hungry look in his eyes again—the kind that told you he wasn’t going to make this easy. You fumbled with the phone, trying to unlock it as his mouth moved lower, kissing the sensitive spot just above your collarbone. His hands never left your hips, kneading and gripping as you stayed sat on top, trying to balance the need to move against him with the task of setting up the camera.

”Sid,” you breathed, your voice shaky as you finally got the camera app open. But the moment the phone was in your hand, he was pulling you closer, his lips pressing wet open-mouthed kisses up the curve of your neck and jaw. The way he groaned against your skin made it almost impossible to focus. “Fuck,” you whispered, your head tilting back as his teeth grazed your skin. Teasing you as he began to slowly rock your hips again.

”C’mon, baby,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick and low. His lips found yours again, and you melted into the kiss, losing yourself in the heat of his mouth and the way his tongue slid against yours. You managed to pull away just enough to set the phone down on the arm of the sofa, trying to angle it to capture you both. But Sidney was relentless. His hands roamed over your body, tugging you back down to him, your legs spreading wider over his lap as he continued to kiss you, his lips trailing along your jaw, down your neck, and back to your mouth again. The phone slipped from your grasp and teetered for a moment before falling back onto the cushion.

”Sid, baby, I’m trying to set this up,” you gasped, your breath ragged as you reached for the phone again, but his hands were quick, pulling you back to him with a teasing smirk.

“Oh yeah?” He breathed against your lips. “I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

Just as you positioned the phone, he caught your lips again, his kiss more urgent now, demanding. You groaned into his mouth, almost dropping the phone as you lost yourself in the feeling of him. “Sidney,” you gasped, pulling back just enough to place the phone back in position. You quickly hit record, your breathing coming in quick, shallow-bursts as you looked down at him, eyes heavy-lidded with lust.

”There,” you whispered, barely able to focus. “It’s recording.”

His eyes flashed with darkness as his hands gripped your waist, picking up right where you left off. “Fucking finally,” he growled, his voice dripping with need. “You ready for this, baby? I’m going to ruin you.”

You moaned at his words, your nails digging into his shoulder as you lifted your hips, positioning him at your entrance. Your eyes locked on his as the head of his cock nudged inside, stretching you open as you slowly sank down, taking him inch by inch. He leaned forward slightly, his lips barely bushing against the exposed skin of your chest, your chest heaving in anticipation. “I could stare at you all night.”

The sensation was overwhelming, the stretch burning in the best way as Sidney filled you completely. You felt every ridge, every vain of his dick as he buried himself inside you, the delicious fullness making you gasp. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned his hands gripping your hips so hard you were sure there would be bruises tomorrow. “You feel so fucking good.” Your walls clenched tightly around him, unwilling to let go.

You could only whimper in response, your head falling forward as you began to move, rolling your hips slowly, savoring the feel of him deep inside you. The rhythm was slow at first, your bodies moving together in a hypnotic dance, the tension building with each thrust.

Sid groaned beneath you, his hands tightening on your hips, as he thrust up to meet your movements, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you that made your breath catch. His chain, cool against your heated skin, swayed with every movement, brushing against your chest as you leaned in to kiss him.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered,his voice low and rough as he buried his face in your neck, his breath ragged against your skin. The vibration of his voice sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and you couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips, your hands fisting in his hair as you rocked against him.

Your body responded to every movement, every shift of his hips, the slow drag of his length as he pulled out, and the deep, satisfying thrust as he slid back in. Each time he filled you, the fullness made you gasp, your body trembling as the pressure built inside you. You could feel his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath you, his breath coming in short gasps as he watched you, the intensity of his gaze giving you goosebumps.

”Look at you,” he mumbled, his voice thick with desire as he shifted, focusing on the way your body moved over him. “So beautiful. I could watch you all night.” His words sent a rush of heat through you, and you couldn't help the way your body responded, clenching tighter as you rode him, slow and steady, savoring every second.

The sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room—the wet, squelch of your pussy, the systemic slap of skin against skin as Sidney thrust up into you, and the soft breathless moans that escaped your lips as you both neared the edge of release. The knowledge that there was a camera filming every moment, capturing the raw heat between you for him to watch later, was intoxicating.

Just as your body began to tremble on the edge, Sid sensed it—he always knew when you were close. But he wasn’t ready to let you go over the edge just yet. He could feel the way your body was tightening around him, so close to release, but instead of giving in, he closed his movements. His movements became relaxed, deep, his pace deliberately drawn out as he shifted.

You whine in protest, your hands scrambling to hold onto him, but he chuckled softly, lips brushing against your ear, “Not yet, baby.”

Without pulling out of you, Sidney shifted, gently guiding you backward,lowering you onto the couch, with a firm but tender grip. His hands cradled your back as you melted into the cushions, your legs wrapped around him, keeping him buried inside. The change in position was seamless, so smooth that it left your breath catching in your throat. And even though he hadn’t left your body for a second, the feeling of being underneath him now, with his full weight hovering over you, reignited the fire that had been simmering between your hips.

”You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed, his eyes roaming over your body, dark and hungry as he took you in.

He paused for a moment, not moving, just watching you. He leaned on one forearm beside your head, using the other hand to gently caress the curve of your waist, his touch feather-light as he traced the contours of your body. His eyes followed his fingers, lingering on every part of you—the swell of your breasts, rising and falling with each shaky breath; the smooth expanse of your stomach, slick with a sheen of sweat; the way your thighs pressed against his hips, trembling slightly with anticipation.

You could feel him inside you, still hard and thick, but he wasn’t moving, not yet. He was teasing you with the stillness, making you crave it even more. The tension was unbearable, the ache between your legs almost too much to handle, and you squirm underneath him, desperate for him to move, to give you more.

”Sid-“ you whimpered, your voice shaky as you gazed up at him. Your hand slid up his chest, your fingers brushing over the hard ridges of his abs before settling on his shoulders, gripping him tightly as you tried to pull him closer. But he didn’t budge. He stayed still, his gaze locked on yours as he dipped his head down, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss. His chain brushed against your skin as he kissed you, cool metal contrasting with the heat of his body, the soft clink of it against your collarbone was hypnotizing.

When he finally pulled back, his lips hovered just inches from yours, his breath warm on your skin, “I’m gonna take my time with you.” His words sent a shiver down your spine, the promise of what was left to come making your core clench around him involuntarily. Sidney felt it, and a soft groan escaped his lips, his control slipping for just a moment as his hips instinctively bucked forward. He caught himself though, steadying his breath, and with a smirk, he began to move again—slowly this time, each thrust deliberate and controlled.

Your heart pounded in your chest, every nerve in your body on fire as he held you there, immobile beneath him, your legs trembling as he spread them wide. Out of the corner of his eye, Sid caught sight of his phone, still propped on the arm of the sofa, the camera lens aimed directly at the two of you. He had almost forgotten about it in the heat of the moment, but now, the thought sent a wave of heat through him. His breathing hitched slightly, as the realization sank in—every moment of this really was being recorded.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he looked down at you, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear. “You remember the camera?” He murmured, his voice low. “It’s still recording us.”

Your eyes flickered open, a soft gasp escaping your lips as the realization hit you, and you looked toward the phone with a breathless smile. “Oh my god,” you whispered, biting your lip as your body trembled beneath him. “That’s so fucking hot.”

Sid chuckled, his hand trailing up your thigh as he reached for the phone. Pushing deeper, he shifted his weight onto one arm and grabbed the phone from its perch, his abs flexing as he moved. He repositioned it on the coffee table, angling it so that it captured the entire scene from the the side—his body hovering above yours, your legs spread around his waist, every inch of your connection visible.

His hands slid under your thighs, lifting them higher, adjusting the angle so he could thrust deeper, his movements now quicker and more intense. The change in position made you gasp, the sensation of him filling you completely almost overwhelming as he hit that perfect spot inside you again.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his lips grazing your neck as he buried his face in your hair, his lips brushing your ear. “That feel good?”

”So good,” you moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, your lips meeting in a messy, desperate kiss. The taste of him—of whiskey and need—was a thrill, and you could feel your body trembling with the intensity of it all, your muscles tightening as the pleasure built again.

Sidney’s hips rocked against yours, the rhythm deliberate, his cock dragging along every nerve inside you with a precision that made your toes curl. The wet sounds of him moving inside you filled the air, the slap of his thighs against yours punctuated by the soft moans escaping both of you.

”Look at me,” he breathed, pulling back slightly so he could see your face. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your swollen lower lip as he stared down at you with an intensity that made your heart race. “I want to see your face when you finish.”

Your breath caught at his words, your body shaking as you looked up at him, your fingers gripping his biceps, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held himself above you. His arms were strong, veins bulging under the skin, the sight of him—sweat-slicked, muscles rippling with every movement, his eyes dark with lust—had you swinging on the edge of release.

You could feel him getting closer. It was the way his thrust had lost its steadiness, becoming more erratic, how his breaths were starting to come out heavier, rougher against your skin. His hips, though still driving deep and slow, were grinding harder into you, as if he were trying to get even deeper, to claim more of you. The muscles in his arms tensed, his grip on your waist tightening as his finger dug into the soft skin of your hips, holding you down as he fucked you deeper into the cushions.

Sidney groaned, the sound low and guttural, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he pumped into you with an unrelenting force. His chest pressed against yours, the heat of his skin mixing with yours, slick with sweat. Every thrust made your breasts bounce against him, your nipples brushing against his firm chest, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. The friction between you was almost overwhelming, the sensation of his hard body pinning you down, his abs tensing and flexing against you with every movement, making you feel every ridge of muscle against your sensitive skin.

“Fuck, baby,” his voice tight, strained with effort of holding back. His mouth was at your ear, breath hot as his teeth grazed your earlobe. “You’re taking me so well—so tight. I’m not gonna last.”

Your body responded instinctively to his words, your hips rising to meet his thrusts, grinding against him in desperate need. You could feel the way his cock twitched inside you, how his movements were becoming more urgent, each thrust harder and more deliberate. Every motion made your legs tremble, your back arching off the couch as your nails dragged down his back, leaving pink trails in their wake.

His chain swung between you, catching the light with every thrust, the metal brushing against your skin and occasionally grazing your lips. The cool sensation of it against your heated skin makes you shiver, your breath barely leaving your throat as it dragged across your bottom lip, slipping into your mouth for the briefest moment before sliding away again.

Without warning, one of his hands slid up from your hip, rough fingers skimming your side until they wrapped gently, around your throat. His thumb brushed over the side of your neck, feeling the quickened pulse beneath your skin, gasping, your body tightening involuntarily around him as the pressure of his hand sent shockwaves of pleasure straight to your core,

”So fucking pretty like this,” he murmured, his eyes dark as they locked onto yours. “You’re mine.” His other hand grabbed at your ass, squeezing hard as he slammed into you, the sound of skin meeting skin was even louder. Your body shook with every impact. You were overwhelmed, consumed by the feel of him—his cock stretching you open, the weight of his body pressing you down, the rough grip of his hands grounding you to the moment.

His breath grew more erratic, chest heaving as he thrust into you, his cock twitching inside you with every stroke. His grip on your ass tightening, pulling you against him with an urgency that told you he was close. His mouth hovered just above yours, the cool weight of his chain slipping between your lips, your tongue brushing against it as you tried to catch your breath. The way his eyes locked on yours, how his gaze flicked between the chain and your flushed face, made your pulse race, your body aching for release.

”I’m so close, baby,” he groaned, his voice thick with need as his hips bucked hard against yours.

You were too far gone to respond properly, lost in the waves of pleasure that kept building with each thrust. All you could do was curse, your nails digging into his back, your thighs trembling against his hips. You tried to speak, but it came out as breathless gasp.

”Fuck—I’m gonna—I’m gonna fucking come.” You panted, your voice shaky, barely able to get the words out between gasps for air. Your entire body was tensing, the pressure inside you folding tight with every deep stroke, his name falling from your lips in broken whispers.

”Sid—fuck—I’m gonna come. I’m—fuck!”

His eyes darkened, his jaw clenching as he thrust harder, deeper, pushing you closer to the edge. “Come for me, baby,” he rasped, his voice strained as he held himself back, waiting for you to unravel beneath him. “Come for me—let me feel it.”

The intensity of his words, the way his chain clinked against your teeth, and the sheer force of his thrusts pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, crashing through you with a force that had you crying out, your body trembling beneath him, Your muscles clenched around his cock, milking him with each pulse, your legs locked around his waist as you rode out every last wave of pleasure.

His eyes stayed locked on yours, watching every second as you came undone beneath him. His chain slipped between your lips again, the cool metal catching between your lips as your body shook with each spasm. The sight of it—the way you took it in your mouth, how your lips parted around it as you moaned his name—had him losing his mind. His grip on your throat tightened enough to make your heart pound even harder.

He couldn’t hold back any longer, The sight of you, the feel of you squeezing him so tightly as you came, was too much. His hips stuttered, his chest pressing flush against yours, his abs flexed, sweat slicking his skin as he dove into you one last time, his cock buried deep inside as he let go.

“Shit—I’m gonna come,” he spat, his voice thick and desperate. His hips jerked hard against yours, and he slammed himself into you, his forehead pressed against yours as he came, hot and deep inside you. His cock pulsed, spilling a thick load into you as his body trembled, the pleasure rolling through him in heavy waves.

His eyes never left yours, his gaze locked onto you as he watched you ride out your orgasm, his release spilling further into you with every rough thrust. The weight of him above you, the way his body shuddered with each spam, only heightened your pleasure, making you tremble beneath him as you milked him dry.

He groaned, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his grip on your throat loosening as he collapsed against you, his body spent but still connected to you in every way, his cock still throbbing inside you. His face nuzzled against your neck, placing soft kisses on your damp skin savoring the moment as your hands played with the damp hair at the nape of his neck.

Then it hit him—the camera.

“Jesus,” he muttered, the low sound of his voice pulling you out of your daze. His chest rumbled against yours, his hand sliding down to grip your hip as he slowly shifted his weight, sitting back just enough to reach for the phone perched on the coffee table.

His other hand still gripped your thigh, holding you open, connected, as he grabbed the phone with a smirk. “Gotta finish this off,” he whispered, the phone now in his hand as he leaned back, keeping the camera trained on where you were still joined. Your body trembled under him, still sensitive, still buzzing from the orgasm that had wrecked you just moments ago. You felt the slow grab of his cock as he began to pull out, teasing you with the movement, making you gasp softly. The sensation gives you goosebumps, the emptiness leaving you aching even though you were completely spent.

Sid focused the camera on his cock, still half-hard as he slowly pulled it free, glistening from both your releases. The tip of him was coated in a mixture of his cum and your wetness, his hand gently wrapping around his base as he drew out the moment, making sure the camera captured every inch of him sliding out of you.

A soft moan escaped your lips as his cock slipped free, the wet sound echoing between your bodies. As soon as he was out, you felt it—the slow, messy seep of both of your releases spilling from you. It was slow at first, a thick trail of white slipping from your swollen pussy, mixing with your slick as it dripped down your thighs, pooling on the couch beneath you.

Sidney kept the camera trained there, watching as more of his cum leaked from you, his voice a low murmur of appreciation as he recorded the sight. “Fuck, look at that.” His thumb brushing against the slick skin of your inner thigh, “Look how messy you are—you look so good like this.”

The heat in his voice, that possessive edge, made you pulse again, even though you were completely spent. He zoomed in slightly, focusing on the slow drip of his release slipping out of you, spreading over your thighs. His free hand moved down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze, as if to emphasize the ownership behind his words. You reached down, fingers brushing lightly against your entrance, feeling the warmth of both of your releases still coating your skin.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he groaned, shifting the camera again to catch your face, your lips still parted, your eyes heavy-lidded with exhaustion and pleasure. “Look at you. So fucking beautiful, so full of me.”

Sidney shifted closer again, his hand slipping up to your stomach as he leaned over, the weight of him pressing against you in a familiar, grounding way. The camera lingered for a few more seconds, capturing every last second of that raw, intimate aftermath before he set it aside.

His body collapsed onto yours, both of you still slick with sweat and desire, but this time the moment felt softer, more tender. His lips brushed against your forehead, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart calming as he pressed against you.

“That was fucking insane,” he whispered, his voice a low rasp, filled with both exhaustion and satisfaction. His fingers threaded through your hair as his lips ghosted over your skin, the weight of the moment sinking in between you both.

You gave a soft laugh, your body relaxing beneath him, the feel of his warmth settling into you. “We really made a mess, huh?” you teased, your voice barely more than a breath.

Sidney chuckled, his chest rumbling against yours. “Yeah,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours, “but we made a fucking masterpiece. Guess we’ll have to watch this again later,” he suggests, planting a kiss on your cheek. “Maybe even make a sequel.”

[vctrvn-ls]

Treat Me Better

note: shld I make this a series typa thing? also first time posting not from the app lmao, hopefully this’ll post properly. warnings: swearing, angry sharky (not typical)

wordcount: 1.1k

part 2

part 3

———————————————————————

You slammed the door of your apartment with a low and annoyed groan.

You were wet, freezing, hungry and tired.

With shaking hands and a quivering lip you untied your shoelaces, you didn’t know if you were cold or on the verge of a breakdown.

You dragged your feet from the hallway to the living room couch, not even bothering to take off your soaking wet jeans and socks. 

Another groan left your lips, this time it was more genuine and sad. You curled up on the couch, hugging your knees and screwing your eyes shut, remembering how terribly your day went.

After taking your first set of mock exams this morning, you realized how much you don’t know. And despite all your efforts and sleepless nights of studying, you felt like giving up hope to achieve those high grades you so desired. 

You were just about to rethink how you got caught in a storm with your broken bag and torn umbrella, when you felt your phone buzz. 

You took it out of your back pocket. It was cold and damp, with drops of water smeared on the screen. How was it even working?

You looked at your messages seeing “Sharks ❤️” on the screen. Usually you’d smile, but today it was if you had no energy to do so. Before you could reply, your phone lit up and began vibrating. He was calling you.

“Fuck,” you whispered. After a quick practice of your fake happy voice you answered the call.

“Heeeyy,” you tried to sound as bubbly as you could.

“Hey baby, howd the mocks go?”

You stayed silent.

“I saw you haven’t been online since this morning. You alright?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah I was just,” your eyes darted around as you tried to make up an excuse.

“Just what?”  

“Just…needed to get something done and didn’t have the chance to pick my phone up.” 

“You have any plans for the weekends?”

“Studying. My second set of mocks is on Tuesday.”

“Oh, right.” He sounded a little disappointed “Well I hope everything’s alright. If you feel like it, maybe we can go out tomorrow?”

You let out a sigh. It was more of a breathe than a sigh really, but Sharky misunderstood the tone of your breath and took it in as annoyed.

“Or- Well we don’t have to. I was just making a suggestion…haven’t seen you in ages.” 

You frowned without replying.

After a few seconds of silence you finally said “Could you…come over?” You even sat up, shocked by your spontaneous suggestion.

“…Really?” 

You hummed.

“I-I mean yeah of course I’d love to.”

“It’s late.” You said as if reminding him.

“So? It’s not like I wake up early or I have somewhere to be.”

“Then I’m waiting.” You laid back down.

Half an hour went by and you didn’t even notice. You were so burnt out that you couldn’t even find the motivation to look at least a little presentable for your boyfriend’s arrival. Realization only hit once there was a timid knock on the door.

You cursed under your breathe and got up, walking over to the door, unlocking it.

“You okay, baby?” Was the first thing Sharky said.

“Wha-Do I not look okay?” You got a little irritated by his question.

“N-no I was just asking.”

There was a second of silence. You had a mad look on your face and Sharky could tell something was up.

“Can I maybe come in?” 

You stepped aside with a quiet ‘sorry’.

“You want anything?” You asked.

“Just you.” He smirked as he hung his coat. You rolled your eyes.

“Jeez what’s wrong?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Nothings wrong!” You exclaimed, a little louder than you intended to.

He stared with disbelief. He didn’t say a word.

“What?” You leaned forward, feeling stupid under his gaze, which made you even more mad.

“Wha- Okay, is there anything you want to tell me?” He avoided the question that previously got a surprising reaction out of you.

“No?” You replied bitterly.

“Should I go? I don’t really feel welcomed right now.”

“Maybe you should.” You sighed. You didn’t mean that. You really didn’t.

Sharky’s face dropped. He knew he asked the question, but he didn’t think that he would hear what he heard.

“Are you for real?” He raised his eyebrows.

You shrugged.

He scoffed and laughed, looking up and shaking his head “Unbelievable.”

You observed, leaning on the wall with your shoulder and your arms crossed.

“Un-fucking-believeable.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You didn’t know if you could handle a fight right now.

“You are so,” he paused, trying to think of the right words “So… annoying.”

“What?” 

“Look, I know you probably had a hard day yeah? And whatever the fuck happened, happened. But if you ask me to come over you should at least tell me! Why am I always here to support you, yet I still get treated like shit most of the time.”

“Sharky I-”

“No you know what,” he raised his hands up “You have a problem. Like some serious issues.”

Your heart dropped. Never in your life have you ever heard Sharky talk to you or to anyone like this. He was pissed. Something you didn’t know Sharky was capable of.

“How the fuck do you expect me to help you through a hard time when you don’t tell me shit?” He whispered.

“I-”

“And when do I finally get the feeling of fulfillment that the relationship I’m in isn’t one-sided? Why are you so abnormally cold all the time? I spend so much time, so much effort to make you feel good, to make you feel loved. Will I ever get that? Will I ever experience that feeling from you? From fucking anyone?”

You opened your mouth to say something, but tears filled your eyes and your throat tightened.

“Oh and you’re gonna cry?” He laughed “YOU!?”

You sniffed and quickly wiped your eyes.

“Great. Amazing. Just great. You know what? I will leave. And I’ll leave leave cause I’m tired. Tired of wasting my energy on you.”

“I didn’t know I was such a burden,” you said in a raspy voice “Didn’t know it took that much effort to love me.”

“Yeah. It fucking does.” He grabbed his coat.

“Fuck you.” The sentence came out more like a question, rather than a confident statement.

“Yeah.” He looked at you with the saddest eyes. The most heart wrenching eyes. Eyes that spoke more than his mean words.

“Sharky, I’m sorry.” You said as if your instincts kicked in and your brain suddenly started working.

“Save it. I dont care how sorry you are. Bye. Have a nice life. And good luck tryna find someone who’ll deal with your bullshit the way I did.” He turned around and slammed the door.

You bit your thumb, sliding down against the wall to the floor.

You weren’t crying or sobbing.

In fact you didn’t make a single noise.

You just stayed there.

———————————————————————

[coffeedepressionsoup]

Somebody Does Love | MYG - He Thinks Nobody Knows

Pairing - Yoongi x F!reader

Summary - "What is grief, if not love persevering?" Two people are in love but that is not enough because sometimes loving requires courage.

This is the one where his friends rallied around him to own up to his feelings. Part 6 of Somebody Does Love.

Series Masterlist

Genre - fluff, strangers to lovers, eventual smut and angst

Word count - 2.7k+

Warnings - mentions of drinking, swearing

Ratings - 13+

Taglist: @majiiisstuff @starlighttaek8 @yoongrace @proudnoona @7ndipity

A/N - Apologies yet again! This took forever to finish. Even on days that I thought I would finish it, either my body would betray me and doze off or my head refused to cooperate. Hope you have fun though. Idk what it is about flustered Yoongi that fills my heart up so much! Not proofed.

----------------------------------------------------------

“One more time guys! Come on,” Jungkook urged, half panting, hands on his hips. He looked at Taehyung who was beside him a second ago but now was sprawled on the floor of the dance studio. This new choreography was tiring. 

“Let’s break for 10,” Justin, the choreographer, said. The dancers agreed and dispersed to different sides and corners of the room. Namjoon, Jin and a couple of other dancers left to get some juice from the cafeteria vending machine.

Yoongi plopped down on the floor at one end of the room, dragged his bag towards him and fished out his phone. He smiled down at the message that he saw first and honestly, was anticipating all day long. He typed out a quick reply, with the same smile plastered on his face.

Jimin, standing in front of him, opening a bottle of water, asked, “Is Y/N coming along then?” Yoongi nodded his head, almost involuntarily and then stopped typing and snapped his head up with a frown replacing the smile, almost comically, making the younger one laugh.

“Stop peeping into my phone!” he said.

“Nobody is peeping shit.”

“How’d you know then?”

“You had that stupid Y/N smile on.”

“What Y/N smile?”

Hoseok groaned from a little further away and said, “You guys should really just fuck already,” earning an eye-roll from the older man. He shook his head at the hint of denial and added, “You have that stupid lovestruck little grin on your face whenever you’re around her or even at the mention of her!” 

Yoongi’s cheeks and ears turned bashful red as he went back to his phone and muttered, resting his back against the wall, “I am not lovestruck.”

Jimin let out a chuckle at that and looked towards Hoseok who rolled his eyes this time but with a knowing smile.

Yoongi still felt flustered, an unexplainable nervousness wracking his head. He brought the phone closer to his face as he saw the animated typing bubble pop up on the chat. At Aera’s party, he had gathered enough courage to ask for her number, directly. It was not smooth. Or very subtle. But it did the job. That is enough for now.

“I just realised that we don’t have each other’s contacts yet,” Yoongi muttered, feeling his cheeks and ears heat up.

“You’re right,” Y/N nodded, leaning against the chair he was sitting on. She pulled her phone out, “Tell me your number, and I’ll leave a text.”

They were about 7 or 8 pegs in, each. Yoongi managed to start and sustain a few short conversations with Y/N so far when she was not engaged with her other friends.

Even when she was not talking with him, Yoongi’s attention was stuck on her. Watching her laugh, frown, dance with the others. He tried to not stare but he was not sure he succeeded much. He also learnt of how Aera first met Y/N on a holiday in Brussels. He tried and absorb as much information as he could. Audio. Visual. Anecdotal. 

Ever so often he realised that there is so much about Y/N that he does not know yet. A part of him was resolute to know more. At par with the others, whom she has had core memories and inside jokes with. Another part was hesitant. What if his interest is unwelcome? What if he is being selfish and inconsiderate?

Soon after, Dojoon and Jaehyeong proposed that the group (present at the "party") take a weekend trip to Sokcho. There were also a couple of days of public holidays, and Hajoon owned a beach house to comfortably house them all.

From the surprised look on the drummer’s face, it was clear that his bandmates did not consult him on the matter. But Hajoon enthusiastically agreed. He offered to drive up a day ahead and make all arrangements.

Sammy and a few others had preplanned personal or professional engagements in those days. But most people around the room agreed.

Yoongi had not said anything yet. As people around him started murmuring plans, his eyes went to Y/N. She glanced at Sammy and shook her head.

He felt his heart skip a beat.

Soon Jaehyeong pulled Y/N up from the armrest of the sofa that she was resting against, coaxing her to dance and spoke louder over the music and the chatter. “No excuses, you are coming.”

“Yeah I will take care of Ash, don’t worry,” Sammy offered.

“Stop behaving like you don’t know any of us,” Eunjae, another of their friends, chimed in.

Of course, she now knew so many of them. Some of them, she had also vacationed with before. But never without Sammy. But she had to deal with those nerves. A) She has to step a little out of her comfort zone. B) She wanted to go to the beach, especially if a certain acquaintance was also going. She had not heard him disagreeing, so she hoped that he was coming.

Slowly her attempts to disagree were shut down by her friends screaming louder than the last person. The ruckus carried on for a few seconds till she sighed out loud and said, “Fine, I will come.”

A few minutes later, Y/N came back and sat beside Yoongi, “Are you coming to Sokcho?” she held his gaze, unfaltering. She thanked the liquor in her system for calming her relatively jumpy nerves. He smiled and nodded. She nodded back. “Okay, good.”

Now, in the practice room, a message showed up on Yoongi's phone, “Is it going to be a shirt over a t-shirt kinda cold, or sweater and hoodies kinda cold?”

Yoongi did not notice his smile coming back, as usual, the others did. Before he could reply another message popped up, “I don’t want to overpack and tug along an unnecessarily large bag.”

Sokcho in April is pleasant. Yoongi has been there around this time before. “Shirts over t-shirts should be fine,” he replied. Instantly, an image of Y/N in one of his light blue shirts flashed across his mind. He could feel his cheeks heat up again.

“Perfect! See you tomorrow then :)” 

“See you :)” [Can’t wait!]

______________________________________

The aforementioned tomorrow arrived agonisingly slowly. Yoongi had spent the evening with a couple of his friends. The alcohol did nothing to calm him. His friends persistently teasing him did not help. He thought he was private enough with his feelings for you. But with some of his dumbest friends catching up to it, he began to fear if you had an inkling. Surely, you must have known. Did you think he was odd? Creepy even? But why would you still be friends with him then? Surely, if you knew how much he liked you, and it did not make you uncomfortable, maybe you liked him too?

“You know, Sammy has probably told Y/N by now,” Yijeong said, smacking his lips as he put down the shot glass. He reached out for a chicken wing, but Yoongi slapped his hand away, picked up one of the biggest pieces and tore into it.

Hoseok laughed, his drunk-flushed face getting redder. “Why don’t you just tell her how you feel? What’s the worst that could happen?” he said, folding his arms over his chest, spreading his legs out and up on the chair next to Yoongi.

Yoongi frowned back at his friend and almost dared him to answer his own question with his stare. Has Hobi actually forgotten the whining, pining piece of battered butter he had become when he was crushing on Hyeri (Hobi’s now girlfriend), not even an entire year back?

Breaking eye contact, Hobi shrugged a little before pouring himself another drink.

“Yeah just tell her man,” Yijeong urged, stopping to suck on the chicken bone and adding, “The more you wait, the worse the what ifs get.”

Yoongi gave his friend a side-eye but internally applauded this rare bit of wisdom.

“I want to,” he said in a quiet tone, alerting the other boys to the gravity of his words, a more understanding demeanour dawning over them, replacing their shit-eating grins.

“I mean, I have tried to— rather planned to tell her for a while,” Yoongi continued. “Every time I think of her, I am more convinced than ever that I should ask her out,” gesturing lively with his hands to signify something.

“You know like.. for a good old date, becau- because.. she has such a warm, comforting presence that I can be completely myself with her, no judgements, and I.. keep imagining all these scenarios where she can be as comfortable with me and share her likes and dislikes.” He stopped for a breath.

“I want to give her that space as well. But every time I am with her I am so soaked up in the conversation that there is no beat to bring this up, and when there is a pause, I see her interacting with Sammy or Dojoon, people who she has known for years I mean, and I feel like I will never know her as they know her and maybe I am intruding. Fucking hell, I can’t stop feeling like I am not worth her time - me, my life, all of this,” he gestured around at his very posh and minimalistic living room.

“Yeah, all of that sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” Hobi groaned once he was certain Yoongi’s self-pitying soliloquy was over.

At a questioning look from the older guy, he shrugged and said, “See I know how difficult it is to open up to someone, especially for you. While you have every right to feel anxious and giddy, you cannot make decisions in your head on behalf of the person you like.” 

Yoongi was about to say something, probably along the lines of ‘I am not doing anything on behalf of her,’ but sensing a rebuttal, Hobi leaned forward, held a finger up and looked directly into Yoongi’s eyes.

Yoongi could not remember the last time he felt like he was getting a scolding from the dance leader but he was almost certain it never happened in a personal space. He gulped down the last bit of chicken he was chewing and held Hobi’s gaze, as if to say, “Okay, I am listening. Carry on.”

Hobi started, “Y/N has never said that you are not worth her time. In fact if I remember correctly, she has made time for you, to spend with you, every time you have met, even unannounced.” he paused and sniggered alongside Yijeong as they saw Yoongi wince slightly at his own antics. 

When Sammy told the others, Yoongi wanted to argue that he exaggerated his fluster but then the bastard pulled out receipts. When he returned from walking Woolfie on the first day Yoongi dropped in, he had clicked a picture of the dinner spread. But most importantly, in the background, there was Yoongi looking-no, scratch that- beaming, at Y/N. That single picture had Yoongi’s horde of generally chill friends invested in his crush situation.

[Fond smile]

“I understand your hesitancies but you need to stop kicking your own butt. You like her, hyung. Ask her out. Whatever she responds with, you’ll have a definite answer. No more mental gymnastics,” Hobi finished.

Straightforward. Logical. 

Not that these didn’t strike Yoongi before. But hearing it from a friend, head-on made him want to buckle up more. He nodded slightly.

“Hey and you have a three-day opportunity window coming up. I will even be your wingman if you need,” Yijeong offered in earnest.

A resounding “No” greeted his enthusiasm, to which he rolled his eyes and muttered, “Just wanted to help!” and carried on with his chicken wings foraging.

Three days is not a long time. But three days is longer than the few hours he had with her each time so far. As he saw his friends out and started putting together a bag for the trip, he tried to plan how to take things forward.

Surely all he had to do was talk. Tell you what was on his mind, about how much he likes you, how he intends to date you if you will have him. It should not be a life-threatening level anxiety-ridden matter.

And yet he felt those mammoth fluttering in his stomach. Unpleasant to the point of becoming nauseating. Deep down he knew he was scared of an outright rejection and he could not will himself together to face it.

Just then his phone dinged with a notification. It was placed on top of the dresser at the other end of the room. Shoving the last shirt in the bag and zipping it shut, he let out a sigh as he dragged his feet across the floor. 

Before he could reach out to grab the handset, Scar jumped up on the dresser.

“Are you not sleepy yet?” Yoongi asked softly and scratched the top of the cat’s head just like he knew the feline preferred. As the cat started purring, pleased with the petting and attention, Yoongi’s phone dinged a couple more times.

With his other hand, he reached around Scar and pulled his phone up near his face.

The latest couple of messages were from Namjoon.

“Hyung, think I left my AirPods at yours”

“Please get them tomorrow”

Yoongi tsk-ed internally. Of course.

As he dragged down the notification bar further to reveal more messages, his heart skipped a bit.

Y/N’s name shone out brighter to him than all else. The lockscreen showed that she had shared an image with him.

He could feel his heartbeat, loud and clear. As he clicked on the chat, his mind raced faster.

The Y/N smile came back. Only Scar saw it now. A little annoyed at the absence of scratches, he mewled lowly. 

Yoongi looked up and still smiling, turned his phone towards the cat.

“Think you will be friends with her?”

It was a picture of Ash sitting inside Y/N’s bag, with the caption, “Someone wants to come along.”

[Photo Y/N sent]

She would not text him if she was not thinking about him, right? That has to be a good thing, right? Before he could overthink too much, Yoongi wrote back, “I understand the appeal <3”

What the fuck does that mean? It means if I were Ash I would also want to go with you. Anywhere. Everywhere.

“I wish she could come too,” he added, thinking that would be more appropriate.

Quick dings again. Heart reacts to both messages.

His heart was now beating in his throat.

“Maybe next time I can look for a pet-proofed place and bring her along,” her reply read.

Heart react. Next time, “we” can book a pet-proofed place and go just by ourselves.

“I am sure she will love it,” he typed in.

“I will miss her,” Y/N replied, adding in another message, “Haven’t spent nights away from her yet.”

“Three days will pass before you know it”

It seemed like he was also telling this to himself. But as a warning.

“She will be too busy stealing Woolfie’s treats anyways,” he added.

He had grown very fond of that kitten. Mischievous, but adorable. Maybe the fondness stems from being involved in her rescue endeavour. 

Y/N does not know it was him yet. That is a rabbit hole he refuses to go down now.

A laugh react to the second message.

“That is true. And I think she is more fond of Sammy than me, anyways. So she should be fine.”

“I am sure that is not true. But yes, she will be alright!” he added an arm emoji and replied.

Two more dings.

“Hopefully”

“See you tomorrow. Goodnight! :)”

“See you! Goodnight :)”

Ding. Heart react.

Yoongi let out an audible breath.

Yeah. He has to grow a spine and speak. Tomorrow. At the earliest chance he can get.

[adorethedistance]

I Don’t Just Like You - Trevor Zegras x Hughes!Reader

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, tension/fighting, jealousy, Dixie lmao

Words: 2161

Summary: Tension builds with Trevor over his new partnership until the two of you confess your feelings.

A/n: Y'all I am so not doing well rn. I am processing a break up and questioning my social circle and im so lonely that I needed to write some angst to cope with it all. Hope yall like this one and maybe it'll get a smut part two depending on whether or not I can handle writing that rn lol. Enjoy!

Moose: call me ASAP

Me: sorry Luke. can’t rn

Moose: Awesome 😎

My hands quake with anxiety as I fiddle with the tarnished silver ring adorning my pointer finger. The moisture of my skin eases the movement of turning the ring around my finger. I hiss when the gemstone catches on the skin of my middle finger and immediately drop my hands. 

Currently, I’m staring down at the risky text I just sent Trevor. About an hour ago he had messaged me:

Trev: hey sorry can’t swing tn after all 

Trev: rain check?

My jaw tightens with contempt and I huff out a sigh as my bottom lip trembles. I feel pathetic for just how impacted I am by his every word. I angrily hit the digital keys of my phone’s keyboard as I type my reply.

Me: really? 

Me: again??

Trev: don’t be like that

I’m not the most confrontational person. On any given day some might say I’m the furthest thing from confrontational. To put it rather plainly, I just don’t like it. I hate the way I get anxiety butterflies in my stomach. I hate absorbing the emotions of the other person, especially when rejection is involved. I hate what projections I’m opening myself up to receiving from the other person. There are too many pitfalls and not enough landing pads. Which is why it’s so out of character for me to press him on this.

Me: like what Trev?

This is the third time in a row Trevor has cancelled plans on me. I don’t know if he’s aware of that. I don’t even know what he’s been up to lately. He’s refused to tell me what he’s been doing instead, which didn’t raise my suspicions by any means until mom sent me an article. She knows about how my crush on Trevor has had roots in our childhoods. 

Trev: you know what I’m talking about

After I stopped playing hockey with my brothers, I was still always around to notice Trevor’s presence in our home. When I moved to California for college, I wanted to chase my music dreams but I didn’t realize it would come at the expense of my support system. Being long distance with my family put me in a hard spot, but having a familiar face to rely on made the adjustment easier. As we spent more time together independent of my brothers, Trevor and I became close friends. The problem was my crush has been growing ever since we became friends, hence why mom sent me an article called, “Did Dixie D’Amelio admit to dating Trevor Zegras?”.

Me: at least say it with your chest

Sent. Delivered. I wait. Trevor’s response bubble appears for a second. It disappears, then reappears, then disappears again. I’m about ready to toss my phone across the room when his message delivers.

Trev: call me

I groan out in frustration and this time actually end up chucking my phone onto my bed. I run my hands through my hair, along the warm expanse of my scalp. A self-soothing gesture by all means. I pace to one side of my room before using the momentum of my steps to start back towards my phone. Just as I have it in my hand, Trevor’s contact picture covers the screen and illuminates in my grasp. I scoff out a sort of half groan and then answer.

“What, Trevor?”

“Hey, Y/n I’m great. Thanks for asking! How are you?” He responds sardonically to my cold greeting. I bite my tongue, torn between tearing into him and the stronger desire to laugh through my rage. He takes my exhale as a cue to continue. “What’s going on, Hughesy?”

In a single moment, my anger dissolves. The tenderness of that nickname, which was once reserved solely for my brothers, now belongs to me. In this moment, I find myself thinking about how grateful I am that Trevor was there for me as I transitioned into college. But the looming threat of a smile quickly vanishes as I remember how that care is nullified by Trevor’s abundantly active dating life.

“Y/nnnn?” Trevor hums into the phone.

“What?” I respond dryly.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is you cancelling on me for the third time in a row.”

“Is it really the third time in a row?” He asks under his breath, indicating he may not have intended to say it out loud at all. I roll my eyes, still actively fighting the urge to just lay into him.

“Yes, Trevor, it is!” I can practically hear him wince through the phone at the fact that I’m calling him Trevor instead of the default nickname permanently programmed into my phone. 

“Who’s that?” I hear softly over the phone. My heart flutters like a coal mine parakeet in a cage and I bite my lip, willing myself not to cry if it turns out Dixie is on the other side. Trevor whispers back,

“It’s Y/n.”

“Hey, Y/n!” Mason’s on the other end. 

“Not a good time,” Trevor tells him. Mason curses and then apologizes before retreating from Trevor’s general area. “Sorry, you were saying?” Trevor tells me at regular volume.

“You were cancelling on me again.”

“Oh. Right. I…” he switches the phone to the other ear, “I…don’t know what you want me to say.” Hello?! Could he be any more oblivious?!

“I want you to tell me what is going on!” I whine into the phone, “What is it you’re so busy with doing that you can’t see me for a week, huh? I get that you’re a professional athlete and you have a busy schedule. But I know your schedule and I know you still have a decent amount of free time. So what have you been doing?” Trevor breathes, in, then out and says,

“I’ve been seeing someone lately…” I feel my heart shatter into the tiniest fractals of what it once was and I cover my mouth to choke back the growing lump in my throat.

“I can’t do this right now,” I say with the utmost hurt lacing my voice, pulling the phone away from my ear to abruptly hang up on Trevor. I toss my phone on my bed once more, ignoring how the screen lights up with Trevor’s contact picture. It’s a new breed of psychological torture to sit here and ignore the calls, so I leave my phone in my bedroom as I go to splash cold water on my face. 

When I reenter my bedroom, I ignore the buzzing device to put on a comfortable pair of pajamas. He’s called once, twice, a fourth, and a fifth before finally giving up. Despite my phone being silent, I don’t trust it enough to take it with me and leave it to charge on my bed. I settle on the couch to open my new pint of Ben and Jerry’s, putting on my favorite show in the hopes of laughing through the pain. 

Somewhere between first and second episode, I had dozed off after returning the ice cream to the freezer. I’m not sure what it is about crying that knocks me on my ass like that, all I know is that it works. 

I’m abruptly pulled from my sleep when I hear the harsh banging on my front door. I jump up from the couch, the spike in adrenaline carrying me out of my sleepy haze. When I get to the front door, some of the tiredness catches up with me again and I groggily open the front door. Behind it stands Trevor, with sad puppy eyes and a sheepish expression. I can’t help the scowl that comes to rest on my face when I see him, but he doesn’t falter. Instead, he pushes past me to come into the apartment and sits on the couch expectantly. Since there’s no way to physically remove him from my space, I bargain, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch, as far from Trevor as I can manage. He doesn’t let the cold gesture phase him, and scooches obliviously into the center of the couch.

“What’s going on Hughsey?” I scoff at the nickname and Trevor cringes in frustration. “What is this?”

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

“Why are you icing me out all of a sudden?”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I ask, spiteful, with malice. 

“Clearly not since I’m here spending time with you.”

“Was that so hard for you to do? I mean, with your busy schedule and all?”

“What are you-” Trevor pauses for a split second. “Wait, are you… jealous? Y/n?”

I want to protest. I want to scream and rant and bite back, how he could be so conceited to think I’d be jealous of a relationship that I previously thought was rumored? But I can’t. 

Because he’s right.

I bite my tongue. There’s nothing else I can do. Not unless I want to make an even bigger fool of myself than I already have.

“Oh my god, that’s totally it. You’re jealous.” Trevor says, complete with a laugh and a sigh. The shame of actually being jealous of a girl I’ve never met, the disappointment of finding out Trevor is dating someone, and the exhaustion from already having cried earlier comes collapsing down on me at once. Hot tears well on the lining of my lashes and I stare at the ground, afraid to draw attention to myself. Upon seeing me cry, Trevor’s smile immediately vanishes and he scoots closer once more.

“Hey, shhh, it’s okay.” He envelops me in a hug that I’m too overwhelmed to reciprocate. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.” 

I merely shake my head, unaware of what I could even say in this moment.

“I was… I was just laughing ‘cause I should’ve known.”

“Should’ve known what?”

“That you’d be jealous.” I wriggle out of the hug and look at Trevor sincerely.

“How would you have known?”

“You know, for as long as I can remember, your brothers have talked about you having a crush on me.” I cower in humiliation, my face glowing hotter than the surface of the sun.

“I wish they wouldn’t have.”

“No?” Trevor asks, genuinely.

“It’s embarrassing,” I confess, fully recoiling from the physical contact he had initiated before. 

“It’s cute.” Trevor earnestly admits as he takes my hand in his. I scoff instinctively but don’t pull my hand away again.

“I don’t need your pity, Trev.” I say so softly he nearly misses the sentiment. Once he processes my worlds, I feel him physically relax next to me at the sound of his familiar nickname.

“Well, what do you need? I’m here now.”

“I honestly don’t know.” I finally dare to meet his eyes. He’s looking at me so sweetly, earnestly. As if I hadn’t just chewed him out two minutes earlier. Then, I look away before I can say what I’m about to say next. “I don’t just like you.” Trevor’s face lifts ever so slightly. The extent of which, one might miss had they not known him a lifetime the way I have.

 “You know… the only reason I started seeing her was to get over you.”

“What?” I ask, sharply whipping my head to stare at Trevor, as if awaiting the reveal that this was just some elaborate prank from the start.

“Yeah. I started dating Dixie because I thought dating someone different would distract me. You know, it’s not a good look to have a crush on your best friend’s little sister.”

My heartrate picks up with his confession. This feels too good to be true. As if real life is waiting for us right outside the front door. The real life that doesn’t see me and Trevor together ever in our lifetimes. Terrified of the change that would occur from letting him walk away, I reach up and hold his face in my hands, kissing him passionately. Trevor wraps his hand around my wrist and kisses me back with twice as much fervor. 

We break apart, out of breath and full of smiles. Trevor looks at me for guidance and we fizzle into a nervous laughter. I reach up and brush my thumb tenderly across his cheekbone. He grabs my hand and turns his head, placing a sweet kiss on my palm. I then reach up and break the moment by ruffling my hand through his hair to mess it up.

“Hey!” He yells, grabbing waist to dig his hands into my sides. I screech with laughter as I try to escape. Trevor eventually yields and slips his hands from my sides to interlace with one another and pull me closer. I scoot in to sit against him, sitting half on top of him as our breathing falls in sync.

“I don’t just like you, too, Hughesy.” I smile.

“...You should probably call Dixie.”

“Oh shit.”

***

A/N: not my best work but not my worst either!

[hysteria-things]

✿ PROMISE? ✿ PART FIVE.

ʚ♡�� 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and your former best friend chris sturniolo hang out for the first time in a long time.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 822

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i added a promise? tag to make it easier to navigate!

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 recorded video when chris opens his door without knocking. nick lets out a yelp and aggressively takes off his headphones, staring up at his brother with horror and anger in his eyes. “for fuck sake!”

“stop yelling, it’s just me. have you heard from y/n?”

he gives him a look that looks like disgust, but his facial expressions are so similar that chris doesn’t know which emotion is which anymore. “not since the afternoon. why?”

“just curious,” he says, closing the door.

chris’s phone is on the kitchen island facing upwards. he taps the screen to see if there are any notifications, but there aren’t. he groans. it’s almost midnight, she has to be home by now.

as matt is walking into the kitchen, his phone goes off making him lunge across the island to grab it. matt stops in his tracks and looks at chris with wide eyes. “i’m confused.”

“keep on walking, lover boy,” chris says, holding up his hand in a shooing gesture. the boy rolls his eyes and opens the fridge. he stays hunched over the island, a smile appearing on his face when he sees it.

y/n l/n is typing…

he didn’t bother waiting for you to finish typing when he opened up snapchat. your bitmoji is on the bottom left corner above the keyboard, the three dots in the thought bubble moving from side to side as you type. a breath of relief was released from him when your message popped up.

Y/N

| i made it home

| see?

ME

| fine you win

| thank you for keeping your promise :)

Y/N

| as always (unlike you😒)

ME

| I SAID I WAS SORRY

Y/N

| i know i know i’m just kidding

| you're lucky claudia kept throwing up or i would’ve stayed there for wayyyy longer

ME

| LMAO

| that must’ve been fun to witness😍

Y/N

| for sure

ME

| are you free tomorrow?

Y/N

| i have no life

| so yes!

ME

| cool!

| do you want to hang out?

| like the good old days🥹

Y/N

| sure why not?

ME

| BET

| i’m going to text you to plan i hate using snapchat

| see you tomorrow :)

matt approaches next to chris. he’s sipping a root beer he got from the fridge a few minutes ago. “you’re going to hang out with y/n tomorrow?”

chris hides his phone by bringing it to his chest. he stares at him with a look of annoyance. “can you not snoop at my private conversations?”

he shrugs. “i wasn’t snooping. it just so happened to be in my eyesight.”

“get out of here, lover boy.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 journal more frequently than you have anticipated. you’ve had this journal for a while but stopped for no apparent reason, but ever since the triplets, it’s been a number one priority in your eyes.

your brain moves faster than your hands, so you write down whatever your scrambled thoughts are telling you to. half the time you don’t even know what you’re writing.

that’s when you remember you’re supposed to hang out with chris today, so you place your pen into the crack of the book and start texting.

you get up from the bed and take a shower. after that, you find a decent outfit and throw it on. by descent you mean a black long-sleeve shirt and gray sweatpants. you’re basic like that.

walking to your parent’s room, your mother sits at her vanity putting the final touches on herself. you knock on the doorway, and she looks at you through the mirror and smiles. “hi, sweetie.”

“hey.” you reply. “so… just letting you know chris is coming over soon, even though you guys are going out anyway.”

“your father is in the car waiting.” she says, getting up and grabbing her purse. she grabs your shoulder lightly. “i’m glad you guys are starting to talk again.”

she kisses you on the head, exiting the room.

there is a knock at the front door, causing you to spring up from the couch.

you stand there for a beat before opening it. chris stands there with his hands in his pockets, lifting his head when he hears you. you look behind his shoulder and lift a brow. “your clones aren’t joining you today?

he laughs and shakes his head. “no. you didn’t ask for them.” you open the door wider for him to step in.

he looks around. “still feels like my second home.”

the heart inside your body flutters at the comment, but you clear your throat to distract yourself. “do you want anything? a drink or something?”

“i’m good, thanks.” he looks down at you, a grin plastered on his face. “i just want to hang out with you.”

biting your lip, you smile. “ask and you shall receive.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— i’ve been thinking about jumping ; things can go rough and harsh when your emotions overwhelmed you

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

You sit on the edge of your bed, hugging your knees to your chest as the events of the day play on repeat in your mind like a broken record. The weight of everything—your academic struggles, the unspoken tension with your parents, and now the appointment result—presses down on you, your chest heavy with a nameless frustration. You want to scream, hit something, or just curl up and disappear, but all you can do is bury your face in the soft fabric of Tsukishima's hoodie, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne lingering on it.

The oversized sleeves feel like a small shield against the turmoil swirling inside you, but they can't stop the barrage of thoughts. What did the doctor say again? You try to recall every word, focusing on the moment instead of the whirlwind in your head. But even then, the tension in your body remains.

Your phone buzzes in your bag, snapping you out of your thoughts. You reach for it, flipping it open with half-hearted curiosity. It's a photo. From Tsukishima. Your heart skips, then thuds in your chest as you open the image—Tsukishima and his teammates, standing proudly with the volleyball championship trophy, their faces glowing with accomplishment.

Your lips twitch upward, an involuntary smile breaking through your melancholy. His message from this morning about the game resurfaces in your mind, and you wish you could’ve been there. Seeing him in that moment, surrounded by his teammates, makes you feel proud, even if a small pang of guilt tugs at your chest for missing it. You were supposed to attend his game but unfortunately you have an appointment scheduled by your mom today.

You stare at the photo for a while, unsure of what to say. He looks happy, genuinely happy in a way you don’t often see. He’s always so serious, so focused, but here, in this photo, he’s smiling with his eyes, that small smirk playing on his lips.

Finally, you type a response:

Congratulations, champ 🎉🎊

You add an extra line of happy stickers, trying to convey the joy you assume he must be feeling.

It doesn't take long before his reply pops up.

Are you done with your appointment? How was it?

You hesitate for a moment, your fingers hovering over the screen. How do you even explain? You’re not really sure what you feel anymore.

Yeah, it went fine

His next message comes almost immediately.

At your dorm now?

Yes, just got back.

Do you want to join us? We’re celebrating with Korean barbecue.

Your initial instinct is to say yes. It sounds nice—fun, even. A distraction from your racing mind, a chance to be near him again. But you stop yourself before you type. You know how you are right now. You’re not in the mood for loud celebrations, for crowded places, for the inevitable small talk that you’ll have to force with his teammates. They don’t know you, and frankly, you don’t feel like pretending everything’s fine. Not tonight. So instead, you respond,

I think I’ll skip this one. Feeling a bit tired 🥹

You watch the chat bubble indicating that he’s read the message, but no immediate reply comes. Your fingers grip the phone a little tighter, heart beating in your throat. You wonder if he’s annoyed or disappointed.

Finally, a message pops up.

Okay. Rest well 🤍

The simplicity of his words eases some of the tension, but only just. You reply with a quick, Have fun with the team! 😊 before tossing the phone aside. You fall back on your bed, staring at the ceiling. The quiet of your room feels suffocating, but you’re too drained to move.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes again, breaking the silence. You sigh, reaching for it with a sluggish arm. It's your mom this time.

Doctor Adi just sent me a prescription for your medication. Can you go to the drugstore and pick it up before dinner?

You groan, kicking your feet in the air in childish defiance, but you know you have no choice. Dragging yourself up, you grab your wallet and throw on the hoodie—Tsukishima’s hoodie, the one he gave you that night after your movie marathon at his place.

As you step outside, the evening air feels cool against your skin. The walk to the pharmacy is quiet, almost eerily so, but you appreciate the solitude. It gives you time to think, though you’re not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Your mind is still racing, stuck somewhere between anger, sadness, and confusion.

You reach the drugstore and head inside, your thoughts still buzzing like white noise. The bright lights and sterile smell are grounding, in a way, pulling you out of your head as you approach the counter. You hand over your prescription and wait, shifting from foot to foot.

Just as you’re zoning out, you catch a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye. Tall, lanky, with those distinctive glasses perched on his nose—Tsukishima. Your heart skips, your body tensing. He’s standing at the cashier, his back to you as he pays for something. You freeze, instinctively pulling the hood up over your head, hoping he won’t notice you. Maybe—

His eyes meet yours.

Damn it.

His brows furrowing in that familiar, questioning way. He starts walking toward you, and for a moment, you consider bolting out of the store. But your feet are rooted to the spot “What are you doing here?” he asks, stopping just a few steps away, his voice low and calm.

You shrug, trying to play it off casually. “Picking up my prescription.”

He looks at you, his gaze sharp, like he’s assessing whether or not to believe you. “Are you sick?”

Your voice comes out higher than intended. “No! It’s just vitamins.”

He doesn’t seem convinced but doesn’t press further. His eyes linger on you for a moment longer, and you feel like you’re under a microscope.

“What about you?” you ask, trying to steer the conversation away from yourself. “What are you doing here?”

“One of my teammates burned his hand,” he replies, holding up a small bag from the pharmacy. “Had to pick up a first aid kit.”

You nod, unsure of what else to say. Silence stretches between you, heavy and uncomfortable. You can’t tell if it’s just your own nerves, or if something has shifted between you two.

“You’re still invited to dinner,” he says, breaking the silence. “We’re eating across the street.”

You hesitate again, your heart tugging in two different directions. Part of you wants to go, to be with him, to see him smile again like in that photo. But the other part—the heavier, louder part—wants to retreat, to hide away from the world and the strange, gnawing feelings inside of you.

“I’ll pass,” you finally say, your voice soft. “I’m really not up for it tonight.”

Tsukishima’s face remains unreadable, his calm demeanor unchanged. He nods slightly, giving a small shrug. “Alright,” he says, his tone neutral. “See you later then.”

You watch him walk out the door—crossing the street then entering the restaurant, leaving you standing there, the awkward tension hanging in the air even after he’s gone. You let out a deep breath, rubbing your temples as the dull ache in your chest refuses to go away. For a second, you wonder if you made the right decision. Should you have gone with him? Would it have been better to push through your exhaustion and just enjoy the dinner? Something’s off. Normally, he’d at least touch your cheek or pat your head, a small gesture he picked up after you started dating. But today, nothing. It’s like he’s keeping his distance.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear your name being called at the counter. As you approach, the cashier greets you with a curious question.

“Do you know the tall guy who was just here?”

“Yeah, I do,” you answer, wondering where this is going.

“Well, excuse me if this is inconvenient, but he left his credit card. Would you be able to give it to him?”

You blink, surprised, before you nod. “Oh, yeah, sure.” After paying, you take the card, glancing over at the restaurant where Tsukishima disappeared. You inhale deeply, debating for a second before finally deciding to go after him.

Crossing the street, you enter the restaurant, scanning the room for him and his teammates. You spot them instantly—a group huddled around a table, Tsukishima grilling meat while they talk animatedly. As you slowly walk towards the table, you hear fragments of their conversation.

“Hey, Tsukishima, where’s your girlfriend? Why doesn’t she come to your games?”

“Yeah, I thought she’d be here since it’s your last game—”

Your steps falter as you take in their words, heart racing. His last game? Why didn’t he tell you? A whirlwind of emotions swirls inside you—confusion, hurt, frustration. You hadn’t even realized how important tonight was for him. And why didn’t he say anything?

Just then, Yamaguchi spots you. “Oh, hey Tsukki, look!” He gestures toward you with a bright smile, nudging Tsukishima.

Tsukishima’s eyes lock with yours from across the room, and for a moment, the air between you two is thick with unsaid words. He stands, walking towards you with a steady calmness. You stammer slightly under his gaze, your grip tightening around his forgotten credit card. As he approaches, his familiar presence washes over you, but there’s still a gnawing tension beneath the surface.

When he reaches you, he takes the card from your hand without a word, but his fingers graze yours lightly. “Thanks,” he mutters, his voice softer than usual, before placing his hand on the small of your back, guiding you toward the table. The touch that you’d missed earlier is back, but it feels different now—charged, like there’s more that neither of you is willing to admit.

“This is her,” Tsukishima introduces you to the table with a smile that feels almost out of character, as though he’s both proud and slightly awkward about it. You give a small bow, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as the group eyes you with friendly curiosity. Tsukishima pulls a chair for you beside him, the gesture simple but grounding.

As you sit, he immediately starts preparing a plate for you, placing slices of grilled beef and arranging the sauce with his usual precision. Your eyes catch on the care in his actions—silent, but thoughtful. You want to say something, to ask him why he didn’t mention it was his last game, but you hold back, not wanting to cause a scene in front of his friends.

One of his teammates smirks, breaking the silence with a teasing tone. “So, Tsukki, when did you start dating freshmen? I thought older women were more your type.”

The comment catches you off guard, your surprise reflected in your eyes. You glance at Tsukishima, hoping for some kind of reaction, but he remains calm, focused on the grill as he flips another slice of beef. He doesn’t even acknowledge the jab, continuing to serve you without missing a beat.

Yamaguchi quickly jumps in, nudging the guy with a disapproving look. “That’s rude, man. Besides, she’s sweet, kind, and polite once you get to know her.” He said with a playful wink at you.

The guy mumbles an apology, and you force a polite smile, feeling an odd mixture of relief and awkwardness settle over you. The tension from earlier hasn’t left, but now it’s mixed with the pressure of being under the spotlight, surrounded by Tsukishima’s friends.

“I thought you wouldn’t make it,” Yamaguchi adds with a friendly grin. “But I’m glad you could join us after all.”

You chuckle softly, though your mind is still buzzing. “Yeah, I’m sorry I missed the game. I bet it was amazing. Congratulations on the win, you guys are really impressive.”

Tsukishima continues to silently serve you, placing food on your plate as the conversation around the table flows. His friends share stories about the game, and you do your best to laugh at their jokes, but it’s hard to concentrate. Your mind keeps drifting back to the earlier comment—his last game—and the fact that he never told you.

The night passes in a blur of laughter, shared food, and introductions to the other girls at the table. You try to engage, to be present, but your gaze keeps flickering back to Tsukishima, watching the way he interacts with his friends, wondering why he’s been holding back with you lately. The evening is warm and pleasant on the surface, but underneath, there’s a lingering feeling that something important is still unsaid.

You walked in silence next to Tsukishima, the cool evening air brushing against your skin as the two of you made your way back to the dorm. The streetlights cast long shadows on the ground, but all you could focus on was the heavy tension in the air. His silence gnawed at you. It wasn’t the usual comfortable quiet; tonight, it was laden with unsaid words, and you could feel the frustration bubbling inside you, making your chest tighten.

You sighed softly, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. His face was calm, his gaze forward, but there was something off. After everything today—from rushing to your appointment, the sudden dinner with his teammates, to this strange silence—you felt drained. The more you thought about it, the more your frustration grew. Why hadn’t he told you? Why did you have to hear about his retirement from someone else?

After a long moment of brooding silence, you couldn't hold it in anymore. The words spilled out before you could stop them, sharper than you intended. “Why didn’t you tell me it was your last game?” Your voice cut through the quiet night, the annoyance clear in your tone. “You never mentioned that you’d be retiring from the team so soon.”

Tsukishima came to a halt, turning to face you with a look that made your heart sink. His lips twitched into a faint smirk, though there was no humor behind it. “I’m in my last year of uni, if you haven’t realized yet,”

His words were laced with that typical sass you were used to, but tonight, instead of rolling your eyes or laughing it off, they felt like a slap to the face. Normally, you could handle his biting comments, even find them amusing, but after the emotional exhaustion of the day, this hit a little too close to home.

“And what about it?” You couldn’t hide the irritation bubbling to the surface. “Like it’s that hard to tell me personally?”

Tsukishima's expression shifted, the faint smirk disappearing as he met your gaze with a frown. “Did you even interested about this part of my life?” His voice was casual, almost like he was throwing a joke into the mix, but it felt like an accusation.

Your chest tightened at his words. “What do you mean?” You took a small step toward him, your hand almost reaching for his, but you stopped, unsure. The gap between you felt more noticeable than ever. “I’m your girlfriend. Of course I am. I care about every part of your life.”

Tsukishima’s gaze flickered away from you, avoiding your eyes as his brow furrowed slightly. “Then maybe you should’ve asked about it whenever we had conversations.”

The calmness of his voice hurt more than if he had raised it. Your heart sank further into your chest, and you could feel the guilt settling in. He was right. You hadn’t asked—not about volleyball, not about his team, not about his games. You’d been so caught up in trying to navigate this new relationship, in figuring out how to be his girlfriend, that you never stopped to think about the parts of his life that mattered to him.

But still, his words stung. You felt like you were being blamed for something you didn’t even realize you were supposed to do. “Why are you blaming me for something I didn’t know?” Your voice came out quieter now, laced with hurt. “I’m sorry—”

“When was the last time you came to one of my games?” he interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he stared at you. “Do you even remember?”

You opened your mouth to answer but quickly realized you couldn’t. You haven’t been to one of his games in months. Not since Yamaguchi dragged you along during your winter class Since then, you had been too wrapped up in your own academic struggles and the whirlwind of emotions that came with your new relationship to even think about attending.

Tsukishima scoffed at your silence, shaking his head. “I’ll tell you, then. Volleyball has been a huge part of my life for years. Retiring today wasn’t an easy decision, and you didn’t care enough to find out.”

The weight of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t just frustration in his voice now—it was hurt, too. Your breath hitched as you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, his disappointment in you sinking deeper than you could bear.

“I’m sorry, Kei,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. The tears you had been holding back were now threatening to spill, and you hated yourself for it. You never wanted to make him feel this way, and the realization that you had hurt him was more painful than anything he could’ve said.

Tsukishima inhales deeply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to calm himself down. He steps closer to you, his expression softening just a fraction as he places his hand on your waist, pulling you into a gentle embrace. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, though his voice still holds a touch of tension. “I’m sorry I lashed out. Let’s just get back to your dorm.”

But there was still a tension in his body, and you could feel it. His embrace was warm, but it wasn’t the comforting kind of warmth you were used to from him. It was almost like he was holding back—keeping some of his emotions buried, away from you. And that hurt even more.

The two of you continued walking, hand in hand, but the silence that stretched between you felt heavier than before. His grip was firm, as if he didn’t want to let you go, but the air was thick with things left unsaid. You kept stealing glances at him, wondering what he was thinking, if he was still upset, if things would ever feel normal again.

When you finally reached the entrance to your dorm, you swiped your access card, the beeping sound cutting through the tension. You were about to step inside when you heard him call your name softly.

You turned back, your heart in your throat as you met his gaze.

“Next time,” he began, his voice quieter than usual, “just… tell me what’s going on in your life. And ask me what’s going on in mine. We need to update each other. That’s how this is supposed to work.”

His words were gentle, but they carried a weight of importance, and you nodded, guilt gnawing at you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s my first relationship… I should’ve—”

“I know,” Tsukishima interrupted, his lips curving into the smallest of smiles. “And it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

His smile was small, but it was enough to make your heart warm again, if only for a moment. You nodded, biting your lip as you took a step toward the door. But just before you could leave, his voice stopped you once more.

“Hey.” He gestured toward the plastic bag you’d been holding from the drugstore. “Are you going to tell me about your sleeping medication?”

Your freeze, heat rushing to your face as you fumbled for a response, completely caught off guard. You hadn’t been prepared for that question, and once again, you found yourself at a loss for words.

decided to post it tonight since i can’t study—my brain doesn’t want to cooperate with me—for my test tomorrow 😖🤧 so wish me luck guys

tagslist (free to mention) ; @theweirdfloatything @snowthatareblack @ilovemymomscooking @nayiiryun @knightofmidnight @kozumesphone @scxrcherr @thechaosoflonging @monya-febrjack

[solkwan]

Wonwoo suddenly shares his location with you.

He was in the middle of a park.

He texts something about going on a date. An off handed comment about how he’s having a good time.

He’s in the middle of tour. . . . And he’s on a date?

You think, ’have I not suffered enough? not only did I lose you, now I have i watch you fall for another?’

He tells you about the long walk he just took through the park.

He says, “the trail was longer than expected,”

You reply, “.”

And you turn your read receipts off. Having had them on for him so long ago.

Desperately, you start looking for any evidence he’s on an actual date.

Turns out, it’s a date w his members. A simple text from hoshi confirms it. He answers your sneaky text without any hesitation and he unsuspectingly tells you the park him and his members are at is very nice.

The relief that floods your body is embarrassing, to say the least.

Then you think, ’is Wonwoo trying to make you jealous? Couldn’t possibly be, right? What could he possibly gain from lying to you?’

He keeps telling you about the park.

You text, “wonwoo.” And “stop.”

Suddenly, “why did you like me?”

His true thoughts linger in the air. ‘What was so special about him?’

Unspoken and doubtful.

You ignore it at first. It’s been months. You’re over him. You’ve spent the better half of the past year struggling with your feelings. With your loss. Your best friend, no longer able to call him that. You lost Wonwoo.

And you have this thought and text it.

“doesn’t matter. doesn’t change what happened,”

Wonwoo immediately reads it and that’s that.

But his text racks your brain. You think. And eventually, hours later—you reply.

“You’re kind. It’s what got me first. It was the way you remembered the little things—my lunch orders, important dates, my favorite bands.”

Your kindness went beyond words. I was always grateful to see you. You made my day without knowing it. I was comforted by the mere thought of you. You, who treated others so sweetly. You, who spoke softly, but never hesitated to speak your truth. You were confident, but always humble. You, who I saw in your suffering and you let me in,”

Made my heart constrict in my chest to the point it started hurting,”

Your eyes twinkled, even if you didn’t know it,”

The way you looked at me, I was able to convince myself you felt the same. Those nights we spent under the stars, tracing constellations with our fingers, laying next to each other, your phone playing whatever song you knew I was obsessed with at that time. Your smile permanently etched into my mind. You emitted more warmth than any blanket ever could provide. Your happiness was my own,”

And having you? Being by your side? Even if it was just at the ends of my day?”

God, it was more than I could ever ask for”

I knew you didn’t feel the same way. You were starting to drift from me. But, I knew I couldn’t keep It within myself for any longer. I had to tell you the truth. I had to come clean,”

Wonwoo, I loved you. More than I could ever express with my words. More than you or anyone could ever imagine. I didn’t care that you always saw me as a second priority, that you never put me first,”

I was happy to have you in any way I could. That’s how I knew I would never recover from this unrequited love. Recognizing that, and saying it aloud, nearly killed me. The pain in my chest whenever I saw you started to spread to the rest of my body,”

My mind. It racked for an explanation and it accepted excuse after excuse. It told me lies,”

Wonwoo I loved you and even if that hurt me, especially so, I was so terrified of losing you that I pushed that love deep within me. Hidden. Always lurking,”

But the thing about love is it can never be hidden for very long,”

You pause. He’s reading text after text. Your messages are full of typos and rushed commas. Each bubble changes from delivered to read. You don’t care. You need to say this now or you’re afraid you never will.

“The thought of having you for the rest of my life lingered in me. I wanted to see your glowing. I wanted your light in my life. I wanted every side of you. You were more than a love to me. You were you, and that’s why I loved you,”

And he leaves you with those thoughts and never replies back.

Pain. It’s all you feel. Disappointment. Embarrassment. Hate. You hate him. You hate him for bringing these feelings up after so long. If you had just talked it out then, would things have been different?

You fall asleep dreaming about the stars that night.

I keep having dreams where Wonwoo and I are exes. Wrote this after waking up from another dream. Proofread on the train. Is it possible to hurt from something you never had? I’m not sure. But the ache that lingers in my chest after I wake up? Yeah, I’d believe it.

[luvsymai]

FAKE BOYFRIEND ; Shoto Todoroki

Chapter 5. SEE YOU ON SATURDAY!

Genre: Romance, fluff

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“So… see you on Saturday, then?” Todoroki asked you, scratching the back of his head.

After he had asked you about going on a date, which he had referred to as ‘day’, you had corrected him shortly afterwards, you two had an agreement to go out on Saturday this week.

“Yep! But… are you not going back to the dorms with me..?” You asked.

“No. I’m visiting the hospital today.” He replied.

“Ah, okay…” You didn’t ask for any more explanation from him, as you considered the fact that it might be too personal to ask him, and you two aren’t that close to be asking about personal matters.

“Do you want me to accompany you to the dorms?” He suddenly asked, which took you back.

“N-No! You don’t have to!” You disagreed, waving your hands profusely as you rejected his offer. He nodded slowly at your answer.

“Well, I’ll have to go now, Todoroki. Stay safe on your way to the hospital!” You waved at him before turning around to go back to the dorms.

Before you could even walk another step, someone grabbed your wrist, which made you stop in your tracks as you looked at the person confusedly.

“What’s wrong, Todoroki?” You asked, confusion written all over your face.

He looked hesitant, as he replied to you.

“Can I get your number…?”

You felt your cheeks heat up at what he said, but before you could open your mouth to reply, he spoke first.

“Ah, it’s so i can contact you.. I don’t have you in my contacts yet,” He explained, which made you let out a small “oh” as you felt slightly disappointed.

You found it weird. He can just go knock at your room, or you could go to his room. But then again, it was also reasonable at the same time.

You’ll need his number too, anyway.

“Yeah, sure,” You exchanged numbers, with him typing out his number on your phone while you typed yours. You saved your contact name on his phone as (Last name), with him doing the same.

“Okay, goodbye.” He gave you back your phone, and you gave his back.

“Bye!” You waved at him with a smile. You felt your smile grow as you saw him waving back to you.

“Bye.”

Once you reached the dorms, you went to your room. It was already six in the evening, so you decided to have dinner, and do your skincare after taking a bath.

While you were doing your skincare, your phone had a notification, which you glanced over.

It was a notification from Todoroki.

Todoroki

Where do you want to go on Saturday?

Your eyes widened and you panicked as you quickly washed your slippery hands, drying your hands with your robe afterwards. You completely forgot that you agreed to on Saturday with him a few hours ago, so you were surprised when he texted you. You opened your phone and replied to him.

You

What about you?? Where do you wanna g o

go*

You cringed at the text you sent him. It sounded way too casual for your liking, but you couldn’t do anything about it as your screen was slippery because of your half-wet hands. You saw the chat bubbles, indicating that he was typing a message.

You quickly exited the iMessage app and closed your phone, placing it on the counter as you slapped your cheeks.

When you heard the little ding! notification, you quickly glanced at the reply out of nervousness.

Todoroki

I don’t mind, anywhere you want to go.

You felt your cheeks heat up reading his reply. You opened your phone and typed a message to him.

You

do you want to go on uh

a picnic perhaps??

Todoroki

Picnic perhaps? I’ve never heard of that place before.

You weren’t sure if he was way too innocent for his own good, or if it’s just because you didn’t put a comma after picnic.

It’s probably the latter.

You

ah, i mean do you want to go on a picnic, perhaps?

sorry lol i made you confused.

Todoroki

Oh, I was joking.

I understood you the first time, I apologise.

But yeah, we can go on a picnic.

You chuckled. He sounded formal even when texting.

You

okay! ^__^

Todoroki

^__^ ?

You

It’s an emoji!

cute, right?

Todoroki

I guess so?

You felt awkward at his reply, biting your lip as you thought of a reply to him.

You

also, about the picnic, i’ll just prepare the food :D

we can go during lunch time. is that okay with you?

Todoroki

Yeah, sure

You

i’ll go to your room at exactly 11:30 am

Todoroki

You don’t have to, I’ll just go to your room instead.

You can text me when you’re done.

You

well, okay!

so it’s an agreement then?

Todoroki

It’s an agreement. ^__^

You felt yourself laugh at his text, quite surprised at the emoji he used.

He’s cute, alright.

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Taglist: @eempxth @1ovesiick @meikoo @serxndipity-ipity-blog @visual-freak @h3artz4soph

[izgnanik-a]

Some more trans Ghoap? Previous fic link here

Thank you to the lovely anon who loved it so much to send me an ask for more in the funniest way. I love that you loved it.

Cw: mutual pining, sexual tension, fingering, toys, semi-public sex, more frotting, slight dom/sub, Johnny’s a pleasure dom, ftm!Simon

// Don’t like?? Don’t read // MDNI //

Having Johnny’s number meant the ball was in Simon’s court to contact him. He gave him his number because they’d had a good night, a great night even, though it was embarrassingly short.

Simon ran through his thoughts the morning soon after, realizing he probably seemed so pathetic. Cumming from humping this guy with clothes on, and then falling asleep??

He needed to move out of town ASAP.

Simon let a few days pass, anxiously eyeing the note every time he’d sit in his living room, or even staring at it from the kitchen. He’d stand at the counter, eyeing the vibrant thing until it imprinted into his mind.

What harm would come from texting Johnny back? He obviously showed interest in Simon, regardless of their night together.

And they hadn’t even gotten to the good part where Johnny’s hands would be all over him. Didn’t even get to the part where Johnny’s mouth was supposed to run through the folds of his cunt.

Fucking idiot.

Simon finally sat at the coffee table, a full week later, the night of the club event again, sticky note in hand, phone in the other. He contemplated if any of this was a good idea; bringing a stranger to his own apartment was risky but so was going to someone’s house.

But he was apparently desperate, and had no other options but a big Scottish guy who was a dirty talker and good with shoving his tongue down Simon’s throat.

He input the number into his contacts, sitting with a draft message open in front of him. He didn’t know what to say. Sup? Hey? It’s Simon? Nothing. He was so embarrassed by their last encounter that he would rather never show his face at the club again, never call.

Simon bit his tongue as he sent a shotty text of hey, and stared at the screen. He’d make himself a cup of tea, take a shower, let the message linger before he’d return to it.

The moment his hand touched the kettle —

DING.

He stared across the room to his phone on the table from the kitchen doorway. He clutched his hands into fists before moving for it. Staring at the lock screen, he eyed the message.

Took u long enough.

Simon paused, plucking it up. Do you even know if you’re texting the right person? He watched the bubbles appear and disappear.

I’m sure I am. ;)

Simon began to wonder just how many people Johnny had wooed like this at the club. How many people had fallen in Simon’s exact steps. There was technically no ulterior motive besides getting fucked — so there was no harm in playing the game, right?

Simon humored. Okay then — what color are my eyes?

There was a long pause, long enough for Simon’s kettle to whistle. His phone chirped.

Blue.

Lucky guess. Simon sat down on the couch. Half of England has blue eyes.

Then don’t ask stupid questions. Ur smarter than this. He replied.

Simon was taken aback. Johnny was blunt, but not overly critical. Maybe this wasn’t Johnny. He leaned forward in his seat. Fine. He sent. What’d we do when we left the club?

It would come out in truth whether or not Johnny was a one person at a time kind of guy, or if he really thought that Simon was just some stupid bloke.

We went back to urs, and u fucked urself on my hip. I told u how much of a good boy u were, and u came in ur pants before I could eat u out.

Simon didn’t want to show his face at the club so he skipped this week. He received a text from Johnny asking where he was, when he had lied and said he was going out with a friend, he had received a “ :( “ and “ be safe .”

The next day he received a good morning text and a soft looking selfie from Johnny; the orange hue of sunlight came in through his bedroom, dark grey sheets and blankets, his hair ruffled, sleep in his eyes. He was shirtless, tattoos creeping where the camera couldn’t fully see. But Simon outlined the roundness of his cheeks, the cushion of his chest, the absolute beauty of this man.

God — he could touch himself raw.

He sent a flimsy good morning message back, and proceeded with his day. Dinner came, and Johnny sent another photo. He was sat by candlelight, face red, and a wine glass in front of him being the culprit. His chin was leaned on his palm, pouty frown on his face.

Wish u were here.

Simon felt flushed. This man was lusting after him, and he was just feeding Johnny scraps. What would he even do if he had Johnny in front of him again?

Simon sent, how much have you had to drink?

Enough. Came back almost too quickly.

Are you driving home? Simon wondered who Johnny had gone out with. Was it with his friends? Another date? Another—?

Another date would have to reference to having gone on a date with Johnny. Simon hadn’t ever gone out with him. Only used him as a scratching post to get his rocks off.

Came with friends. Still wish u were here.

Simon started to think if he did something heroic, like showing up to where Johnny was, sweeping him into his arms, and took him home — would it get him laid.

He shouldn’t be so selfish. The man was drunk off wine. He wouldn’t take advantage of him like that.

Lmk when you get home safe. Simon sent and let his phone ding for the rest of the night. He regretted doing so when he woke up.

Waking up to drunk messages from Johnny was a handful to sort through. Half written messages, horribly written ones, and a singular photo.

Simon’s mouth was dry; Johnny was laying on his bed, shirt shucked up between his teeth, the bottom of a tattoo under his pecs showing. The hairy expanse of his stomach and happy trail showing, pants unbuttoned and pulled open to show his briefs. Johnny’s hand was holding the bulge of his cock in his pants.

The message underneath read wish u were here bad.

Simon felt his cunt throbbing perversely. He felt all urges to leave the house vanish, and all he wanted to do was touch himself like Johnny was in the photo.

It had been the last thing Johnny sent, but there wasn’t much thought to why. Simon contemplated but didn’t fight himself long before he was moving for his bedroom, unbuckling his button, and pulling the curtains over the windows before sliding his pants off.

He grabbed his silicon dildo from his closet along with his lube, situating himself up by the pillows before pouring a drizzle of lube on his fingers. He slipped his fingers between his thighs, already warm and soft under his touch. He kept the photo on his screen as he touched his clit, glancing over when he lost focus on why he’d been so bothered.

He imagined it was Johnny touching him, but he wouldn’t be so desperate and quick. Johnny would praise him, run his hands up and down his thighs as he shoved his tongue down his throat. He’d makeout with Simon until he was throbbing in his jeans, grinding himself into Simon’s hot cunt, and still refuse Simon relief.

He wouldn’t aggressively rub Simon’s clit. He’d run his fingers over his mons, along his outer lips and work his way down. Maybe he’d even eat Simon out. He’d get so cock drunk that he wouldn’t even put his fingers into Simon until he was begging him, writhing, squeezing his face between his thighs. He go at it for hours.

He wouldn’t keep shoving his cock head into Simon’s cunt to the point where it was burning. He’d make sure Simon was gushing pre before lubing himself up, and he’d play with Simon’s clit. Tease him with his tip, pushing it between his folds, and running it back over his mons. Just making a mess.

Then he’d lean over, whisper sweet things in his ear as he was pushing in.

“You’re doing so well for me. Such a sweet boy.”

“So soft. I can’t stand the way you feel under my hands. It’s too good.”

“I wish you could see the way you’re taking me. Splitting open on my cock, panting so hard, and I haven’t even gotten all of it in.”

“I love the way you clench when I play with your clit. Pushing yourself on my cock to take the rest of it. So greedy.”

“Such a good boy for me. Only for me. Say it, sweet thing. You’re mine, aren’t you? Yeah?”

Simon fucked himself down on his dildo as he rubbed his clit, eyes shut, mouth open, grinding until it pushed up against his front wall, lighting up stars in his eyes.

“That’s it. Good boy. Of course you needed something to grind up against. Be sweet for me and cum, using me as a toy to get off.”

Simon moaned painfully as he orgasmed, sitting on the full length of his dildo as he slumped down on his shoulders and knees. He grimaced as he dragged his fingers over his clit to feel the lingering shock of his orgasm. Like the masochist he was, he kept rubbing until he was jerking away from his own touch.

Sliding until he was belly down on the bed, he pressed his forehead into the sheets as he took deep breaths. Dildo abandoned behind him, covered in lube and his own excrements.

All his time was becoming occupied with obsessing over this man, over this Scottish devil who teased him and praised him. He should feel sick for doing such ludicrous acts.

But he couldn’t bring himself to take the shame he was being handed.

The photo was left without another word. No acknowledgment that it ever happened. Come the night of the queer event, and Simon was sitting in his seat with a drink in hand. He knew Johnny would come, because he’d asked, practically begged him for an answer, and he was jittery with nerves.

He’d jerked off more times than necessary to Johnny’s photo, a teasing non-nude photo, the prerequisite of promised sex. There would be no slowing down when Simon got his hands on that man. He’d tear him apart in the bathroom stall if he had to.

Simon couldn’t see the front door so he was left to wonder if Johnny was really coming. Would he come? Would he treat Simon differently? Would he cling to Simon, keep him under his arm, and drag him this way and that way all night? Or would he just take Simon to some quiet spot and finish what he was promised?

Simon was lost in thought as a crowd was closing in on the other side of the bar. He looked up from his drink.

From across the bar, the low LED lights underneath painted the high points of Johnny’s face in red, like some lucrative predator. He kept his eyes on Simon, making sure his prey didn’t run off before he could sink his teeth in.

The air felt electric, and Simon was buzzing again.

All he could think about was the photo, and the desperate ache of Simon’s thighs every night he rode his poor dildo.

Johnny rounded the bar, and Simon tried to brace his dignity before Johnny yanked it out from under his feet. His hand slid along the back of Simon’s shoulders before it wrapped around his waist, his chest pressed to his spine, cheek to Simon’s neck. The hug was as intimate as fucking was, but it was careful, stomping the line between friends and fuck buddies.

“Hel-lo sailor.��� Johnny purred against the side of Simon’s face, giving a chaste kiss to his cheek before pulling himself aside. Not far enough to give Simon space, but enough to press his chest to Simon’s arm, facing him while standing between the bar stools. “You’re here early.”

“Spying on me?”

“No.” Johnny trailed off with a seductive smirk, sliding into the seat beside Simon, still facing him. His thighs bracketing Simon’s body. “What’re you drinking?”

“Vodka.”

“In a weekday?” Johnny guffawed. “I didn’t know you were the type.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

Johnny smiled, leaning in on the back of Simon’s chair. “Oh yeah? Care to share?” He hovered in Simon’s space, and he was just choking on his spit.

Simon watched him peer at his lips, and back up to his eyes. “Got a light?”

Johnny was all hands and tongue and teeth. His body was plush up against Simon’s, keeping him pinned up against some stranger’s car in the dark of the parking lot.

Simon let his head tip back against the roof of the car as Johnny bit all along his throat, mouthing and nipping along his collar. Simon gasped as Johnny managed to get a thigh between his legs, searching until he got the right angle and—

Simon whined out loudly, like a kicked puppy, and clenched his mouth shut when Johnny pressed down on him.

“Feels that good, huh?” Johnny pressed his smiling lips to Simon’s cheek, holding the other side of his face. “Go on, ride it like last time.”

Simon’s face was hot red. He was driven by carnal desire and nothing more. He couldn’t explain why his thoughts left him. All he knew was how to listen.

And grind he did.

Simon gripped the back of Johnny’s neck, pressing his cheek to his bicep, and grinding his clothed cunt until he felt raw. Until his hips were giving desperate humps, meeting Johnny’s hips before bumping the side of the car.

Johnny’s hands were soothing down his back, over his hips, guiding him, and slipping into his back pockets to cup his ass. He found amusement in Simon’s empty headed lust.

His lips pressed up against Simon’s ear. “Do you want my help?” He hummed, crushing Simon’s body to the cool glass of the car again. He collected Simon’s face in his hands, looking into his eyes. “You want my hands?”

Simon panted over his wet mouth, clarifying finding him in moments of need. “Yes.”

“Yeah?” Johnny smiled, “Unbuckle your pants for me.”

Simon gulped, licking his lips, and let his hands fist in Johnny’s shirt at his sides. “Not here.”

Johnny glanced around, and shoved his hand in his pocket between them to find his car keys. He unlocked his car, underneath Simon, and reached for the handle. “Inside.”

They shuffled into the small backseat, bumping into each other within the confined space, and Simon ended up straddling over Johnny’s lap.

“I think I liked outside better.” Johnny joked, kissing Simon into silence. His hands smoothed along his thighs, squeezing his ass. “But this is fine too.”

Simon kissed down Johnny’s throat, biting his neck as he did, and kissed his collar before there was a hand in his hair bringing him up again.

“I like kissing you.” Johnny said.

“Then stop talking.”

Johnny smiled, one hand dragging underneath Simon’s shirt. “But I want to have my mouth on other parts of you.”

Simon gave a high sigh when Johnny kissed him again. Simon ran his hands down Johnny’s chest to his stomach. Teasing at his belly, feeling his happy trail, and waistband.

Johnny gazed up at him with soft eyes, “You can unbuckle my pants if you’d like.” He whispered.

“Why would I want to do that?” Simon teased.

“Maybe you’re curious.”

Simon scoffed. “Curious?”

“Because I didn’t send you the photo I wanted to the other night.”

Simon felt hot, maybe it was because the air in the car was growing thicker or because Johnny was a literal heater under him.

“You never text me back.” Johnny smirked.

“What was I supposed to say?” Simon huffed.

“A compliment would have been nice.”

“You come off as cocky, you know that?”

Johnny hummed as he leaned in to kiss Simon’s mouth again, reaching between them to unbutton his own pants. The sound of his zipper slipping down made both men look down between them. Johnny leaned back in his seat. “You next.”

Simon hesitated. Sat in the lap of a very hungry beast, he hated to steal its dinner. “There’s something I have to say first.”

“Okay.” Johnny sat closer, putting his hands on Simon’s hips.

Before Johnny’s mouth could silence him, he shouted into the hot silence. “I’m trans!”

Both men stared at each other at the intrusive utterance.

Simon felt his heart suddenly shifting to blare in his ears when Johnny stared up at him. He felt like his breath was too loud, panting too heavy, holding Johnny too softly.

“Okay.” Johnny said plainly. And his hands began petting Simon again, smoothing up and down his waist. “Do you want me to stop?”

Simon didn’t even answer. He was launched by the reassuring question, sinking his mouth into Johnny’s again. He unbuttoned his pants, desperately trying to shove them lower so he could get his underwear down enough.

The dripping smell of his hot cunt filled the space, making Johnny seem less interested than he was.

Simon’s hands were collecting one of Johnny’s off his hip, bringing it to his stomach, dragging downward to his thighs. He panted over Johnny’s mouth as he took his sweet time to Simon’s cunt.

He had a teasing twinkle in his eyes when he parted his fingers, deliberately touching Simon’s pubic hair and outer labia instead of his warmer tip.

Simon grit his teeth, gripping Johnny’s wrist. “Just fucking do it already.” He growled.

“I can’t help it. I like the way you look.”

And Simon must’ve looked like a freak; pants pulled down under his cunt, half way sitting in Johnny’s lap, half straining his thighs as he arched his ass back between the seats. His head bumping the ceiling, hands clutched Johnny’s body like some soul eating creature.

Simon relished the moment Johnny’s two fingers were closing around his swollen tip, gently tugging and stroking him between his fingers. Simon fucked into hand, panting and shaking as he held himself up.

Johnny clutched the bottom of his jaw, making him look into his eyes as he played with his tip. “Look at you. Sweet—sweet boy. You’re so big in my hands. Practically drooling into my palm.”

Simon tried to tuck his face down but Johnny kept him firm.

“You’ve been like this all night?” He pulled Simon’s face in, ghosting his tongue along his bottom lip. “Poor thing. Were you thinking about the photo? Would you like to know what got me hot that night?”

Simon whined as Johnny cupped him, nulling his chances of grinding against his palm.

Johnny mouthed in his ear. “I was thinking about eating you out, all night. And I couldn’t stop thinking about you absolutely loving it.”

Simon began moaning desperately, muffling it into Johnny’s shoulder as Johnny rubbed his palm against Simon’s clit. His fingers rubbing past his hole, making an absolute mess of him. He rocked his hips against Johnny’s every stroke, breath getting higher and higher.

“There you go. Make a mess of me, sweet thing.” Johnny held the back of Simon’s head, keeping his lips on his cheek. “I’ll suck you off dry and then maybe you can fuck me.”

Simon was seeing black spots in his vision as his eyes were rolling back. He clutched to Johnny’s wrist as he whined in agony, orgasming the hardest he has alone, and still forcing himself to grind against Johnny’s stagnant hand until he was crying from overstimulation.

He felt his cunt throbbing, his head pounding, and—Johnny’s soft hand on his thigh. He soothed his hand up to his hip, and down to where his jeans cut off access. Then up again. He didn’t usher Simon along, didn’t redirect him to a more comfortable spot yet, just soaking in the blissful moment.

Simon moved first. Sitting his bare ass on the backseat, his knees resting in Johnny’s lap, head against the glass of the door. He shut his eyes, parched again. His pants were still tangled around his thighs.

Johnny squeezed his calves softly.

Watching him, Johnny made no effort to get Simon out of his car. He was quite content with squeezing up and down Simon’s calves, rubbing his thumb into each ankle, and up to his thighs. He gave him a soft look before smiling, his thumb stroking the skin of his thigh underneath.

“Why do you do that?” Simon asked.

“Do what?”

“Touch me.”

“I like to.”

“You’re always touching me.”

“I like to.”

“Why?”

Johnny shrugged. “You’re attractive. Though your humor is really dry.”

“Alright.” Simon began tugging his pants up. “Times up. I won’t be insulted by you.”

Johnny laughed, leaning over to trap Simon against the door with a kiss. He smiled down at him, “I like you.”

Simon glanced between his eyes with bewilderment. “You don’t know me.”

“I want to.”

Simon shook his head softly. For a man who just got a handjob, he really was something else. Maybe he was always this dumb, or maybe it was just the endorphins. Johnny liked that.

“I’m a really good cook.” Johnny insisted.

“I bet you’re a lousy cook.”

“Let me cook for you, and we’ll see.”

“What if it’s a flop?”

“Then we stick to handjobs in parking lots.” Johnny stated.

“I’m not doing this in your backseat again.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Johnny stared down at Simon, smile slowly growing more and more on his face.

“You’re unattractive when you smile.” Simon lied.

“You’re attractive when you cum. I want to see you do it again.”

next chapter?? maybe??

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[thewintersoldierdisaster]

happy monday i’m back at work and already exhausted have a snippet from the shower sex andrei fic im working on 🤷🏼‍♀️

‘Come over, miss you. Need to see you’

The text message comes in late, when you’re already in your loungewear and settling into a planned Netflix binge. Your heart skips a beat when you see it though, the little heart next to Andrei’s name seems to glow in the dim light of your bedroom.

You tap out a reply - ‘Thought you weren’t back from Philly until tomorrow morning?’ - and get a reply before the screen even gets a chance to dim.

‘Left early, please solnyshka, come over’

If you hadn’t actually made your relationship exclusive a few months ago, you’d consider this a booty call. As it is, you won’t be getting to Andrei’s house before midnight, but you haven’t seen him in almost two weeks and you miss him. So you change into a pair of leggings and wriggle your way into a sports bra under the oversized Aerie top before grabbing your purse and car keys.

Andrei’s car is in the driveway and you pull yours in behind it, knowing you’ll have to leave early in the morning to get to class.

You let yourself in with the key he’d given you and toe off your sneakers at the door, making sure they’re on the shoe rack and not in a messy pile.

“Andrei?” You call out for him and drop your purse on the couch, surprised that he’s not waiting for you. Unless, of course, he’s waiting in his bedroom, which isn’t totally out of the realm of possibility.

His suitcase is in his room, neatly placed by the closet door, and you smile to yourself. Andrei’s much tidier than you are and the first time he saw how you left your suitcase still packed for a week after your quick trip, he’d nearly tried unpacking it for you. You’re getting much better at putting everything back in its place.

Andrei’s not in his room, but you can hear the shower running through the partially open bathroom door.

“Drei?” You call his name again, stepping closer to the bathroom and getting hit with a little steam and the scent of his body wash. You knock lightly on the doorframe and poke your head in slightly.

“Join me,” Andrei calls back and you can hear the faint laugh in his voice.

You snort a half-laugh, “finish your shower. I’ll be hanging out in your room.”

“No, no,” Andrei’s voice floats through the steam. You can make out the shape of him behind the glass, the long line of his legs and his arms moving as he scrubs his body. It’s hard not to be turned on by Andrei and the thought of his body all soaped up and slick is making you wet, thighs pressing together as you lean against the wall. “I missed you.”

The shower door opens slightly and Andrei sticks his head out, hair slicked back and a sly little smile on his face. His cheeks are pink from the heat of the water and it’s adorable.

“I showered hours ago,” you smile, teasing, “I’m ready for bed.”

“Can never be too clean,” Andrei shrugs, half stepping out of the shower, dripping all over the bathmat and giving you a nice view of his wet chest and half-hard cock.

Your lips turn up in a smirk, gaze flickering down to his groin and watching as his cock thickens in front of your eyes. A little giggle bubbles up in your chest and your tone is sly when you tease, “looks like he missed me too.”

Andrei’s answering smile is boyish, adorable but hungry, and he shrugs. One hand drifts down to stroke at his cock lazily and you watch the muscles and tendons in his hand flex as he moves his palm over his shaft, arousal dripping into your panties. He uses the other hand to crook his fingers at you, saying, “don’t make me ask again, solnyshka.”

“Well…” you drag out the word, giggling, hands on the hem of your shirt. “Since you asked so nicely, a second shower couldn’t hurt.”

You cross your arms and pull your shirt over your head, discarding it in a pile on the floor before shimmying out of your leggings.