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jungkoode · 1 month ago

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𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 17

˗ˏˋ reconnecting ˎˊ˗

"Fridays are not always the best day of the week, you can vouch for this one at least. It's Emma's birthday party and you're not sure you two still vibe together or not after all this time. And coming home... you don't expect Jungkook to be awake, especially not with your cold war going on. But he is."

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⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 9,6k

content: begrudgingly gift-shopping, hidden treasures, old vs new friendships, reconnecting, pretty girls and the inability to discern whether it's flirting or polite talk, AM talks, actually listening (thank god, progress!), and vanilla kink striking again because jungkook in this fic has free will and i cannot control him

✧ author's note ✧

WASSSSSUPPPP my peoplessss!!

Okay so here’s Chapter 17—aka the chapter where all of you start collectively projecting your unresolved issues with your high school best friend, your fuckboy roommate, and your local pastel/goth lesbian duo. I say that with love.

Now LISTEN. I keep raising the bar for this story like but honestly?? That’s on YOU. You absolute feral gremlins with your “when’s the next update” comments like I’m a vending machine that dispenses emotional damage. (It’s fine. I thrive under fear and pressure. You’re welcome.)

About this chapter!! So my initial plan was for Nix to buy Jungkook an actual vinyl player… until I did the research and realized those bitches go for 150-300 bucks even secondhand. Be fr. They are NOT in a relationship. This man is her hot emotional disaster roommate who’s been beefing with her for three days and literally slammed a door at her. I would not spend a single euro on that man beyond what is legally required. Fifteen dollars for a John Mayer record? That’s the sweet spot. It says “I hate you but I know what music you like and I think about you when you’re not around and that makes me want to bite drywall.”

Also: if you know that Inside Wants Out is an early acoustic EP that’s kinda slept on but has a few gut-wrenching tracks about vulnerability and romantic ambivalence�� well. Have fun.

Now shut up because I love writing female friendships and this chapter is my offering to the goddesses of sapphic chaos. Yeji and Irya being absolute queens??? We love. But also EMMA. Emma and that awkward tension of do we still fit? Did we ever really know each other or was it just proximity and hormones and being stuck in the same suburban hellscape? That shit is SO REAL. Reuniting with old friends is like a spiritual liminal space and I needed to capture that gnawing weirdness.

AND JIMIN. The eyeliner scene??? I almost CRIED writing it. I had to pause. That man is so soft it makes me want to shove him into a pillow fort and protect him from the world. He’s so good. He sees her, without wanting anything in return. You better analyze it or I’ll strangle every single one of you.

Now. Regarding the very tense bathroom cologne scene. I was actually going to drag the cold war out longer, truly. I had plans. But Jungkook opened his slutty little mouth and said, “No, actually, I’m feral and I’ve been suffering in silence and she smells like sex and nostalgia and I must act.” And what was I supposed to do? Argue? Please. I have 0 narrative agency here. That much is clear.

Also his birthday is coming. So like. I didn’t want to enter that subplot with them still fake-ignoring each other like divorced parents. You’re welcome.

ANYWAY. The next few chapters are slower paced but VERY important. It’s all those little moments where the characters start changing without realizing it. The kind of growth you only see in hindsight. The slow part of the slow burn. But I swear to god I’m obsessed with how it’s turning out and I just want to share it with you and roll around in the angst like a dog in grass.

Okay that’s all. I love you. Go scream in the comments or eat drywall. Or both! <3 Mwah.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Fridays aren't supposed to sneak up on you like a debt collector with something to prove.

Usually, you spend the whole week crawling toward Friday like it's an oasis in the desert of your existence. Monday is hell. Tuesday is hell's waiting room. Wednesday offers a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, the week won't actually kill you. Thursday is its own special brand of torture—so close to freedom you can taste it, but still trapped in the purgatory of obligation.

And then: Friday.

Glorious, beautiful Friday.

Except this one. This one materialized out of nowhere, ambushing you with its presence and the sudden, horrifying realization that you have exactly zero hours to prepare for what's coming.

So here you are, somehow already standing in a flea market that smells like mothballs and questionable life choices, watching Yeji hold up a fishnet... something against her body while Irya coos over crystals that probably came from the dollar store.

"What do you think?" Yeji asks, draping the fishnet monstrosity over her shoulders. "Is it giving 'fashion-forward' or 'I found this in a dumpster'?"

"Definitely dumpster," you mutter, eyes scanning the crowded stalls without really seeing them.

Because your mind? Your mind is elsewhere—specifically on the fact that you still need to find a birthday gift for your insufferable roommate.

Jungkook.

Just thinking his name makes your jaw clench.

It's been three days since your argument, and the apartment has been a cold war zone of pointed silences and aggressive door closing.

He wants to be petty? Fine. You can be petty right back. Twice as petty, even. So you’re not talking to him either.

"Hello?” Yeji waves a hand in front of your face. "You've been staring at that old guy selling taxidermy squirrels for like, two minutes straight. Should I be concerned?"

You blink, refocusing. "What? No. I'm just... looking."

"For what exactly?" Irya appears at your side, a small purple crystal clutched in her palm. "You said you already got Emma's birthday present."

"Just browsing," you lie smoothly. "Flea markets are full of... treasures."

Yeji snorts. "Since when do you care about 'treasures'? Last time I dragged you to a vintage store, you said it smelled like 'dead people's closets.'"

“No I didn’t.”

"Right." Yeji doesn't look convinced, but she's already distracted by a display of chunky silver rings. "I'm gonna check these out. Meet you at the food trucks in twenty?"

You nod, grateful for the chance to browse alone. Not that you have any fucking clue what to get Jungkook. What do you buy for someone whose entire personality seems to be "brooding film student with inexplicably good taste in coffee"?

It is like an abandoned warehouse, this flea market—stalls crammed together in haphazard rows, hipsters and bargain hunters elbowing past each other, haggling over everything from antique doorknobs to hand-knitted beanies that look like they were made by someone's cat…

You wander aimlessly, passing stalls selling vintage cameras (too expensive), artisanal coffee beans (too obvious), and leather-bound journals (too pretentious, even for him).

Nothing feels right.

Not that it matters—it's just a stupid obligation gift. You shouldn't care this much.

But you do. And that's annoying as fuck.

Then, a rickety table stacked with milk crates catches your eye—or rather, the handwritten sign that reads "RECORDS $5-20" in faded Sharpie.

The elderly man behind the table looks like he's been selling vinyl since before your parents were born, his weathered hands carefully flipping through a box as a customer asks about some obscure band.

You wait until they leave, then approach, trying to look like someone who actually knows something about records. The crates are dusty, disorganized, with no apparent system. Just hundreds of albums crammed together like sardines.

"Looking for anything specific?" the old man asks, voice gravelly from what you assume are decades of cigarettes.

"Just browsing," you say, already flipping through the nearest crate.

Most of the covers are faded, corners bent, some with water damage or mysterious stains you'd rather not identify. You recognize maybe one in ten artists—a lot of jazz, classic rock, some folk singers your dad probably listened to in college.

This is stupid. You don't know what you're looking for. Jungkook collects vinyl but doesn't even own a record player. What kind of pretentious bullshit is that? It's like buying books just to display them on a shelf without reading them.

You're about to give up when your fingers pause on a familiar name.

John Mayer.

The album cover is slightly worn at the edges, but otherwise in decent condition.

"Inside Wants Out," it says in simple white letters against the picture of a dude (you guess it’s John) in the background.

You don’t recognize it at all.

But Jungkook listens to him. His vynil collection is basically a shrine to him.

So you ask "how much?", holding up the record.

The old man squints. "Fifteen."

Fifteen bucks. Okay, that’s... actually reasonable. Not so expensive that it seems like you care, but not so cheap that it looks like an afterthought.

Just a casual, "hey, saw this and thought of your weird vinyl collection" kind of gift.

Perfect.

"I'll take it," you say, already digging in your bag for your wallet.

The man slides the record into a paper sleeve, takes your money, and hands you your change with a nod.

Transaction complete. Gift acquired. Problem solved.

You tuck the record under your arm, feeling oddly satisfied despite yourself. It's just a record. Just a stupid birthday gift for your annoying roommate who thinks he knows everything about everyone, including your taste in men.

But as you weave through the crowd toward the food trucks, you can't help but wonder if he'll like it. If his face will do that thing—that brief, unguarded thing where his eyes light up before he remembers he's supposed to be all cool and detached.

Not that you care. You're just fulfilling a social obligation. That's all.

That's absolutely all.

"Did you actually buy something?" Yeji asks when you reach her, eyeing the record under your arm. "Since when are you into vinyl?"

"Just decoration. For the vinyl wall.”

Irya peers at it. "John Mayer? Isn't he like, your dad's music?"

"He's not that old," you find yourself saying, then immediately wonder why you're defending John fucking Mayer of all people. "And anyway, it was cheap."

"Whatever you say." Yeji shrugs, then holds up a small paper bag. "I got those earrings we saw last week. The ones that look like little daggers."

"Nice," you nod, grateful for the subject change. "I'm starving. Can we get food now?"

As you follow them toward the food trucks, you resist the urge to check the record again, to make sure it's not too scratched or damaged. It doesn't matter. It's just a record. Just a gift.

Just something to cross off your to-do list before Emma's birthday tonight and Jungkook's surprise dinner tomorrow.

Nearing the trucks, suddenly everything smells good. Too good. The kind of good that makes decision-making a fucking nightmare.

You slow your steps, scanning the options.

One truck’s got sizzling skewers of grilled meat, charred at the edges, dripping onto soft pita. Another is doing fresh arepas, the scent of melted cheese thick and indulgent in the air. A few feet away, some guy with tattooed knuckles and an unreasonably aggressive beanie is ladling out steaming bowls of Vietnamese pho.

And then there’s the birria taco stand—because of course there is—and the line is criminally long, people clutching Styrofoam trays of consommé like their lives depend on it.

Your stomach rumbles.

By the time you settle on something—one of those ridiculous but beautiful smash burgers, glossy brioche bun soaking up all that greasy, caramelized goodness—you barely get your wallet out before Yeji hip-checks you out of the way.

“I pay, I pay, I pay,” she announces, tapping her phone against the card reader with swift finality.

You blink. “Okay, what?”

Yeji grins, entirely too pleased with herself. “Well, I’m obviously paying for my beautiful girlfriend, and I kinda figured I’d put you in the package deal.”

You snort, giving her a shove. “Fine. But beers later on me.”

“Deal,” she says easily, tossing the receipt onto the counter like a Wall Street exec closing a million-dollar deal.

Irya latches onto your arm, steering you out of the way so Yeji can continue flirting with the guy behind the counter—some blue-haired, too-many-rings kind of guy who’s already leaning into it, smirking as Yeji compliments his “artistry” with the grill.

“She’s ridiculous,” you mutter.

Irya hums, but there’s amusement in her eyes as she grabs your food, balancing her own order on top of yours. “Just my type of ridiculous.”

You shake your head, leading the way toward a set of old picnic tables at the edge of the food truck lot. The wood is worn, graffiti-scratched and dented from years of use, but it’s clean enough. You drop into a seat, setting your tray down, and Irya follows, sliding in across from you.

She sets her elbow on the table, chin resting lightly in her palm, and smiles. A lock of blonde hair falls loose, catching the light, and she tucks it back behind her ear absently.

“So, Emma’s birthday tonight?”

You unwrap your burger, glancing up at her. “Yeah.”

She studies you for a second, eyes warm. “Excited?”

You hesitate.

“Yeah,” you say again, but it comes out different this time. Not untrue, exactly, but not as sure as it should be.

Irya notices. Tilts her head slightly, patient, the corners of her mouth tugging into something knowing.

“You don’t have to be.”

A breath of something close to laughter slips out of you.

“I mean, I am excited,” you say, because you are. “It’s just—it’s been a while. We used to be really close in high school, but then, you know… life.”

Irya nods, thumb idly tracing the grain of the table. “She’s in Columbia, right?”

“Yeah. I stayed in-state for a bit before moving here. Different cities, different schools, different everything.” You shrug, picking at the edge of the wax paper lining your tray. “We tried to keep in touch, but it’s not the same when you’re not living through the same things anymore. And then you just… don’t talk as much. And then that becomes normal.”

“And now?”

“Now she’s in the city, and I guess we’re both trying to reconnect.”

“That’s good,” Irya says, and she means it. “It’s nice when people want to find their way back to each other.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, glancing down at your food, pushing a fry through the puddle of ketchup on your tray. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Irya watches you, quiet for a second. Then—

“She’s inviting a lot of people, right?”

You nod, grateful for the slight shift in direction. “Yeah. Told me to bring people, too, so I figured you and Yeji. Maybe Jimin.”

“Jimin would love that.” Irya grins. “He’s been in study-group hell all week. He deserves some fun.”

“You think?” You manage to say whilst chewing on the potato. “I thought I wouldn’t be doing him any favors. Like, he’s the type of person to say yes just out of obligation. And I didn’t want to pressure him into anything.”

Irya makes a soft sound of amusement, propping her chin in her palm. “Nah. If Jimin really didn’t want to go, he’d find a way to say no without actually saying no.”

You pause mid-chew. “What does that mean?”

“It means he’d do that thing where he apologizes like, three different ways in the same sentence, but somehow, you still walk away not totally sure if he said yes or no.”

You snort, swallowing. “Okay, yeah. That sounds about right.”

Irya grins, poking at her fries. “And anyway, he actually likes going out. He just overthinks it first.”

“You say that like you’re sure.”

“I am sure,” she says breezily. “I have classes with him. I watch it happen in real time.”

“Real time?”

“Oh, yeah. Like, someone invites him somewhere, and you can see him start to spiral. Like, ‘Okay, but what if I go and I regret it? But what if I don’t go and I regret that instead? But what if I go, but it’s not fun? But what if I don’t go, and it was fun, and now I’m missing out?’” She mimics his voice, exaggerated and tragic, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, but that is a valid crisis.”

“It is,” Irya agrees, laughing too. “But the point is, once he actually gets there, he has a good time.” She levels you with a look, half teasing, half expectant. “So invite him.”

You sigh, reaching for another fry. “Fine.”

And then—

“I got us free dumplings.”

Yeji appears out of nowhere, sliding into the seat next to Irya and dropping a white takeout box onto the table like she’s just secured a goddamn business deal.

You blink. “How?”

She shrugs, already reaching for a dumpling. “Wouldn’t take my money.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

Irya hums, all faux-innocent. “Didn’t happen to have anything to do with that very long, very intimate conversation you were having with the guy behind the counter, did it?”

Yeji smirks around a bite of dumpling. “I dunno. Did it?”

You snort, shaking your head. “Men and their non-existent gaydars.”

“Right? Kinda sucks when she grabs all their attention,” Irya smiles, reaching for a dumpling of her own.

“Not my fault he was easy to entertain,” Yeji says, looking entirely unbothered. “Anyway, eat. They’re fresh.”

You don’t argue. The dumplings are good—warm, crisp at the edges, the filling rich with just the right balance of spice.

Yeji watches you for a second, chewing thoughtfully. “So what were we talking about?”

“Jimin,” Irya supplies.

Yeji groans. “Ugh. Tragic little academic. Is he still alive?”

Irya nods, popping a dumpling into her mouth. “Barely. But we’re dragging him to Emma’s party tonight, so he might actually remember what fun feels like.”

Yeji quirks an eyebrow, chewing slowly. “Emma?” She flicks a glance at you. “Your other friend? Birthday girl?”

You take a sip of your drink. “Mmhm.”

Yeji hums, tapping her chopsticks against the takeout box. “Bestie competition, then.”

You nearly choke. “Oh my god.”

Irya grins, delighted. “It is kind of serious. High school bestie versus new college besties.”

Yeji tilts her head, considering. “I don’t know, man. Legacy friends have an unfair advantage. History. Nostalgia.”

“Yeah,” Irya sighs, fake mournful. “How can we ever compete with the memories?”

You level them both with a flat look. “You’ve known me for a month.”

Yeji leans back. “It’s been a whole month already? Woah.”

“We’re joking. I’m sure we’ll get along.” Irya adds.

You snort, shaking your head.

Yeji watches you for a second, still smirking, but then the expression shifts—just a little.

“Are you excited?”

The question catches you off guard. Not because it’s unexpected, but because it’s… genuine.

You pause, setting down your cup.

“Yeah,” you say, slower this time. “I mean, I haven’t seen her in a while, so it’ll be—nice. A little weird, maybe. But nice.”

Yeji nods. “You gonna introduce us?”

You blink. “Uh. Yeah?”

Irya arches her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

You groan. “Oh my god, what is that supposed to mean?”

Yeji shrugs, reaching for another dumpling. “I mean, if she’s bestie material, we gotta vet her.”

“Shouldn’t she be the one vetting you two? She’s known me since I had braces and a regrettable side bang phase. Feels like she’s got seniority here.”

Yeji gasps. “Wow. So you’re saying we have no authority in this situation?”

“We really don’t.” Irya muses, almost singsonging.

“I don’t know,” Yeji muses, tapping a finger against her chin. “I feel like we bring some very important qualifications to the table. For example, we met Y/N when she was already in her fully realized, evolved form. We didn’t just settle for her because we grew up in the same town.”

You roll your eyes. “Jesus.”

Yeji nods, completely serious. “Yeah, we got to make an informed choice. Handpicked, if you will.”

“Wow, lucky me.”

Irya grins. “So lucky.”

You shake your head, reaching for another fry. “Just… behave.”

“I always behave,” Yeji says, smirking. “You’re just afraid we’ll be better besties than Emma.”

You scoff. “That’s not even remotely the issue.”

“Then what is the issue?” Irya prompts, head tilting to the side.

You hesitate. Not because you don’t know, but because saying it out loud feels like giving it weight. Giving it power.

You exhale. “It’s just—there’s a difference between keeping in touch and actually knowing someone after years apart. And I guess I don’t know if we still… fit the way we used to.”

That quiets them for a beat.

Yeji tilts her head, watching you with something unreadable in her gaze. Irya rests her chin in her palm again, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips.

“That’s fair,” Irya says, voice softer this time. “It’s weird when people grow in different directions. Sometimes you come back together. Sometimes you don’t.”

You nod, not entirely trusting yourself to speak.

“But hey,” Yeji cuts in, voice as casual as ever, “if she sucks, at least you’ll have us.”

You huff a laugh. “So generous of you.”

She winks. “I know.”

And just like that, the weight on your chest feels a little lighter.

You stare at your reflection, one eye perfectly winged, the other a smudged disaster—like your life, really: half put together, half absolute chaos.

You lean closer to the mirror, squinting at your uneven eyeliner with the kind of intense focus that FBI agents would reserve for defusing bombs or something. You've been at this for twenty minutes now, and your right eye is starting to look like it's been drawn by a five-year-old with a crayon during an earthquake.

"Fuck," you mutter, reaching for a cotton swab.

Third time's the charm, right?

Or maybe fifth.

You've lost count.

From the living room, Griffin's thunderous purr competes with Yeji's animated voice. She's been trying to convince Yoongi to produce some track for her for the past fifteen minutes, her persistence almost admirable if it weren't so clearly futile. Yoongi's monotone responses barely register over the distance, but you can picture his expression—bored, unbothered, probably wanting to kill himself before engaging.

"Orange cats are literally the basic bitches of the cat world," Yeji declares loudly enough for you to hear. "Black cats have personality. They have depth. They're mysterious."

"Tell that to Griffin," Irya responds, her voice warm and amused. "He seems pretty content being basic on your lap right now."

"That's cats for you," Yeji sighs dramatically. "The least person who wants them is the one who gets them."

You smile despite your eyeliner frustration. Because it’s ironic—Yeji, who swears black cats are superior, is now trapped under Griffin's substantial orange weight.

That's karma, feline edition.

You’re wearing a dress to the gathering—the same one from that night in January. You've worn it exactly once since buying it, and now it's making its second appearance.

It's not like you planned it this way. It just happened to be the perfect outfit for Emma's birthday dinner.

(At least that's what you tell yourself as you deliberately avoid examining your motives too closely.)

Emma. Your high school friend. Your only real connection to your life before college.

Before this apartment.

Before Jungkook.

You haven't seen her in months (since that night in January), and there's a strange anxiety bubbling in your stomach that has nothing to do with your makeup struggles.

You did vibe back then. But… was it a ‘we vibe because we are going out’ situation; or was it because you two actually connected?

People change. You've changed. The question hanging in the air is whether you've changed in compatible ways.

At least you won't be alone tonight. Emma said you could bring friends, so naturally, you are bringing them along.

You dab at your eyeliner again, smudging it further. Great. Now you look like you've been punched. Or crying. Or both.

A soft knock on the door interrupts your silent self-criticism.

"Come in," you call, not bothering to hide your frustration. It's not like anyone in this apartment hasn't seen you in various states of disaster before.

The door creaks open, and Jimin's face appears in the gap, his expression shifting from curious to sympathetic as he takes in your makeup situation.

"Having trouble?" he asks, stepping into the small bathroom.

The space immediately feels warmer with him in it. Jimin has that effect—like a human comfort blanket.

"What gave it away?" you deadpan, gesturing to your face. "The fact that I look like I let a toddler do my makeup, or the fact that I've been in here for half an hour?"

He laughs softly, the sound gentle and reassuring. "It's not that bad."

"Liar."

"Okay, it's a little uneven," he admits, moving closer to examine your handiwork. His eyes narrow slightly as he studies your face with unexpected intensity. "Let me."

Before you can respond, he's taking the eyeliner from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours in a brief moment of warmth.

"You know how to do this?" you ask, surprised.

"I have sisters," he says simply, which doesn't really answer your question, but you don't push it. "Close your eye," he instructs, his voice soft but confident.

You comply, feeling the gentle pressure of his hand steadying your face. His touch is light, precise—and you can’t help but feel this is some sort of significant moment.

"Stay still," he murmurs, and you can sense the smile forming on his lips.

The eyeliner glides across your lid with surprising smoothness. One stroke, then another. No hesitation in his movement. You're impressed and a little confused by his skill, but mostly grateful.

"Where did you learn to—"

"Shh," he interrupts. "No talking or I'll mess up."

You fall silent, letting him work. There's something about Jimin that's always made you curious. He's like a book with half the pages glued together—what you can read is beautiful, but you sense there's more to the story.

"Done," he announces after a moment, stepping back to admire his work. "Take a look."

You turn to the mirror and blink in surprise. The wing is perfect—sharp enough to kill a man, as Yeji herself would say. It matches the other eye exactly, creating a symmetry you couldn't achieve on your own.

"Jimin, this is..." you trail off, turning to face him. "How are you so good at this?"

He shrugs, a small, almost shy grin playing at his lips. "I just have a steady hand, I guess."

There's more to it than that—you can tell by the way he avoids your eyes, the slight flush creeping up his neck. But something tells you not to press further.

Everyone has their secrets.

Private pieces they're not ready to share.

You, of all people, know that.

"Well, whatever the reason, thank you," you say sincerely. "You just saved me from looking like a hot mess at Emma's birthday."

"Happy to help," he replies, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "You look beautiful."

The compliment is simple, genuine, without the weight of expectation or desire that usually accompanies such words from men.

It's refreshing. Because you feel like Jimin sees you—really sees you—without wanting anything in return.

"We should probably get going soon," he says, glancing at his watch. "Yeji's been threatening to leave without us for the past ten minutes."

"As if she would," you scoff, reaching for your lipstick. "She's too excited about meeting Emma and judging her worthiness."

Jimin laughs. "True. Though I think she's more excited about the free food."

"Priorities," you agree with a smile.

You apply your lipstick—a muted berry shade that complements your eyeshadow without being too dramatic. The final touch to your appearance. Not too casual, not too glamorous. Perfect for a birthday dinner.

You've always loved makeup, the ritual of it, the transformation.

Not because you're trying to hide or become someone else, but because it's an extension of yourself—another form of expression.

You're so tired of those cliché "not like other girls" characters in movies and books who supposedly wear nothing but mascara yet somehow have flawless skin and perfect brows.

As if enjoying makeup somehow makes you shallow or less authentic.

The truth is, most girls you know love makeup to some degree. Some for the artistry, some for the confidence boost, some just because it's fun. And you're no different.

That doesn't make you basic or vain—it makes you human.

A human who happens to enjoy the satisfying swipe of a good lipstick.

"Ready?" Jimin asks, holding the door open for you.

You take one last look at your reflection. The girl staring back looks put together, confident.

Whether she actually feels that way is another story entirely, but hey—fake it till you make it, right?

"Ready," you confirm.

You're halfway out the door when you pause.

Something's missing. The final touch.

"Oh, wait. Cologne."

Jimin nods understandingly, already retreating toward the living room. "Don't take too long or Yeji might actually follow through on her threats this time."

You turn back to the bathroom counter, sliding open the narrow drawer where your collection lives. Four different bottles stare back at you, each with its own personality, its own statement. Your fingers hover over them, indecisive, until they land on one particular bottle.

Amber, its color.

The golden liquid catches the bathroom light, glowing like trapped sunlight inside the crystal bottle.

You haven't used it since... well, since that night in January. You've been saving it for special occasions, though what constitutes "special" has remained conveniently undefined.

You lift the bottle, turning it in your hand. You apply it to your wrists, your neck, your ears. And before you can overthink it, you bring it to your nose, inhaling lightly.

Memories unfurl instantly, blooming in your mind like clouds puffing up in a winter sky. They tumble through your consciousness, overwhelming and vivid, making it hard to breathe—though you're not entirely sure you want to.

His hands on your hips, fingers pressing into your skin with just enough pressure to leave phantom marks that lingered for days afterward.

His slicked chin when he smiled up at you from between your thighs, all smug and proud for making you cum with his tongue.

His infuriating, satisfied smirk that somehow annoyed you, but also turned you on.

Rosy cheeks and disheveled hair, soft eyes in the aftermath.

You distinctly remember that was the first time you had thought Jungkook looked cute. Not just hot or sexy, but genuinely cute in a way that had caught you off guard.

And you didn't even know his name then.

The door swings open without warning.

You nearly drop the bottle, fumbling to catch it before it shatters against the tile floor. Your heart leaps into your throat as you look up, startled.

Jungkook peers inside, and you both freeze, staring at each other like you don’t know which one of you should stay and which one of you should leave. His eyes flick from your face to the bottle in your hand, recognition dawning in his expression.

A long pause.

Your eyes drift down his torso, inevitably.

He's wearing a black t-shirt that hugs his frame in all the right places, hair rumpled and messy. His rainy-like scent envelops the cramped space, mingling with the lingering notes of vanilla on your wrist like they’ve always belonged together.

His eyes drift too. Drop lower, taking in the dress hugging your curves, fingers tightening on the doorframe, knuckles whitening with the pressure.

You watch the subtle movement, the physical manifestation of restraint, and feel an answering tightness in your chest.

You haven't spoken since Tuesday. Since the fight about Jason. Since he suddenly starting talking about vibes like he’s the type of guy to trust his gut.

And maybe he is.

And maybe you aren’t.

"Sorry," he says finally, breaking the silence. "Didn't know you were in here."

He avoids your gaze.

You don’t know if that makes you angry or anxious. It’s hard to determine what’s crippling your chest.

"It's fine. I was just leaving."

Neither of you moves.

His eyes drift to the cologne bottle again. Recognition, desire, frustration.

Then, he masks it.

But you caught it.

He remembers the fragrance.

And how could he not? When he constantly praised it that night, how it rested on your skin, how good it made you smell, how fucking good you tasted.

"Going somewhere?" he asks then, interrupting your conflicting thoughts.

"Emma's birthday dinner," you reply, voice tight.

He nods slowly, gaze returning to the dress. The dress from that night. The dress he peeled off you with those same hands now gripping the doorframe like it's the only thing keeping him anchored.

You should move. You should cap the cologne, put it away, walk past him and join your friends who are waiting. You should maintain the cold war you've established since your fight.

Instead, you find yourself asking, "Did you need something?"

He purses his lips. "Just needed to pee.”

"Right," you say. "I'll get out of your way."

You cap the cologne, and you just know his eyes are tracking your every motion. Because that’s Jungkook for you—when he’s focused on something, it’s obvious.

You move toward the door—toward him—and it’s like suddenly, the small bathroom feels impossibly smaller. Like there’s not enough space for both of you and all the unspoken words crowding the air.

You'll have to squeeze past him. There's no way to avoid it.

His grip on the doorframe tightens further, as if he's holding himself back. From what, you're not entirely sure. Touching you? Yelling at you? Both seem equally possible.

"Excuse me," you murmur.

He steps back marginally, not enough to clear the path completely.

Like he’s hesitating.

Like he doesn’t know whether he wants to move for real, or stay rooted in place.

“Jungkook,” you say, and his name feels strange on your tongue after days of not speaking it. “Move.”

“You smell like that night,” he settles for staying instead of moving, voice dropping lower, annoyed. “You know that, right? You’re going to smell exactly like you did when I had you against that wall.”

Your breath catches. Heat blooms across your chest, up your neck.

“That’s not—” you start, but the lie dies on your lips.

Because it is. Of course it is. You knew exactly what you were doing when you reached for that bottle.

You see his jaw work. His tongue peek against the inside of his cheek. His eyes lock into yours like he wants to say something else.

But he doesn’t.

“Have fun at your dinner,” is all he comes up with, stepping aside.

The movement feels like it costs him something.

You move past him. Take a deep breath, pushing thoughts of Jungkook aside.

Tonight isn’t about him. It’s about Emma, about reconnecting with a part of your life that existed before this apartment, before him.

But as you step into the living room, you can still feel the weight of his gaze on your back, can still smell the amber scent on your skin, can still hear his voice in your ear.

You know that, right? You’re going to smell exactly like you did when I had you against that wall.

And the worst part is, you don’t know why or how—but maybe that’s exactly what you wanted.

The restaurant is too loud, too crowded, too New York—but Emma’s hug is warm, and that makes up for it.

“Finally.” She squeezes you tight, like she’s trying to merge your atoms together. “You took forever.”

Yeji, behind you, snorts. “Blame her eyeliner existential crisis.”

Emma pulls back, eyebrows raised. “Oh? We still doing that?”

“We are always doing that,” you deadpan.

She laughs—her laugh. It’s the same as it was in high school, loud and full, like she actually enjoys things instead of just tolerating them. That hasn’t changed. Neither has the way she looks at you, eyes scanning your face, taking you in like she’s checking if you’re still the same person too.

The answer? You don’t know.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you guys,” she says, looping an arm through yours.

You let yourself be pulled in—into the restaurant, into her world, into the crowd of fifteen fucking people all squeezed around a too-small table in the back corner. She moves through the chaos easily, hand on your wrist, steering you like she used to when you were seventeen and invincible.

“This is Yeji, Irya, and Jimin,” you say as you go, pointing them out like exhibits in a museum.

Emma grins at them, all effortless charm. “Your uni friends. I’ve heard so much.”

Jimin, ever polite, smiles back. “All good things, I hope.”

Emma does not confirm or deny, which says enough.

There’s a blur of names you won’t remember—Emma’s friends, classmates, people who probably have their lives together in a way you do not. Someone pulls her into another conversation, and you hover awkwardly at the edge of the group, watching her slip back into a world that isn’t yours.

It’s strange.

You used to know everything about her. Every inside joke, every dream, every late-night insecurity whispered over FaceTime.

But now—now you’re an observer.

A guest.

Still, when she sits, she grabs your wrist again and tugs you down next to her.

“So,” she starts, picking up her glass—red wine, something deep and rich. “Are you finally admitting that I was right, or are we still in the denial phase?”

You blink, thrown. “About what?”

She gives you a look. “Do I have to spell it out?”

Your stomach knots.

Jungkook. She means Jungkook.

You exhale through your nose, reaching for your water instead. “We are so not doing this here.”

Emma grins, but she lets it go—for now.

Instead, she leans back. “God, I forgot how exhausting socializing is. I swear, law school is turning me into one of those people who can only function in coffee shops and libraries.”

You snort. “You were already that person in high school.”

“True,” she concedes, tilting her glass toward you. “But now it’s worse. Now I actually enjoy tax law. Like, genuinely. It’s fascinating.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I refuse to believe that.”

“Swear on my life,” she says, amused. “You should see me in my internship. I get excited about deductions. I have a favorite tax loophole.”

“That’s disgusting.”

Emma just grins. “Give it time. One day, you’ll come to me, desperate for tax advice, and I’ll be your only hope. And I will lord it over you.”

“You wish.”

“Oh, I know.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the way your lips twitch. It’s easy, falling into conversation with Emma. Easier than you thought it would be, considering how much has changed since high school.

“So, what’s the plan then?” you ask, nudging your knee against hers under the table. “You still set on Seattle after graduation?”

Emma hesitates. Not in a bad way—more like she’s holding onto something, waiting for the right moment.

“Actually,” she says, twirling the stem of her glass between her fingers. “I’ve been thinking about Europe.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Europe?”

“Yeah.” She leans forward slightly, eyes lighting up. “I did a summer program there—France, Italy, Greece, Spain. It was insane. I loved it. I don’t know, I just—” She exhales, shaking her head like she can’t quite put it into words. “Seattle was always the safe plan, you know? The practical one. But now? I keep thinking about the Mediterranean coast. The markets, the people. It feels like people there work to live, not live to work like they do here in America.”

You watch her carefully. Emma has always been a planner, a strategist. She doesn’t make decisions lightly.

And yet—she looks alive talking about this.

“So, what?” you ask. “You’re gonna become a tax attorney in Greece? Help rich expats avoid paying their fair share?”

Emma snorts. “God, no. If I go, I’d probably work with international firms, corporate law, maybe even consulting. It’s different over there, you know? Taxes, policies, loopholes—everything shifts depending on the country, the treaties in place.”

“You realize you sound even worse now, right?”

“Shut up,” she laughs. “At least I’m passionate about something.”

You hum, thoughtful. “So, Europe.”

“Maybe,” she says. “Nothing’s set in stone yet.”

But you can tell, just from the way she says it, that it’s more than a maybe.

It’s funny. The last time you saw her, she was talking about Seattle like it was inevitable. Now she’s talking about the Mediterranean coast with the kind of quiet certainty that makes you think she’s already half there.

People change.

You’ve changed.

And yet, it feels like nothing between you two has changed at all.

Emma eyes you for a long moment, then smirks.

“Your turn.”

You blink. “What?”

“You’ve barely told me anything about your life,” she says. “How’s English? Still planning on breaking the hearts of young, impressionable students as a professor?”

“First of all, no. That is not the plan. And second—”

“You can’t tell me you don’t look the part,” she teases. “The eyeliner? The whole vibe? You’d have students falling in love with you instantly.”

“I hate you.”

She grins. “I missed you too.”

You feel it, then—the warmth of familiarity, of friendship. It settles in your chest, light and unburdened, and for the first time in a while, you think:

This is nice.

Even with the changes, even with the time apart, even with the half-truths lingering at the back of your throat—this is still Emma.

“Come on,” Emma nudges your arm, eyes gleaming. “Let me introduce you to my favorite tax nerds.”

You groan, but let her pull you toward the other end of the table. “If I die of boredom, I’m haunting you.”

“They’re fun,” she insists, dodging between chairs and half-full wine glasses. “For tax people, anyway.”

The group is mid-conversation when you arrive—something about offshore accounts, corporate loopholes, and why the ultra-wealthy pay less in taxes than you probably spend on coffee each year. (Fascinating.) Chris and Max, two guys who both look like they were born wearing pressed button-ups, are deep in debate, hands gesturing, voices overlapping.

But the girl sitting across from you—Nina—just listens, quiet, observant.

She clocks you the moment you sit down. And you clock her right back.

Dark brown skin, black curls tucked behind one ear, a delicate gold necklace resting just above the collar of an oversized sweater. The sleeves are pushed up to reveal slender wrists, and she has the kind of presence that doesn’t need to fill space to be felt.

There’s something measured about her. Something thoughtful. Like she only speaks when there’s something worth saying.

She’s pretty.

Really pretty.

But it’s more than that. She’s composed in a way that makes you hyperaware of yourself—your posture, the way you’re holding your drink, the way she looks at you with a quiet, unreadable expression.

“Hi,” she says, voice smooth, accent lilting ever so slightly.

It’s just that—simple. Friendly. Maybe.

You clear your throat. “Hey.”

Emma gestures between you. “Nina, this is my friend from high school—the one I told you about?”

Nina hums like she remembers, tilting her head. “The one who thinks tax law is boring?”

You blink. “Emma told you that?”

“She warned me in advance,” Nina says, lips twitching. “Said you might try to stage an intervention.”

You shoot Emma a look, but she’s already sipping her wine, unbothered.

“Well,” you say, turning back to Nina, “I was going to be polite about it, but now I feel like I have a responsibility.”

That gets a small smile out of her. Just a slight curve of the lips, like she’s amused but won’t give you the satisfaction of knowing just how much.

You don’t know why that makes you want to push, just a little.

“So,” you continue, tilting your head, “what is it, then? The thing about tax law that actually doesn’t put you to sleep?”

Nina considers this. Takes a slow sip of her drink. And when she speaks, it’s not rushed—it’s careful.

“It’s not about the numbers,” she says, setting her glass down. “Not really. It’s about human nature. About how people behave when they think no one is watching. Governments set up incentives, and people react accordingly. It’s a game of strategy. A reflection of what a society actually values, not just what it claims to.”

You weren’t expecting that answer.

Your fingers tighten slightly around your glass. “So, what—you think taxes are, like, a moral compass?”

Nina shrugs. “Not a moral compass. But they show you what people are willing to bend the rules for. What they think is worth cheating for. And that’s… interesting, I think.”

You watch her, trying to get a read on her. She’s got this almost effortless kind of intrigue—the kind of person who could make anything sound poetic if she wanted to.

Emma groans. “Oh god, don’t encourage her. She’ll start talking about capital gains tax next.”

Nina lifts a brow. “It’s actually fascinating, if you—”

“Absolutely not,” Emma interrupts. “Nope. I refuse.”

You smirk. “I don’t know, Em. I kind of want to hear her out.”

Emma glares at you. “Do not encourage the tax philosophy.”

But Nina is looking at you again. Not in a dramatic way. Not in a way that screams I’m interested. But in a way that’s… present. Attentive. Like she actually finds this conversation worth having.

And maybe that means nothing.

Or maybe it does.

You’re not sure.

Which—God, why is this always harder with girls?

With guys, it’s obvious. But with girls—well. You think she’s enjoying this. But is she just enjoying it, or is there something else there? Is this just conversation, or is it something that, in hindsight, will feel like a moment?

You have no fucking idea.

The conversation shifts after that—Emma talks about her summer in Europe, Chris and Max start debating New York’s best pizza, someone brings up an upcoming bar crawl.

And then, at some point, Nina glances at her phone before looking at you again.

“You mind if I get your number?” she asks.

Casual. Easy. Nothing in her tone suggests it’s anything more than that.

“Emma talks about you a lot,” she adds, mouth twitching slightly. “I feel like I should probably fact-check at least half of it.”

Emma swats at her, but you barely register it, already pulling your phone out.

You’re not reading into it. You’re not.

But also—

You kind of are.

Still, you hand your phone over, watch as Nina types in her number, then passes it back. Just a name in your contacts now. Simple. Unassuming.

You have no idea if you just made a new friend or if this is something else.

And honestly?

You kind of like not knowing.

“Well, well, well,” Yeji drawls, sliding into the conversation without invitation. “Are we allowed to sit, or is this a tax-exclusive gathering?”

You exhale. “Jesus, Yeji.”

“What? We were getting bored.” She drops into the seat beside you, tossing an arm over Irya’s chair. “Jimin’s been overanalyzing the condensation on his glass for the past fifteen minutes, and Irya’s just been smiling at people like a lost pageant contestant.”

“I was being friendly,” Irya corrects, unfazed.

“You were being too friendly.”

“Networking,” Irya insists, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I love people.”

“You do,” Emma says, delighted. “It’s terrifying.”

Irya beams, pleased. Yeji just sighs like she’s accepted her fate.

Nina watches all of this unfold with quiet amusement, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “You two are together?”

Yeji tilts her head. “That a problem?”

Nina meets her gaze evenly. “No. It’s nice.”

It’s a simple statement, but it rings genuine, like she’s not just saying it to be polite. Yeji studies her for a second longer before nodding, satisfied, and pulling Irya in to kiss her temple.

Emma turns to you, grinning. “Your friends are so much more fun than my law ones.”

You smirk. “That’s because they have souls.”

Chris, still lingering in the tax-law-heavy end of the table, lifts a hand in protest. “Hey.”

Yeji ignores him completely, waving to Nina instead. “So, you’re a tax philosopher?”

Nina looks faintly amused but nods. “That’s what they tell me.”

“Cool, cool,” Yeji muses, reaching for Irya’s wine and taking a sip before Irya can protest. “And do you also believe that money isn’t real?”

Nina tilts her head slightly, considering. “I think it’s real in the sense that it determines the way the world functions. But I also think it’s one of the biggest shared delusions humanity has ever committed to.”

Yeji brightens. “See? This is the tax conversation I want to be having.”

You roll your eyes, but Nina takes it in stride. She’s good at this, you notice—letting conversations unfold naturally, never forcing her presence but never fading into the background either.

Across from you, Jimin has settled into his usual quiet observation, sipping his drink slowly. He’s not uncomfortable, just taking it all in. He catches your eye at one point, a small look that says ‘you good?’

You nod, barely perceptible.

He doesn’t push. Just gives a small nod back and turns his attention back to the conversation. Just listening in.

Emma leans in slightly, nudging your arm. “I like them,” she murmurs.

You glance at her, raising a brow. “Yeah?”

She hums. “They make you lighter.”

It’s such an Emma thing to say—blunt in a way that doesn’t feel invasive, just observant.

You don’t respond right away, but you don’t need to.

She’s already grinning like she knows the answer.

The apartment is quiet when you finally get home, the only light coming from the TV screen where some game is paused.

Jungkook is sprawled on the couch, controller resting loosely in his hands, looking like he's been there for hours. He glances up when the door closes behind you, expression neutral.

"It's late," he says, not quite a question.

You drop your keys in the bowl by the door. "Yeah."

"Had fun?" He unpauses the game, thumbs moving lazily over the controller buttons. His character on screen walks aimlessly into a wall.

"Yeah," you say, kicking off your heels with a sigh of relief. "Emma's friends are cool. We ended up at this bar in Brooklyn after dinner."

He makes a noncommittal sound, still not looking at you.

"Jason wasn't there, though, so don't worry," you add, unable to help yourself.

That gets his attention. His thumbs still, and he scoffs, a short, sharp sound in the quiet apartment.

“You know I don't give a fuck about that guy, right?"

"Really?" You raise an eyebrow, heading to the kitchen for water. "Because you seemed to have very strong opinions about him on Tuesday."

The controller drops onto the couch as he turns to face you fully.

“Look," he says, voice tight with frustration. "I don't give a fuck who you fuck or who you date. Seriously. Not my business."

"Yup. Three rules," you start, unscrewing the cap on your water bottle.

"One, no one knows," he recites, cutting you off.

"Two, if somebody asks, we're just roommates," you continue.

"And three," he interrupts again, more forcefully, "no feelings. I know the fucking rules, Phoenix. I helped make them."

You take a long drink of water, studying him over the bottle. His hair is messy in a stupid endearing way, and there are shadows under his eyes.

"So what was Tuesday about, then?" you ask finally.

He exhales slowly, jaw working. "I told you. The guy gives me bad vibes."

"Bad vibes," you repeat flatly.

"Yeah. Bad fucking vibes." He rubs a hand over his face. "Look, I know how it sounded, okay? But it's not—" He stops, frustrated. "It's not about you. Or us. Or whatever the fuck we're doing."

You consider him for a moment, then set your water bottle down and cross to the couch, sitting on the opposite end.

"Explain."

"What?"

"Explain these 'bad vibes.' Because from where I was sitting, it sounded irrational."

"It's not—" He stops again, shaking his head. "You know what? Forget it. Not my problem."

"Jungkook."

He looks at you, surprised by the use of his actual name.

"I'm trying to understand," you say, softer than you intended. "So explain it to me."

He studies you for a long moment, like he's trying to decide if you're serious.

Finally, he sighs. "He's fake."

"Fake how?"

"The way he talks. The way he looks at you when you're not watching. The way he touched your arm in the car." His words come faster now. "The way he asked about your schedule, your classes. The way he positioned himself between us. It's all... calculated."

You frown. "That's a lot to read into a few interactions."

"I know what I saw," he insists. "Guys like that... they start small. Compliments. Attention. Making you feel special. Then it's suggestions about what you should wear. Who you should hang out with. What classes you should take."

His tone is raw, really raw, and you realize it’s the first time you’ve heard him talk like this.

Like it’s personal.

“You're saying he's controlling."

"I'm saying he could be." He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up further. "Look, I've seen it before, okay? People who seem perfect on the surface but underneath they're just... manipulative. They make you think everything's your idea when really they're pulling all the strings."

You're quiet for a moment, processing.

"This isn't just about Jason, is it?"

His eyes flick to yours, then away.

"I told you. It's not about you or us."

"But it is about someone."

He doesn't answer, but his silence is confirmation enough.

"Mia?" you ask softly.

"I don't want to talk about her."

"Okay," you say, respecting the boundary even as curiosity burns through you. "But that's why you're worried about Jason? Because he reminds you of her?"

"Not of her specifically," he says after a pause. "Just... the type. The signs."

You pull your legs up onto the couch, turning to face him fully. "What signs?"

He looks at you for a long moment, like he's deciding how much to share.

"The perfect act," he says finally. "The way everything seems rehearsed. The charm that never quite reaches their eyes." His voice drops lower. "The way they make you feel like you're the only person in the room, but it's not because they care about you. It's because they want something from you."

"And you think that's Jason?"

"I don't know," he admits. "Maybe I'm seeing things that aren't there. But my gut says something's off with him."

You consider this. "Your gut's been wrong before."

A bitter smile twists his lips. "Yeah. More than once."

Silence stretches between you, but it’s not the uncomfortable kind. It’s like you’re both still processing the words exchanged.

"I'm still going on the date," you say finally.

He nods, looking away. "I know."

"But I'll... keep what you said in mind. Watch for the signs."

He glances back at you, surprise flickering across his face.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You shrug, trying to keep it casual. "Contrary to what you might think, I don't actually enjoy being manipulated."

"Could've fooled me," he mutters, but there's no real heat behind it.

You kick his thigh lightly with your foot. "Asshole."

The corner of his mouth twitches upward. "Brat."

Silence again. His forearms are resting on his knees, hands crossed together as his gaze remains unfocused.

"So," he says eventually, "how was the birthday girl?"

You're surprised by the question, by his apparent interest in your life outside this apartment.

"Good," you say. "Different, but good. She's in Economics. Has a serious boyfriend. Wears a lot of beige."

"Sounds thrilling."

You laugh despite yourself. "It was actually nice. Weird, but nice. Like visiting a place you used to live but don't anymore."

He nods, understanding in his eyes. "Did your new friends play nice with your old friend?"

"Yeji, Irya and Jimin?" You smile at the memory. "They were on their best behavior. Well, Yeji's version of best behavior, which means she only made three inappropriate jokes and only drank half the table's wine."

He snorts. "Sounds about right."

"Emma liked them, though. I think." You pause, considering. "It's strange, bringing different parts of your life together."

"I bet it is," he agrees quietly.

You look at him, really look at him, sitting there in the dim light of the TV. For once, there's no smirk on his face, no challenge in his eyes. Just Jungkook, tired and rumpled and unexpectedly honest.

"Why were you still up?" you ask suddenly.

The question catches him off guard. "What?"

"It's 3 AM. Why are you still awake?"

He shrugs, defensive again. "Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd play for a bit."

You glance at the TV screen where his character has been standing in the same spot for the past ten minutes.

"Right."

"What?" he demands.

"Nothing," you say, but you can't help the small smile that forms. "Just... nothing."

He narrows his eyes at you, but doesn't press.

"I should get to bed," you say, standing up. "It's late."

He nods, picking up the controller again. "Yeah."

You're halfway to your room when his voice stops you.

"Phoenix?"

You turn back. "Yeah?"

He’s staring at you, but it’s not the usual smirk. No.

His eyes flick downward. To the floor, like he’s seriously considering his next words—or rather, if he should vocalize them at all.

But then he looks up at you again, seemingly decided.

"You..." he starts, licking his lips like he’s trying to pull himself together. But he’s failing. "You know you smell fucking delicious, right? Like, it’s so fucking unfair."

Your pulse stutters. "Excuse me?"

"The cologne," he says, standing up. "You’ve been driving me insane the whole night. The whole apartment smells like you.”

You blink at him, caught somewhere between disbelief and something hotter, heavier. "I didn’t wear it for you."

"No?” His lips twitch, almost a smile but not quite—like he knows exactly how full of shit you are. "The cologne from that night. The dress from that night. And I’m supposed to believe that’s just a coincidence?"

"It is," you snap back, defensive even as your pulse betrays you by speeding up.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing—or maybe just like he can’t believe you.

“Fuck, Phoenix," he mutters, voice dropping into something rougher, more dangerous. "Do you have any idea how good you smell? How much I’ve been thinking about getting my mouth on you again?"

Your breath catches somewhere in your throat—an audible hitch that makes his eyes darken further.

"We’re fighting," you remind him weakly.

"Are we?" He steps closer, until there’s barely a whisper of space between you. "Because right now all I can think about is how wet you were for me the first time I smelled that shit on your skin."

You retreat physically; even though mentally you’re honestly already naked for him.

"Four days," he muses, tone dripping with frustration, almost needy. "Four days of smelling your shampoo in the bathroom, that stupid body lotion, and now—now you pull this shit. That’s fucking cruel, Nix.”

"You could’ve apologized," you point out dryly.

"For what?" He scoffs like the idea itself is offensive. "For telling the truth? For saying Jason gives me bad vibes?"

"There it is again," you say, crossing your arms over your chest like it’ll protect you from whatever energy he’s radiating right now.

It doesn’t.

He exhales softly, eyes flicking to your lips before moving back up.

“I’m being for real, Phoenix. Your vanilla shit drives me nuts,” he confesses bluntly.

Then llicks his lips, considering what he’s about to say

But says it anyways.

“I jerked off after you left.”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air.

"Couldn’t help it," he continues. “The smell of your cologne... seeing you in that dress again... I couldn’t get the image out of my head."

"What image?"

"The first time," he says slowly, like he wants every word to sink into your skin and stay there forever. "In that room. The way you tasted... the sounds you made when I had my tongue inside you."

Your legs threaten mutiny.

"And now?" You force yourself to ask because silence feels dangerous—like it might give him permission to keep going without restraint.

"Now?" He repeats, almost hushed. "Now, I’m… really craving vanilla.”

You should walk away—should turn around and retreat into your room where things are safe and quiet and not vibrating with tension so thick it feels alive—but instead?

Instead, your feet betray you by staying planted firmly in place: "Eat some cookies.”

“I want to eat something else.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

He purses his lips. Tongue drops to lick the lower one. Gaze flickers to your mouth again before they come back to your pupils.

“You don’t?”

And the way he exhales it, like the mere idea of you saying no pains him—it melts through you.

Especially when his hand finally finds its way to your waist (warm and solid and grounding despite everything else about this moment feeling anything but grounded).

All thoughts of resistance evaporate faster than they came.

"I do," you hear yourself reply.

And when his lips brush against the sensitive skin just below your jawline?

You realize two things simultaneously:

One: You were never going to walk away from this moment no matter how much logic tried to intervene earlier.

Two: Logic doesn’t stand a chance against lust when Jungkook looks at you like this.

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jillsandwhichs · 4 months ago

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Midnight

Chapter 8 to Joel Miller x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist ★ Midnight (Part Two)

Pairing: F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You are studying at your friend Sarah's house and you get to meet her dad, Joel Miller. Later that evening, Sarah heads to bed and you crash on her couch, continuing to study. However, that studying is soon interrupted when Mr. Miller decides to strike up a convo with you—one that turns into something much more

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Acquainted/Hookup

WC: 4.8k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Age gap, Making out, Dirty talk, Breast play, Protected P in V, Riding, Spanking, Minor Dom!Joel, Degradation kink (Not too major but it is present) and Choking

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

As your friend Sarah parked her car, she cleared her throat and opened the driver's side door. You opened the passenger door and got out, grabbing your backpack and slinging it across your shoulder, keeping it secure in that spot. You closed the door and as you did, you heard the sound of Sarah locking her 2010 Bentley. Her dad, Joel, who you are about to meet for the first time, bought it for her when she turned sixteen.

She is now twenty-one and you're nineteen. You two go to College together. She majors in Geology whereas you are a Psychology major. You two couldn't be more different with what career paths you want to go down but the two of you have bonded beautifully nonetheless. Yet despite being so close, you've never been to her place. It's either your apartment or at the local library. For once though, she invited you to her house which is in the suburbs of downtown Austin TX.

Sarah used her key to open the front door to the house and stepped aside, allowing you to enter first. The house was cozy looking just from the area you first entered in. It smelt nice too though you couldn't quite pin down what the scent could be exactly. You took off your Doc Martins and hung your jacket up on the rack as Sarah did the same, removing her Converse and tossing her jacket on the floor. Of course, you plan to have as good a set of manners as you can.

"Just through here, we can study at the dining table." Sarah said softly, removing her backpack from her back and holding it close. You followed behind her and as you did, you saw a tall, muscular yet older man standing in the kitchen. You recognized him too, it's her father, Joel. He's definitely much taller than you expected and looks a bit older too. He has to be in his late thirties at best. Sarah was clearly surprised to see her dad as she set her bag down and ambled over to him.

"Dad, I didn't think you'd be home so early," She glanced at the clock, "It's only seven." Joel set his soda can down and looked at the digital oven clock and nodded. "Yeah, boss let me and your uncle off early today. How was class?" He asked her, his voice thick with a southern accent. Honestly, it was pretty attractive. You silently took a seat at the table as they continued to converse. "Fine. Boring. I just want to get to the good stuff, you know?" "I know baby but you have to be patient." Joel snickered.

Sarah nodded and pulled two water bottles from the fridge, tossing one to you and keeping the other one in hand. "You goin' introduce me to your friend over here?" Joel pointed at you and gandered over at Sarah. "Right..." Sarah introduced you, then introduced him to you. "And this is my amazing dad, Joel." Sarah said sarcastically yet lovingly as she took a seat across from you. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Miller." You said with a smile. He snorted and shook his head. "Call me Joel."

Joel. Right. You probably sounded stupid by being so formal. You chuckled and nodded. "Okay." You murmured. Joel turned back to face Sarah. "I'll be up in my room so uh, if either of ya's need me, just come and knock." "Okay dad." Sarah nodded and began to take stuff out of her bag. "It was nice to meet ya." Joel stated to you. "Nice to meet you too, Joel." You smiled. He then inched off towards the staircase before leaving the downstairs area.

Before you knew it, you and Sarah had all of your study supplies out. Everything from your laptop to notebooks, you two were prepared. Finals are coming up and there is absolutely no way you plan to fail any of them, especially for you Psychology 101 class. You have studied and worked your ass off day and night for that class. You'll be damned if you get anything lower than a 90%.

"This class is kicking my ass." "Which one?" "Advanced Geology studies. I can't wait to become a paleontologist but working towards it is a bitch." Sarah laughed and rubbed her temple. "I get it. I am beyond excited to become a psychiatrist but the last thing I want to be doing right now is studying. I'd much rather be out getting drunk and eating junk food." You snorted. Sarah nodded. She couldn't agree more.

You two have gone to your fair share of College parties. They all suck, in all honesty, but they are fun. You and Sarah always go to them together. The last time you guys went to one was about a month ago so a break would be pleasant. And, it was like Sarah read your mind. "If we finish studying early, I can order us some dinner." "That would be fantastic." You said as you grabbed out extra notes from your backpack.

"Let's get to it then." Sarah groaned before putting that black gel pen to paper. You instead used your laptop, at least for this studying session.

The clock starts now.

Your fingers were beginning to cramp up. All of that typing and writing does that to you. Just by looking at Sarah, you could tell she was exhausted. The only thing keeping her awake now was the fact food was right in front of her. You two decided to not wait and ended up ordering Chinese about an hour into studying. It's now almost ten at night and Sarah is clearly spent. Occasionally, she takes a bite of her noodles and coconut chicken but other than that, she's staring off into space.

"You good?" You giggled and used your chopsticks to get a piece of sesame chicken into your needy mouth. "Yes, yes I am." Sarah rubbed her eyes and took a drink of her water. "I am dropping out of College." She joked and took another bite of her food. You laughed and nodded. "I feel ya... Are you going to go to sleep then?" "Here in a bit, most definitely. As for you, you can either crash on my floor or on the couch—whichever you prefer."

You thought about that for a moment. Both are fine options. Though, you'll probably sleep down here so you don't disturb her whilst you continue to study.

Slurping up some more noodles, you sighed and swallowed them. "I'll crash down here, I plan to study more, so." "More!? You are insane." Sarah's eyes went wide and she rolled them playfully. "I don't play around when it comes to finals. This noggin has to acquire as much knowledge as possible." You giggled and stretched out your fingers, trying to release them from the uncomfortable feeling of cramps and stiffness. "If you say so, props to you." Sarah stood up and closed her takeout box.

"I'm spent for the night, I'll continue in the morning." She stated as she ambled over to the fridge. She opened it up and set her Chinese food inside of it to save for later. You figured you'll do the same once you get full. "I'm heading to bed girl. If you need anything, help yourself, nothing is off limits." Sarah assured you. As she walked past you, she patted your head playfully and grabbed her water. "Goodnight!" You said kindly, waving to her. "Nighty night." Were her last words.

A minute or so later, you heard her bedroom door shut and you released a sigh. Now you are all alone. It isn't so bad though. You decided you'd finish up your food then sit on the couch to study, that'll be much more comfortable.

You found yourself on the couch shortly after. Your laptop rested in your lap and you had your earbuds in. The song playing was Dreams by Fleetwood Mac—one of your favorites. As you listened to a classic tune, you scrolled on YouTube, finding videos to benefit your study sesh. You found quite a few and added them to your 'Studying' playlist in which you use very often.

Tonight went well. You had a good time with Sarah despite the boring studying, you got yummy food which you devoured and you even met her dad after all this time. Joel doesn't seem bad at all. He's kind, welcoming and well, hot. Of course, you'd never make your attraction towards him obvious, he's your best friends dad! But the moment you saw him, your stomach did flips and you had to hold back a grin.

You shook the thoughts from your head and went back to focusing. You sighed deeply and began to type in a new docs. You've typed out four different ones just in this singular night. It's been rough but you know it's insanely worth it in the long run. You are so proud of how far you've come in College-it is truly amazing.

As you typed more and more, you must've not noticed the six foot man traverse down the stairs and say hello to you until you glanced up and saw him standing in front of you, a tallboy in hand. "Oh." You muttered and paused your music, removing your ear buds and looking up at him. "Hey, Mr. Miller-I mean, Joel." "Hello." He snickered and sat down beside you, stretching and letting out a low groan. You honestly thought he was sleeping.

"What're you studyin'?" You heard Joel ask. You cleared your throat and turned your laptop more to face him. "Just studying for my finals-currently for my Biochem class." "Biochemistry, huh? That your major?" "Absolutely not." You snorted. You'd rather shoot yourself, actually. "I major in Psychology." "Ah, psychology. Pretty sure Sarah wanted to major in that at one point or another." "She did. She's good with Geology though." You stated and paused your studying session to just speak with this man.

Joel sipped his beer and cleared his throat, the cold, refreshing drink clearing it up naturally too. Joel gandered at the coffee table then at your hands. "You drink?" "Oh uhm..." You stuttered. You're nineteen, he realizes that, right? You do drink from time to time but why would you admit that? "I'm not dumb." Joel snickered. "You want a beer or is wine more your thing?" "Beer." You stated plainly. "Atta girl." Joel nudged your knee and stood up, stumbling over to the fridge.

He grabbed out a beer from the fridge and walked back over to you, setting it on the coffee table and gazing at you. "How old are ya?" "Oh, I'm nineteen." "Young. Don't let life slip past ya." Joel snickered and chugged some of his beer. As he did, his blue work shirt slightly lifted up, offering you a glance of his pudgy stomach. You bit your lower lip and looked away, staring at your laptops bright screen. You can't even deny that seeing his stomach was enticing.

You grabbed the beer and opened it up. The crackling sound of cracking it open was satisfying. You brought it up to your lips and took a sip. It was strong but not hardcore, you could handle it. It was bland though, definitely not the best beer you've had but hey, it's from an older man's fridge, what else can you really expect? Joel laughed when seeing you drink it. Admittedly, he was surprised you handled it with grace.

Joel chuckled after seeing you drink the beer so casually. It isn't everyday he sees a girl of your age and size handle a beer straight like that. Admittedly, he found it rather attractive.

"Surprised you ain't out yet, I heard Sarah crash upstairs not too long ago." "Yeah, I'm not very tired yet. I'm usually awake until midnight anyways." "Midnight? As a College student? You're crazy." Joel teased and drank more of his beer. Everyone says that. You should head to bed earlier but you're simply rarely tired until later at night. You set your beer down and closed your laptop (You can resume your work later, when you aren't so... Distracted...).

You had changed before sitting on the couch. You're wearing something rather... Revealing? It's a pair of lacey shorts with a matching top which definitely shows off your cleavage. You hope Joel doesn't mind or doesn't even notice overall. When you peeped over at him, he was focused on his beer and whatever else he was thinking about. That's a good sign.

"So uhm, Joel, what do you do for work?" You decided to make conversation so the tension wasn't so evident. "Contractor. It's basically construction and carpeting mixed together." Joel stated. "I see. That's a tough job." "When ya start, yeah, then you get used to it and it's nothin'." He established. Seems true enough but that can go for really any job, right? You're such becoming a psychiatrist will have a similar outcome.

"With your degree, what do you plan to become?" "Psychiatrist." "Study the human brain, I see. Bet if ya studied mine, you'd either be terrified or disgusted." Joel laughed and put his beer down. "Why's that?" "An old man like myself ain't got nothin' innocent up in the brain." He cackled and undid his belt, tossing it off to the side to let his stomach have more space. An innocent act yet, your brain immediately shifted to something more seducing.

Guess a young mind isn't so different then.

You giggled and rested your head in your hand. "What makes you think a young mind is any different?" "All College students have similar things up in their heads. Work, homework, alcohol and sex... That ain't nothin' darlin'." Darling? What an odd thing to randomly call you. You felt your stomach flip at the sudden petname and the eye contact he decided to initiate. You looked down and bit your lip. "You aren't wrong." You snorted.

Sex. That's on your mind often.

"So what's on your mind then? Murder? How to buy cocaine?" You joked. "Sometimes." He teased back. "What's really on your mind?" You questioned him in a low, enticing tone-it wasn't even intentional either, it just sort of... Came out. "Right now?" "Sure." "Money, takin' a shower and sex." You laughed at his response. Seems like the average manly reply. Money, taking a shower and sex. Sex. Sex is on his mind right now?"

Joel smirked and looked you in the eyes. "How 'bout you?" "Well, let's see... Studying, Christmas break because that'll be heavenly and uhh, sex." You plainly said. You bit your lip afterwards and adjusted your seating position. Joel looked you up and down and nodded. "Sex for you too then, huh?" Joel let out a breathless snicker. You nodded and fluttered your eyes at him. Shit. Are you really seducing your best friend's dad? You are a total bitch.

You felt Joel's hand slither to your thigh. You breathed in a sharp breath and looked down, noticing his hand trailing upwards. It felt so good. It made your stomach twist and churn in the best ways possible. "Are you a virgin?" "No." You whispered as his hand moved closer to your pussy. It was covered by your shorts, but they have easy access. You are wet. You can feel it. You are pulsing. It's all because of this older fucking man.

"Who's the oldest guy you've fucked?" Joel was so straight forward. You cleared your throat. "I don't know... Seventeen or eighteen." You admitted. "Christ." He chuckled. "I'm almost fourty, that okay?" Joel asked. He's a man, such a man but a respectful one. The moment he saw you earlier, he could've came in his pants right then and there. You are gorgeous. He saw you and hell, if Sarah wasn't there he would've hit on you then and there.

Sarah has brought over a handful of friends and all of them were nothin' compared to you. In fact, he's never done anything with her friends. The craziest he's ever done is hookup with his brother's ex but, he'll never admit that to anybody.

As Joel's fingers inched closer to your special spot, you grabbed his hand and looked at him with an alarmed look. "What about Sarah?" "She's asleep." "I know but I can't just hookup with my friend's dad." "Yeah you can, I'm right here." Joel touched your pelvic area and earned a whimper out of you. The touch coming from him was something different. You wanted to give in and honestly, you plan to. This doesn't harm Sarah in any way, yeah? She won't even know.

You slowly let go of his hand and this gave Joel the green light. His fingers slipped passed the fabric of your shorts and you felt two of his finger tips against your damp underwear. He can most definitely feel how wet you are. "I've hardly fuckin' touched ya and you are this wet?" "Sorry." You looked down in shame. Though, Joel snickered. "Hell are you apologizing for? I think it's sexy." He said in a sexy, deep voice before he suddenly pulled you into his lap.

You straddled him and felt shivers trail down your spine. The two other boys you've been with were not this straight forward. You looked down and encased your arms around his neck, not knowing where else to put them. Joel's hands remained on your upper thighs. "Tell me," Joel began, "What is it you want?" You have no clue. You want Joel to lead the way, quite frankly. "What I want is..." You murmured before making eye contact with him. "I want you to do whatever it is you'd like to do to me." You whispered out.

A faint, hushed breath came from Joel as he heard you say that. He squeezed your thighs and looked into your alluring eyes. "Jesus Christ." You felt Joel harden beneath you. Did you seriously turn this man on even further? You're proud of yourself for that. "I want you to ride me." Joel breathed heavily and patted your ass, making you squeak. You've rode a guy, once, but you've done it. At least you won't be going into this completely blindsided.

Breathing in deeply, you nodded. "Okay." You smiled. Whilst on top of him, you leaned back and pulled your sleeping shirt off. You weren't wearing a bra beneath it-you aren't supposed to sleep in bras. Once it was off, Joel immediately latched onto your left tit. You gasped and held onto his head, your fingers trailing through his brunette hair. "Oooh fuck." You whimpered and took it.

Joel suckled and swirled all over your nipples and breasts. It felt amazing. It was a euphoric feeling. His tounge worked wonderfully around your perky breasts. All you did was caress his hair and be supporting. He pulled away and now kissed you. His lips aggressively went up against yours and you moaned, kissing him just as passionately back. This felt so surreal. Shortly after making out with you, he pulled away and went back to sucking your tits.

Autonomously, you felt yourself grinding against him. You could feel your folds becoming more and more wet. The friction of you against him, dry humping him, was enough to turn you on even more. Joel's hands held onto your thighs tighter as you continued. You've never felt this drawn to somebody before. You want your hands all over him, and his all over you. You shouldn't feel this way. This is Sarah's fucking dad! You are a total cunt for even kissing him let alone preparing to ride him.

He let go of your tits and gazed into your eyes, patting your thighs. "Here," He grunted and leaned back. Joel pulled his blue, stained work shirt over his hand and threw it onto the floor. You placed your hands on his chest and dragged them down to his jeans. His belt was already off. You reached inside his jeans and immediately felt his erection. Oh, he's hard. It was so sexy-the fact he was twitching and pulsing over you.

"Take your shorts off, I'll do this." Joel stated, beginning to mess with his pants. You nodded and stood up for just a moment, dropping down your silkly pants and leaving your pink, laced undies on. Joel finds them cute. You climbed back onto his lap as he pulled out his hard cock. It is long & girthy. You are a bit amazed, in all honesty. He's bigger than anyone you've been with. You can't wait to feel how he feels inside of you.

"Do you have a condom?" "Yeah, I do." Joel reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled one out. You were a bit confused as to why he already had one on him but you decided not to bother with it. You held onto him as he began to wrap himself up. The second that condom is on, it's game time. He pulled the rubber down... And down... And down. He's long, your mind isn't just playing tricks on you. You wonder how he'll feel once inside of your dripping cunt.

Joel's hand went to your panties and pulled them to the side. As he did that, you heard him groan. "You're fuckin' soaked. You get like this for just any guy?" "No... Not usually..." It was odd. No man has ever turned you on like this. Joel is different. He's a real man. "You're a dirty girl." He slid his index through your folds, causing you to shutter and grip onto his skin more firmly. "But you'll take my cock good, right?"

His words. The way he speaks. He's a pro. Let the water gates flood! You moaned and nodded. "Yes." "Good girl." Joel slapped your ass before gripping it and pulling you down onto his length. He gave you no time to adjust. You moaned and wrapped your arms around his neck once again, needing that closure. He was deep inside of you already. It feels... Different. You don't know if it's because he's bigger and longer or if it's because well, it's this guy.

For some reason, you have a feeling it's a mixture of both.

After testing the waters and feeling for what's best, you began to ride him. You grinded your hips back and fourth on his lap, his length teasing your inner walls. With each movement, even just the slightest, you'd earn a groan or a grunt out of Joel. "Fuck." Joel murmured, his hands squeezing your rear as you moved against him. "You're fuckin' tight." He praised you. "You spread your legs for just any guy then, huh? Dirty fuckin' girl." Joel degraded you.

Oddly enough, you found that hot.

You bit your lip and moved against him faster. Joel would occasionally spank you and you're sure there'll be red marks on both cheeks once he's done with you. It feels so good. Having this man deep within you is a pleasure and it's all yours. You moaned and tossed your head back and as you did, you felt his hand grip it and squeeze it. "Stay quiet, you hear? Don't need Sarah hearin' us." Joel stated to you. He's right.

But fuck, how can you stay quiet? This feels extraordinary. Just inside of you, you can feel his dick twitching. You're sure he hasn't had a good pussy like yours in awhile. You began to bounce on him and with each one, Joel seethed and held onto you tighter. "Look at ya, you know what you're doin'." He's right. You do. Maybe you are a whore, a slut, whatever, you don't care-just as long as he's the one calling you such names.

"Keep ridin' me like the fuckin' desperate girl you are. I saw you eye-fuckin me earlier, don't think you're slick." Well damn. You suppose he isn't stupid. You whimpered and rode him much faster & harder now. You began to mix your grinding and bouncing together, creating the ultimate pleasurable feeling. He let go of your neck and went back to holding your ass. He slapped it, hard, earning a squeak out of you. Such a good feeling this is.

You smashed your lips against his and licked his lower lip. Joel laughed and opened his mouth, allowing you to explore it. You slipped your tounge inside and smiled against his lips. The warmth of his mouth was comforting and a feeling that was only bringing you closer to the edge. His hands caressed your bum softly before spanking it once again and this time after spanking you, he began to move your hips forward, taking over.

"You've clearly been needin' this, hm? You a whore?" "No." Was all you managed you get up. Joel scoffed and kissed you again, this time moving his tongue roughly into your mouth. At the sudden kiss, you held onto him tighter. You can feel your orgasm building up, it's so very evident. He pulled away and spit drabbles off of your lips. "That right? You ain't a whore? You're sure as hell actin' like one." He then began to kiss your neck.

Those soft kisses. He planted numerous of them on the inner parts of your throat. You are so close. You're going to cum any moment now. "I feel... Joel..." You shuttered out, your body beginning to shake. "That'a girl, cum for me." With just a few more bounces and grinds, you finally hit your breaking point. You moaned loudly but Joel was quick to kiss you just to shut you up. You held onto the back of his head, pulling and tugging on his scraggly hair.

Joel held your waist in place as he began to thrust upwards. Each thrust made him realize how wrong yet right this feels/is. Fucking his own daughters best friend? Hell, what's gotten into him? At the same time however, he doesn't regret a damn thing.

One more thrust and boom, Joel's hot seed bursted into the rubber. He grunted and gripped your ass as he finished into the condom. You simply kept your head in the crook of his neck, trying to process this entire situation.

After he came down from his high, he patted your ass so you'd get off of him and you did. You plopped onto the couch and continued to breath rather heavily. That was intense, it was insane. You glanced over at Joel who simply picked his beer up and drank a big swig out of it. He's probably processing this just as you are. You don't know how to feel about all of this anyways.

He looked over at you and smirked. "Sarah don't need to know about this, yeah?" He stated as he began to fix his pants and throw his shirt back on. "Definitely." You nodded. This is your guy's little secret. "What do we do now...?" You murmured. "I'm goin' take my happy ass to bed but uh, my number is on the fridge door so if you ever need me, I'll be there." Joel winked and fixed his pants as he stood up.

That's it? He just fucked you and now leaves? Is every man like this? You scoffed and put your shirt back on. "What's the attitude for?" "Nothing. Hand me my pants." Joel leaned down and grabbed them, kneeling down and putting them past your ankles, pulling them up for you. "Don't take what we did personal, sweet thing. It was just another hookup for me, alright?" Just another hookup. Right.

You nodded, despite not agreeing. He is giving you his number so that's nice, you think? After getting fully dressed again, you sighed deeply and sat down on the couch. Joel drew himself closer to your face and planted and kiss on your cheek. "Don't ever tell anyone 'bout this, you hear?" "Mhm." You mumbled and pulled the brown blanket over you, just wanting to be covered up completely now.

He pulled away and gazed at you. "For the record, you are the best I've had in awhile." Was that meant to magically make you feel better? You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Okay then." You put plainly. He picked up his beer and began to slowly walk backwards towards the stairs. "Numbers on the fridge." Were the last words he said before he began to leave, heading back to his bedroom.

"Numbers on the fridge." You whispered to yourself and scoffed, turning off the lamp to your right and laying down on the couch. What a fucking evening this has been.

#tumblr fyp #the last of us #tlou #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller smut #pedro pascal smut #please reblog #smut

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buryhny · 3 months ago

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One Night Stand ; 43 ⋆.

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

☆ jungkook x y/n ☆ contains smut, fluff and angst ☆ chapter forty three ; wc | 5.4k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

Jungkook is quiet, hasn't said a word, not even a hum, and it's seriously bothering you. He is seated right next to you in the lounge, the silence is unsettling and worrying. This isn't like him, and it frightens you. Turning to him, you ask for what feels like the hundredth time,

"Hey, please tell me what's wrong." he gives you the same answer, "I'm fine y/n, it's nothing." His sudden behavior change is worrying. He was so happy and excited when you two were about to leave for the airport, but something must've happened to make him leave the house with such a gloomy look like something was bothering him.

In Jungkook's mind, there's a storm of thoughts eating away at him. Why would your mom say something like that to him? And even if she did, why did it have to be so hateful? He just can't wrap his head around why she pretended to care about him while feeling so low about him all along. he keeps thinking about what she said and he can't help but feel afraid of everything now. he's hurt, hurt that he thought he could find a mother figure in his life and she ended up pretending?

Jungkook keeps thinking about it over and over again and it only makes him furious. You've explained everything to your parents, what your relationship status is too and even though your mother is aware of all the ups and downs and how you both are starting slow, she spoke to him so rudely? His frown gets even deeper, and it makes you so uneasy you can't even figure out why he might be upset. You don't want to bother him with a bunch of questions, so you just stay quiet and wait for him to talk when he's ready.

When you both board the flight and take your seats, Jungkook helps you adjust your seatbelt without saying a word. Then, he puts out his hand for you to hold as the plane takes off. That small gesture is a relief—it's obvious he's not mad at you, at least. Now and then, you peek over to look at him, only to find him asleep. A few times, he caught you staring and asked if you needed anything or had to rush to the bathroom again,

but you just shook your head to reassure him. when you think about it, the reason he must be upset could be that his birthday is coming soon, in just 3 days. after all, he's told you the whole tale of his life and what a nightmare it had been with his ex-girlfriend, on the day of his birthday. You're uncertain, but even the small chance of it being the reason makes your heart. You have already been planning something special for his birthday and now,

you want to make it the best day of this year. this brings you some hope and a smile on your face when you think about all the little surprises you've made, you can't wait to get back home and prepare for it. secretly. the flight was long and Jungkook peeped many times to look over at you, to check if you were doing okay, feeling cold or hungry but you didn't care to ask the air hostess for food. you'll notice him looking so you would remove one side of the headphones and raise your eyebrows to which he shakes his head.

"you okay?" you ask, he nods at you and passes the chocolate he received from the staff to you. he doesn't eat sweets so whatever they offer him, he gives it to you so you can enjoy doubling the treats. "hey..." you murmur when he tries to rest back. "yeah?" he'll come forward. "you want mo-" "i', fine..." you interrupt him from questioning about food again. "I just want you to know that you can tell me anything." you whisper to which he deeply exhales. Jungkook doesn't know how to put this into words.

He doesn't want you to agree with your mother, but he also doesn't want you to resent her. After all, she's not entirely wrong. As a mother—and the mother of her only daughter—she has every right to worry about your future, especially given your traditional background. Her concerns aren't unfounded, no matter how much they might sting.

he gives you a tight smile and puts his hand over so you can hold it. and when you do, he leans in and kisses the back of your palm, leaving butterflies inside your stomach. The baby has been unusually active the past few days, and it fills you with a kind of warmth you can't describe. Every kick, every flutter—

it's like a secret language shared just between the two of you. You want Jungkook to feel it too, not just with his hand on your bump, but with every fiber of his being. You want him to truly connect, to let it sink into his heart and soul, the way it does for you. You know he'll agree when you ask, without hesitation, and his touch will be gentle, reverent even.

But you hope that after his birthday surprises, when he sees all the love and effort you've poured into making him feel special, he'll fully embrace this new chapter. You're certain that in those moments, he'll step into the role of the loving father he's always dreamed of being—the one he's never let himself believe he could be.

;

The ride back home was at 4;30 am and was heavy with silence, the kind that settled deep into your chest. But no matter how much you tried to hold it in, you couldn't resist the sudden urge to stay close to him or to at least feel his warmth so you placed your head on his shoulder. Jungkook flinched slightly but immediately relaxed, he caressed your hair and that made you smile.

You can't wait to be back home and to cuddle the man as you both share the same bed. "Bammie" you call out for the dog as soon as the doors open, you've missed the boy so much, even though it had been just a weekend getaway. Bam comes running to you both, jumping to greet you. "oh my god, he's getting the zoomies!!"

you exclaim and bend slightly to hold his paws. "oh my Bammie, come to mama!!" you walk to the couch so you can pet him because you can't bend down as you did before. His tail wags and his whines get loud as you walk beside him, Jungkook looks at the two of you and chuckles. He can't stay mad when you both look so cute, he wants to frame this moment so bad.

"my bam-bam, come here." he jumps on the couch and begins to lick you, making you a giggling mess. Jungkook places the luggage inside removes his coat and throws it away. He interrupts you two and straight walks into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water and juice for you. "Bammie, Bammie, Bammie!!" you murmur his name a couple of times, placing kisses all around his body like Jungkook does.

"you're the sweetest boy ever, aren't you? You're the cutest, right? Of course, you are!!" Jungkook didn't realize how much you missed bam and even though his mood was completely off, he still smiled at the sight of you two. "go to appa!" you push him to go to Jungkook while you remove your coats. the dog rushes to his owner and jumps near him, so Jungkook grabs his paws and kneels. "bam-ah"

he mutters and giggles at the ticklish licks the dog gives him. "go back to y/n." he gets on his feet and walks towards you. "y/n have this juice." he hands you a bottle of fresh strawberry juice. "thanks.." You glance at him and can't help but notice how exhausted he looks. You're tired too, but Jungkook's tension seems to weigh heavier, making the dark circles under his eyes far more prominent. You want to ease his burden somehow,

but you have no idea what's troubling him, and asking isn't an option since he doesn't respond. The two of you head upstairs to his room—or rather, the room you now share. You feel the need for a warm shower, imagining how much better it would make you feel. But then you see Jungkook pulling a suit from his closet, and that's when you're completely at a loss.

"hey? Where are you going?" you ask him in confusion, he glances over his shoulder and huffs. "work y/n. It's a Monday.." 'yeah of course you know it's a fucking Monday!!' "but you need some rest, you- you can go back to work freshly tomorrow." you tell him, you hear him exhale as he pauses his selection of tie for a minute before resuming. "I don't need rest, I'm fine."

his response says everything, he isn't speaking gently, he isn't looking at you, he isn't touching you and fuck, he doesn't call you by nicknames! "please take some rest, it was a long flight. You're not gonna be well." you murmur out of concern, you don't want him to overwork and he needs sleep, he barely closed his eyes the entire flight, you know he didn't sleep.

"I'm fine y/n! I am." this time his words were slightly louder than he usually is and you know, he's got some issue so you don't say anything anymore. If he is stubborn, then be it. "fine." you leave his room and lock yourself in the shower of your previous washroom. You're kinda frustrated and the way he responds isn't making things better.

You care for him but if he doesn't care for himself then it's not something you can help. You focus on pampering yourself so you walk into the shower and set a nice bubble bath. Until then you look for cake designs so you can plan something special for his birthday. You also have another surprise in mind that you can't do by yourself, so you text Hobi for some help.

y/n; Hey Hoba, how's everything? All well?

You strip your clothes and get comfortable inside the bathtub. Moans leave your lips at how perfectly warm the water is. It's exactly what you need after a 13-hour long flight. "Baby, you need to stop kicking me now. Let Mama relax," you mumble and giggle at the sight of the movement you can see, with your belly popping out of the bubbles.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is utterly frustrated with himself for speaking to you that way. It wasn't your fault for being worried about him. He can't stop replaying everything your mother said in his mind. The rude tone of her words no longer stings—it's what they imply that troubles him now. Does marriage even cross your mind?

He realizes there are still parts of you he doesn't fully understand. He knows you well, but not completely. The two of you haven't discussed the nature of your relationship yet, leaving him uncertain about where you stand. What gnaws at him most is the possibility that you might be feeling conflicted but choose not to tell him, all because he's intent on taking things slow.

He doesn't want to upset you but he also can't change his mood and feelings so fast. It is almost 6;30 am after he showered and took some rest, he decided to go to work and check everything since he left his staff to handle everything while he was away, he plans to come home early and sort things out by then. Jungkook adjusts his tie and walks out of the room, he peeps into your room and sees you freshly dressed in a crop top.

You are sleeping under the blanket and Bam sleeps beside you with his head on your neck. Jungkook knows that you're tired so he didn't want to disturb you, so he left for work after taking a long look at you and informed Maya to take care of you while he was away.

;

You woke up to the delicious smell of Korean food. It's about 1 pm, you had a good sleep since you were fucking tired. Your muscles feel so relaxed and the stretching was mm-hmm. you were about to step out of your room when you felt a striking pain in your back and feet. "fuck.." you slowly walked back inside the room and took a seat on the couch, applying some pressure to the areas that hurt. "dear..."

Maya enters your room with a knock and soon places the food on the glass table. "are you fine?" She asks, and you shake your head. "I'm fine—just some aches here and there." She nods in understanding, lifting your foot onto her lap and gently massaging it, bringing soothing relief to your cramps. "Here, have your lunch,"

she says, handing you a dish of bibimbap and kimchi, her smile warm and knowing. She's aware of how much you adore her cooking—it's always met with your praises. "Mmm, Maya... you're truly a gift from above!" you groan, your mouth full of rice and veggies, head falling back against the couch in bliss. It's not just the delicious food; the soft, comforting massage on your feet makes the moment pure perfection.

The plate sits on your bump, truly useful now that it's all big and round, it can hold much stuff! "how was the trip, dear?" she questions curiously. "oh it was messy, to begin with, but Then it was lovely, my parents were accepting- though it took them some time.." you say, recalling how nervous you both were at the doorstep, just how crazy it was the whole day, you wouldn't ever want to experience that in your life ever again.

it was horrific, way worse than the day you found out you were pregnant. It has to be the pressure and the worry of acceptance. Your parents are kind and open-minded, but also... are they that open-minded to accept your child for a mistake? That was the haunting question but anyway, it all ended pretty well so you're glad that it was all a 2-day thing.

Maya and you engage in a conversation about baby clothing and the other items that will be useful for the future, which you're supposed to shop for now. Your screen lights up with a response from Hobi.

Hoba; hey y/n!!! I'm good.

How are you and the little one?

y/n; all good, the little one is being very naughty.

Anyway hoseok, I want your help...

Hoba; say right away

You needed his help to surprise Jungkook, only a trustworthy friend could help and of course, it was him. so you shared the plan with him by text and told him all the details that you had.

Hoba; omfg i'm so down!!!!Just wait for it cheesecake, I'm gonna make this plan 100 times better.

You giggle at his response, he's a sweetheart and you're so glad you found a true friend here in Seoul. You plan the rest of the stuff that's needed for Jungkook's birthday because it's just 2 days away and there's quite a bit to do. You also need the staff's help so you tell Maya about what needs to be done and without any doubt she was already getting the items according to your color and taste. You want to do this for him.

Jungkook deserves so much, and if you can do something—just one little thing—that changes how he feels about birthdays, it'll be worth it. His hatred for them comes from so much pain, but love heals everything, right?

And you're going to show him that love wins every time. You'll give him all the love, care, and support to turn this one day into the best one he's had all year. It's not just you in on this, either. It's the two of you now. Your little one is part of the plan, too. This baby is going to change his life, no question, and you'll make sure it's for the better. Together, you're going to make this day unforgettable.

;

You spent the day like usual—binging TV series and playing with Bam. But what surprised you was when the doorbell rang. Glancing down from upstairs, you saw the staff answering it, and soon after, a couple of workers entered the house. Confusion set in as they started decorating the room you were staying in and moving your belongings to another one.

Maya caught your deepening frown and chuckled before explaining, "Sir wants to turn this room into a nursery! for the little one." That's when everything clicked. Of course, it made sense now. Your belongings were being moved to Jungkook's room, while the room you'd been staying in was being transformed into a nursery.

After all, it's the closest room to his—and now, yours too. You could not hold back the large smile that grew on your face. There's no way Jungkook was doing this. A nursery?!! So what- is everything set? Are you gonna be living with him? The baby too? You could not contain the happiness you felt, you could vomit sparkles, sprinkles and glitter. "Ma'am, we were told to ask your preferences for the decoration—the colors you'd like."

You didn't even think about it at first, your brain kind of lagging for a second. "Uh..." You're not the type to stick to the typical pink-for-girls, blue-for-boys thing. It doesn't make sense to you. You want your kid to love any color they want, no matter what. "Purple would be nice... I like purple." the workers had come to clear the area up so you can decide on which items go where and do the painting according to the colors you want.

Your stuff was arranged in the closet. It had been divided between Jungkook and you and honestly, that makes your stomach clench at how crazy that is. You're now sharing a room with him, entirely. Not just the bed but his closet and everything else.

It's becoming your room as much as it is his. Your plushies sleep on the bed because you didn't want them to be seated on the frame, plushies are meant to sleep with you and you can't sleep without your avocado. You wanted to be helpful too but Maya wouldn't allow you to take a step so you had to watch her arrange them with the other maids.

The closet seems full now and it's so lovely to see it becoming yours. Even though Jungkook had unknowingly brightened your day, a lingering worry still gnawed at you. He hadn't texted you all day, and that's just so not like him. You can't help but feel uneasy, but you try to push those thoughts aside. Instead, you focus on the nursery.

You're determined to make it lively, full of energy, and as colorful as possible. You start brainstorming, imagining bright shades of every color filling the space. But at the heart of it all, purple will take the lead. It's your favorite color, and it's soothing and comforting—something about it just calms you.

You picture soft purple walls and Jungkook and you stand beside the cot, cradling the little one to sleep while you two watch your newborn. It sounds like a dream, like a movie's ending and you can't wait for that day to come. Your hands caress your bump as you imagine lovely beginnings.

;

The night comes by and Jungkook returns home in exhaustion. He's drained out mentally and physically. he wants to talk to you about what your mother said to him but when he sees you walking fast towards him with utmost difficulty with that big bump of yours, he can't help but smile at that sight. "Jungkook!!! oh my god."

you hug his waist while he is removing his coat, and he giggles at your excitement, he knows exactly why you are all giddy and excited. "calm down, calm down there." "How can I?!! I forgot about a nursery until they knocked on the door. I- am so excited. so I think we; 're gonna do this with purple but I'll also like a splash of the other colors but- we make it pastel and-"

You keep on and on and Jungkook can't help but raise his eyebrows at the speed you talking. You're so excited, he sees it all over your face, your glowing and beaming and he loves this so much, he loves the look of happiness and excitement in you. it's crazy how his thoughts and anxiety just vanished into thin air when you ran towards him and hugged him.

he couldn't find the words to describe you but then he knew... you're light to his darkness, the energy to his lifeless body and heart and he can't tell how much you mean to him. he keeps looking at you go on and on about something he doesn't even know. what were you talking about again? Was it food? oh no no, you were talking about some colored pasta?

"shhh y/n...hey... take a breath." he says with a chuckle and you laugh too, taking some breaths because that was a train speed of talk. "we can talk about everything later... i- I need to freshen up." he murmurs and you nod. "yes- yes, please. god, you need to rest- did you have dinner? I think maybe ha-" "I'm okay... I'm okay....did you have dinner?"

he asks and you look around the room. "I was hungry-" "That's okay, I'm glad you had early dinner." he says with a smile. "I'll shower and then we can talk." you nod as you watch him walk upstairs while you grab yourself some water. you feel relieved that Jungkook came home with a smile and was also speaking much better than he was before.

you get some water for him too and walk upstairs after giving Bam some good night kisses and pats. "Jungkook I got you a glass of wa-" You enter the room to be met with a sleepy Jungkook. There he was, sprawled across the bed in exhaustion, One arm dangled off the edge of the mattress, while the other rested limply over his stomach.

The sheets were barely covering him, bunched up and crumpled around his legs as if he had tossed them aside in his sleep and the faint scent of his shampoo lingered in the air, still fresh from his shower. you melt at the sight of him, he was tired and in need of sleep. you have no idea why he was so grumpy and quiet but you think he might be better tomorrow once he'd gotten his hours of sleep. you place the glass on the bedside table,

remove the towel from his hand place it inside the washroom bar and turn off the main light. gently without disturbing him, you pulled the sheets from his feet to drape them over his body. Switching on the lamp, the room filled with a soft, warm glow. You slipped onto the bed beside him, careful not to disturb the peaceful rhythm of his breathing.

He looked so beautiful like this, lost in sleep. His lips were slightly parted, his face relaxed, and his hair, now free from the gel was an untamed mess, damp strands curling naturally against his skin. You couldn't help but reach out, letting your fingers gently brush his forehead. You smoothed his hair back, feeling the soft texture beneath your fingertips as you combed through the damp locks.

He stirred just slightly, leaning into your touch like it was second nature, but didn't wake. your fingers continue to caress his hair while you admire him, Jungkook stirred, shifting to his side, his movements slow and hazy, like his body wasn't entirely his yet. His eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded and unfocused, blinking a few times as if testing the waking world.

He smacked his lips softly, the faint taste of sleep lingering on his tongue before his eyelids drooped again. you chuckle at that before turning to your opposite side so you can drift to sleep too. Jungkook shifts closer, nuzzling into your neck as his arm drapes over your waist in a lazy, possessive hold. A soft, contented sound escapes his lips, almost a moan, as he melts into the faint warmth your body offers.

You've always been the cooler half; his perfect contrast. Even with the air conditioner making your skin cold, your neck somehow retains a subtle warmth that he craves. He doesn't like warmth meeting warmth; as the naturally warmer one, he seeks the chill that balances him out.

Your body does it effortlessly, the coolness soothing him, grounding him, making him press closer like he's found the perfect spot in a restless world. Jungkook relaxes as he drifts to sleep immediately.

;

Jungkook was already gone to work by the time you woke up, he did leave you a message that having a couple of meets would keep him busy the entire day so you wished him luck on that and chose to keep yourself busy too with the birthday preparations.

as you give it s thought you kind of feel like Jungkook is intentionally keeping himself busy, could be because it's his birthday or another reason which you aren't aware of. Whatever it is, you hope he comes back home early. Or even if he does come late, you hope he won't sleep like he did yesterday, that would ruin all your plans that you've saved for midnight to surprise him on his 30th birthday.

Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn't even realize what day it is. He's completely unaware that tomorrow's September 1st, his birthday. He's too caught up in work, using it as a way to keep busy and avoid thinking about anything relationship-related.

Honestly, he's not ready to talk about that yet. He knows there's stuff to discuss, but he's still trying to wrap his head around it all. But even with everything going on, he can't help but look forward to the weekend. He wants to get through all the work so he can spend the days with you, doing something he's never done before, baby shopping.

He wants to shop for baby clothing, the cot, the toys and so much more, he doesn't even know what he's supposed to get but he wants to get it all. He also wants to discuss the whole nursery situation with you, the detailing and colors. There's just about a month left and there's so much to do. He wants to be in every step now, so he doesn't miss out on the last few weeks of your first pregnancy and his first fatherhood experience.

;

It's about 7 pm when the doorbell rings with your phone's ringtone at the same time. It hooks and you rush downstairs carefully to take the items from him and of course to see the man himself. "Hey Hoba!!" oh my goodness, y/n!"

he walks inside fast and places the cake and other bags inside the room that you told him to and then he jumps on you and gives you the biggest- yet mist gentle hug he could ever manage. "I'm so so so excited for you!!! Congratulations!!" you giggle at his words as he continues to give you one of the longest hugs he has given anyone in a long time.

"thanks hoba, thanks for everything-" "Oh shut up!! I'm so fucking happy you chose me to do all this arrangement for you." he pulls away and holds your hands. has got the brightest smile on his face, beaming with joy and happiness which radiates to you and makes you happy too. "and I'm forever grateful, no one could do all this except you. Thank you so much Hoseok!!"

you say and he nods at your words, his eyes lighting up but with so much love that you fail to see. "please call me in the morning!" "Oh I will!!!" you both laugh. "Mr. Jeon's house is beautiful, I mean what else can you expect from the CEO of jeon industries, I'm so not surprised." he mutters as his eyes look around the details and effort of the mansion his CEO built with his own money. "and- to have you. Jackpot." "Stop it."

you hit his arm, cracking in laughter again but a hue on your cheeks as a sign of blushing. "I think whatever Jungkook has now, he deserves it so much. I'm not talking about me, because to be deserving of him, I have to work harder-" "You don't have to," Hoseok murmurs, his voice softer than usual. You glance at his face and catch a glimpse of something in his eyes, sadness, maybe? You don't know why, but it's there, hidden behind a fleeting expression.

Then, he smiles, the warmth returning to his face as he looks at you. "He loves you for a reason," he continues, his words steady now, "and that's because you are you." He pauses, almost like he's reassuring himself too, before adding, "He deserves you, and you deserve him. That's all I know." His eyes shift to your belly, and his smile widens.

"And this little one? The luckiest baby in the world." You can feel the sincerity in his words, and you both smile at his words as you get to the kitchen to offer him some juice. "oh no no, I'm fine y/n please don't trouble yourself-" "just one juice-" "I need to leave y/n, I must go, I've got some work on the way." he insists so you nod and hug him bye at the doorstep.

Here you are, all alone in this massive mansion, feeling so pumped about everything you've got in the works. Jungkook texted to say he'll be late, and honestly, you're kind of glad. It means you don't have to rush or stress about hiding the surprise just yet. The orders are here, the deco is done and you're ready too. The enthusiasm everyone showed for Jungkook's birthday celebrations really highlights how much they all care about him.

They were so eager to help in any way they could and managed to make you feel even more excited about everything. It's a testament to how Jungkook treats them, they may be staff, but they truly admire and respect him as their boss. Their genuine love for him is evident in their words, actions, and the respect they show.

the genuine support and care they show you, proves that they don't just work here, they've built a wonderful relationship with you and the baby too. they're ever so excited to know the gender and you cant wait for the big reveal tonight and the morning when everyone is present.

you keep looking at the time, the clock strikes 9pm and its still ticking but there's no sign of Jungkook. you're well aware that he's busy but he should've been home way earlier. you try not to worry about it and look at the deco all over again, just in case there's any mistake even though you've already checked it for the 15th time of the hour.

The entire scene playing out in your mind feels so magical—him walking home after a long day, and you casually forcing him to shower downstairs because apparently something's wrong with the washroom you both share now.

He doesn't question it, changes into his casuals, and spends time with you like it's any ordinary evening, unaware of what you've planned. When the clock strikes midnight, you excitedly cover his eyes, wish him a heartfelt happy birthday, and guide him upstairs to the room you both share, where everything you've prepared is waiting.

The thought of his reaction and the little details of the moment make you giggle just thinking about it. And then, right on cue, you hear the main door open—and he walks in, just as you imagined. or maybe not....

next chapter ⇢

hope you enjoyed this chap, let me know how you feel about this chap in the comments!

#one night stand #bts #bts fanfic #btswritersclub #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook smut #buryhny

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creamecafe · 4 months ago

Note

hii gorgeous!! i love your fics, could you write making out headcanons for dae-ho from squid game?? i would really appreciate, tyyy

Making Out Sessions with Kang Dae Ho HCs

Pairing: Kang Dae-Ho x GN!Reader

Warnings: makeout, kissing

Author's Note: Thank you so much for requesting this!

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Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my latest post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

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He acts like such a high schooler having his first girlfriend when making out with you

It mostly would be when you guys are in the same bed or on a couch watching a movie giving each other small kisses

Loves having you on his lap or lifting up you on counters

Slips his hand under your shirt and plays with your bra or slide his down your stomach to give you the chills

An average make out session with him would last about 10 minutes or more as he likes to take things nice and slow

Would ask you how you're feeling and if you want to stop anytime that's fine with him

Loves having his neck kissed and having hair hair pulled a bit

After you guys are done making out, his face is so red and can't stop smiling

Would ask you how it was and what he could do better next time

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Taglist:

@hobinistaworld, @cloudysxkura, @hollxe1, @61f1mazx

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#creamecafe #squid game season 2 #squid game 2 #request #squid game x reader #kang dae ho #dae ho x reader #dae ho #dae ho squid game #fluff scenario #fluffy fluff #fluff #make out #make out session

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janiehellion · 3 months ago

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐚 ⋮ 𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔢 𝔚𝔞𝔩𝔰𝔥

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: You thought you knew Shane Walsh—a man already halfway lost at sea—but nothing could've prepared you for what happens when he's drowning in his own demons and pulls you down to hell with him.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Smut ⋮ Angst ⋮ Flashbacks ⋮ References To Death & Murder ⋮ Mirror & Shower Sex ⋮ Manhandling ⋮ Breeding ⋮ Obsession & Possessiveness ⋮ Mentions Of Violence ⋮ Dissociation

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 6.666 𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈: S2E3 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Fem!Reader

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: My very first Shane Walsh work. Was I mentally stable while writing this? Debatable. Just kidding! This was actually a Wattpad request. I'm really hoping you enjoy it, though! Feel free to drop your thoughts!

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋮ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔

Shane had been acting strange since he returned. You noticed it the second he stepped back onto the farm—his shoulders stiff, his eyes wide, limping a little bit, and he was out of breath. He barely spoke, barely even looked at anyone. And when Hershel asked him about Otis, all he did was shake his head and answer a quiet "No..." before standing there, mouth open, shaking his head, and looking anywhere, just not at the man in front of him.

And as Rick stepped forward, he hugged Shane. A quiet thank you without any words. Shane barely reacted, nodding, eyes darting toward the farmhouse before stepping away like he couldn't bear to look. His voice was shaky when he spoke about what had happened—how Otis had told him to keep going, how he tried. You weren't sure if you believed him, but you knew one thing for certain.

Something was wrong.

And he wasn't telling anyone.

When Hershel went to break the news to Patricia, Shane stumbled away from the group, looking like a man about to crawl out of his skin. He leaned against the truck, mouth still slightly open, like he was still catching his breath, like the weight of whatever he'd been through was pressing down on him hard enough to crush every single bone inside his body.

You followed him.

"Shane?" You called his name gently, but he didn't react. His gaze was staring at the dirt beneath him, barely blinking, his eyes all wide.

You stepped closer. "Shane, talk to me."

His head moved slightly, but he still didn't look at you.

"You're hurt," you tried again, softer this time, letting your fingers slide along his arm. You felt the way he tensed, how he tried to flinch away from your touch. "At least let me—"

"I'm fine."

"But you don't look fine."

That got you a huff.

"Drop it."

But you didn't want to.

"No. I won't. You know that."

He finally looked at you then. Just a quick glance, but it was enough to send a shiver through you. His eyes were dark, unreadable, a storm that held back the thunder.

But it was his silence that unsettled you most. Shane was never quiet. Not like that. Even on his worst days, he'd have something to say—anger to let go of, frustration to bite down on. But now, he just looked empty. Hollow. As if whatever had happened out there was eating him up from the inside.

You didn't like it.

You didn't like the way he avoided your eyes like he couldn't stand to be seen.

When he started to walk away, you followed.

"Shane..." His back tensed at the sound of your voice, his pace quickening. "Shane, wait."

"Not now," he answered, heading for the house. "We gotta make sure Carl's okay."

You reached out, grabbing his arm before he could move any further. He froze at the contact, his body wet with sweat, and you could feel his pulse hammering beneath the skin. Too fast.

"He will be fine," you answered, trying to look into his eyes. "What happened?"

He shook his head. "Let it go."

"No," you insisted. "I'm not just gonna stand here and pretend I don't see that something's wrong. Just talk to me."

His fingers twitched at his sides, but he still wouldn't look at you.

"He didn't make it," Shane finally said, his voice hoarse.

You blinked, already knowing who he was referring to. "Otis?"

A quick nod was all he gave you. Nothing more.

You hadn't known the man well, but you knew enough. Knew that he'd gone with Shane to get the medical supplies, that he had a wife here on the farm who would be waiting for him to return.

You loosened your grip on Shane's arm, but you didn't let go. "I'm sorry," you answered, though the words felt small. Unimportant.

Shane inhaled deeply through his nose, exhaling just as slowly. "Yeah."

It wasn't an acknowledgment. It wasn't anything at all.

"Look, just—" You hesitated, searching his face for something, anything, that might tell you what was going on behind those eyes. "Just come inside, okay? Get cleaned up, get some rest."

He pulled his arm away—not rough, not aggressive, just final. "Already on it."

You followed him as he made his way inside, and after quickly checking up on Carl, Maggie handed him a set of clothes.

"The bathroom's upstairs," she said, looking at Shane, her eyes still swollen and red from crying. "I brought you some clothes."

Shane took them with only a little "thank you" in return.

"They won't fit well," Maggie added. "They were Otis'."

You watched him go in an instant after he nodded again. This wasn't just exhaustion. It wasn't just grief.

Something happened out there.

That thought stuck with you as you followed after him, slower this time. You weren't about to let this go—no. By the time you reached the upper level, you heard the bathroom door click shut.

Then, gathering your courage, you knocked lightly.

"Shane?"

No answer.

You knocked again. "Shane, come on."

Still nothing.

You pressed your hand to the door, waiting. You could hear the sounds of movement inside—clothes being put away, a pistol being laid down.

Then the water turned on. That was all you could hear.

"Shane, please," you tried one last time, but you already knew he wasn't going to answer.

With a frustrated sigh, you stepped back, running a hand through your hair. You hated this—the way he was shutting you out, the way he looked like he wasn't even here anymore. He had left something behind at that school, and you didn't know if he was ever going to get it back.

But this was still Shane, right? The man who never backed down from a fight, who always looked like he could take on the new world. And yet, this afternoon, he had walked away from you. That alone told you enough.

"I just… I just wanna know you're okay. I'm coming in now."

Frowning, you reached for the handle, turning it slowly. The door wasn't locked. It creaked open, and the rush of warm, wet air hit you instantly. Your eyes landed on Shane's reflection in the fogged-up mirror. He was standing at the sink, shirtless, head bowed slightly, and his hands gripped the edges of the porcelain like he needed it to hold himself up.

Then, he moved.

One hand brushed over his scalp, his fingers running through his hair—and that's when you saw it. The red patch where something had been torn out. A bald and uneven spot.

Your breath hitched in your throat. "Shane, hey, let me—"

He turned around before you could finish, his eyes angry and wild. His chest rose and fell fast, like he'd been caught in the middle of something he wasn't ready to share.

"You shouldn't be in here."

You hesitated, then stepped fully inside anyway. "And you shouldn't be acting like this," you shot back, closing the door behind you.

"I'm okay."

"Bullshit."

Turning back to the mirror, his fingers tapped several times against the sink before he reached for something in a drawer—a razor. He turned it on without another word, shearing off his hair as fast as he could, keeping his eyes on his reflection the entire time.

You stepped closer, your voice softer now. "Hey… What happened out there?"

The razor stopped for half a second, his hand tightening around it. Then he continued, shaving off the last of his hair.

"I survived," he finally said. "Saved Carl."

But when you looked at him, you weren't sure if that was the whole truth.

Once he was done, he still hadn't moved. Hadn't spoken. Just stared at you through the mirror now, his expression unreadable.

"Shane?"

You took a careful step forward, and for the first time, you saw just how banged up he was. Bruises, fresh and ugly. Scratches covered his knuckles like he'd torn them open on something—or someone. And then there was still the bald spot.

It hadn't been cut; you knew that. It had been ripped out.

You swallowed, stepping closer.

"You know what happened," he then said. "I told y'all already."

"No." You tilted your head, eyes scanning his reflection. "You told Hershel. Told Rick. Lori. Maggie..."

"Same thing," he responded, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

"Is it?"

You hesitated before reaching out, fingers brushing lightly over one of the bruises, feeling him flinch under your touch.

"Shane," you whispered. "You're hurt."

"‘S nothing."

"It's not nothing." You frowned, moving closer, fingers trailing along the edge of the fresh bald spot. "Your hair…"

His lips parted like he was about to answer—but then he caught himself.

"Told you already," he responded again. His voice was angrier this time. "We got surrounded. We ran outta ammo. Otis said he'd cover me and told me to keep goin'. I did."

You studied him. His body language. His breathing. Everything. "That's what you said earlier."

"‘Cause that's what happened."

Something in his voice was off. The words were steady, but they seemed controlled. Too controlled.

"Otis pulled you up when you fell?" You asked carefully. "You said he wouldn't leave you behind?"

Shane's jaw twitched. "Yeah."

"And then he saved you?"

"He did what he had to do."

You narrowed your eyes. "Or what you had to do?"

Shane's eyes searched for yours in the mirror. Then, slowly, he turned. Face-to-face now, not just reflections.

"What are you askin' me?" He asked back, his voice quieter now. Rougher.

"I'm just trying to understand."

"Ain't nothin' to understand," he scoffed, shaking his head.

But you weren't so sure about that.

You had seen Shane lie before. Had seen the way his gaze looked away, avoiding any eye contact, the way his jaw clenched, the way his muscles tensed when he was trying too hard to keep himself in check, his fingers twitching and fumbling around.

And right now, he looked ready to snap.

"When Maggie gave you those clothes," you continued, "you… hesitated."

Shane's fingers flexed at his sides. "Yeah? So?"

"She said they were from Otis."

His jaw tightened.

"And?"

"And you looked like you were gonna be sick."

"I just watched that man get eaten alive!" He scoffed back at you. "‘Scuse me for not feelin' too good about wearin' his goddamn clothes!"

That was the moment. The exact moment.

Because Shane was a lot of things—reckless, violent, unpredictable—but guilt was never something he let show. And right now? Right now, you could see it in him.

Gnawing at him. Devouring him from the inside.

"Is that all it is?" You asked softly, tilting your head.

His eyes darkened. "What else would it be?"

You didn't answer.

Didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

Because you felt it now—the feeling as if he was drowning and dragging you down with him. It was like he was waiting for you to say something else, to push him, to call him out.

You swallowed, looking down at the floor. "You tell me… Shane."

For a moment, he looked like he might tell you. Like the truth was right there, right on his tongue.

But then?

Then his hand moved before you could react, fingers grabbing the back of your neck, gripping just tight enough to make you gasp in shock.

"Don't," he grumbled, his voice strained. "Just—don't."

"Don't what?" You asked in return but stopped as you felt how his grip tightened, just for a second.

Then his eyes looked down—to your mouth, to your throat, feeling the way your pulse was getting faster beneath his fingers.

Shane let out a deep, long, controlled breath through his nose, and when you looked up again, it wasn't guilt you saw in his expression anymore.

It was darkness.

Every inch of you burned with a fire you couldn't put out—couldn't escape.

And you couldn't deny it—the pull toward him, even though you knew it wasn't about you. Not entirely. You knew that.

But you also knew, deep down, that you couldn't look away. Couldn't walk away. Not now. Not with him so close. Not when you were this close to him.

His grip tightened around your neck, but not enough to hurt—just enough to remind you he was in control. In this moment, he was. His thumb moved along your jawline, his eyes following it.

You knew what had happened. You knew about Otis, about the cold, ruthless way he'd left him behind. About the betrayal—the choice he'd made because that's what Shane did. He made choices. And when they came back to haunt him, he'd just keep moving, keep fighting, keep pushing.

And you? You'd been there. Watching him. From the moment you met him at the Atlanta camp, where things were simpler. When you thought he was just another protector, another one of the good guys, looking after Lori, Carl, and the rest of the survivors.

A cop. A man of the law. A law that didn't exist anymore.

And you hadn't known. Not at first.

But you saw it after Rick showed up. The way Shane's eyes darkened every time Grimes came near. The way his fists clenched whenever Lori touched Rick, the way he looked so annoyed when Carl looked up at his father.

It was only after Rick appeared that you realized how far gone Shane was. How broken and lost he was.

But you'd always had a soft spot for him—maybe even more. He was a leader in your eyes, a protector, brave in ways that made you crave something stronger than just survival. But you had stayed in the background, never daring to get close, because you thought—no, this isn't your place and definitely not your time. In fact, you thought Lori was his, and Carl was his. That was the way it was supposed to be, wasn't it?

A family...

But that was before you realized how badly Shane was losing himself. You were right there, close enough to feel it and see it happen.

And the truth about Otis? You now knew what he'd done. You knew the truth about what happened in that school. And you knew, too, that he knew you knew.

The way Shane looked at you now, the way his lips barely parted, like he wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to—it told you everything.

And you weren't sure if it was that hatred or the dangerous pull of desire in the bathroom that made you reach for him.

No, you weren't sure.

But when your hand brushed the stubble on his jaw, you knew it didn't matter anymore. His fingers were on your skin again, gripping you harder this time, his thumb sliding across your lower lip as his eyes still looked at your mouth.

You couldn't stop yourself. You wanted him too much.

And maybe that made you just as dangerous as he was.

"You know what I did," Shane growled in your ear. "You know what happened."

You didn't have to answer as he finally pressed himself against you, forcing your back against the sink, the edge of it digging into you as he kissed you hard, almost painfully. His hands were everywhere, pulling you closer, making sure you couldn't escape, couldn't pull away.

"Shane, what—"

He kissed you deeper. His teeth grazed your lip, sharp and rough. The way his body moved against yours was desperate, almost needy, like he was trying to lose himself in you, to forget. Forget about Rick. Forget about Otis. Forget about everything.

"Shut up," he grumbled against your mouth.

Before you could speak, before you could even think, his lips pressed against yours once more—hot, forceful, sloppy.

It wasn't a kiss. It was a claim. A fast, desperate claim, his fingers now grabbing the back of your neck again, gripping hard enough to make you groan. He tasted like sweat, like fear, like something dark that had been rotting inside him since he came back from that school.

And he wasn't asking—he was taking.

Your hands moved up, instinctively pushing against his bare chest to shove him away, but his other hand grabbed at your hip, yanking you closer to him. There was no space between you, no time to catch your breath, just heat—his body burning into yours, his heartbeat hammering against you like it was trying to force its way next to yours.

You barely managed a muffled whine against his mouth, your fingers pressing harder into his chest, now trying to steady yourself, trying to get some control over the situation. But the second you made that soft, unsure sound, something in him broke.

Shane pulled away just enough to breathe, his forehead pressing against yours, his fingers tightening on your neck before moving them into your hair. His pupils were wide, his jaw clenched so tight you swore you could hear his teeth grinding.

"Don't do that," he whispered, voice wrecked and his breathing still uneven as his fingers twitched against your scalp. "Don't—don't sound like that..."

"Sound... like what?" Your voice was shaky and breathless, but he ignored the question.

Shane's mouth went to your throat, his teeth biting down just hard enough to make you suck in a shocked breath, while his stubble scratched against your skin as he sucked a mark just below your jaw. His breath came in heavy bursts like he was running.

Like he was chasing something.

"Shane—" You tried again, tried to reach for him, but then—fuck. You felt it.

Thick. Hard. Pressing against your lower belly through his pants, but your mind barely had time to process it before he growled.

Not a word. Not a warning. Just a single growl.

It sounded greedy. Like if you spoke again, if you tried to calm him down, to help him, he'd shatter.

But your mind was still trying to make sense of this, still trying to catch up to him. "Wait—Shane, what the hell—"

He didn't wait.

Shane turned you around in one quick move, his hands gripping your waist, bending you forward until you hit the sink again. Your reflection stared back at you in the mirror, lips swollen from his kiss, chest rising and falling in fast, uneven breaths.

You barely recognized yourself.

Your eyes—wide, glassy, uncertain.

And then there was him.

Shit...

You saw it. The look in his eyes.

Still dark. Dangerous. Gone.

His fingers dug into the waistband of your pants, and he yanked them down, dragging them a little too roughly over your thighs.

"Shane," you started once more, turning slightly, but the only response you got was the sound of his zipper.

No hesitation. No teasing. He wasn't playing with you.

He just looked... lost. Like a man breaking apart in real time.

Shane's hands slid lower, fingers moving over your naked hips, pulling you back against him, making you feel his leaking cock pressing between your thighs.

"Just—" You tried to talk to him again, your voice unsteady, but Shane's fingers tightened his grip.

A simple "No." was all he gave in return.

His fingers trembled near your waist as he lined himself up, his other hand gripping the back of your neck, keeping you steady. Keeping you there.

And when he saw the little bit of hesitation in your eyes, the uncertainty, his breath shuddered out of him.

It was all he needed.

Shane pushed into you.

Hard.

The force of it knocked the breath straight from your lungs, your mouth falling open in a choked cry. Your fingers searched for any kind of grip on the sink, nails slipping against the porcelain as your body jerked forward from the sheer strength of him.

"Fuck—!"

The word barely made it past your lips before his hands grabbed you harder—like he thought you might try to run away, like he needed to make sure you didn't.

There was nothing slow about it. Nothing soft.

Every thrust was deep, fast, and rough.

The mirror shook against the wall, rattling slightly with every movement, the glass only showing the wild look in his eyes.

And he was watching.

Watching everything.

His gaze stayed on the reflection—on you, on the way you took his cock, on the way your body trembled under him.

But he wasn't just looking at you.

He was looking at himself.

His face—miserable, paranoid, ruined.

Shane saw it… He remembered.

Otis' hand clawing at his hair.

The gunshot, the way the man's eyes were going wide in horror.

Fingers ripping at his scalp, a chunk of his hair tearing away as he fought. As he survived.

The veins in Shane's neck pulsed, every muscle in his body flexing as he pounded into you. Gritting his teeth, he fucked you even harder.

He tried to think about how every time he saw your face, every time you let him in, it felt like he was sinking into something he couldn't control. The desperation in his movements was a sign of how he needed to own this moment and drown out every haunting thought in his mind. The things he'd done, the things he couldn't undo.

But you were still there. Still with him. And that made everything… unbearable.

A quiet cry ripped itself free from your throat as he slammed into you, brutal and fast. Your pussy clenched around his cock, your breath breaking apart.

"Shane—" Your voice was a desperate plea, a moan half-swallowed by the force of him.

His hand shot up again, fingers wrapping tight around your throat from behind, but his grip wasn't painful, wasn't cruel—but it was a warning.

Every thrust of his hips pushed your body forward, forced your breath to hitch, and forced your mind to slip deeper into this, into him.

And still—he watched.

His reflection. Like he didn't want to recognize himself.

But he did. And he hated it.

Your mind thought back to the quarry again, remembering how different he was. Not soft—he was never soft—but something close to it. Protective. The kind of man who took charge, who got things done.

You remembered the way he kept the people together after the world fell apart. How he taught them to shoot, how he made sure the fires stayed lit, how he took the night shifts when no one else would.

You'd watched from the sidelines, keeping your distance, convincing yourself that the heat and tingling feeling in your stomach whenever he spoke to you was nothing. A crush, maybe?

Nothing serious.

Nothing real.

You weren't sure when it happened that your 'crush' turned into something more, something deeper. Maybe it was the way he always looked so confident, so sure of what needed to be done. Maybe it was the way he never waited when it came to protecting the people he cared about.

Maybe it was just him.

You weren't sure if he'd ever noticed.

But now?

"You watch me, don't you?" His voice was quieter now, rougher. "Always watchin'."

"Please, just—"

"Think I ain't noticed?" He was thrusting into you harder, deep enough to make you whimper. "Think I ain't seen you lookin'?"

Your skin burned beneath his touch.

"I—"

"Nah, nah, don't go lyin' to me now." He spanked your ass, hard enough to make you stop talking. "I know you, girl. Been knowin' you since Atlanta."

With you panting, he then continued.

"I remember, alright. You sittin' by the fire, sneakin' looks when you thought I wasn't payin' attention. I remember you askin' me to teach you how to shoot. Pretendin' you didn't know how to hold a gun so I'd stand behind you, get real close."

Your breath hitched. "That's not—"

"No? Tell me I'm wrong."

You didn't. Couldn't. Because he wasn't wrong, not at all.

"You still want me?" His voice was barely above a whisper now, strained and deep. "Even now?"

You swallowed hard.

The truth was, you did.

Even now. Even with the darkness behind his eyes, even knowing what he'd done, what he was capable of.

You still wanted him.

But for Shane, it was a dangerous question, one that would cut him open if you lied. He had to believe it—had to see it. You were still here, still taking him. Still needing him.

Your voice trembled, but it was the most haunting sound to him, beautiful and frightening at once. "Yes, yes… even now!"

The confession broke something in him. He groaned into your ear, unable to stop himself as his body moved in an almost feral rhythm. Every thrust was a plea; every sound leaving his lips was a question he was too afraid to answer.

And then? He moved.

You barely had a second to react before his hands were on you, his arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you upright, your back pressing against his sweaty chest. His other hand gripped your thigh, spreading you open as he kept moving, his cock still throbbing and buried deep.

"What the—!" The words came out as a yelp, a half-strangled moan, as he lifted you, his strength and size effortlessly keeping you close to him.

"Move." It wasn't a request. It was a demand.

Still inside you, stretching you open, he half-dragged, half-carried you toward the bathtub.

The bathroom was humid by now, steam clinging to the walls from the hot water as he reached past you, and within seconds, more water poured down on both of you.

"Fuck—!" You gasped, your body shivering against him.

He slammed you forward, pressing your hands against the bathroom wall, his strength keeping you right where he wanted you. The water soaked through the rest of your clothes, ran down his chest, over your breasts, and over the bald, burning spot of his scalp.

But Shane stopped all of a sudden.

You gasped as he froze inside you, his cock still pulsing, filling you to the hilt. His hands, so rough just a moment ago, softened their grip. One stayed on your waist, fingers trembling. The other moved—slowly—gliding up your body, moving over your wet shirt and your breasts, before stopping along your throat. But he wasn't grabbing it. He was just… feeling you.

His fingers twitched slightly at your throat before he pulled you closer, pressing his lips to the side of your neck. But this time, it wasn't hungry, wasn't bruising. It was soft. His lips parted, his tongue tasting the sweat and water on your skin, breathing you in.

Shane's nose trailed along your jaw, and then he turned your face gently toward his.

The kiss was barely a kiss at all at first—just the soft press of his mouth, like he needed to know you were real. His lips brushed against yours, rougher now, before fully kissing you deep, as if afraid.

"How many rounds you got left?"

The words didn't belong here.

Not to you.

But they were in his head. Again.

Loud. Too loud.

Shane's body tensed as his eyes flew open, staring at you—seeing you.

But he felt a hand ripping at his head once more, desperate fingers clawing at his head, tearing a piece of his hair away. He felt the gun in his hands, his finger on the trigger. He saw the look in Otis' eyes—that second of realization, of horror, of fear.

"I'm sorry."

The gunshot rang in his ears…

"Let go of me!"

He remembered the feeling of Otis pulling him down to the ground. The walkers getting closer, closer still…

His tender grip around your throat tightened, just enough to make your breath hitch. Just enough to pull him back into now, into you.

"Let go!"

He could still hear his voice screaming at Otis to let go. Still feel the fight, the panic, his nails digging harder into your wet skin.

For a second, he swore he saw blood—smeared all across the bathroom walls, running down his hands, and staining your skin.

But it wasn't there. And the quiet, the stillness—it was gone in an instant.

He yanked you back harder, forcing your back to arch as he slammed into you again. Gone was the hesitation, the tenderness.

It made your knees buckle as he pushed as deep as he could, his cock stretching you open some more, pressing against every sensitive, sore spot inside of you.

But as the water streamed down, it couldn't drown out the sounds filling the bathroom. The quiet whimpers from you. The ragged breaths. The deep groans from Shane.

"Fuck," he groaned, pressing your face roughly against the wall.

There you were—soaking wet, mouth open, eyes half-lidded, fucked, and your body trembling with every deep thrust.

And then there was him.

He was behind you. So strong, so tall, so big. Inside you.

But Shane didn't blink. He didn't look away. He still watched.

Watched the way you took him, watched his cock disappear inside your pussy, watched the way his fingers dug into your wet, trembling body.

He was fucking you like he needed this—like if he stopped, he'd have to feel something else.

Shame? Guilt?

And he wasn't ready for that. He needed to push away the thoughts in his mind. Needed to forget.

"Please—" Your voice broke between uneven breaths, barely more than gasps.

But the way you said it—breathless, needy—fuck. It nearly killed him.

His thrusts turned faster, harder, driving himself so deep you swore you could feel him in your guts.

"Shit," he growled. "Fuckin'—"

He cut himself off with a groan, dropping his forehead to your shoulder for a moment before pulling back, teeth biting down into your skin as if nothing else mattered anymore.

Only the desperate, broken moans leaving your lips.

Only him.

Only this.

Shane's breath hitched, his chest pressing against your back as he moved, changing the angle. Your head snapped up, eyes flying open, your hands desperately trying to hold onto the wet wall as the new position had him hitting even deeper.

Shane knew he wasn't supposed to care about that.

But seeing you like that? Seeing you lose yourself in him?

"Doin' so fuckin' good," he growled into your ear, kissing your neck before his hand wrapped around it again.

"You feel that?" He panted, his other hand holding you steady, pulling you harder against him. "See how fuckin' good you look takin' my cock? Talk to me."

Your mind was spinning—still trying to process how the hell you got here, how fast it happened, how good he felt inside you. But Shane—he needed you.

"C'mon, girl," he growled, his lips touching your ear. "Need to hear you."

He didn't just mean the moans. He wanted more. Wanted words.

Wanted to drown in them—let them pull him under until all that was left was this. You. The feeling of your body wrapped around him, squeezing him, taking him.

Another thrust, deep and brutal, knocked a silent cry from your lips. Your fingers dug into the slippery wall, struggling for any kind of grip.

"I—" Your voice was trembling. "Shane—"

"Nah, baby, not my name," he laughed out loud, shaking his head before his teeth bit the skin of your neck to make you whimper. "Tell me what you feel when I'm fuckin' you like this… when I'm making you feel this good."

The way he was talking, you barely recognized him. He was different now. Not the Shane from Atlanta. Not the Shane who always had a way of joking around and keeping the group together.

This was someone else entirely.

Someone who had blood on his hands.

Hell, you weren't sure you even cared.

Your body burned for him. Your skin was on fire where he touched you, his hands claiming you like he could fuck himself so deep inside you that his sins would just disappear.

"I—" You tried again, but your voice broke when he rolled his hips against you just right, his cock pressing into that one spot that made your legs shake.

"Say it." His hand slid up, fingers grabbing your soaked hair. He pulled your head back, forcing you to look into his eyes.

He wanted to see it. See you say it.

You swallowed, your lips parting, your voice breathy and weak. "Yes, yes! You feel so good inside me!"

Shane choked out a grunt so raw it sounded like a personal kind of prayer. A plea to save him from himself.

But whatever last bit of restraint he had left? Gone.

"Tell me I'm the only one who can make you feel this way," he grunted, his voice turning quieter. "I know you've been wantin' this. Been wantin' me."

You moaned, your knees nearly giving out, the water from the bathtub streaming down your back, soaking into your clothes.

"F-Fuck," you stammered, barely able to breathe, barely able to form any reasonable thought with the way he was wrecking you, your pussy clenching so tightly around him.

"Shane—"

Wrong answer… His grip on your hair tightened, punishing.

"Tell me."

Your breath hitched.

"Only you can make me feel like this," you whimpered, breathing weakly. "Only. You."

Shane groaned like you'd just stabbed a knife into his heart, his forehead pressing against the back of your head for half a second before his mouth was near your ear again, only for him to drag you out of the bathtub, his hands holding you still.

You gasped, and before you could fully adjust, he was backing up, pulling you with him.

"Push back, baby, push back—let me show you," Shane growled as he backed you both up against the bathroom wall, his back hitting it with urgency as you were forced to face the mirror above the sink. It was still foggy, steamy like the room, but still clear enough for you to see the way he took you—hard, fast, with no hesitation.

Without any warning, his thrusts became brutal.

Shane was fucking into you like a man possessed, like if he stopped for even a second, every memory would come back.

"Shit—look at you," he smirked, one hand sliding down, pressing against your lower belly. "You feel me right there, baby?"

Your fingers clenched into fists, your eyes looking slowly toward the mirror.

The sight of it all… You, your skin red from the warmth of the hot water, dripping wet, trembling against his strong chest.

And him, wild-eyed, brutal, desperate...

The way his cock disappeared into you over and over again, the way he stretched you open—it made you clench around him harder.

"Shit," Shane gasped. "You like that, huh? Like seein' how fuckin' good I'm stretchin' you out?"

"Y-Yes—"

His fingers dug into your trembling flesh.

"Gonna come for me, baby?"

You tried to nod, tried to breathe. You couldn't see the mirror anymore—your vision blurred, your body on fire and burning in his arms. All you could focus on was the way he was fucking you, the way he was making you feel.

"Fuckin' say it," he growled.

"I—I'm gonna come," you cried out in return as his thrusts became sloppier, pounding faster into you.

And then—your whole body tensed. Your moans came out sobbing, your pussy clenching so tight around his cock that Shane choked on his next groan.

"F-Fuck, fuck," he stuttered, his hips bucking, making you feel him twitch and throb.

He lost himself.

His cock pulsed inside you, buried deep as he came, his hips pressing hard against your ass.

But Shane didn't move after he was done. He didn't pull out. He just stayed there, deep inside you, his breathing all uneven, his chest rising and falling against your back, holding you close.

For a moment, he didn't feel like he was drowning.

For a moment, he wasn't Shane Walsh.

He was just this—just a man, a man feeling your body so close to him, a man feeling the way his muscles ached from how hard he'd taken you.

Shane then let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead to your back.

He should've said something.

Should've talked about what just happened.

Should've let you know he was still there. That he was still himself.

But he didn't. Instead, he just gripped your hips—steadying himself.

It wasn't enough. Nothing would be.

As Shane exhaled through his nose, long and slow, he was finally—finally—pulling out. The loss of him sent another shiver through you and left you feeling empty in a way you couldn't even explain.

And still, he said nothing.

You turned, water dripping from your body as you tried to look into his eyes, but he was already moving—grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat and water from his face.

"Shane... This—" Your voice was hoarse and shaky, and you weren't even sure what you wanted to say.

Are you really okay?

Was this just a distraction?

What the hell was this?

So many questions...

But he didn't react to the sound of your voice.

You reached down for your wet clothes, trying to shove your pants back up, your movements frantic and quick. When you risked another glance at him, he still wasn't looking at you.

He was staring into the mirror. His shoulders tense, his chest still rising and falling, sweat dripping down his naked chest.

But Shane's face? Shane's face looked haunted.

His jaw clenched, so you tried again, softer this time. "Hey..."

Nothing.

He just turned, reaching for the towel again, and wiped it over his chest, his shoulders, and along his arms.

The bathroom felt suffocating by now, not for him, but for you—hot steam and cold silence tormenting you from all sides.

And just when you were about to give up—just when you were stepping toward the door…

"I didn't mean to."

You stopped as the words came out of him, hollow and quiet—like a confession meant for no one, yet meant for everything.

He didn't mean to—what?

You never turned back to ask.

Instead, you pulled open the door and stepped out—out of the suffocating heat—only to be hit with something colder once you walked down the stairs.

A silence far worse than the one in the bathroom.

And you felt it. Those stares.

Rick. Lori. Maggie. Glenn.

All of them…

Standing there, just beyond the door where Carl was still recovering, thanks to Hershel, their conversations had stopped the second you stepped into view.

Their eyes looked at you—at your wet clothes clinging to your skin, the water still dripping from your hair, the red marks already showing along your neck and throat.

No one spoke. No one dared to say a word.

But the silence wasn't empty; it was hanging like a storm cloud over the entire room.

Rick's eyes narrowed, the muscles in his cheeks twitching, while Lori's lips parted just a bit, her eyebrows furrowing like she wanted to say something—like she wanted to ask, but knew the answer already.

Glenn quickly looked away, his face turning red as if he were the one caught in something he shouldn't have seen.

And Maggie? She just blinked. Not judging. Not surprised. Just watching you with her red, swollen eyes from crying.

You swallowed hard, forcing your chin up, calming down your breath. Then, with a final step forward, you kept walking toward the front door, not wanting to talk. It wasn't necessary.

Meanwhile, the bathroom door upstairs remained shut.

And inside?

Inside, Shane stood motionless in front of the mirror—staring at himself, watching his reflection drown in the fog.

He didn't mean to…

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changetyre · 10 months ago

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My weakness II Mafia!Lando Norris x Reader Ⓢ

SUMMARY: Lando is a man known to be cold, unfeeling, overflowing in strength and composure...except when it comes to you.

WARNINGS: Assault, Blood, inaccurate medical terms, not proofread.

A/N: This is something I posted over on Wattpad a few days ago, thought you guys might want to start seeing some for fluff rather than pure smut ;)

It was a miracle you were walking down the streets on your own right now...well partially. Lando had been obliged to fly over to territory 55 after a business deal had gone wrong with his partner who urgently needed his assistance.

Lando hated leaving you alone even if it was for short periods of time just hating the feeling of not being able to protect you himself. Nevertheless, he reluctantly had to sometimes and he wasn't one to force you to go with him everywhere especially if he knew he would be putting you in more danger around him.

For this specific instance, he had needed to fly for a few days and it had taken a whole lot of begging over the phone for him to let you leave the house to go shopping, a treat for yourself (and a little for him). He only agreed because he had your location on your phone but also as long as you agreed that his best man Max Fewtrell would accompany you.

The day had been wonderful for you, Max wasn't sure how much longer he could stand at another store watching you try on what felt like hundreds of pieces of clothing only for you to walk out with just 1 piece or none at all.

His feet were aching more than they would when he went on a mission and he was about ready to force you back home if it weren't for the stores closing that forced you to finally call it a day.

You were walking to the car, Max a few steps ahead of you as he worked to get all the multiple shopping bags and boxes into the car. His struggle to do so distracted him enough not to notice the other eyes in the empty parking lot.

Max heard you scream but by the time he turned around and drew his gun you were already down on the ground badly beaten, Max could only watch as the men delivered their last few kicks and punches before they scrambled disappearing in the night.

Max attempted taking shots but they were futile as they ran in multiple directions and instead he focused on you instead of running after whoever they were. He saw a note left beside your beaten body.

Max picked you up getting you in the car to quickly drive you to the hospital as you groaned in pain trying to make sense of what had just happened.

"Max don't tell-" You struggled to breathe properly.

"Shh don't hurt yourself." Max was stern, he knew what you were going to say and he also knew he wasn't going to listen.

"Don't tell Lando." You finished feeling as though this wasn't bad enough to have him fly back and panic over you.

Max sees as you're wheeled in, panic filling his face at the amount of blood he can see down your face and body. At the hospital, apart from a few cuts and bruises to the rest of your body it's determined you have a mild fracture to your skull and you required a few stitches to a medium-sized gash to your head, explaining the large amounts of blood.

You fail to recall at what point you'd lost consciousness or been put to sleep as you woke up to see Max on the couch next to you, his leg jittering nervously, his phone in one hand and his head in the other hand.

"Max, are you okay?" You ask him, his head popping up and his eyes meeting yours, a wave of relief flooding them.

"NURSE!" Max screams out.

"Ouch." You grab your head as Max's loudness makes your head pound.

"Sorry." He gritted his teeth guiltily. "You get attacked and you ask me if I'm okay?" Max stifles a laugh.

You shrug. "Are you?" You ask again.

"I'm fine...lucky for me he's decided to take his anger out on the poor nurses and doctors." He shakes his head.

"He? Max I-" A nurse comes in interrupting you, she explains everything to you, and checks your vitals before finally walking outside.

You're about to engage in conversation with Max again when Lando runs into the room.

"Y/n?!" He calls out, desperation and panic audible in his voice.

"You called him?! I told you not to." You turned to Max.

"He'd kill me if I hadn't." He argued back.

"He's right...if he wasn't like family he'd be dead already." Lando replied so nonchalantly it made a shiver run through your body. Lando walked towards you, a frown on his face as he looked at the bandage around your head.

"Baby it wasn't his-" you were gonna speak.

"Who did this?" He looked at Max, you could see the ridiculous amount of anger in his eyes, his lips in a slight pout as he tried to keep it together and his breath incredibly heavy as if he'd just ran a marathon.

"Lan-" you tried calling him again.

"WHO?!!" He repeated himself to Max.

"They left this." Max handed him the note that was left beside you.

You saw Lando's eyes darken as he read the words. "Gather the men. Call 3, 16, 33, and 81. I want them dead." He instructed Max.

"Yes." Max didn't argue as he left the room, his phone already dialing.

"Lando-" another failed attempt.

"Did you see their faces?" He turned back to you.

"LANDO!" You raised your voice finally getting him to stop.

You grabbed your head, the volume and sudden jerk of your neck making it soar.

"Darling" Lando panicked when he saw your grabbing your head. "I'll call the nurse-"

You cupped his cheek before he could turn back around. You made him look at you. "Baby I'm okay." You spoke softly.

Lando let out a shaky breath he didn't realize he was holding, his shoulders visibly relaxing. It appeared that his efforts to keep it together were expiring.

His breathing started becoming irregular as he tried his best not to break down in front of you. He tried to quietly grasp for air that he didn't seem to be able to find.

"Lando take a deep breath." Your hands moved to his once you realized he was shaking, you gave them a tight squeeze.

"I can't..." he tried to suck in air. "I can't breathe" you could see him starting to panic.

"Lando breathe with me, baby." I grabbed one of his hands placing it on my chest, my hand tightly over his as I placed the other on his own chest. "Breath in."

He did as I told him.

"Breathe out." His breaths began matching mine.

We repeated this a few times.

"You're okay baby...I'm okay." Once I saw him calm enough I pulled his face closer to mine leaning his forehead against mine. "I'm okay."

He closed the space kissing you softly.

"This is my worst nightmare-" a few tears escaped his eyes.

"I know baby...I know..." I pulled him into a much-needed hug from both of us. His embrace was tight against me but still not as tight as it normally would be, like he was afraid to break me.

"I can't..." his voice broke. "I can't lose you." He whispered to you.

This time you placed a kiss on his lips. "You're not going to. I'm okay I promise."

"I won't let them touch you ever again," Lando promised as he rubbed your cheek with his thumb lovingly.

"I know." You didn't doubt him one bit.

#f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #changetyre #f1 one shot #f1fic #formula 1 #f1mafia #mafiaau #f1mafiaau #f1 scenario #lando norris mafia #lando norris fic #lando norris x reader

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reikoknshii · 1 year ago

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🩸 scarlet..milk? 🥛

Doppelganger Francis Mosses (Milkman) x Reader

500+ words

Requested by; @FoxxyyThePirateFox in wattpad

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

You're a newly Hired Doorman for a Apartment thats owned by D.D.D. It'll be fine, well thats what the D.D.D. operators said to you before you get started.

You opened the list of residents thats supposed to arrive.

' Angus Ciprianni '

' Nacha Mikaelys '

' Izaack Gauss '

' Arnold Schmicht '

'I can do this...i think?' You said to yourself as you breathed in and out before opening the metal door.

First thing to arrive shocked you, Its those twin models whom you saw in the magazine.Except...they only had a Giant Razor teeth on their face.

You didn't spend a minute to check their Documents as their appearance already proved they're not the real ones. You immediately click the emergency button and called the D.D.D. cleaning services.

"Does that mean ill...have to face more of those?" You asked to yourself as this job surely need intense observation, you don't want to let one in and let it kill the innocent lives of the apartment residents.

═════════•°•⚠️•°•═════════

You've seen... 4 doppelgangers that look horrifying, except for one, The Peach guy seem abit scary but they only said peach and nothing more.

You checked the list and hoped the one's you let in are the actual resident, you don't want to die just yet by your stupid decisions and weak observation.

You slump to your seat and groaned on the files you're holding. "Almost time, just a few more guest and ill close the entrance" you reassured yourself as you composed a brave and determined look.

"Mm...hello"

A voice said as you look up from the files and almost dropped it. "JESUS- WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?-"

you questioned the milkman who stayed silent for abit before answering. "I seem to have covered myself with scarlet milk..mm.."

You dart your eyes on his ID and Entry request, as he stared intensely at you through the protected glass window.

"I...never heard of it" you said nervously about the 'Scarlet milk'.

"I assure you...its a better version of the milk we had" he said creepily as he showed a jug of a red substance labeled as 'Milk'. He smiled in an eerie way as you shivered in fear , getting goosebumps from his behavior.

"I seriously dont think thats milk-"

Your eyes went wide as he opens the jug of scarlet 'milk' and drinks it in front of you. The substance dripped from his mouth to his neck , he pulled the jug away and smiled widely through the protected glass window. The so called milk staining more of his milkman uniform as he slammed his fist on the window.

"L̸̖̽̌͂ẹ̿͋̒̕t̲̂̓ͩ̑ ḿ̬̏ͤͅẹ̿͋̒̕ ỉ͔͖̜͌ṇ̤͛̒̍.."

You shrieked in fear as you slammed the emergency button from his creepy behavior, you were sure thats not the real Francis Mosses. The metal cover shut in front of him as he repeatedly bang his fist on the covers.

"Ỵ̛̖͋͢/ṇ̤͛̒̍...l̙͖̑̾ͣẹ̿͋̒̕t̲̂̓ͩ̑ ḿ̬̏ͤͅẹ̿͋̒̕ ỉ͔͖̜͌ṇ̤͛̒̍, l̙͖̑̾ͣẹ̿͋̒̕t̲̂̓ͩ̑ ḿ̬̏ͤͅẹ̿͋̒̕ ỉ͔͖̜͌ṇ̤͛̒̍...L̸̖̽̌͂Ḛͭ̉̇͟T̨͈͗̌ͥ M͉̅ͮ͒ͤḚͭ̉̇͟ I̍̅̀̎̊N̺̻̔̆ͅ" said the doppelganger as you called the D.D.D. cleaning Services immediately out of fear.

═════════•°•⚠️•°•═════════

You were shaken by the current occurrences, your eyes darting everywhere from the window as your hour of work shift ends. You closed the metal cover and got out of the office you're in, on the entrance window you see the blood covered jug on the floor and a small note...

"I'm watching you...."

#francis mosses #that's not my neighbor #thats not my neighbor #the milkman #themilkman #tnmn #x reader #francis mosses x reader #oneshot #wattpad #Doppelganger Francis

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lefteagleblizzard · 6 months ago

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𝔍𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫

Mike Munroe x male reader

Summary: At the lodge, your friendly chat with Matt sparks Mike's jealousy. In the woods, he finally confesses his feelings, igniting a passionate connection between you and him, culminating months of hidden desire.

Tags: Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Oblivious reader. Friends to lovers. Jealousy. Emily is hostile to the reader. Mike and Jess are not together in this. Smut out in the open. Gay smut. Top Mike munroe. Bottom male reader. Blowjob (r giving). Anal sex.

ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

Words count: 4500

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

The cold mountain air bit at your skin as you trudged up the snow-covered road toward the lodge. A chill ran through you, and you tugged your jacket tighter, glancing around at the quiet landscape. Your boots crunched softly against the thick blanket of snow with each step.

You didn't hear it at first, but you felt a presence behind you and soon two large, warm hands suddenly covered your eyes. You froze for a split second, your heart leaping into your throat as a familiar voice whispered in your ear, low and teasing.

"Guess who?"

For a second, you were caught off guard and frightened, but then, just as quickly, you let yourself relax, recognizing the rough feel of his calloused hands, the deep timbre of his voice, and the warmth radiating from his body as he stood close behind you. His chest was almost touching your back.

Mike.

Of course, it was Mike.

You sighed, half-exasperated, half-amused, and leaned back slightly against his chest, letting the warmth of his body seep into yours. With a gentle push, you pried his hands away from your eyes and spun around to face him.

"Real subtle" you said, shaking your head as you met his eyes.

He chuckled, his breath visible in the cold air. "Hey, it worked, didn't it? You jumped, so I won."

"You're an idiot," you retorted, though your tone was more playful than annoyed.

Mike shrugged, his grin widening. "Yeah, but I'm your favorite idiot”

You shot him a quick glance, unsure if you'd imagined the shift in his tone, but the playful grin on his face remained, as if daring you to respond.

"You really are full of yourself, huh?" you teased, hoping to mask the sudden warmth blooming in your chest.

Mike grinned wider, clearly unfazed. "Someone's gotta be, right? Besides, it's fun getting reactions out of you."

"Yeah, well, enjoy it while it lasts," you muttered, trying to sound casual, but your heart was racing.

Mike chuckled again, his tone softening as his gaze lingered on you. "You look good, by the way," he said, almost offhandedly. "Really good."

You opened your mouth to respond but faltered for a moment, unsure how to take the compliment without overanalyzing it.

"Thanks," you muttered, trying to play it cool. "You're not so bad yourself."

"Not so bad?" Mike echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Come on, I know I look better than 'not so bad’ “

You rolled your eyes again, but you couldn't stop the grin from spreading across your face. "Okay, fine. You look good, Monroe."

He flashed you a cocky grin, clearly pleased with himself. "That's more like it." His voice was smooth, laced with the kind of playfulness he always reserved for you. He was standing closer than usual, his gaze unwavering. You cleared your throat, trying to break the tension.

"So, how are things with Emily?" you asked, your voice slightly shaky.

Mike's smirk faltered for just a second, he ran a hand through his hair, glancing away before looking back at you. "We broke up."

You blinked, surprised. "Oh... I didn't know. Sorry."

You had already an idea of why it might have happened.

"Nah, don't be," he said with a casual shrug, though there was a heaviness in his tone that betrayed his words. "It wasn't working out."

The ease in his voice didn't quite match the tightness in his jaw, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of guilt for bringing it up.

"Besides," he added, stepping a little closer, "I'm single now."

His voice was low, almost suggestive.

He glanced at you, trying to gauge your reaction. A part of him wanted to see something, anything in your expression that hinted you cared about his relationship status, that maybe you were glad he was no longer with Emily. He didn't know if he could ever tell you how much he'd thought about you while he was with her.lo

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the scent of his cologne mixing with the crisp mountain air. There was something about the way he was looking at you that made your pulse race and your thoughts blur.

You both continued talking, light and casual conversations together and Mike's thoughts were only on you. How good you looked standing there, snowflakes clinging to your hair, your cheeks flushed from the cold. How amazing it felt when you'd leaned back against him earlier, even if it was just for a second. He'd wanted to hold you there, to wrap his arms around you and never let go.

He caught himself glancing at your lips more than once, wondering what it would feel like to kiss you right here, right now, in the middle of the snowy mountain. To show you, finally, how much he cared, how perfect things could be between the two of you if you'd just let h

But he hadn't said anything yet. Not because he didn't want to, but because... well, because he wasn't sure how you felt. He'd never seen you with anyone else. Sure, you were always friendly, always laughing, but he didn't know if that meant anything more.

So, instead of saying what he really wanted to, Mike kept the conversation light, teasing you, making you laugh and you shot back with your own sarcastic retorts.

Eventually the moon was already high in the sky and it got dark really quickly. You started making your way up to the lodge together, racing on who could arrive first.

When you both arrived at the lodge, the warmth of the fire greeted you, along with the sound of your friends chatting and getting settled in

Mike scanned the room, spotting a seat on the couch. He dropped down into it, stretching his arms out, hoping—praying—that you'd sit next to him. It was still cold, and having you close would have been perfect.

"Come on," he called, patting the empty spot next to him. "I saved you a seat."

You rolled your eyes, shrugging off your coat and getting rid of the snow stuck in your hair. "How generous."

"Hey, I don't offer my couch space to just anyone," he replied with a wink. "Consider yourself special."

You shook your head, laughing softly as you made your way toward him. But just as you were about to sit down, you noticed Matt struggling to carry a mountain of bags. One of the suitcases slipped from his grasp, and without thinking, you stepped over to help him, bending down to pick it up.

"Thanks, man," Matt said with a sheepish grin, adjusting the rest of the bags. "I swear, Emily packed like we're staying for a month."

You chuckled, handing him the suitcase. "No problem. Need any more help?"

"Nah, I think I've got it now," Matt replied. "But I appreciate it. How was the drive up here?" Matt asked, shifting one of the bags in his arms. "Did you come up with anyone?”

"Nah, I came up solo," you replied, shrugging. "It was a nice drive though, peaceful"

"Yeah, I get that. I bet it's nice to have some quiet," Matt said, nodding in agreement. "Emily barely let me get a word in the whole ride. Nonstop talking."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Sounds like a nightmare."

The two of you exchanged a few more words, just casual small talk. Mike' eyes narrowed as he watched the exchange, his jaw tightening. You were talking to Matt, laughing with him, and it bothered him more than he was willing to admit.

The way you smiled at him and the way Matt's eyes lingered on you made Mike's blood boil.

He sat back on the couch, his arms spread out across the cushions, his body language as casual as he could manage.

His fingers drummed impatiently on the armrest, the cold air from outside still lingering in the room, but the warmth of the fire did little to chase away the chill in Mike's mood. He wanted to be near you. Hell, he wanted you sitting next to him right now, your body close to his. The couch had more than enough room, and he'd made sure to stretch out, hoping you'd notice and join him. But instead you kept chatting up with Matt.

It wasn't fair. How could you not see what was happening? How could you not see how much it bothered him? How much did he wanted you? He had spent the whole walk up to the lodge teasing and flirting, practically laying his feelings bare, and yet you were there, caught up in conversation and acting the same way you did with him.

Matt's hand lingered just a little too long as he reached out to take the suitcase back from you and Mike's fingers curled into fists, his jaw tight as he tried to keep his cool.

"So, are you thinking about moving soon?" Matt asked, setting the bags down all together in a spot. "Or are you staying put for a while?"

"I've been thinking about it," you said, nodding. "It'd be nice to have a little more space, you know?"

Mike's grip on the couch tightened, his knuckles turning white. Moving? Why hadn't you mentioned that to him? And why the hell were you telling Matt about it?

Matt smiled, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I get that. More space is always nice. Have you thought about getting a roommate?"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Maybe, but for now, I'm good with my own space."

Mike's stomach churned at that. Good with your own space? He had been thinking about how to get closer to you, how to spend more time with you, and you were chatting with Matt about moving and staying solo.

Just as Mike was about to get up and interrupt the conversation, the door swung open, and Emily stormed in, her eyes zeroing in on you and Matt.

"Didn't take you long to start flirting" Emily sneered, crossing her arms over her chest as she approached you and Matt.

Matt looked bewildered, the expression in his face telling you that he knew something you had no clue of. "Emily, it's not like that-"

"Right in front of me? Really, Matt? And with him?" She jabbed a finger in your direction.

You blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Emily's eyes blazed with fury as she took another step closer, her voice rising. "Don't play innocent. You think I didn't notice?"

Your brows furrowed in confusion as your brain tried to make sense of her words. "What?"

"You heard me," Emily snapped, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes cold and accusatory. "I arrive a bit late and you're already cozying up to him. You couldn't wait, could you? You can't stand to see me with anyone, can you?"

Matt tried to intervene, raising his hands defensively. "Em, come on. He's just helping me out-"

"Stay out of it, Matt," Emily snapped, not even bothering to look at him. "This is between me and him."

"Me?" You were taken aback, genuinely baffled by her sudden hostility. "I didn't do anything."

"Didn't do anything?" she scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Right. You're so innocent. Always playing the victim, pretending like you don't know what's going on."

Everyone was watching the scene unfold with varying degrees of tension and discomfort. Jessica, sitting by the fireplace, leaned forward slightly, her brows raised in interest. She exchanged a glance with Ashley, who was seated on the arm of the couch beside Chris. Both of them looked uneasy, but there was a flicker of recognition in their eyes. It was as if they knew something had been bubbling beneath the surface for a while, and now it was finally spilling over.

Sam has been sitting near the fireplace, quietly observing, her usual calm demeanor now tinged with a hint of concern. She was the one who had always noticed things others didn't. She has seen the looks Mike had given you, those quick glances that lingered a little too long, the way his whole body seemed to shift when you entered a room.

"You always had to have everything, didn't you?" Emily continued, stepping closer until she was practically in your face. "It wasn't enough that you had to get Mike wrapped around your finger, now you're going after Matt too?"

"Emily, that's not what's happening," you protested, trying to maintain your calm despite the rising tension.

"Don't lie to me," she hissed, jabbing a finger into your chest, her voice cracked slightly, though her bitterness held strong. "God, you probably loved every second of it, didn't you? Just waiting for me to get out of the way so you could swoop in. It's pathetic."

Was she even talking about Matt at this point?

You opened your mouth to respond, but the venom in her words made it hard to get a word in. Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. It was as if all of her insecurities, all of her anger and hurt, were being poured out in this moment, directed squarely at you.

"I never tried to get between you and Mike."

"Oh, right, because it's totally normal for you to be all buddy-buddy with my boyfriend—"

"Ex-boyfriend," you corrected, your tone sharp now.

"Don't get smart with me. You might fool everyone else, but I know what's going on."

"You really want to know why i think Mike left you?" you asked, finally meeting her gaze. She wasn’t the only one with the privilege to say her thoughts. "It wasn't because of me. It was because you couldn't stop being a controlling, manipulative—"

"Watch it," Emily warned, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Her finger jabbed into your chest again, harder this time.

Josh stepped forward, his voice cutting through the thick tension like a knife. "Alright, alright, can we all just take it down a notch?" he said, his usual easy-going grin plastered on his face, but there was an edge to his voice. "This is not why we came here. This is not... helping. If we can’t get along for 10 minutes then we need a little bit of a break, right?"

Emily shot him a glare but didn't argue.

"Mike," Josh said, turning his attention to the brooding figure standing silently by the couch. "Why don’t you check out the guest cabin? The one I told you about."

Mike, still seething, nodded stiffly. "Yeah. Sure."

But before he left, he grabbed your arm, pulling you with him. "Come on," he muttered, his voice low and tense. "Let's go.””

The grip he had on your arm was firm, almost too tight. He seemed angry, and you could feel the heat of his frustration radiating off him as he pulled you out of the lodge.

The cold air hit your face immediately. The heavy wooden door creaked behind you as it closed, and you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, feeling the chill set in. You glanced over at Mike, expecting some kind of lighthearted comment regarding what has happened. He remained silent however, his jaw tight as he walked ahead of you, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket.

You sped up slightly to catch up to him, your breath visible in the cold air. "Hey, thanks again for stepping in back there," you said, hoping to ease the awkwardness that had settled between you. "I thought she was gonna tear my head off."

Mike barely glanced your way, his eyes fixed on the snow-covered path ahead. "Yeah," he muttered, his voice flat. "No problem."

The curt response caught you off guard.

"Come on," you tried again, forcing a chuckle. "It's not every day someone gets accused of breaking up a relationship they weren't even part of. I should be charging for that kind of drama."

Mike let out a short, humorless laugh, but it felt forced, and he didn't even look at you.

You watched him carefully as he walked ahead of you, his shoulders tense, his stride a little more aggressive than usual as his boots crunched heavily through the snow.

"Okay, seriously," you said, picking up your pace again to keep up with him. "What's going on with you?

Mike didn't respond immediately, and you could see the way his jaw tightened as he pressed on, his eyes focused on the path ahead.

"You're not secretly plotting revenge on Emily, are you? Because I'm not sure I'm up for a 'Revenge of the Ex' scenario tonight. My ears would bleed if I have to hear her whine again"

Mike's lips twitched slightly, but he didn't say a word, his eyes locked straight ahead. It was like you weren't even there, and the silence between you was becoming suffocating.

You let out a frustrated sigh, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets to ward off the cold. "You know, this silent treatment thing? Not your best look. Seriously, you're acting like I kicked your puppy or something."

Still, nothing. Mike's footsteps crunched against the snow as he moved toward the metal gate blocking the path ahead, his movements jerky and impatient. Mike tugged on the latch, trying to force it open, but the gate stayed stubbornly in place.

"No power," you reminded him, trying to keep your voice light. "The generator should be nearby by"

With a growl of frustration, Mike yanked on the gate harder, the metal clanking loudly in the quiet night. He muttered something under his breath, clearly losing patience as he tried again, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the cold metal.

"Goddammit," he cursed under his breath, giving the gate one more angry shove, but it didn't budge. The clang echoed through the trees, and he stepped back, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to rein in his temper.

You blinked, watching him in stunned silence for a moment. "Mike," you said cautiously, stepping toward him. "What's going on?“

Mike didn't turn to face you immediately. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"Bullshit," you shot back, crossing your arms. "You're not fine. You've barely said two words to me, and now you're trying to rip a gate off its hinges. Come on. Talk to me. What's really bothering you?"

Mike finally looked up at you then, but the look in his eyes wasn't what you were expecting. Mike's jaw tightened, his frustration bubbling over as he finally spoke, his voice rougher than intended. "Do you even know what Emily was talking about?"

Your eyes widened slightly, and Mike hated the uncertainty that flashed across your face. He should have said something sooner.

"God, you really don't see it, do you?" He stopped pacing, standing still in front of you, his eyes locked onto yours. "I've had a thing for you for... I don't even know how long. But I never said anything because I thought maybe I could push it down. If I ignored it long enough, i thought it'd go away."

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, but he continued talking and gave you no time to respond. "But it never did. And then seeing you with Matt, it just... it fucking killed me, okay?"

"Mike..." you began, but he cut you off, stepping closer, his eyes burning with intensity.

"I'm tired of pretending," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I don't want to hide it anymore.”

The weight of his confession hung in the air. You had never expected that Mike, of all people, had been harboring these kinds of feelings for you.

He backed you up until your back hit a tree behind you, the rough bark cold against your jacket, his hands gripping your shoulders as his body pressed against yours. "You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he growled, his breath hot against your lips.

His lips crashed against yours in a heated, desperate kiss. The force of it caught you off guard, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you kissed him back, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

He pinned you against the tree, his larger frame hovering over yours as his tongue pushed past your lips. Your legs parted instinctively, allowing him to settle between them.

You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, the fabric of his jeans doing little to hide how hard he was for you.

Your soft moans only spurred him on, the sound sending a rush of heat through his veins. Mike's lips moved from your neck to your collarbone, then lower still, trailing a line of kisses down your chest as his hands slid beneath your shirt.

"How long?" you managed to ask between ragged breaths. "How long have you had a thing for me?"

Mike groaned against your skin, his teeth grazing your neck as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His voice was rough, almost guttural, as he admitted, "Too fucking long." His fingers dug into your hips.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice trembling with sincerity. "I didn't know... I didn't see it."

You had been oblivious to all of this. The guilt gnawed at you, and you felt the need to make it right, to show Mike just how much you regretted not noticing, not acting sooner.

Your hands moved down his body, fingers sliding under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin. Mike inhaled sharply at your touch, his breath catching as you began to undo the button on his jeans.

He looked down at you, confusion flickering in his eyes for a moment as you knelt in front of him. The snow beneath you crunched satisfyingly with your movements. "What are you doing?" His voice was low, unsure but curious.

You glanced up at him, your hands deftly working on his jeans, a shy yet mischievous grin forming on your lips. "I need to show you just how sorry I am," you whispered.

Mike's breath hitched at your words, and he bit his lip as you pulled his jeans down just enough to free him, your hand wrapping around him firmly. He groaned, the sound deep and needy, as his head tilted back slightly, his grip on the tree tightening as he watched you.

You stroked him slowly at first, your movements deliberate, watching the way his hips bucked slightly toward you.

"Fuck" Mike breathed out as he felt your lips brush the tip of him, teasing him just enough to make him curse under his breath. His hand moved to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he fought to keep control.

When you finally took him fully into your mouth, Mike let out a strangled moan, his hips instinctively thrusting forward. The heat, the wetness of your mouth, it was overwhelming. Every time you moved, it sent sparks of pleasure shooting through him. He looked down at you, his chest heaving, and the sight of you on your knees for him, your mouth wrapped around him, made something snap inside him.

He couldn't stop himself from moving his hips, thrusting deeper into your mouth, each motion filled with desperation and need. His voice was low, almost growling as he murmured your name between pants, barely able to keep himself in check.

"God, you feel so good," Mike groaned, his eyes locked onto you as his hips moved in sync with your rhythm.

Your tongue swirled around him, sending shivers up his spine, and Mike couldn't think straight anymore.

Just before he could reach the edge, he pulled you back up, his lips crashing against yours in a heated kiss. He wasn't ready to let go just yet. Not when he still had so much more to give you.

His hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly as he once again pressed you against the tree. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and you could feel the heat of his body against yours, the hard lines of his muscles as he held you up and settled between your legs again.

Mike's hands were everywhere, sliding under your jacket, under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin. His teeth grazed your neck as he sucked a mark into the tender flesh there. His fingers moved to your belt, undoing it with a quick flick of his hand.

His breath hitched as he pulled your pants down just enough for your ass to be exposed, the cool air hitting your skin and making you shiver.

His hand slid down between your legs, his fingers brushing against your entrance, teasing you with the lightest of touches.

He kissed you again, rough and urgent, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his fingers slowly began to prep you. He was careful, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you. He took his time, letting his fingers slide in gently, one at first, then two, stretching you carefully as his other hand gripped your waist to hold you steady.

He kissed you harder, his tongue moving in sync with the rhythm of his fingers as he continued to work you open.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned against your lips, his voice thick with desire. "You're going to feel so good around me."

He stretched you further, his fingers moving faster now, more deliberately. His heart was pounding in his chest, his own arousal pressing hard against his jeans.

His fingers curled inside you, brushing against that sweet spot that made you gasp and arch against him.

Your moans were the only answer he needed and Mike knew you were as ready as he was. He pulled his fingers out slowly, the absence making you whimper, but before you could protest, Mike was already undoing his own jeans, pushing them down just enough to free himself.

He pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he held you steady.

"Tell me you want this," Mike growled, his voice low and dangerous as he looked into your eyes, his breath hot against your lips. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," you gasped, your voice breathless and desperate as you tightened your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "I need you... please."

That was all he needed to hear. With a low groan, Mike pushed into you slowly, inch by inch, his cock stretching you in a way that made you gasp. The tightness around him was almost too much, the heat and pressure overwhelming, but it felt perfect.

"Fuck," Mike grunted as he buried himself inside you, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. He could feel every inch of you, the way your muscles clenched around him.

For a moment, he didn't move, just savoring the feeling, the way you fit him so perfectly. His forehead rested against yours, both of you panting, trying to catch your breath.

"You feel so fucking good," Mike groaned, his hands sliding up your back, holding you tight against him as he finally began to move.

You moaned his name softly, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, and it only made Mike more desperate. His pace quickened, his hips snapping forward with more force now, driving deeper into you with every thrust.

Mike's hands roamed your body, gripping your ass, your thighs, anything he could hold onto as he lost himself in the feeling of you.

His voice barely audible as he kissed you hard, his teeth grazing your lower lip as his thrusts became more frantic, more desperate.

He slammed into you harder now, his hands gripping your hips to pull you down onto him as he thrust up, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you with every stroke.

Mike could feel his own release building, the pressure becoming almost unbearable as he thrust into you with reckless abandon. His breath was ragged, his heart pounding in his chest, and he could feel the way your body was trembling, the way you clenched around him, pulling him deeper.

"I'm gonna-" Mike's voice broke off into a low groan as the pleasure overwhelmed him, his body tensing as he came hard, his release spilling inside you. His hips jerked forward, his thrusts becoming erratic as he rode out the wave of pleasure.

Both you and Mike found yourselves leaning against the tree, your bodies still pressed close, the cold air doing little to calm the heat that lingered between you. Mike's chest heaved with deep breaths, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady himself. His arms still held you securely.

Mike's fingers gently trailed down your back. He gave a low, satisfied hum, his lips grazing your temple as he pressed a soft kiss there.

"I wasn't expecting that kind of apology," Mike murmured, his voice still rough and low, the hint of a smirk pulling at his lips. "But damn... I could get used to it."

You let out a breathy laugh, still a little dazed and breathless yourself. "Well... I owe you after all this time."

Mike chuckled softly, his lips brushing against yours in a lazy kiss before he finally pulled back, his eyes flicking toward the direction of the lodge. He ran a hand through his messy hair, shaking his head slightly in disbelief of everything that had just happened.

"We should probably get to that cabinet," he said, though his voice carried an unmistakable teasing edge.

His hands still hadn't fully left your waist, and you could tell that he wasn't quite ready to let you go. There was a playful glint in his eyes now.

"Yeah, we should," you agreed, your voice soft as you glanced up at him. "I could use a break from the cold."

Mike grinned, finally letting his hands drift from your waist as he helped you adjust your clothes and brushing off the snow that had clung to your clothes. His touch was gentle now, though the way his fingers lingered on your skin as he fixed your jacket told you that his thoughts were far from innocent.

"But you know..." his voice dropped to that low, teasing tone that you were becoming all too familiar with. "I'm not sure one apology is enough. I might need a few more of those. Just to make sure you're really sorry."

You raised an eyebrow at him, unable to stop the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. "Oh? And what exactly do you have in mind, Monroe?"

Mike leaned in closer, his lips just barely brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Maybe I'll show you when we get to that cabinet. It's nice and private... perfect for a few more 'apologies’."

Mike pulled back slightly, that smirk never leaving his face as he took your hand, leading you back toward the path.

The night had only just begun, and with Mike by your side, it was clear that this was just the start of something much, much deeper.

If you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3.

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suiana · 3 days ago

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realistically speaking i would be part of that 99% that would get obliberated if a wattpad alpha ceo mafia boss kills the world for his darling so imagine yandere! side character who would ALSO burn the whole world for you (but fails).

it's the aftermath of whatever the hell happened half a year ago. you know live on mars because apparently some sicko decided it would be good to burn the world for his lover??? yeah, not fun at all. like you get showing love through grand gestures but that was not it.

thankfully you escaped to mars just in time!

unfortunately you found someone there who was even worse. bonus points if they're not human because what is this alien gonna do???

"zeep zip zip..."

"yeah i like sleeping too."

you don't understand him and you think he doesn't understand you. probably. but whatever, you two are getting along just fine. until one day he starts speaking to you in fluent english and proposes marriage because that's what humans do right?

"salutations my beautiful human, i come bearing a shiny rock that i've scavenged from your home planet because i've heard stories of other humans proposing with it. please accept my marriage proposal."

"wtf"

yeah, not what you were expecting from this gorgeous alien who definitely wasn't on the brink of collapsing onto his knees and just begging you to accept him. definitely not, who do you think he is?

"PLEASEPLEASEPLEASPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE"

"bro ts is so tuff🥀🥀🥀"

he also claims to destroy... mars??? if you don't accept him that is. but you think he's lying, which he is. he wouldn't even hurt a fly, you know it.

"i will DESTROY mars."

"vro stop lying"

"you're right, i apologise my beloved."

so what does he do? he settles for being a desparate little alien who can't help but cling to you every second of the day. you may not have accepted his proposal but in his eyes, you two are already together. he lives in the house right beside you (he built it there) and you two basically act like a couple!

he might not be the main character but he sure is going to make you his. don't underestimate him.

"please... will you marry me?"

"no."

"WHY🥀💔 humans are despicable creatures..."

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere concepts #yandere side character #yandere side character x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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huhmiya · 8 months ago

Text

CAUGHT | matt sturniolo

pairing: secret!bf! x f!reader

summary: matt has been cheating on his girlfriend for you but soon paparazzi’s caught the two of you, leaving things unsettled.

warnings: smut, pet names (baby, slut, sweetheart, love), public sex, dominant!matt, swearing, rough sex, fingering, nipple playing, needy matt, crying, panicking, hair pulling, ass grabbing, choking kink, getting caught, p in v, teasing, mention of y/n

a/n: not my photos, on pinterest.

WORDS: 2.9k

huhmiya on wattpad

you - pink | matt - blue

Matt had a girlfriend who he had lost feelings for her ever since he met you. The more time you spent together, the closer your friendship evolved into a secret dating relationship.

Despite dating each other for the past two months, you both had to keep it under wraps because of his other girlfriend and his status as a famous YouTuber alongside his brothers.

His brothers admired you more than his actual girlfriend, but they were unaware of the romantic relationship between you and Matt.

In public settings with friends or when hanging out with his brothers, Matt would discreetly touch your thigh under the table so no one saw.

At times, things between you two would escalate into more intimate moments, which he enjoyed as it fueled his affection for you and his fingers were just enough to please you.

Currently, you were staying at a hotel with Matt as neither of you could visit each other's homes.

Matt's girlfriend, who everyone knew was a friend of yours, added a complex layer to the situation but the complications, she had mistreated you, allowing you to feel less guilty about the affair.

Matt, on the other hand, avoided going home so he didn't have to see his brothers as he desired quality time with you.

Matthew considered breaking up with his girlfriend a few times, but lacked the courage to do so, and aside from his brother, his parents adored her, even though they had never met you.

Another factor was the short duration of your relationship together, which had only been two months compared to his previous three-month relationship.

However, the main reason was his concern that his girlfriend might become upset with you if things ended badly.

You were lounging on the bed, engrossed in your phone, while Matt dried his hair after a shower. "Are you okay, love?" he inquired.

Setting your phone aside since you noticed he left the bathroom, you smiled as his gaze met yours. "I'm fine, and you?" you replied softly.

He returned the smile, joining you on the bed and leaning against you, resting his head on your shoulder as you felt his slightly wet hair soaking your shirt.

"I'm better now that I'm with you," he murmured, intertwining his fingers with yours, his blue eyes fixed on your hands, noting the size difference between them.

There were moments when he felt guilty for cheating, but he did it because of you and he did not regret it. He loved you, not her. He wouldn't be with you if he loved his other girlfriend.

Even if he thought about the other girl he was cheating on, his thoughts always came back to you. He didn't care about his other girlfriend, he only wanted to end things with her because he lost feelings and your just better.

He drifted off in a daydream for a moment before turning to look at you, giving you a smile before leaning in to kiss your lips, slowly climbing on top of you.

You placed your hands on his hips and didn't hesitate to kiss him back as he let out a small sigh of relief before slipping his tongue into your mouth, to which you responded in kind.

Exploring each other's mouths, both of you aroused but he was teasing you, his fingers teasingly rubbing against your shorts near your heat, causing you to roll your eyes in pleasure at the touch. However, he abruptly pulled away, meeting your gaze.

"Not that easy, baby," he smirked before sitting on top of you. You pout a tiny bit before placing your hands on his thigh to rub them for his comfort.

"You're annoying, you know that," you said, making him chuckle and gently tap your nose while your more turned on than him. "But you still love me, right?"

"Still doesn't change the fact that you're annoying," you whispered as he rolled his eyes. He knew he needed you as much as you needed him, but he didn't care, he loved teasing you.

Shifting slightly, he laid on top of you with his head on your shoulder, remaining silent as you played with his soft hair.

It was late at night, and you both were still at a hotel with a massive pool.

He looked at you and then settled in more comfortably as you wrapped your arms around him to prevent him from falling off.

"Do you want to go swimming?" he asked, closing his eyes. He caught a whiff of the perfume you were wearing, causing his body to slightly twitch from the goosebumps as the scent was intoxicating to him, like a drug.

You stay silent for a little longer, gently playing with his hair, causing him to bite his lip to suppress a small moan or whimper as your nails delicately touch his scalp a few times.

"Now?" you ask, to which he simply nods in response, lightly kissing your shoulder as a silent expression of his happiness that you are here with him. "If you want to go swimming, then let's go."

You and Matt have been seen hanging out together a few times, leading your friend, who is Matt's girlfriend, to question the nature of your relationship.

However, you both maintained that you are just friends, a story she believed.

He smiled and got up from on top of you, making sure not to hurt you, before looking at you and then rummaging through his suitcase to find his swimming shorts.

As he prepared, you observed him going through his belongings before you got up to search for a bikini you brought with you.

By the time you began to change into your swimwear, he was already dressed. He watched you intently, a reminder playing through his head that you are his, causing his smirk to widen.

"Are you going to keep watching like a pervert?" you teased with a small grin as he simply rolled his eyes, but didn't take his gaze off of you.

"I'm not a pervert, I'm just admiring you and thinking about leaving some hickeys on you again. I like marking what's mine," he replied, watching as you finished changing into your bikini, making him eager to rip it off.

You locked eyes with him, raising an eyebrow and casually moving your hair to one side. "Then go ahead, you're a coward if you don't mark what's yours," you challenged, causing him to glare at you, shaking his head with a smile on his lips - though there was always a smile on his lips when he was with you.

"I hate you, you know that, right?" he said jokingly before moving closer to you, pressing you against the wall and kissing your neck, not wasting anytime.

"Hate is a strong word, Bernard," you replied as he bit your neck firmly, but not enough to cause any pain.

"Never call me Bernard, y/n," he warned as his hot breath tickled your neck. You chuckled before nodding in response.

He gently rubbed your back, then his hands moved to your ass, squeezing it before pulling away to look into your eyes.

He admired your perfect body, but deep down he knew it wasn't just your physical form he loved, it was you he loved the most, not just your body.

"Ready to go swimming now?" he asked, to which you nodded. He playfully rubbed his nose against yours, a small grin forming on his lips, before releasing you with one last playful squeeze on your ass.

"Are you ready?" he asked again, glancing at you and then at your bikini, which hugged your curves. "Yes, I'm ready," you replied.

Checking the time on his phone, he noticed it was getting late but neither of you bothered taking your phones since you both saw no need.

"Come on, sweetheart," he said, leading you as you followed him. He locked the hotel room door before heading to the elevator, holding your hand not just to guide you but also because he simply wanted to feel your touch.

As you both rode the elevator down to the ground floor, he gazed at you and kissed your lips, gently tugging on your hair.

His lips met yours, and a soft moan escaped you as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

Pressing you against the elevator wall, he positioned his knee between your legs and his hand wandered to your neck.

As he continued to kiss you, his hold on you tightened but he released you once the elevator reached the ground floor.

With a smirk, he wrapped his arm around you, leading you to the empty pool on that late Tuesday night when few guests were at the hotel.

"Can I be honest?" he asked, prompting you to turn and nod before returning your gaze to the pool as you sat on the edge, feeling the chill of the night air.

"You look so hot in that bikini, it makes you look like a fucking slut- hot one though" he remarked as he sat beside you, his eyes widening at the cold sensation when he dipped his feet into the pool.

"Are you calling me a slut?" You raise an eyebrow, causing him to snap his head towards you, his heart racing. "I didn't mean it in a rude way, baby but yes," he says.

You faked your anger and push him into the cold pool, causing him to curse as he hits the water.

"What the fuck, y/n," he says, rubbing his eyes before looking at you, grabbing your ankle and pulling you into the water.

Unable to hold on to anything, your body plunges into the freezing water. You quickly swim back to him, only to see him laughing, so you splash water at him.

"Oh my god, you are an asshole," you say, causing him to swim closer and pat your head before kissing you quickly and apologizing, "Sorry, sweetheart."

He wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you again, but it's short lived as he pulls away. "Can we have sex? In the pool?" he asks, pressing his half hard member against your leg.

You raise an eyebrow and don't say anything, except allowing his hands to move to your chest, even though you're wearing a bikini.

He didn't hesitate to touch your breasts. You made sure no one was around, and so did Matt.

He smiled to himself as you both confirmed the coast was clear. Then he removed your bikini top and began to gently suck on your breast while one of his hands played with your nipples.

You let out a soft moan as his teeth lightly grazed your hardened nipples. He watched as you closed your eyes and arched your back slightly.

After a moment, he pulled away and pushed you against the edge of the pool. He then removed his swimming shorts, revealing his large, erect member.

"I can't believe we're doing this in public. It makes me want to cum already," he said with a wink before removing your bikini, leaving you both naked.

He guided your legs to wrap around him as he began to make love to you, his cock thrusting into you as you both moaned softly.

"Take it like a good girl," Matthew said, biting his lip afterward as he increased the intensity, his eyes rolling back slightly as he heard your moans with each thrust.

The look in your eyes told you were close, but he just laughed darkly and shook his head. "Hold your orgasm, sweetheart. You can cum when I do," he said, making you whine, which prompted him to flick your nipples to make you stop.

Your breaths were erratic, but not as much as Matt's. "Do you like that, y/n? Me forcing you to hold your orgasm even though you're being such a good girl that I treat you like a slut?" he asked, making you nod.

He hummed before coming inside you harshly, causing you to coat his dick as you both remained in the pool. He gazed at you, kissed your lips, and then pulled away.

"We should head back. We've already taken the risk of having sex, so we shouldn't push our luck any further," he whispered, moving your hair away from your face.

You nodded, and he helped you put on your bikini before donning his swimming shorts, still sporting a boner.

He got out of the pool, assisted you, and then the two of you made your way back to his hotel. Despite being able to walk just fine, he still held onto you.

He remained silent as he pressed the number two button in the hotel elevator. You leaned on him as he gently stroked your hair.

"Come on," he whispered once the doors opened. You smiled and followed as he led you, his hand linking with yours.

He soon unlocked the door and held it open for you to enter first. You stepped inside, and he smiled gently as you thanked him before he locked the door.

"I didn't think we would end up having sex, I thought we were just going to swim," you said, making him smirk.

He then removed his wet swimming shorts, put on some boxers, and hung the shorts to dry on the balcony with pegs.

"Give me your bikini," he requested as you started to change. He smiled when you handed it to him and dried it in the same manner as his swimming shorts.

When he returned, he hugged you from behind, causing you to shiver because you were ticklish. He chuckled before resting his head on your neck, enjoying the scent of your skin.

As you laid down next to him, you rested your head on his chest and gently ran your hands over his stomach, the room filled with silence.

"I really need to end things with her, but I'm unsure how to do it without causing any issues with your friendship with her and upsetting my parents. However, once my parents find out about you, they'll surely appreciate you even more," he confessed, looking into your eyes with a faint smile.

"Then go ahead and do it. I don't mind losing me and her's friendship for the sake of your happiness," you responded, meeting his gaze as he fell silent for a moment before nodding and speaking softly, "I'll handle it tomorrow or sometime this week."

You smiled and kissed his lips, causing him to close his eyes and gently place his hands on your waist, pulling you onto his lap as he lay back.

As you pulled away from the kiss, you glanced at him before snuggling down on top of him. He was quiet, breathing gently, but his hand was rubbing your waist and back.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he whispered, and you reciprocated the sentiment before both drifting off to sleep. You were the first to wake up in the morning.

"Matt, your phone won't stop ringing," you mumbled, waking him up. He looked at you, then at his phone.

"It's her," he whispered, trying to ignore it, but the phone kept buzzing. "Oh, for fuck sake," he groaned, shifting slightly to answer the call.

He answered, sounding half asleep as you rested your head on his stomach. Suddenly, you heard a gasp from him, prompting him to look at you, and you back at him.

"What's wrong?" you whispered so quiet that he probably didn't hear, and he shook his head, continuing the conversation on the phone.

"What do you mean I was with y/n last night, fucking her?" he said, trying to remain calm.

You froze as Matt put an arm around you, reassuring you that it wasn't your fault. "Listen, I was going to tell you about me and her," he whispered, but his girlfriend kept accusing him of lying.

Eventually, Matt learned that she found out about the affair from someone at the same hotel who witnessed you both at the pool.

They discreetly recorded the encounter, but the footage was blurry due to their distance and hiding spot. Though it was clear it was you two.

With a heavy sigh, Matt set his phone on the bed and rubbed his temples as his girlfriend but now ex ended it.

"She knows, someone recorded us which is so creepy," he said in distress, and you did your best to comfort him.

His main concern was that the video might be circulating online, exposing him to people he knew and his followers.

You stood up and leaned against the headboard, wrapping your arms around him. Overwhelmed, he began to cry.

"I'm in deep trouble. I don't care about losing her, I'm just glad to be with you. But my fans will find out, my parents, my brothers who I share a home with," he whispered as you held him close, assuring him that everything would be okay in the end.

masterlist! guidelines & information! wattpad! socials!

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sttm99 · 9 months ago

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You've always noticed Bakugo.

Easily.

You almost took it as a thing of pride, having been able to see the potential so easily. When you were all fifteen-year old first years, you could so easily tell he was handsome. Your teenage eyes always seemed to search for him in every class, every room.

He was brash and unpolished, loud, obnoxious, and an all-round piece of shit. But that stupid, wattpad-infested, schoolgirl mind of yours couldn't help but eat it up.

You could never muster up the courage to talk to him, though. He was mean, and you weren't like Mina or Kirishima that could hang out with him and not be bothered by it.

So you settled with admiring him from afar, keeping your attraction to yourself and never really coming into the space that is Katsuki Bakugo throughout your first year.

Second year was the year you had your first encounter with him. It was in the final months of the year, when you two had been paired together for a project.

He came over to your table at the end of the school day with his bag lazily slung over his shoulder as he stood above you by your desk.

"My room this evening. 6:30. We'll start then and see how far we can go." He tells you swiftly, in that voice that had begun to crack already, eliciting slightly more mature thoughts from you.

"Sure." You murmur as you looked up at him.

He turned around and left immediately, not once turning back to look at you, his other friends following him out the door.

You knocked on his door at 6:33, foregoing your uniform for a simple, little t-shirt and plaid trousers. He opened the door almost instantly, ushering you in and shutting it quick behind you.

"This is how it's gonna go-" He begins as he takes a seat on his desk, powering up his computer. You take the small moment where he's facing away to admire his back, his shoulders bare from the sleeveless tee he has on.

When he turns back, your face is back to a blank stare, eyes directed towards the poster he has above his bed. It's an all might one, and you think you remember it being limited edition, an expensive one that was hard to get a hold of.

"Oi, over here." He scolds you, and you turn back to him.

"Sorry," you mumble, as you step over to him, standing between his desk and his bed.

He glances at you, taking in what you're wearing. "You can sit on my bed. Those aren't outside clothes, right? So it's fine."

You slowly sit on his bed as he begins to open up a Word document. The project was for history class, and you two had gotten a time period you were disgustingly educated in.

Bakugo had already started the work, surprising you a bit. He began pointing out what he'd already done, and what you'd be doing to complete it.

"And-"

"This is wrong, by the way." You cut him off.

Bakugo looks at you slowly, a scowl taking over his pictures. "Wrong?"

You nod, your shyness melting off in the presence of your intelligence. "Yeah. This -" You point to a paragraph header. "- didn't start happening until about 50 years later - 54 specifically, actually. So, if you talk about the monarch right before this, it would look weird cause he couldn't have come into power without this practice."

Your eyes are on the laptop, pointing out mistakes and making corrections. And for the first time since you started at UA, Bakugo noticed you.

It was a subtle switch, where he went from seeing you to actually noticing you; from hearing to listening.

Were you always this smart?

Was your voice naturally that way?

Have you always smelled so good?

The evening ended with you making suggestions and adding about three paragraphs to the work.

And as he closed his eyes to sleep, all Bakugo saw was you.

This is five years past. Mina had invited a small group of them to her apartment for a mini reunion, and just like in his room years before, Bakugo noticed you.

He noticed you standing in Mina's kitchen by the sink, washing off the sauce Denki had accidentally spilt over your palms, whilst the others were in Mina's living room playing a game of charades.

"Hey." You turn to look at Bakugo by the door.

It wasn't like you'd suddenly become friends after the project you two had done together, but you could tell he'd warmed up to you a bit. He looked at you sometimes, more often than before, and didn't look away immediately after making eye contact.

Sometimes, he'd ask your opinion on something(you liked when he did. He valued what you had to say), or he'd make some side comment about you when you'd pass him in the hall sometimes. But they weren't regular Bakugo mean. He was warming up to you, in his own Bakugo away, but warming up nonetheless.

"Hi." You say back to him, turning off the tap before going to wipe your hand with some paper towels.

"Haven't seen you in a bit," Bakugo mumbles as he steps closer, leaning his hip against the counter, some few feet away from you.

Whilst he came into the spotlight, bright and loud like his quirk, you'd decided to follow Aizawa's footsteps and become an underground hero instead- foregoing the limelight for a career in busting crime rings and fucking up drug lords.

You shrug, not really looking at him, your eyes instead focusing on your hands as you dried them.

You'd grown out of your little crush quickly after graduation. Even though you could appreciate just how blindingly handsome he was, just as you'd expected, he didn't have your heart racing anymore, didn't get your palms sweaty.

Sure, maybe the sight of his veiny forearms and large shoulders did something to your stomach, but you knew the difference between pure lust and actual romantic feelings.

"Kind of the point of my work, don't you think?" You ask rhetorically.

He shrugs back. "How's it going, anyways?"

It's not something he can do, the whole underground thing. His quirk isn't quite right for it, and neither is his personality. And with how his time in UA went, he was far too recognizable to go undercover anywhere.

But he could appreciate that you were good at what you did. He wouldn't admit it, but he did keep up with some of the people he didn't bother talking to after graduation. Just a few - Deku and Todoroki - sometimes he'd look at what Uraraka and Jiro are doing.

Admittedly, he checked up on you far more often than he was willing to expose. He knew a lot of your missions and was eerily familiar with your high success rate, too.

"It's fine." You say as you throw the towel into the bin and lean back against the counter behind you, your palms holding the edge as you looked at Bakugo. "Not so glamorous, a bit scary sometimes, I guess, but- that's hero work, isn't it?"

He hums, and at the back of his mind, he hopes the others don't bother coming to look for either of you soon.

"I guess so. But hey, you've been doing good." He admits.

You raise a brow and are unable to keep the smirk off your face. "You've been following up on me?" There's a teasing lilt to your voice which Bakugo had never encountered before. The tilt of your lips changes the entire dynamic of your face.

You're less melancholic now, more sultry and seductive, and it's pulling him in without him understanding why. It's something he'd never seen from you in UA, and he wonders... what else has he not seen from you?

He scoffs at your words, folding his arms over his chest as he stares you down. "I keep up with hero news."

You chuckle a bit. "You're doing well, too, though."

He shrugs. "Thanks, I guess. 'M just waiting for all those old geezers to fucking retire."

You laugh aloud at that.

Bakugo sees Kirishima step into the doorframe behind you. He glares quickly, purposefully as you're not focused on him, still laughing. He's signalling for Kirishima to leave - he doesn't want this moment with you to end just yet.

The redhead complies, not without shooting Bakugo a sly look.

As you turn back to him, his disposition is different. He's less put off, and he's gotten closer. "So -" He starts, drumming his fingers over the countertop"- what are you doing after this?"

And you smile at him, in that sly, sultry way you did before. "It's up to you now, isn't it?"

This most probably won't have a part 2. I just wanted to get it out of my drafts.

#bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha x reader #bakugo fluff

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kikyoupdates · 10 months ago

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Otherworldly Attraction | yandere!jjk x reader jujutsu kaisen, yandere, reverse harem, isekai, f!reader

You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

also available on Ao3!

Leave Your Mark | bnha x reader my hero academia, reverse harem, isekai, f!reader

You didn’t accomplish anything in your previous life. Looking back on it, you feel nothing but regret, and you yearn for the chance to do things differently. As it turns out, your wish is answered, and you are reborn into your favorite fictional world. This time, you resolve to make a change, and you have the means to do it. You won’t be content with just sitting on the sidelines and letting life pass you by. You will live boldly and vibrantly, as if every moment is your last.

also available on Ao3!

Heartbreaker | bnha x reader my hero academia, reverse harem, isekai, f!reader

You awaken one day with virtually no memories. The only thing guiding you is some strange system that likes to dictate your every move, and for some reason, it insists that you make certain people fall in love with you. Desperate for answers, you decide to go along with its demands. After all, how hard can it be?

also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Made to Destroy | bnha x op!reader my hero academia, reverse harem, over powered reader, f!reader

You are the product of a series of twisted experiments, an anomaly that shouldn’t have ever existed in the first place. Thankfully, you are taken into the arms of a hero and given a new purpose in life. But as you soon discover, it isn’t easy to deny your true nature, especially when you were made to destroy.

also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Bloodthirst | bnha x vampire!reader my hero academia, reverse harem, vampire reader, f!reader

As punishment for your sins, you, a young vampire, are banished — not just from your home, but to a different world entirely. Now, you find yourself in a foreign place where Quirks and heroes are the norm. In addition to coming to terms with your new life, you must also face your greatest challenge: controlling your massive thirst for blood.

also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Infatuated | yandere!bnha x reader my hero academia, yandere, reverse harem, f!reader

Your Quirk is rather unique. It plays out almost like a game, giving you missions and goals that help you become stronger. On top of that, you also have the ability to charm those around you. It sounds innocent enough on paper, and you can’t help but revel in the attention everyone keeps showering you with. But what happens when their feelings give way to something more sinister?

Love Bite | oc!vampires x reader yandere, reverse harem, vampires, original characters, f!reader

Desperate for money to pay off your debts, you sign up for a program that allows you to sell your blood to vampires. At first, everything is fine, and you’re finally able to make ends meet. But they soon begin craving more than just your blood.

also available on Wattpad!

Tears of a Villainess | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters, f!reader

Reincarnation isn't as great as it sounds, especially when you've been reborn as none other than the villainess. Fated to die if you stand in the heroine's way, you immediately resolve to distance yourself from the plot. As long as you have nothing to do with any of the relevant characters, surely, you'll be able to avoid an untimely death. But in a horrible turn of events, the heroine ends up wanting to get close to you. Are you really doomed to meet the villainess' tragic end? Or is there an even more sinister fate that awaits you?

Girlfriend-For-Hire | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, original characters, f!reader

Hoping to try something new and earn a bit of money on the side, you join an app that lets people hire you for your dating services. The idea is pretty straightforward — you pose as the client's girlfriend for a brief period of time, and in turn, you receive payment. But you didn't foresee everyone getting so attached to you, and suddenly, they're no longer satisfied with a fabricated relationship.

Changing Plotlines | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters, f!reader

A desperate cry on your deathbed leads to you being given a fresh start at life. You're overjoyed at having finally obtained a healthy body and a real chance at living normally, only to discover that you've been transported into a yandere game, where danger lurks at every corner. Determined to protect your new life at any cost, you vow to stay as far away from the major characters of the game as possible. But things don't always go as planned.

Bewitched | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, magic, witches, f!reader

Having awoken one day with no memories apart from your name, you are endlessly thankful when a kind family decides to take you in as their own. But it appears as though your fate cannot be so easily overwritten, and as you discover more and more about the person you were meant to be, the hearts of those around you seem to change in a sinister way.

also available on Wattpad!

Crushed Velvet | yandere!ocs x reader yandere, reverse harem, original characters, f!reader

Your parents are thrilled to have secured an engagement for you with the royal family. Your suitor, the crown prince, has agreed to be wed to you. It seems as though your entire future has been assured, so why is it that from this moment onward, your life starts to fall apart at the seams?

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

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itz-mfkn-de · 8 months ago

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\\ALWAYS YOU//. M.R

warnings— OOC MATTHEO, Im a sucker for toxic boys but I made him extra sweet in his one idk why, uhhh not many tbh, cussing, kissing, smoking, that’s all I think.

summary— Mattheo was your best friend, always had been, but was the title of ‘friend’ enough?

-my first work for Mattheo! I will eventually get a master list going once I get more comfertable posting on here. This is a repost of one of my works on wattpad, just with some tweaks bc that work was olldddd-

You sat against mattheos 𝐛𝐞𝐝, 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 out of his dorm window.

"You know, some times, I'm worried for you. You just stare at things, it's weird." He snickered as he took a drag from his cigarette.

You looked at him and scoffed, "Sometimes I'm worried about your lungs, you're bound to get some type of problem with all that's smoking you do." You half-joked, glancing at him.

He rolled his eyes, tilting his head up and blew the smoke out of his mouth.

"Seriously Mattheo, that stuff is absolute horse-shit for your body." You stated, accompanying your words with a sharp glare.

"I don't do it that often, just when I'm stressed." He muttered, taking his feet off of his desk and turning his body to face you.

"What happened to the whole 'I don't give a fuck about anything or anybody but myself' thing?" You said, mocking him to the best of your abilities.

"First of all I don't fucking sound like that," he laughed and squinted at you "second, just stressed about life, nothing in particular."

You softly chuckled at his reaction. His eyes broke from yours, looking at some papers on his desk. Your eyes, however, never left his frame. You could stare at him for eternity, everything about his face seemed so perfect, almost as if it were meant to be admired.

You soon realized your staring and quickly averted your gaze towards the window again.

"You gonna go to the Yule ball this year?" You broke the silence, you knew Mattheo hated those things, he hated having to be around a shit ton of people and act like he enjoyed their company.

"Probably not." His demeanor changed, his tone became short, almost snappy.

"Oh, I'm probably just gonna go with Becca." You mumbled, knowing that if no guy was to ask you, Becca had your back.

"Hm." He nearly laughed at your remark.

"What? What's so funny?" You asked, looking back at him, his back still facing you.

"Just surprised you aren't going with a random slytherin guy or something." He answered, but the way he had said it has a strange undertone that you weren't sure how to feel about.

"Well I mean I don't know, I haven't been asked yet." You stated truthfully.

"Ah, I see." He murmured, soon after taking another drag of his cigarette.

You felt tension building in the room, suffocating tension. You weighed your options out, but you decided it would be better to give Mattheo some space, for what you were unsure of.

"Well, Becca and Emma told me they wanted to go dress shopping earlier so I think I'm gonna head over there so we can solidify our plans." You announced while picking up your books and putting them in your bag.

"Bye Mattheo." You said while walking out of his dorm, expecting a response.

You shut the door when you got nothing, you mind raced with the possibilities on what could've caused mattheos strange behavior.

Maybe he'd just had an off day? No that couldnt have been it, he was fine moments before his attitude took a turn.

Perhaps he was just having mood swings, you wouldn't be surprised with all the trash he puts in his body.

You stuck with that story and walked back to your dorm, which was on the other side of the slytherin tower.

You reached it, setting your things down, then quickly turned around and nearly raced to your friends dorm.

The second you reached it, You waisted no time to jump on her bed, causing her to jump.

"Yes, of course you can come into my room unannounced and lay on my bed." Becca said sarcastically. She had been digging through her closet in an attempt to find a dress.

"Sorry, I just need to vent." You said while propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Go ahead." She sighed and laid her body weight

"Okay so, there's this guy. He's like my best friend, but.."

She raised her eyes brows, signaling you to continue.

"But I want us to be more, or atleast I see him as more than a friend. I just feel like no matter how hard I try I can't get him to open up, he just.. won't." You groaned.

"And everytime I get this sliver of hope that I've made progress, he just completely shuts down, leaving me in the dark confused and a little bit heartbroken!" You borderline screamed, your face shoved into her mattress.

"Okay, uh, let's calm down. If he's not showing any signs of being interested maybe you should just, move on- well attempt to at least." Becca stated ,rubbing your back.

You shut your eyes, truly taking in your friends words. “hey Yknow what will make you feel better?” She nearly jumped with excitement. “Going to look for a dress in town.”

You knew she only had good intentions but the words kept echoing through your head. The thought of keeping Mattheo as a friend hurt, but it seemed to be all you could do at this point without ruining your friendship.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe you needed to accept Mattheo

was just a friend.

All you could think about was the Yule ball. Over the next few weeks the days flew by, the anticipation growing larger with each one passing.

Of course you had been asked by some sweet guy from the Ravenclaw house, and, taking Becca's advice, you said yes.

There was nothing wrong with him, he just..he wasn't him.

You had decided to get ready alone, slipping into a beautiful green dress you and Becca had picked out. You finished your hair and makeup, looking into your vanity mirror.

You felt beautiful.

You smiled softly at how well you had dolled yourself up.

Glancing up at the clock, you rushed out of your dorm room, realizing it was the time you and your date had agreed to meet at the entrance by.

You walked gracefully through the halls, a large smile adorning your face. Your heels tapped softly against the ground. You neared the entrance, your breath becoming shallow from the nerves.

Then you saw Becca, she was wearing a beautiful Maroon dress. She looked absolutely breath taking.

"Hey!— oh my gosh." Becca looked at you, her jaw dropping.

"You look stunning! Like some type of goddess...." She said barely above a whisper.

"Becca! Stop, you can't be talking, I forgot how to breathe the moment I saw you." You hugged her.

You were about to continue praising her and her beauty, but before you could comment you heard someone call your name.

"Y/n..wow.." he said, just loud enough for you to hear.

You turned around to see your date, who was wearing a very clean red and black suit.

"Oh my gosh hi! Sorry for being a tad late, I lost track of time while getting ready!" You made your way next to your date, not before Becca gave you a sly smile and a push, leaving to go with her specimen she had chose for the night

"It's okay.., you look amazing." He had said, taking your arm into his. He began to lead you into the ballroom.

"Thank you, I must say, you cleaned up nice." You smiled sweetly at him.

You and him entered the large room full of people, everything was elegant and royal, not a single speck of dust on anything.

You looked around the large room as your date led you down the stairs, you couldn't lie, you felt like a princess. The beautiful architecture of the room, complimented by your stunning dress, felt like something straight out of a fairy tale.

Once you had made it to the bottom of the staircase, you excused yourself away from your date in an attempt to go find Becca again.

You stumbled past groups of people, many of them were couples having a romantic moment.

You tried your best not to run into anybody, you dodged dancing bodies and nearly jogged across the dance floor.

You almost missed him.

You almost walked right by him.

You almost could've saved yourself the heartbreak.

But no you saw it—him with some random Hufflepuff girl.

The way he whispered in her ear, the way she giggled a little too sweetly, everything.

It all made you wanna cry—or throw up, which one that would be you weren't quite sure about yet.

"Y/n?" Theodore came beside you and patted your back.

"Theo-Theodore, I thought Mattheo wasn't coming to the dance?" You struggled to get your words out as your eyes darted between the scene before you and Theodore.

"Oh—uh yeah, he wasn't gonna originally, but some girl asked him and I guess he took a liking to her because usually he just brushes everyone off." Theo answered.

"Oh, I see, I just came to say hello. I'll be on my way now." Before Theodore could argue with your strange behavior you turned your back and walked as quickly as you could back to were your date was.

You abandoned the idea of going to find Becca, you couldn't accidentally run into Mattheo and his.. friend again.

Instead you decided that distracting yourself with your date would be the best thing for your heart at the moment.

"Hey, sorry , I just saw a friend and got distracted." You said, out of breath.

"Oh. Don't even sweat it, I'm just glad you didn't run away and not come back." He joked, dragging you towards the dance floor. You couldn't help but laugh at his bubbly personality. It was a nice change of speed.

"I hope you like to dance." His hands fell onto your hips, yours made their way to his shoulders.

"I actually hate it." You smiled at him.

"How unfortunate." Your smile grew when he matched your energy. You nearly forgot what you had seen a couple moments ago.

But alas, you didn't.

You could feel your chest tightening up, the tears bordering you waterline. Just thinking about him touching that girl in any way made you want to breakdown.

"Ex.—excuse me." You tried to excuse yourself as politely as you could.

You didn't want your date too see you like this, vulnerable, heartbroken.

You urgently walked towards any door in your line of sight. When you finally found one, you ran through it.

You just couldn't escape him, no matter how hard you tried. He was at every single corner you turned.

You nearly groaned when you saw him propped up over the balcony, smoking of course.

He hasn't seemed to notice you, still looking out at the stars.

You couldn't do it anymore, you couldn't spend one more fucking second acting like you weren't in love with him.

The sad part was you'd rather be his friend than him hate you and be nothing at all. As long as he thought about you, you'd be okay.

That's what you had been telling yourself, but you couldn't hold onto that lie anymore.

"Mattheo." You croaked out behind him.

His head shot to the side, looking you dead in the eyes.

"Angel… what're you doing out here." He looked back out to the stars, unable to make eye contact.

"I can't do it anymore." You said shakily.

He turned his full body around this time, his eyes a dark brown. He blew the smoke out of his mouth, the wind pushing it in the opposite direction.

"I can't keep pretending I don't feel this way.., do you know how hard it was to watch you talk to that girl?" You nearly cried out.

"All the girls you fuck with and then bring them to shit like this, I cant keep lying to myself —wishing that it was me instead of her."

You were on the brink of gasping for air, your head pounded. You couldn't believe you had suppressed these emotions for so long. Every single time you went to Mattheo's dorm, you could barely restrain yourself from kissing him.

Before you could continue on with your speech

Mattheo had forced you against the wall.

His lips met yours in a harsh collision. In an almost immediate reaction, your body responded to his actions, kissing him back with just as much need and hurry.

"You don't get to fucking do that." He pulled back from your lips, still making sure to keep his face mere inches from yours.

"Every single day, I'd sit there and watch you talk to this new guy, I couldn't do shit about it— I wouldn't let myself do shit about it."

“I knew you deserved so much better than some lousy asshole like me, angel.” His hand held a firm grip on your hips, his other still had its place on the stone wall.

"It took everything in me not to punch that fucker in the face when I saw him look at you, but I knew you wouldn't want that." You melted beneath his gaze.

His kisses trailed down your jawline.

"During second year, when I went to the dance, I saw you there with Draco, I nearly killed him right after. I couldn't bear to see you with anyone other than myself.. so I wouldn't go, I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it so I never went to another ball again." He gently caressed your cheek with his thumb.

"Until this year." He mumbled softly in between the kisses he was leaving on your neck.

He brought his face back up to yours, his eyes stormy and clouded with something darker than just simple need.

"What'd he say to you? What did he call you?" Mattheo asked with a dark shimmer in his eyes, one you were hoping was just from the moon.

You swallowed harshly, you hadn't realized how dry your mouth truly was.

"He just said I looked nice—"

"Nice? You look fucking ravishing. I've never met a girl as beautiful as you, never once in my life seen a girl who could compare anywhere near you...That's why I call you angel you know...,because even if an angel walked by, my eyes would still be glued on you."

His gentle voice tickled your ears, and your cheeks warmed up beneath him.

"You are my angel."

He kissed you again, only this time it was more gentle. His lips held no rush, they were soft and comforting.

You were the one to pull back this time, smiling sweetly up at him. He pulled you from against the wall, leaving the two of you in the center of the balcony, under the sparkling stars.

"I can't believe we've been friends all these years, and neither of us made a move."

He spun you around under the moon light, the beautiful sky knocking the breath out of you.

"Hey matty..?”You whispered once he had began to hold you in his arms gently.

"Yes angel?" He matched your tone, the sweet nickname you gave him made his chest tighten up.

"I love you." You closed your eyes, shutting them slowly.

"I love you... I always thought I'd never be the type to say that so freely, guess I just needed to meet the right person." He swayed the two of you lightly, finding a rhythm in the midnight winds.

"Of course it's you...

It's always been you."

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #slytherin #mattheoxreader #x reader #harry potter #hogwarts #slytherin boys

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