#This is my first smut im sorry its so bad I just never get that far before giving up on a fic

[frequentlybald]

Pink Rabbit | Lads Caleb/Reader

Credits to @Silverelitist on X for the cute picture

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You didn’t exactly know what to expect when you invited Caleb to work out with you at the gym. He looked different from before after all, the lean athletic build that had kept bullies at bay had grown…bigger. Toned abdomen gave way to sculpted abs that you had somehow noticed under the fabric of his clothes because how could you not? Legs muscular and thick under the fabric of his black denim jeans, his back was big enough to dwarf you and when he moved you swore you could see the muscles flexing there, begging to be touched. But what always left you flushed and hopelessly distracted were his arms. 

Had he always had such nice arms and you never noticed?

There as he completed his last set of pushups before switching to do them one handed like the complete and utter show off he was, those delicious fibers beneath his skin constricted to pull mesmerizing striations across flesh, a pattern for your eyes to feast on as you trailed your gaze up that oh so thick vein on the side of his arm. You wiped the sweat from your brow, panting softly as you stubbornly kicked up the settings of the treadmill you were finishing up your cardio training for. 

You needed a distraction, and fast. 

Caleb grunted left arm straining with his weight and yet he stayed effortlessly smooth, bobbing up and down from your peripherals as you tried desperately to focus on the sound of the tv speakers. 

Didn’t gyms usually play loud music that you could hear over your headphones? Why was this one so quiet?

Save for the soft sounds of a few patrons talking and the clinking of weight machines it felt like all you could hear was the droning of the tv news station doing nothing to cover the sounds that Caleb was making. You risked a glance black, face flushed when in between reports of increased wanderers you heard another strained groan. 

Fuck he was so vocal. You don’t remember that from when you had to share a P.E. field. 

Caleb switched sides, veins swollen and prominent on his left arm as he tucked it neatly behind his back, he was already back to work, pressing his chest nearly to the floor in steady, slow, bends of his elbow. 

You wondered if he was using his evol a little just to flaunt, seemed likely given how often he used his evol to tease you. 

He paused, another low groan slipping past his lips, his face rosy from the strain as he held himself in a plank to catch his breath. This was usually when you would make some teasing remark about him needing to do more cardio if he was out of breath, but you found yourself at a loss of words when he glanced up at you, catching you staring at him in that skin tight compression tank that the Caleb you knew would have never picked out. He had always worn hoodies for you to steal off him and even underneath there would be a t shirt at least, now it seemed that the Colonel’s wardrobe was majority sleeveless. 

Fuck he really was a show off, and he was smirking at you while you were still staring at how his biceps were bulging. “Enjoying the show pipsqueak?” That look that always said he was flirting with danger reappeared in eyes, you didn’t know what the danger was but at this point it was going to be you because you were already on mile six and felt like you had a nuclear amount of energy to burn. 

Stupid fucking Caleb and his stupid fucking muscles. 

You kept jogging, shoes thumping on the worn rubber tracks beneath you. “If you didn’t want spectators you shouldn’t have decided to do your pushups right infront of the treadmills.” You couldn’t help the indignation creeping into your tone, you hated feeling embarrassed and Caleb specialized in delivering nothing but that. He kept his head tilted up, looking at you with a raised eyebrow that you knew meant that whatever you had said had amused him. 

“C’mon I know you like to watch.” He winked and sat back on his heels, tilting his head back to take a sip of his metal Fleet water bottle you had covered in stickers. You sucked your teeth and glanced away to check the monitor display of the treadmill. You had just finished off your seventh mile and were more than a little...heated. Hitting the stop button on the machine, you slowed to a halt and reached for your towel to wipe the sweat cooling on your skin under the chilly ac vents. 

Caleb really was an ass sometimes.

The towel was just out of reach, dangling in the air against all laws of gravity. You reached for it, helplessly, letting out a meager sore legged hop that left you about three inches still too short. “Caleb!” You turned to face him, flushed face already scrunched in a displeasured pout. He was still leaning back on his legs, looking entirely too amused for your liking. You let out another whine, reaching again just for the towel to still be out of reach. “Because of your stunts I’m using the shower first.” You all but spat out, of course it did nothing to get Caleb to drop the towel and finally end his relentless teasing. 

Caleb’s amusement was unchanged, a smug grin slipping over his lips as his right brow quirked up again. “You know I don’t mind a little cold shower.” Of course he doesn’t, he’s a psychopath who takes cold showers during winter just to press his cold hands onto the warm skin of your back as soon as he’s dressed. 

You huff, deciding with finality that the towel is not worth it and you can just grab another from the rack by the lockers before you head back home to your apartment. You had been meaning to do a little cleaning because god knows despite his apartment in Skyhaven being a spotless, desolate, wasteland, he had a habit of leaving his sour candy wrappers all over your living room. “Whatever, keep the damn towel.” You muttered before darting away to grab your things from the lockers. 

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The walk back to your apartment was brisk, and like you had warned, you were the first to use the shower. You were busy lathering soap into your hair, doing your best to keep your thoughts as clean as your body was getting, but it was pointless. The sound of Caleb’s groans kept filling your ears until your eyes were blurring, echoing in your head like a dirty lullaby. 

A song you just can’t get rid of. 

It’s probably what he wanted, he was a tease by nature. Sure he flirted, showed off, but it didn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything when he had practically begged for you to move in with him moments after reuniting and it didn't mean a thing when he  reluctantly agreed to settle on visits. But even that was growing more infrequent, you were busy as most hunters were, you had cancelled on visit plans a few more times than you liked to admit. But whether or not it was the distance, Caleb has been more forward recently. 

Maybe behind all that teasing there was a genuine interest there, but why would you fuck up a decade long friendship trying to figure that out, he was practically your brother. 

Was he though? You had been ogling him like he was on display at the gym. 

You rinsed away soap suds from your hair, smoothing water away from your face as you debated whether or not anything was there at all. It could be a fluke, a byproduct of suddenly losing one of the most important people in your life and then gaining them back just as quickly. Maybe the naive you from your childhood that was convinced Caleb would be the man you marry, the man who takes all your first, died with Caleb that day at grandma’s house. You had grown up a little without him, met new people, other men.

You didn’t need him. Even if he still wanted you to. 

Of course all of that changed when you padded out into the hall, glancing off handedly as you barely towel dried your hair to see him scrolling on his phone on the couch, still dressed in sweaty gym clothes with the shirt noticeably missing. Those shorts were short, hiking up his muscular thighs to scrunch right where thigh met hip, bare chest on display without a care in the world. 

You reminded yourself as you felt your face heating, you had seen Caleb plenty of times without a shirt. But you were still suddenly full of need, thighs pressing together as you plopped down on the other side of the couch. 

“Did'ya enjoy your shower pipsqueak?” Caleb hadn’t looked up from his phone yet and you already wanted to roll your eyes at the nickname

Pipsqueak, like you were some little kid, still the little girl he would hide the snacks out of reach for. No, that wasn't you. You weren’t a pipsqueak anymore, you were a woman and maybe, just maybe, you did need this new version of Caleb, even if it wasn’t exactly for the same purposes as the old version. Your lips parted, and you were about to deliver an enlightening rebuttal when Caleb interjected. 

“You didn’t dry your hair properly.” His phone was discarded beside him and for a moment your thoughts faltered as you wondered what exactly he had been so engrossed in looking at on there he hadn’t noticed your hair being wet when you sat down. Caleb tutted, like he was scolding a wayward child and you already felt yourself cooling off, the neediness that was between your thighs dulling until it was a low ache that only spiked up when your eyes left Caleb’s for longer than three seconds. 

Letting out a soft sigh you gave him an exasperated look. “Gonna dry it for me?” But Caleb already was pulling the towel from around your shoulders where it was protecting your oversized sleep shirt from being stained by falling water droplets. 

He leaned forward as he ruffled your hair with Terry cloth, that playful smirk on his lips as he let out a huff of mock offense. “M’ that predictable am I?” You simply rolled your eyes hoping that your silence was punishment enough as he swiped the towel against the back of your neck to dry off the water dripping under your t shirt collar. He was gentle, like always, taking all the time in the world just to do a simple act of service for you. While you feigned annoyance he knew you liked it anyways. 

“Do ya’ usually train so hard at the gym?” He asked softly. You hadn’t even noticed how your eyes had fluttered closed under his ministrations but when you opened them you met his gaze. 

“Mmm…Usually not quite so hard but Pumpkin Magus has been giving me a run for my money recently.” It was a flimsy excuse, Pumpkin Magus barely lasted a second on the other side of your gun, not like it stopped him from popping back up to wreak havoc. No, you had really been working so hard in the gym to stop you from thinking about what it would feel like to have your child hood best friend wrap those big arms around your waist as he was fucking up into you. Your face flushed and Caleb, who was always observant when it came to you, got that look again in his eye. The one that told you it was time to look up the cost of funeral arrangements. Just incase. 

The hand that had been drying your hair with the towel, feathered down your jaw with the faintest ghost of touches. It made your skin prickle with goose bumps and your brows lift questioningly. “Pumpkin Magus huh? Ain’t that kinda small fry for a big bad hunter like you?” His voice was low, hands resuming the task of drying your hair. “Still keep the blow dryer under the sink short stack?’ 

You nodded, watching as his headed back to the steamy bathroom, bare back filling your gaze as Caleb dug in the the sink cabinet before pulling out a blow dryer you haven’t used since you moved into your own place. You chewed your lip, debating the merits of arguing when the loud sound of the blow dryer running would surely keep Caleb quiet at least. He settled back on the couch, holding open outspread arms, the blow dryer plugged into the wall and resting on the coffee table. You stared at his outstretched arms before reluctantly settling against his chest as loud whirring filled the room. 

Caleb was touchy, one hand holding the blow dryer while the other switched between parting your hair to get between the layers and resting on your thigh, massaging muscles you hadn’t even realized were sore. Of course Caleb's hand on your inner thigh and a soft complaint against your ear for you to look down so he could dry the back of your head properly meant the only thing you could really stare at besides yourself was Caleb’s hand. 

At least they felt somewhat familiar, calloused from sports teams and weightlifting, big and warm, and…vascular. He had the kind of hands that were catalogued in one of those Reddit fetish pages. Blessedly long fingers with perfectly oblong nails trimmed short and always kept clean. Maybe you should have worn those new pajama pants you ordered online instead of old sleep shorts that barely covered anything when you sat down because your breath audibly hitched when Caleb’s thumb started to stroke lazy circles on the sensitive flesh just before he really hit the danger zone.  

Fuck. what was happening?

Caleb is just being touchy, like always. 

You repeat it to yourself over and over, like a mantra on loop instead of the sound of him groaning when his arms started to shake during pushups. 

You were the one who was being weird. 

But this whole situation was absurd wasn't it? Your childhood best friend blew up in front of your eyes, literally, and somehow miraculously survived without telling a single soul who was left to care about him.

Namely you. 

Suddenly arousal faded into that bitter hurt that always accompanied anger. You preferred it this way, it made actual sense. It wasn't some fleeting vision of Caleb bending you over the counter, Caleb using his evol to keep you pinned to the bed while he ate you out just cause he liked it. 

Fuck would he like it?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the blow dryer shutting off, a sudden heavy muteness filling into your apartment. You shifted in Caleb’s lap, silently pleading for him to say something…Anything. He stayed uncharacteristically silent, eyes trained on your face. Tilting your head back, you looked up at him.

He was looking at you with pure adoration, like you were something so precious he was grateful you existed at all. 

You nervously lifted a hand to your face, cheeks flushing as you realized just how close you were. “Thanks.” You chirped the word out, cheeks puffing out as you debated whether or not he would let you slide out of his lap without a cheeky comment. 

Caleb just chuckled softly, hand coming up to ruffle the hair he had just worked so hard to dry off. “Mhmm, Ya’ know I’ll always take care of you pipsqueak.” He sounded like the Caleb you remembered, the Caleb you could depend on, and now you felt like you never really knew him at all. Still, it wasn't something you wanted to bring up, you wanted to enjoy your vacation days for just a little while longer before everything blew up. Caleb would be hurt, you would feel bad for hurting him because somewhere in whoever he is now, he’s still your Caleb. He’s still the little boy who took care of you when you scraped your knee, who always bought two of everything just because of you.

You feigned annoyance, although a fair amount of it was genuine. “Quit calling me pipsqueak, I’m not a little kid anymore.” Caleb’s head tilted to the side, right brow twitching upwards and you knew you were in for it. 

His hands slid off where they were resting on the couch cushions, creeping past your lower back before wrapping around your waist to roughly tug you to his chest. His chin rested in between your neck and shoulder and you could already feel your pulse racing. “That’s not true, you’ll always be my baby.” His lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck as he spoke, voice a low deep rumble with just enough of a teasing lilt at the end that it didn’t exactly sound flirtatious but made you feel like it was. He buried his nose against your neck, inhaling deeply before speaking again, voice muffled by your skin. “The little baby I always gotta take care of ‘cause you need me.” 

Was he…Nuzzling you?

With a flushed face and a quick excuse you were already attempting to escape his grip but he flexed his biceps and you were squeezed in. “Obviously I did fine without you.” You reply with as much snark as you can muster. You’re thankful he can’t see your face right now although with the feeling of weightlessness growing you guessed that was about to change.

He’s using his fucking evol to spin you around so you’re straddling his lap to face him. Your face is lit up red like the apple stickers decorating his water bottle by the couch on the floor. It’s all you can bear to look at when gravity finally returns and you’re plopped right where he wants you. 

On his lap, having to look at him. 

But you look anything but happy about the new seating arrangement. Lips pulled in a frown you only ever get when he’s the one who riled you up. But Caleb looks like how he always does.

In control. 

“What? M’ I not taking good care of my sweet girl?” His lips were already curled into that grin he used when he was trying to butter you up. 

His sweet girl? When did he say shit like that? When did he call you anything other than some variation of pipsqueak? 

At least he wasn't calling you pipsqueak. 

You shifted again in his lap, growing fidgety. This conversation was quickly moving into deeper waters with how hard your heart was pounding and how red your face bloomed.

The problem was Caleb was persistent. 

You had to get rid of him to give yourself time to cool off. You made a show of sniffing the air, nostrils flaring as you scrunched up your face in mock revulsion. “Caleb…You smell, and you’re all sweaty from the gym. Go shower.” Caleb didn’t move, he just stared at you, eyes strangely intense in a way that made you feel pinned to the spot. 

He wasn't even using his evol.

After a silent moment of the two of you just staring at each other, Caleb acquiesced, sliding you off his lap and back onto the couch with his hands on your thighs even though he could have just used his evol to move you without lifting a finger. “M’kay boss, whatever you say.” 

You huffed. That didn’t sound like he was admitting defeat like usual. But still, you watched his back as he retreated to the bathroom and started the shower. 

He called you fucking sweet girl and baby all on the day you start really noticing him as something other than your childhood friend Caleb. And it all feels like a trap somehow. Like he’s trying to dangle sweets in front of your face again. 

You could be persistent too.

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Your apartment was always cozy at night, a far cry from Caleb’s back in Skyhaven. Since Caleb was staying for a whole week the two of you settled into a routine. Caleb cooked dinner in his pjs, you joined him to eat while watching plane disaster videos because one thing you had in common was morbid curiosity. Eventually it would switch into deep dives about streamers with crazy enough allegations to make the both of you side eye each other. And then you would head to your bed in your room and leave Caleb to sleep on the couch. 

Although, when you walked out of your bedroom, eager for dinner, slippers scuffing softly against your apartment floors, you paused at the end of the hall looking out on the open concept living room and kitchen. Caleb was cooking in just boxers now. 

Your face flushed, just when you had finally decided you could finally be normal around him he has to show off again. 

Caleb was such an asshat it was unbelievable. 

And now your emotions were warring between the classic ‘LHL What is it?’ Scenario. Love, Hate, or Lust? You couldn’t make sense when it felt like all three. Taking a deep breath until you felt the heat on your cheeks dissipate you waltzed into the kitchen as casually as you could muster. Filling a glass of water up in the sink. “You really made yourself comfortable huh?” It sounded like a gripe, but Caleb’s back was still turned to you and you were appreciatively glancing over at his muscles between large gulps of tap water. 

Maybe he’s been feeding you aphrodisiacs? 

You mulled the thought over in your head, briefly, before focusing in on Caleb who was certainly speaking to you. “Hey, you listening in or are you gonna keep staring at me like I’m a martian?” His brow twitched up, a smirk tugging his lips into that soft m shaped line you couldn’t tear your eyes away from. 

“Start over, I’ve gotten so used to you staying at my place you’re like background noise now.” You tilted your head to the side, fighting to keep your eyes above his collar bones. 

Caleb lets out a long sigh, shaking his head like he expected this of you. 

His sweet girl.

And suddenly you were blushing again, just at the memory of those words falling from his lips. You felt like a puppy, begging for just a few more words of praise at his feet. 

You hated it. 

“Well I was saying I really have to do laundry. I didn’t pack much.” You ignore his statement, finding it awfully suspicious why Caleb of all people wouldn’t do laundry before he’s completely run out of clothes. Maybe this new side of him was more forgetful. 

You purse your lips. “Feel free to use the machine, I think I have some of your old shirts in the closet.” Caleb nodded, barking out what sounded like an order to watch the stir fry while he looked. You obliged him if only to satiate your growing appetite. You could barely tell if it was for food anymore.

Fuck what was he doing to you?

He came back 10 minutes later, hair rustled, one arm tucked behind his back, and a shirt he used to wear a lot in high school draped over his frame. It had a few stains, mostly from you spilling your morning coffee on the front because you always wore it to bed. For a minute he looked like the old Caleb you knew, but wasnt that just deja vu by now? “Found somethin’ cool in your closet.” His voice a teasing rumble as he broke you out of your nostalgia. 

You shrugged thinking it was probably a photo album or maybe a keepsake you kept from the salvage of grandma’s home. But the look on Caleb’s face made you pause as you scooped cooked stir fry onto two ceramic plates. “What?” 

He had the kind of shit eating grin that made you start to break into a nervous sweat. While looming over you Caleb pulled out your vibrator from behind his back. The hot pink rabbit toy you kept tucked away in a dust bag in your closet for the nights where your job really did keep you up. “Didn’t think you were such a naughty girl keeping stuff like this around where anybody could find it.” You immediately reached for it, face flushing a deeper shade of red as he held it high above his head. 

Why did he have this incessant need to watch you struggle?

You struggled between feeling mortified, flustered, turned on by the fact that he didn’t care that what he was holding had been inside you, that he even wanted to tease you about it in the first place. 

“You’re such a bully Caleb!” You reached up again and Caleb finally dropped his hand just enough to let you grab it from him. You cradled the silicone toy, brows knitted together as you shot him an accusing glare. “It wasn't where just anyone could have found it. It was in a dust bag and you snooped just to embarrass me!” 

Caleb leaned against the island countertop, head tilting to the side and brow raised. “Thought I told you that you could ask for my help with anythin’.” 

You had to grip the counter to stop yourself from going weak in the knees, your voice nearly coming out a hushed squeak before you swallowed down the knot in your throat to finally speak. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Caleb’s arm flexed when he tightened his knuckles around the edge of the countertop, your eyes instinctively darted down to watch the muscles dance below his skin, tightening up just to relax again. He let out an amused chuckle that sounded filthy to your ears, but you couldn’t tell if it was your mind playing tricks on you. “Could use these hands you seem to like so much. Or is it the arms you’re always starin’ at?” 

Your head went blank, eyes wide, darting between his knuckles, white from how hard he was gripping the counter, to his arms where inches upon inches of muscle built up to the stretch of his shoulder, than his face, with his eyes so dark it felt like they were burning into you. Your face was hot, your mind hazy, and your jaw was undoubtedly hanging open. 

“You’re gonna catch flies like that baby” He chastised, hand coming up to nudge your jaw closed with the second knuckle of his index finger. You closed it, still staring at him wide eyed. You didn’t know what you were feeling, you just knew it felt warm and tingly and shot right between your thighs. Caleb dragged his hand down your jaw to your throat, stepping closer until he had you shuttered against him in the bend of the countertops. He tilted your face up and stroked at the skin of your cheek, face leaning down until he was inches away from you. 

“Caleb.” His name slipped out more like a broken whimper than the warning tone you had tried to exude. His thumb rubbing softly at your face while his fingers cradled the back of your head like you might collapse at any moment. 

Your legs did feel like jello. 

Caleb hummed, the sound saccharine sweet like he ran it through honey. “What is it sweetheart?” Your hand, still clutching the pink silicone of the vibrator, pressed against the countertop behind you. 

You wanted to put your hands on him, you wanted to feel those muscles in his arm shift as he worked you over and over until you were mewling and fucked drunk. “Can I touch you?” The vibrator forgotten about on the countertop as your hands tentatively reached up to his shoulders. 

He snorted, a little incredulousness slipping into his tone as he brought his other hand against your hip, squeezing the flesh there playfully. “‘Course you can sweet girl, you never asked before.” 

Before was different, before was when he was your childhood best friend, the Caleb that wasn't exactly so bold, the Caleb that was like your brother. You shifted your gaze down to your slippers. “It’s just different now is all.” You breath hitched when he pressed a soft kiss against your jaw, your hands finally definitively resting on his broad shoulders. “You’re calling me stuff other than pipsqueak and trying to get in my pants.” 

Caleb let out a dark chuckle, his face resting against your neck as he pressed soft kisses against the skin there that left you breathless and aching. “Is it working?” Another painfully sweet nibble against sensitive flesh that made you squirm. Now that hand that was at your hip was sliding up to squeeze your waist, kneading the tense muscles of your side. 

You nodded, it definitely was working. 

Caleb hummed, low and satisfied. His eyes were so dark they nearly looked black. “Wonder what would feel better? My hand or that toy of yours.” Another nip against your skin, right above your pulse. 

Your breath hitched, his arms had you caged in against the kitchen cabinets and all you could do was pout up at him with a rosy face. “Is this more of your teasing?” You weren’t in the mood for new games, and Caleb loved to play. 

He pressed himself forward and you realized at once that Caleb wasn't playing, there hard against your stomach was all the proof you needed. You slid a hand down from his shoulder, nearly in disbelief when it brushed against the front of his boxers. The length of him twitched below your fingers and you moved to withdraw your touch but Caleb’s hand shot out to grip your wrist. “Curious aren’t ya?” His face was colored pink, up to the tips of his ears, eyes heavy lidded in an expression you had never seen before. “Ya don’t have to be curious about everything.” 

Caleb released your wrist, stepping back to run a hand through his hair. He glanced away, seemingly thinking for a moment before turning back to you. “Think I’m done playing games now.” And suddenly he was using his evol to pull you forward into his arms, strong and securely wrapped around your waist to lift you up. 

“Caleb!” You squirmed in his hold but he just squeezed tighter, hands warm against the back of your bare thighs. You couldn’t deny the way he always made you feel helpless, it didn’t matter how many wanderers you took down all own your own, in Caleb’s arms it was pointless to struggle. 

If you didn’t love him so much you might have had the sense to be afraid. 

He carried you to your bedroom, lips pulled into a signature smirk. “Don’t tell me you aren’t going to accept responsibility for your actions now that things are getting serious.” Your back fell against the mattress, Caleb’s hands were already sliding down your thighs tugging the waistband of your shorts. You reached out to stop him, trying to make sense of everything when your mind was so hazy.

Were you embarrassed or aroused? 

It was all mixing together, making your heart pound against your rib cage until it felt like the beat of the drum. Caleb tilted his head curiously, breath warm against your neck as your hand closed around his wrist. “Aren’t there lines you don’t cross?” You asked breathlessly, eyes wide. 

Caleb chuckled, the sound made your swimming mind suddenly hyper focused on him propped up with a strong arm above you. “Aren’t lines meant to be crossed and rules made to be broken?” He pressed a kiss against the exposed skin of your collar and you nearly shivered. 

Why did everything only ever feel right when he was touching you?

You released your grip on his wrist, relaxing into the mattress. Caleb made sense, him touching you made sense. Even as he dragged your shorts down over your hips, until all you had left were the flimsy damp cotton of your panties and the rumpled oversized fabric of your sleep shirt. 

Caleb leaned back with a dark grin, canines sparkling in dim warm light made his smile seem more like the toothy maw of a wolf than the face of your best friend. 

He wanted to eat you alive.

Lips on yours, harsh and aggressive. Teeth sinking into the soft delicate skin of your lower lip until you were moaning against him. Your hands came up to tug on his hair but he just used his evol to pin them back on the bed on either side of your head. “C’mon sweet girl, only I get to touch.” 

You couldn’t help the whiny noise that slipped past kiss swollen lips. He wasn't being fair and he loved to use his evol against you. “I thought rules were meant to be broken?” You taunted back, not missing the way Caleb’s eyes crinkled in the corners. 

He pressed another kiss against your lips, this one softer, the kind that made you so weak in the knees that if you hadn’t been laying down you might have collapsed. “Mhmm…I think rules are fine if I’m the one makin’ them, haven’t you learned that by now?” Caleb’s fingers teased the edge of your underwear waistband, slipping past the elastic to press a teasing caress against the heated flesh of your sensitive clit. 

You sucked in a sharp inhale of air. His calloused finger pad rolling tight circles until you felt the warm drip of your drooling cunt against the bottom of your ass. You were fucking leaking in your panties like you were in heat. Begging for more than just the little touches Caleb was giving you. 

You met his gaze, trained on you like it always was, ears pink and lips parted to let the soft breaths of air, he was huffing out, brush against your cheek. “Caleb please…more.” 

Caleb hummed, tilting his head like he didn’t know what you possibly meant. “More? More what baby?” He knew exactly what you wanted more of but he loved seeing you admit the one thing he craved more than anything. 

That you needed him. 

And Caleb was always willing to let you struggle for it, maybe that was half the enjoyment for him aside from seeing your cute face scrunch up the way it was now. 

You moaned again when the calloused pad of his finger brushed up your hood in a way that made your thighs clench together. Caleb pushed your thighs apart, one hand on your left knee and the other still barely touching you under your panties. “Please…Touch me more.” You whined out, back arching up. 

Caleb withdrew his touch, but his evol kept you pinned down to the bed. “I dunno…You gonna admit that you still need me?” Your brows furrowed, a flush creeping up your cheeks as you met his self satisfied expression with a needy glare. 

You huffed, eager to knock him down a peg. “You’re such a dummy Caleb.” Still, you felt desperate for more. With your lips pressed into a pout you reluctantly gave him what he wanted. “I…I need you Caleb. Please will you really touch me now?” 

That smirk he had faded into something more akin to affection and then your panties were being dragged off. “Yeah? You need me that badly huh?” Caleb was tugging off his shirt, thick arms suddenly free for you to ogle and washboard abs catching the light just right enough to make your breath hitch despite having seen him shirtless countless times. 

Caleb released his evol from your wrists if only to drag you back against his chest after he sat and leaned against the headboard. You didn’t mind the change in position, your back pressed snuggly against his warm pecs. His fingers crept up your shirt to play with your breasts his voice a low rumble against your ear. “Okay pretty girl, okay. I’ll take care of you just like how I always do.” 

One hand kneading your chest, the other between your folds toying at your entrance while his thumb rubbed lazily against your clit. You rolled your hips against his touch, nails digging into the muscled flesh of his strong thighs. A cacophony of pleasured mewls spilling from your lips while Caleb licked and sucked bruises against your neck. He hummed, deep and low, when his mouth unlatched from the hickey on your pulse.

They were going to be hard to explain at work when your vacation finally ended. 

“Look at you pretty baby, all needy for me. Makes it feel like we’re the only people in the world.” He sighed against your bruised flesh, fingers hooking up to finally push into your sopping cunt. Your head fell back against his shoulder at the sensation of him pushing two thick knuckles inside you, eyes barely staying open just to watch the muscles flex in his arms as he curled his fingers against that spongy part of your pussy that made you see stars. 

“Don’t tease Caleb.” You mumbled out in-between breathy moans. He just pressed a kiss against your shoulder and curled his fingers deeper. 

Caleb scissored his fingers, stretching your pussy before curling back upwards to hit your sweet spot, thumb still rubbing on your clit without ever breaking pace. 

Fuck…he must have done this before if he was so damn good at it. 

You were already so close, barely fifteen minutes in and your thighs were trembling, slick soaking the bed sheets beneath the two of you. He kept you caged against him, teeth nipping at the lobe of your ear as he whispered filthy praise just for you. “That’s it pretty girl.” His cock throbbed against your back and you could feel the wet spot growing on his boxers. “Fuck your pussy keeps sucking my fingers in…Don’t tell me you get this way for that toy of yours?” You shook your head and Caleb laughed, his other hand pinching a nipple between his index finger and thumb. “C’mon baby, can’t you say it?” He was teasing you again, but it all felt so much worse when his fingers were buried inside you and you were wet enough to fill an aquarium. “Tell me how much better I am than that pink rabbit otherwise I’m not gonna let you cum princess. And wouldn’t that be a real shame?” 

You thought you might cry at the thought, but Caleb seemed all too eager to punish as he was to reward and you knew better than to test his patience when you were just so close to the release you needed. Your hips rolled in short needy bursts, lips parting open to let out that soft sweet sound Caleb loved so much, you were going to set aside your pride for once if only for a moment of utter bliss you were sure Caleb would bring you to. “It’s better! Ah…hng! Fuck you’re so much better.” 

Caleb seemed satisfied at that, his touch on your clit speeding until that knot low in your gut was about to unravel. “You oughta throw the thing away, I want to be the only one who sees you like this, the only one who makes you cum.” You moaned out an unintelligible word but it just turned into Caleb’s name, over and over, just like the way he kept bullying your over sensitive cunt. “You wanna cum pretty girl?” Your nails were biting into the skin of his arm where you gripped the flexing muscles as his fingers worked you over. 

“Please, please Caleb!” You could feel him smiling against your neck, fingers prodding over and over at your sweet spot until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Good girl, go ahead and soak my fingers. Cum for me baby.” He sounded breathless, eyes glazed and trained on your fluttering cunt, watching the way your folds parted lewdly just for his fingers. The way your unabashed need made them glisten in the low light. 

Eyes rolled back and mouth parted open in a cry that certainly disturbed your neighbors, your orgasm had your thighs clenching together until Caleb used his evol to pin your legs down. His fingers still working you through it with squelches that were loud enough to contest the sound of your fucked out moans. 

You were trembling against him, chest heaving as you finally came down from your high. Blinking up to see him already looking down at you, eyes soft violet even under the warm lamplight. “Wasn't that just the prettiest sight.” He mumbled out, lips curled in that satisfied grin he had when he offered sour candy he knew you would deny so he could hog the whole bag to himself. You were still panting, eyes bleary as you looked up at him while he withdrew his fingers from your clutching cunt. 

He peppered kisses against your cheek before bringing a finger to his lips to suck the slick clean, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out a soft moan. “Geez you’re sweet as hell even down there aren’t ya?” Another kiss against your flushing neck and then his other finger still slick with you was being pressed against your lips. “C’mon sweet tooth, try it.” His tone didn’t have much room for argument so you parted your lips obediently to suck his fingers clean. You didn’t mind it, it’s not like you haven’t had dirty thoughts of him making you gag around his knuckles before. But still, the taste of yourself on his digits was new.

His cock twitched insistently against your lower back and you realized he still hasn't let you touch him. You wanted to make him feel as good as you did.

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and you took the opportunity to turn in the bed to face him, bringing your hands up to his flushed cheeks to press eager kisses against his mouth. "I wanna touch you Caleb...Please."

He stared at you for a moment, his pupils blown to near black, before ruffling your hair playfully. "Nah not yet baby, M'not done with you." You were baffled, what did he mean by not done with you?

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by sudden weightlessness, the bed pressing against your back and Caleb above you. "Caleb! Quit using your evol to toss me around!"

He chuckled, kissing your neck, stopping at the collar of your rumpled sleep shirt and yanked it off using his gravity manipulation. Suddenly you felt bare, nipples pebbling in the cool air as Caleb kissed across the skin of your breasts. "Thats funny, when you were a kid you loved when I picked you up like that." A nip at your nipple made your breath hitch. "Wanted me to keep taking you higher." He pressed a kiss at your sternum. "And higher." Another kiss but lower, against the warm pulse on your stomach. "And higher." He nipped at the pudge below your navel. You whined but he shushed you and propped your thighs over his broad muscular shoulders. "Until you went to outer space."

He was kissing a new place entirely, one that was leaving you breathless. "C-Caleb!"

He hummed but the sound reverberated against your mound, making you forget why you were protesting in the first place. He sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive plump bud. Your folds were swollen, still soaked with slick from your first orgasm, and you could already feel another one creeping up.

Your hands reached to dig into Caleb's hair but he used his evol to pin your wrists to the bed without even looking up. Strong arms flexed as his hands kept your thighs pried apart.

At least he was playing into your fantasies.

He pulled away from your clit to lap between puffy folds, moaning at the taste. You were already putty in his hands, thighs trembling, eyes so glazed, and lips parted to let out breathy moans.

Caleb was as talented in life as he was in dreams. You should have suspected as such, he was good at everything he did.

His mouth latched onto your clit again, tongue lashing against the bud until that knot tightened. He pushed two fingers in, curving them up as his mouth worked you over the final push.

You couldn't take it anymore.

Back arching as you came undone against his face, his fingers pumping in a steady rhythm as he lapped at your clit with the broad flat of his tongue.

It was all too much.

Your vision came back slowly, white fading back into color as Caleb pushed himself up, chin glistening with the juices from your release.

He looked debauched, like a stranger, and then he gave you that reassuring smile that made your pounding heart stop for a moment.

He was still your Caleb even after all of this.

He pressed a kiss against your stomach, glancing up at your face before releasing his evol. "You okay? Ya look a little...breathless up there." He was teasing you after giving you the best orgasm of your life.

Classic Caleb.

You rolled your eyes at his antics but nodded, stretching slowly as you regained sensation in your buzzing limbs. "Mhmm...What about you?"

You still haven't touched him yet much to your dismay.

He tilted his head curiously, eyes dark in the dim lighting. "Don't worry about me baby, there's time for all that later." He kissed your forehead, pressing another just above your brow. "Gotta make sure you have another reason to come visit me in Skyhaven next time."

He rolled onto his side, pulling you against his chest so that he was spooning you. You could feel the press of his tented boxers against your ass but you didn't comment on it.

He could torture himself all he wanted, he was your pink rabbit for the night after all.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

[sturnlsstuff]

MISSED YOU | chris sturniolo

| ".... god, i hate that i missed you so much"

pairing: dealer!chris x fem!reader

summary: your dealer has been out of town for almost two weeks and after he's finally back, he texts you needing to see you.

warnings; smut, dom!chris, sub!reader, p in v, pet names, praising, unprotected sex, dirty talking, hair pulling, rough sex, car sex, crying, public¿ sex, cursing, mdni

a/n: literally my first fanfic after a looong time so please bear with me, if its bad... you know why. english isnt my first language so sorry for any mistakes! also its a little long 😭 part two here !!

~~~

she laughed at some joke her friend made and took another bite of her pizza. it was late friday afternoon, she and her bestfriends were hanging out, since there was nothing else to do. everything was great, until her phone buzzed. she looks at her screen, immediately smiling when she sees his name. she wasn't even aware that her lips had curved into a smile.

her friends were too busy with their own conversation, so she uses her moment and grabs her phone, reading the message from chris. she hasn't heard from him in over two weeks, she had no clue what he was doing, or where he was. she also didn't want to ask, hating the feeling of being too desperate. and it's not like he owns her any explanation either.

chris: u busy?

she bites her lip, fighting the urge to smile again as she replies back.

y/n: hi to you too

y/n: yeah im out with friends, whats up

chris: having fun?

chris: when u gonna be home ma?

y/n: like in an hour or so

chris: can u hurry up? c'mon kid i miss ya

y/n: you do???

she can't help but genuinely grins this time, her eyes widen a little. did he miss her? or was he just saying that to make her give in? he always knew how to talk to her, to make her going feral over him. but she wanted to believe he means it this time.

chris: hell yeah i do

chris: get ur ass out here

she looks at her friends, that were still yapping about something, that she couldn't care less about right now. she needed to see him. he never said he missed her before.

y/n: then come pick me up, im sending u the address

chris: omw gorgeous

chris is already in his car, when she sends him the address. not being able to see her for over two weeks, made him think. A lot. he has been her drug dealer for over a year now, there was tension between them since the beginning, so it didnt take them long to finally fuck at some party a few months ago. and since then, it's happening every now and then, usually they meet to smoke together, then they end up all over each other.

after a few minutes, he parks the car in front of the pizzeria, finally seeing her. she made a stupid excuse for her friends to leave, not being able to hide her excitement, so they just could assume what was going on.

chris gets out of the car, looking her up and down, licking his lips as she was only wearing a black crop top and baggy camo pants. he personally loved those, especially on her.

he opens the door for her, a smirk playing on his lips. "get in."

she tried her hardest to act casual, but just seeing him after a while, in all black outfit, was enough to make her dizzy. and she could swear he got a haircut. his hair was so much shorter, and she loved it.

she smiles, keeping the eye contact while getting inside the car. he closes the door, his eyes roaming all over her body as she walked towards him. he snaps back to reality, getting to the other side and climbing back into the drivers seat. he was feeling so many things that he couldn't express.

"missed me so bad, you couldn't wait an hour, huh?" she speaks up, putting on the seatbelt and looking over at him, while he starts the car.

she notices the way he looks her up and down, his eyes stopping at her exposed skin a little too long.

"i've missed my favorite customer." he smirks, going back to the eye contact.

"yeah, your favorite customer... right." she says sarcastically, trying her hardest to keep her cool and not to blush under his stare.

he grins before replying, focused on keeping his hands on the wheel instead of her body. it was getting harder with every second. "yeah, the one i always gotta give free stuff to."

"oh, dont act like i force you to do this..." she scoffs, still looking at him. "you know i always want to pay you."

"i know y'do... doesn't mean i will stop givin' it to you for free though."

"see, and that's crazy."

chris rolls his eyes, loving and hating at the same time, how she always had to talk back to him. he's driving, planning to go to her house, but the way she's looking right now, and especially her attitude, is making him crazy. he feels his dick getting harder with every second.

"whatever, ma. i know you secretly like it."

"yeah, sure." she mumbles with sarcastic tone, her eyes still watching him. seeing him driving was one of her favorite things in the world, he always looked so good. she appreciates, that he gives her stuff for free or cuts down her prices, but dealing was his job, he was making money out of it, so she always felt bad when he didnt want her cash. "what made you busy for so long? thought the cops caught or some shit"

chris bites his lip, his eyes glancing over to her for a second, before focusing back on the road. he never felt so desperate like right now, just having her in his car like that...

once he hears her question, he snaps back to reality and smiles. "the cops? please, sweetheart, they can suck my dick."

chris changes his direction, spotting an empty parking lot and he drives there. "i was out of town, had to deal with some business... nothin' to worry about now." he explains, parking and turning off his car, and his stare travels to her, scanning her face and body. "you're so curious...."

she nods, now understanding why he wasn't texting her these past two weeks, she was a bit ashamed 'cause she honestly thought maybe he got bored of her, so she didn't text him either. she still got some weed until yesterday, so she also had no reason to.

"why would you stop here?" she asks, looking at him with a little frown, but once she sees his smirk, the realization hits her. the excitement filling her body, the tension between them so noticeable, it makes her shiver.

he stares at her for a moment, adjusting his pants and then suddenly he unbuckles his seatbelt, sitting back in his seat so there was more space now.

"c'mere."

her eyes travels down on his lap, seeing the noticeable big bulge even through his jeans. she blushes slightly, looking back at him, the smirk still playing on his lips and it makes her weak in her knees.

"chris..." he cuts her off by reaching over and grabbing her chin, tilting her face closer to his.

"y'gonna do what i said, or keep talking back?"

she immediately unbuckles her seatbelt, moving over the center console and she gets into his lap, straddling him. she wasn't gonna act like she didn't miss him too, because, goddamn, she did. she presses herself onto his hard dick, watching him closely, and seeing how desperate and frustrated he was right now. It made her feel a little bit of a power, that she decided to take advantage of.

"now, was that so hard, ma?" he smirks even more, trying to hide his growing need for her, but his hands moves to grip onto her thighs. he felt the urge to touch her all over.

"you know, fifteen more minutes and we would be at my place-"

"you really think, i would wait fifteen fucking minutes, when i havent seen you for two weeks, and you look like that?" he loves the way she looks at him, with such admiration. she was so pretty in his eyes, he never felt this type of desperation for anyone ever before.

"and who's fault is that?" his hands grips her tighter and puts her closer in on his lap, making a little bit of friction, that he so desperately needs. his fingers digging into her skin, while he stares into her eyes.

"shut up for once, yeah?"

"make me." she smirks, challenging him. he doesn't have to hear it twice, loving the attitude she's giving him right now. his hand moves up from her thigh to the back of her neck, pulling her face closer and he kisses her roughly, grabbing her ass with his other hand as he does.

she smiles against his lips, immediately kissing him back with the same intensity, and she grinds down against his clothed dick, feeling her own need growing with every second. she missed the way he kissed her, she missed his lips, his hands all over her, his body against hers. she missed him and she hated to admit that.

she slides her tongue into his mouth, he bites her lip in response and lets her lead the kiss. moving up his hips to feel her more and not being able to hold back, he groans against her lips. he never felt so needy before. he pulls away for a moment to speak, and starts trailing kisses down her neck, squeezing her ass, before his hand moves up, caressing the skin on her exposed stomach.

"god, i hate that i missed you so much."

it slips from his mouth, he doesn't think much about it as he sucks on her skin, but for her it meant everything. she tilts back her head, giving him more space and she grinds against his lap some more, running her hand through his brown hair. he lets out a growl as she grinds down on him, making him even harder and he bucks his hips up again. lifting up his head from her neck his stare finds hers, the noticeable lust in his eyes made her bite her lip to hold back a moan. the smirk coming back to his face once he notices her flushed cheeks.

"what 'bout you, huh, ma? missed me too?"

she closes her eyes, their face so close to each other, it makes their lips brush when she replies him back.

"yeah... i did"

he grins, his hands playing with the waistband of her pants. that's all he needed to know, that she missed him as much as he missed her. even though they both were aware, they should'nt.

"how much, hm?" he unzips her pants, she lifts herself up, gripping his shoulders to balance herself and helps him take them off. then she straddles him again, trying to hold back her smile, but not being able to.

"want me to show you?"

he groans after her words, feeling her wet panties pressing against his hard dick and he bucks up his hips again, being so desperate, that he was ready to beg her. he starts marking her neck again, his hand traveling between her legs, massaging her clit through her underwear. her breath hitches in her throat, she lets out a little whine and grips his hair slightly.

"so wet already... shiiiitttt... all this f'me, huh?" he says against her skin, bitting on it slightly and making her moan. he adds more pressure, circling over her clit. "lift this shit up."

his tone demanding, he wasn't asking. she lifts up her top, revealing her breasts. he looks at her now, his eyes going back and forth between her tits, and her face. "fuck... not wearing a bra? fuckin' slut..."

he licks her hard nipple, then starting sucking on it. her hand tightens in his hair, tilting her head back and she lets out more whimpers. she was supposed to be the one in control this time, she craved it and saw how needy he is, but the way he's touching her, makes her losing her mind. he then pulls her panties to the side, running his fingers through her wet folds and suddenly putting one inside her. not even giving her any time, he just starts pumping in and out, adding another finger after a moment, now stretching her out. he pulls away from her nipple, looking at her face.

"c-chris..." she moans quietly, trying her hardest to keep the eye contact, but struggles to do so. her hands now traveling down his chest and unbuckling his belt.

"yeah, ma? y'like that?" he tries to keep his cool, still working his fingers inside her dripping pussy, curling them and making her whine in response. "look at you... so, fuckin' desperate on my lap. missed my fingers, huh? want some more?"

she desperately nods, squeezing around his fingers, but once he feels that, he pulls them out immediately putting them in his mouth to lick them clean. she whines, pouting her lips when he stops.

"show me how much you missed this dick then."

she bites her lip, unzipping his pants and with his help, she pulls them down to his knees, his boxers following after a second. chris leans his head back against the seat, gripping her hips as she gives him a few strokes before pulling her underwear to the side. she runs her thumb over his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it all over his cock, using it as a lubricant and then she lowers herself slowly on his cock, the movement making them both moan out loud with pleasure. she stays like this for a moment, needing to adjust after these past two weeks without him.

"fuckk...so tight...your pussy was made f'me.." he groans, tightening his grip on her hips and he watches her closely, as she finally starts moving on him. he’s holding himself back from moving up his hips and taking over, trying so hard not to thrust into her. he loves the feeling of her body against his and he’s missed it so much. he needed it, he needed her and he hated that. the feeling just kept growing, making the space in the car feel even smaller.

he pulls her back down into another kiss, this time more sloppy, continuing to move his tongue against hers, tasting her. she kisses him back, starting speeding up her pace and now bouncing on him harder. his dick hitting just all the right spots, making her moan loudly while chris tries to focus on the kiss and not to lose his composure. he wanted to take over, he always did, but the feeling of her riding him like that, has him gripping the seat. he grits his teeth, trying to keep himself together and he knows his patience wont last long. he looks up at her again, his eyes glued to her face.

"fuckkkk, ma.... takin' all of me so well... shit..." he hisses, when she speeds up even more. "so good.... s-so good f'me...."

she grips into his shoulders more, moaning loudly at his praises and she continues moving. chris is in complete ecstasy as she picks the pace up, a feeling like he hasn’t experienced before. there's just something about her on top and taking what she wants, that's got him feeling so many things at once.

“fuck.. just like that” one of his hands grab her ass, giving it a squeeze and then slapping it. "fuckin' slut... you like it? fucking in my car? takin' it just like a little bitch.... yeah? shitttt..."

he moans now not being able to hold back, and he starts thrusting into her. she gasps for air, her eyes closing shut as she tightens around him. "oh, wanna cum, huh? not yet darlin'...." he grips her hips more, his tip hitting her g-spot with every move.

"chris i-"

she cuts herself off with another moan, not being able to think straight. she digs her nails into the back of his neck, her head falling down on his shoulder and he immediately stops. her eyes snap open, she lifts up her head to look at him, a smirk playing on his lips.

"you better don't look away f'me, ma.... wanna see your pretty face y'know? and keep makin' those sexy little sounds...got it?"

she nods, but it's not enough from him as he speaks up again. "use your words baby, c'mon... you aint that fucked out of your mind yet, hm?"

"i got it, just... please..." she whines, moving her hips, wanting to bounce on him again, but he stops her. she pouts. "chrissss......"

"get to the backseat." he demands, after scanning her face for a while. he wanted to give her all the pleasure she deserves. he wasn't even thinking about himself, he couldn't care less about his release. he just needed to make her feel good, making sure no one else can do what he can.

she pulls away from him, now moving over the center console again, struggling a bit but she gets into the backseat. chris obviously smacks her ass as she does, what makes her squeak.

"chris!"

but he just smirks, pulling off his pants and boxers all the way down and throwing it on the passenger seat, so it wasn't in the way. he gets on the back himself, there was little space, but enough to get into his favorite position. chris puts his hand on her back, forcing her to get on her knees and hands on the seat, as he positions himself behind her. chris loves the way he can get her all desperate and begging, so he teases her now. he moves his tip along her folds, making her whine. then he slowly puts it in, but after a few seconds he pulls back again.

"chris...." she whines, knowing he's playing with her now.

"yeah, baby?"

she bites her lip, her face pressing into the seat and she lifts up her hips more. "stop teasing me, please...."

he grins even more, slapping her pussy with his dick and then he suddenly pulls his cock all the way in, making her gasp and scream out of pleasure. the new angle let him hit all of her sweet spots.

"whatever you want, princess." he starts thrusting into her with a very intense and fast pace, going as deep as he could. the car now filled up with her moans and the sounds of skin slapping against each other. he grips her hips tight, keeping her in place. he can feel her squeezing around his cock again, and he lets out a growl. "c'mon.... cum all over me...wanna see you while y'do..."

chris moves one of his hands, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, having a good view on her face. her mouth wide open, letting out loud moans, her eyes rolling back.

"oh my god!" she cries out, gripping the edge of the seat like her life depended on it and she releases, the wet, squelching sound coming from her now louder. he groans, kissing her neck and whispering into her ear.

"you feel so good... cummin' like that f'me... such a good girl.."

she moans, squeezing around him again, the overstimulation now making her shiver as he keeps going with the crazy pace, not slowing down at all. he lets go of her hair, her head immediately falling onto the seat and he grips by her hips again, making sure she feels him as deep as he wants her to. he growls, being on the edge himself.

"i'm... close.." he mutters, throwing his head back. "gonna fill you up, yeah?"

she whines nodding desperately, but then he smacks her ass giving her a sign to answer verbally.

"shit! yes, fuck, yes chris, please!" she feels tears filling up her eyes from the pleasure, a few of them coming down her cheeks moment later. chris bites his lip, feeling her tightening around him. he moves one of his hands between her legs, now rubbing her clit, while still thrusting hard into her, but his movements getting sloppier. she cries out, her legs trembling and his dick twitches, finally cumming inside her, his warm sticky release filling her up and dripping out of her. he curses under his breath, digging his fingers into her skin, leaving bruises as he does. she feels him cumming, and the overstimulation from him lazily massaging her clit and still hitting her g-spot, makes her finish again. the pressure in her stomach now becoming too much, unable to hold back, she feels the liquid squirts out of her in waves.

his eyes snap open, looking down at her and he growls. he slows down until he eventually stops, after they both ride out their highs, this time not wanting to overstimulate her. looking at the mess she made, he can't help but feel a bit cocky about it.

"shit, ma.... squirtin' all over me, huh? is it how it is now?" he smirks, a little surprised that he made her do that but he couldn't be more proud. he pulls out of her, letting go of her hips and her body immediately falls onto the seat. she's breathing heavily, not being able to reply yet. "that's my fuckin' girl.."

he runs his fingers along her inner thigh, collecting her and his cum and he leans in a bit, covering over her. he looks at her fucked out expression and the smudged mascara on her cheeks. "look at me."

she opens her eyes, her mind blank, body shaking. he puts his fingers into her mouth, she immediately cleans them up, tasting both his and her release on her tongue, making sure she keeps the eye contact with him while she does that.

"you're so hot." he says now kissing the tears on her cheeks away. "took me so well..."

she smiles, seeing his flushed cheeks and messy hair sticking to his forehead. it was her favorite view.

"y'good, kid? don't go all mute on me now.."

"don't call me that...." she mumbles, trying to get her sarcastic attitude back, but she was absolutely spent right now. "i'm fine."

he just grins, gently patting her cheek before he pulls away. she slowly lifts herself up, trying to fight her trembling legs and she sits up now, facing him. not being able to do anything more yet, her glare moving to her legs and the seat she made mess on. she feels her cheeks growing hotter, now suddenly embarrassed and trying to ignore his stare. this never happened to her with him before and she didn't know what he thought about it.

"sorry about... the seats" she mumbles, grimacing.

he raises his eyebrows, now seeing her embarrassment and he doesn't understand why. it was a little surprising but he felt so proud. he already wanted to make her do it all over again. "you f'real? don't even say sorry, ever again."

she's still not so sure, blushing even more as he wipes her cheeks from the smudged mascara and then runs his hand through her hair, trying to fix it a little bit. he smiles softly. "gonna clean this up later, don't you worry 'bout that, okay?"

chris then reaches into the center console for the tissues, grabbing them and spreading her legs with his hands. she watches him closely seeing how he starts just gently cleaning her up. this simple movement makes her feel the heat rising from her cheeks down to her neck, so she just covers her face with her hands shyly. not really being able to understand why is she so embarrassed this time, he grabs her wrists, forcing her hands to move away from her face.

"y'gotta be kiddin' me. don't hide from me, ma." chris mutters. "not when you made such pretty mess in my car."

with a quiet sigh, she lets him take her hands off of her face. she chews on her bottom lip nervously while he goes back to cleaning her up, touching her slightly as she was made from some kind of glass. it was even cute, how he just made sure she was fine. it's not their first rough sex, but this one was definitely more intense and for some reason felt so... different. she had this strange feeling in her chest, just seeing him focused on wiping her legs and how he didn't seem to care about his covered in her release seats. once he's done, he sits beside her, wrapping his hand around her shoulder and pulling her close. she doesn't like the silence, even if before it was never awkward, this one was bothering her as she couldn't stop feeling unfamiliar emotions.

"i ran out, by the way." she suddenly blurts out, making him laugh. there was no way in hell this girl was real.

"yeah? good to know. gonna give y'some more later."

"im paying this time."

"oh, you've paid enough already." she immediately looks up at him, smacking his shoulder and he chuckles in response, pretending to be in pain. "woaaahh, bein' a little brat again, hm?"

"that's not funny, im giving you money." her tone shows no objection, he smirks and nods, knowing he won't take anything from her anyway. they sit like that for a moment, before he speaks up, knowing he will get another hit after that.

"soooo... round two?"

"christopher, i swear to god."

_____________________________

a/n: oh my god this seems sooo long 😭 tell me what yall think, i feel like i kinda fucked up with the whole dealer vibe but lmk please! i honestly enjoyed writing that so who knows..

[awrkive]

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 1 — JJK

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, (eventual) smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.2k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3 mature language, this chapter's pretty tame (for now) but theres a lot of FLIRTING, if u squint this story is a mosaic of every shows i love lmfao, for the apartment complex just imagine the namil villa from the kdrama fight for my way NB!JK VISUALS

NOTES hello im back!!!!! remember the jk in tech xmas fic i told you about last year? this is it except its not a xmas fic anymore lmfao. had an idea to make it a full blown story and im just sooo excited to share it with u guys on this platform!!!!! if ur from wattpad, the chapter system is gonna be a little different here but the content is not <3 anyway let me know what u guys think!

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO

You never settled your relationship with the summer season. To put it simply, it was a love and hate sort of thing; you liked that it was dry, and the air always felt like it was filtered and healthy even though you were well-aware of the current shit-state of the Earth's ozone layer. There were beams and sunlights and street vendors and people lying on the park's ground. Summer felt nostalgic, like the first time you bought a vinyl in highschool and listened to Fleetwood Mac in secret because your mom was certain they peddled cocaine and all sorts of illegal drugs, and with a highschool friend you no longer talk to, not because of a friendship-breaking betrayal but something more melancholic than that like drifting apart as you got older — the ambience, generally, was what you loved the most about it.

But regardless of those, summer got hot. Sure, you could forgo layers of clothing and it was always nice to lounge about in short bottoms and strapless tops and sandals, but at the end of the day, you needed to set your AC on the lowest temp, and it cranks up your monthly rent a greater percentage which causes a detrimental result to your monthly pay. (And you always had to reapply make-up every now and then whenever you went outside because if not, you'd be a sweating mess.)

In the grand scheme of things, though, there was nothing more than you disliked than Park Jimin, your best friend since college, asking you to be his plus-one on his mom's birthday dinner. For the second time.

“I told you, Jimin, I’m not doing that anymore. Your mom called me fat and recommended a bunch of expensive skin care products to treat one single zit on the side of my forehead the last time you brought me there. I hid that with my bangs and she still saw it, like what the hell? The baked lasagna might have tasted good but I’m not stepping one foot in your house ever again.” You spat out, rolling your eyes at your friend who just dramatically flopped himself on your bed.

“Okay, so I’m really sorry about my mom. She’s a…” He trailed off, looking at you with meaningful eyes that weighed words you knew he couldn't exactly say without feeling bad, and you sighed. Nodded in understanding. Jimin’s face contorted into a cringed expression at that. “... yeah. But! Please. I swear! This is the last time. I just really need you to be there. They’re setting me up with Heesu, okay? You know that snotty nepo baby of the Kang clan who owns Kang Tech?”

“Jimin, you’re a nepo baby.”

He hit you with a pillow. “I am but I can earn a hundred thousand won without my family’s money. They can cut my credit cards and I'll still be thriving.”

You broke the serious demeanor and laughed loudly at his seemingly confident claim.

“I’m sorry but you could not even get a job at a burger joint without some nepotism let alone have a hundred thousand without your dad’s credit cards. Bitch, you’re just lying.”

“Fuck you. I was employee of the week at Seventh Street Burger.” He backfired, referring to that point in time in your sophomore year where you picked up a part time job during the summer at a burger joint and Jimin just decided to come along randomly. He got it because the owner knew of his dad.

“Yeah, because Sowon had a crush on you?” You said, remembering the owner’s daughter, who was also helping out at the store at that time. She was so smitten by Jimin you almost felt bad for her.

“Okay, fair, point taken. No need to be such a bitch about it,” Your best friend said with a dismissive wave of his hand, telling he was over it. You only laughed at that, boisterously, might you add, just to piss him off for no reason. Jimin deadpanned. “But seriously. I think they’re planning to marry me off to Heesu.”

Your face fell out of genuine concern this time.

“Oh my god, really?”

Jimin once again cringed visibly. “Yeah. I mean from a business lense it makes sense. But me marrying at 33? That makes me – like – a child groom.”

“Oh… yeah…” you trailed off, sympathizing with him. Not that you've ever been in the situation where your parents forced you in a sham marriage for their own wealth because there was no wealth to begin with. But you felt bad for Jimin. You always have, when it came to this particular subject.

You knew how it was with rich people, having known Jimin for almost half your life. It was true that arranged marriages were still a thing, and while Jimin seemed that he could pretty much do everything he wanted because of his free-spirited nature, his parents could still most likely make him marry someone he barely knew. Solely for business.

“Ugh.” Jimin groaned. “Should I just come out at the dinner so they can stop linking me to women? I’m gay as fuck, man. My cousin Park Youngdam would have a field day given that homophobic fucktard has been calling me the f word ever since he learned it in seventh grade.”

You shook your head, visibly cringing at his words. You didn't have family yourself. It was your mom who raised you alone for all your life, until she died five years ago. Didn't know any extended family. But frankly, you thought it was better that way than to deal with a complicated family like Jimin's.

“Nah. I mean if you’re ready, well, do it. But like, your parents are…” You two shared a look together again, and Jimin just slapped his palms over his face, indicating his doom. Your face twisted with another shot of deeper sympathy for him.

“This is it for me. They’ll marry me off to Kang Heesu and we’ll fly to the US and live in Massachusetts to fulfill her white picket fence fantasy. I’ll be a miserable husband and she'll be an even more miserable wife because she’ll eventually find out I’m gay. The neighbors will start talking and the white republicans will shun me out of the town church. We’ll have a surrogate baby and—”

“Jimin, what the fuck!” You hit him hard on his arm as you couldn't keep a straight face anymore at his dramatic monologue. “You’re not gonna marry Heesu and you won't live in fuckass Massachusetts and no one’s gonna shun you out of the town church and you won't have a surrogate baby.”

“It’s a possibility.” Jimin shrugged.

“I feel like you're guilt-tripping me into agreeing to be your date again at your mom's birthday dinner and I think that's very evil of you.” You said, squinting your eyes at him.

“Well, duh? But also, I’m really kind of lowkey highkey scared they’ll marry me off to someone now that I’m pushing forty.”

"You're quite literally seven years away from forty." You countered.

He looked at you with an expression of I know right! And he told you so.

"That's what I said to mom and dad, but they're acting like my sperm will freeze next year. God, I can't stand them!" 

Jimin, for all his jokes and unserious and bitchy behavior, was someone extremely important to you. Yeah, sure, he was rich as hell and he annoys you when he says something that reeks of too much nepotism but he was never intentionally snotty, never thinks he was better than everyone else (Jokes about how he thinks he has the fattest and juiciest ass in the world, though), and he wasn't at all like the rich people you've had the misfortune of interacting with at his mom's birthday party last year. He might be a self-proclaimed bitch but if you put him together with those people, he might as well be one of God's disciples.

For all his crass language and rather strong personality, Jimin was a doting friend who was there for you every single time. You could call him up at 3 am and he’d be at your door bringing Chinese take out and two tubs of ice cream, ready to hear you vent about your stupid job or a guy that you fumbled by being weird and off-putting because you didn't know how to handle a relationship. He was the kind of friend who would defend you in front of anyone else but will mercilessly tell you off and list down all points of your stupidity once you were in closed doors. He was the kind of friend that would ask you to be his pretend partner at a birthday dinner party, but he was your best friend ultimately and even if you had a big problem with his family and their extremely traditional (read: toxic) ways, you didn't want him to be pressured into coming out just so he could avoid to be engaged off to another random heiress. Didn't want him to do something he wasn't ready for. Didn't want him hurt or anything of the sort.

The last dinner wasn't even that bad, if you were to be honest. His parents were shitty, yeah sure, and the other guys in there that consisted of politicians and businessmen and people in the showbiz industry were something taken out of the toilet bowl for how stinky their elitist, better-than-you personalities were, but you both just totally forgot all about it by getting wasted at the local bar right after leaving. Not that his mom’s words didn't sting a bit or didn't make you a little conscious, but at the end of the day, you weren't actually dating Jimin so you didn't care what his parents thought of you.

Additionally, you didn't have something planned for the next two weeks when the birthday would be happening. You were supposed to, but that ship has long sailed when you fumbled a date with the guy at the IT department. For the record, you didn't really like him that much and he talked too much about his job and while you didn't mind that, it was getting a little too tiring. If you wanted IT lessons you would’ve majored in it in college. Still, Shin Taemu was handsome. And he wore those rounded glasses. Was tall. Had nice arms. Too bad he wanted to be the next Mark Zuckerberg. Fuck that guy.

“Ugh, I don't know,” you groaned. “It's just so disgusting to be your girlfriend, okay?”

Jimin audibly gasped. “How dare you? A lot would jump on this ass.” He said with incredulity seeping through his voice, pointing to his bum.

You rolled your eyes. “Not me, obviously. Before you take offense—”

“Offense taken.”

“—it’s just that you're like my cousin and when you call me honey I want to crawl out of my own skin.”

Jimin laughed at that while you looked miserable, remembering those moments from last year. Seriously, how could you have fooled anyone in that party that you were banging? You swore you looked like Ariana Grande and Troye Sivan in that one music video? (Jimin was the one who showed that meme to you, by the way.)

“So I won't call you honey. Just babe.”

“Ew.” You quickly retaliated.

“Ohh, the homophobia is sho-wing.” Jimin sing-sang, ever the mature individual he was.

“Fuck off, seriously.”

Jimin just giggled and then scooted closer to you. “No but like, are you coming? ‘Cause jokes aside, I'm just gonna find someone else if you really don't wanna do it. But you know you're always my first choice.”

“First choice when you do some stupid shit.” you countered, rolling your eyes for the nth time that night. Jimin would be the cause of your eye surgery if ever they got dislocated or something.

“That’s my biggest act of love.”

“I don't want it.”

“I’ll double what I paid you last year.”

“Double it again and give it to the next person?”

Jimin flipped you off. “I’ll give you my nintendo and I’ll get you a card at that coffee shop you love so much.”

That caught your attention. You raised your brow. “On god?”

“When did I ever lie to you?”

You deadpanned. “We won't finish this conversation if I list all the times—”

“Okay, okay, point taken. But I'm really serious. Please, please, please, please be my pretend girlfriend on my mom's birthday party please, please—”

“Shut up. Ugh,” you could already feel the big smile creeping up Jimin’s face when you let out a big sigh. “Okay, I’ll do it. Buy me boba now.”

Jimin tackled you to the bed and hugged you and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you! Best best friend ever.” he delightfully said, grinning widely, eyes almost disappearing in his triumph.

Your face contorted into a disgusted expression while Jimin just laughed as you pushed him so hard he almost fell off the bed.

“You are a disgusting limpy sack of dicks! Also, I’m not your best best friend, you don't have a wide selection. I'm your best friend. Period.”

“Unfortunately.” He waved you off and when you were about to retort something his phone suddenly rang. You watched quietly as he put it over his ear. “Hey, you just landed?”

If it was a private conversation Jimin would've left the room but since he didn't, you decided to stay in bed, kind of listening in to the conversation, but also not, as you turned the volume down of the show you were watching earlier on your laptop.

“Nah, you want me to pick you up?” Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. “Sure, I’m free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?” He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. “Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?”

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, “Well, my cousin’s apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on.”

“Is that one of the non-problematic twenty percent cousin lineage of your very complicated family tree?" You asked, referring to him telling you one time that his family, including the extended ones, was eighty percent shitty and twenty percent decent.

Jimin chuckled at the inside joke. "Well, yeah, he's one of the good ones. Knows I'm gay."

"Oh, nice."

Jimin stood up from your bed. “I’ll get you your boba and head off. Gotta pick cousin up or he’ll start throwing tantrums at the airport.”

“Add extra pearls please.” You told him, watching as he clicked away on his phone to get you your drink.

“I spoil you too much.” Jimin said, clicking his tongue, eyes still on his phone.

“What are you here for if not my glorified sugar daddy?”

“I will kill myself in front of you.” Jimin deadpanned, getting a chuckle out of you.

You didn't know the psychology — or if there even was psychology — behind feeling embarrassed when you were about to cross a path while carrying huge boxes. It was a normal task, and yet, it always felt like a huge walk of shame when you did it.

It was probably because you had to carry it over a flight of stairs, and there was no way you wouldn't trip on yourself carrying two heavy boxes in your hands that were already disrupting your vision.

Maybe it was your fault for choosing the pick-up option when you were checking out these furniture online, all because there was a huge increase on the fee for door-to-door delivery. For the record, there was a huge gap and the boxes were not really that heavy to the point you could not carry them both. It's just a lamp and a portable desk, you thought a week ago when you opted for the pick-up option, I could carry it all the way to the unit just fine — and obviously, your delusion has resulted to this very moment.

As soon as you managed to walk over five steps, you felt as if your oxygen supply just got cut back, panting like someone fresh from a marathon. Damn. You definitely needed to work out a little. Maybe do some squats for your New Year’s resolution, commit to it for three days straight then forget about it for the next 362 days of the year.

You looked ahead of you and a string of curses let themselves out of your mouth automatically as you estimated the number of stairs you needed to get through to get to your apartment.

This day sucked! It was Sunday and you planned to wake up at five am to have a productive day but then you slept through your five alarms and woke up at eleven am instead. You ran out of eggs and you had to go to the convenience store to eat a sad meal of yogurt and kimbap. And now there were these boxes that you needed to carry over what seemed to look like six million of stairs. You weren't Sisyphus! And where were your goddamn neighbors when you needed them?

"You need help, ma'am?"

"Jesus Christ—" you turned to look to your right only to see a man who seemed to own the previous voice.

And Jesus Christ, indeed.

He was wearing a white shirt and some shorts, Nike sliders on his feet and a pair of headphones on. He was wearing glasses. And he had a tattoo sleeve.

What the fuck.

What the fuck!

It has been so long since you thought a man was crazily attractive. Okay, well sure, the guys from the IT department were something else (or you just had a weird eyeglasses fetish, Jimin once pointed out, that you still — to this day — vehemently try to deny) but you’ve never been this taken aback by someone’s face before.

The guy’s lips tilted a bit, some sort of greeting maybe, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed, fearing that he caught you looking at him longer than necessary.

Oh god. This was pathetic! He was a stranger! He was a man! He just had a cute face attached to a very good body with an arm full of tattoos and he was tall but you were sure he wasn’t six feet two. Also, he had hair that looked fluffy from where you stood and a pair of eyeglasses but Jimin was just bluffing when he said you had a fetish for them. Right?

You were performing mental gymnastics until you realized he was asking a question.

"Oh! Uh, no, thank you. It's fine." You said, embarrassed at the way you almost jumped in surprise earlier.

But the whole thing was ridiculous. What, because there was a very fine man across from you the universe suddenly decided to fuck up your fate by making you be seen by that very man struggling with boxes all the way up to your unit? Couldn't it just have been on a day when you did your make-up and dressed up in that overpriced dress you bought hundred bad choices ago?

You fumbled with the boxes a little bit before continuing your way up, nevermind the guy whose response you didn't wait for because you needed to get the fuck away from him before you say something weird and off-putting.

Truthfully, you could use the help. But at what cost? A fine man carrying them? Okay, that wasn’t so bad. But what were you supposed to do with... all of that?

As if the universe was indeed trying to prove to you that you were, in fact, not its favorite creation, you almost tripped. And the guy most definitely saw it.

Fuck.

You turned to the side to see him looking at you, concern etching his face. You wanted to convince yourself that it was genuine concern because you'd commit something that would totally change the trajectory of his life if he was to laugh.

But you thought his own unit must be way up as well, as he was going to the same path as you, and if that was the case, he must have been a new neighbor in the complex because you've never seen the man before.

“Well, it’s not that heavy but…” you trailed off, looking blankly at the cardboard boxes. And then at him. "I could use some help, if you don't mind."

The guy just chuckled. Oh wow, his laugh was very... low.

You didn’t even know what the fuck that meant.

“I’ll get them for you.” He said, crossing the small distance between you and taking over the pile, leaving you with nothing in your hands.

“Oh, no, I’ll have that one. It’s fine.” You said, stepping closer to take the other one but he was already securing it in his hold, with stability this time, ready to take off.

He let out a small laugh again and you bit your tongue to not think about how cute he looked. If he was a new tenant, you hoped you didn't cross paths with him ever again.

"It's okay, ma'am."

He's got to stop calling you that before you do something drastic.

“It’s quite far from here, I'm all the way up to three-three-six.” You uttered, pointing forward, a few steps behind the guy, who hummed at what you said.

You quickly caught up to him. "Really, thanks for doing this."

"No problem, it's nothing." He said, smiling at you. Warm and kind. All cute. "I'm all the way up to four-four-six as well."

Your eyes widened. "No way, that's just across mine."

The stranger, apparently your neighbor now, grinned.

"Nice coincidence, huh?"

A sheepish smile formed on your lips. You didn't dwell on that comment too much. Knew it was just small talk.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you a new tenant here?” You asked out of genuine curiosity. You had never seen someone come out of the unit across from you out of all the four years you'd been here.

He nodded, agreeing with what you presumed.

"Yeah. Just temporary, though.”

“Oh…” A surprised sound. Maybe it was a good thing he was only staying temporarily... “I hope I didn’t inconvenience you or anything. You really don’t need to bring the boxes over to my apartment.”

The man just chuckled, dismissing your worry. “You looked like you could use a hand, these boxes are big. Anyway, I was just out checking 'round town. Settling in.”

From the sound of it, you'd assume he was not only moving in in a new apartment complex, but new city as well. Perhaps country? But he most definitely looked Korean. But maybe he came from abroad. Who knows.

“Yeah, there's a really nice coffee shop three blocks away. You should check it out sometime. Ji—my friend and I are obsessed with their iced caramel macchiato. And the boba.”

His brows furrowed in pure interest. “That must've been the one I passed by this morning. I’ll make sure to try that one.”

“You really should. And the barista gives you a brownie on Sundays if he likes you.” You shared like it was gossip, mentally taking note to visit the cafe sometime this week.

“And I'm sure not everybody gets the privilege?” The guy looked at you funny, and that made you laugh.

"Of course, yes! You have to earn it, I think. I feel like I spent over a million there before he started giving me brownies."

"Hope my charm works on him as well," he said, and it caught you off guard.

What did he mean, "as well"? Like he was speaking from the basis that you had charm and so he hoped he had it as well to get the barista to like him?

"Well. He's strict." Was all you could say, before you spotted your apartment. "Hey, I'll take it over from here."

The guy looked over the plated number on the door, reading three-three-six just as you said earlier. Trudging forward, he set the boxes down on the side of the porch.

"Thank you, really. This was really nice of you."

You extended your gratitude once again as if you didn't spend the walk up to here thanking him non-stop, sounding like a broken record. Thank god the guy didn't seem to mind your over-the-top gratitude, only waving his hand.

"Told you, it's fine. You need help with a few boxes again and just ring me up across," He joked, turning around slightly and looking at the door across your unit, Unit 446. It earned a chuckle from you. His face turned serious now, but there was still a charming smile on his face. “Hey. I’m actually pretty new in this town. I was thinking about visiting a few restaurants downtown, maybe you could recommend me some?”

You didn't mean to, but you took note the way his doe eyes seemed to shimmer even behind the frame of his glasses.

“My favorites are just, like, a ten-minute walk away. There’s this restobar near that drugstore when you turn left from this building, right?” The guy nodded, and you were slightly delighted he knew right away. “Yeah, their ramen's great, you'd thank me forever.”

He chuckled at the way you said it and you smiled.

Your interactions with new people were always a range from pure silence to oversharing; talking to them like they were your long lost friend whom you’ve milked goats with in your father’s orchard. It was probably just a product of introversion; not knowing the right approach to socializing.

“Thanks for the recommendation.” He said, a genuine appreciative tone lacing his words.

“You’re welcome. If I can ring you up to help me with some boxes, you can ring me up for some restaurant recommendation.”

"It's an exchange, then. Deal."

"Why not?" You shrugged, laughing along with him when he did so.

You both stood there for a while until seconds passed. You didn’t know exactly how to end the conversation, not that you wanted to, but there was nothing that went to your head to talk about more. And besides, he was probably headed somewhere, so you began to speak.

“Hey, so I’m going in—”

“What about we—”

“Oh.” You stopped. “Sorry, what was that?”

The guy just shook his head. “Nah, you’re probably busy. Thanks for the recommendation again.”

“No, seriously, sorry I didn't hear it the first time...”

“I was just gonna ask about the name of the restaurant.”

“It’s Midday Miso.” You told him, smiling.

“Midday Miso,” The guy nodded, “Yeah. Got it. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, and, uh, thanks. For the help.”

You took your keys out from your shorts and you didn’t expect to still see him standing in front of you when you turned around. You jokingly squinted your eyes at him.

“Yeah, you first, get in.” He said with a low chuckle.

It was a little embarrassing and pretty stupid how your heart fluttered a bit at that.

“What a gentleman you are,” You respond with a snort, opening the door to your unit and pushing the boxes inside your apartment. When they were in, you turned to look at the guy again, saying, “Okay, bye for real. See you around. Hope you like Midday Miso if you try it. And the coffee shop. It's called Brown Coffee.”

“See you around.” He did a little wave that made you both laugh before you closed the door.

When the lock system clicked, you stood on your doorway for a little while.

And then fake-cried.

You quickly clicked on Jimin's pinned contact on your phone.

You [5:35pm]: JIMINNNNNNNNN You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY BITCH IF U DONT RESPOND You [5:36pm]: I HAVE A DIABOLICAL CRUSH AND ITS GOING IN THE MEMOIRRRRRR

It wasn’t even one full minute when Jimin replied.

cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: oh my god SHUT UP!!! im at a training program for ghis stupid ass company my fathers been running fir 600 years cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: whats up cuntress #1 [5:38pm]: its always a crush and never a job 😒

You [5:39pm]: yeh so remember when i told u im oacking up my vagina last summer

cuntress #1 [5:39pm]: many such times

You [5:40pm]: 🖕 You [5:40pm]: SO raincheck!!! You [5:41pm]: COZ I just met a fine man at my apartment AND flirted with him You [5:41pm]: i think

cuntress #1 [5:42pm]: ohhhhh OK???? cuntress #1 [5:43pm]: cuntress #2 flirting???? now thats not uninteresting go on while i fake a restroom break 👀

You [5:45pm]: this story is not for the imessages baby get ur ass up and ICE CREAM WITH ME NOW.

cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: omg 😭😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: i’ll be off 7:30pm wait for me 😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:47pm]: i also have #stories to tell

You [5:49pm]: 🤭

There must be a time where you finally grow up and learn to cook.

You were a twenty-eight-year-old woman and yet, your meals sadly ranged from instant noodles, canned goods, and food from the nearby twenty-four-hour provision shop. Sometimes, you had the gall to cook something from scratch—but with scratch you meant scratching off the labels from food take-outs and reheating them in your microwave.

Jimin had told you one time you would die at twenty-nine with your lifestyle. You told him he couldn't tell you shit because he didn't know how to cook either, he just worked out and ate healthy stuff, and you did, too! But Jimin knew you, and in an evil manner, clocked you with, "Buying fresh produce and not consuming them does not count as healthy living."

Anyway, you never understood why you were so bad at cooking. Your mother, as you remembered her, was decent at it but you guessed it was because she never really taught you and you never really bothered, either. In some immature way of thinking, you'd like to think it was a win for feminism as you were battling patriarchal standards by not conforming to stereotypical "female" qualities. But deep inside, you knew cooking should be a survival skill.

Well, maybe Jimin was right and you would indeed die at the ripe age of twenty-nine. On the bright side, at least you wouldn't have to pay off your student loans and your monthly rent.

In relation, not knowing how to cook meant impractical visits to the restaurant, and that was how you ended up at Midday Miso for dinner after your shift.

It was only a little over seven pm when you entered the restaurant, the ahjumma quickly greeting you and preparing your usual, a sign of familiarity that implied your countless visits ever since moving in at your current apartment building.

Regular visits meant usual sitting spot, and in your case, it was the high stools that faced the glass walls of the restaurant's facade where you could see the busy street making that little area of the town alive.

As minutes overlapped with one another, your food was served and you were hit with the waft of the restaurant's delightful signature beef ramen and bibimbap that the ahjumma made sure to add extra beef on.

Eating with a happy heart made you feel like nothing in the world mattered but you and the food before you, so, you didn't pay attention to the person who was coming to your direction and eventually sat beside you, but what caught you off guard was when said person suddenly said,

"Hi."

When you turned to the side to see who it was, your eyes widened as you said in both recognition and surprise, "Unit 446?"

"That's me." He, Unit 446—in the flesh—said with a low chuckle, twisting himself so that he was sat appropriately on the high stool. Still, his body leaned towards you when he continued to say, "Fancy seeing you here."

You grinned, flattered at the casualness of his approach.

"Same to you. I wonder who told you about this local gem."

He pursed his lips. "A nice neighbor across my place... whom I still don't know the name of."

"Oh, shoot!" You'd face-palm right now if he wasn't looking, but truthfully, you didn't even think about that! You've just been referring to him as the Staircase Guy slash Neighbor 446 in your head and when you told Jimin about him. You laughed at the thought. "That neighbor of yours is __."

Neighbor 446 nodded and extended his hand to you

"I'm Jungkook."

It was a little silly but you shook hands, anyway, and knowing it was, indeed, silly, you both laughed together at your joint connection.

Jungkook. Huh. Not exactly a common Korean name, but it wasn't rare either. The name does ring a bell though, felt like you've heard it somewhere before.

You brushed off the familiarity as inconsequential.

Unlike the completely casual attire he adorned the first time that you met him, he was now in some sleek slacks and a white polo which sleeves were ridden up half high, which exposed the vines of ink on his right arm once again. There's a coat that hung around the back of his chair, and he had forgone the glasses this time around, which was a bit of a shame on the part of your brain that might have a silly crush on him.

Jungkook's clothes seemed to mirror your own business casual ensemble, and that made you think about what he possibly did for a living. Maybe he worked a corporate job just like you, and the prospect might have made you down a little—only because as far as you were concerned, corporate people weren't the most pleasant people you could encounter—but it was not something you dwelled on too much because you couldn't care less. If Jungkook was corporate, he sure didn't seem to be one the way he was.

Besides, you wouldn't be the one to bring up the depressing and aggravating conversation about gross grown-up things like... jobs... Eurgh. You both could just talk about the weather or how insane the ahjumma's ramen tasted for eternity.

"Well, hello, Jungkook." You greeted him. All warm and soft, testing the syllables of his name on your tongue. Rolled off well enough. He had a nice name that sure fit his face for some reason.

"Hi, __." He mirrored the soft smile on your lips, and just as he said it, the ahjumma was heading towards your direction to give him his order.

In that usual way grandmas reacted, the ahjumma gasped audibly—and dramatically, might you add—upon seeing Jungkook, but what she said next made you want to dig a hole under your seat.

"__-dear! Is this young man your boyfriend?"

Good thing you weren't consuming anything as of that moment, because it would've entered the wrong track.

"Ahjumma!" You laughed, totally not authentic at all because your face didn't match it, looking at Jungkook who just sent a shy smile her way.

Ahjumma must have seen you both talking to each other and had completely jumped to a conclusion. An insane one at that! 

Shaking your head, you clarified, "This is Jungkook. A friend. He's new in town and checking out all the stuff around here. I recommended him this place."

You saw Jungkook nodding along with your words while he helped her set his table.

The ahjumma just shook her head. "I apologize, then," She looked at Jungkook and as if gossiping with him, whispered in a not very subtle way, "I keep on telling this girl to date already! Such young beauty shouldn't be wasted, you know."

A tsk-ing sound made its way through her mouth, and as much as you were starting to feel embarrassed that she was telling on you on Jungkook—who was literally a stranger to you a day ago and whom you may have a teeny tiny bit of crush on—you knew ahjumma did not have any malicious intent and just chose to laugh the whole thing off.

You heard Jungkook do the same.

This was ridiculous.

"Ahjumma, I told you, you're gonna be the first one to know when I date. For now I'm just a part-time accountant and a full-time promoter of Midday Miso." You pout at her, trying to dodge the topic of romance altogether.

Not in front of Jungkook.

"Ayee," She gave you a side-eye. "Fine. I'll bring over some extra beef."

You mouthed an enthusiastic "yes!" and raised your fist in the air with excitement, and Jungkook looked at the interaction with a smile on his face.

As the ahjumma walked away, you looked over at him.

"I'm glad you came by—" You identified his order to be the same one you used to be obsessed with the first few months you came to the restaurant. "—and ordered their best seller. You sure know how to be a tourist."

"Looked good on the menu. The ahjumma also seems to be nice. Seems like she's a close friend, huh?" Jungkook said.

"Totally."

And it was the truth. There was just something about ahjumma that made you feel reminiscent about the grandmother you've never had. Ever since you moved in and became a regular at this place, it felt like she's taken care of you and your relationship had been special since.

"This is really good." Jungkook commented after having his second bite, and you nodded in agreement. "She was serious about the beef thing?"

You chuckled at the mention. "Yeah, she always gives me extra."

"You just always get free stuff around these areas?" Jungkook joked which earned a hearty laugh from you. You remembered telling him about the free brownie on Sundays at Brown Coffee, a little bit surprised he recalled that.

"Now that you said that, I actually do." You proudly shared. You've been in this town for so long that the various faces just went from familiar to friends.

Jungkook nodded, his face showing amusement.

"I have to learn your ways, then."

"The secret to that is be incompetent at cooking. It means it's either take-out or eat out. Business owners around here have no choice but to see me every three days because I can't cook my own meal."

You could see Jungkook's amusement growing every second, and to add faux insult to injury, he joked, "Oh, bummer."

You decided to ride along with that.

"You mean you're a good cook? That's the real bummer! And here I thought we were bonding." You said, purposefully trying to sound scandalous at his implication of being a good cook.

He shook his head instantly, chuckling. "Okay, nah. I'm not that good. Just decent. But I'll have you know I can make a mean tangsuyuk. Any other complicated stuff is out the window, so there, we are bonding."

"I appreciate that you're under the assumption that I know where to begin with the non-complicated stuff. You're already putting way too much faith in me."

"I seriously doubt that." Jungkook laughed once again.

"You know what my friend tells me? That I'd die at twenty-nine because I don't know how to cook."

Jungkook almost keeled over hearing you say the words, and as much as you were amused at his own amusement, you decided to further add on the joke because you were enjoying this way too much.

"Wow. I wouldn't doubt you'd be an accessory to my murder the way you're laughing way too hard at my impending death. That's next year, you know."

Jungkook reached over for the glass of water and drank it. While he did so, the ahjumma had come over to give you the beef she promised. You did not forgot to thank her as soon as she went away. 

You did hope Jungkook didn't notice the malicious wink she sent your way.

"Fuck, sorry." Jungkook's laughter had gone down this time, but his eyes still showed a hint of mirth when he asked, "You're twenty-eight, then?"

You nodded. "Yep." Unfortunately, you thought.

"Oh, that's actually surprising."

A gasp left your mouth. Jungkook was quick to correct himself.

"I meant it's surprising because I thought you were way younger."

Oh.

"Don't flatter me. I won't share my extra beef with you."

"I thought—" He shrugged. "—Early twenties."

"I'm guessing you are in your early twenties." You joked back.

"Okay, now, don't flatter me. I know how old I look." Jungkook said with a dismissive tone, but nevertheless light-hearted. Just like how this whole thing was going.

God, you were so in awe of how good he was at talking to you that he was practically bringing out the extrovert in you you only ever show to exclusive people like Jimin.

"So, you're like, fifty, then?"

Incredulous, Jungkook burst into laughter. "Wow."

"Sorry, just that you sounded like you were five years from retirement! Anyway, you look like we're the same age?"

He shook his head. "Three years older. Turning thirty-one later this year."

Jaw dropped. Not physically, but mentally.

"Oh wow, you're basically—" a fucking DILF! What the hell!

Thankfully you managed to cut yourself off before Jungkook could think you were way off your rocks and embarrass yourself in front of him for eternity. You could just hear Jimin from miles away telling you off about calling thirty-year-old men DILFs even though you didn't know if they had a child.

What do you mean this guy was thirty and why did that just make him even hotter in your head... He's got to stop this madness before you do something completely incomprehensible.

"—A senior." Was the lame thing you came up with to finish your sentence.

"Ouch." Jungkook said, but his word was completely opposite to the expression he was wearing on his face the way he just couldn't suppress the grin that had been visible on his mouth since you started talking.

You brought your hands up.

"Totally didn't mean that in a negative way."

Which was the entire truth. So far, the things you knew about him was that he had tattoos, a nice body, a nice personality, good ass freaking conversationalist, and that he was thirty! Thirty! As in, the peak of male hotness. The evil psychological concept of most men only getting hotter as they age.

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Jungkok nodded. "By the way, are you heading out after this?"

"Oh, yeah. Don't have anywhere else to go. I have a nine A.M tomorrow so..." you shrugged, and he nodded in understanding.

"You work as an accountant, right, from what you told the ahjumma?" Jungkook asked you curiously.

"Yeah... it's a very tedious job." You grimaced a little bit. "What about you?"

He tilted his head a bit, picking up a dumpling on his plate. "I'm a software engineer."

"Oh, that's cool."

You nodded to yourself while you processed what he said.

Works in fucking tech; another thing you just learned about him. 

You weren't actively seeking out guys in tech, but why did they seem to come to you voluntarily? God forbid you saw someone who wasn't in there! Was every man working in tech now? Was Jimin really only being truthful when he said they were exactly your type?

"Have you made any software or is that, like, a wrong assumption about you guys?"

Jungkook merely chuckled at your retort.

"Not entirely, no. I've designed a few software in college—I'm still doing it. I'm just currently doing more business stuff now." He gave you a sheepish smile. "You?"

"Well, it's just... you know—I actually work at a tech company. I'm a junior accountant. And, uh, nothing interesting, really. You get to do cool math like programming, and I get to do boring math like calculating money I don't have. It's always a great day at work." You said, couldn't help the laugh that skipped your mouth at your own sarcasm.

Nothing like joking about hating your job to someone who you just met yesterday.

"Programming and coding are not all that, either. It's tedious and... it's just a really boring job. But... it all pays the bills."

You chuckled.

"Yeah. Totally."

Without minding it, you raised the small glass of soju, initiating a toast, one that Jungkook understood immediately and met you in the middle of it.

The night was still you when you walked out of Midday Miso, but unlike any other nights, it was with Jungkook this time walking beside you.

"So you just—what—hid him for three months?"

"Well, yes! I wasn't about to get a notice for that! And besides, he was really cute. But he's in good hands now, his owner still sends me pictures of him. He's very grown and big."

"That's insane."

You peered at Jungkook who watched you in awe as you told him about the story of Alfredo, the cat whom you rescued on your way home from work a year ago. The landlady obviously had her fair share of rules and regulations in her building, and keeping pets was an absolute no, which was a shame. Definitely wasn't a shame when you first just moved in the complex, but things got lonely sometimes when you were living alone and company was almost a luxury.

Anyway, as told, you managed to keep Alfredo out of the landlady's sight until you found a highly qualified parent on some online forum who you still kept in contact with to this day.

But as you watched Jungkook, you noticed the way his expression fell into something concerning. He looked worried, which made you feel the same way as a result.

"What are you thinking?" You asked him curiously.

"Oh, nah, I was just... thinking. See, I actually have a dog."

"Oh!" You looked at him wide-eyed.

He has a dog; another thing about Jungkook that would qualify him on the regular rounds of hot boy of the month on Twitter dot com. 

"Yeah."

"You didn't read the terms and conditions of the building?" Your eyebrows formed a concerned expression.

Jungkook chuckled and shook his head. "I did. I just—suddenly thought about him, is all. He's being taken care of some place. But, you know, I missed him, and I was thinking about getting him here and showing him around my new place and all that."

"Oh... that's a bummer, then. The landlady's strict, even with the small dogs, can you imagine? Is he small, by the way, your dog?

"He's a Doberman, so definitely a big one."

"He must be really cute. What's his name?"

"Bam." He smiled at you, and you could totally see the pride showing on his face at the mention of his dog. And with a tone that you could only identify as someone who's suppressing his enthusiasm a little bit, he added, "You wanna see a picture of him?"

"Sure!"

Jungkook took out his phone from his pocket and showed you images of a big, chocolate brown dog. Bam definitely wasn't like the other regular Dobermans you'd see around. His ears weren't cropped, and his tail wasn't docked either. You didn't know if the lack of surgery was intentional from his side, but you'd like to think he kept it that way because he knew it hurt the dog greatly. From how you've been knowing him, you were certain he just didn't want to put his dog under unnecessary pain, which was honestly heartwarming to think about.

Jungkook was becoming way too good to be true in you head little by little.

"Awe, he's adorable!" You cooed, especially when he swiped through the picture of his pet, Bam, as a pup in what seemed to be Jungkook's arms based on the familiar tattoos that peeked from the exposed arm as seen on the picture. The tattoos also seemed to be new at that time as well, considering that the skin was still yet to be fully covered like now.

"I'm flattered you think that."

"Where is he, by the way? If you don't mind me asking."

"He's at a... friend's place in New York. He's not very good at flying so I didn't bring him with me here, and I thought, I'll only be here for three months, anyway, so." Jungkook shrugged.

Three months. Well. He did say he was only staying here temporarily.

You nodded. "For business, right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"You grew up there?" You kicked the stone that was caught at the tip of your shoe, putting your fists in the deeper part of your coat's pockets. Summer may be hot during daytime, but it sure as hell was cold on nights like these.

"Nah, I'm from Busan. Flew to California for college and have been there since. Until now, that is."

Jimin was also from Busan, you thought. Though he said they only lived there for a few years until his parents moved to Seoul, but he made sure to visit his hometown every now and then. Most of the time, he made you come with him which you never had complaints about. You lived in the city all your life so going there, especially in the more urbanized area where you and Jimin stayed. Felt like fresh air—which Busan had, quite literally.

"My best friend's from Busan too."

"Really? What about you?"

You chuckled before answering, "I, unfortunately, did not come from any interesting place. Born and raised in Seoul, through and through. Though my mom told me she lived in Daegu for many years prior to having me."

"Seoul is an interesting place, though."

"Eh. It's okay." You shrugged, and your nonchalance made you both laugh.

The walk to your apartment building from Midday Miso was not that far. Still, it was five blocks away and while you and Jungkook were currently sharing conversation together and seemingly walking the same path, you weren't sure if you were both walking together there.

As if he read your mind, he suddenly spoke after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"You mind if we walk together to the building?"

You decided to joke to get the jittery feeling out of your system.

"Scared of the dark, Jungkook?"

"Sure... my five-eleven self is."

You squinted your eyes at him. He did not just go there!

"Is that a slight against my height because I'm five-seven, mind you."

Jungkook stopped in his tracks which made you do the same, and you watched as he put his hand on his waist while the other reach up to his face to place a finger over his chin, seemingly assessing you up and down. You looked at him incredulously.

"You're bumping your height to two inches." He seriously said.

You gasped audibly.

"Oh, shut up,"

You rolled your eyes and turned your back at him, continuing your walk as you heard him behind you bursting in laughter at your reaction.

"I'm kidding!"

You first met Jimin at a college party. He was five years older than you, supposedly out of college by the time you attended, but he always had a problem with rebellion–what with his ragged relationship with his parents, he would intentionally flunk his courses as a message to them that he'd always be a black sheep and a proud one at that, hoping it would be enough to convey that they could not force him to be the heir of their company. (Obviously, it had taken him nowhere, given that he was now currently attending a training program to work at said company).

But maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he was set back to five years for graduation. Because you got to know him, and he got to know you.

On the outside, you might look like the total opposite of each other–because Jimin was the definition of extroversion who wasn't afraid to put himself out there–while you, admittedly, were more reserved and usually shied away from any public attention.

As much as you were welcoming to a lot of people, you didn't have a lot of close friends growing up–at least not the kind of friends you'd see on TV shows–but when Jimin came to your life, you clicked so instantly you could not even figure out where you two exactly began.

The instant way you two clicked, you realized, was like your relationship with Jungkook nowadays.

Ever since that night at Midday Miso, you've been seeing a lot of each other. Granted that it was only in the same place, same time. You'd usually arrive past seven and he, a few minutes later. Jungkook, cladded in his slacks and long-sleeved polo, was becoming a usual sight after a shift, and your business casual clothes was turning as one for him as well.

Your usual seating spot became his as nights passed, and ahjumma, thank God, no longer asked you if he was your boyfriend. You were glad that she was slowly getting acquainted with him though, greeting him with a friendlier smile and tone reserved only for customers like you when he entered the restaurant, and Jungkook seemed to welcome the newfound friendship wholeheartedly.

On the consecutive nights you'd spent with him, it was almost as if you lived quite the same life. Though, you didn't know when he went to work. In fact, you didn't see him during the mornings even though in theory, it could be easy, granted that you both lived across each other. But strangely enough, you'd never caught him retiring to his flat to go to the bus station. You assumed he started earlier than you or way later.

You never asked, it never came up either.

Still, there was some sort of tranquility in the thought that you could spend some time with someone after your shift and just talk about whatever–and whatever meant a lot of things. Random at best. You once told him about the first raccoon you met in your life, and he told you all about the lioness he got to watch when he went to a South Saharan trip a few years ago.

Sometimes, the conversation went around what happened in the office that day. Jungkook noticed the little blot of ink on the cuff of your baby blue long sleeves, and you told him about the jammed printer in the accounting department. He'd told you later on about how he almost fucked up a report, said he was nervous because he was taking on a new role in the office.

Those moments were shared in long walks from Midday Miso to your apartment building, because naturally, you both established a small tradition of walking home together after a night of eating your hearts out at ahjumma's restaurant.

It was a rather sweet gesture, if you were honest to yourself. But you chose not to linger too much on the romantic thoughts that floated in your head, especially when you'd notice the way he made sure to walk on the outer side of the sidewalk, and when your fingers got too close the tips almost touched.

Because Jungkook, for how objectively good looking he was, was more than just his pretty face and physique.

He was kind and funny and genuine unlike any other straight men you've met in your life. Maybe the bar was low, but for all the times you've gotten to talk to him, he never showed any signs of ego most men would by the second hour of your meeting.

In the dating scene as an adult, a lot of men would come up to a date talking about how high they were placed at their company's hierarchy and how much they made in a month, and when they hear about yours, they'd always have a backhanded comment about how "you could only go up from there, right?" and those moments were always a bummer. Yawn-inducing, to be more accurate. Men and their predictability was boring and it was the reason why you'd declare to Jimin almost every time you got home from a date that you were retired from looking for them because most men just plainly fucking sucked.

But with Jungkook... was it different.

You found he didn't talk a lot, and one time you asked him if you were doing it–the talking–way too much, but he just chuckled and told you that he didn't mind.

Later on, you learned that he was just more of a listener rather than a talker, and that was not only a pure assumption of yours because he did listen attentively, alright. As for all the random things you've told him about, you never expected him to recall a single thing, not until one time when you passed by a food truck.

"Hey, didn't you say you like sundae?" Jungkook asked, and when you followed where his eyes were, it was at the food truck parked just a few steps ahead from where you both were.

"I do... wow. It's been so long since I saw a food truck around here." You said, following his steps towards the vehicle.

They had tables to dine in, and even if you were still full from eating at Midday Miso that night, the sundae was just too gratifying to decline. Jungkook was the same with the tteokbokki on his small plate, telling you he missed eating at one of these things, as they didn't exactly have anything like this abroad.

After he paid for the food (and of course not without a long, silly, light-hearted argument about it), he came back with two sticks of Melona ice pops which you looked at with widened eyes, animated expression written all over your face especially when he thrusted the purple yam flavor to you.

"Oh my god, how do they have these?"

"I was surprised as well... this is the first time in a while I'm eating this again." Jungkook said and then gestured to the ice pop in your hand, "You like the purple yam, right?"

"Yeah!"

You were about to ask him how he knew, but then you briefly remembered that one time you had a passionate rant about people hating on purple yam ice cream and why they weren't right.

And as you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to remember it all too well.

Jungkook showed genuine interest in the things you'd tell him about. He'd visit the cafes and restaurants you recommended to him as much as he could, and because you've come to exchange numbers with him eventually after almost two weeks of casually hanging out, they sometimes came during lunch break.

1 message received from Jungkook (Unit 446)

That day, you only exchanged contacts the other night, so seeing him on your phone so quickly like that caught you by surprise. It was welcomed though.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: I went to Cafe Heaven for lunch and loved their ice americano

As soon as you read the first message, another one came.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: This is Jungkook by the way :)

You laughed at his introduction. As if he didn't see you type his name on your phone last night–like he didn't jokingly complain about you putting the (Unit 446) in there but giving in eventually and also adding (Unit 336) to yours in his own contacts.

You [12:38pm]: Hi Jungkook! You [12:38pm]: im glad u went!!! u should also try their fettuccine alfredo

Seconds later, he sent a picture of the dish you just mentioned which put a smile on your face.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:39pm]: i'll get my refund from you if this doesnt taste good

You [12:40pm]: 1 week of friendship and ur already ripping me off 🤐

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: 😁 Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: first bite Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:41pm]: second bite

What was he on, you didn't know. But you were glad that he was slowly coming around, his jokes getting more... how would you say it... less polite? He just stopped apologizing after he said them! He usually would in the first few days, but now in your newfound closeness, it was like you were out of that stage where you tiptoed around each other still, feeling the other one out, trying to figure them out, all that stuff.

Nowadays, it was just more natural. Smooth-sailing. Paradoxical, almost, because of how the relationship felt more defined as well as loose.

You found you liked it that way. 

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:42pm]: I like it 👍🏻

And to your surprise, he sent you a picture of him, indeed, holding a thumbs up.

You'd like to think you were an expert on going along with the tide because even though you would be classified as introvert by most, you did pretty well in forming relationships with people–granted, most of them were fleeting, at best, hence the lack of bigger circles in most of your life–but you were great with making friends, regardless. 

And maybe it was how you ended up with this whole thing with Jungkook. Because you were friendly and open, although you wouldn't dare to take all credits because as you mentioned before, he was a great conversationalist.

He didn't talk much as you said, but he didn't ever make you feel like you were talking way too much because he made sure that you knew he was listening, and when he talked, it was always engaging; conversations with him transitioned to different subjects in perfect seugue you would never noticed how you jumped from Melona ice pops to the existential dread you fought every morning before going to work.   

When it came to humor, Jungkook's was different from Jimin's, of course, and your dynamic with your best friend could never be replicated with somebody else but Jungkook was close to truly becoming your friend, and for that, it was getting easier to ignore his handsome face.

You may have had an embarrassing moment of panicking mentally at seeing such a man in the first meeting, but nowadays, you could hold a conversation with him without thinking how hot he was.

Dare you say, you were starting to think more platonically about him rather than romantically. As you said, you were an expert on going along with the tide.

Or maybe that was too soon a declaration, because there were moments, like now, when you were certain juvenile flirting insisted on happening between you, steering you clear from completely feeling wholly platonic about Jungkook.

"I certainly have a bigger hand than you."

As if you didn't know that, Jungkook brought his hand up to show you it. Confused but not totally minding the whole thing, you proceeded to extend your own hand towards his, pressing them both together. Predictably, his hand could have engulfed the entirety of your own.

Jungkook laughed at the sight, and you didn't know exactly who broke the physical contact first but you were glad it was over as soon as it started.

But you couldn't have forgotten the electric zap along your spine when your hand got so close like that to his. Couldn't have ignored the hot feeling in your cheeks when you were made aware of what you just did.

Wow.

Were you guys flirting? Was he flirting? It was flirting, right? Juvenile, at best, because this was what kids did in high school! And Jungkook's hand was so...

You never imagined what it felt like–never even crossed your mind until now. Expectations about how his hand felt never formed in your head because you sure as hell never thought about that kind of thing happening in the first place, but Jungkook's hand was the right balance of soft and hard. Calloused in a way most men's hands naturally were, and soft like enough comfort when held and touched.

It wasn't clammy, thank god, but you also wouldn't have thought he had clammy hands, solely because he just looked like he didn't. But god, was it big.

And my goodness, did it make you feel things.

You drank your water fast and cleared your throat, subtly, so that he didn't think too much of it.

"O-okay, but that's just genetics. Doesn't mean you could throw stronger punches."

You said in retaliation to one of your useless debates which now covered the coin-operated boxing arcade machine across the bus station nearby.

Jungkook leaned back against the monobloc chair that was definitely way too flimsy for him.

You were currently hanging out at the dining area of the food truck you came across a few days ago, forgoing Midday Miso for the night. Lately, Jungkook and you have been exploring a few more places other than there. You've tried other restaurants nearby, but ultimately, Midday Miso was still the top favorite and the food truck was becoming a staple in lieu of its convenience and just the overall vibe of eating outside and feeling the breeze of summer night air.

"You got me curious about the boxing machine." Jungkook said, crossing his arms.

"I held the highest score there for like a week, you know? Only did it though to impress the kids who liked to watch."

At that, Jungkook's face lit up in interest.

"We should do that sometime."

"Oh... I see, I see. You wanna impress the kids, too?" You playfully accused, squinting your eyes at him.

He chuckled and waved you off.

"It can be a challenge." Jungkook shrugged and looked at you with a hint of mirth in his eyes.

You let out a puff of breath, amused at his obvious antics.

"What's the catch?"

"Well... free boba delivered to your door for a week if you get the higher score. How's that sound?" He looked at you expectantly.

You chuckled before saying, "I'm gonna rip you off so bad, Jungkook."

"Only if you win, though." He said with a mischievous smirk. 

"Oh, wow. When, you mean. When I win. So what's in it for you?" You leaned your elbow on the table and studied his face.

He looked at you for a while, then, the smirk from earlier was wiped off and exchanged with a much gentler smile.

"Home-cooked dinner at my place next week Friday."

Your eyebrows met.

"You want me to cook you something? Jungkook, do you have a death wish? I may either give you unintentional food poisoning or burn your house down, there's no in between."

"No," Jungkook laughed at your insane conclusion. "Sorry, I should've specified. I mean if you lose, I'll be cooking us a meal at my place."

"Oh."

You were left staring at him, a bit dumbfounded.

He just said he wanted to cook you guys a meal. At his place.

He was inviting you to his place. His personal space.

"It won't be better than Midday Miso but I think I can keep up." Jungkook added with a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head in that seemingly boyish manner.

"Sure..." you responded, a bit delayed, much to your effort of not showing your big surprise at his offer. Before he noticed the way you were not believing what you heard, you chose to quip in a (hopefully) cheeky, "That is if you win, though."

Jungkook only hummed and then nodded.

"If I win."

He said, smiling at you.

This was dangerous.

The whole thing was teetering to something that was not very platonic, and just as you were starting to think this whole thing was!

Jimin always told you that you were bad at flirting, but in your defense, how were you supposed to know, exactly, if someone was flirting with you? A lot of people were friendly like that! Jungkook was maybe like that? Had you shown interest and he noticed so now he was playing into it? But that would be uncharacteristic of him. You didn't think he'd be the type to do something cruel like that...

But the tide was always rising and falling, they said, and the good thing was; you knew how to go along with the current.

So you did what you do best.

"Would you like to donate to the poor?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's a chance this card's gonna decline because I am the poor."

The cashier looked you in the eye with an even more impassive look than the one she had before you got your turn on the counter.

"Could've just said no." She said, punching your order away and you had to shamefully swipe your card and leave to go over where Jimin was.

"The cashier just snubbed me for being poor." You complained to Jimin, moving your coat to the next seat and settling in in yours.

Jimin took a sip from his latte and looked at you dead in the eye and said, "I'll call the manager if you want."

"Fuck off." You retaliated immediately. Jimin snorted at your way too predictable response.

See, this has happened way too many times more than what your fingers could count. You could not even pinpoint the exact time when Jimin started to joke about going full-on Karen-mode when you complained about a single little thing at the places you went to.

Anyway, you were currently on a lunch break when Jimin texted to see if you were free. What better way to spend your lunch than with your best friend? The company's canteen food was getting tired and they hiked up their prices. Your office's kitchen also ran out of Solhee's – your coworker – biscuits and so you thought you had to make do of Jimin's money for that day. You told him your motives yourself and as a petty retort, he told you to pay for your own pasta — at a café that was way too expensive for its own good.

You stole a bite off his churros, and predictably, he rolled his eyes at you.

"Why'd you want to see me, by the way? What's up? You don't have training?" you glanced at your wristwatch, reading 12:40pm.

Soon, you were casually taking over his plate of churros. For how ridiculously priced it was, it sure tasted good as hell.

"I got the day off." Jimin shrugged.

You eyed him suspiciously almost immediately.

"Did you really...?"

It was a few seconds before Jimin gave in and took back his plate.

"Okay, no, I ditched the training today but for the record it's for a very important reason."

You put your hand over your chest and contorted your face in an awed, touched expression.

"The important reason being... meeting me?"

"Ew, no," Was Jimin's quick, disgusted, response – which earned a laugh from you as usual.

From your peripheral vision, you saw the waiter heading towards your direction and so you waited for him to come over and serve you your pasta and frappe. After thanking him, you huddled closer to your best friend and asked, "Okay, what is it then?"

Jimi pursed his lips, making your eyebrows meet.

"It's kinda... bummer news."

"You're pregnant?"

"No, you'd be way too happy and I can't be a single dad," He shook his head as if not even wanting to imagine that.

"Namjoon looks like he's gonna take care of it with you." You sing-sang, sipping on your coffee and winking at him indiscreetly – emphasis on indiscreetly because you never knew how to wink properly.

What you did not expect, was the look on Jimin's face when you mentioned Namjoon.

"Well..." He trailed off, and you waited for it curiously; anticipating his impending answer in return because your conversation was always quick-witted like that. But right now, Jimin's expression was devoid of any jokes. 

Not something you expected when you just mentioned his boyfriend.

"I— did something happen?" You quickly dropped the teasing tone and exchanged it with a concerned one, eyes looking at him with worry.

Jimin closed his eyes for a while and let out a deep breath. "See, that's the bummer news."

"Do you want to tell me? Or we can just—"

He cut you off before you could even finish your sentence. But he did it with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes – and this was Jimin. His eyes did not not reach his eyes when he smiled!

"He's going to Italy."

"Oh."

When the pause prolonged for over a minute, with you looking at him mouth agape, Jimin let out a heavy sigh once again and shook his head.

"I know. It's work... and I always understood that. He travels a lot and we're both okay with it. But it was usually just around the country, not another continent. I mean, what did he mean Italy? And that's not even the worst part. He knew a month ago he was going but he only told me two days ago and he's leaving Thursday," Jimin looked at you to take a pause, seemingly trying to look for a reaction.

You thought, that's tomorrow.

As if he read your mind, he nodded, sounding almost defeated.

"I know."

"Oh, Jimin..." You said, not exactly knowing what to say.

Jimin and Namjoon had been together for over a year. At least, officially, because they spent the last three years just casually hooking up on and off. You liked them together and had been more than glad when they finally put a label to it – exactly why you knew Namjoon enough to not badmouth him when you usually would men Jimin usually dated. You knew perfectly well that Namjoon genuinely cared about your best friend and he loved him. So if Jimin was at a loss for this obvious mistake on his boyfriend's part, even more so you were.

"He's been blowing up my phone ever since." Jimin added, glancing at his phone on the table. "Intentionally didn't charge my phone today so I don't receive his calls and texts."

That prompted you to remember the message you received from Namjoon last night.

"Oh, that's why he texted me yesterday. He asked about you, and I told you through text but you didn't answer." Things were starting to make sense now, and as you observed Jimin's face, they were getting clearer. "You never talked since?"

Jimin pursed his lips. He took his coffee back to his mouth and sipped while looking away. "Nope."

"Jimin." You tilted your head.

He looked at you again, and you knew exactly that he was thinking the same thing as you: It was within his right to feel off about what Namjoon did, but regardless; Jimin was being a little petty, and he needed to communicate with his boyfriend instead of giving him the cold shoulder.

There was a pout that formed on Jimin's lips right after.

"I know. I just..."

"He could've told you sooner?" He nodded at your words. You mirrored that. "He should have. Italy is not Busan – it's not just a train ride away."

Jimin sighed, looking exasperated now. "I told him that exactly. I'm not even mad he's going to Italy, I just think I deserve to know right after he was told about it."

You nodded. "You should really talk. It sounds like he wants to apologize, anyway, given that he's now trying to talk to me to get through you."

"Sorry you got caught up in this. I'm gonna talk to him about it."

"Eh, it's fine. Joon and I are also friends, you know?" You shrugged, genuinely not minding Namjoon coming to you. 

You liked Namjoon and thought that he was the perfect match for Jimin. They were cute together and just seemed to... take the best out of each other. You'd go to any lengths to keep them together, as long as Jimin wanted Namjoon and as his boyfriend. You've seen Jimin go from relationships to relationships, some just fleeting and simple dalliances, and most destructive and were just... not good for him. You've never seen your best friend truly happy and committed in a romantic relationship other than with Namjoon, and as someone who cared about him, you'd do a lot of things to make him happy.

"Here's another thing, his flight is tomorrow at 11:30pm in the evening. Mom's birthday dinner is at 10." Jimin usually had his composure everytime, and it was very rarely you'd see him show any worry because he liked everybody to think he was in control of every situation. You smiled. Classic Jimin. He'd only ever show his true nature to you though, and that was exactly why he looked at you with worried eyes and continued to say, "I really wanna be there to send him off."

The call time for his mother's party was at 10 and naturally people would start swarming in way past that time. If Jimin were to sneak out way too early, you knew his mother was not going to be happy about it and his father would give him an even bigger shit for it. Sure, he could cancel, but what would he say? That their supposed cishet son is sending off his boyfriend at the airport for the night? He couldn't reason work either because he didn't exactly have one.

After having his wrongful DUI accusation last spring– which was actually already settled, on the grounds that it was definitely not DUI and the owner of the other car just overreacted to a fender bender, the media was adamant on tactically using that to taint his family's image and it unfortunately succeeded – hence, why Jimin had been laying low these past few months; going to training programs, obeying his parents more than usual, doing what they wanted...

You sighed. Your best friend deserved so much better.

"Don't worry, I'll find a way to get us to leave early." You told him after awhile.

Jimin arched his brow, intrigued.

Waving him off, you said, "I can fake something."

As if hearing some magic words, Jimin suddenly perked up.

"No way you're using the diarrhea card?"

Giving him a dirty look, you shook your head. "Nah, not during a dinner party. It's gotta be something new and less... gross."

"Oh, oh!" Jimin put a finger over his lip. "What about a sprained ankle? Can you pull that off?"

You deadpanned. "Okay, you ought to pay me more if you want me to do that."

"I can, but I won't. Stop ripping me off, I'm your best friend."

"Jimin, I'll save you from your family. I'm great at this." You said jokingly, but you hoped that he knew you weren't just jesting and were serious about it.

With the appreciation masking your best friend's face, though, you knew he got the message right away, but as you looked at him longer, you realize that he was about to say something and you quickly pulled back, shaking your head.

Jimin quickly reacted. "No! You know what, I'm gonna say it—"

"Don't say it." You quickly cut him off, giggling while you shake your cup of coffee.

"You can't keep me from saying I lo—"

"Jimin, I will tell everybody in this place you watch dubbed anime, I'm serious."

He gasped, quite dramatically.

"You did not just go there!" Then, he lowered his voice a bit, arching his brow at you, vindicative when he said, "You wore skinny jeans a month ago."

"How dare you, you wore a fuckass poncho last week. I saw on your IG story."

"That was from Namjoon and he also gave you one, FYI."

You grimaced. "Tell him I love him but I'm not wearing a poncho, Jimin."

"I was gonna tell you I love you and that you're the best person ever but now I have to rethink all of that." He rolled his eyes, and when the banter ended with you having the last words, you laughed at his face.

"God, you're just never beating me at this."

"Please, we both know you write your mediocre insults on your diary every night trying to one-up me, __. But let's talk about something else."

"I'm not even gonna acknowledge the diary thing but, sure, shoot." You said, starting to eat your pasta.

Jimin looked at your food full of judgement and grimaced. "Is that shrimp? Your doctor is growing grey pubes as we speak," He commented, and you knew he was referring to your shrimp allergy so you shushed him.

"This is vegan shrimp. It's tofu."

He just shook his head, disagreement written on his face. But he let it pass, anyway.

"Anyway, how's Mr. 446?"

The pasta suddenly entered the wrong track.

"Girl," Jimin was quick to offer you the glass of water on his side and you were just as fast to drink it. "You okay?"

"I'm sure there are existing cases of people dying because food got on the wrong track while they're eating, but yeah, sure, I'm okay." When you finished the water, you looked at Jimin who was just doing the same thing.

Crossing his arms, he eyed you expectantly. "Well?"

"I mean... what do you want me to say?" you told him, and you could've sworn you did not want to show anything on your face but you were certain there was a huge smile on it and for some reason, you couldn't help it.

Jimin's jaw dropped, expressions of disbelief and amusement when he asked you curiously, "What do you mean by that?"

"Okay, look, Jimin—" You scratched the back of your head, feeling a little sheepish to tell him all about Jungkook. "He told me we'd get dinner at his place this Friday if he wins this... thing."

His mouth was agape by then and you couldn't help but laugh.

"You... slut."

You would absolutely be rolling off the floor if you weren't at a public place the moment he mouthed the word, but still, you couldn't help but retort back.

"Shut up, you can't be the only one whoring around in this friendship." Jimin snorted at that and you both had to stifle your laughter when you noticed a woman from across the room eyeing you both.

This was one of the reasons why Jimin and you didn't belong in public places other than bars or clubs – because you were way too rowdy together for civilization.

"So you're saying you're whoring around?" He eyed you suspiciously.

"Wrong information. It's actually kind of platonic."

Jimin quickly waved you off. "Babe, if a guy invites you to his place, nothing is ever platonic about it. What do you think you'll do together there? Stare at each other for two hours straight?"

God, you hated and loved that he enables your delusions.

"Okay, you're being insane about this. It's just dinner," Trying to fight off the not-so-very-platonic things that suddenly played in your head after hearing his previous remark. To show that you didn't care, you added for good measure, "—And anyway, we had some sort of deal about it so it's not definite."

Your best friend just shrugged. "I'm all for it. But you're sure he isn't a serial killer, right?"

"Jimin, god, no," you chuckled at that. "I mean, I don't really know for sure, but we're friends now and as far as I know, he's never shown signs of psychopathy."

Jimin and you hadn't hung out in a while, so you haven't really told him all about Jungkook yet and the things you got to know about him. He didn't even know his name. As far as he was concerned, Jungkook was still Mr. 446, and you were fine keeping it that way. He had a lot on his plate right now, anyway.

"Just being cautious." He sing-sang, putting both his hands in the air.

You shook your head.

"Anyway, we also need to talk about what we're gonna wear tomorrow," Jimin suddenly said. "You got the Pinterest board I sent you, right? For the inspo."

Grinning, you grabbed your iPad from your bag and got to the link immediately. Your phone died on the way to the café. Good thing you had another device and brought it with you.

"I also added a few things in here. Gold and black's the theme, right?" You clarified, scrolling through the board you and Jimin both contributed to. Your best friend took it upon himself to transfer seats so he could be beside you and look at your screen at the same time.

"You're gonna look so good in Schiaparelli, babe," Jimin said while checking out the pictures you added.

"It's just an inspo, I don't actually need to wear a Schiaparelli." You chuckled.

"Who do you think your best friend is?"

You both laughed at that but it stopped when a notification popped up on your computer. Recognizing the address as your work email, you were quick to hover over it. When you were about to open it to see the full message, your iPad suddenly died.

"Shoot." You looked at Jimin with a straight face. "I forgot to plug it in. Didn't notice the battery."

Jimin grimaced. "Didn't bring any power cable."

"We'll have to do with a phone. Mine died."

You were just about to ask him for his but then you remembered what he said about avoiding Namjoon, hence, his phone was of no use either. 

"We're gonna have to freestyle."

Last year, Mrs. Park's party was held at a theater hall – your first time at one, by the way.

Tonight, it was at their mansion.

You've only ever been to the Park's a total of one time, which was now. Stepping a foot inside here for the first time in your life, the house felt unreal. It was the epitome of money and wealth and everything regal in the world – like a palace of some sort. They had butlers and guards at the gates so maybe that wasn't an exaggeration, but damn, Jimin truly came from money.

Regardless of how shiny the whole building was in both literal and figurative senses though, there was an emptiness to it. It didn't look lived in – which was a fair assumption for a house this big. It definitely did not look like people liked staying here, and maybe that was not a stretch, because as soon as he turned 18, Jimin moved away and lived in his own place ever since. You asked him on your way here and he told you it was his first time this year to visit his own house.

The decoration was sick, though. Granted, they must have surely hired people to do it but at least they'd hired excellent ones. You wouldn't have expected anything less from Jimin's mom.

Jimin and you arrived at 10pm sharp, and thankfully, people were already starting to fill the place up. It was now past 15 minutes to 10pm since you arrived and there really was nothing different that went on from last year; you saw some familiar faces, politicians, and celebrities. Jimin introduced you to some people as his girlfriend, and you got to have quick chats with his model friends.

You knew it didn't actually matter if you thought about it carefully, but there was truly nothing compared to the feeling you get when you see someone in the flesh that you only see on TV all your life. You didn't feel lucky to see them in person, per se, you were just poured over the realization that these people were actually real and they weren't just some sort of simulation to keep the entertainment industry of your country afloat.

Although, you did meet Han Sol – an actress whose works you genuinely admired. Jimin just told you her husband was his second cousin.

It wasn't later that Jimin and you were invited to his family's table, where some of his cousins and immediate family were.

The greetings went pretty normal. Normal as in: Jimin's mom didn't say anything about your weight first thing first. Granted, she didn't try to hide the look of disappointment on her face when she saw you with his son. Probably reeling at the fact that you were still "dating" each other even after a year — she was probably under the impression that it wasn't serious between you two last year. His father, meanwhile, was... quiet. As usual. A man who obviously didn't really say much except ask Jimin about the training program and his siblings' jobs.

Mr. Park didn't really talk to you, just like last year. Like you were almost invisible to him – and you were glad that was the case. He probably didn't like to acknowledge your supposed relationship in the first place. Probably knew that you were working a middle-class job and didn't want to know any further. But at least, he wasn't saying anything. That was nice.

"Where's your cousin?" Asked Jimin's mom suddenly, looking at his son.

"He said he got caught up in traffic. Sent 20 minutes ago." Jimin shrugged. You would ask him about which cousin they were referring to but they had like millions of it at these events so you didn't bother.

Mrs. Park shook her head disapprovingly. "That kid. Always late to the family dinners. Did Junghyun ever teach—"

"Hey,"

Your attention was then focused to the man who just arrived. Black tie, tall... dashing. Jimin was a good-looking individual and his family, as evil as they may be as per his words, were blessed with good genes. If you were to look at the new man that arrived to the table very carefully, you'd say he almost looked familiar.

"Oh, Junghyun!"

Jimin glanced at you and discreetly mouthed, "Cousin."

"Aunt, happy birthday." He said after laughing at Jimin's mother coos. He looked across the table and continued, "Hi, uncle. Jaeyul, Sunghoon, Jimin." They all greeted him back and you could feel the hairs on your nape starting to stand up when his eyes landed on you once again. "And this is...?"

"Oh, that's Jimin's girlfriend, __." Jaeyul, Jimin's brother said.

"Hi." you greeted him, waving a bit.

"Oh?" Junghyun immediately looked at Jimin, eyes not hiding his shock. When you trained your eyes on Jimin, you felt his fake smile. "That's great, man. I didn't know you had a girlfriend. Hi, miss...?"

"It's __." you filled in.

"Nice to meet you, __." He said with a smile. The more you looked at him, the more you could almost pinpoint who he looked like – but that shouldn't really matter.

Junghyun looked over Jimin's parents once again, "Anyway, sorry I'm a bit late, got caught up in traffic."

Jimin cleared his throat.

"How about you, Junghyun? Got a girlfriend yet?" He asked as soon as Junghyun sat on the opposite side of the long table.

You could see Jimin's mother's curiosity peaking at that.

"Tell us, dear. Last time you were dating Kang Iseul, right? The actress. You're still with her?"

Everybody at the table nodded while you almost choked on the smoked quail you were eating. He was dating Kang Iseul? She was a popular actress who announced a hiatus three years ago. That actress Kang Iseul?

Junghyun chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, aunt, that was my brother, and uh, no, I'm not dating anybody currently."

"Oh well. I just wish your brother stops dating that woman. I never really liked that girl. She acts way too self-righteous! I mean, who cut ties with their billionaire father and live independently just so they can say they're self-made? It's ridiculous." Jimin's mother said in that usual snotty tone of hers, and you could not possibly process all of what was going on.

If it wasn't clear to you a moment ago, it was crystal now. Unfortunately, you were a bit chronically online and were there in real time when one random tweet blew up about Kang Iseul being a nepotism baby. But was this guy's brother really dating her? The most important and concerning thing, though, was that: why was Jimin's mom always so annoying about who her family members date? And this was not even her immediate family, mind you.

"Jina," Jimin's father had a warning tone when he called her but Jimin's mom just shrugged him off with a "tsk!"

"Kids are so ungrateful nowadays, don't you think? Anyway, Junghyun dear, you remember the Kang gala I told you about two months ago?" Jimin's mom looked pointedly at Jimin and you bit your lip.

Of course, here comes her passive aggressive disapproval of you. 

"Kang Heesu and her sister Kang Hani will be there. Heesu is a wonderful woman," she chuckled, looking over at Jimin's direction subtly. You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. Couldn't she be more obvious about acting as a wingman for Jimin and Heesu? But she continued, just like she always did. "I also heard Kang Hani is going for senior partner at Yoon and Yang, you may be interested. Pretty lady."

Junghyun just awkwardly laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jimiin's father suddenly spoke, making everyone look at him.

"Where is that kid?" He said, authority dripping through his voice. Jimin was obviously not close to his father, and who would be? Mr. Park was way too intimidating. You found it funny to think if he ever did anything remotely paternal towards his children.

"We were supposed to go together but he said he had something to finish. He'll be arriving later." Junghyun said, obviously not oblivious to the "kid" Mr. Park was referring to. You were way too uncaring to actually try to figure that out.

"I see." Jimin's father nodded. "How's Jeon and Min, Junghyun? I heard you were just appointed managing partner last week."

Junghyun responded with a "yes" and they started to talk about the law firm – you assumed – and other people they mutually knew related to the business.

You knew Jimin's complicated family tree was composed of all sorts of professionals, but damn, they had lawyers in here too. It was like out of a career day event at grade schools.

"Is it true Gukka's going to be CEO?" Jimin's mother said, joining the conversation.

You were glad they were doing all the talking. Last year, they talked to you like they were interrogating you and that was not nice.

"Well, dad's not giving up the company so soon. Gukka's going for interim CTO first." Junghyun said with a polite smile.

Gukka. That must be the brother of Junghyun, although it sounded more like a nickname than a real name.

"Your brother's a hard worker. He's looking at a CEO position, some are still at training programs." Jimin's father remarked with a pointed tone.

Oh, fuck me, you thought to yourself. You thought it was gonna take awhile for the comparison to start, but it seemed they were determined to beat their record of one hour from last year.

You tried subtly looking at Jimin to see if he was okay or anything, but you felt him squeezing your wrist under the table. His face was devoid of any emotion as he continued with his own food.

Junghyun, meanwhile, was obviously taken aback by the response and also looked over at Jimin. He was quick to recover, though – probably knew that was a jab at his cousin just like every other person in the room. Atmosphere grew tense, and you had to squirm in your seat a little bit.

"Training programs help a lot, though." Junghyun awkwardly laughed. You were starting to feel bad for him as well.

"Well, you're lawyering. Trainings are important. Mine's kinda stupid." Jimin said which made everybody look at him, including you.

"You're learning anything yet, son?" His father pointedly looked at him.

"We'll see."

Jimin's dismissive tone made you feel the eye roll he would've done after saying that.

Look, he rebelled for the most part of his life so him being passive-aggressive towards his family was not a new thing, but to witness it was both nerve-wracking and honestly... funny. His parents were such assholes so they probably deserved his attitude.

Mrs. Park smiled a fake one before looking at you.

"Well, what about you __ dear? You're a... what was that again? How is that going for you?"

Because you wanted to piss them off, you mirrored her fake smile and said, "I got fired six months ago at my accounting job."

"Pft—" you pinched Jimin's arm at his reaction.

Of course he'd laugh at that. You asked him how you could piss his parents off tonight just to get back at them from last year and he told you to pretend to be unemployed or you work a minimum wage job because that was their biggest ick. Jimin didn't know you were going to come through.

"Oh."

The look on Jimin's mom's face looked as if she heard the most scandalous thing ever, and if his father's frown was deep even before the dinner started, his face was now below the ground. It felt satisfying to get those looks on their faces. Good! They were such assholes. Imagine getting devastated at someone being unemployed? Okay – for the record, being unemployed was devastating but these people weren't sympathizing with that, they found it humiliating in an elitist way– criminal almost. 

You nodded, your lips almost getting tired from stretching them too far.

"Yeah. Anyway, I started working at a local burger joint. You should visit us sometime."

"I'm vegan." Jimin's mom said, her face now drained with the fake joy she's worn all night.

"We have vegan options." you quipped. Jimin once again made a sound beside you, hiding his laughter.

"Wait, really? They offer vegan options at a street burger joint?" Sunghoon, the youngest of the Park brothers, asked.

You almost laughed at the genuine curiosity in his voice. He was still in high school and from what Jimin told you, he was a nice kid. He wasn't very close to any of his brothers, though.

"Nah, it's the only one in town." You bullshit one more time, drinking the wine beside you. "Sorry, can I excuse myself for a minute?"

They nodded and you stood up, heading to the bathroom, brisking once you got out of their sight to get there more quickly.

It was now 10:30 pm – meaning, you had to do something to get Jimin out of here now if he wanted to be on time at the airport to send off Namjoon.

Once you got inside, you looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed. 

This whole thing was sucking the shit out of your soul, but you needed to get through it.

It took you awhile to finish your pep talk in the bathroom.

If only you could've have locked yourself in there to avoid socializing with anybody, you willingly would. But you were running out of time and unfortunately, you had something to do and that was to fake some illness to get both Jimin and you out of here.

When you got out to approach the family's table one more time, you suddenly stopped in your tracks.

The table was at least fifteen meters away from where you stood, but you could clearly see the side in which Jimin's cousin, Junghyun, sat, facing your direction. He wasn't the issue – no, far from it. It was the guy beside him who wore the same set of black tie as him; the face attached to the body who wore it though, was someone you did not expect to see.

Why the fuck was Jungkook, Unit 446, here?!

From where you were, you could see him engaging with Junghyun and Jimin's parents. You couldn't hear them, of course, but it was clear that they were acquainted – close – even from afar.

Why did he look so comfortable with the Parks? Why was he at the family table laughing and conversing with everybody, including Jimin? Why did he seem like he went to many of these, like this was just another Thursday for him?

There was a waiter who walked past you and you were grateful for it because had it not been the case, people would start to get weirded out about you standing on the same place longer than necessary, looking stoned. That was also an opportunity to run away from the situation without Jungkook possibly seeing and recognizing you.

"I'll take this," You told the waiter and grabbed the glass of champagne and quickly turned on your heels, heading to the opposite side of the family table where the Parks, and apparently, Jungkook were.

You found yourself heading to the bathroom again, your feet seemingly developing a mind of its own as it led you there unconsciously. You knew you'd be in trouble if they found out about you putting the champagne glass in the sink, but you needed to get inside the toilet and think over everything that was happening tonight.

What the fuck. What the fuck!  Again, why the hell was Jungkook here?

As far as you knew, he was just a regular man that happened to be living across from you. He was just supposed to be some guy you were regularly hanging out with nowadays. Your friend. Your crush – whatever! What he wasn't supposed to be is be here at your best friend's mother's birthday party and hanging out with his family!

Your phone dinged, a message notification from Jimin welcoming you.

cuntress #1 [10:32pm]: girl what happened I saw u going back to the bathroom?

You didn't know why it was suddenly too hot, but you felt the balls of sweat starting to form on the side of your forehead.

You [10:33pm]: im going with the diarrhea excuse

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: tbh idc atp I just wanna go to joon 😔

"Shit!"

Right! Joon. Namjoon. Jimin needed to go to Nmajoon as soon as possible.

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: also another cousin has arrived u rmr jeon jungkook he's junghyun's brother cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: love this guy but moms starting to compare me to him and I need out right NEOW im justt aking hits after hits jesusssssss

You could just feel the blood draining from your face as soon as you read Jungkook's name in the text.

Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook. Gukka. Kook-a.

That was why the Junghyun guy looked familiar. Because he had the same coloring of Jeon Jungkook. Because they were goddamn siblings.

You started to replay some memories in your head, trying to figure out if you've ever heard Jungkook talk about his family in one of your conversations. But as far as you remembered, he never did. All you knew about him was that he was from the States, and he only got here because of work and he had a dog and as far as you were concerned, his cousin was definitely not Park fucking Jimin, your best friend.

Pacing around the confined space of the toilet, you tried to wrack your brain if you've ever mentioned Jimin to him and in the event that you did, why he never told you that he was his cousin – but you came up blank. Blank because you never told him about your best friend's name... and in turn, Jimin didn't know what Mr. 446's name was, either. They were both genuinely oblivious about the whole thing and couldn't have made you a fool in the situation.

In short, you were the one who was stupid as hell for not connecting the dots sooner.

"Hey, you just landed?"

If it was a private conversation Jimin would've left the room but since he didn't, you decided to stay in bed, kind of listening in to the conversation, but also not, as you turned the volume down of the show you were watching earlier on your laptop.

"Nah, you want me to pick you up?" Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. "Sure, I'm free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?" He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. "Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?"

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, "Well, my cousin's apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on."

"Fuck me." You hissed, remembering that time when Jimin told you about his cousin staying here for three months because of work.

cuntress #1 [10:35pm]: its either ur taking a guinness world record breaker piss there or u really do have diarrhea now and ur shitting cuntress #1 [10:36pm]: anyway get this, jungkook's gonna be interim cto at your company did u know that??????????????????

You almost dropped your phone upon reading the last message.

What the hell did he mean by that?

Heart beating fast as if it wanted to break out of your own ribcage, you closed your eyes and read Jimin's message once again. There was no way he would be shitting you about any of this. He knew where you worked at and you knew your current company was his uncle's, and now that you knew Jungkook was his cousin...

Shit. Was this what they were talking about at the table earlier? About Junghyun saying his brother was gonna be interim CTO? Did he mean Jeon Jungkook all along? Your freaking neighbor?

Suddenly, you remembered the email you received that afternoon that you never bothered to check again because you simply forgot about it. Who even actually checks their work email? Literally no one. You spend your weeks facing your computer while email flew in like porn ads on a shady website, you weren't about to willingly go to the app and check it on your leisure time.

But maybe you should have.

Fingers involuntarily shaking in their wake as you switched to your work email on your phone, you clicked on the recent unread message that was on top from the HR department.

Subject: Invitation to Ceremony: Announcement of Interim CTO Dear Blue Nexus Inc. employee, We hope this email finds you well. We would like to inform you that a ceremony has been scheduled on July 29, 2028, 10:00 am at the AVR Hall 5, 12th floor. The purpose of this meeting is to announce the appointment of our interim Chief Technology Officer (CTO), Mr. Jeon Jungkook. As you may be aware, our previous CTO, Mr. Shin Juman, is currently on medical leave recovering from a stroke. While he is recuperating and undergoing treatment, it has become necessary for us to appoint an interim CTO  for an indefinite period of time to ensure the continuity and effectiveness of our operations. Your presence at this ceremony is highly valued as we introduce the new leadership to the team and outline our strategic direction moving forward. Light refreshments will be served. Thank you for your attention to this matter. We look forward to seeing you at the ceremony. Best regards, HR Department

You knew that feeling when you were just taking hits and hits? This was it.

So not only was Jeon Jungkook Jimin's cousin, he was also gonna be the interim CTO of the company you were currently working at. He was technically going to be your boss, and you would be both working in the same place all the while living across each other where he would see you taking out your trash every Sunday morning in your worn-out highschool PE shirt and pants. He was going to be your boss working at the company you complained to him about on the nights you walked together to your shared apartment complex.

You flirted with Jungkook. You flirted with the guy who was the son of the owner of your whole company building – and not only that, he was your best friend's cousin, to add salt to injury.

You [10:38pm]: jimin we need to get out of here

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ive been saying

You [10:38pm]: but i cant go out there again. Just tell them i had a problem in the bathroom??

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ok on it  cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: im kind of convinced u shitted in there tho????????

You rolled your eyes, but at the same time found an opportunity in that. Jimin can't know the truth.

You [10:39pm]: u cant judge me for having a very human experience fuck u the cake i ate earlier was giving cake boss

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: KJAHFKGSIDFHDSHASFHSKJBF

You [10:39pm]: im literally doing this for u and joon

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: IKNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!thanks to ur stomach problems cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: im going there

You [10:40pm]: make sure they don't see us again to really sell the whole im-embarassed-thing

cuntress #1 [10:40pm]: ON IT! Were going out the back door I don't think they'll notice

You couldn't even find it in you to laugh a little bit at your silly exchange and scheme, because you were way too stressed about what you just found out.

You let out a controlled, heavy breath, leaning your back on the door and shut your eyes aggressively.

"What the hell am I gonna do after this?"

PART TWO | ....

all right reserved © awrkive, 2024. no reposts, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work/s and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3

[gyuswhore]

Statistically Speaking...

part of the svt TA collab

kim mingyu x reader

word count: 21k

contains: TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [minors DNI], angst, statistics, ur honour they're stupid for one another, descriptions of stress exhaustion and burnout, academic burden, disagreements, mingyu is smart as hell, shitting on bad professors, smut but its a surprise [gyu gets his soul sucked while he's reciting statistical models I mean what]

words of conviction from @highvern: Kim Mingyu, total asshole , 1-800-HOT N DUMB , THEYRE IN LOVE MINGYU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LOSER , sick fucking freak , i know when you wrote this you put your head in your hands , OHHHM YW GOD

synopsis: In all your years of academic endurance, you’ve never failed. A 100% success rate, despite you cutting it close at times. However, the line graph that is your life starts tanking somewhere around the time you began taking this hellsent Statistics in Psychological Research class. With a professor that wouldn’t know his ass from his head, and an overworked, overenthusiastic, and overcaptivating TA, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. However, statistically speaking,…it could.

[a/n]: this fic is set in the same universe as @highvern's wonu fic endpoint [read here!!!], some insight for wonu's pov is included here as is some of Mingyu's pov in cam's fic if you'd like to see more about what happens in the gaps!!

I want to start by thanking everyone who chose to be part of this collab fic and for being the reason cam and I were able to open up @camandemstudios in the first place. everyone's been so kind and cooperative and I still cant believe we managed to convince such amazing writers to join us on this collab journey 🥹 I love u guys

Thanking my wife camothy @highvern for brainstorming with me since day one and for betaing for me. @seokgyuu and @miabebe for also looking over the doc and reassuring me. I'm for sure forgetting someone and I'm really sorry about that, know that I appreciate you just as much 🤍

on that note, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, im HELLA nervous for some reason so plsplspls remember to reblog and send me feedback on how you liked it, I will love you forever <333

masterlist

Monday

A normal person would’ve cried. Perhaps even sued the entire institution for all it was worth. Burn down the world, if it came to it. 

But as you stare at the tiny 37/100 on your screen, you feel…nothing. 

You could’ve said you saw it coming, which you did, but something about blaming someone else for an exam you took was beginning to feel a little manipulative. 

Clicking off the student portal, you huff loudly, five in the morning too early for you to begin breaking down over a grade that was completely unreflective of what you were taught. 

Or maybe it was, because as you count one, two, three hours till your dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, you can only hope you’ll hold back from spitting in your professor’s coffee. But alas, you can only shut your laptop harder than necessary for what it costs and push the grade out of your mind.

You were tired enough to sleep for a couple more hours, and you take it as an opportunity to spite the entire course by giving just as many fucks as your professor did.  

Which was little to none. 

That was a lie—on your part anyway. Because you continue to show up, and probably will until you can put this course and all of its trauma behind you. Even now as you feel the inclining beat of your pulse sitting in the white lecture hall, you know this is all but you versus the universe. 

Dr. Cho might as well have wheeled himself into the room on a skateboard with the way he struts into the room. 

He’s wearing a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and jeans of a matching finish that do not fit him properly. There’s pins in every last colour on this earth, littering the front of his jacket with sayings that toe the silver controversial lining. There was one that said Vote for John F. Kennedy, another plain black one with I Eat Kids, and of course, the blaring Cunt written in cursive, pink sparkly letters. 

This man that’s pushing into his 60s stands before his slightly wilted class in his crocs, hands on his hips as he heaves a long breath. 

“I have to say, not the turn out I was expecting on that last report.”

He’s talking about the report you coincidentally failed, the same one you were pushed into with little to no direction and a deadline tighter than any you’ve had to bully yourself through. 

“All I can say is to read through the feedback I’ve given and try a little harder next time.” His voice is somewhere bordering comical exasperation. Feedback that consisted of sparing ‘?’’s and ‘no’’s with zero further explanation. He could say more, but you’ve learned that he simply chooses to not. 

Besides the man that drones in the front of the room, there’s another person in the other corner of the lecture hall. He’s hunched over a giant pile of papers, sifting through each and every one with a pen in his other hand. 

The TA doing a mundane task is somehow more interesting than whatever seminars of disappointment your professor was giving. He’s crossing something out on every single leaf of paper that he flicks through, and you vaguely wonder if those were today’s worksheets. 

“...and post hoc tests last week, we can start on Bayesian today. Mingyu will be handing out the tutorial papers.”

The poor TA looks like he thought he’d have more time, snapping his head up to look at the professor with an expression of pure incredulousness. He staggers for a moment before he’s flicking past the pages even faster somehow, striking out what seems like the same instruction in the giant pile of papers meant for an entire lecture hall. There’s a rustle as about a hundred laptops are being pulled out and booted up, waiting for the worksheets to land on the desks. 

You hear the familiar warble of papers being passed out and you watch as the TA pulls chunks of sheets out of the giant stack in his arms to slam down onto the front tables. 

“Pass it down, please… pass it down, please…”

There’s a voice that calls from one of the front seats, “What formula is the sheet talking about?”

Mingyu looks startled as he snaps back to look at the blaring empty whiteboard. In the midst of passing papers, you watch him sprint to the rolling whiteboards, pulling one of the giant flats of white over to the other side, the mechanism slamming into place with a louder than comfortable slam. It reveals another whiteboard underneath with the detestably long formula already written (and the one you’d have to figure out yourself).

 The professor remains with his chin in his hands behind his laptop, unphased. 

By the time you’ve registered the foreign symbols on the board, one of the tutorial papers has made it into your hands.

Sure enough, there’s a quick line across one of the steps with a thick black marker. 

Blinking hard, you attempt to pull yourself into the zone, staring at the white sheet with words that are barely stringing themselves together. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially as you lift your head to find hunched shoulders and furrowed brows all around. 

There’s one person that’s zipping back and forth, just like there always is. 

You watch as Mingyu hunches over certain laptops and whispers in rapid explanation before moving on to the next, a looming sense of dizziness that trails behind him as he shoots up the stairs to the back rows to help someone else. 

There’s a brief consideration to raise your own hand to ask for help, but one look at his disoriented gaze and the amount of hands that shoot up by the second, you guess it wasn’t going to help.

Back you go, hunched over the same wretched paper as everyone else, and praying for some divine revelation. 

Tuesday

Divine revelation did not come to you, but the good sense to make use of office hours did. 

So here you are, a printed copy of your supposedly horrid assignment and a pack of multicolour pens in your tote, and determination in your stride, you make your way to the department building. 

You’ve double, triple, quadruple checked the times to ensure you don’t dip in at the wrong moment, swiping open your phone to re-check the room number yet again. 

Standing outside the door, you knock with mustered confidence, waiting for something akin to an affirmative from the other side of the door. 

Nothing. 

You knock again.

Silence. 

You glance around the empty hall before grasping onto the cool brass handle of the door, wrenching it open just a peep. Poking your head in, you find the room…empty.

The chairs and tables that usually buzz with discussing students lay barren as you step into the room. Moving to look at the front of the room, you inhale sharply as you realise the professor’s desk has been occupied this entire time. 

Except he’s asleep.

No, that’s not the professor. 

Moving closer, you watch the way his back rises and falls ever so slowly, head resting on his arm as his hand hangs limp off the table. Whipping your head around with more attention this time, you attempt to find an explanation written on the walls. But there’s none, even in the papers that litter the table he rests his head on.

You don’t need to see his face to know it’s the TA. But as you stand in the empty room, clutching the straps of your tote, you aren’t quite sure what to do. 

Another glance around the table and you realise his laptop remains on, the screen yet to sleep. Before the obvious issue of a blatant invasion of privacy can befall you, you take a step forward to take a peek. 

It’s his schedule, a million colours blaring on the screen in a colour coded regard with barely any white spaces. It doesn’t take long to find his time slot for right now, red with importance. 

Glancing down, the man remains fast asleep, pen still in hand as it inks a faint line on the page. You look around the room for the nth time, taking constant glances back at his laptop that tells you he’s actively missing something right now. Clearing your throat, you hunch over a tad bit. 

“Um, excuse me.” He hardly moves. So you try a little louder, hunching over his sleeping form even further. “Excuse me.”

You could’ve sworn you heard a snore. 

Out of instinct, you bring a hand forward to his shoulder, shaking ever so slightly as you call for him again. “Excuse me!”

There’s a sharp inhale and he shoots up quicker than you can back away, ensuring you get an entire back’s worth of force as he bumps into you, hard.

“Wh–ow!” The noise is collective, yelps and thuds as you both back away from each other. 

“W–what’re you doing here?” he asks, hair still ruffled and eyes barely open as he stands at the table. There’s a bright yellow sticky note on his right cheek, ink scribbled on in something you can’t decipher.

“Um, it’s office—”

His eyes land on the same screen you were peering into just before and it looks like his life flashes before his eyes, widening at the sight as he slams around the table looking for something. 

“I have to go,” he announces, gripping onto an unstrapped watch as he registers the time, his other hand shoving his laptop and a few papers into a dark messenger bag. 

“Wait, isn’t it still office hours?” you call out as he whizzes past you. 

He’s swinging his bag over his shoulder and half tripping to the door as he calls out, “Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

“But—”

“It’s on the portal.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it—” he pauses as he exhales loudly, closing his eyes and bringing a hand to rub across his tired face. “I’ll double check. But it’s Wednesdays and Thursdays from now on. You can wait till I get back if you really want help.”

“How—”

A loud slam! of the door. 

“—long…” 

You’re left draped in silence yet again, the echoes of the slammed door ringing in your startled ears. It all happened too fast for you to process, blinking rapidly as you registered that you were now alone in the room. 

He said he’d be back, but left you with no indication as to when. By the looks of his god awful schedule, it looked like he had something else to attend to right after whatever it was he buggered off to right now. 

Fingers clenched into a fist, you consider your options. You could wait, sit on one of the desks and try to get some work done until he gets back. 

The universe gives you your answer as the door opens with a loud creak in the empty lecture hall. It’s another professor who looks quite startled to find an overenthusiastic student already present for class. 

She stares before craning to look at the room number outside the door, “Am I in the right room?”

“Uh, yes! I was just leaving,” you buffer out, moving to shuffle out immediately. 

You’re halfway out the door when you hear another call of an “Excuse me!”

“Are these your papers?” The professor’s full arms are up as she gestures to the still littered table. 

The No is ready on your lips. Until it isn’t. 

Later on, you’d consider how you left that room with an armful of papers that did not belong to you. How you’d ducked under the table to ensure you’d gotten everything, down to the leather strap watch with the cracked clock face. 

But as you stare at the stack of files and sheets that lay on your desk at home, you only know of the decent act that you’d committed.

And nothing of the hourglass you’d just turned over. 

Wednesday

In your Sent box are three emails sent on three separate days, all asking the same recurring question, all responding with the same recurring reply.

I wanted to confirm the days and times for office hours. I’m aware it’s on the portal but I’d like to reconfirm. 

Regards, YN

Dear YN,

Wednesdays and Thursdays. 4 to 6 PM.

Kim Mingyu, T.A. 

So there you were on a Wednesday afternoon, 3:59 PM sharp, outside the lecture hall where office hours have always been. With the same tote hung on your shoulders, with the same printed assignment and pack of multicolour pens, and a separated stack of files and folders, you wrench the door open with bated breath. 

The blended murmur of the usual hustle and bustle of the appointment reassures you first, the sight of scattered students of familiar faces reassures you second. And most of all, a conscious TA that sits at the professor’s desk, speaking to another student over a laptop screen. 

The man does nothing to acknowledge your arrival, continuing above the babble of students that occupy the chairs and the discussion. It isn’t too full, but considerably busy nonetheless despite how early you’ve swooped in. 

There’s a brief consideration whether this was in the TA’s job description at all, craning your neck to take a full sweep of the room to find a sparing glimpse of the man who should be here. The professor and his loud fashion choices are nowhere to be found. 

The sigh you let out is heavy and full of an emotion you cannot possibly begin to unpack, taking a seat on one of the unoccupied chairs to slump against. Shoulders sagging, you feel every fibre of your being screaming against your better judgement to pull out some work and to be productive while you wait. Reading over your failed assignment for the nth time, the same one that seemed to be some sick form of rage bait. 

You pull a couple things out so as to not look awkward sitting and staring into nothing on an empty desk, uncapping your pen and pulling up your sleeves like there was business to be done. Which there was, but none of which you wished to entertain. 

People watching, you realise, is a lot easier when most of the room is preoccupied with whatever it is they’re doing, too busy to notice your blank stares. 

The faces are familiar, none of which are people you’ve interacted with before but classmates nonetheless. The room is full of shaking legs, spinning pens and hunched backs, not an un-scrunched brow in sight. There’s a particular gaggle of girls somewhere around the front, their tables suggesting a work environment but between the whispers, giggles and glances to the front of the room, you assume there’s one thing in common the both of you weren’t doing. 

Speaking of the front of the room, your matched glance finds you face to face with the student at the main table in the middle of pushing himself off his seat. Your reaction is immediate, hand coming over to slam against the flat of your bag to find the lost straps, moving out of your seat as you keep your eyes on the front of the room. 

Bad luck must be a lover, because you realise quickly that somebody’s already beat you to it. Before you even noticed the first’s intentions to. The student stands beside the chair ready to keep it warm as the previous occupant leaves. 

Slamming back down on your own seat, you realise very quickly that trying to get an audience with this TA was going to be harder than you anticipated. There’s multiple other sounds of frustration around the room, and you doubt the slowly increasing pool of students was going to help anyone’s time management. 

Realising you needed to be a little more tactical if you didn’t want to sit here for the next month and half, you find an empty spot near the gaggle of girls you’d noticed before. It was right up front, just enough for you to hear when the conversation would begin to conclude at the main table. 

Once again, the TA doesn’t seem to notice any of the hustle and bustle of the room as his mouth continues to move rapidly, eyes on the question as he invests himself in his explanation. 

It was unfortunate that the only remaining seat was right next to the louder than necessary group, but you take it as a blessing anyway. It’s then that the one right next to you turns to stage-whisper to you. 

“Are you here to see him?”

You don’t expect a conversation, ears straining to eavesdrop on the other conversation in front of you to find your cue. You snap to look at her in surprise. “Pardon?” 

“Are you here to see him? Mingyu?”

“Uh—” Wasn’t everybody? “Yeah, I had a couple things I wanted to clear out.”

The revelation makes her shoulders drop as she lets out a loud sigh, “God, I can never get anything this professor says. I've been here nearly every week trying to figure it all out.”

“Yeah he’s a bit…unorthodox.”

“He’s unorthodox too.” She looks over to the main table towards the TA, chin in her hands as she gazes. “A face like that is rare.”

It wasn’t that she was wrong, it didn’t take more than a glance to convince yourself that Mingyu was possibly one of the more attractive people you’d meet in your lifetime. But the appeal lasted for all of five minutes for you, flitting away when you noticed that he dragged along a very…overwrought… suggestion wherever he went. 

It was clear he was stressed seemingly all year round, nearly just as relaxed as your professor seemed to be. 

But Mingyu was attractive. And you realise how much of a fool you’d sound if you admitted to anything other than such. 

“It is. His willpower’s somehow even rarer,” you add. “Don’t know how he does it.”

“God, tell me about it. Forget getting his number, trying to have more than a three sentence exchange with him without some statistical nonsense involved is near impossible.” Her face has fallen, a tight little frown on her face as she irritates herself with some other memory. 

Taking a glance down at her notes, you find the printed sheet littered with glitter gel pen ink lining the edges, doodles of stars and hearts and small anime characters next to p values and z scores. 

There’s a distinct sound of a chair screeching, and it’s like a large GAME OVER sign is hanging above your head. 

You jerk in your seat, like you could jump over the table and land in the emptying seat with some god-given stroke of luck, like the person already standing next to the chair wouldn’t hold a lifelong grudge against the insane girl with an unnatural acclimation to statistics. 

Although, nothing was more unnatural than the way this TA seemed to know more than the professor. Or you were just really behind. 

Alas, you don’t tumble over the table or kick back your chair, merely making a forceful motion in your seat, palms itching terribly as you watch the girl with her open laptop balanced in her arms move to take a seat. 

You were preoccupied, hence you do not notice that the TA has also noticed you. 

Suddenly, the girl looks startled as she’s told to wait. 

“She’s been waiting nearly a week, I really hope you don’t mind,” you hear him say, voice strained as you turn to look at him. His hands are outstretched to motion towards you a few feet across from him. 

For whatever reason, you had no thought that he might’ve remembered you. Something about his half asleep state when he’d spoken to you, perhaps he might’ve thought he dreamt it. Or he’d just forgotten it altogether. 

The girl glances at you, and her shoulders sag a little as she nods in formality. 

“Thank you.”

It comes out of both of you, snapping to look at each other hardly a moment as you go back to smiling at the retreating student. 

“You can come right after her,” he reassures, his own upturned mouth tired and fading. 

Never have you felt more awkward trying to come around the elongated student tables. 

You pause at first, staring at the table in front of you like it was worth trying to climb over or even crawl under it to get to the desk. Another moment of eye contact as he stares at your unmoving form with a blank look, and the heat pools your skin. 

Staggering for a moment, you end up moving past your chair and walking the way round anyway, the screeching of the chairs only nurturing the existing budding humiliation for no apparent reason. 

It only gets worse when you sit across from him finally, backside barely touching the plastic before realising you’d forgotten your bag in your seat. 

Mid smile in a timid greeting when you make a sound resembling something of an “Oh!” as you spring back up immediately. It’s easier to reach for your bag over the table you were sitting on, reaching across to grab it off your vacated seat. 

The girl you were sitting next to just before makes a motion like she’s trying to help and you have to remind yourself to smile at her as you retreat. 

Mingyu has the very beginnings of an amused expression on his face once you’ve finally made yourself comfortable across from him, clearing your throat just for something to do. 

“Right. How can I help you?”

Pulling out your printed assignment, you bring out the sheets of stapled paper to the centre of the table, writing facing him. 

One look at the sparse format of the cover page, he blows a full mouth of air at the sight of recognition. Without you having to say a thing, he flicks to the very last page, finding the rubric printed on a separate page. 

“It’s a 37,” you inform him like he couldn’t see the bold 37/100 in the bottom Total cell. 

“Do you think you deserved a better grade?” he asks. It would have sounded direct, an accusation even. But he asks with an intonation of genuinity, like he actually wanted to know. 

It stumps you regardless.

“Well…I know I can do better, at least,” you decide to answer. 

“You’re here, which means you’re at least willing to try. That’s a start,” he murmurs. His eyes are laser focused on the sheet beneath him, holding it open as his eyes move faster across the page than you can keep up with. Somehow talking to you while taking in the words on the paper.

“I remember marking this,” he says, looking up to address you. “Your concepts are nearly there, but your structure and presentation was off.”

“You marked them?”

He raises his brow, “I hope that wasn’t an accusation. I need to stick to the rubric.”

“I thought the professor marked the lab reports.”

“He’s…supposed to.” There’s a forced reservedness in his voice. “I mark them and he puts in his comments if he has any. But I’m not sure you’d fare any better than this if it was him behind that pen either.”

Every question that floated in memorisation, from the form and structure, to the nitty gritties of the data presentation, all evaporate as you realise you’re at a loss for words. 

Even more embarrassingly, you feel tears prick the back of your eyes. You don’t have an explanation, but it’s somehow easier to feel helpless in front of the man that’s meant to help you. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“That’s alright,” he says as reassurance, though it sounds awfully rehearsed. Like he has to say it everyday. “We’ll work through it.”

He lets out a big sigh, adjusting in his chair and running a hand through his hair. The motion has you noticing the dishevelled nature of the mop on his head, un-uniformed and sticking out at certain places, yet still somehow cohesive with his look. His shoulders are straight and taut, fingers working as they fiddle and flick the pen in his hand. 

Despite it all, his shirt is ruffled and creased, unbuttoned at the first couple steps. The buttons are misaligned, one side of his collar higher on his neck than the other. It takes an effort to not reach over and fix it for him.

“Lab reports can be quite tricky if you aren’t sure what you’re doing. Did you refer to the tutorial?”

You mean the one that did nothing to help? “Yes.”

“You got those bits right, format and whatnot. But—”

“It was a lump of writing about subheadings and word counts,” you say plainly.

Mingyu lips are in a tight line. “Well, yes, but it helps—”

“I know the results are supposed to go in the results section. I don’t need a PDF to tell me that,” you cut him off. Your voice is reserved, and you hope it comes off as a point across and not a complaint. Although it was a complaint. “I want to know why the entire section was ruled off as incorrect when we were never properly taught how to write it in the first place.”

“Dr. Cho—”

“Is no help.”

“I understand—”

“He can’t even mark his own papers. I’m quite sure that’s not in your job description. It’s supposed to be him here. Not you.”

It’s silent. There was nothing in your voice that suggested you wished to pick a fight, on the contrary, quite calm and matter of fact. Mingyu’s fingernails are going white as his grip on his pen and paper grow stronger. 

“And yet, we continue to show up. Because we do what we must.” He raises his head in control, a small smile on his face, eyebrows unnaturally raised. “And, better that I’m here rather than no one at all. I can help you too.”

Help, he did. 

Mingyu had made it quite clear his time with you was limited, but by the end of the near 25 minute session, nearly every inch of your printed assignment was covered in a rainbow of notes and corrections, additional papers and post-it notes pasted on the back as you remain careful to not lose them as you slip the stack in your bag. 

You only remember when you spot the segregated file of papers in your bag.

“I almost forgot,” you say, slipping the files and tidbits out and in front of him. 

“Where did you find this?” he asks sharply, eyes widening as sees the familiar blue. 

“You left them at the desk of the lecture hall last week,” you say, before quickly adding, “There was a class right after you left. I took them off the professor’s hands before they got lost. Thought it might be important.”

“I’ve been looking all over for these,” he says as he goes through the pages and files. Random sticky tabs and highlighted regions across the pages. The leather strap watch with the broken clock face remains on top, and he picks it up. He looks up to you with wide, sparkling eyes and a smile that feels genuine. “Thank you.”

You flush for some reason, “O–of course, couldn’t just leave them there.”

Pausing, you wonder if you should make the next comment, the words tumbling out before you can make a decision. “Maybe don’t run out of rooms still half asleep.”

By the grace of God, he laughs, “No, you’re right. I should be careful.”

It isn’t till you’re pushing yourself out of your chair that he continues. “You can come in at 3:30 tomorrow.”

“Pardon?”

He’s stood up as well. “I have a free thirty minutes before office hours formally start. I can help you out a little more without the crowd.” 

Feet planted on the ground, there’s not much you can do but stare. “Um, sure. I can come in a little early.”

He nods casually, “Thanks again for the papers. And the watch.”

You smile, “No problem.”

Thursday

True to your punctual nature, you make yourself known at exactly 3:29 PM.

Mingyu is at the desk, conscious and on the phone, eyes closed as he rests his face on his fist.

“I don’t know if I can make time for that—no, I understand, sir,”

Another pause as the noise from his speakers fill his ears, his rubbing over his face a little harsher than you doubt he’s entirely comfortable with. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

His phone hits the table with a heartbreaking thud, both hands covering his face as he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. 

“Light on your feet or something? I can never tell when you come in,” he startles when he notices you. 

Sheepish smile on your face, you move to sit down. “Sorry.”

You know it’s invasive, and you also know you might be asking him to break some unknown university code of conduct, but curiosity takes charge as you ask a casual question. “Important call?”

“Uh, yeah, um, just work stuff,” he states, shaking his head swiftly like he’s trying to shake the thought out of his mind. 

There’s a pause while you're slipping your papers and laptop out of your bag, during which he seems to have decided to divulge a little more. 

“It was Dr. Cho. More stuff for me to do,” he says. “As always.” 

“Does he do anything other than show up to class?” you ask through a snort. 

“Of course he does. He cusses out every article he doesn’t agree with, is anything but objective and…the occasional relay of blatant misinformation.” 

For the record, you’d never really heard Mingyu speak at all for the months he’d been TA-ing for the semester. It was small whispers of choice words in a vague voice, the distant murmur as he exchanged with the professor too far for you to hear. 

The voice of the seemingly quiet and diligent TA was never known to you, not until yesterday as he explained statistical models and the flaws of your data presentation. 

Passionately too. Incredulous for a discipline so dry and unapproachable. 

That being said, something about the grit in his voice as he positively sneered through his teeth, badmouthing his professor—it was something you couldn’t quite believe he was capable of. 

“I’m sorry you have to put up with him.”

Once again, by whatever stone of tolerance the universe bestowed in his heart, you watch him sigh and smile, “Anything for that recommendation. And the pay too, I suppose. Besides, he’s done a lot for the area, can’t discredit him entirely.”

With your eyebrows raised, he seems to catch your expression. He pants out a laugh, and your stomach lurches as you watch it reach his eyes, teeth on display, a lurch in his chest; a true laugh. 

Raising his hands in surrender, he responds, “I’m stuck.”

There’s nothing you can do to stop the smile that reaches your own face, turning your laptop screen towards him with the JASP software display. “I am too. Help.”

Help, he does.

Monday

Mingyu ended up giving you an entire hour on that Thursday. 

The thirty minutes before office hours began soared by like they were nothing, and you were ready to take your leave the minute students began to scatter in as the clock hit a swift four. Except he kept going, another 30 minutes in deep concentration as he retaught you nearly everything from scratch. 

Perhaps his proven determination to ensure you don’t tragically fail is what prompted you to do this, standing at the till of your regular coffee shop as you ask, “Make that two, please.”

It might also be important to mention the 7:30 AM on the dial on a bright Monday morning as you walked into your slightly less dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, knowing there would only be one other person insane enough to get to the lecture hall this early. 

Something isn’t right. 

Mingyu is in a position all too familiar to you and everyone else who shares this class, hunched over something or the other in deep focus. The sun pours in through the lifted blinds, the lights of the class turned off as natural light does more than enough of the job. 

It also shows you a blaring hot pink post-it note on his face, all too familiar to a previous interaction you’ve had with him. 

He notices you before you need to announce yourself, brows separating as he recognises you in the doorway. “‘Morning!” 

“...Morning.”

“You’re early,” he comments, straightening his back with a hand behind him for support as you approach. 

“Figured we both needed this,” you hand him a tray with his cup of coffee, eyes still trained on his lower cheek with the paper stuck to it. “It’s a latte with no sugar, but I added a couple packets on the side anyway. Just in case.”

“O–oh, thank you. And you’re right I did need this.”

Now that you’re closer, the scrawled writing on the post-it note is clearer. 

To Do:

Call mom

Shoot myself

“You, um—” It’s alarmingly difficult for you to say it, despite the words being so simple. Hey! You got a lil’ something on your face.

But all you do is dumbly point to your own cheek, eyes trained on the loud piece of paper that tells more than he might like the world to know. 

There’s a loud slap of his hand on his own cheek as he crumples the paper in his hands, bringing it forward to see. “For fuck’s sake.”

“It’s okay! I wanna…shoot myself too sometimes.” 

What the fuck?

“I mean!” you correct louder than you anticipated, before covering with a laugh. “It’s okay, it happens. Good thing I caught it before someone else did.”

It’s all the more petrifying when your voice echoes across the blatantly empty lecture hall, reverberating like it was a punishment for you and your horrid lack of volume control. Meeting his eyes feels like a sin right now, so you keep them downcast and pray he doesn’t try to sabotage your education. 

“Good thing it was just you. Yeah.”

Just you.

“Anyways, I think I’m done with prepping for class. Do you wanna squeeze in twenty minutes of ANOVA?” 

“Have you seen the time?” 

“Not a morning person?”

“Nope!”

“And yet it’s 7:40 on a Monday morning and you’re absurdly early.” His brows are raised as he pulls around the professor's chair to bring it to you. 

“Do you want the coffee or not?” you ask, watching as he drags another chair for himself. 

The both of you sit away from the professors table, coffees in hand as you watch Mingyu run a hand through his hair. 

He gives you a crooked grin,“I apologise.”

“To be fair,” he continues. “I’m not much of a morning person either.”

You narrow your eyes the slightest bit as Mingyu takes a sip of his unsweetened coffee, “I’m starting to think no money’s worth this job.”

Mingyu snorts, coffee suspended in his full cheeks. He swallows with much difficulty before answering, “You’re right. Not sure why I’m still here either. I could get an offer from another professor.”

“And that isn’t happening because…?”

Elbows on his knees, Mingyu swirls his capless coffee cup, the beige liquid moving in a growing tornado. “I like Dr. Cho.”

“You—”

“I know,” he laughs loud, a deep, echoing sound that shakes in your ears. “I know. I sound like a lunatic.”

“I don’t know about lunacy, but insanity can have its reasons.”

“Another would argue that insanity was the very absence of reason.” 

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Excuse me for doing my job.”

He takes another sip of his coffee, and you ask again, “No, but really. I can’t imagine this man having too many redeeming qualities as an educator.”

Mingyu lifts his chin as he presses his lips together. “When I was in my first year, there was this other class I had where we had to write a lab report for the first time.”

“PSYCH101?”

“That’s the one. I’d never written one before, but I liked statistics enough to do a little more digging than what the assignment called for. I ended up finding one of Dr. Cho’s studies, read the entire thing, word for word. I was up all night reading nearly everything he’d published, some of ‘em before any of us were even born.” 

“Oh. So you’re a fan.”

“Everyone tells you to never meet your idols,” he snickers. “He’s done amazing things, but I guess he pays for it with his flawed personality.”

“I’m sorry it had to be you,” you half joke. 

Mingyu looks at you sheepishly, “That might also be my own fault.” 

“Don’t tell me you offered.”

“I might as well have. All my assignments referenced his work the most. I was always talking to him about upcoming research after class, and it was like he was a different person. Forget differing opinions, some of what he was saying was just…plain incorrect. He welcomed the argument though, and I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true. He was always emailing me extra resources which…I’m pretty sure he isn’t supposed to do. Only reason I did so well in his class was because I taught myself.” 

He sighs a loud sigh, straightening his back, “I guess he liked me more than I thought, because next thing I know I’m getting a call over the summer telling me I have a job.”

“Did he…have a TA when you were in his class?” 

“Four.”

“Four?!”

“Two at a time. All of ‘em quit at some point. Said they didn’t want the recommendation or the pay.”

“Would he…not give you a recommendation anyway? You said he liked you.”

Mingyu shakes his head solemnly, “He’s a tough cookie, everyone in the field knows that. If you’ve impressed him, you’ve impressed everyone.”

You take a moment to really absorb everything you’ve just learned. “That’s a sucky position you’re in.”

“Tell me about it. But it’s okay. Three—three and a half more months to go? This isn’t even the worst of it, I’m just dreading study week when I’m gonna have to handle all the crying.”

You wince as he mentions something even remotely close to exam season, still barely at a stage where you can accept you’d be alright with this class. 

“I know you’re not nearly as qualified or experienced as him, but I think you could take over his class.”

“Ever heard of barriers to entry? I’d be ruined if I wanted a career in this.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “All I’m saying is I’ve learned more from you in barely a couple hours combined than the last two months I’ve spent cursing this very lecture hall.”

If you weren’t lying to yourself, you could’ve sworn you saw a blush creep up his face, and paired with his shy laugh and hand at the back of his neck, you can’t help but bite back your own smile. 

“If I can help you then it’s worth losing myself.”

Your heart is in your fucking throat.

“I’m glad when students tell me that,” he continues, utterly oblivious to the landslide happening in your digestive tract. “Makes me feel like I’m doing something right.”

“You’re—” you swallow thickly because you sound like a toad. “You’re doing more than just something right. You’re saving us therapy and an extra semester.”

He laughs at that, and you wish he’d let you breathe. 

“Feels like I’m doing something wrong sometimes,” he huffs. “My friend’s a TA too and he’s got himself a girlfriend on top of everything else he’s got going on.” 

He goes on, “Do you know how many times I need to ask people to quit twirling their hair? To look at the page and not my face? Asking for my number, I have an email for a reason, for fuck’s sake—”

Mingyu is cut off because you’re laughing, hand to mouth as your shoulders shake through your sniggering. “W–what?”

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup. “It’s just…It sounds like you don’t know what you look like.”

“What’s wrong with how I look?” he frowns.

“Nothing!” you exclaim. “But that’s the problem isn’t it.”

Mingyu doesn’t seem to buy it, even through your coaxing as you attempt to explain to him that he is, in fact, desirable.

“Can’t possibly be enough to distract people,” he huffs in earnest, still hung up on the students he can’t get through to. 

“Majority of the class would beg to differ.”

There’s a pause as he registers what you imply. 

After a few moments, he drops his head, opening his mouth, “Would… you also—”

There’s a loud creak of the door as you hear the immediate noises of shuffling feet and chattering mouths, as low and tired as they sounded. Turning back to look at Mingyu, he’s already jumped out of his seat, wrist to face as he checks the time on the same leather strap watch you returned. 

“That’s our cue,” you breathe, pushing your chair back behind the professor’s desk as you manoeuvre around Mingyu who’s suddenly frantic. 

Of course you realise there’s people other than just the two of you in the room, heightened in seats that are designed to ensure they can absorb every detail that goes on right where you stand in the front of the room.

But you feel the soft of Mingyu’s shirt over his wrist as you give him a gentle squeeze despite it all, barely enough pressure. Half your index finger brushes the skin of his hand, just enough to register how cold your fingertips are and how warm his body is. 

“Relax,” you whisper. “You’ll be better off without all the panic.”

You don’t see his face as you brush past him and up to your seat, looking up to see him disappear somewhere in the corner hunched over another stack of papers. The next time you see Mingyu’s face is when the professor arrives and has begun his regularly scheduled tomfoolery, and realise all the age that can accumulate in the span of five minutes. 

Thursday

Midterm season is nothing you’ve ever really had to worry about. 

Something about the halfway point did make it obvious that the clock was ticking, but danger was far enough away to prevent the ultimate breakdowns reserved for the peak seasons. 

Except this class isn’t ordinary, and it’s all you’re able to worry about all semester. And as Dr. Cho in his Thrasher vest announces the date for the in class midterm, the glass once half empty, suddenly looks very half full. 

“I’m not ready.”

“You’re more ready than anyone else in class.”

“How do you know that?”

Mingyu stares at you blankly, “If I don’t know that, then who else does?”

You have tears in your eyes, which is embarrassing enough since this is the second time you’ve teared up in front of him, but also because you’re in a library following Mingyu around like a lost duck because he insists on putting the books he borrowed back onto the shelves himself after registering the return. 

“But I don’t feel like I’m ready,” you whine, turning the corner as he searches for the last spot to place his final book. 

“You’ll realise just how ready you are when all those hieroglyphs on the page start to make sense to you,” he grunts the last bit out as he reaches on his tippy toes to shove the book back up. 

Dusting his hands off, he adjusts his shirt before turning to you, “You only feel that way because I’ve been giving you harder problems to work on. You’re past the level you need to be at right now. Trust me, you’re more than prepared.”

“But—”

“Listen,” he waves to the librarian as you both leave the library, your eyes still glistening as you fiddle with your sleeves. “It’s only the midterm—”

“Only the—”

“If this goes wrong, I’m just gonna have to work you harder for the real thing. Even though I know it won’t go wrong because I said so.”

You fall into silence as he walks you towards the coffee shop across the courtyard. 

“I’m assuming…” you start. 

“Hm?” he looks over to you.

“I’m assuming you can’t hint at what’s on the paper.”

Mingyu barks out a laugh of disbelief, “You assume correct. I’m not going through hell with this job just to lose it because of a paper leak.”

“But it’s just the midterm,” you mumble, not even close to remotely audible. 

“What did you say?” Mingyu smirks. 

“Nothing,” you huff.

“You know, I’m a little offended you don’t trust me.”

“Who said I didn’t.”

“Well then, stop being such a worrywart.”

There must be something written on your face, because as you pass Mingyu standing at the door he keeps open for you, entering into the coffee shop with fallen shoulders, he seems to change his mind. 

He brings you a coffee, sits you down, and gives you something else you need. “I made the paper. Every question. And I taught you. Every concept. So I definitely know you’re gonna be fine.”

In that moment, with the large glass walls of the warm coffee shop, the afternoon sun comfortably resting on every last object of the room, you don’t see it illuminate anything other than the man before you. 

Perhaps you're being dramatic at the revelation, but you don’t take anything into account as you note Mingyu’s eyes and how they sparkle like they were gifted from the centre of a flaming volcano, brown and polished more than any jewel or stone you’d ever seen. Reaching out to touch him, you know you’d feel nothing but smooth stone, the indentations only possible by a being beyond what you could comprehend.��

He’d given you more than just reassurance, and at times, his timing makes it feel like he was sent from the heavens itself, just for you. 

You sniffle. 

His hands brush over yours as he hands you a napkin, and even more so, cover your own as he takes your freezing fingertips into his own palm, the contact burning you like hot coal. 

You know he’s real. And you don’t know why quite just yet, but that reassurance is enough to give you calm.

Monday

You were alright, but it seems that Mingyu seemed to disintegrate right after he was done reassuring you to the moon and Saturn and Jupiter and back.

It’s midterm day, and as always on every Monday morning, you enter the empty lecture hall with two warm coffees in your hand, ready for whatever shitshow you’d have to perform for today.

It seems Mingyu must defect from at least one regular string of behaviour to remain as Mingyu, who on this occasion, stands before you in a baby blue polo sweater. 

Except you only know that because you can see the unique collar, but it might also be important that his back is turned towards you. 

“Morning, champ,” he gruffs, nothing encouraging about his voice in the slightest. 

Your breath hitches when you finally see his face, eyes sunken in and face pale. His lips are chapped and peeling, eyes half closed. 

“Why’re you looking at me like that, why has everyone been looking at me like that?” he huffs in one long, rapid question. 

“Um, I mean,” you stare at his shirt that’s backwards. And inside out. “I can’t tell if that’s a choice or a mistake.”

Looking down at his front, he looks back up, “What?”

“Your collar is…not at your collar, Mingyu. And your shirt’s inside out.”

Hand at his nape, he reaches his fingers down and finds the unmistakable starched planes of his collar, eyes closing at the realisation. He’s immediately pulling his arms out of the shirt with his eyes still closed like it’d all disappear if he keeps them like that. 

“Wait!” you exclaim before he strips entirely, scrambling to put your coffees down to push him out of the room towards the restrooms. “Do you wanna strip for the CCTVs?”

You only hear him sigh as he moves out and into the hall, doors closed behind him. 

You’ve nearly forgotten about the midterm at this point, your concern now growing in a completely different direction. By the time Mingyu returns, he’s blabbing about wondering why everyone he ran into since he left home was giving him the strangest looks, and then something about you always swooping in to save him before the real bout of disaster strikes. 

It’s hard for you to listen to him when you’re more worried about him passing out, his face doing him no favours to reassure you that he wasn’t a breathing corpse. 

“Mingyu…did you sleep at all?”

“Hm?” His eyes are glazed over and unfocused. 

“Sleep? Rest?”

“Oh,” he frowns. “Not really. I had emails coming in all night.”

“And you were replying?”

“It's the midterm today,” he responds flatly, like it should’ve been enough explanation. 

You almost don’t believe him. “Doesn’t mean you stay up to answer something that should’ve been cleared out beforehand!”

“Couldn’t just leave them to fend for themselves,” he dramatises. 

“Yes, you could!” Your voice comes out louder than you expected, eyes wide as you realise what he’s doing to himself. “You barely look human and it’s only the midterm.”

“What’re you trying to say?”

“I don’t know if this job is really worth as much as you think it is.”

Mingyu’s jaw is clenched, fists tight as he releases them to grip paper weight on the desk, knuckles white. “I can’t get anywhere if I don’t—”

“Mingyu, please. This isn’t good for you.”

He says your name. Declarative, almost like a warning. “If you think this job isn’t worth it then you just don’t know.”

“Mingyu—”

“No, you don’t, because I’ve seen how good of a job I’ve been doing.”

“You have, you’ve been amazing but—”

Mingyu’s own voice is raised, a hard impenetrable floor to the words he spills. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You look like a corpse!”

And then he’s getting out of his chair with so much force it almost knocks it backwards, “Why on earth do you care so much? So what if I look like a corpse, if I‘m doing my job?” 

It might’ve been better if he knocked the chair right into you, your breath dissipating in your chest like it never existed. His face is morphed in an expression of exasperation your anxieties fear the most, every line on his face committed to irritation and anger. 

Why on earth do you care so much?

Right. Why do you? 

“Are you asking me that?”

“What?”

“Are you asking me why I care?” 

Mingyu only sighs, shoulders dropping and eyes closed. Like so many times before, you watch run a hand through his hair, except this time he yanks on the strands harder than ever before. 

His eyes are bloodshot. 

“I have to get the exam pack.”

Marching out the door in front of your own eyes, you’re left with a feeling that’s right in the back of your throat, curling and whirling into something you wish you could hack and gag out. Gripping the corner of the professor’s desk, you feel the peeling wood cut into your skin. 

There’s a draft, the delayed slam of the door has only hit its wind now, a delayed reaction. It’s like it registers in your mind as you feel strands of your hair shift, the clarity that comes with it.

Delusive. Chimeric. Cruel.

Everything you’d subjected upon yourself. A whimsical fantasy between pages of logic and numbers, a story that simply didn’t fit where the laws wouldn’t allow it. 

The null hypothesis of your most elaborate nightmares.

Monday

Your favourite commonplace box, where your mother once placed all her most prized jewels, had a finicky latch. 

It wasn’t broken, simply worn in from years of opening and closing. It took a few tries to get it shut. Simply pressing down with pressure didn’t work; you had to open it again, press down on the individual elements of the latch and then try again. 

You were never satisfied until you heard the distinct click of the latch fixing itself, the box closed and ready for you to hook your lock through.

Earlier on in your undergraduate career, you remember a professor talking about the effects of external factors on the mind, how they can sometimes cause it to ‘shut down’ when overwhelmed or stressed. 

It’s happened to you on many a occasion; like when you stayed up too late on a school night to watch a documentary about the Stanford prison experiment, or when you’d neglect food or water on busier days, or when you’d stop paying attention in class because you were too preoccupied thinking about Taco Tuesday. 

Regardless, you’d found a way to recognise when your brain would fall into some strange kahoots with daydreams, or whatever was bothering you, and learned ways to give yourself a reset. 

Pressuring and forcing the attention wouldn’t work, just like how the latch wouldn’t fit when you’d do the same with your beloved old box. So you’d take a walk, drink something cold, spray yourself with a garden hose, or even take a nap altogether. Opening yourself up, so the latch can finally click. 

On the morning of your midterm, when you’d ensured your brain was in optimal condition for the exam you knew would be one of the worse ones you’ll have to take, you were sure the only external force that could ruin your vibe was from God himself. 

Having been so preoccupied with your mind and its functions, you’d seemed to have forgotten where your heart had wandered off to. 

Somebody else might consider it a minor disagreement; an anxious squabble if you will. But your breakfast in your throat was enough reason to deem what happened that morning much more than that. At least for you. 

“Pass it on, please…pass it on, please.”

The sound of his voice is tectonic. Rattling in your head like a superior force had slammed into your skull like a padded hammer to a gong. 

You hated it. You hated everything. You hated yourself. And as the midterm paper reaches you with your pen in your clawed fingers, the first three questions already making perfect sense, you realise you hated Kim Mingyu the most. 

That was a lie. You were lying to yourself, yet again. 

Because it was quite the opposite. You couldn’t hate him. 

As you drift past every question of conditional experiments and screenshots of data and tables on a software, you hardly remember what you circle and what you don’t. Hardly remember what words you picked for the short answers and labels. You hardly remember taking the steps down from your seat to the front of the room, where the professor sat scrolling through his Skateboarders [!MEN ONLY!] facebook group, placing your paper down and leaving the classroom. 

Throughout your years of living, you’d learned what you needed to get your brain out of its clouded muffle, to refocus when you needed it. 

Everything. You tried everything. 

But on that day, when it mattered most, your latch never clicked.

It’s Wednesday. 

You order lunch from the Italian place a few streets down. Ravioli; it’s safe and you know you’ll like it. 

Savouring it is easy in front of another true crime show. You pull a lone soft drink from your fridge, one that your friend left weeks ago. It tastes just as bad as the last time you tasted it from someone else’s cup, but you drink it anyway, the empty can now in your trash. 

It’s 3:30 PM, and you sit at your desk. It’s strange. It feels like you’re missing something, which in ways, you are. But as you pull your laptop from your nightstand instead of out of your bag, you slow your movements. 

The papers are the same. But you read them anyway. 

Parameter estimation: Make inferences on characteristics of the population, including distributions of the variables and the effect of one variable over another. 

It’s accursed the way the universe won’t let you live. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, estimation cannot be perfect. 

Estimation cannot be perfect. 

[_]

It’s Thursday

Class. Eat. Drink. Work.

Hypothesis testing: Determine whether null hypothesis is rejected or not after data observation. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, no null hypothesis in bayesian approach!!

[_]

It’s Friday

Eat. Drink. Work.

Latent means to have meaning but is yet to be manifested. The greek letters are placeholder values for values yet unknown. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue; values that you will find out

[_]

It’s Saturday

Eat. Drink. Work.

P(A|B) = [P(B|A)P(A)

              ——————

                     P(B)

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

 it gets less complicated

 promise :/ 

[_]

It’s Sunday.

Eat. Drink. Work.

The page is blurry. Your eyes hurt. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

you’ve got this!!! < 3

You give up.

It’s Monday.

8:14 AM. 

You barely glance at the front of the room; swift turn to the left and right up the steps. Dr. Cho’s outfit almost goes unnoticed by you, tamer than most. Bright Barbie pink with large polka dots, untucked into too tight white jeans. His crocs are sparkly, at least that’s what the twinkle from up here looks like. 

He’s insulting another author, the man’s ProQuest journal article open for the world to see like a mediaeval scandal. 

There’s another person next to the whiteboards, back to the wall, hands clasped in front of him. His hair is messy, shooting lasers into the carpet as he rocks the slightest bit, listening to the professor rip this author to shreds. 

An hour later, you’re staring into the JASP software like it was written in a different language. 

Glancing next to you, the boy in the spongebob hoodie is playing sharkboy and lavagirl by himself. On your other side, the girl has the same thing as you open on her laptop, her pen occupied with drawing about a hundred tiny gojos on a bright pink sticky note. 

Bright pink sticky note. 

You snap your gaze back to your screen quickly after that. 

9:58 AM. You start packing up, shoving everything into your bag. 

Dr. Cho doesn’t even notice you slip out of the room, hardly a minute to the end of the lecture.

In the hallway, you take your first real breath in two hours. 

It’s Tuesday.

You’ve come down with something, head heavy as you feel yourself burn up. Skipping class is easy when you sleep through your alarm and every phone call from a friend asking where you are. 

They drop by, armed with medicine and soup. You almost feel better. 

It’s silent after they leave, and you realise in that moment how much you hate it. 

Opening your laptop for the first time in over 24 hours, you turn on a random podcast to play in the background, needing something to fill the air before you lose it entirely. 

The screen lands right where you left on the incredulous data presentation, unsolved tutorial paper crumpled between the screen and keyboard like a wilted leaf. 

Hot, scalding tears sting your eyeballs when you realise there was nowhere to turn to.

It’s Wednesday.

After a long day of doing nothing, still sick from whatever plagued your body, you go to bed earlier than usual.

It’s Thursday. 

Walking out of class, your mind is empty. You’re still sniffling, still achey, but better than you were. The shawl wrapped around you is warm, and your hood covers the cold tips of your ears. 

This other class makes you feel better about yourself, especially when the content is digestible and so is the professor. The TA feels like a mere accessory in the room, something you’ve learned to appreciate. 

With your gaze lowered, you only see midriffs as you walk out the classroom into the busy hallway. 

It happens in an instant, the flash of a clenched hand as the owner walks by in quick stride. An unmistakable leather strap watch with a broken clock face on the wrist.

You freeze like you’ve been caught. 

The hard bump of someone coming out the room behind you is welcomed, the annoyed “Hey!” knocking you back to earth before you could even exit the dimension. 

You’re off centre. But it’s fine. 

It’s Monday.

“Midterm results are out Tuesday morning. If you have any questions I’ll be sitting at office hours on Wednesday and Thursday, four to six in the evening. Or you could send me an email, either’s fine.”

Dr. Cho isn’t here. Something you only found out when the pitt sank in your stomach as Mingyu cleared his throat at the full hour. 

You want to leave, not caring about how strange it’d look if you did. Not caring about how he would definitely notice if you did. You want him to shut up, to stop talking, for anything to halt the way his voice infiltrates your entire being, talking about things you don’t understand but more familiar than anything else. 

Mingyu’s voice is hoarse, and you loathe the way you can tell the difference. 

It’s Tuesday.

Midterm Results for Statistics in Psychological Research.

—  92/100

It’s Wednesday. 

4:10 PM. It’s almost too much for you. Almost. 

The screech of the door is loud, the slam of the handle’s rebound even more so. The room doesn’t so much as glance at you at the door, the half full seats preoccupied with more important things. 

The front desk perks up immediately, eyes shooting towards the door for the nth time that day, like he was expecting someone that never seemed to show up. 

It’s ironic, you think, how Mingyu never seemed to notice you walk into the room for the many months you’ve walked in just for him. And now, as you walk in fists clenched and jaw set, eyes wild and burning, he’s breaking away from a student to look at the door before you even come into view. 

“Did you feel bad?” you spit.

“What?” he whispers. He seems to come around, glancing back before continuing, “Can we talk? Please.”

“Answer the question, Mingyu,” you snap. You don’t care there’s a confused student sitting right across from the both of you, his slot interrupted by your barge. “Did you feel so bad you had to give me something I didn’t earn?”

He’s stood up now, half confused. “Is this about the midterm—”

“I did not get a ninety two, I know I didn’t,” you grit. “Whatever happened before that stupid paper made sure I wouldn’t.”

Mingyu says your name and the sound makes you want to vomit. “What makes you think I’d do something like that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I fucked up because of you?” you announce, louder than before. 

The world disappeared, your tunnel vision pointed at Mingyu’s face that wears an expression you cannot even begin to read. The unbecoming tears in your eyes are of a type of unadulterated rage you’ve felt only a few times before. Your heart is going about a million miles a breath, everything else only triggering an added bout of infuriated tremble in the forefront of your emotions. Nothing makes sense. 

Mingyu pushes back his chair in silence, stalking over to a large cupboard in the corner of the room. He shuffles around for a minute before returning. 

There’s a packet being thrust into your fists when he reaches you. He does not meet your eyes. 

A bright red 92/100 marks the front page.

“Here. It was all you, if you can’t believe me.”

It’s a careful mark, unmistakable lines and curves of the nine and the two. 

Reality is slow to sink in, but for some reason it’s only making you angrier. The paper curls under the pressure of your fingertips. You don’t open the packet. You refuse to flick through the pages. 

Because you know you’ve lost.

It’s Thursday. And it’s full of regret. 

There’s a sickness in you, from that dreaded day, something beyond what affects your body temperature and your energy. It’s in your mind, flooding the nerves that swim through every crevice and cave of your brain, a physical venom that does the opposite of kill but also the opposite of letting you live. 

There’s a feeling in you, that even if you were to open your mouth, unhinge your jaw, try to scream as loud as your throat would allow, there would be no sound. Something like a horrible dream, that you need to screw your eyes tight shut to fall out of. Except you aren’t waking up from this one. 

In a coffee shop, where Mingyu held your hand in a reassurance you now bleed for, you were sure he was real. Real like some deiform image; too good to be true. 

In your bed, dry tears on your face, midterm packet sifted through that showed you absolutely everything that you did right, thanks to him. He feels too real. Real like a cloud of obsidian that follows you everywhere, like the sad that’s been sleeping with you every night. 

If there was a way to hate someone more than a human limit, you’ve crossed it with the resentment you’ve now fostered for yourself. 

Barging into office hours like that, accusing him on a basis of nothing but your own dangerously stewed thoughts. If there was a hope of salvaged parts, you took a hammer to it in disregard; tearing it to ribbons that lay at your feet. 

It’s Friday.

At least it was. It bled into Saturday before you realised the 3:23 AM on the dial. 

Two weeks of no help and you already feel lightyears behind. The hour is getting to you, and you feel the frustration pool into tears, that turn into full fledged sobs. You’re crying over Bayesian inference and it’s somehow more pressing than any other emotion you’ve ever felt. 

Impossible numbers on your data sheets taunt you, not a single reference to if it was a button you clicked wrong or if you were playing a fool’s game altogether. 

Ding! You pick up your phone, the weight of it is enough gravity to pull you back to earth. 

[Mingyu]: switch to bF10 

[Mingyu]: you’ve been pulling numbers from bF01

It’s immediate the way your eyes dart towards your lit screen, clicking off tables to get to the drop down menu you need. And there on the left, two tiny buttons, one clicked on bF01. 

With shaking fingers, you move your cursor to hover over the tiny bF10, anticipating. You click. It takes a moment for the numbers to change, but they do. The nominal values turn into something you can actually work with. 

Something akin to a tut leaves you, hidden in the breath of another sob. It’s stupid, unreasonable, absurd. Your fingers hover over your phone, shaking as tears drop onto the screen, faster than before. 

Do you not miss me?

Do you not want me around?

Talk to me

I miss you

Please talk to me

“I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true.”

Mingyu is a product of his personality. You can only imagine he’s helped because he saw you struggling in class, heard from someone else, or perhaps, he just knew the very thing you’d make blunders out of. 

The reasons come to you, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. Then why does it hurt? Why does it feel like the knife’s twisted a full 360, that despite the way you accused him of the thing that would strip him of everything he’s bruised himself for, he helps you. The very thing that caused this rift in the first place. 

There’s a reason for that, and it is again, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. 

It’s Saturday. 

Perhaps you relied on your olfactory senses to remain calm, because you always knew you could count on a coffee shop to forever and always smell the same. 

The universe seems to want to ruin that for you too. 

“Latte, please,” you voice. “Iced.”

“We have a one plus one for the week! Would you like to receive another latte?” The lady taking your order looks no older than 17, a pep in her voice. 

“Um, no thank you. Just one, please.”

She looks taken aback, a reasonable reaction to anyone turning down a free drink. But you couldn’t bring yourself to walk home with two cups in hand. 

You’re plucking a napkin from the pickup counter when you hear his name. 

“...that he manipulated her grade because they were hooking up.” 

“He has time to hook up?”

“I remember hearing about that! She barged in during office hours and asked why he fixed her grade or something.” 

“A ninety two? In that class? Oh, they were definitely fooling around with each other.”

“Whatever, at least we know he’ll entertain you if he likes you enough. I’m just glad those two are over so I can swoop in.”

There’s an eruption of giggles. You press your head down further. 

“Unless he flirts in variables.”

“All is forgiven when you’re born with a face like that.” 

Another explosion of giddy laughter, through which your drink is slid across the counter towards you, like it was waiting for you to hear the damning evidence before you could leave. You grab it anyway, grip tighter than usual. 

Turning around, your eyes search, finding a group of people that sit in smiles and in various states of trust-falls. 

There she is, the girl you sat with on the first day you attended office hours, the one with the glitter gel pen doodles on her notes and her blatant fawns over the TA you slipped under just as easily. 

She locks eyes with you and her face falls, eyes widening the slightest bit in recognition. 

Pressing your lips into a smile, you hope it doesn’t look as menacing as you feel. You don’t wait for a response before you walk out the large glass doors.

It’s Sunday.

It seems every sip of water you’ve taken during the week has been used up in all the tears you’ve seemed to be shedding. By the bucketload.

Alas, even blurry and puffy eyed, you pour over statistical formulas anyway, running on no energy and all antagonism. It’s another tutorial sheet left incomplete, a single question taking a pour that lasts in at least an hour of struggle. 

Reading the same question for the nth time, your palms press into your temples as you stare lasers into the paper, like the revelation would come to you if you stared it down hard enough. It doesn’t make sense, the commands you’ve toggled on and off identical to the instructions on the page. 

Hence the question begs why the data was coming out like someone pressed the ultimate on a number generator. 

With a heat of unreasonable embarrassment, you find yourself checking your selection in one of the drop down menus, switching to bF01 and back just to see the difference. It does nothing to help, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved it wasn’t that particular snag. 

The library is as silent as it could possibly be on a Sunday morning, near empty as you occupy the mostly vacant seats. The librarian is having her own day off, as you could swear she’s playing computer games behind the counter instead of actual work. 

The only noise in the room is your own breathing, and that seems to be enough to mess with your concentration. You’re going cross eyed staring at the page for so long, the words doubling and  disappearing before going back to normal. 

Bayesian inference…z scores…null hypothesis…

Wait. 

It’s like you can see it in front of your eyes right now, the scribble of someone else’s dark blue on your notes.

no null hypothesis in bayesian approach

Bayesian approaches don’t use null hypotheses. And z scores are in…

“Oh my god, this is a t test,” you whisper to yourself in disbelief. Immediately, you’re scrambling to shake your laptop out of its sleep, switching over to a t test to redo everything, following the instructions on the same data set. 

And there it was…a clear 0.067 under the p value. 

In a moment of questioning, you laugh out a breathy sound, the absurdity of it all becoming too real. T tests were the first thing you learned, the foundation to all your statistical knowledge. Coming so far, and it took you days to realise the instructions under a Bayesian approach were for a different realm entirely. 

It was stupid of you. But in this difficult aftermath you can’t help but feel victorious. Laughing to yourself quietly in this empty library. 

When the initial adrenaline fades and you’ve double, triple checked to ensure you were right, you can only stare at the tiny mail button in your shortcuts on the screen. It was clearly an error, one that was given out to nearly a hundred students. 

The first step was clicking, your inbox coming to life as you drift towards the big blue button with the readily available NEW MAIL. So you click. 

There’s an attached file in the email you draft. 

The tutorial paper has titled t test instructions as a Bayesian approach. Just wanted to point it out and ask if I could receive a corrected version. 

Regards, YN

It’s almost like you’re trying to remember how it feels like when you type an experimental m in the To bar. His name pops up immediately, email address typed out in full, full name clear on top as a regular contact. 

You don’t need a suggestion to remember, his email came easier to you than your own. 

But you don’t email him, backspacing till it’s empty once again. 

Dr. Cho’s email sits in that place instead, a first for you. 

SEND.

You don’t expect him to reply on a Sunday, in fact, you aren’t sure if he’s going to respond at all. You’ve already shut your laptop, half out of your seat in an attempt to pack up. You’re forced to consider. 

Would it be terrible to go back and cc him as well? 

A spiteful part of you might find joy in correcting him for a change. The rational part of you wants to actually finish the tutorial before tomorrow’s class when you’d have to tackle another beast for the rest of the week. 

Sitting back down, you move without thinking. Your mind is still cooking up possibilities as you swing your screen open once again, still weighing as you click back into your inbox. 

There’s a new email in your sent box after you’re done, a copy of the one you sent your professor, the same attachment and the same question; word for word. The only difference, a more familiar name in the address bar. 

Before you can chicken out, you slam your laptop shut for the actual last time, shoving everything into your bag before the speeding thoughts can infiltrate your mind's barrier. You’re out the door before you know it, ready to be done with this. 

You’re afraid if you put a hand to your stomach it’d be met with kicks and punches, especially with the way you feel the aggressive cartwheels slashing away at your insides. The butterflies are making it to the end of your food pipe, and you briefly wonder if you need to break into a sprint to make it to a safe throwing up zone. Your entire being jolts as you feel a buzz in your hands, a loud click that signifies a new email in your inbox. 

Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, you stop. 

The grip you have on your phone is unyielding, your fingers beginning to hurt from the pressure. There’s no way to tell if you’re shaking or not, but you bring your phone to your face anyway. The screen flips on, a lone notification on the screen. 

RE: Tutorial Error from Kim Mingyu

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since you sent that email, the library still in sight from where you stand. At the same time, it’s almost funny you expected any different from him. 

The kicks and punches in your stomach halt, the cartwheels have calmed, the butterflies have fallen asleep. The grip on your phone has loosened, and it’s like every nerve in your body went from on fire to serenity in a whiplash inducing shift. 

Clicking on the notification, the email opens. 

Noted. I have another tutorial sheet for you if you want it. I’ll be in the room where office hours are held for the rest of the morning.

Kim Mingyu, T.A.

There was no way he didn’t have a softcopy he could send you in less than a minute, and you’re sure he knew you’d realise that too. You should scoff, be upset, roll your eyes. 

But instead, you find your feet making a 180, turning around to go right back to where you came from. You walk, eyes still half trained on the email, reading and rereading as you walk back onto campus, towards the building you’d once considered a second home. 

You walk, and walk and walk, in through the doors, up the stairs and then another set of them, you take a left and look up. The hallway is empty, the door on the right coming into view as you slow your steps significantly. 

Closer and closer, you realise the light surrounding it is brighter than usual. The door is open, and you can see the empty rows of tables and chairs, set neatly against one another. It’s strange, you’ve never seen it wide open before. 

Walking even closer, you can see the beginnings of the professor’s desk come into view, and it only takes you one more step forward. 

Standing in the doorway now, you find yourself in the direct path of the sun that pours in through the open windows. It’s warm, but just enough to combat the cooling weather. 

The desk up front is occupied, as it always is. 

Mingyu is only in a t-shirt and trousers, glasses perched on his nose as he scrawls away on the paper in front of him. His laptop is turned on, screen facing the door where you stand, his inbox open and available even on the weekend. 

It wasn’t that you were waiting for him to notice, but you found yourself inadvertently taking your time looking at him. Every other situation, you’d done your absolute best to avoid your eyes grazing over him at all costs, hardly drifting over his form before flitting away. You never did it on purpose, but it was more like you were unconsciously protecting yourself.

 Like looking at him would only make the ache in your heart worse.

If that was the case, you would’ve been right. There’s a tug in your chest, and in that moment, it all comes flooding in like a gate destroyed. 

Mingyu looks up and sees you in the doorway, standing immobile. He sets his pen down, taking his glasses off. There’s the smallest hint of a smile on his face as he greets you, “‘Morning.”

You take it as your cue to move forward, stepping foot into the patch of sun slowly. “‘Morning.”

You reach the desk, standing in front of him, the only thing blocking you being the littered table with files, papers and stationary; the trench between you both. 

It’s so silent it tears at your insides, gripping the strap of your bag to have something to do. 

“I, uh, double checked when I saw the email. You were right, nobody noticed in class either.” There’s an airiness in his voice, like he might be struggling just as much as you are right now. 

He clears his throat when you don’t respond, looking back down at his workspace like he was looking for something. He finds a paper from some stack, handing it over to you. 

“Thanks,” you hoarse. It’s the same tutorial you had, except the instructions had been crossed out, replaced by a list of handwritten instructions instead, detailed in their annotation. You recognise it, because of course you’d recognise his handwriting. 

“I didn’t have time to print one out right now. I’ll probably send a corrected copy to everyone tonight,” he explains. 

“That’s alright.” You look up, lips pressed together, eyebrows forced into a regular position on your face. Nodding, you thank him once again. “Thanks again. I’ll…get going.” 

Every fibre in your body screams at you to turn back around, hollering profanities at your inability to deal with this. You’re already halfway to the door though, and your pride’s already deemed it too late. 

Please stop me, please stop me, please stop me, please just say something and stop me—

There it is. Your name, from his mouth, in his beautiful voice. 

Turning back around is the easiest thing you’ve ever done. 

Mingyu has stood up from his seat, out from behind the desk. He looks like he wasn’t expecting you to turn back. “Can we talk?” 

And then he’s pulling out the chair he was sitting on, presenting it like a piece offering. If you heard correctly, you could’ve sworn you heard his voice break the slightest bit when he pressed, “Please?”

So there you were, in a position all too familiar as you sit across from the man that’s haunted you for the past weeks, trying to keep your chest from falling in. 

“I guess I should start with an apology,” he’s fidgeting with his own fingers. “I don’t need to give you excuses about stress or exhaustion because…”

He closes his eyes, trying to find the words. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you. You were only trying to help and I was too preoccupied with myself to notice. I’m sorry I spoke to you like that when you didn’t deserve it.” 

For about the millionth time, you realise you’re tearing up again. He continues. “And then…right before the midterm too. You were right, I did feel horrible. But I swear that grade was all you, I didn’t touch those numbers.”

He really didn’t, because the papers he had thrust into your hands on that fateful day in this very room proved that you earned that mark. You wince regardless.

“I thought I could apologise before the exam started but I couldn’t find you, and then you were gone right after. I didn’t text or call because I was sure I’d fucked it all up.” 

“I’m sorry too. For barging in in front of everyone and basically accusing you. I wasn’t thinking straight.” You look up from your lap, wet lashes and all. “I really hope you didn’t get into any trouble.” 

“I–no, I didn’t.”

“Are you sure? Because—”

“I promise I didn’t.” He locked eyes with you when he said that, hoping you’d believe him. You nod slowly. 

“It wasn’t even that bad, what you said,” you sniffled. 

He scoffs at that, “I’d beg to differ.”

“I would’ve gotten over it,” you continue, bracing yourself to admit to something you’ve had trouble admitting to yourself. “I should’ve gotten over it. I don’t know why it hurt so much, why watching you walk out felt so horrible. But I haven’t been acting like normal ever since, and I’m sorry for stretching this whole fiasco out into something that didn’t need to turn into…this!”

“You were hurt because I hurt you.”

“People have said worse things to me. And you were practically a zombie, I should’ve just left it for another time. It was a little bit my fault too. But…yeah.”

There’s a silence as you try to remind yourself to breathe. You speak up again. “I just want us to go back to normal. I’ve missed you. Alot.”

“Me too. The go back to normal bit. And the…missed you bit.”

Mingyu’s half smiling when you look up, biting your lip hard as you try to keep a smile of your own at bay. “I’d thought if I gave up and admitted I was struggling that day, that’d be admitting defeat. That you’d think I…couldn’t do it.” 

Why on earth do you care so much? It rings in your ears. 

You sound light when you say it though, knowing now it wasn’t what he meant.“Since when are we on caring terms?” 

Mingyu cringes. "We are. I am, at least, if you aren't anymore, which is fine. I care about you. A lot."

It’s hard to not let out a laugh. He looks half constipated as he tries to navigate his words. 

“Oh well I’d hope you’d care, since you’re my TA and all.”

“Not in a TA way.”

“Tutor way.”

“Um.”

“Friend way? A human way?” 

“No.”

You both know you’re being obtuse on purpose, and you aren’t sure why. Maybe you just like to watch him squirm. 

“You know what?” he rasps. 

“What?”

Your answer comes in the form of Mingyu lurching to grab the legs of your chair, pulling the wheels to crash into him where he sits. You’re not expecting it, the clashing legs causing you to swerve forward, hands on Mingyu’s lap. 

And then his hand is on the back of your neck, and his lips placed on your own. 

You’re stiff as a board, brain computing the fact that Mingyu is kissing you in a classroom. 

It’s short, hardly a few moments before he pulls away. “Does that clear things up?”

There’s nothing you can do but blink at him, the reality of it all settles in. “Hm.”

He laughs at your half dazed state. It’s a purely instinctual part of you that speaks after this. “Maybe one more time. To make sure.”

Mingyu doesn’t even wait to laugh again as he wastes no time, putting his mouth on yours properly this time. There’s more of a drive in you this time, moving your mouth against his and he keeps your head close. 

The ecstasy is slow but sure to build in your stomach. Mingyu is kissing you. Mingyu is sitting with you and kissing you so good you’re already half faint. 

His mouth tastes like coffee and remnants of berry, a combination you can’t believe you could enjoy this much. Licking into his mouth, you let your tongue drag over his, like the tactile would convince you this wasn’t some too vivid fever dream. 

He pulls away for a moment, but hardly so as his lips remain pressed onto yours. 

“For the record,” he pants. “I love that you care. And I hope you’ll keep caring. Because I don’t think I can handle it if you walk away after this.”

Mouth back on his own, you decide there’s only one way to convince him you weren’t going anywhere without dragging him with you. 

MINGYU'S APARTMENT IS CLEANER than you expected. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, perhaps more mad scientist than anything else. But the most you find is a mug and plate in the sink, and a moderately crowded study desk, which is to be expected. 

Mingyu decided to abandon his work for the day to spend it with you, to which you contest that it was Sunday anyway. His response is making you change into something comfortable of his so you could laze on his couch. 

Like you would run away if he didn’t, Mingyu keeps his arms around you in a tight hold, fingers curling around your shoulders as you lay on top of him. Your head rests directly over his heart, his cheek and lips taking turns to occupy the top of your head.  

You fill him in on everything, and realise the most eventful weeks you’ve spent were actually quite uneventful in hindsight. He feels up your cheek and forehead when you tell him you got sick at one point, to which you have to reassure him it was either something going around or stress that you subjected on yourself. 

“I went to a frat party,” Mingyu mumbles into your forehead. “For Halloween.”

The information has you shifting to look up at him in bewilderment, “You went to a frat party?”

He snorts, “Dressed up for it too.”

“Oh my god,” you voice in mild horror. “Do I wanna know?” 

“Wonwoo and I matched,” he hums as he pulls out his phone, scrolling his gallery to look for pictures. “I was Mario, he was Luigi.”

“How adorable.”

He only gives you a look and shoves the phone in your face. By some grace of god they aren’t wearing moustaches, but the distinct red and green outfits are enough to give you enough recognition. 

“Thing 1 and Thing 2 were also possible contenders,” he informs. 

“That might’ve been a little better.”

“What’s wrong with Mario?” he asks sharply.

“Nothing. But I do hope you weren’t sporting an Italian accent throughout that.” 

“I was,” he pushes. “A horrible one too.”

You give him the satisfaction of an eye roll. 

“You could’ve gone as Peach. We could’ve matched.” 

“I don’t know if I’d wanna wear any available Peach costumes during Halloween time.” You crinkle your nose as you think of all the racy costumes that unearth every October. 

“Maybe in private,” he says with an insufferable smile on his face. 

Placing your hands flat on his chest, you rest your chin and look up at him. “I’m not sure I want to interrupt whatever you two have going on.” 

“Who?”

“You and Wonwoo, you’re practically married.”

Mingyu laughs out loud, and you can feel the rumble in his chest against your hands, his body moving against your own that’s stuck to him. “Not with whatever he has going on with his girl.”

“Oh right,” you frown in remembrance. “What happened to not understanding how he does it?” 

“Hm?”

“He’s a TA too. Probably just as busy as you. You said you didn’t know how he could juggle a relationship and his job at the same time.”

His eyes spark in remembrance, pausing for a moment. “I may owe him an apology.”

“Do you?”

Mingyu frowns, “Actually no I don’t. I don’t think he and his lady are doing too well right now. He’s been insufferable lately.”

“Is it because of the TA-ing?”

“I never know with those two,” he sighs.

There’s silence once again, in the midst of which Mingyu leans over to kiss you a few times, soft and lingering. Like he’s trying to familiarise himself with the shape of your mouth, the tactile feeling of kissing you. 

“Do you…know about us?” There’s hesitancy in the way you ask. But you can’t help but ask anyway.

Mingyu thinks for a moment, and it has your heart beating out of your chest. “I know that I want us to be concrete. That I wanna work around whatever life throws at us. You can decide what to call it, but I know I’m in it for the long run.”

“I’m glad you’re smarter than your husband,” you smile.

He only rolls his eyes, “He’s only good at one kind of chemistry.” 

“D’you think they’ll be okay?”

“Oh yeah,” he assures. “They’re just going through a…rough patch.”

“Like we did?”

“If you’re asking me, I’d say they’re being a little more stupid about it.”

The snort that leaves you is unanimous with his own. He continues, “They’ll be okay though.”

“I hope so. I’d like to go on double dates with my boyfriend’s husband’s girlfriend.” You start giggling in the middle of your sentence, too ridiculous even for you to voice. 

“This is getting weird,” Mingyu breathes. 

You only hum against his mouth, “Do I have to take your husband's blessing before we can move forward?”

“For fuck’s sake.” 

You’re both laughing again, a sound that comes from your stomachs, true and uncontrollable. For a moment, you can’t help but be conscious of how light you feel, how happy you feel with his scent infiltrating your nostrils, his presence known where his fingertips touch you. 

“I did the sticky note thing again too,” Mingyu says into the silence, and there’s nothing you can do to stop the fit of giggles that erupt all over again. 

“Said something worse this time,” he continues as you laugh into his chest. “Accept that you’ll die alone or some other shit like that.” 

There’s comfort in this moment. In your giggles and in your tears, in his voice and in his affection. His lips are another sanctuary you’ve found, and perhaps even another way to make your dreaded latch click. 

Nose nuzzled in his cheek, the feeling of his skin so soft against yours, fingers at his chin where a slight stubble grows, you relax in ways you cannot comprehend. 

MINGYU'S LIPS BECOME A feeling you’ve grown dangerously accustomed to. 

It isn’t that he has them on you too much, regardless of what an outsider might suggest; to you they simply aren’t on you enough. 

The following Monday went as usual, for you anyway. You weren’t avoiding Mingyu this time, and you were grateful for it. It was two hours of following him with your eyes as he darted around the room. You could hardly constitute it as not paying attention when Dr. Cho was preoccupied with explaining every reason he hates JASP over SPSS, but also ultimately, hates them both. 

You don’t even notice his loud outfit (overalls and a neon green sweater underneath), happy to watch Mingyu flit about and whisper incoherent explanations to students. 

The tutorial paper is barely looked at by you, because you know your boyfriend will be happy to help you out later at his place. 

You’re barely through the door that night when he gets a hold of you, tight grip across your waist as you’re catapulted into his arms, door slammed shut behind you. 

Bag still on your shoulders and your shoes still on, Mingyu’s slammed his mouth onto yours before you can take a proper breath. You stumble, squealing through the kiss as you realise you aren’t escaping the iron grip he’s got on your face. 

Somehow between it all, you manage to slip your bag off to let it drop to the floor of his doorway, shoes kicked off one after the other as he leads you inside, littering the way. 

“You aren’t actually paying attention in class anyway,” he breathes against your mouth before kissing you again. “So why don’t you sit in the back where you don’t distract me.”

“Who says I’m not paying attention.” You open your as your back lands on the couch, looking at him as he looms overhead. 

“You’re paying attention to me.”

“It was in my job description when I signed up for the girlfriend position.”

He’s all over you now, hands at your sides, mouth underneath your earlobes as he husks, “Was letting me take you in front of the entire class also a clause? Because if this goes on I might have to take up on that.”

If you didn’t know any better you would’ve assumed he’d been possessed, everything about his behaviour screaming the opposite of the well behaved, restrained man you’ve been accustomed to. The fact that he’s whispering directly into your ears isn’t helping either, a conspicuous shiver dragging across your spine. 

It lands with precision, right at your core. You’re too hot to tell, but there isn’t a doubt you’ve begun to pool. 

There’s a ding in the background. 

He’s suckling underneath your ear, his hands roaming in ways that would smear your reputation altogether. 

Another ding. 

He’s reached your mouth once again, groping your right breast lightly. Like he’s testing the waters.

Ding. 

Mingyu makes a noise of annoyance, the other hand trailing underneath your shirt. 

His ringtone blares throughout the room, whoever the caller was having reached wit’s end. 

“Gyu…” you whisper. 

“Ignore it,” he growls. The ringing has stopped. 

He ducks underneath to kiss at your stomach, lifting your shirt oh so slowly. He goes higher, and higher and higher, leaving a trail of kisses at the skin, taking deep breaths as he drags his mouth over your torso. 

His phone begins to ring again. 

Your head is spinning, your senses overcome. If you weren’t sure before, the air of wetness between your legs is definitely obvious now. 

He brings a hand to your centre, pushing inwards at your jean clad core. You exhale sharply yet shakily. 

The ringing stops. 

Mingyu makes a gumbled sound that you can’t quite make out, too preoccupied with the way your shirt is now up past your bra, at which Mingyu has taken to leaving open mouthed kisses to your cleavage. 

There’s a ding. 

“Mingyu, I really think—”

His phone begins to ring again. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he curses, rearing his head like an interrupted animal, wet mouthed and bleary eyed. He looks at his buzzing phone on the floor in an accusatory glare, like he wants to chuck it out the window and go right back to burrowing into your chest. 

“You should answer.” 

He looks irritated as he takes his phone in his hands, and you find a flash of Dr. Cho’s name on the screen. “It’s eleven O’clock.” 

“It might be important.”

“The last time he did this he asked where his peacock feather pen was,” he grunts as he silences his phone. 

You laugh, running a soothing hand through Mingyu’s hair, a tiny attempt to calm him down. Pulling your shirt down, you attempt to sit up. 

Mingyu makes a noise of denial, attempting to stick his face into your now clothed chest, knocking you back down, “Nooooo, I’m gonna ignore him.”

“He’s not going to leave you alone,” you sing quietly, running your nails across his scalp lightly, holding his head to your chest. You place your cheek on his head, playing with his ear. 

As if to prove your point, Mingyu’s phone begins to ring again, and he groans at the prospect. 

“Go on.”

He swipes to answer it. A loud sigh and then a tired, “Hello?”

His volume is bumped up enough for you to make out what’s being said on the other line. “Where have you been?”

“It’s nearly eleven, sir. I was in bed.”

“My flash drive won’t open up on my computer.”

You have to stifle a snort. 

“Is it…plugged in?”

“Of course it is, I’m not an idiot.”

“Is it showing up on your files?”

“Disk…is not…formatted.”

“Erm, it might be corrupted.”

“How did that happen?”

“Did you download something off the internet onto it?”

“Hardly matters, I need the attendance sheet on it!”

Your fingers are massaging Mingyu’s temples as you feel him tense on top of you. 

“Your attendance sheet is on the teacher’s portal,” Mingyu grits before adding, “sir.”

“...I have other things on there too.”

Mingyu exhales ever so quietly and you tighten your hold on him a smidge. “This sounds like something tech support could help with.”

“Why can’t you help?” he asks sharply. 

“I…I don’t know how, sir.”

There’s a noise of indignation from the other end, and you can’t help but keep from laughing. 

Mingyu sighs into the phone, this time doing nothing to hide it. “I’ll take it to tech support for you tomorrow. And I’ll send you a direct link for the attendance sheet for Monday and Tuesday’s classes.”

The line beeps shut. Mingyu brings the phone for you both to see the professor’s hung up as soon as the words left Mingyu’s mouth. 

“Wow,” you whisper into the silence, the weight of Mingyu’s head heavier on your chest. “Not even a thank you.”

“Absent father behaviour,” Mingyu grumbles as he moves his face to burrow into your shirt. 

It’s a bad joke, but you laugh anyway. 

“Will I be an asshole if I say I’m not in the mood anymore?” he murmurs. 

“Absolutely not. Everything sucked right back in the minute I heard his voice on the line.”

“Gross,” he comments, but he’s laughing too. 

“Should we call it a night?” he asks, rearing his head. 

Nodding, you rise with him. By the time you’ve reached the bedroom, you’ve already begun taking off your accessories, fiddling with your bracelet as you voice. 

“I need a shower.”

Mingyu throws you a towel and a t-shirt, which you catch and move towards the bathroom. Halfway through the door, you sneak a look at him fiddling with his belt. 

“Do you wanna come in too?” 

Mingyu looks at you peering through the door frame. You’ve never seen anyone leap across the room as quickly as in that moment. 

THE FOLLOWING DAYS WERE just as eventful as that phone call, Mingyu running around as the midterm low passed and the line creeped up towards finals season. 

Perhaps it was better that you stopped attending office hours, because the room seems to become increasingly packed as the days progressed. 

You only ever saw Mingyu in the wee hours of the night at his place, where he begged you to camp out till the end of the semester so he “doesn’t move to insanity”. It might even be better for you, going about your day as usual, without the usual added distraction of a partner.

Coming home to him was easier, where he could clear up your doubts while in ratty pyjamas and starfished across the bed, where you could find solace in Mingyu’s chest without prying eyes when the information became like filling an already stuffed junk drawer. 

It was a Friday night, you’re alone at Mingyu’s place sitting cross legged on the floor. The table in front of you is pouring over the final question of this week’s tutorial paper, everything seemingly whizzing right past the top of your head. 

Despite that, as Mingyu stumbles inside past eleven, you know you shouldn’t ask him for a thing. 

Tired was a look on Mingyu you’d gotten quite used to, so you’ve learned to not comment and simply let him fall into the couch cushions with all his weight. 

His face is parallel to yours as he closes his eyes with a light groan in greeting. Moving forward, you kiss the flutter of his eyelids softly, down to the apple of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth. 

Your fingers run through his tangled and distressed hair as he mumbles against your mouth. “Did you finish the tutorial paper?”

You huff in mild annoyance, that despite his state he still thinks about work. “Not yet. One last question and I’m done.”

He hums and waits a moment before reopening his eyes. With a loud groan he’s pushing himself off the couch, sliding off of it to sit with you on the uncomfortable floor. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

“I can figure it out myself, Gyu.”

“You would’ve been done by now if you could,” he answers. It’s annoying that he says it but he’s also right. 

Mingyu holds the paper a mere inch from his eyes, the sight almost comical if he also didn’t look an inch from passing out. 

He mumbles the question as he reads, “It’s nothing, just worded weird. Toggle this off and move this to mixed factors and you’re done.”

The toggles are done for you, and Mingyu takes the liberty crossing he question off with a pen he finds on the table. 

“Did you get everything else?” he asks in earnest. 

“Hm? I think so.” 

“Good.” And then he’s throwing his head back to rest it on the couch cushions behind him, breathing slowly. 

He’s in a navy sweater, collar of his undershirt peeking through the top. Your gaze leads up further, to the exposed area of his throat—clean, tan and naked. You realise this might not be a good time, but it’s only natural your mind cooks up other ways to translate your helplessness as you watch your boyfriend push himself to the brink. Release is never a bad idea. 

Besides, it’s a Friday night. No reason to not. 

“Gyu,” you shuffle closer. 

Lolling his head to look over at you, he answers in a small voice, “Yeah?” 

You put on the guiltiest face you can muster, complete with darting eyes and fidgeting fingers. “D’you think…d’you think you can go over post hoc tests again?”

“Post hoc?” He furrowed his eyebrows. You bite the inside of your cheek, having blurted the first plausible model you could think of to ask him. It’s an older bit of the syllabus, something you should already be well versed in. 

Not that you care what he thinks right now, he’d figure out why you were asking anyway. 

“Post hoc, um,” he rubs a hand over his face as if to jog his memory. 

Shifting forward, you plaster you front onto his side. He thinks nothing of it. 

“Analysis tool after you’ve already run the data,” he begins. 

Placing your chin on his shoulder, you let your nose nuzzle against his cheek. Trailing up, your lips find the shell of his ear. 

“Results have to be…they have to be…” He falters when your hand reaches his front, running across the expanse of his clothes stomach, nails digging ever so slightly as you reach his abdomen. You continue to place open mouthed kisses at the space of neck you can reach. 

“Hm? Has to be what?”

“Statistically significant,” he breathes when your palms reach the tops of his thighs. “To run a post hoc test.”

His trousers are less barrier inducing than regular jeans, something you’re both grateful for as you begin to palm his clothed bulge. “Results of what, baby?”

“For the love of—”

“Go on,” you whisper in his ear. “Please.”

One flick and his trousers are unbutton, pulling them aside as the zipper pulls open. You're pushing down his boxers when he answers you. “ANOVA.” 

“What’s that again?”

“You little shit.”

You move your mouth forward to kiss him.

“Analysis of variance.” 

You hum against the column of his throat at that, his half hard member in your hands. Light touches, that’s all they are, running the pads of your fingers across the pulsing length, coaxing him into full length. 

“What’s it for though? We already got our results.” Bending forward, you stick your tongue to kitten lick at his tip. Mingyu hisses, hips shifting. Your tongue swirls around the tip, pushing into the skin on the head where he’s most sensitive. 

“Ugh, fuck, for um,” he falters as you begin to suck at his head, tongue running over each hollow of your cheeks. 

“For…for…” His chest is moving up and down in quick breathes, every sound from his mouth coming from a deep rumble in his stomach. 

Letting go of his cock, you continue to pump him with your hand as you gaze up at him from your position. “For? Keep talking, baby.”

“For…To identify groups,” he grunts out. He lets out a louder moan when you place your mouth back on him, going past his tip and taking as much as you can of him into your mouth. “Identify…the differences, shit, hmph.”

He takes a loud breath before speeding through it again, “Identify which groups actually differ, oh my god.”

The bit of him that you can’t fit on your mouth is being pumped by your hands, fingers pushing into him like you were trying to indent them on the base of his cock. A glance upwards and you find his head thrown back, hands coming to tangle in your hair. His thumb caresses the side of your cheek.

“How many groups?” you ask, before diving back in. 

“Three,” he chokes out. “Three or more, oh I’m gonna cum, fuck don’t stop, holy shit.”

Both of his hands are at your head, guiding you as you suck him harder, faster, more tongue digging into his slit. You hum against his dick on purpose, making sure it’s coarse enough to get the reaction you want. 

You succeed, because immediately after you hear Mingyu rip out the loudest moan you’ve ever heard, his grip on your strands harder than ever. He cums into your mouth, hips stuttering as you place your entire weight on him to keep him in place. 

You let some of it dribble out your mouth and back over his softening dick like a hot coating, sucking him through shooting spurts of cum that land on your tongue. 

When you emerge from underneath, Mingyu looks like he got the soul sucked out of him; eyes closed, stuttered breaths raking through his entire body, a light sheen of the beginnings of sweat that glisten in the low light of the room. 

Reaching for the tissue box and water bottle on the table, you soak the napkins and bring them to clean him up. He whines when the cold tissues touch him where he’s most sensitive right now, you want to kiss him but account for the cum that is actively stuck to the walls of your mouth. 

You leave for a few minutes, much to Mingyu’s hoarse protests. He’s almost on all fours, hands on the floors as you promise to be back. By the time you’ve hauled his tired ass into bed, you’re just as ready to knock out as the half asleep man beside you. 

Mingyu’s face is plastered into your neck, arms and legs thrown over your form as he hugs you close to him. 

“I might love you,” he says into the darkness. A secret, just for you and the walls to hear. 

You hide the way your heart absolutely leaps, conceal the way your hands tighten around his form into an affectionate caress, hold your breath to prevent the inevitable hitch. 

I might love you too. 

You hide that as well. For now. 

Smiling into the skin of his temples, you sigh.

“Feel free.”

[Mingyu]: class ended early 

[Mingyu]: be there in 5 

[You]: ???

[You]: wdym ended early

[You]: kim did u end class early to come home

Your response comes in the form of the front door lock jiggling loudly. You’d stayed the night at his place, knowing you didn’t have anything to do but study by yourself. Sickly as you were, you doubt you could sit through two hours of even more statistics. 

He’d left you in bed with a kiss, needing to be extra early since Dr. Cho decided to dump the last crucial few weeks leading up to finals season entirely on his TA. As much as there was on Mingyu’s already overflowing plate now, you couldn’t deny the elated feeling of your attendance being taken care of regardless of whether you show up to class or not. 

A very real violation, but no one truly notes one skipped student in the midst of hundreds. Besides, the bag under Mingyu’s pretty eyes might be enough for anyone to have mercy and let the supposed mistake slide.

As Mingyu walks into the room, shoes flying and back dumped on the floor, he finds you still half clothed with leftover sleep in your eyes, standing in the middle of the living space like you were lost. 

He drops his things to come and drown you in his arms, loud kisses all over your face as you talk. “You’re getting too comfortable with this job.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t possibly expect me to teach a bunch of half asleep idiots when my woman is all alone at home, sickly and cold without me.”

You grumble wordlessly as you feel him check your temperature with the back of his hand. “How’s the congestion?”

“Bad,” you respond nasally. “I can’t find my Afrin.”

“It’s on the bedside table, baby.”

“No, it’s not.”

Still wrapped in his hold, Mingyu begins to take steps forward that lead towards the bed, pushing you to walk backwards.

“I’m not awake enough to navigate,” you sniff.

“I’ve got you,” he lowtones, pushing backwards slowly. 

The back of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back into the unmade sheets. You crawl back under the covers as Mingyu navigates between used tissues, water bottles and pills on the bedside table. But no sign of your nasal spray. 

You have to breathe through your mouth and you hate it, but you send a remark his way anyway. “Told you.”

Mingyu bends down and emerges with a familiar red capped bottle. He stares at you while you stare at it, choosing to simply snatch it from his presenting hands and be done with it. 

“Good thing I came back early, hm?” 

“Shut up.”

He leaps over your form to claim the spot in bed right next to you, still fully clothed as he burrows under the covers next to you.

There’s nothing flattering about the way you stick the nozzle up your nostrils and sniff hard, but the gleam in your boyfriend’s eyes might as well suggest you were trying to get him to look at you like that. 

“Are you gonna keep doing this till finals?” you ask throatily, shifting under the covers. 

“Teaching during class time is just extended office hours, I’m gonna go insane if I keep going like this. Probably just today. Or…once more if I feel it.”

“Didn’t you say you were gonna extend office hours to Fridays too?” 

Mingyu moulded himself against you, giving warmth to your shivering body even under thick blankets. 

It seems throughout the course of your relationship, your time with Mingyu is either spent laying down or in the process of doing so. Not that you mind, you’ve found that remaining horizontal was what worked best for someone like Mingyu who seemed to want to fuse with your very being whenever you were together.

“Ugh, not this week. Do not have the patience.”

“I’m proud of you,” you say, eyes closed, already on the highway to dreamland. 

“Thank you, I do think I’ve been very brave.” Even while slipping into dreamland, you find the good sense to find his nipple through his sweater and give it a hard pinch. He jerks away in a yelp, clutching his chest. 

“What’s that for?!”

You ignore him and simply run your hand over the area you just attacked. “You’ve gotten better at knowing when to slow down. I’m proud of you.”

You’re too far gone to make out what he answers you with, but with the hot breath against your already warm forehead, you decide it's more than enough for you. 

MINGYU DOES IT FOR the fourth time, but this time round he’s smart enough to not tell you. 

It’s the Friday before finals week officially begins, and you remain in your own place for once to crack down on the last bits of syllabus you want to go over, away from your extremely distracting boyfriend. 

There’s a text when you check your phone after a couple hours of hyperfocus, and you narrow your eyes at the notification. 

It’s Wonwoo’s (actual) girlfriend, and she’s sent you nothing but a picture of both of your men on Wonwoo’s living room floor, thoroughly occupied with the floored expanse of sheets, pillows and cushions. 

It’s a pillow fort.

Your boyfriend is building a pillow fort in his not-husband’s living room mere days before the final exam for the most dreaded course of the semester. All while he’s actively meant to be available for office hours.

You want to laugh. The man that stayed up multiple nights to answer stupid questions in emails, is now less than concerned about the pandemonium that is probably ensuing in the department building. It isn’t that you’re upset, because this was what you wanted from him. To learn to take a break when it was needed. But you would also prefer he’d time them a little better. 

Inevitably, you text him, but not before sending an encouraging text to your girlfriend-in-law for putting up with the both of them all by herself. 

[You]: where are you

[Mingyu]: where im meant to be?

[You]: office hours?

[Mingyu]: mhm

[You]: are u and ur husband conducting them under a pillow fort in his house

You imagine him sending Wonwoo’s girlfriend a betrayed look. Perhaps even throw a frilled throw pillow in her unassuming direction. 

[Mingyu]: DONT KILL ME

You let him suffer in your silence, clicking your phone off and leaving it somewhere you won’t be tempted to look. 

Besides, it wasn’t long before there was an incessant banging at your door that you ended up needing to get up to open. He looks so timid, the face of an innocent perpetrator that waltzes into your space. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins, following you to your desk like a lost duckling. 

“Whatever for?”

“For lying.” 

You snort as you sift through tutorial sheets, “Might wanna take that up to the poor hopeless student that thought you were their last hope.”

Mingyu’s head sinks to your shoulder where you sit at your desk. “God.”

“Him too.”

In another few moments, his arms have come around to cage you into your desk where you’re sat, hands placed on the table as he towers over the top of your head, mouth to crown. 

“Rumour has it,” he starts. 

You make a face. “Now you’ve joined in on gossip? Maybe I have steered you wrong.”

He ignores you valiantly as his mouth drops lower, down to the beginnings of the tips of your ears. You can smell him. He smells good. 

“That a textbook recitation is all it takes to get you all bothered down there.”

Lifting your head from its craned position over your papers, you stare straight ahead. Blank and unassuming. 

“Take a hike, Kim.”

“...Sorry.”

NO MATTER HOW FAKE annoyed you were at your boyfriend, you cannot possibly credit anyone else for how smooth your finals had gone. 

Not a single tear, hack or whine. Your meals were on time, your sleep schedule the healthiest it’s been for months. You even managed a movie night break in the midst of it all. A record for you. 

The very first thing you do after walking out of the exam hall, stretching and sighing, you find Mingyu waiting with nervous eyes. 

“Well?” he asks, eyes wide and lips pulled into his teeth. 

You merely grab for his hand and pull him out of the crowded hall and past a few familiar turns. 

“For the record I didn’t want some of the questions on there,” he yaps as he follows behind your stalks. “Hard ones weren’t mine. I promise I’m not a sadist.”

Then, in an un-CCTV’d corner, marked by the broken, empty vending machine, you round up on him. In seconds you’ve pulled him down to meet your lips in an eager, full kiss. 

In the moments your lips remain intact, you can feel all the horrid statistical knowledge you’d gathered over the months slip out the cracks and crevices, relieving you. 

Mingyu is careful to let you pull away first, eyes sticky to open when you do. There’s a smile on your face. “It went great.”

A strong tug against your waist and you’re suddenly pressed into Mingyu’s all too familiar hold, so everloving tight you can hardly breathe. His lips are smacking and pressing into your skin, all over your face, neck and hands. Anywhere he could possibly reach. 

There wasn’t much he could do standing in a huddled corner at nine in the morning on a Tuesday, where anyone could pass by and question what in the high school was going on. But there was more than enough Mingyu could do behind closed doors. 

In true Mingyu fashion, he’s begun to grope in every way you love the minute the lock clicks shut of his apartment, every fibre of both of your beings giddy and jumpy, giggles erupting from your tired mouths. You haven’t been touched in ages, always too tired to do anything even when you would find the time. 

It isn’t remotely strange that you're wet from only a few kisses and hot breaths against your neck. Although Mingyu’s hands haven’t been modest either, already reaching your clothed cunt as you fall into bed. 

He says it was your reward, for doing so good, his illustrious mouth suctioned onto your naked core, moving and grinding in ways you can more than just appreciate.

His tongue is nothing below made for you, like he knows exactly when to flick his tongue, graze his teeth and all but suck the daylights out of you. It’s marvellous, even more so as you realise he won’t stop. One, two, three mind blowing orgasms later, your legs still shake around his head as you cry out for him to stop. 

Not that he was going to listen, as he did not the last fifteen times you tried, simply pushing a finger into your abused hole to chuck you into yet another climax. You’re sobbing, trembling, sweating; but also half hearted in your attempts to stop him. 

By the time he’s relented, you’re sure you won’t feel a thing down there for at least a week. If Mingyu will even let you go untouched for that long. 

But as you’re finally able to catch your long lost breath in bed, and Mingyu has curled up right beside you, like he always does, you let the finality of it all sink in. You were done. And so was he. And you could now begin to experience a Mingyu that wasn’t exhausted, stressed or tired. Even now, the long indented layers of fatigue begin to melt away, revealing a less strained man. 

Mingyu was beautiful either way. 

“Are you okay?” he asks you, his fingers tracing your features. 

The pads of his fingers glide across your eyelids, down the slope of your nose, tracing the outline of your lips. You kiss his fingers as they reach you there, hand coming up to hold his wrists. You kiss the tips of his fingers, down to the palm of his hand. Eyes closed, you keep your lips there. 

“More than okay,” you mumble. 

“Good. Thought I lost you there.”

Stretching unceremoniously, you drape yourself over his naked form, head on his shoulder. “You’re not losing me. Not after being the sole reason I pass this devil’s module.”

“Is that all it takes? Make sure you don’t fail?”

“And give head like that.” It’s a half joke. “But also be Kim Mingyu comma TA.”

He mimics you between a breathy laugh, “Comma TA. Not anymore, I guess.”

“How happy are you?”

“Still have to grade the last set of papers. But I got what I wanted.”

“The recommendation? You deserve it.”

“That, and not having to be in Dr. Cho’s presence every other day. And you.”

You kiss his shoulder. “Look at you. All grown up with your big boy grad school on the horizon.”

“Not just yet.”

“You’ll get there too. If you can power through this hellsent semester, you can power through anything grad school applications throw.”

Mingyu shifts where he lays, taking a turn to lie on his side to face you. The afternoon sun peeks from behind his form, his outline made of pure gold. His breath is in your face as he talks, and there’s comfort in the air it penetrates.

“I only powered through this because of you. I hope you know that.” He’s smiling. 

“Girlfriend duties,” you quote solemnly. 

“I mean it. I knew I was walking into disaster with how this stupid job was going, all that work was just a distraction. I didn’t wanna believe this was a bad idea. And then you walked in.”

You cup his face and pout, “Oh, my damsel in distress.”

“Hm, my knight in shining armour,” he giggles. “Galloped in and saved me from myself.”

“You saved me too. From the world and its horrible creations.” 

“I’ll start talking in formulas if this keeps up.” 

You can only grumble in mild annoyance. 

“I’m glad I asked you to come in early that day,” he says.

“I’m glad I was a good samaritan and gathered all your stuff that day.” You grin.

Mingyu leans in and kisses you. It’s soft, slow, and drips of the romance he’s trying to bring into the conversation. His lips are bliss, the feeling of him is bliss. 

It’s almost scary how easily you’ve been able to give yourself to him. How quickly he’s placed himself in every nook and cranny of your heart. With his tired eyes and stronger than himself smile, the hand he extended in ways beyond you could ever explain to him. It’s terrifying when you realise what remains on the tip of your tongue, ready and bursting. 

But it’s true, and you can only pray it remains that way. Because in that moment, naked and tangled between Mingyu’s limbs, his heart in your ears, your hands on his being, you just know. 

“I think I might love you too.” 

[writingwisterias]

i need a fic where di leon is a grumpy farmer and reader is the golden retriever girl who went to spend time with her grandparents and is invading his farm to steal the strawberries from his garden (obs: she is a little afraid of him) HDJEKDGWJDGWJ😭😭 im hungry to read something like this PLS SAVE ME

Anon you won me over with this! It's like you know me and my love for strawberries! I hope you enjoy!! I got carried away I'm sorry it took so long omg!!

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Soft Leon, Age-gap, Cow-girl, Overstimulation, Hinted PTSD, Soft Dom Leon, Switch Leon, Leon deserves every bit of happiness, Unprotected Sex, Missionary, Words: 5k

DI!Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Fem! reader

The wind blew at your dress as you stared at the fence opposite you, the gaps wide enough to use as a way to hoist yourself up. A curious nature was always a dangerous one your mother would whisper but you just couldn’t help being curious, not when the fruit over the fence looked so much riper than yours. You shouldn’t be greedy and just accept the ones that you have grown. No one was home, at least it looked like that. The window that overlooked the garden always had the curtains drawn shut, the swing chair on the back porch had a thin layer of dust from its lack of use. You had shown at the old fence a few days in a row, the strawberries turning a brighter red each time. Surely they wouldn’t care if you stole a few? The white buds that laid around them signalled a new batch coming in. 

If it wasn’t for your grandparents constant mention of the man that resided here you would have assumed it was abandoned. You always thought it must be lonely living in a farmhouse this big, the green of his own garden stretching just as far as your family’s. Your boots notched on the fence perfectly giving you the stability you needed as you began to climb over. The wind whipped away at your hair, the sun gave you an angelic glow. 

At least that’s what Leon thought as he watched you from his bedroom window, his form hidden in the folds of the curtain. His coffee was as bitter as he could make it steaming in his hands. He wouldn’t confront you, he never has not in the many years he's watched you do this. Not when in a few days you would come back down to the fence with your small basket containing a book and some of those mouth–watering cookies and he got to watch someone live freely without the horrors that haunted him. 

Leon never knew what caused him to grow the fruit. Perhaps it was the craving of something sweet in his seemingly bitter life or maybe it was just to see your curious features every summer to see if the plant had made it through the harshness of winter. Leon’s years of service had dwindled, his aging body no longer fit enough for whatever they wanted him to do. Which allowed him to finally nurture the life he thought he deserved, the simple dream he imagined for himself all those years ago. 

The farmhouse was always a part of this dream of his, the expansive land always seemed like the perfect ending and start to family life. Since he moved in, your grandparents helped him get settled quickly. The older couple were innocent in their teaching to help him learn how to repair everything. Leon offered what labour his body would allow nowadays as a thanks to their warmth. It was then that first summer he saw you. 

This sweet ray of sunshine that ran through the blades of glass like you were in the sound of music. Every colour of dress looked good on you, your hair always pulled in styles that frame your face perfectly. Too bad he respected the kindness of his elder neighbours to do anything about it. Your youthful features told him it was wrong, his darkened ones were too dangerous for yours. His touch would surely taint you, corrupt you. So he settled on his observations. 

It didn’t take much brain power for him to figure out that you were afraid of being caught. Not when you held the berries in the skirt of your dress staring at the kitchen window. If only you were smart enough to look up, then you would see him. He didn’t have the heart to stop you from doing this. Not when it kept that gap in the curtains open allowing the single ray of sunshine to spread out on the floor of his bedroom in his otherwise shadow of a home. 

“Not stealing Leon’s strawberries again are you?” Your grandmother spoke from the kitchen doorway. You had finished preparing them for the cookies, licking the syrup that they created as you sprinkle them with sugar. “Do you think he would mind? I never asked but all the curtains were drawn again” You spoke turning to face her. It felt like home here, like you belonged to help them out during summer. Your boots waiting at the door for the next adventure. You had long since swapped the summer dress you wore earlier to the lounge clothes you would normally wear at home. At least ones your elders would approve of. 

“I don’t even think he eats them himself,” she laughed as she stood next to you. “Perhaps he just grows them for you, he lives alone after all” 

The idea of him doing this made you blush, you weren’t sure why. If it were true the action was kind and it almost made you feel guilty for your actions. You turned your face away from her instead, willing yourself to focus on the cookie dough that you were currently rolling out in small balls and placing them on the baking tray. “I’m sure he doesn’t, we’ve never met and as far as I know he doesn’t know I’m the infamous thief” You awkwardly blubbered out. “I guess he must think it’s a pretty big rabbit then since they steal so many at a time” She laughed, her hands held out towards the bowl, washed and ready to help you with the baking process. 

It was moments like this that you enjoyed, the simplicity of it reminding you of the true home you craved. The bed they provided was always soft and warm, the sheets smelling like the fresh air that would filter in throughout the day. It was an escape for you, the life you always dreamed of but were never sure you could sustain on your own. The six weeks were a countdown of your daydream ending. The stark reminder that reality was close to hitting you in the face and you would have to wait three seasons for your return. It was always bittersweet. Moments like these will always be cherished, especially as you chatted about anything and everything you could whilst the cookies baked. Their smell fills the room. 

“I should thank him one day for growing such great strawberries, I wonder how he does it” You laughed as you took a bite from one of them now they were finished. “He’s home more often than you think, love. I think he would like to see who stealing his strawberries, maybe he’ll give you some tips for yours” 

One day you’ll be brave enough to walk up his driveway instead of over the fence with some of your infamous treats. To put a face to the name that was spoken so commonly in this household. The image of him you formed in your mind was good enough but there was always that lingering curiosity to see if it would match. 

You could see the farmhouse from your bedroom whilst you began already mapping out the spot you’ll sit at tomorrow. The sun setting gives the sky a red glow. It was always your favourite time of day watching the foxes weave through the longer grass, the deer making a fleeting appearance as they ran across the fields. It wasn’t like the city you would have to return to, the sky barely visible amongst the smog of the industries. 

The basket you always took was ready at your bedroom door filled with your latest read and the dress you had picked out hanging neatly above it. A weekly routine for you at this point – it has been since the first week you arrived. You enjoyed the sun on your skin, the smell of the fresh grass as you laid across it. Despite enjoying your time here it often felt lonely, you wished for a sibling or someone to enjoy the outside but no they were far too busy now to continue this tradition. They didn’t care for the open space like you did or how good it felt to be off the grid for a few months.

The dew drops darkened the leather on your boots, the blades of grass leaving small thin lines as you waded through it to that one spot you wanted. However, today felt different, like something had shifted in your routine. Not necessarily something bad, just different. You paused allowing the soft breeze to cool your skin, it was only then that you spotted the normally empty swing chair now occupied. You stood frozen watching the wind swipe at the brunette, his features calm…serene. When he finally met your eyes he smiled, a toothy grin that suited his face. You gave your own shy one back before returning to your previous task. 

You faced away from the direction of the wind, pinching the blanket at the corners as you let the wind straighten it out. Moving the basket to pin the fabric down, all practiced movements. Careful and methodical to ensure your skin never touches the damp grass. Your dress was blush pink today, it suited you. It was one of his favourites, the fabric laying delicately over your skin with small frills at the hemline. You looked like a princess, something that he shouldn’t disturb. He shocked himself today when he sat on the swing, the hinges creaking with his weight. 

Leon bought the swing with the intention of watching his family run around as he sat on it, drinking the bitter coffee he subjected himself to with his partner in his arms. It was what he wanted but it never happened and perhaps it never will. Maybe he was always made to be the fun uncle to his friends' children. His large house entertaining them – that was if he ever invited them over. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to approach the fence today, to finally introduce himself to you. Compared to you he seemed undressed, like some peasant trying to introduce themselves to a princess. 

You didn’t pay attention to the sound of the fence moving, or the shadow that formed over your book as he stood above you. Perhaps you had chosen to sit too close to the fence today. “So you are my strawberry thief I take it?” He chuckled, his voice horse from not talking to anyone in days. He smiled softly when you blushed and looked up before giving a shy nod. Leon watched as you moved to sit on your knees, giving him your full attention. Your eyes drifting upwards slowly until finally meeting his face. His eyes were tired but held the most beautiful colour of blue, his lashes were long and thick as he blinked. The stubble coating his cheeks suited him. “I am” You finally replied. 

Leon’s head dropped slightly as he chuckled at the timidness of your voice, his posture was relaxed as he leant up against the fence; coffee mug still held tightly in his hands. “Do I not get a sample of what my produce gets turned into?”

It was weird to you, with the way your grandparents describe Leon you always assumed he was a lot older than he came across. His form was strong, you see that he had put in effort to get it like that. His job was never mentioned, your grandparents cared little of how he obtained the money to even own the house. Everyone was subjected to their secrets you supposed yet you still craved to learn his. You looked at the scars along his hands as you passed him a cookie; each one holding stories you now felt eager to learn. 

The fence is now a barrier between the two of you, the sun shining down on his hair allowing  the few blond strands he had left glow like natural highlights. The tiredness was evident now you were closer also spying the crows feet that formed as he smiled at you. You found yourself waiting eagerly for his thoughts, maybe if he thought that they tasted good then he wouldn’t get mad at your trespassing for the sweet fruit. Somewhere inside of you now craved for his approval or praise on the taste. 

The low groan he let out once he had taken a bite shouldn’t have affected you the way that it did. Your thighs pressing together slightly to ease some of the tension. “These are so good, your grandparents are right. You are a good baker” He complimented, scoffing the whole thing as if you might take it away from him before he got the chance to finish. You beamed at him, eyes twinkling at the compliment and approval. The sight caused him to pause, to scan over the softer features you held. It was only then he realised how beautiful you actually were. 

How was he allowed to be in the presence of such beauty? He barely deserved this house, let alone to be standing here in front of you. Part of him wished to invite you over the fence, to greet you in the house. Host a dinner with you. Leon knew the state of the house wasn’t acceptable to you, shame filling him with the idea of you even seeing it. Instead he thanked you once more before bidding you a good day and heading inside. Leaving you to your peaceful afternoon. 

However, this time he left the back door open allowing the summer breeze to blow inside along with the sun. 

It wasn’t until a few days later that you saw him again, only this time he was in the living room of your grandparents house. His posture was relaxed as he spoke to them, leaning back slightly in the chair one leg leant over the other. “Oh honey! You’re awake, Leon has left something in the kitchen for you” Your grandmother smiled, a wink following shortly as she turned to look at you. With a nod of your head you turned to walk to the kitchen where a tupperware container of strawberries laid. A post-it note on the top with your name neatly written. 

“Figured you could make a batch of cookies with these ones? I picked them today” Leon said from the doorway. 

You turned to face him, smiling brightly once again. He was leant against the doorframe, his eyes scanning your form. “I’d be happy to, they are the fruits of your labour after all” You replied. Leon chuckled softly, nodding slightly. “I suppose they are” 

“I’d be happy to do it for you though, I can bring them round tomorrow afternoon?” 

It was now his turn to smile brightly before nodding. With that he left you to resume your task, returning to his spot in the chair as your grandparents spoke to him about their plans for harvest season. 

You took greater care in the making of his, each strawberry cut perfectly. The sugar left to marinate slightly longer. It was cute the way you sat in front of the oven, observing them through the slightly browning window. They had to be perfect, Leon didn’t deserve anything less than that. Besides you felt like you owed him this at least. 

You knew the nerves were high today as it took you longer to pick out the dress. Each one felt unworthy to be worn in front of him. A pile of dresses were now left to crease in front of the wardrobe as you worked your way through them until you found the one. The milkmaid dress was a rare one for you, not yet worn this summer despite the way it clung to your curves as you tightened the back. The front extenuating your breasts perfectly whilst keeping some modesty. You allowed your hair to fall naturally today, small wisps of it framing your face after all it wasn’t too windy. You weren’t sure what compelled you to look good today, the outfit was nothing unusual. The worn brown boots still found their way on your feet, the heels clicking slightly on the drive as you began your journey to his front door. Your basket clutched tightly in your hand as if it was some precious cargo.  

Leon waited at the kitchen window, waiting to spy you sauntering down the hill again. It made him jump when you knocked on the door, it wasn't your fault you did it slightly too loud for him. The bangs echoing around the empty house. His brain short circuited for a moment as he tried to calm his heart rate down. Breathing in and out with one hand clutched to his chest the other gripping the counter. When he eventually did open the door he spied you rocking on the balls of your feet. The dress swaying with your movements. You gave him another one of your infamous bright smiles; your hands holding out the basket of goodies to him. “Special delivery?” You joked. 

Fuck, you were so cute. Your cheeks darkened in colour as he stepped aside to allow you to enter. For the first time in months the curtains were all open. The sunlight bouncing around the space eliminates the darkness in every corner. His shelves were filled with trinkets and medals, his couch a rustic brown leather one with seats so plush you knew you could curl up in them. It was basic, something you assumed a man of his age to decorate like.

The kitchen is filled with the basics, enough for someone living on their own to get by. He set the basket on the kitchen island, a mug of tea already brewed waiting for you. The mug was cute, decorated with small flowers. It was clearly a gift from someone, his cup didn’t match. Instead adorned the words ‘NO.1 Uncle’. “I’m excited” He chuckled, unwrapping the basket to get out the tupperware container. A pink post-it note on the top with his name in cursive writing. “Nice touch”

You watched as he took a bite of one, the crumbs catching in the stubble and in his cupped hand he moved in a poor attempt to catch them. He let out that same low groan as the other day, his eyes shutting slightly as if the action made him savour the taste further. It looked like you had touched the front of his jeans, your cheeks heated up with the imagery. Instead, willing your mind to focus on the warmth of the mug you cradled. “Somehow they are even better than I remembered” He chuckled, already reaching for another. 

Your cheeks flushed at the compliment smiling against the rim of the mug as you brought it to your lips. “Seriously, did you do anything different?” He asked, prompting you to finally speak. Hoping that you would eventually relax into the chair, perhaps next summer you would grace him with your presence more. He was in dire need of company after all and somehow he felt like you needed the same thing. 

“I only added some more sugar, perhaps you just need a sweeter pallet” You teased, before taking a bite of your own cookie. Sugar dusted your lips, the juice of the berries giving them a slight shine like a natural gloss. You watched as his tongue swiped over his lower lip, his eyes boring into yours. He was watching for something you weren’t quite sure of. You watched as his hands flexed around his mug, relaxing and then contracting again. His eyes suddenly dazed over before they met you once more. “Are you okay?” 

It had been years since someone had asked him that, it had been years since he isolated himself to these simpler days. He was sure most of his friends would have thought he must have died, his phone left uncharged and on the coffee table. The only thing he didn’t dust for your arrival. He craved your touch, to taste the sugar that still lingered on your lips. It was wrong of him to have these desires but it felt right in his soul. It felt like a reward was finally being granted to him in the form of your soft fingers over his scarred hands. 

Leon didn’t deserve you. Not your attention, not these cookies, the kindness you offered as you directed his head back to you. It was then you saw the man your grandparents cared for, the lonely broken one that slipped through small cracks. That only wanted to help and protect people. To be useful to someone in a way that didn’t involve violence or blood. That was why he grew the strawberries every year, to see you smile as they greeted you in a bright red. He knew it made you happy. 

Maybe that was why you leaned forwards. Your hand cupping his cheek, the stubble that coated it pricking into your skin as you kissed him. You felt the tension fade when your lips met, the sugar and crumbs that coated your lips adding to the texture. His tongue swiping, prodding for access to taste you further. His hands found your arms, tugging you closer without yanking you out of the chair. Your hair tickled the corners of his face as his fingers weaved through the strands. You tasted like his dream, like his future he wanted. You were sweet, so sweet. Brightening his pallet from the bitterness he subjected himself to. 

Your foreheads met when you pulled away, the sun shining brightly causing you both to close your eyes. “We don’t have to– I’m sorry…” He mumbled before you cut him off with a peck. His eyes meeting yours again, this time vulnerability laced them. Longing for a connection. “I want to” 

“You can’t…not me. You don’t deserve my mess” 

His words didn’t make sense to you, perhaps you should have waited longer before you got off the stool giving you both a chance to get to know each other better. You didn’t though, instead you found yourself now standing between his legs to look at him, the pain that lingered in his soul now visible to you. “I make a mess when I bake and get something delicious out of it.” 

It took him a moment to process what you meant, his eyes scanning you again before finally nodding. His frame towered yours as he dragged you further into the house. The stairs creaking under your weight. The tour was brief, informal as he dragged you to his room. Part of him wanted to guide you to the guest room instead, the sheets in there weren’t tainted with the sweat of his nightmares. It was like you knew which one his room was, the curtains still drawn except for that small gap. 

He was gentle when he brought you to the edge of the bed, his lips trapping yours into a needy kiss. You felt his hands run up your sides until they reached your shoulders where he began to pull away at the straps of your dress. He broke the kiss to savour the taste there, sucking softly at the nape of your neck. Inhaling your fresh scent, the sweet vanilla suited you. Your own hands teased the hem of his shirt, silently waiting for his approval to remove it. Part of him wanted to shake his head, to keep the red lines that decorated his skin away from your innocent eyes but for this work. To get what he needed, you had to see. 

“They’re ugly I know” 

You hadn’t expected him to be insecure, to hate the stories you were fascinated to learn since you saw them upon his hands. His breath faltered as you shook your head before leaning in to kiss each one, it didn’t matter if they were faded. “Not to me” 

Not to you? 

He found comfort in that as he cupped your face, directing your attention back to him. His blue eyes boring into yours. “You are so sweet, it’s cute how fitting it is” 

Leon began to unlace the dress, watching as the fabric loosened around your body until it fell on the floor at your feet, leaving you in just your underwear. Your fingers worked on the belt, the clash of the metal on the floor made him flinch slightly. He didn’t have time to calm his brain, to count down in his head like before; not when your fingers moved along the outline of his growing bulge. Feeling his cock thicken beneath his boxers. You smiled at the low groan he let out again, “I love that sound” 

He pushed you against the bed, watching as you laid back. Your legs spread eagerly for him showing off the darkened colour of your underwear. “So wet already? I bet the taste is better than any of your cookies and sweeter than any fruit I could grow for you” Leon spoke as he crawled up the bed. His arms rested either side of your head as he hovered above you, hiding you in his shadow. You smiled at him, shaking your head slightly before pushing him to lay on his back. He needed to relax, to get the attention he’s carved for so many years. A chance to escape the shadow he claimed to bring. 

As the afternoon changed to evening the breeze picked up, blowing the drawn fabric of his curtain open. The sun flickering over your body as you straddled him. “You deserve to be happy Leon, everyone does” You whispered in the shell of his ear. Your teeth grazed his lobe before kissing against his pulse point, moving the pressure down until you reached his collarbone. You watched as your marks blossomed along his skin. Each line of raised scar being covered by you and your claim. “You deserve this after your years of service – you earned those medals on your shelf” 

Each praise caused him to groan softly, his hips lifting to meet yours. You looked between the two of you, smiling at the darkened spot on his underwear. “Please” 

His beg was simple, one word but his voice cracked holding emotions you weren’t sure you could comprehend yet. You would grant him this moment of escape, of pleasure he was worthy of taking. You moaned at the sight of his cock as you finally freed him. The tip glistened with the steady stream of pre-cum he was producing. You smirked at his whimper as you ran your finger over his head gathering it before bringing your finger to your lips. Sucking softly on the taste of him. Leon’s cock jumped at the sight, the needy cock begging for your attention once more. You removed your underwear, the fabric discarded in the pile of clothes at the bottom of the bed. Leon had done the same, his thighs clenching underneath as he prepared for your warmth to encase him. 

For the connection he’s craved for so long. 

He moaned as you sunk onto his length, your walls already fluttering beautifully around him. His hands landed on your hips gripping at the flesh softly only tightening when you began to move. You felt like heaven, the sun giving you that same angelic glow he watched from his window. Your breasts bounced with your movements, your nipples hardening begging for his lips or fingers. Who was he to deny them? 

You cupped the back of his head as he captured one of them, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud as his fingers tweaked the other one. You felt each exhale he made, the air escaping over the soft mound. His name sounded like music as it left your lips in breathy moans. You deserved to be worshiped like this, like the goddess the sun painted you out to be. His house was bright again, the corners rid of any lingering cobwebs. The porch swing was used again, his skin actually felt the warmth of summer in his own leisure and not yard work. 

He felt you clench, your rhythm faltering as your core tightened with need. Your clit throbbed against his happy trail. Your thighs tighten around his hips. He smiled as you threw your head back, your nails digging crescent marks in his shoulders, scraping new lines over the old ones. “Come on sweetie, cum for me please” he begged, helping you move at the speed you needed. You felt his cock twitch inside, stroking that spongy spot. 

He begged for your release once more before it flooded through you. Your head falling to his shoulder as your chest heaved. Leon moved you both, pinning you against the sheets with his own set of needy thrusts. The pleasure tightened his balls as his release grew closer.  “So perfect” He whispered against your skin, claiming you with his set of marks. Nipping at the soft skin of your breasts. You whimpered at the overstimulation, the sound falling effortlessly off your lips as he brought you to another orgasm. He groaned deeply as you milked him, sucked him closer inside. Your legs trapped him, holding him in place as you pressed into the swell of his ass. 

Your eyes twinkled brightly as you met him again, nothing but acceptance and pleasure lingering in them. A silent devotion to love him. He groaned once more before he spilled himself inside of you. His chest heaving breaths that met your own. Neither of you moved, trapped in this moment as his warmth spread inside you. His world was smaller, reduced to that smile you gave him. Nothing else mattered, nothing else would matter, not when he had this. Something to hold, to worship, to service. A purpose again. 

The kiss was gentle as he pressed his lips against yours, the swing creaked with your combined weight as you laid in his arms. You smiled against his lips relishing in the sweet taste that lingered on them after you had both settled eating fresh strawberries. With the red streaks in the sky now finally being able to watch your favourite time of day in the warmth of his embrace instead of the coldness of your room alone. 

[natsredbra]

A fractured line II

summary: All we did was kiss, on my grave I swear.

pairing: Natalie Scatorccio x fem!reader

warnings: smut in the beginning, mentions of SA (Travis and doomcoming), shrooms, knives, fighting, mentions of hetero sex (yes thats a warning), angsttttttt, our girl reader is dealing with situationship demons, ambiguous ending

a/n: fucking finally!! im so sorry if this disappoints any of you, i literally got the idea when i listened to a song. i do like this one better but unfortunately i needed some angst on this page its literally all porn, also not proofread we die like jackie

word count: 5k

taglist: @theprismyyy @priyajoyy @bbbexee

part 1

Natalie’s lips were cold against yours, but it didn’t stop you from capturing them feverishly. And as cliche as it sounds, you really haven’t felt this way before. You could tell yourself it was the shrooms, but that simply wasn’t the case.

She was the first to pull away. It might’ve felt like torture but you did need to breathe.

She also had no right looking this beautiful. To look at you, while being this beautiful.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ You started, but were soon cut off by her own lips this time.

She kissed you like you were all she’s been looking for her entire life, cupping your face and straddling you on the cold ground. Your fingers tangled in your hair as you let her lips explore you.

They traveled down to your jaw, your neck and collarbone which was showing right above the neckline of your dress.

It all felt like you were in slow motion, maybe she felt it too. Coming back up to your lips, she pressed a searing kiss against them.

“I want you so bad.” Natalie whispered, sending a wave of heat between your thighs.

“Please let me have you.” She said with a burgeoning excitement. How could you ever say no to that? To her?

The small nod you gave was more than enough for her to continue, slowly dragging the straps of your dress down. Her slender fingers burned against your skin as they mapped it out, relishing the warm feeling of you. Her lips also continued their path in sync with her hands, growing needier by the minute.

You were hyper aware of it all - her body pressed against yours, it was as if your entire being mingled with hers.

Moving her hips down just slightly, she straddled just one of your thighs insted, tailing a hand up your leg until she reached the already ridden up hem.

“Can I?” Natalie asked almost shyly, one tone you’d yet to hear from her.

“Please.” You coaxed out, her hand pushing your panties to the side before you could even finish.

Once her skin made contact with your bare core you were done for. Resting her forehead against yours, letting her plump lips brush against your cheek in a soft reassurance before nudging your hole with her middle finger.

Once she does push it inside you, she acts as if she can feel it too. Her hips jerked against your body, digit moving simultaneously. Her movements were a bit unsure, but she soon found a spot that made you writhe in pleasure. Adding another finger, she circled your clit too, sending shockwaves down your spine.

You’d never been touched this way before. Never felt like someone wanted to touch you simply to make you feel good, and not get something in return. In this moment, it was as if her sole purpose was to please you, and rest assured herself, grinding down on the ridge of your thigh.

Not trusting your hands anymore, you propped yourself up on one elbow, the other arm sneaking around Natalie’s neck. She embraced it right away, placing a soft hand where your shoulders meet, as if grounding you.

“Does that feel good?” She whispered against your lips, nudging your nose with her own.

“Feels amazing, Nat.” You answered, pure desire laced in your tone. Seems to urge her on too, as her movements against you get noticably frenzied, chasing her climax along with you. Brushing your lips against hers, the two of you came soon enough, swallowing each other’s moans and whimpers. It was in this moment that you felt truly content, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

Plopping back down onto the dirt, Nat collapsed atop of you, nuzzling her head into your chest.

“That was - amazing. You’re really amazing.” The girl slurred out.

“You’re really shitfaced!” You retorted with a laugh, the breeze making your damp thighs feel slightly cold

“No but you are! You’ve got those eyes and - and the hair and boobs.” She listed, holding up her fingers and counting on them.

The whole exchange made you throw a cackling fit, your arms tightening around her. This is what people meant when they called sex intimate, then. The intimacy may not only exist in the act itself, though it certainly was there - but also before and after. In fact, the buildup and post orgasm bliss may have actually been better.

Natalie felt that way too. She had her fair share of fucking, but never making love. It was different, even though she always argued it wouldn’t be, and you both felt it.

Right now, she just let herself listen to your heartbeat, no pressure, no worries or chaos, just for tonight—

“Help!”

You two heard in the distance. Immediately jolting upwards, you exchanged a skeptical glance. But your moms didn’t raise pussies.

Nat and you soon got up, running towards the sound that overtime became more pronounced.

Approaching it more, you could finally identify Jackie’s voice screaming, coming from the cabin.

“That good, huh?” You joked as the two of you bolted inside.

Grasping the handle, Natalie unlocked the door that the girl was trapped behind.

There she was, staring at you with wide, guilty eyes. Normally, you would’ve blinded her for messing with what’s yours. But could you even do that? Especially when you did the exact same thing? Shitfaced philosophy was really working as Jackie gawked between Nat and you, with an admittedly shameful look. Of course you weren’t sure, but from what you heard you presumed this was, in fact, her first time.

But apparently she was in some kind of hurry. it was funny what these mere mushrooms could do. The interaction was quite ephemeral, yet to you it seemed as the longest awkward moment you’d had to face, ever.

“Are you okay?” Nat asked, tuning to look at you

“I’m free! Natalie I’m a free being! And so is Jackie…” You started, both of you presuming her hurried state was a symptom of the high.

“Yes you are honey.” Nat said, stifling a laugh.

“Dude I’m a whole person!

“Yeah, you are a whole.” She replied with a stupid lovesick smile on her face

“I’m a hole!” You giggled along with her about your wrong interpretation of her words.

“We should see where she was headed, yeah?” Nat said, and you reluctantly did follow

Catching up to the aforementioned girl was quite easy, seeing as Natalie and you were fast, and on a nice amount of the forest-provided ecstasy. With asking Jackie questions came cryptic answers, however your light and playful demeanor lessened more and more with her serious one.

It went dead as soon as you heard sketchy sounds in the distance. They became as obvious as ever as you approached them, and getting to a clearing you saw something you thought you were tripping abo- oh, it’s real!

Your very ex was tied to some kind of fucking altar? With Lottie right next to him? And Shauna’s knife to his throat?

God help your delirium, Jackie and Natalie rushed over and helped him right away. You felt like a coward, only being able to watch in horror and shock. But then again, it wasn’t everyday that you see a boy strapped down to- whatever that is and covered in numerous lipstick marks, that were not in fact Jackie’s.

She did take the liberty of taking him back, Nat being the one to handle you. She took your clammy hand onto hers and lead you back to the lake for some peace and quiet, which you immensely needed.

"So that was something, huh?" Nat broke the silence, sitting beside you.

"If that's what you wanna call it." You deadpanned, your high wearing off.

"You did good. Back there. You did your best." Natalie spoke lowly, trying to make you feel better. She always did that, not just to you, to everyone. She wasn't as cheerful about it as say Jackie, but she did her best, and it almost always hit the spot. Not quite this time though.

"There was so much more I could've done." You whispered back, not turning your head to look at her. Still, you could feel her own eyes burning holes to the side of your face.

"Hey, don't do that! You were terrified, dude."

"And you weren't?" You questioned, a bit agitated. Not at her, at yourself.

The question was followed by a long silence, both of you gazing towards the woods and the water. The majestic moonlight illuminated the place, making the lake's contents sparkle before you.

Maybe, just maybe, if you were on a field trip with your friends from back home, sneaking in booze and huddling up to him her on the drive home, you’d think this place was beautiful.

"Everyone was so scared of you," She scoffed "I never was. I mean you were a girl, just like the rest of us. Trying to get through all that shit - high school, family, whatever...I get that." Nat said, making you smile a little

"That night, when Travis broke up with me, you said that were were two sides of the same coin. I wasn't sure what you meant until tonight." You replied

Yeah, now you knew exactly what she meant. Both of you were just young, putting out a tough exterior - one that everyone recognized you by - simply to protect yourselves. Maybe the reason you avoided Natalie wasn't because of how different you are, but how similar she actually was to you. Maybe you didn't wanna accept that.

"I don't regret what happened tonight, by the way." She said, sounding almost afraid to voice it.

"Me either." You whispered, finally locking your eyes onto hers.

It was as if she didn't have the physical strength to hold back, leaning in to kiss you seconds after you looked at her. Moving a bit closer, her touch got increasingly more hungry.

Oh well, a second round can't hurt.

------------------------------------------------

The early morning light distributed through the forest, slowly awaking you from your slumber. Raising your head, you couldn't ignore the dull ache in your neck - likely from sleeping on the ground. A few feet away from you, you could see your reflection in the shore of the infamous lake. Your hair was quite messy as you tried to shake all of the sand out of it - or at least most. The dress you wore was draped lazily over your hip, your almost bare body covered in dirt.

That's when it hit you, everything that happened last night. And I mean, everything, in detail.

"You’re awake." A soft, familiar voice that belonged to Natalie called out

"Unfortunately." You muttered, rubbing your face with your hands. Sure, you did have a thing for the dramatics, but this time you kind of meant it.

Natalie snorted before responding, "I got you some clothes." She said, and only then you noticed she was already changed.

"I'll rinse off first." You answered, standing up and leveling with her before walking over to the water.

You took careful steps, dipping your toes inside though it was quite frigid. Nat moved over closer to you, stripping bare of her pants.

"Just jump in." She said teasingly as you gave her a faux eyeroll. Though to her surprise, you did just dive right in, keeping your head under for a few seconds until some dirt was out of your ear.

The blonde sat at the shore, her legs intertwining with the water as she drew up her sleeves and leaned back on her hands. Swiftly swimming over you laid your wet head of hair on top of her thigh, looking up at her through your eyelashes.

"That was a shit show." She spoke up, breaking the silence

"Not all of it!" You called out, playfully smacking her arm with the back of your hand, earning a soft giggle from her.

"No, not all of it. I did like some parts." She said with a smirk

You just snorted, gazing up at her.

"You know, when all this is over and we get back home, I'm taking you out on a proper cheesy date." Nat stated, leaving zero room for argument.

"I'd love that." You replied, nuzzling your face into her.

"You know that really cliche moment in the movies when the lead finally realizes they're into someone and wants to - take care of them, or whatever?" The girl spoke up above you

"Yeah?"

"I feel like this might be it for me." She said, followed by a short silence

"I like how you make me feel so much lighter. Like I'm carrying a bunch of weight on my shoulders and you just take it away." You said quietly.

She didn't need to respond for you to know how much those words meant to her, or how she's felt it with you herself.

All the exhaustion was finally getting to you, as well as the hangover. You groaned in pain softly, and she took the hint, running the pads of her fingers through your hair.

"Maybe you should check in with him." She said. God why did she have to be so kind and well meaning? This was a conversation you were not looking forward to in the slightest, and it made you groan quite a bit louder.

"What if we just stayed here all day? We can be lazy and make out!" You proposed, climbing back up to straddle her thighs, your arms encircling her neck, wetting the fabric of her shirt.

"Yeah, for a little. But at some point we need to go back, there's so much shit to do." Nat responded, giving you a tender look.

"Dude why? They were the ones that went fucking insane!"

"Maybe so, but still. They'll be on our asses if we don't." She spoke with a bit of annoyance.

Surely though, you could not forget the makeout session that was meant to take place. Leaning in, you pressed your cold lips onto hers, making her hand fly and ball in your hair, pulling you in closer. It sure would be an eventful morning.

Finally being done with your...seemingly favorite stress relief method, you both did get dry and dressed, dreading what was to come. With a deep breath, Nat's warm hand found yours, taking it as she led you back to camp.

At this moment, you were hyperaware of all your surroundings. Her skin on yours, as your own clung to your clothes, your damp locks wetting the area of your neck. The quiet hum of the wind traveling through the dainty leaves, making the inevitable silence that much more bareable.

“It’s gonna be fine. They’re the ones that should feel shitty.” She just always knew exactly what to say.

You gave her a reassuring smile - that was mostly meant for yourself, and turned the corner, walking up to the cabin.

See, you expected many things. You expected a dirty look, maybe a concerned or a guilty one. Maybe you expected to be teased for the very obvious post-hookup flush in your face. You expected Nat to be made fun of for all the marks coating her neck. What you didn’t expect was to see the entire group in both awe and terror, gathered all together.

All together, around the one and only Lottie, pulling a knife out of a bear’s neck. So in the grand scheme of things, no one even noticed you walk up.

Natalie instinctivly pulled you closer, remembering your fairly negative feelings towards certain things, such as guts and gore.

“Oh - now you come back? We’ve been looking for you all morning!” Taissa called out to you two once she spotted you.

“Is that seriously what’s on your mind right now?” You asked in slight disbelief.

“Yes! We had no fucking idea where the gun was!” An agitated Mari yelled.

“It’s by the door.” Natalie said with a bit of a mocking tone, making you snort once you saw the other girl’s dumbfounded expression.

“Okay, who cares? The bear is dead, no one’s hurt and we have food!” Akilah stated.

“Absolutley. No point in talking about it now.” Coach said in what you presumed to be a bored tone. Not like you could blame him.

“Just drag it to the back, we’ll cut it up later.” Shauna muttered as a couple girls took the liberty to do so.

“I’ll go take a walk, I need to clear my head.” You told Nat, giving her hand a soft squeeze

“Take your time. I’ll be around.” She responded, scanning the place a little before giving the corner of your mouth a bit of a sarcastic, fast kiss, which earned her a small eyeroll.

Walking out to the back, barely twenty feet away, you ran into the very person responsible for your inner turmoil this sunny morning. Before turning and running away, Natalie’s voice rang in your head. And for fucks sake, you wanted her to think highly of you, even for something benign as this.

“Travis? You okay?” You incquired with a gentle approach. Or at least, as gentle as possible.

“I’m fine.” He responded hastly, though his current demeanor said otherwise.

“Need help with that?” You tried yet again, pointing to the cold, wet rag he rubbed against the bruised skin of his neck.

“No.”

Despite his refusal, with a sigh you slowly reached for it anyhow. The boy had a skeptical look on his face before letting go and fall into your own hand.

In a soft motion you soothed the sensitive area, making him slightly wince.

“So…Jackie?” You asked tenatatively

“Excuse me? Natalie?!” He shot back, raising his eyebrows up to his forehead.

Your own followed suit as you raised your eyes, looking into his. As soon as they locked on them the both of you broke into a small laughing fit as you still worked on him.

“Guess we finally got laid huh?” He spoke again.

“Hey! That was not my fault, you were the one who couldn’t get it up.” You retorted, though your words had no real heat to them.

“I was…nervous.” Travis replied, a faint red hue on his cheeks.

“You couldn’t tell me that before I shoved your flacid dick in my mouth?” You questioned in a mock flat tone, finally letting the rag drop back to the makeshift table.

The boy chuckled again, brushing his hair back with his fingers.

“I’ll uh- I’ll go look for Javi.” He declared, rubbing his eyes quite agressively.

“What? He’s not here?” You proclaimed, crossing your arms over your chest as your brows knitted together.

“No he- I guess he ran away last night?” Travis said, and you could sense his anguish though he tried to hide it.

“Should I come with you or-“

“It’s fine. I need to clear my head anyway. It was nice talking to you though.” He conveyed with a tight-lipped smile before rushing away, leaving you a bit dumbfounded.

And honestly yes, it was nice talking to him. You could only go so long before going insane with all the awkward tension, neither of you needed that out there. Who knows, he might actually be your friend while you battled with your raging bicuriousity.

It was a nice day, though a colder one. Walking through the quiet woods, many things were on your mind. First and foremost, you thought all about how tough it'll be once winter gets here, and it was right around the corner.

Then you realized just how fucking thirsty you are, seeing as the last thing you drank was the so called berry wine the night before. Your finally dry hair moved in rhythm with the wind that unapologetically ruffled it as it went, making you a tad dizzy too. The sleep depravation didn't help either - if it was a possibility you'd do multiple questionable things for a Tylenol and some coffee, or at least tea that doesn't taste like piss.

"What are you doing out here?" A skeptical, slightly frightened Jackie called out, you hadn't even noticed her.

“I don’t know? Walking around…you?” You inquired, taking a seat next to her, letting your back rest against one of the trees.

“Same, I guess. Look, about last night-“ She started before you cut her off.

“No, it’s fine, really…It’s not like we were still together or anything. “ You replied, waving a hand in dismissal.

“Really?” The girl asked in obvious disbelief.

“Really. I mean we’ve got enough shit to worry about, relationship drama isn’t it.” You said in a flat tone, eyes scanning her face.

“Yeah, fair…but I don’t think you really need to worry about a relationship anyway.” Jackie said in a teasing done dripping with implication.

“What?”

“I just meant with Nat and everything-“ She sputtered, until realizing you were less then amused.

“Is there a problem with that?” You barked, the question coming out rougher then you intended.

“No! No, I’m just saying, she’s pretty much smitten. And it figures you wouldn’t be mad at me if you were this good with her.” Jackie said matter-of-factly, making a shiver run down your spine.

“Well why wouldn’t we be good?” You asked, mockingly accentuating the word.

“I just thought because- y’know, her and Travis?” She asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wha- what about Travis and her?” You questioned, sitting up straighter

“Oh, you didn’t know?”

No, no you didn’t fucking know.

“They hooked up or something. Uh- Van saw them, when they were supposed to be out hunting. I thought she told you that” Jackie quivered, trying to gauge your reaction.

“Right…when’d this happen?” You asked breathlessly. Truly, it felt like there was no air left in the world.

“A couple days ago.” She replied, unsure.

Hearing that made made your eyes burn with unshed tears and your throat close up. You never felt quite this way before, and you absolutley despised it. Your mind ran with all the possible images and scenarios involuntarily, making your head spin. At this point you were spiraling, entirely in war with yourself. How could you ever let her get this close? Better yet, how the fuck did the only person you were actually into betray you this way?

Here she was, making you matching head pieces and dancing with you oh so intimately at that party - and what? To get in your pants? To use you, just like she’d been used. Do hurt people hurt people?

“Are you okay?” Jackie asked, careful of her tone and expression.

“I’m fine. Whatever, she’d have sex with anyone who gave her the attention her father didn’t” You hissed, leaving Jackie speechles with her jaw hitting the floor.

And god, as much as she hurt you, you felt rueful as soon as the words left your mouth. Usually, you’d never regret saying something like that about a person who dared cross you, but she was different. Just so fucking different, it scared you to no end. She had an inexplainable effect on you.

“I need to go.” You said, hurrying off before the girl could respond.

Your feet carried you as your mind ran. Without realizing it, you’d walked back to the cabin, not even bothering to stop the hot tears from spilling over your eyes. Only when you reached the back of the place, where you left Travis a little over an hour ago, you realized where you were.

The thing is though, you most definitely didn’t feel like socializing with anyone at this point, so you attempted to make your way back towards the deeper woods - or even the ever famous lake.

However unfortunately for you, luck wasn’t on your side. Just as you turned around to walk back, you faced a familiar person, and the very cause of these complicated emotions.

“Y/N, hey, I was looking for you-“ Natalie approached, walking closer.

“Are you crying?” She asked, already moving to embrace you softly, a slight look of hurt and confusion gracing her face when you pushed her away.

You didn’t need trust yourself to speak as you wiped your eyes, taking a deep breath to ground yourself.

Only then, she realized what this was about.

“Y/N” She whispered, sounding somewhat desperate 

“How could you do that?” You shot back as the water dried on your face.

“We only kissed I-“

“You knew about everything that went down!” You yelled out, not paying much mind to her words

“We only kissed.” She tried again, this time sounding more assertive. Still as desperate. 

“What kind of a fucking excuse is that?!”

“I- please, you have to listen to me, it was a dumb mistake!” Natalie continued, her own eyes watering up

“Natalie I was miserable when we broke up, you saw it! Gosh, you- you’re fucking unbelievable. I just - I thought we were friends! And anyway, I’d never expect you to do that!” You drawled out, your voice shaky. 

“You can’t deny that you and I are so much more then friends.” Nat sobbed, locking your teary eyes with her own.

“That’s what I thought last night too.” You mumbled. 

“No, I promise - it’s still there! I still feel it. Christ, I love you! I fell in love with you in a matter of weeks! Do you even realize the effect that you have on me?! That you always had on me?” She bawled, at this point yelling for the whole world to hear. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was your forgiveness. 

“Oh God, Natalie you don’t love me, you don’t even know me!” You hissed.

“What the fuck? I’ve known you for years! Look, I know that you hate when guys tell you what to wear, I know that the coffee you drink is practically milk and you throw half of it away before every practice, I know you like having red nails. But the darker ones, you once said you felt cheap if they were neon or whatever. I also know what kind of music you listen to because you annoyingly always insisted to play it. And I can bet you know little things like that about me too but the thing is, I’ve grown to fucking love every single one of them this past month. And I am so fucking sorry about what I did.” Natalie explained. She sounded truly miserable, letting her own tears fall freely.

And you were stunned to hear it. At this point, there was so much emotion plastered across her face, you even debated believing her. But the truth is, you weren’t even sure you believed they didn’t hook up, so how could you believe anything else she said? Then again - why would she try so hard to convince you otherwise if she didn’t at least care?

Still, thinking about it made your insides churn and all you knew is that you couldn’t be around her. Your pride may have had a large impact on all of it too. Softly shaking your head, you walked away, not sparing her another glance. If you did, you’d stay back, and you couldn’t afford that right now. 

All the betrayal, anger, sadness and frustration mixed inside your head into a dangerous cocktail. Retrieving the cheap, half drunken whiskey bottle you disappeared into the woods, settling down on the clearing that brought back many memories from the prior night.

You chugged it down like your life depended on it, though it did little to to ease your anguish. And anyway, the burn in your throat was a momentary distraction.

In the grand scheme of things, this seemed awfully unimportant. So what if you feel like you've known this girl in your last life? So what if she was the only person to properly watch out for you? So what if all your walls crumbled down as soon as she sent something as little as a soft smile your way? So what if you fell in fucking love in five weeks, right? It's not like you could lose something you never actually had. Right now, she's both the closest and the farthest she'd ever been from you. To you. This girl managed to reinvent you, only to kick you back down this way.

You cursed the day you let yourself be yourself in front of her, The day she was born a little, too. There were simply so many things you wanted to do and say, yet you found yourself unable to move a muscle. At this point, you weren't even sure whether you were being dramatic or not. You just knew you wanted this feeling to end

Little did you know, back at the cabin Natalie was crashing out. She was going around, poking and asking who the fuck had the nerve do say this to you. Deep down, she knew she was in the wrong - and that there was no taking back what happened. She knew that the trust you reluctantly put in her was long gone, and it was as if she grieved it.

Yet to this day, the only thing Nat wanted was to feel closer to you. To understand and and be there for you. She was so convinced that there wasn't a universe in which you would want her the same way she wanted you, and all the disdain got in and over her head, making her do something she knew she'd regret.

Out of spite, she kissed him. Out of spite, she hurt you. Out of spite, she ruined it. Because that it what she does, under it all, there is a divine, kind person, sadly covered up by a thick layer acting as rough protection.

The only thing she was now sure of was how much she would try to make it up to you. Natalie would do anything if it granted her the feeling of her lips pressing yours, just once more.

[mochamadeleines]

Sweethearts and Sweet Dreams <3

“Nothin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats behind your back then?”

You sway in place, trying to suppress a knowing smile. “I dont have anything behind my back.” (6.4k words)

tags!! - 18+ modern au! Husband! Joel Miller, Wife! Reader, you guys are happy and in love!, mutual obsession if u squint, lots of exposition im so freaking sorry, pervert Joel if u squint, praise kink joel if you squint, dumbification if you squint, written for those with daddy issues lowkeeyyyyy, written with game joel in mind but could be hbo joel no problem!, lowk i combined the two in my mind, mentions of shy old man joel, housewife! reader (by choice), unspecified age gap but reader is like. thirty? and joels Like...55??, talk about joel taking medication for his anxiety, p in v sex, dirty talk, public sex, outdoor sex, joel has a kink for dresses because i said so? service top joel if you squint, pet names, a pinch of jealousy and possessiveness for fun, playful banter, mentions of maria and tommy and their baby with a made up name Lol, mentions of ellie and sarah (rip), mentions of readers past abusive relationships, talk about joel struggling with substance abuse/addiction and being hospitalized.....Im sure u can theorize why </3, lots of lore ill get into in another fic MAYBE *smirks*, flip flop in perspective, sometimes showing what joel is thinking or what reader is thinking blah blah

authors notes!! - hi there!!! im mocha and this is my first joel fic ever + my first fic posted to tumblr!! im really nervous cuz i havent written anything in months and ive never written joel before so please let me know if you like it!! id love to write more of this au for u guys if theres a demand for it...Thank u for reading!! also barely proof read im ngl. ive been staring at this fic all day im sick of itttt. p.s i dont usually write smut i also kinda do idfk Is this bad or am i tweaking

You step out of the house, morning sun soaking into the roots of your hair and the driveway beneath your feet. Theres a package youve been waiting for. 

You cant contain your grin as you wiggle it out of the hot prison that is your mailbox.

“What the hell are you doin’ out there barefoot?” Joel chastises you from the front door, leaning his elbow on the frame. Joel, your lovely husband of two years. Been together for five. And because of how hard he works, you have the privilege of being a stay at home wife. Some people think that sort of life is stifling, but youve never felt so free. No more jobs you hate, no more financial struggles. Just you, Joel, and your cat, Cement. He likes to pretend it isnt a totally hilarious name for a pet.

You were his first relationship in almost a decade, so it was a lot of work helping him unpack his anxieties about dating, and a lot of work for you to feel safe and unafraid. Honestly? Youve been mistreated by enough men to land you in the psychward.

But Joel never yells at you, he never breaks things when hes angry or threatens to hurt you. He might raise his voice every now and again, but its never because of something you did. Sometimes the stress of life is just too much. 

He works hard, he loves his daughter- daughters- and he would do anything to keep you happy. Whatever you say goes, he says. Even now, you hardly argue. Of course you have disagreements, or off days thatd lead to one of you being especially moody, but the both of you do your best to communicate.

Behind that rough exterior, is someone who just wants to be needed. 

You first met Joel at a youth center you volunteered at, he taught guitar, you taught arts and crafts. Joel says it was your smile and sense of humor that charmed him. It was his singing and southern accent for you.

Your favorite thing about Joel is how soft he gets around you. He says its because you make it easy to be soft. 

Joel was a shy lover at first. He would get nervous just kissing you, or holding your hand. While most people become intimate very early on in their relationship, you and Joel didnt do anything sexual for the first five months of you dated. Sure, you almost did, plenty of times, but he would get so overwhelmed and cut things short. You broke two of your vibrators during this era of your relationship. Embarassing.

You remember your first time very vividly. Joel had worked back to back doubles trying to meet a deadline, and on the final day, after having barely spoken to you for almost a week, you had shown up to his house, unannounced. You were wringing water out of your jacket when he swung the door open. 

“How-” Joel blinks a few times, stepping forward to examine the rainfall. “How long you been out here?”

“Not that long,” You lie and pick up the container you brought off the porch chair. Part of you had a hard time mustering up the courage to even knock on the door. Droplets of water cascade down your chin. “Hi, sorry. I know youre tired.”

He shakes his head, voice soft and warm. “S’fine. Now c’mon, youre gonna get sick.”

Youre seated at the little dining table next to the kitchen now, trying to let the sound of the rainfall ease your nerves.

Joel was quick to grab you a towel, and does the honors of drying your face and hair with it. “Why didnt you jus’ call me? Woulda gotten out of the shower faster if i knew you were gettin’ soaked out there like this.”

“I dunno, sorry.”

“An’ whatd i tell you about apologizin’ all the time?”

“Sor- Uh. Right. Okay.” You tighten your jaw. No more.

Joel moves behind you, now squeezing water out the ends of your hair. “Whas’ that?”

“Oh!-” You peel back the lid, showing it to him. “Old fashion cake donuts are your favorite right? I remember you saying you liked eating them with your coffee in the mornings so…I made these. Youve been working a lot lately and I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Joel gingerly grasps the container from your hands, looking into it. Theyre a warm golden brown, outside evenly fried, and the sweet scent of them hits his nose right away.

“I was just gonna leave them on the doorstep and call you to tell you they were there, but I wanted to see you.”

His adam's apple bobs as he swallows the dryness in his throat. Youre too good for him. 

“Thank you very much.” He presses a kiss to your damp hair. “Now, lets get you into some dry clothes.”

Joel gives you a t-shirt and a pair of his boxers to keep you modest while your clothes wash and dry. 

You wait patiently on his bed for the hot chocolate he promised you before you showered. Theres nothing to watch on the tv, so you just turn it off and reach for the lamp on his nightstand instead. 

He comes in quietly, and sets the mug down beside the lamp. You finally come into focus, clear as day even under the low lighting.

“You uh.. You look nice.”

You blink. “I look nice?”

“In my shirt.”

That gets a smile out of you. 

Joel tips his head towards the mug. “S’hot so, give it a few minutes. Dont want you burnin’ your mouth.”

You nod. “Okay.”

Hes sat beside you now and the two of you sit in silence for a while. Its not awkward, just the kind of silence where both of you want to say something but just.. Cant.

Joel unravels first. “Missed you, y’know. Just been tired.”

“I know.” Your voice wobbles, and Joels jaw tightens like hearing you sound so sad stings him. “I missed you, too.” 

He slides his hand over yours, giving it a squeeze. Its okay. 

“Hey Joel...Can I stay the night?” 

“Sure. Id really like that.”

While you drink your hot chocolate, you and Joel catch up. You both talk about work, and about your new found interest in baking. Joel teases you about your lack of cooking skills, you do the same. Youre both useless. 

When its time to climb into bed, neither of you can actually fall asleep. Joel rolls onto his side, away from you and the window. You follow, curling up like a little cat against his back. The sensation is nice for the both of you.

You speak up after a little while.

“Joel?”

“Mm.”

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

He scoffs, voice thick with exhaustion. “Like I'd force you to leave after you brought me such a nice present.”

You let out a little giggle, “So if i didnt, youd kick me out?”

“Id think ‘bout it.”

You gasp, gently shoving at his back. “Thats mean…!”

“S’really not.”

“Oh yeah? And what if I poisoned them?.”

“Then itd jus' be a regular day of your cookin’ then.” Joel reminds you, lighthearted. Too many times where you left the shells in your eggs or burnt toast or left the bacon on the pan for too long.

“You cant get mad at me for my dark past when you made a perfectly good sirloin taste like horse leather.”

“Ugh. Dont remind me. That was like putting a one-hundred dollar bill into a paper shredder. How do either of us stay alive again?”

“Uh. Digiorno?”

“Digiorno.”

After a few moments, Joels rolling over again, and hes guiding your head to settle against his chest. Your arms wrap around him, and his arms around you. 

“Joel,” You whisper. He hums. “Im cold.”

“S’cause youre not wearin’ any pants.”

“And whos fault is that?”

“Still yours.”

“I was left out in the rain like a sad, sopping wet cat. One that was left in a box all alone with no family…” You pretend to sniffle. “Dont you feel bad for me?”

Joel sighs, not saying anything more except making sure the part of the comforter behind your back is tucked into your side so the cold air doesnt get in. When hes done, you do a little shimmy up his body, and throw your leg over his hip. Oh no.

Hes alert now. Very alert. Be normal. Joel hesitates, licking the dryness off his lips. “Uh. Feel better?”

“Mhm.” You push your face into his throat, cat-like, before settling down again. Hes like a radiator.

Actually scratch that, he cant be normal. 

“Darlin’.” He rasps, patting your back to get your attention.

“Mm?”

“Your leg. Move it.”

A few beats pass. “Why?”

“Because…” Wow,  he didnt think hed get this far. You shift forward and Joel lets out a quiet exhale through his nose, one that couldve been masked by the rain if you werent so close.

“Are you-”

“No! No. Its- Its not what you think-” He cant see your face in the darkness but he knows you feel the semi-hard struggling through the confines of his pants. Lame.

“Joel,” You say, soft. Your hands slide up his arm to cradle his jaw. Lightning flashes into the room, giving you a glimpse of Joels tight expression. He whispers your name back, just as soft.

“This is normal.” 

Its normal, it is! Except for the fact that you guys havent had sex yet. The stress of being intimate is too much, kills his boner in a blink. The longer he waits the worse the anxiety gets.

“I-I know.”

You place a hand on his chest, feeling it pound away like crazy through all the soft muscle.  

“Youve been taking your medication, right?”

Has he?

The silence of him thinking is proof enough. “Joel-”

He sighs, rubbing his eyes through the darkness .“I know, I know. Shoot, Im sorry. I just forget sometimes.”

“Its okay.” The pad of your thumb strokes the tops of his cheek, and you press a tender kiss to his mouth to soothe him.  “...Want me to remind you?”

The softness of your lips has him a bit dazed. “Huh?”

“I said, do you want me to remind you? I can- You know, call you before you leave work. Make sure you take them.”

“You know I wake up at five-o-clock in the mornin’ , right?”

“I know.” 

In a whisper, “Okay.”

Joels rough palms trail down your back and stop at the curve of your butt, finger tips delicately tracing the skin above your shorts. You shiver.

Barely above a whisper. “We dont have to go all the way.”

He says your name again, laced with worry. He doesnt want you to feel pressured. 

You pull your leg off his hip and push yourself up, settling your hands on either side of Joels head.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yes-”

“-And you cant get all in your head about it. You stay here, with me. You stay present.”

“Okay, okay.” He nods, a bit defeated. “I will stay present.”

“When you...When you say you dont wanna have sex, what is it that youre thinking exactly? I know you said you just get really nervous but I feel like youre not being totally honest.”

Joel stays quiet, idly rubbing your sides. Maybe you are a cat. Just getting to feel any part of you is soothing. “I jus’ want you to feel good. ‘Fraid ill do somethin’ you dont like.”

“You cant assume how I feel, Joel. Being intimate.. It takes time to learn what the other person likes.”

He sighs. “I know.” Youre always right.

Adding on, “Like I said, we dont have to go all the way,” You lean further back, situating yourself on his hips. He lets out a shaky breath when he feels the pressure of your ass through his sweats.

“But, I want to start somewhere. I want to feel you.” 

“Fuck- Um-” Hes shaking now, letting you grind your hips down onto him. Joel cant seem to control the way his hips instinctively push up to meet yours. Youre both becoming of a mess of little gasps and hot breaths and tiny whimpers already.

You hunch forward, guiding his hand under your your shirt- His shirt- letting him feel up the supple skin of your stomach, then the area where your ribs are, then your-

“And I want you to feel me,”

Surprisingly, you did actually go all the way that night.

Your sex life was a bit of a rocky start, but after Joel got over most of his anxiety, you learned quickly just how goddamn insatiable he was. Five years in and he still regularly makes you sore. 

There are a couple things you learned about him and his sexual interests. He loves to take you in his truck, in your kitchen, in your bathroom, on your couch. Other, riskier places. Anywhere that isnt your bed apparently, not that he isnt fucking you there either.

Joel is handsy, so handsy infact it embarasses you to no end, especially when youre infront of others. Thats usually how it starts, too. First he kisses you, then gropes your hips and your ass, and the next thing you know, youre cumming on his fingers. Then hed bend you over, or get you on your back, or make you ride him. Is it really riding if hes just slamming up into you until your brain turns into mush?

He likes that too. Making you not think.

Youd be lying if you said its only ever him. Sleepy morning handjobs before work, whining to him over the phone and touching yourself to his voice, arching your back into him while you're washing dishes, sucking him off after hours in his office.

And while most men prefer lingerie or little costumes, Joel likes dresses. Dresses that are discreet so he can take you in the backyard when he comes home early and sees you gardening. Or when youre both at a friends house and hes had a little too much to drink and finds himself alone with you. Dresses that make it easy to play his favorite game with you. I touch you, and you make sure we dont get caught by being too loud. Joel really is the worst sometimes.

Now, you only ever wear pants when its cold, or to bed or sometimes when youre lounging, like today. Youre in some shorts and a tank top. Otherwise, its dresses all year round, usually retro styles or ones meant for spring. Joels not picky though, he loves any dress on you.

Even if you wear an extremely modest, white lacey sleep dress, looking like some kind of vintage ghost, the man would still keep you up all night. And he has. He said you looked like a princess. You guess you kind of did.

The entire thing is like an unspoken arrangement between you both. He doesnt tell you to wear them, you just do.

And he works hard to spoil you, so why not buy as many cute dresses as possible? 

You got a cute dress today too, on the same day Joel has off. You think its going to be a new favorite of his.

The big polymailer stays hidden behind your back. Be casual. “Uh- Nothing!”

“Nothin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats behind your back then?”

You sway in place, trying to suppress a knowing smile. “I dont have anything behind my back.”

“Lemme see then. Show me your hands-”

“Hey, Mrs. Miller!”

Both you and Joel turn your heads to the voice, and only one of you has the energy to fake a a smile. Your neighbor is stopping in his driveway, having come back from a jog it looks.

“Hi, Lee.” 

Joel really, really, really doesnt like Lee. You dont like him either, but youre not one to cause problems. Lee on the other hand, is. Hes a bit younger than you, and a lot younger than Joel. Hes one of those tech dudes with a massive ego, thinks that youll be swayed by his money and his “charm” and youth as if youre some sad housewife in need of saving. Gross. 

And another thing, Lee doesnt even actually live here! Hes here ever so often to visit his dad between, you dont know, tech expos? You forget. Joel believes he started showing up more often to see you. 

Youre walking towards the porch again. Joels looking especially unhappy to see him today, knuckles pulled taut into a fist. His lips stay pressed into a thin line, careful not to let anything slip out. He usually lets you do most of the talking, as much as it pains him. 

Joels really not a fan of the way Lees eyes take a trip up your bare legs. Little shit.

“Out with no shoes again, Mrs. Miller?”

“You know me, Im uh- Im weird.”

“The weird ones do it best.” He smiles, all teeth. It gives you the creeps. His attention is on Joel now. Its like watching a puppy try to one up a wolf. “Right, Joel?”

“Uh huh.” Whatever that means.

“Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, Mrs. Miller.” Lee crosses into your driveway and you glance briefly at Joel, as if to make sure he isnt going to start growling at the other to stay away. Youre clutching the package to your chest now. 

“Have you ever been to a support group for uh- you know, the spouses of addicts?  I have a friend from work and shes really struggling.” 

Lees tone is sugary sweet, but the fake kind you put in diet soda except that stuff is way better. Joel sighs from the door. You stand there, dumbfounded on the porch steps because what the fuck is he going on about. 

You clear your throat, keeping your voice firm. “No. Ive never needed to.”  

Joels voice cuts in like a knife. “Been clean for almost twenty years now.”

“Yeah but, you know,” He shrugs, squinting a bit under the morning sun. “Relapses happen.”

Joel and Lee are at a stand still, and the moment Joel lets the arm leaning on the frame drop to his side, you know youre in for a lot of trouble. You move quickly towards the door. “We have to get ready for a- uh- a thing? but Im sorry about your friend.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Miller. Im doing my best to support her.” And before he turns away, he just has to be slimy to you. “If you need someone to talk to, Im here for you.”

“No, that really wont be necess-”

Joels slinging a strong arm around you to yank you back inside before shutting the door. 

“Motherfucker,” He hisses to himself, stomping through the walkway and into the kitchen.

“How-” You rub your eyes, letting them adjust to the light inside of the house. You put the package down onto the bar counter that opens up the kitchen and follow Joel to the fridge. “How does he know?? I thought-”

“Been living in this house for decades now,” His expression is tight, brows knitted together while he chugs a bottle of water. “People talk. ‘Specially if I'm being rolled into an ambulance on more than one occasion.” Joel frowns. “Fuck- I shoulda punched him in the fuckin’ face- Do you see how hard he tries so hard to flirt with you infront’a me?”

“I know, love. I was there.” You take the bottle from his hand and set it to the side, then wrap your arms around him. “Try not to let it get to you okay?”

Joel sighs into your hair, giving your body a squeeze. “I know, I know, but jus’ hearin’ him tryin’ta use my baggage to make a pass at you…S’fuckin’ evil.”

“I agree, but I dont want his blood on the driveway.”

“So get it on his driveway instead, got it.”

You giggle and tip your head up to kiss him. The tension eases from Joels shoulders, and he cups your cheeks, letting his worries melt away into your mouth. When the pads of his fingers start to slide under your tank top, youre leaning back. Youll be here for a while if this goes any further.

Joel mindlessly chases your lips, looking a bit pouty now that its over.

“Im gonna start getting ready for the barbecue, okay?”

“This early?”

“I like being punctual.” 

“My brother wont give a damn if were late.” He noses your jaw, pressing a kiss here and there. Your knees are beginning to feel weak. The bastard is trying to distract you.

“But I do. The farmers market opened today, and I promised Maria I'd get her fresh strawberries before we got there, remember?”

“Alright, alright.” He grumbles into your shoulder.

Joel lets you go, watching you round the bar counter to get your package and disappear upstairs.

-

Ever since you came down to a freshly showered Joel, and got into the car with the gift bags you prepared for Maria and Tommy, Hes been staring at you. One wrong move and the drools gonna start pouring out of his mouth.

Your hair is in its relatively natural state, freshly washed and shiny from the oil you put in it. You put on some light makeup, and went a bit heavy handed on the blush to look sunkissed, and topped it off with a flavored lip gloss Joel especially enjoys. 

Now, the dress. Its a pink floral mid-length dress, with a low cut sweetheart neckline and a corset style backing to cinch your waist and push out your chest. The material is thick and pretty, and there are two other layers under the skirt to keep its shape. You have on a pair of little pink pumps with little bows to match. 

The drive to the farmers market is fairly peaceful, the windows are half down and theres music playing at low volume on the radio. You and Joel have different tastes in music, but one genre you can always agree on is alternative rock. 

The weathers beautiful, sun high in the sky, and its not too hot or humid. The day really is perfect. Youre gonna soak up some sun when youre at the barbecue. Hopefully, they made lemonade again too.

Joel has been mostly quiet throughout your shopping. While it would worry some, youve been with him long enough to know that he just has a lot on his mind. What hes thinking about? Maybe youll learn when you make it back home at the end of the day.

You gasp, strolling through the grass to a stand with a mountain of apples. Granny smith, Macintosh, Pink Ladys, Honeycrisp, the works. He grunts, trying to keep the things that are already in your basket steady. You came for strawberries and are going to leave with much more than that.

Joel nudges you softly. “Remember, this is quality stuff, meaning itll go bad faster. Dont get too much.”

“Okay, got it.” You beam, and then begin inspecting the Pink Lady apples first, trying to find the ones with the best color.  He keeps the basket within reach so you can drop your picks in.

"These were Sarahs favorites."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, it was funny 'cause we started arguin' over these or Red Delicious. I think Red Delicious is better."

"Thats so cute! Hmm. Should we get one for her? A Pink Lady?"

"Uh," He thinks on it for a moment, unsure, but the smile on your face helps him make a decision. "Sure, why not."

You drop two perfect Pink Ladys into the basket, moving onto the next pile.

“Hey, Joel.” You grin, holding out a wrinkled granny smith apple. “This one looks like you”

“Ha ha.” He deadpans, and grabs it from you to put back. In turn, hes reaching for the runt of the pile. A pathetically small one sitting near the bottom. “Now this one looks like you.”

“Does not!”

“Does too.” 

The next stand has golden kiwis, and youre practically dragging Joel forward to try them. You ask for one, and the man at the stand slices it into halves, giving you a plastic spoon to go with. 

You let Joel smell it first. “S’good.”

“Lets see if it tastes good.”

You sink your spoon into it, humming when you see how soft and easy it is to scoop out. In your mouth it goes!

Its tastes sweet, a bit mango-y and fucking delicious. You bounce in place, spoon feeding Joel next. “Oh yeah,” He smiles, smacking his lips a bit to really let the taste settle on his tongue. “Were takin’ some of these.”

You take one, then two, then three and four then five and as you reach for the sixth one, Joels stopping you with a gentle hand. 

“Darlin’.” 

“Right.” 

For the next few stands its just you and Joel trying various kinds of fruit. Starfruit, blueberries, some mangos, and then youre going back to the truck.

“I think my favorites were the mangos and golden kiwis. I hope Maria and Tommy have enough space in their fridge for all of this.”

“They moved into a bigger house, I reckon their fridge s’probably bigger, too.”

“What time is it?” 

You let go of Joels arm so he can switch the basket from one hand to the other. 

“‘Bout…” Hes squinting at his watch. “12:34 in the afternoon.”

“Oh! Guess we got the shopping done sooner than I expected. Hmm. Should we stop somewhere in the mean time?-" You snap your finger when you remember something. "They opened up this cafe that has cats in it! We can drink coffee and play with them for bit! The next fourty-five minutes will go by super fast."

“Youre gonna make Cement jealous.”

You bat your hand dismissively. “Hes not gonna caaare.” 

“Oh yes he will. And remind me again why we named our cat Cement?

“Uh, we were both drunk and had gotten him the day before without a name picked out?”

“A whole year later and we still kept it. Worst pet owners ever.” Joel chuckles, opening the passenger door for you like he always does. 

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

The giant basket of fruit goes into the back seat next to the gift bags before Joel slots himself into the drivers seat. 

You fumble with the radio a bit, trying to see what else is on but ultimately landing back on your preferred station. Theyve been playing a lot of Linkin Park recently. Hell yeah. Joel buckles himself in at last, and pulls out of the parking lot. 

“Marias gonna teach me how to make baked chicken,” You hum, gazing outside the window.

“You sure youre not jus’ unteachable?”

“Ha ha,” You lightly shove his shoulder, making him smile. “I thought you loved the meat sauce pasta I learned how to make.”

He settles into his seat more comfortably at the stop light, elbow rested on the window. “Got me with that one. Think I like ground turkey over beef, though.”

“Yeah? Me too. The beef tastes better but the turkey is lighter. Stops me from feeling all sick.”

“Agreed.”

Youre looking out the windshield now. Where did all the buildings go? Youre out of the city. 

“Uh, Joel?”

“Mm?”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere to kill time.”

“Yeah but where?”

“Youll see.” 

Your brows pinch together. “I see a whole lot of nothing except for trees."

“Almost there.”

Joel makes a hasty left turn onto some campgrounds. Your stomach starts to twist into excited knots. Is he gonna show you a baby deer or something? Bunnies? He used to be a park ranger for this area, and would tell you stories about all sorts of baby animals hed run into.

The car comes to a stop, and he turns the engine off. Silence.

“So…Were out in the woods to kill time?”

“Mhm.” Joel unbuckles his seat belt and twists into the back to grab the spare jacket he usually keeps there, then gets out of the truck and comes around the back to open the door for you. 

He holds your hand to help you get down from the passenger side, and as soon as both of your shoes hit the ground Joel is on you. 

You dont know where your hands should go, youve kissed Joel a thousand times and yet you still get so flustered when he catches you by surprise. You keep your hands on his shoulders for now, letting him press wet kisses to your neck and shoulder.

“This is new right? The dress?” He gives your ass an appreciative squeeze through the fabric. “Thought you looked so pretty when you came down stairs in it.” 

Your heads spinning. Something about your dress? 

“Woulda been okay if you let me have you earlier.” He pulls away, examining your flushed face cradled by his hand. Every part of you just fits so well in his palms. “Then I thought, why not have you now? We got time to spare.”

“Joel- We- Someone could see us-” You sputter, and Joels already shaking his head with a knowing smirk. He pulls you around to the bed of the truck, popping it open, only pausing to spread open the jacket he grabbed, just having just thrown it in there when he came around to get you.

“No ones gonna come lookin’ for us.” He turns you around, pushing you down onto your front. “As long as youre quiet.” 

Fuck. You really hate this game. At least, you like to tell yourself that.

Blood rushes to your ears while Joels rough palms lift up the skirt of your dress, exposing your ass and thighs to the cool air. He whistles from behind you. 

“Red lace panties?” His fingers dont shy away from tracing along the fabric covering your cunt. “This new too?”

You crane your neck over your shoulder to look at his face. “Uh.. Surprise?”

Joels smiling now, fingers dipping under the lace. “Thas' awfully sweet of you.”

His touch slips and slides around your growing wetness, then trails down to your clit. Your voice wobbles a bit and fuck- fuck hes going too fast. “Joel- Ah-” You whimper and try to push yourself up to look at him but his hand is steady on your spine, keeping you down. 

Smug, “Go on, sweetheart. Keep sayin’ my name. Jus’ like that.”

A whine escapes you when he pulls away, “Nooo.” You push your ass back, as if to entice him. You succeed, because hes skipped his usual routine of fucking you with his hands and is now unbuckling his belt.

Joel rolls you onto your back, and peels your underwear all the way off, bunching it up and shoving it into his back pocket. Your face burns just watching him.

“Think i'll hold onto these for a lil’ while.”

His hands push the back of your knees towards your chest, exposing your heat. Youll never get used to the way he just seems so interested just watching your cunt squeeze around nothing. 

“Thats-” You swallow, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. "Joel.”

“Relax." He coos, "Seen it a thousand times already, and ill be seein' it a thousand more. Get used to it, honey.”

Your attention flickers down to where his dick is about to meet your entrance. Joels nudging you down onto your back again and pulling the top of your dress down to expose your chest. Its when youre distracted that he actually moves to push himself in.

Both of you groan together, and Joel could never get bored of fucking you, not when your cunt just pulses around him everytime hes inside you.

Joel wastes no time fucking you once he eases all the way inside. Youre trying your best to keep quiet. Shit is no easy task. Its like Joel is trying to get you guys arrested.

He props himself up with a hand near your head, and lets the other keep one of your legs pinned open. The moans start to claw out of your throat. “Joel- Joel-” 

“Shh. Thas’ enough.” He growls through his teeth, fucking you harder. “Youre gonna- Gh- Get us caught-”

Something rustles between the trees, making you both freeze. You clasp your hands over your mouth, watching Joel straighten up to look around.

After a few seconds of squinting, Joel can see a few foxes moving about through the trees. Thank fuck. His shoulders visibly relax.

Hushed, “E-Everything okay?”

“Yeah, jus’ some animals.” 

And like that, hes back to it. His dick is going to make your eyes permanently stay rolled into your head. 

Joel is always just so handsome when hes pounding into you. His forehead gets shiny with sweat, and his jaw is tight from clenching his teeth, keeping himself quiet so he can focus on your moans. His face is noticeably redder against his usual farmers tan too. Really, hes just so attractive.

A flurry of yes and harder and fuck spills out of your mouth and into your palms. Not too loud, you try to remind yourself.

“Joel- S’too much-”

“Nah, thas’ not it.” He huffs, humorous. “You can take it. Y'always do. In fact, you love gettin’ your cunt bullied by me, aint that right?” As if to get his point across, he thrust in all the way to the hilt, making you keen. You forgot how to breathe, lungs drawing tight in your chest.

"Fuck," You manage to squeeze out.

Your palms push weakly at his shoulders, trying to ground yourself somehow. His head drops to the junction of your neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply.

“You good?” He checks in, breath hot on your skin. As if your crying isnt enough.

“So g-good, Joel- Fuck- Youre so good.” 

With a little nod, Joels pushing himself up, switching to slow and deep strokes, really digging himself into you, and trying to find that spot he likes to call home.

He massages your chest, then squeezes your sides and your hips and finally, his thumb finds your clit. Immediately, you jolt. 

“Oh fuck-” 

“Quiet.” And he says it to keep the charade going, even though his favorite thing is hearing your sobs.

His thumb rubbing incessantly against your that sweet little nub of yours. You choke, and Joels chuckling, watching the way you squirm, body not knowing whether it should lean into his touch because its too good or away because its too much.

It starts with this firey feeling under the pad of his thumb, then deep inside your stuffed cunt. Youre going to cum. 

Your hands fly to your mouth again, and you get all wide eyed from the sensation. Its cute. Your muscles pull taut, legs locking around Joels hips. Youre wailing into your palm when it happens.

“Good girl,” His voice soothes you through it. “Very good.”

He pets away the fly aways sticking to your sweaty face when its over. Your eyes drop shut while you catch your breath. 

Joels moving again now. He rolls his hips a few times, and thumb is building the foundation of another orgasm in you. Youre shaking badly.

Your words slur too, “Cant- Too soon- Joel- Joel-”

“Another one.” Joel says firmly, but breathless. 

Youre gasping, not sure where to focus your eyes. The trees around you look like theyre spinning. Your attention is back on Joel, whos looking rather satisfied watching you squirm and cry. If thats how wants to play, then fine.

Your hands slide up Joels biceps, and rests on the nap of his neck to bring him down. “Juh-Joel,” You pant, cradling his face with both hands. “Youre so good- The best-”

Oh, Joel likes that one, you can tell by the way he looks away briefly. Shyness. Excitement runs up your spine. Joel loves being told hes doing well. 

“You are- Nghh-” You swallow the drool in your mouth, trying to get the words out clearly. “The best husband I could ever ask for.”

Joel wheezes, head dropping into the curve of your shoulder. “Please.”

“S’true,” You nod rapidly, fingers curling into his hair. “Youre so good to me and-and youre mine and- Joel-  Im yours.”

“Jesus-” He groans, soaking up the feeling of you pressing kisses to his face and up his jaw. 

“Hhah-  No one else can have me, okay? No one- Not even-”

The name doesnt even come out of your mouth before Joels coming to a stop to slip his arms all the way around your middle. With the new leverage he has on your body, hes drilling his way into you. You fucking squeal, rules now long forgotten. Youre a useless ragdoll in his arms and he wouldnt have it any other way.

Your lips are shiny with spit and left over lip gloss, and he can still taste the mintiness in his tongue. Every now and again your eyes drop shut, but his dick just punches into your guts a little harder. Look at me. 

Your brain is mush, just the way he likes it, and youre perfectly pliant in his arms, babbling over how good you feel. Hes kisses along the valley of your breasts now, stopping to suck the flesh of your nipples.

Youre just so pretty. Even when you have bedhead, or youre snotty from a cold, or youre all dirty from working in the garden  youre still so pretty. Including now, all sweaty with you lipgloss all smudged and your mascara starting to run. Youre perfect. 

Joel grunts loud, jaw clenched tight as he gets lost in the feeling of your insides. His perfect little wife.

When he cums, hes doubling over with a loud grunt, getting a few last thrusts in before his spent floods your cunt.

Youre blinking away your tears, now watching the clouds inch along the sky. It really is a beautiful day. You pet Joels sweaty hair, and kiss the side of his temple. Your core throbs faintly. Jesus, he did a number on you.

“Love,” You say softly, patting his back.

“Mm?”

“Get up.” Another pat. “Youre squishing me.” 

Joel backs off to buckle himself up, but you stay seated to catch your breath and adjust your dress. At least it didnt get ripped during all the… Commotion. Not like last time.

“I need my underwear back.”

“Nope,”

“Joel.”

He kisses the center of your forehead and helps you down from the bed and into the passenger seat instead.  “Told you i'm keepin’ ‘em.”

You sputter, “I cant go to barbecue commando!”

“Sure you can.” He pops open the glove compartment and gets out some tissues, hand snaking under your dress again to clean you. You sigh softly at the sensation.

“Youre the worst.”

“I am indeed the worst.” Joel pulls the seatbelt over your chest and clicks it in. “You can tell me all about it on the way to Tommys.” 

[meliciousmel13]

̗̀➛ boring.

i, want kiss you till my lips bleed, until i turn to bones.

warnings: smut, fingering (r receiving), also mentions of cannibalism?? but it's just an extreme way of saying how much you love someone.

wc: 3,607

SYNOPSIS: uhh, best friends?? maybe?? where 1 time you her she doesn't kiss back. 2nd time she kisses you YOU don't kiss back. theres a 3rd but i think i'll spoil.

taglist: @guysimgay164, @madisonbeerssecretwife @bandanamatt

an: IM SO SORRY for this kinda taking a whole ass week, but on friday i got such a fucking writers block, also i got a little burnt out cause i was writing a little over 500+ words a day, and that might not sound like a lot but with the shit i do everyday its A LOT. can't promise this won't happen again tho cause it probably will 😛 ALSO!! at the end it might suck cause i was in a rush to finish this, and also, it gets a little poetic at the end ngl idk what came over me

you didn’t know when it started. or when the obsession even started. you met at the met gala, being introduced by one of your close friends, she got your number, and sent you a text. by then you were attached by the hip. she wouldn’t leave your side. you didn’t want her to.

you didn’t know if you were best friends, but it’s been months and the stares in a crowded room made you think. what were you? you hang out all the time, you sleep in the same hotel bed and she hugs you from behind when sleeping. she was confusing. so confusing you didn’t know if she wanted you or just wanted to be friends.

you were at a diner now. with billie and 5 other of your friends, they were talking about anything and you were staying silent, laughing at whatever your found funny and sipping your strawberry milkshake that you didn’t pay for. somehow you always forgot your wallet. it was a scheme so billie would always pay for your shit. she got used to it though. sometimes you’d feel bad and buy her a flower or something.

billie was sitting across from you, occasionally adding to the story and laughing, loudly. you examine her eyes, lips, hair, clothes, just about everything. you weren’t deep in thought she just looked perfect in that moment. she saw you staring, and smiled. you felt your cheeks flush but you smile back, looking away and finishing your drink.

“can you buy me another?” you lean over the table, flashing you famous, ‘please please please let me get what i want’ smile, and knowing she was going to buy it for you even if you tried to deny it.

billie nodded, scooting over your friends and walking over to the counter with the singular staff and getting the milkshake, sliding it over the table to you and quickly walking—half jogging to the bathroom.

“so, you and billie,” everyone’s eyes were on you and you felt uncomfortable because no ones paid that much attention to you since you walked in the diner, “what are you?” zoe asked.

you shrug, “don’t know.” you answer, hoping that they would go back to talking to each other and leave you out of it.

“what do you mean ‘don’t know’ we know you guys are doing something.”

“we’re not.” you said, crossing your arms defensively, you desperately wanted to be ‘doing something’ with billie but you never made the first move. probably why your still single. too cooped up at home and too shy to make any resemblance of a love life.

“really?” she raised her eyebrows, as if she thinks your lying, “look in my eyes and tell me your guys aren’t fucking.” you let out a audible laugh at that, realizing she was serious.

“we aren’t fucking.” you lean over the table, and look in her eyes.

billie came back from the bathroom, and everyone pretended as if they never had that conversation. you sigh, and lean back on your chair, sipping your milkshake and putting it back down, realizing you also needed to go to the bathroom probably because of your 2 previous milkshakes. that was your third.

you get out of your seat and walk to the bathroom, wearing your usual sweats and one of billies oversized shirts. the bathroom was clean enough so entered a stall, did your business and got out. while you were washing your hands you heard the door open, seeing billie.

“hey.” she walked towards you.

“hi.” you answer, smiling awkwardly, walking towards the exit until billie stopped you, “what?” you asked, wondering why she stopped you.

“you seemed upset so i wanted to check up on you,” sweet. “did my friends make you uncomfortable or something? i can talk to them.” she said, leaning on the counter.

“no it’s fine, they didn’t do anything.” you shake your head, and she hugs you, mumbling ‘just wanted to make sure’ into your neck, and you thought she could hear your heart beating like a drum against your rib cage.

she pulled away and you couldn’t help but look in her eyes. they looked beautiful. she was beautiful. you felt your feet stumble, and briefly held her shoulders for balance. you were cautious of your proximity and breathe deeply. tilting your head and glancing at her lips. you were close. so close your could feel her breath on your face, the next thing you knew you were brave enough to kiss her.

you kissed her.

and she didn’t kiss back. one of her friends opened the door and you pushed her away, now she was the one stumbling.

“heyy, we’re leaving now, you guys have like 3 minutes before we leave.”

the ride back was normal, as normal as i-just-kissed-my-best friend-and-she-didn’t-kiss-me-back. fairly normal. billie was still touchy, hand on our thigh and your head on her shoulder. you were overthinking. completely. a whole bunch of, why didn’t i ask if i could kiss her before actually fucking kissing her. and, maybe i was too quick and that’s why she didn’t kiss back. complete bullshit, trying to make sense of whatever that was.

they dropped you off and billie took your hand before you got out the car, “should i sleep over?” she asked, and you shook your head, sleeping in the same bed as her after kissing her was awkward.

“no, i’m okay.” you answer and you saw her question you with her face, “billie, i’ll be fine, seriously.” she nodded, briefly hugging you and letting go of your hand.

you should’ve said yes. you weren’t fine. or okay. she was acting so normal about it, it consumed your mind. thoughts of your kiss. you couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning, and deciding that trying to sleep was useless and stupid.

so you watch TV all night long, binge watching a whole season of a show you couldn’t remember and trying to get your mind off of someone you see nearly everyday. you couldn’t wait to see her. and also wanted to run away. maybe if you just looked at her from afar it would be nice. but she was too nice. she invited you to hang out with her friends again the next day.

you were at a bar now. blue and red LED lights surrounded the place and there were at least 20 security guards around the bar. no one really recognized you so you never needed any people protecting you. but with billie, it was different.

it wasn’t loud, but loud enough that you kinda had to shout to hear people talking. billie was sitting beside you, talking to one of her friends, you hated going out. but billie forced you, saying “you can’t make more friends if your always at home” she was right, but still.

her friend looked at you and you tried to not draw attention to yourself, like a tiny pebble by the side of a road, she notices you though, even with your struggles to breathe as quietly as possible. you didn’t like being around people.

“—are you?”

“huh?” you question.

“how are you?” her friend asks again.

“i’m good.” you reply.

“that’s good.” she smiled.

“and you?”

“hm?” she turned back to you, not hearing what you said.

“i mean—how are you?”

“i’m good too.” she said, and you hummed. thats the longest you could hold a conversation. you don’t understand why billie hangs out with you. you were boring.

“billie.” you pat her arm, she turns to look at you, you could tell she was drunk by the way she looked at you. realizing that you had to take of her for once, “hey, we’re gonna go.” you said to her friend, not wanting to go without saying goodbye.

her friend was nice, but you didn’t know her name. too shy to ask, trying to overhear some say her name but no one did. she was sort of like you, except she had more than 3 friends.

“i don’t want to go.” billie murmured, gazing at you with bedroom eyes. she’s drunk. you remind yourself.

“we have to go, billie, your drunk.”

“i don’t want to. i wanna be with you.” you sighed. tilting your head back and seeing her friend give you a sympathetic smile.

“billie, please—”

“why are you ignoring me?” she asked, and you felt your throat tighten up. she’s drunk.

“i’m not.”

“but you are,” yes. “your ignoring me cause you kissed me,” she’s talking.“because you can’t handle being seen. you don’t like talking about your feelings—you don’t like explaining, you hate communicating. fucking hate it. how do i know? cause i know you—”

She was dragging her thumb across your lip now and you looked at her, “You’re not sober so your not allowed to touch me.” you said and moved her arm away. trying to ignore her words. the truth.

“so your saying i’m allowed to touch you when i’m sober?”

“I’m only saying yes because i doubt you’ll remember much of this conversation in the morning.” you said.

“take me home.” by home she meant your home. she was slowly moving in your apartment. leaving her shirts in your empty drawer.

“where?”

“homee, don’t you know where home is? huh?” she said snarkily.

you roll your eyes and take her hand, leading her out the door, and get bombarded with flashing cameras. you forgot to go out the backdoor. sighing you wait until billie’s bodyguard opens the door for you, letting her get in first then you get in behind her.

the ride back home was quiet, billie was tired, you looked out the window and she looked at you. you felt her hand sliding back on your thigh, where it belongs.

“billie.” you warn. turning back to face her, she had a cheeky smile on her face and you were too tired to handle a half-drunk person right now.

“your boring.” she groans, leaning back on the leather chair and leaving your thighs alone, “do you have a pen?” she asked the driver. the man nods and hands her a black pen. she wrote something on her arm and then gave it back.

you couldn’t care less, going out two days in a row made you nauseous. you needed at least a 3 day break away from people before going out again. she was changing you.

the driver finally dropped billie off at her house, and he was crazy to think you would let her be and trust her enough to just hope she gets into bed, it was too dropped. so you tell him to wait a little until you’ve put drunk-billie to sleep. more then a little because she was difficult to deal with.

she stumbled into the house and you sigh, “you know, i think i’m more sober now, can i touch you now?” she asked, and you walked to her kitchen to get her a glass of water.

“not sober enough. drink this.” she groaned childishly, but still downs the glass, burping and giggling afterwards. for now, she was being cooperative. not like you’ve ever dealed with drunk-billie, usually it’s just her taking care of drunk-you. and that’s considered a skill���a little inside joke between your 3 friends. since no ones been able to calm the storm in years! (it happened 1 time.) you get angry easily when drunk, and incredibly sassy and really hard to please. so it was sort of a surprise when billie calmed you down by literally, putting her thumb in your mouth, it shut you up, at least.

“can i touch you now?” she asked again, while slipping off her shirt, tossing it on the floor and revealing her black lacy bra, it wasn’t strange, you change in front of each other all the time.

“no.” you repeated. you helped her take off her pants while she sat down on the bed, and she repeated ‘can i touch you now?’ every few minutes.

“can i touch you now? please? please.” she said after getting fully dress for bed, and you almost gave in at her pleads but continued your game of torture.

“nope.”

“what?! i’m sober, i’m so sober you can tell right?”

you ignored her and handed her the tooth brush, “you can touch me when you wake up tomorrow.”

“why should i listen to you?” she took you by the hips and you had to remind yourself, she’s drunk.

“because.. i want you to.” you struggle to make up an excuse, she’s drunk.

she scoffs, “i’m not drunk anymore so why can’t i touch you?” she whispered in your ear. you didn’t believe her, she was still slurring her speech.

her face was so close. she’s drunk. she could kiss you. she’s drunk. what if— she’s drunk.

she still attempted to kiss you and you pushed her away when she got too close, “that’s enough billie. go to bed.” you contained yourself, luckily.

she groaned, again, and plopped down onto her large kind sized bed, “but i’m so lonely in my huge bed, alone.” she emphasized.

“i’m not sleeping with you.”

“i wish.” she mumbled, “why not?”

because i don’t trust myself. you shrugged and opened her bedroom door, ready to leave her house and go back home.

“please don’t leave.”

“i’m sorry.” you mumble, closing the door behind you and leaving her house. entering the car with the driver. he already knew where you lived, considering he’s been taking you home for weeks now.

“sorry that took a while.” you smiled softly.

“s’ alright, i understand dealing with drunk people can be problematic sometimes.” he said, patting your shoulder and driving down the familiar road where you live.

it was a short 20 minute drive, jamie even let you play the songs you wanted, it was fun. he was a cool guy.

you got home safely, opening the door to your warm apartment and for once it felt too hot. you slip off your shoes and get ready for bed. all you could think about was billie. she tried to kiss you.

billie barely remembered what happened yesterday. the moment she woke up she was hit with a massive headache. it was like her head was splitting open. she had a writing on her arm, written in black pen.

“she said i can touch her when i’m sober” it wrote.

she remembered bits and pieces of what happened the night before. she got up, went to her bathroom, and cleaned up her face. taking an Advil and eating breakfast.

you woke up feeling indifferent, just did your usual routine, having routine nothing do. sure you could hang out with your friends but they had work in the early morning and your starts at 7PM.

you contemplated calling billie and telling her all about last night but you thought i was time to stay home, you were comfortable, since going out too much it made you question your life.

you heard the door ring and groaned, having finally found a comfortable position on your couch. you get up and answer the door.

it was billie. she was wearing a top and some dark gray sweats, she looked out of breath. like she ran from her car, up 2 flights of stairs and to your apartment.

“hey.” she said, panting.

“hi?” you stand confused. billie bit her lip and hugged you tightly. what the hell? “bill—”

“you said i can touch you when i’m sober.”

oh.

“you remember that?”

she shook her head and showed you the writing on her arm.

“i wanted to talk to you about something.” she slowly entered your house, closing the door behind her and sitting you down on your couch. now you were stressed. what did she want to talk about—

“um, remember when we went to that diner?” oh fuck. “in the bathroom, you uh—kissed me.” fuck. fuck. fuck.

“yeah?” you try to control your facial expressions. as if you weren’t dying on the inside. you didn’t think she would actually talk about it.

“um—” billie was also anxious, she was massaging her fingers and playing with her top, “and you know yesterday at the bar?”

you nod.

“you know what that means?”

that you like me too?

billie leaned down and kissed you. even though you were expecting it doesn’t mean you were ready. she tilted her head, and you wanted her. you wanted her to rip out your skin and see your bones and taste you, eat you, rip you apart and consume you inside and out, make you a part of her forever. have you in a way no one else ever could.

“billie.” you breathed, the burning need was there. she could taste it and hear it and see it. you almost thought, that you’ve never seen something as beautiful as her leaning down to kiss you. how her eyes turned a darker shade of blue and how her lips turned bruised and battered from kissing you dry.

“yeah?” she was kissing your neck now. sat down next to you and touched your burning skin. held you and felt you.

“billie.” you called her name like how a child would cry for his mother. like you needed needed needed her.

“hm?” she responded, tugging your shirt and you took it off. she could see you. she could see your breasts and nipples and skin and bones. and you could see how her breathing picked up and how her lips parted. she touched you, groped you felt you. as if she didn’t think you were real. like something as perfect as you, couldn’t exist.

she gulped, grabbed you by the hips and took you to your room, your bed, your sheets, your pillows, but you wanted nothing more than for her to take you. you needed to live under her skin. have her name tatted on your back.

she laid you down, kiss you neck, collarbones and lips before kissing your breasts, burying her face in them like it was what she needed to breathe. she licked and nipped and drew figure 8’s around them with her tongue.

you whimper, bucking your hips and feeling her holding you down, “may i?” she asked, and slid her finger beneath your pants. you nod, unable to speak, “words, baby.”

“yes.” you said, yes yes yes, please.

she smirked, slid them down your legs and tossed them behind her. her tatted hand pulling your panties off and moaning, “fuck, angel.” she ran her finger through your folds and you squeezed around nothing.

she spread your thighs apart, leaned down, kissed you clit and sat up again, moving next to you and lying her head on your soft pillows, putting her hands behind her head and patting her lap.

“c’mere.” she said, holding under your thighs and sitting you down. she still had her dark gray sweats on. she was still fully clothed while you were naked.

you whine and she shushes you, sliding you higher on her body causing you to sit on her pelvis and having you clit barely brush’s on her drawstring, causing you to bite your lip.

“so quiet for what huh?” she traces your bottom lip, “don’t know what to say? hm baby?” was she trying to kill you?

you pant over nothing, grinding on her like a dog in heat and she guided you back and fourth by your hips, “fuck—” you mumble.

she hummed and stopped helping you, letting you do all the work, just putting her hands behind her head and watching you grind on her.

“good girl.” she rubbed our hips and did absolutely nothing to help. all you could do was helplessly grip at her shoulders and try to get off, “can’t cum without my help?” she abruptly slid her middle finger inside you and you gasp. she pulled your hips lower on her finger and added another, “js’ like that baby.” she hummed when you started riding her fingers.

you sigh—whining when her digits hit that spongy spot inside you. bouncing on her lap like a goddamn bunny. and she looked so entranced. like she was enjoying this more than you.

“i’m gonna cum.” you whine out. you hair framing her face, she smirked, curling her fingers and you came all over her, rolling you eyes back and feeling her kissing at your neck, still pumping slowly to help you get down from your high.

billie sat up, pulling you off her lap and placing you down next to her and jogging to your bathroom, turning on the water and waiting for it to fill up.

“you want some water?” she handed you a water bottle and you sat up to drink it,“your stupid.” you mumble and billie laughed, carrying you to the bath and putting you down into the warm water.

“how am i stupid?”

“because you took too long to confess.” you said.

“oh and that’s my fault?”

“yes, it is.” you said, and billie shook her head, undressing and getting in the bath behind you, ignoring you childish banter and peppering kisses all over your neck, causing you to giggle.

“you wanna go somewhere tomorrow?”

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

DIET PEPSI- L. HOWLETT

a quick little drabble i made on the spot about older bf! logan and his kinda innocent girl sneaking out and having some fun in the car ;)

warnings: smut! and swearing, and petnames!

word count- 800 or so

"when we drive in your car, i'm your baby (so sweet) losing all my innocence in the backseat say you love, say you love, say you love me (love me) losing all my innocence in the backsеat"- diet pepsi, addison rae

i wrote this in 20 mins so im sorry if its messy n bad i just love this song sm and him aghhhh

“Careful now, don’t bump your head baby.” Logan's rich voice drawled from the backseat, his hand cupping your neck and slowly guiding your head down to lay against the car door.

You smiled softly, looking down at your twiddling fingers- flustered.

You and your (older) boyfriend Logan had slipped away for a late night drive, something you loved to do during summer months.

He always kept a hand on your thigh as you draped your head out the window, letting the cool wind blow your hair back down the backroads.

This was the first time the two of you had pulled over, in the middle of an empty field, nothing but the stars illuminating the now dead quiet truck. Only the sound of cicadas chirping from the forest as he stepped out, too large to crawl over the middle armrest, like you had.

He was sure to get a good look at your ass in your skirt as you shimmed over, giving it a gentle smack which made you yelp.

You felt so, so dirty for being this despite- for wanting to take him here, in the car. Or moreso, let him take you.

It was a family dinner- that's what led you here.

You didn't want to break your parents' strict rules about PDA at the family function, and you were risking enough already by innocently sipping diet pepsi on Logan's lap, by the campfire.

It was for warmth, you had insisted- looking over at your older sister and her boyfriend. If they were allowed to do it, why couldn't you?!

The need to escape overpowered you, mainly due to the feeling of Logan's soft but hungry gazes at you all night when no one was looking, or the way his hand would slip over in the dark, dangerously past your upper thigh.

You never had car sex before.

Hell, you weren't very experienced with sex, sex yet.

But Logan was so experienced, he had made you feel so good you couldn't help but crave him- to crave more.

So now you were here- empty pepsi cans crushed under your feet as you slipped down the seat, peering up at him. He was so close to you he was practically on top of you, the car much too small for his massive frame.

You giggled as his dogtags dangled in front of you, twirling your fingers around them.

“A-are you sure you wanna do this Lo? Can you fit?”

“You asked that the first time baby and we made it work.” he winked and you rolled your eyes.

“You know thats not what I meant. This cars so small…”

“We’ll make it work baby. Promise.” he smirked, wasting no time unbuckling his belt, the jingle sound of the metal making you squirm. Though you had nowhere to go anyways.

“Wet already? You’re so easy baby.” he chuckled, rubbing his tip across the damp spot in your panties from under your skirt.

You moaned, wiggling from his touch.

”Nowhere to go baby. And there's no one around either. So you can be as loud as you want.”

You let out a quick little gasp, eyes widening as he quickly pushed your panties to the side, taking in the sight of you under him.

It made him feel like a horny teenager again. He just… couldn't resist around you.

“I’m gonna put it in now, mkay? Big stretch.” he cooed down at your softly, hand cupped back around your neck to support you. Your mouth widened to an o-shape as he slid in softly, hissing at your tightness.

“Fuckin hell baby youre like a glove. Every damn time. I will never get tired of this pretty pussy.” he growled possessively as you reached for him, fingers getting tangled in his hair.

He was so big, his smell so intoxicating it made you dizzy. Logan was your first- and you hoped your only. If this was what sex was like, you never wanted it to end with him.

“Mm Lo-” you moaned, letting out a squeal as he slid home, before sliding out and rocking into you roughly.

The car started to shake and creak as he picked up the pace, beating your pussy raw until a little white circle formed around the base of his cock.

The windows had fogged, your handprint a stark contrast against it as you arched for more.

“Fuck Lo-logan, need you, need more..” you babbled mindlessly, self control gone out the window.

“Yeah?” he snarled as he folded your body in half like a pretzel, your toes nearly touching the very window your head was at, still pounding into you hard enough to make your brain go hazy.

“I’m gonna keep you here all night baby, givin you what ya need.”

[min-imum]

FLUFFY GYU SMUT !!!!

nsfw, mdni

content warnings: gn!reader, this is actually so fluffy because i love domesticity and i’m a sucker for domestic fluff but also mingyu is too hot so i ended up being a smut account but but but TIYA I MEANT AN ASK WITH CONTENT 😞😞😞😞 it’s okay this means i can write WHATEVER I WANT!!!!!!!! DOMESTIC MINGYU!!!!!!!, super soft sex, super sweet mingyu, AUGH its vanilla and it’s cute, also i literally added tags to this in advance because my dumbass completely forgot to add tags in my previous post and i was like hmm it’s a suspiciously low number of notes for the amount of time this has been up OHHHHHHH no tags., second time i’ve had to rewrite a fic because tumblr said nope sorry we cant save this AND THEN IT JUST DIDNT SAVE EVEN THOUGH I ALREADY SAVED THE DRAFT EARLIER AND I WAS JUST ADDING ON :( im being so fr the first draft was SO much better on god and it was longer too but i forgot what i wrote rAAA

mingyu — your sweet, darling boyfriend. you love him with all your heart and you know he loves you too.

he shows you just how much he loves you all the time. you know he loves you when he crawls up at dawn to make you breakfast. you know he loves you when he crouches to tie your shoelaces for you. you know he loves you when he sends you sweet texts throughout the day, and when he purchases souvenirs from all his travels for you, and when he wraps his big arms around you on a bad day to cushion you and comfort you.

you know he loves you when he makes love to you like this, slow and sweet and filled with emotion.

he kisses you slowly, languidly, and you moan into his mouth as his cock presses into you inch by inch. when he pulls back to look at you, his eyes are filled with adoration. it makes your heart squeeze in your chest.

when you finally take him to the hilt, he pauses, litters kisses over your face and neck, presses his lips to your jaw, bites gently at your earlobe, and waits ever so patiently for you to get used to his size inside you.

“you can move, gyu,” you whisper. he kisses you once more as his hips start to move, grunts falling from his lips with each thrust. he leans his forehead against yours tenderly and bumps your noses together affectionately.

his hands roam your body, squeezing gently and feeling you up. he revels in every moan and whine that escapes from your lips. he nuzzles against your cheek sweetly.

as much as you like the rougher, meaner sex you have with him, this sweet love-making is your favourite. he never fails to remind you how much he loves you and how special you are to him.

he presses his nose into your hair and breathes in your scent.

“did you use my shampoo, baby?”

“mhm,” you smile sheepishly. “sorry.”

“don’t apologise. i like it when you smell like me.” he giggles, expression absolutely lovesick. you blush, shy and contented.

“i like smelling like you too.”

he has the sweetest smile on his face, eyes glittery and lips curled, as he fucks you with all the love in the world. he loves making you feel good, he loves taking care of you. he loves you.

soon, you’re cumming over his cock with a long whine, and he fucks you through it. he always makes sure you cum first. and then he follows quickly, rolling his hips into you one last time and emptying himself into you.

finally, he rolls the two of you over so you’re lying on his chest, his cock still buried inside you.

“hi,” you giggle.

“you’re so cute,” mingyu coos. “my adorable baby. i love you so much.”

you smile, eyes bright with happiness and satisfaction. “i love you too.”

“let’s get up soon, okay? i have to clean you up and change the sheets,” he murmurs.

as always, your sweet boyfriend never fails to take care of you and show you how much he loves you.

“okay,” you hum. “five more minutes?”

he strokes your back affectionately and presses a tender kiss to your head. “five more minutes.”

[kentoxo]

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt.14

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: AHHH IM BACK YALL, IM SO SORRY I WAS GONE. life was doing its thang, but i have returned! here is a nice, warm part in attempts to apologize for my absence xo this might not be checked for spelling or anything so pls forgive me. its late and i have a baby cold but i wanted this part to come out already!

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8, pt.9, pt.10, pt.11, pt.12, pt.13,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Tuesday (after work)

“Haibara, he likes me!” You screech into your phone. Your pillow was at the mercy of your ecstatic chokehold. “The Nanami likes me!” 

You had spent a good portion of your night talking with Haibara. He truly was the only one who you could share your excitement with, considering his friendship with Nanami. He was the only one who understood the stiff blonde and appreciated how you managed to sway his feelings. But, on that same note, he knew you pretty well and was the best at teasing you. 

“You’re quite excited for someone who won’t give him a chance yet,” Haibara teases you. You frown at his words, hoping he’d react like you did. “Why don’t you just let him win you over already?”

“Because!” You reply sharply, jabbing your finger in the air. “He has to earn it, especially after what he’s put me through.” 

Haibara lets out a sigh, “and if he decides to change his mind?”

You huff at his distasteful question, “he won’t.” 

Haibara lets out a small snort, “didn’t realize you knew Nanami for as long as I have. My bad.” 

Sucking your teeth, you sprawl your limbs out on your bed, your eyes distantly staring up at the ceiling, “you know I don’t know a whole lot about him… but he’s different towards me now. There’s something there that wasn’t there before.” 

“Can’t argue with that one,” Haibara admits reluctantly. “I’ve never seen Kento act like this. He’s always been to himself.” 

You smile triumphantly at his words, “it feels like I like him more because of that.” 

“Don’t start,” Haibara taps at your confidence a bit. “Anyhow, let me leave you. I’m gonna order take out and watch a drama.” 

You pout but nod to yourself, “thanks for the chat, Yu. Have a good night!” 

“You as well, Y/N.” Click. 

You toss your phone to the side, a wide smile lingering at your lips. Nanami has intentions to conquer you. And it wasn’t like you were going to deny him, despite prolonging his torture. He could write his confession and pass it to you like in grade school, and you’d still check the ‘yes’ box. Your stomach felt queasy at the thought of his re-attempt, considering his first confession still remained in your mind. 

Albeit how that bad night went. 

Inspired by Haibara (and the growling of your stomach), you get up to order yourself a bit of food as well. As you waited for the order, you fix up your hair so the delivery person didn’t think you were a hobbit. While you adjusted your face, your phone began to ring in your bedroom. You rush to fetch it, your stomach tossing with excitement for the food. But when you blindly picked up, Nanami’s raspy voice came into sound. 

“Good evening, Y/N,” Nanami hums quietly, “how are you doing?” 

You felt yourself stiffen, “a-ah, good evening, Nanami! I’m well– and yourself?” 

“I’m doing well, thank you,” Nanami replies, his voice as smooth as butter. “What are you up to tonight?” 

You awkwardly pull at your holiday PJs and smile embarrassingly to yourself, “‘m home. Just finished ordering some dinner. Is um, is there anything you need, Nanami?” 

“Ah–” Nanami’s voice halts, the breath that follows filled with hesitance. “I didn’t want to alarm you, but I am at the lobby of your building.” 

You jumped, goosebumps raising all along your arms. “U-um, can I ask why?” 

“I, um…” Nanami’s voice streams off for a moment, heavy breathing ensuing. You assume it was because of the cold, and potentially the exhaustive walk over to your house. “It is a little embarrassing to admit, but my night is not going well.” 

“Oh?” You were surprised. You’ve never seen too much of Nanami’s emotions until recently, upon his acknowledgment and confession of his newfound feelings for you. It was strange to hear the twinge of sadness in his voice, and his reticence to admit his woeful feelings. “Is everything okay?” 

“Everything is okay,” Nanami confirms, “but the thought to come see you felt right.” 

A streak of red appears on your cheeks, “a-ah! Is that so…” 

“Of course, feel free not to invite me in,” Nanami hums quickly, “I can understand the inappropriateness and suddenness of me appearing at your building. I apologize for springing this onto you.” 

It’s true. You two were not dating, and weren’t near being official by any stretch. Nanami, just previously, was your boss, the person you looked up to. He signed your pay stubs and was the person who validated your work and relied on you to do his job well. He is not at the point to come to you and cry on your shoulder. It was simply the status quo not to do wifey things for someone who hasn’t even given you the title of girlfriend yet. 

But, this was Kento Nanami we were talking about. 

“Come upstairs,” you hum. You hang up, and look back to make sure your apartment was clean. Seeing that it was spotless, you quickly check yourself in the mirror, making sure your hair looks nice. Although you lamented not putting on at least some makeup, you were at that point in life where either he likes you as you are, or doesn’t and spares you that horror. You pull down your black sweatshirt, immediately realizing that it was not yours, but the one you borrowed from Tae. 

You let out a sigh. You washed his sweatshirt with the rest of your laundry, and then just assumed it was yours as it was in the pile. You rush to the kitchen to make a note to return the sweatshirt. As you finished the sentence, a quiet knock was heard at your door. Your feet quietly tip tap over, gently unlocking everything. As you opened the door, you were met with a bag of food in your face. 

“Hold this,” Nanami sounded, his large hand dangling the delicious smelling food before you. Your eyes lingered on Nanami, before looking over at the delivery man right behind him. 

You quickly put the food on the coat rack, and bow at the delivery man, “let me grab the money, please give me a moment.” As you prepare your stride, a cold hand grabs your forearm. You turn around to look up at Nanami, who gives you a small smile. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Nanami hums. He turns to the delivery man, takes out his wallet, and pulls out a large bill. “Thank you very much. Keep the change as your tip.” The delivery man beamed at his large tip, bowing contently at Nanami before rushing down the stairs. 

You could only stare at Nanami, as he let go of your arm to let himself in. He locks the door behind him, and begins to strip off his winter garments. He was… wearing glasses. You ogled at him, your heart strings being pulled at. His jaw was clenched, his breathing getting used to the sudden warmth of your home. His hair was once again messy, his body ornate in comfy clothing, very contrasting to his usual office get up. 

Nanami notices your eyes, and smirks, “never seen a blind man, Y/N?” 

“A-ah, I’m sorry for staring,” you quickly apologize, “I don’t see you in glasses often.” A strand of his hair lands on his forehead. 

“Ah, well,” Nanami’s entire body faces you entirely, and he pushes up his lens with his middle finger, “wearing contacts at night increases the risk of forgetting that they’re still on. I usually remove them the moment I get home.” 

Here’s the Nanami you know best, “that’s a good point.” 

You two stand in a bit of awkward silence before you look up at Nanami and gesture to the living room, “would you like a cup of tea?” 

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” 

He takes his seat on the couch while you bring your food over to the kitchen island. You quickly ignore it to put a water-filled kettle onto the stove. “Honey, sugar?” 

“Hold on both, thank you,” Nanami hums. 

You nod, quickly paying attention to your food. You look over at him awkwardly, “are you hungry? I had no idea that you would be coming, I would have ordered more food…” 

Nanami quickly raises his hand, “please, my visit was completely unprecedented. You couldn’t have prepared for it.” 

You quietly stare at him. You could see the distance in his eyes, his hands resting on his knees. One of his legs bounced with some sort of anxiety, his thumbs twiddling around one another. You noticed that he barely kept his gaze towards you, looking back down after each brief silence. It felt like there was a bubble around him that he wasn’t quite ready for you to pop yet. 

With a small smile, you bring out two plates and carry it with the bag of takeout. You join him on the couch, and quickly begin to unbag your food. Nanami only watched as you began to divide your food in half. He quickly sits up and holds your forearm gently, stopping you from continuing. “There is no need, please enjoy your meal, Y/N.” 

“Food always makes me feel better when I don’t really feel the best,” you hum quietly. You gently remove his hand from your arm and give him a curt smile. “We don’t have to talk about it.” 

He looks at you, grimacing a bit. You squeeze his hand reassuringly before putting it down to continue separating the food, “I hope you like stir fry with rice, ‘cause that’s what I got.”

Nanami could only stare at you with awe. There was something there that he couldn’t quite explain. A feeling. A semblance of safety, and some sort of nostalgia. As you divided the food in your comfy clothes, he couldn’t help but feel like it should have always been this way. He watched as you cut up a few of the vegetables and meat, and added extra gravy to his plate. 

“Y/N,” he starts with another futile attempt. 

You look over at him and smiled, “I have soda and beer. Which do you fancy more?” As you waited for his answer, you noticed the food was just warm. “Ah, let me microwave these a bit.” 

You carry the plates over to the kitchen and begin to microwave them, finding the opportunity to prepare his small cup of tea upon the boiling of the water. You prepare the herbs and bring it to him, the greens steeping in the water. He takes it from you gently, his eyes still glued to you as you go to the fridge and look over at him. “Have you decided?” 

He blinks for a few moments, “a beer, if you don’t mind.” 

You grab two beers and pop the caps with the bottle opener on your fridge. You join his side once again and place his beer on the available cup holder near him. Nanami’s hazel eyes stare at you, with your hand eagerly holding your beer, waiting to toast. He quickly puts the tea down and takes the beer in his hand, earning a few giggles from you. 

“Are you anxious, Nanami?” You asked, your voice breathy. “I have some oils I can burn if it’ll help put you at ease.” 

“No, no, it’s not that at all,” he begins quietly before he clinks his beer bottle with your own. You both take a swig. His Adam's apple protrudes alluringly, his bottom lip shining with the carbonated booze. “It’s just that…” Before he could finish, his eyes burned down at your sweatshirt. 

You join him and look down, searching for a stain, “ah, did I spill something already? I just washed this, and it’s not even mine…” 

“This isn’t your sweatshirt?” He had a hunch, but he wasn’t looking forward to being right. 

You nod, “it’s Tae’s, the barista you hired? He lent it to me when I was starting to get that bad cold I got recently.” 

“Ah.” It was the only word that came out of Nanami’s lips. He silently grabs your beer and puts both drinks down on the coffee table. As the ringing of the microwave sounded, you watched as Nanami stripped off his own sweatshirt (a beautiful navy blue shade) and put out one of his hands. You stare puzzled before you notice he begins to flick his middle finger, requesting the sweatshirt you were in. 

Obediently, you strip the sweatshirt off, feeling your cheeks warm from the Hello Kitty shirt you had underneath. But Nanami pays it no mind, his hazel eyes unwavering as he fixes his sweatshirt before pulling it over your head. He lets go, allowing you to pull down the sweatshirt. The immediate smell of green tea and hinoki wood intoxicates you, the scent of Nanami taking you over. You could get drunk from his smell, unable to contain the feelings in your heart. 

“Please feel free to ask me for warmth whenever you are cold,” Nanami instructs, his eyes satisfied with your new look. He reaches over your face, and pushes a strand of loose hair to the back of your ear. “This color suits you nicely.” 

You can feel your face go completely hot, “y-yeah?” 

“I’d like to see you wear my dress shirts someday,” he says with a cheeky smile. You then jump, your face completely flushed. Nanami searches your face, confused by your reaction. But he quickly bites his tongue, realizing his words slowly. “A-ah, I’m sorry Y/N– that was highly inappropriate.” 

“It’s fine! I think the food is ready!” You escape by rushing over to the microwave, slowly bringing over two steaming plates of food. You put both plates down and retrieve the remaining plastic utensils and condiments from the bag. Fixing his plate, you quickly gesture to his plate, giving him the go to eat. 

As he picks up the plate and fork, you quickly grab a few napkins from the bag and place it by him on the table. “I hope it’s not too hot,” you murmur quietly as you pick up your own plate. “I’ll wait for you to eat if you want it to cool down a little.” 

Nanami shakes his head, a small chuckle escaping his lips, “I can eat hot food, Y/N, don’t you worry.” 

“I have to worry about you, Nanami,” you say simply, “can’t do much about it now.” 

In this turn, Nanami felt his own heart skip a beat or two. He couldn’t help but stare at you adoringly. Despite not being able to talk about his woes, you didn’t force it out of him either. He never realized the power of companionship until he was here, eating half of your full meal, in your extremely warm apartment while you were in your PJs. He had always thought ethereal women always remained in the books of fairy tales. But then here you were, eating your food with your plate almost a little too close to your face so you didn’t spill and soil his sweater. 

“Mm!” You hummed with a mouth full of food. Quickly chewing and swallowing, you looked up at Nanami, “please tell me how much you gave the delivery man. Let me pay you back before you go.” 

Nanami looks down at you and shakes his head, silently turning to his food to begin eating. “Technically I am eating the food, therefore I owe for the meal as well.” 

You snort, “I offered you half, Nanami. So with your logic, I owe you half.” 

Nanami puts his plate down quietly. He picks up a napkin and dabs his lips clean before taking a swig of his beer. “Y/N, every time I come to your home, there seems to be a trend where bad things happen.” 

You look at him, your expression puzzled, “how do you mean?” 

“As in, every time I’ve come to visit, something unexpected happens, typically leading to something unideal for you,” Nanami says quietly. 

“Ah, please don’t say that,” you say in a sad tone, “it’s purely coincidence that everything has happened the way it has.” 

“Right, but now I think it’s true,” Nanami hums, looking over at you. There was an unwavering seriousness in his expression, his hazel eyes warm yet convincing. “It’s nothing bad, truly, but it is quite dangerous.” 

“What is?” You reply in a whisper. 

He leans over to you, his face beside yours, “my feelings for you are developing in such a way where I might accidentally skip a step or two in this relationship.” 

“H-huh?” You let out in a stammer. 

He backs away, but takes your hands into his own. He gives your hands a light squeeze, his smile capable of curing all woes you could have. “I have no intentions to rush this relationship,” Nanami begins, “once I make you mine, my intentions are to go at your pace completely. But I need you to understand that my feelings for you have progressed further than the current state of our relationship.” 

You eye him, feeling your face burn to a crisp. “A-are you trying to s-say that you…” Your eyes fall down to your legs, your heart unable to take this much feeling in the air. 

Nanami quickly chuckles, “maybe not that far, but I’m realizing now that I really do need you in my life. Because if you can make me feel better without addressing my sadness directly, then I believe I’ve always needed you in my life.” 

You felt your mind go stupid, your heart going into emotional cardiac arrest. “Nanami… anybody would do this for the person they care about.” Your voice was weak, quiet. You were always ready to undermine yourself. But Nanami will never be taken by it. 

“Right, but I’m glad I’m being cared about by you,” Nanami hums, “I don’t care about anybody when my eyes and heart are set on you.” 

You weren’t sure what was in the air, but considering Nanami’s hold on your hands and his adoration-filled eyes, you weren’t prepared for what was going to happen next. 

Taglist (OPEN)

@blossomedfloweroflove @numblytemporary @everyoneandtheirmothers @animechick555 @inthedarkshadows000

@m-arj-1 @julk4e @hadassery @swoozleee @angxlsatvrn

@v1x3n @s-witch-bitch @furgusonn @watyousayin @thechaoticarchivist

@simp-manhwa @5sos-wdw @ffyona1214 @phantombaby @evangel44xxcds

@ukiyodestiny @jasminelee324 @eurydxceorphxus @moonlightazriel @s3rp3ntsssc0ve

@dusty-dweller @wifenanami @bokuatsubro @ayesayman @starry-eyed--dreamer

@gradmacoco @nymphsdomain @whatelsecouldgowrong @myynameisbuckyy @nanamjai

@a-sor @typicalchels @celestialzdiviner @satoru-is-the-way @sannieworshipper

@shibataimu @galagcica @a-cloudy-dreamy-day @aporcelainphantom @monikosman1311

@fashionably-a-hippie

[justarkive]

THROUGH THE SMOKE | JJK

“You fell for Jeon Jungkook first, but he fell for bad habits harder.”

pairing: non!idol jungkook x f!reader

genre: est. relationship, angst, slight fluff, feeling sad today guys :( no smut today guys sorry for my freaks xoxo

warnings; death, smoking, bad habits, feels, super emotional reader.

this fic does not represent the real jungkook!

a/n: im very sorry for this yall but i read when she loved me and couldnt help but write something sad aswell. anyways! enjoy and grab a tissue lmaoo. (also for table 3 readers dw im cooking up ch10 just wanted to get this idea off of my mind loll)

wc: idk yall sorry but its short.

masterlist

You and Jungkook had been in love since preschool.

It wasn’t a cliché love story, even though it sounded like one. From the moment you met, you knew there was something undeniable between you two. Jungkook was the cute boy with the bright, innocent smile, a little too shy at first, his hair always sticking up in the most adorable way. You, on the other hand, were always loud, energetic, and full of questions. But somehow, as if the universe had arranged it, you two had been inseparable ever since.

It was your families who first brought you together, and it didn’t take long for the connection to grow. You both laughed at the same silly things, shared the same strange sense of humor, and understood each other in ways no one else could. School passed, and so did life’s little moments. From coloring in the back of the classroom to sneaking kisses behind the library, you knew him better than you knew yourself. Everyone always said, “You two will be the ones who never change, who stick together forever,” and in your naive, young hearts, you believed them.

High school came, and it was no different. You both walked the same halls, your fingers intertwined as if they had always been meant to fit together. Your friends all knew about your love, some teasing, others a little envious of how easy it seemed for you two. He was your first everything. Your first kiss. Your first date. The first person who truly saw you, all of you, and still stayed. You couldn’t have asked for more.

You were both passionate about art. You, with your paintbrushes, your sketchbooks, your endless love for creating. Jungkook with his camera, always snapping photos of the world around him, capturing everything with that beautiful perspective only he had. You spent hours together, creating things that were uniquely yours. You painted while he took photos of your work, and when you weren’t working on your art, you would lie together, talking about dreams, the future, the things you hoped for. You’d talk for hours until the world outside seemed irrelevant.

At sixteen, you finally admitted it—finally let the world know that you were a couple. Not that anyone had to guess. It was obvious. Your love was like the air, filling every room, every space between you two, unspoken yet constantly present.

But then, Jungkook started smoking.

Things started to change, slowly at first. It started with little things. Jungkook would come to see you, and the smell of cigarettes would linger on his clothes. At first, it didn’t bother you — he was just blowing off steam, right? Everyone had their way of coping. But then it started to be more than just an occasional puff. You’d find him lighting up in the car, after a tough day, or even while you both worked late into the night. He’d laugh it off, saying it helped him focus, that it was nothing serious. You’d tease him, roll your eyes, and tell him it would be the death of him. He’d smile that charming, lopsided smile and promise that he’d quit — but the promises always fell short.

And you loved him too much to force him to stop. You were happy, and for a while, you convinced yourself that the cigarette butts scattered in the ashtray were just a phase. It wasn’t until his health began to deteriorate that the reality hit you like a slap in the face. His coughing fits, the sudden weight loss, the way he could barely catch his breath after a short walk — it wasn’t just stress anymore. It was something serious. You didn’t want to face it. You never did. But deep down, you knew what was happening. And you couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud.

Now, here you were, sitting by his side in the sterile, lifeless hospital room. The machines beeped softly in the background, a constant reminder of how little time you had left.The scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mingling with the faint smell of his cigarette-laced skin, the smell you had once loved but now felt suffocating. His once-strong body, built from years of his obsession with the gym, was now frail, his skin pale and paper-thin. His hair, once the soft, dark brown you used to run your fingers through, was now thinning. And his eyes — they were no longer the bright, big, mischievous eyes that always seemed to sparkle with some kind of hidden joke. Now, they were tired, drained.

Jungkook, at the young age of 26, was dying. He wasn’t the same boy who made you laugh in high school, the one who would spend hours talking about his dreams of traveling the world with his camera. The once vibrant, lively man you knew had become a shadow, a husk of himself, barely able to move, his breathing shallow, his eyes flickering with exhaustion.

You couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t supposed to be how it ended. He wasn’t supposed to go before you, you’d always joked.

“I’ll get you out of here,” you said, your voice trembling, more to reassure yourself than him. “We’ll go to my house, and I’ll finish that painting we were talking about. We’ll make our own gallery. You’ll take the photos for it.”

He didn’t answer at first, just stared at you with those tired, loving eyes, and you could feel the lump in your throat grow. His lips parted as if he wanted to speak, but no sound came out. He reached up slowly, his hand trembling as he traced your face, a gesture so familiar it made your heart ache.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You smiled softly, tracing his features in return, your fingertips lingering on his tattoos, the ones you had helped design. His arm was covered in them—symbols of your shared memories. You remembered the flutter in your stomach when he asked you to help him design the first one. You had laughed at the idea at first but had spent nights sketching together, dreaming about the future you would share.

But now, the future seemed so far away, like a distant dream you were never going to wake up from.

“I love you so much, Jungkook,” you whispered, feeling the tears start to fall despite your best efforts to hold them back. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

Jungkook could barely talk now, his breaths shallow and labored, but you didn’t care. You filled the silence with words, words he couldn’t hear, but words you needed to say anyway. You talked about everything—the future, what you’d do when he got better, when this was all just a bad dream. You didn’t care if he couldn’t respond. You wanted to believe it, to believe that this wasn’t real, that this wasn’t how your story ended.

“We were going to get an apartment together, remember?” You chuckle lightly, a shaky sound that doesn’t reach your eyes. “And we were going to take that road trip across the country, go to those art galleries we always wanted to see… We were going to be fine, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t respond, but you see his lips twitch slightly, and for a second, you think you imagined it. He always hated when you cried, when you got too emotional. He’d hold you, tease you, tell you to pull yourself together. But not now. Now, he let you talk, let you believe in the dream you wanted so badly to keep alive.

Your fingers graze his lip ring, the one you’d convinced him to get. You laugh softly, though the sound is broken, fragile. “I remember when you asked me to help you pick that out. You were so nervous about it. ‘What if it doesn’t look good?’ you kept asking. And now it’s… part of you.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, and maybe he’s too tired, too weak to respond. But you keep going, keep talking, as if every word you say could somehow delay the inevitable. As if you could make the universe listen.

“I thought we’d grow old together, you know? We’d be that couple, the one who never let go. You were supposed to be my forever.”

The night passes slowly. You sit beside him, never leaving his side. You trace every inch of his face, memorizing the way he looks right now, in this moment, in case it’s the last time you see him like this.

Jungkook kisses your forehead, his lips cold against your skin. ���I love you.”

His eyes soften, and he gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, as if to say he understood, as if to reassure you that it was okay, that he would be okay. But you both knew the truth. He wouldn’t be okay.

You stayed up with him all night, holding his hand, talking about all the things you had planned for your future. Even though you both knew that future was never going to come, you couldn’t stop yourself from dreaming.

His breathing grew more labored as the night went on, and you could feel the coldness of his hand against yours, the warmth slowly slipping away.

“Will we still be able to talk in the morning?” he finally asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. He’s tired. You know it. But Jungkook loved you so much he was trying to hold on. Stay up and be with you for his last night.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. What could you say? You knew the answer, but you couldn’t say it aloud. Instead, you squeezed his hand, holding onto him as tightly as you could, hoping that if you just held on, maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

But it wasn’t.

You let him sleep, finally. The exhaustion of his short lived life of bad habits catches up to him, but you couldn’t sleep. Not during this, not while listening to his wheezing while he drifted in and out. Not while feeling his weak arms tighten and loosen around your waist like he’s clutching onto your memory in his dreams. Not while trying to drag out the night as much as you possibly could.

But at some point, you must’ve drifted off to sleep, because when you wake up, it’s morning. The sun is peeking through the blinds, casting soft light across the room. Jungkook’s still here. Still breathing, but not for long.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you sit up, taking his hand in yours, gripping it tightly, trying to hold on to the person who’s slipping away.

His eyelids flutter, and you lean down close to him. “Please.”

His eyes open briefly, just enough for you to see the smile, faint but there, tugging at his lips. He’s too weak to speak, but you see it. The love. The understanding. The goodbye.

You lean down, pressing your lips against his forehead, and it feels like everything you’ve ever known is shattering.

“I love you,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I always will.”

And then, just like that, the room falls silent.

Jungkook takes his last breath, his hand going limp in yours. And all you could do was sit there, numb, your heart shattered into a million pieces. The love of your life, the one person you had known since childhood, was gone.

Everything had gone wrong.

And all you could do was hold onto the memories—the memories of the boy you had loved since preschool, the boy who had stolen your heart and never given it back.

But now, you were left alone.

You don’t cry out. You don’t scream. You just hold him, even when the nurses come in to the still buzz of the machine, even when they try to pry you off of his lifeless body, knowing that he was finally at peace, and that you would never be the same without him.

[hkkuugu]

tattoo • billie eilish

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a/n = my first full fic guysss im so sorry if this is bad i haven't written in so longg , hopefully this is good for you guys!!! also please keep in mind this is my first time writing smut so please cut me some slack 💕

summary = in which billie comes home with an innocent surprise , which then takes a completely different turn

warnings = a bit of fluff (i think) , smut!! , fingering , sub!billie (or switch idk) , dom!fem!reader , not proofread!!

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billie left early in the morning , saying she had an emergency meeting to do , whilst you were in doing things around your shared house.

music blasted to help ease the silence that filled the room , you were washing the dishes , not aware of your surroundings. the front door's lock opening , billie entered looking suspicious as if shes got something going on.

"ive got a surprise for youuu" her voice was heard , sounding all giddy and happy

"oh god what is it now"

"well its a surprise for a reason" she winked , you rolled your eyes jokingly , scared and excited to see what it is

-

hours passed by and you're both getting ready for bed

billie decided to take a shower before sleeping whilst you were doing your skincare

she slipped her shirt off and you noticed something on her back that looked like scribbles , something you've never seen before

"bils what's that on your back?" hint of curiosity lacing your voice

"what do you mean there's nothing there" she played dumb , acting as if there's nothing new at all

"babe did you actually just get a new tattoo"

"maybe i did maybe i didn't" teasing you and still acting dumb

"i love it it looks hot" you stared at the tattoo for a good minute whilst billie was staring at your face through the bathroom mirror , clearly wanting you to do something

wild and crazy thoughts running through your mind , and it was pretty obvious that you were thinking about something , so much so that billie noticed your flushed face

"oh yea? how about instead of staring at it you actually do something"

you forcibly teared your eyes away from the tattoo and looked into her now dark eyes , filled with lust and neediness

you approached her , hungrily, needing to please her so bad

billie breaks eye contact to turn around and face you , tracing every movement you make towards her

as soon as you reach her , she grasps you harshly , slamming her lips onto yours. making out hungrily

your tongue entered her mouth to which she gladly accepts and you both continue making out until she moves to catch her breath

"fuck me." she whispered breathlessly , smirking at your reaction

you reconnected your lips , dragging her to your shared room and pushed her onto the bed. she moaned at how harshly you pushed her. you started kissing down her body , from her jaw to neck and in between her chest.

she sighed, finally relieved at having you touching her but she needed more. way more than you were giving her.

you kissed down her stomach until you reached right above of where she needed you. she moved her hips trying to hint at what she wanted.

you took the hint and silently asked for permission to remove her sweats to which she said yes to. you removed the remaining of the clothes she had on and spread her legs , revealing how wet she was

"is this how you were the entire day?"

"please , please touch me" her whines and pleases were music to your ears. you decided to not tease her today and to please her instead

you touched her core , spreading them with your two fingers. she whimpered quietly as you softly inserted your finger , letting her adjust to the feeling

as soon as she nodded her head letting you know you can move now , you immediately started thrusting your finger in and out , the sounds of her moaning and her pussy was heard filling the room

you inserted another finger , she let out a loud moan and started shaking a bit. you flipped her onto her stomach to see her tattoo

it made you think wild things , wild things that you want to do to her

"faster please"

you increased your pace and added another finger , which totalled up to three fingers

she arched her back , clenching around your digits showing that she's close

"im so close please- plea-" she let out choked moans and started mumbling things , she didn't have the energy to speak out loud

"cum for me baby" you whispered into her ear , giving her permission to cum

and she did. her legs shaking and letting out moans which got louder and louder , you helped her come down from her high. she laid down for a bit , catching her breath

you moved up towards her , placing kisses all over her to show how proud you were of her. you both cuddled up together , none of you guys speaking until you broke the silence

"you okay baby?" you started to get up , to get her cleaned up and all cared for

"yea i am just tired" you smirked at her response knowing that you did good

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@hkkuugu

[gloxk]

Priorities.

(Eren Yeager)

A/N: I need eren so bad it’s not even funny. 😾. Anyway im almost at 100 followers (which omg ik it’s not a ‘lot’ but i literally didn’t expect this account to go anywhere so..TYSM! 🙀🫶🏽! ) This is a lil sum short to show my appreciation! and yes im sorry it was rushed.

Summary: It’s not nice to tease your boyfriend durning a heated match. You had to learn that the hard way.

smut, unprotected s*x, creampie, pet names (ma) , dry humping, etc+ w/c: 0.8k

smut under the cut!!!

You watched as your boyfriend’s fingers spam control buttons. He was on the game playing with his friends. Playing with anything other than your clit was ridiculous. Especially since you were sitting there so pretty for him. He was raging because Armin was already on his 17th kill. You walked up behind your boyfriend trailing kisses down his neck. He turned his face looking you up and down. His Jade eyes admired your body. “Hmm?” his lips turned into a sly smile. His eyes never leaving yours. He gave you a quick kiss. His soft lips pressed against yours. lip gloss coated his mouth. “I’ve been waiting all night Eren. C'mon.” it was obvious he didn’t want to get off the game. Not until he beat Armin. “Chill, one more round and I’m done. for real.”

How many times was he going to say that? It’s been one more round for the past twenty minutes. He was dead set on beating Armin. You just accepted that he wasn’t going to leave without a fight. He patted his thigh signaling you to sit down. To be fair you would much rather sit on his face but this was fine. He nuzzled into your neck giving you gentle kisses. You couldn’t help but notice his growing bulge that you perched yourself upon. it was like your clit had a mind of its own. you rubbed against his bulge, slightly—rocking your hips side to side. His game continued but his breath hitched in every other sentence. Your slight movement got more noticeable as you moved a little bit faster. He must have noticed because he started to grind against you. His pace slowly increased going faster and faster. It was no longer a subtle whine against your ass but instead more of a deliberate hip thrust, making you slightly bounce. You continued to grind against his sweatpants. You could tell he was getting needy—his hands a little bit more sweaty, his breath getting a little erratic. He was getting desperate grinding a little harder against you. “I’m going to sleep.” yawing, you tried to move off of him, but to no avail. His grip around your waist made it impossible. “Nah, go ahead and rethink that ma,” he growled in your ear sending a small tingle down your spine. He threw his headset on the floor turning his full attention to you. “What you thought you were gonna tease me and walk away? That’s funny.”

You were bent over the desk with ease, he rubbed your clit through your yoga pants. “Did ya wear this f’me?” the answer was yes—yes you did wear those just for his eyes. To analyze how good your ass looked in the pretty pink yoga pants he bought you. “Mhm.” you moaned, his fingers speeding up at your answer. His hands grabbed your waist pulling you against his abdomen. “Fuck���you make me go crazy.” You arched your back at his words. They repeated over and over in your head. His voice was low and deep, the right combination to have you soaking. He yanked down your pants leaving you in your underwear. His fingers traced your pretty pink thong, he rubbed the bottom feeling how wet you were. You heard his low chuckle, “Damn ma how long have you been wanting me to fuck ya? Well too bad we ain’t got a condom.” you barely had time to comprehend what he said before he rammed into you. His thrusts were slow at first, deep and sensual. You held on to the edge of the desk digging your nails into it. Some pictures and other decor fell off as his pace increased. The melodic sound of your moans filled the room, accompanied by the sound of skin colliding. His thrust became more aggressive as his palm wrapped around your throat. The sensation of your airways being restricted made your mind fog. All you could focus on was his movements, every single stroke. His fingertips danced over your clit, making you clench around him. His chest pressed against your back, he hovered over your ear. His breathing infiltrated your ears, inhale, exhale. “All mine.” his palm left your throat and clawed your hips driving himself in faster.

You yelped as his nails scratched off skin. it was overwhelming, his fingers, his thrusts, his words, everything about him. You couldn’t hold on anymore. You felt your eyes roll back—moaning his name as you came. He didn’t stop plowing into your throbbing pussy. Watching you twitch at the overstimulation. “Eren—fuck—I can’t!” You tried to push him away with your hand, in an instant it was pinned behind your back. “Nah, ma you can take it. I know you can.” He was bringing you to another orgasm whether you wanted it or not. You decided to tease him, this was all your fault. It was your fault you were getting fucked like a stupid slut. Actions have consequences, if you don’t want the consequences don’t do the actions to cause them. “Fuck m’ almost there.” his thrust slowed giving you deep strokes, the kind of strokes that you tell your friends about. He threw his head back biting his lip. A sudden wave of warmth filled you, coating your walls. Liquid dripped down your leg, your face was plastered with a look of terror. You turned around slowly to meet Eren's gaze. “What’s wrong ma? You don’t want me to make you a mommy?” He gave you long strokes, fucking his cum into you. A single thought couldn’t be evaluated in your scrambled mind, you incoherently mumbled out “Mhm…make me a mommy.” He gave you a few kisses before picking you up and laying you down on the bed. He went back to playing his game as if nothing happened, you listened to him spill profanities as you fell unconscious.

You would absolutely regret your decision in the morning but it didn’t matter now <3.

♡──────────────────♡

[staycait]

⊹ 　 ﹒ 　 ❝ 　a losers secret ⠀⊹⠀˚⠀ ౨ৎ

𝜗𝜚 ┈ loser!scara x shy!fem!reader ㅤ ✦

𝐈. ──ㅤ youre the good and shy girl of the school, everyone knows you and everyone likes you, you consider everyone a friend, even the loser that sits in the back of the class. but what happens if you, the most well-liked good girl, gets paired up with the most hated loser in school ?

𝐈𝐈. ──ㅤ mentions of fingering , overstimulation , cream pie , raw sex , mentions of markings , little bits of degradation 'n praise, reader is very shy and gets nervous easily , reader is inexperienced , reader is innocent , breeding kink , && corruption kink .

𝐈𝐈𝐈. ──ㅤ nsfw , smut , english is not my first language, please forgive me , proofread , fluffy yet suggestive ending .

﹒ thoughts ; hope u guys enjoy this ,, its been months since i was active here and im trying to get back here because ive been starving yall </3 . btw , reqs are open ! feel free to req anything . :) what do we think of new theme tho? it keeps changing 😭 .. and ngl this fic kinda sucks. ☹️☹️ but yeah i hope u guys still like this even if it’s horrible!

> story right under the cut <

SCARAMOUCHE is the typical loner you’d see in your class, black jacket with the hoodie over his head, headphones on, is at the back of the class, and much more. there were rumors that he murdered someone, that he does drugs, and the list goes on. no one likes him—in fact, everyone hates him.. almost everyone hates him.

for your english project, you got paired up with scaramouche. after the teacher announced who would be paired with who, everyone in your class came up to you, telling you how much sympathy they have for you, that how sorry they are for you, and telling you ‘good luck with dealing with him’.

you were confused, what was so bad about scaramouche? sure there were rumors, but if they don’t evidence that they did those stuff, you have no reason to believe in the rumors. you felt so bad for him, he already had no one by his side, and the entire school hates him.

you went up to scaramouche, he immediately notices your presence and looks up at you with an indifferent expression on his face, yet he looked awfully tired.. he took off his headphones and he stared to speak,

“what? here to bully me for having no friends?” you hear him scoff, a frown plays on his lips as he brings his gaze to the floor.

hearing his words made you protest, you would never bully anyone, or even hurt a fly !

“n-no! of course not..” you stammered.

you fiddle with your fingers in nervousness. you always get nervous whenever you talk to new people or when people assume things about you, a slight blush creeps up your cheeks as you think about his words.

the indifference immediately leaves scaramouche’s face once he notices your blushing. he stares at you for a moment before a huge smirk appears on his face.

“ah, so you’re not like all the others?” scaramouche tilts his head back and chuckles.

“huh..?”

you take a seat next to scaramouche’s chair and you bring it closer to him.

“what do you mean by that..?”

“everyone else treats me like i’m sort of monster or freak. you, however, seem different from everyone.”scaramouche leans back in his chair.

“well, you don’t seem like a freak or a monster..”

you were growing increasingly nervous, and as an attempt to calm yourself down, you look down to your lap to hide your nervous and red face and grip the hem of your skirt. you never thought someone would assume you’d bully them— let alone think that you think of them as a freak or a monster!

you can’t help but notice that scaramouche’s eyes trail down to your legs. it’s quite unnerving, and your short skirt doesn’t help much with that either.

as a way to snap out of his thoughts, scaramouche shakes his head and sighs.

“are you just saying that to be nice? what about me isn’t freaky?”

“u-uhm… you seem like a normal person. you look.. um.. cool too..?”

scaramouche looks back at you and raises his eyebrows.

“oh yeah? you think I’m cool?”

you notice him shifting slightly, leaning toward you.

“then, you surely don’t mind me getting closer, right?”

your blush gets heavier the moment you feel scaramouche leaning in closer to you.

“no… not at all.”

scaramouche grins at your response and scoots even closer to you.

“then is it okay if…” he trails off, and his voice gets husky as he leans in. you feel something touch your leg, you look over to see his hand resting on your thigh.

“i suppose so..”

scaramouche’s eyes light up after hearing you agree. you could feel him plant his lips on your neck; a few gentle kisses on your skin.

“how about if i…” scaramouche places a finger along the hem of your short skirt.

a small whimper escapes your lips, you don’t know how to feel about being this close this to someone, you had never been this close or intimate with anyone.

“is it alright for me to… lift your skirt up?”

your eyes widened, you weren’t sure how you’d respond to that, but, if you were going to be honest, scaramouche was making you feel hot down there..

his words made you feel tingly and horny, but his gaze was what was making your panties damp and wet.

“can we.. go to a private room first?”

…who knew it was so easy for you to fall right into scaramouche’s trap?

after successfully making the teacher believe that scaramouche he was taking you to the clinic, he brought you to his dorm, and next, to his bedroom.

SCARAMOUCHE had you on a tight mating press, your clothes on the floor with bits of your orgasm stained onto it. (it got to your clothes because scaramouche had fingered you until you squirted all over the place.)

how could scaramouche have resisted himself? you looked so innocent, and so corruptible, he just had to get his hands on you.

scaramouche groans as he feels your walls clamping down on him for the ‘nth time. it was a sign you were about to have another orgasm, another sign was when your moans get higher-pitched.

the feeling of scaramouche’s cock mercilessly ramming into you was agonizingly pleasurable. you couldn’t think of anything else but him and his cock, your body couldn’t help but just have orgasm after orgasm.

you held tightly onto his shoulders, clinging onto him as if your life had depended on it. scaramouche’s dick was bruising your cervix, fucking you into the mattress, and possibly trying to fuck your brains out.

“does it feel nice being reduced to nothing but a whore?”

scaramouche grabs a handful of your hair, staring at your messy and slutty state. the way you looked so disheveled, the way you were gasping for breath, the way you gave up trying to keep up with scaramouche’s quick and brutal pace.

you looked so helpless and vulnerable under him, his cock ramming into you and you have no choice but to take it like the good girl you are.

“answer me, you whore.”

scaramouche speaks to you with a stern voice, in which you immediately nod your head.

he smirks, letting go of your hair. he speeds up his thrusting, bringing one of his hands down from your waist to your clit, rubbing slow circles on it. you felt the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter until,

finally, with just one more snap of scaramouche’s hips, you both reach your intense climax and cum together.

scaramouche continues to sloppily thrust into you, however, it’s much much slower, he continues to thrust until he comes into a full stop.

“oh fuck, you felt so good..”

you both lay there panting, with scaramouche still on top of you. he stares at all the hickeys and bite marks he left on your neck (he also left a lot on your thighs.), feeling proud he had his markings left on you.

“scara..?”

scaramouche snaps out of the daze he was in while he was staring at the markings he left on you—he immediately looks up at you and responds back.

“what is it?”

“can we do things like this… more often?..”

scaramouche chuckles, finding your shyness even after all the rough sex you two just had adorable.

“hmm.. sure.”

[cindyss]

you’ll never be done with me

mattheo riddle x female reader

1.8k words

smut!!

You walked through the door to possibly one of the worst nights you would ever experience. You and mattheo were fake dating, even though he was insufferable, but he wanted to get back at his cheating ex, and you wanted get to know people more since he was quite popular, you weren’t.

Your class arranged an overnight trip to a lake, and since no one knew you were fake dating, you were stuck with him in a motel room all alone. And to add to your luck, you were welcomed by one double bed.

After a long trip to make it here, you were exhausted and all you wanted was to sleep. “Great, we have to share a fucking bed now” you protested. “Yeah, thats great” mattheo smirked playfully from next to you.

You rolled your eyes and put your suitcase on the floor, opening it and picking out your pajamas for the night. “Im going to shower so you can get dressed here” mattheo announced picking up his own clothes and heading to the bathroom.

By the time you got changed and did your skincare, you were almost sweating because of how hot it was. You were able to locate the AC remote and tried to turn it on but it just wouldn’t work.

Ringing the reception, you spoke “i’m sorry, but our AC isn’t working” “i am so sorry ma’am but we don’t have anyone we can send to you at this late hour, but i promise we’ll have it fixed first thing in the morning tomorrow. I just need your room number and what section you’re in”.

You gave the receptionist the information she needed and as you laid down on the bed, mattheo got out of the bathroom, all the steam from his shower following him.

“God, fuck!” you said as the room grew hotter. “So when do you plan on turning the AC on?” he asked. You turned to look at him, he only had his towel wrapped dangerously low around his waist, his abs were out and his v line was showing.

He snapped you out of your thought, “stop staring and answer me” he said. “I’m not staring! The AC isn’t working and they said they can’t send someone to fix it, we’ll have to wait till tomorrow”.

He smacked his lips together, nodding. “okay then” he went back into the bathroom, got changed and got out again. By that time, you were almost falling asleep when you felt him slump next to you.

You opened your eyes wide “what do you think you’re doing? You’re not going to sleep next to me, shirtless too!” “too bad its too hot in here, i don’t mind you removing your top too you know” he smirked smugly.

You rolled your eyes at him, shoving a pillow to act as a barrier between the both of you. “Are you fucking kidding me, this barely fits us both, you’re adding a barrier too?” “yes, mattheo, a barrier too”. “god, at least ask for my approval first-“ you cut him off sighing loudly.

“mattheo will you shut up oh my god, its so hot in here, my clothes are sticking to me and annoying me and you’re-“ “then take them off” mattheo said smirking. “piss of riddle” you said turning around so that your back was facing him.

after a few minutes of silence, the boy spoke once again “are you asleep yet?”

“no i’m trying to die”

“why?”

you flipped so that you were now laying on your back “because you’re next to me”

"What? You prefer it more if you are under me?" In one movement he was hovering over me. "As you wish."

“Mattheo, what the fuck” you gasped as your breath caught in your throat.

“are you mad at me?”

“i’m always mad at you”

“no you’re not grumpy mad today you’re mad mad, what did i do wrong?”

“who was that girl, that you carried the bag for?”

“she was no one”

“riddle, who was she I’m serious.”

“I’m serious too, she was a no one”

“I'm done playing games with you. One day you tell me you want to fake date to make your ex get back with you, and the next day you’re helping some girl with her luggage while there are plenty of more boys who were present”

“I didn’t see you as the jealous type, no complaints though, its looks good on you” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Mattheo take things seriously for once in your life!” you exclaimed angrily. His expression then changed, from cocky and arrogant to serious and somewhat angry.

“Is that what you think we’re doing? Playing games?”

“Then what is it? Am i just a toy to you? A girl you can call your girlfriend and then you go and flirt with all the other girls around? Do you even care about your ex or is this just some dumb fucking act so you could have a girlfriend you can cheat on whenever you want because you’re bored?”

“You think you’re a toy to me?”

“well it sure seems like it”

“fuck you’re so clueless”

“try to talk to me for once in your life properly instead of all these riddles you make me feel like i’ve fucking lost it”

“you’ve already made me lose it! Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me? How it feels to sit near you, to hear you voice every day?”

“see, you speak nonsense! I’m done with you!”

“You’ll never be done with me” he announced, grabbing you by your throat, swallowing your next breath in his mouth.

As your lips connected in a heated kiss, your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling his face closer.

he slips his tongue inside your mouth, exploring every inch he could reach. after you break the kiss, breathless yet wanting more, mattheo’s lips travel to your neck kissing your sensitive skin, down to your collarbone.

your hands wrap around his strong, muscular arms as he nibbles and bites on your skin.

“Y/n tell me to stop please.”

“I don't want you to stop Mattheo.”

“Then lie. Lie to me please. If I keep kissing you right now then I'm going to kiss you tomorrow & the next day & the next day-”

“I. Said. Don't. Stop.”

With your approval, mattheo wrapped his fingers around your shirt, pulling it over your head and throwing it to the floor. your bare chest was now exposed to him since you weren’t wearing a bra.

“You wanted this didn’t you princess?” he smirked.

“Well, me sleeping with no bra on is like you sleeping with no shirt on.”

“oh so you didn’t want this”

“well maybe i wanted it a little bit” you giggled as he dived in between your breasts, leaving kisses between them.

he took one of your nipples in his mouth, as your fingers found home in his chocolate hair. he teased your other nipple with his fingers, making your back arch, as your body pressed against his.

he used his free hand to push you down gently before he moved to your other nipple, pleasuring it similarly as you whimpered under his touch. “mattheo- you tease”.

his smugness showed when he smirked as he once again connected you lips, pulling your pants and panties down in one go.

wasting no time, he lowered his own pants and boxers, throwing them to the floor to lay beside your other clothes.

then, adjusting himself on top of you, he slowly lowered his organ into you, causing you to moan at his large size. he took your mouth in a kiss to stop your moans from escaping as he continued to bury himself deep into you.

once you were able to adjust to his size, he began thrusting in and out of you, earning gasps and whimpers from you as you arched your back, your stomach pressing against his.

“god, mattheo!!” he smirked, leaving love bites all over your neck and collarbone. “deeper, riddle, i want to feel you deeper.”

he pulled out of you, turned you around and spread on your legs further open. He placed a pillow under your stomach, “I’m going to fuck you until your arms can’t hold you anymore and the only thing supporting you is this stupid fucking barrier pillow that’ll hold your butt high for me.”

he then once again pushed inside you, as you bit into the bed sheets, your moans muffled. Your fingers gripping onto the sheets, hanging for dear life, Mattheo continued thrusting inside of you, his hand gliding under your stomach, pressing you against him.

You eventually came screaming his name into the pillow as your elbows gave up, your face crashing into the bed sheet in front of you.

“We’re not done yet princess.” He spoke, he used the hand that was under you to lift you up slightly, then, with one swift move, two of his fingers were inside you.

He began ruthlessly pumping them inside you, as your toes curled, he then added a third fingers as your elbows wobbled, struggling to stay still as move muffled moans and whimpers escaped your lips.

“Come on baby I know you have another one in you” he said, admiring you from behind, “you’re being too loud y/n” “f..fuck you riddle” you struggled to speak.

He then used the hand that was supporting your stomach to your jaw, forcing your head to tilt. He moved his cock toward your lips saying “open up” and to his command, you responded by opening your mouth wide.

He pushed his length inside your mouth, as you took almost all of it in the first go, you then began sucking, twirling and twisting your tongue around his dick.

Tasting your remaining cum on him, your eyes shut tight, tears fighting to slip from your eyes. “Oh fuck, youre so good at this.”

The boy spoke, watching his fingers pumping inside of you as you sucked his cock. “You look so perfect like this, finally putting that annoying mouth of yours to good fucking use.”

You hum in response, to involved in the satisfaction to bark back, then finally you feel yourself close, clenching around Mattheo’s fingers as you come once again.

“i knew it, but you could’ve at least warned me, oh shit” he’s interrupted when he feels himself close. As he keeps fucking your mouth, his tip suddenly hits the back of your throat making you gag.

That sends him over the edge as he spills his cum inside your mouth, carefully watching you swallow. Then, the both of you lay naked next to each other on the bed,

“I never hated you, you know” he confessed.

“Too bad, I did” you giggled.

“Fuck you” he said, clearly uninterested in your response.

“Round 2?”

“Bet”.