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reidrum · 3 months ago

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one of me is cute, but two though?

A/N: …no explanation for this i fear. probably ovulating again. stream short n sweet, happy kinktober !

cw: *cracks knuckles* smut 18+ minors dni, softdom!spence, fingering, oral (m receiving), breeding kink, praise kink, marking?, cr**mp*e, edging, aftercare, pet names, mentions of hypothetical pregnancy, fem!reader, a very real research paper that i actually looked up and read, this is filth but at least it’s prn with plot!

wc: 3.2k

summary: spencer can’t wait to have kids with you, in fact he wants to start right now

i love feedback! and talking to people!!! especially about spencer!!! pls interact with me it would make my entire existence okay thank you also this isn’t proofread

Spencer having baby fever wasn’t new to anyone, as the godfather of two of his closest friends’ children and known to be a crowd favorite to the kids at parties, he always had a longing desire to have children of his own to love and raise.

He’ll admit that at the start of your relationship he didn’t know how far the two of you would go, what kind of future was out there for you both. But the more you integrated into his life, his routine, his values, the more he knew for certain he would spend the rest of his life with you.

That brings you to today, you and Spencer were having an errands day making stops at the grocery store and target. As you’ve finished shopping around you both stand in line to checkout, and you’re standing behind a mother holding her little baby staring at you with her big green eyes. Your face melts as you coo gently at the baby, making silly faces and enjoying her little giggles.

A completely normal moment for you, but absolutely world changing moment for Spencer. It’s like something turns primal in him watching you play with the baby. Suddenly he’s picturing you rocking cradles at night, taking your kids—his kids—out to the park, how you’d look with a round belly carrying his child.

He looks at you with an adoration fueled by need, as in he needs to get you home right now before he attacks you in the middle of target.

A gently nudge pulls him from his daydream, “Hey, you okay? Lost you for a second.”

He shakes his head and steps forward to place the items on the conveyor belt and goes up to pay, “Yeah, no I’m okay.” he says mindlessly swiping his card and grabbing the bags.

You furrow your brows and walk to the car, tabling his weird behavior for another time to discuss, “I’m too hungry to question whatever that was right now, can we get pho?”

“Sure, baby. Whatever you want.” He wraps an arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your head before getting into the driver’s seat, absentmindedly still thinking about what your little ones would look like.

After you get lunch it’s a short drive home, but Spencer can’t help but wonder how the hell he got to this point. He wanted children with you, and yet you weren’t even married, not even close to it. You had just moved in with him only a few months ago, but he’s still firm in knowing he wants to spend forever with you.

You open the door to the house, Spencer following behind imagining little footsteps pattering throughout the house, a mini you and mini him. He’s so into his daze he doesn’t see the dining table and bangs his hip against it.

He groans in pain as you rush into the room, “Are you okay? I heard a bang.”

“No, I’m fine I just hit my hip.” He winces in pain.

The suspicion from earlier rises again and you can’t help but bluntly ask, “What is going on with you? You’re being spacey and weird with me. If it’s something I did please tell—“

“Do you want kids?” he blurts out interrupting you.

Your eyes widen, “Wh—what?”

Spencer’s eyes widen too, why the hell did he just say that? “I—um…Okay, not as in right this second. But, is that…something you’d want in the future?”

You pause for a few seconds before speaking softly, “Yeah, it is.”

“Okay. Cool.” He tries to say as nonchalantly as someone who downed an espresso shot.

Then it all starts to click for you, the lingering touches, the looks at the store when you’d see little babies, on walks in the park he’d stare into the playground.

“Spencer…do you… want to have kids…with me?” You ask so softly he subconsciously moves closer to hear you better.

He tries to pull every psychology and behavior tactic he can to read the expression on your face, to decipher what you’re truly feeling, but he comes up empty and is left to grapple with the emotions of the moment on his own.

“Are you mad?”

“Mad? Oh baby, no I’m not mad. Just a little surprised, I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” You move to stand right in front of him at arm’s length, to let him know you’re right there, that you’re always there.

“How could I not? You are so beautiful, kind, and smart. I think I’d be the luckiest dad in the galaxy if my kids turned out like you.” He says softly, grabbing your hand to thumb at the palm in a soothing manner, more to calm his nerves than yours but it’s really working both ways. You couldn’t look any softer to him than right then.

He continues, “I’m sorry if I made things awkward, but I love you, and I want a future with you. House, kids, taxes, all of it.”

You fake gasp, “Even taxes?”

“Especially taxes,” He smiles as he plays into your dramatics, “Like I said, I don’t mean right now. I know there’s like thirty steps we have to take before then. But I’m here for all of it.”

“Spence…” You tearfully smile, “I love you, and I want all of it too.”

Spencer couldn’t be more happy as he slowly leans in to kiss you, lingering so you know just how happy he is. He pulls back and peppers kisses all over your face while you giggle, “Okay, okay!”

He presses one last big kiss on your forehead, cartoonish noise and all, and he wraps you up in his arms tightly.

“So…did something happen today that made you tell me?” You ponder. Of course you’d been thinking about a future with Spencer. but you didn’t know that he felt the same way, and so seriously at that.

He mumbles into your shoulder, “You were playing with that baby in the Target checkout line. And I’m not kidding, all day I couldn’t stop thinking about what you’d look like carrying our child.”

You grin wickedly, “You really wanna knock me up that bad, huh?”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea the restraint I had today to not pounce on you in the middle of the store. I would have risked the life ban in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah?” You glide your finger down his chest, “What did you wanna do?”

Spencer smirks, seeing the game you’re playing. “Well, I was thinking about this book I read on the best positions for maximum fertility.”

“So you read porn—“

“It’s not porn!” He chuckles, “It’s a real scientific study they did in Cambridge about if different positions induce fertility due to the variances in angle of the male ejaculation, and whether it would increase the rate of fertilization. It was actually really fascinating. They had the subjects do it inside the MRI machine.”

You can’t help but feel flustered, “I can't believe that turned me on.”

“I also know that you’re ovulating right now, so all your sexual senses are heightened.”

“I know I should find that funny, but it’s actually so fucking hot that you know that.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders to bring his head closer to your ear as you whisper, “Wanna go try them out?”

Spencer’s eyes darken and he immediately reacts, “Jump.” holding your thighs up so you can wrap your legs around his waist. You giggle a little above his head, cupping it with both hands as you lean down to kiss him while he walks to your bedroom.

He tosses you onto the bed with a squeal before working his shirt off, watching you slowly peel your own shirt off and shimmy out of your pants leaving you bare in a bra and panties.

He lets out a groan, “I think you’re trying to kill me.” He climbs over your body and leans down to attack your neck, one hand holding one of yours above your head the other trailing its way down. A finger traces the outline of your panties, pressing down on the wet patch near your entrance.

You moan languishly and he smirks at your reaction, “I got you, okay baby? Gonna make you feel so good.”

His finger finally slides past the fabric and makes contact with your cunt, gathering the slick and spreading it all over you. Breathless moans escape you, and by the time you’re used to one finger the fucker adds another finger and rests his thumb on your clit drawing soft circles.

The feeling of his fingers sliding so easily in and out of you is terrifyingly intoxicating, and you can’t seem to get enough. He can feel you squeezing his fingers and by your increased moans he knows you’re close, “C’mon pretty girl, you can do it.”

The little praise he gives you is enough to send you over the edge, and you’d be embarrassed at how easily it affected you if you weren’t so overcome with coming down from your peak. You slowly regain your bearing through heavy breaths and look up at him above you with hooded eyes, “Jesus, Spence.”

A wide smirk plasters on his face as he stands up from the bed, “Just getting started baby.” He makes work of his belt buckle and slides it off while you crawl over to help him with pulling his zipper down. You tug his pants down enough to expose his bulge, and you lightly palm him through his boxer.

A deep groan rumbles through his throat, his hands coming up to gather your hair in a makeshift ponytail as watches you slowly pull him out of boxers. He’s achingly hard, tip red and throbbing. You coo at him, “Poor thing, must’ve been painful today keeping this in, when all you wanted to do was come inside me, hm?” a strangled noise leaves him as you continue, “I know you really wanna sink your dick in me, but can I have just a little taste?”

The doe eyes you give him as you speak your lewd words has him nearly teetering over the edge and you haven’t even put your mouth on him yet. He nods vigorously, not trusting words to do him good and watches himself slowly disappear down into your throat, further and further back until he hits something hard and you gag a little. He mutters a sorry that sounds like a half cry half moan, but the way his hips are subconsciously thrusting into you and the hand that’s gripping your hair guiding you so, tells you he might not actually be that sorry.

“Fu—uu—uck.” his head tilts back as the overly enunciated curse flies out of his mouth. Your head bobs with a ferocity on his cock, using your hand to pump whatever you can’t comfortably fit into your mouth. Spencer thinks this is what heaven must be like, that you an angel personified have brought the pearly gates down onto the Earth and blessed him with your mouth.

You continue to take him into your throat for a few more seconds before you feel a sharp tug on your hair that wasn’t meant to hurt but might’ve felt that way with how desperate Spencer needed you off of him.

“What happened?” you ask, voice raspy and confused.

He breathes heavily, “Don’t wanna come in your mouth.” you giggle and sit up on your knees and Spencer closes the distance by reaching for your head in both hands and pulling you in for a long kiss.

“Turn around.” he whispers low, gently pushing you onto your stomach the second your back is to him. The anticipation builds as you can hear him remove the remainder of his clothing, and he climbs over you to unclip your bra and gently pull your panties over and off your legs.

He tosses them to the side and returns to looming above you while you’re splayed out on your stomach in front of him. You get on your forearms and arch your back, letting your ass and cunt be on full display for him knowing this was a position he loved. He can’t help himself but lean forward and swipe his tongue through your folds, groaning at how sweet you taste.

When he pulls off of you, you’re fully expecting his next move would be to finally be inside you. What you don’t expect, is him backing up a little and pulling your legs back towards him so you’re back to lying fully flat on the bed. Before you even have a chance to question him he’s crawling back over you and lowering his head to whisper hotly in your ear, “Have you ever tried this one?”

The long and soft whine you let out goes straight to his cock as he lines himself up at your entrance and slowly pushes in. Pushing past the folds of your cunt that wraps so perfectly around him, he’s in awe watching it enter you. You, on the other hand, are on a different planet from the feeling the new position is giving you. He’s deeper than he’s ever been in you, reaching spots you didn’t even know existed, his hands pressing onto your back so hard you know there’s going to be imprints later.

The moans escaping from you are consumed by the sheets beneath you, his pace unrelenting as he holds you in place and ruts into you.

“Spence..” you whine softly.

The weight of his hands press your body further into the mattress as he leans down right next to ear and whispers hotly, “Yeah, baby?

The emotions builds in you fast and the need to kiss him becomes stronger, “Wanna see you…Need to see you.”

His hips stutter at the tone of your voice, so whiny and desperate, all for him. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky, how he became the object of all your desires, how everyday you wake up and it’s him you choose repeatedly, and will continue to choose for the rest of time. You’ve always loved him, it was a fact you made sure that he knew every single day.

When he flips you over with a gentleness, he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, hoping that the synergy flows between your contact and you can feel it in every nerve ending, just how in love he is with you. He think you got the message as he watches you move your hand between your bodies to grab at his cock and slowly guide back inside you while you both watch him push fully into you again.

He looks down between your bodies and watches his cock move in and out of you, mesmerized by the ring of slick that reappears with every pull out. It’s nearly automatic the way his thumb reaches for your clit and moves his eyes upward to watch you completely unravel at the hands of his touch.

Your brows are furrowed together in pleasure, “Fuck…’m close.” you mutter through a whine.

His hips snap to meet yours rapidly, “Yeah? Me too…” he taps your leg to lift it onto his shoulder, deepening his angle and circling you around the throes of your release. He grunts out, “Gonna let me put a baby in you?”

You clench down on him hard with a loud moan, neither of you expecting the effect his words had on you. Spencer chuckles and bends down to press love bites into the crook of your neck before trailing back up to your ear and whispers, “Didn’t think you’d be into me talking like that…you really want everyone to know who fucks you good every night? Want them to see you walk around with our baby in your belly?”

Your moans are uncontrollable at this point, it’s a miracle you can still hear him over the incoherent, borderline babbling sounds you’re making. He doesn’t relent as his hand slides up your neck to grip your jaw to hold your head in place, “Say it, I wanna hear you say it.”

A whimper falls out of you, “I—fuck—I want y—you…”

His hips slow down their pace, “Not good enough, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.”

The tiniest panic rises in you at the thought of him stopping, “No, don’t stop! Spencer, please. I want a baby, please want it all with you, please, please.” You realize in that moment you were never above begging to begin with, not when he’s between your legs offering you the world from the comfort of your sheets.

His pace quickens and groans at your pleas, leaning down closer so he’s chest to chest with you, “Oh, sweet girl,” he pants, “You’ll look so pretty carrying our kid, gonna drive me crazy watching you walk around.”

A string of moans trail out of your mouth, encompassed by the feeling of him inside you, the thoughts of your future together only adding to the intensity of the moment.

You weakly breath out, “Come inside me, please. Wanna make you a daddy.”

That was all Spencer needed to hear reach his peak and release into your cunt, rhythmic moans punctuating every thrust. Your grip on him tightens as you squeeze out every last drop of him. He feels himself become soft and gently pulls out, watching his come drip out of your hole. With a whimper he delicately picks up the excess with two fingers and enters you again, eliciting a languished whimper to match his.

“I know, I know, baby. Did so good for me, ‘m so proud of you.” he mumbles, watching the white coat his fingers as they move inside you. “Can you give me one more? Just one, I promise. Look so pretty like this, I can’t help it.”

You’re about to protest, feeling the sensitivity get the better of you when the pleasure hits again, another moan escaping you clearly telling him you can take it.

It’s a softer orgasm this time, a smaller peak but still lust filled and has you panting heavily as you come down from it. Spencer finally collapses on the bed next to you, his chest also heaving.

“You okay, baby?” he mumbles after a few minutes.

Words can’t fulfill you right now and all you can offer is a nod as you lazily lull your head over to him. He nods and reluctantly gets up from the bed despite your pout with a promise to be so quick, and returns with a wet cloth, a water bottle, and a fresh set of clothes for you. You let him gingerly clean you up before he helps dress you and slips right back into place beside you with a kiss to your temple.

“I love you…so much,” he whispers while pulling you into his embrace, “I really can’t wait to start a family with you.”

You hum contentedly, tilting your head up to press a kiss to his jaw, “I love you too.”

A few moments pass before he speaks again, “But…you’re still—“

“Still on birth control, baby. Don’t worry.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #kinktober #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid

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logaenhowlett · 1 month ago

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MY BEATIN’ HEART BELONGS TO YOU - L.H.

Summary: Logan believed he was sentenced to a life of solitude until he found you - an unexpected dawn promising the sunrise of a love he always deemed impossible. But then again, destiny never was merciful to fools like him.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Soulmate AU, All aboard the Fluff Train with scheduled stops at Angst Station, Established relationship, Hurt/Comfort, How I Met Your Mother reference (iykyk), Reader can manipulate electricity

A/N: 5.9k - strap in, gang. Would you believe me if I said all this was inspired by a debate I had with a friend about the implications of 'I want you' vs 'I need you'. The mind works in silly, little ways sometimes. Title creds to Green Day. Enjoy, you lovely people!

MASTERLIST

Gone were the days when nightmares would rouse him from the sanctuary of sleep. Logan couldn't remember the last time he'd awoken in a cold sweat, sheets shredded from fighting invisible monsters, alarm clock glaring an angry red amongst the darkness. No, all that disappeared once you'd made a home within his arms.

It had been about three months, verging on four if anyone was keeping count - and he, most definitely, was - since you'd swept him away in a tide of fondness and pure affection. The shadow of a man who once roamed the mansion now nurtured a newfound lightness in his heart. Logan wasn't perfect, far from it, chosen paths that only led to a labyrinth of despair, but he was right about one thing: you.

And that verdict especially rings true every morning. The tangle of limbs, the soft ebb and flow of sleepy murmurs, the stray kisses grazing warm skin, he wonders how he'd survived so long deprived of such tender pleasures. He's never going back, that much he knows.

His lips trace a lazy line along your neck, lingering a second longer beneath your jaw. There's a chuckle aching to break through at the thought of your sleep-induced irritation - it’s too early, you'd whine each time. And each time, his half-hearted apologies would be long-forgotten as you meet his gaze, a tempest of desire swirling within hazel.

It's amidst the following moments of peace when he's most thankful for the thick walls surrounding the room. The aftermath of your intimate exchanges always leaves him mesmerised, heart racing at the reminder of your touch. His mutation didn't allow for the full effects of alcohol to poison his inhibitions, yet as your smile gleams at him, Logan's sure he's never been more drunk.

"Where're you goin'?"

He's shaken from his musings as you roll away from his embrace, huffing in disbelief when you don't seem to stop. But, the string of complaints dies on his tongue as he watches you slip on the shirt he'd discarded the night before, turning around amused, "What? You wanna stay here all day?"

"Got nowhere to be."

"Correction - you have nowhere to be. I, on the other hand, need to grade those assignments or Jean'll actually explode my brain this time."

Logan hmphs. He'd been looking forward to lounging around this weekend, positively thrilled at the idea of letting the hours simply trickle away in the quiet comfort of your company. However, he's also one too familiar with Jean's intolerance for slacking off and lessons were definitely learned.

"Let her try," he counters meekly.

As you circle the bed to part ways with a chaste kiss, Logan seizes the opportunity to pull you down, pinning you beneath him in one effortless move. His lips capture yours with a deliberate, sensual slowness - the urgency from earlier now completely absent. The feeble protests vanish from your mind as he breaks away, a twinkle of mischief playing on his smile.

His fingers trace the curve of your wrist, hovering over the faint crescent moon inked in black. It was the mark of your soulmate. Of him, he hopes. You'd shown him quite early into the relationship, spending many a night whispering theories and speculations about its meaning. At first, he expressed only timid fascination, a question here and there spurred by gentle curiosity while you rambled on and on. But as his heart began to tether itself to yours, the mark took on a new significance. Every time his gaze fell upon it, his thoughts would spiral from longing and self-doubt, wondering if he was the one destined to share a lifetime with you.

Over the decades he'd been alive, Logan had searched every crevice of his body for his own. In his youth, it was a fleeting thought, brushed aside by the assumption that his healing factor wouldn't allow for these scars. Yet as time passed, he was terrified of waking up to a branded promise - a cruel trick that condemned his soulmate to a life with him. After he met you, those fears were soon eclipsed by a yearning, a desperate hope for a sign of his worthiness. Every day, he lingered by the mirror, gaze sweeping across his reflection, praying for an identical crescent moon to mark his skin.

"Logan." Your laugh draws his attention, "I'm never leaving the bed at this rate."

"Darlin', that's the general idea."

He relents anyway, falling onto his back with a soft grunt as you stand up. The dopey grin you're biting has him narrowing his eyes in suspicion, wondering what goddamn joke popped into your mind. Before he can question it, you straighten your posture and salute, "General Idea."

A look of confusion contorts his features, though he doesn't get anything besides a mumbled response as you leave the room, "Never mind, it's from a show."

A mountain of papers sits perched on your desk illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp, the scratching of your pen punctuating the silence of the classroom as you continue grading your students' assignments. It had been a couple of hours since you left Logan amongst the nest of blankets. And that image only seemed more enticing with each word you read.

"Missed ya."

Speak of the devil.

Except this devil was an angel - you could almost see a halo shimmering around his figure, backlit by the sunlight flooding the hallway. Every time you think you've captured the essence of his allure, he defies your expectations, often with just a simple gesture. And despite the countless compliments and declarations of adoration, Logan still seemed surprised by flattery, his lips always seeking yours to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks.

"I just saw you like - "

"In the shower," he interrupts, smirk widening as he approaches. He leans against the chair, nose brushing against your exposed shoulder.

Something in your brain short-circuits at his words and the casual display of affection. You stammer a little, "You… didn't tell me."

"Oh, that would've worked hm?" Logan spins the chair around, chuckling as he catches your flustered expression, "'M sorry, sweetheart... guess I gotta make it up to ya."

You never thought Logan was a romantic. Yet, time and time again you discover the depths of his boundless capacity for love and companionship. It wasn't just the whispered promises and passionate revelations, but the quiet moments, the stolen glances, the tender touches that speak volumes. Neither of you had uttered those three words yet, though they hang heavy in the air, unspoken but deeply felt.

His hand winds up beneath your shirt, bunching the fabric near your waist as he pulls you closer. Heat, courtesy of the shower, wafts off his skin, a tantalizing sensation that makes your breath hitch. His tongue toys with your lower lip, teasing just enough that you find yourself chasing after him, desperate for more. The laugh he produces, though smug, is also contagious, a sound that never fails to swallow your heart.

Again and again, he'd professed his desire to unravel you by his sheer touch, how your craving for him sets his insides ablaze. And judging by the way your eyes darken, mouth parting almost reflexively, he's got you dancing to his tune like a puppet on a string - and you wouldn't have it any other way.

But he backs off all of a sudden.

A crescendo of footsteps echoes down the hallway and the moment is shattered. Three of your students barge in, out of breath and frazzled as they clutch their assignments. A frown creases Logan's brow, annoyance he's certainly putting no effort to hide has them second-guessing their intrusion until you beckon them in with a warm smile. With a hasty apology, they fumble with their papers, eyes darting between the two of you before rushing out, the door swinging shut.

"We gotta find a place," he grumbles, dipping forward into your neck.

"We already live together."

A sharp click of his tongue, a playful nip to your shoulder, seals his disapproval, "Not enough. Lil' brats interrupt every damn time."

He wasn't wrong in the slightest. The kids did seem to have an uncanny ability to sense the most inopportune times to interfere. Sometimes you joked that it was one of their mutant powers and Logan, with an amused roll of his eyes, would just scoff and agree. You can't help but chuckle, "'Least it wasn't Scott... I think we traumatised him last week."

It was indeed last week when the two of you retreated to the Danger Room. Of course, with the sole and noble intention of honing your defensive tactics. However, the moment you strategically knocked him off his feet, the situation had taken a decidedly different turn. Pinned beneath you, Logan held a look of astonishment that soon morphed into something much more eager. He'd uttered all of two words before your lips slammed against his and whatever hopes you had for training immediately became the least of your worries. That was until somebody walked in.

He huffs a laugh, the memory filling him with satisfaction, "Should've used his fuckin' brain with those sounds you were makin'."

"Oh god, poor Scott," you mumble, embarrassed by the thought.

"Quit sayin' his name." The growl that curls his words leaves goosebumps in its wake. Logan grips your chin, tilting your head back slightly, a slow grin unfurling as his gaze bores into yours.

"I said it twice!" you protest, but it's all in vain. His thumb drags across your lip, silencing your words.

"That's two more than I care for."

It's dark outside by the time he's done with you.

Sugar melts on his tongue, the velvety texture of chocolate dancing across his palate. Logan takes a rather indulgent sip, the steaming liquid warming his throat. Nestled on opposite sides of the window seat, the two of you share a quiet moment accompanied by nothing but pale moonlight. A comforting weight settles on your feet, his hand kneading the stress away with care. Outside, a delicate snowfall paints the mansion's grounds, grass slowly fading away, droplets racing down the windowpane.

Dinner had wound down hours ago. The kids gathered around the living room after, wide-eyed with wonder as the first snow of the season began. Charles eventually ushered them off to bed, Logan had planned to follow suit until your gentle tug derailed his desire to sleep altogether. And as always, there's no world where he'd deny you anything.

He sees you stifle a giggle every now and then, your eyes twinkling with amusement each time he lifts his mug. It was nothing fancy - mostly white, adorned with a line of stockings and, cheekily, the words "Well hung".

It was a present from you a few Christmases ago. He remembers you watching him warily unwrap the box, laughing out of giddiness as he blushed when the implication dawned on him. It's just a silly gift, you'd reassured, not pressuring him to even keep it. Yet, since then, it remained a permanent fixture on his bedside table. During restless nights, he'd reach for the familiar mug, seeking solace in the kitchen to drink away the looming shadows of insomnia.

It wasn't until your first night together that you saw it again after all those years, carefully placed and by far, the cleanest thing on his table. Logan ducked his head sheepishly before confessing just how much he treasured the sentiment. In a lifetime of solitude, someone had spared a second to think about him, even for a simple gag gift. And that thought warmed his heart a little on especially hard days.

"You're a child," he chides as you smile, rolling his eyes.

You scoff under your breath, "Oh, just cause you're a hundred years old."

"Hundred and sixty," he corrects, grabbing your foot mid-air before you can nudge his thigh. There's a brief pause as he places the mug aside, a wicked grin splitting his lips. Laughter fills the air as you squirm and wriggle away, quickly understanding the look behind his eyes. But Logan moves faster. His hands trail their way to your sides, drawing squeals of protest as he tickles you.

Seconds later, he backs off, satisfied by your reaction. Shifting his weight, he settles on top of you with a gentle press. As he lays against your chest, humming softly in contentment, the soothing caress of your fingers through his hair lulls him into a state of relaxation. The world simply fades away, replaced by the warmth of your embrace and the quiet flush of domestic bliss. A profound swell of gratitude spreads within his heart. It's during intimate moments like these that he feels especially lucky. A far cry from the man brought into this mansion years ago, times you also reflect on amidst late-night conversations.

The memories remain as vivid as yesterday.

It was late in the afternoon, the setting sun casting long silhouettes across the classroom. You stood by the blackboard, explaining the laws of electromagnetism while scribbling equations in chalk. For months, you'd taken over Charles' role as the physics professor, and what began as a favour soon grew into a passion. However, some days were particularly slow. A palpable sense of boredom washed over your students as their eyes drifted towards the clock in anticipation. Just as you were about to begrudgingly dismiss them, the door flew open - a dishevelled figure clad in gray burst in, wildly panting in fear and confusion.

This must be Logan, you concluded, recalling the latest mission debrief from Scott and Storm. They'd rescued two mutants in Canada, one of whom was particularly banged up and recovering in the med bay. Well, until now. Since their arrival, Charles had emphasised the erratic nature of Logan's mind, even unconscious, a part of him stayed unyielding against the telepath's powers. But as you locked eyes with him, you saw none of that. Instead, he seemed lost and terrified, glancing around the room from one corner to the next as if someone was speaking. Before you could offer a word of reassurance, he was gone, disappearing into the hallway like a fleeting shadow.

Over the following months, he slowly began to emerge from his shell. At first, it was just plain nods of acknowledgement as you passed each other in the mansion. Then, a word here and there, clipped phrases of advice and caution during particularly dangerous missions. Gradually, his presence became more pronounced. Sometimes, after intense training sessions, he'd slip into the back of your classroom, intently listening to your lectures on concepts you presumed were entirely foreign to him.

Except they weren't. It was only later that you discovered his secret: the countless hours spent poring over textbooks he'd discreetly stolen from Charles' bookshelf. The realisation filled your heart with a warm sense of affection. His unspoken interest, the hidden depths, it was all so endearing. Thereafter, Logan consumed your thoughts. And it was during one of those sleepless nights that you found the courage to join him in the kitchen, wordlessly focusing on your own books at either end of the table. Since then, a shared understanding passed between you, a bond forged from mutual appreciation and a hint of something more.

The first time he cracked a smile left you breathless. Jean was furious at Scott, her anger clear as day as she stormed away. And Scott, ever so helpless, turned to anyone for guidance, retracing every misstep, every misplaced word. Logan, watching the scene unfold, sneered to himself, enjoying the man cluelessly suffering. You exchanged a knowing look, a silent agreement on the absurdity of the situation. As you excused yourself, a fit of giggles threatening to overtake you, Logan followed close behind, unable to suppress his own laughter.

From that moment on, things changed. You found yourselves seeking each other, conversations flowed effortlessly, at times even seasoned with playful banter. And as Logan became a steady figure in your life, a strange ache settled in your heart. You were falling for him. Yet, his emotions remained a mystery, a puzzle you were desperate to solve.

One year became another, and another and another. And as your feelings for him increased, hesitation crept in rather unwillingly. You pushed everything away, burying them six feet under, afraid of rejection or something worse. But Logan, with his uncanny perceptiveness, sensed the shift in your behaviour. And one day, in a moment of raw honesty, he confronted you. A heated argument ensued, emotions spilling over, words cutting deep. Then, just as suddenly, the tension dissipated. His lips were on yours, conveying every bit of the love he carried in ways words could never bring justice to.

That was a couple of months ago. Everything was perfect and you'd never felt more complete until you noticed the brief flashes of insecurity whenever he saw the mark on your wrist. You knew he didn't have one. In the beginning, it became a sensitive topic, you started wearing a watch or longer sleeves to stop reminding him. But eventually, his unease was too much to ignore.

And so, you bit the bullet.

The conversation was fraught with discomfort, but as you spoke, his expression softened, a slight weight lifting off his shoulders. He shamefully expressed his worries, the fear of not being enough - not being the one for you. It was a small step, but one that brought you closer than ever before.

Logan couldn't have been more grateful.

"Perhaps the two of you should, what do the kids call it, get a room?"

Charles' voice suddenly cuts across the silence. All eyes, including Logan's and yours, snap up from the blueprints scattered on the table. Scott blinks in confusion, meanwhile Jean, holding back a knowing smirk, can barely contain herself.

"I've had my fair share of lewd daydreams in my youth, but that was quite disturbing," he continues, tone laced with disapproval.

Colour drains from your face. Had your thoughts really been that obvious? Sure, you couldn't stop admiring how the tight leather suit molded to Logan's physique - incredibly distracting, to say the least. But you didn't realise you were projecting your attraction so loudly, especially in a room with two telepaths.

"Sorry, Professor." It seems useless to apologise at this point, but he responds with a curt nod directed at Logan. Turning your attention to the blueprints, you feel a familiar weight against your back. Logan, the sly bastard, leans over your shoulder with feigned nonchalance. And it takes every ounce of your willpower to focus on the serious discussion instead.

A recon mission.

Some old abandoned Hydra facility used for mutant experimentation in the 90s, the remnants of failed trials left to rot and forgotten. Charles had caught wind of it through Cerebro, suspecting that there may be valuable information hidden within its walls, secrets that should very well stay away from the wrong hands.

"What's in there?" Scott asks, tensing a little.

Charles pauses, a scowl twisting his expression, "That is a private matter."

"Private Matter," you mumble without thinking, instinctively reaching for a salute before Logan catches your wrist, halting the motion. He shoots a look, a silent reprimand that very clearly implies "Not now". Fortunately, no one else witnesses your mistimed quip, too engaged in drafting a safe plan for extraction.

The mission seems fairly straightforward, a simple infiltration like many you've done before. Nevertheless, Charles concludes with a stern warning to heed caution, "Now, good luck to all of you." As you filter out the room, he casts a pointed glare, "And Logan, please refrain from defiling my desk at any point in the future."

Shock etches across your face, mouth slightly agape. Once you're out of earshot, you shove Logan’s arm in embarrassment, "It wasn't me then." You breathe in relief only to be reminded of the thoughts he seemed to be entertaining earlier. What surprises you is the fact that you're more intrigued than deterred by the idea.

"My bad, sweetheart. Couldn't help myself," he laughs, dipping in close to whisper, "Suit's makin' it real hard to think straight." And with that, he's off, jogging ahead to Scott and Jean already waiting in the hangar.

Once you're airborne, the atmosphere shifts. Jean pilots the jet, her hands steady on the controls, eyes scanning the horizon. The Hydra facility looms in the distance, a dark and ominous presence in the middle of nowhere. As you approach your destination, a sense of apprehension lingers among the four of you. Scott recounts the plan, outlining the most efficient entry and exit points, his voice low and deliberate, "Logan and I will start from top-down and you two from the opposite."

As you leave the jet, a hand slips into your own, stilling you in place. Logan tugs you into his arms, there's a faint smile playing on his lips, his eyes, however, convey something along the lines of "Be careful, please". You squeeze his hand reassuringly, pressing a quick kiss before breaking away. With a reluctant sigh, he catches up with Scott, splitting off from you and Jean.

Inside, the air is thick with the scent of decay and neglect. Everything is left exactly as it was, except there are signs of a violent struggle - machines overturned, wires strewn across the floor, glass shards crunching under your boots. It's a scene of chaos and destruction. In the center lies an operating table, its restraints snapped in half, broken syringes and discarded medical equipment scattered around.

Electricity crackles beneath your fingertips. Though your powers aren't advanced, Charles has been a patient mentor, overseeing your progress since the day he found you. However, as you keep surveying the area, you notice an odd sensation, a subtle resistance to your abilities. A similar unease grips Jean too, her gaze meeting yours, a shared look of concern exchanged as you continue your search.

A distorted voice breaks through the comms, "Upper level's clear. No sign of anything." It's Scott, barely recognisable over the static.

"Copy. Still sweeping the lower level," you respond, but it's garbled by the interference.

"Stay on alert," Jean warns, straining her telekinetic energy against the strange force permeating the facility. "Defence systems could still be active."

You venture deeper into the hallway, greeted by an eerie silence broken only by the echo of your own footsteps. A series of cells line the corridor, thick metal barricades, scarred and rusted, stand as a testament to the suffering endured by those held captive years before. Peering through the tiny barred windows, you see sterile, empty rooms, not a single bed or mattress to be found - the cold, hard concrete floor offering no comfort.

"Fuckin' hell," you murmur, chills running down your spine. Jean hums quietly in agreement, looking around in horror. The electricity you can usually detect in the background dwindles to a weak buzz. You descend a narrow staircase, the air growing heavier by the second. At the end of the hallway is another metal hatch, this time with a faded Hydra symbol etched onto its surface. With a concentrated effort, Jean manipulates the lock, the door groaning open with a distinct beep.

It's beyond dimly lit - a dark, cavernous space. You focus your powers, fighting against the invisible pressure dampening your strength, current coursing through your veins. With a snap of your wrist, the room erupts in light, fluorescent bulbs flickering awake. A row of computers surrounded by a bundle of wires and archaic machinery stretch towards the ceiling.

"Must be the control room," Jean reaches out to flip a switch, but as her fingers brush the old metal, energy jolts through your body - a warning that something is amiss.

"No - wait!" you shout, but it's too late. The metal door slams shut with a deafening clang. An agonising vibration rattles through the room, a shockwave that reverberates through your body. The two of you sink to the floor, clutching your ears as a rush of debilitating pain burns every nerve ending in your body. And you're left paralysed for what feels like an eternity.

Logan clicks his tongue as static continues pouring through the comms, he catches the tail-end of your broken reply - something something lower level - a pit of dread forming in his stomach, "Place feels off."

"You're right, I can't get a read on anything," Scott mutters, the red hue of his glasses flashing in the darkness.

Logan's eyes dart around the space, landing on a series of grotesque instruments undoubtedly used for torture. A wave of nausea washes over him, flashbacks of his own past spring forward at the sight, reminders of the days when he too was a mere subject in someone else's twisted experiments. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. An imperceptible vibration ripples beneath his feet, "The fuck was that?"

Scott immediately tries the comms again, "Jean? Wha - ", but it goes completely dead.

Logan's already barrelling through the corridors, his instincts taking over without a conscious thought. He calls for you again and again, reckless abandon fueling his every move. Screw the mission, all he wants is for you to be safe. His heart leaps into his throat as static hisses through the comms, Jean's voice muffled through the noise, "We've got... a major problem."

One second passes.

Two.

Three.

"C'mon, darlin'." The silence drags on, panic begins to seize his mind, sweat beading on his forehead. He needs to find you, now. The faint vibrations gradually become intense as he races down the staircase, "Major problem? C'mon, say your stupid joke, sweetheart. Please. Anything." His pleas, wracked with desperation, fall on deaf ears. Fear gnaws at him. He’s itching to hear your voice, even for that little running gag he doesn’t fully understand. Just any goddamn sign that you're still alive.

His senses direct him towards the metal hatch. Lunging forward, his fist connects with the barrier, claws extending at any attempt to tear through the door. Yet it holds firm, its surface barely dented or scratched by his force. Frantic, Logan rams his claws into the small security panel on the side, trying to short-circuit the lock. But the moment it's breached, a chain reaction is triggered, explosives hidden within the walls detonate with a tremendous roar. A torrent of debris and radiation thrusts him backwards, knocking him hard against the concrete.

The world around him seemingly implodes into a bedlam of sound and light, white flashes obscuring his vision. Pain, a searing, all-consuming pain diffuses through every inch of his body. His consciousness wanes, slipping away from his grasp. In the fading moments of awareness, he hears a distant crackle of electricity.

Then, nothing.

The memory of the chaos, the blinding light, the aftermath of the explosion, replay over and over. And then, there was Logan, his body limp and unresponsive, a sight that haunts your every waking moment. You remember the desperate scramble to escape the facility, the weight of his unconscious form in all your arms, the tense journey back to the mansion, Charles and Jean ushering you out of the med bay - their focus solely on stabilising him.

The night stretches on, a relentless march of time that seems to punctuate your helplessness as you pace back and forth. The lack of response from anyone doesn't quell the whirlwind of anxieties in the slightest. Every minute sound, every faint whisper, sends your heart racing. But when they finally emerge hours later, faces etched with exhaustion and relief, you can finally breathe.

For days, you sit by Logan's bedside, hands intertwined with his. The monotonous rhythm signalling his vitals is the only thing grounding you to reality. Though he remains unconscious, Jean had offered words of comfort, pointing to subtle improvements in his healing with her scans. Eventually, warmth returns to his body. His breathing, once laboured, is now full and steady. Leaning forward, you press a gentle kiss to his forehead and hope ignites within you again, just enough to draw a small, weary smile.

But then, you see it.

Glaring at you, painfully so, is a little mark on the back of his shoulder. Except, it isn't the same crescent moon that adorns your wrist. No.

Your heart sinks, breath catching in your throat, paralysis sets in once again. A single, shattering revelation echoes in your mind: Logan is not your soulmate.

He stirs awake, eyelids fluttering open. Everything slowly returns to his senses as the haze of confusion begins to clear. The first thing he notices is the familiar scent of you lingering on his skin, in the air, on the chair pulled by his side. As his vision unblurs, the blue walls of the med bay coming into view, a flood of concern smacks him in the face. Where are you? What happened? He tries to sit up, his body protesting with every movement.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The mechanical hum of a wheelchair grows louder as it approaches. Charles, brimming with sympathy, rolls closer.

Logan groans, his muscles throbbing like never before, "What the hell happened? Is she - "

"She's alright, as are Scott and Jean," he interjects, though a shadow of pity clouds his expression. The unspoken weight behind his words triggers alarms in Logan's head, but before he can question him, a sharp burn shoots up his back. He winces, reaching for the source of the stinging. Beneath his fingertips, a strange, rough texture grates against his skin. He angles back to inspect it, blood running cold.

"It surfaced a week ago," Charles says grimly, "We suspect the radiation from the explosion temporarily impacted your healing, hence, the mark."

Logan can't think straight, a maelstrom of emotions engulfs every single fiber of his being - disbelief, agony and rage. How could this be real? He'd spent night after night, praying for some sort of sign, a reason for his existence. And when he found that in you, it felt like everything finally aligned. But now, destiny had struck him down with a ruthless blow, a cosmic twist of fate far worse than death.

Seven days.

That's how long it's been since you last saw him. The weight of the world bore down on you, every breath a struggle. Hours bled into one another as you stayed locked in your room, sobbing uncontrollably, your heart fracturing with each passing moment. Jean's persistent knocking eventually broke through your despair, her calm voice soothing your frayed mental state.

It took all of her gentle persuasion for you to finally eat something, to force you out of the anguish that consumed you. The news that Logan was awake and begging to see you almost crumbled the impenetrable walls you'd built up. But the thought of facing him, of confronting the fragile pieces of your harsh reality, filled you with dread.

And so, you avoided him. Retreating into yourself, a ghost of your own life, you clung to the illusion of distance. Maybe it'll somehow ease the pain, the heartbreak. You couldn't even bear to look at your own wrist, the mark - a cruel reminder of a love that was and a future that can never be. Every second of every day, mocking whispers floated around your mind, "You don't deserve him. You never did."

The moment Logan fully recovers, he immediately rushes through the mansion. Anticipation swells in his chest, there's nothing he wants more than your touch, your laughter - just you. He reaches your room, sensing the warmth from within. Hand hovering in the air, he takes a deep breath before knocking.

"Sweetheart?"

There's no response. He drops his head against the door, breathing ragged. Tears sting his eyes, threatening to spill over, the oxygen in his lungs thinning as he tries to speak, "Please. I know you're in there. Talk to me." The silence, the emptiness, it all becomes too much. He's losing you, and he can't do anything to stop it. "I know you're upset. But, please, just let me in."

Your voice comes muffled, charged with grief and sorrow, "That mark means there's someone out there for you - your real soulmate. Someone who isn't me." The words are piercing, he longs to pull you into his arms, to comfort you, to reassure you. "I am not meant for you, Logan," you choke out.

"Fuck that," he spits back. He can't accept this, that you're conceding to some inexplicable truth, "'M not givin' you up cause of some shit on my body. I choose you. And I will choose you. Every single time." It's all strangled, raw with emotion, cheeks stained with a wetness. He's wound up, a caged animal clawing at the bars. He'll fight for you, even if all the cards are against him, "Darlin', I don't care if there's someone else - they're not you. You're perfect to me. For me. The universe can go fuck itself cause I love you."

Logan goes still. He's never expressed that to you, not in this way, not with such soul-baring honesty. But, nothing has ever been more true, "I love you."

Heavy hangs the air. Then, a soft padding of footsteps, the door clicks open. Before he can react, your hands cup his face, drawing him down to your level, lips meeting in a passionate caress. Logan cradles the back of your head, deepening the kiss. The space between you, both physically and emotionally, fades away. This is all that matters, for now and forever.

His arms tighten as you pull back and tuck into the crook of his neck. The weight of your exhaustion is obvious with the shuddering sigh you let out, his heart aching for you. As you whisper apologies, he trails kisses down your face. "No, no, don't be sorry, darlin'," he says, all soft and gentle. Neither of you move, surrendering to each other, the moment suspended in time. Slowly, your trembling subsides and he smiles, the lines of misery now dimming. With delicate fingers, he brushes your tears away.

"I have a major headache," you murmur, eyes falling shut.

He huffs a laugh, saluting you with a playful grin, "Major Headache." The look of astonishment across your face brings him so much joy. "I asked Kitty, told me to watch the damn show." And Logan did watch the show - all for you - to understand the little references you kept making here and there.

"You know how to use the Internet?" you ask, incredulously.

"Don't push it, sweetheart." There's no malice behind his tone whatsoever. With a smirk, he leans forward, scooping you up in his arms and carries you to the bed. It's a familiar motion, a routine he's done hundreds of times before. But now, it's different, one that’s even more precious.

"Logan?"

"Hm?"

"I love you too."

He knows. He knows because it's written all over you. Every word, every breath, every touch - a testament to your love for him. A love so quiet and profound, a love that has weathered storms, a love that will last until the end of time. And he's eternally grateful for it. For you.

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gojosatorubrainrot · 7 months ago

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Scars don't define you💫

Summary: Gojo starts to feel insecure about your love for him because of his scars

Feat: Gojo Satoru x reader

Content: fluff, mentions of Gojo vs Sukuna fight, reassuring, body insecurities, husband!Gojo x Wife!Reader. Ch 261 doesn't exist lol

Wc: 1121

Author's note: Hi!! I've never thought I will ever be doing this but here we are! Encouraged by my gojo friends in discord to continue this drabble🥰 Sorry in advanced for my poor grammar, English is not my first language 🫡

The Shinjuku incident meant a reborn for the the strongest sorcerer, and you, his wife as well. You almost lost the love of your life by the hands of the King of Curses. At first, you thought everything was over when you saw him laying down on the floor, his lifeless body starting to be covered by the heavy snow storm that had began to fall minutes earlier.

You felt useless, after all, you were a non sorcerer, so,as a civilian, you didn't to have another choice than staying where Shoko and the others were watching the battle being broadcasted.

But its been a long time since that jumpscare and you thanked every existent God and also Shoko for bringing your reason of living back to your arms.

Satoru and you both were laying in bed together, you are running your fingers along his scarred face; each fingertips of yours feeling every single injury of his skin.

As you continue with your doing,he closes his eyes at the softness of your sweet touch, at first, he enjoys it a lot, he always loved the way you did it, always being careful as if he was a glass meant to break, but fear set up on his mind;he thought you hated his scars, that you despise them and those marks ruined his pretty face, that you wouldn't love him anymore and, eventually, you would leave him alone as everyone did during his life, but this time, he wouldn't have a reason of living because you are his everything.

He doesn't even want to think how a life without in it would be, how alone he would feel again just like he did after Suguru's departure.

When that event occurred, when he was ordered to kill his best friend, he has never felt so useless as a sorcerer, but most of all, as a human being, so that was the reason he chose to stay alone for the rest of his days, to prevent someone from getting hurt by the mere fact of being involved with him. That was his idea until he met you at his favorite kikufuku store. He didn't believe in love at the first sight until he met you nor how does it feel to be in love until you.

you, his everything

He was afraid of losing you again, but now it was because of his appearance, he hated those scars because that meant you won't call him pretty angel or pretty face ever again. On the other hand, they were his reminder of a second opportunity, an opportunity he would take advantage of. His second chance to make things right and spend as much time as he could with you: not spending nights working or on mission trips, only with you, his home.

Now he is debating if telling you or not about his insecurity with his scarred skin, because he thinks you would laugh at this and ignore him, but call him silly for thinking that.

As he thinks about that, he sits up, preparing to get his shirt on. You can see how the mood changed, how an intimate moment filled with love and adoration became one filled with insecurities and non spoken words. He is looking for his shirt to put it on and leave the bedroom towards the balcony, so he can spare his mind off a little bit.

You wonder why he was feeling troubled and why he decided to ignore you and not talking with you as he has always done before. You are hesitant about ask him or not, you always wanted to give Satoru his space, you always respected that because after some time, he will come to you and tell you everything between thousands and thousands sorry for not telling you before.

All you can see now is his scarred back, and your intuition is screaming at you to do something so he could open himself up to you. After few seconds, an idea popped up in your mind; while satoru has his head between his hands, you approached to him slowly trying to not get noticed.

Satoru, who was lost in thoughts, suddenly felt your plump and soft lips along his scared back, giving it small pecs and smooches, replacing your lips with your small fingers tracing every single scar. He didn't understand what you were doing so he let you do so. Suddenly,he feels something he has only felt with you and you only: loved, adored, cherished, he was seen as a human, not a pretty face as he has been called few times, the strongest weapon for the jujutsu society, he was Satoru Gojo for you, your Toru.

He turned his head to where you were tracing your fingers and stared at you: you were focused and determined to make him feel alive again.

His small chuckle made you look up and meet those blue eyes you fell in love with many years ago;

"Hi sweets" he whispered without looking away" What are you doing?"

"Hi Toru" you giggled at that nickname he gave you only when you both were in an intimate moment "Nothing, just admiring your beauty" you responded never looking away from his mesmerizing blue eyes.

"Nothing about me is beautiful, princess" he said defeated. "Look at me" he pointed at his scarred skin, despising it, hating it.

"I'm looking at you, Toru. I'm always looking at you and all I see it's the prettiest, the most caring, loving man that I've ever met" you said putting his face in between your hands "I love you,Toru. If you ever think those scars will stop me from loving you, I must tell you don't me well. These scars are telling me that you are here" you give him a kiss in the tip of his pinky nose "alive, with me in our home"

After yours words, Satoru’s eyes immediately fill with tears, but before you notice, he closes his eyes to stop them and leans his head to your warm and reassuring touch, a warm feeling inside his chest arises.

He feels so grateful with you, you are his everything.You stopped caressing him at the moment he opens his eyes, blue like the ocean itself "I love you, angel" he says at the same time you started caressing the scar across his cheek.

"I love you too, Satoru and remember that you can tell me any trouble or inconvenience you are living through, okay? I'll always love you until my last breath" you said finishing the sentence with a quick kiss, which is immediately reciprocated

With this Satoru knew that he would never feel alone again.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk manga #jjk x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff

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rindreamery · 11 days ago

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congratulations on getting 300 followers!! here's my order: itoshi rin + spicy + cuddling + best friends to lovers!! thank you <3

ORDER 7: READY TO GO !

rin + spicy + cuddling + best friends to lovers w.c. 1k+

note. thank youu <3 this made me realize that i don't have a talent for writing suggestive pieces but there is ALWAYS room for improvement ig 😭 i tried my best here, i hope you enjoy T^T

interested in more? check out the lounge !

lately, rin’s been finding it exceptionally difficult to act like he’s not madly in love with you.

he tries his best to hold it in, to not let the years of longing seep out in his words and the way he treats you. but you— so oblivious, blind, unaware of the effect you have on him— just never makes it easy. you’re so affectionate that it drives him insane, you’re so affectionate with him that his mind starts to blur the line between being your best friend and something more. maybe it’s simply because he’s touch deprived, or maybe it’s another thing, but when your arms wrap behind his neck to pull him in for a hug, his mind blanks.

except, for one thought: how badly he wants to be something more to you.

especially now, when you’re laying beside him, limbs intertwined with his own as you cuddle up against his side. hugs between best friends are normal, that, he’s aware of. but this isn’t— this is all too much for being just best friends. the way your face is buried in his neck, hands laying casually on his chest, and the way his arms hang around your waist, hands dipping dangerously low. it’s not normal, but the two of you sure act like it is.

it doesn’t help that when you’re in his arms, his mind always wanders off to thoughts of what it would be like to be officially yours (though, he’s been unofficially yours since the day he met you.) he always starts to wonder what it would feel like to be able to hug you and kiss you freely, the way he wants, and say what he could never say to you. to know you in a way he doesn’t know you, right now. it’s a dangerous place for his mind to wander into, because it makes him want to spill. to confess.

and as your hands start to trail across his chest, fingers idly drawing a line up and up, until you’re tracing his collarbones and then the line of his jaw delicately— rin has to force his eyes shut. it takes everything in him to calm the way his mind starts to blank, yet go into overdrive, all at the same time. alternating between a state of not being able to think, to thinking too much.

he’s glad you can’t see him, not in the state that he’s in right now. ears and cheeks flaring in bright red, brows tightly pinched together, and absolutely gritting his teeth that it’s almost painful. the look of pure restraint. but he’s sure you can feel him, the way his skin burns underneath your finger, the way his jaw tightens up, and the way his pulse quickens in the joint between his neck and jaw. you could probably feel the way his grip tightens ever so slightly, and his chest starting to rise and fall at a ragged pace, matching his erratic heartbeat, too.

it’s no surprise that you’re able to tell almost immediately, sweetly asking, “something on your mind, rin?” yet, it catches him off guard. he barely processes your words, still trying to yank himself out of his never-ending thoughts. “you’re extra tense today,” you say against the skin of his neck, and he barely hears that too.

rin lets out a shaky, almost inaudible breath. he’s about to shrug it off, to tell you, “it’s nothing,” and then spend the remainder of the time fighting his urges. the words are about to roll off his tongue, the same way he’d practiced over and over, throughout the years. he’s so close to denying himself of his feelings again.

but then, he freezes.

he feels the way your finger leaves its spot from his jaw, going even further up— something you had never done before— until your index is ghosting over the line of his bottom lip. “come on, you can tell me.” you trace the curve agonizingly slow as you speak, and it tickles, but somehow feels oddly euphoric. tempting him. “i’m your best friend, aren’t i?”

he picks up the tone in your voice; so innocent sounding, yet so cunning, that makes him feel like he's fallen right into your trap. like you'd been waiting for this moment, all along. testing him, pushing his limits, waiting for him to snap.

had this been your plan all along?

your voice, as you say best friend, lingers; the word echoes in his mind, repeating until your voice eventually fades into nothing.

and he does— he snaps.

one of his hands leaves the comfort of your waist, flying up to grip onto your wrist like it’s the only thing tying him down to his sanity. but he’s long gone, and thoughts of preserving whatever type of friendship this was was no longer at the forefront of his mind. just you, him, and more of you.

for a second, a reasoning thought does flash across his mind— you can’t go back from this, rin— right as he yanks you up by the wrist, forcing you to face him. but the thought disappears as quickly as it came, and is erased with the image of you peering down at him, and he forces down a gulp. he doesn’t miss the look of surprise that swirls in your irises, but it’s even harder to miss the look of satisfaction? that darkens in your eyes.

he's breathing heavily, staring into your eyes, and he's sure there's a crazed look in his, the exact reaction you wanted, from the way your lips curl at the sight of him.

"go on," you egg him on.

and it works. he pulls you down, roughly at that, until his lips are mere millimeters away from yours.

“i don't want to be your best friend. i’m sick of pretending,” rin whispers lowly against your lips, trying to speak through his clenched jaw, voice audibly restrained and teetering on the line of desperation, “that i don't want more from you.”

#ᯓ★ nishi's dessert lounge .ᐟ #blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader

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rosie-read-that · 28 days ago

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one more afternoon / jake "hangman" seresin x reader

summary: your brother's best friend pays a visit to his texas hometown, and in spite of your resolution to get over your (slightly embarrassing) childhood unrequited crush, you can't help but admit that you're still down bad for jake seresin.

content warnings: f!reader, alcohol use, oblivious reader can't take a hint

word count: 14k (you told me not to apologize for long fics, so here it is, i present it without apology!)

author’s note: hello, all! i wanted to have this out by thanksgiving, but i got hit with a stomach flu and then with a regular flu, so it took me this long to finish it. i hope the wait was worth it 🫶 the title is taken from a song by maggie rogers. as promised, the next one will be a short (i mean it this time!) and spicy holiday-themed one for all the tyler owens lovers 💓 thank you so much for voting in the poll that got this baby written.

“Did you hear the big news?” Your dad bustled into the shop with his arms full of greenery, grunting as he set the bundles wrapped in newspaper into a bucket. At the counter, your mom paused her accounting and fixed your dad an eager stare. She loved news. “Jake’s coming home for the wedding!” he announced. He brushed his hands off while yours fumbled over the order forms. A few slipped out of sequence and fluttered down to the floor. You bent to pick them up, hearing your mom’s sigh of delight.

“Oh, that's wonderful news! Dinah will be so pleased, and Amanda, too. She was worried Jake wouldn't manage to get leave. You know how much she adores him.”

“Well, she's not the only one. Mike’s ready to throw a whole goshdarn parade in his honor.” The forms retrieved, you busied yourself with putting them back in order. Your dad laughed. “I haven’t seen the kid that excited since the day Gilly was born.”

“Ow!” You stuck your finger in your mouth, the taste of blood making you wince.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” your mom asked.

“Yeah, yeah, just… paper cut.”

She came to your end of the counter. Taking your finger in her hands, she moved it this way and that, squinting at it through her glasses before she dropped a kiss on your head. “Mm, I think you’ll live.”

“Thanks for the diagnosis.”

“Don’t sass me!” she joked. “I’ll call Mike. Maybe we can all throw Jake a nice big barbecue, spend some time together like the old days.”

“He’ll probably be busy with wedding stuff,” you pointed out, mumbling around your finger.

She shot you a look that said spoilsport. “I know Jake, he’ll make the time. Besides, he’ll be walking with you at the wedding, won’t he?” Mom must have taken the shock of surprise for disappointment, because she smacked a hand against her forehead and said, “Oh, sorry! Me and my big mouth!”

It took you a moment to realize she wasn't talking about Jake.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, making a half-hearted attempt to sort through the forms again. Your parents looked at you skeptically. “I’m fine! Josh and I are practically ancient history.”

Dad, bless him, took your word for it, or at least pretended to. He picked up the bucket of sage bundles and took it into the back, but your mom hovered, stroking your shoulder, cloyingly sympathetic. It was clear she wanted to say something but was afraid of how you’d react. Knowing her, she’d give you that hangdog expression all day until you gave her permission to spill the beans, so you gave a deep sigh and turned to her with a look that said, “Alright, let’s have it.”

“I heard he’s bringing Mia to the wedding,” she blurted out. “Amanda was livid. She said she would disinvite him if you wanted—”

“Mom, I hope you told her that wouldn't be necessary.”

“Of course I did! But she said it was a standing offer.”

Oh, bother… Amanda was a sweetheart, if not a little overeager. As much as you appreciated everyone’s tact, it was also part of the reason why you still felt some awkwardness when you thought about Josh. Any time your friends or family brought up your ex, they looked at you like they were expecting you to fall to pieces, especially after word started going around that he had moved on to someone else. No matter how many times you insisted that they could refer to him normally and not as “him” or “you-know-who,” they thought you were being a brave martyr about it, pretending to take it better than you were for the sake of maturity.

“It’s not like that,” you explained for the thousandth time. “Josh and I are fine. And Mia…” Okay, so part of you did want to bash her over the head with a waffle iron. Still… “Nothing untoward happened. We were already broken up when they got together.”

“Well yeah, but after only a month,” your mom scoffed. “That’s hardly enough time to get over a six-year relationship.”

You shrugged. “Maybe some things are meant to be, and some… aren’t.”

“Oh, sweetie.” She hugged you from behind. You grimaced as she squeezed you tight and made cooing sounds. “You don’t have to be so civil about it. You’re allowed to be upset.”

“I know, Mom, thanks.” You patted her hand.

“Anytime.” You thought that would be the end of embarrassing conversations you didn't want to have, until she clapped her hands and said, “Look on the bright side - it’ll be good to see Jake again! For him to meet the baby - and won’t the wedding pictures be just darling? He’s so handsome! I know you’ll look just fabulous together…”

It was as much cliché as it was ancient history. Jake Seresin - tall, tan, broad-shouldered, with a thousand-watt grin and a starring place on the high school football team - had been your crush since the moment you realized boys were more than just smelly, disgusting nuisances. Hell, you'd liked him even before the letterman jacket, around the time of his first growth spurt, when he’d come back from a summer visiting his aunt and uncle in California. From the porch steps, you'd seen him running into the yard to throw ball with your older brother, Mike, and your stomach had flopped and then flipped, and then flopped again. Looking back, Jake - a mere mortal - had an awkward phase just like everyone else, but you didn't see it at the time. To you, he was the dreamiest guy since you wore out your family’s Titanic VHS trying to feed your preteen fantasies of being Rose romanced by DiCaprio (before the ship went down).

Anyway, Jake’s awkward phase didn't last long. By the time he was a sophomore, he was playing on the junior varsity team along with Mike. Your sports-mad, overly enthusiastic dad gave them his blessing to turn the barn into their own personal gym, and while you complained about the unfairness of the world and the preferential treatment given to male athletes, you did find excuses to “run errands” and “pass through” so you could see Jake, shirtless, glistening with sweat. It didn't take long for Mike to notice. As a preteen, you weren’t exactly known for your finesse. While, in your opinion, you were doing nothing more than offering the boys a little lemonade - like Mom asked you to do - Mike would go back to the house for dinner and declare for all and sundry that he’d “appreciate it if you didn't salivate all over Jake like a peeping tom.”

“I do not!”

“Yeah, you do!”

“Mom, I swear it's not true! He’s making it up. You’re making it up, you buttface! You just don't want me hanging around—”

“Why would I want you hanging around? We’re training! You’re a kid, you're a safety risk!”

“Mooooom!” you wailed.

“Honestly, Mike, don't call your sister a safety risk. You're hardly grown yourself.”

“She called me a buttface!”

“That’s true. Sweetie, don't call your brother a buttface at the table, it's not polite.”

“Fine. I’ll call him a buttface later, like he deserves.”

No further comment was made about your crush on Jake on that occasion, but over the years it became your brother’s weapon of choice when he wanted to knock you down a peg, and “I’ll tell Jake you have a big fat crush on him” was a surefire way to get you to do whatever he wanted.

Once, you went down for a glass of water after you were supposed to be in bed and came upon Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen.

“—it’s a harmless little crush,” you heard her say. “We all had them at that age.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Of course you don't. She’s your daughter and you're finally working out that she's not going to be a little girl forever.” There was a pause. “You don't have to worry, Stan, I’ve given her The Talk.”

Ew, gross, ew! You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Yes, you remembered The Talk and you didn't want to have it ever again!

Your face heated as you knelt on the stairs. Hearing about The Talk in relation to you and Jake made you think about the stuff you’d seen at your friend Tessa’s house on the TV one night during a sleepover. You had stared at the screen, titillated and kind of horrified at what the actors were doing, the way their bodies moved and the sounds they made. Once the scene was over, you turned to each other and burst into nervous giggles, knowing your parents would blow a gasket if they knew what you’d seen. Not that you understood it. You knew how babies were made, but you didn’t understand what sex was supposed to be.

And your dad was worried about you having it? With Jake?

“He’s a good kid,” your mom gentled. “He knows she's too young for him - I’m not even sure he's aware that she likes him. Even if he is, he treats her like Mike’s kid sister. She’ll grow out of it.”

“If you say so, hon. But God as my witness—”

“She’s gonna have a boyfriend at some point.”

“When she’s eighteen,” your dad declared, “and not a moment sooner!”

You padded back to your room. It wasn’t news, but hearing that Jake thought of you as a kid dealt a heavy blow to your self-esteem. From then on, you resolved to play your cards closer to the chest - you might not be able to help the way he made you feel like your insides had turned to melted goo, but no one else had to talk about it behind your back like you had some sort of disease.

Unfortunately, playing it cool was one of the hardest things you had to do during high school. As it turned out, Jake and Mike were actually pretty good at the whole football thing. Around the time they made varsity, you zeroed in on the fact that girls found their athletic prowess to be sexually irresistible; they were crazy about them - and crazy about Jake in particular.

You watched as he winked and blew kisses at a train of girlfriends while he was out on the field. He leaned against their lockers, turning the charm up to eleven and brushing strands away from their cheeks, saying things like, “Pick you up at six?”

When he got his first truck - a beat-up old Chevy that he bought off Don Amberley by working shifts at the hardware store - you’d peer around your curtains at the sound of his horn. Sometimes Mike would take a while to leave the house, and Jake would turn his head to kiss the pretty girls in his front seat as a way to pass the time. The shy ones laughed, warding him off with a light push against his chest, while the bold ones closed their nails around his shirt and pulled him even closer, all but straddling his lap. You watched with bated breath as he put his hands on them, green with envy, wondering what it would be like to have his attention, not as his best friend’s little sister but as an actual girl.

Your suffering lasted a whole calendar year, after which Jake went off to college, then joined the Navy, and while time made you realize that you needed to move on with your life and stop making up scenarios about a white picket fence and two-point-five children, you never forgot about Jake, who in your mind - and despite your best efforts - remained the measure to which you compared every other guy.

It wasn't just his ridiculously handsome good looks, though having the body of a Greek god and a smile that made your toes curl didn't hurt. He had helped you when you’d scraped your knee roller-blading, letting you lean on his shoulder and fetching the bandages from the downstairs powder room; he joined your mom in the kitchen to do the washing-up when he stayed over for dinner, saying, “ma’am, I insist,” which earned him funny looks from Mike, but it never swayed him into doing things differently. You liked that he’d earned his first truck, got good grades, was a loyal friend. To you, Jake Seresin was the full package and then some - what more could anyone want? And while you had long accepted that he would make another woman very happy someday, the way in which your family teased you about your “little childhood crush” never failed to put your stomach all in knots. There was nothing little about it. In fact, it had now lasted well into adulthood and you had a feeling it would never fully go away.

Dad was right. Michael insisted on being part of the airport welcome wagon, cringey sign and all. He even stuck Gilly in an adorable pilot’s costume. Your sister-in-law sent you looks the entire way and, like a saint, restrained herself by only once making a comment about “your brother’s true wife.”

You sat in the backseat, trying to will yourself into being less nervous. Maybe it was your guilty conscience; for some reason, you kept thinking about all the times you’d imagined him in bed, or in the place of one of your boyfriends when you were doing couple-things. Be cool, be cool, you kept telling yourself.

By the time you parked at the airport, you thought your poker face was pretty flawless. After helping Julie wrestle the baby things into the stroller, you made your way through the chaotic mass of people coming and going through the Barbara Jordan terminal. The weather was good. Jake had texted your brother to say that he’d landed safely and was waiting to deplane, and Mike, vibrating with excitement, was trying to stake out a place in the Arrivals hall that would show his dorky Welcome Home, Hangman! sign in optimal light. Honestly, it was kind of embarrassing to be seen with him. You kept apologizing to the people he elbowed out of the way, as if to say, “Move aside, I was here first, bud!” But it did strengthen your resolve to be chill because at least one of you had to be.

Finally, you spotted a familiar face in the line of passengers spilling into the hall. Like something out of a romcom, Jake Seresin spotted Mike standing in the crowd, dropped his duffle bag, and came bounding into his arms. They talked over each other between laughter and bro-y exchanges, while Julie snorted through her nose and even Gilly sputtered and snuffled. You could take the boy out of Texas, it seemed… but back home he was still sixteen around friends.

Jake turned to you and smiled. “Hey, Cabbage.”

“Please, don’t,” you said, feeling awkward about the old nickname.

“Come here, bring it in.” He held out his arms, grinning, and there was no conceivable reason why you’d say no, so you steadied your nerves and stepped into them. He wrapped his arms around you. He smelled just as good as you remembered him - better, even, because a memory could never be as good as the real thing.

“You’re so stiff!” Jake pointed out, squeezing you tighter.

“No, I’m not.”

“What am I, your creepy uncle?” He looked down at you, then over your shoulder and spotted the baby in Julie’s arms.

His smile lit up his whole face and you felt your heart twist against your ribcage. You let out a breath when he let you go, trying not to fixate on the way his hand brushed against your shoulder as he did so, a slide that seemed to linger.

Fondness - that was all it was, you told yourself. He’d known you all your life and he was fond of you.

He turned his attention now to your little niece.With something like awe, he said, “Michael, you old bastard…” Then, “Sorry, little lady - you must be Gilly! Hi! Hi there, it’s your Uncle Jake! Your not-at-all-creepy Uncle Jake…”

“Nice one,” you threw back.

He grinned wider, saying, “Julie, how are you?”

“About as well as can be expected with a teething baby.”

“Well, you look great.”

“Liar,” Julie replied, but his comment made her stand a little straighter.

He let Gilly grip his finger in an attempt at a handshake. Being a sucker for attention, she wiggled her body in her mother’s grasp and held her arms out to the smiley stranger, wanting to be carried. Jake was thrilled. He bounced her in his arms the entire way to the car, asking about the wedding, his parents, how Amanda was doing, which of their friends he could expect to see on Saturday afternoon. Mike stuck to him like glue, carrying Jake’s bag for him and answering his questions. You were certain he’d send Julie to the back so Jake could ride shotgun, but instead, he loaded Gilly into her baby seat and Jake touched you on the elbow, saying, “I can take the middle seat.”

“You don't want the window?” you asked, your arm tingling. He had slipped on a pair of sunglasses once he left the terminal and he looked like a movie star, all golden skin, slicked-back hair, and a hint of stubble on his jaw. You had no idea how you were supposed to survive a 90-minute car ride when just the sight of him made you want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“I want to sit next to my goddaughter. You get her all the time,” he pointed out and ducked into the car.

Helpless, you climbed in after him and pulled the door closed. In the back of the SUV, there was no way for your bodies not to touch. By necessity, your arms and thighs pressed together, his body solid and warm. You didn't want to draw attention to yourself by squirming away even though your heart was beating double-time and you were at a loss as to what to do with your hands.

Thankfully, the car started moving, and by the time you made it onto the highway you had almost gotten used to the feeling of his muscled forearms and the smell of his cologne. You were focusing on the passing landscape as he made small talk with Mike and Julie, so it caught you unawares when he turned to you and said, “So - it seems we’re paired up for the wedding. I’m sorry about you and Whatshisface, by the way.”

Here we go… “I know that you name his name, Jake.”

“Do I? Persona non grata. I must have erased him from my memory chip.” He was grinning like the cat who caught the canary, and there was something about the twinkle in his eye that made you glare daggers at your brother, who was looking suspiciously blank-faced sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my God, Mike, what did you tell him?”

“Nothing! I just said you two broke up and that he’s with Mia now.”

“That cow,” Julie put in.

“Okay, time out!” you called, doing the motion with your hands. “As much as I appreciate this show of familial solidarity, it’s really not necessary. Josh and I are cool.”

“Well, we’re not!” Mike said.

“Then be cool, Mike! And you!” You wagged your finger in front of Jake. He stared at it like it was the most amusing thing in the world. “You just got here. Do you really want to spend the rest of the week picking fights that have nothing to do with you?”

Evidently, the answer was yes, but he raised his hands in a facetious show of surrender. “Hey, I never liked the guy.”

“Dude, neither did I!” Mike crowed.

“What? You never said anything!”

“I’ve always said that - haven’t I, babe?”

“Mike, you say a lot of things,” Julie drawled.

“…including the fact that I never liked the guy! Him and his beady little eyes—”

“He gets hay fever!” you defended. “That’s not his fault!”

“—and the fact that he stayed in the apartment—”

“I wanted to move out! Julie, a little help here?”

“Hey, I don't like the guy either.”

“What?” You were flabbergasted. You thought that everyone liking Josh was the whole reason why they felt communally betrayed by the breakup. Now they were acting like the spearheads of an anti-Josh conspiracy? “Are you seriously telling me this six years after the fact? You went to games with him!”

“Wait, you went to games with Josh Spritzer?” Jake balked, his voice going up an octave while Mike went red in the face.

“I was in a dark place, man. Julie was pregnant and you weren't around… It was a case of the pre-baby blues!”

“I feel like you just admitted to cheating on me. Josh Spritzer?”

“Hey!” you warned.

“I mean, I guess it’s all a matter of taste, sweetheart…”

“Seresin, what the hell!”

“…although God knows I never knew what you saw in him—”

“Oh, didn't you?”

“Hey, I love you all sooo much,” Julie piped up from the passenger seat, “Jake, I’m happy you’re here, but will you all shut up so Gilly can sleep?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Though Jake sobered up, the provoking glint remained in his eyes. Once more you were aware of his closeness and the heat of his skin.

“Unbelievable…” you said underneath your breath, crossing your arms, your reward being another one of Jake’s dazzling smiles.

When you arrived, the reunion was as rowdy as you expected. About two dozen Seresins and their closest friends and family had convened at Jake’s childhood home. Amanda cried when she saw her favorite cousin coming towards her, and she excitedly introduced him to her husband-to-be, a bookish engineer named Christian who came from a small family and seemed as flattered as he was overwhelmed by all the attention.

Dinner was served outdoors, buffet style. The backyard was strung up with twinkling lights and music played from a pair of speakers stationed at the back porch. The air was festive and full of hope; it was easy to get caught up in the pre-wedding bliss when you were well-fed, your glass never empty, the company some of your most loved people in the world.

Josh - thank God - was not in attendance. He was supposed to walk down the aisle with you. Your save-the-date and wedding invitation had arrived labeled with his name along with yours, the assumption being that of course your long-term, live-in boyfriend would be your date. After you’d broken up, Amanda had to reshuffle her arrangements to keep you as one of her bridesmaids, the only upside being that Jake’s uncertain attendance made him your perfect partner.

Well, perfect for Amanda, if not for you.

At some point in the night, after speeches had been made and dessert served, Jake took the seat next to you to chat with his great-aunt Sandy and her boyfriend, Clyde. The apple pie came courtesy of Mrs. Seresin, who had the best recipe in the county and probably the entire state of Texas, in your limited and yet eager opinion. You demolished it with aplomb and once you finished, Jake pushed his plate towards you, the crust untouched. “Have at it.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“I know it’s your favorite part.”

The fact that he remembered made you feel sixteen again, watching him come home from university, crushed at knowing that he had a whole life you didn't know about, people he knew who were probably far more interesting, sophisticated and self-assured. He joined the Navy, and then moved out west while you stayed behind in your hometown, stationary while he took to the skies.

He had always been nice to you, for all that he enjoyed teasing you and even making fun of you on occasion. But that didn't mean you would ever be anything more to him than his best friend’s sister, someone he indulged in the same way as Amanda.

You excused yourself from the table, picking up plates as a pretense to head inside and get a few moments to yourself. This was exactly the reason why you hadn't wanted Jake to come home. Selfishly, in your heart of hearts, you had prized your own comfort above Amanda’s happiness, which made you feel like a Grade-A jerk, but you weren't ready to confront the way he made you feel after all this time. How could you explain to yourself, let alone anyone else, that you were holding out for a fantasy you’d had since you were young?

Suddenly, the presence of everyone you’d known and loved all your life felt oppressive rather than a source of delight. You poured yourself a glass of wine from one of the open bottles on the counter and went out to the Seresins’ front porch. From there, the sounds of the party seemed far away and you let out a sigh of relief. You sat on the ledge with your back to one of the vertical beams, watching the night breeze move the branches on the trees and the clouds which obscured the waning moon. Gradually, your mind slowed its pace and you were able to enjoy the song of the night critters mingled with the distant music of someone - probably Clyde - strumming his guitar.

Your repose was broken by the screen door opening and then clattering shut behind you, making you turn your head to see Jake coming outside, just a touch sheepish but for the most part his usual Jake-self, out of his jacket and carrying a bottle of beer.

He lowered himself beside you, and after a moment’s silence, said, “So, how’ve you been? Aside from Whatshisface.”

You shot him a warning look. If he was bringing up Josh, it was only to tease you like he’d done in the car and you weren’t in the mood right now to be the butt of a joke - not when you felt so vulnerable about what he was to you. (Dammit… and of course this has to be a wedding.)

“What,” he said, gently cajoling, “I can’t ask?”

“About my personal life? You never used to care.”

“In high school, I don’t think I was supposed to care. And afterwards—”

“Afterwards, Hangman got a little too full of himself,” you quipped.

“Hey… that's… actually pretty accurate, I’m not gonna lie.” He took a swig of beer, laughing as he said it. The porch light threw his features into sharp relief and you gave yourself permission to look at him - really look at him - for the first time since he returned.

Setting aside that he was gorgeous as ever, he seemed less carefree than you remembered, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He appeared, well, like a grown-up, for lack of a better word. You wondered whether you were being unfair in making assumptions when you had both changed so much in the last decade, as people tended to do. He wasn’t just the dream guy in your head; he was so many things in his own right, and he was here with you, wanting to talk - and maybe trying to get to know you on an even field.

If only that wasn't another reason to love him.

“You seem different,” you said, hoping your voice wasn’t giving you away.

He looked at you for a few breaths, the corner of his mouth tipped up but the rest of his face serious. Then he shrugged in mock humility with a “What can I say, greatness suits me.”

“Idiot…” You shook your head and let out a snort, though on the inside you felt full of champagne - fizzy and bright because he was with you.

“How's the shop going?” he asked after a beat.

“Pretty well. We’re doing the flowers for Amanda’s wedding.”

“And you're bridesmaiding?”

“It’s hardly flying F-18s.”

“I think Amanda would disagree.”

“Well, it is her wedding,” you pointed out, “she’s—”

“Out of her mind,” Jake enounced.

“She’s excited,” you corrected even as a montage ran through your head of all the times Amanda had texted the wedding party’s WhatsApp group to say that “a catastrophe” had occurred or that today was the worst day of her life because “the linen photos do NOT reflect the true shade. I wanted SAGE green - doesn’t this look laurel to you?”

“She’s my cousin,” Jake went on. “In fact, she’s my favorite cousin - which is how I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that she’s the biggest bridezilla this side of the Mississippi. To being wedding buddies,” he said and held his beer out towards you, “’cause God knows we’re gonna need it.”

“Wedding buddies,” you said, and clinked your glass. You waited until he had a mouthful of beer to say, “So, how’s your love life these days?”

“O-ho!” He nearly choked. “We are not doing that.”

“That hardly seems fair!”

“Age before beauty, Cabbage: I still get to make a few of the rules.” Watching your face work into a grimace, he laughed. “You really do hate when I call you that, don't you? Look at you! It's like a full-body cringe!”

“Stop it!” you complained.

The unfortunate nickname started back when you were a kid and had a penchant for a particular Cabbage Patch doll, which, in hindsight, seemed like an emotional support object, thank you very much. You carried it around until you were forcibly parted during Kindergarten - hence, Cabbage Patch, which in time shortened itself to “Cabbage.” It was cute when your mom said it, but Jake?

“You don't seem to mind when Mike calls you that,” he replied.

You narrowed your eyes. “I’ve seen Mike in all sorts of undignified situations. It evens the playing field.”

“I’d say we've known each other almost as long.”

“It is not the same.”

“How come?”

“It’s just… not.”

“I’m getting nothing else out of you by way of an explanation, aren't I? Fine…” he dramatically sighed. “I guess I’ll stop calling you Cabbage.”

“You don't have to…”

“Nope, it's done, it's retired!”

“Thank you,” you said, a little embarrassed.

From the backyard came a round of applause as Clyde finished his song. Jake smiled at you, then leaned close with a devilish glint in his eye. “Are you sure you're okay with the whole Josh thing? We can always make it our mission to make him insanely jealous.”

You scoffed. “Please, he would never buy that. You and me? He’d see right through it.”

“I want you to know that your lack of faith in my abilities is deeply, deeply hurtful. I’m just saying! You haven't seen me in action!”

“Oh, I’ve seen you in action, alright…”

“There she is!” he cackled.

You hoped the laughter meant he’d missed the note of jealousy in your voice. “Besides, I don't care about making him jealous,” you said with a shrug. “He and Mia are good together.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah… Okay, look,” you sighed, “the only reason I’m telling you this is because you're not them, so I’d better not hear a word from Mike about anything I’m about to tell you. Deal?”

He nodded, and mimed zipping his lips closed for dramatic effect.

“There’s just… no sob story about it,” you began. “By the time it was over, it was almost a relief. And honestly? If it hadn't been for our families, we would've broken up ages ago.”

“What was wrong with him?”

By the look on his face, it was like he expected you to say he had a funny snore or that he chewed too loudly or had an extra head. If only the truth were that tangible. He wasn't mean to you, didn't cheat. But he wasn't Jake. He didn't make you excited to wake up in the morningz

“By the end, we were more like roommates than boyfriend and girlfriend,” you explained. “I mean, when it happened, did I want to claw Mia’s face off, knowing she’d been angling for an opening for years? Of course I did. But that was more about my pride than anything. I wasn't heartbroken. I’m not,” you insisted. “But telling them that would feel like ruining Christmas. They're having fun slinging mud on my behalf.”

“And maybe just a tiny part of you enjoys it?” Jake asked.

“If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.”

He laughed. “Do you really think I’m above a bit of harmless spite? Hell, I practically wrote the playbook. But what you said - about your pride being hurt? That goes for him too, you know. He doesn't have to buy the whole thing, he just has to see you moving on. Trust me, it’ll hurt.”

“Maybe I don't care enough to hurt him.”

Jake studied you, his eyes shining in the warm glow. “You really have grown up,” he said at last. “I, on the other hand—”

“Oh, come on. Jake, you’re all talk, always have been.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The summer before your junior year,” you pointed out, “you spent nearly all of it replacing Will Delonge’s wooden fence and you told no one about it. The only reason I know is because Mom found out—”

“Your mom finds out about everything,” Jake lamented.

That she did. “You helped Arn McCallister with his math grade,” you added. “You asked Gina to dance at the Winter Ball when her friends made that bet—”

“Some friends,” he interjected. “I swear, Fiona Brussaurd still scares the shit out of me. What, were you keeping tabs on me all through high school?”

“Everyone was keeping tabs on you all through high school,” you confessed. “You were Jake Seresin, Hometown Hero. You still are. You could probably get away with murder.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. If you weren't mistaken, there was a tinge of pink in his cheeks, but it might have been the beer he finished, or a play of the light. “Actually, I can’t. Semper Fortis, remember? You can't fly planes in prison. Besides, I am way too pretty for that uniform.”

“And you always do that,” you replied. “Try to throw people off the scent of you being an actually decent guy. But I know the truth,” you pointed out. “You have a tell.”

“Really, what's that?”

Over the course of the conversation Jake had angled towards you without your notice; now, your knees were touching and his upturned mouth was close enough to kiss. Your heart was racing in your chest, and yet his gaze was like a challenge - don’t back down, he seemed to say, and that was all Jake. He was exhilarating, just by being himself.

You dared to draw even closer, as if whispering a secret. “Mothers love you.”

“Maybe I’m just really good at pretending.”

“Take the hit, Seresin. No one is that good.”

Smiling, he nudged your knee and leaned back on his hands, sitting with you until the first early-nighters began to leave.

Amanda Seresin was two years older than Jake. Her dad, Jake’s uncle, passed away when Amanda was fourteen, and ever since, Jake and his parents had taken her and Dinah under their wings. Jake was the closest thing she had to a brother, and though he was younger, you knew Jake was incredibly protective of her and his aunt, so you were determined not to ruin his wedding experience by being a lovestruck weirdo.

After your time together on the porch, that might prove difficult for you. But this was about Amanda. She assigned you to be his date, and you were going to be a professional about it.

Literally. You were handling the flowers, after all.

“These are a little tall, aren’t they?” your mom asked, fretting over the tulips at the center of one of the guest tables. “I asked for measurements, but now that they’re here…”

You glanced at your watch. “We have time to fix them.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, mom, all of them. Let’s take them into the kitchen, then we can rush up and change before the cocktails start.” You knew she wouldn’t have a speck of peace if she didn’t get them trimmed. She would fret and fuss, and probably commit floral kidnapping crimes when it all got too much. She liked everything to be perfect, especially for the people she loved, so you ignored the time crunch and your watch yelling at you that it was 4:35, twenty-five minutes before guests were due to arrive for drinks and canapés, and, signaling for your dad to help gather up the centerpieces, you rushed into the venue’s kitchen and started trimming down with the nearest pair of garden shears.

Your mom breathed a sigh of relief when the task was done and a few of the earliest guests offered to help carry the vases back to the tables, giving you enough time to head upstairs and put on the blue dress you’d brought in a garment bag.

So you were fussing about your looks… That didn’t mean you were not chill, it just meant you wanted to look nice… for Amanda. For the photos. It had nothing to do with Jake Seresin at all.

By the time you made it down - finally, and a little late since you spent more on it than usual perfecting your makeup - there were about sixty people on the lawn, nibbling on pulled pork sliders and mac-and-cheese bites, mini tacos and bacon-wrapped dates. You spotted your dad grabbing one of everything and your mom pulling on his sleeve, probably to hiss, “Pace yourself, hon.” She had a glass of champagne in one hand, more as a prop, since half of her attention was spent surveying her work as if anticipating one of the centerpieces to go up in flames.

Knowing her, she might have packed a tiny fire extinguisher in that glittery, silver clutch.

You stifled a laugh, grabbing a plate and a few of the canapés from a passing waiter. The rehearsal dinner was a much bigger affair than the barbecue Jake’s parents had thrown for close friends and family the night before. You knew Josh would be in attendance (probably with Mia) and so would a lot of your high school crowd. Letting out a sigh, you threw your shoulders back and tried to look relaxed, exchanging greetings as you mingled with the growing number of guests. It was a beautiful night. God must love Amanda, as He should, because the weather was balmy in a pleasant way, warm enough that the ladies could throw off their wraps and show off their dresses, the men leave their jackets draped over chairs.

The venue was a little bed and breakfast with a sprawling back patio and hedges that grew around the property, gracefully unkempt, with magnolia trees in bloom. You said hello to your old History teacher, a small, soft-spoken woman with a gray bob and tortoiseshell glasses dangling on a chain. In turn, she had taken personal interest in Amanda, Jake, and then you - she was the whole reason Amanda went into teaching, and you heard Jake mention once that he wouldn’t have joined the Navy if not for her. Sometimes, you felt a little self-conscious about not having more to show for your education, but Ms. Beauchene never made you feel like your life choices were a disappointment. She popped into the flower shop on occasion, pleased with her paper-wrapped bouquets, and no matter what, without fail, you’d ring her up and she’d say with full honesty, “These are going to make my week,” before she walked out humming.

You were glad Amanda included her in the rehearsal, especially when you spotted Josh walking in with his arm around Mia’s waist. Excusing yourself, you made for the bar and ordered one of the signature cocktails, Amanda’s favorite blackberry bourbon smash, and downed half of it before turning back and making small talk as if your life depended on it. Strangely enough, it wasn’t the sight of Josh that had you feeling like the inside of your brain was crawling with ants. It was Mia. You hated the thought of her seeing any kind of weakness in you - that she might take in your appearance and think that your hairdo was messy or that your eyes looked a little dark, and assume from it that she’d left you a human wreck after her little victory.

Without a doubt, Mia had attended the Fiona Brussaurd School of Mean Girls, and the last thing you wanted to do was appear like the lesser creature. So when your family began to fuss under the pretense of “casually” making conversation, you swatted them away, feeling grateful when dinner was announced and everyone could retreat to their neutral corners.

You chose to sit at a table with a few old school friends, one of whom was also in the wedding party, and to avoid the meaningful looks Julie had been sending you all evening, you sat with your back to the rest of the guests, enjoying the hour of relative peace and reminiscing, the view of an ornamental fountain set with warm lights, and your plate of pan-seared sea bass and cheesy potatoes. Gradually, the music shifted from sit-down easy listening to dancing tunes, and the people at your table began seeking out partners or joining those already on the lawn who were spinning and jiving in every available space.

Soon, you were alone at the table. You leaned back in your chair, enjoying the breeze against your face. If you closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of music and laughter, you could almost forget all the drama with your ex…

You felt a tap on your shoulder. Looking up, you saw Jake and his movie-star grin. The butterflies started banging around your stomach again. Forget the tulips, you were the one with your nerves all in a tangle tonight.

“Hey, stranger - ’nother drink?” he asked, offering you another of the bourbon cocktails. He had a rocks glass in his other hand, and without waiting for an invitation he took the chair next to you, throwing his arm across the back of yours.

You replied, “Yes, please,” trying not to melt into his touch. Nuzzling against him like a cat would not be chill, you reminded yourself, even if he did look incredible with his open dress shirt collar and the little peek of his chest made you feel like a Victorian with the vapors.

He lounged in that casual way of his, attractive without trying. “These things really go on forever, don't they?”

“And it’s just the rehearsal dinner.”

“What happened to getting married on a Tuesday while everyone’s at work?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you just quote Runaway Bride?”

His face went still. “What, no.”

“Yes, you did!” you exclaimed, setting down your drink and straightening in your seat. Jake looked mildly panicked and was doing his best to look innocent, which you found absolutely hilarious. “Oh my God, are you a closet romcom man?”

“It must've been subconscious.”

“Subconscious, my ass,” you shot back.

“She looks happy.” Jake tipped his head towards Amanda despite the fact that she was behind you both, out of sight, and clearly being used as a way to change the subject. “You know the guy?”

“You met him yesterday,” you said. And I know what you're doing implicit was in your tone.

Jake shrugged, an expert at deflection. “Yeah, but it's hard to tell what a guy’s made of from a single meeting.”

Deciding that the accusation of Romcomitis would go unanswered on this particular occasion, you tested the limits of his cool under pressure, pretending to deliberate before you played along with the conversational shift.

“D’you want to hear the absolute worst thing I can think to say about him?”

Jake went battle-ready, poised to hate the guy. You watched his shoulders and the set of his jaw change, and it made you want to touch the side of his face and kiss the frown away, laughing as you did.

Just messing with you, you would say.

It would be so easy. Maybe the fantasy was clouding your judgment - along with your third cocktail of the night - but you could feel in your body that being with Jake would be as natural as breathing.

You looked over your shoulder, watching Christian lean into Amanda to whisper something into her ear.

He had his hand on her arm and looked a little spooked, probably because one of the Seresins’ honorary aunts, Jackie, who was known for her tell-it-like-it-is comments, no matter how indiscreet, was walking away. Poor guy. Amanda giggled at whatever he said and stroked his hand, whispering back words of reassurance. Their demeanor together was easy, full of shorthand. And Amanda did look happy - so happy that it made you a little jealous, pleased as you were that she had found her person.

Jake followed your gaze, watching them alongside you.

“He's a little dull,” you explained. “But in a good way. He mellows her out.”

“Amanda? That sounds like an impossible task. But I can see it…” He cocked his head. “I think.”

You turned your eyes back to your own table. Jake was fiddling with his glass, watching the amber liquid swirling around the oversized iced cube. He looked pensive, a furrow appearing between his brows that, in another life, you would have stroked away.

He shook his head and raised the glass to his lips. “You don't realize how much you've missed…”

Before you could think about it, you had your hand on his arm. “Hey, no one's keeping score.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Then don't,” you insisted. “You do what you've gotta do - we all know that. Your parents know it, Amanda knows it. She’s just happy you're here.”

You could tell that, as much as he appreciated your words, they weren't enough to sweep away all the moments he hadn't been around to see. It didn't matter that Jake loved flying planes, that he was proud to be one of the best naval aviators in the service, and wouldn't change his career for the world. He was still in a position where he had to ask you what Amanda’s future husband was like. He had missed his goddaughter’s christening, had to rush out of Mike and Julie’s wedding five years ago… He’d made an oath, and for as long as he wore the uniform, his first commitment was to something other than his family. Other than himself.

He spoke his next words quietly, almost to himself, just for you.

“You know, the thing about flying is that when you're up there, nothing else matters. It can’t. All of your focus, all of your faculties, your energy… they're in the air. Meanwhile, all of this real life… the thing we’re meant to be safeguarding for everyone else, it doesn't stop, and when you land right back in the middle of it—”

He stopped.

“Yeah?” You were hanging on for the rest of it, eager for these little pieces of Jake that you stored up even after he was gone.

“I mean, it feels like yesterday since I left for college, signed up. Now Amanda’s getting married, Mike’s having kids, you are having just the worst luck of the year…”

“Hey!” you laughed.

“I’m kidding, kidding!”

“You’re sounding like an old man, Jake. You're thirty-two - pull yourself together. Jeez! Who knew Top Gun would make you so existential? Is that why you're self-medicating with classic romantic comedies?”

“If you ever tell Mike, I swear to God—” He pointed his finger at you, and you pinched it in two of yours, earning a chuckle and a childish attempt at a thumb-war game that was interrupted when the bride herself came up behind you and threw her arms around you both with a “Hey, you two!”

“Mands!” Jake exclaimed, craning his neck to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Having fun?”

“Absolutely. So, so much—”

“You big fibber,” Amanda threw back. “Why are you here? Go dance!”

“Can’t. I’m keeping my date company, and a gentleman never abandons his date. It’s in the rules.”

“Good thing I know you're not a gentleman. You're in my wedding party!” she said. “It’s up to you two to set a good example for the other guests.”

“Yes, ma’am. Shall we?” He offered you his hand, throwing Amanda a look that said, See? I’m following orders.

She smiled back, giving you room to rise from your chairs and circle round. With her arms crossed, she watched as you found an open space, making sure you’d followed through before seeking out her next victims.

As bad luck would have it, the song switched from something uptempo to an Ashley Monroe ballad, romantic strings and all. “Has anybody ever told you/ that when you walk into a dark room/ the light of a thousand moons surround you?/ Yeah, there's just something about you./ Has anybody ever told you?”

It was stupid, but the words felt so real with Jake’s hands on you that you were worried he’d be able to read your mind or see on your face that you meant every sentence. You tried looking anywhere else, at the other couples, the catering staff picking up empty glasses, at your mom fluffing a perfectly decent bouquet, anywhere but at Jake.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” you asked, eyes darting nervously at being caught red-handed.

“Tense up like I’ve got the plague,” Jake said. “You’re making this weird.”

“I’m making what weird?”

“We’re dancing!” He pressed one hand against your hip, the other into your lower back. “Just dance!”

“By which I’m sure you mean, ‘just follow my lead’?”

You didn't mean to sound so prickly, you were just panicking and trying to throw Jake off the scent. This does not constitute playing it cool, you scolded yourself. But instead of taking it badly, Jake laughed as he stared down at you.

“If you like. Or I can follow yours if it makes you feel any better. Here, you can put your hand on my waist - but leave room for Jesus.”

“Dork.”

“There we go,” he cajoled, swaying with you in time to the beat. “Letting you insult me seems to really get your engines going. We should analyze that.”

“Don’t you ever stop talking?”

“I don’t know, do I?” He cackled out loud at the dark look you sent his way, stroking your back in a way that meant absolutely nothing, but which you felt all the way down to your toes. “You make it too easy,” he added.

Jake’s sense of humor made it hard to stay self-conscious. Eventually, you eased into the dance and you were almost sorry when the song switched to something a little more upbeat that didn't require him to stand so close to you. Still, he twirled you in a circle and brought you back into the solid curve of his body, showing off.

Then, out of nowhere, his face worked into a scowl as he spotted something a few yards to your right. You turned your head to see what it was, so lost in the moment that it took a few seconds for you to register that Josh was dancing with Mia, quite well, actually, to the Texas Tornados.

“Look at that schmuck.”

“Jake…” you warned.

“What? It’s just an observation, I’m not saying it for your benefit.”

“She looks incredible,” you sighed. On anyone else, the dress she had on would make them look like a costume disco ball, but on Mia it looked modern and chic, showing off her body and matching well with a slicked back bun and dangly earrings.

Jake’s shoulder rose and fell beneath your hand. “If you say so. She’s not really my type.”

Are you serious? “Jake, just about every woman is your type.”

“I’m sorry, are you slut-shaming me right now? In this political climate? I could have you canceled for that.”

“Ha-ha,” you said in response. “I mean, look at her, she is objectively a 10 - don’t say you wouldn’t. Hell, I would if I were inclined that way… Don’t!” You pinned Jake with a warning stare, cutting off the joke that was on the tip of his tongue and dying to come out.

“Well, I wouldn’t now,” he said instead.

“Gee, thanks.”

“For the sake of our friendship.”

The word made you tense up again - not on purpose, it was an automatic reaction you wanted to take back as soon as you went stiff all over again. And it didn't escape Jake’s notice.

“What?” he questioned, cupping your shoulders and shaking you a little as a gag. “Oh my God, have you ever thought about taking up yoga? Meditation?”

“Flying lessons?” you shot back.

“Hey, don’t knock it. Compared to you, I am a very chilled-out person.” You rolled your eyes, not wanting to admit that he was right. No matter what was going on inside Jake, he knew how to keep a calm exterior. You’d always admired that about him. With the exception of your dad, your family wasn't known for its cool under pressure. Even Mike could be a bit of a basket case. That’s why he and Julie worked so well together.

You sighed again, wondering if you’d ever find your own version of Christian or Julie, someone who fit with all of your wonky parts and made you feel, regardless of circumstance, that everything would turn out okay.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” You looked at Jake, startled by the remark and the heat rushing into your face. He was dead serious. The levity you saw in his eyes had nothing to do with his tone, which was kind but not pitying. And you knew Jake would never say something like that if he didn’t mean it. “Not that it’s a competition,” he tacked on, “I’m just saying… don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure he’s eating his heart out right now.”

“And how would you know a thing like that?”

“Because he hasn’t stopped looking at us for the last sixty seconds.”

Your gaze drifted off to the side before Jake took your chin in his hand, his touch gentle and yet firm.

“Don’t look!” he chided. “Jesus… That’s recon 101 - I’ve got your six, you keep dancing and pretend we’re not talking about him, you amateur!”

“Sorry! You’re so bossy!” you grumbled, fighting off another blush.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea.”

The word zinged through your body along with the killer Jake Seresin dimpled grin, and to make matters worse, he twirled you again, laughing when he brought you to rest your back against his chest. Josh froze when he saw you, spotting Jake’s hands on your waist. But you couldn’t care less - you were breathless, with Jake’s mouth close enough to kiss, reminding you of his knee nudge on the porch and his arm beneath your hand.

For a moment, you could almost believe that he was flirting with you for real. If you turned your head, would he accept the press of your mouth against his? Would he push you away or pull you in closer, regardless of your families watching and Josh staring, almost open-mouthed, like he couldn’t believe Jake fucking Seresin would give you the time of day?

Before you could make a choice, the song ended and Jake released you from his grip, keeping a hand on your back as he herded you away from the dance floor and to the bar, where he ordered a beer and asked if you wanted something. If you answered, you weren’t aware. You felt not in control, your stomach all in knots and the memory of Jake’s touch seared into your skin. A part of you still wanted desperately to kiss him and the other wanted to rush into the B&B and burst into tears from sheer confusion. Meanwhile, Jake seemed perfectly fine, chatting with the bartender on duty and leaning against the counter as he dropped a few bills into the tip jar.

“What are you doing?” you asked when you felt him touching you on the shoulder.

“Pretending you have lint on your dress.”

“Hey! On the dance floor was one thing, but I am not aiming to make this entire weekend about making my ex jealous. Any high school dude-vendetta you have against Josh should be addressed on your own time, you psycho. Besides, he’s never going to actually buy it.”

“Alright.” Jake threw up his hands, lowering the charm down a few watts. Your drinks were set down on a pair of square cocktail napkins and you took up yours, a fizzy gin thing with lemon that made you wonder whether you shouldn’t have stuck with bourbon to avoid going around with a hangover on Amanda’s wedding day.

Jake went on. “But I’m really not liking all this negative self-talk, you know. Mia might be a 10, but at most he’s, like, a 6…”

“Oh, be quiet!”

“You’re an 8.”

“What?” The alcohol either rushed up to your head or evaporated completely. How the hell did Jake manage to say things that left you completely dumbfounded and without a single intelligent thought in your head? And he did it with a smile! This one was purposefully subdued as he waved around with the beer in his hand as if making a profound point.

“You’re way out of his league. Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed?”

“Okay, well…”

“You’re blushing!” he remarked. “That’s adorable.”

“You’re not funny, Seresin.”

“Hey, I joke about a lot of things, but I don’t go around handing 8s to just anyone.”

“Oh, look, they’re bringing out coffee.” The needle was tipping firmly towards the need to escape, though it wasn’t that serious - you knew it wasn’t; Jake had a tendency to be a flirt and he usually didn’t mean anything by it. Sometimes, it could even be amusing to play along, to get swept up in his wit and the light of his attention. But you didn’t want to play. And you didn’t want to seem ungrateful for his company because you weren’t. You loved every precious second you got to spend with him, knowing he’d be off to California soon and that the next time you might see him could be months or even a year from now.

Getting your hopes up would be a mistake, and you were dangerously close to doing it.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He touched your elbow gently. You wished he couldn’t read you so well. Or that he could read you better, and see what you had been trying to say to him for years but were too scared to utter.

You did your best to smile. “Nothing’s wrong. You don’t have to hover all night. Go, take a load off, have fun.”

“I am having fun,” he said, frowning. “Aren’t you?”

“I was. I am,” you corrected, frustrated with yourself for not taking it better. For not being cool and together and the sort of girl who took charge and damned the outcome. She would’ve kissed Jake when she had the chance. She would have shown up to California. Hell, she would’ve made her move ages ago instead of pining, pathetically, and letting twenty years go by.

That’s what Mia had done. And that’s why she had her dream guy - your former guy - while you were exactly in the same position, too tongue-tied to take a shot.

“Just… can you give me some space?” you blurted out, your frustration bleeding through.

The hurt in Jake’s expression was there and gone in a lightning flash, but you’d seen it and you felt terrible about it. Before you could say anything to make it better, he’d replaced it with a devil-may-care smile.

“Got it,” he said, his voice a little tight around the edges. “Well… I’ll make myself scarce. Holler if you need me.”

With that, he took his beer and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to weave your way through oblivious partygoers to find the nearest ladies’ room, where you locked yourself in a stall and tried not to ruin your makeup with the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

Hindsight was a bitch. The next morning you were sure you’d overreacted, made a fool of yourself and created a potentially awkward situation now that the wedding day was upon you and you had to take his arm, in - you glanced at the digital clock on your nightstand - five-and-a-half hours, and walk with him down the aisle wearing a smile for the sake of the photographers.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands and calling yourself every name in the book.

Jake had promised to be your wedding buddy and then sweetly kept his word, and what did you do in response? Completely freak out, you scatterbrained nincompoop.

As penance, you threw yourself into the arrangement of the reception flowers, channeling your mother while you directed the staff this way and that, trying not to think about Jake and the mortifying apology that awaited you. It was the right thing to do - not only to clear the air but because he hadn't deserved being chewed out in a momentary panic, and you knew you wouldn't feel right with yourself if you didn't take the blame and say your mea culpa.

But boy were you dreading it.

“You should head out now, Cabbage,” your mom advised around eleven o'clock. “Dad and I can handle the rest and you should be with Amanda, spend some time with the girls before the big event.”

“Are you sure you don't need help with the aisle arrangements?” A cowardly attempt, but you did it anyway.

“We’ve got it,” Mom repeated, turning you around and all but shepherding you into the parking lot. She waved you off with a “have fun,” and you couldn't help your brain’s internal response of “fat chance.”

All the way to the B&B you kept rehearsing what you might say to Jake when you saw him, but by the time you pulled up and found a free parking space, you were sweating, physically and metaphorically, and thinking that, maybe, if you listened to TED Talks rather than Dateline, you might have an enlightened response to your current dilemma.

You fetched your bagged bridesmaid's dress from the trunk of the car, along with your makeup bag and hair tools. You’d have to use the shower before you started getting ready, but you were looking forward to get-ready champagne and a throwback playlist. Anything to feel more like your normal self and less like a silly teenager who couldn’t talk to boys.

You went up three flights of stairs to reach the bridal suite. From both sides, you could hear music spilling out into the hall, an ABBA classic clashing with Brett Young. Automatically, you placed your hand on the doorknob leading towards bouncy 80s pop only for it to turn and spring open, revealing Jake with an undone bow tie hanging around his neck.

It could be that your mouth sprung open, not expecting to see him that abruptly and without giving yourself your planned thirty-second pep talk.

Your mind went blank. All you could do was stare at him like an idiot as he pointed across the hall and said, “Bridal suite’s that way.”

“Yeah, it was…”

“The Super Trouper? Groom’s choice.”

“Are you sure it wasn't yours?” The joke spilled out of your mouth, landing awkwardly to your own ears. But Jake smiled anyway, glancing down as he let the door close behind him.

He rubbed the side of his freshly shaved cheek. “I’m headed down to the front desk, by the way. I swear I’m not stalking you.”

You deserved that. So instead of cringing down into the floor - which was what you really wanted to do - you took the hit and said, “I didn’t think you were.”

“About last night…”

“I’m sorry for flying off the handle. I’m just… a little stressed,” you cut him off. It was an understatement, and not totally honest, but it was the best you could do without getting into the embarrassing particulars.

From the groomsmen’s side, Britney Spears followed ABBA, singing, “Oops, I did it again,” which seemed perversely apropos and just another reminder that you were a puppet of fate. Presently, you had to be paying for God knows what sin - probably calling Mike a buttface all those years before.

“Hey, I get it. I wasn’t trying to be clingy,” Jake went on.

“You’re not! You’re a good friend… Thank you.”

It pained you to say it, but you figured now was as good a time as any to face facts: you only had a few more days together, and you didn't want to spend them all wasting what you had, wishing it would turn into something else. Friendship with Jake was good enough. He was kind and loyal and honest; hell, anyone would be lucky to have him in their corner.

Maybe what you needed was a little gratitude. It was a wedding day, after all. Your friends and family would all be gathering in a few hours to celebrate Christian and Amanda and they had chosen you to be a special part of their most important day. How cool was that?

“Can we just not talk about Mia and Josh today?” you asked, hefting the garment back up your shoulder. “I want to focus on Amanda and make sure she has a nice time at her wedding - get drunk but not sloppily so, take a few pictures, dance a bit, not feel like everyone’s waiting for the Jerry Springer shoe to drop?”

“We can do that,” Jake replied.

“Okay. Thanks.”

“See you on the other side?”

“You bet.”

He went down the hall, turning right and bounding the carpeted stairs. You watched him go with a sigh, deciding that it was hard to be a grown-up and lovelorn at the same time. The two things were so incompatible - liking someone, loving them even, felt utterly undignified.

Nonetheless, you could breathe a lot easier after clearing the air. With the apology out of the way, you threw yourself into full bridesmaid mode, squeezing into the cramped bathroom with five other women in customized robes who were curling, straightening, powdering, talking, fighting for counter space, gasping at gossip, and being an overall flurry of chaos while the bride reigned over all, putting in comments through the haze of hair- and setting spray.

The air in the room was joyous, with a smattering of nervous energy mostly provided by Amanda.

Once dressed in your different styles of champagne satin, the bridesmaids focused on making sure Amanda was ready for her starring role. You took turns doing up the buttons on the back of her wedding gown, and when Dinah popped in to give her a pair of diamond earrings she wore to her own wedding, there wasn't a dry eye in the room. “Do not let my mascara run!” Amanda urged, prompting Carrie, the maid of honor, to jokingly rush forward with a folded-up Kleenex and dab at her eyes.

The groomsmen left for the wedding venue first, piling into a shuttle after yelling well-wishes through the door. Fifteen minutes later you followed suit, with Ali O’Rourke pouring canned cocktails into plastic cups and filming the journey at the same time as her phone blasted Taylor Swift (“But none of the breakup songs!”). In twenty minutes you were at the botanical garden, arranging the first look through a comical series of shouts and mimes partially obscured by a tall bush and caught on camera by the couple’s videographer. Once Christian had gotten the memo to stand there, at the edge of an ornamental pond but with his back to the azaleas, you pushed Amanda in his direction and waved her on, giving whistles and catcalls when he dipped her into a kiss that was very un-Christian-like and all the more romantic for that reason.

Once the wedding party photos were done, it was time to head inside and wait for the guests to arrive. You found that, like Amanda, you were feeling a little jittery now that patience was all that was required. From the double doors to the altar, it was a fairly long walk and you were worried that your heels would sink into the grass or that you would fall flat on your face. Luckily, you weren’t the only one with that fear. Amanda’s coworker, Lucy, who had never been a bridesmaid before, had a minor freakout, and talking her down helped you allay your own fears, as did the liquid courage courtesy of Ali’s dress having pockets.

(Amanda: “I don’t remember reading that on the website.”

Ali: “That’s because you didn’t. I had it tailored.”)

At last, the wedding coordinator called for everyone to take their places and Jake came towards you, looking smart in his tux. At the rehearsal dinner you’d heard Mike asking, “So, where’s the dress uniform?”, to which Jake replied, “And upstage you?” Well, uniform or not, you were sure he could upstage anyone. To you, he was the handsomest person in the room, and you were in danger of saying so until Jake beat you to the punch.

“Look at you, you clean up well!” he remarked.

“And you look terrible.”

“Now I know that’s a bald-faced lie.”

You laughed. Humble as always. You were glad to see that all the awkwardness between you had gone, in no small part because of the excitement over the ceremony. A sudden hush came over everyone as Harriet signaled for the doors to be opened. Jake held out his arm. “Shall we?” he said, echoing his words when he asked you to dance.

This time you were ready for it. No matter what, in this particular moment, you and Jake were allies - wedding buddies, he said - and instead of overthinking things or making a mountain out of a molehill, you were resolved to enjoy it.

You took his arm and faced forward. The first strains of music began. Showtime, Harriet mouthed, while at the altar Christian turned to meet his bride.

The ceremony was over in the blink of an eye, followed by a drinks reception and a sit-down dinner punctuated by toasts that ranged from the humorous to the downright sentimental. Now that Amanda had clipped up her train, she seemed more relaxed than she had been in the morning, and it made you feel like you could let down your hair, so to speak, and enjoy the party underneath the light-strewn tent.

The guests were eager to dance. Without letup they moved through classic wedding standards and modern dance hits to country reels and the obligatory playing of “Mr. Brightside,” a moment which Sandy and Clyde stole with their enthusiastic head-bops. You couldn't remember the last time you danced, or laughed, half as much, and even the appearance of Josh and Mia couldn’t steal your good mood. As long as they kept to their side of the tent, you could pretend they weren't there and if Mom or Julie sidled up with a comment in defense of your honor, it was easy to point a finger to your ear as if to say, “What? I can’t hear you, the music’s too loud!”

Jake kept close for the most of the night, leaning in close and making funny comments about the hidden goings-on - who was putting the moves on who, who was sneaking mini cupcakes into their purse, who got carted off to the indoor area after over-imbibing and nearly causing a minor dancefloor traffic incident.

Maybe it was all his Navy training, but for a guy’s guy Jake had an uncanny eye for gossip, and you said so, winning a laugh and another request for your oath of secrecy.

“I hate to tap out before Great-Aunt Sandy,” he said halfway through the Jailhouse Rock, “but do you want to take a breather? I feel like I’m getting a stitch in my side.”

“You? Sheesh, Hangman, you're really letting yourself go,” you chaffed. “What'll the higher-ups think when you get back to San Diego?”

“Well, if they really want to replace me, I’ll send them Aunt Sandy’s way.” He led you outside, where you promptly balanced one foot at a time trying to unclasp your heeled sandals while Jake watched, snorting before he took pity on you and let you lean on his arm.

His very muscled arm…

Inwardly, you sighed like one of the Bimbettes from Beauty and the Beast, but hey, you’d behaved yourself all day; you were allowed to have the occasional impure thought.

With a little sound of triumph, you managed to remove your shoes and held them by the straps, walking on the grass in your bare feet. You had a pair of flats in your purse, but that was somewhere inside and, anyway, the ground felt good against your tired arches. You’d been dancing for over two hours and needed the break.

“How do you even stand in those death traps?” Jake eyed your shoes as if they were hand grenades, which amused you to no end seeing as they’d cost you a small fortune precisely because they claimed to be comfortable.

“They’re not so bad,” you replied. “Besides, I wouldn’t need them if you weren’t so tall.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You shrugged, keeping your face deliberately blank. “It’s a free country.”

“Wow…” Jake huffed through a laugh, “you are incapable of just being nice to me.”

“What, I am nice!”

“In a backhanded-compliment sort of way, sure.”

“What do you want me to say? ‘Jake, you’re the biggest 10 at the wedding’?”

“Oh, I don’t know, but we’re getting warmer,” he said with a toothy grin, entering a path bordered by low hedges leading to the pond where the first look had taken place.

The lights from the wedding reception lit the way, along with the small solar-powered fixtures planted in the ground, but for the most part the darkness was a respite from the sights and sounds of the packed tent. In a way, it made it easier to talk to Jake, ignoring your history, feeling like a girl who’d been asked on a walk by someone who wanted to spend more time with her.

You laughed, leaning into the role of interested flatterer. You were walking backwards, even daring to place your hand on the front of Jake’s shirt, trusting him to lead the way and keep you from tripping into a bush. “You’re an incredible dancer,” you put in, going full Bimbette. You might have batted your eyelashes, and your voice took on the dreamy girlishness of Marilyn Monroe, which only gave Jake the giggles as he tried to maintain his yes, I am all the things composure. “You look as good in a tux as you do in your Navy uniform.”

“Both true.”

“You’re funny and smart, and soooo interesting.”

“Don’t I know it.”

You gasped, stopping in your tracks to place your hands on his cheeks. Jake was smiling from ear to ear, struggling to keep his lips pressed together. “You’ve got a face like an Old Hollywood dreamboat.”

He nodded solemnly, the slight clearing of his throat the only indicator that he was on the verge of breaking character. “You’re not the first person to say that, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm, does that surprise you? Do you disagree?”

“Of course not, this is the Jake Seresin Appreciation Hour.” You draped your arms around his neck. Maybe it was the cocktails or the distant wedding music making you bold, but Jake didn't pull away and you were only pretending - at least, that was your justification when you felt the weight of his hands on your hips.

“Go on, then.”

“Your eyes are green.”

“Now you’re just stating facts.”

“Fine, but you’re being a very picky subject!”

“I’ll have you know,” he scoffed, “Jake Seresin Hour was not my idea. You don’t get to institute it and then complain when I point out your lazy reporting.”

Lazy reporting? You were ready to duke it out over that and he knew it, his eyes alight with the challenge, head cocked to see what you’d come up with next. Your back hit the trunk of a live oak and you felt the adrenaline in your veins mixing with the alcohol and a sheer attraction that wouldn't be kept at bay. You wondered briefly whether this was what flying was like - a full-bodied, present physicality, all instinct, every move stretched taut and your nerves like live wires.

Jake glanced at your mouth and it left you breathless. Little wonder, then, that the next words out of your mouth were half confession, half part of the game.

“There’s not a single person at this party who isn’t head-over-heels in love with you.”

“Not a single one?” Jake argued. “Not even the groom?”

“Not even the groom.”

“Well, obviously, we’re not including my relatives in that.”

“But everyone else…” you trailed off.

“Everyone else. Including you?”

“Especially me.”

It’s just a game, it’s just a game. The thought kept clashing in your head with the urge to say “kiss me” and he was standing so close, with his body half pressed against yours, solid and warm, realer than any lust-fueled fantasy you could’ve come up with in the dead of night, the party forgotten with him as your only view, and you kept thinking, Maybe he wants me to. Maybe it wouldn't matter. Maybe I should do it - what would be the harm?

The answer to this final point was obvious, and yet he was hard to resist. His fingers brushed against your waist, the touch feather-light enough that it might have been in your imagination except for his forehead pressed down to yours, his heart beating steadily beneath your nervous hand.

Without debating it further you pulled him into a kiss, shutting your eyes against any possible consequences as you memorized the taste of his mouth, the weight of his hands sliding down your back, the heat of his breath. You pulled away, mortified by your lapse in judgment and the obvious proof of feelings which you now couldn't take back.

There was no undoing this, but still you tried.

“Oh, I’m sorry… I’m… I’m drunk… I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine.”

“No, I’m… I’m gonna go.” You slid past him, holding your breath, willing him not to follow after you or try to stop you from fleeing. Your body felt like it was short-circuiting, blazing with need and then doused in icy-cold regret and horror at your own actions.

So he had flirted with you. That didn't mean he wanted to kiss you; it certainly didn't signal any romantic interest that merited you throwing yourself at him and telling him, of all things, that you loved him!

You went back to the party, picking your purse up from behind your chair and forcing a smile when people stopped you to chat, making excuses and saying you had to go to the bathroom. Inside, you moved past the lobby and straight out to the drive, where the hired shuttle service was taking guests in no state to drive to and from a few local hotels.

The driver asked if you were ready to leave and you said yes, feeling mildly guilty for staging an Irish goodbye, but there was no way you could go on pretending for the rest of the night, let alone face Jake. You prayed that everyone would be too busy having fun to notice your absence, and if not you would apologize profusely tomorrow at brunch, claiming a headache or exhaustion or anything else that might obscure your bad decision-making and propensity to lose your shit around Jake.

You were let onto the bus, the sole passenger as the driver turned on the engine and radioed his boss to say he was en route to the B&B. Just as you were relaxing into your seat, Jake came bounding up the steps, giving the driver a cursory nod just before the doors closed behind him and the vehicle began to move.

“Can we talk?” he asked, sliding next to you and dropping his jacket in his lap.

“There are, like, fifty open seats.”

“But you’re sitting in this one,” he said with the ghost of a grin. You would've rolled your eyes if you weren’t busy wishing you could teleport to literally anywhere else.

You faced forward to the other cars on the road, watching their taillights shine as you moved into nighttime traffic. “Can you do me a favor? I know you’ve done a lot of them over the past couple of days, but can you just forget that ever happened?”

“No.”

Aghast, you turned your head to see Jake looking maddeningly smug, not to mention relaxed, while he was invading your personal space and driving you to the brink of mental collapse.

“Why not?” you demanded.

“Why not? Because I don’t want to.”

“And is what I want—”

“Completely irrelevant,” he finished for you. “Besides, you kissed me, remember?”

“I don’t. I’ve wiped it from my memory chip.”

With a smile, Jake leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips that was almost chaste, except for the brush of his tongue against your lip and his fingers cupping your chin in a hold that was teasing and gentle, and undeniably thought-out.

“How about that one?” he asked, pulling away just enough to view your reaction.

“How about what?”

He grinned. “Cabbage.”

“Ew! Why would you call me that right now?” you exclaimed, scooching back into the window.

“Because you’re adorable. Beautiful.”

“Like a leafy green?”

“Yeah, like a whole salad.”

You laughed. “That makes no sense.”

“It really doesn’t.” But it did. Like so many other inside jokes, you knew exactly what he meant to say. It made you feel all warm inside, especially because there was no trace of subterfuge in his handsome face, and you knew he’d never be cruel enough to lead you on. He followed you, he thought you were beautiful, and he was here trying to convince you not to take the kiss back.

To be bold. To follow through.

“If you want to keep being friends…” he began.

“You and Mike are just friends, Jake. I’m the kid sister with a massively pathetic crush on you.”

“Maybe I have a crush on you too,” he said, looking you straight in the eyes. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“A little… A lot, actually.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

In front of Pleasant View the driver pulled on the brakes, and Jake laced his fingers through yours as he dismounted and put a twenty in the tip jar, stopping in front of the entrance to face you with a question hanging, unspoken, in the air. If you let this opportunity pass you by, he would let you do it without a word, taking the gentleman’s way out and stopping his pursuit under the assumption that you had no interest in being with him, or in seeing where this new thing between you might go. But if you said yes…

The possibilities flashed through your mind, as frightening as they were wonderful. Everything might change. Everything would, there was no doubt about that. But change wasn’t always a bad thing, and if you had someone holding your hand along the way?

Wasn’t that what love was all about?

“You’re thinking very loudly,” Jake pointed out.

“Is that an issue?”

“Why, is it an issue for you?”

You shook your head, trying to contain the nervous joy in your chest. “Maybe you should take me flying sometime, teach me the ways of classic Hangman chill.”

“Just name the time and place,” he promised. “I’m ready when you are.”

Instead of second guessing, you took him at his word.

You reached up and kissed him fully on the mouth, sighing when he pressed you flush against his chest and carressed the nape of your neck. There was no predicting the future; that part would always be like navigating blind. But Jake was worth the risk. If nothing else, he was the sort of man who made you want to try, who took chances, and made you laugh through the terror of uncertainty.

In that moment, being lifted off the ground, physically swept off your feet by the man you’d loved since you’d first contemplated what love could be, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. And the best part? From the look on Jake’s face, you knew the exact thought running through his head:

Babe, the luck is all mine.

Man, you loved weddings.

#rosie.fic #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #tgm fic #tgm x reader #top gun maverick x reader #glen powell x reader

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mountainsandmayhem · 10 days ago

Text

BDSMaid - Chapter 8

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love. WC: 5.5k TW: I will put them below the cut for those who want to avoid spoilers. This is more of an original character, there have been some descriptions of reader throughout the series. A/N: How can I make a note when I have words?! I'm just so grateful for how many people have fallen in love with this story this year. It's crazy to me that I posted my first fan pic on December 23rd 2023, expecting about 3 people to see it and waking up to 100's of notifications. 2024 has literally been whirlwind, I've made so many wonderful ladies here and have grown more and more confident in my writing abilities. Thank you @lotusbxtch for being my forever beta for this series (probably an unhealthy crutch, but so be it haha). Thank you @for-a-longlongtime for letting me bounce ideas off of you and giving me a new insight to how sweet girl or Joel would think. @mermaidgirl30, @alltheirdamn and @littlevenicebitch69, what would I do if I couldn't scream about this story with you?! Ok eww, I'm done being sappy. Enjoy! Dividers and headers by @saradika-graphics

My Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: use of sex toys (vibrator and butt plug)

You

When you walked into your small apartment on Sunday, Odette was wrapped up in a blanket watching TV. She looked you up and down with a knowing smirk. It was pretty obvious based on the way Joel’s sweats and hoodie hung off your body that you were with a man all weekend. So, after she agreed to keep it between the two of you, you told her absolutely everything. It was freeing to finally be able to discuss Joel with one of your friends. The two of you spent almost six hours going over every detail of the last few weeks, and after ordering pizza and splitting a bottle of rosé, you had all the validation you needed. He loves you. And you love him, too.

As the weekend rolls into the week, you still have not come down from your happy, little Joel Miller-shaped cloud. There’s not a single doubt in your mind that he is it. You have never let your walls down with someone like you have with him. It was always easier to just do it on your own; you could always count on yourself. For the first time in your life, you can confidently say that you’re ready to let that go. It’s time for you to let someone take care of you for once. When he texts you on Monday to make plans for the following day, you decide that you’re going to tell him how you feel.

When Tuesday finally comes around, you practically skip up to his house. You have a duffle bag of items in one hand: your outfit for this evening, make up, and a change of clothes in case you spend the night. Wearing his clothing home was fun and all, but you won’t be doing any sort of walks of shame again. Clasped tightly your other hand is your company-provided caddy full of cleaning supplies. Just as you’re about to place the supplies on the front step, the large front door opens.

“Hi, Freckles,” Joel's voice coats every inch of your skin in warm honey. He shines an absolutely knee-weakening smile down at you. As per his usual JMKink attire, he’s in perfectly fitted black dress pants, expensive looking black dress shoes, and a pressed, crisp white dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled to his elbows and your mouth waters at the way his bare forearms look.

“Hi,” you beam up at him, not holding back your ear-to-ear grin as you glow under his attention. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here!”

“I have to leave soon, but I have something for you.” He steps out onto the front steps and grabs everything from you before you follow him inside. You change into the white keds that Jamie gave you on your first day at Maid Discreetly before heading towards where he’s standing in the kitchen. There are three boxes on the kitchen island; two small black ones and one white one that you recognize immediately. He pushes that one towards you first.

“This is your new iPhone,” he says with a wink and you feel your cheeks flush.

“Thank you,” you say shyly.

He shakes his head, “No, thank you for not fighting me on this. That cracked screen...”

“I know,” you say, raising a hand to stop him. You deepen your voice, “It’s a hazard, sweet girl.”

He laughs like he did that night at the Shibari class, deep and from his gut; it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard and your heart swells at the possibility of getting to hear that laugh for the rest of your life. “Exactly. These other boxes…well, they’re for you, but also for me.”

You raise your eyebrows curiously as he slides the smaller of the two black boxes across the smooth marble of the island. His bottom lip slips between his teeth as you pull the top off of the first box. Sitting on a bed of white tissue paper is a small metal plug with a pink heart-shaped diamond on the end.

“Mister Miller! Scandalous!” You gasp, feigning shock and surprise.

He laughs again as he asks, “Is that ok?”

“Very much so,” you respond with a smile before opening the next box, which is slightly bigger than the last. A black, U shaped piece of silicone sits in the box, along with a small plastic rectangle that looks similar to a key fob. “What’s this?”

“That, my sweet girl, is a remote vibrator. I was thinking that maybe you could wear both of those while you clean my house today. I can control that with the remote from a close distance or from my phone anywhere in the world.”

Every hair on your body stands on end as your clit throbs in excitement. “Yes, I would really, really like to do that!”

“Good girl,” he says with a wink, holding a hand out to you. His fingers link with yours and just the slightest touch from him sends sparks up your wrist and straight to your racing heart. He grabs your new toys and leads you up the stairs. Your giggle is laced with arousal when you come to a stop in his enormous ensuite. After placing the toys on the counter he pulls you in, his free hand cupping the back of your neck before he slams his lips into yours. He kisses you hungrily, and you meet his energy, kissing him back as if you’re drunk with passion. His teeth nip your bottom lip as he pulls away. You’re so insanely, maddeningly in love with this man that you almost forget how to stand as he steps back.

“Take off your pants, sweet girl.”

You do as he says, eagerly unbuttoning your company issued black dress pants before sliding them down your legs. He stops you before you remove your thong, breathing out a heady ‘fuck’ before hooking his thumbs through the bright pink lacy waist band and sliding them down your legs.

“Put your hands on the vanity and bend over for me,” he instructs with bated breath. He watches your reflection in the mirror, looking right into your soul as always, as you follow his instructions.

You smile lovingly at him, clocking the way his throat works as he swallows hard at the sight of you bending at the waist, pushing your ass out for him. “Fuck, how did I get so lucky? All of this, just for me?”

“Just you, Joel,” you breathe, slipping your bottom lip between your teeth.

He slides open a drawer and takes out two small bottles before turning on the water. He pops the top of one bottle, using the contents to wash both toys, then steps back behind you with the second bottle in and the plug in his hands. A warm laugh leaves your lips, “Always so prepared, Mister Miller.”

“With a pretty little thing like you in my life, I better be.” He clicks the top of the lube open as he continues, “Ready? I’ll go slow.”

“Mm-hm, I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” you coo, your body thrumming with the anticipation of his touch.

“I know you will. No safeword right now, okay? Just say stop, and I will.” He spreads the lube around your tight ring of muscle with his thumb. Every muscle in your body goes slack under his attention and you sigh as your lashes flutter against your cheeks. “Good girl, just relax for me.”

After a few minutes of teasing you with the pad of his thumb he switches to the plug. The cold metal makes you jump. He reassures you by squeezing your hip as he murmurs, “You’re ok, baby.”

He swirls it gently at first, slowly applying more and more pressure before it slips in on its own and you whimper at the feeling. “Does that feel okay, sweet girl?”

“Mmm, yes,” you smile at his reflection in front of you. The amber glow of the LED lighting behind the mirror accentuates the honey flecks in his eyes. Everything about the way he’s looking at you feels overwhelming. It’s like when you first step foot into a hot tub on a cold winter's night. The sting of the swirling water is almost too hot as you sink further in. For a second you consider getting out, but then every single cell in your body adjusts and you can’t imagine not being wrapped in that heat.

“Now this one,” he says, holding up the black u-shaped vibrator. He adds a bit of lube and then guides your hips further back with one hand before kneeling. Your pussy clenches against nothing as you glance over your shoulder seeing him on his knees behind you. He practically whimpers, “God, Freckles, this pussy. She’s so gorgeous.”

A shy smile turns your lips upward. Joel starts to work the toy inside of you and you gasp out a moan. He moves the bulbous head of the toy back and forth until it slips in on its own accord, just like the plug did. Your breathing quickens at the pressure on your g-spot and clit; the toy isn’t even on yet and it already feels so good. Joel’s lips sponge against the globes of your ass, then your hip as he stands. “Are you ok, sweet girl?”

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you respond, your breath catching in your throat as you stand.

“Good. Now put your clothes back on and get to work.”

Before you can bend to pick up your discarded clothing, he pulls you into his arms and brings his lips to yours. The kiss is so soft that it steals your breath, and you almost blurt your feelings for him right then and there. He keeps one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while the other snakes up your body until his large palm cups the side of your face. This kiss, compared to the one from earlier, is different in every way. Where that one was rough and passionate, this one is gentle and almost lazy; a content moan rumbles from his chest. Before pulling away, his warm tongue swipes sweetly across yours.

“See you later, honey,” he whispers, then kisses your forehead and walks away.

Honey, he called me honey. Everything about the last few seconds feels so goddamn domestic, and your potential life five years from now flashes through your mind.

You're standing in this bathroom, getting ready to head to the law firm you work at. Joel, no longer just your dom but also now your new husband, puts a fresh latte on the counter for you, then helps you with the clasp of your necklace before kissing that sensitive spot behind your ear. ‘See you later, honey’.

The rev of Joel’s Jag pulling out of the garage snaps you out of your daydream. You get dressed and walk back downstairs while opening the Maid Discreetly app. To your surprise, cleaning Joel’s office isn’t the first task. Instead, you’ve been asked to wipe down the kitchen, then vacuum the main floor, stairs and upstairs rooms, and finish off by dusting his bedroom. All of it seems very doable in the next four hours, and just when you think you’ll probably be done early and have time to properly get ready for your night out, Mister Miller reminds you that he has the remote to a very distracting detonator.

The first few times the vibrator comes on it’s subtle, just a light buzzing against your clit. It’s enjoyable, almost like a tickling massage, but after almost an hour and half of being gently teased at random you can feel your frustrations start to reach a boiling point.

You: Mister Miller, you’re torturing me Joel: Oh, sweet girl. We’ve only just begun. You: *pouts* Joel: That’s not going to get you what you want. Be a good girl and get back to work. I have a meeting.

You check off the kitchen and main floor tasks and then move to the stairs. You decide to start at the top, sitting on the stair below it and scoot down to save your back. You’re also hoping that the pressure on the toy will make it strong enough that you can finally come. Joel turns the vibrator on again and you whine out in frustration when your plan fails. The slight hum against your clit stops and you mutter something about Joel being a sadistic bastard under your breath and continue your backwards ride down the stairs. As you reach the halfway point the vibrator comes to life at an intensity so strong that you drop the hose of the vacuum and dig your nails into the plush carpet of the stair tread.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, squeezeing your legs together as he brings you right to the edge. Your orgasm builds quickly, and just as it’s about to take you, the vibrations stop.

Joel: You better not have come You: Please, Mister Miller. I was so close Joel: Not yet, babygirl

Joel continues this throughout the afternoon. Every ten minutes or so, the black u-shaped torture device inside of you comes to life; always at different intensities and for varying times.

Torture device might be a bit strong, the discarded box of feelings says from the back of your mind. We both know you’re enjoying it. You don’t know when she decided to come back, but at least she’s keeping you honest.

It’s been about three hours by the time you get to your last task of the day. The vibrator buzzes gently as you grab a duster and head into Joel's bedroom. You bite back a smile seeing his bed, the white fluffy sheets neatly tucked in. You can’t help but run your fingers across the soft duvet, remembering how it felt against your skin, remembering how he felt above, behind, below and beside your naked body.

Joel: You doing ok? Do you need to use your safeword? You: I’m okay, Mister Miller. I REALLY need to come, but this is the best day I’ve ever had at work.

When 3:30pm hits, you’ve finished everything in the app, and are so wound up from being teased that you’re fighting from taking the vibrator out and making yourself come. Everytime the vibrator comes on, you break out in goosebumps, the hair on your body standing on end, but when he turns it off, your cheeks flush in frustration and a wave of heat rolls through you. You know Joel will take care of you when he gets home and sees how badly you need it. He talks a big game, but you see the way he folds when you beg.

Joel: I’ll be home in about 40 minutes, Tommy won’t shut up about concrete. You: I need to come so badly, Mister Miller. I’m throbbing, please! Joel: Soon. Just breathe, sweet girl. You can do this.

You need to distract yourself, and you know Joel’s office usually gets pretty dusty, so even though it’s not on your list, you grab your cleaning supplies and slowly open the door. It’s as it usually is: small piles of papers on the desk and a few things out of place on the book shelf. You put the books back and dust the shelves, then run the duster over the blinds before cleaning the window.

Joel: Goddamn, he’s still going on about fucking concrete. How’s my baby doin? You: Horny, I’m trying to distract myself

The vibrator comes to life at the lowest setting. Once again, it’s not enough to make you come, just enough to tease and taunt. You could cry at the frustration of it.

You: That’s not helping, Mister Miller Joel: What’s not? You: Hilarious. Please? Joel: Nope. I love watching you come, hearing the whiny little gasps you make, so not until later

You move towards the desk. Just as you reach to tidy the stack of papers, the vibrations against your clit hit at an intensity you haven’t felt yet today. You fall forward, gasping for breath, as the papers scatter to the floor. You’re about to fall into the pleasure, feel those waves of nirvana that you so desperately need when the vibrator turns off and you’re left with nothing. You bite back an agitated yell.

Joel: See you in less than half an hour, sweet girl. You better not have come. You: I didn’t. I promise.

You’ve never read anything on Joel’s desk before, but you notice a familiar emblem on the first piece of paper you pick up. It’s a short, handwritten note, and as your eyes scan the few sentences, your heart leaps into your throat as your stomach simultaneously falls to the floor. You read through it once and then twice, trying to make sense of the information in front of you. After blinking hard a few times, you read it again.

You feel like you’re being ripped in two.

Joel, Thank you for your generous (and anonymous) donation to the law library. I’ll be sure to find her application and review it myself. See you at the club's anniversary party in a few weeks.

You flip the note over and back again, reading it through one last time. It’s not signed by anyone, just black ink on eggshell white, the University of Austin letterhead at the top. The letter and the room start to spin. You stumble towards his desk chair and breathe through the wave of nausea that hits you; your mind reels at what you’ve just learned. Anger, disbelief and sadness all push against your prefrontal cortex, fighting to be the winning emotion. You want it to be anger – anger is so much easier to deal with. Yelling and telling Joel to fuck off would make you feel so much better, but overwhelming sadness and disappointment ultimately become the victors.

He doesn’t believe in me.

The realization feels like knives along your skin. Everything he said about how you could do it, or that you’d get in…that was all bullshit. He paid for you to get in, and then – and this is the part that hurts the most – he made you believe that you did it all on your own. Your lungs feel like they’re filled with glass as you force yourself to take slow, controlled breaths.

He doesn’t believe in me.

Tears prickle behind your eyes but you force them back. You will not cry, not when you’ve been through this before and came out stronger. Your parents didn’t believe in you, and you proved them wrong, graduating early and making it on your own in Texas for the last four years.

I can prove Joel wrong, too.

You shut your eyes tight. You don’t need him; you don’t need anyone. But if that’s true, why does his sexy smirk flash behind your eyelids? The glass moves from your lungs to your veins; everything hurts, and you scold yourself for letting him get this intertwined in you.

Never again, you tell yourself. Stick to your plan. Law school. Get in with a good firm, pass the bar and become partner; then worry about a love life.

You walk to his bedroom, removing the toys and cleaning them off before changing into the black leggings and beige crew neck sweater you brought. You gather your hair into a claw clip and head downstairs. With your bag by the door and the letter still clutched in your hand you lean back against the kitchen island and wait for Joel.

He doesn’t believe in me.

Joel

The drive home feels like it takes forever; granted, Tommy talking about fucking concrete for almost an hour felt longer. At dinner tonight, he’s going to explain from the beginning. He prepares himself for the worst, for your anger or hurt. He won’t be able to live with himself if he’s hurt you, but anger he can deal with. He knows it’s selfish, but you yelling at him over this would make him feel better.

Finally, he turns into his neighborhood. The sight of your slightly rusty SUV parked on the street spreads a familiar warmth from his heart to his toes. Mine, he thinks to himself as he pulls into his garage. He knows you’re going to be so tightly wound from all the teasing you endured today, and he plans to very slowly unwind you before you go for dinner. The way you fall apart for him is so beautiful, and after almost four hours of being brought to the edge over and over again, he can’t wait to have your writhing and shaking with a simple flick of his tongue against your clit. But first, he’s going to kiss every inch of your skin while occasionally clicking the vibrator on at its lowest setting. He almost trips over your bag as he comes into the house, and when his eyes meet yours, he knows something is wrong.

“Baby?” His voice cracks in concern at the look on your face. He mentally runs through the rolodex of facial expressions he’s seen from you, and he hates that he can’t place this one; it’s not anger or sadness, and it most definitely is not excitement or curiosity. Your soft lips are turned down in the corners, arms crossed and eyes soft. “What’s wrong?”

Your arms uncross and you hold out the letter he should have shredded weeks ago.

His stomach does a free fall. Disappointment. The look on your face is disappointment, and that is so much worse than anger or sadness.

Fuck.

You

Joel walks towards you with slow, measured steps while carding a nervous hand through his curls. You force yourself to continue breathing, fighting against the tears that threaten to appear. He takes the letter from you and rips it in half; you drop your eyes, watching as the two halves of paper flutter to the ground and then slide away from each other along the marble. You shake your head at the symbolism of it, hugging your arms tightly against your body again.

“I thought you believed in me,” you say, trying not to sound as gutted as you feel.

“I do, sweet girl,” he says, stepping so close that his black leather dress shoes line up with your socked feet. You look up as he continues, “I swear I do. You - you got in on your own. Please, just let me explain.”

His eyes line with tears and moments that you overlooked over the last few weeks playback like a movie. The first day in this kitchen he said he knew the dean of admissions. The flash of anger when you went to the Shibari night and his response of “all of them?” when you said you didn’t get in. The way he insisted you open the letters before the anniversary party. He knew, he fucking knew all along that at least one university would accept you. Dread settles in your stomach, turning the shards of glass under your skin to icicles. Berkeley.

“Did you pay off Berkeley, too?”

“I didn’t pay anyone off.” He’s calm but firm in his response, which just seems to piss you off more.

You roll your eyes, gesturing to the ripped paper on the floor and scoff. “Did you pay off Berkeley, Joel?”

The two of you stare at each other for a few heartbeats, and you don’t back down as more tears gather along his bottom lash line. He shakes his head in defeat, burying his hands in his pockets and breathing slowly a few times before whispering, “No.”

“Why would you do this to me? This could have ruined my entire career.” You try to keep your voice calm, but how dare he stand in front of you holding back tears.

“I’m sorry, sweet girl. I wasn’t - I just…I’m sorry,” he flounders.

“Why, Joel?” Your eyes dance along his face. You aren’t sure what justification you're looking for or hoping for. The dream of staying here died the moment you picked up that note, but you can’t go to California without knowing why he did it.

He opens his mouth, shaking his head slightly and then closes his mouth. He takes a deep breath through his nose, blinking away the tears. “Because I don’t want to lose you, Freckles. I should have told you, I was going to tell you tonight. That donation isn’t the reason you got in…you did that on your own. I just…well, I just sped up the process. And I’m so sorry you found out like this.”

You scoff again. “I thought my consent was the most important thing to you.”

His eyes widened in shock. “It is, sweet girl.”

“I didn’t ask you to meddle in my life, Joel. And I certainly didn’t ask you to speed along the process. What happens if I become a Supreme Court judge and someone finds out that you bribed a university to get me?” He goes to speak, but you raise a hand to stop him and continue. “And don’t tell me that you didn’t bribe anyone, because that’s exactly how this looks and you know it. You wouldn’t be looking at me like a guilty puppy if you thought what you did was right.”

His hands come to cup your face. The warm coffee eyes that usually dance rhythmically around your face are replaced by shifting dark glass beads laced with fear and loss. The warmth you normally feel when he touches you is gone. His eyes flick to your lips and then back to your eyes before he speaks.

“Freckles, I lov-”

Your still raised hand covers his mouth, clamping tightly to his face to stop him.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, swallowing the lump in your throat and keeping your palm pressed to his soft lips. Your heart pounds behind your ribs in response to what he was about to confess. If he tells you what you so desperately wanted to hear just hours ago, you know you’ll crumble. You’ll let him take you up to his bedroom and apologize in a way that only he can. You’ll spend the night planning how you can do long distance while you’re in California. You’ll let him interfere with the plan…again.

“Don’t say that to me right now, I can’t hear that.”

He nods into your hand slowly, his eyes soften, and you try to memorize every bit of amber in his otherwise black brown eyes. This will be the last time he looks at you like this, and the realization seems to suck the air out of the room. You wish you could bottle up how it makes you feel when he looks at you like that; the way it comforts you and shuts off the narrated to do list in your mind that’s always growing in your mind.

“Joel, if…if you feel that way, then you’ll let me go,” you tell him, voice just above a whisper. He lets out a shaky breath through his nose, the heat of it warming your hand. One of his hands leaves your face to wrap around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull your hand away or step back out of your grip. Instead, he runs his thumb in small circles along the soft, smooth skin there, and you swear you can feel the whorls of his thumb tattooing themself on you, trying desperately to stay with you forever.

“You’ll understand why I have to go to Berkeley now,” you continue. “I have been working so hard for this. And for years, I have been doing it all on my own. I’m so close, Joel…so close to finishing what I started when I was, like, seven years old. So, please, I’m begging you…please do not finish that sentence.”

You drop your hand from his mouth, his grip going weak as he lets you slip out of his grasp. He looks small, almost deflated in front of you as he stumbles back a few steps. The silence between the two of you feels heavy.

It’s over. Whatever this was, or could be, is over, and you both know it.

When he finally speaks, it’s a sad whisper. “What about when you’re done?”

“A lot can change in three years, Joel,” you respond, mostly to extinguish the flicker of hope in your chest. It’s better for you to push him away now than to hope that he’ll be there when you graduate. No one has ever been there for you, and this is proving to be no different. You step around him and head to the front door, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek as the tears threaten to reappear while you get your shoes on.

“Freckles, wait.”

You close your eyes, facing the door with your hand on the matte black knob. His dress shoes click on the shiny marble before his large hand comes to rest on the door beside your head. This is the exact position you were in after accidentally catching him in his office. You keep your eyes glued to the door and after a sniffle, a quiet clearing of his throat and a whispered, heartbreaking ‘fuck’, he continues.

“I really am sorry,” he says, his voice hoarse. “This is not how I wanted this to go, but you know what you need and I respect your choice. These last few weeks have been so much more than I could have imagined, more than I deserve. You have brought me back, sweet girl. I know you probably don’t believe a word of what I’ve said tonight, and that’s ok, but with you, I felt that pull that I’ve been waiting for. I felt it the minute your cleaning caddy fell to the ground and I locked eyes with you. If you were anyone else, I would have let you run out of here and then had you fired. I chased you and I’ve been chasing you ever since, even though I know you are meant for more and that this could only ever be temporary for you. This was always going to be the end for me and a well-deserved, hard-earned beginning for you.”

He takes a shaky breath in and you open your eyes, but you don’t look back at him. “Regardless of all that, I meant what I said in my office that day. Starting this with you would be it for me. A lot can change for you in three years, and I want you to experience everything in California. But for me, it’s you. It will always be you.”

Your chest feels like it’s going to cave and your knees threaten to buckle. “I have to go, Joel,” you grit out, forcing your voice past the boulder that’s formed in your throat.

“I know, and I’m so proud of you, sweet girl,” he whispers, dropping his hand and stepping back. The heat of his broad body and leather-and-ash scent disappear from behind you, and it feels like you’ve been plunged into freezing, uncharted waters.

You get in your car and drive, unsure of where your final destination will be. After driving around Austin for a while, you find yourself parking outside of the Maid Discreetly office. You take a minute, deciding what you are and aren’t going to tell your best friend before heading in. Jamie’s office is impeccable as always, not a single smudge on the glass desk as she types on her laptop, looking effortlessly perfect.

“Hey, babe!” she says with a smile as you cross the threshold.

“How’s your dad doing with the California office?” you say, trying to act casual.

“Oh my god!” she practically shrieks as she jumps up from her chair. “Did you get into Berkeley?”

“That depends,” you say, raising one shoulder. “Does he have a job for me there?”

“Holy shit!” She runs around the desk and wraps you in her arms. How she can move like that in stilettos is beyond you.

“Careful, you’re gonna break an ankle,” you deadpan. The weight of what just happened with Joel almost dissipates. Jamie pulls back to look at you, her eyes scan your face and you feel exposed.

“Why aren’t you more excited? What’s wrong?”

Shit.

A sob leaves your throat and you collapse into Jamie’s open arms. She pulls you into her office with one arm and closes her door with the other, then leads you to the couch along the far wall. As soon as she gets you seated, you manage to explain everything between sobs and very unattractive nose blowing.

This is supposed to be one of those exciting moments of your life. You did it: you got into the school you always dreamed of and you're moving to California; a place you always felt most at ease in. Yet, it’s all clouded over by having your heart wholly shattered by a man that you actually thought was going to be the love of your life. Someone who showed you he cared, showed you that he’d always be there.

But it was all a lie.

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ellecdc · 9 months ago

Note

hello love! I just, like, devoured all your writings today and idk if your requests are open, but I really like seer!reader and I was wondering if I could request one with poly!marauders where reader is a slytherin and she has a vision of befriending them or being in a relationship with them?

I’d imagined she thinks it’s a silly vision at first but the more she sees the boys (as she’s friends with Regulus so is bound to run into them with him), the visions occur more and more until she finally has an official interaction with them and officially meets them.

Idk if that’s too complicated/confusing, if so, you don’t have to write it obviously 😅.

I love Seer reader!!! thanks for your request lovie <3

please note: my requests are currently closed as I finish exams and work through the requests that I currently have.

poly!marauders x Seer Slytherin fem!reader who Sees a relationship with them

“Tell me again why I have to sit at the Gryffindor table for lunch?” You protested as Regulus all but dragged you to the Great Hall and Barty skipped merrily-on ahead.

“Because I have to sit at the Gryffindor table for lunch.” He answered gruffly, strengthening his hold on your arm as you faltered in your steps.

“I don’t know, babes; have you ever considered just killing him? You wouldn’t have to reconnect with your estranged brother if he was dead.” Barty offered nonchalantly.

“For the last time, Barty, I am not killing my brother.”

“A decision we’re all suffering for, apparently.” You muttered petulantly as you entered the Great Hall; chatter and the sounds of cutlery and tableware permeating your senses.

“Don’t worry, Treasure. The faster we eat the faster we can get away.” Barty offered in consolation.

“I am not doing the heimlich on you again, Barty.” You groaned as you followed Regulus towards the wrong side of the Great Hall.

“Come on, they’re not that bad.” Regulus tried.

You and Barty both stopped to give him unimpressed glares.

“Lupin’s not that bad.” He corrected.

“Yeah, and then he ruins that by the company he keeps.” You grumble as you plopped yourself down unceremoniously at the Red and Gold table across from your three lunch dates for the day.

Listen, you were all for being a good friend, a supportive friend; you would die for Regulus Black.

You’re not sure that support extended to willingly eating lunch with Gryffindor’s.

But Regulus was determined to mend his relationship with his brother before Sirius graduated, Barty went just about anywhere Regulus went, and apparently you were single-handedly responsible for Regulus’ general sanity when it came to his brother and Barty.

“Hello Reggie!” Sirius called quickly.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What am I supposed to call you?” His brother bit back slightly less brightly.

“I call him sugar tits but I don’t think that’s universal.” Barty offered as he started loading up his plate.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Junior.” James offered cautiously.

“I bet it is, Potter.”

Sirius sighed as if he’d been dealing with the likes of toddlers all morning and not 37 seconds of Barty Crouch Junior. “The polite thing to say would be ‘it’s nice to see you too, James’.”

Barty froze with his fork half way to his mouth as he furrowed his brows at Sirius. “No it wouldn’t; it’s not polite to lie, Black.”

“I brought another friend you can try to converse with.” Regulus spat hastily.

“Pretend I’m not here; that’s what I’m doing.” You sighed as you resigned yourself to your fate.

“Well, this is off to a good start.” Remus said with a smirk as he flipped a page in his book.

You did suppose Lupin was the least…abrasive of him and his boyfriends. You’d had a chance to get to know him last year during prefect rounds; and while you didn’t appreciate how much he let his fellow Marauders get away with, he was relatively nice. In fact, if he had been in any house other than Gryffindor, you may have given him a chance.

His boyfriend’s, though?

You’d rather take your chances with the Giant Squid than spend your lunch hour with them.

Were they attractive? Sure. You may be contemptuous, but you weren’t blind.

But they always seemed to be on; there was never a moment of silence with those two nearby, and you often found yourself bracing for impact whenever they were around.

“Looking as smashing as ever, L/N.” James said as he shot you a wink.

Case in point.

“If I threw a stick, you’d leave right?” You sneered and turned towards your sandwich.

“Nice!” Barty cheered at the same time as Remus muttered “easy kitten; play nice.”

You started to feel the familiar sensation of your consciousness being pulled elsewhere. It felt as though you were being submerged under cold water, and the neurons firing in your brain were being gently lifted and ushered towards a new reality.

“What’s wrong dollface?” Sirius asked you earnestly.

You sucked in a shaky breath as you tried to hide the trembling in your hands. “I just don’t feel very good.” You whispered, not trusting your voice to get through a sentence without sobbing.

“Oh, my poor girl. Come here sweets.” He repositioned himself from laying on his stomach to sitting cross legged and opening his arms in invitation.

You quickly accepted his offer and curled up in his lap as he wrapped protective arms around you and began to rock you back and forth.

“You’re okay, dolly. You’re just fine.” He murmured with his lips pressed to your hair line. “D’ya wanna stay here with me and the boys tonight?”

You let out a pathetically embarrassing keening sound as you nodded quickly.

“Okay baby; consider it done.”

You sucked in a horrified breath as your consciousness returned and you were once again assaulted by the noises of the Great Hall.

Regulus quickly caught the glass of pumpkin juice you’d just nearly toppled and was holding your wrist tightly in his hand.

You thanked the deities for his seeker reflexes and that he seemed to already know what had happened; this was a relatively routine practice between the two of you this far along in your friendship.

“You’re okay.” He offered without even sparing you a glance as he took a napkin with his free hand to clean up what little you’d spilled.

He kept your wrist in his grip; tracking your pulse as he waited for your heart rate to slow down.

“Was it a good one!?” Barty asked excitedly, alerting you to the fact that it wasn’t just you and Regulus sitting here.

You looked up horrified to see Remus, James, and Sirius all looking at you with various levels of concerns.

“Was what a good one?” Sirius asked bemusedly.

Barty scoffed derisively. “She’s a Seer, Black. Fuck, you’re thick.”

“Barty.” Regulus scolded as he turned to offer you his full attention.

“Are you really?” James asked at the same time as Regulus asked “what did you See?”

“I have to go.” You muttered breathlessly as you grabbed your things and headed towards the exit.

“No fair! Why does she get to leave and I don’t!?” You heard Barty whine as you pushed through the doors to the courtyard.

You were going insane, surely. This was just a bout of madness. You needed psychological help, like one of those muggle mind healers. You could not seriously be having Sights of you dating the Marauders.

“Hey L/N!”

“Fucking hells!” You shrieked as you spun to see Remus and James approaching you, the latter having been the one to call your name.

James still had his ever present smile on his face whilst Remus approached you with slightly more caution.

“Not happy to see us?” Remus asked with a soft smirk across his face.

“I…well,”

Apparently your bumbling was particularly telling to your current mental state, if their furrowed brows and nervous glances to each other were anything to go by.

“No funny quip for us today? You’re not going to tell me that I look like something you could draw with your left hand?” James taunted.

“Go fuck yourself, Potter.” You said with half the amount of derision you’d intended.

“Why? You wanna watch him?” Remus asked.

Okay, everything you ever said about Remus being not as bad as his boyfriends?

Lies.

“For Salazar’s sake, L/N; you sure know how to pick ‘em, huh?” Avery sneered from behind you.

“Speak when you’re spoken to, fuck face.” You barked back.

Avery only scoffed in response.

“Hanging out with Baby Black and his crazy pet that follows him around wasn’t enough; you had to sully yourself with the likes of Gryffindor’s?” Mulciber continued for him.

“You know, I’d be mad too if I looked like someone who has fallen for every MLM scam known to mankind.” James spat; his face taking on a severity you’d never seen from the notoriously sunny-dispositioned boy.

You wondered what else you hadn’t seen from him.

You made a rather hasty and embarrassing retreat after that gave you some…inappropriate thoughts.

You’d been plagued with more Sights since then, having been avoiding them after more images of them fussing and fawning over you (and - perhaps more horrifyingly - you over them), and then out-and-out hiding from them after a particularly… steamy Sight you had.

“You cannot hide in the Slytherin common room forever, Treasure.” Barty sighed as he plopped down beside you on the couch and rested his head on your shoulder.

“Why not?”

“Because Regulus gave them the password to the common room.”

“He what!?” You shrieked as the door opened and in spilled three Gryffindors and one Slytherin.

“There you are, angel!” James cheered as he quickly made his way towards you.

Already with the pet names!?

“Did you really think you could hide from us, dollface?” Sirius winked as he and James took the settee across from you (causing a few younger year Slytherin’s to quickly vacate the area).

“Regulus, how could you?” You seethed at your now ex-friend.

“I’m tired of Barty bailing on me to hide out here with you. Also, I’m not a house elf and will no longer be bringing you your meals.”

You pouted at him before a surprised yelp left your lips as you were lifted up from your seat.

Remus took your place on the sofa and placed you in the space between his thighs.

“Lupin! What are you doing!?”

“Making your dreams come true, gorgeous.” Sirius answered for you.

“They’re not dreams, you absolute mumpsimus. They’re visions of the future.” Barty sneered.

“Even better then.” James continued as he now pulled a scowling Sirius into his side. “We’re starting our future together.”

“You told them!?” You asked Regulus disbelievingly.

“Well you weren’t going to.”

“That was the point!”

“Easy there, dove.” Remus whispered into your ear, causing a shiver to rack through you as your body traitorously melted further into Remus’ embrace.

The only way out of this was clearly going to be the death of you (via Remus’ smoothness, James’ loveliness, and Sirius’ boldness), their murders (at your hands), or stupidly drunk in love.

You weren’t sure which option was worse.

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bbydoll18xx · 7 months ago

Text

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart

Paige Bueckers x reader

KK tries to set you up on live, and things between you and Paige go south.

Word Count: 1.7k

Themes: angst, maybe some fluff?

This is heavily inspired by my love life, so yes, please feel free to feel bad for me thanks xoxo

“And oh, my god, he was so fucking stupid,” you exclaim exasperatedly, your longwinded rant having no ending in sight. “Like you’re literally in college and you can’t even hold a basic conversation? And don’t even get me started on his fucking mustache,” you add, gagging dramatically for good measure.

Hands were flying in the air as you spoke, and the girls of UCONN’s women’s basketball team listened amusedly as you complained about your latest failure of a date. You had promised yourself you’d get back out into the dating world after your two year relationship with your high school sweetheart had ended, but that was nearly three years ago. And now that you had gone through every stage of grief and were now (mostly) mentally stable again, you had begun dating to find ‘the one.’

However ‘the one’ seemed to be hiding among the frat boys and useless idiots you had been spending your friday and saturday nights with for the last six months. And you were quickly growing tired of their bullshit.

“And then,” you dragged out the word theatrically, leaning forward to the group of girls listening, “he told me he wanted to do a line of cocaine off my ass! Like who even says that?”

The girls erupt in a fit of giggles and gasps, disturbed by your most recent date.

You shake your head in mild embarrassment and place your head in your hands. “I can’t do this anymore,” you sigh, trying to avoid Paige’s stare.

She was always staring, as if she could tell what you were thinking. And to be honest, it freaked you out because if she actually knew what you were thinking, you’d be in some deep shit.

You had feelings for Paige from the first day you had met her, and the battle was certainly an uphill one at that. A little voice in your head whispered mockingly that the reason you had been going on all these dates was to distract yourself from the harsh reality that Paige was just a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

And it really fucking stung.

KK cuts through the silence, placing a soothing hand on your back. “I know what to do,” she says with a knowing smile. You meet her smirk with a confused look, wondering what the younger girl had in mind. “Let’s go on live and find you a boo!” she exclaims, clapping her hands together.

The other girls erupt in laughter at the idea, nodding their heads in agreement. The only one who is uncharacteristically quiet is Paige, who has a funny look on her face. Her nose scrunches slightly, and because you had spent years memorizing every part of Paige, including her moods and facial expressions, you would almost say she looked pissed.

Glancing back over to KK, you let out another long sigh, throwing your hands in the air defeatedly. “Sure, why the hell not?”

She whoops excitedly, grabbing her phone and propping it up on the table in front of where the two of you were sitting. She clicks on the live, and it was not long before hundreds of people were flooding in with comments.

“Hey, y’all!” KK greets the fans with a small wave and a huge grin. You try to hold back a grin of your own, but her excitement was infectious, and you felt grateful that your friends cared about fixing your sham of a love life.

“We’ve got a special guest tonight,” KK explains, and you wave shyly at the camera. You typically did not love all the attention, and you tended to stay in the background when the other girls would go live.

“Okay, so boom, we are looking for a date for my girl over here,” KK begins, explaining the situation to the people on the live. “Serious inquiries only!” She adds, wagging a finger towards the camera. “She is precious, and some of y’all are straight up freaks.”

You giggle at her words, trying to read the comments. Many of them we’re trying to gauge your sexuality, and upon reading another ‘is she gay’ comment, you decide to clarify.

“I’m bisexual,” you murmur shyly. It had been nearly 6 years since you had realized you like girls, yet you still struggled with enunciating the fact.

“Oh girl, they love you,” KK sings, patting herself on the back for her idea. “How about if y’all have some talent, join the live and woo my girl.”

Paige has since moved from her chair opposite you to sit next to you on the couch. Her leg is pressed up against yours, the warmth of her body radiating onto yours, and you bite your lip.

“Yeah, yeah Paige is here. This ain’t about blondie today,” KK scolds the fans. “Now I want to see some good talent.”

You turn your head to look at Paige, and she rolls her eyes at KK. “KK, don’t be mean to them,” she laughs, waving to the live.

In your head you’re thinking that you honestly can’t even blame the fans. Paige was hot. You wanted to see her too.

KK lets in the first girl, who upon seeing Paige, shrieks and throws her phone onto the carpet of her bedroom. You laugh, and KK lets out a huff of annoyance, deleting her immediately and moves on to find another person.

“This one seems promising,” she mutters, and you play with a piece of hair nervously. Being in front of the camera felt ridiculous, and you wonder how you got yourself into this situation. You are quickly pulled out of your thoughts by another young girl, desperately trying to serenade you and the other girls with a song. You try your best to avoid cringing, but the performance left you with bad secondhand embarrassment.

A whole twenty minutes pass before someone promising pops up on the screen. A girl about your age with long dark hair and piercing green eyes is waving flirtatiously at the screen, causing you to sit up a little straighter. Next to you, Paige stiffens, and your eyes flit to her on KK’s phone, jaw clenched in a way that has your stomach rolling. You look down and notice her hand was closed in a fist, the other picking at a piece of lint on the couch.

You avert your eyes back to the girl who was still smiling widely, and you make casual smalltalk with her, feeling warm from the attention of a pretty girl.

Comments are flooding in, and while you’re glad to see that many of them are about what a cute couple you and the mystery girl would make, you also notice an influx in comments regarding how mad Paige looked.

Before you could look over to check on her, she was flying off the couch and stomping out of the room. You hear her door close loudly, and you meet KK’s eye with a confused look. Paige’s departure has the fans going wild, and you whisper to the younger girl that she should end the live.

“Okay, y’all, we gotta go. Feel free to DM her, though,” KK tells the dark-haired girl with a devilish grin, and she signs off quickly.

“What the fuck was all that about?” you ask no one in particular, eliciting shrugs from Aubrey, Ice, and Jana.

“She’s been moody all day,” Aubrey says casually, and you pout, thinking about your best friend who was clearly unhappy about something.

“I’ll go check on her,” you mutter, heading towards the closed door of Paige’s bedroom. Standing in front of it, you take a deep breath before knocking.

“Come in,” you hear her mutter, and you enter the dark room, the only light shining from the tv and reflecting off the glassiness of Paige’s eyes.

You sit on her bed next to her, placing a comforting hand on her thigh. “What’s wrong?” you ask gently, not wanting to spook her. She rarely opened up about the way she was feeling, and you did not want to rush her into admitting anything if she wasn’t ready.

She shrugs, quickly wiping at her eyes, and your heart nearly crumbles at the sight. You rub soothing circles onto her leg and reach up to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. The intimacy of it all is almost overwhelming, and you bite your bottom lip to keep in the feelings bubbling inside of you, threatening to expose everything.

“Just tired,” Paige mumbles, and you peek at her face, studying the beauty of her features.

Your phone lights up in your hand, alerting you to a DM you had just received from the girl from the live, and you attempt to hold back a wide smile at her boldness. Paige looks down at your screen as you text the girl, Scarlett, back with a giddy expression.

“I’m going to go to bed,” she says coldly, already moving to get under the covers.

“Want me to stay?” You ask hopefully, trying to sound casual. Sleepovers between the two of you had become a cherished ritual, and you needed the simple proximity to make you feel whole again.

“Nah,” she replies flatly, eyes closed and back turned in harsh finality.

“O-oh, okay. Well, goodnight,” you stutter, temporarily stunned at her poignancy, and you flee her room with your head hung low in rejection.

“Is she okay?” KK asks. You don’t even know how to answer that.

“I have no clue what her deal is,” you mumble. “She’s never not wanted me around, so I think I’m just going to go. I’ve got a girl to get to know,” you add, trying to make yourself feel better.

“We’ll let you know if anything happens,” Ice responds kindly, and you nod gratefully in her direction before you take your leave.

You ignore the anxiety as you walk back home, instead focusing on the flirty messages Scarlett was sending to you. ‘This is what I need,’ you think. Paige was never going to be yours, and now you finally had a real chance at getting over her.

With your head held high, you vowed that your feelings for Paige Bueckers would disappear. But would they really? Time could only tell.

Part 2

Part 3

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you would be interested in a second part to this!!

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers x you #uconn wbb

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lives-in-midgard · 5 months ago

Text

You Are In Love

Pairing: Evan Buckley x reader

Summary: When you're out with your friends you meet a handsome firefighter. After a while you go on a date and decide to keep your relationship a secret until something happens.

Word Count: 1200

A/N: Hey. This is part of the Buddie-August challenge. This also includes some characters from the Rookie. I hope you like it!

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Buddie-August hosted by me and @buckys-wintersoldier

Prompt: Kisses

911 Masterlist | Main Masterlist

After a long shift at work one of your colleagues had the idea to go to a bar. You don’t often go to bars with all of them, but today you all finally had time. A lot has changed for you since you started working as a police officer at the Mid-Wilshire Station. You found a lot of friends there and you love your job.

“I’m gonna get a drink, would any of you like one too?” You asked the others.

“Could you get me another one of these.” Lucy said, pointing at her drink and you nodded.

“What about you Tim?”

“I’m good, thanks.” He said, smiling at you. When the others said they didn’t need anything, you made your way over to the bar. While you were waiting in line for drinks, a cute guy stood next to you and waited as well. Somehow he looked familiar to you, but you weren’t sure where you had seen him before. He smiled at you and then you suddenly remembered him. You could never forget that smile.

“You’re firefighter Buckley, right?” You asked and he chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s me. Wait and you are officer L/n.”

“You can call me y/n.” You said with a smile.

“Only if you call me Buck because that’s what everyone calls me.”

“Okay, deal.” You said and he had that sweet smile again. You talked for a few more minutes until your drinks were ready.

“See you around, Buck.”

“See you and be safe.” He said and watched as you walked back to your table. You handed Lucy her drink and sat down next to Tim again.

“Who was this guy?” Tim asked curious.

“Oh, just a friend.” You answered and Tim nodded. You and Tim have been friends and partners for a long time and over time he has become very protective over you. He always knows when something is wrong and is there for you as best as he can.

The next day you kept thinking about your meeting with Buck. He was so sweet and you hope to see him again. You didn’t think you’d see him again soon because just when you had an emergency call and had to call the ambulance, it was the 118 that showed up. You couldn’t really talk to him, but it was great to see each other again.

When you were grocery shopping and walking through the halls someone said your name and when you turned around you saw that it was Buck.

“Hey Buck.” You greeted him with a smile.

“Hey, good to see you.”

“I was wondering if you would like to have a coffee with me sometime?” He suddenly asked.

“Yeah, sure. How about I give you my phone number.” He nodded and pulled out his phone. You tipped in your number and he called you, so you had his number too.

Two days passed until you got a message from Buck. He asked if you were free tomorrow and you agreed to meet after work. At work Tim noticed that you were different, happier and more excited. He didn’t ask you about it, but it made him happy to see you happy.

The coffee date with Buck went very well. You talked about everything that came to your mind. You both really enjoyed it and had a great time. He asked you out on a date and that date turned into another date and suddenly you were in a happy relationship.

You had been dating for about three months now. Usually you were at his house or yours or sometimes you were going out. Favorite things to do together include cooking, watching movies, going to the beach and you enjoying it when he tells you a story from work and then you tell him some stories too. You’re very happy together and try to spend as much time together as possible, even if it can be a bit difficult due to your work shifts. Some people don’t think a relationship between a police officer and a firefighter is a good idea, so you decided to keep the relationship a secret for a while, which wasn’t always easy especially if you would see him on a call.

Today you have been called into a very difficult situation. You called for backup, but things quickly escalated, and you injured your left arm. Luckily, Officer Harper, Officer Nolan and Officer Bradford arrived at the right time to arrest the person. While Harper and Nolan arrested the person, Tim ran over to you and called an ambulance.

“Tim, I’m aright, it’s just a small scratch.”

“Let’s wait and see what the medics say, okay?” Tim said and put some pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. A few minutes later you could already hear the ambulance driving near you. When the doors opened you could see that it was Buck. As soon as he saw you, he ran towards you.

“Babe, are you okay? What happened?” He asked, looking at your arm. When you looked over, you saw that Tim had a confused look on his face.

“I’m okay, it’s just a small scratch.” You said again.

“Let’s go to the truck and I’ll take a look at it.” Buck said, placed his hand on your back and guided you to the truck. Then he removed the cloth from your wound and gently tried to stop the bleeding. You took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, babe.” He looked into your eyes and tried to smile at you. Then he looked back at the wound.

“The cut isn’t too deep, so it’s okay if I just bandage it.” He said and you nodded. Buck gently put the bandage over your wound and then gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, honey.”

“Anytime.” He said, then Buck tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and gently pulled you into a passionate kiss. When you broke the kiss, you reached for his hand and smiled at each other.

“I have to go back to work.” You said after a few seconds, even though you didn’t want to say goodbye.

“Me too.” He said, looking over his shoulder to see his friends looking at you both with smiles.

“I guess they all know now.”

“They definitely do.” You said with chuckle. You noticed how happy they all were and then looked over at Tim who was as happy as they were.

“I think I have to go now. See you later.” Buck said and gave you a quick hug.

“See you.” You said, waving at him as you walked away. As you walked to your car, Tim was still standing next to yours and looked at you with a grin.

“Now I know why you’ve been so happy lately.”

“Yeah, Buck makes me really happy.” You confirmed and opened the car door.

You were glad that Tim and Buck’s colleagues now found out about your relationship, but you definitely want to meet them soon on a better occasion. Buck has told you a lot about them, so you’re very excited to meet them.

Taglist:

@cevansbaby-dove | @buckys-wintersoldier

@beaubbdoll

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rainyreading · 8 months ago

Note

Hey! I love your Theo fics and I was wondering if I could request a Theo x Hufflepuff, granddaughter of Newt Scamander reader? I think it could be cute!

Maybe he notices her one day minding her business, and one of his friends calls her weird for the same reasons Newt was called weird in school? Whatever you like! thank you!

Weird

Theo Nott x Hufflepuff!reader

wc: 950

a/n: Sorry this took so long! Hope it’s ok.

Requests open

Theo was in the library with his friends. He wasn’t doing any work of course because he was distracted talking with his friends. They were talking about the quidditch match that took place yesterday.

Theo quickly glanced around the library and his eyes landed on you. You were sitting there reading minding your own business. Theo thought you were pretty. He admired your beauty. He thought you were so cute and loved how you weren’t bothered by others.

Draco caught sight of Theo looking at you. He decided to speak up. “You know that’s Y/L/N, she’s weird. She talks to animals and what not. I’d stay away from her if I were you,” Draco warned.

“Maybe she’s just misunderstood,” Theo reasoned.

“Nah mate i’d listen to Draco, she’s a freak,” Blaise commented.

“You guys are mean,” Theo responded.

“Trust us, we would never steer you wrong,” Draco threw an arm around Theo.

“Ok ok I get it,” Theo put a stop to their conversation.

“We are just looking out for you,” Draco explained.

“Yeah yeah i know, let’s drop it please.” Theo grumbled.

Theo and his friends continued hanging out in the library for a little while longer. Theo however was busy thinking about you. He couldn’t get you off his mind. You intrigued him.

After Theo’s friends left he decided to go up and talk to you, despite what his friends told him. You were minding your own business, reading your book.

“Mind of I sit here?” Theo asked.

“Um sure go head,” you replied. You were shy and a little nervous but he seemed nice.

“You’re really pretty you know that,” Theo charmed.

You blushed at his words. You didn’t think anyone noticed you.

“What’s your name?” you asked.

“Theo,” he said with a smile.

“I’m Y/N.” You stuck your hand out for him to shake, which he did.

“I’ve seen you around school, I’ve always wanted to say hi,” Theo began.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I was always too nervous, and now I just thought hey, it’s worth a shot.”

“Well I’m glad you did,” you answered.

“Me too.”

“So what are you reading?” Theo asked.

“Oh this? I’m just reading about the care of magical creatures.”

“Interesting!”

“Really? Cause I find it fascinating.”

And maybe it was the way your eyes lit up or the smile on your face but Theo could have sworn he died and gone to heaven. You were simply stunning and so lively. He liked to look at you when there was a spark of joy in you.

“Forgive me if this is too forward, but would you like to have a picnic at the black lake with me tomorrow?” Theo requested.

“I’d love too!”

“Great!”

——————

Tomorrow came fast. Theo couldn’t wait he was so excited to see you again. He planned out the whole thing. He brought a ton of food and he even got you flowers.

When you arrived at the black lake Theo gave you the flowers.

“These are beautiful, thank you!”

The two of you sat down on the picnic blanket, and Theo started to serve the food. What Theo’s friends might think if they saw him here with you was in the back of his mind, but he tried to ignore it and enjoy this time with you.

“Anything for you.”

You smiled at him, feeling really good about going out with Theo. He seemed really nice and you were excited to get to know him.

After the both of you ate you decided to just enjoy each other’s presence and talk.

“So what do you do on days you don’t have class?” Theo asked.

“Well I like to read, sometimes I go on walks around the castle. Then there’s spending time with my cat. I also like to draw. What about you?” You answered.

“That’s interesting! I usually hang out with my friends. I’d love to see your drawings sometime!”

“Really? I’m not that good,” you shrugged.

“I bet you are,” Theo implied.

You smiled at him. “Maybe someday.”

“What do you read about?”

“Mostly animals.”

“You really like animals don’t you.”

“Well my grandfather is Newt Scamander.”

“Really? No way.” Theo was impressed.

“Yep.”

“That makes a lot of sense.”

“Hahaha.”

“Have you ever gone swimming in the black lake?” Theo asked.

“No I haven’t,” you replied.

“Do you want to swim with me?” Theo grinned.

“Are you crazy?!”

“Come on,” Theo said lifting his shirt over his head.

You laughed at him. You were a little shy but you quickly stripped down to your underwear, ripping it off like a bandaid.

Theo did his best to avert his eyes from your body. You were breathtaking and he just couldn’t help it.

“Last one in is a sweaty oaf.” Theo called out.

You squealed as you jumped into the lake. The water was cold and it felt refreshing. You swam over to Theo.

Theo watched as droplets of water fell from your lashes. Theo went and held your waist.

“Is this ok?” Theo asked.

You nodded.

One hand came and brushed your hair out of you face then rested on your cheek.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” You replied.

Theo placed his lips on yours in a heated kiss. His mouth explored yours. Your lips were moving in sync. When the need for air became to strong you pulled away.

“You are a really good kisser,” Theo complemented.

You giggled, “Thank you.”

Theo was quickly falling in love, and he didn’t even know it yet. The last thing on his mind was what his friends would think. He couldn’t care less about their opinion because he found someone he enjoyed spending time with.

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misctf · 2 months ago

Note

Hey there. I was wondering if you could help me. I'm struggling to find a job, for when I finish college in a couple of months. Unfortunately, there's slim pickings for us theater majors out there, and I've had no luck landing anything. Do you think you would know a job that I could get?

You never thought you’d be in this situation. Sure, your friends and family looked upon you skeptically when you said you were getting a degree in theater. Always questioning you about your career plans and what you planned to do with that. But you persisted- spending hours learning about the evolution of theater from different cultures and creating complex scripts. You truly loved it- your passion palpable. But graduation day was approaching.

“I’d like to do something in my field.” You say, while your college’s career counselor looked over your resume on his tablet, “I’ve written a few plays and...”

“I can see that.” His words carried a dismissive tone and his eyes are glued to his tablet, “But there aren’t any opportunities for you based on your specific interests and timeframe.”

“But that’s not fair.” You complain, “I came here because you guarantee 100% of your graduates leave with a job in their chosen field.” You felt frustrated- you paid a lot of money to get this degree with the belief that you’d be employed.

“We do indeed.” He says, continuing to focus on his tablet, “We work closely with our students to get them to where they need to be.”

“So then why...”

“But sometimes it takes time.” He continues, swiping aggressively on his touchscreen, “But with all struggling students, we can match them into a program that has better career prospects.”

“But I don’t...”

“Take for example Exercise Science.” He says, “This year, 100% of their students will be going into a career in their field.”

“How does that have anything to do with...”

“Theater didn’t work out for you, did it?” He says, handing you the tablet, “But I think we can start fresh.”

You look down at the tablet and raise an eyebrow. Was this some kind of joke? It was a schedule for a freshman. Typed in bold letters at the top was “exercise science major” with classes already planned for the fall semester.

“What kind of game are you...?” You look up at him.

“What’s wrong?” The career counselor asks, “I thought this is what you’d want?”

“Well, it’s just that...” You look back down at the tablet, but it’s your hands that catch your attention. Are they bigger? Meatier? You shake your head, “It’s just that...”

“Are you having second thoughts about your major?” He asks.

“Yes... no... I mean, I don’t...” Your shirt is starting to feel a bit tighter around your chest, “It’s just that...”

“It’s not uncommon for new students to have doubts. But we want to ensure that you’re happy with your choice.”

“New students? But I’m...” Your sleeves feel tighter around your bulging biceps and triceps, “Wait... since when...?” You run your hand along the veiny muscles of your thick arms.

“This is why we have these meetings prior to you matriculating.” He continues.

“Ma-matricu...?” That word hurts your brain and your eyes narrow.

“It means before you formally enroll.” He says.

“Ah thanks bro.” You chuckle, “But wait... I’m already a student...” You shake your head again, “Seriously, what the fuck?”

“No need to get vulgar.” He says, “It’ll be okay.”

You start to breath faster and you quickly open the camera app on the tablet. The face looking back at you is definitely not your own. It’s younger, more chiseled, and your eyes are dull. But before you can say anything, a loud tearing sound fills the room. You yelp when your shirt falls in tatters around you, leaving your chiseled physique on full display. You whimper as you run your hands along your cobblestone abs and firm, hairless pecs.

“This isn’t... how, bro?” You look up at the career counselor.

“I said not to worry.”

And suddenly you feel a tingling in your brain. You realize your memories are being altered and changed as the last four years of your life are removed. Time spent in class, writing screenplays, and hanging out with your theater friends become hazy. Your time studying Anton Chekhov and Lynn Nottage vanish from your mind. Even personal details start to shift. You’re no longer a 22 year old college senior about to graduate with a theater degree. No, you’re an 18 year old high school senior about to enter college. A single tear rolls down your chiseled face as you realize your passion for theater has been replaced for a dedication to the gym.

“Are you okay?”

Something feels terribly wrong. And as you look down at your toned abs and meaty pecs, there’s a voice yelling deep from within you that this isn’t you. But no matter how desperately you try to remember being anything other than this meaty, smelly jock-bro, there’s nothing else. A dumb smile etches itself on your face.

“Nah man, I’m good.” You chuckle, “Sorry ‘bout the shirt though. These muscles can’t be contained.”

The career counselor smiles, “No worries. Well, we look forward to you starting in the fall. I’m hopeful that this time will yield you great success.”

“Yeah man, sure.” You grin.

And off you went- likely to the gym. Excited for the future and a career you were truly passionate about.

#male tf #male transformation #mental change #personality tf #jock tf #dumber tf #age regression

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fallinforgyu · 1 year ago

Text

steamroller

pairing: mingi/fem!reader

genre: childhood best friends to lovers, college au, angst, smut - minors do NOT interact

warnings: no dom/sub dynamic, unrequited love, mutual loss of virginity, mingi has a massive cock, fingering, oral sex (f. recieving)

word count: 10k

a/n: i want to be honest with you guys, this is not a comeback. this is just a little fic that i’ve been working on for the past year or so that has brought me a lot of comfort, and i hope that it can do the same for you. i’m not sure if i’ll ever be active on this blog like i used to be, but please know that i will always be a writer and i will always read every single comment, reblog, and note that is sent to me. thank you for being my readers. i love you all so so dearly <3

“Hey, Mingi,” Yunho asked, staring at his distorted reflection in the back of a flimsy dining hall spoon, “Have you ever eaten a girl out before?”

“W-What the fuck?” Mingi choked on his homemade sandwich. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Because I want to go down on my girl on our next date…” he dropped the spoon on his tray, frowning as it clanged. “We’ve already fucked but I think it’ll be a nice way to show her I really care, you know? But I’ve never done it before.”

“Wait-” Mingi dropped his voice to a whisper, leaning forward across the table. “You’ve had sex before?”

“You haven’t?” Yunho grinned.

“Of course I haven’t, asshole! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yunho shrugged. “Guess I just didn’t think it was that important. What time’s your next class?”

“I’m done with classes for the day,” Mingi crumbled the tin foil that previously held his sandwich into a ball. “Yours is at 2:30, right?”

The older boy nodded and the two stood up, making their way to the nearest trash can.

“Besides,” Yunho placed his tray on top of a growing stack of them while Mingi threw away his brown paper bag. “I thought you would’ve already fucked that girl you’re always with by now. What was her name again?”

Mingi’s eyes widened as your name slipped past Yunho’s lips. “Sh!” he hissed, looking over his shoulder. “I told you to stop asking about her. She doesn’t like me like that.”

“But you haven’t even tried!”

“Yes, I have!”

“Giving her a warm Tootsie Roll that had been sitting in your pocket all day does not count as trying.”

“But I gave it to her on Valentine’s Day!” Mingi whined. “That counts for something, right?”

He reluctantly met Yunho’s eyes, groaning when he saw his friend’s lips pressed into a thin line and his head shaking.

“You’ve gotta just tell her, dude. You’re never gonna know if you don’t try.”

He knew Yunho was right. If he ever wanted anything to change, he’d have to talk to you. Otherwise, he’d spend his entire life wondering what would’ve happened if he would’ve just had the balls to tell you.

He’d do it today, he decided, when he met you at your usual spot to walk back to your dorms together. That way, he could just run home if you said you didn’t feel the same way! Perfect plan.

Mingi wiped his hands on his pants as he walked to your usual meeting spot, attempting to calm himself down and hype himself up at the same time.

He was really going to do it now; he was going to spill his heart out and hope that you somehow ended up in his arms. He’d start with how he’d loved you since you were kids when you took swim lessons with him at the community pool. You jumped right in the water when he was too afraid to duck his head underneath, and he remembered wanting to be brave like you. He loved you in middle school when you noticed him struggling with his math homework and offered to help. He loved you when you introduced him to Yunho, your friend from the student council who would end up becoming his best friend. And he loved you two years later, when he read your summer reading book aloud to you because staring at the pages made you sleepy.

He loved you last year when you went to prom together, even when you made a point of announcing to the rest of your group that the two of you were “Just really good friends.”

Oh, well. He loved you when he gave you that Tootsie Roll three months ago, too.

And he loved you now, when he approached you slowly and timidly, waving his hand to get you to look up from your phone.

“Oh, hi,” you grinned, pulling the earbuds out of your ears.

“Hi,” he smiled.

“How was… how was your day?” You asked the same question you always asked when you saw him, but it sounded different this time. It was like an exhale; Like you were breathing the words instead of speaking them. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought you were nervous.

“Good,” he nodded, gripping the straps of his backpack.

“Good!” You repeated, clasping your hands together. “So…”

He braced himself to say it. I’m in love with you. I have been ever since we were kids. I don’t want to be your friend, I want to kiss you.

But you spoke first, and you said, “I think we should have sex.”

He thought that he was having a stroke. He thought that you were having a stroke. “W-what did you say?”

“Hear me out,” you waved your hands and closed your eyes. “We’re the last virgins in our friend group, right? And everyone thinks we’ve already fucked, anyway. So we could just do it together and get it over with so that it’s not as big of a deal when we do it with other people!”

“I don’t…” His face felt like it was on fire. His stomach burned, and his palms were even sweatier than before. Get it over with?

You sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dumped that on you so fast. I’ve just been thinking about it for a few weeks now, and…”

Your voice turned into a murmur in the back of his mind as he analyzed your words. Been thinking about it for weeks now? Thinking about…

“But you don’t have to decide now, okay? I just wanted to see if you would be up for it.”

He slowly blinked and nodded back like an idiot. “O-okay. Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

You nudged his shoulder with yours as you stood up to walk home with him, down the streets of the campus that had been home to you for the past nine months. “And there’s no pressure, alright? You can say I’m gross and you see me like a sister and I won’t be mad,” you laughed.

You’re beautiful. I want you to be my girlfriend.

“I’ll think about it,” he repeated.

“Cool,” you nodded. “How’d that stats test go?”

You felt sick when you tried to go to sleep that night, nauseated with the thought that you might’ve just ruined everything.

You didn’t mean for it to come out so fast. You didn’t mean to make him embarrassed. You only meant to present the idea to him; a sort of business proposal that would benefit the both of you before you went back home for the summer.

None of your friends were virgins anymore. Only you and Mingi were left, and you’d known each other the longest, anyway.

You turned in bed to stare at the pictures of the two of you taped to the collage on your wall. He stood next to you in a cheap rental tuxedo at prom, his mouth pulled into a gummy smile and his arm linked with yours. In another picture, he stood three inches away from you at your middle school graduation, a reminder of the awkward phase the two of you went through when you realized that he was a boy and you were a girl.

But there were pictures from before that time, too, like the one of the two of you covered in nasty, artificially-colored green frosting from the cake at Mingi’s Incredible Hulk-themed birthday party in 2005. Or the two of you dressed up as Cosmo and Wanda from Fairly Odd Parents for Halloween in fourth grade.

Your oldest friend. The person who’d seen you through every phase of your life – even your emo phase in seventh grade – and stuck by you nonetheless.

You thought of his full lips and his broad shoulders, his big hands. He was handsome, there was absolutely no arguing that, but he was also kind and gentle and sweet. He was always the first to notice when something was wrong and the last to believe you when you told him you were fine.

Being his lover would be amazing, but not if it meant you couldn’t be his friend anymore. You wouldn’t fall unless he asked you to because losing him wasn’t an option.

You’d tell him tomorrow to forget it. That it was stupid, and you changed your mind.

Mingi told Yunho about it at lunch the next day.

“She talked to me yesterday,” he mumbled, picking the peel off of a clementine.

“And? What’d she say?” Yunho leaned forward, anticipating Mingi’s answer.

“She wants to fuck me.”

Yunho let out a laugh of disbelief. “Don’t play with me right now.”

“She does! She said, and I quote, ‘I think we should have sex.’”

“Well,” Yunho chuffed, “There you go, buddy! I told you all you had to do was talk to her!”

Mingi knew he didn’t really talk to you. He knew he just listened (well, half-listened, half daydreamed about what losing his virginity to you would be like) while you gabbed on about how it was a win-win situation.

But Yunho seemed so happy… No, proud of him. His validation made Mingi feel good – like this was the right decision.

“So, when are you going to do it?” Yunho squeezed a gluttonous amount of ketchup on his dry chicken patty.

Mingi stared at his Ziploc bag of slightly brown apple slices. “Well… I haven’t really told her I’d do it yet.”

“What? Why not?”

“I just didn’t know if it was right…”

“The girl that you’ve been in love with since you were a kid wants to give you her virginity and take yours at the same time, and you don’t know if it’s right?”

Mingi smiled. “Yeah… I know.”

“Tell her today. I bet you’ll do it before you go home for the summer if you tell her today.”

“Okay, yeah.” Mingi nodded, feeling more sure of himself. “I’ll tell her today.”

You had headphones in when you waited for Mingi after school, but you weren’t listening to any music. There was already too much buzzing around in your head, and music would only overwhelm you even more.

You chewed on your nailbeds and rehearsed your script in your head. Hey, I was way off base yesterday. That was weird and I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. Let’s just pretend it never happened and enjoy the summer, okay?

You saw his sneakers first. They were clean, exactly how they looked when he bought them four months ago.

He was smiling when you looked up.

“Let’s do it.”

“Wait… really?” You tilted your head to the side, trying not to stare at his lips.

“Yeah. You were right, it just makes sense for us to do it together.” His cheeks were pink.

You slowly nodded, trying to convince yourself that it was a good idea again. “Right. Yeah… yeah, it makes sense.” You clapped your hands together. “Well! It’s settled then! Is Yunho leaving town anytime soon?”

“I don’t… I don’t think so?”

You stood up to begin your walk home, and Mingi followed suit.

“Well,” you sighed. “My roommates are probably home, but we should be fine if we’re quiet.”

Mingi stumbled a bit as he walked. “Wait, we’re doing this right now? Like, literally right now?”

“No!” you turned your head towards him as you spoke, but you didn’t look him in the eye. “But don’t you think we should do other stuff first? And like… work up to the big thing?”

“Other stuff?”

“Just to warm us up. You know, so it won’t be as scary when we…” You pictured Mingi naked and on top of you, his eyebrows furrowed and his pretty lips parted in a moan. You cleared your throat. “You know.”

“O-okay,” he nodded. “Okay, yeah.”

Mingi sat on your bed with his hands tucked underneath his thighs to hide how badly they were shaking. He looked around the room, jealous of your full-size bed. He and Yunho were in a shared room dorm, and his feet always hung off the end of his twin mattress.

Meanwhile, you scrolled through your phone to find a good playlist. You hit shuffle on the first one that suited your taste and a familiar song tumbled out of your cheap Bluetooth speaker.

“You’ve kissed someone before, right?” You put your phone on your desk and walked to your bed.

“Yes,” he nodded.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Who?”

He squirmed, adjusting his hands under his thighs. “My lab partner in ninth grade. She felt me up under the bleachers.” I was thinking about you the whole time, his internal monologue chimed in, the words never making it past his lips.

“Gross,” you laughed, sitting on your bed. “Just let me lead, okay? Try to mirror what I do.”

You reached up to hold his jaw, and his entire body stiffened.

“Hey.” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Don’t be nervous, Ming. It’s just me. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want t–”

“I want to!” He interrupted. “Please. I really want to. I’m just nervous.”

You rested both your hands on his shoulders. “It’s just me,” you repeated. “The same me that I’ve always been.”

Yeah, he thought, that’s the problem.

“Just follow my lead.” You gave him an encouraging smile, which he weakly returned. “It’ll be fun, okay?”

Mingi nodded, closed his eyes, and held his breath. A few seconds later, he felt your lips against his, and they were even softer than he imagined. He was sure that his were chapped, and he regretted not wearing lip balm more often like his mom always told him to.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He opened his eyes at the sound of your voice and gave you a tiny shake of his head.

“Do you want another one?” You smiled.

“Yes, please,” he whispered.

You kissed him again, a little bit longer this time. Your lips naturally slotted with his, and butterflies filled his tummy when you rested your hand on his thigh.

And then your lips parted. He wasn’t sure what to do other than follow your lead like you’d told him to, so he let his lips part, as well.

His breath caught in his throat when your hand slid down to his neck. He barely had time to recover before you slipped your tongue in his mouth, playful and teasing and light.

“O-oh,” he breathed, a shiver running through his body.

“How was that?”

“Good. I liked… I liked the part when you used your tongue.”

“Shut up,” you laughed. “You wanna… keep going?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

And that was how Mingi had his first makeout session with his childhood best friend. He tried to keep his whimpers to a minimum, but it was hard to when your kisses progressively got more heated. Your tongue in his mouth was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and he blushed at your giggle when he tried to mirror your movements.

“Such a fast learner, Ming.”

“T-thanks…”

“You know you can touch me, right? You don’t have to sit on your hands.”

He looked down, completely unaware that his hands were still tucked underneath his thighs. They were both numb now, and they tingled when he pulled them up. He flexed and relaxed them to get his blood flowing again.

“I’ve never…” he whispered, “I’m sorry. I don’t- I don’t know where to touch.”

You gave him a smile laced with what might have been pity and took his big hand in yours, moving it to rest on your hip.

“What about the other one?” He whispered, even quieter than before.

And then you were lifting his other hand and placing it on your cheek. His breath caught in his throat again.

It’s strange to truly look at someone whose face has always been a constant in your life. You looked different, but also the same. People change, but they don’t.

Mingi was sure of one thing: your face was the most beautiful he’d ever seen. He liked it ten years ago, and he liked it now.

He kissed you first the next time. And since he’d gotten a little more confident, he let his lips part and used his tongue first, too. He kept his hands where you’d placed them and you kept yours around his neck. You kissed and kissed and kissed, and for now, that was enough.

It didn’t stay enough for long. You and Mingi practically ran to your dorm after school every day, barely taking time to breathe before attaching your mouths together once your door was shut. Your obsession with Mingi’s lips had only grown since you started spending most of your free time kissing them.

His hands were nice, too. They’d gotten a little bit more curious since that day, sometimes giving your hip a gentle squeeze or moving up to your waist while he kissed you. Any noise you’d make would immediately be met with a “sorry” – a constant reminder that no matter how attractive the boy you were making out with was, he was still just the same old Mingi.

And the little reactions he’d make were precious. He’d gasp when you touched his thighs, he’d hum when you stroked his neck, he’d whimper when you took his plump bottom lip between your teeth. The more you worked him up, the luckier you felt to have been the only person to have ever seen him like this.

You wondered how that could be while you sucked his lips. Plenty of girls had crushed on Mingi over the years. You knew because they’d always ask you if you were his girlfriend before they tried to confess to him. No matter how many times you told them you weren’t, he never ended up dating any of them.

You detached from his lips with a smack. “Mingi?”

“Mm?” He blinked, eyes slightly glazed over and lips swollen from kisses.

“Why haven’t you had a girlfriend before?”

His eyes widened for a split second, and he tried to cover it up by blinking a few times. “Uh… just never met the right person, I guess.”

“But girls have been throwing themselves at you for years… You didn’t ever want to try anything with them?”

“Guess I just wanted to wait for someone that I really…” he swallowed. “Trust.”

That made sense. The thought of doing all of these things with a stranger was horrifying, but you felt safe with Mingi. You smiled, kissing the corner of his mouth.

“I trust you too, Ming. Wanna try something new?”

“O-okay, yeah.”

You tapped his shoulder twice. “Lay down.”

Like a puppy who’d just been given a command, he lowered himself against your pillows, swinging his legs up so he was laying on the bed. You swung a leg over his hips to straddle them, and his eyes immediately widened.

You’d never really taken time to admire how pretty Mingi was. His chest, which was more toned than you’d realized, was swelling and deflating as he attempted to stabilize his breathing. His Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed, and you’d be stupid to not notice the way his thick thighs tensed and relaxed underneath his black jeans.

And then you leaned down, hovering over him to study his face. You ran your thumb over his sharp jaw as you took in his other features; The same darkness in his eyes that wasn’t mysterious, but warm and inviting. The straight line of his nose, the pointed tip of it. The birthmark under his eye, the one on his cheek, the acne scars that dotted his cheeks like stars. Those fucking lips.

Mingi was really fucking cute. Had he always been?

You kissed him again, smiling when a little whimper escaped his lips.

“Cute,” you mumbled, unaware that the word had left your mouth until it was too late.

Or maybe it was a good thing that you said it. Mingi’s response was enough to make you think that, at least. He moaned again, louder this time, as he pushed his hips forward against yours.

Mingi always got hard during your makeout sessions, but you always pretended not to notice to spare him from any embarrassment. However, pretending not to notice was incredibly difficult with his bulge grinding against your heat.

He moaned at the stimulation, but quickly interrupted himself. “Ooh-sorry! I’m so sorry, that wasn’t on purpo–”

You clapped a hand over his mouth. “I told you we have to be quiet.”

He nodded, eyes wide as your hand stayed pressed to his mouth. You slid it down to rest on his chest when you whispered in his ear. “Don’t be sorry. That’s what I wanted to try.”

You pushed and pulled your hips against his erection again in one experimental thrust, grinning when his eyes screwed shut and his lips pressed together. You cupped his face to guide his lips to yours again.

It was as uncoordinated as two virgins could be. Though your lips easily moved together from a week of practice, neither of your hips were skilled enough to set any sort of rhythm. You just desperately grabbed at each other, groping and humping and kissing like your lives depended on it.

Soon, you could feel your soaking panties uncomfortably sticking to your core. The fabric gave you the tiniest bit of stimulation, dragging against your clit and ever-so-slightly teasing you. And the boy underneath you was driving you insane, with his messy kisses and his tiny groans.

You didn’t know what the end goal was, but you knew that it felt better when you grinded your hips faster, so that’s what you did.

“Ah-” You silenced Mingi’s moan by pressing your mouth to his again, sighing as he hummed against your lips.

And then he whimpered your name. He’d said your name a thousand times before, but he’d never said it like this. Like it was a cry for help, a desperate plea for something. The sound fueled the fire of your desperation as you continued moving your hips, hoping to God that he’d say it again.

And he did. You attached your lips to his neck and he whined your name once more, followed by a tiny breath of, “O-oh, god…”

His little sounds were getting better and better. Your name slipped past his lips between breathy whimpers and choked hums, and you kept licking and sucking his neck while you grinded your clothed, soaking pussy against his painfully hard, just as clothed dick.

Finally, you took pity on the poor thing. His moans were getting increasingly desperate, and you could tell that he was doing everything in his power to keep them quiet. You hovered your lips directly over his ear.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“A-ah-mph!” He squeezed his eyes shut as he writhed on the bed, pressing his hand to his mouth to keep his pathetic noises in. His whole body was shaking when you sat up.

A wet patch on the crotch of his jeans made the dark fabric even darker, and a horrified expression washed over his face as your eyes immediately landed on it. If he would’ve looked between your legs, he would’ve noticed that your shorts were just as soaked, but he didn’t. He only saw your dumbfounded expression as you tried to figure out what you were supposed to say. All that came out was, “D-did you just…?”

You just made a boy cum. From kissing. This had to have been the best day of your life.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, pushing you off of him. He immediately stood up, locating his jacket on your desk and holding it in front of his pants as he slid his bag over his shoulder. “I’m… I’m sorry.” He looked down the whole time, never letting his eyes meet yours as he slipped his way out of your bedroom door.

“Mingi!” you called two seconds too late. “You’re not going to–”

You sighed, letting your voice get quiet. “Help me?”

He didn’t come back, leaving you with soaking panties and an unsatiated pulsing between your legs that wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

You texted him the next morning.

It’s not a big deal, Ming. Do you want to come over?

He didn’t respond. You went the whole weekend without hearing from him, and even when you waited for him at your usual spot on Monday, he didn’t show. You sent him another text.

Stop being stupid. I miss you.

He didn’t respond to that, either. By Tuesday, you were so anxious to see him that you waited outside his lecture hall after his morning class, scanning the crowd of faces for him. He wasn’t difficult to find; his tall frame easily distinguished him from the rest of the crowd, even with his shoulders slouched. He made eye contact with you and immediately put his head down, walking faster.

“Mingi!” You yelled, weaving through the crowd to follow him.

His pace quickened, his long legs carrying him out of the brick building and through the grassy common area, skillfully dodging flying frisbees and strategically-hung Enos.

“Mingi! This…” you panted. “This isn’t fair! Your legs are longer than mine!”

He flinched with each call of his name, but he didn’t turn around. He didn’t slow down. You picked up your pace to a jog, huffing as you tried to catch up to him. “MINGI! Stop fucking ignoring me!”

After quickening your steps to a borderline sprint, you finally got close enough to grab the handle of his backpack, yanking him backwards and causing both of you to collapse on the lawn in the process.

“Ow…” he whined, rubbing his butt and attempting to brush grass off of it.

“You…” you breathed. “You fucking suck. Why aren’t you talking to me?”

“W-What do you want me to say? What the hell am I supposed to say after humiliating myself like that?”

“I told you it wasn’t a big deal, stupid! I wanted to make you feel good!”

His ears burned as he looked at you with wide eyes, a mixture of embarrassment and shock painting his face.

“And you… you didn’t even stay and help me. I was more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life, and you just got up and left! Right after I helped you finish! Who the fuck does that?”

“I…” he breathed, trying not to pass out. He made you more turned on than you’d ever been in your life? “I didn’t think you wanted me to…”

“You didn’t think I wanted to feel good, too?”

“No!” he stammered, “No, I just… I didn’t think, I mean, I thought you would think I was gross.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Mingi, the entire point of having sex is to feel good. I didn’t think you were gross, I was jealous of you.”

And see, that was where he fundamentally disagreed with you. As far as Mingi was concerned, the entire point of having sex was to be intimate with someone you love. Feeling good was just a bonus.

He loved you so fucking much. Knowing that you didn’t feel the same way about him made his chest physically ache, but he knew that you needed him, and that was more than he could have hoped for. If you didn’t love him, at least you could love the way he made you feel.

“I’ll make it up to you next time,” he assured you. “I promise I’m gonna make you feel good.”

Your smile reappeared, and he felt like he’d been hit by a train.

“Yeah,” you laughed, punching his shoulder. “You better. Wanna try that new boba place?”

The boba was mid, but it was nice to just be in Mingi’s presence again. He crumpled his straw wrapper as he told you about his weekend, how his mom’s birthday was coming up, and how things were getting more serious between Yunho and his girlfriend.

You liked the sound of his voice. You remembered when it used to crack all the time in middle school, but it had since balanced out into a smooth baritone, cascading your ears in warmth.

“Are you listening to me?”

“What? Yes.”

“No, you’re not,” he scoffed. ”You’ve been staring at my lips for the past five minutes.”

“Yeah, because you have foam on them.”

He immediately wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his ears flushing a bright red as he mumbled a disingenuous “fuck you.”

The foam was only a scapegoat. You both knew how much you loved his lips.

“Speaking of fuck you…” You shifted in your metal chair. “When… when are we going to… you know…”

“What?”

“You know…” You looked to the side, your eyes widening.

His heartrate doubled. “Oh. Um… I don’t know. Was there… did you have a specific time in mind?”

“Sorry, didn’t realize I needed to make an appointment,” you laughed. “I don’t know. I just… I want to. Soon.”

He remembered your words. Get it over with.

“Okay,” he nodded. “We can. Soon.”

You picked up his hand that was resting on the table to play with his fingers, pinching them between your smaller ones while you chewed on a ball of sweet tapioca.

He swallowed and watched you, his eyes glazing over. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Your stomach dropped a bit when you met his starry eyes. You didn’t know why.

Two days later and you had Mingi underneath you again, his hands gripping your waist while you sucked on those perfect lips.

“Gonna make you feel good this time…” he whispered, trying to catch his breath between your feverish kisses. “Promise.”

You just rested your hand on the back of his neck and sighed.

“Can I… Is it okay if I take your shirt off?” He asked, his face a deep shade of red.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “It’s okay.”

But he didn’t move, so you tugged on the hem of your shirt and lifted it off yourself. His breath caught in his throat when he saw your half-naked torso, covered by nothing but a slightly too tight purple bra that you got on clearance a few years ago.

He shakily brushed a fingertip over the little bow in the center of it.

Your face felt so hot you were sure water would boil if someone rested a pot on your cheek.

“Can you… take your shirt off, too? This feels weird.” You covered your torso with your arms.

“O-oh, yeah,” he nodded. “I’m sorry. Yeah.”

You scooted back so that he could sit up, his trembling hands lifting his shirt over his head.

His chest was flushed red. That was the first thing you noticed. And his belly was lean, but also soft and smooth, puffing and deflating with his shallow breath.

You rested a hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat. He just watched you.

“We’re not kids anymore…” you whispered. There was a sad tone to your words, almost as if you were grieving.

“No,” Mingi shook his head, his voice barely audible. “We’re not.”

It was a beautifully horrifying realization. The kid you used to make mud soup with was a man now, and he was touching you like you’d never been touched before.

You kissed him then. To comfort him, to comfort yourself, to be closer to the person who already knew you better than anyone in the universe.

You unclasped your bra and just let it loosely rest on top of your chest.

“Hey,” Mingi whispered, “Just me, remember?”

Right. Just Mingi.

You tossed your bra to the side, instinctively covering your boobs with your hands.

“Please…” Mingi placed his hands over yours. “I want to see you.”

He sighed when you removed your hands, just as slowly.

“Pretty…” he mumbled. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

You nodded and he ran his hands over the lines on your sides where your bra had been digging into your skin. You cursed yourself for not buying a new one before this. Maybe he’d like one of those silk push-up bras you always saw your friends wearing, or perhaps one of those flimsy lace bralettes that you saw in the windows at Victoria’s Secret last week.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and the insecurity in your stomach almost vanished completely. Almost.

He leaned forward, cupping one of your tits in his huge hand and gently kissing the other. You gasped when you felt his wet tongue drag across your nipple, and he looked up at you for reassurance while you laced your fingers through his hair.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Y-yeah, that feels good….”

He gently latched his mouth to your nipple, sucking and then running his soft tongue over the flesh to soothe it. You didn’t mean to, but you arched your back, and his free hand found a place in the dip of your waist.

You subconsciously tugged on his hair as he sucked your other nipple. He worshipped your tits, kissing, sucking, and licking them while you quietly moaned, grinding against his erection. You wanted to let him continue all night, but soon, the pulsing between your thighs started to become unbearable.

“Ming… need you to fuck me,” you whispered. “Please.”

He pulled back a bit, his plump lips glossy and his adam’s apple dipping as he swallowed.

“Okay.”

He didn’t move and you didn’t, either. You just looked at each other, breathing heavy though you’d hardly done anything yet.

“... Nobody’s ever seen me naked before,” he said under his breath.

You shook your head. “Me neither.”

He kissed you again, but it was really just so that you wouldn’t watch him while he took his pants off. And you weren’t sure what you were doing, you weren’t sure why, but once both of your pants were off, you reached a hand down and felt him through the thin fabric of his boxers.

He took in a sharp inhale.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “Is this okay?”

And then you felt a large hand between your thighs, softly rubbing you through your panties.

It felt so much different from when you did it to yourself. More pleasurable, sure, but also more vulnerable. More intense.

Neither of you knew what to say. You felt how hard he was against your hand. He felt the little wet patch soaking through your panties. You both needed this desperately, and yet for a few moments, nobody moved.

“Y-you can take them off of me.” Your voice was barely above a whisper and it cracked in the middle, but you were proud of yourself for getting the words out.

His hands shook when he slid them down your thighs. Before he could stare for too long, you slid your fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pushed them down.

You weren’t sure if he was big or not. You’d never seen a penis in real life before, only in porn, and he looked about the same size as what you’d seen in porn. Did that mean he was big?

He looked down, and you realized you were staring. “Sorry,” you stammered, forcing yourself to look him in the eye again.

“N-no, it’s okay. Is it… I mean, do you like it?”

Your face broke into a smile. Mingi, Mingi, Mingi. “Yes, it’s lovely, Ming. Stop stressing.”

You reached for a condom on your nightstand, closely inspecting the foil packet for instructions.

“I think I can do it,” he mumbled, gently taking the condom out of your hand.

“You know how to?”

“I think so.”

After a few minutes of him fumbling with the latex, his lips were on yours again and you could feel his dick resting on your thigh.

“Are you ready?” He pulled back for a moment to look you in the eye.

“M-mhm,” you nodded.

He kissed your cheek and held his dick in his hand, aligning himself. A painful stretching sensation flooded your lower half as his thick tip poked at your entrance.

He inhaled shakily. “C-can I… can I push it in now?”

You nodded. “I… think so? Y-yeah… go ahead…”

He pushed his hips forward, and the sensation intensified when you felt his tip enter you with a pop. The pain was excruciating, unlike anything you’d ever felt before. A horrid stretch, almost like a burn, splitting you open in the worst way. Tears pricked into your eyes.

“OW! Ow, ow, ow, stop, stop, stop!” You pushed his broad shoulders away, whimpering when he frantically pulled out. That hurt, too.

“O-oh my god, are you okay? What did I- D-did I do something wrong?”

You looked down at his dick, which was still fully hard. He was big, you supposed. Really big. With his cock resting on your stomach, it went all the way up to your belly button. You felt stupid for thinking you could take him without any prep.

And you also felt embarrassed. This wasn’t how your first time was supposed to go. This didn’t happen in porn. You were supposed to be screaming his name, he was supposed to be groaning yours and pounding you into the mattress. You were supposed to be making him feel good, and he was supposed to be doing the same for you. A lump formed in your throat and you attempted to blink the tears out of your eyes, which probably just made them more teary.

“No,” you breathed. “I think… I don’t think I’m wet enough.”

He frowned. “Did we not kiss for long enough?”

“No, no, we did.” Guilt crept into your chest. You knew this wasn’t how he pictured his first time going, either.

His frown intensified as a pained look washed over his face. “Are you not… is it because you’re not attracted to me?”

“Stop it, Mingi. It’s not for any reason. You didn’t do anything wrong. Let’s just… we can get lube from the store and try again tomorrow, okay? I can jerk you off to help you finish if you want.”

His heart ached. He didn’t want you to ‘help him finish.’ He wanted to make love to you, soft and tender and slow. He wanted to hold your face and kiss your forehead and tell you how much you meant to him.

But his dick was painfully hard, and there aren’t many times that the love of your life offers to help you finish even though they don’t feel the same way about you, so he said, “Yes, please.”

You wrapped your fingers around his erection, biting your cheek to stop yourself from crying. He bit his lip to do the same.

Mingi couldn’t make eye contact with the cashier when he bought lube from the drug store the next day. His hands shook as he put his card into the reader, and they kept shaking while he entered his pin number. The machine dinged and he yanked his card out, snatching the plastic bag from the cashier before they had time to offer him a receipt. His face burned the entire walk to your dorm and didn’t stop burning once he got there.

His breath caught in his throat when you opened the door. “I got the…” he held the plastic bag up. “I got the stuff.”

You laughed and stepped back to let him inside. “You make it sound like we’re about to do drugs.”

Yeah, something like that.

Mingi didn’t say anything when you sat him on your bed and straddled his hips. He whimpered a little bit when you pressed your lips to his, and you assumed that it was just because he was horny.

You held the side of his neck and worked your tongue against his, rolling your hips forward to grind against his growing bulge. He whimpered again, and you moved your face down to suck on his neck.

“I think you need to finger me first,” you whispered in his ear.

“W-what?” He blinked up at you for a moment, his eyes wide and starry before he shyly looked away. “I’ve never… I mean… I don’t know how to do that.”

“It can’t be that hard, right? You just take your fingers and, like… put them in me.”

“I think it’s a little more complicated than that.”

“Well… I’ll just tell you what feels good, okay? I do it to myself all the time.”

His eyes snapped up again as he imagined you touching yourself. He’d thought about it before, late at night when he was jerking off, but hearing you say it out loud made him feel dizzy. Flames erupted across his cheeks again, and his body tensed.

Your face burned with the realization of your confession. “Stop picturing it.”

“S-sorry.”

“I just need your fingers first, okay? I can’t… I can’t take your dick without some prep first.”

It was like you wanted him to cum in his pants again. He nodded and reached for the plastic bag, fishing out the lube and taking it out of its little purple box.

“I’m sorry about yesterday, by the way.” His voice was quiet.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. That’s why we’re doing this together, you know? Because we feel safe around each other.”

He nodded.

“But for the record…” You lowered your head, still embarrassed about how yesterday went. “I’m sorry, too.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He smiled.

You kissed him, and you were so glad that you were kissing him.

“I’m really going to need you to walk me through this because I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.” His cheeks were a splotchy red.

You laughed. “I promise it sounds scarier than it actually is.” You pulled your shirt over your head, embarrassed again when you realized you were wearing the same purple bra that you wore yesterday.

“Shit,” you breathed. “I meant to wear something nicer for you today. Sorry.”

For me? Mingi thought. For me?

But he said, “I like this one. It’s cute.” And he touched the little bow again.

“Thanks.” You climbed off of his lap to take your shorts off. “Lift your arms.”

He obeyed, and you lifted his shirt over his head. It didn’t need to be off yet, you supposed, but you’d been dreaming about Mingi’s lean abdomen all day and you didn’t want to wait another second to have it under your fingertips again.

You laid down on the bed and slid your panties off, but didn’t spread your legs yet. You felt vulnerable again, especially considering that Mingi still had his pants on.

“C-can you–” you started.

“Yeah,” Mingi nodded, already unbuttoning his pants. When they were off, he sat back down and gently brushed his fingertips over your thigh.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Tell me what to do.”

“Just… just kiss me for a second.” The truth was, you weren’t even really sure how to give him instructions, and you wanted to buy yourself some time. You usually just felt around until something felt good, and you weren’t sure how to explain that to him.

He kissed you. You decided that even if he was always too big for you, even if you couldn’t ever take his full length, you’d probably be just as happy kissing him and jerking him off like you did last night.

You felt his hand on your inner thigh and you liked the feeling.

“Okay, so…” you inhaled deeply. “Just start with one. And you can just kinda… feel around? I’ll tell you what feels good.”

“Okay,” he nodded, taking a deep breath, too. “Okay.”

He dripped some of the lube onto his fingers, rubbing it with his thumb in an attempt to warm it up. Your body tensed as you felt his finger slide between your folds, shaking slightly as he rubbed you up and down.

He seemed to stop breathing for a moment. His eyes just raked over your body, all wide and starry while he clumsily touched you.

“You’re gorgeous,” he breathed. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“M-Mingi, Ah-” You let out a tiny yelp when his fingertip brushed your clit.

“Did I hurt you?” He immediately stopped, taking his fingers away.

“N-no, that felt good… really good…” You nodded.

He tried to find the spot again, clumsily drawing circles around it.

“S-so good. Yeah, r-right there,” you sighed.

His fingertip slipped a little too far to the left.

“N-no, back where it was.”

After a few seconds of “Here?” and “No, here,” back and forth, he found the spot again and gently traced it.

Your eyes rolled back and closed as your body twitched, trying to get used to the sensation of being touched by another person.

Then his fingers slid further down, but it was intentional this time.

Mingi looked you in the eye and didn’t say anything as he gently circled his fingertip around your opening, coating it in lube and spreading your arousal at the same time.

You didn’t say anything, either. You couldn’t if you tried. But he understood your tiny nod and the look of desperation in your eyes, so he gently pushed his finger inside.

His long, thick finger went deeper than your own ever had, but it didn’t hurt. “O-ohh,” you breathed, shivering.

Mingi was at a loss for words. Your pussy was hugging his finger so tight and you felt so warm and the tiny noises that you were making were about to send him over the edge. “Fuck…” he sharply inhaled through his teeth, staring up at the ceiling for a minute so that he didn’t cum untouched.

“M-Mingi,” you breathed, “Go like this.” And then you held a finger up and curved it inward, and he immediately obeyed.

Your back arched to a borderline uncomfortable degree as you let out a pathetic little noise, and Mingi seriously was on the edge of an orgasm already.

“I-is that a sensitive spot?”

“Do it again,” you commanded. “Mingi, do that again.”

He did, and then he did it a few more times, pumping his finger and setting a rhythm. You were probably being a little too squirmy, but you couldn’t help it. Nothing had ever felt like this before.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “Add another one.”

Mingi meant to ask ‘Are you sure?’ but his head was so fuzzy with arousal that he just obeyed, pushing his middle finger in next to his pointer finger.

“S-shit,” you gasped, sitting up and holding his wrist. “Hold on a sec– fuck.”

“Are you okay?”

“It feels good,” you nodded. “Just forgot how thick these are.”

He understood. He could almost feel you stretching out, and he suddenly felt horribly guilty for not offering to do this before he attempted to put his dick inside of you yesterday.

“You’re doing amazing,” he encouraged you, nodding slightly. “J-just let me know when you want more, okay?”

“C-can you…” You blushed, too shy to complete your sentence.

He knit his eyebrows at you, giving you an encouraging nod. He felt your pussy tighten around his fingers, and he tried not to groan.

“What do you need, baby?” He soothed, “Just tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

Your face burned. Mingi had never been more attractive to you, with his lips swollen and his cheeks flaming and his fingers deep inside of you. He was gently thrusting his fingers, massaging your g-spot, tracing your opening, and stretching you out all in a fluid motion.

“C-can you play with my clit again while you do that?” You whispered.

He nodded immediately, smiling and circling his thumb around your pebbled clit.

“O-ohh…” you moaned, burying your face in his neck. “Oh my god…”

He swallowed roughly. “G-good…” He encouraged as he felt you slowly relax around his fingers.

Your back arched, tiny little whimpers escaping you as Mingi made love to you with his hand.

And he was barely holding it together. He could feel the tip of his dick sticking to his boxers, precum smearing against the fabric and providing his cockhead with the tiniest bit of friction every time he moved his hips.

“Do you want one more? Or are you good with two?” His voice was hoarse.

“I d-on’t—“ You inhaled sharply, eyes closing as you felt the tiny spark of an orgasm in your core. “D-don’t think I can take a third…”

Mingi nodded, and then he kissed your forehead. He wanted to speak, but he was putting all of his effort into keeping up a steady rhythm with his hand and not coming in his pants while your tensed thigh rubbed his dick.

And then it was silent for a few moments, except for the quiet squelching coming from between your legs every few seconds.

“I think I’m gonna cum.” You whispered, keeping your eyes closed. Focusing on that feeling, chasing it.

Mingi swallowed, his breath catching. “Mm.” He hummed. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Your breath caught in your throat, the rest of it escaping in a choked whimper. “F-faster…” You breathed, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Please.”

He nodded, quickening his movements. You leaned up, catching his lips in a messy kiss as you got closer and closer.

You were quieter than you thought you’d be. As your orgasm approached, you hardly made any noise at all, save for a few little gasps.

Your mouth dropped open and you pressed your forehead to your lover’s, letting out one single moan as your orgasm clenched down on his fingers. It ran through your body in waves, your muscles tensing and releasing rhythmically.

“My god…” Mingi groaned, continuing his movements. “G-Good job, baby.”

You squeaked, gently pushing his hand away as you neared overstimulation. His brows furrowed as he worried that he’d hurt you, but you immediately eased his anxiety by holding the back of his neck and pressing your lips to his again.

“Felt so good…” You mumbled through kisses. “T-think I’m ready now…”

His heart fluttered as he felt your hand between his legs, stroking his sensitive thighs. And then he looked at you in a way that a boy had never looked at you before, with big, dark, sparkling, pleading eyes. Like he needed you.

So gently, like you were afraid he’d break, you slipped his dick out of his blue plaid boxers. He was so hard, so sticky and pulsing that you were sure he must have been in pain. “Thank you for making me feel good,” you whispered. “I know it must have been hard to wait…”

He shook his head, closing his eyes. “Don’t thank me.” He let out a tiny noise as you stroked him once. “I loved it,” he breathed. “I loved doing that for you.”

You smiled, kissing him again. “Take these off,” you pleaded, tugging at the waistband of his boxers.

Mingi pushed them down, kicking them off the bed at his feet. And then he was fully naked, hovering above you, also fully naked. It should have been scary, but you’d never felt more safe. You reached your arms behind him, stroking his back before sliding your hands down to teasingly squeeze his ass.

He let out a choked noise and you laughed. “Sorry, I’ve always wanted to do that. You have a really nice ass.”

He shook his head, laughing and kissing you again.

“You’re really beautiful, Mingi.” You whispered, feeling another pang in your core as he groaned at the praise.

He reached a hand up, squeezing your breast as he kissed you and kissed you and kissed you. His heavy cock rested on your belly, clear precum sticking to your soft skin.

You reached for the condom on the nightstand, carefully ripping it open. His eyes didn’t leave your face as you gently rolled it onto him, your small hand wrapping around his girth. You slid his tip between your folds, then coated it in even more lube. You knew it might still hurt a little bit, but you felt much more prepared for it this time.

“The second it starts to hurt,” he whispered, his voice raspy. “You tell me.”

You nodded. The two of you looked into each other’s eyes, and didn’t look away when his tip was aligned with your entrance.

But his eyes fluttered shut a bit when he slipped inside. He couldn’t help it.

Your gasp made him open his eyes again. “Are you okay?”

“Mmh–” You nodded, your voice high pitched and squeaky. He pushed forward, filling you, stretching you, making you his.

“Mingi…” You whined, tears blurring your vision. “S-so big…”

He kissed away the first tear that fell. “I know, I’m sorry,” he whispered, “Y-You’re doing so well.”

He stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his length.

“Is it…” You looked up at him with teary eyes. “Is it all the way in yet?”

“Not yet.” His eyes were full of empathy and adoration. “Can you take any more? It’s okay if you can’t.”

You whimpered. “S’big, Mingi.”

“I know, baby, I know it’s big. Does it feel good? D-Does it hurt?”

“It feels…” you trailed off. “It feels good but it hurts. I dunno if I can take any more.”

“That’s okay,” he nodded, kissing your forehead. “You feel s-so good just like this.”

“R-really?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “You feel amazing. So… so fucking good.” He gritted his teeth as he spoke, shaking and sweating and forcing himself to not instinctively start fucking you hard and fast. “Can I move a little bit now?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “Slow, please.”

He pulled back so that only the very end of his tip was dipped into your opening, then shakily pushed forward in a single stroke, a little over three quarters of the way inside.

Tears stung his and your eyes. You felt better than anything he’d ever felt before, and the stretching sensation was starting to feel more pleasant than painful.

“I’m so…” he whimpered. “I’m so proud of you. You’re taking me so well.”

“Mingi…” you whined in response, clawing at his back. “F-feels good.”

“Yeah?” His eyes met yours. “It feels good?”

“Mmm. I want… want you to fuck me. B-but slow, okay?”

He visibly shivered, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as his whole body became covered in goosebumps.

“T-tell me if it’s too much.”

He attempted to set a pace then, slowly pushing and pulling his hips to halfway-fuck you as gently as he possibly could. Little moans slipped from your lips in time with his thrusts.

“Ungh…” he whimpered, “God. F-feels so good. You’re so…” his eyebrows furrowed. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“Mingi…” You rested your hand on his cheek. “Kiss.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His perfectly full lips gently kissed yours, softly massaging his tongue into your mouth while he slowly pumped his cock in and out of you. You were embarrassed that you couldn’t take his whole length yet, but you decided in that moment that this wouldn’t be the last time you did this with him, and you had all the time in the world to train for the entirety of him.

“Fuck…” he repeated, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m… I’m close. I’m sorry.”

“You are?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at him, a moan slipping from your lips when his thrusts got a bit faster.

That was fast, you thought, but it was his first time, you supposed. You hoped he had good stamina, because you didn’t want this night to be anywhere close to over.

“I c-can’t…” His hips were starting to shake a bit. “God, you feel so good. Squeezing me so tight.”

“Ming…” you whispered, holding his face. “I wanna make you cum. Want you to cum for me.”

“Oh, fuck…” he whimpered. “God, f-fuck-“

His voice cracked as his eyes squeezed shut, his belly tensing and his lips dropping open in a silent moan.

And for a few seconds, time didn’t exist. There was only him and you and your bodies, like this was how you were always meant to be. You felt his big hand on your waist and his thick length stretching you out, but you also felt that same comforting atmosphere that always followed him around. You saw his face, the one that you knew so well, contorted in pleasure, and you heard his familiar voice making unfamiliar noises. And there was no one in the world you’d rather do this with. There was no one else you wanted to kiss.

“I love you.”

He cried out as he came, curling in on himself and burying his face in your neck as he pulled out so just his tip was inside, pumping the condom full of his load.

He pulled out and rested his cock on your belly, huffing in your neck as he caught his breath.

You stroked his hair and swallowed, a lump forming in your throat.

You said it. You told him out loud and you’d never be able to take it back.

He just kept breathing down your neck, sweaty and shaking and wondering if he heard you right.

“I– I tried not to…” you breathed. “I tried so hard not to fall in love with you. You’re my best friend and you mean more to me than anyone else. But I just…”

You swallowed. There was really no going back now.

“I see you smiling and it hits me like a steamroller. Like my chest is knocked in and I can’t breathe. It feels… It feels like I’m suffocating and I don’t know how to stop it or make it go away.”

You felt his large hand hold your jaw, and his lips were on yours.

“Please… be my girlfriend,” he mumbled, breathless between kisses.

You pulled back to look in his eyes. “What?”

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. Please, please, please be my girlfriend.”

Your face broke a little bit. “You have?”

He nodded, and then his face broke, too. “Please say yes.” He held your face, looking deep into your eyes. “P-please, baby.”

“Obviously yes,” you smiled, tears so close to spilling from your eyes. “Dummy.”

“I love you,” he cried, kissing you again. “I love you so fucking much.”

“Mingi,” you breathed, for no reason other than to say his name.

He kissed you and cried and you kissed him and cried, and he suddenly remembered what Yunho said. A nice way to show her I really care.

He kissed down your neck, across your chest, on your nipples, over your belly, until his shoulders were between your thighs.

“W-what are you doing?” You asked, looking down at him a little too innocently.

“I don’t really know,” he sighed, leaning forward and kissing your dewy pussy.

“A-ah! Mingi!” Your legs instinctively closed around his head, and his big hands gently pried them open again.

“It’s okay…” he breathed, leaning forward again. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He sweetly kissed your inner thigh before spreading you with his tongue.

You whimpered and squirmed, grabbing a fistful of his soft dark hair.

“You sound so pretty,” he mumbled, kissing your clit, “And you taste so good…”

His thick, plump lips worked with his velvet tongue to worship your pussy. And it was loud, the room filled with wet sounds and Mingi’s groans, along with the pathetic little moans you were letting out.

You looked down at him. His ears and cheeks were dark red, his eyes closed, the sharp tip of his nose shiny and wet.

“T-that feels really good, Ming—“ You were interrupted by your own gasp as his tongue slipped into your entrance.

“You’re mine now…” His deep voice sounded gravelly and thick. “You’re all fucking mine…”

“Mingi…” You whimpered, lacing your fingers through his hair as his lips sweetly sucked your clit. How did you learn how to do this? You wanted to ask.

But he was moaning against you again before the thought could finish. “I’m gonna do this every fuckin’ day…” He blinked slowly, a string of drool connecting his lips and your pussy. He used his broad shoulders to push your legs open even wider, taking a deep breath before diving back in.

This time, he slipped two fingers inside of you while he worked his tongue. He closed his eyes, enjoying the taste of you while he passionately used his fingers and tongue.

“I’ve dreamed of this…” He paused to kiss your inner thighs. “Wanted this for so long… needed to know what you tasted like.”

“Mingi…” You breathed, watching as his pink tongue drew circles around your clit. “I-I’m gonna cum again…”

“Yes,” he groaned, never coming up for air. “Please, baby. Come in my mouth. I wanna taste all of it, please… wanna lick you clean.”

Hearing those filthy words come from shy, sweet Mingi’s mouth made your stomach flutter. Your thighs clenched around his head as he gave you the most enthusiastic slurp of the night, the otherwise silent room filled with the sounds of his mouth devouring you.

You moaned so loud when you came that there was no doubt in your mind that your roommates heard. Mingi’s groans of enthusiasm were hardly muted, either.

Your thighs twitched, your body shook and your hips pressed against Mingi’s warm mouth as your orgasm consumed you, and you’d never felt more adored in your life.

And then he didn’t stop.

“Mingi!” You cried out, trying to squirm away from his tongue.

But he looped his arm under one of your thighs, keeping you pried open. He used his other hand to spread your pussy, groaning as he licked it again.

“My girl…” He mumbled, and he seemed to be drunk off the taste of you, talking to himself. “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy…”

Your eyes widened and you twitched as his tongue flicked inside of you again. You’d never seen this side of Mingi before; you’d never seen anything close to this side of Mingi before… and you really, really didn’t want it to stop. But—

“I’m really sensitive, Ming…”

That seemed to snap him out of his trance a bit. He looked up, moving his body up to sweetly kiss your lips again. “I’m sorry, baby. You j-just…” He sighed, catching his breath. “You taste so good.”

You smiled. “I really like it when you call me baby.”

He kissed your forehead then collapsed on the bed, laying next to you. You rolled onto your side, gently stroking his belly.

“Do you feel good?” He asked softly, his full cheeks blushing. “Was that enough?”

“Enough?” You laughed in disbelief. “It was perfect.” You nodded. “Perfect.”

“I’ll always make sure you’re satisfied, okay?” Your boyfriend looked you in the eye, his brow slightly furrowed. “A-and I’ll always make sure you’re taken care of. I’ll make sure your belly is always full and your shoes never get dirty.”

A kiss on his chin, your face in his neck. “It’s just me, Mingi. Just you and me.”

“Just us…” He mumbled, “Just like always.”

You nodded and then sat in silence, touching and being touched. He stroked your thigh with his pinky, his eyes on your lips.

“In our own little world. Just the two of us.”

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