#and i'm just over here like CAN I FINISH THE FUCKING FICS I HAVE FIRST BEFORE I DECIDE TO FUCKING WORK ON ANYTHING NEW?! PLEASE?!

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

okay...here goes...

(I wish you would write) a modern short au about Violet as a celebrity or princess or something, and Xaden as her bodyguard🤭🤭🫶

Okay I'm cheating a little on this one because I have something like this in my drafts already!! This was actually one of @skyfallscotland's prompt fics in which Lilith was the US President, and after a failed assassination attempt on the campaign trail, she assigns Xaden to be Violet's body guard. For reasons I hope are obvious, I don't want to finish it anymore. However, the first chapter was done in it's entirety by the time I scrapped it, so you can have 2.3k ish words of body guard Xaden!! (below the cut)

When Violet gets a knock on her door, she is not expecting it to have anything to do with her mother. The entire reason she’d gone to college in California was so that anything having to do with her mother would be a country away. And for the most part, it had worked. Her freshman and sophomore years had gone off without a hitch. In her classes that aren’t 99% poli sci majors, she doesn’t even get recognized, and she couldn’t be happier. 

She abandons her spot on the couch, and sets her planner to the side as she stands to answer the door. She doesn’t bother checking the peep hole, because she assumes it’s doordash for Ridoc, or last minute school supplies for Sawyer, or Rhiannon staying very ahead of her Christmas shopping. 

What she sees instead is a man. He’s tall, with dark, wavy hair, and dark skin. His arms—very broad, ridiculously so, some might say—are crossed over his chest— which is also notably broad. He’s squinting at her like he’s scrutinizing something, which is uncalled for, in Violet’s opinion. Maybe she isn’t dressed to impress just yet, but the only thing she’d been planning on impressing was her planner, and it didn’t have eyes, so her combo of old sweatpants she’d cut into shorts and a gigantic tie-dye t-shirt with her school’s name on it had been perfectly appropriate. 

“You just open the door all the way, without knowing who’s outside?” the man demands. He stares at her as does it, unflinching and unyielding. 

Violet, naturally, does both flinch and yield, because she’s entirely confused. She takes a step back, to get a better look at the man, to try and see where on earth he gets his audacity, but she comes up empty. 

“Do I know you?” she retorts, indignant. 

He matches her indignation, card for card. “Do you not have a chain on your door?” 

“Of course I don’t have a chain on my door. This isn’t New York.”

“Do you think crime only happens in New York?” The man demands. “Do you think that none of your mother’s enemies can run a google search and find out where you are?” 

He shouldn’t have brought up her mother. He’d been so hot before he opened his mouth, but even still, he could have saved the whole thing and escaped with his hotness intact if he’d avoided bringing up her mother. 

“Okay,” Violet says, “This was fun. You can go now.” 

She moves to slam the front door shut, but he shoves out an arm, blocking her. 

“See?” he says. “This is why you need a door chain. You can’t keep me out. You’re not strong enough, but metal is.” 

She stares at him for a second, blinks, then decides. 

“Okay. You can leave, and also, fuck you. Who the hell do you think you are?”

He’s still holding her door open, so she cannot make him leave, unless she resorts to something petty like kicking his shins. His arm, outstretched to support the door, looks…enticing. She’ll give him that. He has an enticing arm. Assholes are, technically, allowed to have enticing arms. 

“You know who I am,” he replies. His tone betrays no humor, which is ridiculous, because there’s no way he’s serious. 

“I don’t, actually, or I wouldn't have asked,” she snaps. “Not that I care. You have one more chance to tell me, then you’re going to need to get the fuck out, or I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs, and my two male MMA fighter roommates are going to come out here and kick your ass.” 

Ridoc and Sawyer only took one MMA class as a bonding experience, but Violet knows they’ll at the very least get this man out of the doorway. 

The man studies her with that same analytical look he’d donned when she first opened the door. He looks her up and down, then comes to his conclusion. 

“She didn’t tell you.” 

“Who,” Violet seethes, “is she?”

“Your mother, “ he says, though he’s speaking slowly, thinking as he goes, “She didn’t tell you. She didn’t call you or anything?”

“The last time my mother called me was in the year of our lord two thousand and sixteen, and that was genuinely only because she thought I had been abducted, so no. My mother didn’t call me.”

She pushes against the door with all she has, and still, he doesn’t move. He might have over one hundred pounds on her, though, given his size and his muscle mass. She will definitely have to get creative. There’s a vase on the coffee table Rhiannon won’t miss. 

“I’m your new bodyguard,” the man says. He holds the hand that isn’t holding the door out to her, anticipating a handshake. “Xaden Riorson.” 

Violet stares at him, at his hand, and at him holding out his hand. She says, “No you’re not.” 

“I’m not Xaden Riorson, or I’m not your new bodyguard?” he asks. “Because I'm pretty sure I’m both.” 

“No,” she shakes her head furiously, emphatically. “No to both. You’re neither.” 

He sighs, shoves his hand into his pocket, and emerges with a badge. It has its own little leather case, but the badge itself is shiny and gold, with an eagle at the top and a silver star in the center. 

“Happy now?” he asks, voice dry. 

He’s not just a bodyguard. He's from the secret service. 

“I’m happy that you found your way into a costume shop, but it is that time of year,” Violet says. And she’s right. With the start of August comes a proliferation of Spirit Halloweens. One on every corner, practically. 

“It’s a real badge, Sorrengail.”

She hadn’t told him her last name, and she hates that he already knows it, that he knows her mother. It doesn’t give him any legitimacy, though. He’d said it himself—she’s really only a google search away. 

But, if he’s actually Xaden Riorson, so is he. 

“Hang on,” she says, brain already speeding down this train of thought. “Stay outside, or I will actually commit a crime.” 

She steps back from the door, and he raises his non-braced hand in surrender. He leaves his badge out, and though Violet keeps her eyes on him, he doesn’t move over her line in the sand. 

She finds her phone  abandoned on the couch. She turns it on quickly, and her eyes scan notifications, but there is, of course, nothing from Lilith. Even though it shouldn’t, her heart still sinks. She should know better than to allow hope to thrive where her mother is concerned, but evidently, she doesn’t. 

She opens Safari without checking her other notifications, and types in his supposed name. Xaden Riorson. 

The results are inconclusive. No one, it seems, knows what Xaden Riorson is up to. 

“Give me your driver’s license,” she demands. 

He sighs, irritably, but then he’s digging in his pocket once more, revealing a wallet, and presenting her with his ID. He holds it over the threshold, so she plucks it from his fingers and holds it up in the light. 

It looks real, though Violet’s never been big on fake IDs, because she’s never been big on doing anything she thinks might make her mother think she isn’t perfectly capable of caring for herself. Illegal activities fall squarely on her no-no list. 

The picture matches, though Violet’s almost certain there’s a way to make that happen with fake IDs, too. She thinks she’s supposed to see a line somewhere in the middle of the ID, if it is real, but she’s also not entirely sure that isn’t actually the procedure for counterfeit money, and the longer she holds his ID up to the light without finding said line, the less sure she is of the line’s existence at all. 

Finally, she says, “Hmm.” 

“Hmm?” he presses. 

“Well, I’m starting to think you’re Xaden Riorson, but that makes the secret service thing even less believable,” Violet says. 

“Does it?” His voice is bone-dry, but Violet doesn’t mind. She’ll get to the bottom of this without his help. 

“It does, because the Xaden Riorson I knew of was a senator’s son, and the sons of senators don’t just up and join the secret service.” 

“They don’t?” he asks, still dry as ever. 

“They don’t, because joining the secret service means you’re literally willing to die for the president.” 

“And senator’s sons can’t do that?” 

Other senator’s sons could, Violet thinks, but not Fen Riorson’s son. Fen Riorson had not been just any senator. Last election, Fen Riorson had been her mother’s main opponent, and when Americans went to the polls, they had not picked him. 

He’d died six months after the election, but not before hundreds of articles were written, claiming he wanted to share classified government intelligence with the public, things the people deserved to know, but those in office were too cowardly to tell them. 

His secrets died with him. 

And Violet knows her mother is a lot of things, but she wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t make the son of her biggest political rival her daughter’s bodyguard. Her daughter doesn’t even have a bodyguard, because her daughter does not need a bodyguard. 

“You can’t,” Violet says. “You, specifically.” 

“Well, unfortunately for you, Sorrengail, I did. What’s it gonna take for you to believe me? Want to see my work email? Want to meet my team?” 

She’s trying and failing to remember how hard it is to fake an email, or a series of emails, but he keeps talking. 

“Of course, I could just call your mom.” 

Her gaze darts to his. “You could call her?” she asks, but then, her brain catches up to her tongue. “Well, there’s AI now. You could fake her voice.”

“God, okay, you can call her and you can ask her three questions only she knows. How’s that? Do we have a deal? Because believe it or not, I have a job to do.”

She does not believe it, because if she does believe it, she is that job. She cannot be his job. 

“Fine!” Violet snaps, “Fine. I’ll call her. Don’t you dare come in.” He sighs that same exasperated sigh, and still, he doesn’t move. Violet moves to her contacts—she hadn’t lied about her mother’s radio silence. She really hasn’t talked to her mother on the phone in eight years. They also don’t text. Most of her communications are through her mother’s Chief of Staff, Colonel Aetos, who still goes by his military title. 

Still, her mother is in her phone under “birth giver” which had felt incredibly edgy when she did it at thirteen, but now makes her tilt her phone closer to herself, in case Xaden sees. 

Her mother’s personal line is secure, and though she doesn’t always carry her phone on her, she’s heard from Mira—who actually makes calls to their mother, when she’s not underwater—that their mother is good at picking up the phone. 

It rings once, and Violet bites her lip. It rings twice, and Violet’s foot begins to tap a thundering beat. 

It rings three times, and her mother’s voice sounds in her ear. 

“Violet?” Lilith asks. 

“Traditionally, “ Violet says, “people answer phone calls with ‘hello’.” 

“Traditionally, you don’t call me,” Lilith retorts. “I thought someone stole your phone.” 

“Nope. I’ve never had anything stolen from me because I am exceedingly competent.” Xaden huffs at this, which Violet cannot understand. She’s making a valid point. “And because of this exceeding competency, I can’t understand why there is a man at my door claiming to be part of the secret service. Can you comprehend this, mother?”

Violet will not be calling her mom.

“Is the man Xaden Riorson, or a member of his team?” Lilith asks. Violet thinks the world is sinking beneath her. She is slipping through the cracks. “Because if that’s the case, then yes. And he’s not claiming anything. Did he not show you his badge?” 

Violet swallows. Her throat is very, very dry. “You can get those badges anywhere.” 

“No you can’t. I have a country to run and an election to win, Violet, so if that’s all you had to say, I need to go.” 

She hasn’t spoken to her mother since her last mandatory Christmas visit. She’d spent the entirety of the summer sweating in California. And still, her mother doesn’t want to talk to her. 

“I don’t need a secret service agent, Mom,” Violet snaps. She feels suddenly sixteen again, when her mother was still her mother. 

“Correct. You don’t need one, you need four.” 

“I do not need four! I have never needed four!” 

Xaden Riorson is watching her start a screaming match with her mother, and Violet knows she should be embarrassed, but she’s too angry. She doesn’t have any energy to spare. 

“Did you hear that I was shot at recently, Violet?” 

“Of course I heard! Not from you, of course, because that would be too much to ask!” 

“Then connect the dots. You’re too intelligent to question me on this. Let Mr. Riorson do his job.” 

“He’s not Mr. Anything! He’s twenty-two!” 

“He is twenty two, which will make his work with you significantly easier on you. He’s also very good at his job. You’ll be safe. I don’t care if you’re angry with me if you’re safe.” 

“That’s ridiculous!” Violet seethes. “You’re being unreasonable! I have kept myself perfectly safe-” 

She is cut off by a beep. Her mother has hung up. Violet stares at the phone in her hand for a moment, then aggressively redials her mother’s number. 

Her mother doesn’t answer. 

Xaden Riorson is still in her doorway. 

“I didn’t quite realize it was like that between you two,” he says, casually, as if he didn’t just witness a sacred portion of Violet’s life imploding in her hands. Her privacy, destroyed. 

[yunazxxx]

heyyyy im a silence reader (always voting for your posts tho !!) I love your wooork so much, you were the first writer I followed on here, thank you for your love for the katseye girlies !!

also idk if you're taking requests rn but can i suggest a marz one where one day Lara sees Manon and Sophie make out by accident, and it makes her see Manon in a different light so she starts avoiding her bc she's scared of what she's feeling and like a week later or something Manon is sick of Lara ignoring her so she enters the bathroom while lara is taking a shower and confronts her about it (since it's the only place Lara can't escape from), Lara clumsily puts her towel on and confess ashamed but like Manon reassures her and kisses her bc she also has feelings for her and like they fuck in the bathroom right after

ps: if you don't like the prompt it's fine I'm not good at it sorry 😭 but can we pls have another hot/smut marz one, we are in a drought :((

pairing ≫ lara rajagopalan x meret manon (ft. sophie)

content warnings ≫ cheating , bathroom sex , slight angst , lara's crushing , established relationship (situationship/fwb) , getting caught , cunnilingus , slight argument but also toxicity? ,, etc maybe?

word count ≫ over 2.7k

author talks ≫ firstly would like to say merry christmas/happy holidays to those who don’t celebrate! i hope you’re all safe and doing well — now with the fic i wanna say i did go a little off plot but its still with the plot for the most part. — btw you did fine don’t worry i rlly enjoyed writing this!!

—

it was a dark snowy night in their city, tempatures dropping to about -1 degrees celcius, so much snow on the floor that even the roofs were covered on every inch, the build up of sniow was honestly surprising.

the girls of katseye gathered in their living room, it was christmas eve and although they all come from different parts of the worls and celebrate different holidays and celebrate christams differently, they managed a way to celebrate it all the same.

sophie and lara were missing, once again inside of the kitchen, making dinner for the girls. lara would peak out sometimes, looking at the brunette girl who she had been crushing on for the last seven months easy, or that's when lara really realized she liked her.

lara also knew of manon's "friend", sophie. lara never had a problem with the woman, why would she?

oh, because she's fucking manon.

lara always kept the fact it bothered her to herself, but while they were cooking and something was almost burning under lara's care, sophia had to ask her after she fixed the situation. "daniela?" sophia called out and daniela left from where she was, coming over to the pair.

"mhm?" she answered, "could you watch this stuff please? we need to talk" sophia said, pointing between her and lara, and daniela nodded. sophia grabbed lara's hand and they ran off to another room, not wanting to have that converation in front of the others.

"what's been going on? you've been so discombobulated" sophia said, her facial expressions following as she spoke, "it's just.." lara said, trailing off trying not to say what the actual problem was but sophia could easily read that girl like a book.

"its sophie" sophia said, her voice flat, but not like emotionless, lara looked at the black haired woman, "what..? no?" lara tried lying but sophia just looked at her until she admitted, "okay, yeah, sophie" lara said, she took a deep breath after saying this.

"but, why?" sophia wasn't all too confused, her and lara talked often, but this was something she never really got information on. "why are you like this over sophie? did she do something? do i need to kick her out?" sophia asked but lara shook her head "no no, its nothing. just, please?"

sophia nodded, "lets finish cooking then, i'm sure the girls are hungry" and lara smiled, "yeah" as the pair walked down the hallway, lara had to break off to grab something from her room, while she searched, she remembered that she gave it to daniela.

lara ran to the front asking daniela for it and she said it was in the room, lara wasn't paying much attention to anything around her, she just wanted to make sure she got what she needed. lara just casually opened the door like she would every other time.

but stopped dead in her tracks, she saw manon and sophie, kissing. manon's shirt was off, and sophie's pants were missing, sophie was on top of manon with her hands moving all over her body. lara quickly shut the door, her heart both racing but it also dropped.

she went to her room, holding back her tears while "looking" for something, but she really wasn't, she wanted to distract herself because megan was in the room now, "woah woah" megan said when she saw lara, "what happened?"

megan looked so worried and it made lara feel bad, "i just, got something in my eye" lara said, smiling while a tear trinkled down her cheek, "l-let me see, do you need eye drops?" megan asked, her voice starting to panick a bit.

"no no no no, i'm good megan, thank you" lara said, holding her hand to prevent the ginger girl from running away, "are you sure? it's no issue really" megan said but lara stayed content wit her answer and megan let it go.

lara and megan walked from their bedroom, to the places in the house they just were. sophia succefully distracted lara while they cooked, they were playing and laughing a lot, even making references to lara's old cooking/baking channel.

slowly the night began to turn into early morning, it was already 2am and yoonchae was dozing off, "yoonchae?" sophia said to her younger while the brown haired girl's head was resting on her lap, "mm?" she could only reply, too tired to form words.

"megan?" lara tapped her roommate, "hm?" megan looked up from the puzzle she was doing, "could you take yoonchae upstairs?" and the ginger woman nodded, taking yoonchae and guiding the young girl upstairs.

manon and sophie had been downstairs for a while now, lara rolling her eyes each time she looked over at the couple, it wasn't like she hated them but the having to act nonchalant was her only other way to cope with this.

it was almost three when sophie announced she'd be leaving, all the girl's gave sophie a hug while lara left to the kitchen, before sophie left she came up to lara, "g'night" sophie said and hugged her and lara could feel herself physically cringe at this.

"yea, goodnight" lara said, hugging sophie back, happy once she finally broke off of her. manon walked sophie to her car and they stayed out there for a bit, lara catching them sharing another kiss before sophie drove off.

something about that sight made lara feel sick to her stomach, and right when lara was about to sleep, she saw a message in the groupchat with their staff, saying they have a video to record for youtube for their fans to see.

lara shut off her phone, sighing because she couldn't stand being around manon right now but it's for the cameras.

the nex morning came, sophia calling for a house meeting to make sure everyone knows about the scheduele. normally when house meetin were called, the girls would gatherup, megan and daniela sittting together, yonchae and sophia and of course lara and manon, but lara stood beside the leader instead of sitting by manon.

this didn't really strike manon as weird behaviour, but still she took note of this, it wasn't until they were on set for the video when she saw how weird lara was acting towards her. lara was the last on set because she finished getting ready later than the rest of the girls.

lara would be so talkative with everyone but manon, she would be physical with everyone but manon when there were no cameras on them but right when she noticed that red light on the cameras she was all over manon like she would be normally.

this had been going on for so long, manon got tired of it, lara had avoided her off cameras for at least a month now but this was really fucking with her.

after they got home, lara rushed to the shower, wanting to rid herself after the hours of filimg, manon also following behind her. the brunette tip toed inside of lara's room, opening the bathroom before closing it behind her.

"megan?" lara said through the water running on her body, "could you grab my hair mask?" lara asked, and manon grabbed, but got undressed first, lara had her eyes closed while she ran water through her red hair.

manon handed the mask to her while sneaking inside, "lara.." manon said and it made the red haired woma freeze in her actions, looking at manon, "h-hey" manon stared at the redhead for a bit, "why have you been ignoring me?" manon asked but lara just sighed, "not here manon"

manon's eyebrows furrowed, "what do you mean not now?" and lara sighed again, "let me shower in peace" she answered, her voice emotionless. "manon clenched her jaw before swallowing, "fine" she got out of the shower, collecting her clothes and sitting on lara's bed until she was out.

megan was inside of the room when manon walked out, her hair was slightly wet, "hey? do you need the hair dryer, or a wtowel?" megan offered but manon shook her head, she lied down on lara's bed for a while, looking up at the cieiling before asking, "megan?"

"yeah?" the ginger aswered, "has lara been acting, strange, lately? like anything you've noticed?" and megan shook her head, "mno, not really. is she alright?" and manon nodded, "yeah, yeah she's fine, it's just been... odd?" and megan tilted her head, "what do you mean?"

"it's nothing megan, could you go for a bit? we need to talk" the redhead interrupted, and megan got up, walking out odf the room. lara was fresh out of the shower, her body still wrapped inside of the towel while her skin glistened, steam coming from her body like an arua.

manon looked at the woman, the anger but guilt was telling on her face. lara looked through her closet, fishing for clothes to put on while manon struggled to get her words together, "so, what? you can say it now." lara said while she was searching through the closet.

"why have you been avoiding me?" manon flat out said, making lara pause, "that's really a question?" lara said as she continue searching, "yes! you've been so weird to me lately, ever since that night sophie was here, you've been acting so different"

"you must assume every emotion i experience has something to do with you or that bitch" lara said camly which took manon by surprise, "what?" manon said, still trying to process the words that left the younger's mouth, "i mean, you're right. how would you feel if you walked in on your crush sleeping with someone"

lara said, shrugging her shoulders while she slipped on the clothes she found, manon closed her eyes and sighed, opening them to be met with lara's brown eyes, calmly rested while she waited for the brunettes response.

"why didn't you say something sooner?" manon asked, "do i have to say everything? spell it out for you? do you not feel the same?" lara asked, her voice raising towards the end, "of course you don't, you're with sophie" lara said, her voice as bitter as over brewed tea.

manon swallowed, "obviously, you have nothin to say" lara said and scoffed, walking away to the bathroom to finish drying her hair and styling it. manon followed her, "i do feel the same, lara" making the red haired woman scoff, "right, whatever you say"

manon walked closer to her and snaked her arms around the angered woman's waist, gently kissing her neck through the small space not covered by her hair. lara's head feel back against manon's shoulder, "this won't always work, you know that" lara said

"i know, but it will this time and that's all i need" manon softly whispered against lara's skin, making her tingle. "m-manon, we can't" lara tried pushing he off, her words weren't following her actions or thoughts, her body craved manon's touch and attention while her thoughts ran saying the most vulgar things.

manon sighed against lara's skin before backing off, "guess you're right", she tuned around and began walking away from the bathroom but lara grabbed her hand, turning the brunette around and pulling her into a kiss.

it started off so sweet and soft but overtime it grew more and more passionet, lara began pushing herself against manon's body, they broke off, "fuck i've missed this" lara sighed out before they pulled each other into another kiss.

lara shamelessly moaned into the kiss, manon's hands pulling the girls small waist closer against her body, while slowly pushing her on the bed. lara held manon's neck, pushing the kiss deeper, manon broke the kiss off and began kissing down lara's neck again.

lara threw her head back, allowing the older more access. lara's hips began moving on their own, rutting against manon's leg that was right where she needed her most. manon's hand traveled on their own down lara's body, her fingers and palms tracing lara's abdomen, making the younger one twitch.

"i need you.." lara whispered, low enough that only she heard it, making manon lift up, "what did you say baby?" and lara whined, thinking manon was messing with her, "no baby, repeat yourself" and lara said this time, much louder.

manon slid her hand past lara's sweats and past her panties, her fingers on her clit using one and slowly rubbing in a circle. lara whined pretty loudly, manon crashing her lips against the redhead. manon sped up her hands, slingher fingers down, now pushing two digits inside of lara, causing her to gasp.

manon broke off the kiss and began kissing down lara's body, the red haired woman failing to keep quiet while she allowed her older member to do whatever she wanted with her body. manon reached her other hand up, exposing lara's stomach, manon bit at the brown girl's flesh, making her hips buck.

manon pulled her hand from lara's pants, pulling them down to her thighs. manon made her way down to her thighs, gently caressing them before kissing them, making her way between and kissing lara's inner thighs.

lara’s breath hitched as manon’s lips touch her inner thigh, her body trembling in response to the pleasure coursing through her body. she lets out a soft whine, her legs automatically opening slightly wider for the brunette.

manon continued to pepper kisses down the girl’s inner thigh, getting dangerously closer to where she craved her the most.

she stopped once she was there, looking up into lara’s hooded eyes, manon’s hands slid between her legs, slipping two digits inside of her again.

her pace was slow but steady, lara’s body immediately responds to her touch, her breath coming out in ragged gasps as she begin to provide her with the friction she yearned for.

“m-manon..” lara moaned softly, her body arching as she feels the pleasure begin to build within her. manon would speed up then slow back down randomly, making lara’s mind wonder and turn into mush.

she felt the brunette’s soft lips against her skin, marking her and leaving hickeys. lara’s moans picked up the closer she got, making manon speed up. lara clenched around manon's fingers, the older girl now kissing at her clit, looking her in the eyes while she whimpered out that she was close.

manon went back up, now kissing lara, "i love you so much.." manon sighed against her lips before moving down. the redhead whimpered in manon's ear, "i love you... shit" before she came. manon's hands didn't slow down, she kept with that same pace, making lara be much louder than she should've.

manon pulled the redhead into a kiss while she felt the younger's body spasm under her, pulling her fingers out and gently carrasing her body. manon kissed down lara's body, cooing to her gently while lara tried catching her breath.

manon got up and grabbed a towel and some warm water to clean lara up, when she finished, lara pulled her down beside her. "you know, you didn't have to.." lara said, her voice low and shy, manon shrugged, "wanted to" she said and kissed lara again.

the pair sat in silence for a while before manon spoke, "lara?", "uh huh?" the redhead replied, "you know you didn't have to say it back, right?" and lara grabbed her cheek, "you're a loserrrrr you know?" lara said and manon chuckled, "no but, you didn't" and lara rolled her eyes before pulling the brunette into another kiss, this time the kiss had no lust but was more love.

the lips moved in sync against each other, and while this happened sopie was opening the door after getting word from megan that manon was in lara's room. she had knocked but neither girl heard it so she assumed they were busy doing things and didn't hear it.

when she opened the door she looked around and saw them, the bit her lip before closing the door, the girls saw her walking out but they didn't know what she saw, and they didn't know whether it was good or bad.

they weren't in the house and actually had just made it back home when sophie came over, manon and lara came from the room, lara was leaning against manon barely walking straight with her hair a mess. "oh..." the other four girls all said in usion, now they see why sophie ran out as fast she did.

[killerandhealerqueen]

I need to stop coming up with new fic ideas when I haven't even finished the ones in my fucking folders

[gyuswhore]

Statistically Speaking...

part of the svt TA collab

kim mingyu x reader

word count: 21k

contains: TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [minors DNI], angst, statistics, ur honour they're stupid for one another, descriptions of stress exhaustion and burnout, academic burden, disagreements, mingyu is smart as hell, shitting on bad professors, smut but its a surprise [gyu gets his soul sucked while he's reciting statistical models I mean what]

words of conviction from @highvern: Kim Mingyu, total asshole , 1-800-HOT N DUMB , THEYRE IN LOVE MINGYU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LOSER , sick fucking freak , i know when you wrote this you put your head in your hands , OHHHM YW GOD

synopsis: In all your years of academic endurance, you’ve never failed. A 100% success rate, despite you cutting it close at times. However, the line graph that is your life starts tanking somewhere around the time you began taking this hellsent Statistics in Psychological Research class. With a professor that wouldn’t know his ass from his head, and an overworked, overenthusiastic, and overcaptivating TA, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. However, statistically speaking,…it could.

[a/n]: this fic is set in the same universe as @highvern's wonu fic endpoint [read here!!!], some insight for wonu's pov is included here as is some of Mingyu's pov in cam's fic if you'd like to see more about what happens in the gaps!!

I want to start by thanking everyone who chose to be part of this collab fic and for being the reason cam and I were able to open up @camandemstudios in the first place. everyone's been so kind and cooperative and I still cant believe we managed to convince such amazing writers to join us on this collab journey 🥹 I love u guys

Thanking my wife camothy @highvern for brainstorming with me since day one and for betaing for me. @seokgyuu and @miabebe for also looking over the doc and reassuring me. I'm for sure forgetting someone and I'm really sorry about that, know that I appreciate you just as much 🤍

on that note, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, im HELLA nervous for some reason so plsplspls remember to reblog and send me feedback on how you liked it, I will love you forever <333

masterlist

Monday

A normal person would’ve cried. Perhaps even sued the entire institution for all it was worth. Burn down the world, if it came to it. 

But as you stare at the tiny 37/100 on your screen, you feel…nothing. 

You could’ve said you saw it coming, which you did, but something about blaming someone else for an exam you took was beginning to feel a little manipulative. 

Clicking off the student portal, you huff loudly, five in the morning too early for you to begin breaking down over a grade that was completely unreflective of what you were taught. 

Or maybe it was, because as you count one, two, three hours till your dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, you can only hope you’ll hold back from spitting in your professor’s coffee. But alas, you can only shut your laptop harder than necessary for what it costs and push the grade out of your mind.

You were tired enough to sleep for a couple more hours, and you take it as an opportunity to spite the entire course by giving just as many fucks as your professor did.  

Which was little to none. 

That was a lie—on your part anyway. Because you continue to show up, and probably will until you can put this course and all of its trauma behind you. Even now as you feel the inclining beat of your pulse sitting in the white lecture hall, you know this is all but you versus the universe. 

Dr. Cho might as well have wheeled himself into the room on a skateboard with the way he struts into the room. 

He’s wearing a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and jeans of a matching finish that do not fit him properly. There’s pins in every last colour on this earth, littering the front of his jacket with sayings that toe the silver controversial lining. There was one that said Vote for John F. Kennedy, another plain black one with I Eat Kids, and of course, the blaring Cunt written in cursive, pink sparkly letters. 

This man that’s pushing into his 60s stands before his slightly wilted class in his crocs, hands on his hips as he heaves a long breath. 

“I have to say, not the turn out I was expecting on that last report.”

He’s talking about the report you coincidentally failed, the same one you were pushed into with little to no direction and a deadline tighter than any you’ve had to bully yourself through. 

“All I can say is to read through the feedback I’ve given and try a little harder next time.” His voice is somewhere bordering comical exasperation. Feedback that consisted of sparing ‘?’’s and ‘no’’s with zero further explanation. He could say more, but you’ve learned that he simply chooses to not. 

Besides the man that drones in the front of the room, there’s another person in the other corner of the lecture hall. He’s hunched over a giant pile of papers, sifting through each and every one with a pen in his other hand. 

The TA doing a mundane task is somehow more interesting than whatever seminars of disappointment your professor was giving. He’s crossing something out on every single leaf of paper that he flicks through, and you vaguely wonder if those were today’s worksheets. 

“...and post hoc tests last week, we can start on Bayesian today. Mingyu will be handing out the tutorial papers.”

The poor TA looks like he thought he’d have more time, snapping his head up to look at the professor with an expression of pure incredulousness. He staggers for a moment before he’s flicking past the pages even faster somehow, striking out what seems like the same instruction in the giant pile of papers meant for an entire lecture hall. There’s a rustle as about a hundred laptops are being pulled out and booted up, waiting for the worksheets to land on the desks. 

You hear the familiar warble of papers being passed out and you watch as the TA pulls chunks of sheets out of the giant stack in his arms to slam down onto the front tables. 

“Pass it down, please… pass it down, please…”

There’s a voice that calls from one of the front seats, “What formula is the sheet talking about?”

Mingyu looks startled as he snaps back to look at the blaring empty whiteboard. In the midst of passing papers, you watch him sprint to the rolling whiteboards, pulling one of the giant flats of white over to the other side, the mechanism slamming into place with a louder than comfortable slam. It reveals another whiteboard underneath with the detestably long formula already written (and the one you’d have to figure out yourself).

 The professor remains with his chin in his hands behind his laptop, unphased. 

By the time you’ve registered the foreign symbols on the board, one of the tutorial papers has made it into your hands.

Sure enough, there’s a quick line across one of the steps with a thick black marker. 

Blinking hard, you attempt to pull yourself into the zone, staring at the white sheet with words that are barely stringing themselves together. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially as you lift your head to find hunched shoulders and furrowed brows all around. 

There’s one person that’s zipping back and forth, just like there always is. 

You watch as Mingyu hunches over certain laptops and whispers in rapid explanation before moving on to the next, a looming sense of dizziness that trails behind him as he shoots up the stairs to the back rows to help someone else. 

There’s a brief consideration to raise your own hand to ask for help, but one look at his disoriented gaze and the amount of hands that shoot up by the second, you guess it wasn’t going to help.

Back you go, hunched over the same wretched paper as everyone else, and praying for some divine revelation. 

Tuesday

Divine revelation did not come to you, but the good sense to make use of office hours did. 

So here you are, a printed copy of your supposedly horrid assignment and a pack of multicolour pens in your tote, and determination in your stride, you make your way to the department building. 

You’ve double, triple, quadruple checked the times to ensure you don’t dip in at the wrong moment, swiping open your phone to re-check the room number yet again. 

Standing outside the door, you knock with mustered confidence, waiting for something akin to an affirmative from the other side of the door. 

Nothing. 

You knock again.

Silence. 

You glance around the empty hall before grasping onto the cool brass handle of the door, wrenching it open just a peep. Poking your head in, you find the room…empty.

The chairs and tables that usually buzz with discussing students lay barren as you step into the room. Moving to look at the front of the room, you inhale sharply as you realise the professor’s desk has been occupied this entire time. 

Except he’s asleep.

No, that’s not the professor. 

Moving closer, you watch the way his back rises and falls ever so slowly, head resting on his arm as his hand hangs limp off the table. Whipping your head around with more attention this time, you attempt to find an explanation written on the walls. But there’s none, even in the papers that litter the table he rests his head on.

You don’t need to see his face to know it’s the TA. But as you stand in the empty room, clutching the straps of your tote, you aren’t quite sure what to do. 

Another glance around the table and you realise his laptop remains on, the screen yet to sleep. Before the obvious issue of a blatant invasion of privacy can befall you, you take a step forward to take a peek. 

It’s his schedule, a million colours blaring on the screen in a colour coded regard with barely any white spaces. It doesn’t take long to find his time slot for right now, red with importance. 

Glancing down, the man remains fast asleep, pen still in hand as it inks a faint line on the page. You look around the room for the nth time, taking constant glances back at his laptop that tells you he’s actively missing something right now. Clearing your throat, you hunch over a tad bit. 

“Um, excuse me.” He hardly moves. So you try a little louder, hunching over his sleeping form even further. “Excuse me.”

You could’ve sworn you heard a snore. 

Out of instinct, you bring a hand forward to his shoulder, shaking ever so slightly as you call for him again. “Excuse me!”

There’s a sharp inhale and he shoots up quicker than you can back away, ensuring you get an entire back’s worth of force as he bumps into you, hard.

“Wh–ow!” The noise is collective, yelps and thuds as you both back away from each other. 

“W–what’re you doing here?” he asks, hair still ruffled and eyes barely open as he stands at the table. There’s a bright yellow sticky note on his right cheek, ink scribbled on in something you can’t decipher.

“Um, it’s office—”

His eyes land on the same screen you were peering into just before and it looks like his life flashes before his eyes, widening at the sight as he slams around the table looking for something. 

“I have to go,” he announces, gripping onto an unstrapped watch as he registers the time, his other hand shoving his laptop and a few papers into a dark messenger bag. 

“Wait, isn’t it still office hours?” you call out as he whizzes past you. 

He’s swinging his bag over his shoulder and half tripping to the door as he calls out, “Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

“But—”

“It’s on the portal.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it—” he pauses as he exhales loudly, closing his eyes and bringing a hand to rub across his tired face. “I’ll double check. But it’s Wednesdays and Thursdays from now on. You can wait till I get back if you really want help.”

“How—”

A loud slam! of the door. 

“—long…” 

You’re left draped in silence yet again, the echoes of the slammed door ringing in your startled ears. It all happened too fast for you to process, blinking rapidly as you registered that you were now alone in the room. 

He said he’d be back, but left you with no indication as to when. By the looks of his god awful schedule, it looked like he had something else to attend to right after whatever it was he buggered off to right now. 

Fingers clenched into a fist, you consider your options. You could wait, sit on one of the desks and try to get some work done until he gets back. 

The universe gives you your answer as the door opens with a loud creak in the empty lecture hall. It’s another professor who looks quite startled to find an overenthusiastic student already present for class. 

She stares before craning to look at the room number outside the door, “Am I in the right room?”

“Uh, yes! I was just leaving,” you buffer out, moving to shuffle out immediately. 

You’re halfway out the door when you hear another call of an “Excuse me!”

“Are these your papers?” The professor’s full arms are up as she gestures to the still littered table. 

The No is ready on your lips. Until it isn’t. 

Later on, you’d consider how you left that room with an armful of papers that did not belong to you. How you’d ducked under the table to ensure you’d gotten everything, down to the leather strap watch with the cracked clock face. 

But as you stare at the stack of files and sheets that lay on your desk at home, you only know of the decent act that you’d committed.

And nothing of the hourglass you’d just turned over. 

Wednesday

In your Sent box are three emails sent on three separate days, all asking the same recurring question, all responding with the same recurring reply.

I wanted to confirm the days and times for office hours. I’m aware it’s on the portal but I’d like to reconfirm. 

Regards, YN

Dear YN,

Wednesdays and Thursdays. 4 to 6 PM.

Kim Mingyu, T.A. 

So there you were on a Wednesday afternoon, 3:59 PM sharp, outside the lecture hall where office hours have always been. With the same tote hung on your shoulders, with the same printed assignment and pack of multicolour pens, and a separated stack of files and folders, you wrench the door open with bated breath. 

The blended murmur of the usual hustle and bustle of the appointment reassures you first, the sight of scattered students of familiar faces reassures you second. And most of all, a conscious TA that sits at the professor’s desk, speaking to another student over a laptop screen. 

The man does nothing to acknowledge your arrival, continuing above the babble of students that occupy the chairs and the discussion. It isn’t too full, but considerably busy nonetheless despite how early you’ve swooped in. 

There’s a brief consideration whether this was in the TA’s job description at all, craning your neck to take a full sweep of the room to find a sparing glimpse of the man who should be here. The professor and his loud fashion choices are nowhere to be found. 

The sigh you let out is heavy and full of an emotion you cannot possibly begin to unpack, taking a seat on one of the unoccupied chairs to slump against. Shoulders sagging, you feel every fibre of your being screaming against your better judgement to pull out some work and to be productive while you wait. Reading over your failed assignment for the nth time, the same one that seemed to be some sick form of rage bait. 

You pull a couple things out so as to not look awkward sitting and staring into nothing on an empty desk, uncapping your pen and pulling up your sleeves like there was business to be done. Which there was, but none of which you wished to entertain. 

People watching, you realise, is a lot easier when most of the room is preoccupied with whatever it is they’re doing, too busy to notice your blank stares. 

The faces are familiar, none of which are people you’ve interacted with before but classmates nonetheless. The room is full of shaking legs, spinning pens and hunched backs, not an un-scrunched brow in sight. There’s a particular gaggle of girls somewhere around the front, their tables suggesting a work environment but between the whispers, giggles and glances to the front of the room, you assume there’s one thing in common the both of you weren’t doing. 

Speaking of the front of the room, your matched glance finds you face to face with the student at the main table in the middle of pushing himself off his seat. Your reaction is immediate, hand coming over to slam against the flat of your bag to find the lost straps, moving out of your seat as you keep your eyes on the front of the room. 

Bad luck must be a lover, because you realise quickly that somebody’s already beat you to it. Before you even noticed the first’s intentions to. The student stands beside the chair ready to keep it warm as the previous occupant leaves. 

Slamming back down on your own seat, you realise very quickly that trying to get an audience with this TA was going to be harder than you anticipated. There’s multiple other sounds of frustration around the room, and you doubt the slowly increasing pool of students was going to help anyone’s time management. 

Realising you needed to be a little more tactical if you didn’t want to sit here for the next month and half, you find an empty spot near the gaggle of girls you’d noticed before. It was right up front, just enough for you to hear when the conversation would begin to conclude at the main table. 

Once again, the TA doesn’t seem to notice any of the hustle and bustle of the room as his mouth continues to move rapidly, eyes on the question as he invests himself in his explanation. 

It was unfortunate that the only remaining seat was right next to the louder than necessary group, but you take it as a blessing anyway. It’s then that the one right next to you turns to stage-whisper to you. 

“Are you here to see him?”

You don’t expect a conversation, ears straining to eavesdrop on the other conversation in front of you to find your cue. You snap to look at her in surprise. “Pardon?” 

“Are you here to see him? Mingyu?”

“Uh—” Wasn’t everybody? “Yeah, I had a couple things I wanted to clear out.”

The revelation makes her shoulders drop as she lets out a loud sigh, “God, I can never get anything this professor says. I've been here nearly every week trying to figure it all out.”

“Yeah he’s a bit…unorthodox.”

“He’s unorthodox too.” She looks over to the main table towards the TA, chin in her hands as she gazes. “A face like that is rare.”

It wasn’t that she was wrong, it didn’t take more than a glance to convince yourself that Mingyu was possibly one of the more attractive people you’d meet in your lifetime. But the appeal lasted for all of five minutes for you, flitting away when you noticed that he dragged along a very…overwrought… suggestion wherever he went. 

It was clear he was stressed seemingly all year round, nearly just as relaxed as your professor seemed to be. 

But Mingyu was attractive. And you realise how much of a fool you’d sound if you admitted to anything other than such. 

“It is. His willpower’s somehow even rarer,” you add. “Don’t know how he does it.”

“God, tell me about it. Forget getting his number, trying to have more than a three sentence exchange with him without some statistical nonsense involved is near impossible.” Her face has fallen, a tight little frown on her face as she irritates herself with some other memory. 

Taking a glance down at her notes, you find the printed sheet littered with glitter gel pen ink lining the edges, doodles of stars and hearts and small anime characters next to p values and z scores. 

There’s a distinct sound of a chair screeching, and it’s like a large GAME OVER sign is hanging above your head. 

You jerk in your seat, like you could jump over the table and land in the emptying seat with some god-given stroke of luck, like the person already standing next to the chair wouldn’t hold a lifelong grudge against the insane girl with an unnatural acclimation to statistics. 

Although, nothing was more unnatural than the way this TA seemed to know more than the professor. Or you were just really behind. 

Alas, you don’t tumble over the table or kick back your chair, merely making a forceful motion in your seat, palms itching terribly as you watch the girl with her open laptop balanced in her arms move to take a seat. 

You were preoccupied, hence you do not notice that the TA has also noticed you. 

Suddenly, the girl looks startled as she’s told to wait. 

“She’s been waiting nearly a week, I really hope you don’t mind,” you hear him say, voice strained as you turn to look at him. His hands are outstretched to motion towards you a few feet across from him. 

For whatever reason, you had no thought that he might’ve remembered you. Something about his half asleep state when he’d spoken to you, perhaps he might’ve thought he dreamt it. Or he’d just forgotten it altogether. 

The girl glances at you, and her shoulders sag a little as she nods in formality. 

“Thank you.”

It comes out of both of you, snapping to look at each other hardly a moment as you go back to smiling at the retreating student. 

“You can come right after her,” he reassures, his own upturned mouth tired and fading. 

Never have you felt more awkward trying to come around the elongated student tables. 

You pause at first, staring at the table in front of you like it was worth trying to climb over or even crawl under it to get to the desk. Another moment of eye contact as he stares at your unmoving form with a blank look, and the heat pools your skin. 

Staggering for a moment, you end up moving past your chair and walking the way round anyway, the screeching of the chairs only nurturing the existing budding humiliation for no apparent reason. 

It only gets worse when you sit across from him finally, backside barely touching the plastic before realising you’d forgotten your bag in your seat. 

Mid smile in a timid greeting when you make a sound resembling something of an “Oh!” as you spring back up immediately. It’s easier to reach for your bag over the table you were sitting on, reaching across to grab it off your vacated seat. 

The girl you were sitting next to just before makes a motion like she’s trying to help and you have to remind yourself to smile at her as you retreat. 

Mingyu has the very beginnings of an amused expression on his face once you’ve finally made yourself comfortable across from him, clearing your throat just for something to do. 

“Right. How can I help you?”

Pulling out your printed assignment, you bring out the sheets of stapled paper to the centre of the table, writing facing him. 

One look at the sparse format of the cover page, he blows a full mouth of air at the sight of recognition. Without you having to say a thing, he flicks to the very last page, finding the rubric printed on a separate page. 

“It’s a 37,” you inform him like he couldn’t see the bold 37/100 in the bottom Total cell. 

“Do you think you deserved a better grade?” he asks. It would have sounded direct, an accusation even. But he asks with an intonation of genuinity, like he actually wanted to know. 

It stumps you regardless.

“Well…I know I can do better, at least,” you decide to answer. 

“You’re here, which means you’re at least willing to try. That’s a start,” he murmurs. His eyes are laser focused on the sheet beneath him, holding it open as his eyes move faster across the page than you can keep up with. Somehow talking to you while taking in the words on the paper.

“I remember marking this,” he says, looking up to address you. “Your concepts are nearly there, but your structure and presentation was off.”

“You marked them?”

He raises his brow, “I hope that wasn’t an accusation. I need to stick to the rubric.”

“I thought the professor marked the lab reports.”

“He’s…supposed to.” There’s a forced reservedness in his voice. “I mark them and he puts in his comments if he has any. But I’m not sure you’d fare any better than this if it was him behind that pen either.”

Every question that floated in memorisation, from the form and structure, to the nitty gritties of the data presentation, all evaporate as you realise you’re at a loss for words. 

Even more embarrassingly, you feel tears prick the back of your eyes. You don’t have an explanation, but it’s somehow easier to feel helpless in front of the man that’s meant to help you. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“That’s alright,” he says as reassurance, though it sounds awfully rehearsed. Like he has to say it everyday. “We’ll work through it.”

He lets out a big sigh, adjusting in his chair and running a hand through his hair. The motion has you noticing the dishevelled nature of the mop on his head, un-uniformed and sticking out at certain places, yet still somehow cohesive with his look. His shoulders are straight and taut, fingers working as they fiddle and flick the pen in his hand. 

Despite it all, his shirt is ruffled and creased, unbuttoned at the first couple steps. The buttons are misaligned, one side of his collar higher on his neck than the other. It takes an effort to not reach over and fix it for him.

“Lab reports can be quite tricky if you aren’t sure what you’re doing. Did you refer to the tutorial?”

You mean the one that did nothing to help? “Yes.”

“You got those bits right, format and whatnot. But—”

“It was a lump of writing about subheadings and word counts,” you say plainly.

Mingyu lips are in a tight line. “Well, yes, but it helps—”

“I know the results are supposed to go in the results section. I don’t need a PDF to tell me that,” you cut him off. Your voice is reserved, and you hope it comes off as a point across and not a complaint. Although it was a complaint. “I want to know why the entire section was ruled off as incorrect when we were never properly taught how to write it in the first place.”

“Dr. Cho—”

“Is no help.”

“I understand—”

“He can’t even mark his own papers. I’m quite sure that’s not in your job description. It’s supposed to be him here. Not you.”

It’s silent. There was nothing in your voice that suggested you wished to pick a fight, on the contrary, quite calm and matter of fact. Mingyu’s fingernails are going white as his grip on his pen and paper grow stronger. 

“And yet, we continue to show up. Because we do what we must.” He raises his head in control, a small smile on his face, eyebrows unnaturally raised. “And, better that I’m here rather than no one at all. I can help you too.”

Help, he did. 

Mingyu had made it quite clear his time with you was limited, but by the end of the near 25 minute session, nearly every inch of your printed assignment was covered in a rainbow of notes and corrections, additional papers and post-it notes pasted on the back as you remain careful to not lose them as you slip the stack in your bag. 

You only remember when you spot the segregated file of papers in your bag.

“I almost forgot,” you say, slipping the files and tidbits out and in front of him. 

“Where did you find this?” he asks sharply, eyes widening as sees the familiar blue. 

“You left them at the desk of the lecture hall last week,” you say, before quickly adding, “There was a class right after you left. I took them off the professor’s hands before they got lost. Thought it might be important.”

“I’ve been looking all over for these,” he says as he goes through the pages and files. Random sticky tabs and highlighted regions across the pages. The leather strap watch with the broken clock face remains on top, and he picks it up. He looks up to you with wide, sparkling eyes and a smile that feels genuine. “Thank you.”

You flush for some reason, “O–of course, couldn’t just leave them there.”

Pausing, you wonder if you should make the next comment, the words tumbling out before you can make a decision. “Maybe don’t run out of rooms still half asleep.”

By the grace of God, he laughs, “No, you’re right. I should be careful.”

It isn’t till you’re pushing yourself out of your chair that he continues. “You can come in at 3:30 tomorrow.”

“Pardon?”

He’s stood up as well. “I have a free thirty minutes before office hours formally start. I can help you out a little more without the crowd.” 

Feet planted on the ground, there’s not much you can do but stare. “Um, sure. I can come in a little early.”

He nods casually, “Thanks again for the papers. And the watch.”

You smile, “No problem.”

Thursday

True to your punctual nature, you make yourself known at exactly 3:29 PM.

Mingyu is at the desk, conscious and on the phone, eyes closed as he rests his face on his fist.

“I don’t know if I can make time for that—no, I understand, sir,”

Another pause as the noise from his speakers fill his ears, his rubbing over his face a little harsher than you doubt he’s entirely comfortable with. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

His phone hits the table with a heartbreaking thud, both hands covering his face as he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. 

“Light on your feet or something? I can never tell when you come in,” he startles when he notices you. 

Sheepish smile on your face, you move to sit down. “Sorry.”

You know it’s invasive, and you also know you might be asking him to break some unknown university code of conduct, but curiosity takes charge as you ask a casual question. “Important call?”

“Uh, yeah, um, just work stuff,” he states, shaking his head swiftly like he’s trying to shake the thought out of his mind. 

There’s a pause while you're slipping your papers and laptop out of your bag, during which he seems to have decided to divulge a little more. 

“It was Dr. Cho. More stuff for me to do,” he says. “As always.” 

“Does he do anything other than show up to class?” you ask through a snort. 

“Of course he does. He cusses out every article he doesn’t agree with, is anything but objective and…the occasional relay of blatant misinformation.” 

For the record, you’d never really heard Mingyu speak at all for the months he’d been TA-ing for the semester. It was small whispers of choice words in a vague voice, the distant murmur as he exchanged with the professor too far for you to hear. 

The voice of the seemingly quiet and diligent TA was never known to you, not until yesterday as he explained statistical models and the flaws of your data presentation. 

Passionately too. Incredulous for a discipline so dry and unapproachable. 

That being said, something about the grit in his voice as he positively sneered through his teeth, badmouthing his professor—it was something you couldn’t quite believe he was capable of. 

“I’m sorry you have to put up with him.”

Once again, by whatever stone of tolerance the universe bestowed in his heart, you watch him sigh and smile, “Anything for that recommendation. And the pay too, I suppose. Besides, he’s done a lot for the area, can’t discredit him entirely.”

With your eyebrows raised, he seems to catch your expression. He pants out a laugh, and your stomach lurches as you watch it reach his eyes, teeth on display, a lurch in his chest; a true laugh. 

Raising his hands in surrender, he responds, “I’m stuck.”

There’s nothing you can do to stop the smile that reaches your own face, turning your laptop screen towards him with the JASP software display. “I am too. Help.”

Help, he does.

Monday

Mingyu ended up giving you an entire hour on that Thursday. 

The thirty minutes before office hours began soared by like they were nothing, and you were ready to take your leave the minute students began to scatter in as the clock hit a swift four. Except he kept going, another 30 minutes in deep concentration as he retaught you nearly everything from scratch. 

Perhaps his proven determination to ensure you don’t tragically fail is what prompted you to do this, standing at the till of your regular coffee shop as you ask, “Make that two, please.”

It might also be important to mention the 7:30 AM on the dial on a bright Monday morning as you walked into your slightly less dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, knowing there would only be one other person insane enough to get to the lecture hall this early. 

Something isn’t right. 

Mingyu is in a position all too familiar to you and everyone else who shares this class, hunched over something or the other in deep focus. The sun pours in through the lifted blinds, the lights of the class turned off as natural light does more than enough of the job. 

It also shows you a blaring hot pink post-it note on his face, all too familiar to a previous interaction you’ve had with him. 

He notices you before you need to announce yourself, brows separating as he recognises you in the doorway. “‘Morning!” 

“...Morning.”

“You’re early,” he comments, straightening his back with a hand behind him for support as you approach. 

“Figured we both needed this,” you hand him a tray with his cup of coffee, eyes still trained on his lower cheek with the paper stuck to it. “It’s a latte with no sugar, but I added a couple packets on the side anyway. Just in case.”

“O–oh, thank you. And you’re right I did need this.”

Now that you’re closer, the scrawled writing on the post-it note is clearer. 

To Do:

Call mom

Shoot myself

“You, um—” It’s alarmingly difficult for you to say it, despite the words being so simple. Hey! You got a lil’ something on your face.

But all you do is dumbly point to your own cheek, eyes trained on the loud piece of paper that tells more than he might like the world to know. 

There’s a loud slap of his hand on his own cheek as he crumples the paper in his hands, bringing it forward to see. “For fuck’s sake.”

“It’s okay! I wanna…shoot myself too sometimes.” 

What the fuck?

“I mean!” you correct louder than you anticipated, before covering with a laugh. “It’s okay, it happens. Good thing I caught it before someone else did.”

It’s all the more petrifying when your voice echoes across the blatantly empty lecture hall, reverberating like it was a punishment for you and your horrid lack of volume control. Meeting his eyes feels like a sin right now, so you keep them downcast and pray he doesn’t try to sabotage your education. 

“Good thing it was just you. Yeah.”

Just you.

“Anyways, I think I’m done with prepping for class. Do you wanna squeeze in twenty minutes of ANOVA?” 

“Have you seen the time?” 

“Not a morning person?”

“Nope!”

“And yet it’s 7:40 on a Monday morning and you’re absurdly early.” His brows are raised as he pulls around the professor's chair to bring it to you. 

“Do you want the coffee or not?” you ask, watching as he drags another chair for himself. 

The both of you sit away from the professors table, coffees in hand as you watch Mingyu run a hand through his hair. 

He gives you a crooked grin,“I apologise.”

“To be fair,” he continues. “I’m not much of a morning person either.”

You narrow your eyes the slightest bit as Mingyu takes a sip of his unsweetened coffee, “I’m starting to think no money’s worth this job.”

Mingyu snorts, coffee suspended in his full cheeks. He swallows with much difficulty before answering, “You’re right. Not sure why I’m still here either. I could get an offer from another professor.”

“And that isn’t happening because…?”

Elbows on his knees, Mingyu swirls his capless coffee cup, the beige liquid moving in a growing tornado. “I like Dr. Cho.”

“You—”

“I know,” he laughs loud, a deep, echoing sound that shakes in your ears. “I know. I sound like a lunatic.”

“I don’t know about lunacy, but insanity can have its reasons.”

“Another would argue that insanity was the very absence of reason.” 

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Excuse me for doing my job.”

He takes another sip of his coffee, and you ask again, “No, but really. I can’t imagine this man having too many redeeming qualities as an educator.”

Mingyu lifts his chin as he presses his lips together. “When I was in my first year, there was this other class I had where we had to write a lab report for the first time.”

“PSYCH101?”

“That’s the one. I’d never written one before, but I liked statistics enough to do a little more digging than what the assignment called for. I ended up finding one of Dr. Cho’s studies, read the entire thing, word for word. I was up all night reading nearly everything he’d published, some of ‘em before any of us were even born.” 

“Oh. So you’re a fan.”

“Everyone tells you to never meet your idols,” he snickers. “He’s done amazing things, but I guess he pays for it with his flawed personality.”

“I’m sorry it had to be you,” you half joke. 

Mingyu looks at you sheepishly, “That might also be my own fault.” 

“Don’t tell me you offered.”

“I might as well have. All my assignments referenced his work the most. I was always talking to him about upcoming research after class, and it was like he was a different person. Forget differing opinions, some of what he was saying was just…plain incorrect. He welcomed the argument though, and I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true. He was always emailing me extra resources which…I’m pretty sure he isn’t supposed to do. Only reason I did so well in his class was because I taught myself.” 

He sighs a loud sigh, straightening his back, “I guess he liked me more than I thought, because next thing I know I’m getting a call over the summer telling me I have a job.”

“Did he…have a TA when you were in his class?” 

“Four.”

“Four?!”

“Two at a time. All of ‘em quit at some point. Said they didn’t want the recommendation or the pay.”

“Would he…not give you a recommendation anyway? You said he liked you.”

Mingyu shakes his head solemnly, “He’s a tough cookie, everyone in the field knows that. If you’ve impressed him, you’ve impressed everyone.”

You take a moment to really absorb everything you’ve just learned. “That’s a sucky position you’re in.”

“Tell me about it. But it’s okay. Three—three and a half more months to go? This isn’t even the worst of it, I’m just dreading study week when I’m gonna have to handle all the crying.”

You wince as he mentions something even remotely close to exam season, still barely at a stage where you can accept you’d be alright with this class. 

“I know you’re not nearly as qualified or experienced as him, but I think you could take over his class.”

“Ever heard of barriers to entry? I’d be ruined if I wanted a career in this.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “All I’m saying is I’ve learned more from you in barely a couple hours combined than the last two months I’ve spent cursing this very lecture hall.”

If you weren’t lying to yourself, you could’ve sworn you saw a blush creep up his face, and paired with his shy laugh and hand at the back of his neck, you can’t help but bite back your own smile. 

“If I can help you then it’s worth losing myself.”

Your heart is in your fucking throat.

“I’m glad when students tell me that,” he continues, utterly oblivious to the landslide happening in your digestive tract. “Makes me feel like I’m doing something right.”

“You’re—” you swallow thickly because you sound like a toad. “You’re doing more than just something right. You’re saving us therapy and an extra semester.”

He laughs at that, and you wish he’d let you breathe. 

“Feels like I’m doing something wrong sometimes,” he huffs. “My friend’s a TA too and he’s got himself a girlfriend on top of everything else he’s got going on.” 

He goes on, “Do you know how many times I need to ask people to quit twirling their hair? To look at the page and not my face? Asking for my number, I have an email for a reason, for fuck’s sake—”

Mingyu is cut off because you’re laughing, hand to mouth as your shoulders shake through your sniggering. “W–what?”

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup. “It’s just…It sounds like you don’t know what you look like.”

“What’s wrong with how I look?” he frowns.

“Nothing!” you exclaim. “But that’s the problem isn’t it.”

Mingyu doesn’t seem to buy it, even through your coaxing as you attempt to explain to him that he is, in fact, desirable.

“Can’t possibly be enough to distract people,” he huffs in earnest, still hung up on the students he can’t get through to. 

“Majority of the class would beg to differ.”

There’s a pause as he registers what you imply. 

After a few moments, he drops his head, opening his mouth, “Would… you also—”

There’s a loud creak of the door as you hear the immediate noises of shuffling feet and chattering mouths, as low and tired as they sounded. Turning back to look at Mingyu, he’s already jumped out of his seat, wrist to face as he checks the time on the same leather strap watch you returned. 

“That’s our cue,” you breathe, pushing your chair back behind the professor’s desk as you manoeuvre around Mingyu who’s suddenly frantic. 

Of course you realise there’s people other than just the two of you in the room, heightened in seats that are designed to ensure they can absorb every detail that goes on right where you stand in the front of the room.

But you feel the soft of Mingyu’s shirt over his wrist as you give him a gentle squeeze despite it all, barely enough pressure. Half your index finger brushes the skin of his hand, just enough to register how cold your fingertips are and how warm his body is. 

“Relax,” you whisper. “You’ll be better off without all the panic.”

You don’t see his face as you brush past him and up to your seat, looking up to see him disappear somewhere in the corner hunched over another stack of papers. The next time you see Mingyu’s face is when the professor arrives and has begun his regularly scheduled tomfoolery, and realise all the age that can accumulate in the span of five minutes. 

Thursday

Midterm season is nothing you’ve ever really had to worry about. 

Something about the halfway point did make it obvious that the clock was ticking, but danger was far enough away to prevent the ultimate breakdowns reserved for the peak seasons. 

Except this class isn’t ordinary, and it’s all you’re able to worry about all semester. And as Dr. Cho in his Thrasher vest announces the date for the in class midterm, the glass once half empty, suddenly looks very half full. 

“I’m not ready.”

“You’re more ready than anyone else in class.”

“How do you know that?”

Mingyu stares at you blankly, “If I don’t know that, then who else does?”

You have tears in your eyes, which is embarrassing enough since this is the second time you’ve teared up in front of him, but also because you’re in a library following Mingyu around like a lost duck because he insists on putting the books he borrowed back onto the shelves himself after registering the return. 

“But I don’t feel like I’m ready,” you whine, turning the corner as he searches for the last spot to place his final book. 

“You’ll realise just how ready you are when all those hieroglyphs on the page start to make sense to you,” he grunts the last bit out as he reaches on his tippy toes to shove the book back up. 

Dusting his hands off, he adjusts his shirt before turning to you, “You only feel that way because I’ve been giving you harder problems to work on. You’re past the level you need to be at right now. Trust me, you’re more than prepared.”

“But—”

“Listen,” he waves to the librarian as you both leave the library, your eyes still glistening as you fiddle with your sleeves. “It’s only the midterm—”

“Only the—”

“If this goes wrong, I’m just gonna have to work you harder for the real thing. Even though I know it won’t go wrong because I said so.”

You fall into silence as he walks you towards the coffee shop across the courtyard. 

“I’m assuming…” you start. 

“Hm?” he looks over to you.

“I’m assuming you can’t hint at what’s on the paper.”

Mingyu barks out a laugh of disbelief, “You assume correct. I’m not going through hell with this job just to lose it because of a paper leak.”

“But it’s just the midterm,” you mumble, not even close to remotely audible. 

“What did you say?” Mingyu smirks. 

“Nothing,” you huff.

“You know, I’m a little offended you don’t trust me.”

“Who said I didn’t.”

“Well then, stop being such a worrywart.”

There must be something written on your face, because as you pass Mingyu standing at the door he keeps open for you, entering into the coffee shop with fallen shoulders, he seems to change his mind. 

He brings you a coffee, sits you down, and gives you something else you need. “I made the paper. Every question. And I taught you. Every concept. So I definitely know you’re gonna be fine.”

In that moment, with the large glass walls of the warm coffee shop, the afternoon sun comfortably resting on every last object of the room, you don’t see it illuminate anything other than the man before you. 

Perhaps you're being dramatic at the revelation, but you don’t take anything into account as you note Mingyu’s eyes and how they sparkle like they were gifted from the centre of a flaming volcano, brown and polished more than any jewel or stone you’d ever seen. Reaching out to touch him, you know you’d feel nothing but smooth stone, the indentations only possible by a being beyond what you could comprehend. 

He’d given you more than just reassurance, and at times, his timing makes it feel like he was sent from the heavens itself, just for you. 

You sniffle. 

His hands brush over yours as he hands you a napkin, and even more so, cover your own as he takes your freezing fingertips into his own palm, the contact burning you like hot coal. 

You know he’s real. And you don’t know why quite just yet, but that reassurance is enough to give you calm.

Monday

You were alright, but it seems that Mingyu seemed to disintegrate right after he was done reassuring you to the moon and Saturn and Jupiter and back.

It’s midterm day, and as always on every Monday morning, you enter the empty lecture hall with two warm coffees in your hand, ready for whatever shitshow you’d have to perform for today.

It seems Mingyu must defect from at least one regular string of behaviour to remain as Mingyu, who on this occasion, stands before you in a baby blue polo sweater. 

Except you only know that because you can see the unique collar, but it might also be important that his back is turned towards you. 

“Morning, champ,” he gruffs, nothing encouraging about his voice in the slightest. 

Your breath hitches when you finally see his face, eyes sunken in and face pale. His lips are chapped and peeling, eyes half closed. 

“Why’re you looking at me like that, why has everyone been looking at me like that?” he huffs in one long, rapid question. 

“Um, I mean,” you stare at his shirt that’s backwards. And inside out. “I can’t tell if that’s a choice or a mistake.”

Looking down at his front, he looks back up, “What?”

“Your collar is…not at your collar, Mingyu. And your shirt’s inside out.”

Hand at his nape, he reaches his fingers down and finds the unmistakable starched planes of his collar, eyes closing at the realisation. He’s immediately pulling his arms out of the shirt with his eyes still closed like it’d all disappear if he keeps them like that. 

“Wait!” you exclaim before he strips entirely, scrambling to put your coffees down to push him out of the room towards the restrooms. “Do you wanna strip for the CCTVs?”

You only hear him sigh as he moves out and into the hall, doors closed behind him. 

You’ve nearly forgotten about the midterm at this point, your concern now growing in a completely different direction. By the time Mingyu returns, he’s blabbing about wondering why everyone he ran into since he left home was giving him the strangest looks, and then something about you always swooping in to save him before the real bout of disaster strikes. 

It’s hard for you to listen to him when you’re more worried about him passing out, his face doing him no favours to reassure you that he wasn’t a breathing corpse. 

“Mingyu…did you sleep at all?”

“Hm?” His eyes are glazed over and unfocused. 

“Sleep? Rest?”

“Oh,” he frowns. “Not really. I had emails coming in all night.”

“And you were replying?”

“It's the midterm today,” he responds flatly, like it should’ve been enough explanation. 

You almost don’t believe him. “Doesn’t mean you stay up to answer something that should’ve been cleared out beforehand!”

“Couldn’t just leave them to fend for themselves,” he dramatises. 

“Yes, you could!” Your voice comes out louder than you expected, eyes wide as you realise what he’s doing to himself. “You barely look human and it’s only the midterm.”

“What’re you trying to say?”

“I don’t know if this job is really worth as much as you think it is.”

Mingyu’s jaw is clenched, fists tight as he releases them to grip paper weight on the desk, knuckles white. “I can’t get anywhere if I don’t—”

“Mingyu, please. This isn’t good for you.”

He says your name. Declarative, almost like a warning. “If you think this job isn’t worth it then you just don’t know.”

“Mingyu—”

“No, you don’t, because I’ve seen how good of a job I’ve been doing.”

“You have, you’ve been amazing but—”

Mingyu’s own voice is raised, a hard impenetrable floor to the words he spills. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You look like a corpse!”

And then he’s getting out of his chair with so much force it almost knocks it backwards, “Why on earth do you care so much? So what if I look like a corpse, if I‘m doing my job?” 

It might’ve been better if he knocked the chair right into you, your breath dissipating in your chest like it never existed. His face is morphed in an expression of exasperation your anxieties fear the most, every line on his face committed to irritation and anger. 

Why on earth do you care so much?

Right. Why do you? 

“Are you asking me that?”

“What?”

“Are you asking me why I care?” 

Mingyu only sighs, shoulders dropping and eyes closed. Like so many times before, you watch run a hand through his hair, except this time he yanks on the strands harder than ever before. 

His eyes are bloodshot. 

“I have to get the exam pack.”

Marching out the door in front of your own eyes, you’re left with a feeling that’s right in the back of your throat, curling and whirling into something you wish you could hack and gag out. Gripping the corner of the professor’s desk, you feel the peeling wood cut into your skin. 

There’s a draft, the delayed slam of the door has only hit its wind now, a delayed reaction. It’s like it registers in your mind as you feel strands of your hair shift, the clarity that comes with it.

Delusive. Chimeric. Cruel.

Everything you’d subjected upon yourself. A whimsical fantasy between pages of logic and numbers, a story that simply didn’t fit where the laws wouldn’t allow it. 

The null hypothesis of your most elaborate nightmares.

Monday

Your favourite commonplace box, where your mother once placed all her most prized jewels, had a finicky latch. 

It wasn’t broken, simply worn in from years of opening and closing. It took a few tries to get it shut. Simply pressing down with pressure didn’t work; you had to open it again, press down on the individual elements of the latch and then try again. 

You were never satisfied until you heard the distinct click of the latch fixing itself, the box closed and ready for you to hook your lock through.

Earlier on in your undergraduate career, you remember a professor talking about the effects of external factors on the mind, how they can sometimes cause it to ‘shut down’ when overwhelmed or stressed. 

It’s happened to you on many a occasion; like when you stayed up too late on a school night to watch a documentary about the Stanford prison experiment, or when you’d neglect food or water on busier days, or when you’d stop paying attention in class because you were too preoccupied thinking about Taco Tuesday. 

Regardless, you’d found a way to recognise when your brain would fall into some strange kahoots with daydreams, or whatever was bothering you, and learned ways to give yourself a reset. 

Pressuring and forcing the attention wouldn’t work, just like how the latch wouldn’t fit when you’d do the same with your beloved old box. So you’d take a walk, drink something cold, spray yourself with a garden hose, or even take a nap altogether. Opening yourself up, so the latch can finally click. 

On the morning of your midterm, when you’d ensured your brain was in optimal condition for the exam you knew would be one of the worse ones you’ll have to take, you were sure the only external force that could ruin your vibe was from God himself. 

Having been so preoccupied with your mind and its functions, you’d seemed to have forgotten where your heart had wandered off to. 

Somebody else might consider it a minor disagreement; an anxious squabble if you will. But your breakfast in your throat was enough reason to deem what happened that morning much more than that. At least for you. 

“Pass it on, please…pass it on, please.”

The sound of his voice is tectonic. Rattling in your head like a superior force had slammed into your skull like a padded hammer to a gong. 

You hated it. You hated everything. You hated yourself. And as the midterm paper reaches you with your pen in your clawed fingers, the first three questions already making perfect sense, you realise you hated Kim Mingyu the most. 

That was a lie. You were lying to yourself, yet again. 

Because it was quite the opposite. You couldn’t hate him. 

As you drift past every question of conditional experiments and screenshots of data and tables on a software, you hardly remember what you circle and what you don’t. Hardly remember what words you picked for the short answers and labels. You hardly remember taking the steps down from your seat to the front of the room, where the professor sat scrolling through his Skateboarders [!MEN ONLY!] facebook group, placing your paper down and leaving the classroom. 

Throughout your years of living, you’d learned what you needed to get your brain out of its clouded muffle, to refocus when you needed it. 

Everything. You tried everything. 

But on that day, when it mattered most, your latch never clicked.

It’s Wednesday. 

You order lunch from the Italian place a few streets down. Ravioli; it’s safe and you know you’ll like it. 

Savouring it is easy in front of another true crime show. You pull a lone soft drink from your fridge, one that your friend left weeks ago. It tastes just as bad as the last time you tasted it from someone else’s cup, but you drink it anyway, the empty can now in your trash. 

It’s 3:30 PM, and you sit at your desk. It’s strange. It feels like you’re missing something, which in ways, you are. But as you pull your laptop from your nightstand instead of out of your bag, you slow your movements. 

The papers are the same. But you read them anyway. 

Parameter estimation: Make inferences on characteristics of the population, including distributions of the variables and the effect of one variable over another. 

It’s accursed the way the universe won’t let you live. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, estimation cannot be perfect. 

Estimation cannot be perfect. 

[_]

It’s Thursday

Class. Eat. Drink. Work.

Hypothesis testing: Determine whether null hypothesis is rejected or not after data observation. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, no null hypothesis in bayesian approach!!

[_]

It’s Friday

Eat. Drink. Work.

Latent means to have meaning but is yet to be manifested. The greek letters are placeholder values for values yet unknown. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue; values that you will find out

[_]

It’s Saturday

Eat. Drink. Work.

P(A|B) = [P(B|A)P(A)

              ——————

                     P(B)

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

 it gets less complicated

 promise :/ 

[_]

It’s Sunday.

Eat. Drink. Work.

The page is blurry. Your eyes hurt. 

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

you’ve got this!!! < 3

You give up.

It’s Monday.

8:14 AM. 

You barely glance at the front of the room; swift turn to the left and right up the steps. Dr. Cho’s outfit almost goes unnoticed by you, tamer than most. Bright Barbie pink with large polka dots, untucked into too tight white jeans. His crocs are sparkly, at least that’s what the twinkle from up here looks like. 

He’s insulting another author, the man’s ProQuest journal article open for the world to see like a mediaeval scandal. 

There’s another person next to the whiteboards, back to the wall, hands clasped in front of him. His hair is messy, shooting lasers into the carpet as he rocks the slightest bit, listening to the professor rip this author to shreds. 

An hour later, you’re staring into the JASP software like it was written in a different language. 

Glancing next to you, the boy in the spongebob hoodie is playing sharkboy and lavagirl by himself. On your other side, the girl has the same thing as you open on her laptop, her pen occupied with drawing about a hundred tiny gojos on a bright pink sticky note. 

Bright pink sticky note. 

You snap your gaze back to your screen quickly after that. 

9:58 AM. You start packing up, shoving everything into your bag. 

Dr. Cho doesn’t even notice you slip out of the room, hardly a minute to the end of the lecture.

In the hallway, you take your first real breath in two hours. 

It’s Tuesday.

You’ve come down with something, head heavy as you feel yourself burn up. Skipping class is easy when you sleep through your alarm and every phone call from a friend asking where you are. 

They drop by, armed with medicine and soup. You almost feel better. 

It’s silent after they leave, and you realise in that moment how much you hate it. 

Opening your laptop for the first time in over 24 hours, you turn on a random podcast to play in the background, needing something to fill the air before you lose it entirely. 

The screen lands right where you left on the incredulous data presentation, unsolved tutorial paper crumpled between the screen and keyboard like a wilted leaf. 

Hot, scalding tears sting your eyeballs when you realise there was nowhere to turn to.

It’s Wednesday.

After a long day of doing nothing, still sick from whatever plagued your body, you go to bed earlier than usual.

It’s Thursday. 

Walking out of class, your mind is empty. You’re still sniffling, still achey, but better than you were. The shawl wrapped around you is warm, and your hood covers the cold tips of your ears. 

This other class makes you feel better about yourself, especially when the content is digestible and so is the professor. The TA feels like a mere accessory in the room, something you’ve learned to appreciate. 

With your gaze lowered, you only see midriffs as you walk out the classroom into the busy hallway. 

It happens in an instant, the flash of a clenched hand as the owner walks by in quick stride. An unmistakable leather strap watch with a broken clock face on the wrist.

You freeze like you’ve been caught. 

The hard bump of someone coming out the room behind you is welcomed, the annoyed “Hey!” knocking you back to earth before you could even exit the dimension. 

You’re off centre. But it’s fine. 

It’s Monday.

“Midterm results are out Tuesday morning. If you have any questions I’ll be sitting at office hours on Wednesday and Thursday, four to six in the evening. Or you could send me an email, either’s fine.”

Dr. Cho isn’t here. Something you only found out when the pitt sank in your stomach as Mingyu cleared his throat at the full hour. 

You want to leave, not caring about how strange it’d look if you did. Not caring about how he would definitely notice if you did. You want him to shut up, to stop talking, for anything to halt the way his voice infiltrates your entire being, talking about things you don’t understand but more familiar than anything else. 

Mingyu’s voice is hoarse, and you loathe the way you can tell the difference. 

It’s Tuesday.

Midterm Results for Statistics in Psychological Research.

—  92/100

It’s Wednesday. 

4:10 PM. It’s almost too much for you. Almost. 

The screech of the door is loud, the slam of the handle’s rebound even more so. The room doesn’t so much as glance at you at the door, the half full seats preoccupied with more important things. 

The front desk perks up immediately, eyes shooting towards the door for the nth time that day, like he was expecting someone that never seemed to show up. 

It’s ironic, you think, how Mingyu never seemed to notice you walk into the room for the many months you’ve walked in just for him. And now, as you walk in fists clenched and jaw set, eyes wild and burning, he’s breaking away from a student to look at the door before you even come into view. 

“Did you feel bad?” you spit.

“What?” he whispers. He seems to come around, glancing back before continuing, “Can we talk? Please.”

“Answer the question, Mingyu,” you snap. You don’t care there’s a confused student sitting right across from the both of you, his slot interrupted by your barge. “Did you feel so bad you had to give me something I didn’t earn?”

He’s stood up now, half confused. “Is this about the midterm—”

“I did not get a ninety two, I know I didn’t,” you grit. “Whatever happened before that stupid paper made sure I wouldn’t.”

Mingyu says your name and the sound makes you want to vomit. “What makes you think I’d do something like that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I fucked up because of you?” you announce, louder than before. 

The world disappeared, your tunnel vision pointed at Mingyu’s face that wears an expression you cannot even begin to read. The unbecoming tears in your eyes are of a type of unadulterated rage you’ve felt only a few times before. Your heart is going about a million miles a breath, everything else only triggering an added bout of infuriated tremble in the forefront of your emotions. Nothing makes sense. 

Mingyu pushes back his chair in silence, stalking over to a large cupboard in the corner of the room. He shuffles around for a minute before returning. 

There’s a packet being thrust into your fists when he reaches you. He does not meet your eyes. 

A bright red 92/100 marks the front page.

“Here. It was all you, if you can’t believe me.”

It’s a careful mark, unmistakable lines and curves of the nine and the two. 

Reality is slow to sink in, but for some reason it’s only making you angrier. The paper curls under the pressure of your fingertips. You don’t open the packet. You refuse to flick through the pages. 

Because you know you’ve lost.

It’s Thursday. And it’s full of regret. 

There’s a sickness in you, from that dreaded day, something beyond what affects your body temperature and your energy. It’s in your mind, flooding the nerves that swim through every crevice and cave of your brain, a physical venom that does the opposite of kill but also the opposite of letting you live. 

There’s a feeling in you, that even if you were to open your mouth, unhinge your jaw, try to scream as loud as your throat would allow, there would be no sound. Something like a horrible dream, that you need to screw your eyes tight shut to fall out of. Except you aren’t waking up from this one. 

In a coffee shop, where Mingyu held your hand in a reassurance you now bleed for, you were sure he was real. Real like some deiform image; too good to be true. 

In your bed, dry tears on your face, midterm packet sifted through that showed you absolutely everything that you did right, thanks to him. He feels too real. Real like a cloud of obsidian that follows you everywhere, like the sad that’s been sleeping with you every night. 

If there was a way to hate someone more than a human limit, you’ve crossed it with the resentment you’ve now fostered for yourself. 

Barging into office hours like that, accusing him on a basis of nothing but your own dangerously stewed thoughts. If there was a hope of salvaged parts, you took a hammer to it in disregard; tearing it to ribbons that lay at your feet. 

It’s Friday.

At least it was. It bled into Saturday before you realised the 3:23 AM on the dial. 

Two weeks of no help and you already feel lightyears behind. The hour is getting to you, and you feel the frustration pool into tears, that turn into full fledged sobs. You’re crying over Bayesian inference and it’s somehow more pressing than any other emotion you’ve ever felt. 

Impossible numbers on your data sheets taunt you, not a single reference to if it was a button you clicked wrong or if you were playing a fool’s game altogether. 

Ding!��You pick up your phone, the weight of it is enough gravity to pull you back to earth. 

[Mingyu]: switch to bF10 

[Mingyu]: you’ve been pulling numbers from bF01

It’s immediate the way your eyes dart towards your lit screen, clicking off tables to get to the drop down menu you need. And there on the left, two tiny buttons, one clicked on bF01. 

With shaking fingers, you move your cursor to hover over the tiny bF10, anticipating. You click. It takes a moment for the numbers to change, but they do. The nominal values turn into something you can actually work with. 

Something akin to a tut leaves you, hidden in the breath of another sob. It’s stupid, unreasonable, absurd. Your fingers hover over your phone, shaking as tears drop onto the screen, faster than before. 

Do you not miss me?

Do you not want me around?

Talk to me

I miss you

Please talk to me

“I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true.”

Mingyu is a product of his personality. You can only imagine he’s helped because he saw you struggling in class, heard from someone else, or perhaps, he just knew the very thing you’d make blunders out of. 

The reasons come to you, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. Then why does it hurt? Why does it feel like the knife’s twisted a full 360, that despite the way you accused him of the thing that would strip him of everything he’s bruised himself for, he helps you. The very thing that caused this rift in the first place. 

There’s a reason for that, and it is again, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. 

It’s Saturday. 

Perhaps you relied on your olfactory senses to remain calm, because you always knew you could count on a coffee shop to forever and always smell the same. 

The universe seems to want to ruin that for you too. 

“Latte, please,” you voice. “Iced.”

“We have a one plus one for the week! Would you like to receive another latte?” The lady taking your order looks no older than 17, a pep in her voice. 

“Um, no thank you. Just one, please.”

She looks taken aback, a reasonable reaction to anyone turning down a free drink. But you couldn’t bring yourself to walk home with two cups in hand. 

You’re plucking a napkin from the pickup counter when you hear his name. 

“...that he manipulated her grade because they were hooking up.” 

“He has time to hook up?”

“I remember hearing about that! She barged in during office hours and asked why he fixed her grade or something.” 

“A ninety two? In that class? Oh, they were definitely fooling around with each other.”

“Whatever, at least we know he’ll entertain you if he likes you enough. I’m just glad those two are over so I can swoop in.”

There’s an eruption of giggles. You press your head down further. 

“Unless he flirts in variables.”

“All is forgiven when you’re born with a face like that.” 

Another explosion of giddy laughter, through which your drink is slid across the counter towards you, like it was waiting for you to hear the damning evidence before you could leave. You grab it anyway, grip tighter than usual. 

Turning around, your eyes search, finding a group of people that sit in smiles and in various states of trust-falls. 

There she is, the girl you sat with on the first day you attended office hours, the one with the glitter gel pen doodles on her notes and her blatant fawns over the TA you slipped under just as easily. 

She locks eyes with you and her face falls, eyes widening the slightest bit in recognition. 

Pressing your lips into a smile, you hope it doesn’t look as menacing as you feel. You don’t wait for a response before you walk out the large glass doors.

It’s Sunday.

It seems every sip of water you’ve taken during the week has been used up in all the tears you’ve seemed to be shedding. By the bucketload.

Alas, even blurry and puffy eyed, you pour over statistical formulas anyway, running on no energy and all antagonism. It’s another tutorial sheet left incomplete, a single question taking a pour that lasts in at least an hour of struggle. 

Reading the same question for the nth time, your palms press into your temples as you stare lasers into the paper, like the revelation would come to you if you stared it down hard enough. It doesn’t make sense, the commands you’ve toggled on and off identical to the instructions on the page. 

Hence the question begs why the data was coming out like someone pressed the ultimate on a number generator. 

With a heat of unreasonable embarrassment, you find yourself checking your selection in one of the drop down menus, switching to bF01 and back just to see the difference. It does nothing to help, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved it wasn’t that particular snag. 

The library is as silent as it could possibly be on a Sunday morning, near empty as you occupy the mostly vacant seats. The librarian is having her own day off, as you could swear she’s playing computer games behind the counter instead of actual work. 

The only noise in the room is your own breathing, and that seems to be enough to mess with your concentration. You’re going cross eyed staring at the page for so long, the words doubling and  disappearing before going back to normal. 

Bayesian inference…z scores…null hypothesis…

Wait. 

It’s like you can see it in front of your eyes right now, the scribble of someone else’s dark blue on your notes.

no null hypothesis in bayesian approach

Bayesian approaches don’t use null hypotheses. And z scores are in…

“Oh my god, this is a t test,” you whisper to yourself in disbelief. Immediately, you’re scrambling to shake your laptop out of its sleep, switching over to a t test to redo everything, following the instructions on the same data set. 

And there it was…a clear 0.067 under the p value. 

In a moment of questioning, you laugh out a breathy sound, the absurdity of it all becoming too real. T tests were the first thing you learned, the foundation to all your statistical knowledge. Coming so far, and it took you days to realise the instructions under a Bayesian approach were for a different realm entirely. 

It was stupid of you. But in this difficult aftermath you can’t help but feel victorious. Laughing to yourself quietly in this empty library. 

When the initial adrenaline fades and you’ve double, triple checked to ensure you were right, you can only stare at the tiny mail button in your shortcuts on the screen. It was clearly an error, one that was given out to nearly a hundred students. 

The first step was clicking, your inbox coming to life as you drift towards the big blue button with the readily available NEW MAIL. So you click. 

There’s an attached file in the email you draft. 

The tutorial paper has titled t test instructions as a Bayesian approach. Just wanted to point it out and ask if I could receive a corrected version. 

Regards, YN

It’s almost like you’re trying to remember how it feels like when you type an experimental m in the To bar. His name pops up immediately, email address typed out in full, full name clear on top as a regular contact. 

You don’t need a suggestion to remember, his email came easier to you than your own. 

But you don’t email him, backspacing till it’s empty once again. 

Dr. Cho’s email sits in that place instead, a first for you. 

SEND.

You don’t expect him to reply on a Sunday, in fact, you aren’t sure if he’s going to respond at all. You’ve already shut your laptop, half out of your seat in an attempt to pack up. You’re forced to consider. 

Would it be terrible to go back and cc him as well? 

A spiteful part of you might find joy in correcting him for a change. The rational part of you wants to actually finish the tutorial before tomorrow’s class when you’d have to tackle another beast for the rest of the week. 

Sitting back down, you move without thinking. Your mind is still cooking up possibilities as you swing your screen open once again, still weighing as you click back into your inbox. 

There’s a new email in your sent box after you’re done, a copy of the one you sent your professor, the same attachment and the same question; word for word. The only difference, a more familiar name in the address bar. 

Before you can chicken out, you slam your laptop shut for the actual last time, shoving everything into your bag before the speeding thoughts can infiltrate your mind's barrier. You’re out the door before you know it, ready to be done with this. 

You’re afraid if you put a hand to your stomach it’d be met with kicks and punches, especially with the way you feel the aggressive cartwheels slashing away at your insides. The butterflies are making it to the end of your food pipe, and you briefly wonder if you need to break into a sprint to make it to a safe throwing up zone. Your entire being jolts as you feel a buzz in your hands, a loud click that signifies a new email in your inbox. 

Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, you stop. 

The grip you have on your phone is unyielding, your fingers beginning to hurt from the pressure. There’s no way to tell if you’re shaking or not, but you bring your phone to your face anyway. The screen flips on, a lone notification on the screen. 

RE: Tutorial Error from Kim Mingyu

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since you sent that email, the library still in sight from where you stand. At the same time, it’s almost funny you expected any different from him. 

The kicks and punches in your stomach halt, the cartwheels have calmed, the butterflies have fallen asleep. The grip on your phone has loosened, and it’s like every nerve in your body went from on fire to serenity in a whiplash inducing shift. 

Clicking on the notification, the email opens. 

Noted. I have another tutorial sheet for you if you want it. I’ll be in the room where office hours are held for the rest of the morning.

Kim Mingyu, T.A.

There was no way he didn’t have a softcopy he could send you in less than a minute, and you’re sure he knew you’d realise that too. You should scoff, be upset, roll your eyes. 

But instead, you find your feet making a 180, turning around to go right back to where you came from. You walk, eyes still half trained on the email, reading and rereading as you walk back onto campus, towards the building you’d once considered a second home. 

You walk, and walk and walk, in through the doors, up the stairs and then another set of them, you take a left and look up. The hallway is empty, the door on the right coming into view as you slow your steps significantly. 

Closer and closer, you realise the light surrounding it is brighter than usual. The door is open, and you can see the empty rows of tables and chairs, set neatly against one another. It’s strange, you’ve never seen it wide open before. 

Walking even closer, you can see the beginnings of the professor’s desk come into view, and it only takes you one more step forward. 

Standing in the doorway now, you find yourself in the direct path of the sun that pours in through the open windows. It’s warm, but just enough to combat the cooling weather. 

The desk up front is occupied, as it always is. 

Mingyu is only in a t-shirt and trousers, glasses perched on his nose as he scrawls away on the paper in front of him. His laptop is turned on, screen facing the door where you stand, his inbox open and available even on the weekend. 

It wasn’t that you were waiting for him to notice, but you found yourself inadvertently taking your time looking at him. Every other situation, you’d done your absolute best to avoid your eyes grazing over him at all costs, hardly drifting over his form before flitting away. You never did it on purpose, but it was more like you were unconsciously protecting yourself.

 Like looking at him would only make the ache in your heart worse.

If that was the case, you would’ve been right. There’s a tug in your chest, and in that moment, it all comes flooding in like a gate destroyed. 

Mingyu looks up and sees you in the doorway, standing immobile. He sets his pen down, taking his glasses off. There’s the smallest hint of a smile on his face as he greets you, “‘Morning.”

You take it as your cue to move forward, stepping foot into the patch of sun slowly. “‘Morning.”

You reach the desk, standing in front of him, the only thing blocking you being the littered table with files, papers and stationary; the trench between you both. 

It’s so silent it tears at your insides, gripping the strap of your bag to have something to do. 

“I, uh, double checked when I saw the email. You were right, nobody noticed in class either.” There’s an airiness in his voice, like he might be struggling just as much as you are right now. 

He clears his throat when you don’t respond, looking back down at his workspace like he was looking for something. He finds a paper from some stack, handing it over to you. 

“Thanks,” you hoarse. It’s the same tutorial you had, except the instructions had been crossed out, replaced by a list of handwritten instructions instead, detailed in their annotation. You recognise it, because of course you’d recognise his handwriting. 

“I didn’t have time to print one out right now. I’ll probably send a corrected copy to everyone tonight,” he explains. 

“That’s alright.” You look up, lips pressed together, eyebrows forced into a regular position on your face. Nodding, you thank him once again. “Thanks again. I’ll…get going.” 

Every fibre in your body screams at you to turn back around, hollering profanities at your inability to deal with this. You’re already halfway to the door though, and your pride’s already deemed it too late. 

Please stop me, please stop me, please stop me, please just say something and stop me—

There it is. Your name, from his mouth, in his beautiful voice. 

Turning back around is the easiest thing you’ve ever done. 

Mingyu has stood up from his seat, out from behind the desk. He looks like he wasn’t expecting you to turn back. “Can we talk?” 

And then he’s pulling out the chair he was sitting on, presenting it like a piece offering. If you heard correctly, you could’ve sworn you heard his voice break the slightest bit when he pressed, “Please?”

So there you were, in a position all too familiar as you sit across from the man that’s haunted you for the past weeks, trying to keep your chest from falling in. 

“I guess I should start with an apology,” he’s fidgeting with his own fingers. “I don’t need to give you excuses about stress or exhaustion because…”

He closes his eyes, trying to find the words. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you. You were only trying to help and I was too preoccupied with myself to notice. I’m sorry I spoke to you like that when you didn’t deserve it.�� 

For about the millionth time, you realise you’re tearing up again. He continues. “And then…right before the midterm too. You were right, I did feel horrible. But I swear that grade was all you, I didn’t touch those numbers.”

He really didn’t, because the papers he had thrust into your hands on that fateful day in this very room proved that you earned that mark. You wince regardless.

“I thought I could apologise before the exam started but I couldn’t find you, and then you were gone right after. I didn’t text or call because I was sure I’d fucked it all up.” 

“I’m sorry too. For barging in in front of everyone and basically accusing you. I wasn’t thinking straight.” You look up from your lap, wet lashes and all. “I really hope you didn’t get into any trouble.” 

“I–no, I didn’t.”

“Are you sure? Because—”

“I promise I didn’t.” He locked eyes with you when he said that, hoping you’d believe him. You nod slowly. 

“It wasn’t even that bad, what you said,” you sniffled. 

He scoffs at that, “I’d beg to differ.”

“I would’ve gotten over it,” you continue, bracing yourself to admit to something you’ve had trouble admitting to yourself. “I should’ve gotten over it. I don’t know why it hurt so much, why watching you walk out felt so horrible. But I haven’t been acting like normal ever since, and I’m sorry for stretching this whole fiasco out into something that didn’t need to turn into…this!”

“You were hurt because I hurt you.”

“People have said worse things to me. And you were practically a zombie, I should’ve just left it for another time. It was a little bit my fault too. But…yeah.”

There’s a silence as you try to remind yourself to breathe. You speak up again. “I just want us to go back to normal. I’ve missed you. Alot.”

“Me too. The go back to normal bit. And the…missed you bit.”

Mingyu’s half smiling when you look up, biting your lip hard as you try to keep a smile of your own at bay. “I’d thought if I gave up and admitted I was struggling that day, that’d be admitting defeat. That you’d think I…couldn’t do it.” 

Why on earth do you care so much? It rings in your ears. 

You sound light when you say it though, knowing now it wasn’t what he meant.“Since when are we on caring terms?” 

Mingyu cringes. "We are. I am, at least, if you aren't anymore, which is fine. I care about you. A lot."

It’s hard to not let out a laugh. He looks half constipated as he tries to navigate his words. 

“Oh well I’d hope you’d care, since you’re my TA and all.”

“Not in a TA way.”

“Tutor way.”

“Um.”

“Friend way? A human way?” 

“No.”

You both know you’re being obtuse on purpose, and you aren’t sure why. Maybe you just like to watch him squirm. 

“You know what?” he rasps. 

“What?”

Your answer comes in the form of Mingyu lurching to grab the legs of your chair, pulling the wheels to crash into him where he sits. You’re not expecting it, the clashing legs causing you to swerve forward, hands on Mingyu’s lap. 

And then his hand is on the back of your neck, and his lips placed on your own. 

You’re stiff as a board, brain computing the fact that Mingyu is kissing you in a classroom. 

It’s short, hardly a few moments before he pulls away. “Does that clear things up?”

There’s nothing you can do but blink at him, the reality of it all settles in. “Hm.”

He laughs at your half dazed state. It’s a purely instinctual part of you that speaks after this. “Maybe one more time. To make sure.”

Mingyu doesn’t even wait to laugh again as he wastes no time, putting his mouth on yours properly this time. There’s more of a drive in you this time, moving your mouth against his and he keeps your head close. 

The ecstasy is slow but sure to build in your stomach. Mingyu is kissing you. Mingyu is sitting with you and kissing you so good you’re already half faint. 

His mouth tastes like coffee and remnants of berry, a combination you can’t believe you could enjoy this much. Licking into his mouth, you let your tongue drag over his, like the tactile would convince you this wasn’t some too vivid fever dream. 

He pulls away for a moment, but hardly so as his lips remain pressed onto yours. 

“For the record,” he pants. “I love that you care. And I hope you’ll keep caring. Because I don’t think I can handle it if you walk away after this.”

Mouth back on his own, you decide there’s only one way to convince him you weren’t going anywhere without dragging him with you. 

MINGYU'S APARTMENT IS CLEANER than you expected. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, perhaps more mad scientist than anything else. But the most you find is a mug and plate in the sink, and a moderately crowded study desk, which is to be expected. 

Mingyu decided to abandon his work for the day to spend it with you, to which you contest that it was Sunday anyway. His response is making you change into something comfortable of his so you could laze on his couch. 

Like you would run away if he didn’t, Mingyu keeps his arms around you in a tight hold, fingers curling around your shoulders as you lay on top of him. Your head rests directly over his heart, his cheek and lips taking turns to occupy the top of your head.  

You fill him in on everything, and realise the most eventful weeks you’ve spent were actually quite uneventful in hindsight. He feels up your cheek and forehead when you tell him you got sick at one point, to which you have to reassure him it was either something going around or stress that you subjected on yourself. 

“I went to a frat party,” Mingyu mumbles into your forehead. “For Halloween.”

The information has you shifting to look up at him in bewilderment, “You went to a frat party?”

He snorts, “Dressed up for it too.”

“Oh my god,” you voice in mild horror. “Do I wanna know?” 

“Wonwoo and I matched,” he hums as he pulls out his phone, scrolling his gallery to look for pictures. “I was Mario, he was Luigi.”

“How adorable.”

He only gives you a look and shoves the phone in your face. By some grace of god they aren’t wearing moustaches, but the distinct red and green outfits are enough to give you enough recognition. 

“Thing 1 and Thing 2 were also possible contenders,” he informs. 

“That might’ve been a little better.”

“What’s wrong with Mario?” he asks sharply.

“Nothing. But I do hope you weren’t sporting an Italian accent throughout that.” 

“I was,” he pushes. “A horrible one too.”

You give him the satisfaction of an eye roll. 

“You could’ve gone as Peach. We could’ve matched.” 

“I don’t know if I’d wanna wear any available Peach costumes during Halloween time.” You crinkle your nose as you think of all the racy costumes that unearth every October. 

“Maybe in private,” he says with an insufferable smile on his face. 

Placing your hands flat on his chest, you rest your chin and look up at him. “I’m not sure I want to interrupt whatever you two have going on.” 

“Who?”

“You and Wonwoo, you’re practically married.”

Mingyu laughs out loud, and you can feel the rumble in his chest against your hands, his body moving against your own that’s stuck to him. “Not with whatever he has going on with his girl.”

“Oh right,” you frown in remembrance. “What happened to not understanding how he does it?” 

“Hm?”

“He’s a TA too. Probably just as busy as you. You said you didn’t know how he could juggle a relationship and his job at the same time.”

His eyes spark in remembrance, pausing for a moment. “I may owe him an apology.”

“Do you?”

Mingyu frowns, “Actually no I don’t. I don’t think he and his lady are doing too well right now. He’s been insufferable lately.”

“Is it because of the TA-ing?”

“I never know with those two,” he sighs.

There’s silence once again, in the midst of which Mingyu leans over to kiss you a few times, soft and lingering. Like he’s trying to familiarise himself with the shape of your mouth, the tactile feeling of kissing you. 

“Do you…know about us?” There’s hesitancy in the way you ask. But you can’t help but ask anyway.

Mingyu thinks for a moment, and it has your heart beating out of your chest. “I know that I want us to be concrete. That I wanna work around whatever life throws at us. You can decide what to call it, but I know I’m in it for the long run.”

“I’m glad you’re smarter than your husband,” you smile.

He only rolls his eyes, “He’s only good at one kind of chemistry.” 

“D’you think they’ll be okay?”

“Oh yeah,” he assures. “They’re just going through a…rough patch.”

“Like we did?”

“If you’re asking me, I’d say they’re being a little more stupid about it.”

The snort that leaves you is unanimous with his own. He continues, “They’ll be okay though.”

“I hope so. I’d like to go on double dates with my boyfriend’s husband’s girlfriend.” You start giggling in the middle of your sentence, too ridiculous even for you to voice. 

“This is getting weird,” Mingyu breathes. 

You only hum against his mouth, “Do I have to take your husband's blessing before we can move forward?”

“For fuck’s sake.” 

You’re both laughing again, a sound that comes from your stomachs, true and uncontrollable. For a moment, you can’t help but be conscious of how light you feel, how happy you feel with his scent infiltrating your nostrils, his presence known where his fingertips touch you. 

“I did the sticky note thing again too,” Mingyu says into the silence, and there’s nothing you can do to stop the fit of giggles that erupt all over again. 

“Said something worse this time,” he continues as you laugh into his chest. “Accept that you’ll die alone or some other shit like that.” 

There’s comfort in this moment. In your giggles and in your tears, in his voice and in his affection. His lips are another sanctuary you’ve found, and perhaps even another way to make your dreaded latch click. 

Nose nuzzled in his cheek, the feeling of his skin so soft against yours, fingers at his chin where a slight stubble grows, you relax in ways you cannot comprehend. 

MINGYU'S LIPS BECOME A feeling you’ve grown dangerously accustomed to. 

It isn’t that he has them on you too much, regardless of what an outsider might suggest; to you they simply aren’t on you enough. 

The following Monday went as usual, for you anyway. You weren’t avoiding Mingyu this time, and you were grateful for it. It was two hours of following him with your eyes as he darted around the room. You could hardly constitute it as not paying attention when Dr. Cho was preoccupied with explaining every reason he hates JASP over SPSS, but also ultimately, hates them both. 

You don’t even notice his loud outfit (overalls and a neon green sweater underneath), happy to watch Mingyu flit about and whisper incoherent explanations to students. 

The tutorial paper is barely looked at by you, because you know your boyfriend will be happy to help you out later at his place. 

You’re barely through the door that night when he gets a hold of you, tight grip across your waist as you’re catapulted into his arms, door slammed shut behind you. 

Bag still on your shoulders and your shoes still on, Mingyu’s slammed his mouth onto yours before you can take a proper breath. You stumble, squealing through the kiss as you realise you aren’t escaping the iron grip he’s got on your face. 

Somehow between it all, you manage to slip your bag off to let it drop to the floor of his doorway, shoes kicked off one after the other as he leads you inside, littering the way. 

“You aren’t actually paying attention in class anyway,” he breathes against your mouth before kissing you again. “So why don’t you sit in the back where you don’t distract me.”

“Who says I’m not paying attention.” You open your as your back lands on the couch, looking at him as he looms overhead. 

“You’re paying attention to me.”

“It was in my job description when I signed up for the girlfriend position.”

He’s all over you now, hands at your sides, mouth underneath your earlobes as he husks, “Was letting me take you in front of the entire class also a clause? Because if this goes on I might have to take up on that.”

If you didn’t know any better you would’ve assumed he’d been possessed, everything about his behaviour screaming the opposite of the well behaved, restrained man you’ve been accustomed to. The fact that he’s whispering directly into your ears isn’t helping either, a conspicuous shiver dragging across your spine. 

It lands with precision, right at your core. You’re too hot to tell, but there isn’t a doubt you’ve begun to pool. 

There’s a ding in the background. 

He’s suckling underneath your ear, his hands roaming in ways that would smear your reputation altogether. 

Another ding. 

He’s reached your mouth once again, groping your right breast lightly. Like he’s testing the waters.

Ding. 

Mingyu makes a noise of annoyance, the other hand trailing underneath your shirt. 

His ringtone blares throughout the room, whoever the caller was having reached wit’s end. 

“Gyu…” you whisper. 

“Ignore it,” he growls. The ringing has stopped. 

He ducks underneath to kiss at your stomach, lifting your shirt oh so slowly. He goes higher, and higher and higher, leaving a trail of kisses at the skin, taking deep breaths as he drags his mouth over your torso. 

His phone begins to ring again. 

Your head is spinning, your senses overcome. If you weren’t sure before, the air of wetness between your legs is definitely obvious now. 

He brings a hand to your centre, pushing inwards at your jean clad core. You exhale sharply yet shakily. 

The ringing stops. 

Mingyu makes a gumbled sound that you can’t quite make out, too preoccupied with the way your shirt is now up past your bra, at which Mingyu has taken to leaving open mouthed kisses to your cleavage. 

There’s a ding. 

“Mingyu, I really think—”

His phone begins to ring again. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he curses, rearing his head like an interrupted animal, wet mouthed and bleary eyed. He looks at his buzzing phone on the floor in an accusatory glare, like he wants to chuck it out the window and go right back to burrowing into your chest. 

“You should answer.” 

He looks irritated as he takes his phone in his hands, and you find a flash of Dr. Cho’s name on the screen. “It’s eleven O’clock.” 

“It might be important.”

“The last time he did this he asked where his peacock feather pen was,” he grunts as he silences his phone. 

You laugh, running a soothing hand through Mingyu’s hair, a tiny attempt to calm him down. Pulling your shirt down, you attempt to sit up. 

Mingyu makes a noise of denial, attempting to stick his face into your now clothed chest, knocking you back down, “Nooooo, I’m gonna ignore him.”

“He’s not going to leave you alone,” you sing quietly, running your nails across his scalp lightly, holding his head to your chest. You place your cheek on his head, playing with his ear. 

As if to prove your point, Mingyu’s phone begins to ring again, and he groans at the prospect. 

“Go on.”

He swipes to answer it. A loud sigh and then a tired, “Hello?”

His volume is bumped up enough for you to make out what’s being said on the other line. “Where have you been?”

“It’s nearly eleven, sir. I was in bed.”

“My flash drive won’t open up on my computer.”

You have to stifle a snort. 

“Is it…plugged in?”

“Of course it is, I’m not an idiot.”

“Is it showing up on your files?”

“Disk…is not…formatted.”

“Erm, it might be corrupted.”

“How did that happen?”

“Did you download something off the internet onto it?”

“Hardly matters, I need the attendance sheet on it!”

Your fingers are massaging Mingyu’s temples as you feel him tense on top of you. 

“Your attendance sheet is on the teacher’s portal,” Mingyu grits before adding, “sir.”

“...I have other things on there too.”

Mingyu exhales ever so quietly and you tighten your hold on him a smidge. “This sounds like something tech support could help with.”

“Why can’t you help?” he asks sharply. 

“I…I don’t know how, sir.”

There’s a noise of indignation from the other end, and you can’t help but keep from laughing. 

Mingyu sighs into the phone, this time doing nothing to hide it. “I’ll take it to tech support for you tomorrow. And I’ll send you a direct link for the attendance sheet for Monday and Tuesday’s classes.”

The line beeps shut. Mingyu brings the phone for you both to see the professor’s hung up as soon as the words left Mingyu’s mouth. 

“Wow,” you whisper into the silence, the weight of Mingyu’s head heavier on your chest. “Not even a thank you.”

“Absent father behaviour,” Mingyu grumbles as he moves his face to burrow into your shirt. 

It’s a bad joke, but you laugh anyway. 

“Will I be an asshole if I say I’m not in the mood anymore?” he murmurs. 

“Absolutely not. Everything sucked right back in the minute I heard his voice on the line.”

“Gross,” he comments, but he’s laughing too. 

“Should we call it a night?” he asks, rearing his head. 

Nodding, you rise with him. By the time you’ve reached the bedroom, you’ve already begun taking off your accessories, fiddling with your bracelet as you voice. 

“I need a shower.”

Mingyu throws you a towel and a t-shirt, which you catch and move towards the bathroom. Halfway through the door, you sneak a look at him fiddling with his belt. 

“Do you wanna come in too?” 

Mingyu looks at you peering through the door frame. You’ve never seen anyone leap across the room as quickly as in that moment. 

THE FOLLOWING DAYS WERE just as eventful as that phone call, Mingyu running around as the midterm low passed and the line creeped up towards finals season. 

Perhaps it was better that you stopped attending office hours, because the room seems to become increasingly packed as the days progressed. 

You only ever saw Mingyu in the wee hours of the night at his place, where he begged you to camp out till the end of the semester so he “doesn’t move to insanity”. It might even be better for you, going about your day as usual, without the usual added distraction of a partner.

Coming home to him was easier, where he could clear up your doubts while in ratty pyjamas and starfished across the bed, where you could find solace in Mingyu’s chest without prying eyes when the information became like filling an already stuffed junk drawer. 

It was a Friday night, you’re alone at Mingyu’s place sitting cross legged on the floor. The table in front of you is pouring over the final question of this week’s tutorial paper, everything seemingly whizzing right past the top of your head. 

Despite that, as Mingyu stumbles inside past eleven, you know you shouldn’t ask him for a thing. 

Tired was a look on Mingyu you’d gotten quite used to, so you’ve learned to not comment and simply let him fall into the couch cushions with all his weight. 

His face is parallel to yours as he closes his eyes with a light groan in greeting. Moving forward, you kiss the flutter of his eyelids softly, down to the apple of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth. 

Your fingers run through his tangled and distressed hair as he mumbles against your mouth. “Did you finish the tutorial paper?”

You huff in mild annoyance, that despite his state he still thinks about work. “Not yet. One last question and I’m done.”

He hums and waits a moment before reopening his eyes. With a loud groan he’s pushing himself off the couch, sliding off of it to sit with you on the uncomfortable floor. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

“I can figure it out myself, Gyu.”

“You would’ve been done by now if you could,” he answers. It’s annoying that he says it but he’s also right. 

Mingyu holds the paper a mere inch from his eyes, the sight almost comical if he also didn’t look an inch from passing out. 

He mumbles the question as he reads, “It’s nothing, just worded weird. Toggle this off and move this to mixed factors and you’re done.”

The toggles are done for you, and Mingyu takes the liberty crossing he question off with a pen he finds on the table. 

“Did you get everything else?” he asks in earnest. 

“Hm? I think so.” 

“Good.” And then he’s throwing his head back to rest it on the couch cushions behind him, breathing slowly. 

He’s in a navy sweater, collar of his undershirt peeking through the top. Your gaze leads up further, to the exposed area of his throat—clean, tan and naked. You realise this might not be a good time, but it’s only natural your mind cooks up other ways to translate your helplessness as you watch your boyfriend push himself to the brink. Release is never a bad idea. 

Besides, it’s a Friday night. No reason to not. 

“Gyu,” you shuffle closer. 

Lolling his head to look over at you, he answers in a small voice, “Yeah?” 

You put on the guiltiest face you can muster, complete with darting eyes and fidgeting fingers. “D’you think…d’you think you can go over post hoc tests again?”

“Post hoc?” He furrowed his eyebrows. You bite the inside of your cheek, having blurted the first plausible model you could think of to ask him. It’s an older bit of the syllabus, something you should already be well versed in. 

Not that you care what he thinks right now, he’d figure out why you were asking anyway. 

“Post hoc, um,” he rubs a hand over his face as if to jog his memory. 

Shifting forward, you plaster you front onto his side. He thinks nothing of it. 

“Analysis tool after you’ve already run the data,” he begins. 

Placing your chin on his shoulder, you let your nose nuzzle against his cheek. Trailing up, your lips find the shell of his ear. 

“Results have to be…they have to be…” He falters when your hand reaches his front, running across the expanse of his clothes stomach, nails digging ever so slightly as you reach his abdomen. You continue to place open mouthed kisses at the space of neck you can reach. 

“Hm? Has to be what?”

“Statistically significant,” he breathes when your palms reach the tops of his thighs. “To run a post hoc test.”

His trousers are less barrier inducing than regular jeans, something you’re both grateful for as you begin to palm his clothed bulge. “Results of what, baby?”

“For the love of—”

“Go on,” you whisper in his ear. “Please.”

One flick and his trousers are unbutton, pulling them aside as the zipper pulls open. You're pushing down his boxers when he answers you. “ANOVA.” 

“What’s that again?”

“You little shit.”

You move your mouth forward to kiss him.

“Analysis of variance.” 

You hum against the column of his throat at that, his half hard member in your hands. Light touches, that’s all they are, running the pads of your fingers across the pulsing length, coaxing him into full length. 

“What’s it for though? We already got our results.” Bending forward, you stick your tongue to kitten lick at his tip. Mingyu hisses, hips shifting. Your tongue swirls around the tip, pushing into the skin on the head where he’s most sensitive. 

“Ugh, fuck, for um,” he falters as you begin to suck at his head, tongue running over each hollow of your cheeks. 

“For…for…” His chest is moving up and down in quick breathes, every sound from his mouth coming from a deep rumble in his stomach. 

Letting go of his cock, you continue to pump him with your hand as you gaze up at him from your position. “For? Keep talking, baby.”

“For…To identify groups,” he grunts out. He lets out a louder moan when you place your mouth back on him, going past his tip and taking as much as you can of him into your mouth. “Identify…the differences, shit, hmph.”

He takes a loud breath before speeding through it again, “Identify which groups actually differ, oh my god.”

The bit of him that you can’t fit on your mouth is being pumped by your hands, fingers pushing into him like you were trying to indent them on the base of his cock. A glance upwards and you find his head thrown back, hands coming to tangle in your hair. His thumb caresses the side of your cheek.

“How many groups?” you ask, before diving back in. 

“Three,” he chokes out. “Three or more, oh I’m gonna cum, fuck don’t stop, holy shit.”

Both of his hands are at your head, guiding you as you suck him harder, faster, more tongue digging into his slit. You hum against his dick on purpose, making sure it’s coarse enough to get the reaction you want. 

You succeed, because immediately after you hear Mingyu rip out the loudest moan you’ve ever heard, his grip on your strands harder than ever. He cums into your mouth, hips stuttering as you place your entire weight on him to keep him in place. 

You let some of it dribble out your mouth and back over his softening dick like a hot coating, sucking him through shooting spurts of cum that land on your tongue. 

When you emerge from underneath, Mingyu looks like he got the soul sucked out of him; eyes closed, stuttered breaths raking through his entire body, a light sheen of the beginnings of sweat that glisten in the low light of the room. 

Reaching for the tissue box and water bottle on the table, you soak the napkins and bring them to clean him up. He whines when the cold tissues touch him where he’s most sensitive right now, you want to kiss him but account for the cum that is actively stuck to the walls of your mouth. 

You leave for a few minutes, much to Mingyu’s hoarse protests. He’s almost on all fours, hands on the floors as you promise to be back. By the time you’ve hauled his tired ass into bed, you’re just as ready to knock out as the half asleep man beside you. 

Mingyu’s face is plastered into your neck, arms and legs thrown over your form as he hugs you close to him. 

“I might love you,” he says into the darkness. A secret, just for you and the walls to hear. 

You hide the way your heart absolutely leaps, conceal the way your hands tighten around his form into an affectionate caress, hold your breath to prevent the inevitable hitch. 

I might love you too. 

You hide that as well. For now. 

Smiling into the skin of his temples, you sigh.

“Feel free.”

[Mingyu]: class ended early 

[Mingyu]: be there in 5 

[You]: ???

[You]: wdym ended early

[You]: kim did u end class early to come home

Your response comes in the form of the front door lock jiggling loudly. You’d stayed the night at his place, knowing you didn’t have anything to do but study by yourself. Sickly as you were, you doubt you could sit through two hours of even more statistics. 

He’d left you in bed with a kiss, needing to be extra early since Dr. Cho decided to dump the last crucial few weeks leading up to finals season entirely on his TA. As much as there was on Mingyu’s already overflowing plate now, you couldn’t deny the elated feeling of your attendance being taken care of regardless of whether you show up to class or not. 

A very real violation, but no one truly notes one skipped student in the midst of hundreds. Besides, the bag under Mingyu’s pretty eyes might be enough for anyone to have mercy and let the supposed mistake slide.

As Mingyu walks into the room, shoes flying and back dumped on the floor, he finds you still half clothed with leftover sleep in your eyes, standing in the middle of the living space like you were lost. 

He drops his things to come and drown you in his arms, loud kisses all over your face as you talk. “You’re getting too comfortable with this job.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t possibly expect me to teach a bunch of half asleep idiots when my woman is all alone at home, sickly and cold without me.”

You grumble wordlessly as you feel him check your temperature with the back of his hand. “How’s the congestion?”

“Bad,” you respond nasally. “I can’t find my Afrin.”

“It’s on the bedside table, baby.”

“No, it’s not.”

Still wrapped in his hold, Mingyu begins to take steps forward that lead towards the bed, pushing you to walk backwards.

“I’m not awake enough to navigate,” you sniff.

“I’ve got you,” he lowtones, pushing backwards slowly. 

The back of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back into the unmade sheets. You crawl back under the covers as Mingyu navigates between used tissues, water bottles and pills on the bedside table. But no sign of your nasal spray. 

You have to breathe through your mouth and you hate it, but you send a remark his way anyway. “Told you.”

Mingyu bends down and emerges with a familiar red capped bottle. He stares at you while you stare at it, choosing to simply snatch it from his presenting hands and be done with it. 

“Good thing I came back early, hm?” 

“Shut up.”

He leaps over your form to claim the spot in bed right next to you, still fully clothed as he burrows under the covers next to you.

There’s nothing flattering about the way you stick the nozzle up your nostrils and sniff hard, but the gleam in your boyfriend’s eyes might as well suggest you were trying to get him to look at you like that. 

“Are you gonna keep doing this till finals?” you ask throatily, shifting under the covers. 

“Teaching during class time is just extended office hours, I’m gonna go insane if I keep going like this. Probably just today. Or…once more if I feel it.”

“Didn’t you say you were gonna extend office hours to Fridays too?” 

Mingyu moulded himself against you, giving warmth to your shivering body even under thick blankets. 

It seems throughout the course of your relationship, your time with Mingyu is either spent laying down or in the process of doing so. Not that you mind, you’ve found that remaining horizontal was what worked best for someone like Mingyu who seemed to want to fuse with your very being whenever you were together.

“Ugh, not this week. Do not have the patience.”

“I’m proud of you,” you say, eyes closed, already on the highway to dreamland. 

“Thank you, I do think I’ve been very brave.” Even while slipping into dreamland, you find the good sense to find his nipple through his sweater and give it a hard pinch. He jerks away in a yelp, clutching his chest. 

“What’s that for?!”

You ignore him and simply run your hand over the area you just attacked. “You’ve gotten better at knowing when to slow down. I’m proud of you.”

You’re too far gone to make out what he answers you with, but with the hot breath against your already warm forehead, you decide it's more than enough for you. 

MINGYU DOES IT FOR the fourth time, but this time round he’s smart enough to not tell you. 

It’s the Friday before finals week officially begins, and you remain in your own place for once to crack down on the last bits of syllabus you want to go over, away from your extremely distracting boyfriend. 

There’s a text when you check your phone after a couple hours of hyperfocus, and you narrow your eyes at the notification. 

It’s Wonwoo’s (actual) girlfriend, and she’s sent you nothing but a picture of both of your men on Wonwoo’s living room floor, thoroughly occupied with the floored expanse of sheets, pillows and cushions. 

It’s a pillow fort.

Your boyfriend is building a pillow fort in his not-husband’s living room mere days before the final exam for the most dreaded course of the semester. All while he’s actively meant to be available for office hours.

You want to laugh. The man that stayed up multiple nights to answer stupid questions in emails, is now less than concerned about the pandemonium that is probably ensuing in the department building. It isn’t that you’re upset, because this was what you wanted from him. To learn to take a break when it was needed. But you would also prefer he’d time them a little better. 

Inevitably, you text him, but not before sending an encouraging text to your girlfriend-in-law for putting up with the both of them all by herself. 

[You]: where are you

[Mingyu]: where im meant to be?

[You]: office hours?

[Mingyu]: mhm

[You]: are u and ur husband conducting them under a pillow fort in his house

You imagine him sending Wonwoo’s girlfriend a betrayed look. Perhaps even throw a frilled throw pillow in her unassuming direction. 

[Mingyu]: DONT KILL ME

You let him suffer in your silence, clicking your phone off and leaving it somewhere you won’t be tempted to look. 

Besides, it wasn’t long before there was an incessant banging at your door that you ended up needing to get up to open. He looks so timid, the face of an innocent perpetrator that waltzes into your space. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins, following you to your desk like a lost duckling. 

“Whatever for?”

“For lying.” 

You snort as you sift through tutorial sheets, “Might wanna take that up to the poor hopeless student that thought you were their last hope.”

Mingyu’s head sinks to your shoulder where you sit at your desk. “God.”

“Him too.”

In another few moments, his arms have come around to cage you into your desk where you’re sat, hands placed on the table as he towers over the top of your head, mouth to crown. 

“Rumour has it,” he starts. 

You make a face. “Now you’ve joined in on gossip? Maybe I have steered you wrong.”

He ignores you valiantly as his mouth drops lower, down to the beginnings of the tips of your ears. You can smell him. He smells good. 

“That a textbook recitation is all it takes to get you all bothered down there.”

Lifting your head from its craned position over your papers, you stare straight ahead. Blank and unassuming. 

“Take a hike, Kim.”

“...Sorry.”

NO MATTER HOW FAKE annoyed you were at your boyfriend, you cannot possibly credit anyone else for how smooth your finals had gone. 

Not a single tear, hack or whine. Your meals were on time, your sleep schedule the healthiest it’s been for months. You even managed a movie night break in the midst of it all. A record for you. 

The very first thing you do after walking out of the exam hall, stretching and sighing, you find Mingyu waiting with nervous eyes. 

“Well?” he asks, eyes wide and lips pulled into his teeth. 

You merely grab for his hand and pull him out of the crowded hall and past a few familiar turns. 

“For the record I didn’t want some of the questions on there,” he yaps as he follows behind your stalks. “Hard ones weren’t mine. I promise I’m not a sadist.”

Then, in an un-CCTV’d corner, marked by the broken, empty vending machine, you round up on him. In seconds you’ve pulled him down to meet your lips in an eager, full kiss. 

In the moments your lips remain intact, you can feel all the horrid statistical knowledge you’d gathered over the months slip out the cracks and crevices, relieving you. 

Mingyu is careful to let you pull away first, eyes sticky to open when you do. There’s a smile on your face. “It went great.”

A strong tug against your waist and you’re suddenly pressed into Mingyu’s all too familiar hold, so everloving tight you can hardly breathe. His lips are smacking and pressing into your skin, all over your face, neck and hands. Anywhere he could possibly reach. 

There wasn’t much he could do standing in a huddled corner at nine in the morning on a Tuesday, where anyone could pass by and question what in the high school was going on. But there was more than enough Mingyu could do behind closed doors. 

In true Mingyu fashion, he’s begun to grope in every way you love the minute the lock clicks shut of his apartment, every fibre of both of your beings giddy and jumpy, giggles erupting from your tired mouths. You haven’t been touched in ages, always too tired to do anything even when you would find the time. 

It isn’t remotely strange that you're wet from only a few kisses and hot breaths against your neck. Although Mingyu’s hands haven’t been modest either, already reaching your clothed cunt as you fall into bed. 

He says it was your reward, for doing so good, his illustrious mouth suctioned onto your naked core, moving and grinding in ways you can more than just appreciate.

His tongue is nothing below made for you, like he knows exactly when to flick his tongue, graze his teeth and all but suck the daylights out of you. It’s marvellous, even more so as you realise he won’t stop. One, two, three mind blowing orgasms later, your legs still shake around his head as you cry out for him to stop. 

Not that he was going to listen, as he did not the last fifteen times you tried, simply pushing a finger into your abused hole to chuck you into yet another climax. You’re sobbing, trembling, sweating; but also half hearted in your attempts to stop him. 

By the time he’s relented, you’re sure you won’t feel a thing down there for at least a week. If Mingyu will even let you go untouched for that long. 

But as you’re finally able to catch your long lost breath in bed, and Mingyu has curled up right beside you, like he always does, you let the finality of it all sink in. You were done. And so was he. And you could now begin to experience a Mingyu that wasn’t exhausted, stressed or tired. Even now, the long indented layers of fatigue begin to melt away, revealing a less strained man. 

Mingyu was beautiful either way. 

“Are you okay?” he asks you, his fingers tracing your features. 

The pads of his fingers glide across your eyelids, down the slope of your nose, tracing the outline of your lips. You kiss his fingers as they reach you there, hand coming up to hold his wrists. You kiss the tips of his fingers, down to the palm of his hand. Eyes closed, you keep your lips there. 

“More than okay,” you mumble. 

“Good. Thought I lost you there.”

Stretching unceremoniously, you drape yourself over his naked form, head on his shoulder. “You’re not losing me. Not after being the sole reason I pass this devil’s module.”

“Is that all it takes? Make sure you don’t fail?”

“And give head like that.” It’s a half joke. “But also be Kim Mingyu comma TA.”

He mimics you between a breathy laugh, “Comma TA. Not anymore, I guess.”

“How happy are you?”

“Still have to grade the last set of papers. But I got what I wanted.”

“The recommendation? You deserve it.”

“That, and not having to be in Dr. Cho’s presence every other day. And you.”

You kiss his shoulder. “Look at you. All grown up with your big boy grad school on the horizon.”

“Not just yet.”

“You’ll get there too. If you can power through this hellsent semester, you can power through anything grad school applications throw.”

Mingyu shifts where he lays, taking a turn to lie on his side to face you. The afternoon sun peeks from behind his form, his outline made of pure gold. His breath is in your face as he talks, and there’s comfort in the air it penetrates.

“I only powered through this because of you. I hope you know that.” He’s smiling. 

“Girlfriend duties,” you quote solemnly. 

“I mean it. I knew I was walking into disaster with how this stupid job was going, all that work was just a distraction. I didn’t wanna believe this was a bad idea. And then you walked in.”

You cup his face and pout, “Oh, my damsel in distress.”

“Hm, my knight in shining armour,” he giggles. “Galloped in and saved me from myself.”

“You saved me too. From the world and its horrible creations.” 

“I’ll start talking in formulas if this keeps up.” 

You can only grumble in mild annoyance. 

“I’m glad I asked you to come in early that day,” he says.

“I’m glad I was a good samaritan and gathered all your stuff that day.” You grin.

Mingyu leans in and kisses you. It’s soft, slow, and drips of the romance he’s trying to bring into the conversation. His lips are bliss, the feeling of him is bliss. 

It’s almost scary how easily you’ve been able to give yourself to him. How quickly he’s placed himself in every nook and cranny of your heart. With his tired eyes and stronger than himself smile, the hand he extended in ways beyond you could ever explain to him. It’s terrifying when you realise what remains on the tip of your tongue, ready and bursting. 

But it’s true, and you can only pray it remains that way. Because in that moment, naked and tangled between Mingyu’s limbs, his heart in your ears, your hands on his being, you just know. 

“I think I might love you too.” 

[mrsbarnesblog]

Tattoo

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Tattoo Artist! Bucky Barnes x Bookshop Owner!Reader

Summary: When Natasha begged you to come with her to get her new tattoo done, you didn't expect that her actual plan would be to set you up with a fine-as-hell tattoo artist.

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: +18❗️smut, p in v sex, oral sex (r receiving), protected sex, dirty talk, strangers to lovers, Bucky is hot as fuck, shy and socially awkward reader, insecurities.

Author's note: sooo, it took me forever to write, but I finally finished it and I'm kind of proud of this one. Bucky with tattoos and a low bun? yup, I'm totally ready to do whatever he desires! I hope y'all will like it too. feel free to leave comments or fic ideas💘

“I’m going to be there almost for a whole day. I love those idiots, but I still need my best friend to cheer me up." Natasha threw her hand over your shoulders, trying to convince you to go with her on a tattoo session. It was not her first time, but now she wanted to get a much bigger one on her thigh, and, for some reason, she really wanted you to go with her, using the fact that it was your day off. 

“Nat, you know that I hate going to such places. I’m socially awkward; what am I gonna do there for so long? I don’t even know those people.” You frowned, already feeling a bundle of nerves in your stomach. 

You were what others may call boring, but you rarely went to unknown places or hung out with random people. You would rather stay with a book in your apartment and read for a whole day than get into such situations. Not to mention, that tattoo salon was full of men, and it made the whole situation even worse. 

“But you’re going to be with me. They are the nice guys, I promise. You will sit with us in the room; we can talk, or you can read another book, while Barnes will do my tattoo. I just don’t want to die of boredom there. Please?” She pulled you even closer, and you knew that she wouldn’t let that go. So you had no other choice but to agree. 

You didn’t know what you were thinking when you decided that wearing a light, flowy dress would be a good idea. Because now, following Nat out of her car to that tattoo studio, it felt too short, too open, and just too much. You tried to calm down, thinking to yourself that there was nothing serious; you were just going to wait in the corner, and other people probably wouldn’t even pay attention or talk to you. Natasha, with her boldness and openness, was always the center, and you were totally fine with that. 

But you were so wrong. 

As soon as you walked inside, four men stopped talking, turning around to face you and Nat, and you honestly thought that you were going to faint. 

“Hey, guys. Hope you don’t mind that I brought my friend. So I do not have to listen to your boring asses complain all day." She teased, dragging you by the hand like a mom who tried to encourage her kid to talk. You were round-eyed, and a wave of heat washed over your body when you were face-to-face with a blonde and big guy. But before either of you could say or do something, a person who you didn’t recognise at first stepped in, pulling you into a hug. 

“Isn’t it my favorite book girly ever? How are you doin’?” Sam’s enthusiasm and energy were always so refreshing to you, so when he quickly pulled away, instead wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pushing you further into a studio, you tried to stay calm and not freak out.

"I didn't know that you were working here. How’s Sarah?” You asked, looking up at him. 

“Yup, for a few years. She is doing great, but AJ and Cass are a pain in the ass. They are growing too quickly, you know." He chuckled. “Now, say hi to those idiots.” He moved his head toward the men who were silently observing your interaction. “Tony, Steve, and Bucky.” Sam named them in order. Tony just nodded to you, Steve smiled with the friendliest smile you had ever seen, and Bucky... 

Your head became empty as soon as your eyes landed on him for the first time. He was leaning on the wall at the back of the room, so you didn’t pay much attention to him at first. He was hot. Unbelievebly hot. He was tall and muscular, with a low bun at the back of his head and tattoos covering the visible parts of his arms and neck. And as your gaze moved to his face, you almost choked on a fucking breath. 

Piercing blue eyes looked right directly at you, and the slightest smirk curled the corner of his lips. You didn’t know whether you felt too cold, too hot, or if you just wanted to vanish right on the spot. Your face heated, your eyes started running around the room, and your heart was beating a few times faster. It was overwhelming, and you thought that you would have to go out of there, but right on time, Natasha stepped in front of you, dragging all attention to herself. 

Bucky had to admit that once in his life, Sam was right. Sam tried to convince Bucky to go to that book shop for a few months, saying that he had to meet with the girl who worked there, but he was way too stubborn. 

He would have done it a long time ago if he knew you would look like the most precious, cute, and sweet person. Bucky could not take his gaze away from you as soon as Natasha dragged you inside, absorbing everything—from the way you looked so soft and pretty in that dress to the way you blushed and were nervous about the whole thing. 

He saw your reaction—how you became even more flushed after your intense stares at each other. Bucky was never the type of guy who liked to tease you, but Goddammit, he wanted to see how you would react if he stepped closer and talked to you. He also wasn’t creepy towards women, but the only thought that came to his mind was that he wanted to taste you. The desire to shove your back into the wall, lift up the skirt of your dress, and fall to his knees was shocking; he had never felt such an instant pull toward another person. 

“Barnes, are we going to start, or you’re planning on standing and staring for a whole day?” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest as if she were annoyed, but you thought that you heard something weird in her voice, as if she held back a smile. 

And then she quickly looked back at Sam and nodded with a smirk. 

You just followed Nat and Bucky to his own part of the studio. Too lost in your head because of your friend’s weird behavior, you sat down on the sofa in the corner, and the next thing you noticed was the tall figure leaning above you. You probably got carried away to much because now there was a cup of tea standing in front of you on the table.

You looked up, only to meet those pretty blue eyes again. Bucky looked down at you with the same smirk on his lips, and you could barely form a normal thought in your head. 

“Hope you don’t mind a hot tea, princess?” Yup, you were dead. Of course, he had to have the sexiest voice you have ever heard in your life. It was not enough for him to be charming or look like a fucking sin—he also had to sound hot. 

“Thank you.” You almost whispered. 

Bucky gave you another mysterious smile before going back to his place, where Nat was already without her pants and ready to start.

You and Nat were talking for the next few hours—well, she was mostly talking about a girl named Maria that she met not so long ago, and you were nodding, listening, and sipping your tea. That way, you almost forgot about Bucky sitting in the room with you because he was too focused on his job and didn’t even look away from the tattoo. 

To be honest, you accidentally looked at him one or two times because it was hard not to notice a few curls slipping out of his bun, or the way his tattooed and veiny arms seemed so sexy, or that perfect face profile... Fuck. But everything was good until Nat suddenly asked him to stop for a few minutes. 

“I really need to pee, Barnes.” She quickly jumped out of her place, winking at you as she walked away. 

“Natasha…” You hissed at her when she left you and Bucky alone in the room, your insides already shivering with nerves. She was fucking doing it on purpose. You were sure that everything here was her plan to set you up with Bucky because she had never left you anywhere alone, knowing your nervousness. 

“Are you afraid to stay with me alone?” Bucky chuckled, stretching his neck from an uncomfortable position. Your cheeks heated, and you unconsciously started scratching the surface of your phone case. He was charming. He obviously knew that, judging by the way he acted to tease you. When his question was left without an answer, he just shook his head, smiling to himself. “I didn’t know that Nat was dating girls.”

Bucky was desperately trying to make you talk. He saw how you looked at your friend when she left you alone with him, and knowing Nat, she would not have done it if you were truly afraid of him. So he was hoping that you were just too shy to talk to him and that he could make something out of it.

“Mhm. What, you hoped to have a chance with her?” You finally looked up, and you couldn’t hide the disappointment in your voice. Of course, Bucky was just trying to hit on your friend. Everyone tried. And you knew that she was so pretty and an amazing person, really, but you just wanted to experience it yourself at least once.

“With Nat?” Bucky almost laughed, genuinely taken aback by your response. “Nah, she’s cool, but not my type.”

“And who is your type?” You asked before you could even think about it. 

"You know, those cute and shy girls who can barely talk to anyone and easily blush or get nervous." You froze in your place, and you swore that the blood in your veins had done the same. Your eyes widened in shock, looking at the proudly smirking Bucky. Did he really mean that, or was it just a stupid joke? 

Natasha came into the room, curiously looking between you two, but you just stayed silent and looked away again, staying even quieter until the end of the session. 

“Why did you do that?” You frowned, looking away from Nat and crossing your arms over your chest. As soon as she was done, you almost ran out of that place, the mixture of weird feelings bubbling inside of you, and you were too frustrated to even talk to someone there. 

“Did what?” Your head snapped back at her innocent, unbothered voice. She rolled her eyes, not looking away from the road. “I did that because I love you.” 

“And I love you too, but I hate that you and Sam put me in this position!”

“I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable. Don’t be mad at what I’m about to say, but I know that you feel lonely and that you want to have someone or to date someone. I understand your anxiety; I really do, but I wanted to help you.” Her voice sounded so genuine, and even if you were mad, you knew that Nat had always tried to do what was best for you. “Bucky is a good guy. He’s attractive, he’s kind, he’s funny, and he's definitely not a player. I just wanted you to meet him, and from what I saw, there was a sparkle between you.”

You didn’t say anything to that, because she was totally right. Even if you had never said that out loud, you wanted someone to like you. Was it that much to ask? It was just hard to believe that someone as attractive as Bucky, who could easily get a good handful of women whenever he wanted to, had actually flirted with you. 

The next day, when you finally returned to your favorite place in the world, it was crazy. For some reason, too many people came to the bookshop, and almost everyone needed your advice or help. You were running around the shelves, putting the books in their places, receiving the payment, and then welcoming new customers. So when, at 9 p.m., you put the sign ‘closed’ on the door, you felt the relief that the day was almost over. 

You still had a lot to do, though. Taking the pile of books from the front table, you went to the back room, where you stored some of them. Suddenly, you heard the bell ringing and heavy footsteps on the wooden floor. 

“I’m sorry, but we are already closed. Please come tomor—” You forgot what you wanted to say when you looked out of the room into the main part of the store and saw the last person you ever expected. 

“Hey, princess.” Bucky put his hands into the front pockets, which made him seem even bigger, and smiled at you in a way that made your knees weak. He looked similar to what you saw yesterday—a low bun, black jeans, and a shirt that revealed some of his tattoos. God, his tattoos made you imagine things that were too inappropriate to say out loud. “Sorry that I came so late, but I just got off work, and I really wanted to see the place Sam has been bugging me about for weeks.” He noticed how you were looking at him again, but he decided not to tease you about it. 

“Um, hi.” You dusted off your hands and fixed the bottom part of your dress to make sure that everything was in it’s place. Bucky couldn’t help but follow your hands, staring at the way the hem of your dress moved around your thighs. “Do you need something? Like a book? Or you came just to get rid of Sam?”

“Yeah, maybe a fantasy book or something like that.” 

“I can show you where we have it, but I, um, need to finish the work here, so it would be great if you'd find a book that you like by yourself. Is that okay?” His stare was intense, and you really didn’t know what to do with this. Was he always like that with women? But Nat said that he wasn’t a player, and you trusted her more than yourself.

“Totally.” You nodded, calmed down your nerves as much as you could to not embarrass yourself in front of him, and you showed the way to the shelves at the back of the shop. 

“Take as much time as you need; I’ll go... there.” You pointed behind you to the piles of books, and Bucky chuckled at the way you were nervous around him. That was so fucking cute that he wanted to just scoop you up in his arms and make you blush again and again. 

Almost ten minutes later, you showed up again with a few books in your hands that were from the fantasy section, and as much as you wanted to escape Bucky, you also wanted to finish your job. He just quickly looked at you, too interested in the book in his hands, but didn’t say anything. 

You tried to reach the highest shelf to put the book in it’s place, but it was too far away. Usually you used a small ladder, but it was somewhere else now, and you just tried to do it standing on the tiptoes. 

“Let me do it, princess.” Bucky chuckled, closing his book and putting it down, and reached out to help you.

“No!”

“You won’t reach it. Just give it to me.” He placed his hand on your back, stretching the other one. 

“I can do it myself!” 

You couldn’t. Because the next thing you know, the book slipped out of your hand when you tried to make more distance between you and Bucky, and you also lost control of the ones you held near your chest. Everything fell onto the floor with a loud ‘boom’ and you prayed that nothing got damaged. 

Your head snapped back to say to Bucky that it was his fault, but he was already looking down at you, and you immediately forgot about everything. Only then did you realize that he was so close to you; his hand was holding your waist, and your back was almost pressed against his hard chest. 

“Sorry.” He didn’t know what he was sorry for. That he distracted you and made you drop everything, or for what he did next. After his eyes quickly looked at your plump lips, his right hand fell onto your cheek, and he kissed you.

Your instant thought was to push him away, run, and hide in the storage room, but the firm hand on your face and waist made it impossible to move. Bucky almost devoured your mouth and completely controlled you, and you could barely keep up with the rhythm of the kiss. 

He was good at it. 

No one ever kissed you as if it were the best thing they'd ever tried, but Bucky just couldn’t stop. He spined your body, so you were not in that awkward and uncomfortable position anymore. Now that you were standing chest to chest, your back got pressed into the shelves, and Bucky was towering over you. It felt unknown but so right at the same time. Your experience in this area was really poor, but the adrenalin in your blood made you a little bit more sure of yourself. 

“You’re doing something to me.” He breathed into the kiss, and you just whined without realizing it. He connected your lips again, tightening his hands on your waste and, that way, pulling you even closer. You had no idea where to put your hands, but your body seemed to work on autopilot, so they landed on his chest.

You felt something hard on the lower part of your belly, and the thought that Bucky had become hard solely because of the kiss nearly drove you insane. Hot, handsome, and charming men had never kissed you as if you were their last meal, teasing you with their bulge in the middle of your shop. 

God, he must be big. 

Your heart started beating so fast that you heard it in your ears. Was it the right thing to do? What should you do or say after that? Did he think that you kissed badly? 

“I can almost hear the thoughts in your head. Why are you worrying? You don’t like or want it? Just say, and I’ll step away.” You licked your lips, as if you tried to taste him again. You felt how your face heated again from being so close to Bucky. He didn’t sound or look as if he were judging you, and it made you feel safe enough to tell what was going on in your head.

“I just—I'm not really familiar with it. I barely know you, and you just kissed me, and I am at a loss for what to do." You said, nervously playing with the material of his shirt. Bucky's hand cupped your cheek, making you look at him. It surprised you that he didn’t try to do anything to push you, like many other men who just think with their dicks. Your stomach tightened from the way he stared at your face.

"I understand and that’s okay if you feel a little bit scared. I’m not pushing you and you can say no to me. I really came here just to talk to you, but I cannot think of anything else but you. Can I kiss you, princess?” Your eyes closed when you felt his breath on your lips again. You couldn’t deny that you wanted it too, so you just slightly nodded to his question. 

Bucky kissed you deeper and slower, allowing you to follow him. He stroked your cheek gently as his tongue slid into your mouth, causing you to moan. You swore that he smiled at your reaction, and it encouraged him to push his other hand from your waist to your thighs. 

Your skin started tingling when you felt it going under your skirt. Tattooed fingers traced the soft lines on your legs until they reached your underwear. Only then did you realise that you were getting wet. This whole time, it was not just nerves; oh no, your body actually just craved that man in front of you and now you could do nothing to hide it. In your last attempt, you tried to push your legs together, but you made it worse when Bucky’s hand slipped higher and touched the wet spot. 

“Holy fuck.” He growled, ending the kiss and looking down, where his hand stayed under your clothes. “You are not so innocent, huh?” 

“Shy and innocent are two completely different things, Bucky.” 

“Right.” Biting his lip, he looked up at you again with darkened eyes, and you felt his hand pressing onto your dressed core more firmly. “Can I taste you?"

Your eyes widen in shock. You were not a complete virgin, but unfortunately, you had never experienced that before. “My sexual life is actually really, and I mean really, meager, and no one ever asked me to do it.” You whispered, almost in embarrassment. 

“So you’re telling me that no one asked to eat you out, princess? Well, that’s a shame. I bet your pussy is as sweet as you are.” He ran his nose across your cheek, enjoying your delicate skin and the light scent of your perfume, until he reached the sensitive part of your neck. “Your scent drives me crazy... You’re so sensitive, God. When was the last time you were with someone?” You tried to act normal and not shiever, but when Bucky’s finger was running up and down the soft cotton of your panties, it was nearly impossible to do. 

“I don’t know. I did it just a few times, and I don’t date. Guys are not really interested in me.”

“Loosers.” 

“Bucky.” You moaned his name when he suddenly fell to his knees. That view was so surreal for you. He seemed desperate to touch and taste you, to please you, even though he was painfully hard in his jeans. But he did not go too far because he was waiting for your response. “What if someone walks in?”

“There is a sign on the door. Are there many people who go to bookshops at that time?” Bucky took your left leg, slowly putting it on his shoulder. Your eyes followed every move with curiosity and a hint of worry when he turned his head to softly kiss your thigh.

“Okay.”

Bucky took your leg off his shoulder but only to slide his hands under your dress and take off your underwear. He did not break eye contact when he helped you step out of it and then put them in his jeans pocket. With a quick motion, your leg returned to it’s place near his face and you blushed, realising how close he was.

With his right hand on your thigh and the left one slowly creeping up your other leg, Bucky started leaving kisses higher and higher, until he finally reached your pulled-up dress. When his head suddenly lowered and you felt the first touch of his tongue, you almost died. 

Up until that moment, you didn’t even realize how tense your body was, but that first lick sent a hot wave over you and you could not hold back a whine. You just became a fucking puddle under his touch. 

Bucky was not much better than you. He gripped your thigh harder, as if he wanted you to be even closer, and moaned when your taste blossomed on his tongue. He knew that he was addicted now and that he could spend hours in between your legs. His tongue slipped across your folds, collecting your juice, and then circled around your sensitive clit. 

“Fuck, princess. You’re s’ sweet.” 

"Bucky—oh my god, please!” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but that tight knot in your stomach was becoming almost too painful, and you felt tears forming in your eyes. As if Bucky had already understood your body better, he put two fingers of his left hand at your entrance, slightly pushing in just the tips. 

You moaned again, your hand moving on it’s own and grabbing Bucky’s hair in despair. He slowly slipped inside, letting you adjust while still not stopping the movements of his tongue. You felt so fucking tight and wet around his fingers and his cock painfully twiched in his jeans. He started pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, and if you weren’t so far up in your head, you would’ve been embarrassed by the noises coming out of you. 

The combination of his thick digits and tongue pushed you into your first orgasm. Your back arched, and your legs unconsciously tried to close, but Bucky did not let that happen, gripping your thigh tighter and holding you in place. 

“Cum for me, pretty girl. C'mon, don’t be shy.” He encouraged you and that was everything you needed. 

You had no idea what happened next because your body felt like it was floating and your head fell back with a moan of Bucky's name. He let you go through it, slowing his pace and pulling out his fingers. As much as he didn’t want to stop, he knew that it was enough for you for the first time. 

You felt how Bucky jently lowered your leg and then, holding you by the waist, stood up and shamelessly licked his shiny lips. “I can’t believe you actually just did that. No one has ever given me an orgasm.” 

“Princess… You’re unbelievable.” He got closer to you, nuzzling into your neck and breathing in your scent. You could feel hardness in his pants, and while Bucky did not try to push it any further, the desire within you made you bold. 

“Do you have a condom?” Bucky immediately pulled away from you, his eyes darker than before and his hands tightening on your waist. You bit your lip and lowered your gaze, as if you said something wrong. 

"No, no, no, you can’t get shy after you just asked me this. Eyes on me, princess. Do you really want it?" 

“I do.” 

Bucky connected your lips, distracting you from unnecessary thoughts, and you felt two hands on the back sides of your thighs. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, as if your body knew what to do better than you. You both moaned when his bulge met with your dripping core; Bucky’s grip tightened and he slightly moved your hips. 

Firmly holding you in his hands, Bucky stepped away from the shelves and went to the table that was standing nearby. He blindly moved aside some books there, dropping a few on the floor and receiving a groan from you. He put you on the flat surface, not moving away from between your legs. 

Your hands finally felt more confident to study his tattooed skin. You never realised that you were into people with tattoos, but now, looking at the variety of things covering his tanned skin, your belly tightened with anticipation. Your hands slowly reached his neck, slightly pulling him closer. 

“You didn’t answer my question. Do you have it?” Instead of replying to you, Bucky, not breaking eye contact, reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. He opened it, taking the shiny square that was sticking out of there. 

Your eyes shot up at him, meeting his half-hooded and full-of-lust eyes. Bucky looked right back at you, mesmerized by your beauty—by the way your cheeks heated and your lips were slightly swollen. He quickly unbuttoned his pants, sliding them with boxers down his legs, until his hard as rock cock was free with pre-cum leaking from the tip. 

“If you’re going to look at me like that, then I might cum like a teenager before everything starts, princess.” Bucky growled, squeezing your thigh in his hand. You closed your eyes for a few seconds, then looked at his face again. You didn’t want to stare at his cock, but holy shit, it was better and bigger than everything you’ve seen before. You wondered what it would taste like, and that one thought made you clench around nothing. 

With a quick, smooth motion, Bucky opened the package with his teeth, sliding the condom down his shaft. His hand moved you closer to the edge of the table, so now your faces were just a few centimeters away and you could feel his cock through the fabric of your dress. 

“Be a good girl and hold it here for me.” Bucky folded your dress on your stomach, guiding your hand there, so he had better access to your sweet pussy. He had to see how he was disappearing inside of you with his own fucking eyes.  

“Bucky…” You whined because of the way you were exposed to him, but you still did what he said. With wide eyes, you looked at how he moved even closer to you, slightly brushing your folds with the tip. Your free arm gripped his tattooed forearm, digging in your nails. 

“So wet for me, so pretty... God, princess. I won’t be able to keep my hands from you. Say you want this. I need to hear it.” He palmed the side of your face, making you look up at him, and held himself at your entrance at the same time. 

“I want it. Please.” You whispered, your eyes running back and forth between his pretty blues. 

When he finally started slowly pushing into you, your mouth opened with a silent moan, and your eyes almost crossed with the way your whole body got covered with goosebumps. Bucky could not tear his eyes away from the place you two were connected. He felt every movement of your body and felt how your pussy almost sucked him inside. 

He knew that you would feel good, but he did not realize that it would feel like the most correct thing in his life. 

Bucky finally bottomed into you, stretching you the way you had never been before. You both thought that you could cum in that exact second, but you also both wanted to extend this moment as much as you could. 

“Princess…” That sounded so desperate when Bucky finally started moving his hips, dragging his cock out and then pushing right back in. "Fuck, I need to kiss you. You feel like a fuckin’ heaven, holy shit.” Not stopping sliding into you at a steady pace, he dragged your face closer, as if his life were depending on it. Bucky greedily bit and sucked your bottom lip, swallowing every moan and whine you let out.

“Mh— I can’t— oh, Bucky!” You cried, trying to hide your face in the crook of his neck.

He pulled you back away from his body, holding you that way so he had a better view of your face and body. He felt the way your thighs tried to squeeze together, your face started to heat and you tried to look away. 

“Don’t you dare become shy when I’m balls deep in you, princess.” He slowed his movements and teased you until you almost begged him to fuck you properly again. “You need to cum, huh? Show me those pretty eyes; don’t hide from me, c’mon.” You looked up, almost whining from the way he was looking at you. Pupils blown out, eyes slightly narrowed, and running around your face with interest and desire. “Do you need something? Speak up, sweet girl.”

“I want to cum. Let me, please.” 

“Good fucking girl.” 

Bucky started fucking you with a new forse; the table under you was squeaking with every move, making the whole scene even dirtier. You could not care about embarrassment anymore, moaning Bucky name and begging him to be harder. 

You both felt how close you were. 

Your hand, with your skirt in it, tightened around the fabric, your spread legs were trembling and you started uncontrollably squeezing Bucky’s cock inside of you. His dirty words made your vision foggy with satisfaction and the way he didn’t stop hitting your sweet spot was enough for you to go crazy with an overwhelming orgasm.

“Bucky! Bucky, oh my— fuuuck!” You cried in pleasure, feeling a few more thrusts of his throbbing cock, until he finally slowed down and emptied himself in the condom. Your body fell forward right into Bucky’s chest, too tired to even sit straight. He wrapped his hands around you, slowly stroking your back and kissing your temple. 

“You are fucking amazing, princess.” He mumbled into your hair and you just hummed in response. After a few quiet minutes, when your head started to clear up and the whole weight of this situation fell on you, you finally pulled away, hiding your eyes from him again. “What? What’s wrong?” 

“I just… I don’t know what we are supposed to do in this situation; I mean— it was just sex for you, right?” You asked, focusing on one particular tattoo on Bucky’s neck to not show how nervous you were.

Bucky didn’t answer for a few seconds, but you felt the weight of his eyes on you. Then he lifted your face with one of his hands and softly smiled at you. “If it meant nothing for me, I would’ve already been on my way home. I want you. I wanted you from the moment I saw you and I won’t be satisfied until you let me take you out. Are you free tomorrow evening, sweetheart?” He cooed, playfully tilting his head to the side. That man and his charm would be the death of you…

“Um, okay. I’m free, if you’re not kidding.”

“Not in the slightest. Now get dressed. I'm taking you home.” He pecked your lips before slowly pulling out of you and getting rid of the condom. You slowly jumped from the table, legs trembling from two mind-blowing orgasms, not missing how Bucky’s smirked at you. 

“You don’t have to take me home, Bucky.” You fixed your dress and hair as much as you could without a mirror and then picked up the books from the floor that were forgotten during your makeout session. 

“Well, I didn’t see a car near the shop, so I assume you’re walking home. And it’s dark.” He walked behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist and burying his face into your neck. “I don’t like this idea. I’m driving you home, princess.” 

“Fine. You won.” You playfully made an annoyed voice to what Bucky just chuckled and held you even closer. 

[reiderwriter]

🗝 Don't Back Down 🗝

Pairing: Unit Chief! Sub Spencer Reid x dom! BAU Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 24

Requested: Hello!! You are an excellent writer, and I hope you don’t mind a random request. :)!Basically, Spencer breaks protocol and endangers himself - runs after an unsub without backup, takes off his vest, etc. whatever it is - the reader is either there or finds out and is PISSED. She’s obviously not above him in the BAU, so she can’t punish him at work, but she can punish him in bed through toys/edging.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, brief mentions of details, minor gunshot wound, sex toys, punishment, BDSM themes, male sub Spencer, cock ring, dildo, masturbation (f), squirting, overstimulation (male), multiple orgasms, begging, messy sex, slight cum play, implied oral sex (f), boss/ subordinate relationship, partial established relationship, FWB dynamic. Implied switch x switch.

A/N: Hello! I really loved writing Unit Chief Spencer for my first Kink Bingo fic, so I've decided to bring him back a second time, and I'll be rounding out the challenge with a third part in the Unit Chief saga in July! You don't have to have read the first part, but if you want to, you can find it here~♡ I'm still enjoying the challenge of interpreting all the bingo challenges and this marks my very first bingo line! Let's see if I can get a full board!!

Masterlist || Bingo Board

His tenure as Unit Chief may have been temporary and wholly unwanted, but you admired Spencer's commitment to actually taking care of every member of the team he was left in charge of. 

He'd supported JJ in interviews, actually taking care of the press very effectively, and made sure Garcia was calm and stable. Hell, he'd even made Rossi feel better about his work on cases. And for you - well, he'd taught you to shoot straight. That and more. 

He'd held you in the middle of the night on the tougher cases, letting you sob into his bare chest the day you'd first killed an unsub. He'd distracted you from cases with his tongue, and his fingers and his dick, he'd given you pleasure where the job gave only pain and stress, and you loved him. 

You loved him, even if he was going to get himself killed. 

At first, it had been pulling Luke out of the way of a moving vehicle, being almost mowed down himself when on a case. Then he'd walked into a scene without his gun and had actually taken off his vest in exchange for JJ and Tara being able to back away to safety. He'd closed a door between him and Rossi and an active bomb that had only just been deactivated in time, and more recently, he'd taken two bullets for you. 

It was like he wanted to die. 

Th bullets, of course, had hit his vest, but a third had scraped his shoulder, and the cry out of pain had you nearly hysterical. Luke had taken down the unsub immediately, but you were a flood of tears already, panicking and having and dropping to your knees as you shook, the anxiety of almost losing him flooding your body with adrenaline. 

After all that, he was still the one comforting you. 

“Y/N. Y/N, shhh, it's okay, I'm here. I'm okay. Don't cry were both safe, I saved you. We're safe.” 

You pounded at his chest, but with the others surrounding you, there was nothing to do but stand and pull yourself together, even if you wanted to rage at him and tell and scream. 

He gave out orders and was escorted away to an ambulance, and you wiped your tears and got to work. You'd fucked Spencer, sure, you had been fucking him for months now, but it wasn't a relationship. It certainly wasn't anything your coworkers knew about, and you knew they'd have words if they did know. 

So you wiped your tears, and you put your head down and finished up your work. Then you made your way back to the jet, back to your home, back to your bed, and waited for him to make an appearance. 

You weren't in a relationship, but you knew he'd come. You heard his keys in your door, rolling your eyes at how naive you'd been handing it over - in case of emergencies, really, he had Luke and Penelope’s spare keys as well because they lived alone, it'd be safer. 

You sat up in your bed and waited for him to come in, scoffing when he knocked on your bedroom door.

“Was there a point to that, Spencer?” You asked, calling him in. 

He looked dishevelled, slightly worse for ware, but god did he look good. He wore a new shirt, a bullet hole ripped in the last one, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The top buttons were undone, and he discarded his jacket on your chair before stepping closer. 

“Y/N…” his voice was so tired you almost forgot how angry you were. Almost. 

“No. Don't come to me like that after you pulled that stupid shit today, Spencer.” 

“He was going to shoot you-” 

“He was going to miss. You're taller than me. And if I'd stayed where I was, I would have fired off a round before he could even get one shot in. But you pushed me out of the way and almost got yourself killed instead.”

He stood with his hands on his hips in front of the bed, a scowl on his face as he struggled with words to find next. 

“I won't apologize for saving your life.”

“No, you won't because you didn't save my life. You almost ended yours.”

“Y/N-” 

You knelt on the bed now and grabbed his shoulders, pushing him to his knees. 

“No. I'm done listening, and you're done talking. If you're not going to stop walking into near death experiences, you don't get to walk in here and fuck me.”

He sank to his knees easily, his eyes wide as you sat up on the bed in front of him. You thought of leaving him there the entire night, of kicking him out into the living room to sleep on the couch. If you hadn't been through so much that day, you'd just send him home. 

But sat there on his knees, you saw a flash of desire in his eyes, big and round and needy. 

His gaze flicked to your core, and you suddenly entertained different ways to punish him, to train him out of destructive behaviour. 

“Handcuffs,” you said, holding out your hands for them. He passed them up, and you left the bed, restraining his hands behind his back quickly and grabbing two items from your draws. 

You moved to the bed and knelt again as he looked at you with dark eyes, suddenly aware of what was happening to him. 

“Y/N-” 

“I didn't say you could speak,” you said as you quickly peeled off your nightdress, leaving yourself bare on the bed. 

Usually, you'd feel embarrassed being naked. Even when he undressed you, you felt the urge to cover your tits, to squeeze your legs shut so he couldn't see all of you, to let him pry your hands away, to coax your legs apart. 

Now, you sat confidently, spine straightening as you looked down at him. 

His eyes took in your body, and he winced as if pained when you touched yourself, knowing that usually he alone had that honour. 

“Y/N…”

“One more time, and you won't return to this bed for days. Do you understand?”

Learning, he nodded and sat up again to watch your fingers play with your nipples, twisting them either way as you moaned and sighed above him.

His breathing hitched as you let your hands trail lower and lower until they reached your cunt. You didn't touch yourself yet though. 

“Open,” You said, leaning forward and tapping his chin. He complied, opening his mouth and you shoved two fingers inside.

“Get them nice and wet for me.” 

He licked and sucked your fingers for two minutes, never breaking eye contact as his spit rolled down your hand. 

“Good boy,” you said, pulling them away as you began to touch yourself. Sitting back on your ass, you rubbed your clit, rubbing his spit into your sensitive button, letting him know how good it felt, how close you were to cumming with his spit on your cunt. You plunged one finger in and then another as you watched him bite his tongue, careful not to let even a small sound slip out. 

You didn't even have to glance down to know he was hard. It was in the set of his shoulders, the rapid breaths he took. It was the way he sat back on his heels, rocking back and forth to feel some goddamn friction. 

You couldn't have that. 

You placed your foot on his uninjured shoulder and tried to hold him in place. 

“Don't fucking move,” you said, slipping a second finger inside yourself ad you picked up the pace. Your hips bucked ad you watched him watch your cunt, paying attention to every twitch you made, every moan, breath, gasp, and shudder. 

“I'm gonna cum, fuck, I'm gonna- shit! Shit-” 

You came with a spurt, squirting your cum across his face as he leaned closer, desperate to taste you. You grabbed his hair and forced him backwards though, grabbing the two toys beside you as you dropped down to the floor. 

“You're not touching my cunt today, Spencer, not even for a taste. You're not touching anything today.”

You pulled his cock free from his pants and spat on it, not bothering to touch it properly before pushing the cock ring onto him and pressing the on button. 

In a minute he was a moaning mess and you smiled at the painful pleasure disrupting his features. 

“Eyes open, Spencer, you have to keep watching.” 

You kept your eyes locked with his, his mouth open wide in a silent moan as he tried not to cum, desperate to hold out for you as long as he could. 

You climbed back onto your bed and spread your legs again, this time accompanied by a translucent plastic cock. You teased your hole for a few seconds, grabbing Spencer's attention before pushing it in. 

His eyes were stormy as he watched you fuck yourself with your old companion. You hadn't used it in a while, basically since you'd started fucking Spencer. He had rules, and one of them was that you couldn't use the dildo without his permission. He'd never given permission.

The look on his face now was worth whatever punishment he'd had out in the future, a mixture of anger and pathetic arousal, his eyes never leaving your cunt even as his own dick started spurting.

He came quickly, splashing up his shirt, ruining his pants. 

You left him there like that, though, even as he winced from the overstimulation. 

He didn't make a sound still, even as his dick got hard again almost immediately after deflating the first time.

“Look at what a mess you made. You're such a little pervert that you just came all over your shirt and pants. I hope you bought a spare, Spencer.” 

His fight was gone as he looked at you again, only lust left as he panted and writhed beneath you. 

You kept riding the dildo, burying It between pillows so you could ride it easier without needing to hold it. 

He watched transfixed as his cock twitched again, vibrating still right on his balls. 

“Tell me how good it feels, Spencer.’

“Hurts… Y/N, so good…. it hurts.”

You smiled down at him and kept asking him questions, knowing he'd never be able to stay quiet now. 

“Do you want to cum again?” 

“Fuck…yes, please, Y/N, please.”

“Do you want to cum all over yourself one more time?”

“N-No… messy, want to cum…in you.”

“What a shame, Spencer, but that isn't allowed. I won't let you cum in me if you're going to try to take a bullet in the field.”

“Y/N… p-please,” he whined, and you heard his voice break, hips thrusting up into the air now as he watched you. 

“No. You're going to cum on yourself until you promise not to do it again.”

He shook his head, closing his eyes as he tried to resist cumming for a second time, so out of control. “Please-” 

“You can do it. Promise me.” 

“Y/N, p-please let me cum” he moaned again, his hands pulling at the restraints so he could get this infernal cock ring off of him and bury himself inside of you. 

But it was too late, and his second orgssm stretched out longer than the one before. 

You'd leaned in so close you'd caught a drop of cum on your face, but most of it pooled on him instead. He collapses backwards, his cum coating his stomach and chest, his shirt going translucent in places as the ring kept buzzing. 

His moans were loud now, and immediately, he knew it was too much to wish for round three. 

“I promise! Y/N, I promise, please fuck, I promise.”

You quickly fell to the floor, turning off the cock ring and slipping it off as you kissed him tenderly, thanking him and praising him for doing such a good job for you. 

You rolled him onto his side and removed the handcuffs, immediately pulling them into your lap and massaging them, feeling a bit guilty about the red marks. 

“Spencer?” You asked after a few moments when he seemed to have regained his breath and his senses. 

“Mmm?” 

“We should get you in bed. You need to rest.” 

He nodded and weakly sat himself up, falling into bed beside you. He threw the dildo across the room and nuzzled himself into you, head buried between your breasts. 

You pulled away and came back with a wash cloth, stripping his shirt and pants and cleaning the cum off him as best you could so he could sleep comfortably. 

“I prefer when you do that with your mouth, you know?” He joked, and you playfully hit his leg. He couldn't still be thinking about sex after that. 

But he was. As careful as you were to not overstimulate him again, his cock still rose again, and he pushed your hands away, pulling you up to him. 

“I came twice, but you only did it once,” he whispered between kisses. 

“It seems like we need to get even.”

With that, you knew that your turn being in charge was over, and he was the leader now.

"But only if you beg for it," you smirked, looking up at him, but he easily flipped you over, pushing you up so you were kneeling on the sheets above him again, him undernesth you. 

You happily followed him as he pulled your dripping core over his mouth, and he pulled you in for one last taste, begging you for forgiveness with his tongue again and again.

[sungstars]

slut me out | njm x fem!reader

i.e you needed to give your situationship the time of his life after seeing his instagram story.

word count: 2.8k (not proof read)

content warning: situationship, open ending, smut lol, oral (m. rec.), fingering (f. rec.), explicit sex, unprotected sex(no!), creampie, lmk if i missed anything thanks!

author's note: two fics in one day! can we believe this LOL. would you guys be surprised if i said that i have a mark one that i'm hoping to finish and it'll be queued up for tomorrow morning/afternoon. i hope you all enjoy this fic and as always, dedicated to my crazy and delusional bffs. likes & reblogs are appreciated as always. requests are open till october 5th! i'm still working on my jay fic, and hoping to have that out by tuesday!!

“you’re fucking crazy,” you said once the phone picked up after the first ring, “you can delete that story, i saw it.”

jaemin let out a hearty laugh, “hmm? but jisungie looks so cute, what if one of my followers wants me to put them on with him?”

you jeer, fingering hovering over the red button on the screen, “you definitely could’ve posted him without making sure your shirt is unbuttoned and they can see the chain that i bought you peeking through. what if they’re crazy like me?”

“don’t worry, nobody has you beat in that department.” jaemin added quickly, “you can come over if you want.”

did you want to? absolutely. you needed to rock his world so hard that it was likely to be rated a category 9.5 earthquake.

“you can come to me,” you quipped back, “and hurry up, i dont have a lot of patience. don’t change either.”

“you’re so demanding,” jaemin whined, a glint of playfulness evident in his voice, “i have to stop at my other hoe’s house first, but i’ll be there.”

“not even funny.” you hung up the phone, rolling your eyes.

focusing back on your room, you jumped up in a panic. you needed to change and also pick up the clothes you had thrown all over the place.

realistically, you didn’t know if jaemin was kidding about seeing somebody else first, but if he wasn’t, you had about twenty minutes including traffic before he got to your place.

you shoved all the loose piece of clothing into whatever drawer or laundry basket they would fit into. doing a once over your room, you were satisfied with what you were able to do.

looking at your floor length mirror, you didn’t care too much about what you had on. a big t-shirt with snoopy playing baseball on the front.

easy access for jaemin, but you should probably change your dingy halloween panties from victoria secret into something cute.

perhaps pink? that seemed on brand for tonight’s theme.

you were digging through your underwear drawer looking for that lacey pink thong you got from the mall a few weeks ago when you heard a knock on your door.

“fuck,” you said, slamming the drawer shut to no avail and rubbing your hands down your hair to smooth out any frizz, “fuck.”

the knocking got louder, causing you to practically trip on air as you ran to grab the door.

“took your sweet time letting me in,” jaemin pouted. leaning against the doorframe when you opened it, “that mad at me?”

rolling your eyes, you pulled him in by his silky pajama shirt and closing the door behind him, “guess she wasn’t that good if you got here within the same hour of calling.”

jaemin smiled, dropping down onto your couch and sliding his shoes off, “i’d say she was pretty damn good if i got done quickly and i’m not here.”

you crossed your arms, scoffing at his comment and began to walk to your bedroom.

“you’re such a dick.”

“i heard that,” he said, jumping off the couch to chase behind you, “i'm just kidding y/n, you know it's just you."

"are you sure? cause you keep making comments about other girls, are you trynna compensate? i don't care if you see other people."

jaemin laughed at you for the nth time this evening, making you want to just slam your bedroom door in his face and lock him out, but unfortunately for you, seeing jaemin in those pink pajamas and gold chain sent you into borderline ovulation.

you grabbed jaemin by the arm, leading him to sit on your bed and standing between his legs.

"it's just you," jaemin reassured, a hand coming up to rub your hip gently, "just like driving you crazy 'cause i know you're really fucking insane."

jaemin got a whiff of your secret cloud perfume as you leaned down and kissed his neck gently.

"i'm going to turn you every way but loose tonight," you whispered into his ear, teeth grazing the shell of his ear, "and i'm gonna show you how insane i am over you."

a shiver went down jaemin's back as you kissed down his neck and to his adam's apple, making sure to suck dark marks into his skin before placing your lips on his.

his arms wrapped your waist, pulling you down into his lap as he deepened the kiss. your hands found their way entangled into his brunette locks, moaning as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

the two of you fought for dominance over the kiss, though jaemin just wanted to put up a good fight before letting you win.

you then slipped your tongue into his mouth, removing your hands from his hair and moving them down to his shoulders.

you gently pushed him back and onto the mattress, letting your fingers skillfully undo his pajama shirt, enjoying the smooth silk under your fingertips before pulling the shirt open.

jaemin pressed his hips up, hoping to get a small bit of friction on his growing erection and moaning when you rut your own hips down.

pulling away from the kiss, your chest heaved as you did a lookover his body. his plush lips swollen and glossy with spit, dark splots decorating his skin from earlier, his own defined chest moving rapidly as he tried to catch his own breath.

"you look so pretty under me, jaem," you complimented, your fingers dancing across his exposed collarbones and down his gold chain, "a sight only i should be allowed to see."

jaemin exhaled heavily through his nose, "a sight only for you. . please, don't stop. i want you. . i need you so badly, y/n."

how could you deny such a request from a pretty boy completely at your disposal? you weren't a cruel or dumb woman, so of course you'll comply.

you leaned down to attach your lips to his collarbone, biting and sucking gently as you made your way down his chest.

moving the pink fabric away, you let your tongue teasingly flick at his nipple to elicit a whiny moan from his mouth before taking his nipple between your lips.

"fuck y/n," he groaned, "that feels so good."

smirking to yourself, you pull off and stand up. the boy's eyes widened, trying to hold back another whine because why did you pull off? and why are you standing?

"c'mon," jaemin said, voice cracking slightly, "don't be a tease."

"a tease?" you titled your head as he sat up on his elbows, "if you beg, i'll consider."

a bright red hue cascaded over jaemin's face at your request, but he couldn't get any more pathetic than he already looked.

"y/n," he pleaded, "please do something. i am so undeniably hard, and if i don't feel those pretty lips or pretty hands wrapped around my dick that i know you love, i will implode and you'll be out of a bomb dick appointment and home."

a laugh escaped, jaemin really knew what to say to make you give into him. it's why you liked him honestly. he was funny and charming, and did in fact have a great dick that drove you insane. you used to be normal before he stuck his dick in you.

jaemin reached forward, grabbing your hand and placing it over his boner. that action alone could've made you cum in your panties because pathetic jaemin was probably your favorite jaemin.

you instinctively wrapped your fingers around it the best you could while it was restrained in those silky pants, slowly jerking him off and watching a bead of precum stain the fabric.

"see how hard i am?" he asked, breathily, "all for you. all because of you."

stroking your ego was one of the many things jaemin was good at, so you decided to play nicely and give him something to relief this tension you could feel growing in his body.

"take 'em off," you said, releasing his cock from your grip, moving back to give him room, "show me that pretty dick, jaem."

if you weren't standing in front of him, you were sure he would've fell face forward onto your carpet from how fast he was trying to get his pants down and off his hips.

once they were at his thighs, you leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his lips before sinking down to your knees.

you were face to face with jaemin's cock, the tip an angry shade of red and precum still leaking from his slit.

spit began to pool inside your mouth the longer you looked at it, and you stuck your tongue out to swipe the precum dribbling from his cock.

jaemin moaned out, hands gripping the sheets beneath him, “stop. . put it in your mouth.”

you furrowed your eyebrows and looked up, “don’t make demands.”

the brunette’s jaw ticked, one hand coming up to your hair and the other grabbing the base of his dick.

he pushed your head back roughly, tapping the head of his cock on your lips and smearing more precum across, “don’t be a fucking tease.”

your eyes widened in surprise at the switch in jaemin's demeanor, but instead of giving him a hard time, you complied by opening your mouth for him.

without hesitation, jaemin shoved his cock into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat which caused you to gag and tears well up in your eyes.

"don't get sensitive now," he mumbled, swiping the tears from your face, "now be good and suck. show me why you're my favorite."

his favorite? you should been his fuckin' only like he said you were earlier. what is up with the inconsistency? he's gonna piss you off.

you used your tongue to lick the under part of his cock, pulling off to leave just the tip in your mouth.

jaemin's grip on your hair tightened, trying his best to let you have control, but wanting nothing more than to just fuck your throat until you're sobbing.

you pulled completely off his cock, bringing your hand to jerk him off while you used your tongue to lick a stripe on his balls and gently suck.

the brunette's eyes rolled back, a string of moans and high pitched whines leaving his throat as you continued to toy with his balls.

whenever your hand reached the tip, you would squeeze every so slightly, causing him to fuck into your hand.

jaemin was close, and you could tell by the way he was whimpering and trying to chase your hand.

you looked up at him, smiling to yourself before pulling off his dick completely, basking in his borderline sob at the loss of contact.

"why did you stop?" tears welled up in his eyes, feeling like he would explode, "you're so fuckin' mean."

cooing, you wiped tears away from his eyes like he did earlier, "cause i knew you were close, jaem."

he sniffled, grabbing you and pinning you down onto the bed in one swift motion.

sometimes, you forget how strong he can be, causing you to get even more wet if that was possible. your panties were sticking almost uncomfortably to your cunt, and you were hoping he would do something to relief that soon.

too lost in your own thoughts of pleasure, you didn't even realize jaemin was pulling your t-shirt up until the cool air hit your nipples.

he used his lithe digits to roll your perked nipples around, causing you to squeal at the contact.

"love the panties," jaemin teased, using one of his hands to snap the waistband against your skin, "so cute and so soaked. god, you really get off from anything as long as it's me, huh?"

"you fuckin' wish," you tried to bite, but it came out as a whimper when he pressed his hand against your core, allowing for some friction of pleasure.

"shhh," he said, "can't even muster an ounce of niceness when i'm about to fuck you?"

jaemin flicked your nipples, smirking at your almost pained moan before moving down to take your underwear off, eyes watching how they were sticking to your sopping cunt, "so wet for me, hm?"

you nodded your head in compliance this time, "all for you."

he swiped a finger up your slit, bringing it to his mouth and licking it clean, "taste so sweet, but act so so mean towards nana, wonder why that is?"

you huffed, hooking a heel behind his thigh and pulling him close so his cock would make some contact with your cunt, a noise escaping your throat when the tip came into rough contact with your clit.

"that needy? what was it you said earlier? beg. beg for it, dumb whore."

degrading was something you and jaemin never tried, but with how effortlessly it slipped out of his mouth, you wish he would've done it sooner.

"jaem," you grinded against his cock, "please fuck me, y'know you want to. please, i need it so badly."

jaemin just looked at you unimpressed, dragging his cock up and down your cunt, looking at how you falter when his tip catches your sensitive bundle of nerves, "beg more."

you wanted to burst into tears, he knows how much you want him, he can feel how wet you are and probably at more slickness slipping out as he teased you, "nana, please put it in. i'll stop being mean, promise. i need your cock--i need you. please fuck me."

his left hand came up to smooth your hair out, smiling all his pearls at you as he slowly pushed the fat tip of his cock into you, finally.

jaemin slowly pushed himself into your cunt, moaning at how easily you took his cock, letting his hand fall from your hair and place pressure on your clit.

"it's like you were made for me, fuck" he gritted his teeth, thrusting shallowly into you, "taking me so well every time, your cunt just fuckin' sucks me in.. ha."

all you could do was moan in response, eyes rolling back when jaemin's gold chain smacked you in the nose, "fuck, too good."

jaemin rubbed your clit roughly as he picked his pace up, hips snapping against yours as your arousal ran down your thighs and his balls, creating a wet sound between the two of you.

you clenched around jaemin's cock, letting out high pitched noises of pleasure as he fucked you harshly, the knot in your stomach tightening and traveling down your pelvis.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" you cried, placing your hand on his lower abdomen and trying to push him away, but he quickly snatched it and held it above your head, "jaem, fuck, please, it's too much."

jaemin ignored your pleas, "y'know you can take it, stop trying to run from it."

when jaemin snapped his hips harshly once more, you felt that knot in your stomach break and ecstasy overtake your senses.

you couldn't even muster the feeling of embarassment from how good you felt when liquid practically sprayed your thighs and jaemin's abdomen.

the boy tapped the head of his cock on your clit, groaning loudly as you continued to squirt before roughly showing himself back into you.

"jaemin," you squealed, back arching up, "i can't! i can't."

"you can," he said, fucking you harshly, feeling himself getting closer and closer, "and you will take this dick. you wanna whine about other people havin' it so bad, take it, slut."

with jaemin fucking you so soon after an intense orgasm, all you could do was sob and mumble his name. it wasn't going to take you long to cum again, and jaemin could tell about how you were clenching on his dick.

your fingers dug into his shoulders, creating red crescents as his chain smacked you over and over again, his orgasm approaching any second.

"i'm so close, angel." he whined, his thrusts starting to stutter and slow down, "fuck, can i come inside please?"

"o-of course," you nodded your head, your own orgasm approaching once more, "please cum in me."

one more snap of jaemin's hips and he let out a loud moan, stilling himself as white hot ropes of his cum began to fill you and create a creamy ring around his cock, "fuck, you were too good."

he began to thrust slowly to ride out your orgasms, kissing your forehead and whispering sweet praises into your ear.

once you pushed his chest away to let him know he was overstimulating you, he pulled out completely and laid next to you, chest heaving rapidly.

"y/n." he turned on his side, "i really do like you."

you smiled, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers, "i really like you too jaemin."

he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek and pulled you closer to him, "it's always been just you."

end!

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

I don't think you understand

The mer price fic is absolute perfection.

Like I'm talking a literal masterpiece

This fic will stay engraved in my brain forever. You're an absolutely amazing writer. Thank you ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

anon, THANK you. i am actually thrilled to see other people enjoying mer Price and remora reader as much as i do. please please please let me brain dump more about Price taking remora reader back to his home reef to meet the rest of shark mer 141:

SOAP is enamored instantly because you're so fucking grabbable.

within moments of seeing you peek out from behind Price's tail, he darts around and snatches you up with greedy hands. you're so small!! so tiny and cute when you squirm. and you make noises. 

he handles you like a toy until Price barks at him to cut it out. he does (and Price makes him promise not to be so rough with you; you're fragile, he claims) but Soap is incorrigible.

he follows you for days afterward. just obsessed. he loves chasing your silver tail as you dart around the reef, trying to hide from him. when he catches up to you, you have little choice but to give in and let him manhandle you. he certainly toes the line of whatever Price meant when he said no rough play, you little shit, i mean it.

he pushes the limits of your docile nature. when you do eventually reach the end of your patience and dart out of his hands just to get a break from his grabby claws, guess what? you've triggered his prey drive and he gives chase. he catches you, of course, and then before he can stop himself, he bites you.

your squeal brings Price out into the open instantly and Soap gets an earful again. he grins at you the whole time as you hide over Price's shoulder.

after that, Soap gets a little craftier about it. he eases up just enough to figure out exactly how playful (rough) he can be before you can't take any more. he learns how to stop just shy of making you shriek again. Price is aware, but he's a little too indulgent to stop it. he's happy to let Soap have his fun as long as he doesn't break you. you just have to suck it up. that indulgent nature is how you ended up with Price in the first place, after all.

goes without saying, but Soap is the first one to use you as a sex toy.

GHOST seems to take zero interest in you at first. you're not the sharpest urchin in the tide pool, are you? you can't be if you're here willingly. he figures you won't stick around long, and if you do, you won't stay intact.

you attempt to take up grooming his skin and tail and teeth as you do with the others. he moves away from you without a word, lashing his scarred tail to re-settle himself several feet away.

if you follow and try to groom him again, you earn a deep growl.

you dart off the moment he voices that rumbling displeasure. he notes your skittishness around him and uses it to make you leave him alone.

you, however, have a job to do. you won't be scared off that easily.

after he chases you off that way a few times, you begin to find him and simply sit near him. mirroring him. no big deal. instead of grooming him, you use the time to groom yourself. can't keep everyone else clean if you're grimy, after all.

he notices you and growls to warn you off again. you pretend not to hear.

he flicks his tail in irritation, considers cuffing you over the head to teach you a lesson, but you're too far away to reach without kicking his whole big self up into the water to move several feet. so he elects instead to turn over and ignore you. you keep this up for several days. you sit a little closer every time.

one day, you finish cleaning your own tail fin and casually begin to clean his. he growls. you pause. when he stops and does nothing further, you resume your work. he growls again, and you continue grooming him as if you don't hear him. he keeps growling, but once you begin to run your claws over a stubborn patch of skin to dislodge some stuck grit that's been bothering him, his growling fades into grumbling. and then silence. he lets you keep at it. victory.

this becomes a habit. you seek him out (never the other way around) and typically find him lazing on the floor of some cave or sunning in the reef's shallows. you set to work grooming him thoroughly. all business. he grumbles and growls occasionally when you move his arm or tug your fingers through his hair, but he never stops you.

one day, Soap comes looking for you and finds you in the middle of this little cleaning ritual. Soap nudges you away, insisting you instead let him chase you around the reef. but the moment your hands leave Ghost's rough skin and he hears you protest, he opens his eyes and snaps his teeth at Soap.

Soap pulls back (and so do you) until Ghost grasps your lil wrist and drags you back down wordlessly to where you were sitting and cleaning his shoulder.

Soap smirks at him. Ghost glares back.

"you got something to say, then say it."

"here i thought you were toleratin' it for her sake. seems i misjudged the situation."

"there is no situation."

"whatever you say."

Soap leaves with a flick of his tail. you're so pleased that, when you're finished grooming Ghost, you burrow yourself between his arms as he lays on his side. you nuzzle into his neck and bunt your head up against him, practically purring now that you know you've apparently won him over.

he grabs you, pretending to be disgruntled, but then instead of releasing you he crushes you against his chest again and settles in for a nap. no, you don't get to leave.

GAZ wonders what exactly is going on inside your head. it doesn't escape his notice that your """instincts""" seem to have you by the throat in this situation. but he suspects you're leaning a bit more into that whole brainless servant thing than you're letting on.

he's perfectly happy to let you groom him, flatter him, fetch him whatever baubles or snacks he'd like at the moment; he's perfectly polite to you, too. really likes it when you butter him up. tell him he's got the sharpest teeth and the strongest muscles and the fastest tail in the reef and he'll listen to you for hours, preening in the sunlight as you clean the grime off his fins.

plus, he praises you too, and you love that. that's why it takes you so long to notice he's watching you much more closely than anyone else is.

see, you've already disarmed Price. Soap sees you as a toy more than a fellow mer. Ghost cares more about finding the best places to lurk around than understanding the little mer that shares their reef now. it's fascinating--how you've successfully passed yourself off as a silly, stupid little fish. the more he watches you, analyzes you, the more he wonders what exactly you're getting out of this.

when you groom him each day, he asks you questions. casual ones. are you enjoying the reef? what games do you like to play? how fast can you swim? how many other mer have you met? are you eating enough? what's your favorite food?

it's enough to make you wary, but then, he seems harmless. you're honest with him. it pays off, because when you tell him how much you like the taste of those little brown seabirds that dip into the reef from time to time, you're shocked the next day to find one of those very seabirds sitting dead--neck cleanly snapped--just for you in the shallow alcove next to where Price sleeps (and you by extension).

you find Gaz that instant and insist it's too kind a gift; you can't accept it. what you can't tell him is that it's not a good idea for you to eat in front of them. you eat scraps, and you eat them where of them can see. that's the deal--obviously you do what you do for these four sharks in exchange for protection and ostensibly for food, but you need to avoid looking like you're taking more than your fair share. and to sharks, a species that is notoriously food-aggressive, your fair share must be vanishingly small.

he just smiles at you--so disarmingly that you flounder for a moment. somehow he convinces you to keep the kill.

he begins to turn up--looking amused but not surprised--when you steal scraps of food after the group has had its fill of a fresh kill. it makes you nervous for him to see you with food in hand (much less to watch you eat) but he scoffs at the idea of holding it against you. 

at some point, he begins to bring you fresh meat himself. this is-- it's unacceptable. you're supposed to be the one working while he rests. he's not allowed to give you that kind of comfort. if you're not earning your keep, after all, you don't have a place here. you push his gifts away, busying yourself with some other task. he insists. you decline.

"you're refusing me?" he asks, feigning surprise. "i thought that went against your instincts."

you fluster, ruffling up in what he assumes is a pout. he's trapped you in a catch-22. ultimately, you have to accept the stupid meat-gift because it's what he wants. you find this makes you more irritable than it should. he smirks at you, which serves to irritate you more.

he pulls you into his lap as you eat. and he thinks it's so cute the way you scowl the whole time.

from then on, whenever you act a little too stupid for his liking, he pries and pokes and prods until he draws out that other, haughtier side of you. he has a knack for frustrating you. he loves to sass you, and when you finally drop the act and sass him back, he falls a little bit more in love with you every time.

...

more mer au / masterlist tag

[pupyuj]

→ “your colorful secrets.” || jang wonyoung x reader fic.

— weeks after the event which you call "the weirdest thing that's ever happened all year", wonyoung approaches you about your 'strange' behavior towards her in the most 'wonyoung' way possible...

word count: 10.6k

dynamic: dom!mean girl!jang wonyoung x sub!nerd!reader.

content warnings: smut, fingering, clit play, nipple play, masturbation (for like, a minute lmao), overstimulation, mommy kink, degradation.

requested? : kind of!

a/n: well, we finally made it ya'll! 😭😭💞 i feel like i'm gonna say this about every fic i write here from now on but PHEWWW THIS QUITE LITERALLY TOOK FOREVER?? but i was more than happy to flesh this little universe out more and revisit our favorite mean girl and her awkward nerd <33 just like you guys, "magic words" is one of my favorite things that i have written so even though this kinda took me wayyy too long to finish, I WAS SO HAPPY THAT I STILL DID IT UEUEUE MEAN GIRL WONY MY BELOVED 🥺💓 anyhow, i really, really hope you guys enjoy this and here's to more mean girl wonys in the future hehehe

p.s. i hope ya'll don't get bored too easily bcs wow there's a shit ton of talking in the first half of this fic—

previous: magic words.

jang wonyoung was late. 

to class.

which wasn’t exactly all that surprising considering she thinks she can do whatever she wants. but she was never late to class. you would know—you were always waiting until she entered the room. it was like you were never calm until she appeared, but that was because you have had the biggest, lamest crush on her all year. even the professor took a pause when he called wonyoung’s name for attendance and nobody was there to respond with “i’m here, professor~” and a cheeky smile. you stared at the empty seat in the middle of the classroom, wonyoung’s seat, and wondered what could’ve been in her way for her to— 

“just hold on for mommy, ‘kay?”

you dropped your pen, covering your red face with your hands. your seatmate gave you a brief look before going back to reading her notes. did you really have to think about that first thing in the morning? well, it wasn’t as if it was all you have been thinking about for the past two weeks: wonyoung’s lips on yours, her hands all over you, her sweet voice soothing you, and her eyes looking at you like you were her last meal… you still couldn’t believe that entire thing even happened!

ever since then, things have been really weird. a lot of people looked at you more when before wonyoung fucked you, you were usually ignored which you liked. and you knew everybody whispered about you and wonyoung too. neither of you were being discreet in that room in the library that day so you heard all sorts of things from your fellow students the day after. usually about how they didn’t think you were that kind of girl, or how they never thought wonyoung would ever consider fucking ‘someone like you’. see, other people would be mad if they heard some strangers say all those things about them but actually, you agreed with them.

everything about that day went against a lot of things that you thought about yourself. well, you weren’t planning on staying a virgin forever but you really didn’t expect for it to be taken by jang wonyoung of all people!

“come on, baby. give me a show.”

you squeezed your thighs together, your heart hammering inside your chest. god, it almost felt like wonyoung was right up against your ear—talking to you and berating you for thinking about her 24/7 after she fucked you. you felt your core clench upon remembering how warm wonyoung’s hands were, how her fingers felt ramming inside you… god, you wanted it all again. but there was no way she would agree to that, right? knowing wonyoung and the kind of girl that she was, that would be the only time she would fuck you, right?

a pink jacket catches your attention, making you look up from your thighs. jang wonyoung has finally arrived. she was talking to the professor as she sat in her seat, all smiles and giggles as usual. she throws a brief glance over her shoulder, sharp eyes meeting yours. you didn’t miss the way the corner of her mouth lifted up, smirking at you as she eyed you down. you didn’t even know how the fuck she was able to do that within a millisecond of looking at you, but she did it anyway and it only made you squirm in your seat.

oh, how pathetic you were. you’ve been feeling all sorts of things after wonyoung fucked you, but you never knew what to do about them. for now, you just wanted to get through another day of being in wonyoung’s presence despite everything that’s happened. she hasn’t spoken much to you since that day and you doubted that anything was going to change—she’s jang wonyoung after all. you were probably just another hook-up to her, something she’s bound to forget about in a week or so.

(see, that was just all kinds of wrong because right at this moment, all the nosy people who were staring at wonyoung can clearly see how she spared your pitiful figure by the window little glances every other minute with a sly smile on her face. she didn’t make an effort to be discreet. she never does. when jang wonyoung likes something, she is going to let people know—she has to! or else they’ll all just think you’re up for grabs.

no. wonyoung was going to show them only she can really pull all the nice girls in this school. especially you—(y/n) (l/n), the campus’ adorably awkward bookworm who’s very endearingly clumsy despite her well-put appearance. god, how wonyoung had become obsessed with you and you had absolutely no idea.

but it was more than just your character too. for a while now, actually ever since she fucked you, something about you has been bothering her mind. it’s made her unable to stop thinking about you and truthfully, it fucking pissed her off so much that she had to brainstorm a plan, a solution, for it. which became the reason why she was late today. will wonyoung actually execute it? who knows! for now, she can stare at you scribbling on your notes and laugh to herself because she knew, oh she so knew, that every time you paused, shut your eyes, and shook your head—you were thinking about her.)

thankfully, the class ended after another hour and a half. halfway through it all, you got bored and opted to stare out the window. so much so that you didn’t realize class was over until the familiar scent of money and local fame wafted into your nose—wonyoung had walked past you, and she winked at you. you found yourself freezing up in your seat, so fucking pathetic. nobody seemed to notice what wonyoung had just done which was fortunate for you! with bright red cheeks and ears, you packed up our belongings in record time and swiftly power-walked your way out of the classroom.

the attention that was put on you as you walked along the hallways of the building was annoying, for the lack of a better word. it seems like everybody was looking at you as if this was the very first instance of a loser somehow ‘getting’ the popular girl to sleep with her. sometimes, you wish it never happened. as good as it felt, the aftermath was almost not worth it. you’ve heard cruel things being said about you after that day and to save your enrollment, you kept yourself quiet and pretended like you were unaware. except that you weren’t, so every time you make eye contact with someone and they start whispering to their friend or something, it only adds up to that pool of anger that was slowly building up from the pit of your stomach.

still, you couldn’t bring yourself to blame wonyoung for it all. you were part of the act as much as she was but you also can’t say that you brought all this attention and rumors to yourself. you blamed the other girl’s stupid reputation, actually. but it’s not like you can rewind time and make yourself leave that goddamn room when you thought wonyoung was never going to come. there was no point in dwelling on it now. it happened and you have to live with the consequences. being talked about isn’t half as bad as the threat of your scholarship getting revoked anyway.

you were right on the other side of the building when you realized you had no idea where you wanted to go. you just wanted to get out of that classroom, away from wonyoung’s sights so she can’t have you acting up in front of everybody. not that you would actually be able to make stable eye contact with her anyway. naturally, you found yourself marching towards the washroom. you were nearing to the door when you heard a few girls chattering lively.

you entered the washroom and there stood in front of the mirror were kim jiwon and shim jayoon—your acquaintances and wonyoung’s super smart best friends from one of the science programs. they were the last people you wanted to see face-to-face and for good reason! as soon as they saw you, they squealed and grabbed your arm, yanking you to stand in front of the mirror with them. “there’s the woman of the hour!” jiwon teased, lightly pinching your cheek.

“more like woman of the week—literally nobody is shutting up about you! this must feel like heaven.” jayoon nudges your arm, firmly believing that you liked all of the attention you were getting when you really didn’t. you would do anything to be invisible again.

“is this really what it feels like to be popular? i hate it,” you grumbled, earning a sigh from jayoon. “i don’t know how you guys ever manage.”

“you have an outdated opinion about all of this, baby girl! don’t you like having everyone’s eyes on you? now they’ll see how much of a pretty little thing you are—it’s great!” jiwon said. no, she was not very successful in convincing you that this wasn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened in your academic life so far. but you decided that you wouldn’t fight her on it and instead, stand idly between the two girls while they gossiped and twirled and played with your hair.

you were completely signed off from the conversation; the only thing in your mind was the feeling of wonyoung’s hands in your hair while she kissed you. unconsciously, you touched your lips with your fingers. fuck.

“oh, you’ve got it bad, huh?” jiwon teases.

“hey, don’t blame (y/n)! wonyoung’s a good kisser—i’d miss her lips too,” jayoon sighs dreamily. then she gasps and grips your forearm tightly. “do you want to fuck her again?” she asked with shiny eyes.

“w-what?!”

“where’d you get your information from, jayoon? wonyoung fucked her.”

“oh, right!”

you covered your face with your hands, “please stop talking.”

jayoon forcefully pries your hand off your face, “listen, gaeul-sunbae is having a party next week and we’ll be there with wonyoung! you should come! we’ll make sure to get you guys a room.” jayoon says with a wink. god, they’d let the two of you fuck in a house full of your schoolmates?! that would just add onto your world of troubles.

“i’m not going to any party and i’m never sleeping with wonyoung again, okay? i just—i want this all to end. i hate it when i’m looked at.” you gently wiggled yourself out of the two girls’ hold and once again marched towards the door.

“you shouldn’t have fucked her then.” jayoon says with a shrug as you reach for the handle, making you pause.

“she fucked me.” you corrected your friend before swinging the door open and exiting the washroom.

“yeah jayoon get your facts straight!” you heard jiwon laugh as you bolted out of the washroom. you rolled your eyes, shaking your head, and glaring at the first person you saw in the hallway. the person in question raised an eyebrow before turning to talk with his friend, eyes lingering on your leaving figure.

gosh, this school was a nightmare.

nevertheless, you survive the long walk back to your classroom without sparing another person a glance. did you bump into people because you absolutely refused to look up? yes! did you care? not at all. it was much, much better than dealing with the scrutiny in everyone’s eyes. apparently, sex was only a problem when the girl who wanted nothing to do with it actually did it. every time you remembered how everyone in the library looked at you after you and wonyoung left that private room, you wanted to scream. literally. all of the negative things that came after the event made you forget about the sweet stuff. like the way wonyoung insisted on driving you home, how she walked you to a bus stop when you refused to ride with her, how she patiently and wordlessly waited for your bus with you, and how she gave you a kiss on the cheek when your bus did arrive.

but what good was having wonyoung’s attention if everybody was also going to look at you, but in a worse light?

you knew it probably wasn’t fair, but you grew a tiny bit of resentment towards the popular girl.

you entered your classroom after a deep breath—eyes glued to the ground and hands hidden under the straps of your backpack. it felt like you were back in high school all over again. this sucked so bad. but unfortunately, getting to your seat was only a bumpy road! all you had to do was not look up and start reading material once you’ve sat down. it should be so easy. of course, fate had other ideas.

wonyoung had bumped into you while walking towards her own seat, forcing you to tear your gaze from the ground to look at her. oh, she was so pretty—no, (y/n)! “sorry.” wonyoung says with a cheeky smile. (she was excited that she finally got you to look at her. and as expected…) you blushed, merely looking away from the other girl before rushing to your seat. you heard a few giggles behind you which only confirmed your suspicions—it was definitely planned. it didn’t help that your cheeks and ears were flushed red… gosh, even your neck felt warm. you know what also didn’t help? how wonyoung’s intense gaze didn’t leave your figure for a while. you could feel her staring at you like you were some piece of meat for her to devour and you weren’t even exaggerating by saying all that!

it was the same kind of look she was giving you right before she kissed you that day. despite your resistance, you met wonyoung’s stare. you noticed that she was surprised to see you raise your head, but it looked like it pleased her more than anything. wonyoung tilts her head and smiles slyly at you while her eyes travel from your hands, your exposed thighs, to your legs… now who knew jang wonyoung could be such a pervert? you squeezed your thighs together, glaring slightly at wonyoung who merely giggled before finally turning around and facing the front.

things like that—wonyoung’s attention, her interest, her affection—were the only good to come out from that hook-up. the rest? the side-eyes, the rumors, the whispers, the unwanted popularity spike? you wanted nothing to do with it. but, again, it wasn’t like you could reverse time.

so, you were going to do what you’ve always been good at: hide yourself to the point of invisibility. it’s never failed you before, and it shouldn’t now.

the only challenge was jang wonyoung herself—will she let you out of her sight?

you didn’t want to think about the most obvious answer. instead, you tried your damned hardest to not think about her at all for the rest of the day. you poured all of your attention to the lectures, the coursework, and the notes. basically anything just to avoid hearing her voice in your head again. at least it wasn’t as bad as the first few days after she fucked you. during those times, you quite literally replayed the entire thing in your head every minute. it wasn’t surprising that you ended up failing a few small quizzes around that time.

when you’ve put every belonging you had in your backpack, you practically rushed to get up from your seat and headed to the door. avoiding every eye that latched onto your figure. you successfully passed wonyoung’s seat without trouble until…

“ah, (y/n)! finally, i can talk to you.”

ms. lim, the professor for your last class of the day, calls you. you turned around with a tight-lipped smile on your face, reluctantly walking closer to the teacher’s desk while most of your classmates walked out of the door. wonyoung was still in the room. she was staring. fuck, why is she always staring?!

“i wanted to thank you for all the help you gave last week for jiyoung’s little… ‘art for amateurs’ club.” ms. lim sighed at the name (she has always hated it but ms. kim jiyoung, her fiancé, loved it too much to change it) and smiled up at you.

“no need for thanks, ma’am. i was passing by the art room that day and i just thought i’d help.” you hear a few people shuffle behind you. more students walking out. a flash of pink walks by behind you. wonyoung. you blinked and smiled at the professor, acting as normal as you could.

“if you don’t mind, i need you to do another favor for me,” ms. lim opens up one of her drawers and carefully takes out a lunch bag from it. the professor smiles sheepishly at you. “i hate to ask my students to do little chores like this. but i’m going to be preoccupied with grading and lesson plans for the rest of the day and that idiot jiyoung forgot to grab her food from me.”

you chuckled lightly, “hard to imagine ms. kim of all people would forget about her food. i’ll take it to her, no worries.” you carefully held the lunch bag in your hands and smiled at your professor.

“thank you, (y/n). she’s been all over the place lately! worrying about this one special pupil of hers that she’s practically begging to put up a piece of her work in the walls of the art building. it’s a whole thing, i won’t bore you about it. run along.” ms. lim waves you off with a laugh. you bowed to the professor before happily exiting the classroom with ms. kim’s lunch bag in hand. when you left the room, you saw that the hallways were still quite full with students lounging about—looks like it wasn’t going to be an easy walk to the fine arts building but oh well.

the first hurdle was squeezing through a crowd of jocks from different teams creating a ruckus in the middle of the hallway. the second struggle was nearly getting picked on by said jocks when they just so happened to notice you sneaking by. thankfully, a nice cheerleader with red hair diverted their attention so you could slip away. it was a quiet and pleasant walk along the school courtyard towards the fine arts building from there, with only the wind and soft rustling of leaves accompanying you.

the building was quiet, save for your own footsteps. usually, the hallways would be filled with sounds of casual chatter and the muffled voices of instructors and students alike. you had to say though, you much rather preferred the silence. it was comforting. you were usually surrounded with a lot of yelling, hollering, and laughing which sometimes wasn’t all that bad but considering everything that’s been happening the fast few days… yeah, this was preferable.

it didn’t take long for you to reach ms. kim’s classroom, and there you were met with a vast empty room littered with half-finished paintings and beautiful illustrations created by the students and ms. kim herself. there was a backpack and a big canvas set near the back of the classroom but you pay it no mind. it was common for students to stay after school hours just to kill time or work on their projects. you put down the lunch bag on ms. kim’s desk, all the more ready to turn around and leave when a particular painting caught your eye.

it wasn’t anything special by any means. in fact, it was buried behind more colorful paintings and you could only see half of it. you approached the painting, looking around the other canvases just to see it in full. it didn’t look finished, but then again maybe that was part of the appeal. the painting was that of an arrangement of beautiful flowers in a jar, they were wilting. or maybe they were just coming to life, looking at the soft streams of sunlight that shone down on them.

regardless, you didn’t have the luxury to analyze the painting any further when you heard shuffling behind you. alarmed, you turned your head quickly and… well, fuck.

“wonyoung…”

the tall girl clad in pinks and blues smiles at you. it wasn’t a very comforting smile.

“the one and only,” well, that sounded familiar. you watched as wonyoung threads the ends of her hair using her dainty little fingers. a smirk dances on her lips while she stares you down, very much liking how she has rendered you speechless with her mere presence. a bit of a dramatic statement but it was true! “how’d you like my work?” wonyoung asked, eyes quickly flickering over to the flower painting behind you.

you followed her stare, but quickly looked back at her in shock. “you painted that?” you gasped.

“you make me sound like i’m just a stupid bimbo,” wonyoung sighs dramatically. “of course, i painted it. would anyone else’s work look as gorgeous?” ‘charming’ as ever, wonyoung flips her hair over her shoulder with a smug look on her pretty face. you turned away, very quickly rolling your eyes before settling them back on the painting. you were impressed. you wouldn’t have guessed that wonyoung of all people would have that kind of talent, but then again, she is one of the class-toppers and nobody knows who she is exactly.

“it’s beautiful.” you admitted. you heard wonyoung chuckle, but she doesn’t say much else. you don’t look back at her, choosing to stare at her painting instead. again, something stopped you from looking further into it. wonyoung stood beside you, briefly looking at her painting with a somber look on her face before quickly covering it up with her usual cheeky, queen bitch smile. it was dead silent. did you even want to speak to her? for two weeks, you’ve resented all the attention that was given to you because of her. you’ve glared at the back of her head, cursed her in your mind whenever some students whispered about you… but somehow, you’re the one who’s tongue-tied now that you were actually alone with her.

it was confusing—feelings, that is. hell, the last real face-to-face interaction you’ve had with her was on that day. when she kissed your cheek before you got on your bus.

“wasn’t expecting you to be here, (y/n),” wonyoung unzips her pink jacket, slowly taking it off before putting it on an empty seat. you watched her from the corner of your eye, she was taking deep breaths and you could hear her. then she fixes her hair and turns around wearing a glowing smile. “but this is just perfect.” she steps towards you and instinctively, you jolted backwards.

“i-i just dropped something off for ms. kim… from ms. lim, i mean. i should get going.” well, it wasn’t going to be easy! what with wonyoung being inside your personal bubble and your heart beating so fast that you can’t quite hear your own thoughts. it didn’t help that she towered over you, and again, her perfume was a fucking weapon—rendering you immobile.

“don’t be like that, (y/n). i’m upset with you.” wonyoung says with a pout. cute, but you really shouldn’t let your stupid crush on her stop you from just getting the hell away! wonyoung was fascinated with the way your eyes wandered. she knew that no matter how angry you were with her, she was always going to have the same effect on you. and it was delicious. being able to have that much of an impact on someone. 

“you never called or texted me. i was waiting, especially after i sent you home,” wonyoung stands even closer and for a second, you actually saw some kind of emotion in her eyes. dissatisfaction, perhaps. “didn’t know you were like that, (y/n).”

“i d-didn’t even think you’d want me to contact you after… after all of that.”

“i wouldn’t have given you my number if i didn’t want you begging for more of me over the phone, dumbass.” wonyoung bumps your shoulder with her own as she walks past you. the way you looked (confused and… so fucking stupid) must’ve made her pissed, judging by the way she started dragging her equipment around with her eyebrows furrowed and eyes glaring at you every now and then. you stood there awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of your uniform. you should really leave. you had things to do at home! this wasn’t a time to waste with someone who was mad at you and someone you were mad with.

all it takes was a period of silence to remind of how much wonyoung affected your life. and suddenly all the anger was back. the longer you stood there and looked at her, the more it boiled up and threatened to tip over. but you were going to be mature. you were going to leave the classroom and go on with your life, leaving it all (wonyoung) behind.

“i have a few ideas on how you can make it up to me though.” wonyoung averts her gaze from the empty canvas in front of her to you.

given the way she was looking at you—or rather, has been looking at you, wonyoung was up to no good. and if you wanted any chance to redeem the little reputation you had in this academy, you had to be strong and not get swayed by her and her pretty little face and those soft lips and that mesmerizing pair of eyes. you shook your head, “i am not fucking with you again, wonyoung.”

the taller girl laughed, “what? did it look like i was going to make you do that? gee, (y/n), it takes one hook-up to corrupt you, huh?” wonyoung laughs, a smirk making its way to her face when she sees you glaring daggers at her. “you’re going to be my muse.” she says, crossing her arms and scanning you up and down. gosh, she didn’t even bother to hide the lust behind her stare… but you could tell that her statement wasn’t a joke.

“you’re… going to paint me?” you asked. wonyoung hums, staring right at you as she pulled her hair up to a ponytail, quietly anticipating your answer while you stood idly by the windows.

“only reason i’m here is because ms. kim has been begging for me to put something of my own up in the hallways. usually i would just refuse but the lady’s been nice to me since i stepped a foot in this school so why not? plus, what’s a better subject than my latest and possibly most popular fling?” wonyoung gives you a very sarcastic smile that makes you roll your eyes. you seriously needed to get out of here.

you were more than ready to leave until you remembered the way wonyoung’s eyes looked when she confronted you about the silence you gave her. then a pang of guilt hits you the more you think about her actions after the two of you hooked up. the walking together, the waiting together, and the kiss on the cheek. maybe attempting to cut her off was a dick move on your part…

“okay.”

wonyoung’s face visibly lights up. adorable.

“where do you want me?” you asked, blushing at the sight of the cute look on her face. all of your activities can wait. you wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself knowing that you were potentially hurting someone. albeit unintentionally and the person in question being your best slash worst nightmare.

“just sit in front of me and we’ll figure it out from there.” and so, you and wonyoung get to work. well, of course it was mostly her doing the work while you just sat on a stool and listened carefully to whatever she told you. 

oddly enough, the weight of her stare wasn’t as intimidating or nerve-wracking like it usually was. wonyoung had a certain softness in her eyes as she studied your features closely, and every time you figured that she saw something she liked, something would sparkle behind those beautiful brown eyes. watching wonyoung in what seems to be her natural environment… well, ‘unexpected’ would be the understatement of the year. you figured it would be parties and social clubs and outlet malls but then again, nobody really knew wonyoung.

getting so much as a glimpse of the untouchable popular girl was truly something. and despite everything that’s happened you find yourself feeling the way you did the first time you laid eyes on her on campus during freshman year. awestruck, with your heart nearly beating out of your chest as you desperately tried to look at something that isn’t her but ultimately failing. wonyoung gives you a smile, and it wasn’t her usual cheeky-teasing one. she looked… bashful? and is that a hint of pink on her cheeks?

it was strange to see, but you ended up smiling a little at the sight of a rare cute wonyoung. the tall girl’s cheeks show a deeper shade of pink as soon as your lips curled up in a smile, making you giggle a little. not a lot of words were shared between the two of you after that as wonyoung completely immerses herself in her work. and during that entire time you just stared at her, admiring her focused state. you wondered if she was concerned at all about making a mistake—her hand moved skillfully across the canvas with the attitude of someone that was sure about their abilities. you would hear an occasional tut partnered with a quick hum and followed by a quiet, satisfied laugh, giving you the impression that wonyoung was confident about the picture she was painting of you.

you’ve never been more curious in your life. you wanted to know how wonyoung sees you. it would be from an artist’s perspective but maybe you’ll see even a spot of how wonyoung truly sees you deep inside. especially after everything that has gone down between the two of you, and especially after her reaction to you forcing yourself to forget her existence for two weeks. it’s not like you were looking for any chance of the popular girl returning your feelings, you just wanted to know if you were anything to her at all. maybe you’ll get to know it here.

“(y/n),” wonyoung snaps you back into reality. she beckons you over with a proud look on her face. “come over here. see if you like it.”

soon enough, you were standing beside wonyoung, staring at the most impressive painting in the room. it was you; sitting on that stool wearing a gentle smile, but almost half of your entire form was covered by a slightly see-through curtain and the tiniest streams of sunlight. at first glance, the painting looks incomplete or rather, abruptly finished but it looks perfect in your eyes. and on wonyoung’s eyes too, judging by the way she looked at her own work with approval.

“it’s beautiful, wonyoung.” you said with a grateful smile.

“mhm. it’s y—” wonyoung pauses, and clears her throat. “obviously.” she said, chuckling awkwardly and flipping her hair over her shoulder with less flair than usual. you did not know what the hell that was all about. (“it’s you.” wonyoung wanted to say. but she bit her tongue real quick. why? well, jang wonyoung was not one to try to woo a nerd of all things like that! but really though—it’s you. of course it’s beautiful.)

you were admiring the painting some more and the longer you did, the more you noticed just how many details wonyoung put into it. from the slight crinkle of your eyes while you’re smiling down to that tiny little scar you had on your right cheek. amazing.

“w-wait, you’re going to put this up in this building?” you asked, now blushing wildly. it’s not even that you were embarrassed of having your face put up in the fine hallways of this campus (there have been many instances of your face being plastered everywhere because of your very impressive achievements as an honor student). it’s the fact that wonyoung was involved in all of this that makes it all complicated.

“no.”

surprised, you looked at wonyoung with slightly widened eyes. she worked hard for this painting for the sole reason of putting it up, and now she won’t? maybe she sensed your discomfort at the thought of putting up a painting of you made by wonyoung, which you know would just repeat the never-ending nightmare of being surrounded by rumors all over again. you would ask the tall girl to give you a reason why, but you noticed that she was standing closer to you now, eyes darkened and very much drawing you in.

just like last time.

“for my eyes only.” wonyoung says quietly. she was referring to the painting, sure, but she was looking at you the entire time. the implication makes your face heat up, and suddenly you’re finding it hard to do anything else except to just stand there. obnoxiously close to wonyoung with your eyes constantly flickering up and down from her eyes to her lips. you remember what those lips taste like, how they feel moving against yours. what you would give to feel and taste them all over again.

“i need a break,” wonyoung’s gaze pierces through your own, inviting you in. “don’t you?”

and all it took was the slightest nod of your head for wonyoung to lock your lips in a searing kiss with her own.

god, it felt like your chest collapsed within itself. your hands immediately cup wonyoung’s cheeks, and having learned a few things from the last time you kissed her, you were much, much better at keeping up with her despite your heartbeat running a mile a minute. wonyoung’s own hands were on your hips, pulling you closer until she started undoing the ribbon on your uniform. then, she unbuttoned your shirt, forcing herself out of the kiss and putting her lips on your neck as she did so. it was hard trying to keep yourself quiet with the way wonyoung nibbled and softly sucked on your skin�� which was why you just stopped trying.

“ahh… mhm, wonyoung…” your moans were met with a hum from the taller girl, whose kisses now reached your chest.

“you missed me, didn’t you?” wonyoung whispers against your skin, leaving a mark just below your collarbone where she likes it best. she tilts her head up, lips hovering over your own, only touching slightly. “you missed mommy?”

fuck, that was gonna do you in.

too embarrassed to truly admit it all, you nodded, which earned you a pout mixed with a glare from wonyoung. “i’m gonna let that go once. you’re lucky i missed you more.” eventually, you found your waist pressed against a lone desk while wonyoung continues to kiss you. you were topless now, what with wonyoung discarding your white shirt somewhere on the floor.

“w-what if ms. kim comes in…?” you asked when you felt wonyoung’s hand sliding up your thigh. surely she won’t be as careless as last time, right? the two of you were barely hiding! the curtains didn’t leave much to the imagination and the door was only halfway closed… if you weren’t careful with your mouth, some unlucky soul passing by will catch the two of you and you really don’t know if you can handle more of that. maybe you were naive to expect wonyoung to change within two weeks, because right after you asked your stupid little question, wonyoung had pulled down your panties and unclasped your bra from behind. goodness, she works fast.

the tall girl decided not to waste time and completely disregarded your question. “up.” she taps your hip, urging you to sit on top of the desk behind you. as you were getting yourself settled, wonyoung takes the opportunity to stare at you. you were as cute as ever—flushed cheeks, messy hair, lips quivering, and pretty eyes glossy with anticipation, even though you tried to disguise it with uncertainty. wonyoung couldn’t believe how easy it has been to knock down your defenses. she was so sure that even she, the jang wonyoung, was going to get rejected and embarrassed for the very first time in that library, given your reputation as a hardass.

but alas, she always gets what she wants in the end. as she should!

you pull wonyoung closer, eager to feel her lips on yours again. then she allows you to kiss her, doing the same exact thing as last time—staying still and letting you do what you want. wonyoung noticed that your kiss was softer, more careful. you were holding her face so gently, caressing her cheek with your thumb before letting your hands fall to her shoulders, giving the control back to her. it warmed her heart in a way that took her by surprise, but that was nothing compared to the pure amusement she felt when she caught you untying her ribbon.

“you’re brave today, hm?” wonyoung whispered with a smirk. she doesn’t stop you, though! she holds your stare as you let her ribbon drop to the ground, and then you start unbuttoning her shirt so excruciatingly slow. you stopped halfway through, only getting to see a little bit of wonyoung’s crimson red bra before putting your lips on her neck. and finally, for the first time, you heard her whimper.

you couldn’t see it as you were busy kissing her neck, but wonyoung was a blushing mess. she never whimpers! but with your sudden courage and the way you left the softest and sweetest kisses on her neck, wonyoung couldn’t hide it. “are you… marking me up?” wonyoung asked with a giggle.

immediately, you stopped, staring at her with half-widened eyes. “is that okay…?”

wonyoung would’ve called you stupid if the sound of her own loud heartbeat didn’t render her speechless. “don’t tell me you’re going to ask for permission if you so much as want to put your hand on my waist or something.” wonyoung said. she can imagine it clearly in her head, actually! you were too polite for your own good.

“well, consent is important—”

“yeah, yeah. how about you use that pretty mouth of yours for something worth my time, dummy?” wonyoung urges you to kiss her again, craning her neck to give you access. and you did it happily! you were so obviously excited that even wonyoung thought it was endearing, laughing lightly as you gently sucked on her soft skin. you did that for a while. how could you stop, anyway? the mix of wonyoung’s sighs, feeling her thin, dainty fingers smoothly threading your hair, and her other hand laying still on your thigh, squeezing ever so often when you do something she likes… well, suffice to say that it was almost impossible to stop.

leaning back, you stare at your work. the sight of your marks on wonyoung’s neck only made your core buzz, making you not-so-subtly close your legs. wonyoung regains her composure, eyes darkened once again before she forces her legs open, one hand slowly sliding deeper up your inner thighs while the other keeps your legs apart. “since you’ve had your fun… naturally, it’s my turn now, correct?” and of course you were nodding your head eagerly like an obedient pet, just how she likes it.

your breath gets caught in your throat when wonyoung cups one of your breasts in her hand, her face dangerously close to the other one, more than ready to pleasure you. “i was thinking of being nice since i missed you… but you made me upset with your stupid tantrum over the last time we fucked,” wonyoung feigns a smile and a shiver runs down your spine. “so, to truly make it up to me… you’re going to take  everything i’m giving to you today.”

scary. terrifying even, but how could you say no? the (y/n) of two hours ago would be really disappointed of you but fuck it. wonyoung’s got you wrapped around her finger once again and you’re going to let it happen again.

only moans escape your lips as wonyoung’s warm mouth closes around your nipple. a new sensation, and it was wonderful. you found yourself hugging wonyoung’s neck, pushing her face impossibly closer while she licked and sucked as she pleases. your cunt clenches around nothing, and you buck your hips slightly just to urge wonyoung to touch you down there even a little bit but you should’ve expected that she wouldn’t care about that. her hands were rather busy! one played with your other nipple while the other held your thigh in a grip so tight that it almost hurt.

wonyoung releases your nipple from her mouth, her lips now attacking your chest area with little bites. you weren’t opposed to it. in fact, the frustrated look on wonyoung’s face was a delight to see! “should’ve known you were going to be a pussy about it all… wouldn’t have waited up all night for your text if i did.” wonyoung tightens her grip on your thigh, making you wince. but the pain was quickly overshadowed by pleasure as the tall girl pulled on your nipple.

“how was i supposed to accept that you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore…? you were screaming my name so sweetly in the library… and i was in your head after all of that, right?” wonyoung briefly lets go of your thigh to pull your hair down, forcing you to meet her eyes. “i know you did… in the end, the campus’ smart goody-two-shoes is just a fucking slut in the making, isn’t she?”

wonyoung’s eyes shine with excitement upon seeing you look at her so desperately. she knew that you’d never take any insult if you were in your right mind… and it only turned her on when you said nothing to her, your head so clouded that you’d allow wonyoung to say anything she wants to you. the tall girl spreads your legs apart, staring at your glistening pussy before her hungry eyes pierce back into your own. “and to think that you wanted to leave when you’re all drenched like this! what would you have done if i let you go? surely not touch yourself,” wonyoung laughs, but it was a cold and mocking one. your cheeks flush with embarrassment since she was right—you can’t bear to touch yourself, which is why you’re so desperate to have her fuck you already. “you need me, and i want a pretty doll i can play with however i like. let’s help each other out, (y/n)-ah.”

wonyoung doesn’t wait for you to say anything (of course she doesn’t) and starts massaging your clit with her thumb. you gasped at the sensation, holding onto her arms and almost closing your legs up. you try to control your sounds this time around, all that left your mouth were the usual pathetic whimpering and panting but at least you weren’t loud! wonyoung didn’t like that, though. she presses her thumb harder against your clit, making you whine loudly. “that’s more like it.” the tall girl muttered under her breath. the longer she pleasured your clit, the sooner you were losing control of yourself. and eventually you were just giving into what your body wants—grinding against wonyoung’s hand, pulling her closer so you can kiss her…

you gasped sharply as wonyoung plunged her two fingers inside your cunt, and she was giggling at how you were wrinkling her shirt up due to how tight you were holding onto her. fuck did it feel good to be filled up. when wonyoung curls her long fingers inside you, you clamped your hand over your mouth, afraid of alerting anyone who may be lurking around. annoyed, wonyoung swats your hand away, “come on, i don’t want to punish you so early.” none of what she was saying went through to your head. and it wasn’t even because you were trying to be a disobedient brat but because of her pace.

she snaps her wrist with each thrust, enough to make sure that you feel every inch of her fingers inside you before pulling out. it was hard to focus on anything, even more so when wonyoung’s pretty brown eyes were raking all over your body, getting familiar with your features once again. it wasn’t everyday something catches her eye so easily, but when she entered that secluded room in the library and had the luxury of staring at you while you were asleep, she was charmed. not even she thought that she would have you on top of this table merely two weeks later—writhing under her touch and moaning her name, but wonyoung quite liked this outcome.

why, after you were so good for her the first time she fucked you, you’ve been on her mind!

“a-ah..! wonyoung…” your sweet voice snaps the tall girl back to reality. you’ve completely wrapped your arms around her neck now, how precious. wonyoung puts her lips to work, wanting to taste your skin once again. and that she does! giving you kisses from your cheek, to your jawline, to the crook of your neck and all that the way down to your chest. conveniently, the desk was long enough for wonyoung to be able to pull you down so you’d be lying back comfortably. she towers above you, a grin on her lips as she watches you try to hold on to your climax.

it was so glaringly obvious that you were close. with the way your walls clenched around wonyoung’s fingers, a few more thrusts should do it. and that made wonyoung way more upset than you can imagine. there was no way you were going to make this so short, right? but she feels it. not only have you dug your nails on her free wrist trying to hold onto her, you’ve also started whining very loudly. wonyoung, annoyed, wriggles out of your painful hold and shoves her thumb inside your mouth, effectively shutting you up. drool starts dripping down along your jawline—wonyoung wasn’t going to let you off easy judging by how she pressed her thumb flat and hard down on your tongue.

“we’re gonna make this last, baby,” wonyoung says. she sees the tears pooling in your eyes and it only makes her feel warm inside. she was getting so excited to have her way with you, and a few tears wouldn’t stop her. “and everyone’s going to know again. i know you don’t like that but this time… they’ll know you’re mine.”

wonyoung didn’t plan on saying that last part out loud but thankfully enough, you were way too busy moaning her name to even hear it. a knot tightens in your stomach and you gasp, the sensation becoming all too familiar with you now. wonyoung pulls her thumb out of your mouth and slowly slides a third finger inside your cunt—and then there it was.

“aww…” wonyoung cooed as you came all over her hand. but she doesn’t stop any of her movements. instead, she leans down, catching one of your nipples with her mouth and continuing on fingering you through your orgasm.

“f-fuck..! wonyoung, w-wait…!!” you clawed helplessly at her back. amidst your hopeless whining and moaning, wonyoung just giggles. her eyes flicker up to get a brief glance of your face, her own core clenching at how tight you’ve closed your eyes, how you’ve bitten your lower lip to the point of it hurting. she absolutely loved getting to see you undone piece by piece… even more so when you allow it to happen. which is what you finally do as you bury your hands in wonyoung’s hair, pushing her further down your chest and whimpering sweetly at every flick of her tongue on your nipples.

wonyoung wasn’t letting her hand rest, however. she keeps fingering you in a semi-fast pace, hoping to edge you closer to another orgasm. clearly, she was taking advantage of your dazed state and in all honesty, of her own adrenaline-driven state. in her right mind, she would have let you cum the first time and stop there since she knew you can’t handle too much of what she can really give you but god… wonyoung just has to see you fall apart completely under her.

“someone learned a few things from last time, hm?” wonyoung teased as she gently massaged your clit in circles with her thumb. “you’re taking it so well. good.”

you gasped loudly as she plunges her fingers knuckle-deep inside your walls again, now thrusting faster than ever. wonyoung completely gets lost at the feeling of your warmth around her fingers. with her towering above you, she was distracting enough for your mind to wander elsewhere. every so often you’d notice the way she slightly bit her lower lip, whimper quietly, and huff as she fucked you… and as your eyes trail down lower (as low as you could, anyway), you saw that the tall girl had been clenching her thighs together. gods, wonyoung looked so hot being desperate like this.

it made you blush, how much she wanted to feel as good as she was making you feel good. next time, you are going to make sure to return the favor. it was what she deserves, as much of a pain in the ass she was.

“are you okay, (y/n)…?” wonyoung, concerned that you have spaced out, asked. her thrusts have slowed and her eyes are now softer.

you nodded meekly, “yes, mommy.” the nickname slipped out so naturally that it caught wonyoung off guard. and was she… blushing? flustered, even?

(wonyoung wouldn’t even know where to start if someone were to ask about the hold you have on her. it almost sucks that you don’t know about it, but wonyoung’s pride wouldn’t let her admit it outright. not yet, anyway.)

“we’re almost done.” wonyoung regains her composure. she completely pins one of your wrists down with her free hand, the other ramming inside your walls out of control, and her forehead nearly touching yours while you moaned helplessly. with your one hand, you clutched the edge of the desk, refusing to hurt wonyoung any further because you knew you would make her blood had you decided to hold onto her with the way she was abusing your pussy. wonyoung chuckles slightly at how smoothly her fingers went in and out of you—her hand was completely drenched in your cum and wetness. she was practically drooling at the thought of getting to taste you.

wonyoung would rather do it from the source, but she knew you wouldn’t be able to handle her mouth. not at this state. and not with all the things she wants to do to you with her tongue alone.

she feels you clenching around her again, and she watches as tears squeeze out of your eyes. she kisses them away, whispering some comforting words in your ear before she thrusts her fingers knuckle-deep inside you. wonyoung intertwines your fingers since she knew you’d need it as you came all over her hand once again. unlike last time, wonyoung makes sure her hand is still, only pulling out as you’ve started to calm down a little. your eyes wandered all over the ceiling, still trying to get a sense of things. you could feel wonyoung’s eyes on you though, but you couldn’t tell what she was doing.

so ‘surprised’ would be an understatement when you feel her clothed, wet cunt pressed against your knee. wonyoung smiles bashfully as she slightly grinds her clit on your knee. hell, she nearly fucked you into unconsciousness—she shouldn’t have anything to be afraid of doing now. even if she has to become this spectacle for you.

“j-just need to… do something about this.” wonyoung says. her voice was a bit higher from her whines, obviously feeling so good that she can’t help but show this new side of herself. underneath her, you were a bit rattled but completely flustered and quite confused as to what you should do. not that you could do anything, anyway. you couldn’t really feel your legs and your head was still getting itself situated. you were basically watching wonyoung grind herself into you… and it was heaven.

wonyoung meets your stare and grins, “liking the show, babe?” she teased. she giggled when you covered your face with your other hand, you were so red. but you were brazen enough to raise your knee slightly and pressed it against her clit, making her moan out loud for the first time. a smile of satisfaction spreads on your face—you finally heard wonyoung make that kind of sound!

“cheeky little doll.” wonyoung says before leaning down and kissing you. she stops her grinding, having had enough for now and slowly pulls you to sit up, carefully.

much like the last time this happened, nothing much was said afterwards. you were merely hugging wonyoung while you recovered, and you’d smile every time you felt her leave feathery-light kisses across your shoulder and draw random circles on your lower back. wonyoung allowed you to hold her for as long as you needed, never worrying about how the sky has turned orange or the supposed project she was assigned to start today for ms. kim. a gust of wind seeps through the slightly open windows and you shiver. 

finally, wonyoung pulled away. “let’s get you dressed up. ms. kim should be on her way anyway.” she helps you stand on both feet and picks up the random pieces of clothing scattered around the area, almost scolding herself for throwing them around haphazardly. wonyoung was the one who buttons up your shirt, makes sure your skirt is all nice and tidy, ties up your ribbon perfectly, and styles your hair as if it was never a mess. and then she decides that you would look cute with a bit of lip tint—but also because you needed a good excuse to give people if they so happen to ask you why your lips were so red and fucked up.

you stayed still as wonyoung dolled you up. it was strange though, because at this point, she has fucked you three times and you’ve bravely looked at her in the eye then but now you can’t. every time her eyes flicker over to yours, you blink and set them elsewhere. you can’t tell her about how your pussy clenches under her gaze. you can’t tell her that if she does something so simple as this, helping a fellow girl to look presentable, it turns you on. and it probably wasn’t even because nice-and-friendly wonyoung was a rarity! it was because of that damn crush. and how you can still feel her hands all over you but ugh, you’re so tired of coming to that conclusion. 

you get it: you are morbidly obsessed with how wonyoung makes you feel! god, can i be any more pathetic?

“you’ll text me this time, right?” wonyoung asks after she is done. she has also gotten herself look as perfect as she always does. 

“i can’t exactly escape you now, can i?”

“mhm! glad you’re aware of that.” wonyoung puts on an exaggerated smile, but really, she was excited. 

you then pulled out your phone and sent wonyoung a simple ‘hi’ text message. “there. happy?” you mimicked her fake smile.

“ecstatic, actually.” wonyoung replied with a straight face as she stared blankly at your useless message. she saves your number and suddenly snaps a quick photo of you without warning, setting it as her contact photo for you. when you tried to sneak a peek, wonyoung moved away from you with a laugh, and saved your name as ‘dum’ on her phone, even waving it all over your face and laughing even more at your disgruntled reaction. how mature… and endearing.

when silence started to fill the air, you almost wanted to ask wonyoung a few things about this whole… thing. whatever it was. as much as you liked the whole doll talk earlier, you didn’t exactly understand it. were the two of you going to be friends-with-benefits now? well, more like barely-acquaintances-with-benefits. was wonyoung going to make a habit of cornering you at some isolated place and fuck you? because really, you‘d prefer a small warning before she starts using you. confused as you were, you didn’t let a word slip. you just stood there, watching wonyoung as she put up an empty canvas on the easel.

“is it okay if i rest for a bit before leaving?” you asked in a quiet voice. wonyoung nods as she pulls her hair up for a half-ponytail, only briefly looking at your figure as you walk past her to sit on the instructor’s chair at the front of the classroom.

“i’d insist on taking you home but you seem to adore public transportation.” wonyoung quipped from behind her canvas.

“you’d only find some excuse to touch me again in your car so yes, maybe i prefer taking the bus rather than that.” you replied. attempting to avoid thinking about wonyoung’s hands all over you while you sat on the passenger seat of her car was futile, thank goodness she was focused on whatever project she was working on.

“thanks for the idea.” oh you just knew wonyoung had a stupid smile on her face thinking about it all. that pervert!

although you would be lying if you said you weren’t into the idea, but that was something the two of you should save for much, much later.

for the rest of your time there, you merely sat on ms. kim’s chair. sometimes you watched wonyoung even though you couldn’t see much of her face. occasionally, however, she would peek from above the canvas to check on you and you wouldn’t look away like you usually would. you would hold her gaze, smiling softly before gazing at the setting sun outside. the only thing that was on your mind was how everything has changed now. whether it was for the better or for worse, you couldn’t tell yet.

there was no use dwelling on it. you simply have to see where things go. one thing was for sure though: jang wonyoung wasn’t going to be out of your life so easily.

you pondered on that chair for a while before you finally decided to leave. you promised wonyoung that you would text her as soon as you got home, and you knew that even though she barely gave you a glance since she was so focused, she was happy that you promised that. while you headed for the door, you felt wonyoung’s eyes follow you until you were completely gone. but even as you walked through the empty hallways once again the hair on the back of your neck stood on end and you found yourself stopping in your tracks completely on top of a flight of stairs.

“that… really all just happened. again.” you mumbled. ugh, your ears felt hot. your cheeks too. matter of fact, your entire body was just warm.

“what happened?” a chipper voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin. ms. kim has suddenly appeared beside you. you hadn’t noticed that she was already there when you turned to the corner.

“o-oh! ms. kim, hello,” you greeted, hand clutching your chest. “ah, right. i dropped off your lunch bag. ms. lim said you forgot it earlier.”

“really? thank you, (y/n). she must be very busy if she couldn’t visit me herself. i’ll make sure to tell her that you did well delivering my food.” the art teacher pats your shoulder. her smile was striking and infectious—no wonder ms. lim always looked so lovesick around her!

“no need. it’s no problem at all,” you glanced at the giant clock on the other side of the wall and felt panic rise from the bottom of your stomach. “my bus should be making its way to the stop now. have a good day, ms. kim!” and so you were off to running as fast as you could to catch your ride, leaving the art teacher baffled but quite amused at the stairs.

“never seen (y/n) a bit loose in the head like that before.”

inside the art room, wonyoung has gotten busy. the tiniest specks of paint decorated her face, her hands had become quite the mess but what mattered was the picture she was creating. she was quite surprised with herself. only earlier did she feel that familiar rush of creating something with efficiency—when she was painting you. she was feeling it again, and it was great. it has been quite some time before she felt that rush. as rich her mind was with concepts, wonyoung found it hard to materialize them in a painting for some reason. maybe she was just lazy. maybe the pictures in her head just weren’t clear enough.

but somehow you of all people—of all things, really—made it all so very clear.

“ah, the things a good pussy does to the human mind.” wonyoung laughs at her own words. she couldn’t wait to bother you all night long later.

“i knew it!”

once again, ms. kim has surprised a student. fortunately enough, wonyoung didn’t make a mistake and only flinched slightly. “hello, ms. kim.” the tall girl greeted. she doesn’t take her eyes off her canvas since she knew that the teacher was already sauntering towards her with that contagious energy she always has.

“wow. i half expected you to be struggling for inspiration as usual but you actually got somewhere!” ms. kim pats wonyoung’s head, very much satisfied at wonyoung’s progress with her work. oddly enough, wonyoung found herself blushing deeply letting ms. kim look at a personal piece from her so freely. not that she gave a fuck about keeping up her reputation even with the teachers, but jang wonyoung was nothing if not so stubbornly prideful.

because no! she cannot bear being teased about painting (y/n) (l/n) for the second time in the same day!

“is that…”

wonyoung’s blush get deeper. here it comes.

“she did say she came by this room… i see!” ms. kim laughs and nudges wonyoung’s arm, teasing the girl as if she was some kid who was having a crush for the first time in her life. incorrect, by the way! because jang wonyoung doesn’t do crushes. 

the art teacher leans back and allows herself to fully take in her student’s work. it was a beautiful painting of you, surrounded by orange and yellow colors, looking lost in thought as you gazed out the window. your face was slightly obscured by the curtain, similar to the previous painting of you that she has done. perhaps a clue as to how wonyoung truly sees you.

“never thought you’d want a muse, wonyoung! but she’s not just that, is she?”

wonyoung settles her palette and paintbrush on an empty stool, exhaling and stretching her sore shoulders. now, she wasn’t the one getting fucked but damn, did you exhaust her too! it was in the good way at least, so wonyoung can’t really be mad at you. with you in her sick little head, wonyoung offers a mischievous smile to her teacher, “my cute little secret is what she is.”

[superblysubpar]

Everyone say thanks to @palmtreesx3 - I owe her and the request for the prompt "we're not really just best friends, are we?"(which isn't even used in this, but you get the picture) and The Breakfast Club for this fic 💛

Sincerely, Yours:

bestfriend!steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: A movie night, a confession, an offer, your Calvin's bunched up on the floor of your best friend's BMW...and other places | my blog and this fic are 18+ Only, NSFW

the song: Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds

words: about 6,600

warnings: "inexperienced" reader - in the form of never really making out/receiving none/not great foreplay | mentions of masturbating for comfort/ease before sex | SMUT (public - in the back of Steve's car - "caught" by Hopper when you're done / oral / fingering / steve cums in his levi's cause I'm a sucker for doing this to him, what can I say?)

He didn’t hear it at first, over the last remaining popping kernels. 

“What?” He called around a mouthful of the snack he was already dipping into before it was finished. 

In the other room, your attention was strictly on Judd Nelson, but you tried again, with no real power or meaning behind the words. 

“Want me to pause it?”

“No,” he shook his head and rolled his eyes to no one but himself in the kitchen, “Don’t think you need to pause the movie I’ve seen three times…this week.”

“I’d love one, thanks!”

Steve snorted at your response that made no sense, it becoming apparent you weren’t listening to him at all.  He should have known this was his fate after the way you acted when it was showing at The Hawk. You saw it with him, then Robin, then Nancy, and Steve put his foot down when you tried to drag him down there for a fourth time.

Now here he was, dumping the popcorn into a large bowl and watching it again. He didn’t even know what number of views he was on with you, which had him worried about your sanity, ‘cause you had to be watching it without him too. 

Steve snagged two cans of Coke out of the fridge, assuming that’s what you’d love one of, and kicked the door closed with his heel. 

He cradled the popcorn bowl against his side and held each of the cans with one hand and spread fingers, socked feet slipping on the hardwoods when he rounded the corner and saw you again. 

Despite becoming incredibly bored by the movie, he did love watching you watch it, because somehow, it’s as if you’re watching it for the first time every time. 

Your white tube socks were stark against the dark wood of the coffee table, bunching around your ankles that led him to the exposed skin of your calves. Which led to the way your blue skirt fanned over your thighs all nice, then the Queen shirt he got you for your birthday tucked into it, your thumb between your teeth with your eyebrows bunched together. 

His best friend was really fucking pretty. 

He almost said it out loud, which had him flopping onto the couch a little quickly, a little too heavy with his fall. Careless in his aim of the cushion and causing popcorn to spill from the bowl into your lap as his shoulder jostled yours. 

Before he could even say sorry, you were grabbing the popcorn from your lap like it was the bowl, blissfully unaware it wasn’t, all the while making heart eyes at dreamy Bender.

“Thanks,” your appreciation came out heavy around the buttery and salty handful of the snack, the Coke you’d love sitting on the coffee table, already forgotten.

Steve hummed, his amused lips twitched in a losing fight against a smile at your captivated stare fixated on the screen. He suppressed an eye roll at the scene about to happen, as he swiped condensation off the cool metal of the can with his thumb. 

He popped the drink open with a loud hiss, slurping his first sip - a habit you’d normally swat at his chest for - but you were too busy focusing on the words about to leave Judd’s mouth. 

“Have you ever kissed a boy on the mouth?”

They sort of just tumbled out of Steve too, while his eyes glanced over the popcorn bowl, searching for a perfectly buttery piece. Which is why he didn’t see that he, your best friend, quoting the scene that has dialogue that got you all hot and bothered more than others, had your entire body freezing. 

Steve tossed the acquired piece into the air, catching it in his mouth before he turned to face your profile. He found you with widened eyes, chest rising and falling a little too quickly, and he grinned. 

“Have you ever been felt up…over the bra…under the blouse…your shoes off, hoping to god your parents don’t walk in?”

He’s simply delighted when he quotes the scene again and your body shifts, toes curling as you arched your neck away from. You kept your eyes on the screen, not giving him the satisfaction of eye contact because of what he was slowly, finally, realizing.

You were totally turned on and he couldn’t wait to tease you about it forever.

Steve leaned in closer, whispering along with the movie, “Over the panties…no bra…blouse unbuttoned…Calvin’s in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?”

He’s gearing up, about to tease you, make some dumb boy comment about being hot for the school freak, when your quiet, barely a breath response had him pausing. 

“No.”

Did you just say that out loud?!

Your head turned to find Steve blinking at you, creases in his forehead deepening beneath the stray locks of hair that fell forward. 

Looks like you did.

“Ste-”

“What? What do you mean no?”

Your eyes closed when you both spoke at the same time, avoiding his curious stare. Hands roamed to your cheeks to hide your face as your head fell towards your knees. 

As you shook your head no, your response gets muffled into your skirt. “I meant no.”

Steve’s hand nudged at your shoulder, prodding for clarity and for you to sit up. He failed to sound casual when his question came out incredulously.

“No, you’ve never kissed a guy?”

Your hands still covered your face as you fell back against the couch with a groan, “No, I..I have. I just…”

Steve pulled at your hands, his heart racing like it was overtime. All these years, he thought you’d been with all these other guys, his quiet jealousy seething under the surface of his tinged green from envy skin. 

A breath, well, more of a huff really, slipped past your lips as your gaze dropped to the hands holding yours in your lap. “I’ve never really made out with anyone? Just like…a quick kiss or two. I don’t even know, can you even count it as kissing? Over before it starts kind of thing…”

The ramble trailed off, the room silent save for the movie still playing and the giant, loud, big, fat, zero response from Steve. You counted the threads in the carpet, the pieces of popcorn in the bowl as your skin grew hotter and hotter from the reveal he’s left just hanging there until he  finally sputtered out a sorry excuse for one.

“Are you shitting me? We’re like…old.”

It doesn’t come out how he meant it to at all, he’s just shocked. He’s wincing almost immediately as the words reach his ears and brain, he knows how it sounded. He wishes he could take it back when your head whips up, hurt eyes meeting his as you ripped your hands away from him. 

“Yeah, Steve,” you scoffed, jaw pulsing as your voice dripped with sarcasm that tried to cover  the embarrassment, “I’m shitting you. Thought it’d be real funny to trick you into thinking your best friend is a loser who’s barely been kissed even though she’s so old.”

Pieces of popcorn fell from your lap as you stood, not letting yourself wonder where they came from as you stomped around the coffee table and towards his entryway. 

“No, honey, wait-” he stumbled after you, spilling Coke down the front of his shirt as he did, “Shit.”

He patted at his chest like it’d do anything, shirt damp and sticking to his skin as he rounded the corner and found you lacing up your converse and shaking your head. 

“It’s fine, Steve. I’m fine. I just don’t feel like talking about it. I’m gonna go home. Don’t worry about it. Girl stuff.”

“No, please, I didn’t mean-”

His words stopped just as abruptly as your body, when the front door swung open to reveal an out of nowhere downpour. 

Your head fell as you started to ask, and he was already one step ahead of you.

“Can you please-”

“I’ll grab my keys.”

He was tripping up his stairs by the time he finished saying it. When he returned, it was in a clean shirt, jumping from the second to last step as he swirled the keys around his pointer finger. 

The light blue fabric of his new shirt pulled at his shoulders that hunched when your glare remained unwavering despite the apologetic puppy dog eyes he had going for him. 

You understood Steve didn’t mean for the comment to start the hole he was digging, and you knew you weren’t being fair for being so upset. It’s not like it was his fault, it was just your own insecurities manifesting in an anger towards him. 

The nagging feeling of being some sort of freak who’d never made out while even the little twerps who clung to Steve were, while your best friend was Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High only grew stronger. The thought of Steve thinking you were some sort of weirdo for being old and never making out had something in your gut churning, had a familiar sting behind your eyes forming that you tried your best to ignore. 

When Steve opened his mouth, about to try to make it all better again, you simply turned on your heel and stalked out into the rain. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at the way you stomped through it, pretending to not be drowned. 

He quickly rushed behind you and got to the door first and swung it open, to which you rolled your eyes at, but slid in and got comfortable while he closed it for you nonetheless. 

Unsure why he went and changed as he raced around the hood and shot into the driver’s seat, totally soaked through to his skin now. He cranked the heat before swiping fingers over his eyes, a large hand ran through his hair and pushed it back only for it to fall into his eyes again. Steve reached over with wet and shaking fingers at the same time you held yours up, both of you pausing and glancing at the other’s hands. 

Steve was about to cup your fingers between his and blow warm breath onto them, just like he always did, but you ripped your hands down to your lap, and curled your body against the door, like you needed to be as far from him as you could be. 

Your damp forehead touched the cool glass of the window as he sighed, “Please don’t-”

“Just take me home, please?”

The tone in which the words were said has something in his chest breaking. Like you were really fucking sad, embarassed, it was a real plea to just take you home and leave you alone. 

So he wasn’t gonna do that, ‘cause he never was a great listener, so why start now?

He pretends though, he backs out of the driveway and heads in the direction of your apartment. He lets the radio fill the space and he turns the heat down when the air inside the car is heavier and warm despite your cold shoulder. The orange glow of the street lights slanted inside the car in a soothing rhythm as his wheels spun over the pavement until he was coming to the last four way stop before your apartment. 

It unfolds just as he had planned, when he’s still stopped at the deserted intersection, as your breath fogged up the glass when you asked, “Harrington, you planning on leaving the intersection anytime soon?”

His bottom lip wobbled as his teeth continued to press into it, thick fingers rubbing at a scruff dotted jaw as he thought out loud in an attempt to sway you. 

“Well, you see, I could go straight and take you home-” he started. 

“Right. Let’s do that.” You waved your hand towards the direction of the apartment that held the ice cream you were desperate to eat and wallow with while watching Pretty In Pink. 

“Or,” Steve interrupted right back, tapping on the steering wheel with his finger as he did, “I could go to the right. Pull into the diner. Buy you a milkshake and say sorry?”

The thing was, he was gonna go to the right regardless of your answer. He knew once you pulled into the parking lot there was no way you’d not at least go in and get fries and a shake, if not a whole burger. You’d done this dance before, him putting his foot in his mouth was not a new occurrence. 

Your lips twitched, but your arms stayed crossed as he hummed and whispered, “Tough choice…tough choice…”

Shoulders fell in defeat, but your mouth stayed downturned in a forced frown as you grumbled, “And fries.”

Steve smiled, turned on his blinker and nodded. He cleared his throat.

“And fries. Definitely.”

“And none of that you order yourself a vanilla shake and I order strawberry and you drink half of mine because it’s better and eat all the fries shit.”

“Of course,” Steve scoffed, “I would never do that.”

Steve slipped his straw into your shake, pulling the glass across the sticky tabletop as you did the same with his. He tried not to smirk around the straw when you did, dipping a fry in his vanilla he ordered for a reason despite the strawberry being better. 

“Do you think Claire is a prude for never doing anything?”

He shook his head no almost immediately, swiping at stray ice cream from the corner of his mouth with his tongue. 

You fiddled with the straw wrapped between your fingers and narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Would your answer be the same if, say, Eddie was sitting here asking you? Not me, your best friend, who you have sudden pity for?”

He blinked at you and sighed, “I don’t have pity for you.”

“Your mouth and your eyes are telling two different stories Harrington,” you waved a fry at him as you spoke, gesturing to his face with it. 

Your gaze stayed on the fry you were ripping in half, focused on watching it sink into the sweet vanilla as he dared to say, “I just don’t get it.”

“What, that I haven’t done that and I’m so old,” you tried to tease, to move past it. 

But the way you were licking salt off your finger had him wondering if he swiped his own through the salt on the tray and pushed the pad against your lips if they would part like they were now, if he could taste it on your lips if he just leaned forward and-

“No, ‘cause you’re so fucking pretty.” 

He definitely said it out loud that time. 

You blinked at him, cheeks suddenly too warm for the cold and damp Spring that had been surrounding you all day.  

“Ste-”

“And so smart,” he licked his lips, leaning forward, unable to stop now that it was out, “And funny. And…and sweet, you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know, I just don’t understand how guys aren’t falling over themselves, unable to do anything but make out with you, or more or-”

“I never said I didn’t do more,” you whispered, ignoring all of his compliments that made your chest feel all tight and sticky and choosing to argue with him instead because that was easier. 

“But you said…if you haven’t made out with anyone…” 

Your body slipped lower against the squeaky seat, embarrassed as you shrugged and Steve felt too hot in the tiny little booth, thinking about all those guys’ hands on you again, and then what you said, what it meant, really clicked. 

“Hold on…how…how’d…you didn’t, build up to it?” He asked softly, eyes bouncing over your face with worry. 

“Steve,” you grabbed for the other shake, and sat up straighter, “We don’t need to talk about this. It’s not import-”

“It’s so important,” he grabbed your hand and squeezed your fingers lightly, “Half the fun is all the build up to it. And,” he swallowed, forehead creasing with deeper worry, “And then it, it doesn’t hurt. ‘Cause tell me if I’m wrong, but if they weren’t making out with you, were they doing anything to make sure you felt good?”

You squirmed in your seat, fingers pushing up against his mindlessly, aimlessly, as you shrugged again. “It’s only hurt a few times. I learned that if I…um, If I got myself ready beforehand, that I was, uh, more comfortable.”

Steve’s fingers let go of yours with the excuse of grabbing a fry, because he was trying not to be a gross guy, but all he could think about was you in your bedroom, with your fingers between your thighs now. Did you play music? What song? Did you have underwear on? What color? With a shirt that your nipples were visibly hard through as you touched yourself and maybe it was his shirt or maybe you said his name or-

“Right,” Steve nodded, “Um, right. And that’s great, lots of people do that for a date, so like if you need or want to beforehand that’s not…that’s great. It just shouldn’t be the only thing, you know? They should be putting in the work, they should be wanting to. And dates! They should watch a movie with you, and dinner and drive around and then kiss so much you feel dizzy and then if you want, more.”

He finished his rambling speech and you smiled softly, unsure of what to say, because you knew he wasn’t wrong, it’s just that they had. 

“They did,” you sighed, “Well, not Paul.”

Steve scowled at the table, “Yeah, well, I’m sure you weren’t missing much. Who wants to yell out Paul?”

“Oh,” you laughed, “And Steve is so much better?”

He looked up at you, your smile sweet and kind and your eyes a little sad, but trying not to be and he wanted to say yes. He wanted to tell you that if it was those lips and that voice saying it, it was better, because how could it not be? Like his name only had the best letters, like it belonged to the best guy in the world, one that belonged to you and no one else. 

But you were swiping at ice cream on your lips and sighing, saying something that made his chest ache instead. 

“They were nice dates. And it’s not like the sex was bad. But,” you looked out the window, eyes tracking the droplets of rain twinged neon from the light hanging above you both, “The kissing till I’m dizzy sounds nice. Is it…is it fun?”

“Yeah,” Steve whispered, admiring the way the red and blue lit up your profile before you turned to face him. 

And then he was saying something before he really thought it through, because god you weren’t just fucking pretty, you were the most beautiful person he’d ever met and no way in hell was he letting anyone treat you the way you’d been ever again. So this was his chance, and he was taking the leap.

“I could…” he blew out a breath and smiled. He sat up straighter, and he searched for some sort of lingering king steve confidence he could latch onto without all the douche as he asked, “I could show you?”

To both of your surprise, you’d said yes, and he paid and you were in the car, driving, and parked somewhere in what felt like seconds. Now your best friend sat across from you, both of you facing the center console, but not daring to do more. 

The rain beat against the roof of the maroon car, each drop a punctuated tick of a nonexistent clock - a meter for how much time was passing without movement, without words. Just both of your breathing filled the space. First exhaling, then desperately inhaling for more air as your chests rose and fell ragged. And then, like in some unspoken agreement only best friends can have, you both started to lean forward cause you just knew. 

Your heart’s thrum threatened to drown out the rain, building and building, screaming to break out of your chest, pounding in your ears while your cheeks grew warm and your stomach dipped as Steve’s tongue slipped out quickly and wetted his lips. 

But then he leaned and his eyes started to close and you giggled, fingers slipping over your lips as his eyelids shot open. 

“Sorry,” you gasped and shook your head and your hands out as you tried to be serious, “Your ‘I’m about to kiss you’ face is real cute, Harrington.”

Tried being the definitive word. 

“Cute?” He groaned, smiling, “Not sexy?”

You leaned in, faster this time, a smile matching his as you shrugged, “It’s nice. Never thought I’d be on the opposite side of it, is all.”

It’s easy to tilt your head and welcome the hand that reached up to cradle your jaw as he softly promised, “Your ‘I’m about to be kissed face’ is really cute too.”

The pad of his thumb brushed over the apple of your cheek in the tenderest touch you’d ever felt, before his fingers curled under your jaw and tilted you gently, slowly, up so his lips were right over yours. 

It felt like he was handling you like the most precious and fragile thing, like a prized possession that he’d only ever hold with care and never let another soul touch. 

His breath fanned over yours, warm and sweet smelling, vanilla and cherry just out of reach for you to taste as you dared to quip back again. “Alright, I’m gonna have to cross reference these lines with other girls you’ve promised to make dizzy, Harrington, cause if that’s the first time you’ve used that, I’m afraid it’s far too smooth…”

Steve’s heart felt like it was trying to claw out of his chest as you laughed, smiling at him when he responded, “And, I think that’s enough out of you.”

Which you couldn’t help but reply back to with, “Yeah? Have some fancy trick to get me to stop talking?”

He laughed, low, muffled and deep in his chest. “A few.”

A sharp inhale slipped past your lips when his nose bumps yours, not realizing how close he’d gotten while you joked back and forth nervously. There wasn’t a protocol on how to let your best show you a proper make out, on how to just dive in and start, you just knew you wanted to. 

Steve’s swallow bobbed his adams apple as the leather beneath you creaked from shifting weight, needing to get closer. And as you did, his eyes found yours, mossy and dark in the low light, the browns and golds washed away in the rain. Their gaze flitted down to your lips, back up to fluttering eyelashes, and then his own eyelids were closing. 

All it took was another breath in, an exhale out, and his lips were on yours. A simple, slow press, holding your top lip between the both of his. Strawberry and vanilla teasing you, and soon he was moving, now bottom lip between his and you got it. Your mouths parted together, lips slotting in a rhythm that came naturally, that clicked. 

Something in your stomach fizzled and crackled like the sparklers you lit every year in his driveway on the fourth as the sigh from his nose hit your cheek. Body warm and sticky in a way that was usually reserved for Summer when his fingers skated over your jaw, up and around your ear, until they were cradling the back of your neck and pulling you closer. His mouth moved with yours in a way that could only be described as frantically graceful - needing more, hurried, hungry, but with the promise and precision of someone who knew what he was doing. It had your stomach dipping, like a freefall, like the greatest and scariest thing you’d ever felt. 

If he’d have opened his eyes, he’d have found you with your hands suspended between your bodies though. Fingers not quite brave enough to reach up and get lost in his hair, but not content to just sit in your lap and do nothing either. 

And if you'd opened your eyes, you’d have found his other hand gripping the center console like he was hanging on for dear life. ‘Cause holy shit was he trying to go slow, but kissing you was like chasing the last few minutes of sunlight in July - sweet and fleeting and magic - something you needed to make last, to soak up every last drop of until you couldn’t any more, not by choice, but because the sun has to set and he has to breathe.

In a shared gasp for air, you parted, but his lips were back on yours immediately, making your stomach swoop even more, like an entire family of butterflies had decided - hey, we live here now and we’re gonna make a ruckus so get used to it.

You didn’t mind. 

Steve’s fingers found yours and without breaking his rhythm, he tugged, guiding them to his shoulders that were practically on your side of the console now, which wasn’t doing something great to his already somersaulting stomach. 

He slowed down as your fingers brushed over and back on the collar of his shirt and his hands cradled both of your cheeks, pulling you off of his lips regretfully. You were both breathing like you’d run a marathon, his forehead pressed to yours as he gasped out, “Dizzy yet?”

“No,” you lied. 

He grinned, tip of his nose tracing the bridge of yours as he admitted, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like that.”

You couldn’t even respond, couldn’t tell him you wanted that too, couldn’t tell him that it was something you only dared let a daydream or two convince you it could happen before you were shutting it down, cause he was still talking. 

“And now that I have,” he swallowed, his thumbs glided down opposite sides of your neck as he shook his head, “I’m never stopping.”

Then he was kissing you again, and if you thought he was frantic before…

You had this feeling that even if those other guys had made out with you, kissing them wasn’t and never would be the same as kissing Steve Harrington. 

Soon one of your feet was on the seat, the other bracing yourself in the footwell. He had a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck and yours were finally starting to dare to journey past their spot on his shoulders and then your skirt was caught on the gearshift and he was stopping you again. 

“Honey, what are you doing?”

“So was that ‘never stopping’ just a nice sentiment or are you planning to back it up with action?” You huffed, distracted by pink lips that twisted into a crooked smile as he looked at your pretzeled body. 

Your shoulders fell as you nodded your head towards his side of the car and admitted, “I just want to be closer.”

“Oh, right.” Steve swallowed, and you wondered if it’d be weird if you kissed every freckle and mole you could find on his throat. Something told you he wouldn’t mind when he asked, a little more eager than you’d heard tonight, “Backseat?” 

And you clambered out of the car, the slowing rain soothing to heated and flushed skin under the mussed clothes, and then you were both meeting in the backseat, but the nerves returned. The way you both glanced at the space between you and were immediately and acutely aware of the lack of anything between you except doubt and fear. Was this a mistake? What about your friendship?

Steve looked at the space, at you, and then held up his finger in the symbol for one sec as he said, “Hold on,” and half climbed back into the front seat. His torso draped over the console as he loudly opened the glovebox and rummaged around inside, before he was fiddling with the radio, and falling back into the seat. 

His cheeks pink, but his smile wide as he looked at you again. “Hey! I’m so glad we could do this tonight. You look beautiful. Ready to watch your favorite movie?”

“Wh-what?” You laughed, totally and utterly confused. 

He tugged on your fingers, and pulled you to the middle, until you were slouched next to each other, shoulders touching as he shushed and said, “The Breakfast Club is starting.”

And the music playing over the radio,Simple Minds, a cassette he must have put in, had your chest swelling with something that was sure to burst and explode and kill you, because the boy was actually pretending you were on a couch, on a date, in a living room, watching a movie - it was perfectly Steve and you, and the best first date you’d ever been on. 

His left hand picked up yours, resting it on your thigh and played with your fingers. The pads of his traced up and down and over your hand as he stared at the windshield, his temple resting against yours. The music played, and his fingertips swooped between the curves of each finger aimlessly, the sides of his fingers running down yours and back up making it really hard to concentrate on the non-existent flick. 

When you finally relaxed into his side, when you flipped your hand over so he could draw little loop de loops on your palm, he quietly asked, “Who’s your favorite?”

“Brian,” said without hesitation. 

Steve groaned, in pain, “Ugh, you would like him the best.”

You laughed, turning to look up at him a bit from where your head had fallen to his shoulder, “Don’t knock him Steve,” you spoke softly, fondly, “You’re a lot more of a dork like him than you think.”

Steve made a pft noise, fingers now interlaced with yours as he turned his head, the tip of his nose touching yours as he looked down at you with the sort of look the guys give the girls in the movies, one that should be illegal from the way it had that family of butterflies shouting about their presence again and fluttering around. 

“Hey Steve?” 

“Hmm?” He hummed, eyelashes fluttering as he sighed when your thumb brushed over his knuckles.

“This is a really great…first date?” You asked, hopeful that it wasn’t just an offer, that you weren’t some game, that the guy next to you was just as crazy about you as you were him. 

“Yeah?” He smiled, proud, and then bragged, “Wait till the second one.”

It was your turn to hum, to look into his eyes and get a little lost as his mouth parted and you both scooted closer, waiting, as he squeezed your fingers wrapped around his. 

“You’re making the ‘I’m about to kiss you face’ again, Steve,” you whispered, lips brushing his as you did.

“Right,” he whispered back, bottom lip catching yours as he suggested, “Which means you should probably stop talking again.”

This kiss wasn’t as easy and smooth, made difficult by grins of fools who were totally in love but wouldn’t admit it just yet, but how could you both not be after years together?

But you smoothed it out quickly, and soon he was swiping his tongue over your bottom lip as his hand gripped at your waist a little tightly. He traced over your top lip as your entire body turned towards his, like a plant in search of sunlight, his body on yours fundamental to your survival.

He gasped as you straddled him, your mouth swallowing the sound as his hands roamed up your sides, taking the hem of your shirt with it so his fingers could scrape at the skin just under your ribs before they dared to drift along the band of your bra.  

You let out a sound that he’d never forget as long as he lived when you finally lowered yourself, skirt fanning over your laps so the sinful way he pressed up against your pristine soaked Calvin’s was slightly hidden. The unclip of your bra and the removal and toss over the seat was fluid, and you couldn’t think about it because the way his hand on your chest felt, the thumb over a pebbled nipple was something you’d only let yourself think about in moments of need before a date that wasn’t him. 

Steve was wrong, the build up was more than half the fun.

The way his hands buzzed against your spine like the air after fireworks, the way his tongue brushed yours, the way he couldn’t help but guide your hips to rock against him. Denim hitting cotton in the exact right spot so the nerves underneath it got the friction they were aching for, while your mind ran away from you, thoughts about how this was just getting started. How there was more. 

His lips left yours and his smile pressed to your jaw when the action got a soft whimper to fall from you. He tutted into your neck, lips grazing over an erratic pulse as he whispered, “Can I touch you?”

“Is that,” your breath hitched around the words as his tongue licked a thick stripe over your neck that extended, “Is that a part of making me dizzy or the more, when I’m sufficiently so?”

“You’re not yet?” His teeth scraped at where his tongue had just been. “I like when you say words like sufficiently, ‘s’hot.”

You laughed as his lips kissed the same spot, and then he was sucking, skin beneath his tongue warm and sending a message to your brain that you liked that a lot. 

“Yeah,” you hiccuped, eyelids fluttering in their view of the car’s roof as you arched and his hands gripped your hips, “Yeah, touch me.”

He didn’t have to be told twice, arm around your waist holding you steady while the other traveled under the hem of your skirt. His mouth moved to below your ear and as his fingers glided up your thigh. He sucked and kissed, and sent that message to your brain again, having you say his name and god’s in the same desperate sentence. 

Steve wasn’t gonna last much longer. 

Especially when his fingers met the wet cotton and you moaned, so much filthier than he’d have thought possible. Especially when he circled over your clit through the fabric and you rolled your hips with the movement, far dirtier than he thought you were capable of. 

“Fuck baby, you’re soaked.” He mouthed at the collar of your rucked up shirt, looking down at the way your hips rolled over his but he couldn’t quite see what was underneath. 

You hid in the crook of his neck, hot, and you didn’t know if it was because the windows were fogged and Steve was so fucking good at this or because you were embarassed by how turned on you were from his next words. 

“Please, I gotta,” he slipped a finger under the fabric and you shuddered as it ran down your slick and back up, “I gotta taste you. I need to put my mouth on you. Let me make you feel good, yeah?”

You were on your back, Calvin’s in a ball on the front seat, with Steve crouched between your thighs not even a minute later. 

Thick fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt from his spot, blown out pupils taking over his stare up at you. One of your converse pushed to the other side of the car against the door as your fingers curled around the base of the sweating window above you. 

Steve kissed your knee, and made his way higher between your legs slowly, until he was flipping your skirt up and swallowing as he stared at the space like it was a fucking artwork. 

You giggled, nervously under the intense awestruck stare, squeezing your eyes shut as he strained to get out, “Fuck, honey, you’re trying to kill me.”

He was mesmerized, the way you clenched around nothing, his thumbs spreading you so he could see just how wet you were for him. 

He was really not gonna last much longer. Straining in his jeans painfully like a teenager. 

And that was before you whimpered, before you said:

“Steve, please.”

“Only,” he swallowed, leaning down so his breath hit your cunt in a way that had your hips wiggling, and him closing his eyes, “Only cause you asked so nicely.”

His thumbs held you open, massaging the sides as his tongue licked once, slow and broad, following the path of his nose up to your clit. He did it again, and again, and again. Until his fingers were slipping inside of you, pumping in and out of walls that held him tightly and his mouth sucked at your clit. Then you tugged, forcefully at the curls at the back of his head and practically screamed his name. Like it was full of only the best letters. Like it was yours. 

Your stomach burned, the butterflies angry and in your chest now too, on fire, but happy about it. Steve’s fingers inside of you and mouth on your clit better than any orgasm you’d ever had, and you couldn’t help it when you came without warning, toes curling inside of your converse that kicked at the door and his thigh, while your fingers slipped on the window and your chest ached for a breath as it yelled his name in a way that the whole world would have to know how you felt when they heard it. 

He didn’t pull away until you were gasping and your thighs were shaking and your fingers loosened in his hair. His cheek pressed to your thigh as he stared up at you and gasped out a proud, smug, “I’d like to see Bender of Brian do that.”

You laughed, tired, but happy, and he crawled up your body, kissing any part of it he could find while he ignored the uncomfortable wet patch in the front of his Levi’s. 

Except you noticed and raised your eyebrows at it, a little smug yourself as you said, “Bet Claire couldn’t do that.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but then you were both flinching as a loud smack of something hit the back window. He glanced up and cursed under his breath, rolling down the window slightly as he called out from on top of you, “Hey, Hop.”

There was a loud, deep, sigh from outside as you both sat up with apologetic faces and Steve rolled down the window further. 

Hopper’s cigarette smoke wafted in as he looked at the pair of you with a touch of surprise when he saw it was you next to Steve in the fogged up beemer. He shook his head, frown under the mustache forced.  “It’s past eleven. On a weeknight. Have some decency and do this at home in front of a movie like normal people next time, yeah?”

You both nodded, your teeth pulling at your lip in a terrible attempt at not smiling. 

He walked away, and you and Steve slapped hands over each other’s laughs and snorts, but you still managed to catch the quiet, “Bout damn time.” 

And when Steve dropped you off at home, with a kiss to seal it all and a promise of a real date tomorrow that he’d pick you up for, you shoved the bunched up Calvin’s in his front pocket with your own promise, whispering in his ear the words “Sincerely, yours” before you left him with his mouth open on the front steps, watching you walk away. 

*if you liked this fic, the minor follow up is: Risky Business

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ get you home ] m. rempe

pairing : Matt Rempe x fem!reader

summary : Matt makes sure his best friend gets home safe after going out with him and a few of the Rangers after a win, but his plans change when she tells him how she feels about him

warning(s) : alcohol use and drunkenness, a heavy makeout, some suggestive comments

author’s note : got drunk so i started to write a fic and finished it while sober lol :))

༺═──────────────═༻

One of the things she loves about going out with Matt is the fact that he deters every guy from approaching her. Everyone views him as this scary guy because he’s a six-foot-seven hockey player but in reality, he’s probably the sweetest guy she’s ever met.

It works to her advantage though since she only ever wants to talk to him when she goes out with him.

Tonight in particular, she wants to stay glued to his side. He scored a goal in his playoff debut and all she wants to do is celebrate. She doesn’t want her attention to be pulled away from Matt.

The Rangers found a booth in a dark corner of the club they came to after game one against Washington and started buying drinks and shots for Matt after his goal that started this season’s playoff run.

She took so many shots with Matt when they first got to the club and kind of regrets it. She wanted to at least be coherent and remember her words when she tells Matt that she’s in love with him.

Tonight might not be the night to tell him though. She doesn't want him to think she's telling him because she's drunk or because he scored a goal.

Plus, she wants to be able to remember telling him and she isn't sure that's possible right now because of the amount of drinks and shots she's had. Tonight shouldn't be the night she tells her best friend that she's in love with him.

Once Trouba decides to leave, a bunch of the Rangers decide to follow him out the door. Once the captain leaves, that usually means whatever is going on is officially over. A lot of the older guys leave, but most of the younger guys like Matt and Braden stay for a little bit longer.

There are about three more rounds of shots before everyone else calls it a night. She stumbles out of the club holding onto Matt's arm so she doesn't fall on the sidewalk in her heels. She leans against his chest while he orders them an Uber to her apartment.

"Mm," she hums. "Comfy wall."

Matt laughs and wraps an arm around her shoulders to keep her stable. "You're so drunk," he comments. "How much have you had to drink?"

"A little less than you," she replies. "I think. How are you not stumbling after everything you've had today?"

He tucks his phone into the pocket of the pants he's wearing. "I'm a foot taller than you and over a hundred pounds heavier than you," he laughs. "Not to mention I have a faster metabolism and can handle my liquor. It's not my fault you're so short."

She looks up at him. "Hey, five-foot-six is not short," she retorts. "You're just freaking tall ." Matt laughs. "Out here having fucking trees for legs like God damn, Matt."

A car pulls up in front of them and Matt helps her get in the car. "Me and my tree legs are trying to get you home safely," he tells her. "You better be nice to me or I'm gonna leave you to get to your apartment by yourself."

"You'd never do that to me," she giggles. "You like me too much."

Matt slides into the car next to her and she immediately moves as close as she can to him. She rests her head on his shoulder before she shuts her eyes. Being drunk and being in a car is not the best combination. She'll gladly use Matt's shoulder as a pillow until they get to her apartment building. They're a good fifteen minutes away so she has time.

The Uber driver realizes who got into the backseat of his car so he and Matt talk about the game. The driver mentions Matt's goal and says what an amazing goal it was. She doesn't say anything but she agrees a thousand percent.

His goal was a beauty. It's something that he'll never forget for sure. She'll never forget celebrating it when it happened. Hearing his name announced during the next play will be something she'll remember hearing forever.

She listens to the conversation and smiles while they talk about the game. She doesn't chime in because she's afraid to open her eyes. The last thing she wants to do is throw up in an Uber.

About fifteen minutes later, the Uber pulls up to her apartment. The driver wishes Matt luck during the rest of the playoffs as he helps her out of the car. She thanks him as Matt shuts the door. Matt wraps an arm around her and helps her into the building.

As she walks through the lobby, she stumbles and loses her balance. With a groan, she slides out of Matt's grip and lands on the floor to pull off he heeled boots that she's wearing. "Stupid shoes," she says to herself. Matt laughs and holds a hand out to help her up when she is ready to stand back up.

"Why did you even wear heels to the game?" he asks as he pulls her up from the ground. "I mean, it's a hockey game."

"I wanted to look nice and dress up the jersey," she replies. Matt lent her his Stadium Series jersey. She might have to wear it for every game now since he scored a goal while she was wearing it. "Sorry I wanted to look nice. Good thing too since we went out afterwards."

It's easier for her to walk now that her feet are flat on the ground. She carries the shoes onto the elevator, where she leans against the wall for support.

"Are you still super drunk?" Matt asks. "I'm asking because I need to know if you'll be okay if I leave."

"We'll see," she mumbles as she drops her head to her left to look at him. "Can you stay anyway? Just in case?"

He nods and smiles as the elevator dings and the doors open.

She stumbles down the hallway to her apartment, dropping one of the shoes in the process. Matt picks it up and she uses her key to unlock the door. Somehow, she gets the door open, but she stumbles inside. Matt quickly wraps an arm around her waist before she can go crashing down to the floor.

The door closes behind them and she looks up at him. "Thanks," she says.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna stay," he comments. "You just fell into your apartment." She giggles and stands back up. Matt wraps an arm around her shoulders. "Come on. Do you want to shower or anything before you go to bed? Want a snack? You're going to drink at least one glass of water before going to bed."

She looks up at him and says, "I should probably shower since I got a drink spilled on my pants." That was Cuylle's fault and she wasn't very happy that she smelled like beer for the rest of the time they were at the club.

"I'll get him to apologize for that tomorrow when he's sober," Matt tells her. "For now though, bath or shower? Think you can shower?"

"I think I can shower," she replies. "A cold one might sober me up a bit. Some of the clothes that you've left here are all in a drawer if you want to pull something together, or I can give you this jersey since it's technically yours."

Matt smiles and shakes his head. "That jersey is yours now," he says. "I'll find something. Go shower the beer smell away."

She sticks her tongue out at him and stumbles her way to her room. She pulls out a large t-shirt and a pair of slightly too small Lululemon shorts to sleep in before walking into the bathroom for her shower.

The water is ice cold in hopes that it sobers her up enough for the conversation that's going to happen after her shower. She wants to make sure she remembers the entire conversation and whatever she says to Matt. She wants to remember his reaction and what he tells her when she tells him about her feelings.

It's going to go really well or really bad. She has no idea how it's going to go. He may just tell her that it's bad timing since the playoffs just started, or he'll fully embrace it. Maybe he'll tell her that he feels the same.

The unknown is what scares her.

After a short and sweet shower where she only washes her hair and body, she hops out and dries off. She shivers from how cold it was and dresses quickly.

When she walks out of the bathroom with her wet hair French braided down her back, she finds Matt laying on his back on her bed on his phone. He's typing away, probably replying to people that he didn't get to yet about his goal or the win. He's wearing a pair of sweatpants and one of his Rangers hockey shirts that he found in the drawer.

Matt notices her standing in the doorway between the bedroom and her bathroom. "There's a glass of water on your table," he tells her. "I left some Advil for you too for the morning."

Just rip off the bandaid. It's time to get this over with.

"I have something I want to say first in case it chases you off," she tells him. "I don't know what your reaction is going to be when I say this but ... I love you."

"I love you too."

"No, Matt," she sighs. "I'm in love with you. I have been for months, maybe close to a year at this point. I know my timing isn't the best but I couldn't not tell you anymore. I'm not saying this because you scored a goal or because you won a playoff game or because I'm still slightly drunk but I am genuinely in love with you."

He stares at her while she talks, but as soon as she's done saying what she has to say, Matt gets up out of bed and walks up to her. "I knew what you meant," he comments. "I've been waiting for you to say something to me before I did this."

"Do wha-"

Before she can finish her question, Matt gently cups her jaw and leans down to press a light kiss to her lips. It's so light that she feels like he's just testing the waters.

It barely feels like a kiss when he pulls back.

She takes a step closer to him and looks up at him. "Can you please kiss me like you mean it?" she questions.

"Gladly."

He crashes their lips together in a more definitive kiss that makes her heart beat out of her chest. She presses herself against him and fists his t-shirt in her hand to hold him close to her. Matt's thumbs trace her cheekbones and she sighs. He takes full advantage and licks past her parted lips.

She presses her hands against his torso and pushes him toward the bed. She has to tilt her head up to kiss him and it's starting to hurt her neck. So she pushes him down until he falls back and is sitting on the mattress. She crawls onto his lap so they're at a more even level.

This isn't the reaction that she was expecting. Maybe Matt saying that he loves her too or some cuddles. She thought that kisses would wait until morning when they're both completely sober.

That being said, this is what she thought their first kiss would look like. Rough, needy. She kisses him like she craves him, and he kisses her back like he's been holding back. She's seen Matt kiss former girlfriends before and studied the way his lips move, but experiencing it is something completely different.

Her heart is in her stomach and her body shakes with anticipation. She truly cannot believe that this is happening right now.

She slides her hands down his chest and stomach then slithers her fingers up under his shirt. Matt hums and pulls back from the needy kiss. “Clothes are staying on until we’re both sober,” he tells her. She nods but is very distracted by how red and swollen his lips are.

All because of her.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t touch,” she replies. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

Matt sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and looks her up and down in his lap. She reaches up with one of her hands and touches one of the scars on his cheek. He turns his head and presses a kiss to her wrist.

He trails kisses up her forearm and she smiles as he pulls her flush against his chest. She wraps her arms around his neck and Matt flips them so he’s pinning her down against the mattress.

She smiles and looks up at him. “You do know that I love you too, right?” Matt asks. “I mean, I knew what you meant when you told me that you love me. The timing couldn’t have been any better because I thought I was going to genuinely lose my mind if I held back from you any longer.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Matt replies. “I love you. I think I’ve loved you for literally ever. I probably realized it in February when you were in the crowd for my NHL debut. Seeing you in that jersey tonight, oh my God. I thought I was going to actually lose it at the club.”

She smiles and grabs the bottom of his shirt. She fists the fabric and holds him close. “You could’ve made a move whenever you wanted and I probably would’ve been okay with it,” she admits. “I hated seeing you with random girls or old girlfriends. They never wanted you like I do.”

“I know,” he says. “I think I see that now. I’ve had a few girlfriends, but none of them have stuck around like you have.”

“By your side always,” she promises.

Matt leans down and kisses her again. The kiss almost feels like her sealing the promise.

Because she’ll never leave his side. Ever.

༺═──────────────═༻

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[transvampireboyfriend]

Here's a bit from a fic I'm not sure I'll ever start writing. for context, this is Corroded Coffin's first tour and they brought Steve along (bc Eddie would never even imagine having it any other way)

Jeff and Eddie are walking towards the green room discussing the way their melodies turned out at tonight's show, when Gareth catches up to them, a little winded,

"Hey," he pants, "Freak says he wants to try that tacos place we saw on our way into town, you guys up for it?"

Jeff simply nods and Eddie shrugs, "Sounds good" he answers,

Gareth claps them in the back and says to Eddie "Awesome, I'll go ask your wife",

He goes to skip ahead between them but Eddie grabs him by the scruff of his tshirt and yanks him back, causing his head to slap itself against Eddie's waiting palm.

Jeff snorts but Gareth isn't amused.

"OW dude! What the fuck?!" he demands with wide eyes. Eddie doesn't buy it for a second, launches into the same warning he always gives them,

"I told you! if he hears you saying that he could get really pissed, and then you'll get me into serious trouble!" he still has Gareth by the scruff, so he yanks him again for emphasis,

"Do you want me to be in serious trouble, man?" Gareth shakes his head, Eddie yanks again,

"Do you want me to be in serious trouble because of you?" Gareth frantically shakes his head but holds his palms up as he weasels out of Eddie's hold, half-laughing as he turns to face them and walking backwards as they advance,

"I do NOT say it around him!" Gareth defends, Jeff scoffs beside Eddie and Eddie just narrows his eyes,

"Plus, I told you that he's into you, man!" Gareth continues, Eddie rolls his eyes at that so he can't see the significant look Jeff gives him, agreeing with Gareth.

"This again" Eddie groans, "you're delusional. Just stop calling him that altogether and we'll be good," he insists.

Gareth just sighs "Fine. Can you go ask your very platonic friend, that you share a bed with every night, if he wants tacos? Or should we not even ask his opinion?"

Eddie flicks his ear and Gareth frowns dangerously, meeting the end of his rope.

Jeff says "Okay-" and holds his hands up placatingly, but Eddie doesn't like his chances so he sprints down the hall laughing and Gareth takes off hot in his heels.

Jeff groans as Freak catches up with him,

"Children." Freak states, tutting.

---

When Steve comes back to the green room he finds Eddie and Gareth wrestling on the floor.

"Um-" he starts and Eddie, who had been making Gareth slap himself turns excitedly to him,

"Stevie!! What did you think?" he asks, wanting to get Steve's opinion on tonight's show, and probably very specifically, the melodies he and Jeff had been working on for weeks now.

Steve's lucky that Gareth pulls on his hair and distracts him by slamming him on the floor, otherwise Eddie would have totally noticed him blushing.

He'll never get over Eddie wanting his input, especially when it comes to something as important to him as his music, his band.

"OW!" Eddie shouts as Gareth pulls his hair again, reaching to pull on Gareth's nose.

That brings Steve back. He ceremoniously places his hands on his hips, and calls "Children!",

It startles Eddie into slapping Gareth's arm away particularly hard and Steve hears muttered apologies as the two of them sit up criss-cross side by side.

"He started it!" Eddie accuses, playing along with Steve's babysitter bit, "He said we shouldn't ask your opinion on dinner," Gareth gasps indignantly and tackles him again.

Steve just sighs, used to them buzzing with energy after shows.

He hears Jeff and Freak enter the room and turns to them as if they had been there all along, "Dinner from where?" he asks them,

Freak looks up from the boys wrestling and says "Remember that tacos place we saw on our way in? last Thursday?"

Steve's expression clears with understanding, he nods "Oh yeah! Yeah, that place! Okay. Sounds good." Freak nods and goes to their clothes rack.

"Soon as these two finish," Jeff comments.

Gareth has Eddie in a chokehold now and Eddie is trying to lick his arm while also pulling on Gareth's hair.

"I should record you and put it up on the internet," Steve threatens.

Jeff joins in "It'd humiliate our lead man, but it's a risk I'm willing to take" he claps his approval on Steve's back and goes to the clothes rack as Freak goes to change his outfit.

Eddie taps twice on Gareth's arm to be released and Gareth raises both arms above his head triumphantly.

Eddie points a finger at Steve, then Jeff and says "I'm vetoing that!"

Steve frowns. "I didn't know you had vetoing rights" he teases, tilting his head.

"He doesn't" Jeff and Gareth answer in unison,

"You just said I'm the lead man!" Eddie whines to Jeff,

"I was talking about Gareth" Jeff shrugs.

Gareth puffs out his chest and Eddie shoves him, knocking him on his ass again.

Steve can't help but chuckle at them. Eddie turns to look at him with mirth in his eyes then, extends his arms to be helped up.

Steve pulls him to his feet with his heart in his throat.

"So?" Eddie asks,

"What?" Steve asks quietly,

"What'd you think?" Eddie asks again, quiet too like it's their secret, giving his arm a little impatient tap, reminding him he hadn't answered before.

Steve doesn't remember when he started smiling so big "It was good." he tells him, just as quietly, having created a little bubble for the two of them without meaning to, but not wanting to burst it.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, the corners of his mouth twitching up,

"Mmhm," Steve confirms, starts fiddling with one of Eddie's many chains, "I think the change you made yesterday was smart, the crowd was definitely wilder tonight" he comments,

"Well, that was Jeff, 'member?"

"Hmmm" Steve hums, letting go of the chain and leaning his elbow on Eddie's shoulder to turn to Jeff,

"Well that was a very smart change Jeff!" he calls loudly, enjoying Eddie's flinch. He has to clear his throat because his voice comes out raspy for some reason.

----

Jeff frowns, confused.

"The new arrengement from yesterday," Eddie clarifies, eyes on Steve. Jeff ignores him, but takes the clarification all the same,

"Oh! thanks! Man, did you see the crowd tonight?" Jeff marvels,

Steve says "That's what I was just telling Eddie!" and they launch into specifics that Eddie misses.

He's thinking he usually doesn't like being teased but his cheeks are burning and he can't feel anything other than a pleasant warmth right now, Steve Harrington broke him.

He shakes his head and comes back to reality just in time to see Steve turn to him and say, "You did great tonight, Eds. You were super comfortable using the space on stage tonight, people loved it,"

Eddie doesn't say he was only comfortable because he had a clear view of Steve in the crowd.

"Thank you Stevie" he tells him instead. Steve smiles brightly at him. It makes Eddie want to rub his face on Steve's shoulder.

He pinches Steve's waist instead, gets all up in his space, still buzzing with energy from running around on stage.

"Help me pick something out for tacos?" he requests, hopeful. He loves the idea of Steve thinking about what would look best on him.

"Yeah," Steve agrees, grabbing the hand that pinched him and leading Eddie to the rack.

Gareth rolls his eyes at Eddie as they walk past him and Eddie flips him the bird.

[sugarverse]

𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝙾𝚞𝚝, 𝚃𝚠𝚘 📖 📕

word count: 6.1k

mentions of: reader crying during sex, vulgar words like cunt lol, smut, calls the reader angel, baby, slut, other pet names I think. kinda dub-con? reader says stop in an overwhelmed way but not a genuine "get off me" way

authors note: the smut is right after the date finishes,  I'm sure no one needs reasoning on why he's a little ooc but heres it anyway. I like to believe as he gets older he has a degradation thing for others. yk you get bullied for fucking ever you'd like to be in control, and for christ sakes he's 25 in this, he's not gonna be the same stuttering beginner deku. kay thats all lmfao

part one! moodboard for the fic by @fizziedoodle

“Welcome back, Mr. Midoryia!” The older brunette said happily, she looked to be in her early 40s, standing tall as her eyes roamed down his body before searching down the list. “You brought a woman this time, Finally not a business deal?” She joked, smiling at you happily. “Your dress looks stunning,” She says to you before meeting eyes with Izuku. He was obviously flustered, a big hand going to rub his neck once more.

“Its for 6:30, Miss Jacklynn.” She waved him off, “Don’t get all proper because you have a cute date. You know the deal,” She grabbed two menus and silverware, walking you both around the corner where a live band had been playing. Music and echoes of laughter filled the dining room. It must have been muffled by the walls near the hostess stand because it seemed way louder than before. You squint slightly as you adjust to the noise, watching the hostess set the table accordingly. “Your waitress will be here shortly,” Izuku let you sit first, sitting across from you with a big grin on his face. “Hope you enjoy!” Jacklynn chirped, winking at the two of you before walking back to the hostess stand.

“Who’s that?” You ask, looking around and smiling under the bright lights. You were trying to hide the annoyed look you wanted to keep on your face, it was unnecessary for that chick to keep babbling after Izuku already looked flustered. But you knew not to overreact right away. You scooch into the booth, sitting onto the comfy red seats. You traced the designs in the dark wood table with your nail, looking up to see him again.

“She normally helps me get deals whenever we have big hero galas here.. She’s always helping my table and stopping by extra to help. She's a really good friend!” He opened  and closed the menu slightly, hearing the click noise it made. Your eyes trailed back to him, nodding and opening your own menu. You kept your thoughts to yourself, looking for the drink options. 

He already knew exactly what he wanted, opening his menu to the drink page and placing it next to you. "Do you like wine?“ He pointed to the list of wine bottles, then moved to the other side of the page. "They have good margaritas too, if that’s more your thing?”

You close your own menu, leaning over his slightly to read the top. “I.. don't know,” You looked over the drink sections some more. There was so much to try, it was hard to see anything new to try. Maybe you just wanted a fruit cocktail or something? You were tired of trying something new and not liking it. There had just been words to describe the drinks which really doesn't help, No pictures. It just seems easier to look at a drink and say you want that instead. You bite your cheek, trying to decide. 

“I was going to get a Cadillac Margarita.. Kacchan comes in and gets the fanciest he can- But the first few times we went drinking, he told me to try it and I havent tried anything else since. If you want, I can buy two and you can get whatever else you want if you don’t like it? If that sounds good?” He stared down at you, grinning ear to ear. 

You hummed softly in agreement, watching your nails as they tapped against the wood. “I was going to say a more confident yes, But I don’t like lime like that. I’m not gonna waste an entire drink because I'm picky.. I found a pineapple one I can drink!” You pointed to the menu, seeing the small description read something about it tasting like a fancier pina colada. “You get your fancy ass drink and I’ll take a sip. You can try mine too!” 

“I get sugar around the rim. You okay with that?” He asks, he hadn’t broken eye contact yet, watching you look at his lips then back to his eyes. You hummed a soft agreement once again, smirking a bit at his seemingly still flustered state. “Good Evening you two!”

A voice interrupted, causing you both to look over at the woman. “My name is Emilie, Do you know what you want to drink tonight?”

Izuku nodded, showing off that pro-hero smile he wore mostly for cameras. “Yes Ma’am! I wanted a Cadillac Margarita with sugar around the rim, In a fishbowl glass if you have it, Thank you!” The waitress looked at you, smiling and quickly scribbling down what Izuku had ordered.

“And for you miss?” You smiled. “A pineapple margarita on the rocks with salt around the rim,” You shot Izuku a teasing glance. “A regular glass is fine with me.” 

She nodded, writing that down as well. “Any appetizers for you two?” He chuckled, moving pages of the menu back and forth. “We’re still looking, But I’m assuming yes.”

“Perfect! I’ll be back with your drinks!” She left, looking down at her notepad. You open your menu to look as well, trying to find the section that looked the most appealing. It seemed like the menu went on for ages. 

“You wanna try the calamari?” Izuku suggests as he finally leans back into his seat to relax.

You rolled your eyes. “You know this stupid thing like the back of your hand. We can get.. Whatever that is. Don’t tell me until I eat it!” You finally found genuine entrees, hearing him laugh loudly at your statement.

“I wont, I wont. You want filet mignon? I know you said you like steak.. I wanted to get some Nigiri and Maki. So you can try both if you want?” Your eyes grew wide, nodding. 

“Of course I want filet mignon!” You said happily, shutting the menu. You already knew your sides were going to be asparagus and mashed potatoes. Nothing too complicated and food you know is hard to fuck up.

“I’ll order everything when she gets back. What else would you like?” He chirped, shutting his menu and setting it on the edge of the table next to you. You crossed your arms. “What makes you think I can’t do it myself?”

He laughed, knowing you were kidding. It didn’t take away from the dark look in his eyes. “Don’t be a brat, Tell me what you want to eat y/n..” Your eyes widened, going to retort to his comment before the waitress placed your drinks down. Izuku began telling her what you both had wanted to eat, glancing at you to see how you wanted it cooked. You were sorta still in shock, mouthing the way you wanted it cooked and your sides to him as he ordered. You sipped your drink, squinting at him and setting it down. He took a sip of his own before reaching over to take yours. 

The comment still rang in your ears, a smirk resting on your face as you grazed your tongue over your teeth. “You wanna swap spit with me already?” You joke, taking his glass with both hands. It looked like a genuine fish bowl with a stem.. There was no way he was finishing this whole thing. You licked a small part of the rim, taking a sip as your face scrunched up. You pushed the glass towards him, laughing and shaking your head a few times. “That’s fuckin’ strong Izuku- Oh my god-” You laughed, covering your cough before listening to your nails tapping at the glass.

The words fell from his mouth quicker than he could correct them, “I would gladly swap more than just spit with you.” You felt your face heat up, staring at him for a moment. He thought he had mumbled it, standing slightly to swap your drinks. He watched your manicured hand grab his tie loosely before he could sit back down. Your gaze stayed on his lips, hearing both hands be placed onto the table with small taps of your nails. He leaned forward, giving you a small kiss on your lips. It felt right. Was a kiss what you wanted?

You smile, kissing back and tugging his tie closer to you before he could pull away to give some lame peck. He felt his face burn, pulling away slowly and sitting down with a happy, almost woozy, grin on his face. He looked down at his drink, picking the glass up between his fingers and bringing it up to his lips. “You kiss like an angel. I thought I was in trouble at first..” He laughed to himself, bringing his drink to his lips once more.

You watched his facial expression change as he felt your heel creep up his leg and to his thigh. He didn't say anything, taking another big sip before setting the glass back onto the table. You watched his face turn cherry red, looking at you like he needed to speak. He opened his legs a bit more, feeling the tip of your heel rub against his inner thigh. You scoot down in your seat, heel now against his bulge. “The opposite of trouble, ‘zuku..” You flash an innocent smile, moving your foot side to side against him slightly.

He groaned, covering it with a small cough and another drink. A big hand suddenly grabs your ankle, yanking it towards his stomach so you slip downward in your seat. “You're playing with fire, honey.. Too many people around.” He leaned over the table to speak in a low voice, rubbing the soft skin of your calf before setting your foot back onto the ground. You smile, the tip of your heel slipping into his pant leg slightly as you rubbed against him.  

Malachite eyes watching your pretty lips sip at your straw, long eyelashes batting up at him. He couldn't wait to get out of here. The calamari came to the table, along with a few plates by someone other than your waitress just to scurry off. “I say try it with the sauce and then without..” He scooted closer to the table, adjusting himself in his pants as discreetly as he could.

“Ill try both just for you..” You tease, trying the calamari. It wasn’t half bad! I mean, It was fried but it was still kinda… squishy? You looked up from the plate to see him already munching on a piece. “What is it?” You grabbed your fork, poking around the plate to see if you could determine for yourself what it was.

“Squid.” He ate another piece, watching your face scrunch up. He let out a loud laugh, covering his mouth with one hand so he hadn’t spat everywhere. “You didn’t look like it was that bad!” He couldn’t help it, your face was very expressive and he knew you didn't like the sound of that.

“Squid makes it so much more.. gross.” You tried another small piece with your fork, watching the waitress visit the table. You looked over at her, seeing Izuku from the corner of your eye straighten up.

“You guys like it?” She asked with a smile, looking back and forth between the two of you. Izuku nodded, answering for the both of you. He knew you didn’t really like it. But he didn’t want to say no. Maybe he’ll finish it off later? “I’m glad! I checked on your food and it will be out in no time!” You smiled, nodding as she walked to visit another one of her tables.

“You can bring it home.. I don’t know if this shit warms up well- I’ll pay for it.” You grabbed your bag, huffing and feeling his scarred hand reach across the table to lay against yours.

“Don’t, it’s okay. I told you I got it, angel.” He pulled your hand up to his lips for a kiss. He didn’t mind whatsoever, it was good! You smiled, messing with the cloth napkin that your silverware laid upon. He is so sweet..

“I could get used to being called angel..” You murmured, pulling out your phone. “We should at least take a picture! First dates are important!” You smile up at the hero before earning a smile back. You quickly got up, plopping right next to him. You extend your arm out, taking the picture as the two of you shined your teeth at the camera. You then took another, this one had just been you kissing him on the cheek. His face turned a bit red, not expecting it, but not minding. 

You sent the two photos to him, going to get up until he slid an arm tightly around your waist. You then see a hot plate of food being placed in front of the two of you. You giggled, staying tightly against him and watching the steam rise from your food before he got his sushi and lobster. 

You beamed, thanking the person who had brought you the food before grabbing your silverware and setting it next to you once more on his side of the table. Izuku chirped in a thank you as well before digging into his food. He cut off a small bite off of what he had just to put it to your lips. “Try it, I bet you’ll love it.” You huffed, opening your mouth slowly. It looked.. wet. Slimy even. Although it looked like it wouldn’t taste as good as it did.. You liked it!

You begin cutting your steak, “It’s good! You want a bite of my food?” You hold the fork out in case he said yes. He thought for a moment, finishing whatever he was chewing on to lean down and eat the bite you had given him. Steak wasn’t his favorite, but it was good too! You two shared a few more bites back and forth, finishing your own food of course. You both were stuffed! It was delicious and you were glad you were having such a good time.

You two were still leaning up against each other when the waitress bought the check. She stopped in her tracks a moment, deciding to give it to you since you sat outside the booth, Just for Izuku to kindly take it from your hands. You attempted to look at the price, but he didn’t even look! He placed his card in and handed the check back.

He looked down at you, staring at those pretty, full lips. He wanted them around his cock. Bad. That wasn't just the liquor talking either. He couldn't stop thinking about in the limo, it had been awhile since he's been with someone intimately and you were just so warm and inviting. “Hey Angel, You wanna watch a movie after this?” He rubbed his hand up your arm, silently asking to play with your hair. You leaned into his touch, watching him twirl the ends of your hair between his fingers.

“Sure, I’d love to..” You tapped the table with your nails. “Your place?” You had been all dolled up, it wasn’t really.. movie theater appropriate? You’d rather go to your/his place to chill out.

He nodded, kissing your cheek softly. “My place. You wanna change at my place too? I’ll give you some of my old clothes. I know you want this dress off fast..”

“Not as fast as you want it off.” You teased, watching the waitress come back. She handed the card and receipt to Izuku who seemed to be trying to keep it together. 

“I hope you two have a good night!” She spoke, attempting to scurry off before Izuku started speaking. He took the receipt and tucked it into his wallet along with his card, pulling out a fifty and handing it to the woman. “Here, I know you’re busy tonight. Thanks for takin’ care of us.” He smiled, watching her squeal and take it. “Thank you so much!” She laughed happily, running off to go tell her friends or.. whatever she was going to do. She’s not relevant to the story anymore-

You scooted out of the booth, putting your hand out for him to help him up. He scooped an arm around yours, walking right out the door. The limo was right outside, waiting for you two to get in. Did he text the driver? Had they been there the whole time? You didn’t give it much thought, watching Izuku open the door for you. You smiled at your reflection, reapplying lip gloss before climbing inside as Izuku followed. 

Almost immediately after he shut the door, he starts to speak. “Can.. Can I kiss you? On the lips again?” You could tell by his face he felt a bit flushed. You nodded, leaning up just for his big frame to pull you up out of your seat by your hips. He sat you on his lap, pressing his lips against yours feverishly. 

You whimpered after feeling how needy he was for just a kiss. It was sloppy.. But it was so passionate at the same time. You began to sit up a bit more, feeling him place a hand onto your thigh. You were still much smaller than him, having to sit on his lap for a proper kiss. He is so fucking strong.. Picking me up like it wasn’t nothin’. You thought to yourself.

He slowly opened his eyes, staring at you with a cloudy, hazy look. He wanted to see if there were any signs of resistance.. But after you hadn’t pulled away, He closed them once more. He couldn’t stop tugging on the silky fabric of your dress, it was so soft.. He wanted to rip it off your body. Would you let him? He’ll buy you a new one. He swears by it.

You began running your hands through those pretty dark green curls. Hearing him letting out soft whimpers before mumbling something against your lips. The next thing you knew, the hero was shoving his tongue down your throat. You made sure to keep him close, feeling your poor clit rubbing against his bulge from his impatient movements. Despite not trying to, you let out a few moans as well. Tugging even harder on his curls. He groaned, letting his eye peak open slightly at the feeling of the limo arriving at his place. 

He pulled away from you, panting quietly as he planted another soft kiss onto your forehead. He had lip gloss smeared on his lips, they glimmered in the low light of the vehicle. “Come on Angel, We’re here.” He let you get out first, kissing your shoulder as he stood behind you. He shut the door and held your waist close to his hip as he walked up the steps to his home.

You stared up at the house, There was enough for himself and at least 3 extra rooms to hold. Why would he have such a big house to himself? You thought for a moment, hearing the door click in front of you. He held the door open, rubbing the small of your back.

“Go ahead angel,” He spoke softly, turning a few lights on as he followed you inside. He took his shoes off, locking the door behind him. He knelt to undo the clasp of your heels, sliding them off of your feet and setting them next to the door. “Are you ready to change now or do you want to wait?” He didn't want to rush you out of your clothes… Well, not yet at least. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable first.

Your eyes flicker to him, still soaking in the smell of apple and cinnamon from his home. It was beautiful.. Marble counters, a leather sofa, a 75in TV.. “Now is fine, You think I'll be able to fit your clothes?” You giggle, holding his hand as he guides you to his bedroom. Picture frames hung upon the walls, His family maybe? Friends and other pro-heros you’d seen on the news posed with him on his beige walls. His bedroom door creaked open, a king-sized mattress with silk pillowcases and a dark gray bedspread sat in the middle of the room next to a dresser. A small nightstand, alarm clock, and lamp sat on the other side of the bed. He had been pretty organized, more than you thought a pro hero would be. 

As you look around the room, he lets your hand go in search of comfy clothes. He found an old shirt from days where he'd train with All Might, the dingy yellow fading out from how much it had been washed. He sets it onto the bed, quickly finding a few pairs of pajama pants to set next to it. “I’ll go change in the bathroom, Let me know when you’re done!” He grabbed his hanger for his suit, looking for his own clothes to wear as he loosened his tie around his neck.

"Thank you, Zuku..” You watched his shoulders tense a bit. Did he not like the nickname? You just said it not too long ago.? You sat on the bed and began to take out your earrings.

“Of.. Of course y/n..” He liked the name, just not used to someone being nice to his name. You get called Deku all your life you forget your real name can be just as sweet. He leaned down to kiss your cheek before walking to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. He looked at himself in the mirror, flustered and scrambling to keep himself together. You gave him butterflies with that honey-laced voice of yours. He froze for a moment, looking for any wipes so that you would wipe off your make-up. Were you spending the night? Did I even ask?? It might have been rude to assume.. Did you even want to take your makeup off? Was that stupid to assume too? He didn’t want to ask, whatever happens will happen. He’s not going to make you feel obligated to do anything. He looked all over for wipes, sighing when he realized he hadn’t had any. After hanging his suit onto the hanger, he knocked on the door. “If you aren't done, Take your time! I was going to go pop in a mo-”

You opened the door, cutting him off. His pants were too long on you but they fit otherwise! You looked up at him, “What was that sweetheart?” You stood to the side, watching him go to hang up his tux. What you hadn’t noticed was where his eyes went as soon as the door opened.

“Whatever you want. I have Hulu, Netflix, We can watch some movies on HBO or something?” So cute in my clothes.. Were you wearing a bra? God I bet your tits are so fucking pretty.. He thought to himself, feeling his cock twitch in his boxers. You shuffled your feet onto the carpeted floor with a smile, heading towards the couch and sitting down comfortably. He sat next to you, a bigger grin placed on his face as you scooted closer to him. He wrapped an arm around you, flicking through the movies on Netflix first. “Anything certain you wanna watch?” He asked, leaning his head onto yours.

You shrugged, taking the remote from him and looking for yourself. It didn’t really matter what movie was picked, Whatever would be good background noise right? You turned on some comedy movie, leaning over to snatch the blanket that had been thrown onto the arm of the couch. You put it over the both of you, leaning to set the remote onto the glass coffee table. He had little all-might too coasters.. How cute.

He grabbed his phone, using it to dim the lights in the living room before rubbing your shoulder. “y/n?” He asked softly, moving his head from yours to look down at you. He watched your eyes meet, leaning down for another kiss like earlier.

You kissed back without hesitation, cupping his face and letting his scruff lightly scratch at your palm. He wasted no time pulling you onto his lap again. His hungry state had been the most uncaring he’s been all night, shoving his tongue into your mouth and gripping your hips so hard they might bruise. He needed you. Grinding you against him like a hungry animal. Allowing his bulge to bump against your clit, feeling you moan into his mouth. You were intoxicating..

He dragged his wet kisses down to your neck, chuckling as you struggled to catch your breath. Did he make you feel that good? He ran his hands up to your chest, feeling you grind without his force. He bit your neck softly, feeling you lean in before he left a small red hickey on your shoulder. 

Staring down at your chest, his eyes flickered up to ask for permission to continue marking you. You gave a small nod before seeing his eyes light up, He proceeded to leave hickeys and love bites all over your naked torso. You gave a sharp tug at his hair before he lifted you into his arms. He looked up at your slacked jaw, taking a small bite onto your side as he carried you to his room on his broad shoulder. You let out a loud giggle or two as he laid you against his bed, lifting your shirt and swirling a tongue around your nip. He teased for a second, sucking on one and pinching the other between his fingers. He switched sides, wanting to give your entire body his attention.

“You really want me baby? You want me to ruin you?” He stood up properly to take his own clothes off, watching you strip under him.

“Yes, Please Zuku..” You muttered, letting your arms cross upon your face. The feeling his hands moving them away made you whine. He didn’t speak at all, but you got the message and kept your arms above your head. Your eyes traveled down his bare chest, shutting your legs around him in a failed attempt to close them at the sight of his happy trail.

“Can I fuck your tits first? Please?” He gave them a soft squeeze before taking his hard-on out. He tugged off the rest of his clothes for you, not breaking eye contact.

You nodded slowly, feeling him cup your face. You let your eyes drift down at his cock, feeling your jaw drop slowly at the sight before he shut it. “You just sit there and look pretty for me..” He mumbled before sliding his dick through the valley of your breasts. He pushed them together with your hands, letting out soft whimpers into the air. The noises he let out were heavenly.. You couldn’t explain it. You watched his face contort into pleasurable looks, drool pooling in his mouth. You smirked softly before licking his tip each time his head passed all the way through.

He went much faster. You were such a good girl.. You made him feel so fucking good. He already felt as if he’d cum all over your face already. You looked so pretty. Where had you been all his life? He practically had hearts in his eyes as he stared down at you. He imagined creaming inside of you, causing him to spill all over your face without warning. His hips gave a small stutter, pulling away and soaking in the sight of you.

You whimpered, swallowing the bit that got into your mouth before glancing up at Izuku. He had gone to grab a tissue from his bed stand, quickly wiping your face off. “My poor girl, I’m so sorry.. Let me make it up okay?” He slid his hand down, rubbing your clit in circles. Your back arched involuntarily off of the bed, eyes rolling back almost immediately. He had found it so quick. What a pro, Who else had he touched like this? You squeezed your eyes shut at the stupid thought. Who cared? He’s between your legs now, right? No one else mattered.

He hummed, switching to his thumb over your clit and easing a finger in. He knew his fingers had been pretty thick, calloused from all of his hero-work. He listened to you gasp and watched your lips quiver. He loved seeing you fall apart with a few touches.

You whimpered, wrapping your arms around him and pulling his body closer so you could hide the noises you made into his skin. He didn’t mind, shoving another finger in and curling them slowly. It was going to throw you over soon, hearing the wet sounds of your cunt and your gasps filling the room.

He stared at your eyelashes, watching your eyes shut tighter before cumming against his fingers. He kept your legs apart, feeling them start to close. “Its okay, Keep cumming baby..” He smacked your thigh with his free hand, keeping your legs wide open before shoving his fingers as deep as they’d go into your cunt.

You spasmed, scratching at his shoulders as he guided you through it. “Zuku.!” It was more of an oh my type of name call. He didn’t respond, pulling his fingers out of you to clean them with his tongue. You watched his eyes flutter, causing you to close your legs a bit embarrassed.

“We’re not done yet.” He finished sucking on his fingers, his cock twitching against your clit as he leaned your legs up to your ears. “I wanna fuck you. So stay still and take it for me..” He mumbled, looking up at you for any signs of wanting to stop. After he saw your little nod, he eased into you.

You smacked at the sheets, gripping them and shutting your eyes tight. Why was he so fucking big? You pulled your hips away only for him to grab them. He pulled you closer, shoving his cock deeper into you. “Don’t run now, Take it baby.” He growled into your ears, sending butterflies right to your tummy. 

He made sure you were alright, kissing your cheeks and mumbling soft praises as he shoved himself at his halfway point. It wasn’t slow at all. You had been so tight he might split you open. No one else ever made you so.. full. He wanted to try shoving in the other half so it would be quick and less painful, seeing some tears spill from your eyes. “Don’t cry, pretty girl. I'm right here..” He laid his hands next to your head, sighing softly. 

“I’m not cryin’..” You used your finger to wipe off some of your tears, ruining your makeup a bit. You hadn’t even closed your eyes fully before he slammed into you. “Fuck!!” You cried out, clinging onto him quicker than you ever had. You felt tears rush down your cheeks, your chest rising and falling quicker than before.. The full feeling in your tummy was just too overwhelming.

“Watch your mouth, Angel.” He kissed your shoulder, giving you time to adjust. He really was spitting you open. You were too fucking tight and he’d have to move soon. He tried to give you the time you needed, but he couldn’t wait that long. He started slowly dragging himself from your cunt, moving his hand to rest on the head board and the other to lay you down. “Let me take care of you..” He rubbed your clit with his thumb, watching his cock twitch inside of you.

You continued to pant like a dog in heat, letting out moans and leaning into his touch. “Zuku please...” You mumbled, tears starting to glue your lashes together. It felt so good but there wasn’t much to do but beg him to stop. It was too much, you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t hardly handle it.

He didn’t listen, watching you cry and your mascara drip from the first and only thrust so far. “What? Adjust to me.. I know you can do it baby..” He put a bit more pressure on your clit, rubbing it faster. He heard you hiccup and moans get louder, thinking about how bad he wanted to just slam into you. 

You simply nodded, moaning louder as he made you cream once again. Your cunt disobeying you and closing against his cock only made you pull him back in. “It- hah-.. It hurts Izuku..” You mumbled, not that he was listening nor did he care. You let him poke at your cervix again as he really moved. You were seeing stars.

“It hurts baby?” He groaned, letting his chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. “Aw.. It's okay, I’m right here.” He gave long, irritatingly slow, thrusts into you. He watched you smack at the blanket next to you, crying and whimpering even more than before.. He wiped off your tears, chuckling a bit and rutting in roughly. He watched your body flinch, jumping back from the force just to suck him back in again. “Can I move now, Angel? I’ll be gentle..” He lied through his teeth.

“y..yes..” And you believed him. He started slow, but gradually began pounding into you at more than a gentle pace. You could feel your walls cling around his cock, threatening to drain him of all of himself into you. You shivered, hugging your arms around him as you cried louder. The make-up you wore now beautifully ruined by his roughness.

“Am I makin you feel like this? You cryin 'cause of my cock?” He teased, feeling a sense of pride as he went on and on about how much of a slut you were for him. He could feel himself bruising your hips, but he couldn’t stop himself. It felt too good. He was too excited to even put on a condom.. Maybe he’ll trap that pretty pussy along with you. 

He leaned down, kissing down the valley of your breasts as they bounced near his head. He could feel your nails running through his hair and scratching at his scalp. Once you pulled on those green curls? It was over. His hips stuttered, letting out the loudest moan he had kept in his throat all night. He hadn’t stopped either, slamming into you harder as he broke his rhythm. “You’re mmm..mine, Mine, Mine.." 

You nodded as you continued to pull and scream out in bliss. You shivered, creaming onto his cock for the final time before feeling him pull out and make a sticky mess all over your stomach. You hadn’t minded one bit. You let your breath steady out as he went to his bathroom and warmed a rag to clean you off with.

Once he came back, cock clean and covering himself a bit as he wiped your body off. "You want me to wash you up, y/n?” He kissed your forehead, wanting to make sure you felt alright. After earning a nod from you, he carried you to the bathroom. It was huge. 

“Let me down!” You laughed, despite clinging around him. Once he let you down, you shoo’d him out so you could pee before hopping in the bath to start cleaning. He came back a bit later, washing you gently like he said he would. He didn’t want you raising a finger. 

He needed a woman like you all the time.

a/n: this is genuinely a draft before COVID that i posted on my very dead account. I rewrote and tweaked but it is still a very old concept. Idk i know I can write better than this but I felt like this needed more love first? sorry it's butt BAHAHAHA

side a/n: if you can't tell, i am ass at aftercare. mainly because I get too hot to lay together, I need weird me time after I have sex so I guess I've just never,,,learned?

[sailortongue]

someone help me name this fic

pairing: choso kamo x reader

summary: a simple movie night with your best friend turns into something more when his older brother joins your weekly ritual

wc: 3.3k

warnings: smut, nsfw, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, yuji is asleep in the same room briefly

an: why is smut so hard to write. feel like i put in so much effort just for it to not even be good

an 2: also the "title" is not a joke. this fic has been sitting in the docs for a few days and i'm still stumped. so if anyone has suggestions the floor is all yours

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Movie night was definitely your favorite night of the week. It always involved plenty of snacks, jokes, laughter, and was just generally a great time with your best friend. There was never a boring moment as long as Yuji was around. So no matter what, you could always expect to have fun.

What you didn't expect, though, was Yuji’s older brother, Choso, joining your weekly ritual. You liked him well enough, for what little you knew about him. For as long as you've been friends with Yuji you don't think Choso has ever said more than three words to you at one time. Not that that stopped you from harboring a small crush on the older male. You rolled your eyes at yourself. Crushing on your best friend’s brother. How cliche could you get?

But fuck Choso was pretty. Like, unfairly pretty. Especially now, when he was fresh out of the shower, his hair down from its usual space buns. You also noticed that he had removed the copious amount of earrings he usually had in his ears, giving him a softer look than you were accustomed too. You watched him run his hands through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face. You bet his hands would feel so good on your-

“Y/N!”

You snapped back to reality to see Yuji looking at you expectantly. “What?” you asked dumbly, heat spreading across your cheeks, embarrassed that you had accidentally ignored your friend in favor of thirsting over his brother. Get a grip you thought to yourself.

But Yuji only chuckled. “Rough week?” he asked.

You groaned as you dramatically flopped backward to lay on the couch, which was answer enough for Yuji. Always the optimist, he said, “Maybe next week will be better. You got this.”

“No, I don’t. This degree is eating me alive. I have not one, not two, but three exams next week!” you exclaimed, holding up three fingers for emphasis.

“You’ll be fine. You did well on your last exams and you’ll do well on these too. So like I was saying, I wanted to know if you had a particular movie in mind.”

You thought about it for a moment. “No, not really. How about we let Choso pick since it’s his first time watching with us?”

Both you and Yuji looked over at Choso, whose eyes widened at finding himself the center of attention. He hummed, trying to think if there was anything that piqued his interest before settling on a movie he’d been meaning to watch but never got around to.

“Perfect! Hey, Yn, can you pop some popcorn while I set it up?” asked Yuji.

You hummed your agreement and stood from your place on the couch, padding your way over to the kitchen. You dug in the pantry for the popcorn, finally finding the box shoved way in the back. You grabbed two of the pouches and placed one in the microwave. While that was popping, you decided to go ahead and get a large bowl for the snack.

Naturally, it was on the top shelf, which left you on your tiptoes and stretching your arm as high as you could all in vain. As if summoned by your plight, Choso walked into the kitchen to see your struggle.

“Hey, Choso, could you-”

Before you could even finish asking, he placed himself right behind you, his body flush to yours as he placed a hand on your hip for stability and reached up with the other arm to grab the bowl. He handed it to you with a simple “here” before walking back into the living room.

You couldn't believe that just happened. Your heart was going a mile a minute and you briefly considered splashing cold water on your face to cool it down. Luckily for you, Choso remained in the living room with Yuji, allowing you to have a small meltdown in peace. 

When you returned to the living room with popcorn in hand, you found that Yuji had made himself comfortable in the recliner, which left you with no choice but to share the couch with Choso. There was ample room on the couch for the two of you, but just being in the same room after his stunt in the kitchen felt too close, much less on the same couch.

You did your best to avoid looking at Choso, knowing your face would erupt with heat the moment you made eye contact. You placed the popcorn on the coffee table and took your seat on the opposite end of the sofa as Choso.

“Everybody ready?” asked Yuji excitedly, eager to watch a movie with two of his favorite people. When both you and his brother gave the affirmative, he started the movie. But for all of his excitement to watch it, you guess the exhaustion that comes with the end of a school week caught up to him, and he was asleep before he even made it halfway into the movie.

This left you to watch the rest of the movie alone with his brother, the man who had flustered you so terribly a mere hour ago and the one you thought about late at night. You silently cursed Yuji’s name for leaving you in this situation, even more so when the characters on screen ended up in a bedroom. You could feel Choso’s gaze on you, and when you glanced over at him, you were right, he was looking right at you.

You furrowed your brows into a questioning gaze, silently asking him what. He shook his head and returned his attention to the screen. You followed suit, but the graphic imagery was getting to you. You shifted in your seat, feeling the stirrings of arousal that first began with Choso pressing himself against your backside. You couldn't but imagine that the couple on screen was you and Choso: how it would feel to kiss him, be held by him, be fucked by him.

Why is this scene so long? You thought to yourself, rubbing your thighs together as discreetly as you could. But not as discreetly as you should have, apparently.

“Are you cold?” asked Choso. Now, Choso knew damn well you weren’t cold, but he wanted to see how far he could push you, how desperate he could make you. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” you insisted.

He frowned at your response and scooted over next to you anyway, extending his blanket to cover you. You weren't so naive to think that this is a normal and friendly interaction. Especially not when Choso’s large hand slid over your thigh and rested just below the hem of your shorts. You stiffened in your seat, and a warmth began to spread through your lower belly. “Choso,” you started, but the words caught in your throat as soon as he glanced down at you.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His hand continued from behind your ear and migrated to cup your face, pulling you closer to him. You glanced at his lips, heart practically pounding out of your chest. Before your lips could connect, he paused. “Is this okay with you?” he whispered breathily. He’d never forgive himself if he was making you uncomfortable with his advances.

Rather than answer, you mirrored his actions, cupping his face and pulling him closer, finally pressing your lips against his soft ones. He inhaled roughly, but melted against you as he returned the kiss. He licked the seam of your lips, urging you to let him in. 

But it wasn’t enough. Not for Choso. His hands moved to grip your hips and pull you into his lap. Now straddling him, you could feel how hard he was beneath you. You gasped into his mouth, and as soon as you did you regretted it. Choso pulled away from you, his dark eyes boring into yours. “You have to be quiet, pretty girl. You wouldn't want Yuji to wake up and see us, would you?”

You shook your head, eyes wide and pleading for him to keep going. He mockingly pouted at you, but it morphed into a patronizing grin, a wicked idea forming in his mind. He leaned in and licked a stripe from the base of your neck all the way to just below your ear. You shivered in his grasp, and he chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through his chest. He blew on the wet stripe, pleased at the way your body reacted so deliciously to the stimulation, your hands balling the fabric of his shirt into fists. But you stayed quiet. He hummed. “Good girl. Let’s go somewhere you can be a little louder. What d’ya say? I want to hear all those pretty sounds.”

You nodded fervently, not trusting your voice at the moment for fear that you’d disturb Yuji. Choso tutted at you, and nipped at your earlobe. The sudden sharp pain caused you to wince, but it was quickly forgotten as Choso placed feather-light kisses along your jawline before returning where he started, his soft voice tickling the shell of your ear. “Come on, baby, use your words. I need to hear you say it. Need to hear you say you want me to fuck you.”

You were about to assert that yes, you wanted this, wanted him, but you hesitated, wondering what Yuji would think if he ever found out.

He could see the indecision in your eyes, that you were unsure if you truly wanted to continue this or not. He pulled away from you, terrified that he had overstepped and you were just too scared to stop him. “If you don’t want this-”

“No!” you cut him off. “I do. I really want this. I’m just worried about what Yuji will think when or if he finds out and mmH-” Choso smashed his lips against yours, effectively silencing every racing thought as all you could focus on was the way his tongue intertwined with yours and how good his hands felt as they smoothed up and down your waist.

He reluctantly pulled away before he completely lost himself to bliss. “God, you're just too perfect.” His eyes scanned up and down your heaving body, which was tense with anticipation. All it took was the soft “please” falling from your kiss-swollen lips to have Choso groaning, all of his restraint crumbling within him. Your hips gyrating over his was just the nail in his coffin. He slid his hands from where they rested on your hips down your thighs, smoothly lifting you up with him as he stood from the couch. From over his shoulder you could see your best friend still sleeping peacefully in the recliner, none the wiser that the relationship between his best friend and older brother was about to be forever changed.

A pang of guilt went through you, but was smothered by the overwhelming lust and attraction you had been harboring for Choso since the first moment you saw him. What Yuji didn’t know wouldn't kill him, right?

You lost sight of Yuji as Choso entered his room, using his foot to softly close the door behind him. He approached the bed and placed you atop it gently, reverently even. Seeing his face hovering above yours, having him between your legs, it felt unreal. You never even entertained the thought that your fantasies would become a reality, but now they were and it was so much better than you could have ever dreamed.

In the privacy of his room and without worrying that his brother would wake any second, Choso became bolder. He was seemingly unable to decide where to place his hands now that he finally had you under him. You wrapped your hands around his wrists and guided his hands to your chest, prompting him to cup your breasts. He got the message loud and clear, giving them each a soft squeeze. He trailed his hands down to the hem of your shirt and slid his hands under the material, pulling it above your head and tossing it to the floor of his bedroom. He returned his hands to your covered breasts, kneading them through your bra before he hooked his fingers under the fabric and pulled it down.

He let out a shaky breath, entranced by the vision you made beneath him, the very picture of beauty and femininity. You watched him as he drank in the sight, resisting the urge to pull him where you wanted him. Unable to resist any longer himself, Choso lowered his face to your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and tweaking the other between two fingers. You gasped as he suckled at the tender flesh, and your hand flew to the back of head, winding your fingers in his dark hair. He released your nipple with a pop, and tilted his head up to see you already looking at him. “Don’t stop,” you whined, already missing the warmth of his mouth on your body.

“Don’t worry, I'm not stopping til we both feel good.” As he said that, he switched sides and continued his ministrations, dragging his free hand down to the hem of your shorts. “Let’s get these off, yeah?” You lifted your hips to aid in his efforts, and they soon joined your shirt on the floor.

Choso placed his hands on the outside of your thighs, using the thumb of one hand to toy with your clit through your panties. You moaned at his touch, his name slipping from your lips. The sweet sound of your voice was music to Choso’s ears, and he was determined to hear as much of it as possible. He leaned down to kiss you, swallowing every gasp and moan, his lithe fingers bringing you to the edge faster than you ever thought possible. All too soon, he removed his hand, but you quickly realized he was true to his word and far from done as he slid his hand beneath your panties.

He chuckled against your lips, “You're so wet and I've barely done anything.”

You turned your face to the side, using one hand to cover the blush spreading across your features. As endearing as your bashfulness was, Choso wanted you to be as comfortable with him as possible. He took your wrist in his hand and pulled it from your face, instead placing it atop the painfully throbbing bulge in his pants. “You don’t need to be shy with me. I want you just as bad, if not more. Wanted you since the moment Yuji first brought you home.”

“Really?” you asked, wondering if both of you had been ignoring your feelings for each other all this time.

He nodded. “Really. Still remember the first time I saw you. You were wearing that cute little skirt with the laces in the back, and all I could think about was what it would be like to fuck you in it. You’ll have to wear it for me next time, hm?”

Next time.

“Only if you put in your piercings.”

He laughed at that. “Whatever you want, princess.”

You were both there gazing at each other like fools, the distance slowly but surely closing between you. The kiss was searing, and you were abruptly reminded of the need you felt as Choso made quick work of your bra and panties, leaving you bare beneath him, despite the fact that he was fully clothed. He attached his lips to your neck, sucking dark marks that Yuji would surely see tomorrow morning, and dragged two of his fingers through your folds, gathering slick with his fingers before pushing in. You moaned at the intrusion, your walls clamping down tightly on his fingers. You could feel Choso grin against your throat as he curled his fingers into you, pulling them in and out slowly. Your gasps and moans increased in both tempo and volume until he removed his fingers altogether.

Your protests died in your throat as you saw Choso prop himself on his knees as he removed his shirt, revealing the toned body you had no idea he was hiding beneath his usually baggy tees. He removed his sweats and boxers next, his stiff cock slapping against his stomach. He resumed his position between your legs and stroked himself a few times before lining himself up with your entrance.

He pushed in slowly and you would have screamed from the pleasure of him stretching you out if it wasn't for the hand that swiftly covered your mouth. “I know, baby, I know, but you can’t be too loud.”

He continued to push into you, and every time you thought you had taken all of him there was more. Just when you were sure you couldn't possibly take any more, you felt his balls press firmly against your ass. You were so full, more than you ever had been in your life.

Choso sighed as he filled you completely, the velvety softness of your walls sucking him in greedily. “Oh God you feel too good,” he whispered, the words strangled as he struggled to keep himself still, giving you time to adjust to his size. He watched the way your chest heaved up and down with every labored breath, the way your eyes were glazing over in ecstasy, and the way your sweet cunt fluttered around his cock.

He couldn't take it anymore when you thrust your own hips upwards, the involuntary movement all it took to snap Choso’s composure. He pulled out almost completely, before sinking back in a single thrust. The way your cunt swallowed him so eagerly had him on cloud nine. How had he gone for so long without knowing the bliss that was being inside you.

His cock continued to drill in and out of you, his grunts of pleasure mixing with your moans. The delicious sounds you made spurred him on, and he quickened his movements. He no longer cared if Yuji heard. Let him. Let him know how good Choso made you feel. You were his best friend, but as of now you were also Choso’s girl.

You felt yourself going stupid with the pleasure of having him inside you, his name the only word you were capable of saying. He knew you were close, and he wanted more than anything to feel you clench around him as he brought you to the height of pleasure. He brought his hand down to rub circles against your clit, doing his damndest to make this the best you’ve ever had. “C’mon, baby, cum for me. You can do it. Cum around my cock, show me how good I make you feel.”

Those words were all it took to have you falling over the edge, pussy clenching tightly around Choso, whose own orgasm was triggered by yours. He moaned loudly, feeling too good to worry about volume. He continued to thrust into you as you each rode out your highs, his cum leaking out around him with every push into your used hole.

As soon as the waves of pleasure died out, pulled out and collapsed on top of you. Your pants mixed together as he lay with his head on your chest. You brought your hand up to card your fingers through his hair, and he hummed at your soft touch.

You continued to do so until he propped himself up on his elbows, his face mere inches from yours. “Would you go on a date with me?” he asked nervously.

A broad smile spread across your face, ecstatic that he wanted more from you than just sex. “I’d love to.”

A smile of his own mirrored yours as he surged forward to capture your lips with his own, the happiness exuding from him almost palpable. When he broke the kiss, he rolled off of you and onto his side, pulling you into his chest as he did so. With Choso’s arms wrapped securely around you, you both drifted off in the comfort of each other’s presence, unaware that it was the exact position a younger brother incapable of knocking would find you in in the morning.

[tpwk-formula1]

Figure It Out - Landoscar***

SUB! Lando Norris X SWITCH! Oscar Piastri X SWITCH! Reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! I write for all drivers on the grid!

Summary: After Monza tension is at an all-time high in their shared apartment.

Authors Note: I've been writing for Kinktober and have been loving it so I decided to write a kinky little piece. The urge to post my Kinktober fics early is strong but I'm holding off. THIS IS NOT PROOF READ

TW - MxM action (Hand jobs and blow jobs), face sitting, slight masturbation, squirting, slight degrading

WC - 1500+

Y/N POV

"Just shut up, Lando," Oscar finally snaps at his complaining teammate turned boyfriend.

"Don't fucking talk to me like that," Lando replied back clearly still pissed off at the whole situation.

"Lando, on the track we are drivers. The whole point is to race each other that's exactly what I did," Oscar continues to defend his bold actions.

"I get that, and I don't even care about the fucking overtake but you could have done it during one of the straights not the first fucking chicane," Lando continues ranting allowing his voice to raise more as he continues talking.

"Both of you shut the fuck up," I finally snap making both of my lovers fall silent. It was rare for me to yell especially when it came to getting in between them when they were arguing about a race.

"Lando, I understand why it's frustrating, you're fighting for a championship while also defending against Charles and Oscar I understand being frustrated over your race result but both of you guys need to work together to make sure to secure constructors. To be completely unbiased here, Oscar the overtake was risky and luckily both of you guys are amazing drivers and were able to survive but Lando is right, it might have cost you guys too much time ruining the chances of a 1-2. However, Lando that does not excuse your actions either. Both of you guys love each other and you need to remember at the end of the day you got points and a double podium," I tell them softly to fend up to keep listening to them yell at each other.

"But babe," Lando started to complain before I sent him a quick glare making him shut up without finishing his statement.

"Both of you strip and go lay on our bed," I tell them both without even looking up at them going back to the book I was reading before they started arguing. When I don't hear movement I look up to find them both staring at confusion.

"Did I stutter?" I ask again a little more firm than before. Both of them shook their head before slowly making their wait to our room where I could hear them starting to strip down. Neither of them are talking but I know for a fact they're staring at each other. Mad or not they love each other and if anyone can turn them on it's each other.

With the layout of our apartment, I can hear every little sound they're making even if they're talking in hushed whispers.

"Lando, how long is she gonna leave us here?" I hear Oscar ask making me smile softly. I knew it was only a matter of time before their anger turned into sexual frustrations. Whether they will ever admit it or not after a bad race weekend especially one pitting them against each other the only way to fix it is to fuck it out of their systems. Sometimes it involved using my body and other times it was them using each other. Those were always the best ones to watch.

"Osc, please stop touching my thigh," I can hear Lando whimper which tells me right away who will be taking the lead tonight.

"Lando, we're sitting on the edge of the bed it isn't intentional, stop being petty," Oscar snaps back slightly, clearly just as frustrated as his boyfriend.

"I need, Y/N," Lando finally whispers out. Oscar doesn't say anything in reply which has me slightly confused until I can hear the tell-tale signs of Lando being touched in some way.

"Fuck," Lando gasps out before I suddenly hear them start to make out quite aggressively.

"Osc, please," Lando begs slightly making my pussy start to throb.

"You're gonna wait to cum until our pretty girlfriend decides to stop playing games with us," Oscar whispers to Lando making me smile. In that moment I made the decision to listen to Lando continue to whine and beg.

I stand up quietly before stripping down and sitting back on the couch with my legs spread wide open. I bring my fingers down to my pussy before I start teasing myself.

"What if she doesn't come in for a while," Lando asks Oscar making me smile cause we all know damn well I'd be in there as soon as I couldn't handle the teasing anymore.

"I bet you anything, she's sitting on that couch with her hand in her panties right now listening to you beg and whine like a little whore," Oscar tells Lando making both of us gasp at his harsh words.

In all honesty, it was rare for Oscar to be the dominant one between the two but it was always a favorite of mine cause he was just a different kind of cruel than when Lando is being the dominant one.

I can hear some movement before the sound of one of them spitting.

"Please Osc," Lando whines out again which tells me Oscar has to be the one on his knees teasing Lando. I can hear the sound of Oscar's wet hand moving up and down Lando's hard cock, which has him whing and gasping at the sensation.

I know how impatient Lando can get, so I decided to put him out of his misery by getting up and making my way to our room. When I get in there I can Lando's head thrown back while Oscar is taking him down his throat.

I make my way over to Lando where I grab his face before placing my still wet fingers into his mouth making him moan at the taste of my pussy.

"Look, she's come to save you. Maybe you'll finally be allowed to cum, but of course, you're gonna have to earn it first," Oscar teased Lando, making him whine around my fingers that were still in his mouth. When I pull them out I lean down and start making out with Lando. I can taste a hint of my juices which just makes me moan into his mouth.

"How are you already soaked," I hear Oscar ask clearly having seen just how turned on I was.

"You know I like when you take control Osc," I whisper once I pull away from the heated makeout session. It doesn't take me long to feel Oscar's fingers plunge right into my dripping pussy making me let out a gasp before moaning loudly against Lando's lip.

It's not long before Lando becomes a whimpering mess which tells me that not only is Oscar fingering me he's also giving Lando a handy.

"Fuck," I whine dragging out the word clearly overwhelmed with everything around me.

It's not even two minutes later that Lando is begging Oscar again.

"Please, Oscar. I'll be good. Please," Lando is begging as much as possible while also trying to keep kissing me.

"Our pretty little slut gets to cum first," Oscar tells Lando making me whine. This has Lando reaching down just enough to start playing with my clit trying to bring me over the edge faster.

"Oscar, please," I moan out once I feel my orgasm getting close to the edge.

"Cum for us," Oscar tells me making me instantly squirt all over both of the boys. Once my orgasm has concluded I hear Oscar tell Lando to cum which has Lando instantly tensing before releasing a high pitched whine before cumming all over Oscar's hand.

"Here," Oscar says while presenting me his cum covered hand which has me instantly licking all of Lando's cum off of it. Once it is clean enough for Oscar he climbs into bed pulling me with him to sit on his face.

"Get to work," Oscar tells Lando which has him shuffling around to get on his knees and start talking Oscar into his mouth.

Once Lando has settled into a good pace Oscar starts eating me out like it's his last meal on Earth. With one hand gripped on the headboard for stability before I tangle my fingers into Oscar's freshly cut hair. I know I'm pulling at it just right when I hear Oscar gasp at the slight pain I'm causing to his scalp.

"Fuck," Oscar moans out shortly after I hear Lando gag slightly on Oscar's cock. I can tell just from the sounds Lando's making he has all of Oscar's cock down his throat right now.

"Close," Oscar gasps out before instantly going back to focusing on my clit which also brings me closer to my second orgasm.

I hear Oscar groan out against my pussy signifying that he's cumming which has me tumbling over the edge with him.

Still slightly shaking I feel Lando lightly lift me off of Oscar before bringing me into his chest for a cuddle. Something that was always a part of our aftercare routine.

"How'd you know that would work," Oscar asks chuckling a little before placing a soft kiss on my lips preventing me from answering right away.

"We've been together for over a year. I know how you guys get," I reply back making both of the boys laugh a little.

Once everything has calmed down around us we all get up before getting into the shower together which inevitably resulted in a round 2.

[keikikait]

ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴍᴀɴ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

this is part two. for part one, click here!

read the prequel series here!

pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 3.4k

summary: rafe is trying to be a better man for you, but for a second he's his old self again

warnings: angst!, insecure(?) rafe, rafe & reader argue, rafe gets uhh.......... a little violent, rafe chokes the reader (non-sexual), literally pure angst. just a big argument

a note: i'm sorry for the angst, but rafe is a flawed character. ik i just posted my jj fic but i was almost done with this one, and it's a lil short so you get two :P

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

After holding Rafe in your arms, letting him feel your pulse so he can remember that you’re here, alive, and safe, he finally lets you clean his knuckles.

Rafe sits on the couch with you on his lap, facing him, a black towel spread out over the ivory fabric, just in case any blood dripped. The couch was $4,000, he wanted to protect it maybe even more than he wanted to protect you. Your legs are on either side of his hips, and he grips your thigh with one hand while you tend to the other.

You’ve been quietly cleaning his knuckles, swiping them with the isopropyl alcohol pad after giving them a warm soapy wash. Rafe sits back in his seat, looking down at you with a slight frown on his face. His knuckles are bruised purple and red, and dried blood cakes the skin near his fingers. He winces a little bit when you get closer to the cuts, but he doesn’t try to pull away. He moves his other hand to gently run his fingers through your hair, pushing it out of your face.

Your voice is quiet when you speak. “Why do you let them get to you?”

He lets out a small sigh as he runs his fingers through your hair again, his eyes focused on the side of your face. “I hate when they talk to you like that,” he mumbles. “I can’t just let them get away with it, baby.”

“That’s just how JJ is,” You say, brushing another isopropyl pad between his fingers. “Even before you and I started dating he would talk like that.”

His jaw clenches. He remembers all the times that JJ would disrespect you, and he would have to sit idly by the sidelines and pretend that it didn’t bother him. “I hate it,” he grumbles. “I should’ve beaten his ass the first time he said something like that.”

“He’s just… still upset with me,” You sigh, grabbing the box of woven knuckle bandages. You had bought them months ago after Rafe got into a fight with Pope, and thankfully you kept them around. You pull one out and open it, carefully wrapping it around the knuckles above his pointer and middle fingers. “He’s still upset with me for dating you, still upset with me for leaving The Cut. He’s just upset.”

“He’s got no reason to be. Not with any of it,” Rafe sighs. “You’re better off here,” He watches you quietly with his eyes, not even flinching when you finish wrapping around his knuckles, moving on to the next finger.

“I went from being one of his best friends to dating one of his mortal enemies,” You say, moving on to bandaging the rest of his fingers. “I went from being his friends with benefits to fucking his least favourite person in the world.”

“You’re better off with me,” he repeats, his fingers clenching a little bit in his lap. “You don’t belong with them. You never belonged with them.” He watches with dark eyes as you finish wrapping his fingers, his eyes shifting between the way your lips gently kiss his hand after you’re done bandaging it and the way your thighs squeeze around him, his cock starting to harden underneath you.

“They’re allowed to be upset, Rafe,” You say gently, moving on to his other hand. “JJ and John B.”

He lets out a scoff as he shakes his head. “No, they’re not. They don’t get to be upset because you’re happy.” He reaches up and grabs your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Look me in the eyes, and tell me you’re happy with me.”

His rough touch shakes you slightly, but you quickly refocus. You look him in the eye, unblinking. “Of course I’m happy with you, Rafe.”

He doesn’t break eye contact either, his eyes searching yours. He’s looking for the slightest hint of uncertainty or hesitation in your eyes, but you seem to be telling the truth. 

His fingers loosen their grip on your chin, his hand moving to rest against the back of your neck as he pulls you closer to him, pressing his lips against yours, his free hand going to press his thumb against your pulse once again. His kisses are possessive and dominating, but passionate nonetheless. You kiss him back, careful not to touch the raw skin on his knuckles. You try to pull away, but Rafe refuses, gripping the back of your head and pulling you back in.

He holds your face close to his, his teeth sinking into your lower lip, gently biting down as his tongue pushes past your lips, deepening the kiss. His large hands go to your hips, pulling you further into his lap. He groans when your thighs squeeze his. “I want you again, baby,” he murmurs, a hint of desperation in his voice.

“Rafe, I gotta finish bandaging your knuckles,” You say gently. “I can’t let them get infected.”

He lets out another frustrated sigh, his eyes closing for a moment as he struggles to remain patient. “Baby, I need you,” His hands grip your hips tighter, gently pulling you against him again. “Please,” he almost whimpers as he buries his face in your neck.

“After I’m done,” You say, pushing against his chest so he lays against the back of the sofa. “Now hold still.”

Rafe groans in frustration when you push him back, opening his eyes to glare at you. “Don’t you get it, baby? I need you. I already waited long enough.” he whines, the whine changing into a groan when you finish bandaging his knuckles, his hand balling into a fist.

You stand up, gathering all the trash. “You’ll wait until I give you permission, Rafe.”

He watches you stand up, groaning before resting his head on the back of the sofa. “Give me permission?” he scoffs. “That’s not how this relationship works, baby.”

You take a deep breath, leaning one hand against the kitchen counter. Rafe was stressed out, high on adrenaline from his brush with JJ and John B. You know he didn’t mean those things, but you couldn’t help but get annoyed. “That’s exactly how this works. You don’t get to fuck me until I say yes, Rafe. That’s how consent works.”

He sits up almost instantly when you mention consent, his eyes locking on yours from across the room. “Consent?” he repeats, the word feeling bitter against his tongue. He had never forced you, but the accusation hurts his pride. He stands up, his jaw clenched tight as he strides towards you. He glares down at you, his hands balling into fists once again. “What the hell are you saying, huh?” his voice is low and dark. “I’ve never forced you into anything.”

“I know you haven’t,” You say, moving away from the counter. “But I don’t appreciate you saying that you don’t need my permission, when you do.”

Another scoff comes from his lips, and he takes another step towards you, his hand going to grab your side. “You think that’s how it works, baby? Huh?” he chuckles, his fingers digging into your soft skin. “If I want something, I get it, when I want it. It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to give it to me.” He eyes you up, squeezing you. “I just wanna mark up that pretty little body of yours enough that guys as far north as Raleigh know it belongs to me.”

He wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be different, he wasn’t supposed to be like-- “You’re acting a lot like the old Rafe right now,” You say, standing your ground. “You’re acting a lot like the Rafe I don’t like.”

He can’t stop the scowl that forms on his face when he hears your words, a look of anger, and even hurt, in his eyes. He hates that you’re seeing him this way, and that he can’t seem to stop himself, but being compared to his former self makes him furious. He takes another step forward, his hand moving up to wrap around your neck again, his grip just a little too tight. “You don’t know when to shut up, do you, baby?”

Something switches in your eyes. You were no longer confident and standing up for yourself, you were scared. Your eyes widen ever so slightly, and your shoulders tense, your body instinctively leaning away from him.

That’s the reaction that he was looking for. He can feel the way that you tense underneath his fingers, and his eyes darken when he sees the way that your face morphs with fear. Rafe takes another step towards you, pinning you against the counter, his hand still around your throat, fingers tightening around it. “I like you a lot more when you stop talking back to me, sweet girl.”

This wasn’t supposed to be happening. This wasn’t your Rafey, the gentle Rafe who would shower you with presents on your period and rub your back when you had bad cramps. This wasn’t the Rafe who would pick you up and spin you around, peppering your entire face with little kisses when he went too long without seeing you. This is the old Rafe, and you don’t like him.

Your memories flash through your mind, one after the other; Rafe bullying you and chasing you out of Kildare Academy, Rafe throwing things in class when he was angry, Rafe getting drunk and driving dangerously during tailgate parties. You close your eyes, trying to push them away, but they fill your lungs like poisonous gas; infecting you with memories of Rafe screaming, yelling and threatening you, threatening to throw you off of the yacht party you snuck onto one time even though it had already left the dock, threatening to destroy your father’s business if you ‘didn’t get your worthless Pogue ass out of Figure 8.’

“Let go of me,” You finally find your voice, although you struggle to keep it even. “Please.”

He’s so caught up in his anger and bitterness that he doesn’t even register the pleading in your voice. “Please?” he scoffs, mocking you as his eyes trail up and down your face. “Who are you to tell me, please, baby? You’re my girl.” He moves in closer towards you, and his hand presses down a little tighter around your neck, his body so close to yours now that he has to look down at you. “I swear, you’re too cute when you try and act all tough, sweet girl.”

“You’re hurting me.” You manage to say, eyes wide and terrified.

He finally seems to realise the situation. Rafe stares down at you quietly, his fingers loosening their grip around your neck when he sees the fear on your face and hears the desperation in your voice. His eyes widen almost instantly, guilt and shame filling him as he registers the way you’re shaking. “Baby,” He finally mutters, his voice hoarse. He pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

“No, no!” You push him away, body trembling. “Please…please don’t touch me.”

He feels his heart break when you push him away, and he takes a step back. “Sweet girl…” He starts, his voice trembling as guilt fills him. It takes everything in him to not reach out and try and wrap you up in his arms, and he raises his hands to show you that he won’t touch you again. “Baby, please… I didn’t mean it,” he pleads, his voice low and full of emotion. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t trying to—”

“I don’t like this Rafe,” You say, shoulders shaking as you start to cry. “I don’t like him at all.”

Seeing you cry is what breaks him the most. “My love, please, please,” he pleads again, taking another step towards you. “I won’t do it again, I swear, I’m sorry,” Rafe is desperate for you to let him hold you, but he knows better than to try and touch you right now. “I’m so sorry, baby, I promise, I didn’t mean to. Don’t cry, please, baby, please don’t cry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You don’t get to treat me like that,” You say, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “That’s how the old Rafe treated me, the old Rafe that followed his father around like a dog, trying to do anything for his attention. You’re a different person now, aren’t you?”

He grimaces when you bring up his father, and he hates being reminded of that Rafe. He hates remembering who he used to be. He breathes out your name, shaking his head and taking another step forward. “I swear I’m different, I swear to you, I’m different. I’m a better man now. You make me a better man, my love.” he hesitantly reaches out to touch you again, his hand coming to cup your cheek. “I swear. I’m so sorry, beautiful, don’t cry, please, God, I’m so damn sorry.”

You let him cup your face, but you don’t lean into his palm as you normally do, and it kills him. He can tell that you’re still uneasy, and that fills him with a deeper guilt that burns through his chest like a fire, pain and regret stinging him at once. “Baby,” he begs for you to look at him, to forgive him. “Please look at me, beautiful. You have to believe me, I’m not like that anymore. Please, don’t cry over something I did…please,” his hand starts to gently rub your cheek.

“Rafe, please…” You whisper. “Please don’t do that anymore.”

“I won’t,” he says, desperately needing you to believe him. It hurts him so much to know that he terrified you. “I swear, my love, I won’t do it ever again, you know that. I just lost control for a minute, that’s all.” His hands go to gently caress your upper arms, his fingers rubbing over your soft skin.

You bring him into a hug and the moment that you touch him again, he lets out a deep sigh of relief, and his arms go around you, holding you closely to his chest. His hand goes to the underside of your jaw, and he finds the thudding of your pulse. He rubs his thumb over the skin of your neck, the thumping feeling so comforting to him, you were always so comforting to him.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, although you don’t know why you’re apologising.

“Shhh,” he responds, shaking his head and pulling you closer to him. “No, I’m sorry, baby. Please, don’t apologise to me when it was my fault, it’s always my fault.” His nose goes to bury against the crook of your neck, and he inhales deeply, smelling you in his arms, in your shared home. He needed you, he needed you so badly, and seeing you afraid of him had been so upsetting.

“It’s not always your fault,” You say. “Don’t say that.”

“It really is, my love.” Rafe sighs against your neck, inhaling again. He can’t help himself, he just needs to smell you, your skin mixed with the scent of the perfume he got you. He can still feel the way that your body had tensed beneath his grip, and it makes him sick to his stomach. He had been just like his father in that split second. There was no difference between the two of them at that moment. His hand moves to the back of your head, and he turns his own head to bury his face into your hair, taking another deep breath.

“I don’t like seeing you angry,” You say. “Especially when it’s because of fucking JJ and John B.”

He lets out a groan when you mention the two of them again, his fingers tightening their grip on you. “I really hate those goddamn Pogues,” he mumbles against your neck, his breath hot on your skin. His lips press soft kisses against your shoulder, his hands slowly relaxing. “They just piss me off, baby. They piss me off so damn much.”

You reach up, lightly scratching your nails along the back of his buzzed head. “What did you fight about? Earlier, before our date.”

“Those assholes were just running their mouths, talking about you, saying that you belonged with them, not with me,” he mumbles, nuzzling you again. “I don’t think either of those fucks realise that you chose to be with me.”

You sigh, rubbing your thumb across the nape of his neck. “I’m not surprised that they’re upset, Rafe. They probably think you’re blackmailing me or something. You used to hate me. You used to threaten me.”

“They should give me a little more credit,” he mumbles against your skin, shivering when your fingertips gently drag down his neck. His arms move to wrap around your waist, pulling you against him. “I did use to hate you. Hated you and I don’t even know why. I just hated you for years. And that was stupid, baby. I was stupid.”

“I think you hated me because I was a Pogue,” You say. “Or, because I am a Pogue. I think you hated me because I talked back to you, because I wasn’t scared of you or your dad.”

Rafe shakes his head against you, his lips moving to plant a soft kiss on your shoulder. “You were always brave, speaking to the old me like that,” he says, rubbing the side of your waist. “You never hid from me, you never cowered like most of the Pogues. You always looked me right in the eye, and talked back at me, and you don’t even know how hot that was.”

You can’t help but laugh, continuing to lightly scratch along his head. 

He smiles against your shoulder when he hears your laugh, his lips moving to kiss up the side of your neck, his hands slowly trailing down your sides. “It's true,” he mumbles, moving back up to kiss just below your ear. “Most girls, Pogues, fuck even some of the Kooks, always ran away from me. They looked terrified, and I revelled in it. But you never did. You always stood up for yourself, and that was so fucking hot.”

You continue to hold him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Before our date… did you swing first?”

Rafe lets out another small sigh, a hint of a scowl forming on his face at the reminder of the fight. “No,” he mutters, his fingers flexing against your hips. “Goddamn JJ swung at me first, like always. I was just defending myself. But Ward used to tell me that if they strike first, then you hit them twice as hard, and that’s what I did.”

You sigh. “At least there’s that.”

His lips go to the soft skin behind your ear, gently pressing kisses against you. “I’m sorry, beautiful,” he mutters, his breaths tickling your ear. “I’m so goddamn sorry for putting you through any of this. I’m sorry for being like this, I’m sorry for being just like Ward. I swear to you, I wasn’t trying to... I wasn’t trying to do that, I just got so angry—”

“Shhh,” You pull back, bringing one hand to cup his face, rubbing your thumb across his cheekbone. “It’s okay.”

He leans into your touch when you caress his cheek, and he leans in when you pull away, his body seeking your comfort. “It’s not okay, and I know that,” he whispers, his eyes closing when your hand cups his face. “You were scared, you were scared because of something I did. That’s not okay, and I swear to you, that it's not going to happen again.”

You lean forward and kiss his forehead, leaving your lips against his skin for a few seconds.

Rafe’s eyes stay shut, one of his arms going around your back to keep you close against him. “Please, baby,” he whispers, shaking his head. “I need you to believe me. I swear to God I won’t let it happen again. I swore I’d never be like Ward, and I’m not going to let that happen again. I’m a better man now, and I don’t want to be the reason you look so fucking scared like that. Never, not ever.” 

Rafe pulls back, cupping your face. “Do you forgive me?”

You hesitate before nodding, speaking softly. “Of course I do.”

You forgive it all as it comes back to you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg, @bacardisworld, @jkrafe, @teenwolfbitches28, @watchmerora, @drewsphswife, @otheliesstuff, @gilwm (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

part 3?