#anyway. they can love each other and have a good working relationship and still have unresolved issues.

[justarkive]

TABLE 3 | JJK ch15

“For good service, and cute waitresses.”

pairing: pre!military jk x waitress/secret fuckbuddy!oc

Before Jungkook enlists in the military, his life takes an unexpected turn when he visits a local restaurant with friends and meets a waitress who doesn’t recognize him. Surprised by your lack of star-struck reaction, Jungkook finds himself drawn to your down-to-earth nature, especially his previous struggles with the pressure of constant drama on social media regarding his relationships. Little do you know, Jungkook is about to leave for the military, which inevitably bring’s complications to their connection… do they find a way to fix it?

warnings: profanity, angst, humour, fluff, celebrity au, idol!jungkook , mentions of other kpop groups/idols, inner conflict, insecurity,

chap contents: its fluffy at the start, jk tries to tell oc but it doesnt work out, ur so oblivious, kissies nd hugs, dinner w the parents (whoopsie) oc finds out FINALLY in the WORST way possible.

wc: not that long

this fic is not meant to represent the real jungkook or any other characters mentioned!

taglist: @jenniebyrubies @dreamersparacosm @darklove2020 @rayyrayy10 @elinaki92 @alana4610

a/n: the chapter weve all been dreading is here </3, but anyways, how do u guys think it went? was it unexpected?? the next chapter will be way more angsty but i had to leave it onn a cliffhanger LOL. IM EXCITED TO PROGRESS BROOO IMMA START WRITING CH16LIKE RN. as always Ty for reading my loveliesssss

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The first thing Jungkook registers is warmth. Your warmth. The way you’re curled into him, breathing soft and steady, completely unaware of the weight pressing down on his chest.

He should get up.

That’s what he always does—slips out of bed before you wake, padding quietly to the kitchen to make breakfast. He loves seeing your half-asleep, delighted expression when you find food waiting for you. Loves the way you blink at him in surprise, like you still can’t believe he’s there.

But today… he doesn’t want to. Today, he wants to pretend. Just for a little while.

Before he inevitably has to wipe that smile off your face and tell you.

Before it’s the last time doing this with you.

Jungkook watches you, the way your lashes flutter against your cheek, how your lips part slightly with each exhale. His throat tightens at the thought that in three weeks, he won’t be here. He won’t wake up to this. Won’t wake up to you.

He nearly cries.

His head is propped against the pillow, warm, heavy eyes tracing over you as you breathe steadily beside him. The sheets have fallen just enough, exposing your bare legs, the curve of your thigh, the way your sweatshirt dwarfs you.

He swallows. Looks away.

God, he’s down bad.

But mostly, he’s endeared.

Because you’re so comfortable around him now. Now, you curl into him instinctively. Now, you leave your things in his bathroom without thinking.

Now, you make him feel like this is real.

Like you’re his.

He could stay like this all morning.

But then, you stir.

And before he can even think about it, he’s leaning in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You groan.

Eyes still shut, you scrunch your nose. “Gross.”

Jungkook just grins.

“You love it.”

Your eyes flutter open, squinting up at him. “You’re so annoying.”

“You’re beautiful.”

You blink.

Then, your face heats, and you roll over, reaching for your phone.

Jungkook scoffs. “Wow. Ignored.”

You mumble something incoherent, already scrolling through your notifications.

And that’s when he realizes—this is the moment.

He should say it. Now.

Before breakfast, before the day starts, before he has a single chance to chicken out again.

So he clears his throat.

“I have something to—”

Ping.

You cut him off immediately.

“Oh my god, Nari texted me.”

Jungkook’s jaw clicks shut.

You sit up, eyes glued to your phone, grinning at the screen. “She woke up and immediately sent me, and I quote—‘Bitch, I had a dream that I got lost in Jungkook’s apartment. It was just endless hallways, and I couldn’t escape.’”

You snort, amused. Jungkook exhales, not amused.

But he doesn’t try again.

Not yet.

And then you move, shifting closer,nuzzling into his shoulder with a sleepy hum.

Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut.

You don’t notice how stiff he’s gone, don’t notice the way he bites the inside of his cheek just to keep it together. He’s never been good at this—holding back. He’s always been all in, always felt things too deeply. And right now, he feels like he’s breaking.

“I have something to tell you,” he murmurs. His voice is hoarse, unfamiliar even to himself.

You don’t hear the weight behind his words.

Your stomach rumbles and you giggle.

And just like that, the moment is gone.

Jungkook exhales, staring at the ceiling again, willing the burning in his eyes to disappear. You don’t notice. You’re too busy reading whatever nonsense Nari sent you, letting out a quiet laugh before typing back.

So he doesn’t say it.

Instead, he just watches you. Watches the way you stretch, the hem of your hoodie riding up your thighs as you move. Watches the way you rub at your eyes, still too sleepy to be fully coherent.

And when you start to sit up, he acts on impulse.

A firm arm wraps around your waist, tugging you back into him. You let out a small yelp, but he just buries his face in your neck, exhaling deeply.

“Mmm, stay longer,” he mutters, voice still thick with sleep.

You hesitate for only a second before melting into him, pressing your face into his chest. “You’re so clingy,” you tease, but your arms loop around him anyway.

“Yeah,” he admits easily. “I am.”

You don’t pull away. Neither does he.

You stay like that for what feels like forever, tangled together in a mess of sheets and sleepy warmth, neither of you in a rush to move.

Eventually, though, reality calls.

You get up first, dragging him to the bathroom where you both brush your teeth side by side. He watches in the mirror as you grumble about your bedhead, fighting with your hair while he stands there, letting the mundane normalcy of the moment soak into his bones.

It’s so unfair.

The two of you make your way to the kitchen next, where you start pulling out ingredients while Jungkook leans against the counter, watching.

“You gonna help, or just stand there looking pretty?” you ask, raising a brow.

Jungkook grins, pushing off the counter. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you groan, smacking his arm with a spatula.

He laughs, dodging your half-hearted attack before reaching for the eggs. You cook together, bickering playfully the whole time—him attempting to take over, you pushing him aside with a dramatic sigh of exasperation.

Jungkook had planned to say it during breakfast.

It was perfect—just the two of you, sleepy and slow, in his kitchen.

He imagined it before you woke up: Standing beside you, cooking together, stealing little kisses, pretending you’re dating for real.

But he can’t get a damn word in.

Because today, of all days, you are so chatty.

Like, more than usual.

“Did you see that video I sent you the other night?” you ask, flipping through your phone as you sit on the counter, giving up helping him, legs swinging. “The one of that guy falling off the treadmill? It made me think of you.”

Jungkook—who currently has taken over with the breakfast, thank you very much—pauses.

“Excuse me?”

You smirk. “I feel like you would fall off a treadmill.”

Jungkook scoffs, placing eggs on a plate. “I am literally one of the most physically fit people you know.”

You tilt your head. “And?”

“…And I don’t fall off treadmills.”

“Not yet.”

He glares. You grin.

But again—he hesitates.

He should just say it.

He opens his mouth—

“Oh, wait, also—” You cut in again, oblivious to his crisis.

And just like that, he misses his chance.

Again.

Because you don’t stop.

You ramble about your weird customers at work, about how Nari got hit on by a drunk guy at the diner, about how you’re craving something sweet, maybe pancakes, but not the diner’s pancakes, because they taste like sadness.

And Jungkook just—listens.

Because he can’t help it.

Because he loves listening to you talk.

Even when it’s keeping him from saying what he needs to say.

Even when he’s running out of time.

Jungkook gives up.

For now.

You’re too happy, too talkative, and every time he tries to squeeze in a serious conversation, you effortlessly derail it with another story, another joke, another distraction.

And honestly?

He doesn’t even mind.

——

The food turns out better than expected. You both sit down at the table, and for a moment, it’s perfect.

Too perfect.

He needs to say it.

He needs to tell you.

“Hey…” Jungkook starts, but you’re already cutting him off, rambling about something completely unrelated. He tries again, but every time, you interrupt yourself with another tangent.

He doesn’t mind.

Loves the way you talk, loves the way your thoughts jump from one thing to the next without warning. He lets you go on, a soft smile playing on his lips, even as his chest feels heavier with every passing second.

“That was good, huh?” he says, nodding toward the empty plates.

You hum, licking sauce off your thumb. “I give it a solid 8.5 out of 10.”

Jungkook gapes.

“Excuse me?”

You shrug, smug. “Points deducted for lack of pancakes.”

Jungkook scoffs. “You said diner pancakes taste like sadness!”

“Not homemade pancakes.”

He narrows his eyes at you, shaking his head as he stands up to collect the dishes. “Ungrateful.”

You just grin, watching as he rinses the plates before stacking them in the sink.

“Oh, my parents are coming to visit tonight.”

Jungkook blinks. “Wait, what?”

You glance up at him, sipping your juice. “Yeah. They’re in town for the weekend, so I’m gonna have dinner with them tonight.”

“Oh.” He pauses. “So you’re going home?”

“Yeah.” You shoot him a look. “Why? You sad about it?”

He doesn’t answer fast enough.

“Oh my god, you’re so clingy,” you tease, kicking his foot.

Jungkook exhales a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I am.” He rolls his eyes, walking past you—until you reach out and grab his wrist.

“Then come.”

Jungkook freezes.

His head turns so fast you almost laugh. “What?”

“Come meet them,” you say simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “My mom would love you.”

Jungkook stares.

He expected you to laugh it off. To tease him for even suggesting it.

But instead— Instead, you’re serious.

You actually want him to come.

And suddenly, the weight of his secret comes crashing down on him all over again.

He shouldn’t do this.

He shouldn’t pretend like this is normal. He shouldn’t accept this invitation, knowing full well he’s about to destroy everything you think this is.

But—

The way you’re looking at him right now—

Soft. Open. Like you trust him.

And fuck, he doesn’t want to let you down.

So he forces a grin, nudging your knee with his.

“Is this it?” he teases. “The meet-the-parents moment? Should I bring flowers? Shake your dad’s hand like a man?”

You laugh.

But he’s not laughing.

Because meeting your parents means something.

It means you see him in your life for real.

And he—he won’t even be here in three weeks.

But instead of saying that, instead of being honest, he just smiles, leans closer, and murmurs, “Your mom’s gonna love me.”

You grin. “That’s what I said.”

And just like that—he’s agreed to come.

Even though he shouldn’t.

Even though he knows this is going to make everything so much worse.

But for now, he lets himself have this.

Because if this is all he gets before everything falls apart—

He wants to make it count.

——

You get dressed in what you came in—your hoodie and sweatpants, both slightly wrinkled from sleep. Jungkook watches from his place on the bed, hands behind his head, eyes hooded as you gather your things.

“You’re just gonna leave like that?” he asks, voice still thick from the morning.

You shoot him a look. “What’s wrong with this?”

He shrugs. “Nothing, just… thought you’d wanna freshen up before you go.”

You narrow your eyes. “You just want me to shower here.”

He doesn’t deny it. Just tilts his head, smirking.

Ten minutes later, you’re in his bathroom, sharing a toothbrush holder with him like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

The shower is familiar—you blush from the memories of it last night. You bicker over water temperature, flick suds at each other when you think he’s not looking. He kisses your wet shoulder at one point, and you shove him away, half-laughing, half-exasperated.

After, when you’re brushing your teeth again, you leave your toothbrush in its usual place next to his. He doesn’t say anything about it, but he stares for a beat too long, something unreadable in his gaze before he looks away.

And then comes the usual argument.

“I’ll take the bus,” you insist, slipping on your sneakers.

Jungkook snorts. “No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I will.”

“No, you won’t.” He’s already grabbing his keys, like he knows he’s won this fight before it’s even started.

You groan. “Jungkook, you don’t have to drive me—”

“I want to drive you,” he says simply, holding the door open for you. “Get in the car, baby.”

You grumble under your breath, but ultimately, you do.

The drive home is quiet, comfortable. His hand rests on your thigh absentmindedly, thumb brushing over your legs. You watch the city pass by through the window, messaging Nari a quick otw home, mom n dad r coming later text before tucking your phone away.

When you pull up to your apartment, he turns to you. “Text me what time I should come later.”

“I will.”

Jungkook leans in, kissing you slow, like he’s savoring it. You don’t question it, just press into him, fingers curling around the collar of his hoodie.

You pull away first. “See you later?”

He nods, lips still slightly parted. “Yeah.”

And then you’re out of the car, climbing the stairs to your apartment.

——

You expect Nari to be dead asleep when you walk in.

She’s been knocked out for the past two days, after all, barely responding to texts, dead in your bed from your hell sent night shift, only waking up for food and bathroom breaks.

But instead, you step into the apartment and—

“YOU’RE BACK!”

You startle, nearly dropping your bag.

Nari is sprawled out on the couch, bright-eyed and looking suspiciously well-rested.

You blink. “Weren’t you, like…dead?”

“I wasn’t dead, I was recovering,” she corrects, stretching like a cat. “I had a very intense weekend, okay? I deserved to sleep like I was in a coma.”

You roll your eyes, kicking off your shoes. “Sure. So, what? You just woke up?”

“Mmm…” She pretends to think. “Like, an hour ago.”

You squint at her. “So you were only asleep for, like, half of the past two days?”

“Correct.”

“And what did you do for the other half?”

“Laid here. Watched TikToks. Waited for you to come back and tell me everything.”

You snort, flopping onto the couch beside her.

She immediately grins, wiggling her eyebrows. “Sooo… How was it?”

You raise a brow. “What? Breakfast? My drive home? Be specific.”

“Bitch.” She glares. “You know exactly what I mean.”

You laugh, leaning back. “It was… good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah. Good.”

She narrows her eyes.

Then—her expression shifts, turns cheeky.

“Did you guys have another round this morning?”

Your jaw drops. “NARI—”

“WHAT?” She cackles. “It’s a valid question! I mean, he sounded like he was gonna eat you alive over text last night!”

You groan, covering your face. “Oh my god.”

She nudges your leg. “So? Did you?”

“NO.”

She squints. “Damn. Missed opportunity.”

You throw a pillow at her.

She wheezes.

“Bitch, we need to clean.”

You blink. “Not tired anymore?”

“Yeah, but I’m wide awake now,” she says, already yanking a pile of laundry off the couch. “I miss your mom. I can’t wait to see her. This place is a disaster.”

“Who said you were staying?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Me,” Nari says, completely serious.

You roll your eyes, but you don’t fight her on it. Instead, you both spend the next couple of hours speed-cleaning, stuffing random things into closets, wiping down every surface. The place looks clean, even if it’s mostly an illusion.

Then comes the cooking.

You find a recipe for roasted chicken, following a tutorial step-by-step. It seems easy enough—until the kitchen fills with smoke, and the chicken looks questionable at best.

“It said 400 degrees for 20 minutes, how is it still raw?!”

“Did we even preheat it?”

“Oh my God, Nari.”

You and Nari are standing in the kitchen, staring at the baking sheet in horror. The chicken you so proudly marinated is still looking suspiciously pale.

Your kitchen looks like a warzone. Flour on the counter. Herbs spilled. Something is burning, but neither of you know what.

Somewhere along the way, the sauce burns, the seasoning is questionable at best, and the chicken looks vaguely threatening.

At one point, you both step back and stare at it.

Then, at the same time—

“Yeah, we can’t serve that.”

You groan, wiping your hands on a towel. “I need to run to the store.”

“Want me to come?”

“Nah, stay here. Keep an eye on things.”

Nari salutes. “Aye aye, captain.”

And with that, you grab your jacket and head out.

——

You smooth down your sweater, taking a deep breath before opening the door.

When you return, bags in hand, you expect to just see Nari lounging around.

But instead—

Jungkook is there.

Already inside, casually chatting with Nari like he owns the place.

The second he sees you, he grins.

You roll your eyes. “You’re early.”

“You sound upset.” He steps forward, taking the bags from your hands like it’s second nature.

“Because I am.”

He laughs, setting the bags down before tugging you in for a quick kiss.

It’s warm, familiar, and despite your fake complaining, you let yourself melt into it.

Nari watches, arms crossed. “Ugh. You guys are gross.”

Jungkook pulls away just enough to smirk. “Jealous?”

“Of you? No. Of Y/N? Absolutely.”

Jungkook snorts, and you just shake your head, smiling.

For a moment, it’s perfect.

For a moment, you think tonight will be fine.

And then you freeze.

“…Did you cut your hair?”

Jungkook stands there, hands in his pockets, hair shorter than before. It’s not buzzed, but the longer strands are gone, leaving it neater, more structured.

He runs a hand through it. “Yeah. I… have a shoot coming up.”

You tilt your head, inspecting him. “You look good, but… I kinda liked the mullet.”

He snorts. “Did you?”

You nod. “It was hot.”

He doesn’t say anything, just smiles, but there’s something off about it. Like he’s holding something back.

Because he is.

Because he knows this isn’t for a shoot.

Because in a few weeks, it’s all coming off.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he just lets you pull him towards you, lets you run your fingers through his hair, lets himself enjoy this moment.

Even if he knows it’s borrowed time.

——

The three of you are sprawled out in the living room, waiting.

Jungkook is beside you on the couch, lazily letting you run your fingers through his freshly cut hair while he scrolls through his phone. Nari, on the other hand, is laser-focused on the chicken.

You don’t miss the way she keeps side-eyeing it like it might disappear if she blinks too long.

“Nari, stop eyeing the chicken,” you deadpan, flicking her arm.

She groans dramatically. “But I’m starving—just one bite?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

She makes a whining sound, but you stand firm. Meanwhile, Jungkook is just watching the whole interaction, shaking with laughter, like this is peak entertainment.

“You two are unreal,” he mutters, grinning.

And then there’s a knock at the door.

You immediately straighten up, running your hands over your sweater as if there’s invisible dust to wipe off. Nari lets out an excited gasp.

“Oh my god, yes,” she whispers, giddy.

Jungkook, however, noticeably stiffens. His fingers twitch against his thigh, and when you glance at him, you catch the way his jaw flexes.

You reach for his hand, squeezing lightly. “You’ll be fine,” you reassure him. “I promise she’ll love you. They’ll both love you. But… just a warning, they’re very energetic.”

“Very energetic,” Nari adds. “Now hurry up and open the door before they break it down.”

You roll your eyes but step forward, unlocking it.

Your parents arrived late, obviously.

And they do so with energy.

Your mom practically bursts into the apartment, already talking.

“Y/N! Oh my god, we hit so much traffic—your father missed the exit—oh, honey, come here, let me see you.”

You barely get a word in before she’s already hugging you, pulling back to hold your face between her hands.

“Hi, Mom,” you laugh, hugging her back.

She pulls away to cup your face, eyes scanning you like she’s checking for signs of distress. “How are you? You look so pretty! Have you been eating well? Are you sleeping enough?”

Behind her, your dad is eyeing the situation with a small smirk. “Yeah, hi to you too,” he says, voice dry but amused.

“Hi, Dad.”

You barely get the words out before your mom moves on, immediately turning her attention to Nari with an excited gasp.

“Oh my god, Nari! Look at you, gorgeous as ever—come here, let me see you!”

And just like that, you’re shoved aside.

Nari giggles, soaking up the attention like a sponge, while you turn to your dad. He gives you a knowing look before pulling you into a quick hug.

“Surviving?” he asks.

“Barely,” you deadpan.

He huffs out a chuckle. But before either of you can say more, your mom’s voice cuts through the room like a siren.

“Oh, my daughter in law! You look so good! Have you been eating? You’re glowing!”

“Mom.”

“Oh, hush. If I had a son, I’d marry him off to Nari immediately.”

Nari grins, dramatically flipping her hair. “You hear that, Y/N? Your mom has taste.”

Then—your mom turns and sees Jungkook.

And oh. Oh, Lord.

Her hands fly to her chest.

“Oh my goodness.”

Jungkook blinks, startled.

Your dad lets out an approving hum, arms crossed, nodding slowly, as if analyzing Jungkook’s existence.

“So this is him, huh? The singer boy?”

Jungkook laughs nervously. “Uh—yeah. Hi.”

Your mom immediately grabs his hands, beaming.

“You are so handsome! Look at you! Wow, Sweetie, you didn’t tell me he was this gorgeous in person!”

Jungkook’s ears turn red.

Nari, watching from behind, cackles. “Oh my God.”

Your mom ignores her.

“Oh, sweetie, you must be tired. Are you eating well? Do you need anything? Can I get you something?”

Your dad claps him on the back. “Strong handshake. I respect that.”

Jungkook is getting smothered.

You just stand there, watching, amused, arms crossed, letting him suffer.

Then, finally, your mom turns back to you.

“Alright, let’s eat! I’m starving. And I brought real food, don’t worry.”

You don’t question how she knows youd fuck up the food.

Nari snorts. “Yeah, thank God.”

And just like that, your parents have fully claimed Jungkook as their own.

Nari and your mom settle at the table, chatting away like old friends, while your dad stays standing, arms crossed as he eyes the chicken suspiciously.

Meanwhile, you’re in the kitchen with your mom, helping her unpack the food she thankfully brought.

“Sweetheart,” she suddenly sniffs, “it smells like smoke in here.”

You freeze for half a second before continuing to open containers. “Huh?”

She gives you a look. “Did you burn something?”

“Yeah. No. Yeah. Yeah, Mom.”

She sighs, clearly so used to this. “Good thing I brought food, then.”

You nod, relieved.

As you both carry the dishes to the table, Jungkook instinctively gets up to help. But the second he moves, your mom waves him off.

“Oh no, no, no, sit down, sit down, relax.”

Jungkook hesitates. “Uh… no, I’ll help.”

“Really, I—”

“I insist,” he says, already reaching for a dish.

Your mom pauses, then huffs out a chuckle. “Oh, alright then. What a gentleman.”

Meanwhile, Nari—who has been waiting for this moment—immediately lunges for the chicken.

She does not hesitate.

It’s like she hasn’t eaten in weeks—just shoveling food onto her plate like a woman possessed.

“Jesus, Nari,” you mutter, watching in horror. “Pace yourself.”

She barely acknowledges you, already halfway through her first bite. “I told you I was starving.”

Jungkook chuckles, finally seeming to relax as he takes a bite of his own food. There’s still a bit of nervous energy in his shoulders, but it’s nowhere near as tense as before.

As the dinner settles into an easy flow, your mom and Nari fall into conversation, as they always do.

“Nari, what happened to that boy you were talking to?” your mom asks mid-bite. “Do you have a boyfriend yet?”

Nari immediately launches into a dramatic rant about Men and Their Many Flaws, and your mom nods along, engaged as ever. They have a weirdly close bond—it’s been that way for years.

Meanwhile, your dad turns to Jungkook.

“So,” he says, eyes flicking to Jungkook’s arm. “Did your tattoos hurt?”

Jungkook blinks, glancing down at the ink covering his skin. Then he shrugs, casual. “A little.”

Your dad hums, contemplating. “I wanna get one.”

Jungkook perks up. “Oh yeah? What are you thinking of getting?”

Before your dad can answer, you cut in.

“Dad, you’d cry the second the needle touched your skin.”

Your dad scoffs, affronted. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Yes, you would.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“I literally saw you tear up when you stubbed your toe last time we had dinner.”

“That was different!”

Jungkook is trying so hard not to laugh.

“I’m big and tough, just like Jungkook,” your dad insists, puffing out his chest.

“Sure,” you deadpan.

Your mom, barely paying attention, waves a hand. “Anyway—”

And then, suddenly, all eyes are on Jungkook.

“So,” your mom says, tilting her head, “how did you two meet?”

Jungkook blinks, clearly not expecting to be put on the spot. But after a moment, he smiles. “At the diner.”

“Oh my god,” Nari suddenly cuts in, turning to your mom. “Did you know Y/N didn’t even realize who he was at first?”

Your mom, still eating, barely reacts. “Oh, I’m not surprised,” she says, waving her fork. “She was never really into that kind of stuff.”

Jungkook laughs, glancing at you.

Your mom, however, suddenly gasps.

“Oh, Jungkook—you should meet her cousin. She is obsessed with you.”

You groan. “Who?”

“No, really! Albums, posters—your face is everywhere in her room!”

Jungkook’s eyebrows lift in amusement. “Oh yeah?”

You sigh. “Yeah, I know. She’s obsessed.”

Jungkook grins. “Next time, bring something and I’ll sign it for her.”

Your mom gasps. “Oh my god honey, she would die.”

Your dad, who has been quietly observing this whole thing, suddenly leans back with a smirk. “Alright, son,” he says, “I like you.”

And just like that—Jungkook is in.

Before you even realize it, half the chicken is gone.

You glance over at Nari—and yeah.

It was her.

Your parents immediately notice.

“Oh, sweetie,” your mom coos, pushing her plate toward Nari. “You must still be so hungry. Here, have some of mine.”

Your dad follows suit, sliding his dish over. “Yeah, come on. Eat up.”

Nari stares at them in horror.

Because, in reality, she is stuffed. Absolutely miserable. But she’s also too deep in the bit to stop now.

So she swallows thickly, nods, and—forces another bite.

You watch in pure amusement as she struggles, her expression slightly green, but still determined.

Jungkook notices too, chuckling quietly.

Then—your mom leans in, casual as ever, and asks:

“So, Jungkook.”

Jungkook looks up. “Yes?”

She smirks. “Are you in love with my daughter?”

You nearly choke.

Jungkook freezes, caught so off guard that he blinks—mouth slightly open.

Your dad, on the other hand, grins, immediately jumping in to tease.

“I don’t know how you could be,” he says, shaking his head dramatically. “She burned the chicken.”

You gasp. “How did you know?”

Nari, still trying not to die from fullness, weakly raises a hand. “It’s… pretty obvious,” she mutters.

Your dad cackles.

Jungkook, still flustered from the question, simply shakes his head with a small laugh, covering his mouth.

The conversation continues on—shifting topics, flowing naturally, Jungkook settling even more into the comfortable chaos of your family.

Then, out of nowhere, your mom casually says—

“Honey, did you know your cousin finished his enlistment last week?”

You blink. “Who?”

“Your cousin. He just got discharged.”

“Oh.” You nod, remembering. “Yeah, Mom. I miss him. We should visit sometime.”

Your dad hums. “We definitely will. He’s not busy anymore.”

Jungkook listens quietly, still chewing—but then—

Your mom turns to him.

And she asks—so casual, so normal—

“Jungkook, honey. When will you be enlisting?”

[dragon-susceptible]

Lissa

I'm having some thinky thoughts about Lissa, Viren's ex-wife, Soren and Claudia's mom.

So from the way Claudia talks about her in season 2, she and Viren fought a lot, it wasn't a good environment for kids, and then she and Viren pressured their kids (each no more than 5) to decide which parent to stay with. I'm a little suspicious of the details here because how are you remembering that much at 3 years old, Claudia, and why would any adult expect you to make that kind of decision when you're still learning how to make sentences? Anyways my suspicions on the details aside, the major events of them fighting and Lissa leaving are backed up in Viren's story in Arc 2.

Here's the thing. I trust Viren's account more not because I trust him all that much more, but because he didn't actually let anyone see it. I think he was genuinely being vulnerable, being weak, and that's why he couldn't let Soren actually see it in the end.

So in Viren's account, he and Lissa weren't fighting all the time. It was something that developed in their desperation to help Soren, who was suffering with his breathing illness. Ultimately, it explodes into Viren physically assaulting Lissa for her tears to work the spell to fix Soren's lungs, which he frames as saving him. Lissa left him very quickly after that.

So here's the thing. We don't know enough about Lissa to really judge her. I could see how this might be a case of an immigrant woman who found herself swept away by this charming Katolian aristocrat, who maybe had a temper but he wasn't violent with people, generally, and genuinely loved him and built a family with him. Then one day he snaps, and she finds out he can be violent with people too, actually, even with her, and she's terrified and horrified, but - but he did it to save their son. She can't stand staying with a man who would hurt her like that, but if he's willing to attack her for Soren, surely he'll be willing to do anything to protect their children. They'll be safe with him, they'll be well-off with him. So when Soren clings to him she lets them stay, but has to leave for her own safety no matter how much that hurts, and because she has to cut Viren out so much, she never realizes how badly this backlashes on the kids.

Or she could have resented Viren, resented their relationship because how dare fate hand her the suffering of her firstborn, and then her husband turning abusive on top of it, maybe she was glad to be rid of all of them when she left

Hell maybe it was all an excuse and she's just a transient asshole who was looking for a reason to leave, and Viren just gave her one on a silver platter when he assaulted her

Maybe she was a genuinely loving wife and mother right up until it came to the issue of dark magic, and she hated Viren for using it on Soren and believed Soren to be "tainted" with it and that's why she didn't fight for them. Or maybe it was only an issue because Viren targeted her for the materials for dark magic, and it's not about the magic but every time she looks at Soren now she sees his father's cold face while he hurt her.

There's so many ways she could be a fucked up individual, and some of them she's not even the asshole. Maybe she genuinely thought the kids would be better off with Viren and she just had to stay safe, and that it would be better for them if she just disappeared instead of making them deal with the complications of parents who won't see each other. They were so young when she left, I can follow the reasoning. I think she's wrong, but I can understand it. Or she could be a bitch for any number of reasons.

Both of the kids seem to remember her with some level of resentment, but Claudia was so young she's likely pulling mostly from Viren's feelings about her. Soren talks as if he resents her but he keeps a portrait of her tucked into his armor, so he must have some . . . Curiosity, at least, or hope. It's just really interesting to think about.

[odileeclipse]

BYE I forgot to sign off my🃏anon status.... It was me that talked about how to fix your posting problem LMAO happy to help! I ate up the chapters anyways they were SO GOOD

anyways. onto the fun stuff. I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY?????? With the new chapter, does this mean that the cookie closest to MC is technically Earl Grey? Then again, it makes sense, because Earl Grey has that stability to back up MC's nervous thoughts and general lack of self esteem that Chai Latte generally doesn't have. Kinda like they complete each other? How they are complete opposites but can bounce off each other so well.

I think you did a wonderful job creating the sense of disconnect the Sage feels when seeing MC with someone that's similar to him but NOT him, and how he feels out of place in the friend group for just a moment. It gives a sense of realism because to think that the person you want to get to know and want to see all their possible sides has other people who have seen them more intimately than he ever did. OUGHHH The jealousy was GLORIOUS I loved it very much. It showed Sage that although the MC is someone slowly creeping in the cracks of his heart, he has to face the fact that they may treat others as warmly or even more warmly than him. That their relationship isn't as mutually exclusive as he once deemed it to be.

It makes me wonder if before they (MC) might have developed just a small crush on Earl Grey???? Or maybe the other way around. The kind that was fleeting and was overshadowed by their camaraderie, mostly.... or it could just be a Jo and Laurie (Little Women) thing where the feelings were there, but MC or Earl Grey confused the other as the love of their life instead of the light of their life.

This makes for a really, really good dynamic though since Earl Grey and Shadow Milk are very similar, and this may be a cause for Doubt for the Sage since right now he and MC have this unseen gap they can't bridge partly due to how MC still sees him in a higher than life itself light due to their insecurity that they may never reach his level as equals. UGHHHH ODI YOUR STORY IS WONDERFUL HANDS DOWN

apologies for the long yap I really really enjoyed this sm and analyzed it down to the very letter 😭, I hope you continue on blessing us with this wonderful writing. I'll eagerly await it!! Always take your time though, and take breaks!!

-🃏

My computer shut down as I was replying and my answer got deleted im gonna crash out

But like I was saying...MC isn’t necessarily closer to one friend over the others their group is balanced, with each person playing a role that complements the rest. Earl Grey may be the grounding one, offering stability when MC’s insecurities spiral, but that doesn’t make him the closest, just the most steadying presence. Chai Latte brings warmth and energy, while Hazelnut, though not as much screen time(writing time), is the glue that holds them all together his absence is always felt, even if he isn’t always the most vocal all the time. Their dynamic works because they complete each other, each friendship filling in the gaps where the other might not. And while there may have been a time when MC and Earl Grey wondered if their bond could be something more, they naturally settled into friendship, realizing that loving each other platonically simply made the most sense.

For Shadow Milk Cookie, though, that balance is something he can’t quite slip into. He sees the way MC fits so naturally with their friends, the way their dynamic is effortless, and for a moment, he feels like an outsider looking in. He may share similarities with Earl Grey, but it only makes the contrast sharper MC never placed Earl Grey on a pedestal, never hesitated the way they do with him. And that divide, however unintentional, lingers like an unspoken truth between them. And even further down the line, even when they themselves (MC and SMC) feel there is no divide between them, the reality is there always will be a line between them, not because they can't work through it but because it's not easy to take someone off a pedestal.

[undead-moth]

I know I've been on about this for a while now and I'm being a hater but you're telling me SydCarmy was "always meant to be platonic" even though there are two seasons of writing making use of tried-and-true explicitly romantic tropes, themes and writing signals, and SydLuca is going to be romantic because...he was nice to her on screen for a few minutes?

I don't even care if people ship SydLuca, or if they just prefer it, but you can't honestly tell me that you believe Carmy was always meant to be a friend but Luca is an obvious love interest.

Just because Syd and Carmy haven't kissed or confessed their love to each other doesn't mean that isn't very obviously the direction this show is going. The Bear has already shown you who is endgame. It has shown you every episode of the show so far.

Honestly I really don't think The Bear fanbase understands this show or cares about these characters or the story being told here, which is unfortunate because this show is shockingly well-written in comparison to most shows right now, and we should be so grateful for it but all we're doing is complaining that the writers led us on by not making a ship canon fast enough. It's just. Sad.

[dawdlecentric]

Man, this doujin isn't fucking around

Meanwhile, Seikuri in the background...

Doujin: Flashbackers by Totobe

[cleromancy]

ppl who are like "everyone is reading red robin wrong, there's no tension anymore between dick and tim, everything was completely resolved, look at these panels see they're completely fine :-)" im always like. Did dick tell you that

[choixsimple]

the most insane thing about actual true love (for lack of a better term), other than the fact that it does exist, is that it is impossible to explain to someone who has not experienced it firsthand.

that thing in books and movies where a character feels a tug toward someone and suddenly it's been like two days and they're so in love they're willing to die for each other? that feeling really happens, and I'm not talking about infatuation or one-sided pining. in a real, mutual, soul-melding, incredible kind of way where you realize together, at the same time, that you are going to be in each others' lives forever. it doesn't even feel optional. this person is yours and you are theirs and that's just a new law of physics, actually.

it's absolutely impossible to describe to people because it sounds patently insane. it sounds delusional. it sounds like hopeless romantic fiction. but it's actually real life. it's rare, sure, and you never know when it'll happen to you, but it does happen, and it's unlike anything else.

my relationship is even harder to explain because i met my husband eight years ago, we felt that connection immediately, moved around the country, got married and settled down... only for both of us to feel that instant connection again. with someone who also felt that rubber band snap into place... with both of us. neither of us thought twice when we all realized what happened. it was the world's shortest discussion. and now there are three of us. and i get to spend forever with two incredible people who are the true loves of my life.

but also. this is impossible to explain satisfactorily to anyone who hasn't experienced this kind of love, and even then, the fact that there's three of us adds another layer of obfuscation — not that anyone outside of the three of us needs to understand, really, but i'm just so incredibly happy. and i want to tell everyone on earth about this.

[honeyhotteoks]

always only you (c.sc)

summary: the date was terrible, awful even, but you just can't call your brother to pick you up. you have to call his best friend instead.

note: hi um....... i'm back and a seventeen stan now????? don't worry, i'm still working on ateez fic, but s.coups has taken hold of my brain and i needed to get this one out there so..... pls enjoy

warnings: non idol!seungcheol, fem!reader, older brother mingyu, seungcheol is mingyus bff, reader is called a sl*t in a mean way by her shitty date, v protective cheol, reckless driving, unprotected sex (wrap it up dont be like them), reader is curvy and descriptors like full, thick, etc. are used throughout, makeouts, grinding, cheol is obsessed with pussy, i mean fr he's a bonafide wap enjoyer, an oral aficionado of the wettest kind, anyways there's oral sex f receiving, hand stuff, rough fingering, rough but passionate sex, use of baby and princess, creampies b/c lbr he's gotta, anyways they're obsessed with each other

pairings: s.coups x reader

genre: smut and more smut, childhood friends to lovers

word count: 14.2K

It was a bad date. 

Not the worst date you’ve ever had, granted, but still pretty up there in terms of terrible. He left an hour ago, the minute you interrupted his monologue to tell him that you were pretty sure things weren’t going to work out. You’ve never had someone leave in the middle of a date before, but then again, you’ve never actually told someone the date was bad in the middle either. 

Not being able to find the right guy is starting to feel embarrassing. It’s been years since your last relationship and months since you even had a second date. Naively, you had had such a good feeling about tonight and having to be proven wrong at breakneck speed before you even got your entrees feels like some kind of poetic karma for something you must have done. You just wish for once you had kept your mouth shut, but your good feeling had been infectious and your excitement about the date bubbled up out of you to your friends and your coworkers. 

You just wish you never told Mingyu. 

I have a really good feeling about him. That’s what you told your brother on the phone a few hours ago. We’ve been talking for a few weeks, I think you’ll really like him.

Stupid. 

You should have known he was on the rebound from the suspiciously large gap in photos on his Instagram. You should have known he was just trying to sleep with you from the minute he commented on your dress, from the way he touched your shoulder for too long for the first hug. You should have known on top of all of that that he would be boring from his joking non-answer when you asked about his most recent read. Sometimes it takes all of those things wrapped up tightly together and shoved directly in your face from across a dining room table to know for sure. 

You just wish you never said a word to Mingyu. You don’t want to see that look in his eyes when you tell him he wasn’t the right guy. His eyes always go soft, mouth downturned, and it kills you every time because he means it when he says - You’ll find the right guy soon, anyone would be crazy to not love you. 

Tonight you really don’t want pity, you don’t think you can handle it. 

“Are you ready for the check?” The server’s voice snaps you right out of your thoughts and you look up at his sympathetic smile. 

“Sorry,” You manage, “yes,”

“No rush,” He lies, immediately producing the leather billfold and sliding it across the tablecloth. 

The floor doesn’t start to drop out from beneath you until you open it, despite having to sit here and eat your pasta alone. This place is expensive, more expensive than you thought. 

Your eyes run through the bill. Four cocktails, two appetizers, two entrees, one slice of cherry cheesecake. The bills your date left on the table just barely covers three cocktails. You can’t afford this. The prices here were probably nothing for your date given how much he talked about his extremely smart investing strategies, but not for you. 

You do fast math, panic math. 

After paying the bill you’ll have 9,600 won in your debit account. You get paid tomorrow so it’s not the scariest number you’ve ever seen in your account, but it’s definitely not enough for a taxi home. 

Your stomach churns. 

You pay the bill quickly, quietly, the server’s hovering presence by your shoulder enough to tell you there is in fact a considerable rush. Your card is returned to you in moments, and he places a brown paper bag in front of you, “There’s an extra slice of cheesecake in there for you,” he says, “I’m sorry about your date.”

He’s gone before you can say thank you. 

You suppose you can’t really sit inside anymore if you’ve paid the bill and you’re holding a to-go bag, so you step out into the chilly night air. It’s been raining lately, but barely. It’s been cloudy more than anything, and yet here you are walking outside into the cold night air and a late autumn storm of icy rain. 

Your date was a special kind of bastard for leaving you stranded a half hour from your apartment in a storm like this. 

The comments he made about you, about your dress and the way it fits flick through your mind and your jaw draws tightly shut. If you had had the wherewithal in that moment to slap him or toss a glass of water in his face you would have, but instead you sat frozen with your stomach in knots. 

It takes you one flash of rage to scroll through your phone and delete the three dating apps installed, and then you open up your contacts and scroll for your brother’s name. He doesn’t live too far from here, and you know he’s probably out with some of his friends, but if you’re lucky maybe he’s close by. Your finger hovers over Mingyu’s contact, but you can't quite make the call. 

You’re twenty-six, you should be grown up enough to get home by yourself after a bad date and not have to call him to rescue you. Embarrassment floods you, the idea of admitting you can’t afford the taxi tonight just sinks into your bones. You love your brother so much, but the idea of seeing him look at you the way he sometimes does and then slip money into your purse for you to find at home makes you want to cry. You’d call him and you’d tell him you’re returning it and he’d play dumb - What money, y/n? I didn’t put that there, maybe it’s like when you find 50,000 won in your old jeans?

No, you can’t call him. You can’t go over to his lovely little apartment with his absolutely lovely fiance and cry about the sorry state of your romantic life. Nothing about that will make you feel better in this moment, absolutely nothing. 

You scroll away from his contact and you think about anyone else you could call, but there’s only one person who keeps coming to mind. There’s no way he’ll pick up, not when he sees your number on his phone, not after the way you’ve treated him for the past year, but his apartment really isn’t that far from here and if he doesn’t hate your guts you know he’ll at least give you a ride. 

The rain picks up, pelting you hard enough that you have to duck back under the measly lip of the restaurants roof for what cover it provides, and you don’t realize you’re well and truly crying until your cheeks feel warm and wet and you can’t get a full breath, but here you are. Stranded alone, broke, and loveless in an apparently ill fitting dress, and there’s only one person’s voice you want to hear even if it’s just his stupid voicemail box. 

Tears hiccup out of you as you dial, cold fingers shaking as you try to press the numbers you’ve had memorized by heart since you were thirteen and got your first cell phone. 

The phone rings twice before he answers, “Hey, you,” 

The easy sound of his voice makes your tears come faster. Your breath hitches in your chest, “Cheol?”

“y/n?” His voice shifts, “Are you crying?”

“I’m,” You hiccup again, “I’m sorry,”

“Hey,” He tries again, “y/n, is that you?” 

“I messed up,” Your head is starting to throb and you press your eyes closed, leaning back against the cold wall of the restaurant and hiding as much of your body under the overhang of the roof as possible, “I’m sorry to call,”

“That’s okay,” Seungcheol says, his voice sounding strained, “what happened, princess?” 

He hasn’t called you that in years, not since you were fifteen and carrying a torch for him. Not since you made Mingyu tell him to stop. 

“C-can you come get me?” You wish you could just stop crying.

“Tell me where you are,” He answers immediately, and despite the rain you hear the sound of his car keys. 

You give him the name of the restaurant, the closest cross streets, all blubbered out between fat tears and rain drops. 

“That’s…” He sounds distant suddenly and then his voice reconnects, “twenty minutes, okay? I’ll be there in twenty minutes, princess, just take a deep breath,” 

You drag in a shaky breath, “Cheol,” you scrub the tears from under your eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,” 

“Me,” He says, his car starting up in the background, “you always call me if you need me,” 

You haven’t seen him in almost a year, barely talked to him outside of sending reactions to each other's Instagram stories, but he’s coming. 

The way you fell away from him was gradual at first, and then an intentional self preservationist wall. Mingyu had introduced his best friend to a girl, and despite your high school crush being supposedly dead and buried, you weren’t prepared for what Choi Seungcheol in love would look like. You started being busier and busier until his calls went unanswered and then eventually his calls just stopped altogether. Mingyu told you later that the relationship didn’t last, but the damage was done and in the end it was just easier not to reach out first. 

You can’t believe he picked up the phone and you can’t believe the first thing he heard from you in a year was hysterical crying. Taking a set of deep, steadying breaths you wipe away the wetness from your cheeks. Your date had hurt your feelings, but you only let it last for a minute. You wouldn’t let a man with such a fragile ego get into your head, and besides, you’ve always liked this dress. 

Seungcheol makes it to you in fifteen minutes flat. He’s broken at least six traffic laws to get to you, including running a solidly red, redlight, but he really doesn’t care. 

He’s seen you cry before, plenty of times. When you skinned your knee at seven or that time he and Mingyu played a prank when you were eleven, tricking you into thinking you were home alone on Halloween night. He’s seen you cry at movies and at videos of puppies and the sound of moving music, and he remembers your eyes full of glassy tears watching Mingyu graduate college. He remembers the sound of it when your grandmother died when you were nineteen, the way your shoulders shook and your breath wheezed as you hid your face tightly in your brother's chest while he looked on feeling so, so helpless. 

Seungcheol remembers all of it, but he’s never heard you sound like you did tonight.  

Mingyu had said you had a date. Earlier in Seungcheol’s night at a bar not far from his apartment, his best friend mentioned it off hand. Mingyu said it like an afterthought as he answered one of your texts. Seungcheol tried not to notice the way his hand tightened on his beer can, enough to make the aluminum crack inwards on itself where his thumb dug into the cool metal. He tried not to think too much about what that meant, just like he’s been trying not to think too much about you at all lately. 

Now his mind is racing, threading the pieces together as the wet road whips by. The threadiness of your voice turns synonymous with panic in his mind and now all he can think about is how he’ll find you when he gets there. He goes over the facts he knows while he stops behind a small block of traffic, his knuckles white as he grips the wheel. 

A date, a bad date, a date you needed a ride away from. The kind of date you couldn’t tell your brother about, when he knows that Mingyu is always your first call. As the traffic disperses he presses the gas pedal and weaves around the slower cars, images flickering in his mind’s eye. A faceless man looking at you, making you uncomfortable, pressing into your space. His mind loops on the image of an unwanted kiss, of pushy hands finding their way under your blouse. 

By the time he’s skidding into the parking lot of the restaurant his hands are shaking and he’s ready to kill. 

When he sees you, wet and shivering on the sidewalk, he nearly falls out of the car trying to get to you. He leaves the key in the ignition, the door flung wide open with warmth pouring out into the chilly night air. 

He looks flustered, rumpled like he was having a quiet night in. Heavy gray sweatpants that hang just right on his hips and an oversized white shirt. He’s wearing socks and slides and the second you see him it dawns on you that when you called him you must have sounded hysterical because he didn’t even try to dress for the icy weather. 

“You look terrible,” You clap a hand over your lips to stop yourself from laughing, and you can’t believe that’s the first thing you manage to say to him after a year. You hate yourself for having no filter, no off switch, no ability to just be normal and say thank you for coming all this way. 

His expression runs from panic to confusion in a split second, “What?” 

“Fuck,” You laugh, shaking your head, “no, sorry, you look good, but it’s raining like hell, get in the car,” 

He blinks, “y/n,” 

“Come on,” You duck out from beneath the measly roof overhang and dart towards the passenger side door, “it’s freezing, I’ll explain in the car,” 

Your dress is wet, but not soaked through, so you hope you won’t do any damage to his seats as you slide into the warmth of his car and shut the door. It takes him at least thirty seconds to follow you, but through his confusion at your reaction you bet he finally registers the cold wetness of his socks and it snaps him back to reality. 

He leaves the car in park and turns his body to you. 

You owe him an explanation, especially given the way you cried on the phone to him twenty minutes ago, but all you can think right now is that it’s really, really nice to see his face again. His hair has gotten longer, shaggier and curled a little at the neck and it might just be the fit of his shirt, but he looks broader. It’s only been a year, but he looks so much more like a man now. All you can manage is, “Hey, Cheol,” 

“Hey,” He answers, shifting himself further in the seat so that he’s almost twisted up sideways, one leg tucked up to accommodate the position. 

The front of his shirt is damp with rain and clinging a bit to his chest and you look down. You really do not need to be having these kinds of thoughts about him again, it’s only been a minute, ninety seconds at the most.  

“y/n,” He says, his voice slow and soft, “what happened?” 

Shame floods you, heating your cheeks red. 

He stretches a hand across the center console, but he stops halfway, his fingers closing into a loose fist, “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

“I know,” 

“I won’t tell Gyu,” He offers quietly, “just tell me what happened, and I promise, I’ll take care of it.” 

Oh. 

Your head snaps up at his serious tone, “Nothing happened, I’m fine,” 

He looks more confused than before if that’s even possible, and you can practically see him working out his next words. 

“Cheol,” You shake your head, “I’m serious, I’m completely fine, I just needed a ride,” 

“You were crying,” He says, not a question but a fact. 

“I know,” You sigh. 

“You were crying like something happened,” He draws his arm back and runs a hand through his damp hair, “and you called me?” 

“I know,” You repeat, “it was a bad date, but that’s all it was. He ditched me without a ride though and I just,” 

Seungcheol’s lips close at your words as he waits for you to finish. 

“The thought of calling Mingyu and telling him about this just,” You clear your throat to push back a little bubble of emotion, “yeah, I couldn’t do that,” 

“Oh,” His voice drops, and Seungcheol shifts in his seat, throwing the car into drive, “got it.” 

“No, Cheol,” You shake your head, “that’s not what I meant,” 

“It’s fine,” He peels out of the parking lot, “I’ll drive you home.”

He’s angry, pissed at you in that way he gets pissed. Tightened jaw, heavy sighs, his knee bouncing in irritation. If you give it five minutes he’ll tell you what’s bothering him, he’ll say it in a fast rush like he’s more disappointed than mad. You have to let him come to you when he’s like this, no amount of trying to explain will fix it, so you wait. 

The drive is silent, and you fight the urge to jump in with directions when he approaches each light and turn. He knows where your apartment is, he helped you move in four years ago when you graduated college. Mingyu and his friends lifting box after box and telling you to just relax and let the professionals handle it. You smile at the memory. 

He stays quiet until he turns off the major road and down the side streets that will take you to your apartment, but finally he says, “You can’t just call me like that and expect me to drop everything when you have a bad date,” 

“Were you busy?” You didn’t think so judging by the state of his clothes, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility. He could have had friends over, maybe a girl. You wonder idly if he’s seeing someone. 

“That’s not the point,” He glances at you, “and you know it.” 

“I’m sorry,” You tell him, and you mean it, “I really didn’t know who to call, and I just,” 

“What, y/n?” He pushes a little. 

“I just don’t want to tell Mingyu about the date,” You confess, “and I didn’t mean to call you and be such a mess, the date really was bad and I was feeling sorry for myself, and I didn’t have enough money to get home,” 

“What?” He swivels his head to the side for a moment and then refocuses on the road. 

“I would have called a taxi,” You explain, “but my fucking date left and didn’t pay after we ordered all this food and it was more than I was planning for,” 

“He didn’t pay?” He sounds disgusted and you smile. 

“No,” You tell him, “but in fairness, I did tell him in the middle of the date it wasn’t going to work out,” 

He laughs sharply, and you know he’s still irritated but at least he’s listening, “That bad?” 

“Yeah,” You sigh, “but it is what it is,” 

He glances over to you again, “So he walked out?” 

“Basically,” You nod, “he said what he needed to say, dropped twenty-thousand won on the table like that was going to cover anything and walked out. At least now I know he was an asshole, I’m not missing out on anything,” 

“What did he say to you?” His voice pops up an octave. 

You’d really rather not tell him, you’d be fine burying the comment he made deep down inside never to be unpacked again. You shake your head, “It’s fine,” 

“It doesn’t seem fine,” He starts, but you smoothly cut back in. 

“I just didn’t want Gyu to feel bad for me I guess, he knew I was looking forward to the date, and having to call for a ride like this, I don’t know. I was embarrassed,” You explain. 

“I still don’t understand why you called me, though,” He admits, and you can still feel the tension in him even though the conversation has been ebbing and flowing, “I’m not your brother.” 

Irritation sparks in you at the comment, “I know you’re not,” you turn to him, “but we’re friends, aren’t we?” 

“Friends call each other,” He says simply, “don’t they?” 

You let his comment sit in the air between you for a moment, and then you sigh, “Yeah, they do. I’m sorry I disappeared on you like that,” 

“I tried calling,” He says softly, “but you were always busy,” 

“I know,” You breathe. 

He drives further, slower now and safer that you’re in the car, and you can see him thinking through your words. Finally he slides his hand across the center console with his palm turned up, offering you his hand, “y/n,” he says, “are you doing okay? With money, I mean, after what you said?” 

“I’m good,” You tell him, “it was just shitty timing,” 

“If you need anything,” He squeezes your hand as you slide your palm across his, “I’m here, we don’t have to say anything to,” 

 “I’m okay,” You assure him, “but thank you, seriously,” 

He nods, accepting your words, but then he asks something harder, “What did that guy say to you, y/n? I know you, you weren’t crying like that over not being able to get a taxi,” 

You sigh, leaning back in the passenger seat, “Can I ask you to let it go?” 

“You can ask,” He shrugs, “but so can I.” 

You sit quietly, looking at your entwined hands resting on your knee. His thumb strokes over your knuckles slowly. 

“Fine,” You murmur, “he said he didn’t want to date me anyways, he just came to sleep with me,” 

His hand tightens on yours. 

“And if I wasn’t going to fuck him,” You do your best to clean up some of the language he used when he got up from the table, “I shouldn’t have dressed like a slut,” 

You leave out the part that really cut deep, the part that made the more form fitting dress you chose go from sexy to something sour. 

“Give me this asshole’s name,” Seungcheol skids to a stop a little too harshly at the next traffic light and turns to you. 

“No,” You shake your head, “I’m fine now, it just stung,” 

His lips close in a tight line and then he sighs, “I’m so sorry someone said that to you,” 

“Don’t apologize, Cheol,” You squeeze his hand, “you didn’t say it.” 

“I know, but still,” He holds your gaze, “it was mean, and you deserve much better from a guy you’re seeing, and you don’t look like, or I mean, you aren’t a,” 

You smile as he stumbles over his words and someone behind him gently honks the horn enough to let him know the light has gone green. 

He jolts and refocuses on the road, clearing his throat, “What I’m trying to say is that you look nice, pretty. The dress is good, and you, um, you don’t look,” 

“Thank you,” You cut him off, trying to save him from swallowing his own tongue out of embarrassment, and you ignore the way your stomach flipped over on itself hearing Seungcheol call you pretty. 

“Yeah,” He swallows, slowing down to make the final turn onto your little block, “you know what I mean,” 

“Mhm,” You laugh, breaking down any lingering tension, “Cheol, are you a little disappointed you didn’t get to punch my date? Is that it?” 

“Shut up,” He sighs. 

“Aw,” You smile as he pulls into a space by your apartment, “You were worried about me?” 

He rolls his eyes as he kills the ignition, “You were hysterical,” he says, “what was I supposed to think?” 

“Don’t worry,” You smile as he throws open the driver’s side door, “I think it’s kind of sweet that you went all knight and shining armor on me,” 

His lip twitches, “Don’t make fun,” he says, “I thought something bad happened to you,” 

“Nothing bad happened to me,” You find yourself assuring him again even though he already knows this, and you twist the moment back to a joke as quickly as you can, “unless you count listening to a guy talk about his ex for twenty minutes,” 

He grimaces, “Ugh,” 

“Exactly,” 

“Actually, you know what,” He grins, “you’re right, that is a terrible date and you were right to call me,” 

He’s out of the car and crossing to your door and relief floods your chest. Just like that, you’re back to normal. 

Seungcheol pulls open your door to let you out and says, “Do you have a towel or something?” 

“You want to come up?” 

“If you don’t mind,”

“You just swooped in and saved my night, Coups, of course I don’t mind.” He smiles at the nickname, the one mostly used by his friend group and coined by Seungcheol himself during their short lived Soundcloud music career freshman year of college. The nickname stuck, but you and Mingyu knew him before and you’ve both always, always called him Seungcheol. 

He ducks his head, smiles, and follows you up the stairs and into your apartment just like old times. 

It’s a little strange seeing him like this after so much time has passed, but no matter what has happened in your life, even when your childhood little crush on him was making your nights sleepless, he’s always been there. He’s been a constant in your life since you could form memories, and when you really think about it, you’ve never not known Seungcheol. Suddenly seeing him in your living room feels right, and it makes you wonder why you couldn’t pick up the phone and say something real to him this past year.

“It looks good in here,” He offers, toeing off his slides in the entryway and stepping into your little living room, “it looks like you,” 

“Thanks,” You’re pretty sure the floor of your bedroom is still covered in clothes from earlier, but he’s not going to see that and you’re just glad you didn’t let that chaos spillover out here. 

“So,” He clears his throat lightly. 

“Towel,” You jump, “right, hold on,” 

You disappear down the hall and Seungcheol’s chest goes fluttering fast. He doesn’t need a towel, he doesn’t need anything except a pair of dry socks and his own bed, and he can’t figure out for the life of him why he gave into the little voice that told him to come upstairs. You’ve made it pretty clear over the past year or so that you’ve grown up, you’ve made your own group of friends outside of him and your brother and the guys. He doesn’t need to be here, you don’t need him anymore, you just needed a ride. 

But he’s missed you a little. A lot if he’s being honest with himself. Sometimes he finds himself asking Mingyu about you, hoping you might drop by while he’s at his best friend’s place. Your name on his phone screen earlier in the night had stopped his heart cold. He couldn’t imagine why you were calling and not just texting, and he picked up the phone so fast he thought he might have fucked it up and accidentally pressed end. He tried to sound casual, normal, but his heart was pounding. 

Standing in your living room he feels out of place, like a forgotten childhood relic unboxed in the middle of a new home. He doesn’t know which seat to sit in, he doesn’t have his spot on your couch here like he did at your old place. He doesn’t know where you keep your glasses or which remote would switch on the television. He doesn’t know which book you’ve been reading from the little stack on the table or the name of the place you’ve been working, and there’s a man’s jacket hanging on the wall in the hallway that he doesn’t recognize. He hopes it’s Mingyu’s. 

He doesn’t know why he’s here. He should leave. He should go. 

“Okay,” Your voice comes back, and he tears his eyes away from the little details of your life he doesn’t recognize to look back at you, “I’ve got a towel, socks, and I bet I have a sweatshirt of Gyu’s around here if you’re cold,” 

“I’m good,” He recovers, taking the dry items from your hands. 

Your fingers brush along his as you pass everything off and your stomach jumps. 

“Come in,” You wave him in, “I’ll make some coffee or something and then I need to change,” 

“You should get a warm shower,” He says abruptly, “you’ll catch a cold,” 

“I’m fine,” You shake your head, “I wasn’t out there for too long,” 

“I’ll make the coffee then, you need to get out of that wet dress,” He shoos you away and points to your kitchen, “I assume you have a normal coffee machine and not some fancy Italian thing?” 

“I think you’ll be fine,” You smile, “I’ll just be a second,” 

He nods, and you dart back down the hallway to your bedroom. 

It takes you three minutes to change into something comfortable and clean and then kick all of your scattered clothes into the closet and shut the door. You run a brush through your tangled hair from the rain, and you almost forget that your childhood crush is walking freely around your apartment, but then you hear his laugh and you melt into the wall behind you. You missed the sound of it so much, and if you don’t get a handle on this right now you’re going to go out there and make a fool of yourself. 

But then he laughs again. 

You smile as you come back out into the living room, leaving your good sense behind in the bathroom, “What’s so funny?” 

“I haven’t seen these in years,” He grins, and as you come around the corner you realize he’s looking at the photos you have framed and sitting in various spots on your bookshelf. 

“Oh,” You smile, seeing the one he’s holding and studying, “yeah,” 

“This one,” He tips the frame so you can see the picture, but you already know which one, Mingyu and Seungcheol in their first year of college stand in the center of the frame, Wonwoo, Jeonghan, Dokyeom, and Hoshi with their arms thrown around each other on either side. You are crouching in the center with Jeonghan’s little sister, both of you holding out a peace sign. 

“Isn’t this the night we went to that haunted theme park?” Seungcheol asks with a smile. 

“Yeah,” You take the photo back from him and look it over for a moment, “in Daegu,” 

He nods, “I remember,” 

“Yeah,” You place the photo back in it’s assigned spot and turn towards the kitchen, “I just remember you and DK scaring the living shit out of me,” 

“God,” He runs a hand through his hair, “we did, I felt so bad about that after,” 

“Mm,” You laugh. 

“Gyu reamed us out for it later,” He follows you into the kitchen and watches as you pour two cups of freshly brewed coffee. 

“He never told me that,” Your eyes perk up in surprise. 

“He said,” Seungcheol straightens himself up to his full height and lets his face go passive for his impression, “‘If you ever make my sister cry like that again, you’ll be sorry,’” 

“Sorry?” You laugh, “Mingyu wouldn’t know how to make someone sorry if his life depended on it,” 

“I don’t know,” He shrugs, relaxing his shoulders and reaching for his cup, “it seemed pretty clear he wasn’t fucking around, we took him seriously,” 

“Wow,” You lean against the counter, “that’s actually kind of sweet,” 

“He’s always been protective of you,” Seungcheol points out, “even now, he’ll talk about you and I can see it,” 

“I’m not a kid anymore, though,” You bristle a little. 

“He knows that,” Seungcheol shakes his head, “he just worries, you know, it’s his nature,” 

“Yeah,” You nod, taking a long sip of your coffee, “I know,” 

Seungcheol hovers, not finding a place to lean or to sit in the unfamiliar place, and finally he just asks the question that’s been on his mind for the past twenty minutes, “Is that why you didn’t call him? He worries too much?” 

“I guess a little,” You move past him and back into the living room, “come sit down, you’re making me nervous,” 

He blushes and every little emotion you’ve ever had for him comes thundering back in your chest. There are at least three places for him to sit that aren’t directly next to you on the couch, but he ignores every one of them and sits next to you, barely a foot away, and turns towards you so he can put all his focus on you. 

“So,” He prompts you, “come on, it’s just me,” 

Talking to him was always easy, always. Even in the throes of your infatuation you were able to hold a conversation with him, sometimes a long one out on the balcony of your parent’s house. It’s almost irritating how quickly that familiarity and comfort comes back. 

“I just feel like I’ve been really fucking this whole dating thing up,” You confess, “and Mingyu’s been… well you know him, he’s like the number one hype man for me making all my dreams come true, and being ten out of ten happy,” 

“Yeah,” He nods, but lets you continue. 

“But I just haven’t been able to make it work with anyone in a while,” You bite down the reason why in the back of your brain, “and every time I tell him about a bad date he just looks sadder and sadder for me,” 

“Mm,” He nods, sympathetic, “I know exactly what you mean.” 

“I’m so glad you picked up, honestly,” You glance down at the edge of your cup, “you’ve never treated me like that, and I just… I guess I needed a friend and not my brother tonight,” 

He hesitates, but then his hand comes to rest on your knee and he gives you a squeeze, “I get it,” he says, “but, honestly it seems like you’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself,” 

“I know, but,” You sigh, your words dying out as you focus on his lingering hand on your knee. 

“What’s so important about getting a guy right now?” He asks, and you almost laugh at the absurdity of this man asking you that question. 

“Cheol,” You shift on the couch to reposition, pulling back your knee from his touch so you can face him and admit this without being dizzier than you are about his presence, “I don’t know, exactly, but… don’t you feel like living alone is kind of fucking lonely sometimes?”

His eyes flick over you and then he nods. 

The words keep coming as much as you don’t want them to now that you’ve started telling someone, telling him the truth of it and you grimace as you admit it, “The sick part is that I think it’s me. Tonight was the exception, he was a dick, but most of these guys are nice. They’re nice, they’re respectful, they seem to be interested in me, but none of them are what I want, none of them are,”  

You have to stop. You have to get off this topic and off this train before you say something really and truly stupid and burn this newly restored friendship down to ash. 

“Having high standards isn’t a bad thing,” He offers, “and Gyu sets the bar high for how you should treat a woman, I mean,” 

“You think I’m talking about Mingyu?” You laugh sharply. 

“He’s the best guy I know,” He starts to say and then the wheels start turning. 

It happens fast, your absolute lightning quick strike to the match, but your poor decision making usually goes something like this. It makes you mad at first, his constant reference to your perfect brother, but then it all makes sense. Seungcheol really has no idea how you feel about him, as a person or otherwise. It doesn’t enter his brain that the guy who set your standards for men so high might be him, even after he drove illegally fast on wet roads just to come get you because he heard you cry. Up until the last year of your life where you tried to install some distance, he was always there. He was always your first call, always your last call too, and you could never really see anyone else while he was towering right in front of you. He’s never let you down and he doesn’t even know it. 

“I can’t believe you,” The words slip out, and then you’re kissing him. 

He takes a sharp inhale of breath at the way you collapse onto him, holding yourself up with one hand on his chest and the other on his neck, and his mouth is so warm. You press the first kiss tentatively, and then the second a little more insistently, and then you realize he hasn’t moved an inch and isn’t kissing you back in the least. 

You fly backwards, your hand over your mouth, “Oh, god, I’m so sorry,” 

He clears his throat and shifts, shaking his head, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” 

“I can’t believe I just did that,” You blush scarlet, “I’m a mess, I’m so, so sorry, Cheol,” 

“Really,” He avoids your eyes, “it’s fine, it was an emotional night, and you just said it yourself, living alone is lonely. We’re good,” 

“I didn’t kiss you because I was sad,” You run a hand through your hair and slump back on the couch, “I kissed you because you were being a dumb ass,” 

“I feel like you’re insulting me a lot tonight considering I just drove across town for you,” He’s not angry, not really, but he doesn’t let you off so easily, he never has. 

“I kissed you because you’re the best guy I know,” You counter his words back, “and I’m sick of you always putting yourself down when-”

He yanks you forwards by your wrist, and this kiss is what you’ll count forever as the first one. He drags your body forwards as he leans back against the couch and kisses you hard, his tongue dipping past your lips this time, his breath mingling with yours. 

You shift for better purchase, your chest and his flush together, and you moan softly against his lips when his hand slips lower on your waist. 

He breaks the kiss, his forehead leaning against yours, “What the fuck are we doing?” 

“I think they call it making out,” You manage, your heart beating fast like a bird. 

“Jesus,” He shakes his head, “what are we doing?” 

“Cheol,” You start, but he kisses you again, hungrier and hotter as he pulls you in. 

You pant against his mouth, your brain exploding into little fireworks as his hands start to wander, and then he groans, “You feel so good,” 

This is going somewhere fast, and with your hands twisted in the fabric of his t-shirt you swing your leg over his hips and let him wrap his arms around you. 

“We should slow down,” You find yourself mumbling against his mouth, “but I don’t want to, I want you,” 

He nods against you, his hands squeezing your thighs where they rest on either side of him, “I want you too,” 

“We should talk more,” You manage as his kisses travel over your jaw. 

“Later?” He asks, his hands dragging you closer, “God, that dress,” 

“Yeah?” You’re breathless already. 

“If I knew you were going to kiss me I would have peeled it off you,” He pants. 

A moan gets caught in your throat, your hips jerking, nipples hardening against his chest as you throw yourself into another kiss. 

“God,” He shivers. 

“Cheol stay,” You can talk later, he’s absolutely right, and you beg him not to go between kisses, “please stay,” 

Logic starts to pump through him at the implications of that, so much more than kissing comes with staying for the night and he starts to shake his head, but at the way you’re touching him he can’t quite tear his hands away. 

“I should go home,” He murmurs against your mouth, fingers slipping underneath the hem of your t-shirt, “you’ve been drinking,” 

“I had two drinks,” You connect your lips with his again, tongue dipping into his mouth, “like three hours ago,” 

“Still,” He kisses you again despite his words, his hand now flat against the small of your back. 

“I’m not drunk,” You pull yourself closer using his shoulders, “if you don’t want to kiss me, don’t kiss me, but don’t use that as an excuse,” 

“I should go home,” He repeats, like saying it out loud might make his body follow his brain, but it doesn’t. All he does is tug you closer, your legs now fully splayed around his hips as he leans back against the couch and groans against your mouth. 

“I should,” He starts again, whispered thoughts against your lips, but you push back from his chest and break your mouths apart. 

“If you want to go so bad, go,” You pull your arms away from him, crossing them under your chest to hold yourself steady. Your nails press pinpricks into your palms. 

“This isn’t about what I want,” His eyes soften in that tender way you love, and his hand cups your waist, thumb brushing a line over the deep curve of your hip. 

“Why wouldn’t this be about what you want?” You press him, “Or about what I want?” 

“Mingyu is my best friend,” He says, his mouth drawn into a sullen line, “and I never want to do anything that betrays his trust or hurts him in any way,” 

“I’m not asking you to,” Your voice is small. 

“Just,” He sighs, his head tipping backwards against the cushions and his hands slipping to rest over your thighs, “tell me something, okay? Be honest,” 

“Okay,” 

“Do you want me because you’re lonely and I’m here,” He asks, his eyes locked to the ceiling, “or do you want me because you want me?” 

Your arms fall slack and you open your mouth to respond but he presses forwards. 

“Because if this is a one time thing to make us both feel better,” He shakes his head, “I can’t do that, I have to go home.” 

“Cheol,” You murmur, but he doesn’t lift his head. You reach for him, brushing a hand along his cheek and drawing his gaze back down from the ceiling to your face, “Seungcheol, look at me,” 

“Yeah,” He finally follows your gaze. 

“I love my brother, but this isn’t about him,” You tell him clearly, and you watch his lips part so he can cut in but you shake your head, “it isn’t. This is about us, and I’ve had a crush on you since I was fucking thirteen,” 

He blinks, a grin breaking across his face, “You have?” 

“Yeah,” You shuffle closer on his lap, “why do you think I disappeared? You started dating that girl and I just… it wasn’t my place to say anything, it’s not like you were mine, but,” 

He brushes the hair back from your cheek as he nods, “It hurts to see the person you want with someone else,” 

“Yeah,” 

“And you wanted me?” 

You nod, stroking his neck where your hand rests, “I just needed some space after that, I thought I could move on,” 

“I know the feeling,” He smiles, his thumb tender against your jaw, “believe me,” 

“I do,” You nod, “so believe me when I tell you I’ve wanted you for a long time and I don’t just want the one night,” 

He sits frozen, his eyes studying your expression, and then he’s moving. Seungcheol pulls you down to meet his mouth again, hands roughly threading into your hair and gripping your hip as he tugs your bodies flush together. He kisses like you hope he fucks, passionate and a little messy, like his need to be inside you and consumed by you is more important than any vanity. 

“God,” He groans against your mouth, “he’s going to kill me,” 

“Probably,” You huff a laugh against his lips, rolling your hips forwards to slot your bodies together tightly, and at the feeling of his hardening cock pressed against your sex you can’t help the breathy moan that slips out. 

He drops his hands to your hips, coaxing you into rolling them again as he presses upwards and you follow his guidance with ease. He curses softly and you roll your hips again, “Oh, fuck my fucking life,” he groans, kissing his way down your throat, “he’ll kill me, but you’re worth it,” 

“I better be,” You tease him, tugging gently on his hair as he licks a stripe along your throat. 

“Oh, you are,” He shifts back up to kiss your lips again, his mouth pillowy soft and hot against yours, “and I love Gyu, but,” 

“Seungcheol,” You push on his shoulders. 

His rarely used full name gets his attention and he leans back just enough to see your face, “What’s wrong?” 

“Can you please stop talking about my brother while you’re trying to fuck me?” You can hear the whine in your own voice, “I need you right now, we’ll deal with him later,” 

“Sorry, sorry,” He smiles, “of course, come here,” 

You melt into him as he gathers you closer, his warm, rough hands finding new expanses of skin to touch and it’s strange but delicious to know that there are still brand new things you can learn about a person even after knowing them all your life. He gets soft beneath you like butter when you touch his ears, audibly groans when you grind against him, and gets breathier every time you kiss his neck. He’s not afraid to make little noises in your ear, to curse when you do something right or softly beg you to do something again. 

With his mouth on yours and his hands exploring you, you’re just a shaky wet mess in his arms and he doesn’t even fully realize it yet, still so focused on studying your body with his lips, his tongue.

“Ch-Cheol,” You whine as his teeth nip at your pulsepoint, “baby,” 

His hands tighten, sliding to cup your backside through the thin fabric of your lounge pants, “Say that again,” 

“Baby?” 

He exhales hot air across your neck and chest, “God, I like that,” 

“You hate pet names,” You sigh, remembering how his nose always crinkled in an uncomfortable scrunch when he heard people getting too coupley. 

“No, I don’t,” His hand slides up, tucks under the waistband of your pants, and slides back down to feel your skin, “I hate cringey shit. You calling me ‘baby’ while you’re grinding on my dick isn’t cringey, it’s fucking hot,” 

“Ah,” You tug his hair just a little, rolling your hips again, “yeah? Like this?” 

His hips jolt up, pressing his cock against your clothed mound and he groans, “Say it,” he nips at your neck again and then pushes you backwards so that you’re sitting up straddling his lap, “and let me see you,” 

For a brief flickering second you feel shy, another stark moment of awareness that the man between your thighs is Mingyu’s best friend, but it flashes away the minute you see his smile. He’s looking up at you like you invented the sun and you think it just might make you dizzy enough to say yes to anything he could ever ask of you. 

“God,” His eyes rake over you, “you’re so fucking pretty,” 

Blush creeps up your chest, “Yeah, baby?” 

He swallows hard, his hands coasting up your arms and his eyes coming to rest on the heavy swell of your chest, “The prettiest.” His fingers tuck underneath the straps of your tank top and your bralette and he glances up to your face, “Can I see?” 

“Please,” You whisper. 

He moves slowly, peeling down the straps from each of your shoulders first, letting the thin fabric of your tank top droop down your arms until he’s left with just the stretchy elastic of your black bralette. His fingers trace your curves, the pad of his thumb ghosting over one of your hardening nipples until it pushes into a firm peak under the fabric. 

“Cheol, please,” If he doesn’t touch you soon you’re going to be a squirming mess. 

“Relax,” He toys with the strap, “we’ve got all night,” 

You gasp as he dips forwards, peeling the front of your top down entirely until your breasts spill out of the elastic fabric. His lips connect with your skin, tongue exploring intimate parts of you in ways you’ve never experienced quite like this with anyone else. 

“These,” He cups your full breasts in his hands, kissing along each swell, “are perfect, princess,” 

You shiver at that, whining in his grip as he traces his tongue down and ghosts it close to your nipple, but you smile and manage, “I really took you for an ass man,” 

“I’m an everything man where you’re concerned,” He flicks his tongue experimentally across the hardened bud and hums softly when you jolt in his arms, “so excuse me if I have to slow down and show my appreciation,” 

This crush is going to kill you, that’s the thought that gets instantly banished from your brain the second Seungcheol wraps his lips around one nipple while his fingers pinch the other, setting a steady pace of sucking and teasing that is sure to leave pleasured little bruises. 

“Oh,” You grip his shoulders, “oh, Jesus, Cheol,” 

“Feel good, baby?” He switches sides smoothly and sucks again. 

A jolt of pleasure rocks from your chest to your untouched clit and you rock down, trying desperately to press your aching center against anything for a little friction. 

“Yeah?” He prompts you gently. 

“So, so good,” You nod, rolling again, “but I need more, please,” 

He nods against your chest, pressing one more kiss to your breastbone before he says, “y/n, I don’t want to move too fast or anything, we’ll do whatever you want, but,” 

“But what?” You’re about a second from pushing his hand into your underwear yourself.

  “Can I eat you out?” 

Your stomach flips, “Oh, fuck yes,” 

You’re on your back practically the second you give him permission. He holds you tight to his chest as he pushes himself up off the couch and flips you around, dropping you back onto the cushions and tugging at your clothes. Normally you’d be a little self conscious, especially in the brighter light of your living room and not the dim strategic lightning of your bedroom, but Seungcheol keeps looking at every inch of your body like he’s starving for it, groaning in pleasure at every inch of you that gets revealed, and you’re starting to think he really does like everything about you. 

You help push off your pants with shaky hands, but let him loop his thumbs under the thin straps of your underwear and tug those free, a slick wet patch in the middle where you’ve been soaking through the cotton for the past half hour. You help him with your top, until finally you’re completely bare and he’s pushing you to lie back onto the extended length of the chaise while he falls to his knees before you. 

“Wow,” He breathes, his hands running along your thighs, “just… wow,” 

“Stop,” You can’t stop the blush now, and you fight the urge to reach for a blanket or cross your arms over yourself at his exacting gaze. 

“Nope,” He dips his hands to your inner thighs and pushes your legs apart little by little, “I’m going to enjoy every bit of this,” 

“Now you’re just trying to embarrass me,” You smile. 

His tongue darts out to wet hips lips and he shakes his head, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” 

Your stomach churns, flipping nervously as he looks at you so earnestly. 

“I’m serious,” He kisses your knee as he opens one of your legs wider, “I’ve thought about this a thousand times, but you’re so much better than my imagination,” 

“Cheol,” You whisper tightly. 

“Mm,” He sighs as he tips your hips back, maneuvering your legs wide and open now and shifting your hips to the very edge of the couch so he can tuck smoothly between your open legs, “I wonder if you taste as sweet as I imagined too,” 

Your fingers grip down on the cushions, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“Look at you,” He sighs pleasantly, his fingers ghosting along the edge of your lower lips, “is all this for me, baby?” 

“Uh-huh,” Your breath hitches as his finger just barely touches your seam. 

“You got this wet just from grinding on my lap?” He smiles, his teeth catching his thick bottom lip. 

“Cheol,” It’s all you can manage, you really didn’t know he was like this. 

His eyes soften up though at the sound of his name on your lips, and he kisses your thigh tenderly before looking back up to you, “Doing good? Okay?” 

“Mhm,” You’re fine, you are, except you think you might come the second he touches you and you’re a little terrified at just how intense he is from minute one.  

“y/n,” He squeezes you a little. 

“I’m good,” You breathe, “I promise,” 

“Okay,” He kisses your skin again and nods, “just relax, okay?” 

“I’m relaxed,” You answer too quickly and one of his eyebrows goes high. 

“Mhm,” He eases up on his knees a little to see your face better and smooths his hand from your leg to your hip to your stomach, “what’s going on?” 

“This is just a little surreal,” You admit, “isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” He releases your legs and shifts up so he can lean over your body, catching your mouth again in a soft kiss, “it is, but do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” You kiss him back. 

“Then you should know,” He nuzzles your nose with his, “that all I want to do right now is make you come on my face until you can’t think, and after that if you still want to take this further we can, but baby, I really don’t care what we do tonight. I just want to be with you,”

Your mouth runs dry, and you can feel your core throbbing hard between your legs, your heart fluttering fast. 

“So, please, can I make you come?” He smiles, pressing another quick kiss to your lips, “I think you want me to,” 

“Yes,” The nervous knots in your stomach release, “please, Coups,” 

His nose scrunches as he laughs, kissing his way down your chest, “It’s Coups now?” 

“Cheol,” You whine, “you’re stalling,” 

“It’s called foreplay,” He licks a firm line between your breasts and moves lower, “have you not been getting fucked right, princess?” 

“F-fuck,” Your back arches as his lips travel down over your belly, eyes slipping closed, “Seungcheol,” 

He shakes his head, his hair brushing against your skin, “No more baby?” He makes a sulky noise with his tongue against the back of his teeth, “Come on princess, call me baby,” 

Your mind is spinning, and you gasp sharply as his fingers finally slide through your wet slit and land at the apex, pressing deliciously down over your throbbing clit, “Ch-Cheol, fuck, oh fuck, baby,” 

“There she is,” He groans, and as his fingers fall away and his lips take their place. He licks a deep stripe through your folds and groans, spreading your legs open wide with his hands anchored on the backs of your thighs, “You’re perfect,” 

You moan as he sucks the tender bud of your clit into his mouth. 

“I’m going to do this everyday,” He pants, licking another stripe, exploring every inch of your cunt with his tongue, “you’ll be my dessert every night,” 

“Ah,” Your head rocks back as pleasure lights up your spine, “baby,” 

“Mm,” He groans into your core, burying his face against you and alternating perfectly between sharp sucks and flicks of his tongue. 

You are moving fast, from nothing to desperate something in the span of a couple of hours, but honestly you’ve never felt safer and better and more held than this. His hands roam your body, seeking every soft place he can grab and squeeze and hold onto, and you just know the bruises on your hips will be worth it when he finally fucks you. 

“Come on,” He tips your hips back to get better access, wrapping his arms around your thick thighs, “don’t be shy,” 

“Oh, shit,” Your hand flies down to grip his hair and anchor your position as he manhandles you, your other hand gripping the cushions, “just like that,” 

He sucks harder and flicks the tip of his tongue against your bud again, quickening his pace and listening carefully for your sounds to know what you need. Looking down between your legs you can barely believe the sight, but there he is, Choi Seungcheol with his face glistening. His lips are puffy and red, his eyes hooded, and he grins when he sees you watching before nodding just a little and redoubling his efforts. 

Your legs are trembling now, the start of your orgasm building up through the base of your spine and flooding warmth into your belly, and if he wasn’t holding you so tightly you’re sure you’d snap. 

“Baby,” You whine, your voice sounding not quite your own as heat floods in your chest, “oh, God, please don’t stop,” 

He sucks hard, shifting to kiss your core and push the tender muscle of his tongue inside you, “I’ve got you,” he pants as he works his tongue faster, “I’ve got you,” 

He’s a mess, wet with slick across cheeks and sweat on his brow, and you think for a split second you might actually be in love with this man already, no one has ever, ever treated your body quite like this. As he shifts to tease your clit again, building the pleasure up and up higher, you grip down on his hair harder. 

“I’m,” You stammer out, your back arching and your mouth falling slack, “I’m gonna,”

He nods into you but doesn’t stop the pace of his tongue one bit. 

“I’m,” You gasp again, “coming, fuck, I’m coming,” 

It hits you all at once, punctuated with his sharp suck to your clit and your legs snap shut around his head, your body wrenching sideways as the wave takes you from conscious to that hazy middle space of pleasure. You can barely breathe, you can't even think, all you can do is feel pulse after pulse of pleasure. 

“Fuck,” He curses, and your brain connects enough to realize your legs are still snapped tightly shut around his ears but you can’t get your body to respond, “yeah, fuck, there you go,” 

Everything you are is trembling in his hands. 

“I could fucking die happy,” He says, shifting to nip your plush thigh with his teeth, his hands gripping down on your curves, “right here between your legs,” 

You make a sound, you think, and he chuckles against your skin. 

“Mm-mm,” He sighs pleasantly, his hands running from your thighs to your hips and down to cup your backside, “you’re fucking gorgeous, y/n, I love every fucking inch of you,” 

“Y-yeah?” Your eyes flutter open. 

“Mhm,” He flicks his tongue over your clit once more, eliciting a deep shudder from your hips before he says, “I can’t wait to fuck you,” 

Your legs start to relax, and you look down, “Then fuck me,”

“I want another first,” He shakes his head, “please, let me make you come again, sweetheart,” 

“Oh,” You shiver as he kisses your slit again, letting his tongue linger, “fuck,” 

He sighs, “This pussy,” 

“Cheol,” You blush hard. 

“I would do anything,” He smiles, flicking your clit again with his tongue, “for this perfect fucking pussy,” 

“Anything?” 

He goes still between your legs and then he nods, wetting his lips with his tongue, pressing a kiss to your quivering cunt, and looking up over your body to meet your eyes, “Anything.” 

“Will you come up here?” You reach for him, “Will you hold me?” 

He eases your legs down off his shoulders and shifts up, “Yeah, of course,” 

“Will you,” You nearly come again just at the sight of a sizeable wet spot on his sweats, and you tug at his shirt to try and silently communicate your need, “I want to touch you too,” 

“Mhm,” He stands up, shucking off his clothes as quickly as he can, and when he pushes down his boxer briefs your muscles clench. 

When you were younger, a teenager inexperienced with sex and boys, you imagined his cock. You saw the faint outline of it once through a pair of athletic shorts and you wondered what he might look like naked. You wondered if you would like his body. You wondered if he would like yours too. You can’t really remember what you imagined Seungcheol’s cock to look like, but you know this is better. It’s long, but not too long, like the guys who can’t fit it in all the way without smashing painfully into your cervix, but it’s thick. His cock is heavy, deserving of the word, and perfectly straight until the very end where it curls up towards his abdomen. 

You want him inside you so badly you could cry. 

“You okay?” He says as he slides up the couch next to you, your naked hip against his. 

“A little nervous,” You admit quietly, turning towards him on the cushions and drawing him closer with your hand on his shoulder. 

“Me too,” He says softly, maneuvering until one arm is wrapped around your back and your head is pillowed on his other, your chests flush against each other, his cock trapped between your stomachs. 

“God,” You shift closer to him, tangling your legs together, “you’re so hard,” 

He nods, sighing at the way your skin drags against his, “You’re making me insane,” 

“Good,” You smile, finding his lips with yours, tasting yourself on him and dipping your tongue into his mouth as you deepen the kiss.

He groans against you, and you snake a hand between your bodies to wrap around his aching cock. “Oh, fuck,” he curses as you pump your hand up and down his shaft, “easy, it’s been a while,” 

“Yeah?” You soften your grip a little, rolling your hand at the tip and feeling precum bead up and smear on your belly, “Saving yourself for me, baby?” 

He moans softly, his eyes rolling shut, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?” 

“Maybe,” You kiss the corner of his mouth and pump his cock a little harder. 

“L-let me touch you,” He pants, his hand pushing your hips back just enough so that he can fit a hand in between your thighs, “can I touch you?” 

It’s dizzying how much he begs to pleasure you, and you’re starting to think maybe this is part of what he needs, but you’re still new to each other’s bodies and learning and you suppose you’ll have time to figure all of this out. It’s not just a one night thing.

“Touch me,” You open your legs for him and he immediately slides his fingers down your slit to your aching entrance. 

“Don’t stop,” He urges you and you realize at the feeling of his fingers you stopped pumping your hand. 

You smile, kissing him again and finding a new pace with a stroke of your hand and a roll of your wrist, “You feel so good, baby,” 

“So do you,” He pants, and then he pushes two fingers inside your slick walls. 

You choke out a wine, pushing your hips forwards into his hand so he can go deeper. 

“God,” He holds you firm with his other hand, “you’re too tight,” 

“Too tight?” You huff, still working your hand over his cock, “never gotten that complaint before,” 

“Not a complaint, princess,” He teases, drawing his fingers out of your channel before thrusting back inside, “but I need to prep you a little, I don’t want to hurt you,” 

Your muscles clench down around his fingers. 

He laughs softly, “Oh, yeah, babygirl? You want me inside?” 

You nod, a whine trapped on your lips, “Cheol, please,” 

“Shh, shh,” He shifts, effectively sliding down the couch a little more while you slide up, and he rests his head on your shoulder and adjusts the angle of his arm so he can pump his fingers in and out of your channel at a steadier pace. He watches the way his fingers disappear inside you with rapt attention, cursing when he feels you grip down on him, “You want to come again?” 

“P-please,” You’re doing your best to keep working your hand, but at the way his fingers are curled inside you and pressing rhythmically against your sweet spot you think you’re about to see stars again. 

“Fuck, baby,” He sighs, “you’re so sexy,” 

All you can do is moan, grip down on his shoulder and let him have you. 

When he pushes in a third finger to stretch you, you gasp tightly at the sensation, the pleasure rocketing up your back and making your brain buzz. 

“Are you close?” He pumps his hand harder, finding your nearby nipple with his tongue and your body arches again. 

“Close,” You pant, your legs widening as you try to brace yourself, your hand falling away from his cock and gripping down on his thigh as the rolling wave of your orgasm starts to wash up over you. 

“Come for me,” He’s gripping you hard, like you belong to him and he wants only to please you, and his words combined with the way his hands lay on you leaves you coming apart at the seams. 

The sound of it is obscene, wet and filthy and pornagraphic and you’ve never in your life had sex with someone for the first time and had it be anything close to perfect. Your bodies want each other with such need. It's entirely outside your conscious brain, and you think if he can love your body like this then maybe he can love all the other parts of you, and you never want to let him go. 

Your orgasm hits you harder than the first, locking your body up in spasmodic elation, and he curls around you when you twist to make sure he works you through the crest of it, his hand only slowing down when the pulses of pleasure start to ease. 

When you come back to earth, you’re pressed face down onto the couch instead of up, your cheek against the cool fabric below you. Seungcheol is wrapped around your body like he’s glued to your back, and you feel his soft breath against your cheek and shoulder, his easy kisses on whatever part of you he can reach. His hand is still tucked underneath you and between your legs, cupping your cunt warmly and just holding you as you come down. 

“Cheol?” You murmur, your brain almost a little foggy at the heady feeling of two full body orgasms. 

“Hey, there you are,” He kisses you again, “feeling okay?” 

“Mm,” You nod, “so, so good,” 

He smiles, “Yeah? Did I get you?” 

You laugh against the cushions, shaking your head, “Babe, I just came so hard I blacked out,” your body stretches, pressing your core into the cup of his hand, “you definitely got me,” 

“Mm,” He rocks his hand and you sigh a little overstimulated sound, “should we stop here?” 

He doesn’t know, you realize it suddenly, he has no idea how badly you want him. He’s been so focused on your body, your pleasure, your wants, but you can see it now in the hesitation in voice that he still doesn’t know for sure if you want to be here with him or if you just wanted someone. 

He’s been touching you like it might be the only time, his only chance to have you and hold you in his arms. Didn’t he believe you when you said it wasn’t one night?

“Seungcheol,” You wriggle in his arms, “baby,” 

“What’s wrong?” He gives you the space to roll and you twist against him. 

You see his eyes when you turn, like he’s waiting for something and you curse yourself inside for not telling him like he was telling you. You smile, pushing his shoulder until he’s flat on his back, “What’s wrong is that you’re not inside me,” 

“O-oh,” He gasps as you hook a leg over his hips and straddle him, your body hovering over his prone cock. 

“Mhm,” You drop your body over him, your slick slit nestling directly over his cock, “but I’ve been so selfish,” 

He shakes his head to protest but you lay your fingers over his lips to stop him. 

“I want you, Cheol,” You drag your hips and find the head of his cock so you can dip and press it against your entrance, “so fucking much,” 

He’s breathing heavy against your hand, your eyes locked on eachother. 

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” You stay steady above him. 

He nods, just a little. 

“I’ve never wanted anybody like I want you,” You tell him, “never,” 

His lip quirks a little, a small smile as he presses a kiss to your fingers, “I’m all yours,” he whispers. 

You sink your hips back in one smooth flush motion, taking him inside you to the hilt without warning, and his head falls back as he moans. He’s stretching you out wide and full, his thick cock pushing into every spot inside you that you didn’t know could feel like this. 

“Oh my fuck,” Your body moves on it’s own, rocking your hips in a circle to take him deeper and roll your clit across his pubic bone, “Cheol, Cheol,” 

He blinks hard, finding your eyes at the sound of his voice, “Yeah?” 

You feel strangely like you might cry at the rush of endorphins, and you roll your hips again, whining out a need, “Hold me, please? Please, touch me,” 

Seungcheol softens, his hands unclench on the cushions below him and he coasts his warm hands over your thighs, your hips, up and down your sides, “I’m right here,” he murmurs. 

You relish in the feeling of it, and you direct them from their wandering comfort to a landing place on your hips, the perfect soft place for him to grip in with his fingers and keep you steady while you work him. He follows your lead, watching you above him with no hesitation, and his mouth falls slack when he watches you get your position right on your knees and lift up to draw his cock out of your warm, wet channel. 

“y/n,” He pants tightly. 

You sink back down hard and he groans, cursing and no doubt leaving a pretty bouquet of bruises where his fingers press down. 

“Your cock,” You moan as you bounce again, finding a steady rhythm, “you feel so perfect,” 

“Yeah?” He bounces you, teeth clenched as he tries not to come too early. 

“Made for me,” You grind down and jolt against the pleasure, “never felt something this good,” 

He groans, a hot pant of breath and then he stutters his hips upwards, “D-don’t, I’ll come,” 

“Good,” You sink down and back up, feeling him stretch you open again and again. 

“Come here,” He reaches up for you, tugging you down by your neck to get you close and you can feel him suddenly reposition and change the angle, take back control as he pins you to his chest and pumps his hips. 

The way his cock punches into you, curved and pressing directly into your g-spot, makes you choke out a moan and dig your nails into his chest. 

“Say you love my cock,” He pants suddenly in your ear, “if it feels so good, say it, tell me,” 

You moan sharply, “I fucking love your cock,” 

“Fuck yes,” His hand claps down on your ass and grips you tight as his hips piston upwards. 

“Ah, ah,” Your legs are trembling again, “I can’t,” 

“Yes, you can,” He pants, “I want to feel you come on my cock, babygirl, squeeze me,” 

Your eyes slam shut. 

“So fucking tight,” He breathes, “so wet,” 

“For you,” You choke out and hips stutter. 

“Oh, f-fuck,” He pushes up hard, but instead of thrusting he locks his hips there with your bodies pressed flush together and at the sound of his sudden moan, the way his hands lock tight on your body, the way warmth floods your belly, you know he’s coming. 

Your brain somersaults and you rock your hips, trying to keep catching the friction against your clit to help push you over the edge, “Ah,” you whine, “no, please,”  

He doesn’t go anywhere though, he just presses his hips up to keep giving you the pressure you need and holds your hips down with his broad hands, and you hear him hiss at the overstimulation but he groans and manages, “Come baby, you’re so close, there you go, there you go,” 

You’re saying something, but you can’t really hear it. All you can feel is the bubble about to burst inside you as you drag yourself fast and frantic against his body. You’re needy and seconds away, falling into trembles again.

  “So beautiful,” He mumbles, dragging your mouth up to his and locking you in a heady kiss. 

“Cheol!” You squeak against him, body cracking apart into shakes as you come, probably louder than you wanted to as you fall into the sweet space between his neck and shoulder. 

“I’ve got you,” His softening cock slides out as you come, but he slides a hand between your thighs and rubs fast circles on your swollen clit, “fuck, look at you, god, you’re such a mess,” 

Your brain is dizzy as he talks you through the edges of your orgasm. 

“So wet,” He bites down softly on your shoulder, “soaked for me and full of my cum, fuck,” 

As you collapse on his chest, your orgasm receding, his hand slows, but his fingers stay slipped between your folds in the messy mixture of your slick wetness and his release. You are a mess, but he seems to like it and if you’re benign honest so do you. 

“I’m so,” You breathe out, shaky and exhausted, “god, I don’t know,” 

“Mhm,” He sighs, and finally he slides his fingers out of you to rest on your hip, his other hand stroking a line up and down your back while you recover together. 

You need to get up, run to the bathroom and get the shower started, but you’re boneless and floating and he’s just the perfect temperature, so for a little while you don’t move. 

When he shifts his hips under yours to readjust your eyes pop open and you start to move, “Am I hurting you?” 

“Shh,” He wraps his arms around you and gathers you tight to his chest, “don’t you dare go anywhere,” 

“Yeah?” 

“You’re perfect,” He repeats and you smile against his skin, “next time I want you sitting on my face,” 

You laugh against him, “Next time?” 

He’s quiet, his fingers still dragging up and down your spine, “If you want,” 

You shift up in his arms, settling on his chest so that you can see his face, “So much,” 

He cups your cheek, brushing his thumb along your face, as he smiles, “I missed you, you know,” 

Tears prick at the back of your eyes and your throat goes thick, and you don’t trust your voice but you nod and press your lips to his, “I missed you too, all the time,” 

He gives you a moment, just staying calm and kind with his hands, and then he leans up to capture your lips once more, this kiss so much softer and more familiar from the frantic emotion a few minutes ago. His kisses travel from your lips to your forehead and then he smooths back the tangled mess of your hair, “We should get cleaned up,” he murmurs, “how are you feeling?” 

“Like I might not ever walk again,” You joke wryly. 

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” He leans to look you over, “I got a little carried away,” 

You shake your head, “No, I’m perfect, I promise,” 

“We didn’t talk much beforehand,” He notes, brushing his palm over the swell of your hip, dipping at your hip crease, and tracing up over again at the curve of your thigh, “I just want to be sure you’re feeling okay with everything,” 

“I’d tell you if I wasn’t,” You press, “you know I would,” 

“Good,” He sighs. 

You stretch on top of him, your knees aching from your curled position and you smile, “You want to get a shower? We can share the hot water,” 

“You’re insatiable,” He quirks an eyebrow at you. 

“Not for sex,” You slap his chest lightly as you climb off him, wincing at the sudden stretch of your knees, “I can barely move,” 

“I like a challenge,” He sighs, rolling off the chaise and stretching long and you catch yourself watching the strong flex of his back, the cut of his shoulders, the curve of his ass and his muscular thighs. 

Maybe you could rally. 

Seungcheol turns and his eyes flick over your body too, “Yeah,” he nods, “I think I can get one more out of you,” 

“My shower is shockingly small, so,” You reach for him, guiding him down the hall with you, “we’ll see,” 

“I said I like a challenge,” He shrugs, and all of a sudden you can’t stop laughing. 

Your shower is small, but in the end it doesn’t matter. Seungcheol ends up crouched on his knees anyways, with one of your legs hitched over his shoulder while he takes his sweet time with his tongue bringing you up to your softest, easiest orgasm of the night. You trade lazy kisses in the warmth after, the suds long gone and your fingers pruned by the time you fall into bed. 

You don’t have to ask him to stay, he just does. You talk for as long as you can keep your eyes open, stories of years ago when you saw him almost every single day. You whisper late into the night, until finally he falls asleep first, his head lolled to the side, but his hand still wrapped tightly around yours. 

You tumble into sleep right alongside him, his skin smelling of sweet peach and nectarine. 

In the morning, you wake up to something cold suddenly pressed to your cheek and you start to stitch together the world around you in quick threads. 

“Kkuma,” Seungcheol’s voice reaches you first, a hushed whisper as he tries to get his dog’s attention, “come here girl, let her sleep,” 

You groan a little, and you realize the something cold was Kkuma’s very wet nose against your cheek. Instead of listening to Seungcheol, she presses her nose to you again and follows it up with a lick, her panting excitement pushing you from laying on your side to your back as she collapses over your chest. 

“Kkuma!” He exclaims quietly, “down girl!”

Your eyes start to pop open, and this time you see his dog’s fluffy white face inches from your own, delighted that you’re awake. 

“Kkuma,” He tries to drop his voice to a lower tone to get her attention. 

“It’s okay,” You yawn, reaching up to scratch Kkuma behind the ears, “I’m awake now,” 

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol moves into your bedroom, and you can see he’s fully dressed and has been for some time, “I didn’t think she would just jump on you like that,” 

Your brain is still a little sluggish and you rub your hand over your face, “Did you go home?”

He grins and nods at your sleepy question, the answer obvious from the dog on your chest, “Yeah, I needed to run home and take her for a walk, I hope you don’t mind I let myself back in,” 

“Not at all,” You smile up at him, “I’m just sad you’re not in the cuddle pile,” 

“We can fix that,” He tosses his beanie on your nightstand and then holds up a little carrier containing two coffees and a few little pastry bags, “and I bring gifts,” 

“From that place by your apartment?” You brighten, recognizing the stamped logos on the cups. 

“Mhm,” He passes over your cup, “sugar, no cream,” 

“You remembered,” You push yourself up in bed, Kkuma adjusting herself to snuggle into your side, and accept the cup, “thank you,” 

He lays his heavy denim jacket on the chair by your dresser and slips back into bed with you, dragging the covers back over both your legs, “Of course, I did, not that much could have changed in a year, right?” 

“Mm-mm,” Your legs slide together as you tuck under his arm and settle back into his chest. 

His fingers play with the ends of your hair while he sips his coffee, and then he sighs, “y/n,” 

Your stomach freezes and you wonder if you’re about to get let down easy. If waking up in the morning cleared his head, if a text from Mingyu changed his mind, if on the trip back to his place he worked out the right way to break your heart, if he practiced it out loud in his car with the dog. 

“What’s up?” You say, hoping you sound far more casual than you feel. 

“About Gyu,” He exhales heavy, his coffee leaning against his thigh as he gathers his words, “listen,” 

“Don’t,” You murmur, pressing your eyes closed, “please don’t go,”

“Go?” He asks. 

“I’ll tell him, and I know he’ll be fine after the shock wears off,” You twist in the bed to look up at him, “please just stay, last night was… Cheol, please just think about this,” 

His brows knit together tight in confusion and he sets his coffee on your bedside table to free up his hand and brush it along your cheek, “I was going to say, about Gyu, I’m meeting him for lunch at two. I’d like to tell him about us today,” 

“You what,” You blink. 

“I’d like to tell him that I picked you up after your date,” He says, “and that we got to talking, and that we kissed,” 

You can almost see Mingyu’s wide puppy eyes as he realizes where the story is going to go. 

“And that I asked you out on a date,” Seungcheol finishes, “and he’s going to ask me a lot of other questions which I definitely am not going to answer, except one thing,” 

You swallow nervously, your coffee almost tipping to the side forgotten in your hands until he plucks it up and sets it to the side. 

“He’s going to ask me if I’m serious about you,” He says calmly, like you’ve discussed this before, “and I’m going to say yes, but that’s the kind of thing you should know before your brother does.”

“You’re serious about me,” You say it back, your heart picking up as the words come off your tongue. 

“Yes,” He nods, unequivocal, “and I hope you feel the same way because before I drive across town and tell my best friend I’m in love with his sister, I just need to know if you feel even a tenth of that,” 

Your heart should be pounding, your stomach fluttering, your body flooding with emotion at the casual confession, but all you feel is calm. Mingyu told you once that life would fall into place, you just never thought you’d have that realization while it was happening around you. 

You try to keep a straight face when you say, “There’s only one problem,” 

“Okay,” He says, but you watch his hand fidget in his lap. 

“You never actually asked me out on a date,” You point out with a smile, “and I don’t want to lie to Mingyu about anything,” 

He grins, his tongue dragging against one side of his teeth as he shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re right,” he says, “that’s my mistake, will you go out with me?” 

“I’d love to,” You lean into him so you can press a quick kiss to his lips and take his hand in yours, lacing his anxiously twitching fingers with yours to hold him steady, “and if Gyu gives you any lip about this,” you kiss him again, “tell him I’m in love with his best friend,” 

“You are?” His fingers tighten on your hand. 

“Mhm,” You suddenly can’t keep your lips away from his, “and you tell him that if he does anything to ruin this, that I’ll make him sorry,” 

“Now that,” He laughs, “that I believe,” 

You pull him down to you and your body without another word, and with a hushed apology he pushes Kkuma off the bed so he can splay you out in the middle of the mattress. He takes you fast, hurried and full of need now that you have so much time ahead of you for slow. For now, you have a lot of catching up to do.

When you finally make it out of bed the coffee is cold and Seungcheol is late for lunch. 

[monamipencil]

— (sulky) lover of mine | c.sc

genre; fluff, established relationship, gn! reader | tw; sulky cheol, mentions of sex (nothing explicit), uh .. mentions of pp? | a/n; i was struggling to name this lmao. anyways, happy birthday to @vitaminkyeom, resident seungcheol simp (add gyu and dk to it), physics hater and the tweedledee to my tweedledumb <33 i hope you like this and have a great year ahead !! just a lil present from me 🫶

“seungcheol, you really can't be upset about this.”

you bite your tongue as soon as those words leave your mouth. why? because seungcheol will show you that he can be upset about this.

what's this you ask? you left to use the restroom, without him.

normally, it'd seem childish and petty. but, you'd been away for a good three months for work. almost hundred days went by without him by your side. understandably, he had been very clingy ever since you returned back.

you hold back a chuckle and hug his sulking figure, resting your head on his broad back. when that doesn't work, you move to sit in front of him, cradling his face in your hands. a small smile cracks on his face but he still puts up his upset demeanor, turning his face away from you.

carefully watching his reactions, you lean closer. he senses you getting closer, and closes his eyes, expecting a kiss from you. when his anticipated kiss doesn't arrive, his neck snaps to look at you.

you giggle, reaching for a bottle behind him and settle back. he looks at you, offended and hurt (he's a little dramatic). a deep pout settles on his face and you see gears turning in his head.

before he could overthink and come to conclusions on his face, you crawl onto his lap, peppering kisses all over his face. “you don't love me anymore,” he mutters through his pout.

“i do love you,” you assure him, kissing his forehead before moving to his temple.

“not as much as you used to,”

“you're right.” a furrow nestles between his eyebrows, big brown eyes staring at you with actual hurt.

“i just love you more.” you kiss his lips, savoring the feeling of his plump lips against yours. seungcheol relaxes, melting into the kiss. he holds the back of your head and your waist, tilting his head to kiss you deeply.

your lips slot together perfectly, and your breaths mingle together. you pull back enough to keep your lips brushing. you watch as his eyes flutter open. a comfortable silence washes over you both, and minutes pass by just staring at each other's eyes.

“i missed you,” he whispers, lips brushing yours.

“hmm, i missed you too.”

“i'm still mad that you left to use the restroom without me.”

“it's ok. when you use it, i'll accompany you. i can hold you—hmphh.” he shushes you with a kiss that melts into him smiling against your lips. pink dusts his cheek as he thinks about what you just said.

“no thanks.” he says, blush taking over his cheeks.

“what? i was about to say that i'll hold your hand,” he doesn't stop laughing, giggles erupting from his stomach.

“what did you think, pervert?” seungcheol shakes his head, keeping it down as he continues to giggle. you watch in amusement as he hides his face and blushes.

“seungcheol?”

“yes?” accompanied by a giggle.

“you do realise we've had sex before right?”

he starts giggling even more profusely, blushing and curling up into a ball. you stare at him, confused while he shifts closer to you. he rests his head on your shoulder, an ever present smile on his face.

“i didn't know you liked me like that.” accompanied by yet another giggle. you shake your head, a smile trickling onto your face.

you poke his dimple, “i think i broke you.”

the room fills with the giggles of your boyfriend.

[moonstruckme]

love of my life, queen of all things smut and marauders..........I have a request if you don't mind 😈 I was thinking of this with Sirius, but it could truly be whoever you think fits. But what do you think of a fic where reader x Sirius have sex for the first time (FWB, relationship, whatever fits the vibe), and Sirius finishes and moves his attention to reader who goes "oh it's alright, I've never been successful at that part of sex before...." & then it becomes this fun challenge for Sirius who spends the rest of the evening finding out what works for her until he finally gets her off 😃 xoxoxoxooxoxoxo

Thanks for the request and for weathering the long wait gorgeous Elle <3

cw: smut mdni, reader is afab and has trouble with orgasming

fwb!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Fuck.” Sirius’ forehead crashes into yours, his breath hot on your lips. “Are you close?” 

“You should come.” Your voice is tight, strained, though not nearly so much as his. 

“Not before you.” 

“Please, Sirius.” You both moan as he thrusts deeper inside you, your legs squeezing tight around his middle. “Please, I want you to.” 

“I don’t—shit.” 

His brow tenses along with the rest of him as he spills into you. You feel the condom fill up with a heady satisfaction. You run your hands up his back soothingly, until he relaxes into you. 

“Fuck, gorgeous.” Sirius tilts his face to kiss at the slope of your cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I would…you just feel too good, have you gotten that complaint before?”

You laugh. “It’s not usually a complaint.” 

“No, but in this case…” He tuts, picking his head up to look at you. You expect to be self-conscious—it’s your first time seeing each other like this, and part of you is still fighting the urge to cover up and preserve your modesty—but the heavy drag of his gaze only makes you feel admired. “Well, anyways, sorry. How close are you?” 

“Oh, it’s okay.” You smile at him. Your finger traces the line of a tattoo on his bicep. “Don’t worry about it. I had fun.” 

Sirius blinks, and then his brows come down. “Hold on, that’s not fair. I want to get you off.” 

“Sirius, it’s really fine. I’m not…” You hesitate. You and Sirius have been friends for a while; it’s not as though you haven’t shared secrets before. And given what you’ve just shared with each other, you shouldn’t probably be embarrassed, but… “I haven’t exactly been…successful at that part of sex before.” 

Sirius’ eyebrows furrow as though he doesn’t quite understand what you mean. 

“I haven’t come,” you clarify. 

His eyes widen, lips parting. It’s horrendously attractive, worse with him still inside you. “You haven’t?” 

You shake your head. 

“Not ever?” 

You shake your head again. 

“Not even by yourself?” 

“Let’s just assume the answer to all of these questions is going to be no.” He shifts in you slightly, and you squirm. “Can you…?” 

“Oh. Yeah, sorry.” Sirius pulls out of you, looking somewhat awed. “So, forgive me, but what exactly are you getting out of this if you don’t expect to come?” 

You give him a droll look. “I guess I’m just a giver.” 

It’s more true than you let on. You enjoyed yourself more than you expected just now, watching Sirius come, knowing it was the sight of you and the feel of your flesh under his hands that did it. You hope he lets you do it again.

“I don’t have to come to have good sex,” you say in a more genuine tone. “It’s still fun for me.” 

“Right. Right, yeah, but—” 

“Listen, I’m only telling you so you don’t take it personally. It’s not a you thing, it���s just…” You gesture helplessly. “I’m not sure I can.” 

Sirius looks indignant. “I’m sure you can.” 

“I haven’t found any proof.” 

“Well, it’s—there’s a first time for everybody, doll. Can I try?” 

You sit up, drawing your legs closer and forcing him to sit back. “I told you, it’s not you.” 

“It could be me, though.” He grins roguishly. 

You roll your eyes, fighting a smile. “Don’t make this a pride thing.” 

“I’m not. I’m not, babe.” Sirius scoots towards you. He looks at you, sincere. “But it could be any number of factors, you know? Maybe you just haven’t tried the right thing, or there’s a lubrication issue, or something. It would be fun to try.” 

You rub your lips together. “It’d probably be a waste of time. And I don’t want you to be disappointed if it doesn’t work.” 

“I won’t be,” he promises. He crawls toward you on the bed, taking your ankle in hand to tug you closer. Your heart riots at the sight. “Let’s waste some time, gorgeous. I’ve got nothing else to do tonight. And you said you have fun even if you don’t finish, right?” 

“Right,” you admit. 

Sirius grins, flashing canines. “Lay back, then. Let me play with you a while.” 

It doesn’t take long to figure out that lubrication is not the issue. Between Sirius’ hands and his mouth, you’re spilled like warm honey across his sheets in minutes. He bites marks into your thighs, goes from gentle to masochistic to gentle again with his hands on your breasts, curls his fingers inside you so that you make sounds you don’t recognize. All the while, he calls you sweet names rolled up in taunts, making your cheeks burn and your body seem to give up any will of its own. It begins to feel cruel; the combination of who Sirius is and what he can do to you.

But it’s when he uses his tongue that you start to tremble. 

Your hand clamps blindly down on his shoulder, caught between keeping him close and pushing him away. Sirius’ hum, heavy with smugness and intrigue, is a vibration like you’ve never felt before. He takes your clit into his mouth. 

It’s altogether too much and not enough. You shift your hips, gasping, but after a while your breaths even into a steadier pant. You start to adjust to this new pleasure. Just when you think you’ve got it under control, you’re safe, Sirius slips his wicked fingers into your entrance again. 

“There you are.” His voice thrums with satisfaction as he kisses your clit. “You’ve been so good, sweetheart. So patient.” 

“Sirius, I—”

“What?” 

“I feel—” 

“What, pretty girl?” 

“Sirius.” 

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m being mean.” He nibbles ever so gently at your clit, making you jolt away from him. Your walls clench around his fingers. “You’re just so much fun when you’re worked up like this, I can’t help myself.” 

He curls his fingers into that torturous spot along your inner wall, and what you want isn’t more sensation, but you can no longer find the words to tell him so. You dig your nails into Sirius’ shoulders and squeeze your eyes shut, feeling on the precipice of something great and terrible. Some kind of wreckage. 

“You’re okay, doll,” Sirius soothes. “You’re just fine. You like this, don’t you? Don’t you want to come?” 

With his low, sweet question, you do. You wreck like a ship against the shoreline. Splintering, screaming, crashing and drowning. Sirius laughs like the enemy vessel as you do.

It’s some time later when the stars clear from behind your eyes. You let out a shuddering breath. “Fuck.” 

“Mhm. That’s usually how it goes.” Sirius is all tenderness now. He kisses up your sweaty, overworked abdomen until he reaches your collarbone, where he nibbles rewardingly. “Good job, sweetness. And good job me, if I do say so myself.” 

You open your eyes to peek at him through your lashes. “Aren’t I supposed to say so?” 

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your chin. “Fairly sure you just did. I wouldn’t have guessed you had sounds like that in you.” 

“Me neither,” you admit. 

“Well, now I’ve got something new to work towards, I suppose.” 

“Sirius,” you sigh. “That was the first time I’ve ever come, and it took nearly an hour. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do that again.” 

“Oh, such a defeatist.” Sirius cups your face in his hands, thumbs moving sweetly down your cheeks as he presses a firm kiss to your lips. “I meant getting those sounds out of you again. But don’t worry, gorgeous, we’ll manage both.”

[teaboot]

Sometimes at work it's not my place to tell people the things I want to say, and I find I often go home at the end of the rougher days to stand blankly in my shower and tell myself over and over what I wish I could pass on.

This accomplishes very little, and mostly just gives me a tension headache, but through it all I think I've narrowed myself down to a few solid things I'd like to tell people the most.

You can't change people. Not permanently, not for anythig. You can support them, encourage them, love them, give them tools and opportunities and resources, but you can't make them change. They can change themselves if they want to, but they have to want to, and they have to want it for themselves, because they're the only one that's certain to be with them forever.

For better or worse, you make your own choices, and blaming bad choices on others doesn't only work to absolve you of responsibility- it also robs you of control. Because if you say you only did something because I did something, then you arent only shifting blame- you're admitting that you cannot control yourself, that you cannot truly make choices for yourself, that other people can control you- and as long as you truly beleive that, you'll keep facing the same problems over and over. You'll keep letting others dictate your choices, because you'll beleive that they can, and you'll never be free.

White knights on horseback are from fairytales. Nobody can help you if ou're not willing to help yourself. To try, to put the dirty work in, to belive you're worth that effort- Act as though nobody is coming to save you. From a struggle, from pain, from bad relationships, from yourself. And when you do save yourself, because you will, because failure here isn't an option if you want to survive, you'll never find another dragon that can keep you prisoner.

Don't say anything to anyone that you wouldn't want them remembering forever.

Doing the right thing in bad circumstances is hard. It's the hardest thing. But if you make the choice to do that hard thing anyways, despite your fear, you'll go on the rest of your like knowing that you're the sort of person who did something.

The present only seems the hardest because the past I over and the future hasn't happened.

There's so much joy ahead of you, the kind you can't possibly understand until you see it yourself.

The responsibility of consequences is often disguised as the power of permission. "I won't do this if you help me", "I'll work on my anger if you do this for me", "I promised you I'd quit, but can I have just one?". The unspoken question is, "Can it be your fault if this goes badly?"

You cant make someone love you the way you need to be loved. Someone can love you very much and still be bad for you, even if you love them very much in return. Two people can love each other very, very much, and try their very best, and still be wrong for each other.

Sometimes being near to someone changes you, even in good ways, and the people you become don't fit together as well as the people you were.

Caring takes work. Even if it's real. Especially if it's real. And the most important gestures aren't the grand, poetic, songs-and-flowers-and-tears moments; they're getting out of bed even though you don't want to. Paying attention to things you don't enjoy. Scrubbing pans, or opening a window, saying "thank-you", or helping carry groceries into the house. The small things fill the big things- without the small, boring, mediocre things, big things feel hollow.

Thrre is honour and dignity in humble work.

If you are a cruel and spiteful person, then you will find every place you visit to be full of the same cruel, spiteful people. This is not because the world is as cruel as you, but because everywhere you are, you will be disliked. This is the curse that comes with being persistently cruel and spiteful.

If you are a kind and ppsitive person, you will repeatedly encounter kind and positive people, because as they grow familiar with you, they will be happier to have you near. This is the reward of being a kind and positive person.

When splitting paths with loved ones, briefly or forever, aim for your last words to always be "I love you".

[yamujiburo]

Why I Love Hanamusa

I get this question very frequently but have never given a really in depth, definitive answer. All just kinda implied through my comics and spread out asks. So here's this I guess! Long post ahead:

First, as a Pokémon fan in her mid 20s, I love seeing a ship where the characters are both in their mid/late 20s. Already, they’re much more relatable to me and my current experiences. Most Pokémon ships are between preteens, which can be cute but ultimately don’t interest me as much as they used to when I was a kid myself. Not enough to get super invested in and draw a lot of fanart for anyways haha.

I’ll also start by saying that canon doesn’t always influence whether or not I’ll ship something. I’m much more drawn to potential. Could the characters work together? Do their personalities work together in a nice way? I feel like this so much of fanon is anyways. Especially with queer relationships because they’re rarely depicted in the first place. A lot of the context for these ships is usually up to the fans to piece together or make up in general. And that’s the fun part to me!

Jessie and Delia have only met in the anime a handful of times. Any interaction they’ve had has either been pleasant, or just a typical Team Rocket interaction, with Delia dismissing them/not seeing them as a threat. Already a great jumping off point for me since, truly, they don’t have any actual beef or true, ill feelings towards each other. It’s not TOO out of the realm of possibility for them to potentially fall for each other. “But Jessie chased Delia’s son around trying to steal his Pokémon!” That’s where that dismissive and aloof attitude that Delia has comes into play. I’ll go more into Delia’s whole deal a bit later but I do think this aspect of her personality is a large reason why this ship can work. It’s not that she doesn’t care that Jessie has a bad past, but she can tell that, on the inside, Jessie’s a good person. And, in a scenario where Jessie is trying to become a better person, is forgiving enough to give her a shot. I feel like this is such a solid foundation for a ship. A character who has done wrong but is trying to be better and another character who is willing to help them be better. A classic dynamic!

It’s not just one-sided though; where Jessie is the only one benefitting and learning from the relationship. I believe Delia could get a lot out of being with someone like Jessie. To understand why, I think it’s important to know these characters’ respective backstories.

Jessie is an orphan/foster child who grew up in poverty. Her mother Miyamoto (from The Birth of Mewtwo) was a Team Rocket operative herself, who went on a mission to find Mew. In order to do this, she had to leave Jessie when she was just a toddler. Unfortunately, Miyamoto went MIA on her mission leaving Jessie to more or less fend for herself. Jessie went through life with zero stability, evident by her MANY different careers and constant moving around. It’s implied in the show that she went from foster home to foster home, and later in life tried being an idol, weather girl, florist, wine connoisseur, actress, most notably a nurse and finally a Team Rocket field agent. And even while in Team Rocket, she, James and Meowth were always doing odd jobs to get by. We see that Jessie used to be a sweet kid, and even adult, but the world and her circumstances repeatedly did her dirty, leading her to become the character we know today. Hot tempered, mean, selfish, etc. But despite this, her soft side does still shine through for the people and Pokémon she cares about. She is incredibly loyal.

Delia, unbeknownst to a lot of fans, also had a rough past (see Pocket Monsters: The Animation). Like Jessie, she had a lot of dreams and aspirations like wanting to be a model and even a trainer. But when she was 10, her mother didn’t let her, telling her that she had to stay home and learn to run the family restaurant (she’s an only child). Delia’s father left her and her mother to be a trainer, and never returned. When she was 18, she married Ash’s father and became pregnant shortly after. But right after Ash was born, he also set off to be a Pokémon trainer. And soon after that, her mother passed away, leaving Delia with just the restaurant and baby Ash. This gives so much context to Delia’s attitude in the show. We see that Delia is pained whenever Ash leaves on a journey, but she never shows that pain to anyone. ESPECIALLY Ash. She’s very quick to shoo him off when he shows any sign of wanting to go on another journey and even when he returns home, she acts more excited to see Pikachu than him almost every time. Without all this backstory, it’s easy to just read this as a funny gag, BUT with context, I think it really shows how quickly Delia shuts down and detaches in order to not confront her own feelings. She’s afraid of losing people and getting hurt again.

All that said, I think Jessie and Delia provide each other with EXACTLY what the other needs. 

Aside from becoming rich and famous, Jessie’s biggest aspiration is to get married. In my opinion, this is more so an underlying want for love and stability. There is no one more stable in the show than Delia. Delia’s lived in Pallet her whole life, she’s worked at the same restaurant since she was young and she is always there when Ash comes back home. She has all the love, patience and stability Jessie needs and craves. While forgiving, Delia’s not stupid and can keep Jessie in check. Delia’s also just an angel, which I feel, would make Jessie want to be better. And on top of all this, on more of a surface level, Delia’s a chef and excellent cook. She shows love through cooking and Jessie, who grew up poor, regularly starving and eating snow, happily receives that love. Jessie’s able to live a happy and healthy life with someone like Delia.

Delia, as stated, is very stable. Likely pretty monotonous and solitary, especially living in such a small town like Pallet. This isn’t a bad thing but it’s a little sad when you consider that Delia also had dreams of traveling, being a model and a trainer. She had to give up so many dreams in order to fulfill her duties as a restaurant owner and mother. And even now, when Ash is off on his journey, she feels the need to always be home and be that stable pillar, leaving behind any ambitions she had, thinking it’s too late for her (she’s only 29 btw). But then along comes Jessie, dangerous, passionate, an absolute firecracker. Someone who’s whole life has been about chasing dreams and either, never giving up on them or finding a new dream to chase. Upon learning about Delia’s past aspirations, I could see Jessie pushing her towards them, letting her know that life’s too short and she has nothing to lose from trying. On top of this, Jessie’s also loyal. She, James and Meowth are depicted as doing anything for anyone who gives them food or shows them kindness. Delia does both so there’s no way Jessie would leave her. This fulfills an essential need for Delia, who is afraid of the people in her life leaving her.

There’s so much potential for mutual growth and learning between these two and I adore that. They compliment each other, they help each other and they bring out the best qualities in one another.

I’m not really sure how to end this and I could truly talk about them even more but I don’t want this to be tooooo long haha. OH I could end it with maybe the most funny aspect of this ship that I've brushed over and also what drew me to it in the first place. Jessie. As Ash’s stepmom. THE END.

[sailoryuns]

INAMORATA ─── PSH

genre. idol!sunghoon x model!f!reader | established relationship

warnings. angst, fluff (moreso towards the end), smut, accusations of cheating, hoon being lowkey toxic, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, some mentions of crying, not proofread wc -> 1.5k

ps. the position i’m referring to is this (nsfw link), i usually hate vids but this was rly good imo.

“i think we should take a break...” you admit, voice growing shakier as you spoke. this was never something you wish to say in a million years, you wanted this relationship to work more than anything. but you were at your wits end with everything, talking to sunghoon was like conversing with the wall, never fully grasping any of your concerns.

you noticed the cracks beginning to seep in the midst of six months of being with him. he would often be dishonest of his whereabouts, saying he was out late due to “work” but was actually out drinking at some bar with jake or something. it made no sense for him to lie about such trivial things but he does it without even thinking. this was supposed to be a lovely vacation in paris together but lately you’ve grown tired of feeling like you’re unappreciated. a break from each other might be the best solution in getting his act together once and for all.

sunghoon felt his whole body turn limp as you uttered those words. not only was he blindsided by your decision, but you never indicated before to him that you were ready to propose such a drastic idea. “but why though? don’t you think this is a bit random? i mean this came out of nowhere y/n, i thought everything was good between us, why are you suddenly saying this now?” his thick, bushy brows furrowed in confusion, he wasn’t letting you off this easy and you know it.

“i just think it’s for the better right now hoon, we’re both so busy. we have a lot on our plate, especially you… and this relationship is just— it’s only putting more strain on everythi-”

“are you serious y/n? do you hear yourself? i knew what i was getting myself into the day i asked you to be my girlfriend. i’m well aware that i can’t be with you 24/7, and neither can you—however, i don’t expect that anyway. all i ever wanted was to have you by my side, i want to work through the hardships with you but if you’re so willing to give up like this then… i don’t know. i don’t even know what to say to this honestly..” sunghoon couldn’t help but cut you off, once his emotions take over, all sense of logic and reasoning is thrown out the window.

he was never one to question his worth in the eyes of his partner, but you were his longest relationship, he saw you as his first and only true love. it never occurred to him that he could lose you, the possibility of this break lasting long enough to make your love fade away was a scary revelation. there had to be a way he could fix this, he couldn’t bear to be without you.

“are you seeing someone else? maybe that’s why you’ve been so distant towards me lately…” he wanted to scream for saying that out loud but at least he got it off his chest. he knows how petty it sounds but he didn’t care, he wanted you to give him answers.

“no! i’m not seeing other people, i don’t have an interest in anyone but you sunghoon. i want to do this for the sake of us, we’re clearly not where we need to be and this break could help with getting us back on track and spending time apart could be beneficial.” you try your best to articulate your words properly but he remained unconvinced, he wasn’t on board with any bit of this.

how could you even be okay with something like this? spending time away from you drove him absolutely insane, he couldn’t fathom taking a break—not from someone as important as you in his life. he just needed to remind you that the love was still there, though it may be but a dull flame, he could ignite the spark again, with the little bit of hope he had left.

the foundation of your relationship was built from shared interests, since you both are part of professions that rely heavily on looks, you refused to see each other based solely off those superficial aspects. instead you got to know each other’s minds, your core values and beliefs, what mattered to you the most. you cherished every one of those deep conversations you shared together, it was a beautiful experience, an indescribable memory that shaped your bond forever.

so why is it now that you feel this way? was he really that oblivious to everything? he should’ve done more to prevent this but now he fears it’s too late. he’s faced with the conundrum of losing you and there wasn’t much time for him to stall or ask for a chance of redemption, he couldn’t waste another second.

“fuck that,” sunghoon angrily spat, his face contorting into a look of pure disgust. “you’re not going anywhere.” he reaches out to grab your waist before you could walk away, aggressively pulling you into his chest.

no matter how much you attempt to escape his hold, he’s not letting you go in the slightest. he’s much stronger than you, could easily lift you up without breaking a sweat. there was no use in fighting, you had no choice but to give in and let this conversation go. once his lips crashed into yours, everything faded to black. as if a simple kiss was the cure-all of mending this decrepit relationship.

sunghoon’s forehead pressed against yours as he pulled away, “shhh, lye down baby,” he hushes your quiet mewls, instructing you to do as he says. “gonna make you feel so good,” his hands slid under your skirt, gently rubbing over your clothed core “you’ll forget everything.”

* :.･ﾟﾟ･ ✿

“oh my- fuckk, sunghoon!” you cry out, almost on the verge of tears just from how skilled he is, rutting your hips upwards into his mouth as he devours you whole.

the pace of his tongue is relentless, roughly lapping up all your juices like he’s the most starved man alive. you’ve lost count at the amount of times he’s already made you come undone just from his mouth alone. your body’s buzzing with titillation, all you can do is scream and clench your pussy around nothing while he fiercely sucks on your clit.

you couldn’t stop twitching, feeling yet another orgasm approaching. your legs anchored over his shoulders, unable to think or speak coherent sentences as his face was fully buried into your sloppy cunt. he relaxes his jaw a bit more, going all the way from the bottom inching further up as he comes back in contact with your puffy clit. at any given moment it feels as if your heart’s about to stop.

“hoon-” your heads thrown back into the pillow, digging your nails into his shoulder blades from how overly sensitive you are. “n-need to cum.. can feel it. m’so close.” it surprises you when you’re able to even express such words.

a low grunt can be heard underneath, sunghoon loves hearing you— it’s arguably the best part about going down on you. the hand that wasn’t occupied went straight to gripping a fistful of his ebony hair, continuously moaning his name so loud that you genuinely feel bad for whomever the unlucky people that got to hear this.

just when you thought it couldn’t get anymore intense, he slips 2 of his slender fingers inside, making you gasp from the overwhelming sensation. flashes of white invade your vision, violently shaking as your lips form an “o” in the throes of ecstasy. sunghoon knows your body so well that this is nothing for him, he’s got it all down to a simple science. no one knows your body like he does, and especially no one can make you cum as hard as he can.

“go ahead, make a mess for me baby,” he strongly encourages, picking up his pace as his digits fuck into you faster. “just gonna clean it up with my tongue all over again.”

your eyes roll back to the depths of oblivion, feeling an out of body experience when reaching your climax. a string of curses leaves your shaky breath, limbs trembling and faint tears stain your flushed cheeks. sunghoon slows his movements, rubbing his thumb over your clit gently to make you even more sensitive. you love the way he calls you “good girl” and how proud the look on his face becomes while you ride out your orgasm on his fingers. he doesn’t stop showering you with compliments, only ramping up his affection as he plants fleeting kisses to your thighs, hips, and stomach.

once he’s finally come back up for air you grab his face to pull him into your lips again. moaning in his mouth while getting a taste of yourself was probably the hottest thing sunghoon’s ever witnessed.

“can’t believe this is all mine.” sunghoon whispers against you, gently massaging your aching thighs. “i love you so much, baby.”

“love you too hoon.” you instantly say back, feeling more at ease now that things are somewhat back to normal.

maybe a break isn’t necessary after all, how else would you be able to have such earth shattering orgasms?

- 完 ♡︎

[sublimati0ns]

daily koss #29: if we only have one shot… better make it count, right?

Since I started on the 18th of February, today marks the one month anniversary of me drawing these wretched old men every day!!! I wanted to make something special for it, so I tried my hand at a comic (even though I am NOT good at comics—dear god, paneling is so unintuitive for me that I ended up wrangling this into a webtoon format just to avoid it).

Despite the increasing level of render and polish on my dailies over the past two weeks, this is the first time I’ve really, actually tried to flex my art muscles and apply my braincells to a piece 😂 Here’s to hoping my work paid off! I have now, officially, moved from low-effort shitposts to real-effort seriousposts 😔

(Also, if you’ve never read a webtoon before, hopefully the long-scroll format wasn’t too jarring! >_<)

A meta aspect I love about KOSS is that Transformers is a multi-timeline franchise: Knock Out and Starscream exist across multiple different continuities, sometimes alongside each other, sometimes not. But they only really ‘work’ in TFP, despite them both having other characters as constants (Breakdown, Megatron). If this were any other world, and they were any other versions of themselves, they might not even have been coworkers—just ships passing in the night.

And yet, the perfect storm of random events led to them being in one thing together, with a compelling dynamic at that (even an entire episode that puts it on blast!!!). Sometimes I think about how, according to the TFP artbook, Knock Out was originally conceived as something of a counterpart to Bumblebee—another fast, pretty car, except a villain this time—but the writers ended up fleshing out his relationship with Starscream the most. I wonder what the thought process behind that was—did the devs find their dynamic fun to play with as well?—and whether the two would get more moments together if Prime wasn’t cancelled…

But I digress! The fact I discovered TFP in the first place is the cherry on top of the serendipity-cake; I never imagined I’d ever get into Transformers, but one impulsive ‘hey, what if we watched the new Transformers movie’ from Lacuna at 3AM in the dead of January changed the trajectory of my life.

I’ve always been really bad at committing to projects for over a month at a time—I often find myself burnt out and restless after only a few days, even. So to still have so much drive and inspiration to create fanworks—for KOSS, of course, but an assortment of other pairings and properties too—is such a novel and exciting experience. My tune may change at a moment’s notice (I can be very fickle), but for now I’m eager to keep scribbling on 🥰I already have something planned for the next week of Daily KOSS hehehe~

Anyway, things referenced in the comic!

G1 cartoon s01e13 “Fire in the Sky”

2019 IDW continuity Tread & Circuits issues 2, 3, and 4

Armada episode 48

TFA s02e03 “Mission Accomplished” and s03e13 “Endgame II”

2005 IDW continuity “Choose Me,” Spotlight: Megatron, and Annual 2017 “Chosen One”

And it’s probably obvious from the art, but I love the juxtaposition of Starscream being tortured by god in every other universe while Knock Out is either happily married or doesn’t exist.

[lovebugism]

how abt eddie x shy reader , she meet’s wayne accidentally & she brings like sm food for the week he LOVES HER but shes so shy

a request deep from the archives that i haven't stopped thinking about since i got it hahah please enjoy xoxo — you spend a fluffy morning in with the munsons (established relationship, fluff, 1.2k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Eddie rouses from his sleep like a king on a sunken-in couch. 

Saturday morning cartoons play on the TV just ahead of him, mostly on mute ‘cause you’ve got the radio going in the kitchen. Something soft and soulful and too low for him to hear. The trailer swells with the scent of something sweet, of syrup and cooked sugar. 

Speaking of sweet…

His flushed cheek rubs against the arm of the couch when he looks up to find you. He can see you just over the top of the counter, like a scene from a movie. You’ve got a bowl of something wedged in your elbow, and you stir at it with your free hand — half-distracted because your nose is stuck in an open recipe book on the counter. Your glasses fall slowly down your nose. You try to push them up again with your shoulder, but they slip back down a second later.

Your gentle humming fills his ears, and Eddie figures this is what heaven must be like. There’s no greater nirvana than this.

He rises and stretches and walks the very short distance to the kitchen. Still warm with sleep, he wraps himself around you, chest flush to the expanse of your back. “Whatcha doin’?” he lilts, muffled into your sweater.

“Cookin’,” you answer in the same tone, only softer and a little more sheepish.

Eddie breathes hard once. You think you feel him smiling. “Dumb question, huh?”

“Did you sleep good?” 

“Too good to be passed out on the couch for an hour.” He lifts his head to prop his chin on your shoulder. It bobs against you with every word. “You were supposed to be sleeping with me, by the way.”

“I tried. But then I wanted to make you breakfast.”

“Correction. You wanted to make Wayne breakfast.”

Your giggling is as soft and sweet as the cinnamon concoction you’re stirring at. “Well, I don’t want either of you to starve, actually. So sorry for making sure the Munson’s are taken care of.”

Eddie’s chest swells. His heart starts to warm so much he’s scared it might burst. He tucks his face back into your neck and holds you tighter. “Don’t apologize, sweet thing. ‘M just being stupid.”

“That nickname’s not gonna stick, Eds,” you tease, tilting your head until your cheek meets his wild hair. “You can stop trying now.”

He scoffs and pulls back from you. His eyes, still softly swollen with sleep, are wide and glittering. “Why not?” he shouts, a bit too loudly to be so close to your ear. “You’re sweet and you’re my thing— it’s literally the perfect nickname.”

“You’re thing?” you echo with a distant laugh. “I’m not a toy, Eds.”

“Not all the time—” His boyish giggling is followed by a scoffed breath when you elbow him with your free arm. You shove him away halfheartedly, pushing him out of the tiny kitchen. “What?!” he exclaims, laughing loudly.

“Get out of the kitchen!”

“What’d I do?”

“My french toast tastes good ‘cause it’s made with love, and you’re tainting it.”

“How? I love you more than anything in the whole wide world.” He gravitates back to you despite your efforts to keep him away. He plants a smacking kiss to your lips and grins wide when he pulls away. “See? Now it’ll taste extra sweet.”

You’re glaring at him one moment, then happily accepting another one of his kisses the next.

The front door opens, squealing in protest and rushing in the cool morning air. It’s unsurprisingly Wayne. His work boots stomp heavy on the carpet. He holds a greased hand over his forehead. “My eyes are still closed,” he jokes, voice deep and gravelly. “You two have about three seconds to stop touchin’ each other.”

Eddie scoffs but steps back from you anyway. “That was one time!” he argues boyishly. “And we weren’t even doing anything!”

Wayne laughs a sharp breath, just like Eddie had, but a little bit gruffer. He forgoes the petty banter and shoots you a smile — tightlipped, barely-there, and weighed down by the exhaustion of the graveyard shift. “How ya doin’, sweetpea?”

“Good,” you answer, shrinking into your shyness. “I’m makin’ french toast.”

“That’s my favorite,” the older man grins. “How’d you know?”

“‘Cause it’s my favorite,” Eddie insists.

“It’ll be done soon,” you tell him, all quiet in your sheepishness. “If you wanna get changed or whatever.”

Wayne heads to the hallway, stopping short in the kitchen to muss at Eddie’s curls and pat you gently on the shoulder. “Thank ya, sweetpea,” he murmurs, voice dripping with fatigue. His accent always gets real heavy when he’s tired.

“You’re welcome…”

Eddie doesn’t say anything until he hears the bathroom door shut. “So Wayne can call you sweetpea, but I can call you sweet thing?” he asks, features swirled with offense.

“It’s different!”

The boy follows you to the cabinets like a lost puppy. Then, when you have trouble reaching the vanilla extract on the top shelf, he leans over you to grab it. “No, you just have favorites,” he argues, passing you the small container.

“That’s not true!”

“Whatever,” he grumbles, still pouting as he leans against the counter beside you. He mourns the lack of your attention when you give it all to the french toast mixture on the counter. You spoon in the vanilla with a practiced touch. “…Are you staying over again tonight?” he mutters, shier than you are now.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “If it’s okay with Wayne, then—”

“Wayne! Sweet thing’s staying the night— is that okay?” Eddie shouts before you can blink. The trailer rings with the volume of his voice.

“Eddie,” you scold quietly.

The bathroom door squeaks open. A grunt sounds from the hallway, a nonverbal answer you’re not totally sure what to make of. The man returns in the pajamas he pulled from the hall closet — a thin t-shirt older than Eddie is and a pair of plaid pants.

“I’ll make dinner before your shift tonight,” you tell him with a soft grin that neither of the Munsons can say no to. “I promise.”

Wayne makes another scoffing sound. A laugh, maybe. A smile hints at the corner of his bearded mouth as he pours himself a coffee across the counter — in the painted mug Eddie made him for Father’s Day, several years ago now. 

“Well— In that case, I’m afraid I have to insist on you stayin’, sweet pea.”

“Thanks, Mr. Munson.”

“Call me Wayne,” he tells you, playfully chiding in a parental sort of way. He gives you a pointed look over the cup he sips from and heads back towards the living room. “You’re feedin’ us too good to be so polite all the time.”

You smile to yourself and laugh a quiet, slightly forced laugh.

The sofa squeaks when Wayne settles onto it, sprawling out the same way Eddie had before. Too tired to reach for the remote on the coffee table, he watches He-Man re-runs with heavy eyelids.

“Alright, sweet thing— what do you need me to do?” Eddie asks with a clap of his hands, making a very pointed effort not to drop the nickname. You get all flustered when he calls you that — smiling softly to yourself and then ducking your gaze to hide it from him. You’ll have to pry the name from his cold, dead hands.

You turn to peer at him from beneath your lashes. “You dip the bread, and I’ll fry ‘em?”

“Sounds like a plan, sweet thing.”

“Eddie.”

[yanderenightmare]

TW: anger issues, abuse, angst

gn reader

Thinking about boyfriends with anger issues…

How it’s okay in the beginning because your relationship is still fresh, and you’re both trying your best to be perfect for each other. How it’s enough for you to tell him he’s being silly with a sweet kiss to his grumpy cheek when he’s acting grumpy and insisting on having some type of fight with you over something unimportant. It’s enough to defuse him at that point—your unnerving smile and kind eyes, how you’re able to touch him even when he feels nuclear. The knots untangle within his head, and he calms down. He doesn’t apologize, but he gets sheepish and plays dumb until he’s cracking you up with some dumb joke—so you forgive him anyway.

The fights get worse over time, but so do the good times. He’s so perfect when he’s good, you forget about the bad. And you’re still able to disengage, at least most of the time. You can leave or ignore and dismiss—you can even agree to be wrong sometimes, even when you’re not. It doesn’t really matter. Those arguments are never about who’s right anyway—it’s just about fighting to see who can outlast the other. You swear, sometimes it feels like you’re the accused on the stand in a courtroom, but the judge has vacated, and it’s just you against the lawyer hurling pointed question after question at you.

Oh, but then he brings flowers, makes you smile and laugh, does something romantic, and tells you sweet nothings that make you blush. It feels right when you move in together. You love him. And you know he loves you. He still doesn’t ever apologize for his behavior—at least not with words—but he tries making up for it otherwise. After particularly nasty fights, when you go to sleep without him and without sharing another word, he’s on his best and brightest behavior the day after—makes you breakfast, drives you to work, offers to pick you up, suggests you do something fun later.

It's soothing that he knows he’s in the wrong. It makes it easier to forgive him. Makes you believe he’ll change.

Only he doesn’t.

The bathroom becomes your escape, a space you can retreat to when you’re on the brink. You don’t want to cry in front of him—he can get so mean sometimes, and the tears just egg him on like it’s some game he’s winning. It doesn’t really dawn on you that you’re hiding from him. If you admit that to yourself, nothing would make sense anymore. If you admit that to yourself, you wouldn’t be able to defend staying with him. And so you can’t. You suppress it. You’re not hiding from him—if he were to come knock on the door to let him in, you’d let him in. So you’re not hiding from him. No, you’re just in there for a quick breath of your own and to give him a little space.

But though you deny it, he feels you slipping away—and it only serves to make him more combatant. Raised voices turn into roaring—you fear the neighbors might complain. Nothing works anymore. If you walk away, he follows angrier than before. If you agree to disagree, he’ll only use it against you. If you cry, he laughs.

The time you get as ugly as he gets and start fighting back with your own insults is when he puts his fist through the wall right next to you.

The house shakes for a moment, then stands still. All is silent. Neither of you moves. You’re as stiff as a mannequin, and your eyes have never been wider—and yet you don’t look at him. Your gaze is fixed at nothing in particular as if unable to look anywhere else. You have a hand against his chest—it shakes. He feels it, and it’s a gross feeling—worse than the pain in his hand.

And he knows. He knows he’s ruined it. He knows it’s the exact moment he’s lost you.

No, actually. He probably lost you a while back…

He pulls his fist out of the drywall—the thin plate follows him before he drags it out with force. Dust and fibers stick to his skin in blotches where the blood coats his hand, seeping from the splits on his knuckles. It stings, but it isn’t the worst. No, his chest feels worse.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers hoarsely through the strain in his tightening throat. “I’m sorry.” He can never repeat it enough for it to be enough. Fuck, what’s he done? What can he do? There’s a gaping hole in the wall he has you pressed up against, and it’s about to swallow him up.

“You’re bleeding,” comes your voice—as from the break of light in a stormy sky that reminds him it’s still day. “We need to disinfect it.”

He doesn’t dare protest, even as it confuses him how trivial you are about it. He just trails after you as you take him to the bathroom and clean him up. Holding his damaged hand in both of yours while you guide it under the tap, rinsing off the debris and blood, letting it all go down the drain. He didn’t even know you had a first aid kit, but you seem well-versed for some reason—how you dab the cuts with alcohol-soaked cotton, then tape shut the deeper slits before wrapping it all in a strip of bandage.

You take him to the bedroom, but neither of you speaks. He’s afraid to. And yet, both of you say goodnight while lying on opposite sides of the bed. He doesn’t know what feeling it is that simmers within his chest, but it makes it the worst night of his life.

And still, he must have slept soundly.

You’re gone in the morning—you’re essential things with you.

It’s strange, but he isn’t even angry. No… You left a note for him, but he can’t read it—not through the swelling of his eyes as they burn with salt and water and regrets that know no end.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks, Enji, Shinso ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Megumi, Toji ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kageyama, Iwaizumi, Sakusa, Ukai ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin ♡ AOT – Eren, Levi ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist