#but it stills feels misplaced to me idk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelscurls · 1 year ago

Text

I wanna show you off

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 4.1k

summary: The women who live in your building aren't subtle in their hatred for you — or their affection for your boyfriend, Joel. You decide to set them straight.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, porn with plot, no outbreak, established relationship, implied age gap, horrible neighbors, general cattiness, all the ladies want Joel, alcohol consumption, fluff, explicit smut, possessive!reader, exhibitionism, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), facefucking, unprotected piv, creampie, one (1) spank, use of pet names (baby, angel, darlin', etc.), I think that's all? lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: idk what happened. I saw one too many tiktok edits set to the song agora hills by doja cat and blacked out. anyway, enjoy!

If it weren’t for your rent-controlled apartment with a perfect view of the downtown skyline, you would’ve moved out of your building by now.

Your neighbors don’t like you. You’re certain of it. You can tell by the way the ladies stick their noses up at you in the elevator and whisper to each other the second they think you’re out of earshot.

It had started, you suspect, because of your age. You’re a lot younger than all of the other residents here, your apartment left to you by your grandmother after she passed away.

The building is prime real estate, situated in the heart of one of the city’s most desirable neighborhoods. Most of the people who live here have done so for ten, twenty, even thirty years. And it seems that time has festered a sort of social hierarchy: one which places you at the very bottom.

You shouldn’t care. And you hadn’t, for a while. But their eyes have started to feel like daggers, pointed directly at you at all times, and you feel as if you can’t even enter the building without judgment.

You’re not a bad neighbor. You’re not. You’d learned through living in a dormitory in college how thin shared walls can be, and, as a result, the proper volume at which to keep your music; how you should always be cautious to not let your door slam closed on the way in; that you should never vacuum after eight pm or before eight am.

You never leave trash in the hallway, and you park your car only in your allotted spot, despite the fact that it’s the farthest away from the building.

Even so, the lack of weathering in your face makes them look at you like you’re less, like you’re a greedy little thing who has taken something she isn’t worthy of.

It’s the same way they look at you when they see you with your boyfriend, Joel, for the first time.

They leer when you walk into the foyer, hand-in-hand with an older man. He’s handsome, rugged, something out of Nicholas Sparks novel. And you’re you.

Joel thinks you’re being paranoid at first, says they couldn’t possibly hate such a sweet, friendly girl. The girl he loves so damn much. But it doesn’t take long for him to notice it too: the glares, the scoffs, the misplaced judgment — never set in his direction, only ever yours.

One Sunday afternoon, as he sits on your couch watching the Cowboys game with a sweating bottle of beer in his hand, you step out to grab your mail. You’re close to tears when you return, flinging the door open, envelopes slipping from your trembling fingers.

He leaps up as soon as he catches sight of your face. Your expression is stuck somewhere between sadness and rage, bottom lip tucked between your teeth so firmly he worries you’ll draw blood.

“I hate them,” you sob as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his broad chest. You’re wetting his shirt, the one he just bought the other day. But he won’t let you lift your head. If anything, he holds you tighter.

“Wanna tell me what happened, darlin?” he asks, leading you toward the couch. You sit down together, your body still wrapped in his, and you groan.

“It’s stupid.” Your voice is muffled by cotton. He loosens his grip on you only enough to let you turn your face. “I was getting my mail, and they were down in the lobby,” you sniff. “The woman who lives right next door – the one with the outdated perm, and the one across the hall with the yippy little dog.”

“Mhm,” Joel soothes, running his thumb gently along the tense line of your jaw. “Did they say somethin’ to you?”

You huff. “No, not to me. They didn’t see me there.”

Their hushed voices still ring in your head like a fire alarm in need of new batteries: relentless, infuriating.

Don’t know what in the world a handsome gentleman like that is doing with a little girl like her. You’re tellin’ me. What a shame. Such a young thing – she can’t possibly know how to handle a man like that. He needs a woman his own age!

“They said I’m not good for you,” you weep. “That I’m too young. That I — I c-can’t be what you need.”

“Darlin,” Joel drawls. He fishes the tv remote off of the coffee table and flicks the screen off. Drops it somewhere next to him on the cushion. The apartment is noticeably quiet now, apart from your shaky breaths and the dull drone of an idling truck engine from the street below.

“You know I love you, right?”

You sniff again. Nod.

“I don’t give a shit if people think you’re too young for me,” he huffs. “You’re a grown woman. You give me everything I could possibly need and then some.”

“Yeah?” you squeak. You know deep down that Joel wouldn’t stay with you if he had any reservations about any aspect of your relationship. But after months of no reprieve from stinging glares and brash insults, you feel as if you’ve been broken down, reduced to an anxious, overwrought version of yourself.

Joel repositions himself, sprawling back on the couch and pulling you with him so that you’re laying against him. “Yeah,” he repeats, stroking your hair. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, away from your glassy eyes. “Those ladies can get their asses in line.”

You laugh, then — a real, genuine laugh — the kind that Joel can somehow always pull out of you, even in the most inopportune of times.

You’re so grateful for him, for his innate ability to calm you down when it feels like the world is crumbling below your feet. Grateful that he’s yours.

You lift your head. Prop yourself up by the elbow on Joel’s thigh. Wipe away the lingering wet on your cheeks with a deep, settling breath.

“Does it stroke your ego, having a fan club of women who wanna fuck you?”

He smirks. Pulls you closer to him with a hand cradling your face.

“Maybe a little,” he whispers, his lips ghosting yours. “Does it stroke your ego, bein’ the only one who gets to fuck me?”

And in truth, it does. You’re the only one who knows where he likes to be kissed, how he likes his cock stroked, how to make him cum embarrassingly quick with just your mouth.

You’ve learned him intimately, every inch of him. Ruined him for any other woman.

So in a fucked up kind of way — it does.

“Yeah,” you admit. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, silently reveling in the way he immediately moans, the way he bends to you.

“These all mine?” You bring a finger to his lips, sputter on a shaky exhale when he unexpectedly parts them and sucks the digit into his mouth.

“Mhm,” he hums around you, takes your free hand in his and guides it down his body, across the expanse of his torso, the plush of his belly, pausing when you reach his crotch.

Your pulse quickens, then, a dull throb forming at the base of your neck. You extricate your finger from his mouth with a gentle pop.

“This too,” he whispers, canting his hips up toward the flat of your palm.

He’s half-hard, his clothed bulge pleading for attention. But he pulls your hand away quickly, not letting himself get carried away at the feeling of your fingers grazing him through denim.

Instead, he re-situates it against his chest so that you can feel his heartbeat where it hammers under skin, against flesh and bone. “This is all yours too,” he says, voice so low it reverberates in your skull.

“All of it — all of me. Don’t gotta worry your pretty little head with anythin’ anyone else has to say about the matter. Got it?”

His words are spoken with so much conviction that you have no choice but to believe them, to let them stick in your brain like anchors in sand: deep and immovable.

Yours, yours, yours.

And nobody else’s.

“Yeah,” you smile into the column of his neck, inhaling his scent: mostly him, but with notes of you.

“Got it.”

It’s two weeks later when she makes a move on him: the woman with the perm. Joel is taken aback by her boldness, with you just a few feet away, digging your key into the lock of your mailbox.

“You must work with your hands,” she purrs, grabbing one of his wrists and examining his calloused fingers with such little integrity, his mouth actually slips open at the unabashedness of it all.

“Uh-”

“I’m Sheila,” she hums, raking her fingers through tight, blonde curls. “And you are?”

“Joel,” he grunts noncommittally. Wrenches his arm back. He doesn’t miss the way her eyebrows twitch in offense.

But she’s insatiable, this woman. She bounces back like a rubber band, not-so-subtly pushing her breasts together, the zip of her sweatshirt slipping down an inch and her mouth curving into a salacious grin.

You just about stop dead in your tracks when you round the corner to the lobby, junk mail in hand, and see her, her body turned towards Joel’s, chest pushed out and hip popped. She has a bedazzled tote bag full of groceries slung over her shoulder, a head of leafy greens poking out the top.

“Hi neighbor!” she smiles mockingly at you, all lipstick-stained teeth, when you sidle up to Joel. “I was just telling your friend here what nice, strong arms he has.” She’s not looking at you, eyes locked firmly on Joel’s biceps, nearly drooling at the sight of him.

Heat spools behind your ears, red-hot.

“Not her friend,” Joel corrects before you can. “‘M her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” she says. “Boyfriend.” Her lips wrap loosely around the word, like it’s some fanciful thing. “You’re too old to be someone’s boyfriend.”

Joel takes a step away from her, closer to you, and splays a steadying hand across your back. “Man-friend, then.”

You laugh, not because it’s funny, but because this entire conversation is fucking awkward.

Sheila pays you no attention.

“Well,” she sighs, overtly staring at the exposed skin of Joel’s chest, where the top two buttons of his flannel are undone, “Joel, if you’re ever lookin’ for a good meal, I’m just next door.” She flits her eyes up to his and smirks. “Know a big man like you has gotta eat.”

Your vision blurs scarlet.

Joel is equally as infuriated. The disrespect of this woman, to so openly flirt with him in front of you. His fists ball tightly at his sides.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he gruffs. “Anyway, nice to meet ya ma’am-“

“Sheila,” she reminds him.

“Sheila,” he repeats, only to appease her. He turns to you, squeezing your waist affectionately. “We should probably get goin’, right sweetheart?”

You’re still fuming, barely able to register Joel’s voice next to you through the thick haze of pure fury clouding your mind, but you manage to nod, spit out a hurried yeah.

And with that, Joel is turning on his heels, pulling you with him toward the elevators. You don’t dare look back at her, but you can feel her eyes boring a hole in the back of your head.

Her footfall fades into the mailroom and you breathe a minuscule sigh of relief. At least she’s out of your sight.

“Please just move in with me,” Joel begs when you’re finally behind closed metal doors, the inspection plaque situated above the buttons suddenly extremely interesting as you try to focus on not thinking about setting this woman’s apartment on fire.

You’ve talked about living together a few times. It’s just — you’ve never considered it so seriously until right now.

“I can’t let them win,” you mutter, agitated.

You hate how they’ve made you feel, like you’re some helpless animal tucked in the corner, hiding from them. Just waiting for the next ambush.

With the passing of each floor, your anger simmers, bubbles into a silent rage in your stomach, one which threatens to boil over at the next underestimation of Joel’s devotion to you. You need to make it known, once and for all, that he’s yours.

Words from your grandmother play on a loop in your head, ones she repeated to you often when you were a child: if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

And then you have a thought — a devious thought — maybe you don’t have to say anything to get your point across. Not to them, anyway.

Your mouth is on Joel the second you’re back inside the four walls of your own apartment, slotting against his pulse point and sucking a desperate bruise there.

He’s not expecting it — why would he be? You’ve just been seething the entire elevator ride up to your floor, the entire walk down the long, winding hallway to your unit. He’d practically been able to see the steam billowing from your ears.

So the switch-up is more than a bit dizzying, to say the least.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he pants, his large hands draping over your shoulders. “What are you-”

“Joel.” Your voice is stern; it demands his attention. “Do you trust me?”

Your hand trails down his body languidly, in a straight line to the waistband of his jeans. And fuck, of course he trusts you — more than anyone. But this is wrong, fucked up, for you to make him feel good when you’ve been made to feel so small these past few minutes.

Still, his cock doesn’t get the memo, twitching in his jeans as you place another open-mouthed kiss on the underside of his jaw, your fingers beginning to fiddle with his belt buckle.

You give him no choice with the way you’re touching him, the way you’re looking at him when you pull back, all pleading eyes and parted mouth, but to resign all protest. He’ll give you the world, and if right now you want to use his body to blow off some steam, who is he to complain about it?

“Yeah baby, of course,” he breathes. “What do you need?”

You smirk at him audaciously, tongue smoothing over your teeth. “Need you to be loud,” you purr. Your voice is so innocent in juxtaposition to the words you spew. It sends a chill down the column of his spine. “Let them know who makes you feel good.”

He nearly cums in his pants untouched, grasps at the fabric of your shirt with clumsy hands and nods. “Fuck, okay.”

His belt falls to the floor with a clang.

He lets you take control, then. Lets you mark him with your tongue and your teeth, lets you back him to the door with deft fingers working his shirt buttons open before sinking to your knees in front of him, freeing his hardening cock from the confines of his jeans and boxers.

It’s already weeping for you when you pull it out, precum beading at the tip. He’s so big, growing heavier in your hand with each passing second, and you lose yourself for a moment, hypnotized by him.

“Always so eager to please me, aren’t you, pretty girl?” Joel’s voice pulls you back to earth, soft and adoring.

“Louder,” you remind him. Plant a kiss right over top of his leaking slit.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth. One of his hands flies to the crown of your head, anchoring himself with fingers in your hair. “Dirty fucking girl.”

His voice fills the entranceway, confident and filthy.

“Mmm,” you hum approvingly.

“Yeah? You want me to tell ‘em? Tell ‘em you’re making my cock drool for you? That nobody — shit-” You enclose your lips around his tip, suckling on it as your fingers wrap around the base of his length and you begin to stroke him lazily. “-that nobody has ever made me feel this good?”

Footsteps echo down the hallway and the sound makes you reflexively pause, your hand stiling on Joel’s cock. It’s followed by the jingling of metal, the click of a key in a lock, the opening and closing of a door — all close enough that you can pinpoint the source, can tell where exactly it’s coming from.

Sheila is home.

Perfect.

It’s probably worrying how excited it makes you, the prospect of her hearing, of her sitting alone in her apartment, at her empty dining table, and listening to Joel fall apart at your hands. Maybe they’ve driven you to and over the edge of sanity with their words, her most of all. Regardless, you can’t help the way it makes your cunt flutter around nothing.

You lick a slow stripe up the underside of Joel’s cock, starting just above his balls and dragging the flat of your tongue up, up, up to his tip. His breath shudders, his grip on your hair tightening, and the subtle sting at the center of your scalp gives you another idea.

“Do you wanna fuck my face, Joel?”

“Do I wanna — fuck — you’re gonna kill me, angel.”

“Go ahead,” you encourage, unhinging your jaw as wide as it can go, letting your tongue droop over your bottom lip.

Saliva pools in your waiting mouth and Joel groans at the sight of you, so malleable for him, begging to be used.

“You sure?”

It’s not that he doesn’t think you can handle it. He knows you can. You’ve taken him down your throat more times than he can count. Always so fucking eager to please him, you are — just one of the many reasons he feels so goddamn lucky, so infuriated that anyone would think otherwise.

But still, he can’t help but worry that he’ll hurt you.

You nod, eyes locked on him, confirming beyond a shadow of a doubt that you want this. He nods back, beginning to feed his cock into your mouth, easing it in slowly and halting when his head hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag.

You don’t pull away, don’t show any indication of displeasure. In fact, you dig your fingers into the meat of his thighs, bearing down on him as you push forward. Mascara tears stain your cheeks as you choke on him, laser-focused on relaxing your throat so that you can accommodate more of his length.

Joel pulls back, retreating entirely before pushing in again. He slowly increases his pace, your eyes hooded, so doelike and innocent, as his cockhead bruises your larynx.

The sounds he’s pulling from your mouth are absurdly lewd: muffled gags and frantic inhales of breath. And then there’s him, moaning wildly, not sure if he’d be able to shut up even if he needed to be quiet. Your mouth is good, too fucking good and he’s going to — fuck, he’s going to cum if you don’t stop.

He pulls out abruptly, a string of drool and precum tethering the tip of his cock to your swollen bottom lip. You’re panting, coughing, still bracing yourself against his legs when you fucking smile up at him.

“Christ,” he says. “Fuckin’ angel, you are. Mouth feels like goddamn heaven.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But I need to cum in that perfect little cunt,” he breathes, pulling a strangled moan from the back of your rawed throat.

He helps you up, spins you around to face the door. You brace both hands on the wood, humming as he pulls your pants down to your knees. His breath is on the back of your neck, trailing up to the shell of your ear with one whisper just for you, because he can’t help it.

“So fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?”

You shiver, responding with a tilt of your head, inviting him in with a needy little mewl. He cradles your face in one of his large hands, the other rubbing over the curve of your ass as he kisses you passionately, tasting himself on your tongue.

The hand on your ass trails lower as he deepens the kiss, two fingers pressing against your clothed seam. You’ve all but soaked through the fabric, wet cotton molding to his knuckles as he caresses them along your pussy before pulling your panties down in one swift motion.

You whine into the kiss, desperate and dripping for him. “Please,” you breathe against his lips. “I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

“Know you will,” he coos, mouth parting from yours as he straightens out and lines himself up with your entrance. You arch your back, rocking onto the balls of your feet as he teases you with the tip.

His cock is so thick when it finally notches into you. It’s always so devastatingly thick, no matter how wet you are for him. The stretch stings, a jolt of warm pain coursing through your walls as he stills halfway in.

“You okay?” he asks, one hand resting at the small of your back, the other on your hip, fingers gripping to you only tight enough to hold you in place.

“Yes, fuck — yes,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me, Joel.”

“I’m goin’ to baby, don’t worry,” 'he promises, pushing in another splitting inch. “Pussy’s so goddamn tight, ‘ts suckin’ me right in.”

It feels like hours pass with Joel’s cock motionless inside your aching cunt, his warm breath fanning across your back as he focuses on not cumming. You’re whimpering, begging under the weight of his body, to please just fucking move.

When he finally obliges you, pulling all the way out and then bottoming out in one deep thrust, it nearly punches the air out of your chest. You scrabble for purchase on the door, fingernails scraping against chipped paint. “F-uucckk,” you moan, eyes rolling back in your head as he sets a dizzying pace.

The sound of his balls slapping against the back of your thighs is enough to attract attention on its own, the loud smacksmacksmack going straight to your cunt. Joel growls behind you, driving into you even harder, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot.

“Oh, shit,” you cry. Your pussy inadvertently squeezes him and he curses at your back, low and deep.

“Not going to last if you keep doin’ that,” he warns. “Cunt is too fuckin’ good. Best I’ve ever — uuuhh — had.”

He’s not just saying it for show. It’s true. You know it is, too. He’s told you before, both under the influence of your pussy and not. Waited too many goddamn years to feel like this, he’d said once.

“It’s — fuck, it’s fine Joel,” you mutter. “I’m close too, just keep going, right there.”

A door across the hall creaks open. A pair of footsteps patter across tile.

Do you hear that? Yeah; what is that noise?

Joel laughs darkly behind you, snaps his hips up, forcing a guttural moan out of you.

“Think they caught us, darlin’,” he says. “Caught you takin’ my cock like you’re fuckin’ made to.”

Oh my word!

Joel is unrelenting, pounding into you despite the voices right outside your apartment, and you fear for a moment that you’ve created a monster. One of his hands leaves its place on your waist, cracks down on the center of your asscheek with a slap, the flesh recoiling under his palm and you gasp.

The feeling travels between your legs, straight to your neglected clit. It pulsates under the hood with every pass of Joel’s cock over your g-spot, and you feel yourself hurtling toward the edge dangerously fast.

If these people don’t leave, they’re going to hear you cum. Do you want them to hear you cum? Yeah, you think, clit jumping again at the thought, I think I fucking do.

“Joel, fuck-”

“You gonna cum?” he goads. “Yeah, can feel you squeezin’ me — you’re gonna cum, aren’t ya?”

This is vulgar! We should file a noise complaint. C’mon.

His hand snakes around your front then, finds your throbbing bud, and with a few passes of his calloused fingertips, you’re gone, vision whiting out and all noise around you muted.

Joel keeps you upright between him and the door, his grip on you tightening as your muscles slacken. He follows closely behind, cumming inside you with a carnal noise from the back of his throat, rope after rope of his spend filling your cunt.

He pulls out with a grunt, immediately collapsing on the floor. Without his support, you topple over too, falling onto his lap with a satiated giggle.

A banging comes from the other side of the wall then, shaking your kitchen cabinets a few feet away, the clanging of glassware jolting you.

Keep it down next time! I don’t need to hear that!

And then you’re laughing like teenagers, Joel pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, all tongues and teeth.

“Think they’re really gonna make a noise complaint?” Joel asks when you finally come up for air.

“I dunno,” you smile. “Does your offer still stand — for me to move in with you?”

“Always,” he vows, forehead resting against yours.

end notes: ty for reading! pls consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed <3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal as joel miller #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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cxtori · 6 months ago

Text

Satoru Gojo ✭ Kiss Me Back

wc: basically 5k… it wasn’t meant to be lmao

summary: based off of this thought i posted a while ago

genre: angst, fluff, drunk “confession” but it gets misunderstood, friends to lovers, silly drunk Gojo

warnings: n/a

tori’s note: I finished this fic after having it in my drafts for almost a year. I kinda strayed from how my original prompt went lol. Idk how I feel about the second half of this, I’m not a huge fan of it but y’know, it be what it be. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Gojo doesn’t drink often. In fact, it’s more accurate to say he never drinks. He hates alcohol. The way it tastes, the way it burns, and especially how quickly it affects his system.

He’s always been a lightweight, it only taking a few shots before he was intoxicated. But for some reason, Shoko’s teasing pressure to get him to drink got to him a lot more tonight than usual.

It was supposed to be only one shot, then just one more. But now, here he is, a couple hours later and 6 shots down, drunk and stumbling, leaning against you for support.

You grunt as you struggle to keep the tall man vertical and walk him down the street to your car.

“You are amazing, Y/n,” Gojo slurs, wrapping his arm tighter around your neck. You huff and roll your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve said that 3 times already,” you laugh lightly. Gojo trips over his own foot, causing you to stumble and almost fall. Thankfully, you catch yourself and keep the two of you from crashing into the concrete.

“Jeez, Toru! Are you serious?” You ask, unbelieving that he was so intoxicated that he really couldn’t walk straight. Gojo only moans miserably in response. “We’re almost there,” you sigh.

You knew how much he hated the repercussions of drinking and tried to stop him before it was too late. But he seemed to be feeling a little self-destructive tonight, so your warnings fell on deaf ears, much to your annoyance. Even so, you still felt empathetic enough to take him home yourself, turning down Nanami’s kind offer to do so.

After another block of walking and stumbling, you finally make it to your car, opening the passenger side and awkwardly shuffling around as you try to help Gojo into the seat. It felt like he was purposefully doing everything he could to make this simple task as complicated as possible. Which, honestly, you wouldn’t put past him.

You eventually get him and his lanky limbs into the vehicle and hold back a laugh when he groans and dramatically drapes himself over your center console, arms spilling into the driver’s seat. You walk around to the other side of the car, moving his arms carefully before sitting down and pushing him to lean against the window.

“Okay, tough guy. You still have the water Nanami gave you?” You ask. Gojo clumsily reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out the water bottle he somehow managed to fit in there. Damn men’s pocket sizes.

“Good, I want it empty by the time I make it to your place,” you state, turning on the car and pulling into the street.

“The whole thing?” Gojo whines. You laugh breathily, finding amusement in his drunk demeanor.

“Yes, the whole thing. Gotta stay hydrated so drink up!” You encourage.

The white-haired man mutters a complaint as he cracks open the bottle, and you watch dumbfounded as he drains it in seconds.

“I didn’t mean drink it all at once…” you say. Gojo shrugs and sinks further into his seat.

You drive in silence for a few minutes, the pale, orange street lights whizzing by and the soft, white noise of the tires rolling on the pavement making the ride a peaceful, comforting experience. At least it would be if Gojo wasn’t staring holes into the side of your face.

In his drunkenness, he’d somehow managed to misplace his glasses and blindfold, much to your dismay. You adore those brilliant blue eyes, but damn, if they weren’t intimidating as hell when they were staring you down. You do your best to ignore it, keeping your eyes focused on the road ahead of you.

You feel your heart skip a beat when a cold, calloused finger presses gently against your temple before tracing your hairline, sweeping your hair behind your ear.

“You’re so pretty,” Gojo whispers, his words barely audible. Your breath catches in your throat, caught off guard by the sudden compliment.

“O-oh, umm… I- th-thank you,” you stutter horribly. Gojo hums softly as though he’s satisfied with your reaction before laughing lightly. His hand leaves your quickly heating face as he turns back to the window, slumping against the cool glass.

After what couldn’t have possibly even been a minute, you hear the faintest snore come from the man. You poke his arm, expecting some kind of reaction. But nope, he’s out.

You take a deep breath and start blasting the AC. It suddenly feels really stuffy in here.

You soon reach his house and pull into the driveway before parking the car and climbing out. You open the passenger door, being careful to not let Gojo dump out onto the ground. You shake his shoulders, whispering to him that he was home and needed to wake up. After some gentle-turned-vigorous shaking, the man wakes up bleary eyed and a bit confused.

“Have a nice nap, sleeping beauty?” You tease, taking his arm and attempting to pull him to his feet. He grunts, reluctantly swinging his feet out of the car and onto the ground. The moment he stands, he leans back against the car, his eyes squeezed shut in discomfort.

“Shhhhit, why did I do that?” He slurs, the alcohol still screwing with his brain. At least he’s more coherent than 30 minutes ago.

“Not to be like that, but I did try to stop you,” you joke.

“Shut up,” he groans. His eyes open and meet with yours, but instead of holding the annoyed glare you were expecting, they were soft, appreciative. His typically pale complexion was still dusted pink, though not nearly as flushed as earlier, and there’s the faintest hint of a smile to accompany it.

He leans against you, his arms snaking around your waist in a loose hug, and his head resting heavily on your shoulder as he sighs. “Thank you, Y/n.”

“Why don’t you thank me when I’ve gotten you inside!” You laugh awkwardly, pushing the large man off of you.

Gojo pouts, his soft, pink lips protruding in a way that could only be described as borderline sensual. You tear your eyes away from him and link your arm in his to walk him into the house with much less stumbling this time.

You make it inside, Gojo dragging down the hall to his room while you dig in his kitchen cabinets in search of ibuprofen. Once you’ve found what you’re looking for, you grab a glass and fill it with water before making your way to Gojo’s room.

You knock on the door, the sound echoing through the cold, empty hallway. A muffled “come in” reaches your ears and you open the door.

You step in and your eyes land on a half-naked Gojo sitting on his bed, stopping you in your tracks. He did say to come in, didn’t he?

He looks at you, a questioning expression written on his face. With everything he’s done this evening, it’s beginning to be hard to believe he’s not purposefully trying to fluster you.

You draw in a breath and walk over to him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you nervous.

“Here, for the potential hangover,” you say, handing him the pills and water. He takes it gratefully, downing the meds and water quickly. He sets the glass on the nightstand with a soft thunk, and an odd silence follows after.

“Well, I’m gonna head home now. G’night, Toru,” you say, turning on your heels and heading to the door. Your hand barely touches the doorknob when Gojo says your name.

“Y/n,” he calls quietly. You stop and turn to him with a questioning hum, but he doesn’t give any response back other than a waving hand, signaling for you to come back to him. You shuffle awkwardly to stand in front of him, confused about what he wants.

He stands up, his chest almost bumping against yours as he does so. You begin to take a step back, but before you can, his hands are on your waist, holding you in place. You look up at him to ask what he’s doing, but the words get stuck in your throat the moment your eyes meet his.

Those bright, cerulean eyes that were so often hidden from the world, were looking at you with such care and fondness that it made your chest tighten.

Before you’re even aware of what’s happening, his warm, soft lips are pressing tenderly against yours.

Your tense muscles relax and eyes flutter shut as your lips push back against his. His hands grip your waist as he pulls you closer to him before one lifts the back of your shirt, fingers dragging slowly over your skin.

You sigh into him, your own hands traveling up his arms, to his neck, eventually finding home in his silky hair. His other hand moves from your hip to your face, cupping your cheek as he deepens the kiss.

His tongue darts out and sweeps across your lips and the faintest lingering taste of bitter alcohol bites your tastebuds, snapping you back to reality. It’s only then that you remember who you’re kissing, where you are, and how you got there.

Your eyes fly open and hands move to his chest, pushing him away from you harshly. Gojo loses his balance, landing back into a sitting position on his bed, his once peaceful expression now shocked and confused.

Your hand covers your mouth, surprised by your own actions. It’s only a second or two that you stay there, staring at each other before you decide that you should definitely leave.

“I’m sorry, I need to go,” you say, wasting no time in leaving his room and ignoring his calls for you. You jump into your car and start the engine before your door is even closed.

What were you thinking? He’s the drunkest he’s been in ages, how could you let that happen? You curse yourself as you drive home, frustrated that you allowed such a thing when your friend was in such a vulnerable state.

You make it home and park in the driveway, but you don’t leave. You sit in your car and stare blankly at the steering wheel as the full weight of regret begins to sink in.

You’ve desperately wanted that man to kiss you for years now. But not like this! Not when he was intoxicated and most likely not thinking straight. You wanted a genuine kiss; one he gave you because he truly wanted to. Not because his drunk-self just wanted attention.

How are you supposed to keep your feelings for him under wraps after this?

You’ll just have to lie. You’ll tell him that it was just a slip up, that you were caught off guard. That he kissed you and- dammit, you kissed him back! And not only that, you were wrapping your arms around him. You can’t play off your feelings for him when you kissed him like that!

You groan painfully as you open your door and force yourself into your house, trudging your way to your room. You change your clothes and crawl into bed before plugging your phone in. The screen lights up with the red battery, which disappears quickly, revealing a missed call and several texts from Gojo.

I’m sorry Y/n. Can we please talk?

It wasn’t what you think

Y/n?

Hello?

He almost never texts you, let alone several times in a row. But you can’t find it in you to respond. You turn off your phone and stare at your ceiling for what feels like an eternity, the moment replaying in your mind on repeat.

It wasn’t what you think? What is he assuming you think?

You raise a finger to your mouth, remembering how it felt to have his lips on yours as you trace over them.

It was so warm, so sweet. The way he held you close to him, so strong yet gentle. The way his thumb stroked over your face so tenderly. Maybe… it was real.

No. You can’t allow yourself to believe it was genuine and get your hopes up, you can’t.

You roll over onto your side just as your screen lights up once more. You take a glance at it and find another text from Gojo.

I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Please let me explain.

A new wave of anxiety washes over you when you realize you’ll have to see him tomorrow. You do work at the same school after all. You don’t have a few days to process this or even find a way to respond.

You wrap tighter into yourself and painful tears fill your eyes, not taking long before they’re streaming down your face and soaking into your pillow. You just want the earth to open and swallow you.

Your only comfort is in the slim possibility that he was still drunk enough to have a chance of not having clear memories the next day. Maybe he’d wake up, see the messages he’d sent you and not even remember what it was about.

You know it’s a foolish hope. He wasn’t drunk enough during that kiss to have no recollection of it. Even so, it’s the only thought that calms you down enough to fall asleep.

Okay, all you have to do is file a couple reports, meet with Ijichi and Nitta, and check in with Shoko on a new corpse. You don’t even have to be on campus the whole day, just do your few tasks and leave.

You were not going to talk to Gojo today. You’re not sure your heart can handle it right now. You’ve barely even processed what happened last night. It’s like your mind is trying to convince you it was a dream. But the unanswered texts still sitting in your inbox say otherwise.

You decided you would do your best to avoid the inevitable conversation. You’re sure that when he sees you, he’ll likely confront you about it. But, if you were with others, you knew he’d keep his mouth shut. You can’t hide from him, but you make damn sure he can’t catch you alone.

You know you’ll have to talk about it eventually, just not today. And maybe not tomorrow. Or the day after that.

You take a deep breath as you walk into the school and head for Yaga’s office. You’re not too worried about bumping into Gojo here as he usually avoids this part of the school simply because he’s afraid of running into Yaga and being asked to do something he doesn’t want to.

You make it there without incident and knock on Yaga’s door before entering. Thankfully, your meeting doesn’t last long as you just have to turn in your reports and give him a quick rundown of your past week’s assignments.

Next was finding Ijichi and Nitta. Which meant going to the more common areas of the school. Which meant risking running into Gojo.

At this point, you were just hoping he decided to go MIA today as he typically did. Or maybe he’d be too hung over to even bother getting out of bed. Whatever the case may be, you just hoped he wouldn’t be behind the door to which you are about to enter.

You turn the doorknob quietly and poke your head in, finding no one but Ijichi sitting at a desk looking over a stack of papers, and you feel relieved. You step inside and Ijichi looks up, a small smile appearing once he sees it’s you.

“Ahh, Y/n. You’re a bit early,” he greets kindly.

“Haha, yeah. My meeting with Yaga didn’t take as long as expected,” you laugh softly as you walk over to the desk and take a seat across from the man. “Where’s Nitta?”

“She’s currently out with the first years. They were sent to investigate the disturbance you reported a few days ago. Turns out it was just a few Grade 3 curses roaming around.” Ijichi replies.

He shuffles the papers spread out on the desk into a few separate piles before picking up each one, shaking them into neat stacks and paper clipping them together.

“Oh, that’s good to know,” you say with a smile. “So, you said you and Nitta needed something?”

“Oh, yes. We wanted your opinion on-”

“Gooood morning!” A familiar voice calls happily as the door swings open. You hunch over in your chair and glue your eyes to the papers in front of you, not daring to look at the man. You didn’t think you would run into him this soon.

“Oh, goodmorning, Gojo,” Ijichi says.

“Ijichi,” Gojo greets and nods to his co-worker.

He turns to you, your eyes still studying the reports laying in front of you. It was obvious you weren’t reading them though, considering they were upside down to you. “Y/n,” he says quietly.

You still refuse to look at him, mumbling a barely audible “good morning” in return.

Ijichi, sensing some tension, clears his throat and returns to the matter that brought you here in the first place. He only had a few questions, wanting your opinion on which recent cases should be assigned to which students. It wasn’t long before you had fulfilled your need and could leave.

You say your goodbyes, stand from the desk and make your way to the door, still having not spared Gojo, who was leaning against one of the couches, even a glance.

Despite hiding his eyes behind that dark blindfold of his, you could tell he’d been staring at you the whole time. You could practically feel his gaze burning holes into your skin. But, just as you expected, he didn’t dare bring up anything about the previous night with Ijichi in the room.

You walk out the door, thankfully leaving Gojo behind it. But you weren’t sure how long he’d stay there. You make your way quickly through the halls as you head towards the morgue. You open the door and step inside, the cold air making your body shake with a chill.

You walk through, but find no sign of Shoko. Deciding that she must be in the office, you turn and start making your way over, it being just a couple doors down the hall.

You step outside of the morgue and about jump out of your skin when you’re met with blinding white hair. Gojo. Of course. You should’ve known he would catch up to you.

You stand there for a moment, him standing in the doorway and therefore blocking your exit. You still can’t bring yourself to look at him, not really, only giving him quick glances. It must be so easy for him to make “eye contact” when he doesn’t really have to.

“Can we talk?” He says, his voice taking on an unusually shaky and serious tone, and you suppress a sigh. Any hope you had of him not remembering last night shattered with those three words.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you say quietly, desperately wanting to avoid the impending conversation.

“Y/n,” he says, his large hand reaching carefully for your arm. You move quickly, avoiding his grasp.

“I don’t want to talk,” you say and push past him, making it through the doorway. You speed walk down the hallway to the morgue office, thankful that it’s just a few doors down. Gojo begins to say something but before he can, you’re knocking on the door, shutting him up quickly.

Shoko opens the door only a moment after you’ve knocked, silently stepping aside to let you in once she sees it’s you. Her neutral expression breaks a bit when she sees who’s behind you.

“Gojo, wasn’t expecting to see you today,” she says, referring to the rough condition he was in last night.

“I’m full of surprises, aren’t I?” He chuckles. He looks at you as he says this and you feel your face grow warm. Shoko walks over to her desk and shuffles through the various items in search of something.

“How are you feeling? You haven’t had that many drinks in a long time,” She asks curiously.

“I feel great actually. Y/n is a pretty good caretaker,” he says, once again looking over at you. “She’s the reason I’m not hungover.”

Yep, you certainly were. Maybe you should’ve skipped the water and ibuprofen. But that was before what happened. Past you had no idea that future you would be cursing that decision.

“He wasn’t too much trouble was he? Gojo’s always annoying when he’s drunk.” Like he’s not annoying when he isn’t drunk.

“He was fine,” you say plainly, wanting to move on from the topic.

“Fine is one way to put it,” Gojo says, an obnoxiously flirty smirk on his face. What happened to the serious and borderline nervous Gojo you had just a moment ago? Bring him back please.

“Maybe I should’ve let Nanami take you when he’d offered,” you mutter. Shoko turns back around to you, confused by the comments being made.

“Is that really what you would’ve wanted?” Gojo asks.

“If it means we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, then yes.”

Shoko looks between the two of you, reading the looks on your faces and expertly deciphering that this was not a conversation she needed (or wanted) to be a part of.

“I’m not getting involved in this,” Shoko mutters as she collects her things and quickly leaves the room, abandoning you in this anxiety-inducing situation. “We can meet later, Y/n.”

“Ah! Wait, Shoko!” You call, but she ignores you and walks out the door. Well, this certainly isn’t what you wanted to happen. Now you had no excuse to leave and apparently didn’t have anyone to have your back. You knew Shoko saw your plea for help in your eyes and she actively ignored it. But, it is Shoko. She always avoids getting involved in things that don’t concern her.

The silence that follows Shoko’s leaving is so incredibly deafening and you hope the ground will open up beneath you. You debate leaving, but you know that Gojo will just follow you. There was no escaping it now. Dammit, and you were so close to getting out without speaking to him.

You cross your arms over your chest and lean against the desk, your eyes glued to the floor.

“Y/n,” Gojo speaks softly. You refuse to look at him. You can’t. You don’t know what will happen if you do. “Y/n.” He steps closer to you and you sink further into yourself, feeling your throat tighten. “Let me explai-”

“What did you mean?” You close your eyes, finding yourself talking before you can even comprehend the words leaving your mouth.

“What?” Gojo says, confused. You sigh, annoyed with yourself now for having said anything.

“Your text. You said it wasn’t what I thought it was. What did you mean?” Gojo looks at you. Well, you assume he’s looking at you. He could be looking at the wall behind you for all you knew.

“I…” Gojo starts but doesn’t finish. He sighs quietly and leans against the chair in front of you. He doesn’t attempt to speak again for a long moment and you begin to wonder if he even plans to. And you’re right, he doesn’t speak. But instead, his hand reaches for the dark blindfold hiding his eyes, and he pulls it down around his neck, his snow white hair falling into his face.

You tear your eyes away as soon as he does, not able to bear even the thought of looking at him directly in those blue irises. Luckily, you’re not tempted to as he keeps his head down, his hair shielding his eyes from your view.

“I remember everything from last night,” the man says finally. You feel your heart sink. You knew he remembered, but for some reason, hearing him say so only made your anxiety worsen. “You didn’t give me a chance to say goodbye last night,” he says with a mild, teasing tone, though it was made with minimal effort, the tension in the room making it hard to joke playfully.

Your arms tighten around you and your throat burns, your eyes remaining focused on everything but him.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect to be leaving in such a hurry either,” you say, risking your voice breaking into tears. Gojo chuckles.

“I thought you’d stay for a bit longer after the way you were kissing me,” He jokes, and this time it has his usual lightheartedness to it. Despite that, you feel your blood run hot through your body and for a moment you forget that you’re avoiding looking at him. Your eyes whip over to see him already looking at you, a smirk on his lips.

“Wha- you kissed me!” You whisper yell, afraid that someone outside may hear you. You can’t believe him. HE made a move on YOU, and yet he wants to talk about the way you were kissing HIM?

“Buuut, you kissed me back!” He says accusingly but airily. You close your mouth at this. He’s right, you did. And this is just what you were afraid of, him realizing that you kissing him back meant you actually enjoyed it if only a little. You couldn’t hide it.

“And I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry,” you say quietly. You turn your gaze away just in time to miss the way Gojo’s face twitches and his smile drops. Before you can’t stop yourself, you continue to speak, the coil in your throat snapping and the tears beginning to well in your eyes.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you back. I shouldn’t have let you kiss me to begin with. But please, I don’t want to hear what you have to say about it. I know you were drunk and it was a mistake just… Please, don’t tell me that.”

The silence that follows your statement is so quiet that you can hear Gojo’s uneven breaths alongside your own. You feel the urge to run, to walk out the doors and never turn back. To find a hole somewhere to bury yourself in, never to resurface.

“You think I made a mistake?” Gojo’s words barely reach your ears, his voice so soft you almost have to strain to hear it. He looks at you, completely dejected. “Even if I did feel that way, do you think I’d come here to mock you for it? Do you think I’d be that cruel?” The hurt in his voice is so obvious that you can feel it yourself.

“I… I don’t know.” Truthfully, you did know. You knew he wouldn’t do something like that. He may be annoying, but he’s not cruel. It was out of your own fear of the outcome that you were avoiding this conversation. But then, two words in his statement stand out to you.

Even if.

Meaning even if it was a mistake. Meaning he didn’t think it was?

The tears welling in your eyes begin to fall when you dare to look up at him, his own already on you. But you don’t look away this time.

“Would you have kissed me if you were sober?” You ask quietly. Gojo’s shoulders slump and his face grows longer at your words. He takes a cautious step towards you, testing to see if you’ll back away. And you don’t.

“Y/n, I didn’t kiss you because I was drunk,” he replies, his voice smooth as silk. He takes another step forward, this time reaching out a hand to place on your arm, and you don’t pull away.

“That’s what I meant when I said it wasn’t what you thought. I knew you figured it was an alcohol-influenced choice. And while the alcohol admittedly may have had something to do with it, that wasn’t why I did it.” Your vision blurs as you begin to cry, your tears feeling like rivers of fire as they flow down your cheeks.

“I did it because I wanted to, Y/n,” he admits. He lifts a hand to your face, wiping your tears as he strokes your cheek with his knuckles. “It wasn’t a mistake. It was a choice. And one I don’t regret.”

You close your eyes, not being able to see with them open anyway. His other hand moves from your arm to swipe at your tears, both hands now cupping your face tenderly.

“I don’t know what to say,” you mumble. You raise your hands to wrap your fingers around his wrists, your thumbs stroking over the back of his hands. You open your eyes, your vision clear enough to see him looking at you fondly, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His soft lips that, in the back of your mind, you’ve been thinking about all morning.

Your gaze must have lingered on his mouth for a moment too long as his smile widens. He comes closer to you, his head towering over yours and his hands guide your face to continue looking at him.

“You don’t have to say anything right now. But.” He leans his face to yours, his warm breath against your lips. “I would like to kiss you again. And I hope you won’t run away this time.” His voice lilts in that familiar, teasing tone and your heart twists.

“I won’t,” you say with a breathless laugh.

His large hands continue to hold your head as he moves forward, wasting no time in putting his lips against yours in a passionate but tender kiss.

And this time, you let yourself kiss him back.

©Cxtori 2024 please do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate. reblogs appreciated

#☆彡tori writes #꥟hey queuetie #i’m back bbs #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo angst #gojo x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo fluff

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felixitate · 8 months ago

Text

can't resist | lyb (m.)

pairing ⇢ felix x reader

summary ⇢ felix really only entered the bathroom to retrieve his camera but you're even more tempting than he anticipated.

rating & word count ⇢ 2.3k | 18+ (minors gtfo)

genre/au ⇢ smut, fluff, idk what they are 🤭

warnings/content ⇢ teasing, cursing, petnames, groping, hair pulling, breast play, unprotected sex, creampie, mirror shenanigans, the camera and the rings are involved ig

theme song ⇢ the boy is mine - ariana grande

a/n: yeah the title speaks for itself on what i’m still going through rn lmao you see his hold on me? it's fucking insane like how dare he fr i have not recovered from those ig stories fawk and i don't think i'll ever be

“take photos with me?”

you ask Felix fondly when he is about to open the door. it made him pause a bit, weighing how much time he had since you could take a while with this.

he’s not really in a hurry since the others are still getting their makeup done. good thing that he luckily went first so he’s got time to look for his special camera that he possibly misplaced earlier.

the other boys said no when Felix asked if they'd seen it but he's sure he left it somewhere so that only leaves you. he knew that you’d stay in the spare room to get ready and avoid suspicion from other gala goers so he wasn’t that surprised where he found it.

he entered the bathroom where he found you standing in front of the vanity while taking selfies from your phone. then you’re scrolling to look through the selcas you took so he kinda expected that you’d use his camera already but you haven't.

that's one of the reasons why you take the longest in the bathroom anyway, having the habit of taking pictures when the lighting's to your liking.

so why haven't you?

maybe you want him to take pictures of you instead which he'd happily do. smiling brightly at you, Felix nods as he closes the door. he really can't say no to you and he never has unless he had to. how could he even right now when your eyes sparkle at him like that?

there would be a final fitting later but he couldn’t resist your request.

a smile graces your lips when you see Felix approaching your form, standing behind you so you start taking pics of you both. your ivory-coloured bathrobe contrasts his so it’s a perfect combination. well, couple trends are usually matching but you like it this way. he matches your poses the way you instructed.

you feel Felix's right hand on your hip, holding you like he's done many times before. his other hand's still holding the camera that you've been focusing your attention on. you wanted to use it earlier but it would be better with Felix so you decided not to.

bringing your attention back to him, it's then you notice through the mirror how his eyes have been lingering around your sternum.

"lix?"

"hmm?" he answers, his gold-ringed hand absentmindedly squeezing your hip. you smile at how cute he is.

"look at the camera baby" a small chuckle leaves you when get flustered at being caught ogling you.

right the camera. what the hell is he thinking? you took a picture from your phone and Felix leaned in for a final pose. he thought that was it but you suddenly took his camera from his hand, placing it on the glass table beside the sink.

“we haven’t taken photos on your camera yet” you drawl, eyes looking so fascinated while looking at the camera.

“oh yeah, do you want it now?”

his hand reaches for the camera but you stop him, taking his hand instead in yours so he ends up putting his arm around you while you snap another picture.

you lean back and nuzzle Felix, allowing you to feel more of his body against yours. he freezes momentarily and the small gasp that escaped from him didn't miss your ears so you leaned back further, your ass brushing against something hard.

oh.

your plan’s been doing well it seems.

"y/n, fuck, don’t do this to me please"

he knows what you're on now, his breath increasing the more you grind back on him like you didn't hear what he just said.

"hmm?" you faux your concern, making it look like you're just trying to find a good position while still clutching your phone but of course, Felix knows better.

"not right now baby" he pleads again as his body betrays him. it didn't help that your bathrobe seems to be loosening more now too, allowing him to look at your perky nipples that are peeking from it.

you place your phone by the mirror while Felix's distracted by the sight of your boobs. you pondered if you wanna record or not but relented, sparing him with your cheeky antics this time.

pulling down his veiny hand that you're still holding, you cup your left breast with it and he squeezes out of instinct, causing you to moan shamelessly in return.

his other hand travels from your hip upwards after, pulling the robe sideways, revealing your other breast to his hungry eyes. you watch him lean in to kiss your neck from the mirror's reflection then remember that he’s got makeup on.

“lix your makeup..”

his lips were almost touching the skin when your reminder stopped him. he curses internally out of frustration because you're right. there might not be enough time later to redo his makeup so he really gotta be mindful of it.

you felt Felix straighten up, shaking his head a bit to focus. you were about to tease him but both his ringed hands are now on your bare tits, kneading and squeezing knowing how much you like the sensation of those cold rings against your warm skin.

"wish i could fuck you baby" he whispers needily, voice going deeper than it already is as he grinds his dick more against your covered ass.

"what's stopping you?" you whine, clearly so stimulated with all the stimulation from his touches and the sound of his voice.

well, nothing really is so Felix obliges and turns you around to face him. his beauty knocks your breath once again, his blonde hair in a new braid complimenting a lot with the structure of his ethereal face.

"you're so pretty you know.."

a shy smile breaks out on Felix's face at your remark, more so when your hand reaches out to tuck a few strands of his hair by his ear. you scan his face until you catch his eyes, immediately seeing the lust swimming in them with his pupils already dilating.

you prop your body by the sink and shrug off your bathrobe, causing Felix's eyes to widen as he scans your naked body.

“you’re much prettier love”

he wants to kiss you so bad, shower every part of your body with his lips but he can't. he's thinking if he should just face any scolding later since you can probably help him in the department.

you smile warmly at Felix, heart fluttering at his words but you've noticed how much he’s been holding back so you begin caressing his bare chest to return his attention to you.

teasing him crosses your mind cause you love seeing him flustered, looking so cute with the pink dusting over those lovely freckles that you cherish.

"should i mark you here lixie?" you start and the look on his face changes, a slight panic emerging in his eyes at your suggestion.

the gala’s an important event for him and his friends and even if you happen to leave a mark somewhere where it’s covered under his fit later, he can’t risk other people seeing it by accident and possibly getting the both of you in trouble.

“kidding baby” you left a tender kiss on his soft skin to ease him, reeling at his deep sigh of relief from it.

you can’t possibly do that to Felix no matter how much you want to. besides, you’d have more time after anyway so you’ll just make sure to make him feel better right now to make up for all the teasing that you've put him through.

your hands continue to roam around his toned chest, fingers brushing his nipples but you instead play with the pendant of his necklace. he hums deeply, pushing his body closer to yours so you won’t forget how hard he’s been.

poor baby.

he sighs in relief once you finally untie his navy blue bathrobe, the rest of his body naked body now exposed to your eyes. you know he's been dying to fuck you so your hands continue their journey from his chest down to his abs until they reach his swollen dick.

it’s leaking so much already and you want him in your mouth but you don’t have much time.

“help me love? it’s your fault anyways” he chuckles deeply but the laughter leaves him once you grabbed his thick cock, pumping it at once to spread his precum around.

“of course baby, i’d love to” you pepper Felix’s bare chest with light kisses, basking on his deep moans that are increasing in volume the faster you stroke his cock.

his hands hurriedly untie your bathrobe, parting your legs so he can finally fuck you. he's so close already and hasn't pleasured you much yet, something that he hates each time you have sex because of his lack of self-control.

after Felix tests your pussy with his thick finger, he positions his cock at your entrance and pushes in right away.

soft moans emit from you both once he fills you to the brim. you love the stretch of being full from Felix but you also know how it affects him a lot, his eyes shutting at how wet and warm you feel around him.

he didn't mean to roll his hips before making sure that you've adjusted to his cock but he just couldn't stop. you didn't try either, closing your legs around his waist instead, your hand holding onto his arms for balance.

"b-baby, i won't last long" he breathes out, struggling to contain himself as he continues to fuck you. he opens his eyes and now they’re fixed on your face, looking so tranced as he leans in again.

but before he gave in to kissing you, your hand was quick to pull his long hair.

"no baby.." you gasp out as you do which Felix responds to with a deep whine. he's already so immersed in fucking you, ringed hands gripping your waist so hard that you're not gonna be surprised if you find any bruises there later.

he groans in protest and you tut, though a sharp thrust coaxes a choked moan from you when Felix finds that soft spot and focuses his aim there.

“don’t wanna..ruin..your makeup..” it's light really, too subtle that you doubt anyone would even notice if it’s smudged but you don't want the both of you to get scolded later.

you're still in your right mind to stay grounded but your brain's getting cloudier when Felix continues to hit it once your back starts arching.

"fuck i hate this" he groans in frustration that he can't even kiss you. at least he'd been doing a great job so far, you look so pretty moaning his name with your hands clawing at his arms because the pleasure's becoming too much.

but Felix knows that you're also determined to not keep him here any longer.

“later hmm? want you to cum right now okay?” he shakes his head so cutely, doe eyes staring at you that your resolve almost broke.

“you first” he whines and fastens his pace, focusing on getting himself together to make sure you cum before him. you're a lot better than him when it comes to self-control but he's trying, he's been trying so hard even with your constant clenching around his cock.

his hand leaves your back to rub your clit and it took a few circles before you unravel before him. he follows your suit not long after, filling you with so much cum. your legs pull his body closer and you hug him as you both ride out your high.

smiling against Felix's bare chest, your hands are nonstop caressing his body and he honestly finds it cute. he’s smiling down at you as he runs his hand through your back to calm you down.

after a few seconds, he grabs the wet wipes from the glass table to wipe his hand before taking his special camera to take a picture of you both. your naked body against his looks amazing from this angle, even more so when you turned back to the mirror with a sly grin while laying your head against his chest.

you're both still breathless when someone's suddenly banging against the door, breaking the silence between your and Felix's exchanged breaths.

he pulls out of you quickly, causing you to whine at the lost feeling. but you didn’t get to process much when he quickly handed you a few wet wipes so you could clean up and face whoever was behind the door.

"open the door you two" the voice belonging to Chan echoes and it's strangely calm so you and Felix exchange a panicked look before hastily putting your bathrobes back on.

the door opens and a very stressed-looking Chan is looking at you both in defeat. he’s dressed already so you even feel worse for keeping Felix too long.

“come on, let's redo his makeup”

he breaks the silence when no one's saying a word. he does kinda sound stressed but you've done your best to not smudge anything on Felix's face so everything should be fine.

"no need oppa, look at him, still so flawless” you confidently smile at him and Felix just shies away both from your lovely compliment and embarrassment at Chan scrutinizing him.

the latter looks skeptical until he surveys Felix’s face before sighing in relief to find that his little brother's face looks untouched, with Felix just looking like he’s sweating normally so he didn't have to explain anything to the makeup artist.

your fingers are tracing Felix's embroidered name on his bathrobe when Chan shifts his eyes on you. he gives you a pointed look and now Felix is the one smiling in mischief.

"we’ll see you later princess"

e/n: this turned softer than i intended oml i just love him sm. i might also do another fic based on this met look of his, something of him being a fairie prince + the theme of the gala since the whole thing pissed me off sm lmao

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mozzzz05 · 5 months ago

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I hate to bitch but… I’m going to:

There was just? So much wrong this season and not even because I wasn’t a fan of the ending - in fact, I quite liked that they were 8 little marigolds together - but the rest of it!?

There’s at least three plot lines that added fuck all to the story - and I’m all for fluffing out the stories/characters, love me a filler episode - but not only did we not have time for a filler episode with 4 less episodes than usual those plot lines added nothing to the characters or the story or anything really.

Klaus getting kidnapped (again), no one noticing (again) - getting possessed & having sex, getting buried alive (again, if ykyk) apart from Alison going to save him - what did it add? - I love Klaus he’s literally my favourite character, I always want more Klaus but it kind of feels like they didn’t know what to do with him? - “let’s make him relapse and do some crazy stuff, for shits and giggles!”

Diego & Luther going to the CIA - this is the one I see the most sense in of course, but apart from making Diego realise that he shouldn’t take Lila and his kids for granted and announcing that the CIA guy was part of the whole Jean & Gene cult thing (and getting to see David Castañeda’s abs (despite supposedly having a Dad Bod now?)) it kind of went on too long? It felt like it was slightly misplaced? Idk

And of course, how could it go unmentioned - the Five/Lila romance? whAT THE FUCK!??? Like it’s creepy both ways bcos Ritu Arya is 15 years older than Aidan Gallagher - freshly legal - and because Five is nearly 70 at that point? And that’s without even mentioning the fact that, oh yeah - Lila’s married to his BROTHER? But if you took it out - what would change? Genuinely? That Lila will always choose her family? Choose Diego? Tbh she could easily come to that conclusion without any romance, she clearly longed to go back more than Five did (who btw, abandoned his family after spending his entire life trying to save them - WHAT?)

The only one making any progress was Viktor

And so many things left unexplained- why did Ray leave Alison? What happened to Dave? (Guessing he’s long dead now but we still don’t know if Klaus’ s2 plan had any effect & the only hint of him we got this season was the dog tags (more than last season at least)) Why is Reggie a fucking alien? How did he get to earth??

I just feel so unpleasantly underwhelmed for a show that has meant so much to me the past few years, for an ending that was mildly disappointing but not as much as the 4 episodes that came before it.

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yujinnieswifeu · 7 months ago

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Backstage Encounter

Pairings: female reader x g!p yujin

Warnings: smut, yujin has a dick, cum in pussay (idk what you all call it over here), nsfw, minors dni please

a/n: was impatient and just wanted to release what i wrote but it’s all just for fun, my first time posting here since wattpad so might be bad as i haven’t written in awhile, please lmk how it is and hope you readers enjoy this oneshot!

Ever since you laid eyes on her, you knew you would be hooked. It was as if she had put a love spell on you, which if she did, you would most willingly accept.

“Everyone make some noise!” There she was, Ahn Yujin as she shouted into the microphone, the crowd around you went crazy as they shouted at the top of their lung, but there was you, just staring at the figure on stage as she started to dance to the part from one of their hit songs.

You were mesmerised to say the least, as she danced on the stage, she had a certain aura to her, one that would make other idols envy, and one that would make fans go wild for her.

Then, as if god had blessed you with immense luck, she was looking at you. It was not one that lasted less than a second, rather, it felt to went on forever as time stood still around you. You could feel your heart beating against your ear drum as she gave you a small smile, one that made your face feel hot to the touch, and you smiled back.

When it came to their last song, the group came down the stage as they walked past multiple fans. You were lucky this time, as you stood at the barricade, on the lookout for that one person that always catches your attention.

Soon enough, she came over to your end. This time, she had a goofy smile on her face as she waved to the crowd, and did some poses, everyone was screaming her name while there you were, all nervous.

Yujin looked through the crowd, her eyes scanning around for the signs of the girl she had seen earlier, one that stood out among the crowd. As soon as she locked eyes on yours, she knew she had to have you. She bit her lips, before telling the security something before she went back up the stage.

You were shocked to say the least. Not only did she locked eyes with you once, but twice? That must have been your last remaining luck as your heart continued to beat in your eardrums.

Soon, the concert ended, and everyone was making their way home. As you looked through your bag one last time just to make sure that you had not misplaced any of your belongings, someone came to tap on your shoulder.

You flinched a little, before looking up to see a security guard standing over the barricade. Your heart raced, not knowing what was going on as you thought if you had broken any rules for them to come up to you.

“Hi miss, Yujin would like to see you backstage if that is fine with you?” The guard said as instructed, his eyes looking over yours for approval and all you could do was blink, the words not processing in your mind as all you could think of was your favourite idol wanting to meet you face to face.

“Ma’am?” It must have been awhile you had stood there frozen like a statue as you blinked your eyes a few times.

“O-oh sorry, yes that would be fine by me too!” You had said a little too excitedly now, your voice an octave higher than normal. He then carried the barricade that was in front of you to the side and ushered you backstage.

With each step nearer to one of the rooms that Yujin might be in, it had you feeling even more nervous as you scanned your surroundings, biting your bottom lip nervously.

“Here we are, you can go in anytime.” He gave you a small smile, and you smiled back before he walked away, going back to his other duties.

With a racing heart, you knocked on the door, hearing her voice through the door as she asked whoever that was standing outside to come in.

Taking a deep breath, your hand that was on the doorknob twisted as you stepped in, closing the door behind you before turning to look at Yujin. Your mind was a mess right now and so was your heart, the sound ringing through your ears as you continue to stare at her.

“Hey, so i see you made it.” Yujin smiled, she came closer to you as all you could do was stand at the closed door, frozen like a statue as you tried to calm yourself down.

“H-hi, this just seems so surreal.” You had said, blinking your eyes a little more than usual as she stood in front of you now, playing with your fingers.

She looked at your hands, realising you were nervous as she held your hands in place, looking at you with a small smile. “It must be, you seem a little nervous now.” You could feel your breath caught in your throat as she took a step forward, and you took a step back, your back hitting against the door as you could only let out a whimper.

As soon as she heard the sound that escaped your lips, she knew she was right about you. “I knew it, you like this don’t you?” She came closer to your face, using her free hand to lift your chin, making you look up at her, her eyes searching yours for any signs of discomfort, but all she could see was the need in your eyes.

You did not know how this escalated, but what she was doing was making you so turned on. It was not the first time you had dreamed of such a scenario, but having it come true was something you never expected.

“P-please.” You stutter pathetically, she grinned a little, her hand that was around your hand snakes down your inner thigh as she searched your eyes for any signs of discomfort, which was met with hooded eyes.

Yujin then brushed her fingers over your clothed area, and your breath hitches in your throat again, a whimper escapes your lips once more.

Yujin leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. “Please what?” She whispered, making a shiver run down your spine.

“Please mommy, need more.” You whimper, moving your hips slightly so her fingers would rub over the area you yearned from her the most.

She sensed this, and placed the hand that was over your clothed area over your hips to stop your movements, her other hand going to lock the door behind of you.

A whine erupts from your throat as she stops your movements, her eyes dark as she stares into yours.

“You are going to be quiet, if not i will stop everything, understood?” You nod your head almost immediately, and she attached her lips against yours hungrily.

You moaned softly into the kiss, her hands going over the back of your dress as she unzips your blue dress. You let her, doing the same.

Once your clothes was off and all that remained was your bra and panties, she pulled you over the couch, asking you to lie down which you did and she was on you immediately.

Her fingers sliding behind your back to unclasp the bra as she grind her hips against yours, your breath hitching when you felt something hard hitting against your clothed pussy.

“M-mommy is th-hat?” You said breathlessly, feeling her humming against your skin as she licked a strip along your neck, her eyes hovers over yours with a sickening smirk.

“Yes it is baby, you like it don’t you?” She whispers against your lips, grinding against your clothed pussy as your panties were now drenched.

You let out a small moan, nodding your head, as you look at her with need.

“Words baby.” Her hand now over your neck as you gasp slightly, struggling to breathe. “Y-yes mommy.”

She hummed in response, giving you a small peck on your lips as she pull away. “On your knees now.” Immediately, you got on your knees, looking at her clothed area as she undo her zipper, pulling her pants down which unfortunately you did not have enough time to remove earlier.

You helped her, getting rid of her pants as you stared at her hard on, and you were sure you were drooling. She pushed her boxers down, as her girthy and hard cock sprung out, smacking against her pelvis.

“Mommy, can i? Please?” You looked up at her, with begging eyes as she smirked. As much as she wants to tease you, she was feeling the pain from how turned on she had been.

“Yes baby, show me what a slut you are for my dick.” Her voice was deep and raspy, making you even more turned on as your tongue darts out against her red and swollen tip experimentally, tasting her pre-cum over your tongue as you wrap your lips over her tip more boldly, your eyes staring at her blissed out expression.

You start to go more deeper, sucking when you pull slightly away at her tip and down again, creating a rhythm. The action causes her to groan, bitting her bottom lip instead as she grips on your head to stop you from moving, thrusting herself inside of your mouth.

Your hands grip against her thighs as you start to choke on her cock, her moves not letting up as she continue her rough movements, fucking your mouth like a toy. “You like that slut? Ever since i saw you earlier ahh— i knew you would love my cock around that pretty mouth of yours.”

You could only choke and whimper at her words, the aching feeling between your thighs only intensifying as you close your thighs together, trying to find some sort of friction as she continues to fuck your mouth.

With a final thrust of her hips, she shoots her load into your mouth, her hand firmly holding your head in place as she forced you to take every last drop from her cock.

Once she made sure you had swallowed her cum, she grip your hair, pulling your head back as she stared into your now teary eyes, which only made her hard again. Her eyes still hooded pulls you over the couch, straddling you.

Her fingers now played at the hem of your panties, staying there as she teases you even more. “M-mommy please, no more teasing.” You whimper, the feeling between your legs now sticky and drenched as she hooks her fingers at the edge of your panties, bringing it down slowly, looking at how wet you are for her.

The sight of you so drenched for her made her breath hitch a little, her dick throbbing painfully at the sight. “Fuck baby, you’re so wet for me.” Her tone comes out raspy, now taking your panties off as she takes a swipe of your wetness over her hand, making you whine out.

“Mommy no, that’s gross.” You cover your eyes, feeling your cheeks turn red as you look elsewhere, but felt a strong grip at your wrist as she pins your hands over your head.

You whimper out, and she forces you to look her way, her fingers coated with your wetness nears your lips as she instructs you to open your mouth for her. “Open your mouth baby.” She says, her tone making a shiver run down your spine as you part your lips, feeling her put the fingers coated with your arousal against your tongue as she starts to thrust her fingers in your mouth.

“Good girl, so good for mommy. You deserve a reward hm?” Her voice lower than usual as she remove her fingers from your lips, sliding them down across your stomach to your folds as she continues to tease you.

Your breath hitches, whimpering as you try to move your hips so that her fingers would touch where you wanted her most, but she pulled back instead, her grip on your wrists tightening.

“Tell me what you want baby.” She whispers against your ear instead, her teeth nipping against your earlobe as you whimper, still breathing heavily as your hips thrust upwards slightly over nothing.

“I want to feel you inside me please mommy? Want to be your cum dump.” You say desperately, wanting nothing more than for her to ruin you now.

At your words, she let out a growl, before plunging into your greedy hole without any warning, her hand over your mouth as you let out a muffled scream.

She starts to move at a merciless pace, her hand moving to grope at your tits instead as she kisses you deeply. You moan into the kiss, and she takes the opportunity to stick her tongue between your lips, exploring every inch of your mouth.

You start to moan even louder, her free hand wrapping over your neck as she strangles you a little, causing you to clench around her cock even more as she groan against your lips.

“Fucking slut, you loved that didn’t you? You like it when i fuck you rough?” She says through pants, her movements becoming more erratic as she nears her high, her hands over your thighs as she puts you in a mating press instead, thrusting her cock even harder and deeper as her tip hits your cervix each time she thrust in, making you cover your mouth as you moan even louder.

“Gonna breed this pretty pussy, you like that don’t you? Wanna be my cum dump?” She talks dirty to you, making you clench around her cock again as you feel yourself nearing the edge, begging her to let you cum.

“Cum for mommy slut.” She says breathlessly, her lips over yours to silence your moans as you come undone with her, her thrust slowing down as she paints your walls white, a whimper falling past your lips.

After a while, she pulled away from you, giving you a small kiss over your cheek. “Hi.” She mutters, looking at your fucked out face as she bites her bottom lip, plugging her cock out of your hole before she losses control of herself again.

“Hey.” You giggle slightly, looking at her as she dresses herself back into her outfit, before helping you look like how you were before all this had happened.

“I forgot to ask your name pretty.” She giggles softly, passing you her phone instead and you got the message, a smile plastered on your face as you put your name in, along with your number.

#ahn yujin smut #ahn yujin #yujin smut #ive yujin #ive smut

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vatelixx · 13 hours ago

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There will be no soft epilogue,

Post-prison (traumatised) Spencer Reid x afab!BAU reader

More angst than smut (i hurt myself in the process, we all suffer), but there’s still copious amounts of both. Explorations of Spencer’s trauma & his anger in relation. Autistic Spencer is a given, even if it’s not touched upon explicitly (its indisputably canon to me).

Warnings: heavy sub spencer (confirmed me classic), corruption kink (idk how i managed to sneak that one in here), possessive undertones (eg, mentions of owning), praise kink, choking, Spencer is so in love it might actually be fatal, lots (lots) of begging, Reader is mean but low-key submissive to him in an emotional sense. They’re both damaged, but its okay, bcos they’ve romanticised it.

w.c: 4.9k

a/n: sorry, my hiatus went on for longer than i initially expected. i was just burnt out and evil. there wasn’t supposed to be smut in this, but i’m clearly the biggest whore around.

────────────

Spencer used to think he knew everything. That there wasn’t a piece of information too obscure, too intricate that his brain, his renowned, academically awarded, brain couldn’t comprehend. Maybe he was naive, or maybe, maybe there was less fault in his logic, and more fault in his decisions. Decisions that tarnished his youth, that slowly tore away at him, year by year, until there was nothing left of him to be remembered by.

Everything hurts tonight. And sure, he’s angry again, angry at himself, at what he experienced, the weight of the job that stifled the soft parts of him, and the weight of who he is now. He can’t look in the mirror anymore, stare back at the waning reflection, the reflection that is supposed to be him. But it’s not. God, it’s not.

He wants to be whole again, untainted, free from resent, the BAU’s fresh meat. Wide-eyed and credulous, trusting himself to always be clean. He wants to go back to the time when his life orbited around chess, halloween, that late hour of night when he could bury himself in academia. When everything felt untouchable and timeless.

Your concern is justifiable. The BAU’s concern is justifiable. And yet, it’s not enough, a string of ‘im here for you’ texts aren’t going to ease the weight of his trauma, nor will any form of pity.

When you show up at his apartment, it’s late. 3AM. There’s no legitimate excuse for your impromptu reason, no vindicable reason that could explain why you’re here. It’s sick to say you ‘had a feeling’, to reduce this to gut instincts, maybe you can get away with that on the field, but not here.

He gave you a key last year. It’s so morbid, to think back. To not look forward. When the door clicks open, there’s misplaced relief; at least he wasn’t cruel enough to change the locks. Even though he is admittedly cruel enough to refuse your calls.

“It’s me,” you say, deftly avoiding a stack of books. “Not an intruder. Well, technically, in a court of law, I could probably be tried as one.” you huff out a sigh, “But that’s unnecessary information. Hopefully.”

Spencer’s head has been pounding for hours, or maybe days, its hard to distinguish the weeks lately. Time is a construct that he can no longer keep accurate track of.

“An intruder wouldn’t announce themselves,” he retorts. Sat on the floor, with his back pressed against the couch, he feels heavy. Sinking. Like there is a part of him that is tethered to the ground, tugging and tugging him lower with every breath.

You remove your jacket, brown leather, scuffed with age and use, draping it over his couch.

He doesn’t look at you, nor the mess that has fermented his apartment. Files and novels and the collection of magazines (monthly subscriptions to Space News, Smithsonian, Science I am) are scattered everywhere, piled in mounds.

“I’m assuming you came to check up on me?” he continues, dropping his face to his knees. “You could’ve saved yourself the drive.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, stumbling into some books, and only because he would once keel over and die at their current mistreatment, you take additional care to place them on a… moderately uncluttered surface. “I’m hiring you a cleaner for christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to me,” he mumbles, raising his head to watch you now — tracking your movements carefully, observing the way you interact with his possessions. Your presence reminds him of before, late nights and movie marathons. His exasperation when you’d ask ‘Why are they fighting? It’s been 10 minutes…’ in relation to Star Wars. It was so domestic, warm. Something real he could keep.

Back when you’d stumble into his apartment at any time of night, and he’d take your abrupt appearance with a grain of salt. When you would waste hours speaking over the TV, providing lazy commentary, profiling characters and his ceaseless string of facts.

He wants to go back to those nights, take me back, he begs. Because he’s still not sure how to exist alongside you anymore.

“Good luck finding a cleaner who will step foot in here.” he continues.

You move to sit down beside him. One knee pulled to your chest, the other outstretched, just narrowly avoiding a chair that has taken a substantial fall.

You laugh. It feels empty. “I’d probably have to threaten them.“

“Threatening minimum wage workers? You’re a good addition to the FBI.”

“Shut up.” you retort, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling. Everything is heavy tonight. It’s so late that the tangible feels intangible, shadows obscuring the area, diminishing the dim-light that filters through the window.

When you look at him again, he feels like breaking.

Because of course, of course, he’s hyper-aware of your stare. Has been since the moment you walked into his apartment. He’s not oblivious to your observation, scrutinisation, the way you look at him like he might break under your gaze. Or maybe he’s broken already, and you’re just here to mourn over the pieces of everything he once was.

He stares too; following the sharp outline of your profile, the way the shadows play over your features.

He thinks you still look terrifying.

Maybe that’s the worst part. He always loved you. It’s not like it was an immediate reckoning. Something blunt and fast, serrated like the shiv that penetrated his leg in prison. It was slow-burning, born from years of close contact.

It didn’t just transpire one day. You had to work for it, and he had to work harder to deny it.

There’s another attempt at conversation, on your part, and then silence, on his part. It’s stifling, uncharacteristic— no, not uncharacteristic. This is an element to you now. Awkward, strained pauses. Nothing to fill the space, nothing to ease the prevalent emptiness that centres around your dynamic.

It hurts. you’ll both take the pain. Bare it the way you were taught to.

“I came here for me,” your voice interrupts that uneasy silence, “I’m not trying to stage a bullshit intervention, or… or spend the next few hours following you around like a shadow, just in case you do something self-destructive.” You shift, turning your body to face him now. “This is for me. Okay?”

“For you?” He repeats, and the words sound bitter, cynical, tired. No fight left. “How selfish of me to think you were here for my benefit.”

It’s not like you can survive by being soft-hearted. Not in the BAU. You watched aspects of him die, or at least suffocate, year after year, case after case, when the weight of the job caught up to the fragility of his boyish demeanour. He used to sit, cross-legged on tables, rambling to you about books, constellations, the fact that the milky way will inevitably collide with the andromeda galaxy.

Now, he sits on the floor and hurts you.

“I’m always here for your benefit. It’s pretty pathetic. I can only call, or text, so many times before I get the silent message to just fuck off.”

Spencer doesn’t think he’ll be content until he digs his nails into everything he once loved, claw at the mess until it destroys. Destroys, the way he was destroyed. But he can’t find anger when it comes to you.

Parts of him, the old him, will always haunt, he supposes.

“I don’t think you’ve ever received the message to.. ‘fuck off’. Not from me. Just… maybe i’m not the person you knew before.” he looks down at his calloused hands. He hates meeting your gaze. Hates being the cause of your hurt. He feels like heavy baggage. “I— just, maybe, this version isn’t compatible with you anymore.”

I don’t want you to see me like this, he thinks.

“How can you say that?” you scoff. “How can you say that when you haven’t even tried?” The idea that the him now is so disparate to the him before?

Bull-shit.

“Okay Spencer,” you stand up, retrieving your jacket. “Why don’t you pick up the phone and actually, maybe, I don’t know? Call me? When you think we might be ‘compatible’ again? Because it seems like you’re too busy in your own self-deprecating mind-fuck to realise the person I loved is still there. That i’m still here. Even now.”

It hurts when you talk like that. Sharp, assertive, logical. And then he remembers that’s your profession, your job. Because you’re trained to be this way. Trained to break down and analyse, to pick apart the intricacies of the human mind.

He wishes he could be who you want him to be.

He wishes he could go back.

“So you don’t love me anymore?” he asks, standing up to watch you leave. He’s looking at you with these god-awful doe-eyes, like he might crumble under your response.

You could deal with the sharp-cutting words, the ugly parts he’s unsheathed in the aftermath of prison, if there was any indication he still cared. You were built to withstand affliction, it’s written into the BAU’s job description. But this? This feels like retribution.

He’s standing there, so close, so close that you could reach out and touch. Feel warm skin beneath your palms. Bridge the gap, extend an olive branch.

But there’s fear in being rejected. Because if he turns away, recoils from the contact, everything remaining will fall apart.

So, you lean against the closed door. You’re not sure why you came here now, it’s clear you miss something that you can never have back. “It’s hard to love someone who doesn’t even want me around.”

You say it, and he thinks maybe he hates you. He hates how well you can read him, how easily you can say exactly what he needs, when he isn’t ready to hear it.

But he’s just…. so angry, indignant about the hurt he experienced, the pain that was inflicted on him. He was soft and no one protected him, no one tried to preserve that virtue, to take measures, any form of initiative, to prevent him from growing thorns.

He’s dedicated his purpose to helping others. Sacrificing time he’ll never gain back. Putting his own life on hold. And yet, no one could do the same for him.

Instead they, you, the BAU, everyone inbetween, look at him like he’s a martyr. Just another failed creation. Something to sit in the ‘almosts,’ wasted potential, failed hope. He’s never understood Elle more than he does now.

He doesn’t know how to be. “You never loved me the way I love you.”

Faithful to a fault, his devotion has always been an open wound. Something messy and desperate, begging please, please notice me.

“You were always there,” he continues, “you were always present. You cared, you were empathetic, you checked in. But you never loved me the way i love you.”

He can’t hate someone for not loving him back. Sometimes, he wishes it was morally acceptable. To imagine your face as he pulls the trigger, to think of you during target practice. He’s wasted so many years, wishing you saw him as something more than a friend.

Oh, and you’ve been such a good friend. That’s what makes it sick. His best friend, the type that belongs fictionalised, too idealistic for real life. He finally had something good, and he tainted it with his own greedy heart.

You don’t understand. Until you do.

Sometimes its sick to think about him, Spencer Reid. The prodigy who inadvertently stumbled into the grasps of the BAU. Who immolated himself again and again for the ‘greater good’, for the sake of strangers, victims, people he’ll never know.

You watched self-sacrifice become self-annihilation.

Now, you watch the aftermath of it stand before you. “Who says I didn’t? Who says I don’t?” you respond exasperatedly; he’s always been so obstinate, so set in the notion that he will never obtain, keep anything good. The deprivation is sabotaging, lethal.

And how dare you? How dare you say this to him now? How dare you present a slither, just a minuscule indication that years of aching want might’ve been required. A year ago, he would’ve bled himself dry for this confession. Now, he can only mourn for his younger self. The one that didn’t realise he’d get a chance at everything. Because you, for better sake of the word, are everything.

He’s tired. He’s been tired since he was fifteen, no, younger… since he was ten, when he came to the bleak realisation that his whole life would be dedicated to academics, the pursuit of intellectual prowess. He was never a person to people. He was a brain, a textbook, a source of information. Some sort of tool to be wielded until use was no longer required.

And sure, all of it was fine, he could take take take it all, when he was younger. When he was naive, believing that he would only be valuable for his brain, that he could never have more, so he’d have to settle on scraps.

“Don’t— Don’t lie to me. Don’t spare my feelings, just.. because i’m like this. I can take care of myself.”

He wants you to be honest. He wants you to be blunt and harsh and cruel. He can take the hit, the rejection, if it’s the truth. He doesn’t want you to placate him. To make him feel better, to build more lies in order to soften the burn. He can take it. Just like he’s taken everything else over the years.

“No.” you respond.

“No?” he repeats, letting out a sharp breath. “No. Right— because that makes sense.”

“Spencer.” he looks drained when his features soften. “Shut the fuck up and come here.”

He complies, it’s actually embarrassing, obscene, downright pitying, how fast he complies. Just like he did, years prior. When your arms snake around his waist, when you’re touching him after months of abstinence, he melts.

Im sorry, Im sorry, he keeps repeating. Voice muffled, face buried deep into the crook of your neck. He’s not sure why he’s apologising. Maybe for the lack of communication, for being so distant, or maybe it’s just because he’s such a heavy weight to bare, and you’re still here. Still holding him up, taking the strain, pushing through the truculence. He just wants you to love him still.

Your hand cards through dishevelled hair, curls messy and unkept. “Stop apologising. I hate fighting with you.”

“You’ll stay right?” he asks when you draw back. He’s cupping your face now, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. It’s inherently desperate, the way he looks at you. Creased features, parted lips. “Just, like… forever?”

You want to laugh, “No big deal, huh?”

“Just a small insignificant question, really.” there’s a smile. Something contained, forced, an attempt at finding humour in the bleak.

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s—“ he stutters, “That’s all you have to say? I ask you to stay forever, and you just say yes.”

“Does that come as a surprise?”

“Yes.”

When you kiss him, there’s ache. Because he’s so weak for you, ruined in every sense. It’s always been this way, ever since he met you. There can be no one else, when you’re around. There can be no one else, point blank period. Moving on has never been an option when you still breathe. His palm cups your jaw, tilting your lips to meet him again, and he wants.

There was always a principle. A set law to never show his want. But he does now.

The kiss deepens, you’ve both grown callouses from the job. He wonders how rough you might be, underneath the pretence of apathy. Stumbling together, his hand grips the back of your head as he tries to swallow your mouth. To find the root of himself, everything that has kept him alive. You, you have kept him alive.

“Don’t go.” he begs. He’s not afraid to plead for it. He’ll reduce himself to humiliation, if it’ll reward him another hour. “Please— please just stay.”

“I already said I would,” you tug him closer, closer in a way that has him sighing.

Later, when you’re guiding him to bed, he lets you undress him, because he doesn’t want to see the bruises. He doesn’t want to see the evidence of what he endured, the lasting remnants.

Instead, he watches you.

Your hands. Your face. The slope of your nose, the way your eyes glance at his body. He tries not to think about what you must see.

He focuses on how your fingertips feel tracing his hips, instead. Focuses on your words, “Do you really think I’d still be here if I didn’t love you? If I wasn’t in love with you…”

This is the confession he’s waited lifetimes for. Excuse his skepticism. “I don’t know. Maybe you just have a saviour complex.”

His body is marred. Mauve bruises lining tired skin. The colour darkens around the hollow bone of his hip. You’ve both endured injuries before, taken the worst of the job. He drags his fingers over your chest, lingering around section 8 of your upper anatomy, a green area to the traditional silhouette target. A few inches below, the bullet you took last year would’ve been fatal.

Spencer was the one to find you. In an abandoned warehouse, applying pressure to the wound. Ripped sleeves, cloth stained crimson, attempting to stem the blood flow.

You can still remember his panicked comments now. The way he checked for a collapsed lung, monitoring each breath, stammering on about tension pneumothorax and probabilities of life. Everything was based on chance, if the bullet avoided major organs. If the bullet curved strategic anatomical structures.

There’s something intimate to the knowledge, the romanticised ideal that you’ve seen the worst of each other.

“You love me,” he repeats, like he needs time to accept that it’s never been one sided. “Well, I love you more, so I win.”

When you kiss his brow, whisper that he’s an idiot, he exhales, pushing into the warmth. His hands are shaky, fumbling as they work to repay the favour, extracting clothes from your frame.

You watch as he drops to his knees, staring up at you with something akin to worship. He knows he will pay for this later. He pays for it all. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, “Are you aware of how long i’ve waited for this?”

He unhooks your panties, coaxes your body to the edge of the bed. Legs draped over his shoulders, his breath is warm, slow, measured contact as he drags his swollen lips along your skin. A trail of kisses, travelling from hipbone to inner thigh.

“You’re the only thing I’ve thought about since I joined the BAU,” he sounds so pained. Like there’s anguish to his undying commitment. “Do you know how impressive that is? Your whole existence has the capacity to just… derail me.”

“Spencer,”

“Yeah,” he sighs, eyes falling shut, “Keep saying my name..”

There’s a litter of fading marks engrained into you now, from his mouth. When he reaches your clit, it takes all of his strained control to not lie you flat against the bed and bury his face.

Instead, there’s measured halos, he flattens his tongue, catching sensitive nerves with wet pressure, your hips push forward, breathless noises stifled by the bite to your bottom lip.

“Feels s’good,” you slur when his movements pick up, praise falling easy from your mouth. “You’re so good.”

He whimpers once, and then once more when your hand finds his head, sinking into tousled auburn hair. When your fingers reach the root and tug him closer until all he can breathe is you.

It’s a directing force, one that abolishes all thoughts beyond you.

He’s not sure he’ll ever recover from this. Because he can’t love easy. He’ll probably spend the next decade reciting each detail of this moment to himself.

You’re splayed out across dishevelled linen, bedding that holds traces of him. Cedar-wood, coffee, that soft press of freshly washed cotton. You pull harder, a litany of moans spilling from parted lips. A mess of sounds and stimulation, he pauses to drag his tongue across the length of your stained inner thigh before pliantly returning to your clit.

“Spence— fuck, just like that..” your back arches off the mattress, hips canting, bucking forward into his mouth to deepen the friction. It’s hedonistic, greedy, the way you push for more, even when he’s demeaned to his knees, giving you everything.

He groans when you take his middle and ring finger. When he can feel tight heat wrapped around his digits. Anatomy has always been his favourite subject, he’s mastered the art of locating erogenous zones. His fingers curve, and you respond irrationally.

Your thighs are gripping his head now, ensuring he remains locked, and Spencer’s not sure suffocation has ever sounded so good. Because his scalp aches from your sharp hands, and you’re pulling hard enough to warrant tears. He whines, in response, stuttering out fractured oh’s with every lap of his tongue.

“Gonna…” you warn, and he pushes your hips down into the mattress and fucks you through the orgasm. The pulse of your clit, drawn into his mouth, and the clench of muscle around his fingers as you burn with pleasure. Synapses in overdrive, stars staining beneath your closed eyes.

In the aftermath, he takes his time to clean up his own mess. To catch his breath, to not to think about his own arousal. How untouched he is, after all this time.

Climbing the length of your body, he presses kisses to your torso, over every part of you that he hasn’t grazed before.

He stops his ascent at the base of your neck, a soft kiss between your breasts and another on each of your nipples.

“I think I win,” he mutters. “Again.”

Simple words. He’s masochistic, desperate to be put back in his place. You’ve never had an issue with that.

You laugh, albeit breathlessly. “Cute that you assume I would ever let you win.”

He moans, fracturing in two, as your hand drags down his skin. He feels like he’s been hard for centuries. Never finding release. His body doesn’t obey, if it’s not you. When your thumb rolls over his tip, collecting pre-cum, he keens. Lying face to face, his forehead presses to your own, meeting your stare with this helpless, flushed look of need.

He’s too touch-starved to be embarrassed. “Please,”

“Shh,” you muffle his begs, smearing his bottom lip with his own pre-cum before pushing the digit into his mouth. “I don’t think you want to win.” he won’t protest truth, “I think you’re trying to bait me into proving you wrong.” the way he squirms, whimpers, breathless to the pleasure. “Such a whore…”

He can’t find fault in that. “Only for you,” he mutters, “Exclusively for you.”

He pushes forward, catching your lips with his own. It’s a messy kiss. Something that resembles younger him. It’s not like he’s garnered excessive experience since then. Sex, bodies, contact has never been his field of expertise.

It doesn’t help that he’s wasted half of his life aching for you.

“Prove me wrong,” he mutters against your mouth, “All the time. Every single day.”

The way your hand wraps around his cock, the long strokes that graze a need he’s never quite reached himself,.. it’s all torturous. There’s nothing soft in his response, because he bucks forward, into the warmth of your hold, whining like he belongs in porn.

“No, no.. please..” he pleads when you draw back. Though any further protests, soft breathless attempts at coercion, are cut short when you straddle his waist. Legs draped, guiding his tip between folds to graze your clit.

Being corrupted, taken, isn’t something he felt he would experience at his age. But, here he is…

“Slow,” you command, taking him by the inch. It’s a gradual descend, stretching to accommodate his length.

By the time he’s bottomed out, he looks gone. Mouth half-parted, hollow-lidded eyes, debauched expression as he struggles to breathe. “Slow,” he repeats, as if that word has any good over him now. Everything is static beyond his hips, pushing forward to meet the drag of your own.

He feels raw, uncut, exposed in new ways. Ways that only you can coax out of him.

“You feel… so good,” he mutters, breathless, between a jumble of oh oh oh’s. You rock against him, carving pleasure, and it’s so unfair. Because he’s not supposed to be ruined already.

He can only handle the sight of you, draped over him for so long; his hands snake around your waist, using the hold to drag you both up. Leant against the bed frame. A momentary lapse in movement. “Hi.” he says, coy. “Hi, you’re so beautiful..” his lips meet your neck.

There are parts of you that he believed he would never uncover.

You scoff, “You’re going soft on me here.”

“Are you sure? Because from where i’m sat, I’d beg to differ—“ his words are destroyed by the force of your movements.

He feels warm, in ways that are so intrinsic that the feeling could border on religious. Your hips sink against his, and the contact is enough to drive him mad. His hands are tangled in hair, guiding you closer, kissing you again, and again until you’re just breathing into each others mouth.

“I’m always soft for you,” he promises between ragged breaths. When you’re close, he still feels he retains a fracture of what he once was.

“Good,” you grab a fistful of hair, watch as he breaks.

“Oh,” he moans, ripping into his own lip. “Oh— please..” To have you on his lap, wrapped around him, gasping into his collar. Your body is the culmination of every fantasy — the clandestine ones he was content to keep buried indefinitely.

You watch as he cups your face, as he forces your eyes to meet his in the diluted light. ‘Please,’ he says, shameless to the words, meeting your stare head-on. ‘Please please please.’

He begs, straight to your face. “Just have me. I want it so bad…”

He feels possessed. Leashed, built for you alone.

“Yeah? Do you want me to own you?” your words are a dragged whisper against his ear, he thinks he might come from just this. “To know that you’re mine alone?”

“Mhm—“ he breathes out, “Yes, fuck— please.”

You wrap your hand around his neck, pressing your thumb to his throat. He wears your grip like a necklace. “Just like that, huh?” his hips twitch, pushing up to bury his cock deeper into you.

You hold. For a few moments, watching as he struggles against the restriction to his airflow. He’s flushed, whining out “Just like that…” when you release.

“Take it, Spencer.” you retort, watching as he groans, head spilling back against the wall, severing the eye contact. “If you’re going to be good for me, take it.”

“Trying— ‘m trying,” he sobs. The words are fragmented, they get caught in a knot of moans and half-whimpers.

His hands, his deft, long fingers, tremble as they drag across your ribs, as they palm your breasts before hooking around your waist to deepen each push of movement.

There’s a reminder, burning through the back of his mind. Because touch has always entailed pain. Bruises, scarring, a reminder that some people are inherently violent, and no matter how soft you are, you can be ripped apart…

He’s not sure if he’s the victim or the antagoniser. He thinks maybe both.

…but when your fingers lace with his own, he loses himself.

His head falls to your shoulder. “Please, im trying..” to take it, to accept the pleasure, to acknowledge that you’re permanent. Something irreversible, a black hole he’ll bet his life on.

“I know, I know. So good, Spence. Just like that.”

He’s never needed praise more than he does now.

“There we go.., i’ve got you.”

“I’m yours,” he sobs, “You know i’m yours. Only ever been yours.”

When he comes, it’s messy. Ruptured whimpers and the arch of his back; he’s faintly aware of you clenching around him, reaching your own orgasm, but everything feels, and it’s so much. A tangle of stimuli that his tired body has grown used to begging for. He spills deep inside of you, marking himself in crevices.

“Why did we waste so much time?” he asks after. When you’re both flushed, lying naked against his mattress. “You could’ve had me when I was better. You could’ve had that version of—“

“Spencer,” you cut off. “I don’t care. There isn’t ‘versions of you,’ that’s dumb.” he wants to laugh at your bluntness. “There’s just.. you. You before prison. And you after. They’re both the same, you haven’t lost yourself. You’re just… stronger now.”

“I don’t want to be stronger.” he says, leaning forward to kiss you. “Teach me how to be weak again.”

You don’t tell him there’s no going back. That he’ll never retain the innocence of what once was. Instead, you just sigh, hand curved around his jaw as you reciprocate the contact. “Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah,” you respond, “I promise.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid smut #sub spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #post prison reid #he makes me SAD #(and horny)

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prettiestlovergirl · 10 months ago

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hiii!! i love how u write theo and i was wondering if u could do another oral fixation!reader x cold!theo nott (it doesn’t have to be smut ofc, pls do whatever makes u comfortable, even if that means you don’t write this at all!!)

have a great night!

🎀 anon (if that’s not already taken ofc!)

oh, my love, i am sososo happy you asked me for this! idk why i have so much fun with cold! theo but i DO and the fact that you also love him makes me giddy hehe.

this is basically like a continuation of the last one! just a different nickname. (🎀 anon is all yours, babe!) i'm too lazy to add it to everything, bambola means doll! hope this lived up to your expectations. enjoy, my lovely! 𓆩♡𓆪

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; oral fixation! reader; princess! reader; jealousy; light hairpulling; fingering; unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it); sarcastic banter; ends with some fluff; italian! theodore nott

currently, slytherin house was throwing a massive party in the common room. you guys had won in your game against ravenclaw, so of course you were all celebrating with loud music and an abundance of alcohol.

theo was looking for you. the two of you hadn't gotten a moment alone since the library incident he couldn't stop replaying on a loop in his mind.

wanting you was a bad idea. you were from two different worlds, you were polar opposites, but fuck did he need to have you again more than air.

even in a room full of people, his eyes always found you first. unfortunately (for the other guy) you were in the middle of a dance with some guy from the year above you two.

your face was flushed from dancing, your eyes sparkling with joy and laughter as the guy spun you around. your hair was in a ponytail, and he had the sudden urge to wrap it around his fist and tug you to him.

all it would take is one little tug and you would be all his for the taking, the douchebag with his hands on you didn't stand a fucking chance against him.

theo remained cool and composed, but his eyes? his eyes gave everything away. they showed the jealousy sparking deep within him, one misplaced hand away from starting a fire.

you must have been able to feel the heat of his stare on your skin, because you turned your head around and were instantly met with theo's dark gaze.

your breath hitched and the previous smile on your face was wiped as theo approached, instantly wrapping his arms around you. he made a point to place his hand just above douchebags.

"bambola, you didn't tell me you made a new friend." theo mused, his cool and collected smile masking the jealousy, rage, and sudden desire to snap and beat the shit out of this guy for even looking at you, let alone touching you.

"hey, man, who the fuck are you?" douchebag scoffed, his arms still on you as bodies continued to sway and party around you. "someone who's going to kick your pathetic ass if you don't get out of here in the next five seconds."

douchebag looked like he wanted to argue, but the murderous glint in theo's eyes and the fact that he started lifting his fingers in a countdown finally scared him away.

"what the hell was that?!" you huffed, stepping away from his grasp and placing your hands on your hips. "i really like ethan!" you hissed, noticing the muscle tick in his jaw as you said his name.

"you can do better, bambola. he scared too easy, he's not worth your time." theo said coolly, slight smirk on his face as you rolled your eyes. "oh, because you're better? please-"

"you really think you would have enjoyed yourself with him, bella? you think he would have made your eyes roll the way i did? think his fingers would compare to mine? i can still hear your pretty little whimpers, darling."

a shiver ripped through your body at his words, lips parting in surprise at hearing the normally so calm and proper theodore nott speak such filthy words with ease.

"you've got five minutes to meet me by the stairs, bambola... or i've throw you over my shoulder and drag you up myself." he purred in your ear, his voice low and dark and raspy with desire.

of course, you followed theo out almost immediately. you would have been a fool not to follow him, especially with the way you couldn't help but replay the scene of you two in library every time you closed your eyes.

anticipation fluttered beneath your skin as you and theo walked up the stairs to the boy's dormitory. there was an aching pressure between your thighs as you walked, his hand on the small of your back burning so hot he was practically branding you.

you couldn't take your eyes off him the moment you stepped into the room. you hadn't uttered a word the whole way up, but you didn't have to: you both knew exactly what was going to happen tonight.

theo leaned back against the canopy of his bed, arms crossed as his eyes burned into you. "come here." he finally commanded; voice soft as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms.

you did as told, walking step by step until your bodies nearly collided. "fuck, bambola. you don't know what you do to me." he murmured before finally crashing his lips down onto yours in a rough, deliberate kiss.

his hand fisted your hair, holding you tightly as his teeth tugged at your bottom lip. he shifted a bit, sinking down onto his mattress and helping you straddle him with ease.

he pulled away after a moment, watching the way your chest heaved as you attempted to catch your breath before he left a trail of hot, fiery kisses down the side of your neck.

you could feel his cock digging into your skin through his boxers, drawing a soft whine out of you as you started to gently grind down against him.

he groaned against your neck, his hand sliding up your inner thigh until it reached your soaked panties. he pressed his palm firmly against your pussy, making you moan out in surprise and need.

"fuck, you're so wet." he groaned, dipping his hand into your panties and pushing two fingers inside your puffy walls. your eyes squeezed shut as you moaned, forehead leaning against his as you relished in the agonizingly delicious stretch.

"theo..." you gasped, mouth falling open as he buried his fingers to the hilt and immediately pressed his thumb against your swollen clit. "fuck, your roommates are gonna come up and see us." you whimpered, sweating beading on your forehead.

"no, they won't, bella." theo hummed, his voice maddeningly calm compared to your breathy whimpers. he brought his free hand up to your lips, pushing his thumb into your open mouth, effectively keeping you from asking more questions.

you rolled your hips down against him, desperate for more as he continued to slowly drag his thumb over your clit while his fingers rubbed against your walls. "need you to fuck me, please." you begged, coating his thumb in your saliva.

"ask me again." he demanded, voice still calm and collected as your tongue swirled around his thumb. "fuck me, theo. i need you to fuck me." you pleaded, opening your eyes to look right at him as he pulled his fingers out of you.

he flipped your positions, pushing you back against the mattress. his fingers made quick work of your clothes, stripping you completely bare for him. he ran his tongue over his lower lip, mouth going dry as he admired just how fucking gorgeous you were.

his gaze was almost predatory as he admired you before leaning down, kissing his way to your chest and taking a nipple into his mouth. he licked and tugged and teased while you squirmed and whimpered underneath him.

one hand gripped your hip tightly, it was definitely going to leave a fresh bruise on your skin but you didn't care. his other hand went down to quickly rid himself of his pants and boxers before lining himself up with you.

"look at me, bambola." he said roughly, waiting until your eyes were back on his. you nearly gasped when you saw him, the theodore nott in front of you was someone you could hardly recognize.

his usually perfect hair was tussled, his sweat making it stick to his forehead, and his eyes were pools of black and desire. "please." you begged, your voice hoarse with desire.

he kept direct eye contact with you as he finally pushed inside of you, inch by torturous fucking inch. it was sweaty and intimate and you'd never wanted this moment to end.

as he bottomed out, your mouth finally opened in a tortured moan. he lifted two fingers back into your mouth as he started to move slowly. you happily swirled your tongue around his fingers, thankful for the feeling as he started to pull back out.

he pulled out all the way until it was just the tip of his cock still inside before thrusting back inside of you. he thrusted deeper, faster, harder, and you wrapped your legs up around his waist to pull him closer.

after that, you could no longer form any thought that wasn't about how good his cock felt pounding into your desperate, soaked pussy. your tongue swirled around his fingers as you moaned and bucked your hips up to meet his thrusts.

tears streamed down your cheeks as he fucked into you, lips pressing kisses and bites all over your chest while your nails dug into his back. "look at you, bambola. already weeping from how good my cock is fucking your sweet little pussy."

your eyes rolled into the back of your head, the filthy words coming from him practically tipping you over the edge. "fuck, fuck, theo, 'm gonna cum, fuck!" you cried, toes curling as your orgasm crashed into you like a wave.

his controlled, deliberate thrusts quickly grew erratic. he let out a hiss as your nails scraped his skin, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he fucked into you. he pulled out a few moments later, coating your stomach in his cum.

you laid there while he got a rag to quickly clean you up, letting you stay collapsed and boneless against his sheets. theo being theo, he had to at least put your things in a pile before eventually laying beside you.

your eyes were closed, but you could feel his eyes staring at you intently. you finally opened one eye, staring at him as you yawned. "what?" you asked, biting your kiss-swollen lip.

"nothing, nothing it's just... i think this might be the longest i've ever heard you go without talking." he teased, a smirk on his face as his shoulders shook with laughter.

you wanted to be mad, you really did, but it was so impossibly hard to be mad when you heard him laugh. he was always so composed, so stoic. any time you could crack through his persona was a success in your eyes.

"mean!" you laughed, reaching up to smack his chest. he grabbed your arm before you could hit him and he tugged you in close. he pressed a soft, gentle kiss on the chunk of skin he'd bitten earlier before covering you with a sheet.

"you're mine, bambola, and now that i have you? i'm not letting you go any time soon."

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

#☆lola writes !#☆ lola's requests !#☆ my lovely 🎀 anon #theodore nott #theodore nott smut #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #mwah <3

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sickeninglyshoujo · 10 months ago

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Idk if you do requests or suggestions n stuff like that, so feel free to ignore this, but how do you think Simon would feel about a significant other who got caught in an explosion or something that badly scared/disfigured half her face?

She’s not insecure enough to hide her face because of it, but she gets irritable when people stare, and will will sometimes make self deprecating jokes about being an, “eyesore” and how she, “ain’t exactly a beauty anymore”

a/n: this is actually the first time anyones requested anything from me and it made me so happy omg

masterlist here

buy me a ko-fi

warnings: mentions of injury, blood, scars, a dash of smut

word count: 1.4k

The scarring that covered a little under half of your face rarely bothered you. The occasional tightness or twinges of pain with the weather changes was the worst of it and nothing that couldn’t be remedied with a thin coating of bio oil and a gentle massage.

The appearance of the scarring didn’t bother you either, compared to the angry red skin that had first grown back after the explosion.

One misplaced charge by a newbie to blow open a door had sent you sprawled on your ass, your pride hurting. You’d hardly noticed the pain until you’d seen Johnny white as a sheet when he kneels down over you, “Don’ worry lass, ‘ve gotcha.”

“Johnny?” You ask, a little out of sorts from the shockwave of the charge.

“Lass, ‘ve gotcha!” He affirmed, stripping your helmet and his tac gear, before his thin cotton vest was pressed over your face.

“Ah know, lass, best ah can do now.”

“Can’t see, Johnny…”

“Hush, lass, gotta keep you covered. Yer in a state… Bleedin’ through already.”

Johnny kept heavy pressure on your face, barking out orders at the others on how to complete the mission, all the while holding his vest pressed tightly, so tightly onto your face.

“S-soap, i’ hurts,” you moaned.

“Hush, lass, we’ll get out soon,” His hands disappeared from your face and you were being hauled up into his arms, “Gotta finish the mission then we’ll get you to a medic, promise.”

Ghost is in the medical wing before your wounds have even been cleaned, “Where’s the fucking shithead who placed the charge!”

You blink, swiping at some of the blood covering your face.

“The rookie’s still in debrief, Ghost, she only came here because she needed medical,” Soap says.

“Get that little asshole in here, he’ll need medical by the time I’m done with him.”

The healing had been slow and painful as your nerves knit themselves back together.

“You don’ have to worry about getting revenge on the rookie, lass,” Johnny said one day as he visited you in the medical wing, “Ghost has been at the poor dog’s heels, not giving him a moment’s rest. Think he’s about to keel over and die from the amount of suicides hes been given.”

Ghost sleeps in the armchair next to your bed.

Ghost helps to remove the stitches after you insisted on not returning to the hospital.

Ghost is the one who helps to massage the medicated creams on while you grit your teeth at the bone deep pain that radiates.

Ghost is the one ready to bite off heads when people so much as let their eyes linger on the raised and angry skin.

“Don’t worry about it, Simon, I really don’t mind the looks much. People are just wondering what happened,” The mission had been need-to-know and even the details of your injury weren’t allowed to leave confidential briefings.

Your opinion changes as your scars settle into a raised and mottled mauve, pockmarks and dents covering half of your face, the stares on base continue.

“What, you’ve never seen an eyesore before? I think you’d be used to looking at one in the mirror every morning with a face like that,” You snapped at a new recruit who had completely stopped in his tracks, mouth opened in shock at your appearance, “Meet me in the gym tomorrow at oh-six-hundred. You’re going to learn to respect your superiors' battle wounds the hard way,” You snarled out at him.

Off base, the stares are worse so you begin to limit your time on leave.

You grit your teeth and set your face in a hard line in public, schooling your expression so that people don’t notice the way that their wide-eyed glances hit you like punches.

You don’t notice how fewer stare when Ghost is around, he’ll glare them down over your head and make them scurry away before their eyes even reach you.

You don’t notice the way Ghost’s eyes darken in the rec room when you make a joke to the lads about being “damaged goods” and “Frankenstein” even if your eyes are filled with tears of laughter as you cackle at your own jokes.

“Don’ like hearing you talk like that,” Simon corners you after you leave the rec room to refill your drink.

“Jesus Christ! Simon! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” You clutch your chest where your racing heart resided, “Give a girl some warning before I attach a bell to you.”

He didn’t speak for a beat, “I don’t want to hear you calling yourself ‘damaged goods’ anymore, love.”

“Just speaking the truth, Si,” You gestured at your face, the still painful and shiny skin, “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought it too? I know I wasn’t winning beauty contests before, but now I would probably be better as a scare actor.”

“Tha’s not true.”

“You don’t have to be nice to me just because I’m your girlfriend!”

“If I was bein’ nice I’d tell you tha’ you were the scariest,” Simon begins, still kissing down the line of scarred flesh, now reaching your chest, free of scars.

“You’re so pretty,” Simon murmurs against the line where healthy flesh met mottled scarring, “Want you to say it back to me, love. Need to hear you say it.”

The healthy skin of your face began to flush, nearly matching your scars in color, “Si-”

“I need you to know how pretty you are to me, before and now,” His kisses continue tracing your healed wounds, “Never seen a prettier bird.”

His hands trace your hip bones, settling at their crest, “Before I could only think how soft you were, that I had to protect you on missions. Nearly got my head blown off more than once. Now all I can see is how strong you are,” His hands begin to trail lower, petting over your stomach and then lower still.

“There she is,” He coos when you jump as his fingers make contact, “Now tell me how pretty you are for me doll, wanna hear you say it before I make you cry it f’ me.”

He makes you cry that night.

He switches from nipple to nipple, “Say it, lovie,” He tells you as he pauses to thumb at your nipple, giving his mouth a break.

“‘M pretty,” You whimper out.

“Again,” he says, kissing down your stomach, “Give yourself another compliment, sweet girl.”

“Si!”

“I’ll help you pretty girl,” He coos at you, in between mouthing at your hip bones, “You’re strong, now say it.

“I-I’m strong,” Now his mouth travels lower still, you wriggle trying to rush him into going faster. He can tell your game and deliberately pulls his mouth off, “You’re impatient too, lovie, but I’ll forgive it and give you what you need if you give me another compliment.”

“‘M not an eyesore!”

“That’s right, you’re beautiful, lovie,” He finally lowers himself to give tiny licks at your clit sending you jerking up into his mouth.

“Everytime you say those things about yourself it drives me mad that you don’t see what I do. Even with your scars you’re still beautiful and sexy and knowing you’re all mine makes me hard as a fucking rock.”

You whimper under him, trying to grind down onto is tongue to get more, more, more.

“So pretty for me, pretty face, pretty body, pretty cunt,” Simon murmurs into you, pulling his mouth away just long enough to watch his fingers tease along your hole before slipping one inside, “Givin’ me the prettiest little moans when I touch…here,” He crooked his fingers inside of you and made you jerk under him, crying out.

“The scars just make you prettier, dove,” Simon says, “Shows me you’re real and can take anything the world can give you. That you can’t be taken from me.”

His words fizzle into your brain as you grind down onto his finger everytime it thrusts into you, “Si, more,” You pant out, “Need more.”

“Gimme another one, pretty girl.”

“‘M brave,” You can barely get the words out, torn between trying to whimper out praise to yourself to try and get Simon to do more or to beg him for it instead.

“Good girl, you’re listening so well,” He slid another finger inside of you, “You’re so brave sweet girl,” He kissed your thigh.

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod fanfiction #grave writes

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haechanhues · 3 months ago

Text

Is This Goodbye? (III)

pairing : brother's best friend! hyunjin x fem!reader (mentions other members x reader)

genre : smut. fluff. angst.

warnings : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. smut scene that's a bit....idk. Period brain wrote that. So sorry. Bit of a weird dynamic between characters (Minho and Y/N specifically but also another character we have yet to meet in the present timeline but you'll see what I mean). Jealousy. Someone being emotionally unfaithful. last scene and a few scenes in there is unedited but there may be mistakes throughout anyway.

word count : 19.1k

taglist : @jisungsdaydreamer @minnieprincess85 @notevenheretbh1 @iovecb97

AU masterlist

playlist : burn - USHER, come back to me again - byun jin sub, lust - felip ft cyra gwynth, hate that - key ft taeyeon, consume - chase atlantic ft goon des garcons)

"So," You start, feeling so jittery that the bones in your body could misplace themselves within the confines of your skin, "Run it by me again-"

The boy in front of you is always so patient (especially with you).

Though, you suppose at this age you should call him a man now. His features appear more fierce and sharp as the time passes, but his eyes are still the same. Always sweetened with affection when regarding you.

"They'll go through the legal processes and if all goes well-" The possibility that it couldn't go through makes your skin crawl, "Then...he's ours. He'll be my brother. Legally."

You smile, but it's a smile that's hard to pinpoint. Glossy and grateful, yet sad and helpless. But Lee Minho mirrors it to the exact detail. Like he always does. He just knows, because, he knows you.

"And you..." With a wobbly inhale, his eyes bore into yours with a strong intensity, "You'll be theirs."

You can feel his guilt fill every crevice of his heart and you hate that you can see it so clearly. Hate the way he finds fault in himself because of the situation and how you ended up. Forgetting that, it was always a possibility, just not one that was very likeable.

You place your hand on his thigh, using him as leverage to lift yourself against the strong muscle to bring him into a kiss he can't refuse. He freezes, breath rattling slightly before he begins to kiss you back.

Kissing Minho feels like love. It is love.

His fingers thread into your hair, and he presses deeper into you, mouth opening slowly. The twist of your scents embroiders the two of you in a sweet daze that neither of you can snap out of. Your shampoo and the flutter of your dress, a sweet tropical scent and then his the natural scents of his home long nurtured into all of Minho's being; his clothes, his skin, his soul.

You pull away when your lips are swollen and Minho takes the time to brush away the evidence, combing your hair out of your face and smoothing out any stray tear that escapes your eyes. When it comes to your lips and the smudged tint his mouth left behind, his thumb falters.

He swallows harshly, the action bringing your gazes together like a puzzle piece, "We have to go before I make a mess of you."

Your bite your lip at his urgency, feeling it churn in your stomach. You look back a last time, committing to memory that overgrowth of fruit treees and clean lines of care long abandoned.

Your second safe haven, left alone for the two next souls that find each other and bond so much they can't bear to let go of each other.

Your first...leading the way to the next chapter in your life.

Felix is the first person you see in the room. At that point in time, you don't know him. He doesn't know you. But with what your parents have said, this boy in front you can only be Felix and with what his parents, your parents now, have said... you're Y/N.

"Hey," Contrary to first impressions, his voice is rich and deep in tone. His hair, the colour of thunderstorm clouds and long enough to brush behind his ear.

"Hey."

Felix points to himself lamely, "Felix. Or Youngbok. Feel free to use either."

You laugh (because it's awkward and he joins you for the same reason). You lick your lips, nerves dissipating with every second despite the weird tension in the room.

Neither of you know how to act around the other.

"Y/N," You smile, "No other 'or' I can think of, sorry."

He smiles warmly, hints of familiarity in the curves of his lips and the brightness of his gaze. It's a familiarity that saddens you, but you can't fault Felix for it, not when he's being so open and so welcoming to the invader. At the sound of his name from down the hall, you're pulled from the depth of your thoughts, the remnants left leaving a permanent mark. You feel empty, just a little.

Without realising, he turns to look at you, freckles pronounced more clearly as he steps forward, reaching out with a welcoming hand to pat you awkwardly on the head.

He'll learn to despair over the moment, complaining countlessly to anyone that will listen, that he was so fucking awkward that it's a miracle in itself that you even want to breathe the same air as him, much less like him. Then he'll attempt to reclaim his likeness by recounting how he helped you for weeks on end, spending time with you and inviting you into shared spaces. Showing you around the house and indulging in well kept secrets that only home owners would know. He'll discuss that the kitchen is ruled by him, that the study room has your mother in a tight grip and the living room is a space that your father and the stray cat, Tom frequents.

But for you, the love you had for him began with that single head pat.

A single head pat and it felt like you'd do everything for him. It felt stupid, but in that moment, Felix had changed the constructions of 'home' and what it meant to you. And you, never wanted to let it go.

It took awhile to get used to everything. But you learnt. You learnt that your father tends to leave the bathroom window wide open and needs to be reminded often. to close it before he goes to bed. You learn that the walls used to be a blue colour until your family moved in early 2007 and replaced them with a creamra wallpaper in 2011. You also learn that Felix would play 'Follow The Dot' with his freckles when he was bored.

It was a house you needed to learn and at the early hour of two AM you discovered that the house was harder to navigate in the dark and the thought of meeting Minho when the moon wore the night sky like a cloak made your blood rush through your body unlike anytime before.

Felix even introduced you to his friends. Changbin was a loud soul, always ransacking the whole room with his volume level alone. It was easy to forgive that due to being handsome and his helping hand whenever your Mum needed help. It came naturally to him, no thoughts running through his head as he placed a gentle yet protective hand onto the small of your back in the middle of a busy street or as he shielded you from the sky with a cute little umbrella, ignoring the way the rain painted his back.

Hyunjin in comparison wasn't as outwardly helpful as Changbin but he really wasn't horrible either. He enjoyed the attention given to him and could sweet talk a young mother into giving up her child to him if he was that sort of person. Anything he did caused tingles to run up your spine. Sometimes he'd smooth your hair down if a strand came loose or how he'd tower over you to get something from the top shelf. He also seemed to really enjoy and appreciate everyone around him.

But Felix's girlfriend....man

This was the first time you were meeting Felix's girlfriend and you were excited. He never really shut up about her and you never really had any luck bonding with girls the same age as you, naturally gravitating towards mother figures or the boys you grew up with.

"Hey," Her smile was insane and when she brought you into a hug, you closed your eyes from the warmth of it. Her perfume and the shampoo she uses, it was so pleasant you were a little in love.

She was pretty, somewhat tall and even taller when she wore heels. She began to take you out on regular lunch dates and would ask you questions.

Only one of her questions was about Minho and it wasn't even really about Minho;

How were you liking the family?

How were you feeling?

Do you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Partner?

Questions that made you feel oddly joyful that you had trouble keeping your excitement tolerable when you reunited with Felix again.

"Fun, huh?" He giggled a little, taken aback.

You nodded.

You loved her like a sister, much like you had already accepted Felix, you accepted her. Though it wasn't because of her relationship with Felix, it was because she was kind, generous and always willing to share gossip with you.

You even bragged about her with Minho and he laughed and made a comment about the love hearts in your eyes.

You weren't shy when it came to sharing about your new home life, Minho becoming victim to the inner layouts of the family dynamic and how you fit in. Even indulging him in the story of the stray cat, Tom who snuck into the living room whilst your dad was absent.

He, sadly was a little less willing to share about his own home life, but you were excited and that was enough for the both of you.

Moments went by and life was good, made better on the nights Minho came to visit. The handsome boy like sprinkles or the cherry kiss at the end of a good day.

"So....the guy that visits you, is he a nice guy?" Changbin asks, his voice borderline protective. The three of them stand there, with their arms crossed and their frowns a hybrid of different emotions.

"Huh?"

"Your boyfriend?" Changbin raises his eyebrow, "He visits at night, doesn't he?"

"He's not my boyfriend," You deny, shaking your head before peering curiously at the three of them, "How did you know about him?"

"We saw you both, in that roof balcony thing," Hyunjin shrugs, "Not your boyfriend?"

"Just friends," You smile, "He's a good guy though."

It has the boys questioning how much of it is true, if at all.

"Wanna bring him around when it's not dark? Mum would love to meet him," Felix offers. You stare back, horrified.

"She knows about him?"

"No," Felix snorts, "But it'll be nice to have a friend you can bring through the front door and not bushwhack every night just to see him."

True.

And Mum absolutely did love Minho. It touched you. Your mother opened her arms and practically scooped him up into a cuddle and Minho, ever the sweetheart and shy boy, blushed and attempted his best to return her hug.

Attempted because nothing could ever match one of her hugs.

He ended up scoring points with your father too, something as simple as a habit that he picked up as a child - family chores - scoring brownie points.

Felix also loved the way you lit up around Minho in a way he wasn't quite familiar with. For the most part, both Hyunjin and Changbin both liked him too. But, Felix was going to take his first ever opportunity in playing protective brother and not even a green flag like Lee Minho would stop him.

Felix's girlfriend smiled at Minho, offering a quick side hug before parting shortly afterwards, excusing herself to get more cups and party decorations left in her car. Though, not without an approving look shot your way.

You led Minho by the arm to the patio, fairy lights decorating the area and college kids pouring into the party, eyes widening as he acknowledges his surroundings and the passing murmurs of hello.

Changbin holds out two plastic cups for the both of you, eyeing the way Minho levels him with a polite smile, not reaching out for the cup of free alcohol.

"Do you want something alcohol-free?"

"Please."

Changbin only grins, "Don't stress," before venturing to the section with unopened cans and a supply of fizzy drink and grape juice. Not without stopping by Hyunjin, handing him the cup that Minho didn't take. Hyunjin accepted it with a small show of thanks, returning to both Felix and his girlfriend who greedily listen to his words with rapt attention.

It was a nice sight.

Hyunjin's words seemed to create imagery behind their eyes and their lips and eyebrows could barely contain their own excitement. Fe;ix's girlfriend even sat there listening attentively as Felix's fingers were tracing patterns into the skin of her thigh.

Changbin returns with the non-alcoholic options, thrusting a glass of fizzy guava drink into your hand, encouraging you to drink up. Minho's arms slid around you naturally as you dawdled forward to join your brother and his people. The story was nice, but you found more comfort in the way Minho rhythmically tapped away at your waist.

The circle was full of laughter and affection, everyone's bodies close and the rules of personal space void. Changbin sat on the opposite side of you, leaning into the two of you and creating a blanket of serenity for the both of you.

Everything was so new to you, but at the same it felt familiar almost.

The rumbling of Minho's laughter against your back and the warmth of the fire licking the length of your legs. Felix's girlfriend's loud amusement to match Felix's show of agreement and Hyunjin's show of endless passion.

You never wanted it to change.

When the night gets colder and the huddle became the only thing standing between life and death, Felix went to fetch some more firewood and Changbin had already abandoned you both in hopes to find a girl to talk to, stating the two of you made him lonely.

Watching the night sky, your murmur lowly with words that didn't really make sense, fatigue stretching over you, "Is that cass-ca...that star constellation? There? Name?"

Minho huffed a small chuckle, amused before leaning his head affectionately on yours, "Yes. That's a star constellation."

"Do you think Jeongin will be okay?" You mutter, feeling a heavy weight creep into your throat, hurting you and stripping you bare. Minho's easygoingness pauses, tightening his hold around you.

"Yes. I promise."

"Has he called you hyung yet?" You whisper, feeling your eyes become glassier by the second.

"Not yet," Minho admits, though he doesn't make an effort to promise you anything this time.

And you can't even say anything more because then someone will just be wrong and right now, you just can't have anything like that. You can't risk it. Not when this is the literal best scenario that you hoped endlessly for.

And it appears neither can he because....

"Does Felix's girlfriend actually like him?"

It comes so out of nowhere, you almost fall off of him at the sheer intensity and your head immediately whips to look at said girlfriend, defence already on the top of your tongue, "Yeah? She-oh. She's just really affectionate I think. The first time she met me she hugged me as if we had been friends for ages. She even hugged you tonight after meeting you once!"

"True," Minho accepted.

But, if Minho had noticed something....the truth of it was a little bit more plausible. You studied the way Hyunjin and Felix's girlfriend was cocooned, closely but not so close that you could immediately determine anything. She was smiling and laughing, the sound endless and Hyunjin....enjoying her attention. At least, just a little.

You dismissed it, giving the benefit of the doubt and a looming feeling in your stomach.

Now slightly uncomfortable, you rest back into your comfort, linking your fingers with his and closing your eyes. Too busy wishing and hoping to even dream.

Unfortunately the feeling doesn't cease, it seems that whatever idea Minho had planted in your head had already started growing its roots because every single interaction between them seemed a little too loaded. In fact, it was actually starting to anger you a little.

Sometimes, Felix would have the two of them over. Felix would have the controller in his hand and headset over his ears and the two of them would talk. She would giggle and joke around with Hyunjin and Hyunjin would smile and always willing to joke back.

Sometimes, Felix would lose a round and she'd be there to snort and Hyunjin would wrap him up in a hug after letting out a little giggle.

Sometimes, Felix would be talking and she'd just...make fun of his nerdy little tendencies. Berate him even.

"Oh Felix, you're really too old to be into things like this."

Then she'd turn to Hyunjin and be oh so interested in whatever he was spouting. The types of wine he used to steal from his grandmother's cellar or parties he attended, or even the songs on his drawing playlist. She'd laugh and laugh and laugh it all up.

Frowning a little, you take a seat beside Felix, a cold smile plastered on your face at the way she brushes a hand against Hyunjin's stomach and you lean into Felix, "Can you teach me how to play?"

Your reward is Felix's smile, the only smile in the room you decide you really want.

"Absolutely," So he teaches you, a tad impatient and passionate but kind and so genuinely happy you're taking an interest. It takes a few hours before you actually have to force yourself away from the game, too involved that you're starting to scare yourself and everyone else.

"See, huh huh? What did I tell ya?" Felix's drawl is teasing as his avatar beats the ogre that has been relentlessly chasing you through that shitty pixelated jungle on the screen.

"Hey- Lix, Imma go," Hyunjin cheeses as he shakes Felix's hand. You freeze as he bends down to plant a chaste kiss on the top of your head, "See you Y/N."

He casts a quick look at Felix's girlfriend, who watches him like he's some heaven sent creature, "Bye."

A few minutes pass and when it's clear Hyunjin has really left, Felix's girlfriend lets out a breath, "I'm actually gonna go too, Lixie."

"What?"

"Well you're on your game and-"

"I'm on my game because you've been talking to Hyunjin-"

"Hold on, are you going to accuse me of cheating on you with Hyunjin?"

"No. But-"

"Look, I didn't think I would need to explain my actions to you, but I thought I should leave because you're bonding with your sister. Not because of Hyunjin. Can you just stop with the Hyunjin thing?" She bites at Felix before leaving the house with a slam of the front door.

Felix sighs before combing his hair back with his hands, game paused.

"That was-"

"Rough?" Felix offers with his eyebrows raised before his features even back out, "I know."

You were thinking more 'overreaction' but 'rough' works just as well.

"Hyunjin thing?" You ask instead, borderline dangerous territory you're venturing across. Wondering whether or not you really had the right to be here.

"I mentioned that maybe her favourite person was Hyunjin as a joke but she got defensive and now has been acting like this, "Felix explains, "It doesn't look great, I know."

"I'm sure it doesn't feel great either," You frown.

Felix leans in to knock his shoulder with mine, 'Don't worry about me. She's a sweet girl, really. We're just fighting a little."

"I'm allowed to worry about you," You mention, earlier insecurities catching up to you, "Right?"

His smile is slow and purposeful, perhaps even a touch sad, "Of course you're allowed to be worried and me with you, I'm allowed to be worried about you as well. It's only fair."

You sigh, "Fiiine."

"So, in saying that," He smiles and your groan is like music to him, "I like Minho but I like you more, stop meeting him so frequently in the early hours of the morning. Front door, always. Okay?"

It's nice. To be worried over like this. But you'll never be able to squash the fact your trump card is unwavering concern about those you love and how they fit into their own world.

Never in a million years.

So he may be forgiving when she makes little attempts to grab at Hyunjin's knee or paw at his arm whenever he talks. But not you. You watch like a hawk and you stalk towards the two of them, eyes jumping judgementally.

"Hey, can you help me?" You blurt out to Hyunjin, words tumbling out of you in an attempt to make sense, tone sweet, "Please?"

Hyunjin's eyebrows furrow in concern and her eyes, wide with curiosity and a tiny flicker of annoyance.

"I think Felix is at the mailbox."

You smile at her before you watch Hyunjin lift from his seat, following after you as you lead him away from the crowd and prying eyes. Lips pressing together in thought.

"You're good at braiding hair, right?"

Truthfully, nobody has ever said he was good at braiding hair and on second thought, maybe it wasn't the best distraction, considering....

"Uhh- I'm alright at it?" Hyunjin frowned, "Though why didn't you ask-?"

"In all honesty I don't know either," You shake your head, earning you a little laugh as he places both his hands onto your shoulder blades leading you to the bathroom.

"Tell me what you need then," Hyunjin smiled, watching as you pulled out two strands of hair clumsily in the front.

"I just don't like what's going on with this," You motion, a little frazzled. Though you were putting on an exaggerated act, it oddly didn't feel like it.

He smirked, rounding around your frame to make proper eye contact with you, "First things first, we'll have to fix your parting."

You startle a little, surprised by him. He's gentle, freeing bits of tied hair out of its elastic shackle and you're left to stare at him as he expertly threads your hair together in little elaborate braids, cleaning them up with a bit of water.

He really is handsome.

Though, there are a lot of handsome people in your life.

"There."

His smile slowly fades as he looks at you, swallowing harshly at the air caught in his throat. Your own smile mirroring the moment his drops. His finger strays to follow the skin of your lip, causing your whole body to tingle.

"He's lucky to have you," Hyunjin whispers, "You know."

"I'm lucky to have Felix," You whisper back and his back straightens. Eyes imploring into yours with something you can't quite decipher. His body frozen underneath the bathroom light and an evening tinted breeze.

He hums, dropping his hand like an anchor and stepping away from you, "Yeah. Felix."

This time, it really gets to you and it becomes clearer than day. Fact. Felix's girlfriend has a crush on Hyunjin and not one that could just be battered away with time. One that is disrespectfully stuck and manipulative, with only Felix suffering as a result.

It's Friday night, student hour. Hyunjin and Felix's girlfriend are planning to meet a few of their other casual friends at the club. Felix is too sick and opted to stay home, his girlfriend only offering to stay home with him when Hyunjin did.

"I really wish you'd come, Bok," Hyunjin comments. Felix's girlfriend pouts and nods, as if she fully supports the idea and it makes you sick to your stomach.

"Cause getting refused at the door sounds like a good idea and not a total waste of time," Felix snorts sarcastically sending him into a spluttering fit. You grimace at the sound, finding it on par with the visual of his sickness but ultimately rejoicing in his snark.

He's right though, he'd definitely get turned away.

"You don't have to stay Y/N, I'm perfectly capable of being home by myself," Felix tells you, and your initial reaction is to refuse. You want to stay with Felix, you really do. But you don't want to see Hyunjin and Felix's girlfriend all over each other and flirting like nobody's at home waiting for them.

And if you go...

Perhaps, a plan would be able to be set in motion.

"I don't have anything to wear," You groan.

Hyunjin grins, nodding his head towards Felix's girlfriend, "She brought over plenty. Use one of hers."

Her face is pained.

Yours, is the complete opposite.

"I've got a suitcase upstairs, come down with whatever you find and I can do your makeup if you like," She offers and it's kind, but it's slathered in a lard like substance you feel she wants to smother you with.

You choose the clothes at random, not drawn to one over the other. You find a sparkly midnight blue shirt with long sleeves and a black skirt, a pairing you've never been lucky enough to wear without regret. You stare at them before quickly pulling them both on. It's a little tight in areas you feel they shouldn't be and loose in areas you want them to be tight.

But, admittedly, you do look like a dream.

Your hands run down the material, inspecting the roundness of your ass.

Hyunjin spots you first, and his reaction has you pausing. It feels like the moment in the bathroom all over again. Eyebrows raised and tension electrified. Though the moment is broken when Felix and his girlfriend turn to see you, her mouth dropping and Felix's grin turning brotherly.

"You're beautiful," She admits, to which the smile you show her is sincere, growing only when she turns to look at Felix with a fond look, regret building, "Isn't she?"

Destroyed only when Felix coughs, the appearance of her disgust in sync with your sincerity. Lost and brushed away by the wind. She smiles at you again, gentle with your skin as she rubs in some cream and gives your hair a little life.

"Shall we go?" She has the gall to grin at you then, her eyes landing nowhere near her actual boyfriend. Once again. Hyunjin nods and immediately smacks Felix's hand. She follows after him, giving Felix a non committed little side hug to which he accepts dutifully.

Ignoring his sickness, you embrace your brother wholeheartedly, the both of you falling into a heap, your eyes closing as he wheezes a hearty laugh into your ear, "What are you doing? What if you get sick?"

"I wish you were coming," You muse, eyes still closed and your body enjoying his brotherly warmth he eagerly shows you.

"We have plenty of time," He whispers back, before he is sent into another coughing fit.

"You really don't have to come with us if you don't want to," She comments, your expression tightening at her voice scraping the roof your ear. You rise from your position in denial and Hyunjin smiles, eyes meeting yours.

"I want to come," You say instead. This time, you miss her expression. But you see his. His eyes, they twinkle.

You pile into the Uber with a last goodbye, all three of you painfully sober that they missed the opportunity to pre-drink. Plans on how to get drunk fast pouring out of their mouths, "We down a couple of shots and have a beer or something."

You look out the window, letting yourself be ignored. But out of the corner of your eye, she's turned her back to him and she's brushing her hair out of her face, "Can you zip up my dress?"

Hyunjin nods, zipping up the dress without a fuss and you stare at him through the reflection. You can't seem to understand him.

"Did you draw that character I told you about?"

"Nope. But I did draw those flowers, so thanks."

A giggle, "You're welcome. Do you often listen to One Direction while you paint?"

"Only sometimes."

You get out of the Uber with Hyunjin's confident goodbye and your quiet farewell, both you girls following after Hyunjin. Her hand is on his shoulder and you've opted to brave the slight drizzle of rain that welcomes you to the night sky.

"Hey Hyunjin," A few greetings bid their hellos as you walk past them all. He's a bit of a nightclub celebrity with how many of them walk by. Even Felix's girlfriend gets a couple of girls to come up to her.

With her other hand, she twists towards you to link holding your hand, leading you through the throng of drunken party-goers.

The drinks pour in one after the other, every third drink a shot of hard liquor and the in between being a cheap RTD option or wine to get you just as drunk as everyone else in the club. It's also an opportunity to watch her as she starts to flirt more openly with him.

"Hey, would you fuck that blonde in front of me and Felix if I asked?" She mutters, which falls on his deaf ears.

Not yours though.

You notice she's also started to press her boobs together with her arms, puckering her lips as she leans in to tease him, "I haven't seen your type around here yet."

Hyunjin pauses, his eyelashes lifting as drinks at his drink, "I have."

"You have?" She questions with a flirty giggle "Where?"

"Around," He drops his now empty bottle onto the counter, leaning over to request another to the bartender, "You want one, Y/N?"

"Hey! What about me?"

"You don't need another," Hyunjin rolls his eyes before acknowledging you kindly, "Y/N?"

You hold up your bottle with half the drink still left over to which he accepts without so much of a fuss, "Just me then, thanks bro."

"Aww, are you worried about me?" She hiccups. She does look somewhat cute, though all that cute is buried under the huge pile of undeserving. Underserving of Felix and his time. His love.

"If you drink more than I have to take you home and I'm enjoying myself so I'd rather not," He explains to which she pouts but thankfully accepts without another attempt to pull at his heart strings.

"OH MY GOD," She shouts to which you wince, "There's Park Seonghwa, he's a partner at the firm, I'll be right back!"

The two of you watch as she stumbles through the crowd confidently, both your expressions grim. You turn to him, opening your mouth, "Hyunjin?"

He bends himself lower so he can you a little better without straining, "Yeah baby?"

Bleugh.

"I want to go home," You tell him, managing to keep a straight faced expression and you're a little grateful he agrees too easily, already opening the Uber app. It doesn't feel good leaving the two of them alone together though...

And with how drunk she is...

"I'll walk you, c'mon," Hyunjin says, his hand clasping yours as he walks you to the entrance, towards the neon lit stairs you ventured up in search of the bar. And when the ringing in your ears becomes only a memory of the crowd you just escaped from, he returns his hands to his pockets like a gentleman.

"I hope you had fun," He muses.

"I did," You grunt, which has his eyes furrowing briefly before he sees you're having trouble coming down the staircase on your own. His shoes clack against the floor as he travels upstairs to meet you, hands outstretched and a gorgeous smile on his face.

"That's good then."

"Come with me?" You offer. His mouth opens and closes, and the smile slowly falls off his face and is replaced with confusion. Head tilting a little.

He must've heard you wrong.

But you've made a decision, right then and there.

Morally a good one? Arguably.

But it's a decision.

With held breath, your hand wraps around the nape of his neck to pull him into a kiss that has his breath hitching. His hair, thick enough to curl your digits through, tickling at his skin over and over again until you get sick of it. But it's so addictive, the thought is impossible. Because his hair is as soft as his lips are plush. Time has stopped and everything is quiet.

You open your mouth experimentally, letting him fill the gaps if he so pleases. One of his hands grips at your hips to pull you closer so you're flushed against his front and the other at your neck and his thumb at the curve of your jaw, teasing you with the possibility that he might just squeeze.

He tastes of a mixed alcohol, but you don't mind it, oddly enjoying the feeling of his lips more because of it. His kiss breathing new life into you.

Your hands are everywhere on his taut and lithe frame, obsessively attached to his hair just as his is addicted to the curl of your hips.

He presses harder into you, tongue brushing along yours in a way that has you swooning. He makes a low groan into your mouth at your compliance. The sound of it zipping straight to your core, heating the energy between you.

You don't want to pull away.

But you do.

"Come with me," You say again, your hands resting on his shoulders, eyes half lidded staring into the eyes that have already melted into your own. He's heaving, thick swollen lips and a gaze like fire, and your core calls him prey for it.

"Okay."

As soon as you cross the threshold of the hotel room, your back is against the wall of the living room, your hands following blindy as yhe leads you throughout the predictable layout, leaning away from you only to rest his forehead against yours.

When he opens his eyes, his gaze is on you and your hands have minds of their own as they squeeze at his waist.

You think he's going to utter a word when you lean upwards to kiss him this time. A sweeter kiss that he does his best to follow after. His hands no longer wandering along your body but cupping both cheeks in his large hands.

"Tell me you don't want it," He murmurs dazedly.

You can see how the kiss has gotten to him, and you can feel it. A weight resting on your stomach, but you can feel his restraint as it sticks to his fingertips, rendering them completely white.

"Why would I?" You whisper back, and Hyunjin swallows.

"Sometimes I'm not gentle," Hyunjin warns, cocking his head and his voice so low it makes your own stomach drop in anticipation.

"Sometimes neither am I," You challenge him back, to which he lifts one of your legs to wrap around his torso and he pushes against your core. Your eyes fluttering shut at the brush of friction against your underwear clad pussy.

"Last chance," He enunciates, his hand splaying out at your spine, and the other twirling his hands in naughty little circles at your ankles, trailing upwards with every second he counts down in his head.

At your silence, he squeezes at the meat of your thigh, "I'll take this as permission then..."

He seizes your lips rough making you feel oh so delicious inside. His hands, although feather like along the swell of your breasts and the thin sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh, strong against your hips when he grips them, punishing your pussy with a thrust of his hips against the fabric.

His kisses begin to paint you possessively from your mouth, in between your tits and up your throat, sucking at the skin as he sees fit. Devouring you until you're squirming against him in search of exposed skin to grind on until you're completely spent.

It's like he's made to devour you.

Your hands are strangely cold against the heat of his stomach, and he tenses at the way your nails scratch along every ridge of his muscles, groaning into your ear like some wild animal.

He can't help it.

He can feel how wet you are between your thighs and it's started to coat the front of his pants.

Daring him to rut against you.

He ruts a little, indulging into his desires to feel you twitch against him, but the whine you let out ruins the thin layer of his self control, crumbling and trashing it like nothing.

"Hyunjin," You're even pleading and he loves it. Every attempt to extend your sentence purposefully drawn in an attempt to attain your regret is halted by every experimental thrust and every brain fog inducing kiss.

He's drunk of this new feeling.

"Yeah baby, tell me," He teases, the movement of his lips quiet and ticklish at the surface of your chest.

"Ah-" Your eyes squeeze shut at a particular roll of hips, his mouth sucking at your breast, "I-"

"You-?" Hyunjin cocks his head, watching the way the pleasure he gives you extracts your soul and every shed of your identity leaving something completely primitive.

"Want it," You stutter pathetically, your underwear completely soaked through. There's no doubt in your mind that you want him right now and even if you had a chance, you wouldn't, not when it feels this good, "Want you."

He doesn't speak, only watches as you make your hushed pleas, sadistically challenging you with his heated gaze. With his eyes on you, his fingers pick at your soiled underwear, hooking it to the side and you feel your body tensing with need.

Fuck.

He feels like he won't last just by looking at you, and with just a slight breeze on your clit you feel like you won't last either.

With eyes still on you, he presses an open hand against your core, enjoying the way you jerk underneath his touch and the feeling of your arousal dripping down his hand. Your hips move on their accord, impatient with his waiting game of tease.

He loves the way you clench at nothing, your core wanting nothing more but to swallow his load.

"Asshole," You growl.

You even have a bit of a mouth on you.

Who knew?

"Hot as fuck," He praises, pulling his hand away to kiss at your pussy, the sounds lewd enough and the pleasure unreal. You pull at his hair, and he groans at the pain, delving deeper into your core, tongue swirling at the bud of nerves.

You begin to coat his lips.

His chin.

He enjoys it to the point of delusion.

He wants it.

He wants nothing more.

He pulls away with a pucker, letting you feast your eyes on his need for you. He makes no effort to wipe at his mouth, his hands falling to his pants to free himself. He's long and pretty. Much like the rest of him.

He sucks his bottom lip, sliding between your spread legs and slathering his cock with your arousal like never ending lube. He taps at your clit, like he's born to tease you.

You go to curse him out.

"Be patient," He orders, and the octave of his voice has your instant obedience. And like an obedient little thing, you watch him. Expect of him. Hope for him.

He palms himself, and you follow the movement like you can't wait for him.

"There's a traffic light system, heard of it?" Tapping at your clit with the tip of his cock. One. Two. Three.

A hitch of breath.

A jerk of your hips.

An impatient whine.

"Red, orange, green....Pick one."

"Hyunjin-"

"I'm not going to do anything until you pick one," He smirks, "C'mon, it's not hard to understand. Red means this all stops and green means the complete op-"

"Green!" You yell.

You don't think you could shout it any louder.

"-Posite," He feels wolfish, sliding into you and losing all control as you clench around him, walls warm and wet. You exhale and Hyunjin thinks if it were a drink, it would sustain him for the rest of his life.

He presses his lips to yours, cushioning the sounds that escape past your lips and distracting himself from coming too early.

He eases in and out of you, teeth gritting as your face morphs into all forms of enjoyment.

"Fuck," You curse at a particular dangerous roll of his hips that send butterflies out of your aching core, dragging him into your body. You squeeze at his arms so harshly and he winces at the crescent moons you create on his biceps.

He huffs out a pleasurable laugh, eyes dropping to the marks with a greedy reverie.

He thrusts harder, aiming at the spot that has your moans wanton and uncontrollable. He bites his lips until they're tightly shut, wanting to listen to only your moans until you cry. Fuck. He wants nothing more to join your songs of pleasure but he wants to hear you more.

He wants to hear it.

Couldn't bear to move on from this moment with that kind of regret.

He wants you in his ear. Your dirty and your filthy, he wants to hear it all.

But you, you wanted nothing more to hear his. Unsatisfied, your hands paw at his back, desperately dragging them down in an attempt to break through his restraint, rewarded by an unrestrained and whiny moan of his own.

"That's better," You muse, letting his sounds wash against you.

"You're so fucking dirty," He swears, grunting into the blush of your skin, his waist snapping into yours relentlessly. But it seems like you won, because, when you made that mark down his back he couldn't stop all his moaning and heaving.

At the tell tale sign of your incoming orgasm, your arms thread behind his shoulders and your legs tense around his frame, all the while he takes you all the way to heaven. His thrusts becoming sloppy as his body tenses.

He pulls out of you, jerking himself off until hot spurts of his come paint your whole chest and stomach.

He collapses onto the bed next to you, his forehead and hair doused in sweat and sex. Tried, you feel the foreshadowing of pain in your tender thighs and the dents in which his fingers grabbed at you so desperately.

The buzz of his phone brings up the volume of the room, save for his breathing, "Your phone buzzed."

He makes a noise of acknowledgement, "What's it say?"

"Code?"

"5188."

Felix's girlfriend. Asking about the two of you and where you got off to. If he was coming back.

With a slight curve of your lips, you reply for him, 'Found a girl. Sorry.'

You giggle, "I said you had 'found a girl.'

Hyunjin snorts, casting you a teasing look, and you take a pause for how truly handsome he is, "Way to make me sound shifty.'

"It's not wrong though," You chortle, your hands pointing back at yourself in display, "You did."

Hyunjin raises his eyebrows, his lips boyishly tilting upwards, "I did."

You smirk back at him as he stares at you. His gaze is fire, but it's not. It's all melty, something in his gaze that has you a little confused.

A little scared.

You're not sure you like it.

But you're sure you don't quite dislike it either.

When you awake in the morning, alone, you're not saddened. The brief confusion of last night's events tumble away like a passing thought. He left no note. No nothing. You suppose you should leave and head back home, because if there is one thing you're desperate for right now, it's a shower.

You pull on your clothes that are clearly worn and torn from the night before, a brief look in the mirror to make sure you're presentable and your feet struggling to fit into each shoe. Your thighs are tender and your feet weirdly swollen. You’re fucking limping. Seriously?

"I hope you aren't in a rush?"

At the teasing and levelled question, you follow the sound, startled when you see Hyunjin, classically handsome as ever resting his forearms on the kitchen counter with a plastic bag of goodies next to him.

"You brought...breakfast?" You frown, slightly surprised.

"Well I did just fuck you until you couldn't walk properly," He smirks, his stare pointed, "Think of it as basic aftercare, baby."

"You like a good pet name," You notice, cocking your head in a beckoning challenge.

He mirrors the sentiment with his own, "If the situation calls for it, yeah."

You chortle, folding your arms, ready to hear what kind of line he's curating in his head about this situation, "And what is this situation, exactly?

"I want this to be a regular thing. I'm here hoping you'd let me take you out and you have all the power to decide what you do with me," Hyunjin smacks his lips together and his confidence is there, charismatically and respectfully waiting for your input.

"Do you have to take out girls for this to be a regular thing?" You ask and Hyunjin's lips shrivel at the question.

"Girls? No," Hyunjin admits, "You though? Yeah."

You frown at him, staring in silence. The lingering feeling of last night making an unwelcome return.

"Uh."

The eyes that stare back at you are warm, rippling along the delicate nerves of your skin with comfort instead of the burning uncertain fire that accompanied you last night.

He bites at his lip and tugging at the ring secured around his finger, the one you gave to him just short of two years ago.

You tuck a stray hair behind his ear, and zero in on the way his eyes flutter at your touch.

"Minho," You call, too concerned by the way he leans into you.

His eyes open wide, remembering himself. He straightens in his seat, clothes pristine and elegant a stark contrast to your simple t-shirt and shorts.

You wonder if Jeongin wears these types of clothes now.

"We text now," Minho admits, staring at you in a way that makes you believe he's expecting something from you. Worried about your reaction, almost. Either way.... "Jeongin and I."

"That's great," You reply, "Does he call you hyung yet?"

"Not yet," Minho cocks his head and you can't help the gentle smile on your face, the action making his expression soften, "What's with that grin? Huh?"

"My brother's hard to win over, isn't he?"

The smile on his face is still there, but you can see the dwindle of the light that graced his face before.

You swallow, "-You know what I mean."

"No," Minho shakes his head, "He's still your brother."

You're silent. Too silent.

"He is," Minho asserts, hand gripping at your hands more firmly. Stomach churning at the crossroads you've lived to confront. To admit he's your brother is to-

"I've got to tell you something," You blurt.

"Yeah?" He sips at his wine, relaxing a little in his seat. Welcoming the change with open arms.

"I have a date with Hwang Hyunjin."

The rigidness of his frame, sends you into a spiral. Nonsense was spouted and now there is the discomfort that you and Minho tried to ignore.

"Hyunjin asked me out I think," You ramble, hands rolling in defence, "I don't know. This might help Felix."

"And you want to use Hyunjin to..." His tone tilts, "Do what exactly?"

You swallow, "Well....Maybe this way, I can remove Hyunjin from the equation."

He doesn't let on whether he's impressed or not. Truth is, neither are you. It was a plan concocted when you left Hyunjin's place, promising him you'll think about it.

"Are you mad?" You question, needing to know. Begging him to look at you.

He pauses, digits playing with the wine glass charm at the bottom of his glass, "I have no control over who you date or don't, Y/N."

You harshly swallow, conversation weighing on you like an ultimatum, "I don't want to lose you."

Minho sighs, his knuckles creasing in the skin of his forehead briefly, as if he's pained to then face you, any expression wiped away, "You won't lose me, Y/N. You won't lose him. No matter what your decisions are."

He breathes deeply, excusing himself from the table to go to the bathroom.

He pays for the light meal and the wine you shared.

Then kisses you lightly on the lips goodbye.

And you cry for hours on the cold floor of your bathroom.

Love is just wonderful.

But sometimes, sometimes it feels like it's not for you, terrorising you at every corner with complications and obstacles. Offering a man you love and can technically have but won't. Offering another man that you only plan to use for the morally challenged greater good.

Your first date with Hyunjin isn't what you imagine it'd be. Nor does it end in sex or anything of the sort.

The farm is spring. The epitome of spring. Rows and rows of pretty pastel colours that belong on some influencer's social media account. The sun is hot and beams straight onto you both.

"Wow," You mutter, "It's so hot."

"Yup," He agrees, then, he's touching you and for a minute all you can remember is what happened. Your breathing hitches at how easily he touches you. Only to realise he's rubbing in sunscreen to your exposed skin. With a single finger, he paints a line down the expanse of your cheek, letting you rub the cream in yourself.

"What was that?"

"Can't have my date exposed to skin cancer on our first can I?" Hyunjin teases.

"And what about you?" You scoff, pointing out his pale skin, "You're more likely to burn, no?"

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, before slathering his own skin with a good dollop of sunscreen, letting it smooth all over. Smiling to yourself, you eagerly take the opportunity to paint a smiley face onto his rounded cheeks and exposed nape of his neck. He shudders at the feeling, stumbling clumsily away from the sensation.

"You're a cheek," Hyunjin calls, taking note of your teasing and rubbing in your art making you pout, "Hey can we get four punnets, please?"

"Absolutely. Our strawberry farms are in the greenhouse tents at the end, but apart from that every section will have the name of the berry on the sign. So just keep an eye out. The price is also determined by the weight."

"Thanks," He charms the worker before you follow him all while he shows you the empty containers with nothing other than joy.

The strawberry tent is slightly wet and the grass squelches as you walk on it, the sound bringing a grimace to your face. Strawberries are plentiful and the red bleeds onto the crevices of the green.

"You know the proper way to pick them?" You ask, the words causing him to lean a little further into you and your space.

"Teach me?" He says with a smile you can't quite trust.

You grip at the strawberry softly, forefinger and middle finger embracing the flesh with support from your thumb, "We want the chicken claw pose then lift it....you listening?"

He smiles, head falling onto the crown of your head, lips quirking, "I'm listening..."

"And then.." At the crisp sound of the stalk separating from the fruit, you smile in satisfaction. All the while Hyunjin smiles at how sweet you are.

He bites his lip when you watch him expectantly, eyes never leaving him as he reaches for a single juicy looking strawberry, his eye contact zig zagging continuously between you and the fruit, "Like this?"

You smile, pleased, "Yeah."

With that you fill the container, both of you sharing one of the biggest strawberries you've ever seen in your life. With the juice running down your fingers, Hyunjin smirks before leaning forward to take a bite of the strawberry, his bottom lip brushing against your thumb.

You intake a sharp breath, his whole body up against yours, leaning into you and you're worried about how much he'll see. How he'll immediately notice the way your heart pounds against your rib cage and how much your eyes struggle to make eye contact when he's so close and his gaze so heated.

That fire.

"It's really so good," Hyunjin murmurs, the words licking at you with lust and seduction. You swallow, afraid to look at him.

"Let's go to the blueberries," You demand, walking out of the tents at a faster pace than you would've originally.

You don't hear Hyunjin laugh, but you can almost see the smile that's brought to his face at the sheer fact that whatever game he was playing...you've lost.

You're a lot less gentle with the blueberries, your playful demeanour dormant underneath all the bashfulness you're parading. It's cute, the way you haven't stopped looking at him. So even if you haven't been speaking to him for almost twenty minutes now, he'll take it as a win.

"I'm sorry," He nudges you with his shoulder a little, secretly wanting to see you pout that whole time he's with you.

You furrow your eyebrows harder, harsh lines across your forehead like a failed attempt putting a screensaver on a phone. He's pretty sure your neck has veins with the severity of your 'anger'.

"Huh?" Hyunjin smacks his lips to attempt from smiling, "What do I have to do for you to forgive me?"

"Give me that jumper," You say at once, so fast he struggles to distinguish what it was you said exactly.

HIs gaze drops to his white Versace jumper, hesitantly turning toward you. A little confused but too curious.

Damnit.

His lips quirk, "Why the jumper?"

“I want it. I’ve never had Versace,” You hold your hand out like a spoiled little brat, beckoning him to move with the flick of a finger.

Hyunjin exhales, looking around at the rows of shrubs and a cooling sky, before he looks at you. Again, “Except you’re looking at me, Y/N.”

You open your mouth, only for his next words to completely blindside you, “And with the way you’re looking at me….I can’t be sure it’s the jumper you want…”

He’s teasing you, with that little smirk he has. It’s almost like he’s taunting you. So try again. Better luck next time!

Shit fucking-

You turn back to the shrubs filling the blueberries with speed and precision and Hyunjin follows you, amusement painted on him like a second skin at your demise. He reaches for the containers out of your hands, leading you to the thick crowd of bush at a back section, adorned with blackberries.

You join him, his eyes dancing with light as he swivels around slightly to face you, “Decided to join me?”

“I’m just making sure you pick the good ones, Hyunjin,” You deny, face turning away to hide your smile.

“How do you know I won’t?” Meanwhile Hyunjin wears his grin with glimmering pride. He picks at the blackberries, enjoying the taste of one.

You don’t say anything, opting that silence is the best comeback you could have right now, only to fluster at his next words.

“Glad to see you use my name,” He raises an eyebrow, “I didn’t think you knew it.”

You snort, “Don’t be so dramatic. I’ve called you by name so many times. I’m not going to call you Philip, am I?”

“More often than not you don’t say my name, you avoid it even,” He comments, his thoughts glossing his eyes over, “At least that’s what it feels like.”

“...I don’t mean to? I don’t think I do that… You noticed?”

“How couldn’t I?” Hyunjin shrugs again, feigning a neutral expression as he fills the container up, one by one.

“I’m sorry,” You apologise, the silence is loud. So loud and awkward and gangly, sitting there at your table with twitchy joints.

“So I like it,” Hyunjin glances at you meaningfully, “I’d like to hear it more from you.”

“Okay,”

You walk together with your three full containers to where the raspberries are planted. They’re all plump and a reddish purple colour and they look so good you’re tempted to just eat more than collect.

“..Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin’s head flickers to yours in surprise before a warm smile creeps onto his face. It’s so warm that your own look turns bashful and you almost forget the reason you wanted his attention entirely, “Yeah, Y/N?”

“Uh- Do you like raspberries?”

“Raspberries? I don’t mind them. I’m more of a strawberry guy.”

You screw your face up in a little bit of judgement and quickly turn away from him, returning to the raspberries.

“What? What’s wrong with strawberries?” Hyunjin snorts, unable to let go of your judgement but also not offended. Not at all. Anything to get you talking.

“It’s just a bit basic, that’s all,” You shrug, and Hyunjin’s face is a bit more offended now but it’s cooled just as quickly as it arrives because you’ve got a teasing look on your face.

“Right well,” Hyunjin pouts, picking up his stuff to create distance.

“Hey!” You plead, “It’s not a bad thing!”

“Could’ve fooled me!”

“Hyunjin,” You whine, “Come back, I need help getting up, my legs are dead.”

“That’s just a bit basic, Y/N, love,” He drawls, appearing like the Cheshire Cat from Alice In Wonderland.

“Hyunjin,” You whine back.

He laughs, dawdling back in front of you, watching you pathetically reach both your arms out towards him. His hands grip at your forearms pulling you upwards and you stumble back into him.

“You’ve gotta stop trying this method to get me to be into you, Y/N,” He baits, not even waiting for your reply. You scoff as he turns away from you, filling his container so fast it makes your own container look pathetic.

Feeling competitive, you speed past him, filling your own with raspberries to the tune of his laughter and later his own competitiveness to the point of overflow.

The two of you are heaving, comparing each other’s containers with a cautious eye, decidedly agreeing that the two of them are rather equal. Though personally you suspect that your own is a little more full.

“Woah,” Hyunjin exhales a breath of surprise, eyeing at his fingers that are a deep red and purple. You giggle, eyeing your own. The marks don’t reach further than your fingers like he does but they are a lot darker with a lot more coverage.

You line up your fingers near his hand so he can see.

His eyebrows furrow a little, before he rummages into his pocket to pull out his phone. You drop your hand but he pulls it back, angling the phone to a better angle. He smiles as he takes the photo and you feel a little bit like you’re the victim of a spell.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“Shall we go?” Hyunjin asks and you can’t help but agree quickly, squashing the feeling inside of you so deep you disassociate for the rest of the trip home.

When you return home, a little tired that your eyes are fluttering close even before the door closes shut, you’re surprised by how quiet the house is, save for the quiet humming of the TV.

“Felix!” Changbin yells from the room, “Felix!”

You pause, deciding whether you should leave him and take the nap you want to indulge in or to tell-

With a sigh, you follow the incessant calls of Felix’s name, until you’re in front of him, “Ah-not Felix. Where is….everyone?”

“Oh shit sorry,” Changbin apologises, “Felix was gonna drop by to his missus to drop something off-”

You roll your eyes.

“-And your parents go out every so often to have a little time to themselves. Keep the romance alive. Gross, I know.”

“It’s cute actually,” You muse, too used to older people ruining each other over and over again.

“I thought you were with Minho?” Changbin inquired, turning down the volume for the TV.

You lean against the wall, “Why’s that?”

“I know you said he isn’t your boyfriend but you clearly have feelings for each other,” Changbin commented further.

You laugh, “Are all these questions because you’re watching Love Island?”

“And if I said yes?”

“Then I’ll just assume that you’re projecting,” You huff out a little giggle, walking off to your own room and the confines of your space.

“Y/N!” He yells after you, but doesn’t make an effort to follow.

“Good night!”

You fall asleep with a soft smile on your face, no tingles but a blanket of warmth to protect you.

The second date you were actually genuinely excited for. Hyunjin picked you up, adoringly gazing upon your smile that lit the whole sky up.

“That’s a pretty smile,” Hyunjin comments, pushing the handbrake down.

“I’m excited,” You reply, practically bouncing in your seat.

“Oh really? I couldn’t tell after you practically forced me to tell you what we were doing today,” Hyunjin recalls, mind rewinding back to the night before when he had sent a cute mysterious text.

Dark coloured pants. Dark coloured jumper. Sneakers tomorrow. Trust me x

Unfortunately for him, it didn’t stay all that cute and mysterious, because you called him.

“I want to know,” You demanded.

“I’m not gonna tell you,” Hyunjin snorted.

“Tell me or I’ll come tomorrow wearing a tutu and a bright ass top,” The sound of your threat put a smile on his face.

“You can try if you want, Y/N,” Hyunjin laughed, “Either way you’re gonna look really pretty.”

“Hyunjin, please.”

He swallowed, momentarily caught in surprise. Shit.

He’s reached a new level of low.

He’s folding THIS early?

“Hyunjiiiiiin,” You double down, catching quick onto his dilemma. His tongue prodded into his cheek, eyebrows furrowing at his resolve completely fading at two little words.

“Paintballing,” He blurted, “....We’re going paintballing.”

Suddenly, there was no sound. It was quiet and he felt his blood pressure drop. Did you hate the idea of paintballing? He hoped not because he had booked it spontaneously and-

“Really?” The question came out like a summer fruit, so good and so energetic that it made his heart flutter.

“Yeah,” He sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose self consciously.

“I’m gonna go pack!”

“Okay.”

“Bye Hyunjin. Thank you.”

He stared at his phone for five minutes after the call ended, the smile on his face never once dropping and his excitement for the next day at an all time high.

You were bouncing with excitement all the way to the hut, and Hyunjin places both hands on your shoulders when it seemed to reach heights that distracted him from hearing the rules.

“You’re cute,” Hyunjin muses, whispering into your ear, “But I can’t hear the rules and I’d hate to accidentally shoot you.”

You frown, muttering, “Not if I shoot you first.”

Hyunjin smirks, letting his hands slightly drop from your shoulders but didn’t make an effort to back away from you. Neither did you move away from him, shivering pleasantly because of the warmth he provided in the wild breeze that ventured from every corner of the paintball course.

“You’re green team,” The instructor says, handing you over two green bands to tie around your wrist. You peer around the area scanning both friend and foe, letting Hyunjin tie them.

“Luckily we got green and not…” You enunciate, eyeing the yellow team with an almost cruel observation.

“You’re competitive,” Hyunjin comments, fastening the band around your wrist. You fasten him with a look, which in turn has his own smile getting wider.

“Hey,” Another couple sidles up to you, the girl leaning in to make a comment, “I noticed one of the couples has a limp so-”

As you both add to the observations, the guy bundles up next to Hyunjin, watching the two of you discuss tips and thoughts.

“First time here?”

“Hmm?” Hyunjin whips his head towards him, smiling slightly, “Yeah. I didn’t know she’d be this into it.”

“Neither,” The guy laughs, “Now we come here every month.”

“Woah,” Hyunjin chuckles, “I’m Hyunjin.”

“Soobin,” The guy introduces himself, stretching his back, “How long have you been a couple?”

“Not dating,” Hyunjin sighs, “I’m grafting for it though.”

“Good on you,” Soobin nods, smiling at his girlfriend as she drags you into the toilet, no doubt commenting that there will be no time for bathroom breaks in the middle of a war, “Good luck out there. I suggest going to the toilet while you can.”

Hyunjin finds himself glad at the conversation. He likes talking about you, though brief and slightly irrelevant, he can’t help but think it’s the start of something. He loves the thought that you may be into him. He loves slow progress. The everything. The way your smile has begun to get bigger and how you’ve begun to lean on him and direct him.

He’s into it.

He’s into you.

The first game he gets hounded by you. Scolded for having his head in the clouds. But he’s too busy being too whipped to care. He doesn’t think you notice how protective you get of him, escorting him across the course with the mentality of a bodyguard.

The second game, he’s still being protected. All until you’re all out of pallets and you get a taste of how much paintball actually hurts.

“Ow, fuck,” You curse, squeezing at the flesh of your stomach, only to then be shot in the hand and face, whipping you completely away of your focus and your protective gear loosening.

“Woah, you alright?” Hyunjin angles his body in front of the line of fire, his hand raising upwards in concern. The shots cease temporarily, their shouts undetectable but the warning clear.

“Yeah, I’m going to get this fixed,” You wince, your fingers acknowledging the disarray of your hair, before stepping away to raise both hands in the air.

He watches you leave carefully, before he’s alone again and the game continues. He exhales, leaning against the thick crust of the bush before taking aim.

“I severely underestimated you,” You observe, a bit of dirt lining the edges of your face and hands.

His lips quirk upwards, “I only had to get revenge for my girl.”

“Hwang,” You growl, though the laugh sticks to your throat.

“Lee.”

“I’ll be watching you,” You girls eye the line of men that are lined up on the other side before exchanging tactics.

“My man, he’s big and can’t hide for shit.”

“He’s got a limp, he’ll be out first. We even had a bet on it so please aim for him.”

“My ma- guy, he looks pathetic but don’t be fooled. He’s pretty but he’s a good shot,” You comment to the expectant eyes. The teasing eyes of Arin cannot be missed.

“Your ma-guy,” Arin giggles to which your eyes narrow.

“Not falling for it,” You dismiss her, feeling bashful as her giggles shake at your fortitude of protection.

It’s all fun and by the end of it, you feel you have new friends in Soobin and Arin and a couple of the other couples. You even opt to have lunch together that day, spontaneity in your blood as you order three servings of deliciously marbled meat.

It’s even more worth it, that although Hyunjin drops you off down the street from your house, you smile like you never have before at him, “I had fun.”

“Me too,” He looks at you with some sort of smile that has you smacking your lips, suddenly shy.

“Bye,” You wave at him, trailing away from the car little by little, aware that he keeps an eye on you until he knows you made it home safely.

You open the door with a massive sigh, pausing at the smirk on Changbin’s face as you step foot through the wide passageway.

“You look happy,” Changbin comments, biting his lip teasingly.

With a grin still on your face, you point a finger at him, “Keep your mouth shut, Seo Changbin.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Changbin chortles, poking a finger into your side, the same side that had been victim of continuous paint abuse.

You wince and giggle, as if your body is confused by how it should continue. Changbin raises his eyebrow, “What was that?”

“Nothing,” You say, jerking away from his attempt at possibly pressing on another bruise.

Changbin nods his head in faux agreement, before he doubles down, fingers slightly pressing on each shoulder. You shy away from him, stepping backwards, Changbin cornering you.

“What the hell?”

The two of you whip your heads to Felix, eyes widening at the sight of Changbin backing you up against the wall. A huge misunderstanding. Truly.

“So…you two?”

“No it’s not like that,” You shake your head.

“It’s really not, dude, we were just playing around,” Changbin shrugged, “She’s ticklish.”

Felix pauses, hesitates and then accepts. Then goes to tell you something with his head cocked, and you worry he’ll be stuck like that, “Pizza’s ready.”

You hurry past the two boys, heat flushing your skin.

“So you really aren’t?” Felix leaned into Changbin when you were gone from view.

“No, dude,” Changbin snorted.

Felix accepted it and found he didn’t entirely hate it. Definitely didn’t like it, but hate it? Surprisingly he didn’t.

Food for thought.

The third date was the most typical and the type of first date you'd expect from a teenager but you liked it all the same.

You'd love it if he hadn't won the first game...

And wasn't winning now.

"Wow, okay you're really not going easy on me," You comment as he receives another spare, walking away from the lane with a wicked smile on his face that tickles at the organ in your chest.

He chuckles, "After paintball? I won't make that mistake."

Your nose crinkles in displeasure, but for a moment it makes you grin. You like what he said. You like how he said it. Everything about it.

You throw the ball, hoping luck would be on your side, but the oil and grease that coats the lanes proved stronger, the ball led straight into the gutter. Gutter of the lane and the gutter in your stomach.

Shit.

Hair tickles against your chin as the smug handsome devil leans over you, "Honestly I thought you had that."

You hurl your shoulder back in defiance, only to hear his laughter, melodious in your ear. It should be annoying, and it is, but it also feels like the most fun you've ever had.

Every morning of a bowling alley in your memories felt loaded. The earliest involves that of your loosely attached adults, many after that where you and Jeongin grappled with grief and despair and a sense to right wrongs. The memories before containing Minho....

Now...

He's the first one that doesn't matter to you. Shouldn't matter to you. You had hoped to bring Felix here first, but Hyunjin brought you here instead, a small crinkling of fate sprinkled over the two of you.

And he's here and he's completely thrashing you at a game you had self-confessed expert level skills. In your bowling home.

However, a thought runs through your head so dark and rampant, the lights could have flickered at the sheer intensity.

Creeping behind him, you place a hand on his shoulder, only removing it when he turned around with a curious yet satisfied fat grin on his face.

You enjoy it more than you should.

He freezes underneath the feel of your lips on his, reminding him of the moment a couple of weeks ago when you first kissed him like this. His eyebrows furrowing in thought, he pushes gently at your shoulders.

"Do you always kiss guys to get what you want?" His mouth opens and his tongue licks at the corner of his mouth, displeasure dancing in his irises. You love it. You can't help it. You want to poke at his emotions with a stick, like he's your own personal Frankenstein's monster.

"And if i say an answer you don't want to hear?" You smirk, lips curling deviously at the snarl transforming his face.

He scoffs out a fake laugh, "Try it."

"Okay, I ki-" You're interrupted by the way his arms snake possessively around your waist, pulling you into a bruising kiss that leaves your lips swollen and your head all over the place. Your arms hanging loosely by your sides as you come to terms with it all.

He finishes the round with a double strike and a score that almost doubles yours.

"Yet," He whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear, "I still won."

He straightens up, and you're left to watch him as he walks back to the car in which he dropped you off. You want nothing more than to wipe that look on his face, but you're also severely attracted to him at the minute and it feels dangerous.

"Are we exclusive?" He asks, tone back to the octave you could combat against. His fingers tap on the wheel of the car in a relaxed sort of way.

"Not yet," You deny him, watching to see if his face will change like it did inside or if he'd surprise you again.

But it doesn't happen.

He nods, fingers ghosting along his lips almost like he's rubbing the kiss you two shared right in your face. You narrow your eyes at him, staring at the smug look on his face.

He knows exactly what you're thinking of.

Where you're looking.

"I'll see you next time then, Y/N."

His hands are strong, but the way he holds your face is gentle, a contrast to the intensity of his kiss. You follow the best you can, his mouth drawing out the most pathetic whimpers from your throat.

His touch follows down the length of you arm, goosebumps spreading throughout your entire body that you feel like you're floating. He grounds you, placing his hand onto the flesh of your thigh and letting his lips and tongue paint you in tingles.

His frame slots in between your legs, the warmth of his body sending a shock straight to your core.

You're hungry for him.

Always.

But there's an incessant knock on the back of your head, your subconscious persistent.

"What's wrong?" You whisper, lips plump.

He doesn't say anything, breath heaving and body tensing in a way that implies that he heard you. That he doesn't feel comfortable. He licks at his lips and the change in him has you concerned. You cup his face with your hand, watching as he leans into your touch, basking in you.

"Minho," You call, now slightly worried. His eyes open and your heart softens. He's so beautiful.

He presses forward to capture you in a kiss again, eyes closing unconsciously as he pours every bit of passion from his heart into you. You kiss back as you feel your heart open to swallow him whole, thoughts forgotten at the familiarity.

Arousal pools in your underwear as he hands travel lower, gripping at your shirt to pull you closer. His body strong against you. Your hands collect in his hair, soft strands that you swear felt different-

You frown, rising to meet his pace with your own, willing to squash the thought and indulge fully in Minho. With a lewd smack, his mouth dips towards your exposed throat, sucking at the skin. A particularly bruising suck, and then he rips at your shirt with a quick promise to buy you a replacement, but you don’t care.

Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of his lips gravitating towards your chest, dipping down the valleys and small freckles you didn’t even know existed. With a shaky inhale, “Minho.”

He pauses, left hand dug deep into the fabric of your clothes and the right hand twisting at the waistband of your underwear, desperate.

It worries you as much as it does lick at your sex drive.

His desperation.

You want it.

Minho’s eyes flicker upwards to meet yours in an intense stare. Biting at his lips, he straightens his posture, form looming over yours with barely restrained tension, “Jeongin…he’s never gonna be what he should….”

His words and his eyes, they all feel so heavy all of a sudden, drooping from your heart like a fat teardrop.

“But you-” He swallows, “You’re the only thing I’m sure of.”

Your stare implores into his eyes, glazed with feeling and you’re the one to kiss him first. Soft and sweet, until it isn’t and it’s just as hungry as it was before. This time, only more loaded.

Everything is a team effort.

You rip at his shirt as you try to remove it from his upper body, revealing a strong chest and a stomach that calls to be marked up by your nails and your lips and your arousal. His arms envelop you and your moan is guttural as your hands slip around his shoulder blade and feel his muscle thrum underneath your touch, his skin raising in anticipation.

You lift your waist as he peels your underwear from your body, legs locking impatiently to which he has to hold down at your hungry waist.

His eyes are the danger to your hunger, promising to feed you with his cock and growling at the way he slips past your swollen lips and down your aching throat. You suck him until his eyes start to droop and you wouldn’t have stopped. You didn’t want to. But he wanted a different story.

He kisses at your pussy, admiring how it glistens with every lick and suck. Every kiss. How your thighs start to shake as he groans into your core, tongue fucking you just to see how unsettled you get.

You’re wild, nameless and unashamed. Begging for him like a bitch in heat.

“Put it in,” You hear pleading, it’s you but it doesn’t feel like you.

“I could,” Minho nods, “Or I do what I want.”

His fingers sink into your pussy, almost moaning at how warm and wet you are. You moan, “Min-fuck.”

He grins now, his lips latching onto your clit in order to bring you to orgasm. You tremble underneath his order, hips jerking uncontrollably at your orgasm. You’re moaning and whining and every word is now replaced with curse words.

“Oh,” You cry as he brings you to climax, fireworks exploding and colours you can’t name attacking you like thunder, “Min….”

With a final kiss he separates from you, watching your chest heave and attempt to return to normal. Skin blotchy with varying degrees of delicious heat across your legs and chest, looping around your heart and your ears.

You smile and are rewarded by the type of sparkly grin only he can wear, mischief playing games in his dark brown pupils.

He is beautiful and he is love.

“Min-fuck, huh?” He chuckles to which you can’t help but attempt to bring him closer, wanting to feel his warmth.

“You should legally change it,” You playfully suggest and you love that his laugh trinkles all parts of you, as if your body is wired to him.

“Should I now?” He smiles, finger pointing playfully into your naked exposed chest, grin widening as you giggle in reply. You love it.

You hate it when you can see the eventual grin fade into the hooded look that terrified you earlier. It terrifies you even more when he closes his eyes so you can’t see it.

“Min-”

“You ready to go again?” Minho looks at you, soft in the eyes but tense everywhere else.

You nod, letting his hands squeeze at your thighs, head tilting as he runs the tip of his cock along the thick paste of the highs he can take you to, body welcoming the familiar fullness as he sinks into you, thrusting experimentally.

You whine, opening your legs wider to encourage him to take his own pleasure from you. But he doesn’t need it, not when he fucks you like he owns you and controls the rate of your pleasure.

He thrusts forward, meeting your hips and mouth dropping in focus, breathing heavy as skin slaps against skin.

You make eye contact with him, the connection between you a neon blue. Without a word, he buries his face into your neck and his cock into your core. Dragging you closer to the high once again, your pussy sopping.

As you both are brought closer to orgasm, your bodies start to move in a frenzy, the decorum dropping as the both of you become more and more starved. His fingers curl into your hair harshly, simultaneously thrusting and rubbing against your clit.

You come with a moan, followed three seconds later by the stutter of his hips and his sharp exhale. He’s hungry as he kisses you, unrecognisable as he devours you into a kiss that leaves you dumb, kissing as you both come down from your high.

He sleeps beside you that night and you huddle to seek his warmth. Seek Minho. Escape the outside world like you have done so many times before. Feeling his love and your love. Your proper love. Feeling it in this room and despairingly begging not to feel it anywhere else.

The face you see isn’t the one you’ve seen all week, but the one who has yearned to see you. That had passed on a girl trying to get in his pants last week and had aired a constant fuck without your knowledge.

The car you see is also a new one. You pause, open mouthed as you study the sleek sports car in front of you, not being able to name it but appreciating it all the same.

“Is this your car?”

Hyunjin shakes his head, admitting with buried shame, “No.”

“Then why are you in it?” You laugh, your eyes on him now, studying him like he’s some sort of enigma.

“It’s not like I’m trying to date you or anything….” He bites his lip, staring at you with a look that flusters you to your core.

His eyes don’t sparkle like you’re expecting, but they’re lined with something alluring and pull you in with promises that ring in your ears. Sharp in places that are soft, and soft in places that are sharp. A freckle in a place that’s new.

He smiles, letting it grow as he puts the car into drive, following the road with his heart fluttering at an uncontrollable level.

“So what are we doing today?” You ask when you just can’t handle his smile any longer.

He peeks at the console in between you, pressing the button to reveal a single cardboard cut card. You raise an eyebrow, reaching greedily for it. You catch yourself, eyeing at the cute little drawing at the start.

“Did you draw this?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re talented,” You smile at him before flicking the card over to read the contents, “Mini scavenger hunt must do ... .date is not over until all is completed. Sounds a bit…trappy.”

“Baby, my forte is sketching not writing,” He sasses, turning the steering wheel left, “Read on.”

“Must pose in these four positions for a photo ... Try a food the colour of our outfits,” You peek at the abundance of green you’re wearing and his red jacket, “Oh thank god. Buy a present for each other….”

Hyunjin watches as you read each sentence carefully, devising a game plan already, “Do you wanna do the photobooth first and finish with the present?”

At the first instance that your face changes, he rushes to add, “There’s no timer or anything. It’s just a date between us two.. No secret other teams you need to worry about.”

You kiss your teeth in displeasure, shoving at him with your hand lightly, “I wasn’t thinking that!”

Hyunjin raises his eyebrows in defiance, “Mmm sure.”

You pout, letting him lead you to the main collection of stores and cute little date stops, he holds your hand quick in comparison to the way your eyes dance between the little cute headbands and soft plushies at the wake of the photobooths.

The photobooth is a lot more comfier than expected, tight enough you can feel the details of Hyunjin’s arms through the fabric of his blouse and the way his heart bleats in his chest. You school your face enough that Hyunjin won’t be able to tell it flusters you, to have him this close.

But he’s not playing fair, because when his large hands wrap you within his hold and his chin rests on the crown of your head, it’s an embrace you associate with someone else. An embrace you associate with love and the fear overruns you.

Hyunjin is beautiful. His lips are plush and always have you begging for them almost. An unseen power you’ve never felt before. Even with Minho. But Minho is also someone you can’t really have, morally, socially…

Hyunjin is a game. You know that, and yet you don’t want to separate from him. It’s easy to be with him. Too easy. So easy you forget about Felix for more than one moment. You forget about Minho.

You’re a girl with a boy that can. Can do all the things he’s doing with you. Who could probably kiss the shit out of you in this photo booth and take off running with the evidence. Could show Felix, and it wouldn’t be the same.

So you let Hwang Hyunjin hold you.

Hold you like he’s in love.

Hold you like you’re in love.

And perhaps a part of you is… in love with him, that is. Or in love with the feeling, all the more, you took those photos with new heat in your cheeks and enjoyment in the way your skin skimmed against his with every movement. The way his throat bobbed and his voice made the hair on the back of your neck shift. How the bones stiffened and rewired themselves to fit his frame against your back.

He leads you through the mall, the abundance of the throng becoming more prominent as you get closer to the food court. A shoulder almost barging into you within a second, Hyunjin too occupied with his own obstacle to catch it early enough.

“Woah,” He mutters, glaring at the harsh pull of someone barging into you a second time, “The fuck.”

He’s half a second away from digging the jewel of his expensive ring into the dude’s gut with a thick slab of burning lava to embalm the pain when you pull him away from his anger. A coolness washing over him as you pull him closer to you. You wrap yourself around him like he’s your protector and it’s so cute.

Too much, you’re too much.

“Can we eat in the car?” You plead so quietly that Hyunjin almost misses what you say. But he agrees wordlessly as his eyes flick across every option for what looks the best or what has the smallest line.

“What do you want? I can get it and you can go to the car if you want?” Hyunjin offers.

You shake your head, digging further into his body and he almost forgets he’s in the middle of foot traffic, “Let’s get whatever.”

He nods, pulling you towards a small snack shack in the corner run by a kind elderly woman and her middle-aged son. The pair greet you warmly and it instantly has you a lot calmer than the rest of the food court. Hyunjin is grateful as he orders, the son has you in a polite but distracting conversation and he gets to hold your hand whilst he does it.

“I hope you get married!” The elderly woman cheers at the pair of you as soon as Hyunjin orders, her grin wide and toothy.

“Mum! I’m so sorry!” Her son warns, before he apologetically smiles, “Sorry she’s a little traditional and nosy.”

Hyunjin is a little flustered, eyes wide open but quick to play along, leaning forward, “Only time will tell, Halmeoni.”

The lady’s mouth rounds into a teasing ‘O’ and he loves the way your expression drops in complete surprise, tripping over yourself as he leads the two of you away once again, “You’re insane.”

“I’m aiming for exclusivity, baby, get used to it.”

Even you can’t control the smirk that crosses your face at the teasing snark.

You instantly let out a sigh as you sit in the quiet and calm car, the only noise being Hyunjin’s door as he closes it, enveloping the two of you in a world of brown paper bags filled with greasy salty and sweet snacks and a spicy bowl of tteokbokki.

Hyunjin snorts, holding up the sad excuse of two baby toothpicks and one set of chopsticks, “I think that lady was really trying to raise the marriage rates.”

“She wouldn’t have if you hadn’t been egging her on,” You assert, tone lowering in a faux sense of righteousness.

“You had every opportunity to let go of my hand and you didn’t,” Hyunjin sassed, frowning as his mouth opened to let some of the good food in.

“How did you even come up with the photobooth idea and the- wait, we didn't get anything green!” You grumble, looking at the lack of green with the severity of homicide.

“We got something red, it’s fine,” Hyunjin laughs.

“No but the note said-”

“Forget the note, okay? It was a little fun and it was just an idea that I got from someone,” Hyunjin shrugs.

“Oh who?” You cock your head.

“Felix’s girlfriend,” Hyunjin adds, dipping the toothpick into another tteok greedily, missing the way your expression slightly changes for a fraction of a second.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Asked her for some ideas and she was so nosy about it too, asked if she knew you,” Hyunjin chewed, and pettily you made a note that he didn’t eat so pretty, “I said it was none of her business and she had a go at me.”

“Had a go at you?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin nods, “I apologised, obviously.”

You nod, silence filling the gap between you to a timescape that exceeds comfort. But Hyunjin, a dumb boy, of course suspects anything but the reason to be the problem.

“If it bothers you so much I can go get something green,” Hyunjin offers, reading your face all wrong.

You shake your head, unruly thoughts running amok between the two of you. The three of you.

“Let’s just do the next one, what is it?”

“Presents for each other.”

You let it distract you and it does have a reasonable impact. You slowly but surely forget about what had transpired in the car. You had played with the idea of buying him something you’re pretty sure everybody likes generally but you couldn’t let the tin of water colour pencils out of your head.

You picked it up, thumbing at the dips of the letters and the raised darkened lines that surround them, mouth puckered in thought.

Sighing, you let the tin fall into the basket, buying the pencils with only a polite smile but overall a terrible mood.

You sit at the meeting area first, mood sporadically increasing and decreasing in positivity all throughout, waiting for him to come meet you with a straight face, peering at the pencils indifferently.

Indifferently.

Easier said, harder to do when the guy you’re mad at with no right to, confidently strolls to meet you with a smile that lights up the world. So bright and kind and everything, you forget the reason you’re mad at him. He holds up the bag with a grin, and you hold back your bag.

Surprisingly, when he sees you he can’t control his excitement, cupping your face in an attempt to withhold it, “Now…”

You raise an eyebrow, “Now?”

He furrows his eyebrows but his grin is too wide to hold any guilt, “I didn’t just buy it, okay. I thought about it. Carefully.”

“What?”

He pulls his bag around his frame, pulling the contents out in front of you, your eyes widening at the fucking camera he holds in front of you, “Woah, Hyunjin, huh? huh?”

He smiles even wider than you thought was possible, his first impression completely dissipating the brighter it gets.

“Hyunjin, I can’t- I can’t accept this,” You shake your head, making no attempts to grab it.

“I told you, I picked it out carefully. You’ve got an eye for it but if you don’t want it you can give it to someone el-”

“No but,” You dig your hands in your own bag to pull out the tin, “I brought you pencils… I even thought they were too expensive.”

“And I love them,” Hyunjin fondly smiles at you, “Thank you.”

So fucking sweet about it.

“Here, you keep them both,” You decide, placing them back into your bag and holding them out to him. He reaches forward, picking at the present you got him, speeding into a fast walk and abandoning the expensive ass camera and its bag on the ground.

“Hyunjin!” You exclaim, voice reaching a new octave you’ve never reached ever in your life.

“Sorry, can’t hear you, if you don’t want it, just leave it there, I guess someone will accept my gift!”

“Hyunjin!”

Jeongin looks nothing like them, and you’re glad that the only thing you have left from that time of your life, the only thing you ever wanted from them is not tainted. He's lost a bit of weight in his face, and his features are a lot sharper than a couple of months ago. But he’s healthy. So incredibly healthy.

He’s smiling.

Like he’s your baby again.

“Noona,” His tone has a curl in it now, throaty in a way that puberty is caring for it by playing with it, nothing like the high tone he carried before, “I can’t accept this.”

You smile, the similarities between you are bittersweet, “You can.”

“I can’t. This looks expensive,” He observes, holding up the camera box to his eye level.

“Don’t worry about that,” You huff, “It was a present.”

“From Minho?” He asks, head tilting and you’re a little sad by it.

“No.”

He frowns, concern flashing in his eyes in a way it shouldn’t at seventeen, but one you’ve seen too many times from him to count, “You’re not doing anything stupid, are you noona?”

“No,” You laugh, a cry caught in your cheeks, “No, I’m okay.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, Jeongin,” You laugh, “Ahh, look at you being all responsible for your older sister.”

“You can’t stop me. You’re my sister, Y/N. Mine.”

With tears in his eyes, you can’t help but join in, dragging him into your embrace, letting your whole body soak up the shit the two of you have gone through together.

“Absolutely. Think about it as additions, Innie. Your parents. My parents. Felix…..Minho.”

“But Minho-”

“But nothing, they were the best fit for you, and I rather you be with people I know that are better than anywhere else.”

“Well what about you?” He splutters, “How do you think I feel knowing you’re somewhere else? Why can’t we be together and you and Minho hyung can be-”

Your face crumbles, your hands falling into his hair affectionately, “Because I know how much you love them and how much it would’ve hurt to leave them.”

“But you were hurt as well-”

“I know,” You nod, “But this is just the way it is now and my parents? They’re good people. Felix as well. You would like him.”

“Felix.”

“....Is he better than me?”

“No. And you aren’t better than him either, Mister. But he’s my brother and yours too, if you like.”

The sentence hangs between you like a bad smell.

“No,” He shakes his head, “He’s just your brother and Minho is just mine.”

“Jeongin…”

“You love Minho,” His eyes implore into yours, holding your hands with a tight but not hurtful grip. There’s love in his hands and it’s a love you can trust.

“I do….don’t I?”

And the confusion on his face, breaks you all the same.

Hyunjin plated the pasta plentifully, generous with the serving. The mouth watering scent of garlic and oil with a hint of chilli and a bit of cheese for the cheese pull you'll be competing with him over later wafting throughout the room.

"I'll go put on a movie," You had said, leaving to choose a good movie from his collection of DVDs, humming thoughtfully and pleasantly.

Hyunjin seasons the pasta with a bit of salt and pepper, t after you with the pasta and smiling at the proud display in front of him.

While he had cooked, you were in charge of the table. You had put a spoon to twirl the pasta in and good fork and knives. You even found candles and an uneven number of red napkins.

The two of you sit across from each other, distracted by the conversation.

It's hard to say what you were talking about.

Neither of you can really remember. But you enjoyed it. You both did. You even talk a lot when you finish the meal, waiting for him to finish.

"There's a lot of chick flicks on the top of your DVD collection?" You trail off purposely.

"Ah, Felix's girlfriend. A couple of other girls. They like them and I enjoy them," He shrugs, "No big deal.'

"Oh," You nod, slightly quiet now before rising from your seat to start the clean up. Hyunjin, belatedly realising why and wanting to punch himself, "The girls or the movies?"

"The movies," Hyunjin pouts.

"Not both?" You sound jealous and petty and definitely not the girl you're supposed to be around him.

Hyunjin watches you with an open mouth, eyebrows furrowing when you wordlessly start to fill the wash basin with soapy detergent water. He stalks towards you with his mouth in a thin line, turning off the tap with a decisive motion.

You turn to him with your mouth all flat and your face all wrong.

"Hey," He says seriously, his hands cupping your face and he's so warm and gentle, "I'm really serious about you."

His thumbs circle the roundness of your cheeks, watching to see you realise how serious he is about you. Not just hearing him say it, but also understanding that whatever had happened with any girl before, happened. But that's over.

He's only interested in you now.

You leans forward to kiss you, his lips cushioning yours with a tinge of sweetness. Not being able to resist it, you squeeze at the fabric of his waist, bringing his body to you a little closer.

It's familiar. But it's not.

It could feel a little better than...

He pulls away, the two of you in some sort of daze. He smiles, his nose brushing and rubbing against yours almost playfully, letting himself giggle at how lame he is.

"You're cute jealous"

"I'm cuter when you're not flirting with my brother's girlfriend," You scowl, instantly pissed.

"I'm not," Hyunjin rolled his eyes, the two of you no longer wrapped up in some puppy loved up spell, now replaced with something darker.

"Hyunjin."

Hyunjin smiles, his tongue in the roof of his mouth, mimicking, "Hyunjin."

Your eyes zero in on his lips, swallowing at the way he traps you. His looming presence making your lower body crave him. You close your mouth, worried that anything you say may be paired with an unhealthy amount of drool.

"Jin-"

"You gonna give me a warning?” He raises his eyebrows, "Give me a warning. I obviously need it."

"Hyunjin," You growl.

He growls back with his gut, sounding a little too close to a moan. But he doesn't feel embarrassed, no. Something in him wants you to act on your jealousy and act in a way that'll have him buckle at the knee.

"Give it to me, baby," He croons.

You scowl, your hand wrapping around his neck. At his wince, you pull back, the cloud between you both dissolving.

He tsks disappointedly, a hand slipping to the nape of your neck and bringing you forward so you're right against his frame, "Maybe you just feel guilty."

"What would I feel guilty about?" You challenge, snorting. Head angled upwards to meet his eye.

"Because you know you have no room to stand on being jealous," Hyunjin tilts his head, "Yeah, I had girls before. But they're not here now, are they?"

"No?"

"No," He enunciates into your ear, just so you can hear him. Hear there's no hesitation. Hear there's no ounce of lie in what he's saying. Feel that he wants you, "No girls here. Ever. Felix's girlfriend included. That's your brother's girl. Not mine. Not now, not then, not ever.”

You don't say anything, hearing him hiss into your ear, his words and his voice heading straight to your core. The smell of his perfume spicy and so red. You can feel his heartbeat on your back, along your shoulders and wrapped in his arms, a heat.

A kind of heat that makes you uncontrollably charged, waiting for the perfect timing to attack.

"Understand?" He meets your eyes, blown the fuck out and he charges forward claiming your lips.

The scent he's wearing isn't just spice but the kind of musk that sets forth every kind of movement you're taking.

You feel at the way he traps your wrists with his tight grip against the bench, a slight hiss of pain against the waist of your back, soothed by the way his lips fall to your neck and fall down to your shoulders.

You push back, unable to withhold the need to lead him into the living room, the sexy sleek couch from your memory impossible to ignore.

He doesn't care.

Too enthralled by the way you taste under his tongue, the way your body moulds underneath his large hands like putty. The way control feels when you have it.

You kiss, a flurry of sounds that sound delicious and dirty and full of flesh.

He falls backwards, righting himself slightly as you slide over him, kissing him all over again. He uses his hands to pull your face closer to his, your tongues moving languidly before his hands fall to your waist, grinding your body against his.

You whine into the kiss, and he does it again, feeling your resolve crumble at the feeling of his hardening clothed cock against your pussy. The friction just right.

He lifts his pelvis upwards into your core, feeling the way you melt onto his body, letting yourself feel good. He's hard against your soft, and you wonder whether he can feel just how wet you are.

You plant your knees into the couch, rubbing yourself on him, feeling twitchy at the pleasure.

You mewl, listening to the way he grunts, holding your ass into him tightly, helping you slide against him.

Even through the layers of clothes the two of you are wearing, he makes you feel so good.

You make him feel so good.

The thought makes you scream, and whine and a rush of sounds that Hyunjin will commit to memory for the rest of his life.

He comes first, a slight grunt and groan escaping his mouth and his nails digging into the fabric of pants desperately, wanting to tear into it further with his teeth.

You follow after him, grinding desperately until you tighten your thighs around his frame.

"You're so cute coming like this," He comments with a tired smile, watching as you desperately chase after your orgasm as if it will run away from you.

Your core meets his pelvis harder and harder. Tightening and thrusting against him. He winces, overstimulated and throws his head back before his hands grip at your ass, helping you see the finale. Colours spill out of the two of you, rendering you blind and you have to rely on your muscle memory to find his mouth again.

You're kissing him the best you can, messily moving your lips against each other until the cloud that left you all hazy falls away completely.

He's beautiful, beads of sweat decorating his forehead and slicked in his hair. Eyes half lidded and ridden with the promise of sex and lust. Mouth swollen, pink and stamped with claim. Face pretty with your finger prints.

Skin deliciously begging to be decorated with your marks.

Kisses. Bites. Sucks.

The possibilities are endless.

Another cloud looms over you, darkly watching him like he's your prey. Dangerously waiting for the moment to pounce.

And he's nothing but a willing participant, teasing you with that sexy smirk of his.

You slide off him, lowering yourself off the couch and leaving a wet patch on his pants that has him momentarily captured, his hand falls into it to inspect it, circling his finger into the mess he made of you before tasting it.

It's when he feels you squeeze around the fabric of his pants by his waist, belt buckle clinking with the movement. You pause, staring at him, holding his attention and keeping it there just for a moment.

He exhales through his nose, feeling himself harden all over again. You're relentless, eyes swimming with lust, cloth bunched underneath your palm, ignoring his growing cock and taking his eyes as your own. He bites down of his lip restlessly.

You take pity on him, brazenly removing his pants and underwear from his waist all the way down to his calf at once. Instantly wrapping your hand around his shaft experimentally. You open your mouth to speak.

He swallows, waiting for you to speak the words you test within your mouth before you say them.

It's a game that he struggles in.

Every time you open your mouth, his focus has to be called upon. Analytically focused. Because as soon as he gets distracted, he's taken. Like a siren. Watching the way your lips form letters, and he's particularly drawn to the way you form the letters 'L', 'O' and 'U' specifically. How they would feel in the back of your throat with his cock in your mouth.

"You're mine now," You whisper, "Right?"

He inhales sharply, letting out a crass laugh, "Have been since you first kissed me-"

His smile is pretty, but the way it crumples is prettier. His eyes roll back at the feeling of your warm wet mouth around the tip of his cock, and the drag of your lips down his shaft all the way until he can feel those letters in the back of your throat.

He groans, loud and uncontrolled. Unable to help himself, his hands wrap around your head pushing you deeper. Feeling your breathing constrict slightly before he loosens his hold, letting oxygen rush back into your lungs as you lean back, cock removed with a pop.

"Naughty," You comment, hand wrapping tightly around him as punishment.

“Not gentle,” He corrects you, wincing at the stimulation shortly after, “Tried to warn yo- fuck."

If your kisses were dirty before, they're absolutely hellish now. The way your mouth fits on him, sucks at him. Feeling your cheeks hollow and his body twitch. Your tongue running across the nerves like some track athlete and feeling all control slip out of him.

He's a frantic mess trapped inside a frozen body that tenses, and exhales pleasure through tightly closed lips wanting to hear the way you gag around him.

He moans again, hands pulling at your hair to make a makeshift ponytail, watching the saliva dribble down your chin and then the way your eyes are cross faded.

Gorgeous.

"I'm going to come," He warns, pulling at the hold he has of you attempting to pull you off his cock to no success. You stay firmly where you are, breathing through your nose with a strong inhale and slow exhale.

He tenses and then you feel it, the thick spurts of cum that no doubt decorate that entirety of your insides by the end of the night will play in his head like no other. His mental wellbeing at risk.

You pull away with a massive grin on your face, wiping at your mouth like you've won the lottery and straddling his lap again, returning to your perch on top of him.

"You're crazy," Hyunjin chortles, thumb rubbing against your cheek fondly, and your lungs fill with pride.

His tongue dances around his cheek in thought, tapping at your skin and rubbing at your thigh, moving only if you give him a look. Voice out your wants and your needs to him like he needs you to.

He'll return the favour.

"If you want something, ask," You whisper, your tone innocent but the way you look at him at war with that image. The implication underneath the surface, preying on him, "Hmm?"

He likes to follow your words and he follows them unconsciously abiding.

"I want to lick the shit out of your pussy," He murmurs, in a trance. Mouth watering at the invitation that is sealed within your lips and hidden underneath cloth.

"Lick the shit out of my pussy?" You giggle.

"Yeah."

"How?" You muse, tilting your head, "Do you know where the clit is, baby?"

"You know I do," He growls back in challenge, teeth gritted at the idea. He knows you're winding him up but he plays into it.

"You want to prove it to me?" You smile, eyes lingering on his mouth.

"Absolutely."

No hesitation.

"You didn't answer my question before," You comment instead, purposely keeping your eyes trained on the wall behind him, "How will you lick the shit out of my pussy?"

"It's an answer that doesn't involve as many words as you're thinking..." Hyunjin smiles, "Just actions."

You like that answer.

You like it a lot.

Your pussy craves it, in fact.

"Let me show how I'll ruin other men for you," Hyunjin provokes in a daring manner and your mind briefly flashes before it returns to the moment.

"I hope not," You mutter under your breath, pausing to wait for any inclination that Hyunjin heard it. But all there is him correcting himself.

He looks at you then. With his eyes glittering like they're yours and mouth all claimed with bites and kisses. Possessiveness like a trap that hooks you in like a fatal flaw.

"Okay."

He doesn't smile, sliding himself out from underneath you, and your legs spread naturally open to accomodate him. Your eyes flutter shut briefly at the feeling of his soft hair tickling the skin of your inner thigh.

He kisses there.

Everywhere.

Below your navel, the ends of his hair reaching underneath your tits. The feeling filling you with sky blue air and mountain clouds, only to be grounded with the assertive kiss on your mound.

The force of pleasure from your core reaching out to him like old lovers.

His head is in between your thighs and he doesn't hold back. He's kissing you, moaning into you. Whining and the sounds he makes covers the sound of your squirming.

He clasps down on your thighs so hard they'll bruise the next morning, but for now all you can focus on is how easy he's making you come purely with his mouth.

He alternates between licking and sucking at your clit, the nerves surely spent but hungry in their need to be stimulated by him. You bunch his hair underneath your fist, feeling the power that people boast about online.

And then his tongue is in you. Thrusting in and out of you and you can see his whole body is involved in your pleasure.

It's the first time you've ever experienced it.

Tongue buried in your core like this. Wriggling around in there. It's not like cock, pleasurable but predictable. You know what that feels like.

You thought you knew what a tongue could do.

How a tongue could do.

But you realise quickly you don't, because Hyunjin's tongue makes you come in a minute and Hyunjin's tongue doesn't waste a single fucking moment to not only taste you, but to swallow you like you did him.

He pulls away, face covered in you and he's an absolute mess, you want to do things to him.

"Fuck you," You snarl, kissing him immediately. He tastes like you and you taste like him, the both of you mix together with your tongues and you can't find anything in you to dislike it.

Or pretend.

He kisses you harshly back, pulling at his pants hurriedly and you rush to remove your top and your bra from your body, his hand quickly replacing it.

You moan, loving the feeling of his hand. Sometimes his grip is soft and other times it's a bit harder, especially when he grounds against you, no longer restricted by clothing.

You lift your leg, as he lines himself up at your entrance, all to then watch as he sinks himself into you.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Holy fuck.

Oh.

"Oh fuck," You breathe, feeling the delicious burn as his cock slowly drags along your walls. He feels so fucking good inside of you. More so than last time.

You don't know what changed.

Where you make all these curses of pleasure, Hyunjin is trying not to come on the spot. Your walls are warm and wet, swallowing him like your mouth but even better. Your words are in his ear and he thinks that maybe if he got you pregnant-

"You're so fucking good," Hyunjin hisses, hand grabbing desperately at your face now, clumsily grappling for a grip that won't hurt you but add to the pleasure the two of you are experiencing at this moment.

"Move, Hyunjin," You command and he's so good at following orders...

He thrusts into you, letting your moans fuel his fire. Letting the rivers of his heart fill with you, his brain changing its way for you with every single drive of his hips. Every time his skin slaps against yours, your hands in a stupor tensing and morphing in what he believes is art.

You're art.

His tongue prods at his cheek, art is something he hasn't thought about in a long time.

But you-

You.

He can't help but stare at you, the tears welling in your eyes and he focuses on that one angle. The one where your mouth drops, your throat exposed to him and a scream choked.

He snaps his hips, over and over again.

Feeling himself get to that moment too.

He really thinks this is love. And it should scare him, but it doesn't because he's never been more sure.

Art. You. The two aren't very separate, art is you. You are art. Hyunjin comes with you and when you look at him with eyes like you do, a softness. A reflection. Soul.

Poetry in a glance.

And yet when you speak, it's not so poetic, "I actually did want to watch the movie."

You cuddle into him, hair all static and messy. Threaded and dented with his fingers. Restarting the movie at once.

But he can't stop thinking about the poetry.

About the love.

His love.

It's you.

author's note : my my i have finally updated this bad boy and sorry it still took awhile. it's so long and editing was difficult so i apologise if there's mistakes, i'm just happy to finish. i hope you enjoyed it and it doesn't suck, i also hope it answered a few questions you might've had. this chapter was also supposed to be a lot longer but i decided that i wanted to upload a lot sooner and quite frankly the word count would've crashed my computer. so this insight chapter will get a part two <3 so hope you stick around for that.

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