#every song sounds different if you know another one by him

[sillygoofyqueer]

Why is the Ithaca Saga wangxian coded and how you could write an Epic fic about it?

I'm so glad you asked Anonymous Asker on Tumblr Dot Com!

Okay so let's start with The Challenge - At the start of this song, Penelope talks about how she has been waiting for Odysseus and unravelling the tapestry she has been weaving for him for TWENTY YEARS! This is similar (to me, anyway) to how Lan Wangji plays Enquiry for Wei Wuxian every night for thirteen (or sixteen, for all those Untamed fans) years, both of them desperately waiting and hoping for any sign of their beloveds returning in their own ways - either getting home before Penelope finishes her tapestry or just replying when Lan Wangji calls for him in the night.

Then Penelope is like "yo wait...the storm....MY HUSBAND COULD BE BACK!!" and then she obviously tells all the suitors that anyone who can blah blah blah blah BLAAH (I'd write it but I'm minorly tipsy right now my bad), wanting to prove that her husband is back. To meee, this is like Lan Wangji listening to Lan Sizhui talking about Mo Xuanyu and being like "hmmm...sounds familiar. Babygirl??" I can't explain that very much but YOU KNOW?? THE VIBES!!!

Then we go onto Hold Them Down - Okay, so this one is so much more loose because I'm a moron but I do think that I can make this wangxian coded!!! Because, right, with the different suitors trying to string Odysseus' bow, it can be like the different sects vying for power - power that an alliance with the Lan Sect could bring (through MARRIAGE to WANGJI), which is why they're all trying to 'string the bow' or......court him, if that makes sense.

Then we move onto the suitors plotting to kill Telemachus so they can gain power (and what I say next is literally JUST what I think would happen) similar to how I think that if the other sects (like the Jin sect) found out about Lan Sizhui being Wen Yuan, they'd probably try and kill him too because BOOO HIIISSSS BOOOO A WENNNN!!!! (I think that'd be a cool plotline......)

Obviously then we move to the suitors being slimy bastards about Penelope, which could be like certain sects being slimy bastards about Lan Wangji!!! Like, we know it could happen because Jin Guangshan gets away with being a slimy bastard all the TIME, and as long as they're not doing it around the Lan Sect, the sects could say whatever the fuck they want!!! Man, can you tell I'm slowly going insane???

THEN!!! Odysseus. HahHAHAHAHHA. Come on pals, let me whip out the lyrics because this one was just like "WOAH HOLY SHIT!!" Alright so basically we literally start with Odysseus talking about how he's dealt with so much SHIT through the twenty years he's been gone, just to come back and hear the suitors being disgusting about his family - which can be linked in such an awesome way to Wei Wuxian because imagine that guy being like "I've been through all of this fucking SHIT (the destruction of Lotus Pier, the Burial Mounds, the Sunshot Campaign, everything with the Wens, accidentally killing his sister's fiancé, Nightless City, being ripped apart by ghosts and corpses???) and I come back to you planning to kill my SON (a Wen) and defile my HUSBAND FRIEND??" and the sects being like "oh SHIT, it's the Yiling Patriarch!!"

And then we have the suitors running and trying to escape Odysseus as he goes about and kicks their asses - and there was one quote that really got to me! So, we know that one of the suitors is like "we have the advantage!" and another one is like "No, you don't understand it, this man plans for every fight", which truly and utterly reminds me of how everyone seems to forget that Wei Wuxian was once the head disciple of Lotus Pier and literally one of the strongest cultivators of his generation due to him instead being portrayed as a villainous monster because of his demonic cultivation. The suitor dies after saying this, so I'm not sure what kind of cultivator would say such a thing!

And we can think about Odysseus being like "you think I don't know my own palace? I built it" with the second siege of the Burial Mounds, in such a cool way!! It could be like the sects running around the Burial Mounds and trying to kill Wei Wuxian but he's like "I spent so many torturous months here, you think I don't know this place like the back of my hand?" And he's just killing them off while they try to run and hide, not letting anything stop him. More killing more murder, then the suitors try and grab Telemachus to kill him - just like they'd try and grab Lan Sizhui to murder him because he's a WEN!!!

Both Odysseus and Wei Wuxian would react in the same way - I mean, did you hear the arrows fucking FLYING AT THE END OF THE SONG??? IT'S LITERALLY SO FUCKING SICK!!!!! I heard that and just thought "holy shit, Wei Wuxian with his ghostly cultivation, absolutely kicking the ASSES of everyone who dared to hurt/threaten his family???" And how both Odysseus and Wei Wuxian started their lives/journeys with peace and mercy in their hearts but everything around them piled up until they couldn't take it anymore and finally, finally fought back.

ALRIGHT I HAVE TWO MORE SONGS TO GO THROUGH BUT I DON'T KNOW IF PEOPLE ARE VERY INTERESTED????

[apollosbirthdayplaylist]

藤井 風 (Fujii Kaze) - 満ちてゆく (Michi Teyu Ku, Overflowing)

[loverboybrightsideghost]

i saw anastasiaaaaa 🥰🥰🥰👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼🗣️🗣️🗣️🥳🥳🥳🥳

[mggslover]

Between the lines

In which Spencer crosses paths with the woman he's been dreaming about. Their undeniable attraction turns fantasy into reality.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: smut (18+) x fluff Content warnings: lots of build up, perv!spence, lovesick!spence, lots of flirting, teasing, sex toys, p in v sweet sensual sex Word count: 4,6k A/n: part two of through thin walls! you can read this as a standalone, but it's a short one so give it a try ;)

It had been three weeks since Spencer last had a nightmare. Ever since his neighbor—a woman he had yet to meet—moved in next door, his nights had been calm, peaceful. Sleep had become something he looked forward to, but it wasn’t just sleep itself. It was the moments before, the quiet waiting in anticipation that became part of his routine.

Every time he came home from an exhausting case, he would crawl into bed and lean back against the headboard, his body settling as he awaited a movement from the apartment next to him. Feeling a sense of relief when her sweet moans would slip through the thin wall.

It didn’t take Spencer long to find a pattern in her routine. On weekdays, it was quick, urgent. The soft moans would rise, then fall—until Thursday. Thursdays were different. He could tell by the muffled groans and the frustrated sighs, that she was unable to find the release she so desperately sought. She would let out a final huff, signalling Spencer to stop his movements.

He was aware that he had no obligation towards the woman, but he found no pleasure in the act of touching himself when he knew she wasn’t enjoying herself. These days left a toll on him. Irritated by the fact that he couldn’t just knock on her door with the suggestion of helping her out. But luckily, there were still the weekends. The weekends were good. Her sessions stretched longer, her pleasure unraveling slowly but intensely. Spencer never managed to keep up alongside her, but he couldn’t help continuing to listen as he laid down with his eyes closed. Savoring each breath, each moment as he found peace in the fact that she felt satisfied by the end of the night.

It wasn’t every day that they would share intimate moments like these. On times she didn’t indulge, Spencer found comfort in the other sounds of her life. Hearing her television hum in the background, not loud enough to make out the words, but her occasional laughter—or her soft humming along with a song—was enough to remind him she was there, just beyond the walls.

It was strange, to feel such familiarity with someone he had never spoken to, someone who’s name he didn’t even know, but somehow Spencer had grown very attached to her presence. He often wondered what the rest of her life looked like. Making it a game to fill in the blanks with the inkling of behaviour he had.

One thing he could confidently profile was her loneliness. Whether that was by choice or by circumstance, or a mixture of both, he didn’t know. Only that he has never heard another voice besides hers, not even the typical hellos and goodbyes one would make on a phone call. He hoped she was settling in well, wishing he could bring her the comfort she has given him since her arrival.

It was noon, on a rare day where Spencer didn’t have to go to the office. But Spencer wasn’t the type to sit still on his free days. He grabbed his saddlebag from the leather chair next to the door, whistling a tune under his breath as he looked for his keys. He unlocked the door with a quick turn of the handle, but before he could step out, a yelp echoed from the hallway.

“I’m sor-,” he froze mid-apology, the automatic reply getting stuck in his throat as he processed the familiar sound. That gasp—it was embedded in his memory, a sound he could recognize anywhere, even though the circumstances were completely different. His cheeks flushed, heat spreading across his face, and he found himself afraid to tilt his head, knowing who he would face.

“It’s okay, don’t worry! I should’ve looked out.” The voice apologized.

Spencer’s mind scrambled. He wanted to tell her that he should be the one apologizing, that it was his fault for slamming the door open without considering who might be walking through the shared hallway. But all he could manage was a strangled silence, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

He swallowed, forcing himself to look up. His stomach fluttered and his pupils blew wide as he made eye contact with her. She was more beautiful than anything beyond his wildest dreams. He was almost ashamed for picturing her any less than she is. He felt flustered as his mind began piecing her face and body together with the sounds that he’s been eavesdropping on for the past couple of weeks.

He realized how awkward he was making the situation when she looked up at him with big eyes, clearly waiting for some kind of response.

“Did you like my cookies?” She asked, breaking the quiet, her voice a little hesitant but genuine.

Spencer blinked, surprised at the question, his mind struggling to catch up. "Cookies?" he repeated, brows knitting together in confusion.

The girl noticed his expression and rushed to explain. “I brought you cookies,” she said, her hands moving slightly, as if trying to emphasize the story. “When I first moved in here.”

Spencer stayed quiet, getting her to elaborate further. “You weren’t home. I left them on your doorstep,” she continued, a little sheepishly.

He nodded, letting out a small sigh as he made the connection. “It’s my neighbor,” he pointed to the door to the left of him with a vague sweep of his hand, the gesture almost apologetic. “The other one. Miss Cavanaugh. She has a habit of stealing.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and her mouth hung slightly open at the casualty in which he mentioned this fact.

“Oh no, don’t worry! she won’t steal from you.” He quickly corrected, raising his hand to wave off any concern. “Well, she might but it’s not likely she’d, like, break into your apartment. That would be a criminal act—breaking and entering—which is a felony in all 50 states. Actually, it's a federal offense in certain circumstances.” He glances off to the side for a moment, thinking, then gestures with a loose hand.

“My point is, she’s more of a, uh, casual thief, if that makes sense? Like, you know, she might nab food or a basket or something left outside, but the odds of her actually coming into your apartment are really low. Statistically speaking, this building has an impressively low crime rate for DC, especially for this price range. It’s safer than 75.3% of comparable buildings in the area.”

His brows furrowed together at the end of his sentence, as if his brain just caught up with his words. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

The corners of her lips lifted, a soft but genuine smile lighting her face.

“That’s good to know. I didn’t do that much research when I moved in here.” She held out her hand, introducing herself.

Her hand was smaller than his, and without thinking, he clasped it gently between both of his, needing to know if he indeed had the connection with her he assumed he had. The touch sent a jolt through him, feeling the spark of electricity he was hoping for. He surprised himself with how much he didn’t want to let go and, more so, how she didn’t pull away.

"I’m Doctor Spencer Reid," he said, his voice softer now, tinged with a genuine awe as he looked at her.

Her eyebrows rose in curiosity. “Doctor, huh? Good to know there’s one next door in case I drop dead.”

“Oh, uh—” His words came in a tumble as he rushed to explain. “Not a medical doctor. I’m with the FBI. I specialize in criminal behavior. So if you were to, say, die by murder, I’d be the one—uh, the one investigating it.”

The words hung in the air for a beat longer than he intended, and before he could stop himself, he added, “Not that I want you to die, or—uh, be murdered. That’s… that’s not what I meant at all. I mean, if there was even a chance someone wanted to hurt you, I’d make sure to stop it before it happened, but—”

Her laugh, bright and airy, caught him off guard. She then tilted her head slightly, studying him in a way that made her seem like the profiler.

“I’ll see you around, Spencer,” she finally said, her voice teasing but kind. His cheeks flushed at the way his name rolled off of her tongue.

Before he could respond, she turned on her heel and walked off. Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, her presence lingering even after her figure disappeared down the hall. He stood frozen in the doorway, his heart racing from the exchange.

When he finally stepped back inside, he closed the door and leaned heavily against it, letting out a groan.

He’d forgotten all about the plans he previously had. Instead, his thoughts swirled around her—even more curious about his neighbor than he was before. As he replayed their brief exchange, one thing became startlingly clear: he needed to see her again.

It was like faith heard him. Later, on that evening, Spencer stepped into the laundromat of the apartment complex, the soft hum of dryers and the faint smell of detergent filling the air. He just finished taking his laundry out of the dryer when he saw her—standing at one of the machines, pulling her clothes out with an ease that made the mundane task look almost elegant.

Spencer moved toward her, a little too quickly, and nearly bumped into a man coming the other way. “Sorry,” he mumbled, placing his basket down beside hers.

Her eyes flicked up, catching his gaze immediately. The air between them shifted, filled with an undeniable spark.

“Hi, Doc,” she greeted with a warm smile. “We meet again.”

“Hi,” Spencer managed, his voice a little breathless.

He glanced down at the pile of laundry. “Sock day?” he asked with a smirk, genuinely curious.

She chuckled softly. “More like underwear day in general. I like to stick to a schedule.”

“Me too!” Spencer eagerly responded, excited to have something in common with her.

She sighed as she held up a sock, contemplating its mate. “Underwear day is the worst though. It’s going to take me hours to match these.”

Spencer gave a quiet laugh. “I gave up on that a while ago.” He casually rolled up his pants, revealing mismatched socks—one green with avocados, the other purple with yellow stripes. “It’s more fun this way.”

She crouched down to get a better look, her eyes scanning the colorful mismatched pair. Spencer bit down on his lip. The act was so innocent, but his thoughts wandered, imagining what it might be like if she were kneeling for a different reason.

Jesus, it feels like I swapped brains with Derek.

He cleared his throat, wiping his clammy hands on his pants. She noticed, getting back on her feet, though she didn’t seem embarrassed. If anything, her eyes twinkled with excitement.

“It is more fun that way,” she agreed. “You see a serious guy like you, dressed up all neat and then, poof, funky socks. Like magic.”

His face brightened at the mention of magic. “I could show you another magic trick—a sock trick.”

She snorted, clearly intrigued. “A sock trick?”

Spencer’s confidence grew, knowing he could impress her and wanting to make her smile again. He grabbed a polka-dot sock from his laundry basket, holding it up between his fingers.

“Alright. I’m going to take this sock…” He moved with exaggerated care, his hands precise as he folded the sock in half, then folded it again. “And just like that, I’m going to make it disappear.”

He made a quick move, waving his hands dramatically to hide how he tucked it into the waistband of his pants. “See? Gone.”

She looked at him with wide, amused eyes. “You can’t be serious. Where did it go?”

He smirked and leaned in. “Ah, but that’s the trick—you have to keep an eye on me.” The back of his fingers softly trailed up her cheek, his confidence growing as he felt the heat radiating off her. In one smooth motion, he pulled the exact same sock from behind her ear.

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “No way.”

“Now look in your basket.”

She shook her head in disbelief. She looked at her laundry pile, and sitting right on top was the matching polka-dot sock.

She threw her head back, laughing, overwhelmed with amazement.

Spencer chuckled softly, enjoying her reaction. “I grew up in Vegas, so I’ve had some practice—but the real magic is in the timing. You were too focused on me to notice the disappearance.”

His words were meant as a mere observation, but the realization seemed to dawn on both of them. She had indeed been too focused on him—only him.

The tension between them grew. She toyed with her lip, and he adjusted the collar of his shirt as they maintained eye contact.

“Laundromat is closing, folks! Everybody out in five minutes.” The announcement through the speakers made them both jump, shaken out of the trance they were in.

“Can I walk you to your apartment?” Spencer asked.

Her eyes glistened, and her smile reached the corners of her mouth. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

They walked out of the laundromat, continuing their small talk about magic and life while sharing the occasional giggle. The stairway was too narrow to walk side by side—especially when carrying a big laundry basket—but that didn’t seem to bother them. The sides of their bodies brushed, their pace matching as they ascended the stairs. Spencer kept an arm behind her back, ready to steady her if she stumbled.

They arrived at their neighboring apartment doors. The air was filled with a mix of the sorrow of their encounter ending and the anticipation of a new one.

The scene almost felt like the end of a first date. Tension hung in the air as they shifted back and forth on their feet, wondering if a goodbye kiss would follow.

“This is mine,” Spencer commented.

She let out a breathy chuckle. “I know.”

After a moment of lingering eye contact, she decided to take the lead.

“Good night, Spencer.” She smiled softly.

“Good night,” he repeated.

Spencer felt a rush of joy as he closed the door behind him. Flirting wasn’t his strong suit. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if their exchanges today could be considered flirting. But there was something comfortable about it. Something effortless. And, most importantly, he’d made her laugh. Several times.

Lost in his thoughts, Spencer set his laundry basket down on the table, preparing to fold the clothes. He wasn’t paying attention as he reached inside—until his fingers brushed against an unfamiliar material.

He looked down with a frown. In his hand was a pair of red laced panties. His throat tightened, and for a moment, he could only stare at them in disbelief.

A vivid image flashed in his mind—those same red panties, nestled in his neighbor’s laundry basket. He frowned deeper, replaying their interaction in his mind. Could I have taken them by accident? He was sure he hadn’t. With an eidetic memory, he’d be able to remember something like that.

His confusement and worry were quickly overcome by a feeling of curiosity and lust. Spencer’s fingers lingered over the fabric, the soft lace slipping between them.

It wasn’t difficult to imagine her in it. The delicate lace tracing the curve of her waist, the soft dips and rises of her hips. Her body seemed to shimmer in the dim glow of his imagination.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she shifted in his mind. His fingers curled slightly around the fabric, imagining the way it would feel against her skin as she moved. She lowered her hands, fingers trailing over her body as she slid the lace downward, over the curve of her hips, the fabric teasing the soft swell of her backside. He could almost hear it—the quiet rustle of the lace moving, sliding over her skin as she undressed, the tension in his chest building with each slow, deliberate motion.

His heartbeat quickened as he imagined her pulling the panties lower. The lace graced the insides of her legs, following the shape of her thighs as she removed it with such ease, such grace. And then, just like that, it was gone. The fabric fell, pooling at her feet, leaving her standing before him, utterly exposed.

As his fingers twisted the delicate lace, the image of her in his mind began to fade, slipping away like a dream that was never meant to stay. His subconscious seemed to know that any attempt to imagine her would only fall short. With a quiet exhale, Spencer loosened his grip, folded the lace carefully, and tucked it into his pocket—out of sight, out of mind.

He decided to lie down on his bed, not to sleep, but simply to relax. But his body had other ideas. Before he knew it, his eyes had closed, and his mind had drifted off. The soft purr of his name pulled him from his light doze.

For a moment, Spencer thought he was in heaven—that his pulse had quickened from the thought of her and now he found himself in a place where he could hear her voice calling out his name, like an angel. But as his eyes fluttered open, he realized the voice was more muffled and coming from behind the wall.

“Spencer? Spencer, can you hear me?”

Startled, he swiftly propped himself up on his elbows, his mouth parting before he swallowed his words. Admitting that he could hear her—especially after the sounds from the previous nights—felt like a confession. The idea of those nights ending made his chest tighten, but if it meant he could speak to her again, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

“Yes. I can hear you,” he called back, his voice a little louder.

A long silence followed. Spencer cursed himself, anxious that he’d ruined it. But then, he heard the soft, familiar buzz.

“What about this? Do you hear this?” she asked, a playful edge to her voice.

“I- I do. What is it?” Spencer asked, his curiosity peaked.

Her giggle echoed softly through the wall, and his chest tightened with warmth. He smiled without thinking, his heart aching at the sound.

“You don’t know what this is?” she teased, amusement in her tone.

“No,” he admitted, sheepish.

“It’s a vibrator, Spencer.”

Her words hit him like a sudden jolt of electricity. He could feel the heat rise in his face, but then came her sweet laughter again. Spencer shook his head, smiling despite himself.

“Have you ever tried it?” she asked, her voice sultry, almost daring.

“No,” he responded quietly, his voice lowered.

“Would you like to?” her tone sounded persuasive.

“I- I don’t know,” he murmured, unsure but intrigued. “Maybe.”

A beat of silence passed, before she spoke again.

“You could come over and find out.”

Spencer’s face went red, his heart pounding in his chest. “N-now?”

“Yes, now,” she answered with a soft chuckle, teasing yet inviting.

Spencer scrambled off the bed, his pulse racing as he hurried toward the door, afraid she might change her mind. He forced himself to stop when he stood in front of her apartment, drawing in a deep breath to steady the surge of nervous excitement. The moment he’d been fantasizing about for so long was a knock away from becoming reality.

Knock, knock.

The door creaked open, and Spencer was met with the breathtaking sight of her.

She stepped aside and gave him that look—the one that made every nerve in his body stir with need. “Come in.”

“Are you sure?” Spencer’s voice barely made it out, thick with anticipation.

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she moved toward him, lifting onto her toes as she placed her hand on the back of his neck, the touch sending a shiver down his spine. And then, she kissed him.

There was no rush behind her soft lips. It wasn’t frantic like his thoughts had been. It was gentle—like she was savoring the moment just as much as he was.

She slowly lowered herself back to her feet, and she gazed up on him, a soft smile on her lips, eyes twinkling.

It took Spencer a moment to process what had just happened, but once he did, he pulled her back in, his lips crashing into hers with desperate urgency. She responded in kind, her hands sliding into his hair, tugging him closer. His breath came in shallow gasps as he lifted her, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, and he carried her to the wall. Their bodies pressed against the same wall that had once held their whispered breaths.

His mind felt like it was spinning—this was real, she was real, and he was touching her. His lips trailed down her neck, the soft skin beneath his mouth sending sparks of desire through him.

“Spencer,” she murmured, and the sound of her voice made his heart stutter. He responded by lifting his lips from her skin, needing to look at her—to drink her in, to memorize every detail.

She met his gaze, her lips parted. “Take it off,” she breathed, pulling at his shirt, her hands shaking with the same feverish need.

Spencer stepped back slightly, eyes never leaving her, and pulled his shirt over his head. His eyes traced every inch of her as she began to undress too, throwing her clothes aside.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself as she revealed her nude body, wearing no underwear underneath the clothes she just took off.

She smirked, her gaze burning into his. “I told you it was underwear day.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “God, I’ve dreamed about this,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with awe and desire.

Her lips curled into a satisfied smile as she pulled him back into her embrace, their bodies stumbling towards the bed. She fell softly onto the sheets, and he moved on top of her, capturing her lips in a lingering kiss.

Spencer began to pepper her with kisses, unsure where to start. He hummed as his tongue swiped along the curve of her neck. His wet kisses trailed down to her collarbones, leaving purple marks on his way down, each one encouraged by her sweet moans.

As he moved further up the bed, his knee brushed against something. His focus shifted as he noticed the small, purple object. “Is this it?” he asked, curiously, and she nodded.

He picked it up, noticing it was smaller than his index finger. As he rolled the toy in his hand, it suddenly buzzed to life, making him jump back. She laughed at his reaction, clearly amused.

He quickly figured out how to stop the buzzing and he hovered above her, tracing her lips with the toy. She instinctively opened her mouth, her tongue rolling around it.

“Good girl,” he hummed. “That’s it.”

She moaned softly as she closed her lips around it, sucking gently while maintaining eye contact. He slowly slid the vibrator from her lips, its surface glistening with the trace of her tongue. Turning it on again, he moved it to her nipple, the bud instantly hardening. She let out quiet whimpers, her body trembling with the sensation.

Once satisfied, he placed his mouth on her nipple while the vibrator moved to the other one. She arched her back with a moan as he sucked on the sensitive bud.

Her hips rolled in response to his touch, and with every movement her skin brushed against his length, making it harder to hold back his moans.

“Don’t go quiet on me now. You always make such beautiful sounds,” she purred.

His face flushed as he looked at her, her fingers brushing through his locks. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know. I think the whole complex has heard you,” she giggled.

He opened her thighs, and without warning, placed the vibrator directly on her clit. She let out a high-pitched cry.

“I’m pretty sure all they hear is you,” he teased back. Her voice was a mixture of laughter and moans and he kissed her passionately, desperate to hold onto that sound, to keep it locked within him forever.

She loosely wrapped her legs around his waist, her hand brushing against his to keep the toy in place. He leaned onto his elbows, hovering above her, moaning when his length slipped between her folds. He moved steadily, each thrust coating him in her wetness. Every time he thrust up, his tip brushed against the vibrator, sending shudders through his body. She upped the intensity, and their moans became synchronized, echoing in the air.

Their breathing grew heavier, only interrupted by soft kisses. Spencer felt her tense beneath him, her legs trembling against his back.

“You can let go for me. Show me how good you make yourself feel,” he encouraged, his voice low and warm against her lips.

“It’s you who’s making me feel this good, Spencer,” she whispered, and he could feel the butterflies flutter in his chest.

He held her close as she reached her peak, her soft cries muffled by her face buried in the crook of his neck. Spencer was pressed against the vibrator, the sensation overwhelming him.

She placed the toy beside her, her hand finding his hardness and guiding him inside of her. Spencer let out a needy whine as he was enveloped by her warmth. She pulsed around him, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. She pulled him into a sloppy kiss, and he desperately moved his hips, driven by the overwhelming pleasure, until he spilled inside of her.

They stayed like that for a moment, their foreheads pressed together as they caught their breath. Spencer eventually rolled off her, their legs remaining intertwined.

He turned his head to look at her, and she was already watching him with a sweet smile.

“That was nice,” he mused softly.

“Yeah, it was,” she replied, her voice just as soft.

They spent the rest of the night, and the entirety of the next morning tangled up in each other, until it was time for Spencer to leave for work.

She watched him with adoration as he pulled his pants on, her eyes tracing his movements. As he reached into his pocket, his hand brushed against the familiar lace, and he froze. His cheeks flushed as he pulled out the bundle of fabric—her red laced panties.

“I- uh…” he stammered, holding them out to her. “Here.”

She chuckled. “You can keep them. Consider it a welcome gift. You know, since the cookies didn’t exactly work out.”

“That’s okay. It’s yours,” he replied, holding them out to her once more.

Her smirk deepened. “I didn’t do that little magic trick just for you to give them back,” she teased.

His eyes widened in surprise. “Wait—you put them in my laundry?”

She shrugged, a playful glint in her eye. “You’re not the only magician here, Spencer.”

Spencer laughed, coming to a halt at the door. He glanced over his shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?” he asked with a grin.

She chuckled softly, nodding. “I think I could get used to that.”

[luxurychristmaspudding]

summary: after a night out dancing and a lift home turns into something more, you learn something about your dad's buddy. joel miller fucks.

pairing: young!joel miller x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. it's smut, y'all. everything you've come to expect. respectable age gap (10 years ish), tiny bit of spanking, one (1) gentle pussy slap, lil bit of daddy kink, joel miller eats it from the back (oral (f&m)), edging, unprotected piv (do better), creampie, feelings, joel miller's whore mouth.

reader has hair and wears dresses, no other descriptions or name.

wc: 7.2k

an: for @schnarfer. my favourite hot priest, i worship in your church <3

Joel went out looking for trouble that night.

Hair curling at the nape of his neck, a beer sweltering in his hand as beads of sweat carved their way down the strong line of his back. T-shirt sticking to his skin, tension wound tight in his shoulders, thick in every muscle, every strand of sinew after work. 

Revelling in the feeling of how the weight of the day lifted the more he drank, the more he relaxed, feeling his smile get wider the more he loosened up in the crowded bar. Freshly thirty five, another year in hand. Tommy buying the shots, introducing him to every new face that walked into the steaming, heavy swell of wood and linoleum, every stranger who leant against the tacky bar, every pretty girl who flicked their hair and batted their eyelashes. 

He’s laughing - held flung back, chest heaving - harder than he has in a long time. Dancing in a way so unlike how he dances with Sarah in the kitchen, welcoming the heavy, slow grind of hips against his own, breathless against a sweet smelling neck. It’s hot and it’s loud on this Friday night in Austin, and he loves it.

Not quite basking in the attention of being the birthday boy, but shouldering the stream of conversation that Tommy directs his way nonetheless. Cheeks flushed pink as he’s hauled up on to the bar top, clumsy, unsure where to look as the bartender encourages him to stand in full view of the crowd. The whole bar, oscillating with colour and light and sound, roaring into a raucous chorus of happy birthday, beckoned by the chime of the bell by the till.

The spectacle of it all makes him look to the ceiling before dropping his chin to his chest, makes him laugh again, watching these people, many strangers, cheer and sing for him. 

He holds his beer to his chest through the first part of the song, cheeks tight with a smile. His eyes swivel to the corner of the dancefloor on the downturn of Joel… catching the flicker and flare of a pair he recognises, scanning your face on the refrain - happy birthday - heart dropping confusingly low in his chest, the world taking a sticky beat as his blood halts and begins to rush again - to you.

He’s not seen you here before. Much more used to seeing you coming and going from your father’s house - bright smile, wicked eyes. Moved back home after spending some time out west when you’d finished your Masters program, always happy to chat for a little longer if you were where he was. Interesting and interested - he’s been regaled by tales of you from your father - the man who’s been overseeing safety on Joel’s latest job site - and listened to more directly from you, lip caught between his teeth as he bit back amusement at the things you didn’t want your dad to know.

Your father is a good man. Kind, supportive. So proud of you in the way he talks that Joel’s taking blueprints for raising Sarah. And you - you. Joel tries to think of you in ways he thinks of other colleagues or acquaintances. Smart, creative, perceptive. Patient, generous with your time and energy when entertaining neighbours at cookouts. Any other thoughts creep in in the dead of night, and he’s quick to try and forget them by morning.

But this - you here, now - is entirely different. It could be the buzz of the tequila in his system, could be the hot blood in his veins, could be the giddy little flash of that smile you shoot him as you clap and whoop with the rest of the crowd, but his feet are itching to find you once he half hops, half clambers down off the bar, accepting claps on the back and other sentiments as he searches for you again.

But you’re gone.

Disappeared, into thin air. Like he imagined you in the first place.

He cranes his neck a little, twisting his head from side to side as if trying to loosen another tight muscle, trying to tamp down the damp disappointment he feels. 

Trying to remember how he tries to forget.

‘Happy birthday, cowboy,’ the words are breathless, squeezed through a smile.

The grin that creeps across his face is slow and wide, crinkling the corners of his eyes as he turns to face you.

‘Evenin’, darlin’,’ is his reply. Deep, coy, any idea of hiding his thoughts gone, buried. It’s his birthday, and you’re here. You and your sparkling eyes.

‘You gonna let me buy you a drink, or have you got a queue of ladies lining up to do that already?’

He laughs, and you feel the sound glimmer down your body, lighting every synapse, every receptor. You track his gaze as it drifts down your body and back up, spine straightening at his appraisal. 

Delicious thighs beneath the hem of your skirt, soft swell of your breasts above your neckline. 

‘Your daddy know you’re here?’ He asks, delighting in the way you scoff. 

‘My daddy knows I’m out tonight,’ you say, licking your teeth, eyes dropping to his mouth, ‘And he don’t care much about it. I’m a big girl, Joel. I can handle myself.’

They’re big words for someone around ten years his junior, but he doesn’t doubt it. He’s heard your bartending stories, about your debates with fratboys. Something about your confidence, your self-assuredness licks a tongue of flame up his back. He bites his cheek.

‘Best buy me that drink, then.’

He went looking for trouble that night. 

And Jesus, he found it. 

Found it on the dancefloor, your soft body grinding against his. The heat and the sweat, how you moved your hips with his, how you’d giggled when he’d turned you around, pulling you flush against him. Your hands grasping for him, clutching at his thigh as you pressed firmly against the bulge growing at your backside, head tipped back, bliss etched across your face as you felt each other.

Found it in his truck when he dragged you outside under the pretence of giving you a lift home, found it when he rucked your skirt up on the backseat, when he pulled the top of your dress down. Inches of skin he had banished fantasies about to the back of his mind, revealed to him in the dim light of the parking lot. The sweat gleaming on your sternum, shining on your clavicles, your neck. He wishes, now, that he had taken more time to tell you how beautiful you looked, how smart you are, how funny, that first time, but the two of you had been too caught up in seeing, feeling, as much as possible. 

His knees had protested as he crammed himself onto the floor, wanting to be between those thighs, wanting to taste you. Pressing, gliding his fingers against your pussy over your underwear, watching you keen and beg, hands twisting tight in the material of your dress, then his shirt collar, then his hair. 

And that first swipe of his tongue when he’d pulled your underwear to the side, that first, most base knowledge of you. The sweet and sour, your smell, the way you became pliant, willing to have your thighs pushed up towards your chest. Quickly obsessed with the way you looked down at him, jaw slack, pupils blown, eyebrows slightly furrowed. Quickly obsessed with the way your pussy looked, puffy, needy, the way it leaked and clenched before him as he leant back to spit on it, how your head hit the headrest with a soft thump.

Too obsessed, everything about that night feeling too good as he lowered you down onto him, as he sunk his teeth into your shoulder to stop himself from coming too early, watching you bounce on his cock, listening to the way you moaned and panted and whimpered his name. The wet sounds of you fucking, the way he held you still, big hands on your waist as he bucked up into you. The way your noises, your breathing stuttered as he thrusted harder, as he dropped you lower. The fogged windows, low bass from the bar, how you clenched and fluttered around him as he wrung two orgasms from your pretty body before spilling himself inside you.

He’s been finding trouble ever since.

Finding reasons to help you grab drinks, bring out nibbles at your dad’s Halloween party. Finding excuses to have you backed up against the tool bench in the garage instead, his hips between yours, soft lips against chapped or your hand tight against your mouth to make sure nobody would find you. Heading back out into the garden with his cock still swollen, tucked into his black slacks, feeling your slick around its base still, your fake blood smeared on his dog collar, watching as you pressed your thighs together in your seat, knowing you could still feel him trickling out of you. He could hear your teasing through the glint in your eye - some priest you are, father.

Driving you home from the bar after a night of dancing around each other, after glances were snuck whenever they could be - over his brother’s shoulder, between your friends’ laughter. The crackle of electricity in the truck cab as the warm air threaded itself between you, your sparkling eyes, devious little laugh. 

Walking you to your door, keeping you safe, don't wanna disappoint your old man. 

Jamming his foot between the wood and the frame to come in when you told him he wasn’t home. 

The mornings when Sarah’s waking up, still sugar-high after a sleepover, in a house the other side of town. The mornings he’s awake first, drinking coffee at his kitchen table when you hop down the stairs in his t-shirt from the night before, sleep-stained and perfect. The mornings that start with you in his lap, with kisses pressed to temples, lips, necks, his wide palms snaking under the material, fiending warm skin, finding it, cradling it. The firm weight of your breasts in his palms, the pebbling of your nipples beneath his thumbs. The soft rock of your hips against his hardening length, his fingers reaching to pull your panties to the side, finding you soaked like that first night. How you whine and huff against his shoulder as he sinks one, two, three digits into you, as he twists them, pumps them, as he uses his thumb to toy with your clit. The wet patch you leave, darkening the grey tenting below you, the outline of him something you want to press your face against, nuzzle, mouth at until he’s begging this time. 

Mornings when he takes you apart deftly, until you hover above him, pulling his hard, leaking cock over the top of his sweatpants, savouring that delicious stretch around him, the way he thickens out at the base, the way the wiry hair there catches on your clit. When you can enjoy the way he holds you there afterwards, talking about your days ahead, nibbling at your ear as his cum slips from you along with his softening cock. 

All these moments, and they’re never enough.

Because despite how often they happen, how often he might be able to hold you, kiss you - you make Joel Miller feel like a fucking teenager. 

It’s been years since he’s woken up to the cooling evidence of a wet dream in his boxers. He’s having them nightly now in his thirties; sick and tired of waking up wet and aching and sticky, sick and tired of wishing it was you, not his hand, helping to solve the problem.

He wants you here so much more often than he does. The tip of his tongue on the evenings you call, sunlight fading through the window, orange on his sheets. He wonders, as you talk, what it would look like painted onto your skin. 

He wants Sarah to actually know how he feels about the woman who babysits her every so often, wants Tommy to understand the reason why he turns up smiling to the site every day. And he wants your father to know his daughter has found someone who’ll treat her right, who’ll hold her hand through the bad days and give her all he can to make her smile.

The more he thinks about it, the more he wonders whether you have, too. 

Whether you’d confess to your father the crush you have on the contractor, ask if he could put in a good word for you. There isn’t much between you - it would only take some careful wording, an evening where he can present the flowers he’s been dying to give you at your door.

He’s sure your father wouldn’t mind.

But this secret, the sneaking around - he can’t deny the thrill of it. Stolen touches, kisses, whispers in the moonlight. Quiet jokes between the two of you, the looks exchanged around others, the show of you putting your hand on his shoulder - can I get you anything else, Mr Miller?

You’ve only come close to being found out once. Just the once. By Tommy - who else could it have been? 

Tommy, who couldn't hide his delight when he found the underwear you’d left behind in Joel's truck one morning, wheezing with laughter as Joel stuffed your soft, cotton panties into his back pocket. His cheeks aflame, he swore under his breath that he’d kill his little brother if he ever flicked a woman’s underwear at him like that again instead of doing the right thing - kicking them under the seat and pretending he hadn’t seen anything. 

Between gasping breaths, Tommy had managed to make a good point. At least it wasn't Sarah who’d found them.

You gonna tell me who the lucky lady is, big brother?

He didn’t. Not yet.

It’s been so unbearably hot all day.

Too hot to work in the open air, and though Joel’s not grateful for the heat, he is grateful for the chance to stay at home. A chance to catch up on chores while Sarah basks in the AC at school, a chance to work his way through bills and invoices, fighting to keep his head clear of any thought of you and what you might be up to in weather like this.

He keeps his eyes carefully trained on numbers, figures, dates, unaware of the clock, unaware of the calls he’s missing. Only catches himself daydreaming when the lines start to blur.

He makes it to just past lunchtime when he hears a car pull up in the driveway. He knows the rattle of that engine, the heave of noise it makes as it turns off.

He stands from the table, blood racing in his chest.

‘God- motherfuckin’ shit,'

Joel lets the front door hang open behind him, folding his arms across his heart as you try and jam your wing mirror back in place.

‘You kiss your grandma with that mouth?’

You grin, flipping him off as you slam the door closed. The mirror sticks.

‘Yeah. Suck your dick with it, too,’

His lips quirk, watching as you stand with your hip against the front of your car, a box in one hand, the other shielding your eyes from the sun. Staring at each other, a little game you play. You watch his smirk grow, feeling the trickle of sweat down your spine.

‘There a reason why you’re here?’

You roll your eyes, like it should be obvious. And it is obvious, but -

‘Freezer’s fucked,’ you huff, and Joel raises an eyebrow. ‘Can I put them in yours?’

You hold the box up to him.

‘Popsicles?’ Joel frowns. You roll your eyes at him.

‘Please, Joel. They’re literally the only thing keeping me sane,’

He scratches at his jaw, pretending to contemplate.

‘I dunno, darlin’,’ he says, ‘The only thing? Surely that AC of yours is doin’ a fine job,'

You scoff at him, folding your own arms. 

‘That old piece a’ shit ain’t doin’ nothin’ and you know it,’

He chuckles, letting his arms drift to his sides.

‘Guess I can take care of ‘em for ya. Anythin’ else?’

You bite your lip, eyes glinting in the sun.

‘Can I come in?’ you ask. A slow, smug smile grows across Joel’s lips.

‘'N do what, exactly?’

You pout at him, fluttering your eyelashes. His cock twitches.

‘Just wanna swim in the pool. Promise I won’t do nothin’ else, Mr Miller,’

‘Nothin’ else, baby?’ He says, lowly.

You shake your head, eyes wide. Picture of false innocence.

‘Nothin’ else,'

If there are two things Joel has come to know about you in the last year, it’s that you’re a great fuck, and a bad liar.

He steps back into the open door behind him, grinning as you skip past him into the hallway. He watches, snicking the catch and lock as you make your way into the kitchen, swinging open the refrigerator door, finding a spot for your iced treats. He follows, leaning against the doorframe, watching as you stand in the cold air flowing from the appliance for a moment, your eyes closed.

He’s looking at your legs when you turn to speak to him, snapping to meet your gaze as though he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. That ship sailed long ago. You grin at him.

‘Whatcha been doin’?’

He exhales, stepping closer.

‘Workin’,’

You hum, meeting him beside the kitchen table, surveying the stacks of paper.

‘Not too hard?’

‘Hard to, when I'm thinkin’ ‘bout you,’

You grin, twisting to look at him.

‘You sweet on me, Miller?’

He shrugs.

‘Bout time you noticed,’

His hands find your waist as yours make their way up his chest, his shoulders, winding around his neck.

‘I had my suspicions,’ you whisper, before pressing your lips to his. He smiles into it, parting his lips to invite you in, rocking you back and forth in his arms.

‘Missed you,’ you breathe, and he hums in response.

‘Missed you too, baby,’

You’re salty sweet; warm scent of your skin, your sun lotion, your perfume, your sweat. When he’s satisfied, done licking lazily into your mouth, exploring the taste of your lips, he moves to your neck. Laving kisses there, biting, sucking, nibbling as you sigh against him. He bites harder, earning a particularly needy whimper, hands moving to knead the flesh of your ass through your dress.

‘Joel,’ you murmur, ‘You’ll leave a mark,’

He hums, trailing kisses up your neck to the space behind your ear, along your jaw, before finally meeting your lips again.

‘Don’t care.’

He’s grasping your hips to turn you so you’re pressed against the table, your back to his firm chest. You can’t help the gasp, the giggle that floats from you as he tugs you closer, as you feel the heft of him pressed into the small of your back. You shift your hips, brushing against him, slow and purposeful.

Joel groans - a long, drawn out, hungry sound. He pulls your hips tighter to him, moving against you just the same before his hands slide up to your breasts, holding the weight of each in his palms, squeezing and rolling a nipple between his thumb and finger. You tip your head back against his shoulder, and he hums approvingly as you begin to grind against him in earnest. He pauses only for a moment to pull your straps from your shoulders and work your dress down to expose your tits, and then he’s on you again. Teasing and stroking and pinching, your hand gripping his forearms as you huff and whimper, caged between him and the table. You moan his name, bleeding every once of want you feel into it, hoping he can hear just by the sound of your voice how wet you are for him.  

‘Dreamt about ya last night,’ he rasps in your ear, and you flash him a dazzling, breathless smile.

‘Oh yeah? ‘N what’d ya dream about, cowboy?’

You whine as he crowds you, leaning down to suck another bruise into the junction between your neck and shoulders, whiskers bristling against your skin, hands hot and heavy everywhere they can find purchase.

‘Much rather show you,’ he rumbles.

You nip your bottom lip between your teeth, shooting him a wicked look over your shoulder. His eyes crinkle, and as he spins you to face him again, he moves to pinch your jaw, just rough enough to curb your inevitable wise ass response. He watches as your eyes glaze a little, soft slump of your shoulders as he gives your head a little shake. His cock is achingly hard.

‘Upstairs. Now,’

As soon as he backs away from you, you’re sprinting towards the stairs with a shriek. Joel is close behind, and you can feel the heat of him, enough to set your heart galloping in your chest. Something primal urging space between you, something base wishing there was none.

You clatter through his bedroom door, whirling to face him - bare chest heaving, lips curled. He pauses in the doorway - so tall and broad, so imposing - shoulders straining against his t-shirt, curls frayed from your hands. He steps in, swings the door shut behind him, and then he’s closing the space easily - one, two, three - gathering you in his arms until you’re on tiptoes, pawing at the flesh of your ass through your sundress. Obsessed with it. You on him, him on you.

He needs this like air.

His breath is hot against your lips, mouth needy and wet as you open yourself to him. He licks into your mouth, kissing you like it’s something you need to take from him, like there’s something you need to understand through the action alone. He fiddles with the flimsy material of your half-removed sundress, pulling at it a little.

‘Take this off,’ he growls, nipping at your lips. 

You step back from him as you push it past your hips, the fabric pooling to the floor in seconds, leaving you in your panties. He bites his lip, murmuring a fuck before stripping himself of his t-shirt. Glorious tan chest, slightly lighter than his strong arms, shoulders seeming even broader, smattering of hair that leads down past his navel, his smooth belly, the constellations of freckles that join beneath your fingertips.

You busy your fingers with his belt as he cups your face once more, pressing kisses to your hairline, your forehead, your cheekbones. You’re giggling, trying to see what you’re doing through the blur of his face and hands, but then his palms are moving lower, groping at your breasts again, swiping his thumbs against your taught nipples, groaning against your mouth as you dip your hand past his unfastened belt and fly, into his boxers to cup his silken skin.

‘How’d that dream go again?’

Joel smiles against your mouth, giving a harsh twist to each peaked bud before beginning to push his jeans further down.

‘Kneel,’ he commands.

You drop to your knees in one swift motion, biting your lip at him as he whips his belt from its loops and throws it to the corner of the room. Your eager fingers curl under the waistband of his jeans, inching them and his underwear down. 

‘Don’t know how you’re wearing jeans in this weather -’

‘Cos I knew you’d be here some point to take ‘em off me,’

You smirk, blinking up at him through your eyelashes.

‘Who, me? I don’t know what kind of girl you take me for, daddy, but…’ You’re chewing your cheek to try and temper your look of amusement, but Joel gives in immediately. Goofy smile, all teeth, eyes crinkling at the edges. He cups your jaw as you wrap your hand around his base, pulling him out of his underwear, soft black material barely holding him in. 

His body moves with the first pump of your tight fist, the swirl of your thumb when you reach the head, spreading the pearl of precum beading there as he hisses. Thick and pulsing in your hand, velvety smooth, you trace its lines, veins with a delicate finger, press a kiss to his tip. Joel’s nostrils flare.

‘So pretty,’ you murmur, and that smirk tugs at his lips again.

‘I say you could touch it?’

You roll your eyes, quirking your head at him.

‘Didn’t think you had to,’ you shrug, ‘Kinda comes with the territory of tellin’ me to get on my knees -’

He scoffs.

‘Alright, smart ass,’ tangling his fingers in your hair, ‘Make me proud.’

You smile broadly, before inching closer, moving your mouth with your hand to chase down his length. You always know how to shut him up, and right now, the sight, the sound, the feel of you taking him all on the first try makes him fucking dizzy.

Hot and wet, the ridges of the roof of your mouth like satin around his cock, jumping as it hits the back of your throat and further, twitching again as you hum around him, opening your eyes - doe-like, watering already, the pinch in your brows telling him what you need to hear.

‘Good girl,’ he groans, ‘Good fucking girl,’

It’s the encouragement you need, moaning again as you pull back to the tip, taking him back in again as you bring one hand up to scratch at his thigh, the other moving from his length to his balls, cupping them softly, squeezing, rolling, and he’s on fucking fire. If there was ever a chance he was going to hell before, he’s sure the way you make him feel will send him there regardless.

You’re taking it slow, steady, making him feel every inch of your mouth as you moan and breathe, so intense that he can feel his tip heating - a kind of overstimulation - as he lets little moans slip more freely from his lips. Sighs and mutterings, breathless praise, wrecked groans as you start to move faster, jaw falling open. A steady stream of salt on your tongue, the taste making you keen for him, press your nose to the skin above his cock, making you forget anything outside the taste of him in your mouth. The hand on his thigh moving to work his length as you pay special attention to his head, your hips bucking unconsciously. His stomach jumps, lungs heaving as he massages your crown, as you kitten lick and swirl your tongue down the vein on the underside, rewarded with a sharp, wanton gasp as you pull back to slap him against your tongue. 

You watch as his pink tip flushes a darker shade, as it dribbles even more, feeling him jerk in your hand. Spellbound, slack-jawed at the way you take him, at the way you want him, like the taste and the pressure is never enough. How you always need more, more, more, and he’s getting closer, closer, closer -

He pulls you off with a deep, guttural groan - missing your mouth the minute it’s gone, resisting the temptation to shove himself back past your lips and come down your throat. 

You gaze up at him, pouting, straining against the hand in your hair. 

‘What? Didn’t I make you proud, cowboy?’

He tightens his grip, tips your head further to meet his gaze.

‘Bed,’ he commands, relinquishing his hold, ridding himself of his remaining clothes as you do yours, clambering up onto his bed, settling yourself on your knees again, wiggling side to side, your wide eyes rapt, wired. Chin wet, chest heaving, fingers twitching in your lap, he makes his decision almost instantly. Steps forwards, fingers brushing against the inside of your knee. Your legs part automatically, and he follows the contour of soft skin in the inside of your thighs right to the very top, no grace in the way he swipes his fingers through your folds, collecting the wetness there. And there’s so much of it, so much you feel proud of the way his eyes darken when he feels it.

‘What’s this, baby?’ He coos, repeating the motion as you whimper, as your shoulders hunch and your chin tips down. He lifts it with a finger and thumb, before cupping your face. You nuzzle into the touch, eyes hungry. ‘Oh, pretty girl,’ he murmurs, smiling again, ‘This happen while you were down on your knees sucking daddy’s cock?’

You snort softly, forehead knocking against his as he crowds closer.

‘Fucker-’ you start, but it’s cut off by your gasp as he easily slips in two thick fingers. He tuts.

‘Try again,’

‘Yes,’ you whisper, ‘Fuck yes, it did,’

He kisses your nose, pumping the digits slowly.

‘Gonna have to do something about that then, aren’t we?’

‘Please,’ you breathe, and he removes his fingers, slipping them into his mouth with another groan, tasting you - fuck. 

‘Hands and knees, baby,’ he says roughly, and you obey.

He pushes you forward so your chest is pressed into the sheets, nipples catching on the fabric, sweat soaking, cooling against the bed. Your breath catches in your throat - good girl, like this - and he’s pulling your hips up towards him, gripping the flesh at the backs of your thighs to spread you. Your knees slide, pliant with the need that scorches through you, and you press your cheek into the duvet, trying to angle your head so you can watch him watching you. 

And fuck, is he watching you. Eyes blown, lips bitten, a depraved intensity settling in the way his jaw flexes. You bunch your hands into fists on the cotton, shuddering as his palms run over your curves - hips, waist, hips, ass, thighs - before they stop, parting you for him again. You can’t help the way you present yourself to him, the way your hips tilt when air meets your bare cunt.

‘Atta girl,’ he mumbles, ‘Look at all that. You makin’ a mess f’me, baby? This pretty little pussy achin’ for what I wanna give her?’

You muffle your response, so fucking desperate, against his sheets, clutching the material tighter. He swipes both his thumbs through your folds, tracing the seam of your cunt, spreading the slick there to shine against your skin, teasing one digit at the entrance of your hole, the other inching its way - agonisingly - towards your clit. You throb, and he watches a bead of slick dribble down your folds, grinding himself against the bed as his cock jumps.

‘Is she, baby?’

You gasp, turning your head to him again. His eyes meet yours, dark, burning.

‘Yes,’ you half-moan, half-sob.

He hums in response, before turning back to your spread cunt. The thumb making its way towards your clit disappears, and you scrunch your brows together in disapproval, mouth working around a strangled please- before the sensation is replaced by his warm breath, then his firm tongue as he licks you from your clit to your hole. 

The cry that forces its way past your lips is strangled, choked, stuck in your throat as you clench around nothing at the contact.

‘Oh, fuck -’

And he chuckles against you, at the way your legs almost give out, wrapping his strong arms around your thighs in an effort to hold you upright. You squeeze your eyes closed as he licks further - Joel, fuck - seeking your clit again, pulling it between his lips, dragging his face against you, like he needs it, like he can’t be apart from you.

He sucks a little harsher, and at the very same time, you feel the tip of his nose edge against your cunt. You moan, a fractured sound, and he pulls you towards him again, pressing the curve of it further inside, moving his tongue in circles. You’re seeing fucking stars.

Breath shuddering out of you in high pitched gasps, toes curling against the pressure that builds so quickly already in your gut, unable to move, to find any relief as he mouths at you - ravenous, cramming his face, his fucking nose, as far into you as he can, slurping and sucking, letting his teeth graze you gently when you try to protest - too much, close Joel, ‘m close, fuck -

He pulls back just as suddenly as he came near, swatting your ass quickly, once, twice, before leaning back in. You barely have time to register the sting, how it flares goosebumps up your back, what it means, drunk on the feel of his mouth on you. He begins the same onslaught, sucking, licking, groaning at your taste before the knot tightens again.

‘Yes, please, Joel, please -’

But he’s gone again, that same firm hand landing on your backside as he pushes himself up, loosening his arms from their vice grip on your thighs. 

‘Not yet,’ he rasps, ‘Not yet, gonna come on my cock, yeah? Get it nice and wet, show me how much you like it?’

You rock your forehead against his mattress, waves of pleasure rolling through you, cunt fluttering, still so exposed to him. You take too long to answer, moaning loudly as he taps his palm against your soaked folds. You jolt, hips moving instinctively, finding nothing. You shudder a breath.

‘Yes, wanna come on your cock, I need it daddy. Need you inside me, need you to fuck me, need to come, Joel, please -’

He pulls you by the hips to the edge of the bed again, one palm kneading the flesh there, the other sliding three fingers through your arousal, bringing the wetness to his cock, slicking himself up. You raise yourself up on your elbows, looking back at him, and Joel's heart almost gives out. That perfect little pout, the sweat dripping down your forehead, the bead of it that travels down the valley of your spine, shining against your skin. Every inch of you so perfect, glossy in the heat, his. The patch he loves so much at the bottom of your back, just before the swell of your ass, even better, impossibly, from this angle. 

He holds you still with the grip on your hip as he nudges the tip of his cock against your entrance, and your breath stills in your lungs. That first press, the pressure, the beginning of the stretch, the way you contract around the promise of it, waiting, waiting -

Waiting.

Joel smiles, though you can’t see it. His body pulled taught, barely resisting the urge to push himself further into you. 

‘Go on, pretty girl,’ he says, ‘Wanna see you fuck yourself on it. Show me how bad you need it,’

You hear his breath catch the moment you begin to slide down, and then the room is silent, save for the buzzing of his fans and the sticky sound of you pulling him inside. When you reach his base, nestling against the hair there, you both let out an honest, drawn out groan of relief. You’re so full of him, the stretch welcome, pressing against a sweet spot deep inside you, just enough to leave you breathless. You can feel him pulse in time with your heartbeat, feel yourself grow wetter, begin to drip down your thighs as you breathe heavily, as his grip grows firmer, as his fingers slide to the crease between your thighs and your stomach.

‘Move, baby,’ he pleads, sounding just as wrecked as you feel.

So you do. Slow, methodical, so you can feel all of him. Every inch, every vein that makes you clench around him, that makes him groan low in his throat. You know he wants it faster, that this time he wants more, but you’re too busy indulging yourself, focused on the drag of him against your walls, showing him how he takes care of you, making sure he watches how he fills you, how well you take him. 

When the pressure begins to grow, when he coos at you a little more, you move with more force, fucking yourself back, your noises coming louder, higher pitched, while his grow lower, as he babbles to you more and more. 

‘Fuck, look at you, baby. Look at you. Take me so good, take me so deep. Perfect pussy, made f’me, ain’t she? So pretty baby, so pretty the way you stretch, feel so good, so good, darlin’, fuck -’

He’s almost too caught up in the way your ass recoils against his thighs, the way your pussy moulds itself to him, that he misses the tell tale signs of you about to come. The way you gasp, the way you tighten and throb, the way you fist the sheets around you, the way your body begins to lock up -

‘No. Not yet,’ he grits out, pulling his hips back, pulse pounding in his ears as he watches your body try to chase his before he grips you again, turning you onto your back.

You’re sobbing around your plea - please Joel, been so good, just wanna come around you, please baby - but he’s steadfast.

He wants to see your face when you let go. Wants to watch your eyes roll, wants to watch you arch, wants to see the way your stomach lurches -

You scrabble for him, slurring your words, so fucked out - please Joel please, please baby, god, I just need - as he arranges your legs so your knees are bent, so your pretty little pussy is exposed completely to him - need you, please fuck me - before he swipes his thumb against your clit again, just to hear your broken whine, the hiccuped sigh, the way your body twitches, so close.

He pauses, holds your thighs wide open before him, towering above you. You reach to skate a hand up his tan belly, fingers scraping through the hair there, the muscled lines leading down to his cock, enjoying the thrum of his heart beating through his skin before he knocks it aside, pursing his lips and spitting straight onto where you are connected.

It turns you half-feral, rearing up towards him as he speaks.

‘There we go, baby. This what we need,’

The first thrust in takes your breath away. 

And he doesn’t give you any chance to get it back.

He sets a punishing pace, feeding you his cock with dogged precision, consumed by how you look spread beneath him, with how puffy and slick and shiny your pussy is, how it splits around him. 

Thick heft of him sawing in and out, the way you clutch at him, sucking him back in, tighter and tighter each time, like your body is already missing him. So wet slick is smeared around your thighs, soaking Joel’s lap, leaking down into the cleft of your ass. He kisses you, slow and deep, gasping and panting against your lips. Guttural moans from him, needy little whimpers from you, the sloppy sound of pleasure. 

He breaks away from you when the kisses are splintered by gasps of air, fixing his mouth to your neck, inhaling deeply there, pressing his lips to your shoulder, lower, the top of your breast, your sternum, before closing them around your nipple. You keen as he scrapes his teeth over the sensitive bud, hands flying from his flexing forearms to his hair, scratching his scalp, moaning his name, chanting it - Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel.

He sucks harder, tongue working around the flesh before he does the same to your other breast, fingers slipping down over the damp skin of your belly towards your sex, seeking that last nudge you need to send you flying over the edge.

Tighter, wetter, arching to meet his mouth as you gasp and plead - gonna come Joel, gonna come, please can I come, please, please -

You barely register his nod against your chest, barely hear him gasp ‘Give it to me baby, good girl, that’s it,’ before the flood overwhelms you, clawing through your body, ripping through you like flame. Your body tenses, jerks, hips stuttering against him, pussy throbbing as you cry out, pleasure flushing through you all the way to the top of your head. Aftershocks flare like fireworks behind your eyelids, hips moving frantically with his to chase the very end of your orgasm.

Joel watches, chest hot, stomach tightening with that tell tale taughtness - oh, shit baby, yeah, s'that good? - before his own eyes squeeze shut, his body faltering, pushing all the way up against your cervix as he pulses inside you, filling you with warmth, spilling himself until it begins to leak between your thighs.

He gives a couple of softer thrusts before he groans again, hearing you whimper, ears ringing, pulling out just to watch himself drip out of you. The sight makes him greedy, makes him press it back into you even as you hiss in protest, too sensitive. He looks up just as you crack an eye open, an arm swinging across your forehead.

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ you mumble, a smile growing before he breathes a shy laugh at the ceiling. He loves the sound of your giggle as you watch him.

He crawls back up your body, ignoring how the heat begins to creep back in, become formidable again. He presses kisses to your collarbones, your neck, your cheeks, and you thread your spare hand back through his hair, enjoying the way it looks, mussed by you.

His sweaty forehead presses against your sternum, laving affectionate, wet kisses there as you come down from your highs, panting in the warm air of the room. 

You continue to card your fingers through his damp curls, staring up at the ceiling fan as it whirs and spins above you. Your eyes flutter closed, content.

‘You’ll have to get Sarah from school soon,’

He grunts in acknowledgement, nuzzling into your ribcage, licking at the salty skin before nipping it between his teeth. You giggle, body lurching away slightly before it’s fixed in place by his wide palms at your hips. ‘And I have to be home before four,’

He groans, pressing a kiss to the underside of your breast.

‘Come over for dinner,’ he murmurs, ‘Tell your dad we're hangin’ out, gettin’ to know each other. I’ll grill some stuff. You bring some more of those popsicles,’ 

You snort at him, huffing something about how nothing will get grilled if you’re watchin’ me suck on a popsicle, even as your chest and cheeks heat, before he slumps on top of you, plush lips crushing against yours in a searing kiss, tongue licking into your mouth, setting you ablaze again beneath him. You moan as he moves to your neck, sucking and biting and bruising.

‘Come,’ he groans into your skin, ‘Promise you’ll come. I'll make it worth your while,’

You offer him a breathy laugh, a sure at the double entendre with sparkling eyes. Your back arches, hands gripping his biceps as he languidly moves lower, taking your nipple in his mouth. He swirls his tongue around the raw bud, grazing it with his teeth before sucking gently.

‘Joel -’ you gasp, clenching your thighs together as you wriggle beneath him, meeting his warm brown eyes as he looks up at you through his eyelashes. ‘We need to -’

He cuts you off with a sharp nip at the puckered flesh. He turns his head to the side, checks the watch he’s still wearing, and fixes you with a dark, hungry look.

‘Reckon there’s time to go again.’

[wonryllis]

watermelon sugar (m) | sim jaeyun.

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗻 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁?

preview. he’s the sweetest to you, one might confuse him for your boyfriend, but he’s not, he just your fuckboy of a roommate who treats you like a delicate candy, always looking out for you and never at you; or so you think.

or where, jake can't seem to get you off his mind no matter how hard he tries.

meet the cast. simp sim jaeyun(jake) with his obsession fem!reader

genre. and they were roommates trope, fuckboy soft for his girl trope, SMUT MDNI!!!, lots of toothrooting fluff, tiny speck of angst but not proper angst, drunk confessions?, only one who can control him/her trope, happy happy ending, crack/humor, domestic scenes(newly added) college fuckboy athelete roommate!jake with his candy!roommate girl. computer science & programming major!reader, exercise physiology major!jake, nonidol!au, soccer player!jake.

word count. 13,488 unedited! it's word vomit.

warnings. fingering, dry humping, dirty talkkk lots and lots of it, nasty freak jake with innocent(seems to be) girlie, experienced x inexperienced(virgin but has idea), pussy slapping, somewhat drunk sex but there's consent consent, oral (m rec.) different scenes, p in v (unprotected! but pls pls pls do not do this ever use protection!!!!!) multiple orgasms (f.rec), overstimuation(f.rec) and somewhat (m.rec), spitting? slight nipple play, jake is rough and filthy, with heavyyyyy corruption kink it's all throughout the story, strength kink, size difference “i worship the ground you walk on” energy but still dominant jake, jake has soooo many dirty inner thoughts about you it's innumerable. he's a simp for you so you're a slut for him— i guess that's them?

theme song. animals by maroon 5 (jake pov), into you by ariana grande (yn pov)

﹙★﹚ ࣪DRABBLES (find them here)

` author notes. im sorry for making you guys wait three extra weeks I hope y'all still want to read this,, what do i say it was so horrible before the revamp, thankfully it's so much better now and the smut god, it was so hard to write it i hope it's good enough. REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS ARE HIGHLY ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED!!

“i don’t mind this feeling.”

YOU DONT KNOW WHAT TO CALL IT, WHATEVER IS HAPPENING BETWEEN YOU BOTH, BUT YOU LIKE IT. IT FEELS SILLY AND FRAGILE AND GOOD. perhaps a little too good.

god forbid what you had done in your past life to get a roommate like jake, a complete package; a concoction of all classic kinds of roommate one could possibly expect. you aren’t complaining though he takes care of you in every way he possibly could. making you feel like his entire world revolves around you, from his time home to the hours he spends on the field. one would ask anything of him and his answer would surely include you in one way or another, everyone knew it, everyone could see it, the way he feels.

he makes you breakfast, he helps with the cleaning- you both actually have it planned to have a cleaning day every week to polish the apartment. he cooks for you and he does the dishes more often than not, the only exception being the time when you insist deathly on doing it yourself because come on you gotta do at least some thing around the house.

to add to the perfect mixture of god gifted man, he video games in his room with the door shut so that the sound of him shouting at the screen doesn’t disturb you. does the laundry- even your bras and underwear, he’s just too used to those clothings to give a care to get embarrassed (outwardly). he would never admit the way they get him all hot and bothered when he thinks of all the places those fabrics have touched. how wild his imagination runs and all the things he wishes he could do to you. all the sounds he could get, out of you and all the things you'd taste of.

you are his candy (well not exactly ‘his’ but according to him this nickname of yours is only and I repeat only reserved for him) literally because you are all over sweets all the damn time and figureratively because he’d die to have a taste of you; the forbidden fruit of his life, too innocent for a person like him to ruin. but lord would he give up everything to land a chance to lay his hands on you not so innocently.

this man does not give a fuck about who is not you, and maybe occasionally spare a care for his two best friends who so far have only been blessed enough to know your name because jake has made it clear that you're off-limits and if they ever dare to do anything given the opportunity he'd rip off their balls and feed it to ducks (he's serious he swears)

getting to the real point of your dynamic: the only drawback— jake sim is a renowned fuckboy on campus, the heartbreak prince and you, his miss americana as they all like to call it. it is a daily routine, having to find a new girl in the house and ofttimes hearing them even with your door closed and your hands pressed on your ears. at first it felt disgusting, then you got used to it, and now very recently you’ve been feeling weirdly dejected. a certain kind of hatred towards the girls, something you can’t pin point exactly to why and what it is.

“candy, my laptop broke down again!” jake's raspy voice dances through the little cracks of the bathroom door as you prepare for a quick shower. you sigh, tightening the towel wrapped around you before stepping out. a short knock at his batman poster door left ajar, and he's whipping his head to have a look at you as if he knew you'd be in the middle of washing up. a little secret, yes he knew because everytime ahead of bathtime you make sure to have a sip of your watermelon slush stack from the fridge and the sound of it's door reaches his room just right to let him know.

he remains seated on his bed, a sheepish smile on his face. your eyes fall at his desk to see his laptop closed, he tricked you, and like always you fell for it,“maybe if you used your school laptop to study instead of playing games on it, this wouldn't happen all the time. but i assume you probably did it to get me here, it’s not gonna work everytime yun,” you click your tongue in feigned annoyance making him grin wider,“well it does work everytime though,” he knows how to have you on his tail just like you know how to have him wrapped around your finger. it only seems fair, you both know what gets the other going and you use it to your advantage.

“what is it?” asking in a sing song tone, you plop down on his desk chair. spinning in rounds with your legs out swinging, hands gripping onto the arms of the chair while looking up at the phosphorescent glow-in-the-dark stickers you had forcefully put up on the ceiling of his room. a funny memory of jake trying to stop you because it would defeat the whole image of his room only to fold when you gave him the puppy doe eyes, baby talking that you really wanted to do it. it doesn't take much to have jake cave in, just one look from you and the boy is a flatline. fuckboy? he is that to everyone but to you he's practically whatever you want him to be, though you have never really had a talk about it.

“actually eunsang, she-” there is a hesitation is his tone you are well aware of, having almost a clear idea of what he's about to say,“i told- no warned you not to get involved with her for a second time, didn’t i?” you scold, feeling that little twinge of hurt knowing he probably will keep on being involved with girls like this no matter what you say. it's the one thing where you don't have him under your spell. or that's you think, i mean you you have no idea do you of how much he wants you. just like how you have no idea how much you want him.

“yes but it happened and now she’s after me all the time, she even showed up to my soccer practice yesterday! please just this one time, please help me get rid of her,” clamping together his hands in a plea, jake pouts as best as he can, giving you his puppy eyes. but when you don’t show a reaction of any sort he resorts to the next best guaranteed thing: bribery,“i’ll buy you tons of watermelon lollipops! from your favorite brand that too!” eyes sparkling with hope and expections of having you fall for it, like you do every single time, he waits. albeit patterns break, in everything and everyone.

“no, i’m on a diet. i gave up on sweets, what if i get diabetes? will you,” you point at him dramatically,“take responsibility?” to which his stance morphs into one of stunned. he would gladly take responsibility for you at any given chance, but it's one of more gravity and significance than diabetes. and he's sure he's not one you should be in care of as more than anything that you are right now. he's too corrupted and you are too naive.

“yes of course i’ll help you take your meds and-” he mumbles in a quick, hurried note aware that you’ll not let him answer if he’s not fast enough. you still beat him to it though, speaking loud over and above his voice, to drown out his words despite hearing them quite clearly,“will you? NO you will not! so let me just shower peacefully before i get the urge to lock you in the bathroom when you’re in there later,” with a silence after, one that has jake grinning again at your cuteness, you take it as a que to rush out swiftly. trying to make it to the bathroom before he decides to use his strength against you and hold you down wherever he wants. which though hasn't been often, has always left you breathless and flustered to a point you refuse to admit.

training to become an athlete, a buff center forward in comparison to you who barely puts effort into doing even a little bit of yoga once a month. it’s obvious he’ll have you give in if he wants but he’s too sweet to force you. and of course it's obvious, the tension of the strength kink that looms over in the room.

it comes as a shock to you when the next day, the first thing you see waking up in the morning and walking into the living room: is eunsang standing by the kitchen counter. and important point: clad in one of jake’s dress shirts that you recognize from doing his laundry occasionally, pouring herself a glass of water. oh you had to see this coming, this is jake we're talking about will be really ever like ever not bring over girls? no matter if they're clingy or not. the answer is ambiguous and definitely not to your favor.

she’s shares a small smile upon noticing you, a friendly smile which you know is obviously fake. she’s doing it just to look good and polite in jake’s eyes. just to show that she's not bothered by you, because as said everyone knows if they don't like you then they automatically are on jake sim's blacklist. and being the star player of the team, his acquaintance is more or less influential to a large extent, so note to be taken be nice to candy to not be on the cross out list.

however as sad as it is to say it’s of no use. she’s not even there in his eyes to begin with. the moment the jake comes out of his room, his field of vision doesn’t include her. passing by her very visible figure like she’s a microscopic bug to ruffle your hair in a dotting manner, his morning voice coming out in an adoring essence,“good morning, candy,” he smiles and scrunches up his nose when he notices the baby cat you both adopted last month, curled up in the corner of the couch,“and mei,” he acknowledges your pet kitty but not the girl he brought home, that should speak volumes to you, jake thinks. treating you like candy of his world you are, shouldn't that be the ultimate giveaway of his feelings? like even his hookups can see how down bad he is for you why is it that you're the only one who can't? he wants you to know but at the same time he feels he's not right for you, a dilemma he handles by fucking up over and over again.

wishing him morning in response you give him a look which silently delivers your question of what is going on. you did hear them last night (more like her), but you didn’t know it was her her. you weren’t even expecting her to be the one. after the conversation with jake yesterday, she was the last person you would have ever assumed. he sends you a flying look that he’ll explain everything later, shushing you off before you speak out loud.

“yunie,” your ears perk up at her voice, eyes narrowing in a deadly stare at the nickname you exclusively call him with, leaving her crusty mouth. certainly, like jake you blossom a definite possession over names too. perhaps it's the effect of living with him 24/7 but you seem to have picked up a lot of his antics.

jake’s eyes shift to look at you for a moment and then he’s running a hand through his hair, dropping his sweet conduct to get back into his usual cold fuckboy self. he absolutely does not like the way your brows turn down and the pretty smile you were previously adorning for him falling off your pretty lips. he can tolerate anything but seeing you bothered in any way. “you’re still here? it's better if you leave soon, candy doesn’t like all this,” walking around her to the other side of the counter and into the kitchen to open the upper cabinets, jake ignores her like a plague as if he wasn't showing her heaven last night. but alas, nothing comes above you, she should have known that.

“what do you want for breakfast candy? should i make you some toast? or do you want your usual dose of sugar?” his palms rest on the granite countertop, leaning against it slightly while turning to fix his gaze on you. it makes eunsang rage with anger, throwing you a demeaning look before she disappears into jake's room.

the moment his bedroom door closes, you feel the unfamiliar weight on your shoulders relax a tad bit,“my watermelon slush please,” finding your cozy spot on the kitchen counter, you give him your most adorable pout feeling like you had to gain back his warmth after the hookup. your legs dangle over the height between, toes softly brushing against jake's calves every two seconds. watching him prepare your drink, you decide to voice out the thing that had been disturbing since the moment you walked out your room,”did you like make a friends with benefit kind of arrangement or something?” it comes out in a low whisper, afraid if you said it too loud it'd come true. the thought of it disturbs you for some reason, it’s not new for you to see random girls in your apartment; or to hear them while they’re at it. yet it still gives you a sort of uneasy feeling, something you do not like feeling.

“it was a last time kind of deal actually,” he stops briefly to give you a quilty smile. finishing your sweet slushy just as eunsang hastily steps out, wearing what you assume her clothes from the previous night. she slows down to observe as jake hands you the cup, repulsively watching you take a sip,“is it good?” hearing him speak in a tone way different than the one she’s acquainted with him using with her has stomp her way out in a grumpy fit.

looking up from the edge of your cup with hopes to give her a sly stare, your eyes follow her figure, flinching silently when she bangs the door close harshly,“bitch,” you comment, hooded orbs shifting back to jake who scowls in disapproval,”language candy,” he reminds, knowing very well it does nothing to stop you.

“sorry yunie but she's so agressive, and for what?” you whine.

“from what i’ve seen, you’re way more aggressive,” jake laughs softly, index finger coming to poke at your cheek tenderly.

with full cheeks, you grin like a cheshire cat and jake feels his heart rate speeding up, who gave you the permission to be the cutest person he's ever known? the urge to kiss you just keeps growing with each passing day and with with each little sneaky smile and doe eyes you give him.

“we need to get the groceries this week, i have after classes soccer practice for the next four days and we're not gonna last that long,” the thought of spending the next four evenings alone in the unit is gloomier than the half assed ham and cheese toast jake makes for himself. if only you said yes to some proper breakfast, his taste buds and stomach wouldn't be suffering so much.

you nod as if he has eyes on his back, knowing well he's gonna want you with him but not force you, if you'd say no. whatever you want, is whatever he does.

“‘m gonna go take a shower first then,” hopping down, you place your empty mug in the sink, and skip to your room to take your bath supplies.

“let’s shower together,” jake's friskiness thrives in the way he shouts with an undertone of mischief. watching you with a teasing gaze as you step out the threshold of your bedroom door. a tiny smirk spreading onto his lips when you scrunch your nose in a grimace. cute, he mouths thinking you wouldn't notice but god you do. he's clearly joking but you can’t help feeling flustered internally. keeping up with his flirty and touchy stunts and tricks should have made it easier for you by now, but over a year in and you're yet to find yourself getting used to it. he’s too attractive and hot to get used to; at least that’s what excuse your brain gives you, which honestly is true to some extent. his looks score a lot of points and you can't deny that.

“and if we get locked in there, who’s gonna get us out? you know the door lock has problems,” you complain in a soft groan which, in his eyes is more adorable with the little annoyance you show. if you think you could ever intimidate him, you probably will because he'll melt right away to even think of a counter back.

his stance straightens at that, a fleeting look of flabbergast clouding his face before he’s breaking out in a taunt of smile, eyes closing in on you in a brazen look,“so does that mean if the lock was fine you’d actually shower together with me,” he feels this triumph of emotions, a sudden rush of sugar at the realization that'd probably maybe perhaps someday let him get in the shower together with you. the sheer excitement he experiences through his veins is over the roof, just the possibility of something so intimate with you is a bite of golden spoon for him.

he purposely stops all he’s doing to stare at you, moving his eyebrows cheekily, trying to provoke you,“i never said that,” you stick your tongue out at him, closing the door in a soft slam and crying out a ‘you’re sick in the head!’

“only for you!” jake yells back, chuckling to himself as he leaves the room.

two hours later you’re both strolling through the isles of shelving, bright florescent lighting, end displays of popular products, sale signs, banners with store mottoes, isle signs with product locations, rows and rows of household products and everything you'd always spend lots of time looking through until jake has to drag you back home.

he pushes the cart while you look around for items to throw in and cross out one by one from your checklist. the way you both discuss and bicker over what to keep in the cart and what not to every two minutes will lead any sane person to conclude you as a couple. you both would also admit it feels as such. how he insists on taking what you like while you argue that you’re on a diet and need to cut down on the consumption and desires of your sweet tooth. it feels sweet, he feels sweet. and you make him want to coddle you so bad, like what do you mean you're on a diet? you're perfect already. too perfect for him.

“i’m taking the pop tarts!” you hear him shout from two or probably three Isles away while you look through some new make up launches,”…okay fine!” capturing the attention of an old couple who glance at your way and mutter something you don’t quite catch but you assume it’s probably about how annoying you both are, shouting at the mart.

“yunie look these are so pretty,” you point at the line of lipgloss as jake comes over with cart. he hums in agreement, watching you scan through the shades in an animated mood, mumbling over the names and speaking of how it'd look good for an everyday look or with summer dress you recently got. oh how smitten he feels, observing the way you seem so pumped up simply over gloss.

“there's no mirror— “

“try it on me,” oh he's bewitched under your spell.

jake stands still as you apply the mauve on him, staring at you through hooded eyes,”oh, this one’s really pretty on you!” you beam, looking up at him as if he could see it too.

“it'd look prettier on you,” he's hardly able to whisper out, gaze trained on the way you part your lips while you wipe it off his and apply another. if he didn't have a strong self control, by now he would have shoved his tongue down your throat in the dirtiest and messiest kiss you'd ever known. knocking your breath out, as well as his. he's already on the verge of losing it with every little touch you leave on his lips, wetting your own as a habit.

“which one should i take?” you ask something cutely, jake almost feels guilty for the thoughts swimming in his head.

“i’ll buy all of it for you, we can do something like a chapstick challenge you know. the one where you kiss and guess the flavor,” he teases loving the tiny exasperated glare you throw him. “yunn, be serious! which one?”

“these two?” he points to ones you commented were pretty feeling impatient at the conjured up image of you wearing the colors on with you tiny, sexy little sundresses you got hidden in your closet. please feel guilty man he thinks.

in the end jake (successfully) convinces you to continue your diet later over the summer break offering to help you with it. and grabs a bunch of packets of your favorite snacks, your favorite brand’s watermelon lollipops and not to forget the fruit itself. checking all out he insists on carrying everything himself, only handing you the little bag that held your lollies in case you'd want one on the way back.

the subway is more crowded than usual, scarcely any seat left. it takes you a whole minute to scan around for an empty one, immediately encouraging jake to take it. a silly game of rock paper scissors to decide who stands, insisting firmly that he sit when you end up winning. the grocery bags rest by his foot and you stand between his legs, holding onto the bar wobbling every now and then. it’s just one stop left when jake suddenly pulls you onto his lap, adjusting you comfortably on his thighs and placing his hands on your legs possessively. you turn to look at him, lashes brushing against his skin and lips parting in the slightest at the adrenaline you feel pumping into your fast beating heart. the muscles in his chest feel firm at the faint touch of your back against him, the thumping of his own heart similar to that of yours.

he leans closer to whisper in your ear,“that creep right there kept staring you up and down,” pointing with a discreet move of his eyes as he drills holes through his stern gaze fixed on the said guy. you on the other hand, grow hot with irritation, perhaps just as hot and bothered you are feeling jake pressed so close. an abrupt and sharp impulse of anger.

“i’ll show him the fuck he was staring at," you mutter out, teeth gritted, and hands almost forming into fists, expression as innocent as always. jake seems to catch on to what you’re about to do and before you can get up from lap, his hold on you gets tighter,"okay, i know you hate this candy, but i don’t want you getting hurt in any way, if he does anything i’ll make sure to set him right, for now i think he got it that he’s not gonna stare at you however he wants,” hand grabing yours in gentle caresses along the expanse of your arm. delicate and slow like a soothing rub. his touch just as enticing and stimulating it is, is also calming, knowing exactly how to pacify your hot headedness. jake finds that really hot about you, the way you look like you couldn't harm a bug but he's seen you throw kicks and punches (for the right reasons) ‘looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you’ he never knew that's his type. sometimes and really only some rare times he wonders if you're not as innocent as he thinks you are, getting rock hard at the thought of it, dick twitching multiple times imagining you saying and doing things that an angel like you shouldn't be.

for the rest of the ride he manages to lull you back to your sweet candy mode, making you laugh at his lame pick up lines, and occasionally tickling your sides. head falling back into his shoulder in cute giggles and hips rolling on him, damn only he knows how bad he's holding back. as shameless as he is he'd probably jump your bones right infront of everyone to see. thankfully you bring the decency in your relationship.

when your stop comes, he intertwines his fingers you as you walk out the compartment, just in case you decide to give the dude a slap before leaving.

“'m gonna flatten out all your abs today, you'll need to gym again,” jake chuckles, feeling you roll over his body like mei’s lint roller as he lays on your favorite fluffy kuromi rug typing away on his laptop an essay deadlined for tomorrow. the weight of your body on and off and the touch of your hot skin he feels funsies,“you do this all the time, candy and my abs have never left. how can i let them? knowing how much you love it,” reaching behind to hold you still on his back. you are glad he can't see the way your cheeks warm up at that, a bashful look on your face remembering all the times he's caught you ogling at his body.

“why are you sulking?” he asks when you don't respond with a whine like you usually do. aware that you behave this way either when you’re over the top bathing in happiness or dissatisfied with something.

“’m gonna gain weight now because of you, i’ll see all the snacks and sweets in the pantry and not be able to resist binge eating,” you lightly punch at the curve of his shoulders, dropping your head into the crook of his neck in a pout. jake turns around swiftly to hold you in a hug, wanting nothing more than to cheer you up,“i love your belly anyhow, whether it’s visible or not,” giving the plump flesh of your stomach a zephyr-like pinch. you wince playfully drawing back inches to tease him only to drop down into his arms to hug him back seconds later,“yeah whatever,” his words make you feel butterflies, a turmoil of frenzy and fuzzy feelings, cheeks growing warm once again, and the warmth spreading all over your mind this time. why does he have to be so sweet to you?

you both stay like that for a while breathing slowly, and taking in the comfort of a hug, the room saturated with a restful and serene silence. you’re the first to pull away,“you should finish that essay, i have to prepare for my test next week,” jake groans at the loss of your touch, wailing out with his hands as you leave the room.

”i’m joining you as soon as i finish this!”

four days later on the weekend, you sit on the couch alone, wrapped in the thin lilac charmeuse blanket jake got for you (he said it the softness of it, reminded him of you.) waiting for your him to join you. eight in the morning with ‘tangled’ running on the tv, it's not something jake would ever want to do, but he gives in because you like it; bonus sometimes when you get a little sleepy, he grabs the chance to cuddle you as close as he can, leaving a few fluttering kisses on your temple and cheeks. he's grateful you never say anything about it and just let him be.

“yunie, can you pass me the watermelon in the fridge? the one from yesterday,” you spare a quick glance towards jake as he walks out his room. his headset rests loosely around his neck, half naked, wearing only a pair of sweatpants and his black hair all dishevelled: looking even more messier due to the perm he got last week. “yeah sure,” the rasp in his voice as he mumbles out softly gives away the fact that he probably stayed up all night again.

taking the half a piece of watermelon out and grabbing a spoon, jake scoops out a small little portion. going up to your slouched figure on the couch, and extending it out for you to eat,“here you go, candy,” he does it quite often, infact he loves to feed you. seeing your cheeks full and your eyes sparkling makes him feel fond as much as it turns him on. picturing you the same way on your knees between his legs with his dick stuffed in your mouth. choking and gagging on him, tears dropping down your pretty eyes while you stare up at him with this same doe look. it'd be heaven. even more so if he would have to teach you how to do it right, further fueling the massive corruption kink he seems to have harboured after meeting you.

he passes you melon after you take the bite, sitting beside you with his legs crossed. eyes trained on the way you fill in more in your mouth than you can handle, face all round and full,”eat slowly,” he flicks at your forehead.

“do you want to go buy a new sofa at ikea tomorrow? this one’s pretty small,” he adds a minute later, raising his brows subtly.

“well, first of all i didn’t plan to have a roommate and secon- i swear if it’s for your hook-ups i’m kicking you out!” it comes out in a yell, voice raising with every syllable before you spit a seed at him. one that due to your bad aiming skills instead of landing on his face, falls and sticks to the skin of his chest. damn those muscles they get you feelings things you probably shouldn't be.

putting away the watermelon on your tea table, you pick up mei and settle her on your lap, pulling back your blanket which had slipped off in a crackle of laughter,“this is public space have some decency before you have such thoughts!”

“stop making me appear like a horndog!” he laughs along, whinning at your false accusations in giggles and a look of faux disbelief.

“well that is exactly what you are!” you throw the closest cushion at his face. grinning with your signature cutesy doe eyes and jake is a goner. he always is.

“no don't do this me,”

“change the sheets then, it's your turn this week,” turning away from him, you fix your eyes on rapunzel climbing down the tower. trying to avoid the way he stares at you with betrayal, immediately scooting over to tickle you.

“you cheeky liar it's your turn,” his hands glossing over your ticklish areas.

“i love you,” in a fit of uncontrolled giggles, you shout. pushing against him to escape only to have your wrists pulled away, held together in a tight grasp and pinned above your head. “candy! i love you is not gonna get you out of chores come on i'll help you. we'll watch tangled later. together, i promise,” his laughter dies down with every word he utters, whispering out the last part as he becomes aware of the proximity between you two. so close you both think, breaths slowing down and heartbeats picking up the pace with each passing second.

“we're doing this okay?” jake whispers again, albeit, his tone a tad bit more heavy and bothered. an ambiguous daze clouding over, as if he is talking about something entirely different than just changing sheets. a twinge of lust bubbling inside. having you under him like this makes him realize just how desperately he wants you, and how bad his strength kink blooms for you. to have you whimpering and moaning, gaze all hazy as you let him do whatever he wants with you. damn he feels his dick twitch at that, gulping nervously hoping you wouldn't notice.

“you look like eugene,” you mumble out suddenly and jake feels his thirst rise off the roof, because the size difference between the characters? he wouldn't deny he thought of you the first time he saw the animation. wanting you have you in his arms the same way.

“then you must be my rapunzel,” you feel even more flustered if that's possible, your stomach twisting and twirling at his words until,”now come on we gotta keep the house clean for mother gothel,” jake let's his grip on you loosen, taking a moment to get off you.

“yunie!”

“i'll make you some sweet soy-glazed potatoes too later,” he voice drowns out as he enters you bedroom first.

“well i guess it's okay then,” you giggle following after him.

“candy that's not how you tuck in the corners,” jake scolds you for nth time, running after you to fix the edges you mess up deliberately time and again. “hey! candy! get down!” you make it a chaos for him, jumping onto the unmade bed and messing up the sheets all the way.

“oops,” there's a devilish grin on your face as jake pauses to watch you have your sugar rush episode.

“if you wanna wrestle again and end up under me, just say so,” he teases, inching closer and grabbing you by the waist. you both laugh again as if you weren't dripping with need for each other just moments ago. he picks you up and walks to the door putting you down by the sill,”i seriously need to get this done, you go and peel the potatoes for me,” you can't cook for the sake of god and letting you use knives is like a deathwish, jake can only hope peeling will keep you busy and safe enough to not end up with cuts anywhere.

the doorbell rings just as you step into the kitchen, walking back to the front in a sluggish sigh. feeling utter regret for answering the door, the instant you notice the figure outside. not wanting to reveal the presence to jake, you shut the door behind.

he peeps out your room at the sound of it, shrugging it off as nothing because you’ve done it lot many times: when your friends show up because you simply don’t want them to fall under his radar as prey.

you spare an indifferent glance at the way eunsang stands tall; hands folded with a cocky look on her rather gorgeous face. she's a beauty and you hate to admit that, a vibe so opposite of you it makes you insecure considering jake's hooked up with her more than a few times. “i’m here to see jake,” she states, tilting her head to point over at the closed door, all the sugary honeyed act she keeps up around him nowhere to be seen.

“and he doesn’t want to see you, didn’t he tell you it was the last time,” you counterattack, folding your arms and straightening up to look intimidating. your stare is one of taunt, carrying a gaze of boredom in hopes to establish that you're one to reckon with.

“are you jake? i said i want to talk to jake not you,” her heels click in impatience and underlying disgust in the tone she uses with you gets on your nerves.

you close your eyes for a moment trying to calm the annoyance in you before it turns into anger, tongue poking at the side of your cheek, “and are you deaf? i said he does not want to talk to you,” assert dominance, assert dominance you repeat over and over in your head.

but what she says next makes you lose your temper.

jake, the very epicenter of it all, on the other hand has no idea of what's going on outside until there's a scream that sounds too much like you, one turning into many more. it's frantic and inhumane, the speed at which he runs out. dropping everything and anything. there in broad daylight he finds you and eunsang trying to rip each other's hair out in the thankfully empty hallway. he doesn't know if he should be worried more about your scalp hurting or your throat tearing from how loudly you scream over eunsang. his hands flail as he contemplates on breaking the fight or letting you calm down, which you probably won't as he knows. he grabs onto eunsang's hands on your head trying to loosen her grip on your hair, concerned over the pain you must be feeling while you're there now trying to kick her between her legs. she's shocked to say the least, watching him latch you off her in a swift motion and throw you over his shoulder. he takes you back inside quickly, groaning at your fists pounding against his back in a protest,”fucking let go of me! i’m gonna give her a good piece of my mind!”

“candy language!” putting you down by the kitchen softly, he grasps the side of your arms and forces you to look into his eyes,“stop fighting all the time, stay here i’ll talk to her, okay?” he speaks slowly as an attempt to calm you. when you wiggle off in a scornful shrug, he asks again, this time moving to cup your face, a tender look in his eyes,“okay?” you nod in a defeated sigh and he's out the door before you can say anything else. you're upset, really upset, you know what you did outside was not decent yet you can't get over the fact that he left you in here to go back to talk to her. he was on your tail last week trying to beg you to help him get rid of her and even shooed her out the unit harshly, what more is there to talk about?

truth to be told, this was how he first met you, or should he say saw you. it was the move in day, he had all the necessities for the week packed in a travel suitcase, with the other stuff to be brought in later on. he was waiting for the elevator in the lobby, more tense and anxious than ever to meet the girl he was going to be living with a good four years of his college life. hoping she'd not treat him like some stranger, or be someone impossible to get close to hash live with. along with little bits of curiosity and hopes again, that she'd be a pretty and sweet girl maybe someone help could form some kind of benefits with.

however never in a million years did he ever expect it to be the cute yet fierce girl in the elevator. to say he was flabbergasted would be an understatement, he was literally blown off his feet, scared or impressed, his confusion was massive. when the doors of the elevator had opened he had found you slapping a middle aged man,”fun? you think groping my butt ‘s fun, you sicko,” kicking him in the balls next. hard. jake had gulped at that, hard. heart on a pause. the look of feigned innocence on your face as you did all that. damn jake swears it was that moment he fell. maybe not romantically but you definitely got his dick hard.

you looked super cute, and you knew how to fight, jake thought he hit the jackpot when you turned out to be his roommate. pretty you were, definitely, and sweet wasn't even a question; you were sweet to him and you are a lot of sweet. the only thing that remains a mystery till now is if you'd taste as sweet. jake hopes he can find that out.

he returns a few minutes later, lips pursed in a small smile as he shuts the front door. it grows even wider when his eyes find you,“so your soy glazed potatoes,” he chuckles walking over to the kitchen and getting other things out.

“she called me a slut for living with a guy like you and i was in the midst of giving her a lecture on actually how good of a person you are-” you bang on the counter with a thud and turn around to face him,“and you dragged me in!” whinning in a pout that looked as upset as your furrowed brows.

jake glances over in amusement, halting to give you another grin as he boops your nose gently,“my darling candy, i’m only good to you,” the glare you throw his way only makes him snicker with adoration. the little flicker of bashfulness you feel making you break out in a smile which (thankfully, for you) jake doesn't notice.

“whatever, i’m gonna take a long shower. do not disturb me!” you leave in a rush afraid if you stay too long he'd see it all on your face.

ten minutes later, as you tiptoe to get your favorite shower gel from the shelf above the mirror, luck decides to remind you why you shouldn't ever stay away from jake sim. feet slipping on the wet floor, body colliding against the cold tiles in a thud loud enough to have jake come running.

“candy, you're okay? what happened? should i open the door? ‘m coming in,” his voice is laced with worry, snapping open the door to find you laying flat down, though to his relief not unconscious. he picks you carefully, bringing you to your room and seating you on the edge of the bed to check for any injuries. hands delicately caressing all over and asking if it hurts any where,”you're so clumsy, always getting me worried like shit,”

“language,” you giggle, trying to make him laugh and it works.

“sorry, just please be careful, okay?” his fingers brush back your hair as you give him a small nod,“do you feel pain anywhere?” another nod, and this one ticks his alarms.

“where!” your fingers reach out to press against the brooding crease between his brows, attempting to remove the frown from his face. and jake melts at that, feeling his heart flutter at your cuteness, god he loves this side of you so much.

“you little demon, look what happens if you don't shower with me,” laughing out together, oh how he wishes it were like this forever. and jake sim has never thought of a forever ever before.

a month passes by in the blink of an eye, your routines and relationship staying the same as always, classes, his soccer practice and your weekly cleaning day. but what seems to have changed is his routine of bringing over girls, the number alarmingly cutting down day by day (which currently sits at zero) and what you haven’t noticed- his display of affection towards you growing more and more. yet you think nothing special of it, assuming that perhaps now he got a grip over himself. which is partially true. jake thought of you as deserving someone better, so it was only right that he became better. and what better way than to start with quitting the position of campus’ resident fuckboy.

after an all nighter the previous day, coming back from your classes you get straight to bed. changing you clothes and getting tucked under the blanket from around eight in the evening. jake returns from his soccer practice later, unaware of the fact that you're already passed out. opening your door to let you know of his night out plans,“candy, i’m gonna go out with jay and sunghoon! make sure to have your dinne- oh you were sleeping? i didn’t know i’m so sorry candy,” he mumbles out in a soft whisper towards the end, supressing a smile watching your sleepy figure under the covers. trying to rub out the drowsiness from your eyes; heavy blinking and a small pout, his cute girl.

“it’s okay no need to get up, go back to sleep, i’ll be back in the morning,” approaching the bed as you lay back down, he pats your head in a 'sleep well’ before leaving.

it's probably past midnight when you wake up to constant ringing of calls. fumbling around for your phone in a daze only to find a dozen calls from an unknown number and a bunch of texts from the same. it's jay, asking you to get jake from the bar they're at. saying the guy's refusing to go back with anyone that's not you: whining for your presence and making it hard for his two friends.

'where is my candy?’ jay and sunghoon are sick and tired of hearing it all night.

by the time you get him back to the apartment, it's three and your bones hurt from the weight of his body leaning all over you. it doesn't help that all he does is giggle and throw himself over you. there's been a lot of times you have seen him drunk, probably more than a dozen, but he's never looked as wasted as today. sunghoon told you it's because he drank way more than usual, and unbeknownst to you that you are the sole reason, you wonder of the things that plague his mind to the extent of drinking so much.

dragging him into his room you have him sit on his bed, going through his closet and getting him a pair of sweatpants and the first shirt you can grab. “come on yunie, get changed,” you hand him the clothes, turning away when he takes everything off nonchalantly. even though he likely would rather want you to look, from the many times he's said it before ‘why’re you looking away, candy it's all for you,’ his exact words. the bane of your existence.

after he's changed, you wipe the sweat off his body with a wet towel as much as you can. giving him a glass of water before leaving for your room when he grabs your wrist and stops you with his puppy eyes.

in the morning, around noon jake is the first one to wake up and having no memory of the previous night besides the fact that he was drunk. he sits at his desk chair, hands in his hair, watching you sleep on the other side of his bed, clad in his shirt. it’s like he feels everything is over and done from here. he did what he swore never to do, this was the very first thing he pinned on his mind as an important note: not using you even if he has very obvious feelings for you. he tugs on his hair in frustration, angry at himself for not staying in his lane when drunk. with his head hung in guilt, he doesn't notice you stirring awake, sitting up at the sight of his hunched figure.

“yun? are you okay? is the hangover severe? should i make you something for it?” startled at your soft voice, he flinches visibly. a thousand scenarios running through his mind and not one ends up good.

“you don’t even know any hangover recipes,” jake mumbles almost inaudibly.

“i can just search on the internet and try my best, it’s not like i’ll give you anything inedible,” you teaee, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere you feel in the air.

it takes him a moment to speak again, sounding as miserable as he has never before,“candy i’m,” he halts, gulping to hold back the lump in his throat,“i’m sorry, i really didn’t mean to, i don’t why i, it's all my fault,” he stops again, leaving you confused and dumbfounded,“what are you saying? what apology?” it is when his eyes shift to stare at what you’re clad in, staying there for a hard minute when you get a rough idea of what he could be thinking of. your cheeks grow hot at the realization, shaking your head when unholy images pop up in your subconscious.

but the butterflies fly away just as fast as they came as his words dawn uppn you. even if it didn’t happen the fact that he wouldn’t mean it, want it, regret it has something in you twisting in pain, are you so bad? or that he actually really thinks of you as his little sister? that you read his affections wrong, assumed his feelings differently? your heart breaks more than a little at that.

“why? is it because i’m not like the others you have been with? because i’m not like eunsang? or because i’m not her? the one you were smiling so hard after talking to? are you dating he-”

“that’s the problem! you’re not like her! you’re not like anyone i've known before! you’re special and i’m afraid i’ll lose you, things will change and just i’ll have to get over you without even getting a chance,” it's the first time he's ever raised his voice at you, and the first time ever he's sounded so desperate, weak and dejected. so vulnerable.

the split moment of sadness dissipates with every word that sinks in. the revelation of a(n after)drunk confession. the fact that you're a different kind of special to him, that he would want a chance to be with you, that he's afraid to lose you. you supres the urge to laugh when it all settles into your understanding. having a better grasp over the bigger picture. your steps are slow and calculated as you walk over to him, sitting across his lap and cupping his cheeks in a fleeting breath of courage. his eyes almost bulge out when you brush your lips lightly against his, mumbling softly,“nothing happened, but if you still want i can give you a chance, it’s going to be hard though tolerating me, think wisely,” you giggle and jake malfunctions for an instant before grabbing you in a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“of course, of course i do want it, i’ve always wanted it,” chanting out in a trance.

“your lips tasted like watermelon,” he mutters out some time after, eyes locking with yours in an intense pull. still in a daze that out of all the bad things that could've happened it was none. literally none plus you perhaps wanting him just as much as he wants you.

“i had some in the morning before you woke up, anyhow yours taste like alcohol and your breath is horrible, go and freshen up,” you push at his shoulder, getting off him to leave the room to cook something. probably (as you said) a recipe searched up on the web, hopefully edible enough for a hungover person.

when he comes out later, all showered and back to the jake you know: the one who likes his hair slightly messy and almost never in a shirt. “why were- are you wearing my shirt then?”

“you practically begged me to last night while sobbing for i don’t know what reason,” he's a bit flustered at that, but hey, it's what got him here, you gotta do what you gotta do.

“candy, you wanna go out tonight? jay and sunghoon wanted to hang out but i don't wanna leave you so i said i’d bring you along,” jake asks, knocking at your door.

it takes you a little over a minute to open up but jake's does not mind it at all for obvious reasons, his jaw comically falling to the floor when you walk out in your tiny little blue sundress and the shade of lipgloss he was dying to see you in. you're unreal.

“yes! i heard you on call earlier,”

“oh my god candy, gimme a princess twirl,” the amount of desire he feels for you right now is unfathomable. biting his lips at the sight of your lace panties underneath that faintly flash him in the mini twirl you do. can you get any hotter?

“just fifteen minutes and i'll be ready,” he got ten minutes to do something about the boner he just popped, and it's more than enough to have him rub one out with what he just saw. maybe add a little hint of imagination and wondering what you'd sound like if he were to touch you down there. especially given the fact that the likelihood of it happening were through the roof now. you almost kissed last week, anything could happen at this point. and jake's dick gets impossibly sensitive at the odds of it.

at the restaurant, jay and sunghoon sit in an awkward silence, watching you both be all over each other. when they agreed for jake to bring his girl along, they didn't expect it to be so bad.

“um jake talks a lot about you,” sunghoon says trying to start a conversation that he knows probably wouldn't go anywhere.

“he does? that's so sweet,” you smile, giggling over something jake whispers in your ear, his hand palming over the plush of your exposed thighs,”what do you wanna eat?” sunghoon nerves feel boiled at the way jake completely skips over his attempt to talk to you. while jay sips at wine, agonizingly slow knowing this is how it's gonna be from now on. their friend is a changed man.

“i have this picture of jake from middle school, you'd love to see it i promise,” a little tipsy, sunghoon's persistence to put himself in the equation albeit admirable, annoys the fuck out of jake, scowling at the other well of aware of the so called picture he wants to share.

“jay man, take care of him. candy and i are going home,” jake gives them a tight lipped smile, holding your rather drunk self (it's just wine you had said)

“see you later ca- y/n,” at first jay leans in for a friendly hug but— nevermind. the way jake stares at him is scarily weird.

jake makes sure to have you sit on the couch before he leaves to get you water but you're sprawled out on the floor when he comes back. mumbling something about how cool the tiles feel against your skin,”come on you should drink some water,” jake pulls you up on your ass, sitting cross legged on the floor beside you. his hand softly holds the back of your head as he brings the glass to your mouth.

“alright say, what did you wanna say?”

“i wanna kiss you,” if jake thinks the pout on your lips is the cutest thing ever then the words you say must have to be the hottest thing ever. how can a simple word like kiss make his heart flutter so bad? and it's not even lust at this point.

he fulfils your wish without a thought, leaning in to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. sucking on your bottom lip a second long before he pulls away and boops your nose. no tongue and no other intentions. the after taste of your gloss lingering in his mouth.

“let me tell you a secret,” you whisper out, moving over to his lap, knees on the floor each side.

“i knew you stole my kuromi panties,” he's shocked you know about it, he made sure to be extra careful with it, though his nasty ass was internally hoping you'd catch him.

“mhm, i do have it with me but it's not really wearable now,” he did not see this becoming something sexual but the moment you brought up the panties, you might as well have brought up his dick. man practically re-lived every single time he used it to jerk off, all those orgasms coming to life at once.

“you need to punished!” you whine,

“what do you wanna do?” and jake feels his dick get harder at that.

“can we kiss again?” oh my god, you make him feel so fuzzy and horny at the same time, it's unbelievable. in the guide of jake sim: to make him horny is relatively easy, to get him all fuzzy is once in a lifetime and to get him both at the same time is impossible. yet you do it so effortlessly.

jake answers you with his lips against yours again, relishing in the feeling of them on his own. all those times he wondered of how it'd feel like to kiss you seemed so lame now that he actually did. no imagination could ever come close to way he feels right now. his hand comes up to cup the side of your neck, his grip firm as he pulls away for a moment,”i wanna love you so much and take you on cute little dates and buy you all the food you want and fuck you so hard you only remember my name,”he mumbles against your lips in a bit whisper, letting you take a breath before he dives right back in. this time he lets his tongue slide in, rubbing against your own for a short while only to pull back and go for another trying to keep your lips pressed together for as long as he could. finally pulling away when he feels you push against him a little too roughly, a crawl of shudders all over his skin at the roll of your hips against his bulge.

“wan’ you to fuck me too,” you whine, this time desperately.

“fuck candy, you're drunk we shouldn't be doing this,” he reminds, failing miserably to hold himself back. his hands keep twitching to just grab your hips and grind you down on his dick until you're both cumming together.

“i’m not, i swear. i just drank a little because i couldn't have done this all sober,” even through the layers of clothes, jake can feel your neediness dropping with the way you roll your hips harder against him. speeding up when you think he's pushing you away, but he's just grabbing you closer by the waist. he can't deny how wanted he feels right now, feeling like he'd explode any second. the fuck were you so horny for him?

“are you sure this is okay?” he asks again. no matter how bad he's dying to fuck you, he'll never do it if you don't to.

“‘s okay, please yunie,” you feel his hands slide along your thighs and in between your legs. fingers faintly brushing over the wet patch on your panties in a sharp inhale. he grazes two fingers against your clit, testing the waters. rubbing harder when he feels your breathing pick up it's pace, switching to spank your clit impossibly fast having lost control at the sound of your wanton whimpers.

“don’t move and take it baby,” jake growls, pushing you flush against his chest, making your back arch more and more into him. tits bouncing right up in his face as he bends down to nibble as the exposed skin between them.

he stops for a moment only to push your panties to the side and touch you raw. rubbing rougher and so intense, your legs feel number from pleasure,”has anyone touched you like before?” his jaw clenches hard, eyes dark with want as they remain fixated at the sight of his hands on your pussy. fuck he finally knows what touching you feels like.

“ngh�� no, fuck!” and it boosts jake's ego through the roof, he doesn't think he's ever felt as horny as he feels right now. the thought of being the first to touch you in your princess parts, the first you have seen you putty like this, the first to be the one to get you like this. fuck, fuck, fuck! he feels so turned on it's literally inhumane. precum oozing out his tip with every twitch of his dick.

“mm, gonna put my fingers in you,” you feel one of jake's fingers press into you, sliding inside easily with how dripping wet you are. the pornographic moan you let out when he slowly slips in another and curves up has his dick twitch so damn hard he thinks he just came untouched. you sound so cute yet so fucking hot, his mind is in a spiral of everything he wants to do to have you moan like that again and again until you're so drunk on pleasure, you only want him all the time.

“shit you're so tight and warm, can't imagine how good you'd feel around my cock,” his eyes keenly hooked on the way you raise your hips to meet the thrusts halfway,”y-yun, ‘s feels too g-good ah,”

“fuck you're so hot and so perfect for me,” his words travel straight to your core having you clench tight around his fingers and all of a sudden you find your oragasm hitting you as violently as jake continues to run you through it, fast and painfully pleasurable. enamoured and obsessed with the way your doe eyes struggle to stay open, mouth parting in a loud whine, back arching and hips shooting up. god you're a piece of art and jake doesn't think he's ever gonna want anyone other than you.

he immediately stands up with you in his arms, walking over to the kitchen counter and placing you gently on the cold marble. his fingers run through your hair in a soft caress, tucking in the messy strands behind your ears,”you sure you want this? we can stop here if you want. just say the word and i’ll stop,”

“wan’ yun to be my first,” you whimper wearily, jake feels his heart skip a couple of beats. your first, he wants to be your last too and you to be his last.

”gonna make you cum so much harder on my cock,” he places his hands on your thighs in a tight grip and forces them apart fervently. he so damn wants to eat you out but he also wants to feel you cum around his cock, it's a hard choice to make but his cock feels so angry and heavy slick from all the precum he shot out each time you whimpered or moaned or whined, if he'd wait to get his dick wet he'd probably actually come untouched from your sounds and reactions alone. and only god knows(jay too oops) how bad jake sim wants the first time he cums with you to be deep inside you. so much so that he might develop a kink of getting you knocked up (nope you're too young for that!)

he takes his pants off in a snap, practically ripping his boxers along with it, grabbing his rock hard dick, throbbing and red at the tip and trusting into his fist a couple of times. breathing heavy at the way you watch him with your lips between your teeth. he wonders how good it'd feel to watch you touch yourself while he does the same, cumming together with your eyes locked. but he probably doesn't have that kind of self control to just watch you touch yourself, when he can do it himself?

he taps his tip against your clit for a hot minute sliding it along your folds in a strained groan. you're so embarrassing wet, it's like jake could shove himself inside immediately and your you'd hardly feel pain for a while. however, holding back his desires, he pushes into you slowly, holding your body close and stroking your back soothingly,”let me know when i can move,” a tender kiss at your forehead, trying to make sure you know you have the say it in.

jake groans as you give him the go seconds later,”mhmmm candy⁠— baby,” moaning soft and lustful as he pulls out till the tip and thrusts all the way in. your insides feel so warm and gummy, walls clenching around him crazy tight. he thinks he'll lose his mind and end up cumming embarrassingly fast like a teen getting pussy for the first time. the way he feels the pleasure throb in his veins so intense all over his body, it's almost numbing.

your hands loop around his neck, fingers scratching at his back as he pounds into you rough, his pace hard and fast pushing all his body weight against you.

“don't think i can ever get enough of you,”

the sight of the thin straps of your dress slipped to the sides, tits almost spilling out of the front gets jake going, fueling him to grab at you anywhere and everywhere his hands can possibly go,”tell me im dreaming fuckkk— i've wanted you for so long, can't count the number of times i've jerked off to the thought of having you like this, so pretty and dumb under me,” all those evenings when you roamed around the unit in the shortest shorts and the smallest crops, driving him mad shit insane, having to sneak off into the bathroom multiple times. fisting his cock hard, groaning and biting back his moans as he got off to the thought of you, while you sat all unaware and innocent on the other side of the wall.

he stops abruptly, pulling out in a frenzy and turning you around on your heels and pushing you by the back of your neck to lay against the cool granite. one hand going down to grab at your thigh and hook it up on the counter, drooling at the way your pussy glistens from the angle. he shoves his dick back in without a warning, feeling your ass collide against him harsh yet fervid.

you both pant in rasps when his cock hits a sensitive spot inside you. he shifts to angle himself just right to repeatedly brush against that spot and you mewl out loud at that, so loud your neighbours probably know what you're up to.

“fuck i can't stand not seeing your cute face,” jake bends over to grab you by your throat, pulling you up and flush against him, head resting back at his shoulders as he forces to look at him, fingers gripping your jaw softly,”eyes on me, okay baby?” grunting from deep within his chest, a wild grin on his face as he watches you get lost in ecstasy,”i’ll get you addicted to my cock,” just like how addicted he already is with your pussy and everything about you.

his other hand reaches up to tug the front of your dress down, groping up one of your tits, a silk touch to see your reaction. loving the way it's so obvious how sensitive you are there. mouth parting open with you in sensuous gasps as he twists your nipple harshly, rubbing the tip with his thumb. your walls clench a little too hard and your back arches off as you push your hips back into him, the tell tale signs of you getting close,”my baby's gonna cum for me?”

holding your jaw to have your eyes trained on him, he unexpectedly inserts his thumb in your mouth pressing against your wet tongue, your red swollen lips too tempting to resist,“fuck yes, show me how pretty you cum,” you mumble out a series of incoherent words in hazy chant.

the hand on your breast slips down to your lower abdomen pressing rashly against his bulge, feeling faint movement of his cock deep inside you. fuck you're so small and delicate. his hold on you tightening as his calloused fingers find your neglected bud, rolling it in quick, tight circles. it's so painful yet you feel so good, tears wailing down your cheeks as your orgasm crashes hard, overwhelming and violent, thighs trembling and pussy clenching uncontrollably. jake's continues to rub your clit, helping you ride out your high. eyes fluttering shut, and swallowing thickly at the sensation of you creaking over his sensitive length, cock throbbing impossibly hard.

jake refuses to stop even after you have come down,”one more candy, i know you can do one more for me,” hips hammering into you at full force, and lips finding yours in ragged breaths. and it dawns on you what exactly you have gotten yourself into when you feel the two of his fingers protruding at your entrance, trying to push in beside his cock,“if you try to close your legs i'm gonna punish you,” he warns making you whine into his mouth.

in a flash he turns your body to face his, quickly shoving his cock and fingers back into you. his other hand spanking the skin of your ass and kneading it a soft caress after. he eyes hypnotized at the view of you taking him in, a white ring of your cum adorning the base of his cock. he spits at your clit, once again toying with the engorged bud, pinching and flicking,”“gonna make you cum until you pass out, fuck i really wanna do that⁠—” your hand darts out to grip at jake's wrist, feeling too overwhelmed with hypersensitivity. wanting to shy away but the pleasure’s so good you can't bring yourself to push him away.

“but it's your first time,” jake mumbles between hoarse grunts.

before you can even realize it yourself your third orgasm courses through you vehemently. body jerking and twitching, almost falling over if not for jake's hold. jets of cum gushing out as you moan loud.

feeling you spill down his cock, all warm and tight, his brutal rhythm falters,”fuck- ‘m gonna cum,” eyes locking with yours as he thrusts once, twice and then stills, burying himself deep, streams of cum shooting out. hot spurt after spurt, swollen cock twitching against your walls. goosebumps all over, his legs quiver from how hard he came.

he stays quiet and motionless for a while, his arms wrapped around your shaking body. breathing in the scent of your shampoo, trying to calm his pounding heart and cock.

“you good candy? i’m sorry, i think i went a little rough on you,” you nuzzle into him in quiet,’its okay’ as he strokes your head, leaving fluttering kisses over your face. picking you up by the thighs he brings you to your bed, laying you down and gently pulling out. groaning at the way all your mixed cum oozes out, pretty little hole clenching around nothing.

exhausted, you let your mind drift, feeling the drowsiness kick in while jake bends between your legs with a wet towel. whining wearily, when his lips wrap around your nub in a suck, the wet sensation of his tongue against your clit like a shot of electricity,”sorry, baby just had to do that once,” he knew he didn't just call you candy for nothing and he was right. grining sheepishly as he wipes the rest of the cum off, cleaning you all up.

“you're nasty,” you manage to whisper out.

“only for you,” the touch of his body is hot and comforting, arms around your waist cuddling closely(and half naked).

“let's shower together in the morning, wanna eat you out so-”

“jake!”

“what? it's the truth!”

the following around four in the afternoon before jake has to leave for his soccer practice, you approach him on the couch, as always re-watching an episode of vincenzo. you haven't talked much about labels, but it's known to everyone that you're sorta together. more like jake is taken by you. his friends weren't too surprised to know about you both, it was obvious jake had the hots for you and from the little hangout at the restaurant they figured it all worked out for him.

“incoming, pocky!” you sit beside him with a banana flavored pocky stick between your teeth, leaning in teasingly.

“oh you want me so bad,” he plays along inch closer and biting it off in a snap, lips barely brushing against yours.

pulling you onto his lap with your back pressed into his chest, he locks you in place, chuckling at the way you attempt to escape. his fingers twirling the ends of your hair as you surrender in seconds, switching to watching the show absent-mindedly,”my parents wanted to meet you,” he drops the bomb, tracing random letters on your skin to distract of the fact that he just mention a meeting with parents.

“as my roommate, actually,” quickly adding the important point, fingers poking at your cheeks like jello.

“so suddenly though?” you think back on all the things you have ever done to him, for them to want to see you. perhaps they think of you as a snobby girl who’s indulging their son’s already unpleasant habits.

“they’ve actually been wanting to meet you for the past three months, i was putting it off but now summer break is starting next week and i have no more excuses to give,” hugging you, he rests his head on the curve of your neck, breathing in the smell of watermelon that surrounds you after you had basically devoured a whole at lunch. “if you don’t want to then you don’t have to, i’ll talk to them,” he assures, not wanting you to feel obligated to agree, or force yourself despite being uncomfortable.

“no it’s okay, we can go meet them. how long will the drive be?” fumbling with his red knuckles, your mind wanders off to when he fingered you, growing hot and embarrassed all of a sudden. hardly listening in on his answers.

when jake leaves for his soccer practice, you find time to complete the trivial chores around the house. watering the plants with a pout, missing jake more than ever. you have completely different majors and you are not in any clubs either to stay after classes. the only time you spend together being the one at the apartment which is also cut down by his frequent practice sessions, sometimes in the morning during weekends and normally most evenings on weekdays. it makes you ponder on whether you should try out for any club, after all these years doing something else besides studying. but you have no idea what you should consider, having no knowledge on which clubs you could be eligible to join.

it takes you two whole weeks and a bunch of outfit checks to find yourself on your way to meet jake's parents. feeling almost weird and exhilarating at how his parents and his older brother welcome you. treating you so well even though they recognize you as nothing more than just his college apartment roommate who helps fix his laptop and tolerates the boy knowing the kind of womanizer he is. appearing more as a meeting with in-laws when you jake and you are not even official yet, more so they have no idea of what's going between you two.

they try their best to make you feel at home. during the lunch as jake had told them beforehand, his mother had a few sweet dishes prepared for you, coddling you just as jake does back at your unit. they talk to you about casual things including your likes and dislikes, what major you are in, whether jake treats you well, if you have any complaints regarding his behavior. it doesn’t feel as awkward as you as thought it would and you didn't have to put on any act as you prepared yourself to do.

in the beginning of your roommate journey, his accent, his voice was the first thing to attract you but slowly as you explored his personality you came to like him for more than just what attracted you to him. now you as you spend time with people closest to him, you understand where he got it all from. the sweet person he is, which you never expected a fuckboy to be, you didn’t even have an ounce of hope that he’ll acknowledge your presence in the apartment when you got to know about his playing around conduct. yet he turned out to be the sweetest boy you’ve ever come around in your life ( and the nastiest perhaps, )

when you are sitting alone with his brother, while jake is away downstairs to bring you something sugary to eat, his brother takes it as a chance to share his thoughts,“you know until i heard him call you candy a while ago, i was under the impression that 'candy’,” he quotes it specially with a movement of his fingers,“is supposedly a cheerleader fling of his after i saw the contact name showing up when he got a call the last time he was here,” giving you a sly look as he catches sight of jake approaching,“turns out it’s you, i never knew he is the type to give such sweet, unique petnames,”

before you leave in the evening, jake makes sure to let them know that you’re toegther, and that he’s not playing around this time. he’s willing to give effort into it and change his usual ways of living, to be better for himself and as well as for you.

on your way there you had thought of a lot things, had a lot of assumptions and expectations. even prepared yourself to hear things that’ll stick to you not so positively. but what stays in your mind now is completely unexpected and opposite of what you had internally composed yourself for. it’s all you can think of in the car and after you’re back in the comfort of your familiar apartment.

cheerleader, not a bad idea—

“oh my god candy, you're gonna be the death of me!” jake pulls you away, dragging you to the back of the bleachers, his cock already rock hard and throbbing with need.

“don't you like it? i thought cheerleaders dressed like this,” you pout at him, fiddling with the ends of the literally shortest skirt of your closet.

“i love it baby, but you can't just show up to practice like that, how am i gonna be able to concentrate when all i can think of is fucking you,” he groans scanning over your figure again and again, it's like you brought out a hidden desire he didn't even know he had. he'd win every game for you if you were to cheer by the stands like this, the adrenaline of getting to ruin your perfect outfit and your perfect makeup after, putting him on a winning streak.

“teach me to suck you off,” jake loses his mind when you get down on your knees, pushing your hair out of the way and looking up at him through your lashes, doe eyes driving him crazy.

“shit baby, i will,” oh he's so going to corrupt you.

[jaylalolz]

hiii omg i think u should do a one shot w nicolas chavez and it should be like a honeymoon one! 🥹🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

WIFE!reader x HUSBAND!nicholas 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

SUMMARY, how nicholas would treat his wife on their honeymoon

A/N, thanks for requesting, anon!! have fun reading

WARNINGS, none??

Nicholas had always been intense— whether on set, in the way he looked at you, or how he touched you-but on your honeymoon, he took it to another level entirely. The moment you arrived at the private villa, nestled on the edge of an untouched beach, Nicholas made sure you knew exactly what his intentions were. He had planned every detail, wanting to spoil you beyond your wildest dreams.

From the moment you stepped into the villa, it felt like a dream. The room was drenched in the soft glow of candlelight, and the sound of the ocean waves crashed gently in the background.

Nicholas had arranged for champagne to be chilling in the corner, and as you entered, he wasted no time pulling you into his arms, his lips grazing your neck in that way that made your skin tingle.

He handed you a glass, his eyes locking with yours as he toasted to forever-his voice low and seductive as he whispered promises of the life you'd build together.

He was different during this time— softer, more intimate. He insisted on pampering you in every way, starting with lazy mornings spent wrapped in silk sheets, where he'd trace the lines of your body as if memorizing every inch of you all over again. The way he'd look at you made it clear you were the only thing that mattered. Breakfasts were delivered to your room-luxurious spreads of fresh fruit, pastries, and champagne, though more often than not, they went untouched as you both got lost in each other instead.

In the afternoons, he would take you out on spontaneous adventures, sailing along the crystal-clear waters or exploring hidden coves where no one else could find you. His hand would always be on the small of your back, guiding you through every experience, whether it was a private wine tasting or a secluded dinner on the beach.

Nicholas would pull your chair close to his, his thumb running circles along your skin, his lips brushing yours between bites of dessert as if he couldn't get enough.

But the nights were when his intensity showed most. He'd draw you a bath filled with rose petals and fragrant oils, dimming the lights until the room felt like a sanctuary. He would sit beside you, his hand lazily tracing the surface of the water, his gaze dark and full of promise as he watched you soak. And when you were ready, he'd lift you from the water like you weighed nothing, wrapping you in a towel before carrying you to bed.

In the dim light of the room, he would take his time with you-slow, unhurried, his touch worshipping every part of you as though he was making up for all the nights you'd ever spent apart.

Nicholas's hands would move over you with a delicate reverence, his voice low as he whispered how beautiful you were, how lucky he was to have you. He wasn't just making love to you-he was claiming you in the most tender way possible, ensuring you felt adored, desired, and cherished.

Throughout the honeymoon, Nicholas was relentless in his devotion, showering you with lavish surprises— jewelry, designer dresses, and even a private concert under the stars where he played your favorite songs, his eyes never leaving yours. He loved to spoil you, but more than anything, he loved seeing your smile, knowing that every bit of happiness you felt was because of him.

And every time he looked at you, it was with the same hunger, the same fire. Because, for Nicholas, the honeymoon was just the beginning. The start of forever, where he could love you like this for the rest of your lives.

[sturnsdarling]

I don't know how to forget you

matt and y/n have been best friends their whole life, but after a drunken kiss and a night of tangled limbs, everything is changing.

vibe check: smut throughout (pretty equal sex dynamic, softdombutneedy!matt / subbutdeviant!reader), fluff, (resolved) angst, childhood best friends to idiots to idiots in love, y/n is scared of love (aren't we all), soft!matt, depressed!matt/reader, soppy confessions of love

this is a long one, kids: 12k words.

A/N: I LOVE THEM!! anyways this whole thing is based on one of my favourite songs of all time so if you don't know then get to know. I had so much fun writing this so I hope you love it as much as I do. IDIOTS IN LOVE SUPREMACY🗣 also tysm for over 200 followers you guys are insane

moodboards for this fic

love and cigs, merc

You burst into the house back first, Matts hands clawing at your waist and his lips moving against yours in a clash of teeth and tongues, your arms draped over his shoulders as your hands desperately clung to his messy brown hair.

He kicked the door shut with his foot, one hand coming to your jaw to pull you into him deeper. You both clumsily walked towards his bedroom, Matt leading you backwards with closed eyes, just about missing the couch. Your hands left his hair and found the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head with vigour, breaking the kiss for a brief moment before crashing back into each other. Heavy breathing and small moans were the only sound in his house as he attempted to unbutton your shirt, not yet breaking the kiss and fumbling at the tiny circles that kept your body from him. He groaned into the kiss in frustration, biting your lip slightly before tearing your shirt open in one fowl rip. You chuckled into the kiss, Matt followed suit and your back hit the hard wood of his bedroom door, your arm frantically finding the door handle behind you.

When you finally gained entrance, still locked in an all consuming make out session with Matt, you slipped your hands between your bodies and began to untie the knot in his joggers, his whole body twitching at the sensation. Matt broke the kiss, panting, his forehead leaning on yours. 

“I thought you said we weren’t gonna do this anymore” He said through frantic breaths, his lips still brushing yours. 

“I know what I said” you muttered, finally undoing the bow that acted as the gatekeeper between your hand and his aching length, the swift insertion of your cold hand into his warm boxers acting as a mic drop to your statement as you pulled him into you once more. 

“So” Matt pulled away for a brief moment, missing the heat from your plump lips and kissing you before he spoke again, “what’re we doin” he panted. 

“Just shut up and kiss me, Matt” you shook your head, wrapping your hand round the back of his head, nearly giving him whiplash at the speed you pull his lips back to yours. 

One month earlier 

You and Matt had been seeing each other for about six months, it all started as an innocent drunken kiss at a birthday party, that same night ending with you underneath him on his satin sheets, getting pounded into at a rapid rate. You had both decided that, as two consenting adults (your exact words when you propositioned him the idea) you should start sleeping with each other on a regular basis. What was the harm right? The sex was good, you knew each other inside and out, having been friends for basically your whole lives, and you knew that no matter what happened, you’d always love each other unconditionally. 

At first it was amazing, the sex was obviously incredible and, outside of the bedroom, basically nothing changed. No one had even noticed a difference between you two, your dynamic already being touchy and somewhat flirty prior to your decision to hook up every so often.

Despite the occasional stolen glance and white knuckled night out from being forced to watch one another get hit on by random strangers at bars, it was honestly really normal, at least it felt that way.

Being with Matt was easy, he was kind and caring, being around him was like being with yourself, there was no bullshit and no expectations. You just, saw each other, truly and completely. 

As time went on, the sex became something more, it stopped being about simply acting on an urge and started being about the closeness. The intimacy of it all. You craved him, and he was addicted to you. He stopped flirting back with the girls that pushed themselves against him at bars, and you stopped entertaining the boys that bent over backwards to get your attention. Neither of you had noticed it at first but, no one was interesting anymore. No one understood you like the two of you did, no one even came close. No one could make you laugh like he did, and no one could bring him out of his own head like you could. No one knew your body like him, and vice versa, and soon enough, the sex started to change the way you saw each other. 

Instead of seeing Matt, your childhood best friend and the kid that accidentally broke your arm by landing on you at the bottom of a snowy hill when you were kids; you saw Matt, a lingering presence of safety in a crowed room and a blissful night of endless orgasms. Instead of seeing you, the fourth wheel in his little family and the girl that bullied him for being five foot nothing until he was sixteen, he saw you, a beaming ray of light in his life and the sexiest woman he’d ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. 

The shift didn’t seem to matter, as far as you were both aware, nothing had changed. That was until one night when you were hanging out with Matt as you always did:

You and Matt were half naked, tangled up in one another on his bed, watching gravity falls for the billionth time and enjoying each others company.

You were rested against his headboard, clad in his t-shirt and your underwear, and he was rested in-between your legs, his bare back comfortably wedged between your thighs as his long, plaid pyjama pant covered legs spread over the length of his bed. Matt turned his head to the side, peppering a small kiss on the side of your leg before shifting to lift himself up off his bed, the loss of his warm pressure against you almost painful. 

“m’gonna go get a drink, baby, y’want anything?” He said, standing up and hovering next to the bed. 

You shook your head, looking up at him, “I’m good, thank you”. 

“Okay” he leant down, the weight of his arms making the bed shift under you as he placed a tender kiss on your lips, your mouths slotting together effortlessly. 

He walked out the room and the door clicked shut. In your momentary solitude, the game changing realisation infiltrated your brain.

He just called you baby, and not when you were fucking, he called you baby like, like it was your name, like it was the easiest thing to call you in that moment, like it felt right to him so he did it, or even worse, that he didn’t even think about it, like that’s who you are to him.

A sudden wave of panic came over you, the events of the last however many months flashing through your brain. The longing looks, the small jealous comments that went over your head, the lingering touches when you were with your friends, his desperation for you after being apart for any longer than a couple days. All of it started to come together in your mind as one big puzzle of ‘holy fucking shit he has feelings for me, and not just I care about you as a friend but I also wanna fuck you feelings, real feelings’. That wasn’t the scary part though, the scary part was how effortless it felt, to you. How it all just made sense with him, how it was never weird or awkward, how you felt completely safe with him, how you felt genuinely and utterly, loved by him. 

Your rapid mind was interrupted by Matt walking back into the room. 

“Chris drank all the fuckin’ soda already, kids an addict I swear to god” he said, holding a glass of lemonade.

You chuckled slightly at his remark, your eyes fixated on your fingers as you picked and pulled at the skin of your thumb. Matt fell backwards onto the bed, half his weight on your legs. The pressure suddenly made you uncomfortable and, without really thinking about it, you pulled your legs from under him and tucked them under yourself. The movement made Matt turn up to look at you, finally noticing your weird demeanour. You never pulled away from him, if anything you did the opposite, especially when you were alone. Matts brows furrowed as he turned to lay on his stomach. 

“Hey, you okay?” He asked softly, rubbing a gentle finger on your leg.

You shifted under his touch again, which worried him, a lot. He shifted and raised himself up to sit in front of you. He hooked a finger under your chin and lifted your head up. 

“What’s the matter?” He questioned, his voice thick with concern. 

You shook your head, his baring blue eyes making you feel claustrophobic in your own skin.

“m’fine” you said, attempting to look away from him. 

Your energy was jarring, and Matt was utterly confused, what the fuck had happened in the maybe twenty-seconds he had been gone and why were you suddenly acting like you didn’t even want to look at him? 

“Y/n/n, I know when you’re lying, what’s wrong?” He said, trying to find your eyes again. 

You didn’t reply, only returned to picking at your thumbs. Matt simply stared at you, unable to understand why you were suddenly a tense and anxious ball of energy. 

After what felt like an eternity, you broke the silence, your voice coming out in a choked strain. 

“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Matt” your eyes didn’t leave your skin. 

Those nine words hit matt like a bus, knocking the wind out of him as his mouth parted in a feeling he could only describe as agony. 

“Do what? As in, do this” he said, gesturing to himself and then to you. 

You finally raised your head to look at him, a deep sadness hiding behind your emotionless face. “I don’t think it's a good idea, it’s gone on for way longer than either of us expected, and—“ you huffed, “I just can’t do it anymore” you tore your gaze from him, incapable of the decency it took to look him in the eye as you tore his heart from his chest. 

“wh—“ Matt muttered, “where the fuck has this come from?” He shook his head, eyes squinting and brows scrunching together. 

You didn’t reply, only shifted in your own skin. Your aloofness was like sand paper against Matts skin, he barely recognised you. His mind raced with the endless mind boggling possibilities as to why you didn’t want to be with him anymore, but they all centred into one crippling thought. 

“Is there someone else?” He said, his voice dropping an octave. 

“No” you said immediately, the ‘there could never be anyone else’ staying tucked between your teeth as your head shot up to look at him. 

“So what is then? Did I— did I do something?” His tone faltered, coming out as almost apologetic. 

You shook your head, gnawing at the inside of your cheeks, “I just — you — I — ” you couldn’t find the words to make it make sense, because it didn’t, it didn’t make sense, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of the walls closing in around you. 

“Y/n/n” your name rolled off his tongue like honey, his head shifting on his shoulders towards you slightly, his brows still knit firmly together in confusion that looked a lot like sadness. 

“I have to go” you said, unable to look at him for a second longer in fear of bursting into tears. 

“Wait—” he said, reaching out for you as you climbed off the bed and picked up your jeans that were sprawled across the floor.  

“Matt, I have to go” you cut him off, picking up your things and hurrying out the door, not looking at him for even a split second. 

You shut the door behind you and he opened it almost immediately, following you out into his kitchen, watching as you raced down the stairs.

“Y/n” he called out your name, but your pace didn’t falter, and in a flash and a slam of his front door, you were gone. 

He stood at the top of the stairs, blinking at the closed door a head of him. 

On the sofa, Chris and Nick were staring at him, waiting for him to say something and sharing flitting glances back and forth with one another. 

“What the fuck was that about?” Chris said, breaking the deafening silence. 

“Is she okay?” Nick followed his brothers questioning. 

“I have no idea” Matt said, that simple fact being the only thing he did know. 

You threw yourself into your car, slamming the door shut. The sound rang through your ears and the silence that filled the vehicle after was enough to send you tumbling into your sadness. Tears brimmed at your eyes as heavy, fast pants rapidly escaped your nose, you felt awful, you had no idea what you were doing, why did you leave like that? Why didn’t you just talk to him, he’s your best friend, why didn’t you just say something? Anything? What would you even say? I think you’re in love with me and I’m terrified that I love you too? Being with you like this has been the best six months of my life? the thought of losing you makes me feel like I'm dying? Any attempt to try and put how you felt into words made you spiral, and after a pent up moment of burning holes into the black leather of your steering wheel, the flood gates opened. 

“Fuck!” you screamed, tears cascading down your face and you hit the wheel with the palm of your hands over and over again.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you were drowning in your own mind and had no way of coming to the surface. Your relentless mind was exhausting, and when your hands started to sting from your merciless slaps against the brittle leather, you clutched the wheel, resting your forehead against the material with closed eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with me” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head against the wheel. 

You pulled one hand off the wheel and turned the key in the exhaust, starting the car as you lifted your head, taking a deep, calming inhale.

You gripped the wheel once more, turning your head and looking to Matts house, all you wanted was to go back inside, tell him that you’re scared, absolutely fucking terrified of how you feel about him, but you didn't, instead, you clenched your jaw, ripped your gaze from the house and pulled out into the street. 

On your drive home through the nearly empty LA highways, your mind raced with the events of the last six months, the orange streetlights periodically illuminating your car. Your playlist blared through the speakers on full volume as your unsuccessful attempt to drown out the sound of your own thoughts was brought to fruition, ‘sex’ by eden started to play, the drums and claps filling your senses as the piano melody took your mind to the last six months. 

The longing looks;

You were wrapped in a fluffy towel, your wet hair cascading down your shoulders as you lazily rubbed moisturiser over your clean face in Matts bathroom mirror. The door clicked open, and Matt softly padded into the damp steamy room, cold air following him in. His presence didn’t disturb you, you continued to do your skincare routine as he came up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder and sneaking his long tattooed arms around your waist. Neither of you said anything, you didn’t even look at him. In that moment, his presence was simply an extension of your existence.

As you softly massaged a hydrating serum into your soft skin, Matt couldn’t help but stare at you in the reflection. He loved you like this, your most pure and natural self, skin still littered with drops of water from the shower and your hair forming loose curls as it dried messily over your shoulders.

He watched you intently from his perched position just beside the curve of your neck. He thought you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and he could never get tired of looking at you. His gaze was heavy on your face, and once you’d finished applying all of your products, you let your eyes flit to his in the mirror, finally locking eyes with him. His mouth instantly curling up into a smile when you shot him a small grin. 

“You’re so beautiful” he said, his eye contact never wavering. 

Your smile grew and you dropped your head slightly, shaking it with an embarrassed chuckle. 

Matt squeezed you tighter to gain your attention again, missing the piercing warmth your eyes gave him. He picked his head up slightly and began to pepper short pecks on your damp, vanilla scented skin. The pecks slowly turned to small open mouth kisses, the warmth of his tongue against your skin sending shivers up your spine and encouraging a pool of wetness to collect between your legs. You let your head hang to the side slightly as he moved his kisses up your neck, stopping as he reached just below your ear. You whined as he pulled away and he laughed slightly, moving his hands to your waist and turning you round to face him.

The base of your spine was pressed against the marble counter top and Matt stared down into you, his hands absentmindedly rubbing circles against the towel that covered you. He effortlessly lifted you up and placed you on the sink, his hands finding your jaw once you landed the short jump. 

“I mean it, y’know, I think you might be the prettiest girl in the entire universe” his thumbs pressing into your cheeks as his slender fingers wrapped around the nape of your neck. 

His eyes were baring into yours, flitting between the left and right as an uncontrollable smile engulfed your face as you batted your lashes at him, returning his stare with doe eyes that almost made his knees buckle. 

“That’s a pretty damning statement, Matthew, I’m not sure I can live up to that title” You quipped, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him against you, aching for friction as you throbbed at his words. 

“There’s no question about it, pretty girl, no one even comes close” he said, pushing his jogger clad, growing bulge against your desperate core and pulling your impossibly close to him. 

“Let me show you how beautiful you are” he said, just before pulling you into a wet and tender kiss.

You moaned against his lips as Matt ground his hips into yours, his fingers digging into the nape of your neck. He moved his kisses down your jaw, his tongue flat against the bone as he worked his way down your neck and along the top of the white towel that separated his mouth from his favourite part of you. A soft hand came up to the fold in the fabric and tugged at it, causing it to drop from your body and fall onto the cold marble beneath you. The sudden exposure made all the tiny hairs on your body stand on edge as Matt ogled your body, taking you in like it was the first time he was seeing you bare like that, not the hundredth.

"you're so fuckin' sexy" he uttered, shaking his head in disbelief at the sight of your still slightly wet skin glistening for him.

You rested back on the palms of your hands and spread your legs wider for him, giving him a full view of your pretty pussy that was already slick to the touch. A hungry grunt left his throat at the sight of you baring yourself to him, and without hesitation, Matt dropped to his knees and hooked your legs over his shoulders, pressing bruises into the soft, squishy skin.

You squealed slightly as he tugged at your thighs, bringing your throbbing core only centimetres away from his face. He licked his lips like an animal spotting its prey and leaned forward, pressing a soft and sloppy kiss onto your clit. your back arched into the pressure of his tongue against you as he started lapping at your soaked core, moaning at the taste of you on his lips. Your fingers raked through his hair and tugged at the root, pushing him further into you as your hips involuntarily bucked into his face, grinding against his mouth as he worked his tongue over your weeping pussy.

His hand snaked its way down your leg, his blunt fingernails scratching down your skin as he brought his digits to to just below his chin, rubbing small circles at your entrance with the tip of his long finger, teasing your walls as they clenched around nothing, desperate for him to give you what he knows you want.

"mhph, Matt, please" you whined with furrowed brows, hips slowly grinding against his face.

Matt looked up at you with smiling, prideful eyes, dipping his middle finger into your soaked hole just enough to elicit a broken moan from your throat. As your walls loosened their grip around his finger, he slipped his ring finger inside, pushing them both in to the knuckle as he sucked on your clit, eyes still baring up into you as your head hung loose on your neck.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, but his pace on your clit was fierce, as if he was attempting to suck the air from your lungs out from of your pussy.

Your high was fast approaching, and your whole body began to tense above him, your legs unintentionally closing shut around his head. Matt didn't care, he wanted you to close him in, keep him there for the rest of time so he could make you cum all over his face over and over again until you felt as if you could pass out from exhaustion.

His fingers began to curl up into that blissful sweet spot, your stomach tensed in response and he knew you were close to coming undone. He slurped and lapped at your folds, his tongue dipping between them to catch the very centre of your clit, toying with the nub as he relentlessly filled your walls with his long fingers.

"Oh, fuck, Matt" the pressure of his tongue against you was euphoric, and a wave of tingles covered every inch of your body.

Your walls were a vice around his fingers and, with a tantalising suck on your sensitive nub, you released warm cum all over his hand. You shook above him, your vision going blurry as he continued to devour you, bringing you to a white hot level of ecstasy that left you a blubbering, whimpering mess on the bathroom counter.

When your legs stopped tensing and hung lazily over his shoulders, Matt pulled his fingers from you, licking them clean just before placing a soft peck on your puffy clit. The feeling made you jolt and he chuckled, his warm breath acting as a soothing wind to your sensitive pussy.

Matt got to his feet, his hands instantly gripping at your thighs to wrap you around him once again. He kissed you like he was a man eating his last meal, the taste of yourself still heavy on his tongue as it pressed and pushed against yours.

"taste that, pretty girl? you're beautiful even down to the sweetness of your perfect pussy" He pulled away from you, to say just before biting down on your parted bottom lip

The small, jealous comments that went over your head;

You, the boys and a few of your mutual friends were in a bar somewhere in downtown LA. Your hands were pressed against the wood of the bar as you waited to be served, the crowds of people surrounding you making you somewhat invisible to the bartender who, famously served all the influencers first and annoyingly ignored anyone who didn’t have a brand deal or over a million followers. 

“Hey gorgeous” an unfamiliar voice disturbed your failed attempt to order a round for your table. 

You looked to the side, and were met with the glaring stare and bitten lip of yet another guy who wanted to buy you a drink and disappoint you sexually. 

“Hi” you said, turning your attention away from him just as fast as he caught it. 

“Can I just say, you’re the hottest chick in this whole bar” he rested a sweaty hand on your shoulder. 

You shrugged off his touch and looked back to him, “thanks” you said quickly, instantly skeeved out by the feeling of his hand on your skin. 

“Let me buy you a drink” he said in what seemed like his attempt at a seductive tone, bringing his hand back up to you and pushing your hair off your shoulder, letting it fall down your back. 

“I’m good, dude, I’m just trying to get a round for me and my friends” you shifted away from him. 

He edged closer to you, running his fingers down your arm and grasping at your hand, 

“I can get the round, I’ve got money like that, baby” 

The name made you feel physically sick, and before you could open your mouth to tell him to kindly fuck off, the comforting sound of Matts voice rang through your ears. 

“You good, y/n/n?” He said, coming up next to you and wrapping a tight hand around your waist, pulling you into him, his eyes never leaving the meathead trying to touch his girl.

“Who the fuck are you?” The guy said, instantly squaring up to Matt. 

“S’not important, dude, jus’ leave her alone, yeah?” He said, shifting slightly towards the guy, his hand never leaving your waist. 

“What are you, her boyfriend or something?” He laughed, pressing firm fingers into Matts shoulder. 

Matt chucked at the attempt to rile him up, pulling his arm from your waist and planting himself directly in front of the dickhead that just pushed his shoulder. 

Your hand pressed against his chest, bringing him back down to reality as he looked down into your soft, sparkle covered eyes. 

“Don’t” you said, applying a warm pressure to his sternum. 

His jaw clenched as his heart rate slowed, the feeling of your hand against his chest a soothing balm to the burning rage that had ignited in him. 

“Fuck off, dude, m’not interested in whatever you think you’re gonna get out of this” you said, pushing Matt behind you and giving the creep the dirtiest look you could muster up. 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “whatever, bitch, you’re ugly as fuck anyway” he said as he sulked away. 

“Oh, I’m gonna break his fuckin’ jaw” Matt said, attempting to slip out from behind you and follow the guy through the bar. 

“Matt” you said, grabbing his hand, “leave it” you said, pulling him back to you, catching his eye-line, “I’m fine, okay? He’s irrelevant”. 

He stood a few feet away from you with a clenched jaw, his hand still in yours as you glared at him. He rolled his eyes and returned to your side. 

“Kids just asking to get his shit rocked” he huffed, resting a protective hand on the base of your spine. 

“I'm sure someone will knock him out at some point” you said, a smirk forming on your face as you returned your attention to the bar tender. 

“I could have blinded him just for talking to you” he muttered, watching as the same guy sauntered over to other helpless victim. 

“Fuckin’ idiot thinks he has a chance in hell, tryna hold your hand and shit” he scoffed, “dickhead” Matt spat, finally tearing his eyes off the guy. 

You peered up at Matt and he met your gaze, a soft smile forming on his lips at the sight of you. You chuckled and shook your head, and just as you were about to tell him how sexy he is when he’s angry, you were interrupted by the bartender. 

“What can I get for you?”

The lingering touches when you were with your friends;

You were all hanging out at the boys’ house, watching films and talking about nothing, and everything. You were perched on the sofa, both of your legs tucked under yourself as you lazily scrolled on your phone. Matt was next to you, his legs in a wide man-spread as his back rested against the plush sofa cushions. His arm was rested against the back of the couch behind you, a comfortable warmth engulfing you just enough to not rouse any suspicion. 

His fingers absentmindedly traced he curve of your bare shoulder as he joked with Nate and Chris, all three of them laughing about something you weren’t listening to. 

“Y/n/n” Nick said from the kitchen, bringing your attention away from your phone, “can you come help me with this, I’m so fucking confused” he said, holding a cookie ingredient box in his hands, reading the back with furrowed brows. 

You looked over Matts shoulder towards the kitchen and let out a short chuckle, “Yeah, sure”. You shifted, and placed your feet on the floor, using Matts leg to help you up from your comfortable position on the sofa. 

The pressure of your hand against his leg went straight to his crotch, and as if on instinct, his hand met yours on his thigh for a moment as you pushed yourself up. You turned to look down at him over your shoulder as your hand slipped from under his, he looked at you like you were the only person in the room and you returned the favour, padding away from him and facing your attention towards Nick, who was standing, baffled in the kitchen over the instructions that ‘made no fucking sense’. 

His desperation for you after being apart for any longer than a couple days;

“Fuck, angel, I missed your pussy so fuckin’ much” Matt grunted into your neck as he pounded into you, slow and hard, sucking on the curve of your jaw and occasionally biting down on your soft skin. 

Your moaned at his words, legs wrapped tight around him with your feet locked at his waist, your hands clawed at his back as he stretched you out, the sensation of him relentlessly hammering into you completely overwhelming your senses. The weight of his body against yours was blissful, his warm skin pressed against yours as you kissed and sucked at his shoulder, desperate to feel every part of him against every part of you. His hands were pressing bruises into every inch of your skin, the feeling of you clenching around him sending him into ecstasy as he thrust in and out of your sopping pussy. 

“Y’so fuckin’ perfect, literally perfect, this pussy was made f’me, made jus’ f’me” he was rambling, desperate to let you know how much he had missed you. 

“Mphm, Matt, don’t stop, please, don’t stop” you whined as he hit that gummy spot deep inside you, his dick nestling perfectly inside your slick walls. 

“Keep saying my name like that, please baby, say it again f'me” He said, craning his neck up to look down at you, his eyes fluttery at the heavenly feeling of being completely surrounded by you. 

“Matt” you moaned, throwing your head back as he thrust deeper inside of you, the soft pressure of the top of his pelvis periodically pressing against your puffy clit. 

Matt groaned, dipping his head down to capture your neck in a tingling bite, just before soothing the sting with a warm and flat tongue. 

“Ugh, Matt” you whimpered, squeezing your legs tighter round him, your hands finding his sweaty curls. 

Matt near enough growled into your skin, picking up his pace as he hungrily fucked you with unwavering force into his bed. The sting of your fingers pulling his hair, coupled with the pulsating heat of your throbbing pussy sent him over the edge. With a loud grunt and stuttering hips, he came harder than he had in weeks, his vision going blurry as he nestled himself further into the crook of your neck, biting down on the fleshy meat of your shoulder. He slowed his pace completely, slowly fucking his cum into you until he felt paralysed by your warmth. 

“Jesus Christ” he uttered into your hair. 

You peppered kisses along his broad shoulder and up his neck, biting at his earlobe, earning an involuntary buck of his hips into your cum soaked hole. He begrudgingly pulled out of you, his soft dick hanging down between his legs as he fell down on top of you, his crushing body weight making you sink into the mattress. Your hands played with his hair as he caught his breath, head rested on your bare chest and hands rubbing at your boiling skin. 

“Take it you missed me then?” You muttered, enamoured with his tired and fucked out frame lazily pressed against you. 

He simply nodded against your skin, bringing a large hand up to palm the curve of your breast. “S’much” he said, just before taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking on it with vigour. 

You giggled at the sensation, shifting under him slightly as he pressed his already hardening dick against your thigh.

“Matt” You laughed, squirming under his touch. 

In one swift movement, he flipped you both over so that you were ontop of him, your wet pussy pressed against the base of his sticky cock. 

“Need more, princess, now, please” Matt said, a spread hand coming up your spine and he brought you down to him. His hand gripped the back of your neck as he kissed you like he was starved of your touch.

“m’never gonna get enough a’you” He moaned into the kiss, the feeling of your folds brushing up and down his stiff cock sending him into heavenly overstimulation. 

The final beat of the song brought you back to reality,

and before you realised it, you were back at your apartment, pulling into your parking lot and making your way up to your empty home. 

Your apartment was covered with Matt; a spare pair of his dirty, beat up airforces sat next to your messy array shoes by the front door, dried out flowers in jars were scattered around your whole apartment, all ones he had gotten you for birthdays or special achievements, or just because he saw them and thought of you. His jackets were hung up on your hooks, and his shirts were thrown lazily into your laundry baskets. Cards and notes were littered on your fridge and window sills, all just little messages he’d leave you throughout your entire friendship, even before you started sleeping together. 

You kicked off your shoes and padded over to the fridge to get some water, old photos and memories stared back at you. Your fingers wrapped around the handle of the door, but your arm didn’t budge, your attention was fixated on the array of photos stuck to the fridge. 

You had a photo of you and the boys when you were younger, your mum had found it when she was clearing out some old stuff and you simply had to steal it from her albums. There was another photo that Nick had taken at some party you don’t really remember and then there were two photos of you and Matt. One of them was a photo booth picture from some influencer thing he dragged you to, and the other was from your birthday last year. Just below the pictures, Matt had stuck a note under the floral magnet, you had no idea when he did it and honestly didn’t even notice it until that very moment. The note read, ‘hi, you’re pretty, have a nice day’ in what looked like his best attempt to have neat hand writing. 

You glanced over the photo from your birthday, it was just after you guys had started seeing each other, and the boys had decided celebrating your birthday away from LA was non negotiable, so you all went home to Boston and had a proper family birthday. It was perfect, and for that short week, everything in your life felt like it was finally falling into place. Tears began to prick at your puffy eyes once more as you stared at the picture, his strong arms wrapped around your shoulders, a cheesy grin spread across your face as he made one of his usual silly faces for the lens of Nicks camera. 

Your heart sunk in your chest, and for the first time since you met Matt all those years ago, you felt completely alone. You had done the one thing you were the most afraid of being done to you; you had walked out on him, without even stopping to tell him why. You had acted like everything you hated, and the shame you felt, coupled with a deep sadness and a looming feeling of heavy regret were all only exacerbated by the fact that, the only person you wanted to speak to about how you were feeling, was Matt. 

Back at his house, Matt was in his living room, sat across from his brothers, his elbows rested on his wide knees as his head hung on his neck, resting in his palms.

“You and y/n have been… fucking?” Chris said, fully spread across the sofa as he stared at Matt in bewilderment. 

“Don’t say it like that, Chris” Nick hit Chris on the chest, turning back to Matt and perching his head on his hand, looking at him with soft features that reassured Matt that he was listening, “carry on, Matt” he said. 

“It um— it started about six months ago, after Quens’ birthday party, d’you remember?” He said, brushing his hair out his face with a huff. 

“Oh, yeah, I remember that, you guys ended up kissing during that weird card game, right?” Nick said, recounting his hazy memories from the party. 

Matt nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, “We ended up sleeping together that night, I brought her back here and she snuck out in the morning before you guys woke up”

“You sneaky motherfucker, if this whole situation wasn’t depressing as fuck I’d be so proud of you dude.” Chris leant forward and grabbed Matts shoulder, shaking him slightly and beaming at him, trying to coax a smile out of him. 

A lazy smile creeped its way onto Matts face as Chris patted his back, that alone was enough to let him know that behind his sad eyes, Matt was still in there somewhere. 

“Wait, so, what happened? Why did she suddenly decide that she doesn’t want to see you anymore?” Nick pushed, just as confused as his younger brother. 

“I’ve got no fuckin’ idea, one minute we were fine, just chilling and watching gravity falls, and the next, she won’t even look at me” Matt sighed, his voice cracking as he spoke. He threw himself back onto the sofa and rubbed his eyes with the balls of his hands, groaning and trying not to cry. 

Chris and Nick shared a worried look, furrowed brows and concerned eyes pouring into each other as they both returned their attention to Matt, who was still shifting in his skin, the most worked up they’ve seen him in, well, in six months actually.

“Hey, kid, it’s gonna be okay, okay?” Chris placed a comforting hand on Matts knee, squeezing it slightly, “we’ve known her for like literally forever, whatever it is, I’m sure she’ll figure it out and come back” 

“Yeah” Nick said, moving to sit on the other side of Matt, “maybe she’s just having a moment or something? You know how she gets sometimes” he reassured Matt with a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m just—she jus’—I just don’t understand” Matt shook his head, hands raking down his face as frustrated tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. 

“Hey” Chris said gently, his voice wavering at the sight of Matt nearly crying, “Its okay, bro, you’ll figure it out, and besides even if you never get to fuck her again, I’m sure you’ll always be best friends” 

“Chris” Nick said quietly through gritted teeth, his hand gently rubbing Matts shoulder as he shot Chris a glaring look. 

“What?” Chris replied, innocently, not understanding what he said wrong. 

Matts head rolled against the back of the sofa, he let out a small chuckle and shook his head, a groan slipping from his lips, “I don’t care if I never get to sleep with her again dude, I jus’—“ he sighed, “I think I’m in love with her” he closed his eyes and squeezed his back teeth together, clenching his jaw as a throttling wave of sadness came over him, “and now I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to tell her” 

In the month between you walking out and you both crashing back into each other,

you didn’t see Matt or the boys once. You completely isolated yourself, refusing to even think about what had happened. The night you came home, after hours of crying in the shower and wanting the world to swallow you hole, you decided that simply forgetting it ever happened was the best plan of action. If it never happened, then it didn’t need to matter. But it did happen, and it did matter and you became a shell of yourself, existing on auto pilot everyday. 

All you did was work and sleep, your social life becoming quickly non existent without the boys to coax you into actually leaving the house. You stopped replying to anyones messages in the first week, turning off all notifications and letting the little red bubble get longer and longer as the messages piled up in your phone. Everyday you managed to get yourself out of bed was a miracle, and if you showered and brushed your hair, it should have counted as an eighth wonder of the world. Your life had become an agonising picture coloured by shades of grey, all of the colour being stripped from your world when you slammed the door in your best friends face. 

You couldn’t understand why you couldn’t just call him, tell him that you were sorry, that you freaked out and acted like a fucking idiot, and that all you’ve ever wanted is for him to be around forever, in whatever shape that may take. You loved him, you had loved him since you were a child, but having sex with him, and being his in those fleeting moments of passion made you fall in love with him, and the thought of that made you feel like you were driving down the highway on the wrong side, cars flying towards you at a hundred miles per hour as someone blindfolded you and told you to keep driving. But not because of him, he was perfect. He was one of the only people in the world who you really trusted, who you knew you could always rely on no matter what and no questions asked. It was because of you, something inside of you felt broken, and you had no idea how to fix it. 

Matt wasn’t doing any better;

Unless he had to film or take a meeting, he barely left his room. He pushed away any attempt from his brothers to talk about you or what had happened since the night he told them about the two of you, not wanting to be reminded of the agonising feeling that had wedged itself between his ribs since the night you left.

His temper was shorter than ever, constantly snapping at one of the boys for tiny things and losing his shit every time a minor inconvenience happened. His parents got word of the fact that you two had stopped talking and tried to be there for him, your mum too, but he pushed everyone away. No one had the ability to crawl inside his brain and plant flowers in his weeds like you did, and he knew that, so he didn’t see the point in letting anyone even try.

After a certain point he stopped talking to everyone, only interacting with Chris or Nick when he really needed to and ignoring all the calls from Nate, his parents or Justin. He just wanted to be left alone, because at least then his reality would reflect how he felt. You had left a gaping hole in his life and slowly but surely, he was falling deeper and deeper into the dark abyss of that hole, letting the heavy sadness consume him with reluctant acceptance. 

Despite his temper and moping about, his brothers never stopped trying; 

A soft tap rattled his door, and a few seconds after, it creaked open, letting in a slither of light into his dark bedroom. 

“Matt? We’re gonna go get wing stop, d’you wanna come?” Chris said softly, peering his head through the crack in the door. 

Matt didn’t respond, he was tucked up to his neck in his duvet in his dark room, the only light in the room being that of his low brightness computer screen playing an array of depressing songs on loop and the light that Chris had welcomed in when he opened the door. 

“Matt, dude, you haven’t left your room in days, you gotta eat something” Chris sighed, his refusal to accept this new version of Matt apparent. 

Matt simply turned away from the door, turning his back to Chris in a silent ‘fuckin’ leave me alone’. Chris huffed, shaking his head and clicking the door shut. 

Nothing was working, and they had no idea if he was ever going to be okay again. Normally, he would mope about for a couple days and then be back to his usual silly, kind self. But this was different, he seemed completely void of anything that made Matt, Matt. 

Nick was fed up of his behaviour, and despite Chris’ constant battle with him over ‘just giving it time���, Nick knew, as his older brother and best friend, that it had all gone too far. So he took matters into his own hands.

That night, Nick got an uber to your apartment,

knowing it was your day off work and that you were almost definitely in the same position as Matt; not leaving your house or talking to anyone.  

The uber pulled up next to your apartment block and he got out the car, striding up the stairs to the entrance and relentlessly pounded against your front door. The sound made you jump in your skin, pulling your attention away from the last episode of season two of gravity falls, a show that hadn’t left your tv in weeks. When you didn’t answer the door to the first round of banging, it started again and you reluctantly pushed yourself off your sofa and walked over to the door as it vibrated on its hinges. 

“Okay, okay, m’coming, Jesus Chris” you groaned.  

When you opened the door, you were met with a face you hadn’t seen in weeks. 

“Nick?” Your face dropped in confusion.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, y/n/n” he started sounding off immediately, pushing himself into your apartment. 

“wha—“ you started to speak, but were immediately cut off. 

“In what universe is it okay to just go completely ghost on your best fucking friend? What the fuck were you thinking? Matt has been in a shit state since you ran out that night and I’m fuckin’ sick of it! He’s angry at everyone, he’s nearly gotten in actual fights with me and Chris about a thousand times and he’s even stopped talking to our parents. Our parents y/n.” Nicks face was nearly bright red with anger as he paced around your apartment. 

“Nick, I—“ you folded your arms over your chest, his words hitting you like bullets of reality. 

“No. I’m not finished.” He held his hand up to stop you speaking, “I don’t know what the fuck happened between the two of you, but you need to sort it out, because I can’t sit here and watch this all unfold anymore. I think what you fail to remember, is that despite the fact that you were fucking him, he was also supposed to be your best friend. We all were. When you walked out on him, you also walked out on me and Chris. You left us all high and dry without a single explanation and zero entrance back into your life to try and figure out what the fuck happened.” Nick finished his rant and took a deep inhale, his first real breath since he stepped foot in your apartment. 

The apartment was silent for a moment, you not knowing whether or not he was finished. “Can I speak now?”

“G’head” Nick replied, raising a hand, gesturing you to say your part. 

“I’m sorry that I walked out.” You said, it being the only thing you could think to say in that moment, “I didn’t know he was going through all of that” you said, averting your gaze to the floor. 

Nick chuckled in disbelief, “cut the shit, y/n/n” he said, “you know what he’s like, probably better than anyone. You know because you’re exactly the same, I mean, look at you, you look like shit” he said, not holding back, then again, when did he ever. 

You looked back up at him and couldn’t help but chuckle as his insult, “What are you talking about? M’fine” you shrugged. 

“Yeah sure you are, kid” Nick rolled his eyes, taking a few steps forward and lingering just in front of you. 

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, and honestly I don’t really care. But I do care about him, and I care about you, and I know that this is killing you as much as its killing him. so just stop being a fucking idiot and go tell him that you love him, because I’m tired of his stinking fuckin’ attitude and I miss you, I miss my best friend, we all do, Matt more than anyone” he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, his warm skin pulling a single brick from the dam that had all your crippling emotions stuffed behind it. 

Tears brimmed at your eyes and Nick sighed, bringing you into an all encompassing hug, holding your head against his chest as you sobbed into him. He held you like that for a while, letting you cry in his arms as he cooed and rubbed the back of your head in the gentle embrace you were wrapped in. When you finally stopped shaking, you pulled away from him, wiping your tears and looked up at him through wet lashes. 

“What if he hates me?” You sniffled, your voice still shaky. 

Nick shook his head with a breathy laugh out his nose, “I don’t think he could hate you even if he wanted to, you’re everything to him” 

You and Nick shared another hug before he said he had to go and meet everyone in the city, asking you if you wanted to come and not pressing when you shook your head no, telling him you just needed to be alone. He left and you were alone again, your mind now racing with everything he had said, his words giving you the reality check you needed.

Back at the boys' house,

Matt was padding around the kitchen, he had left his room about ten minutes after he heard the front door click shut and he knew he was alone. As he shuffled around in the cupboards looking for a bowl for his hundredth meal of instant noodles, the front door slammed shut, and a burning annoyance filled his entire body. Chris came bounding up the stairs, seemingly in a hurry, but stopped in his tracks at the sight of Matt, actually out of his bedroom. 

“Oh, you’re up, I jus’ came back ‘cause I forgot my wallet” he said, grabbing his wallet off the table. 

Matt didn’t respond, he didn’t even acknowledge Chris’ presence. 

Chris went to leave, rolling his eyes and not even attempting to bother trying anymore but, in true Chris fashion, he was determined to find his brother inside this strange ghost that had infiltrated his home. 

“Look, dude, I know you’re hurting, trust me I get it but, you can’t keep letting this bring you down forever. There has to be a point were you realise that this isn’t healthy” He sighed, walking back to stand next to the table. “I know you love her, and I know that this whole situation is killing you, but maybe if you jus —“ he sighed, “maybe if you jus fuckin’ speak to her then you can sort all of this out, she can come back and everything can be normal again, ‘cause, its hard as fuck seeing you like this man and, even though I don’t love her like you do, I miss her too, she’s been around forever and it feels like we're a table missing a fuckin’ leg or some shit so, jus’ speak to her. what’s the harm in just trying, y’know?” 

Matt, with his back still to Chris, shifted where he stood slightly, opening his mouth to reply but swallowed his words. 

Chris sighed and shook his head, turning on the balls of his feet and running down the stairs. The slam of the front door echoed through the house, and Matt was soon left with the deafening silence left by Chris’ absence.

His brothers words ran laps around his mind, he knew he was right, this couldn’t go on forever, and he should just speak to you, but how was he even supposed to begin to try? Was he supposed to just show up at your apartment, tell you how he was dying inside, how this past month had been the hardest of his entire life and that he had missed you every single second of every day that passed painstakingly slowly? Was he supposed to just show up at your home, grab you by the face and tell you that he loved you and that he never wanted to be without you ever again? As the rapid thoughts bounced like pinballs against the walls of his skull, he realised that, that was exactly what he was going to do. 

He slammed the cupboard door shut and strode over to the table, picking his keys up and near enough sprinting down the stairs, not even stopping to put shoes on as he pulled the front door open and stepped out in front of his house. 

As he stepped out into his front yard, his heart fell down into his stomach at the sight of your shadowy frame, standing just a few feet from his front door, arms crossed over your pyjama top clad chest. He was paralysed, he didn’t know if he was dreaming or, if somewhere between the kitchen and the door he fell over and cracked his head open.

“Y/n” he choked out, it being the only thing he could muster up in that moment. 

“Hi” you said in a small voice, a shy smile finding your lips at the sound of him saying your name. 

Matt couldn’t move, feeling as though the ground had grown hands that had wrapped themselves around his ankles. You made the first move, taking a step into the light, the orange street lamp illuminating your features. His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you, your beautiful face in his sights again after what felt like an eternity.

You walked closer to him, warmth radiated off him as he stared down at you with a slightly parted mouth. Neither of you spoke, you had no idea what to say, you just stared into each other for that long moment, the world shifting on its axis around you as suddenly, face to face like this, you felt like the only two people in the entire universe. Your eyes flitted between his, your lips periodically getting caught between your teeth as you tried to think of something, anything to say.

Matts eyes explored your face, as if he was memorising every inch of it incase it was the last time he was seeing you, incase this wasn’t real and he was asleep in his dark room. His gaze flitted to your plump lips and it sent a twinge up your spine, and without thinking, you latched your hands round the back of his head and pulled him down into you in a feverish, desperate kiss. He returned the kiss almost immediately, his hands slipping round your waist and pulling you into him in a frenzied attempt to feel you close to him again. 

You burst into the house back first, Matts hands clawing at your waist and his lips moving against yours in a clash of teeth and tongues, your arms draped over his shoulders as your hands desperately clung to his messy brown hair.

He kicked the door shut with his foot, one hand coming to your jaw to pull you into him deeper. You both clumsily walked towards his bedroom, Matt leading you backwards with closed eyes, just about missing the couch. Your hands left his hair and found the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head with vigour, breaking the kiss for a brief moment before crashing back into each other. Heavy breathing and small moans were the only sound in his house as he attempted to unbutton your shirt, not yet breaking the kiss and fumbling at the tiny circles that kept your body from him. He groaned into the kiss in frustration, biting your lip slightly before tearing your shirt open in one fowl rip. You chuckled into the kiss, Matt followed suit and your back hit the hard wood of his bedroom door, your arm frantically finding the door handle behind you.

When you finally gained entrance, still locked in an all consuming make out session with Matt, you slipped your hands between your bodies and began to untie the knot in his joggers, his whole body twitching at the sensation. Matt broke the kiss, panting, his forehead leaning on yours. 

“I thought you said we weren’t gonna do this anymore” He said through frantic breaths, his lips still brushing yours. 

“I know what I said” you muttered, finally undoing the bow that acted as the gatekeeper between your hand and his aching length, the swift insertion of your cold hand into his warm boxers acting as a mic drop to your statement as you pulled him into you once more. 

“So” Matt pulled away for a brief moment, missing the heat from your plump lips and kissing you before he spoke again, “what’re we doin” he panted. 

“Just shut up and kiss me, Matt” you shook your head, wrapping your hand round the back of his head, nearly giving him whiplash at the speed you pull his lips back to yours. 

He kissed you back hungrily, groaning into your mouth as he pushed you backwards onto his bed. You hit the bed with a small whimper as his mouth detached from yours, his tongue flattening against your neck, then your chest, then your stomach and then back up the way he came.

Your hands latched onto his curls as your back arched at the sensation of his mouth against you for the first time in what felt like forever. He moaned against your skin, grinding his hard cock into your desperate core, your clothes creating a frustrating amount of friction between the two of you.

He bucked his hips into yours, your legs tightening around his waist with every thrust. You were desperate, and he was starved of you. His large came to your open shirt and pushed it down over your shoulder, his perfect teeth clamping down on your soft skin. His mouth found the curve of your tit, pulling the lacy fabric of your bralette down to expose your hardened nipple to him. With one hand on your waist, and his mouth latched around your nipple, Matt groaned into your skin. Your head rolled back at the sensation of his warm tongue on you, your whole body felt like it was on fire as his touch became feverish.

"Matt, please, please, I need it, I need you" you whined, you weren't sure what you were begging for but the pleads spilled from your mouth almost on instinct.

Matt removed his mouth from you and tugged at your shirt, you shifted slightly to assist him as he threw it across the room. He palmed the flesh of your half exposed tits, growing frustrated at the sight of the baby blue lace of your bralette that kept him from seeing you completely. With one swift rip, he tore the flimsy fabric open at the seams, leaving it in scraps on his mattress. The vision of your heaving chest incited something animalistic in him and he instantly dove down, latching his mouth around you once more.

The moan that left your throat was guttural, your back arching off the bed as his hand slipped down between the two of you, skipping the teasing and heading straight for your throbbing clit. The tip of his middle finger found your nub instantly and without hesitation, he set an agonising pace, rubbing blissful circles over it as his tongue continued to work your nipple. He moved his hand down, swiping his ring and middle through your sopping wet folds. Your toes curled at the feeling and with that, Matt inserted his long fingers into your tight hole.

The feeling of you clenching around his fingers made his stomach tense, a deep, hungry moan leaving his mouth and vibrating around your tit. Your thighs clenched around his wrist, he brought his knee to yours and pushed your legs open with brute force, pinning you open for him as he made his way down your skin with wet and sloppy kisses. As he moved, he pulled down your pyjama bottoms and panties, the cold air peppering goosebumps all over your skin as he slowly exposed you to him.

You were completely bare, spread out on his bed. He got to his feet, knees resting on the edge of the bed as he gawked down at you, his chest heaving in anticipation at the sight of you like this for him, something he thought he'd never see again.

"are you sure y'wanna do this?" he said, removing his hands from you completely.

"Matt, you're the only thing I've ever been sure about in my entire life" you panted, sitting up, placing your hand on his chest and leaning up into him.

His fingers pressed against your core once more, attaching his lips to yours as you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck.

"I've missed you, so fuckin' much" Matt confessed into the kiss, pushing you further up the bed as he crawled between your open legs.

Your hands came to the waistband of his joggers and pushed them down with desperation, moaning into the messy kiss as he thrust his slender fingers in and out of you at a tormenting pace. You wrapped your hand around his cock and he bucked into your touch, chasing the feeling of you pumping him. He broke the kiss with a breathy whine, head dropping to the crook of your neck as he assisted you in lining his throbbing length up with your sopping hole. He pulled his fingers from you and rubbed small circles over your clit, you pressed his leaking tip against your hole.

Matt moaned your name, the feeling of your wet pussy so close to being around him making his vision go blurry.

His hand came to your face, pressing bruises into your cheek as he shifted you both to lay on your sides, facing each other. He moved his hand down, lifting your leg and hooked it over his waist, pulling you into him with such force that a short squeal left your lips. You continued pumping him, rubbing his tip through your folds, when you brushed him back over your hole, Matt bucked his hips, the sting of him stretching you out for a brief second inciting throaty moans from the both of you.

Once he had a taste, he was lost in it, and Matt pushed himself inside of you again, this time allowing himself to bottom out in your gummy, soaked walls. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation, your forehead pressing against his as he breathed desperate moans into your open mouth.

"Jesus christ you feel so fuckin' good" Matt whined, thrusting into you with one hand tucked between your face and his pillow, and the other on your thigh, the pressure of his touch sure to leave bruises behind.

He was bottoming out completely as your pussy milked him, clenching around his hard cock, and you felt as if you could cum from the sensation of his touches alone. Your whole body was tingling, every inch of your skin on fire with pure bliss as he fucked up into you at a steady pace.

"Matt, go faster, please" You whimpered, clawing at the back of his neck, tugging at the messy curls that gathered there.

He didn't need to be told twice, with a low growl, Matt set a rapid pace, fucking into you like it was the last thing he would ever do. Your moans were pornographic, the sting of his skin slapping against yours, coupled with the blissful stretch of your pussy around his cock sending you into a deep state of euphoria.

Matt grunted repeatedly, moaning your name over and over again as he fucked into you desperately. His moans made your ears ring, you brought a hand down in between you both and collected some of the juices that leaked from your pussy onto his cock, moving your fingers up to rub rapid circles across your puffy clit.

Matt grunted at the sight, his grip on your skin turning to blunt nailed scratches as he hardened his thrusts, pounding into you relentlessly as you worked your clit.

"keep doing that, angel, keep doing that for me, you feel so fucking good clenching around me like this, jesus christ, you're so fucking sexy when you touch yourself for me" he was rambling, completely consumed by the sight of you, the feeling of you milking his cock bringing him closer and closer to his release.

"fuck, Matt, m'gonna cum, m'gonna cum" you cried out, tears pricking at your eyes as he fucked into you at a rapid pace. the sensation of his merciless grip on your skin coupled with the stimulation of your throbbing clit making you see stars.

"cum for me, angel, cum f'me, I'm right there with you, m'right there with you" his words were almost incoherent.

The sound of him telling you to cum was enough to send you tumbling down into ecstasy, and he was right behind you. The vice grip your clenching pussy had around his cock was incredible, and wet sounds of your cum releasing all over his length filled the air as his pace became sloppy, chasing his high as he stuttered inside of you.

"Fuck, Matt" you cried out, and the sound of you crying out his name sent him over the edge.

He released threads of ropy cum into your gaping hole, fucking his seed into you as his movements began to slow.

Your breathless pants filled the room as you both came down from your highs, foreheads pressed against each others, sharing oxygen as your leg remained wrapped around his waist. His hand caressed the side of your face, pushing your hair out the way to look at your pretty, fucked out face. 

When you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you and the feeling of his eyes baring into yours made your skin hot. 

“Hi” you smiled. 

“Hey” He cheesed back, rubbing small circles on your warm cheeks. 

After a brief moment of loving stares, reality set in, and you remembered the agonising events that led you to being here, tangled up with him like this. The dark circles around Matts eyes that mimicked your own broke your heart, and in that moment, you couldn't bare the thought of never being away from him ever again.

“I um—I’m really sorry, Matt.” Your smile dropped into a sincere, pleading expression. 

“You don’t have to apologise to me, y/n” Matt shook his head against the pillow. 

“No, I —“ you sat up, resting on your elbow to look down at him. His hand on your cheek didn’t falter and you pressed your head into his touch with closed eyes, “I do. I’m so fucking sorry, Matt. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I—I just freaked out because you called me baby and I —“ your rambling was cut off by his voice.

“Wait” he said, shifting to rest against his headboard, letting his hand drift down the soft skin of your arm, “all of this, was because I called you baby?” He asked through a short, baffled laugh. 

You nodded, some what embarrassed, sitting up completely in front of him, taking his large hand in yours and toying with the rings on his fingers. 

“But, I called you baby all the time” Matt chuckled, grasping your hand in his and gaining your attention back to his soft eyes. 

“I know, it just— it freaked me out because I think I realised in that moment that I was in love with you and, I just didn’t know how to handle that” you looked away from him again, the weight of your confession making your voice crack. 

Matts ears began to ring, “You’re in love with me?” He questioned, thinking his mind was playing tricks on him. 

You locked eyes with him again, he looked so soft, his kind eyes almost sparkling with happiness at your words, “yeah, I'm in love you, Matt” you nodded, “I am, and I — I tried to ignore it, I tried to push it down and forget about it but, I couldn’t, I don’t know how to forget you” 

Matt didn’t say anything, he felt as though all the words in the English language were ripped from his brain as you told him you loved him for the second time. He simply starred at you in awe, your hand firm in his grip. 

“Can you say something, please” you said, your eyes flitting away from his for a second before returning to their prior position. 

“Y/n/n, I— I’ve been in love with you since we were ten years old” the words spilled from his mouth, a wave of utter relief washing over him at the feeling of finally admitting a fact he’s known for half his life. 

“You have?” Your expression was pleading as your eyes widened at his confession. 

“I’ve loved you more and more everyday I’ve known you, I just didn’t realise it until that night when— when we kissed” He said, sitting up and lingering inches away from your face. He brought his hand back up to your face, “You don’t know how to forget me?” He chuckled, “I couldn’t ever forget you, even if I tried, even if I wanted to” his lips brushing over yours softly as you breathed into his parted mouth. 

You didn’t respond with words, instead, you pressed your lips against his with such force that it sent him back down to his satin pillow.

You were terrified, and completely enamoured by him. You loved him more than you'd ever thought possible and he loved you just the same. And despite the fact that the idea of being loved, truly loved, scared you beyond belief, you no longer felt like you were drowning. Because you knew that no matter what happened, Matt would always be there to dive into the rocky waters and pull you to the surface.

taglist: @sturniozalt @shaquilles-0atmeal @blahbel668 @sleepysturniolo @le4hsblog @prissyhs @mattslolita

[moonpascal]

VOODOO DOLL II T.N

summary: theo can’t get you out of his head. which could only mean you put a spell on him. or loosely based on a song

warnings: mean theo, language, hurt/comfort l WC 3.4k

authors note: fourth time trying to post this so let’s see how that goes

“She’s not going to magically appear if you keep staring at her table,” Mattheo muttered, irritation clear in his tone. Theo scoffed but kept his gaze fixed on the empty spot at the Gryffindor table.

Theo couldn’t stand you. That’s what he told anyone who would listen—you were too nice, too annoying, and every little thing you did got on his nerves.

The way you helped anyone in need, no matter if they treated you unfairly in the past. How you smiled at everyone and everything. Always in a good mood, when Theo couldn’t fathom why.

“Good morning, guys! Did you finish the Arithmancy homework from yesterday?” Your cheerful voice cut through his thoughts, nearly making him jump. Speak of the devil, he thought bitterly.

Theo rolled his eyes at your question. “Forgot again, or just getting lazier?” he sneered.

But your smile didn’t waver; if anything, it grew brighter. “Actually, I just need help with sections 6 and 8. I stayed up all night and still couldn’t figure them out!”

He couldn’t understand why you always talked to them—why you always acted so friendly with the rivals of your house. Maybe that was another reason he couldn’t stand you; it felt like you were deliberately trying to get under their skin.

“Sucks to be—” Mattheo began, but Theo jabbed his elbow into his side, cutting him off with a sharp look.

“Just here, take my paper,” he grumbled, pulling out his parchment and thrusting it toward you. Your fingers brushed his briefly, and Theo jerked his hand back as a tingling sensation shot through him.

“Thanks, Theodore!” you beamed, practically skipping back to your table, which only irritated Theo more.

“What the hell was that?” Mattheo demanded.

“Fuck if I know. I couldn’t stop myself,” Theo muttered. “I wanted to tell her to piss off and figure it out on her own.” He scowled, shoving his food away, his appetite suddenly gone.

“Maybe she’s got you under some spell, Nott,” Draco chuckled. “Drink anything suspicious lately?”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Theo snapped, the idea unsettling him. The thought of you having that kind of influence over him was ridiculous.

He could still feel the ghost of your touch, as if you were still caressing his hand, even though you were now back at your table, tongue out in concentration as you scribbled down the answers.

“Don’t get why she didn’t just ask Granger for help,” Lorenzo chimed in, mouth full of food.

“Because Hermione wouldn’t just give her the answers. She’d explain it step by step—which she doesn’t have time for—since it’s her next class,” Theo replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The boys exchanged knowing smirks. “And how exactly do you know that?” Blaise teased.

Theo realized how that sounded, but before he could defend himself, you reappeared to hand him his paper back.

“You’re a lifesaver, Theodore! I owe you one,” you said, squeezing his bicep in appreciation before heading off to class early as ever.

“Yeah, whatever,” Theo muttered, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of your touch, the burning sensation in his chest, and the rapid beat of his heart whenever you were near.

Once you were out of sight, his heart began to slow, but a different ache settled in. It was almost like he missed you—which was ridiculous. He shook the thought from his mind immediately.

Maybe someone did slip him something; whether it was a prank or an accidental slip-up, he had to get rid of it, and fast.

———

Days passed, and Theo only felt worse. He constantly thought you were nearby, even when he knew you were in a different class on the other side of the school. Your touch was ingrained in his mind, as if he could still feel you. Some days, it felt like you were right next to him, invading his personal space, only for him to see you across the field, chatting with your friends.

His friends were no help when he mentioned it. They just teased him endlessly on having a crush on a Gryffindor, which he quickly shot down.

You were an annoyance. Someone who bugged the hell out of him, and that was it—nothing more.

To make matters worse, you both got paired up in Muggle Studies. A class he took just to piss off his dad was now backfiring spectacularly.

The assignment was to write an essay about what Muggles believed to be ‘witchcraft,’ which seemed simple enough—if only he didn’t have to work with you.

“Okay so I was thinking of voodoo dolls, because I think others are gonna pick psychics or magicians,” you started, flipping through some pages of your textbook, “and I think we could get extra points if we somehow have a physical doll!”

He could feel your excitement radiating off of you and it was nauseating but he nodded and agreed. You went on and said you would send an owl to your mother to see if she could buy one from the shops in your hometown.

Theo barely paid attention as you rambled on about your plans for the essay. The way you spoke with so much enthusiasm, your eyes bright with excitement—it was almost unbearable. Not because it annoyed him, but because it made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t ready to confront.

“Do you even care about this project?” you asked suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. You were watching him with a hint of concern in your eyes, which only made him feel more unsettled.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I care about passing,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. “But I don’t see why you’re so invested in it.”

You shrugged, the usual brightness in your expression dimming a little. “I just think it’s interesting, that’s all. And maybe…” You hesitated, then added, “I thought it’d be nice to work with you.”

Theo blinked, caught off guard by your honesty. His initial reaction was to snap back with a sarcastic comment, to push you away as he always did. But something stopped him.

“Why?” The question slipped out before he could stop himself.

You looked down, fiddling with your quill. “I don’t know. You’re different from most people, Theodore. You’re not afraid to be yourself, even if that means being a little rough around the edges.”

He stared at you, stunned into silence. Was that how you saw him? And why did it make his heart skip a beat? He could feel his defenses cracking, the walls he’d built so carefully starting to crumble.

“Anyway,” you said quickly, as if embarrassed by your admission, “I’ll let you know if my mom finds a voodoo doll. We can meet up later to go over the details?”

“Yeah… sure,” he replied, his voice sounding far away. He watched as you gathered your things, flashing him another bright smile before leaving the classroom.

Once you were gone, Theo let out a frustrated groan, slumping back in his chair. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never let anyone get under his skin like this before. Yet, with you, it was like he had no control over his own emotions. There was something wrong with him.

The thought of you saying he was “different” kept replaying in his mind. It wasn’t an insult, but it wasn’t exactly comforting either. He hated the idea that you could have this effect on him.

As the days went on, he found himself increasingly distracted by you. The way you laughed with your friends, the way you focused on your studies, the way you went out of your way to be kind to everyone—even to him, despite how he treated you.

The next time you met to work on the project, Theo couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering to your hands as you gestured animatedly, explaining some new idea you had. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have those hands touch him again—whether by accident or design.

When you handed him a book, he purposely brushed his fingers against yours and once more, he felt that now-familiar jolt of electricity. But this time, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let the contact linger for just a moment longer, savoring the warmth that spread through him.

But as soon as the moment passed, he cursed himself silently. He couldn’t let this happen. You were a Gryffindor, and you represented everything he claimed to hate—yet, here he was, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, noticing his distant expression.

“No,” he said quickly, forcing a smirk. “Just thinking about how ridiculous this project is. Muggles and their superstitions.”

You laughed, and the sound sent another pang through his chest. “It is pretty silly, isn’t it? But it’s kind of fascinating too, don’t you think?”

Theo shrugged, playing it cool. “Sure, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I am,” you said with a grin. “But maybe by the end of this, you will be too.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no real malice behind it. “Don’t count on it.”

As you continued working, Theo found himself glancing at you more often, watching the way your lips moved as you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you got excited about something.

After the study session, Theo left with an unfamiliar smile tugging at his lips, lost in thoughts of you. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice Mattheo approaching from behind in the hallway.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Mattheo said, his voice laced with curiosity. “What’s with the grin? Did you win a fight?”

Theo scoffed, quickly wiping the smile from his face and replacing it with his usual scowl. “Salazar’s sake, no, I wasn’t in a fight.”

“Then why are you so happy? Snog someone? Wait—don’t tell me, did you snog Bug?” Mattheo teased, his tone dripping with mockery, fully aware of how much Theo loathed that nickname recently.

“Stop calling her that,” Theo snapped, shaking Mattheo’s arm off and feeling his good mood souring by the second.

“Oh, since when do you come to her defense? Especially when you’re the one who started calling her that,” Mattheo retorted, raising an eyebrow. The nickname had been an impulsive jab, something Theo came up with in a moment of annoyance. Now, it felt like a cruel joke.

Ignoring Mattheo, Theo continued down the hallway toward the Slytherin dorms, determined to work on his portion of the essay. But Mattheo wasn’t ready to let it go.

Once they reached the Slytherin common room, Mattheo seized the opportunity to stir the pot. “Hey, guys, doesn’t Theo seem a little… different lately?” he announced, adopting an exaggerated infomercial voice. “We barely see him, and when we do, he’s actually smiling.”

Theo halted in his tracks, irritation bubbling up inside him.

“I noticed that too,” Pansy chimed in, her tone dripping with curiosity. “He’s been sneaking off a lot.”

“Yeah, what’s the deal, Nott?” Blaise added, his voice teasing. “Too good for us now?”

Theo rolled his eyes, adjusting the stack of books you had recommended in his arms. “I’ve just been busy, you know—actually doing schoolwork.”

“Sure, and by ‘schoolwork,’ you mean hanging out with Bug,” Draco chimed in, his grin widening. “I thought you couldn’t stand her?”

“You lot are a bunch of tossers,” Theo shot back, his patience wearing thin. “Yes, I’ve been working with her because we got paired up for a project. That’s all.”

They exchanged skeptical glances, sensing there was more to the story.

“What’s the project about?” Pansy asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Theo let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s an essay on Voodoo dolls for Muggle Studies.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Mattheo’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Voodoo dolls? Are you serious, Theo? You’re supposed to be the smart one here!”

Theo frowned, confused by Mattheo’s sudden outburst. “What the hell are you on about now?”

“Voodoo dolls, you daft git!” Mattheo exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat. “They’re Muggles’ way of trying to control people! Haven’t you been paying attention? She might have one of you—that’s probably why you’ve been acting so strange!”

Theo stared at Mattheo, a mix of annoyance and unease settling in. The idea was absurd—yet the possibility gnawed at him. Was that really what was happening? It would make a lot of sense.

Theo dropped everything and bolted out of the common room, his mind racing as he stormed through the castle. The further he went, the angrier he became. How could you do this to him? He thought he was finally feeling something other than disdain toward you—only to find out you were messing with his head.

As he rounded the final corner near the Gryffindor common room, he spotted you. But you weren’t alone. You were talking to another Gryffindor, laughing that same laugh you shared with him. The sight made his blood boil, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Was messing with my head not enough for you?” Theo shouted, his voice filled with fury. “Did you need more attention, so you found another tosser to add to your list?”

You flinched at his sudden outburst but didn’t immediately turn to face him. You quietly excused yourself from the conversation with your housemate before turning to glare at Theo.

The look you gave him was like nothing he’d ever seen on your face before—cold, angry, and so unlike the usual warmth you radiated. It unnerved him to be on the receiving end of such a glare.

“Can I help you, Nott?” you asked, your voice eerily calm. If Theo had been less blinded by his own anger, he might have noticed the tension in your jaw and the way your fists clenched at your sides.

“Yes, you can start by telling me what the hell you did to me!” Theo took a step closer, looming over you in an attempt to intimidate, but you stood your ground, unfazed.

“I haven’t done anything—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Theo interrupted, his hands gripping your shoulders as if shaking you might jog your memory. “You came up with that stupid voodoo doll project, and ever since then, you’ve been in my head day in and day out! So don’t act like you don’t know what’s going on!”

You shoved him off you, your scoff laced with disbelief and hurt. “You’re so full of yourself, Nott. Do you really think I’d waste my time controlling you? What kind of person do you think I am? Do you honestly believe I’m that desperate for attention?”

Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his accusation hurt. “Fuck you, Nott. Maybe you should take a hard look at yourself instead of blaming me for the fact that you’re finally feeling something—anything—other than that cold, emotionless shell you’ve built around yourself.”

Theo stood there, speechless, as you turned and disappeared behind the Fat Lady’s portrait. Every word you said hit him like a punch to the gut. He knew you were right—he’d been pushing people away for so long that he didn’t know how to deal with real emotions. But hearing it from you, someone he had started to care about, hurt more than he could admit. He knew he owed you an apology, but he had no idea where to start.

The walk back to the Slytherin common room was humiliating. When he entered, his friends were in the same spots, waiting with anticipation.

“Well?” Mattheo asked impatiently, a smug grin on his face like he knew he was right all along.

“You lot are absolute wankers,” Theo muttered, snatching up the books he had dropped earlier without sparing them a second glance. He stormed up to his dorm room, ignoring their confused looks.

He had to find a way to make things right with you. The ache in his chest wasn’t just the usual discomfort he felt around you—it was something deeper, something he couldn’t ignore.

———

Theo spent the entire night poring over the books you had lent him. As he read, he realized Mattheo’s theory was complete nonsense. None of the feelings he had for you had anything to do with “voodoo” or any other magical influence. They were real, and they terrified him.

Determined to fix the mess he had made, Theo stayed up to finish the entire essay by himself, lightening your workload. He even turned it in first thing in the morning, two days before the assignment was due.

He spent the rest of the day trying to find you to let you know you didn’t have to worry about the project and to apologize, but you were nowhere to be found. He searched the Great Hall, the library, and even, with great reluctance, asked Potter if he had seen you. No luck.

By the time dinner rolled around, Theo was too distracted to eat. His fork aimlessly pushed food around his plate while his head rested on his palm. Enzo jabbed him in the side, snapping him out of his daze. Theo shot him a glare but followed Enzo’s gaze to see you walking past their table without so much as a glance in their direction. When you sat down at your table, your eyes instinctively met Theo’s, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw a flicker of something softer. He offered a small smile, but you rolled your eyes and turned back to your friends.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her anything but cheerful. She must be pissed that we figured her out, huh?” Enzo commented, eliciting a few laughs from the group.

Theo’s fork clattered onto his plate, the loud noise silencing them immediately. They had seen Theo angry before, but never like this, never directed at them.

“Do you ever think about anyone other than yourselves?” Theo snapped. “She didn’t do anything wrong. What’s wrong is that I listened to you lot and screwed everything up.”

He abruptly stood and made his way over to you. You furrowed your brows in confusion, aware that Slytherins didn’t usually venture to the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. The hushed whispers that followed Theo didn’t faze him; he only cared about setting things right.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, asking you to follow him. Despite your better judgment, curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself following him out of the Great Hall.

Theo led you to a secluded hallway, casting a quick Muffliato charm to ensure privacy. He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a moment before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice heavy with regret. “I was an absolute tosser. You were right—I’ve never felt anything like this before, and it scared me. I tried to find every excuse to deny it, and in the process, I lashed out at you. I shouldn’t have accused you of something so ridiculous.”

You stared at him, your silence unnerving him. He continued, desperation creeping into his tone. “I know there’s no excuse for what I said, and I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. But if there’s any chance, I’d like to start over. I’ll do anything to make it right.”

Maybe it was because you had started liking Theo too, or maybe it was the sincerity in his apology, but it wasn’t hard to forgive him.

“Although getting accused wasn’t ideal and did hurt, I accept your apology, Theodore,” you said, offering him a small smile—the smile he didn’t realize how much he’d missed until now.

Theo’s heart lifted at your words. “If I’m not pushing my luck… could I take you to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Theo held his breath, anxiously awaiting your response. You hesitated for a moment, the silence stretching between you, before finally stepping closer. With a gentle smile, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just a second longer than necessary. As you pulled back, your eyes met his, filled with a warmth that made his heart race.

“I’d like that,” you whispered, your voice tender and genuine.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Theo felt the tight knot in his chest begin to loosen.

©𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥 2024

[luvdsc]

barbie girl.

if life is plastic (and therefore, nonbiodegradable), then it’s so not fantastic. honestly, who came up with that? regina george really should’ve googled about the new plastics economy.

or alternatively, pretty girls rule the world, and you find out that he’s (not) all that.

pairing :: na jaemin x reader genre :: comedy, fluff, angst ⋮ makeover + college au word count :: 24,618 words warnings :: body issues, body image, weight mentions, insecurities, beauty is a social construct, [spoiler] did something bad, people being literal scum, so much gaslighting that you can start a wildfire and j*ke gyll*nh*al should take notes, “if a man talks shit then i owe him nothing” playlist :: pretty boys (romi) ⋆ you can’t sit with us (sunmi) ⋆ i just wanna know (katherine li) ⋆ lie to girls (sabrina carpenter) ⋆ look what you made me do (taylor swift) ⋆ leftover feelings (regina song) ⋆ number one girl (rosé) + extended playlist here. author’s note :: she’s all that is one of my most favorite rom coms ever, but i’ve always been ///: at the whole makeover idea and decided to write my own version !! the idols mentioned in this fic are just characters, and how i portray them in this fic do not reflect how i actually view them or their irl personas. as always, much love to miss lana and miss moon for being my biggest cheerleaders ᥫ᭡ ↳ part of the 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 collaboration series.

i. hiya, barbie! hi, ken!

Na Jaemin does not know that you exist.

Good looking, charismatic, and popular — it’s his world, and you’re just living in it. Or something like that. You’re decently smart, somewhat funny, and not pretty enough to stand out, but not exactly hideous according to societal standards (source: those beauty quizzes in Seventeen magazine that you used to be obsessed with when you were thirteen and in desperate need of flirting tips). If he was the main lead, you’d probably be Extra #6, maybe Extra #2 on a good day.

By your calculations, the two of you should never cross paths, like two parallel lines. Wait, scratch that, you would probably never be aligned with anything that has to do with this guy. You saw him standing outside of the door of your shared accounting classroom during your fall semester, and he spent twenty five minutes editing his picture for Instagram and ended up late for the lecture. And he probably already spent even more time selecting the final photo to edit before you arrived to class and noticed him. Absolute idiot. Absolute handsome idiot, but idiot nonetheless. A grade A himbo with a grade C in financial accounting. 

Okay, so scrap the parallel lines theory, maybe skew lines are a better way of explaining it. Yeah, that seems about right, the two of you are from completely different dimensions, never meant to interact or run parallel with each other. And once again, by this logic, your paths should never cross.

“Y/N!”

You stand corrected.

Na Jaemin does know that you exist.

You suddenly remember that there was that one small group presentation in that very same aforementioned accounting class, and you were assigned to the same group as Jaemin. Armed with this rediscovered memory, you are going to revise your earlier response and say that the correct descriptor for your relationship is perpendicular lines. That sounds right. Final answer. You’re locking it in.

Your paths should have only intersected once, the two of you should be going in different directions, and even though you’re in another class with him again for spring semester this year (since all freshmen with a business major has to take the same Gen. Ed. classes), not once have the two of you had a proper conversation with each other (He asked you to pass a note one time, but that barely counts). Jaemin should have forgotten you by now, and you should be continuing on with your side character life that you’re very much content with.

So then why on earth is he shouting your name like you’re old friends and causing what feels like every person within a one mile radius to stare at you?

He’s unknowingly giving you your main character moment, and you very quickly realize that you do not feel like the Y/N in any one of those Gojo fanfics you read religiously at three in the morning when you should really be studying or sleeping.

Instead, you feel like a bug watching its impending doom as a Doc Marten boot starts to descend at an alarming speed and you can’t even try to scuttle out of the way to avoid it. Frozen in your spot, you can only watch as your university’s it boy skids to a stop in front of you after running across the grass and flashing you his million dollar smile. “Hey, Y/N, right? We have ECON 13 together.”

Starstruck, your mind to mouth filter is completely shot, and all you manage to let out is a very uncool “Uh huh.”

He laughs a little breathlessly, and you feel like all the oxygen has been knocked out of your lungs, too. Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, Jaemin tilts his head to the side slightly, the sunlight catching his profile perfectly, and your breath hitches in your throat once more.

“I know this is gonna sound really, uh, forward since we barely know each other and all, but—”

You’re barely listening to him, your heart pounding in your chest and the blood rushing to your ears. It’s pretty embarrassing to see how a mere stranger with a pretty face can affect you this much. You really thought you had a much stronger willpower than this, but it’s so goddamn unfair how this boy standing in front of you has the most perfectly sculpted face you’ve ever seen. Plus, his eyelashes? Why the hell do boys always get the prettiest, thickest, and darkest lashes? 

Meanwhile, you’re out here struggling to force your perpetually straight, stubby lashes into a curl that ends up lasting only a couple hours, even when you use waterproof mascara. You still end up with flat lashes and you have to feverishly scrub your eyes to remove the blasted makeup and lose a few cherished lashes in the process.

“—with me?” Jaemin finishes, and you belatedly realize that you did not catch a single word that he said, too caught up in your inner monologue and too busy ogling. However, your heart flutters in your chest when you catch the last part of his question. Not to be too presumptuous, but it sounds like he’s asking you out. Why else would anyone randomly stop you like this and talk to you for this long? You’re positively giddy at this revelation. This is your moment, the one you’ve been waiting for your whole life, like Rapunzel waiting in her tower for the one to come and save her from her horribly mundane, repetitive life.

“Oh! Um… yes?” It’s a 50/50 chance between yes or no, and you hope that’s the correct answer he’s looking for. 

Jaemin’s face immediately brightens, and he turns his smile up another kilowatt, nearly blinding you. You grin back at him, squinting a little. This must be how Icarus felt when he flew towards the sun. 

“Oh shit, really? You’re really agreeing to tutor me? Hyuck—you know, our class’s peer TA—said I was a hopeless cause, and I would need way more one on one lessons outside of his hours and all that if I wanted to pass. And yeah, I know I could probably bitch at him until he caves since we’re kind of friends, but he would also hold this over my head, but he said you had the highest score on last week’s practice midterm, so I thought, ‘hey, why not shoot my shot?’” He directs another smile your way, pausing for a quick breath. Your mind is racing a mile a minute, and his smile isn’t helping whatsoever as your heart decides to join in this race as well until it sinks when you finally process his words.

“Wait, Donghyuck said that about me?” you manage to get out, a little dazed, and Jaemin confirms before eagerly continuing on with his chatter, but all you can do is stupidly nod as the word “TUTOR” spins around and around in your mind in bold, italicized, underlined mocking red letters in Times New Roman font, size 12, double spaced, MLA format, the whole shebang.

Of course, he only wants a tutor. What made you think that a boy like him would look twice at a girl like you? The only other time a guy has ever expressed interest in you is to share homework answers for Calculus back in 10th grade (For the record, all of his answers were completely wrong, but Sungchan was a cute distraction. Actually, the two of you became very good friends once you very quickly got over the fact that you were firmly placed in the friendzone. He’s even dating one of your best friends now).

“Anyways, can I have your number? I can text you to match our schedules and figure out the times to meet up for the next couple of weeks before our next midterm.” You remain wide eyed, gazing at him like a deer caught in the headlights and still attempting to fully understand everything that has just happened.

Jaemin looks at you expectantly, his hand outstretched towards you with his phone tucked between his fingers. The device dangles there for an additional ten seconds that probably isn’t socially acceptable. Grab the phone, you scream at yourself silently, but your body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. You blink slowly once. Then twice.

“Or, I can just… uh, type in your number if you tell me,” Jaemin says awkwardly, his smile wilting slightly as he shifts from one foot to the other under your unwavering gaze and slowly retracting his hand. Finally, you come to your senses as you quickly spring into action and snatch the phone from him, tapping in your digits and adding in your name and shared class before saving your contact.

“Here,” you mutter, returning his phone, and he gives you a relieved grin. You clutch onto the strap of your backpack a little tighter, cursing the way your heart skips a beat. “I should be free most weekday afternoons since I prefer to take all morning classes, but let me know when you’re free and we can work something out.”

“Awesome! Thank you so much, Y/N, you’re a life saver.” Jaemin beams at you, touching your shoulder briefly and you feel that very same place on your body erupt in flames as your face heats up in a similar manner. “I’ll text you tonight, yeah?”

You can only numbly nod, subconsciously raising your hand and waving at him, and Jaemin chuckles, flashing his pearly whites at you again, before he saunters off and blends into a group of other equally pretty and popular students, a few of whom look over at you with vague interest before turning their attention back to the boy who just joined them.

What have you gotten yourself into?

ii. you want to go for a ride?

“I’m getting sus vibes from him.”

Flicking her long dark hair over her shoulder, Lana takes a long sip of her wintermelon milk tea with honey pearls, a spitting image of that one infamous Starbucks meme of your school’s alumni, Hyungwon (His picture can still be found floating through discord chats, and you’re ninety percent sure your school used it in one of their recruitment brochures at one point). She’s sprawled out on the beanbag in the corner of your shared apartment’s living room, her HP laptop covered in sailor moon stickers balanced across her thighs (She swears HP is the best laptop brand, but you don’t trust electronics advice from anyone who can’t even use a toaster properly).

“Have you even spoken to Jaemin? How exactly are you getting sus vibes from him?” Moon jumps in, glancing over the top of her MacBook as she takes a quick break from her latest coding project regarding polynomials, matrices, and a bunch of other math terminology you rather not think about. You left all that arithmetic jargon back in high school after you got a 5 on both AP calculus exams and got to skip all required math classes for your accounting major (Sungchan wasn’t so lucky).

“He’s a fratboy finance major.” Lana rolls her eyes.

“Point taken, but weren’t you into that senior, Jaehyun? He’s one of them. You called him your soulmate,” you interject, and she splutters for a few seconds before putting her hand up in protest.

“Listen, I was going through a perpetual mental breakdown at the beginning of this semester. It doesn’t count. You try being a pharmacy major. Thank god I switched out to English. My mental state was compromised, and I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“What do you mean not thinking straight? Lana, you literally chose the straightest, most heterosexual man out there.” Moon jibes, closing her laptop now with an air of conceding defeat. You have to give her props for trying to work on some assignments, but you already knew no one was going to get any work done tonight. It’s a Thursday night anyway, which means you have until Tuesday to get all the homework assigned today done. You can always work on them on Monday night and inevitably curse yourself for not getting it done earlier when you end up pulling an all nighter and show up to your 8 a.m. international marketing tactics class with raccoon eyes. 

“This is bullying, and we are on an anti-bullying campus,” Lana complains, giving the two of you the stink eye before leaning over and lightly shoving the snoozing boy sprawled across the floor next to her. “Wake up, Yang. Moon and Y/N gang up on me when you’re not awake to absorb all our gentle bullying.”

The boy in question sits upright, bleary eyes and the drying ink from his notes now decorating his cheek, a lasting reminder of the makeshift pillow for his impromptu nap. Yawning, he stretches his arms, rubbing his face and making an even bigger mess of smears. “What’d I miss?”

“We were just discussing Lana‘s tragic crush on Jaehyun last year,” you say, and she makes a strangled noise next to you. “Were you up late sewing again?”

“Yes,” Yangyang grumbles, “You would think Kaneki would be so easy to cosplay since he wears all black, but the mask is taking forever to make.”

“Can’t one of your sugar daddies buy one for you?”

“What sugar daddies? If I had one, I wouldn’t be stuck in here trying to balance equations,” he moans, crumpling up another sheet filled up with scribbles and his latest attempts at answering the second to last problem for organic chemistry.

“My bad, I thought you would have some from your cosplay account.” Moon shrugs, rummaging through her large soccer mom purse for a snack and triumphantly pulling out a box of green tea Hello Pandas. “You have like 100k followers on there.”

“My audience demographic is weebs.” Yangyang deadpans. “How many weebs do you know who are rich enough to send five thousand dollars every week to a struggling college student?”

“Wait, we’re going off topic right now. What do you know about Jaemin, Yang?” Lana cuts in, and Moon nods in agreement (You try not to look too interested, but fail miserably, no doubt).

“Jaemin Na? I’ve never talked to him personally, but there’s always stories about him and his friends. Jeno is on the baseball team and notorious for his body count. He’s the one that takes up like 30% of our university’s anonymous confessions Twitter account. This is his insta, but he’s not really active on social media.” Yangyang passes his phone around for the three of you to see Jeno’s Instagram. There’s a whopping total of fourteen posts, and every picture of him with someone of the opposite sex features a different girl. Instant red flag.

“Lia is pretty big on Tik Tok,” Yangyang continues, grabbing his phone to pull up her account to show all of you. “She’s pretty and is actually really good at singing, but she's basically trying to be the next Addison Rae. Jimin models, and she’s going by Karina nowadays. I heard she tried to trademark that name or something. She posts dancing Tik Toks. She and Yeonjun collab a lot. He walks for New York fashion week and has a Tik Tok for dancing, too. I’m like 70% sure they’re only dating to boost their views. Somi is the most popular one out of them. She’s the blonde one. She’s pretty talented and I heard she signed onto the same company as the Blackpink House. She’s even done a makeup video with Vogue recently.”

“And Jaemin has a pretty large social following. He takes decent pictures, and that’s what he insists his insta is for, but let’s be real, the majority of his followers are there for his face. You should see his TikTok. He literally just recorded himself looking at the camera and put some generic caption, and he racked up like seven hundred thousand likes,” Yangyang grumbles, pulling up his account to show you all the video in question. “Like literally, what the hell is this? I have to put in so many hours making my outfits and editing my videos and all he does is smile and paste ‘Don’t have a valentine again… hope this will change soon’ on top, and the preteens are foaming at the mouth.”

“Wow, jumpscare warning next time you show me him please.” Lana wrinkles her nose at the repeating offensive clip. Yangyang merely shoves his phone even closer to her in response, and she flips him off.

“Hey, you’re the one who asked about him. Why are you suddenly interested in him? Is this your Jaehyun 2.0 phase starting up?” Yangyang grins, and Lana flicks his forehead in retaliation.

“Shut up, when are you guys gonna let that die? Besides, it’s Y/N who’s interested, not me,” Lana retorts, and immediately, the spotlight is back on you. You cough awkwardly, feeling a bit uncomfortable with all the attention.

“Uh, he just asked if I would tutor him…”

“And you said yes?” Yangyang sounds scandalized and utterly betrayed. “Why would you willingly fraternize with the enemy like that?”

“What enemy? I didn’t even know he knew I existed until this very recent development occurred.” 

“Influencers like him are instant enemies to me, and as my friend, he’s your enemy by association. I can't believe you’re helping the competition,” Yangyang sniffs.

You don’t have the guts to tell them all that the only reason you accepted his tutor proposal is because you got ahead of yourself and despite all the odds and signs, thought Jaemin was asking you out. You know your friends won’t make fun of you (too badly), but that is completely humiliating, and you will be taking that to the grave.

“It’s just tutoring, don’t be so dramatic,” you scoff, making a face at him. “He texted me yesterday, and we’re meeting up at the library later today, and I reserved a private study room for two hours.”

“Oooh, so it’s a study date?” Moon teases, and your cheeks betray you with the amount of heat now emanating off of them.

“Shut up, it’s literally just tutoring. We’re going over supply and demand curves.” 

“No, back up, he texted you yesterday and you didn’t tell us about him until today?” Lana interjects, holding up her hand and putting on a faux offended expression. “What kind of friend are you? We’re supposed to tell each other every nitty gritty detail about our love lives! Like Sungchan texts Moon good morning texts at eight in the morning, and by 8:30 a.m., we’re already getting a play by play about it in the group chat!”

Moon turns pink and opens her mouth before deciding against it and quietly shuts it. Yangyang silently laughs next to Lana, his shoulders shaking (You decide that you shouldn’t tell them Jaemin actually asked you in person to tutor him three days ago or else, Lana will chew you out even more).

You protest, flailing your arms around slightly in exasperation. “There’s literally zero development in my love life! I have nothing going on in it, and I can guarantee you that he does not see me in that light whatsoever.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.” Lana looks wholly unconvinced, and your two friends look back and forth between the two of you like two kids watching their divorced parents fight. “So… Do you need help picking out an outfit for tomorrow?”

“… Yeah.”

iii. sure, ken. jump in!

“Hey, Y/N!” 

Jaemin loudly whispers a little breathlessly as he drops his bag onto the table and slumps into the chair next to yours, his chest heaving slightly. Startled, you jerk up in your chair, heart skipping a beat when you realize he’s here. You were supposed to be in a private study room, but there was a group of boys already in there, and as the most non-confrontational person to walk this earth, you decided to cut your losses and take a table nearby.

“Did you wait long? I got caught up outside the library when Somi stopped me and completely forgot,” he says apologetically, pulling out his textbooks, and you shake your head, giving him a shy smile.

“No, it’s alright. I was already here anyway, and I got some extra studying done.” You gesture towards the papers and notebooks strewn across the table’s surface, covered in your notes from today’s classes. “Should we start with today’s lesson? How much did you understand in class today?”

“Maybe the first five minutes of it only.”

You pause, glancing over at him. “Professor Hwang was ten minutes late to class.”

“Exactly.” Jaemin nods, and you stifle a laugh. He grins at you. “I don’t think you realize how much of a hopeless cause I am when you agreed to tutor me.”

“We can start from the beginning then. You have four weeks until the midterm, and we can go through every lesson we’ve had so far. I’ll make up a study schedule if you give me yours. And if you continue to go to Donghyuck’s tutoring hours too, you should hopefully be able to catch up and do well on the midterm.”

Jaemin wordlessly pulls up his class schedule on his phone, and you plug them into a Google calendar that you quickly share to his email. “So, I color coded your classes in green, and my classes are in pink. Do you have any other things that we need to work around?”

He peers over at your screen, scanning the contents. “I have my weekly frat meetings on Tuesday nights and mandatory events on other nights.”

“Alright, you can put them in and we’ll figure out meeting times,” you say, pushing your laptop towards him and he starts to add in his extracurricular activities.

 “Party from 8 pm to 1 am?” you read skeptically, your eyes scanning over the event he tacked in under this week’s Friday.

“Yeah, can’t miss it,” Jaemin says, typing in more events and making sure to color code them in blue. “Don’t you have things to do on Friday night too?”

“Uh, maybe grab a poke bowl from the dining hall to go and watch another Banana Fish episode,” you say awkwardly, fiddling with the small Gojo keychain you have attached to your pouch.

Jaemin stops, looking over at you. “You watch Banana Fish?”

Your cheeks grow warm. “… Yeah, why?” 

His eyes light up and he asks eagerly, “Did you see the latest episode? When Golzine leaves Arthur in charge?”

The two of you continue discussing the plot as he finishes up adding in his schedule for the next four weeks, finally nudging the laptop back towards you. “Do you need to add in your stuff too?”

“Mm no, it’s fine. I already put in my classes, and I’m not in any clubs or sororities,” you answer, making sure to input Donghyuck’s tutoring hours as well before scanning over the calendar and pinpointing areas where he’s free for at least one to two hours. “Okay, should we start with meeting three times a week?”

“Huh, you memorized Hyuck’s hours?” Jaemin notes, giving you a sly smile as he moves closer to look at the schedule.

“Huh? No, don’t you always know your professors’ and TAs’ office hours?” you ask, looking up and are immediately startled after underestimating the proximity between you and the beautiful boy next to you. 

“No, I’m not a nerd,” he snorts lightly, and you laugh awkwardly, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction and put a little more distance between the two of you before you go into cardiac arrest, “Right, yeah, well, anyway—”

“You were also interested when I said Hyuck mentioned you before,” Jaemin says suddenly, sitting up straight before a wide grin spreads across his face as he loudly exclaims, “You totally have a crush on him!”

“Quiet down!” You immediately shush him, the tips of your ears burning as everyone within a 40 feet radius in the library is now staring at the two of you. You’ve never received this much attention before, and you very quickly realize that you absolutely hate it. You loudly whisper-protest, stumbling over your words in a panic, “I—I don’t have a crush on him!”

“Oh, come on, your face is getting hot and you’re stuttering. You do too like him,” Jaemin laughs softly, propping his elbow onto the table and resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he gives you a once over. “I could totally make you into his type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask hotly, cheeks burning even more when you feel his eyes graze over your figure.

“Oh, it’ll be so much fun. We can go to the mall and pick out some cute clothes for you, and then swing by the hair shop. You’re definitely using the wrong conditioner and shampoo,” Jaemin continues, eying your hair for a quick second.

“Wait, wait, we’re just here for tutoring, what are you even talking about?” You ask, bewildered before grasping a stray strand of your hair between your fingers. “And what do you mean I’m using the wrong shampoo?”

“And conditioner,” Jaemin pipes up, picking up his phone to search up some better brands he would recommend. “What have you been using? 2 in 1 Head and Shoulders?”

“No,” you huff softly, your ears growing even warmer at the accusation. “I just use whatever my mom buys in bulk at Costco.”

“Okay, well, you should use this instead,” Jaemin says, showing his phone screen to you, and your eyes widen slightly when you note the price tag.

“I cannot be forking over nearly seventy dollars on shampoo and conditioner,” you say incredulously, pushing his phone back towards him and waving your hand dismissively. “And there’s no way I’m going to spend even more money on new clothes.”

“Okay, fine, I think I have some unopened bottles from sponsored deals that I can give to you,” Jaemin sighs, opening up his text messages to find his friends’ group chat. “Or my friends would have some good ones, too. Maybe we can get you some of their free clothes from sponsorships, too.”

“You guys just get free clothes?” 

“Yeah,” he shrugs, glancing over at you. “On second thought, Karina and Lia aren’t the same size as you, so you won’t fit them. We can just order some basic pieces online or something for starters.”

“We—We aren’t doing this,” you loudly whisper back to him, hyper aware of the other students around you who keep glancing over at Jaemin. “Let’s just focus on making this schedule and helping you pass your midterm.”

“Oh, please, doll, it’d be fun. Just think of it as a payment for your tutoring,” Jaemin persuades you, scooting closer to you and pressing his thigh against yours lightly. Your breath hitches in your throat at the pet name and his touch. You’ve never been this close to any boy before, let alone one as attractive as Jaemin.

“You’ll look so pretty, I know the perfect outfits to make for you. And I can teach you how to get Hyuck’s attention, too,” he continues, nudging you lightly, and you’re still dazed, unable to get over the fact that he’s impossibly close to you, close enough for you to count the pretty lashes framing his even prettier eyes. You wonder what it’s like to be that beautiful, what it’s like to have people falling at your feet, what it’s like to mesmerize everyone the second you walk into a room.

Honestly, if Jaemin asked you to jump, your only response would be “how high.”

“If I agree to this, will you finally pay attention?” you sigh, and Jaemin instantly brightens up, nodding and giving you another one of those smiles that makes your stomach flip flop. Your Achilles’ heel is one very persistent boy who goes by the name of Na Jaemin, and he has hit you with a direct bullseye.

“Yes, I’ll be a model student, doll.”

You hesitate for a split second before relenting. “Okay, fine, deal.”

iv. i’m a barbie girl in the barbie world.

Jaemin is easy on the eyes, but currently proving to be very difficult for your nerves during your fourth tutoring session. Your wardrobe has increased in style and size by now, and you’re dressed in a pretty lilac top that wraps around you and accentuates your curves and hides what needs to be hidden perfectly. Your jeans may dig a little more than you’d like into your stomach, but it’s your fault that you chose to wear your photo jeans instead of your sitting jeans. Also, your hair has never looked better, all thanks to the boy seated next to you.

“No, when there is a low supply, there’s a high demand. They directly affect each other,” you try to re-explain to the boy next to you, drawing out the line graph once again. He stares down at the familiar graph before looking at the written practice problem in front of him. Professors must have an insane amount of patience, you silently think to yourself. 

You sigh. “Let’s put it this way. You and Jeno want to buy the same shirt, but there’s only one left in the right size. So that’s two people who are demanding the one shirt. And the store only has one shirt in its supply. So how would you describe this situation?”

“Oh.” The look of realization flashes across Jaemin’s face as your example easily snaps the puzzle pieces into place for him. “There’s a high demand and low supply. Too many people want the shirt, but there’s not enough shirts.”

“Yes, you got it!” You cheer quietly, mindful of your location at one of the library’s tables. “Now try reading through the practice problems and draw the appropriate supply and demand graphs for each one.”

 “And when I’m done with this, we can take a break, and I’ll teach you how to do makeup. My friends will help,” Jaemin says idly as he reads through the first problem again. 

Your stomach lurches slightly at that, and you hesitate. “Your friends?”

“Yeah, you know, Jeno, Karina, Lia, and Yeonjun. Somi, too, but she’s been busy. I can teach you basic skincare and makeup, but the girls will have to help you with the rest,” he says casually, scrawling down his first answer and the corresponding graph.

You swallow hard, your voice croaking slightly before you hastily clear it. “Are you sure? Do you think they’ll like me?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, doll. You’re like a puppy, and everyone likes those,” Jaemin mumbles idly, eyebrows furrowing as he rereads the second problem.

“A puppy?” You don’t know whether to be offended or not yet.

Oh, you know, just that you’re cute and all,” Jaemin laughs lightly, starting to write down his next answer, and your heart nearly stops in your chest. You force yourself to breathe regularly again.

“Oh, I see,” you start to answer coolly, but stuttering on the last word, internally cursing your tongue at the last stumble. You try to sit calmly and relax for the rest of the tutoring session as Jaemin slowly makes his way through the practice packet, but the knot in your stomach continues to tangle even more, growing ever bigger. Maybe you should just tell Jaemin that lunch didn’t agree with you and cut this meetup short. 

But that means less time spent with Jaemin. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Jaemin is nice, so his friends should be as well, you reason with yourself. There’s no need to be nervous. Even if they’re all incredibly beautiful, hot people with the most unapproachable aura you have ever encountered.

Like honestly, how is someone like Karina even real? Her face could start a modern day equivalent of the Trojan War. She is literally the face blueprint for every main female character you play in your otome games.

Turns out, Karina is even more gorgeous up close. Ridiculously close with the way she’s inches from your face as she swipes on some blush on the apples of your cheeks. You never thought you’d see the resident it girl here for you, standing in the middle of your dorm room, let alone have an actual conversation with her that extended beyond a polite hello when she stops by for Giselle. It’s already been 45 minutes, and your nerves still haven’t calmed down.

“You just need to apply a little bit here and here on both your cheeks,” she instructs you, pointing towards your cheekbones and carefully applying the rosy powder to the same areas. She pauses in the application momentarily so that you can type out a few notes into your phone covering her directions. “You can go heavier if you want the cute sunburn, Sabrina Carpenter look, but if you do too much, you’ll end up looking like my ex.”

“What?” You’re startled, glancing over at her and nearly getting blinded once again by her lethal face card. She laughs lightly, giving you a slight smile. “A clown.” 

“Oh, got it,” you chuckle, albeit nervously, shooting her a quick smile. “I’ll make sure to not do that.”

“Relax, it’s easy. Just a bit of makeup here and there, and you’ll be fine. All I do is some mascara, falsies, and a good lippie when I’m lazy, and I’m out the door in ten minutes,” Lia jumps in, holding several different tubes of lip tints.

“Are you sure? That’s really it?” You ask hesitantly, glancing over the various makeup products strewn over your desk. It looks a lot more complicated than what she had just described.

“Well, maybe you might need a bit more, like concealer and foundation. And some bronzer and heavy contouring. But just stick to the skincare routine and it’ll help lessen it,” Karina sighs, dabbing some highlighter to the tip of your nose before seeing the uncertain look in your eyes, adding hastily, “But it’s so worth it, trust. You’ll look so pretty, and it comes with so many perks. Girl math is knowing you can go out with no money and just your face card.”

“Hey, you’re friends with Yangyang?” Lia pipes up, noticing the photo strip you have pinned on your corkboard, nestled between the various Mystic Messenger Seven fanart and Zorro art prints.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I am. You know him?” You answer, and she nods before leaning in and evenly applying a thin layer of periwinkle tint on your lips. “Yeah, we’re in the same German class. Do you know if he’s seeing anyone?”

Well, you definitely can’t tell her about the raging heart on he has for his best friend, but it’s not like he really is seeing anyone either. You do vaguely remember Yangyang saying Lia was pretty and talented during his quick 5 minute minute class to Jaemin and his friends, so it’s not like he hates her either.

“No, he’s not,” you answer, hoping you made the right choice, and Lia’s face visibly brightens. “Oh, really? That’s great.”

“Okay, we’re done.” Karina announces, stepping back and holding up a mirror for you. “Not bad, right?”

“Oh, wow,” you suck in a breath, nearly gasping in surprise as you peer at the glass. You almost don’t recognize yourself. The contouring lifts up your face, slimming it down, and the blush gives you a pretty pink hue that makes you look sun kissed. Your lower lashes have nearly doubled in length with the mascara, giving you a pretty babydoll look. Karina had perfectly applied a set of falsies for you, framing your eyes delicately, and the shimmery eyeshadow and soft winged eyeliner accentuates your eyes even more. Your lips are the prettiest shade of pink, tinted and glossy.

You can’t believe it is your own reflection staring back at you.

“Now put this outfit on,” Lia says with a knowing smile, placing a shopping bag in your lap. “Jaemin picked it out.”

“Oh, really? Alright,” you manage to mumble out, dazed and still admiring yourself in the hand mirror. Karina laughs softly, nudging Lia before moving towards your door. “We have to get to a sorority meeting now, but I hope you like it, doll. And make sure to practice.”

“I love it,” you say breathlessly, grazing your fingertips against the cool glass, still in disbelief. “And I definitely will practice.”

“Mm, good, text us if you need any help! And send progress pics! We want to see how it’s going,” Lia answers, waving over her shoulder before the two of them exit your dorm. Sitting there alone, you stare at your reflection for a little longer, admiring yourself. You feel so pretty. 

You finally remember the paper bag on your lap, and you immediately dig into it, pulling out a flowy floral sundress. It’s beautiful, and you quickly tug off your jeans and tshirt before going to your drawers to dig around for the appropriate bra for the dress. You manage to find it, snapping on the bra around yourself from the front before twisting it until the clasp is against your back. You hastily push your arms through the straps, tugging on either side until it’s on perfectly. You suck in a quick breath, internally preparing yourself for the battle with the next piece of clothing, a.k.a. your worst enemy: spandex. You’ve familiarized yourself with the awkward jig you have to do around your dorm until you’ve wriggled into the tight elastic enough so that it sits in the correct spot and sucks in all the right places.

At last, you won the war, but you feel sweaty now, flopping back onto your bed for a quick break. You flap your hands in front of your face, thanking whoever decided to invent setting spray. You grab your deodorant spray and douse yourself in a heavy dose of it before picking up the sundress and slipping it over your head. To your great relief, it slides on perfectly, and you quickly shuffle over to the full length mirror hanging on the back of your door. You straighten out the dress and quickly pat down any strand of hair knocked askew from your latest struggles before giving a smile to the mirror.

Dare you say it? You look pretty.

You’ve never looked this pretty before.

You happily take out the dainty gold heart necklace you had carefully tucked into your top desk drawer, struggling for a few seconds before you manage to clasp it around your neck. You quickly pull the pendant towards the front before slipping on the strappy sandals you left next to your desk. You grab the cute purse you bought last week, now packed with the perfect essentials, and give yourself one last once over.

You have nowhere to go, but you decide to take a walk to the dining hall. After all, you’re dressed up so nicely, makeup done so perfectly, you can’t waste it on another night stuffing your face with hot Cheetos and rewatching the first season of Haikyuu!!. Opening your door, you step out and nearly run into someone. 

“Oh, finally, you’re done, doll. I thought you died in there or some…”

His eyes widening in utter shock, his next word dies on the tip of his tongue when Jaemin sees you standing in front of him. His mouth falls open slightly before he quickly closes it to swallow harshly, his throat running dry. He’s never seen you like this before, never imagined that you’d be this pretty. He inhales sharply, stiffening slightly as his eyes rake over your figure, seeing how the dress perfectly accentuates your figure, and settles on your face.

“Jaemin? What are you doing here?” Your eyes widen slightly before your cheeks grow warm when you notice his stunned reaction.

“Um,” he croaks out, voice cracking before he quickly swallows again, silently cursing when puberty decides to make a belated appearance. “Lia texted me that you were done, so I wanted to see how it went. You look… wow.”

Your cheeks heat up even further, and you laugh a little nervously, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “R-really? It’s not too much?”

“No!” He immediately blurts out before his cheeks flush carmine. “I—I mean, you look really good. You should dress like this more often.”

You can’t stop the smile spreading across your face, and Jaemin’s heart flip flops in his chest. “Really? Thank you, I will then.”

“Of course, really. I picked the dress myself after all,” He tries to joke before hastily clearing his throat. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

“Oh, no, I don’t. I was just going to go to the dining hall and grab some food,” you answer awkwardly, shifting your purse over your shoulder slightly and tightening your fingers around its strap.

“Let me take you out for dinner.” Jaemin blurts out, a little high pitched, mentally facepalming at how he sounds. “I mean, we can go over some of the harder problems in that packet since I probably need more studying anyway, and I’ll teach you a couple more dating tricks.”

“Sure, okay, that sounds good.” You give him a wider beam, and Jaemin feels his heart beat a little faster. Maybe you don’t need that much teaching from him after all. Seems like you’re a quick learner.

v. life is plastic, it’s fantastic!

“The only thing you’re fucking is stupid.”

“Shut the hell up, Yeonjun. At least I’m not sticking my dick in crazy.”

You watch the light argument going on between Jeno and Yeonjun in amusement. You and Jaemin had just finished your ninth tutoring session two hours ago, and you think he’s getting on track to actually scoring a decent grade for the next midterm. You were initially going to head towards Lana and Moon’s dorm for your weekly anime show marathon, but Jaemin insisted that you stop by the Alpha Sigma Psi house for a small party. Giselle and Karina are both part of that house, so you figured it couldn’t hurt to make a quick appearance. Good thing you spent some time touching up your makeup before today’s tutoring session.

“Hey, doll! Join the photo,” Jaemin calls out to you, gesturing you towards the area he and the rest of his friends are standing. You see another really pretty girl—Minjeong, was it?—standing on the side, holding up a phone and preparing to take the picture.

“Oh, no, it’s okay, I can just take the photo instead,” you laugh awkwardly, extending your hand out towards Minjeong, but Jeno gently nudges you forward, “No way, you never take pics with us. Just one, come on, Y/N.”

“Yeah, join us!” Jaemin says brightly, tugging you towards him and you stumble slightly, falling forward into his chest. You quickly catch yourself, hands suddenly pressed against his chest, and the blood rushes to your face.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you start to babble, trying to push yourself away before Jaemin quickly wraps his arm around your waist. “Nope, you’re staying here, it’s just a few pics, please, doll?”

“I—I mean, I don’t really—”

You start to say before Minjeong’s voice cuts through the air. “Okay, I’m taking it in five seconds now. So get ready and pose or be ready to live with the consequences on Insta forever.” 

Everyone immediately shuffles around, and you’re squeezed even tighter against Jaemin, and you just know that he can feel your heart pounding rapidly against his chest.

“Smile, doll,” Jaemin laughs gently, squeezing your hip lightly and you inhale sharply at that, your heart rate spiking and increasing exponentially. You muster up a few shaky smiles as the flash starts to go off.

After a few more pictures, you manage to untangle yourself from the group and hurriedly go towards Minjeong. “I can take the pictures, you should join in.”

She immediately brightens up at that, giving you a kilowatt smile as she hands you the phone and slips into your original position in between Jaemin and Karina. “Oh, thanks, Y/N.”

You wait a few moments for everyone to get readjusted before you begin to snap some photos, having already mastered this from the previous hang outs you’ve joined and knowing how to take the best angles for everyone, including all the 0.5 zoom out ones. After taking some additional group and solo photos for the girls, you’re finally free of your duties. Your eyes widen when you check the time on your phone, and you hurriedly make your way over to Jaemin.

“Hey, I need to get going now. I have to get to Lana and Moon’s dorm, so I’ll see you later,” you say quickly, already beginning to brush past him as the realization sets in that it’s been over an hour when you told your friends that you would only be fifteen minutes late.

“Wait, what? Hey, hold on, doll.” Jaemin reaches out to you, but you slip past him, calling over your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m late!”

He strides over, soon matching your pace as you speed walk back to the freshman dormitories. “Can’t you slow down a little bit? It’s not like you all haven’t seen these episodes before, plus we watched a few of them together after our last tutoring session.”

“Yeah, but I’m over an hour late,” you stress, slightly frazzled now as you hurriedly type out an apology to send to the group chat.

“Just breathe, okay? You’ll be fine. They’re your friends. They should understand,” Jaemin reassures you, grabbing your hand and you freeze slightly. He notices your stop and teases lightly, “I said slow down, not stop. What’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing,” you stammer out a little too quickly, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. He’s holding your hand. Na Jaemin is hand in hand with you, fingers intertwined. You almost want to pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming.

“Well, alright then, come on, let me walk you back,” Jaemin laughs before tugging you along. “You can help me pick out which pictures to post on Insta along the way, too, yeah?”

“Oh, sure,” you say breathlessly, your heart rate quickening to an embarrassing speed when he squeezes your hand gently, and you nesrly trip over your own feet.

“Perfect, so what about this one?” He holds up his phone to show you the picture you had taken for the group earlier, and you falter slightly. Why are you feeling a little disappointed with his choice?

Jaemin notices your hesitation and says a little softly, “I know you’re a private person. So I thought you’d prefer if I posted the group photo you took. You always take the best pictures for me, too. You know my good side the best. And it’d be weird if Hyuck saw, too, right? But did you want the other photo? I mean, if you really want it, I can..?”

“No!” You hurriedly say to reassure him, squeezing his hand lightly. “No, you’re right. I don’t want my picture out there. And um, yeah, that definitely wouldn’t be good if Hyuck saw.”

Jaemin gives you a relieved smile. “Yeah, exactly. You’re not upset, right, doll? We still have that fun pic of us and our homemade pizzas from earlier that I posted on my finsta. I didn’t know making pizzas would be that easy.”

“Of course not, don’t worry about it,” you laugh softly, continuing to walk back to the freshman dormitories, and Jaemin swings your joined hands between the two of you freely.

“Mm, I’m getting free cooking and tutoring lessons in exchange for dating tips. Two for the price of one is quite the good deal for me, right?” Jaemin teases lightly, and you let out another laugh.

“You’re right, it is. You better step up your game then.”

“Oh, just you wait, you’ll get dating tips and a boyfriend, so we’ll be even,” Jaemin chuckles softly, squeezing your hand, and the butterflies erupt in your stomach once again, and you muster up the courage to say something a little more teasing.

“Is that a guarantee?”

“Well, you have a demand, and I must supply, right?”

“…I don’t think that’s how it quite goes, Jaemin. Maybe you need a few more tutoring sessions.”

“All I hear is that you want to spend more time with me,” Jaemin laughs, giving you the prettiest smile, and your cheeks warm up even more, heart stuttering in your chest. Speechless, you let him continue on, his chattering filling the air as you listen with quiet content, your hand securely tucked in his for the remainder of the walk back.

vi. you can brush my hair.

Jaemin sits on the edge of his chair across from you at the table in the dorm common area, anxiously tapping his fingers against the flat surface. You are down to the last page of the mock exam packet, carefully going over his work with a red pen. You made minimal marks on the papers, a stark contrast to the very first practice exam he had worked on near the start of your tutoring. At that point in time, he didn’t even get to the end of the exam.

“Amazing.”

You say in awe, scanning through the last problem Jaemin had completed before tallying up his final score and calculating his results. “I can’t believe it. You got an 87.”

“No fucking way,” Jaemin is wide eyed, staring at you in disbelief, and you give him a wide smile, sliding the packet over to him, so that he can look over the exam and notes you’ve written for the problems he missed. 

“Yes fucking way.”

“Holy shit, this is insane,” Jaemin breathes out, carefully reading through each page, and to his utter amazement, he understands every note and explanation you had added next to each incorrect question. He looks up at you, beaming, “I really got a B+?”

“You did,” you confirm, smiling back at him. “And who knows? It might become an A if the exam gets curved.”

“Oh my god, I owe you my life,” Jaemin chuckles, staring down at the graded exam in front of him, still in disbelief. “Seriously, doll, thank you so much.”

“Oh, of course, anytime,” you laugh sheepishly, twisting the rings adorning your fingers around nervously before averting your attention elsewhere, standing up to go towards the adjacent communal kitchen and carrying your filled tote bag with you. “A—Anyway, I brought some things to celebrate a job well done so far.”

“And how did you know I would’ve done well? What if I completely bombed that exam?” Jaemin teases you, standing up and following after you.

“I don’t know, I guess I just believed in you,” you stutter out, cheeks warming up as you set down your tote bag on the counter, unable to look him in the eyes, and he freezes, mulling over your words silently.

You believe in him? Someone who’s a hopeless cause? He honestly didn’t even believe in himself, he thinks to himself, his chest constricting uncomfortably, a foreign feeling making its entrance known to him, constricting around his heart. He inhales sharply, shoving it away with an easy going smile. “Is that so? Well, thanks, Y/N. And what are we doing now?”

“Making pancakes,” you answer, busying yourself with pulling out the ingredients from your tote bag. “You need to be well fed before the midterm. Your brain needs food. And the class is at 8 am, and neither of us are not morning people, so this is as good as it’s gonna get.”

“Pancakes?” Jaemin echoes after you, glancing at the various items strewn across the counter’s surface. “Does it really take this many ingredients? Isn’t it just the box mix and water?”

“That’s the short cut way. We’re making pancakes from scratch,” you laugh softly, taking out a mixing bowl and whisk along with the measuring cups and spoons. 

“But why? It’s so much easier the other way.” Jaemin whines softly, and you chuckle lightly. “Trust me, it’s worth the effort.”

You hand the one cup measuring utensil and bowl to Jaemin and nudge him towards the flour. “Help me measure out two cups of flour.”

“Alright,” he sighs, opening the bag of flour and carefully scooping out the first cup, scraping off any excess before dumping it into the bowl before repeating the process. “What next?”

“Four tablespoons of sugar,” you answer, handing him the sugar and appropriate measuring utensil before working on measuring four teaspoons of baking powder and a quarter of a teaspoon of baking soda. You pour those to the mixing bowl as Jaemin quietly measures the sugar and adds it in as well before waiting for your next instructions. You quickly drop in half of a teaspoon of salt before pushing the bowl towards him. “Now whisk this together gently, please.”

Jaemin busies himself with combining the dry ingredients as you take out half a stick of butter from the fridge (The one labeled with your name, of course. You’re no food thief, unlike someone who’s been stealing other people’s leftover takeout). You microwave it to get four tablespoons of melted butter before making your way to Jaemin’s side.

“Okay, now make a well in the center of it,” you say, and Jaemin clumsily makes an indent in the dry mixture before looking towards you for approval.

“Perfect, now add in two teaspoons of vanilla extract and crack the egg into it there,” you instruct him, and he obediently follows your directions. You measure out one and three quarters cups of milk and add it to the well before also pouring in the melted butter.

“Do I just whisk it together now?” Jaemin asks, picking up the whisk again, and you nod.

“Yes, mix it all together. It’s fine if there’s a few lumps, but it should be smooth overall.” Your eyes trail over his face, and you stifle a small laugh. “You got a little something on your cheek.”

“What?” Jaemin looks up, pausing in his whisking and you can’t help but giggle, staring at the flour dusting his cheek. “There’s flour on your face.”

“Oh, really? Can you wipe it off for me?” Jaemin laughs softly, attempting to brush at it with his shoulder but failing to reach that high.

“Oh, s-sure,” you stammer slightly, your hand quivering slightly as you outstretch your fingers and gingerly brush your fingertips against the apple of his cheek. His sun kissed skin is warm beneath your fingertips, and your breath hitches in your throat before you gently wipe away the remaining residue. You can feel his gaze searing into your face, but you refuse to look him directly in the eyes.

“There, all done,” you murmur, hastily pulling away and taking a step back. Jaemin lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in. He clears his throat, setting down the bowl. “I think this is all done, too.”

“Oh, great, that’s great,” you say, immediately focusing on the bowl before carrying it with you towards the stove, turning it on. “Let’s set this to medium-low heat. And I’ll add some butter to the pan, so the pancake won’t stick.”

Jaemin hands you the leftover butter and pan for you to set onto the stove. You use the spatula to move around a pat of butter, coating the pan nicely. Once the stove is ready and the butter starts to sizzle slightly, you pour a quarter cup of the batter onto the pan, expertly flicking your wrist to rotate the pan and cause the batter to form a perfect circle. You pull out a small container of blueberries, sprinkling some of them on top.

“Woah.” Jaemin watches you, impressed. “Teach me how to do that.”

“This? It’s easy,” you laugh softly, checking on the pancake until its underside is golden and small bubbles start to form on the top. You quickly move the pan, flipping the pancake onto its other side. “You can try making the next one.”

“Yeah? Will you wrap your arms around me and give me the one on one experience?” Jaemin jokes lightheartedly, and you nearly choke. “I mean—I don’t think that's completely necessary.”

“Relax, doll, I’m just kidding,” he laughs softly, nudging you gently, and you let out an awkward laugh. “Oh, totally. Just a joke.”

Once the pancake is golden on both sides, you carefully slide it onto a plate Jaemin pulled out from one of the cabinets. Your heart rate finally returns to its normal state, and you manage to say calmly, “Maple syrup and whipped cream are in the fridge.” 

Jaemin takes out the aforementioned toppings, generously slathering on some butter before pouring the syrup and spraying whipped cream onto the pancake. He cuts out a small piece and quickly spears it onto his fork before taking the bite, nearly moaning in delight at the first taste.

“Holy crap, this is so fucking good.”

“My secret recipe,” you say proudly as you start to pour the batter for a second pancake, evenly spreading it on the pan. “Was it worth the effort?”

“Yes.” Jaemin swallows, almost immediately going for another bite before he gazes at you, giving you a genuine smile, and your heart rate again increases to an alarming speed.

“Definitely worth it.”

vii. undress me everywhere.

You finish the midterm in forty five minutes, being the first one to turn in your completed exam. This  means you finished twenty minutes before the class ends and consequently, either failed it spectucularly or knocked it out of the park. You really hope it’s the latter.

Despite being rather preoccupied with other matters a.k.a. your suddenly thriving social life, you managed to cram in some studying here and there because your mother would absolutely kill you if you lost your provost scholarship. Gifted kid burnout? Who’s that? You never heard of her before (Just kidding, you’ve had plenty of breakdowns and cry fests over calculating bond values and stock prices).

Now outside of the classroom in one of the open study alcoves, you drop your Longchamp bag on the empty chair next to you before tugging at the back of your jean skirt before carefully sitting down. You make sure to readjust your bra straps, tucking them under the ruched fabric of your white shirt. Tapping your fingers against the scratched surface of the table, you briefly admire the shimmery gold ombré manicure adorning your nails that Jaemin had chosen last week. You pull out a compact from the inner side pocket of your purse, carefully checking your makeup to ensure it is still in pristine condition before quickly swiping in another layer of your Buxom plumping lip gloss in the best shade: fir royale.

The flurry of text messages pinging across your screen quickly catches your attention, and you tuck your mirror and tube of lip gloss away before scrolling through them, letting out a quiet scoff at Karina’s latest melodramatic outburst in the clout chasers group chat:

[ 11:46 a.m. ] karebear ✨: guys, gals, and yuckjun

[ 11:46 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: what tf ??? why are you calling me out

[ 11:46 a.m. ] karebear ✨: shut up or else I won’t make out with you anymore

[ 11:46 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: 🤐

[ 11:46 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: are you that touch starved bro

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: anyway as i was saying

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: this skank in my marketing class has been copying my outfits and posting them on her insta and she has like 10k followers now

[ 11:47 a.m. ] princess lia 👑: time to tear a bitch apart

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: like look at this shit

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: sent {10 images.jpeg}

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: my followers are gonna rip her apart

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: she’s downgrading my brand

[ 11:47 a.m. ] princess lia 👑: dw girl i’ll do a response video so my followers will see too

[ 11:48 a.m. ] princess lia 👑: she can’t get away with this

[ 11:48 a.m. ] karebear ✨: loved a message

[ 11:48 a.m. ] somi amor 💋: idk… they’re similar styles but that’s what popular rn

[ 11:48 a.m. ] karebear ✨: it’s gonna be song jia 2.0 watergate

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: just say you’re broke and go

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: if she’s gonna plagiarize me, she better do it right like bffr walmart version 

[ 11:49 a.m. ] somi amor 💋: you have proof they’re fake? 

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: i mean fake bitch fake bags right

[ 11:49 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: idk she’s kinda hot

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: shut up jen be like your hairline and fall back

[ 11:49 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: HELLO ?! back me up yeonjun

[ 11:50 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: um

[ 11:50 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: 🤐

[ 11:51 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: if you wanna be fucking stupid then knock yourself out

[ 11:51 a.m. ] karebear ✨: loved a message

[ 11:51 a.m. ] karebear ✨: hey my place tonight jun 🥰

[ 11:51 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: are you gonna listen to your own advice yj

[ 11:51 a.m. ] karebear ✨: excuse me ????

[ 11:51 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: 🤐🤐🤐

[ 11:51 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: proverbs 26:11

“Hey, doll, what’s so funny?” 

Jaemin appears next to you, and you let out a startled squeak, jumping in your seat, and he laughs, quickly placing his hands on your shoulders to steady you. You look at him wide eyed for a few seconds, his question not yet registering in your mind, and he waits patiently for your answer.

“Oh!” Your eyes light up, and he smiles at the endearing sight. “Just Karina ranting about something and Yeonjun being whipped.”

“Ah, so the usual?” He reaches for your bag, slinging it over his shoulder, and you stand up, pulling your skirt down once more to ensure you’re covered. The two of you start to make your way out of the Langley Hall. 

“Yep. How was the midterm for you?”

He brightens up, opening the door for you and you thank him. “It wasn’t too bad at all! I actually understood like 90% of the questions and for the others, I was able to narrow down the answers between two choices, so 50/50 chance, fingers crossed I picked the right one.”

You beam when you hear that, and he returns the smile, eyes crinkling in the corners, and you pretend to wipe away faux tears. “I feel like a proud mom.”

“I think my mom actually will be proud,” he says, eyes scanning the cars parked on the nearby street before finding his. He grabs your hand, tugging you along. “C’mon, we gotta go celebrate that our misery is over until finals week. Plus, we gotta prep you when you talk to Hyuck.”

“Wait, what?” You abruptly stop short, and he nearly loses his grip on your hand. “When am I talking to him?”

“This Saturday. You’re coming with me to the Nu Chi party, right?”

“Since when? I don’t go to parties,” you protest, “They’re too loud and noisy, and beer is gross and—”

“You went to the Alpha Sigma one a few weeks ago though?” Jaemin interrupts, and you shake your head. “That was a small party though. This one is the party of the semester. What if I embarrassed myself in front of the entire school?”

“Parties are the prime time for meeting people and getting to know them because alcohol makes everyone friendlier and people don’t stay within their friend groups,” Jaemin interrupts. “Do you really believe that you’ll get him to like you by, I don’t know, one day, your eyes will meet across the classroom, and he’ll fall madly in love with you? This isn’t one of your fanfics, Y/N.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, letting go of his hand on purpose, and he frowns, bottom lip jutting out in a pout before reaching out for your hand again. You swiftly dodge him, and he whines, quickly snatching your hand up and lacing your and his fingers together.

“I hope this isn’t how you’ll treat him on your date. Thank god we’re doing a trial run right now.”

“A trial run?” you echo him, and he nods, flashing you that favorite smile of his that never fails to make you weak in the knees.

“Well, we have to make sure your first date goes perfectly so there will be a second, right? Practice makes perfect,” he says matter-of-factly, and you nod slowly in agreement. The logic makes sense somehow. 

“Okay, so where would you pick for a first date?”

“Maybe a cute cafe? Oh, there’s that one place: Cloudy with a Chance of Boba!” You brighten up, thinking about that boba shop’s menu you spent a good half hour scrolling through on Yelp last night.

“Mm, the most popular place right now is that ramen place on the end of Maisie Street. It’d probably be best to go there,” he muses, tugging you along via your intertwined hands. You nearly stumble in your heeled sandals but swiftly catch yourself.

“O-oh, okay, so are we going there now?”

“Nah, let’s do the ice cream place next door to it. Not really feeling noodles at the moment.” He stops to look over his shoulder at you, and you run into his back, causing him to let go before quickly reaching out and grabbing your arms to steady you. “Woah, be careful.”

“Sorry.” You’re flustered, your cheeks now growing hotter than a furnace. Jaemin reaches forward, his finger carefully swiping at the smudged lip gloss on the corner of your lip. “Where’s your lip gloss? You should reapply this.”

Eyes widening, he then shifts and peers behind him, craning his neck to the side in all attempts to look at the back of his shirt. “There’s not a mark on my shirt, right?” 

You quickly rub off any shimmery residue. “It’s fine, your shirt is dark blue, so you can’t see it anymore.” 

“Oh, good. Wait, where’s your lip gloss?” You fish through your bag, pulling out the tube and handing it to Jaemin. He uncaps it, giving you the lower half of the gloss before gently grasping your chin with one hand. He leans forward and tilts your head towards him, his eyes focused on your lips. The butterflies in your stomach erupt in an instant. You try so hard to stand still, fidgeting with one of the rings on your finger behind your back. 

Jaemin’s face is so close to yours that you can count every single long dark eyelash that frames his pretty eyes. His lips are the prettiest shade of carmine, and you wonder what it’s like to be Aphrodite’s favorite child. How lucky you are to already be basking in the attention of her favorite; imagine how much luckier he is to be her favorite.

The beautiful boy in front of you carefully applies the gloss for you, fully concentrating on coating your lips with a pretty sheen once again. When he glances up, he’s almost blown away by the way you’re looking at him. 

You look stunning, pretty as a picture in VOGUE magazine. Not quite the cover page, but you’re nearly there. A swell of pride runs through his veins, like an artist admiring his latest masterpiece on show in MOMA.

“Anyway,” he clears his throat, handing back to you the lip gloss. “Let’s go. We’re almost there.”

“Alright.” You follow behind him like a lost puppy, and he reaches back to grab your hand and interlace your fingers. Your heart nearly skips a beat as your cheeks grow warmer once again, and for a split second, you wonder if he feels the same way.

“We’re here,” Jaemin announces, letting go of your hand to open the shop’s door, the bell above it jingling faintly as he gestures for you to go inside.

You enter the pretty shop, marveling the clean and simple interior with circular white tables and matching garden iron chairs surrounding each one. There’s bright greenery and plants decorating the edges of the shop, and the wall is covered in mismatched frames of paintings and pictures in various sizes and colors. The cheeky neon sign displayed near the front read, “It’s not gonna lick itself!”, and you laugh softly when you see it. The display of different colorful ice creams at the front are absolutely enticing, and you’re already struggling to decide which two flavors to pick.

You finally decide on a Vietnamese coffee and honeycomb swirl, accepting it from the cashier before you start to pull out your wallet. Before you can even pull out your card, Jaemin taps his phone against the screen, paying for both yours and his.

“Never pay on the first date,” he chides you lightly, picking up his ice cream. “Always let the guy pay for the first date.”

“Oh, but shouldn’t we at least split it?” You ask sheepishly, walking towards a table near the back that he gestures towards. He follows behind you, picking up some spoons and napkins.

“If the guy is so broke that he can’t pay $7 for your ice cream, then he shouldn’t be out dating anyway. He should be getting a job,” Jaemin retorts, tugging your chair out for you before sitting across from you and handing you a spoon and napkin. “Don’t you watch that Shera lady? Sprinkle, sprinkle and all that jazz. Maybe you can split for the future dates, but if the guy has any basic decency, he would pay for the first one.”

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind,” you sigh, taking a hefty scoop of your ice cream and having the first bite. It’s delicious, and you make a mental note to buy a pint and bring back to your dorm to share with Giselle later.

The two of you continue to discuss various appropriate topics to broach on a first date (“Hey Jaemin, you like cheese? My favorite’s Gouda.” “… Please do not ask that.”). You quickly jot down bullet points in your Notes app, your fingers flying over the screen as Jaemin instructs you on good conversational starters and body language.

“So you just need to touch him on his upper forearm and then pull away. Stoke his ego and say he’s funny or some shit like that. At least you don’t have to force yourself to laugh with him though because Hyuck is naturally funny anyway. And he’s good at keeping up the conversation and a people person, so it won’t be awkward even for your first date,” Jaemin continues as you nod, rapidly typing what he says.

“And at the end of the date, touch his shoulder again, glance down at his lips for a brief second before making eye contact. If he’s bold enough, he’ll go for the first kiss. But then just immediately smile and say you had a great time before he can lean in. After that, he won’t stop thinking about that moment, and it’ll drive him crazy, and he’ll be texting you for a second date within the next day.”

“Mm, okay, I think I got it,” you mumble absentmindedly, engrossed in writing down the last few bullet points and Jaemin leans over to take a closer look at your phone, his eyes flitting over the screen.

“So for the last point, do I have to deny the first kiss then? Smile and walk away before he leans in and…” 

You start to ask until you look up, and your breath hitches in your throat at the close proximity, your and his noses almost brushing. Jaemin is so pretty, even prettier when you can count the few freckles dotting his face, can clearly see the mesmerizing golden flecks dotting his irises, can admire the way his lips look so soft and curve into the picture perfect smile. Your heart thumps wildly, nearly falling onto the floor along with your jaw when you glance up from staring at his lips and see that he’s already looking back at you with the softest expression on his face.

“You don’t have to,” Jaemin murmurs, and your heart stutters in your chest as he moves in closer, his lashes brushing against your cheek, and suddenly, his lips are pressed against yours. They’re pink and soft and slot perfectly against yours in a way that has your heart skipping beats and stomach doing cartwheels.

Eyes widening, you freeze up, letting out a quiet squeak of surprise, before he pulls away, giving you an amused smile. The lingering warmth on your lips makes your cheeks heat up, and you have to break eye contact, stammering over your words as you gently graze your fingers over your lips in wonderment.

Jaemin laughs softly as he leans back in his chair. “We’ll have to work on this too then. You’re kissing like it’s a Park Shinhye kdrama.”

You’re still dazed, cheeks growing even warmer as you avoid his gaze, fiddling with the loose thread on the hem of your skirt. “That was my first kiss.”

Jaemin pauses at the realization, his cheeks flushing slightly before he clears his throat, giving you a half smile and a light chuckle, “Oh, really? That’s cute, doll. Well, I’ll teach you some tips, so you’ll be better at it by the time you ask Hyuck out. At least you got a decent first kiss, right? No big deal.”

“Yeah, no big deal,” you echo softly, your heart still racing at breakneck speed. You pretend to focus on the remnants of your ice cream in the bottom of your paper cup, fingers gripping around the container tightly.

Jaemin was right.

You don’t think you’ll be able to stop thinking about this moment anytime soon.

viii. come on, barbie, let’s go party!

“Are you sure you wanna do this?”

Moon asks worriedly, helping you with your makeup as you sit, perched on the edge of your bed. She uncaps your eyeliner as Lana fusses with your shirt, smoothing out any of the wrinkles. “Actually, I can’t do it. You do it, Yang. You’re an expert at this.”

“Alright, give it to me.” Yangyang comes over, grabbing the eyeliner and expertly draws on the wing above your right eye. “Years of cosplay have finally come in handy. Although, I still can’t believe you’re putting in all this effort for Jaemin.”

“I need to look pretty. He usually does my makeup for me, but he’s busy right now,” you mumble, twisting the ring around your finger anxiously. “It’s my first time going to a party. I can’t embarrass him when he’s a ten.”

“Yeah, in rupees,” Yangyang scoffs, and Lana frowns at you, stopping in her tracks. “Don't talk about yourself like that. You’re already pretty, and if anything, you should be embarrassed to be seen with that slime ball. I can’t believe he doesn’t even have the decency to pick you up. Why are you the one going to his place?”

“He has some frat meeting right now,” you answer, glancing down at your newly manicured nails. The pearl color shimmers under the light, and you can’t help but admire it even more. You wish they were a little shorter, but they really do look quite pretty.

“What meeting? We’re in the same frat. Also, hold still,” Yangyang huffs, holding your chin as he draws on the left wing over your eye. “We need them to look like twins, not cousins twice removed.”

“I don’t know, he just said there was some meeting,” you mumble, holding perfectly still until he finally finishes. “Maybe it was a one on one meeting or something, who knows?”

“I still think he’s shady,” Lana grumbles, and Moon nods as well. “Yeah, like the first kiss thing?”

“It’s no big deal,” you wave your hand dismissively, hopping off of your bed and taking a look at yourself in your mirror. “Better to get it over with, right? I mean, imagine being this old and not having your first kiss yet.”

“Is that what he said to you?” Moon huffs, affronted, and you shift in your place uncomfortably. “No, of course not. It’s just—everyone gets their first kiss when they’re like fourteen or fifteen, right?”

“That’s not the point,” Lana says indignantly, tucking your hair behind your ear carefully. “You wanted it to be special, didn’t you? It just feels like… he took something away from you.”

“He didn’t. I wanted this,” you answer loudly, ignoring the way your stomach flip flops as you try not to think back to that moment. He kissed you, he really does like you back, he might have not said it out loud, but he knows how much it means to you (Wouldn’t he?).

“Okay, as long as you’re happy,” Moon gives in, and she and Lana exchange a worried look that goes unnoticed by you. But what can they do? They can continue to try convincing you, but it will never work when it falls on deaf ears. 

“I am,” you insist, avoiding your friends’ gazes and staring at yourself back in the mirror. Moon attempts to lift the mood again, offering you a tentative smile in the reflection. “This whole thing is like a whole emotional rollercoaster, and Yangyang is definitely not tall enough to ride.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m literally almost six foot tall,” Yangyang shoots back, and you laugh, relaxing once more as you watch your friends start to bicker again.

“Listen, you can’t be delusional and short. Pick a struggle.” Moon counters, and Lana agrees, handing you your phone to tuck into your pocket. “She’s right. You carry yourself with the confidence of a much taller man.”

You smile fondly as the bickering between your friends continues. You miss them, you realize with a jolting pang of regret, you haven’t been hanging out with them as often as you used to. In fact, the majority of your weeks are spent with Jaemin and his friends.

It’s your first cold dose of reality, and you’re hit with a startling truth. You haven’t been a very good friend lately.

—

Lana drove you to the Nu Chi Theta house, and you felt like a kindergartener being dropped for her first day of school. Your face feels hot as a wave of embarrassment rushes over you as you notice the amount of glances you receive from the insanely pretty girls and boys already on the front lawn and streaming out from the front door. You quickly exit the vehicle, hurriedly waving good bye over your shoulder before making your way into the house, almost tripping over the raised walkway.

You wander around the house, searching for Jaemin and quickly sidestepping a through the couples and other students dancing around, nearly getting bowled over by someone you recognize from your school’s football team. He gives you a quick once over before offering a half apology, eyes set on another girl on the other side of the room. You take a deep breath before pushing your way into the next room, finally spotting Jaemin with his friends, minus Jeno and Somi, by the staircase and letting out a sigh of relief.

“Hey,” you say breathlessly, squeezing through two couples busily making out in the doorway and wincing slightly when you jostle both of them, causing them to give you dirty looks before resuming their activities. 

“Oh, hi, Y/N!” Karina says brightly, giving you a perfect smile and reaching over to squeeze your arm gently. “We didn’t think you’d make it.”

“My first frat party? Of course, I wouldn’t miss it,” you laugh, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear nervously before fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Jaemin gives you a small smile, and you return it with a slightly shaky one, your eyes flickering towards the fading pink, glossy lip mark staining the collar of his shirt. The color is much too dark to be Jaemin’s, and your stomach churns slightly.

“You look so pretty, Y/N, I love the confidence,” Lia chimes in, gently pinching the fabric of your skirt between her manicured fingers. “I love this, you’ll have to let me borrow it sometime.”

“Oh, of course! You can borrow it anytime,” you agree quickly, flashing her a slightly forced smile before glancing over at Jaemin again, unsure what to do.

“Where do you shop?” Yeonjun asks, glancing over at your outfit. “The shirt is nice, too.”

“Oh my god, yes, we have to go shopping together sometime, and you’ll have to show me all the good places,” Karina cuts in, nudging you gently before letting out a sigh, looking over at Lia. “God, I’ve been feeling so fat lately, like freshman twenty might be getting to me.”

“No, same, I’ve been extending my gym sessions and doing Pilates,” Lia huffs softly, and you remain silent, switching your weight around on each foot, glancing over at Jaemin helplessly.

“I need another drink. You coming, Y/N?” Jaemin finally speaks up before brushing past Yeonjun, and you hurriedly follow behind him, careful not to fall behind or get swept away. He quickly pushes through to the kitchen, finding a spot next to the counter covered in various bottles of cheap alcohol and stacks of red solo cups dispersed in between.

“You want one?” Jaemin asks, extending a shot of vodka he just poured out towards you, and you shake your head before he gives a wry smile. “You sure? It’ll help with the nerves. You were shaking back there.”

Your cheeks grow warm. “You noticed?”

“Everybody noticed,” he snorted, handing you the cup, and you wince slightly before holding your nose and downing it in one go. “Give me another then.”

“Atta girl,” Jaemin hands you another shot and you take that one just as quickly, making a face that causes him to smile subconsciously. As he pours himself a cup of beer, he spots Donghyuck by the pool out back, and a knot settles in his stomach uncomfortably. He almost doesn’t want to tell you, and he doesn’t know why. It’s just because he worked so hard to make you look this good, and his loudmouth friend gets to reap all the benefits, he tells himself, taking a swig of his drink, Donghyuck doesn’t know how lucky he is.

Ignoring all the stop signs and whistles going off in his head, he gestures towards Donghyuck outside, clenching the red cup in his hand a little tighter than normal. “There’s your chance. Gotta do it before the alcohol wears off.”

“Oh, um, actually, I wanted to talk to you,” you stammer out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear again (It’s one of your habits when you’re nervous, and he thinks it might be his favorite). He pushes down the growing knot in his stomach.

“We’ll talk later, yeah? You can’t miss this,” Jaemin insists before nudging you in the direction of the pool outside despite your soft protests.

“W-wait, I  jus—” you say desperately, but Jaemin merely waves you off before disappearing back into the party inside. You let out a sigh, shoulders sagging slightly. You wouldn’t want to disappoint him after all the effort he put in these past four weeks.

You’ll tell him later.

—

“Oh? Where’s your little Barbie doll, Jaemin?” Karina simpers as she lazily taps her pretty manicured nails against the half filled red solo cup in her other hand when Jaemin returns to his original spot. “Have you gotten bored of playing with her yet?”

“It’s not like that,” Jaemin answers hotly, “She’s… fun. She makes me laugh.”

“How? By looking at her?” Yeonjun snorts, chugging his own cup before crinkling it in his fist. Jaemin wants to throw up. “We thought you just did this because you’ve been having a dry spell and were bored. Where is she anyway?

 “She’s talking to Hyuck right now,” Jaemin mumbles meekly, shoulders slightly hunched over as he stares into the depths of his own solo cup.

“Really? I mean, is she even his type?” Lia asks skeptically, straightening up in her spot to see if she can spot you or Donghyuck anywhere. “If anything, I thought her friend—the pretty English major one—would be his type. How is she anyone’s type?”

“Hey, he turned her from a four to a solid eight. She might even go up half a point once you introduce her to an exercise and diet plan.” Karina says offhandedly, raising her cup towards him in mock salute before taking a sip.

“Yeah, how are you going to do that? It’s not like you can even sugarcoat it for her because then she’d eat it too,” Yeonjun throws out with a smirk, and Jaemin feels sick to his stomach, the nauseating feeling growing exponentially and gnawing at him as his friend continues, “I mean she’s probably already on the seafood diet because she sees any food and just eats it. How can you even stand her, Jae? The way she just follows you around like a puppy. Isn’t it annoying?”

“God, I know, the way she basically chases after us like a lap dog is so pathetic. At least she takes good insta pics for us though, so she’s somewhat useful. But we had that one really good group photo at that last party, and she totally ruined the picture. You can’t even crop her out because she had to stand next to you, Jae,” Lia complains, rolling her eyes, and Karina laughs, taking out her phone and scrolling through her photos.

“Oh my god, I know  the exact photo you’re talking about. It’s this one, right? She practically threw herself into your arms,” She flashes her screen towards the group, and Jaemin wants to shrink and crawl into a hole somewhere and die. Was it the best photo of you? No. Was it the worst? Maybe close to it. You’re standing sideways and still taking up more space in the photo than the others, and the flash photography did not do any favors for you. You stand out even worse than Will Smith in the sunflower costume meme. He cringes inwardly, noting the way your skirt had rolled up and you’re smiling a little too widely. He makes a mental note to help you practice  better, more flattering poses later on.

“You know that famous baby hippo? Moo Deng? I think we found her twin from the future,” Yeonjun barks out a laugh, reaching over and zooming in on you as Karina smirks before putting away her phone. Lia giggles and glances over at Jaemin, scrutinizing his reaction before a sly expression makes an appearance on her face, saying coyly, “You have a crush on her, don’t you?”

Jaemin flushes, embarrassment coating his cheeks, and he immediately snaps, “Shut up, I might be lonely, but I’m not despera—”

“Oh, Y/N!” Lia says loudly, effectively cutting Jaemin short. “How did it go? Are you and Hyuck gonna be the new couple on campus?”

Immediately, his heart drops even further to his stomach, and Jaemin whirls around to see you standing a few feet away. Did Lia know you were there?  How long were you standing there? Did you hear them? Did you hear every horrible thing they said about you?

“Oh, Donghyuck said he wasn’t interested, but he was nice about it,” you say, offering a vague smile in Jaemin’s direction, and he nearly breathes a sigh of relief as his heart starts to slow back down to its normal rate. A part of him is glad that Donghyuck rejected you, and he nearly misses what you say next, too caught up in this unfamiliar feeling.

“I think I’m going to head back to my dorm. I’m a little tired. Thank you for inviting me.”

With that, you turn away and walk off, but something still doesn’t feel right to Jaemin. It’s a split second decision but for once, he puts his heart over his mind and chases after you, ignoring the increasing whispers from his friends and their eyes searing into his back.

ix. raise your hand if you have ever been personally victimized by na jaemin.

Jaemin is right on your heels the entire time you walk back to your dorm. All he receives is stony silence from you that he fills with babbling nonsense, asking you what’s wrong to no avail. When you finally enter your dorm, you turn to him at last, and he perks up. However, the two words that come out of your mouth have him deflating faster than Yangyang’s ego when Alice called him a shitty kisser with too much saliva (“You’re supposed to make me wet down there, not up here. Honestly, dude, if I wanted to drown myself, I would’ve jumped into the ocean.”).

“We’re done.”

You decide to bite the bullet.

After freeing your feet from their pointy death contraptions, you peel off each layer of clothing one by one, unzipping the mini skirt and kicking it away before tugging at the spandex, unleashing the breath you’ve been holding in since 8 a.m. to fit into it. There’s still indents marking the dips in your waist and your thighs, a lasting reminder that stays like an embarrassing stain. You fling that abhorrent piece of elastic elsewhere, and it falls near the end of your bed, out of sight behind the pile of textbooks you haven’t touched for the past three days.

“Hold on, what are you talking about? We made so much progress. You wanted to do this,” Jaemin protests, following after you and picking up the discarded garments you threw haphazardly. He waves around the skirt like a white flag. “You wanted to be in the popular crowd, and you got it. You’re this close to dating Hyuck. Yeah, he might’ve said no now, but we’ll come up with a new plan—You can bounce back from this! Why are you quitting now?”

Removing the off-the-shoulder pink top that restricts your arm movement, you quickly slip on an oversized sweater before reaching back and unhooking the strapless bra whose underwire has been digging into your ribs for so many hours, a sigh of relief escaping between your teeth. You toss it onto your chair without another care in the world, and it lands next to the shirt in a heap.

“Because this isn’t me. This isn’t what I like.”

“Of course, it is. This is still you: just new and improved,” he insists, frantically attempting to hand you your discarded shirt and pleather skirt. You ignore them, opting to pull out and put on your favorite pair of stretched out gym shorts from middle school that you had shoved in the back of your closet to make room for all the flashy clothing Jaemin picked out for you. “We’re having fun. You’re popular and pretty now. You’re almost dating Donghyuck. You have everything that everyone wants. You’re the girl the boys want to be with, the girl all the other girls want to be.”

You shake your head, reaching for the packet of makeup wipes near your sink. “It’s not what I want.”

Jaemin scoffs, “Don’t be ridiculous. What are you talking about? This is what you asked me to do.”

You throw him a scathing glare, and he takes a step back. “God, Jaemin, for once in your life, take off the stupid rose colored heart shades, and you’ll finally see all the red flags around you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jaemin asks defensively. He thought everything was going according to plan; he’s going to pass macroeconomics, and you got to talk to Donghyuck and are this close to scoring a date with him. People notice you wherever you go, the two of you receive compliments, his friends like you, everyone likes you.

“I have to pretend to like things I hate and hate the things I like. I have to do things a certain way, act a certain way, pretend this is all effortless. I don’t know if people are being genuine or pretending like I am. I hate this—this fake version of me.” You spit the words out like fuel to a fire, and you stand there in all your blazing glory, ugly uniform shorts and all.

“My thighs keep chafing. My feet have blisters everyday from these boots. This foundation makes me break out even more, and I can’t type up my notes in class or write fast enough because of these nails, and my grades almost took a plunge. I’m basically freezing my tits off out there in a shirt I don’t like. The lashes make my eyes itch, and this skirt is so short that I have to keep pulling it down every five seconds before I end up flashing someone.”

You don’t recognize the girl in your mirror anymore. You pluck off the falsies lining your eyes, scrubbing furiously at the layers of expensive brand name makeup covering your skin.  You wipe off every inch of it until your bare face stares back at you, slightly puffy, blemishes, faded acne scars and all. You feel like you can breathe a little better now.

“Did you really think it’s easy being one of us? Do you think people will notice you if you show up in sweats with Cheetos stains?” Jaemin stares at you incredulously. “This is how it is. I don’t get why you’re throwing it all away like this.”

“And yet, you were all for it when I threw away everything before.”

“Because you asked for it! You asked me to—to make you into someone Donghyuck would date!”

“You don’t get it.” You whirl around on your heels to face him instead of the mirror, and the anger and intensity laced in your voice nearly blows him away. “I like myself the way I am. I never hated myself. I may be insecure about how I look sometimes, but who isn’t? Yeah, I like wearing cherry lip gloss and mascara sometimes. It’s fun trying out new hairstyles and clothes and learning to do better makeup. I like getting dressed up for special occasions. I like doing these things on my own terms. But this? What I’m doing to myself right now? This isn’t the same. Am I supposed to keep up this charade for the rest of my life? If I do eventually go out with Donghyuck, am I gonna have to keep lying to him? To everyone? I want people to like me for me. To actually know me.”

“If this is how you feel, then why would you keep doing this?! If you hate it so much, then why?” He’s frustrated, carding his fingers through his hair as he can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you’re angry over this. You look gorgeous, so what’s the problem?

“Because I liked spending time with you!” you burst out, “I never liked Donghyuck—I liked you. I wanted it to be you. It was fun at first, I did like it at first, but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not. I can’t be friends with someone who’s ashamed of me.”

There’s a jolt in his heart when he hears your confession, but the second jolt comes quickly afterwards at your last words. Denial is the first stage of grief, and he pales at your final declaration. “What are you talking about? This whole thing is so that Dongh—”

“Oh, please. You can drop the act. This isn’t about Donghyuck anymore. This is about you being too embarrassed to be seen with someone who doesn’t fit your aesthetics.” You air quote the last word for emphasis, and his jaw tightens at that. “You’d rather drop dead than go out with a four like me, right?” You smile sardonically at him. “I may be a four on a seafood diet, but my ears work perfectly fine, Jaemin.”

You heard it all, and Jaemin feels like he is going to throw up. All he can do is scramble and grasp for the last remaining straws, protesting vehemently, “I wasn’t the one who said any of that!”

You laugh humorlessly, “Is that supposed to make it better? You’re better than them because you didn’t say it out loud? You didn’t deny it or defend me either, so what’s your point? 

His mouth goes dry, and he opens and shuts it several times. Swallowing harshly, he barely manages to croak out a weak reply. “That’s— I didn’t mean—I only really thought that before I knew you.”

“And that’s just it, isn’t it? You already judged me before you even knew me based on how I look. Even now, you still judge me.” He starts to open his mouth again, but you merely shrug as if you’ve accepted this for all your life, and he closes it meekly, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably, unable to meet your eyes

“That’s okay. I’m used to it. That’s how it is for people like me. I know I’m not someone people fall head over heels for immediately. I’m the one who reaches out to people first. Guys don’t fall over at my feet, wanting to carry my books to class for me. The pretty girls ask me to take their Insta pictures for them. I don’t get free drinks at the bar or invited to all the parties. I’ve never been asked out by a total stranger, and no one writes their number on my cup of coffee,” you say matter-of-factly, a resigned smile on your face, and it has him curling into himself internally, his conscience slowly eating away at him.

“And you know what?” you continue, “That's life. That’s okay because I’m happy with who I am. I like who I am. If I have to give myself up to get Donghyuck or you to like me, then he’s—you—are not the one. I shouldn’t change who I am for a boy—or anyone for that matter.”

“That’s not—We were doing this for you. You wanted… you wanted this makeover. You wanted this.” He’s desperately clutching onto the end of the rope, and you’re holding the scissors to cut it off. You show him another half smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“It stopped being about me. It started being about what you wanted, what you liked, what you wanted me to be. I was your charity case, your little Barbie doll.”

You tilt your head to the side, studying the boy in front of you and he silently squirms under your scrutiny. “Tell me one thing, and be honest. Did you even know I existed before Donghyuck mentioned me as a tutoring option? Before you needed me for a grade booster? Would you have liked me then?”

Would you have liked me then? Your question echoes in his mind, and Jaemin freezes, dropping the clothes in his hands. You know. You know he likes you, and the embarrassment creeps up on him in the form of carmine dusting his ears and cheeks, like spilled wine on white linen.

“There are over one hundred students in the class,” he objects. “Sorry for not fighting my way through all of them to find you and have a crush on you sooner.”

Jaemin seems to not realize that he just confirmed his feelings for you aloud, and perhaps, if he had told you this a few weeks ago, you would have been ecstatic and called up Lana and Moon the second he was out of earshot. But this is now, and you’ve grown exponentially since then.

You give him a wistful smile, and as the dread piles up in the pit of his stomach, he knows this is the start of his downfall (or perhaps, he’s already been falling this entire time). He slipped from the pedestal already long ago, and it’s only a matter of time before he hits rock bottom. The higher the pedestal, the harder the fall from grace.

“I sat in front of you diagonally. You asked me to pass notes to my friend. You know, the girl who sat next to me? Alice? The one you asked out and went on a few dates with at the beginning of the semester?” You state the facts calmly, and his eyes widen at that. “It’s okay. But you must’ve remembered that we were in the same group for a presentation last semester, right?”

Jaemin stays silent, and you have your answer. It’s one you’ve known deep down in your heart all this time, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less. After all, someone can announce they’re going to punch you, you can even see the strike coming to your gut, but simply knowing doesn’t do anything to ease the painful aftermath.

You chuckle humorlessly, fingers uncurling and recurling into fists as your nails press moon shaped crescents into your palms before you look him straight in the eyes. “I don’t fit into your cookie cutter life or match your rose colored Instagram filters. I don’t have the perfect model figure or the perfect face. I don’t look like the girl of your dreams, and I know that it just fucking kills you inside that you fell in love with me.”

Jaemin flinches, curling in on himself when he finally meets your gaze and finally sees the absolute hell fires of fury and repugnance ablaze in your eyes. You know that he loves you, and he’s ashamed that you’re right. You’re absolutely right.

Why is he so afraid of loving you?

He loves how smart you are, how witty you are, how funny you are, how genuine you are, how you understand every obscure Haikyuu!! reference he makes, how you laugh at his jokes, how you dm him the funniest memes on Instagram, how you wear your purple scrunchie around your wrist during every exam for good luck and how you let him borrow it too. He loves how you treat him as more than just a pretty face, how you actually listen to him and make him feel like what he says matters, how you make him feel different—special—like he doesn’t have to compete with all the other Barbies and Kens out there. He’s much too vain, much too superficial, much too selfish, much too proud to admit it out loud, but he’s in love with you, and yet, he can’t bring himself to love every single part of you.

And the truth of that matter is the ugliest of all.

But there are standards that he has to uphold, why can’t you understand this? He lowered his standards for you, and you still couldn’t meet them. You have the personality already, you are this close to being the ideal girl, and well, you both have to make changes. It’s the prince and princess who live happily ever after, not the prince and the pauper, or god forbid, the ogre (No offense, Shrek). This is real life, and society has unspoken rules. He sacrificed so much for you, he put his reputation on the line, so why couldn’t you do this for him? After all, love always has some sacrifices.

Right?

But when Jaemin looks at you now, there’s everything, but love staring back at him. You look at him like he’s a repulsive piece of chewed gum stubbornly stuck to the bottom of your Steve Madden heel. It strikes a nerve and completely eats him to the core, but he pulls himself upright because nobody talks to him like that, nobody looks at him like that, certainly not someone like you. He invented you, he made you into the next Princess Mia, the next Cady Heron, the next Serena van der Woodsen, and this is how you show your gratitude?

“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me. You act like I’m the first person to judge first based on looks. Everyone does it. Am I supposed to strike up a conversation with every girl on the off chance she’s everything I want? Do you think anyone would fall for you immediately when you looked like that?  The saying is ‘love at first sight’, unless you’re one to believe in the whole ‘love is blind’ idea, which you clearly do,” Jaemin snaps, sneering as he eyes you up and down. His heart and mind are screaming, crying, begging for him to stop, but his pride dropkicks him headfirst into the hole he dug for himself, raging for him to get the upper hand again.

“How is it my fault for not knowing you’re the whole package when the wrapping doesn’t match the contents?”

The unfiltered words slip out of his mouth, and he immediately regrets it, closing his eyes, but it’s too late. He sees the instant look of devastation that appears on your face, and it hits him like a boxer’s punch to the chest. He starts to backtrack to no avail. You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.

“I am never going to be enough for you, am I?” you whisper, your breaths stuttering in your chest as your initial sarcasm turns into quiet truths now that eat away at him. “I’m either too much or too little. There’s always going to be something you’ll want to change, something you want to fix.”

“Y/N… I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. It was an accident. I just—”

Jaemin can’t continue on, his voice trailing off as he doesn’t know what to say. He wants to keep apologizing, he’ll do anything it takes to take back what he just said, but the damage has already been dealt. He’s always known he’s an asshole, sure, but this is beyond anything he’s ever said or done in the past. He just secured the seat of honor in Dante's ninth circle of hell, and there’s no return ticket.

“You just what? You thought it would be okay to say anything to my face just because it’s not up to your standards?”

Jaemin’s face pales. “N-no, I—this isn’t how it's supposed to go, I just—It just slipped out, can we start over?” 

A public rejection from any boy or girl would hurt infinitely less than the words Jaemin spat in your face. The things that his friends said before within earshot? You could take it because you couldn’t care less about them at the end of the day. But this? This was coming from someone you trusted, someone you care about, someone you lov—No, you don’t even want to think about that.

Jaemin never loved you. He never even liked you. The harsh reality slaps you like a cold shower in the middle of a winter night, and you want to curl up into a ball under your covers and cry until you fall asleep.

And yet, you will not let him humiliate you any longer. The spell has been broken. Cinderella is back to her rags, and her Prince Charming is nowhere to be found. She’s stuck as a toad that’ll never change. Eyes watering, you inhale sharply, laughing quietly in disbelief before you straighten up and your face hardens.

“Are you actually listening to yourself? You think we can start over? You treat people like they’re disposable, like they’re nothing, and once they don’t match with your theme of the week, you toss them even faster than the time it takes for you to choose an outfit.” Your chest is heaving, and the tears threaten to fall, but you push on, swallowing the lump in your throat. He reaches out for you, and you take a step back, shaking your head.

“You can’t hurt people and expect them to just let it go. I get it, I know I’m not the thinnest, or the nicest, or the funniest, or the smartest, or the prettiest. I know that I’m hard to love. I get it, Jaemin. I’ve always known that.”

You choke on the last sentence, swallowing hard to stifle the hiccup that bubbles up in your throat. “But that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit.”

Rapidly blinking back your tears, you march over to your door and throw it open with such force that the doorknob could have left a dent in the wall. You don’t want to cry, you’ve always been an angry crier, and you desperately want the tears to stop. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry and hearing your confession. He doesn’t deserve any of that. Jaemin doesn’t deserve your tears, and he certainly doesn’t deserve your love.

“Get out.”

Jaemin stares at you, mouth agape like a fish on land. You gesture heatedly towards the outside, choking slightly. “What are you waiting for? I said get out.”

“Y/N, I—”

“Am I a joke to you?” you quietly ask, and his eyes widen.

“No! No, Y/N, you’re not, I jus—”

A single tear manages to escape despite your best, frustrated efforts, and Jaemin instinctively reaches out for you. You swat his hand away, angrily swiping away the stray droplet with the sleeve of your sweater. His heart wrenches in his chest as his hand dangles limply by his side. You’re crying because of him. He caused that, and he feels like the biggest piece of shit in the world.

You refuse to let any more fall, glaring at him through the unshed tears and entirely disgusted with the boy standing in front of you. “Don’t touch me. I’m not crying for you. I’m crying because I’m so angry I wasted all my time on someone who never cared about me.”

That’s not true—I love you, he wants to say, but his mouth refuses to form the words because his pride won’t loosen its grip on his heart. He loves you, he’s in love with you, why can’t you see that?

You steel yourself, taking one shaky breath before looking pointedly at the door and repeating yourself, “Get out. Leave me alone.”

Numbly, he makes his way over to the door, ears ringing. You glower at him, the intensity searing and digging into the side of his face. When he stands outside of your dorm, he struggles to turn around and face you helplessly. Your eyes soften for a moment, and it shoves the dagger deeper into his chest when he recognizes that look. It’s the same look he wore when he first saw you, and the shame that emerges nearly chokes him. The mixture of pity and disappointment painted across your face revolts him entirely, and he feels like he’s going to vomit. Jaemin is utterly humiliated.

Your gaze intensifies once more when you stand up to your full height, stare unwavering and chin raised up. Gripping the doorframe tightly, you drive the final words into his heart like a stake.

“I am too good for you, Jaemin, and I will never love someone like you. I deserve better.”

And for a split second, you almost convinced yourself when you said that.

You shut the door in his face.

Jaemin calls your name through the door several times, desperation ringing clear in his tone, but it falls on deaf ears. Apologies are a fool’s best friend, and you’d be a fool yourself to believe them. Holding your breath, you wait until you hear his footsteps echo down the hallway, until the solitude greets you like an old friend. And at last, you drop the facade and let yourself cry. Back pressed against the door and head bowed, you finally let go until all the tears are gone and you’re gasping for breath, the quiet hiccups and sobs bursting forth and breaking the silence in the same way he broke your heart over and over again.

You love him.

There’s no one to blame, but yourself. In the end, it’s all your fault that you were in this mess. How can you be so stupid? You can put lipstick on a pig, but it would still be a pig. Built up insecurities will bubble up to the surface no matter how much mascara and blush you apply. The warning signs were all there in flashing technicolor, but they were all tied up with shiny ribbons and deceiving perfect smiles. They lit up your usual drab life of blacks, whites, and grays, and you were blinded by the glitz and glamor— blinded by him. It is hard to see the red flags and stop signs through the rose colored Instagram filters. You trusted him and gave him your heart when you should’ve known it’d end like this. 

You got greedy and tried to steal the spotlight, and you received it, front and center. You are the joke. You are the punchline, the comedic relief, the center stage of a slapstick comedy show. This is what you get for going off script.

Because you love him.

You were supposed to continue to delude yourself into thinking that you don’t want to find love, that you enjoy being on your own, that you enjoy being single, that you are perfectly content with never experiencing romance instead of facing the cold harsh reality head on: no one sees you as desirable or dateable. And when your friends tell you that you’re not missing out on anything with dating, you were supposed to nod and agree, when secretly, you desperately wish you can experience that for yourself instead of living vicariously through your friends’ love lives or the 3 a.m. scrollings through cheesy romance fanfiction on Tumblr. You’re been fine all these years, haven’t you? You were doing so well living on your own.

But you love him.

It’ll come when you least expect it, that’s what they tell you every time, but what are you to do when you can’t help but expect it your whole life? What are you to do when you so desperately want to know what it feels like to be loved in that way? God, when is it going to be your turn? When is it your turn to daydream about someone and know that they’re daydreaming about you too? When is it your turn to have someone walk you home? When is it your turn to hold hands with someone? When is it your turn to feel the giddy butterflies and experience a good night kiss? When is it your turn to be kissed in the rain? When is it your turn to experience the romance you can only dream about?

How much longer will you have to be patient? How much longer do you have to wait, living in denial over the soul crushing reality of it all? How many more stars do you need to wish upon until you learn to accept the painstaking truth? You weren’t meant to be loved in this lifetime.

God, you love him.

It’s embarrassing when it shouldn’t be. You just want to be touched by hands that care, loved by a heart that beats for you, desired by someone who thinks you are enough. It’s the way you would give up ten years of your life in a heartbeat to experience being the prettiest girl in the room just once and have people look at you. The overwhelming shame washes over you when you never had your first kiss until now with a boy who never cared about you, never went on a date before, never had a boyfriend before, and you have to lie and say it’s by choice when it’s not. It’s not. You have so much love to give, you have so much space in your life to share, you have so much time to spend with that special someone, but the grains of the hourglass are spent waiting and longing for a stranger who will never come. 

The thought of it all just makes you sick. It makes you sick that you wish so terribly that someone would just look in your direction for once. For once, you want to be looked at in that way like all the female protagonists experience in the movies. And you know your value shouldn’t be based on desire and objectification, you absolutely know it, but it still hurts when you go out with your friends and you’re the one dancing alone or sitting back and watching the purses. You’re the one standing there by yourself, while every single one of your pretty friends is being approached by someone. It still hurts so fucking bad when you try to put yourself out there, but guys have already moved past you or don’t even acknowledge your existence simply because of your face or a number on a scale. And when he came into your life and gave you one measly ounce of attention, you ran with it when you should have run away. It’s absolutely exhausting, leaving you out of breath and on the verge of throwing up, to chase after someone who never even looked at you, to chase after their attention, praying to god that they’ll one day make you feel like you are worth it, that you’ll finally feel some sort of value.

Forget ever being loved, you weren’t even wanted.

There is no such thing as happily ever after’s for the extras. Girls like you don’t get to star in love stories. Why did you ever think it would end differently?

You love him.

And he ruined you. Even worse, you let him.

You wish you never met Na Jaemin.

x. i can’t go out tonight. *fake coughs* i’m sick.

You would like to give a formal apology to Bella Swan for not understanding why she was so depressed over Edward leaving her for six months and making fun of her. In your defense, you were like nine years old when the movie came out, and you were more interested in Barbies back then (Plus, you were Team Jacob because you wanted a pet dog at the time).

You didn’t even go through a break up, but it sure as hell feels like one.

You probably would continue to wallow in your misery for weeks, clutching onto the only two men you could ever trust in your entire life: Ben and Jerry’s while watching every iconic 90s and early 2000s rom-coms on repeat if it weren’t for your best friends. But enough is enough, and you get that you shouldn’t be spending weeks crying over a boy who hasn’t even spent one second thinking about you. It’s just hard to take that first step back up again when you feel like you tripped and fell all the way down to rock bottom.

And so, you finally let your friends into your shared dorm room, and you definitely do not miss the poorly disguised look of disgust and shock when they see the giant mess on your side of the room (You’re very grateful that Giselle has been staying at her boyfriend’s place for weeks now). It’s an intervention at this point—one that you desperately need, and you know it.

“Okay, give it to me straight,” you sniffle, still wrapped up in your comforter like a giant burrito and clutching onto the ice cream carton like a lifeline. You know that your friends will just rip it off like a bandage, and you have mentally prepared yourself for it. Your voice comes out wobbly still from the tears, and you hate it. “I know I was stupid for letting a guy walk all over me like that. I know if any of you were in this situation, I’d tell you that you’re better than that and to get over him, but it’s just so hard to do it.”

“He who shall not be named is a scumbag, and I’m gonna kill him the next time I see him,” Lana states, pursing her lips together. “I hope he has a bad hair day every single day because I know he’d be screaming, crying, throwing up if he could never get a perfect selfie ever again.”

You choke back a sob, giving her a watery smile. “That would destroy him.”

“Good. Fuck him. Metaphorically, not literally. Why should you care if you are the girl of his dreams or not? Be the girl of your dreams. You’re gorgeous, smart, and funny and he’s just some guy who still doesn’t know how to use the correct ‘your’ in an Instagram caption.”

You can write down a thousand and one reasons why he was the most horrendous, most awful, most vile person to ever grace your life. But at the end of the day, why does it matter? What good would it do? You still love him, and that’s the worst pill to swallow.

“I just—I’m having a hard time believing that.”

“Y/N, if you believed that Jaemin wasn’t a shitbag for the past four weeks and all the time before that in his life, then you can believe in yourself right now for two minutes and listen to me,” Lana says firmly, clutching onto your shoulders and forcing you to look her in the eye as she continues on, “Remember the Barbie movie? He’s just Ken. Ken doesn’t have a good day unless Barbie looks at him.”

“Yeah, like channel your inner Gina Linetti. Listen to Chelsea Peretti. ‘Men used to hunt.’ What’s Jaemin doing? He’s pushing twenty and doing aegyo on camera,” Moon chimes in, and Lana nods furiously in agreement before elbowing Yangyang in his rib not-so-subtly. “Contribute to the conversation, Yang.”

“Hold on, I’m thinking,” Yangyang says, pausing in the middle of your room and placing his hands on his hips.

“Oh congrats, I didn’t know you could do that. But stop because you’re not good at it at all,” Moon says, completely ignoring the dirty look he throws at her immediately. The little exchange brings a small smile to your face and it feels nice to laugh. You’ve forgotten how to do that. You miss your friends. You’re grateful for them for not giving up on you when you already have.

“Come on, let’s go see ‘Crazy Rich Asians.’ It’ll be fun. We can watch Lana fangirl over seeing her favorite actor,” Moon encourages you, and Yangyang nods in agreement. “Yeah, she picked a better man after the Jaehyun fiasco.”

“Oh my god, let it go. I didn’t like him that much,” Lana huffs softly, grabbing one of your spare pillows and launching it square into his face in retaliation, and he lets out out a high pitched shriek that makes you giggle.

“Weren’t you gonna go see it with your best friend, Yang?” You ask, glancing over at him and he shakes his head, a slightly sour expression on his face. “Nah, she’s going with Dejun already.”

“So unfortunately, we’re stuck with him now,” Moon says solemnly as Yangyang immediately throws her a dirty look. The look on his face makes you laugh, and it makes you feel a little better and your heart a little lighter.

You shouldn’t have to beg someone to love you; the right person will never make you beg. The right person would never chip away at you, erasing different parts of you, until you fit their picture perfect mold, until there’s nothing left of you. You would never have to call your friends at 4 am, drunk and crying for their validation, praying to whatever higher being is up there for them to take you back. Your friends have never looked at the scars and freckles dotting your skin and suddenly deemed you as unlovable. Your best friend wouldn’t call you fat and point out every single one of your insecurities. You are not unlovable because you decided to eat a third taco or decided to not wear makeup today or didn’t shave your legs. You may fight with your parents and siblings, but never once have you felt unloved by them. Never once did you have to get on your knees and plead for them to love you back.

You know you are worthy of love because your friends and family make it look so easy. They have shown you what love is really like time and time again. You’ve been a shitty friend these past few months, prioritizing a boy over the ones who really matter. They’ve been so patient with you this entire time, and with an open heart, you realize that it is time you finally start properly loving them and yourself too.

You are loved.

xi. that’s so not fetch!

Jaemin slinks out of the lecture hall, noting the dirty looks your friends have sent him from the other side of the room. He’s been standing outside of the classroom before the session starts for the past few weeks in hopes of catching you, looking like a complete creep (and definitely feeling like one).  But what’s he to do when you wouldn’t return any of his texts or calls? It’s humiliating, and he feels smaller than an ant under a microscope.

He pretends to leave class early, staking out in the bathroom across from the classroom. Counting down the minutes, he sees the first wave of students pouring out from the classrooms and finally spots you. His heart jumps to his throat, and his hands begin to grow clammy.

You’re back to wearing your loose jeans and basic t-shirts, your favorite purple scrunchie wrapped around your wrist and an old Jansport backpack slung over your shoulder, decorated with pins of all those familiar characters from his favorite anime. Your face is bare, aside from tinted lip balm, and you’re smiling. You’re laughing at something your friend next to you says, and with a sinking heart, Jaemin realizes that perhaps maybe you are pretty in the slightest way.

He finds himself taking one step towards you, then another, maneuvering around the other students rushing to leave. He’s getting closer and closer, if he called out your name, you would hear him. But you wouldn’t stop for him this time. He knows that.

Jaemin is getting closer, just a few more steps until he can just stretch his hand out and tap your shoulder, and his heart is pounding so hard in his chest until a pretty manicured hand grabs his upper arm lightly.

“Jaemin? What are you doing here?” 

He pauses, turning around and seeing Somi staring back at him in surprise as she continues, “I thought you don’t have any classes at this time.”

“Yeah, I—” he hesitates, glancing over at your retreating figure and Somi follows his gaze, her eyes softening as she lets go of his arm.

“Oh, were you waiting for her? Sorry about that,” she apologizes, pulling away and he shakes his head, shrinking back. Maybe it was for the better that you got away. It’s probably a sign from the universe telling him to let it go.

“No, it’s okay. She doesn’t want to talk to me anyway,” Jaemin admits at last, starting to slink off, and Somi furrows her eyebrows, a puzzled expression gracing her face as she hurries slightly to catch up with him, matching his pace. He exits the building, crushing the graded economics midterm with a red 89 circled at the top in his fist and shoving it haphazardly into the side pocket of his backpack usually reserved for his water bottle.

“What are you talking about? The two of you are practically glued at the hip. She adores you,” she laughs softly, tilting her head slightly as she glances over at him. He ignores her look, continuing on his way off of campus and towards his safe haven: a small dog friendly boba shop snug in between a bookstore and a 24 hour laundromat he frequents more often than he likes to admit.

 “I honestly thought you’d ask her out at some point.”

Jaemin winces at that, her light response rubbing salt into his open wounds, stitches torn and bleeding, and he spits out the next words defensively, his pride rearing its ugly head again. “No way. I never liked her like that. She’s not my type at all. Have you seen her?”

“What is wrong with you?” Somi frowns at him, stopping in her tracks, and he halts, unable to look at her and throwing out a dismissive “What?” In her direction.

“Why are you talking about her like that? I thought you liked her,” she answers, staring at him in disbelief, and he curls his fingers into fists, gripping tightly as a multitude of conflicting emotions war inside of him. He starts to walk again, barely glancing over at Somi.

“She was just my tutor. I passed my midterm, so I don’t need to be around her anymore.” He responds weakly, uncurling and recurling his fingers into fists as he desperately tries to stay calm.

It was so much easier to pretend around his other friends. Aside from Jeno, they always took his words at face value, never one to pry. And Jeno would never push him, knowing that he would eventually come to him at his own pace. But Somi? He’s forgotten about how she can be after she’s been so busy with her schedule, missing out from the majority of hang outs for her social work and events, and their class schedules never overlapped. She can spot a lie a mile away. She actually cares. In a way, she reminds him of you, and he can’t bear to meet her gaze anymore.

“She’s your friend,” Somi retorts, following him into the boba shop, briefly stopping to pet the adorable Samoyed wagging its tail near the entrance. “You spent more time with her than any of us, except maybe Jeno. And you weren’t just studying in the library. I’ve seen her on your finsta and close friend stories.”

“Okay, and now she’s not. She’s not my friend anymore,” Jaemin answers sharply, punching his order into the self service machine. “It happens. People stop being friends. So back off, Somi.”

“Jeez, what is your problem?” she snaps back, following him towards the back, settling on a pillow in one of the comfortable nooks converted into a small seating area across from him. “I caught you following Y/N, and now you say you’re not friends?”

Jaemin hesitates, fiddling with one of the decorative pillows in his lap. “We got into an argument.”

“Yeah, but friends fight. You can apologize, right?”

Jaemin is silent.

Somi stares at him, and he wants to curl into himself. It’s the very same look you gave him before you shut the door in his face, and he feels the bile in his throat already. Her voice is quiet. “Jaemin, what did you do?”

“I—,” he whispers, breaking off and clenching his fists. He is already replaying that moment in his head, seeing the look of utter devastation on your face, and he wants to run away. The ugly truth is front and center, and he is unable to ignore it any longer.

 “I fucked up, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” Jaemin bursts out, burying his face in his hands and unable to face his friend. He closes his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. “I said some shitty things to her, some really fucked up stuff.”

“Like fucked up as in messy drunk thoughts or fucked up, fucked up?” Somi says softly, hesitantly, as if she doesn’t want to believe her friend is the worst of the worst. Jaemin’s heart sinks even lower than rock bottom as he continues to hang his head low.

“I…” Jaemin’s voice is less than a whisper as he finally confesses the horrible truth to someone for the first time. His voice cracks as he recalls every single disgusting thing and insecurity he flung back into your face.

“I said that it would be stupid for her to believe in love at first sight, that she wasn’t up to my standards, that it’s her fault, that I was ashamed of her, ashamed that I even liked her because of the way she looked.”

The silence is deafening, and Jaemin feels the same wave of humiliation wash over him as it did on that very night. Somi is speechless, and he can’t bear to look at her, one hundred percent knowing that there would be a raw look of utter disgust and horror on her face because that is the exact way he would look at himself. He sits there in silence as the guilt and shame pile up even higher; he is past the point of wallowing in self pity, already drowning and gasping for breath.

“Jaemin… she was your friend,” she murmurs, gazing at him, mouth agape as the shock finally settles in, and he flinches slightly at the past tense. “She actually cared about you. She made you happy.”

“I know,” he says softly.

“She was the best thing that ever happened to you.” Somi continues quietly.

Jaemin sucks in a sharp breath, biting his bottom lip. “I know.”

“Then why?”

Because I was stupid, he thinks silently, Because I am a coward. Because she embarrassed me. She made me feel small. She made me feel insignificant. She made me look at myself in the mirror, and for the first time in my life, I absolutely hated what I saw staring back at me.

“I don’t know,” Jaemin whispers, staring down at his lap in resignation and unable to swallow the truth.

He knows.

xii. you can’t sit with us.

You continue to avoid Jaemin in Macroeconomics, choosing to slip into class at the very last minute. You see him waiting in front of the classroom every session for the past three weeks, searching for you, but you opt to go to the professor’s office hours every time before class and end up walking with her to class as she answers your questions about the assigned readings and problems. Alice saves you a seat in the front row, and you never told her but you’re grateful when you realize she must have asked her other friends to sit around the two of you, effectively barricading Jaemin from any attempt at sitting next to you. Finals week comes and goes with  the winter break following suit, and you think he has finally given up on any attempt at reaching you.

But life has an unfortunate penchant for bringing up things—or people—you wish to forget when you least expect it. It was supposed to be an ordinary Thursday four weeks into the spring semester, and you’re exiting your last class of the day, tucking your laptop into the cute tote bag you bought from the New York Strands bookstore as you walk across campus.

“Y/N.” Jaemin appears in front of you, and suddenly, all the air in your lungs seem to have been sucked out. It’s almost embarrassing how two months of self progress can be toppled over as easily as a house of cards. Your brain says to hate him, but one glance at him still has you weak in the knees. You take a deep breath, counting to three before walking around and ignoring him entirely.

“Please, can we just talk for five minutes? I’m sorry.” He desperately reaches out for you, and you can see some people starting to take note of the two of you, their gazes on your back.

“Leave me alone, Jaemin.” You continue to walk away, hiking up the strap of your bag higher over your shoulder, desperately trying to quell the stupid colony of butterflies in your stomach that have laid dormant for so long. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Please, just five minutes—three minutes—and I’ll leave you alone forever. Listen to me,” he says in a quiet tone. It was an order, a request, and a plea all at once.

You pause, scrutinizing him for a few moments before grabbing his arm and dragging him away from prying eyes. You stop on the secluded side of the building underneath the magnolia trees before dropping his hand. “You have two minutes. Talk.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Good to know you’re self aware. You’re finally experiencing some character growth.”

Jaemin grimaces at your stony expression. “Okay, that was deserved. I truly am sorry, Y/N. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have lashed out at you, and I’m an asshole who took advantage of you. You do deserve better. You deserve someone better than me. But I want to be that person. You make me a better person.”

You stay quiet, and Jaemin fidgets around. “Is that… is that okay? I know it’s selfish of me, but—”

“You’re right, that is selfish of you.”

Jaemin falls silent at that, face flushing before he speaks up meekly, “Can’t we start over? Try again?”

In that moment, you truly pity the boy in front of you. The lost expression on his face tells it all as he desperately clutches onto whatever lifeline you’re willing to toss out. But he’s causing you to drown, and you need to cut the cord and put yourself first for once. Maybe you can change him. But you can’t do this to yourself again.

You take a deep breath and pinch yourself, reminding yourself that this is the same boy who broke your heart because it wasn’t pretty enough for him. “There is no trying again. You never tried, and I’m done trying for you. Jaemin, you don’t love me. You’ve never felt that way towards me.”

“Yes, I have! I do! I really do,” he protests, and you shake your head, taking a step back. He starts to take one step forward towards you and hesitates, staying in his original spot. Your gaze is cold, and he finds himself wishing that you would look at him in the way you used to.

“You love the idea of me: the one you built up in your head,” you say, tone growing quiet. “But I’m nothing like her. To some degree, I think I might be the first genuine connection you ever made with a girl. You liked the way I felt about you and how I acted for you. I changed everything about myself for you, I would’ve followed you anywhere, I would’ve done anything for you, and you took advantage of that. You took advantage of the fact that I love you.”

You may not truly know what love is, but you know it’s something he never gave you. It stings, knowing that even after all of this, you still secretly, desperately long for the type of love you know will always be out of your reach. A part of you wants to believe him, but this time, you listen to your mind instead of your heart.

Jaemin’s head shoots up at your confession, eyes widening in belated realization, and you curl your lips inward, biting your lower lip. You love him. You love him, he now knows, and to your surprise, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. Three steps forward and two steps back is still one step in the right direction.

“One day, you’re gonna find someone who’s finally enough for you—someone who’s worth making pancakes for,” you say wistfully, pausing for a minute before gathering the courage to continue.

“And you’re gonna fall in love with them. Like really love them. You’re gonna love them so much that you’ll try your hardest to be enough for them. You’re gonna try so fucking hard to be the one they want, the one they love, that you’ll do anything for them. You’ll even change yourself for better—or for worse.” You grip the strap of your tote bag even tighter, a dull pang in your heart making its appearance, and Jaemin winces, lowering his eyes as the regret and guilt pools into his stomach.

“But sometimes, it won’t be enough. It’s not going to be enough,” you continue, swallowing hard. “And it’ll never be enough for them. You’re willing to move heaven and earth for them, but they won’t notice. Or maybe they don’t even care. No matter how hard you try to love them, it won’t matter unless they want you. Unless they choose you.  And it’ll hurt like hell. It’ll hurt every single time you see them, every time you hear them, every time you think of them.”

Your voice softens, shaking slightly as you take in a wavering breath before pushing forward. “And when it hurts, you’re going to think of me. You’re going to remember me because that’s when you’ll understand what it feels like. That’s when you’ll know how I felt. How it feels to not be enough. How it feels to have your heart ripped to shreds by someone you care about—someone you love.”

His heart drops, and you give him a wistful smile before it quickly disappears, and your expression schools into one of indifference. You continue to walk forward confidently, brushing past his frozen figure. You see your friends waiting for you on the other side of the lawn, and you look over your shoulder at Jaemin one last time, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself.

“And you know what? I hope to fucking god it hurts you as much as you hurt me.”

The world continues to spin, you keep moving forward, and he remains rooted in his spot, unable to look away from you. There are so many Barbies and Kens out there, so many more Na Jaemins who will come into your life and sweep you off your feet, and you’ll make them feel special and more than a pretty face, he belatedly realizes, he’s disposable and so easily replaceable, but there’s only ever going to be one you. 

As he watches you walk away, Jaemin thinks he is starting to understand.

EPILOGUE.

Life likes to play cruel jokes, and the senior year gives you the most hilarious one of all in the form of your final capstone project. Last you heard about Jaemin, he had switched his major to pre med (which was ironic to you since that field would require him to care about other people, which he clearly proved to be incapable of). However, your university decided to implement a cross collaboration between the various schools, and it’s just your luck that you find yourself paired up with Jaemin. Giving him a tight smile as you take a seat across from him in the library room he reserved, you take out your laptop.

Jaemin had asked earlier if you wanted to request a new assigned partner, but you highly doubt any professor would switch up a pairing on account of one person being guilty of being the greatest asshole to ever exist (Plus, you’ll come across many guys like him in your field of work, so you might as well start building up your tolerance now).

It is the final time you will meet up with him before the big presentation, and the two of you work together in silence, only breaking it to discuss the project topic. It is neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, settled somewhere in between—kind of like a purgatory for relationships. You’ve stopped thinking about him a while ago already, but seeing someone who once was a part of your life always brings back memories, whether wanted or not.

“I met someone.”

Jaemin breaks the ice, unable to hold it back any longer. He feels like he’s going to explode if he doesn't get this off of his chest. There is a slight pause in your writing before you resume, but he knows you are listening.

“I met her after… after our…” He trails off. He doesn’t know what to call it—what the two of you had. An almost relationship. “… After us.”

You continue to write, taking note of several points to be discussed based on your slide. He puts down his pen, clasping his hands together as he fiddles with one of the rings wrapped around his fingers.

“I made her blueberry pancakes.”

You sharply inhale for a brief millisecond before you jot down another bullet point. One, two, three, four, five bullet points until you can breathe normally again. You’re twenty two years old, but you suddenly feel like you’re eighteen again. You sometimes loathed your younger self, but because of her, you learned so many things (Forgiveness is one of them).

“I don’t know what else to do, except keep making her pancakes.” Jaemin sits there idly for a few moments, entirely unaware of your inner turmoil, before he laughs derisively, “She’s in love with my best friend. She never told me, but I can just tell.”

There’s another pause from him. Staring down at his notebook, he swallows hard, the lump in his throat never fully going away. His voice cracks as he whispers out his question:

“Does it ever stop hurting?”

Your pen stops moving across the paper, dropping to the side. There’s a black scribble from where it fell. You still continue to look at the index card, focusing on the college ruled lines until they become a mosaic blur of blue, black, and white.

“Eventually.”

Your tone is impassive, and his head snaps up at your reply. You pick up the pen again. You don’t look at him, but you know he’s staring at you, an unrecognizable expression in his eyes.

Perhaps, it would have been different if you had met the present day him back then instead. Perhaps, it would’ve worked out. Maybe he would have made another girl fall in love with him, broke her heart, and come out unscathed. Or maybe he would still be the same as his past self if he hadn’t met you. It’s the butterfly effect; you don’t know what would have happened, but you don’t care. Not anymore.

By now, you have mourned him for longer than you have loved him.

“Y/N, you were never hard to love. I was bad at loving. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

And this time, you know he truly means it—that Jaemin truly understands. It is good that he has learned and tried to become a better person. You just wish it didn’t have to come at the expense of you.

Your first love teaches you what love isn’t.

The threads holding the pieces of your heart together these past three years have always been so fragile. Just one tug at the heart strings, and everything unravels so easily, like grains of sand slipping through your fingers. You’ve nearly forgotten what heartbreak feels like, the old wounds opening up for a long forgotten friend that you had prayed you would never meet again.

You discover that it hurts even more the second time around.

“I wish I fell in love with you back then.”

His tone is forlorn, a silent resolution wrapped in happenstance. You continue to write down more notes for your part of the presentation, the soft scritches of your pen against paper almost masking your quiet response, and Jaemin nearly misses it.

“So did I.”

[littlexdeaths]

i get off - e.m.

perv eddie munson x perv fem reader

you don’t know that i know, you watch me every night…

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: voyeurism, masturbation (f & m), eddie is lil peeping tom but reader loves it, they both steal each other’s shit, oral (f receiving), fingering, cum eating, choking, spanking, dirty talk, mean!dom eddie, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, squirting, they both are nasty freaks

a/n: this is another edit and repost from my old account. it’s one of my favorite fics so i had to move it over here. enjoy freaks xx. 😘

based on i get off by halestorm

word count: 3.8k

you’re sprawled out on your bed, fingers running through your drenched folds. clad in only an oversized iron maiden t-shirt and a pair of knee high socks, you’re everything he’s ever wanted. plucked directly out of one of his dirtiest fantasies.

you can feel his eyes on you, you always do.

not that he realizes that.

and while you’ve lived barely ten feet apart for your entire lives, eddie has never had the courage to make a move.

so he settles for this— watching you through his bedroom window.

fantasizing that the delicate fingers now dipping inside you were his. and the fist currently wrapped around his thick cock was smaller, softer. yours.

the first time he witnessed you like this it was a complete accident.

you had been pent up all day, and didn’t think to shut your bedroom curtains before slipping your hand inside your panties. the bedside lamp bathing your room in a muted yellow hue. eddie had been working on a new song, guitar perched on his lap.

he was frustrated with trying to string together this new melody, glancing up in utter annoyance. that is until his gaze drifted towards the window, his eyes widened and his cock stirred in his jeans.

you looked beautiful, you always did. however this was the most vulnerable state you could be in, and the fact that he got to witness it— made you all the more enchanting to him.

he’d be embarrassed to admit that watching you touch yourself made him cum in his jeans, completely untouched. and that first time you were none the wiser, not noticing the dark eyes that were trailing your figure. but once eddie had gotten a taste he couldn’t get enough.

eagerly waiting by his bedroom window to enjoy his new favorite nightly program… you.

you weren’t sure exactly how long he’d been doing it for, but the night you caught him in the act, it awoke something within you. while eddie made sure to keep his bedroom light off, the moonlight was not on his side that night.

it had filled his room in a soft white glow, highlighting his pale skin. his naked form perched on the edge of his unmade bed, stroking his shaft in tandem with each thrust of your fingers.

his moans are what gave him away, as your eyes were squeezed shut in pleasure. but he’d gotten a little too carried away, thinking about how pretty your pussy would look stuffed full with his cock.

the thin walls of the trailer doing nothing to conceal his sounds. when your eyes finally opened, you were met with the most glorious sight you’ve ever seen.

eddie fucking himself into his fist, his head tilted back as he spilled all over his ringed fingers. the image alone had your eyes rolling back, body shaking as your orgasm ripped through you. one of the most intense you’ve ever had, and from that night on you always kept your curtains open.

desperately chasing that euphoric feeling again.

while you didn’t always see him, you knew he was there. the feeling of his greedy eyes on you was enough to have you cumming harder than you ever have in your entire life. your whimpers were muffled but still rang through his ears as he’d make a mess all over his hand and chest.

different images of you— on your knees, on top of him, taking you from behind, or his favorite with his head buried between your thighs.

it was slowly driving him crazy, and he couldn’t seem to get enough of you. he needed more. he quickly found himself staring out his window any chance he could. gazing longingly as you floated around your bedroom.

he watched you change, get ready for the day, study with your college textbooks. your pencil resting in between your teeth. eddie knew it was wrong, that if you ever found out you would be revolted.

if he only knew it was the exact opposite, and how you couldn’t finish without feeling his eyes on you. but you also needed more, desperate to feel his weight on top of you. his mouth trailing over your skin, his cock stretching you out perfectly.

so you became bolder, going as far as to leave your bedroom window open. letting your moans drift through the night air, teasing him further.

and when you noticed some of your panties had gone missing it only heightened your desire for him. knowing he was in your room, touching your things… holding your panties up to his nose as he came all over himself.

grunts of your name escaped his pouted lips, and his left yours as you drenched your fingers. but it wasn’t enough.

you needed him.

fueled by your insatiable lust you found yourself gazing at him more and more. as he sat on his messy floor, playing guitar or working on a dnd campaign. focusing intently on his fingers, and imagining just how good they would feel inside you.

but your favorite was when he was fresh out of the shower. his dark curls were drenched, water dripping down his inked chest. the patch of hair that disappeared beneath his towel drove you absolutely mad.

so you took a play out of his own book, sneaking into his room while he was working at benny’s. or coming home late from a gig at the hideout, surrounding yourself in everything that was so distinctly eddie.

eddie honestly wasn’t concerned when a few of his shirts had gone missing. or a pair of his cum stained boxers, a guitar pick… as he lost things all the time. he simply chalked it up to his forgetful nature, either he misplaced them or lent them to someone.

that is until tonight, as he peered through your window for what felt like the millionth time. his heart was in his throat as he instantly recognized the iron maiden shirt adorning your frame as his.

the realization dawns on him that you knew exactly what he’d been doing this whole time… and instead of being disgusted or upset, you liked it. enough so that you began doing the same thing to him.

that epiphany made any reservations or fears he still had fade into nothingness. the male decided that he couldn’t sit back and only watch you anymore.

he had to have you.

the brunette rose to his feet, pulling a pair of sweatpants over his long legs before slipping out of his bedroom window. quickly dropping onto the ground as he walks the short distance to your adjoined trailer.

his large hands grip the bottom of the window sill, pushing it open the rest of the way before he’s hoisting himself through it. a small gasp leaves you as he tumbles inside and onto your bedroom floor.

eddie is quick to get up onto back on his feet, as you eagerly eye the obvious tent in his gray sweats. he licks his plump lips as he practically sizes you up. he stalks forward like a predator, slowly crawling onto your bed and between your spread legs.

the male grabs your wrist, coaxing your fingers out of your drenched cunt. raising them up to his mouth, slipping them between his lips with a deep groan. “such a dirty little girl, aren’t you?”

for once you’re speechless, his actions jumbling your already fuzzy thoughts. you never imagined he’d actually come through your window, like you’d been dreaming about for weeks.

“speak for yourself, munson…” your confidence suddenly comes rushing back, pushing your fingers deeper into his mouth. feeling your wetness pooling onto the bed sheets as he swirls his tongue around them.

“guess we’re both a little dirty, huh baby?” eddie chuckles as he removes your fingers from his mouth, now leaning over you.

letting yourself fall back against the pillow, his face mere inches from yours. this is the closest you’ve ever gotten to him, now noticing the light freckles dotted along the bridge of his nose. the dimple that indents his cheek as he smirks down at you, little things that you found utterly endearing.

his hands begin drifting down your sides, his smirk only widening as you shudder beneath him. “is that what does it for ya? you like being watched, sweetness?” he grips the fabric of his shirt, starting to push it up your torso.

you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. “i get off on you…” you slowly trail your lips up his throat, sucking harsh bruises onto his pale skin. the male letting out a husky moan as you nip at his ear, “getting off on me.”

eddie curses under his breath before he’s pinning you down against the mattress, his lips crashing against yours. your fingers tangle in his wild curls, kissing him back just as forcefully. all the pent up sexual tension and desire now spills from both of you, as his hips rut into yours. you can feel his hard length pressing onto your thigh, causing you to moan into his mouth.

your impatience seems to get the better of you as you grip onto one of his wrists, guiding his large hand in between your thighs. a not so subtle way of telling him exactly what you wanted, the male nips at your lower lip before he’s leaning back onto his knees.

he spreads your thighs even wider, as his dark eyes zero in on the mess between them. his fingers dip between your folds, gathering your sticky nectar on the digits. swirling them around your swollen clit before moving lower.

the metalhead teases you as he circles the tip of his middle finger on your entrance. barely pushing it inside you before removing it, a wet squelch filling the room. “oh listen to her purr for me, baby… you want my fingers inside you?”

you nod frantically, lifting your hips up in an effort to get him closer to where you needed him. but he pulls them away immediately, causing you to whine from the loss. eddie grabs your cheeks in his hand, squishing them together as he meets your hooded gaze. “i asked you a question, sweet cheeks.”

he watches as your eyes glaze over more, the dominance he was exuding turning your brain to mush. “and i expect an answer, or is that pretty little head of yours too fucked out for me?” his tone is condescending, borderline rude but it only seems to fuel the fire in between your legs.

you let out a soft whimper, the male letting go of your cheeks to trail his sticky fingers down your jaw.

“need your fingers, eddie…” the male chuckles, wrapping his hand around your neck. hovering his face over yours, his thumb stroking the column of your throat.

“need them where, hm?”

you’re quickly becoming impatient, and he can tell from how your lips jut out into a pout. thighs closing in around his own, in an attempt to feel some kind of friction.

“come on now… don’t ya wanna be a good girl for me?” he can see the effect those words have on you, your pupils dilating and your breath hitching in your throat.

“put them inside me.”

while your tone is meant to be demanding, it comes out as more of a plea than anything else. your heart is racing in anticipation as his fingers trail down your stomach. cupping your cunt in the palm of his hand, “and what do good girls say?”

you now realize your mistake, the male raising a brow as he awaits your answer. “please touch me.” eddie is quick to reward you, plunging two fingers into your awaiting heat.

“see? now you’re learning,” another string of curses leaves his mouth as your walls tighten around his fingers and a high pitched moan falls from yours.

“shit sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight.” he curls the digits up, watching in awe as your back arches off the mattress.

“fuck i need to taste you,” he mumbles more to himself as he lays between your thighs. his tongue darting out, encircling your clit with an urgency you’ve never experienced with anyone else before.

the noises you’re making are music to his ears, and while he’s heard them before— you’ve never sounded quite so needy. pride blossoms in his chest knowing it was because of him, you needed him. he was making you feel this good.

your thighs begin to tremble as he increases the pressure of his tongue, pumping his fingers faster.

“m-more need more.” while eddie wanted to reprimand you for not using your manners, he’s been waiting to have you like this for far too long.

but he’d make sure you didn’t forget next time… if there was a next time. he hoped there would be.

he slips a third finger inside you, the long, thick digits reaching places you never realized existed until now.

and now that you knew what they felt like, your own would never suffice again.

“aww pretty thing, you gonna cum?” he chuckles mockingly as the sound vibrates against your core.

the feeling only aiding in bringing your release that much closer, as your eyes flutter shut. a harsh slap on your thigh has them flying back open, your eyes meeting his as he looks up at you from his position between them.

“eyes on me,” his tone is stern, commanding as his tongue returns to assaulting your swollen bud.

as you start to grind your hips up against his mouth, it pushes his fingers even deeper inside you. hitting that sweet spot that has you crying out a broken, “oh god, please.”

eddie hums against you, increasing the speed of his fingers. “i prefer master… but god has a nice ring to it.” if you weren’t on the brink of an orgasm you might have found that funny, not registering his soft laughter as he sucks harshly on your clit.

the sensation is what finally sends you over the edge, your thighs squeezing around his head and trapping him there.

not that he would ever dare complain.

once you settle back into the mattress is when he pulls away, crawling back up your body towards you. your excitement covers his chin in a light sheen, now tasting yourself as he kisses you with a bruising force.

you reach for the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down his legs. feeling his cock rubbing against the bare skin of your thigh, and you want nothing more than to feel it hard and heavy on your tongue.

“wanna taste you too, eds,” you whine as he trails his lips across your jaw, sucking onto your skin. as much as he would love to have you gagging on his cock, his impatience had reached its peak.

“next time, sweetness… need to be inside you.”

you clench around nothing at the thought of him filling you up. the promise of a next time making your heart flutter beneath your ribs.

eddie unwillingly untangles himself from you, now standing at the edge of the bed to remove his sweats. his cock stands at full attention as you sit up, eagerly crawling towards him. your mouth waters at the sight, finally able to admire him how you’ve been dying to for the last few weeks.

you wrap one of your hands around the base of his shaft, glancing up at him as you lick up the pre-cum that was smeared across his pink tip. the male grips a fistful of your hair in his hand, tugging you off his dick as a small whimper leaves you.

“hands and knees— now.” he nearly growls at you, releasing you as you continue to look up at him in a daze.

“don’t make me repeat myself, baby.”

and as much as you would love to test how far you could push his buttons, that would be saved for a later date. so you do as you’re told, crawling away from him now on your hands and knees.

feeling his eyes trailing over the plush skin of your ass, “take a picture, munson, it’ll last longer.”

what you don’t expect is to hear the snap of your polaroid camera, whipping your head around to see the shit eating grin he was sporting. setting the camera and picture down on your dresser once more, “just following orders, sweet cheeks.” he chuckles, crawling onto the bed behind you.

eddie lands a firm smack on your ass, his chest now draped across your back. his hot breath fanning over your neck as he leans forward to whisper in your ear, “face the mirror, you aren’t gonna wanna miss this, baby.”

your thighs clench together, now turning to face the full length mirror that stood across from your bed.

you glance at yourself briefly before your eyes trail upwards, now meeting his in the reflection. a cocky grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, his hands now roaming the full expanse of your ass.

feeling the tip of his cock brush against your core, pushing your hips back so you could feel more. eddie’s calloused hands grip you tightly, stopping any further movement on your part.

“don’t be fucking greedy, you’ll take what i give you.”

you squeak out a small apology, keeping your eyes focused on him as he rubs the tip of his cock through your folds. gasping once he slowly pushed himself into your awaiting heat, a strangled moan tumbling from his lips.

his eyes squeeze shut as he bottoms out, his balls flush against the curve of your ass. you feel incredibly full, the stretch so divine it makes your head spin.

“eddie, please.” you mewl, watching as his brown eyes meet yours.

desperate for him to do something— anything.

eddie’s rings dig into your hips, his eyes glancing down to watch as he slides his cock back out. groaning as you’ve already coated his length in your arousal, a sight he’d only ever seen in his dreams.

“gonna give you everything,” he grunts before slamming himself back inside, knocking the air out of your lungs as you fall forward onto the mattress.

you grip the edge of it for support as he continues to rock his hips into yours, this new angle allowing him to rub against your sweet spot perfectly. keeping your eyes locked on the mirror, the image of him behind you— thrusting into you will be seared in your memory forever.

the black ink swirling on his skin, the light sheen of sweat on his chest. the veins in his forearms that are much more noticeable as he grips you tighter. he looks more like a greek god than anyone had a right to.

your jaw is slack, mouth hanging open as you continue to watch him. the little ‘uh uh uhs’ that leave your lips mix with the sound of your skin slapping together. now filling the quiet space of your bedroom.

“taking me so well— this pussy was made for me.”

eddie moans, completely distracted by the way your pussy flutters around him. the creamy ring that’s formed around the base of his cock expanding with each thrust of his hips.

“look at me,” you whine, that signature smirk returning to his features as he meets your eyes in the mirror once more.

“aww poor little, baby,” he coos, slipping his hand between your thighs and landing a harsh slap on your already sensitive bud. “always need my eyes on you… don’t you?”

a string of curses slips past your lips as you nod your head. “need it,” you whimper as his calloused fingertips circle over your clit. “need you.”

your words seem to have quite the effect on him, a low growl leaving him as he fucks into you even harder.

“what do you need me to do, pretty girl? tell me.” it takes you a minute before you can answer him, the male having fucked any coherent thoughts from your head.

“n-need it inside.” is the best you can manage, but eddie understands all too well.

it’s what he had hoped you would say, “yeah, you want me to fuck you so full? ruin this pretty little pussy for anyone else?” your eyes roll back in your head, as the male wraps his other hand around your throat.

he handles you like a rag doll as he pulls you up, your back now flush against his sweaty chest. the action forces his cock even deeper inside you, brushing against your cervix. his hand that was wrapped around your throat is now cradling your jaw, guiding your gaze back to the mirror.

your half lidded eyes watch as he leans forward, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, “this pussy is mine now, got that, sweetness?”

it’s suddenly all too much, the rubber band in your middle finally snaps as your body trembles in his embrace. cries of his name and ‘yours yours yours’ tumbling from your mouth.

the brunette watches in amazement as you drench his thighs, your bed sheets— the pressure almost forcing him out completely.

the metalhead curses as he continues to bounce you on his cock, the wet squelching of your pussy finally sending him over the edge. grunting as he pumps you full of his cum, your body falling limp against his chest.

you’re both panting as you come down from your highs. his touch on your hips is much more gentle than before as he coaxes you onto your back.

you hum contently, eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion hits you. eddie cradles your face in his palms, pressing soft kisses to each of your eyelids before his touch suddenly disappears.

your eyes fly open in alarm, reaching out for him as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, “don’t worry… you aren’t rid of me just yet.”

eddie chuckles as he spreads your thighs apart, his dark eyes watching intently as his cum drips out of you. pooling onto the bed beneath you, making an even bigger mess of your sheets.

his head dips lower, inhaling as he gathers the mixture of both your arousal onto his awaiting tongue. moaning before diving in deeper, “shit, we taste good together.”

“too much,” you whimper, wiggling your hips away from his eager mouth due to the oversensitivity.

eddie presses a kiss to each of your thighs before he joins you once more, collapsing next to you with a boyish grin on his face. you reach out to trace the stubble along his jaw, your fingertips brushing over his plump lips.

you feel him release a shaky breath against your fingertips, the look he’s giving you makes your stomach do a little flip.

“so… is it too late to ask you out on a date?”

[ssahotchnerr]

pleasepleaseplease, if you're willing ofc 🫶, can we get a little something where jack is trying his absolute hardest to get hotch and r together during the christmas season?! (i can only imagine the romcom chaos and deliciousness that'll involve haha!) 🙏❤️🎄

mistletoe mischief

the dream!!!!! & jack receives some assistance from morgan also :) cw; bau fem!reader, mutual pining, mentions of food, typical cm case talk, bau family banter, feelings realized (with some making out <3), fluff 🤭 wc; 1.5k

It had become tradition for everyone to go to Dave's house for Christmas Eve. And that meant everyone - the team, the kids, partners. The more the merrier.

It was a time to enjoy each other's company, laugh, exchange gifts and indulge in delicious food and treats. It was a nice reprieve from the hectic stress that the holidays brought, and everyone was happy to have it.

Whereas Jack had a different approach to the night. He had decided, that tonight would be the night you and his dad got together. He would make sure of it.

Only, it wasn't as easy as he thought.

All night Jack's done what he could, in hopes of initiating something between the two of you. Dinner was easy, he had sweetly asked you to switch seats with him - how could you have possibly said no? He persuaded his father to team up with you for the 'reindeer games', like holiday bingo, or unscrambling Christmas songs. That had been a small victory; Aaron giving you a celebratory hug when you were the first to call bingo.

But it still wasn't what he hoped. Things like that worked at school, if someone had a crush on another - they sat together in the cafeteria, they teamed up as partners in class, they played together at recess. (Sadly it was snowing outside, and Uncle Dave didn't have a swing set.)

Defeated, Jack found himself slouching on the couch, pouting alone.

Morgan had been the first to notice his minor sulking, making his way over. "What's on your mind big man?"

"Nothing." He mumbled under his breath, picking at the cookies on the plate you had put together for him.

"Nothing? For someone Santa's visiting tonight, you don't look very excited." He sat down, giving Jack's shoulder a pat, an invitation to open up. "Wanna tell me what's up?"

Jack kept his eyes on his treats, toying with the idea of sharing before sighing, asking if Dad liked you. Like really, liked you.

Derek's lips pursed. His expression changed to one of uncertainty, mulling over the situation.

"That's the million dollar question right there. We think so," Derek confessed, thinking back to all the times where you and Aaron seemed much too comfortable. The constant, lingering stares. Aaron going soft on you at times. The fear in your eyes when Hotch had encountered an unsub at gunpoint. This had occurred recently, and afterwards when Hotch was deemed safe and sound, you had refused to leave his side altogether.

"What have you seen? I'm sure you know what's going on more than the rest of us."

Jack nodded, perking up slightly at his uncle's vague admittance. His lips pulled into a smile, "Well, she is over a lot."

Derek grinned, his head tilting to the side. "Really."

"Yeah," Jack took a bite of his cookie. "We have a lot of fun. She brings over pizza for movie night every Friday if she and Dad aren't working. Cheese for me. Pepperoni and sausage for her and Dad."

"They share, huh?"

"And then Dad spent a lot of time picking out her Christmas present. But they haven't kissed." Jack sighed frustratedly, an innocent confusion on his face. "That's what grown ups do when they love each other, right?"

"It is pretty standard," Derek affirmed, amused himself at the confirmation something was, in fact, going on. It's only been driving the team crazy for weeks.

He, as well as the others, have confronted you about it numerous times, knowing that if they went to Hotch instead, he would confess nothing. But you reacted similarly. A shrug and a "just friends" before switching to a different topic.

"I tried all night too." Jack's bottom lip protruded in a pout once more. "But nothing works."

"Well..." A smile formed on Derek's face. "Maybe you just need a little extra help."

-

"Rally up the troops." Penelope clapped at you, to which you snorted an airy laugh through your nose. "Don't just sit there. I have been shopping since Halloween and I've masterly selected each and every gift and I have been itching to see all your reactions. I almost gave you yours two weeks ago."

"Okay, okay," You surrendered, throwing your hands up. You knew better than to face Penelope's driven wrath.

"You better," Her expression was sharp, pointing a warning finger at you. She hurried away as another laugh escaped you, while you also opted to take one more drink.

As she left the room, Jack entered.

"Hey Jackers," Your face brightened at the sight of him, putting your drink aside. "I heard it's almost time for presents." You raised your eyebrows, a soft smile on your face. "You excited?"

Jack nodded, a glint in his eyes. It was rather mischievous, similar to the one he gave Aaron when he wanted to delay going to bed early, only much more so. "Can you help me with something first?"

"Of course I can," You agreed within a split second's notice. Jack grabbed your hand and led you away just as fast. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah."

He led you towards Dave's foyer. It was dimly lit, shoes scattered amongst the welcome mat. God forbid someone stained Dave's carpeting.

Aaron and Morgan were just coming back inside; Aaron looked a bit agitated, per usual, while Derek was sporting his famous, cheeky grin.

" - I don't know why you would say that." Aaron continued, tossing an annoyed look over his shoulder to Morgan. As his gaze returned forward, and made eye contact with you, the softness in his face returned instantly.

"Is everything okay?" You wondered, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you and Jack came to a stop.

"Morgan said my car alarm was going off." Aaron shoved his keys back into his pocket, leaving Morgan's side and favoring yours. "And evidently lied."

"Lied?" A laugh escaped you, perplexedly looking at Morgan, seeking an explanation as well.

"My bad." He waved it off, giving Jack a wink. That was suspicious, but he switched topics before anything could be said. "Oh, would you look at that."

His hand raised, his index finger pointing upwards, directing right between you and Aaron. Both your gazes followed.

Mistletoe.

Oh.

Your eyes shot to Derek's, wide and surprised. In contrast, Aaron's face remained neutral, but a deep blush was growing on his cheeks, as well tinting his ears.

"Well, we'll leave you two to it." He left it at that, shrugging nonchalantly before gesturing Jack away.

"What... Jack?" You started, turning around. "I thought you needed..."

The two of them were gone before you could finish your sentence. However, you did view the tail end of Derek giving Jack a high five.

So, they had been in cahoots. You scoffed a laugh, shaking your head.

Now alone, your eyes connected with Aaron's, who was standing there rather anxiously. Naturally, there was a touch of tension in the air, but it wasn't awkward by any means. A mutual excitement, as well as relief. An electricity.

Aaron hadn't been anxious, but buzzing with anticipation.

You've been wanting to kiss him. He's been yearning to kiss you. The time had just never been right, nor had it the perfect moment. In addition, there was always the fear of rejection.

And suddenly you felt like an idiot for even contemplating such, because from the longing you noticed within his pupils, you've always been on the same page.

Aaron chucked, stating the obvious and peering back up at the mistletoe. "I think we were set up."

"You don't say." You quipped in response, a nervous laugh escaping you. Oh my god was repeatedly circling in your head. You shifted your weight from one foot to another. There was so much you wanted to say, having gone through the potential conversation in your mind more times than you could count. But now, as the opportunity finally presented itself - nothing.

Aaron on the other hand, simply decided to show you.

He wasted no time - his confidence was quite literally the hottest thing you could fathom. All in one smooth motion, his hand cupped your cheek and he placed his lips firmly onto yours.

A spark of energy rushed through you, the both of you in fact. Every nerve in your body was suddenly alive and heightened. Your fingers clutched onto the sides of his shirt, reciprocating the passion.

Aaron's kiss was gentle, his fingertips rough but incredibly soft where they rest against your skin. It made sense, it mirrored him perfectly. A hard exterior, but tender underneath.

And longing to be even closer, Aaron shoved you lightly against the wall, slotting a leg between your thighs. That way, he could lose himself more into you, and you could fully succumb to him.

Your head was fuzzy, feeling lightheaded in the best way possible as your heart fluttered in your chest. Now that Aaron had kissed you, you were done for. From now on, you refused to go each day without receiving another. You couldn't.

"We're missing presents." You teased once the two of you pulled away for air, cheeks flushed. And immediately missing his contact, your lips easily found their way back to his. You could feel his smile, a happy sigh leaving him.

"They can wait."

[thinkinonsense]

i just listened to sabrina's new album and oh my god the song slim pickins is such a song that was written from daydreaming about lumberjack!logan, oh and the recent fic that you reblogged was just so yummy and perfect for that song especially the lyrics "a boy who's jacked and nice" like god having to settle down for less because nobody can be him 😭😭😭 need him expeditiously im afraid

it's slim pickins

lumberjack!logan howlett x fem!reader

cw: yearning!! fluff, tiny nsfw conversation (nothing graphic)

a/n: this request couldn't have come in at a better time because i'm seeing sabrina on opening night of her tour tomorrow night!! <3

masterlist

"am i just destined to be alone forever?"

another friday night in the hole in the wall bar outside of town. another date gone horribly wrong. your question hangs heavy in the air as you gossip to your best friend who's bartending tonight.

"you keep picking douche bags." she answers without missing a beat.

"well, that's fuckin' rude." you slur slightly, sipping on your third fruity drink tonight.

"well, it's fuckin' true." she smiles, looking over your shoulder at a group of men that walked in. "why don't you go talk to one of them? they look hot."

you spin around in your stool to see a group of lumberjack workers. these were the men that you worked with, you can't flirt with them.

"i work with those guys!" you hiss.

"sooo...?" she smirks.

both of you quickly end the conversation with the five guys approach the bar. the last thing you needed was for these guys to see the desperate and pathetic look on your face. quickly, you rummage through your purse for some cash to put down.

"what are you doing here, doll face?" a familiar voice asks.

you look up and see the most handsome of the men, in front of you; logan. twice your size, buff, toned, tan... god, you had such a crush on him. never in a million years would you go after him though, he's too good to want a girl like you. you were just a friend. he make small talk with you, laughed at your jokes, calls you little nicknames, and refills the coffee pot for you but thats what friends do, right?

"oh... um, i'm just-"

"she's been sitting here moaning and bitching to me all night about her horrible date." your best friend smiles then introduces herself to logan with a handshake.

"thanks asshole." you mumble under your breath at her, making logan chuckle.

"tough night?" he asks, looking down at you in a way that makes heat rises up your face.

"kinda, but i'll save you all the gory details." you admit, sliding off the tall stool a little ungracefully. "have a good night, logan."

"wait, doll face." he says, grabbing your arm to balance you. "wanna talk about it? i'm sure your friend here is busy."

the alcohol let him take you to one of the booths. all the other men noticed logan and you sitting together, definitely making mental notes to tease you both on monday.

"so, what's on your mind?" logan asks, taking a swig of his beer.

"it's nothing really..." your mouth says one thing but your phone says another; practically buzzing off the table.

"you sure?" he raises a brow.

"uh... yeah?" you sound confused as you peak at the notification. an annoyed groan falls from your lips as you slam the phone back down and sink into the booth. "why? why? why?"

"why what?" he squints.

"be honest, do i have dumbass written on my forehead?" you sigh, hazily looking over at logan. the question threw him off guard; unsure if you're joking or not.

"no." he answers.

" well, i sure feel like one. every guy i've gone out with is either the most obnoxious asshole i've ever met who's still hung up on his ex or he's absolutely perfect but he's just not ready for a commitment right now? what the fuck does that even mean?"

all of your drunk rambling surprised logan. at work, he's only seen your shy personality as you scribble down numbers and log them into spreadsheets. this was a completely different side of you.

"i know what you're thinking, 'why not just try dating a woman?'. well, i fucking would if this town wasn't stuck in the 50's, except the men aren't going to war in order to get away from you, instead they just run back in between their ex's thighs and pull that 'it's not you, it's me' bullshit."

it was getting harder for logan not to crack at your silly yet, adorable expressions as you rant.

"and the worst part is that they can't even get a woman to orgasm." you say a little quieter. logan stores that quote in his pocket for another time. "a few weeks ago, i literally had a man in my bed who didn't know the difference between their, there, and they're! i don't know who's stupider, him for not knowing or me for letting him give me the worst head in my life."

if you were even a little sober, this would be mortifying. sitting in front of your work crush and spilling pathetic details of your love life to him. if you were even a little sober, you would have notice his eyes turn dark and lustful under the dim bar lighting. logan couldn’t fathom that you were having trouble in your love life.

"sounds like it's slim pickins out there."

"you have no idea." you sigh.

"if it makes you feel any better, i don't think that you're stupid."

"you're just saying that to be polite. trust me, everyone thinks i'm an idiot for taking these guys back every time. im just like my mom, my sisters, my friends, and every other girl i know. we make up excuses for their shitty behavior because we are afraid to be alone."

logan could see tears forming in your waterline, about to roll down your cheek. it hurt him to see you so heartbroken over these losers. everyday at work, you came in like a ray of fucking sunshine. you didn't deserve to be treated like this.

"it's not your fault that those asshole don't know how to treat a woman." he sighs, leaning forward in an attempt to comfort you.

"i know, i know..." your voice was cracking and you didn't want logan to see you so vulnerable. suddenly, you rise from the booth. "thanks for listening, logan."

"where do you think you're going, doll face?" he asks, following you out the door.

"should head home." you mumble, pulling up the number of a car service about twenty minutes out.

"let me give you a ride home." he offers. "you've been drinking too much."

it's late, you're exhausted and heartbroken so, you let him help you into his truck. it's kinda old but full of character, like logan.

"what's going on in that pretty head of yours?" logan asks, breaking the silence in the car. "still sad?"

you shrug. "think i'm just going to become a nun."

he tried, he really did, but he had to laugh.

"sweetheart, there's no need to become a nun."

"well, i'm never going to find the man i'm looking for so, might as well join the sisterhood."

"what are you looking for in this dream man?"

logan's question has your eyes wondering over to where his left hand sets on the wheel and his right on thigh. the images of what his hands could do flood your fuzzy mind.

"j-just a good guy who's um, who's kind, jacked... respectful, good with his hands...."

it was shameless, your staring that is. logan worried you might get drool on the car seat, not that he would mind.

"hm... those seem like simple requirements there."

"apparently not." you giggle. "it's fine, though. i'm sure the nuns will be friendly."

"still thinking about joining the 'sisterhood'?" he asks, pulling up to your drive way.

"maybe... i'll give it twenty-four hours and if he doesn't come knocking on my door, i'll just buy a chasity belt and go off the grid with the nuns." your smile warmed his cold bitter heart. "thanks for the ride, lo. i'll see you monday."

as logan watches you fumble with your keys and make your way inside, he fights an internal battle over his feelings. he has had a crush on you since the day the two of you first met. by the end of the week, you had baked him some cupcakes, babbling about how you do this for all the new employees, which was far from the truth he later learned.

you captured his heart. even when he tried to burry his feelings for you, when logan looked at you, his world stood still for a moment. he looked forward to all your silly jokes in the break room or the ridiculous gossip you would tell him when he lingered outside of your office door. he couldn't let you slip away into the arms of another asshole who didn't deserve you.

before logan could comprehend what he was doing, his feet lead him up to your door, knocking twice. the wooden door opened and he knew he made the right decision.

there you were in your light blue and grey plaid pajamas with a cupcake in your hand and vanilla frosting on your bottom lip. logan had never seen you look prettier.

"hey? did i leave something in the–"

in the blink of an eye, logan’s hands reach up to caress your jaw, leaning in until his mouth engulfs yours. the taste of vanilla and alcohol surrounded both of you. forgetting the cupcake in your hand, dropping it to reach up and pull logan closer. kissing him was like drinking a glass of wine after a long day. no more stress or anxiety over anyone else’s bullshit. the two of you gasp against each others lips, catching your breath.

“i could be the good guy, you know?” logan pants, now forever addicted to your taste. “i could be the good guy for you.”

your heart fluttered as you stared up at his pretty hazel eyes, twirling a piece of his hair around your finger. this had to be a very realistic dream, thats the only answer to this.

“you would do that for me, logan?” your delicate voice could bring him to his knees, worshiping the ground you walk on.

“i would do anything for you, honey.” he whispers, leaning back in to kiss you again. maybe your dream guy wasn't as far away as you thought?

[peachiejeongin]

Making Out with Stray Kids

Synopsis: Heated make out sessions with Stray Kids.

Pairing: ot8!SKZ x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff, Suggestive

Notice: Hello, my loves! Enjoy these short make out blurbs I wrote a while back as I continue to work on Part 4 of The Phantoms :)

 ~ Bang Chan Soft kisses. It started as one small kiss, a simple peck on his lips to be precise; it was his reward, in a sense, for producing arduously through the night. Now, Chan cannot seem to get enough of you, having you pulled onto his lap and leaning back into you. Neither of you minded this sudden change of the itinerary; Chan needed a break, after all. His lips taste like strawberry gummies and soda pop, a quick snack from earlier in the night. They move perfectly in sync with yours, slow at first, but full of love nevertheless. His arms circle around your waist, careful not to pull you in too fast. You are never able to comprehend how gentle he always is with you, asking every ten minutes if you are okay or if you need anything; a soft ‘yes’ is the only word you’re seemingly able to form in between kisses and whines. No matter how many songs Chan has produced, the soft sounds you make under his touch are his favorite melodies. His head falls back onto the rest of his chair as your swollen lips make their way down to the side of his neck, bruising the sensitive skin lightly and eliciting a sincere moan. Chan does not have the humility to admit it, but he is a total sucker for your lips on him. “You’re so pretty, Hon. I love you so much.” ~ Lee Know Slightly rough, but extremely passionate. You are not exactly sure how you ended up in your current position, yet here you were, pressed up against the wall and kissing Minho dizzy. It does not plague your mind in the slightest; after all, kissing Minho was much more thrilling than figuring out how you ended up kissing him. The kisses are intense, resulting in light huffing from both parties. Minho has one hand on your waist and the other in your hair, pulling at the strands lightly. He moves one leg in between yours, while simultaneously lifting your chin up to gain access to your neck. His lips trail down to your exposed jaw, littering kisses down your neck and stopping at your collarbones. He bites his lip when you attempt to gain the upper hand, tugging his head backwards by his hair and kissing areas relative to where he had just gently marked you. He lowly warns you not to leave marks on him; he, according to an earlier conversation, has a photo shoot tomorrow morning. Yet, his eyes are telling a different story, silently daring you to leave bruises wherever you please. Precisely when you think you have won control over him, he moves the hand previously gripping your waist up to the base of your neck. “What do you think you’re doing, Darling?” ~ Changbin Silly kisses. You are in the back seat of Changbin’s car. His face is slightly blushed, only revealed by the subtle neon glow of the city creeping into the vehicle. His lips are warm, and there is a certain softness to them that only he possesses. Despite this softness, neither of you ever take making out seriously; that is exactly the case in this scenario. Changbin teasingly squeezes your side, resulting in giggles from the both of you. After this brief moment of fun, you’re back to eagerly exploring one another. A bit of play fighting is incorporated as you tussle in attempt to pin the other one down first. Changbin puts on a bratty pout, huffing playfully once you beat him to it. This whiny demeanor did not last long; the sweet scent of your perfume began to cloud Changbin’s senses as all he could focus on was the feeling of your lips gently kissing on his collarbones. Blood abandoned his face, rushing to other, more sensitive parts of his body. He swallowed hard, bunching the hem of your t-shirt in his fist as he so desperately tried to silence himself. His teasing joy is over; it is his turn to succumb to your fun. ”I can play this game all night, Dear.” ~ Hyunjin Lustful kisses. You are on Hyunjin’s lap. A soft, yet sensual playlist lowly blares in the background as Hyunjin’s hands guide your movements against him. His lips are plush and full, tasting of cotton candy from his lip balm. His tongue lightly battles with yours for dominance, but neither of you care enough to actually win; instead, you ravish in exploring each other’s mouths. He moves up to lightly nibble on your ear, his hot breath fanning over it as he whispers the dirtiest thoughts possible to elicit a reaction from you, before smirking as if he said nothing. His hands move from your waist slowly down to your ass, teasingly massaging it. He smiles trickily at every sweet sound coming from your mouth, pretending not to hear your cries of need. His hands make their way up to tug your shirt down slightly, giving him access to your chest. Hyunjin is one to value the moment; therefore, he gets you as needy as he possibly can before even considering taking action. ”Have patience, Love. Our night has just begun.”

~ Han Messy, eager kisses. Han was not one to spend weeks, much less days at a time without talking to you. He always managed to carve a second out of his schedule to at least shoot an ‘I love you’ your way. Yet, you haven’t seen Han in nearly a month, much less spoken to him. He did not respond to your texts or calls, and FaceTiming was not even in the question at this point. Despite your admiration of the attention he payed to every comeback, you missed his gentle caress. It felt like nearly half a century before Han finally reached out. ‘Hi, Honey! I’m finally done with promotions! Can’t wait to see you :)’. The minute he stepped foot in your home, you had jumped into his arms before he could even get a ‘hello’ out. Desperation clouded your judgment as you began to kiss him dizzy. The kisses were slightly rushed, but no less loving than before. He tasted like citrus fruit, most likely due to his chewing gum. You can tell Han’s been quite worked up as well; he is touchier than normal, running his soft hands roaming over and exploring every curve and indent of your body. Breathy ‘I missed yous’ were exchanged in between kisses. The need to get impossibly closer was almost overbearing, even with your bodies and lips practically smushed against one another’s. Even though you haven’t seen each other in weeks, the teasing is still rampant. ”Do we need to move this to the bedroom, Babe?”

~ Felix Sugary kisses. Your back is pressed firmly against the kitchen counter; Felix’s hands are pressed to your cheeks with an equally gentle force as he kisses you. His lips are delightfully sweet, similarly to the brownies baking in the oven nearby. He savors the moment as if you are his favorite sweet treat, not wanting to let go of the delectable flavor just yet. He smiles into every kiss, astounded by how beautiful you look under his soft gaze. It is slow and lovely, his hands gently thumbing over your cheeks from time to time. He is gentle with you, and you with him, placing your hands tenderly on his chest. You do your best not to lose track of time with Felix; you do not want to overstep, plus, the brownies are still baking. It is hard not to feel lightheaded, however, when he litters soft kisses along your jaw and the sides of your neck. The brownies are definitely not the only thing warming up in the kitchen. “My pretty baby.”

~ Seungmin Slow, lazy kisses. You are laid atop Seungmin’s rumpled fluffy bedding; his bedroom is messy, but you do not mind. Your leg is hooked over his waist as he rubs gentle patterns on your bare skin, kissing you gently. You’re supposed to be studying science notes, not each other. Yet, pencils, paper, and textbooks are pushed to the side, and long out of your minds; kissing was much more exciting than studying biological concepts. As such, you found yourself here, your limbs tangled up with each others and your lips softly moving in sync. He lets you set the pace, allowing you to go as gently as you like. Every touch from Seungmin is so sensual and caring. He takes his time with you, kissing and caressing you as if you both have all the time in the world. Your hand finds its way to his tousled hair, which matches your messy ponytail. He mutters breathy ‘I love yous’ in between every kiss, breaking occasionally to nip at you playfully and eliciting soft chuckles from you. Seungmin takes every opportunity as such to traverse more and more, exploring what you both like. “I cherish moments like these with you.”

~ Jeongin Playful kisses. It is one’o’clock in the morning. You ventured to the Stray Kids residence earlier in the night for a sleepover with Jeongin. Now, you are situated under a huge, lofi blanket fort, exchanging flirty banter with one another. It starts with feather-light pecks on each others’ faces. Soon, it turns into the both of you wrapped up in each others arms, kissing each other dazedly. The feeling is still a new one for the both of you; you are not too huge on intimate affection and the relationship is still fairly new. Jeongin is not exactly sure where to place his hands because of this, so he perches them high on your back. The kisses are a bit stiff at first; however, you both ease into them as time goes on. He is quiet, but his soft actions speak louder than the silence. Jeongin incorporates a bit of amusement into the kissing, lightly tickling your sides to relieve both of your nerves. Jeongin decides to experiment slightly, trailing soft pecks down your neck and jaw. He is careful and slightly hesitant with the kisses. With every new movement, he asks if you liked it or if you were okay. As aforementioned, it is still new to both of you. Every new action is exciting, and incorporating a bit of reassurance and fun never hurt anyone. “I hope you’re my first and last. I love you.”

[andhumanslovedstories]

I've been running this writing experiment lately to cut out phrases like "I felt" in my fiction writing. Like I was looking at a sentence in a draft that said, "he felt as if character's eyes were pinning him in place." And then I was like, "well, does he think that or is it true? As a result of this person watching him, he's froze. It's not like a thing, it is that thing."

Oh and "almost"! I'm always going, "He felt almost relieved that it hadn't happened." Well, did he feel better that it didn't happen or didn't he? Or "somewhat", I'm always going, "she felt somewhat perturbed."

And like none of that is wrong, to be clear. I don't know if it'd improve your writing, I don't even know if it'll improve my writing, but I use this sentence structure all the time so every viewpoint is from a voice that thinks about what it thinks, hedges its statements, and offers the same ability for wry little jokes formatted in the exact same way. And I have a lot of writing like that and I think (!) that they're good, but read as a whole, I'm like, "god, they all sound the same." Like there's one melody that I write songs to, so even with different lyrics, it's almost (!) the same song. Something I've been struggling with in regards to my writing and why I've felt so blocked is how boring I found writing my usual way. I'd read something and enjoy the individual parts of it, but then I'd step back and I didn't like the whole. And I got good at this enough at seeing that I didn't like it to do it in real time as I was writing, which as you can imagine didn't improve the process of writing because now I was bored AND dejected about being bored.

There's this sentence-level structure fact that I use unconsciously. A pattern I find easy is short sentence, short sentence, short sentence, long sentence. So I write that. "He [verbed]. He [verbed]. Then he [verbed]. As he [verbed] to his [consequence], he [verbed] that [noun] was [statement of condition]." Which could work, it often does make for a nice rhythm, but it's something I reach for often because it's easier for me.

Just last sentence, I originally typed, "I find it easier for me." But if what I mean is "using this pattern is less effort than another pattern," then it's easier for me. One voice is hedging its bets and the other asserting. Either is fine! But they're different! And, again, GOD you would not believe how many words I've cut out of this paragraph as I write it. I'm so chatty. I love using twelve words when six will do. And that gives my writing a specific tone to my ear.

So if I am bored of that tone, why not try using just the six words? Why be understated? Why be afraid of stronger opinions? So right now with my fiction, I'm experimenting with cutting out as many self-reflective words as I can. Sometime you do need to draw attention to the face that this is the character's interpretation, but like you definitely don't need to do it as much as I naturally want to do it. You don't need to always go out of your way to allow the possibility that the narrative voice is wrong. During editing, I trim the weaker ones (I originally typed, "what I consider the weaker ones" Is that more accurate?). But I think them being there in the first place shifts my language which shifts my character's which shifts my plot. It's sentence structure all the way down!!

(this barely applies to my writing on here, btw. i try to do good but yknow this is a tumblr blog. i'm not trying to get a lit mag to accept it.)

Anyway blah blah (chatty!) the point is I've been trying to write in a way opposite of my interests. Something that doesn't take itself too seriously, that emphasizes EMOTION and ACTION instead of minimizing it, and that clips through scenes at a good pace. Doing this been amazingly fun. I've been having such a good time doing it. I am writing so much because I really enjoy doing it. The process of writing is so fun again.

This post is about two things. One is my new mood stabilizer and therapy day camp. The other is about the benefit of pretending to be MXTX.

[g0dlyunsub]

on your own. | part one

part one | part two

a stalker forces you to abandon the bau and leaves you in the streets strapped to an explosive. when spencer finds you, you’re left with a bitter decision to try and save him.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: general cm themes, mentions/depictions of stalking, kidnapping, needles, blood, explosives, and death, lots of angst

word count :: 3k

author’s note :: this is literally the prelude to pure angst. poor reader has been through too much :(

accompanying song :: exit music (for a film) by radiohead

one year ago

you never said goodbye to spencer reid. 

the first set of warnings came in the form of a letter enveloped in frail parchment paper. you found it on your desk after you returned with the rest of the team from a case. the tiredness washed over you as you slumped in your chair, and you lazily reached for the envelope to detach the sealed flap from the wax.

it’s at that moment, when you read the first sentence, that you wished you never unfolded the letter. 

but your eyes betrayed you, and they shifted left and right as you proceeded to read through the spouts of hatred and animosity. 

you already know the story. you will die. everyone you love will also die. you will lose them forever. you will be sad and angry. you will weep. you will bargain. you will make demands. you will beg. you will pray. it will make no difference. nothing you can do will bring them back. you know this. your knowing changes nothing. 

i will make you understand this unfathomable truth again and again, as if for the very first time.

you missed the person you were five minutes ago. 

after re-reading the letter four times, you realized the uncanny similarity of the message to the iliad, maybe book 21. it was most likely someone trying to spew out a hollow threat against you and the team, using a contemporary translation to sound modish and intimidating. you made a mental note to ask spencer who the translator was once he returned with his coffee.

it wasn’t entirely uncommon for you to receive death threats, especially after working at the bau for five years. while you’ve managed to lock up some of those who had enacted the worst possible actions against humanity, you also became part of the receiving end – a channel for all of the violence to funnel through. 

before you placed the letter back into its envelope, you noticed a small card tucked in the corner of the sleeve. you cautiously took it out, a glossy sticker of a red eye on the face of the card glaring into your own irises.

you turned it over.

this one instantly drowned the color from your face. it knocked out all of your emotion, sealed it in a box, and shipped it away on a freighter that was already set out on a doomed path. 

tell him about me, go on. tell doctor spencer reid about me. i bet he would enjoy choosing who to save: aaron hotchner or david rossi.  

you heard someone clear their throat from behind you, and you swore you heard your own heart beat against the walls of your own skin, thudding like a drum with its sunken chambers. you straightened your posture and shoved the letter to the side. you prayed it wasn’t spencer standing behind you.

you sighed in relief when you turned to face anderson.

“ma’am, a letter for you.” he handed you another letter, this time a charcoal-gray envelope with no mailing address inscribed on it. just your name. after he was a considerable distance away from your desk, you teared the flap with shaky fingers and peered inside.

it was a set of photographs, the film papers bundled together with a single rubber band. you lifted the envelope, letting gravity do the work as the stash of photos fell to your lap. 

your throat ran dry. your worst fear was sitting on your lap, and you could do nothing but stare back at it with panic-stricken eyes.

your cheeks suffused with a color of pale blue and a trigger blew off in your head. 

each photo depicted you with a bau member. and you recognized every moment.

you were grabbing prentiss’ arm as you laughed at the nonsensical joke one of her date partners had tried on her.

you were hugging rossi at his doorstep after being invited to vent personal troubles over some scotch and wine.

you were giving jack a high-five after babysitting him as hotch thanked you for covering him when he went to new york to visit beth.

you were sitting at the dinner table with jj and will, happily eating from a plate of steak and fries as you discussed your future plans to go travel abroad.

you were with garcia, carrying multiple shopping bags as you stopped to point at the beautiful dress showcased in the vintage store across the street.

you were deeply engaged in conversation with morgan, sitting on a park bench and watching the children run around as though not a single worry clouded over their heads.

and you were with spencer, legs crossed as you took a sip out of your hot coffee and exchanged novels to read. a red ‘x’ marked over both of your faces. 

tell doctor spencer reid about me.

the tears fell one by one, staining the tanned paper and leaving the inked words to bleed across the wet spots.

you will die.

if ending credits ever existed in a movie as tragic as yours, they would roll right now – and you would be as good as a deceased character, your name marked in white against a black screen.

i will make you understand this unfathomable truth again and again, as if for the very first time.

you drew in a shaky breath and folded the letter with trembling fingers. the creases retracted the notebook-sized sheet into a flattened square. each turn of the paper felt like you were shattering your own bones, irreversibly folding them into an inhuman form.

two weeks. that was how much time you gave yourself to leave the bau. and to fray the twine between you and your beloved doctor.

you received the second warning a week before your departure. 

this one was a direct threat, a ruthless sign that he wasn’t giving you extra time to think about your options. in fact, he made it clear that you didn’t have an option.

your stalker had taken jack for twelve hours, during which your team – hotch especially – searched relentlessly. no one paused for a coffee break, and every single one of you was going to devote every waking hour to bring jack home safe. the last thing your team needed was a foyet wannabe, and everyone was on edge for reports, sightings, anything.

but the clues trickled to you. he dropped hints for you directly, even one at your cell number. while you relayed everything to your team, no one asked the questions until later. why did he leave you with the hints, trying to lead you to jack’s trail when it should’ve been hotch?

the inquiries dropped like flies when jack was brought to the steps of the fbi office by a “mysterious presence”, according to a messenger who passed hotch a card.

when the card was shown to you, a bone-chilling shiver propagated down your spine and your pupils dilated.

you already know the story, it read.

no one else knew what it meant except for you. typed in courier and printed on the all-too-familiar brown letter paper, the words bore into your soul and etched onto your heart with a searing pain.

you were angry. so, so angry. not at the fact that you couldn’t even get three hours of sleep ever since the week before, not at the fact that you had a stalker vexing you with taunts, but at the fact that he was targeting everyone but you.

to you, he was a coward. if it was rancor he harbored against you, he should’ve confronted you directly. tear a ligament, make you swim in your own blood, leave you for roadkill, you didn’t care. if he was so inclined to get at you, then you’d let him. but never – never – could you forgive anyone who let others in your own mess.

you reached out to hotch first. you told him you had found a new job in upstate new york, where you were going to work as a lecturer at a local university. to make it sound convincing, you told him that a family member of yours had fallen sick and was currently residing there, and you needed to seek solace in their presence.

he understood, just as you expected. he always did, without question. he’d pay visits at your new place and at the university, and catch up with you once in a while. jack would love to see you there, he said.

rossi, too, accepted it without much hesitation. he gave you one of his heartwarming smiles, wrinkled eyes reassuring you for any hesitation you had trying to tell him before. come by any time, we’ll always welcome you with open arms, he spoke with genuine kindness.

prentiss and jj, more reluctantly so. they gave you a tougher time, practically interrogating you – asking you where the address of your new place was, since when you had planned on leaving the bau, and if you needed help clearing out your current place.

you’ve – i mean we all have, a little, but you seem to be… disturbed lately. especially after… jack was abducted, prentiss told you. prentiss and her watchful eye. it’s why you specifically planned to tell her with jj in the room, so she’d reserve the harsher questions for another time when it’d be just the two of you, but by then you’d find a way to avoid the conversation altogether.

morgan didn’t say much. you had expected that though, considering the fact that you would often go to him to consult worries, plans, and theorize about each other’s future. he was silent when you delivered the news, but then he pulled you in as if to shield you from all of your lingering worries.

promise me, l/n. promise me you’ll come visit.

you broke like a brittle twig in his grasp. you wanted to give up so badly.

i promise, you whispered back. the masterful lie rolled off of your tongue before you could withhold yourself, and it lay suspended in the air with heavy guilt and ill-fated dishonesty.

garcia never accepted departure well. you could only watch in pity and remorse as the mascara stained her cheeks and the tears landed at her keyboard. her arms shook as she tried to embrace you, and you didn’t even have it in you to return the hug.

you wanted garcia to be the last to see you. you wanted to save your goodbye with her for the very last, a fluorescent presence in your otherwise gloomy life. her bubbly spirit met your silence with indescribable serenity, and you monumentalized your last moment in the bau with her. she made your life worth living.

you were trying. you were trying to spare the safety of your dearest friends at the expense of your own. you were trying to reclaim the blood that rushed to your face. you were begging for one chance. who could blame you?

spencer did.

you didn’t leave a single note for spencer. you never even told him a thing. to him, your departure was indigestible torment. he usually doesn’t wish the worst upon anyone, but with you, he wondered if he had to make an exception.

you ended up leaving the office a day before your said departure date, because you didn’t want to risk spencer finding out any earlier. you had meticulously planned everything out, asking every team member not to tell another. to your knowledge, no one knew that anyone else knew, save for prentiss and jj.

the day after you left, you received a text from spencer.

can we please talk? 

his message lit up your screen, a lone star in the night sky that was drowned of its usual vibrancy. 

you were too far into this to take a step back. 

after looking up to the sky one last time, taking in the sight of the polluted air clouding the atmosphere with your bloodshot eyes, you dropped your cell into a garbage bin.

you knew he’d be mad. 

you wanted him to stay mad. it would make all of this — the pain of moving on — easier.

some day, he’d understand. you hoped. you hoped and you hoped.

your bitter end was inevitable.

for three weeks, spencer was all alone.

he drew no effort to talk to anyone about it, because you robbed him of his mental clarity.

since the first day you joined the bau, you held him spellbound. you listened to his ramblings, exchanged book recommendations with him, and sat next to him in the darkness as he lay gasping for air after another one of his horrendous nightmares.

you were there for him, until you weren’t.

your absence was his worst torment, a form of loneliness he couldn’t sleep away.

there were times when he’d pour twice the water needed in his kettle, only to realize after that he set down a single coffee cup.

there were times when he’d intentionally wear his tie crooked, only to realize you were never going to be in the office to point it out for him.

there were times when you’d appear in his dreams, when he’d awake and see nothing but a pile of books before him.

you turned into a dull ache in his chest.

you became the sadness so deep in his chest that he couldn’t even cry about it. 

he wondered how it felt now that you left him behind. he put all of his cards on the table, exposing to you his most vulnerable moments and emotions. if only you showed your hand.

he wanted it to haunt you.

he wanted to hate you.

you were impossible longing, impossible infatuation. he thought you were unloveable.

who could blame him?

present day

you never left virginia. 

in fact, you were stuck making ends meet as a writer for a local news journal under the pseudonym lynne davis.

the truth is, it was impractical for you to find a new job and relocate within the mere span of two weeks. quitting your job at the bau was a given, but that also meant that your compensation would drop significantly. considering that you couldn’t work in law enforcement anymore, you had to start over from scratch.

so you tirelessly worked to scour earnings by typing away, writing editorial pieces on sports and personal health.

your night job, you worked as a cashier at a seven-eleven. because you couldn’t work remotely for your shifts, you took up a disguise. you dyed and cut your hair, exclusively wore long-sleeved articles of clothing, and kept a baseball cap on, making sure it snugged tightly against your forehead and hid your eyes.

yet in hindsight, nothing could have prepared you for the worst. the issue with all of this was that you were too consistent. had you changed up your routine from time to time, perhaps you wouldn’t have been caught while commuting to your night shift. but you were too predictable for him.

it happens when you get off of the bus.

when the man bumps into you, he murmurs apologies that you can’t ignore.

“sorry- are you okay?” he asks.

you look up briefly to meet his eye before forcing a small smile with upturned lips.

“yeah, um, don’t worry about it. i’m all good.” you tell him rushingly with the wave of your hand, before turning to walk to the store.

but he doesn’t leave you. his heavy steps mimic yours, treading quickly along the asphalt. after taking a few staggering steps, you stop. you annoyedly turn around, deciding to tell him off. 

“hey, i don’t know what you’re doing-”

you never get to finish your sentence. when you look at him, he’s already face to face with you, one hand grasping the side of your shoulders while the other presses a needle against your arm.

your entire time at the bau, you took pride in your acute awareness of your surroundings, never letting your guard down even around those you trusted. so this was the price you had to pay for your lack of practice – everything folded into a blurry stream as you looked down to see your legs dissipate in the ground, almost like you were falling in quicksand.

when you wake up, you’re on the ground in a narrow alleyway. you don’t know how much time has passed, but it’s hot and the air’s fetid and there’s an itch spreading throughout your entire body-

you look down. your hands are stained with a horrific shade of red, and there’s a crumpled note in your palm. you unfold it.

it will make no difference.

he had you. you scowl at the thought of him subduing you, strangling you with ropes and leashing you to a chair.

you freeze. he’s also made you wear a black leather jacket, bundling you up in the thick layer of suffocating heat. 

you unzip the jacket, and the walls in your head cave in instantly. to your dismay, you’re wearing an explosive vest, armed with a detonator and all. a timer lies near your ribcage, and your heart sinks. it hasn’t started yet.

a shaky exhale leaves your lips as you try to assess your situation.

you wish death would’ve consumed you already, but you have to stand up on your feet and run, away from the buildings and the people, as fast as your weary legs can carry you.

you stand and start to run in the opposite direction from the main road, the sounds of traffic bleeding into your ears as your feet slam against the ridged ground.

parched with unquenched thirst and begrimed with dust from the asphalt, you come to a stop when you reach a fork in the road. 

as you frantically try to think of which route to take, you hear it.

“y/n?”

it’s too familiar. the voice ridden with a slight rasp, carrying an air of inquisitiveness and soothing tenderness.

it sounds like clarity amidst all of the chaos.

you pray it’s not him.

you turn to meet the sight of the wrinkled shirt, waistcoat, and converses smudged with dirt. the brown disheveled hair, doe eyes, and moistened lips pursing with concern.

spencer fucking reid.