#having to have a presentable enough drawing up every day. <- NOT doing one every day but doing enough per batch to post em daily

[jaeyunluvbot]

goodnight n go

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 vernon x fem!reader, kind of secret romance, college au

word count 𝟅𝟈 7.1k

NOT PROOFREAD

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The campus library hums with quiet activity: the scratch of pens, the faint tapping of keyboards, and whispers barely above a murmur. You’re in your usual corner, earbuds in and pretending you’re too absorbed in your screen to notice the commotion around you.

But you do notice. How could you not?

A burst of laughter draws your attention to the table just a few feet away. Of course, he’s there. Vernon Chwe.

He leans back in his chair, all lazy confidence, a backwards cap perched on his head like it’s an extension of his body. His hoodie looks soft, worn, perfectly slouchy, and it’s infuriating how good he looks without even trying. You force yourself to stare at your screen, typing nonsense just to look busy. He’s not even your enemy—not directly. But Vernon is part of Mingyu’s crowd, and that’s enough to keep him firmly on your ignore at all costs list.

You still remember how Jennie looked after her breakup with Mingyu—eyes puffy, voice breaking on every other word. She hasn’t explicitly told you to steer clear of Vernon, but loyalty doesn’t need to be spoken. Besides, you have no interest in frat boys who probably spend more time planning parties than studying.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You freeze. His voice cuts through the library like it has no regard for social norms—or the very clear quiet zone sign on the wall.

You don’t look up. Maybe if you pretend you didn’t hear him—

“Y/N,�� he says again, louder this time. A few heads turn in mild irritation. You want to sink into the floor.

Reluctantly, you pull out an earbud and glare at him. “What?” you hiss.

He holds up a battered blue binder. Your binder. Your name is scrawled across the front in black Sharpie, unmistakable.

“I think you forgot this after class,” he says, his tone casual, almost playful.

You stomp over and snatch it from his hands. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he replies, grinning like you just made his day. “Oh, and nice presentation today in Dr. Kim’s class. You really knew your stuff.”

Your chest tightens, and not in the way you’d like to admit. Compliments shouldn’t feel like this—not from him, anyway. You shrug, keeping your voice neutral. “Thanks.”

You turn to leave, eager to put as much distance between yourself and his stupidly charming face as possible.

“You know,” he calls after you, his voice light, teasing, “I’m not as bad as you think I am.”

You stop mid-step. Slowly, you glance back at him. “What are you talking about?”

He leans back in his chair, his grin widening. “I mean, you don’t have to avoid me so much. I’m not the one who broke Jennie’s heart.”

Heat floods your cheeks—half embarrassment, half fury. “I’m not avoiding you,” you snap, even though the words feel like a lie.

“Sure you’re not,” he says, his tone maddeningly smug. “See you around, Y/N.”

You hate the way his voice lingers in your head long after you’ve stomped back to your seat.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The house is packed, music thumping so loud you can feel it in your chest. You’re clutching a red solo cup—not because you’re particularly in the mood to drink, but because it gives you something to do with your hands. Jennie’s off somewhere, probably gossiping with Irene and Seulgi, leaving you to hover near the snacks, pretending you’re not awkwardly alone in the middle of a frat house.

You don’t even know why you came.

Actually, that’s a lie—you know exactly why. Jennie had heard NCT was throwing the party, and you didn’t want to spend another Friday night alone in your dorm. But now, as you watch the endless crowd of people, you’re questioning your life choices.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

You don’t have to look up to know who it is.

Vernon Chwe.

His voice is casual, but when you glance at him, he’s smiling, almost like he’s been waiting for this moment. He’s ditched the usual hoodie for a plain black t-shirt and jeans, his hair falling messily over his forehead. It’s ridiculous how effortlessly good he looks.

“Didn’t think I’d see you either,” you reply, your tone sharper than intended.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Why’s that?”

“I didn’t think frat parties were your thing.”

“Really? I live here.”

Your face heats up at your own stupidity. He just laughs, shaking his head. “Relax, I’m kidding. I don’t live here, but I might as well with how often I’m around. The brothers in NCT are friends of my frat”

You roll your eyes. “Of course they are.”

There’s a beat of silence, just long enough to feel awkward. You glance at the door, contemplating an escape, but before you can bolt, Vernon leans a little closer.

“You look like you’re having a terrible time,” he says, his voice low enough that it feels like a secret between the two of you.

“I’m fine,” you lie.

“Come on,” he insists. “I saw you glaring at the chips like they personally offended you.”

You almost laugh despite yourself. “Maybe they did.”

He grins, taking a sip from his own cup. “Tell you what—let’s make it less terrible. There’s a quieter spot upstairs. Wanna come?”

Every sensible part of you screams no. This is exactly what you’ve been trying to avoid. But something about the way he’s looking at you, his smile soft and unassuming, makes you hesitate. Against your better judgment, you nod.

Vernon leads you to a room at the end of the hall, far enough from the party that the music feels like background noise. There’s an old couch in the corner, and he flops down, patting the seat next to him.

You hesitate, but sit down anyway, keeping a safe distance.

“See? Much better,” he says, leaning back and stretching his arms across the top of the couch.

“You didn’t bring me here to murder me, did you?” you joke, crossing your arms.

He snorts. “If I wanted to murder you, I wouldn’t have picked a frat party. Too many witnesses.”

“Good point.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. It’s not the awkward silence you expected. It’s…comfortable.

“So,” he says, breaking the quiet, “why do you hate me?”

Your head snaps toward him. “I don’t hate you.”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off.

“It’s fine,” he says, shrugging. “I get it. Jennie’s your friend, and Mingyu’s my friend. Guilty by association.”

You don’t know how to respond to that.

“I just think it’s kind of unfair,” he adds, his voice quieter now. “You don’t even know me.”

Something in his tone catches you off guard—he sounds almost…vulnerable.

You glance at him, and for the first time, you let yourself really look. He’s not grinning or teasing. He’s just sitting there, waiting for you to say something.

You glance at him, and for the first time, you let yourself really look. He’s not grinning or teasing. He’s just sitting there, waiting for you to say something.

“I guess…I never gave you a chance,” you admit, the words feeling heavier than they should.

He smiles, but it’s small and almost shy. “Well, I’m glad we’re fixing that now.”

You’re not sure why your chest feels so tight, or why your heart is beating so fast. All you know is that Vernon Chwe might be a problem—a very, very big problem.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You’ve never been one to lose track of time, especially not at a party. But as you sit on the worn couch in that quiet upstairs room, hours pass like minutes.

Vernon has a way of talking that catches you off guard. He’s not loud or overbearing like you imagined a frat boy would be. Instead, his words are thoughtful, his voice calm, like he’s actually listening and not just waiting for his turn to speak.

Somehow, the conversation flows from harmless small talk—classes, shared professors, and how the campus coffee shop is ridiculously overpriced—to deeper things.

“You know, when I found out you were friends with Jennie I was surprised,” he says, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

“Oh, really?” You arch a brow, leaning back into the couch.

“Yeah. You don’t have that… sorority vibe, you know?”

“And what vibe do I have, exactly?”

He grins, his eyes flickering to yours for a moment before he looks away. “You seem like you’ve got it all together, but there’s a lot more going on under the surface. Like, you’re the type of person who stays up all night overthinking things.”

Your stomach flips at how accurate that is. You cover it with a laugh. “What, did you take a psychology class or something?”

“Nah,” he says, still smiling. “I’m just good at reading people.”

“Then why didn’t you read that I don’t like you?”

It’s meant to be a jab, but it comes out softer than you intended.

He shrugs. “Because I don’t think that’s true.”

You scoff, but he doesn’t back down. His gaze lingers on you, not in an intimidating way, but like he’s trying to figure out how you work.

“Okay, fine,” you say, breaking the tension. “Maybe I didn’t like you before.”

“But now?” he asks, his tone teasing but his eyes serious.

You roll your eyes. “You’re…less annoying than I thought you’d be.”

“Wow, high praise,” he says, grinning.

You can’t help but smile back.

At some point, the conversation shifts to childhood memories. You tell him about the time you broke your mom’s favorite vase and tried to blame it on your cousin, only for your little brother to rat you out. He laughs, and it’s this deep, genuine sound that makes your chest feel warm.

In return, he tells you about the time he got his head stuck between the bars of a park fence and how Mingyu had to call their RA to get him out.

“I don’t know what’s worse,” you say, laughing, “the fact that you got stuck or the fact that you had to call for help.”

“Hey, I was, like, eight,” he says, pretending to be offended. “Cut me some slack.”

“Sure, sure,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye.

Before you realize it, the music from downstairs starts to fade, the party winding down. You check your phone—it’s past midnight.

“I should probably get going,” you say, though you don’t really want to.

“Yeah,” he says, standing up and stretching. “Me too.”

As you head downstairs together, the air between you feels different. Lighter. For the first time, you don’t feel the need to keep your guard up around him.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, he turns to you, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “This was…nice.”

You nod. “Yeah, it was.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to say something else, but instead, he just smiles. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Vernon.”

As you walk home, your thoughts race. You still don’t know what to make of him, but one thing’s for sure—he’s not at all what you expected.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The next morning, you stumble out of bed and drag yourself downstairs to the kitchen, still in your pajamas. Your mind is hazy, last night’s events with Vernon replaying on a constant loop. You’re still trying to piece together how you ended up talking to him for hours, completely forgetting you were supposed to dislike him.

As you enter the kitchen, the lively chatter of your sorority sisters fills the air. Jennie, Irene, Seulgi, and Chaeyoung are crowded around the table, coffee mugs and half-eaten bagels scattered in front of them.

“Finally! Sleeping Beauty decided to join us,” Jennie teases, raising her mug in your direction.

“Morning,” you mumble, grabbing a mug for yourself and pouring some coffee.

“So, where did you disappear to last night?” Chaeyoung asks, looking at you curiously.

You nearly drop the coffee pot. “Uh, what do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Irene says, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “One minute you were with us, the next you vanished into thin air.”

“Yeah,” Jennie chimes in, narrowing her eyes at you. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”

Your brain scrambles for an excuse. “I, uh… I left early. I had a headache.” You force a casual shrug, praying they won’t press further.

“Really?” Jennie asks, her voice skeptical.

“Yup. Didn’t want to ruin the vibe for anyone, so I just went home,” you say quickly, pouring yourself some coffee and taking a long sip to avoid their gazes.

Thankfully, Seulgi changes the subject. “Honestly, I don’t blame you. Those frat boys were so obnoxious.”

“Right?” Irene says, rolling her eyes. “Especially Mingyu’s friends. They’re the worst.”

You freeze, your stomach twisting.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Jennie groans. “Mingyu’s bad enough on his own, but all of them together? They’re insufferable.”

You stare down at your mug of coffee.

“Who even invited them anyway?” Chaeyoung adds.

“Probably Jaehyun,” Jennie mutters. “I think he’s like, friends with Mingyu or something.”

You sit in silence, staring into your mug as their voices swirl around you. They have no idea what you were doing last night—who you were talking to—and guilt settles heavily in your chest.

But why should you feel guilty? It’s not like you did anything wrong.

Still, you can’t help but think about Vernon’s laugh, his surprisingly thoughtful responses, and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his favorite movies. He didn’t seem like the person they’re describing.

“Y/N?” Jennie’s voice pulls you back to reality.

“What?”

“Are you coming with us to brunch later?”

“Oh. Uh, maybe. I’ll see how I’m feeling,” you say, your voice distant.

Jennie nods, not entirely convinced, but doesn’t push. As the conversation shifts, you force yourself to focus on anything other than Vernon.

But no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop thinking about him, a fact that has guilt eating you alive from the inside.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

A few days pass, and despite your best efforts to keep Vernon out of your head, he somehow keeps finding ways to slip back in. It doesn’t help that he texts you memes or random thoughts like, "Do you think penguins get cold?" throughout the day, making you smile when you shouldn’t.

You try to bury the guilt. You really do. But when Vernon suggests sneaking into your sorority house for a movie night—because his frat is too loud, and “your room probably smells better than mine”—you can’t seem to say no.

“Fine,” you whisper-yell into the phone. “But if we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“I can live with that,” he replies with a laugh.

A couple of hours later, Vernon is sprawled on the rug in your room, munching on chips he insisted on bringing while you sit cross-legged on your bed, watching Shrek 2. You hate how easy it is to be around him, how natural it feels to laugh with him like this.

“You know,” he says, turning to look at you, “for someone who supposedly hates me, you’re pretty bad at showing it.”

You roll your eyes, throwing a pillow at him. “Shut up and watch the movie.”

But just as he’s about to throw a chip back at you, there’s a knock at the door.

“Y/N?” Jennie’s voice cuts through the playful atmosphere like a knife.

Your heart leaps into your throat. You practically leap off the bed, gesturing frantically for Vernon to hide. He scrambles behind your bed just as you crack the door open, trying to look as casual as possible.

“Hey, Jen,” you say, forcing a smile.

“Are you coming to dinner with us?” she asks, peering into your room suspiciously.

“Oh, uh… maybe later,” you stammer. “I’m just… talking to my mom.”

Jennie raises an eyebrow. “Your mom?”

“Yeah, she called, and we’ve just been catching up,” you say quickly, holding up your phone for emphasis.

“Okay,” Jennie says slowly, clearly unconvinced. She glances behind you, as if she can sense something is off. “You sure everything’s okay?”

“Yep, totally fine!” you say, practically shoving the door closed. “Have fun at dinner!”

You shut the door and lean against it, your heart pounding.

From behind the desk, Vernon’s muffled laughter bubbles up. “Your mom, seriously?”

“Shut up!” you hiss, glaring at him.

He emerges from his hiding spot, grinning like an idiot. “That was smooth. Really convincing.”

“Ugh, I can’t believe this,” you mutter, flopping onto your bed. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault?” he says, sitting cross-legged on the rug again. “You’re the one who let me in.”

You throw another pillow at him, which he easily catches.

“Just admit you like me,” he teases, leaning back on his hands with that stupid, cocky grin.

You grab another pillow, ready to hurl it, but his words hit a little too close to home. Your grip loosens, and the pillow falls to your lap as your cheeks flush.

“See? You can’t even deny it,” he says, his voice softer now, his teasing tone giving way to something more genuine.

You hate that he’s right. But admitting it? That’s a whole other thing.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It’s been a whirlwind of late-night sneaking, secret hangouts, and way too much Vernon. Not that you’d admit you enjoy it.

Vernon has gotten way too comfortable invading your life. He texts you constantly, calls when you’re least expecting it, and—when he’s feeling particularly bold—throws in a casual, “Miss me yet?” with a winky face. You hate that the answer is always yes.

To make matters worse, Jennie has been clinging to you like never before. She’s always suggesting lunch dates or study sessions, and you can’t say no without feeling like the worst friend in the world.

Balancing both is exhausting. It feels like you’re living two lives: one where you’re Jennie’s loyal best friend, and one where you’re Vernon’s… whatever you are.

One afternoon, when the stress feels like it’s going to eat you alive, you knock on Chaeyoung’s door, desperate for advice. She’s lounging on her bed with a sketchpad when you walk in, looking up with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s with the dramatic entrance?” she asks.

“I need help,” you say, collapsing into her beanbag chair.

“Uh-oh. Is this about Jennie or Vernon?”

Your head snaps up. “How did you—?”

Chaeyoung shrugs. “It’s obvious. You’ve been weirdly busy lately, but you look way too happy for it to just be school. Plus, Vernon keeps staring at you in class.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “I’m doomed.”

“Okay, spill,” Chaeyoung says, setting her sketchpad aside.

You tell her everything—how Vernon wormed his way into your life, how he’s not the annoying frat boy you thought he’d be, how you actually like spending time with him.

“But Jennie,” you say, throwing your hands up. “She’d kill me if she found out. And I don’t even know what this is with Vernon. It’s not like we’re dating, but…”

“But you want to,” Chaeyoung finishes for you.

You hesitate, then nod. “Yeah. I think I do.”

Chaeyoung leans back, thoughtful. “Well, Vernon didn’t do anything to Jennie. That was all Mingyu.”

“I know,” you say quickly. “But it’s not that simple. She hates Vernon by association. If she knew I was hanging out with him…”

“She’d be pissed,” Chaeyoung finishes with a sigh.

“Exactly,” you mutter, slumping further into the beanbag.

Chaeyoung looks at you sympathetically. “Okay, but hear me out. Do you really think this is sustainable? Sneaking around, lying to Jennie, sneaking Vernon into the house… You’re gonna crack eventually.”

You don’t want to admit she’s right, but you know she is. The thought of coming clean terrifies you, though. What if Jennie takes it the wrong way? What if she gets mad and it ruins your friendship?

“I just… I don’t know how to tell her,” you admit quietly.

“Well,” Chaeyoung says, smirking a little, “if Vernon is as crazy about you as he seems, maybe it’s worth taking the risk.”

Her words stick with you longer than you’d like. But are you brave enough to actually act on them?

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

This time, your sorority is the one hosting a party, the kind of event where you can already feel your exhaustion just from the noise and the amount of people packed into your sorority house. It’s loud and flashy, with your sisters dancing and laughing, and—against all expectations—Jennie has begrudgingly invited the Seventeen frat. You know why she did it. Drinks, snacks, and the usual frat chaos that she’s come to rely on for a good time.

But you? You’re stuck. You’ve spent most of the night glued to Jennie’s side, unable to sneak away, unable to make any excuse to disappear into the crowd where you could catch a glimpse of Vernon. The tension in the air is thick, and you can’t avoid the prickle of guilt as you glance across the room and catch sight of him. His eyes meet yours for a second, and you can almost feel the way his smile falters. He tries to move closer, but Jennie’s hand tugs you away, her chatter drowning out everything else.

“Come on, let’s dance,” Jennie says, pulling you into the middle of the room, and you can’t help but notice how she deliberately blocks Vernon from your line of sight.

You nod and force a smile. You hate this. You hate the way you’re pretending, the way you’re avoiding him, as though everything that’s been between you suddenly doesn’t matter. But Jennie doesn’t know, and you can’t risk it. Not when she’s this protective of you. You’d never hear the end of it.

Vernon, on the other hand, doesn’t let it slide. As the night stretches on, you can see him trying to talk to you. A quick chat, maybe a dance, a little smile. Each time, you have to turn away, pretending you don’t feel the pull in your chest. He’s not buying it.

Finally, he steps back, his lips curling into a sharp smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Okay, cool,” he mutters, the hurt clear in his tone. “I see how it is.” He turns away, disappearing into the crowd.

Jennie notices. “Haha, that’s weird. Why is he only talking to you?” she asks, a tinge of knowing in her voice.

You force a laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as fake as it feels. “Yeah, definitely. I don’t know why he was talking to me either.”

The words burn in your mouth, and you want to kick yourself. It’s all a lie. A lie you���ve been feeding to Jennie, to yourself, to everyone. But the guilt is too much, and you just need to get through tonight.

When the party dies down, and you finally find an excuse to leave, you head upstairs, your heart heavy with a mix of guilt and regret. You barely get your door closed before you pull out your phone and start typing to Vernon.

Hey… I’m sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to be weird. I just didn’t know what to do.

You wait, staring at the screen, hoping for the buzz of a reply. But it never comes. A few minutes pass, then thirty, then an hour. Your thumb hovers over the screen, ready to type again, but no new message comes in.

Finally, you give up, tossing your phone aside and heading into the bathroom. You turn the shower on, trying to wash away the anxiety that’s coiling in your stomach. It doesn’t work.

You curl into bed, the sheets cold against your skin, but nothing can stop your thoughts from swirling. You feel horrible for betraying Jennie, for lying to her. But then there’s Vernon, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve betrayed him too. What’s worse is you can’t even tell Jennie the truth because it would hurt her, and you can’t risk that. You feel like you’re suffocating under the weight of it all.

The knock on your door comes hours later, and when you open it, Jennie is standing there, still in her outfit from the party, her expression soft.

“Hey,” she says, her voice quiet. “Can I come in?”

You nod silently, stepping aside to let her in.

“I know something’s up,” she says, sitting on your bed. “You’ve been acting weird all night. You can tell me, you know. I’m your friend.”

You stand there for a moment, fighting back the tears that are threatening to spill. You want to tell her. You want to be honest. But the truth feels impossible to say.

“I can’t,” you say, shaking your head. “I just… I feel awful. I don’t know what to do.”

Jennie sighs, looking at you with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone. But it sounds like you need some time to figure things out. Just know I’m here if you need me, okay?”

You give a shaky nod.

Jennie stands and pats your shoulder gently. “If you need to talk, I’m here. But take your time. Just don’t keep it all in too long, okay?”

You whisper, “I just don’t know what to do.”

“I know,” she says softly, offering you a small, knowing smile. “But you’ll figure it out.”

As she walks out, you close the door behind her, burying your face in your hands. The guilt is suffocating, but you also know that Jennie is right. You have a lot to figure out—and soon.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Everyone is packing up, signaling the end of another lecture. You grab your things quickly, your thoughts racing. This is it. You can’t keep avoiding him, and you can’t let things stay awkward between you and Vernon any longer. You know he’s been hurt, and you can’t just let it fester.

As you walk out of class, you spot him talking to a few of his friends, his back turned to you. You hesitate for a second, wondering if you should just leave it for another day, but then you square your shoulders and head toward him.

“Vernon,” you call, and his shoulders stiffen before he turns around to face you. The moment his eyes meet yours, you see the flicker of wariness in them, the same hesitation that you’ve been feeling.

“Hey,” he greets you, his voice neutral but with a hint of something else. He’s not mad, but it’s clear he’s still hurt.

You bite your lip, knowing this is going to be a bit of a confrontation. “Can we talk?”

His gaze flickers to his friends, who are still hanging around, laughing and joking. He looks back at you, eyes narrowed slightly. “What about?”

You take a deep breath. “I just… I want to apologize for what happened at the party. I shouldn’t have ignored you like that.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You’re serious?” He laughs dryly, a little incredulity in his tone. “After everything, now you want to apologize?”

You can tell he’s holding back, trying not to sound too hurt or too bitter, but you know him well enough by now to catch it. You step closer, lowering your voice so only he can hear. “Yeah, I’m serious. I messed up, okay? But can we talk about it, like, without everyone else around?”

Vernon hesitates, glancing at his friends again, who are still chatting, not paying much attention to either of you. He seems reluctant to leave them, but then he sighs and looks back at you. “I’m not sure what we’re gonna talk about that’s so urgent, but fine. Let’s go.”

You lead the way to the small café off-campus, the one where you both have shared stolen moments before. It’s always been a place for you to get away from everything and everyone. Just the two of you. You can’t help but hope this conversation will get you back to where you were before everything got so messy.

When you get there, Vernon still seems distant. He orders a coffee and takes a seat at one of the far booths, clearly not thrilled about being there, but you don’t let it stop you. You sit across from him, feeling the weight of the silence pressing down between you.

“So?” Vernon asks after a beat, his voice softer, more vulnerable than before.

You swallow hard, the guilt rushing back in full force. “I didn’t know how to handle it. I thought if I just ignored everything, it would be easier. I didn’t want to hurt Jennie, and I didn’t want you to think I was picking sides or something.”

Vernon leans back in the booth, clearly not convinced, but willing to listen. “And now? Now you’re ready to make it right?”

You nod, your eyes meeting his. “I don’t want to keep avoiding you. I never should have ignored you, Vernon. I care about you. I’m just… trying to figure things out.”

He stares at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to gauge whether or not you mean it. Finally, he lets out a breath and looks away, taking a sip of his coffee. “You know, I didn’t expect it to be like this. I didn’t expect you to pretend I didn’t exist, Y/N.”

The words sting, but you know he’s right. You were too afraid of what it could mean to let yourself be real with him. You glance down at your hands, suddenly feeling the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. “I know. And I’m sorry for that. But I’m here now. I’m not running away anymore.”

Vernon doesn’t answer right away. He just stares at you, as if weighing your words. Then, slowly, he gives you a small nod. “Okay. I’ll take that.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Thank you.”

He looks at you, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “But you still owe me something.”

You raise an eyebrow, confused. “What do you mean?”

His grin widens, the playfulness in his tone returning. “A little honesty. You can’t just tell me that you’re not running away and expect me to believe that everything’s all good now. I want to know why you were so damn scared of me.”

Your cheeks heat up, and you look away, embarrassed. “Vernon, stop.”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying teasing you. “Come on. Just admit it. You like me.”

You groan and shake your head, trying to hold back a smile. “Oh my God, you’re impossible.”

He leans forward, eyes glinting with mischief. “Just admit it, Y/N. I know you like me, at least a little.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no denying the flutter in your stomach. “Fine, I like you a tiny bit. Happy now?”

Vernon’s grin softens, and he sits back in his seat, clearly satisfied. “Much better.”

There’s a shift in the air between you two, something lighter, more comfortable. You both know things aren’t perfect yet, but you’ve crossed a bridge, and it feels like a good step forward.

For the first time in a while, you’re not dreading what’s to come. You’re just here with him. And, for now, that’s enough.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The cold of winter had been relentless lately, and you’ve been spending most of your time bundled up in layers of blankets, trying to stay warm while surviving the stress of exam season. Between your studies, your sorority obligations, and the pressure of keeping everything balanced, you’ve barely had time for anything else.

But tonight, when you were in the middle of reviewing your notes, your phone buzzed with a message from Vernon.

Vernon: Yo, I’m locked out of the frat house. Can I crash at yours?

You bite your lip, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one is around. Technically, you’re not allowed to have overnight guests, but you can’t help but feel for him. The cold night air must be unbearable, and you know Vernon well enough to know he won’t ask for help unless he really needs it.

You: I’m not supposed to have anyone here, but I’ll make an exception for you this time.

Vernon: Thanks. I swear I’ll be out of your hair by morning. Promise.

A few minutes later, Vernon’s at your door, his face a little red from the cold, looking as casual as ever in his hoodie and jeans. You step aside to let him in.

“You’re lucky I’m a softie for you,” you tease, but the warmth you’re offering him is genuine as he steps inside.

“I know. I owe you one,” Vernon replies, smiling that crooked smile of his that always manages to make your heart skip.

You show him to your room, where you pull out the air mattress you keep tucked away in the corner for emergencies like this. “I’ve got this, but it’s not the most comfortable thing in the world. You’re welcome to it.” You hand him a pillow and a blanket.

He frowns slightly, eyeing the air mattress. “It’ll do.” He flops down on it with a huff, and you return to your side of the room, trying to focus on your notes again.

But the chill in the room isn’t just from the weather. The heating’s been out in the house for the past few days, and no amount of blankets seems to be helping. After a few minutes of shivering under your own covers, you turn to Vernon on the floor.

“You’re probably freezing down there,” you say, already feeling guilty.

He shrugs, but you can tell from his expression that he’s cold.

“I don’t want you getting sick,” you continue. “You can join me in the bed, if you want. It’ll be warmer with both of us.”

Vernon looks at you for a beat, hesitating, but ultimately nods. “Ok. But no funny business.”

“Of course,” you say, trying to hide your grin, but your heart is already racing a little.

He slides into the bed next to you, and you both lie there, staring up at the ceiling, neither of you speaking for a long while. The silence is oddly comfortable, but it’s also loaded—with so many unsaid things.

The two of you just lay there, listening to the sounds of the night, the quiet of your room feeling oddly intimate with him so close.

Finally, Vernon breaks the silence with a sigh, his voice just above a whisper. “You know… we’d be great together.”

You snap your head toward him, caught completely off guard. “What?”

His eyes are already on you, his expression serious. “I’m tired of always having to say goodnight and go. I like you, and I want to be with you.”

Your heart does a flip in your chest. You stare at him, your mind scrambling to make sense of his words, unsure of how to respond.

“What?” you repeat, because you can’t think of anything else to say. Your voice is shaky, a mixture of disbelief and something else you can’t quite name.

Vernon sighs, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “You heard me.”

He shifts closer, his hand brushing against yours under the covers. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze that makes you feel like your heart might just fall out of your chest.

“I’m tired of pretending,” he adds quietly. “I can’t keep doing this—acting like I don’t want more than just late-night talks and goodbyes.”

You feel your chest tighten, a swirl of emotions crashing into you all at once. You want to say something, but words feel inadequate, too small for the way you’re feeling right now.

Instead, you just stare at him, your breath catching in your throat. He’s close now, so close that you can feel the heat from his body, and his eyes are filled with an intensity that you didn’t know he could have.

You open your mouth, but the words get stuck. What is there to say when everything between you feels so... complicated? So dangerous? You can’t let this happen. Not now.

But before you can respond, Vernon speaks again. “You don’t have to say anything. I just—” He pauses, shaking his head slightly, like he’s unsure of how to finish his thought. “I just needed you to know.”

Your heart is racing. You want to pull away, but something about the way he’s looking at you keeps you rooted to the spot. There’s no denying it anymore—there’s something between you and Vernon. Something real.

But the reality of your situation sinks in like a stone in your stomach. You can’t let it happen. Not now, not like this.

“I—Vernon…” You trail off, unable to finish. It’s like your brain is in a fog, fighting against your heart’s instincts.

Vernon’s hand brushes against yours again, his fingers almost touching yours. “I’m not asking for anything right now. I just want to be close to you. And I want you to know how I feel.”

For a moment, all you can do is lie there, lost in the weight of his words. You don’t know what to say, but you know that the longer you stay in this moment, the harder it’s going to be to walk away from whatever this is between you.

All you can do is look at him, and in the silence of the room, let his confession hang in the air.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The weight of the secret has been hanging over you for so long, and you've finally had enough of pretending. You’ve been running from this, trying to keep your two lives separate, but the pressure is starting to get unbearable. You know you can’t hide it anymore, not from Jennie—especially not now.

You find her in the living room of your sorority house, sitting on the couch scrolling through her phone. The warmth of the fire crackling in the background is a sharp contrast to the cold you’ve been carrying in your chest for weeks. You take a deep breath and sit next to her, your heart racing with anticipation.

“Hey, Jen?”

She looks up, a soft smile forming on her lips. “What’s up?”

“I—I need to tell you something,” you start, your words tripping over each other. “About... Vernon. And me.”

Jennie quirks an eyebrow, her smile widening. “Finally,” she says with a knowing look.

You blink, completely caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

Jennie laughs softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I was wondering when you’d come clean.”

You stare at her, dumbfounded. “You knew?”

Her laugh grows louder as she shakes her head. “You’re really not the best liar, you know. I could tell something was up, and you weren’t exactly subtle about it.”

“I—" You cut yourself off, unable to form a coherent thought as the realization hits you. “So, that whole time you—?”

Jennie shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, I kept bringing up how much I hated his friend group because I wanted to see how long it would take you to crack. Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long.”

Your mouth drops open in shock, but then, something inside you relaxes. You laugh, feeling the tension inside of you dissolve for the first time in ages. “I can’t believe you knew this whole time and didn’t say anything!”

Jennie smirks, her eyes softening. “You needed to figure it out on your own. And hey, you did. So I’m happy for you.”

You feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. All the guilt, the secrets, the tension—all gone in an instant. Jennie is happy for you, and you didn’t have to hide anymore.

With a deep breath, you pull out your phone and send Vernon a quick text:

You: Come over. We need to talk.

The moment your finger leaves the send button, you can’t help but feel a rush of excitement mixed with nerves. Jennie notices your expression and gives you a soft, knowing smile.

“You’re doing the right thing,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “Go after what you want.”

The doorbell rings a short while later, and you almost jump out of your skin. Jennie watches you go with a teasing smile, and you roll your eyes before heading to the door.

When you open it, Vernon’s standing there, a little unsure, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His eyes search yours, as if he’s waiting for you to say something.

You pull him up the stairs once again, except this time, you don’t have to hide or worry about someone finding out. It’s strangely freeing.

“Hey,” you say softly, stepping aside so he can come in. “I, uh… I’ve been thinking a lot about us, and about everything.”

He steps inside your room, looking at you with a mixture of curiosity and hope in his eyes. And for a moment, you just stand there, the space between you two thick with unspoken words.

You take a deep breath, your nerves getting the best of you for just a second. “Vernon, I—I didn’t want to keep lying to myself anymore. Or to you. I told Jennie about us.”

Vernon’s eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“I’ve been hiding how I feel for so long,” you continue, stepping closer to him, “and it’s stupid. I don’t want to keep pretending. I like you. I really like you.”

A smile starts to tug at the corners of Vernon’s lips, and without thinking, you rush to add, “I’m not expecting anything, but I just—”

Before you can finish, Vernon cuts you off, closing the gap between you and pulling you into a kiss that feels like the weight of everything falling away. All the confusion, the guilt, the fear—it all melts as his lips find yours, soft and warm.

When he pulls back, his eyes are shining. “You don’t have to say anything more. I already know.”

You smile, your heart beating wildly. This is it. This is what you’ve been wanting, and now you’re finally getting it.

He pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time, and you can feel everything shifting between you two—like the world is finally falling into place.

The kiss is everything you’ve been wanting and more, full of tenderness and passion, but also full of understanding. You’ve both been waiting for this moment for a long time, and now it’s finally here.

When you break away, your foreheads rest against each other, both of you smiling like you’ve just found something precious.

“I think this is the start of something good,” Vernon murmurs, his voice full of certainty.

You nod, your heart full. “Yeah, I think it is.”

And for the first time in a long while, you feel truly happy, knowing that you’ve let go of your fears and embraced what you really want.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

author's note 𝟅𝟈 i love vernon and i love this song

masterlist.

[epicdogymoment]

god i cant believe i made it over 500 days with that daily len blog. i started that thing in late 2020..... what............

[buttercuparry]

So tumblr keeps on shadowbanning Siraj's accounts and he tries to remake of course, but right now, he is exhausted with  how targeted these bans have started to feel.  To be honest, Siraj is tired of a lot of things: the never ending atrocity, the hunger, the cold, and of course, he is tired of barely making any progress in the  campaign at all. He wanted to make a post today but since he doesn’t have the energy to travel all the way to Deir-al Balah for an Internet connection, I am writing this on behalf of him. Please read through this if possible; these are Siraj Abudayeh's own words:

A perception gained through hearing is merely a poor reflection of the actual, be it about events concerning Gaza, Ramallah, Paris or USA.

It can't ever be enough even if you diligently follow the news. Or if you read every single article or watch every video that maybe available online. For there are things present in the air of Gaza- rotten and burnt smell, metallic smoke that sticks to the mouth and coats the nostrils, poison that is inhaled with every breathe and chemicals taken into the lungs- that no video can capture.

So of course there is a difference! It is a difference between reading the phrase, “I waited seven hours for a bottle of water,” and actually being parched and having to wait hours for some semi-polluted water. There is a difference between reading about Gazan children losing their childhoods, and actually having to see your son despairingly cry out “BREAD!” There is a difference between hearing about a torn tent, and actually having to live in it, that too if you were lucky to afford one.

There is always a difference between reading/hearing it and LIVING it. For all this, I want to say that the one who is only hearing about it does not have the right to draw up conclusions about the needs of the person living the nightmare. They have no right to either question his relentless pursuit for his cause, nor expect that he can be steadfast and not feel exhaustion. There is a difference between what we know and what others have the privilege of not knowing: there is a difference, there is a DIFFERENCE. The meaning is simple, there is always a difference.

In the last 2 days, we have seen some disturbing comments being made about the genocide going on in Gaza. I don't actually have anything to say regarding such banal behavior but I do request you to read what Gazans have to say. Ultimately Palestine will be free, with or without us, but I hope that when we chanted "Free Palestine", there was some truth to it.

( $10 CAD= $7.19 USD)

Vetting #219

[satoruhour]

geto reaction to you wearing only his shirt

OVERSIZED NEVER LOOKED THIS GOOD

a/n: lore. a lot of lore. i always cannot help but write backstories. ure gonna have to bear w/ me SORRY !!!! based off of this drawing that i wanted to write sum about but then i thought why not combine it w/ this prompt. i went a little insane on this mb / tagging @papersirens @crysugu @getousex @hyomagiri @slttygeto, who else r geto fuckers

wc: 2.9k

warnings: roommate!geto, soft dom!geto, mutual pining, reader steals one of geto’s shirts, geto is also a little bit of a pervert, mentions of panty sniffing but geto doesn’t do it, m! and f! masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, slight nipple play, spitting (on ur pussy), finger sucking, p -> v sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

geto was a sweet roommate.

he’s always topping up on supplies when you needed things, pushing away your hand whenever you wanted to pay. where he got all his money, you weren’t even sure. geto cleaned the house, he cooked dinner, hell, it was like you two were married at this point. even gojo had asked if he would get together with someone who wasn’t you (and of course, in classic gojo way, he was skilled in asking it in a roundabout way), geto’s firm and abrupt “no” was enough to make gojo grin from ear to ear.

even he wasn’t sure when it all started — you were always friends with the three of them, gojo and shoko and himself, participating in their antics and getting in trouble in high school. there was hardly any dull times between the four, looking at you through the lens of a friend. but when those lens started to turn blurry and black, seeing you in a new light of tighter outfits and a sweet smile that looked like it contained something hidden, suguru genuinely hoped it would all go away.

it’s not like he thought he was unattractive, but you wouldn’t go for a guy like him, someone hidden behind gojo’s bright personality or shoko’s satirical, cool demeanour. he was oh so oblivious, however, turning an unintentional blind eye when you’re hanging with gojo for the day but only because you wanted to know what birthday present would be best for him, or having a movie night with shoko only to disregard cher horowitz on the television just to ask if geto would like your new nails and hair.

the two of you were so dense when either of you were hanging with them, going on for so long even after taking a gap year for shoko’s overseas med school attachment. they assumed the two of you would’ve done something then, but it was stagnant, dry, that gojo almost wants to take matters into his own hands; so when you’re begging geto if you could room with him, since he lived near the university you were all attending together,

“suguru, pleasee— i wouldn’t wanna travel for hours on end just for like a two hour lecture.”

shoko smiles, gojo laughs, slinging an arm around you, “help your poor friend out, suguru.”

gojo torments him to no end. he doesn’t regret it one bit when your arms are thrown around his neck in a bear hug in thanks, feeling himself get hard just from the way your breasts press against his chest.

“yeah,” it’s said breathily, softly, “it’s no problem.”

suguru thanked god you hadn’t wanted to move in that very same day, cause all that could be heard throughout the small apartment was him pumping his cock to a polaroid picture of you, calling out your name softly as he came all over the photo of your bright smile. he didn’t need the fan that night, the guilt was enough to burn him alive. and after, he acted like nothing happened, except the many, many times he’d think of taking you on every surface of the house, suffering silently for an entire year as the two of you fell into routine day by day.

today might change, however, when geto hangs the last piece of clothing, something that was hardly a difficult task, but it proved to be the hardest thing to date when he’d spot the bras and underwear lying at the bottom of the basket each time he prepared to do laundry. geto wills himself to wash, hang it, and get out but he cannot tear his eyes away from the unmistakable dark spot at the centre of your panties before it’s thrown in, taunting him to just pick it up to breathe in your scent, to do something to defile it, to let his desires take over. but he wasn’t gojo, no, he’d wait all the time in the world for the right time, even if it was at the expense of a throbbing cock and flushed cheeks.

“(y/n), ’m going to the store, you want…” his voice trails off when the drawer before him shows only one clean shirt left, sighing when his favourite shirt has gone missing, again. he knows it simply by the missing tag on the top, cut off terribly by your hands on a drunk movie night. he was thankful you missed his skin by an inch, but he cherishes that shirt and night dearly. geto simply brushes off the mishap, grabbing a sweatshirt instead.

there’s a rap on your door that quells all movement from your side, fabric clutched tightly between your fingers that it hurt just a little.

“(y/n)? love? you okay?”

“y— yeah, i’m fine sugu. what did you say earlier?”

“i’m going to the store. it’s grocery day so i’ll be there for a while — need to stock the fridge up for the week. you want anything?”

geto wishes so desperately to see your face now, asking if you could go and holding a reusable bag by your side, but strangely you don’t even make a move to open the door.

“no it’s fine, and okay! i’m— uh, busy with something,” you look towards the door and back to the article of clothing in your hand, “so i’m sorry i can’t help today.”

geto’s disappointment is brief, but he recovers as soon as he hears your apology, in that sweet, honeyed voice you love to use on him, as oblivious as you were of its effect.

“’s fine, see you later!” there’s a weird and panicky bout of feeling geto gets, but he’s satisfied with the hum you sound through the door. and once the door clicks behind him, you’re unlocking your own door softly, ensuring your surroundings are safe.

geto wasn’t the only one. between your fingers were his favourite shirt, straight from the dirty laundry of last week’s load; it’s been a reoccuring thing these few weeks after realising you maybe want geto to fuck you silly. you’re sneaking around undetected with it, holding it to your nose, breathing in his natural musk. it was the one shirt you liked on him — always put on when with you — it’s like your secret little joke from that night. and it was so sinful, the way your breath hitches from just his scent, the way your panties pool with arousal.

what would it be like to actually wear it?

the thought crosses your mind and leaves just as fast, heart pounding in your chest when you realise you’ve never tried that before.

peeling off your top, you slip it on carefully, swallowing from how much larger he is than you. the sleeves extend past your elbows by a little, so much cloth on you that you’re a little lightheaded by the possibility of being geto’s, belonging to geto.

“oh god…” you sigh, feeling your pussy throb at the thought, and your hands are shy when they creep in between your thighs. they rub at your clit gently, imagining geto was doing the work instead. he’d be so gentle with his hands, cupping your thighs, spreading your legs.

you’re whining when your fingers find your way into your cunt, nose filled with the scent of geto and head filling with the repeated runnings of his tongue on you, his cock in you, his whole person devoted to you. it’s cute how you don’t know that’s already the case. your fingers are lacklustre as you pump them in and out while your other hand is busy with your clit and you look like a goddess: spread out on your bed in nothing but your roommate’s shirt, a soft, slow melody playing from your phone.

you’re so entranced by the sensations you don’t hear the front door opening and the rustle of the plastic bags (he forgot the reusable bags) containing your groceries, distracted by the phone call he’s having with gojo who teases him through the line. his best friend says stupid crap like she’s definitely into you, too. what her panties smell like? have you guys fucked yet?

the last two was enough for geto to whisper a soft satoru!, clearly displeased with the way he was asking about you, about you both that he only rolls his eyes, muttering an annoyed “i’m hanging up, you pervert. i’ll talk to you later—”

setting down the bags, he frowns again upon seeing the closed door, although not as closed you thought you left it.

“suguru— f-fuck, right there—” geto chokes on his saliva at the moans coming from behind the door, careful not to step on the wrong floorboard below him as he lines up with your room door — a terrifying feat rewarded by your needy whines begging for him. he can hear the wetness of his roommate’s cunt, and he wants to take a peak so bad; so he does just that and stiflies a groan at the sight.

your hair is splayed out all around you, pussy facing the entrance of the door just perfectly and his shirt draped over your body. it sends him into a frenzy, head reeling at seeing his shirt so oversized and so perfect over your body that he swears he cums a little at the display. your cute face scrunched up in pure pleasure, your toes curling around the bedsheets he changed for you.

oh, shit.

and geto panics when your head shoots up, eyes meeting his and your hands halting.

fuck, did i say that out loud?

you’re speechless although your reflexes cause you to close your legs immediately, scooting up the bed like you’ve just got cornered by a predator. it was similar — geto with his big, brooding self, moving slowly into the room with both hands up and a dazed look behind his eyes, you, exposed in the eyes of a hungry man who’s craved you for so many months. you like it.

“you’re— you’re wearing my shirt,” geto gulps, causing you to let out a nervous laugh.

“yea— yeah…”

geto thinks that maybe this is it. this was the moment he’s been holding back on for so long, and so he crosses that boundary into your space, stopping right at the footboard of the bed. you follow suit, going onto your hands and knees and crawling to him that he tilts his head back. everything you do drives him crazy.

suguru’s words is heavy, “you think you’re cute, hm? stealing my shirt and then moaning out my name and fingering your pussy like that…”

your breath shakes, ascending to your knees so you’d reach his height, but not quite. he tugs you closer to him.

“yeah.” it’s so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it, “been wanting you for a long time.”

your roommate hums, lips hovering over yours just by an inch. you’d probably pass out if not for your racing heart and pulsating core.

“yeah?”

you’re finished with words, resorting only to a shy nod before geto crashes his lips onto yours, wrapping the other arm around you as yours go around his neck. it’s messy, filled with drool, devouring you on the spot for teasing him for so long, mouths moving in sync with each other. there’s a soft moan that escapes your mouth when you feel him manhandle you with ease, picking you off the bed to set you down on your back gently.

“c’mon, let’s see the mess you made,” you mewl at the words but your legs are stubborn, still in disbelief at the way suguru treats you, but you let him pry your legs apart after some gentle praises. you stifle a smile when you see how geto exhales at how beautiful your pussy is, leaking from your hole while your puffy clit is begging to be touched.

“oh, she’s so fuckin’ pretty…” your roommate mumbles, intoxicated on your scent as he bends down, giving your cunt one last loving look before he looks to you with a small grin. it’s clear he cannot wait, but he pauses for the words he wants to hear.

“wan’ you to eat me out, sugu,” you’re mumbling and suguru thinks it’s so cute, only responding by giving you a peck on your inner thigh, a soft yeah? before he goes down on you.

geto’s tongue on you is slow and cautious, drawing languid circles around your clit as he plays with your thighs, moaning softly into your core.

“s’damn sweet,” you can feel the stretch of a smile before he resumes, drawing you in slowly with each lick, each suck. geto doesn’t let your arousal go to waste, using a finger to scoop up your juices before he rubs the area around your hole and then the first push into your pussy makes you let out a loud, wanton moan.

“oh— your fingers, sugu, they’re—” they’re so much thicker and longer, everything that you couldn’t feel before now feels too much and yet your cunt gives him his answer by clenching around his longer finger.

“better than yours?” he asks with a lopsided smile.

you huff in indignance — not your fault you had shorter fingers, “yeah.”

“i’ll make full use of ’em, baby,” geto gasps softly when he pushes his finger right to the hilt, obsessed with the way your hand closes around his wrist. “too much?”

you shake your head, “n-no, just— feels too good.”

your roommate laughs softly, “princess is just too sensitive.”

he’s tempted to chuckle again when he sees how the pet names affect you, but soon he’s adding a second finger and pushes in, moving at a slow speed. and then when he adds his mouth into the mix, you’re begging for him to hurry; his eyes flutter close, getting lost in everything that you dish out.

geto’s pace is routine like his life, but it’s not any less pleasurable as he curls his fingers upwards, stretching you out and hitting your spot repeatedly. he continually flicks his tongue and sucks and slurps, tasting your essence once and needing a second, third, fourth, umpteenth taste, bringing out the most delicious moans to fall from your lips. it’s like hearing aphrodite sing, and yet you cross her by miles both in beauty and voice. surely, he shouldn’t mention that out loud, but eros can’t possibly help the arrow puncturing his heart, and looking at his psyche now, he thinks you look absolutely flawless.

“f-feel so good, mmh— so deep, suguru—!” his eyes snap open to look at you with hooded lids, sending you a cheeky wink before he starts to suck on your bundle of nerves, keeping his mouth latched around it as his fingers speed up. the noises of your cunt sucking him in paired with your whines just sound so good, and the scent of his shirt is dizzying, pulling it higher and higher till it pools around your chest. you watch as geto pulls away for a second, gathering saliva in his throat before he spits on your pussy, and the action is so lewd your jaw drops and your hips start to hump against him. 

“ya like that? filthy girl,” geto smiles, rubbing his thumb into your clit and there’s that distinctive build-up in your stomach, coiling and burning until lays his tongue flat onto your cunt, pressing it deep along with the fingers that curl up in your pussy.

“su—” you don’t even have time to tell him, cumming all over his fingers and soaking the sheets, flustered at the in-awe look geto has on his face at how the shirt had ridden up, at how your hands cup your tits and play with your nipples, at how your cunt gushes so sweetly for him. he continues to pump his fingers to let you ride out your orgasm, relishing in the whine you let out when he removes his fingers.

“patience, sweetheart,” geto moves up to reach you, fingers waiting inches away from your lips. you’re taking his fingers into your mouth, keeping eye contact as you wrap your tongue around them and sucking your cum off of him, swearing lowly when you grab his wrist and shove them deeper. “but then again, we’ve been dancing around each other for too long, now.”

you smile at his allusion to the many times that the what-ifs could’ve come true, and yet now you’re tangled up like this in his shirt.

once geto’s underwear comes off, you’re gaping at the cock that he pumps, clearly looking intimidating enough that geto has a hand to your knee and kisses it gently. “we’ll make it fit, alright?”

you nod a little timidly, taking his hand off and twining your fingers, “yeah, i trust you to take care of me.” you make a quick move to remove his shirt but he stops you, saying something embarrassing about wanting to see how cute and small you look in his shirt. you’re scoffing and pushing at him later, you’re just too tall.

he takes care of you perfectly fine — when geto fully sheathes himself in you, he can only focus on your gummy walls that wrap around him fully, his eyes are rolling to the back of his head and you’re grasping at his hands that grab your hips so hard. your roommate fucks you so well, your body limp and your pussy begging to milk him dry that it spills out so much — geto groans into your neck with reddened cheeks at that later.

you’re receiving a noise warning the very next day, alongside a QR code that takes you to a link for soundproof foam, and all you can do is laugh at each other. like routine, geto is already gathering the ingredients for an apology cake, beside him right in that little kitchen in another shirt of his that starts to smell more and more like you—

as his roommate and maybe now, something more.

part two ♡

[minkieater]

twin cowboys ⇄ yungi ʚɞ song mingi x f!reader x jeong yunho your sorority chose to spend spring break in nashville this year and you couldn’t wait to finally go out to bars with your sisters. it was your second night out on the broadway strip and the only thing on your mind was having a good time – who are mingi and yunho to stop you?

w. smut 18+ minors dni porn with a lil' plot, dom/sub dynamics wc. ~9k

spring break for you and your sorority was a big deal.

for the last three years you’d traveled with the group of girls to new orleans, new york, las vegas, all places with incredible nightlife and a vast amount of things to do whether you’re of age or not. the older sisters always went to bars and clubs, leaving the underage sisters to their own devices in a new city, but someone always knew someone, there was never a shortage of something to do. 

this is your first year of being able to go out to places you could legally drink at and you were overflowing with excitement at where was chosen in the famous yearly salad bowl draw. every year you and your sisters would sit in the living room, your cutest and comfiest pajamas on and the entire sorority would get a partner and make a powerpoint presentation of where they wanted to travel to for spring break, including everything you could do in that city. at the end of all the presentations, you’d put all the cities in a bowl, and the president of the sorority would choose where you’d go.

this year the name that was drawn was nashville, tennessee. 

the bowl draw was smart, every year you had a complete guide already made up, the only work to be done was figuring out where to stay and getting tickets on the same flight. the vice president always figured out the rest, an unspoken job that was passed down year to year. 

this year you were staying in an adorable airbnb, decorated in pink, little sayings and picturesque opportunities covering the walls. it was massive, it had rooms for each of you, including a living space and a kitchen. if you needed to you didn’t have to leave, the place was enough for an instagram post — perfect for the underage sisters. 

it was your second night going out on the broadway strip and you were still hungover from the night before. you get ready with a redbull in hand, chasing your shots with it, using it to power through the stomachache and energize you for another night of too much alcohol. your sisters felt the same, despite the loud music flowing through the space of the home there was an underlying trudge between the sixteen of you. 

you did your makeup before you could feel the buzz that was flowing through your veins form into a flat out drunk, leaving you to only choose your outfit. you had packed very specifically for the short four days you’d spend in nashville, a leather mini skirt, leather top and of course, leather cowboy boots was already laid out for you as your night two outfit. 

your sisters were dressed the same, tassels and cowboy boots were on everybody in the house, that’s how you dressed for nashville, it was on every woman in the city between the ages of twenty and fifty. you’d all gotten ready in the middle of the day, most of you just waking up from a drunken sleep to shower and do it all over again. 

before you left the house you shoved a couple of crackers down your throat, something to soak up the alcohol so you didn’t throw up high noons all over the pink airbnb when you got home tonight. you’d walked up and down the strip a few times already the night before, checking out every bar on the sloped street that way you had a better idea of where you’d spend your night tonight. 

as you left the airbnb your first stop was kid rock’s honkey tonk, a building consisting of five stories that had a different band playing on each one. you’d made it through all five stories, stopping for a drink at each of the six bars, spending more than enough time in the crowd before the band. 

it was getting later, the sun had far past gone down, you and your sisters decided to go to where you’d spend most of your night tonight. luke bryan’s bar, 32 bridge, was connected to jason aldean’s rooftop bar, two places that you could slip back and forth from by just going to the top floor. the night before you’d loved it there, with country music playing earlier in the night shifting to more typical techno and rap music as you got closer to the nightlife crowd entering the bar. 

you were standing on the stage, the lights glowing a dim, cool blue, a massive crowd beyond the stage. you and three of your sisters were dancing along to a random country song, kicking your feet and swaying your arms in the air as if you were holding a lasso. you paid no mind to the crowd beyond you who was watching, eyeing you up from below. you were having fun with your sisters, all three of you giggling onstage, eyes half lidded in a drunken haze. 

the song ended and you realized your drink was empty, you motioned to the bar to let your sisters know you were going for a refill, leaving you to fight the dense crowd on your own. you stuck to the outskirts, weaving through random people and groups of girls just like you jumping and dancing to the music, trying your best to head straight to the bar. 

you sighed when you noticed the three layered crowd surrounding the entirety of the bar, knowing you’d be waiting here for a while to get close enough to even be noticed by the bartender. this was everywhere, every bar, nothing you hadn’t already experienced in the 36 hours you’d been here. 

“what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” your neck snapped to the corny pick up line coming from a raspy, poor accented voice, having to crane your head upward to see the face the voice was connected to. he was smiling, humor laced in his tone, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the attempt. 

“never heard that one before,” you laughed it off as he tipped his cowboy hat in your direction, obviously putting on a southern front when there was no way this man had ever stepped foot in the south.

“was it convincing?” he kept up with the fake accent and instead of cringing you giggled again, covering your mouth with the hand that wasn’t holding your drink. 

“somewhat,” you shrugged your shoulders, a blush creeping on your cheeks when you really looked at him. dark, black hair if it wasn’t the deepest brown hair you’d ever seen curling around the edges of his cowboy hat, a lean but muscular build, you could see his forearms flex under the folds on his western themed button up as he drank from his beer. deep, inviting dark eyes, full lips and a sloped nose. he was sturdy, definitely your type, tall and husky and strong. 

“i’ll take that as a win, doll,” he smirked, dropping the accent as the corner of his mouth lifted into a lopsided smile, “who are you here with?” 

“my sorority,” you turned to point to the stage, the remaining two of your sisters dancing with one another for the crowd. that was one way to let you keep an eye on them. 

“no way, i’m here with my frat,” his eyes were wide in surprise, “did we all have the same idea for spring break?” 

“seems like it,” you used your hand to refer to the crowd surrounding you, it seemed like there was no one present that was above the age of twenty five. “have you ever been here before?” 

he shook his head, “nah, the president’s birthday was yesterday so we’re here to celebrate him and spring break.” 

you nodded then decided to introduce yourself, wanting so badly to learn the cowboy’s name, encouraging the conversation to keep flowing so he’d stick around for awhile. 

“mingi,” he tipped his hat again with that pitiful accent, “pleasure to meet you, doll.” 

the blush returned to your cheeks, a weak resolve when his pick up lines were not up to par. you finally got up to the bar, a space left open when the person in front of you had gotten their drink, and you waited with elbows on the gloss finished wood for the bartender to come around to you. 

“did you need another beer?” you asked mingi who stood behind you, grateful he hadn’t left. he shook the bottle of beer to feel how much of it was actually left, and gave you a nod. 

he reached into his pocket and passed you his card, “a drink for you and me.” 

“we just met, i can totally get my own drink, don’t worry about it,” you pushed his card back to his chest and his smile returned, showing his lopsided teeth that matched his endearing look. 

“let me show you a little southern hospitality, you can get the next one if you’d like,” he was giggling as he spoke, barely getting the words out because he knew he was keeping the act up for too long, it was too entertaining to stop, plus it seemed like it was actually working. 

the bartender came around quickly without giving you time to respond, you ordered drinks for the both of you while tapping the corner of his card on the bar. the bartender quickly returned with your drinks and you traded them for mingi’s card, waiting for their swift return so you could sign off on the transaction. 

“wanna dance?” he asked as you turned around, handing his beer to him. 

“only if you promise to cut the accent.” he laughed at that and nodded, walking towards the crowd of people. 

he guided you slowly, inching towards the center of people, wanting to get to the more dense area of the crowd. he seemed to have found his friends, waving to three people who were shorter than him, all wearing cowboy hats and western attire themselves. they were all hot, you needed to find out where he went to school.

he turned back to you and started dancing, a sway to his hips matching that of the cowboy boots on his feet, swinging back and forth in front of you, encouraging you to match his rhythm. you agreed, your body naturally reacting to the flow of the music and the movement of his body, bodies quickly getting closer. it was like his hips were magnetic, the way they pulled you closer to him, closing the space between you. 

your chest came up to just before his pecs, your head tilted up to get a view of his face, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. the songs switched, the next one a hit that everyone in the building knew, a famous song across the entire country. 

well i walk into the room, passing out hundred dollar bills…

you squealed in excitement, jumping a little bit because you know this one. you immediately started singing along, taking control of the dance this time, making mingi move to a flow of your own. 

cause i saddle up my horse, and i ride into the city…

his empty hand reached for your hips, keeping you flush to himself, singing along with you as he stared down at you, between you. you sipped your drink as your legs moved between his own, somehow getting even closer, welcoming every huge inch of him pressed to you. 

riding up and down broadway, on my old stud leroy…

an idea popped into your foggy head, a clever one, one you were sure would get the man to finally close the distance. you reached up to his cowboy hat and quickly took it off his head, placing it on your own as the words save a horse, ride a cowboy pumped through the speakers of the club and out of your mouth. 

his sweet smile turned devilish before he moved his lips closer to your ear, “doll, do you even know what you just did?” 

you laughed, your head falling backwards in a drunken haze, eyes fluttering shut as you held his hat tight on your head with your hand. 

you were oblivious to the old saying, the unspoken rule that if you take off a cowboy’s hat, it’s an invitation to take off other things, too.  

his hand tightened around your hip, snapping you out of your giggles and swiftly moved his hand up to your chin, fingers pinching the skin to connect his lips to yours. you allowed it, you welcomed it, your too hot body immediately leaned into his touch. 

your free hand moved up to cup his cheek, moving your lips with his, biting the skin of his bottom lip. he gasped and you used the opportunity to slip your tongue in his mouth, tangling with his own. your bodies kept swaying, moving, dancing as your tongues tangled, bodies involuntarily moving to the music and to each other. 

your back arched into him, pulling away so you could switch your angle, connecting your lips to his again. it was deepening, too hot to be in the middle of a crowded bar. you heard cheers from behind him that you could only assume were his friends, making you smile into the kiss, inevitably breaking the trance the two of you had subconsciously entered. 

you giggled as you peered around his shoulder at the shorter guys who were cheering and clapping, rooting for their friend in the middle of the dance floor. there was a blush to mingi’s cheeks as he told his friends to shut up, then turned back to bring his lips to your own again in a short peck. 

“ignore them!” he yelled as he pulled back, getting into the groove of dancing along to the next song. 

“it was cute,” you replied, taking his hat off of your head and standing up on your tippy toes to put it back on his head. 

“gotta pee! i’ll be back,” you told him, the seal you had broken an hour ago was on overdrive, now your bathroom breaks were getting closer together. he pulled you flush to him in another of slew of open mouthed kisses before he let you go, sending you off with a quick tap to your ass. 

you maneuvered through the crowd again, much more dense this time before you finally made it to the sparse areas, head turning left and right in search for the bathroom. you spotted it and made it there quickly, resetting your bladder to another countdown before you were off for the crowd again. 

as you left the bathroom in a rush, eager to get back to mingi, you slammed face first into something similar to a brick wall. 

you jumped back a step, apologies flooding out of your lips, craning your neck to look up to the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen looking back down at you. 

“you’re good, don’t worry,” he waved his hand with a tight lipped smile, bringing the same hand up to adjust the hat that was atop his rich, chestnut hair. 

“did i spill your beer? i can get you another one,” you offer, hands wiping at the damp spots in his button down, strong abdomen underneath. it was similar to the one mingi wore, identical to the one his friends’ shirts, your drunk mind was too foggy to notice the correlation. 

he shook his bottle and his lips tightened with his eyebrows raised and a tilt to his head, “i could use another beer, actually.” 

you smiled, grateful he was allowing you to pay back the inconvenience you caused him, quickly guiding him over to the bar again. you got yourself another drink and another beer for him, the crowd around the bar was two layers less compared to your last stop here. 

“thank ya, little lady,” he smiled again, patting your head with his long fingers. you were weak in the knees, he was huge, taller than mingi but more lanky. his arms were thinner, thighs less full yet he also looked so strong… where have all of these men been hiding? 

“we’re even now…?” you asked for his name without asking for it, your sentence trailing along, soliciting the information from him. 

“yunho,” he finished for you, those kind eyes smiling down at you once more. you introduce yourself back with a smile, and he shook your hand much to your surprise. such a mature gesture from a seemingly college boy…it was somehow expected from his character that bled through his features. 

“i wouldn’t say we’re even yet, little lady,” yunho interrupted your train of thought, picking your hand up that was glued to your side, “you owe me a dance and then we’ll be even, scout’s honor.” 

he held up three fingers and you laughed, nodding so he’d put down his damn hand that wasn’t holding onto yours and he led you to the crowd. 

he kept towards the outskirts, only inching you in maybe five layers deep, nowhere near the center. his arm immediately slipped around your waist, knees bending a bit as he did, pulling you flush to him to the flow of music in the air. you giggled, swaying your hips along with his, less build up than you had with the other cowboy yet the destination was just as clear. 

you turned yourself around, pressing your back to him instead and he kept that same arm curled around your waist. you tilted your head, hair falling to one shoulder, leaving the other one bare for him. mingi had started something you were unable to finish, you’d hoped that yunho would pick up right where he left off. 

yunho took a breath, moving his hand to travel along the skin of the slope of your neck to your shoulder, pressing his fingers to the flesh made bare for him. your body’s temperature rose even higher than before, trapping the noise of enjoyment in your lungs. your hips moved in tandem, bodies moving as one to the beat, yunho’s small touches only encouraged the pit that was forming in your stomach. you were getting worked up, beginning to inch toward needing a release, not caring which cowboy you got it from. 

like he could read your mind, yunho bent down and pressed his lips to your shoulder, evoking a sound you couldn’t keep inside this time. your head sank back into his shoulder, your hips stuttering slightly against his, you couldn’t hide what yunho knew you needed right off the mark. 

his lips trailed along the skin of your shoulder, spending time where it met your neck, licking over the sensitive skin there, only encouraging your body to sink further into his own. his hand trailed around your hips, playing with the hem of your skirt, fingertips slipping inside the leather to rub against the skin of your thigh. 

you whipped your body around, overstimulated by the small touches, you needed more. you pressed your lips to his and he moved his hand from your skirt to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. his knee split your legs, slipping a muscled thigh between your own, pressing up against your center. 

once again you were in the crowded mob, doing something not meant for the public eye yet enjoying every second of it — damn near begging for more, for it to go further. you moaned at the contact, finally getting some kind of stimulation where you needed it. your lips moved quickly, rushed, your hand flying to his chest to grip onto the fabric of his shirt. yunho chuckled into the kiss and bounced his leg once, twice before you had to pull your lips off of his, eyes screwed shut. 

“yun!” a voice called from behind you and you wanted to scream in frustration, tell the other person to fuck off so you could keep going, finally finish what had been started. but as you whipped around and your other cowboy stared at you in the face, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly ajar, you knew you were caught red handed. 

a blush crept onto your cheeks, mingi clearly didn't realize it was you that yunho had attached himself to when he yelled his president’s name. you didn’t realize they knew each other. 

“damn, i was gonna ask if you were ready to move to another bar,” his lips pulled into a line but you didn’t see any anger in his big, innocent eyes, “i see that you’re busy.” 

your eyes trailed up and down his figure, thighs thick and full and inviting. you peered up to his lips through your eyelashes, missing their taste, wanting more of him. an idea popped into your head, another one that you didn’t consider the consequences of, thinking with everything but your head. 

you curled your index finger, motioning him towards you as your back sunk into yunho’s chest once more. as mingi came closer, your chin lifted to give mingi your best innocent look, “don’t go, we’re just getting started.” 

you swung your arms around mingi’s shoulders, locking your fingers around your cocktail, hips starting to move along to the song again. the boys followed your lead, neither of them saying a word, only falling into rhythm with you. 

with yunho pressed to your backside and mingi flushed against your front, you felt like you could let go, let your inhibitions run rampant between the two sturdy men who could easily take care of you. you pulled mingi down towards your face with the arms wrapped around his neck, you were met with no resistance as your lips connected once more. 

yunho drank from his beer as he kept his other hand secured on your hip, watching the scene unfold in front of him with darkened eyes. it was hot, watching a girl he just met make out with his best friend while her ass pressed against his cock so deliciously, grinding against him to the beat of the song. he was salivating, his beer washing down the desire he felt from head to toe, fingers gripping harder the longer you kissed. 

yours and mingi’s tongues danced again, fighting for dominance, neither of you unaware of the man that stood right behind you. the slight ache of yunho’s grip on your hip made you whimper into mingi’s mouth, mingi’s own hand lifting up to your waist. his thumb circled at the small space between your top and your skirt, feeling the softness of your skin, the heat that transferred from you to himself. 

you broke away from mingi and glanced behind you, noticing yunho’s lustful stare, his eyes low and clouded. you glanced to his lips and he agreed without a word, leaning forward to catch your awaiting lips with his own. 

mingi huffed at the contact between you and yunho, thumb slipping inside the hem of your top, wanting to keep his hands on you as you kissed his best friend. he pressed himself closer, keeping the growing tent in his jeans away from watchful eyes, suddenly very aware of what the three of you were doing in a packed club. 

“we should go,” mingi’s voice is hoarse as he speaks, “i mean, if you guys want to take this elsewhere.” 

you break away from yunho and nod, scared that the wetness between your legs will start dripping down your thighs if you don’t do something about it. you bring the rest of your drink to your lips, chugging three quarters of it down, the twin cowboys doing the same. you placed your glasses on the bar on your way out, the three of you nearly racing out of the club and back onto the street of broadway. 

“i’m staying at an airbnb a block away,” you decide, leading them in the direction of your place, not giving them the option of going anywhere else. 

as you walked off the busy street the two of them grabbed both of your hands on either side of you, their long legs making you have to walk twice as fast to keep up with them. you arrived quickly, messing up the door code not once but twice in anticipation, giving the code to yunho who punched in the numbers with a cool, calculated head. 

the living room had a few underage sisters still lingering, all who watched you with the two men with eyes that bulged out of their heads, but yet no one said a word. you gave them a small wave and a meek smile before you dragged the boys up the staircase, finally arriving at your bedroom which was a wreck after two days of getting ready. 

mingi hopped on the bed quickly, manspreading with his feet planted on the floor, an invitation for you to sit on his lap. 

“we should talk about this first,” yunho interrupted and both you and mingi simultaneously whined, you stopped in your tracks before hopping on mingi’s lap. 

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” yunho raised his hands in defense, “but we’ve all been drinking and i want this to be a good experience for all three of us.” 

“i want this,” you interjected with a finger, “i started it.” 

“i also want this,” mingi nodded in agreement, hands readjusting his jeans, “was hoping the night would end this way when i first laid eyes on you, doll.” 

you giggled, your body immediately moving to crawl onto his lap, making yourself comfortable on the spot he just readjusted. 

“hold on, little lady,” yunho came up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders, “you sure? what do you want from this?” 

your head craned upward to look at yunho who stood over you, the crown of your head touching his chest as he towered over your figure that was spread across mingi’s lap. “i’m sure yunho, i wanna be taken care of, want you, want both of you.” 

you glanced down to mingi with the last part and that lopsided smirk returned to his lips as he leaned forward to finally kiss you. yunho interrupted with fingers wrapped around your throat before mingi got the pleasure, tilting your head upward to look at him once again. he leaned down to kiss you, upside down from his position behind you, and you involuntarily ground your hips into mingi. mingi groaned, his head tipping back, watching you kiss yunho. 

“don’t be afraid to tell us to stop if it gets to be too much, okay? you know the color system?” he says as soon as he breaks away from the kiss, moving his head so you were looking into his eyes that have gotten impossibly darker. you nodded and he let go, letting you stretch your neck side to side before you nearly pounced on mingi. 

you attached your lips to the first cowboy, all teeth and spit and tongue, no time to waste as your hands snuck up to the short tufts of hair that were peeking out of his hat, tugging at it. mingi groaned, his hips bucking into you from beneath you, his hands roaming across your thighs. you ground your hips into him, the bulge in his jeans dragging against your clothed clit just right, working your hips into a rhythm. 

you felt the bed dip beside you, remembering yunho was here too, you reached for him with a weak arm. he ignored your hand completely as he pulled your hair over to one shoulder again, leaving the whole side of your neck open, indulging himself in licking up the faint saltiness of sweat on your skin. you moaned into mingi’s mouth from the contact, the stimulation from his cock grinding up into you and yunho’s hot tongue running along your shoulder. 

you broke away from mingi’s mouth, continuing your assault on his lap while yunho licked up the base of your neck, making your head fall to the side so he could suck on your jaw, left hand coming up behind you to unzip your top. you and mingi filled the room with sweet sounds of pleasure, working yourselves on each other, his hands coming up to guide your hips against him. 

“fuck, mingi,” you cursed, your eyes fluttering shut as your top fell to the sheets, missing the widening of the twins eyes, how mingi’s tongue lolled out of his mouth at the sight. 

you felt the pit in your stomach start to build and fast, but it was ripped away from you even faster as yunho scooped you off of mingi’s lap and threw you on the bed behind him. you whined at the loss of contact, your skirt slipping up to your waist at the movement, nothing but your chest and your lacy black thong visible to the cowboys. 

“my turn,” yunho’s declaration was nasty as he attached his lips to yours again, body completely enveloping yours on top of the sheets that you left in disarray. you moaned into him as his hands fled to your chest, thumbs circling over the hardened peaks, making you arch into his touch, legs wrapping around his torso. 

mingi stripped himself of his hat, shirt and boots before he crawled next to the two of you on the bed, an arm sliding between yours and yunho’s bodies, slipping his fingers into your panties. 

you cried out a fuck into yunho’s mouth, the rest of the house be damned as mingi used his ring finger and began circling your clit. you broke the kiss as your head fell back into the mattress, digging into it, your chest arching up into yunho’s as mingi dipped his finger further down, dragging your slick up and down your folds. 

“so fucking wet,” mingi said under his breath, eyes focused on his own fingertip that was slipping in and out of you, barely breaking the line of his first knuckle. you couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, the only word forming in your head was the continuous chant of more. 

“please put it inside, please don’t tease,” you whined, head turning to plead with mingi, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. yunho kissed down your neck and throat, licking the column, covering the area in his spit and all you could do was moan. 

mingi’s smile turned devilish, not a singular ounce of sympathy in his beautiful face. a rush of something fled through you as the dynamic changed in the room, mingi’s sweet, playful energy turned taunting, “you like it when i play with your pretty pussy, doll? hm?” 

your eyes rolled into the back of your head at his words and his finger that was slowly inching deeper, each stroke of the thick digit went further yet still not giving you its entire length, leaving you unsatisfied and impatient but utterly fucked out. 

yunho chuckled as he leaned backward, unhooking your legs from around his waist. your legs stayed spread around his hips as he sat on his haunches, taking one hand to move your panties to the side, watching as mingi’s finger that was covered in your slick barely moved in and out of your center. yunho had changed too, that cool, clear headed energy he filled the room with had turned dominant and powerful, it sent a shiver up your spine. 

he bit his lip as his eyes lowered in focus, “you were right ming, such a pretty fucking pussy.” 

your back arched again, hips bucking into mingi’s finger that still wasn’t giving you enough stimulation. mingi smiled at you through lowered eyes as you thrashed on the bed, bucking your hips even though it was doing nothing. 

“so antsy, what a needy girl,” mingi tsked, shaking his head as he watched you, fingers still not letting up from their unsatisfactory attempt of pleasuring you. 

“here, little lady,” yunho said as if he’d help while he brought his other hand to your center, thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit, using very little to no pressure. you were gonna lose your fucking mind. 

tears welled up in your eyes as the twin cowboys watched with amusement, enjoying your frustration before you brought your hand down to yunho’s wrist, opting to force more pressure from his hand if he wasn’t going to give it to you willingly. it was the only option left, they were getting a kick out of your misery, out of your begging — it was the wrong move, and it turned you on even more. 

yunho gasped as he pulled his hand away right before you could wrap your little fingers around his wrist, mingi following suit, leaving you empty and without any stimulation at all. you cried out, eyes squeezing shut, hips chasing their hands. 

“what was that?” yunho asked in disbelief while you stayed silent, eyes opening to small crescents, tears spilling from your mascara coated lashes. 

his head turned to mingi who responded, “i think that was the doll trying to fuck herself. seems she doesn’t need us at all.” 

mingi’s tightened lips pulled to the side, a disappointed look on his face when yunho responded, “i think you might be right again, ming. you don’t need us, little lady? you wanna fuck yourself? thought you wanted us to take care of you.” 

his words were taunting, mocking, the inflection of his voice did nothing but make the tears flow faster. they had definitely done this before, there were already too many moments where they read each other, knowing what the other was going to do next for this to be their first threesome, you were the naïve one here. you nodded, bobbing your head with fervor, a silent plea for them to just give in, give you what you needed.

“beg for it,” his words were vile, venom as he spat them off his tongue. a wicked smile followed yunho’s order, his hands sliding to your thighs to your hips to take control of your lower half. 

“need you to take care of me, please,” you were immediate in your plea, looking between the two men who wore sardonic faces, their smiles twisted. “need both of you so bad, want you inside me.” 

mingi leaned forward and wiped your tears from your cheeks, the sympathetic glint in his eye did not match the evil smile planted on his lips, “what’s that you sang to me earlier? save a horse and what?” 

“i think it’s save a horse and ride a cowboy,” yunho finished for mingi, pretending he had to rack his brain for the answer, just stalling for more time to look at your naked body spread out in front of him. 

mingi nodded in remembrance, the scene of you grabbing his hat and placing it on your own head playing out in his mind. he flipped over on the bed to his back, knees bent up as he looked over to you, “well? what are you waiting for?” 

you jumped. you scrambled over to lap, kneeling over him as you unbuckled his belt and he laughed, “so eager, doll. can’t wait, can you? no patience at all?” 

you shook your head, eyes completely glazed over as you unzipped his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles. he kicked them off with ease as you took in the size of him, eyes widening and a gasp leaving your lips at the sheer length he’d somehow kept hidden in his jeans. 

mingi chuckled before he turned his attention to yunho, “wait til she sees you.” yunho immediately smiled with a short nod, zeroed in on you spitting onto mingi’s length, spreading it with a manicured hand. 

you couldn’t hear him, too focused on the voice in your head screaming how the hell you were gonna fit him inside of you? you ignored your worry and kept your focus on him, figuring that you could at least try and take him in your mouth before you fit him inside. 

“there you go,” mingi cooed as you bent down to pepper kitten licks across his leaking tip, spreading the saliva that was pooling in your mouth down his length. you finally took what you could in your mouth, tongue massaging against the underside, hands pumping what your mouth couldn’t fit. mingi immediately groaned, his hand flying to tangle in your hair, not pushing your head but leaving the weight of his palm as a reminder that he could. 

yunho undressed himself off to the side, sitting back to watch, hand wrapped around his length as he pumped himself at the scene playing out in front of him. he always lets mingi go first, get the initial stretch out of the way so he could have an easier time slipping inside you. they had a method, the twin cowboys, a routine they’d used every time they found themselves sharing the same bed with a partner. you might have started this, but they fell into pattern the moment they realized where tonight was headed. 

you took mingi down in your throat, gagging around him, eyes filled with tears once more as you took him impossibly further. mingi’s eyes were screwed shut, moans falling from his lips, hips involuntarily bucking up into your throat with his fingers tangled in your hair. 

“so fucking good, doll, keep going,” his words slurred, voice low and hoarse as he tried to open his eyes to steal a peek at you. he failed, the view made the feeling overwhelming, you’re too good, too pretty, he felt a pit in his stomach forming and he could not allow that to happen just yet. his fingers pulled at the roots of your hair and lifted you off of him with a pop, his own mouth hanging open at the sight of your fucked out face. 

he pulled you up to his lips by your hair, kissing you roughly, once again all teeth and tongue. you whimpered into his mouth, reaching for his cock again and he bucked his hips into your grip on him. 

“ride me, need you,” he said into your lips between kisses, that raspy voice sending another wave of heat through your body.

“color?” a voice called from the side of the bed and you called green to the air, not even bothering to look over to the taller cowboy who asked the question, too engrossed in mingi’s slick, angry cock laying across his pelvis.

you swung your leg over his lap, spit onto your palm and gave mingi one last pump of lubrication before you lined yourself up over his length. you caught the taller cowboy in the corner of your eye, his hand was still, squeezing the base of his cock and your mouth went dry from what you saw out of your peripherals. 

“fuck yunho,” your eyebrows furrowed together as you finally looked over at him, another worry slithering up your spine, making you pause in your ministrations, locking up your joints. he was leaned back, chiseled abdomen clenched as he edged himself, head tipped back and knuckles white from the pressure of the squeeze around the base of his cock. he looked so fucking sexy you almost moaned from the view, but the fear remained, mingi was big but yunho was bigger, massive even as his cock curved toward him past his belly button. 

mingi gave you a light slap to your pussy making you gasp before you turned to face him. “eyes on me doll, i’m the one fucking you, not him.”

you nodded and tried to refresh your focus, regain your train of thought, lining him up with your center but you couldn’t relax as you tried to split yourself open on him. muscles locked, joints stiff, even mingi’s delicious length had you a little nervous despite every nerve begging you to sit the fuck down. 

yunho picked up on it, sliding from his spot beside you to slip behind you, planting kisses along on your shoulder and both hands on your hips. you relaxed in his touch, head leaning back on his shoulder, your own shoulders slumping.

“you can do it, little lady,” he encouraged, guiding your hips down onto mingi, “there you go, baby, relax for me, hm?”

you moaned at the stretch and yunho’s words, trying to relax your core, letting your head get a little fuzzy so you didn’t tighten around him and just sank. mingi moaned, a strained, languid noise as he felt you wrap around him, a delicious squeeze as you took him further. 

his hands sat on top of yunho’s as his eyes screwed shut, moaning his words in pleasure as much as he was encouraging, “yes, doll, take this dick.” 

the two men pulled you down further, guiding you, encouraging you to let go. a guttural moan broke out of you as you bottomed out, sitting flush against mingi. he let out a sigh of relief. 

“really thought you panicked after seeing yun,” mingi said with a laugh as you sat for a moment, enduring the stretch, embracing it. 

“i did,” you admitted and you heard a breath of amusement leave yunho's lips behind you. “you guys should’ve warned me!” 

“how were we supposed to warn you? hey i know you want to fuck us but just so you know we have massive cocks? that’s insane, we’d never get laid,” mingi replied and you laughed at that, almost as if he weren’t buried inside of you.

“valid,” you replied and you could feel yunho’s grip on your hips pulling your body upward, telling you to move without actually saying anything. you and mingi both moaned at the friction, you could feel every inch of him inside of you, every vein rubbing against your walls. 

“color?” yunho asked from behind you, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips as he guided you downwards again, keeping a slowed pace.

“green,” your voice was breathless and your eyes screwed shut, brain going fuzzy again knowing that yunho was fucking you onto his best friend’s cock. it made you feel like a doll, a plaything, and it was so fucking hot. 

“yes,” mingi whispered as you picked up speed, bouncing on him now, gaining enough strength of your own instead of relying on yunho’s. you lurched forward and your hands pressed against mingi’s sculpted abdomen, using it as leverage to bounce your hips, to gain a rhythm. 

yunho leaned back, hand wrapping around himself again as he watched you fuck mingi, a beautiful view of the back of you bouncing along his length. 

“so fucking sexy,” yunho’s voice was low and sultry, music to your ears and you moaned in response, eyebrows furrowing, that pit in your stomach growing again. yunho noticed your thighs twitch and your rhythm stagger, he was quick to sit on his knees again, wrapping an arm around your hips to attach his fingers to your clit. 

“yes! yes keep going,” you chanted, using the strength of your thighs instead of learning forward against mingi’s abdomen, giving yunho easier access to rub quick circles on your clit. 

“so fucking good doll, taking me so well,” mingi’s hands ran up your thighs as you bounced, his eyebrows fixed together, jaw dropped in pleasure. 

he was hitting every spot so deep, close to touching your cervix from how far he was inside of you. his hands leaned up and kneaded your tits, massaging your nipples between his fingers, pushing your boobs together, slack jawed from the sight in front of him.

“yes, cum on this cock,” the rasp to his voice was so hot, he felt his own orgasm approaching quickly, he needed you to cum first.

yunho circled your clit impossibly quicker and brought his lips to your neck again and you lost it, creaming around mingi, your bounces becoming erratic as you finished on him with a loud cry. mingi quickly brought his hands back to your hips, fucking you onto him through your orgasm, keeping you at a pace to get him past the finish line. 

“inside,” you mumbled through heavy breaths, “cum inside me baby, please mingi, wanna feel it, wanna be full of you.” 

mingi lost it at that, hips bucking up into you until he lost it, too. he finished inside you with a loud groan, his hips slowing, overstimulating himself until he came to a stop. 

like they had a routine, mingi gave himself a moment to catch his breath as yunho lifted you off his length, mingi pulling his body up the bed until his back was against the headboard. you gasped at their quick movements, you were hoping for at least a minute to recover.

“my turn,” he repeated the same words from earlier as he flipped you, laying you down against mingi’s broad chest, kissing you sweetly as his hands raked over your body. 

“say red if you need to stop, okay?” he looked up to you, eyes staring deep into your own so you knew he was being serious. you nodded and he smiled, kissing you again, taking a minute to get lost in your mouth as his hand traveled to your center that had just been pumped full moments prior. 

he let his fingers slip up and down your folds and you gasped, hips immediately bucking at the contact. 

“too sensitive,” you whined, grabbing mingi’s hands that were laid at your sides. 

“gonna take care of you little lady, don’t worry,” yunho didn’t even look up as he spoke, eyes glazed over as he watched his fingers slip through the flood, the mixture of yours and mingi’s release coating his long digits. 

yunho laid down on the mattress, face centimeters from your center and you panicked. is he doing… what you think he’s about to do? he planted a quick kiss to your clit and your head shot back against mingi’s shoulder, a whine leaving your lips from the quick contact, only getting louder as yunho’s tongue dragged from your overstimulated clit to your full hole. 

he spit on it, getting his own liquids in the mix, a concoction of the three of you that was messily spread onto your pussy. it was hot as much as it was embarrassing, you couldn’t live in the discomfort for any longer than a second as the pleasure overtook it.

“shit,” your moan was dragged out as yunho ate mingi’s cum out of you, you watched him lick, you watched him swallow, you watched as he dug his face farther into you when your hips involuntarily bucked into him. 

he took one of his hands that was pressing your thighs to the side and brought it to your center, circling his middle finger around your entrance, slipping the tip of it inside. 

“not this again,” you whined and yunho chuckled against you, sending vibrations through your entire body before he slipped the entire finger inside. 

you cried out, back arching, nails digging into mingi’s hands as you chanted thankyouthankyouthankyou into the air. he added another finger, scissoring them inside of you, curling them up to hit the spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars. 

the pit grew again, that tight band that threatened to snap dangerously quick. yunho kept the pace of his tongue against your clit, a brutal rhythm, one begging you to cum all over his face. 

“go ahead doll, cum,” mingi said in your ear, voice still low and hoarse and strung, it was music to your ears. you let the band snap, hips jerking against yunho’s face but he let you ride it out, let you come down before he came up for air. 

“no one’s ever done that before,” you admitted the second yunho was in earshot, still shocked and slightly embarrassed by what he had just done you began babbling. “well, i’ve never had a threesome before so no one’s really had the opportunity to.” 

both yunho and mingi’s heads snapped to look at one another before they looked back at you. yunho’s eyes were wide as he spoke, “this- we are your first threesome? why didn’t you say that?!” 

“why would i tell you that?” you asked in the same shocked tone, chest still heaving from your orgasm. 

“it’s the same reason we didn’t tell you we were packing,” mingi replied from behind you, chest vibrating into your back, “you were scared we’d say no.” 

“we wouldn’t of said no,” yunho interjected as he sat back up on his haunches, throwing your legs around his hips again as he lined himself up, “we just would’ve been nicer, more gentle.” 

“too late for that, put it in,” you were quick in your response, eyes flying to yunho’s cock, making mingi chuckle beneath you. 

yunho lined himself up before he paused again, making you whine and answer him before he had the chance to speak, “i’m green and impatient, i’ll tell you if it hurts. put it in.” 

he smiled before he pushed himself in, face contorting as he was greeted with resistance, but not enough to make him concerned. your eyebrows twisted, eyes closing at the stretch, still a discomfort after coming twice so far.

mingi let go of your hands and brought one finger to your clit, the other hand tweaking at your nipple, trying to make the pleasure outweigh the discomfort. you moaned, a strangled but sweet noise, the stretch was intoxicating. 

yunho sheathed himself inside of you and groaned, his head falling forward, leaning his forehead against yours. 

“still so fucking tight little lady, gotta open up for me or i’m gonna cum,” his voice was low, his breath labored as you tried your best to relax again. 

“yeah, just like that, there we go,” he noticed the release of your core and began rocking himself into you, small grunts turning into louder moans the faster his thrusts became. 

mingi kept up the pace of his fingers with yunho’s thrusts making the pleasure almost blinding, so overstimulating you felt your head go fuzzy again, tongue lolling out of your mouth, your senses leaving you. 

“perfect little pussy taking me so good,” yunho praised, only sending you further into whatever headspace you’d entered. you didn’t even know what sounds were leaving you as yunho’s thrusts became relentless, fucking into you at a speed that had you seeing stars again, your head falling lifelessly onto mingi’s shoulder. the pit in your stomach returned and you wondered how it was possible for the two of them to make you cum nearly three times in one night. 

“yunho, so fucking big,” you tried to muster but your babbles had become incoherent as you grabbed onto mingi’s forearms, nails clawing at the soft skin, stuck between wanting him to stop and wanting him to rub your clit faster, your orgasm right on the brink of crashing over you again. 

your hips started fucking back onto him and your prayers were answered, your cries ascending to almost screams as your stomach snapped again, so loud the twin cowboys were hoping those girls in the living room had left. 

“fuck yes, cum on this cock. give me another,” yunho ordered, hands wrapping around your hips again, pulling you into him harshly. his brain seemed to have gone elsewhere also, the dominance returning, the powerful energy he’d surrounded the space with earlier. 

“again?” you cried, hands coming up to claw at yunho’s forearms instead, “i can’t!” 

“yes you can, baby, cum again. give me another, wanna feel you cum around me,” he was as mindless as you are, eyes empty as he fucked into you at a dangerous pace. 

mingi’s hand slid up your torso and his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing ever so slightly but just enough, the loss of air causing that pit of pleasure to grow again. yunho smiled, a devilish one while his hand came to circle your clit, tipping you over the edge. 

“yes baby, fuck yes, so good for me,” yunho praised as you came around him, the clench of your pussy only aiding his own release. 

“such a good girl,” mingi cooed, grabbing your hands again, kissing your cheek to soothe your now twitching body. yunho only got out three, four, five more pumps inside you before he was emptying himself, coming down to stilling his movements. 

you caught your breath for a second, pussy still pulsing around him, feeling so utterly spent. yunho pulled out and collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, hands dangling atop his chest. 

“color?” yunho asked, that kind smile on his face as he turned to you. 

“green,” you responded, your voice raspy, “but you can’t fuck me again. i won’t be able to handle cumming again for another, like, three days.” 

the twins both laughed at that, mingi pecking small kisses to your cheek before he asked, “should we shower?” 

the three of you showered, all of you resembling something like zombies as you all shared the same vanilla coconut body wash. you went back downstairs after that for food and water, all dressed in white robes the airbnb provided, and the girls that were in the living room earlier were all still there, faces bright red. 

“wanna watch a movie?” you asked the room, the twin cowboys still behind you, and the girls reluctantly agreed, only receiving shy nods of their heads.  the three of you sat on the massive sectional surrounded by your sisters in their pinkest pajamas, with cozy robes and towels twisted around your heads. you ate popcorn, watched once upon a time in the west, and fell asleep with your limbs entangled, cozied up in the fluffiest blankets with two cowboys that’d go down in history in your sorority’s legendary spring break stories.

[giuliettagaltieri]

Not Her Man

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Childhood friend!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Feathers fall gracefully slow

Warning: Girlrotting

Word Count: 3193

Part 1 • Part 3

You were always scared to do drugs.  

You saw Rafe at his highs, you were with him, keeping him from doing anything stupid like when he was so sure he could backflip from Tanneyhill’s rooftop and land on the grass perfectly. 

But you also wondered how difficult it was for him to get clean.  To suffer from withdrawals.  And as you lie on your fur carpet, staring at the glimmering crystals of your chandelier, with your closet half emptied and scattered all around your room, along with rolling wine bottles on the polished hardwood floor of your bedroom, you think you might have understood just a little.

Blocking him was the hardest thing you have ever done in your life, especially when it was your routine to giggle over whatever interaction you had through text that day.  The itch to open his account for any update made you want to bind your hands together.

Your parents are out of the country, busy overseeing their business, forgetting to oversee their daughter.  Your maids were there for you, at least they try to be.  They bring you food on schedule, even sliding in a few scoops of ice cream every now and then in your room when your sobs start to echo around the halls.

Rafe tried to contact you multiple times.  First, through your phone, but you blocked him.  Next, he tried to throw pebbles at your window, but your seventy-six year old gardener fired a shotgun at him, thinking that he was a burglar.  Next, he tried a different approach, he was sending you gigantic bouquets of your favorite flowers, making the hallway leading to your room look like a wedding set up, the flowers perfumed the entire house too, drawing a concerning amount of bees.  One epipen to your chef’s thigh later, Rafe stops sending them.

He never really does anything right.  All he does is mess up, create more problems for himself.  You almost wanted to give in, but you remind yourself of the things he said.  Anger and hurt quickly replaces pity.

A familiar chime of your phone had you groaning.  Your friends are probably going to have another attempt of making you step out of your room, like inviting you to have your nails done or shop, just to get your mind off of Rafe.

You just let the ringtone end and you go back to staring at the chandelier, wondering if you’ll be quick enough to get out of the way if it somehow falls.  Before you can plan a strategic roll, your phone rings again.

Blindly reaching underneath the scattered pillows, you finally locate the buzzing device.  You answer without looking at the caller ID. 

“Y/N speaking.”  You mumble lazily.

“Hey, girlie.”  There goes the high-pitched voice of your friend.  “Sooo, the girls and I-hush!”  You hear a bunch of girls giggling behind the line and your brows crease together in annoyance.  “We’re going on a party tonight and we’re thinking that maybe you’d liketocomewithus?”

You play with the lace of your dress, eyes just following the patterns when you hear your name being called again over the phone.

“I’m not in the mood for parties.” 

“You are never in the mood for anything anymore.”  She whines behind the line.  Her tone prompts you to sit up to pick up the stale wine you left out in the open for too long.  Taking a sip and ignoring the thin coat of dust it caught after you ransacked your closet for something that made you look confident, only for you to end up squeezing in the dress that Rafe got you as a present for your 13th birthday.  He didn’t pick it out for you, of course, but it still made you all fizzy and bubbly and excited inside.

You put down the wine to scratch at the waistband that is digging on the skin of your under bust, the fabric being stretched beyond its capacity.

“I know.”  You tried to sound apologetic.  “I just can’t, okay?”

She sighs, making you let out a grateful sigh.  There’s still some ceiling viewing you had to get back to.

“I’m picking you up at seven.”  She speaks with finality and before you can answer, she continues.  “Please don’t let that awful man get the satisfaction of knowing that he has this much effect on you.”  You can hear her begging behind the phone.  She and the other girls are just looking out for you.

With an unwilling heart, you decide to get on your feet, your socked foot nearly slipping the moment it touches the wooden floor.  Cursing, you finally crouch on the piled up clothes you threw earlier. 

“Fine, I’ll come.”  You roll your eyes.  “Dresscode?”

You hear an airy chuckle and you can imagine her pinching your cheeks if you were within her reach.  “Party’s open to all, Kooks or Pogues.  In the community beach house.  You dress however you like.  I’ll match your vibe, if you’d like.”

This makes a smile creep on your lips.  She’s definitely on the top 10 list of the most annoying people you know but you thank God everyday for a friend like her.  “You know I love you, right?”

She snorts before bursting out in a fit of laughter.  “Duh.  I love you too.”

“See you later.”  You grin.  “Tell the girls I’m coming too.”

“Sure, see you!” 

You hang up and get started on searching for the right outfit.  Well, there’s the classic white flowy dresses, but everybody wears them.  You could wear a short and a cute top, show some belly?  Blech, you’re not exactly in one of your maneater moods.  But perhaps if you covered it with that oversized white pinstriped polo, it could work?  Yeah, something casual yet put together.  It’s not like you’re dressing to impress anybody, or somebody in particular, you’d prioritize comfort over fashion tonight.

A knock on your bedroom door pulls you from your thoughts.  With a shrug, you throw your chosen clothes on your bed.

“Coming.”  You call while trudging over to open the door.  There stood your maid, she was looking anxious, wringing her wrinkly hands.  “What is it?”

She glances at your odd choice of clothing before she looks away so as to not make you uncomfortable.  “Well, uhm, Sir Cameron is here again, miss.  He’s waiting for you downstairs, in the drawing room.”

You press your lips in a firm line.  “Tell him I’m not here.”

Your maid smiles apologetically.  “He…he saw you in your bedroom window before he came in, miss.”

Huffing, you tap your feet impatiently.  “Just tell him I’m busy.”

“He said you’ll say that.”  She mutters, amusement in her tone.  “And he asked us to tell you that he can wait.”

You close your eyes to keep them from rolling.  “Whatever, he can stay as long as he likes, but I’m not coming down to meet him.”  You push the door a little wider and your maid’s eyes widen at the state of your room.  “I’m sorry, I know you’re busy but can you help me clean up?”

The rest of the afternoon was spent tidying up your room. 

It was dark out, a couple of minutes past seven when your phone buzzed.  Knowing that it’s your girlfriends, you pick your bag, filled with the usual party necessities and head downstairs.  It’s a habit, assigning yourself as the responsible friend who stays sober to look after the others.

You are slipping in the pearl bracelet your grandmother got for you last Christmas when you hear your name being called and in instinct, you turn around.

“Oh, right.”  You say with a tone that is drier than the Sahara desert.  “You’re here.”

Rafe’s standing just outside your drawing room, his hands falling to his side.

“Yeah.”  He spoke awkwardly, his eyes glancing at your outfit, familiarity crossing them before he looked at your eyes again.  “I was waiting for you.”

You exhale softly and he just stood there, waiting for your reaction.

“I know.”  You say simply.  “Gotta go.”  You start walking again to your door.

“Wait, Y/N.” He easily catches up.  “You’re…you’re coming to the party, right?”  He asks hopefully.

“Yes.”  You respond without looking at him.

Rafe smiles but it quickly dissipates when he sees a different car waiting for you.  “Hold on, I can drive you there.”  He says quickly, his hand gripping yours just to get you to listen to him.  “I can drive you to the party.”  He says in an uncharacteristically sheepish way.

For a second, you look at him, really look at him.  His smile grows wide.  He missed having your eyes on him.  You’re his best friend, and he’s used to doing everything with you by his side.  He also liked how dependent you were on him too, always asking for his approval.  You have a bit of an overbearing attitude but he would be lying if he’ll say that he doesn’t miss you doting on him too.  Perhaps you’re not the only one who’s dependent on this odd friendship you both have.

“No, thank you.”  You say before pulling your hand away with a sharp look thrown his way.  He watches you walk away to greet your friends.  He’s still stuck there, staring, even after the car drives away.

He doesn’t understand it.

You’re the emotional one, why are you doing so well without him?  You never go to parties with other people, it was always him that you stick close to.  Clinging on him, pulling him to the dance floor when he’s about to do a line of coke, or accidentally knocking his cup when he’s had too much drinks.

Running a hand through his face, Rafe decides to hop on his car and follow you to the party.  You’ll be in the same space as him in the next few hours.  He’ll get another chance there.  He’s certain of it.

He didn’t get the chance.

With you by his side all the time, you memorized his set of activities at parties and you evaded him perfectly.  Rafe decided that it was best to stand by the punch table.  You’d get thirsty eventually, and he’ll be there waiting if you do.

On the other side of the house, farthest from Rafe, there you sit by the porch swing, admiring the push and pull of the waves.  The party was at its climax and everybody was cramped inside the house, dancing and drinking, or doing unholy activities.  You don’t know how you managed to slip away from your friends but you’re glad you did.  You needed the fresh air.

You’re just starting to get comfortable when a man stumbles out the door.  You watch him struggle to keep himself up.  He looked lost? Or just flat out drunk.  You watch in amusement as he scratches his blonde head, he must be having a whiplash from all the blinding neon lights inside and suddenly his vision switches to the bright light provided by the LEDs. 

His feet twist and he starts to fall to the side, your head tilting to follow his fall.  You wince when you hear the loud thud of his body hitting the floor, followed by his muffled but loud groaning.

“Motherfu-”  He sits on the floor, his legs sprawled out in front of him as he shakes his head like a dog.

“You alright, JJ?”  You chuckle.

He whips his head to you, cursing again when his vision spins.  “Y/N?”  He drawls out while rubbing his eyes.  “You saw everything?”

Still laughing, you get up to crouch next to him.  “I did.”  You smile when he groans out again.  “Are you okay?”

He props up a knee and rests an arm there, he looks buzzed, his eyes are heavily lidded as he stares off into the ocean.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  He glances at you.  “Well, this is a strange sight.”

“What is?”  You mumble as you look away from him, deciding to play dumb.

He shrugs animatedly, hands gesturing to you and the entire space of the porch.  “Usually, wherever you are, your boyfriend is not that far behind.”  He points a thumb behind him.  “And if I wasn’t imagining it, I’m pretty sure I just saw him brooding over the drinks.”

You chuckle dryly as you bring your knees to your chest.  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

JJ looks at you with an unimpressed face.  “That’s all you heard.”

Playfully punching his shoulder, you sigh.  “We fought.”

He frowns, back straightening immediately.  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”  It’s kind of sweet how your words seemed to have sobered him really quick.

“No!  No, he didn’t.”  You reply right away.  “Well, at least not physically.”

You watch him grimace.  “Outside physical fights, I have little to no idea how to respond.”

“That’s okay, JJ.  I don’t wanna talk about it, anyway.”

He gives you a boyish grin, as if to reassure you before scratching at his jaw, your eyes mindlessly follow his movements and you see a scratch.

“You’re hurt.”  You tell him, pointing at your own jaw.

“Huh?”  He touches his jaw and winces.  “Ow!  Must’ve scratched myself when I…uhm.”

“When you decided to attack the floor.”  You finish for him and he clears his throat.  “You’ll have to disinfect it.”

“Pfft, it’s fine.”  He shakes his head.  “It’s just a scratch.”

But you are already grabbing your bag by the swing and you return with a small kit.

“I forgot to bring wipes.”  You mumble before crouching down in front of him.  He swallows at your close proximity.  “Come on, JJ.  It’s just antibacterial cream.”

He hesitantly shows you his face and you gently apply the cream, tutting when he dramatically pulls away.

You grab his face and tilt it slightly and JJ squeezes his eyes.

“It fucking stings.”  He nearly whines, making you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be a baby!”  You huff and he stays still for a second, allowing you to smear the cream evenly and he rolls away from you as soon as you’re done.

JJ was muttering about God knows what while you’re busy putting your stuff away.  When you sit next to him again, he’s much calmer, a lazy smile back on his face again.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You throw him a playful glare.  “You’re welcome.”

He touches the scratch and you almost tell him off but he quickly pulls his hand away. 

“Why didn’t Cameron make you his girl?”

You blow out a big sigh.  “He doesn’t like me.”

“Bullshit.”  He laughs but he clears his throat when you look at him unamused.  “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”  You smile at him genuinely before averting your eyes.  “I wouldn’t blame him.  I mean, you saw how I can be.”  You chuckle this time but there’s no humor on JJ’s face, he’s looking at you rather sadly.  “I care too much and everybody suffocates around me.”

“I don’t.”  He says quickly.  “I was just being dramatic earlier.”  He rubs his nape.  “I’m not used to having people tend to me, I mostly just do it myself.”  He seeks your eyes and you finally look at him. 

You hear a creak behind you but before you can look, JJ cups your face to keep you from breaking your eye contact, making your breath hitch.

“I liked being taken care of like that.”  He whispers and your lips part slightly.

“JJ.”  You say breathlessly and he grins, his face leaning dangerously close to you.  “You’re drunk.”

He gently bites his bottom lip and you have to look away from his blatant flirting.  “I’m sober enough to kiss, I promise.”

This…this isn’t right.  

You gently push him away and his lips immediately form a pout.  “You’re such a kid, JJ.”

He clicks his tongue and angrily stoops as he glares at the ocean.  “You had no idea how long it took me to build the courage to do that.”

“Five minutes?”  You jokingly bump his shoulders, making his act break at the edges, a smile threatening to crack on his lips.  “Seriously, J, I can’t kiss drunk guys.  It’s unethical.”

He mimics you in a childish voice and buries his face on his palms harshly.  He turns to you again, with his hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead and red blotches appearing on some areas of his face.  “I’m not as drunk as you think I am.”  The way he glances at your lips had your throat drying up.  “I really wanted to kiss you.”  Aside from Rafe, you have little to no experience with the male attention and frankly, you don’t know what to do.

You place a hand on his shoulder and stiffly pat it twice.  “You’ll get over it.”

JJ looks at you exasperatedly.  “You’re taking this too lightly, this is my feelings we are talking about.”

You stifle a laughter.  “Oh, so you have feelings for me.”  You raise a brow at him and he nods his head enthusiastically.

“Every guy on this island has a thing for you.”  He says animatedly.  “If it wasn’t for your bodyguard, we would have made our move long ago.”

You are deeply flattered, you can’t resist the girlish smile from tugging on your lips, your cheeks slowly heating up.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

He looks deeply offended and places a hand on his chest.

“You’re the ultimate dream girl, stupid!”  He dodges a punch from you.  “You’re like the total package.  You’re sweet, and smart, you’re also very pretty, you can be funny too when you let loose.”  He wiggles his eyebrows at you and this pulls a laughter from you, a real, genuine laughter that had your shoulders shaking.

“When are you gonna get serious, J?”  Wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, you get up.  “Wait here, I’ll get us a drink.”

He gives you a two finger salute before lying smack down on the floor, with his arms spread out.  You shake your head, chuckling when you open the door.

And your hair stands on end.

There stood the very person you have been avoiding the entire night.

But for once, he isn’t wearing a scowl or a condescending cocky smile.

He was looking at you like a man defeated and broken.

“Rafe.”  You whisper as you reach for him but you stop yourself before your skin can touch.  He looks at your hand and then your eyes.  You don’t know if it’s the trick of light but you could have sworn his eyes are glassy.

“Hey, Y/N, everything alright?”  JJ calls.

Rafe glances at JJ and then back at you, he nods slowly as he takes a step back.  Your heart aches as you watch him take another step away from you but you will yourself not to follow.  He runs a hand on his mouth and he turns away from you.

You stare at his back as he leaves, torn between choosing your own pride or running after him.  For what seemed like hours, you stood there, frozen.  Still lost in the onslaught of emotions that surged through you.

Not Your Girl • His Girl

[hoe4hotchner]

Hiii!! Could you do another non bau rich fem!reader where she gave Aaron lots of designer stuff and he starts wearing them to work? Like maybe ties, cuff links, and like an LV duffel bag and the team is just like “??? Woah dude where’d you get that??”

Subtle flex | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x rich fem!reader| WC: 0.9k | CW: nothing

Aaron Hotchner was usually not one for excess. His wardrobe was practical and professional, his tastes minimalistic, and his life, outside of Jack, revolved around efficiency and exuding authority on the job. Sure he had splurged occasionally on a stray high-quality tie here and there as well as his Rolex watch. At least that was until you entered his life.  

The first gift was a tie — a deep navy one in silk with subtle pinstripes. It came in a sleek wrapped box with some designer brand he had never even heard of before. You’d handed it to him with a casual smile, brushing off his initial protests with a light, “Aaron, I saw it and thought of you. Let me spoil you for once.”  

He wore it the next day, paired with his standard black suit, and noticed how it caught the light in the mirror. “Looks good,” he muttered to himself, brushing his hand over it. As hesitant as he had been to accept it, he was thankful for the present and happy that you'd chosen one that wasn't smothered in logos or brand names.

Then came the cuff links. They were sterling silver and engraved with his initials. He opened the box late one evening after you handed it to him over dinner. “You didn’t have to,” he said softly, though his smile betrayed how much he loved them.  

“Of course, I didn’t have to,” you replied, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. “But you deserve nice things, Aaron. You do so much good without even expecting a thanks.”  

And so it continued. A Louis Vuitton duffel bag for his work trips, a black leather wallet that somehow managed to look even more professional than the one he’d carried for years, and a collection of even more ties that were understated yet undeniably luxurious and seemed to multiply in his closet every so often.  

At first, he rotated the items slowly into his everyday wardrobe, unsure if they would draw attention. But one particularly chaotic morning, he grabbed the LV duffel, clipped on the cuff links, and shrugged into a jacket before heading into the office having gotten an urgent notification for a case.  

It didn’t take long for the team to notice.  

“Uh… Hotch?” Morgan’s voice cut through the usual buzz in the conference room as Hotch entered. “Is that a Louis Vuitton bag you’re carrying?”  

Hotch glanced at him briefly, setting the duffel down by the door before striding towards the front of the room to grab the file Garcia was holding outstretched for him. “Yes. Why?”  

Morgan blinked. “Why? Man, you’ve been holding out on us. Since when do you roll up looking like you just stepped out of GQ Magazine?”  

Emily leaned back in her chair, eyebrows raised. “Is that a new tie, too? That’s at least Tom Ford.”  

Hotch adjusted his tie instinctively. “It’s not. It’s Brioni.”  

“Oh, excuse us,” JJ chimed in throwing her hands up and exchanging an amused glance with Emily.  

“I’m sorry,” Spencer Reid piped up, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Are those cuff links monogrammed?”  

“Okay, seriously,” Morgan said, crossing his arms. “What’s going on, Hotch? You win the lottery or something? Cause if your salary is high enough for those purchases Imma have to talk to Strauss about a raise.”  

Hotch, shrugged lightly as he opened his case file. “No. My girlfriend has… a habit of giving gifts.”  

The room fell silent for a beat before Emily’s jaw dropped. “Wait, girlfriend? You’ve been holding out on us in more ways than one!”

"Who is she I need details," Garcia cut into the conversation, her excitement starting to bubble over.

JJ smirked. “Are you telling me she just gives you designer gifts casually? I agree with Garcia, who is this woman?”  

Hotch allowed himself the smallest of smiles as he glanced up from his paperwork. “Someone who insists I deserve the finer things.”  

“Damn,” Morgan muttered, shaking his head. “Where can I find one of those?”  

“Maybe start with charm school,” Emily teased.  

As the team bantered, Hotch’s phone buzzed on his desk. A message from you:  

Miss you already. Hope you’re putting the cuff links to good use. Dinner at my place when you get back?

He smiled quickly at his phone before typing back a quick reply.  

Always. I’ll bring the wine.  

When he looked up, the team was staring at him, curious. “What?” he asked, his tone amused, knowing fully well that they wouldn't stop bothering him about you until he eventually agreed to let them meet you.  

“Nothing,” Emily said, though her grin suggested otherwise. “Just trying to imagine Aaron Hotchner in love with a rich fashionista.”  

“Not just a fashionista,” Morgan added, gesturing toward the duffel. “An angel sent from the heavens, apparently.”  

Hotch shook his head, lifting his file up in the air in a quick and smooth motion as if to remind them why they were there. “Focus, everyone. We have a case.”  

A few days later, when you saw Aaron again, he mentioned the team’s reaction with a mix of exasperation and amusement.  

“I think they’re more interested in my wardrobe than the case,” he said, loosening his tie as he sat beside you on the couch.  

You laughed softly, running a hand through his hair. “Let them wonder. They’ll get used to it eventually.”  

“I’m not sure they ever will,” he muttered, leaning into your touch.  

“Good,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him. “I like keeping them on their toes.”  

[suhsweet]

perv!mingyu ⟡ kmg

wc: 731 | pair: perv!mingyu x afab!reader | genre: roommates au, 18+ (minors go away) | tags: mingyu is PERVERTED, panty stealing, dirty thoughts, mingyu spies on the reader

summary: when your roommate mingyu is a filthy, dirty pervert obsessed with you

authors note: maybe i'm a freak, but i literally thought that mingyu uploaded a pic of himself sniffing either socks or underwear. this is a really short drabble. wrote this in an hour. i might write more about perv!mingyu :) i told y'all that this blog is really self-indulgent...

Mingyu can’t remember exactly when his obsession with you began. One day, you were his roommate. The next, you were the star of all his fantasies. He’s had plenty of roommates before you, but you were different.

Maybe it's the fact that he knows what you sound like when you’re touching yourself. He knows you only do it when you’re the only one at home, where you can freely vocalize your pleasure without being embarrassed by anyone listening in. Except, that is exactly what Mingyu does.

If he tells you that he’ll be back from the gym by eight pm, he’s actually home at 7 and listening to you use your fingers to pleasure yourself. He tells you that he’s going to be at work until six, and comes home at five-fifty to hear the tail end of your orgasm.

Most of Mingyu’s nights are spent leaning against the wall your rooms share, pathetically fisting his swollen cock in his palms. His head would be pressed against the wall, his ears straining to find your moans. If he’s bold enough, he’s right outside your door with his dick out, where it’s significantly easier to hear you.

Right after you cum, he loudly opens and closes the front door to the apartment, hollering, “I’m home!”

He listens to you stumble around your room before you peek your head out. With your hair a mess, and eyes wide, Mingyu finds your flustered state so cute. He prevents a smug smirk from appearing when you innocently ask him how his day was.

He’s well aware that it would take only three strides of his long legs to reach your room. He’s also certain you didn’t have enough time to wipe your fingers clean of your essence. The idea that while you’re smiling innocently at him, behind the door your fingers are coated in your cum drives him insane. It takes everything in him not to burst into your room, take your hand in his, lick your fingers clean, and then make another mess of your pussy.

Mingyu’s perverted habits have been ongoing for several months. Mingyu was too far gone to feel any sense of guilt at this point. Not when you didn’t have to know. Not when he stole a pair of your panties from your laundry hamper while you were out with your friends.

He tries to use it sparingly to preserve your scent. He pulls it out on the occasions where he is so horny that his imagination cannot satiate his needs. It’s erotic, Mingyu thinks, that he’s using your panties while jerking himself off without your knowing.

He’s flat on his back, in the centre of his bed with the sheets pushed to his ankles. His room is plunged into darkness aside from the bedside lamp that illuminates his filthy act of perversion with a warm glow. He has his eyes closed whilst imagining the sight of you seated on his lips. He imagines his nose is buried in your delicious pussy, not the fabric of your underwear. His free hand grips his cock fiercely.

His mind presents him the image of you gripping his dark locks, your hips rotating as you grind into his mouth. His tongue is expertly drawing circles around your clit, the pressure of it so perfect that he brings to you an orgasm that is so shattering that you threaten to fall off of him. His arms would lock around your thighs like a vice. His eyes would look up at you, telling you everything that his occupied mouth can’t. His puppy eyes would be imploring, begging for more. His gaze would track your every movement, every rise and fall of your chest, every ‘o’ your mouth forms, every time your eyes clench shut when he sucks on your pussy.

And when you’re finished with his mouth, you’d come off of him, and clean up the mess you made by licking your release off of his lips. You two would make out as a result, messy and slick with saliva and cum.

While his imagination goes wild thanks to your used panties, Mingyu struggles to keep in the pitiful whine that threatens to leave his throat. He doesn’t want to wake you up. You’re obliviously sleeping on the other side of the wall, unaware that your pervert roommate is thinking such depraved thoughts about you.

[77gigabytes]

Mini-me {Love and Deepspace boys}

I can't stop imagining the LADS boys with kids. Mainly because of the "Plushies I gave her; plushies she gave me" trend. I CAN'T, I CANNOT, I DO NOT HAVE THE ABILITY TO CAN XD

Enjoy!

-Seven

|| Masterlist ||

Rafayel ❖· ────── · ·

Rafayel is as much of a child as he is a man

I think that Rafayel would have a son.

Right now, the two of you aren’t planning for another child, but Rafayel wouldn’t say no XD

Rafayel would be super fun and silly with your son

He would be overly dramatic when your son presents a new drawing of craft to him

“Here, papa,” Your son presents a painting of the ocean to Rafayel, “I tried the oil paints this time.”

With a hand at his chest, Rafayel does a big gasp, “What a masterpiece!”

Your son giggles

“I should present this at my next art exhibit!”

Please, as much as he exaggerates his reactions, he would have those painting and trinkets buried with him - that’s how much he loves your son

I imagine that one day as you’re cooking, they’re in the living room and Rafayel has your son’s hand enveloped in his own, guiding him as he paints.

It reminds you of that time in his studio in Greensprings after you promised to see the lanterns together

“What should we add next, kiddo?”

“Hmmm.” Your son taps the paintbrush on his chin, “What about some birds?”

“Heh, like the ones that stole your chips the other day?”

“It wasn’t the birds! It was you, papa!” he jabs the paintbrush at Rafayel’s chest

Rafayel lifts his hands up in surrender, “What do you mean? I’m innocent.” He chuckles as your son pouts at him

More often than not, the two of them are covered in paint, or whatever art supply they used. It ends up to be a whole load of washing for you >:(

Your son definitely loves the ocean just as much as his father.

When you were pregnant with him, he would kick in your belly whenever you were swimming or submerged in water.

As a toddler, he would kick his legs and squeal every time the waves washed over him

Rafayel would have his hands under your son’s arms, stabilising him so that the waves wouldn’t push him over

Now at six years old, he’s diving under, collecting shells and chasing fish,“Momma, look at this shell.” He lifts his small palm carrying a pink shell, his pearly whites beaming up at you as he smiled, “You can have it, momma, orrrrr, maybe I can make it into a paint with papa later.”

It’s late afternoon and your son is knocked out on the couch from spending the entire morning at the beach.

You and Rafayel get started on dinner

Rafayel comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Thank you.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Huh?” You pinch your brows and chuckle a little as he nuzzles your neck, “What for?”

He takes a deep breath, “I don’t know, just… For our son, for being my wife, I’m just happy, I guess.”

You chuckle lightly, “I’m happy too.” You turn around and pinch his cheek, “A little jealous that he takes after you so much, but happy.” you offer a bright smile.

Before Rafayel can lean in, his arms are jerked away from your waist

Your son is pulling at Rafayel’s arms, “No, papa! Momma is mine!” He’s leaning all the way back, using his entire weight as leverage to pry Rafayel’s body from yours, “Go away, papa!”

Rafayel scoffs, “Yours?” He raises an eyebrow, “Tsk.” He clicks his tongue and hauls your son over his shoulder, Your momma was mine first, you jellyfish!”

Rafayel's fingers jab at your son's sides, and the sound of your son’s laughter fills the kitchen “Hahaha, pa—haha-papa! Stop!” He’s got tears in his eyes but the biggest smile on his face.

“Nope!” Rafayel pops the ‘p’ and continues to tickle him, “I gotta show you who’s the big fish in this tank, pipsqueak.”

You shake your head and put an hand at your hip, the other one pointing the spatula at them, “Alright, enough, or both of you aren’t getting dinner.”

Sylus ❖· ────── · ·

Sylus has a daughter, a son, and another on the way!

He’d spoil them ROTTENNNNNN. I mean, he buys you dresses, gives you his black card to spend as much as you want, what more would he do for your children? Or rather, what wouldn’t he do for them?

He would definitely be the type to let your children learn how to do things on their own, even if they are clearly struggling. He lives by the ‘they’ll never learn if they don’t do it themselves.’ idea - he literally says "I prefer the cold and things that make me strong."

Although, he would yield after a little while when they’re clearly upset and wailing, but more often than not, with some gentle encouragement, he’d get them to figure out how to do it themselves - climbing thing, opening boxed, pulling out chairs, etc.

It gets a little troublesome since they become explorative - he often has to use his Evol to reign them back in. Although, the children squeal in delight when they’re lifted into the air and land in their father’s arms.

Mephisto is surprisingly gentle with your little ones, keeping his claws and beak out of range because it could hurt them, but also because they wouldn’t hesitate to grab it XD

Luke and Kieran are often on babysitting duty so that you and Sylus can go out - Honestly, this is why you have another baby on the way. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Sylus would totally hum to your belly, always off-tune, but he definitely would.

ANYWAY

Today, you’re out on an errand and your baby boy is absolutely crying to bits so Sylus and your daughter are trying their best to calm him down

Sylus has your daughter on his shoulders as he changes your son’s diaper. Your daughter has her hands in his hair as she makes silly faces down at her brother to try and distract him from crying.

By the time you come home, it’s quite late and you find that they are all sprawled out in the middle of the living room floor, toys scattered about and a kids show playing in the background.

Your son is splayed out on Sylus chest while your daughter is on her stomach, across Sylus’ stomach XD

You chuckle a lightly at their positioning

The lack of sleep must have finally caught up to Sylus, huh? You think

As you come closer you realise that your son is awake - he’s cooing with a fist in his mouth, drooling all over Sylus’ shoulder.

With a little difficulty, you kneel down onto the floor to slip your son out from Sylus’ arms. Slow and steady… The last few times you’ve tried, Sylus’ eyes would snap open, on high alert -because who would dare try to take his precious angels.

Anyways, you decided that Sylus probably needs the sleep, especially since you’re pregnant again, he’s been so on edge

You cradle your son in one arm, and with the other, you run your hand through Sylus’ hair - which he subconsciously leans into.

Then, you lean down to place a light kiss on your daughter’s cheek, although leaning down has become a challenge in itself with your growing belly.

With the support of a nearby armchair, you stand yourself up.

You make your way over to the cushioned rocking chair in the corner of the room, cradling your son to your chest to feed him.

Just as he finishes, your daughter’s slowly sits up from where she was laying. She rubs at her eyes and blinks sleepily - a vibrant red, like her father’s, peeking through.

She looks around the room and gasps in delight when her eyes land on you, “Mama!”

She takes a few steps to you and then stops midway to look back at her father. She hurriedly grabs the throw blanket from the armchair and throws it across her father, uncaring of whether it covered him properly or not.

“Hi, mama.” She greets you as she climbs to sit in your lap

“Hi, sweetie.” You gently caress her face, “How was your day?”

“Mmm…” She quirks her lips, “Well, little bubba was crying a lot, like, a lot, a lot.”

You chuckle as she spreads her arms all the way apart.

“But I missed you." She nuzzles into your shoulder, "Daddy did too, he kept looking at the clock.”

Hehe, ever the observant girl your daughter was.

“Aww, I missed you, and daddy, and bubba as well.” You press little pecks to her face and nuzzle your nose with hers to which she giggles. Like tinkling bells in the wind.

Zayne ❖· ────── · ·

I feel like Zayne would have a son and a daughter. Your son would be quite a few years older than her though

Some days, Zayne would take them to work, subtly showing them off to his colleagues

Greyson never misses the opportunity to pinch their cheeks and ruffle their hair, “They both look like a mini Dr. Zayne."

Zayne may have all those awards and trophies lining his office walls, but his pride and joy will always be his children

He may not outwardly express it, but he absolutely cherishes them - reading them bedtime stories, tucking them in with the lightest kiss upon their foreheads

I imagine your son would be very studious, having read most of the books occupying the shelves of Zayne’s office. He would be quite curious, exploring the hospital and asking the doctors all sorts of questions that they themselves do not even have the answers to.

He would be your little gentleman, learning from his father, pulling out chairs and opening doors.

Your daughter would probably be a little shy, always having a fist clenched on her daddy’s clothes or holding onto his hands, or rather his fingers.

Her big brother wouldn’t hesitate to get her whatever she wanted or take her wherever she wishes - your family’s little princess

As much of a workaholic Zayne is, and as much as he wants to provide for you and your little family, he would have no problems lessening his hours to spend time with you and the children

It doesn’t matter how tired he is from a long day of endless surgeries, he would just as eagerly play with them in the living room

“Here, Dad, have a turn.”

“What is it?” Zayne removes his coat and drapes it over the couch’s armrest.

“Uncle Greyson bought it for us.” Your son leads Zayne over to the living room table.

“Uncle Greyson, huh?”

Your son brushes over the comment and continues to explain the little toy, “You have to take these plastic organs and bacteria out without touching the edges or else it beeps and his nose flashes a red light.”

Ever the steady-handed surgeon, Zayne takes them all out without a problem.

“Daddy,” your daughter clutches at the fabric of Zayne’s dress shirt. “I want to try.”

Zayne beckons her over to stand in front of him where he can support her little hands holding the plastic forceps

On the off chance that you are not with them, Zayne would get them sweet treats on the way home

“It’ll be our little secret.” Zayne whispers, with a finger pressed to his lips

your son and daughter giggle in their seats and happily gobble up spoonfuls of the dessert

It isn’t long before they all start having toothaches and receive a scolding from you

On family vacations, you all end up in a cabin up in the mountains of Snowcrest (at the request of your sweet little angels)

Zayne is more than happy to teach them how to snowboard,

Much to your surprise, as your daughter grew older, you found that she was quite proficient in snowboarding

But there used to be times where Zayne made them little tiaras and crowns of ice and built little ice castle with them using his Evol

Xavier ❖· ────── · ·

Sleeps as much as your newborn son, if not more, and your eldest son has inherited his father’s incredible appetite.

When you’re not at home, Xavier nearly burns the house down trying to make food for them, so once your son was old enough, he opted to learn how to cook - having his father as an assistant because, you know… they need supervision or something XD

Xavier would definitely read them bed time stories

His voice is so soft and mellow, they would fall asleep so quickly

Not much of a surprise considering that Xavier falls asleep at the drop of a hat

But on days when they have nightmares, Xavier would use his Evol to create little bunnies and flowers that float around in their bedroom

and when sleep finally overtook them, he would tuck their blankets around them and whisper,

“Sweet dreams, my little starlight.”

Most days, in your lounge, your younger son would be crawling all over Xavier as he laid on the floor.

“Arghh, the monster’s got me.” he would jokingly say.

Your older son would then come in with a cardboard sword, gently tapping his little brother on the back to slay the monster

Xavier cradles the young one in his arms, “And the hero has saved the day once again!” He lifts the infant up into the air and receives a toothless smile.

“Just like you and mommy!” Your son beams down at Xavier, sword and shield still poised, “You keep us safe from all the wanderers, right? I wanna be just like you and mommy.”

Xavier just smiles - the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes, “Well, we better start training, huh?” Xavier ruffles your son’s hair.

Although he may not be as well-off as Sylus, he definitely would do his best to spoil them, bringing them to amusement parks, buying them little star lamps for their bedrooms, taking them to the arcade and playing kitty cards with them.

One time, you all went on a holiday to this guest house in the forest. When you asked him how he knew about this place he replied with:

“I befriended the uncle that runs this guesthouse while I went fishing that one time.”

Xavier would take them hiking, showing your sons the most scenic views in the forest

when night time came, all four of you were laying down on a blanket, gazing at the stars

Today, he’s taken you to a cherry blossom park. He’s got your eldest son on his shoulders, and your little one in a baby carrier at his front.

Your eldest son is reaching up trying to grasp at the pink petals some of which fall onto your youngest’s head.

Xavier quickly lets go of your hand, which he was holding, to brush them out of your baby’s face. (he’s using the other one to stabilise your son’s leg over his shoulder)

Just as quickly, he grasps your hand once more.

You squeeze his hand lightly, “Let me take the carrier from you, Xavier.”

“No, it’s okay.” He quickly refuses, “I want to carry them both. It won’t be long before they’ll be too big to do so.”

AHHHHAAA, I'm finally finished with exams, so I'll be able to write more often. Yahooooo ~(˘▾˘~)

But brooooo, the Lads with KIDSSSSS I CAN DIE HAPPY

-Seven

|| Masterlist ||

[tired-teacher-blog]

Husband Izuku who still gets misty eyed whenever he revisits your wedding photo album because he just cannot believe that you're actually his.

Husband Izuku who secretly dreamt of a life together with you ever since your first date, but he would never admit to it.

Husband Izuku who has your bright smiley face as his phone wallpaper and takes every opportunity presented to show you off to whoever is unfortunate enough to be subjected to him twittering on for hours at times about his beautiful wife, you.

Husband Izuku who showers you with gifts, with or without an occasion, and who anticipates your reaction eagerly with a goofy smile and a glint in his eye.

Husband Izuku who never fails to mention you during interviews, mouthing a shy greeting and a quiet "I love you" your way because he knows you'd be watching.

Husband Izuku who often cooks for you despite him being terrible at it, but he's stubborn and determined to learn from his mistakes because his goal is to prepare something worthy of your taste, and you love him for even trying.

Husband Izuku who dreams of having kids with you but never pushes the subject because he respects your body, and knows that you're the only one who can decide if and when to do it.

Husband Izuku who is mostly careful with your body, so sweet and attentive with his gentle touches and soft kisses as he covers every speck of you while moving slowly and deeply into your heat.

Husband Izuku who -despite his innocent demeanor- can actually sometimes be a beast during your intimate times together, pounding you into the mattress or any flat surface he can get you on, and watching as your eyes roll back and mouth falls open when you start fluttering around him as shockwaves of pleasure ripple through you.

Husband Izuku who obviously loves filling you up with his pearly seeds everytime he's allowed, and fantasizes about the day he'll finally get you pregnant.

Husband Izuku who almost chokes up when you place his hand on your belly and murmur into his ear that he is to be a father.

Husband Izuku who effortlessly memorizes every pregnancy book written, and you find it astounding that he knows about the subject more than you do.

Husband Izuku who accompanies you to every single doctor's appointment even if he has loads of work stacked up and waiting, he just gets someone to fill in for him so he wouldn't miss being with you during your checkups.

Husband Izuku who spoils you with massages because he's confident in his skills to alleviate your sore muscles and just about any discomfort you might have.

Husband Izuku who relishes watching your belly grow gradually and adores the extra weight you've put on, he simply cannot take his eyes off of you and is mesmerized by your glow.

Husband Izuku who loves kissing your baby bump and talking nerdily to your unborn child about anything and everything, until he falls asleep with his head on your lap and his hand resting on your tummy.

Husband Izuku who stands by you in the delivery room, holding your hand and encouraging you with loving words all the way through the process.

Husband Izuku who is unable to stop the stream of tears rolling down his cheeks when holding your baby for the first time.

Husband Izuku who kisses you deeply and thanks you for the greatest gift he has ever gotten, calling you his hero for being so strong and brave until the end.

Husband Izuku whose phone gallery is now filled with pictures and videos of you and the baby, drawing strength from seeing your faces whenever things get inevitably tough for the pro hero.

Husband Izuku who watches over your little family like a hawk, and whose life mission is to give you the happiness you deserve in return for what you've given him.

[hanasnx]

Indy! What kinks do you think Bruce would have ?

bruce wayne's kinks.

MINORS DNI 18+

! ── bondage + gags: it's a classic. tying you up and taking control from you is a huge turn on for him. if you have his complete trust, which rare ever do, you'll be able to do the same to him. unfortunately, those pretty silken ropes end up getting worn through way too quick, so you've upgraded to chains so you can ride him like a stallion. however, your headboard creaks a little more each time. when a 200+ man of pure muscle yanks on wood it splinters.

! ── edging + overstimulation + dacryphilia

! ── exhibitionism: part of his bruce wayne persona means public displays of affection are required. however, he enjoys it. getting his hands all over you where anyone could see means he elicits that cute reaction out of you where you hit him and scold him all the while his teeth are on your neck and he's groping you through your dress. the thrill of removing just enough to make sure he can get inside you makes him rip his belt open with fervor, and he's always a fan of a quickie. it's a stress reliever.

! ── breathplay: he's calculative when it comes to breathplay, but more specifically he loves putting his hand around your throat.

! ── size: he's an avid supporter. he thinks it's hot when you get all sheepish being reminded of how big and strong he is. he's got a powerful body he works day and night for, the least you can do is appreciate its every inch.

! ── food play: ever since strippers jumped out of his birthday cake in his twenties covered in frosting and edible bits that he was allowed to lick off he's had a thing for food play. at one point you feel like he's eaten entire meals off of you, he's completely nondiscriminatory when it comes to what he can lick and mouth as long as it's on you. if he's on a cheat day, he lets a scoop of ice cream melt on your skin just so he can clean you himself and watch your poor nipples pebble from the cold.

! ── impact play: chronic ass-smacker, tit-smacker less so, face-smacker even less.

! ── old school panty snatcher: if you put a pair of your used panties in his suit pocket before he goes to work he will play with it all day. stick his hand in there to meddle with the fabric between his fingers while he's talking to his board of directors with the presentation he's been preparing. he gets into the habit of inviting himself to your undergarments, and has been caught multiple times using one of your favorite pairs to jack himself off.

! ── bareback + creampies: condoms are fine he's not an idiot, but there's something about going in raw that draws him in. the extra edge of danger and the intimacy of touching the deepest parts of you bare.

! ── thigh riding: clasping your hands in his for balance while he watches you get off on his thigh. tells you it's like a personal show. he keeps those eyes trained on you with such an entertained grin it makes you whine in frustration, and that's hot too.

! ── threesomes/foursomes: he's done it all. having multiple partners is a testament to his endurance and he loves the praise, but since he's been official with you there is no room for that sort of thing and that's fine with him.

! ── light roleplay: you two have been known to throw the word "batman" around the bedroom.

! ── praise mostly very rarely a degrader

! ── daddy: as far as he's concerned, that's one of his names when it comes to you. in any context you call him that, he swells with pride. one time you visit him while he's in a meeting, not only did you turn every head in the room but when you called him "daddy" accidentally and out of pure habit, he didn't skip a beat. he glances at his companions with a knowing glint in his eye because they should be jealous that the girl they're gonna be thinking about for the rest of the day just called him daddy. he's got no shame about it.

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (the holiday special) r.cameron

[Warnings]soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, NONCON, dd/lg, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, heavy on the somnophilia, ittle editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

word count: 1.6k

In which it's your first Christmas Eve with your Daddy, you don't know what you want but Rafe surely does.

main masterlist

bambi eyes masterlist

You could think of three things that you wanted for Christmas. Colored pencils, glitter lipgloss, and a small stuffed animal for Bunny. You don’t need any more clothes. You’d been with Rafe for over a month, and there were still clothes in your wardrobe that you had not worn yet. Your room was heaven, with the softest sheets and pillows, and Rafe bought you even more playthings each week. 

Your last gift was a diamond bracelet Rafe gave you because of how well you behaved in front of his friend, Barry. He didn’t punish you for sneaking around downstairs. All you had to do was bring him a slice of cake and sit down on Rafe’s lap while the two of them talked about “getting rid of their problem.” 

There were several trees around the house, but the biggest one was in the living room, by the fireplace, and it was at least two times your height. There were at least twenty presents underneath the tree already, wrapped neatly in paper that was decorated with pink snowflakes. In cozy reindeer pajamas, ones Rafe had also purchased, you sat near the tree checking over your letter to Santa. Although you had a feeling Rafe might secretly be Santa, you let a small part of you believe it was real magic. 

Lana helped you write the letter, and now you were adding a few drawings and stickers to really jazz it up. It took you longer to write it than Rafe preferred, it was already Christmas Eve, but if Santa could somehow bring you exactly what you wanted tomorrow, you’d really believe in him. 

“You almost finished, baby?” 

You looked up to see Rafe entering the living room, most likely finished with his work day, “I couldn’t think of anything else to ask for,” You said quietly, remembering how much Rafe encouraged you to ask for absolutely anything. The truth was you never had anything so you didn’t know what to ask for, “I don’t think I need anything else. But I wrote a nice letter for Santa and I thanked him for everything he does. And I made it sparkly.”

Rafe made himself comfortable on the couch and you brought over your letter, “C’mere,” He said, pulling your legs over his lap before wrapping one arm around you, “This is beautiful work, kid. Santa is going to love it.”

You looked up at him, a smile on his face as he read the words over, “What did you ask Santa for, Daddy?”

“Well, since I already have you,” He squeezed you, making your heart leap in your chest, “I asked Santa to make sure that you have the best Christmas. That you’ll love every gift you get and we’ll have a nice, Christmas dinner.”

You smiled back at him, “I wish I could buy you something, Daddy.”

“No need,” Rafe leaned in to kiss the side of your forehead, “I like giving to you, and I have plenty of money for the both of us. Besides, you’re way too little.” 

When Rafe looked at you, he really looked at you. He held your face in his hands, not tight enough to bruise, so you wouldn’t look away. You were still learning not to feel shy under his gaze. You started to understand that you were just like the gifts sitting under the tree. You were Rafe’s gift to himself. He showed his possession of you through his gaze. 

“Your bows are a nice touch,” He complimented, taking notice of the red ribbons tied around your pigtails. Every morning you spent time doing your hair, and you were slowly learning how to do your makeup. When he noticed your efforts, you felt you were fulfilling your purpose, “And I already knew you’d look cute in your pajamas.”

Rafe liked it when you presented yourself a certain way. He liked things to be dainty and soft. He preferred small jewelry over statement pieces. Pastel colors over bright ones. And you should never have on too much makeup. Lipgloss was better than lipstick and concealer over foundation. He wanted you muted but pretty, just like your personality. 

“Thank you,” You batted your lashes. 

Rafe and you continued your cozy evening in the living room. You’d made it through the first two Home Alone movies and were now in the middle of watching The Polar Express. Rafe excused himself to the kitchen for a moment, taking the chance to prepare some hot cocoa for the two of you. 

When Rafe returned to the couch, you were sound asleep, your arms wrapped around Bunny. Quietly, he set down the cups of cocoa on the coffee table, and the thought of waking you up crossed his mind. After all, your drink would get cold, but you seemed like you were resting deeply. 

Gently, Rafe laid down next to you. You didn’t wake; you moaned softly as you turned your head, nuzzling your face into Rafe’s neck. Rafe stayed with you like this, having found a new love in sleeping next to you. He never really enjoyed next to sleeping next to anyone, until you, and he began to designate certain nights of the week where you’d stay with him in his bed. 

Watching you sleep made him think back to when he first brought you home. You still looked as innocent as ever, but there was something else Rafe liked about watching you sleep – he loved seeing you vulnerable. Obviously, you were in a constant state of being vulnerable to Rafe’s every whim and want, but this was different. 

He tested just how deeply you were sleeping, slowly taking the doll from your grasp When you stirred only slightly, Rafe continued, first touching you above your pajamas. Large, ringed fingers felt over your chest. He massaged them, kneading them, and you reacted by pressing yourself closer to him. 

Lips parted, and holding in heavy breathing, Rafe continued his exploration. He was growing harder in his briefs, imagining the look on your face when you fully opened your eyes. He licked one of his fingers and reached into your pajama bottoms and then into your panties. This was exactly why he never wanted you to wear panties to bed; they only got in his way. 

He stroked fingers up and down, feeling between your folds. Feeling the moisture there, he wondered what exactly you’d been dreaming about, “Rafe,” He heard you whisper, although when he looked down at you, your eyes were still closed. Although the stimulation was waking you, Rafe knew you were too tired to fully realize what he was doing. 

Rafe shushed you, still playing between your legs, “Is bed … time?” You mumbled as Rafe pulled his hands from your underwear, bringing his fingers to his lips. 

“Yes, sweet girl,” Rafe whispered, “Keep relaxing, Daddy’s got you.”

Rafe pulled his body from yours, moving off the couch before he gently started to pull down your reindeer bottoms.  Carefully, he removed them from around your ankles before slowly lowering himself down on top of you, “Cold … please,” You mumbled, “Daddyyy.”

“I’ve got you,” Rafe said in response to your whining; as he settled on top of you, you wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him in like your dolly or a pillow. Meanwhile, Rafe was trying as carefully as he could to free himself from his briefs. He didn’t have to touch himself at all, he was already aching for you.

He didn’t resist anymore, pushing your underwear to the side and then pushing inside of you, his sweet girl. You were tighter, somehow, causing Rafe’s eyes to roll in pleasure, “Rafe,” He heard you, knowing you in a daze. Currently, he felt quite dazed himself. He knew with his size that he’d wake you but he didn’t account for the fact that your body might try to resist, to push him out. It just motivated him to push deeper, “Rafe. Rafe.”

Your voice was sharper now, scared almost, “You’re okay,” He cooed, “You’re …so so good, sweet girl.”

You loosened your grasp on him, and Rafe took the opportunity to see your face. You were adorable in those red bows, he noticed them first, but then he saw your scrunched-up features, a cute wince on your face. It would feel good soon, he knew that, but he certainly enjoyed seeing you resist. 

“What a fussy little girl, huh?” Rafe thrusted slowly, “Acting like you don’t like Daddy’s cock.”

With each thrust, you were trying to gain your composure, but Rafe was relentless. 

One hand, beside your head, he pressed into the couch to hold himself up, and the other, he reached down to play with your clit, “Cum one time for me,” Rafe commanded, although it was the last thing you wanted. He would give it to you anyway, wanting to see it in your face when your own body betrayed you, “One time, and you can go back to sleep.”

Rafe’s thrust was slow but consistently deep. He switched back and forth from focusing on your pleasure and his. It was difficult for him, he could finish so easily with you, but he held out; Rafe knew when you were getting closer just by the look on your face. Your head tilted back as your orgasm spread through you, and Rafe was quickly behind you. 

Rafe caught his breath, still inside of you, and moved his chest closer to yours, “You okay? You did good, Bambi.”

You nodded calmly, “Did I …Did I miss the whole movie?”

Rafe stared, bewildered for a moment, “Uh … no. We can just rewind it, baby,” He grinned, pecking your lips, “And I can just heat up the hot chocolate again.” 

Your eyes widened, “Hot chocolate like in the movie?”

“Just like the movie, my love,” Rafe’s forehead pressed to yours.

He was grateful for the fact that he could give you the perfect first Christmas tomorrow. He was even more grateful for how perfect you were.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!

[dreamescapeswriting]

Only Yours ~ MYG

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT: 3.7K

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅GENRE: established relationships,playfully rejecting her until it goes too far, he loves YOUR attention and no one elses, first kiss, cute, fluffy ending

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅PAIRING: Yoongi x Fem!Reader

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2024

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

Yoongi and you have always been extremely close and comfortable with one another, the two of you would rarely hang out without the other one being there and it was something you loved. Whenever you were around him you'd be super affectionate with him in subtle ways - that the guys and even Yoongi had noticed.

You'd fix his hair, bring him coffee, lightly tease him about things and shower him with tons of compliments or sometimes even gifts. It wasn't that much of a big deal since it was something you loved doing and it was your love language. Yoongi usually played it off like he did with Taehyung, he'd brush off your gestures in a playful, teasing way. He'd swat your hand away when you were ruffling his hair or sometimes give you a deadpanned comment whenever you complimented him. It was just what he did but they were meant to just be lighthearted, something he did with everyone but he hadn't noticed that it started to chip away at you.

Every swat or deadpan comment chipped your confidence away bit by bit until you were second-guessing everything you'd done for him and wondering if he even cared at all.

"You got something for Yoongi again?" Jimin teases you as you walk into the studio after a long day, he can see the small bag in your hand and that usually means you had a present for one member only. The boys had just finished rehearsals and you saw yoongi scrolling through his phone.

"Maybe," you smirk holding the small bag in your hand. You'd been out that morning when you spotted the perfect gift for Yoongi.

"What is it, Yn? Another one of your 'special gifts'?" Yoongi questioned with a lazy smirk plastered across his face, secretly adoring that you'd gotten him something he was going to put with all of your other gifts. Unbeknownst to you and the members Yoongi kept everything you'd ever gotten him.

"You know it! Open it! Open it!" you giggled handing him the small box that was wrapped in silver shiny paper. Sighing to himself Yoongi took the box and began to tear open the paper to reveal a sleek, black notebook that had his name embossed on the over. You watched him waiting for a reaction but he just deadpanned,

"Ah, a notebook. Just what I needed...another one. I have like ten of these." He teased but you hadn't picked up on the teasing tone, only that he hated your gift. Laughing a little to yourself you tried to brush it off but Jimin noticed the nervousness in your eyes, it was as plain as day.

"I just thought...you could use it for lyrics. It's small enough to put in any bag, so when inspiration strikes," You shrugged a little and Yoongi shut the notebook, leaning back against the sofa and chuckling.

"Yeah, because I definitely need another one to stare at blankly when I can’t think of lyrics." The others laughed at his dry humour but your smile faltered ever so slightly, it was one of those blink and you'll miss it kind of things but it hadn't gone unnoticed by Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook.

"Don't worry, Yn. Yoongi's just being Yoongi. He loves it, in his own...weird way." Jimin tries to reassure you sensing that something is wrong but Yoongi shrugs clearly not realising how much his teasing was getting to you. Turning to you with a smirk he looked at you,

"You know me, Yn. I'm not exactly a 'gift' person." He shrugs a little and you force a smile onto your lips before speaking softly.

"Yeah-yeah...I know." You laugh lightly trying not to draw attention to your small stutter. You shrugged it all off, but there was a subtle shift in your demeanour as you turned your head to the door and mumbled something about going to get everyone a drink. Yoongi smirked a little still not realising what had happened but someone did. Jimin noticed the change in your mood instantly and began exchanging a glance with Jungkook who nodded at him to go after you.

You stood inside of the small kitchen and leaned against the counter, trying to shake off the sting of Yoongi’s words. It seemed silly for you to get worked up over something like this but you couldn't help the way it hurt you, you thought Yoongi loved this side of you but it was beginning to eat away at you that maybe he found it all a bit annoying. Looking at yourself in the reflection of the glass cabinet you took a deep breath and grabbed a glass of water. Jimin looked over at you as he walked into the room, leaning against the wall.

"Hey… you okay?" Stupid question when he could clearly see that you weren't but you turned to face him, forcing a smile onto your face.

"Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?" You shake your head at him, playing it off like nothing was wrong but Jimin saw right through you. He crossed the room before leaning on the counter beside you and giving you a knowing look. Sometimes he liked to think he knew you better than you knew yourself and he knew right now you were lying.

"You looked a little upset back there. Did something Yoongi said bother you?" You looked down at your glass and then rolled your eyes. You were probably just being overdramatic about it all,

"It’s nothing. He’s just… being Yoongi, right?" Jimin nodded at you but then sighed a little,

"True. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t bother you." You hesitated a little before glancing down at your glass and sighing, it wasn't like you wanted to be upset over it.

"I don’t know, Jimin. It’s just… I feel like I’m always trying to do these little things for him, and he never seems to really care. Like, maybe I’m being too much, you know? Maybe I should just stop and it'll stop him being so cold?" Jimin frowns at you, no one here would ever think you were being too much.

"You’re not too much. You’re just being yourself, and that’s a good thing. Yoongi’s just… well, he’s not always great at showing how he feels..." You looked at him and smiled weakly at him, you knew he was trying to be nice to you while defending Yoongi at the same time.

"I know. I just… maybe I need to back off a little. Give him space." Jimin watches you for a moment before reaching out to squeeze your shoulder, he knew that there was nothing he could say to you right now that could change your mind so he nodded at you.

"Just do what feels right for you. But don’t lose that part of yourself that’s so caring. That’s what makes you, you."

Back in the studio, the members are still lounging around waiting for you to get back, all of them doing their own thing. But it was Yoongi who glanced toward the door noticing you hadn't come back yet and it worried him a little, not that he'd ever voice it to anyone though.

"Man, you’re always so cold, hyung. Can’t you be nice for once?" Jungkook teased Yoongi who quickly snapped out of his worried state and turned back to Jungkook with a smirk as he shrugged. It wasn't as if you ever took any of it to heart, you knew how cold he was with everyone and you knew he was joking...Right?

"Nice isn’t really my thing." He answered keeping up his cold/bad-boy persona making Jungkook rin and shake his head. Meanwhile, Taehyung moved closer to Yoongi and nudged him softly. He'd noticed the looks of doubt spreading over your face and he knew exactly what you were going through.

"You should be careful, hyung. One of these days, someone’s going to take your cold act to heart." Taehyung tried to tell him it was you who was hurt in a non-confrontational way but it was as if the hint went right over Yoongi's head as he rolled his eyes. But his smile faded a little as Taehyung’s words linger in his head and he bit down on his lip. Had they bothered you? He moves a little and stares back over at the door. Is that why you haven't come back yet? The door handle jiggled a little before it opened to reveal Jimin, alone.

"Yn's gone home for the night. Said something about having a headache." He shrugged before joining the rest of the guys but Yoongi couldn't help but stare at the door, waiting for you to come in again.

The days went by and while you were still around in the studio and with the boys there was something off about you. Something that didn't feel right. Whenever you bought Yoongi his morning Coffee you'd usually sit with him and talk his ear off, something he told you he hated but something he rather looked forward to in the mornings. It had become a part of his routine but you'd stopped, claiming you had stuff to do.

The same thing happened when he asked you for some help in the studio, you'd told him you'd be there but there was no playful banter between you. Your voice even lacked the enthusiasm he'd loved about it and you were withdrawn from him, no longer coming to watch him write or even practice.

As usual, Yoongi was in the studio alone, working on a song that he was supposed to be keeping his focus on but his mind kept getting distracted as he replayed the interactions with you from over the past few days. He glances at his phone expecting to see something from you but there is nothing but a blank screen.

His hand hovered over the screen as he debated calling you, asking you to come and join him just so he could hear you ramble about your day but before he could the door opened. His heart launched into his throat as he turned around expecting to see you standing there but it was Taehyung,

"Yoongi-hyung! Working hard as always, huh?" He smirked cheerfully but Yoongi just threw him a half-hearted smile and leaned back in his chair.

"Hey, Tae… can I ask you something?" Yoongi's serious tone only worried Taehyung who nodded at him, leaning forward a little.

"Of course. What’s up?"

"Have you noticed anything… different with YN lately?" Taehyung thought for a little while nodding his head, you hadn't been around as much and you'd stopped spending all your free time with them.

"Yeah… she’s been quieter. She’s not her usual self around you, at least. Why? Did something happen?" Yoongi let out a sigh before running a hand through his hair and shaking his head at himself. He didn't even know where all of this had gone wrong but he knew it was his fault.

"I don’t know. She just… I don’t know. She’s not hanging around as much. No teasing, no small talk. Even her smiles seem… off." Taehyung looked at Yoongi, he hadn't realised he paid so much attention to your smile and the whole thing made Taehyung smirk a little but he did his best to hide it.

"Well, maybe you should ask her about it? YN’s sensitive. Maybe something’s bothering her, and she doesn’t know how to talk to you about it." Yoongi's frown deepened, his mind racing as he considered it, usually, you told him anything and everything that came into your mind. He ran over everything that had happened in the last few days and he thought back to when you got him that notebook, the one staring up at him blankly from his desk as he tried to write in it. He'd rejected the advancement from it but it was his favourite thing right now.

"You think… I did something?" His voice came out shakey as he turned to look at Taehyung who simply shrugged a little.

"Maybe. But the only way to find out is to ask her."

It had been a few more days and your behavior continued to shift and twist. You still interacted with the group, but there was a noticeable distance between you and Yoongi, something all of them had even picked up on and were worrying about. It wasn't like you to be so cold and closed off with anyone, let alone Yoongi.

One afternoon, Yoongi walked into the kitchen where you and Jungkook were joking around with each other, it was the first time in days that Yoongi had seen your smile and he was going to do everything he could to watch it for a few seconds. But that green-eyed monster was on his shoulder as he watched from the doorway, a tightness in his chest as he saw you laughing freely with Jungkook—something you hadn’t done with him in days.

"Wow, YN, you’re actually in a good mood today!" Jungkook teased as you laughed softly, shaking your head. You were always in a good mood whenever you weren't around Yoongi but you weren't about to tell his best friend and band member that.

"Shut up, Jungkook. I’m always in a good mood." Taking this chance Yoongi stepped into the kitchen, clearing his throat to get your attention. Jungkook glances over and grins, but your smile fades ever so slightly as you notice Yoongi approaching you both.

"Hey, YN. Got time to talk?" He smiled warmly at you but you looked down at your cup, avoiding his gaze.

"Uh… sure. What’s up?" Jungkook exchanged a glance with Yoongi who nodded for him to leave and he smiled a little, rubbing your shoulder as he got up,

"I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t kill each other." He teased before rushing out, not giving you a chance to stop him from leaving you there with Yoongi.

Once the two of you were alone it was as if the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. It was obvious to anybody that something was going on between the two of you and yet neither of you spoke a word about it.

"Yn...Please, talk to me." He whispered, not caring if he sounded as though he was begging or not, he wanted his friend back.

"Is something going on? You’ve been… distant lately." Choosing to shrug it off you shook your head at him and smiled doing your best to fake it with him.

"I’ve just been busy, that’s all." Yoongi scoffed at you, narrowing his eyes. There was no way he was going to believe some shitty excuse about being busy when usually he was the one keeping you busy.

"Come on, YN. We both know it’s more than that. You’re not acting like yourself… at least, not around me." His voice trailed a little at the end as he remembered you laughing freely with Jungkook, the jealousy creeping back in once again.

"I don’t know, Yoongi… maybe I’ve just been overthinking things." You mumbled a little and shrugged your shoulders. This wasn't exactly how you planned on telling him how you felt lately but it was going to come out nether-the-less.

"Overthinking what?" You hesitate a little, struggling to find the right words to tell him how you were feeling, how he'd been making you feel as of late. Biting down on your lip, you finally looked up at him

"I just… I started to feel like maybe I was being too much. Like all the little things I do—bringing you coffee, giving you gifts, trying to be close—it just seemed like you didn’t really… want it." You looked down at your hands and then rolled your eyes trying to stop yourself from crying in front of him.

"I didn’t want to keep pushing you if it was annoying you." You finished and Yoongi’s eyes widen slightly as realization dawns on him. He opens his mouth to respond but closes it, guilt washing over him. He'd been playfully pushing you away thinking you saw it as playful as well,

"I didn’t know…"

"It’s fine. I’m just trying to give you space." Yoongi’s heart tightened. Space? He didn't want space! he didn't want space from you, he wanted you close and he wanted you to be there with him all of the time like you used to be.

Reaching out he touched your hand softly and shook his head, your eyes met from across the table and your heart raced a little as you saw just how guilty he was.

"YN… I never wanted you to feel like that. I thought I was just teasing you, like I do with the others, but… I never meant to make you feel like you had to pull away."

"It’s just… hard to tell sometimes." You whispered and Yoongi watched you for a moment, guilt and frustration warring within him.

"I’ve been stupid. I know I’m not great at showing how I feel, but… I miss it. All of it. The coffee, the jokes, the… you. I didn’t realize how much I depended on it until you started pulling away." You look up at him, your heart practically working overtime now but he smiles at you, continuing with what he was saying.

"You’re not “too much,” YN. If anything, I didn’t appreciate it enough. I don’t want space from you… I never want space from you again...I just didn’t know how to show you that I care. But I do. A lot. Please come back," Your expression softened at his words as you realised how much you meant to him, the tension in your shoulders eased a little as you relaxed around him.

"I didn’t know that’s how you felt." You whispered as he smiled shyly at you, a small blush creeping its way onto his cheeks. It wasn't like him to be so vulnerable around someone but he was doing it with you, for you. He wanted you to see how deeply he cared about you.

"Well, I’m telling you now. I’m not great with words, but I’m trying here."

It had been a few weeks since the incident and you and Yoongi were back to full working order. You bought him his coffee and sat together during the day. You 'annoyed' him in all of the ways that he loved you to do and you were inseparable again.

The two of you were on the rooftop garden of the building, looking out over the city, your head was leaning on his shoulder as you did your best to wake up a little more. The coffee you'd gotten hadn't rushed into your system yet but Yoongi had insisted on coming to watch the sun.

The sun was just starting to rise, casting a soft golden glow over the buildings and it was incredibly peaceful, something Yoongi did whenever he wanted time to think.

"It’s beautiful up here." You stated between a yawn and Yoongi smiled to himself and nodded.

"Yeah. It’s one of my favourite places to think."

"You're thinking right now, I can practically smell the burning." You teased making Yoongi laugh softly but it wasn't a full laugh. Lifting your head from his shoulder you were prepared to ask him what was wrong but he was already looking at you.

"Yn..." He whispered a little and watched you,

"I’ve been thinking… about what you said before. About how you felt like you were being too much." Your heart was in your throat, was he about to take all of it back? Were you too much? Had you gotten worse?

"Yeah?" your voice shook a little and Yoongi could sense your overthinking, he took your hand in his and squeezed softly bringing your mind back to him in the present.

"I just want you to know… you’re never too much for me. I actually… I like that you care so much." You nodded at him, he'd already told you this the other day,

"Yoongi-"

"Listen," He chuckled softly as he cut you off, your heart skipping a beat as you felt your face warm as he touched your cheek softly,

"It’s not something I’m used to, but… I need it. I need you." He ran his thumb along your bottom lip as he locked his eyes with yours.

"Yoongi…"

"I might not be the best at showing it, but I don’t want to lose what we have. I… I care about you a lot, YN. More than I’ve let on. And I don’t want you to second-guess that anymore." Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to process his words. You could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the way he’s letting down his walls just for you...Only you.

"I care about you too, Yoongi. A lot." Your voice shook a little and he looked at you, leaning in closer to you. So close you could feel his breath on your lips.

"So… no more backing off, okay?" He whispered to you, your head nodding before you could get the words out to answer him.

"Okay. No more backing off." You promised him and he smiled at you. Running his thumb along your bottom lip once again before he slowly leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, tender kiss. It’s soft at first, tentative as if you're both savouring the moment, but it quickly deepens into something more passionate. Yoongi pulled you closer to him, bringing you onto his lap as he smiled against your lips in the kiss.

This was everything he'd been wanting, and more, fireworks exploding around him as you pushed your hands into his hair, deepening the kiss as you let his tongue into your mouth

When the two of you finally pulled back for air, Yoongi kept his forehead resting against yours, his hand still gently cupping your cheek as you let out a small and nervous giggle at him. That was one of the best kisses you'd ever experienced in your life and you couldn't get your heart to stop trying to escape and run into his waiting hands.

"That wasn’t too annoying, right?" Yoongi asked with a giant smirk on his face. Laughing a little you looked at him, your eyes sparkling a little.

"Not at all. In fact, I might need more of that." You giggled as he leaned closer to you

"I think that can be arranged." He whispered before kissing you once again, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you to rest on his lap.

@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp @royallyjjk @parkjennykim @piercedddriver

[rememberwren]

/•Harmless Fun 7•\

Former and further chapters can be found here.

You and Johnny kiss. With company. Ghoap/fem!reader, dry humping, kissing, handjobs, exhibitionism, suggestion of blowjobs.

-

Kissing Johnny only gets easier, and it was easy to begin with.

-

The next morning sees you running late for work. After your late night, you had forgotten to set your alarm and hadn’t awoken until the sun spilled in through your open curtains and you could hear the sound of Simon bustling around at the other end of the apartment. You had taken the quickest shower of your life, brushed your teeth, and done your best to make yourself presentable, rehearsing potential excuses in your head for your boss. There was a crash on I-57; my car broke down; a child fell down a well… 

You didn’t even have time to grab a cup of Simon’s coffee before you were wrenching the front door open, but when Johnny calls out sharply for you to halt, you are startled enough into stopping your frenzied rush, turning to blink at his careful, limping approach. He cups your jaw and brings your mouth to his, tasting like creamer and sugar, just the way you like your coffee. 

“Have a good day, hen,” he says when he pulls back, giving you an innocuous smile. 

Your eyes flitter to Simon, who is leaning with one hip against the kitchen island, coffee halfway to his mouth, brows raised—it’s reflexive to check on him, to make sure that Johnny hasn’t made him angry with this sudden show of affection. To make sure that you’re allowed to enjoy it. When Simon’s coffee finally completes its circuit to his mouth, you look back at Johnny and give him a shy smile. 

“You too,” you say for lack of better words. After you shut the door, you mouth to yourself, Oh my god. Then you remember your own lateness and rush down to the parking lot, praying for green lights all the way to work. 

Inside the apartment, Johnny fixes Simon with a smug expression. 

Simon shakes his head, eyes rolling toward the ceiling. 

-

When you get home from work, feet aching and a knot in your neck, it all seems to melt away as Johnny sits up from where he was slumped on the couch and draws you onto his lap. You’re careful not to put too much pressure on his bad thigh, gripping his shoulders tightly, eyes flickering around the apartment looking for the looming presence of Johnny’s other half once Johnny’s intent seems clear. 

“Where’s Simon?” you breathe. 

“Out,” says Johnny, taking your chin in his fingers and coaxing you down toward his mouth. He pauses, lips nearly brushing. “Should we wait so he can watch?” 

“What?” 

Johnny grins. He leans up the last few hairs’ breadths and kisses you, and Simon finds you in a similar place nearly an hour later. 

You’ve shifted of course, unable to kneel for so long without your legs falling asleep. Now Johnny lays with his bad thigh braced against the back of the couch, legs opened for you to be nestled between, your arms looped around his neck so you can play with the soft hairs at the back of his head. 

Your mouth feels numb from kissing, your thoughts syrupy and slow, focused only on the softness of Johnny’s mouth, the way his stubble rubs your cheeks raw (and your neck, when he gives your mouth a break and trails his lips down your jaw to the space between your neck and shoulder). Your head feels light and airy, your heart too, positively buoyant with all the affection. The only part of you that doesn’t feel sleepy and slow is that needy place between your legs; there you ache, slick enough for your panties to stick to you every time you shift. 

Johnny isn’t unaffected, either. He’s been hard since he dragged you onto his lap, but he seems completely content to do nothing about it. Anytime you try to escalate your kisses into something a little firmer, a little more satisfying, he drags you back to that soft and slow place where it feels like all your thoughts leak out your ears. 

“Johnny,” you breathe into the crook of his neck, resting your own sore one. He hums in answer. “Don’t you want—more?” 

“Got you in my lap,” he says, hands massaging your hips firmly. “What more could I possibly want?” 

You let your pelvis settle a little more firmly against his own, rocking against his hard cock. He can’t control the way his breath hitches at the stimulation, fingertips digging into your flesh. 

“Oh, him?” Johnny asks innocently. “Just ignore him.” 

“I don’t want to ignore him,” you mutter sulkily. “I want to sit on him.” 

Johnny guffaws. Beneath you, his cock twitches. 

The door opens and Simon enters. He’s dripping sweat from his run, and for the first time you notice the backpack he carries with him, the way it seems to droop against his back, like it’s filled with something heavy. All three of you freeze at the sight of the other. The moment is broken by a buzzing—Simon fishes his phone from his pocket and sighs, pressing it to his ear. 

“I’m listening,” he says, shutting the front door behind him. 

Johnny reaches out softly and turns your chin back towards him. There is something in his eyes, something mischievous, but all he does is coax your mouth back down to his and kiss you again. You sigh against his mouth, eyes fluttering closed as he sucks sweetly on your tongue. You hear the sound of Simon’s voice, but his words go in one ear and out the other, the warm rumble of his tenor doing nothing to help the ache between your thighs. 

Johnny grips your hips in his hands and—oh, oh god. He rocks you gently against him, his cock brushing against your soaked sex through your respective layers. It sends a jolt through you, even this small stimulation feeling good after denying yourself for so long. You can’t help the sound that slips out of your throat, the little whine that Johnny swallows whole and matches with a warm, pleased hum. 

You know what he’s doing now. Had he planned it to be like this? It’s hard to imagine that he hadn’t, not with his earlier flippant phrase of waiting for Simon to watch. Respectability wars with your own need, and you find that it’s far too easy to let your need win, to let Johnny’s hands guide you against his cock again and again, stoking that fire in your belly into something transcendental, something too big to be ignored. 

“Johnny?” you hear Simon say to whoever is on the other end of the phone, the name briefly breaking through your stupor. “Being a pain in my ass, as usual.” 

You break away from Johnny’s mouth but can’t seem to stop the gentle rolling of your hips. Instead you bury your face in his neck, hoping for some reprieve from the embarrassment that has your face aflame, from the shame that seems to be doing nothing but whetting the ache between your legs. 

“Johnny,” you whine quietly. “Be fair.” 

“What’s unfair?” he breathes. He jerks his hips up against you softly. “Oh—this? You want me to stop? Just say the word.” 

You chance a glance toward Simon and find that he still has the phone pressed to his ear, but his eyes are focused firmly on you and Johnny, his expression of greater intensity than usual: brows lower, eyes darker, scarred mouth barely parted, like he has something to say but can’t. He meets your eyes and hums something noncommittal into the phone. You wonder if he’s paying attention to the call at all. 

Simon turns his eyes away. He reaches down and grips the hem of his shirt, lifts it up to wipe at his dripping brow, and it gives you a glance of his body: pale and scarred, but so fucking strong, muscled with a nice layer of padding. Fuck, they are both so painfully beautiful. You realize that Johnny has stopped his gentle ministrations on your hips and that now all the movement is due to you: you’re the one grinding against his hard cock. You hide in his neck again, placing sloppy kisses against his steady pulse. 

“That’s it,” Johnny mutters, barely loud enough for you to hear. His hands slip around to cup your arse. “Does that feel good?” 

You nod. Anything would feel good after so much time spent on the most innocent of foreplay, anything would feel good with how swollen and wet you were. Johnny’s hands press against you, lengthening your strokes, turning your hasty, jerky movements into slow, sensual rolls of your hips, maximizing the contact between you both. 

“Sit up, I want to see you,” he whispers. Your head is so full of cotton that you do, forgetting for a moment that Simon is there. He’s watching you again, one hand braced against the countertop, dark eyes watching the way you grind against his husband’s cock, knuckles white where he grips the phone and presses it to his ear, giving the occasional grunt to whomever is on the other line. Johnny says: “Fuck, yer beautiful.” 

You ignore that, unwilling to let him fluster you any more than you already are. Instead you brace your hands against his chest and quicken your hips, feeling the coil inside your belly twist tight. You’ve needed to cum since last night, since Johnny first kissed you with Simon right there watching. All you want is to feel that sweet burst of pleasure, to let it rise up like high tide and drown you. Johnny’s hands smooth along your thighs and up your belly and cup the fullness of your breasts, and that’s all you need to cover your face, mouth falling open as a painfully embarrassing sound is torn from your throat. Your body is wracked with shivers as your pussy clenches tight around nothing, and you’d forgotten over the years just how unsatisfying these kinds of orgasms could be. You needed something inside you, something you could clench down on, if only Johnny had been willing to give it to you. 

A door clicks shut. Your misty eyes open to find that Simon is gone. 

“Beautiful,” Johnny says, drawing you back down into his arms for a kiss. Against your mouth, he mutters: “Yer perfect.” 

“We scared off Simon,” you groan, forehead resting against his own. Beneath you, his cock is still hard, reminding you that he still hasn’t cum yet—likely can’t with just this level of stimulation. 

“Yeah, he’s scared t’ death,” Johnny says, eyes rolling, his hands smoothing up and down the small of your back. “Probably already got his cock out in the next room.” 

You frown. That wouldn’t make any sense. You decide to focus on what does make sense—helping Johnny find his own pleasure. Reaching down, you lightly trail your fingers over his clothed cock, feeling positively electric when he gives a shaky sigh, cock jerking beneath your tentative touch. 

“Want some help?” you ask. 

He just gives you a soft smile. “Actually, I know just the person who’s going to help me.” 

-

When Johnny enters the bedroom, Simon is nowhere in sight. The light coming from beneath the ensuite door tells him all he needs to know. He raps his knuckles against the door and waits, unable to help the grin that stretches his mouth and the way his cock nudges at the fly of his denim. The door opens and a hand reaches out, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him in, pressing him back against the door with enough force to rattle the knob. 

“Hi love,” Johnny coos. “How was your run?” 

Simon kisses him, sucks on his full lower lips, licks into his open mouth like it is a cup he can drink his fill from. Johnny meets him with equal fervor, his hands falling to find Simon’s belt already undone, his cock already free and hard. It’s a warm, familiar weight in his palm as he strokes his lover and thumbs at the leaking head. 

“Not—not being subtle at all,” Johnny warns him. 

Simon just grunts in between kisses. 

“What, can you taste her on me?” Johnny teases. 

Simon groans and buries his face in the crook of Johnny’s neck where you had buried your own. He presses his mouth to every mark you left behind, teases your teeth marks with his own, hips thrusting into the tight fist of Johnny’s hand. 

“You’re not subtle either,” Simon grits out, palms placed flat on the oak door, pinning Johnny in place. “She’s going to catch on that you’re trying to play matchmaker.” 

“I’m not aiming for subtle,” Johnny breathes. He presses Simon back with a palm against his chest and drops to his knees, even as Simon’s eyes tighten with disapproval, knowing Johnny can’t remain in the position long. Johnny just grins, easy and lighter than he’s felt in weeks. “I’ve got about five minutes before my leg starts killin’ me…think you can cum before then?” 

“I think that depends on how good your mouth treats me,” Simon says. 

“I’d better get to work then, hadn’t I?”

[heliads]

Something More

Based on this request: "a jealous four. reader isnt oblivious and sees the way four looks and acts with her but she gets tired of him taking long to shoot his shot so she starts flirting with another dude to make him jealous"

request sourced freshly from wattpad

masterlist

Something in this room is driving you mad. You can feel the weight of it pinned directly between your shoulder blades like a knife, following you relentlessly no matter where you go. You can pace back and forth across the training room, you can traverse the whole of the Dauntless complex, but you still know it’s there, he’s there. Watching. Waiting. 

Four. 

It is not an aggressive stare, this, it does not make you afraid, far from it. Four is not a threat to you, nor, you think, he will ever be. He is simply looking, simply observing, but for some reason that act has the power to completely throw you off kilter. 

Maybe it’s because he is only ever looking at you like this. Yes, that must be it. Four is an instructor, he has the responsibility to watch everyone here to keep them from harming themselves or others, but something is different when he’s around you. Instead of passively observing, he’s well and truly looking at you, like he likes what he sees and wants to see more, too. 

You try to put it out of your mind. Four is not your concern here, or not so anything more than the fact that he’s one of your initiation instructors and you’re trying not to get dropped before you enter the faction properly. It’s not Four’s fault if you get distracted by his attention. It’s not Four’s fault if it only ever leaves you wanting something more. 

As time goes on, though, and that something more never comes, you start to chafe against the constant pressure of his attention even more than before. He treats you differently than the other initiates, but only slightly, only ever enough to make you dream of the possibility of something changing down the line. He’ll never give you more than the time of day, but from the way he won’t ever stop his constant affiliation with you, you can’t escape the idea that maybe, just maybe, he wants that something more just as much as you do. 

The end of Phase One of Dauntless initiation draws ever closer, and Four fails to act on anything he may or may not be feeling. You could be wrong, of course, he could mean nothing by his ever present attention, but you’re not willing to take the risk of letting a small something fade away and be forgotten once initiation is over. 

If Four will not do something, well, then, the burden of acting on these impulses falls to you. Tricking an initiation leader into revealing his hand won’t be the easiest task in the world, but you’re not one to back down from a challenge. Four should know that, seeing as he’s so inclined to marking your every action. He should know that you would provoke him like this, and he should have seen it coming from quite far off indeed. 

You need one more person in your scheme to get under Four’s skin. You find your target with ease— Thomas, a dark haired boy also in your initiation class,  close enough to your rank that you won’t have to worry about keeping him close but just enough below that you’ll be able to drop him without needing to fear retaliation. Thomas is fast, smart, strong, all the things that would perhaps give someone like Four cause for concern. In short, he is perfect, and so the plan is laid. 

Next morning, you ask Thomas if he wants to spar together the next morning, just to practice. He nods readily; you’re one of the best people here, it’s why you thought Four started paying attention to you in the first place, up until the point when he stayed there in your corner even when you made mistakes. The two of you head to a fighting ring near the side of the training hall, and if you specifically chose the one right in Four’s line of vision, well, no one needs to notice that but the two of you.

You jump up and down, trying to get some blood back into your muscles. Across the ring, Thomas does the same. He grins at you, evidently proud that you’ve chosen him of all the other eligible fighters. “Hope you aren’t looking for a victory, Y/N, because I’m going to kick your ass.”

He’s grinning, though, so you smile back. “You wish. When we’re done, you’ll have more broken bones than everyone in the med wing combined.”

“Promise?” Thomas asks, laughing, and lunges for you. You roll just in time, hitting the ground right before him. 

Usually, this is the part where you get right back up again, ready to take him down for good. However, your primary motive for this little endeavor isn’t necessarily to win, just to get someone’s eyes on you. So, you stay down, grappling with Thomas so he has no choice but to pin you, up until the point where you escape out from under him and do the same.

Thomas raises a brow suggestively. “You know, I may have lost that round, but I’m kind of happy anyway.”

You grin. “Does that mean you’re fine with losing again? I’m sure my ranking and I won’t have any problems with that.”

Thomas opens his mouth to retort, but he’s cut off by the sound of an irritable shout. It’s Four, arms folded so tightly across his chest that he looks a few seconds away from breaking a rib. “Focus, initiates! You’re not here to talk.”

When you glance over at him, you can’t help but smirk at how furious he looks. Everything is going according to plan, then, he’s jealous, just as expected. He may be in charge of everyone here today, but damn if you can’t play him like any other. Looks like all that talk about so few fears and so much bravery doesn’t stand in the face of plain old envy.

In a great show of reluctance, you get off of Thomas, extending your hand to help him up. He takes it, knuckles lingering over yours for a few moments longer than necessary. You can just make out Four’s silhouette over Thomas’ shoulder, how every fiber in his body seems to radiate with barely controlled anger.

You can only push a ruse so far before it becomes too obvious, though, so you drop Thomas’ hand and get back into a fighting position. This time, you try a little harder to win, exchanging punches and kicks for a good period of time before ‘accidentally’ dropping your guard and letting Thomas tackle you around the middle. He’s obviously in the mood to play around too, and takes his time spinning you in the air before placing you carefully on the ground.

“You better watch yourself,” he says, breath uneven from the exertion of the fight, “I think I’m catching up to you.”

You look up at him, eyes half-lidded. Thomas’ dark hair falls around his face, given the impression of a halo by the light right behind his head. All of a sudden, though, he’s ripped away, and the blinding light falls onto your face to reveal a newcomer. You didn’t hear Four climb up onto the platform of the fighting ring, nor did you detect him coming so close until he pushed Thomas away from you.

Four’s face is a dark slate, devoid of any emotion except a sharp, cold fury. His voice is clipped when he speaks, and when he tells you to meet him outside, now, Thomas actually jumps out of his way. Thomas flashes you an apologetic look as you go, but you can’t find it within you to return it. After all, this isn’t a punishment, not for you. 

In fact, this is exactly what you wanted. A scene, a public show, some sign that Four would be willing to transgress his perfect picture of leadership to make his feelings known to you. You may have forced his hand more than a little, sure, but all’s well that ends well.

The door slams shut behind you, abandoning both you and Four to the dark emptiness of the hall outside the training room. All the other initiates are somewhere inside that cavernous chamber, running laps or practicing their form, and the other Dauntless are at their jobs. No one would see the two of you, then. No one would see what transpired here at all save you and him and the beating tension between the two of you.

Four’s face doesn’t lose its chill even when Thomas is out of sight. “Do you want to tell me what that was?”

You shrug as casually as you can. “I was sparring with a friend. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

“Oh, really?” Four asks, “A friend? That’s what you call whatever that little display was?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell him. It’s far more fun to play the innocence card as long as you can, it certainly doesn’t help Four’s temper.

Four scoffs. “Of course you do. You think I didn’t see how often you were looking at me? That whole time you were with him, purposefully going easy so he could keep his hands on you. You think I wanted to see that?”

“I don’t know,” you repeat, “You haven’t given me any reason to think otherwise. All you do is stand there and watch. Maybe one of us had to do something.”

“So that’s what this was?” Four asks, brows raised, “You wanted to do something? I’ll show you something.”

You’re expecting the kiss, you have been all morning, but that doesn’t stop the breath from leaving your lungs in one rapid rush when it finally happens. His hand is on the back of your neck, keeping you there, with him, in that moment. It feels like drowning, but the thought of living after this is such an inconceivable notion that you’d rather just let the waters claim you whole.

He breaks away eventually, unfortunately, and even in the shadows of the corridor with his face only bare millimeters away from yours you can still tell that he’s proud of himself, corners of his lips twisted up in victory. “Was it worth it?” He asks slowly.

You let out a half-laugh, a needy breath taking over the rest. “It was,” you decide.

“Good,” he tells you, and kisses you again, just so you can be sure. Perhaps jealousy has its merits after all.

divergent tag list: @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent, @imwaysthelastchoice, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @crazyhearttragedy, @alex-1967s-blog

[odoraful]

𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐄𝐘𝐄

it was one of the few days zayne had returned home earlier than sunset. he opened the door to the apartment to find you painting your nails. after a shower and some short pleading on your part, he was seated in front of you, hands laid out on the table for you to do his nails.

content: zayne x fem!reader; established relationship; small banter! ; greyson apperance; ~1k words a/n: i've been dipping in and out of writing, so i thought i'd make something short to get me back into practice :)

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“Hand tremors aren’t good for dexterity, you know,” Zayne quipped, gazing at your expression as you applied the polish.

You looked up at him through your lashes and he smirked at the flat stare you gave him. With a slight tilt of his head, he enjoyed how animated your reactions were to his remarks. Towel-dried hair brushed past his brows, framing his discerning hazel eyes. Did he always need to be this handsome while poking fun at you? Your hands weren’t shaky before, but they certainly felt so now.

“Oh hush.”

Putting the brush back in the bottle to collect more polish, you reset your focus.

“Just ‘cause you’re a surgeon, doesn’t mean you’d make a good nail artist,” you retorted, bringing your eyes back to your work.

You were currently on the last nail, painting it a navy blue to match the others you already finished. Zayne’s nails were well kept and trimmed short, making for a perfect canvas for you. Whilst it was rare for surgeons to wear polish, he assured that it wouldn’t be an issue so long as it did not chip. He wanted you to do it for him, anyway. Having your undivided attention on him was a perfect way to unwind after a long day at the hospital.

“And what other qualifiers need to be met besides a still hand?” he asked, teasing giving way to curiousity.

You finished up the last nail with a few glides of the brush. “An eye for aesthetics,” you declared, moving the blue nail polish aside and selecting two more colours among your collection.

“Now, pick the colour for the design.”

You presented two colours to him. A cool silver embedded with fine glitter, and a rustic gold. His eyes flicked between the two. Mind having been made up almost the second you asked.

“Silver.”

You hummed. “An excellent choice.” Shaking the polish, the glitter dispersed throughout. “Perhaps you might consider nail tech as a side job, Dr Zayne.”

Waiting for his nails to dry before you could begin the next layer, you lightly fanned them with both your hands. He chuckled—both at your comment and your cute attempt to try and speed the drying process.

“My primary job keeps me busy enough,” he replied. “Besides, I don’t have much of an eye for aesthetics.”

You were reminded of the palette of his closet. Blacks, greys, browns, and the only splash of colour being a deep green shirt. Though somewhat monotone, it did suit him well.

He continued, “I think I’ll leave that expertise up to my girlfriend.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Mouth opened ever so slightly, not wanting to reveal the way every use of that nickname slipped under your skin and made your heart skip.

You began to draw tiny snowflakes on each of them with the silver polish. Zayne admired the furrowed concentration on your face as you were locked into this task. When the design had dried, you finished by squeezing some cream onto his hands. He let out a soft sigh as you massaged it in, feeling the tension of the day release under your gentle touch.

Once you were done, you stretched your arms out and twisting around to crack your back. You held his fingers in your hands, inspecting them.

“Look how pretty they are!” You bubbled.

Zayne was honestly floored. The level of coordination it took to paint something so small was incredible.

“They’re very pretty indeed.”

You were too enthralled by your own work to see the warm smile on his face at how satisfied you were.

“Now, that’ll be sixty dollars,” you said, looking up at him smugly, placing your hands on your hips in waiting.

Zayne lifted a brow. “Do you accept payment in desserts?”

“Hm… an interesting offer,” you placed a hand on your chin in mock thought. “What kind?”

“Will each flavour of macaron at the shop that just opened suffice?” he replied. The sparkle in your eyes signalled that it was more than enough to cover the cost of your service. Promptly, the two of you went outside to resolve his payment. You walked hand in hand, matching one another with freshly painted nails.

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EPILOGUE

At Akso Hospital the next day, peoples’ gazes lingered a little too long on Zayne. As he handed out folders to nurses and gestured to screens when presenting, eyes trailed on his hands. Now, it wasn’t unusual for doctors to wear polish, but it was unusual for Zayne to have it. Another layer of mystery to unravel about the cardiac surgeon.

Greyson entered Zayne’s office to drop off some documents, sliding them towards him on his desk. “Going to some fancy event later?”

Zayne adjusted his glasses, not looking away from his computer screen. “Unless you consider a seminar at the university as fancy, I’m not sure what you’re implying.”

He gestured towards the keyboard Zayne was typing on. “I’m talking about your nails! Don’t tell me you really just got them done for fun?” Greyson asked, incredulous.

“I did.” Zayne splayed his hand out. “Is that so strange?”

“No! Not at all!” Greyon reassured, shaking his head fervently. “They do look nice though,” he admitted. “Maybe I should get their number so I can get mine done too.”

“She doesn’t take up new clientele, unfortunately,” Zayne said, resuming his typing.

At such a quick defence, Greyson immediately clocked who this person was. He was one of the few that were privy to the relationship between you and Zayne, and he knew only you could make Dr Zayne change up his style.

Exaggerating a sigh, he turned to leave. “A true shame! She sure seems talented.”

“I’ll make sure to pass that on to her,” he heard Zayne reply. Though his back was to Zayne, the smile in his voice as he answered was undeniable.

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