#he definitely wanted the reader to take it easy

[scribes-of-valar]

𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝐴𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝐵𝑜𝑦

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| ᴄʟᴀʀᴋ ᴋᴇɴᴛ x fem! reader

A/N: I watched maybe two seasons of this show last year and kind of moved past it. I randomly got a Clark Kent fic on my feed last night and suddenly I have a demon in my brain telling me to write. Anyway, there is a horrendous lack of full fledged, non-smut fics for this man, so, here you go.

Summary: Your friend has been distant for months, all of a sudden he's a brand new man. He's practically a puppy dog following after you and you're not sure how to feel. What's a girl to do when she suddenly finds herself looking at not one, but two Clark Kent's?

“Have any plans?” You pull your English book from your locker, fingers stilling as you wait for Clark to respond. Silence stretches between you, long enough to make your brows furrow in confusion. Peering around the edge of your locker door with narrowed eyes, you let out a sigh. 

You should have seen this coming. As always, Clark is staring at Lana from across the hall, looking like he walked straight out of a sappy romance movie. 

She’s close, so close, but entirely out of his reach. She laughs, tucking a perfect, shiny strand of hair behind her ear, completely unaware of the way Clark pines for her. Always pining. Always looking at her like she’s the only girl in the world. 

You could gag. 

Slamming your locker shut, perhaps harder than necessary, you break Clark out of his trance as he flinches away from the noise. His head snaps toward you, blue eyes narrowed on the irritated scrunch of your face. You smile, forcing the snark out of your expression. 

“Did you say something?” His voice is kind, expression open, as though he’s finally ready to listen. But the bell rings, cutting into the moment. You only have a minute to sprint to the other side of school. 

“No,” you sigh, forcing the stilted smile to stay on your face, “I gotta go.”

“I’ll walk with you,” he offers, falling into step beside you. “That way you can tell me what you actually said,” he teases, giving you that familiar boyish grin that never fails to make you unravel. 

You bite your tongue for a moment, mind unraveling as you struggle with telling him the truth or not. This is stupid. He’s Clark, your best friend. Your stupid, oblivious, beautiful best friend. But the way he looks at you, soft and warm as he slows his stride so he can walk together a little longer. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to ask. 

No. It will definitely still hurt. 

“Would you want to do something this weekend?” You rush it all out at once and immediately look away from him, terrified by what you might see on his face. 

There’s a beat of silence. Then Clark laughs, light and easy. Your stomach twists and your head shoots up, a disbelieving glare on your face. You’d known it would be unlikely that he’d return your feelings, but laughing seems below him. 

“Why’re you being so weird?” He shakes his head, still grinning. “We’ll just do a movie night like always.” He squeezes your shoulder, casual, friendly, a wholly innocent gesture. Nothing more and nothing different. It’s completely platonic to him, as it always is. It takes you a moment to realize that he took what you were saying the wrong way. Or, maybe this is just the gentlest way he knows how to let you down. 

“Right,” you struggle to keep your voice even but it doesn’t matter, the dejection slips through your tone. His smile falters slightly and he looks like he wants to say something when the shrill ring of the bell interrupts you both.

“I’ll see you later,” he offers but he sounds uncertain. Most of your plans have fallen through lately. Either because he was busy with Lana or off disappearing somewhere. You’re not sure, but you know the divide is growing larger between you both and you’re getting scared you’re going to lose him. 

“Sure,” you give him a flat smile and he hovers beside you for a moment, like he wants to fix this but doesn’t know how. 

“You’re going to be late,” you startle slightly and glance over your shoulder. Blake, a boy you share your English class with offers you a shy smile as he hovers by the door, holding it open for you to walk through.  

“Thanks,” you walk past them both and into class, not wanting to look at Clark any longer. You miss the sharp look Blake shoots Clark and the way your friend lingers by the door for a minute before rushing off to his own class. 

You slide into your seat, lucky to have gotten in before Mrs. Brown, lord knows she would love to make a spectacle of anyone being tardy. Blake follows not far behind you, slipping into the seat beside you as always. He’s nice enough, quiet, unassuming. You’ve never said more than a few words to each other, but right now all of his attention seems to be on you. 

He whispers your name and you give him a brief glance and smile, mind still wrapped up in Clark. “Um, I was going to ask,” he stutters over his words for a moment, swallowing thickly before finally meeting your eye. “Are you doing anything this weekend?”

“Yeah,” you answer absentmindedly. “I have plans with Clark,” you tell him shortly as Mrs. Brown walks in. You don’t have time to explain that you’ll probably just end up waiting around your house all weekend. Just to get a brief and incomprehensible explanation of why you were all alone on Monday. 

He sinks back in his seat with a sigh just as the teacher begins writing the assignment on the board. You shoot him a slightly concerned look before brushing the interaction off as nothing.

Standing in the line at The Talon has become almost a hobby for you. Not just because Clark drags you here constantly, but because he distracts Lana from actually taking any orders. The wait time seems to triple every time he walks into the shop. You hear people grumbling behind you and finally move toward Clark, breaking the unspoken rule of leaving him and Lana alone. 

“There’s a line, Clark,” you sing-song, warning him. The both of them flush, breaking their hushed conversation and shooting you a sheepish look. 

“I’m sorry,” Lana apologizes and you wave her off. “Do you want anything?” 

You’d been considering getting a muffin, but when you look over and see the lovesick smile Clark is giving her, you find your appetite has disappeared. “Uh, no, I’m good.”

Clark turns toward you with a soft frown and he nearly makes you forget just how much you resent him for dragging you along to see this. “I thought you were hungry.”

You glance back at Lana and find her eyes already on him. God, what’s the point of a breakup if you’re still obsessed with each other? “No, it’s alright.”

You move away from the counter to step outside, expecting him to stay there and continue flirting despite the angry customers behind them. You’re surprised when you hear his voice immediately beside you. 

“Hey,” he moves away from the door, a grin on his face. Face wrinkling in confusion, you nod your head in greeting even though you’d just seen him. Your eyes narrow in on the leather of his jacket and your head tilts in confusion. You swear he was wearing a zip up a moment ago. “What’re you doing?” He asks, tone light as he stands beside you closer than he normally would. 

“Uh,” you’re tempted to glance over your shoulder and make sure he isn’t still standing in The Talon. “Did you hit your head?” He flushes slightly and you laugh. “Just our usual friday endeavors, you moon over Lana and I hold back the mob of angry customers who just want a coffee.” Laughing to ease some of your own tension, it trails off when you see the smile drop from his face. 

His eyes narrow and he glances toward the shop, “Idiot,” he mutters. You shoot him an affronted look and he blanches, quickly correcting himself. “Me, not you.” You want to question him further but he slings an arm over your shoulder and redirects you away from the shop. Mind a blank slate, you feel your brain break slightly at the simple touch. 

When you were younger, before Lana, before either of you even knew what crushes were, something like this would mean nothing to you. As it is, though, your friendship seems to have dwindled to nothing but compulsory hangouts and the occasional conversation in the hallway. Something as simple as his arm around you has turned into everything for you. 

“So, what are we doing tonight?” 

“Movies at your place, like usual,” you remind him. He must have slipped and hit his head on the way out of The Talon.  Either that, or he already forgot the plans you made just this morning. Neither would surprise you. 

His face screws up and he shakes his head, “God, that’s lame.” You scoff, shooting him an odd look, not bothering to remind him that it was his idea. “I mean what’s he-” 

Clark cuts himself off, glancing down at you before letting out a short laugh. “How ‘bout the fair?”

You reach up and press the back of your hand to his forehead. He gives you a bewildered laugh, taking your hand in his and grinning. “What are you doing?”

You lean back slightly, breathless at the awestruck way he’s looking at you. You’ve only ever seen him look at…

Lana, you’ve only ever seen a look like this directed at Lana. But now, those deep blue eyes are pulling you in and you feel helpless to fight them. You swallow hard, blinking while you try to remember what you were even going to say. 

“Uh,” licking your lips you don’t miss the way his eyes track the movement. “I was seeing if you had a fever. Since when do you want to go out?” 

He laces your fingers together and tugs you forward, “Since now.” 

Usually, you’re not so quick to look a gift horse in the mouth. Months, you’ve been praying he treats you with even a semblance of care he throws toward Lana. Now, you finally get it and you can’t help the sick tightening feeling in your stomach telling you this is all wrong.

The fair is less crowded than you had expected. Though, it is nearly the last day it’s in town, you suppose everyone’s already had their fill of it. You have been trying to get Clark to come with you for nearly a week, maybe this is why he had waited so long to join you. Some of the rides you actually got all to yourself. 

“You know these things are rigged,” you tease, watching as he tries and fails at the bottle toss for the third time. The bored teenage girl behind the booth briefly glances up from her book to glare at you both. You shoot her a sardonic smile and she turns to Clark. 

“You can just buy the stuffed animal, ya know?” She drawls. 

“That’s cheating-”

“Where’s the fun in that-”

You and Clark share a grin as you speak over each other. The girl pales at your joined voices and returns quickly to her book, muttering something about annoying couples. 

Your stomach flutters at the idea of you and Clark as a couple but you push it down. “Alright,” Clark chuckles and holds his arm out for you, “let’s get out of here.”

You slip your arm through his easily, smiling up at him. You’ve long since stopped questioning just how touchy he is. Clearly, he’s in a generous mood tonight and you feel like taking advantage of that as much as possible.

“Where to next?” He asks and your eyes crawl across the fairground, struggling to find something you haven’t already done. 

You toss what must be your third lemonade in the closest bin and shoot him a sheepish smile. “I think I’ll need to go to the bathroom before we do any more rides.”

He’s slow to let you go, hand drifting down to hold yours as he steps back. “I’ll wait by the ferris wheel,” he tells you lowly. 

Your cheeks flush, eyes widening slightly as you slip away from him. The ferris wheel is notorious among Smallville students as the place to make a move. Everyone knows it’s just couples that ride up in those rickety old cars. Still, Clark is slightly oblivious to stuff like that. You don’t want to get your hopes up just for it to ultimately be nothing more than a friendly outing. 

Rushing toward the sad group of Port-a-potties you let out an annoyed sigh when you see the long line awaiting you. Your foot bounces against the dirt impatiently as you peer around the girl in front of you just to see there has to be, at least, ten people before you. 

There’s a vibration in your pocket before you hear the shrill ringing of your Nokia. Digging it out of your jeans you answer without checking the contact. “Hello?” The girl in front of you shoots you a dirty look and you take a step back from her. 

“Hey, where’re you?” You frown at the sound of Clark’s voice, glancing around like you might be able to spot him in the crowd. You’d told him where you were going, why would he be calling?

“You know where I am,” you tell him, chuckling. 

There’s a slight huff on the other end and you frown, he almost sounds disappointed. “What are you talking about? We were supposed to watch movies tonight.”

“Okay, Clark, I’m officially concerned. You’ve been acting weird all day. We’re at the fair,” you say slowly, over-enunciating your words like he’s slow. “You said movies were going to be lame.”

There’s a long pause and he utters your name in a concerningly serious tone. “The person you’re with-”

“Alright, do you mind?” The girl in front of you whips around and snaps at you. Blanching, you lower the phone from your ear and she shoots you an incredibly dirty look. 

“Clark, I’ll see you in a few minutes,” you whisper into the phone. 

“Wait-” 

You cut him off, hanging up and shoving your phone in your back pocket. She turns back around and rolls her eyes. It doesn’t take long for your Nokia to start ringing again but you figure you’ll just meet Clark by the ferris wheel like he said. 

Low groaning drifts through the noises of the crowd and makes you pause. Tilting your head around the corner of a trailer, the sounds only grow louder. Everything inside you says not to investigate, but the person sounds like they’re genuinely in pain. You can’t just walk away. 

“Hey,” you call out softly. “Are you okay?”

There’s no response and you take a hesitant step closer. A scuffed white converse slips from behind the back of the trailer and it looks worryingly similar to Clark’s. “Clark?” You call out, creeping a little further into the dark. 

It’s like a cocoon of silence back here, as though the shadows swallow the voices and loud cheering sounds of the games beyond you. “No,” the small voice croaks out. You see a hand in the dirt and they begin dragging themselves forward. You jump back a step, heart picking up as you watch them get to their feet. 

This was a stupid idea, walking toward a stranger in the dark. Even in Smallville you couldn’t trust everyone. They finally turn and you let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, Blake, hey.”

He gives you a weak grimace, clutching his stomach like he’s in pain. “Hi.”

“Are you okay?” You ask, taking a step closer to him, trying to get a better look. 

“Fine, fine,” he stutters out, shifting just enough to keep his face half-hidden in the shadows.  Even knowing the person lurking within the shadows, you still feel slightly on edge. Something about the way he moves unsettles you. It’s not as though you know him well, he’s just a classmate. Someone quiet and harmless. Or, you hope he’s harmless, right now there’s something about him that feels wrong.

“Alright, um, if you’re sure,” you take a careful step backward. Your foot’s barely back on the ground when he lunges forward. His hands stretch toward you like he’s about to snatch you into the shadows with him. You’re stuck deciding whether you’re going to scream or bite him when he jerks back like a puppet being yanked on a string.  

“Sorry, sorry,” he blurts out, breathless. “Clark walked by. He- he told me to tell you he was leaving.”

Your stomach twists with panic. Right now you care more about not getting your throat slit in a dark alley than you do about Clark ditching you. Without a second thought, you turn on your heel and run out from between the trailers. You swear you hear footsteps, quick and light, following your path to the cars. 

Sliding into your car, you lock your doors and peel out of the lot. You leave the fair, and whatever just happened, behind, not looking back. The phone in your pocket vibrates again but you ignore it, too freaked out by what just happened to bother answering.  

Someone calls your name and you peer around the edge of your locker door, grimacing when you see Blake walking toward you. His brown hair is a mess, like he’s been fussing with it all morning, and his thick glasses, normally perched precariously on his nose, are nowhere to be seen. His normal polished clothes look like they’re three sizes too big and you frown.  

“Hey,” you drag the word out, trying to sound polite even if his outburst last night left you feeling incredibly unsettled. “Feeling any better?” You hesitate to meet his eyes, and when you do, your annoyance only deepens. 

He’s watching you expectantly, like he’s waiting for something. 

“Did you need anything?” You ask, voice trailing off as you close your locker and take two deliberate steps back. 

Blake’s brows furrow and he almost looks hurt before his expression smooths over into something startling unreadable. “Um, no, I’m sorry,” his gaze drifts past you. The color drains from his face and you barely have a second to process the oddity of this conversation before he turns on his heel and goes barrelling down the hall.

“Hey,” Clark’s familiar voice cuts through your confusion, and you turn to see him striding toward you. Gone is the easy, playful grin he wore last night. He looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him, intent on something. “We need to talk,” he tells you, tone grave. 

“I know,” you snipe, not bothering to hide your irritation at just leaving you alone at the fair last night. You aren’t surprised, he’s been doing that for weeks now. What stings is that, for a little while, you had felt like you were actually friends again, only for him to ruin it. 

His brow furrows and he glances around the empty hallway with a frown. “Look, we can’t talk here, but-”

The warning bell rings, cutting him off. “Shit,” you mutter, shoving your books into your bag and turning away from Clark. He calls your name but you wave him off. “Later, Clark, I can’t be late again.” He watches you go with a frown, running a hand through his hair before turning toward his own class. 

Not even ten minutes later you spot him walking past Mrs. Brown’s room. Though, you swear he was wearing a red shirt not a green one. You could be wrong, it’s not as if you had long to take in his outfit.

You figure he’s just passing by and go back to taking your notes. There’s a light hiss from the door and you frown, looking up to see him hovering in the doorway and waving you forward. You glare toward Mrs. Brown’s back and shake your head. No way, you mouth. 

Clark gives you a pleading look, frowning and motioning you forward again. You know that look, you’ve been on the receiving end of it for years now. He’s clearly not going to let go of whatever  he was badgering you about this morning. 

“Can I go to the bathroom?” You call out, not bothering raising your hand. The old bat’s half-blind, you doubt she’d see it anyway. 

She answers without even bothering to turn around and face you. “If you need to use the restroom, you do so before my class,” her shaky voice calls out with a huff. 

You roll your eyes and grab your bag, stuffing your books in it as she turns back to the board. There’s no point in arguing with her, she’s never going to give in. You wait until she drops her eraser. The second she bends over to grab it, you’re bolting toward the door. Clark grabs your arm, dragging you behind him.

He makes a break for the end of the hall, blowing past the geometry class he’s meant to be in. He busts through the school doors and leads you quickly through the courtyard. “Clark,” you hiss, trying to hold back a laugh at the stupid grin on his face. “What the hell is going on with you today?”

He glances over his shoulder at you, eyes alight with mischief, “Come on, you can’t tell me you actually want to listen to her rambling on about Shakespeare for an hour.”

You can’t argue with that, but he hasn’t done a jail bust for you in a while. Especially not during one of the few classes he shares with Lana. “No, I didn’t,” you pause as you realize he’s leading you to your car and not his truck. “Am I driving?”

“Truck didn’t start this morning,” he tells you shortly, not bothering with any further explanation. You swear you saw him drive in this morning but you could be wrong. It’s not like he’s the only kid driving his dad’s old busted truck in this town. “I’ll drive, though, you won’t know where we’re going.”

“Ominous,” you snark as he takes your hand in his, directing you toward the passenger door. Gentle hands push you up against the side of the car and he ducks down, leaning into your space. You crane your neck up, flushing slightly at the proximity. Any closer and you could kiss him. 

“Well?” He questions softly, lips curling up in a half-smile that makes you want to melt. You blink, forgetting what you were doing before you notice his outstretched, open, palm. Swallowing thickly you take your keys out of your bag and place them in his hand. “Thanks,” he ducks down, soft lips pressed against your cheek before rounding the front of the car. 

Your hand drifts toward your cheek, a bewildered smile on your face as you try and regulate your breathing. “What the hell?” You mutter, shaking your head slightly. Turning around, you open the car door and slip into the passenger seat. 

Clark greets you with a grin, scooping your hand up in his as he pulls out of the school parking lot. You don’t want to think about the trouble you’re going to be in tomorrow, all you can focus on is how good Clark’s hand feels in yours. 

“I’m really starting to feel like I’m getting kidnapped,” you joke, head tilting to look out the window. The golden fields stretch endlessly, rolling past in waves as the car gets further from town. Houses become scarce, replaced by sprawling farmland and grazing cattle. The further you go, the more isolated you feel. 

Clark chuckles, but there’s something off about the sound, a slight wheeze, a strain where there wasn’t before. His face crumples and he turns away from you, his knuckles turn white around the steering wheel from his tight grip. 

“Are you okay?” You reach instinctively toward him but he jerks his hand back. You gasp, jumping back when you catch a glimpse of his face. It ripples, the skin shifting unnaturally, as if something beneath it is struggling to break free. 

“Oh no,” Clark groans, voice strained. His entire body spasms and his hands slip from the wheel. The car lurches violently to the side, tires screeching against the pavement. Panic surges through you, hands bracing against the door as you shout his name. 

He curls into himself, muscles seizing, leaving the car veering out of control. The telephone pole ahead rushes toward you, growing larger by the second. You throw yourself forward, grasping at the wheel, desperately trying to steer, but Clark’s foot slams against the gas instead of the brake. 

Everything happens too fast. A blur flashes in front of the windshield. Then, a sudden stop. Your body flies forward, arms bracing against the dashboard as your head whips forward and back, pain rattling through your spine. 

You whine in discomfort, slowly sitting up and trying to take in your surroundings. The passenger door is ripped open. You flinch, recoiling instinctively and sending a shock of pain down your body. Your breath stutters as someone ducks their head inside, a startling familiar pair of blue eyes find yours.  

“Clark?” You whisper, gaze flicking to the seat beside you where Clark still sits, doubled over, his breathing ragged. 

The Clark outside the car reaches in and gently pulls you out. Warm, calloused hands skate carefully over your arms and shoulders. He cups the back of your neck, tilting your head up, thumbs gently smoothing over your jaw as he looks you over. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” His voice is soft, thick with concern. His eyes briefly leave yours to double check you for any injuries he might have missed. 

Your heart pounds. This isn’t possible. You must be concussed. You blink rapidly still struggling to wrap your head around the whole two Clark’s thing when the second one stumbles out of the car. 

He steps are uneven as he rounds the fender, his entire body shaking. Your rescuer moves swiftly, placing himself between you and the other Clark. He shields you, broad shoulders tense, protective to a fault. Must be the real one. Right? You rub your aching head and frown. 

“What were you going to do with her?” The one in front of you barks the question out, his voice sharp and edged with something dangerous.

“I just,” the other one keels over, cutting himself off with a pained groan and shaking his head. “Wanted to get away,” he grits out through clenched teeth, forcing himself straight again. 

“And you had to take her with you?”

“What’s going on?” You jut in, stepping back from both of them. Facing them, you see the same wounded expression reflected on both faces. Whichever is the fake, he’s certainly mastered the puppy dog look. 

Your rescuer tries to take a step forward but you throw your hand up, keeping them both at bay until you know what’s going on. He sighs and glances over at his shoulder at the other one.  “How long have you been able to do this?” 

It's like they start a conversation in the middle and you’re completely lost.  “Last year, I never saw a use for it and it was too much of a pain. But then I realized,” he looks at you, face contorting. “You would never go for a guy like me. You couldn’t. You were too wrapped up in him,” he spits the word out with venom, nodding toward the Clark you know has to be the real one. 

“You love him and that stupid all-American smile.” He chuckles, but it breaks off into a groan as he doubles over in pain, clutching his stomach. He drops to his knees and moans through clenched teeth, clutching at his face as he folds over. The longer black hair shrinks to a dull brown, broad shoulders slimming as the clothes he wears hang loose on him.

The illusion shatters, “Oh, God, Blake?” You gasp out, taking one step toward him. He shakes his head and you stop as Clark grabs your elbow. You glance up at him but he just shoots you a soft look that has you rooted to the spot. 

“I’ve been in love with you since freshman year,” Blake chuckles, still sounding like every word hurts. “If only I figured it out earlier, it’s always going to be him. I never had a chance, did I?” His gaze flickers toward Clark before he collapses to the pavement. 

You both go running toward Blake. Pressing your trembling fingers to his neck, you let out a sigh of relief when you feel his faint heartbeat. 

“We need to get him to a hospital, fast.” You lean back from Blake, looking around for Clark’s truck, confused when you don’t see it. “Dammit, Clark, where's the truck?”

He flushes, shaking his head, “I didn’t bring it.”

You frown, “What’re you talking about?” 

He glances toward Blake, the rise and fall of his chest steadily slowing. When he looks back at you his expression is unreadable, an intensity to it that you’ve never seen before. “I need you to trust me.”

“Always,” you tell him without missing a beat. He gives you a small smile but it lacks the usual warmth. 

“Close your eyes.”

“What?” You glare at him but he just shakes his head. 

“Please,” he looks close to begging and the pulse under your grip is getting weaker. Swallowing down your confusion you close your eyes. “Thank you,” he whispers, “I’ll be back.”

You frown, feeling a rough breeze blow back your hair as your eyes shoot open. But the spot in front of you is empty and the body under your hand has disappeared. Getting to your feet, you spin in one slow circle. There’s nothing out here except golden fields, your totaled car, and you. All alone. 

Clark eventually came back for you. His truck rolling into view after being on your own for half an hour. You hadn’t talked to him the whole ride back to town, too shocked by everything that had happened. 

He carried the conversation for the both of you, offering a brief explanation that only confused you more. Blake had apparently been one of the meteor freaks, somehow being exposed to it when it had left a crater in your town. 

But Clark didn’t tell you how he made it across the highway and to the hospital in under five minutes with no car. He didn’t tell you anything that actually mattered. So, you told him to drop you off at home and you haven’t seen him in a week. 

Chloe had called you once during your self-induced isolation, just to tell you that she’d driven by Blake’s house. Apparently the entire place looked like it had been cleaned out. No sign of him or his parents anywhere. You wish you could say you care, but you don’t. You’re almost grateful he’s gone. Not only did he reveal your long held secret infatuation to Clark, he’d clearly had ill intentions as he tried to take you out of town. 

Your Nokia nearly buzzes itself off your nightstand as you set your book to the side and look at the all-too familiar contact.

Clarkie

The stupid nickname you’d given him in middle school lights up the small screen and you let out a rough sigh, watching as it rings and rings before finally quieting. The screen goes dark before lighting up once more as his ringtone fills the silence of your room. He doesn’t give up easily, you have to give him that. 

You’re not entirely sure you’re ready to face him. Not now that he knows about your feelings for him. There’s no hiding what Blake so plainly laid out for him. You sink into the comforts of the pillows on your bed and wonder if you could just live here forever. 

Something knocks against your window and you ignore it as nothing more than a branch from the tree. It’s not much longer before it happens again and you rip your hands off your face and are forced to sit up. Your phone rings once more and there’s a sinking feeling in your gut that you know exactly who waits outside your window. 

“You can’t hide forever,” comes an annoying cheerful voice from outside. You force yourself off your bed and slink toward your window. Sure enough, Clark waits below it, a boyish grin poised on his face as he looks up at you. As much as you’re avoiding him, it’s plain cruel to just leave him outside. 

Reluctantly, you open your window and he’s quick to climb your tree. You back up as he slots his broad frame through and into your room. He lets out a short huff of breath and straightens up, giving you a sheepish smile. 

Taking a seat on your bed, you find it a tad difficult to look at him. Clark sucks in a deep breath and grabs your desk chair. He straddles it, resting on the back of it and staring at you until you feel like he’s going to burn holes into the side of your face. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while.”

You hum and shrug, tucking a loose wave behind your ear. “I’ve been sick,” you lie, briefly looking up. The intense way he’s looking at you leaves you breathless and you have to take in a slow breath so your heart doesn’t kick up too much.  

“I want to tell you something.” Your head shoots up, concern lacing through you at the grave tone of his words. He looks away from you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, actually, I want to ask you something first. Is, uh,” he chuckles a little and licks his lips, a nervous tick he’s never been able to kick. “Is all that stuff that Blake said true?”

Your stomach drops, burying your face in your hands, you let out a low groan. “Oh, god,” you suck in a sharp breath, unable to look at him as heat flushes through you. 

Lying is always an option. It’s a poor option, but it’s there. Maybe, if you just lied straight through your teeth he would drop it and leave you alone. But you’ve been hiding this for so long, tucked so tightly to your chest, it would be a relief to finally be unburdened of the truth. 

“Yes,” you whisper. You don’t want to look at him, don’t want to face the truth of his rejection. Clark has been your best friend since you could walk, losing him over this stupid crush would destroy you. 

The silence drags on for too long and you feel the anxiety calling its way around you. Warmth envelops your hands and calloused palms draw them away from your face. 

You peek one eye open to find Clark kneeling before you, a soft smile on his face. “You better not be laughing at me, Kent.”

A small chuckle slips through his lips and you slap at his shoulder. He catches your hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours. “I’m not, I promise. I wish you’d told me.”

“Why? So I could ruin our friendship faster?” You snark. 

“No, so I could do this,” he darts forward, soft lips capturing yours. You freeze up, eyes wide as his hand cups the back of your neck and pulls you closer. 

There’s a brief moment of shock where you’re completely frozen. But then you feel the way his thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand. And you find yourself melting into the feeling of his embrace, eyes closing as you slowly open up to him. Your arms find their way around his neck, fingers burying themselves in the soft waves of his hair. 

The kiss itself is gentle, chaste almost. But it warms you from the inside out, makes you feel like you’re going to be nothing but a puddle of goo the longer he holds you. When he pulls back, he drags it out, lips lingering as long as they can. 

You’re slow to recover, eyes glazed over as you stare at him. He seems just as shocked, like he hadn’t expected to do that. Of course, you say the first thing that comes to mind instead of just shutting up and enjoying the moment. “What about Lana?” You blurt out, wincing the second it leaves your mouth. 

He frowns at you and shrugs, “What about her?”

“You’ve been blowing me off for months for her. We go to her shop every day just so you can stare at her. Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly discovered feelings for me. I won’t be your backup, Clark.”

He shakes his head vehemently, looking almost offended by the idea. “What? No. Of course you’re not,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes at you before sinking back on his heels with a huff. “Look, I wasn’t ditching you for her, I can explain all that,” he pauses and then quickly adds, “later.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion and he reaches up, taking your hands in his. “There’s a lot I have to tell you. But the most important thing is that I am completely over Lana.”

“Really?” You question, tone harsh but bordering almost on teasing. “You look at all your friends like that?”

He shakes his head, “No,” he pauses, “just you,” he adds with a cheeky smirk. You roll your eyes and shake your head, looking away from him. “Whatever you thought you saw between us, it was only on her end. I swear, it’s been you for a long time.”  

You look away, but he’s not accepting that, tilting your chin to face him once more. “It’s always been you,” he murmurs, voice steady, certain.

Your breath hitches, heart stuttering in your chest. Maybe this is real. Maybe it’s been you that’s been the oblivious idiot. 

You take a deep breath, meeting his gaze head-on. “Then prove it.”

His smile is slow, confident, and this time when he leans in you don’t hesitate to meet him halfway.

end. — I do not own the characters or the TV Show Smallville, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © scribes-of-valar 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[xomakara]

Baby Don't Stop

SUMMARY | You run into your old college crush, Johnny Suh, at the gym after ten years. You used to hook up back in the day, and sparks fly again. To celebrate Johnny's birthday, you go out for drinks with friends, but the night takes a turn when you confess your feelings for each other. PAIRINGS |  Johnny x Reader RATING |  Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked GENRE |  smut, romance, birthday, old flames, random fluff/comedy  CONTENT/WARNINGS | nightclub vibes, profanity, drinking, flirting, teasing, birthday sex, unprotective sex, public sex, oral sex (both male/female receiving and giving), fingering, marking, shoulder biting, hair grabbing, creampies, daddy kink, breeding/impregnation kink LENGTH |  12,974 words TAGLIST |  @lovetaroandtaemin NETWORKS |  @k-vanity @ksmutsociety AUTHOR’S NOTE |  Thank you to both @unholywriters, and @lovetaroandtaemin for beta-reading this.I really appreciate the both of you for reading this! Thank you @aaagustd for the gorgeous banner! I appreciate you all so much! Happy 30th Birthday to my man, Johnny! 💚💚

NCT Main Masterlist

"Hottie alert!" your friend darts her eyes in the direction of the man that just walked into the gym, but you ignore her gaze and keep running at your current speed, steadily jogging on the treadmill. 

It's as if your sole purpose for existing is just to get the hell on a treadmill every day and then promptly leave. You start slowing down, your mind beginning to wander as the smell of sweat and metal engulfs your senses, and your feet pounding the black material begin to slow until the belt under your feet comes to a full halt.

"Okay Miss Hot Bod," Misun rolls her eyes. "Can you stop exercising long enough to even check a guy out once? You know you need to get laid, babe."

"I don't need your help with that," you quip and shake your head.

"Well obviously, but seriously, look. He's totally your type," Misun points across the room, where he stands in a loose sleeveless tee. His biceps are well defined; his left arm adorned in tats, and he runs his fingers through his dark hair while holding a water bottle in his other hand. "That man's body is literally the definition of fuckable. Look how sculpted he is!"

Okay, you have to admit he is very easy to look at. As you stand there, your breathing slowing and the buzz of the cardio still surging through your veins, the dark haired man looks across the room right in your direction and suddenly, time feels like it's crawling as Misun's words echo through your head. He cocks his head in acknowledgement of his surroundings, as if he were trying to pick out exactly where you were amidst the sea of equipment.

You know this man from somewhere, but you can't put your finger on it. It isn't until he gets up, sets the bottle down on a mat and strides over towards you, and you spot the sunflower tattoo on his left upper forearm that recognition slaps you in the face.

Johnny. 

Johnny fucking Suh. 

The boy that was the object of your crushes back in college. But he was no longer a boy; the past decade had been kind to his body, and the subtle changes between a younger Johnny and an older Johnny just made your panties want to slide off and flutter to the ground.

He’s still as tall as you remember him being, but instead of being lean muscle, he now has a slightly larger frame to fit it. His facial features haven't really changed, but everything is just a bit sharper, a little more rugged. The moment Johnny spots you, his mouth gapes in disbelief. He chuckles, breaking into a wide grin and quickly enveloping you with a bear hug.

"Y/N! Long time no see!" He steps back, his eyes roaming the rest of your figure. You've gotten more confident than your younger self, and your gym gear only serves to highlight just that. Your form fitting workout gear leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and Johnny's eyes rake over every curve on your body. He lingers a fraction too long on the tight sports bra stretching against your chest, trying his best not to blatantly stare. He grins and breaks the silence. 

"Wow! I mean, holy shit you look so... so different," he compliments, clearly surprised at the change since the last time he'd seen you.

Back in college, the two of you used to fuck around every once in awhile; never anything serious though. You didn't have any real commitment to one another. You'd go to frat parties together, and you'd sometimes go out with mutual friends. You'd dance a bit, and you’d fuck each other silly once the alcohol kicked in, but nothing more and nothing less. And there was certainly a point in time where you really started to fall hard, because deep down you knew that you were hopelessly pining for him. But, you knew better. Johnny didn't do relationships, and Johnny certainly didn't do serious, at least not that's what you gathered, and you never felt like it was really worth bringing up either.

"Different in a good way?" you tease back.

"Oh yeah, a very good way," he checks out the new you one more time before breaking the gaze. "Wow, the past decade did you good."

"I could say the same about you, Suh," you shoot back, meeting his stare. You scan over him just as he did to you. Time and life has definitely treated him well. "Gosh, you've gotten so-"

"Different?" He laughs. "Yeah. The past few years have done my body good; the diet's improved, the job is stressful, but..." Johnny pauses for a minute and smiles fondly, and you notice the glimmer of nostalgia flicker in his eye as memories flash through his mind. He thinks for a while before speaking again. "Anyway," he breaks into a big grin and shrugs. "The past decade hasn't been half bad."

 "How's life treating you?" you ask him.

"Well I'm back in Seoul permanently now, so that's pretty exciting," he nods and greets you with another easy, kind smile. "You still hang out with Doyoung and the guys?"

"I hang out with Doyoung's wife more than I do with him now," you pointed at Misun and she waved back. You laugh softly. "But yeah, I see the guys every weekend. We're all doing well. Pretty settled down and all."

"Doyoung's married? Holy crap," Johnny's eyes widen and it's a surprise for him to hear. He bites his lip and raises his brows. "How'd I miss that?"

"Life is pretty fast, dude," you grin.

"And you? Are you married?" Johnny tilts his head. "Couple of kids?"

Your face heats up slightly. Kids and marriage were the last thing on your mind right now, and you definitely had no partner. "Nope. Definitely single right now, and zero kids."

"I bet guys would be lining up for miles to have you," he answers. You swallow the saliva collecting in your mouth and look at Johnny for a moment. Perhaps his way was just complimenting everything and everyone, and he meant nothing by his words. That's the most likely case. 

“Nope,” you chuckle. “I don’t see a line anywhere.”

"Good, because I'm gonna ask for your number," his gaze is stern and full of resolve, a mischievous smirk playing upon his lips.

"Huh?" you ask him, feeling a slight lump form in your throat.

"I'd really like to go get a cup of coffee sometime, if you're up for it," his voice is earnest, and he grins widely before speaking again. "Maybe get with the guys some night for drinks? It's not everyday you come back and bump into the old crew."

Ahhhh, he wants to catch up with the old gang. Of course he wants to catch up with everyone and relive the college days or something. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together.

"Yeah sure," you mumble and dig your phone out. Johnny passes you his and you both add your contact information. "That would actually be a lot of fun."

"Let me know a couple dates that work for you," Johnny says in his silky smooth voice. "Or, let me know what days you're free. If it's during the work week, we can even get dinner after we finish up late at night."

"O...kay, I'll let you know,” you said.

"Sweet. Well it was nice to catch up," Johnny beams and starts walking in the other direction. He suddenly stops, spins, and turns back around. "Don't be a stranger, yeah? Give me a call whenever!"

"Yeah..." you nodded.

Johnny gives you an eager nod before taking his leave. As you watch his sculpted back muscles through the fabric of his loose shirt, Misun runs right over to you.

"Aghhh," she screeches excitedly, almost kicking her leg in an attempt to demonstrate how excited she was. "He totally hit on you!"

"Did he, though?" you tilt your head and smile slightly, grabbing your gym bag, before heading to the bathroom. "We kind of used to hang out with the same circle of people and—"

"Wait—so you already knew him? He's not just a guy you met today?" Misun follows you out, nearly stepping on your shoes because she's following your every movement like a hawk. She stares you down as if she were trying to dissect your body right there in the locker room, like a science experiment gone horribly, horribly right.

"We've sort of been casually acquainted since my college days," you explain as you pull your leggings off. "He's one of your husband's friends. Not someone I'd say he’s super close with, though. Just casual acquaintances."

"You guys fucked, didn't you?" Misun presses, her eyes bulging out of her eye sockets.

"Hey hey hey," you put a finger over your lips and lower your voice, checking the surrounding area for other people in the vicinity. You confirm the coast is clear before continuing, but you continue to whisper, nonetheless. "Keep it down will you?"

Misun smacks her lips together as a cheeky smirk spreads across her face. "Damn."

You begin changing out of your gym clothes before speaking again. "To be completely honest with you, Misun... Johnny was probably the most attractive guy I was ever with. By far. In fact, he's probably the most attractive guy I'll ever be with..." you say a bit melancholy, trailing off as your mind drifts back to those wild college nights.

"Then why the hell haven't you hit that in like a decade then, hon? I mean damn," Misun places her hand over her heart and you can practically see the gears spinning in her brain. "He's hot. You're hot. It's a win-win."

"Things are just...complicated," you answer vaguely, but you know exactly what your friend's picking up on.

"Darling," Misun wraps an arm around your shoulder. "Life is complicated. Relationships are complicated. But sex is the easiest thing ever to understand. I promise."

You simply wave her comment off and close up the door to your locker. Maybe she has a point, but you honestly don't know how you should feel. Things were so much simpler back when you and Johnny first hooked up. Back then, no feelings were involved, and everything was clear and defined. Now? Who the fuck knows.

All you could think about at that moment was Johnny. Johnny's body, Johnny's grin, Johnny's laughter, and everything in-between. There's an awkward tightening sensation in your core, and you shake your head. This isn't something that would normally bother you. Sure, you found him hot back in college, but the lust was purely physical. Something felt...different this time.

And, something about Johnny has changed, and you know it. Maybe it was just that time itself had changed, maybe he'd matured since your early twenties. Maybe the dynamic between you and Johnny would be entirely different now.

"Johnny's back in town," Taeyong tells you and Doyoung over lunch one day as he sips his americano.

You swallow your bite and nod. "Yeah, I know. I ran into him at the gym."

"What?" His eyes grow wider than saucers as he puts down his coffee cup. "No way!"

"Yeah, Misun was there," Doyoung laughs and gives you a cheeky look. "My lovely wife saw Johnny and Y/N make googly eyes at each other before exchanging contact info."

"Oh?" Taeyong raises his eyebrows and perks up in interest. "What happened next?"

You shove another piece of chicken into your mouth and sigh. "We exchanged numbers."

"AND?" both men yell impatiently.

"We. Exchanged. Numbers," you make a large circle with your hands in an exasperated fashion and then stare at both of them. "He wants to catch up with everyone, that's all. Go get a drink, reminisce about our younger days."

"Damn," Taeyong swears and laughs. "That's disappointing."

"You two would have such beautiful babies," Doyoung mutters.

"Who's gonna have babies?" Jaehyun cuts in, carrying a tray of drinks.

"Our darling Y/N and Suh," Taeyong explains, putting the last bite of food in his mouth. "Wanna go get drinks with Johnny and our lovely Y/N sometime this week?"

"Johnny's back in town?" Jaehyun seems intrigued.

"He’s here to stay," Doyoung looks at Jaehyun with raised eyebrows. “Y/N and Johnny exchanged numbers.”

"Oh, really?" Jaehyun looks mildly interested and smirks as he places your drink down in front of you. "You're hot. Johnny's hot. Good call. Hook it up."

"I literally think you guys are reading into this waaaay too much," you sigh and shake your head. "It was not even close to how you're putting it. No chemistry involved."

"Johnny Suh wouldn't have gotten your number if he was the sort of man to 'just catch up' with old college friends," Taeyong argues, making an air quote gesture.

"FINE," you roll your eyes. "Well, he asked me for coffee. BUT," you interject quickly and put a finger up when they're all ready to burst. "That doesn't necessarily mean he's asking me out on a date! Coffee doesn't necessarily mean romance."

"Uh, it totally does!" Taeyong cries, Jaehyun snickering along with him. "How do you think Misun and Doyoung got married? They brewed their love."

Doyoung slaps a hand over his face and rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath.

"Who are you and what have you done with the Lee Taeyong I once knew, God-knows-when, from God-knows-where," you grimace at his horrible choice in word play.

"Say it, Y/N. You know I'm a hundred percent right, and you can't deny it," Taeyong goes on. "How do you feel about Suh?"

"It's been ten years, Taeyong! What should I even say? Do I even have the same feelings for him as I had back in college?" You roll your eyes.

"Maybe? Maybe not. Only you know. But... Do you?" Doyoung folds his arms and glares at you.

You throw your head back, running your hands across the side of your hair. You make a dramatic gesture of screaming silently while the boys sit back and wait, leaning forward as they anticipate your answer. You stop making a ruckus and shoot them a defeated, resigned look, your shoulders slumping, your mouth drooping, and a little twinkle sparkles in your eyes.

You purse your lips together. "Possibly. Maybe. A bit."

"I mean," Jaehyun started, "you guys did fuck for a good year in college—"

"How did you know that!?" You feel the embarrassment color your cheeks.

Jaehyun bursts out laughing. "Who didn't know? You guys were fuckin' around a LOT."

You sink lower in your chair, sinking your teeth into the flesh of your lip. Of course they'd have known.

"So what's the problem then?" Taeyong presses for the details. "You're single, right?"

"Yeah but..." you sigh. "What if he's not? Or what if he's with someone right now?"

"He's single," Taeyong points at you with a decisive air, nodding with pride. "I asked."

"Why am I not surprised, you little gossiping bastard," you fold your hands across your chest. "Of course you asked."

"Anyway," Taeyong shakes his head. "Think of it this way. Say you get your little date on. If nothing comes out of it, then no biggie! Nothing ventured, nothing gained. But, if anything happens… if," he puts a hand to his heart, "if a wonderful spark ignites between you and Johnny… then wouldn't it have been worth trying?"

He does make an excellent point.

Johnny's wearing a button down silk shirt, open to the fourth button so his sharp clavicle and smooth, flawless, chest were peeking out. His leather pants were molded around him; the expensive belt showing off just how defined his waist was. He sits back in his chair and gives a hearty laugh as Haechan talks animatedly, gesturing and using both of his hands for emphasis as he recounts a story about Jaehyun pranking Taeyong.

You're sitting next to him, his arm draped casually against the top of the chair you're sitting on, a smug, playful smirk dancing across his lips, and his eyes flashing and sparkling under the light of the low lit room. You try not to stare at how well dressed he is, how nice the scent of his cologne is and how he looks like an absolute snack from this proximity. It’s difficult not to notice just how nice looking this man is. It's been more than ten years since you've been near one another, after all. And the past decade has been exceedingly good to him, that much was evident.

It was Johnny's birthday celebration; the crew wanted to go out and give him the greatest time, since he was back in Seoul after so long, and Johnny was the type to really enjoy himself when surrounded by good company. Dressed in a long, skin-tight black dress that dipped low in the back, showing the length of your spine and cut to expose one leg up to the upper thigh, the crew went hard for this bar crawl night and they went all out for Johnny. 

When Yuta suggested this nightclub and sent everyone the address, the boys responded with immediate acceptance, while your immediate reaction was pure disbelief. You hate nightclubs; you were never interested in them. This was never your scene back in college, let alone right now. Sure, you loved a nice drink after work, and you've been dragged to enough bars with your friends, but you were not remotely interested in this clubbing scene.

There are too many sweaty people, a plethora of obnoxious dudes trying to pick up girls, and so much wasted energy. Why not just go to a bar where you can have a more relaxed vibe and a way better selection of drinks? That would be a better fit for you, really. You can have a drink, lounge, and enjoy music that is quiet enough to allow you to hear your friends’ voices.

But nope, here you are. Surrounded by a sea of people who are half-naked, grinding or shouting about the lack of people grinding against them. You felt old in the sea of young bodies in here, so out of place in a world filled with loud music and zero room to talk to anybody, given the loud and throbbing base filling the entirety of the room.

"Hey Y/N," Johnny leans in and whispers right into your ear, his breath warm and tickling.

"Hmm," you try to keep it casual, even though his sudden movements have put you into an unannounced trance.

"Wanna get out of here?" He's closer to you now, his soft lips barely even brushing against the outer shell of your earlobe.

"Excuse me?" your face heats up a few degrees, wondering if what you're thinking is what he means, or what you're hoping for.

"We're going to hit another place," Jaehyun says from your other side.

"The vibe here is awful," Johnny groans. "Let's go somewhere more chill where we can all just talk."

"I knew this club thing was a bad idea. I should've fought Nakamoto on his decision," you get out of your seat and smile in response. "Plus it's better for Doyoung. We don't need any single birds flirting with him. Misun's liable to punch somebody in the face if anyone gets close."

Everyone chuckles as you all head out. Yuta merely shrugged when you told him about changing locations and led the crew out into the evening air, looking for a new bar to go to. The whole lot of you move at the pace of Jaehyun and Johnny, whose strides are equally long, as they attempt to seek a spot of their liking. After passing a few establishments, you find yourself nearing a lounge with a slightly different ambiance, one that doesn't reek of desperation and wasted energy. It was relatively quiet when you got close, and the interior looked cozy. You instantly liked the change in scenery and noticed how your tension melted away.

Everyone shuffled inside, pushing tables together.

"C'mon babe, you're sitting over here," Misun gently coaxed you into the seat next to Johnny, which just makes you wonder what she's scheming now, what new ridiculousness has filled her mind. "This place has a way better atmosphere, right?"

You had to admit, this was a much better choice than the night club that Yuta brought everyone to earlier. This was cozy and just loud enough for everyone to be heard without needing to yell their lungs out.

"Y'know..." Jungwoo starts, getting your attention as you lean forward across the table. "I don't think Yuta was really trying."

Everyone, except Yuta, started guffawing in unison, and Doyoung did his best not to fall off of his stool.

"To be fair," Yuta stands in the corner, attempting to defend his character, a pout forming upon his lips. "I didn't have time to go scout a location out! Work's been busy! Cut me some slack."

"First rounds on you then," Mark cracks up, slapping Yuta hard on the back.

"Feeling better already, babe?" Doyoung gave his wife a quick peck before speaking and patted the seat to his left.

Misun nodded eagerly and took the offered seat, watching you and Johnny with intense interest, a far too satisfied grin playing on her lips.

“This place is nice,” Misun started. “It’s intimate and cozy. And the sound levels here are great. Perfect place for a little celebration.”

You give Misun a questioning glance but you decide to shrug and leave it at that for now. Besides, this wouldn't hurt anyone.

"First things first!" Yuta announced after everyone got comfortable, raising a glass high. Everyone paused and gave Yuta their undivided attention. "A toast! To Johnny, Happy Birthday again!"

You grab ahold of your drink and raise the glass high into the air to follow the boys.

"Cheers!" everyone shouts and the sound echoes throughout the space as everyone takes a sip of their drinks.

"Thanks, man, really," Johnny grins widely, patting Yuta's shoulder and shaking his friend's hand. He faces you and locks your gaze. "Now that we're not deafened by shitty club music, I just wanted to say how great it was to see you all again. I really did miss this."

Everyone's beaming at him with their hearts on their sleeves. Even you.

"I never stopped missing you guys. Truly," he raised his glass and everyone mimicked his gesture. He holds his cup out to toast, the smile on his face wide. "Now let's take it easy and catch up."

You spend hours laughing, reminiscing, and recounting old stories. Misun's stomach hurts so badly she can't help but lay down on Doyoung's lap, rubbing at her stomach, with tears coming out of her eyes as she tells Haechan and Jungwoo not to make her laugh anymore.

Johnny's presence is intoxicating and comforting; his hand is placed across the back of your chair throughout most of the night, only removing it to grab drinks or help pass things across the table.

He's exactly as you remembered from college: warm and charming. So goddamn easy on the eyes. His timbre was so delicious, you wished that he'd whisper sweet nothings to you, hold you in his embrace and tell you you were the most beautiful woman in the entire world. And maybe his kisses were exactly as sweet, perhaps even sweeter, as they once were back in the good ol' days.

You notice that Misun was talking to one of the employees, whispering, glancing at you and Johnny every now and then, but you honestly can't bring yourself to care. Not tonight at least. Not when Johnny's near you, especially, because no man has ever looked at you the way Johnny Suh does tonight. You can feel those brown pools devouring every inch of you as you converse with the rest of the crew, hanging off of everyone's every word.

Johnny's intense gaze has always made you feel self-conscious, yet exhilarated. He looks at you like you're the most incredible thing he's ever seen, and it's captivating. Reconnecting after a decade, you realize these feelings are rushing back. The Johnny from college is different from the man he is now; he's matured in every sense of the word.

"You don't expect me to really believe that you met Johnny at the gym, right?" Mark asks, a giant grin plastered on his face as he wondered how you ran into Johnny after all this time.

"I didn't plan anything at all! I was just working out! I swear!" You raise your hands, palms facing up in innocence, and chuckle as you see the curious and expectant looks on their faces. "I can't control what random encounters my life brings, you guys."

"It's true. I saw her running on the treadmill and came over. Completely unplanned and innocent," Johnny's cool demeanor is calm, but he still has his typical Cheshire cat-like smile plastered onto his face. "Are we done being grilled here? Or are you all gonna keep up with this interrogation?"

Everyone laughs and turns their attention to their new round of drinks that just arrived. The lounge started to get rowdy and loud, the quiet, ambient area turned into a hotspot for those who wanted some post-work release. There were throngs of office people, students and party goers filing in. It was much different from the peaceful, mellow scene just minutes ago.

Misun's grinning like a fool when you stand up. "And where are you off to?"

"Bathroom. Give me a sec," you answer.

She gives you an enthusiastic thumbs-up and watches you walk across the length of the table. Misun and Doyoung slide a keycard in Johnny's direction, nudging their heads toward your receding back.

"What's this?" Johnny frowns slightly, grabbing it in his hand as the couple tries their hardest not to stare.

"Our present to you," Misun answers smoothly, Johnny raising his eyebrows. "We all know that you and Y/N used to have a... thing. So, we figured, you deserved to celebrate in private, without any company."

Johnny looks around at the group. "You guys all know-"

"That you and Y/N hooked up for a full year?" Mark cackles. "Well, duh. We all know. Not really sure how you two think you could possibly be lowkey or discreet about it."

"How could we miss the looks the two of you have been giving each other or the times you both snuck off campus on some weekends?" Jungwoo chimes in.

"And you thought we didn't know?" Yuta rolls his eyes and laughs.

"The worst kept secret of your life, if you ask me," Taeyong added with a laugh before slapping his back. "Reconnect, man. Who knows? Maybe sparks could reignite."

"That would be fucking wild," Haechan laughs as a fresh set of drinks is laid upon the table and clinks his glass with Mark's.

"Johnny!" Yuta smacks Johnny's shoulder. "Don't let another decade slip by wondering what could have been."

"Go to the private room and make out or something," Taeyong wiggled his eyebrows. "And whatever happens afterwards is totally none of our business."

Johnny stares at the card again, eyeing the shiny material before shooting a confused gaze back at Doyoung and Misun. "I... really don't know what to say. This is unexpected, honestly."

Doyoung smiles. "If anyone deserves something this nice, it's you, Johnny. Go get her, man."

After returning from the ladies room and taking a brief moment to fix your lipstick in the mirror, you check the time and see the numbers, 9:45pm. You run your hands over the black dress and fix your hair, spraying a bit of perfume before exiting the bathroom and re-entering the busy lounge.

Your eyes wander about the space and see everyone else standing up and conversing as you make your way back. The lounge has become noisier, packed with several bodies, more than you anticipated it to have, but it wasn't as loud or stifling as the last place. You shuffle and slide around to navigate through the masses, spotting the crew around the table. Johnny stood out like a sore thumb with his tall, sculpted figure, and even if he didn't, Misun caught your gaze, making a point to shove the guys to the side and call you over.

You let out a small laugh as you joined your friends.

"Where were you? You took so long," Misun gasped, lurching a bit forward, dramatically pulling you down to sit into your original spot.

"Took forever to line up in the bathroom," you roll your eyes and chuckle at her as the guys slide a drink in your direction.

Misun smirks, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "Are you wearing sexy panties or boy shorts tonight?"

"Oh, no," you pull away and glower, giving a slight laugh. "Don't even start."

"You're not gonna give Suh a show tonight?" she presses, pouting.

You smirk and try not to burst into laughter. You decide it best to not tell her that you didn't think it was gonna happen in the first place, and that her efforts will be fruitless anyway. You smirk, take a deep breath and say, "You're crazy. Why would I do that?"

"You're wearing perfume, you've fixed yourself up..." Misun answered.

"Misun, look around," you gesture around the venue. "There's plenty of girls out tonight. This place is a real hottie central," you say, watching some girls clad in skintight dresses and very high heels saunter by in an attempt to not sound offended by her insinuation. "I was literally in the bathroom. Why wouldn't I wear perfume or freshen up?"

Misun playfully frowns, but continues to gape at you as Doyoung checks something on his phone and reaches out to grab his glass, gulping his cocktail.  "I wanna dance," Misun gets up and tugs Doyoung off of the chair. "C'mon hon, let's go have some fun."

"Behave," Doyoung kisses his wife on her nose before following her onto the small dance floor. Everyone else seemed to scatter, leaving you and Johnny to be the last ones remaining at the table.

"And then there were two," he remarks, bringing his beer to his lips to take a swig, a smirk curling upwards.

"Looks like it," you reply, taking your own cup.

"I'm not complaining, not in the slightest," Johnny says, shifting in his seat to get more comfortable. His thigh now lightly brushes against your leg. "I missed this. Just spending time with friends."

"No girlfriends or lovers back home, Johnny boy?" You ask, glancing at the man, who smiled.

"Nah, it hasn't really worked out in that department... at all. Kinda just me right now," his laugh was music to your ears. You try not to focus on his large frame beside you, or his muscular thigh pressed up against you, or the way his cologne smells so good up-close.

"Really now?" you laugh. "Handsome like that, body like that. Surely the girls must be all over you back in Chicago. So you never had a chance?"

"They're out there," Johnny admits. "I guess I'm picky. Plus," he gives you an intense look, tilting his head forward, as his leg moves and presses against yours in a way that wasn't accidental. His hands slide to his lap. "I haven't had anyone I liked for a while now."

"For some reason, I just don't believe that..." you laugh, finding it hard to maintain eye contact now. 

"What about you? I find it hard to believe that no guy has snatched you up." He leans in further, turning to face your direction now. "What's the story behind your single ass?"

"I never found that spark, I guess. Plus work's been hectic," you respond, sucking your lower lip in.

"Life works in mysterious ways, huh?" His smile is endearing and gentle. "So many people cross our path every day and you never know who it could be, really." He pauses, and puts a hand on yours, which had been resting against the side of the table. His fingertips send jolts through your body.

Johnny's touch was electric. His fingers, his entire hand envelopes yours, leaving you at his complete mercy.

"Maybe you'll end up meeting someone again? The perfect match?" he added, his hand not moving or leaving yours.

"That would be nice," you said, and took a large swig of your drink. You give him a friendly smile and laugh to yourself, relaxing as the pounding music and the vibrations start to drown out everything else in the lounge. You notice a few younger women eyeing your handsome companion with interest, shooting furtive glances and hopeful smiles his way. Their body language is easy for you to pick up on; you're no novice at this game.

Johnny catches sight of the girls who are looking over at him and does absolutely nothing about it. In fact, his hand snakes across your lower back and his fingers are pressing into your back with a possessive grip, not even bothering to acknowledge any of the women gawking his way. Your breath hitches at the feeling of his strong, firm hands massaging your lower spine.

"Oh?" You turn your gaze away from the girls and stare at him. "They seem very interested."

"They got nothing on you," he replies smoothly, and a dangerous glint appears in his eye, and then he's slowly and methodically raking his gaze over every part of your exposed skin. "Absolutely nothing."

You felt heat coiling within your gut as he did this.

"Even after a decade?" You blink rapidly, cheeks burning. You down the rest of your drink, hoping that the booze would quell the emotions rushing through your body.

Johnny leaned closer and locked your gaze. His scent, a delicious mix of his own natural musk and expensive cologne, invades your nostrils and a shudder rolls up and down your spine. The intensity of his chocolate brown eyes left you a bit speechless and frozen in place.

"A decade is such a long time," he murmured, reaching his free hand over and gently resting his palm against your cheek. Johnny's expression, and voice, turned a bit tender. "But to me, you're the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, and nothing has changed that. Maybe I'm biased," he chuckles and you couldn't help but reciprocate his sweet laugh, leaning in and enjoying his closeness. "But there's no woman that comes anywhere close to you. You've held my attention since day one."

"What am I supposed to do with you, Suh?" you cock an eyebrow his way.

"Anything you want," Johnny takes his free hand and moves it to brush his thumb lightly along your cheekbone.

"What if I wanted to...continue this..." your throat goes dry and you feel a lump in your throat as you swallow your fear. "Where would we even begin?"

"Right here," his words are just as smooth and confident. "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure, what is it?" you ask, blinking and waiting in anticipation.

"I fucking miss this. Spending time together, talking, laughing. I've missed you," his thumb gently rubs circles along your cheekbone, making you shudder under his touch. He begins to shift again, allowing his free hand to rub up and down your arm in slow strokes.

His touches weren't necessarily foreign, but it's been a damn decade of no Johnny contact. It felt like years of pent up electricity had just exploded in your heart and your belly, and all you could do was stare at him in response, hypnotized by him. 

"I fucking miss you too," you croak, and lean into him for a kiss. 

His lips meet yours, slowly and softly, before they move and become more hungry and fierce, just as they used to be back in college. You feel his tongue slipping past the seal of your lips and teeth, deepening the kiss, making you moan in pleasure as he savours the sweet taste of your mouth. Your body wants him more, desperately needs him after all these years. You don't pull away from him because it feels too damn good, so you reach both arms over his broad shoulders as if he was going to leave.

"Fuck," he groans in frustration, pulling away abruptly and abruptly breaks off the kiss, gasping for breath, forehead leaning on top of yours. "I miss kissing you."

You stay in place, enjoying how it feels to be in his arms, surrounded by his presence. You watch him fiddle with the empty glass, his hands busy, his focus entirely on the beverage in front of him. There are a few moments of silence, allowing the music of the bar to fill your ears. The light sounds of chatter and music of the bar carry their own rhythm as they blend into an enjoyable soundtrack to the night.

"So…" you begin again, searching his gaze, searching for an indication. A sign of where to take this.

"Why did we stop?" he muses, shifting again and crossing one leg over the other, still rubbing circles on your lower back with his fingertips. "We could have worked it out back then."

"You didn't do relationships, remember? Not your type," you try to remind him gently, reaching for another sip. 

"Did I say that?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Among other things. Lots of other things," you admit and shift in your chair so you could better angle yourself to face him.

"But did you know you were the only girl that I hooked up with for an entire year?" Johnny turns, facing you and presses his hand lightly to your thigh. "Don't get me wrong," he's quick to clarify. "I dated loads. But...You. It was just you, that whole year."

"What are you saying, Johnny?" you blinked.

"I'm saying..." His deep chocolate brown eyes search yours as his words form slowly. "That maybe... Just maybe... You were more than just a fuck to me."

"Pause. Rewind, go back. Rewind ten steps. Because I'm quite sure I heard you wrong," you joke.

"Come on, babe. Seriously. It was only you," Johnny reiterates and he brings his thumb back up to your cheek, stroking your cheek again, softer, gentler and slower, giving you more time to take it all in. His hand holds your jaw gently as he presses his lips back to yours, sweet, sensual and slowly building to a burning, aching desire. "After that year, no other girl could live up to what you gave me. I didn't bother anymore after you. I... It just wasn't the same."

"Oh, come off it, Johnny," you snorted and rolled your eyes, brushing off his comment.

"It's the truth, baby," he grabs your chin gently, and his brown eyes seem so sincere. "And I hate that it's taken me ten years to realize this," Johnny breathes. "But fuck me, if that's not the truth."

His lips connect to yours again,his tongue finding its way inside and licking the sides of your mouth, swirling and caressing until all you can taste is his beer and his want for you, while his fingers travel upwards and weave their way through your hair. His breath catches and he presses his forehead to yours again. Your heart races at his declaration, beating madly in your ears, like a drumbeat pounding against your chest.

You bite down on his lower lip and he moans deeply in the back of his throat, sucking it between his own teeth. You sigh contentedly as he kisses the sensitive spot under your chin, letting you nibble at his neck and ear, tracing his features with your fingers as though he would vanish and disappear like a shadow.

The air surrounding the two of you has heated up, and so has the tension that hangs between your bodies. His hands roam freely underneath your clothing, running fingers and palms up and down your body as if he has every right to. 

"Want to get out of here, get somewhere...more private?" he mumbles, voice low and hoarse, vibrations transferring through the heat of the embrace to your lips, pressed against his collarbone. You feel light-headed and hazy as the effects of the alcohol and the hot atmosphere are really starting to sink in.

"God yes," you breathe, barely even pausing. The throb between your legs hasn't let up; in fact, it's almost gotten worse now. And as much as you enjoy the flirtatious banter and light teasing, all you can think about is just how badly you want to be touched right now.

He grabs your hand and leads you up to a private room with tinted windows that spanned from the ceiling to the floor, a beautiful view of the city to be taken in. You follow him, buzzed enough to be ready to go wherever and do whatever, confident and unafraid.

"When did you manage to reserve this?" you asked him as he closes and locks the door and turns to you, eyes glinting.

"Apparently Misun planned this. She talked to the owner, told them it was my birthday, and this private room was ready and set up for us," Johnny gently comes up behind you and slides his strong arms around your middle, kissing the back of your neck before resting his chin on your shoulder. "We can go elsewhere if you want. I just want to spend some alone time with you. No distractions and no prying eyes."

You turn to face him, and his beautiful chocolate eyes have grown darker. His face has taken a stern,serious expression. It sends goosebumps down the back of your arms, butterflies straight to the pit of your stomach, and a sharp ache through the depths of your belly. 

"Let's stay here. This is good. It's private," you whisper. You turn away from him to face the view of the skyline, his embrace feeling warm and secure.

He holds you like this for several silent seconds, kissing the shell of your ear gently while you look out. Neither one of you dares to move; you both are at peace and enjoy the feeling and presence of one another, basking in it, letting yourselves indulge in it.

"I have to admit something," you whisper quietly as he holds you close.

"Hm?" he hums, playing with your hands and swaying your hips, embracing his body even closer to yours.

"Back then, you said no attachments and no feelings," you sigh, not daring to look him in the eye as you think back to when you last saw him in college. "The thing is, that whole year that we were hooking up... that whole year, Johnny, I was crazy in love with you."

You hear him inhale and squeeze your body tight, fingers gently digging into the fabric of your dress. You stay still and feel the warm puffs of air blow across the back of your neck as Johnny processes. After a moment, you feel him press a long, gentle kiss on the back of your neck, hands roaming across your skin, leaving tingling trails of goosebumps in their wake.

"We can take this however you want. If you're just looking for something casual, I'm okay with that," he whispers with a hint of a chuckle. He kisses you softly and continues, "But if you're open to something more... if you'd give me another chance..."

You turn slowly in his arms, meeting his warm, caramel-colored gaze. The city lights twinkle behind him, highlighting his chiseled features. He cups your face gently in his large hands, his eyelids lowering at the closeness. "I'll always go at your pace," his voice drops low.

Your hands land on either side of his face and you draw him close, feeling his body melt against yours. "Let's pick up from where we left off, 1o years ago. But this time," you pause and give him an affirmative smile before leaning into his awaiting lips. "I want all of it, Johnny. The dates, the sex, the arguing, the compromising and the intense makeup sex, waking up next to you and feeling like home. All of it."

"Fuck, me too. I want it all, all of you," he grins as his words dripped from his mouth and onto your lips, holding your body tightly to his.

"Oh my god, stop talking and kiss me already," you whisper into his lips.

The moon shines, hanging above the busy streets and city buildings below, lighting up the sky with an ethereal glow. The low rumbling of cars moving down the city streets and people mingling and dancing the night away is distant; the two of you are lost to your own world, content to explore each other with your hands and lips.

Your breathing turns ragged, hitching every time his lips attach to a particularly sensitive spot. He backs you up, slowly, with his arms wrapped around your waist, until the backs of your thighs meet the wall and his broad torso, pinned tightly to yours.

"When's the last time I told you, you're gorgeous as hell?" He says in your ear, nibbling his way down the side of your neck.

"ten years ago? God, stop talking. We've wasted so much time already," you breathed, tangling your fingers into his hair, earning a pleasured groan from the man.

You feel his hot tongue laving over the smooth flesh and relishing how your back arches, your breathing getting heavier. Your pulse raced when he found a certain spot beneath your ear, near your collarbone, that made you let out a weak little cry when he sucked and kissed it. "Feels good?" he mumbles into your skin.

"Very," you hum, placing your hands on the solid chest and shoulder muscles he's grown since college. His once lithe and lanky frame, replaced with solid muscle and definition, a jawline that could cut diamonds, and eyes dark and filled with desire. "Age has really been good to you."

Johnny laughs, and it reverberates against your body, shaking the two of you with its deep vibrations. "Says you. You grew up a lot."

He trails one hand up to the fabric covering your breast and kneads one, plucking at your nipple until you gasp.

"They've definitely gotten a little fuller," Johnny rumbles into your ear, "If I recall correctly." His tongue darts out and traces a path up from your collarbone, hot and wet, swirling against the vein in your neck.

All you can do is let out a whimper in affirmation and dig your nails deeper into his back. Your body is trembling beneath his touch, the delicious feeling of his mouth latched onto that area of your neck, sucking and nibbling the soft skin until he's had his fill. Your head rolls back and the noises escaping your throat become desperate; you claw at his shoulder blades and groan again and again.

"I guess that hasn't changed," he teases with a smirk, voice rumbling across your skin in waves.

"Oh fuck," your entire body trembles, "You've always been able to get me to beg for you. Way too well."

He pulls away from the wet patch of flesh between your neck and shoulder with a small pop and leans his head against yours, trying to slow his breathing.

"Can we continue this someplace with less...window?" Johnny mumbles after a long period of comfortable silence. His deep chocolate brown gaze is languid as his hands caress up and down the side of your body, savoring every curve and edge. "Not that I wouldn't totally have sex in this room with you... But a bed would definitely be more ideal for us, no?"

"Because we're old?" You chuckle. "Sounds about right. We should take our old asses somewhere more comfortable and quiet."

"Who are you calling old?" he murmurs, laughing into your lips. "We're just mature," he insists as his tongue runs along the crease of your lips, gaining entrance.

"Old," you retort back with a gasp and then laugh, feeling his teeth clamp onto your tongue lightly. His laughter is low, rumbling deep from within his chest, resonating off your own and mixing.

"Will you spend the night with me? Back at mine? I mean it. All of it," Johnny clarifies. "Mess around? Curl in bed. Wake up and cuddle? I've missed cuddling you," his face becomes serious, turning from teasing and flirty to longing and sincere, with a gentle tenderness showing across his eyes and face. He brings his hand up to cup the side of your face, staring into your eyes, searching, willing for you to agree.

"I don't know if I can wait, I kind of just want to jump you right now," you respond back.

"Yeah?" Johnny huffs out a laugh, looking around the private room. "Right now?"

"I mean, there's a couch right here," you joke and tilt your head to the cushy leather sofa sitting at the side. "Can I at least suck you off here, and then we go back to yours to continue the night?" you ask softly, slowly pushing him backward towards the seating. "Then maybe," your hands land on his belt buckle, gently slipping your thumbs between the leather strap, pulling it away from his body and giving you the chance to remove the metal piece. "Maybe later we can take our time? Go slow or fast, soft or hard...in your bed..."

"Fuck. Sure, sure. Anything," Johnny responds breathily, not putting up any resistance as he is guided back onto the leather seating, scooting backwards until his back is resting against the cushion. "Whatever you want."

Your eyes drop from his, and your eyelashes flutter softly, focusing on the belt unclasping, buttons being opened and the zipper being slowly lowered.

"Jesus christ," Johnny's voice is hushed. "How do you still fucking do this to me? Even ten years later?"

Your heart melts at his statement, and you pull yourself closer and wrap your fingers around his waistband, peeling the material down his hips and freeing his thick member, causing Johnny to audibly groan when his erection sprang out, now pressed tightly against his stomach.

The smell of his intoxicating musk fills your nostrils, and your head immediately becomes woozy. Your heart picks up, almost skipping a beat, and the rush of blood starts to make you dizzy. You've almost forgotten the effect his cock and his arousal had on you. The thick vein underneath and how it'd pulse against your hand. The swollen, red tip and the liquid pearl leaking out.

"Damn, I missed this cock. So fucking much," you whispered before lowering your head to give the leaking tip an experimental kitten-lick.

"Fuck," his legs twitch from the action, and he bites back a curse. Then he growls, "Go ahead, put those pretty lips around me like the good girl I remember."

Without another word, you flatten your tongue at the base of his member and slowly move up towards the tip. He stiffens further and his breathing picks up and his pupils dilate, enraptured with watching you.

With half lidded eyes, you lock gazes with him, never once looking away as you begin to lower your mouth onto him. He twitches slightly as you swirl your tongue around him, bobbing up and down at a steadily increasing pace. A bit salty, but also fresh and earthy, your taste buds get an alluring hit, just a small sample of what he would taste like when you have him completely. Your nails gently dig into his outer thighs and he sucks in a breath, trying and failing not to buck up into your hot, slick heat.

"Feel better than you remembered?" You tease.

"Mmm, the same and different," he replies. "A lot…dirtier than you were back then."

"Yeah?" Your hand grips the shaft and begins pumping up and down the velvety hot length, thumb running up and down his length, pressing your fingers into the areas you know drive Johnny crazy.

"Baby," he hisses in a low, throaty grunt, eyes sliding shut, languidly rolling his hips and driving further up into your hand. He enjoys the smooth, tight pressure, and the way your grip firms when his cock grows to its fullest, leaking thick beads of pre cum. You swallow and suck, hollowing your cheeks as you swirl your tongue in an obscene motion along the leaking head. "Baby, don't stop. God, that feels good. Just like that."

With a sly, glinting look, you press open-mouthed kisses and long licks to the sides of his cock and balls. With your free hand you slowly reach out to rub over the spot behind his testicles, massaging and stroking, and you drag him back into the present with the touch. Johnny makes an involuntary jerk and then quickly relaxes back against the seat. Your stomach flutters with anticipation, unable to stop the wide smirk spreading across your face as you enjoy this, having his hot length stretching your lips wide and stuffed down your throat. His groans sound like music to your ears.

Johnny threads his hands into the locks of your hair as the only warning you would get before yanking your face against his groin and keeping you in place as his cock jerked inside the confines of your cheeks, sending a thick white ribbon of semen straight to the back of your throat. You feel his hot sticky cum coming up to coat the back of your throat, spurting it straight down. His hips rock in erratic jerks as his hand wraps itself firmly around the back of your neck, rubbing comforting little circles onto your skin.

"That's my girl," Johnny coo's sweetly. "Swallow it for daddy." He watches in arousal and satisfaction, enjoying the show, as you open your mouth and stick out your tongue. It’s covered with ropes of thick white cum, and there's some lingering inside. But you did a thorough job of swallowing his load down like you always did.

"Daddy?" you question with a playful eyebrow raised. "That's a new one."

"We're older now," he remarks and leans forward. Johnny wipes at the corner of your lips, cleaning the remnants off your face, as well as the trail of saliva and his arousal that are pooling at the edge of your lips. "It would have been weird for a twenty year old me to ask a twenty year old you to call me daddy. Ten years later, older Johnny can't help himself," Johnny admits with a goofy grin.

"Fair, though. We are thirty. Older and wiser," you shrug your shoulders as if agreeing. "It's kinda hot."

Johnny shoots you a pleased grin. "Good," is his only response before helping you tuck him back into his underwear and pants. His eyes wander back to your red-swollen lips and a low chuckle comes out. "Shit, you look so tempting," he admires, getting a hard-on all over again at the mere thought. "Do you want more, baby?"

"Yessir," you whine, feeling his lips drag wet and languid all across the sides of your exposed neck. "Let's go back to your place and do something about this," you whisper, grabbing the edge of his hand and pulling it gently to your wet core. "I feel empty without you, and you're the only thing that'll fix it. Think you're up for the task, Daddy?"

"Fuck baby, I think I just got even harder," Johnny growls, desire surging through him at your bold, straightforward statement.

It didn't take long for Johnny to close his apartment door with his foot and roughly shove you against the wooden material, hand slithering through the inside of your thigh and tugging up, urging your leg around his hip as his fingers bury themselves between your drenched folds.

"God you're soaked," he moans into your collarbone. He peppers you with kisses as he slips his fingers under your panties and against your dripping core. You groan and drop your head back. He shoves his tongue down your throat when his long index finger finds and begins to rub in small circles at the swollen bundle of nerves, drawing a raspy moan from your chest.

"Tell me what you want," he demands huskily into your mouth. "I'm not moving unless you say it."

"Johnny," you grind down against the finger, seeking out more friction and chasing after the feeling of being pleasured by his touch, a sensation you have missed for over a decade and had forgotten just how addictive it could be. You whine, desperately trying to keep your balance on one foot, still holding onto the fabric of his shirt in your hands, trying to find a way to let out your frustration. "Please!"

"Mm? I'm listening..." he hums with a smirk. His chocolate brown orbs have darkened and gleamed with hunger. Johnny presses his palm against your pelvic bone and applies more pressure. "Come on. You can do better than that. What do you want daddy to do?" he asks. "Use your words baby girl. It's not very nice to keep me waiting, now is it? Especially not after all these years and a special birthday celebration for me."

"Johnny..." his name is a moan falling past your lips.

"Yes, that's me. What do you want, sweet thing?" He coos. "Come on, tell Daddy. Tell me what you've been wanting for ten years," Johnny keeps his hand and the rest of his body still. The only thing moving, continuing its stimulating assault on your poor aching core, is that damnable, tortuous finger rubbing back and forth.

"Fuck me," you hiss in reply, grinding against his hand with abandon.

His breath catches in his throat and you watch him visibly react at the admission, eyes clouding over and narrowing on your figure pressed tightly against him, against the door. "Say it again," he repeats.

"Fuck me. Fill me up. Put your dick in me. Do whatever the hell you want. But do it already!" Your words spill from your lips frantically in desperation and he complies, immediately, lifting you up by your ass, feeling you instinctively wrapping your legs and arms around him, and depositing you onto the bed.

He undresses himself before collapsing on top of you, a broad smile adorning his flushed features as his strong hands brush away the hair from your face.

"If I remember right," he begins, mouth dangerously close to yours, sharing breaths. His forehead rests against yours, and his eyes flutter shut, bringing a hand down and slipping two fingers back under the fabric of your underwear, pressing his knuckles against your swollen bundle of nerves, alternating between pinching and stroking.

 "You're sensitive," his breath dances across your skin as his skilled digits work at building you back up. "Here especially," he states and kisses your parted lips, coaxing his tongue against yours in a tender, sensual way that does little to quell the throb in the lower region of your belly.

You gasp as his middle finger finally slips between your drenched lips, he swirled your arousal around your entrance before gliding upwards.

"And this," Johnny draws his hand back, staring intently into your blown-out eyes while his fingers disappear inside his mouth. A guttural sound that seems like a cross between a grunt and growl rolls from his throat, sucking his own fingers. "Tastes just as good as the last time. Ten years have done nothing to ruin your taste."

"Johnny..." you gasp.

"Yeah baby, I'm here," he wastes no time shimmying your dress down to your waist, nipping along the valley of your breasts. Your fingers grip at his hair and a giggle leaves your lips.

He lifts himself from the valley of your chest and sits up, face hovering above your own. One of his hands reaches out to cradle your jaw and gently hold your chin. The thumb of his other hand slips into your mouth, forcing your lips to part further. "Suck."

A burst of something feral awakens deep inside you, and your gaze becomes dark, needy and craving. You part your lips further and roll the soft pad of his thumb around and along your teeth, swirling your tongue, drawing circles and moving up and down across its width.

He inhales sharply as the same feral emotion, the need and want, passes through him. You look absolutely angelic with those hooded eyelids and the sinfully lustful look in your eyes, locked onto his. 

"Let me eat you out," Johnny finally breaks the spell, breathing labored as he loses the fight to maintain the upper hand. "And after that, I'm gonna bury myself deep inside of you and fill you up just like how you asked me to, again and again until morning. Until both of us can't fucking stand,  walk straight or form coherent sentences. Can I?" he rasps.

You simply nod your head enthusiastically. "Yes," you croak. "Please Johnny."

Johnny lets go of the finger in your mouth and drags down the soft swell of your breast, leaving red welts and hickies in his wake. With a satisfied grin, he presses a kiss to the mark and continues trailing the wet trail, dragging your dress all the way down and pulling your soaked panties off.

"Here baby," Johnny taps a finger against your inner thigh and lays flat on the bed, positioning his broad shoulders between your spread thighs. "Thighs, please," he says in a commanding tone and the hint of authority causes a gush to form between your thighs and coat them.

You bite your lip and make no objections and instead position yourself, your thighs pressed against his shoulders, his head positioned comfortably in between, and then his tongue is on you, and your brain short-circuits. You couldn't remember ever being as close or feeling this turned on, the feeling of being completely raw and vulnerable. He adds his two thick fingers alongside his tongue, probing and exploring, and in combination with his sucking mouth, they are expertly playing your pussy like a fucking symphony.

"Good?" he looks up and licks a broad, long stripe, pausing to wrap his lips around your bundle of nerves and then moves back down to tease around your hole. "Tell daddy. How does my girl feel?" He slowly pushes his fingers deep in you and presses and rotates against a particular spot inside, causing you to shiver involuntarily.

"Don't stop!" you demand hoarsely.

"Gonna cum for me?" he continues languidly and brings up his thumb, massaging it gently into your clit in tight, circular motions. "Is my baby going to squeeze her thighs around my head and choke her daddy? Let him suffocate in her cunt?"

"Oh fuck," his lewd words have your insides squirming. "So good, don't stop, just...ugh, keep, just.."

"Your pussy tastes so fucking good. Wish you could see this pretty thing drippin' in front of my face. And the way it's dripping wet," a loud slurp sounds. "So perfect. Would stay between these legs all day. Missed eating this pussy, feeling it pulse against my face as I got it to cum all over me. Goddamn, you feel so perfect," Johnny exhales out another strained grunt, losing his mind, eating you with an unchecked thirst, lapping, biting, and kissing his way around your insides like a starving man, drinking every last drop. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you firmly against him as your thighs try to squeeze him and shut his face between them.

One hand grabs a fistful of the back of his hair and you push him up closer between your legs. The fingers of your other hand reach up to steady yourself against the headboard and brace yourself against his savage ministrations.

"Right there, please!" your voice cracks at the strain, rolling your hips into his face. "Mm, yes. Y-you're so good with your fucking tongue," you let out a keening moan, gripping the back of his head tightly. You can feel him laughing against your skin, fingers still thrusting and scissoring inside you. Your hips thrust upwards with no rhyme or rhythm.

The tell-tale fluttering against his fingertips causes Johnny's tongue to speed up, focusing on your bundle of nerves, and rubbing it until a long, drawn-out whine falls past your lips. "Yes! Oh fuck. Johnny!"

"That's it, sweetheart," his encouraging growl rumbles straight through your sensitive body and has your stomach flip-flopping around the best orgasm you've had in years. "Good girl, ride the waves for daddy. Cum for me. Let me see you fall apart," a grunt escapes his lips, his muscles tense against you. "Wanna feel you like this everyday. Wanna be your fuck toy, wanna be the only one between these legs and in this pussy and your mind. Use me however you fucking want, baby."

Johnny rides you through the waves of orgasms, slowing his movements but not stopping. It takes a while before your lungs work again and before your heartbeat settles from being in your ears and into your chest. When you finally calm, Johnny lowers his mouth from your pulsing sex and offers an endearing chuckle at the state he left you in, still recovering and struggling for breath, sweating with limbs spread out and panting.

"Now tell daddy," his voice is low, taking the position above you, leaning all his weight onto his hands and looking straight at you. His eyes are so intense, you could drown in his dark, fiery chocolate irises. "How does she want to be fucked tonight?" Johnny leans in closer, the tip of his cock rubbing against you. "She can have me anyway she'd like," he languidly thrusts forward, once. Twice.

The wet noises your arousal is making and the light buzz coursing through you from the previous orgasm, combined with his relentless teasing and talking has your mouth working on its own. "I should be asking you since this is a special day for you. It's your birthday, what do you want, old man?"

"Just you. You’re the gift, and that's enough for me," he exhales a low, soft groan at the sensation.

"Sappy," you croak, mustering a soft huff in between breaths and smiling as his shaft glides into your wet, heated folds.

"Baby, if it means I could stay this way," his fingers tap at the spot right above your pelvis and press. "This close and deep in you," a groan escapes him at the thought of what the future could possibly hold. "I want to spend every damn birthday I have inside you." His breath tickles your nose, and his lips graze against your ear before planting a searing, hot kiss against the pulse point. "Think we could make that happen?"

"Depends," your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, holding him flush to your hips and you shudder against the sensation when you feel the length of him drag deliciously across your walls.

"On what?" He asks, fully seated within your slick warmth.

"Whether you could keep it up and give it to me like I like," you taunt back in a husky voice.

"Watch your words," Johnny growls in a warning tone, unable to hide his amusement. He picks up his pace, fucking you deeper into the sheets, as your fingernails dig into his back and shoulders.

"Come on Daddy," you purred against his ear, leaning over to graze his cartilage with your teeth, delighting in his short grunt. "Fuck your birthday present as hard as you can. This gift is not going anywhere," you waggled your eyebrows and couldn't resist, placing your thumb against the tip of his nose and swiping it. "That is, unless you're too old..."

His eyes narrowed. "Guess I'll just have to shut that smartass mouth of yours. Because, oh baby, it's gonna be a long night."

He thrust into you deeply, bottoming out.

"Mmph!" you moaned against his shoulder, struggling to breathe at the sudden overwhelming fullness.

"We'll start with you being quiet," Johnny shifts the position, grasping your leg and guiding it higher up his waist, allowing his hips to sink lower. "That's right," his breathy voice pants against the skin of your neck, licking his way towards the hollow space at the base. "Be good, be quiet, or you won't get this cock back until you've learned some manners."

This was different, so different from the young Johnny. You whimper quietly, as your mouth refuses to form words to respond, choosing to bite into the fleshy part of his shoulders to stop the string of sounds, your lips are unwilling to be controlled.

"Much better," there's no mistaking the pleased tone in his voice.

In this position, his thrusts feel deeper than before and are a much slower, drawn out pace. There's more control. You can't do a single thing except grasp at his muscular arms and hang on as he works on destroying you completely, and he enjoys every moment. Johnny keeps at an almost painfully slow pace, grinding deeply into you before withdrawing excruciatingly slowly, until only his swollen head remains in your opening.

You turn to whisper an endearingly loud "Fuck," in his ear when his large hands seize your wrists and pin them together above your head, and he stops thrusting completely. "Nuh-uh." his nose brushes against your neck.

"What are the rules?" Johnny inquires smoothly. "I won't move a muscle unless you tell me."

"Johnny...I can't.." you gripped his shoulder. "Feels so good. I don't know if I can keep quiet."

"Try for me, baby," he murmurs in response. "Try, and I promise, it'll be worth the wait," Johnny re-assures. "And then our next round, I'll have you screaming and moaning whatever obscenities you want. All you have to do is try to be a good girl, keep quiet while I ruin you for any other cock but mine. Can you do that, sweet girl?"

All you could do in response was nod desperately.

"Good girl," he says and the phrase lights you up inside in a way that's not humanly possible to handle. He then goes back to fucking the ever living shit out of you, increasing the intensity and pace. The sound of the mattress squeaking, the groaning, the banging of the bedpost against the wall, your quiet whimpers and Johnny's filthy grunts fill the air.

"Fuck!" Johnny lets go of your hands and grabs hold of the headboard to brace himself, pounding mercilessly into your slick pussy. "God I love you. You have no idea how much I've missed this pussy, missed you." His forehead rests on the side of your jaw, lips tracing along your exposed throat. "Go ahead, baby. Make all the noise you want."

At the explicit permission, your hand reaches up and clasps onto his arm. Johnny hears the soft inhales of oxygen leaving your lungs. Your heartbeat pounds in your chest at the overwhelming feeling. It wasn't going to take long. 

"Close," you manage to squeeze the words out in a broken croak, slithering your fingers into his sweaty tangle of hair.

Johnny entwined his fingers with yours, his touch sending a surge of warmth through you. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice husky, "look at me." 

You look at him, your breath getting trapped inside your lungs. With a deliberate brush of his fingertips against your skin, he picks up a strand of loose hair. You could never grow tired of the sight of his long eyelashes fluttering, gazing lovingly and tenderly at you as if you're the most precious and most important thing in the entire universe.

"Keep them on me, no matter what. If you do that, baby girl," the dark, intoxicating gleam in his hooded eyes paired with the absolutely feral way he is staring at you is almost too much. "I'll give you whatever you ask. But don't come without me." 

He groans loudly and snaps his hips even more rapidly. "Fuck baby, keep tightening against me like that and I'm going to fill you up, make your belly swell full," he huffs out another deep moan, losing the steady pace and falling victim to the pulsing clenching of your walls. "Give you all I've got."

"Cum in me," your rasp is followed by an even louder cry, completely overcome with sensations that seem to be converging. "P-please..fuck. Fill me. Put that seed deep inside, give me that cum, daddy. Fill me with it."

At this, all hell seems to break loose, and his hips begin slamming into you so rapidly, you swear your teeth are rattling. Johnny releases one of his hands from the headboard and slides it between your joined hands. 

"Keep looking at me," his command is broken and erratic, clearly affected by your begging. The neediness dripping from your tone and the want in your blown out, lust filled eyes has him aching to grant you your wish. His free fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, anchoring him to the world. 

"Goddamnit, baby, you want my load, you'll get it. Going to paint these walls white and then plug your pussy full of my cock. Stretch you around my base. Keep that cum there and locked tight inside of you, while I flip you over and do it all over again, just for you," he rasped. "Again and again, and again. Gonna pump you full until your tummy is so swollen you can't move."

You cry out at the possibility, tightening your fingers with his. Johnny continues his rhythm, using his entire body to pleasure you, his pelvis grinding mercilessly and bringing his mouth against the pulsing in the apex of your neck and shoulder. 

Johnny pants. "Put a baby inside that beautiful womb of yours," his voice trails off, his head dips low. "Mm, and if not this time, well, we'll just have to keep trying. Won't we, baby?"

You hear the squeak of the wood groaning at the strength the two of you are exerting in this position and you clench at his words.

"Let Daddy breed you, hmm?" Johnny murmurs in an airy voice, pulling back just enough to have his face hovering near yours. "You want daddy's babies? Make your tummy all swollen and beautiful for me?" he whispered against your lips, kissing you and nibbling, suckling the sensitive skin.

That does it, and it sets you off. A half-sob, half scream tears through your throat as your core tightens, the pulsing, spasms spreading from the center. Johnny moans in your ear, his teeth grazing your neck, and his hips continuing to thrust despite your own are what pulls him over the edge after you.

"Fuck," he swears and grunts your name in an unfamiliar, desperate rasp. Johnny grinds against you a little longer, helping the both of you through the last aftershocks. His lips return to yours, latching on softly. "That's right baby girl, such a good girl. Mm, coming for me the way I knew you could." He gently praises as his hands explore the sweaty expanse of your skin, hips still jerking ever so slightly with each spurt and moan of relief. 

You cannot find the strength, physically, to return the words. Instead, you nuzzle into his sweaty neck, drinking in the smell, committing it to your memories and mind forever, wrapping your limbs tight around his body like a sloth. He wraps his hands behind you, cradling and steadying you, mindful of the dizzying bliss that courses through you, his warm forehead on yours. Johnny holds you firmly. 

"You've done well," he said lovingly. "Just breathe, good girl."

Johnny pulls back a moment to settle beside you, with your head against the firmness of his arm and peppered several more kisses. "Good?" he questions softly.

"Did you feel good?" Your mouth parts in a toothy grin as you use every bit of strength you have to turn into his shoulder, pushing the damp strands away from his forehead. "Is my old man satisfied with his birthday gift?" you exhaled and caressed his face.

Johnny lets out a deep, satisfying sound that's a cross between a laugh and grunt, eyes flashing as they lock onto yours. "Could've done without the 'old man' crack, but yes," his thick fingers slowly brush over your temple and jawline. "I'm thrilled and completely satisfied with my gift. Fuck baby," Johnny presses a kiss onto the sensitive tip of your nose, which in turn wrinkles. "We should have been doing this a helluva lot longer."

"It's okay," you reassured him, taking his palm and entangling your fingers through his. "We have our whole lifetime now to make up for those missed years." You giggle. "Because like it or not, Johnny Suh, you're stuck with me. No takesies-backsies."

"Noted," his smile reaches his eyes, creasing and sparking at your silliness. He notices your eyes beginning to droop and an amused sigh escapes him, slowly guiding your body on top of his. "I know that was a lot for you. Are you sore? Tired? We can have a bath and have you resting before the sun rises, how about that?"

"Bath and then snuggling sound perfect," you nudge the side of your face into his chest, drawing on an even breathing.

"That's my girl," he coos, slipping the unruly tendrils of hair, hanging into the front of your face and tickling him, behind your ear. "I love you. Today has been the best birthday I've ever had."

"Happy birthday, Johnny," you're practically vibrating with content, draping yourself even more comfortably, perfectly content to fall asleep right where you are. "I love you too."

[artemisiasmuse]

Hey so ur insanely fucking talented I JUST read ur latest prompt if u have the time 🙂‍↔️ can we pls get a prompt of rafe going through readers Pinterest acc just to find that hidden board she’s so secretive about since she feels like ‘it’s too early for That and rafe wouldn’t like it’ and when reader finds out she’s just all prissy and a lil embarresed and rafes just all adorable about it <3333 anyways ly and take care it could be long too just dump ur head innit

ANON YOUR MIND i want to kiss ur brain, thank u for the support i appreciate so much :((

cw: fluff^2, some manhandling, height difference

rafe finding your wedding board:

he’s using your laptop for some work thing he can’t delay and since he’s at your place it just makes sense and you don’t think twice about it

once he’s done he notices your open tabs and while rafe is vehemently against snooping he can’t help himself but click on the “<3 wedding <3” pinterest tab he finds it full of rings, dresses, ceremony, decorations, cakes, and even invitation pictures. he thinks it’s sweet and he’s about to leave it alone, chalking it up to another girly thing, when he notices the description of the board. “for me and rafey one day” and then he decides no he can’t leave it alone. he takes a few pictures of the rings, for later, and tries to leave your laptop just as it was

he finds you in your room, putting clothes away into your closet and can’t help but think how you would in a wedding dress or just how pretty a ring would look on your fingers

you notice him staring, turning towards him with a smile, setting down the clothes you were folding, “all good?” he decides he’d much rather find out where you head is at, were you waiting for him to pop the question? you guys were young sure but not that young.

“uh huh, saw something interesting though.” his hands find your hips, turning you around so your back is to the wall. he knows you’ll try to run, so he gently walks you two backwards until your back is against the wall. you’re so trusting all you do is look up at him with wide eyes, he wonders if he should be concerned with how easily you let him manhandle you

“yeah what’s that rafey?” you mumble, taken with how strong your boyfriend is and how good he looks in a plain white tee. it should be illegal

“rafey there’s that name, you know you and rafey could make ‘one day’ a lot sooner.” he smirks down at you, leaning down with his arm resting next to your head, caging you in. you close your eyes as you realize at once what he’s referring to, embarrassment making you unable to meet his eyes. oh god you were so fucked. you’d been dating a while but you didn’t think it was time to bring up marriage! you were scared of rafe finding out and now you’d definitely fucked it up. god how embarrassing!

“hey! you weren’t supposed to see that.” you huff, your cheeks puffing up and you’re practically stomping your feet like a little kid. rafe is endlessly endeared, laughing at your reaction

“oh but you left it open, thought you wanted me to see?” he was crowding you against the wall, leaning down so he was your height and you couldn’t help but blink up at him owlishly. rafe was having too much fun teasing you.

“no i-, it was a mistake okay? just forget you saw it, we’re too young and it’s too-“

“relax baby, i thought it was cute, i was ready to propose on our second date.” he cut you off, there was no way in hell he’d give you the impression he wasn’t all in. your heartbeat stuttered at his words, second date, so early on you hadn’t even thought about a relationship let alone marriage.

“stop teasing.” your cheeks puffed up, if you weren’t so embarrassed you might have cried from how mean he was being. you really loved him truly and deeply, if he proposed you weren’t even sure if you could bring yourself to say no, age be damned.

“i’m not, mrs. cameron” your lashes fluttered at the name, rafe loved how easy it was to read you.

“oh my god.” you groaned, stuffing your face into his chest and making him laugh at your reaction. rafe thinks you should start getting used to the name, it’s gonna be yours soon anyway. now he just has to steal one of your rings to get the size right.

[notlongtolove]

petals and frost

hotch had called it a brief attachment—six months, no more. an agent liaison from the nyc office, sent down to smooth future communication, to streamline workflow. a brief attachment, hotch had said. too bad spencer hadn’t really remembered to keep it in mind. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst w no happy ending (sowie)

content: avoidant bau reader, non descriptive mentions of sex

word count: 2.8k words

note: written for @mggslover 1k event, congrats once again my love!!! yall can blame @esote-rika for that sadistic ending, i idea dumped that on her and said i didnt know if it wld be too angsty and she begged me to use it so... fuck yalls valentines ig (anyways spencer reid, just know that i, user notlongtolove, would neverrrr do that to you)

a line: You’re spring and the purple wildflowers on his skin are begging to be made yours, over and over again.

And some part of me came alive, the first time that you called me ‘baby’ The perfect genius of our hands and mouths. - Hozier, First Time

Hotch had called it a brief attachment—six months, no more. An agent liaison from the NYC office, sent down to smooth future communication, to streamline workflow. You were easy to like, easy to talk to, definitely easy on the eyes. A brief attachment, Hotch had said. The phrase seemed almost oxymoronic—Spencer hadn’t really remembered to keep it in mind. 

As it turns out, there are a lot of other things Spencer forgets around you. When you twist your hair into a haphazard ponytail mid briefing, he forgets the third personality trait of a classified sociopath. You don’t. Interpersonal offensiveness, Reid. That’s criminology 101. Emily makes a comment under her breath about his IQ being slashed in half. If you do hear her, you pretend not to. 

When you slide a beer across the table after your first case, he forgets that he doesn’t drink, masking a grimace as he takes a sip. You’re trying. He doesn’t want you to feel bad. By the time he’s on his second, his face is warm. Too fast, he tells himself. From the alcohol, definitely not from the way your thigh is pressed against his in the booth.

Later, when you’ve got him pinned against the wall under a dim lamppost kissing him breathless, he tries to forget the bureau’s policy on interoffice relationships. It’s after hours. You’re not really part of the team. You’re here contractually. A technicality. He can make an exception. 

You run your hands through his hair tugging faintly and he decides he will make an exception. 

The only thing Spencer doesn’t forget that night is the route from O’Keefe’s to his apartment though it’s a blur all the way from the cab to his apartment to his bed. He pulls you through his front door, fingers curled tight around your wrist. A tangle of limbs and lips pressed against lips feverishly, desperately—He’s certain he’s got that memorised. 

“I’m not…” you start, voice faltering between kisses, searching for the right words that just aren’t coming when you’re straddling him and he’s looking at you the way that he is, “not looking for anything… serious.”

Alarm bells go off in his head blaring amidst the euphoric haze he’s in. It’s a warning he registers but doesn’t heed. Caution. Danger ahead. He tells himself that if he squints hard enough, that if he really really tries—It’s a challenge. And Spencer Reid has never backed down from a challenge.

So he bites. Takes the bait. Plays along.

“What makes you think I am?”

You smirk like you don’t believe him but your fingers move to make quick work of the buttons on his shirt anyways. He tries to laugh when you joke about how you should definitely apply for a permanent spot on the team now, but it sticks in his throat. He distracts himself by closing his eyes.

“Spencer,” you say breathlessly, “you sure about this, baby?” 

His eyes snap open so fast it startles you, leaving you flustered, halfway to pulling back before his grip tightens at your waist, keeping you right where you are. His throat bobs as he swallows hard.

“W-what’d you just say?”

You blink back at him. “I asked if you’re sure about—”

“No, the—the other part. The last part.���

A pause. Then, deliberately, “Baby?”

Oh fuck. 

“Y-yeah. That.” He squeezes his eyes shut like he’s bracing for impact. “Say it again. Please.”

You smirk, the corner of your mouth twitching like you’re holding back a laugh as you lean down to press slow, open-mouthed kisses down his bare chest, whispering against his skin, “whatever you want baby.” Spencer has to force his eyes shut again.

You mark him up in the shades of purple wildflowers. Spencer shivers at the sight of them. Theres not much talking when skin finally meets skin. Spencer’s starved, insatiable, burning hot and ice cold all at once. This okay, baby? Yes, yes, god, yes. Can I? Yes, please, please do. Sweat pools around your bodies and Spencer tries to forget how much he wants to remember this moment. The purple wildflowers bloom across his skin—deadnettle, henbit, african violets. 

Oh, he thinks, this one’s gonna hurt, isn’t it? 

When Spencer wakes the next morning, he’s only mildly afraid to open his eyes.

He’s never done this before—doesn’t know what to expect. But he knows enough to predict the possibilities. Regret. Yours, not his. Shame, embarrassment, maybe even anger. You’ll be gone. Nothing left behind but the imprint of your body on his sheets, marks of purple left in your wake. 

Spencer Reid does not like not knowing. 

So he braces himself, steels his nerves, and opens his eyes—only to be met with something far worse.

You. 

Still here.

Curled up beside him, peaceful, angel deep in sleep, gut wrenchingly soft. In sleep, you’re nothing like how you are on the field. Out there, you’re a good shot, a great one, you think quick on your feet, you’re confident, never stuttering or stumbling like he does. You’re heaven on earth, right in his bed—He’s utterly ruined for it. He doesn’t know what possesses him to move closer, to let newfound confidence guide his arm around your waist. But he does. You stir, just barely, waking to the feeling of his lips pressed into your hair.

The morning melts into something else entirely. An abandoned attempt at breakfast in bed, clothes forgotten in a scattered trail from the kitchen counter to the couch. Unsanitary, he’d think, if he weren’t already too far gone to care. The boy’s insatiable once again, chasing a thirst only you seem to have awakened in him. It’s fiery and passionate as drinks you in, icy cold hisses when you nip at his neck. But you’re neither summer nor winter. You’re spring and the purple wildflowers on his skin are begging to be made yours, over and over again. The way your nails claw at his back, marks of sinful desire turning into ivy that grows to cover you both. It’s entirely all encompassing.

God, you have him in the palm of your hand and you don’t even know it. 

Dancing around the team is its own kind of purgatory. Turtlenecks in sweltering Texas heat which you make up for with a fleeting kiss to his cheek in the break room when everyone else has their back turned. Spencer tells himself to keep his feelings in check, to keep his adoration at bay. But it’s hard to when you exist so seamlessly within the liminal spaces of the team. Always in Hotch’s good books. Cracking jokes just dirty enough to make Morgan laugh and Rossi raise a brow. Even JJ loves you.

Silently, Spencer thanks the BAU’s abysmal budget for the run-down motel they’ve stuck you in. It makes it that much easier to convince you to stay at his place—only for a night or two, maybe three, maybe four, eventually a Baby, Hotch is gonna call us in soon anyway, and the freeway near yours is a nightmare in the mornings. You might as well stay one more night. He seals with a look, a soft plea, and you cave every time.

5 months and a week is what you’ve built together. Your days are disgustingly domestic and Spencer just can’t seem to get enough. It’s not like the two of you go out much. Long days (and longer nights) in the field leave you both drained, running on fumes. Just enough energy left to call in takeout accompanied with something strong for you, water for him. Just enough left to trade lazy kisses between bites and fall into bed tangled together. This is it, isn’t it?

Waking to rushed mornings, shared showers, half-hearted protests when you insist on shampooing his hair for him. Bare feet on hardwood floors and the bumping of hips in the kitchen as he makes coffee for two. Rendezvous on a crappy motel mattress that creaks beneath the weight of both of you when you run out of clothes for the week. Baby, we shouldn’t really—swallowed by the press of lips.

Your laughter comes to him in little bursts of light. You’re his absolute heart in human form. 

The purple wildflowers haven’t made an appearance in awhile but spring blooms in his chest all the same. When you inevitably drift off to the sound of his voice reading Spencer makes a mental note to bring The Iliad when he comes to visit. You’ll probably be done with Dante’s inferno by then. The weak fistful you have of his shirt tightens ever so slightly in your sleep and he knows what you want. He turns to shut off the light and fits himself against you, tucking you closer to his chest. Spencer tries to distract himself from the fact that you’re set to leave in a month. He’d drink dry the River Lethe to forget it if he could. Instead, in the quiet, he allows himself to think about what the weather will be when he gets the chance to visit you. 

He’s always wanted to go to New York. He’s never been the best flyer and he doesn’t know how he’ll fare on a flight without the comfort of his team and the jet’s coffeemachine. It’ll have to make do, he thinks. It’s only a little over an hour’s flight. He tells himself it’s basically nothing. He can handle it. Besides, he can always make the eight hour drive, or the six hour train. The options are endless, much like his devotion to you—He’ll walk to you if he has to. 

“Do you think you’ll have time for a trip when I come visit?” Spencer asks one night, eyes boring holes into the ceiling. You’re too busy fumbling with the buttons of his pants to catch the lovelorn grin tugging at his lips. “I know there’s probably a lot to see in New York, but I’ve been saving my days off. And if I catch Hotch on a good day, I think I could carve out a few more.”

“Oh, baby, I don’t know,” you murmur, distractedly, “I usually don’t get much time off when I’m back. Let me know if you are planning to come, though—I’d love to show you around for a day or two.”

The fuck? 

Show him around? A day or two?

It’s frosty. Ice cold. A slow caress of his cheek at arms length. Cruel in the way that kindness can be. He tenses beneath you, shifting upright so suddenly that you blink up at him, confused.

“Everything okay, baby?”

The frown on his face indicates he’s anything but okay. “Yeah,” Spencer lies. “I just… I just thought—I mean, you knew I was planning to come visit, right?”

You hesitate. “Spence, we didn’t really discuss that, I—”

“I know we didn’t.” He tries to keep his frustration subtle, but it slips through when he runs a hand through his hair sharply. “But this? Us? How could I not?”

You try again, gentler this time. “Oh, baby, you don’t have to. I know you’re really busy, and—”

“I want to.”

The realisation settles slowly into your features. And then, quietly—naively—he lets himself ask, “Don’t you want me to?” 

Silence.

Oh. 

Somewhere deep inside him the ivy shrivels and the purple wildflowers wither. It appears that spring has come to a close. 

“Spencer,” you say gravely, “I thought we talked about this—” He doesn’t hear the rest. It all dissolves into static, white noise humming in his skull. He hates that tone on you—the way it sounds so careful, so deliberate. Its how you talk to Hotch, to unsubs, to people that need to be managed. Never how you talk to him. Not how you talk to him when you share sly jokes and interlock pinkies at the back of the van, thighs touching when you share a blanket in the jet. Not how you talk when you whisper baby, stop, someones gonna see us when he insists on a chaste kiss to your nose and another to your forehead—Because how could he ever stop at one?

He blinks back into focus when you reach for his hand, thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles.

He should brace for the inevitable. He knows what’s coming, but he’s too far gone for it to matter, too far off the deep end for it to hurt now. What’s a stab to the heart when you make up for it with cotton-soft kisses and a feather light touch? I’m sorry, baby. Please don’t be sad. I wish I could stay too. Don’t be mad, okay? I don’t want you to be mad at me. As if he ever could be. Not when you’re kissing him the way that you are. Still, Spencer tries to tell himself that the wildflowers that bloom into rosettes beneath your touch are fragile things. He tries to carve it into his bones to remind himself that they won’t survive the winter of your absence.

It starts with the smallest frost, like soft snowflakes clinging to his lashes, signs he might have missed if he wasn’t already looking out for them. “Baby, you shouldn’t have,” you say when he comes home with a restock of your makeup remover. Spencer only shrugs, wordless. He knows you mean it. Not out of politeness, not out of gratitude, but because there won’t be any use for it soon.

Winter calls for shorter days, for less sunlight. It brings more cases, more exhaustion, more time spent apart. Nights where Spencer wakes up to an empty bed because you’d insisted on packing your suitcase, and insisted on doing it alone. As it turns out, the cold really does bite. 

It all couldn’t happen fast enough.

Nobody bats an eye when Spencer insists on tagging along to drop you off at the airport. It’s practical, really—an extra set of hands. Even Morgan doesn’t say a word, doesn’t call him lover boy with that knowing smirk. Maybe he would’ve if Spencer didn’t already look like he was on the brink of death. Hotch keeps his goodbye brief, a quiet nod, a quick squeeze of your shoulder after he helps unload your suitcase from the van. He mumbles something about keeping in touch, about how the door’s always open. 

Spencer is the one who walks you to your terminal. You walk briskly ahead of him, fingers curled loosely around the handle of your suitcase. You’d brushed off his offer to help—All the better because he has to shove his hands into the pockets of his coat just to keep them steady. He tries to count the steps between the check-in counter and security. All in all, both literally and ironically, too little too late. 

This is finality, signed, sealed, delivered. The clock has run out. Spencer Reid is out of time. And, for once, Spencer Reid is out of words. 

So, it’s you who takes his hand, pulling him closer. Drop me a call if you ever come visit okay? I will, I will. You’ll love it there. Take care. Call me whenever. This was amazing. You’re amazing. You’re so good. Too good. It’s you who tilts his chin and kisses him with such force he wants call it love. He would call it love. If you asked, he’d rip the wildflowers from his ribs and place them at your feet as proof disguised as an offering. You’re kissing like you’re trying to make him forget—where you both are, where you’re going, where he’s staying. You pull away, breathless, fingertips ghosting along his jaw when the intercom blares above you. He lets the last shreds of sunlight slip from his grasp when you walk through the gate. Spencer doesn’t stay to see if you turn back or not. He’s felt like an afterthought enough. 

The van is quiet when he climbs in.

Spencer ignores Hotch’s glances, keeps his head down, busies himself with the air conditioning. Granted, he rarely sits shotgun, but still, today, it feels colder than usual.

“She’s a great agent.”

“She is. She… worked great in the team.” Spencer’s fingers tighten around the vent. He nods, swallows around the lump in his throat. “You should’ve offered her a spot.”

Hotch’s eyes stay set on the road. “I did. JJ and I drafted a two-year contract for her.”

Spencer scoffs bitterly, “yeah? I’m sure Strauss took that well.” 

“Strauss had no issue with it.” 

That makes Spencer pause. His head turns, brows pulling together. “Then?”

A beat of silence before Hotch exhales, “she rejected it.”

The world stops. His stomach drops first, then his chest. Fragile stems and violet petals turn brittle, cracking as the frost works its way through him. Tiny pieces of petals and frost splinter his being. A brief attachment, no doubt. He should’ve known better. He should’ve noticed the subtlest change in the winds, distractions cloaked in tender touches as wandering hands made their way beneath clothes, apologies in a baby, I wish I could stay too. He really should’ve remembered to forget you. 

He feels the wildflowers inside him freeze over and with the gentlest shift of breath—They shatter.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

[cambankromyy]

THE ISLAND LOOKOUT (pt.10): get a room - (smau & irl au) childhood bsf!rafe cameron x thornton!reader

series masterlist; general masterlist; taglist

warning/an; kinda? implied smut/sexual content. i think real real smut is coming in ch.12... AFTER midsummers

part 9 - part 10 - part 11

you pull into tannyhill, the headlights cutting through the driveway as you park. the drive from the chateau was quiet, the kind of calm you didn’t realize you needed until you finally had it, especially after almost being caught with jj.

sarah’s already out of the car and heading toward the front door, phone in hand. "need to grab a few things before dinner," she says without looking up. you just follow her inside, not even bothering to answer. you can hear her moving around in the kitchen as you take off your shoes and toss your bag onto the couch.

it’s quieter than usual. too quiet. you glance around, the house emptier than you’re used to.

"where’s everyone?" you ask, scanning the room.

sarah doesn’t even glance up. "wheezie day. ward and rose took her out."

you nod, not needing any further details. you’ve learned enough to know the deal with wheezie and her little trips.

you don’t ask about rafe, though. "oh, i think he’s with topper at the club," sarah adds, clearly not caring enough to offer anything else.

you just shrug. it’s whatever. not like you’d want to hear any more about them tonight.

dinner’s laid-back, comfortable. nothing extraordinary, just easy chatter and the usual back-and-forth. it’s simple. you laugh, maybe share some stories. by the time you finish eating, you're full and content, ready to crash.

you drop sarah back off at tannyhill after dinner, settling into your bed as soon as you get home, scrolling through your phone. the house stays quiet, though you can hear the crashing waves outside and the occasional sound of footsteps outside. at some point, you hear the front door open. voices—muffled, indistinct. you figure topper and ruthie are back, a little earlier than usual— 10 pm. maybe drunk and stumbling, but then the voices fade, and you don’t think much of it.

until you hear it.

a sound. a very specific sound.

your brow furrows. you sit up, listening closer.

moaning.

you immediately groan, flopping back onto your bed. ugh. topper. gross.

it wouldn’t be the first time. he and ruthie were shameless, and unfortunately, the walls in this house weren’t soundproof. you sigh and grab your phone, fingers already moving before you can think twice.

you put your phone down, staring at the ceiling.

it’s fine. you don't care. it’s just rafe. and sofia.

it shouldn’t piss you off as much as it does.

you do not care that rafe is here. you do not care that he’s with sofia. you are completely indifferent.

that’s why you go about your normal night. that’s why you act completely normal as you brush your teeth, change into your pj's, and definitely don't press your ear against the wall to see if you can still hear them.

(you can. you hate it.)

when you get into bed, you try to go to sleep, but your brain is racing. you grab your phone.

sarah doesn't text back after that, probably falling asleep.

you should do the same. but you don't.

the next morning, you wake up early, which is unusual for you. but you refuse to let last night make you weird. you go downstairs to get coffee and pretend nothing happened.

and then you see them.

rafe is sitting at the counter, staring into the void, looking like he didn’t sleep at all. sofia is standing in front of him, digging through the fridge like she owns the place, casually sipping from his water bottle.

topper and ruthie are there too, sitting at the kitchen table, lost in their own world as they eat breakfast. topper’s half-asleep, shoveling eggs into his mouth like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, while ruthie scrolls through her phone, nudging him every so often to show him something. they don’t even glance at you when you walk in.

which is fine. you don’t need them to. you just need to get your coffee and go.

you grab something from the fridge, acting casual, pretending that nothing about this morning is off—that nothing about this bothers you. you brace yourself for something nauseating, some gross display that’ll make you want to walk into the ocean. but then you actually watch them.

sofia’s hand trails over rafe’s shoulder. he doesn’t even react.

she leans in, saying something in his ear, probably something flirty, and he just nods absently, barely paying attention.

when she kisses him, he doesn’t even move forward. it’s all her.

you shouldn’t be, but you are. you’re happy. overjoyed that he could care less about sofia—but it feels so wrong to think like that.

you snap out of it, grab your drink, and practically skip out of the kitchen, knowing sofia is just a stand in. for who? you don't know. but some part of you, a feeling buried deep inside, wishes for it to be you.

tags: @italk2god @angelicameron @marleymarleymarleymarley, @queenvane64, @raeven-marie43 @idiotussupremus @sereneera @yesshewrites1 @inlovewithchriss @ethanthequeefqueen @amterasuu @popou61 @drewsstars @yannew @anothertimegirl @flvredcas @yootvi @mrsdrewstarkeyy @niaunofficial @cooper8224 @rafegetinmybed @pogueprincesa @6r4cie @adalia-lovelace @bee-43 @drewrry @masongetinmybed @defnotayonna @lcversvoid @my-name-is-baby @lolasangelz @polli05927 @laniirackssss @rafecameronswifeyy @starsval @hypnotizedstarkey

[makeitworse]

he’s not me

˖ ࣪✦ su-bong (thanos) x f reader x dae-ho | nsfw dc, mdni

freshly single, you’re out on the town hunting a rebound from your shitty ex. but did you really think he’d let you get away that easy?

c/w: dark themes! drug addiction, very toxic relationship, violence & abuse, choking, possessiveness, manipulation, dub+noncon, cunnilingus, semi-public unprotected sex, degradation, so much angst a/n: sequel to this (or a standalone). this became so much longer than i intended.. there’s alot going on. i intentionally left the ending open. it’s your choice if they do/don’t eventually get back together

it’s your first night post-freedom from su-bong, and you couldn’t be more eager to sink your teeth into someone new.

you walk the crowded streets under fluorescent lights in the tiniest dress you own. the type you’d keep hidden in the back of your closet: su-bong wouldn’t like it. he’d ask who you think you’re trying to impress. well nevermind him. fuck him.

you spare a wink to every man that you checks you out. you don’t avoid brushing against them, you don’t even flinch when you feel their hand lingering a second too long as you pass by. you’re in need of a distraction tonight, and any man will do.

you float through bars, and the men gravitate to you. you’re not really listening when they tell you about their business or their crypto or all the women they have on speed-dial as if you’re meant to cum on the spot. the lines you did before you left the house had made it impossible to zone out.

you were chucking back any shots that slid your way. you were in a rush to drown out the thoughts of your ex creeping in.

you couldn’t hold glasses too long, else you’d remember the shatters that littered across the floor when he threw them. you couldn’t stare at doors too long, else you’d remember hearing his fist denting the wood and blood marking the spots. you said you were done being with him, and he showed you exactly why.

you take deep breaths to ground yourself. attention from old drunks at the bar was a shitty pre-game; you needed someone who could pound the memories of your ex out of you.

back on the street, you were already wobbling with the weight of all the please-fuck-me drinks they bought you - but who’s counting anyway? you bee-lined to the first place booming with flashing lights and music.

you’re leaning at the bar, squinting through the pulsing LED lights to scan the crowds. your breath hitches as a hand lands on your ass.

you face him, hoping to god it’s not you-know-who, and thank fucking christ it’s not. god, you need him out of your head already. this guy’s not hot enough to do the job though.

you tune him out as he talks your ear off, and you continue to check out the selection. your gaze lands on a man sitting at a table with his back turned to you, hair falling down his neck: nam-gyu?

you really couldn’t tell through all this rainbow flashbanging of the lights.

you watch him turn his head to the side, chatting to the person sitting next to him. his face is full with a warm smile, and focusing through all the music you could just hear the gentleness of his laugh. yeah that’s definitely not nam-gyu. but colour you attracted.

you honed in on him.

the few people around the table took notice of you, and not-nam-gyu turns in his stool to face you. he’s gorgeous.

you hadn’t noticed that his hair was actually half-up in a ponytail. strands fell around his face, and he eyed you curiously with that kind smile. you wanted to sit on it.

“don’t i know you?”

he shakes his head gently, seeming almost disappointed in himself for not recognising you back. you bite your lip and feign trying to put a name to his face.

“oh!” you point to him, “you’re the guy who’s taking me to the dance floor.”

whistles and gibes erupted around the table. he glances to his friends, then shyly back at you. your palm opens for him, and with a friend’s nudge to his shoulder, his hand’s on top of yours.

your fingers weave between each other’s as you lead him to the floor. as you squeeze through the dancing crowd, he plants a careful hand on your back and keeps you close to him, pushing through people first to open the way for you.

he turns to you, and your arms wrap around his shoulders. “what a gentleman.”

he just chuckles, cautiously keeping that singular hand on your back. you can’t say you’re used to such restraint for a man.

“i’m sorry, i haven’t asked your name.”

you coo it to him, pulling him in to press your bodies together. he gasps under his breath.

“dae-ho.” he smiles gently, flustered.

you sway together to the music, quickly progressing to jumping and hands in the air. you’re both giggling through the flashing lights. your cheeks hurt from smiling and your throat’s sore from singing - but you’re moving in sync, moving like you were made for one another.

you already felt a flame flickering in your belly, even with such little words. you’d long forgotten your main objective: now you just wanted to keep basking in dae-ho’s warmth. you wanted to know more than just his name.

you brush the tip of your nose against his and catch his breath come out shallow. your hands slowly drag his own down your back, and he almost resists with uncertainty. but you gaze up at him through half-lidded eyes: irises pools of desire. dae-ho succumbs, and his hands rest on your ass.

you loll your head forward, lips grazing his jaw. his chest falls with a deep exhale.

“i’m sorry, gorgeous. we can’t do anything while you’re in this state.”

you furrow your brow with genuine confusion. he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear in reassurance.

“i promise i want to, but you’re drunker than i am. it’s not right.”

oh. see, your ex wouldn’t have given one singular fuck about that. (there was one particular instance when you were sobbing after a bad trip, and he had the audacity to get hard.)

you cupped dae-hoe’s blushing cheek in your hand. “then can we see in the morning?”

your voice delivered needy. he notices, and sighs. you were a breathing moral dilemma for dae-ho. his first instinct wasn’t just taking what he wants. not like he would have.

“i shouldn’t let you go home alone like this, anyway.”

you smile together. you chuckle together. you want to kiss him. so you do.

but he pulls you away with a gentle hand on your cheek. you pout.

“i’ll make it up to you once you’re thinking clearly.”

a rough hand locks around your arm and snatches you from dae-ho. you knock into his chest and breathe in the smoke clinging to his shirt. you knew exactly who it was before you heard his annoying drawl.

“babygirllll, i’ve been looking for you.” su-bong squishes your cheeks with his hand under your chin, and you writhe in his grip. “you’ve had me so worried.”

dae-ho tensed upon seeing your resistance. “hey!-”

you watch su-bong stare daggers back at dae-ho. “and who the fuck are you?” he juts his jaw, taking a step closer. “huh??”

heads begin turning at his voice raising, with whispers among the crowd recognising him as a rapper. “fuck you think you’re doin’ all up on my girl, bro?”

“su-bong.” you hiss. he cocks his head ever-so-slightly in your direction, like he couldn’t care less about what you have to say. but you knew what he wanted.

“let’s just go.”

his hand lands on your waist, fingers digging in like he’s trying to break the skin. you don’t hide the fact that you wince. he mutters, “there’s my good girl.”

then he’s dragging you through the crowd, and you can’t bear to spare dae-ho a second glance.

su-bong kicks open a backdoor and shoves you out into a dark alleyway filled with dumpsters. he doesn’t spare you any time to observe your surroundings, because he leeches onto your face and invades your mouth with his tongue.

his knee pushes through your legs to dig up into your core. his long arms kept you in place, hold too tight to writhe free from.

su-bong’s touch seared your skin like acid - but it was a familiar sting. comforting even. you almost missed it.

your body submits to him. you kiss him back, you whine into his mouth. just like he wants. you won’t admit it to yourself, but you’re not even fully acting.

once you feel his grip loosen, you knee him in the crotch, shoving him away as he keels over.

su-bong’s groans of pain blends into a low chuckle. “fuck, you tease.”

“take a fucking hint, su-bong! we’re over!”

“mm,” he hums, like he’s not taking you seriously. he steps to you again. you step back. “you know much i need you. i can’t live without my pretty lady.”

“you’re a fucking cockblocker.”

su-bong bites his lip, eyes scanning over your outfit choice. that little dress that revealed a little too much.

“shit, baby,” his palms carelessly roamed all over your curves, ignoring you trying to push them away. “looks like you were just begging for my attention, huh?”

you scoff. “any man’s but yours.”

you catch the twitch of his eyebrow and clench of his jaw. you recognised well the signs of when he was getting ticked off. but you also caught the moment he cleared his head with a sigh. can’t fuck up his big chance now.

su-bong just shakes his head with a smirk.

“tell me, baby. who’d take you in-,” he pinches your chin. “-after they see you’re just a junkie with a pretty face?”

he makes sure to flick his gaze at you, catch the fleeting shame in your eyes. of course he does. he’s revelling in this shit. like he can save you from yourself if you just run into his arms now.

“it’s none of your business who i fuck. we’re not together anymore.”

“right,” he hunches over with a laugh. “and i guess we’ve both quit drugs too, right?”

you didn’t want to keep getting him off by provoking you, but you just couldn’t swallow down the words stinging your throat.

“like you didn’t get me hooked on that shit!” you spat. “fuck you!-”

you blink, and pain radiates all over your back. you blink again, and su-bong’s pressing into you. it takes a third blink to realise he’d shoved you against the alley wall.

it’s not the bruising grip of his hands on your body or his nails digging into your skin that scares you, it’s his piercing gaze. like his eyes are ripping you open.

“don’t.. even tempt me.”

his voice is hoarse, laced with want. need. he’s itching for a fix.

he brings a delicate hand up to caress your face. “i can be good, baby. i promise. i can do better for you this time.”

he’s planting soft kisses on your neck, goosebumps spreading across your skin as he whispers about how much he loves you, everything he’d do for you.

you shut your eyes as tears gloss over them. there used to be a point in time where you would’ve believed him. and maybe he would’ve meant it too.

but now, the love that binded you was replaced by an addiction: not only drugs, but each other.

the highs were full of screams and bruises and hate-sex. and the withdrawals were even worse. you were dying after every dose. you were killing the other, and yourself.

“we bring out the worst in each other, su-bong.”

“then there’s nobody else for us.”

no two people should ever hold the power to hurt each other like you do. you decide then- not even think, just state:

“i’m going clean tomorrow.”

su-bong scoffs. he doesn’t believe you mean it, and you’re not even sure you do.

“so you’re never seeing me again.”

after a beat, his expression turns solemn. he realises you’re not just provoked, you’re not just trying to hurt him- you’re serious.

his eyes trail off, lost in thought. your body braces itself on instinct. you don’t know what he’ll do to you next. but he just meets your gaze, black pupils swallowing his irises in desire.

“then why are you still here?”

and your lips were on his. your teeth clashed together and his nicked at your lip from the haste, but you kept kissing feverishly through the pain. your tongues twisted with each other’s: su-bong was desperate to reach every corner, taste every last bit of you for the last time. one last hit until you quit him cold turkey.

his hands greedily groped at your tits, your hips, your ass - while your own slid underneath his baggy shirt to claw at his back.

he bit at your neck, you scratched at his flesh. you rolled your hips into his, and he thrusted his hard-on back. he crashed his lips onto yours and kissed you like he was starving to eat you alive.

su-bong keeled over with a moan from the back of his throat as you grasped the outline of his dick through his pants, hot and damp with pre-cum.

in turn he pulled the hem of your dress up. you felt the twitch of his cock in your palm when he saw your pussy dripping- no panties.

“you fucking little-”

you forced su-bong down by his shoulders and he fell to his knees.

“shut the fuck up.”

you push him to your cunt and cry out when he latches on with a hot, open mouth.

he’s lapping at you like a dog. you slouch against the wall as your legs go numb, and su-bong crushes a hand around your hamstring to keep you in place for him. his other splits your cunt open with two digits inside, curling recklessly while he sucks your clit.

incoherent curses at him blended together with your whines. any ‘fuck you’ was lost in a moan when he’d pull his fingers in and out to hit your sweet spot.

he knew you were close with the way your voice went hoarse and your thighs clamped around his head - and that’s when the bitch pulled away.

he propped you up against the wall and tugged his waistband down, his cock springing free with a string of pre-cum.

“shit, baby.” he bit his lip and lined himself up with you. he groaned as his tip prodded your cunt. “you sure we’re over?”

“yes we fucking are.”

you moaned in sync when he thrusted in. for a beat, he stayed there, filling you to the hilt. his heaving body had you pushed up against the wall. he was savouring it. he groaned lowly into your ear.

“hurry up.”

your head knocked back into the wall as he snatched your neck into his hand and started slamming his hips into yours.

the throbbing in your crown was drowned out by su-bong abusing your cunt with his impatient pace, ramming into your cervix and eliciting a cry from you with every thrust.

su-bong was fucking you like you’ll drop dead when the clock strikes midnight. and in a way- the version of you that’d let a man fuck you like he hates your guts will.

su-bong stuck his forehead onto yours, beading with sweat. you saw yourself in his eyes: brows knotted, eyes laced with disgust. and his own were fawning over you, lips panting with a smile.

“you make me fucking sick.” you stammer out, feeling the knot undo with every ram of his dick to your sweet spot.

he presses a wet kiss to your lips that you don’t return. “i’m in love with you, baby.”

you unravelled then. su-bong maintained his bruising pace while your walls fluttered around his cock. he bit down onto your shoulder to smother his moans as his hips stuttered inside of you, and he came following yours.

your bodies slouched together. your hair stuck to your skin with sweat, and you thought you saw the dye dripping from su-bong’s ends.

you wish you hadn’t cum when you did. you wish you didn’t give him the satisfaction of that being the magic words. you wish you could tell yourself it wasn’t because of him.

without a second glance, you pulled his dick out of you with a grunt from him. smoothing your dress back down, you bump shoulders with su-bong as you move to leave. his arm shoots out around your waist to halt you.

and you just shove it off of you.

you keep your head forward, and as the door swings open to greet you with the booming club music, the only thought in your mind is to find dae-ho.

empty bottles of wine collected on the floor next to your side of the bed. futile attempts to ignore the scab your brain kept picking at.

it’s been months, and you can’t go a day without scratching at it to see if it still hurts. if you just left it alone, then maybe you’d actually heal.

you thought you saw him. you don’t even really know if you did, or if you just wanted to. a flash of purple hair amongst the club’s crowd had your throat burning with bile.

dae-ho’s arm snug around your waist felt you stiffen up, and he faced you: tears already clumping in your lashes. him taking you back home went without question.

now you were dozing off as dae-ho stroked your hair, half-lidded eyes full of adoration. he drew over the lines of your face with his fingers, his touch so gentle like you’d crack if he wasn’t careful.

if he was more like your ex, he’d try to see how rough you could take before you shattered. and then he’d pick up every piece to put you back together.

you were warm in bed with your boyfriend cooing you to sleep about how much he loves you, but tonight all you could think of is how he could never compare to su-bong.

dae-ho gets up to slide under the cover of his side. you gravitate to his heat, burying your face in his neck. he jumps when you plant a hand on the front of his boxers.

“hey- let’s save that for the morning, okay? after i’ve made you a coffee.” he chuckles.

he kisses your forehead. but for some reason, your skin seared with.. disappointment.

su-bong would have taken full advantage of you in your boozy state. you would’ve been irresistible to him, so well-behaved. so perfect for him.

..does dae-ho not want you?

you don’t even know why, but suddenly you’re sobbing quietly and staining his shirt with tears. and dae-ho’s comforting you, apologising if he said anything wrong, and none of it feels right. it’s just not what su-bong would do. he’s just not him.

su-bong hovers over the faces of girls in the bar crowd till he finds vaguely what he’s looking for. she’s pretty, probably. she looks enough like you from afar.

a little bit of chit-chat, and he’s thrusting up into her against the wall of the grimy restroom. he doesn’t look at her face, he wasn’t listening when she introduced herself. his eyes were screwed shut to keep his mind in the place he wanted. the place he needed to cum. and it slips from his mouth in a moan as he does.

a few seconds of shocked silence pass before the girl’s shoving him and mumbling cusses. “why didn’t you just fuck her then?!” rings out as the door slams behind her.

for months on end he’d been numbing himself with shit he wouldn’t let you touch - and still none of the harder drugs were giving him withdrawals like you leaving. needing you was hardwired into his brain chemistry. and well, you had been far more addicted than he was.

you’ll get bored of that guy. and the ones that follow him, too. but nothing will come close to the high that su-bong gave you.

and you always know where to find home.

[acphengene]

Little dove

₊ ⁺ pairing: Jake x afab!reader

₊ ⁺ genre: soulmate!au, sweet asf fluff and the tiniest bit of angst

₊ ⁺ wordcount: 3.2k

₊ ⁺ note: this can be read as a standalone but also as a part of my enhypen soulmate series. let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list

₊ ⁺ Jake ₊ ⁺ Jungwon ₊ ⁺ Jay ₊ ⁺ Sunoo ₊ ⁺ Heeseung ₊ ⁺ Niki ₊ ⁺ Sunghoon ₊ ⁺

When Jake woke up at his 13th birthday, he frantically searched his whole body for any type of physical mark. It was generally known that it was a little easier to find your other half when your mark literally could count down the seconds until you met them.

And right there on the inside of his bicep it said ‘bite your lip one more time’ in fine red letters. He had wondered just why his soulmate would want him to bite his lip, because in the eyes of a child that caused pain and nothing else.

His family had celebrated, and he had been nothing short of excited and hopeful that he would get to meet you sooner rather than later. But as most people he would have to wait.

When he traveled to Korea to live his dream, he hoped that it would bring him closer to you. And when the dream took him to a tv-program he hoped with every bone in his body that you’d be watching and cheering him on.

The tattoo, he made sure stayed hidden, he had no interest in people who weren’t you, saying those words to him.

When he and the guys had debuted, they shared their marks with one another, there was no reason not to, and he felt lucky that he didn’t have to hurt like Heeseung, somewhat jealous that Jay had known his soulmate since he got the mark. And despite him feeling bad for his platonic soulmate, he couldn’t help but be thankful that he wasn’t markless like Sunghoon

Engene loved theorizing when it came to them and their marks. There was no doubt in the fandom that Jake had a physical mark, also no doubt that it had to be somewhere on his arm. He had a habit of almost always grabbing on to his bicep whenever he was nervous.

They could however not agree on which mark it was, but he enjoyed seeing people’s theories on social media. He felt grateful that most of the fandom was so acceptable of it, not all groups were that lucky.

One afternoon he threw himself onto Niki’s bed once again scrolling on weverse to see what their sweet fans were up to.

“Dude seriously? With your outside clothes and everything?” The young man said as he looked at his hyung with judgement in his eyes.

He only rolled his eyes. “Do you think they’ve ever posted on weverse?”

Niki shrugged. “No idea, if I’m being honest I try not to think about it too much. In the end mine is definitely not close by”

“I hope mine is close” Jake said with a far away look in his eyes.

“Wouldn’t that be korean if that was the case?” Niki said as he pointed to the red words.

Jake looked at his arm and sighed. “Fuck, I didn’t think of that”

Niki laughed. “Obviously. But don’t worry too much okay? You’ll find them when it’s time”

“How’s the string?” Jake asked as a diversion.

Niki looked down at his left pinkie, where a red string was neatly tied with a little bow. He followed it out and through the window of the room. Where it’s stretched all the way to the horizon.

“Still tight as ever, wherever they are, they’re in no hurry to get closer” He shrugged. Niki had always had a very casual way of seeing the world, and once in a while Jake needed to be reminded to take it easy.

He was right after all, the Universe had given them a soulmate for a reason, and would pull you together when it deemed fit. But sometimes that could be a little hard to accept.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust that, it was more so that he was impatient, he wanted to get to know you, sooner rather than later.

As they traveled for their tours he frantically searched every face in every crowd hoping someone would draw his attention, that he would feel that pull and calmness people so often described.

In a new city, he found himself in a Prada store, looking at a new collection, as they all were picking things out.

“What do you think?” Jay said as he held up a bag.

“Pretty sure that’s a woman’s bag” Jake said with a chuckle.

As the fashionista Jay was, he only sighed. “First of all fashion is gender less, plus it’s not for me… it’s for her. I think she’ll like it”

Jake shook his head with a smile, as he tried to avoid that sting of jealousy he always felt whenever Jay talked about his other half. He knew it was most likely harder than he ever admitted. To know her, but to not have her would be torture in and of itself.

“Do you have this with gold hardware instead of silver?” Jay asked one of the sales assistants.

“We should have one in the back, give me a second and I’ll see if I can find it”

That. Voice.

It stopped Jake's entire world as he quickly turned towards you. And as he saw your eyes and that sweet and polite smile, it was as if the world stopped spinning, and everyone around him disappeared. For a second there was only you.

You went to the back to go and fetch the bag Jay had asked for, and for a second he almost followed you behind the counter.

He stood there as a puppy waiting for its owner, eyes locked on the door you had disappeared through. His fingers drummed on the glass as his heart beat frantically.

“Jake?” Sunghoon said as he tried to get his friends' attention. When he didn’t answer, he laid a hand on his shoulder, but his eyes never left that door.

“Not now” he whispered, and it almost sounded like he was in pain, and then you walked back through the door with the dust bag and set it almost right before him.

His breath hitched when you finally looked at him. He saw how your eyes widened, how your mouth fell open in almost chock. And for a second he thought: my first words can’t just be hey.

Instead he bit his lip nervously, he had always done it. Maybe it was because of the words you were to one day say to him, maybe it was just who he was. Your eyes fell to his mouth, and he saw the subtle twitch of the corner of your mouth.

“Bite your lip one more time…” you almost whispered the words, and as if you just realized what you said your hands flew up to cover your own mouth.

A gasp filled the room from both the guys, but also their bodyguards, and the whole room stilled.

“God I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud”

Jake just smiled like a maniac, as he felt the tears prick in his eyes. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere” he said as he opened his arms for you to meet him if you wanted.

You threw yourself over the counter, not caring for the bag you had just put down, not caring for what your manager in the corner might think, not even caring for the horde of people with cameras outside the large boutique windows.

At that moment he had never felt happier. He chuckled as he pulled you as close to him as humanly possible, and the two of you stood like that until your heartbeats had calmed.

He didn’t want to let you go, so as he sat back down his hand reached out for yours and he smiled wider than he ever had when you took it and gave it a squeeze.

“You’re beautiful” he whispered and he saw you turn red almost instantly, he hoped his words would always have that effect on you.

“And you’re a romantic aren’t you?” You asked and he answered with a shrug.

You looked towards your manager who just gave you a smile and a little nod. As to say; “I understand, just go”

Jake held out his arm, and you quickly went around the counter to grab on to him. He pulled you close as the guards made sure to escort you out of the store safe and sound.

In the store behind the two of you stood Sunghoon with the biggest smile as he looked after the two of you. Sunoo was laughing in a corner as he kept repeating: did that just happen?

Jungwon smiled and said: “Finally, he was getting unbearable”

“So this is where I’m staying” Jake said as he opened the door to his hotel room. The two of you had decided it might be best for you to go there, there was no reason for you to dox yourself.

You looked around the room, but your eyes kept finding him, and every time they did his smile got wider, if that was even possible.

“C-can I see it?” you asked as you took a step closer to him. He nodded and got rid of his jacket before pulling up his sleeve, revealing the now golden words etched into his skin.

You laughed as you let your hand trace the words. Jake shuddered beneath your touch. “Oh I’m sorry, is it too much?” You stepped back to give him space, but he quickly grabbed your wrist, pulling you back to him.

“It’s nice, I’ve been wanting this, waiting for this for so long. My hitching breath and shuddering is in nothing if not from happiness and excitement for having finally found you”

The heat once again flushed to your cheeks, and he, that cheeky bastard, he bit his lips once again. You placed your hands on your face.

“I had an idea you might be a hopeless romantic” You said turning away from his gaze.

He laughed. “Why?”

“When you have ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere’ etched into your skin from the ripe age of 13, you cant help but hope”

He felt how your words fucked on his heartstrings. “Tell me everything”

So you did; you told him how excited you were when you saw the words. How lucky your mother had told you that you would end up being because of the sweet nature of them. How your friends had fawned and been jealous.

“I know it’s not a given, and I know not all soulmates are made to be more than just platonic, but I would love to give this” you said, gesturing between the two of you. “Us a real shot”

Your cheeks were blazing hot, but you wanted to say them. In case he felt differently, you’d rather be disappointed sooner rather than later.

His hand snaked up and rested on the back of your neck, firm enough to make sure you knew he wanted you close, but still loose enough for you to get away from him if that was what you wanted.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours. “I want nothing more” as if he had done it always he rubbed his nose against yours, the gesture so soft and subtle it stole a whimper from your throat.

In that very instant his eyes shot open, pupils dilated, the love he had always felt for you on full display.

“Can I kiss you?” He whisperd. His lips so close to yours he almost did by saying your words.

Instead of answering him, you closed the small gap between the two of you. His other arm snaked around your waist as yours traced his shirt, up his stomache, over his shoulders and around his neck.

You pulled him as close to you as physically possible. And he smiled agains your lips at the way you responded to him.

A knock on the door pulled you from losing your minds, hearts and souls to one another.

“Yo, love birds… wanna grab some lunch? Get to know one another?” Heeseung said on the other side.

The two of you looked at each other and laughed. Jake only raises a brow, and you nodded as a response. You couldn’t wait to get to know him and those closest to him.

Once again he stretched out his arm for you to grab on to and you did without a doubt.

“Let’s go little dove” he said with a wink.

“Wait so I’m the first?” You said with a shocked expression.

Jake had his arm around your shoulder, it felt like his heart would physically break if he were to not touch you when you were so near.

“Yeah, hopefully the rest will come soon…” Jay said with a far away gaze in his eyes.

“You miss her?” You asked him.

“Every waking minute of every day” he answered with a small smile.

Nothing short of pure torture. You thought to yourself and leaned into Jake’s embrace. He kissed the top of your head instinctively.

“God the two of you is gonna be unbearable, aren’t you?” Niki said with a groan as he took another spoon full of the broth standing in front of him.

“Especially when we leave in two days” Jungwon said, trying not to sound to harsh.

The eyes you looked at him with broke his heart. He would have to leave you behind, go on on the tour. He would be in contact sure, but this would end up breaking him and in extension you.

It was common knowledge that the first few weeks, if not months were the hardest to be without your soulmate. It was as if your souls needed one another, after being separated for so long.

“The tour isn’t don’t yet, but I’ll be back as soon as possible. Okay? I promise” Jake said as he pulled you into another close embrace.

Jungwon stole the attention by spitting out his noodles. “Why would she think now is the perfect time for chocolate pudding. I swear it’s her hobby to ruin my meals” he pushed away the bowl, as the guys laughed.

You were thankful for the change in subject, but you couldn’t help but wonder just why the universe would set you up with someone whose job was to travel the world and leave you behind.

“Hey” Sunghoon said, “why dont you just ask if you can bring her along?”

Jake remained quiet as he thought it all through. It was not impossible, he knew that it was impossible to tear some soulmates apart, and Hybe had to accommodate that, but still… you had a life, a job and friends and family. He would hate to pull you from it all.

“Let’s talk about it when we’re alone, how does that sound?” You asked him with a little squeeze of his thigh. The mere sound of your voice calmed something inside of him, and his worried eyed softened.

“As Niki said, unbearable” Heeseung said right before he was snacked in the back of the neck by Sunoo.

“As if you’re gonna be any better than them”

He only shrugged.

“I don't wanna assume you have the possibility of just leaving” Jake said as he fiddled with his fingers. He did want you to come along. He wanted to sleep with you in his arms and wake up to your kisses.

“I don’t think that I do, sure I have a few weeks of vacation left, but it’s just so short notice” you said with a sad smile.

He nodded, “I know… what if I called Prada, or maybe if one of my bosses did?”

You smiled as you stood between his legs as he was sitting on the bed, you pulled lovingly on his long hair as he looked up at you with pleading puppy eyes. God he was beautiful.

Instead of answering you kissed his lips slowly, and his arms pulled you closer. “As much as I would love that, that wouldn’t be fair. Come back to me when you’re done, in the meantime we will just have to figure something out, okay?”

And figure something out you did. Every time you had the chance you were FaceTiming, you fell asleep talking about your childhood, and while he was training you caught up on the hours worth of content.

Hybe had been kind enough to leave you with a bodyguard of your own, but so far you hadn’t needed it. It had, however, calmed Jake’s mind a lot to know you were taken care of.

“When I can’t do it, I need someone else to, okay little dove?” That had been hard to argue with.

He had been gone for a few weeks now and it felt as if your heart had been ripped from your chest, as if you were no longer whole.

You hated every second of it, you hated your stubbornness. Why wouldn’t you take him up on the offer of just going with him? Integrity… fucking pathetic. You thought to yourself as you got the store ready before it opened.

You heard the door open, and as you turned to tell the early customer you weren’t open yet you froze.

“Sunghoon” you said before giving him a bow, you had spent the weeks reading up on Korean etiquette and culture.

He bowed back before he held out an arm just as Jake did. “Come, he’s unbearable and none of us can take it any longer… he needs you” he sent you a smile that never really reached his eyes.

Instead of bolting out the door you found yourself hesitating. You had a life and a job you had worked so hard for. Sunghoon rolled his eyes as he laughed. “Don’t worry about it, we’ve taken care of it”

And for once you chose not to second guess it, and grabbed his arm.

You knocked on the door to the room, despite what the two of you did most days, you had ignored his calls all day. Jungwon had warned you, he had been sulking and sad and as good as impossible to get to do anything. Even eat.

“Go away!” You heard his voice groan from the other side. You knocked again.

“Hee, I’ve told you all day I’m just not in the… mood” he swung the door open without even checking who was on the other side.

In your hand you had a bag of food, he would need something before the concert tonight.

“Surprise?” You said with a unsure smile, cause he only stared at you.

“You’re here?” He said as his voice cracked.

You nodded. “I’m here”

And as he heard your voice once again he broke down in the door to his room, you quickly gave the food to one of the managers in the hall as you joined him where he had collapsed.

He snaked his arms around you as he sobbed into your shoulder. And as painful as it was to see him like this you had also never felt more like yourself now that he was near.

He looked at you as he stroked your cheek. “You can’t leave me again, okay?” He said as he both laughed and sobbed at the same time.

You smiled at his words, as a single tear escaped your eye. He kissed it away as quickly as it had fallen. “I won't,” you whispered.

The two of you heard a groan further down the hall and saw Niki there. “Fucking unbearble love birds” he swore under his breath.

“Language young man!” You both yelled in unison, and a laugh quickly followed.

Neither of you minded being unbearable love birds, as long as you weren’t apart.

Hi! Thank you sm for Reading! Please remember to like and reblog, and let me know if you have any theories about the others or these two sweethearts. Feedback is very much appreciated 🫶🏼

[zuzu-tries-to-write]

Falling for the Act

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Fake Dating, Slow Burn, Romance

(Guys I just started writing this fake dating enemies to lovers trope and I honestly think it’s pretty nice)

Part 1: The Deal

“I’d rather die than date you.”

Bakugo’s voice was sharp, his vermillion eyes burning into yours with pure irritation. You crossed your arms, mirroring his glare.

“Yeah? Well, same here, Dynamite,” you shot back. “But unless you have a better idea, this is our only option.”

It had started out as a simple problem. You were sick and tired of your nosy classmates always prying into your love life—or, rather, your lack of one. Somehow, a rumor had started that you had a massive crush on Todoroki, which was completely false, but no one seemed to believe you. Mina, Uraraka, and even Kaminari wouldn’t shut up about how “cute” you two would be together. And then, just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, Endeavor himself had invited you to dinner, clearly taking an interest in the alleged relationship.

You needed an out. A distraction. A reason for everyone to drop this ridiculous idea.

And unfortunately, the only person you could think of who would definitely kill any rumors of you liking Todoroki was Bakugo.

You weren’t friends. Hell, you could barely stand each other. But that was exactly why this would work. No one in their right mind would believe you had feelings for the most insufferable, hot-headed, loud-mouthed person in Class 1-A. And if you were dating him, no one would push the Todoroki agenda anymore.

“Let me get this straight,” Bakugo said, rubbing his temples as if this entire conversation was giving him a migraine. “You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend just so these extras shut the hell up?”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Yes, exactly. And in return, I’ll do whatever you want.”

That got his attention. Bakugo leaned back against the desk, arms crossed, considering your words. “Anything?”

“Within reason,” you clarified, narrowing your eyes. “I’m not committing murder for you, psycho.”

“Tch.” He scoffed, but the corners of his lips twitched, almost like he was amused.

For a moment, silence stretched between you. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

Finally, Bakugo exhaled sharply through his nose, looking more annoyed than anything. “Fine. But I’m not half-assing this, got it? If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. That means dates, PDA, the whole damn thing.”

You swallowed. The thought of having to actually act like you were in love with Bakugo made your skin heat up. This was supposed to be easy—fake some smiles, hold hands in front of people, and call it a day. But the way he was looking at you now, all serious and intense, made you realize that you may have just gotten yourself into something way more complicated.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “Got it.”

Little did you know, this was the beginning of something neither of you could control.

To be continued…

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Vegeta with fem!reader fluffy headcanons

warnings: fem!reader, established relationship, canon divergence.

Special thanks to @actuallysaiyan for not only encouraging me to write this piece but also providing feedback on the earlier drafts. Enjoy~! :3

divider by @cafekitsune

Vegeta is not the type of person who will proudly proclaim in front of everyone that he loves you. He’s a Saiyan of few words, but his actions? They speak the truth. And his actions definitely show he cares for your wellbeing when he defends your honor. He’s more likely to do that than anything else remotely romantic.

Go easy on this emotionally constipated man, okay? He might not be as expressive as Goku or the other Z Fighters, but he is trying. He lived most of his adolescent and adulthood as a planet pirate under Frieza’s thumb, where any emotion other than obedience was a weakness until he came to Earth and met you.

As much as he is still learning about Earthling customs, it would make his ego swell like a balloon if you asked him about Planet Vegeta and their customs. He could spend hours telling tales of the distant past, such as the roles of a mated pair in the household and how they raised their young. Going off the planet for a mission for the first time? That was a rite of passage. How do Saiyans show affection? Through their tails, hence why losing it is equivalent to mutilation or severe punishment of the worst kind of crime committed by a Saiyan. Other Saiyans could even see as a betrayal.

Vegeta is not proud of the things he has done in the past. But if some higher being offered him the chance to change everything, he probably wouldn’t take it. Not just because he still believes he doesn’t deserve such an opportunity, but erasing the wrongs he committed in the name of Freiza would undoubtedly remove the possibility of ever meeting you through Bulma. He would not have the life he has now, and he will be damned to allow anyone else who was unworthy of being your mate when the Prince of All Saiyans is right here.

The urge to fight runs through his veins, but that doesn’t mean Vegeta wants to be engaged in combat all the time. Believe it or not, the Saiyan would actually like to enjoy some domesticity with you. Whether it’s shopping in the city or just doing your own thing in the same space, he will enjoy it to the fullest. If Goku comes to bug him every day to train when the two of you decide to move to the countryside for work or preference? The chances of Vegeta getting really annoyed with the clown interfering on his quality time with you are pretty high unless it’s an absolute necessary to prevent the destruction of the universe.

You want to train and become stronger? Get ready because Vegeta will not go easy on you at all. Self-defense lessons? Oh, you can definitely be sure that he is going to at least teach a few moves so you can protect yourself when he isn’t around.

Saiyans are hard-wired to be attracted to strong-willed women, so challenging Vegeta mentally or physically will definitely get his blood thrumming in excitement.

He might act annoyed or irritated when you show him affection, but don’t let it bother you too much; Vegeta craves to be loved just like everyone else, even when there are days where he feels like he isn’t worthy of you. As mentioned previously, he’s emotionally inept. But if you show him genuine affection, respect, and honesty, that he deserves to have some good in his life? You will have a loyal, reliable, and incredibly protective Saiyan standing by your side until death comes for either of you.

He may not look like it, but Vegeta remembers the important things you tell him, like certain events coming up or be aware that you might have to work late on certain days of the week.

Regardless of his experience on the battlefield as a fighter and tactician, this man cannot navigate his way through a kitchen, so please do not let him go near the stove unless he’s being supervised, or your home will go up in flames. Seriously, just don’t.

Taglist: @uninhabitedsworld-18 @strangepoppy @nasty-redrum @iimidnightx3 @zvmbieb0y @bdudette @boonsmoon @mythoswarrior-23 @jadeprouductions

[frozenmxngo]

✧*̥˚ In Between the Lines | Choi Beomgyu *̥˚✧

✧ beomgyu x selective mutism fem!reader ✧ part two, word count 12.6k ✧ summary: y/n, a university student with selective mutism, finding solace in solitude. when beomgyu, a curious music student, starts noticing her, their paths cross, and he learns to navigate her silence. ✧ warnings: panic attacks, social anxiety, mute!reader, swearing, angst, verbal abuse, eventual smut, virgin!reader, slow burn?, trauma, fluff, a bit of self-hatred (let me know if i missed anything! i’ll add more tags for each part as needed)

✧ an: so sorry for the delay in getting this part out!! it’s been such a busy week! the next part should be out much sooner than this one. thank you!!

MASTERLIST « previous - next »

Jiwon shifts the car into park but doesn’t move to get out, slumping back in her seat with a dramatic groan.

"I don’t wanna leave—it’s too warm in here."

Y/N glances at her, amused, as she adjusts the scarf wrapped snugly around her neck. Outside, the late fall air is crisp, biting at the windows, but inside the car, the heater hums softly, wrapping them in a comfortable warmth.

Jiwon turns her head, eyeing Y/N’s outfit with clear disapproval. “Are you seriously wearing that?” She gestures at Y/N’s lightweight jacket. “It’s freezing.”

Y/N tugs at her scarf in response, as if to prove a point.

Jiwon scoffs. “Oh, right. A scarf. That’ll totally keep you from freezing to death.” She shakes her head, muttering under her breath. “Not my problem when you get sick.”

Despite her complaints, she doesn’t open the door. Neither does Y/N. The cold can wait. 

Jiwon exhales, watching the windows slowly fog up around the edges. "You know," she muses, stretching her hands toward the vents as if savoring the last bit of warmth, "We could just sit here forever. Never leave. Live off drive-thru coffee and—” she glances at Y/N’s lap, “—whatever snacks you’ve got stashed in your bag.”

Y/N raises a brow, shifting her tote closer like she’s protecting its contents.

Jiwon snorts. “Yeah, okay, maybe not the best long-term plan.” She stares out at the shop’s glowing windows, then groans. “Alright, let’s do this before I change my mind.”

Jiwon finally shuts off the engine with a dramatic sigh, the warm air from the vents fading almost instantly. Shoving the car door open, she’s immediately met with a gust of cold wind, making her pull her coat tighter around herself. "I swear, winter’s creeping up earlier every year," she mutters.

Y/N tucks her chin into her scarf as she follows, her breath visible in the brisk air. Her steps quickened not wanting to be in the cold anymore. The shop's exterior is a little worn, the old wooden sign swinging slightly from the breeze. A warm glow spills out from the large display window, casting a soft light over an assortment of vintage trinkets and aged books.

The moment they step inside, a bell chimes overhead, and the scent of old paper, polished wood, and something vaguely floral greets them. The warmth is instant, a stark contrast to the chilly air outside.

“Oh, this place is so cool,” Jiwon whispers, even though there’s no reason to be quiet. She’s already scanning the shelves, her eyes flicking over each item with barely contained excitement.

Y/N simply nods, her fingers brushing over the spines of a few worn books on a nearby shelf. She likes places like this—quiet, filled with history. Jiwon is already a few steps ahead, eyes darting eagerly over the shelves. “God, I love this. Everything feels like it has a story, you know?” She reaches for an ornate picture frame, tilting it in her hands before wrinkling her nose. “Okay, but some of this stuff definitely looks haunted.” Y/N huffs out a quiet laugh, trailing behind her. Trinkets, books, and vintage furniture are stacked in organized chaos, making it easy to get lost in the maze of shelves and displays.

Jiwon picks up a tiny porcelain cat figurine and grins. “This looks like you.”

Y/N tilts her head, taking in the tiny, wide-eyed cat with its little paws tucked under its chest. She quirks a brow but doesn’t disagree.

Jiwon chuckles and sets it back down before moving deeper into the store. “I’m looking for something cool for my apartment. Help me look.”

Y/N follows, her fingers trailing absentmindedly over an antique jewelry box, the cool metal intricate beneath her touch. Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she pulls it out to see a new message.

Beomgyu: Hope you’re staying warm and safe out there. It’s freezing today Beomgyu: (:

Y/N hesitates, thumb hovering over the screen. She doesn’t know why, but a small smile tugs at her lips. Y/N: I am! I hope you are too?? Jiwon suddenly appears in front of her, grinning as she holds up an old wristwatch with a cracked leather band. "What do you think? Vintage chic or just plain busted?" she asks, spinning it around her finger.

Y/N quickly locks her phone and slips it into her pocket before Jiwon can catch on. She leans in slightly, pretending to inspect the watch with a thoughtful expression, buying herself a moment to dodge the inevitable teasing.

"You could probably get a new strap for it… I think it’s cute," Y/N murmurs to Jiwon. Jiwon smiles softly, nodding as she turns the watch over in her hands. “Yeah, you’re right. A new strap would fix it up.”

She doesn’t comment on Y/N speaking—she never does. The last thing she wants is to make her friend self-conscious. Instead, she just gives a small, approving nod before carefully setting the watch back down.

“Alright, let’s keep looking. I bet there’s something weird and amazing hidden in here somewhere,” Jiwon says, eyes already scanning the shelves with excitement.

Y/N tilts her head slightly as Jiwon sets the watch back down. “Oh… you don’t want it?” she asks quietly.

Jiwon just smiles, giving a small shake of her head before moving on. She does this all the time—picking things up, admiring them for a moment, then setting them aside like she was never interested in the first place.

Y/N follows, tucking her hands into her sleeves. Just before she turns away, her gaze lingers on the watch—just for a moment, as if committing it to memory. It was a cute watch. Jiwon leads the way, weaving through narrow aisles packed with old furniture, faded paintings, and shelves lined with knickknacks from decades past. She picks up a porcelain doll with frizzy hair and exaggerated eyes, turning it toward Y/N with a mischievous grin.

“This thing is definitely haunted,” she says, wiggling it slightly for effect.

Y/N eyes the doll warily before glancing at Jiwon with a raised brow. “Are you going to pick everything up and say it’s haunted?”

Jiwon gasps dramatically and clutches the doll to her chest.“Excuse me, but I have a very keen sixth sense for cursed objects.”

Y/N just shakes her head as Jiwon laughs, setting the doll down before moving toward another display. They pass by a collection of antique cameras, their metal bodies worn but still holding a certain charm. Jiwon snaps an imaginary photo at Y/N with her fingers. "Imagine how many embarrassing pictures these things must've taken," she muses. "Like, someone's great-grandpa probably had a secret stash of goofy photos, and now they’re just... lost in time."

Y/N hums in quiet agreement, her fingers brushing over the wooden frame of an old radio. The dials are rusted, and she wonders if it still works.

Jiwon’s grin turns wicked, eyes glinting with mischief. “Or maybe some sexy ones,” she wiggles her eyebrows.

Y/N’s face immediately turns red, a rush of heat flooding her cheeks. She quickly looks away, trying to shake off the thought. “Don’t be weird,” she mutters under her breath.

Jiwon laughs, clearly enjoying the effect she has on her friend, before moving on to browse more items, leaving Y/N to hide her flustered expression.

Further into the store, Jiwon stops at a glass case of jewelry—tarnished rings, delicate lockets, and brooches adorned with tiny painted portraits. Y/N steps closer, her eyes following Jiwon’s gaze to the delicate items displayed inside the case. She runs her fingers lightly over the glass, admiring the soft glow of the tarnished rings and the intricate designs on the brooches. “They all look so... old,” Y/N says quietly, her voice almost lost in the hum of the store’s ambient noise.

Jiwon chuckles, her fingers tracing the outline of a small locket. “That’s the charm of it. Things have stories, you know? I bet these pieces have been passed down through generations.”

Y/N moves her face closer to the glass, studying the locket Jiwon is eyeing. “Do you think anyone ever knew the stories behind them?”

Jiwon grins, her eyes gleaming. “Maybe some, maybe none. But the mystery is part of the fun.” Y/N smiles faintly, the thought of those small, forgotten moments lingering in her mind. There's something comforting about the idea that these objects once held meaning for someone—somewhere, at some point.

They wander further into the store, where Jiwon suddenly stops in front of a display of vintage lamps. The soft glow from the glass shades catches her attention, and she leans in, inspecting one of the lamps with a thoughtful expression. “I’ve been looking for something like this for my apartment,” she says, running her fingers over the smooth surface. “It’s perfect, don’t you think?”

Y/N nods in agreement, glancing over at the lamp with a soft smile. Jiwon’s taste was always a bit more adventurous than her own, but she could see why this one appealed to her.

The sudden buzz of her phone interrupts her thoughts. She pulls it out, her fingers brushing against the screen as Beomgyu’s message pops up.

Beomgyu: I am! I’m staying inside today. What are your plans?

Y/N types her response quickly, then hits send.

Y/N: Just out with my friend at an antique store

She glances up from her phone to see Jiwon picking up another lamp, her eyes lit up with excitement. Y/N watches her for a moment, a small smile tugging at her lips. Beomgyu: Was her name Jiwon?

He remembers Y/N mentioning her best friend in passing during their chat at the library. He just wanted to confirm. Y/N’s eyes linger on the message, her heart giving a small, unexpected flutter. He remembered. The thought settles warmly in her chest, pulling a soft smile to her lips She doesn’t hesitate this time as she types her reply. Y/N: Yes~! Y/N pauses for a moment, biting her lip as she thinks about what else to say. She wants to keep the conversation going but doesn’t want to overthink it.Y/N: It’s nice to get out of the house for a bit. What about you? What’s your day looking like? Jiwon watches Y/N from the corner of her eye, a soft smile playing on her lips as she notices how at ease she looks while texting. It's subtle, but Jiwon is genuinely happy that her friend is reaching out and talking to people outside of their little circle.

Y/N, oblivious to Jiwon’s quiet approval, glances at her phone one last time before slipping it back into her pocket. She’s not quite sure what to make of the conversation, but there's a warmth in her chest—something she hasn’t felt in a while.

The store feels quieter now, the moment hanging between them. Y/N looks at the lamps again, but the thought of her conversation with Beomgyu lingers in the back of her mind, making her smile faintly. Jiwon picks up a lamp with a light green, smooth glass base that mimics the soft curves of a flower’s stem. The base transitions into a delicate, clear glass shade at the top, shaped like a flared tulip. The edges of the shade are gently kissed with subtle gold accents, giving it a touch of elegance. When the light flickers on, the soft glow illuminates the lamp, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere.

“This is perfect,” Jiwon says, her eyes lighting up as she cradles the lamp carefully. “It’ll look great in my apartment.”

Y/N smiles, admiring how the lamp seems to reflect Jiwon’s style—gentle, refined, and a little whimsical. She watches as Jiwon heads toward the counter to check out, still holding the lamp with a proud grin.

As the two stood at the counter, Jiwon flashed the old woman a quick smile. “One second, please,” she said, before hurrying off toward the area where she’d seen the wristwatch earlier.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flickering around the small store. The old woman behind the counter eyed her for a moment before speaking up with a forced smile. “It’s always nice to see someone appreciate the old things,” she said, trying to break the silence.

Y/N offered a polite nod, not sure what to say, but the old woman’s smile faltered slightly. She cleared her throat, giving a soft sigh as she added, “Not much of a talker, are you?”

The words stung more than Y/N had expected, and she quickly looked away, her face heating up. The old woman seemed to notice the awkwardness but didn’t press further. Instead, she just returned to her task, a quiet tension settling in the air as Y/N waited for Jiwon to return. Jiwon returned moments later, holding the watch in her hands with a pleased grin. She placed it on the counter, making a show of glancing at Y/N with a playful glint in her eyes. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” she said, looking at the old woman. “I’ll take this as well, please.”

The old woman gave a half-smile as she began to ring it up, her eyes flickering over to Y/N one more time before turning her attention back to Jiwon. Y/N could tell the woman was still a little put off by her silence, but Jiwon didn’t seem to notice, lost in her excitement over the watch and lamp.

Y/N stayed quiet, her hands tucked into her sleeves as she watched the exchange. She felt a little out of place, standing there while Jiwon and the old woman spoke, but she didn’t mind. She was used to moments like these, where she just let the world pass by without having to contribute too much.

Jiwon turned to her with a mischievous grin as the woman handed over the bag. “You ready to go?” Her voice was light and warm.

Y/N smiled shyly, nodding her head yes. 

With the watch and lamp safely in a paper bag, Jiwon led the way out of the shop, the doorbell chiming softly as they stepped into the crisp air once again. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine as the cold hit her, the sudden contrast from the warmth of the store. The car, now parked for a while, was freezing inside. The leather seats felt cool and unwelcoming as Y/N slid into the passenger seat, pulling her jacket tighter around herself.

Jiwon climbed in, shivering a little as she started the engine. “Ugh, I need it to be summer right now,” she muttered, rubbing her hands together. She adjusted the heater, and the car began to warm up slowly, the chill gradually easing. After another sigh, Jiwon began to pull out of the parking lot and drive to her apartment. Y/N glanced out the window, watching the city streets blur past them. The warmth of the antique shop had faded quickly, replaced by the biting cold that clung to her even inside the car. She tucked her hands into her sleeves, shivering slightly.

Jiwon shot her a knowing look. "It’s freezing now, huh? We were in there forever." She cranked up the heat, taking her hands off the steering wheel, rubbing her hands together for a few seconds. "You’re gonna love my apartment, it looks way different from last time you’ve seen it. It’s a little messy, but it’s cozy, and I made sure to stock up on snacks for tonight."

Y/N offered a small smile. 

The drive was peaceful, the city lights casting a soft glow through the windshield. The hum of the engine mixed with the occasional murmur of the radio, creating a quiet that felt comfortable rather than empty. By the time they reached Jiwon’s building, the car had finally warmed up, making it even harder to step back into the cold.

The wind nipped at their cheeks as they hurried inside, climbing the stairs to Jiwon’s apartment. It was just as Y/N remembered—scattered books, mismatched throw blankets, and walls covered in photos and art. The space felt lived-in, warm in a way that made it easy to relax. The only difference was the fact that there was more decor scattered around. 

Jiwon placed the bag onto the coffee table before peeling off her coat. "Make yourself at home," she said, already moving toward the kitchen. "You want tea or something?"

Y/N settled onto the couch, letting out a quiet breath. "Tea sounds good."

As Jiwon busied herself in the kitchen, Y/N realized she hadn’t checked her phone since last texting Beomgyu. Fishing it out of her pocket, she glanced at the notifications on her lock screen.

Beomgyu: Probably just hanging out with my roommate, destroying him in video games as usual lol Beomgyu: You got plans after shopping? Beomgyu: Update…  he’s officially the worst. It’s almost too easy

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. She quickly unlocked her phone to type a reply.

Y/N: Loll glad you're having fun humbling him. Y/N: I’m just having a sleepover with Jiwon tonight.

The apartment was calm, the soft clinking of mugs and the distant hum of the kettle filling the space. Jiwon returned from the kitchen, handing Y/N a warm mug before settling onto the couch beside her. “Chamomile tea,” she said, taking a sip of her own. “It felt like the right choice.”

Y/N held the cup between her hands, letting the warmth seep into her fingers. She eyed Jiwon skeptically. “Doesn’t chamomile make you sleepy? I thought we were supposed to stay up all night… This might be a challenge for me, considering I already fall asleep easily.”

Jiwon snorted. “Okay, maybe I didn’t think that through. But hey, at least we’ll be relaxed.”

Before Y/N could respond, her phone buzzed again beside her. She glanced down and saw Beomgyu’s name on the screen.

Beomgyu: Honestly, my roommate might need a few pointers at this rate Beomgyu: What are you guys up to now?

A small smile tugged at her lips once more as she typed back.

Y/N: Just got to Jiwon’s place. Probably picking a movie soon.

As she hit send, she noticed Jiwon watching her over the rim of her mug, a hint of amusement in her eyes.

“You’ve been on your phone a lot,” Jiwon remarked casually, setting her drink down.

Y/N hesitated, then placed her phone beside her. “…It’s just Beomgyu.” Jiwon raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Just Beomgyu?” she echoed, drawing out the word as she set her mug down. “You don’t text anyone back this fast, not even me.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue but quickly shut it, feeling her face warm.

Jiwon gasped, eyes twinkling. “Oh my god. You like talking to him.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Stop.”

“I knew it!” Jiwon clapped her hands together in triumph. “This is so cute. My best friend, texting a cute boy, smiling at her phone…” She sighed dramatically, leaning back against the couch like this was the greatest revelation of the year.

Y/N peeked at her through her fingers, shaking her head, but she couldn’t fight the small smile on her lips. With a sigh, she lowered her hands to her lap and mumbled, “How did you even know he was cute?”

Jiwon grinned. “I do now.”

Y/N’s face burned even hotter as Jiwon burst into laughter.

Jiwon’s laughter finally faded as she took another sip of her tea, though the amused glint in her eyes remained. She nudged Y/N’s foot with her own. “Alright, alright, I’ll back off… for now.”

But just as Y/N started to relax, Jiwon smirked. “But—if you ever need help picking out a cute outfit for a date, I better be the first person you call.” Y/N groaned softly, dropping her head back against the couch. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

Jiwon grinned. “Nope. That’s what best friends are for.” She reached for the remote, flipping through movie options. “Now, before you turn into a puddle of embarrassment, let’s pick a movie. Horror or rom-com?”

Y/N gave her a look. “Those are very different moods.”

Jiwon shrugged. “Yeah, but I could go for either. Something scary to keep us awake, or something ridiculously cheesy so I can make fun of it the whole time.”

Y/N tucked her legs beneath her, glancing at the screen as Jiwon scrolled through the options. “Let’s just pick something already.”

Jiwon smirked. “Impatient, huh? Alright, horror it is.” She clicked on a movie without hesitation. “This one’s supposed to be terrifying. Hope you don’t regret it.”

Y/N pulled a blanket over her lap. “Doubt it.”

As the movie started, the dim lighting in the apartment made the eerie atmosphere even more intense. The occasional sound of the wind outside only added to the effect. For the most part, Y/N stayed quiet, while Jiwon reacted to every tense moment—gasping, groaning, and muttering under her breath when a character made a dumb decision.

Then, a sudden jump scare made them both flinch.

Jiwon immediately grabbed Y/N’s arm, letting out a dramatic gasp. “Okay, I take it back. Maybe we should’ve gone with the cheesy rom-com.”

Y/N shook her head, biting back a smile. 

Jiwon sighed in defeat, but she didn’t let go of Y/N’s arm as she settled back against the couch. “Fine. But if I have nightmares, you’re staying up with me.”

Y/N just nudged her lightly, focusing back on the screen. Despite the lingering tension of the movie, there was something comforting about sitting here like this—warm, safe, and completely at ease.

The library was quiet except for the low murmur of other students working, mixing with the occasional rustle of pages. Beomgyu had been trying to focus on the textbook in front of him, but his mind kept wandering. His eyes kept drifting toward Y/N, who sat across from him, completely engrossed in her reading. She was so calm, her focus unwavering as she flipped through the pages of her textbook.

Beomgyu was usually a strong student in psychology, but tonight he couldn’t concentrate. The steady rhythm of her pen as she highlighted key sections of the text was oddly soothing, and he found himself getting caught up in the way she moved, the way she seemed so perfectly in control of everything.

He shook his head and tried to refocus, but the words on the page started blurring again. It was frustrating. He wasn’t used to being distracted like this.

Finally, after several minutes of futile attempts to concentrate, he let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. He glanced at her again, his curiosity getting the better of him. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, and there was a small, faint smile playing on her lips as she jotted something down in her notebook.

He couldn’t help it—he just had to know.

“Are you struggling with this section too, or is it just me?” Beomgyu asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Instead, she set down her pen, opened her notebook, and quickly scribbled something in her neat handwriting. She slid the notebook across the table toward him without a word.

Beomgyu picked it up, reading the message she’d written.

It’s a bit confusing, but I think the key is focusing on the major theories first. He smiled, grateful for her help. “Yeah, I was getting caught up in all the little details,” he said softly, glancing over at her. She looked up for a moment, meeting his eyes briefly before returning to her work, and Beomgyu couldn’t help but feel a little warmth in his chest. For the next few minutes, he tried to focus again. Beomgyu’s eyes flicked between the multiple-choice questions and Y/N. His pen hovered over the page as his mind wandered. The questions were easy, but it was hard to focus when she was sitting across from him. He could hear his own thoughts growing louder in his head, frustrated at how easily he was being distracted.

Finally, after a long pause, he asked, "What do you think about the multiple-choice questions?"

Y/N didn’t respond with words. Instead, she stood up, her movements smooth and deliberate as she walked over to him and sat down beside him. It would be easier to work on the questions together if they were sitting right next to each other. Beomgyu’s heart skipped a beat at how close she was now. She smelled light and fresh—something faint but calming—and it made it even harder for him to focus. Beomgyu swallowed, trying to ignore the way his heart raced at the proximity. He tried to focus on the homework again, but with Y/N sitting so close now, the words on the page seemed to blur into mush.

After a moment of trying to focus, Beomgyu asked, "What do you think about number five? I keep going back and forth on it.”

Y/N wrote something quickly in her notebook and then slid it over to him. Beomgyu leaned in slightly to read her answer. His breath caught when he realized how close they were—his shoulder brushing hers, their arms almost touching. It made his heart race.

He nodded, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re probably right,” he murmured. “I guess I’m just overthinking it.”

Y/N didn’t reply, but she gave him a small, almost imperceptible smile before returning to her work. Beomgyu couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth in his chest. Something about the way she interacted with him—quiet but still so present.

For a moment, he just watched her, his mind caught between wanting to say something and the sudden wave of nerves that had settled in his stomach. He was usually confident around anyone—he never had trouble striking up conversations—but for some reason, this felt different. His usual confidence was slipping away. The more he tried to think of something to say, the more nervous he felt. He wasn’t sure what had changed, but he was beginning to wonder why he was suddenly acting like this around her.

He opened his mouth, wanting to ask her about the weekend—maybe invite her to grab a bite to eat—but the words didn’t come. He closed his mouth and immediately regretted it, his hand instinctively rubbing the back of his neck.

Just as he was about to chicken out entirely, Y/N wrote something in her notebook and slid it toward him. He blinked at the words she had written. Number six is confusing me... Is it B or C? He was momentarily relieved by the shift in focus. She needed help with a question, not a complicated invitation. He looked over the question, his mind grounding itself in something familiar. “Ah, okay, I see what you’re thinking. It’s C,” he said, pointing to the answer. “You’re probably getting caught up in the wording, but trust me on this one.” Y/N nodded as she wrote a quick “Thanks” and returned her focus to the paper. Beomgyu couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. It was simple, this moment—just helping her out—but it felt oddly… comforting. Even though his nerves were still buzzing under the surface, he was thankful for the small connection. They spent a while in quiet focus, only the sound of pens scratching on paper and the occasional shuffle of pages filling the air. Beomgyu found himself getting more into the homework as they worked together, though his attention still wandered toward Y/N from time to time. Her concentration was captivating; she’d pause every now and then to jot something down in her notebook or glance at him for a brief moment, but she never seemed rushed. There was a calmness about her that made everything feel... easier. Even the homework.

Every so often, Beomgyu would ask her if she was okay with a particular question or if she needed help with anything. Her response would always come in the form of a few words written neatly in her notebook or nodding. They worked well together, silently communicating as they made their way through the pages, and somehow, the time slipped by without either of them noticing.

By the time they finished, Beomgyu leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head with a quiet groan. “Man, that took way longer than I thought,” he muttered, glancing over at Y/N. “I think I might’ve over complicated some of those answers.”

Y/N didn't speak, but she gave a small smile, the kind that didn’t require any words to understand. Beomgyu felt his chest warm at the sight of it, and for a moment, everything just felt… simple. It felt right. They’d been sitting together like this for a while now, the distance between them comfortable, not awkward. It was as if they didn’t need to fill every silence with words—there was something just as meaningful in the quiet.

He looked down at his notebook, fingers tapping on the edge of the page as he tried to gather the courage. His heart still beat a little too fast, his words feeling a little too heavy in his mouth. Normally, Beomgyu didn’t hesitate to ask anyone to hang out, but there was something different about asking Y/N. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Finally, after a beat of silence, he turned to her again, his voice a little less steady than he intended. “Hey,” he started, trying to sound casual, “I was thinking of hanging out with Taehyun this weekend. Would you like to join us? I don’t know, maybe grab something to eat or do something fun? No pressure or anything, just thought it might be nice.”

He immediately regretted the way the words came out. He hadn’t meant to sound so unsure. Beomgyu didn’t get nervous about asking people to hang out, but something about her sitting so close, had him second-guessing himself. His mind was racing. Why did I mention Taehyun? Beomgyu's stomach twisted slightly. He wondered if it might make things awkward, or if the idea of hanging out with two guys might overwhelm her. Maybe she’d feel uncomfortable with a group. He quickly pushed the thoughts aside, not wanting to overthink it. He waited for her response, he glanced at her, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the table. Y/N hesitated, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her notebook. She felt her face flush, warmth spreading through her cheeks as she tried to calm her racing heart. The thought of spending more time with Beomgyu was exciting but also made her self-conscious. After a few seconds of internal debate, she grabbed her notebook and scribbled her answer quickly, trying to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. Her handwriting was a bit messier than usual, the nerves making her pen waver slightly across the paper.

I work until 2 pm on Saturday, but I would like to.

She held her breath for a moment, watching as Beomgyu’s gaze flickered from her words to her face. His eyes softened, and for a brief second, she caught a glimpse of surprise in them. She hadn’t expected him to react that way, but she couldn’t help the small rush of pride that swelled inside her, knowing she’d said yes.

Beomgyu blinked, and for a split second, seemed lost in his own thoughts. Then, his smile broke out—wide and genuine—lighting up his whole face. His voice was almost too eager, a hint of disbelief slipping through. “Really?” His voice was quieter than usual as if he was still absorbing the fact that she’d agreed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to… I’m just glad you’re up for it.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if trying to keep himself from looking too eager, but the light in his eyes gave him away.

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the sight of his smile, the relief and happiness in his expression making her chest tighten in a good way. She hadn’t expected this much joy to come from such a simple exchange. Beomgyu leaned back in his seat, a grin still tugging at the corners of his lips. He felt a strange mix of excitement and disbelief, but it was quickly replaced by a more relaxed, content feeling as he realized she wanted to spend time with him.

"Okay, cool," he said, trying to sound nonchalant but unable to keep the smile from his voice. "We can figure out what to do once you’re free. Taehyun's pretty laid-back, so it’ll be fun."

Y/N’s gaze flickered to the side, her fingers pressing gently against the edge of her notebook, unsure of what to say next. She was still processing the fact that she'd agreed, but she couldn’t deny the fluttering feeling in her chest. It was a strange mix of nerves and anticipation. Being around Beomgyu had become something she looked forward to, even if it was still new and a little overwhelming.

After a few moments of silence, Beomgyu’s voice broke through again. Beomgyu leaned back in his seat once more, his heart still racing. He wanted to make sure he wasn’t overwhelming her, so he quickly asked, “Is it okay if Taehyun comes too? I know I mentioned him but I don’t want to put you on the spot if that’s not what you were expecting.” He glanced over at her, hoping she didn’t feel pressured.

Y/N’s eyes flickered before she returned to her notebook, her fingers lightly grazing the page. She was nervous, but she wanted to try. It was a strange feeling—being overwhelmed but still wanting to make the effort. Y/N quickly wrote down. I’m nervous, but I’d like to meet him.

Beomgyu felt his chest warm at her answer. He noticed the subtle way her shoulders were tense, but there was a quiet determination in her words. He smiled softly, trying to ease her nerves. “I’m really glad you’re up for it,” he said, his voice kind and reassuring. “But if you ever feel overwhelmed, just let me know. We’ll keep things chill, okay?”

Y/N nodded, her face flushed with a mix of nerves and something else—perhaps a hint of excitement. Beomgyu couldn't help but feel a little giddy inside. It made him happy to see her stepping out of her comfort zone, even just a little.

“Alright, then,” he said with a grin, his excitement slipping through. “I’m really looking forward to it. I think Taehyun’s gonna be excited to meet you too.” Y/N paused at his words, her brow furrowing in slight confusion. Taehyun? she thought, her heart suddenly thumping faster. Why would Taehyun be excited to meet me? Did Beomgyu talk to him about me?

She looked up at Beomgyu, her eyes silently asking the question, but she didn’t write anything down this time, unsure of how to phrase it. Beomgyu’s grin faltered slightly when he saw the confusion in her eyes. His own gaze flickered around, trying to avoid meeting hers, his chest tightening under the weight of her quiet stare. He cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant despite the warmth creeping up his neck.

“Oh, uh, Taehyun’s just... been curious, you know?” he said, his words stumbling out a little too quickly. “We hang out a lot, talk a lot more these days, and he’s asked about you. So, uh, I told him a little bit.”

He couldn’t help it. Taehyun was his best friend, and he’d mentioned Y/N to Taehyun more than a few times. But he hadn’t expected to feel this nervous about it.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. He talks about me? The thought made her stomach flutter, her pulse quickening. She wasn’t sure what to make of it—she wasn’t used to being the topic of anyone’s conversations, let alone someone like Beomgyu.

Beomgyu noticed her silence and immediately felt a knot tighten in his stomach. His face reddened, and he tried to salvage the situation. “Not, like, all the time!” he blurted out, looking anywhere but at her. “I mean, just a little. He’s... he’s a curious guy, that’s all.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile faintly. Her heart was still racing, but she found herself oddly touched, even if she wasn’t sure what to think. The idea that Beomgyu had mentioned her to someone else felt strange—but kind of nice at the same time.

Beomgyu shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes dropping to his notebook as if that could distract him from how flustered he felt. “Anyway, he’s cool. I think you two would get along just fine,” he added quickly, eager to change the subject and move on from the awkwardness.

Y/N gave a small nod, her smile softening. She wasn’t sure how she felt about being talked about, but Beomgyu’s easygoing tone and the way he spoke about Taehyun made her think it couldn’t be all that bad. She felt a little more at ease now, even though her heart was still beating a little faster than usual. Beomgyu glanced at the clock on the wall, realizing how late it had gotten. The library had grown quieter as the evening dragged on, the sound of whispered conversations and pages turning gradually fading into silence. He stretched his arms over his head, a quiet yawn escaping as he began gathering his things. “Wanna head out then, it’s getting late,” He asked her. Y/N nodded, then began packing her notebook and pens into her bag, preparing to leave. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze for a moment before turning back to her belongings, her movements deliberate.

Beomgyu stood up and reached for his own things. A small part of him felt reluctant for the night to end. It had been a good study session, and he wasn’t quite ready to leave the comfortable silence they’d shared. Y/N zipped up her bag and stood up, the weight of the evening’s work resting on her shoulders. She wrote in the notes app on her phone, then turned it to show him. I should go. It’s getting late.

Beomgyu nodded, he caught a glimpse of the rain outside—thin sheets of water falling steadily, blurring the outlines of the campus. His heart gave a little tug as he noticed her without an umbrella. He couldn’t just let her walk out there alone, not in the rain.

“Hey, wait,” Beomgyu said quickly, moving next to her now. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

Y/N paused, her brow furrowing just slightly. She hadn’t expected him to offer, but warmth flushed over her cheeks at the thought. She gave him a small, shy nod, then quickly wrote down in her phone then turned it so he could see.

Okay, thanks, I would like that! Beomgyu’s grin widened as he grabbed his umbrella from one of the empty chairs he set it down on.  “Let’s go,” He said softly leading them out of the building. As they walked outside, Beomgyu opened the umbrella with a smooth flick of his wrist. He stepped toward her, holding it over both of them. The sound of their footsteps filled the air as they fell into step together. The air felt cool, with the rain gently pattering against the umbrella above them. The steady rhythm of the rain created a peaceful backdrop, quieting everything and making it feel more intimate.

Beomgyu held the umbrella close to both of them, their shoulders almost brushing as they walked side by side. The rain was light but persistent, soaking the ground and filling the air with a damp, fresh scent. He couldn’t help but notice how close she was now, the soft glow of the streetlamps catching in the raindrops around them. The walk was short, but Beomgyu felt the weight of every step, each one heavier than the last. The steady rhythm of their footsteps seemed to echo between them, yet it was the quiet, unspoken moments that filled the space. He could hear the soft rustle of Y/N’s jacket, the faint shuffle of her footsteps as they perfectly matched his own. Every sound seemed amplified in the silence that stretched between them, making the air feel electric, charged with something unspoken.

The proximity felt different tonight—closer, more intimate, as if the air between them was thicker, more tangible. His mind raced, caught between the thrill of it and the nervous flutter in his chest. It almost felt like too much, but not in a bad way—it felt right, like they were teetering on the edge of something new.

Beomgyu glanced down at her, just as Y/N looked up at him. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and his heart skipped in his chest. Her face flushed faintly, and she quickly turned her gaze away, making him feel both lighter and heavier all at once. His pulse quickened, the nervous energy building between them.

Y/N pulled out her phone again, the soft glow of the screen illuminating her face in the dim light. Beomgyu wondered, for a split second, if she was going to write something. But she hesitated. The silence between them stretched, thick with anticipation. He kept his eyes ahead, giving her the space to decide whether she wanted to talk. His heart beat a little faster, unsure of what to say next.

Finally, Y/N typed something, glancing down at her screen before showing him the message.

Thank you again for walking me to my car, means a lot.

“No problem,” Beomgyu said with a smile, though there was a quiet sincerity in his voice. He didn’t mind at all. “Really, it’s no trouble.”

Y/N nodded, but there was a small pause before she typed again, her fingers moving quickly over the keys.

And thank you for hanging out with me today, I had fun even though we were just studying.

Beomgyu chuckled softly, shaking his head, his heart light. “You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he said with a laugh, his voice a little warmer now. “I like hanging out with you too, Y/N.”

Y/N smiled back, her gaze holding his for a moment, a soft, unspoken understanding passing between them. There was something about the way her eyes softened, the way her lips curled into that quiet smile that made his chest tighten in the best way.

A few more strides, and they were at her car. The moment felt too short, too fleeting. She typed one last message.

Do you want me to drive you to your dorm?

Beomgyu shook his head, the smile never leaving his face. “No, it’s fine. My dorm is a short walk from here, no worries. Just... make it home safely, okay?”

Y/N nodded, unlocking her car. As she slipped into the driver's seat, Beomgyu took a step back, not quite ready for the night to end.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, the words almost lingering in the cool air. “Text me when you get home, so I know you made it, okay?”

Y/N gave him a big smile, nodding enthusiastically before she closed the door. Beomgyu stood there for a moment, watching her, feeling like time had slowed just for them. He stepped back slowly, starting his own walk home with a huge grin on his face. The rain seemed to soften around him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt giddy—lost in thoughts of Y/N, with the sound of raindrops tapping on the pavement filling the silence.

The soft hum of the car’s engine died as Y/N pulled into the driveway, her headlights casting a warm glow on the familiar path to the front door. She turned off the engine, her heart still racing from the walk with Beomgyu, the memory of their quiet closeness lingering in her chest. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel tight, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling in her stomach. She stepped out of the car, and the cool, rainy night air hit her skin. She quickly made her way toward the front door, not wanting to get rained on. The house stood dark and quiet, except for a light glowing faintly from the living room. Her dad had always been a night owl; he liked having his alone time, and nighttime was the best for that. As soon as Y/N stepped inside, she was met with the lingering scent of dinner—something rich, buttery, and warm—curling in the air like a cruel tease. Her stomach twisted at the smell, a stark reminder of how long it had been since she last ate.

She took off her shoes and glanced toward the living room, where her dad was stretching as he got up from the couch. The TV cast a soft glow across the room, the volume low, as if he’d just been waiting for her to come home.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, his voice easy, casual. “You have a good night?”

She nodded, forcing a small smile. “Yeah.” 

“Good,” he said, rubbing his eyes as he stifled a yawn. “I was just about to head to bed. Glad you made it home safe.”

She nodded again, but her mind was elsewhere—on the scent still clinging to the air, making her mouth water. Without another word, she slipped into the kitchen.

The counters were wiped clean, not a single dish left out. The fridge door was cool against her fingers as she pulled it open, scanning the shelves for anything—a plate, a container, something saved for her. But the space where leftovers should be was empty.

Her brows furrowed. She stepped back, inhaling again, and that’s when it hit her. The smell wasn’t just hanging in the air—it was stronger, closer.

She turned slowly, her eyes landing on the trash can. The lid wasn’t fully shut. A faint dread settled in her chest as she reached out, pressing it open with her foot.

There, among crumpled napkins and discarded scraps, was a takeout container, its lid haphazardly resting on top. Inside, untouched food—still neatly packed, barely eaten—mocked her from beneath the dim kitchen light.

Thrown away.

She stared for a moment, her throat tightening. Not forgotten. Tossed out. On purpose.

The quiet of the house pressed in on her, the weight of it settling in her stomach alongside the hunger.

Behind her, her dad’s footsteps padded toward the hallway. “I heard you ate already?” he asked, voice heavy with exhaustion.

She hesitated, fingers curling at her sides, and she gave a quick, tight nod of her head. Her stepmom must have lied to him. She had to be the one who threw the perfectly good food out; her dad would never do such a thing.

“Good.” He patted her shoulder in passing, a brief, absentminded gesture before disappearing down the hall. “Night, kid.”

The words barely registered. Y/N stood there for a moment longer, staring at the discarded meal and the empty fridge.

Swallowing down the tightness in her throat, she turned back to the pantry, opening it with slow, quiet movements. She didn’t want to think too hard about it, didn’t want to let it settle too deep, so she reached for the first thing her fingers brushed against—a granola bar.

Not enough to feel full, but enough to get rid of the ache in her stomach.

Peeling the wrapper open, she took a small bite, barely tasting it as she flicked off the kitchen light and padded toward her room.

The week had flown by. Beomgyu and Y/N had been texting constantly, their conversations stretching longer and longer each day. They found themselves meeting up in the library more often than not. It felt like things were shifting between them, slowly but surely. But today was Saturday—the day she would officially meet Taehyun. She was nervous, but she wanted to do this. Taehyun meant a lot to Beomgyu, and she knew this was important. She just hoped he wouldn’t judge her for not speaking.

As she stepped out of her room, loud chatter broke the silence. The muffled sounds of conversation came from the kitchen. The scent of freshly brewed coffee reached her as she made her way downstairs, her stomach twisting with anticipation. 

Her stepmom, sitting at the kitchen table, was chatting with a friend over coffee. Their voices carried through the hallway, a steady hum of laughter and idle chatter. Y/N hesitated outside the kitchen, taking a deep breath before stepping inside nervously, trying to make herself as invisible as possible.

She opened the fridge, the cool air rushing out to greet her, and began to sift through the contents. Her fingers brushed over the containers of ripe fruit—blueberries, grapes, and blackberries. She pulled out a few pieces of each, letting the sweet scent of the fruit fill her nose. She mainly picked at the blackberries, hoping to avoid the inevitable confrontation. But then, her stepmom’s voice broke through the quiet kitchen air, sharp and cutting through the hum of conversation. “Y/N,” she called, her tone slightly raised, “Come say hi to Mrs. Yoon.”

Y/N didn’t respond, her eyes still focused on the fruit, feeling the familiar discomfort settle into her chest. She just kept chewing, deliberately slow, as she tried to blend into the kitchen’s background. She could almost feel her stepmom’s eyes on her, waiting for a reaction, but Y/N remained still.

There was a long pause before her stepmom spoke again, her voice dripping with condescension. “Honestly, you’ve been so quiet lately. You’d think I raised someone who couldn’t speak at all.” There was a soft, forced chuckle from Mrs. Yoon, her stepmom’s friend, which made Y/N’s stomach tighten.

Mrs. Yoon’s laugh echoed in the kitchen, her voice high-pitched and exaggerated. “Maybe she’s just shy, huh? But surely you could say a word or two. I mean, it’s not like it would hurt.”

Y/N’s grip on the blackberries tightened, and she felt her chest constrict. The words landed like cold, harsh stones, but she didn’t flinch. She wasn’t going to engage. Not this time.

Sensing an opening, her stepmom pressed on, her voice sharpening just a little. “Y/N,” she called, a bit louder now, “Don’t be rude. You're not a little girl anymore; it's polite to talk to our guests.” The words felt like a punch to the gut. Y/N’s breath hitched, but she didn’t look up. She didn’t meet her stepmom’s eyes. She could feel the weight of the silence stretching between them, almost suffocating. But she just chewed another blackberry, her eyes focused on the fruit, hoping the moment would pass. But it wouldn’t, and Y/N knew that. So, with all her strength, she turned around slowly, bowing her head to Mrs. Yoon, not daring to look up at the woman. Her cheeks were flushed red from pure embarrassment. Mrs. Yoon, blissfully unaware of the tension, continued. “You know, Y/N,” she said, her tone dripping with fake sweetness, “You’re so pretty. I’m sure you could talk if you wanted to. It’s probably just a phase, right?”

The words were laced with that same mocking cheerfulness that made Y/N’s skin crawl. Her throat tightened painfully as she felt the heat rise in her chest. Y/N just kept holding the small container of blackberries, pretending that was enough to focus on. "Too old for it to be a phase," Her stepmom said in a sour tone. "We thought it was a phase when she was four... Still hasn’t grown out of it. She's just plain rude now."

The chair scraped softly against the tiled floor as Mrs. Yoon stood up. Y/N quickly grabbed another berry, her fingers trembling just slightly as she moved toward the counter, trying to escape the tension without making it obvious. Mrs. Yoon passed by her, muttering under her breath, but Y/N didn’t look up. “There’s nothing wrong with a little effort, Y/N,” Mrs. Yoon’s voice was cold—her words barely more than a hiss as she passed by.  “You wouldn’t want people to think you’re strange, would you?”

Y/N’s grip tightened on the container, but she didn’t respond. She turned slowly toward the pantry, the sound of her steps muffled on the floor as she opened the door. She grabbed a granola bar, anything to get away from the conversation, anything to fill the emptiness in her stomach without thinking too much about the conversation she couldn’t escape. “This is embarrassing,” her stepmom huffed as she also walked past Y/N into the living room, following Mrs. Yoon. 

With a quick motion, Y/N stuffed the granola bar into her pocket, not bothering to open it. She couldn’t focus on food right now, not when her heart was still pounding in her chest. She placed the container of fruit back into the fridge. Without sparing a glance behind her, she turned and made her way toward the stairs, her steps hurried but quiet, like she was trying to outrun the weight of the moment. As she reached the top, she shut the door to her room, the brief silence offering a small relief from the chaos below. She quickly changed into her work clothes, trying to ignore the nerves still gnawing at her stomach. Her hands were unsteady as she buttoned her shirt, the fabric feeling tight and unfamiliar against her skin. She tried to push down the unease, telling herself it was just the usual anxiety. But today, it felt different—more intense, like everything was building up. She glanced at the clock. She was running out of time. With a deep breath, she quickly finished getting ready, her movements a little more frantic than usual. Y/N quickly grabbed a change of clothes from her closet, her fingers still trembling as she folded them neatly. She added the set to her bag, making sure she wouldn’t forget anything for after work. The tension in her chest hadn't eased, but she tried to focus, heading to the bathroom.

Her reflection stared back at her as she brushed her teeth, the familiar minty taste doing little to calm her nerves. She ran a comb through her hair, the bristles catching slightly, but she didn’t mind. She needed to get going. Maybe once she was out of the house, things would feel a little easier. But as she packed her things and took one last look around the room, the knot in her stomach stayed tight, reminding her that her day was only just beginning.

The clock struck the hour, signaling the end of her shift, and Y/N quickly clocked out, feeling the weight of the long day slip off her shoulders. She quickly changed out of her work uniform and into a simple, comfortable outfit in the bathroom. Once she was done, she stood in front of the mirror, making sure she looked presentable. She kept patting at a flyaway strand of hair, with a huff and it not staying down she decided to pull her phone out. Her fingers trembled as she sent Beomgyu a text. Y/N: Hey! I’m done (: After pressing send, she went back to fixing her hair. The strand was barely noticeable, but it was all Y/N could focus on. She tried to breathe a little deeper, trying to push away the anxiety that had been building all day. The minutes dragged on endlessly until her phone buzzed, Beomgyu's reply lighting up the screen.

Beomgyu: Taehyun wants to cook for us tonight. He loves cooking, so we’ll all be eating at his place instead of going out! Y/N blinked at the message, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She was glad she wouldn’t have to deal with the pressure of picking a place to eat or having to try and order in public in front of them. But the thought of meeting Taehyun still made her stomach twist in knots. She had heard so much about him, and the idea of meeting someone important to Beomgyu—someone who was already a part of his world—made her feel out of place. Still, she couldn’t back out now. Y/N: Sounds good!! I’m excited She got a reply right away. Beomgyu: Me too! You can come here now. I’m already here (: He had sent another text right after with Taehyun’s address. Just like Jiwon, Taehyun lived in a off campus apartment. She gathered her things, slinging her bag over her shoulder before stepping out of the café into the warm afternoon air. The sun hung high in the sky, casting soft golden light over the parking lot. A gentle breeze carried the lingering scent of coffee and pastries as Y/N made her way to her car, her footsteps quiet against the pavement.

She slid into the driver's seat, exhaled slowly, and gripped the wheel for a moment before starting the car. The low hum of the engine filled the cabin, but it did little to settle the nervous energy bubbling inside her.

She pulled out of the driveway and onto the road, her thoughts racing faster than the cars passing by. Would Taehyun like her? Would she embarrass herself? She tried to focus on the drive—the steady rhythm of the traffic lights, the soft murmur of the radio—but the closer she got to Taehyun’s apartment, the harder it became to push away the tightness in her chest.

The drive felt both too short and too long, the minutes stretching endlessly and yet slipping away before she could fully prepare herself. When she finally turned into the apartment complex, her stomach twisted even tighter. The building stood tall and modern, its clean lines and muted tones unfamiliar, almost imposing.

She pulled into an empty parking spot and let out a shaky breath, gripping the steering wheel before forcing herself to move. She adjusted the strap of her bag and stepped out of the car with slow, careful movements. Each step toward Taehyun’s door felt heavier, anxiety pressing against her ribs.

She reached the door, hesitating for a moment before pressing the doorbell. The soft chime rang through the hallway, and Y/N swallowed against the lump in her throat, waiting. The sound of muffled footsteps neared the door, and Y/N instinctively straightened, tightening her grip on her bag. A second later, the door swung open, revealing Beomgyu.

His face instantly lit up at the sight of her, a familiar warmth in his expression that made her chest flutter. “Hey, you made it,” he said with a grin, stepping aside to let her in.

Y/N nodded quickly and stepped over the threshold into the apartment. The scent of something savory filled the air, and the faint sound of a knife chopping against a cutting board echoed from the kitchen.

“Taehyun’s in there,” Beomgyu said, tilting his head toward the kitchen as he shut the door behind her. “He’s been cooking since, like, forever. I think he wants to impress you.”

Y/N’s stomach flipped at the thought, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag. Beomgyu must've noticed, because he nudged her lightly. “Hey, you don’t have to be nervous. Taehyun’s chill, I promise.”

She knew he meant well, but her nerves weren’t so easily soothed. Her hands felt stiff at her sides as she gently kicked off her shoes, then followed Beomgyu further inside. The apartment was cozy, a blend of modern and lived-in. There were books and notebooks stacked on the coffee table, a couple of blankets lazily thrown over the couch, and a few potted plants scattered around. It felt like a space filled with quiet routines and comfort. Before she could dwell on it too long, a voice called out from the kitchen. “You’re just in time.”

Y/N looked up as Taehyun stepped into view, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. He was a little shorter than Beomgyu but carried himself with an easy confidence. His dark eyes studied her for a moment before he offered a small smile. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, his tone calm but not unkind. “Nice to finally meet you.” She swallowed hard as Taehyun looked at her, but for a split second, her mind wandered—his eyes were calm, almost too calm for someone who'd just met her. It made her wonder what it was like to be that comfortable with a stranger. She wished she could be more like that. Taehyun was a familiar face, she’s seen him before with Beomgyu and in their psychology lecture. But she’s only stolen glances at him, she’s never actually taken in his appearance until now. 

Y/N’s heart hammered against her ribs. he bowed her head in greeting, hoping it would be enough. Beomgyu had to mention to Taehyun that I didn’t talk, right? She thought to herself. Taehyun caught the small gesture and offered a soft smile in return—acknowledging her without making things awkward. He knew she didn’t talk, and he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. Beomgyu, on the other hand, flopped onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “Tell me you made enough food for me to eat like a king.”

Taehyun shot him an unimpressed look. “I made enough for three people, which means you’re eating like a normal human being.”

Y/N felt a small, unexpected smile tug at her lips. The dynamic between them was natural like they had their own rhythm, their own inside jokes. She felt like an outsider looking in, but the warmth in the room wasn’t lost on her.

“You can sit,” Taehyun said, nodding toward the couch. “Food’s almost ready.” Y/N hesitated before moving toward the couch, her hands still gripping the strap of her bag like a lifeline. The nerves hadn’t gone away, but as Beomgyu continued to whine about how starving he was and Taehyun expertly ignored him, she felt herself exhale just a little. She set her bag down next to her on the couch, still holding onto the strap for comfort. 

As the rich, spicy aroma of the simmering soup filled the apartment, Beomgyu sprawled beside her, bouncing his knee absentmindedly. The low hum of Taehyun moving around in the kitchen mixed with the occasional clatter of utensils, blending into a comfortable hum of normalcy. Beomgyu stretched his arms above his head before glancing at Y/N. “Was work okay?”

She blinked at him, briefly surprised by the question, before reaching for her phone. It was fine. Pretty busy.

Beomgyu peeked at the screen and nodded. “Yeah, I bet. The café always looks packed when I walk by.” He let his head fall back against the couch. “I’d suck at that job. I’d mess up orders left and right.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her fingers hovering over her phone before she typed, she wanted to tease him a little. Sounds like you’d get fired right away.

Beomgyu gasped, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. “You’re supposed to say, ‘No, Beomgyu, you’d be amazing!’ Where’s the support?”

Her lips twitched, the smallest hint of amusement flickering in her eyes.

Before Beomgyu could continue his fake sulking, Taehyun’s voice carried from the kitchen. “Food’s ready. Come eat.”

Beomgyu immediately shot up. “Finally.” Y/N followed him to the small dining table, where Taehyun was setting down three steaming bowls of soup. The deep red broth swirled with shredded beef, vegetables, and glass noodles, the scent rich with spice. A plate of rice sat in the middle of the table, accompanied by a few small side dishes.

She met Taehyun’s gaze and bowed her head slightly in thanks. He responded with a small nod, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “Eat before Beomgyu devours everything,” Taehyun muttered as he sat down.

Beomgyu scoffed, already reaching for his spoon. “I have some self-control.”

Taehyun raised a brow.

“…Okay, not much. But I have some.” Beomgyu continued on his voice more quiet. 

Y/N quietly took her seat, picking up her spoon and dipping it into the broth. She blew on it gently before taking a small sip, the rich spice coating her tongue in a slow burn. The warmth spread through her chest, grounding her more than she expected. It had been a while since Y/N had enjoyed a meal like this. Lately, she'd been missing dinners at home, often spending so much time away that she only had time for snacks or whatever she could grab at the café where she worked. Cooking at home wasn’t even an option—she knew her stepmom would make a fuss if she tried to prepare even the simplest dish.

Beomgyu let out a satisfied groan, his eyes closing in contentment. “Taehyun, if you don’t open a restaurant someday, I’m reporting you to the authorities.”

Taehyun barely glanced up. “Then I guess I’m a fugitive.”

Beomgyu turned to Y/N as he dramatically scooped another spoonful. “You see how he wastes his potential? Tragic.”

Y/N only shook her head slightly, stirring her soup as the conversation continued. The nerves that had tightened in her chest all day were still there, but they were softer now—fading into the background as she listened to the back-and-forth between them. The warmth of the meal, the easy rhythm of their banter, and the simple comfort of just being there settled something inside her. As the conversation flowed between Beomgyu and Taehyun, Y/N let herself relax, just a little. The attention wasn’t on her, and that was comforting—like she could just exist in the background without pressure. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

That thought barely had time to settle before Taehyun shifted his focus.

“Beomgyu told me you’re studying to be a vet tech,” he said casually, setting his spoon down for a moment.

The words sent a jolt through Y/N, her shoulders tensing instinctively. The weight of his attention made her skin prickle, her pulse quickening.

Beomgyu, completely unaware of the storm brewing in her mind, perked up. “Oh, yeah! She loves animals.”

Y/N's fingers trembled slightly as she reached for her phone. Her thoughts felt tangled, weighed down by the lingering echoes of this morning—her stepmom’s sharp voice, the cruel amusement in her friend’s tone.

You wouldn’t want people to think you’re strange, would you? The thought ran through her head.

She inhaled deeply, pressing the tips of her fingers into her palm beneath the table. Focus. She just needed to focus.

Her phone screen glowed softly as she typed. Yeah. I like animals more than people haha.

Beomgyu let out a chuckle, light and easy. But Taehyun just gave a small nod, eyes steady. “That makes sense. I would also have to agree with that.”

The simple understanding in his tone eased something inside her. Y/N exhaled slowly, her grip loosening on her phone.

Taehyun reached for his glass of water. “Do you have pets?”

Y/N hesitated. The truth sat heavy on her tongue, bitter and familiar. Her stepmom hated animals—hated them simply because Y/N loved them. Just like everything else Y/N cared about, her stepmom dismissed it, resented it, as if her interests existed just to spite her.

Her fingers moved over the screen. No. My stepmom doesn’t like them.

Beomgyu frowned immediately. “That sucks.”

Y/N shrugged, but the lump in her throat didn’t budge.

She pressed her palms together under the table, fingers gently tracing circles on the inside of her wrist, grounding herself. It was a quiet effort to remind herself that she wasn’t at home, wasn’t under the weight of someone’s critical gaze. The sting of her stepmom’s harsh words came back—how she always belittled Y/N’s interests, and dismissed what mattered to her. But here, in this cozy apartment with the comforting scent of food in the air, Y/N tried to push those thoughts away. She wasn’t in that place anymore. She was here, in this moment, and no one was making her feel small or out of place. No one was making her feel small. She could breathe here.

Taehyun didn’t pry any further. Instead, he took another bite of his food and said, “A vet tech, huh? It’s a good career. You’ll always have work.”

The confidence in his tone caught her off guard. No skepticism, no questioning whether she was really capable of it—just an acknowledgment. Beomgyu tapped her arm lightly with his elbow, his grin unwavering. “See? You’re still here, which means Taehyun doesn’t secretly hate you.” He was attempting to make her feel relaxed, somehow. 

Y/N glanced up at Taehyun, who was calmly eating, not offering much reaction. She wasn’t sure if that meant anything, but at least he didn’t seem bothered by her presence.

Taehyun finally looked up, eyeing Beomgyu with mild exasperation. “Why would I hate her?”

Beomgyu shrugged dramatically. “I don’t know, you hate a lot of things.”

Taehyun sighed, shaking his head. “Just finish eating.”

Y/N lowered her gaze to her bowl, her grip on the spoon relaxing. The easy banter between them made the atmosphere feel lighter, even if she wasn’t sure where she fit into it yet. Before taking another spoonful of soup, Y/N glanced up at Beomgyu, only to find him already watching her, a soft smile on his lips. His eyes held a silent reassurance, a quiet praise—his way of telling her that everything was okay. As the meal continued, Y/N reached for her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen. Her anxiety still hummed beneath the surface, but she wanted to try.

Taehyun, do you cook a lot? she typed before sliding the phone toward him.

Taehyun glanced at the screen as he chewed, then swallowed before nodding. “Yeah. I like it.”

Beomgyu jumped in before she could type again. “He’s basically a housewife.”

Taehyun shot him a look. “I enjoy making real food instead of surviving on instant ramen and convenience store snacks, unlike some people.” Y/N cheeks flushed lightly, she also enjoyed those things, especially the convenience store snacks.

Beomgyu waved him off. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”

Y/N’s fingers hesitated over the keyboard before she finished typing, sliding her phone toward Taehyun again. What’s your favorite thing to make?

Taehyun’s brow lifted slightly, but he didn’t seem bothered by the question—in fact, there was something almost appreciative in the way he read it. “Probably kimchi stew. But I like trying new stuff too.”

Beomgyu leaned in with a grin. “Taehyun thinks he’s a master chef.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Y/N watched their exchange, fingers idly tapping against the side of her phone. She wasn’t used to people like this—so at ease with each other, so effortlessly comfortable.

As they finished eating, the conversation drifted into more casual topics—mostly Beomgyu’s over-the-top complaints about his classes and Taehyun’s dry, unimpressed responses. Y/N listened quietly, fingers lightly tapping against the side of her phone once more. The warmth of the meal still lingered in her stomach, grounding her.

She glanced down at her bowl, realizing she had nearly finished everything. The rich, spicy broth had been comforting, and soothing in a way she hadn’t expected. It didn’t erase the weight of the morning, but for a little while, it had helped.

Beomgyu let out a satisfied sigh, leaning back in his chair. “That hit the spot.”

Taehyun hummed, gathering his own bowl. “You say that every time.”

“Because it’s true every time.” Beomgyu turned to Y/N with a grin, nodding toward her empty bowl. “You liked it, right?”

She hesitated for a second before nodding.

Taehyun’s gaze flickered to her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he spoke. “I’m glad,” he said simply, a small, approving smile tugging at his lips. It was brief, but it softened his usual sharp demeanor.

Y/N quickly typed out a message on her phone and slid it toward him.

It was really good. Thank you for making it.

Taehyun read the text, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly before he nodded. “Anytime.”

Beomgyu pushed his bowl aside. “Alright, now that we’re all full, what’s next?”

Taehyun ran a hand through his hair, glancing around the small kitchen before shrugging. “We could just hang out for a while, see where the night takes us. No need to rush anything.”

Y/N tucked her phone into her pocket, feeling the familiar weight of silence settle around her. Her gaze flickered between the two of them, watching as Beomgyu casually leaned back and made himself comfortable, grinning in that easy-going way of his. Taehyun, on the other hand, appeared relaxed, an unspoken warmth to his presence that helped ease her discomfort just a little more.

She couldn’t help but smile faintly, her thoughts quieting for a moment as she took in the scene. It was such a contrast from the tense moments in her own home this morning, the sharpness of her stepmom’s words slowly dulling. For now, here, with Beomgyu and Taehyun, the world felt a little softer. She could breathe a little easier. The three of them eventually cleaned up their dishes placing them in the sink before making their way to the living room. Y/N and Beomgyu sat together on the couch while Taehyun sat on an accent chair across from the pair.

Beomgyu was now recounting a ridiculous story about something that had happened at school, gesturing wildly as he spoke, while Taehyun listened intently, clearly amused. Y/N’s gaze lingered on the two of them, watching as they interacted effortlessly, their conversation flowing as easily as their laughter. 

A small chuckle bubbled up in her chest, and she quickly stifled it, not wanting to interrupt their flow. But she couldn’t help it. The way Beomgyu threw his hands up in exaggerated frustration, the way Taehyun rolled his eyes, his lips quirking up in a barely-there smile. And then it happened—her laugh, soft and unexpected. It caught her off guard, but it slipped out anyway. She hadn’t meant to, but something about the way Beomgyu was speaking, the ridiculousness of his story, just made her chuckle.

Beomgyu stopped mid-sentence, his eyes turning toward her immediately. For a moment, it seemed like time had paused, the room quieting as he looked at her. His expression softened, his lips curving into a warm, genuine smile. There was no teasing, no making a big deal of it—just a simple, kind look that made her feel seen, in the most comfortable way.

She quickly averted her gaze, a blush creeping up her neck and across her cheeks, but the smile didn’t leave her face. It wasn’t that anyone had noticed her laugh—it was that Beomgyu had, and instead of calling attention to it, he simply looked at her with warmth. It made her feel a little more at ease, like she belonged, even in the small, quiet moments.

Taehyun glanced at them both, his expression faintly amused, but he said nothing. The conversation continued, light and easy, and for the first time in a while, Y/N felt like she could just exist in a space without the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her.

As they chatted, laughed, and shared stories, Y/N’s smile lingered. It wasn’t the loud, boisterous kind of laughter that filled the room, but it was real. And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel out of place.

It felt like she was beginning to find her place, little by little, with them. Even without saying a word.

✧ taglist: @brrytears @tubasmiracle @sseishiross

[nowayimbored]

Restless Man

Summary: After 13 years of no contact, Sam comes knocking at your door when you least expect him.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

WC: 2,200

The leaves crunched beneath your shoulders, flattening the grass underneath. The wind jostled the trees above you, leaves floating down, down, down, until they slowly landed around you. The sun was slowly setting, golden hour quickly approaching. The autumn air was crisp and had a bit of a bite to it, but you didn’t mind. Watching the sky change colors, from blue to orange, pink, purple, and red was your favorite thing. 

Sam Winchester was your second favorite thing. You met a long time ago, almost another lifetime it seemed like. He had crashed into your life like a comet, but you had to admit he had perfect timing. You had just lost both of your parents in a car accident. Sam could commiserate with you, his brother had… well, he didn’t say. He just said he was ‘gone’, leading you to believe he was dead, or maybe missing. But he never looked for him. You tried not to dwell on it too much, as Sam never spoke much about him unless he was borderline blackout drunk. 

Sam became your best friend quickly, moving into your spare bedroom soon after you met. Things were mostly platonic, however there was a few times where the lines got a little blurry. You didn’t mind, though, you quite enjoyed it actually. In that year together, you two had grown very close. He would tell you stories that seemed farfetched, but he always retold them soberingly genuine. Stories of monsters, of a huge road trip he was on with his brother, of the end of the world…almost. They just about felt real.

You told your own stories, which were definitely very real. You told him of your family, your past, all of your wishes and hopes for your future. That was the best year of your life. It was so easy, so natural, with Sam. 

The morning he left was like any other that the two of you shared, or so it seemed. Sam would typically run a mile or two right as the sun was rising before hitting the shower, which would be just about the time you’d be getting up. That fateful morning, though, it was quieter. There was no hum of the water pipes, no bare feet padding down the stairs toward the kitchen. At first you thought he had taken a longer run than normal, but in the middle of making breakfast for the two of you, you saw the note.

‘Hey,

I don’t even know how to start this. I’ve been sitting here, staring at the page, trying to find the right words, but nothing feels right. Maybe because there isn’t a right way to say this.  I have to go. And I can’t tell you why. Not because I don’t trust you—I do. More than anyone. But because if I say too much, it could put you in danger. And that’s the last thing I’d ever want.  This past year, you’ve been my rock. You reminded me that there’s more to life than just living out on the road, more than just loss. You gave me something I haven’t had in a long time—peace. And walking away from that? From you? It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I need you to know this isn’t about you. It’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I care too much. I don’t know if or when I’ll be back. I wish I could promise you something—anything—but all I can say is that if there was any other way, I’d take it.  Please take care of yourself. Be safe. Be happy. You deserve that, shorty.

—Sam’

The note. 

You still have the note; you carry it in your bag.

Breakfast was never finished that day. Actually, breakfast was never the same. What used to be your favorite meal of the day was quickly pushed off to the wayside, your eggs slightly less sunny-side up without Sam. To this day, laying on your back in the park on 7th, you still haven’t eaten breakfast. 

It’s been 13 years.

Not much has changed for you in all of the passed time. You still wonder about Sam. After all, they say that if you love something, set it free. Except you kind of felt cheated. 

You didn’t set him free. 

You wished that you had told Sam your feelings before he left. Lord knows you tried; it seems like you called and texted him thousands of times. Not a single message was answered. Voicemail after voicemail was left, the box never giving a ‘full’ warning. All this time later, you wonder if he listened to them before he deleted them. You kept calling, until one day instead of his comforting voice before the beep, you heard a cold robotic voice chant ‘The number you have dialed is not in service. Sorry.” 

Hell, you didn’t even know if you felt the same way after all this time or if it was just the past you were stuck in. Maybe you were stuck on a last-ditch hope that he would come back. 

Maybe that’s why you never moved. 

Darkness was starting to draw closer, the last rays of sunlight nearly snubbed out. Sighing, you slowly sat up, brushing dried leaves from your hair. You felt a few flecks of water splash on your forehead, looking up, grey clouds were looming threateningly. 

You gathered your things, including the umpteenth letter you’d written to Sam but weren’t ever able to send. Fully standing up now, you started on your way home. Thankfully, the walk wasn’t too far. You cut across the corner of the park, making a beeline for the sidewalk as the rain began to fall harder. You started running, the sprinkles soon turning into a cold downpour.

By the time you reached your front porch, you were shaking and drenched by the ice-cold shower. You unlocked your door, slammed it shut to seemingly show the rain who’s boss, relocked it, and kicked your shoes off in one swift motion. 

You raced upstairs to take a warm shower, wash off all of the cold. After your shower, you threw on your favorite pair of sweatpants and a shirt of Sam’s that you found under his bed after he left. It was just one of those nights. You meandered downstairs, toward the kitchen to find something for dinner and a glass of wine.

A faint knock at the door interrupted your path.

You turned and looked at the clock on the wall. You weren’t expecting anyone tonight. Damn it, it was broken, stuck on 2:22. You made a mental note to replace the batteries on your way to the door. You unlocked and opened the door, but nobody was there. You looked to the left, then to the right, before shutting the door. Damn neighborhood kids.

You padded off toward your kitchen again, this time after your junk drawer. A louder knock interrupted you once again. A second time, you headed toward the door, a bit faster this time. You opened the door just a crack and peeked out.

Oh. My. God.

You threw open the door, revealing a wet Sam Winchester. “Sam?” you questioned, before wrapping the lumbering man in a bear hug. You didn’t need an answer to your question, you knew it was him. You clung to his wet Carhartt jacket, the tears flowing off of your cheeks and onto his already damp flannel.

He was older, his grey was starting to show. His hair was longer, but it still had the beautiful shine that was so uniquely…him. He looked war-torn and half beat. He was still the same, though. He smelled the same. The perfect mix of leather, old books, pine, gunpowder and cheap soap. Sam. Your Sam.

“Hey, shorty,” he smiled, hugging you just as tight back and kissing the top of your head. You couldn’t hold back your tears, and neither could he. “Sam…13 years…you…” you managed to stutter out as sobs racked your body. “I know, I’m sorry, I know,” he kept repeating, like his own personal mantra. You took a few deep breaths to compose yourself, then broke the hug to invite him in. 

“You came back?” you questioned. “Of course, I thought about you every day,” he replied. You beamed at him, tears welling up in your eyes again. “Don’t cry, you’ll make me cry!” he exclaimed, wiping away your tears before wiping away his own. You couldn’t help but give a short giggle. 13 years out the window, everything was just like it always had been with him. 

He followed you to your kitchen table, taking a seat as you gestured. You grabbed the bottle of your favorite whiskey down from the shelf above your fridge. “You still drink Bearproof?” he chortled. You rolled your eyes, “Of course! Apparently you still don’t have good taste.” He smiled and shook his head, accepting the short glass filled with ice you offered him. You sat down across from him at the table and reached over to fill his glass with the amber liquid. 

You took a pull from the bottle after filling your own, just something to calm your nerves you told yourself. On the surface, you looked calm, but underneath you felt like you were shaking like a leaf on a twig. You two sat in silence for a while, while it wasn’t awkward, it was heavy. The both of you would sneak glances at each other in between sips of your drinks, pretending to be oblivious to the other’s wandering eyes. Finally, you had had enough.

You topped off each of your glasses for the third or fourth time, it was starting to get hard keeping track. “Sam, riddle me this: why come back after all this time? What if I had moved, or found someone, or…” you trailed off. He dragged his finger around the rim of the glass, seemingly lost in thought. “All these years, I kept tabs on you—” “What?!” you interrupted. “All these years? I called you Sam, thousands of times. I tried tracking you down, I filed a missing person’s report for fucks sake! I wrote you letter after letter after goddamn letter I couldn’t send!”

He remained stoic, his finger still carefully tracing the rim. He sighed, catching you with his puppy dog eyes. “Look, I wish I could tell you the truth, but you won’t believe me.” “Try me,” you retorted. He sighed again and finished off his drink, automatically you refilled it. Sam took the bottle from you and topped up your glass. “You’re gonna need this.” 

Sam told you a story like you had never heard before. By the time he had finished, the bottle of whiskey was gone and instead a bottle of vodka took its place. You took a few minutes, maybe more, to digest everything he told you. It seemed hard to believe, but Sam wasn’t the type to lie.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, you managed to croak out, “I’m sorry about your brother. He seemed like a great man. And…thank you for your sacrifice…for saving the world.” He huffed cynically, “Yeah, sure.” You took a pull from the bottle of vodka before handing it to Sam, who happily accepted. 

The short-lived conversation died off once again, this time leading to peaceful silence. You glanced at the clock, out of habit, but it was still stuck at 2:22. That’s what you needed to do! You slowly got up, joints creaking, head slightly spinning, “Ooh, it always catches up to you when you stand.” 

Sam smiled and stood as well, offering you his hand. You gladly took it, relishing his calloused skin against your soft palm. You staggered over to the junk drawer, stabilizing yourself against the countertop. Sam tottered over and placed his hands on your hips to help support your swaying frame. 

Heat immediately rose to your cheeks. Your mind cleared of all thoughts except for what you’d like to do to him. 

What did you come over here for again?

You closed the drawer quickly, the only thing stopping it from slamming being that the cabinets were soft-closing. You spun around to face Sam, not caring if he saw your blush. “Sam, I have to tell you something.” He raised his eyebrow quizzically. “You…you heard all of my voicemails, didn’t you? Saw all of my texts?” He grinned, then looked down at his socks. “Yeah, yeah. I did.” You nodded once, trying to clear the embarrassment from your brain like an etch-a-sketch. No luck.

“Cool. Yeah, uh, cool. Um… about that…” you trailed off. “I don’t expect you to feel the same way after so long. I know we had a few drunken nights of fun way back when, but we’re different people now.” Different people? What did he mean by that? You thought about asking him, but staring at his face, you could only think of one thing. 

Fuck it.You slammed your lips into his, desperate and wanting. He kissed you back with just as much wanton. Everything felt perfect. No, everything was perfect as long as Sam was back.

[lydiasfalling]

PINS AND NEEDLES

percy jackson x athena!reader

➸✧˖*°࿐ taglist : open!

˗ˋˏ warnings : use of y/n, post breakup, angst, possible part two??? ˎˊ-

‧₊˚✧ lydia’s yap fest ! ✧˚₊‧

post breakup yearning? sign me up. also i’ve never ever written athena reader cause it feels too much like writing myself and i don’t want to project but i hope u guys enjoy!!! (unedited!)

it had been exactly three weeks, two days, and six hours since you and percy jackson had broken up. now, while it pained you to admit, you missed him. your friends would tell you that you couldn’t miss him. not when you had left him the way you did. truth is, life as a demigod was hard. having no guarantees that you would even be alive tomorrow was a hard pill to swallow. it had gotten to a point where it felt wrong to give percy another weight on his back. he was already under the pressure of saving the world, he didn’t need a relationship to balance on it.

first came the arguing. it had become a staple for the recent era of your relationship. you would bring up the idea of taking a break, which he would turn down. he refused to hear you out whatsoever. then came the silent treatment. he couldn’t stand how every time you’d spoken, you would flip it back to the topic of breaking up. he thought better to just ignore the problem all together. finally, came the blow up. you two had found a rare moment of peace amongst the war. his fingered takes through your wet hair as you laid on his lap. you had again decided to bring up the topic again. the resulted in the fight. breaking up wasn’t easy, but something you saw necessary.

now, you paced in your cabin. these past few weeks had been a personal tartarus for you ( and you assumed percy, or he-who-shall-not-be-named ). every little thing reminded you of him. the smell of the lake you’d spend hours swimming in. the fields you would run through hand-in-hand. the bed you would spend hours having—well, you get the point. every corner held a memory. this realization made you want to rip your scalp clean off.

however, no matter how much you would deny it, you were still hopelessly in-love with perseus jackson. watching him from a far made you realize just how lucky you had been to call him yours. the beauty of his soul was one you wish could be captured and put in a jar for everyone to admire. the selfish part of you wanted that jar on your nightstand. you decided now was the time. you would finally leave the comfort of your cabin and venture into the camp. your siblings were sure that you were aware how many times percy had asked them about you. he told them to make sure you got proper care since he couldn’t be the one to do so. you knew he’d be happy to see you getting dressed to leave.

“y/n? you coming?” your sister had asked you. it was just about to be lunch.

“mhm. give me one moment.” the mirror showed you what you had dread seeing. heavy purple bags laid under your eyes. your cheeks seemed hollow. people would argue that you couldn’t be sad since you broke up with him, but they didn’t understand. you and percy were—by definition—joined at the hip. you did everything together. now the color had been drained out of usually exciting things.

“any day now.” you joined your sister at the doorframe, stepping out into the sun. the aroma of camp consumed your senses, putting you at a momentary state of ease. this ended soon as you felt the formalist presence of a certain brunette boy. his aura was contagious. you could feel him radiating half way across the world. however, he was unusually dull. turning around, you finally came face to face with percy.

“i. . . uh. . . hi, ang—y/n. didn’t see ya there.” even in the awkward atmosphere, he still managed to bring your shoulders down and your brows to relax.

“mhm. . .” you didn’t truly speak, scared of what would leave your mouth. you quickly turned back around and began to shuffle away. percy hand caught your wrist in record time.

“can we, ya know, talk? i don’t think i got to say my piece when everything went down.” he kept his hand on your skin, goosebumps trailing up your arm at the feeling. you ripped you arm away as if the touch had burned you.

“now’s not a great time.”

“okay, well, when is a good time?” he shifted on his heels

“sometime. . . other. . . than now?” you said, though it sounded more like a question to both of you.

“what happened?” he questioned, an exasperated look coming over his features.

“what?” you asked.

“to us! what happened to us? i mean. . .fuck, y/n. i was in love with you. scratch that. i am in love with you. and im trying really. really hard to respect your decision. but how can i? how can i walk past you every single day knowing im so beyond in love with i can’t even function? i cant even think about battle anymore. it’s you. you occupy every thought from the moment i wake up to the moment i fall to sleep. it’s painful.”

“it’s for the best.” you whispered.

“bullshit! i think you’re just scared!” his volume increased, causing other campers to turn in your direction.

“lower your voice, percy.” you smiled at everyone, hoping they would stop listening. “like i said, this really isn’t a good time.” you left soon after those words left your mouth, not allowing him any time to protest.

“y/n!” he called after you. you simply pretended not to hear it as you re-entered your cabin, slamming the door behind you.

taglist : @laufeysvalentine @cowboylikemac @lydiascabinsix @raysmayhem-72

my masterlist

[strawberrykidneystone]

star wars/arcane crossover with smuggler!sevika x bounty hunter!reader

a/n: IM REWATCHING ALL OF THE STAR WARS MOVIES AND SERIES GUYS IM NOT OKAY

sevika is a smuggler on paper for silco, who is part of the trade federation

along with being a smuggler, she also takes care of the trade federations dirty work under the radar as to not have the republic track it back to them

she doesn’t necessarily like the separatists, but the republic has taken a much too passive stance in the current war for her to get behind

she was a padawan under master vander until she was cast out from the jedi, who told her she let her emotions guide her too much for her to continue in her teachings

(side note: i feel like she would have a green saber)

which is how she ended up where she is today

you were a bounty hunter and took odd jobs here and there as they came up, but your latest job had you turning over a bounty in tattooine, the dust bowl of the galaxy

nursing a sweet drink after a job well done, you people watched from your little corner booth in an obscure bar that you couldn’t remember the name of

it was a pretty filled place for a midday crowd, other bounty hunters hogging the monitor looking for the catch of the day while others whispered in secret in the booths around you

suddenly, she walked into the bar

you’ve definitely seen her before, a pretty hefty bounty on her head from the republic that no one touched alas the consequences would be grave

still, she was easy on the eyes and you couldn’t help but check her out

she seemed to scan around the bar until she finally made eye contact with you

holding her gaze, you raise a brow as she strutted over to your table, sliding into the booth across from you

looking deep into her grey eyes, you leaned forward on your forearms and took a sip from your straw, pushing the cup away when it was emptied, “to what do i owe the honor of the presence of silco’s lapdog?”

she gave you an unamused look and nodded over to the bartender, who quickly set her signature drink in front of her, “got a proposition for you. you’re one of the best and silco only ones the best for this one. it’s a clean job that pays well. ‘s long as you don’t fuck it up.”

there was a soft whirring that surrounded her, no doubt coming from her infamous mechanical arm that silco had custom made for her to efficiently kill anyone who stood in her way. needless to say, you did not want to be one of those people.

you muller it over, the bartender replacing your drink with a fresh one as sevika tossed a handful of credits his way, “i’m glad my reputation proceeds me, but i’m not getting tangled up in the whole political bullshit that’s going on out there.”

sevika thoughtfully sipped her drink and sat back with her arms crossed, “we’re making a deal with your old friend ekko, figured it would go smoother with a familiar face.”

ekko? that was a name you hadn’t heard in a while. it would be nice to see him again, you hadn’t heard from him since he had moved to the outer rim

you took the drink in front of you and chugged it down, stalling the glass down on the table and holding out your hand, “you got a deal.”

she shook your hand with a firm grip and walked to the exit of the bar, a million eyes following her as she did

you suavely got up and followed her, saluting the bartender before pushing through the cloth covering the doorway

maybe when this was over, you could negotiate a new ship since the last one you had blew up in an intense chase

a/n: JINX AS A SITH AND VI AS A JEDI??? GUYS I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT THIS

[soaps-mohawk]

So, is Price jealous or something?🤔 He was acting kinda off at the end of the chapter. He mad at reader for going feral with Simon or coming to him last?

Nope!! He was being a tease paired with him really wanting the reader to rest but she was being insistent. So he kind of just said if you want it so badly, put in the work.

No jealousy here lol. Just him being a tease paired with a worried alpha 😂

[angelfic]

— A BOY WHO’S JACKED AND KIND

jason todd x reader summary: you trick jason into participating in a certain tiktok trend a/n: a little drabble because I’ve been doomscrolling on tiktok and jason is most definitely jacked and kind and I need him desperately

You can tell that Jason is getting more annoyed by the second. He can’t continue reading his book for longer than five minutes at a time before glancing up at you from across the room with a curious frown. You move around the kitchen fixing yourself an iced coffee while absentmindedly scrolling through your phone and occasionally letting out a laugh or smiling.

By the sixth time you let out a snort, Jason decided he’s had enough and shuts his book, flinging it onto the coffee table before walking over to join you in the kitchen. “What’s making you smile that isn’t me, babe?”

“Huh?” You pull your eyes away from your phone to see Jason attempting a casual pose, leaning against the refrigerator, but he’s borderline pouting. You bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing at him and shake your head. “It’s nothing, just some videos.”

“What kind of videos?” he asks quietly, reaching out to start playing with a strand of your hair that’s escaped your claw clip as if by reflex. He’s still frowning slightly and you roll your eyes, deciding to put him out of his misery.

“Just a cute TikTok trend,” you explain, pulling one of the videos up as Jason peers at your phone eagerly. “See, you get your boyfriend to see if he can pick you up and put you on his shoulder. Some of them are really cute, but look, there’s some who can’t hack it.”

Jason nods slowly in revelation, still engrossed in the rest of the video that’s currently playing before he huffs and shakes his head. “How the hell is that guy struggling? Easy work,” he mumbles.

You’re about to tell him that not everyone has that Red Hood strength on their side before a plan starts forming in your head. Suppressing a smirk, you glance up at him and raise your eyebrows. “Oh yeah? You think you could do it better?”

Jason looks at you with a blank expression. “Was that a joke, or…?”

“I know you’re strong,” you say, shrugging as you nonchalantly take a sip of your coffee, turning away to hide your grin as you walk over to the living room. Jason is hot on your heels as expected. “I just don’t think you could do this as easily as you think.”

“Let’s go,” he says, clapping his hands together. You slowly turn around and tilt your head in questioning. “Let’s make the video, c’mon.”

Hook, line and sinker.

“Alright,” you sigh, setting down your coffee to prop your phone up against it. You pull up the app. “If you insist. Do you want your face in it or should we do it facing backwards?”

“I’ll just cover my face with my hand,” he waves you off, rocking on his heels impatiently. “I only need one of ‘em to lift you.”

He says it so matter-of-fact, and the knowledge that he’s not actually trying to boast has your mouth going dry. It doesn’t help that he’s now shucking off his hoodie and wearing a short-sleeve black t-shirt. His biceps flex as he flings the hoodie onto the couch and you resist the urge to forget about the video and pounce on him. Just for a second.

Clearing your throat, you busy yourself with pressing record and turning a timer on to allow you to step back towards Jason.

“Moment of truth,” you say, challenging him with your doubtful expression and he merely smirks. “Try not to pull any muscles.”

Jason snorts and goes to cover his face with one of his hands, the other already seeking out your waist.

“Wait, not yet!” you remove his arm to place it back at his side and he peeks through his other hand to let you see him rolling his eyes. When the timer is done, you allow yourself to grin, unrestrained and count to 3 in your head. “Okay, go.”

Before the audio has even played halfway through, Jason bends down slightly to factor in your height compared to his and his one large hand grips your hip to lift you off the ground. It feels effortless as he settles you on his shoulder, steady as a rock and you yelp, not expecting him to be that quick.

The rest of the video is you squealing as Jason unexpectedly spins you around in a circle, his one hand gripping your thigh as the other still covers his face. “Jay!” you shriek, looping your arms around his neck to steady yourself. The only reason you’re unsteady is because Jason’s shoulders are shaking with silent laughter.

The video stops recording when the audio ends and you tell Jason as much, making him drop the hand covering his face to grin up at you. He raises an eyebrow as if to say ‘I told you so’, before flexing his free arm for dramatic effect.

“See?” he says, rubbing small circles on your thigh with his thumb and talking up at you with all the ease of talking to you as if you were on the ground in front of him. “What did I say? Easy work, babe.”

“Big show off,” you say, wrinkling your nose at him as you begin to slide down his body. You go slowly, considering the man is basically a human skyscraper and he seems to take advantage of the fact, hands shamelessly roaming up your legs and your sides. He hooks your legs over his own waist, making you cling to him like a koala.

“Can I help you?” you ask, squinting at him when he doesn’t say anything, choosing to just stare at your face instead, drinking you in. You break his concentration by leaning in to press a short, sweet kiss onto his lips that he chases when you pull away. “Earth to Jason?”

“Y’know, I’d be more inclined to participate in your stupid TikTok trends if they all end like this,” Jason mutters, running his nose along your jaw and down your neck before nestling his face there. He doesn’t initiate anything, simply wanting to bask in the comfort of your skin.

You grin at the successful ending to your grand plan, disentangling yourself from your boyfriend to jump down, ignoring his groans of protest.

You run to your phone to save the video to your drafts - no one else needs to see how good Jason’s arms look in a tight black tee - and pull up your folder of couple TikToks. “Oh, well, if you’re finally offering,” you start saying, circling Jason’s wrist with your hand and pulling him onto the couch. He sighs, previously sweet smile being replaced by something skeptical. “I have a whole bunch of ideas.”

“This feels like a set-up.”

© angelfic 2024.

[screampied]

࣪₊ 𐙚 YOU SAY IT'S BIG BUT U TAKE IT ?! ★

gojo, nanami, toji, sukuna, geto. you come home struck by a love curse and need their help on "recovering" from the after effects. (anon req)

𐚁̸ wc. 3.8k

𐚁̸ warnings. fem! reader, feral reader, love pollen/curse, unprotected, sukuna has two dicks, dirty talk, p in v, oral (f + m receiving), squırting, biting, spanks, dumbification, overstim, brēeding, premature ejaculatıon, mdni.

☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN

“wha— you’re clingier than usual,” the curse grumbles as you burst through the door. you’re panting steadily. he was almost shirtless with his usual kimono that’s exposing his abs. rickety arms of yours wrap around his waist before you drop right down onto your knees. with a raised eyebrow, he huffs. “eh. should i even ask.”

“no,” you reply within a second. your voice inwas nothing but a pure trembly tune. your body . . it felt hot all over, some stupid pollen or whatever it was was responsible for your feral state. you were even smelling the definition of the word too. you were grateful he didn’t ask, alas instead—he crosses all of his arms before glancing down at you. pawing at his boxers to fall down, it comes down slowly. the wait was killing you as you glance at his huge hardened bulge preparing to be exposed. oh, you’re already drooling. you needed sukuna so bad, your thighs were already quaking. the air surrounding you both suddenly felt scorching and the minuscule goosebumps that reside amongst your skin felt even hotter. “i- i need a taste, ‘kuna. please.”

he hums in amusement. “oh? don’t let me stop you then, horny girl,” and an oversized hand grips onto the crown of your head. with a nod, he views as your eyes light up at the now hefty sight of his two flashy dicks. with a groan—he shudders once he gapes at your tongue and how it licks against the one near the front. “mhm, you little . . minx. good, take it then. enjoy your precious meal.”

sukuna’s in love with your mouth—with your tongue, you’re so sloppy and you just can’t help it.

running your sweet tongue along both areas of his dicks—every part, the base, the length, and even the sensitive frenulum—he groans loudly. it’s an almost roar that echoes through his chambers. both of his dicks which were visibly stacked amongst each other. one was in front while the other was in back. each were the same amounts of thick and broad. thickset and fucking heavy, you bob your head down against the first one until he shoots raw into your mouth within just a few minutes. “fuck, easy, e-easy,” he stammers, feeling you snake a hand against his neglected cock to stroke it, fondling with his heavyset balls.

hearing sukuna stutter does something to you. you couldn’t exactly describe it, but you wanted to hear more of it. his head tilts back slightly as his lips purse, preparing to click his tongue. “ugh, can’t handle you when you suck that good,” and he grabs you by the hair, making you return his lascivious gaze. “look at you. jus’ a cock drunken mess. got m-me,” and he deeply exhales. sukuna chokes on his own words, barely even able to finish his sentence.

you took so much out of him in such little time. truth be told, maybe this love curse whatever it was, was a good thing. spit races down both sides of your mouth as you happily keep his shaft warm into your tight throat. his cum was a lot, a bittery taste of his own lingers on your tongue before he cock taps against the roof of your mouth. if it wasn’t for you doing a simple trick with your fingers, you’d have gag. you wanted more, lathering your tongue against his tip with no shame—you then reach a hand down to play with your pulsing clit.

“mphm.” you mumble inaudibly, feeling him start to push your head further down. a chaffing smile goes against your mouth and he scoffs. you’re making him feel things. things he didn’t even know he could feel. sukuna’s cold heart significantly flutters at the sight of you. it flutters simply at how good you make him feel. it’s a feeling he didn’t want to stop. at least not yet.

“god, ‘m gonna cum again,” he inhales before exhaling lowly. as he does so, his chest collapses back in from his sigh before he’s now facefucking you. the curse’s thigh taps and clenches, muscles creating a flexion within the nerves stored inside before he sees you drooling for more. as the bobbing of your head’s tempo increases, he groans before making you stare dead into his eyes with a simple grip. “nasty girl. comin’ home just to slobber on my dick, look at that f-face, fuuuuck,” and the moment you end up making him cum for about the umpteenth time of the night, he’s embarrassed. face flushed, you’re switching between his dicks to give them both equal amounts of love before he moves you off from sucking him. “brat,” he glares, grabbing your chin as a few sloshing spurts of cum pour down your chin. sukuna then leans in to kiss you, his tongue tweaks against your lips and he tastes own arousal with no shame at all. shame never exists for a man like him—a cursed being like him. you moan, feeling a fang of his gently bite into your bottom lip before he pulls away. in a low, shaky tone, he grumbles. “wipe that smile off your face, woman. this isn’t o-over.”

☆ NANAMI KENTO

“my love?” nanami hoarsely pulls down the newspaper he was reading from his face. the glimmer of the g-shock he wore that wraps around his wrist ricochets against the chandelier hanging above the two of you. eyeing you closely, he leans back against his wooden rocking chair. “how was work? your boss take it easy on you today?”

“kento,” you breathe, getting right on his lap. you’re met with those same gentle fawn irises that’s captured your heart within an instant. a hand of his gently strokes against your waist before he watches you speak in such a needy way. “touch me— please, i want you so bad.”

nanami chortles lowly. “aw, i want you too honey.”

“no . . like, i want you,” and he sees how you’re glancing back at him with feral, blown pupils. nanami could tell how needy you were just from your tone and body language alone. he could never say no to you, his beloved wife. nanami knew you, and most importantly, he knew every inch of your body like the back of his hand . .

the moment he’s got you laid on your back, everything’s lost. it’s as if time comes to an abrupt stop. the moment you feel his thick cock ease it’s way into your cunt, you immensely swallow him whole. “so warm ‘n snug,” he whispers, bringing his lips toward your face to pepper various kisses against your skin. he’s so gentle with you, he always was. he cups your chin before giving you a deep kiss to distract you from the brief tang of you clamping onto him. “how . . do you feel? is this okay—?”

his low voice was so smooth—leisurely, he’s rocking his hips against you before he playfully nibbles near your chin. a hand of his intertwined with your fingers as he waits for your sweet response. “i- i feel hot,” you moan, throwing your arms around him. “more please, ‘ken. makes me throb when you touch me.”

nanami chuckles, a quick piston of his hips and your legs wrap around his slim waist. his cologne swarms around your nostrils before you whine again. you sound so pretty—melodious, each moan that escapes out of you sounds like a harmony within each lewdly musical moment that passes. “so the curse makes you more sensitive for me?” he coos against your neck, another free hand of his rubbing against your tummy. you’re just laid back, taking every appetizing inch of him and your eyes roll and roll to the very backs of your cranium. “my sweet girl,” and his voice—you could get off to it, you were already profusely pulsing from his deeply through strokes regardless. “i’ll touch every inch of this perfect body if it ‘cures’ you, mhm.”

his touch makes you more sensitive though. nanami was sensual, taking his time with you. his pace was not to fast or too slow. just right . .

his fat cock slowly jackhammers itself into you, irregular breaths sounding more and more jagged. as he’s talking you through it against the shell of your ear, you dig your fingertips into his back. as you run a hand down, you feel a tiny mole print against his skin. “kento, r- right there, riiiight there,” and you’re keeping the entirety of his waist hostage with your ankles. “cum in me, your cum’s gonna save me i think . . s-so, please.”

“you say such silly things sometimes, my sweet,” he whispers against your neck, giving it a long suck. you moan from his tongue flicking against the new mark he created before he’s quickening his hips just a tad bit. the bed creaks and sings, it’s as if it’s making a new mixtape with its noises. “but alright, if my baby wants me to fill her up so she can feel better, i’ll do that,” and before he shoots into you—he grabs your chin. “ah, but look at me though,” and he’s panting heavily, sepia-colored strands sticking against the sheet of sweat that goes against his forehead. “look at me. look into my eyes, wifey,” and he sneaks a kiss onto your trembling lips. thrusting into you at brimming speed, he groans. “atta girl, there she is,” he purrs at you, a thumb brushing against your quivering bottom lip. he looked at you as if he loved you, nanami was sweet but a secret filthy man at heart. only for you though. “wanna see that pretty face. think ‘m gonna give you a baby or two while ‘m at it, my love. f-fuck.”

☆ GOJO SATORU

“girl—could be a little nicer y’know,” gojo grumbles as you lightly flick him against his back onto the plump mattress. you were always no match for his unprovoked sass. with a teasing pout, he’s staring right back up at you as you straddle his chin. grabbing a fistful of his hair, you inch your pooling warm entrance against his face. “how do you even get struck by a ‘love’ curse anyway? thought that only happens in fan fiction, heh.”

“just shut up,” you moan, hovering over your boyfriend’s face. he was so pretty — just gawking at him alone had you going more feral. gojo’s eyes, they were always so ethereal looking. a bright blueish cerulean—almost a viridescent green with how it reflects against the bedroom light. “f-fuck, i want you to taste it so bad, ‘toru. want you.”

with an impish smile, he slides the side of your panties aside. “soooo, what are ya waitin’ for? let me eat this ‘curse’ out of you, angel.”

and the moment you plant your sopping wet cunt against his face, he’s ultimately determined to do so. gojo was a messy eater. it was really no denying it. you’re swiping your slick heat against his nose like a credit card and he eats it up everytime. drool pours from the corners of his mouth as he’s gripping your thighs with both hands. doughy padded thumbs of his pierce into your skin as you’re rutting against his face in rapturing pleasure. “like that baby, f-fuck.”

“go on—praise me some more,” he giggles, warm breath fanning against your entrance. your stomach caves and seizes in and out as you’re still moving all around. it doesn’t take long before your legs start to quaver. “call me a good boy, yeah.”

as much as you wanted to eye roll in the most dramatic way, you couldn’t.

you’ve got a firm grip into his white, snowy strands before giving it a solid yank. “g- good boy, ‘s good for me, ‘toru. think your tongue is working,” and your voice was so soft, its delivery was almost a mere whisper. gojo’s sucking against your clit, casually making out with it in such a sloppy way that’s he’s imitating a french kiss. you continuously pulse into his mouth, feeling him breath through his nose before he spanks your sensitive entrance. as he does such a thing, a splash of your own arousal goes onto his face. teasingly, he sticks out his tongue to lick it clean. “f-fuck.” you whine, and he starts to feel himself get hard. not from you calling him a good boy, but the view itself.

the view of you, riding his face, straddling him in such a sexy way makes him feel a raging hard on in his boxers.

oh, the way you were maintaining such eye contact.

so sensual, you use his face for your own pleasure, hearing your heartbeat arise at a more quick through your ears. the sharp edges of gojo’s teeth nibble playfully against your thighs before you whimper once he prods a lengthy finger inside. he’s located your g-spot just like that, immediately moaning aloud before his digit curls up into your gummy walls. “fuck, you’re so hot when you pull my hair, ‘s no fair,” and as you’re whimpering loudly, chewing on the skin of your arm—you end up finishing after a while.

the moment you do, you end up squirting a bit. it comes out in a tiny trickle—gojo’s face lights up as you’re struggling to keep your thighs open for him but he spreads them further apart for you anyway. “shit,” he exhales with a cunning grin, that smug expression you oh so desperately wanted to wipe off. “i didn’t know my girl was a squirter. maybe you should get struck by that love curse again,” and he licks against your pussy for a final time before spanking your folds. “let’s do that again. wanna get you real soaked tonight. i always like my girls messy.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO

“no way you woke me up just so i could fuck you.” toji deadpans, bringing a hand towards the hair that sticks against his chest, scratching it for four long seconds. two arched brows of his curl into a furrow before he grunts. “i was havin’ a good ass dream too.”

“toji i’m gonna die,” you protest, tugging at his boxers. “i searched up the symptoms a- and it said that if i don’t do anything um— sexual related, ‘m gonna die within four hours.”

“oh boo,” he rolls his eyes, and you moan once you feel the roughness of his palm squeeze against your ass. toji pulls you close to him, so close that you could feel the heat of his body radiate against your own. so close that you could smell his natural manly scent. the strong manly musk, his scent alone had you throbbing right inside of your laced little panties. in a groggy voice, toji leans in to suck against your neck, earning out a mewling whimper from you. “fine, but don’t be surprised if i don’t let ya cum. my dream was really fuckin’ good.”

knowing toji—he was probably dreaming about being a millionaire, but anyway . .

he happily helps with your little issue by fucking you thoroughly into the sheets. harp hips of his penetrate into you again and again. you whine, bratty cacophonous whimpers spew out of your lips as you cling onto the milky, pale sheets. it’s probably been hours, the entire room has a candied aroma of pure desire and intimacy. toji groans as your cunt clamps against him tightly. two scarred hands of grab ahold of your waist before pressing it deeper against him. “mhm, ‘s it workin’ baby? needed a good fuck, baby?”

“y- yes,” you moan, strands of hair almost blinding your eyesight by how it continues to get in your face from the quick paced movement. skin against skin—skin tight. everything felt heavenly. toji’s husky pitched groans only makes you throb even more before he leans right up closer against your ass. “harder, fuck me, ‘toji. pleaseplease. make me cum.”

with his own heavy huffs of breath escaping, he gets all the way up close before raising a foot to press down against your head.

a shrieking gasp comes out of you at the angle. he’s buried so deep now that your pussy stings and smacks from his sack. his hefty sack that hangs. kissing his teeth, toji rolls his eyes back from how good you squeeze around him before groaning once more. “goddamn, y’er a little slut. wakin’ me up for dick, ‘oughta edge the shit out of ya,” and he grabs a nice amount of your hair, making you raise up. the soft, delicate wool of his sock still glides against your skin and you moan from his rude, overzealous tempo. “yeah? should the baby girl cum, or nah. personally, i‘d say no. you were bein’ a brat. 'love curse' my ass.”

you try to sit up but he only pushes you back down, your face smushed against your fluffed out pillow.

“nuh uh, sit the fuck back down,” he snarls, swatting a soft palm against your ass. you’re so close—you moan again as he deepens his hits. his rhythm that was once so decent was now sloppy and merciless. toji’s fat mushroom tip thwacks and thwacks against your clit so much that you could feel it’s delicious curve. it’s a tickling sensation if anything—but the last thing you were doing was laughing. as he tightens his grip a bit, resuming to rock his hips into you, he purrs against your ear in a throaty chuckle. “heh, oh so you can’t speak now? thought ya wanted me to go harder?”

“i- i do,” you try to explain, but it only forms into a sweet meaningless babble. “fuuuuck, ‘s good but take your foot off me, toji. your sock is um.. wet.”

“your sock is um wet,” he mocks you before lowering his foot. you cringe as he pitches his voice—you don’t even sound like that. as he’s still having you arched over, watching as you then hide your face into the crook of your elbow. with a final smack against your ass, he pulls out before letting off an offended, tch. “ungrateful ass.”

☆ GETO SUGURU

“rough day?” geto slyly smiles, watching you struggle to walk into his room. he locks his phone to get a good look at you. you’re heaving insane amounts of breaths, pant after pant squeezing out of your full lungs as if you’d just got down with a marathon. “aw, let me guess. that love curse again? baby, you really gotta stop gettin’ yourself in these positions. it’s silly.”

“suguru,” you whine, collapsing right into his lap. the way you flop onto him was so cute—you’re met with a smug grin and dark, inky eyes that’s taking in all of your features. always so pretty. he smells so good, it’s driving you crazy. “wanna ride you.”

“you always ride me,” he strokes your chin, staring into your eyes lovingly. his hair was pinned into a unkempt yet attractive ponytail. geto gingerly wraps a hand around your throat before whispering against your lips. “so it is that lust curse again, isn’t it? careful. startin’ to think you’re doing this on purpose just to ride me, pretty girl.”

it works every time though—because within minutes later, you’re riding geto on the plump sofa. he was trying to multitask, trying to send an important email but your hips always snapped him back to reality. eventually, his phone slips out of his hand. geto groans at the way your rhythm’s got him in such a chokehold. you’re unhinged, playing with your tits right in front of him that he can’t help but feel against your soft mounds himself.

“s-shit,” he hisses, your body forever an image embedded in his mind that he couldn’t erase. your pussy squelches against his cock and you feel him reach such deep angles all at once. his girth was enough to make your mouth salivate with slippery saliva. mouthwatering, the upward curve of geto’s dick has you going stupid, you’re whining constantly before you lightly shove him back against the cushioned furniture. “slow down, you’re gonna make me c-cum quick, baby, goddamn.”

perhaps your hips alone were the enemy all along, you’re barely giving him a chance to breathe and it turns him onever more. how feral you were—he could see how blown and needy your pupils were. as you wrap your arms around him, still jerking your hips forward, you pull him into a deep, passionate kiss. geto groans right into your mouth, it’s guttural. playfully, you twirl a finger around his hair as you’re fucking him. geto’s hand placement was against your hips, long pretty lashes fluttering every few seconds before he gasps. “baby,” he huffs, a slippery strand of spit leaving your lips as he tugs away. with half-lidded eyes and a flushed face, he moans again, yet this time it’s louder, a bit more pitchy. “i’m gonna c- cum, shit your hips is gonna kill me.“

“don’t waste it p- please,” you plead into his ear, the soft breaths of your voice that exit from your throat makes his dick twitch inside you. you’re still grinding against him, the tempo was so speedy that it gives geto whiplash. he was truly witnessing his life flash before his eyes—all thanks to your precious pussy, featuring your crazed hips. he hardly doesn’t know where to roam his hands—but they remain glued to your waist, attempting to guide you closer. “inside, sugu. spill it ‘n me, make a mess.”

groaning—his head tosses itself back in rapture as he falls into his lewd, anticipated embrace. he’s feeling hot and warm just like you. the warmth your pussy provided him makes him bite his lip.

“fuck, fuck, f-fuuuuck,” he swears once you suddenly pick your hips back up. after a few seconds once you gradually slow down—he’s shooting a warm load of cum into you. so gooey, it fills you to the brim and you slow down finally, still swaying against him to make sure it’s fully plugged full. it pours into you all at once, a whopping amount of seed that’s so much that it oozes between the crevices of your thighs. you rode geto so good that he doesn’t even notice the sofa had ended up collapsing. the sound was short and concise—he’s moaning once you wrap a hand around his throat, feeling the vibrations of his grunts go against your fingertips. “phew,” he swallows, still dumping a good amount of ropy amounts inside before he goes limp against the couch. geto still has your hips in place before he’s gasping for short collected breaths. with glossy eyes, he notices your needy smug grin, not showing one ounce of fatigue. “again, huh? fuck, let me catch my breath first baby, you’re fuckin’ dangerous.”