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frenchkisstheabyss · 9 months ago

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♡ Softer, Softest ♡

♡ Pairing: mafia!boss!san x stripper!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: smut/angst/fluff

♡ Summary: A fun night of stripping takes a turn when an encounter with a particularly unpleasant customer leaves you in tears, running to your boss seeking comfort and protection. Both things he’s more than willing to give.

♡ Word Count: 3.6k-ish

♡ Warnings: explores themes of body insecurities, reader has her arm grabbed (nothing violent but brutal violence against the person who grabbed it), mentions of blood/injuries (not yours, babes), kissing, heavy body worship, san’s obsessed with you, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), clit sucking, nipple pinching, a lil manhandling, hair pulling, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, low key mirror sex, pet names (baby, pretty).

♡ A/N: Hello my loves, I wrote this little fic for any of my chubby darlings out there who might not know or might need reminding that their bodies are gorgeous, worth loving, and desirable. I also really love myself a hot criminal and who better than San? K, let me shut up now. Just know I love you. Your body’s amazing. Never forget that ❤️

Midnight. Friday. The back alley of a strip club. The best in town. The strip club, not the alley. It’s a dark, starless night. The smell of fresh rain hangs in the air, the aftermath of a sudden downpour that left the ground slick with rain. Music from inside the club bleeds through the cracks of a heavy steel door. A neon red EXIT sign hangs overhead. The door creaks on its hinges as it swings open, sending the music blaring out into the night and with it comes a body. The blur of one at first, flying through the air, and then the weight of it. The heavy thud of bruised flesh and cracked bone colliding with the asphalt.

The man on the ground is unremarkable, nothing about him worth noting except the mangled nose that gushes blood down his face, leaking into the cavernous gash that is his busted lip. He said the wrong thing to the wrong person and now he can’t speak at all, only mumble. A brushed leather Dolce and Gabbana shoe collides with his cheek. His blood splashes scarlet against the pitch black soles, a horrible crack emitting from his jaw as more pressure’s applied. Now this man? He’s remarkable. He’s muscular, defined in every way so that, even through his black dress shirt, you can read the broadness of his shoulders. His features are sharp and intense. The kind you either fall for or fall victim to. There’s no in between. He’s a handsome devil but a devil all the same.

“You look like shit” San sighs, effortlessly kicking the man onto his back. He rolls his sleeves up, kneeling beside the man like a hunter inspecting its fallen prey. He stares down at him, emotionless, void of anything close to that thing we call remorse.

The man heaves in a breath of air before coughing it back out. “Mmm s-s-sorry” he croaks, “I didn’t know she was anyone fucking special.”

San grips the man’s face, grinning in a way that isn’t the least bit friendly. He squeezes tightly, forcing jagged teeth to press into the soft flesh of the man’s cheeks. “Well now you do.”

This is your boss and you, tucked away safe and warm in his office, are something special. But a part of you knew this already. You downplay it when the other girls point it out. You pretend not to notice the clear signs of favoritism but they’re there in even the smallest interaction between the two of you. Since day one San’s been your protector, your admirer. You’ve denied it a million times, convincing yourself you’re simply making more of things than what’s there. Still, after everything happened you couldn’t fathom running into the arms of anyone else.

You were dancing like any other night—working your section and getting your tips—when some asshole grabbed you by the arm, demanding your presence in one of the private rooms. Usually you could count on security to drag him out but on weekends the club gets packed and things slip through the cracks. Sadly tonight you were one of them so, like a proper lady, you told him to kiss your ass and sent the tip of your stiletto crashing into his balls. You might be a stripper but that doesn’t mean you’re some thing that men can treat however they wish. It’s a lesson he had to learn the hard way and you were happy to teach it to him. Two shots past drunk and embarrassed by your rejection he snapped, spewing the most vile things you’ve ever heard about yourself—about your body.

It isn’t news to you that you’re one of the bigger girls here. San says that’s what makes you special, why customers come in to blow a check on you and you alone. He’s right, your bank account says so. The customers love you, they eat up every inch of your plush body. By all means you should feel like the baddest bitch in this building, simply because you are, but in that moment his words had reduced you to nothing. A few seconds ago you were twirling around the pole like a goddess now you found yourself scurrying back to the dressing room with tears in your eyes.

At least that’s where you intended to go. Somewhere along the way you changed course, riding the velvet lined elevator to the third floor where San’s office sits at the end of a long hallway. At the time you hadn’t considered how much this might escalate the situation because, quite honestly, you didn’t care. More than feeling hurt, you were pissed the fuck off. Your tears were of anger and, whether you felt it at the time or not, you wanted that motherfucker to pay for it.

This place you work at. There’s more to it than what’s on the surface. It’s easy to get so distracted by the luxury and the lights and the pretty girls dancing that you miss the truth of it all. In fact, that’s the point, but you know a mafia front when you see one. You aren’t oblivious. You know what this is, who San is, and maybe that’s exactly why you were tapping at his door. A damsel in distress in black lace lingerie.

San’s heart dropped when he saw his favorite girl in tears. He stopped everything, sending his men away so he could place all of his focus on you. Resting his jacket over your shoulders, he gently cradled your cheeks, brushing the tears away to ask quite simply, “Who did it?”

You explained everything, how that asshole grabbed you and the things he said, and San’s anger grew quietly, simmering beneath a surface of calm. He took a seat at his desk, setting you down comfortably in his lap, and pulled up the security cameras. “Tell me when you see him, okay, baby?” he instructed sweetly, his palm massaging the smoothness of your thigh.

You nodded, struggling to focus on the screen with his hand on your thigh and him calling you “baby”. San touching you wasn’t a rare occasion but it was always something light. A hand on the small of your back or fingertips grazing your arm. Never this purposeful—this intimate. You couldn’t help imagining how it might feel if he gripped a little harder, moved a little higher. You felt your heart begin to race, your temperature rising the longer you sat there in his lap.

“That’s him” you sniffled, spotting that familiar face on the screen. San studied the screen a moment before turning back to you. “I’ll take care of it” he promised, his hand riding your thigh and coming to rest at the gentle curve of your hip. “And no more crying, baby. You’re too pretty to cry.” Too pretty to cry? Oh, but you were crying, absolutely weeping, only between your thighs this time.

San disappeared from the office, leaving you too lost in the lingering haze of his touch to even think about your insecurities, but that only lasted so long. Alone in the quiet of his office, the self doubt began to creep back in. You tried to distract yourself by exploring your surroundings—the impressive collection of vintage whiskey, the gorgeously framed art hanging from the walls—but nothing could distract you from how uncomfortable you’d become in your own skin. It didn’t help that the office was lined with mirrors, reflecting glimpses of your figure with every turn.

At last out of distractions, you turn to face the mirrored image of yourself, letting San’s jacket slip to the floor. You strike a pose, a half hearted copy of something cute you might do on stage, and watch the way the fat of your body squishes together here or there. You strike another then another then another but they’re there in every pose. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs. Your weight shows in all of them. Pinching your lower belly you think of how the other girls have had work done. Maybe if you got some done yourself…

“I left him out back. Clean him up before someone sees” San says, pushing through the door, his phone pressed to his ear.

You jump a bit at his arrival, scrambling to grab the jacket, but San slips in behind you, closing his arms around your waist before you can retrieve your safety blanket. You tense at first but find yourself settling into his embrace as if it’s the most natural place for you to be.

“So, what was that?” he asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breath tickles your neck as he inhales your perfume and the sweet scent of honey and jasmine fills his lungs. You smell as beautiful as you are, as beautiful as everything about you is.

“How’d everything go?” you press, quick to change the subject. Noticing a series of tiny red scrapes on the knuckles of his right hand, you carefully take it into yours, assessing the damage.

San shrugs it off like it’s nothing. It still stings but it’s far from the worst pain he’s ever felt. “I said I’d take care of it. It’s been taken care of.”

You giggle at the contrast of something so menacing being spoken by someone so regal. “San, you make it sound like you killed him.”

He leans into your neck, his lips grazing your skin on their way up to your ear. You shiver at the contact and his hold on you tightens, your bodies pressed flush against each other so that you can feel his bulge pressed into the plush of your ass.

“Killed him? Almost” he whispers, “I answered your question so it’s only fair you answer mine, isn’t it? What were you doing? I came in and you were…” San pinches your belly, his fingertips planting adoration where there was once doubt.

“I…uh…I was…” you stutter, searching your brain for a believable lie but you can’t find a single one.“There’s this doctor, a few of the girls have gone to him to get some work done, and I was just thinking, I don’t know, maybe...why am I even telling you this? You don’t care and anyway, it’s silly.”

“It is silly” he agrees, notes of that quiet, controlled anger you witnessed earlier resurfacing, “But you’re wrong to say that I don’t care. I care about how you feel about yourself, I care about you. You must know that.”

“I mean, I know you care about me. You care about all of the girls” you say, hesitant to accept this as a profession of anything in particular.

San spins you around, pinning you between the warmth of his body and the cool mahogany of the desk. “I don’t care for any other woman the way I do you.”

There it is, a profession of something very particular. He’d hoped that you’d seen it by now. He wonders if he didn’t do a good enough job of showing you. It’s been so long before you, years even, that he had feelings like this for anyone. The world he operates in doesn’t allow for soft spots. Soft spots are how you make mistakes and when mistakes are life or death you can’t afford to make them but he couldn’t help himself with you. You caught his eye the day you walked in for your audition and you’re all he’s been able to see since. You’re so delicate, so beautiful, a perfect contrast to the toughness of his life. It’s why he protects you—why he always will.

“Your body…” he says, his palms racing up and down your curves, “It’s perfect. There’s nothing about it that needs fixing. If you let that doctor touch you I’ll break both of his hands.” San’s gaze is heavy with lust, months of longing just begging to be satisfied. It burns him up inside, sets fire to his very being, and being kissed by the flames of that need is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

“Is that the way you romance women? With threats of violence?” you tease, draping your arms across his shoulders.

“Sometimes but usually it’s like this” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours. His tongue parts your lips, twining around yours to deepen the kiss. His movements are careful and deliberate. The kiss intoxicatingly slow.

San grabs you by the hips, lifting you onto the desk and you let out a little squeak of surprise as he sets you down. “You’re so fucking cute” he grins, spreading your thighs to fit perfectly between them.

“You think so?” you say so innocently it only makes him want to ravage you more.

Tangling his fingers in your hair, he tilts your head to look back at the mirror, “Don’t you?”

An unexpected wetness soaks the lace of your panties at the sight of your shared reflection. Nothing has changed about your body. It’s the same one you were picking apart, the same one you were doubting, and San loves everything about it. He praises it with his hands, with his fingertips, with whispered confessions of everything your body needs to hear.

”I watch you sometimes when you’re dancing” he says, effortlessly doing away with your bra, “I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help myself when you look the way you do. It’s like you’ve put a spell on me. My little witch.”

San captures one of your breasts, kneading the plump flesh in the palm of his hand. He pinches your bud between his fingers, tugging at it just enough to make your breath catch in your throat.

“But I don’t have any magic” you whimper, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. They pop open one by one, revealing a body that had to be sculpted by some divine feminine deity. You push the fabric away, your fingertips delighting in the perfection of her creation.

San’s free hand reaches between you, stroking your clit through your panties. He groans at how soaked you are, your juices leaking through the lace to coat his fingers in your juices. “You do have magic, baby” he whispers, tucking your panties to the side, “It’s right here.”

“Aah, Sannie” you moan, your hands sliding down his abs as his fingers stretch you open.

Your body falls back, a sharp chill coursing through you as your bare back hits the desk. San sinks his fingers deeper into your core, his cock stiffening at the sight of your body moving as hypnotically as it does on the pole. Only now it’s for him and only him. This is how San likes it, how he’s always wanted it to be. Him with his fingers buried deep into the warmth of your pussy, your walls greedily clenching around them, and you spread out across his desk, your gorgeous body on full display and your lips spilling out moans meant for his ears alone.

Kneeling between your legs he pulls your panties aside harder this time, nearly tearing the fabric as he knots it in his fist. He brings his thumb to your clit, toying with it just to see how your body twitches with every touch. “How can a girl be this perfect?” he says, nearly salivating, “Even your pussy’s gorgeous.” There’s an audible wet sound, another sweet whimper escaping your throat, as his fingers slip out of your core and his tongue takes its place.

“San, wait…” you beg, grabbing at his hair, but you’re too late. Your attempt at pacing yourself is useless. His tongue’s already filling the space between your walls, wiggling and curling against your sweet spot. His dark hair knots around your fingers, your hips raising to ride every wave his tongue sends washing over you.

San drags his tongue up through your petal soft folds, swirling it around your clit before diving into you again. He suckles at your clit, gently at first then faster, more ravenous. His gaze flicks up to you, taking in the way your belly jiggles and your breasts bounce. He’s drunk on your juices, already addicted to the way you coat his tongue. You taste like heaven and look like it too. It takes all of the self control he has to pry his mouth free of your pussy, snatching your panties down as he does.

Standing back up, he grips your thighs, spreading you open to watch the arousal drip from your pussy, leaving pretty little drops on his desk. Your eyes are glued to him as he unzips his pants, letting his cock fall right between your legs. The swollen tip throbs against your lower belly, leaking precum, warm and sticky, on your skin. You rock your hips, clenching around air, craving friction from that deliciously veiny cock of his.

“You want it, baby?” San teases, tapping the head of his cock against your clit. His length slips between your folds. They’re so smooth, so slick. Toying with your pussy’s like splashing in a lake. You’re wet enough to drown in.

“I want it, Sannie, aah, fuck…” you moan, your eyes widening at the realization that his tip’s pressed to your entrance now, stretching you the faintest bit.

“Then tell me how perfect your body is. Tell me you love it.” He pushes in an inch more, stopping to leave your hole spread wide around his cock, still needy and deprived.

The stretch has the room spinning, a single taste of him already making you want more. “My body’s, mmph, beautiful” you manage as he gradually feeds you more of him, “I love it.”

“Don’t stop. Keep telling me. Make me believe you” San demands, thrusting into you so hard that he bottoms out.

You cry out at the force of the thrust, your lashes fluttering away tears, “I love, aah, my body. I love my body. It’s beautiful. It’s…it’s…”

Tucking his hands behind your knees, San pushes them to your chest, snapping his hips against you hard enough that your thighs jiggle around him. All of you does. Every stroke of his cock makes you tremble and he’s hardly able to keep still himself. You’re so tightly wound around his cock that he can feel all the finer details of your walls. They’re glued to him, sucking him in every time he even thinks about pulling back.

Through heavy lids you watch the man you’ve only ever known to be a mountain crumble to pieces all because of you. San’s muscles are slick with sweat and a glossy haze dances over his eyes. His fingers are digging into your thighs, completely devouring them. He does what he can to swallow his moans but it’s impossible when you’re making him feel like his entire soul’s being snatched from his body.

“You feel so fucking good” he grunts, planting breathless kisses up your leg, “Come here.”

San props your ankles up on his shoulders, hooking an arm around you and sitting you up so that you’re close enough to kiss. He grinds against your sweet spot, forcing his tongue down your throat so that every moan you set free echoes between his cheeks. Gripping the back of your neck, he slams into you, harder, faster, forcing your body to give into him. He fucks you until your eyes are rolling back, your mind too blank to recall anything that happened before this moment. There’s no thought of the incident, no thought of your insecurities. High on euphoria, your body feels beautiful, every inch of it.

“S-San…” you whine, a familiar pressure building behind your belly. Your fingers begin to tingle as they cling to his muscles, searching for any stability they can reach.

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he coos, not letting up on you, not even for a second.

Pulling his arm away he lets you fall back on the desk. With one hand cupping your breast and the other circling your clit, he watches you fall apart in the palms of his hands. For so long he’s had to watch you from afar, pretending that he wasn’t utterly obsessed with you, but now you’re all his. His pretty, moaning, teary eyed girl pouring your cum down his cock while you repeat his name like it’s the only word you know. He’s so singularly focused on watching you hit your high that his own takes him by surprise.

Grabbing him by the wrist, you lock eyes, a weak smile forming on your lips. “Fill me up, Sannie” you whisper, your voice sexy even in its brokenness.

San’s body shudders and you feel a new fullness inside of you. The warmth pools deep within you at first, cascading down your walls the more he empties himself into you. “Fuck, baby” he pants, catching himself before his body doubles over. He came so hard his ears are ringing and holding onto you is all he can do not to fall. You sit up to stroke his cheek and he kisses your wrist lovingly. You stare into each other’s eyes for a minute that lasts an eternity, letting yourselves get lost in one another’s gaze.

San breaks the trance with a kiss, holding you like one would the most precious thing they own. “Tell me, baby, how do you feel now?”

You contemplate his question, your attention drifting back to the reflection in the mirror. It’s all there. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs, and San looking at you like you’re the prettiest girl in the world. You turn back to him with a smile, “Beautiful.”

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felixbit · 11 months ago

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what friends do

pairing: felix x gn!reader w. 2.1k genre: fluff, a bit of angst and suggestive content summary: at some point a few months ago, felix kissed you for the first time. you didn't mean to catch feelings, but the lazy make-out sessions on his couch were melting your heart. warnings: swearing a/n: this is a fic i wrote on ao3 almost a year ago for @ppiri-bahng! i just wanted to post it on here. unlikely for a part 2 but enjoy :)

At some point a few months ago, Felix kissed you for the first time.

You'd been friends for years up to this point. You met him not long before his debut, so you're his day one. There was always something about the way you interacted with each other that felt so right, and it's why you became such close friends so fast. You spent all the time in the world together, and you'd spend every moment of every day with him, if you could. Felix had agreed with you once that you were soulmates. He was the best friend you'd ever had.

There was nearly nothing you didn't tell or do with Felix. He knew all of your secrets, little facts about you, every person in your life that was significant to you, and it was reciprocated on your end. You two knew each other like the back of your hand, and it felt as if nothing could ever separate you. There was nothing you wouldn't do for Felix, and there was nothing he wouldn't do for you.

So, when he asked if he could kiss you, you said yes.

"Hey."

Your eyes opened, previously closed as your head was slumped onto Felix's shoulder. The television in front of you had some romantic comedy movie on, but you weren't nearly awake enough to know what it was about. You moved your head off of the boy next to you and looked over at him, his chocolate eyes returning your gaze. "Yeah?"

"Would you kiss me?" Felix let his words out nonchalantly, which you struggled to tell if it was the byproduct of his exhaustion or if it was his attitude towards the question in general. His eyes never left yours, so you assumed there was some care behind it.

You shrugged. "Uhh, I don't see why not. Why, do you wanna kiss me or something?" The thought of kissing Felix hadn't really crossed your mind, aside from the few times you stared at his lips a little too long and wondered how soft they were. But really, you'd never thought that way of him.

"I might." Felix pursed his lips and stared at you, which you almost immediately picked up on what he was doing. The look in his eyes and his expression was one you'd seen a million times before, it what was Felix did when he wanted something. You'd usually see it in the context of him wanting some food or to go out, but the look never changed.

Your eyebrows furrowed a little bit, wondering his intentions. Felix never liked you in that way, at least that's what he claimed. "Is this just a totally platonic thing between friends? Why do you want me to kiss you?"

"I just.." Felix trailed off for a moment, tapping his finger on his leg, "I want to kiss you because I miss kissing. The few times I've done it, it was always so nice and fun.. and I thought you'd be chill with it. It's not a romantic thing for me. It's just something I've wanted to do for a while, but I get it if you don't want to."

"No, no.. I get it. If it's not changing anything between us, I don't really see why not. Kissing is fun."

Felix smiled and nodded softly. He let out a sigh of relief and put his arm around your shoulder. "Can I kiss you now?"

"Yeah."

That's where it started. The first time you put your hand on his chest and your lips collided, his hands finding their way to cupping your cheek and the back of your neck, pulling you in close. When you first found out that you were right, his lips were as soft as they seemed. An assortment of little pecks turns slower and into deeper, longer kisses that are more drawn out and intimate. You didn't expect him to kiss you for that long, but you didn't mind. He was a good kisser, which he occupied you with for three minutes the first time around.

Every time the two of you broke apart for little gasps of air, he'd give you these smiles that would break you. Something made kissing him so fun and easy, so addicting and great. The way your hand rose and fell as it stayed planted on his chest made your heart flutter a little. Fuck, wait. No, that's a little too much. A little weird.

Then, it kept happening.

You'd be sitting around in the dorm kitchen, cooking up a meal, and a pair of arms would surround your waist. You'd look down, seeing skinny arms covered in freckles, and smile. Felix needed kisses. You'd tell him to leave you be, that you had to pay attention to your food, but his little pecks on your neck and cheek got you hooked. You'd end up with food burning as you were pressed into the kitchen counter, giving slow, sloppy kisses to Felix for far too long. When he finally let you go, he'd apologize for burning your food and take you out to eat.

Then it was movie night again. Then it was in his room. Then your room.

Felix turned out to love kissing a lot more than you expected. Almost any time you were alone together turned into a lazy make out session. You'd learned the ins and outs of what he liked, how your mouths fit together just right, how eager he was to add tongue, or how he'd always smile into the kiss when you wrapped your arms around his waist or put your hand on his chest.

Every time you'd pull away from him, finally stopping, you'd often end up laying your head on his chest and your head felt fuzzy. Your brain hadn't felt like this before, which was utterly confusing. This was your best friend, but every time you made out with him, your stomach would pull flips and feel like you had butterflies. But, in your head, he was just a friend.

Was he?

You sat on Felix's bed, scrolling your Twitter feed and turning your brain off to the real world. The room was nice and just cold enough for you to be wearing one of Felix's sweaters, which was your favorite. He'd always let you borrow them when it was cold in the house, and they smelled like him. They smelled like home, always taking you to a safe space mentally and cooling your anxiety for a bit.

Peering past your phone, you tuned back in to hear angry phrases coming out of Felix as he sat at his desk. Watching Felix play games was funny, since he never seemed to improve much at them. He always got mad when he lost, and overjoyed when he won. It was obvious he was playing a losing game, and it would be over shortly. You watched on, picking up more about how the game worked, as he gave up and the game ended. He threw his arms up in exasperation, standing up from his desk.

"You okay?" You knew he wouldn't ever really be upset over a game, not in a true way. Though, you always liked to ask so he could vent his frustrations and feel better faster.

"Yeah, fuck, it's just-" Felix let out a long sigh, covering his face with his hands, "I hate playing this game. I always end up losing a bad game and I'm in a bad mood for a while. I don't even know why I play it."

"Awh, 'lix," You opened your arms, "Come here."

Felix walked over slowly to the bed, slumping his body into yours and burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your heart tensed, a warm feeling shooting through your body as you wrapped your arms around him and held him close. He let out soft murmurs, speaking angrily under his breath in an unintelligible way that you couldn't make out what he was saying.

You rubbed his back softly in silence until he finally sat up on his own, looking at you. You met his eyes, entranced in his beauty for a few moments before you looked at his expression. Your eyebrows furrowed. "Felix.."

"Please?"

Fuck. Felix's smooth, deep voice always won you over. As soon as he pleaded with you, you folded for him. Your mouth pursed as you tried to fight off a smile, looking away as you took a deep sigh. "Okay, fine."

Felix smiled giddily and let out a small noise of excitement, which hit you in the gut again. You leaned back against the wall behind you, legs dangling over the short side of the bed as Felix climbed onto your lap. You reached up and brushed a bit of hair out of his face, which he smiled at. Your heart wasn't dealing well with this. Before you could keep thinking, he pressed his lips against yours and you were taken into a mind-numbing state of bliss.

Your arms stayed firmly wrapped around his waist to keep him secure as his hands stayed planted on your neck and cheek. Your kisses were always perfectly slow and tender, Felix never liking to rush through it. The way his lips dragged almost lazily over yours drove you crazy, but you took it at his pace, as much as you'd like to go faster.

At least he was a crazy good kisser. You could never get bored of kissing him, even if you had to spend an hour doing it. You just might, as your longest kissing session went for half an hour with only two small breaks in it. Making out with Felix could take up all your time, and you'd be okay with it. As much as you hated how much you liked kissing him, it was true.

So when he finally pulled away from you a few minutes later, you felt a tensing in your gut. Your lips formed a thin line as you looked down at the bed, unable to contain how you were feeling. Every time you kissed, your feelings for him got progressively worse. You'd reached a breaking point.

"You alright?"

Your chest got a strike of pain through it. The innocence and caring in Felix's deep voice could've shattered you in that moment. You were a house of cards spilled all over the floor. You wanted so badly to tell him a lie, tell him everything was normal and fine, but you knew deep down it wasn't true. You loved him.

"No." Your voice shook, tears forming in your eyes. It was too much to handle.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm here. What's wrong?" Felix stroked your hair softly, leaning down to try to see your face.

You pressed your face directly into his chest, a place that had grown to be your comfort spot. His scent filled you with that soothing feeling, but your stomach turned again and you knew it meant something different now than it did before. A tear slid down your cheek. "I can't do this anymore, Felix. It's too much for me."

"Too much for you? Am I making you uncomfortable? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," Felix wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

"No, it's not that at all," Your voice broke, trying not to sob, "I think.. somewhere in this whole kissing thing.. I caught feelings for you. I haven't been able to tell you because I didn't want to make it weird, but it was making me feel so guilty.. and I was liking this too much for my own good. I get it if you don't want to hang out with me anymore, Felix. I'm sorry."

Felix froze for a little bit. He continued to hold you and stroke your hair, but he was silent for long enough to make you worry. Your heart ached as you realized that this might be the end of your relationship with him.

"I think I did, too."

"What?" You pulled back suddenly from his chest, meeting his eyes.

Felix's brows furrowed as he nodded. "I wasn't lying when I wanted to kiss you because I missed kissing.. but I think I did it partly because I wanted to kiss you specifically, and I thought I'd fuck things up between us if I tried to make it more than friends."

"Oh, Felix.." You broke into a smile, a few tears still rolling down your face, "You should've told me."

"I know.. I just couldn't get myself to do it. You were in my head all the time, driving me crazy. I knew it wasn't what friends do, but it was the only way I could still be normal friends with you without going mad."

"So, does that mean we can kiss.. like, not just as friends?"

"Yeah."

#felix #lee felix #felix x reader #lee felix x reader #stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fic #felix skz

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bloomseishiro · 1 month ago

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Heyyy! Got a request if you’re taking! 🤞 So, Rin x Reader 🔥

They fight, Reader goes to a party to chill. Bestie sees her crying, comforts her, then teases Rin by giving Reader a fake hickey with makeup and calls Rin to pick her up, saying Reader’s tipsy. Rin freaks out, rushes over feelin’ guilty. On the way home, Rin spots the hickey, gets mad jealous. Reader pretends it’s real — Rin gets all possessive, kisses her rough in the car. Finds out it’s fake but can’t stop himself. Ends with some intense car vibes — jealousy, love, and pure need. 😈💋🔥

Also, LOVE your fics!! 😍 Your writing’s such a vibe, always brightens my day! Keep doing you and take care, okay? 💖✨💯 Sending lots of good vibes! 😘💕

BAD IDEA, RIGHT? — ITOSHI RIN

౨ৎ — you get into a fight with rin and your best friend comes up with an idea for revenge. no one said it was a good idea…especially not rin when he spots a giant hickey on your neck.

itoshi rin x fem!reader. established relationship, sexual tension, suggestive content, 18+, mdni, no smut just rough make out sesh, fluff, alc consumption, this is lowkey toxic HAHAH but i support women’s wrongs <3, reader and bestie have like one collective brain cell, possessive!rin mmm yummy, wrote this with college au in mind !!

word count. 2.2k

a/n. ANON U DESERVE A MILLION COOKIES FOR THIS IDEA HEHE i love it sm i hope you enjoy!! and thank u sooo much for ur kind words <3 it means a lot to me!! ^-^ i hope you take care too and lots of love my dear nonnie xoxo

Fighting with your boyfriend sucks, but getting caught sobbing at a party sucks even worse. Mainly because you know strangers will see and talk about you as “that one sad girl from last night.”

You only solace is that your best friend spots you crying the moment she enters the room and rushes to your side immediately, eyes wide with worry.

“What’s wrong?” she cries, shoving open a closed bedroom door and ushering you inside and away from the crowds. “Don’t tell me some asshole dared to lay a finger on you—”

Fervently, you shake your head. “No, nothing like that. Don’t worry.”

She frowns. “If it’s not that, then what is it?”

Sighing, you plop down on the edge of the bed, hoping whatever frat guy’s room you’re in has washed his sheets recently. “Rin and I are fighting,” you mope. “And now he’s not talking to me.”

“What a jerk!” your best friend exclaims, always ready to take your side no matter the reason.

You crack a smile at the way she jumps to your defense. “It’s just so frustrating because he never apologizes first after an argument. And this time, I don’t want to be the one to! So now, we’re just in a stalemate because he’s so stubborn.”

“Men are idiots,” she says with an eye roll. “Lucky for you, I know the perfect way to get Rin to cave. He’ll realize just how much he’s missing!”

Eying her warily, you can’t help but ask, “What exactly are you thinking…?”

She grins evilly, taking her purse off her shoulder and pulling out a little makeup pouch. Shuffling through the contents, she makes a noise of satisfaction as she pulls out a mini eyeshadow palette and a reddish purple lipstick.

Confused, you tilt your head to the side. “You’re going to do my makeup?”

“Sure… Something like that.”

You blink.

“Come here and give me your neck!” she says impatiently. “I’m going to give you a fake hickey. We’re going to make Rin so jealous he grovels for just a crumb of your attention.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” you say worriedly, touching your collarbone and glancing at the makeup in your best friend’s hands.

She simply shrugs, as if she put no further thought into this so-called plan. “Not sure. Guess we’ll find out!”

You didn’t drink much tonight (alcohol and sadness would only create even more embarrassing tears), but just the proximity of alcohol must’ve dulled your brain cells even more, since you decided to agree. “Well, okay. Why not?”

With a wide smile, she gets to work, expertly applying eyeshadows and lip gloss until it looks like there’s a fresh new hickey on the side of your neck.

Taking a step back, she admires her work with a proud sniffle. “Wow. Looks better than any of the hickeys I’ve gotten.”

“Maybe you need to make out with better people,” you giggle, thinking about how Rin’s hickeys look much better than this fake one. Feel better, too.

“Ugh, whatever,” she scoffs playfully. “Not everyone can have a hot as shit and slightly psychotic boyfriend who hates everyone except his girlfriend.”

Her description makes you laugh before you remember your fight and how he still isn’t talking to you. Suddenly, your shoulders slump as you pout. “What if he hates me now, too?”

“He doesn’t! He’s so obsessed with you, babe,” she promises sincerely, giving you a hug. “He’s just a little stupid and stubborn! Here, give me your phone.”

You eye her questioningly but oblige nonetheless.

With your phone in hand, your best friend unlocks the screen and calls Rin.

“Hey!” you protest, but she puts her finger to her lips the moment he picks up.

“Hello?” he mumbles, sounding tired. It is almost midnight, after all. Rin was probably trying to sleep.

“Hey, Rin!” your friend sings.

Rin stays silent and you hear shuffling noises coming from his side of the line, likely him realizing he wasn’t on the phone with you. “What do you want?”

“Y/N’s, like, sooo tipsy right now,” she says, pretending to slur her words as well. “We’re at a party because, you know, you made her all depressed after your fight, but I think you need to come pick her up now…”

You hear the sound of a door opening and a car unlocking.

“I’m on my way,” he says as the engine revs in the background. “Please watch her until I get there.”

The phone beeps as the call ends and your best friend looks at you smugly.

“What?” you ask her, raising your brow.

“Told you he loves you. He even answered on the first ring!”

Your cheeks heat up as you look to the floor, shrugging. “Yeah,” you say quietly.

“But, you can’t forgive him just yet!” she scolds. “You have to pretend you're drunk and then he’ll see your hickey and get super jealous and regret what he did even more.”

“Or he could get mad and think I cheated and break up with me,” you try to reason.

She shakes her head. “Nah. He wouldn’t…” she trails off, suddenly unsure. “Well, maybe taking a few shots first would help?”

Your brain is, once again, telling you this is not a great idea. But, once again, you choose to ignore it. “Yeah, probably.”

With a grin, she leads you out of the room and back to the party where the two of you begin to take shot after shot. Not enough to get too fucked up, of course, but enough to think maybe your best friend’s idea is amazing after all.

But the time Rin arrives, the statement that you’re “sooo tipsy right now” is no longer a lie. In fact, as Rin’s car pulls up into the driveway, you all but stumble into his arms while your best friend winks goodbye.

“Hey, Rinnie,” you drawl, a careless grin on your face.

“Hey,” he replies quietly, looking you up and down with concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Just peachy!” you chirp as you enter the passenger seat of his car. “Just a little dizzy. And I want fries…”

He exhales through his nose before getting into the driver’s seat and starting his car. “Okay, we can stop by somewhere before heading to my place. How much did you drink?”

“Not too much,” you promise, leaning sideways against the car window and closing your eyes at the lightheaded feeling that rushes through you. “Just…enough.”

“Enough?” repeats Rin with a snort, glancing over at you for a brief second.

In that one moment, you notice his mood change as he abruptly pulls the car over to the side of the road.

You open your eyes at the jolt of inertia and your confused gaze meets Rin’s pissed off face. And by pissed off, you really do mean angry as shit.

“What is that?” he asks, barely able to control the tone of his voice.

You bolt upright with worry, not yet realizing what he’s talking about. “What?” you ask with wide eyes.

His eyes darken and his glare zeroes in on your collarbone. “That thing on your neck,” he spits. “Is that a fucking hickey?”

Realization crashes over you like a wave and you temporarily feel the alcohol evaporate from your body. What the hell were you and your best friend thinking again? “Oh, shit.”

“That’s all you have to say for yourself?” he asks incredulously.

You shake your head. “No! Well, I mean, it’s just…” as you begin to explain yourself, you hear your friend's voice in the back of your head telling you this is the best way to make Rin grovel after your fight. Pushing aside your guilty conscience (and your last thread of logic and rationality), you bite your tongue and nod. “Yeah. I didn’t think you would care. It’s not like you’ve even talked to me the last two days.”

Rin grits his teeth and unbuckles his seatbelt to face you fully, leaning over to your side of the car with an annoyed expression. “Didn’t think I care?”

You shrug, trying not to give in.

“You know damn well I care,” he barks out, reaching out to brush the side of your neck, his touch is gentle but his fingers tremble, as if he’s holding himself back from snapping by a single thread. “Just because we’re in the middle of a fight doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

Biting the corner of your lower lip, you swallow and remain silent.

“It doesn’t matter how bad our fight is. No one is allowed to touch you like that,” Rin warns, placing his large hand on the nape of your neck and guiding you towards him. “If I ever see someone else’s mark on you again, I won’t be so patient next time.”

Your stomach churns with a mixture of dread and excitement. “What will you do?” you prompt, voice catching in your throat.

“Murder them,” he says simply. “And punish you.”

With a sharp inhale, you make a mental note to send your best friend a giant thank you basket for the fake hickey.

Before you can open your mouth to reply, Rin’s patience snaps as he grabs your chin and lifts it up until your lips clash against his. Your eyes widen in surprise at the sudden movement before your shoulders relax as the familiar scent of Rin fills your senses.

He presses himself deeper into the kiss, nipping roughly at your plush bottom lip as his hand trails down from your chin to your neck. His warm, calloused hand lingers at the base of your neck for a few seconds too long before he lazily trails down your breasts and stomach, stopping only to grab at your waist and pull you tight against his body.

You arch your back as his grip on you tightens, urging your body to feel every inch of Rin that you possibly can. Your hands find their way around his neck, intertwining your fingers through his hair.

“Mmm,” you moan when you feel the teasing wetness of his tongue lick the spot he just bit. “Is this supposed to be a punishment?”

“No,” he murmurs in between kisses, slowly pulling away from your lips to trail his hot, wet mouth against your jaw and down to the spot on your neck behind your ear. “This is just to show you how much better it is with me.”

You feel a shiver shoot down your spine as Rin begins to toy with the most sensitive spot of your neck, nipping and sucking and licking until you’re a squirming mess on his passenger seat.

“That dumbass didn’t even give you a hickey in your favorite place,” he says mockingly, teasingly biting the lobe of your ear once he was satisfied with the mark he made. “How embarrassing.”

You whine as he caresses your ear so gently, it tickles.

“You’re mine,” growls Rin under his breath. “No one can make you feel as good as I do. Isn’t that right, baby?”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you make a pathetic noise of agreement.

You feel Rin smirk against your skin before he pulls away and lets you catch your breath. At this distance, he manages to take a look at your so-called hickey, brows furrowing when he notices how smudged it’s become.

“What—?” his words break off, taking a look at his fingertips that now had purple and red eyeshadow and lipgloss on it. “Y/N… What the hell is this?”

At his confused and helpless expression, you can’t help but stifle the giggle that escapes you.

His crease between his brows crinkle even more at your lack of explanation.

“I’m sorry, Rinnie,” you relent after releasing all your laughter. “No one gave me a hickey at the party. My friend knew we were fighting and we wanted to get back at you.” Touching the mess on your neck, you wipe it away with the back of your hand. “It’s just makeup.”

“Makeup,” he deadpans.

You nod sheepishly. “Makeup…” you repeat, showing him the eyeshadow smeared on you. “No matter how bad of a fight we’re in, I would never do that to you, Rin.”

He notices your tone switch from playful to genuine and he looks up at you with a serious expression on his face. “Good. I can’t play soccer professionally if I get arrested for murdering the person who gives you a hickey.”

“The only person that would be is yourself,” you promise with a grin, fingers instrinctly grazing the sensitive love bite he just made. “You’re the only person I want kissing my neck, anyway.”

“The smartest thing you’ve said all day,” says Rin dryly, placing another kiss on your jaw. “Still, your punishment for that stupid prank isn’t over.”

“It’s not?”

He shakes his head slowly, darkened eyes trained on you with a half-lidded gaze. “Hasn’t even started.”

Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of the heat between the two of you fogging up his car windows. With the heavy breathing and hot touches, it’s no wonder the temperature around you rose. Add in the alcohol that is still lingering in your system, and it’s a recipe for a volcanic eruption.

His fingers cup your cheek and they brush sensually against your soft skin. You lean in, anticipating another kiss when he pulls away with a laugh.

You whine and pout, but it only adds fuel to Rin’s cruel satisfaction.

“Let’s get you some fries first.”

#🌸.writings #🌸.bloom after dark #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #rin x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #blue lock #bllk #bllk fanfic #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #rin itoshi x you #rin x you #itoshi rin x you #bllk x y/n

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eclipseberrycake · 6 months ago

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Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader

I took some inspiration from @huneybeen who wrote this first so please please dont hate me but I've been thinking about them for the past 3 days and I needed to word vomit.

...K thanks bye.

Divider Credit: @sister-lucifer

☁ The dynamic of this alone is something I'd like to touch on especially because it's so fun to me.

☁ I imagine if anything the reader would be a common toon, so that changed things. You have two mains, Astro and Sprout, and two commons, yourself and Cosmo.

☁ You and Cosmo probably meet first because of that. You get close because of similar interests and stay close during runs.

☁ To add an extra layer to this, imagine Distactor! Reader too? Licking my fingers at this.

☁ Cosmo thought he had just gotten a new friend! He loves giving them treats and using them as a taste tester and even taking naps together wherever possible! It's great!

☁ Until...it's not? Why are you taking off? Why do the trinkets hooked onto your belt look suspiciously like the ones Goob and Tisha are known to use? Why are you actively getting the Twisteds attention?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

☁ The first time he sees you distract is a little stressful for poor Cosmo. The second you're back in the elevator and it clinks shut, he is whirling on you and demanding an explanation.

☁ He's so exasperated that he's left speechless when you simply smile up at him, still high off adrenaline, while talking a mile a minute about how much fun that was.

☁....Are you insane?

☁ That being said, after the fact, Cosmo is literally your personal healer. He is constantly fighting Toodles the other toons for heals, not for himself, not really, but so he's never left with nothing to give you.

☁ That's probably when he realizes he has an initial crush on you. He's mid-way through using a med-kit on you, on a floor high enough he can see the running starting to effect you. You're sluggish and fatigued and can't chug pop fast enough. It makes his chest ache at the sight before he's swallowing his nerves and wrapping his arms around you.

☁ "You're doing great. Thank you for the work you do."

☁ Feeling you melt against him made every grueling floor worth it in that moment. The draining yank of his own health leaving him to go to you through every new treat was far beyond repaid. He would do it a million times over for you if only for a smidge chance at this moment again.

☁ The run was finished soon after that, and you were quick to express your thanks towards him after that. Safe to say, if you thought he was clingy before, that was nothing. It's like he literally took an invisible chain and connected it between you two and you just haven't found it yet.

☁ He's always there with a smile and a treat and a snuggle if time and twisteds permit.

☁ Now, some world building for ya. I imagine that the OG Twisteds of the mains you see, are the real mains until that research is completed. Then Dandy lets you purchase an...un-twist antidote or something and that's when they come back. It's fun to me >:(.

☁ Following this, most people are gonna assume Sprout comes first.

☁ WRONG. I got Astro first so guess whose coming back. Astro.

☁ When Astro comes back, he's evidently shaken by the whole ordeal. The mains probably didn't know the commons overly well unless they were explicitly paired together. Like Sprout and Cosmo in that one animation, or Glisten and Vee, etc. Astro isn't seen with any commons, as far as I know, so he's probably a little lost and feels like an outsider.

☁ While he's recovering he's banned from any runs. Point blank period. However, that means he's alone while the commons are all out scavenging for research.

☁ Guess who comes in? Guess :)

☁ It's you!

☁ Unlike Cosmo, there are other distracting toons. Tisha and Goob both are more than happy to take some shifts while you stay back to recover yourself. Unfortunately, there's only one Cosmo, so he's left going on the runs as a healer and leaving you behind. You always see him off though, giving him pecks on the cheek before he's stepping into the elevator.

☁ You take the time to wander through Gardenview, eyeing each room as you pass before blinking at the infirmary. The new toon was in there.

☁ Astro half expected you to just continue on, regardless of if he was there or not. He was fine on his own, even if it wasn't his favorite. It reminded him too much of when he was... Of before.

☁ But you poked the top of your head in the doorway, your eyes being the only part of you visible. He blinked at the action, making eye contact. Your head tilted at the action and his own mirrored it. It made you giggle as you disappeared back around the door.

☁ Despite it, Astro found himself smiling at the action. what an odd toon you were.

☁ He never heard your footsteps disappear however, stunning himself when you popped your eyes back in, gleaming with mischief. The rest of you stepped in right after, pressing a finger to your lips with a humorous little wink. "Wanna sneak into the kitchen and steal some cookies?"

☁ Needless to say, he found himself in the kitchen, sitting beside you with a cookie jar shaped like a suspicious, rainbow petal'd plant sat between you munching on cookies that looked a little too familiar for comfort.

☁ You filled the silence whenever something popped into your brain, talking about things you felt he should know for whatever reason. He now knew all about Rodger and Glisten and Teagan's tension, which he wouldn't have guessed, and all about Gigi's...problem with misplaced objects. He even knew about your own rumors that laid hushed in the walls, spoken like they were about someone else.

☁ "Yeah! People keep saying Cosmo and I are a thing but he's never asked so until then, that's a no."

☁ He hummed at the time, even if some part of him felt a bit relieved at the information.

☁ By the time he was cleared to go on runs, you were bouncing up and down by his side excitedly, trinkets clinking from where you had hooked them onto your waist, with Cosmo excitedly grinning behind you.

☁ He liked seeing you two like that.

☁ Now. Sprout. Mr. Seedly.

☁ He's last to join. Astro helps with this tremendously. When you're downed from a surprise Shrimpo attack, clutching your arm as Ichor pooled over, Cosmo is quick to try and jump in to help, only for a twisted clone of himself to turn and lock in onto him.

☁ As much as I love to proclaim "Distractor! Cosmo!" he's not actually a distractor. So, he has to run to lose the twisteds quickly before getting bit himself. This is where Astro comes in. Not only does he quickly re-energize both you and Cosmo, he is able to give you a momentary heal, letting you run off, air horn blazing, while hiding in the back to turn his attention to Cosmo.

☁ Whatever pieces you or Cosmo may lose, Astro picks up. Yet, not all of them seem to click into place just yet.

☁ When the elevator stills and you all hear the telltale steps, Astro is quick to grab your shoulders and spit all sorts of warnings. "Watch the tentacles. You'll know where they're going to appear. Don't try to test them. It's not worth it." "He's slow but don't take that for advantage. He will find a way to keep up." "Ignore every other twisted. We can handle them."

☁ Blinking, he watched you slowly nod before blinking and giving a much more firm acknowledgement. "Understood."

☁ When the elevators opened, Astro watched as you quickly got Sprout's attention, darting around a budding pile of ichor before sharply turning the other way. The reason why quickly became apparent when a twisted Teagan turned the corner, which Goob quickly took away.

☁ Nodding to himself, Astro found himself turning to face Cosmo, who looked terrified at the what just happened. Did he look that way when Astro was...That way with him? He hoped not.

☁ Frowning, he gripped his blanket tighter before letting out a breath, extending one of his hands through the opening towards Cosmo. The other looked at it with wide eyes before his eyes upturned to look at Astro's. "I'll stay with you the entire time."

☁ They had to follow you after all.

☁ They stayed a good distance away from where you and Goob were distracting (which was rather entertaining to watch actually), grabbing capsules wherever possible and tossing healing treats to you both as you passed.

☁ It was a rather seamless process actually up until the elevator timer began, sending the other toons of the squad running. Cosmo, who had been waiting for Astro to finish the last machine, seemed to halt before Astro was urging him forward, steeling himself to stay behind. "They'll run out of stamina before getting to the elevator. We'll be fine!"

☁ Albeit hesitantly, Cosmo did turn and run, finding safety next to Rodger while Astro stayed a ways away outside. Goob was quick to return, free of twisteds, but looking no less stressed. "They were far! Sprout cut off their exit!" Goob quickly explained, twiddling his fingers in front of him.

☁ Astro nodded before instructing him to stand in the elevator as well just in case.

☁ As the seconds ticked down, Astro was seconds away from stepping just far enough to remain out of Goob's range just in case when you came skidding around a corner. He could tell you were running on low as you kept looking back, narrowly avoiding Sprout's clawed grasp. Waiting until you were close enough, he let his power thrum along the ground, watching as you immediately perked up.

☁ Goob took this as a signal, or maybe you gave him one, as you quickly moved to push Astro forward, right into the awaiting arms as you continued towards the elevator. Just as the elevator began to close, you dove, making it just under the steel metal as it slammed shut behind you.

☁ You were panting as you laid on the ground, the entire elevator silent save for your heavy breaths and the sound of Dandy preparing for his arrival.

☁ Cosmo was quick to jump onto you, hurling threats of no more heals if you ever tried anything like that ever again. You took it with grace, gently resting a hand on his head as he cried into your shoulder. Your eyes angled back, catching his and extending your free hand. "You can't fool me. I know that scared you too."

☁ If Astro moved forward to take your hand, sitting close enough to you his knees brushed your shoulders.

☁ You had gotten what you needed though, evident with the glower Dandy shot at you, hidden behind a plastic smile.

☁ Getting Sprout back was harder than getting Astro back, admittedly. You had explained that when getting a main back, you kept most of the toons behind simply for everyone's sake. Distractors, Cosmo and fast extractors was where you drew the line.

☁ Which Astro understood. But didn't like. However, that being said, his power made him a valuable asset, which he used to argue his point. When you acquiesced, he nearly cheered, triumphantly trekking into the elevator with Cosmo by his side.

☁ To say this was like the previous runs, but on some sort of crack would be an understatement. It was fast. It was grueling. It was a thing of constant motion with machines constantly being done and the elevator a repeating pattern of opening and closing.

☁ There were no jokes like usual. There was no chatting. There was a new tension among the people in the elevator, simply waiting for the countdown before starting it all over again.

☁ Cosmo ensured he stuck beside Astro the entire time, remaining a rock the entire time while you were busy. They kept close enough they could rush to you should the need arise, and have a few times, but stayed within hands reach of each other.

☁ By the time they reached floor 24, with all of you tired and injured to some extent, the sound of his steps were both a welcome reprieve and a dreaded expectation.

☁ You were the one trusted with the serum, clutching it tightly as you glared at the elevator before you were turning to look at Cosmo and Astro over your shoulder. "Stay safe, please. Don't wait for me."

☁ It was a harrowing ask, but not one they could linger on as the elevator opened and you took off.

☁ But then the lights went out.

☁ And then they heard Sprout let out a shrill roar signaling he spotted you.

☁ Then they heard the snarling of Pebble signaling he too also spotted you.

☁ That was all they needed before the group of them dispersed, eager to complete the machines as quick as possible before you paid the price for their lack of action.

☁ One by one each ticked off before the elevator was reopening and they all rushed back to the elevator. Goob, Cosmo and Astro stood right up at the lip of the elevator, eyes darting for you. You appeared much quicker, both Pebble and Sprout on your heels as you did.

☁ You dropped a quick smoke bomb, loosing both of their attentions as you quickly rounded around a counter. Pebble let out a snarl as he ran off in the other direction. He didn't get far before hearing you move and it was like a movie.

☁ You moved, launching at Sprout with the Serum poised and ready while Pebble snarled, rushing to catch you. You managed to catch Sprout, digging the spout of the needle into his neck before being chucked off, making you scramble as you quickly darted back around the counter. Astro let his power thrum as Goob snapped his arms out, Cosmo catching you as you ran into the elevator while Goob's arms snapped back. The elevator snapped shut as Glisten moved to end the run and send the elevator back up, both you and Cosmo moving to where Goob cradled an ichor riddle body.

☁ You quickly let Cosmo do what he needed too, diverging to wrap your arms around Astro, who's eyes were locked onto Sprout.

☁ He spent the night with you and Cosmo, both of which he dragged out of your rooms to sleep in his that night.

☁ Sprout's recovery is quicker than Astro's, as he's a toon made for healing. He's up and bitching before any of you can stop him.

☁ Cosmo is his first stop, duh, they're canonically very close, with Astro a close second as he would know the other main. But you? Sprout's got no idea who you are.

☁ So he's a little stand-offish. He sees you interacting with Cosmo and sees you with Astro, and both seem to thoroughly enjoy your company, but he also saw you when he was a twisted.

☁ You were a dumbass if he had anything to say about it.

☁ You'd see someone way down a hallway and risk running into a wall to avoid them getting maybe even possibly spotted. He'd seen you eat enough chocolate bars to make him sake just to stay just in front of Pebble. He'd seen you slip on a stray jumper cable only to get right back up and do the same thing when you rounded around.

☁ He wasn't sure he wanted that rubbing off on him.

☁ But you stuck around. When Cosmo wanted to bake, you were the first to get a bit of the final product. When Astro wanted a nap, you were right there with a blanket, acting as a pillow while you napped with him.

☁ Even on runs, you were quick to come to his aid, taking back the twisteds once he'd gotten his aggro-tapes. All with a stupid smile.

☁ He kind of hated that smile.

☁ Man this is getting LONGGG

☁ Anyway, how would you and Sprout bond? Uh, the common denominators silly!

☁ You were injured on a previous run, bad enough to warrant bed rest decrees from both Cosmo AND Astro. Lucky you!

☁ Sprout had only been cleared for basic runs and this was another possible retrieval run, which you heavily protested against with not only you injured but your second healer still on probation.

☁ Still, they went on with it. You and Sprout were left in the infirmary, awkward silence settling between you. Neither of you knew what to say from there. Your buffers were gone.

☁ With a huff, you sat up, running a hand down your face before turning to face Sprout. Who was watching you.

☁ He watched you like a hawk, watching as you swung your feet off the bed and slowly stood like a shaky new born fawn. "Cosmo's not gonna like that."

☁ You snorted at him, falling back onto the bed only to try again. Sprout's eyes narrowed as he scoffed. "Astro's not gonna like it either."

☁ You snorted again, finally finding your standing before turning to look at him, narrowing your eyes at him. "Are you coming with me to get cookies or not?"

☁ ...well, he can't say he didn't warn you. He did follow you to go get treats, acting as a crutch along the way simply for the reason he didn't want to wait for you to hobble along.

☁ That was the only reason.

☁ By the time you both got to the kitchen, munching on treats, you had picked up a fun back and forth with each other, trading quips as you dug into the cookie jar once more. You pulled out the last cookie, offering it to him.

☁ He looked at it before shaking his head, only for you to roll your eyes and split it in two. He took it with a grumble, scoffing. "I made them I can make more."

☁ "Gonna make them with Astro's face again?" You shot back with a grin, nibbling onto your own half.

☁ He gave an affronted gasp before the ding of the elevator was making you both look over, Sprout giving you a hand to welcome back the group. They hadn't been gone very long, so it either went very well or not well at all.

☁ It turned out be neither. The run had been called as they were unable to fall into a rhythm and Scraps and Brightney had gotten into quite the altercation.

☁ Both you and Sprout find yourselves looked for Cosmo and Astro, only to find them chatting near the entrance, completely fine. There's a moment between you and hi m, where you both side eye each other before you're reaching out and shoving him. Without trinkets you two are practically the same speed, only he has you outmatched with stamina.

☁ Which was his only hope as he stumbled, not expecting the dirty play, watching you take off towards them. He quickly caught up trying to shove you only for you to dodge him with a laugh.

☁ He knew he should've distracted more. He had gotten complacent with Pebble and was now paying the price for it. He should've known you were a dirty filthy cheater. He should've guessed.

☁ In a last ditch effort he launched himself at you, making you squawk as you both rolled forward, giving both Cosmo and Astro little time before the two of you collided into them sending the four of you into a heap of undignified limbs and cackles.

☁ I spent that entire time just developing that omfg and its already long. sobbing.

☁ Anyway how y'all get together is gonna be TBD bc my head is hurty and my tummy is empty. ~<3

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it-was-summer · 6 months ago

Text

Buy Me Presents, Baby

A/N: Minors; DNI. I DONT CAREEE I WANT HIM!! Anyways, this may or may not be based on true events in my life. If you're reading this also know that I wrote this Christmas Eve and it is now 5am on Christmas Day, the powerhouse of lust. Hope you guys like this because I DID NOT proofread this AT ALL!! I mention the pill (oral contraception), so sorry if this is an issue, I'm just a girl. I KNOW there is a typo in here... i know it. Merry Christmas!! My gift is porn!!- Love you, Em

edit- the typo was fully in the title… go to bed at a reasonable time kids.

Link to the Ao3: Buy Me Presents, Baby Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Woof uhh okay! newly established relationship, Christmas sex, Spanking, Creampie, PnV sex, Reader gets called girl.. I apologize, Oral contraceptives are mentioned at the end, lingerie, that one bow lingerie... yall know which on I'm talking about?, That ONE!! WITH THE BOW YES!!, I had to use the word pussy.. IM SORRT IM NOT HAPPY ABOUT It, dirty talk, cock this cock that, not proofread, merry christmas.

Genre: Porn, no plot. Some fluff? Pairing: Established relationship!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Plot: You and Spencer exchange gifts for Christmas, and one of your gifts happens to be a little physical.

Word Count: 3,669

Spencer doesn’t know what’s gotten into you.

Though the longer he thinks about it, he should have seen the signs of your recent… restlessness. Being in the BAU came with its challenges, and one of these challenges was— of course— being away from home. Usually, the two of you would find a special time that worked for both of you to meet up and spend some well-deserved time together.

Lately, it has felt like the world was against you, though. Every time you had free time, he’d plan a date night with you, only for him to be called away on a case. The one time you planned a date, you came down with a cold. The cycle kept repeating in a million different annoying ways.

The cherry on top? It was almost Christmas. It's nearly Christmas, and neither of you has seen each other for a good three weeks— it’s miserable.

So imagine his excitement when his phone doesn’t ring early Saturday morning. When he steps out of his shower, he checks it again— nothing. He’s beaming when he calls you, your sleepy voice answering him before he says, “Dinner tonight?”

There’s a pause, followed by some rustling, “You’re free?”

“Mhm,” He hums with a grin, grabbing his glasses from the case and placing them gracefully on his face.

He can hear the excitement in your voice. " You want to exchange presents?” He remembers the playful tone in your voice when you said it, but at the time, he thought nothing of it. He chuckles softly before agreeing, saying a sweet goodbye, and hanging up the phone.

Dinner begins and ends at your place, decorated in lights and festive trinkets, and presents wrapped neatly under the fake tree in the corner of your living room. The gift exchange went smoothly; you got Spencer some reading essentials, followed by a special edition of one of his favorite books. Spencer, in turn, had bought you a pair of earrings you pointed out back in November and a framed copy of your favorite painting.

It was getting late now, with a warm cup of tea in his hands, you turned and whispered in a playful voice, “I still have one more gift for you.”

His eyebrows raised at that, bending his head to look at you as you sat with your back pressed against his chest, “More? After the special edition Tolstoy?”

“More. I was saving it for the twenty-fifth, but…” You trail off, your eyes leaving his as you glance toward your bedroom. “I could go get it ready now?”

Spencer smiles, thinking about it momentarily before he decides that he might not be home for Christmas. He mutters a soft “Yeah, okay.”

You stand up quickly, an excited look in your eyes when you tell him, “Okay, stay here!” And then you’re gone.

Spencer’s watching your bedroom door close with a faint smile. He stretches as he waits, his tea finished, when he hears you call out for him, “You can come in now!”

He stepped into your room with nothing but good intentions, that is, until he saw you lying on your bed in lingerie. Maroon satin material lays smooth against your skin, and the shape of a tantalizing bow teases him at the center of your chest and your underwear— barely there.

He clears his throat in a vain attempt to appear calm and collected, though he’s sure you can see his blushing cheeks and growing arousal. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words die in the back of his throat when you sit up on your elbows, pushing your breast out toward him a little more with an innocent tilt of your head. “You don’t like it?”

His voice cracks when he says, “No! I mean— that is to say, I do like it! I mean, I’m sure you can see how much I–” He nervously adjusts his sweater, shaky hands pulling at the collar.

You let out a soft hum, relaxing a little. " Are you going to stand by the door the whole time, or?” You tease him with a low laugh.

He quickly walks closer, shaking his head as he gets closer to the edge of the bed. The bed dips as he climbs onto the edge of the bed. He watches as you roll on your side to adjust for him, waiting until he is lying beside you before you whisper, “If you don’t want to, it’s okay–”

“I do! I do. It’s just we’ve only–” He motions between the two of you slowly, replacing the word. “A few times, and I wasn’t expecting,” His eyes trail down to your chest, his fingers twitching– itching to feel the material against his palm.

When he looks back into your eyes, you smile at him with a little sigh, “I know. I just saw it, and I thought of you.”

Spencer feels like his entire body is on fire when you say that. His pants become increasingly uncomfortable as he croaks softly, “That made you think of me?”

You hum a sweet-sounding “Mhm,” you lick your lips, “Cognitive association, right?”

Spencer thinks you’ll break him with the way you’re talking to him; your voice is low and quiet, clearly amused. He holds back a sound when he feels your hand take his and guide it to your barely clothed hip. For some reason, he wants to spew some facts about cognitive association, but in a rare moment, his mind goes blank.

His mind slows, and the only thing he can process is the feeling of satin material against your body. He drags his hand along your side, higher and higher, until his fingers trace the bra’s underwire. His eyes flicker over to yours as he leans in, pressing a slow kiss to your lips.

Kissing Spencer always starts soft, tender, and languid. It then slowly devolves into something passionate, heated, rough– something you adore. And you’re starting to feel the shift in this kiss, his tongue slightly grazing your bottom lip– a silent plea you happily fulfill, parting your lips to let his tongue tentatively enter the kiss.

You’re smiling into the kiss, shifting with him so you’re under him before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him deeper into the kiss. Spencer lets out a tiny sound of surprise against your lips at the rough movement, and he pulls away slightly, his lips barely touching yours when he says, “So aggressive,” His tone teasing as he captures your lips in another giddy kiss.

With your eyes closed and mouth occupied, your hands get to work. Blindly, you pull the bottom of his sweater, your lips only leaving his to help him pull the piece of clothing off his body. He’s eager to get his lips back on yours, his tongue resuming its work against yours, a kiss that makes your head spin and thoughts go hazy with how intense it feels.

You move your legs up and around his hips, pushing his hips down to yours with ease. Spencer whines into the kiss, his lips moving slowly against yours until he pulls away to kiss your jawline. His hips grind down onto yours, your breath hitching at the feeling.

Feeling his hardness through his pants makes you realize just how badly you need him, and it seems it does the same for him. His lips latch onto the lower side of your neck, sucking and licking softly at the sensitive area as his hips grind against yours harder.

The feeling makes your core squeeze around nothing; the new desire to get something, anything, inside you plants a seed in your lower abdomen. You feel shamefully needy as Spencer continues leaving light red and purple marks on the sensitive skin of your neck, his breathing heavy as he decorates you with marks.

You’re surprised to see that he’s actually moving lower, his markings getting closer to your collarbone when he pulls away, looking up at you with those lust-filled honey eyes, “May I?” The tips of his fingers tug lightly at the satin red bow covering your breasts.

Your legs leave his hips as he pulls the bow apart with a simple flick of his wrist. His eyes stay trained on your breast as he takes one into his hand and gently rubs at your nipple, eliciting a soft, quiet moan from you, “So pretty,” Then he dips his head lower to bring your left nipple into his mouth, licking at the sensitive bud with precision.

A sound— embarrassingly loud— escapes your lips at the feeling, your body squirming against his. You’re sure you can feel him smiling against your breast, his right hand moving to your right nipple, pinching it lightly.

Your fingers latch onto his hair, gently running them through his hair and occasionally pulling when his tongue does something particularly amazing against the bud of your nipple. You can feel electric arousal coursing through you, soft moans and sighs leaving you with every touch.

However, he’s pulling his lips away from your breast soon after, his cheeks red as he mutters a low, “Need to make sure you cum,” And you find yourself nodding in agreement as his hands leave your breast, pulling the lingerie’s satin thong to the side as he swipes two fingers along your entrance.

You let out a little sigh, feeling incredibly needy as his fingers brush against your clit teasingly. “Did dressing up like this make you this wet, or did I?” He asks, his fingers curiously leading back down to your entrance.

Shifting under him, you let out a breathless chuckle, “A bit of both,”

He grins at that, his head now to the side of yours, his thumb pressing against your clit slowly as he slides a finger inside you. You tense for a second with pleasure before relaxing as the feelings, his finger gently curling inside of you as his thumb presses down harder on your swollen bundle of nerves. “You’ve been fantasizing about this for weeks, haven’t you?”

His voice against your ear isn’t something you expect, but you aren’t surprised for long as he slides a second finger into you— your thoughts turning to mush, “Yes,” You whisper, your back arching slightly at his fingers move faster inside you, curling and pleasing you at a medium pace.

Spencer lets out a low hum, his eyes watching you as you get lost in pleasure, his thumb pressing against your clit a little harder as he finds that sweet little spot inside of you. He can feel the way your walls tighten around his fingers, and he’s envious of his own hand, wishing it was his cock instead.

Your moans only add to personal envy, his fingers moving and caressing your G-spot with greater precision. He tries not to groan, watching you arch your back off the bed. A cry followed by a string of heightened gasps from you has him wholly enraptured.

When his fingers start to get rough inside you, you’re already seeing stars, your left hand reaching over to grab onto Spencer’s bicep at the feelings, fingers gently digging into his skin as your body shakes. “Love watching you get close,” Spencer groans softly against your ear.

His lips slowly resume their markings on your neck, and the added stimulation sends you falling over the edge with a loud cry of pleasure. Your body shakes against him, and your high-pitched moans, accompanied by heavy panting, have pride swelling in his chest as his fingers help you ride out your orgasm.

His fingers only stop when your body goes slack, his lips leaving your neck to gently kiss at your lips— a gesture you return lazily. The feeling of his fingers leaving you has you feeling empty, but you’re quickly distracted as Spencer drags his soaked fingers to his lips. Your eyes widen for a second as you watch your boyfriend lick off every bit of you on them, “Let me get a taste,” Your voice is soft as Spencer leans in, kissing you fast and rough. Your tongue drags along his to get a second-hand taste of yourself in his mouth.

You’re quick to pull away, your hands hooking into the belt loop of his pants, gently yanking at the loop. Spencer laughs at the feeling, and he looks into your eyes with a shameful look— lustful and pleading. You know how badly he wants to dive straight in, but his determination to make you cum too many times to count usually gets in the way of his cock.

“Haven’t seen you in three weeks. You can make it up to me later.” You joke softly, your fingers undoing the top button with ease.

Spencer grins as he slides his pants down his legs, kicking them off. He finds himself blushing at how your eyes shamefully stare at the outline of his cock in his boxers, precum already wetting some of the fabric. He finds himself doing the same with you, though, his eyes taking in the undone ribbon of the lingerie at your sides, the way your legs are parted to give him a delicious view of your dripping sensitive folds.

Your fingers slip into the waistband of his boxers, gently tracing his cock with your fingers, a soft, pleasured sigh leaving his lips at the feeling. “So hard,” You mutter, leaning up to kiss a part of Spencer’s jaw.

Spencer lets out a low hum of agreement. Being as busy as he has been, he hasn’t found time for any kind of sexual release as of late. “It’s been a little while since I’ve–”

“That’s okay,” You sigh sensually, your hands wrapping around his dick slowly, “Take off your boxers.”

Spencer’s more than happy to comply, hurriedly discarding his boxers at your request. He watches as you pull your hand off him to take off your underwear, and Spencer squeaks out a nervous, “Leave it on?”

Grinning, you nod, your fingers pushing the thong back to the side of him. He groans at the action, looming over you now, his hands on either side of you. “Flip over,”

A jolt of excitement runs through you at the request, quickly flipping over on your stomach for him. A pleased sound leaves your lips as his hand moves to pull your hips up, forcing your back to arch for him. He slides his thumb and index inside the sting on your thong as he slowly rubs his cock in between your folds– the head of his cock gently kissing your clit.

The worst part about being in an established relationship and having just started having sex with your partner is the anxiety that follows you after you say something risky. Your lips part nonetheless, your hips pushing back against him quickly, “That’s right, get that cock wet with my pussy.”

You were never dull during sex, but Spencer was not expecting something so vulgar to fall from your lips. His hips stutter against yours before he finds himself incredibly turned on by the sudden confidence and vulgarity in your words. His hands yank your hips back roughly, lining himself up to inch himself inside of you slowly.

About halfway inside you, he pulls out till it is just the tip and then repeats the motion— it’s infuriatingly hot. You let out a soft whine at his toying with you and start to move your hips back against him, but that is met with a surprising spank to your ass.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips at the feelings before you blink, lifting your head to peer at him over your shoulder and whisper a little, “Harder,”

Seeing your half-lidded eyes looking over at him, your soft lips begging him to spank you harder, Spencer feels a shiver shoot down his spine. He’s sure he can feel himself grow harder as he pushes deeper into your pussy and delivers a solid smack to your ass with the flat of his palm.

He then follows the motion with a comforting rub of his hand against the swell of your ass. For a second, he’s worried about hurting you or making you uncomfortable– unexplored territory. The feeling of your walls tightening around him for a second, fluttering in a way that has him bottoming out inside you without hesitation, reassures him.

“God,” He huffs as he sets a pace, his hand occasionally delivering a hard spank to your ass whenever he feels your hips moving with his. You feel terrific; the feel of your reddening ass under his hand, the soft skin of your hip in his other, he’s surprised that he isn’t drooling.

You, however, are starting to feel yourself beginning to drool. Moans and groans coming from the two of you has your head spinning, the rough feeling of Spencer’s hips against yours making your legs feel weak.

Spencer pulls all the way out as he feels himself getting close, his soaked cock resting against your ass– the sight is something has him letting out a shaky sigh. He doesn’t need to say anything before you’re flipping over on your back again, legs spread and lips wet as you mutter a needy sounding, “More.”

Spencer can’t find it in himself to deny you or himself, moving closer to you and lining himself up with your entrance again. As he sinks into you, you move your legs up, your hands holding the back of your knee. The new position lets him sink in deeper, and Spencer’s sure you’re an angel.

You’re practically sucking him in, his breathing getting heavier as he moves against you, His eyes dipping between your face and between your legs– intelligent eyes watching the way his cock disappears deep inside of you. “You take it so well.”

His hands reach up slowly, tracing the back of your thighs before replacing your hands at the back of your knee, bending your legs back further. He places a chaste kiss on your forehead, the gentle gesture leaving your head reeling when accompanied by this immense pleasure.

You gasp out at the slight burn of your thighs, toes curling slightly, when Spencer starts to roll his hips in fast, tight circles. The roll of his hips makes his cock hit your G-spot, your eyes rolling back at the feeling as a guttural-sounding groan joins the lewd sounds leaving your lips.

Spencer takes that as his sign to snap his hips into yours, his forehead pressing against yours as he moans and whines. “You feel so fucking good. I’ll never leave again.”

You can feel your lower abdomen tighten quickly at the rough movements. A shaky laugh leaves you at his mention of never leaving, but words fail you as you cry out. The past few times the two of you have had sex, he was never this rough. You aren’t complaining, but his frantic, rapid thrusts are leaving you with the feeling that you’ll beg for a repeat sometime in the future.

A long whine leaves you as you feel yourself getting closer, your hands holding tight on Spencer’s shoulders, your body jolting slightly with his rough thrusts. “So good! You’re fucking me so good. Please, don’t stop.” You beg without shame, “Need to cum, make me cum again.” You beg through moans.

Spencer almost cums inside you upon hearing your begging, but he holds off— a new mission in focus. He slows for a second, moving one of your hands off his shoulder and under your knee before he slides his hand down to your aching clit. His thumb makes quick, tight, hard circles without warning— the scream that leaves your chest has him worried for your neighbors.

“That’s it, tighten around me like that.” He pants out from above you, his eyes locking onto yours as he speaks. He watches the way your eyebrows raise in pleasure, and your mouth starts to let out a mix of silent screams and loud groans. “You look pretty when you cum around my cock, my pretty girl.”

Your legs are shaking with that, the coil in your abdomen snapping with force as you bite your bottom lip to try and silence the sound of your orgasm– a groan that almost sounds inhuman. Spencer’s quick to follow, his hips roughly snapping into yours with his thumb continuing its torment on your sensitive clit.

The feeling of overstimulation has you letting out a weak-sounding whine, almost a sob. You’re gasping hard as he keeps going, frenzied thrusts that have your free hand gripping the sheet tight until he bottoms out in you with a shaking groan. His hips thrust into you a few more times as he empties himself into you, shaking hard.

A moment passes with neither of you moving, your legs moving down to the bed, and the realization sets in. Spencer looks at you with wild eyes, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking–”

You laughed weakly and held up a hand, “Spencer, it’s okay.” Your voice sounds a little raw as you relax into your bed slightly, with him still hovering over you. “I’m on the pill, remember?”

“Well, when taken correctly, it’s 99% effective, but if you’ve forgotten a day lately, it’s only 93%.” He pouts lightly when a giggle leaves your lips, but he smiles against his better judgment. “I’m serious, what if…”

“I doubt it will, but if it does come to that, we’ll deal with it.” You mutter, slowly reaching a hand up to rake your fingers through his messy brown hair. “Clean me up?”

Spencer notes how your voice sounds: shy and a little desperate. He tilts his head, a playful smile on his face as his eyes trail down to your parted thighs, “Insatiable this evening, I see,” He jokes as he begins to lower himself, soft fingers rubbing against your inner thighs.

You groan in faux annoyance before you feel his breath fanning against your inner thighs, “Merry Christmas,” You tease softly.

568 notes · View notes

kdh-tally · 2 days ago

Note

Hi! I love your work! I was wondering if you could do a thing where the Saja Boys realize that being kpop idols was bit harder than they originally thought? Like debuting was easy but now that they've debuted they've got to deal with Dispatch and dating scandals and other things idols have to deal with!

Saja Boys Struggling with the Idol Life

Prompt : Saja Boys realising that being Kpop Idols weren't as easy as they thought.

Author's Note : So this might be a teensy tiny bit angsty but only cause i got super into it lol. Prior to this movie coming out I've been a mega kpop fan since like 2016 and completely adore everything about the kpop community except evil fans. I feel like i've seen my fair share of unfairness and just put all my frustration about what some idols deal with into this. Anyways, Enjoy!

The first few months after debut had felt like a dream. After getting past their initial issues with Huntr/x, the boys had a proper debut into kpop society. It was dizzying. A blur of encores, confetti, excited fans, and constant camera flashes that never seemed to end. They felt invincible. They were invincible. Hungry for fame, powered by an energy that was now being put to good use, excited to share their apparent talents with the world. After all, what was a six-hour schedule compared to centuries of the blood-soaked domain they used to live in?

But slowly, things changed, fans set higher expectations, critics got harsher. They were no longer the new and bright rookies. More groups made music, the Saja Boys were good but they weren’t the only boy band out there. Even their fans didn’t seem to help. They got more invested with the boys' lives, possessive over what they did and who they hung around. It was getting suffocating.

Mystery sat slouched on the practice room floor, hoodie pulled up, hair hiding his face even though he was alone. He scrolled through the trending topics absently, thumb pausing at a familiar photo. It was of him at the gym, something their new manager had insisted all the boys do. He just so happened to have bumped into one of the female workers and someone had clipped it and made it out to be something it wasn’t.

The tags were misleading.

#SAJABOYS_Mystery_DatingRumor #MysteryAndThePilatesGirl #DispatchAtItAgain

He exhaled through his nose. Quietly. Bitterly.

“You don’t even know her,” Baby muttered from beside him, Mystery hadn’t noticed him come in.

“Try explaining that to twelve million people who already think they know everything about you.” the silver-haired boy sighed in response. He let the phone screen dim, the room sinking back into silence.

It wasn’t about the rumor.

It was about what came next. There would be comments dissecting his every move, fans creating timelines of when he must’ve "fallen in love", antis spinning it into him betraying the fans.. Even Zoey, who had also faced her fair share of dating rumors, had advised him to lay low for a bit. No solo lives, no fan interactions. “It’s best you let it blow over,” she’d said.

He wanted to tell everyone it was a lie. But what was the point of one person speaking amongst a crowd of yelling fans?

Romance stopped writing lyrics for the first time in weeks. His notebook remained open on his desk, pen idle.

He lay on his bed, watching some show Bobby recommended to him. His mind wasn’t on the movie though. He used to think emotions were a superpower. It was what he found most interesting about humans. That the overthinking, sensitivity, and deep craving to be seen was what made them unique. Was what made him unique. But now it felt like a trap.

Every word he wrote was calculated. Will fans think this line is about someone? Will this become a scandal? Will they think I’m dating?

He couldn't even smile or zone out on live streams without worrying about whether someone would spin some fantasy made up tale in their minds about him thinking of someone else. It especially hurt to be told who he apparently loved by people who knew almost nothing about him.

He had social media. He had seen the theories. Multiple fans claiming he had to be straight or gay or bisexual and many many others. He didn’t even know himself. He distanced himself from everyone, fearful of possibly being shipped with friends or even his bandmates.

Even the fun stages weren’t fun anymore. He had once looked forward to the variety shows and challenges, but suddenly the hosts began asking personal and provoking questions. He’d started putting on smiles like makeup. Perfect, identical and completely fake.

As he moved to turn off the television, his room becoming engulfed in darkness, he remembered when they had just debuted. He missed those times. Where his biggest fear was if Mira would one day stab him with her guandao for flirting with her and not whether a sasaeng would break into his home.

Jinu had always been the steady one. Their leader. Even when they fought he remained the glue of the group. Keeping them together both in demon form and as humans. But even he had a limit.

He stood in the dance studio well past midnight, practicing the same step again and again until his shoulder spasmed from the repetition. Not because he wasn’t getting it. But because he couldn’t afford to get it wrong.

Ever since their last stage, where a fan took a blurry photo of his hand coincidentally hovering a little too close to Rumi’s waist during a behind-the-scenes clip, he’d been trending for all the wrong reasons. Never mind that she was more than anyone would ever know to him. That they'd fought side by side in a war nobody even knew about. That he would give her every part of him if it meant seeing her smile.

It didn’t matter.

He was an idol now.

And idols don’t touch women.

He’d seen the magazines, blogs, articles written for anyone who was willing to listen. They painted him as an egoistical and cocky…. He couldn’t even bring himself to remember the words they used. It hurt too much to remember.

Baby had taken his phone away, pleading with him to stay off the media. But he couldn’t help it. He was like an addict. He needed to know what the fans were thinking at all times. He needed to know who they thought he was.

He stopped dancing, turning to look at his reflection. Pale. Hollow-eyed. Chest heaving not from cardio but anxiety. He wasn’t sure who he was anymore.

Abby had it the worst.

Because unlike the others, Abby loved the attention. He needed it. Craved it. The cheers, the gasps, the fan edits with filters, it made everything feel more real to him.

But recently?

He’d been trending for laughing too much at a female MC’s joke, even though he genuinely found it hilarious. For standing too close to a back-up dancer. For wearing a shirt that fans claimed was from a "couple brand."

He was even shamed for what brought him the most joy. His muscles. He’d simply been on his way to the company gym one day, he and the other boys stayed far away from public ones after seeing what happened to Mystery. He took his regular spot, though a few other idols had been there as well, they were all friendly.

Before he began his usual workout, he’d taken a little selfie. His shirt lifted provocatively to reveal his abs and everything. He posted it on his personal instagram story, thinking he’d given fans content for the day.

Sure he’d put on a little weight but it was barely noticeable. The group was on a well deserved break and he was taking the time to truly take care of himself, even if that meant eating a bit more junk food than he should have.

He hadn’t expected the scrutiny. He’d seen multiple comments and videos going on about how he must have gotten lazy, about how fans missed when he was muscular, how he now looked overweight.

“I haven’t even eaten this week!” he exploded, throwing his jacket onto the dorm floor. “I had one stupid burger and that was it!”

Mira, who was visiting, tried to calm him down. “Abby, you know they don’t mean harm—”

“Then why does it feel like I can’t breathe without someone twisting it into a crime?” he deflated.

She couldn’t answer. She simply wrapped him up in a tight hug as he broke down.

Baby stayed quiet most days. He was less snarky, didn’t go live as much, hung out less with Zoey and Rumi. It wasn’t because he didn’t care, but because he did. Just too much.

He watched all of his hyungs fall apart. He saw the way Jinu stayed up at night, scrolling through hate threads. The way Romance flinched when asked about “his type.” The way Mystery held his breath when female staff passed by. The way Abby was way less boisterous than usual.

Unfortunately he too had his own issues. People that were supposed to be his fans had begun to turn on him. Claiming he acted too much like a child. Claiming he needed to grow up.

At first he had rolled his eyes, he wasn’t even that childish. People just seemed to enjoy placing the cutest member into the baby category. He didn’t want to let it get to him but he had gotten conscious of every move he made. He remembered Zoey calling it Paranoia.

He didn’t eat on camera, as people flamed him for enjoying a strawberry. He didn’t play around with his hyungs as much. He didn’t even play into the whole aegyo thing anymore.

And Baby hated it. Sure he didn’t care for acting childish but it had gotten fun. And now all the fun was sucked out of it simply because a few people decided they didn’t want him to act that way anymore.

He hated how self conscious he got. He hated how he felt like he couldn’t tell his group members in fear of adding more to their plate. It was suffocating.

None of them had signed up for this.

Debuting had been easy.

It was staying on top that was killing them.

They had fought hunters and hellfire. Survived bloodshed and sacrifices. But nothing, not even Huntr/x, as experienced as they were, had prepared them for a world where they were no longer allowed to be human.

Where love was a scandal.

Where exhaustion was an attitude.

Where silence was considered ungrateful.

Later that week, they sat in their dorm in silence. No social media playing, no scrolling through the hate threads. It was just them, all together for the first time in days. Just boys who used to be monsters, now pretending to be perfect.

“We used to fight to survive,” Mystery spoke, breaking the silence.

“Now we’re just surviving to be liked.” Romance mumbled in resentment as he fidgeted with his bracelets. No one spoke for a while. Each boy struggled to swallow the truth that had been facing them the entire time.

Then Jinu nodded. “But we chose to keep doing this.” They all looked at him in disdain. “We agreed to do this because we wanted to show the girls that we were something good. And now we have to show that to everyone else too. We’re tired, yeah. But… maybe that’s part of being an idol.”

Baby groaned in annoyance, but a small smile, the first real one anyone had seen from him in weeks, tugged on his lips. “Why do you sound like a motivational speaker?”

Abby snorted. “Because he’s right.” It was true. Jinu did motivate them into joining his demon boy-band in the first place.

“So what now?” Romance smiled with exhaustion.

Jinu stood up. “We rest. We take care of each other. Then we get back on stage. Because we owe it to ourselves.”

Slowly, they stood too.

Because if they had learned one thing from their past life, it was that you don’t stop fighting just because the enemy looks different.

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jonnywaistcoat · 1 year ago

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Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

#writing advice #rambling #first drafts #gotta say not mad on being called a horrormaster #feel like ive a ways to go yet #horror journeyman maybe

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a-kaash-me-outside · 1 year ago

Text

˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚

♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡

- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]

on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto.

after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.

fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good

he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.

in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.

the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”

the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you.

when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.

the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”

the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”

you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.

he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.”

you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”

he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”

you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back.

when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in.

but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.

your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs.

“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable.

he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest.

“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.” you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.

you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.

“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”

his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin.

you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.

there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you.

when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”

in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?”

he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.

“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]

you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.

you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-

you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door.

but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient.

you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.

now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.

“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body.

you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait.

“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure.

“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”

“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration.

you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence.

“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now.

you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, “are you going to answer my question or…?”

“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils.

“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question.

one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope.

one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think.

but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less.

“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view.

“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.

“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates.

you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.

“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes.

you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.

“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”

you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”

he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”

“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.

“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.

“clearly,” you interject.

“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.

“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer.

“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?

“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest.

“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.

“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.

the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left.

his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me.

“whatever you want,” he answers instead.

you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.

“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated.

“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”

and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?

“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along.

“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now.

“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”

“and do you?” you ask.

his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.

“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.

“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?”

“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that.

“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.

you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)

“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”

“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want.

“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever.

“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”

“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”

you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it.

“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]

being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee.

like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can’t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.

but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.

so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee.

but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee.

yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee.

you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee.

and it works for a while.

but not forever.

three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt.

you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.

“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.

“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.

“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.

“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead.

you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful.

“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”

it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”

“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either.

you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession.

“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.

“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.

“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”

“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”

he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.

“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.

“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.

“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.

“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”

“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too.

he nods in response, continuing, “it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”

“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too.

“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too.

“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again.

he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.

“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.

he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says.

“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.

“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”

even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips.

he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body.

why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs.

you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?

he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.

you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat.

when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”

“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act.

he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”

you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”

“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall.

“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.

the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?”

you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”

he nearly comes inside of you right there.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out.

you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure.

but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this.

it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out.

you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.

and then one night you can’t find your keys.

you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen.

when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”

you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”

he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes.

you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”

“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere.

you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”

from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”

“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.

he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”

“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked.

15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?”

your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs.

you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.

“how do you know?” he asks.

“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”

“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.

you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face.

eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.

“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering.

he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”

you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”

it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost.

it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.

in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.

you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs.

you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together.

you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”

you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur.

“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”

“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree.

he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?”

and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.

you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow.

nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence.

you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump.

nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)

he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask.

he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”

you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”

“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”

“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”

it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not.

now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”

“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement.

he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.

“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”

he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”

you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”

“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before.

“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”

“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile.

he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak.

you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about.

“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”

you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree.

“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response.

“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:

>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby

<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)

>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????

<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!

>> nami <3 >> google tbh.

<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(

>> nami <3 >> goodbye.

<< read << :(

>> nami <3 >> i love you

<< read << :)

you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy.

arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case.

he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”

if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop.

he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word.

by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky.

“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too.

he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are.

“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles.

everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time.

it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you.

when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop.

you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back.

the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety.

“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur.

he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter.

“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates.

sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder.

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP

ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #toji smut #gojo smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #higuruma x reader #higuruma x reader smut #higuruma smut #nanami x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #actually not really tbh theres no smut in tojis or gojos cant even lie #toriwritesshit

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paulyenvol6 · 2 months ago

Text

The Bolter

I feel like I have to write a part three because I need more fluff and Joel scenes with the baby but I kind of escalated with this and wrote so much so I'm gonna put it in a new chapter. Enjoy :)

Part 1 Part 3

Contains: angst, anxiety, panic attacks, fluff, lots of tears, comfort, sweet Joel who's a little scared of opening up, reader has long hair, nicknames (honey, pumpkin)

Wordcount: 7,755

Masterlist

4 months later

"Let me at least help you with the box," Maria rolled her eyes but you stubbornly grabbed the edge to lift the object into the air.

"I got it."

"Oh y/n, you know that it's not good to lift heavy things in your state. C'mon just lemme…"

You frowned and gently pushed her arm away. "I said I got it."

"You're one stubborn thing," Maria said but defensively raised her hands in the air. Then she walked over to the table letting her gaze lazily wander over the maps and books laid out on the wooden surface.

"You know, Tommy and I went hunting yesterday… It was so cold, I think I sat by the fire for three hours afterwards. But it was nice. You know that I love spending time with Benjamin but every now and then I just enjoy a few hours just with Tommy."

You smiled and then wiped over your forehead with the back of your hand to remove the droplets of sweat that had formed there.

"That sounds good. But yeah, the weather is nasty at the moment."

Maria nodded slowly and then darted at you like she was uncertain whether to say her next words. But of course she did.

"Joel took Benjamin while we were gone."

The silence that followed her words was almost unbearable and you could have heard a needle drop on the floor. The soft expression on your face tensed, your jaw clenched and your fingertips prickled, but you refused to let anything show and so turned your back to your friend as you placed one item after another from the box on your kitchen shelf. To Maria that seemingly wasn't a sign clear enough to drop the topic yet because she continued.

"Joel has changed his nightstand. He built it with Tommy. And he has new curtains which are olive coloured and it's such a lovely contrast to the couch."

At first, you intended to just ignore her words and come up with a new subject, but when you heard Maria clear her throat again you abruptly turned around to glare at her.

"It's not necessary to update me about everything that's happening in his life, you know?"

She shrugged her shoulders, her nail scratching over the rough surface and her eyebrows lifted.

"I'm not. Just a few things that I heard through Tommy."

"His fuckin' curtains, Maria?" The addressed scoffed, her eyes wandering to you again.

"You know what's my take on all of this. I get that it's hard and I said this a million times already, but you have to talk to him. For the child's sake at least."

You forrowed your brow, a thudding ache in your temples.

"I can raise it on my own. I don't need Joel."

Maria sighed loudly, approaching you and putting a hand on your shoulder.

"I know you can. I'm not sayin' you need to get back together with him just 'cause you're pregnant. We're not living in the 60s anymore. But all I'm sayin' is that he has the right to know."

You refused to show her how deep her words cut and that she truly had hit a nerve. You had found a good friend in Maria but she didn't need to know everything.

"He made it clear what he thinks of children. Why tell him? Why bother him? He doesn't want children and so nothing's gonna change if I tell him."

Maria's hand on your shoulder tightened and you squirmed watching her through gloomy eyes.

"And what is your vision for the future?" she asked and you had to surpress a desperate exhale. "What if Joel's gonna see you outside and notice that you're pregnant? I don't even wanna start with what's gonna happen once you deliver the baby. You think you can hide it from him for the rest of your life?"

"Maria," you said, tears glistening in your eyes. It wasn't like you denied any of what she had already told you a million times, it was just that you couldn't deal with this right now.

Perhaps you should have moved on from him by now. Well, you hadn't. Your heart was in pieces, you rarely woke up without a headache, you just couldn't find any joy in life, and the effects of your pregnancy didn't help either.

"Please," you added and that was the moment your friend realised that this wasn't the right time to talk into your conscience.

She sighed and then pulled you towards her, her hand cradling your head just the way Joel always used to and you let out a long frustrated sob that Maria reacted to by securing her grip around you and soothingly caressing your back.

"Oh y/n, it's okay… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it..."

You granted yourself a short amount of self-pity before pulling back and rubbing over your eyes. The feeling of your eyes being all puffy and sore had become so familiar over the past few months that you didn't even notice it anymore, because you felt you were spending more time crying than not.

"Sorry," you apologised but Maria shook her head.

"It's okay. I'm sorry, I… I don't know, I guess I'm just tryin' to help you. But I don't think I am helping."

You chuckled bitterly but squeezed her arm. "You are. You are helping me by being here for me. I can't imagine how much worse all of this would be without you."

Your friend gave you a sad smile and then straightened her shoulders.

"I think I'm gonna leave now. Is that okay for you or do you need me?"

You pursed your lips, swallowing loudly because you felt that you actually wouldn't mind having her at your side every day for 24 hours but you couldn't be egoistic now. Maria had a family that needed her way more than you needed her so you forced a smile upon your mouth and slightly shook your head.

"No, it's fine. Maybe I'm gonna watch a movie. Or go for a walk."

You definitely wouldn't do either of these things. You hadn't been able to pull yourself together and go outside if there wasn't any need for it since the breakup and watching a movie only reminded you of Joel. You had caught yourself many times thinking about what he would have thought about specific scenes while watching a film and obviously it had only made you feel more miserable. So no, you had lied to Maria and would probably spend the rest of the time staring at a wall or sleeping or perhaps if you would feel unusually well today – although nothing hinted at that fact so far – read a book. But Maria seemingly didn't spot your lie and just nodded knowingly.

"Yeah, that sounds good. I think some fresh air would be good for you. Just call me if you need anything. I told you, Tommy is very understanding."

"Thank you, Maria. Seriously," you whispered and meant it.

She nodded again and then hugged you firmly, slightly swinging you to the side, the warmth of her hands wandering through the fabric of your hoodie and prickling on your skin. You almost would have sobbed again because anything that reminded you of Joel and your time together in the slightest way already caused you immense pain and right now you just missed feeling Joel's arms around you so much, you weren't even able to vocalise it.

Fortunately, you managed to hide how close you were to breaking down once again and lasted until the door was shut before letting the tears flow. It was an exhausting and tiring cycle at this point and you feared you actually weren't capable of making it stop. You woke up crying and went to bed crying and the worst part was, all it took was a book or a picture or even just a smell. You sometimes even felt ashamed about your behaviour especially when Maria saw you like that but what were you supposed to do?

One weekend a few weeks ago, you had changed your tactics because you felt you couldn't go on like this. It had caused a series of unplesant events which had lead to you swearing to never leave the house again if it wasn't absolutely necessary.

You called Maria one morning and asked her to go to the town centre and have breakfast with you. To say she had been surprised was an understatement. As soon as you had hung up, there had been a quivering, dangerous bubbling in your stomach, but you had ignored it and dragged yourself out of the house and to the café where Maria had reserved a table for two. But long story short, the morning had ended with your tears spilling in your coffee and all of the other guests giving you uncertain glances all throughout breakfast.

Not only had you completely embarrassed yourself and disturbed everyone else in the café, you had also come the realisation that Joel had surely learned about your dramatic scene as well. Jackson was a small town after all and dramatic outbursts like these usually reached the ears of even the most secluded citizens of the city.

After that you had given up just as quickly and spent the next days on your couch again and although you felt terrible about being so dramatic and not being able to move on, you didn't have the energy to force yourself to try and get out of the house. It was easier to sink into your cushions and cry thinking about Joel.

Was it helping you? You didn't know. You felt horrible most of the time but you had felt horrible in the café with Maria too and at least no one could watch your crying sessions in your living room so there it was. You preferred the quiet company of your blanket and hot tea over humiliating yourself in front of the whole town so it was an easy choice.

You slowly headed to the couch and rubbed over your swollen tummy a few times while sinking down on it. You were almost five months pregnant now and by now there was a prominent bulge and you caught yourself lovingly caressing it every now and then. Of course the baby was another reminder of Joel and there had been times when you had to cry over the fact that it had been him and you that had created the little child in your belly but the baby had also been a source of happiness to you during these hard times.

Watching your stomach grow, thinking about what it would feel like to hold it in your arms and imagining yourself strolling through the park with the child in a pram. You currently felt so miserable, you sometimes believed you would never be able to smile or laugh again, but you would have to. You had no choice. The baby was on its way and you would push through this horrible time for the baby's sake. Once it would be born you would care for two living creatures and while you were neglacting your welfare at the moment by rotting in your living room, you couldn't do the same thing to the baby. You had sworn to yourself to protect and shelter it so this was what you were going to do.

You slightly spread your legs getting in a comfortable position and then closed your eyes as you felt the quietness of the room make your head drowsy. It was quiet in here a lot these days. Your hand was still resting on your stomach, rubbing in soft circles because something about it never failed to comfort you although you sometimes involuntarily imagined that it was Joel's hand in the place of your own hand.

His large hand brushing over the swell of your tummy and his soft puppy eyes taking in each curve and line of your face while you sat on the couch for hours, the mere presence of each other enough for the two of you. His perfect fucking eyes… His curly soft hair…

Before you could even realise it you had drifted off to sleep and when you woke up an hour later the beautiful sun was gone, replaced by a shadow of clouds hanging over the town. You sighed and stretched your arms, a loud yawn escaping your throat. Then you looked at the clock and thoughtfully bit your lower lip. You weren't hungry for dinner yet, but you couldn't think of anything you were in the mood for. For a brief moment, just a flickering short thought, your mind wandered off to Joel again.

No. This wasn't helping.

You let out a dramatic whine, pressing a pillow on your face to muffle the cry and then hit with your fist against the armrest of the couch. Why did everything have to be so goddamn complicated all of the time? Why couldn't you stop thinking about him?

The bad mood hung over you all day long, even when you tried to read a few pages or play the piano, and finally you gave up and tucked yourself into bed at 8pm, your mind still wide awake.

The next day started equally unpromising and when you sat at your kitchen table watching your cereal with disgust and your stomach already rumbling although you hadn't taken a single spoon yet you figured that you had to do something. You would inevitably lose your mind if you kept going like this.

A sudden force took over you and the adrenaline shot throught your veins, making your nerves prickle and your heart pound in your chest. You pushed the bowl away from you to rise to your feet and let the invisible strength guide you towards the door. Whatever you were about to do, it was better than drowning in self-pity on your couch so you actively shut your mind off while your feet carried you to the wardrobe, your hands automatically reaching for your coat and then the door handle.

You were welcomed by sunlight which seemed to only encourage you and for the first time in weeks you felt something similar to hope. Your face was drawn with determination and pugnacity as you strolled through the streets and of course you involuntarily were headed towards a very specific building just a few houses further down the street.

Every confidance and energy magically left your body at the sight of the mailbox.

Joel Miller.

Just reading those two words did something to you and activated this longing in you that you so desperately had been trying to fight over the past weeks.

Joel Miller.

The words rang in your ear as if it was him who said them and suddenly you didn't feel strong at all. Suddenly you felt like you wouldn't even have the strength to walk back to your house anymore, your feet anchored in the alleyway beneath you and an invisible weight heavily pulling at your body.

Joel Miller.

You gulped and the sound seemed to echo in your head. This was so goddamn wrong. You couldn't sneak up on him like a pathetic weasel and show him that you after four months still weren't able to accept the fact that he had broken up with you. As if you hadn't embarrassed yourself enough already. But what was definitely even worse than confronting him was standing in his front garden like you were some kind of obsessive stalker who couldn't decide on whether to approach him or not so you chose to back out again.

Perhaps the option of talking to him would come up again, maybe solely for the purpose to somehow feel better, but you should think about it surrounded by your own four walls instead of right in front of his door. Yes, you would weigh it up and then if you decided to visit him you would come prepared and ready to see him after all those weeks.

"Y/n?"

You froze in the motion, your mind blank and your eyes springing open. Everything around you went silent. Perhaps you had only imagined the words in your head; it would be no surprise considering the emotional torture you currently went through. No wonder you were beginning to grow insane.

You hadn't heard the approaching footsteps and neither had you heard the loud breathing close to your ear but when you felt a hand on your shoulder you flinched and abruptly spinned around. You tasted copper on your tongue and your throat felt raw. Joel looked exactly the way he had when he had left you four months ago but in some way he seemed like a different human being.

"Y/n," he whispered or at least you believed it was what he had said because you didn't hear him but could only watch the movement of his lips.

Your view was shimmering and you swallowed hard to fight the dryness in your mouth. You had to say something, explain yourself and your awkward behaviour but it was hard to when there was this high-pitched ring in your ears. His lips moved again but this time you were incapable of figuring out what he had said and therefore you panicked. Tears stung in your eyes and your hands began to shake while you saw him scan your face through your blurry view. Your chest felt hollow and sweat broke across your shoulderblades, your fingers curling and uncurling like you were trying to grasp something.

In addition the cold air bit and nibbled at back of your neck, the wind like shards of ice against your sensitive skin. You cringed and felt your bottom lip tremble, your pupils nervously wandering between Joel's eyes when you felt his grip on your shoulder tighten.

"Let's get you inside. You're shivering."

You were so relieved about the fact that you had finally been able to comprehend him, that you didn't think about the expand of the content of his words until you stepped through his front door, the familiar scent of his home that reminded you of leather and sandlewood heavy in your nose. You sniffled, perhaps to enjoy the smell for a little bit longer and then let your glossy eyes wander over his living room, the comfortable couch you knew all too well, the armchair you had often sat in when the two of you were still getting to know each other and were too shy to sit close to each other and the floor lamp in the corner that radiated the most beautiful kind of yellow light.

You didn't know how long you were staring but when a hand gently pulled you to a chair you allowed it, your body fully trusting that Joel would guide you. He sat down across from you, his hands resting on the surface of the table as he watched you closely, your stressed state of mind not lost on him.

"Are you all right?" he demanded to know, his eyes twitching worriedly when you dropped your gaze to your hands folded in your lap.

You felt awful. Not only had you probably unsettled and disturbed Joel with your unexpected appearance in his front garden, you were now in his living room, which brought back many memories, each of which hurt like a twisted knife stabbing you in the heart, and he was probably too polite to tell you to fuck off.

Perhaps he was just pitying you. Thinking of you as a helpless child that couldn't take care of herself and now he had to babysit you and make sure you wouldn't pull some other humiliating shit.

"M'sorry," you mumbled and hiccuped which made you press a hand on your mouth. "Sorry," you repeated before a hand reached for yours and grabbed it to squeeze it lightly.

"Don't," was all he said but you finally were brave enough to dart at him. "S'alright."

Silence. You had endured a lot of silence since Joel had broken up with you, but you didn't know if it was his presence or the fact that you had fallen in love with his cosy little living room as much as you had fallen in love with him, but either way, right now you didn't mind silence. No, you even needed it like air to calm your upset mind and the longer you sat quietly, the more you felt your heartbeat slow down and your brain starting to work normally again.

The minute of rest made it possible for you to take a deep breath and although Joel didn't take his eyes off you for a mere second, it was like the two of you had come to some kind of silent understanding and as if he could read your mind he gave you just the perfect amount of time before clearing his throat.

"Why are you here?" he asked and grabbed his coffee mug to toy with the handle.

Your pale face drew with fear because you hadn't been able to prepare youself for this question, let alone figure out why you were actually here. So instead of answering you brought your hand to the edge of the table, scratching over the wood with the nail of your thumb. Your hair fell over your shoulders making you feel more shielded from his piercing gaze and despite feeling ungrateful and horrible for ignoring his question you waited and waited. You didn't know what for, but maybe there would be some sign or some disruption or perhaps he would say something, maybe even tell you that he had missed you.

"Do you want some tea?" Joel suddenly asked and the sound of his voice made you twitch. It was so strange to hear his voice after weeks of missing it and imagining it in your head and now he was actually here sitting at the same table as you. And maybe he was just being polite or seeing it as some kind of charity work, but at least he hadn't left yet.

"Yes," you answered, your voice croaked and thin but his eyes seemed to brighten up a little, relieved to finally hear you speak for the first time.

"Okay. S'gonna take a minute, but I'm gonna hurry up."

He rose to his feet, his hand brushing over the backrest of his chair and when he headed to the kitchen door, an ache spread in your heart cutting off your air supply. Perhaps it was the memory of him leaving you all those nights ago but a fear gripped you and squeezed so hard you saw white for a brief moment. You wanted to scream for him not to go and beg him on your knees if need be but fortunately a little something in you remained sane and held you back before Joel would officially declare you as mentally ill.

But that didn't mean that you didn't do anything and watched him leave in silence. The burden on your heart was simply too heavy, the pain in your chest too sharp and the throbbing heat in your head too intense. Something was urgently punching you in the stomach, right between your ribs, as if to demand your attention and so you raised your voice and although it was high and weak, it made Joel stop before he could reach the doorstep.

"Joel."

He turned around, his brown eyes concerned but curious and the slight nod of his head encouraged you enough to say the following words. You didn't know where they came from and what made you actually express them, but you did and what followed felt like the passing of years and years of time.

"I'm pregnant."

The silence that haunted his living room was so thick and loud, it pressed down on your shoulders, pushing you deeper into the chair and your skin was prickling with the aftermath of your announcement. Now that the words were out you wondered what had driven you. Where the strength to make your tongue and lips form those words had come from. There had been countless occasions to tell Joel back when the two of you had been a couple but each time your body had refused to cooperate and now you had suddenly managed to do it. And although your body was tense with cold fear you felt relieved as well. Nothing was standing between him and you now and sure, it would be a lie to deny that Maria had been right. As the father he deserved to know about his own child no matter the context and no matter what he had revealed about his personal attitude towards children. It was only fair.

There was a crease between his brow but you couldn't figure out if it was caused by anger or overload or being moved or perhaps even felicity. You silently watched him giving him the time to process those two words that still seemed to linger in the air that was thick with tension. It had taken you a lot of time to understand what it would mean to have a child as well so you patiently observed your ex - boyfriend who now bit on his bottom lip and whose eyes seemed to be glistening with tears but it was hard to tell over the distance.

And then a muscle in his forehead twitched and the next thing you felt were his arms around you. Joel had approached you, stepping in front of you and leaning down to hold your head against his chest, your face pressed against his neck which gave you no choice but to inhale his perfect scent. It was so good, so beautiful that you were crying within seconds but this time it didn't matter because you were almost certain that it hadn't been you who had produced the quiet sniffling sound the now reached your ears.

He held you so firmly and tightly like he wanted to make sure if you were actually there or perhaps he was scared to lose you and you wished you had the ability to tell him that you wouldn't go away. How dearly would you have liked to whisper in his ear and express how much you loved him, how much you had missed him and how much you wished to never pull away from this hug.

To say that you had cried a lot over the past few months would be an understatement, and although you had hoped that it had helped you deal with your emotions at least a little, right now the crying part felt like letting it all out all over again. The pain, the hurt, the love, the frustration. Everything was slipping past your lips against Joel's broad chest and he caught it, his hand cradling your head letting you know that he was there to take away the sorrow and that you now didn't need to worry anymore.

"J-Joel," you whimpered just to do anything because the accumulated tension and emotions in you threatened to be too much. You needed to scream or squeeze something. Everything was a strange mixture of joy and happiness about finally getting to be so close to him again, sadness and despair about the past miserable weeks and fear that this wouldn't last. That he would draw back any second and leave you in the cold again, the warmth his body radiated fading any moment and his arms that held you so securely pulling away so you had to hold yourself up on your own again.

But nothing hinted at the fact that he would do so any time soon. His fingers were entangled in your hair holding you like you would collaps without him which probably wasn't far from the truth. He had stepped between your legs, his other hand on the small of your back to make sure every inch of your body was as close to him as possible. And then there was his breathy voice brushing over your ear like a promise. A promise not only to reassure you that he was here and that this was real, but that no matter what would happen, it wouldn't be like last time.

"Yes. I know," he said, gently rocking you at the sound of another broken cry. "I know… I'm right here, pumpkin."

"I don't want you to go," you sobbed, your hand pinching the hem of his shirt while your other rested next to your head against his chest.

"I'm not gonna leave you… Don't you worry…"

But then you felt his hand on your head loosen and you twitched in panic as he pulled away, your eyes round as coins and your hands instantly grabbing his chequered shirt to prevent him from leaving you.

"S'alright," he cooed and took your face into both of his big hands. "Just wanna take a look at ya."

Your chin trembled and your pupils avoided him, but his eyes were on you and so were his thumbs that gently caressed your wet cheeks like you were something fragile that he couldn't believe he got to hold in his hands.

"Joel…," you mumbled again, your fingers tightly closing around his wrists and your eyes pleadingly looking up to him under your lashes.

"Yes, pumpkin. I'm here. N'I'm sorry…"

He sounded… sad and genuinely regretful while he had breathed these words and hope was bubbling in your stomach. And even though you knew how dangerous it was, you couldn't bring yourself to question your optimism right now. This was too good and the blistering liquid that escaped from your eyes along with your twisting insides was evidence enough that this was just the medicine you needed. Not a reality check or a reminder of Joel's words about offspring.

"N-No," your voice was overflowing, your fingers digging into the skin of his underarms like you couldn't believe yet that he didn't intend to drop you any second. He tightly clenched his teeth as if he was in pain and then leaned in to kiss your forehead, his lips soft and careful, shy almost.

"I'm sorry about all of this," Joel whispered once he looked at you again. His eyes were glistening as well and you could make out the traces of tears on his face but just couldn't figure out what it meant. He gulped, his adam's apple moving in his throat before his gaze dropped to your belly.

"When… I mean… when did you find out?"

"A few days before…"

There was no need to finish the sentence; Joel slowly nodded, his hands remaining tight and warm around your face.

"An' why didn't you tell me?" was his next question and the blood in your veins froze at his husky voice.

The thought of being confronted with his dislike for children once more made your stomach turn and you didn't know if you would be able to handle it a second time. But now his question lingered in the air and not answering wasn't an option. He deserved to know everything and now that you had taken the first step to clear up the air you intended to lay all of your cards on the table. Still, it took you a few seconds to sort out your brain, to form the words in your head, and as your pupils danced frantically, your eyes staring into space, Joel let go of you, which you responded to at first with a disapproving moan, but then he pulled up a chair, sat down close to you and took your hands in his.

"S'okay. Take your time."

His thumb drew patterns over the back of your hand leaving goosebumps on your arms and you granted yourself a few more seconds of watching his beautiful thick fingers before clearing your throat and concentrating in an attempt to control the mess that was your brain.

"'Cause of what you said," you whispered, eyes twisted in pain at the memory. The wound had had over four months to heal, but it was still fresh and talking about it seemed to open it up and heal it at the same time.

You searched in his eyes for a sign that he understood what you were talking about but you didn't and so you ignored your racing heart and the way your body rejected to talk about it and explained to him.

"You… you said that you didn't want any kids… I wanted to tell you before, but… I don't know I was overwhelmed and then I planned to, I really did, but-but… you know there was our fight and then you said that and-and I was scared that you would… I don't know leave me when I tell you and you were angry with me anyway. And then you b-broke up a-and… and I just couldn't."

There had been a break in your voice at the last word and your gaze had dropped to your lap. Saying these words had been hard enough already and looking right into Joel's eyes? There was no way you would have handled it without at least helplessly clinging to his body.

He didn't reply at first which you were more than thankful for because it took you a couple of minutes to collect yourself from the confession you had just made and once Joel trailed with his thumb over your knuckles, softly clearing his throat you felt strong enough to meet his gaze. You had to. You had to work out what it all meant for your future.

"I'm sorry. I really am." He leaned towards you again, this time kissing your temple, and you involuntarily grabbed his hand that was holding your head, feeling so in need of any kind of physical contact.

"I… Listen, I…" He exhaled loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers, his eyes closed and then made another attempt.

"I know I said that. And… I don't know in that situation I might've meant it, but…" He sighed again and almost furiously ran a hand through his hair.

"Jesus… I'm really not good at this stuff."

This time it was you who gently squeezed his hand and he gave you the faintest hint of a soft smile.

"The point is… I think I said it 'cause I just never thought having another kid would ever be an option. I didn't think about it. After… After she, you know… After it happened I was… I was at the lowest point in my life a-and I… I had all these thoughts thinkin' I could never have a child again 'cause I couldn't risk goin' through somethin' like that again. I had a girlfriend once an' at this time I was so fuckin' careful not to get her pregnant 'cause it was just a few years after the outbreak and I thought that havin' a child now would be the worst thing that could happen not only because of… you know, her, but also 'cause we were still tryin' to get a grip on everythin' and… you know, adapt… to everything."

He exhaled again but this time he did it out of relief.

"With you it's not like that." Your heart jumped.

"I… I don't know I met you and-and got to know you and everythin' was perfect… but it never crossed my mind that children… you know, were still an option. And that's why I said it when you mentioned her. Maybe 'cause it brought back old memories and old things that I promised myself back then and I just said them 'cause it was sort of an instinct. Or maybe 'cause I was angry at you and I just wanted to make you feel how terrible I felt after it happened so you'd feel bad. Make a scene or I don't know… Anyways, I didn't mean it. It meant nothing to me and that's why I couldn't even remember. And I wouldn't have said it if I knew that you were pregnant."

A single tear escaped from the corner of his eye and your eyes followed it all the way down until it touched the curve of his lip.

"I'm sorry, too," you whispered, the muscles in your chin twitching when Joel pulled your hand to his body to gently cage it between his own hand and his chest.

"No. Don't ya say that."

"But I am. I said awful stuff and you don't have to deny it. You had every right to be angry with me."

A sharp sniffle escaped you as a fresh wave of tears broke forth, mirroring the sun’s slow descent beyond the horizon. It was so sudden and intense that Joel's lips parted in shock and the was fast to move his chair even closer to you so your dropped head could lean against his shoulder.

"I missed you so much, Joel," you cried, the pain of the past 4 months crashing down upon you and you could do nothing but let it all out.

You surrendered to it, allowing the sadness, the fear, the anger and frustration, the regret and loneliness to get into your system and afflict your cells like a disease because you found it was the only way to eventually heal. And once again, you felt that with Joel at your side you were strong and courageous enough to face the sorrow, his support being what you needed to deal with the memories that you had been so frightened of over the last weeks.

"I missed you too, pumpkin. So so much…"

You clung to each other for life, seeking the comfort you had longed for so long and for the first time in months you actually felt that you could breathe freely. Nothing was restricting your air supply, no lump, no thickness in your throat that made you want to puke on the floor. You enjoyed the closeness for a few more minutes before preparing yourself for yet another thing that you felt you had to get off your chest.

"B-But...what you said the next day..." you began, looking up at him nervously as he retreated slightly.

Your eyes were begging for him, yearning for him to tell you that everything was going to be fine and that his reasons for breaking up with you were nothing more than meaningless excuses for feeling overwhelmed by circumstances.

Joel sat down again but didn't lose contact with your hand for a second.

"I know," he murmured and rubbed over the lower half of his face. "I… God, I don't know…"

"It was because of the fight, wasn't it?" you tried to help him, watching him precisely while he lay back in his chair.

"Kinda," Joel replied, rubbing his shoe tips together.

"Christ…," he cursed and you knew how difficult it was for him to express his thoughts. Joel wasn't the kind of man who usually faced his fears and vulnerabilities and talking to you about why he had felt the need to push you away from him? You couldn't emphasise enough how much you appreciated the fact that he tried for you.

"I mean, yeah, it kinda was 'cause of the fight. I… I did have doubts about the age gap thing sometimes, you know? Specially when we started datin'. But yeah, I mean you're a grown-up an' you can make your decisions and… maybe I'm an asshole but I wouldn't have ended our relationship because of it."

He nodded a few times, as if going over what he had just said and realising that he was on the right track.

"You know me, pumpkin," he then whispered, his voice soft and tender as his sparkling eyes took in your face and you couldn't help but melt under his gaze and at the sound of your favourite nickname. His voice embraced you like a warm blanket making you shudder and softly smile as Joel thoughtfully twisted his lips and the continued.

"You know that I ain't good at this stuff. Never was. An' I… I guess I panicked. When I heard you talk that night… and you spoke about openin' up and me drawin' back from you… I reacted. I reacted the only way I know and I shut down."

He paused, his lashes fluttering as he stared at the table as if there was anything interesting to see there.

"Maybe… I don't know, maybe it got too real. Maybe you became too real. The fact that you're here in – in my life and don't intend to leave and I… it was like a natural reaction. 'Cause it's what I do. I never was good at this and ever since… you know, ever since it happened with her I… I didn't want anyone to be that close again. 'Cause I fuckin' know what it feels like to lose someone like that. And I just… I saw in that moment how close you had gotten, y/n and seein' how much it hurt me that I hurt you… I realised that maybe I went too far with lettin' you in."

He sighed and let go of your hand, placing them on the table instead to trail his thumb over the rough surface.

"The thing about… her is that I – I just can't talk about it. It's… it's been 20 years and I – I just can't. And then you brought it up and – and it hit me like a… like a goddamn wrecking ball or somethin'. It was too much. But not just 'cause I didn't want to talk about it and it hurt so much but 'cause I realised that maybe…" He stopped again slightly shaking his head and sat up in his chair.

"I realised that maybe opening up to is what I would like? I mean I was stressed 'n' all and it was too much at once, but the thought of – of you gettin' to know more an' lettin' you in wasn't… so far away. And it was kinda pleasant to imagine talkin' to you 'bout it. 'Cause you're kind and – and sweet and I trust you but these feelings were so new and strange that I got scared and left 'cause I thought that would be easier."

He sighed like a massive weight had just dropped off his heart and perhaps that was exactly what had happened. Your tearful eyes were on his mouth as he still avoided your gaze, but as his flickering pupils sought you and your answer to all this, you drew your eyebrows together, tears threatening to spill again.

"I don't know if all of that makes any sense," Joel mumbled.

"It does," you breathed, nodding over and over again while a few silent tears ran down your flushed skin. "Thank you. For telling me."

Now it was him who nodded and to you it was a promise. A promise that Joel wouldn't bolt again. That he wouldn't take the easy path next time and run off because things became uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, Joel. I should've told you earlier. And I should've been more sensitive regarding… you know."

"S'okay. I didn't exactly make it easy f'you," he whispered, his voice hollow but stable.

You grabbed his hand that felt warm and soft despite the marks the years had left on his skin and clenched it so tightly that it must hurt but Joel didn't even flinch.

"And m'sorry too. All of the shit I said… Goddamnit, honey, I didn't mean it and I… I – I mean if you want it… I'd like to raise this child with you. Of course I would."

Your heart not only jumped, it seemed to pirouette. It was racing, pounding so loudly you could hear it in your ears and for the first time in months there was no weight pulling your limbs down. No, you rather seemed to defy gravity and felt so light that you would surely be able to ascend from the ground if you wanted to. But of course you didn't. All you wanted was to stay in this house with Joel until the end of time.

"Really?" you breathed, softly chuckling when his fingers wiped away a tear.

"Of course, pumpkin. I love you. I love you more than anythin' in this goddamn world. You're my air, my - my reason to keep goin'. I need you, honey and these last weeks have been hell."

Seeing your nose wrinkle as more and more tears streamed down your cheeks, he put his hands on your waist to pull you towards him once more and this time moved you to sit on his lap, arms sliding around your waist to keep you close.

"B-But then why d-didn't you come t-to me?" you sobbed, your nails digging into his shirt like your claws wanted to claim your prey.

"I did. I wanted to every single day, but I… I was scared that you hated me an' that I would only make things worse. I thought maybe you didn't wanna see me."

"I love you," you pressed against his hair, shivers coursing through your arms and your fingertips buzzing with adrenaline. "Never leave me again."

"I won't. I promise you, baby."

His fingers wove through your hair with tender precision, untangling every stubborn knot and once your hair flowed down your back like soft silk, his palms gently settled against your waist.

"We're gonna have our own l'il family," he whispered pulling back to meet your gaze and gently, carefully and lightly as the soft spring breeze outside brushed with his hand over the curve of your belly caressing you through the fabric of your sweatshirt and exploring where life was growing in that moment.

You bit your lip as you looked down at him, the colors around him suddenly brighter, the outlines of objects sharper. Even the shadows seemed to recede, the living room bathed in golden light, and the birds outside were singing a little louder than usual. This man had just lit up your world and everything from your own future to the future of this world seemed more optimistic. Full of possibilities and options.

"I'm happy, Joel."

The pats of his fingers stroked your cheek right next to the corners of your mouth, tracing your laugh lines and although it was still unfamiliar to smile again it felt natural to do so while sitting on Joel's lap, your torso pressed against him and strands of your hair hanging in his face.

"So am I, pumpkin."

And then you kissed him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@thoughts-of-bear-undercovers @bbabycass

And shoutout to @mrspascalsworld

172 notes · View notes

dailynnt · 3 months ago

Text

ONE NIGHT AS THE PRICE OF A REQUEST

⋆˙⟡ Summary: You hate your neighbor Jungkook, but you have to ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend at a party to get rid of your annoying boss. He agrees, but you don't even imagine what you'll have to pay him with. Everything goes according to plan until Jungkook reveals his true price during the dance: one night with him or your life in the neighborhood will be hell.

⋆˙⟡ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ The Reader, Jungkook/Y/N

⋆˙⟡ Age restrictions: 18+

⋆˙⟡ Index of chapters: ≣

⋆˙⟡ Number of chapter: 8/?

⋆˙⟡ Tags: enemies-to-neighbors-to-lover, fake relationship, hate to desire, dom!Jungkook, heated blackmail, one bed trope (later more than one bed), undeniable chemistry, forced deal, mutual obsession, dangerous game, unexpected feelings, passion on edge, impossible to resist, tension and desire, unprotected sex, sexual tension, slow burning

⋆˙⟡ From author: Hello my dear 💜 I came to you with a new part. Honestly, I think I'm experiencing writer's block again. I don't know, but I think you can feel it in the text, but I wrote it as well as I could 😖🥹 But it doesn't matter, the main thing is that I managed to write it and I'm excited to share the new part with you 💜 What do you think of Jungkook's actions? And do you think there is something between Sukhi and Yoongi? Leave me a few words about this chapter in the comments I'm curious to know what you think about the plot development 🫶🏻💜 I love you all and thank you for continuing to read ❤️‍🔥🥹

⋆˙⟡ Dedication: to my biggest love @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @kooko007, @smokinghotstargirl, @myjungkookthighs, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle for loving me for nothing. I love you girls twice as much 🥺🤭💜🫶🏻

⋆˙⟡ Tag list: @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @kooko009, @smokinghotstargirl, @myjungkookthighs, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle, @bhonbhon, @ottergirl, @vantelover1306, @deepikhaprakash, @mar-lo-pap, @zeytiable, @lallataegi, @vintagemoonsstuff, @indigomoonchild09, @diame93, @bts-ruu, @asyr97 (If you want to be on the tag list, let me know)

⋆˙⟡ Warning: English is not my native language, so please be lenient with mistakes in the text 🥹

Chapter 8. Established and Violated

Jungkook slowly let go of your face, but his fingers slid down to find your palm. He intertwined your fingers, pulling you closer-as if on purpose, as if he wanted to show someone.

You glanced at him quickly, trying to catch his reaction.

Jungkook was smiling, barely noticeably, with the same carelessness that always confused you. He looked as if he had been caught red-handed, but that was his plan.

"Sukhi... you're here today too? I didn't know you were invited," he said in an innocent tone that was lazy and absent-minded.

You turned your gaze to his fiancée. Her eyes swept over your figure, coldly assessing every detail.

"I'm surprised you didn't know, dear. I'm a leading model for Vante Maison. Of course I was invited." Her voice sounded soft, almost affectionate, but you wanted to distance myself from it. "So this is that girl who's causing all the fuss?" she smiled slightly, keeping her eyes on you. "Are you so fond of your new doll that you drag it everywhere?"

You raised your eyebrows, feeling irritation rise in your chest. You didn't know why, but this girl was getting on your nerves.

Kang Sukhi looked like a typical heiress-a girl who grew up in a world where there were no rejections and no compromises. Prestigious schools, private clubs, private parties for the elite. She knew what power was, and she was sure she was in control even now.

She was tall and slender, with a perfect body and face that had clearly cost more than a million. You immediately noticed a thin line along her nose, a trace of rhinoplasty. Her lips were a little plumper than usual, and her skin was flawlessly smooth, as if after laser resurfacing.

She wore a red Alexander McQueen dress that perfectly emphasized her figure, and an expensive diamond necklace sparkled around her neck. Precious earrings and a white gold bracelet were the perfect complement to the look. Her up-do and makeup looked flawless, though a bit... polished.

"Are you their model? I really didn't know..." Jungkook said, but you immediately realized he was playing the fool.

"You'd know if you answered any of my calls." Sukhi didn't change her tone. "I called you today to tell you that I'll be here too. I saw your name on the guest list."

"Oh, you called me?" Jungkook feigned surprise. "Sorry, Sukhi, I've been really busy these days..."

You hummed.

"Yes, I've noticed that you've been busy. And now I understand why." Sukhi raised her eyebrows, "Is that why you didn't come to dinner with our parents last night? Were you busy with something more important?"

You felt her gaze on you, as if she were looking at you not as a person but as a problem to be solved.

"That's right..." Jungkook replied with a smile, and then as if he remembered something, he raised his hand to his temple, "Oh, that's so rude of me. Meet Y/N," Jungkook said it lightly, as if he didn't notice the tension. "Y/N is Sukhi..."

"His future fiancée," she held out her hand to you. You looked at it and didn't even think to shake her hand in return it.

"Oh, the same bride whose engagement with was never officially announced? Yes, yes, I heard about you."

The smile you gave her was far from sincere. Jungkook squeezed your fingers lightly. The tension between you was almost tangible.

Sukhi smiled again, a flawless, soulless smile.

"How sweet." she took the hand you didn't want to shake, "I've always liked the way Jungkook picks his girls. He has good taste."

You held her gaze.

"Oh, so you're familiar with his past girlfriends?"

"Enough to know that none of them stayed long." Sukhi gave a slight shrug.

You laughed, though it was more mockery than amusement.

"Oh, so you're hoping I'll disappear too?"

Sukhi tilted her head as if she was really thinking.

"No need to hope. It's only a matter of time." She glanced at Jungkook, "So you might as well play with her while you still have the chance. But you know we're going to get married."

You heard Jungkook exhale slightly, hiding his smile.

"Why do you think I'm just playing around?" he deliberately ignored her words about marriage, his voice calm, almost lazy. "I like her."

Sukhi froze. Her eyes swept over you again, as if she were trying to figure out what it was about you that caught his attention. And then she smiled-silently, mockingly.

"I sincerely don't understand why. But go ahead. Play, my dear. Enjoy it while you can."

You felt her confidence - unshakable, hard as marble. You were so focused on this woman that you didn't notice Yoongi suddenly appear next to her. It was only when he stood next to her that you noticed him. He smiled, but you didn’t like his smile.

"Sukhi, you came at last..." he said, putting his arm around her waist. She turned to him, giving him the opportunity to kiss her on the cheek. Her smile became wide and friendly.

"Oh Oppa, I hurried as fast as I could." She said holding Yoongi’s hand. The man was in no hurry to let go of her waist. You watched the scene before your eyes with interest. It felt like they had forgotten where they were and that it was just the two of them.

You immediately noticed how Yoongi’s eyes were burning when he looked at Suhi. You mentally scoffed, because before that, this man looked chronically indifferent to everything. As soon as Jungkook’s fiancée appeared, Yoongi literally became a different person.

You thought that maybe Sukhi was acting this way on purpose to make Jungkook jealous. You were curious, so you looked up at him.

Jungkook didn't look annoyed or outraged. He watched the scene in front of him with the same expression that people have when watching a play they've seen many times before. His lips twitched slightly, as if he was about to say something but changed his mind.

Sukhi, meanwhile, gently adjusted Yoongi’s shirt collar as if it were a common thing for her.

"Yoongi-oppa, you know I couldn't miss this event," her voice became softer, almost caressing.

"Of course," he agreed, and there was not a shadow of indifference in his voice. On the contrary, Yoongi seemed completely enchanted by her.

Jungkook hummed softly and looked at you.

"It seems we're not needed here." He leaned closer, touching his lips to your hair. He pointed to Sukhi, who was now laughing flirtatiously at something Yoongi had said. You cast a quick glance at them.

"I think your fiancée wants you to be jealous."

Your faces were separated by a few centimeters. Jungkook smiled lazily, and you were literally mesmerized by the sight of him. You involuntarily looked down at his lips, and remembered how he had kissed you perfectly with them just recently.

"There is nothing more indifferent to me in this life than the jealousy she’s trying to provoke," he said playfully, but you could feel the determination in his voice. You liked his answer. You burst out laughing.

Sukhi, meanwhile, noticed that you and Jungkook were not paying any attention to her. She took half a step away from Yoongi, as if to pretend that she shouldn't be behaving like that. Yoongi, on the other hand, remained standing still, his hands hidden in his pocket.

"I'm going to go with Yoongi-oppa and say hello to everyone," Sukhi said, turning to Jungkook. He barely looked away from you. And you could barely look away from him.

You felt yourself getting hot. The alcohol in your blood was making itself felt. It was definitely because of it, not because of Jungkook, who was still pressing his strong body against yours.

Jungkook nodded but didn't say anything. Yoongi looked at him nervously, but he held his gaze calmly.

"Buddy, come with us. By the way, Jimin was looking for you," Yoongi said.

"We'll come back later. Go ahead without us," Jungkook replied, taking a glass of whiskey.

You looked over at Sukhi and Yoongi, watching their behavior carefully. Sukhi clicked her tongue slightly, then took Yoongi’s hand and they walked away. You followed her for a while longer, catching the subtle scent of her expensive perfume in the air.

Jungkook didn't let go of you. You tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let you.

"Kitten, you shouldn't get out quickly exit the role. She'll be watching all night," he said and took a sip of whiskey.

You tilted your head, looking at him carefully.

"Did you know she was going to be here? That's why we came here?" you asked bluntly.

Jungkook bit his lip near the piercing, but didn't answer right away. As if he was deliberately stalling.

"Yes. It was a good opportunity for her to see us together," he said and smiled slyly.

You folded your arms across your chest, looking away.

"Why didn't you warn me? I would have been better prepared..."

You didn't like Jungkook running your agreement alone. You should have been aware of all his plans, not playing improvisation.

"I think you did everything perfectly. Sukhi reaction was exactly what I expected. She was nervous," he said encouragingly and leaned over to lightly touch your forehead with his lips. You smiled.

You realized that somewhere in the crowd of people, Sukhi could be looking at you. And that's why you let Jungkook touch you the way he wanted.

"I don't think she felt any competition. Her confidence is higher than Namsan Tower," you said, pulling away from him. You were still in his arms. And for a second, you caught yourself thinking that you liked it. "She's beautiful. Why don't you just marry her?" you asked curiously.

"You're prettier," he replied nonchalantly.

Your heart fluttered. You were involuntarily confused for a moment. And Jungkook noticed. You raised your eyebrows skeptically.

"You don't need to lie now, there are no witnesses around."

"I'm not lying, kitten," he purred, leaning closer. You reflexively leaned back. Jungkook froze just a centimeter from your lips. You put your palms on his chest, holding him back.

"You're more beautiful, sexier, hotter. I was right to offer you this deal."

You laughed nervously. His words turned your insides upside down. He couldn't be serious. To you, Sukhi was perfect. And you had a lot of flaws.

"Gosh, is this your tactic? Are you trying to seduce me?" you squinted. Your fingers involuntarily squeezed the fabric of his white jacket.

Jungkook's eyes sparkled with dangerous sparks.

"I didn't even try," he replied, bending even lower. "But I'm sure that just by me touching you, your panties are wet."

You widened your eyes, but before you could say anything, he brazenly closed his lips on yours. His tongue was immediately in your mouth. And you really felt the moisture appearing between your legs. This man is having a detrimental effect on you.

You responded, but did not let the kiss last. You pushed him away, taking a step back. You quickly grabbed the cocktail glass and took a big gulp, trying to calm down.

Jungkook smiled with satisfaction and walked over to you. He leaned on the bar, looking at you. You stubbornly ignored him.

"Fuck, don't be so shy. Otherwise I'll walk around with a hard-on." You almost choked on your drink.

You coughed desperately, gasping for air, and Jungkook, satisfied with his effect on you, patted your back gently.

"Jeon, shut up," you said angrily, clearing your throat. He laughed loudly, and then leaned away from the counter and came up behind you, pressing his chest against your back.

"It's your own fault..." he murmured against your cheek. His hands slid down, and you suddenly felt... Felt him touching you with his half-erect cock through the fabric of your clothes. "And it seems to be working. Wouldn't you like to make my condition easier?" he asked. His grip on your waist tightened. He rubbed lightly against your buttocks. You held your breath as you felt his length. You felt hot. Your heart was racing. But you managed to pull yourself together. You must not fall for his provocations. You would never break the rule you had made. He used your body too confidently, as if he had every right to do so.

"I'm afraid I can't help you, love," you said, flatteringly, pulling away. Your eyes slid down and you caught yourself thinking that you had been staring at his arousal for too long. "But you can always help yourself."

"Too bad." Jungkook exhaled a laugh and then leaned down to your face, not coming close. "Because your game of indifference is turning me on like hell."

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore his influence. But he seemed to sense that you were losing control, and that was enough for him to press on.

"I'm serious, Jungkook. Leave me alone." you said with a completely cute expression on your face, although your tone was serious.

He tilted his head, looking at you thoughtfully.

"Leave you alone?" he repeated. "When you talk like that, I want to do the opposite."

"That's enough, Jungkook! This is annoying me, we agreed to behave within the framework of the agreement." Suddenly, you snapped, not even realizing you had raised your voice. His smug face instantly changed. You nervously looked around to see if anyone was looking at you.

Jungkook straightened up and took a half-step back, his smile disappearing. You turned away. He stood behind you in silence for a moment, and then you heard his voice.

"I'm going to go to Jimin and come back. If you need me, call me." He turned to leave, but you stopped him.

"You're dumping me?"

Jungkook stopped in a half turn. He looked neutral and for some reason you felt uncomfortable.

"No, I'm not dumping you, I'll be back very soon."

Jungkook didn't wait for you to answer. He walked decisively into the crowd, and you looked at his figure, that moves away, and for some reason you felt emptiness mixed with disappointment. You turned to the bar counter and wanted to hit it out of anger, but restrained yourself.

What were these strange feelings? You were in a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. Why should you feel bad about Jungkook leaving? It must be a good thing. Finally, silence, finally not having to catch his mocking glances, hear that confident, deep voice that constantly provokes you. But why the hell did it feel like the air was heavier, like this place had lost some of its energy?

You took another sip of your cocktail, trying to chase that feeling away. But as soon as you closed your eyes, you saw his image. A lazy smile, a confident look that made you feel hot.

His presence creates chaos in you - he knows how to get so close that you can feel his warmth, the smell of his perfume, that slight hint of danger in his every movement. And you always try not to give yourself away, not to let him know that he is affecting you.

But at the same time, he annoys you so much that you want to hit him, yell at him, just do anything to make him disappear. You noticed that every time he leaves... emptiness spills inside, leaving behind irritation and an inexplicable desire for him to return.

You took a deep breath, biting your lip.

"Everything okay?" the bartender asked, leaning over to you.

"Yeah, just... another cocktail," you mumbled, not quite sure why you needed one.

You weren't sure how long it had been since Jungkook had left, but he hadn't returned as promised. You'd finished your cocktail and didn't hesitate to order another.

You ignored the bartender's gaze, which seemed ready to listen to your worries at any moment. You were mindlessly scrolling through your feed and Instagram when the name of the contact you least wanted to see came up on the screen.

Your mother was calling. It was late for her usual calls. It was almost 10 p.m. Not even halfway through the usual time, she called again, and you were alarmed. You dismissed her call, but she was persistent.

After rejecting three more calls from your mother, you realized that your mood was completely ruined. You finished the rest of your cocktail and went in search of your "boyfriend".

You walked away from the bar, swaying slightly. You hadn't eaten properly today and had consumed a lot of alcohol on an empty stomach.

The party was in full swing, but you weren't interested in the music or the people. You found Jungkook after walking almost all the way through the hall. He was standing off to the side with Jimin and Namjoon, deep in conversation.

Without hesitation, you walked over and took Jungkook's hand, hugged him, but he barely reacted. He just looked at you briefly, as if you didn't deserve any more attention.

His indifference made you angry, but you restrained yourself with an effort of will. A deep breath, a calm expression on your face - you're playing a role, you shouldn't care about his indifference. On the contrary, you should rejoice.

You listened to their conversation in silence, trying not to pay attention to the way his hand involuntarily slipped from yours. When the waiter approached you, you took the glass of champagne from his tray without hesitation. You felt Jungkook's gaze slide over you. Namjoon and Jimin also looked at you curiously.

You quickly drained your glass and asked:

"When are we going home?"

Jimin and Namjoon laughed at the same time.

"What, so boring?" asked Namjoon with a big smile. You looked at him indifferently.

"Yes. I’ve walked enough for today." You caught Jungkook's serious look and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"We're not going home tonight. In about an hour, we're going to the yacht with the guys, and we'll be there until morning."

You bit your lip. Your head felt a little heavy from the alcohol, and the thought of staying to party until morning was exhausting. But you knew there was no point in arguing.

"Okay," you nodded briefly and noticed to the waiter who was nearby. The guy came over, kindly offering you drinks. You reached for another glass of champagne, but this time Jungkook intercepted your hand.

"That's enough," his voice was calm but firm. You looked up at him, clearly catching something like dissatisfaction in his eyes. It pissed you off. You wanted to protest, but you stopped yourself in time, catching the glances of Jungkook's friends with a peripheral glance.

"Why?" your face remained impassive, though you were irritated inside. Jungkook leaned over a little.

"You've had enough to drink." he said. His commanding tone stabbed your heart. Who was he to control how much alcohol you drank?

"I can drink as much as I want." you answered quietly, not looking away.

"But you're already wobbly," he said coldly. "You might throw up when we're on the water, so stop."

Jimin and Namjoon watched you silently, exchanging brief glances. It was obvious that they were amused by the situation.

You sighed and, not wanting to continue the argument, just backed away a step. Jungkook continued talking to his friends, and you stepped into the phone again.

If you could, you would have just walked away, but you knew: Jungkook wouldn't allow it. He had the power in this arrangement, and you couldn't just turn around and leave whenever you wanted. The phone in your hand vibrated again. Your mother was calling again.

The warm night air greeted you with a gentle breeze as you stepped out of the car at the dock. The lanterns along the Han River cast a soft light on the water, which swayed gently under the starry sky.

Taehyung's yacht (you had learned that it was his yacht from the conversation of the girls who were traveling with you) was ready to sail, its deck lights flickering in the darkness.

A small group of people was boarding the boat - besides you and Jungkook, there were Namjoon, Jimin, Hoseok, and Taehyung himself and the girls who had traveled with you. They looked as if they were used to this kind of entertainment, smiling easily and flirtatiously fixing their hair.

Jin refused to go, citing an important event at his restaurant that required preparation.

"I would go, but I need to be on site tomorrow morning," he explained before leaving. "I can't afford to relax tonight."

Yoongi left even earlier, ostensibly to take Sukhi home.

"She's been at a boutique opening event all day, she's tired," he said as he was getting ready to leave.

But you weren't sure that was the whole truth. Sukhi could have just called her driver or at least taken a taxi. Yoongi didn't seem like the kind of person who would drop everything to become a personal chauffeur.

Jungkook didn't say a word to this situation, and you were curious. There's clearly something between Yoongi and Suhy, so why doesn't she want to give up her marriage to Jungkook?

"Well, is everyone on board?" Taehyung asked loudly as he walked into the captain's cabin. "Then let's go!" he commanded the man who was steering the boat.

The engine revved up, and slowly she pulled away from the shore, heading into the dark river.

The yacht glided across the water, leaving a thin silver streak behind it. The air was cool but pleasant, and you felt your whole body relax as the waves gently lapped yacht side. The evening sounds of the city slowly disappeared in the distance.

Everyone was seated on the open deck in the center. Some sat on soft armchairs, some on the sofa. You sat on the sofa, leaving room for Jungkook. As you expected, he sat down next to you, his gaze focused on the company. He still seemed indifferent to you. But from time to time he would glance at you.

You tried to ignore it. If someone suspects that there is nothing between you, and you are like two strangers, which you were in fact, then it is not your fault. You didn't have to hang around his neck when he didn't play along.

Namjoon and Jimin started laughing as they discussed something funny that had happened at one of their recent events. Hoseok joined in, and even girls you didn't know were laughing along with them, trying to pull you into their merry company. But you had no desire to plunge into the general mood.

Taehyung was sitting in the center of the group, hugging one of the girls. He was actively participating in the conversation at the table, joking and smoking a lot. But you noticed that his eyes would occasionally slide over to Jungkook and you. And although he tried to hide it, you felt an invisible tension provoked by Taehyung's watchful gaze.

Jungkook, as if sensing your tension, put his hand on the back of the couch, behind your back, and moved closer, leaving no space between you. He was arguing with Jimin about the best modification of some engines for the bike, putting his other hand on your knee.

You looked at him, but your thoughts were far away. You suddenly thought: what are you doing? Why are you here, among these people? Why do you have to be nervous about everything? You really wanted to forget, so you took a glass of whiskey and took a drink. The alcohol burned your throat, and you swallowed, savoring the expensive alcohol.

The party on the yacht was gaining momentum. Taehyung gave the command to start the music. Loud club music hit your ears.

Jungkook went to the bathroom, and you took advantage of the moment before anyone forced you to go dancing and ran away from the company.

You went to the railing of the yacht, away from the music, to enjoy the night view of Seoul. The Han River stretched out in front of you, the lights of the city reflected on the surface of the water, and everything around you seemed so peaceful, so calm.

You stood there, gazing at the horizon, feeling your body finally relax and your thoughts become lighter. You became yourself again, as if you had found a small island of silence in the midst of all this chaos.

You didn't even notice Namjoon approaching you. When his bass broke through the silence, you even flinched in surprise.

"You decided to get away from all this noise?" he asked, smiling, and nodded his whiskey hand toward the dancing boys and girls.

"Yeah. I see you were looking for some privacy too?" you smiled back. Namjoon smiled wider and you couldn't see the dimples in his cheeks. They made him even more attractive.

"Yeah. I'm not really a fan of these kinds of parties." he admitted, leaning on the railing of the yacht, gazing out at the night landscape. You turned around too, joining in the admiration of Seoul.

"Then why did you come? You could have refused," you asked. Namjoon turned his head toward you, and you reflexively looked at him as well.

"I could have, but I decided that sometimes it's useful to maintain the illusion of a social life," he laughed, glancing at the party going on nearby.

You couldn't help but laugh, he seemed to be involved with the company from the beginning, and it turned out he tolerated them, just like you.

"The illusion of social life? Oh, it must be important for your image!" you replied, smiling.

Namjoon laughed and drank his whiskey, looking at you with a joking look.

"Of course, I can't let people think that I'm just a lonely guy suffering from deep philosophical questions alone," he raised his eyebrows again, and then, strangely enough, made a serious face. "But between you and me, I'd rather be at home with a book... or a dog."

You laughed heartily again. Namjoon seemed like a typical member of the elite environment, but in fact it turned out that he loved peace and quiet.

"Are you serious? A dog and a book are your plans for the evening?" you asked, still laughing.

"Yes, I think it's the best thing in the world." he smiled again, "Why are you here? Because Jungkook wanted that?"

You turned your head too sharply. Your smile froze and slowly left your face. Namjoon raised his eyebrows in anticipation, and took another sip the honey-colored liquid.

"No," you denied his assumption, trying to remain calm. "This is my own will. If I didn't want to be here, there's no way Jungkook could have talked me into it," you said confidently, even though it was a complete lie.

Namjoon smiled slightly, but his eyes flashed with interest.

"You wanted to go home, as I recall," he said, mockingly. You looked at him in surprise, not sure how to react to his observation.

"Yeah, but that was before I heard about the yacht," you replied, turning your gaze back to the glare of the city lights on the water.

"That's right," Namjoon agreed, "Are you and Jungkook okay? It looks like you two had a fight..." His voice became more cautious, and you noticed his eyes change expression.

"Everything's fine. Why would you think that?" you asked, trying to sound confident, even though you felt anxious inside. You knew that your coldness toward each other was obvious.

Namjoon gave you a careful look as you spoke. His interest never waned, and you braced yourself for the interrogation that was obviously unavoidable.

"I don't know…At the beginning of the evening, you were holding hands, hugging, and then you barely spoke." he explained, leaning a little closer to you. You were shocked. You thought Taehyung was the one who had been following you and Jungkook, but it was Namjoon. You turned your back to the railing and leaned in, looking at Jungkook's friends. They all seem curious about your relationship.

"Everything is fine between us. I don't know why you'd think that." you said, feigning surprise. Namjoon straightened up, standing at attention. He took another sip of whiskey.

"Then forgive me, I misinterpreted your behavior." He said kindly.

"That's okay," you replied, trying to hide the fact that his words had thrown you off a bit. You hadn't expected Namjoon to watch you so closely. But what could you do? After all, it was his business if he wanted to notice something.

Namjoon finished the rest of the alcohol and leaned back against the railing of the yacht, and looked at you with a different expression in his eyes.

"I wonder how you two met?"

You wanted to roll your eyes. Only not the 'how did you meet' question. You and Jungkook haven't worked out a version of how you met, so you're going to have to improvise. Again.

"We've known each other for a long time...through work." you said, stumbling a bit. Namjoon didn't answer right away, his gaze became even more intense, and you could feel him listening intently. He smiled, shaking his head slightly.

"Work?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought it would be a more interesting story."

You felt your chest heave with tension. You had to come up with something believable.

"Yeah," you replied, trying to sound calm, "We worked on a few projects together, and somehow we... got to know each other more." You forced a smile, even though you could feel your heart beating faster. "It's really not as interesting as you'd like."

Namjoon looked at you with some doubt, but said nothing. The silence was momentarily interrupted by the sound of music from the party, but its frantic rhythm did not touch this corner of the yacht. Namjoon didn't seem to be in a hurry to ask questions, but his interest was obvious.

"So are you guys really dating or just hanging out?"

You immediately understood his question. He was directly asking if you were Jungkook's girlfriend or his 'temporary crush'.

"We're dating," you answered decisively. "And for quite a while. We've been hiding our relationship because I asked him to."

"Why did you decide to show your relationship now?" Namjoon was inquisitive, too inquisitive. You were a little annoyed.

"It was an accident, you saw what those journalists wrote about us? I asked Jungkook to come with me to a corporate party at the company where I worked. I didn't expect journalists to be there, it was a private party." you answered.

Namjoon nodded his head.

"I see. But what about Sukhi? You know who she is? His future fiancée. Doesn't that bother you?"

You felt something tighten in your chest and smiled slightly.

"He won't marry her," you answered firmly. "As far as I know him, he's never followed his parents' wishes."

Namjoon agreed.

"Yes, you're truth. Jungkook always does what he wants. But you know, it's not that simple. I don't think he can make a decision on his own this time."

You froze. You were curious to know why everyone was so sure that this marriage was inevitable.

You were so engrossed in your conversation with Namjoon that you didn't notice that Jungkook had long since returned from the restroom and was standing off to the side, watching you closely. He stopped as soon as his eyes caught sight of your figure, just as you were laughing heartily at something Namjoon said.

His jaw tensed.

That laugh... So real. So light. And not for him.

Something sharp and sharp stabbed somewhere deep inside, under his ribcage. He couldn’t explain it rationally — had no right to feel what was now filling him from the inside. His lips pressed into a thin line; he was the one who said jealousy wasn’t allowed. That was one of the rules he himself had announced. He thought he’d never break it, but the irritation boiling in him said he already had.

Now he saw the way you looked at Namjoon, the way you smiled genuinely, the way you subconsciously tilted your head a little to the side when you were curious.

And Namjoon... he kept his eyes on you. Hell, Jungkook had noticed it from the beginning. And as soon as he disappeared from view, Namjoon was right next to you.

That shouldn't have made him angry. It wasn't supposed to got to him. But with every second he stood there, something inside him exploded.

He could not allow you to smile at someone else the way you had never smiled at him. He couldn't let anyone-even his friend-think they could take your attention away from him.

He moved toward you with a determination that betrayed his true intentions. It was no longer a simple reaction. It was a hidden possessive need.

He didn't care that you had an agreement. That it was just a deal. But in this moment it’s became personal. Because now he felt that he was losing something that was his.

And he had to prove it. To show it. To stamp his mark on you, so that everyone-everyone-could understand who you belong to. Even if it meant breaking his own rule.

And that none of the other men, not even his friends, have the right to take your attention for long. He walked decisively toward you, intent on showing you whose woman you were.

You were just about to ask Namjoon why Jungkook couldn't get out of his marriage to Sukhi, when you noticed him approaching you. His gaze was intent, and his expression was somewhat tense.

As soon as he was close, Jungkook put his arms around your waist and pulled you closer without hesitation. His presence was tangible and undeniable.

"Hope I’m not interrupting anything?" he asked with a slight tinge of sarcasm in his voice, looking at you and Namjoon.

"A little bit, Namjoon and I were having such an interesting discussion about how many interests we have in common," you lied, forcing a smile.

Jungkook seemed a little annoyed, but it didn't stop him from holding you close.

"Really? Which ones?"

You thought about it for a moment, trying to think of something that would to keep Jungkook from thinking you were talking about him and to ask other questions.

Namjoon was perfect for this moment he answered for you, distracting Jungkook's attention.

"About music, movies... stuff like that," he replied calmly, showing that the conversation was nothing important. But the tension was sense in the air, even if you all didn't show it.

Jungkook, however, did not seem satisfied with the answer. He looked at you with a scrutinizing gaze that betrayed displeasure.

"One would think that you didn't even know what you two were talking about," he said, not taking his eyes off you. He blamed you for not answering first.

You quickly pressed your lips together, trying not to show your confusion. Jungkook is strange, he's been acting cold for half the evening, and now he comes and makes accusations.

Namjoon, watching in silence, felt that he needed to leave you alone, so he quietly stepped back, smiling, and said:

"I think I will go. Don't be long. I'll be waiting for you with everyone else."

He nodded a smile and walked toward the group. Namjoon go, and you feel’s a sense of missed opportunity. But you knew for sure that you would try to catch him again and ask him why Chonguk would be doomed to marry Sukhi.

Jungkook turned you around, pulling you closer. His lips came down on yours like a storm. His tongue penetrated your mouth, finding yours and terrorizing it relentlessly. You barely had the ability to respond to the kiss because Jungkook had completely taken control of you.

You wanted to pull away, taking a step back, but you were immediately pressed against the railing. You could feel the cold metal on your body, as well as Jungkook's palms squeezing your flesh.

His kiss was hard and insistent. You could taste whiskey on his tongue, which was not letting you rest.

You tried to cope with this kiss, but your heart was beating wildly, and all your thoughts were jumbled. Your hands instinctively tried to push him away, but he wouldn't let you. His fingers gently but firmly wrapped around your wrist, pinning your arms to the railing, only deepening the kiss. The feel of his body, his weight, the pressure on your lips... You felt your heart sink in your chest.

He was so insistent that you couldn't even remember the last time you felt such a lack of control over the situation. All you could do was accept his game.

"Jungkook..." you barely managed to wheeze out as he pulled away for a moment to catch your eyes with his piercing gaze. His breathing was heavy and steady, but his eyes were so thirsty that you could barely gather your thoughts.

"Is this how you play now? You didn't know how to get my attention, so you decided to make me jealous?" asked Jungkook, speaking directly into your lips. Your eyes darted around. You tried to analyze his words.

"I didn't mean to make you jealous. I just wanted to be alone, and Namjoon came over and we started talking..."

Jungkook put his finger on your lips, stopping you from finishing.

"You made me violated the rule. I have to return the favor." he filled your mouth again. You were giving up with every passing second. The wetness between your legs leaked onto your underwear. The throbbing in your upper thighs signaled that you needed more.

While you were trying to find the strength to respond, his hand had already gripped your wrist and the next moment he pulled you down with him.

He didn't hesitate to decide that right now you had to pay for making him jealous. You didn't have the strength to object, your thoughts were already confused. Jungkook quickly led you through the corridors, and soon you were on the lower deck. It was quiet here, only the soft echo of his footsteps as he led you.

Not a word, just the pressure of his hand on your arm, which seemed to be at his will. He dragged you to the restroom on the lower deck.

Jungkook closed the door behind him, and without giving you a chance to comprehend the situation, he attacked you with a kiss, unable to contain his anger. His fingers found your buttocks and squeezed them hard, showing you his intentions.

His breath was hot, his lips ruthlessly tearing the space between you, as if he couldn't stand a second without your skin. Your body collided with the countertop where the sink was located, and you felt his hands slide down your thighs, leaving no space between you.

He pulled away from you and you were both breathing heavily. He took your hand and leaned against his hard cock.

"See what you do?" you unconsciously squeezed your fingers, feeling your desire grow exponentially. You forgot that you had told Jungkook that nothing else would happen between you. Now you could only think about this moment. Jungkook felt his cock twitch.

"I..." you wanted to say something, but Jungkook had undone the button and fly of his white jeans. He took your hand in his again, but this time he buried it in his boxers.

You felt his hot flesh, and you just stopped to exist. You felt the sperm dripping from the tip of his cock, which you stroked.

Jungkook slipped his hand out of his boxers and pulled them down along with his jeans. His aroused cock came free and you could pump it freely. Jungkook took your face in his palm and smiled. His eyes were full of lust and pleasure. He kissed you and you couldn't stop moaning into his mouth.

While he was kissing you, his other hand found your pants. He slid his hand underneath them without any obstacles, finding your clit.

Now it was his turn to moan into your mouth. The amount of moisture he felt between your legs was literally making him crazy.

He ran his fingers over your clit a few times and then pushed his fingers then into your passage. Feeling very excited, you were confused for a moment. You stopped jerking off his cock, and Jungkook intercepted your hand. He put his palm on top of yours and continued to move. You smiled into his lips. He manages to do many things at once.

Jungkook plunged his fingers into your passage, but you were not satisfied. You wanted more, you could barely hold on.

He leaned his hand on the wide tabletop, and bent down close to your face. You pumped his cock, wanting to bring him to bliss. His cock was getting harder by the second.

"Do you want me to fuck you right now?" Jungkook asked, breathing heavily. His voice, low with excitement, filled every cell in your body. Yes. You wanted to.

You licked your dry lips, dragging out an answer. Jungkook let out a low moan, pleased with your handiwork.

"Tell me kitten." he demanded, "Do you want to feel my cock inside you?"

His finger at that moment went as deep into you as it was possible, as if deliberately teasing you. Because the friction of his fingers was not enough.

"Yes," you finally breathed out. "I want."

Jungkook smiled with a triumphant expression. He knew you did.

"You want..." he repeated, pulling his fingers out of your passage. He found your swollen clit and wanted to feel it on his tongue. "But you forgot... you have to beg at first."

You heard what he was saying, but you couldn't stop yourself. You were too excited. His fingers, which had been caressing your clit so well, made you want to give up. You wanted to feel his cock, and knowing how good it felt, you were ready to beg.

"Please..." you said as you exhaled. Jungkook stopped your hand from jerking him off. You opened your eyes wide, not expecting him to stop you. He kept your hands on his aroused cock and said softly.

"Please what honey?"

"Fuck me..." you begged. Jungkook hummed. He took your cheeks with his other hand, squeezing them lightly.

"Beg me better." he insisted.

"Please Kook... I want to... fuck... me." you stammered as you felt him bring you to orgasm. You were just moments away, but he abruptly pulled out the hand he had been caressing you with. He lifted his fingers to your mouth.

"Open your mouth." he ordered. You blinked, but obeyed. You barely had time to open your lips when he shoved his fingers into your mouth.

You tasted your own excitation. Jungkook watched greedily as you sucked on his fingers with your own cum. He pulled his fingers out and kissed you, filling your mouth with his tongue. Your tongues smashed against each other. He kissed you dominantly, wanting to take away the last drops of your sanity.

When Jungkook enjoyed the taste of your kiss, he pulled away for a short while. You were breathing fast, feeling so wet that the moisture could seep into your jeans.

Jungkook took off your pants. In one steady motion, he set you down on the surface near the sink. Your body pressed against the cold marble, but his hands were hot. Hotter than ever.

"I told you you'd beg me." he said as he spread your legs. He took his aroused cock in his hand and pushed aside the fabric of your thong and pressed it against your wet pussy. "I really wasn't going to touch you today," he whispered, taking in every detail of your face. His large palm cupped your hip, not allowing you to move. "But you made me do it. That's why I'm going to fuck you... like the real whore." he slammed his cock into your pussy, eliciting a soft whimper.

It's just crazy. Jungkook and his ability to get you off without even sticking his cock in you.

"But I can't help but feel that sweet clit on my tongue."

His head went down, and the very next moment you felt his hot lips touch the inside of your thigh. He was leaving marks. Possessive, predatory, ruthless. Your back arched and your fingers dug into the edge of the surface.

His kisses grew deeper. He slid his tongue over your skin, leaving trails of fire. His breath burned your inner thighs as he slowly removed your underwear.

You couldn't hold back any longer - his every action made you shudder. There were no more thoughts in your head. Only sensations. His mouth. His fingers. His boundless need to show you that he was the only one who belonged to you.

"Come on, give me everything you've got," he whispered, and his tongue gently touched your center.

You gasped for air. One long, wet stroke of his tongue made your hips shudder. He knew how to bring you to the brink - and at the same time keep you there, not letting you fall. His tongue worked rhythmically, never stopping. He kept you spread, his strong arms holding you in place, not letting you escape from this sweet madness.

"So delicious," he whispered, licking you even deeper. "I didn’t realize how much I missed this pussy."

His tongue alternated between gentleness and boldness until your back arched. Your fingers sank into his hair, your lips trembled.

"Damn..."

He smiled, continuing to caress you with his tongue until you shuddered beneath him, melting into his mouth with a soft moan. But he didn't stop.

"I'm not done," he grunted as he rose. He pulled you to the edge of the surface and took his aroused cock in his hands. It was hard and you felt him gently touch you, rubbing himself into your wetness. Jungkook stared at your face, catching every emotion.

"Do you regret making this rule? When I fucking you, you'll finally realize that your rule sucks. And don't you dare tell me after we have sex that it still applies. I'll fuck you as much as I want."

You nodded, barely understanding his words. A moment of protest flashed through your mind, but you wanted Jungkook so badly that you would go along with anything.

"You understand me?" he asked, pressing the head of his cock against your entrance. You squeezed his shoulders, waiting for him to enter.

"Yes..." you confirmed.

"So you let me fucking you while we have an agreement?" he asked, somehow more gently.

"Yes, Kook..." you agreed. You didn't even want to think about the consequences of your actions right now. You would scold yourself later, but right now you didn't think about anything.

He entered you in one deep thrust. Rough. Filling you to the brim. Hugging your body from the inside. It hurt you. You shuddered from the wave of bliss. His hands grabbed you around the waist again, pressing you against him, making you feel every movement. He moved rhythmically, with a persistence that burned him from the inside.

"Fuck, that feels so good..." you whispered, losing your voice in each thrust. Jungkook finally smiled. He could feel your velvet walls squeezing him so tightly.

His movements became faster, deeper, more frantic. He bit into your shoulder, leaving a mark, a mark. His body was beating against yours, making you dissolve in this passionate dance. But he wanted to feel you from a different angle.

Jungkook pulled his cock out of you and set you down on the floor. He turned you around to face the sink. As he was bending you over to have easy access to your hole, you managed to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were red, your hair was disheveled, and your lips were swollen.

You rested your hands on the surface. Jungkook entered you again, this time more smoothly. He plunged as deeply as he could. He pressed into you as much as he could and you felt him turn on in the middle. Jungkook stroked your thighs. Then he leaned down putting his hand then on your throat. He slowly lifted you up, pressing his strong body against your back. You threw your head back, touching his shoulder.

Jungkook lifted your top, exposing your breasts. He grabbed them in his hands and squeezed them several times, satisfying his need. You moaned at his movements, at the feel of his cock in your middle.

Jungkook leaned down to your neck and bit into your skin, tightening it. You felt a slight pain, and there would be a mark there, but Jungkook didn't seem to care. He suddenly moved his hips, pulling away from your neck.

"I'll go crazy if I can't fuck that perfect pussy anymore." He whispered against your cheek. He repeated the movement with his hips.

"Kook..." you said his name. You only called him that when you were having sex. You wanted to call him that because boundaries in those moments, between your neighbor and partner-in-agreement were blurred. Jungkook liked it so much. Coming from your mouth, this contraction did not sound so cute and exciting.

Jungkook couldn't wait any longer. He's going to nailed you at last. He bent you over and gave you a few deep rhythmic thrusts and you moaned with pleasure. He drove himself rhythmically and wanted to bring you to orgasm.

You were sensitive, already pushed to the edge earlier. So it didn’t take long before the knot of bliss snapped — just within moments. You were so sweet in your climax, so trembling, so completely his… that Jungkook couldn’t hold back either.

His final thrusts grew deeper. Rougher. And he released inside you with a heavy moan, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

Both your breaths were ragged. His forehead rested against your shoulder as his body slowly stopped.

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thefrontmanscockwarmer · 5 months ago

Text

Teacher’s Pet (p2)

Player 001 x reader [SMUT] 📖

Masterlist <- comment here to be added to the Taglist

Part 1

Note: reader is 18, senior in high school. We do not promote underage sex on this page.

Texts: you’re pink, he’s blue

In Ho pulled up to his own apartment. Looking over to the seat you once sat in. Now, empty, nothing but the ghost of you there. He could see you in his mind, when he closed his eyes. Your smile, your kind gaze, your hair flowing around in the wind from the open window. He looked down to his soiled pants. The idea of you so overwhelming he just had to cum.

“I’m so gross” he said aloud. Fallen? For my student? How cliche. He thought to himself as he exited his car. Really In Ho, how more bookish could you be? He let out a sigh as he started to grab some trash from the floor as he did every Friday. Blue ink catching his eye, hand writing that wasn’t his.

“That girl” he smiled and shook his head, stuffing it into his pocket. Tossing the trash and grabbing his items, walking up the stairs.

Hours later he sat watching TV and grading papers. Your number teasing his eyes as he begged himself not to dive down into this rabbit hole. To not dive head first into you. Trouble at every step.

‘Hey, I think you meant to leave your number for someone else’ he wrote in the message bar. Your phone dinged as you laid lazily in bed, listening to music. You smiled as you rolled over to see a text.

‘No… I wouldn’t leave my number around for just anyone’ you type back.

‘How do you know I’m not a dangerous man?’ The messenger wrote back. You were into this mysterious facade he was putting on. He smiled on the other end, daring himself to continue.

‘Dangerous? The face of danger weeps when it senses my presence…’

‘A beautiful girl as you? I can bet you are indeed a presence to be bowed upon setting sights on. William Shakespeare writes about beauties such as you, I never believe he could possibly be telling the truth. But yet, I stood in from of my Juliet and dared to the a rose in her direction’ he wrote back. He cringed at his own writing. Too strong. I should’ve been light and fun. He face palmed, I’m so stupid.

You smiled at the message, saving it in your memory forever. A squeal escaping your lips. ‘Then do I dare call you Romeo? Or shall you be my Gomez and I be your Morticia’ you were practically drooling now.

His own mouth hung open in a smile. Your response lightening his heart. ‘We shall be whoever you’d like us to be as long I call myself yours and you as mine’ he replied. His heart palpitated with every word of yours he read. He eagerly awaited your response, he was desperate to, would you have me? Can I be yours? He begged to question. ‘Then Gomez and Morticia we shall be. Death got to Romeo and Juliet too early and I believe we deserve something more immortal’

Your heart jumped in your chest. He was asking to be yours, he wanted you as his. Though, it could be just romantical literature talk, nothing. You shrugged, nonetheless, the man you had been desiring since the beginning of Sophomore year was texting you.

He stared at your text. Immortal love he repeated a million times over in his head. ‘I’d love to invite you out but I am afraid we cannot be too public. Though, if I could brandish you proudly, I would.’ Your heart dropped as the solid reality hit you. You couldn’t be go out socially. ‘I don’t mind the idea of private loving, takeout and movie dates are cheaper anyway’ you said.

‘Private loving? Hmm sounds… scandalous’ he typed. ‘Dare I ask what that includes’ he said. Your heart fluttered at the text. ‘It includes you, me, and a bedroom’ you tossed your phone across the bed. Eyes wide at your own words. He was definitely gonna cut you off. Back to just being a student helplessly in love with a man you couldn’t have.

He stared at your text, his own eyes wide and glassy. His cock hardening in his pants. Sex. Love making. Fucking, you. His body on overdrive. He called you. Your phone rang, his contact name on the screen, you shook as you picked it up.

“H-hello” you say into the receiving end.

“(Y/n)” he spoke softly. “The way you have my cock straining in my pants is insane” he said breathlessly. Your stomach dropped at his words, butterflies erupted in your pussy immediately heating up and salivating over the idea of his dick.

“I’m sorry” was all you could force out.

“No. Don’t be.” In Ho responded, pulling himself out.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m throbbing for you” you say as you snake your hand down into your shorts. Rubbing circles on your clit.

“Are you really?” He said in almost a groan. His cock dripping with precum, his stomach fluttering with excitement. He stroke himself slowly. The forbidden ideas of you wrapped around him and begging for him to move faster playing in his mind.

“I really am… when would we be able to hang out?” You ask. Entering a finger inside your pussy slowly. Holding back a moan as you did. Imagining his cock inside you as he spoke,

“We can hang out whenever… tonight, tomorrow, whenever you’d like. It’s not a problem.” He said, trying to sound as normal as possible as his hand made fast work on his cock. “We can stay at my apartment, or your house. I’d be more than happy getting you a hotel”

“We can really do whenever. My house is always empty, my mom’s always working or cheating on my dad with her athletic trainer, and my dad is doing the same but with some secretary from his job. They seldomly come home” you responded. You were two fingers deep and arching into your own touch, pressing expertly on your g-spot as you fucked yourself.

“Oh that’s-“ he paused to breathe. His cock pulsating in his hand, his orgasm threatening to explode from his cock. “That’s terrible”

“Not for us” you say slyly. Your walls began contracting around your fingers. “Hey, Mr. Hwang?”

“Call me In Ho” he replied. Holding his breath as his heart sobbed to hear you say his name.

“In Ho… I should tell you now,” you began to say. “I’m a virgin” an audible groan left him. Your eyes widening at the realization that he was masturbating. The delicious idea making you impossibly wetter.

“I’ll be gentle, (y/n). I promise” he spoke. A small moan escaped your lips and made it to his ears. A wide grin spread across his face. “(Y/n), are you… playing with yourself?” Your breath hitched in your throat at the question.

“Y-y-yes” you say quietly. “A-are you?”

“Please don’t be scared to moan for me. You’ll make me finish” he said. He was already on the brink of exploding. He ran a finger over his tip, a deep inhale at the feeling.

Your heart was beating at twice its pace. Your bpm well over normal rate. You fucked yourself, letting your small moans escape your lips. His cock ached to be relieved.

“You sound so beautiful” he told you. “Will you cum for me, (y/n)?” He asked. You let out a strained and quiet yes. Confirmation that you were close. “I need to hear you say it, please” he begged.

“I’m going to cum for you.” You respond your head thrown back, moans and squeaks escaped from your lips as you did. You listened to his groans. The sound of his voice filling the quiet void of your room.

“Oh god” he grunted. Laying his head back on the couch as he moved faster. “I’m gonna cum, (y/n)” You were panting like a dog in heat, your orgasm was just a few pulls away.

“M-m-me t-too” you said in strained breathes. Your whimpering filling his ears.

“Cum for me. Cum for me, pretty girl” he coaxed. “Be a good girl” you let out a string of moans as you released on your hand, grinding your hips up to seek more friction. He pushed his orgasm through, finally allowing himself to cum. His cum spurted out in thick strands on his shirt. Little flecks hit his face. You laid in bed as you came down from your high.

“Date tomorrow?” You asked suddenly, basking in the afterglow

“Thai takeout and movies?” He asks as he basked in the last moment. Your moans replaying over again.

“Scary movies.” You say quizzically.

“Of course” he smiled. “You are a girl after my own heart. I have all the scary movies you can think of on disc” he said proudly.

“Even the Halloween series?”

“How could I not?” He chuckled. You guys talked for hours.

“I’m going to shower” you told him. “I can keep you on the phone or I can call you back?” You say unsure.

“Either is fine” he replies, hoping you would keep him on the phone.

“I’ll just keep you on the phone” you say.

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dearsnow · 1 year ago

Text

SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT (WITH YOUR FISTS FOR ONCE)

- you and bradley had always been attached at the hip until life pulled him away. when you’re finally living in the same place again, your unspoken feelings come to the surface during a san diego bonfire. (bradley “rooster” bradshaw x gn!reader, reader is characterized as someone who doesn’t like much attention, jealousyyyyyyyyy, pining & arguments but fluff at the end, ⚠️ mentions of alcohol / weed)

word count: 2,500

a/n - it’s so entertaining to come up with synonyms for kissing 😭 anyways, enjoy this, and listen to american teenager by ethel cain. oh and i was also so tempted to make the girl mickey in a wig, but i held back.

Bradley Bradshaw likes you. He’d go as far as to say he loves you, if he was being honest. He’s never said it, though, not in that way.

When you first met, he was pulled to you like a magnet. It was preschool, and he never left your side. He made macaroni portraits of you and you crafted tiny little friendship bracelets for him. Neither of you could speak well, or write well, but you stuck together anyways.

Your first written words were each other’s names.

Everything snowballed from there, but he couldn’t say he was mad at it.

You were so entirely different, but that’s what made it good, in his opinion. He always needed eyes on him, not for any pretentious ego-boosting reasons, but because it made him thrive. You tended to hide in the shadows. When you gave your eyes to him, and him to you, it was like the most natural thing in the world.

He was the classic class clown type all throughout middle and high school, with a football jersey and everything. When you came to his games, he swore he played a million times better, and you were happy to indulge in his superstition.

You like him, too. You’d go as far as to say you love him, if you’re being honest. You might’ve said it if he hadn’t been so clearly your platonic life partner. You would follow him, as toddlers, with his shirt edge balled in your small fist. You tried to draw him more times than you could count, but it always looked wrong, like you couldn’t really capture the life that he held so deeply in his eyes. You even considered joining the cheerleading squad for him, but you would’ve cringed under the gaze of the crowd.

When he left for the navy, and for college, and for anything after that, you wished you could bounce across the United States with him. Instead, you wrote him letters; copious amounts of them.

One thing that you both never dared to cross was the bounds of friendship. He would hold your hand, his thumb smoothing over the side of your fist, and there was nothing romantic about it. God, you wished it was, though.

Now that you’ve moved to San Diego, following him one last time, you beg whatever makes the rules to break them just once.

You walk up behind a broad-shouldered man you barely recognize and tap him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I seem to be lost. Could you direct me to a man named Bradley? I believe his call sign is something silly, like ‘duck’.”

He whips around, sunglasses and mustache entirely new to you. He speaks your name in a breathy whisper, like he’s afraid his words will break if he says them too loud. “You’re here? Like actually?”

You’ve barely replied before you’re wrapped in a hug, feet lifted off the ground and body spun around so many times you think you might be sick. “Geez, Brad, put me down!”

He sets you down gently, holding out an arm for stability as you collect your bearings. “Sorry, sorry. I just can’t believe I’m seeing your face after all this time.” You’re even more breathtaking than he remembers.

San Diego has done him well, you reckon. His gold-tinted skin holds a deeper sense of warmth, now, even though he has always run hot. “You better get used to it. I have a fancy new apartment now, so I’m here to stay.”

His face holds a beaming grin, and the whole world falls away. “Thank god, I was beginning to think I’d be stuck here with just my coworkers.” He doesn’t even notice how you look at him with lovesick eyes.

After two months of San Diego, you say the one thing you thought you would never say: “I’m so sick of the sun.”

It’s midday, and you’re prepping for a Fourth of July bonfire party on the beach. The sun is beating down on your back, forcing you to scamper into the ocean every once in a while. Bradley is right beside you, wheeling yet another cooler onto the sand. “If I wasn’t worried about our shit being stolen, I’d suggest we abandon it and let Jake do all the work.”

You laugh. Jake was the one who suggested the whole bonfire, but, of course, he was “too busy” to help set up. You don’t mind doing the work. If it was an opportunity for you to be beside Bradley, you’d do anything. You’d even brave the burning ball of gas in the sky.

As you work, the sun disappears quickly.

By this point, after over two decades of friendship, you’ve lost a bit of that hope that pushed you to follow Brad in the first place. You know he’s attractive, and every woman in the world seems to know it too. What you didn’t know is that you’re pretty damn attractive too. As you’ve told yourself, you prefer to keep the attention off of you.

So, as the sun’s last dying rays scatter over the cooling sand, you pretend not to notice the women ogling your best friend.

The bonfire is great. Amazing, even. The flames reach high into the sky and the smell of smoke permeates the air; everything is cast in this sort of hazy glow, highlighting tanned skin and bright swimsuits. There’s also a woman chatting up Bradley, touching his arm flirtatiously, but you push that to the back of your mind. Instead, you’re focused on the guy in front of you, even when her giggle sends a ball of spikes into your heart.

He’s tall, a little on the skinny side, with tousled black hair and a puka shell necklace. Sand clings to his sandaled feet. He hands you a beer, which you tell yourself you won’t drink much of. You’ve already had a bit too much.

“So, know anyone here?” He asks. He’s eyeing you with a certain ferocity that you don’t notice, his gaze raking up and down your body.

You pop the can open and take a small sip. “Yeah. I know Bradshaw, and the rest by association.” You gesture to Jake and Natasha, who are arguing over a beach volleyball. You almost smile at the way she jabs him in the ribs, making him double over just enough for her to steal what’s so carefully held in his hands. The guy nods.

“I don’t. I’m here for the vibes, y’know?” He takes a step closer, and you notice he smells like smoke and something deeper, like perfumed weed. “And the pretty people.”

You shift in your place. “Have you found what you’re looking for?” You’re almost teasing now, completely missing the hunger in the way he licks his lips. Maybe you’re a little drunk, or maybe you’re just enjoying how someone seems to be giving you the longing looks you so sorely crave. It’s one night, you figure. You won’t ever see him again. What’s wrong with a little good-natured flirting?

“Absolutely.” He murmurs, reaching forward. His hand connects with the back of your neck, his breath cascading over your face, and your eyes flutter shut— before you’re yanked backwards by an arm around your waist.

You stumble. “What the hell?” You curse, colliding with a hard, warm chest. You drop your beer in the sand as you fall back. It’s Bradley, and he looks furious. “Brad, are you kidding me?”

“Come here.” His voice is lethally quiet and sharp as a knife. Your mind is reeling as you follow him a few paces closer to the fire, but a hot pool of anger sits in your stomach.

“Are you being serious right now? What in the world were you thinking?” You hiss. You look up at his tight-lipped face, utterly stoic in the light behind him.

“I’m not letting you kiss that piece of shit.”

“Who are you to decide who I kiss?” You’re so, so mad. So mad you could punch someone, but that would probably hurt you more than the person your fist connects with. Bradley just intervened in the one thing you thought he would never intervene in. You’ve let him swap spit with girls you’ve never seen before, and now he’s over here acting like you kissing one guy is the epitome of nastiness?

He scoffs. “You didn’t even notice, did you? That he was eyeing you like a piece of meat? God, he reeks of weed and swamp ass, too. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I could have the once in a lifetime opportunity to make out with a perfectly attractive guy without someone interrupting.” Your arms are crossed, but you feel a lump forming in your throat. In your mind, that really was a once in a lifetime opportunity. It’s not like you go out of your way to meet people, and the people you’ve met have never even slyly complimented you. You’re not the type that gets dates or drinks sent your way or anything more than platonic. Currently, platonic is staring you in the face with the rage of a thousand suns behind his eyes.

“Make out with Bob or Nat, I don’t care. At least they won’t undress you with their fuckboy blue eyes. Even Bagman is a better choice.”

“You don’t get to decide those things— friends don’t get to decide those things. I mean, I didn’t throw a hissy fit when you were openly flirting with that girl.” In the back of your mind, you know he’s right. You know that your stomach dropped when the guy leaned closer to you, and that your kicked-down self esteem made him out to be a whole lot more attractive than he probably (definitely) was.

Bradley runs a hand through his already slightly messy hair, sighing like he’s regretting ever hitting you with a sand pail in preschool. “I at least get to decide when to save you from creeps and when to leave your love life alone. Trust me, you were in more danger than I ever was.”

“I reiterate, friends don’t get to decide those things.” He can see the insecurity swimming in your beautiful eyes. Yeah, you’re definitely at least somewhat drunk. You’d never argue with him like this if you weren’t. You’re also more than a little mad, and disgusted with yourself, and disappointed with your lack of charisma, and so jealous of the girl he probably tangled tongues with.

“What do I have to be, then, to get it through your thick skull? You know I love you. I’m just looking out for you.” His voice is softer, now, and sweeter, dripping from his mustache like honey.

He reaches out, and you cringe away. Love. It’s a word unspoken, one that’s been lingering on your mind since the day in seventh grade when he suddenly became attractive to you. Like most things, you assume it’s friendly. “Do you really love me if this is what you’re pulling? Say it like you mean it, Bradshaw.”

“I love you.” He states, taking your hands in his. This time, as you try to pull yourself from his grip, he holds on. “I love you.” He says again. It holds a certain weight that gets your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. He’s firm but gentle, and he can feel the years of unspoken feelings bubbling on the tip of his tongue.

That’s when the guy from before decides to approach, sliding a hand uncomfortably down your waist. “I think you interrupted us, dude.”

Bradley drops your hands, and before the man can grab you even lower, he’s getting decked in the face.

He collapses to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose and cursing like a bitch. “Fuck you, what the fuck! Fuckin’ Navy piece of fucking shit.” You raise your hand to your mouth as he scrambles to get away. His blood leaves a scarlet trail of droplets in the sand.

“Bradley…”

“I just want you to be safe.” He mutters, like he didn’t just punch someone in the face for you. “I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way, romantically, but I can’t stand seeing you with guys that aren’t as smart or good-looking as one fraction of your pinky toe.”

You reach up to his jaw, carefully, gingerly, before pressing your lips to his.

Like a scene from a movie, Fourth of July fireworks explode behind you, not unlike the fireworks going off in your mind. He has one hand on your waist and one hand on the back of your head, and neither make you even the slightest bit uncomfortable. It’s Bradley, and he makes you feel like the safest person in the world.

Your lips are soft, so soft. Bradley can practically hear his heart pounding in his ears as his body finally takes in the moment he’s been dreaming about his entire life. When you pull away, he misses the feeling, like the lost puzzle piece of his heart was stolen as soon as it was put back.

“You think my pinky toe is smart and good-looking?” You place a hand on his bare chest, teasing. He gives you the grin you’ve come to adore.

“Every part of you is. That’s why I love you.”

“I love you too. For more than your pinky toe, of course.”

“Oh,” he says, suddenly conscious of the self-satisfied look you shoot her, “y’know that girl I was talking to?” You raise your eyebrows questioningly as he nods his head at her. She sends a little wave, in which you notice a sparkling ring on her finger. “That, my love, is Reuben’s wife.”

You feel your heart sink to your feet as the embarrassment sets in, your cheeks growing warmer than the fire. You mouth a quiet “sorry” at her and she laughs, shooing your apology away with a gentle sweep of her hand.

“Is that why you went after Mr. Broken nose?” Bradley whispers in your ear. “That’s one hell of a way to make me jealous.”

You crinkle your nose as your face flushes impossibly warmer. “Not everything has an ulterior motive, Bradshaw.”

He looks perfect in this lighting, and to him, so do you. You can hardly believe that decades of friendship and tension and wishing led to this slightly improbable moment. You’re honestly glad you almost kissed a stranger.

“Yeah, but you’d best believe I do.”

He takes your hand in his and drops to one knee. Everyone turns to look at him, but for once, the only eyes that matter are yours. “Will you do me the honor of letting me be your lawfully appointed boyfriend?” You smile so wide you think your cheeks might split. You join him in the sand, holding his face in your hands and kissing his cheek.

“You really did mean it, huh, Brad?”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“Yes. It’s a definite, no-questions-asked, yes.”

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