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almostempty · 3 months ago

Text

Kick and Scream

Self Esteem Part 3

Pairing: fuckboy!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel catches you on a date and communicates how he feels about it (the only way he knows how).

Warnings: fuckboy!Joel, dub con, smut, pwp, unprotected piv sex, fingering, creampie, dirty talk, public sex, blow job, reader is still sippin' on some dumb bitch juice for Joel (me), jealous!joel, possessive!joel, emotionally manipulative but sexually proficient Joel, toxic breadcrumbing Joel fucks, smash and dash, no use of y/n, AU no outbreak, special guest appearance by date night dave, OOC Dave bc I don’t know that man so I made him single, rich, hot, and pervy idc idc idc, more i might be forgetting rn,

Notes: please leave feedback! open to constructive criticism or delusional inspiration

Thanks: to EVERYONE who read part 1 and 2, but ESPECIALLY @auteurdelabre for inspiring, I hope you enjoy it bb. I'll try to tag those who specifically asked for more brb, and @strangergraphics

WC: 9.3K (idk it got long and horny heheh)

AO3: HERE | Masterlist: Here

Part 1: Self Esteem

Part 2: Want You Bad

Part 4: The more you suffer

You stare down at the hand that just landed on your thigh, cocking your head in assessment. You can feel the scowl tugging at the corners of your mouth. As you work out what expression you should paste onto your face instead, the man sitting next to you seems unbothered. Maybe even encouraged? He continues his lecture about the benefits of indoor rock climbing. You sigh, staring across the park as he continues without pausing to breathe.

You watch the couples milling around the park, wondering if that’s what you look like with this guy's hand on your leg. You stare back down at it, his long fingers shifting slightly as he continues his animated speech. Sweat beads at the back of your neck, and you feel fidgety. Trapped under the weight of his limp hand. He doesn’t seem to notice when you squirm and readjust. He’s circled back to his earlier lecture about how you just have to learn to play an instrument. If he’d let you get a word in, you could verify that you already do, but he seems to prefer the sound of his own voice.

This guy should get a podcast. The kind where a guy with a microphone talks to himself for three hours about whatever he wants. He’d crush it. You laugh to yourself, unintentionally encouraging him with your smile. He’s not not good-looking. But you’d prefer someone interested in asking you at least one question.

You stifle a laugh at the intrusive thought of taking him home and stripping his clothes off while he prattles on about amateur bird-watching, sorry–birding, or unicycling.

Eventually, you extricate yourself from the disappointing date, accept an awkward hug, and turn down dinner. You haven’t left the parking lot yet when your phone buzzes.

Unsaved number: had a great time with u

Unsaved number: would love to see u again :)

It’s not that your skin crawls, but it is a full-body no.

You: thanks, I’m glad I got to know you more

It’s not technically a lie. You’re glad you learned he’s not a fit for you. You feel okay about leaving it at that for now. You watch the sunset from your parking spot. The park is filled with couples laying on blankets being romantic. You roll your eyes at them and then at yourself for being bitter. Your phone buzzes again, and you wince, hoping it’s not your long-winded date again. It’s not.

Joel: what you doing?

Fucking Miller. You scoff aloud in the private space of your front seat. By now, he should be on your blocked list, but the quick hit of euphoria that floods through your bloodstream, warming your cheeks, keeps you hooked. He’s a filthy drug that blinds you from logic or survival instincts. Your eyes dart to the pedestrians in the parking lot. Worried. As if the milling strangers know what you’re up to and are about to shame you. A little voice reminds you that if you feel guilty about something, you shouldn’t be doing it. You ignore that voice. Nobody in the parking lot catches on, coast clear, and you let yourself grin wide as a fool when you type your response.

Later that night, you’re grinning again. Sprawled across your couch, sweaty skin plastered to the faux leather cushions. Sated. Bought and sold on your own lie, you tell the little voice that you didn’t want Joel to stay anyway. You convince yourself some form of compromise is happening, however twisted, when he shows up and leaves you wrecked. He comes to you. You don’t have to get to know each other to make each other feel good. Whatever puts you at ease.

Sometimes it works. Some days, you feel hollow and anxious. Obsessively tapping your phone to see if he’s responded when you reach out first. Pacing around your home, stressing over whether you should stay up just in case and even in bed, you can’t help but stay alert for a knock at the door.

The cycle leaves you with dark circles under your eyes most days. But, on the mornings after Joel shows up, you have a bright twinkle in your eyes and a knowing smirk that greets you in the bathroom mirror. Katie noticed the smirk one day and called you out. She demanded an explanation for the mystery dick fairy.

You wouldn’t admit his identity to her, afraid of getting too involved with someone in her boyfriend's network. But you did admit to the toxic cycle, and your friend was not as amused as you when you tried to pass it off as a joke. She tried to convince you to look for someone to date, but you argued that wasn’t what you wanted anyway. She suggested at least someone who could commit to a plan or send a text back. You knew it didn’t sound great out loud.

As the days of summer crawl along, you wonder if she’s right. At least, it was worth considering. It’s a feeble attempt to smother your spiraling thoughts about Joel. Still, when you start getting messages from the dating app Katie chose for you, it gives you something to interrupt your racing thoughts. At first. Somehow, it starts to feel even worse. Ignoring the sinking feeling you get when it isn’t Joel’s name in your notifications gets more challenging.

You had accepted that it was a lost cause to plan anything with him, but you still can’t find the self-respect to turn him away when he shows up at your door. Sometimes, he sends you a grammatically inconsiderate text. You wonder if he somehow has a cell phone plan that still charges him by the message with the way he uses as few words as possible.

He never stays. Never invites you to his. He evades any predictable behavior. Maybe he’s worried someone ordered a hit on him. Maybe that’s all it is, you muse. Not a contracted kill. The unpredictability. Chaos. That’s what makes him addictive. The brightness of the highs makes you temporarily forget the darkest lows exist. That, and the dirty little thoughts that pour from his mouth and drip into your psyche. That stupid, sexy voice burning into your memory, yeah, that’s definitely addictive. You snort at that. I am unwell, you think. As you pick up your phone again, you see a message from someone new.

\\\///

Heat radiates off your face as you fling another shirt across the room. You’ve tried on the same three outfits over and over again. Ripping them over your head and tossing them into the pile of laundry purgatory. Maybe sweating and mouth-breathing is a turn-on for your date; if so, you’re gonna nail the first impression. You sigh and commit to option two: the little black dress. A classic, right?

“Shit,” you curse at yourself when you stumble while attempting to pull your shoes on as you walk down the hall. This is what you get for agreeing to a late evening date on a weeknight; you feel like a mess. Scrambling to play it cool and classy, you pause to recalibrate before opening the door. What was his name? You can’t remember. He didn’t look like your usual type, but Katie had convinced you to branch out a little. More specifically, she told you it was a green flag already if he wasn’t your type.

You swing the door open, hoping he introduces himself first. He looks expensive. The dark-washed denim, the boots, the jacket, and the watch. Like he walked out of an ad campaign for a brand out of your budget. Dave. He does introduce himself, thankfully. He’s more clean-cut than your usual type, but he speaks confidently and gives off an air of put-togetherness that intrigues you. His voice definitely stirs the butterflies in your stomach.

Oh. You realize you’ve definitely been busy staring at him and have no idea what he actually said with his sultry bedroom voice. Your eyes widen a little. You don’t wanna fuck this up and embarrass yourself. Luckily, he seems unbothered. He tilts his head with a seductive half-smile. He’s enjoying the way you assess him. That definitely does it for you. Stupid, smug men making you weak in the knees.

“You ready?” he asks, voice all smoky for no good reason.

“Yeah,” you manage to say as you recall how to speak and act human. Until you see his luxury car waiting for you. He clocks your beat of hesitance.

“Good.”

His authoritative voice flips the right switch in you, and you let him lead. When he opens the door for you, it’s like the final component of his spell. You are bewitched. Under a thick veil, you didn’t even notice the truck that rolled by as you sank into the leather seat. You didn’t notice when the truck pulled over up the block, idling noisily on the quiet street. No, you were busy, focused on manually breathing and taking in what you’d describe as the interior of a spaceship.

The good news is that Dave is charming. He is easy to talk to as he drives. Flirty and quick-witted. He asks you questions and pauses to consider your responses. You aren’t sure you have much in common, but you like his self-assured demeanor.

When you walk into the club he’s brought you to, you hesitate once again, feeling underdressed. The club is split with a lounge on one side of the bar–full of intimate booths and plush chairs surrounding tiny tables and trendy mood lighting. Kind of like a swanky hotel lobby, you decide. On the other side of the bar is a dance floor, dimly lit with loud music blasting. Women in bodycon dresses and heels fill the room. You feel plain in comparison.

“I didn’t know there was a dress code,” you mutter.

“There isn’t,” Dave asserts, “besides, you look good in this.” He accentuates his statement by running his hand down your spine. It settles some of your nerves and lights up others. He ushers you, hand on your lower back, towards a small booth. And as you settle in, he’s undeniably charismatic. Dave doesn’t reveal much about himself but keeps you laughing and seems genuinely interested in you.

Despite the loud music and people noise, it’s easy to feel like the room is only for you and him. You sip your drink and warm up to his affection. You’re quick to smile, and despite how serious he seems, he has a playful edge that has you on your toes.

You can taste the chemistry between you, bright and sparkling. He spurs your confidence with his dark eyes when he not so subtly lets his gaze linger on your body. You stop shying away from attention and try to bask in it instead. It boosts your ego and stirs up your desire.

When you let yourself look, really look, you decide Dave is handsome. His strong features, broad shoulders, and impeccable grooming work for him. He seems meticulous but not too uptight to have fun. A dark sense of humor flirts behind his twinkling dark eyes. You decide to let him know that you’ve determined he is a handsome man. He gives you a look. Like he already knew you thought that. Your cheeks warm slightly at that. Were you obvious?

It’s not until he peels away from you to refill your drinks that you notice how close you have been sitting. You mourn the loss of his body heat as he walks away. You had low expectations after your last few dates, but tonight, this feels different. Your eyes trail along his path to the bar, and you lazily rest your chin in your palm before your breath hitches, and you freeze.

You feel like you’ve swallowed a bowling ball. It’s lodged in your throat first, then constricting your chest, until finally, it sinks. A heavy, solid weight flipping your stomach. You’re locked on a different set of dark eyes. They’re glowering at you through lowered brows from across the room. Seated at the same bar where Dave ordered your drinks.

Joel stares at you over his drink. He downs the glass without taking his eyes off of you. One quirked brow, asking really?

Really what? Is he judging you? For what, being on a date?

Another glass replaces his empty tumbler, but he doesn’t acknowledge the bartender or the rest of the world.

This fucking guy.

The bowling ball in your gut mutates into something fiery. But, you have nothing to be guilty about. It’s not your fault he’s alone, bitter, and drinking at a bar full of people having more fun than him. In fact, you could say it’s his fault that you’re both here.

A scowl forms on Joel’s face when Dave slides back into the booth beside you. Good. You hope he suffers. You hope he sees how easy it is for someone to treat you well. And how happy you look.

You don’t hesitate to lean your body against Dave, giving in to your urges. You squeeze his arm when he makes you laugh, and your touch lingers. He preens under your admiration when you comment on his firm biceps. He is quick to match your advances. Finding excuses to brush your hair behind your ear and settling a heavy palm on your knee. His hand creeps a little higher up your thigh but doesn’t graze the hem of your dress. Respectful. That’s different.

You don’t need to look again to feel Joel’s eyes burning into you. It incites you that he has the audacity. The gall to make faces at you for showing up on a date. You decide you’ll give Joel something to scowl about, feeling emboldened by your date’s touch.

You slide Dave’s hand further up your leg, letting go when he gets the idea. You reach for your drink, feigning nonchalance, but your breath catches, and your hand trembles when he traces his fingertips around the crease of your thigh. He skirts beneath the hem of your underwear, drawing lines over your hip and back towards your center.

The soft touch tickles deliciously, and you feel the anticipation building in your core. He watches your expression, hawklike, noting the tiniest details in the features of your face. He notes when your breath stutters or your eyelids flutter softly.

“This what you wanted?” he husks, still watching intently. Yes, yes, yes!

“Almost,” you toy. Something about having both men’s eyes on you has your skin itching with desire and your blood running hot.

Dave scoffs softly, repeating your word choice and shaking his head. Almost.

“You looking for more?” he taunts as he wedges his large hand fully between your legs to cup and tease your cunt.

You can’t help the breathlessness of the yes that slips out of you. You roll into his palm, and your mouth parts at the friction and his boldness. He smiles wolfishly, flashing his teeth, when he feels you twist and rock against him. His look encourages you. And you tilt your hips and shift your legs to give him better access.

“Dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he asks, still locked on your face. You swell at this. His eyes lower to your glossy lips before he sips casually from his drink, so composed.

Your cheeks warm at his words, but he has his answer when he slips a finger beneath the damp lace between your legs and drags it through the pool of arousal gathering at your entrance. Your lips part at the contact, chest heaving, and you give him a nod and coy smile in response to his question. You’ll be his dirty little thing tonight.

“That’s good,” he declares, pressing a kiss just below your ear before adding, “I’d like to do dirty things to you.”

His husky voice and declaration stir an urgent need to be touched within you. He continues to agitate your nerves as his hand massages over your swollen sex. Your skin feels tight and prickly, tensing, ready to feel more. You’re unconcerned with the debased nature of being fingered in public.

When your eyes are instinctually drawn back towards Joel, you shudder. You can feel the twitching of your clit as your cunt floods over Dave’s fingers. The depravity that another man’s glare eases the slip of your date’s teasing touch is not lost on you. Instead, it turns you on even more. Joel’s homicidal stare has you squirming. You’ve seen darkness in his eyes before, but not like this. There’s no twinkle of mocking, and it’s not cruel in a hot way. If looks could kill, then this room would look like the club scene from Blade.

Dave murmurs something filthy in your ear that makes you gasp. Your hand flies to his thigh, gripping tightly to keep you from melting onto the floor.

“Don’t be shy, dirty girl,” he croons darkly, “you can touch.”

“Fuck,” you groan under your breath when you move your hand to find his hard cock straining against his well-fitted jeans.

He chuckles lowly at the way your eyes widen in response before he plunges two fingers inside of you, and you stifle a throaty sound. Your mind still wanders to Joel, and you wonder if he can see your perverse display below the table. Judging by his clenched fists on the bar, you’d say whatever he can see is enough to fill in the blanks. The sick part of you that feels more turned on by his agony expands within you.

“Oh god,” you whisper as you suck in air.

Dave works his fingers lazily into you. You feel intoxicated by the attention of both men. A concern flashes through you that someone else in the club could catch on or see more than you’d like to show. But a feeling in your gut tells you that it doesn’t matter. Dave seems strikingly confident with a lethal attention to detail. And the ferocity on Joel’s face only eggs you on.

When you think of humbling Joel, a sinister smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. He’s the one that unleashed the horny, risk-taking monster within you and then disappeared. Fuck moping about him. You’re getting yours, you decide.

You shoot Joel a wink. Pouring gasoline on the fire, hoping it pisses him off.

You lean into the salaciously tempting energy radiating off of Dave. Reaching to hold his jaw as your lips lock and you let him control your mouth. Kissing him riles you up more. You palm at his erection over his jeans, delighting in the noises that roil deep in his chest. You hold back whimpers as the pressure of his fingers curling inside of you finds the perfect spot.

He pulls back from your kiss and looks down to watch your hand groping at him. You like watching him watch you.

“You gonna take it out?” Oh. Fuck, you want to. It feels like more of a risk than you’ve taken so far.

“Here?” you ask him softly.

A wrinkle appears between your brows. Dave watches your swollen lips again just as your pink tongue darts out to wet them. He raises a brow at you, eyes dropping to where his arm disappears under your dress.

“Oh, are you feeling bashful now?” he goads. His fingers curl against that sensitive spot inside of you as his palm presses firmly into your swollen clit. He makes it hard for you to answer. You try to pout at him, but the reflexive rise in your brows at the pleasure betrays you. He chuckles again. “No? Just distracted, hm?”

“Fuck,” is all you can mouth. It is distracting. Not the fingers inside you, well, not completely, but the urge. The craving to leverage your lewd new lover’s lack of regard for appropriate behavior into emotional revenge. The thought of Joel growing mad with jealousy as he watches you come overtakes your critical thinking.

Eat your heart out, Joel Miller! You dare him across the room, letting your jaw fall slack and your brows knit in obvious pleasure.

“Are you going to come for me?” Dave asks, “Here in this booth? Where anyone could see?” he tuts like he’s disappointed, and it works. The danger of it all does something to heighten your senses. It’s blinding. The bass from the music blaring from the dance floor rattling in your ribs, Dave’s designer cologne filling your nose, the sheen of sweat collecting on your chest, and the daggers in Joel’s eyes when you glance to confirm he’s still watching. All the sensations clash and shove you towards your release.

“Yes,” you hiss quietly, “yes.” Your eyes slam shut as you try to remain composed while riding his fingers under the table. You flicker in and out of reality as your climax rolls through you. You’re drunk on the reversal of power when your eyes peel open, and you see the hardened expression on Joel’s face glowering at you. You wonder if his dick is just as hard in his pants, and the thought has you contracting again around Dave’s fingers.

“That’s a good girl.” Dave’s voice is somehow even deeper. It sends another ripple of pleasure to swirl low in your abdomen. You’d like to hear that again.

With a touch more clarity after the violent edge of your arousal is dulled, your hand works at his belt, desperate to feel the heat of his cock in your palm. He assists, lifting his hips when you unbuckle his belt and pop the button on his pants so you can slide your hand beneath his underwear. His tension and urgency further stoke your power trip, and you feel overcome with the need to know how badly he wants you. When you wrap your fingers around him, hear the groan he makes, and feel the mindless buck of his hips, you have a more than good enough answer. He’s yours.

Dave watches the way your eyes glaze over when your thumb smears the precome dripping from his head down his length. His hand stills distractedly between your legs, and his chin drops as he watches where your hand disappears under his dark boxer briefs. You’re constricted by the elastic waistband, but your grip is tight. Almost as tight as when he fucks his own fist. He’s mesmerized by the way you jerk his cock just right.

You feel yourself salivating with the need to taste him. You’re getting frustrated with the limited space and want to see him in your hand. You sigh, wishing you could, until you realize you can, and grin.

You pull your hand back out of his pants, and he snaps out of his stupor. Before he can comment, you cut him off.

“Keep your pants on and take me to the bathroom so I can suck your cock right.”

Your voice comes out lower than you thought it would. His eyes flare before he matches your devious look and obeys, spewing filthy thoughts you can’t make out under his breath as he does. He’s ushering you down the hall in seconds, and then you’re locking the door and dropping to your knees. Dave doesn’t wait a second longer, wrenching his belt open and dropping his jeans just enough for his cock to spring free.

You don’t tease or start slow. He admires how you waste no time like you’re desperate to taste him. And you are. Only pausing for a moment to admire the way he looks, stiff and leaking for you, before you eagerly wrap your lips around him. You slide your tongue everywhere and bob up and down with vigor. Salty and vaguely sweet, precome teases your palette. You want more. The best you can do to express that is swallow around him and suck until he’s moaning and cursing above you.

You let your saliva pool and spill from your lips so you can slide your hand down the rest of his length while you revel at the weight of him on your tongue. You find the moves that have his fists clenching and thighs straining and repeat them. You hum around him as pride blooms in your chest over how his composure cracks.

You wonder if Joel has smashed through the bar with his fists yet. At least he didn’t break down the bathroom door before you could get on your knees. Would he strangle Dave first if he saw the two of you? Or would he drag you home and gag you on his angry cock instead? You moan obscenely as your imagination runs wild. You look up at Dave. He watches you with fierce eyes. You wouldn’t mind if they shared you, you consider, but that would take a miracle.

You continue messily and enthusiastically until your knees ache, and you decide he has to come for you. You try to beg for it while he’s still in your mouth before you have the brains to pull off of him and tell him what you want. He’s endeared by your unrefined hedonism.

He grips your jaw in his palm when you get the words out.

“You want to swallow my come?” he asks.

“Yes,” you plead impatiently on your knees with a hoarse voice. You’re a pornographic sight on the tile floor with your wet lashes, swollen lips, and saliva glistening on your chin. You open your mouth for him and hold out your tongue.

“Oh,” he strokes his thumb along your cheek, smiling down at you, “that’s a good girl.”

Your eyes close at that, feeling the praise warm your skin before he slides back into your wet mouth.

Guiding you faster and a little rougher, Dave doesn’t take long to come. Spilling onto your tongue as you groan around him until he stops pulsing in your mouth. You swallow, glowing for him with glassy eyes. He helps you to stand before tucking his softening cock back into his jeans and fastening his belt. You’re adjusting your dress and reaching for your bag on the counter.

“What do you need?” He asks a little softer than you expected, causing you to pause.

“Take me home,” you smile at him dopily before pausing and wincing at yourself in the mirror. You look like a freshly face-fucked mess.

“Uh, actually, give me a few minutes to freshen up first, and I’ll meet you out front?”

He nods, “I’ll pull the car up.”

“I’d like that.” You reply and lock the door behind him after he slips out.

Once you feel more presentable, you pull your phone from your bag and tap the screen to check the time before opening the door.

Seeing Joel’s name makes your stomach flip. You open the text.

Joel: Miss me?

It snaps something in you. Something that enrages you. He has to be certifiably insane, you think. It came through a little while ago, but you aren’t sure how long you’ve been in the bathroom. You begin to spiral, debating if you should march to the bar and throw a drink in his face or pretend like he doesn’t even exist. You feel your face burning hot, and the bathroom is suddenly suffocating. You need some air before you get into the car with Dave. Just long enough to breathe normally and look less like you want to break something.

Leaving the bathroom you find an employee exit further down the hall. A faded sign on the door warns that an alarm will sound, but the rock wedged in the door jam holding it open a crack begs to differ, and you slip into the dark.

A lanky, pale kid in a black apron sits atop a picnic table in the alley.

“Oh, sorry,” you feel a little guilty interrupting his break, “just wanted some air.”

“All good,” he responds before sliding off the makeshift seating. “Last call for the kitchen anyway. Have my seat,” he waves at the table like he’s offering a throne. You accept. Exceedingly grateful to have the air and the privacy to regulate. Just some slow, deep breaths. Then, you can walk out the front door and let Dave take you home.

The door swings open again, and you tense, ready to hop off the table and find another space.

“Sorry,” you start your apology, but it’s cut off.

“You should be,” Joel accuses harshly. He’s in your space with two of his long strides. Rushing at you like you’re caught in a snare trap, and he’s starving. You briefly look the part with your eyes wide in the moonlight, shocked by his sudden appearance, until your barely dampened rage rips from your throat.

“Joel, what the fuck?” you spit out in disbelief, but he interrupts you–

“I thought I already told you what happens if you’re gonna be a filthy tease?” his voice lowers as he ignores your question and paces in front of you with a dark, wicked stare.

“What are you doing here?” you press, ignoring his threat.

“What are you doing here?” he demands. Like he has some certificate of entitlement to your whereabouts. He towers over you. Your eyes narrow to slits. If you could shoot lasers out of them, you’d do it now.

You laugh. Loudly. You’re still laughing when he grabs you and pivots your frame so your legs dangle off of the end of the table towards him. Closer. He gets even closer, standing between your knees. You tilt your face to look up at him.

“You on a date?” it’s a growl carved from stone. You choose to remain ignorant to the shiver it sends through you that has nothing to do with the temperature. How dare he charge up on you like a territorial werewolf in the night? And how dare he look so fucking good with that snarly expression? No. You laugh again. Wild-eyed. Words start coming up before you even hear yourself.

“What is wrong with you, Joel? Why were you watching me? You looking for a show?” you jab. Gnashing at him with your words. He snorts dismissively at you, and a barbaric smile creeps onto his face. Like he’s in on some joke you don’t know about. He irks you so bad your skin crawls.

“S’that what you call it?” he asks, “A show?” Continuing to ignore your other questions. He is so close to you that it burns your skin.

“No, Joel. You were right the first time. I am on a date. A real date. You know what that is, right? Like, he asked me out, picked me up on time, bought me a drink,” you’re tallying on your fingers, “answered my–”

“And then what, you fuck him in the bathroom and hide out here? Alone in the alley?”

It clicks. He knows exactly why you’re flustered. The asshole must’ve sent his text for his own slimy experiment. Trying to rattle you. What fucking game is he playing? Is he trying to win you? Like you’re Dave’s possession to lose?

You scoff at his interjection, “No, Joel, I’m not alone. You followed me out here to make sure of it, right?”

“Right,” he rumbles. His dark eyes glint even in the shadows of the alley. He leans lower and closer to you until you tip back, palms on the table behind you, then elbows. Exposing your cleavage to the moonlight. He pauses, eyes raking down your face, neck, and chest. How does he make you feel raw and vulnerable even when fully dressed?

“You haven’t answered me,” you huff. Irritated and arched beneath him.

“I asked you first,” he argues. A childish rebuttal for a grown man. You’re pretty sure you’ve asked why he’s here a hundred times, but of course, that doesn’t matter. He’s insufferable with his attitude and inability to communicate. Everything about you is taut, and you feel frayed.

Joel dips his head and his lips brush your ear, tickling you, before he rasps, “I asked if you miss me, baby, and you haven’t answered.”

A tremor runs through your body.

It’s criminal. Your mind converts his voice directly into a hot coil of arousal. The throbbing between your legs causes you to wriggle beneath him.

“I need to know,” he croons, begging you to give in.

His arm slides under your back, lowering you onto the table. Your restraint collapses terribly quickly for him. His voice. His touch. He knows all of your buttons.

Laid on your back, your legs instinctively wrap around him as he bends to meet you.

Soft puffs of air shakily flow between your lips as you struggle to concentrate. On what? You aren’t sure. Not good. You squeeze your eyes shut like maybe he’ll disappear.

“I mean it, baby,” he continues purring with a sharp edge, “you tell me when you miss me.”

You know it wouldn’t matter even if you did. If you texted him. If you called. It wouldn’t matter. It would probably make you feel worse. But when he says it, you feel your heart doing flips anyway.

He slides his hands over your body, and you feel the last of your logic escaping as you tug him towards you. You’re grinding against him stupidly without a single thought. Just having him this close to you had you feeling desperate and needy. You could come again right now just by dry-humping like horny teenagers.

The craving for him is so intense that you’ll surely die if he doesn’t keep moving. You lose any shred of composure that you were still clinging to and let out a needy whine for him. And when your fingers twist and tug at his shirt, it’s like a green light to Joel.

He closes any and all gaps between you. His hand skates roughly under your dress, bunching up the fabric. He presses open-mouthed kisses against your neck and grazes his teeth enticingly along your jaw.

Groping, grinding, grunting. All his movements dance a line between deliberate and frantic.

You have tunnel vision, lost from time and space. When his low moan vibrates through you, your hand shoots to his belt. He rasps into your ear again, “That’s it, baby, I’m right here if you miss me, don’t need some jerkoff tryin’ to waste your time.” Your fingers fumble. What– “Oh, shit!” a voice yells. You freeze. “Don’t mind me!” The drunk guy slurs as he stumbles out the backdoor and sways down the alley towards the street.

Your situation hits you like a bucket of cold water. Joel seems unfazed, still curled over you. You push at him and sit up.

“What did you just say, Joel?”

“Hmm?” he murmurs at you.

“Joel, I’m serious. What the fuck?”

He’s not listening. His hands are still searching your body. The scent of his faded deodorant is so familiar in your nose. The words are coming up again. Before he casts his trance on you.

“No. I said I’m serious,” you repeat, “I’m not playing your games. Done with your weird shit.” Your body feels rigid, and your mind is clearing through the fog of lust. “Just because I have no self-esteem and I fuck you anytime you show up on my doorstep doesn’t mean you have any claim to me.”

He blinks at you, finally registering your tone, expression shifting. “I actually tried, you know? I wanted to get to know you. You just bail. I keep suffering for it. Like an idiot. I keep thinking it would show I care.”

“Baby–”

“And now what? You see me on a date and decide it would be fun to ruin it? Ruin a chance at something better than waiting around wondering if you’ll show up looking to score?” You’re on your feet now. Livid. Ablaze in the dark. “No, you don’t even care enough to think about that,” you realize aloud.

His features harden. Your head shakes slowly, exasperated with your burgeoning understanding. All you can hear is the white noise buzzing in your skull. Your next words are quieter and lower, forcing him to pay close attention.

“You just wanted to prove something, right? Thought you’d fuck me on this table and run like you always do? For what, to prove you could?”

His nostrils flare, and you don’t miss how he grits his teeth.

You don’t falter; he doesn’t scare you. You press on with your accusations prickly on your tongue. You back him against the wall next to the door as you continue.

“You don’t like hearing it?” you cock your head at him, amused with his discomfort. “Were you going to leave me here in the alley full of your come like I’m some pathetic whore for you? Would you walk me back to my date after that? Was that your plan?”

Joel snaps, manhandling you in a split second. Pinned against the brick wall, you can hear your heart pounding. It’s a paper-thin line between anger and lust, and you can’t tell which has your blood pumping. You can’t tell if he’s about to yell at you or fuck you. You hate that you can’t tell which you’d prefer.

His eyes are locked onto yours. Not revealing anything. You shift, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. He doesn’t keep you waiting. Joel shoves his hand into your panties, fingers slipping immediately into the fresh pool of arousal between your thighs. A shaky exhale comes out of you, but he doesn’t seem to need to blink or breathe anymore.

He brings his glossy fingers to your mouth. Silent. He taps at your lip until you open and suck, tasting yourself. His mask slips a little. One brow twitches as he studies the scene of your lips wrapped around both of his fingers. But his eyes flick to yours when he pulls them out of your mouth and drags them down your bottom lip, smearing spit against your chin.

“Tell me,” he says in a whisper that scrapes across your skin, “does it taste like you miss me?”

You swallow tightly. A lump forms in your throat now, about as large as a civilization-ending asteroid.

You can hear your phone buzzing. Forgotten on the table. Panic streaks over your eyes as you wonder how long you’ve been out here. You duck under his arm, dashing for your phone. You don’t look at him. You can’t. As you sprint down the hallway, you swing the door open, kicking the rock in the door jam, hopefully locking Joel outside. Cursing at yourself for almost letting Joel fuck you in the alley across from a dumpster.

Dave sits in his car, idling along the curb near the front of the club. You’re surprised he didn’t leave. You hope it hasn’t been long. You don’t dare check your phone. Maybe it was only a few minutes, or it could have been an hour. You don’t think time functions normally when you’re around Joel.

Dave is frighteningly observant, slinking out of his car to open the door for you before you get close enough to reach for the handle.

“I was just starting to wonder if you’d snuck out the back door,” he chides.

You feel the blood rushing to the surface of your skin. Hot with embarrassment over your behavior and his on-the-nose word choice.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I did step out for some air. Wanted to cool down.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he assures you, tilting your chin towards his face with his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes dart around his face, wondering what he sees on yours. “Was it too much, dirty girl?” he coos.

“What, this?” you lilt mockingly as you palm over his bulge, “I don’t think so.”

“Good,” he snorts softly. “Get in the car.” He adds as he opens the door for you.

He pauses before pulling away from the curb once seated in the driver’s side.

“Is your boyfriend going to be following us home?”

“My what?” you feel the blood drain from your face.

“The one from the bar,” he continues, measured and eerily calm, “the one who followed us here?” Your head starts spinning at that, but Dave carries on, unbothered. “I assumed he likes to watch. You should’ve told me. It would’ve been easier than wondering if he’s a deranged stalker or–”

“No.” You cut him off and struggle to continue for multiple reasons. “It’s not like that. I thought it was a coincidence,” you feel a confusing mix of emotions.

“Followed us?” you’re curious.

“When I picked you up. In the truck?”

“Oh god. No. He’s,” you pause, searching for the right words.

“An ex?”

“Not even that. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe he’d follow me.”

“So he is dangerous?”

“No.” Only to my self-respect.

“You want me to take care of him?”

“No.” You reply before putting any thought behind what that means. “No. He’s just an asshole with a staring problem.”

You withdraw. You hadn’t thought about why Joel was here. How ridiculous it sounds to imagine Joel voluntarily sitting at the bar in a club like this alone. You feel the blood rushing to your ears. Stupid little butterflies flap their wings in your stomach before they’re reduced to ashes, and you begin to see red again tonight. How is Joel ruining your night without saying a word this time?

“Take me home,” you say firmly.

He does. Dave walks you to your door. You invite him in, but he’s observant, noticing the clouds in your expression. He declines your invite but assures you he would be very interested in seeing you again. He gives you a chaste kiss that makes you laugh, considering how bold you both have been tonight. It lightens your mood.

He lingers for a moment before he pulls out his wallet.

“It was on the house this time,” you snark. Curious about what he’s doing.

He hands you a sleek business card. A business card? Is this guy Patrick Bateman?

Your face wrinkles in confusion.

“I already have your number,” you flip the card over in case you’re missing something. It doesn’t say anything, just has a phone number.

“I meant what I said, that I’d be interested in seeing you again for pleasure,” he smirks, “but if you change your mind, at least keep this.”

You don’t understand why you’d need his work phone number but try to play it cool and nod.

“If your stalker becomes a problem, you call me.”

You’re still confused about what that means when he drives away. As you shut your door, you realize you have no idea what he does.

You’re still in the middle of composing a text to Katie about how her green flag date included a bathroom blowjob and a business card when you hear a knock at your door. You swing it open, assuming foolishly that it would be Dave.

Before you can blink, Joel kicks the door shut and backs you down the hallway. He looks like a man possessed as he hurtles towards you. It sends a chill down your spine that you think would trigger your fight or flight response, but yours seems to be reprogrammed to fight or fuck. Staggering backward, you yelp when the backs of your knees hit your mattress.

“Can I fucking help you?” you snap at him as you realign with reality. “Jesus Christ, Joel, were you waiting outside the window or something?”

You glare into his eyes, but a toxic part of you only wants to focus on his lips. And how close they are to yours. You also can’t deny the even more debauched part of you that flutters at the possessive look in Joel’s eyes.

He laughs darkly, “Nah baby, I knew you’d send him on his way.”

You roll your eyes at that. Cocky bastard.

And he is. He emits a frenzied energy as he takes you in. Looking you up and down like a prize. Like he’s considering where to write his name on your skin.

You roll your shoulders. Trying to shake off the idea that you’d like to be possessed by him, but it thrums persistently inside of you.

“You didn’t know shit, Miller,” you accuse sardonically.

Joel reaches for you. You think he’s going to tell you off. But his hands glide over the tops of your shoulders and up the column of your neck until he’s cupping your jaw in both hands. It feels jarring and vulnerable to be held by him this way. To feel like he just wants to look at you and to know you can’t look away. You wonder what’s going on behind his dark eyes. What he sees when he looks at you What he thinks.

The longer he looks at you, the more the tension builds (of course, because it’s Joel). You start to itch, fingers twitching with the need to grab him and pull his full weight on top of you. Despite your building desire, he’s still quietly reading your face. Joel Miller, the enigma, you muse.

Before you can flip him any shit, his mouth is on yours, and his hands drop to your hips to hold you firmly against his body. You want him to keep holding you there, but closer. You need him even closer.

He groans into your mouth, and you kiss him back hungrily. Your bodies slot together in a twisted fate. You couldn’t care less about the date you just had at this moment. You can hear Joel’s words from previous encounters that have burrowed into your consciousness, and you’re starving for more.

A selfish and greedy satisfaction warms in your chest at him being in your bedroom. He pulls your lower lip between his teeth before breaking away to tease bites along your neck and shoulder. You shiver. Your fingers dig into his shirt, pulling him closer and closer until your knees buckle, and fall into the bed with him on top of you. He doesn’t stop trying to taste you everywhere, trying to feel every part of you. You breathe out single-syllable praise as your thoughts become hazy.

You still feel needy. You writhe and strain as you attempt to work his shirt up his broad frame. You’re insistent on feeling the blistering heat of his skin against yours. He leans back up, out of your grip, causing you to sigh in exasperation. Of course, it couldn’t be this easy. What does he have to say now?

“You want me to leave?”

“What? Why?” you growl out. He is not about to body slam you into a bed and then walk away.

“Thought you were done with my ‘weird shit’ or whatever you called it,” he taunts.

“I am,” you huff.

“Tell me to stop.” You can’t.

“Take your clothes off,” you answer instead.

He does. Then, he’s pulling your clothes off and climbing over you. You aren’t sure you’ve ever both been fully naked like this. Definitely not while in a bed, at least. It’s more intimate than your relationship calls for. It makes time feel syrupy, but your other senses feel sharply tuned. Joel’s breath fans hot over your ear as he tucks his face into the corner of your neck and shoulder.

“So,” he sucks at your delicate skin before continuing in his smoky tone, “your date couldn’t satisfy you?”

“Shut up,” you snarl at him, uninterested in playing games. You’re too lost in the intensity of his physical presence. You need him inside of you, and you tug at his body, trying to pull him closer. It’s useless. His strong arms are braced like two stone pillars on either side of you.

He’s such a pest. His mouth quirks, and he looks all too pleased with himself. You roll your eyes again. You know what he’s getting at. What he wants to hear you say. But, you’re reluctant to stroke his ego. He’s going to be unbearable if. The thorn of it that hurts the most, though, is that it’s not a lie. It’s an admission. A confirmation.

He makes you feel so good in ways nobody else ever could, but the pain of knowing he’ll never be yours eats at you. It feels like exposing your beating heart in your chest to confess you want him so badly. You ache to hear him tell you he only wants you again. Even if it’s not real, you lie to yourself, you just need to hear it.

While you wrestle with finding the words, he begins to torment you. The heat and arousal weigh heavily between your naked bodies. He lowers closer and closer to where you need him most but refuses to alleviate your painful want. Wickedly, he exploits your neediness. Teasing at your skin with his tongue, teeth, and breath.

“Tell me, baby. Just let me hear it,” he says. But you can’t.

When he blows air over your strained nipples, and you arch under him seeking contact, he darts down to kiss at your stomach and inner thighs instead. When he gets closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, grazing his nose over your mound, you could snap.

You reach to dig your fingers into his hair and direct his mouth to your throbbing clit, but he’s stronger than you. Devilish man. He crawls back up to hover over your face. You know he’s enjoying it. Wondering how quickly you’ll break. It makes you want to kick and scream.

“Tell me it’s not true then,” it’s a challenge directed at you, but it feels like he’s also challenging himself.

He drags the head of his cock over the slick lips of your cunt without precision or direction. You are so convinced he’s torturing you, but he looks like he’s in pain from restraining himself as well. It makes you crazy. You try to reach down to line him up with your entrance yourself, but he’s faster. He grabs your hand and pins it above your head.

“Fine,” you grit out. Frustrated. You aim to smother your fear with sarcasm and puff your chest, hoping it works.

“You’re right, Joel. It’s true.” He doesn’t move, waiting to hear more.

“I missed your filthy mouth and your big fat cock.” You mock with an exaggerated whine. You keep going before you lose courage. “And my date couldn’t satisfy me.” You pause, steeling yourself. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Because even when I had his cock down my throat,” you force yourself to look in his eyes, “all I could think about was you.”

You tried to keep the snarky, biting tone in that last part, but your voice betrayed you when you met his eyes. It came out sounding as vulnerable as it felt to say. His expression flickers. You feel too honest. You should take it back. You want to curl up. He grins above you.

“I know, baby,” he coos. You hold your breath. Of course he’s going to be a condescending ass about it, you start to bemoan internally–but when he finally sinks into you, it shuts off your inner monologue and slows down time. “All I can fuckin’ think about,” he says as he fills you as deeply as possible, letting a satisfied sigh fall from his lips.

All I can fuckin’ think about.

The words rattle around in your mind. Joel begins to rock into you, deliberately grinding his pelvis against you. All he can think about is you, too? Or fucking you? Or how he’s ruined you for other men?

All I can fuckin’ think about.

It echoes in your head as he picks up his pace, splitting you open with heavy, mind-altering thrusts. Suffocatingly intimate. Face to face. Skin to skin. Soul to soul. His voice isn’t just echoing in your mind; he’s also running his mouth about something. Muttering about how he knew you’d be waiting for him, how he’s going to fuck you until you forget your date's name, how nobody else can satisfy your needy cunt.

Oh.

He’s not wrong. You want to hear more.

“Yes,” You can stoke this fire. You don’t mind finding out what happens if you rile him up while he’s inside you. “Only you,” you pant, “nobody else fucks me like you do.”

He makes a throaty noise in agreement and shifts. Large hands wrap around the back of your knees and press them towards your chest, tilting your hips up. You choke and sputter as he slams into you with force. The new angle creates a blissful intensity.

“That’s right,” he says, “nobody else.”

He pounds into you like he could fuck you through the mattress, maybe even through the floor. The lewd sound of his thighs slapping against your ass fill the room. You tuck your chin to your chest to watch the way each thrust makes your breasts bounce. You notice that he’s mesmerized by the same sight, and you take the opportunity to shift your gaze, studying the look on his face.

It’s more sensual than anything you’ve done together before. You can see the sweat beading on his chest from exertion. You’re nearly folded in half and unable to stop your soft cries and moans. It’s raw, sticky, and vulnerable. You feel warmed at the thought but also fragile. Breakable. Hypersensitive emotionally and physically. It’s all too bright and hot.

You let his voice push you over the edge, and your climax rips fiercely through your body. You faintly hear him groan as your tight walls contract around him, but his voice is drowned out by the pleasure. Your legs tremble, still balanced over his shoulders.

Your core muscles spasm as he keeps sawing into you until your hips are jerking at the sensitivity of your come down. He slows, breathing heavily over you. You can see the animalistic edge in his eyes. You have to push it. Play it out.

“Make me yours,” you incite.

You definitely just meant to imply, ‘fuck me hard and come inside me, please,’ but you worry he’s interpreted it differently when he drops your legs. Wrong. He turns you over, laying you flat on your stomach, pulling your arms behind your back, and pinning you to the bed. He straddles your closed legs. Your shoulders strain a little as he leans into you. His heavy body compresses your prone form, and his cock weighs heavy against the curve of your ass; it feels right. A perverted comfort blanket, stealing your breath.

“Repeat it,” he tells the back of your neck.

“Make me yours.” You turn your head to the side. You can’t see his face, but you can hear the string of curses he chants when he lines up and wedges himself into you. The added constriction of your position unravels you both.

“Mine,” he grunts. You muffle your own noises into the sheets, along for the ride. He doesn’t last much longer before you feel him still overtop of you. You close your eyes, focusing on the sensation of the pulsing and throbbing of his cock inside you as he fills you up. Breathing deep, your back rises against his chest before he slides off of you.

You roll onto your side. Facing each other, you still at the sight of him. Another breath shared between you, chests expanding towards each other. For the briefest moment, you think he might stay. You can see the soft edge of relaxation in his features. Your hand drifts toward him, an instinct based on nothing rational, just wanting to feel him. You feel the stupid, dreamy expression settling on your face. Before you can speak or figure out what you were reaching for, he’s snapped out of the bubble of tranquility. His walls are up.

He’s dressed and leaving, walking towards the door as you can only sigh into your dirty sheets.

He doesn’t even leave with a snide last word. Just the door closing.

if you'd like to be on a taglist please let me know !

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #fuckboy joel #dave york #the last of us fanfiction #joel tlou smut #pedro pascal smut

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fureliselost · 1 year ago

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Dpxdc twin au in which Danny and Damian are fraternal twins

It's a classic "the Fentons misunderstood Danny's name and registered him as Daniel" but they accidentally transe Danny's gender and Danny never corrects them. Strangely, Danny likes it.

Eventually, the Fentons figure out, but Danny says he doesn't mind and they go with it.

(note: In this Danny is kinda nb/transmasc/gender weird, gender is neutral to him and he's fine with being called whatever, although male pronouns are the ones he uses the most)

Cut to Danny being dragged by Vlad to a gala (Vlad can be good but annoying in this idc) and Vlad is proudly displaying his "godson".

Duke: Hey, Damian, did you see the kid Vlad Masters brought?

Damian: I thought father said he wouldn't go into business with Masters.

Duke: He still attends for appearances. (Shrugs) Anyway, got any twins you didn't tell us about?

Damian: Yes.

Duke: 'Cause that guy looks just like—what?

Damian: I said I have a twin you don't know about.

Damian explains to the batclan that Danny was sent on a mission (as punishment) to keep track of the Fentons, since they studied "Lazarus Water". And then they forgot about it. The last time Damian heard of Danny was right before the accident.

On Danny's side, he knows Damian will be there before he goes — he's kept track of his twin's public persona (and vigilante life). He'd been doing a great job of not interacting and keeping from being spotted, as was protocol for if two agents ended up on the same field — he knew Damian wasn't an agent anymore, but assumed the protocol still applied. He knew, the moment Duke Thomas spoke to him and then went straight toward Damian, that he'd failed that protocol.

Now, Damian was trying to convince him to leave the League.

"Daniyah, there is another way."

"I know there is another way," Danny replied, "Except I told you about it for years and you never listened." During the years away from his family, Danny had missed them, his memory softened the feeling of anger at the way his twin always moulded his ideals to whoever ruled him. "We aren't supposed to be speaking, I'm still an agent, I'm breaking protocol by being here."

They'd sneaked off to a room along with Damian's siblings, who watched attently and and silently. "You don't have to be an agent anymore."

"Yes, I do." Danny spat, "You don't seem to have realized, but some of us don't have the privilege of being the favorite. I never had the privilege of being saved."

Damian scowled, "Being saved is not a privilege."

"It isn't," Danny agreed, "You're just forgetting that when you got freedom in reward, I got sent on a mission as punishment. You're still free and I'm still being punished, so I'm not sure you understand exactly what my position is." He moved to leave, "I'm not a damsel in distress, and I don't need your furry parade to save me."

#dp #eli rants #eli fics #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc

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garoujo · 1 year ago

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✩ ˛˚ . 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓟𝓡𝓔𝓣𝓔𝓝𝓓 𝓣𝓞 𝓑𝓔 𝓐𝓢𝓛𝓔𝓔𝓟 𝓐𝓡𝓞𝓤𝓝𝓓 𝓣𝓗𝓔𝓜 & 𝓨𝓞𝓤𝓡 𝓒𝓗𝓘𝓛𝓓𝓡𝓔𝓝 feat. JUJUTSU KAISEN!

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ characters: gojo satoru, itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi, nanami kento & geto suguru!

warnings! sfw, dad!au, all characters written age 22+, f!reader (they’re referred to as ‘mommy’) ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! guys i literally found these hcs written & finished at the very bottom of my drafts so i’m posting idc, theyre v old & short so they may suck but pls accept my love!

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU

you hear him gossiping to your daughter who’s only a toddler when they return home, hearing her gasp dramatically at his words as they get closer. “sweet thi— oh?” gojo cuts himself off, followed by a few seconds of silence before you hear him whisper “hm, looks like mommy’s all tired out, princess. maybe we should just forget movie night and eat dessert before dinner.”

his words are goading and you try to hide the pout on your lips when they’re followed by a few of his heavy footsteps as he approaches you, like he’s trying to size you up for a reaction — looking for it as he pays careful attention to your features like he doesn’t have ever inch of you mapped out by memory.

it seems like an instant before they’re by the side of the couch, crouching down slightly to place a gentle kiss to your cheek, soft despite the way his lips linger on the skin as they move against you — enough for you to be able to feel the signature smirk you can only assume paints his pretty features right.

“really, sweet girl? i thought you knew me better than to pretend to be asleep.” gojo drawls and you almost jolt when he whips the blanket off of you with a gasp. “awake? all this time? princess i just don’t think they wanted to watch movies with us.” his tone laced with teasing as his lips curl into a smug grin — while you watch him turn to your daughter with a hand on his hip, yes you’re roped into it, not that you’re complaining.

✩ ˛˚ . ITADORI YUUJI

you hear their shared footsteps running up the hall as you quickly pull the blanket over your body, closing your eyes just as they burst through the door, closely followed by a gasp from your husband before you hear your son copy him — you always found it charming the way he truly seen him as his idol.

“oh no, mommy’s asleep so we gotta be quiet okay?” yuuji whisper shouts, a smaller voice piping up after with a just as excitable “bu’ you said we should never sleep with no goodnigh’ kiss.” your son tries to whisper back and you want to laugh at how loud they’re both talking while also trying to be quiet.

“you’re right! good job remembering!” you’re trying your best to bite back the smile you can feel twitch at your lips — the interaction making you feel warm in the best sort of way, but you hear them both begin to approach you before there’s a suspicious silence and you wonder if you’ve been caught.

“okay you go first then i’ll go!” you finally hear your husband say and you want to smile when you feel your sons lips press against your cheek before he pulls away again, whispering as he does “goodnigh’ mommy” followed by yuuji’s shortly after with a “goodnight baby.” hearing them leave after with a very quiet high five “wanna play a game now?”

✩ ˛˚ . NANAMI KENTO

you hear your husband’s chuckle as he returns home from picking up your daughter from school, your daughter rambling about what she learned before they enter the living room, noticing you asleep on the couch before nanami shushes her gently.

“how about you tell me all about it in the kitchen, princess? let’s let your mom rest.” he grumbles and it’s silent for a moment until you hear a cabinet close, feeling the familiar touch of your husbands lips on your skin when he leans down to place a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“sleep well, sweetheart.” nanami breathes, calloused thumb smoothing over your cheek soothingly incase he woke you, but allowing your daughter to kiss the same place he did before she’s copying her dads movements and tracing over the same spot with her smaller hand.

“that’s it, good job, princess. you want to help daddy make them some tea?” he grumbles, followed by a whispered “yes” before they move quietly to the kitchen.

✩ ˛˚ . FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

it’s quiet when you hear megumi and your daughter return home from school, her smaller hand still wrapped in his bigger one as he carries her pink bag pack over his shoulder with a pout on his lips (he knows he spoils her).

but as soon as they meet your figure draped so dreamily on the couch, pretending to be asleep — all sound dies down before you’re only met with light shuffling, the noise accompanied by the feeling of a soft blanket being draped over you a few moments later.

“like this.” megumi whispers, tucking it underneath you gently, he’s being careful not to wake you and you can’t deny the way it makes your heart swell. but not as much as it does when you feel the same movements on the other side — except by a smaller pair of hands this time and you can almost imagine the soft, proud smile on his face with the little. “is mommy warm now?”

your daughter tries to whisper, the sound comes out a little louder than intended, but you don’t mind when you hear your husband huff out a laugh after. “almost.” megumi hums, silence following his words before you feel him rest his lips along your forehead a few moments later with a soft breath. “there, perfect.”

✩ ˛˚ . GETO SUGURU

you hear the gentle of hum of geto’s soft laugh as he returns home with your daughter after the school run, both of their shared footsteps shuffling down the hallway as you work to quickly make yourself look comfortable on the couch. you lie back, pulling the blankets up to your chin just a few moments before their careful steps stop in the doorway, followed by a gentle shhh from your dark haired boyfriend as you hear them both fall silent.

“is mommy sleeping?” your daughter asks before it’s followed by a set of heavy steps—confirming that’s it’s exactly who you think it is when you sense his presence squat down at the side of the couch as his dark eyes probably settle on your features.

“seems that way.” geto grunts and you give it a few moments, hoping he hasn’t picked up on your little act before you feel his fingertips brush along your cheek, followed by a sigh before he’s falling into his place beside you softly. he moves you carefully until you’re pressed in his lap and you feel his other arm raise as your daughter asks “what’re you doing?” despite the way she approaches anyway.

“hm? i think i should get to cuddle with my favourite girls. cmeer.” and you think maybe you should keep up your little act a while longer as you nuzzle yourself into his chest with a content sigh when his lips press softly against your temple. but then he speaks against your skin and you can’t help the way you have to bite back a grin. “you really think you can trick me, pretty girl? i thought you knew me better than that.”

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #geto x reader #geto fluff #megumi x reader #megumi fluff #itadori x reader #itadori fluff #nanami x reader #nanami fluff

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beefboyandbabygirl · 1 year ago

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Pretend It's Someone That Came for You (18+)

pairing: coworker!wonwoo x fem!touch-starved!reader

genre: coworker au, office au, strangers to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut (MDNI!!), fluffy fluffy fluff fluff

description: you're lonely. you're so lonely you think it might actually kill you. but when wonwoo transfers to your office, he might just change that fact.

warnings: unprotected sex (do NOT pls my babes), soft dom!wonwoo, sub!reader, v loving sex, praise (f. receiving), confession of love, riding, fingering (f. receiving), pussy rubbing tihi, pet names (pretty girl, good girl, baby, darling, etc), VERY angsty beginning, yn is truly v sad so DO NOT READ THIS if u fear it will make u sad!!, they say i love u unrealistically fast but i had to do it, yn uses sex to feel less lonely/ends up feeling more lonely, relatable yn frs, slightly dramatized symptoms of touch-starvation (?), kinda boring plot but idc bc its CUTE AF

quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "finally!!" (she was fed tf up), "stanley is the most stanley man ever. i hate him but i love him.", (more r coming she actually didnt have time 2 read this and i didnt want to wait with posting.)

wordcount: 10.0k

a/n: this story was supposed 2 have more angst, like it was supposed to have this whole misunderstanding, but it just didnt feel right, it made me sad, so instead this is a short n sweet love story xx

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

You weren’t always like this. You remember being a sociable, joyful child; half-broken bikes and teddy bears and booster seats. You remember pigtails and popsicle sticks and Power Rangers, and what came after that? Being a moody teenager, became being a moody adult. High school became college, and college became an office job that served to keep you alive, even if it didn’t feel like being alive. College wasn’t that bad, you remember, so at what point had you mistaken isolation for privilege? And at what point had you gone too far into that tunnel-hole to turn back?

You must’ve been cursed, you think, putting on your outfit for work in the deadly still apartment. Dust dares not move, dares not give you hope that you are not alone.

You must’ve been cursed, you think, coming into work to a string of half-hearted, mumbled greetings. Your office is off-white and black and gray and everyone inhabiting it is also off-white and black and gray, and their skin is faintly oily and sickly and their faces are dragging down as if the very earth was reclaiming them and you think that you fit in here better than anywhere else.

You must’ve been cursed, you think, when you spend your day writing emails and organizing documents of information into different formats to send to huge corporations. Sometimes you fantasize about the other end of the transaction. Maybe their office is warm and brown with an accent of blue, and maybe people put hands on each other's shoulders, when they tell one another they’ve done a good job.

Yes, there’s no other explanation, you think, and can’t even muster the energy to feel bad when you blame some old hag from your hometown. You think she must’ve conjured up the worst ingredients, something cartoonishly evil, and a spell befell you, sunk into the crevices of your skin and dug into your pores.

You lie on your couch with a glass of wine and the television going, but you’re not really listening. You don’t think anyone has touched you in six months. You’re not even sure you’re real anymore. You swear, you could live with no one hearing you out, because you’re not sure you’d have anything worthwhile to say, but you just needed someone to touch you. To reach out a hand and confirm, you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips, and I’m squeezing your shoulder, and I see you, and I feel you right here.

Sometimes you think that the loneliness might kill you.

Lying physically very still, you still feel like you’re scrambling, fighting the clutch of the curse, and tugging on metal chains. Maybe that’s where all your energy goes.

What do normal people do when they feel this bad?

Sometimes you leave open the window, and when the wind tugs at your door, you pretend it’s someone that came for you.

Tug, tug, tug. The door rattles against its hinges when the fatally empty sky brings to you, in outstretched palms, the wind interlaced with glimmers of hope.

There’s never anyone at the door. _____________________________

This particular day starts like any other. You wake to your alarm and you put on clothes and you get ready and brush your teeth. Then you trample down to the bus stop. The sky is smothered by a duvet of heavy rain clouds. The rain hasn't come yet, but you know it will. Your fingers become stiff and hard, where they adhere to the polyester strap of your bag, massaging it. The bag is cold and dead.

The bus ride is by far the greatest part of your day. It’s quiet - early enough that you’re only accompanied by a few other souls. You rest your head on the window, vibrating gently against the curve of your forehead, and watch the people in the street.

The bus hums a gentle tune and snakes down the streets. Then you’re there, and whatever solace that it offers you under artificial light and mediocre, felted seats is gone.

Your office building is maybe the most depressing place on earth. It’s no glamorous feat of architecture. It is but a large, orange-y, puke-y, brick square, and the building is shared between yours and the Forester company. You don’t talk to the Foresters, but you know they eat cream cheese bagels on their breaks and throw birthday parties and once you saw the branch manager squeezing a salesman’s shoulder and telling him he had done a good job. His fingers squeezed down and the movement of the fabric revealed a shoulder pad built into the suit. You remember thinking it was a shame that it blocked the real touch.

Today, you walk up the stairs with heavy steps and you idle into the office building, eyes cast down to the dirty, gray carpet. You begin the long trek into the back of the building where your desk is located.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard.

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back.

“Morning.”

“M-”

Wait a minute.

Your greeting falls short. You don’t recognize that voice. Stopping in your tracks, your shoes scratch on the rough carpet, and lift your head to see him.

The first thing you notice is that he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. He looks like he jumped out of an underwear commercial; he’s all strong jawline, sharp eyes, round glasses on his pretty nose, neatly trimmed, short dark hair stretching down the planes of his face. He’s wearing a button up (usually you wouldn’t even register the clothing your coworkers adorned, but something about how he wore it was noteworthy), a tie draping over the dress shirt, and formal slacks hugging his thighs.

He smiles at you sheepishly, hands nervously smoothing down his thighs.

“I’m Wonwoo” he says curtly, nodding to you. “Just transferred from the Wallingset branch.”

You nod. “Right. Wallingset,” you nod more. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you too, Y/n.”

Something about your name on his lips makes your heart flutter. It’s pathetic, you know, but his peregrine being in his office chair, spilling your name from his pink lips makes you feel a little more real. You look at him and then you nod again-again, kicking your legs into gear again and walking the last stretch to your desk.

You can see the back of his head from your orange-wood desk. Papers and sticky notes are scattered among the desktop. The monitor watches you accusingly, all big and square and black, waiting for you to open it up and begin working. Your eyes linger on him for a moment. Then you work.

A few hours pass on emails and translating information from a company into a comprehensive sheet. However, today you’re having a hard time focusing on work.

This is not new.

Sometimes you briefly talk to a man at the grocery store, and your mind will wander to him for next week, wondering if he’s thinking about you too, imagining yourself cuddling with him, watching movies, imagining him telling you it’ll all be okay. Sometimes you briefly talk to a man on the street, sometimes it’s even a date, but whatever the case you obsess and you dream and you always end up alone.

Today the victim of your depraved mind is Wonwoo. The guilt is easy to push away. You feel sorry for yourself. You think you deserve this. You think you can’t survive without this. And so you imagine him hugging you, stroking your hair, and you imagine him falling in love with you, and you imagine not being alone. Your fingers rest on your keyboard. It’s old and mechanical. You think it’s from a yard sale, probably an old woman whose children moved away. It’s plastic, and it curves inwards underneath the pads of your fingertips. The keys are cold and dead.

You fully zone out, eyes blearing into the back of his head, but you don’t really see it, your mind has traveled elsewhere. You guiltily imagine his hand between your legs, on your chest, straddling him, kissing him. And it’s not rough, it’s loving, because in this world he loves you, and he’d do anything for you, and you don’t have to be alone again.

You don’t love Wonwoo. It’s not some magical love at first sight, it’s not a romance book, it’s real life. You’re lonely. You need this to survive.

“Hey, Y/n?”

You snap your head up. Maybe you were still daydreaming. But you recognized the voice well and true, and it was Wonwoo, leaned over your desk, hands in his pockets.

“Oh, uhm, hey-” your voice is shaky and you quickly rush to compose yourself, hands moving frantically and uselessly to glide papers over one another and, then, realizing that there was no point to your movements, stilling and looking up at him, cheeks flushed. “Hey.”

Wonwoo smiles gently. “Uh, you know, I was wondering,” he looks around the office, as if surveying the area. “If you knew where to get a good lunch? I don’t know this area at all, so..”

He trails off, looking at you expectantly for an answer. Now that he’s standing before you, it’s much harder to ignore the guilt you feel. You wanna gnaw at your nails until they’re nubs, you want to crawl under your desk and cover your eyes. Does he see how red your cheeks are?

“Uhm- well- I don’t- I eat a packed lunch, so I’m-”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I’m, uh, no expert,” you giggle awkwardly and watch his gentle smile drop into pursed lips. “But! Uh- I hear the- the hot dog stand, uh, just a little down the street is good!”

“Really? Maybe I should try it,” he contemplates, smile returning to his lips. “Would you mind showing me this mysterious hot dog stand?”

“Uh-”

Just seconds before you were thinking of his fingers in your pussy, and his hands caressing you, and him making you feel loved. He’s standing before you and he’s a totally normal guy, and you feel like shit. You feel like shit for using this fake image of him to comfort yourself. You can’t be around him, can’t convince yourself that maybe this’ll turn into something more - not when you always end up alone. Your brows furrow in determination.

“Actually, I have to, uh, get this done, so-” you gesture vaguely to your monitor.

“Right! Yeah,” Wonwoo seems embarrassed, biting his lips and nodding. “It’s, uh, just down the street?”

“Yeah, to the right when you walk out the building.”

“For sure. Thanks,” he doesn’t even look at you then, just waves you off half-heartedly and starts trailing down the office. His shoulders are incredibly broad and his belt wraps tightly around his small waist.

You feel like shit. _____________________________

Why is no one else cursed?

You look out of the window, lying on your bed after work. Everything is very still and unmoving - your whole apartment feels like it’s knotted in strings, tightened until everything is snapped into place, and if you move the wrong muscles, the invisible hands will let go and everything will fly and hurdle through your home, and you can almost hear the sound, like the hard, empty sound of throwing a bowling ball and getting a strike.

No one else is cursed. People crowd the streets with friends, family, partners, and they’re talking and laughing. You rest your head in the windowsill, a lone spectator in the window. The glass cuts you off from the streets.

The afternoon after daydreaming the way you did about Wonwoo is always hard. Your apartment seems intent on suffocating you. Your daydreams serve as a reminder that you’re alone, that you truly have no one, and the act itself is so humiliating, you sulk into a glass of red wine and sometimes you cry. What do normal people do when they feel this bad, you wonder again, sobbing in your bed and spilling wine on your nightie.

Nighttime falls early while you’re crying. You weep on and off, hug your knees, eat a microwave dinner and watch TV, light casting onto your pathetic form on the couch.

And in your most vulnerable state is when you most easily slip into your old habits.

You press an old contact in your phone, one you’d tried to steer away from recently. You wipe mascara from your reddened cheeks, you wear pretty lingerie, and you lie, completely empty, void of any warmth, on your bed, awaiting.

It’s the first time he touches you in months. When his hand finds your shoulder, you shudder terribly. Sorry, he says, and he seems taken aback. Just ignore it, you plead, just ignore it. He does so, unsurely, and every time his hand grazes over your body you shudder and sob and every time he hesitates, asking if you’re okay, you cry at him to continue.

It feels good while it’s happening. Skin beneath your fingertips, hands on you, a face close to yours. You and him are the only thing moving in the apartment, synergizing on your bed, conjoining and writhing, and for just a moment, you don’t feel so alone.

When you’re done the anonymous man stands back up, sliding on his pants in the late hour. He says it was great and you hum. But then he looks around, hesitating on every old piece of furniture, on every photo on the walls, and lastly on you.

“What?” you ask, lying naked in your bed. He grimaces at you, as if signaling that he can’t quite figure it out himself.

“I don’t know,” he says slowly, hands on his newly-clothed hips and surveying the corners of the room, where shadows pool. “It feels haunted in here.”

He leaves.

When the warmth is gone, the bile rises in your throat. Old habits die hard, you think, and you feel totally empty. You couldn’t go on like this. It was nights like these you began to feel like a martyr - sacrificing yourself for a brief escape. Because when the door is closed with a click and you’re alone again, you feel yourself trembling and your heart is glowing red in the empty astral plane. Brief, easy forms of pleasure are often the most harmful.

It feels haunted in here. You remember his words, and before you finally fall asleep, you wonder one thing. You wonder if you’re already dead. _____________________________

The next day is a pain to overcome. You’re slightly hungover, slightly sore, and very uncomfortable. But you comply with your routine, and you enjoy the bus ride, and when you get to the office everyone greets you.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Tina.

“Morning, Tina,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” mumbles Gerard.

“Morning, Gerard,” you mumble back.

“Morning, Y/n,” Wonwoo says. You look up from the carpet carefully, flashing him an apologetic smile. You hope he can read its intention: Sorry about being weird yesterday. You think he got it.

“Morning, Wonwoo.”

And then you’re landing yourself at your own desk and beginning work once more. It’s boring, but today you ward off the daydreams and you focus, and you’re getting an exceptional amount done.

The clock on the wall (off-white, but yellowing near the top) reads 12:28 when your boss, Stan, approaches your table. He’s half bald, and his suit is much too loose, and he has a ladder of wrinkles climbing his larger-than-life forehead.

“Hey, N/n!” he calls, so loud that a couple of heads turn at the commotion. You’ve asked him several times not to call you that.

“Stanley,” you breathe, tapping a stack of papers on your desk to neaten the pile. You wonder if you were in trouble, but if his smile is anything to go by, you’d guess not.

“My favorite woman in accounting!”

“Hehe,” you laugh half-heartedly. You catch the eye of Wonwoo, glancing over his shoulder with a small, teasing smile. You smile back.

“I have a big- oh wait, wait, new guy, uhh, Jeon? Come over here real quick!” Suddenly his solid fingers waft the now scared Wonwoo over. The spectacled man’s shoulders hunch up as he moves off the chair, nodding respectfully. Wonwoo stands beside Stanley at your desk, and you focus your attention on Stanley, hoping to not get too lost in the idea of Wonwoo again - you were doing so good today.

“I have a big job for you, and I thought you could work with Wonwoo on it,” Stan moves his hand up to cup the side of his mouth, as if telling you a big secret, “seeing as he was a bit of a star over in Wallingset.”

Shit. The guy you were daydreaming about was working with you? Wonwoo laughs, embarrassed, but you hardly have time to catch it. You can’t do this. Yesterday you were thinking about him fingering you while looking at you lovingly!

“We have a massive, new client! Just dropped a big competitor of ours, and they want us to do their six month report!” Stanley seems genuinely excited about this, so you can’t help feeling a little guilty that you’ll be a gobbering, slobbering mess, sitting beside Wonwoo on this.

“That’s great-”

“I know! So, my two star members in accountancy, I’ll hand this off to you. The data should be coming into your emails soon,” without letting either of you react, Stanley hunches over, like a coach does before a little-league baseball game, wrapping his arms around both of you and Wonwoo. “You got this, troopers!”

Stanley claps his hands on both of your backs, so hard you jerk forward at the movement, and then he bounces off to the elevator at the far end of the room. You sigh heavily from the interaction. It’s quiet for a moment, while you fiddle with the papers in front of you.

“What a guy,” Wonwoo muses finally, thin fingers resting on the edge of your desk. You giggle, unable to look him in the eye for fear that you might remember how you’d thought about starting a family with him. “Yeah.”

You and Wonwoo settle into an unoccupied meeting room, and it’s all very professional. Markers and post-its, trying to find the best way to structure the report, excel sheets to categorize and overlook data, double check numbers.

However bad you think it’s going to be, you’re wrong. Wonwoo is easy to talk to - he’s quiet, but he’s intelligent, and he understands how to bring on conversation, even when you fold in on yourself like a used napkin.

“Yeah, we used to steal signs from our neighborhood,” Wonwoo admits halfway into a conversation about your hometowns. “I don’t think that’s gonna fly anymore.”

“Why stop now? You’re letting societal rules hold you back,” you joke, and the two of you laugh, and it’s so pathetic, you’re certain you haven’t laughed this much in years, and the conversation has lasted maybe 20 minutes.

“Well, I could show you the craft, you know, it’s a delicate process-”

While Wonwoo talks your phone buzzes and you absent-mindedly pick it up, reviewing the notification.

Your grin drops. Faintly, you hear Wonwoo stop talking. He tilts his head to study the way you frown at the screen. “What’s up?” he asks.

It’s the guy from last night and he’s asking if you’ll be available again tonight.

Maybe it’s how you could almost forget it - how you let yourself into positions that would hurt you, just to feel seen and heard and touched. Maybe it’s the dichotomy of that encounter and now, talking to Wonwoo, and having the laughter steal away the loneliness. But you’re reminded so terribly of your position. You’re reminded that this, too, will end, and that the loneliness will return. You’re reminded that once the shift ends, you’re alone again.

Suddenly you’re a thousand daggers all pointing out. You shield yourself.

“Uh,” you trail off, putting the phone down again. “Just some guy.”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise. “Boyfriend?”

“No!” you say quickly. “No, he’s, uh. Just some guy.”

A pause.

“Okay,” Wonwoo says. You don’t even remember where you left off the conversation. You bite your lip because everything is all agony. The table is cold and dead beneath your hand.

“I’m thinking we group these together,” you say, eyes now tuned to your screen and fully submerged back into your work. Work. That was all that could cover your beaten down, cursed self.

The rest of the shift you feel Wonwoo looking at you carefully, as if he’s trying to read you. You don’t talk about yourselves anymore, no more banter, no more witty comments. You structure the report, and try to ignore how his eyes laser you open. You don’t like it. You feel like he can tell you’re a pathetic, lonely woman and that you have nothing and no one. You feel like he can sense the curse upon you.

This would be torture. _____________________________

It is not torture.

The next day, to your surprise, Wonwoo is nowhere to be seen. You wait 5, 10, then 15 minutes in the meeting room you’d camped in, before you begin working on your own. It’s slower without him, but you manage.

You can’t help but slightly worry about him. It feels stupid. You know you’re putting too much emotion into a person you’d known for two days, but you can’t help it. You wonder if he’s gotten hurt or injured, or if maybe he hates you and has transferred back. You think even Excel finds you pathetic.

You sit there for three hours, among the ruins of paperwork and your open laptop, running your hand through your hair and typing in sentences that mean nothing, and the wallpaper is off-white and yellowing at the top, and the blinds are closed to the meeting room.

Around 1 PM the door to the meeting room is opened, wood smacking against the glass that surrounds it, and Wonwoo stands in the doorway, slightly out of breath. You snap your head up to him, like the jerk of a lifeless doll, suddenly interrupted from a very disorganized Excel sheet.

“Hi, shit, sorry,” he gasps, slinging his bag off of his shoulder to sit down next to you.

“Are you okay?” you ask immediately, and Wonwoo nods blindly, pulling his laptop out of his bag. “Yeah,” he says, cheeks slightly flushed and licking his lips. “My cat- my cat needed surgery, she got sick last night, it was an emergency.”

You nod in understanding, “it’s okay-”

You can hardly get the words out before Wonwoo rolls his chair back, wheels resounding hollowly on the floor, so he can look at you clearly. “I’m really sorry about this, it was not nice of me to leave you alone with this.” He gestures vaguely to the scattered papers, and you shake your head.

“It’s okay, Wonwoo, I get it,” you say reassuringly, peering up at him through your lashes. “You don’t need to worry about it. You’re here now.”

Wonwoo seems less intent on personal conversations today - it’s probably because he was so late, and now is trying to make up the time. But it’s okay, in fact you’re somewhat relieved, because it dampens the false hope that blooms in your chest, whenever he asks you about your life.

Even if you and Wonwoo work hard and quietly, you slip into the late hours of the night in an attempt to keep on track for your schedule. Outside the windows that separate you from real life, the sky turns orange, and then dark, muted blue, and stars begin dotting its impressive stretches. People begin to leave around five, and by the time you and Wonwoo finish all your work, you’re the last ones left on your floor of the office.

Wonwoo lets out a loud sigh when he finally finishes the second segment of your report, and the both of you slump back in your seats.

“It’s so fucking late,” Wonwoo limply throws his hand in the direction of the window. You smile a little, looking out. Smaller buildings spawn geometrically from the ground, and every once in a while someone walks by with their dog, spotlighted by the stretch of street lamps that stand outside the parking lot. “I really am sorry about this, you know. Really ruined your night,” he says quietly.

You shake your head. “It’s fine, I had nothing to come home to anyway.”

There’s a pause.

Wonwoo looks at you intensely. Oh shit, you realize, was that too obvious? Was that too pathetic? Has it just clicked that you’re a loser that no one wants? You nervously look back at him, but there’s no malice in his eyes. A totally unreadable expression adorns his features, where he’s leaned back in his leather chair, legs spread invitingly. You look away, feeling dumb.

“At least we followed our schedule!” you say. Wonwoo snorts.

“Yeah, thanks to you. If you hadn’t completed so much before I got here, it would’ve been hopeless.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff, blushing lightly and looking at the linoleum flooring. “I don’t know about tha-”

“Seriously, Y/n, just take the compliment,” Wonwoo reaches a hand over, and you watch its movement.

It’s like time slows down, not like the movies, no, like you can stop time with the heavy weight of your gaze, pinning his muscles in place. But you can’t, and it lands on your shoulder with a soft thud. Fuck. His hand is warm and alive on you.

“You did so well today, I-” Wonwoo cuts himself off, because suddenly you’re trembling.

He feels your body shuddering and jerking under his hand, like the wind rattles your door when you leave it open, and he can’t see your face behind a curtain of hair, but he hears you gasp, and, fuck, you look like you’re sobbing.

The man from last night had become so hesitant when you reacted this way. When your body trembled and shook and when you cried, but Wonwoo seems to understand. He peers at you from above the rims of his glasses, and his hand stays put right there on your shoulder.

“Y/n,” he whispers, so sincere it causes a pathetic squeak to escape you. What must he think of you? The thoughts spiral and you can’t control a single one of them, they dance like freed souls in your head, and you can’t stop the spasming of your muscles, and you know you look so pathetic beside him right. “Y/n, look at me.”

You don’t. You can’t. You can’t because there are tears spilling from the rims of your eyes, and rolling down your cheeks, wet and glossy. Besides, you’re an ugly crier.

“Look at me,” he says seriously, finger tightening on your shoulder. You try to steady your breath and calm your tears, before you obey and begin to turn your chair. The simple motion requires so much effort - it’s like the air has become so thick, that the friction against your leather seat slows you down.

Finally you turn to him, eyes first resting on his knees, then, carefully, traveling up to his face. He’s frowning.

Your face is reddened and your eyes are puffy, your cheeks are shiny and you chew your bottom lip in a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay.

Wonwoo looks genuinely devastated. The hand on your shoulder softens its grasp, then begins petting your arm, rubbing up and down. The action has you choking out gasps, trembling even more in his hold, and Wonwoo feels the need to roll his chair closer to you, so his other hand can grab yours. His thumb rubs over the back of it, and he lowers his head to look at you.

“Shh, relax, relax, Y/n,” he whispers, and you try to nod, but it’s so overwhelming; being touched, being seen, being heard, all at once. For months, maybe years, no one has touched you like this - as if they care. Now the feeling is foreign, so scorching hot on your arm and your hand, your body can’t take it anymore. You’re stuck between wanting to lean into his hands, wanting to feel how real you are, and how physically true your existence is, and wanting to shy away. What must he think of you?

“Y/n,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut to banish the sigh of your sobbing. “When was the last time someone touched you?”

You hiccup painfully. “Uhm- I- I don’t, ” your eyes are bleary and your lashes are wet. Your lip trembles and your whole body shakes when you try to breathe.

Apparently this was enough of an answer for Wonwoo, because he suddenly stands, somewhat harshly tugging you into a standing position too, and pulls you directly into the harbor of his arms.

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his torso. His chest is pressed flat against yours, so, so warm, when he nudges your head into the crook of his neck, and presses his face against its side, sighing softly into you, and breathing warm air onto your hair. His palms push you into him, soothing your trembling body, and holding you like an anker. One hand travels up to your hair.

“W-Wonwoo, you don’t have to-”

“Shh,” he quiets you immediately, voice the softest wind of a peach tree. “Just let me take care of you.”

You do. Wonwoo holds you until you stop crying, and though it must’ve been twenty minutes or so, it feels like no time at all. Standing in his space, breathing in his dark cologne, and letting his heat thaw your dead heart is a totally timeless act. Joy and serenity flows from the places where your bodies touch. When you stop crying, Wonwoo holds you for longer.

Eventually, he lets you go.

You step back sheepishly, now much calmer and the red in your face faded. You wipe your tired eyes shyly with your sleeve.

“Thank you, Wonwoo,” you mumble, voice thick and garbled. When you look up at him, he smiles softly, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says softly, arm extending one last time to squeeze your forearm. Then it falls limp again.

“I, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course.”

When you return home, you’re buzzing. Your entire apartment buzzes along with you, things seem to clatter and beam along with the bright, glowing of your heart. You snuggle into bed and nothing is still and even when you’re drifting into sleep, your nerve endings spin in joyful circles, and your feet are a static hum. Suddenly you are very, very real. _____________________________

You’d think the next day would be tense and awkward, and maybe it is at first, but soon enough you’re talking again, more intimately than before even.

This is Wonwoo’s doing - you know this. You know he’s smart and you know he doesn’t want you to feel bad, so he makes conversation and builds trust between the two of you. You know he hopes you don’t feel insecure. Every word he says and every flick of his eyes is riddled with it.

The conversation decidedly slows down your progress, so Wonwoo once more suggests staying overtime. You look at him for a moment before agreeing.

You can’t tell what his end goal is. A chamber of your heart has been revived and rebirthed, and you’re more chipper, more bouncy, but the rest of your heart insists: you’re still cursed - eventually it’ll go back to how it should be. You listen. You try not to get your hopes up that Wonwoo really cares about you. Why should he, really?

Although when you’re done for the day, about an hour after your usual 5 PM, you stand up and begin to pack your things, laptop sliding into your bag and clustering pens in your hand. It’s gray outside, but the sun comes in a single strand through a gap in the smog and the clouds. The wind hoots by the windows, and it smells like the indian you ordered for lunch together.

You stop your packing, feeling a set of eyes in your back. You twist your head to see him.

Wonwoo is sitting completely still in his chair, slack-covered legs spread open, and he makes no move to collect his own things. He just stares.

“What’s up?” you quip. You’re slightly nervous. Just before it was all silly childhood stories, college and weed and life before the dead-end job. Now Wonwoo has that unreadable expression on his face again.

He slowly lifts his hands from the armrest, eyes locked with yours, and claps his palms on the tops of his thighs.

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Wha-”

“Come here,” he says simply. When you stand completely still, like a deer in the headlights, Wonwoo scoffs and rolls his eyes. “What? You think you’re cured because someone hugged you once?”

“Cured?”

“You’re touch-starved, Y/n,” Wonwoo states matter-of-factly, “you need to be touched.”

“Touch-starved?” you echo, a bewildered expression on your face.

“We can also just hug, like yesterday,” he suggests calmly. You envy his collectedness. “I just don’t want you to feel bad. So please. Come sit.”

To emphasize, Wonwoo pats his thighs again, patiently. You step away from your bag with hesitating steps, pursing your lips. Your cheeks blaze when you look at his thighs again - they’re so long, and the folds in his slacks stretch down and centralize on his crotch and- You’re being a pervert.

“Okay,” you squeak and Wonwoo tuts. Why is that hot, you think, why the hell is that hot?

“We can just hug if you-”

You feel bold.

Without letting him finish, you swing your leg over his, and plop down, straddling halfway down his thighs. You thank God you put pants on this morning instead of a skirt, when you look down at where you rest on top of him.

Wonwoo is a little taken aback, but when you’ve settled on him, his hands find your waist and he looks up at you with a hum. Your breathing is a little shaky. Once again his hands provide a pumping of golden joy into your body, and more of you comes alive and becomes real, and you smile.

What had Wonwoo been talking about? Touch-starved?

“What’s, um-” your question is cut off with a gasp, when Wonwoo uses his hands on your middle to tug you closer. You rest on the highest point of thighs that you can without sitting on his dick. Cheeks red and eyes squeezed shut, you hear how Wonwoo hums, pleased. “What were you talking about? Touch-starved?” you whisper, keeping your eyes shut.

Wonwoo sighs, and once more, like the movement is entirely replayed, his hand finds your hair and pushes your face into the crook of his neck. You sigh against it, enjoying how his arms protect you and hide you from the evil of the world.

“If you don’t touch anyone,” Wonwoo begins, his voice low bass in your ear, “you become touch-starved. That’s why you reacted the way you did yesterday.”

His hands run up and down your sides.

“But- but I’m not crying today,” you say quietly into his neck. Wonwoo hums.

“No, that’s good,” he says. “We can stop if you really want, I just wa-”

“No!” your voice squeaks immediately, and, as if he were running from you, you fist his shirt to keep him close.

“Okay,” there’s a smile in Wonwoo’s voice. You can’t see it but you can imagine it.

Comfortable silence. Wonwoo traces patterns on your back and you breathe deeply against the skin of his neck. The two of you function as one living thing, the only living thing left in the office. Chairs are turned halfway, a couple lights are left on. The desks betray the past presence of humans.

“Wonwoo,” you pip.

“Mhm?”

“You don’t have to do this, you know? I don’t want you to do it if you- if it’s just.. Pity.”

Wonwoo sighs, and you feel the way his torso deflates underneath you. He trails his hand up from your back to tap your cheek. You move back and look at him.

Your faces are very close, you can feel how your exhales collide and then scatter, hell, you think you could count each of his eyelashes from here.

“I already told you. I’m doing this because I don’t want you to feel bad. I-” he hesitates for a moment, pursing his lips. “I’ve been there. So I know what it’s like.”

The thought of Wonwoo feeling like this, like you, is sickening. Genuinely sickening, you feel your insides turn to rot and mold and you frown so deeply, you think your lips might forever lock in that position.

“I’m okay now,” he reassures, reading you immediately. His hand finds your cheek and he almost cries out at the way you lean into it blindly.

“How did you-.. I- I always thought it was, like, a lifelong curse,” you say.

“A curse?” Wonwoo grins, thumb stroking over the skin of your cheek. It makes you happy, it makes you feel like your heart will burst.

“Yeah. I guess I just blamed some old woman from my hometown,” you giggle, blushing a little because, yes, it did sound stupid when you weren’t just echoing the theory to yourself, like playing a team sport alone.

“You’re not cursed,” Wonwoo promises, tucking your head into his chest. “I’ll help you, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you from now on.”

He does take care of you.

Every day you work overtime, and every day when you’re done with work, Wonwoo slides you into his lap and holds you, while you curl up in his chest. Then you talk and you laugh, and you listen to each other's music. His hands run warm up your back and in your hair and on your hips, gentle caresses, deeply intimate. For two weeks you and Wonwoo indulge in this nighttime ritual.

You have not felt lonely since that night. And Wonwoo can tell. Your skin is warmer and brighter, you smile wider, your eyes twinkle, and there’s energy in every movement. Your body thaws under his warm hands every night, and sometimes when you smile, he gets so happy he could kiss you.

You realize you like Wonwoo one particular night when you’re falling asleep in your bed and you can still feel the ghost of his arms around you and it lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep, and when you wake up you smell a little bit like his cologne. That’s how you realize. You like how considerate and how gentle he is, you like how sweet he is to you, you like how he looks when he smiles and when he laughs and you like how much he loves his cat. You like how his arms feel wrapped around you.

And you like him, and suddenly your apartment is a song that you dance in, and every photo on your walls is smiling and your bed is always warm and so is your heart.

There’s nothing dead in here, you think, when you cook a delicious meal on the stovetop, sauce bubbling in a stainless steel pan. Nothing haunted about your home or your heart. _____________________________

“We’re almost done.”

“Mhm.”

“I can’t believe we’re almost done!”

Wonwoo looks up, bemused, lips made small and pointed. You’re staring at the almost-done document, scrolling up and down through long and arduous paragraphs. It’s nighttime again - not that you had to stay late today, it was a choice - and the city glimmers brilliantly in the coolness. You and Wonwoo wear sweaters to keep warm.

“Feels like a lifetime,” Wonwoo murmurs, same smile upon his beautiful face. His cheekbones point out from beneath his skin.

“Yeah,” you breathe, leaning back. You won’t put your fingers back on the keyboard. Not when it could be done so soon. You look at him, all snuggled up in a brown sweater. “What if..”

A pause. He tilts his head.

“Well, are we still gonna talk?” you chew your lip dejectedly, feeling a little sad and desperate, but Wonwoo only laughs. It’s a beautiful sound, it’s one you associate with joy.

“Of course,” he says, as his laughter quiets down. “If you want to.”

A shy smile forms on your lips. You turn to look back at the computer, but you hear the now-familiar sound of Wonwoo patting his thighs. You flit your eyes back to him, teasingly scolding.

“We’re not done.”

“We don’t have to be done now,” he shrugs, an equally teasing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes, but, unsurprisingly, you shift over to him, sitting down in his lap. He immediately tugs you closer, fingers searching for stimulation on the seams of your jeans. There’s something different about Wonwoo today, you realize, his touch is more feverish, his fingers dig deeper into the fat of your hips and he looks up at you like you’re a diamond-encrusted chandelier, hanging from the ceiling, all glittering jewels.

“What’s up?” you giggle nervously. It’s becoming hard to breathe with the way he paws at your hips.

There’s something in the air between you, but maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe it’s your mind playing tricks on you, concocting the magnetic pull that lingers between you, the thicker, heavier air, that urges you closer.

He sighs heavily, as if he was dreading this. All of a sudden composed, cool, icy Wonwoo is chewing his lip and avoiding your eyes, looking instead down where your fat gives way for his needy fingers.

“I, uh, I really like you, Y/n,” his voice shakes. “Would you. Maybe. Want to go out some time?”

At the last syllable his gaze locks on to yours, and you watch him visibly relax, because you’re fucking grinning.

Not maliciously, not crudely, not a dime or a dab of evil, only genuine joy.

“I-I would like that,” you control your smile, pointing your lips in the same way that Wonwoo does and blushing all over. Wonwoo grins too and it’s unbearably boyish.

“Okay,” he says, as if he can’t believe it. “Okay. Great.”

The window slams shut, the spell is undone by his hand, the dead defy their only law to bow to his necromancy. Wonwoo is alive and warm underneath you, and you are alive and warm on top of him, thighs pushed up against his and tugging at the fabric of his shirt. Your balloon of heart pops in your chest, and the bone-cage of your chest is filled with helium, that has you floating. Rosy and shiny, your heart beats at twice its normal speed.

There’s a lull in the conversation. It would’ve been a more comfortable silence, if you couldn’t see by how Wonwoo looks down and purses his lips, that he’s itching to say more.

Sparked by his confession, you confidently snake your hand up to tap his cheek lazily. He turns to you with a loafy smile. “What is it?”

He breathes out unsteadily.

“You’re-” he closes his eyes. “There’s so much I like about you. It- It makes me feel really bad that you weren’t feeling well, so I-”

He cringes at himself, one hand pushing away his glasses to rub the eyes underneath them.

“Can I make you feel better?” he asks vaguely.

You huff out a laugh. “Are you trying to ask if I want to have sex?”

He laughs too, behind his big hand. “No. It’s not the same, I want it to be about you!”

You laugh more, and Wonwoo’s face reappears as he lowers his hand. He looks up at you adoringly, dotingly. He’s smiling.

“I’m being serious,” he says quietly, when you finish. He seems less embarrassed now, more so smug. “I want to make you feel good.”

He’s paying an awful lot of attention to your hips, which he has not let up massaging and squeezing roughly.

“Can I..?” he begins, eyes fixed on your hips in his lap. “Can I make you cum?”

Then, slowly, Wonwoo lifts his hands and gently places them around on your face. His touch is always as soft as a hope-laced wind. He’s warm and he’s alive and he’s holding onto you, and you see it in his eyes: you’re real, you’re right underneath my fingertips.

“Please.”

That’s all he needs, before he presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is everything you want it to be; because it’s loving. It’s slow, it’s deep, it’s gentle, there’s no tongue, just the soft, warm, real, alive flows of his lips against your own. His hands on both of your cheeks caress your cheekbones gently, and warm air is spilled in the small space between you. He pulls away, panting.

“I don’t understand it,” he mumbles, before he’s pressing his lips back to yours hungrily. You let out a confused hum, and you have to gently push at his shoulder to back him off again. “What do you mean?” you ask.

“Why you were so alone,” he breathes, transfixed on your lips. “I want to be with you all the time.”

Before you can respond, Wonwoo grips the underside of your thighs, lifting you and himself from the chair and placing you on the desk. You gasp at the impact when the glass table meets your bottom, and Wonwoo is standing over you, suddenly so tall and so broad, and slimming at the waist. His narrow eyes become hooded behind the reflection of his glasses. His head is tilted down to meet yours.

“Can I take off your clothes, pretty?”

You don’t answer, only grip the edge of your shirt, tugging it over your head, so your bra-clad chest is exposed to him. He groans at the sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, nimble fingers dancing across your back to unclip the bra, sucking in a harsh breath the fabric becomes loose, sliding down your arms. “Such a pretty girl.”

“Stop,” you whisper, face warm and red. Your heart has never beat this way. It’s utterly unbearable and addicting at the same time, it’s without rhythm or class, it’s wild. And it’s because he’s looking at you and it’s not just lust. It’s adoration. There are deeper strings to the make-up of his eyes, there are lines connected to his heart, and he’s all flushed.

“What?” he asks. “I’m just telling you the truth.”

Wonwoo throws your bra on the floor next to him, hands finding the hem of your pants. “Can I take your pants off?”

You nod, still so shy and abashed, because Wonwoo’s eyes feel like a pink spotlight, and you are bathed in its warmth. He unbuttons your pants and you gently slide off the table to work them off your legs.

“Your panties are cute,” Wonwoo remarks (it should feel lewd, but he has a hand on your hip, that brushes the bone and he smiles at it). “Thank you,” you breathe, before you’re taking them off too.

Wonwoo doesn’t need to, but he still insists on gently lifting you back onto the table, and he kisses your nose when you’re sitting before him. He’s standing in between your legs, and then he’s looking down at where wetness drips onto the glass table.

His hand slides down your stomach, resting on the fat of it. He’s smiling, he’s so gorgeous, because he’s smiling the most gentle smile at how wet you are and how it leaks onto the table and his hand is so warm on your stomach, doing nothing, yet turning you on even more than you’d ever been before.

He sighs like he’s carrying the greatest burden on his broad back. “You’re so pretty,” he says, almost exasperated by it. He pinches some of the fat of your stomach between his fingers lovingly. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

Then the hand on your stomach slides down further. His large, veiny hand cups your pussy, the tips of his fingers just barely teasing your hole. You whimper against him, hands finding his biceps for support. Wonwoo studies you, craning his neck down to peer at your face, while his fingers begin swaddling your folds.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles, trying to catch your eye where you bury into his chest. One finger dips into your hole, penetrating slowly and settling knuckle-deep.

“Wonnie!” you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Mmm, clenching down on Wonnie’s finger so hard. My beautiful girl.”

He begins pushing his finger in and out of you, pace slow and torturous. His other hand slides up and down your body, squeezing your waist then your thigh, then coming right back up to fondle your chest. He pushes your back flat against the glass, so you’re all splayed out for him and you watch him from there, eyes hooded and legs spread to accommodate him. He breathes in shakily at the sight of you.

“Shit, Y/n. What were you doing hiding all this from me?” His finger picks up the pace, as another finger slips in alongside it. You’re moaning and panting, lips red and hair mussed, unable to focus on his words, when his fingers curl against that spongy spot inside you. Apparently Wonwoo expects an answer though, because he speaks again, voice lower and rougher. “Hm? You didn’t want to go have lunch? What, was it that guy?”

“W-What?”

“Just some guy,” Wonwoo echoes your past words, emphasizing with a harsh thrust of his fingers.

“N-No, I- Hng!” you cry out, when Wonwoo’s thumb presses onto your clit. He rubs it torturously. “I-I was embarrassed because I- I was thinking about you!”

“Oh?” this catches Wonwoo’s attention, as he diligently works his hand within you, staring down at your naked form, fully clothed and tall. “Tell me what you were thinking about, baby.”

“This!” you cry out, too high off the pleasure to really feel embarrassed about it.

“Pretty, sweet, dumb baby. You were thinking about you whimpering and writhing while I fuck you with my hand, hm?”

“N-No,” you mumble, cheeks aflame. “W-Was thinking about you l-liking me.”

At this Wonwoo hastily leans over you, pressing his lips onto yours again, and this time his tongue pries open your mouth, wet and warm in the cavern of your mouth. You moan into the kiss, hips canting into his hand. There’s something so desperate about him then, something so eager in the way he crooks his fingers, and how he kisses you, panting and covering your face in warm air. You feel a tight knot in your stomach.

“Cum on my fingers, please, pretty, sweet, baby, darling,” he mumbles into your mouth, rushing out the words before he’s sealing your lips again.

“God, I think I might fall in love with you.”

That makes you cum. You cum so fucking hard, clenching around his fingers like an air-tight seal, and your cum spills onto his fingers and his name spills into his mouth. The curse comes out with it, escaping like the air that spills out from an ancient, rediscovered chamber, and dissipating into the night. Your heart is beating and you’re breathing into his mouth, nose brushing his.

“Good girl,” he breathes, finally releasing your lips and letting his lips fall heavy and wet on your cheek.

He pulls out his fingers, unbearably wet and slick, and you think for a second that he’ll let you calm down and then maybe he’ll put his dick in you, but as soon as the fingers are out of you, they’re settling back on to your clit, rubbing heavy-handed circles.

You whine, arching your back off the table and wiggling your hips at the overstimulation. His other hand catches your hip and he shushes your cries softly.

“You can cum again, can’t you, baby? You can take it,” he says, so nonchalantly, while his slick fingers rub you. You cry out. Your legs are shaking. “Think you can cum again from just this?”

“Y-Yes,” you sigh and when you look down, his entire hand covers your pussy, as he pets your clit in circles. He smiles at your words, pinching your clit teasingly. It causes a squeak to escape you, hips struggling against his hold, where he pins you to the table.

“Good girl,” he praises, purring. “Letting me use your pretty pussy like this, letting me make you feel good.”

His body in front of you prevents your legs from closing, but, God, do they try, knees pinching his thin waist, and hair bunching up on the glass when your face scrunches up in pleasure.

“A-a-ah!” you cry out. Your hips involuntarily begin to inch away from him, but Wonwoo pulls you back with one strong hand, tutting.

“Don’t do that,” he mutters, pouting. “You need to be touched, remember?”

The whole thing is so heart-achingly intimate. The way he stands, still fully clothed and with a huge fucking tent in his pants, simply rubbing your pussy and looking at you with heart-eyes. Seriously, eyes swimming with adoration for you, teasing words slipping from his mouth unable to mask the genuine wonder he feels, at how you gasp and you arch and you clean and you jerk from the simplest of his movements. And your pussy is so warm and wet under his hand, and his body between your legs is so warm, and you cum again from just that; from how much love he looks at you with, and from the fingers crooking to pinch your clit again, wet and swollen underneath his glistening fingertips.

“W-Wonwoo!” you cry out, cumming again, and your body convulses around his, when it oozes out of your hole. Wonwoo’s fingers gently work you through it. His gaze on you is so intent, so careful and insistent, you can’t bear it, the way he sees you totally lost in the pleasure he brings you.

“There you go,” he whispers gently, fingers letting up and disappearing from your pulsating pussy.

“Wonwoo,” you mewl tiredly, pushing yourself onto your elbows to look up at him. He looks at you, so sweetly, so attentively, hands immediately finding your back to stabilize you. “Can I please have your cock now?”

“We don’t have to-”

“I want to!” you interrupt him, brows furrowed and lips in a pout. Wonwoo grins at that and though he may deny it, you don’t miss the red that twinges his cheeks.

“It’s just if you were too tired..-”

“I’m not,” you say decidedly, and Wonwoo nods.

“Okay. C’mere then.”

You’re confused when Wonwoo sits back down in the office chair, fingers working his slacks open. He doesn’t answer to your grimace though, only manages his pants unzipped and in one lift of his hips, peel both them and his boxers down.

His cock springs free, and your confused grimace is replaced with one of awe. It’s pale and veiny, the head is red and thin, white liquid oozes from it, like melted candle wax. And it’s huge.

You’re too slow to mask your amazement, it seems, because when your eyes return to his face, he’s already looking at you, smiling smugly.

“Come ride me, baby.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You slide off the table eagerly, lumbering over to where he’s relaxed against the back of the chair. He looks up at you, all naked and pretty, with a grin.

The top buttons of his dress shirt are unbuttoned, but he must’ve given up halfway. Either way, the milky plates of his chest are exposed, shining gloriously in the warm office light, and he discards his glasses, face fully exposed to you. He’s beautiful, and you think to tell him.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, planting each leg around his, so you’re straddling him. Like your ritual, Wonwoo grips your middle and pulls you closer, but this time it’s even closer than normal. Your stomach meets his dick, all heavy and hot on your skin, and your breath hitches at the sensation.

“You’re beautiful,” he teases, looking up at you. You smile.

“Can I put it in?” you ask.

“As if the answer was ever gonna be no?”

You snort out a laugh, raising yourself by your thighs and gripping the base of his dick to steer him inside. He hisses at the feeling of your hand grappling with his impressive size, and he hisses once more when the head of his cock buries into your heat.

His hands on your waist anchor himself while you slowly sink down, until he’s so fully sheathed in you, you think the tip of his cock must be brushing your heart, because it feels like it’s swinging in your chest.

“You’re so big,” you whimper, clutching his broad shoulders, and scrunching the fabric on top of them.

“Don’t say shit like that, I’m gonna cum, babe,” he grits out, fingers bruising your waist. You mewl, clutching his shirt. Then you begin to bounce.

Your thighs flex on either side of him as you heave up and down his cock, the both of you gasping into each other, and clutching each other for stability.

“Shit,” he pants out, genuinely out of breath. “Fuck, you’re the loveliest girl in the world.”

You cry out, pressure already welling in your stomach and burying yourself in his neck like you’ve always done, and it’s so intimate and he’s warm, and, fuck, he wants you. You can feel it in his grip, in his cock, in his words; he wants you more than anything. The thought makes you wanna cum.

Wonwoo is not quiet at all. He grunts and whines and his words are strangled and garbled, but frequent, showering you in affection and praise, while you bounce eagerly on his huge cock.

“You’re so pretty, baby.”

“Your tits are so perfect, shit.”

“Pretty girl.”

“Loveliest, prettiest, sweetest girl, bouncing on my cock, fuck.”

Praises spill from his lips in purrs, one after another, and when you cum you can’t help but return it tenfold.

“Wonwoo, Wonwoo, Wonnie, fuck! Gonna- fucking cum, I think I’m- f-falling in love with you”

You and Wonwoo come alive. Cum spurts from his cock and into your pussy, and you both cry out, entangled and completing one another in the space where you meet.

And it’s true, falling in love with him is so easy. And falling in love with you is easy too, you realize, because the second he’s spilled his cum in you, he pulls you from his neck to kiss you so deeply, so thoroughly, you think your lips might never unpuff from his hasty, bitten kisses.

His cock, now soft, still inside you, his warm chest against yours, his nose nudging yours, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin, the kiss is totally perfect, and you’re warm, and the windows are all closed and fogged up and there’s no curse other than the most fatal and most perfectly tantalizing of them all: love.

You are not alone. You’re sitting in his lap and you think if you give it a day or two more, you might want to spend the rest of your life with him.

You catch your breaths.

“You’re really good at that,” you say finally. He grins again, perfectly undone, hair tousled and cheeks flushed. “Yeah?” he asks. You hum.

After some minutes of keeping him inside you, kissing lazily, running your hands over his pretty chest and arms, you pull back, beginning to flex your legs to pull him out of you.

“What are you doing?” he asks, hands wafting to still your movements. You furrow your brows, confused.

“Am getting your dick out of me?”

His hands sink down on your hips heavily, fully encompassing his dick again. You sigh at the feeling.

“Don’t do that, silly. You’re touch-starved, remember?”

He tilts his head teasingly.

“So why don’t you just sit snug on my cock, so you can get all the closeness you need?”

#jeon wonwoo x reader #smut #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #svt angst #wonwoo angst #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you

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captain-joongz · 2 months ago

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You know how Hongjoong has those fucking gorgeous thick thighs? Yeah I wanna leave marks on them so bad. Fuck hickeys on the neck, I want to give him hickeys on his thighs grrrrr

(If you write anything sub hongjoong please, idc what type but I dont read dom member ever cus it gives me the ick)

oooh anon you don't even know how much i understand you. do you remember when Hongjoong wore that striped crop top and light blue jeans? those pictures had me going crazy for his thighs and ass for days. our captain is just so well built~

and i'm definitely not opposed to writing sub!idols, it's a nice change for me and i am a switch (tho i mostly lean towards sub, but sometimes i get dominant streaks - especially with joong, hwa and yoongi, those guys drive me insane)

warnings: subby joong, marking, edging, begging, riding, unprotected sex

i go absolutely crazy for marks, so i fully understand your plight, and joongie just has such beautiful thighs and stomach, made for you to mark up as you please. i know i wouldn't be able to help myself

and whether we're talking about idol!joong or any other au, we know that our captain is just a helpless workaholic that will spend entire days working, dragging himself home just to sleep a few hours and then go right back to his job, and that puts a lot of strain on his psyche, so every now and then he needs a good caring for, a reminder that he can let go and someone will give him everything that he needs

that's where you come in, always ready to indulge your boyfriend and help him destress - and one of your favourite ways to do this is to have him all marked up writhing in pleasure under you, begging you for more and crying with how good he feels

his thighs are so strong and beautiful, and the honey-toned skin bruises so prettily, darkens to deep purple, and he responds even better when you take your teeth to his skin, leaving bite marks nicely encircling the dark dark bruises. but what's even better is how he tenses and jerks and jumps with every sharp prick of pain at a new mark made, whines and whimpers slipping out of his lips effortlessly

you always love to see how his eyes grow more and more hazy as he surrenders himself completely to the pleasure, giving up the reins and letting himself be carried by the flow. when he's really tired he always turns so sweet and pliant, all needy and teary-eyed, whimpering anytime your travelling hands brush over his perked up sensitive nipples or when your mean fingers dig into the bruised skin to draw out the burn

and even with his pretty cock all hard and red, wet and smattered in precum, you ignore it in favour of sucking and biting more spots into his abs - you're never satisfied until he's all covered in your spit and love, until there are tear tracks on his cheeks and drool slipping out the corner of his mouth without you even touching him where he wants it the most, cause that's when he's begging for you the sweetest

he'd want to cum so bad, and he wouldn't be shy to ask for it, countless whiney "please, please, please!" spilling out of his mouth, hands gripping into the bedding because he wouldn't dare displease you by touching where he's not supposed to

and when he was desperate, teary and marked up enough, you'd finally relent. the moment you finally sunk down on his cock would have him choking on his spit and moans, body tensing as he fought not to cum - he knew you wouldn't be happy about it, he still needed to earn your permission

whether you'd ride him quick and rough or slow and sensual would probably be up to your mood, but if he was really tired and just needing a release, you'd find it in yourself to take it easy on him, languidly rolling your hips on him and clenching your cunt around him to drive him closer to that peak

and he'd look so fucking beautiful under you like that, pretty tears tracking down his face, eyes hazy and mouth slack in pleasure, head thrown back, tits all bitten up. he'd be a vision, your vision, and you'd want nothing more than finally give him what he so desperately needed

after all, he'd been such a good boy for you, begged so prettily for you and worked so hard so he could spoil you, he deserved everything - and you'd tell him as much, smothering him in praises that would make him cry and whimper even more - he wanted nothing more than to be your good boy

"please, please, let me cum, i've been so good" he'd cry endlessly, and finally when you were also close you'd let him, allowing him to spill himself into you while you rode both your orgasms out. he'd cum with the most melodious relieved moans and then ragdoll into the sheets, completely sated and spent

and after wiping him clean, watching him slip in and out of content sleep and whispering more praises about how he pleased you so well, you'd finally settle in, pulling Hongjoong into your chest and petting his hair as he slipped off into the most comfortable sleep he had in a while

he could always count on you to give him just what he needed

our second ask, phew this one was so fun to write! everybody needs a little subby joong in their life, god just how much i want to spoil him and pamper him <3

hard hours continue!! don't be shy and come submit your own fantasies!

divider from @cafekitsune

#hard hours #ateez hard hours #ateez smut #hongjoong smut

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heartandfangs · 2 years ago

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NOT IF IT'S YOU— PART ONE.

GENRE University AU, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Romance, Angst, Smut, Fluff

PAIRING Nerd!Heeseung x f!Reader

WARNINGS 18+ ONLY MDNI, Jealousy, Cursing, Making out, Arguing, Anxiety, Depression, Flirting, Mentions of food, Brief violence, Brief mention of alcohol, Brief mention of somnophilia, Crying (all sorts), Degradation, Breast worship, Multiple Orgasms, Squirting, Coming untouched, Heavy spit play, Light BDSM, Edging, Spanking, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Cream Pie, Dry humping, Praise kink, First-time blow job, Ball sucking, Fingering, Cum eating, Ear licking, Biting, Public Sex, Light bondage, Dom!Heeseung, Brattysub!FemMC, Sub!Heeseung, Softdom!FemMC, Other OC’s

SUMMARY Befriending a nerd who wants nothing to do with you in a coding class you want absolutely nothing to do with becomes the challenge of the semester— and you’re determined to ace that shit no matter what. WORD COUNT 29k (Fic Total)

AUTHOR’S NOTE Long time no see— it’s P, the romantic at heart! This one’s for the people who play otome games, whose favorite spot on campus is the library, and who are afraid to be loved but want to love as hard as they possibly can.

Enjoy my contribution to the tropey Uni AU genre! Also wtf thank you for 1k followers (If you’re a minor please unfollow me. Idc if that puts me way back under. If you’re not, thank you, and stay tuned bc I will do something to celebrate… once I get through 6 months worth of notifications rip)

See end of part two for author’s note cont.

Masterlist, Part Two

“Have you ever gotten the random urge to give someone a blow job?”

You lifted your head from your notes, eyes wide and scrutinizing. Why did your friend have to be so damn loud in the library, of all places?

A scoff barely escaped your mouth before you dived back into your textbook, “There’s not a person with a dick on this university campus that deserves one from me. Why? Have you?”

“All the time, but especially when I’m on my period,” Rin confessed, “Hormones.”

“Oh, I bet.”

I don’t know how Rin finds the time to think about these things…

Your friend pouted while drumming her pencil against the communal library table as if she could hear your judgemental thoughts. There were more important things for you to worry about, clearly.

You sighed as you began to pack up your backpack to catch your most dreaded class of the semester, coding.

It was an elective you immediately regretted taking, but you swore to yourself to see it through to expand your skill set. Unfortunately, it was just a week into the semester, and the horrid feeling that you would fail a class for the first time was way too real.

Rin continued to spew nonsense, “Maybe I should check this dating app—”

You slung your backpack over your shoulder and ruffled Rin’s hair on your way to the elevators, “You are a slut, aren’t you?”

“Please stop acting like you’re not,” Rin rolled her eyes and raised her voice just enough to carry over the bookshelves and be heard by unsuspecting students, “There’s only so many otome games one can play!”

“Shhh!” You hissed at her to shut up, eyes shooting daggers at the snickering girl.

She must’ve been spying on you every time you pulled out your phone to take a break. What did she have against your little games? After your first relationship went up in flames, they were a pretty decent replacement for dating and soon became an addictive hobby.

They were great time-killers, required minimum commitments, and had a plethora of eye candy to choose from. Even if you did screw up, you just needed to wait a few days to replenish your lives. Plus, they all fit in your pocket…

And they could never break your heart like your ex had.

‘I’m gonna kill you’, You mouthed at her over your shoulder while slamming your fist against the elevator button.

Rin tapped her lips with her middle finger and sent you a flying kiss. Deep down, she hoped you’d come across a sweet boy for your own good.

While you stared at the colored lines of code on the monitor in front of you, determined to at least figure out how to embed one damn photo onto your website for tomorrow’s critique, your silent tablemate on your left tapped away at his keyboard with ease.

Everything about the guy screamed overachiever; it was 45 minutes after class had ended, and he was still working away on his project after everyone else had left.

Meanwhile, you were pretending to know what you were doing by typing in some random characters and then immediately deleting them. Being the anxiety-ridden person you were, you managed to work up a nervous sweat, your palms going numb.

Fuck, this is embarrassing. I should just leave and figure it out once I get home.

The student next to you didn’t seem to have any issues, but then again, the course you enrolled in was actually a combined class with different levels, and clearly, this wasn’t his first course in the subject. It was definitely an odd curriculum; you weren’t sure why you hadn’t read the class description more thoroughly.

“Hi! Mind if I sit here?” You asked the student earlier upon seeing the closest open seat available.

The boy didn’t say hello, he merely spared you a glance, adjusted his glasses, then resumed the staring contest with his computer screen.

“Okay…” You said with a touch of annoyance in your tone. His eyes barely shifted to your face in response, and then he was back to typing.

His standoffish attitude from the moment you walked into the class and took the closest open seat next to him irked you more than it should’ve.

It wasn’t until you sat down next to him that you were thrown off by how big the guy actually was, but even more so, the faint scent of sweet lavender wafting off of him. You weren't sure whether it was cologne or detergent, just that it somewhat reminded you of your favorite macaron flavor.

How unexpected. Well, that ruins it, you thought.

Even if the guy smelled pretty damn nice, he was snooty in your book. If he didn’t have such an aloof attitude about him, you might’ve befriended him just to reach out for notes in the class in case you got sick.

Rin often called you a prideful bitch, and you’d brush off her accusations, but deep down, you knew her words had some weight to them. Prideful was a fair adjective; your strong desire to handle your own business kept others at bay, which was great for someone like you who liked to be left to your own devices.

Though pride paired with stubbornness wasn’t necessarily the most beneficial combination when finding oneself in a pinch…

Nearly two hours of the class begrudgingly swept by, and you were still stuck on the initial steps, your brain utterly confused by the jumble of lines and coding rules you had to adhere to. It was a huge struggle to keep up with the pace the professor taught, let alone ensure the material stuck in your brain.

It also didn’t help that the boy next to you had the audacity to pull up a window of manga on the side to read while you were struggling your ass off.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed at him.

Now, the class was well over, and you still managed to convince yourself to stay even though the shit your professor covered in lecture went in through one ear and out the other.

After such a long day of stacked classes, your facade slipped, and you dropped your head into your hands. If you were honest, some of your pride slipped along with it. Since you were so busy, the last meal you had eaten was yesterday’s dinner, and you were starving. There were tons of other class assignments you hadn’t even touched yet.

You bit your lip and watched the boy out of the corner of your eye, debating for a solid minute if you should ask for help. At this point, you were just wasting precious time that could be spent running to the nearest McDonald's for a burger.

In the name of efficiency, you decided to reach out for help from the person you least wanted to ask— but just this once.

“Hey. Could you show me how to add an image to my site? I can’t figure it out even though I tried to follow the directions….”

First, you saw the boy’s brown eyes widen ever so slightly before he looked over you in consideration.

If he says no, I guess I’ll go fuck myself.

“Sure.”

Oh.

Feeling your heart flood with relief, you replied gratefully, “Thank you.”

You were taken aback when you watched him slide off his chair and drop to his knees by your side. He leaned over the edge of the table to take control of your mouse and keyboard, his attention fixed on the debauched code on your screen.

Really, you two could’ve just switched seats, but you decided to let him do his thing while you tucked your hands under your thighs and watched. Your brain was beyond trying to make sense of what he was inputting into your code.

Funnily enough, the silence between you two was even more awkward than it had been before you spoke to each other. Still, you refrained from distracting him, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

After a minute, you decided to check him out instead.

Your eyes shifted between the computer screen and his calm, concentrated features since you hadn’t really gotten a good look at him before.

His black, wispy bangs hung just over his dark eyes, and his circular, silver-rimmed glasses sort of amplified their roundness. They held a touch of naïveté in them– but when you looked at him from the side, they were sharpened due to focus.

Admittedly, he had the softest-looking set of lips, the kind that anyone would easily be jealous of. The slope of his nose was just as cute, to your annoyance.

Your eyes trailed downwards to the pronounced curve of his throat, but just for a moment before returning your attention to the screen of code.

He was attractive in an unexpected sort of way.

It actually was kind of sweet that he’d be willing to kneel on the questionable floor of the computer lab to help you out. You wondered if he was trying to make up for ignoring you at the beginning of class.

“Is this the photo you want to add?” He hovered the mouse over the recent file in your downloads folder.

“Yeah.”

You must’ve really fucked up your code because the slowest five minutes passed before he clicked save on your program, and most of it you spent trying to act like you hadn’t been staring at him every other second.

The boy finally stood up with the slightest groan, and to your dismay, the sound went straight between your thighs.

Woah there.

“Try refreshing that,” He instructed while rubbing at his kneecaps through his jeans.

With the click of a mouse, you refreshed the program to see a jpg of your favorite Shrek meme pop up on your otherwise bare-bones-looking website.

“Wow— it actually works. Thank you,” You were unable to help yourself from beaming up at him, rather impressed at his efficiency.

He merely nodded, averting his eyes.

Was he older than you or younger? Did he work on the weekends? Have a significant other? A myriad of ridiculous questions bombarded your mind.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

That was a good, normal place to start.

“Heeseung,” he stretched his arms over his head and winced at the slightest crick of his shoulder. All your eyes could focus on were the sharp lines of his waist peeking out under the edge of his sweatshirt.

You introduced yourself as casually as you could, “My name’s ___. This really isn’t my thing, so thank you.”

“Anytime,” He said simply, rubbing at the back of his neck.

In a flash of a second, the shameless part of your mind dared to imagine how that shy expression of his might twist into one of pleasure— how his breathy sighs would fill your ears while he was hunched over, bracing himself on the table. At the same time, you pictured yourself between his long legs, mouthing kisses over his bulge, watching him twitch above you all the while.

‘Who’s the slut now?’ You could already hear Rin’s ridiculous comments; she must’ve poisoned your brain with the thought.

Feeling yourself starting to go slightly demented from the turn of events, you excused yourself and threw your supplies into your backpack to leave as quickly as you could, entirely oblivious to how Heeseung stared after you on your way out.

Heeseung meant it when he said, ‘anytime.’

From that day on, there wasn’t an instance where he didn’t hesitate to help when you asked him for it. Each day, you grew less and less hesitant to ask him for assistance which was… interesting.

What was even more unbelievable was that he never asked for anything in return, and you were so grateful, so smitten by him. The assignments you received were absolutely distressing, yet Heeseung didn’t appear to resent your requests and was always more than willing to lend you a hand. Based on your life experience, that was far from normal.

There was a question that you just had to ask a few weeks into the semester when he was helping you work on one of your projects for the nth time.

“Honestly, do you like doing this?”

Heeseung leaned back in his chair and appeared contemplative while stretching his wrists. “No. Coding is a tedious process, but if you’re referring to helping you,” He looked at you with an earnest gleam in his eyes and gave you a small smile, “Yes, I really like helping you.”

It was the first time you felt your heart skip in a while.

Right then and there, you could’ve dropped to your knees and let him use your mouth however he pleased. Fuck everyone else in the class; you would’ve done it.

On a serious note, it was unfortunate that you had nothing to offer him of value in the class.

Your creative mind worked so differently, and you two didn’t share any other classes you could help him with. So you often tried to make up for it by conversing and attempting to get to know him.

Emphasis on attempt.

The downside to your interactions was that he rarely engaged with you on the occasion, even when you tried to initiate a casual conversation with him.

“What are you always reading during class?” You glanced over at his screen curiously one day.

Heeseung was always quick to minimize the extra window when you caught him. “Nothing much, just manga. Need something?”

“What? I— No, I was just wondering,” You’d quirk a brow at him, and he’d return to his task.

Every time you came into class and took the same seat next to him, you’d greet him, and he’d greet you in return but left it at that. After assisting you with an issue, he’d always quietly turn back to his computer and pick up where he left off. Maybe you’d be able to get in a question or two, but he hardly talked up a storm.

Even when you probed him about his life, Heeseung merely gave short replies or shook off your questions. He was so difficult to get to know and apparently didn’t care to hold a conversation with you outside of coding. Still, you were insistent because you were a relatively private individual yourself. Really, you tried to understand where he was coming from.

“I’m so glad I don’t have classes after this,” a yawn escaped your lips as you covered your mouth with your hand.

Heeseung’s typing never ceased, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You stared at his profile, waiting to see if he’d continue the conversation. After a second too long of waiting, you asked, “Do you have any night classes?”

“I don’t. I have work.”

You perked up in your seat. “Oh? Where at?”

“I’m actually about to change jobs, so it really doesn’t matter,” Heeseung responded curtly.

You sank back into your chair. “Oh. Sorry.”

He turned to look at you as if to say something, an apologetic expression nearly taking hold of his features, but he seemingly held himself back and returned to his work.

Still, within the coming weeks, you grew curious about his family as well. One day your curiosity was at its peak, and you rattled off questions about any possible siblings he might have. That was less intrusive than asking about a significant other, right?

“So, are you an only child, or do you have any siblings?” You probed during a particularly long day and difficult class session. When one’s brain was already fried, it didn’t hurt to completely give up on figuring something out, especially if you had Heeseung.

Just for today, you promised yourself as Heeseung was clicking away at your keyboard, helping you out as usual.

“... I have a brother,” Heeseung hesitated, “Stepbrother, actually. He’s a student as well.”

“No way? Same major as you?”

“No…” and he left it at that, making you wonder if they weren’t on the greatest terms... Or if he just didn’t care to share more of his life with you.

Nonetheless, your attempts to converse with him day after day eventually took a toll on you. Clearly, you were bothering him with the questions, but it’s not like you just chose anyone to put effort into getting to know. Why couldn’t he understand that? Most people would’ve loved getting asked about their life and would easily drone on and on about themselves.

Rin would cackle at you now if she only knew of your circumstances. As if you would ever tell her with the shit way things were going.

God, I should just stick to my little otome game apps with automated responses.

After several weeks of your relationship with him going nowhere, your savior became the source of your frustration.

Guys never helped you out without an ulterior motive or expecting something in return, so it was almost inconceivable to think someone like Heeseung existed. His caring personality subverted your initial expectations of him, and you knew his selfless actions came from a sincere place, but still…

This had grown beyond needing his help in class. All you wanted to do was get to know Heeseung because you had taken a genuine interest in him.

Was that asking for a lot?

The day you walked into class and plopped into your seat without saying hello to him, Heeseung knew something was up. The boy had gotten much too used to your greetings every day.

Barely able to contain your irritation with him, you stared straight ahead at your screen and got to work, despite feeling his eyes on you.

Beside you, Heeseung was desperately trying to read your stoic expression. He’d glance at you meekly, and look back at his computer for a few seconds, only to peer over at you again.

This cycle went on for the next few minutes until you heard him greet you first, for once.

“Hey, ___–”

“Hey,” You barely spared him a look and settled back into your workflow just as swiftly.

Stumped by your odd behavior, Heeseung drew his hands into his lap and fell quiet once more.

Just when you thought he’d leave you be, Heeseung pulled up to your side in his rolling chair, that signature lavender scent of his invading your senses. His knee bumped into yours but stayed there.

“Do you need my help with anything?”

“No, thank you,” you replied coldly.

You saw him wilt out of the corner of your eye, and something vengeful in you felt good about making him feel the way you’ve felt for the past months. The other part of you just felt plain guilty.

Feeling suffocated, you abruptly left the class to get some fresh air. You were hoping the open-air foyer filled with wooden benches would grant you a moment of reprieve.

Choosing the farthest bench from the entrance, you sat down and propped up your legs, pulling your knees close to your chin. The evening breeze swept across your flushed cheeks, and you were mortified to realize tears were threatening to spill down them.

It was childish of you to reject Heeseung’s attention once you finally got it, but… you couldn’t help it. You knew the attention wasn’t due to any sort of genuine feelings toward you; it was merely your petty behavior that provoked him.

Was this how it felt to be rejected while trying so hard to befriend someone? Is this how people felt when you made them jump through a hundred hoops to get to know you?

You thought back to when you took the chance to let someone in for the first and last time. Had you just been too much? Or maybe not worth the trouble?

If that were true… maybe that was the reason your first love had cheated on you.

Old feelings bubbled up in your chest, and suddenly everything really felt like shit.

To make things worse, you were sulking. Even though Heeseung could tell something was up and was trying to diagnose the situation, he still infuriated you. If anyone had to deal with an aloof individual for as long as you did, you were sure they’d go crazy too.

Especially if they were as cute as Heeseung was.

Fuck.

There was no way you were about to cry in public over a boy, the most angelic, frustrating boy you’ve ever met.

Not everybody reciprocated people’s feelings equally, and it was simply life to deal with it. Still…

Once you buried your face into your arms, you released your pent-up emotions with a shaky breath, letting the hot tears fall and soak into your jeans. You decided to stay there for a while, long enough until you knew everyone in class would be gone, so you could rest assured no one would see your pathetic tear-stained face.

It was a good half hour after class ended before you made your way back to collect your belongings and catch the bus to head home. Somehow, you cried for the majority of it as quietly as you could.

It actually helped a bit, as it had back then.

When you pulled open the door, you froze like a deer in headlights.

Heeseung stared up at you with wide eyes from where he was sitting; he was the only one left in the class, which you hadn’t counted on.

He wasn’t waiting for you, was he?

“Um…” You trailed off and slowly turned to leave again, but he was already out of his seat, making his way toward you.

Jesus—

You were hardly ever standing next to each other, so facing him head-on at his tall stature was intimidating, even with his cardigan and those nerdy glasses of his. Perhaps it also had to do with the unfamiliar look in his eyes and the intense concern in them.

“Are you okay?” He reached out to touch your arm, but you stepped back and caught him by the shoulders, holding him back at arm's length.

Unable to look at him directly, you stared down at your shoes next to his, eyes stinging again as if you didn’t just spend half an hour crying.

Just seeing his face and hearing his voice brought on a flood of confusing emotions.

“Yeah? I-I’m fine,” You insisted.

Even though Heeseung couldn’t see your face, he saw your tears fall onto your sneakers and felt your grip curl into his shoulders.

“___, if it’s something I said or did…” Heeseung’s voice went soft, and you nearly jumped when you felt his hands slide over yours, his thumbs stroking comfortingly over your skin, “You can tell me.”

His mere touch slowly brought your anxiety down, one stroke of his thumb after the other— at the same time, it sent shivers along your skin.

It’s what you didn’t say or do.

Fear threatened to cut your voice off completely. You took several deep breaths, trying to sort out your thoughts so that you could properly convey how you were feeling.

Here was your chance to be honest with him from the get-go. It was scary, but you needed to try.

“I consider you as someone who I’m really grateful for, Heeseung. Especially after how much of your time you’ve given me this semester,” You sighed, glancing up at him even though your vision was blurry, “You’re a really talented guy. It’s just impossible to get to know you because you like to keep to yourself. I think I understand why you do. Even I don’t like letting other people in all the time...”

Something seemed to click in his mind at your words; you saw his lips part ever so slightly in realization, his eyes widening a fraction.

“... But it’s still hard to be on the receiving end of that. However, if that’s where you want me,” You pulled your hands out of his, letting them drop to your side, “Then there’s not much I can do about that.”

Quietly, you brushed past him and packed your backpack in a hurry to leave.

Heeseung fell silent behind you, and when you left him, you kept your eyes trained on the floor.

The next day, you remained in a foul mood as you chose to sit on the opposite side of your table to avoid the tension of being next to Heeseung for two hours straight. As you expected, the student who usually sat there confronted you about it.

“Hey, this is my seat. I’ve been sitting here all semester.”

You didn’t care to grant her your full attention and continued typing, “I don’t see your name on it.”

It was definitely a shitty thing to say, but you couldn’t bring yourself to give a damn at that moment.

She was stunned into silence and subsequently stomped over to the next row to take her seat next to Heeseung. There was no doubt that he overheard your confrontation.

Class sped by while you were laser-focused on completing everything you needed to get done for that period— without Heeseung’s help. At least one good thing came out of taking notes and watching Heeseung work these past several weeks; your evolving skill set. You were far from excellent, but you had gotten at least a bit better with the basics.

This time, you didn’t plan on sticking around after class.

It seemed like Heeseung was prepared for you not to because the moment you stood up and bolted to the door, he was already out of his seat, hot on your trail.

Heeseung called out your name.

You ignored him, even as he easily caught up with your pace. His silence yesterday already confirmed all you needed to know about how he felt about you.

He caught your elbow, and you stopped to look him dead in the eye. “What do you think you’re doing? Let go.”

Heeseung immediately released you, “Sorry, I just wanted to talk—“

A menacing force slammed into your back, propelling you straight into Heeseung’s chest. Someone halfway down the hall called out a sarcastic apology, but it barely registered— you were startled by how Heeseung steadied you against his hard body.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You scowled, already shaking his hands off despite your body aching at the feeling of him so near, “What did you want now?”

Heeseung‘s eyes wavered, but he managed to hold your scrutinizing gaze.

“Do you want to grab dinner?”

He really felt the pressure of an impending ‘no’ when all you did was stare at him.

You frowned, “What?”

Heeseung gulped but continued, “You don’t have any other classes for the day, right? There’s a really good Thai place just on the edge of campus, and their Pad Thai is the best— at least within a 20-mile radius.”

Was he doing this all of a sudden because he pitied you?

“You don’t need to do this.”

Heeseung looked like he was on the verge of panicking, but just as quickly, a sense of determination overcame him.

He took a step forward, “But what if I want to?”

You looked off to the side, “I’m confused. Why all of a sudden?”

“I know it’s like I’m doing this out of the blue,” He sounded in a rush due to nerves, so he slowed down his speech, “I’m not good with words, and it’s true that I’m easily distracted by my classes. But I do care about you, ___.”

Your chest throbbed as he peered down at you from under his lashes with furrowed brows, “I know I’m usually pretty distant, and I can’t make up for everything in a night, but I really would like to talk with you over dinner… only if you want to join me.”

Heeseung’s expression appeared so hopeful, and his gaze held an amount of tenderness that had you shifting your weight under the unusual attention you were receiving.

What was that look he was giving you?

He felt you brush by him, and he hung his head.

Heeseung felt his stomach twist with guilt, he knew you wouldn’t give him a chance after how he’d been treating you—

“… Fine.”

Heeseung straightened up with wide eyes and turned to face you as you set off in the completely wrong direction.

“It’s this way,” He eagerly called after you.

You came to a quick halt, then turned back around, crossing your arms, “Lead the way then.”

He smiled to himself when he heard the unmistakable sound of your stomach grumbling ever so faintly.

Walking across campus with Heeseung was convenient because the majority of people made plenty of room for the two of you, all thanks to the giant by your side. Usually, they’d have no issue bumping shoulders with you or overlooking you.

Must be nice to be able to part seas of people, you thought enviously.

Heeseung remained quiet for the majority of the walk except for mentioning a direction here and there. All the while, you were trying to anticipate what Heeseung might have to say to you once you got to the restaurant.

The sky grew to be a deep orange by the time you entered the quaint Thai restaurant at the front of the campus. A simple aqua blue neon sign that read 01 Thai shone across asphalt above an old, cream colored building. While you considered their signature menu options, you turned Heeseung’s words over in your head.

“I do care about you, ___.”

Do you really?

“And what would you like to order?” The cashier asked you.

“Oh. I guess I’ll try the Pad Thai.”

“Anything to drink?”

“Just water, please,” You absentmindedly dug in your pocket to hand over your card, but Heeseung was already handing over his.

Your brows drew together as you quietly glanced up at him, not wanting to make a scene.

He gave you a nervous smile, “My treat.”

You looked over your shoulder for seating, “I’ll Venmo you later.”

“No need,” He shook his head, guiding you to a corner table.

“I will.”

Even from across the small wooden table, Heeseung sensed your lingering discomfort, understandably. He looked like he wanted to say something, but so did you, so he waited.

After a contemplative moment, you met his eyes and folded your hands on the table. “Heeseung, don’t tell me you're doing all this just because you feel bad.”

“No— I mean, in a way, yes. I know how I can be, and I’m sorry that you had to deal with that. I never meant to hurt you the way I did.”

I really did emotionally throw up on him yesterday, and his silence didn’t make it any better. Even now, I still feel high-strung about the whole ordeal, but he seems sorry about it…

“Listen, I get that you feel guilty, but if you really do just want to be friends, there’s no need for anything crazy. Just talking would be nice to start.”

“Right...” He stared right at you.

Your brows knit together once more at the uncertainty in his voice.

“Right,” Heeseung repeated, almost to himself, “That’s doable. Although guilt plays a significant part in driving me to do what I’m doing… Please know it’s not my only motivator.”

Heeseung startled you when he reached out to take one of your hands in his. You still looked utterly confused, so he exhaled softly before squeezing your hand and running the pad of his thumb along your knuckles, just like he did back in class.

Goosebumps immediately broke out on your skin from the heat of his touch.

Oh.

Behind his glasses, his eyes were intent; you had his full attention. “I’ve been really out of touch with people these days, and I regret it. However, I had some personal things I was working through. It’s not an excuse, but I do care about you, ___. I hope you can eventually find a way to forgive me.”

At his sudden admittance, your heart rate began to pick up. Immediately you hated how vulnerable his words made you feel, but that also meant that they were real. His forwardness rendered you genuinely speechless; even your mind drew a blank.

It seemed like he could sense it.

“I-I see,” You stared at your daintier hand in his own, then looked back up at Heeseung’s keen gaze.

His brows drew together, and his lips curled upwards ever so slightly, “Am I making you nervous?” He sounded like he was making a discovery.

Heat immediately flooded your face once more, and you took your hand back out of embarrassment.

He gnawed on his lip, his eyelids lowering a fraction, “Sorry.”

A waitress pulled up to your table with a tray of steaming bowls, and Heeseung thanked the waitress as she left while you reached for a pair of chopsticks.

“What kind of question is that?” You mumbled while you picked at your noodles. Your brain was failing to make sense of Heeseung’s feelings towards you.

He didn’t let up.

“You make me really nervous, ___,” Heeseung dared to reveal in a low voice.

As he expected, his declaration drew your attention back to him. Your eyes narrowed at Heeseung, who wore a small yet knowing smile, clearly trying to get a rise out of you.

Is this really the same guy who chased me down to grab dinner with him?

Little did you know the boy sitting across from you was attuned to your every movement— from the quickened pace of your breath to the twitch of your leg when his knee brushed against yours underneath the table.

Naturally, he would be after spending so much time at your side for the past couple of months, taking note of your little habits and mannerisms.

He also knew you’d be skeptical for a while after this, that it would take time to prove his sincerity once more. Heeseung was willing to overcome that by any means.

When Heeseung realized he had stunned you into silence, he finally looked down at his own plate. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

“Agreed,” You were grateful for the change of subject because you just barely survived his sudden undivided attention. Also, you were beyond famished.

All the while, your mouth was watering at the sight of the food, so you took a bite of the Pad Thai and savored the flavorful spices on your tongue. It was pretty damn good, Heeseung had taste. One bite of noodles, and suddenly, you felt as though you were gaining back your senses.

He’s kind of flirty, isn’t he?

After several more bites and a nice gulp of cold water, you felt ready to hold a proper conversation.

“Don’t bullshit me anymore, Heeseung,” You commented, propping your chin up on your palm.

He chuckled softly, and you squinted his way.

“I’ll try my best, ___.”

Over dinner, Heeseung allowed you to delve into his mind, which was certainly a treat.

Not without difficulty, of course.

His answers remained vague unless you pressed further; it was like pulling teeth, but you could tell he was trying. With enough persistence, he divulged you.

“Do you just really like to keep a low profile?” You asked, referencing his deflection of your attempts at conversing with him during class, “I mean, I figured you just found me annoying.”

Heeseung slowly began, “I wasn’t in the best headspace this semester. Things at my old job weren’t going well at all, and those issues combined with the stress of my classes resulted in me feeling very closed off from my surroundings.”

You scratched your cheek. “I see. How does that usually affect you?”

“I tend to isolate myself under pressure, and it becomes difficult for me to connect with… well, those around me,” Heeseung explained, running his fingers back and forth over the grain of the tabletop.

“Hm, that’s tough. Honestly, you always seem like you have your shit together.”

Heeseung shook his head, “It’s… a facade of sorts.”

“Well, a lot of people have one,” Your eyes wandered down to your plate, it had been scraped clean for a while.

The shop was empty save for you two, it must’ve been growing closer to closing time, what with the moonlight shining through the windows.

“Yeah? What’s yours?”

Ah, now it’s his turn to take a shot at me.

Being vulnerable was difficult, especially with all of Heeseung’s attention on you. Silence fell over you two, but he waited, even when it felt like you weren’t going to speak.

“Probably enjoying being alone. Not that I don’t, but it depends on how I’m feeling that day. I see independence and loneliness as two sides of the same coin.”

It was the truth, to an extent. You enjoyed the benefits of being independent, but there was a fine line between that and being lonely.

“It’s a normal human thing to go through,” You shrugged.

It’s how I’ve always been, and it usually keeps me safe. But I can’t believe I just admitted that to another person, let alone Heeseung. Though that’s the whole point of this conversation, isn’t it?

“Um, anyways…“

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel lonely.”

Your eyes flitted to Heeseung’s expression; he seemed cautious yet sincere.

“Don’t be. It’s not your responsibility to make me feel otherwise.”

It was a difficult realization to come to, and as such, you gave a detached response. In due time you’d have to see if he meant everything that he said.

With an inward sigh, you felt disappointment replace the anger that had been slowly filtering out of your system for the past hour. Heeseung was willing to try to be friends, which was more than you could’ve asked for, so deep down, you fought your desire for him. You were being given the chance to take things day by day and come to terms with the reality of your situation.

“Besides, being lonely is a good skill to have. It’s weird to say out loud, but I really think it is,” You stated, glancing out the window into the dimly lit streets, “It’s useful and easier than most people think.”

When Heeseung said nothing in response, you turned to look at him once more, wanting to hear his voice.

Something from him, anything.

Instead, you met those dark brown eyes behind his glasses; they contained a mix of something you couldn’t place and a tinge of sadness, but most surprisingly– knowing.

You fidgeted with the hairband on your wrist. “What? What’s wrong?”

Heeseung spoke, “Nothing… What do you mean?”

His question seemed hollow as if he feigned confusion; his eyes told you everything yet nothing, all at once– like he could see right through you.

You shook your head, voice coming out as a whisper, “I don’t know… You’re making me nervous again.”

“Sorry,” Heeseung blinked and shifted his eyes elsewhere, and suddenly you felt like you could breathe, but just barely.

He distractedly removed his glasses to pinch at his nose bridge, and that’s when your breath caught in your chest.

A slight smile tugged at your lips, “Hey, you look different without your glasses.” You were apt to change the subject.

“Oh, really?” Heeseung moved to adjust them back in place quickly.

“Wait,” you leaned over the table and placed your hand on his to stop him, wanting a better look, “You look really handsome. Not that you don’t with them on, but….”

Heeseung noted how intrigued you looked, the fascination brightening your features. It was certainly a contrast to the way you regarded him just a moment before. “I’ve worn glasses my whole life. I don’t look odd without them?”

“No, but I think you’re cute either way—“ You curiously brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes, and his brows rose in surprise.

Upon realizing what you had done, you promptly sat back in your seat and stuffed your hands in your pockets.

“I— You just look different,” You tried to cover up your embarrassment with a smile.

You hadn’t intended on getting touchy, but you just couldn't help it. Then again, he comfortably initiated way more physical contact with you today than he had all semester.

Heeseung quietly glanced off to the side, and then his eyes were back on you without a moment’s notice, observing.

Ah, there’s that churning sensation in my stomach again.

Even though you could see his eyes clear as day, you couldn’t read him as easily this time.

“Thanks,” His eyes flitted away as he fixed his glasses back in place.

Uh-oh. Did I mess up? Did I turn him off by touching his hair? Or with my comments on his appearance?

“We better go, I think they’re closing,” You rubbed your cheek while throwing your backpack over your shoulder, “Thank you for dinner.”

“Sure. Thanks for hearing me out… and for sharing,” Heeseung led you to the door and held it open for you.

His voice sounded odd, almost tight.

“Yeah...”

It had been a rollercoaster of a day so far; you weren’t sure what kind of note you were going to end it on.

The brisk night air hit your skin and made you shudder. You turned towards the bus stop across the street, anticipating an arrival soon, “I’m headed over here. I guess I’ll see you in class?”

When you glanced back over your shoulder, Heeseung was looking after you in such a way that caused you to freeze. His demeanor had shifted from the start of dinner to now like there was a barely tamed intensity about him. He felt unpredictable— he even seemed on edge.

What was going on? Maybe you really stepped on his toes earlier with your comment about his glasses. It certainly wasn’t your intention; you meant it as a compliment.

He could’ve been self-conscious about it, you idiot!

Heeseung gave you a curt nod, “Get home safely, okay?”

You frowned.

“Okay…” You paused before giving him a quick hug.

Next to free food and a bit of communication, hugs diffused most escalating situations, right?

But even to you, it felt like a blur; you barely gave him enough time to return it, and then you were slipping out of his grasp just as quickly as you had drawn close.

“Bye,” You whispered.

Taken aback, Heeseung dropped his arms to his sides as he watched you jog across the street to board the bus that arrived a moment before and nearly took off without you.

He inhaled deeply.

Now, his whole body ached.

Oh, he hated you even more for that.

The cold suddenly seeped into his skin. It hadn’t affected him until you left his side.

Your bus took off just as his phone faintly vibrated in his pocket. He lost count of how many times it had gone off during his dinner with you, but he hardly paid it any attention. He ignored it for the past two months but couldn’t bring himself to block the number.

Finally, he decided to answer it.

“Heeseung! Do you know how many times I’ve called you today? And the day before? Over the past eight fucking weeks? We were supposed to meet–”

“I was at dinner—” Heeseung immediately kicked himself for even sparing an excuse. There was no need to anymore. “Please stop calling me.”

His thumb hovered over the button to hang up and block her number; he should’ve done it earlier.

“Don’t do this to me, love.”

Anger slithered up his veins, “How else do you expect me to act after all that you’ve done?”

“What you saw wasn’t what it looked like—“

Beep—

That’s what she’d said in the hundreds of voicemails she left, or so he guessed. Listening to one was sufficient.

From that day on, Heeseung dialed back on the forwardness he displayed in terms of physical contact with you, and you couldn’t figure out why for the life of you. However, your conversations in class were plentiful and on friendlier terms, save for the interesting underlying tension that persisted through his frequent teasing comments and lasting stares.

That’s not to say there was a complete absence of flirtatious touching, he simply wasn’t as outright with it. But you noted each subtle instance with amusement whether it was a tap on the shoulder, a bump to the knee or an accidental brush of hands when he’d reach for your mouse.

He seemed somewhat back to normal compared to how you left him that one night, but something definitely changed between you two.

On the other hand, you soon discovered the breadth of his sense of humor. The off-handed, dry comments he’d whisper about some odd gesture or explanation the professor would make had you snorting in your seat— turns out you weren’t the only one who occasionally got annoyed with the way your professor taught.

Even so, together, you both managed.

Thai food after class became a routine for you both, a couple of times a week. Ever since Heeseung made an effort to open up, sometimes you’d talk up until the last bus was available for you to catch if he didn’t have work, and other times, you’d work on assignments together.

For every question you asked him, it tickled you that he had one for you of equal measure. These brief moments with Heeseung stood out from your otherwise mundane campus life. Unfortunately, things didn’t always go according to plan.

One evening, a meeting with your advisor concerning your schedule for next semester ran over time significantly and you were 30 minutes late to your dinner at 01 Thai with Heeseung.

The frigid air lashed across your face the moment you stepped outside the administration building causing you to wince. It was an evening filled with storm clouds, and the sun had long set; it was starting to get darker earlier in the day. You reached into your pocket to update Heeseung on your whereabouts but let out a frustrated grunt when you realized your phone had died on you.

Fuck.

The restaurant was on the complete other side of campus so you decided to cut through a back way that was a bit more obscure but quicker than usual. The first droplets of rain hit your skin before it turned into an outright downpour by the time you were half way across campus.

Just my luck.

There weren’t a whole lot of shaded areas along the buildings in the back route you took so you braced yourself through the chill until the droplets began to feel like ice pellets. It was too much so you chose to take shelter when you came upon the first shaded area that came into view near the back exit of a building.

Something on the floor caught your eye as you quickly approached. A dog with soaked fur was curled up on its stomach and appeared to be breathing irregularly. On instinct, you kneeled down to run your hand over its fur, and it let out a thin whine.

“Oh, you poor thing. Where’s your owner?”

You felt along its furry chin for a tag and found purchase in a sleek, black collar. However, there was no tag with an owner's contact to be found.

Maybe it’s a high-tech tracking collar?

With your back against the wall, you slid down to sit for a moment, enduring the mist that the wind blew against you both, cradling the dog close. “I don’t think the rain will let up any time soon… You don’t wanna come with? You just wanna stay here and wait for your owner, huh?”

The dog merely blinked up at you.

“Alright, then you need this more than I do. Hopefully they’re just around the corner…”

You shrugged off your jacket and used it to dry off the pup a bit before swaddling it in the fabric. After you finished and went to scratch its chin, it licked your palm non-stop.

“You’re welcome,” You stood up with a giggle and readjusted your backpack. Although it was storming, if you let Heeseung wait any longer it would give him the wrong idea.

You received stares from other students the moment you stepped through the restaurant doors since the single layer of your T-shirt was soaked through. Immediately you crossed your arms over your chest but made a beeline towards Heeseung who sat in the corner.

He looked you over with concern.

You couldn’t help but stutter from the cold, “S-sorry. My meeting ran late with my advisor and my phone died—“

“It’s okay, I figured. Weren’t you wearing a jacket in class earlier?”

“I—I may have given it away…”

“To who?”

“To a dog I saw on the way here…?”

You realized how ridiculous it sounded once you said it out loud, but the soft spot you had towards canines made you do silly things from time to time.

Heeseung raised a brow at that, “Did you just lose it?”

“Sure, I lost it on this awfully cold day, ” You rolled your eyes.

Heeseung shook his head with a snort, and tugged his hoodie over his head, “Well, why don’t you change out of that?”

A chill racked through your body but you brushed it off, until you glanced down to see your shirt plastered to your body and around the prominent outline of your black bra.

“Um….”

“Here,” Heeseung deposited his hoodie into your arms before you could refuse, “I’ll ask them for a plastic bag to hold your clothing. Your food just came out, so go change.”

“Thanks.”

As you ignored the stares from others occupying the restaurant and clicked the restroom door shut, you gave yourself a once over in the mirror.

There really wasn’t a spot on you that wasn’t damp. You stripped out of your top and bra then proceeded to squeeze them out over the sink before tossing them into a plastic bag. You dried down as much as you could with a wad of paper towels then tugged Heeseung’s hoodie over your head.

Immediately, you were enveloped by his scent; a light sweetness with new undertones of soft musk you hadn’t detected before. The fabric was still warm against your skin with his body heat which made you feel odd.

You slowly tugged the collar up to your nose then dropped the fabric abruptly.

Let’s not make this weird. It certainly beats being cold and wet.

Heeseung eyed you once you remerged. “I ate already and was about to go looking for you to drop off your food.”

You plopped down across from him. “Yeah, sorry. Do you have to go soon?”

He glanced at his phone screen. “In about 10 minutes, for work. I’ll hang out for a while, though.”

“You don’t wanna work on an assignment while I eat?”

Heeseung pressed his cheek against his palm and leaned onto his elbow, his languid eyes on you, “Mm-mm.”

You stared at him before proceeding to shovel the tasty noodles into your mouth, “Okay.”

Heeseung chuckled, “How’d your meeting go?”

“Fine, I guess. My advisor thought he screwed up and almost made me think I had to take an extra two classes, but we straightened that out. I’m on track, and I’ll have a decent load to finish off next semester since it’s my last.”

Heeseung looked like he was in thought as you shared your schedule with him.

“None of those classes ring a bell.”

That fact bummed you out, more than you’d ever show. “Oh, really? What’s your semester looking like next year?”

“Hm, since it’s my last semester too, I’m thinking of going for an internship, it’s about time.”

You dabbed at your lips with a napkin, “That’s actually really good. I need to do that…”

“It’ll help when you apply for jobs, for sure.”

The impending doom of your future weighed heavily on your shoulders, and Heeseung seemed to notice you suddenly felt burdened.

“So, you like dogs?”

You glanced up mid-chew, “I do!”

“Did you really give a dog your jacket?” Heeseung squinted.

“Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“Maybe the second time around,” He was amused at how you pouted, “What breeds do you like?”

“I like all breeds. The funniest dogs are ones that are like humans. During last thanksgiving there was this one dog at my aunt’s that wouldn’t let me pet him at first. So, I let him be and sat in the living room alone, but every so often he would saunter in and get closer to me every time,” You laughed at the memory, “Then eventually he got so close, I just stuck my hand out and he pressed up against me for pets. Finicky but adorable…”

Heeseung cleared his throat, and wore a sheepish expression, “Sounds like it… You don’t own any dogs?”

“Not yet. I’m saving up and waiting ‘till I’m done with school. I want to be able to give it the attention it deserves.”

“I think that’s smart.”

You sighed, “Yeah… I wish I had one.”

As you finished your food, Heeseung finally said what was truly on his mind.

“You should be more careful about walking around campus without a working phone. It gets dark faster these days,” He began.

His scolding caught you off guard.

“I am cautious, I’m not dumb,” You interrupted, “And I didn’t mean to. I would’ve charged it in the library or something but I didn’t want to keep you waiting—“

“It would’ve been fine if you left me waiting a little longer to do that. It’s such a big campus where anything could happen when you least expect it, so you should always have your phone on,” Heeseung motioned for you to hand over your phone, “And I know you know that.”

You pouted but dropped it into his hand, and he connected it to a portable charger he took out of his backpack, “Alright, mother.”

Heeseung sighed but gave you a small smile anyways.

“Are you still at your old job or did you start your new one already?” You asked since Heeseung felt at liberty to say what he wanted.

Heeseung’s eyes turned troubled. “Still there. Just for a little while longer.”

You pressed, “Where do you work?”

Heeseung’s lips parted to answer but he seemed to think better of it.

“It’s not the greatest place,” Heeseung checked his phone and stood up, “Sorry, I’ve gotta go. See you.”

You bit your tongue. “Won’t you get all wet if you’re walking to work?”

“Uber,” was all he said with a tight smile, “Don’t worry about it. Get home safe.”

Heeseung left you his charger as he stepped outside into the rain, the deep slope of his shoulders inciting a sense of regret in you. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pushed him on the topic when it was clearly sensitive for him. He didn’t deserve your snappy attitude after he expressed his worry for you either… but you knew he wouldn’t hold you to it because that’s the kind of person he was.

When you weren’t grabbing dinner with Heeseung, there were evenings when you would pour over your studies and meet Rin in the library, like you always had.

“So, how are your otome games going? On to the next one?” She questioned.

Oh shit. You’ve been neglecting your pixel husbands basically since the start of the semester—

“I actually haven’t touched any games in a while.”

“Really now?” Rin seemed unsurprised at such a revelation as she continued, “How about that coding class? These days you seem less stressed about it….”

“Yeah, I finally picked up a thing or two. There’s actually this guy who’s been—“

Rin jumped out of her seat and pointed at you accusingly, the screech of her chair drawing annoyed looks from other students.

“I’ve been fucking waiting for you to bring him up!”

Your eyes widened, “Wait, how do you—”

“Shhhh!” Someone hushed.

You both put your heads together and dropped your voices to a whisper.

“How do you know Heeseung?”

Rin explained everything in detail, perhaps too much detail. Figuring out Heeseung consulted her the day you cried in front of him made your face burn.

Apparently, he hung out enough in the library to recognize Rin as your friend, although you certainly had never seen him while studying.

“Truthfully, at first, I was mad at the guy for upsetting you; the dude was too honest for his own good and actually told me he was in deep shit with you. I nearly caused a scene in here, but he seemed really apologetic and genuine about wanting to make things right with you.

So, I told him food was the way to your heart, but I warned him you’d be a little stuck up about paying for yourself. Seriously, you have the weirdest eating schedule just to achieve ‘optimal efficiency’ and avoid ‘brain fog’ or whatever,” Rin grinned.

Well, she wasn’t wrong. Free food definitely helped on top of everything else Heeseung managed to pull off since then.

“I appreciate that, but I can’t believe you knew about everything the entire time,” You felt a tad guilty for not looping her in on the situation, having thought she would’ve teased you about it, “And that he actually went out of his way to ask you about me….”

You couldn’t help but look at him a little differently now. He was serious.

“Well, I only knew what happened up until that day, but you seemed better these past several weeks, so it looks like my advice worked.”

You slid further into your seat and stared up at the ceiling, “Yeah, I suppose it did.”

“I didn’t want to ruin anything, so I stayed quiet. He’s very cute,” She grinned at you.

You paused, “We’re just friends.”

“What? All that drama for a friendship?”

“Hm…”

Rin rose an impeccably plucked brow at you.

“Yes,” You sighed, patting her head.

Your friend pouted, “I would’ve guessed otherwise, girl. There’s still time, though.”

Was there?

Soon enough, another month had flown by— finals were around the corner, and both you and Heeseung were typing up code for your class project when you ran into your first distressing issue in a while.

You called to him without taking your eyes off the screen, “Hey, something’s off, and I can’t figure out what. I swear if it’s just an extra period somewhere, I’m gonna—“

Heeseung was at your side in a heartbeat, “Let me see.”

You scooted your chair over to make room for his, but he got comfortable on the floor. “Stop kneeling. You know you’re gonna permanently fuck up your kneecaps, right?”

“I’m used to it,” He said simply before he froze up as if he had said something wrong.

Assuming that he was poking at you, you scoffed, “I don’t ask you for help that often anymore, Hee.”

Heeseung cleared his throat and got to work on your code, “No, I know.”

While you waited for him to finish diagnosing the issue, you secretly inhaled his familiar, comforting scent of sweet lavender out of habit.

You saw him smirk out of the corner of your eye.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Seriously, what?”

He shrugged, “You’re doing that thing you do every time I get close.”

Fuck. When did he even– Fuck—

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The tapping of keys halted.

A mischievous lilt made its way into his voice as he faced you, “We’re gonna go that route?”

“Yes. Yes, we are because you are not going to out me here,” You hissed under your breath.

“Ha, so you admit that you do take a whiff—“

You took hold of his jaw and forced him to face your computer screen, “Focus.”

Heeseung eyes darkened, but he let out a chuckle.

You were pressing two fingers to your temple and looking anywhere but at him, so you failed to notice. For the moment, you put aside your pride and stayed quiet until he figured out what the hell was wrong with your project.

God, how embarrassing.

A few keyboard and mouse clicks later, and Heeseung was settling back into his seat. “It was an extra period on line 976.”

“Of course it was,” You rolled your eyes and heard him laugh even harder. He was quick to figure out how often he could test your patience…

“Why do you always smell like pastries?” Your sudden question came out as an accusation.

At this point in your friendship, you found yourself blurting out random things that were on your mind when with Heeseung, and he managed to learn how to go with the flow.

“I bake in my spare time,” He said, clearly amused.

You gawked at the new discovery, “I—I guess that explains it….”

“I’ve always baked, it’s sort of just a hobby I never thought to share.”

You swore there was always something to learn about the guy, even at the quick rate that you’d gotten to know him.

“Well, what do you do with all the stuff you make? Keep them all for yourself?” You jabbed at Heeseung.

“No, I just…” His voice quietly tapered off, so you were unable to catch his last words.

“You what?”

“I’ll just give it away to the homeless on the street if I deem it edible,” He muttered.

“Huh,” You turned to Heeseung, “That’s actually really sweet.”

“It’s nothing,” He pressed his lips together and continued, “By the way, I just started my new job, and my shift is in the evening, so… we’re going to have to postpone Thai nights.”

“Oh. You started your new job finally?” Your heart and stomach dropped; you were so looking forward to it before you’d have to really buckle down for finals, “I guess we’ll have to postpone them. The timing, though….”

Postpone them until when? The two of you had completely different tracks from here on out. Would he even want to hang out with you next semester when there was nothing else to bind your schedules together?

Heeseung leaned over to rest his elbows on his knees, appearing contemplative while watching you cycle through the endless thoughts in your mind.

“I work at this new cafe about ten minutes away from campus. Do you want to drop by and check it out after class? If you want, you could study there until I get off, and then we can have dinner at my place.”

Dinner at his place?

He saw the way your eyes blew up, and he couldn’t tell if it was in shock or excitement.

“Don’t feel pressured, it was just a thought,” Heeseung brushed off a piece of lint on your knee, his touch lingering, “I get off at around 10:00, so it’d be a later-than-usual dinner.”

“S-sure,” Your voice pitched unusually high, and you nearly threw up in your mouth.

Geez, calm down!

Heeseung looked pleased as he stood up from his desk and slung his backpack over his shoulder, “Shall we?”

The moment you stepped foot in the new cafe, your body appreciated the drastic change in temperature inside, the weather was extremely chilly these days. Didn’t change the fact that you’d order something iced, though.

“Take a look at the menu, I need to get changed, and I’ll be right out to make you something to drink,” Heeseung ushered you further into the store, his hand at your lower back.

“No problem,” You held Heeseung’s warm gaze and forgot to breathe.

As Heeseung set off to the back, you exhaled and took in the bright, cozy interior of the cafe along with its high ceilings. Evening light filtered through the tall windows, casting the whole place in warmth.

What a nice cafe to work at. I could study here more often too.

The aroma of ground coffee beans and sweet pastries filled your nose, causing your brain to perk up at the thought of caffeine even though it was evening. The people that occupied the space were relatively quiet– the seats were mainly filled with a few students and young professionals.

An empty table was waiting for you in the corner, so you set down your belongings there and pulled out your wallet. Curious about their menu, you returned to the counter to consider the items.

A handsome, light-haired young man eagerly approached from behind the bar upon seeing you, “Hi there! What can I get for you?”

Your brain raced for an answer even though you were supposed to wait for Heeseung. “Um, I’ll try the iced matcha latte….”

“Perfect,” He gave you a thousand-watt smile, “Anything else I can get you? We have macarons that we bake daily.”

“Sure,” You considered the colorful rows of macarons behind the glass counter, “I’ll try a lavender one and a vanilla bean.”

As the boy picked out your macarons, you imagined how Heeseung might look like working his shift here, from his mannerisms to his barista skills and if he dealt with customers easily or not. It was something you’d never thought of previously since you had no clue about his work.

“I threw in a couple of other popular flavors on the house,” the boy gave you a wink, making you blush unexpectedly.

“Oh, thank you so much!”

The barista took a step to his right without taking his eyes off you and bumped right into Heeseung, who suddenly appeared. You noticed he looked especially cute in his work uniform, somehow fitting your exact image of how a barista would look in his white button-down and his chestnut-colored apron. A smile made its way onto your face; his glasses completed the coffee connoisseur look.

“Sorry, man—“

“Hey, no worries. I’ll ring her up,” Your eyes widened at the slight insistence in Heeseung’s voice that left no room for argument, “Jake, meet ___.”

“Hey,” Jake gave you a little wave, despite looking a bit confused at why Heeseung intercepted.

“___, this is my friend Jake. He also goes to our University,” He mentioned while tinkering with the cash register.

You took out your card and gave Jake a shy smile, “Oh, nice. Great to meet you.”

He winked at you, “Likewise.”

Apparently, only hot people work here, you surmised.

You thought you saw Heeseung pout at the exchange between you and Jake, but whether or not he actually did, he ignored your card and handed over your bag of macarons, swiftly stepping away to prepare your drink.

“Wait, I need to pay—“

“I’ve got you. It’ll just be a few minutes,” he called over his shoulder and got to work.

Your cheeks grew warm.

Why did he have to act so sweet sometimes?

“I mean, I knew you had a girlfriend, but you should’ve told me she was dropping by,” Jake chuckled as he pulled up by Heeseung’s side.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She’s not?” Jake questioned.

“But I’m interested in her,” Heeseung clarified while frothing your matcha latte a bit too aggressively.

“Aw,” Jake moped, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, “That’s too bad, she’s kinda….”

When it went silent, Jake playfully glanced over at Heeseung, who was staring him down. He slapped him on the back, “Only messing with you, dude.”

“Right.”

Just as you finished unpacking and settling in at the corner table, Heeseung approached with your matcha latte in hand and set it down in front of you.

“That was quick,” You felt giddy getting the special treatment.

“Give it a try, and let me know if it needs anything.”

You stirred the pretty green liquid with the straw and took a sip, glancing up at Heeseung as you did so. Heeseung bit his lip and tilted his head expectantly.

“It’s perfect.”

“Good, just let me know if you need anything,” He smiled, but before he could leave, you caught his sleeve.

“Wait, have a macaron before you go. Jake gave me a lot,” You randomly chose the dusty pink one that smelled like roses and held it up for him to take.

Instead, he drew close, placing his hand on the back of your chair to steady himself, parted his lips, and waited. You glanced up at him to check if he was joking, but the glimmer in his eye said otherwise.

Woah—

Brain on autopilot, you fed it to him, and he took a bite out of the fresh macaron.

He licked at his lips and smirked at you, “Thanks.”

After he disappeared behind the counter, you dropped your forehead into your hand, flabbergasted. You just knew your face was so red.

This crazy ass—

What, did he expect you to finish the remainder of the macaron?

This was too much for you to handle– Heeseung was too much for you to handle today.

And, of course, you finished it.

Two hours flew by at your table while you were jamming to some nostalgic tunes in your own little world while studying for your upcoming finals.

Feeling the urge to stretch, you took off your headphones and extended your stiff limbs with a wince.

Condensation ran down your empty glass of matcha, and you had finished nibbling on your macarons earlier. Besides the lavender and vanilla flavors you had chosen, the rose one was pretty aromatic, and the other strawberries and cream flavor Jake picked out for you was delicious. The snacks certainly whet your appetite, and now you were more than looking forward to having dinner with Heeseung… at his place.

You peered at Heeseung over the top of your laptop as he kept busy behind the espresso bar; Jake was a very charismatic cashier, as you experienced first-hand, while Heeseung was rather efficient at serving up beverages and hopping in to take orders when needed. They seemed to handle themselves well as a team, as far as you could tell from the past couple of hours.

Girls and guys often wandered in to gawk at the two, and you completely understood why. Nonetheless, it didn’t help the surge of discomfort you felt when you caught two girls checking Heeseung out from behind. There was nothing you could do but seethe in your seat.

Relax. They’re not the ones headed home with him tonight.

Ah, that reminder helped, sort of.

Now you were feeling antsy about the fact that Heeseung had invited you over in the first place. There was no way you prepared in any way, shape or form with how little heads up he gave you, but you couldn’t have easily passed up the opportunity to get a look at his place and spend more time with him.

And if he baked, he had to be a good cook, no?

The chatty girls ended up being the last customers to leave the cafe, except for you in the corner, partially anxious but mostly content because you were alone, and so was Heeseung.

After a quiet period, you were drawn from your studies when a woman who stood out from the average patron strolled into the cafe. She was dressed well enough to convince you that she was a model or at least an influencer of sorts, especially by the confident way she held herself.

Jake welcomed her warmly, and you were about to slip your headphones back on when you heard her speak, “Hello. Does Heeseung work here?”

“Yeah! Do you want me to get him for you? He’s prepping food in the back.”

“Please.”

Who is she? A friend?

Jake made his way to the back kitchens. “Hey, Heeseung! Someone’s here to see you!”

“One sec,” You heard Heeseung call.

The woman stood calmly and patiently at the counter; she appeared to be in her mid-twenties and looked sharp in all-black fashion with a set of alluring, shadowy eyes. An uneasy feeling passed through your stomach at the way she suddenly rolled her shoulders and neck— you couldn’t put a finger on it, but if it involved Heeseung, you didn’t like it.

Heeseung emerged from the kitchen doors, and you became deeply concerned at how his face went stoic upon seeing the mysterious woman. Jake sensed something was off as well and looked back and forth between the two.

“Hi. I hope I caught you at a good time. As you know, I’ve been wanting to chat,” Her tone was overtly sweet.

Heeseung rounded the counter and approached her, dropping his voice to an inaudible murmur.

Whispers were exchanged between them; you focused on trying to read their lips, but it was difficult. They were familiar with each other, that much you could tell. However, they couldn’t have looked like more complete opposites.

Feeling that you were being nosy, you stopped staring and returned to your project at hand, not wanting to overstep any further.

A sharp slap followed by a harsh clatter resounded in the empty cafe, alerting you.

Shocked, your head whipped towards the source of the noise, only to see Heeseung, whose face was angled away from you. Your sights landed on his glasses on the tile floor.

The woman standing in front of him took an easy breath, but the way she flicked her wrist gave away her rage.

Somehow, you were already standing from your seat, crossing the floor, “Excuse me. Did you just–”

The woman kept her eyes trained on Heeseung, “Mind your own business, love.”

Jake jumped in front of you, waving his hands, “Jesus— Easy, easy. I’ll handle this.”

Red filled your vision once your brain registered what had happened, but you had enough sense to stand your ground a safe distance away— for that woman’s sake.

“Get her out of here before I do it myself,” you gritted out.

Jake nodded and was quick to address the woman, “Miss, I’m not sure what’s going on, but you can’t just assault our staff. I’m going to have to ask you to leave immediately due to store policy.”

She eyed you, and her sharp expression slowly morphed into a feigned smile, startling you.

“Just one more thing,” She inclined her chin towards Heeseung, “Then we’ll chat back at my place after you wrap up here, alright, love?”

Heeseung’s gaze flickered at the woman, but he said nothing.

She sauntered up to him, much too close for anyone’s comfort, and reached out to take hold of his chin, her sharp nails gauging into his skin. Stunned, you watched him shut his eyes tightly, how his brows drew together— and then he caught her wrist before she could get any closer.

Heeseung spoke in an extremely deliberate tone, “No. This is the last time I’ll be saying this to you. We’re finished. We’ve been finished. Do you understand?”

As the woman’s fingers curled into a fist, so did yours.

“Leave. If I see you bothering any customers or staff who occupy this space, I’ll let the authorities deal with you,” He warned.

“I’ve taken care of you since we were children, Heeseung.”

The statement took you by surprise.

“We’re done talking,” Heeseung tugged her past you and Jake towards the cafe entrance. She pulled back on his grip, but he remained unfazed.

The two of you watched him take her outside and proceed to lock up the front of the store. Jake quickly followed and began to pull down the blinds as the woman pressed up against the windows. Her eyes slowly dragged over your form in the most demeaning manner.

“Talk about a crazy ex,” Jake murmured to no one in particular, pressing his back against the covered window. You exhaled heavily, speechless at the turn of events.

When you bent over to pick up Heeseung’s glasses and inspect them, you noticed a lens had cracked. One could only imagine how much the slap must’ve stung.

Heeseung touched the small of your back, “I’m really sorry you had to see that.”

Feeling left in the dark, you turned around and gave him a look of confusion, “Exactly how long has it been since you broke up with your ex?”

“Since the start of the semester,” Heeseung answered right away, “This is the first time I’ve seen her since. I don’t know how she found out about my new job.”

“And she still can’t take a hint?” Jake asked while cleaning up behind the register.

“She will now because I’m not entertaining her games.”

You felt relief, but you immediately regretted the question.

What a thing for me to ask after everything that just took place, you thought, ashamed.

“Are you okay?” Your hand was shaky when you reached out to touch his cheek.

His fingers brushed against the back of your hand in reassurance.

“I’m fine. I’ll be better once we get out of here and grab something to eat back at my place,” He managed to give you a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

#heeseung smut #heeseung x female reader #heeseung x reader #enhypen smut #lee heeseung smut #heeseung hard hours #enhypen hard hours #heeseung fic #heeseung ff #heeseung fanfic #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen fanfic #enhypen ff

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starryeyedstray · 2 months ago

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my thoughts on dbh as someone entering the fandom in 2024

so just got into the dbh fandom like in aug 2024. i have watched too much gameplay, read the wiki extensively, read an obscene amount of fanfics on ao3, and am in the process of writing my own. here are some of my thoughts (that no one has asked for):

every fanfic writer who started in 2018 and is still updating their works in 2024 are literal saints and some of the best damn writers i ever did saw and the dedication is fucking unreal. one fic had almost 2 million words??????? like BRUH. some are still ongoing and updated this year?? the dbh fandom in ao3 is not thriving as much as it was in 2018 (i say this purely as someone who's looking at the hits/kudos/comment ratios on older v. new works) but they are still alive!!!!

i am puzzled with the obsession with gavin reed. there are like a million fics that feature him and rk900. i am confused bc he did not seem like a redeeming character at all in my opinion and idk, i think he's just an asshole. i like the redemption arcs some ppl write for him but i just can't with him. i mean you ship who you wanna ship but i am not a reed fan and i am confused how he became so popular when all he did was bully our poor boi connor.

i personally don't ship hank x connor bc they give strong father-son vibes in the canon. however, i am obsessed with how jolli_bean writes the pairing on ao3 since its usually a canon divergence or an AU so the pair meet later in life. there are some fics that follow the canon and do a pretty good job with the pairing, but i just tend to keep it familial between them in my head. (but like i said, ship who you want to ship)

i am glad there's a vague consensus that we all wished alice stayed a human bc i feel like that lends itself to a more interesting narrative post-game. tho i guess her being an android is fine bc now kara, luthor, and alice can live as one happy family in canada forvever lol

i am literally obsessed with bryan dechart's acting as connor. like if you haven't seen him play connor in real life for the interactive #detroit2038 premiere event, then you gotta watch some of the live stream. like he doesn't break character the whole time and his physicality just screams connor and i just really appreciate how much effort he put in as an actor to really embody the character. just so impressive and i wish there was more bts of him acting as connor bc its just so nuanced and ugh *chef's kiss* if they ever made a live action dbh it would be impossible for anyone else to play connor

i love the 28 stab wounds meme. when i watched that scene for the first time it was so jarring lmao

i also love how everyone is like yes, we all know connor likes dogs but he also likes fish bc of that one fish you can save in the very first minute of gameplay hahahah. (his name is dewey and it is vitally important you save him). i also appreciate how the "i like dogs" line will undoubtedly find it's way into every fic possible lol

i think the love for simon is very good and well and amazing but i think josh deserves more love in fics too

it bothers me that when north tells markus "i love you" at the church, MARKUS DOESN'T SAY IT BACK??? LIKE BITCH SAY YOU LOVE HER BACK DAMMIT DON'T JUST WALK AWAY

i love how the fandom just latched onto rk900 and rk800-60 and fleshed out their personalities and i love reading ppl's interpretation of these characters and how they incorporate them into their stories. it's funny they only show up like one time and ppl just ran with it and it's so fun and creative and i love it.

i love the hc that chloe deviated when connor chose not to shoot her. that's the best hc. like it's canon in my heart idc

bless all the fic writers who have mastered the art of explaining how androids mind and bodies work bc there are so many gaps and possibilities left open in the lore and it's incredible to see what ppl come up with or interpret based off the canon. (i still feel 50/50 about when they make deviants feel pain cause like androids not feeling pain is such a big part of the canon and yeah i'll give it a pass if the fic does it for the whumps and the angst but i prefer when a fic finds a canon-compliant reason for deviants to feel pain, even if its just like they got a chip or software installed that makes them feel pain or something)

every pairing that i find in this fandom, i tend to be like... "yeah i can see that." (with the exception of hank x connor for reasons i stated in #3). i'm still like ehhh on reed900 or even gavin x connor bc i just don't think it makes sense in the canon but if it's written well i just shrug and say yeah i guess i could see that. some rarepairs i ended up absolutely adoring were chloe x north and rk900 x north (i realize they're both north but she has such good potential for character dynamics)

idk if it's just me bc i specifically look for fics centered around connor, but i feel like there's not a lot of love for kara at least fic-wise. ig it's cause she kinda just leaves so it's easy to not include her. tbh, i am quite well-versed in markus' and connor's stories but i haven't really explored a lot of kara's. i plan on playing dbh with my partner when i see them again in a couple months and i wanted us to take turn playing different characters and i wanted to play kara's storyline so i've been avoiding it for the most part so i can be surprised with my options. plus, in my wip fic, kara is in canada so she's not really relevant to my story which is why i have in depth knowledge about markus and connor and less on kara.

the music in this game fucking SLAPS. 10/10 kara's theme makes me wanna cry.

okay, there is a common trope in the dbh fanfics where connor loses his memory and that shit gets me everytime. i'm always bawling and anxiously waiting for him to fucking REMEMBER and i hate and love it and eat it up every. single. time. usually, the memory loss happens early in the fic and it's pretty expected but sometimes i get blindsided and i'm like FUCK not this shit again but i can't stop reading it and the angst is so palpable.

i think it's so interesting how ra9 is just like this mystery in the lore that never gets entirely explained in the game. it's like something you can totally kinda ignore but it does have interesting lore implications if you decide to really think about it.

i adore all the characters in dbh equally except for connor who is the certified best boi and my absolute favorite (no one is shocked by this declaration). and the characters on my shit list are zlatko, todd, and sometimes reed.

this is an obnoxiously long post and i apologies. i haven't been on tumblr in years and i just had so many thoughts about dbh and i have no friends to talk to so i decided to dump it all here. i still have more thoughts but those are the ones that come to the forefront of my mind.

tldr: i love dbh and its fandom and i have many specific thoughts about it and you should just really read my post if you care about any of it

#dbh connor #dbh #detroit become human #dbh gavin reed #dbh markus #dbh hank #dbh north #dbh simon #dbh alice #dbh josh #dbh kara #mine

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anonymouscheeses · 8 months ago

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why does Vaggie take Drugs?

Ooof... this is a doozy! Get ready for depressed Vaggie/Valerie! CHAGGIE HUMAN AU LES GO

(Tw: massive talk about drugs n smokin! Like- its literally the main focus 😭)

Valerie used to smoke just to fit in with her friends Adam and Lute, plus the "exterminators" (which I will get into I think next request eheheh 😈). But now that they had a fall out with eachother, she relies on them heavily for other means. She has grown to use them for her anxiety(which, yes, she does have anxiety. It's hell, me and her are twins), although she has become SUPER reliant on them that she goes to any means to get them. Like going to the secret drug dealer that is Anthony(Angel Dust by most). Since he's pretty much everywhere and nowhere at all times, it's like if she wants drugs he is immediately there. It's creepy but it gets the job done I guess.. 😭

(He 100% cares and worries about her. Like, he loves when they talk and tease eachother, they have like a little sibling thing going on and he genuinely thinks of her like a little sister. Maybe cos his sister is dead but like let's move on from that right 😍)

Charlie HATES drugs. Not even hates, she DESPISES them. She tries to get Valerie to stop, but to no avail of course. Despite their differences, Charlie attempts to fit in with her.

It obviously goes to crap. Girl CANNOT and WILL NOT use that "devils dandruff" 😔🙏

(Wym girly- ignore the first image 😍 I just want to go for a peaceful vibe in their "friend" ship. Like they go to the mall, go get ice cream, get in trouble even if Charlie doesn't want to. They are goals fr fr I think im gonna draw them doing random stuff. WHICH REMINDS ME! IF YOU WANT TO SEE THEM GO TO A PLACE PLSS REQUEST! I WANT TO SBB I WILL ANYWAY BUT LIKE- ANYTHING SPECIFIC IDC <3)

What DOES she not understand? Sure Valerie is at a rough time where she feels she has to rely on a substance to keep sane. But.... Charlie doesn't know that. She just simply doesn't know how to understand a person's feelings. Let alone her own.

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qprpbj · 1 month ago

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ik u posted ab this like a million and one years ago but ur pb&j runaway au literally haunts me. like literally stare up at my ceiling at night thinking about how fcking upset soda and darry would be haunts me. so i must know how do u think that went down 😣 like who brought up running away who actually brought it up as a Serious Thing They Could Do was it impulsive or heavily premeditated did they have a very solid plan HOW DO THE GANG REACT TO ITTTT omg this au haunts me SO BAD u have no idea 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ in my head i envisioned it as like they have a plan and a set day but then darry does smth that Really pisses pony off and he’s like “johnny 😐😐 idc we were meant to go in two weeks we’re going NOW i fcking #hate my brother” SO I NEED TO KNOW HOW U ENVISIONED IT i’m dying dead no matter what btw i love ur mind about the outsiders

stop bc i thought i elaborated more on that but when i scrolled down my account i literally made one half assed post and that IT oh that is so insane. i literally think about them on the daily though it’s not even funnyyyy so this ask made me so happy 🙇🙇 (just so you know these are basically all just messages of mine copy pasted from chats with @girlishwhimsies bc i’m too lazy to write it all out in diff words and bc the lore for this au still EATSSSS but id be SOOO happy to elaborate more on anything :D)

- i’m imagining some universe where like. the slap and everything never happens but that also means pony never really has a reason to bond with darrel so it just stays tense and weird for years and eventually he’s like. 16/17 and johnnys 18/19 and everything’s just gotten worse and both of them are so tired of their lives here. pony sees some obscure movie at the theatre and/or reads a new age book that’s set in new york about queerness in some way (idk what movie and/or book. will have to research) a la i’ve seen it in the movies and in the books i’ve read, this place is real, it’s not just in my head btw. and pony brings this to johnny and excitedly tells him this plan he has to just. up and run away to new york. he can drop out and change his name and get new ids (it was the 60s tbf) and say he’s a year or two older and he’ll get a job too with johnny. that they don’t have to just dream about being far away from tulsa, so to speak, they can just. do it. the only thing stopping them is themselves and their fears

-pony going to the library and stealing maps and checking out like 10 books about travelling and saving money and about new york and. maybe one or two he hides about queerness

-them asking dally what new york is like and dally getting all pissed but not thinking much of it. then suddenly they’re vanished with all their belongings overnight and dally knows Exactly where they’d have gone. the gang has to follow them but they never catch up

-dally shooting up in bed one night like a week later at like 3am rushing over to the brothers house all i know where they are. they asked me about. about new york the other day. oh my fucking god and darrel’s all just??? new y— NEW YORK?? what the hell did you SAY TO THEM??

-frankly i think they’d wanna go and look after them but they’re poor and darry has a job so. they just put out missing persons requests and have no choice but to call it a day. darry feels guilty but they were never that close but. but soda??? soda knowing pony ran away from him??

-i think pony would leave some cryptic message in a copy of gone with the wind (ironic) addressed to soda in the cover before he leaves but soda literally doesn’t read so he probably doesn’t find it it for ages. something about how you were the only thing keeping me alive in tulsa but i gotta go be my own person now, get away from all of this shit

-darry turns what remains of pony’s room upside down inside out looking for anything but. there’s absolutely nothing left for him

-pony sends a letter back to soda a couple months later all were safe and sound in new york and we really miss you, sodapop, every day. tell dally new york ain’t as bad as he thought…he oughta give it another shot someday. maybe you too, soda. tulsa ain’t home to people like us, soda, you’ve gotta understand why we had to leave

-he sends his first letter without a return address yet bc he’s not ready for soda to know where he is but the next one!!!

-by then it’s been like six months and pony’s hair is bleach blond (smiles) and he looks healthy for maybe the first time really ever. pony sheepishly coming out from behind his friend in some goofy totally-not-pony outfit (bc he’s fallen in loveeee with fashion. btw.) and soda hugs him so fucking tight he swears he stops breathing for a minute

-you know…darry’s been real choked up since you left. you know he…he gets it, right? he’s like you. n’he’s real torn up you left when he couldn’t, honey.

-maybe you…could bring him here, too. there’s family here for him if..he wants it. he’s just gotta get brave like i did.

#shoutout to lilly for yapping with me about all this a few weeks ago <3 #the outsiders #outsiders musical #outsiders broadway #darry curtis #ponyboy curtis #curtis brothers #sodapop curtis #johnny cade #dally winston #qprpbj #asks #runaway au #i should rly start tagging my aus #this is one of my favs though would you BELIEVE this isn’t even all the lore i have in my head 😭😭#also one thing about me is i WILL make darry gay in every single au and iteration of him ever. smiles

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mxmuffin · 1 month ago

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Confronting your nightmares

Click for better detail

Info about this FNaF AU

This AU is called Together, since all the Afton kids get to live, but that doesn't exactly stop the events of FNaF to stop.

In this specific image, we see Garrett (idc what his actual name is, he's Garrett in my mind) at his new job finding a... Familiar animatronic

#fnaf #fnaf au #together au #mi art #crying child #garrett afton #please reblog I did not spend 3 hours on this for nothing #art #golden freddy #fredbear

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lvrcpid · 2 years ago

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headcannons - modern!au

— my personal headcannons for my modern!au

neteyam

- keeps his room really tidy

- he probably works at tillys or footlocker

- most likely has a newer car since he’s a top tier child

- had braces from age 10 to 15

- i think he keeps his locs short

- speaking of locs, he knows how to retwist so he saves money on that part

- he’s allergic to nuts and blueberries

- he loves 2pac and biggie

- his favorite holiday is most likely christmas

- cargo pants are his go to

- probably asked lo’ak to put him on with you

- has the prettiest smile ever

lo’ak

- he doesn’t wanna work , he kisses up to mo’at for money

- he wears glasses and sometimes contacts

- he has his permit , his 9 months aren’t up yet 💀

- probably makes soundcloud music but it’s actually good

- he doesn’t tell anyone this but he wants to be a vet when he grows up

- he’s a dog lover , wants a dog named rico

- always taking tsireya on dates cause his love language is quality time

- he vapes. i’m sorry he just does.

- probably still gets in hella trouble

- when and if he does get a job, he works at footlocker/tillys with neteyam (he didn’t wanna do the interviews , he thinks they’re cringe)

- his room either smells of his vapes, chips or the occasional wallflowers neytiri makes him use

- everyone thinks his name is so cool and unique

kiri

- she plays guitar. no more.

- has a pet guinea pig

- probably plays roblox in her free time

- stays cutting and dying her hair

- she probably doesn’t care she’s adopted

- she bakes a lot

- girl in red is her favorite artist

- vines and incense are a must in her room

- her and rotxo are dating but they probably have that “im not ashamed of you i just don’t want everyone in our business” type relationship

- she works at khols and gets khols cash for her mom

- she probably smokes weed

- she definitely does.

- she’s not like always high but she’s always high

ao’nung

- he loves sleeping

- he also wears glasses but hate the way they shape his face

- he probably has a few tattoos ngl

- he stays looking at fight videos on twitter

- idc he’s a big cuddler

- he’s the type to see crying as a weakness

- still has ronals smile

- speaking of ronal he’s a mommas boy

- the type to secretly take pictures of you and set them as his background and get flustered when you point it out

- he probably doesn’t work since being an athlete takes up most of his time but when the season is over he works at zumiez

tsireya

- a big crybaby ngl

- pageant princess back in the day

- she probably knows how to play the violin

- head over heels for lo’ak

- she wants to marry this boy

- she probably wears a lot of vans

- i see her being prone to sickness really often like she’s always catching a cold and allergies are the devil

- i’m sorry but she vapes too , she does not CAREEEEEE

- avid starbucks drinker

- her favorite food is shrimp

- contrary to popular belief her and aonung are very close and have sleep overs all the time

- she works at a hair salon as an assistant

tuk

- that girl lives in claire’s

- reminder she is 8 , let’s give our girl some credit

- she’s probably not an ipad kid. she probably has her own phone and is surprisingly really responsible with it

- girl is so ready for high school and hasn’t even hit middle school yet

- i don’t see her as the type to kid to love sweets, something tells me tuk is more of a i’ll eat it but i know when to stop type kid

- lo’ak doesn’t watch her, she watches lo’ak

- probably mature enough to be left at home by herself

- she loves mac and cheese

- that is her MEAL

- she never knows what she wants to eat

- they’re always in the restaurant waiting on tuk

- i don’t see her as a big crybaby but moral support for her siblings like she’s always like “i’m here for you” when lo’ak and jake get into it , not like ranting but you get it

- her and neteyam are partners in crime

- her bedtime is 8:30 , 9:00 when she’s completed her homework early

- she’s so SASSYYYYY

#avatar #avatar x reader #awotw #jake sully x reader #neteyam x reader #kiri x reader #sully family x reader #loak x reader #neytiri x reader #tuk avatar #jake sully #aonung x reader #avatar 2 #— saetalks! ☆#miles quaritch #avatar the way of water #modern!avatar

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littlemisslipbalm · 1 year ago

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August, honey, you were mine

Josh Kiszka x Fem!reader - Enemies to Lovers College!AU

When originally deciding to be a film and visual arts student, Y/N had thought her biggest issue would be getting a job after college. She hadn’t known that the other people in her major would actually be her greatest obstacle to completing her degree.

So this photo is insane and likely not accurate to the time that this would be set. However, IDC and he looks beautiful.

Separately, here is my College!AU Enemies to Lovers Josh fic... I started working on this over a year ago and really it's silly because I lost the feeling that I wanted him to be mean so maybe it loses steam, idk let me know what yall think pls and reblogs appreciated - lots of love xoxo etc. more to come.

Summary: Forced together by fate or maybe just scheduling, Josh and Y/N can't stand being in the same room together. Unfortunately, with classes and her shifts at the Lover's Inn, it seems that Josh is in her life more than ever. Can hate turn into love or has something been there since the beginning?

Word Count: 13 k | Warnings: swearing, drinking, enemies to lovers, nauseating fluff, SMUT 18+ (specifics below the cut)

oral (male receiving), fingering, unprotected penetrative sex, edging, mild? dirty talk, female masturbation, i think that's it!

It wasn’t that everyone was annoying. Sure, film students could be a lot, especially for Y/N when she was planning on going into costuming and styling rather than other production aspects. There were just a few overzealous students who seemed to get under her skin more than others.

Namely, Josh M. Kiszka. He was talented in many respects, begrudgingly she would admit that. However, his annoyances and shortcomings outweighed his talents tenfold. One spark of genius would cause ten pitfalls and plot holes, leaving a forest fire of destruction in his wake.

His curly hair was disturbingly trimmed leaving a small rat tail at the nape of his neck for the majority of the time she had known him –at the beginning of this year he had finally cut it and seemed to be trying to grow it out but she didn’t care. He was absurd and even disturbing at times. His smile took up too much of his face when he grinned maniacally. And she could go on.

Now, being in the same major as someone could be irritating at times, but in reality sharing one to two classes a semester shouldn’t be the end of the world. Sometimes it certainly felt like it with Josh since it seemed like he turned everything up to an 11 on purpose. A bursting zipper was a catastrophe, the wrong colored shirt was the work of the devil. But realistically, she only should’ve seen him at most eight hours out of her week – if she could avoid being paired with him for any group projects. She could do eight hours of him droning on about the intricacies of a film and chattering away about his new big idea.

What she couldn’t do was essentially work for him. And she didn’t work for him. At all. But he certainly seemed to think so every Thursday night.

The first time Josh Kiszka walked into the green room at Lover’s Inn, the college town's local venue made for serious music and serious drinking, while Y/N was working, she thought it was some sick joke. She chalked it up to the fact that her karma must be god awful and this was her cosmic punishment.

She had worked there for two years before this, consistently doing backstage work happily for the experience of potentially helping musicians with costuming and styling if they ever took her up on her offer. Mostly, her job consisted of fulfilling riders and babysitting.

On this fated Thursday, it was raining as the fading summer quickly turned into a blustery fall. The trees faded quickly, changing just as fast as they had blossomed. The biting cold of the rain had soaked her hair so when she burst through the stage right door, a spray of rain flew from her head as she gasped in the warm room temperature air.

First rain made people drive terribly, making her later than she would’ve liked to set up the things requested by the band tonight. She was slightly bummed that because she was rushing, she might not have a chance to offer her assistance with styling of the new band, but she thought she’d just ask to help them out at a later date since her manager had told her that if they played well tonight they were going to get the recurring Thursday night spot.

Greta Van Fleet was their name, which she thought was cool, but given their rider, she had a funny feeling that they were probably like most local Michigan bands, mediocre at best, creeps at worst.

The two cases of beers as well as some strange hippie bullshit snacks gave her the inkling of what to expect.

The moment she hears her name from a particular voice, a pit of dread opens up in her stomach. She didn’t know exactly why he was here but she knew instantly that tonight was going to be a long, long night. She finished straightening out the tea corner the band had requested and swiveled around to face the curly-haired bastard. The stupid smirk was already on his lips and his eyes were full of the tell-tale mischief that came with Josh.

“You got a crush on me or something?” He quirks his head with a raise of his eyebrows. “What are you doing here?”

Josh knew she didn’t have a crush on him. Quite the opposite of it, but he loved to see her get furious with him. It brought him insurmountable joy.

“Never in your most self-serving, indulgent fantasies,” She seethes and juts a hip and folds her arms across her chest, taking on a defensive stance immediately. “I work here, Josh. What are you doing here?”

He grins, taking a few more steps into the room before pausing and looking around for a moment. His eyes cast around the worn leather couches, the two rugs mismatched and covering one another, a circular coffee table that had clearly seen too much cocaine in its heyday, and the table filled with snacks and drinks perfectly placed for his band’s amusement, before returning to his classmate staring at him with an appalled but also concerned face.

“Work, of sorts,” He shrugs, the smile never leaving his face. “Moreso play.”

She rolls her eyes but feels her breath hitch as Josh crosses the room further, coming extremely close to her. Her eyes widen as he continues to smile at her with an innocence she knew was an act. It doesn’t leave his intensely sculpted face that was unseasonably tanned for Michigan, even if summer had just ended. His hand reaches out to the right of her frame and plucks a fruit snack pack from the basket she had placed them in five minutes prior.

“Those are for–”

“The band?” He asks, his head cocked to the side once more, after finishing tearing the bag open with nimble fingers. “Thanks, by the way, lover. You got my favorite brand.”

The pure joy Josh had just found in seeing her face contort in disgust at the nickname he had just come up with meant it wasn’t going away anytime soon. He thought he was clever for calling her something inaccurate yet also fitting since her place of work was called Lover’s Inn. In his eyes, it was perfect.

“You’re not…” She trails off seeing the delight in Josh’s features.

He nods, not taking a step back from her personal space and popping an organic fruit snack into his smug mouth. “I am. The lead singer, actually.”

She turns back around to remove herself from the close proximity of Josh. “You’re just bullshitting me,” She mutters, shaking her head, refusing to believe him despite her knowing realistically, it was likely true.

“No –” His next thought, likely one to continue his aggravating crusade, was cut off by someone else’s voice.

“Josh, y’know you could help with the drum kit, like you’re supposed to,” A younger man with long flowing locks complains as he carries in two bass cases. His hair was damp, but drying, signifying the rain was subsiding. Josh’s hair had given no indication of the weather due to the drying but jarringly yellow umbrella that lay abandoned by the door.

Once the cases are carefully set down in a corner of the room, he realizes that Josh was not alone. He uses a hand to flip his long hair back from his face and regards the other person in the room, coming to Josh’s side.

“Hey,” He sticks the same hand out and has a goofily familiar grin on his face. “I’m Sam.”

She takes his hand, telling him her name while giving his hand a shake before letting go rather quickly, she was confused.

“You’re in the band,” She confirms to Sam, who nods affirmatively. “And Josh is in it too?” She asks more skeptically.

“Sure is,” Sam looks at Josh quickly before smiling again, like an all knowing fox. “He likes to act like we’re already famous and don’t have to load our own equipment, but we’ll be lucky to score this gig, Ja–”

“Okay, Sammy,” Josh cuts the younger boy off. “I’ll come out and help, just, shut the hell up.”

Y/N quirks her head as she watches them shuffle back out of the same door she had come through twenty minutes prior, watching the way they interact with one another. She goes back to finishing up the table. It looked fine, but she still felt the need to turn all of the fruit snacks so that they were facing forward and make sure the extras of things she had bought were clearly accessible.

Another younger guy with curlier hair walked in while she was still fussing over the table, a part of a drum kit on his back and a drawstring backpack in his hand.

“I’m Danny,” He introduces quickly after shuffling off the large equipment bag and placing it on the outside of the green room door that leads to the rest of the venue. “Drummer.”

She nods and introduces herself once more, directing him to the table of the fulfilled rider items and that she was around to answer any questions that weren’t specifically technical. Her job, after fulfilling the rider, was handling the band before and after they performed, essentially. She attempted to make that more styling and costume related, but in reality she just was there to make sure no one got too hammered before going out on the stage and no one passed out in the green room afterwards. It was a small venue and therefore a small crew but thankfully, she didn’t have to worry about the instruments as well. Just the people.

When Josh returned to the room through the side door, she was still waiting at the entrance. Her body leaned against the inner frame of the door. It was shut to keep the noise of the rest of the venue out of here, and vice versa. She didn’t want to be in the room any longer than she had to be, but she needed to check off with the entirety of the band. It was to ensure that all of them were here prior to their set and to check in with them about anything else they might need. Now that she knew Josh was in the band, she really wished she could just leave. She certainly was not going to ask about styling, she already had her allotment of fighting over clothing with Josh for the week in class on Tuesday.

The surprising thing about Josh’s arrival is the second copy of him that appears behind him. Like the first stranger, he had long stringy brown hair and slopey dark brown eyes. Unlike Sam, however, he was literally identical to Josh. One realization came to her silently, Sam was Josh’s little brother, that’s why his grin had been so unnervingly familiar.

This man, just two steps behind Josh, though, he was more than familiar. He was the spitting image of Josh except for his hair.

She can’t stop this realization from being audible. As the two of them stand practically side by side as they converse with one another, seeming to almost mirror one another, she blurts out words before she can think twice.

“Twins!” Her voice sounds overjoyed at the realization that they were identical. There was a hopeful glinting look in her eyes as her hands clasp in front of her and she smiles. The fact that Josh was a pain in her ass is forgotten for a moment because she finds it so interesting and unbelievable that identical twins were standing before her and that she had known one all along without knowing it.

Josh stops speaking mid-sentence to regard her and he’s surprised by her reaction. The twin looks perplexed as well with a raised left eyebrow. She is wowed once more.

Josh says her name and hands Danny the rest of his drum kit. “This is my other brother, Jake.”

“And you’re twins? Identical?” She repeats after Jake waves.

“I think you know the answer to that,” Josh throws his hands up in a theatric flourish adding to the condescending tone.

Jake replies far more cordially. “What Josh means to say is, yes we are identical twins. Thanks for noticing.”

“I’m sorry,” She back tracks, remembering the situation and laughing, still feeling off-kilter. “I’ve known Josh for two unbelievably long years and he’s never mentioned once that he has an identical twin brother that he’s in a band with – and he talks enough for it to have come up at least once.”

Josh rolls his eyes with a huff of breath, deciding that he wants to continue helping with their equipment and belongings rather than listen to what he was sure was about to turn into a ‘shit on Josh’ situation.

Jake’s laughter is loud and unadulterated as he crosses the room towards Y/N with the same smile his brothers had, except his didn’t make her want to wring his neck. “He’s always talked too much, I can asure you that. What makes you clearly an unwilling acquaintance of his?”

The grin on her face feels like it’s taking up the entire room. Already, Josh’s twin was leaps and bounds ahead of him in terms of how much she wanted to be around this person. She also liked his hair, it was long and pretty, maybe it needed a good shampoo and condition but it didn’t have a rat tail, which was the biggest plus in her book. When Josh had returned this school year without it, she had rejoiced but also been slightly dismayed that she hadn’t had the satisfaction of snipping it off herself. On several occasions, she remembered waking up with a triumphant smile after cutting it off in some of her more vivid dreams. She wasn’t completely sure if she could be trusted with scissors around Josh so maybe it was better in the end.

“We’re the same major, unfortunately.”

“Oh,” Jake’s voice holds deep understanding. “I’m sure that can be a lot. I used to help out on his films when we were in high school, so I know he’s…passionate.”

She snorts and shakes her head, acknowledging what he had said before once again remembering she was working. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.” She casts her eyes around the room and sees that the four guys are all in the room. Josh had returned and was trying and failing to look like he wasn’t eavesdropping on her and Jake’s conversation. “Anyways, now that I know you’re all here, I can leave you be. Just let me know if there’s anything you need before your set. The techs will come in around,” She pauses looking at her watch. “7:00 to have y’all go set up and go over that kind of stuff. You need to be out on that stage at 8, no if’s, and’s or but’s. Also, if you do get the recurring slot, I’d love to help y’all with styling if you’d be interested since that’s more my expertise.”

She hears Josh snort at her last sentence but she pointedly ignores it, only looking at the other three band members.

“How do we find you if we need something?” Sam asks, settling into the darkest brown leather couch like a lanky puppy, all limbs and no idea how to control them gracefully.

“I, uh,” She stops, realizing she normally handed out her phone number since she hated the radios they were supposed to use. For some reason, giving her number to Josh’s band made her uneasy and then she remembered with a sigh. “Josh has my number from previous group projects, assuming he knows how to use his phone he should be able to give it to you.”

“What’s your number again?”

“You don’t have me saved?” She’s exasperated to say the least and a little offended otherwise. They had quite literally been paired in a duo group project their first week of college, two years ago. If he hadn’t saved her number after all this time, she’s sure she would strangle him.

“I think I do,” He looks down at his phone, scrolling through something, “just double checking something.”

“Give me your phone,” She rolls her eyes and places the palm of her hand out waiting for the weight of Josh’s phone to be felt. She types in her number into the search bar of his contacts. The names dwindle until only ‘August’ pops up. She finishes typing the entire number and the name ‘August’ is still staring back at her on the screen. She looks between the phone and Josh a few times before clicking the name and verifying that it was her phone number.

“Why the fuck do you have me as ‘August’ in your phone?”

Josh grins triumphant and satisfied. When she glares at him, he shrugs and plucks the phone back from her grasp. “We met in August, I didn’t remember your name from class and I didn’t bother to ask. By the time I knew it, I couldn’t be bothered to change it.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“Is Lover better or worse than August? Because I’m willing to change it to that,” He continues looking at her with that wolfish look in his eye.

“I fucking hate you.” She says with a shake of her head before addressing the rest of the room again. “Well, if any of you three need me, don’t hesitate to find me down the hall or get my number from the gremlin that fronts your band and shoot me a text. Josh, do not bother me.”

“Only in my dreams, I know, lover.” Josh mimics being shot by an arrow in his heart and stumbles back before winking evilly at her.

“Right,” She sighs heavily and tries to smile lightly at the other three who offer her sympathetic smiles back. “I’ll be back at 7:45 if no one needs me before then.”

A chorus of thanks follows her out the door and she ignores Josh’s voice again as she goes. It’s pitched up and honeyed sweet and it makes her sick.

That was the first night. They had been good. Josh’s voice was surprisingly amazing and the rest of them were talented with their instruments. Jake was especially good on the guitar. She tried to focus on the instruments rather than Josh’s voice but it was almost impossible to listen to just one piece of their music, they all complemented each other so well. Even Josh’s voice didn’t overpower but finished the rest of the music being made.

They had also been clean and on time. Two things her manager liked even more than a good sounding band that amassed a crowd was a good sounding band that didn’t require a lot of assistance or cleaning up after. Greta Van Fleet secured the recurring Thursday night gig at Lover’s Inn. Which ensured that she got to endure more Josh Kiszka in her life than ever before.

They would fight in class and bicker during group projects that they got paired for and then to end her week just perfectly, she’d have Josh at her place of work, continuing to push her buttons and attempting to boss her around.

He delighted in calling her ‘Lover’ and being a nuisance when she was trying to help one of his bandmates. He always had issues with the vests and belts she found for him, despite them being exactly what he asked for, if not better. And he always, always had that stupid smug smirk on his face when he was around her.

In the middle of the semester, the film and visual arts third years were assigned a very intensive project. It could be alone or in groups but you had to do it all if you did it alone. As luck would have it or maybe it was just a cruel joke being played on her by the rest of the department, she and Josh were the only two not paired up who didn’t want to work alone. She contemplated doing it all on her own, but she knew she wasn’t the strongest writer and with the rest of her classes and the Lover’s Inn gig keeping her busy, she had to swallow her pride. Bite the bullet that was Josh Kiszka now entering another part of her life: her life away from both school and work.

They had looked at one another with dismay in their eyes. Even Josh couldn’t spin this as a way to torture her, this was genuinely not his ideal scenario for an important project either. They departed class on Wednesday with a sighing compromise that they would talk about it after the gig on Thursday.

On Thursday, Josh arrived first out of his band mates to the green room. She was there, finishing up unloading the grocery bags and double checking the cleanliness of the room. Even if Josh was a pain in her ass, she didn’t let her negative feelings for him change how she did her job.

“Well if it isn’t my number one fan, lover!” Josh greets, resting his backpack at the edge of the couch closest to the side stage door.

She sighed. She rejoiced on the Thursdays when it was one of the others to stroll through the door first, so that she wouldn’t have to be alone with Josh anymore for the week. Bringing herself to face him was hard, she had already seen enough of him this week and after the big announcement in class yesterday, she really could do without hearing his voice.

“I know you’ve probably heard this a lot before, so you should understand when I say ‘not in the mood’.”

“Oh lover, you wound me,” He gives her moon eyes before he rolls his eyes and walks around the room, continuing to place his stuff where he liked. The band had been working here for two months now and each of them had gotten into a groove. They had their spots and corners that they liked to chill in until it was time to get to work.

“Do you want your clothes or not?” She leans into her hip as she stares at him expectantly, waiting for him to stop messing around with the throw blanket’s tassels.

“I’d certainly go out and perform naked, I’m sure lots of people would thank you for your brilliant idea. Me in my true glory.”

She scoffs and crosses to her tote bag, dropped by the entrance. She shuffles through it for Josh’s new vest and the belt she found that matched it perfectly. The vest was tan with gold embellishments and looked like it would fit his small frame. The belt was also encrusted with gold broqaue and turquoise stones with a loud engraved buckle to finish it off.

With the pieces in hand, she crossed to his seat on the couch. Josh had his legs spread in a way that required her to stand between them or else she would have to lean awkwardly forward to give the clothes to him. She hated even the way he sat, making her life harder. He reclined back on the couch with his arms over the back of it, the light blue ratty t-shirt he wore stretched and strained over his biceps the way he was sitting. Her eye flickered to it for a split second in mild surprise, obviously he showed them off in the vests, but they seemed to bulge in their current state.

“Lay it on me, lover,” He grins lazily up at her, one hand flipping up right and motioning for her to give it to him.

She shakes her head at him and drops them carelessly on his lap. The belt was heavy enough for him to make a groaning sound. Normally she would walk out of the room at this point, just to get a little bit of time away from Josh. The rest of the band was reliable and she knew they’d all have arrived in the next ten minutes. However, something about Josh’s demeanor made her pause. It was something in the way his eyes looked.

Normally they were wide and bright with evil intentions. Today they still looked mischievous but a little more droopy, his movements a little less agile. She stares at his face, searching for the answer and noticing the way he just lets her.

“Finally decided you want some of this action, lover?” Josh mumbles, eyes fluttering closed as he lays his head back against the couch. “Stopped denying your true feelings…”

She crouches down to be on the same level as Josh, her face getting close to his as she inspects him closely. One of her hands goes to his eyelid, as she leans over him, opening his eye manually.

“Are you fucking stoned, right now?”

He swats her hand away from him and sits back up, pushing her back so that she’s still crouched between his legs. His face looms above hers, the lazy grin still visible on his face, as she stares up at him. Their faces are an inch apart and the space is hot in the already warm room. Her eyes widened expectantly.

“Shh, don’t tell August, she’ll yell at me.”

“I am…” She pauses, realizing Josh was still fucking with her. She puts a hand to his chest and pushes him back against the couch, causing laughter to bubble from his lips. “Fuck you, Josh.” She states, standing up again and stalking out of the room with a final. “Weed better not fuck up your singing, asshole.”

“Thanks for the vest, lover!”

Besides strutting around the stage a bit more sluttily and carrying notes just a tad bit longer than necessary, high Josh functioned about the same as regular Josh. After the show, the band loaded up their gear once more in the back of Danny’s van that they lovingly all called the Greta Van. Normally, Josh would hitch a ride home with him and Sam or hang around the front of house getting sloshed with his twin. Tonight, he begrudgingly sulked around the green room, informing his brothers that he ‘had a meeting with the bosslady.’

August had overheard it and rolled her eyes. “We’re unfortunately partnered for an extremely important project. I’m worried I made the wrong choice and should’ve just gone it alone.”

She grimaced as Jake wished her luck while Sammy and Dan gave her sympathetic gazes, mumbling their condolences.

“It can only be as bad as we make it, lover.” Josh huffed, resuming his seat from earlier on the larger of the leather couches.

“Are you sober enough for us to begin planning now?” She glared and folded a leg behind her to take a seat on the far end of the same couch.

Josh scoffed with a flip of his hand. “Oh c’mon it was just a couple bowls before going on to perform art.” Josh trailed off, mumbling as he stared around the room.

“Repeat that?” She urged.

“It’s not like it was the first time,” He repeated louder but still softly.

She groaned. “God, Josh.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Y’know what? Fuck if I care. Let’s just get our plan laid out so we can go home.”

Josh nodded curtly. Her eyes flickered to his face in surprise that he didn’t protest.

“Okay,” She started, speaking cautiously. “I’ll obviously take the lead on costuming and you on writing, but we’ll need to collaborate on directing and creative direction. Do you have any ideas for stories you want to tell?”

Josh hummed, head falling to the back of the couch in contemplation. “Cults, a modern Greek tragedy, a bar comedy –we could set it right here, erh star-crossed lovers? What about you or are you just gonna keep all your ideas to yourself?”

“I was waiting to see if you had any worthwhile ideas.” She shrugged, scribbling something down on a notepad Josh hadn’t seen her produce. “The modern take on a Greek tragedy could be interesting…”

“I also was thinking about something similar with a modern take on a classic film like ‘Singin’ in the Rain’ or something to that extent. I like the idea of a post-college existential crisis coming of age female lead type story but I doubt you’d care for that.”

“No, no, no,” Josh sat up straight. “Don’t put your assumed misogyny on me! I’d love to do a female lead coming of age post-college existential crisis story! How dare you?”

She smiled at her page and then up at Josh. “My mistake.”

Their eyes met and the room felt eerily quiet with both of their mouths shut for once. The dingy yellow lights bathed the room in a homey glow. The worn leather was warm beneath their skin, inviting them to settle in.

Then simultaneously, they said: “Modern take of a Greek tragedy that is a coming of age post-college female lead story!”

“Fuck yes!” Y/N rose onto her knees in excitment as Josh’s entire face lit up, leaning forward in excitement.

“Let’s fucking go!”

They laughed and high fived, feeling an unexpected and unknown emotion of shared understanding and initial accomplishment. They talked plot, characters and logline, the main bones of the project they needed to get started on and split up what each of them would flesh out for their next meeting. It was decided that it would be best to meet after class on Wednesdays rather than Thursdays after shows just so that they didn’t have to hang around Lover’s Inn when it was just the locals in the front of the house and so that Jake didn’t get too lonely when he wanted to drink himself under the bar.

Josh felt a weird inclination to walk her to her car that night. He knew which car was hers, he always looked for it in the parking lot when he would pull up on Thursdays – a 90s classic black Volvo sedan with a dreamcatcher hanging on the rearview mirror.

She had regarded Josh oddly when he insisted on walking her over to the car even though the parking lot was empty with plenty of light. Then she noticed again that the lot was empty beside her car and the bartender’s, who was still working.

“Where’s your car?”

Josh kicked at a pebble with his sneaker and shrugged his shoulders with his hands stuffed in his khakis pockets.

She frowned remembering his high state earlier today. At least he was somewhat responsible, but with no foresight. “Did you want a ride?”

“Nah.” He shook his head vehemently. “I walked in, I can walk out.”

“Yeah,” She agreed. “But it’s dark out now.”

“It was dark out earlier.” He reasoned with his usual smirk trying to win his way out of this one.

“Not this dark, not this cold,” She insisted, pushing his shoulder to move towards the passenger’s side door. “And not this late. Get in.”

In the small interior of the Volvo, Josh took his hands out of his pockets and rubbed them together as she cranked the heat and shivered herself before getting her music playing.

“Thanks,” Josh whispered, grateful.

“Can’t have you dying on me,” She replied. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she was focused on backing up carefully, twisting around and switching gears, and she barely noticed when she finished her sentence under her breath. “For so many reasons.”

In the dark of the car, lit only by the moon and streetlamps around, Josh watched her uninterrupted. She sang under the music she had chosen for the drive. A CD that had already been in the reader of Radiohead.

Josh listened along to the dulcet melancholy voice of Thom Yorke. He likes how she knew all the words but paused every so often to look to Josh for directions.

“Nice house,” she said, turning down the stereo when they arrived.

Josh shrugged, turning his head from her to the classic Michigan two-story with its basic driveway and porch. Dark wood everywhere and an old tree in the front yard. There were warm lights coming from a few windows in the house and it looked like a home.

“It’s fine. Jake, Sammy and I rent it from a family friend so it’s a good deal.”

“That’s nice.” She feels awkward, making small talk with Josh.

It’s the antithesis of their usual relationship of bickering and jabbing and avoiding. It’s soft and casual. Warm and inviting in the familiar seats of her car, with her music. Josh kind of seemed at peace in her car. It was unusual, regarding him looking so quiet and calm.

“Alright.” She breaks the silence.

Josh takes the cue, blinking out of whatever trance was keeping him from taking his leave from her car and getting into his house for the night.

“Night,” he speaks softly. “Thanks for the ride…and, uh, see you Monday, I guess.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, watching him get out of the car, carefully taking his bag and his new vest and belt into his arms.

She waits for him to get inside before driving off. Still unsure of the feeling in her stomach, she blasts the Radiohead a little louder to drown out her speculations.

By the end of November, they were almost through with the filming portion of their project. Yet it was time for a relatively complicated scene. Well, it shouldn’t have been complicated if the weather had been right but unfortunately they were venturing into true winter in Michigan.

Josh and Y/N had settled on the tragedy of Hippolytus after attempting the tragedy of Medea but deciding it was too overdone — how many stories of a woman scorned by a man leaving her could we want? Instead, the twist of Hippolytus in the 21st century would allow for an interesting female lead whose story didn’t start because of a man.

Instead, like Hippolytus, their lead had decided against sex and relationships during college. Josh and Y/N had worried about making it purity porn but decided that they would balance the true story with modernity enough that it would work.

In the Greek tragedy, the woman interested in Hippolytus killed herself after being rejected by him, however that was another place they would depart. Instead, the counter to the lead would be hurt randomly and there would be a need for the lead to help them. This leads her to pursue psychology and therapy—medicine felt too cliche. But she knew she wanted to help people. Their bond eventually grows to love even though it’s not what she intended. However, both the therapy and the relationship help her find meaning to life, bringing her out of the existential crisis that started the story.

So they were filming the scene where the counter, James, was meant to get hurt. The short film was going to be narrated by a modern Aphrodite so some silliness was injected into it. She was interfering with the lead, Hyacinth, in hopes to persuade her to fall into bed with someone.

James lived next door and was washing his car, shirtless, when Hyacinth walked out her front door, about to go to gym—another one of her ideas of how to find purpose in life, pushing her body until it had no energy to think. Jason was meant to have gotten soap all over him from leaning across the hood of the car, like a male fantasy but reversed, and then point the hose towards him and wash it all off sexily. Of course, the student they had cast, weirdly also named James, was attractive but he was an angel and an ex-theater kid, so he couldn’t quite get it right and he was beginning to shiver even though they had the water as warm as possible and were covering him up between every take.

Josh was attempting to hold back laughter but after the third bad take, Y/N yelled ‘cut’ and walked into the scene.

“James, here hand me the handle,” she said.

Taking hold of the metal length at the end of hose that was turned off, she began to instruct James to do exactly what she was showing him. She turned it towards her and held it above her chest with her head tilted back, eyes closed. She sighed for a moment and then briefly moved up as if the water were hitting her face and then ran her free hand against her cheek, allowing her lips to open further and then ran the same hand down the front of her neck, down her chest and her stomach, brushing to the side just as she got to the top of her thighs.

James watched carefully, not phased by the directing. Josh gawked. His eyes almost bugged out of his head watching her and wondering if just maybe that’s what she looked like in a shower. Her soft hands would be running over her soft naked skin instead of her warm winter sweater and jeans, but still. He could imagine. The sudsy soap and bare skin touching the cool tiles and warm water. Fuck. He needed her to never do that again ever.

The last month he had seen more of Y/N than he had ever thought possible. Except now, he looked forward to it without pretending it was because he wanted to bug her. Josh wanted to know what she was thinking about every aspect of their project and he wanted to hear about her weekend and he wanted to kiss her against the walls in the green room when his brothers weren’t there. He didn’t act on the third thing, but he wanted to.

“Josh?” She raised an eyebrow, still holding the hose above her chest. “Josh?” She repeated.

He blinked. “Huh?”

“I asked if you agreed? Does that fit with an Aphrodite induced sexy car wash scene you imagined?”

He smiled weakly and she tilted her head in silent worry. Hopefully Josh wasn’t getting sick.

Of course it is, doesn’t even need a Greek god to intervene and make it hotter, she just was.

“Yeah, yep, fantastic,” Josh rushed. “James, you got it? We’re losing light.”

A cloud was rolling in from the east and Josh knew that if they didn’t finish soon they might get rained out.

James nodded and they ran the scene again. The actor nailed it and after Josh yelled cut, Y/N squealed in accomplishment. They high fived and Josh’s eyes linked on the side of her neck where her fingers had brushed as she had caressed herself minutes ago—professionally.

After that, they wrapped for the day, Josh still concerned about the rain, sending the actors and helpers home. Y/N hung around to help Josh bring his equipment back into his house. They were using the front of it for the scene. On their last trip to grab things from the street, thankfully all non-electronic, the beginning of what would be a long rainstorm began in full force.

This time it was Josh to shriek and Y/N laughed as they ran under the awning of the porch after grabbing everything left as quickly and carefully as possible. It didn’t matter, they were pretty drenched.

She tried to catch her breath from running and laughing while Josh felt his hair with a look of dismay.

“You know you’re stuck here,” Josh grumbled, looking out at the pouring rain. He hated the way she seemed to enjoy his displeasure at being wet.

“As long as you’ve got a spare change of clothes, a hot shower and a gas stove in case the power goes out, I’m fine.” She shrugs, pushing the screen door open and putting her half of Josh’s stuff on the entryway bench.

Josh followed behind with his binder and a few rain-ruined scripts.

“Anyone else home?” She wanders through the hall to the living room, peeling off her sweater and leaving her boots by the wall.

Josh shakes his head, “Probably not, it pisses Jake off when I film at the house and Sam usually goes to Danny’s on the weekend.”

She inspects her jeans and t-shirt before looking at Josh. “I want to shower now, can you find me clothes and put them in the bathroom before I get out?”

“Who made you queen?”

“This isn’t Lover’s Inn, I’m not on the clock and I’m your guest who’s trapped here…feel like you’re supposed to dote on me.”

Josh rolled his eyes, feeling the memory of their feud flickering like an ember in the pit of his stomach. He wants to tease her, say something biting to turn the tables on her. But she was right, they weren’t in any of the situations they were usually in with one another. More uncharted territory.

“You’re annoying,” he offered lamely.

She chuckled and pushed at his shoulder lightly as he passed, assuredly showing her to the bathroom. “Try harder, lover.”

Josh scoffed without turning his head around, but the feeling in his stomach grew as he heard her feet padding behind him. The rain was loud on the tall roof, fast and foreboding. It might’ve been adding to Josh’s unease.

At the end of this new hallway, there were three doors. One to a bedroom, Josh’s, a closet and the bathroom. He opened the closet to grab fresh towels he kept for when he didn’t want to do laundry that week and walked them into the bathroom.

It was surprisingly clean but Josh had his own bathroom, forcing Jake and Sam to share the other one, claiming he was the oldest so he got the most privacy.

She smiled at the tub. “Should I have a soak instead? Do you have any good wine?”

“This is not a fucking hotel,” Josh laughed. He handed her the towels and she gave him a pointed look. “But I’ll open a bottle.”

“Good boy,” She continued to smirk. “Maybe I’ll leave a nice tip.”

Josh pinkened slightly. She’d never been like this before. He felt like he was falling into some world where Aphrodite really was fucking with his life.

15 minutes later, Josh returned to the bathroom where Y/N was showering and pushed the door open. She had music playing but he could hear the water still running.

He walked in and placed the sweatshirt and clean boxers on the counter. Her wet clothes were in a puddle on the floor beside the shower mat and he swallowed. A pretty pink lace thong and a black lacy bra laid atop her top and jeans. He took a breath and went to head for the door, turning away from the clothes. But Y/N’s own breath caught his attention.

Her grunge 90s music was playing from her phone but she was breathing hard and Josh stopped short. His eyes shot to the shower curtain. The place he had been avoiding with all his power. It was sheer. Her silhouette was hard to see but it looked like it was writhing. He saw one of her hands slipping around her chest and he bit his lip. She was certainly squeezing her tits and she was breathing hard and he couldn’t see her other hand.

He put his own hand to his mouth to stop any shocked sounds slipping out. She must have forgotten that he was coming back. When he saw her silhouette drop to the floor of the tub, Josh snapped out of his trance.

He grabbed the clothes and slipped out the door, closing it as quietly as possible just as he heard a breathy ‘fuck’ he would dream about for weeks.

“Shit,” he whispered to himself. Letting his head fall against the now closed door, he took a deep centering breath before knocking loudly. “I’m leaving your clothes out here, kay? Gonna open that wine.”

Her voice was normal in response and Josh was wondering if he had just hallucinated. Had he accidentally taken a gummy and forgotten. Seemed unlikely since he usually wouldn’t when he was working on film stuff.

“Sounds good! Thanks, Josh!”

Josh tried to be normal when she came into his room in his clothes, rubbing his towel through her wet hair. He’d left the wine and two mismatched glasses on his bedside table. He mumbled that she could start without him as he passed her to jump in the shower himself.

On the fogged main mirror, she had written, “don’t work when it’s about to rain!”

Josh smiled to himself and stripped down out of his clothes that were still uncomfortably wet. His shower was much quicker and much colder. He couldn’t allow himself to be in there for very long or else he would’ve started to fantasize about what he was certain had just happened in here.

In his room, Y/N sat on his bed, taking large sips of the red wine Josh had found. She was nervous. Something about this storm was making her uneasy. The scene they had shot had done something to her. Everytime she looked at Josh, she swore he was eyefucking her and that made her feel strange. Extremely turned on. She had thought dealing with it in the shower would’ve solved it but the minute she walked out and saw Josh looking so sullen, still in his rain-soaked clothes sans his jacket, waiting for her to get out, she felt wet again. If anything, the quick wank had made it worse. Already slick and wanting, she wasn’t sure if she could handle being around just Josh for the night.

Now that they were friends, she couldn’t deny how attractive he was. God, it made her roll her eyes. He was talented and attractive and she was sitting in his bed, drinking his wine in his comfy clothes all at her request.

If it couldn’t get any worse, Josh walked into his room with his towel hanging around his hips and his chest speckled with droplets coming down from his hair.

“Didn’t have time to dry off?” She tilted her head, trying to sound casual. Unbothered when she was fully, terribly, bothered.

Josh shook his head, making more droplets fly around the room. “Forgot my own clothes.” He shuffled through his myriad of t-shirts and grabbed a gray one with a Buddhist symbol and black sweatpants.

“You sound like you need a drink,” she tried.

“Yes,” Josh sighed as if he was coming out of a desert with no water. He held his hand out and she quickly poured the second glass and placed it in his waiting hand.

Their fingers brushed and both of them pulled back as if they’d been burned. She met Josh’s widened, brown eyes looking dark in his navy room that was shadowed by the storm and his one yellow lamp. He clutched carefully to his towel and the clothes under his arm with the wine in his other hand, taking a long sip as he turned on his heel and returned to the bathroom.

She let her head hit the headboard of Josh’s bed. What the fuck was going on? She took another sip of her wine and then refilled the glass up high.

When Josh returned clothed, he sat on the foot of the bed and she silently refilled his glass when she saw it was already empty.

“So…what do you want to do?” She tries while folding her legs up under her chin.

Josh’s eyes flicker to the movement and get stuck on her legs for a moment before returning to her face.

“Movie?”

She shrugs, looking around his room for a television. “I don’t want to sit in your living room, your couch looks uncomfortable.”

“That’s where you’re sleeping if you can’t get home tonight,” Josh scoffs.

She arches an eyebrow and takes a sip of her wine. “I’ll sleep in Jake’s bed, he won’t mind.”

“No.” Josh stated flatly.

Her eyes turn back to him, cautiously. “Why not?”

“It’s weird.”

“No it’s not.” She sounds annoyed, placing her wine down and picking up her phone. “I’ll just text him and ask.”

The text sends and she smirks at Josh pointedly. Shortly after, a loud crash of thunder signals the power leaving for the rest of the storm and with it, the phone signals.

Josh smirks triumphantly over his glass when Y/N throws her phone dejectedly on the side table too, while he flicks on his battery powered lamp he had grabbed earlier as a precaution.

“Couch it is.”

She lays sideways along the top of Josh’s bed and hums, raising her hands above her head, allowing the bottom of the sweater to lift and expose her stomach. Feeling perfectly buzzed from the wine, she sighs, “I don’t know, this feels pretty comfy and I’m already settled. Maybe you should sleep on the couch since you love it so much.”

Josh watched her body extending across his bed and simultaneously wanted her there forever and to throw her out.

“Absolutely not. This is my house.”

“And I’m the guest,” she repeats. “C’mon lover, don’t be mean.”

“You’ve never seen mean,” Josh rolls his eyes and finishes his wine, laying it with hers on the table.

She laughs, outrageously loud. “You’re a lot of things, Josh. But I don’t think you’ve got a truly mean bone in your body or however that cliche goes. Evil sure, but that’s different.”

She hasn’t bothered to sit up and she’s enjoying the tone of voice Josh is slipping into and everything feels quite nice and warm. So warm. She shuts her eyes.

“No, no,” Josh hurries, moving himself so that he is closer to her. He pats her cheek lightly. “No falling asleep in my bed. Not allowed.”

“But I’m so comfy and cozy,” She croons, blinking her eyes back open. The smirk on her face gives her away.

“C’mon.” Josh takes her shoulders to push her upright. “Sit up.”

She laughs, but it dies out, recognizing the proximity of Josh’s face to hers. How his body is hovering over hers. How warm she is. “Fuck,” she whispers, staring at his lips, slightly stained from the wine.

“What?” Josh whispers back, realizing the same things as her. How soft the smallest bit of her skin is against his finger that’s on her shoulder, slipping along the collar of the sweater.

“Your lips are red,” she states.

Josh grins and lets his head fall between them with a laugh. “So are yours.”

He looks back at her and remembers the way she sounded in the bathroom. All the years he’d known her. All their fights. And how they weren’t really fighting anymore. How he teased her at Lover’s Inn and how good she’d been as his partner this last month and a half.

“What are we going to do with no power, August,” Josh whispered, already inching his face closer to hers.

She smiled and let her hands reach up to cup his face and neck. “Read the Bible by candlelight?” She whispered back as Josh’s nose nudged against hers.

He breathed a laugh across her lips and her breath caught in her throat when he finally attached his lips to hers. They kissed softly, just taking it in. Josh shifted them into a more comfortable position, one leg slotting between hers, while the other supported him so his torso wasn’t fully on her.

She whimpered immediately at the pressure and Josh smirked. He pressed harder, licking into her mouth.

She gasped when Josh began to kiss her neck and he spoke against her neck in between sucking against the skin. “I heard you.”

“W-what?” She was staring at the ceiling while she ran one hand against his shoulder and the other through his hair.

“I. Heard. You.” Josh repeated, allowing one of his hands to run under the sweater up towards her breast and she whimpered again. “Fuck,” he loved the way she sounded. “In the shower, lover.”

Her eyes shot wider, the haze of Josh’s lavishing touch disappeared with shame. “You did?”

Josh pulled back with a lazy grin, still playing with one of her nipples under her shirt and pecks her lips quickly.

“Yeah you fuckin’ told me to bring your clothes in because you’re a princess apparently and then you were in there getting off when I walked in.”

She felt embarrassed but remembered what was likely about to happen so it didn’t really matter. “Oh…I tried to deal with it quietly. I was just really turned on for some reason.”

Josh scoffed and retreated his hand from under her sweater. “C’mon,” he gestured to the sweater.

They were still acting like film partners through this interaction. Or at least how they acted. Talking casually while in the beginning of a sexual encounter.

She took it off and threw it to the ground while staring pointedly at Josh’s shirt. He followed suit before kissing her again. His chest looked so soft and warm, she wanted to be wrapped up in him.

“First, I almost had a heart attack at the sight of your thong and then I turned to leave and you’re in there playing with this thing.” He pauses his words, slipping his hand inside the boxers she was wearing, cupping her pussy.

She whines, extending her neck to kiss Josh’s. Feeling the need to touch more of him. He grins down at her again and kisses the space between her tits.

His hand rubbed ever so slightly over her mound without actually doing anything, but she felt the slightest friction and the pooling of her wetness. She grabbed at one of her tits.

“The curtain’s not opaque, August,” he continues and she groans at the nickname at a time like this. His middle finger slipped lower, hovering over her slit. He looked her in the eyes again. “I saw you writhing around your own little fingers. What’s it gonna look like when it’s mine your pretty pussy is wrapped around?”

She moaned at his words, throwing her head back against the pillows.

“Is it pretty? I bet it’s pretty.” Josh continued his special version of torture. She could feel his fingers but they weren’t doing anything she wanted them to. Every so often he planted a kiss on her torso. Of course he liked to tease by talking forever and ever.

“Take off the boxers and find out,” She tries not to sound impatient.

“Great idea!” Josh patronizes, slipping his hand out of the boxers completely and moving to take off the boxers.

She huffs.

“Don’t act spoiled,” Josh admonishes, returning his hand back to where it was while his other cups her face, forcing her to look him in the eyes again. He looks like an angel like this but so sure of himself. She’s amazed and completely at his will. “I know she already got to cum once under this roof.” He tsked, tapping his middle finger against her entrance. It was the lightest pat but she was so wet that Josh’s finger got a little of her slick nonetheless.

She moaned at the change in sensation, her hips dipping down in some instinctual attempt at getting him to slip inside.

“God, you are needy.” He removed his hands again and laughed when she huffed again. Both hands moved to her knees and pushed them to be bent and then apart, moving his body between them. His hands then went to her breasts, squeezing them and pinching tenderly at her nipples. Her hips bucked again and Josh kissed her again. “It’s gonna feel so good when I finally touch you where you want,” He offered, kissing her sweetly.

Pulling away he began to suck on her chest, continuing his monologue. “You were holding this perfect tit in one hand and rubbing your wet pussy with the other, right?”

She nodded when he looked to her for a response.

“I left when I saw you drop to your knees like some cock hungry whore…” Coming from someone else it would’ve sounded cruel, but from Josh’s lips it was the softest sweetest accusation in the world. His voice was honey and it only made her want him more. Maybe she was a cock hungry whore, for Josh.

Josh’s right hand returns to her pussy, cupping it like before and she’s sure she’s about to leak onto his palm.

“You’re leaking, princess,” Josh informs her, confirming her suspicion. “Do you like me talking mean to you? Why’d you drop to your knees in my bathroom, August? C’mon you can tell me.”

“I,” She starts. Josh chooses then to slip the tip of his finger inside of her.

“Yes?”

“I was about to c-cum and you have that, fucking, detachable showerhead…”

Josh thrust his finger fully inside her and she moaned, relieved but not much better. Now she felt herself quickly working up to another orgasm. He thrust his finger carefully, thinking over his response while trying to hold himself together now that he’d felt how warm and tight she was inside.

“Used my showerhead to get off in my shower. Touching these pretty tits, riding your own hand and now you’re laid out all perfect for me.” He added a finger and her hips began to move with his movements. “You are a little slut, aren’t you?”

She hums in agreement, one hand hanging onto Josh’s neck and another gripping her tit like her life depended on it.

“And you’re gonna cum again already? Fuck,” Josh sounded amazed. In awe of how sexy Y/N was, how willing and lovely she was, how she was perfect for him. “Go on.”

She came immediately, having held off for so long, trying to hold it for Josh despite how much he’d teased her.

After she rode it out, Josh removed his fingers and gave them a lick. Humming his satisfaction. She breathed heavily watching him, but wanting more. Seeing from the bulge in Josh’s sweatpants she knew he wanted more as well.

“Fuck me, Josh.” She sat up on her elbows beckoning him closer.

“Did you forget who’s in charge?” He laughed, but it was soft. They were still themselves.

She widened her legs and pouted, dropping her hand to her pussy, carefully circling her puffy clit.

“Need it, Josh.” She rocked her hips. “I think you need it too.” She hummed, looking pointedly at his straining cock.

Josh shook his head and crawled over her again, pushing her hand away from her clit. She took up the job of pushing down his sweatpants and boxers simultaneously.

“Next time, I wanna see you dropping to your knees like the cockslut we now know you are.” Josh breaths, losing track of his train of thought with the feel of her soft hand gripping the base of him gently.

“Next time could be later tonight…” She whispered back, connecting their lips again. “Or tomorrow.”

Josh groans, at her words and the feeling of her slipping the head of his cock through her slick. He resisted pressing in immediately, feeling her rubbing it back and forth from her entrance to her needy clit. He bit her lip and she moaned.

“I would’ve fucked you months ago if I knew that getting you wet was all it took to make you all sweet and nice.” He grunted.

His hips thrusting on their own accord caused his head to slip against her clit in a way that made her moan loudly. She tightened her grip on his cock and Josh’s hips moved back.

“I wouldn’t be rude to the girl who’s about to let you hit, lover.”

She nudged Josh’s head into her entrance and they sighed in tandem. Her hands went up to his shoulders from under his arms. Josh dropped his face into her neck, overwhelmed by the warmth and softness. They began moving at a steady clip. Her legs wrapped around Josh until he started thrusting harder and faster.

“Fuck,” she whined. “That feels so fucking good. Don’t stop.”

Josh had begun to sweat. He shifted one of her legs to balance one of his hands and then moved his other to the headboard and she moaned loudly adoring the stretch.

“‘M close,” He strained. His eyes were constantly shifting between her bouncing tits, his cock disappearing in her and her face and the expressions she was making. “You’re so wet.”

“Cum,” she breathed. Her fingers slipped down to her clit again, rubbing furiously.

Her walls tightened at the added stimulation and Josh was cumming. Hot and sticky inside her. He panted hard, collapsing on her with a wet kiss against her mouth. His cock had made even more of a mess of her, leaking out of her full, throbbing cunt.

Josh watched it. Entranced as he pulled out once more and twitched when Y/N moaned at the sensation, her eyes shut in pleasure.

“I’ll clean you up,” Josh nodded to himself before disappearing.

Less than 10 minutes later, the pair were cleaned up and wrapped up with water in Josh’s bed. Side by side.

They saw each other in class on Monday and Wednesday after their shoot and impromptu sleepover on Saturday that had run into Sunday, but they acted like nothing had happened. Or like it was completely normal. Which they both liked. They had been cordial upon waking up wrapped around each other on Sunday morning, but Y/N had made a quick exit, citing a myriad of reasons why she needed to go home now that the storm had passed. She even declined coffee.

It was Thursday, at Lover’s Inn, when the events of Saturday night became hard to ignore.

Josh didn’t show up first which she was grateful for. Jake sauntered in with his guitar case, his small but impressive pedal board and a few wrapped up cords over his shoulder. She smiled and they exchanged pleasantries as she shuffled around their table. Everything was ready, but she couldn’t stop herself from reorganizing things.

“Do you need a beer?” Jake asks after a tense 10 minutes of silence.

She laughs and flips around from the table, slumping against it. “Honestly, yeah.”

Jake lifts his mouth into a half-smile, nodding to the table. “You can have one of mine and I’ll steal one of my brothers.”

“How chivalrous,” She smiles, disarmed by Jake’s nature. She grabs two beers and the bottle opener from the table before crossing to him and handing over one beer to him, followed by the opener.

They click the necks together and take an appreciative sip.

“What’s got you flustered?” Jake asks.

“I don’t know,” She sighs, rubbing at her forehead, knowing exactly why.

Sam, Danny and Josh file through the side door while Y/N attempts to come up with a reason for her to be stressed. Jake watches her carefully, but her eyes immediately shoot to the sound of the door opening and their voices.

Josh scans the scene of Jake and Y/N on the two couches, sipping on beers, alone. His nose flares momentarily before setting down his piece of the drum kit and saunters to the couch, sitting beside Jake.

“Your turn,” Josh says, nodding to the door so that Jake will go help with the rest of their stuff.

Jake rolls his eyes and takes another swig of his beer before huffily standing up and walking outside. Josh eyes Y/N sitting silently across from him and takes a swif from his brother’s beer.

“I’m assuming he offered his share and then is planning to drink an extra of one of ours.”

She chuckles nervously, eyes shifting away from Josh and around the room. “You guys know each other well.”

“Brothers. Twins.” He shrugs, still watching her intently.

She discards her half-empty beer and stands, bee-lining for her bag. “I’ve got new stuff for you guys.”

Josh rolls his eyes, but feels a little bug of worry squirming in. The insecurity he had felt on Sunday had vanished with how normal they had been in class, but this made him feel like something was certainly off.

“Here,” She places the vest and medallion necklace she’d found for Josh beside his head on the back of the couch. “And here’s this for you, Danny.” She turned from Josh before he could even thank her, handing Danny a tank style shirt she thought he’d like. Sam received a flowy floral button down while Jake got a fringe leather jacket that she had been searching for all semester for him.

Jake beamed, his eyes shiny and his smile taking over his entire face. She smiled back at him, trying to fully feel the gratitude he was giving her. She watched as he tried it on and spread his arms in the mirror, admiring the movement.

“This is going to be so fuckin’ sick,” He laughed, slightly in disbelief, touching over the jacket constantly. “I can’t thank you enough, Y/N.”

She blushed a bit, feeling everyone’s eyes on her, especially Josh’s from his place on the couch. He was holding his vest in his lap, sullen that he had never thanked her so profusely for the things she found him.

“It’s my dream job–and if you guys ever get famous, I’ll make you real stage outfits. However you want.” Jake’s giddy energy was overpowering her nerves. It felt great.

The green room was a fun atmosphere for the rest of the hour leading up to their set. Josh pushed himself out of his pining and focused on the revelry. But before the band was about to go on, Josh hung back, leaving him alone with Y/N.

She saw him stall at the door, his hand catching the frame. His vest was tan suede tonight, with silver pieces swirling into pockets on the front and creating a pattern across his back. He turned around and she paused, once more at the table, beginning to clean up wrappers.

“I wanted to say thank you for all the vests and stuff you’ve found me this semester, August.”

She watched Josh cross the room to her. “It’s nothing. Like I said, dream job.”

Josh pressed closer and threaded his hand through her hair. His breath was warm against her skin. She finally met his eyes.

“I miss you.”

“You’ve seen me all week.”

Josh’s forehead drops against hers, his free hand coming to her waist. It’s hot and firm and she feels the breath leave her lungs. Her body presses closer to him.

“Not what I meant.”

“Josh…” She wants to kiss him so bad. Wants him to kiss her. Her hands are grasping at his forearms in a way she hopes isn’t too desparate. “You’ve got a show to play.”

His hand moves slowly from her waist across her stomach to the center of her jean skirt. His fingers fiddle with the button, slipping them below the waistband, feeling more fabric.

“It’s a shame.” His breathing was heavy. His nose kept nudging hers.

She licked her lips and swallowed.

“Really wish you weren’t wearing tights,” He murmurs before pressing a hot kiss to her lips.

Before she can really feel him against her, he’s pulling away and snapping the black lycra that he had wiggled his finger into against her skin. A sharp gasp sounds and he’s walking out the door to the stage, looking far too much like a rockstar than she’d like. After a few moments of attempting to collect herself, she leaves the trash to be dealt with later and follows Josh to see the start of the show.

This show was electric. Everyone was playing their best. Jake was rocking with his guitar so much that the fringe flew around, making the crowd of college-aged women the band had amassed go wild. Josh was strutting around the stage, raising his arms as he hit notes and dancing with Jake every so often.

Jake tried to convince the manager to let Sam and Danny into the front of house. ‘It’s not like they don’t have IDs that say they’re old enough,’ he reasoned conspiratorially. He was over the moon and he wanted everyone to celebrate since winter break was coming up and their show would be taking a rest for a while. Her manager relented, but Josh almost crushed his twin’s soul when he said he needed to go home to work on editing.

Sam and Danny’s exuberance at being able to drink at the bar overpowered Jake’s protestations to Josh, leaving Y/N and Josh alone in the green room once more. He smirked with great satisfaction as he shrugged the vest from his shoulders and began to pull his t-shirt back over his head.

“Where were we?” He saunters back over and she’s happy to see regular Josh instead of the rockstar Josh who had ambushed her earlier.

Yet, she remembered him. And she remembered his performance tonight. How low his pants were slung around his hips. A pair of tight black vinyl pants she had found him about a month ago. His happy trail had meandered down to disappear beneath the fabric she had chosen for him. Now, he was straining against those pants and she shut her eyes, coming to terms with what she was about to do.

“It’s your turn, Josh.” She meets him in the middle of the room, backing him up against the arm of the bigger leather couch. She caged him in for a moment, looking him up and down. Josh’s eyes were wide in surprise. “Sit on the couch.”

He is a bit confused, but doesn’t argue, shuffling to sit down as quickly as possible.

“Eager, huh?”

“Now who’s being mean?”

She grins and walks to stand in front of Josh, dropping to her knees with quiet ease and practice. Josh immediately throws his head back, sinking lower into the chair.

“Oh my god.”

“Didn’t want to leave you hanging,” She smiled. Running her hands over the tops of Josh’s vinyl clad thighs. “I could see it while you were on stage. At least,” She paused to chuckle. “More than usual.”

Josh sighed, eyes fluttering open to stare at her between his legs again. She was so beautiful even when she smiled at him so wickedly.

“Want your cock in my mouth, Josh?”

“Fuck, Y/N,” Josh couldn’t take the teasing of her hands and her words.

“Just say ‘please’.” She stared at Josh seriously. Her hands toying with the button and zipper of his pants now, brushing just over his hardening length.

“Please, please, fucking please.” He rushed out.

She laughed and shook her head. “God, fine. Relax.”

Her hands expertly unhooked the button and slid the zipper down with practiced hands of a costumer. This was far more explicit than any of the other times she had undressed someone. Josh’s cock was hot and heavy in her hand and her core ached at the memory of where it had been almost a week ago. She ran her tongue against it and Josh groaned.

She lavished his head with a few kisses and looked up at Josh, beginning to suck on the side of it. “So pretty,” She murmurs.

Josh’s hips bucked in response, his hand going to rest in her hair, but careful not to guide her. He wanted to see what she did. She gathered a pool of spit to let fall onto his thick cock before languidly running her hand over the length, hoping to tease him a little more. She hadn’t forgotten the treatment he gave her on Saturday. Josh’s hips bucked again and he groaned her name.

Taking his head fully in between her lips, she took pity on him. Beginning her descent, she attempted to get him all in her throat but had about a handful left when he hit the back of her throat. She hummed around him and he jerked in her throat, causing her to fall back. She massaged her lips around the place where his head met the shaft before trying again. One hand on his thigh and one beneath his shirt, she bobbed her head slowly, suctioning occasionally until Josh was hissing about being close again.

She pulled off him and smiled at him from her position. Her lips were wet with saliva and precum. Josh’s eyes were half closed in pleasure but he couldn’t believe the look on her face. Breathing heavy, flushed from taking him down her throat. Her hand moved along his length faster.

“Tell me when,” She murmured, eyes moving from Josh’s face to her movements around him.

Josh nodded, trying to stay still. Overwhelmed. “Now.”

Her lips reattached to his head, sucking a little harder, while her hand still worked near the base. Josh’s hips bucked in time with the spurts that hit the back of her throat and she clenched around nothing, wishing more than anything that she was brave enough to attempt penetrative sex in public.

She pulled off and swallowed, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth with a tired sigh. Josh’s satisfied smile watched her in awe, tucking himself away after a few moments of heavy panting.

“Jesus Christ,” Josh breathed, petting at her hair before bringing her to kiss his lips. “Thank you. Wow. Just… so talented.”

“Josh Kiszka not having the right words,” She smiled against his lips. She pulled away and ruffled his hair. “I must be good.”

Josh sputtered, jumping to his feet and following her to the side of the door where she was grabbing her coat and extra stuff.

“Do you need a ride home again?”

Josh scratched at the back of his neck. “Uh, I guess. Can’t really go out there and tell ‘em I need their keys when I was supposed to have left 20 minutes ago. Plus they’re probably expecting me to come pick them up eventually so I need my car for that.”

“Josh,” She stopped his rambling. Her hand pressed flat against his upper chest, bringing his eyes to hers. “Relax. My jaw’s too tired to give you another stress relieving head session.”

Josh shut up and nodded. She smiled, pleased with herself. They grabbed their stuff and headed for her Volvo after she locked the green room door.

“Driving you home like you’re my little bitch,” She stated half-way through the drive she now knew without directions.

“Shut up.” Josh sounded annoyed but really he was smiling, staring out at the passing streets.

When they pull up to his house, Josh pauses. “Do you wanna come in?”

“Can’t tonight. See you soon though.”

She kisses his lips tenderly, cupping his strong jaw in a way neither of them had ever expected.

Mid December and the semester was over. Their short film was a success. It was the last Thursday Greta Van Fleet would be performing at Lover’s Inn until the new year. Josh and Y/N hadn’t had time to talk about them with the rush of finals and getting the film in in time for screening. There had been stolen kisses during late final cut editing nights and in the empty hallways of the film building, but nothing else.

Josh had arrived with Y/N, helping her set up so that she could be done early and they could have alone time before the rest of the band started to arrive. They were so excited to be done with everything, so pleased with themselves, that they were hurriedly making out against the snack table, unable to keep their hands off of one another a moment longer.

So wrapped up in one another, exchanging words of teasing and searing lips against soft skin, they don’t hear Danny and Jake walking in.

With Y/N pressed against the table, Jake and Danny get an eyeful of her hands on Josh, one on his waist pulling him closer and the other grabbing at his right jean-clad ass cheek.

Danny whistling loudly and Jake clapping his hands together leisurely cause them to spring apart. Josh spins around, flushed and out of breath while Y/N adjusts the top of her shirt that Josh had pushed to the side for more access to her skin.

“About time,” Jake says with a happy smile, stalking to place down his guitar case.

Danny laughs and Sam walks in shortly behind them, silent for a moment, appraising the situation before understanding and exclaiming: “To the happy couple!”

Josh groans at his brothers’ smug looks before smiling. She laughs, hiding her head behind Josh’s shoulder in mild embarrassment. Everyone cheers and it feels silly that they ever detested being in the same room as one another.

During their final performance, Josh waxes eloquent about his wondrous time he’s spent on this very stage. He thanks everyone and then pauses, searching the audience for Y/N.

“Now this next one goes out to my lover,” He says as he winks. “You know who you are!”

The crowd goes wild and a softer than usual guitar riff comes in from Jake’s playing.

“August, honey / Tasted sweeter with you / Sticky fingers / From your own residue,” He sang.

Jake got to kick up the guitar. The three guys even sang the little backing ‘ooh’s into their mics that were rarely used.

“We don’t talk about it / We don’t have the time / We thought love was something / We weren’t meant to find.”

Josh’s voice is a perfect fit for the cover, she thinks it sounds even better than the original.

“But don’t you remember / August, honey, you were mine!”

It hurts her heart to realize why her name was ‘August’ in Josh’s phone and not for the asshole-ish reason he had originally told her. Sure, they’d met in August three years ago, that was still true, but she’d also mentioned this song to him. When they’d first been paired up freshman year, he had asked her what the song was that was paused on her phone when he handed it back after typing in his number. Always being scatterbrained, especially at 18, he must have written it over her name…And it was ‘August’.

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