#it’s not like all of this came out of nowhere

[importantpuppystarfish]

Repopulating the whole world with Wonyoung

Male reader x Jang Wonyoung

Plot : You are from a random country "X". World War 3 is ongoing. Genre : Survival, Romantic, Emotional. Includes: 69, rimjob, facesitting, wony pissing, breeding, lots of kissing.

I drag myself onto the rocky shore, my body aching from the endless swimming. My clothes are soaked, my breaths ragged, and my arms feel like they could fall off any second. But I made it.

The world is in ruins. World War III tore everything apart. Cities burned, people scattered, and survival became a desperate gamble. I don’t know how long I was in the water, moving from boat to boat, trying to stay afloat. But somehow, I reached this island near the Korean Peninsula.

I push myself up, coughing out of the salt water, and scan out my surroundings. The island is covered in dense trees, the sand untouched, the wind eerily silent. No signs of life.

Except for one.

A girl stands near the water’s edge, her long, damp hair flowing in the wind. She’s wearing a torn white dress, clinging to her body from the seawater. Even in this chaos, she looks unreallike -- gorgeous.

I blink. My brain struggles to process what I’m seeing.

It’s Jang Wonyoung!

The Wonyoung. The famous K-pop idol. The girl that once stood on dazzling stages, worshipped by millions. And now, she’s here, stranded just like me. Wonyoung also came to the same island through swimming to save herself from the war.

She notices me. Her eyes widen, and she steps back slightly, uncertain. I must look like a wreck, an exhausted or an average looking guy.

I raise my hands slightly, trying to show I’m not a threat. “Hey… I’m not here to hurt you.” My voice is hoarse.

She hesitates, then speaks, her voice soft yet sharp. “Are you alone?”

I nod. “Yeah… just me.”

A pause. The wind howls between us. Then she exhales and sits down on the sand. “Same.”

I look around again. No ships, no planes, no humans. Just us.

Two strangers. A famous lost idol and me.

Alone in the middle of nowhere. Wonyoung asks for my name~ "I'm Y/N!" Nice to meet u! We have a handshake.. Her hands feel soft.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pt1:

I take a cautious step closer. “How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know. A few hours, maybe. I was on a boat, trying to escape… then everything went wrong.” Wonyoung replies.

I nod. I get it. The war didn’t care who we were, celebrity or nobody, we all ended up fighting for survival.

I sat onto the sand beside her, keeping a respectful distance. My body still aches from the swim, but at least I’m alive. “We should find shelter,” I say, more to myself than her.

Wonyoung doesn’t answer right away. She’s staring at the ocean, her expression unreadable. Finally, she nods. “Yeah.”

We explore the island together. It’s small, covered in thick trees, with no sign of civilization. No food, no supplies. If we want to live, we’ll have to find a way ourselves.

We build a shelter from fallen branches near a rocky cliffside, something to protect us from the wind. It’s not much, but it’ll do for now.

I know Wonyoung is feeling hungry, I can hear the sounds from her stomach. She's embarrassed. I hunt for fruits around in the forest and give some off to her. Wonyoung smiles and thanks me for the first time.

As night arrives, we sleep inside the shelter with a distinct position from each other. I can't believe I'm sleeping nearby a famous K-pop idol!

Wonyoung must be a very clean and neat girl. As morning arrives, with no proper shelter, no soap, and no change of clothes, Wonyoung specifically start to feel disgusting. We both only got one outfit for ourselves and its also getting torn apart.

Wonyoung tugs at her damp, dirt-streaked dress, grimacing. “I can’t take this anymore. I feel gross.”

I look down at myself. My clothes are stiff with dried saltwater and sweat. “Yeah, me too.”

She crosses her arms, thinking. “We need to wash them.”

I nod, then realize the problem. “But… if we wash them, we’ll have nothing to wear.”

She sighs. “I know.”

We stand there in awkward silence, both aware of what that means.

“…Maybe we take turns?” I suggest hesitantly.

She gives me a sharp look. “You mean one of us stays naked while the other waits?”

I scratch my head. “I mean… yeah?”

She groans, burying her face in her hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

I shrug. “We don’t have a choice. It’s just us here.”

She peeks at me through her fingers. “Still!”

After a long pause, she exhales sharply. “Fine!" “This is so worse!” she mutters.

I chuckle. “At least we’ll be clean.”

She grumbles but doesn’t argue.

And so, in our strange little world, even washing clothes becomes a ridiculous challenge. But somehow, we manage—awkward, embarrassed, but surviving together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But suddenly, it seems Wonyoung has realized survival takes priority over everything else. Embarrassment, modesty—those things start to feel pointless.

To my surprise, Wonyoung just… pulls her dress over her head.

I freeze. My brain short-circuits as the gorgeous Wonyoung directly takes off her clothes near me, her medium sized breasts with pretty pink nipples, a luscious curvy figure that takes my breath away. Her natural scent is divine yet there's a hint of dirt clinging to her perfect skin. Now as soon as she also takes off her smelly and dirty underwear the same time, I see her pussy is hairy, maybe she doesn't shave it often. I keep looking in at her hungrily, finding every aspect of Wonyoung naked incredibly sexy.

She throws her dress and underwear onto a sea, standing now in nothing but her bare skin, completely unbothered. “You should do the same,” she says casually. “It’s just us, anyway.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I swallow hard, staring at the ground now. “Uh… are you sure about this?”

She shrugs. “Why not? Clothes are useless if they’re this filthy. We might as well just stay like this.”

I feel my face burning. “I mean… isn’t that a little—”

She raises an eyebrow. “What? Weird? Embarrassing?” She sighs. “At first, yeah. But think about it—we’re stuck here, just the two of us. Why should we care?”

I can’t argue with that logic. She’s right. There’s no one else. No society. No rules.

Still, I hesitate.

She smirks slightly. “You’re overthinking it.”

I exhale, then slowly pull off my shirt. Then my pants. The air feels strange against my skin, but at the same time… freeing.

Wonyoung smiles. “See? Not so bad.”

And just like that, we accept our fate. No more shame, no more awkwardness—just two survivors, stripped of everything, living in the most natural way possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As now I'm naked as well, Wonyoung starts to look at my rod standing at attention. I caught her biting her lips and smiling, which I found adorable. She playfully teases, 'I can't help it, it's so…funny!' I blush furiously and retort, 'Hey, don't laugh!'". I'm confused why the heck Wonyoung is laughing at my dick? Maybe she has never seen one before?

"You look funny naked, especially with that thing down standing out of nowhere so hard" Wonyoung teases.

I'm sure Wonyoung knows herself why my dick is hard at the moment. It only get this way when there's a pretty hot girl around. Also the fact, Wonyoung is naked herself too. Wonyoung's stomach makes a noise again, its time for food and we realize we should start hunting for survival.

Yesterday we survived on wild fruits & coconuts, and anything remotely edible that we can scavenge. But soon, we realize that if we want to stay strong, we need real food ~ fish.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wonyoung figures out that if we trap fish in small tidal pools near the shore, we can just grab them with our hands. It’s tricky, but with patience, we manage to catch a few.

Since we don’t have pots or pans, we cook the fish directly over a fire. We create a simple fire pit using dry wood and stones. We skewer the fish on sticks and roast them over the flames until they’re cooked through.

The first bite of was Incredible. We eat in silence, both of us savoring the moment. Wonyoung licks her lips, grinning. “I never thought I’d be this happy just eating a burnt fish.”

I laugh, nodding at her words.

As night falls, the temperature on the island drops, and the once-refreshing breeze turns into a chilling wind. Its getting cold. Yesterday we had our clothes but this morning, upon Wonyoung's idea, I also threw my clothes and we're both naked still.

With no clothes, no blankets, and only a small fire to keep us warm, the cold becomes a real problem.

At first, we try to endure it, huddling close to the fire, wrapping ourselves in large leaves, anything to stay warm. But nothing works.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wonyoung shivers beside me, hugging herself tightly. “This isn’t working,” she mutters, her teeth slightly chattering.

I sigh. I’m freezing too. Then, reluctantly, Wonyoung says, “There’s only one thing we can do.”

I looks at her, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

She hesitates. “Body heat. If we stay close, we’ll be warmer.”

I stare her for a second, then exhale, shaking my head. “I can’t believe this…” But then, after another shiver, I mutter, “Fine. But don’t get any ideas. I try to be positive, trying my best to be a gentleman ”

But Wonyoung seems to have something in her mind, she has been trying a little to seduce me even in this kind of survival condition ever since we both got naked.

We move closer, our bare skin pressing together. The warmth is immediate, awkward at first, but undeniable.

She rests her head against my shoulder, her body still tense. “I love this,” she whispers.

Slowly, her body relaxes against mine, and I feel my own muscles easing. The cold doesn’t bite as much anymore.

After a few moments of silence, she sighs. “You’re warm…”

I smirk. “So are you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wonyoung hugs me tigher, her chest pressing over mine. I can feel the size of her breasts, I have never grabbed them yet with my hands. I feel so good as well as her skin presses over mine more tightly..

Wonyoung and I can see the full moon together, it looks beautiful.

And just like that, we fall asleep, two survivors, pressed together against the cold, finding warmth in the only way we can.

The next morning, fever hits me suddenly. One moment, I’m fine, tired but fine. My body feels like it’s burning from the inside. My limbs are weak, my vision blurry, and every breath feels heavy.

I collapse near our shelter, barely able to keep my eyes open. Wonyoung rushes over, panic written all over her face.

“Hey! What’s wrong?” She kneels beside me, pressing a hand to my forehead. The moment she touches me, she gasps. “You’re burning up…”

I try to respond, but my throat is dry, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m… just tired…”

She bites her lip, looking around as if searching for a solution. “You’re Sick OH God!!"

Wonyoung has gotten emotional. She swallows hard, taking a shaky breath.

For the first time, I see her cry.

Even in this desperate situation, I hate seeing her like this. I slowly reach out, grabbing her trembling hand. “Hey… I’m not dead yet.” I try to smile, but even that takes too much effort.

She sniffles and squeezes my hand tightly. “You better not die,” she whispers. “I can’t be alone here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, Wonyoung stays by my side, cooling my forehead with wet leaves, giving me water, whispering words of reassurance even when she thinks I’m asleep.

And in my fevered haze, I realize something—she’s not just the famous girl I once admired from afar. She’s not just my survival partner. She might be someone special in my life.

The fever doesn’t break overnight, that day Wonyoung does all the job, cooking the fishes and finding survival resources. My body feels weak, my head heavy, and every movement sends waves of exhaustion through me. But Wonyoung never leaves my side.

She brings me water from the stream, carefully tilting a coconut shell to my lips. “Drink,” she murmurs. Her voice is soft but firm, her eyes filled with worry.

I manage a few sips before resting my head back down. “Thanks…” I whisper.

She sighs, brushing my damp hair back. “You’re burning up.”

That night, as the cold wind howls through our shelter, Wonyoung presses herself against me, wrapping her arms around my body. “This should help,” she whispers. “You need warmth.”

I’m too weak to argue, and honestly, her body heat is comforting. She rests her head against my chest, holding me close. She takes care of my body.

At some point, I groan, my muscles aching all over.

She notices immediately. “Does it hurt?”

I nod weakly.

Without hesitation, she shifts, her delicate hands moving to my shoulders. Slowly, gently, she starts massaging me, her fingers pressing into my tense muscles. She also gave me a handjob at the middle. I don’t even know if I should count it as lewd since we have been naked together and staying like this for 2 days already, but this is the first time she grabbed my dick with her hands.

“Relax,” she whispers. “You always do everything for us. Just let me take care of you.”

Her hands move down my arms, across my back, easing the knots of pain. Her touch is soft but firm, careful yet reassuring.

For the first time in days, I feel a little better.

I close my eyes, letting her warmth, her touch, her presence lull me into much-needed rest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wonyoung asks, “Do you think the war is over?”

I exhale, shaking my head. “I don’t know.”

She stares at the horizon. “What if… no one is left?”

I glance at her. “What do you mean?”

She hugs herself tighter. “Last time we saw the world… there were nukes being launched. Countries were falling apart. If the war is over, does that mean someone won? Or does it mean no one is left to fight anymore?”

A heavy silence falls between us. The thought is terrifying, but not impossible.

I swallow. “Even if there are survivors, do you think anyone would look for us? We’re on some random, uncharted island. We don’t even know if this place is on any map.”

Wonyoung’s expression darkens. “We could be doomed.”

I don’t want to believe that. But deep down, I know she might be right.

She rests her head on my shoulder. “It’s just us now,” she whispers.

I wrap an arm around her, pulling her close. “Then we survive. No matter what.”

“But if we are the only ones left…” Wonyoung hesitates. “Should we… you know… repopulate?”

The word hangs in the air, heavier than anything we’ve ever spoken before.

I swallow hard. “You’re asking if we should have kids?”

She nods slowly. “It’s what humans do, right? Continue the species.”

The idea makes sense, logically. But something about it feels too real.

I exhale. “That’s a big decision.”

She glances at me, her cheeks slightly flushed. “I know. But if the world is gone… doesn’t that mean we’re responsible for rebuilding it?”

I run a hand through my hair, trying to process. “It’s not just about responsibility. We’d be bringing a child into a world with no hospitals, no medicine, no help. It’d be dangerous.”

She bites her lip, thinking. “Yeah… but if we don’t, then when we die, that’s it. The end of humanity.”

Silence. The fire crackles between us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pt2:

Wonyoung finally sighs, shaking her head. “Maybe I’m overthinking.”

After some while, Wonyoung asks, "Do you want some special comfort?"

Without understanding what special comfort she meant, I nodded yes.

Wonyoung winks and positioned her face between my legs. Her hands reach up to gently caress my thighs, sending shivers through my body. Leaning in slowly, I suddenly feel her pink tongue extends and swirls around the tip of my dick. A soft gasp escapes her as she tastes me, her eyes never leaving mine. She takes the head into her warm, inviting mouth.

I feel my full length inside her mouth. I finally realized Wonyoung is giving me a blowjob already. Wonyoung pulls back a bit. She grins, still stroking me gently. "Mmm…you like that y/n?" She teases before taking me deep again, bobbing her head with purpose now.

"Wonyoung, are you serious right now? You're a famous idol… I can't believe ur doing this!?!" I say.

Wonyoung replies, "Well, I don't think there's anyone left in the world. We should start reproducing already!." She continues taking my length more inside her mouth.

I realize Wonyoung must be feeling emotional, and that I'm the only person in her life now. It doesn't matter if I'm attractive or not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wonyoung is absolutely magnificent as she works to please me with her lips and tongue. Her tongue dances against the sensitive under side of my dick each time I hit the back of her mouth. She gazes up at me with desire, her cheeks hollowing as she takes me deeper still. Every flick, suck and lick from Wonyoung feels heavenly, it's clear she was made for this. I can't hold back my cries of pleasure - "Oh wow, Wonyoung please stop, you are amazing at this!"

Wiping a strand of saliva from her chin after she finishes sucking my rod, Wonyoung sits up and spreads her legs wide. Her thick bush of dark hair beckons me forward. "Alright, enough pleasing you. I want the same feeling as well. Mind eating my hairy pussy now?" she commands.

"Are you serious? But I'm sick!" I reply to her command.

"Oh right", Wonyoung pauses, a look of determination crossing her face. "Can't stand or return the favor hmm?" She grins slyly. "No problem, I can adapt." She positions herself above me, her beautiful eyes twinkling. "Here, I'll just…sit right down."

And with that, Wonyoung lowers herself, her vertical lips parting as she envelops my face in her warmth. I feel her weight settle on my face as she slowly sits on my face, her pussy hair tickling my nose.

I get flashbacks of watching Wonyoung's performance through my screen at home last year before the war started. It's exactly that same ass! Now that ass is about to be buried all over my face.

As Wonyoung lowers herself onto me fully, I am enveloped by her feminine heat and scent from her ass… She is totally face sitting on me.. Wonyoung is now riding my face!

Eager to please, I decide to really explore Wonyoung's shithole. Gently I spread her ass cheeks further apart, gazing at her tight little bud. I push my tongue forward deep, pushing more deep into Wonyoung's most intimate place. Inside her anus, my tongue meets warm, velvety smooth walls that grip me gently. A faint musky scent fills my senses as I wiggle and stroke within her sensitive rim.

My tongue inside her asshole is absorbing up every sticky morsel. The taste is intense, earthy and undeniably naughty. I delve deeper, driven by an urge to clean every inch of her filthy depths.

Her inner walls clench and grip my probing tongue as I feel the wet, dirty texture inside her tight little shithole. It's a decadent mess inside here. Oh fuck, Am I really eating her wet messy holes as she commands?

Shee gasps but then urges me, "Deeper...stick your tongue in!".

I oblige, slowly working my tongue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her ass shakes over my head with a playful excitement from taking in charge, she still asks teasingly, "Is OK?"

I nod, surrendering to pleasure her. My tongue extends, lapping up her slick nectar. She tastes divine. I feel her move, grinding against my mouth harder. She shifts a bit and my tongue finds her hairy wet pussy, making her bite her lip and smile wider.

I eagerly lap up every drop of her juices, my tongue tracing her folds and circling her engorged clit. I suck the bud into my mouth, flicking it while my hands press against her thighs for balance. Wonyoung gasps, riding my face harder. I insert my tongue as deep as it will go inside her within her wetness.

Wonyoung grinds down harder, inviting me to continue. I oblige, gently probing at her holes with more intention now. The salty-sweet taste of mixing her essence on my tongue drives me wild. Wonyoung cries out, clearly enjoying using me completely.

"Mmm…you're so good with that tongue, I just can't resist returning the favor!" Wonyoung cries. She leans down, taking my throbbing length back into her mouth. Now our bodies form a delightfully lewd 69 position - me eating her treasure while she continues to suck me off.

Her hips move in a sensual rhythm, grinding her wetness all over my face as I feel the base of my shaft hit her throat each time she takes me deep.

Our 69 is smooth and rhythmic now, both of us falling into it as the ecstasy builds. My tongue works her clit in firm circles while I thrust my tongue as deep as possible into her tight back doorway. Wonyoung's mouth moves expertly along my shaft, her lips sealed tight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just when I think it can't get more intense, I feel a warm fluid against my chin and mouth. "Oh my god, I'm sorry!" Wonyoung cries out. But I don't pull back - I simply extend my tongue, catching her pee with every skillful lick. She trembles above me as she finishes, spent. A mixture of her fluids coats my face but I don't mind one bit, still savoring her completely.

Against my will, I'm forced to drink down her warm, tangy urine. It's strong and acrid on my tongue but I obediently swallow, NOT wanting to displease Wonyoung. She seems shy now, her cheeks flushed crimson.

"Here, let me make it better." She whispers. Wonyoung begins gently licking my face with her soft, pink tongue. She methodically cleans every inch, the bitter taste slowly fading. When she reaches my lips she takes me into her mouth again, our tongues meeting. She swallows some of her own urine back from my mouth as we have a mouthful french kiss. Her eyes closed, slipping her tongue into my mouth. There it mixes with my saliva too, a lewd, taboo French kiss. When she finally breaks the kiss, her eyes search mine - a mix of apology and invitation.

She again engages me in a deep and soulful kiss. Wonyoung breaks the kiss, her eyes glinting with newfound desire. She stands up now. "I hope you can forgive me," she purrs before sitting over my shaft. Wonyoung positions herself now ready to ride my dicm. "Now fuck me…fuck me hard, its time for reproduction already! Forget the humanity outside! Theres no one left!" she screams.

She cries out as I claim her. I watch my rod disappearing between her thighs, feeling her walls tighten around me. "Yes, that's it!, Oh my god I can't believe I'm having my first time!" Wonyoung moans as she rides my dick hard. Our bodies connect with a primal rhythm as I punish her core. I know I won't last long after that intense buildup. "Don't stop!" she gasps, pulling me deeper. I'm determined to satisfy us both.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tears spring to her eyes but she keeps crying out "Yes yes yes!".. Wonyoung is literally screaming and riding me at the middle of the island. We don’t know what's happening outside in the real world. But here, it seems we both are actually enjoying. Birds and insects are watching us fuck in the silent island. The island is full of her screams and cries in pleasure.

Wonyoung starts bouncing on my rod harder. Each deep thrust draws out prolonged, wailing cries from Wonyoung's lips: "AHH! AHHH PLEASE!". Wonyoung leans down upon my mouth for a kiss now.

She breathes, "You're taking me so well", "but I'm not nearly done with you yet until u cum inside me."

Wonyoung's forcefully kisses me deep and moans. "Ahh, please, I can't.. Cum already.!" she cries desperately, a mix of fear and excitement in her voice.

Wonyoung screams again, her voice rising in pitch as I cum inside her "OOOOHHH!"

Wonyoung feels the sticky white cum fill inside her. Its a big load. She still continues riding, but now Wonyoung feels something tear inside her… "You…you tore me," she whispers, eyes wide.

I push her away from my dick, I see a mess down in her pussy. Its full of my sperm and cum, her insides must have broken and torn apart since its her first time. "It hurts but we succeeded. I'm probably finally pregnant!." Wonyoung cries.

I get emotional too. I hug Wonyoung, and as she hugs me back, we hold each other with love, and I can feel her warmth and heartbeat. Inside Wonyoung is a complex mix of emotions and physical sensations.

I can't believe it, did I actually breed Wonyoung, the most popular K-pop girl? This feels so real, it’s definitely not a dream! Yes, thats right! If I and Wonyoung are really the only humans left, the next world generation will be descendants of us!

[pureomi]

˚୨୧⋆｡🍓˚ she see money all around me, i look like i'm the man

includes: itoshi sae x fem! reader. 0.8k wc. fluff.

a/n: provider sae, we all cheered !! inspired by that one tiktok trend lol

not much grabs itoshi sae's attention, so you have to get creative.

"sae, i can't help pay rent this month." even though he doesn't glance away from the computer screen, the twitch on his face is obvious. the furrowed brows, his fingers coming to a halt on the keyboard, the imaginary question mark brewing over his head—all of it subtle but still priceless.

to be fair, he doesn't even recall being this confused when his parents agreed to send him abroad at the ripe age of thirteen—that too, all by himself!

for someone as strict as itoshi sae, he should receive an award for how quickly he paused his work to simply process whatever the fuck just came out of your mouth. "you can't, what?" he finally says, still keeping his gaze focused on the screen.

this is harder than you thought. not the pranking part; the holding in your laughter part. you somehow manage to keep it in for the sake of the bit.

"yeah, i just don't have the money to help you pay our rent this month," you continue, further emphasizing your dilemma (knowing damn well it doesn’t exist) awaiting his reaction.

but of course, your prank backfires spectacularly. the dramatic reaction you were hoping for? nowhere to be found. instead, he just crosses his arms and finally turns his chair to stare at you like you're the ridiculous one in this scenario. sae leans back in his chair, letting linger another one of those infuriatingly calm looks that make you want to simultaneously throw something at him and admire how annoyingly composed he is. "i know?" he claimed, neutrally, with a quirk of his brow like...duhh?

he continued, not even trying to be offensive, just merely stating the facts he has gathered living with you over the years. "when have you ever paid rent?"

…why would you?

he’s suddenly wondering if, overnight, you forgot you’re itoshi sae’s girl. hell, he doesn’t even let you pay for something as little as webtoon coins—hence why he made sure his card info was saved on your phone. rent was too far of a stretch to claim, even as a joke, and you know this too.

with how adamant sae is, the world could collapse before he let you contribute a single penny.

but damn, did that make it make it hard for you to continue this act.

you open your mouth to say something, anything, to salvage the prank, but your brain is running on a blank slate. "i mean," you clear your throat, trying to recover. "it’s about the…principle? you know, of financial responsibility and, um—" sae tilts his head, looking wholly unimpressed. "do you even know how much rent is?" your mouth opens. closes. he waits. you scramble. "well, yeah, of course, i—" "how much?" he asks, deadpan. your lips part, but the number? nowhere to be found. you had not, at any point in your life, thought to ask. sae quirks a brow, clearly entertained by your pathetic attempt to keep going. he rests his chin in his palm, watching you struggle with the kind of calm that makes it painfully obvious he’s enjoying this. "you were saying?" he prompts, his voice laced with amusement. you huff, cheeks growing warm. "forget it. you ruined it." but before you can even sulk properly, sae reaches forward and hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you in with zero effort. a yelp escapes you as he shifts you into his lap, securing you there with both arms now locked around you. your heart does this stupid little thing where it stumbles over itself because you can feel the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, and—oh god—the way his lips are ridiculously close to your ear. "did i? or did you just get caught?" he murmurs, voice low and entirely too smug. "you—!" your hands instinctively grab onto his shoulders, trying to put some space between you two, but he doesn't let you. if anything, he picks you up to place you fully against his chest. "go on, finish your little act," he challenges, lips curling into a smirk. you glare at him, ignoring the rapid pounding of your heart. "i hate you." "yeah?" his voice is a quiet hum, teasing, daring you to keep going. "i guess that’s what i get for absolutely spoiling the shit out of my girlfriend." you pout, trying to look annoyed, but your resistance fades as you sink into his arms.

instead of staying smug, sae softens his grip just a little, his tone becoming more serious. "i take care of what’s mine, so don’t bother pulling tricks on me before you empty my bank account."

"do you understand?" he continues, his voice low and steady as he presses a gentle kiss to your temple. the softness of the gesture contrasts with the firmness of his words, leaving you to wonder how he always manages to make you this flustered every time. all you can do is just nod, giving in to the fact that your boyfriend is a rich snob who always gets his way—one you’re completely obsessed with, no less. seriously, what are you gonna do with him? 🤍

[wonderjanga]

Ah Yes. Magic.

A lot of the JL forget that Marvel has magic, so when he uses it, most of the time they’re surprised. It doesn’t make it better that he normally uses it ridiculously (and somewhat terrifyingly).

Villain: “Muahahaha! You’ll never stop me, Cheese!”

Marvel: “Abracadabra!” *turns him into a chicken*

Villain: *clucks in confusion*

Marvel: “Looks like I’ve got dinner! Junior and Mary will love this!”

Tourist: “What?! Captain, you can’t eat that man?!”

or

Two-Face: “I didn’t expect to run into you of all people, Captain Marvel. What’re you doing in Gotham-”

Marvel: “Hocus Pocus!”

Two-Face and Harvey: *split into both Two-Face and Harvey*

*silence*

Two-Face and Harvey: *staring at each other in surprise*

Marvel: “Why’d you guys stop talking?”

Harvey: *frantically feeling his own face to see if one side is still burnt*

The two both went through a small mental breakdown before Batman came out of nowhere, beat them both up and took them to Arkham.

or

Civilians: *falling after a villain pushed them all off* “AHHHHH-”

Marvel: “Alakazam!” *turns the ground underneath them into rubber, so they all bounce*

Civilians: “Thank you, Captain Marvel!”

By the way, this pisses off a lot of magic users, but not for the reason you’d think.

Zatanna: “He’s not even saying proper incantations!

Random Hero: Those aren’t magical?

Zatanna: “Wha- NO! Abracadabra is not a magical word. Neither is hocus-pocus or Alakazam!”

Bringing up this topic can cause many different magic users to go on rants about this specific thing.

[reignpage]

Physics Tutor!Nanami

Conservation of momentum: if it's just us we can remain at a constant

Content: Friday night party, we're nearing the end y'all, mixed content of angst and fluff, a little sexual action but only if you squint Word Count: 3k Guide

“Nanami, seriously, you’re a grown man,” you mutter, a little annoyed. 

This isn’t how you expected to spend to your Friday night, wrangling a six-foot-tall man into his home but your ex-physics tutor came to a frat party and you had actually drank with him. Now you’re facing the consequences. 

Earlier in the night, the sight of Nanami in his cute blue sweater, sitting awkwardly as he eyed the couple making out next to him with disgust, was enough to warrant a heart attack. You had offered to drink with him in the garden, to take care of him so he could let loose. For an hour or two, you drank a couple shots, relishing the cool breeze which kept your head screwed tight as you sat beside him.

Gojo had passed by, wriggling his eyebrows at you and making lewd movements with his hands. That hadn’t gone by unnoticed by Nanami, who grew quiet. You thought maybe he was tired, maybe he wanted to go home, and when you suggested you part ways, he gripped your wrist. 

“No, don’t go with him,” he slurred. 

You didn’t have plans to go with your friend, you were just going to turn in for the night too, but as you looked at the man you’ve been madly in love with for months and saw his ruffled hair, slightly askew glasses, fogging up from the heat his face was producing, and the flush brightening his cheeks, you realised that there was nowhere else you’d rather be. 

So, you stayed, sitting on the garden sofa with him. There were a couple other people loitering around, but none really paid any attention, everyone too immersed in their own conversations and lives to notice the two of you in the corner, thighs pressed together and shoulder brushing once in a while. 

His heat was permeating, tickling your side, and you couldn't help yourself, you leaned in close, the alcohol in your system made it so effortless to just let his gravitation pull bring you closer. If he noticed, he didn't say a thing.

You made small talk, discussing lectures and assignments. It was easy to talk to Nanami; other people were always so eager to prove themselves academically superior, never really listening to what you had to say, but rather looking for weak points to attack. It was never a conversation and instead a battlefield. And when you complained to your friends, they never seemed to understand.

With him, however, he listened more than he talked. Always. He hummed and nodded, mulling and considering your words carefully like what you had to say was just as important as anything an esteemed lecturer was teaching. With him, you felt like equals. Which was insane because he was Nanami Kento, and you were just the girl he had to tutor.

"I hate that bald Professor!" You groaned. "He's so boring."

He chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "He is rather monotonous, I must admit. You aren't the first student to complain and likely will not be the last."

"Yeah, I bet. But I honestly just don't think he should be a lecturer. I'd probably be a better one than him."

Meeting your gaze, you see the crinkle in the corners of his eyes, the way they soften as they roam your face, stopping by your smile. His fingers twitch on the empty shot glass, skimming the rim just a little before he affirms, "I have no doubts you would be; I can't imagine anyone finding you boring."

Passing each other shot glasses, you'd sip and chat. Nothing about the elephant in the room, not about your confessions, about the odd tension permeating the relationship, certainly not about why he showed up to the party, or why he had become flirtatious. Perhaps it was cowardice that held you both back. Maybe it was the enjoyment of simply existing beside each other, not as classmates, not as tutor and student, and not as two people whose feelings have gotten all tied up.

But as just Nanami and y/n.

Eventually, you both ceased your chattering. Settling to watch the other partygoers or the stars twinkling. Once in a while, he'd point to a star and tell you about its story, and you'd sit entranced by his voice --it's so steady, so smooth and clear, you could listen to it for hours. And when he talked to you of astronomy and gravity and quantum mechanics and the probability of time travel, you thought he should be a lecturer. You'd attend every class, every seminar, and never complain.

"How do you know so much about stars? We don't get taught about constellations."

He lifted one shoulder. "I work at the Eden Observatory part-time."

It was so quintessentially Nanami you didn't question it even though you were bursting to ask. He would have given you all the answers you sought, you're sure by the way he gazes at you expectantly.

Silence passed by, comfortable and soothing. You had no idea what time it was, didn’t care enough to reach forward to get your phone from the table, and neither did Nanami. You thought maybe he was nodding off but when you peered up at him, he was looking down. 

At your hand. 

“C-can I hold it?” 

His voice was gravelly, a hesitation that you’d never heard from him. The way he was gazing down at your hand, limp on your lap, like it was precious, like it was made of glass, and he could be beheaded for daring to even look, made your stomach feel weird. It was the very feeling you had been trying to bury for weeks. 

It was dangerous. You’d been working so hard to walk away and he was erasing the line, stretching out his arms to invite you back over. Unwise was what letting him do as he pleased would be, and yet, you found yourself nodding. And when his own hands, warm and large, wrapped around one of yours, you couldn’t fight back the shiver that ran through you. 

He was holding you so softly, in a way no one ever has, and you could only gulp. It was as if you had entered enemy territory, foreign and riddled with land mines that could go off and blow everything up if you so as much as made the wrong step. When his thumb grazed your knuckles, your heart skipped a beat. 

“Nanami,” you began but his hand squeezed yours and you shut up.

Your ex-physics tutor was still staring at your hand, marvelling at the soft skin, his glasses slide down his nose just a little bit, and you had to push it up with your free hand. That caught his attention, as if remembering there was a person attached to the hand he was holding so carefully. 

Clearing his throat, he shook his head, clearly trying to get his bearings. “Y/n, please rethink your decision to drop out.”

“I can’t.” You pulled your hand out of his like it burned. And then you looked away, crossing your arms so you wouldn’t be tempted. “This is for the best.”

“No. You were doing so well, even Professor Yaga had said so.”

With a sigh, you turned back to him, finding his blush endearing. The longer you stared the more it threatened your defences. You couldn’t let him talk you out of it, your sister you could fight off, even Gojo, but not Nanami. Not when every word that came out of his mouth sounded like the Gospel, like undeniable, irrefutable facts. 

Standing, you brushed invisible dust off your skirt and looked anywhere but at him. Unsteady, you asserted, “Nanami, I’ll take you back.”

He shook his head, strands of his hair falling over his forehead, obscuring his vision. You brushed them off, so lush under your palm, and he looked up at you like you were an angel -- mouth slightly parted, he blew air in the space between you, eyes slightly glossy as he watched you. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know?” He whispered, and then added, his brows furrowing, softening his gaze even further, “It hurts to look at you.”

You staggered back, arms falling to your sides as you gaped at him. You didn’t understand what that meant, what he was trying to say, nor why your heart was clenching so painfully, like someone had reached in and squeezed. 

“Maybe you can get your roommate to take you,” you whispered breathlessly.

Nanami shook his head once more, standing up too. His trousers were all crinkled and when he got to his feet he swayed slightly. You rushed over to his side, letting him lean against you. He was heavy, even as he carried most of his weight, and he smelled amazing. Clean, fresh and sweet. It reminded you of a bakery, just after closing, with the scent of butter and vanilla lingering in the air. 

“No, Haibara’s with his sister.” 

You both began walking, ignoring the staring and whistling people were throwing at you as they noticed both of your existence then. Some girls pointed to Nanami, no doubt recognising him from the List. They whispered amongst themselves, blushing and roving his body. You urged him to walk faster.

“Hey, hey, where are you two lovebirds going?” An irritating voice shouted. “You know my rules about fucking in the house. You have to pay a fee.”

Rolling your eyes, you informed him, “I’m taking Nanami home, he’s a little out of it.”

Gojo scanned your ex-tutor’s face, really looking at him and realising you were right. Suddenly, his grin dropped, and he was nodding to the front door. “Alright, I’ll drive. You seem out of it too.”

And just before you all left through the front door, he yelled to his deputy, “Don’t let the place burn down, it's a pain to deal with.”

The car ride to Nanami’s place passed in another relative silence, both of you in the back as you strapped him in, and your friend hummed to the songs on the radio, drumming his fingers. As obnoxious as Gojo could be, there were these rare moments of maturity and wisdom that people didn't see. But you did. You and Suguru, and these were the very moments that reminded you, no matter what, you would always find a home with him.

Parked, you unbuckled your seatbelt, reaching over the slightly light-headed man and unbuckled him too. His hand brushed your hair, gently, always so gentle. You refused to look at him.

“Let me know if you need a ride back,” Gojo threw at you, going on his phone as you fought to get your ex-tutor out, ignoring the glares you were directing towards him. His helpfulness had reached its max, clearly.

“No, she’s staying with me,” Nanami croaked. He slammed the door a little harder than necessary and you winced. Pointing a finger at Gojo through the rolled down window, he slurred, “You can go.”

Not taking any offence whatsoever, the frat president grinned and winked at you. “Alright, have fun, babes. Wrap it before you tap it. Or not. I'm pretty ready to be a fun uncle.”

And then he was driving off, leaving you crumpling under the weight of your responsibility with your jaw on the floor. That prick. Oh, you were so going to make him pay. 

By some miracle, you made it up to his floor with Nanami's jumbled directions, and now here you are, muttering irritated complaints about how clumsy this grown man is despite his age and wisdom.

“Seriously? Nanami, I told you to get it before we reach your door!”

You’re watching Nanami dig through his pockets for his keys, pink tinting the tip of his ears, either with embarrassment or with the warmth of the alcohol. He’s fumbling, muttering curses under his breath as he struggles, clumsy fingers catching on each other. You groan and swat his hands away, trying to get a feel for his keys through his trousers instead. 

This is not your first time dealing with drunk men. But it is your first time with a man as adorable as he is, unfortunately.

“Are you mad at me?”

Glancing up, you look at him, exasperated and unprepared for the pout on his face. His glasses are slanted again, and you have no free hands to push them back up — one hand is already holding him up and the other is buried in his pocket searching for his keys and trying to get past the lip balm in there. 

"No, Nanami. I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed." You hate that you sound just like your mother, but someone has to be the responsible one. You just never thought it'd ever be you.

He winces. “Please, be careful.”

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

Nanami flushes harder, the tips of his ears matching and he avoids eye contact, stilling your wrist with a firm hand. “No, you didn’t. It’s just…”

You follow his gaze, both of you looking down and seeing something that shouldn’t be happening. You blink, cartoon character style. This is so very bad. 

Taking a deep breath, you pull the keys out and mutter weakly, “Found it.”

Once you’re inside, you pull Nanami with you, eyeing his place and appreciating the cleanliness; your place is not nearly as tidy as his. But you do see a messy arrangement of papers on his table. You can imagine a busy Nanami, sitting on the sofa, going over the papers and reading out loud under his breath. You smile.

“Alright, big guy. Where’s your room?”

“Buy me dinner first,” he chuckles to himself. He slumps down on the sofa, the leather creaking under his weight and he shrugs off his sweater, the shirt underneath riding up to reveal his abs. You look away. 

Oh, so the man has jokes. 

You’re fighting the urge to walk away and with a shaky breath, full of frustration, you very calmly say, “Nanami, it’s late, sweetheart. You’re going to need to go to bed, okay?”

Then he’s smiling up at you, a gummy smile that’s so dopey you can’t help but smile with him. 

“I like that.” He tilts his head at you. “I like when you call me sweetheart. Do it again.”

Counting to ten, you try again, “Okay, Nanami. I’ll call you sweetheart when you get in bed. It’s a reward.”

He mouths it back, tasting the word and that seems to resonate with him. Raising a hand out, he’s urging you to help him up and so you step forward, ready to bear his weight again, but then you’re being yanked down, and the world turns upside down. 

Nanami’s pinned you to the sofa, leaning over you with a fierce look in his eyes. Gone is the nerdy lightweight, and in his place is the man you’ve caught glimpses of. The one that furrows his brown in a stern scolding, that scribbles frantically on his papers and argues with the professors. Suddenly, he no longer looks his age and instead, appears not as a clumsy college student, but rather as a man. 

The kind of man that could command the attention of an entire room. 

“You did this to me,” he gestures to his hard on, the very same one you’ve been avoiding staring too long at. “Take responsibility, won’t you, darling?”

You choke on your own saliva. What the fuck?

Shaking your head, you remind yourself, he’s drunk, you’re no longer his student, and you’ve been a pain in his ass the entire time. Don’t take anything he says whilst under the influence to heart. It’s just chemicals in his brain. Just a biological urge. It means nothing. 

“Nanami, you’re drunk, let’s drink some water, okay?”

“Four shots is barely anything. I might be a lightweight, but I’m tipsy at most,” he scoffs. Leaning down, he grazes your cheek with his nose, inhaling deep with a groan. “You always smell so good.”

He might claim to be sober enough, but you’re not convinced. Sure, you can’t deny that you want him, but you don’t want him like this; you don’t want to be wanted because the alcohol has clouded his judgment. You want to be seen, as you are and not just another warm body to pass the time. 

Slowly, gently and with as much patience as you can muster, you nudge his head from your neck, and say, “You need to let me go, Nanami.”

“No.”

“Nanami.”

“I don’t want you to leave me.” That gravelly voice is back, the one weighed down by some inner turmoil you aren’t privy to, and you can only bite your lip when he presses a tender kiss at the crook of your neck. “I want you any way you’ll let me.”

You’re tearing up. It might be because he’s whispering it right by your ear or because his words sound so sincere, but you feel your bottom lip quiver. This isn’t how the night was supposed to go; you wanted to let loose and forget everything by partying life away, but now you’re practically cuddling with your physics tutor. Ex physics tutor.

Despite being a little out of it and shaking with some unknown emotion, he isn’t suffocating you with his weight. He’s holding himself up in a plank, inhaling your scent and fighting off your weak pushes. 

“Please, Nanami. Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay?”

“You promise?” He lifts his head, lashes fluttering as he searches your features for any hint of deception. “You’re not going to avoid me?”

You shake your head, and he sighs, smiling. 

“Good, because I really don’t like it when you do that.”

And then he’s pushing off. A cool breeze brushes past you and you’re shivering from the sudden loss of warmth. Nanami disappears into a room you’re assuming is his and you go to the kitchen to get a glass of water. When you enter his room, he’s only in his boxers, climbing into bed. 

He lifts the cover up and pats the empty space beside him, grumbling, “Come on, I’m cold.”

You sigh, ripping the cover from his hands and tuck him in. “No, Nanami. I’m not sleeping with you. I’m going now so I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Almost breaking out into laughter at the scowl that graces his face, you have to distract yourself by pulling his glasses off and folding them onto his bedside table. Like this, he looks so youthful. No longer frowning over data variables or anomalistic lab results, he’s just lying peacefully. 

"You aren't better off taking a different course. You work well under my tutelage. Grant me the opportunity to change your mind about everything. Let me show you I didn't mean the things I said," he pleads, eyes flutterings shut.

Hesitant, you say, "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Nanami."

"Just one chance, y/n. Don't cross this off simply because we reached a bump. You trusted my guidance before, trust me now."

You don't know what exactly he's referring to and you're too scared to ask. All you can do is watch sincerity, a raw kind of pleading, swirl in his vibrant eyes. He has you in his palms and he doesn't even realise.

"Okay."

He’s fast asleep when you leave. 

You don’t bother Gojo for a ride back to your home, you texted him your sister's picking you up. She might be asleep by now but you'll wake her up anyways, so you can tell her about everything that's happened and ask for her two cents, because you think Nanami practically confessed his feelings for you. But that doesn’t make sense with all that’s unfolded, right?

How could he possibly like a girl like you?

You’re loud, boisterous, air-headed, and not the kind of girl one takes home to their mother. He deserves a girl that’s as smart, as put together, and mature and wise as he is. Deserves one that hasn’t been tainted by bad decision and nightmares.

Sighing again — you’ve been doing a lot of that lately — you walk home, in the dark, fighting the urge to look back. And as the night’s chill prick your skin, you wonder how Nanami will feel in the morning. 

Embarrassment, shame, humiliation?

Whatever it’ll be, you just hope it isn’t regret. 

You have enough of that for the both of you.

[punkshort]

Swept Away: Season Two

Prologue: Two Rings

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: To celebrate taking a step forward in your relationship and moving in together, Joel charters a yacht for the night. He couldn't possibly have an ulterior motive, right?

Chapter Warnings: language, reader has a strained relationship with her parents, smut (18+ MDNI), fluff, unprotected piv sex, oral sex f! and m!receiving, multiple orgasms, reader has at least shoulder length hair, food and alcohol consumption

WC: 7.7K

Series Masterlist

"Reschedule it for next week. I made a promise."

Seven days never flew by so fast.

Joel had been pacing around his house like a caged animal all morning. It was Saturday, but he still took a few work calls just as a distraction. It didn't help much. He found his hand drifting to his pocket every two minutes where a flawless diamond ring in an expensive box was kept.

A couple months prior he had woke up early with you curled up against his side. There wasn't anything particularly exceptional about that day. It was a workday, he remembered that much. It was raining, which was unusual for Los Angeles. But on that day he woke up and looked at you sleeping so peacefully in his bed and it hit him out of nowhere: he wanted to wake up like that for the rest of his life. He had never felt more certain about anything.

He quickly ran into a problem, however. You technically already had an engagement ring. One that was used as a prop, although a very fucking real and very fucking expensive prop, back when you first met and accompanied him to Fiji. He had hired you through a dating agency that specialized in catering to higher end clients like himself. His needs were slightly unusual, however. He had wanted you to pose as his fiancée with the stipulation you weren't to breathe a word about your fake arrangement to anybody in order to win over a real estate tycoon and bid for the last parcel of land on the island.

Behind closed doors, you had your separate rooms.

It was temporary. It was only supposed to be one month and he would never see you again.

It made him laugh now to think about it. He didn't stand a chance. You had him hooked from the moment you stepped into his office with your quick wit and no-bullshit attitude. It took him a while to accept it, but once he did, he never looked back.

When you returned from the island, Joel insisted you keep the ring, which you'd worn on your right hand ever since. He went back and forth over it for weeks. Should he get you a new ring, or should he use the old one and propose to you properly?

He was going to let you decide. Either way, they were both yours, which he anticipated fielding an argument over as you still struggled to adjust to your new, lavish lifestyle with him.

As he looked out the window at the moving truck and two cars puttering up the long driveway, he wondered if he should have spaced things out a little for your benefit. Asking you to marry him on the same day you were moving into his home might be a lot for you to handle all at once. But then he saw you step out of your beat up car, one he planned to replace as soon as possible, and smiled at the excitement written on your face.

He was about to step away and go downstairs to greet you when he saw your mother and father step out of the second car. He froze for a moment, an unexpected jolt of nerves rocking through his chest. He hadn't met your parents before and when you told them you would be moving in together, they suddenly decided to drop everything and travel all the way from Tennessee to help you pack your things.

You thought it was a nice gesture given your delicate relationship with them, but he knew better. They were worried about you and they wanted to make sure he wasn't some psycho coming along to take advantage of their only daughter.

He didn't blame them one bit and he suspected he would behave similarly when Sarah met somebody one day. But he knew how he came off to people. He had a tendency to be gruff and a little cold. It was the by-product of a few horribly failed relationships, as well as years and years of cutthroat business deals. Anyone would have to be hardened to get to where he was in his career.

Still, he intended on making a good impression. These were your parents and, hopefully, his future in-laws. He wouldn't let anything screw this up.

"Honey?"

"In here, Mom!" you called from Joel's master bathroom. Your master bathroom now.

Your mother appeared in the doorway, eyes bugging out of her head when she took in the sizable room. A crystal clear glass shower that could easily fit two people, something you and Joel had already proven more than once, sat in one corner with a built in granite bench and custom tile walls imported from Italy. In the opposite corner was a massive claw foot tub that sat in front of a huge window overlooking the breathtaking ocean view from Joel's backyard. Currently, you sat on the floor in front of the double sinks built into the white marble countertop going through your boxes of toiletries.

"My goodness," your mom breathed with a hand pressed gently against her chest. "Why on earth would he have a tub right in front of a window? Anybody could see you bathing!"

"It's one sided," you giggled. "You can see out but no one can see in."

Her face relaxed and she took a step into the room, making a surprised little noise when she felt the warmth emanating from the tile floor.

"It's heated," you explained before she could ask. She nodded slowly and continued to look around in awe.

"I see."

You could hear her tone, a tone you had grown too familiar with your whole life. She wasn't pleased.

"What's wrong?" you asked, setting down your bags of makeup so you could give her your full attention. She bit her lip nervously before quickly shutting the bathroom door and joining you on the ground.

"Don't you think all this is a little... much?"

You frowned. "Much?"

"This lifestyle is what I mean. This isn't you, honey," your mom said with a soothing squeeze of your arm.

"No, but I'm getting used to it," you said defensively. "This is what Joel is used to and I love him. It doesn't bother me so much, it's just an adjustment."

"He's got a whole staff to tend to this place," she continued with a low voice. "I saw a gardener and a pool boy. Don't tell me he has a maid, too."

"Well, yeah, he does-"

Your mother's jaw dropped with a disbelieving snort.

"He can't pick up after himself?"

"He doesn't have to! He's paying someone to do it for him! Besides, he's very busy. He works long hours every day to afford all this. Why should he-"

"It humbles a person to be able to cook and clean for themselves," your mother said firmly. "It builds character."

"Mom," you whined, "it's different out here and you know it. This isn't Tennessee. Most homes have some hired help, it's just how it is."

"Well, I was just envisioning a different life for my only child, don't come for my head about it," she huffed while straightening her skirt.

"No one's coming for your head, I'm just trying to explain how people live out here. It's different but I really like it. And most of all, I'm happy. I love Joel, Mom, more than anything. And he loves me, too. He treats me well, he cares for me... he's a good man," you finished softly. Your parents never liked the idea of you moving to the west coast with your best friend, Celine, for college. It unknowingly deepened the rift between you and them that you had been trying to mend for years.

"Well, I suppose he does seem rather charming. He has nice manners, at least," she sighed. You thought back to the lunch the four of you had shared not an hour earlier, finding it surprising that your mother found something nice to say about Joel at all given the uncomfortable atmosphere. To his credit, Joel really tried. He asked your parents about their jobs and their church. He even shared some stories about himself, trying to find some common ground, but your parents hardly offered anything in return and it irked you.

"Then why were you and Dad so stand-offish during lunch?" you asked pointedly.

"We were not-"

"Yes, you were," you argued back before she could lie. "I was sitting right there. Why don't you like Joel, Mom?"

She sighed and looked around the ornate bathroom again before floating her hands in the air.

"We just aren't used to all this, sweetie. It's a lot for us. Your father feels uncomfortable around all of this... grandeur."

"Well, do you think you can try a little harder? For me?" you asked, sounding exasperated. "All of this stuff shouldn't matter as long as I'm happy, right?"

After a beat, she slowly nodded.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I'll talk to your father."

"Thank you," you breathed with a small smile. "Now, can you please help me with the last of these boxes?"

She grinned and pulled the last one over to open it up. "Of course," she said, then made a face at the way everything inside was tossed about. "You're lucky none of these things are broken. You pack like a maniac, honey."

You laughed and pushed yourself onto your knees to get a better look inside the box.

"Well, guess it's a good thing you and Dad helped out with the important stuff."

"That reminds me, the boxes for your office are still in the foyer. Dad packed all of that for you," she said while taking out a few bottles of shampoo. "You know him, properly organizing everything. He's retired but he's still labeling and sorting everything in the house like he's working a case." Your father, a recently retired police detective, always had an attention to detail. "He said your important looking work documents were all in one box he marked fragile."

"Oh, great, thank you. I think Joel's still having one of the bedrooms converted into an office space for me so I'll have to ask him where to store it for now," you said, pausing when your mother gave you a look.

"One of the bedrooms?" she repeated. "How many does he need?"

"Mom! You said you'd try!"

"You're right, you're right, I'm sorry," she said with a light laugh. Then she stood with an armful of items. "Where should I put all this?"

"That door right there is a walk-in linen closet."

You noticed her eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the spacious linen closet, but you let it go. Your relationship with them was still a little rocky and you didn't want to press the matter. She said she and your father would try to get used to Joel's lifestyle, so you had to give her time to follow through on her promise.

Your parents left for the airport in the late afternoon. After your tense conversation with your mother, you were ashamed to admit you were a little relieved that their visit had come to an end. But when you saw both your mom and dad give Joel a hug before they left, you softened up a bit, even if their hugs were a little stiff. They promised they would try and that was all you could ask for, even though Joel didn't deserve to be treated unfairly in the slightest. As their car disappeared down the winding driveway, you had visions of all the ways you could make it up to him, but then he surprised you with some unexpected plans.

"You chartered a yacht?" you exclaimed. "Why? To mark the occasion?"

Joel thought about it for half a second.

"Yeah. I wanted to celebrate," he said smoothly while sliding his hands around your waist. "We got it overnight so pack a small bag."

You squealed with delight and grabbed his face to pull him down for a quick kiss. When you turned to hurry back inside, he swatted you lightly on the ass, making you yelp and then giggle your way up the stairs towards your shared bedroom.

The marina was absolutely beautiful at sunset. The last golden rays from the sun reflected off the water as you approached, spreading flashes of deep purples, pinks and greens across the horizon. Joel had insisted on driving you both himself, something that surprised you but you shrugged off, assuming he wanted to allow his driver, Richie, to enjoy the weekend.

"We have this entire yacht?" you asked, mouth agape as you approached a huge two story charter.

"Yep," he had replied, pleased with your reaction. Two crew members had met you at the car and grabbed your bags, leaving your hands free to walk carefully across the bridge to board the yacht. You smiled bashfully when the crew of eight introduced themselves, then tucked yourself into Joel's side as the captain gave you a quick tour. When he paused in the doorway of the master suite to point out all the amenities, you shot Joel a playful look and waggled your eyebrows. He stifled a laugh and rolled his eyes before kissing the top of your head and following the captain through the lounge and to the deck, where there had to have been what looked like a hundred candles lit on every available surface. The sight took your breath away, it was so stunning. Flickering candlelight reflected off the polished wood and glassware that sat atop the table, already prepped and ready for you to be served once you got out onto the open water.

"Pink roses?" you said when you spotted the centerpiece as well as the decorative adornments that were peppered throughout the deck. You leaned in to sniff them and closed your eyes.

"I know you like the pink ones the best," Joel replied as he watched you look around in wonder. Then your eyes found his again and you smiled.

"When did you become such a romantic, Joel Miller?"

His heart skipped a beat in his chest when he replied, "When I met you."

While the yacht made its way a few miles off shore, the two of you found the bar inside the lounge and shared some drinks in front of the small fireplace while soft, classical music filtered through the speakers hidden strategically throughout the room. In the left corner of the room sat a white baby grand piano, sparkling but untouched. To the right was the bar, tended by a discreet looking gentleman with greying hair.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Your leg was draped across his lap and he was drawing slow circles over your calf, but his movements paused when you asked your question.

Joel grinned and nodded, pulling his eyes away from the flames to look at you.

"Glenn's yacht?"

You smiled and leaned in closer.

"Yep," you said, lowering your voice so the bartender couldn't overhear. "Remember the last night we were there?"

Joel bit back a groan at the memory of you on top of him, practically begging him to fuck you, but he had refused. That didn't stop you from finding another way to drive him completely insane. Instead, you had gotten yourself off by riding his thigh. It was the first time the two of you had blurred that line from a business relationship to something more.

"Yeah. Yeah, I remember," he murmured. Your eyes looked heavy as you gazed up at him and it took every ounce of strength he had not to toss you over his shoulder and take you back to the master suite right then and there. Instead, he pulled you in for a deep kiss, tasting the sweetness of champagne on your tongue.

His hand drifted back to get lost in your hair when you both heard someone nearby softly clearing their throat. You pulled away and let your gaze sheepishly fall while Joel handled the crew member who had come to let you know that dinner was about to be served.

"Oops," you whispered once the they were out of sight. A low rumble of laughter bubbled up from his chest and once you stood, he tugged you against him and cupped your face.

"Don't worry. Place'll be all ours after dinner," Joel told you. He gave you a quick kiss before curving his arm around your shoulders so he could lead you out towards the deck.

"Wha - Joel! We - we can't drive this thing!"

He chuckled at the panic in your voice. "Just for the evening. They'll drop anchor and be back in the morning. I ain't gonna get us killed, baby."

"Oh," you breathed a sigh in relief. He pulled your chair out and you sat down primly, glancing down at the complicated looking appetizer that waited for you. A small smile played at your lips when you asked, "And why are they leaving overnight, Joel?"

He sat down across from you and flicked out his cloth napkin with a wink.

"You'll see."

Dinner was elaborate and rich, but you had grown used to that with Joel. You had lost count of how many courses they brought out but when a cheese plate was placed between you after the main dish, you gave him a pained look.

"Joel?"

"Hmm?" he hummed while taking a sip of red wine. Your fingers inched across the white linen tablecloth, seeking out his hand. When his own fingers linked with yours and curled around your knuckles, you smiled at him tiredly.

"This is lovely," you began, "but I'm wondering when I'll get my dessert."

"Dessert's after the limoncello," he assured you. He shifted a little nervously in his chair and adjusted his tie. His mind was elsewhere but you had no idea.

"That's not the kind of dessert I meant," you whispered. You saw the realization dawn on him and you stifled a giggle. He leaned forward, hands still intertwined, and picked up a piece of cheese. He held it out between his thumb and forefinger and as seductively as you could, slowly stretched your neck forward to wrap your lips around his fingers and the small cube, all while maintaining eye contact with Joel.

"Good?"

You nodded and swallowed. "But I know something that tastes better."

"Christ," he groaned, eyes darkening as heat began to spread under his collar. Subconsciously, his finger began to slide your ring back and forth, fiddling with it. He wanted to just ask you right then and there. Just take the thing off and put it on your other hand and say the fucking words. But he had to wait. He had a plan.

Mercifully, dessert finally arrived. Actual dessert. Tiramisu, to be exact. But you were growing restless. He could tell by the way you sighed and tugged at the straps of your dress or flicked your hair over your shoulder to rub your neck with a soft moan. You were trying to get him to break and it was working magnificently. It had him checking his watch and mentally doing the math, trying to figure out if he had enough time to fuck you before his plan was set into motion.

The crew was packing up somewhere in the depths of the yacht. The captain had just left your table after confirming with Joel whether or not he needed anything else, and the anticipation of having the boat all to yourselves was killing you. But when he stood and extended a hand, asking you to join him on the deck instead of dragging you back to the bedroom, you hesitated. He grinned and wiggled his fingers.

"C'mon. Trust me."

You did. Of course, you did. So you stood and let him take your hand, leading you out onto the deck which was alight with flameleas candles and string lights wrapped around all the railings. A small seating area sprinkled with rose petals awaited you, the sight causing your suspicions to stir.

"All this to celebrate moving in together?" you asked. Joel didn't respond. He just smiled and sat down on the plush couch, which was facing the vast, empty ocean, and patted the seat next to him. Slowly, you sat down and leaned into his side before scanning the water. The moon was full that night and blazed a bright beam of light across the sea. It was quiet and serene and had you melting into his chest as his arms wrapped around you.

"It's peaceful," you murmured. In the distance, you could hear the soft hum of a motor from the boat taking the crew back to shore. Joel glanced nervously at his watch and you frowned. Tilting your chin up a bit, you caught his eye.

"What's going on?"

"Nothin'," he said immediately in response, only furthering your suspicions. You shifted so you could get a better look at his face.

"Why are you checking the time? What's-"

"You want somethin' to drink? I can get it for you," he interrupted. Okay, now you knew something was up. His fingers were tapping rhythmically against his leg, which was bouncing so fast the deck was creaking.

"No," you said, "Joel, why are you acting-"

A loud boom muffled the rest of your sentence, which ended up being a scream, anyway. Then a flash of color appeared in the sky above your heads and you looked up in surprise. Fireworks. There were fireworks going on above you, being set off from a barge somewhere you couldn't see on the water.

"Joel," you breathed in between booms. You looked at him and he grinned. "You did this?"

He nodded and said, "Wanted to do somethin' special."

"This is too much!" But you laughed and jumped when another firework popped in the sky, undermining any scolding on your part.

Your curiosity vanished, successfully distracted by the fireworks display. Joel curled an arm around your shoulders and you sunk against him once again with your back pressed against his front. You tipped your head back to rest on his shoulder so you could watch the fireworks, completely missing the way his heart began to beat faster against your back when he reached for your hands, which were resting in your lap.

Thinking he was just holding your hand, you shot him a quick smile before refocusing your attention on the sky. Maybe it was the drinks you had with dinner, but you hadn't even realized he slid your ring off your right hand until he held it up. Your gaze dropped down to look at it pinched between his fingers and your eyebrows knit together. The huge diamond sparkled with the reflection from the fireworks, all the reds, blues, and yellows shining within every flawless carat.

"Joel?" you said quietly. So quietly that it was impossible to hear over the loud booms.

Then you saw the tremble in his hand that held your ring and your eyes widened with a slow realization: the private yacht, the fancy dinner, the fireworks... this wasn't an evening designed to celebrate moving in together. This was something else.

Joel lifted your left hand from your lap and adrenaline began to course through your whole body. Your ability to blink and breathe just... vanished. Time might have even stood still as you stared down at your hands, watching in disbelief as he carefully slid your ring onto your left finger. Then you felt his beard brush against the shell of your ear from behind.

"Looks better on this hand. What do you think?"

Tears welled up in your eyes almost immediately. You splayed your fingers out in front of you both to look at the ring on your hand, but your vision blurred and your hand shook worse than his. Then two fingers found your chin, tilting your face to the side so he could look you in the eye.

"I wanna spend my life with you," he murmured softly. Your lower lip began to tremble and your heart stuttered in your chest, but you did your best to focus on his words. "You changed everythin', sweetheart. Changed my entire life. Brought me back together with my brother, with my daughter... reminded me what it's like to enjoy life again." His own eyes grew misty when he gave you a small smile and added, "Made me believe in love."

You laughed a little and two fat tears trickled down your cheeks.

"I've never known a peace like the one I have when I'm with you," he whispered. He was talking softly but even with the fireworks still going off above your heads, you could hear every word, almost as if the entire world melted away in that moment and all that remained was just the two of you.

His eyes looked so warm as he stared at you. They were so adoring and vulnerable. It made you want to crawl into his lap, wrap your arms around him, and never let him go. But you wanted to hear the words. You were desperate to hear the question you longed to hear, so you bit harshly into your bottom lip and fought back the desire.

Finally, he dragged in a ragged breath and asked, "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" you sobbed, and it was like the floodgates opened. You flipped around and tossed one leg over his lap to straddle him, missing the way his face beamed with excitement when you grabbed his cheeks with both hands and kissed him. Your tongue slid easily between his parted lips, catching his groan between your teeth. When your thumbs brushed over his cheeks, you felt dampness there. Tears. Shortly after, your own streaked down your face, but you couldn't stop smiling.

The fireworks were probably coming to an end, you couldn't really be sure. You were too lost in your little bubble, perched on Joel's lap with his hands fiercely gripping your waist. You couldn't remember if it was you who started to grind your hips into him or if his hands had urged you to move. Regardless, within just a few short minutes, you found yourself dragging your pussy up and down his thigh while your kisses grew more and more urgent.

"C'mon, let's go inside," he panted while you sprinkled kisses down his jaw. When he tried to pull you off him, you shook your head and pushed your knees deeper into the cushion, keeping you both planted in place.

"No - here," you murmured before hiking up the skirt of your dress so it pooled loosely around your waist, freeing your legs to spread even wider. Joel groaned when his chin dropped to his chest, watching as you pulled your panties to the side with two fingers. You bit your lip and swiped your fingers through your folds while he nearly ripped his belt open with shaky hands. He had just unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, already hard and leaking, when you pressed your glistening fingers against his lips. His blood was pumping so fast, he was growing lightheaded, and when he parted his lips to taste your arousal on your fingertips, his eyes fluttered shut and his head dropped to the back of the couch in a daze.

"Dirty girl," he rasped after he licked your fingers clean. You smirked and reached down between your bodies to wrap your hand around his aching cock. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat and opened his eyes so he could watch you stroke him up and down.

His hands squeezed your hips and encouraged you forward, unable to wait any longer. Fortunately, you couldn't, either. You lined him up against your entrance and removed your hand, the only sounds that filled the air now that the fireworks were over was your shared heavy breaths and the water lightly lapping at the side of the yacht.

"It's why you sent the crew away, right?" you breathed as you slowly sunk down on his cock. "So you could fuck me wherever you wanted?"

A strangled groan slipped past his lips when you began to shift ever so slightly, the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around him taking his breath away.

"Didn't want them to hear," he replied through clenched teeth. "Didn't think you'd - fuck - didn't think you'd be so fuckin' needy so fast."

The fact he really thought you wouldn't want to jump him as fast as possible after he proposed was laughable, and you told him so as you began to bounce quicker in his lap, gasping when the tip of his cock kissed your cervix.

Joel just chuckled breathlessly and clutched your hips harder, helping you glide up and down his shaft.

"Ain't got nothin' to do with it. You wanted me to fuck you halfway through dinner."

"Is that such a bad thing?" you moaned, arching your back when his hips began to buck up into you. You grappled frantically at his shoulders and tipped your head back with a sharp gasp, leaving you with a beautiful view of twinkling stars above you.

With your throat exposed, Joel lunged forward to suck a red mark just below your jaw. You smelled so good and your skin was so soft that it had him sitting up straighter so he could gain better access.

"God, Joel!" you cried out into the night sky. His hands grabbed at your ass, fingers digging roughly into each cheek, forcing your body up and down on his cock while he slammed into you, knocking all the oxygen from your lungs and every thought from your brain.

"Gonna make the perfect little wife, baby," he growled, teeth scraping lightly down your jaw. Wife. The word sent a thrill through you.

"Yeah?" you gasped, eyelids fluttering as you felt yourself nearing your peak. "You think so?"

"Mhm," Joel murmured into your neck. "Love you so much, love you so fuckin' much, y'make me so happy. Just wanna spend my life takin' care of you, give you everythin' you need."

He was rambling now and a lazy smile stretched across your face.

"I love you, too," you whispered before tilting your head down to capture his lips in a searing, messy kiss.

Your hips stuttered and your moans grew more high pitched each time you dropped yourself back down on his cock. And because he knew you so well, he grinned against your mouth and murmured, "You gonna come for me?"

"Yeah," you whined in between heated kisses. Your hands clawed at his face and hair and you gasped shakily every time your clit rubbed against the curls at the base of his shaft. "Yeah, yeah I'm - I'm gonna come," you breathed, too lost in your own pleasure to say much else except repeat him, so fucking close that all it took was one or two more deep thrusts and it sent you reeling into your climax.

You tightened around him with a silent scream. Your brows were furrowed and your mouth hung open against his as your orgasm rocked through your entire body. Boneless, you drooped against him, nuzzling into his neck. He pulled you in tight against his chest while fucking up into you recklessly until he let out a deep groan and his body stilled.

"Look." Joel tapped your shoulder, stirring you back to life. You forced your eyes open and followed his gaze down where you were connected. A second later you watched as a small amount of his thick, milky white release dribbled out of you, pooling at the base of his cock.

Unable to put into words how hot it was to watch yourself overflow with him, your mouth greedily found his, tongue probing past his lips with a moan.

You sat there for as long as he would allow, limp and spent while sharing wet, lazy kisses until his cock softened and he slipped out of you with a grunt. The palm of his hand was soothingly rubbing your back and you had never felt more content in your life, but when a sharp breeze drifted over the ocean and made you shiver, Joel broke the kiss and cupped your face.

"Let's go to bed."

You nodded sleepily and allowed him to lead you back into the yacht, through the abandoned lounge that still played classical music faintly through the hidden speakers, down the well lit hallway, and finally to the master suite. The bed had been turned down by one of the crew members before they left. A bottle of champagne with two glasses with a note that read congratulations! was left next to the bed, but you were too exhausted. It was a miracle you were able to wash up and change out of your clothes before slipping into the plush bedding, but you stayed awake until Joel had turned out all the lights and joined you. With a sigh, you curled up next to him, resting your cheek on his shoulder and slotting your leg between his, then finally drifted off to sleep.

The clock read a little after three in the morning when you awoke. You were in the same position you found yourself before falling asleep hours earlier: fitted snugly into Joel's side with your palm placed gently over his heart. You used the bathroom and drank some much needed water but you had trouble falling back asleep, so you perched on the bench by the window and watched the way your ring shone in the moonlight.

It took you back in time when you saw the ring on your left hand again. Memories of confusing feelings, devastating rejection, fake love stories and intense pain flickered through your mind when you thought back to the whirlwind month you spent with Joel in Fiji, masquerading as his fiancée.

But now, it was real.

Now, that lie, that story, was going to become reality.

You couldn't have been happier. After everything you had been through, all the ups and downs your relationship faced from the very beginning, you were finally going to get your much deserved happy ending.

You just wished your parents and their opinions would stop plaguing your mind.

"What're you doin'?" Joel's groggy voice called from the bed. You snapped your head up in surprise, just to find him sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing his eyes.

"Nothing. Sorry. I couldn't sleep. Too excited," you grinned when holding up your left hand. His eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the darkness, so he reached over to flick on one small lamp next to the bed. The room was cast in a dim, yellow glow, but he saw you holding up your hand and he smiled.

Joel stood and took two steps forward when he froze. Something passed over his face that had you frowning with concern.

"What's wrong?"

"I - shit!" he exclaimed before turning on his heel and rummaging through his suit coat, which he abandoned across a chair on the other side of the room when you came to bed. You cocked your head to the side and allowed yourself a moment to appreciate how fucking handsome your fiancé was, bending over in just a tight pair of black boxer briefs. Your gaze flickered back up when he swiveled around, holding a small, black box in his hand.

"I got you a new ring," he said as he crossed the room, "I'm so sorry. Forgot to give it to you earlier 'cause, well -" he shrugged and shot you a playful grin. "Y'know."

"A new ring?" you repeated as you stood. "W-why? I have this one!"

He opened the box and you gasped when you saw the flawless cushion cut, crystal clear diamond engagement ring, which was bracketed by two smaller diamonds.

"Joel," you breathed, eyes flitting back and forth between the one in the box and the one already on your hand. "I-I can't! I can't have two!"

Joel chuckled and plucked it from the box.

"Why not? You got ten fingers."

You scoffed and shook your head, but he continued.

"I wanted you to have the option and I wanted to get you somethin' new," he explained while holding it out towards you. You stared at it, still in shock, but stopped yourself from reaching for it.

"You know..." you began slyly. Joel arched an eyebrow at your tone. "You never actually did get on one knee."

His hand dropped to his side and he narrowed his eyes.

"You want me on my knees?"

You bit your lip and nodded vigorously, and when he held your gaze and began to sink down to the ground, still clad in just his underwear, your heart began to do flips in your chest.

On one knee, he murmured your name lowly and reached for your hand. You gave him your right one and grinned when he slipped it onto your finger and asked, "Will you marry me?" for the second time.

"Yes," you whispered. You took a step forward and carded your fingers through his hair. Joel leaned into your touch and briefly closed his eyes, enjoying the way your nails scraped gently over his scalp.

"I see the appeal, now," you said softly, "having a man fall to his knee like this."

"Yeah?" he rasped, opening his eyes to give you a heated look. Then his fingers drifted up your legs to push up the satin nightgown you had slipped on earlier and your breath caught in your throat.

"Get used to it, baby, 'cause I'm ready to spend the rest of my life right fuckin' here." He leaned forward, pressing his face right between your legs and taking a deep breath before mouthing hungrily at your waiting cunt through your panties. You gasped, skin tingling, and fell forward almost instantly, hands sliding helplessly over his bare back while he held you up with his hands wrapped around your thighs.

With one swift turn to the left, he pushed you up against the wall and tugged your underwear down your legs. Tossing them somewhere behind him, he lifted one of your legs to drape over his shoulder, spreading your pussy underneath your hiked up nightie.

His fingers dug into your skin when his mouth came in contact with your center, groaning in delight to find you already so wet and eager for him.

Joel's jaw dropped open wide, sealing his lips over your slit and running the tip of his tongue up the middle. Your vision immediately blurred and you threw your head back against the wall in ecstasy. The scrape of his beard against your sensitive skin, the feel of his fingertips dimpling your thighs, the way his hot tongue laved over your cunt all had you reduced to a trembling mess in a matter of minutes.

You wailed out his name into the room, your voice echoing off the walls and suddenly Joel's plan to send away the crew was making a lot of sense.

"More," you whined while rolling your hips as much as you could without losing your balance. The one foot that remained on the ground was stretched, perching on your tiptoes, while the other was curled tightly over his shoulder, holding him in place.

His mouth released you with a gasp and you whimpered pathetically at the loss while your fingers clawed uselessly at his hair.

"C'mon, let's move to the bed. Want you to sit on my face."

His voice was deep and gravelly and it send a shudder through your limbs.

"No, please, Joel, I-I... I'm so close," you begged, looking down at him with watery eyes. He looked like a mess: disheveled hair, wet mouth, flushed neck. He scanned your face and relented, giving you want you wanted and diving back in between your thighs.

You immediately resumed rolling your hips against his face, chasing your high while his tongue slid messily between your lips over and over, collecting the arousal leaking from your hole and flicking over your clit teasingly each time he dragged his tongue back up.

"I'm- I'm gonna come," you gasped, unable to look away from how enthusiastically he ate at you. It was such a turn on to see such a wealthy and powerful man on his knees for you, a man people not only in his office but throughout the country cowered before. But not you. No, you had him wrapped tightly around your finger.

Well, two fingers now that he had gifted you a second ring.

It was the way Joel's lips wrapped around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue over it with a deep groan that had you tumbling over the edge. Your body bent forward with the force of your release, curving over his back with your hands buried in his hair for leverage.

"Fuck, that's it," he whispered into your pussy before swiping his tongue through your slit again. Tears stung the backs of your eyes from the stimulation but you let him continue, trusting him implicitly.

There was no doubt in your mind you would find little circular bruises on your thighs later from the way he clutched at you. The thought of seeing those marks, of seeing the way he claimed you, had your stomach muscles tightening unexpectedly once again. You cried out weakly as another gush of fluid flooded his tongue, then shivered when you heard his surprised groan vibrate throughout your entire body.

"Jesus," you rasped, chest heaving, when he finally pulled away. His pupils were blown wide, making his eyes look nearly black in the dim lighting as he gazed up at you from his spot on the floor.

"So beautiful," he murmured breathlessly, dragging his wet lips over your thighs, kissing your bare skin and working his way up your stomach. His mouth brushed along the silky fabric of your pajamas until he reached the tops of your breasts. Once he found your warm skin again, he peppered kisses all across your chest and neck until he was finally standing upright and plunging his tongue greedily into your mouth.

His cock pressed hard and pulsating against your stomach while his tongue leisurely mapped your mouth, and your legs trembled from the idea of taking him inside your cunt again. You knew yourself. It would be way too much. You were exhausted and your muscles felt so weak, but you would be damned if you went to bed without taking care of him. So you broke the kiss, gave him a playful wink, then sunk to your knees between his body and the wall.

If he had any qualms about the change of plans, he didn't show it. He braced one hand against the wall and the other got lost in your hair when you peeled down the band of his boxer briefs and wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft. You dragged your fist up and down a few times, humming softly under your breath at how hard he was for you.

You locked eyes with him. He looked absolutely wrecked, leaning against the wall and looking down at you, jaw slack and eyes glazed over.

While still maintaining eye contact, you opened your mouth wide and slid your lips carefully around his girth, tongue swirling around the tip of his cock before taking him deeper. His hips shifted forward, gently pushing more of himself inside your mouth until he kissed the back of your throat. You gagged a little and pulled back, earning a chuckle from up above.

"Too much?"

All you were able to do was shake your head. Your mouth was full of him, sucking him deeper once again while taking steady breaths through your nose. Joel's fingers tightened in your hair when you began to bob up and down, hollowing your cheeks with one hand still fisting his base and the other gripping his thigh for support.

"Fuck yeah, that - that's good," he moaned. Your chest swelled from the praise so you kept going, keeping a steady rhythm, sliding your tongue up and down the length of him until your lips felt numb and your jaw ached, and even then, you kept going.

"Oh shit, baby, don't stop," he growled. His fist tugged at your hair a little harder than you expected and you gasped around him. Somewhere above you, his other arm collapsed against the wall, now relying on his forearm to keep him upright while you sucked his cock with the kind of enthusiasm that had his knees going weak and his stomach pulling tight.

His hips rocked forward, meeting you thrust for thrust, groaning your name as he watched himself disappear inside your mouth over and over. Your tongue was flat along the underside of his cock when you felt it pulse and a moment later he spilled down your throat, swallowing every drop of his hot, sticky release.

He was cursing breathlessly above you while you cleaned him up with your tongue, and it wasn't until his hips stuttered and he yanked you off him by the hair that you stopped.

"Christ," Joel whispered, sagging tiredly against the wall with his forehead pressing against his wrist after you kindly fixed his boxers for him. His eyes were squeezed shut and his lips were parted, sucking in air fast as he tried to catch his breath.

"Oughta propose to you more often," he panted with his eyes still closed. You giggled and stood, taking his hand. His eyelids fluttered open, allowing you to lead him back to bed.

"Please don't tell me you have a third ring somewhere," you said tiredly after you burrowed under the covers and he curled himself around you from behind. He chuckled and kissed the back of your neck.

"Nah, just two."

You smiled when he nuzzled your ear, his deep breathing already lulling you back to sleep.

"Where do you think we should get married?" you yawned, yearning to just hear his voice. His fingers searched for your hand resting across your stomach and he gave it a squeeze.

"Thought we already decided a year ago," he mumbled. His lips grazed the shell of your ear when he said:

"Fiji, baby."

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[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When You Call Them Clingy| Hyungline Pt2

Hyungline x Gn! Reader

(sorry this took like forever lmao ive been going through it in life unfortunately💀💀💀 )

Bangchan

The hum of the studio was still present, but now it felt different- less like a comforting embrace and more like static electricity prickling your skin.

The once-warm atmosphere had turned cold, muted, and the silence stretched like a chasm between you and Chan.

He didn’t ask if you needed anything anymore. He didn’t look at you at all.

The first hour after your slip-up had been the worst. You’d sat there, staring at the screen of your phone, scrolling aimlessly to avoid looking at him. But your thoughts betrayed you, circling back to the look on his face when you’d called him clingy- the hurt in his eyes, the faint slump of his shoulders, the way his movements slowed, as though your words had drained the energy out of him.

This is almost unbearable... You thought to yourself. I've never been uncomfortable around Chris before, rather the complete opposite...I don't like this.

You had apologized in your head a dozen times already, running over how you could bring it up without making things worse. But every time you glanced his way, you found yourself frozen, the words dying in your throat.

I was harsh...I'm feel horrible...

Chan wasn’t usually one to sulk, but this was different. He didn’t seem angry-he didn’t snap or lash out.

Although you wished he would have. It may have been better than this thick tension.

But instead of yelling or cursing, he buried himself in his work, shutting you out completely. His usual hums and absentminded muttering as he worked were nowhere to be found. The tapping of keys and the occasional adjustment of a dial were the only sounds that filled the room.

It felt unbearable.

After almost two hours of sitting in silence, the tension was too much. You shifted in your chair, swallowing the lump in your throat as you finally spoke up.

“Chan,” you said softly, your voice hesitant.

He didn’t respond immediately. His fingers paused over the keyboard, but he didn’t turn to look at you.

“Yeah?” he said, his tone neutral- too neutral.

You winced. “I didn’t mean to sound so harsh earlier. I-” You rushed out.

“It’s fine,” he cut you off, his voice tight, clipped.

But it wasn’t fine. You could hear it in the way his words came out too quickly, the way he immediately went back to typing as though he hadn’t just brushed you off.

Serves me right...

You tried again. “It’s not fine. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He let out a breath, finally turning his chair to face you. His expression was guarded, a carefully constructed mask of calm, but his eyes gave him away.

“Look,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I get it. I was being overbearing. I just…I thought I was helping. I'll ease up from now on."

The words hit you like a punch to the chest. He wasn’t trying to defend himself- he was agreeing with you, accepting blame where there wasn’t any to take.

And you didn't want him to agree.

“You- you were helping,” you said quickly. “I was just… overwhelmed, and I didn’t think before I spoke. I-I don't want you to ease up...I love you the way you are.”

Chan nodded slowly, but the way his jaw tightened told you he wasn’t convinced.

“Sometimes I overdo it,” he said, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I don’t know how to…not worry about the people I care about. Or love.”

Your heart sank. He wasn’t just talking about you. He was talking about himself, about how he carried the weight of everyone’s needs on his shoulders, even when it wasn’t his responsibility.

“And I made you feel like you couldn’t breathe,” he added, almost to himself.

“No,” you said quickly, leaning forward. “That’s not what I meant. You’re always so thoughtful, Chan. I just…” You trailed off, struggling to put your feelings into words. "I...uh...damn it..."

He tilted his head, waiting for you to continue, but there was a distance in his gaze now- an invisible barrier you hadn’t seen before.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re doing something wrong,” you said finally, your voice trembling. “Because you’re not. I was just having a bad day, and I-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupted again, standing abruptly. “It’s getting late. I should wrap this up anyway.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden shift in his tone.

It wasn’t angry, but it was dismissive.

Final.

“Chan-”

“Seriously, it’s fine,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You should get some rest. I’ll finish up here.”

The dismissal stung more than you expected. You stood up, hesitating for a moment, unsure if you should push further or give him space. But the way he had already turned back to his desk made the decision for you.

“Okay,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible.

You grabbed your bag and made your way to the door, glancing back one last time. Chan was hunched over his keyboard, his back to you, the soft glow of the monitor casting shadows across his face.

“Goodnight,” you murmured.

He didn’t respond.

As you headed out he called out.

"Y/N."

You turned towards him, hopeful.

"You don't have to come tomorrow. Ji...sung-ah and...Innie-ah are supposed to be here to work on something with me."

You sighed and bit the inside part of your lip. He was terrible at lying.

Then a small rush of unrighteous anger hit you.

"Thats okay, I had plans anyways." You shot back, leaving. You almost missed the surprised look as he lifted his head from his bag.

The walk home was a blur. The guilt in your chest felt heavier with every step, suffocating you until you could hardly breathe.

But now that guilt stemmed from also saying something to purposefully provoke him.

Why would I even say that? I have no reason to be mad- but he...he has all the reason to be.

You thought about texting him, but what could you say? Nothing you typed out felt like enough. Apologizing once wasn’t going to fix this.

And you were too prideful to admit your pettiness.

It's embarrassing...

When you finally got home, you dropped your bag by the door and sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. You replayed all the moments over and over in your head, wishing you could go back and choose different words, wishing you could make him understand how much he meant to you.

But then your anger driven words hit you. You just loved digging yourself deeper graves. So, you pulled out your phone and shot a text.

Deciding that if you were at a standstill with each other, you at least wouldn't lie to him.

——————————————————————————

Minho

The next morning, you woke up feeling a mix of guilt and lingering irritation. Sleep hadn’t come easy, your mind replaying the events from the previous night like a broken record. You had lashed out, hurt him, and now there was this gnawing uncertainty about where things stood.

You debated texting Minho to apologize, but the thought of his cold tone from last night stopped you. The memory of his quick, hollow kiss on your temple was like a dull ache in your chest- a reminder of how much damage had been done.

You sighed as you reached for your phone, jumping when you see a text from Minho.

Minho: Dori didn't even wait for me to finish preparing his breakfast before eating Soonie's. Such a menace.

You stared at the text for a long moment, unsure of what to make of it. It wasn’t unusual for him to send updates about his cats, but this felt like an attempt to return to normalcy without directly addressing what had happened.

Should I respond? Should I apologize? You wanted to, but the thought of putting your emotions into words felt daunting.

Instead, you liked the message, telling yourself you’d figure it out later. But as the day dragged on, and you found yourself unable to focus on anything. By the evening, your phone buzzed, breaking you from your thoughts.

Minho: Did you eat?

The question was simple, almost routine, but it held a strange weight. And you were unsure how to respond.

Was this his way of reaching out, or was he just trying to check a box out of habit?

You hesitated before typing back: You: Yeah. Did you?

His reply came almost immediately: Minho: Mhm. Chan-hyung made japchae. Ate while working. Minho: Also, three cups of pudding.

You couldn't help but let out a little giggle. You could picture him in his studio, his face reflected in a the mirrors, as he sat crisscross on the dance floor, scribbling choreo ideas, spoon in one hand and a cup of pudding beside him. The image tugged at your heartstrings in the way only a lover could do.

You: Busy day? Minho: Always.

You sighed and rested your head on the back of your couch.

Short. Not necessarily clipped, but there were no teasing or playful jabs. No emojis. Just facts. It felt so unlike him, and it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

You could feel the awkwardness as if he was sitting in the room with you.

You: I’m sorry about last night. You typed out a response, then deleted it, then typed it again. Finally, you settled on: You: I miss you.

The three dots signaling his response appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared. You held your breath, waiting.

Minho: Yeah...

You: I'm sorry.

Minho: It's fine.

It wasn’t fine. You knew that. The lack of warmth in his reply was enough to confirm it.

You: It doesn’t feel fine. Minho: Maybe it’s not...

There it was. The crack in the veneer. Your chest tightened as you stared at his words. You wanted to fix it, to make it right, but you didn’t know how.

You: Can we talk? Minho: Not right now. I’m tired.

The conversation ended there. You stared at the screen long after his reply, the words “I’m tired” echoing in your mind. It wasn’t just physical exhaustion he was talking about. He was emotionally drained, and you were the reason.

You: Okay, goodnight. I love you. Minho: Night. I love you too.

Over the next two weeks, things didn't get much better.

You hadn't seen him in person, and only had a few video calls where anytime you tried to bring up an apology, Minho deflected the conversation.

It felt like more of an awkward and intimate friendship interacting rather than a couple. And you needed to change that. You couldn't handle it. You missed your boyfriend.

Minho had always been steady, a constant in your life. You hadn’t realized how much of a lifeline he was until you cut it with a single careless word.

Clingy.

The way his expression had shifted when you said it- it haunted you. Minho, who rarely let his emotions crack the surface, had been hurt. You’d seen it, felt it in the way he pulled back from you. And you wanted to pull him back towards you.

That’s what brought you to his house a few nights later, your chest tight with desperation and dread. You didn’t have a plan, just a need to be near him, to try and fix what you’d broken.

The porch light cast a faint glow as you arrived, the sight of it familiar yet unsettling. You hesitated at the keypad, your fingers trembling as you entered the code. For a moment, you feared he might have changed it, but the lock clicked open with a soft, mechanical hum.

The sound felt louder than it should have in the quiet night, and your heart ached with the thought that you still knew this house so well.

You stepped inside, the warmth of the entryway doing little to ease the chill in your bones.

“Minho?” Dori was the only cat by the door, immediately rushing to you to rub up against your legs. "Min?"

Your voice was soft, tentative, as you slipped off your shoes and into slippers, but it went unanswered.

The faint murmur of voices reached you from the living room. You moved toward the sound, your footsteps hesitant.

And then you saw them.

She was sitting on the couch, her laughter carrying easily in the stillness of the house.

Minho was beside her, close enough that the space between them seemed insignificant. His expression, one that had been so cold and was open-relaxed in a way you hadn’t seen in minute.

Your stomach twisted painfully, the scene before you crashing down like a tidal wave.

You must have made a sound, because Minho’s head turned sharply in your direction. His eyes widened, surprise etched across his face.

“Y/N?”

The girl followed his gaze, her expression a mix of confusion and mild curiosity.

You froze, your pulse hammering in your ears.

“I-” The words caught in your throat, your mind scrambling to come up with an explanation for why you were here, standing uninvited in his doorway.

“Y/N-ah, wait-” He said, scrambling up from the couch, tripping over Dori who had decided to join the party.

But you were already backing away.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you said quickly, your voice cracking as you stumbled toward the door. You knocked into the cats water bowl, soaking your feet. The lump in your throat threatened to choke you, but you forced the words out. “I’ll just- go.”

Minho reached for you, his movements sharp and deliberate. “Don’t-”

You didn’t wait for him to finish, pulling away. The door slammed shut behind you, the cold air biting at your skin as you stepped into the night.

You didn’t realize you were still wearing the house shoes Minho had bought for you months ago until you were halfway down the street, your steps uneven on the pavement. The absurdity of it made your throat tighten, but the tears came before the laughter could.

Your vision blurred as you walked aimlessly, the weight in your chest pressing down until it felt hard to breathe. You could still see her face, hear her laugh. It was seared into your mind.

There is no way he could have moved on in just two weeks...right?

Could he have...no. Never.

But had he?

You didn’t know either way. And you couldn’t bring yourself to stay long enough to find out.

Back at the house, Minho stood frozen by the door. Doongie let out a soft mew, as if speaking.

"I know..." Minho said to the cat.

His jaw clenched as he stared at the space where you’d been, staring at where your shoes were left, your sudden departure leaving a suffocating silence along with them.

“Minho?” the girl called hesitantly, her voice breaking through the tension.

He turned to her, his expression unreadable.

“You should go.” he said finally, his tone flat.

Her brows furrowed in confusion, but she didn’t argue. She gathered her things quickly, giving Doongie a quick scratch, the sound of her footsteps fading as the door closed behind her.

Minho sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against the wall. His gaze fell to the floor, and for the first time, he noticed the trail of damp footprints leading to the door- proof of your hurried escape.

You hadn’t even waited to hear him out.

He wanted to chase after you, to get an explanation for why you’d come in the first place.

But he didn’t move. Instead, he stood there in the silence, the weight of your absence pressing down on him; and he was stuck wondering how something you caused had now become a snowballed issue he needed to resolve.

——————————————————————————

Changbin

You sat there frozen, the echo of his quiet, defeated tone playing on a loop in your mind. It wasn’t like him to leave like that- without a fight, without reassurance, without trying to smooth things over. He had always been one to want to ease conflict in the calmest manner.

Your eyes drifted to the coffee table where his phone sat, screen dark and mocking in the dim light. He must’ve forgotten it in his rush to leave, and the realization sent a pang of guilt straight to your chest. You couldn’t even call him to try and make things right.

With trembling hands, you picked up his phone, turning it over in your palm. It was a small, insignificant thing, but it felt like the only connection you still had to him.

The weight of Hyunjin’s text was heavier now, replaying in your mind like a cruel taunt.

He had planned to propose tonight.

And you had ruined it.

You pressed the phone to your chest, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. You couldn’t stop picturing the way his face had fallen, the light in his eyes dimming with every word you’d said. The warmth he carried with him, the energy that filled every room he walked into, was gone. And it made you feel terrible.

Your hands tightened around his phone as you leaned back on the couch, your thoughts spiraling. Changbin wasn’t just a boyfriend- he was your safe space, your biggest cheerleader, the person who always knew how to make you laugh when you wanted to cry.

And tonight, you had been the one to make him feel small.

You let out a shaky breath, blinking back the tears threatening to spill over. There was no way you could let things stay like this.

So, you got to work.

--

Changbin’s car coasted slowly down the street, the low hum of the engine the only sound in the otherwise quiet night. His mind buzzed, replaying every moment of the evening- your harsh words, the hurt in his chest, and the sudden shift in the air between you two. He could still feel the weight of your gaze, and your frustration.

He had tried so hard.

Maybe it is my fault...

He wanted to make the night perfect, make it something to remember. A sweet cute, relaxed proposal. Soft and warm and everything that represented the love he had for you.

But now he was left uncertain, second-guessing everything. The familiar streets blurred as his thoughts swirled, mixing with the disappointment and confusion still lodged in his heart. His grip tightened around the steering wheel.

As he pulled into his driveway, he killed the engine but didn’t immediately move. He sat there for a while, the headlights casting long shadows across the pavement. It was cold, but he didn’t feel it. Instead, his chest was heavy, a knot of frustration and sorrow gnawing at him.

I need to apologize. Maybe then-

Reaching for his phone, he noticed a slight tremor in his hands.

Is that the best thing to do though...what if Y/N-ie is still mad...

He spent the next couple minutes thinking about texting you- even though he hadn’t done anything inherintantly wrong.

But the thought of sending an apology and admitting to a fault he didn’t deserve seemed like the easiest way to get things back to normal.

He swiped the phone screen on, but his stomach dropped when he saw his empty hand. He reached to pat his pockets.

He didn’t have his phone with him.

He trailed his eyes at the empty seat next to him, hoping maybe it was there, as the realization hit him harder than it should’ve.

His phone was still on the couch at your place. He must’ve left it there in the rush to get away.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, the frustration and anxiety rising again.

He shifted the car back into gear, pulling out of his driveway and heading back to your apartment. As he drove, he let out a deep sigh, trying to shake off the weight pressing on him.

He didn’t know what to expect when he saw you again. He didn’t even know what he wanted from the rest of this night.

Back at your place, you were busy, but not in the way you had planned. You paced the living room, biting your lip as you nervously looked over the decorations you had hastily thrown together. You had wanted everything to be perfect for him, the way he’d promised it would be tonight, but now… you were the one fixing things.

You were the one putting the final touches on a proposal- his proposal.

Your heart flipped over and over in your chest, as you adjusted things anxiously.

You had to scrounge through a ton of different leftover decorations from previous events and holidays; and it looked like the spirit of every celebratory occasion had thrown up over your living room.

You had tried so hard to get it right, to show him how sorry you were that your nerves and selfishness had ruined everything.

When you heard the distant rumble of his car approaching, your heart skipped a beat. You quickly fixed your hair and wiped your hands on your pants, as if trying to make up for everything all at once.

You hadn’t planned this, hadn’t thought through how you were going to apologize. You just knew you couldn’t let him walk away- couldn’t let him leave the night without fixing at least a small part of it.

The doorbell rang, and you froze, your pulse quickening in your throat.

You opened it, and there he was. Changbin. Standing there with an unreadable expression, his eyes flicking over your face before he looked down at the phone in his hand.

You didn't know if you imagined his red rimmed eyes.

“I-” he started, but the words faltered. He opened his mouth again, as if trying to say something, but nothing came out. "I left my phone."

You handed it to him, and he stood there awkwardly turning it in his hands.

"Bin, come in," you whispered, stepping aside to let him in.

He hesitated for a long moment, his feet still on the other side of the threshold, as if he were debating whether to leave or stay. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the uncertainty in his movements.

But then, with a deep sigh, he stepped inside.

You led him to the living room. His eyes stayed on the floor. He didn’t sit down, didn’t speak, just stood there.

"Y/N, I'm sor-"

"You don’t need to apologize," you said, voice barely audible as you walked toward him. You didn’t know how else to start. "I’m the one who messed up tonight. It wasn't you. It was all me."

Changbin shook his head, though it seemed like he was trying to process what he was feeling. He opened his mouth again, his voice hoarse. "No, it wasn't you. I…I didn’t mean for-"

"Changbin, don't fool yourself." You said with a sarcastic chuckle. "You know it was all my fault-"

"Y/N I was the one who was-"

"-I ruined your proposal. Of course it's my fault." You finished.

Your words stopped him. He closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of everything hanging in the air between you.

"So you knew..." he murmured, his voice cracking just slightly.

"Hyunjin texted. I saw it on your screen."

Changbin sighed and then looked around, seeing the decorations.

"What..."

"Since I ruined your proposal I thought I could fix it. As an apology."

The air between you thickened suddenly.

"I-I know it's not the best or the prettiest, but I thought—"

His voice faltered as he looked up at you, eyes filled with something unreadable. Shock, confusion… and then something softer, something heavier.

"What…what did you do?"

You froze. Your heart pounded.

He was staring at everything—the decorations, the candles, the careful details meant for him to present to you.

"I thought… I'd throw something together," you repeated, your voice small. "To fix your proposal."

"Fix it?"

And in that moment, you realized just how wrong that had sounded.

"N-No! I meant fix the night. Not your proposal—nothing was wrong, I just—I ruined the moment, and—"

You were scrambling, desperate to explain.

"Binnie, I—"

"I understand, Y/N."

His quiet chuckle sent a chill through you. It wasn't warm, wasn't teasing. It was sad.

"You made another opportunity," he said, his voice steady but distant. "You set up a proposal."

"Yes! An opportunity, not-" But then you saw it. The rapid blinking, the slight shift in his expression. The way he swallowed hard, as if forcing down words he wouldn't let himself say.

And suddenly, it clicked.

He wasn't upset about your wording. He wasn't even upset that you'd tried to make things right. He was upset because you'd taken this from him. Because he had wanted to be the one to do this for you.

When you had called him clingy earlier, you had let your stressors guide you to insult what you loved most about him.

How he wanted to do everything for you.

His love language towards you always tended to be acts of service.

And while a proposal wasn't necessarily though, it made sense that he wanted to do this for you. One of the biggest acts of your two lives.

He wanted to gift it to you, and you took it away.

For a long, suffocating moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, without another word, he stepped back. His hands curled into fists, then relaxed. He exhaled, gaze flickering between you and the scene you'd set. And then he turned.

You barely processed it as he walked past you, his presence fading with each step toward the door.

"Binnie, wait-"

But he didn't stop. The door opened, and before you could find the right words, the ones that wouldn't make everything worse—

It clicked shut.

——————————————————————————

Hyunjin

The moment Hyunjin you shut the door, you felt a wave of regret crash over you. You stewed in your regret for a while before you succumbed to it.

You couldn't stand it.

You rushed out the door, hoping to catch up; even if it had already a bit since his departure. But you knew him, and he probably hadn't made it far, taking his long legs for granted and dragging out his journey.

You wanted to stop him, to explain, to make him see what you couldn't say- but your pride had already built a wall too high. The words you had snapped at him stung, but there was a fear settling deep within you, too. Fear of rejection, fear of the misunderstanding spiraling out of control.

Fear of losing him from a quick yet grave mistake.

The street was quiet, and your footsteps echoed in the empty space. You turned the corner, but in your rush, you hadn't paid attention to where you were going.

It seemed you had taken one wrong turn after another, and suddenly the comforting glow of the familiar streetlights was replaced with unfamiliar darkness.

Panic rose in your chest. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you fumbled to pull it out, only for it to die before you could see.

You cursed under your breath. Of course, it died. Why wouldn't it? Your mind was foggy, and you could barely focus on anything, let alone figure out where you were. The tightness in your chest felt suffocating, but you pushed through it.

You wandered a little until you found a cute little convenience store, stepping inside, letting the warmth encapsulate you. You decided to grab a snack while you charged your phone, the clerk so graciously allowing you to charge it behind the desk.

You figured while you ate you could figure out what to say to Hyunjin, to mend whatever crack you had caused.

--

Meanwhile, Hyunjin still felt the sting of your words settled deep in his chest. His jaw clenched as he shoved his hands into his pockets, walking briskly down the street.

It wasn’t fair. He had done nothing wrong, yet you had pushed him away like he was too much. Like his affection- his need to be close to you- was suffocating.

Me? Too much- HAH. As if.

You were just being bratty because you were in a bad mood...right?

I'm not actually too much am I?

And maybe it was dramatic, maybe it was childish, but he wanted you to chase after him. To call out his name, to grab his sleeve, to do something to prove you cared as much as he did.

But the street behind him remained quiet.

His throat tightened. His steps slowed.

You weren’t coming.

Hyunjin scoffed, shaking his head. Fine. If you weren’t going to run after him, then you could suffer.

He would make you grovel, make you look at him with those wide, guilty eyes and apologize.

Beg a little. Then - only then - he’d pull you into his arms, stroke your hair, kiss your forehead, and tell you it was okay.

Because at the end of the day, that’s all he wanted.

To make things okay again.

With a sigh, he turned back around, heading toward your apartment, already playing out how he’d drag this out just enough to make you squirm before giving in.

But when he got to your door, his smirk faltered.

The lights were off, but the door was cracked.

His brows knitted together as he stepped into a completely empty home.

You were supposed to be here. You were supposed to be sitting inside, stewing in guilt, waiting for him to come back so you could apologize properly.

His fingers twitched as he opened your bedroom door. He went to the bathroom and knocked.

No answer.

He knocked, a little harder this time.

Still nothing.

A flicker of unease crept up his spine. He pulled out his phone and called. It rang twice before going straight to voicemail.

Hyunjin swallowed. His throat was dry.

His mind raced through every possibility. Maybe you just went out for air. Maybe you ran to the convenience store. Maybe-

But his gut told him otherwise.

His gut told him something was wrong.

His fingers curled around his phone, knuckles white as he sucked in a sharp breath. His frustration, his plan to make you beg, his need to be dramatic- all of it evaporated, replaced by one single, overwhelming thought.

He needed to find you.

Now.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads @jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld @kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9 @minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg @leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon @night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz @rockstarkkami @emilyywhyy

taglist specific:

@darling-imobsessed @changbinismymuscledaddy @artist2181 @minniesverse @monbrigh @20staaa @aeri-skzver @noannah @skysole @chanssmiles @depressedarlling @

[softtdaisy]

your favorite brother / Aaron Hotchner

summary. you thought you would never deal with Hotchner brothers again. And here came Aaron. Arresting you. And making up for the arrest.

words count. 3,055

what to expect. mention of murder, mention of abuse, mention of Sean (guess it's important to say it) not a real smut because i'm still uncomfortable writing it but it's implied

a/n. this might be one of my favorite fic since i started writing again, i really took the time to do something sensual. and i'm trying to something new with the gif so??? i hope you will love it 🤍

F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

You’ve seen Aaron Hotchner more these past two days than the whole time you were dating Sean, his brother. 

It’s not like you didn’t try to back then. You always found it sad that both brothers weren’t in touch and didn’t seem close at all. Sean didn’t seem very fond of his brother, criticizing him a lot for many things that you didn’t even understand most of the time. You often thought that he was looking for excuses to blame Aaron for many things in his life that were not his fault. But it wasn’t your place to defend a man you never met. 

You only met Aaron once, in your ten months relationship with his brother.

You guessed he tried to do some effort by inviting him to Jack’s birthday that year. You almost didn’t come. It was the beginning of your relationship with Sean and you weren’t sure it was right to be there after months (years?) of the Hotchner’s brothers not seeing each other.

But Sean insisted. Saying he didn’t want to go alone in case they argue. So you were there. 

You remembered the first time you saw Aaron Hotchner.

He looked nothing like your boyfriend. Neither physically or mentally. Maybe that’s why it was harder to contain the immediate attraction you had for him.

Aaron had this dark masculine figure, so serious and imposing, yet with a little light coming from the happy look on his face that it was impossible to miss him. It was his son's birthday and Aaron was the center of attention.

You guessed the FBI outfit was different from the one he was wearing that day: a dark blue shirt that was revealing his biceps and veins and a dark jean that looked so good on his long legs. His hair was not styled, almost like he woke up a few minutes before you arrived.

And when he turned around to greet you, the smile that he gave you was easily one of the most beautiful ones you’ve ever seen. Sincere, genuine and glowing.

He was far from the gloomy figure that Sean described to you. You even wondered if he didn’t overstate that description to prevent you from falling for his brother. 

Funny coming from a confident man that never seems to fear losing his women.

As much as you tried to fight it, you ended up daydreaming about Aaron more than once that day. 

The way he bent over the table, talking to his coworkers, got you lost in your mind about being in this position too. With him.

The way he put a hand on your shoulder to thank you for being here got you thinking about the heat of his skin and how good it would feel elsewhere on your body.

Your brain even memorized his features so well that Aaron was even part of your dirty dream that night. You claimed it was the other Hotchner brother but you could never forget the feeling of the dark haired hands on your body. 

But the two brothers ended up fighting only a few days after Jack’s party and you put aside everything you remembered about Aaron right after. Not only because of the fight but because of the way Sean ended up treating you.

You never wanted to hear about the Hotchner brothers ever again.

And you could have easily gone with that state of mind for the rest of your life. If your coworker wasn’t killed in the elevator. 

Real problem.

You weren’t sure why the FBI got called on the case. Sure it was terrible and premeditated, you don’t kill someone on an elevator out of nowhere, not even after a bad day. And that man had a few complains against him for sexual harassment. It didn’t take two detectives to get the motive.

So when your boss told you that the FBI would work on the case, you didn’t really get it but accepted it.

But when you saw Aaron Hotchner coming through the door, you thought that maybe fate was behind it.

If the attraction was born on Jack’s birthday with his casual look, it came back bigger when you saw him. The charcoal grey suit, the burgundy tie, the dark hair perfectly styled, the silver watch shining on his wrist and the serious look on his face, everything made you lose it that day.

You weren’t the only one surprised by the unplanned and supposed-to-never-happen-again reunion. 

“Didn’t know you were working here.” Aaron said after he finished talking to your boss. He walked straight to your desk, his knees barely touching it. Like he was trying his best to not enter your life again.

“It’s not like you knew a lot about me.” you replied, folding your arms against your chest. You noticed his eyes looking down on you before going back to your face. This was almost a criticism. But could you really blame him for not staying in touch with his brother’s ex-girlfriend?

Aaron sighed, looking away to make sure nobody was listening. “Listen, I know you complained about the victim. We need to hear you.”

You tried not to look disappointed that it took him less than a minute to change the conversation and focus on the case. There was so much more you wanted to say. 

But you also noticed that it took him that same amount of time to change his mind about his place in your life and put a hand on your desk.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked, frowning. “He was convinced every person that walked through this door wanted to have sex with him. To the point he didn’t mind cornering people to get what he wanted.”

You noticed how the hand Aaron had put on your desk turned into a fist. “I slapped him, once.” you added. “It was during last year Christmas’ party. Apparently, my red dress attracted him like a bull to the point he followed me to the toilet to finally have his rest. He said it was my fault.” you took a break, breathing. “He’s the one who’s dead now.”

Maybe you dreamt it but you’re sure you saw a smile on Aaron’s face. Short and very small. But a proof he heard you. Anything else, Aaron?”

“I’ll tell you.” you loved how his eyebrows went up and down, just like his eyes on you. He took one second from his time to look at you before walking back to his team. 

You spent the whole day searching for him in corners and other rooms. Your colleagues always laughed about you being closed to the coffee machine as a way to satisfy your caffeine addiction. Which wasn’t completely false. But you were more than glad when the man haunting your thoughts came to take one more than once. It was good a distraction from work and the mess happening that day.

Next thing you knew, it was 8 p.m., your day was over and Aaron Hotchner was waiting for you. But not casually. 

He was waiting to bring you to the police station. 

“That’s a joke, right?” you asked, chuckling at the idea. It was kind of funny to be arrested by your ex brother-in-law. But there was no sight of fun on his face. 

And when he walked behind you to escort you, Aaron leaned closer to your ear. “Don’t make things more difficult.” he whispered. You closed your eyes for a second, imagining other moments where this man could whisper things in your ear. But only for a second. Because Aaron was walking quickly behind you, hurrying you up outside.

He was the one helping you get in the car. You appreciated the irony of him opening the door like a gentleman. Aaron noticed the look in your eyes, the anger of being arrested for something you clearly didn’t do. And the betrayal of him being the one arresting you. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled so softly you almost didn’t hear it.

But you did. And it was the melody that stayed in your head the whole ride.

The questioning was pure torture.

Aaron asked to not do it, a conflict of interests that the team quickly learned about when they did some research on you. So you met agent Prentiss and Morgan. Well, meet again technically because you remembered seeing them at Jack’s birthday. But there was no time for chatting.

Maybe it was because of your connection with their boss or they saw the sincerity in your words, but none of them seemed to believe in your guilt.

But you still had to stay there because you were one of their unsub. Telling the same story over and over.

“You said you wanted him dead.” Prentiss said, showing you a screenshot from a conversation with your colleagues. 

You couldn’t contain your laugh. “That son of a bitch tried to abuse me. He tried to abuse almost every woman that walked in our office. He was waiting for them like a goddamn hunter. And I should ask for his happiness? He’s better where is now.” you looked at her in the eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I killed him.”

This continued like that for hours. Of them leaving the room and leaving you alone. Even if you could still feel Aaron’s look on you through the glass -at least you liked to think he was there. And both of them coming back to ask you more questions about work and the victim. 

It was midnight when you finally were allowed to come home. This time, you didn’t look for Aaron at the station. But you found him in your dreams. Whether you wanted it or not. 

That was how you ended spending the day at your apartment instead of work. You took your day off and learnt in the afternoon that the real responsible had been caught. 

And again, you thought this case being solved meant you were finally free from the Hotchner brothers.

When the sun started to come down, you heard three knocks on your door. The atrocity of what happened the day before didn’t stop you from opening your door to strangers.

Except it wasn’t a stranger.

It was the man hunting your dreams and fantasies. 

“What do you want Aaron?” you asked, moving away to let him come in.

You weren’t the only one to whom the first meeting between you two was engraved in your mind. Aaron perfectly remembered the day Sean brought you to Jack’s birthday.

His brother didn’t tell him he would bring someone. And when he heard the gossips when you arrived, before seeing you two, he regretted inviting Sean. Of course his brother would do something to annoy him.

Then he saw you.

You had lowered to be at Jack’s level and were laughing at a joke he apparently told you. You looked mesmerised, like his son was the most interesting person in the whole garden. And if you asked Aaron, he would say it’s true. But to see that look on someone that didn’t know either him or Jack was flattering. And appealing.

It wasn’t only the way you acted with Jack. It was you, entirely.   

He remembered the glow in your eyes when you first talked. He remembered how you always seemed to look for him. He remembered seeing you get lost in your thoughts, wondering if he was the cause.

He remembered the necklace you were wearing: a gold chain with an emerald. A gift from Sean. He remembered thinking how his hands would look so much better around your neck. 

Aaron felt bad for having such a sudden and massive desire for his brother’s girlfriend. And just like you, you were the only one in his mind when he went to sleep that night. Or during the showers that lasted longer than usual the following days.

Then life carried on. He somehow forgot about you or his attraction for you. And after his fight with Sean, he wasn’t even aware that you two broke up. Not until yesterday, when you revealed during the questioning that you were single.

“Apologize.” he finally replied. You turned around to look at him. Aaron leant against the wall, like a statue that belonged there. You guessed his day was over by the way his tie was a little less thigh around his neck than yesterday or how the first button of his shirt was undone. He looked tired. This case was draining. Not only by the murder itself but by you being part of it. 

You nervously chuckled at this. “Don’t worry Aaron, I’m used to the Hotchner brothers hurting me.” 

You haven’t thought about Sean since your breakup. You even erased the memory of him in your apartment. The way he would always sit at the same place, the mug he always used -one you got rid of- or how his perfume would always stay for a day or two after he left. These were gone from your mind and you were glad that your life didn’t change after he went away.

Aaron being here could have revived this.

But it didn’t.

Seeing him here made you want to create new memories. With him. 

It started with him taking long steps to catch your wrist. “I’m not Sean.” a fact he needed to hear more than you. Thank god he wasn’t his brother. Otherwise he would never have come. “What did he do to you?” 

Anger. Passion. Eager. You could see all that in his eyes. You could feel it in his hand, how he was gripping your wrist but softly touching your skin with his fingertips. You could hear it in his breathless sighs. 

“Does it matter?” you whispered, close to his lips.

You didn’t know which one of you was leading this dance that couldn’t be seen but you soon felt the wall against your back and Aaron’s body against your chest. “Maybe we should focus on what I can do to you now.” 

Next thing you knew, Aaron's lips were on yours. Angrily kissing the memory of his brother on your mouth away. Passionately biting your lips to taste more of you. Eagerly taking your shirt off to discover your body. All his thoughts went silent with you around. All he wanted was to get more and more of you.

His hands felt exactly like you thought they would on your body: hot and firm. He was grabbing your hips, pressing his body harder against yours. Soon your legs were around his waist. You felt the tense in his arms being tighter holding you like this. But not like it was hard. Like he was living every single second of that moment with appetite. 

When his lips slid on your neck and your hands got lost in his hair, you knew you never wanted this moment to end.

Later, you would find it funny how Aaron found the way to your room without even looking. He was too concentrated on kissing every piece of skin he was unveiling to think about that. Yet, he had no problem walking through the corridor and laying you on your bed. He followed his gut and his gut was driven by his need to be inside you.

When Aaron started untying his tie, you stopped him by putting a hand on it, meticulously placing it on his heart.  “Let me do that.”  you said, your lips so close to his ear that you almost kissed it.

You always had a thing for undressing men. Especially men in suits. 

You took your time with his tie, letting it slide all along his neck in a soft way. You slowly did every button of his shirt, kissing his chest centimeter by centimeter. You lost it for a few seconds looking at the strand of hair running through his chest. This would be a new addition to your dreams, you knew that.

His belt fell on the floor, his pants made the best noise sliding through his legs. And there you were, both naked, and you in front of the man with whom you had the most insane fantasy.

Aaron took a moment to look at you. You were close to it, with him on top of you. You got lost in the beauty of his eyes while he was admiring you. “What does it mean?” you asked him, softly bringing a hand to his cheek in a moment of tenderness that you didn’t expect to happen. 

You saw the conflict in his head. Being torn between knowing he shouldn’t be there with you -because of his job, because of his brother, because of who he was as a man. And putting everything aside for once in his life. “I don’t know.” he replied, still leaning closer to you. 

“And I don’t care.” he added, finally letting his body explore yours entirely.  

You got lost in Aaron’s arms that night. Every minute felt better than the past one. Every kiss felt nicer than the post one.

And every moment, you let yourself fall for him harder.

You couldn’t say you had feelings for him already, except for the obvious attraction you both had for each other. 

But looking at Aaron, asleep in your sheets at 4 a.m. after making love to you multiple times, you thought that maybe. Maybe. You could let yourself be in love with a Hotchner brother again. 

“I see you,” you heard him say in his hoarse sleepy voice. You were a little to blame for it after making moan harder than you thought he even would.

You laughed a little which caused a sweet little smile on his lips.“With your eyes closed?”

“I can see you everywhere.” he replied, opening his sweet eyes. “Even when you’re not there. And I know you did too.”

“Are you a magician, Aaron Hotchner?” you asked with a fake surprise. Slowly, his hands guided you on his lap again. A place you never wanted to leave.

He never answered your question. Not now nor ever. He simply kissed your lips in the softest way, his arms tightening around you so you could lie on his chest.

An offer to discover that yourself, if you were willing too. 

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Paint Me Red

Synopsis: You and Damian like horror movies for the same reason.

Pairing: Dark!Damian Wayne X Dark!AFAB!Gn!Reader

Tw: 18+ pwp; Kinda gore?; Cannibalism kink? Definitely hinted; Biting link; Blood kink; Fingering; Watching straight porn; Torture porn? It's all fake and no one’s suffering; Pain kink maybe; They are freaks and they are in love; Worshipping?; A hint of love-bombing? I repeat, they're freaks and they're in love, your honor; Mention of hipersexuality; Damian enjoys pain, gore and death, despite not killing anymore, Reader likes it too; Reader has long hair and is implied to be wearing a shirt or dress with straps and bare thighs; English isn't my first language.

Word count: 1,2k

Requested? No.

Extra notes: Inspired by the movie May and everyone who yaps about yandere!Damian being cannibal coded. I also love when someone writes Damian a little psycho, a little sadomasochist. And a Damian who worships his S/O is the best Damian!!! I recommend reading this while listening to Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge. Not sure I like my writing here tho, especially the title, there were many good options that also seemed bad options

General masterlist

Damian was odd, you knew it from the start. Everyone who interacts with him knows it from the start.

That didn't stop you from being flustered when he confessed his — in his actual words — all consuming, undying love. You never thought anyone would actually use those words while declaring their feelings for someone, but as always with him, Damian was different.

And maybe you were different too.

You came back from your weekly date with him to the apartament you recently started sharing, despite being so young and having been dating for only a month when he asked. Your friends called it love-bombing. You had never heard of a more romantic term.

He took you to the bedroom as soon as you crossed the threshold, excited about a surprise he planned for you, but there was nothing different there, until he pulled his laptop out, fiddled with something, connected to the overhead projector you bought once on a whim, after watching a tiktok, only to realize it wasn't any better than just watching on your television or laptop. At least it wasn't as expensive as one would think.

Regardless, you still used it sometimes, even if for the sake of being spontaneous — and making your money worth it —, and your boyfriend was clearly looking for that.

You sat on the edge of the bed, and in less than a minute, Damian was sitting beside you, while a weird video started playing.

— I found it online, beloved. — Damian explained. — A short film, made by a group of independent artists, I think. — You nodded along, this level of cinephilia was not exactly your thing, but you did enjoy watching movies and leaving reviews on Letterboxd, if it caught Damian's interest, then it must be something.

— Yeah, very Texas Chainsaw Massacre. — You commented, not because it actually looked to be a horror movie, but more because of the quality of the camera, the eery atmosphere, and the scenario being filmed in the middle of nowhere. It seemed like an actually calm movie, but you knew something was up, there was only a young couple having a cute picnic.

Damian looked at you with wide, almost innocent eyes, boyish excitement coupled with some glint you couldn't identify.

— Exactly!

You felt some satisfaction and pride. You were the one who presented him with the classic slasher movies — one of your favorite genres — and were surprised by his eager acceptance of them, since a lot of them didn't have much quality. But he seemed interested in the death scenes and gore. Maybe it was the remnants of his childhood on him, but you didn't have that past and still related to him, much to his delight. He also commented about how unreal a lot of it was, from experience, no doubt.

It was almost cute. And hot.

Damian's hand laid on your thigh, while his thumb started rolling circles on your bare skin.

You let out a gasp when the girl in the movie, out of nowhere, bit hard on her boyfriend’s finger while he fed her a piece of pie with his hands. An exaggerated amount of blood started sliding down her lips and his hand, but he didn't scream, he just stared at her while she had mischief and desire in her eyes.

Damian's hand squeezed your flesh.

— How did you find this on YouTube? I'm pretty sure they wouldn't allow it there. — You wondered out loud, squeezing your thighs when the guy used his bloody hand to push the strap of her sundress down, revealing her supple breast. He leaned forward and peppered kisses down her chest, while pushing the other strap down, revealing her torso even more, until he bit her ribs’s flesh just as hard, face partially covered by her left tit.

Now, they were both smeared in lots of blood, from his hand travelling her body and the new wound.

— I did not mention YouTube. — He answered, and you hummed, paying extreme attention to the movie, intrigued, and half surprised to be turned on. But it was shallow, a thin layer of lust that went unnoticed by you, mistaken by intrigue and excitement.

You only noticed how hot you were, when Damian did the same thing to you. He slowly and deliberately got closer, pushed your hair back from your shoulder, and left wet, slow pecks down your neck, while pushing your straps down. You just stared at the images while he did his thing.

You were interrupted when he bit down on your shoulder, hard, leaving teeth marks, but not enough to bleed. You couldn't help the yelp of pain that escaped you by surprise, but didn't feel like reprimanding him when he soothed the feeling by still kissing you, and buried his hand between your legs, invading your underwear.

You opened your legs to give him more space, while your lips also parted to let out a deep breath, not out of nervousness, but anticipation. When you paid attention to the movie again, the guy was lying between the girl’s legs, leaving a nasty bite on her inner thigh. The blood dripped down and ruined her white underwear, but her boyfriend just started eating her out with the fabric still on the way.

Meanwhile, Damian played with your wet clit with his thumb while he inserted two fingers into your moist hole with ease, catching you both off guard with how wet you were with basically nothing. He had a hunch you would like his surprise, but not that much.

In need to let out some pent-up desire, he bit your flesh once more, this time above your breast. A low whimper of pain forced its way out of your throat. You looked down and noticed Damian's full-on boner.

You reached and pressed your hand against him, making him hiss and finally stop lapping at your skin, to look at you with desire. You kept eye-contact while rubbing him through his pants.

Damian pressed his lips to yours in haste, eager to taste your tongue while pumping his fingers faster and deeper against your walls, focused on abusing your sweet spot. The kiss was more sensual than ever, a dance which consisted in sharing heavy breaths, exchanged pecks, sucking lips and caressing tongues. While you both were like rabbits a third of the time, you being hipersexual and him being in love with you, the newfound shared taboo kink definitely turned things up a notch. And you expressed it by interrupting the kiss with a hard bite on his bottom lip.

Damian hissed like a cat until you let his lip go. When he glared at you, anyone would think he was livid like you just kicked his dog, but you knew him better than anyone. In fact, you were the only one to ever see him in the vulnerable side that came with intimacy, the only one he would ever want and trust to either lay beside his naked body, or willingly allow to leave a mark on his scarred flesh. Taste his muscles. Drink his blood.

He used his free hand to touch his lip, and found blood there. You licked your own, bright crimson and wet.

When he looked at you again, you wondered if you had finally ruined him for anyone else forever, and he made sure to paint both your faces red with a kiss, while he made you cum on his fingers.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

[girl-lostconnection]

Babes, I just need another dad joke from Ghost please 🥺 I'm a slut for them.

I can give you a few actually. One of these I used previously in Unsweetened lemonade, but I love it too much.

1.

“What came first — chicken or egg?”, Simon drops a question on you out of a sudden, when your fork is halfway up to your mouth. You hum in question, your brows furrowing. What’s up with philosophical moods out of nowhere? Since when he like these kinds of questions.

But Simon looks at you, practically vibrating with anticipation and you jerk your chin up in question and watch how his eyes crinkle with the force of his grin.

Oh, this can’t be good.

“The rooster did”, he announces, actually cackling when you smack his shoulder, blush creeping up your face. Fucking insufferable this man and his jokes are.

2.

The mission is taking longer than expected, rain pouring down like it wants to fucking drown you but the steady stream of information from Ghost in your comms makes it somehow tolerable.

Not the worst conditions you worked in, at least you found some semi-dry part of the roof to hole into while you wait with a sniper rifle, eye pressed to a scope.

“How do you call a medieval spy?”, Ghost suddenly asks and you can’t help the twitch to the corners of your lips. Fucking hell, here it comes.

“How?”, you murmur quietly, laying in the shadows and rubble, not moving an inch of your body while you wait for a target to arrive at the place.

“Sir Veillance”, he shares like it’s a good joke and now you never can tell him that it’s not because your shoulders visible shake with silent laughter as you press your eye harder to the scope. Can’t get distracted on the job no matter how fucking ridiculous it gets.

“Have one for you too, L.T.”, you say and you know he can hear that your voice is a little breathy after laughter. When he speaks again you can feel the force of his smirk, the smug bastard enjoys making you laugh a little too much.

“Give it to me, sergeant”

“Why Sir Veillance would wear only leather?”, you prompt and fall silent for a few moments, giving Simon time to think about the question. He hums after a beat, eyes still monitoring the surroundings

“Why?”, he finally asks you and maybe you understand why he has all these cheesy dad jokes. Gives a right little kick.

“Because it’s made of hide”, you announce and your voice is shaking with laughter, breaking into practically a whisper as you force it down. There is a silence over the comms and then a small hoarse crack — barely half a chuckle.

“Not bad”, Ghost finally says and you can hear smile in his voice, your own grin widening. “Now eyes on the spot, we have our target arriving at the place”

“Roger that, sir”, you murmur, pressing yourself lower and curling a finger around the trigger.

Soap will tell you later not to indulge lieutenant Riley and his one dry sense of humour but you come to find out that maybe, just maybe, it does work on you a little too well

[ateezscupid]

can you write smth with sub mingi and a curvy reader, and like he picks her up and she tenses and gets all awkward and insecure and he basically just reassures her?💕

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST mingi w/ body worship ♡

"I'm home-!" Mingi yelled, dropping his bag by the door. You came scurrying around the corner, holding your arms out with a cheeky smile.

"Min!" you squeal, throwing your arms around his neck. He laughs, returning the embrace before setting you down gently. "I missed youuu!"

"Aw, really? How much?" he chuckles, wrapping his arms around you and giving a playful squeeze. You pretend to think hard, your eyes squinting as if the answer is just out of reach.

"Well, let's see… a lot!" You giggle, feeling the warmth of his smile against your cheek.You pull away and tilt your head, pulling at his hoodie. "But you smell like garage."

"You love it." he chuckled, out of nowhere deciding to lift you up. You yelped, a bit -- surprised. He's never tried to lift you before, and the thought of him doing so always lingered in your mind but you never actually asked him to. You kind of assumed he wouldn't be able to because of your weight. But here you are, off the floor, your legs dangling as he swings you around in a circle.

"What-?" he noticed the hesitant look on your face. "Did I do something wrong?"

"N-No! It's just.." You gulp, trying to find the right words without sounding too overwhelmed. "It's just that… I didn't think you could lift me." A blush creeps up your cheeks as you admit your doubt.

Mingi's smile widens, a glint of pride in his eyes. "You're not that heavy," he says, spinning you around one more time before carefully setting you down.

"You don't have to lie. I know I'm heavy, I just -- you never tried to do it before and I didn't know what to do!"

"Well I thought you just didn't like being picked up," Mingi said, his eyes searching yours for a hint of truth. You couldn't help but laugh at his innocence, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

"Maybe I just didn't know how to ask," you confessed, playing with the strings of his hoodie. "But I've always wanted you to."

"And now I did and you're happy so I'm definitely going to do it again." He said, grinning. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he tickled your sides, making you squirm and giggle.

"You're adorable," Mingi says, his grin never faltering as he watches you try to regain your composure. He grabs your hand and pulls you towards the living room, his grip firm but gentle. You follow willingly, feeling lighter than you have in a while. The TV is on in the background, playing a show you both enjoy, but he quickly mutes it with the remote.

"I mean, I don't get why you're insecure. You're really fucking hot," Mingi says, his voice sincere as he sits you down on the couch. He plops down next to you, his hand resting on your thigh.

You roll your eyes, but the blush doesn't leave your cheeks. "Thanks, but you know it's not just about that," you murmur, looking down at your lap.

"I know but have you seen yourself? You're gorgeous," Mingi insists, gently lifting your chin with his finger so that your eyes meet his. His thumb brushes away a stray hair that's fallen across your forehead, the gesture surprisingly tender. "I mean, not to sound like a pervert, but I've had to stop myself from staring at you sometimes."

"Really-?" You whisper, your voice quivering slightly with disbelief. "So, what do you do when we have sex? Close your eyes?"

"Obviously not. But you see how I like you sitting on my face," Mingi teases, his voice dropping to a murmur. You slap his chest playfully, feeling a mix of embarrassment and pleasure at his words. The tension in the room shifts, the air thickening with something unspoken.

"What! Your thighs are so fucking soft. Imagine having them around your head," he says, his voice taking on a more serious tone. You laugh nervously, trying to break the tension that's starting to build between you.

"You're a freak." You giggle, trying to push him away, but his hand remains firm on your thigh. "But a charming one."

"And you loveeee it. I'd do whatever you ask. If you want me to pick you up, carry you, whatever the case may be - just ask. Please. I'd do it in a heartbeat." He leans closer, his warm breath brushing against your cheek. You can feel your heart racing, and your palms start to sweat.

"I'm-- okay, I just changed my underwear. Give me a break," you retort, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrays your excitement. Mingi laughs, his eyes never leaving yours, his hand still resting on your thigh.

"You're gonna have to change them again!" he jumps up, pulling you up and lifting you over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. You shriek with laughter as he starts to walk down the hallway, your body bouncing slightly with each step he takes.

[thottieonline]

PENN’S HOTTEST VIRGIN

LUIGI MANGIONE X VIRGIN! FEM READER

IN WHICH — Reader goes to her first Frat Party at Phi Kappa Psi, partying with Frat President Luigi Mangione.

WARNINGS — SMUT!! Porn with a Plot! Minors DNI!

CONTAINS — Loss of Virginity (Duh), Religious themes, PinV! Oral (Fem! Receiving), Praise! Blasphemy — we knew it was coming. Reader wears glasses (a bit self indulgent, lol)

NOTES — So. Much. Dirty. Talk. Luigi’s a little rough but we love it! Like this is just straight PORN I’m so sorry!! Anyways, this is my first smut on Tumblr, so excited to be here!

To Y/N, it seemed that it was a social norm to have had sexual experiences or have been in a relationship, especially by your second year in one of the biggest party schools in the country — So how was it possible someone as beautiful as Y/N could remain untouched?

She knew her male peers gawked at her and shamelessly spoke about her whenever she walked by, often hearing the things they wanted to do to her in passing, ultimately sending shivers down her spine.

She was innocent, not stupid.

Considering she came from a family devoted to their Catholic faith, they had tried their best to shield her from a life of “sin.” However, as she grew older, she started to question her religion.

Would I really go to hell for doing this? If I wasn’t meant to be doing this, why does it feel so good?

Those questions eventually lead her to make more impulsive decisions. After all, you’re only twenty in one of the biggest party schools once.

Ask for forgiveness, not permission — The voice of her roommate Blair spoke into her head. Blair being her voice of unreason, she encouraged her to be more wild, thus leading to them getting ready for a frat party at one a.m on a Tuesday.

“B, you still haven’t told me what frat we’re going to.” Y/N yelled over Blair’s loud music, Blair only sparing a glance at her and refocused on her hair. “We’re going to Kappa.”

Phi Kappa Psi was one of UPenn’s biggest frat houses, gaining a reputation for throwing the wildest parties on campus, competing with other frat houses on who could garner the most attention, in-campus and off-campus.

Other Fraternities pale in comparison to Phi Kappa as they miss one important element — Luigi Mangione.

Luigi Mangione managed to make a name for himself as a fourth year student, making a lasting impression on his fellow peers and professors. Being exceptionally gifted in Computer Science, Robotics, and Charisma — Mangione had the respect of everyone around him in the palm of his hand.

Mangione being five-foot-eleven, athletic and intelligent with unruly curly hair and a smile to die for — It was simple, really. Every man wanted to be him, while every girl prayed for the opportunity to be the next one he took to bed.

She was no exception — though she never voiced her desires out loud. Y/N often imagined his lips trailing down her neck, his lips creating a suction on her sensitive skin, sucking on her vanilla lotioned skin to the point of bruising.

God only knew how much she wanted to be marked up by him. Her virgin mind constantly thought about sex, but she couldn’t think about anyone else but him. No one else had her attention like he did and that was exactly how she liked it.

She only thought about Luigi fucking her to the point where she cried, her pussy being used and overfilled with his cum. She’d imagine him continuing to fuck her after she lost count of how many times she came, the glasses she normally wore on her face were nowhere to be found.

Y/N imagined Luigi calling her his perfect slut, praising her ability to take all of him like a champ.

“God it’s like this pussy was made for me. Tell me, how good do I fuck you, baby?”

“Such a good fucking slut for me, N/N.”

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby. Let me see you.”

Just the thought of him made her thighs clench together. Luigi was the only one she would ever let fuck raw. She needed to feel all of him, every inch and every vein of his Italian cock. She wanted Luigi to ruin her for other men, fucking her so good to the point all she can remember is his name.

It’d be even better for her to wake up to such a deliciously painful reminder of him when she’s hardly able to walk the next morning.

“Okay, I’m done.” Blair spoke, quickly snapping Y/N back to reality. She looked at her roommate, seeing she had finished getting ready for the night.

Since it was a frat party, Y/N and Blair were dressed in simple yet sexy outfits— Y/N opting for a black tank top, pairing them with denim shorts that were tight on her ass and her beat up sneakers.

She’d done her hair hours ago, opting to go straight, putting her trust onto the anti-humidity products she put in her hair to last all night.

“Bitch you look so good.” She smiled, Blair giving her a full 360 of her outfit. “Thank you, baby.” Blair smiled at her compliment.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to get fucked tonight, looking all sexy.” Blair teased, making Y/N roll her eyes, fighting back a smile.

“So what if I am?” She challenged, half-jokingly.

Blair squealed, “She’s finally coming out of her shell! Took almost two years but we’re here.” She quickly wrapped her arms around Y/N. “C’mon, let’s get you fucked up tonight!”

Before she knew it, Y/N had stepped foot onto Kappa grounds, already trashed with red solo cups and a couple of passed out partygoers on the front yard — It looked like a scene straight out of Project X.

Careful to not step on those passed out on the grass, Y/N and Blair made it to the front door, pathetically guarded by one of the seemingly drunk pledges. “Damn, looking good mamis.”

The two giggled at the slurred voice of the young man, “You two on the list?” He asked. Before Y/N could open her mouth, Blair already began talking to him.

“Not really, but I think you can make an exception for tonight?” Blair flirted, placing her manicured hand on his bicep, giving the young man false hope of something happening later on.

“Fuck,” He uttered under his breath. “Yeah, you two can come in. Enjoy, ladies.” He stepped out of the way, letting Y/N and Blair come through.

“You gotta teach me how to do that.” Y/N chuckled. “It was like you didn’t have to try at all.”

“Y/N, please, you can totally do that. You just overthink things too much. You didn’t see how he was looking at you at the door?” Blair chuckled. “Now, let’s get you some liquid courage — God knows how much you need it.”

With that, Blair took Y/N’s hand and led her to the dining room, where the infamous Kappa jungle juice was placed. Blair poured herself and Y/N a full cup — the combination of the sweet cranberry juice and the unforgiving strong scent of liquor nearly sent her to a drunken state.

Out of habit, she did a silent prayer before she downed her drink.

“Fuck, that’s strong.” She groaned to herself, the bitter taste of the liquor lingering on her tongue. Y/N pushed herself to drink more — It wouldn’t be a complete first frat party experience without getting shitfaced drunk.

Blair giggled at the sight, “I’ll be right back, N/N. Stay here, ‘Kay?”

“Mhm.” Y/N hummed, acknowledging her. She continued to drink, silently praying once more to get her through the unforgiving taste of the drink in her cup.

God, if you let me get through this, I promise you—

“Yeah, I’d say the prayer is totally necessary.” A deep voice spoke close to her, interrupting her moment with the man upstairs. Y/N turned her head to the side out of curiosity and there he stood less than a foot away — Luigi fucking Mangione smirking at her.

“Say, were you also raised catholic or was that for dramatics?” He teased, making her blush as she looked down at her feet before looking up at him again.

“Definitely both.” Y/N laughed, her free hand playing with her gold cross necklace that laid nicely on her chest.

Luigi’s gaze flickering from her eyes onto her necklace. He admired how the gold cross complimented her glistened skin. The last piece of Y/N’s devotion to God contrasting with the less-than-holy outfit she had on drove him insane.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” She spoke, the liquor giving her the courage to introduce herself — something she could’ve never imagined doing stone cold sober. The sound of her voice made him flicker his gaze from her chest onto her eyes, decorated with her signature frames.

He smirked to himself before telling her — “I know who you are, pretty. I’m just surprised to see you here, that’s all.” With that, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her body closer to his, her heart racing faster with just a simple touch.

“You do?” She questioned.

Mangione was two years above her and to the best of her knowledge, they didn’t have any classes together. It was a really big school, after all.

“You don’t know?” He asks, taking in how her eyes glimmered with curiosity as she shook her head. “You’ve seriously never seen the Penn Crush page on Facebook?”

“You know, I don’t really use Facebook like that — So, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.” She smiles, watching him pull out his phone to look up the infamous Penn Crushes page on his screen.

A few seconds pass by and there she was — Y/N L/N all in her glory. She scrolled through his screen, seeing the countless pictures taken of random students that deemed was submitted to the page — yet a lot of those pictures were of her.

There was one picture of her taken from afar where she sat on a random bench, presumably waiting for her next class, and there was another one that she recalled Blair taking a picture and uploaded on her Instagram story. It must’ve been screenshot and submitted as she saw the amount of likes on the post.

She continued to scroll until she saw one post where the caption immediately grabbed her attention —

Penn’s Hottest Virgin, Y/N L/N in a throwback post with the Penn Catholic Service Association. It’s great knowing she’s kept her promise! #virginityrocks

“Oh My God.” Y/N laughs at the post. She recalled joining PCSA when she first came to the school to have an outlet where she could be with others like herself.

She’d thought it’d be a good way to stay connected to her religion while forming new friendships, becoming a dedicated member of the association and getting involved with her community.

Y/N recalled the event from the post as she had to prepare a speech on why it was important to her to keep her promise to God to maintain her purity. At the time, she didn’t mind that people knew if she was a virgin — It was the whole point of the speech!

However, as time passed on and she had since left the association, it was definitely something that she wouldn’t have shared now, nearly two years later.

She read through the comments, barely processing the countless amounts of praise she received unbeknownst to her. “I didn’t think I was on anyone’s radar,” She joked, “Especially as the hottest virgin.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely a fan favorite.” He told her, not before he pulled her impossibly closer. “Have you kept your promise?” He teased, seeing the almost immediate effect he had on her.

She didn’t know if it was the combination of the crowded room they were in with the liquor or the fact that Mangione’s lips were on her ear, asking a question that sounded so innocent, yet so filthy.

The heat rising in her body was getting too much. Y/N felt his hazel eyes following her every move, from the way she subtly pushes up her glasses to the way she clenches her thighs together to relieve the ache in between her legs.

“Yes, sir.” She smiled at him, “But, I think I wanna break it.”

“You do?” He cooed, tucking her hair behind her ear. Luigi knew she wanted him as bad as he did, but he needed those words to come out of her mouth.

She bit her lip, holding back her words for the last time. “I want you to take my virginity.”

With that, he put down his cup on the remaining space on the counter, taking her hand in his and leading her up to his room.

The hallways were completely closed off. It was quiet, a complete one-eighty of the chaos that ensued everywhere else. Luigi unlocked his room, holding the door open for her as she entered what she would describe as the closest thing to heaven.

Y/N turned around to see him close the door and without hesitation, he pulled her by her waist and placed his soft, plump lips onto hers, starting her off slow and sensual — It was the perfect first kiss, she thought, but she knew the slow pace wasn’t going to be enough.

She wanted him so fucking bad, wanting to prove to him that she could take it like the good fucking girl she is. She’d been waiting for him all this time and she couldn’t let it go to waste. Y/N pulled him impossibly closer to her as she began to channel her insatiable desire for him, Mangione following suit.

His hands trailed from her waist and latched onto her hips, fueled by desire as he backed her onto his mattress, their bodies creating a soft thud on the bed. Never breaking the kiss, Luigi ground himself onto her denim shorts, making her moan into the kiss.

“Fuck, that feels so good.” She whimpered, breaking away from their kiss. He was orally fixated on her, his lips continuing their delicious assault on her sensitive skin.

“Gonna mark you up real nice, baby.” He uttered, eliciting a moan from her in response. “You like that, hm? You wanna be marked up by me?”

“So fucking bad.” He smirked at her confession, placing his lips back onto her neck and trailed down to her belly button. His strong hands roughly pulled down her denim shorts, Y/N’s body clad with her tank top and her soaked white thong.

The cool air in his bedroom didn’t help relieve the ache in between her thighs, needing him more than ever. “Bow on your panties? How cute.” He teased, pushing her panties to the side as he licked a bold stripe on her slit.

Her hips jolted at the newfound sensation, Mangione smiling at her reaction. His hands gripped onto her hips as he continued to use his tongue on her relentlessly, needing her to get himself drunk. Luigi couldn’t help himself but gather every last drop of her juices on his tongue, tasting her virginal pussy.

A string of sounds escaped her mouth as his tongue continued to work through her folds, circling his tongue around her clit before sucking on it. Her knees buckled at the suction of his lips.

“Fuck, L-Luigi.” She whimpered.

It was all happening so fast, her mind in a haze as Luigi held her up, throwing one of her legs over his shoulder as he continued to give his all, devouring her as if she was his last meal.

He had love for the game, so determined to make her first time worth it — wanting her to scream his name loud enough so everyone could know he was the first one to fuck Penn’s Hottest Virgin.

“Say it louder, baby. Need everyone to hear you.” He heaved, replacing his mouth with his long, skilled fingers.

She cried in pleasure as his two fingers stretched her out like no other, his digits pressing right up against that spot deep inside her that she could never reach on her own. Her glasses had slipped off her face, laid somewhere on his mattress.

It would’ve frustrated her to not be able to see, but with how good he’d been giving it to her, her eyes had stayed shut, the poor girl only being able to keep them open for only a few seconds until the next wave of pleasure.

“Put them back on for me, baby — Please.” He pleaded, loving how her glasses decorated her face. That was her signature, she’d never been without her glasses since the first time he saw her.

She reached out for her glasses, feeling the hard plastic beside her, putting them back on her beautiful face.

“Did so fucking good baby, listening to me.” He praises her, taking out his fingers and putting his mouth back on her needy pussy.

Y/N was so fucking close, her legs shaking around him as he devours until there’s nothing left — Luigi drinking up all her juices as they spread from her pussy to her thighs and undoubtedly his bedsheets.

Mangione had taken everything from her at that moment — her body, mind and voice. It was all too much, her needy hands reached into his bed of curls, gripping onto them as she buried him impossibly deeper between her thighs.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck Lui, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonn-” She cried out, tears running down her face as his name rolled off her tongue, his name being said so many times as if it were a prayer.

It was so sinful, so sexy, and he loved it.

“Cum on it, baby.” He urged, his tongue desperate for another taste. Luigi had been hooked from the first drop and had a craving for more. His tongue trailed from her hole onto the top of her folds, swallowing the remaining juices on her pussy.

“You taste so fucking good.” He praised, kissing her right inner thigh. Luigi could spend his entire life reliving this moment, worshipping her body.

Her body was in a near paralyzed state, the only signs of her liveliness was her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. Her glasses were now sitting at the tip of her nose, making her look so much sexier to him.

Luigi tried to fight back his infamous shit-eating smirk, but it was no use. He smiled proudly, showcasing the infamous fangs that everyone had been obsessed with, Y/N included.

Seeing those fangs reignited the fire in her body, needing to feel him again. Y/N lifted herself up and got on her fours, crawling to the edge of the bed where he remained kneeled.

There was nothing else on her mind but him. She wanted him to ruin her so fucking badly and so did he. His hazel eyes were clouded with lust as were hers. His dick was uncomfortably strained against his shorts, begging to be inside her virgin pussy.

Mangione leaned closer, his hands gently grab on to her face as he brings her closer to his face, closing the gap between them.

He held her face as their lips moved in sync, much hungrier than before, Y/N tasting the combination of the sweet jungle juice and herself on his tongue. Her hands trailed down his toned body, feeling his hard cock on the palm of her hand.

“Not sure if all of that is gonna fit inside me, Lui.” She joked, as she pulled away from the kiss, gently squeezing his bulge. It felt so fucking good under her hand, the feeling of how hard he was for her made her so much wetter.

“We’ll make it fit. I’ll make sure you’ll take all of it.” He promised, sealing it with a kiss. He pulled down his shorts, revealing how big he was — His tip glossed with precum. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long, N/N — wanted you in my bed since I first saw you.” He confesses, guiding his dick between her folds. His tip rested right at her pussy, inching in slowly as she winced in pain.

“Want me to stop, baby?” He coos, caressing her soft thigh.

She shook her head, “I-I can take it, Lui—S-Swear.”

Satisfied, he pushes himself in her even more. “God, you feel so fucking good — wanna fuck you so hard, but we gotta wait, right?” He teased.

“Fuck me, Lui.” She pleaded, pulling his face down so she could whisper into his ear, the hard plastic pressed against the shell of his ear — “I want you to fuck me until I can't walk straight."

With that, he pushed himself all the way inside, his dick harder than ever before. The burning sensation intensified, a small shriek erupting from her throat. “F-Fuck.” Y/N gasped.

The initial pain soon subsided as he continued to thrust, his hips connecting to hers — Luigi & Y/N becoming one. She cried with pleasure as Luigi’s pace intensified, making her tits’ jiggle out of the skimpy tank top, her eighteen karat gold chain smacking against her chest.

It felt so fucking wrong, yet so fucking right.

He wasn’t ever supposed to see her in that way — For fucks’ sake, he wasn’t even supposed to know who she was!

Mangione was her fantasy come to life. She loved the way he felt, his cock going in so deep inside her he could see an imprint of where he was. He couldn’t resist, taking her hand in his and placing it on her stomach.

“You feel that? I want you to remember it f-forever.” He groaned. Her cunt grasped him hard, holding him even tighter.

“Oh fuck! Y-You make me feel so fucking g-good, baby.” She whimpered.

“Yeah?” He mocked, grinding his hips deeper into hers, his pace slowing down a bit, making her feel every inch and vein of his. She clenched around him once more, Luigi groaning at the sudden tightness. He worked harder, hips snapping into hers as he picked up the pace once again.

Y/N loved how full he made her, the way he didn’t leave a single part of her body untouched.

“God, it’s like this pussy was made for me. Tell me, how good do I fuck you, baby?” He gripped on her hips, smiling at her fucked out expression.

“So,” It was all she could get out, her speech becoming more incoherent the closer she got. Y/N placed her manicured fingers on her clit rubbing her sensitive bud in circles, matching his pace.

Her body squirmed at the dual stimulation — It was all becoming too much. Y/N wanted this to last forever, never wanting to forget how his big dick felt inside her body, fucking her like the slut she knew she was.

“Luigi!” She screamed in pleasure, reaching her peak. Her walls pulsated around him like crazy, nearly sending Luigi into his climax. As much as he wanted to cum inside her, the thought of him cumming on her beautiful glasses sent him into overdrive.

God, he just loved her fucking glasses.

“Please baby, I just wanna cum on your glasses. Can I, baby?” He pleaded, pulling out of her. He took his needy cock in his strong hand, he inching closer to her frames.

He was so close, how could she deny him such a pleasure?

Y/N nodded, excitedly grabbing his dick from his hold and jerked him, aiming him closer to her frames. “Like this?” She asked sweetly as he shuddered around her touch.

His cum quickly shot out of him, landing on her glasses and coating her vision. “Just like that, sweetheart.” He assured her.

Luigi released himself from her touch, wanting to mark her up with his cum, aiming for below her stomach. He released a string of curses under his breath, chasing his much needed relief.

“Fuck, that was definitely the best sex I’ve ever had.” He breathed, feeling so fucked out as he laid next to Y/N’s body.

At that point, her hair had been messed up as the anti-humidity spray was no longer holding up as some texture had shown up, adding onto her “sexed out” look.

Even with her hair wild and free, she still managed to look so beautiful — Luigi couldn’t get enough.

She shook her head, playfully rolling her eyes at him. “Please, you’re just saying that.”

“I mean every word I say, Y/N. I’ve thought about you so much, it drove me insane — Do you know how hard it is to run a fraternity when there’s only one thing on your mind?” He ranted, now getting up from his spot on the bed.

She shook her head, knowing he couldn’t see her from his private bathroom. She was amused with the Italian. “Didn’t know it was so hard on you, Mr. President.”

“Very hard, actually.” He stated, returning with a damp cloth and wiping her body down. “Especially when she was known as the hottest virgin.” He joked, making her laugh.

Once she’s all wiped down, Luigi then uses his own personal glasses cleaning kit from his bedside drawer, spraying the liquid onto the stained glass, cleaning her frames with such care.

“You’re too much, Luigi.” She smiled, adoring the man beside her. “So detailed, too.”

“I’ll prove it everyday if I have to, Bellisima.” He professes, placing her frames back on her face with such care. “I’m not letting you go after everything you said to me.” Luigi pulls her in for another kiss, reassuring her he was there to stay.

[dreamlanderin]

You don't see me, Part 5 (Sam x reader)

Summary: You're in Green Hollow, Sam and Dean race to find you. Follows after part 4

Warnings: Swearing, blood, gore, horror, angst (Legit almost everything you can expect from a supernatural episode), spoilers if you squint?

Words: 10k (I got carried away)

You’d been following Bobby’s directions for hours, squinting at a hand-drawn map that seemed to make less sense the further you drove. The landmarks he’d mentioned—a crooked signpost, an old water tower—had been there, sure, but they looked… different. Faded, almost distorted, like you’d stepped into some parallel version of the real world.

Your phone was useless out here, the signal dead the moment you’d left the last highway. You’d tried restarting it, even waved it in the air in a desperate attempt to catch a bar, but nothing. Just static.

And then, after what felt like an eternity of wrong turns and second-guessing, you’d found it. The town. Green Hollow.

It didn’t look like much—a handful of buildings huddled together in the middle of nowhere, their facades weathered and crumbling like they’d been abandoned decades ago. But the lights were on in some of the windows, and you’d caught glimpses of movement behind curtains and doorframes. A general store, a diner, what might’ve been a post office—they were all there, clustered around a single stretch of road that barely qualified as Main Street.

At first, it had seemed… normal. Quiet, but normal. Until you stepped out of the bike.

That’s when you felt it. Eyes on you.

It wasn’t subtle, either. People weren’t sneaking glances from behind windows or casually looking up as they passed. No, they were staring. Full-on, unapologetic staring, like you were some kind of intruder who’d wandered where you didn’t belong. A woman sweeping the porch of the general store stopped mid-swipe, her hand frozen on the broom as her gaze locked onto you. A group of kids on bikes paused at the corner, their laughter dying as they turned in unison, their faces eerily blank. Even an old man sitting on a bench across the street was watching you, his eyes unblinking, his hands resting motionless on his cane.

You tried to shake it off, brushing past the unease with a shrug as you headed toward what looked like a diner. You’d figured maybe you could grab something to eat, ask a few questions, and figure out your next move. But when you pushed open the door, the bell jangling above your head, the low murmur of conversation inside died instantly.

Every head turned toward you. Every set of eyes.

You froze, the weight of their stares pressing against your skin like a physical thing. The room was small, just a handful of tables and booths, but it felt suffocating. The waitress behind the counter—young, with a crooked name tag that read Mary—stood frozen, the coffee pot in her hand hovering inches above a mug. The man she’d been serving, a burly guy in a flannel jacket, turned his head so slowly it was almost unnatural, his gaze pinning you in place.

You managed a tight smile, forcing your voice to stay steady. “Uh… is the kitchen still open?”

Mary didn’t answer. She just stared at you, her wide eyes flicking briefly to the other patrons before settling back on you.

“Okay,” you muttered under your breath, backing toward the door. “Guess not.”

No, just no. You left the diner without another word, the weight of their stares trailing you all the way to the sidewalk. The air outside felt colder now, heavier, and as you glanced back at the windows, you swore you saw the curtains twitch.

You tried the motel next, if you could even call it that. It was more of a rundown, single-story building with a flickering VACANCY sign hanging crooked above the office door. But when you stepped inside, the tiny reception desk was empty, the bell for service cracked and rusted. You’d called out, your voice echoing in the stillness, but no one came.

It wasn’t just the motel, either. The gas station was locked up, the lights inside dim. The general store had closed early, its door chained shut. Even the post office, which had looked abandoned at first glance, now seemed to hum faintly, like there was someone—or something—inside watching you.

You tried not to let it get to you, tried to tell yourself it was all in your head. Bobby had said there was just some strange weather or something you needed to check out, this didn’t feel like strange weather at all. Did he give you the right map?

 You’d gone back to your bike, luckily it was still there, a part of you thought it might be missing when you went back. It would have to do for now, maybe you should camp for the night? The headlights cast long, distorted shadows across the empty street, and in the rearview mirror, you thought you saw movement—a figure standing just beyond the edge of the light.

But when you turned to look, the street was empty.

By now the sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the town cloaked in an uneasy twilight. The streets were deserted, silent except for the faint creak of an old weather vane spinning lazily in the cool evening breeze. You’d pulled your motorbike up to the edge of the road, flicking the kickstand down and cutting the engine. The silence that followed felt too heavy, like it had been waiting to swallow the sound whole.

Unfolding the crumpled map Bobby had given you, you tried to make sense of the faded lines and scrawled notes. The directions had been straightforward enough when you set out, but now the roads seemed to twist and blur together, leading nowhere. Your headlamp cast just enough light to make out the words, but even they felt wrong somehow, like the map was deliberately trying to confuse you. You were hungry and tired, you wish you’d taken some snackss when you’d stopped by the gas station.

You tried your phone again but nothing.

You shifted your weight on the bike, exhaling sharply to ground yourself. It was fine. You’d figure it out. You always did.

But then you noticed them.

At first, it was just a flicker of movement in the corner of your eye—quick, darting, like shadows stretching in the fading light. You brushed it off as nothing, focusing instead on the map. But the flickers kept coming, and when you finally glanced up, you saw them. The children.

They were standing in the dim glow of a streetlamp a little ways down the road, half-hidden in the shadows. Two, no, three of them. Their faces were blank, pale, and still, with eyes that seemed to glint unnaturally in the low light. You recognized them immediately—the same kids you’d seen earlier when you’d first rolled into town. They’d been playing by the fountain in the square, laughing and running circles around each other. But now? Now they weren’t laughing. They weren’t moving at all.

They were just staring at you.

You looked back down at the map, trying to shake the uneasy feeling creeping up your spine. It was fine. They were just kids. Probably curious about the stranger in town. Kids were like that, weren’t they? Still, your fingers tightened around the edge of the paper, crumpling it slightly as you forced yourself to focus.

The sound of small, deliberate footsteps broke the silence.

Your head snapped up, and you realized they were closer now. Still not speaking, still not smiling—just standing there, watching. One of them, a girl with long, stringy hair that clung to her face, tilted her head slightly, the movement unnervingly slow. Her eyes caught yours, and for a split second, you felt frozen in place, like she was daring you to look away.

You cleared your throat, gripping the handlebars of your bike. “Can I help you?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.

No answer. Just silence, thick and oppressive.

This wasn’t right, you thought. Your hand itched against your thigh, next to you knife.

The boy next to her—a gangly kid with a too-thin frame and a face that looked too sharp in the dim light—took a step forward. Then another. His bare feet scuffed against the pavement, the sound too loud in the stillness.

You didn’t wait for them to get closer.

Stuffing the map back into your jacket, you swung your leg over the bike and fumbled with the ignition. The engine roared to life, a comforting burst of sound that cut through the quiet. You glanced back toward the children, expecting them to scatter at the noise.

But they didn’t move.

If anything, they seemed closer now, their figures outlined by the glow of the streetlamp. The girl’s lips curved into something that might have been a smile.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you revved the engine, trying to drown out the rising panic. You weren’t scared of a few kids. You’d faced worse, far worse. This was nothing. Just your nerves playing tricks on you. Right?

You shouldn't have come here. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that their eyes were following you, even as you turned the bike and sped off down the road. The town blurred around you in streaks of dark shapes and flickering lights, but you couldn’t bring yourself to slow down, not until the uneasy weight pressing on your chest began to ease.

But as you glanced in the mirror, your stomach dropped.

They were still there. And their eyes, they were black now.

Demons. Where the hell did Bobby send you?

You twisted the throttle, the bike roaring beneath you as the town faded behind in a blur of dark shapes and faint streetlights. The air felt heavier with each mile, like you were dragging it with you, and the memory of those children’s unblinking stares clung to your mind like smoke. You told yourself to shake it off, to focus on the road ahead, you needed to leave, and now.

The first time you noticed them, you thought it was just your nerves. A man in a dark coat, standing under the yellow haze of a streetlamp, his head turning to follow as you passed. Then another—a woman in a pale dress, sitting on the steps of a house with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her eyes locked onto you, they flashed black. Then another, and another. Figures standing in doorways, leaning out of windows, scattered across the streets like chess pieces on a board.

All of them were watching you.

Your chest tightened as you leaned into the bike, urging it faster, the engine growling as the wind whipped past your face. The cold bit at your cheeks, sharp and unforgiving, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the growing weight of their stares. They were everywhere now, appearing out of shadows and corners, their faces blank but their eyes piercing.

Your breath came faster, shallow and uneven, as you tried to push the bike harder, faster. The town blurred around you, the streets twisting and curling like the lines of Bobby’s map. You didn’t know where you were going—just away.

Then you saw her.

She was standing in the middle of the road, a small figure bathed in the pale glow of your headlamp. The white dress she wore was stark against the darkness, its hem brushing her bare ankles as the fabric swayed gently in the wind. Her hair, dark and loose, framed a face that was eerily calm, far too still for a child standing alone in the street at night.

You slammed the brakes, the tires screeching against the pavement as the bike skidded sideways. Your heart leapt into your throat as the handlebars jerked in your grip, and for one terrifying moment, you thought you’d lose control. The bike wobbled, then steadied, stopping just a few feet from where she stood.

The engine idled loudly, its growl the only sound breaking the eerie silence. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your hands gripping the handlebars so tightly your knuckles ached. The girl didn’t move. She just stood there, her arms hanging loosely at her sides, her head tilted slightly to one side as she watched you.

You cut the engine, the sudden quiet almost deafening. The faint hum of the wind picked up again, carrying with it the distant creak of something—maybe a swing set or a weathered sign—moving in the darkness.

She stood, there unphased.

“Hello,” she said, her voice soft and clear, like the chime of a bell.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as sandpaper. “Hey,” you managed, your voice rough and uncertain. “You… okay, kid?” You look at her, please be a kid.

She tilted her head further and gave a faint nod, her dark eyes glinting in the light of the bike. “I’ve been waiting, you know” she said simply.

“Waiting for what?” you asked, your pulse thundering in your ears.

She smiled then, small and faint, but it sent a chill crawling down your spine. “For you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and suddenly, the air felt colder. Heavier. You glanced around, your eyes darting to the shadows that lined the street, searching for… something. Someone. But the street was empty now, eerily so. The figures who’d been watching earlier were gone.

Just you and the girl.

Your hand instinctively moved toward the knife strapped to your thigh, your fingers brushing the hilt as your muscles tensed. “Who are you?” you asked, your voice sharper now, more demanding.

Her smile didn’t waver as her eyes flashed white.

“I’m Lilith”

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

It had taken Sam and Dean almost a full day just to figure out which road to take. They’d driven through the area where Green Hollow was supposed to be—at least twice—but the town itself was nowhere to be found. The map didn’t make sense, the roads didn’t match up, and every turn seemed to lead them back to the same stretch of empty highway.

“This is ridiculous,” Dean muttered, gripping the steering wheel with frustration as the Impala rumbled down yet another unmarked road. “It’s like the damn town doesn’t exist.”

Sam, slouched in the passenger seat with a map unfolded across his lap, ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh. “The map says it’s supposed to be right here,” he said, jabbing a finger at a point on the paper. “But it’s not. None of this lines up.”

Dean shot him a glare. “You think I don’t know that? We’ve been driving in circles for hours, Sam. Maybe Bobby gave us the wrong coordinates.”

Sam shook his head, his brow furrowed in thought. His knee bounced restlessly, his fingers gripping the edges of the map a little too tightly. “Bobby doesn’t make mistakes like that. If he says it’s here, it’s here. We’re just missing something.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, like a magic portal, maybe? ‘Cause I’m not seeing a single sign of this Green Hollow anywhere.”

Sam didn’t respond right away. His mind was a tangle of frustration and unease, not just from the endless backtracking but from the weight of the vial still tucked away in his duffel bag. He hadn’t touched it, not since he’d packed his bag back at the motel, but just knowing it was there was enough to keep his nerves frayed. He’d told himself it was just a precaution, but he knew better. The temptation was clawing at him, and the withdrawal only made it worse. His hands itched to fidget with something, but he forced them to stay steady, even as a cold sweat broke out at the back of his neck.

They’d eventually pulled off into a small, run-down gas station on the outskirts of a nearby town, the kind of place where time seemed to have stopped thirty years ago. The fluorescent lights flickered, and the old man behind the counter looked like he hadn’t seen a stranger in years.

“Green Hollow?” the man had repeated, squinting at them from behind the counter. “Why the hell would you wanna go there?”

Dean had leaned against the counter, his tone flat. “Long story. Can you tell us how to get there or not?”

The old man had given them a long, scrutinizing look before finally jerking his thumb toward the window. “You’ll need to take the dirt road about five miles west of here. Ain’t marked, but you’ll see it if you’re looking. Place is a mess of old trails and overgrowth, though, so good luck not getting lost.”

“Great,” Dean had muttered under his breath, already dreading the drive.

“You boys sure you wanna go poking around there?” the man had added, his voice lowering slightly. “Ain’t much left of Green Hollow. Place is washed up. Folks there don’t like strangers much.”

Sam had thanked the man and grabbed the directions, but the warning lingered in the back of his mind as they left the gas station and headed back to the Impala. Dean, of course, hadn’t cared. “Washed up or not,” he’d said, starting the car with a growl of the engine, “we’re finding this place.”

As they drove toward the dirt road, Sam leaned his head against the window, the vibration of the Impala’s engine doing little to calm the restless energy swirling inside him. His thoughts drifted—mostly to you. What was he even going to say when he saw you again? How could he explain himself, the mess he was in, and the way he’d let so much spiral out of control? Every time he thought about it, the words felt like sand slipping through his fingers.

Would you even want to hear him out? He wasn’t sure he’d deserve it, not after leaving things the way he had. But the thought of you out here, alone, in a place that didn’t even seem to want to be found—it made his chest tighten.

The dirt road wasn’t hard to spot once they knew where to look, but navigating it was another story. It was narrow, uneven, and riddled with potholes, winding through dense trees that seemed to swallow the light. The further they went, the more the air seemed to change—heavier, quieter, like the forest itself was holding its breath.

Dean had grumbled the whole way, swerving to avoid a particularly deep rut in the road. “This better be worth it,” he’d said, gripping the wheel tighter as the Impala jolted over another bump. “If we end up driving into some Deliverance situation, I’m blaming Bobby.”

Sam didn’t respond, his focus split between the map in his lap and the weight of his duffel bag at his feet. He hadn’t opened it, hadn’t even looked at it since they’d left, but the knowledge of what was inside felt like a lead weight. He’d brought the vial with him. He didn’t know why—it wasn’t like he planned on using it. But the thought of leaving it behind had felt like a risk he wasn’t ready to take. It wasn’t just the blood that haunted him, though. It was you.

His thoughts circled back to you, and he found himself gripping the map a little tighter. He couldn’t stop imagining the way your face might look when he showed up—surprised, maybe even angry. But there was also a small, selfish part of him that hoped you’d still look at him the way you used to, with that quiet trust that had always unnerved him a little because he wasn’t sure he’d ever deserved it.

Then they found it an old sign written in yellow: Green Hollow.

Dean slammed the car door shut, stepping out into the late afternoon sunlight, the Impala parked a little crooked near the curb of Green Hollow’s diner. The town, to both their surprise, had a pleasant hum to it. People walked casually along the sidewalks, chatting with neighbors or carrying groceries. A group of kids on bikes zipped past, laughing as they raced down the street.

“This doesn’t look like the kind of place someone vanishes into thin air,” Dean muttered, shielding his eyes against the sun as he scanned the square.

Sam climbed out more slowly, rolling his stiff shoulders. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice distant. The heavy bag slung over his shoulder seemed to weigh more than just his belongings. He could feel the glass vial inside, nestled among his clothes, and it gnawed at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

Dean gave him a sideways glance as they started toward the diner. “You good?”

Sam nodded too quickly, his hand brushing against the strap of his bag. “I’m fine.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, his frown deepening as his gaze dropped to Sam’s hand. It was trembling slightly, the motion faint but noticeable.

“You look like crap, man,” Dean said bluntly, stopping short of the diner steps.

Sam ignored him, brushing past with a muttered, “I said I’m fine.”

Dean didn’t push, though his jaw tightened. Dean’s gaze flicked toward the people milling about the square. “Alright,” he said, grabbing his jacket and opening the door. “Let’s ask around.”

They split up, keeping the square in sight as they started talking to locals. Most of the people they approached seemed friendly enough, offering polite smiles and vague answers about the town’s quiet charm. No one acted suspicious, and no one seemed particularly interested in two strangers asking questions.

Sam spoke with a woman near a flower shop, her apron dusted with dirt and her hands holding a small pot of marigolds. “I’m looking for someone,” he explained, showing her a picture of you that Bobby had dug up. “She might’ve passed through here recently.”

The woman squinted at the photo, then shook her head with a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry, hon. Can’t say I’ve seen her. But if she’s new, she might’ve stopped by the diner. Folks there know everyone who comes through.”

Sam nodded, thanking her before heading back toward the square to meet Dean.

Dean wasn’t having much luck either. He stood near a group of men loading lumber into the back of a pickup truck, arms crossed as he asked about you. The men glanced at the photo, shook their heads, and returned to their work without much interest.

“Nothing,” Dean muttered when they regrouped.

Eventually they headed to the diner. Inside, the place was all warm lighting and polished chrome, the scent of coffee and grease hanging in the air. A waitress with a kind smile greeted them and gestured to a booth near the window.

Dean slid into the seat first, his eyes already scanning the room for anything out of the ordinary. Sam took the other side, resting his elbows on the table as he tried to focus on the menu. His fingers tapped lightly against the laminated paper, his leg bouncing under the table.

What’s that smell? Something to Sam had smelled familiar, it made his head dizzy and his hands shake. It was all over this place.

“You want coffee?” Dean asked, his voice tinged with a note of something sharper—concern disguised as nonchalance.

“Sure,” Sam said, though he barely glanced up.

When the waitress returned with two cups of coffee and Dean’s order of pie, Sam reached for his cup, but his fingers faltered, the handle slipping slightly before he steadied it. Hot liquid sloshed near the rim, and Dean didn’t miss the way Sam’s hand trembled as he lifted the cup to his lips.

Dean’s frown deepened, but he didn’t comment, choosing instead to spear a piece of pie with his fork. “You think she’s here?” he asked after a moment, his tone casual.

Sam shrugged, his gaze fixed on the steam rising from his cup. “Probably,” he said. “I mean, Bobby said this was the last place she was headed. She might just be laying low—sleeping it off at one of the motels or something.”

Dean’s eyebrow arched. “Sleeping it off? She’s not exactly the ‘kick back and relax’ type.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam muttered, taking another shaky sip of his coffee. “Neither are we, but it happens.”

Dean didn’t argue, though the skeptical look on his face spoke volumes. He leaned back in his seat, watching as Sam stared down into his coffee like it might hold the answers he was looking for.

Sam’s thoughts, however, weren’t on the coffee or even the town around them. He kept picturing the look you might give him when you saw him again—angry, maybe hurt. And he deserved that, didn’t he?

He couldn’t stop the sarcastic thought that crept into his mind: Sorry I ignored you and didn’t call for weeks—my bad. How’s the hunting going?

The corner of his mouth twitched briefly at the ridiculousness of it. But beneath the sarcasm, there was a weight—a fear that whatever he said wouldn’t be enough to bridge the gap between them.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Dean said, breaking the silence.

Sam blinked, looking up. “What thing?”

“The thing where you overthink everything and don’t say squat,” Dean said, pointing his fork at him. “If you’ve got something on your mind, spill it.”

Sam shook his head, brushing it off. “It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean muttered, digging back into his pie. “And I’m the Tooth Fairy.”

They finished their meal and headed back to the Impala, deciding to drive around town to get a better sense of the place. The streets were starting to quiet as evening crept in, the earlier buzz of activity tapering off into the kind of calm that made Dean’s instincts prickle.

They saw it.

Dean slowed the car, his gaze locking onto a familiar shape propped awkwardly against the curb.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, throwing the car into park and jumping out.

Sam followed, his stomach sinking as they approached the bike. It was unmistakably one of Bobby’s—a sturdy machine with just enough wear to show its history.

“This is hers,” Dean said, crouching down to inspect it. “It’s one of Bobby’s. I fixed it up last time I was at the junkyard.”

Sam knelt beside him, his fingers brushing the handlebars. The grease stains were still there, faint but unmistakable.

“Why is her stuff still here?” Dean noted your duffle bag was still attached and looked up, thinking maybe you were close by and that he’d spot you comping up the sidewalk.

“Dean” Sam looked at him pointedly, Dean frowns but notices what Sam was hinting at,

Dean’s hand brushed against the handlebar, and his eyes caught on a streak of something dark near the base of the grip. His fingers hovered over it before he rubbed at it gently, then brought his hand closer to his face.

“Is that…?” Dean’s voice trailed off, his jaw tightening as he recognized the faint but undeniable smear of blood.

Sam stiffened, his chest tightening. “It’s fresh,” he said quietly, his hand gripping the strap of his bag like it might anchor him.

Dean glanced around the street, his gaze sharp. “Alright, now I’m officially not liking this”

“Don’t look at them, act normal” Sam whispered “It’s impossible for nobody to have seen her, either there is something wrong with this town, or there is something wrong with them”

Dean’s jaw tightened as he glanced at Sam, his grip on the wheel still firm. “And what exactly do you mean by ‘something wrong with them’?” he asked, his voice low but edged with unease.

Sam shifted, keeping his voice steady despite the jitteriness clawing at his insides. “I mean, they’re too normal. It’s like they’re trying too hard not to notice us—or the bike.” He gestured subtly toward the people walking down the street, all of them going about their business as though nothing was out of the ordinary. Not one of them had so much as glanced in the direction of the bike, even though it was left awkwardly propped on the sidewalk.

Dean’s eyes flicked back to the street. The people moved in a rhythm that felt… off. Perfectly timed, like they were part of some eerie choreographed routine. A woman pushing a stroller stopped at the exact same moment a man adjusted his tie, as if they were mirroring each other. A group of kids laughed too loudly as they walked past, their laughter abrupt and out of sync, cutting off too quickly.

Dean muttered under his breath, “Yeah, no, that’s not creepy at all.”

Sam leaned closer, lowering his voice even further. “Don’t stare. Just… keep it casual.”

Dean shot him a sidelong glance, one brow arched. “We’re driving a classic car through the middle of a washed-up ghost town. Casual isn’t exactly in the cards.”

Sam’s hand twitched, and he clenched it into a fist to steady the tremor. His palms felt clammy, and he rubbed them against his jeans as he tried to focus. “Look, all I’m saying is we don’t know what we’re walking into. This place isn’t right, and if they’re not going to give us anything willingly, we’ll have to figure it out another way.”

Dean sighed, his knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip on the wheel. “Great. So, what’s the plan, genius?”

Sam didn’t answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the street ahead, his mind racing through the possibilities. “We start with the motel,” he said finally. “If she’s not there, we’ll ask around—but carefully. If they’re hiding something, we don’t want to tip them off.”

Dean nodded, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “Fine. But if one of these Stepford rejects tries anything, I’m not playing nice.”

Sam almost smiled at that, but the weight of the situation kept his expression grim. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Sam’s gaze lingered on the bike. The faint smear of blood and the ignition still on gnawed at him. You had to be somewhere close. He just hoped they weren’t already too late. Please be okay, please, please

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

The cold, hard floor beneath you was a poor substitute for shelter, but it was the best you could manage under the circumstances. You didn’t know how long you’d been here—probably just a few hours—but it felt like an eternity. The first rays of sunlight began creeping through the grime-covered windows, casting faint streaks of pale gold across the room. It was almost comforting, but not enough to banish the dread clawing at your chest.

Your body ached in ways you hadn’t thought possible. You shifted slightly, wincing as a sharp pain shot through your side. You pressed your hand against the source—a gash just above your hip. It wasn’t deep enough to be fatal, but it was bleeding more than you liked, the steady trickle soaking through the makeshift bandage you’d tied around it. Your left arm wasn’t much better; a long scrape ran from your elbow to your wrist, raw and throbbing. Nothing life-threatening, but enough to make every movement a struggle.

Your thoughts replayed the chaos from hours earlier, every detail burned into your mind. When Lilith had finally revealed herself, you’d bolted, your instincts screaming at you to run. You’d leapt onto your bike, the engine roaring to life as you sped away. But the moment you turned out of the main street, you realized you weren’t alone. The townspeople—those same eerily vacant faces that had stared at you when you arrived—had started to chase you.

They came out of nowhere, spilling onto the streets like a wave, their footsteps pounding against the asphalt as they gained on you. You had pushed the bike as fast as it would go, weaving between narrow streets and tight corners, but they were relentless. One of them—a man with hollow eyes and dirt-streaked clothes—had managed to grab at your arm as you turned a corner. His grip was iron-strong, his nails clawing into your skin as he nearly dragged you off the bike. The memory of his face—too close, too wrong—sent a shiver down your spine.

In a panic, you’d reached for the knife strapped to your thigh, slashing at him with wild desperation. The blade cut deep, and he stumbled back with a guttural sound that didn’t quite seem human. Blood had splattered onto your arm, hot and sticky, but you didn’t dare look back. You’d gunned the throttle, the engine screaming as you tore down the road, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. You didn’t even notice you were hurt

But the bike was loud, and it drew attention. You could hear them behind you, their shouts echoing in the night, growing louder with every turn. You knew you couldn’t outrun them forever—not on the bike. It was too conspicuous, too easy to track. You needed to disappear. So, when you spotted the outline of the old school in the distance, you made your choice.

You’d parked the bike.. The engine clicked softly as it cooled, but you didn’t wait around. You grabbed your bag, slipped the knife back into its sheath, and ran, your boots crunching against the gravel as you darted toward the schoolyard. The building loomed ahead, its dark windows staring back at you like empty eyes. It was large enough to hide in, with plenty of rooms to keep you out of sight. You hadn’t seen anyone else as you crept inside, but you hadn’t taken any chances.

Now, in the relative stillness of the classroom you’d chosen, you took stock of what little you had. The desks and chairs scattered around the room had been pushed to one side to make space for your rudimentary fortifications. On such short notice, you’d done what you could to ward off any demons that might come sniffing around.

A quick search of the school had turned up a few supplies: an old box of chalk, a rusty pair of scissors, and some forgotten cleaning supplies tucked away in a janitor’s closet. It wasn’t much, but you’d made it work. Using the chalk, you’d drawn a devil’s trap on the floor just inside the door, ensuring that any demon who stepped into the room would be instantly immobilized. The scissors weren’t exactly iron, but they’d do in a pinch as a makeshift weapon if you had to fight your way out.

You’d also found a bottle of salt in one of the abandoned classrooms—probably left behind by a teacher who’d used it for a science experiment. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to line the windowsills and the threshold of the door. It wouldn’t hold up forever, especially if Lilith decided to come after you herself, but it was better than nothing.

The faint sound of footsteps outside the building sent a chill down your spine. You froze, your hand instinctively going to the scissors you’d tucked into your waistband. They weren’t close—yet—but you could hear them, the steady crunch of gravel underfoot and the occasional murmur of low voices. The townspeople. Or… whatever they were. You’d heard them last night, too, their footsteps echoing through the schoolyard as they searched for you. They’d come so close to the building that you’d barely dared to breathe, afraid they’d hear you.

The faint light of dawn creeping through the window offered little solace. You didn’t know if it was enough to keep Lilith at bay. If she wanted you badly enough, the salt wouldn’t matter. But for now, you had to hope that your makeshift defenses would hold. You pulled the scissors from your waistband, gripping them tightly as you pressed your back against the wall, listening to the sounds outside. You were going to die here, you thought. And Bobby, Oh Bobby would blame himself.

What about Sam and Dean? You hadn’t even said goodbye to them. The thought twisted in your chest like a knife, sharp and cruel. And now, here you were—hurt, bleeding, hiding in an abandoned school—about to die because you’d been too damn stubborn, too caught up in proving yourself.

No. You shook your head sharply, banishing the thought before it could take root.

I am not going to die here.

You took a shaky breath, pressing your palm harder against the wound on your side as if the pressure alone could hold you together. I will live. I’ll see Bobby again and hug him so hard he’ll call me an idjit. I’ll laugh at Dean’s stupid jokes again, and when I see Sam, I…

Your thoughts faltered. What would you do? What would you even say?

The memory of his face surfaced—those warm, haunted eyes that always seemed to carry the weight of the world. Would he even care? Would he even look at you the same way? You didn’t know. But there was no time to dwell on that now.

Movement caught your eye. You pressed your back flush against the cold wall, your breathing shallow as you stared at the stained glass window across the room. Shadows moved on the other side, their distorted silhouettes flickering against the colorful panes. They were there.

The tapping started—a slow, deliberate sound that sent shivers down your spine. Fingernails, or maybe claws, scratching at the glass, testing it. They were looking for a way in.

Your grip tightened around the scissors in your hand, the dull metal pressing against your palm. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had. Your gaze darted to the devil’s trap on the floor, the salt lines around the windows and door. You’d done everything you could to fortify this room, but was it enough?

The tapping grew louder, more insistent. Then came the whispers—low, guttural murmurs that didn’t sound quite human. They were speaking, but the words didn’t make sense, like a language that didn’t belong in this world.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound deafening in the otherwise silent room. You forced yourself to stay still, to stay quiet, even as every instinct screamed at you to run.

But where would you go?

The shadows grew darker, the tapping more frantic. Then, suddenly, the whispers stopped. The silence was worse. It stretched on, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on you like a weight you couldn’t escape.

And then, a voice—soft, childish, and chilling.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Your blood turned to ice. You knew that voice. It was hers.

Lilith.

You gripped the scissors tighter, your breath catching in your throat. The tapping resumed, but now it was coming from multiple windows, surrounding you.

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to focus. You weren’t going to panic. Not now. You had to think. There’s always a way out. Always.

Your eyes darted around the room, searching for something, anything you could use. The door was barricaded, but if they broke the windows, you wouldn’t have much time. The second they got in, it was over.

What would Bobby do? What would Sam and Dean do?

What would you do?

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. If this was the end, you weren’t going down without a fight.

You stared at the flickering shadows, your mind racing. Panic clawed at the edges of your thoughts, but you shoved it back, locking it behind a wall of sheer determination. Think. Think. Running wasn’t an option—not yet. They’d catch you before you even reached the hallway. You needed a plan. A distraction.

Your gaze swept over the room, cataloging every detail, every possible tool. The barricaded door. The salt lines. The devil’s trap scrawled on the floor. The scavenged supplies—a few candles, some chalk, and a rusty old fire extinguisher. An air vent. It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough. Your eyes landed on the ancient metal trash can in the corner, and an idea began to take shape—reckless and desperate, but it might just work.

Crouching low to stay out of sight, you moved quickly and quietly. The fire extinguisher was the first thing you grabbed, dragging it to the trash can. You shrugged out of your jacket, wincing as the movement pulled at the wound on your arm, and stuffed it inside. Matches from a supply closet went next, the flame sparking to life in your shaking fingers before catching on the fabric. Smoke began curling upward, thick and acrid.

Grabbing a piece of cardboard to control the airflow, you moved to the windows, dumping salt along the ledges and whispering a hurried exorcism ritual you’d memorized from Bobby. Would it be enough to hold? Probably not, but it was all you had.

The smoke was spreading now, seeping out through the cracks around the windows and door. It wouldn’t drive the demons off, but it might obscure their vision enough for you to get away.

Then your eyes flicked to the ceiling—a rusted air vent, partially concealed by a row of cabinets. Your heart thudded. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a way out.

The tapping at the windows grew louder. A voice followed, soft and singsong, with an edge that made your blood run cold.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Lilith’s voice cooed, childlike and cruel. She was in the hallway.

You didn’t look at the windows. You didn’t have time. Moving quickly, you dragged a desk beneath the vent, ignoring the searing pain in your arm. You hauled yourself up, biting back a gasp as the motion jarred your wound, and wrenched the vent cover loose with fire extinguisher, breaking off the screws. It screeched as it gave way, and you froze, the sound cutting through the room like a siren.

Outside, the tapping stopped.

You moved faster, shoving the cover aside and scrambling into the vent. The narrow space closed around you, dark and stifling. Sweat trickled down your back as you pulled the cover into place behind you, muffling the sound as best you could.

The fire below crackled, smoke filling the room. You could hear the demons outside, their muffled voices rising in confusion. Then, with a crash, the window shattered. You heard them pour inside, heavy footsteps as they tried stomping over the salt line.

The vent was tight, your movements slow and awkward. Every shift of your body sent a metallic groan reverberating through the duct, but you kept going, forcing yourself to crawl forward. The smoke was creeping up, the acrid smell stinging your eyes and throat.

From your cramped hiding spot, you could hear them fill that room, it echoed down the metal tube. “Do you like nursery rhymes?” she said, her voice echoing in the silence.

"I think I'll sing you one"

You held your breath, the weight of her presence pressing against your chest like a physical force. The fire crackled louder, and you could hear the scrape of furniture being moved, the demons tearing apart the room in search of you.

And then, silence.

You didn’t dare move. Every muscle in your body was coiled tight, your breath coming in shallow, quiet gasps.

When she spoke again, her voice was softer, almost sweet. And she didn't speak, really, she hummed something.

You heard the scrape of her shoes against the floor, the sound growing fainter as she moved away. The demons’ voices followed, their footsteps retreating into the hallway. The smoke had done its job, disorienting them just enough to mask your escape.

You waited, counting the seconds in your head. Five. Ten. Fifteen. The air in the vent was stifling, your lungs burning with the effort of staying silent, the smoke had now entered the vent, making it hard to breath or see.

Finally, when the only sound was the distant hum of the fire below, you started moving again. Your fingers scraped against the metal, your breaths shallow as you crawled toward the faint light spilling through a vent cover ahead.

When you reached it, you pressed your face to the slats, peering out into the darkness. You took a breath; The hallway was empty. Quiet. But you knew better than to trust it.

You pushed the cover loose, sliding it aside as carefully as you could, and dropped down into the shadows. The school was a labyrinth, the hallways twisting and turning in a way that made it impossible to orient yourself.

But you had to keep moving.

You slipped into the darkness, your steps silent, your breathing steady. You didn’t know where you were going, but one thought kept you moving forward: You weren’t going to die here

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

As they turned the corner, the faint tendrils of smoke curling into the sky caught Sam’s attention first. He stopped mid-stride, his brow furrowing. “Dean,” he said, pointing toward the plume. It was coming from the direction of the old school.

Dean’s head whipped around, his eyes narrowing as he followed Sam’s gesture. “That’s not good,” he muttered, already picking up the pace toward the smoke.

Sam jogged after him, his heart pounding. His mind was racing with possibilities. What if it was you? What if you were in there? The smoke wasn’t thick enough for a full-blown fire—yet—but it was enough to make his chest tighten with dread. And then he caught something else. A faint, sickly-sweet scent that made his stomach churn.

He slowed for half a second, his brow furrowing as the scent grew stronger. It was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. He’d smelled it earlier in the town, faint and fleeting, but now it was unmistakable. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut: demon blood.

His stomach twisted, the craving clawing its way up his throat before he could shove it back down. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus on the smoke ahead instead of the nauseating pull of temptation.

As they approached the edge of the schoolyard, a figure stepped out from behind one of the houses. It was one of the older women they’d seen earlier, her neat apron and floral dress a sharp contrast to the chaos hinted at by the smoke. She waved at them, her smile bright and disarming.

“Well, hello there,” she called, her tone syrupy sweet. “You boys lost? It’s not safe to go near that old school. There's a small fire”

Dean slowed, his hand instinctively reaching for the pistol tucked into his jacket. “Thanks for the warning, ma’am,” he said, his voice clipped, but he didn’t stop walking.

“Oh, no, no, no.” The woman’s voice turned sharper, her steps quickening to block their path. “I insist. You really shouldn’t be here.” Her smile widened unnaturally, her eyes almost too bright.

Dean stopped dead, his jaw tightening as he glanced at Sam, whose face was pale, his sweat-soaked shirt sticking to his back. Dean frowned, noticing the slight tremor in Sam’s hand as he rubbed the back of his neck. The sweat, the shaking—it wasn’t just the heat or exhaustion.

Sam didn’t meet his brother’s gaze, his hand tightening on the strap of his bag as the scent hit him again, sharper this time. Demon blood. It was clinging to the woman, faint but present, like she’d bathed in it. His stomach churned again, and he forced himself to swallow the rising nausea.

Before Dean could speak, the woman’s smile faltered, and her expression twisted into something darker. Her head tilted slightly, her teeth flashing in a grin that was far too wide.

Sam tensed, his hand going for the knife tucked into his belt.

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere, boys,” she said, her voice dropping an octave, the saccharine sweetness replaced by a low, menacing tone. And then her eyes turned black.

“Demon!” Dean growled, pulling his gun in a flash. The woman lunged, unnaturally fast, her fingers clawing at him. Dean fired a salt round straight into her chest, sending her stumbling back with a shriek.

Sam rushed forward, grabbing her arm before she could recover, and slammed her into the side of a tree. He whipped out a flask of holy water, splashing it across her face. Smoke hissed and rose as she screamed, writhing against his grip.

“Where is she?” Sam snarled, his voice ragged and trembling. “Where’s the girl?”

The demon just laughed, the sound guttural and mocking. “What girl?” she hissed, her black eyes narrowing. “We have so many here”

Dean strode up, his blade gleaming in the sunlight as he pressed it to her throat. ““Speak, Grandma—use your words. Or I'm going about to go full Bundy on your ass"

But before they could get another word out of her, the demon’s eyes rolled back, and her body slumped, lifeless.

“Damn it!” Dean hissed, shoving the corpse aside. “This place is crawling with them.”

Sam wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, his fingers still trembling as he shoved the flask back into his pocket. That scent was still lingering in the air, faint but pervasive, making his skin crawl.

“We need to get to that school. Now,” he said, his voice tight.

Dean didn’t argue. They took off running toward the smoke, weaving between the rows of dilapidated houses and across the overgrown schoolyard. The closer they got, the thicker the smoke became, its acrid scent stinging their noses. Sam could barely focus on anything other than the pounding in his chest and the way the demon blood seemed to hang in the air, taunting him.

The school loomed ahead, its windows shattered and its exterior weathered with age. Smoke curled out from one of the lower floors, the faint flicker of firelight visible through the broken glass.

Dean’s grip on his gun tightened as they approached the door. “Alright, Sammy. Let’s find her and get the hell out of here.”

A horde of black eyes were headed their way.

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

The fluorescent lights above flickered erratically, casting long, jittering shadows across the hallway walls. Your breathing was ragged, every inhale dragging through the sharp pain in your chest. Blood seeped through your shirt, leaving a dark trail on the scuffed tile floor behind you—a trail you knew she could follow.

Lilith’s voice echoed softly down the corridor, calm and melodic, chilling in its childish cheer. She was humming a tune, something eerily familiar but twisted, like a nursery rhyme gone wrong. Her footsteps were slow and deliberate, the sharp click of her shoes on the tile sending shivers down your spine.

You glanced over your shoulder, but the hallway stretched empty behind you, the hum growing louder, closer. Your legs felt like lead, every step a struggle, but you pushed forward, turning down another corridor, your hands brushing against the cold, peeling walls as you stumbled. You'd been bleeding, a lot.

The school was a maze. Every hallway looked the same—endless doors, broken lockers, and darkness that seemed to creep in from the edges. You couldn’t find the exit. All of the rooms were locked, Panic clawed at your throat, but you forced it down, focusing on the sound of your boots against the floor.

“Are you tired yet?” Lilith’s voice rang out, echoing in the empty space. She sounded almost amused, like a child playing hide-and-seek. Ring a ring a Rosie She began so sing again, sweetly.

You didn’t answer, biting back the scream that threatened to rise. Your hands were slick with blood, your vision blurred from exhaustion. You turned another corner, and that’s when you saw it: the door to the swimming pool. It's open.

You pushed it open with what little strength you had left, stumbling into the vast, cavernous room. The air was damp and heavy, carrying the faint scent of mildew. The pool itself was massive, its tiled depths empty and cracked, while a towering wall of glass stood on one side of the room, stretching from floor to ceiling. Through it, you could see the schoolyard outside, the faint glow of streetlights filtering in.

Your gaze darted around the space, searching for something—anything—that could help you. But the room was barren save for a few scattered chairs and broken tiles.

You needed time.

Ashes, ashes. They all fall down

Behind you, the door creaked open, and Lilith’s silhouette appeared in the frame. Her pristine white dress swayed as she stepped inside, her shoes padding softly against the tiled floor.

“Hide and seek,” she said brightly, clapping her hands together. “That’s what we’re playing, right? I’m really good at it, you know.”

You staggered back, your grip tightening around a chair you’d grabbed earlier. Your knees buckled slightly, the blood loss making your head swim, but you refused to let yourself fall. Not yet.

Lilith tilted her head, her expression innocent but her eyes glinting with something dark and monstrous. “But you’re not playing fair,” she said, her voice dipping into a childish whine. “You keep running away. Don’t you want to have fun with me?”

She took another step forward, her smile widening. “I promise, it won’t hurt for long. Just a little bit. And then we can be best friends forever!”

Your heart hammered in your chest as you backed toward the pool, your gaze flicking to the glass wall. Maybe—just maybe—you could break it and get outside.

“Stay back!” you warned, your voice hoarse, as you lifted the chair, holding it between you and her.

Lilith’s giggle echoed through the room, sweet and sinister. “Oh, look at you” she cooed, her tone dripping with mock affection.

You turned and hurled the chair at the glass with every ounce of strength you had left. The impact sent a dull thud reverberating through the room, but the glass didn’t even crack. Desperation clawed at you as you grabbed another piece of debris and swung it at the glass, again and again, each strike more frantic than the last.

Nothing. Not even a scratch.

“Uh-oh,” Lilith teased, her voice sing-song as she stepped closer.

You turned back to face her, your chest heaving, your vision growing hazier by the second. The world seemed to tilt, the edges of the room blurring as exhaustion and blood loss dragged you down.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus-" You chant. Your back pressed against the glass, gripping the edge of a railing for balance as your legs threatened to give out.

Lilith stopped at the edge of the pool, Laughing. “You’re not looking so good,” she said, her tone dripping with false concern. “Maybe you should lie down”

"omnis legio, omnis congregatio et-" It's not working.

Your fingers fumbled at your belt, pulling out the scissors you had. You didn’t have the strength for much, but you weren’t going to make this easy for her. If this was your last stand, then so be it.

"Ergo, draco maledicte, ecclesiam-"

A gunshot rang in your ears. And that’s when your eyes caught movement at the window. You frown, maybe your blood loss had finally reached the level of hallucinations.

Sam. Dean?

Outside the glass, through the harsh fluorescent glare, Sam and Dean were there. They were fighting—tearing through a horde of demons with a ferocity you’d never seen before. Dean’s movements were sharp and efficient, his blade flashing in the dim light as he fought with all the reckless determination you knew so well.

But it was Sam who stopped you cold.

He was covered in blood—too much blood. You couldn’t tell how much of it was his or theirs. His face was twisted with something raw and desperate, his swings more brutal, more ruthless than you’d ever seen. He fought like a man possessed.

And then his eyes locked on yours. You couldn't help the beat of relief inside you.

The noise and chaos around you faded for a moment, drowned out by the pounding of your own heart as you stared at each other. His lips moved, shouting something, but the sound didn’t reach you through the thick pane of glass. His face twisted with frustration as he slammed his fists against the unyielding surface, trying to break through, trying to reach you.

They can't get to you.

You hand grips your makeshift weapon tighter as you heard her shoes come to a halt. You didn't look at her, only them.

You let out a soft, defeated smile, the kind that said, It's okay without words. You didn’t have the strength to shout back, didn’t have the breath to explain or reassure him. All you could do was stand there, bleeding and tired, and hope he’d understand.

Lilith tilted her head, noticing your gaze and following it to the scene outside. Her face lit up with delight, her hands clasping together like she’d been given a gift. “Oh, how sweet,” she cooed. “We have an audience.”

She stepped closer, her shoes making clicking sounds against the tile as she approached. The sound of Sam and Dean’s shouts grew louder as they slammed against the glass, desperate to break through.

You heard the creak of Bobby’s porch swing, the faint clink of his glass bottle resting on the rail, the wood groaning softly under his weight.

You could see Dean hacking at the surface with his blade, his jaw tight with frustration. Sam was yelling something, his voice hoarse and frantic, but the words were lost to you.

You smelled the faintest hint of old paper and ink, Sam’s hand resting on a dusty lore book between you. The bitter taste of coffee lingered in your throat.

The lights above you started to flicker, you could feel the heat of her presence, the suffocating weight of her power pressing down on you as she reached out, her hand stopping just shy of your face.

You felt the weight of Dean’s jacket draped over your shoulders, heavy and warm against the night’s chill. His hand had lingered for just a moment after settling it around you..

“Thank you for this” Lilith murmured, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You don't know how helpful you've been”

The glass behind you shook violently, the sound of impact reverberating through the room as Sam and Dean threw everything, they had at it. You glanced over your shoulder, your vision blurring, and saw Sam scream something, his face contorted with anguish as he pounded against the glass. You were so tired. Your grip slackened on the scissors as you started to slide down the wall. You were to weak.

You felt the sting of warmth on your cheeks, sunlight filtering through Bobby’s kitchen window as he handed you a plate of pancakes. “Eat up,” he’d grumbled, though his voice held that familiar undercurrent of care.

And then, in a flash of blinding white light, the room shifted.

You saw the soft glow of the Impala’s headlights cutting through the dark as it pulled into Bobby’s yard, Sam and Dean leaning against the hood, their laughter quiet but warm, a sound that felt like home.

The demons outside cried out as a new presence descended, their forms disintegrating into smoke and ash under the sheer force of its power. You blinked against the brilliance, barely able to process what was happening as the heavy thud of something filled the air.

Lilith’s smile faltered for the first time, her white eyes narrowing as she turned toward the source of the light. A silhouette.

Castiel? The last of your strength slipping away as the adrenaline burned out of your system. The world tilted dangerously, and you felt your knees buckle beneath you.

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

AN: Yeah... Don't kill me. I feel severely disturbed at how fast I wrote this. Anyway, hope you enjoyed guys. Feedback is always welcome

Tag list:

@youdontknowe @theamuz  @mysteryenchatress @craycraycraic @craycraycraic @variant-zee @ur2moms @ambiguous-avery @steviespookie @s0urw00lf @bewr0210 @mostlymarvelgirl @dear-bambi2 @yeehawgiddyup13

[hannieehaee]

LO$ER=LO♡ER

18+ / mdi

summary: jihoon's been pushed aside and ostracized from the moment he was born. completely alone, with no family and only a handful of friends, he's been too beaten down to expect anything good with the shitty cards life has dealt him. when he's presented with his new coworker, it's hard to not fantasize about her, but he'll never actually allow himself to believe she could ever look like him with anything but pity — just like everyone else.

content: loser!jihoon, antisocial!jihoon, sociallyawkward!jihoon, insecure!jihoon, sunshine!reader, jihoon is basically just a complete loser with horrible luck who's never felt true happiness (sorry), mentions of bullying, mentions of jihoon's sad past, sunshine!reader, slowburn, lots of worldbuilding but its just so u can feel sorry for jihoon lol, coworkers au, pining, miscommunication, afab reader, smut, sub!jihoon, virgin!jihoon, handjob, body worship, nipple play, dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 14k

a/n: this was my fave concept to write so far honestly hehe

masterlist

Every week was the same.

Jihoon would get up, fix his overgrown hair the best he could, and take the train over to work.

This was as far as he'd gotten in life; an overly repetitive existence with no sense of joy within it.

He should've been happy. Things were better now. Being 27 with a stable job and no real issues in his life should be something to be grateful for, yet Jihoon found himself being completely displeased with his life.

Surely there must be more to life than this, right? A lonely and loveless life that appeared to be leading him nowhere. But still, things were better than before.

It was hard for Jihoon to speak of his childhood, much less his teenage years (or even his college life). It was all too grim. He'd grown to accept it, to let it all go, but the past had made him who he was, and he knew his current self was to blame for his loneliness. For his lack of love.

And so he continued his daily routine, living day after day with no change in sight. He accepted this with a flat smile, grateful that things were just fine. Not good, not great, not even varied, but just fine.

This week, though, finally had something different. But to Jihoon that was usually bad news.

Were you bad news?

You were the brand new thing in his life.

It was your first week in his office. A brand new face. A very pretty face.

Jihoon never thought about such things. He'd never had any romantic experience in his life. He had a long distance girlfriend once, but even that didn't work out. Too much distance, too many lies, too many complications. Jihoon just wasn't made for love.

So he never thought of such things again.

It was rare for him to even see a pretty girl on his day to day. His morning commute was far too early and filled with people way too old for him to even look in the eye without feeling disrespectful. His workplace, although consisted of a variety of people, was not a place where he felt very welcome initiating friendships or anything of the sort. Cliques had ended in high school, he thought, yet he found himself at the bottom of the food chain among his coworkers. He wasn't liked and was deliberately avoided by everyone around him.

Until you came along.

Finding you beautiful was no surprise to Jihoon. It was the most obvious thing in the world. Putting appearances aside, you were sunshine personified. Smart, confident, hardworking, gentle, nice, beautiful. You were everything anyone could ever want. At times Jihoon even wondered whether he wanted you or if he just wanted to be like you.

You'd caused an immense impression in him within the short time in which he'd known you.

He hadn't really gotten to know you on a personal level yet. But you had extended him an olive branch upon the first meeting, which was a memory that had implanted itself on his mind. It was rare for Jihoon to come by good memories.

This was the first time he'd felt accepted in a very long time. Yet the fears of it turning around and slapping him in the face (like in so many prior instances) was too big for him to really consider you good news in his life.

It was kind of embarrassing looking back at it. Jihoon hadn't been expecting you (how could he have?), but you suddenly showed up at his cubicle accompanied by one of his coworkers, Doyle.

Doyle wasn't someone Jihoon thought too much about — or at least he tried not to. He was the classic high school bully, except in a corporate-world wrapping. Jihoon had dealt with bullies his whole life, he'd become desensitized to it by now. Still, it bothered him to see him standing next to you. He hadn't met you yet, but he was immediately disheartened by the new girl at the office looking buddy-buddy with someone he considered an adversary.

What had been surprising to Jihoon, though, was your complete disinterest in Doyle's obvious advances.

It was pretty often that Doyle would attempt to assert his dominance by putting Jihoon down in front of other coworkers. He'd tease him and patronize him in front of anyone to see in order to show others who was in charge. And it was not Jihoon, that was for damn sure.

Jihoon got up as soon as he sensed a presence at his cubicle, somehow managing to stumble over his feet as he did so. When he looked up, he was not expecting you, yet there you were. Beautiful, smiling down at him with genuine interest in your eyes. You didn't know him, but you had kindness in your eyes. He could tell.

He stumbled over an introduction as Doyle interrupted him, telling you Jihoon's name and position at the company for him. Unwarranted and once again showing that if he so wished, he could speak over Jihoon.

But you'd interrupted him in return, turning to Jihoon to extend your hand with that smile never leaving your lips.

"Hi, it's really nice to meet you," you'd smiled as he felt fire at the mere handshake.

"Hi, I, uhm, I'm Jihoon. Lee Jihoon. I didn't realize we had someone new coming. It's nice to meet you. You- If you need anything, you can always ask me," he slapped himself mentally when he said it. He stuttered his way through it like a fucking loser. His immediate attraction to you was too obvious. Doyle's smirk as he stood beside you told him all he needed to know.

"Oh, that's so nice, thank you! I'm right next door. Well- right next cubicle, so I'll probably take you up on that sooner or later," you laughed at your own attempt of a joke.

Jihoon couldn't help chuckling back, ignoring Doyle as he patted your shoulder, laughing along. Jihoon noticed a short-lived discomfort in your eyes at the action, one which died when your eyes went back to him.

Was he imagining it, or were you showing preference towards Jihoon?

"Well, let's not bother our little Jihoonie here any longer," Doyle interrupted once more, "It's almost lunch time," he leaned in to tell you, looking down at Jihoon, "We all usually go to a burger joint nearby — Jihoonie here likes to stay in, so we try to stay out of his way."

That wasn't entirely true.

Once upon a time, Jihoon did attempt to join the rest of his coworkers in outings, but he was always alienated. After a few too many slights about his hair, his height, his weird choice in clothing, or even just his personality, he decided to stray away from anything that wasn't strictly professional when it came to his coworkers. He was always the butt of the joke, so he made the decision to isolate in the office with a cold sandwich he packed for himself every day.

Sometimes his friends Soonyoung and Mingyu from accounting would join him, but there was usually not enough time to see them during regular working hours. This left him alone most of the time.

Your face seemed to deflate at Doyle's words. Whether it was out of pity for Jihoon or annoyance at Doyle's overzealous confidence around you, he wasn't sure.

"Oh, I actually brought a packed lunch," you told Doyle before turning to face Jihoon again, "Would it be okay if I stay in with you?", you looked at him with expectant eyes.

"You wanna, uhm, have lunch with me?", he asked dumbly and you nodded, "Y-yeah, that'd be nice, yes," he attempted a shy smile, succeeding when you returned it.

Doyle cleared his throat, interrupting the silent smiles you and Jihoon were sharing.

"Well, I could stay in with you if you want, I-"

But you interrupted him again.

"That's fine. I don't wanna get in the way of your plans. Jihoon will make fine company," you said politely, stepping away from Doyle to head over to your desk, popping back next to Jihoon with a brown paper bag.

Doyle looked dumbfounded for a few moments before masking it with a tight smile. Jihoon simply stood there as you pulled up a chair and settled it on Jihoon's desk, paying no mind to Doyle.

"I guess I'll leave you two to it. I'll keep showing you around after lunch. You have my number if you need anything," Doyle made emphasis on that last statement, offering you what looked like a genuine smile before giving Jihoon a look that told him he still felt victorious in the end.

"Thanks, Doyle! Bye!," you smiled back before turning to Jihoon.

Lunch was incredibly awkward for Jihoon. But that wasn't your fault. You'd been incredibly nice, asking him questions and keeping the conversation going despite the mumbly, shy mess Jihoon was. The conversation was entirely carried by you, with you surprisingly taking an interest in him. Every word, every gesture, they all led him to believe you were genuinely nice.

At the same time, he felt entirely delusional.

It wasn't often that people were nice to him, so it was likely he was building it up to be more than it actually was. You likely did not want to stay in with him, but after Doyle brought up that Jihoon was the only one in the office during lunch break, you had no option but to join him since you also planned to stay in. However, you were a good team player, Jihoon believed. Not many people would sacrifice their lunch to stay in with the black sheep of the office just to rid yourself of any possible awkwardness. Jihoon knew damn well many previous coworkers had gone out of their way to avoid him before.

But despite the belief that you simply pitied him, Jihoon missed your time spent together the moment it ended. He felt shy and blushed bright red at every single word uttered from you, but it had been the nicest interaction he'd had in a long time (a long, long time).

That had happened last Wednesday, repeating itself on Thursday, Friday, and then a whole weekend was spent with Jihoon solely thinking about you. Time that he usually spent reading or playing chess online was instead used up to think about you. It was mostly to overthink every tiny interaction and panic over it, but it was was still preoccupied by you.

But he also thought about other things.

How beautiful he found you to be. How nice, funny, hardworking, smart and riveting you were (despite this being an assessment he'd made in less than a week of knowing you). This was Jihoon's first crush in ... he couldn't even remember how long.

And it was terrible.

Every crush he'd ever had had turned out terribly. Harmless elementary school crushes turned into pranks pulled by his classmates in order to embarrass him. Prepubescent middle school crushes became false confessions that led to public embarrassment. Hopeless high school crushes were nothing but a farse that led him into giving up altogether.

Throughout his practically non-existent love life, Jihoon had always been met by nothing but discouragement, sometimes by simple rejection and other times by harassment from people who believed him to be unworthy of being liked. These were memories he did not like to relive, but the resurgence of feelings for someone brought them all back.

And so he was unsure of how to feel. He was unsure of whether to let himself like you or recoil, unwilling to even try.

"Hey, Jihoon, do you think you could help me with this?", you asked him on Monday.

After spending all weekend thinking about you, Monday finally came. He was unsure as to whether or not your friendly behavior would continue onto your second week, when you were more settled in. In the usual cold and reserved fashion he'd adopted for the past decade, he avoided you most of the morning. When he saw you in the elevator upon arriving at the office, he stalled, waiting for the door to close so he wouldn't have to share the ride with you. He hadn't wanted to avoid you so blatantly, but apparently his past trauma had taken control of his body at the time.

If you noticed, he hadn't realized. He hoped you hadn't.

And now, a few hours into the day, you were asking for his help, and even his anxieties couldn't prevent him from helping you. He wanted to be good to you. At the moment, it was what he wanted most. He was unsure as to why.

He got up, hands fidgeting together as he took the few steps over to your desk, awkwardly standing next to your seat as you turned towards the computer on screen. Taking a few steps closer, he cleared his throat, standing right behind you and leaning down in order to check out whatever was on screen before you began to explain.

"So sorry to bother you, Jihoon! I, uh, I was just wondering what I should do when I get this pop-up? I tried looking over the manual, but I couldn't find anything," you pointed over at the screen, eyes still on it, "It's just-"

Jihoon invertedly leaned closer, eyes also on the screen. As soon as he looked at what was on display, he locked in, fully focused on the issue at hand.

Surprisingly even to himself, Jihoon enjoyed his job. He was amazing at it, and getting to help you out was just a bonus.

"Oh, yeah. It's a glitch. It happens sometimes. Here, let me just ..."

Without thinking, he interrupted you, hands taking over your mouse and keyboard as he leaned impossibly closer without realizing it. His head was right next to yours, but since he was too focused on the task at hand, he did not have the realization to be flustered at the proximity. And then he fucked up even further.

Continuing to help you, he began rambling out explanations about what he was currently doing on screen. He rambled on and on, showing you step by step how to handle the issue and adding on extra details the average person would not concern themselves with. He was so into it, he didn't realize he went on for a good five minutes, all while you sat next to him, staring quietly at the screen as you watched his every move.

That was until he was abruptly interrupted.

"Jesus Christ, Jihoon, you're going to make the girl never want to ask for help again," Doyle's voice suddenly rang through, a mocking yet patronizing tone wrapped around every word.

Jihoon's movements halted when he heard a few giggles from other coworkers resounding at Doyle's statement. Slowly, he backed his hands away from the mouse, barely registering how close he was to you when his face turned to your own, finding you looking at him with a worried look on your face — he couldn't decipher what it meant, but he was too embarrassed to even think of it.

He jumped back at the proximity, mumbling out an apology with a bow of his head.

"S-sorry, I-"

"Yeah, yeah. It's fine, Jihoon, we all know you get a little over excited sometimes," Doyle leaned over the other side of the desk, "Don't mind him, Y/N. You'll learn to tune out his rambling at some point, we've all had to — that, or you'll go crazy."

Doyle turned around after that, throwing a wink over at you that, for some reason, made Jihoon wince.

Yeah, okay. He was a fucking loser, he was well aware. The reminder felt like overkill at this point in his life.

Like a dog with his tails between his legs, Jihoon looked down, giving you one last pathetic 'sorry' before turning away. Not even chancing a single glance your way after Doyle's interruption, he preferred to save himself further embarrassment and left the room altogether. He had done most of his work and lunch was close. Taking an early lunch seemed like the best idea.

Hastily, he grabbed the lunch bag under his desk and walked towards the exit, ears barely registering a faint 'Jihoon' coming from the direction he had just left.

~

Today, he'd chosen to leave the office for lunch.

Well, not really. He'd just stepped outside, finding some empty bench in front of the building to sit at. It wasn't like he could eat at his desk as per usual when everyone else was still there. He just couldn't stay there after being shut down like that in front of you.

All things considered, it hadn't been the most embarrassing thing to happen to him, but it still left him feeling like an absolute loser.

The worst of it all had been that you'd seen it all and hadn't even reacted.

It's not like he had expected you to stand up for him. Hell, you barely knew him. Maybe it was just easiest to engage with the majority; to laugh along when Doyle made a joke, joining in on the muted laughter of all his other coworkers any time Jihoon was used as the butt of some joke.

Except that you didn't laugh. Jihoon didn't even register your reaction before leaving, instead reacting in the same fashion as a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Fuck, you probably thought he was a fucking baby on top of already thinking of him as some defenseless loser. Jihoon wanted to blame it all on Doyle, but it was also his fault.

"Jihoon?"

His train of thought was interrupted by a sudden voice, startling him into squeezing his hands around the unbitten sandwich he'd been holding this whole time.

Turning to the voice, he found you standing there, paper bag in hand as you hesitated walking closer.

When he turned to you, mouth agape in surprise at your sudden appearance, you took a few steps forward, likely taking his silence as an okay. Like a fish out of water, he opened and closed his eyes a few times, unknowing of what to say. He really hadn't expected you to follow him out.

Dropping his sandwich, he cursed at himself. He attempted to catch it, but his hand to eye coordination had never been the best, so it just resulted in him fumbling his hands like an idiot before his sandwich met its demise on the dirty floor.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to catch you off guard," you apologized, rushing to the floor in front of him, squatting in front of him as you picked up his fallen lunch.

"I-It's fine, I-"

"No, Jihoon, I've already ruined your day enough, fuck. And now your lunch is ruined," you sounded genuinely disappointed, "Here, we can share my lunch! I'll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise."

You remained kneeling in front of him as he sat on the bench. Jihoon cringed at knowing your skirt would get dirty at its contact with the floor but you didn't seem to care. Instead, you looked up at him with worry towards him. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your bottom lip stuck out a bit in a small pout. It was both adorable and nerve-wracking.

"Please get up, you'll get your skirt dirty," was all he found himself saying.

Jihoon caught you chuckling under your breath before getting up, dusting your skirt and then taking a seat next to him. The distance you allowed between the two of you was too small for Jihoon's well-being, but a part of him deep down was happy about him.

You looked down at your lap for a bit, so did Jihoon. The two of you were quiet for a few seconds, but Jihoon was unsure why. You appeared to be bashful, perhaps even a little shy? It was strange to see. There was no reason for you to feel shy around Jihoon. He was the mess here. He was the one who should be avoiding eye contact, hiding himself away from you to ensure he didn't ruin things between you — Things, as if the two of you were anything at all. He was overthinking things again.

"Jihoon," you interrupted his train of thought.

"Hmm? Yeah?"

Idiot.

"I, uhm, I'm sorry about what happened back there," you began. Jihoon almost interrupted you, shaking his head and raising his hands to halt you, but you shook your own head, continuing, "I should've said something. I know I'm new, but god, Doyle's such an idiot. You didn't deserve that, especially since it was my fault. I'm really sorry."

Your eyes showed nothing but sincerity as you spoke. A certain worry reflected in your face, making Jihoon's heart soar, crumbling with some sort of guilt he didn't understand.

He had no idea how to react.

"I- I'm sorry," he stuttered, "I didn't- It's not your fault. I didn't mean to make you feel like-"

"What? No, Jihoon, I'm apologizing. You just wanted to help me and I wasn't appreciative. I should've told Doyle to get fucked," you put your lunch bag aside, scooting over a little closer and hesitating a bit before grabbing onto one of his hands, "I'm really sorry. I hope this doesn't hurt our friendship."

"Friendship?"

You flushed at his question, "Yeah, I, uh, aren't we friends? I know it's only been a few days, but-"

"Yes! We're friends, I'm sorry," you gave him a look, "Right, sorry, force of habit. Fuck, okay, I'll stop now," his hand itched in yours as you chuckled at him, "I ... Thank you. It's really nice of you to come check up on me. Don't, uh, feel like you have to stand up for me. Doyle's just ... well, what you said. I wouldn't want you to get picked on too."

"Don't worry about that, Jihoon. He wouldn't do that. He likes me," you revealed casually.

"What?"

"He asked me out last Friday, but I turned him down."

Jihoon's hand tightened around yours without him realizing. That revelation made him feel something he'd never felt before. It was as if his heart dropped while his jaw tightened. It might've been annoyance, but it felt stronger than that. Doyle? Doyle liked you? That bit was not shocking to Jihoon. But the fact that he'd asked you out surprised him. Did he have no care for you as a coworker? You were new, for god's sakes! What you needed was guidance, a friend, a colleague willing to walk you through the work like he needed back when he first started. Yet Doyle was instead choosing to-

"Jihoon? Are you okay?"

Fuck. He'd been rambling internally again. If Jihoon had a nickel for every time he embarrassed himself in front of you ..

"Yeah, uhm, sorry. Just, uh, don't really get along very well with Doyle."

"Can't imagine why," you said sarcastically, "Is there a story behind it?"

Your hand left his own at some point during your conversation, instead going to empty out your paper bag and absentmindedly split the sandwich you had in there. Without saying anything, you offered him a half, smiling in encouragement when he hesitated to take it.

"I, uh, it's nothing. Just dumb workplace drama," he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, "I'm just not too good at standing up for myself."

That sure was a way to downplay it. But Doyle truly wasn't the sole culprit to Jihoon's history with alienation. This had been his entire life. Jihoon had grown far too accustomed to being harassed in every way imaginable. From alienation, to physical beatings, to even having his life threatened, Jihoon had gone through it all. Back in his youth, he wondered if it'd been something he'd done. If maybe he was just unlikable and that was why everyone either avoided him or attempted to make his life even more miserable. As he grew, he began to wonder if perhaps it'd been due to growing up without any proper socialization. His parents had, well, not really existed — something which pained him to think about — which left him sad and alone for most of his upbringing. This was probably why he was never able to properly interact with other people, leaving him as an easy and defenseless target.

It wasn't a secret to Jihoon that he was weird. And even that was an understatement. As a young boy, he was always into things that most people found strange. He was too focused on books and anything that could expand his intellect. This was followed by his incessant need to babble about his niche interests to anyone willing to listen (which was usually no one). He quickly into his teenage years that this was not welcomed by people — usually learning it through patronizing teasing or some classmates taking on physical means to shut him up. Unfortunately, even as an adult, he'd continued to make this mistake, thinking that maybe he'd meet people who enjoyed his eccentric personality without shutting him down. He'd done it at this same job, immediately learning that his input (or his personality in general) were not very well appreciated.

"But that's still not okay, he shouldn't-"

"Hey, it's fine, really," he smiled at you, "It's more than enough that you'd wanna, uh," he hesitated, "that you'd want to be my friend. You know, with all things considered."

"Are you kidding? You're easily the funnest person in the office," you moved past the subject, likely understanding it was a sore spot for him, "Everyone else is kind of stuck up, honestly."

"Hmm, yeah? I can believe that."

He went on to take a bite from the sandwich you'd offered him, humming at finally being able to fulfill some of his hunger.

"What, they're mean to you but you won't even say anything bad about them?" you gaped at him.

He shrugged, "It's not productive. I don't hate them."

"Wow. You're a way better person than I am, Lee Jihoon," you sounded impressed as you said it.

And that was more than good enough for him.

Jihoon's friendship with you continued to flourish during the upcoming months after that.

Any other instance in which Jihoon would've usually cowered under the targeted disdain of his coworkers was instead met with your intervention. You'd usually interrupt, somehow turning the conversation away from him or even subtly shooting back against whoever had decided to snark at Jihoon.

The first few times had him blushing an embarrassing shade of red, stammering as he attempted to respond or even just appear normal at what had just occurred. He'd never experienced someone standing up for him, much less did he feel like he deserved it. Having your presence in such uncomfortable circumstances was more than enough to aid him, but knowing that you wanted to defend him made his heart go crazy.

Within the short time that he'd known you, it was obvious to Jihoon that, against all his attempts to prevent it, he'd developed a crush on you.

Under any other set of circumstances, that might've been fine. However, Jihoon had never in his life been under normal circumstances.

Crushing on you was entirely too terrifying. You were the most perfect girl he'd ever met — the only girl he'd allowed himself to be interested in in far too many years. He knew deep within him that he could not allow these feelings to continue flourishing, but he had never been quite good at burying his emotions.

It felt so high school. All of it. He was the loser outcast and you were the pretty cheerleader the quarterback was chasing after. The only difference was that unlike in high school, you were giving him the time of day.

Back in school, any time Jihoon found himself liking a girl, he was never met with reciprocation. Which was fine, of course. There were a few instances, though, in which it went further than lack of reciprocation, or even just rejection. Jihoon would need more than two hands to count the amount of romantic humiliations he'd undergone in his life.

There had been instances where he was confessed to as a joke, or even times when he was led to believe his feelings were mutual, only to be rejected in some cruel way. It felt like out of a movie at times.

Jihoon supposed he couldn't really blame others for their childish games. He was an easy target, lacking any familial or any sort of adult protection during his youth. Plus, he knew his victimhood was only a phase of these people's lives.

It was strange, however, that staying at the bottom of the totem pole throughout his life just seemed to become normalcy for him. He expected that once he grew, got a respecting job and found more friends that he'd move up in social hierarchy — or at least stop being metaphorically beaten down at every turn (he was at least grateful that the beatings were now metaphorical rather than literal).

You were the complete opposite of him.

In the time he'd known you, he'd come to find out that your life up until now had been nothing short of picture-perfect. You made friends easily in the office, even befriending people outside of your department you had no obligation of interacting with. And this was not new to you. You'd let Jihoon in on your childhood, telling him about your years as a cheerleader in high school, even riding that cheerleader wave all the way to college. Your entire life had been spent happy and surrounded by people who enjoyed your company.

Yet, somehow, your company of choice had become Jihoon.

Being chosen, wanted — even if just platonically — was something Jihoon had never experienced. His brain would override every single time he saw you, attempting both to not fuck things up between you and to leave his crush dormant.

This proved incredibly difficult at times. Any time you subtly stood up for him, or any time you smiled at him before leading him outside for lunch (at the bench that had now become your place. Yours and Jihoon's) together, or even when you'd simply scoot your chair slightly closer to his own during meetings, Jihoon felt himself sink deeper and deeper. His heart and his brain were constantly working against each other.

Tonight would be his hardest battle as of yet.

The two of you had yet to see each other outside of work in the past two months you'd known each other. This was fine to Jihoon. More than fine, actually. It gave him time away from you to recover from the palpitations your mere presence caused him (which required quite a lot of time).

Tonight, however, was the in which night he'd begrudgingly agreed to join you and the rest of your department on a night out.

Apparently these happened every few weeks. Jihoon had never known about them. Figures.

You were an active participant of these outings, usually insisting that Jihoon tag along, that you'd be there and would not leave his side (God help him). He'd even come to find that his friends Soonyoung and Mingyu from accounting would be there. The realization that he was such a hermit that he didn't even know his closest friends hung out outside of work without him did bother him a little.

And so he agreed. Against his better judgment, he let your pout and your wide eyes talk him into going to a bar with people (mostly) he knew hated him.

~

Jihoon had been unsure of how to dress.

When he'd texted Mingyu about it, he'd been met with a three-way call between him, Gyu and Soonyoung celebrating his first social outing in months. And then he'd been berated about showing off his 'assets,' whatever that meant.

Sure, Jihoon knew he was more fit than the average person, but this was something he usually felt shy about. He believed himself to be overcompensating for everything else he lacked in his person, both physical and personality-wise. So, it was safe to say that most of his clothes did not show off his assets.

Still, he made the attempt to follow both Mingyu's and Soonyoung's advice when it came to dressing up. Even if his crush was currently forced down a basement and locked away, he still had some dumb desire of impressing you.

You impressed him every day, whether you meant to or not. There was no dress code at his company, but formal attire was pretty much the norm, and you ... you worked with it quite amazingly, if Jihoon had anything to say. From the pencil skirts to the perfectly tailored dress shirts and blouses, you always left Jihoon working overtime to avert his eyes to more respectable places.

And so today he wanted to impress you. Donning some tighter jeans than usual (to show off his lust-worthy legs, had said Soonyoung) and a dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to give way to his chest (which Mingyu had called 'sculpted to the gods'), Jihoon moved on to his hair. He'd come to realize that unlike most other people, you really liked his hair. You constantly complimented the length and the pale tone of it. Bleaching his hair was something he'd started to do once he graduated college. He wanted some sort of separation away from his hometown when he'd moved away to work at the company, and despite the constant negative feedback, he'd decided to keep it.

He opted to let it down tonight, diffusing it after washing it to ensure some volume and a slight wave to it.

He looked fine, he thought. Jihoon didn't have any particular positive opinion about his appearance, but at least he'd gone from thinking himself a hideous hermit to simply okay. But according to Mingyu and Soonyoung, who'd offered to drive him, he looked like sex waiting to happen.

Blushing, Jihoon was unsure as to whether he wanted that to come true or not.

~

The hardest part had been arriving at the bar.

You were the first person he spotted as he and his friends walked in. The place was packed with members of your office, people he'd only seen in passing as he made his way over to his floor gathered with coworkers he wished he didn't know as well as he did.

But all of that left his mind immediately upon registering it. You were his priority. And everyone else's it seemed. Various men in your vicinity had their eyes on you, Doyle included.

Jihoon couldn't blame them. How in the world could he when you looked like that?

You were completely ignorant to any of the attention you were receiving. Standing by the bar, you were nursing a drink, leaning your body against it and giving Jihoon (and everyone else) the perfect view of your form. The slip dress you were wearing was shorter than the usual skirts you wore at school, allowing your legs to receive the well-deserved attention of anyone willing to appreciate the beauty before them.

This was the most skin Jihoon had seen of you. It made him feel like a depraved pervert to stand there and just stare, but he was hypnotized. The fleeting thought of getting to do more than just see passed through his mind, sending shivers down his spine. He had to shake his head to remove any filthier thoughts from entering his mind. He felt embarrassed and idiotic involving you in such thoughts. A sad, lonely virgin using his one and only female friend to feed himself with such thoughts was incredibly sick and deprived and-

"Dude, stop drooling. You haven't even said hi yet."

Mingyu nudged at him, breaking him away from his trance at once. Jihoon shook his head again to reset, coughing awkwardly as he attempted to negate what Mingyu had said, only to be interrupted by the other guy he'd arrived with.

"You look like sex on legs, man. Go talk to her. We'll go find a table. Come find us if you fuck everything up somehow," Soonyoung received a swift punch to his shoulder at his comment, but shrugged it off as he gave Jihoon thumbs up, walking away with Mingyu.

Taking a deep breath, Jihoon walked over to you, finding you still distracted by your drink.

Before he could even announce his presence, you sensed him, turning back and immediately offering him a wide smile. Good, you were happy to see him.

"Jihoon!," you left your drink on the counter to engage with him in a hug. His arms hovered over your waist, avoiding direct contact both for his sanity and out of respect.

Physical contact had never been Jihoon's forte. Usually he'd need some sort of warning ahead of time in order to mentally prepare himself. When it came to you, he so badly wanted his proclivity against physical touch to burn and die in a fire. He found himself craving your hug the moment you pulled away.

"I honestly thought you wouldn't come," you chuckled.

"I promised I'd come," he smiled back.

"C'mon, let's get you a drink. On me," you turned back to the bar, flagging down the bartender before turning back to him, "You don't seem like a big drinker. Is a beer okay?", he nodded at you as you handed him the drink.

The two of you leaned against the bar after that, letting silence between you consume you. Jihoon wasn't sure what to say. This was the first time he'd seen a girl outside of work in ... well, ever. And it wasn't just any girl — it was you.

"You look beautiful," he braved, finishing it off with an awkward cough.

Your body turned to his, a shy smile being hidden behind a lip bite, "Yeah? High compliment coming from you."

"H-hmm?"

"Jihoon, you look amazing," you emphasized, "I had no idea you were hiding all this under those baggy suits," your hands went to play with the neck of his collar, "Maybe unbutton it one more?", you said as you did so, "There, that's better."

Jihoon burned up. A tomato's red shade could not compare to how red his ears must've been at that moment. He flushed, breath hitching at your fingers gracing the skin of his chest. All he could do was clear his throat and advert his eyes, awkwardly smiling and nodding at you.

"You're cute," you giggled.

"Uhm, are you drunk?", he couldn't help in asking.

You giggled again, "I'm not, Jihoon. Is it that hard to believe I find you cute? Because you are. I don't know how you don't realize. You've been getting eye-fucked by those girls over there since you walked in," you pointed behind him, leading him to find two girls attempting at subtly looking his way, whispering among each other.

"O-oh, uhm, I'm sure that's not what they're doing," he stumbled, flushed.

"Uh-huh. Anyways, c'mon. I hate hanging out at the bar. Let's find a table," you grabbed onto his wrist then, pulling him towards the back of the bar.

On his way to the table of your choosing, he spotted his two friends, receiving a childish thumbs up from Soonyoung and a mouthed 'my man!' from Mingyu. He groaned internally, shaking his head and frowning at them. Once you made it to an empty table, you even commented on it.

"Those are Soonyoung and Mingyu, right? I'd never actually met them before. Come here with them?"

"Oh, yeah. I- ignore them, they're just being dumb," he scoffed lightly.

His hands laid flat on the table, unknowing of what to do with them. Your demeanor was way more relaxed than his own. It was clear to anyone around that you could blend into any environment. Jihoon, in the meantime, had trouble adjusting practically anywhere, especially at a social pool such as a bar.

"It's fine, Jihoonie, they're just rooting for you," you winked at him before enveloping the straw of your own drink in your mouth.

Jihoon decided not to overthink that (or maybe save it for later), also swinging at his own drink to avoid more awkward words leaving his mouth. He wasn't even sure why he was being such a socially inept mess. The two of you had had long-winded conversations at work many times before, maybe it was just the current setting. It felt the way he assumed a date would, except that it wasn't.

"Hmm, can I have a sip? My drink's too sweet. Here, have a taste," you went to grab at his beer, shoving your pink drink to his side of the table.

Looking down at the straw, he noticed the red shimmer of your lipstick on it, gulping at the thought of letting his lips touch it. But before he could psych himself out, he did it.

Before actually sipping at the drink, he allowed himself taste the lipstick. It was a sick and depraved thing to do, but he couldn't help himself. If this was as much of you as he could have, then he'd take it. The cherry tang it left on his lips made it worth it, but he couldn't let himself to enjoy it for too long. The drink itself had been entirely too sweet, causing his nose to scrunch up, which immediately earned a giggle from across the table.

"Sweet, huh? I should've gone for a beer, but I figured you wouldn't mind sharing," you shrugged as you took another swing of it, handing it back afterwards.

Now his eyes landed on his own beer bottle, eyeing that same glimmer on the mouth of the bottle. Without thinking of it, he took an swing of it, dropping the bottle too harshly back on the table before looking back at you. There, his eyes couldn't help but finding your lips. He tried being subtle, but he seemed to be lacking that skill at the moment.

"Oh, is my lipstick smudged?," your hand went up to your mouth. You fished your purse for a compact mirror and a set of two tubes, smiling at him before beginning to reapply, "It's such a hassle. That's why I never wear darker lip products at work," you said mostly to yourself. Then, you turned to him, plumping your lips before smiling, "How's it look?"

There was absolutely no way you weren't hitting on him. Jihoon may have been an absolute idiot when it came to any social interaction, but he was sure you'd been hinting at something all night. Right?

This was the perfect moment for him to flirt back. To compliment you, to woo you and make his interest known. If any moment was tailored for such a thing, it was this one. Jihoon just needed to grow some balls for once and be assertive.

However, that is not what he did.

Instead of coming up with some charming one-liner, Jihoon instead stumbled over his words, delivering a mixture of 'uhm, yea!' and 'looks great!,' completely emotionless while also awkward.

Fortunately for Jihoon, all you did was giggle in return. It sometimes felt both demeaning and like a relief when you'd giggle in return to his awkwardness. He hoped to elicit different reactions out of you, but that fault fell completely on him.

You eyed the bar behind him, causing him to turn back. There was a small area that was supposed to make up a dancefloor. This wasn't exactly a club, but the dancing scene appeared pretty turned up. Jihoon could even spot his two friends on the dancefloor with some girls unknown to him.

When his head turned back to face you, you smiled at him, opening your mouth to speak. Jihoon could see where this was going.

"Hey, Jihoon. Wanna dance with me?"

You were grinning as you asked. That overexcitement that was usually present on your face was there once more. Disappointing you with a rejection was the very last thing Jihoon wanted to do. It was literally how he'd ended up out tonight.

But, still, his idiocy knew no limits, apparently.

"Oh, uh, I- I don't dance," he stammered, "Sorry."

He went back to nursing his drink, eyes avoiding yours and closing off from further questions. When he looked back up, he was mortified to find some dejection in your eyes.

He needed to salvage this. He was a good enough dancer. He had no idea why he'd even said no in the first place.

"I, uh, actually, I could-"

"Hey, beautiful. If he won't dance, I'll take you out for a spin. I'll give her back in a bit, Jihoon, don't worry."

Jihoon's abrupt interruption was, of course, delivered by Doyle. Why he had been close enough to make out your conversation, Jihoon had no idea. It irritated him, though. That was for damn sure.

Jihoon knew you wouldn't say yes to him. After the endless lunch breaks you'd spent together, you'd become privy to Doyle's treatment of Jihoon. And although you never once actually acted on the negative feelings that had inspired against Doyle, you had still expressed to Jihoon how much such things had dampened your view of him.

What Jihoon hadn't considered, though, had been the very frustrating concept of peer pressure making an appearance.

A few other coworkers at a nearby table started to instigate, encouraging you to go join Doyle. Claims that he was a great dancer and that you'd look good out there together were thrown around. Each comment made Jihoon sink more and more into his seat. At some point, one of the girls in your neighboring cubicles even walked over to you, grabbing your hand to further encourage you to accept Doyle's offer.

You appeared troubled. From Jihoon to Doyle to the girls, you looked back and forth, mouth opening and closing without an actual response leaving you. An uncomfortable smile was on your lips the entire time.

It was obvious to Jihoon you simply did not want to leave him to his own devices. You'd promised so, after all. So he decided to take you out of your misery.

Getting up, he cleared his throat, "Go ahead. I, uh, I'll just go hang out with Gyu and Soon. I kinda ditched them earlier."

He added a little white lie to really sell it. His friends wanted him to stay with you, but he didn't want to force you to not have fun. He had his chance, twice, and stupidly missed it.

"See? Jihoon's busy. This isn't really his scene anyway. C'mon," and so Doyle managed to pull you away.

As you walked away, you turned back to Jihoon, but he was faster. You mentioned going to find him after you were done, but Jihoon tuned it out. Walking away in order to get to his friends, he could hear a short exchange between a few comments made by some coworkers. They weren't anything new, but they still bothered him at this moment.

"They'd made such a cute couple, huh?"

"Yeah! I heard Y/N was head cheerleader in high school. Doyle used to be a quarterback. It's literally like fanfiction."

"Yeah. Jihoon, though ... I don't think that'd work. He's too fucking awkward."

"A bit of a weirdo too. She's out of his league."

And then he was out of earshot.

He found Soonyoung sitting by some table near the entrance quick enough, he thanked god for that. He needed to at least not be alone right now.

"Dude! What are you doing here? What happened to your girl?", Soonyoung was quick to question.

Jihoon shrugged, taking a seat dejectedly.

"Oh, shit, man. I'm sorry," Soonyoung caught on, patting Jihoon on the back, "What happened?"

Jihoon simply gestured north of him, directing Soonyoung's eyes to the dancefloor you were currently at. You'd quickly warmed up to the mood, a smile gracing your face as you danced along with a few of the girls from the office. The silver lining was that you weren't actually dancing with Doyle as originally intended, but rather dancing near him. Still, Jihoon could see Doyle occasionally make his way to you and try to subtly get you to dance with him.

"Fuck. It's that asshole Doyle, huh? I'm sorry, man."

"What happened?", Mingyu suddenly showed up, sweaty and out of breath.

"That dick Doyle took Hoonie's girl," this was met with a frown and an expletive from Mingyu.

"She's not my girl. She's not my anything," Jihoon grumbled, "I think I'll just go home."

Getting up, he was stopped by Mingyu, pleading he stay and have fun. Similar complaints were given by Soonyoung. But neither were enough for Jihoon to want to stay. He'd been an idiot and done nothing to even try and match your energy. It was no wonder you left at the first chance you had.

"I only came to hang out with her," Jihoon sighed sadly, "I'll just see you guys next weekend, okay? Have fun without me."

He hugged each goodbye, disregarding their pouts and heading out. He didn't bother looking back, not wanting to sadden himself even more.

"You're lying to me."

Both Mingyu and Soonyoung stared at Jihoon like puppies awaiting a treat. Their metaphorical tails were practically wagging. It was unnerving. Especially because of the subject at hand.

Jihoon had decided to take the Monday off. He'd decided to grovel over what happened. After what happened last night, he felt like a complete loser facing you at work. Like an idiot, he'd let his feelings get all muddled and made himself believe that maybe you had some interest in him. Only to immediately fuck things up and leave you alone with the guy who was his literal antithesis. Not only that, but he'd left you there without even saying goodbye despite having agreed to be there for the sole reason of being with you.

After four o'clock, Jihoon should've known that his two nosey friends would come find him. It was rare for Jihoon to miss work, so their sudden knocking a few hours after clocking out was predictable.

However, they'd been the ones to shock Jihoon. They had shit-eating grins when he'd let them in. They'd managed to sit through a quick lunch prepared by Jihoon before spilling what had them in such an annoying mood.

"Dude, she came looking for you after you left," had said Mingyu.

"She looked sad as fuck when we told her you left! Then today when you didn't show up to work, she-" then Soonyoung was interrupted by an overexcited Mingyu.

"She asked us for your address, dude! Came all the way to accounting all shy and shit and asked if we thought it'd be okay if you stopped by," Mingyu had finished.

Jihoon spent a few minutes in surprised silence after that. The belief that they were playing a prank on him was the most logical to him.

"Dude, we're not lying!," Soonyoung exclaimed, nudging Mingyu so he'd confirm his statement.

"Yeah, she said she'd stop by in a few hours. We had to clock out early to come warn you."

"You clocked out early cause you hate working," Jihoon rebutted."

"Okay, two things can be true at once."

"Anyways, she'll be here at any moment. So you should doll yourself up for her. I have no idea what she may want, but-"

Mingyu interrupted this time, "Are you kidding? They're gonna fuck. It's going to be a k-drama moment and then they'll seal the deal."

Soonyoung made an O face and gave Gyu a high-five. The children in front of Jihoon were beginning to drive him insane. And usually he would've scolded them, but their words were making him too anxious to think.

Suddenly, Jihoon got up, ushering them out.

"Okay, get the hell out of here. I need to be ready for her, fuck. Fuck. I should've just gone to work today, I'm such an idiot," he groaned to himself, beginning to pick up their plates so he could tidy up the place a bit.

"Dude, calm down. It'll be fine. Clearly she cares if she's coming to check up on you after just one day of you being gone," Soonyoung reasoned, "Whatever happened to a phone call anyway?"

"This is the romantic way to do it, Soon, c'mon."

Mingyu shrugged in agreement, now dragging Soonyoung along with him towards the exit. Their goodbyes were as prolonged as per usual, but Jihoon was eventually able to get them out of his apartment.

Jihoon rushed to make the place as tidy as possible, even fixing himself up as best as he could whilst also looking casual. The hardest hurdle was coming up with non-pathetic reasons as to why he'd left in such a rush last night and why he had skipped work altogether.

How was he supposed to explain that he was a sensitive, good for nothing, pathetic, loser piece of-

But there was a knock before he could even finish a single thought.

He knew who was on the other side, even if he tried to will you away by purely praying to get himself out of this situation.

"Jihoon? I know you're in there," you called out from outside, "I saw Mingyu and Soonyoung leave work early today. I assume they came over to warn you I'd be coming."

Fuck, you were too smart.

There were too many good things about you. And Jihoon would've loved nothing more than to take a few hours to think about all those things, but he had your actual presence to deal with at that moment.

With a deep breath, he walked over to the door, opening it and finding you standing on the other side of it. You were still wearing your usual office ensemble, meaning you'd come directly from work.

"Jihoon," you breathed out. There was a mixture of relief and worry in your tone.

"Uhm, come in," he moved aside to allow you in.

Naturally, the two of you moved over to the couch, rushing to the kitchen really quick to get you a drink — one he, of course, knew by memory from the months in which he'd known you.

"So, uh, what's up?", he cleared his throat.

"Jihoon," you put down the coffee cup he'd handed you, shifting your body on the couch to face him, "I'm really sorry about last night," you began, "I promised I'd stay with you and then I left when I really should've said no to Doyle and all the girls."

He wasn't fully facing you, but he could still perceive how apologetic you were. It made him feel like an asshole to be the cause of this. Why did he have to be so damn sensitive?

"It's not your fault, it's-"

You went to grab his hand from his lap, mirroring that first time you'd followed him outside back when you'd barely started working with him. Physical touch always made him anxious, but it was a good type of anxiety when it came to you.

"No, Jihoon, it is," you reaffirmed, hesitating to continue.

A sort of shy look overtook your face, drawing your eyes away from him for the first time since your arrival. You even let go of his hand, acting as if you'd been shocked you even took it in the first place. A small 'sorry' left your lips before you continued speaking.

"And I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night with all my, uh, flirting," you swallowed, "I know you don't see me that way. I guess it was just the whole, uh, vibe? that made me feel like it was okay, but I won't do it again, I promise. I want to respect your boundaries. I didn't think you'd end up skipping out of work because of me. Fuck, I feel like a terrible friend."

Jihoon could do nothing but watch in horror as you spoke.

Every word that left your lips was more wrong than the previous. You'd misunderstood everything. But then again, Jihoon had not communicated his interest at all. You had no way of knowing that he liked you or that he'd been hoping against all hope that he hadn't misinterpreted your advances.

There was one last chance presenting itself in front of Jihoon. This was his last and only chance to set things straight. To grow some balls and risk it when he told you that he reciprocated any feelings you may have had for him — and tenfold.

But he stayed quiet, gulping when you sat there with an equally horrified look on your face. It was likely due to his silence, yet his body was still frozen.

"Uhm, Jihoon, I- I don't know what else to say. I'm sorry, I-"

"Will you go out with me?"

It had been said so suddenly that Jihoon didn't even register he'd been the one to say it. He hadn't planned to say that, especially so suddenly. It was as much a shock go him as it must've been to you. Surely his face matched yours, which consisted of wide eyes and an agape mouth. The shock was entirely mutual.

"What?"

Jihoon flushed, gulping and looking at his lap. His heart was practically beating out of his chest. This was the most daring thing he'd done in years, and its effects were manifesting physically. Sweaty palms, rumbling stomach, eyes burning, he had it all.

But at least it was out there now.

"I, uhm, I wanted to know if you'd want to go out with me?," he tried again, pathetically adding a quiet 'please' afterwards.

"Jihoon, what? You like me?"

The way you asked made it sound like it was the most shocking thing you'd heard in your life. That in itself made his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

He decided to start from the beginning. And this time he was the one to grab your hand.

"I was okay with everything you did or said last night. Trust me. I was just a coward. I was especially a coward when you asked me to dance. I wanted to say yes- I should've said yes. But instead, I let that idiot take you and- and when I saw you having fun, with- with him, I just left like an idiot. I'm sorry I left just like that. It wasn't you. It was me, I swear," he rambled on a single breath, "I do, uhm, I do like you. A lot. An embarrassing amount, really," he chuckled to himself, "And if you'd still be willing, I'd, uh, I'd really like to take you out on a date."

Eye contact had never been Jihoon's forte, and much less in an instance such as this. His eyes remained on his lap, altogether avoiding even daring look in your general direction. But eventually came the time in which he had to look your way to try and gauge your reaction.

Looking up at you, he believed to see horror in your eyes. The very last thing he could've ever wanted to provoke in you.

This was it. This was yet another rejection. Another humiliation leading up to social ruin. His one and only friend in his department would seize to want any sort of relationship with him and it was all because he misread a situation yet again and acted like a socially inept idiot.

"I, I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"I didn't know you liked me," you interrupted.

"Huh?"

"God, Jihoon, I had no idea you liked me back, what? This is crazy. I thought I fucked everything up," you let out a humorless chuckle.

"What?"

Now he was confused. Now he was the one with horror in his eyes.

'Back'?

"Sorry," you chuckled, scooting closer to him, "I like you. I assumed it was obvious and that you were just having a hard time letting me down easy," and with that, you blew his mind.

Jihoon sat there, mouth agape and eyebrows scrunched together in absolute shock. Things could not have turned more different than he'd ever imagined.

Yet he still felt like he was being played. Such things had happened in his past. Fake confessions, tricks of the mind, you name it. As much as Jihoon liked you, his past experiences screamed deep within him to back away, to not fall for it.

And then you grabbed his hand again, scooting even closer. There was a look of understanding in your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you began, "I'm not lying Jihoon, I really do like you."

Before he could ask what you meant, you continued.

"I, uhm, talked to Mingyu yesterday — I asked him not to mention it to you. He told me some stuff about your childhood," you paused, waiting for the solemn nod he gave you to continue. He tensed, leading you to squeeze his hand, "I know there's been some stuff in your past. We didn't get into details, but I promise I'm being genuine. I like you. And if you really do like me back, I'd love to go on that date with you."

Jihoon hadn't processed your proximity until this moment. He'd been too focused on the possibility of this being another ruse, another way to break him down just because of his social ineptitude. But now that his brain was working again, it immediately malfunctioned once more as he realized what was happening.

Not only had you admitted your own feelings and accepted his invitation, but you were far too close for anything other than a kiss to occur. If your proximity didn't give it away, your eyes did. Zeroed in on his lips, they occasionally made their way back to his eyes as if asking for silent permission.

And for once in his life, Jihoon was daring. Jihoon took the first step without fear of fucking things up.

As pathetic as it'd be to admit out loud, the very first touch of your lips was life-changing for Jihoon. There'd been one or two kisses in his life, all filled with instant embarrassment or simply being nothing to write home about.

Yet this kiss was devastating. It was a testament to everything he'd ever fantasized about yet convinced himself he'd never have. It was soft and barely there at first, but the quiet sound you let against his lips was all he needed to lose his mind.

Before he could pull away, shy, bashful, you pulled him back in, opening your lips and welcoming him to do the same.

Your tongues met in the middle before Jihoon completely surrendered to you. He didn't even try to put up a fight. It was unnecessary. All he wanted was your kiss, to fall victim to anything you wanted to take and give him.

A shaky breath was let out into your lips. It felt as if his body was vibrating. The immense nerves he usually felt in social situations and all their physical symptoms were present, but it was all too different than usual. They were accompanied by a burning in his stomach.

Jihoon knew this to be arousal. Frankly, it was a pathetic realization — to feel such things with a simple kiss. But it wasn't any kiss. It was you. It was your tongue in his mouth, your hands making their way to his hair, your soft sounds muffled with his own.

"N-no, not yet. Please," he found himself pleading when you pulled away to breathe.

And he almost cried when you moaned at his pleading before trapping him in another kiss, just as heavy as the last.

Jihoon was in over his head. He could barely follow along. Could barely please you with his own lips. He was defeated by you, too high on lust to be a worthy opponent. And god, he couldn't even let himself begin to think about what was going on in his pants at that moment.

"Jihoon," you breathed.

You'd learned your lesson from last time, it seemed. Instead of attempting to pull away, you licked at his lips, keeping a nonexistent distance between you.

"What do you want?", you asked, "What do you want from me? I'll give you anything you ask for."

His mind couldn't wrap itself around that statement. He wanted everything. His body was burning and his mind was reeling. Never in his life had he come close to feeling like this.

It had been many years since he'd settled for his life. No more hopes or dreams for love, for anything grander out of life. The concept of physical touch or any sort of pleasure had left the picture quickly into college. All he'd ever known had been senseless fantasies of what could be but would never be.

Yet now he sat here, prettiest girl he'd ever seen looking into his eyes — eyes heavy with lust that made him have to use all his strength to not cry and moan and whine at the effect he seemingly had on you. Did you like stupid losers with nothing to offer? Because he was the perfect candidate.

And his eyes dropped to your lips again, almost as if there was some sort of pull towards you that he could not control. Even while knowing all other forms of pleasure he could beg for, he needed to kiss you again.

"Nghn, I- Kiss, I wanna kiss you. Please? I wanna-"

His begging didn't last long, soon interrupted by something he could barely call a kiss. It was wet and messy, teeth clanking and tongues suckling at each other. Sounds of pleasure shamelessly left both your lips and your bodies got closer to one another.

The next thing to blow his mind was your body, which soon made its way to straddle his own. From this angle, you were slightly above him, now ensuring you had all the control — though that was met with no complaints from him.

His usually shy hands were forced onto your hips by your own before yours went back to running through his hair. They were liberal, your hands, in exploring him. When your lips trailed down to his neck, exploring and quickly finding his weakest spots, your hands went to his shirt, reaching under it and exploring the bare skin underneath.

"I want you, Jihoon. Do you want me too?," you whispered into his ear, teeth softly pulling at the lobe.

Jihoon couldn't think, couldn't breathe. His mind was a chorus of yesyesyes, too broken to actually respond.

"Want you, p-please. Anything ... You can do anything, just-"

Everything cut off then. Your touch, your lips on his skin, your weight on his lap.

But it was replaced by you pulling him towards the door leading into his bedroom, quickly assessing the room before pushing him onto the bed.

He was pliable under your touch. He'd be a boneless doll if necessary. Anything you wanted was yours — Jihoon was yours.

The empty weight of his lap only lasted a few seconds before you filled it back up, hands once again finding his shoulders. He felt shy under your gaze, especially knowing you could probably feel the hardness beneath you.

"I've never ... I know it's probably obvious, but I, uhm ..."

"That's okay, Jihoonie," your hand went to his cheek, soft in caressing it, "We don't have to do anyth-"

"No!", he suddenly interrupted. He became bashful when he realized how sudden and loud he'd been, "I mean, uhm, I want to. I really want to. Please."

You sighed, "So polite, Jihoonie. Bet you're going to be so good to me, aren't you?", you said almost to yourself.

Jihoon swore his dick twitched at your words. There was nothing in this world he wanted more than to be good for you. He needed you to tell him how nice and how good he was. Nothing would ever compare to being the giver of your pleasure.

He nodded numbly, mouth agape as you leaned down.

But instead of kissing him as he'd expected, the hand on his cheek shifted. Your thumb graced at his bottom lip as you watched intently. Jihoon's body reacted on its own. He needed no direction to open his mouth the tiny bit necessary to let your thumb in, suckling softly without needles any further direction from you.

This caused you to groan, which in turn made him moan. He'd never been one to have any sort of creative fantasies. Any time he allowed himself to think about sex, it was all pretty cut and dry, usually involving some faceless girl that he knew would never manifest herself into real life.

But now he had a girl — a girl he was completely infatuated by. And she had her thumb in his mouth, looking at him like he was the manifestation of her lust.

Jihoon didn't know what to do with you. You were too much for him to deal with, too much for him to function properly. He'd never imagined himself having to will himself into not cumming due to a pretty girl's thumb in his mouth, but in this moment there was nowhere else he would've preferred be.

And then you pulled your thumb away, earning yourself an embarrassing whine from him. He almost had it in him to complain, to whine and ask for you to give it back. He wanted to provide, to give you something back. But instead, you kissed him again, this time using your hands to unclothe him in the midst of the messy kiss.

Somehow he ended up shirtless, with his pants removed and sitting there with mere boxers while you sat atop him, still fully clothed. Yet he didn't have it in him to complain. If this day was full of you doing whatever you desired with his body, allowing him not a single touch of yours, he'd take it. He'd be willing to take anything you gave him. He'd beg if necessary.

"God, you're gorgeous. How do you not have a line waiting to get their turn with you?", there was a hint of frustration in your voice. It was as if the sight made you angry, like it made you so frustrated you couldn't hold back. Cuteness aggression but replaced with lust. Jihoon couldn't comprehend having such an effect on someone, much less you.

"I, uhm, I don't-"

He had no idea how to respond to your praise. But thankfully, you didn't give him enough time to muster out some pathetic response, instead opting to kiss him again, hands feeling up every available inch of skin.

You pushed him up on the bed, silently encouraging him to scoot up so he could lay down with your body still straddling his own. This felt more intimate. Jihoon knew where it was leading, he'd imagined being in this position once or twice, but never pictured it'd be anything like this.

"Is this okay?", you asked once your hands went to his chest, softly tracing shapes in it in a way Jihoon wasn't sure was supposed to be teasing or if he was just so touch-starved that it felt euphoric to him.

"Yeah, I, oh, fuck, yes, just ..."

He found his answer when your hands went to his nipples, circling them softly before pinching and pulling at them with your fingers, shutting him up before he could even make out a single sentence. It only became worse when you lowered your head, mouth meeting one nipple while the other remained engaged by your hand.

Sensitivity on his chest was not something he was aware of. There were likely countless things he was into but had never managed to explore. But Jihoon decided in that moment that what he was into was you. Every touch, every kiss, every look, every word. He held onto every single one and sighed into them, losing himself in the process and- fuck.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Any further exploration of his mind halted at that moment. The moment in which your hips joined in on the fun. They ground against his own shyly at first, testing the waters. His hands gripped at your hips helplessly, almost as if attempting to hold onto his remaining sanity.

The worst part was when you reacted to it. Enjoying the feeling that first rock of your hips gave you, you continued, whining into his mouth as your hips sped up. Your hands gripped at his shoulders, though they occasionally felt up at his arms and chest, clawing at the muscle there and ensuring to leave your mark.

Jihoon was on fire. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. All he could do was pathetically whine into your lips, silently begging for you to never stop, for you to make him forget himself.

"Please, oh fuck, pl-please don't stop. It's so- good, oh ..."

"God, keep talking like that," you groaned.

Fuck. Of course you liked him pathetic and whiny. Of course you were turned on by it. It created a never ending cycle of you doing whatever you wanted to him and him crying like a needy loser, only causing you to double down. It was heaven and hell. Jihoon's body was in overdrive.

"You're gonna make me cum, you- fuck, don't stop, I need- shit, please."

His voice was unrecognizable now. Jihoon didn't know which dimension he was in anymore.

Until it all halted.

Your movements ended, and the weight on his crotch left him. A pathetic whine came from his lips at this, but he was too needy to feel embarrassed.

Before he could get up and kneel, begging at your feet to continue (something which he'd truly do if he wasn't to embarrassed by the thought), you made your way back to him, though this time Jihoon felt an unexpected warmth on him. A warmth accompanied by sticky wetness. It took Jihoon a few seconds to realize what was sitting on him, but when it dawned on him, it destroyed him.

Daring to open his eyes and look up at you, he found you flushed. Your face looked warm and your expression was far too lustful for him to handle. What caught his attention the most, though, was your sudden nudity. His brain could not process it, the sight of you in complete nudity, sitting on his cock with a single layer of his damned boxers intervening.

The sight went beyond his imagination. Goosebumps formed on every inch of his skin, and even his hardness twitched under you in a manner so pathetic it shocked even himself. The image above him would haunt him for the rest of his life, especially as he laid there unknowing of what to do with himself, of how to respond to such a sight.

And then you responded for him.

You grasped his hands, taking them away from your hips and bringing them up to your chest. Naturally, they engulfed your breasts, a groan leaving his lips at their weight in his palms.

"Like this, baby. Just touch me however you want," you encouraged with a breathy sigh.

"You're so pretty, fuck," he groaned again.

It caused you to giggle, biting your lip when his hands began to fondle you, playing with your nipples in the way you'd played with his earlier.

Your hips began moving again, though this time it was hotter, more desperate. You became frustrated with the friction quickly enough, digging into his boxers and pulling him out. Jihoon cried out at this, eyes rolling back at your hold.

After a few experimental tugs at his dick, you let go, letting it fall back against his stomach and taking a seat on it. Not putting him in yet, you began sliding against the length of it, letting your warm wetness grind against it in a manner so filthy it had Jihoon's head throwing back into the mattress.

"God, I wanna fuck you so bad," you groaned, "You'll feel so good, I already know it."

It was like you wanted to kill him. But Jihoon knew it was the mindless lust speaking. Which only made it all the worse for him. His incidental effect on you drove him crazy.

"Please, I- I want it," he cried.

But you decided to kill him some more.

"How bad?", you whispered into his ear, movements not halting.

If you wanted him to beg, to become a pathetic whiny mess as he pleaded for a single touch, he would. He had no pride when it came to you.

"So bad, you ... you don't understand. I need it. I need to feel it so badly."

But god, you were so mean. So terribly mean and wicked to him. Simple begging would not do, Jihoon realized. You wanted more.

"Need to feel what?", your hips sped up, the friction half-killing Jihoon.

"Your ... your, fuck," he gulped, "Your pussy. Please."

You moaned and then giggled, separating your cunt from his dick in order to create some distance. Sneaking between your bodies, your hand grabbed onto his hardness, sitting yourself up on your knees so you could align him to your cunt.

His tip was at your cunt, forced to circle at it by your hand as you teased both yourself and him. The warmth begging to wrap around his head made him delirious. Nothing had ever felt as good. There was no comparable experience.

"N-no condom?", he willed himself to ask.

"I'm on birth control. So if it's okay with you ...", you trailed off, chuckling when he nodded desperately at you.

You continued to tease yourself with his dick, gasping at the feeling of his tip against your clit as he twitched in your hand. The teasing was killing him, though it was too pleasurable for him to beg for anything else.

"God, Jihoon, I can already tell you're gonna feel so good, baby," you practically whined, "I'm gonna fuck you so good, angel. Just you wait."

And then your welcomed him in. In a slow descent, you lowered yourself on him, crying out his name once he was finally bottomed out.

Under you, Jihoon lost his soul. It was too warm, too wet, too perfect for him to react. His brain clocked out for the day, leaving him a hollow body meant for nothing but receiving pleasure. That orgasmic feeling of, well, an orgasm, was approaching far too quickly. Jihoon could feel his body contract on itself, insisting at him to let go, to give himself up to you.

But he persisted. The sight above him — the pretty girl with her eyes rolled back and her arched back causing her to press up impossibly close against him — had his body begging for just a few more moments to enjoy the endless pleasure you were currently giving him.

"'m gonna move now, okay, baby? Feel so good already, shit. So full," you sighed.

Your hands settled on his chest, palms pressed against it as you began to bounce. Sometimes you'd bounce, sometimes you'd grind. It was all too deliriously good for Jihoon to realize the exact science behind it.

If everything that came before had led him to this moment, he'd happily go through it all again. Nothing in his life could compare to this, to the intimacy, the closeness he felt to you at this moment. He had to do nothing but cry tears of pleasure under you, taking every bounce, ever rock of your hips, every kiss and every word of praise in his direction. If he had to go back to the lonely, hellish life he lived before just in exchange for this very moment, he'd beg for the chance.

But Jihoon didn't need to be as fatalist anymore. Not when you kept whining his name, when your eyes were crossed and your breasts were bouncing above him in a demonstration of your incessant need for him.

"Baby, give ... give me your hand," you suddenly moaned. Your hips sped up, clearly driving yourself to your orgasm and surely dragging him along with you.

He followed your instruction, just as his brain had been programed. He gave you his hand, groaning when you placed it at your cunt, silently instructing for his knuckle to bend and dig at your clit. You tightened impossibly harder at that and fuck, it was too good. It was too tight, too wet, too filthy as your moans heightened in pitch.

And Jihoon truly wanted to warn you. He wanted to tell you and come right alongside you, but his poor virginal body could only take so much before breaking. It was an impossible task to hold back and await for your own pleasure to join his. But god was it mind-blowing.

He'd orgasmed before. Alone, cold in his room, feeling pathetic due to his lack of possibility at romance, knowing he'd never find a girl to look at him with anything but apathy. Yet here you were, whispering filthy words into his ear, encouraging his orgasm with a hint of mischief in your tone as your orgasm interrupted your words.

You were evil, Jihoon realized.

Above him, you made a show of your high, providing him with a view that would surely ruin him for life. Your hands let go of his body, instead choosing to fondle with your own, putting aside your own orgasmic experience to instead destroy any last bit of sanity left in him (which truly was not much — likely in the negatives by now). Your face was one that Jihoon would tattoo in his memory, bringing back up again and again in order to finish himself off in the many lonely nights to come — he couldn't help his fatalistic way of believing this might be a one and only type of situation.

It felt endless, so endless that the pleasure was almost painful. But Jihoon could still categorically asses this as one of the best experiences of his long years on this earth.

The low after the high was still blissful. Jihoon had heard of 'post-nut' clarity, with it being sold as a negative after such a high. Yet Jihoon felt nothing but bliss as you disconnected from him and dropped to lay at his side, wordless as you intertwined your bodies and stole body heat from him (which, really, he was more than happy to give).

Jihoon was unsure of what to say, but the smile you gave him said enough for the two of you. It was a silent exchange of affection that Jihoon never thought he'd be on the receiving end of.

"Maybe skipping work today was a good idea," you joked after some silence.

His eyebrows lifted. Understatement of the year.

You laughed and nuzzled further. He must've said it out loud. Well, the effect was nice, so he had no complaints.

"We're going to have to visit HR first thing tomorrow morning," you groaned into his chest, seemingly unable to help yourself in pressing kisses there. Jihoon felt too loved.

"Hmm?"

But he was still half-dead.

"I'll wanna jump you as soon as I see you tomorrow morning. I won't be able to be discreet," you joked.

"You wanna, uhm, be official?", he risked in asking.

He wanted to slap himself. You'd given no indication of changing your mind about him. This fatalism was something he really needed to work on.

"Yes, you idiot. God, Jihoon. We're going to have to work on this," you agreed without realizing.

It was quiet after that. It was the same quiet Jihoon had grown used to in his solitary life, except it had morphed into a silence he could see himself becoming fond of. Your breath against his chest was all he could hear, and it was the one and only sound he desired from now on.

The following morning, you awoke before him, loving on him without question, wordlessly showing him how easy it was for you to want him, to love him. It was new, but for once, it didn't scare Jihoon. For once, he could see himself giving into something good without fear.

to read short 2.3k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on patreon!

content: office romance, semi-public sex, afab reader, smut, oral (m receiving), etc.

wc: 202 (teaser); 2340 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Hmm, we have to, hmph-"

That was as far as Jihoon had been able to get all morning before yet another rude interruption from you.

Well, calling it rude would be going too far.

In reality, Jihoon was very welcoming of every single interruption. Especially since each one consisted of your lips on his, with the occasional involving your tongue down his throat.

You'd woken up early, awakening him with soft caresses and kisses to his bare chest. It was a first for him. Everything was a first, really.

He'd been defiled for the first time last night, having the girl of his dreams suddenly showing up to his apartment to fix up a miscommunication (entirely caused by him) and turning his world upside down by confessing to a crush he'd believed completely unlikely.

The details made Jihoon too flustered to really think about, but at least he'd allow himself to enjoy the aftermath of it all.

But sadly, he had to try and interrupt you again. It was nearing the time to go to work, and as happy as he was with you, he knew things at work would likely have to change due to the sudden development of your relationship.

...

find the continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[kayhi808]

OK, let’s say he comes back from a mission and it was really rough on him and he kind of relapsed into the winter soldier(slightly very very slightly) and Steve let’s reader know that a lot happened. Abby has went away with Natasha for a weekend together as reader was really busy w work. Bucky comes home and is so so on edge and is afraid he will hurt reader and isolates himself especially after he almost hurt reader when she crept up too silent behind him. so he hates himself rn. BUT THEN ABBY RUNS IN OUT OF NOWHERE AND HUGS HIM CUS SHE WAS WAITING FOR HIM TO COME BACK AND BOOM man either lets out the craziest sigh or low keys cries because he realizes he is okay. idk something like that if it makes sense ¯\_(ツ)_/

🧹

Thank you, to my favorite anon!💕 It took me forever to get to this one. This was a lot to go on. It could have gone really dark and angsty, but I'm trying to keep my Abby stories a little lighter. Hope you like it.🤗

Bucky was gone on what turned out to be an intense mission & word just came back that his team was returning. Steve and Bucky were heading the mission so you weren't too worried. You always like when they are sent out together because you knew they had each other's backs. ALWAYS

The quinjet touched down & the crew disembarked. You saw Bucky and Steve walking down the ramp, deep in conversation. As soon as Bucky made eye contact with you, you felt something was wrong. Then he veered away from you to another entry into the Tower and you knew something was very wrong.

You started to follow him, but Steve blocked your path. "What happened? What's wrong with Bucky??"

"Y/N, give him some time, this mission was rough on him."

"Is he hurt? Is he ok?"

"Physically he's fine..."

Impatiently, "then tell me what happened!"

"It's his story to tell. He needs a little bit of time to sort out the demons in his head. That's all."

"That's all?!?"

"It's what he wants."

******

You were able to give him 2 days to himself, until you caved in & tried calling Bucky just to hear his voice. For him to tell you he's ok but needs time to himself. You'd understand that. But for him to send your call to voicemail pissed you off. You left a message last night & today's you were leaving to pick up Abby, you tried again & you got his voicemail.

"Babe? Can you please call me back, text me...or something, so I know you're alive yet purposefully ignoring me? That would be great." You sigh, "Is this how we are going forward in this relationship? This will be the new communication norm?"

You gather your things to head out of the building, but up ahead you see Steve & Bucky. You hurry to catch up with them. You grab onto Bucky's arm & before you can even say his name, his hand is on your sternum, and you're shoved against the wall. A startled yelp escapes & he releases you immediately. "Fuck!" His hands drop to your arms, "Are you ok? Did I hurt you?" Steve pulls Bucky back.

You reach for his hands, "I'm fine. You startled me." You look up at him and he looks so tired. You go to hug him but he pulls away from you. "Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on, Buck?" You turn to Steve, "Would you do me a big favor and pick-up Abby from pre-school, please?"

"Yea, sure " He shoots Bucky a worried glance before he leaves.

*****

Once you're back at Bucky's residence, "Are you ready to tell me what happened?" You flop yourself down on his couch.

"I can't... I can't let those things...touch you. You don't need to know about HYDRA."

"Bucky, I know about HYDRA. I work here! Nick Fury is my boss."

"You don't need to know about the Winter Soldier. You don't need to know about me back then." Bucky stops pacing & drops down into his chair.

"You don't think I've done my research before dating you? Before I let you be around my daughter? What you did back then was not your fault. You weren't given a choice. HYDRA had control of you. Babe, you are not the same person."

"I'm still capable..."

You move to sit at the foot of his chair, "No! Stop it."

"Doll, I could have killed you back there!"

"You didn't. You wouldn't. You're James Barnes, not the Winter Soldier!" You squeeze his hands. "Talk to me, Bucky. Let me share your burden. We're in this life together. Please tell me what happened."

With a deep sigh, "We went to hit an active HYDRA base camp." You nod. "Doll, there were cribs there. In the lab, there were children's bed and restraints." You softly gasp, squeezing his hands tighter. "We couldn't locate any of the children, but now I know they're out there somewhere."

"Oh, Bucky." Tears prickling your eyes, "I'm so sorry."

"I killed them all. Whoever was there." You kneel up to wrap your arms around him. It took a while for him to return your hug, but you didn't let go. He gives in and pulls you tightly to him.

"You think I wouldn't do the same if I could? Wouldn't anyone do the same? The only difference is that we don't have your skill set." Pulling away, cradling his face between your palms to get him to look at you, "Just because you have the skills, does not make you the Winter Soldier." You give him a soft kiss. "The job you took on isn't an easy one, but you're making the world a safer place. For people like me and Abby."

"I saw the cribs and beds and I...I thought of Abigail. And...I snapped." You nod.

"I understand how that could happen." Bucky pulls you onto his lap & he holds you for a long time in silence. You offered him comfort any way you could. You understand now why he was so affected by this mission. "You need to talk to me and tell me what's going on. You can't shut me out, Buck. I was so worried. If the situation was flipped, how would you handle me shutting down on you?"

"Not well." He gives you a slight smile.

Nodding, "exactly." You lean back against him as he wraps you in his arms.

"I'm sorry."

*******

Steve picks up Abby and visits with Ms Grace before returning to the Tower, hoping you and Bucky ironed out your differences. He texts you both letting you know he's got Abs in the common room watching TV.

"You knows what, Uncle Steve?"

"No, what Abs."

"Chloe and Mia says a new Lilo & Stitch movies coming outs."

"Oh, yea? Wow."

Abby stands up on the couch next to Steve and slings her arm across his shoulders. "Rights?? I so 'cited! You know what, Uncle Steve?"

"No, what Abs?"

"You wants to take me to the Lilo & Stitch movies?"

"Won't your Mama and Bucky take you to see it? Did they say no?" Steve has to ask. He's not going to be caught up in one of Abby's tricks and get in trouble with you.

"Mama gonna takes me, but you can takes me," holding up two fingers, "two time." She gives Steve a sweet smile.

"Abigail."

She cackles. "What if I likes it so much and wants to sees it again? Like Wicked?"

Steve rolls his eyes, "Fine. If you like it so much, I'll take you to watch it again."

Abby squashes her cheek against Steve's while strangling him around the neck, "Oh, tank you! Yous the best Uncle in all the worlds!" She sees Bucky in the doorway and Uncle Steve is quickly forgotten. "Papa! You homes!!" She bounces off the couch and runs to Bucky with arms spread wide.

Bucky steps back, away from your incoming toddler, banging into you. "It's ok, Bucky."

Abby doesn't slow down, so Bucky is forced to catch her and lift her into his arms. "I missed-ed you so much!" Abby peppers his face with kisses. She pulls away & squishes his face between her palms, "You missed-ed me, too?" A happy hopeful smile on her face.

Bucky nods, answering quietly, "Yea, baby. I missed-ed you, too," dropping a kiss on her nose which makes her do a happy wiggle.

@waywardhunter95 @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @buckitostan @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05 @ozwriterchick @crazyunsexycool @baw1066 @nommingonfood @jvanilly

[thomamaru]

Hierarchy of Intimacy (Chapter Rin)

Synopsis: Rin wasn't the type of person to be using slang words. After months of spending time with you, he started picking up on your vocabulary, but this would be a problem if one of them slips up during a match.

Tags: Rin Itoshi x gn!reader, fluff, teasing from his teammates, brainrot humor

Author notes: this is a series based on a trend of tiktok. characters that will be included is nagi, yukimiya, rin, chigiri, isagi, reo, kunigami, sae, and bachira. If you want to add a character, you can request with a prompt :)

Rin Itoshi was a mystery wrapped in indifference.

On the field, he was cold, calculating, and intense, the kind of player whose sheer presence could send shivers down anyone's spine.

Off the field, his personality was much the same—stoic, distant, and utterly uninterested in small talk or social nuances.

His silence wasn’t an invitation for company; it was a shield. Rin didn’t care for relationships or connections. For him, it was just noise that distracted him from his goals.

Then you came into the picture.

At first, Rin didn’t know how to categorize you. Your quirky sense of humor felt out of place in his otherwise rigid world.

You would say the most ridiculous things with a straight face, unbothered by whether anyone found it funny. Rin thought it was strange—annoying, even.

“What does that even mean?” he’d mutter after you dropped yet another baffling slang term.

“You’ll get it someday, Rin,” you’d reply with a laugh, your tone teasing.

To his utter confusion, he did get it. Over time, your laughter wormed its way into the corners of his quiet world, filling it with a lightness he hadn’t known he was missing.

You didn’t push him to open up, but your sheer presence made him want to try. It was subtle at first—small changes, little words that crept into his vocabulary without his consent.

And everyone noticed.

It started during practices, with his teammates throwing occasional looks at him when he would respond to something with a term or phrase that seemed out of character.

The tipping point, though, came during an intense match.

The tension in the stadium was palpable. It was Rin’s chance to break the stalemate and seal victory for Blue Lock.

With precision and focus, he lined up the shot, but the ball veered just slightly, slamming into the goalpost with a loud clang.

Frustration twisted in his chest as the missed opportunity echoed across the field.

“My bad, sigma,” he muttered, barely loud enough for anyone to hear.

But someone did hear.

Isagi’s head whipped around, disbelief written all over his face. “What… did you just say?”

“Sigma?” Bachira echoed, already on the verge of laughter.

Karasu didn’t hold back, bursting into a fit of chuckles. “No way. Did Rin just say sigma?”

Otoya smirked from the sidelines, adding, “We got Rin saying sigma before GTA 6 came out. Someone write that down.”

“Shut up,” Rin snapped, his ears burning as the teasing continued. His usual sharpness was nowhere to be found, replaced instead by a rare sense of embarrassment.

From then on, “sigma” became a running joke among the team. Rin tried to brush it off, but the damage was done.

The fact that he’d unconsciously adopted one of your favorite phrases only reminded him how much of you had embedded itself into his life.

---

When Blue Lock was granted a three-day break after the U-20 match, Rin didn’t hesitate to make plans.

There was only one person he wanted to see. He set off early, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and something uncomfortably close to nervousness.

It wasn’t like him to feel this way—restless, eager, and borderline desperate—but weeks away from you had taken their toll. He needed to see you.

The moment he spotted you waiting at your usual meeting spot, the weight in his chest dissolved.

You stood there, bathed in the warm light of the setting sun, looking just as stunning as the first day he’d met you.

Relief flooded his features, softening the tension he always carried.

He didn’t bother with words. Walking briskly toward you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you off the ground, holding you tightly against him.

The familiarity of your touch, your warmth, calmed the storm that had been brewing inside him.

“I missed you,” he said quietly, his voice rough with unspoken emotion.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I missed you too.”

Without thinking, Rin leaned down and kissed you—soft, unhurried, as though he wanted to memorize the feeling.

It was a grounding moment, reminding him of everything that mattered beyond the chaos of soccer and expectations.

The two of you were lost in your little world until a familiar voice shattered the peace.

“Can’t believe Rin got a girlfriend before the rest of us,” Otoya said, smirking as he and a few of Rin’s teammates approached.

Rin glared at him, his arms still around you. “Get lost, Otoya.” “Relax, we’re leaving.” Otoya glanced at you with a mischievous grin.

“By the way, you should teach him more of your humor. He needs it. Bye, sigma!” he called out, retreating with the others amidst their laughter.

You blinked, startled by the comment, before turning to Rin. “Sigma?” you repeated, a grin tugging at your lips.

Rin stiffened, his cheeks turning pink. “It’s… not what it sounds like.”

Your grin widened. “Have you been using my jokes?”

“I said it once,” he muttered, glaring at the ground.

“You said it during a match?” you asked, barely able to hold back your laughter. When he didn’t respond, you burst out laughing, holding onto him for support as tears formed at the corners of your eyes.

“Stop laughing,” Rin said, his tone flat, though the flush on his face deepened.

“Oh, Rin,” you said between laughs, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You’re so cute sometimes.”

“Tch. It’s not cute,” he grumbled, though he leaned into your touch without realizing it.

You smiled, your voice softening. “It’s just funny to think how much you’ve changed since we met.”

He frowned slightly, considering your words. It was true—you’d changed him in ways he didn’t entirely understand.

But what surprised him the most was that he didn’t mind. If picking up your strange humor was part of keeping you in his life, then he’d happily adapt.

Though he’d never admit it aloud, a part of him even wondered what other habits he might unconsciously pick up from you.

For now, though, he was content to stay in this moment, holding you close and savoring the sound of your laughter.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Home is at the track||F1!platonic grid x y/n l/n

Summary — y/n misses her sibling who she hasn’t seen since they left for the army luckily her team surprises her during her first win.

Word count 1k?

Y/N leaned her head against the side of her helmet, eyes shut tight as the minutes ticked down to lights out. The steady roar of engines around her was no help—she could still hear the pounding of her own heartbeat. Today could be the day. Her first podium. Maybe even her first win.

Her sibling’s voice echoed in her head. “You’ve got this, kid. Go show them what you’re made of.” They’d said it so many times that she could almost hear the smile in their voice. But it wasn’t the same. It hadn’t been the same for over a year. The military had taken them to places she didn’t even want to imagine, and while she couldn’t be prouder, the ache in her chest hadn’t dulled.

“Y/N.” Her engineer’s voice crackled over the radio, snapping her out of the spiral. “Focus. Deep breath. You know what to do.”

She nodded to herself, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Yeah,” she muttered. “I’m ready.”

She straightened, closing her eyes for one more breath—in, out—just as the first of the five lights illuminated.

One …

Two …

Three …

Four …

Five.

The lights went out, and everything else disappeared. No memories, no doubts—just the raw, electric focus that came with launching into a corner at 200 miles an hour.

The rain came out of nowhere by lap 15, slicking the track like ice. Cars spun out, littering the gravel traps, but Y/N held on with determination.

“You’re P2,” her engineer barked. “You’ve got this.”

Her arms burned, and her hands ached from gripping the wheel. Every turn was a fight, every straight a fragile reprieve. But she stayed locked on Landos rear wing, inching closer with each lap until the final one loomed ahead.

It was just her and Lando now, neck and neck in the unrelenting rain. Visibility was nonexistent, but Y/N didn’t care. She saw her chance—late on the brakes, diving into the corner. The car held.

The checkered flag blurred past.

“P1! You’re P1!” her engineer’s voice broke with emotion.

Y/N’s breath hitched, disbelief giving way to an ecstatic scream. “We did it! We did it!”

She parked in parc fermé, the team swarming her the moment she climbed out. Laughter, cheers, tears—she soaked it all in. But something felt incomplete.

Someone was missing. Her sibling had been watching from a quiet corner of the motorhome, heart in their throat as she pulled off that final move. They’d flown halfway across the world on a sliver of leave, hiding the whole time just to surprise her. Now, as she stood on the podium, bathed in camera flashes, they felt tears prick their eyes.

“She has no idea you’re here,” one of the team’s managers murmured beside them.

They smiled faintly, their voice thick. “She’s gonna kill me for this.”

The team gave them the signal. Standing on the top step of the podium, Y/N tried to stay present. The trophy was heavy in her hands, the national anthem blaring in her ears. But her eyes kept darting to the crowd. She knew it was silly—her sibling wasn’t here. They couldn’t be. They were probably watching on a tiny screen thousands of miles away.

The tears came before she could stop them, hot and unrelenting. She wiped them away quickly, forcing a smile as the champagne bottle was handed to her.

And then she heard it—a roar from the crowd, louder than before. She turned toward the commotion, confused. And there they were.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs was her sibling in their ACU’s holding their arms out for a hug. Gasping The bottle slipped from her hands, hitting the ground with a hollow thud. Her chest tightened, her breath catching. “No way,” she whispered.

“Miss me?” they called out, their voice just barely audible over the crowd.

She didn’t think—she leapt from the podium, sprinting into their arms. The trophy clattered to the ground, forgotten. She didn’t care.

“You’re here,” she sobbed into their shoulder, clinging to them like they might disappear again.

They held her just as tightly, their voice shaking. “Of course, I’m here. I couldn’t miss this.”

For a moment, the world faded. No cameras, no crowd—just them.

Hours later, the paddock was quiet. The celebration had wound down, leaving Y/N and her sibling on the motorhome steps, wrapped in a shared blanket.

“You pulled this off?” she asked, her voice raw.

“They did most of it,” they admitted, nodding toward her team. “I just showed up.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

They nudged her playfully, their own eyes red-rimmed. “I missed you too. And for the record? I’ve watched every race. You’ve been incredible, Y/N. You deserve all of this.”

She glanced at the trophy sitting nearby, running her fingers over the engraved plate. “I wouldn’t be here without you. You’re the reason I ever believed I could do this.”

Her sibling didn’t say anything, just pulled her into another hug. The silence between them spoke volumes.