#me: if you go back to the flooring desk i will-

[heesimp]

I lwk keep imagining Heeseung doing a livestream and you’re just sitting there bored and decide to give him head when he’s talking to his fans like>>>> help😭🙏🙏

HOT. au where idol!heeseung’s sextape gets leaked so he becomes a pornstar instead. bye

also I thought about this tiktok/live the entire time I wrote this ha

-

“What time is it for me? Oh, I think it’s midnight…Yeah, couldn’t sleep.”

Heeseung sits behind his desk and leans against his gaming chair, giving his fans a small peek of his bedroom. They can see his door and artwork that keeps on his shelves and walls but they can’t see the bed where you lay sleeping peacefully with your back turned.

“Missed you guys,” he says with his voice kept low. His eyes flicker over the screen of his monitor to see you naked underneath his sheets. “Why am I talking quietly? It’s night time, isn’t it? I don’t want to wake the members up.”

They seem to buy it for now. Heeseung’s soft melodies that put you to sleep still air throughout the room, songs that describe sex and sensuality floating around as it permeates within the chat room of his livestream. He sees the comments—ones he can read—and smirks when the people watching him call him out for the nasty lyrics.

It takes him back to just thirty minutes prior when he was making a mess of you on his bed, shoving his cock and fingers so deep in your hole that he was sure you’d feel him as melodic lyrics talk about having sex all day and night. He hasn’t seen you in a while due to busy schedules but now that he has his own room and the walls are relatively thick, he’s got no problem plowing into you without abandon.

“Wet the bed? Yeah, that’s a good song.” Heeseung rubs his chin and flicks his eyes over to you before looking back at the chat. “What am I looking at? What do you mean? What could I possibly be looking at?”

The uptick in his voice sends his chat room in a frenzy. He feels like he might as well be high off his last orgasm and knows his fans can sense his change of attitude. Seeing you half naked in his bed doesn’t help calm his mind anyway.

Heeseung chats with these strangers for a while before you stir. The music drowns out the sound of his bedsheets ruffling and he turns up the music just a smudge in case you make any more noise. To his pleasure, you turn to face him and immediately catch that he’s on a livestream with the glow on his face.

“I’m not tired,” Heeseung says after a beat of silence, looking at his monitor before looking at you. The sight of your naked chest makes him bite his lips, tits spilling out of the blanket as you do your best to sit upright and cover yourself. “Not tired at all. Are you guys tired?”

His cock jumps when you shake your head. “I could keep going.” Heeseung’s attention returns to the screen as he runs his free hand through his hair. “You guys are too funny. What do you mean, why am I acting like this?”

Your tired eyes seem to understand exactly what he means and your own mind drifts over to what transpired before you fell asleep. With a careful step, you make room for yourself underneath the desk and let Heeseung situate himself in his chair as you spread his legs by pushing his knees apart.

This isn’t the first time the two of you have fooled around on a livestream but it is the first time he’s done it with his camera on. Heeseung loves looking at his comments as you get him off and loves all of the tweets and posts after the fact, speculating that he might’ve been distracted during the livestream. These scenarios fuel him to keep going and he thinks he might have a little taste for exhibitionism.

He looks down at you. Your cheek rests against his knee and his thumb comes to brush just underneath your eye with a gentle touch. He bites his lip when he looks past your eyes and sees you completely naked underneath him, tits bouncing as you get comfortable with your bare pussy towards the floor.

“Mm,” he moans subtly. “Can’t wait for the weekend. We don’t have any plans, for once. What are you guys up to?”

Heeseung pretend to grab his water in order to lift his hips from the desk and let you pull his boxers down. His cock is still soft before you. Your lips come to press gentle, quiet kisses over his warm dick while he gulps the water down and flexes his thighs to keep himself calm underneath your mouth.

“Coming to Korea? Wow.” Your tongue moves over the head of his cock and repeatedly licks over his slit in a back and forth motion, which makes him choke and cough. “You’ll love it here. I know I do.”

You pay no mind to him with his subtle flirtation as you work up his cock until it’s hard. Heeseung is always like this, so sensitive that one touch makes him harder than a rock in no time. Being on the road and away from you is tough and his hand can only do so much. Your warm mouth dropping spit to coat him for a blowjob is what keeps him hard.

“What’s up with my music?” Heeseung laughs, biting his lip as you engulf his tip in your mouth. Your wet tongue is warm to the touch and his balls feel heavy with you around him. “Nothing. I just like these songs.”

That’s not a total lie. He loves them because he fucked you to this music before turning on his camera. You give his balls a squeeze when you catch him in the lie and Heeseung winces, trying to hold in his moan.

“You guys are hearing things,” he tells the chat when they start speculating that someone might be in the room with him. “Why do I keep looking down? I don’t know. I didn’t realize I was doing that.”

Another lie, but you let him go this time. You push your head down to force the entirety of his cock in your mouth and feel as his hips jerk at the sudden movement. Heeseung can only smile painfully and hold in his grunts while the camera is on him. Looking down at you isn’t an option since his fans have caught on to his line of sight but the thought of getting caught turns him on. He’d probably invite them to watch you suck him off if that wouldn’t cost him his job.

You look so cute on your knees like this for him. Heeseung avoids looking down at you but sees your mouth move from his peripheral vision and holds your hair out of your face as you push yourself up and down on him. You’re insanely wet to the point where you might as well be dripping right onto the hard wood of his floors. Hearing him talk to his fans about everything but what’s happening is turning you on far more than you’d like to admit. Seeing him flirt with fans on stage fuels your jealousy and winds up in mind blowing sex when he comes back home to you. You’re the only girl he’d ever want around his dick anyway.

You know Heeseung is close by the tightened grip he has on your hair and the way he flexes his nostrils because he can’t make a sound.

“When am I coming back to America?” Heeseung asks after reading a message. “I’m coming—”

He does, right into your mouth until his salty cum coats the surface of your tongue. You swallow him with his cock still lodged in you and suck him with an iron grip while he tries to answer the question but it’s so hard for him to focus when you’re sucking him like that.

“—in a while, I think.” Heeseung winces when you start to kitten lick his slit to catch the stray beads of cum that seeps from him. “Yeah. I’d love to come.”

[ilovemitsuya]

sylus x reader (fluffy,angsty?)

summary: “During a mission, I sustained serious injuries and was hospitalized. Though Sylus couldn’t visit me, he sent Mephisto in his place. When I was discharged, I wasn’t expecting him to be outside.”

“I’m not going to lie to you two.” Jenna said, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned back against her desk. “This mission isn’t like the others we’ve done. That facility is more unstable than we initially thought. The few teams we’ve sent to investigate before found nothing at all.”

Crossing my arms as I studied Captain Jenna’s face.

“So why send just the two of us, then?” I asked.

“Why not a full squad if it’s that dangerous?”

“Because we don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with. A bigger team could draw too much attention.“

“And if we find something… unexpected?” Tara asked.

“You report back immediately.” Jenna said, her tone firm. “Don’t try to take on anything alone if it’s beyond your capabilities. This isn’t about being heroes.”

There was a beat of silence before Jenna pushed off her desk and took a step closer to me and Tara. “But you’re not going in blind. We’ll have a team on standby if things get too hot. You need to trust your instincts and watch each other’s backs.”

Glancing at Tara, she gave me a reassuring nod.

Tara and I turned to leave, but Jenna’s voice stopped us just before we reached the door. “And remember.” she called out, “If things start to go sideways, you get out. Do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.” I replied, glancing over my shoulder at her.

With that, Tara and I exited the office, both of us knowing that we were walking into something dangerous. But we had our orders.

———————————————————————

The facility loomed over us, the metal creaking with the weight of its own decay. Tara and I moved cautiously through the halls, weapons at the ready, our footsteps echoing against the cracked concrete.

Dust hung in the air like a fog, making each breath feel heavy. We’d been searching for signs of Wanderers for hours, but aside from a few ominous claw marks on the walls, there was nothing.

Tara walked a few paces ahead, her sharp eyes sweeping the darkened corners as she scanned for any signs of movement.

“This place gives me the creeps.”

“The readings are coming from this sector.” I confirmed. “It’s like there’s a cluster of energy sources in the storage area up ahead. Something’s definitely drawing them here.”

Tara nodded and pushed forward, keeping a steady pace as we approached the large metal door that led to the storage room. She placed a hand on the door’s surface, glancing back at me. “On three?” she whispered.

I tightened my grip on my gun and gave her a quick nod. “On three.”

“One… two… three!”

Tara shoved the door open, and we moved inside in a swift, coordinated motion. The room was just as the rest of the facility, old crates and equipment lay scattered across the floor, and the walls were covered in peeling paint.

I took a step forward, my eyes sweeping the room for any signs of movement. But then, there was a flicker of motion in the shadows, too quick to pinpoint at first.

I turned to Tara, but she had already seen it. Her eyes narrowed, and she raised her weapon in the direction of the disturbance.

“Stay sharp.” she said, voice tense. “I think we’ve got company.”

I reacted on instinct, surging forward to intercept it with a gunshot.

It swiped at me with one of its jagged claws, forcing me to block the strike with my forearm. Pain shot through my body as its claws tore through my sleeve and left deep gashes across my skin.

Before we could even do anything, the wanderer let out a loud roar and smashed its claws against the support beams around us. A low rumble vibrated through the building, and the ground beneath us trembled. Dust rained down from the ceiling, and a series of cracks split the concrete walls, spreading out in every direction.

“Get out of here, now!” Tara shouted, sprinting for the exit.

I turned to follow her, but the ground heaved under my feet, and a section of the ceiling gave way with a deafening crash. I stumbled and fell, barely managing to roll out of the way as a massive metal beam slammed down where I’d been standing. The room shuddered violently, and the walls seemed to cave inward.

“Tara!” I called out, but my voice was drowned out by the roar of collapsing debris. I saw her struggling to keep her footing near the exit, but then another tremor hit, and a cascade of rubble came crashing down, forcing us apart.

I fought to keep moving, dodging falling beams and lunging over shifting pieces of debris. But it was no use. The floor buckled beneath me, and I felt myself falling through the collapsing structure.

The impact knocked the wind from my lungs, and pain exploded through my side as I hit the ground hard. I tried to move, but my legs were pinned beneath a heavy chunk of concrete, and the darkness quickly closed in around me.

The last thing I saw before everything faded was the shattered remnants of the facility above, crumbling like a house of cards. Then, there was nothing.

———————————————————————

The steady beep of a heart monitor was the first thing I became aware of as I drifted back to consciousness.

The world came back in hazy fragments, a faint antiseptic smell, the dull ache radiating through my entire body, the blinding white light overhead. I blinked slowly, the ceiling tiles came into focus. I was in a hospital room, covered in bandages, and every muscle felt like it had been dragged through hell.

A groan escaped my lips as I tried to shift into a more comfortable position. The movement must have caught someone’s attention because I heard a chair scrape back and then footsteps rushing closer.

“Hey, hey, take it easy.” It was Tara’s voice, low and familiar, filled with a relief I hadn’t heard from her often. She came into view, her face creased with worry. Her eyes softened when she saw I was awake, and she let out a breath that sounded like she’d been holding it for a long time. “You’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”

I managed to lift my head just enough to give her a weary look. “Like I got hit by a train.” I rasped, my voice rough from disuse. “What happened to me?”

“You were inside when the building collapsed.” she explained, pulling a chair closer and sitting down beside me. “By the time we got a rescue team in there, you were unconscious and pinned under the debris.” Tara’s voice wavered slightly, and she quickly looked away, as if embarrassed to show how much the whole thing had shaken her.

“You’ve been out for a while.” Her tone was a little lighter now, a hint of humor breaking through. “Can’t believe you’d scare me like that. Do you know how annoying it was waiting around here?”

A faint chuckle escaped me, though it quickly turned into a wince.

“I should let the doctors know you’re awake. They’ll want to check you over.”

I gave a slow nod, already feeling exhaustion pulling at me again, but I didn’t want her to worry. “Go ahead.” I murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, the room fell silent again, and I found myself staring at the ceiling, fighting the familiar feeling of emptiness that came whenever I was alone. I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath.

I wished Sylus were here. There was no way he could just walk into a hospital like any normal person.

I was about to close my eyes again when I heard a soft tapping on the window. My eyes snapped open, and my heart skipped a beat as I turned toward the sound. There, perched on the narrow ledge just outside the window, was a black crow. Mephisto.

I struggled to sit up, limping a little as I reached out to unlock the window. It slid open with a creak, and Mephisto hopped inside, a small bundle of wildflowers clutched in his beak. They were ragged and windblown, a little wilted from the journey, but I could tell they’d been picked carefully.

I took the flowers gently from Mephisto’s beak, my hands trembling slightly. There was a small note tied around the stems with a piece of dark string. I untied it and read the familiar handwriting: “Since I can’t be there. Take care of yourself. – S.”

Sylus couldn’t come to see me himself, but he’d sent Mephisto instead. His way of saying he was there, still watching over me.

“Thank you.” I whispered

Mephisto tilted its head and gave a soft caw, as if acknowledging my words. Then, it took off out the window again.

I sank back against the pillows, holding the flowers close. It wasn’t the same as having Sylus here in person, but it was enough to know he was thinking of me.

———————————————————————

As I lay in the hospital bed, I reached for my phone on the side table and unlocked the screen. My fingers trembled slightly as I typed out a message to Sylus.

I hit send and waited, my heart beating a little faster than it should. The minutes dragged on, and I started to wonder if he'd even seen my message. But then, my device buzzed with his reply.

Typical Sylus.

The response came almost instantly, as though he'd been expecting my question.

I glanced back at the window, half expecting to see the crow still there. It made sense. Mephisto had always kept an eye on me, by Sylus’s command.

I stared at the screen, my chest tightening as I read his words.

There was a long pause before his next message arrived.

It was the closest thing to comfort I would get from him, even if he couldn't be here with me.

———————————————————————

The final paperwork was a blur, the nurse’s instructions fading in and out as I focused on keeping steady. I was bandaged up and aching from head to toe, but at least I was getting out of the hospital. They’d wanted to keep me a few days longer, but I’d insisted on leaving.

As soon as they handed me my things, I slipped into my jacket and headed outside.

When I pushed through the front doors, a figure was leaning casually against the side of the building, half hidden in the shadow cast by the streetlamp. Sylus. He looked up when he saw me.

“Sylus…” I said, managing a small smile as I walked over, but his expression was tense as he straightened up, his eyes quickly scanning over my injuries.

“You’re stubborn for a hunter.” he muttered, his tone flat, though I could tell by the way his eyes lingered on my face and my bandaged arm that he was probably worried.

“The hell are you doing out here so soon? You could barely stand a few hours ago.”

“They were going to keep me trapped in there another week,” I said, trying to sound lighter than I felt. “I couldn’t just stay there doing nothing.”

He gave me a sharp look, he slipped his arm around my shoulders, guiding me firmly to his car parked a few feet away.

“You’re barely out, and here you are, thinking you’re ready to run around already.”

I tilted my head, raising an eyebrow.

"Since when do you drive anything other than that death trap of yours?"

"Since I figured you might not be up for riding around on a motorcycle after getting half crushed under a building."

He helped me into the passenger seat, taking extra care to ensure I was settled in before closing the door. He didn’t say anything as he walked around and got in himself, but the silence felt heavy, like he was holding back from saying a thousand things.

We drove through the streets in silence until we reached the edge of the city. I realized where we were going the moment we turned onto a narrow road.

“Your place?” I asked, glancing over at him.

He kept his gaze on the road. “You’re not going home alone in that condition. Not happening.”

I knew better than to argue, so I just nodded.

When we finally arrived, he was already at my side, opening the car door before I could even move. I tried to slide out on my own, but he offered his hand, steady and warm, and before I could argue, he was lifting me out of the seat.

I groaned, shaking my head. “Sylus, I can walk. You don’t need to—”

“Too late, sweetie.” he smirked, his arms sliding under my legs as he pulled me up, holding me effortlessly in a bridal carry. “Just sit back and let me do this.”

I sighed, trying to hide the warmth creeping up my face. “I’m tough, you know.”

“I know you are.” He glanced down, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he carried me toward the door. “But you’re hurt, and besides,” he added, leaning closer, his voice softening, “sometimes, you need someone to take care of you.”

Inside, he led me to his room and gestured for me to sit on the bed. “Wait here. And don’t try moving around.”

I managed a small, sarcastic smile. “What, you think I’m going to run off?”

His gaze darkened. “You have a habit of being reckless.”

Before I could respond, he was already disappearing into the other room, returning moments later with a small first aid kit and a glass of water. He knelt beside me, unwrapping some of the bandages on my arm with practiced precision.

“I already saw the doctors for this.” I said, watching him closely. He ignored me, dabbing disinfectant on a fresh cut and glancing up with a glint of warning in his eyes.

“Clearly, they didn’t do a good enough job if you’re in this condition.” he replied, his tone clipped.

I sighed, not bothering to respond. Instead, I watched his hands move, careful but efficient, his expression focused as he replaced the bandages. He was so quiet, so steady, so… unlike his usual self. His eyes kept flicking up to meet mine, only for a second, before going back to my injuries.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” I murmured, not sure if I was talking to him or to myself.

He paused, his hands stilling for a moment, before he looked up, his expression unreadable. “And if I don’t, who will?”

I watched him as he worked, watching how he gently wrapped fresh gauze around my arm, tightening it carefully.

His fingers lingered over the bandage, as if making sure it wasn't too tight.

"Is this too tight?" he murmured, his gaze flicking up to meet mine.

"No... it's fine." I whispered, feeling my heart hammering in my chest. My words were barely a breath, and I wasn't sure if he heard me, but he continued anyway, his focus unbreakable.

"You can tell me if it hurts." he said softly, his gaze locking onto mine.

"It doesn't hurt." I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. But the truth was, all I can think about is how his fingers felt against my skin.

“You could have been killed.” he suddenly said, the faintest tremor in his voice. “And you didn’t think to tell me, or anyone, what you were dealing with out there?”

I looked down, feeling that familiar pang of guilt again.

“Tell me next time before you go off on one of these suicide missions.” he snapped, his jaw tight. “Or better yet, stay out of places where buildings collapse on you.”

“I don’t get to pick and choose which missions are dangerous.” I replied.

“And I’m supposed to sit back and just watch you throw yourself into the line of fire?” His voice was low, but I could hear the worry simmering beneath it.

He was silent for a moment, his expression hardening as he reached over to brush a strand of hair from my face.

“And next time, you’re telling me about this kind of mission. I don’t care if you think it’s nothing.”

My expression softened as I looked up at him

“I’m okay now.” I whispered.

He stared at me for a moment before he gave a reluctant nod.

“Try to rest here. I’ll get you some fresh clothes.” he said, guiding her down gently. “I’m guessing you don’t want to stay in those all night.”

I took the bundle of soft, comfortable clothes he offered.

“Thank you, Sylus.”

His lips quirked into a gentle smile, running his fingers lightly through my hair, guiding me to lie back against the bed.

“Enough fighting it, sweetie.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You need to rest.”

I started to protest, but he pressed a finger gently to my lips, shaking his head. “No arguments,” he said softly. “Just close your eyes.”

He pulled a blanket over me, his hands lingering as he tucked it around my shoulders, and as my breathing slowed, I felt his fingers brush my cheek, tracing gentle patterns along my skin. The last thing I saw was him watching me, his expression filled with something I couldn’t quite place, a mix of worry, relief, and maybe… something else, something deeper.

“Sleep.” he whispered, his voice a barely audible murmur. “I’m not going anywhere.”

———————————————————————

The soft rise and fall of her breathing filled the room. Sylus sat beside her, one leg folded over the other, his arms crossed as he watched her sleep. In the dim light, she looked peaceful, a stark contrast to the worry that had been etched into her face earlier. He’d seen her like this before years ago.

He could still remember that night, when she’d slipped through his fingers.

He reached out almost instinctively, brushing his fingers against her cheek. She didn’t stir, but his touch softened, lingering there, feeling the warmth of her skin against his fingertips.

Unable to bear it, he slipped his arms around her, drawing her close, careful not to wake her. She was warm, her head resting against his chest, her body relaxed in his embrace. He pressed his cheek against her hair, letting himself take in her scent, the steady beat of her heart.

“You don’t get to do this to me again.” he whispered, his voice rough, barely audible even to himself. “Not this time. I won’t lose you. Not again.”

if you made it this far thank you sm for reading! I appreciate you feel free to request ♡

[raven-cincaide]

Post Canon! Yuuji wants to be a university student. He says that after all the war and loss he needs to catch up on rest and just be human- like the rest of them. He blames Nobara’s insatiable nagging about ‘finally being around people with taste’ and excuses it by saying that Megumi needs to find someone to love- whether the brooding guy wants it or not. However, in truth he misses the carefree school life. And he knows they all need a break from curses. So, after a lot of nagging from his side, the trio sent in their uni applications minutes before the deadline. 

Post Canon! Yuuji is dead set on living his best life in the coming three years. To study “something” while attending every book and nerd club with Megumi, every frat party and adventure with Nobara, and hell, maybe show off some of his god-given sports skills he shunned in high school. After all, girls still dug that sort of thing even at uni- the entire ‘jocks’ and ‘athletes’ persona, right?! 

Post Canon! Yuuji is determined to experience everything being a ‘normal guy’ could get him. He intends to make new friends, be social, live life and get laid as much as possible. Be single and date until he is sick of romance. But most importantly, he wants these three years to be about him, his wants, his needs, and to be a bit goddamn selfish for once. 

At least, that is the plan he declares to his friends as they step onto campus, Nobara and Megumi rolling their eyes at him before heading to get their schedules. While Post Canon! Yuuji headed straight to the housing office because he’d rather be Sukuna’s vessel again than drive two hours daily from campus to the Jujutsu dorms. 

Post Canon! Yuuji sees you, the administrative assistant so far from his usual type, and instantly knows his plans go straight out the window. He shuffles closer to you and the large desk you’re seated at, mouth dry and hands shaking like a teenager as he places his papers and ID on the table before you. He greets you with a shaky smile he hopes doesn’t look like a grimace. “H-Hi! I’m here for house- housing!” God, he sounds like such a noob. 

Post Canon! Yuuji can’t help the genuine grin that splits his face as you flash him a look that so clearly reads ‘obviousely’ before typing away at the computer. The way you act instantly reminds him of Megumi and Nobara, and he feels more at ease around you. 

Then, addressing him like an idiot feels familiar and almost like coming home: “Here is your copy of the contract and the key. You’re in the main dorms, in a single room on the second floor. recycling at the entrance, and the kitchen at the end of the same hall.” You explain, pointing out the location of his room on a map and then the location of the kitchen as if he was so helpless he wouldn’t be able to find it without your guidance.

 “Anything else?” You ask yet it sounds more like a common phrase you utter, expecting a ‘no’ and turning back to your computer to prepare for the next poor sod with a task a glorified monkey could do

But Post Canon! Yuuji isn’t ready to let you go. He wants more of your attention, so he says the first thing on his mind; ”Aww, man, a dorm room? Are you sure? I-I mean, I’m certain I booked a flat!-” Yuji rushes to put on his biggest puppy dog eyes- the kind Nobara says makes him look like a wet dog- “Can you check again? Please? Me and my friends are not from around here, and If I’ve fucked up on housing- man they’ll kill me–” Yuuji rushes out a full-on water-works story, he’s even impressed with himself, maybe he should take up theatre.

Or not, but hey at least it keeps your attention on him.

Post Canon! Yuuji drinks in you and studies every feature of you. From the dark daggers you glare at him, then to the way your eyes grow mild with pity, to how you bite your lips in thought until he’s sure he’ll recognise you anywhere, just by your looks or voice alone.

“I’m sorry, you booked a dorm room, and no flats are available at the moment” you put on that fake work-voice that instantly makes Yuuji’s face fall. He likes your real voice- mean tone and all- a lot better. 

Post Canon! Yuuji looks like a kicked puppy as he slowly gathers his stuff from your desk. He barely registers the look of surprise on your face, as if you expected him to talk back to you or pester you instead of politely accepting your words the way he does. But he notes how your expression shifts into hesitation and finally determination. 

Post Canon! Yuuji is about to leave when you clear your throat to get his attention. Then, you lean over the desk separating, you two. “You know..” your voice is quiet, clearly not wanting the gathering students in the lobby to hear you, ��Not all the apartment keys are gathered yet so there could still come in a cancellation in the next few days... you’re welcome by to check-” 

Post Canon! Yuuji grins widely- the widest he has grinned in many years. “I’ll be here tomorrow!” he declares before being forced to leave your small office as your boss draws your attention away. But Yuuji swears to himself he will be there tomorrow, the day after, and the next day after. As long as it means he can talk to you, if only for a little bit. 

But first,Post Canon! Yuuji needs to figure out what to do if he actually gets a flat through you. Could he bribe Nobara and Megumi to share the costs with him? Maybe post a ‘room for rent’ ad?

Ohh, well, Post Canon! Yuuji decides, with a skip in his step, he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there. After all, he reasons, you have to do some insane things for love, right?! 

Author note: Thank you so so much, @ravester, for asking for a Yuuji-centric post canon hcs I hope this meets your expectations <3

And for the rest of the wonderful readers, what do you think? We have a Megumi one and a Yuuji one, do we need a Nobara one as well?

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All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

[nanamiscocksleeve]

The Office Pet Part 4

warnings: MDNI, pet play, name-calling, exhibitionism, oral (fem receiving), women on women This fic does not mean I think Kusakabe would be bad in bed, but there aren't many other men left. NOT PROOFREAD. I may have stolen some concepts from @anonimusunnoaniswriting

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

“Kusakabe, why are you taking so long?” Kento gives the brunette man a withering look as he sees your unsatisfied state.

“He’s eating me wrong!” You complain, and Gojo snickers. You had been happy and warm, snuggled with Gojo and Higuruma’s pets when a sudden phone call had all the men gathering in the same room. 

“Were you aware he was coming today?”

“No, it was a completely unprompted visit. He said something about a welfare check.”

“On the pets?”

“Yes. I mean it’s a relatively new allowance. Makes sense that he’d want to see if it’s being implemented well.”

Amidst all the chatter, Kento had gently patted your head, trying to rouse you. “My sweet little pet. Can I ask you for a favor?” He pushes back locks of your pretty hair, his heart melting as your eyes turn from the fuzzy haze of sleep into alertness. “I’m sorry to wake you, but our CEO is arriving shortly. He’s bringing his pet as well. We’re worried about Kusakabe. He hasn’t eaten pussy in a long time and if he fails to satisfy the CEO’s pet they might take away the office pet allowance altogether.”

He scoops you up, the flimsy miniskirt of the lingerie you’re wearing draping over Kento’s forearm. “Do you mind letting him practice on you? You smell so delightful little pet.” Kento pressed a kiss to your forehead and you glowed at his affection. Kento had placed you gently on Gojo’s cleared desk and slipped off the lacy panties, exposing your pussy to Kusakabe, who stood looking nervous. 

“Geez Atsuya, it doesn’t have teeth,” Higuruma goaded him, and the room erupted into laughter, both men and pets. “Seriously he keeps looking at it like it’s going to bite him. It’s soft, squishy. Now stop acting like we’re throwing you to the wolves. It’s a harmless little pussy, and if you fail in this, the CEO is going to come down hard on you. His pet isn’t something you can leave unfinished. 

Atsuya had shakily approached you, and you glance up at Kento who’s hovering by your head, gently massaging your breasts to get your blood humming. Atsuya’s fingers are clumsy as he parts your folds. His warm tongue darts out, but it didn't take long for you to realize he had no idea what he was doing. He kept missing your clit, even though it was right there, peeking out from between your folds, and he failed to listen to your cues, the little happy chirps falling deaf on his ears as he tongue swirled haphazardly over random areas of your core. 

Kento picks up on your discomfort immediately. “Atsuya I swear to God if you ruin this for all of us just because you don’t know how to eat pussy-”

“Show me how!” Kusakabe blurts in panic. Gojo and Higuruma sigh and approach the table. Kento spreads your folds and points to the swollen tissue at the top of your mound. “See that? That’s her clit. Maybe try licking that instead of shoving your tongue everywhere else.”

Kento spits on his fingers and brings them to your clit, massaging the nub, drawing an immediate mewl of happiness from you. “See? Her face makes it obvious. You have about 5 minutes to prove you can eat her out correctly or else you’ll have to go home for the day. We’ll make up an excuse to tell the CEO.”

“I don’t know how he missed that,” Gojo says, peeking at your folds. “Her clit is right there.”

“And this is her pussy.” Hiromi gently prods your hole and Kusakabe’s face blushes red. 

“I know!”

“Do you?”

“Ok enough! Let him try. We have a very short window to decide if Kusakabe is here or goes home for the day.”

“A little too late for that I’d say.”

Startled, all 4 men look at the door and see their CEO smiling smugly at them, his pet obediently next to him on the floor, wearing a long overcoat to hide the fact that she was only wearing lingerie underneath it. She had wide eyes and her hair was tied back into a ponytail. She was watching the scene with a keen observance, her smirk mirroring her master’s as she looked at Kusakabe. 

Suguru removes the leash from her collar and gives her ass a friendly pat. “Go play sweetheart.” She immediately moves forward to the cuddle pile where Gojo and Higuruma’s pets are seated. They waste no time in welcoming her, removing the trenchcoat and revealing lingerie that looked like shibari ropes, with barely any fabric covering her crotch or nipples. She playfully wriggles her ass and the two other pets take the cue, one of them gently spanking her while the other starts to touch her clit. Her noises of pleasure were punctuated with little yelps as she was spanked.

Suguru rolls up the leash and puts it in his coat pocket before entering the office. He appraises you, laid on your back looking flushed and irritable, your pussy on display to the whole room. Kusakabe immediately steps away so that he can get a better look. Suguru’s long hair tickles your abdomen as he leans over to check the little badge on your collar. He hmms as he reads the name and his eyes fixate on Nanami. 

“May I?” he asks, but it’s not really a request for permission. Nanami nods.

Suguru’s hot breath ghosts your thighs and you go perfectly still as his thumbs part your folds. Kusakabe’s spit still lingered and the raven-haired man tsks at the sight. “Most of the wetness here isn’t yours, is it pet?” He looks at you, and you hesitate. He cups your face. “I assure you no one will get in trouble.” You shake your head no. 

Suguru puts his nose between your folds and inhales deeply. “So sweet. I’d heard rumors about one of the pets smelling like candy down there. I didn’t think it was so accurate.” His tongue swirls around your clit and you let out a moan. He knew exactly what he was doing. Your eyes look up to glance at Kento’s face and he nods encouragingly, stroking your hair. The tip of his tongue gently nudges the little nub, going at it in patient circles, until you feel your core starting to drip again. 

Your hand involuntarily tangles into his beautiful hair and he chuckles, the noise muffled against your puffy sex. It might have been out of line, a pet reaching for a master’s hair without permission but Suguru was in a good mood today, so he allowed it. Your reaction to his mouth was all he needed to allow you that indulgence. You whimper, hips arching as his lips seal around your clit and suck, the pressure pushing you to the edge. You cum with a cry, your clit pulsing hotly inside his mouth while your core spasms in tandem. 

Suguru pulls away and wipes his mouth. “I hope that suffices as a decent demonstration.” His purple eyes fix on Kusakabe who shrinks. You lie on the table panting and Kento picks you up and places you with your playmates. Suguru’s pet lazily opens her eyes to glance at you, her pussy being serviced attentively by Higuruma’s pet. You’re entranced by the dreamy quality in her gaze and go over for a kiss, which she accepts with a delighted purr. 

“Are the pets serving their purpose?” Suguru occupies Gojo’s chair and looks at the men expectantly. 

“Indeed sir. They’re the joy of the office.” Satoru is the first to speak. 

“I see that their conditions in your office are a little…lackluster though.” Suguru’s eyes take in the plushy futons that have been laid out, not uncomfortable by any means but lacking the finesse he’d been expecting. “Perhaps I can fix that. I’ll give each of you a pet expenditure card for their needs. Start by upgrading their office quarters, but you can also use it for other things; hair, nails, makeup, lingerie, toys. I didn’t push so hard for office pets to have them living in basic conditions.”

The statement was rather mindboggling considering the futons were covered in sheets that had an impossible threadcount, and all the pets wore collars made from either gold or platinum, and had at least one jewel embedded in it that exceeded 10 carats. How much luxury was Suguru’s pet living in that he considered their lives to be basic?

“That’s so kind of you Geto-sama.” Nanami bows. “Truly unexpected.”

Suguru’s eyes fall on his pet who was close to a soft orgasm, her moans muffled by your mouth on hers. She cums with a mewl, her back arching as the pleasure exploded in her, then opens her eyes. Suguru pats his lap and she eagerly crawls over to him, snuggling and allowing him to securely hold on to her using the shibari style lingerie wrapping around her. 

“Did you enjoy that?” Suguru pets the woman affectionately under the chin and she melts into his touch. “Do you want something else?” She nods as though she already knew what he had in store for her. “Take it then.”

Suguru continues talk to the men as his pet starts to undo his zipper, pulling out his long cock and turning on her kness so that she’s facing the crowd while he talks. “Office pets are our best resource to prevent burnout and stress.” His voice hitches for a brief second as his pet slowly sinks onto him, then starts to ride him, her tits bouncing.

Kusakabe lets out a muffled cough, trying not to ogle the sight. The 3 other men look unruffled and continue to listen. Suguru’s large hand grabs onto a bunch of the ropes at the back of the woman’s lingerie, allowing her to move at angles that weren’t possible when seated on another’s lap on your knees.

“They provide us with companionship and endless joy and pleasure. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the improvement in the numbers since the office pet allowance was enabled. That speaks volumes.” He glances at his pet who flushed and clearly enjoying herself as she fucks him. “Slow down.” He grips the ropes tighter, controlling how fast she was moving. “You don’t want to overstimulate yourself.”

“But I think they deserve the best of everything. Their devotion is endless after all.” He squeezes one of his pet’s nipples causing her rhythm to falter. Geto lifts her off his cock slightly by the fabric ropes, steadying her, then loosens his hold so that she can push back down. 

“I’m also concerned that our newest hire seems to lack the knowledge needed to keep a pet satisfied.” His eyes rove over Kusakabe and the other men turn to glare at him. “Has he really never eaten pussy before?”

“Of course I have!” Kusakabe splutters suddenly. “Sir.” He adds hastily. 

“Clearly not with any skill. Nanami’s pet was half dry by the time I got to her.” Silence fills the room, except for the sound of Geto’s pet moaning, her round ass slapping against his thighs each time she moved. “My advice to you Atsuya, is to take your time and learn the material. Do you have a girlfriend?”

He shakes his head no. “No wonder. But I suppose that means we won’t have to worry about the office pet allowance being applicable to you yet.” Geto grunts as his pet slams down on him, and before he could get in another word, she lowers herself completely, eyes closed in ecstasy as she takes Suguru’s load into her.

“Well done sweetheart.”Geto pants and strokes her back. He helps her off his lap and sets her down on the floor and she wanders off to rejoin the other women. He quickly produces a handkerchief and wipes himself clean before continuing.

“The rest of you though, I assume you’re keeping your pets satisfied? Giving them high quality meals? Ensuring they get enough water? Regular massages? They use their bodies to please us so the least you can do is make sure they don’t have any aches and pain.”

“Of course Geto-sama,” Higuruma reassures him. “All this is being done.”

“Excellent.” He looks at the pets. His was being cleaned by Gojo’s pet while you had her head in your lap, leisurely stroking her cheeks and pressing kisses to her forehead. Geto observes the smitten way his pet looks at you. 

“Come gentlemen. Let’s have lunch.” He tucks his spent cock back into his pants. “I’ll make sure something is sent up for the pets to eat.”

As they walk, Geto lingers behind and catches hold of Nanami. “How do you feel about setting up a private playdate? My pet and yours?”

Kento’s hazel eyes look intrigued. “I would have to ask her, but sure. Any reason, Geto-sama?”

“My pet seems to have taken a liking to her. And whatever my pet wants, she gets.”

@aether-seawolf @makingtimemine @snwvie @facelessfionna @sweetskozume @theimmortalbuns @supernaturalbaesduh @marusatonanhin @pwd54gr54 @brekkersgf

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[tiramisuucakeee]

MINECRAFT KITTEN ★

( high school! reader x highschool gamer! niki )

IN WHICH: niki, always immersed in games, teasing you for forgetting your minecraft cat, couldn’t help but notice you had a new friend—someone who wasn’t him. but it wasn’t until one night at a festival, standing beside you under the fireworks, that he finally realized something. and for once, he didn’t need a screen to understand what was going on.

read more !

a loud screech echoed through your headphones as you watched niki's avatar fall off the cliff, crashing to the ground and losing all of their health in the process.

"ain't no way-" you started, but he quickly cut you off, telling you to shut up, not in the mood for any teasing. it was 3:57 a.m. on a school night, but that was the least of your concerns.

"this is all your fault, i told you i didn’t like this world," niki grumbled, leaning back in his gaming chair, his eyes scanning the screen as he re-entered the world.

"zero game in minecraft, zero game in real life," you mumbled under your breath, but having a microphone connected to your earphones was absolutely no help, since he heard every word you said.

"you're so not funny, i get tons," niki clicked his tongue, watching the village come into view as he sprinted toward it.

"yeah, tons of bad grades," you laughed, taking your eyes off the screen for a moment. a soft click echoed from outside, and you noticed a light flicker on from beneath your door, casting a faint glow across the floor.

as he was about to curse you out, the sound of footsteps creaked through the house. you quickly lowered the screen’s brightness and muttered, "my mom’s awake, i’ll see you tomorrow, niki, bye!"

"but wait, what about our cat-" he started, but you disconnected from the discord call, your modded avatar vanishing from the minecraft world he’d created. now the only thing he had left to do, was to sleep, as you were gone.

the next day came pretty quickly, during lunch, you made your way to his classroom. your found him sitting at his desk, hunched over, eyes glued to his nintendo switch. he barely noticed as you slid into the seat in front of him, pulling out your lunch and setting it down.

"so, you really dipped on me last night?" he said without looking up, moving the controller of his switch with a little more force than necessary, as he started fighting a random huge pokémon with his small pikachu in pokémon sword and shield.

"my mom was awake," you replied, popping the lid off your tupperware and stabbing a piece of meat. "you know how it is."

he clicked his tongue but finally glanced up at you. "yeah, yeah, whatever. still can’t believe you left me hanging like that. our cat was waiting for us, too."

you raised an eyebrow. "so? he barely even likes you. not even my cat in real life likes your annoying ass." you extended the fork with food towards him, as he let you feed him. when niki was concentrated in his game, he could shut out the whole entire world, and completely forget about anything. that was the reason why your mom always packed you extra food for him, knowing you were the only one who got him to pay a little less attention to the screen.

you pulled the fork back, watching as niki chewed without a care in the world, still immersed in the game. his focus was intense, and the soft noises of pikachu screaming an attack was the only sound that seemed to break through his concentration.

"you're not even listening, are you?" you teased lightly, watching as he barely glanced at you before nodding in acknowledgment. his thumbs were a blur against the controller.

he smirked, clearly unfazed. "i’m listening. you were saying something about how a little demon cat doesn't like me." his tone was casual, like he was just humoring you. but there was that hint of curiosity in his voice, the kind that meant he was listening more than he let on.

“mr. whiskers is nice,” you scoffed playfully, changing the subject. "anyway, there's this festival coming up, since tuesday of next week is a free day," you said, trying to sound casual. "and a friend of mine, a year older, invited me to go with him and his friends."

niki didn’t take his eyes off the screen, but you could tell his attention was piqued by the way his fingers slowed on the controller. he didn't exactly say anything right away, so you continued, trying to sound casual. "everyone is talking about how it'll be fun, so it's gonna be pretty packed."

"who’s this friend?" niki asked, finally glancing at you, his voice sounding just a bit sharper than usual. it wasn’t so much that he was interested, but more like he was curious in his own way.

"remember, i’m the manager of the school boy’s volleyball team?" you said, leaning back a bit. "that’s how i met the captain, won- i mean, jungwon. he’s nice. a year older, but-“

"won?" niki interrupted, his tone suddenly flat, as if the nickname itself had an edge to it. he looked at you then, eyes narrowing just a fraction. his attention on the game was gone now, replaced by something else. "you guys close or something?”

you raised an eyebrow, sensing his change in mood. "close? no. he's just... he's just a friend. we're all friends, won, jake, kai, taehyun and i, you know. i hang out with the team often." you tried to brush it off, but you couldn't help the feeling that niki wasn’t as casual as he made it seem. it was like you’d hit a nerve.

niki didn’t respond immediately. his fingers paused mid-game, and his gaze lingered on you for a few moments. the air between you two shifted, and even though he tried to mask it, you could tell he wasn’t thrilled at hearing you talk about another guy.

"so, are you going?" he asked, a little more distant than before, but you knew that tone. it was his way of pretending not to care. still, there was something about it that made you smile to yourself. he didn’t like you talking about other guys, but he wasn’t going to admit it.

"i dunno," you replied, shrugging it off. "i might. i’ll see if it’s actually worth going, he said there will be fireworks, and different kinds of games, and a lots of stalls."

niki didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t argue either. instead, he gave a half shrug, his eyes flicking back to the screen. "i’ll think about going too," he said, and even though his words were dismissive, you knew he was quietly processing it.

you let out a quiet laugh, not sure if you were teasing him or just amused at how easily he shut down the subject. before you could comment, he stood up suddenly, stretching his arms out like he had something else on his mind. "come on," he said, his usual aloofness creeping back in. "let’s go to the vending machines. i’m thirsty."

you raised an eyebrow at him, watching as he walked toward the classroom’s door without another word. "you know, you’re acting pretty weird right now," you said, following him down the hallway. "it’s just a guy."

niki gave you a side glance, but his expression was unreadable again. "i’m not acting weird," he muttered, as if that would somehow make it true. "i don’t care about it, i’m just thirsty."

you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, knowing exactly what was going on. niki was reserved, always keeping his emotions tightly locked up, while you were, well, the complete opposite. a social butterfly who loved to stir things up and keep things light. but you knew him well enough to sense that he cared more than he let on, even if he was never going to say it out loud.

two days later, you were at volleyball practice, chatting with the team during a break. the gym buzzed with the sound of sneakers squeaking on the polished floor, the occasional thud of a ball being spiked, and the light banter between the guys. jungwon, the captain and libero, had just tried some ridiculous move, a roll across the floor in a desperate attempt to save the ball, and you couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"wow, amazing, won," you teased, grinning. "really thought you were going to pull off a cool dive, huh?"

jungwon groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood up, his face slightly flushed. "it was supposed to be a dive, but the ball wasn't where i thought it was." he shot you a sideways glance. "i thought you were supposed to be the manager, not my personal critic."

"hey, i'm just helping you improve your style," you said, playfully flicking his shoulder. the guys around you, jake, kai, and taehyun, all chuckled, having seen the whole thing unfold.

"style? that was more like a disaster," kai, the middle blocker, teased, tossing the ball to taehyun.

jake laughed too. "yeah, but i'll give him credit, he looked really elegant rolling around on the floor."

jungwon threw his hands up in defeat. "you're all jerks, you know that?" but the smile on his face gave him away.

as the team continued to joke around, you stayed close to the group, leaning against the bleachers. you could feel jungwon inch a little closer as he joked back, and you teased him some more, throwing playful comments his way. it was all casual, but you couldn't help noticing how natural it felt being around the guys, especially with jungwon close enough that his shoulder brushed yours every now and then.

just then, the doors to the gym swung open with a loud creak, and niki walked in, his eyes scanning the room. as soon as he saw you, his gaze darkened, and he made a beeline for the entrance to the court, his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, his expression closed off.

you immediately spotted him and froze for a second. your heart did that funny little skip it always did when you saw him, but you quickly forced it back down, trying to play it cool. "hey," you called out, waving as you approached him. "you never come to practice, what's up?"

niki glanced at you, but his eyes quickly darted to the group of guys around you. you could tell he wasn't exactly thrilled by the scene. "nothing," he muttered, but his voice was a little more clipped than usual. "just wanted to ask you something."

you raised an eyebrow. "what's going on? you look like you've seen a ghost."

niki didn't answer right away. his gaze flicked over to jungwon and the others for a second before his eyes landed back on you. "you told me you'd go to the game store with me today," he said, his tone low but definitely a little frustrated. "i left you a hundred messages, but you completely forgot."

you blinked, momentarily thrown off by his bluntness. "oh, crap," you muttered, cursing under your breath. "i'm so sorry, i totally spaced and forgot to tell you about staying later. i got caught up here with practice, we’re meeting another school tomorrow and-"

"i know," niki interrupted, his voice flat. "it's fine." but you could tell it wasn't fine. it never was with niki. when he said it was fine, that usually meant he was irritated and pretending it wasn't a big deal.

you winced, guilt crawling up your spine. "hey, i really am sorry, okay? i didn't mean to leave you hanging, i promise i’ll make it up to you."

there was a moment of silence, then niki sighed, looking around at the guys. he seemed to hesitate for a second before he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. "whatever. just don't forget again."

you nodded quickly, catching the faint flicker of irritation in his eyes. "i won't. promise. how about we walk back home together alright? i’ll buy you something from the convenience store. practice ends in about fifteen minutes."

niki glanced at the gym’s double doors, then back at you. "fine," he said shortly, but there was a hint of resignation in his voice, like he was done with the whole thing but didn't want to make it a bigger issue. "i’ll wait for you."

you gave him a quick smile, trying to make up for it. "thanks for understanding, niki." he didn't respond, but the tension in his posture seemed to ease just a little as he turned to head up to the highest bleachers. your eyes followed close behind, glancing back at the guys, who were still laughing and messing around.

later that week, friday evening, you were sitting at home, boredom creeping in as you scrolled through your phone. without much else to do, you hopped onto discord and checked your friends list, only to see niki’s activity status showing he’d been on genshin impact for the last 14 hours.

you couldn’t help but laugh a little, shaking your head at how dedicated, or maybe just obsessed, he could get over things. the thought of him locking himself in his room all day just to farm for a character was both amusing and slightly concerning.

without a second thought, you tapped on his profile and hit the video call button. it rang for a few moments before niki’s face appeared on screen, his hair slightly messy, eyes half-lidded, and an unmistakable paleness to his skin.

"hey," you said, raising an eyebrow. "what’s going on with you? you look like you’ve been through a war zone."

niki groaned, clearly annoyed at the interruption, but there was a slight rasp in his voice when he answered. "i’m sick," he muttered, sounding a little congested. "i already told you, didn’t feel like going to school today." his face scrunched up as he wiped his nose, clearly not in the best shape.

you squinted at him through the screen. he looked like he wasn’t exaggerating. his usual energy was gone, replaced with a tiredness that made him look more exhausted than usual. "sick? are you sure?" you asked, your tone softening. "you look like you haven’t slept in days. you should be resting."

niki rolled his eyes, clearly not wanting to hear it. "i’m fine," he muttered, shifting the camera angle to show his screen. genshin impact was open, and he was in the middle of a mission, talking with npc’s. "i’m just trying to farm primos for xiao."

you let out an exasperated sigh, shaking your head. "niki, seriously? you’re sick, and you’re still playing that stupid game?" you almost couldn’t believe it. you were the one who got him to play hoyoverse games, but he was the one who ended up playing more than you. "you’re gonna make yourself worse."

he looked back at you, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, though it was a little strained. "well, what else am i supposed to do? i’m already stuck at home. i’m on five pity, and the banner is coming out tomorrow." he sighed.

you rolled your eyes. "fine, fine. but if you’re so determined to farm, i’ll help you. just rest, okay? i’ll log into your account from here, get your missions done and farm domains."

niki gave you a half-smile, knowing full well he was probably better at the game than most people, but also knowing you were ridiculously good at it. "you’d do that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"yeah," you said, leaning back against your chair and grabbing your keyboard to search for the game. "go make yourself some soup or something. i’ll get you all your xiao mats up, emo boy."

"don’t call me that. i hate that you’re better at this than me," niki muttered under his breath, but you could hear the faint amusement in his voice. "whatever, i still beat you at mario kart. just get me the stuff already. i need it."

"damn, not even a thank you," you said mockingly, already loading up your own game. you shot him one last look through the phone, noticing the way his shoulders seemed to relax just a little, like he was grateful for the help, even if he didn’t show it.

"thank you," he said quietly, the exhaustion finally showing in his eyes as he leaned back in his chair, as he hoped he would get better soon, but nothing seemed to go his way these past couple of days.

niki spent the whole weekend locked up in his room, barely able to escape his mother and sister’s watchful eye. they insisted he stay inside, rest, and recover. especially with the festival coming up and you telling them about inviting him. "y/n won’t want you being sick," she had told him, her voice gentle but firm. "you could use this as a chance to make more friends too, with the volleyball kids she hands out with."

niki, feeling exhausted but too tired to argue, spent the day in his computer or scrolling aimlessly through his phone, but his mind kept drifting to you and the festival. he knew you’d probably end up ditching him for jungwon. after all, you two were practically inseparable, always surrounded by people. you were made for that world, always the social extrovert, flitting from one group to the next, effortlessly fitting in.

and jungwon? he was just like you, outgoing, friendly, always in the center of everything. it made sense, right? you two should end up together. he was a perfect match for you.

but then there was niki, sitting in his room, playing games, not bothering with social stuff. he was reserved, quiet, the guy who stayed on the sidelines and didn’t need to be the center of attention. maybe he wasn’t made for your world. maybe he wasn’t even someone you’d think twice about, even if you told him you considered him your best friend.

it was a stupid thought, but it lingered in the back of his mind until the buzz of his phone broke him out of it.

he glanced down and saw your name on the screen. ‘what now?’ he thought, his heart giving an odd little flutter in his chest, but he quickly opened the message anyway.

‘hey, guess what? i got you the zelda game card you wanted for your nintendo! it’s been out of stock for a while, but i managed to grab one for you. i know you’ve been looking for it! i hope you get better in time for the festival, and for this to cheer you up. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡’

niki’s eyes widened as he stared at the picture of the game attached to your message. it was exactly what he’d wanted, and he had no idea how you’d gotten it. he hadn’t mentioned it to anyone in a while, so how did you even know? his chest tightened. it wasn’t just the gift. it was the fact that you remembered. you didn’t do this for anyone else. not for jungwon, not for some other guy. you did it for him.

and then, as he stared at the message, it hit him all at once.

you cared. you cared about him. and that made him feel... well, he wasn’t sure exactly how it made him feel, but it felt different, like you were someone who saw him in a way others didn’t. not just as the quiet guy who played video games, but as someone worth thinking about, someone worth doing something nice for.

niki’s face flushed. ‘damn it,’ he thought, running a hand through his hair. he liked you. he liked you a lot more than he realized, and that realization hit him harder than he was ready for. he quickly typed back, his fingers moving almost too fast for him to keep up with his own thoughts.

‘you didn’t have to do that… but thanks. really. it means a lot.’

he stared at the message for a second, unsure if he should add anything more. but he left it at that, feeling a little awkward, a little embarrassed by how vulnerable he felt. he put his phone down on the bed, his heart still racing in his chest. he tried to shake off the feeling, but it didn’t work. something had shifted. and now, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

it wasn’t just the way you smiled, or how your eyes softened when you spoke to him, it was the little things. the way you noticed when his mood shifted, how you always seemed to understand him without needing to say a word. you made him feel seen in ways no one else had, and he didn’t know when it had happened, but somewhere between your shared moments of silence and laughter, his heart had quietly slipped into a place he wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

you cared about him. and niki, with a soft blush creeping up his neck, was finally ready to admit it to himself. he was head over heels for you. and he had to make sure you knew about it, only, he had no idea how.

tuesday night, the festival was in full swing, the park buzzing with life. strings of twinkling lights hung overhead, casting a warm, golden glow over everything below. bright red lanterns danced in the evening breeze, and the distant hum of music mixed with the laughter of families enjoying the night.

everywhere you looked, there were games, colorful booths with prizes, spinning wheels of fortune, and carnival rides that lit up the dark sky with neon colors. the sweet scent of cotton candy, roasted chestnuts, and sizzling food wafted through the air, drawing people toward the food stalls. couples walked hand in hand, kids ran around excitedly, and the whole scene felt like something out of a dream.

you stood at the entrance of the park, your fingers tapping nervously against your phone. the boys from the volleyball team were around you, chatting and laughing, but your attention kept drifting back to the screen. you had dressed up in your prettiest clothes, hoping to catch his attention. you had even taken the time with your makeup, but despite your effort, you couldn’t shake the growing feeling of disappointment.

you had texted him. called him. multiple times. but niki hadn’t replied, hadn’t even read your messages. the little ‘delivered’ icon beside each one seemed to mock you, and with each passing minute, the knot in your stomach tightened. it was starting to feel like he had bailed on you completely, leaving you standing there, vulnerable, in front of your friends.

jungwon, who had been standing just a little further from you with a lighthearted grin on his face, seemed to sense your unease. his gaze softened as he walked over, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “hey,” he said, his voice calm and reassuring, “i know you were hoping niki would show up, but… don’t let it ruin the night, okay? you look great. and we’re all here with you. it’s the festival, after all.”

you nodded, trying to smile, but the weight of your disappointment was hard to shake. jungwon noticed, his eyes sparkling with the familiar warmth that made him so easy to be around. “and if it helps,” he continued, “i’ll buy you and the guys some strawberries with chocolate and marshmallows. how about that? it’ll lighten up the mood.”

you laughed softly, a small but genuine smile tugging at your lips. “you know me too well.”

jungwon’s grin widened. “it’s my job to know my friends,” he said with a wink. “come on, let’s enjoy the festival. there’s still plenty of fun to be had.” his words were comforting, but there was a part of you that still couldn’t help but feel that small sting of disappointment. you tried to push it aside, focusing instead on the atmosphere around you. on the lights, the laughter, and the simple joy of being surrounded by people who cared about you. maybe the night wouldn’t go exactly as you’d imagined, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t still be special.

just as you were about to nod and join the others, a sudden vibration from your phone made your heart skip a beat. it was a notification. niki had finally read your messages. your heart raced as you opened the chat, only to be met with a single, short text from him. ‘running late. konon didn’t like all of my clothing choices. said i looked too gloomy. be there soon.’

a sigh of relief escaped your lips, but it came with a tinge of guilt for doubting him in the first place. still, as you glanced up at the bright lights of the festival, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement. maybe niki was running late, but at least he wasn’t gone. and with the boys around you, it seemed the night was still full of promise.

"guess what?" you said, looking up at jungwon. "he’s on his way. niki’s coming."

jungwon gave you a knowing smile, his eyes sparkling. “that’s great, tell him we’re either at the food stalls or in line for a game. now, let’s get those strawberries, yeah?”

the group of you laughed and joked as you ate, the mood lightening with each bite. it felt good to be surrounded by your friends. even if niki had made you wait, the night was still shaping up to be fun. after finishing the strawberries, you all made your way toward the ferris wheel, the soft music from the ride drifting through the air. the line wasn’t too long, and the boys were excited, already bickering over who would be paired with who.

just as you were about to get in line, you saw him. niki. he came rushing toward the crowd, his footsteps quick, his eyes scanning the people. his hair was slightly messy, and he looked a little out of breath, like he had sprinted the whole way there. he looked around frantically, and just as he caught sight of your group, his expression softened, a small, sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“sorry, sorry,” he muttered, breathless, “konon and my mom made me change my clothes like a hundred times. i swear, she’s always making me late for everything.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the tension from earlier melt away. "it’s okay," you said with a smile, but your heart was racing a little faster now, just from seeing him. "you made it."

niki gave you a quick nod, his eyes shifting to the boys around you. “hey. what’s up?” he greeted them with a relaxed wave. despite the rush, he seemed completely at ease now. it was like all the nervousness from earlier had disappeared. he wasn’t bothered by your friends anymore. he wasn’t worried about the fact that you were all together, laughing, sharing the night. instead, there was only one thing on his mind, you, and how pretty you looked tonight.

kai playfully clapped him on the back. “you’re so late, man, but glad you made it. the ride’s about to start. get in line, you go with y/n.”

niki gave a slight roll of his eyes, but there was no real frustration there. in fact, he was beaming, his gaze flickering back to you. for a moment, the world felt a little quieter, like everything around you had blurred out, and it was just the two of you standing there, with the bright lights of the festival surrounding you like a halo.

you glanced at him, and when his eyes met yours, there was something new in them. something more confident, something certain. niki smiled softly, and this time, it wasn’t that carefree grin he usually wore when he was teasing. this one was different. this one was filled with meaning.

“you look good tonight,” he said quietly, his words just for you.

your heart skipped, a smile tugging at your lips before you could stop it. “thanks,” you replied, your voice softer than usual. “you don’t look too bad yourself, niki.”

you and niki, along with the rest of the group, had eventually made your way into the ferris wheel, the towering structure glowing against the night sky. you could hear the soft creaking of the wheel as it spun, the occasional shout of excitement from people already on the ride. the boys were already joking around, kai teasing taehyun from the carriage ahead. but for you, the excitement was mixed with a twinge of unease.

you didn’t really like heights.

you were trying to keep calm, to play it cool, but you felt that familiar knot in your stomach tightening as you looked around. niki must have noticed, because when you both settled in, he shot you a quick glance.

“you okay?” he asked softly, his voice a mix of concern and teasing. “i know you’re not exactly a fan of this.”

you laughed nervously, trying to act nonchalant. “i’m fine. it’s fine,” you said, though your grip on the side of the carriage betrayed you.

niki raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced, but instead of saying anything more, he simply reached over and took your hand. his fingers intertwined with yours, offering comfort in that simple gesture. as the ride started moving, you felt your heart race a little, but his hand in yours made it feel a little more manageable. with him there, you could breathe just a little easier.

the carriage slowly ascended, and you tried to focus on the view, forcing yourself to look out at the twinkling lights of the festival below. but as the wheel climbed higher and higher, the world around you seemed to tilt, and you instinctively squeezed niki’s hand tighter. you could hear the distant laughter and chatter from the crowd, but the heights, those dizzying heights, made everything feel overwhelming.

“don’t worry, you’re safe with me,” niki murmured, his voice calm as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “i won’t let anything happen to you.”

his words, quiet and reassuring, helped settle some of the panic in your chest, though your heart still fluttered with nerves. he shifted slightly, leaning in closer as the ride made its way to the top, the festival sprawling beneath you like a patchwork of lights and colors. from up here, you could see everything, the food stalls, the carnival games, the laughter of families far below. it was beautiful, breathtaking, but the height still made your stomach churn.

as you reached the very top of the wheel, the carriage slowly came to a halt. for a moment, the ride felt suspended in time, like the entire world below you was frozen. you tried to focus on the view, but your heartbeat quickened, and your palms began to sweat.

then, suddenly, the speakers crackled, and a calm, neutral voice echoed from below. “we apologize for the inconvenience, but it seems the ferris wheel has experienced a slight malfunction. please remain seated. we will resolve the issue within the next few minutes.”

this had to be a sick joke.

your breath caught in your throat. a malfunction? the words hit you harder than they should have. panic surged in your chest as the wheel remained still, suspended high in the air. below, everything seemed so distant, too far away, and you were stuck up here, vulnerable and exposed.

niki immediately noticed the shift in your demeanor. his hand tightened around yours, and he moved closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. “hey, hey,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “it’s alright. it’s just a small problem. they’ll fix it. everything’s fine.”

but it didn’t feel fine. your mind raced, your breathing quickened, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. you hated being stuck in places like this, unable to move, unable to control anything.

niki must have sensed your fear, because without saying another word, he shifted closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. “i’m here,” he whispered, his voice steady. “nothing’s going to happen. just breathe, okay? i’ve got you.”

you tried to steady your breathing, but it was hard. the space around you felt so open, and you couldn't shake the sense of vertigo creeping up. but niki’s presence beside you was like an anchor, grounding you in a way nothing else could. his steady grip on your hand and his arm around you offered a sense of security, his warmth a comfort amidst the rising panic.

he didn’t let go of you. his fingers gently traced circles against your palm as he held you close, his voice soft but constant, reassuring you that everything would be okay “we’re fine,” he murmured. “just focus on me. focus on my voice, okay? i’m right here.”

you nodded, trying to calm your racing thoughts. his closeness, his steady presence, helped push back the panic that had threatened to consume you. the ride was still paused, but you felt a little more at ease with each passing second, comforted by the way he held you, by the way he made you feel safe in a place that usually made you feel so small and vulnerable.

and as you looked out at the view again, it wasn’t quite as overwhelming. it was still beautiful, and though the world was far below you, niki was there, right beside you. and for once, it didn’t feel so bad to be up here.

you leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his arm around your body and the gentle pressure of his hand still holding yours. it was strange, how in the midst of all that panic, just being near him made everything feel better.

after a few more seconds of silence, you glanced over at him, managing a small smile despite yourself. "if they take too long to fix this, we’re going to miss the fireworks," you said, trying to make light of the situation. the fireworks were supposed to start soon, a grand finale to the evening, and the thought of missing them made a small ache form in your chest.

niki chuckled softly, a light laugh that made the air feel a little less heavy. “you really do love your fireworks, huh?” he teased, nudging you gently with his shoulder. “don’t worry, i’m sure we’ll see them. they can’t keep us up here forever.”

you nodded, though you still felt a little uneasy, not sure how long this delay would last. but niki’s voice was steady, and the way he stayed close to you made everything feel just a little bit safer. as you sat there, the ferris wheel slowly swaying slightly in the breeze, something shifted inside you, something that had been building throughout the night.

you looked up at niki, his face soft in the dim light, his expression calm but genuine. his dark eyes, that familiar glint of mischief and warmth, were fixed on you, as if nothing else in the world mattered at that moment except being here with you. and you realized, for the first time, just how much you actually liked him.

it wasn’t just the teasing banter, or the way he made you laugh, or even the way he’d made you feel safe in the middle of your fear. it was something deeper, something you couldn’t quite put into words. the way he cared, the way he was always present, always ready to be there when you needed him.

you shifted slightly in your seat, feeling a little vulnerable with this realization, but you couldn’t hold it back any longer. your heart was beating a little faster, but it wasn’t out of panic this time. it was something else, something that made your stomach flutter and your chest feel lighter.

time seemed to stretch in that moment, like everything had slowed down just for the two of you. the music from the festival, the laughter, the buzz of excitement. all of it faded into the background. the only thing that mattered was the soft rhythm of your breathing and the way your hand felt in niki’s.

you couldn’t remember who moved first, whether it was him or you, but there was a magnetic pull between you, something undeniable. the space between you narrowed, and suddenly, your lips were meeting, gently at first, like a question, a hesitant step forward into the unknown.

it was a soft kiss, but it felt like everything. each tender graze of his lips against yours, a shiver of warmth spreading through your chest. feeling him so close to you. for a split second, everything else was lost. the heights, the festival, the malfunctioning ride. they all vanished. it was just you and him, a fleeting moment that felt like time had stopped. you were there with him, fully present, feeling a pulsing connection that surpassed any words.

then, just as quickly as it began, it ended. the kiss was gone, but the feeling remained, like a warm glow spreading through you. the suddenness of it all left you breathless, your chest still tingling, your heart still racing.

and then, like a mirror to the fluttering beat of your heart, the first firework burst in the sky behind you. the colors exploded in a brilliant rain of lights, reds, golds, blues, illuminating the dark sky. they filled the air with so much beauty, but it didn’t compare to the feeling that still lingered in the air between you and niki.

you pulled back a little, eyes meeting his. both of you were silent for a moment as the fireworks continued to light up the night. the air between you felt electric, the shortest kiss leaving you both with something you couldn’t shake, wanting more.

neither of you spoke, not yet. words weren’t needed. you could feel the energy between you, quiet but intense, like the fireworks themselves, a series of bright moments strung together in the vastness of the night.

niki’s fingers tightened around yours again, just a little, a silent reassurance that he was still there, that he was present. and in that moment, you felt the warmth of his hand grounding you, reminding you that this moment, this feeling, it was real. "look," he whispered, his voice softer than before, as another explosion of lights filled the sky. "we're in the middle of this."

you glanced at him again, his face illuminated by the fading lights, a soft smile playing on his lips as he looked out at the horizon. and in that moment, it felt like the world, and the whole sky was yours.

BTW: corny ass niki fic i loveeee it LMFAO. also, a thank you to xiao from genshin impact, and kozume kenma for inventing the nintendo switch.

EXTRA:

masterlist.

[oceantornadoo]

pockets of possessiveness (john price x lieutenant f!reader)

you knocked on his door with your pillow in hand, feet freezing on bare tile. after a second, you heard a gruff “come in”, and pushed open the door to the sight of your captain smoking a cigar with paperwork spread around him. he looked up at you syrup-slow, eyes dragging up and down your body.

“whose clothes are those?” you peeked down at the oversized tee and boxers you wore. “mine.” he grunted. “y’ make it a habit buyin’ shit that doesn’t fit.” you rolled your eyes, stomping over to the couch you came for. “yes, actually. i like to buy oversized shirts and men’s boxers are extremely comfortable and cheap.” his hat was off, which meant you could see the slight rise of his eyebrows, disbelief in his vision. “‘s long as they aren’t johnny’s.” you took a while to answer that, instead dropping your pillow on couch and making yourself comfy, taking out the blanket he tucked away in a box underneath. “‘m not dignifying that with a response.” a small smile tugged at his lips, fond affection spreading slowly. he turned his desk lamp away from you so the harsh glare was no longer in your eyes. “g’night, sweetheart.” you closed your eyes. “night, cap.”

it was way too early in the morning for someone to be bothering you on your day off. you felt a presence standing over you and groaned, hand reaching out to push him away. “go back to sleep, sweetheart. was jus’ sayin’ bye.” your hand landed on his bicep, tugging him down to crouch before you. blearily, you opened one eye, watching the movement of your hand travel to his neck, wrapping around the strands with his hair. he understood you immediately, moving closer til your foreheads touched. you sighed on contact, his smell of cigars and pine seeping into your skin. “got to go, baby. i’ll lock the door so y’ can sleep ‘s long as you want.” you whined a little, then acquiesced with a nod. “‘m not sleepin’ with johnny.” he let out a big sigh. “i know.” you were both silent for a bit, breathing in each other’s presence. for a second, you could imagine it was under different circumstances. with no ranks between you and only lazy sundays like this. instead, you dropped your hand and he rose up, pinching your hip in goodbye.

“y’r not goin’. it’s a suicide mission.” you huffed at his attitude, crossing your arms over your chest so he couldn’t see your hands trembling. “but it’s made for my skills, cap. why else would they assign it to the team?” you looked to the rest of your task force around the room, making eye contact with them individually. “anyone?” gaz tried to speak and you shut him up with a look, already knowing he was going to take his captain’s side. johnny was oddly silent, eyes tracing patterns on the floor. “captain’s right. ‘s yer death if y’ go.” ghost’s voice was low and gravelly in the silence of the room. that was it - overruled by your fellow lieutenant. with him on your captain’s side, you had no shot. “fine. i’ll just not do my job.” you avoided john’s gaze, instead staring a hole into the side of simon’s face. the idiot turned and faced you, cocking his head in silent argument.

i hate you

no you don’t

you’re wrong

you know i’m right

whatever. you’re still on my shit list.

the meeting ended and you beelined for the door. despite your fervent strides, john caught up with you, tugging you into the nearest room (your quarters), before you could run away. you unlocked the door without acknowledging him, letting him follow you into your sacred space and locking the door after him. “‘s for your safety, sweetheart.” you whipped around, pushing him into the door with a finger on his chest. “no, john, it’s for you. you not trusting me, not trusting my skills.” he grabbed your finger with his hand, dwarfing it in his rough warmth. “‘s not that i don’t trust you. i don’t want- i can’t see you killed.” somehow in the darkness of the room, you could see his eyes pleading, an unusual vulnerability for your captain.

“you can’t be this possessive and still not fuck me, captain.” you mocked him with his rank, pointing out the one big problem between you. “y’ know it’s more than fuckin’, sweetheart. woulda done it a while ago ‘f it was jus’ that.” oh. oh. you had guessed, slightly, but to hear him say it was…new. “next time, can you tell me that before going all caveman in front of the team?” his grip on your finger had loosened, his hand spreading out your own so he could link the two together. your palms were over his heart and you could feel its heavy beating calm slowly. “y’ didn’t know?” you shook your head, eyes focusing on the sight of your hands intertwined. your left hand to be specific, his fingers rubbing your ring finger absentmindedly. “don’t want t’ see you hurt because i care for you. and i don’t mind using my position t’ ensure it.” he leaned in, and for a heart stopping moment you thought he would kiss you. instead, he kissed your forehead, lips resting for a second. “we okay?” you nodded against him, feeling the scratch of his beard. “yeah, john, we’re okay.”

john was two seconds away from tugging you off the dance floor, ripping off the scrap of fabric you wore, and taking you in front of the entire club. you had begged the team to go clubbing after the mission, and with gaz and johnny on your side, your prayers were answered. you’d found the perfect thing to wear in a local shop - a scrap of a dress in your favorite color that showed off almost all of your skin. of course, you’d done shots with gaz and johnny, and now the three of you were on the dance floor, dancing the night away. “gonna break that glass, captain.” ghost nodded towards the tight grip price had on his whiskey, knuckles white and strained. he loosened slightly at his lieutenant’s words, gaze never leaving your figure. “fuckin’ hell.” ghost muttered, tracking the figure of his captain’s obsession. johnny had joined you from the back and gaz from the front, the three of you grinding like there was no tomorrow. johnny’s fingers gripped your waist while kyle’s brushed your shoulders, occasionally running up and down your arms. “cap-“ but he was already moving, glass empty and dropped on the table as price made his way to the dance floor.

“‘m cutting in.” your captain peeled his two sergeants off you, sending them scampering and snickering with a glare. “didn’t know you danced, john.” he didn’t, just stood unmoving with arms akimbo and possessiveness flaring in his eyes. “come on.” you grabbed his arm and dragged him through the crowd, finding a dark corner for the two of you, away from the team. “took you long enough to come get me.” you giggled. he raised an eyebrow, resting his hands on your waist as you swayed to the beat of the music. “y’ sayin’ that was all for me?” you nodded, biting your lip in anticipation. instead of replying, he flipped you around, tugging you into him until there was no space between you. you started grinding, not the false imitation of what you were doing with johnny and kyle, letting the beat move your hips. “a worse man might take advantage of you, darlin’. so pretty an’ willing f’ me.” he was right next to your ear, beard scraping your soft skin.

“doesn’t make you worse, john. it makes you human.” huh. he’d never thought of it that way, that he was just a man instead of a captain. he contemplated it, that gray area, as you moved one of his hands from your waist to your lower stomach, pressing it above your core. “‘s not taking advantage, john. i’m not drunk, just tipsy.” he pressed harder against you, drawing out a moan in the darkness as you felt that familiar coil of arousal. you could feel the outline of his cock through his jeans, the thin material of your dress barely a barrier. “don’t want our first time to be in a filthy club bathroom, baby. when i fuck you, i’m goin’ to take my time.” he grinded his palm into you, noting the hitch in your breath as he found your cunt, hidden behind two layers of fabric. it was building up, your nipples hardening and scraping against your dress. he was rock hard now, hips loose and all yours. you couldn’t quell that one voice in the back of your mind, though. “will it- will it just be once? when you fuck me?” he shook his head, spinning you around until your back was to a wall, your captain pinning your hands up and looking down at you with a hungry gaze. his hips were still pressed into yours, cock rubbing against your cunt. “y’ gonna get it through your head. you’re mine and i’m yours.” his eyes were searching yours for confirmation that he hadn’t been grasping at straws. you nodded quickly, wrapping a leg around his waist and tugging him closer. “mine. yours. when are you gonna kiss me, john?” you whined that last part, turning on your biggest puppy dog eyes. he almost growled at it, you so helpless under him. the invisible limits he had on himself, on a relationship between a captain and lieutenant, broke easily under your heady gaze. he leaned in slowly, cupping your jaw and running his thumb over your lips. and finally, finally, he kissed you.

it was slow and soft and john, the taste of whiskey rushing through your mouth. you were in a bubble, tugging your pinned hands out of his grip so you could pull him closer. his hips slotted further into yours but his lips told a softer story, biting and licking, exploring yours. you never wanted to stop, content to lie here forever and never let him go. “y’ taste like my dreams, sweetheart.” he whispered, just for you. he tasted like your future.

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

Omg can I please get husband!bangchan x fem!reader plsplspls. My scenario is basically reader is stressed and can’t stop studying (uni) and bangchan sees that and helps her relax. (Daddy kink and praise plsplspls)

let me help you relax

pairing: daddy!husband!chan x fem reader

genre: smut with feelings

word count: ~1.3k

warnings: daddy kink, praise kink, tiny bit of size kink, unprotected sex, implied subspace, i think that’s all.

an: i’m finishing this and posting it while im half asleep so im sorry for any mistakes or if it’s absolute trash. but i’ve been feeling particularly feral about him today and he’s been on my mind. so here’s some daddy!chan for you. ♡ love ya.

masterlist • consider leaving me a tip

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your eyes were betraying you. they burned, closing of their own accord, begging for rest. you reached for your coffee, an empty energy drink can falling to the floor. you needed to study more. it’s finals time and you’re stressed. the exam you have tomorrow could make or break your degree. you stomach churned at the thought.

“baby, why don’t you take a break?” your husbands voice approached from behind, his hands gently resting on your shoulders. you were on edge and he wasn’t helping.

“oh that’s rich, coming from you.” you snapped. and you realized your mistake immediately. his grip on your shoulders tightened ever so slightly. it would have been imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know your dynamic. but his voice is what gave you chills. it changed from sweet and doting, to serious. “oh really?” he said. you weren’t looking at him, but you could visualize his expression in your mind. he had at least one eyebrow raised, maybe both. it was the type of look that said: is this really how you want this to go?

and it wasn’t. you didn’t like being a brat. you were just stressed. “i’m sorry, daddy.” your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. “i didn’t mean to snap at you. i’m just under a lot of pressure.”

“i know you are, baby.” he said, his hands on your shoulders starting to massage the knots out. “you’ve been studying so hard.” his hands felt amazing and you started to relax in his hold. he hummed a sweet sound and then placed a kiss on the top of your head. one of his hands started to snake around your shoulder and down under the neckline of your pajama top. “i think it’s time for a break.” he said, his fingertips finding your bare nipple. “don’t you?”

your breath caught in your throat and you nodded, all thoughts of exams lost. he was pulling you deeper and deeper into that soft, fuzzy space that you loved so much. he knew exactly what to do to get your mind off of things.

his other hand tilted your chin up, so you were looking at him. he was upside down, but that didn’t matter. he kissed you gently anyway, before pulling away and helping you stand. he led you from the desk, to your shared bed, pulling your top over your head along the way. your legs hit the bed frame and you let your body fall back onto the mattress. you pulled him down with you, your hands wrapped around his neck. he chuckled against your lips as he kissed you, his hands wandering.

“baby’s been working so hard.” he said, kissing down your jaw to your neck. he nibbled at the sensitive skin there, mumbling his words. “let daddy take care of you. let me help you relax.”

his fingertips found the top of your shorts and began dancing in and out of the material, teasing you. his lips travelled further down, his breath warm against your skin, as he took your nipple into his mouth.

“yes daddy.” you panted.

his tongue swirled around your hard nipple, his teeth grazing it ever so slightly. his hand finally went under your shorts and started playing with your most sensitive area. he tugged gently on the small amount of hair you kept. “mmm..” he hummed. “daddy’s gonna make you forget all about school baby..” his kisses were wet against your nipple. “gonna fuck you till your heads empty.. yeah?”

little did he know, your head was already empty. your mind was cloudy with nothing but him. his smell, his taste, the feel of his hard body against your soft one. he rutted his clothed erection against your thigh, groaning deeply.

he moved his tongue across your chest to your other nipple as he slipped a finger inside your wet hole. your hands balled in the sheets. you wanted to beg him for more, please more, but you couldn’t find the words.

“pussy’s so wet baby..” he mumbled around your nipple. “perfect little pussy.. wants daddy’s cock so bad, huh?”

your answering moan told him he was right, and he slipped another finger inside. he needed to prep you at least a little bit. he kissed his way back up to your lips, letting his tongue play with yours. you started to grab for his curls, to pull him closer, but he pulled away. you whimpered at the loss, pouting.

“don’t pout baby.” he said, poking your jutting bottom lip. “i’m just going to give you what you want.” he pulled his fingers out of you, and removed his shorts. that was the only thing he was wearing, a courtesy to you, as you told him you can’t focus on studying when he walks around naked everywhere. but now, you basked in his nakedness. stared at him and admired him. he truly was beautiful. and so incredibly sexy. he kicked his shorts to the floor and pumped himself in his hand a few times before kneeling between your legs.

he slid the head of his cock up and down between your folds, teasing your entrance and bumping your clit with every pass. “gonna let daddy stretch you out baby?” he asked. he smiled warmly down at you when you didn’t answer him. you just stared up at him with big, glassy eyes, silently begging him to fill you. “can’t talk, baby girl?” he cooed.

the tip of his cock slowly entered you, and he brought one of his hands up to cup your face. you turned your face toward his hand, finding comfort there. “here we go, baby. deep breath, okay?” you nodded and inhaled deeply through your nose. and as you slowly let it out through your mouth, he pushed until he bottomed out. it kicked the breath out of you at first and he knew to give you a moment before he started moving. “good girl baby. there you go. taking me so well.” he rubbed your cheek with his thumb, before slowly bringing that thumb to rub against your clit.

you whined under him, your body unable to hold still, it just felt so good. he started to move. started to thrust in and out of you, his length hitting that perfect spot over and over. “you’re so perfect, baby. daddy’s perfect girl.” his thrusts were getting faster now, your high quickly building. “that’s.. fuck.. that’s why i married you baby.” he grunted in between thrusts. “nobody takes daddy’s cock like you do, princess.”

you reached for him, trying to hold onto anything to help ground yourself. he gave you his hand. you gripped his smallest finger as he fucked you, his muscled chest and abdomen gleaming with sweat. “good girl, baby. hold onto daddy’s pinky.” your walls fluttered around him, your orgasm was right there.

“cmon baby.” his thrusts were harsh now, his skin slapping against yours as your arousal slipped down onto the sheets. “let go for me. squeeze my cock.”

you held onto his hand for dear life as your orgasm rocked through you, your body quivering with pleasure. “thank— thank you daddy.” you blabbered.

“fuck-“ he was starting to get sloppy, unable to control his hips when you felt so good cumming around him. “fuck- i love you baby. im gonna- fuck.. gonna cum.”

he stilled as he released inside of you, his cock twitching as he filled you up. your body fell limp against the mattress, and he reclined back on his heels. he pushed the damp hair out his face before looking down at you. you looked so fucked out, so happy. he smiled.

he leaned down and kissed you gently on the lips. your sleepy eyes fluttered open to look at him. he brushed your own hair out of your eyes and kissed the tip of your nose. “are you coming back to me now, baby?” he chuckled. “come back to earth, sweetheart.”

you smiled a dreamy smile at him. “love you.” you mumbled.

he said something else that sounded like “love you more.” before he climbed off the bed in search of something to clean you up with, but you were already drifting off to a very much needed sleep, dreaming of him.

your daddy.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡

©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.

[missfrustration]

a scholar's secret (nanami kento x reader 18+)

rating: explicit 18+, minors do not interact!

tags: pwp, nsfw, smut, rough oral sex, vaginal sex, college/university au, teacher/student relationship, face-fucking, marking, semi-public sex, desk sex, mildly dubious consent, suit kink, light bondage, accidental voyeurism, no use of y/n

A/n: 🎵THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDERRR🎵 who likes the men in suits kink?? THIS QUEEN. on ao3 here!

word count: 5.3k (too long)

------

“Don’t call me by that name; that’s extremely disrespectful, young lady. I am your senior, and you will address me as such.”

“I’ll do whatever I want, Nanami .” You cross your arms, looking at your professor sitting at his desk across the room. 

Today, he asked you to stay after school for remedial lessons. You’ve been failing his class recently, which he doesn’t take lightly. You couldn’t give less of a shit, however, since It isn’t the class you’re bothered about; it’s him.

Nanami Kento is the one who’s constantly been on your mind. You can't deny your attraction toward your English professor even when you're almost a decade younger than him, but your current situation makes your feelings impossible to hide.

“Do you want to stay in this program or not? If you keep skipping my classes, the school will drop you out.” He points at you with a pen in hand. 

“Do you even want me to stay? You could kick me out yourself if I’m such a burden.” You sit on the student desk closest to Nanami, crossing your legs. Nanami clicks his tongue at the action, now looking at you up and down.

“Yes, I want all of my students to stay and pass. And that includes you, too.” He shifts to rest his head on his palm. “You’re intelligent enough to pass this class with flying colors, so why don’t you try?”

“Why don’t I ? You don’t take me seriously! Do you think I should give a shit-”

Nanami calls your name, cutting you off, “Watch your language. Now . I will not tolerate this disobedience in my classroom.” 

He’s not playing around anymore, but that annoyed look of his as he lazily puts his chin on his palm pisses you off more. You kick off the table, back onto the carpeted floor, and pace behind his desk. He keeps eye contact with you without swiveling his head, watching your every move with indifference. 

“Or what ? Gonna fucking kick me out? Seems like the right course of action, considering I’m just some bitch you couldn’t care less about.” You spit out.

He slowly turns to you, raising his head from his hands, which causes you to back down. “Hey,�� Nanami starts getting up to face you entirely, “I said language. Watch yourself, young lady. ” 

You’ve had about enough of this. If this is how it’s gonna be, you didn’t even care about winning his affection anymore. You just need to say what’s on your mind. You’re probably going to get kicked off the roster either way.

You look at him and lower your voice as you step closer. “I know that you know, Nanami.”

He raises his eyebrow as you continue. 

“I can’t keep taking your class if you silently reject me. If you treated me like a nobody, maybe it would be better. Instead, you have me stay after class doing stupid lessons like that will change anything.”

You pause for a minute, feeling the back of your eyes water and a cry come to your throat. You feel so frustrated with him right now but crying would make things so much worse. You continue with your head down, putting an extended emphasis on your words to quell your emotions. “It’s… torture for me. I can’t keep seeing your face in class anymore.”

You raise your head to see the man standing in front of you. He gets up from his chair and crosses his arms.

Nanami closes his eyes and gives a long sigh. “Okay. I’m sorry. I thought this would be helpful for you given the situation, but now I realize I was mistaken.”

He ends his sentence, looking back at you silently for a reply. You stare at him, growing more furious the longer he doesn’t say anything else. 

“Wow, I can’t believe you. That’s all you have to say to me, asshole?” You spit out.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Stop spouting that unpleasant language.”

“Oh, yeah? Make me then, Nanami .” You raise your hand to point at him. Before you could, Nanami grabbed your hand and gripped it. Hard. You try to free yourself, but your teacher won’t let go. 

“Hey, get off!”

“No.”

“This is extremely unprofessional of you.”

Nanami cocks his head and twists your wrist, which plagues your discomfort, “Huh. I could say the same for you, young lady. Watch your mouth.”

You try to free your wrist again and again. To no avail, it only makes his grip tighten. Your tears have dissipated, leaving behind the pent-up rage you’ve built from this man. 

“Just. Let. Me. Leave!”

“No can do.”

You start to turn away. With your back facing him, you try to free your wrist still grabbed by your professor. With each tug to break free, you spit out the vulgarity, “Ugh, you’re an asshole. An idiot. A moron. Shitbag. Useless profess-”

You feel a harsh tug on your wrist as you whirl around. You feel dazed and confused, letting out a small yelp that is silenced by his lips clashing against yours and rough hands falling on your waist. Against your lips, Nanami mutters.

“You brat.” 

As your back falls against Nanami’s desk, you lean forward to deepen the kiss, earning a growl from him. Nanami’s scent instantly infiltrated your nose, a nutty musk and vanilla that fit him perfectly. His grip gets harsher when he feels you comply with his touch and your bodies close as you take your pent-up frustrations on each other.  You dig your nails through the roots of his hair. He grabs your waist with need, cutting your thighs onto the rigid wood, which causes you to squeak in surprise. 

You think Nanami has finally snapped out of his hypnosis when he slowly separates himself from you with a sour look. He shakes his head with a lingering sigh, tapping a finger to your forehead.

“I thought you would’ve learned to keep your mouth shut, but I can see you didn’t get that through that pretty little head.”

“I’m curious to hear what else you expect me to learn when you want to shut me up like this .”

He brushes his hair back as he looks you up and down, taking down your body in a generous display that makes your face heat up. Your thin bra and shirt revealed the protusion of your nipples, and those tight, low-rise jeans showed enough midriff to be noticeable. He bluntly ignores your comment, and you can tell by his knit brows and darting eyes that he’s entirely in his thoughts.

“Dammit, you pesky girl, if I keep going, I’ll be in huge trouble.”

You are dumbfounded at this turn of events. As Nanami hints, separating your bodies to stop this very inappropriate advance would be the best course of action, yet your limbs are still entangled; you don’t push yourself off the desk, and your faces stay tapered to the intimate space. You see his lips pursed and his temples relaxed. The chisel of his jaw was somehow sharper in your proximity, now making him look more irresistible. 

“I can keep a secret.” You say.

Desperation takes over as you brush past his tie, feeling the tight muscles that hold shape under his pressed suit. You bawl your fists tightly onto Nanami’s fitted suit jacket before diving your lips to his. Now you were the hungry one. Nanami matches your pace, promptly leading the kiss as he presses into your body.

“We are so fucked if we get caught, huh?” You can’t keep a smile off your face against his lips, reveling in the fact that Nanami’s whole career is on the line—all because of you.

“Obviously.”

“I don’t see what you’re trying to do then. Lose your job?” 

Nanami clicks his tongue at the sudden cockiness you’ve shown, tilting your face up to meet his gaze and smushing your cheeks between the pads of his fingers. You note that his hands are unusually soft.

“I’m trying to shut up that filthy mouth of yours.” 

His brows are furrowed, almost angry at you for making him say the things he seems desperate to conceal. You could care less if he’s agitated; he has you so worked up that your feelings are in a daze–well, except for the feeling that makes you want to moan against the stiffened fingers that clutch your skin.

“Do whatever you want to me.”

He lifts you onto his desk, pushing past a stack of papers. It didn’t matter that the last essay for your class cascaded on the floor at that moment. What did matter was the way Nanami’s hands laid on your button-up blouse, pulling it apart so rough the plastic buttons flew off your shirt, clattering across the floor. You moan erotically before Nanami’s large hand clamps on your mouth, muffling you.

“ Ah, ah. We don’t need anyone hearing that,” Nanami says, his hand unfastening from your lips yet idles in the air. “Obey this one thing, at least.”

“What if I don’t want to?” 

“Then, I’ll teach you an outstanding lesson while we’re at it.” Nanami pulls his tie off cleanly, leaving the collar slack from his broad neck. He slips his suit jacket off with ease and tosses it to the ground. 

“Teaching me anything this year hasn’t been your strong suit.”

“Well, we don’t need to do this the hard way, but with that attitude? That’s where you're headed,” Nanami grabs both of your breasts under that thin bra of yours, freeing them from the cups before diving in to taste them.

A small pant escapes your lips at the sensation, arching your back to give your professor more access. He takes the opportunity, using his teeth to slowly drag across your nipples. Your knuckles clench against the desk as you try to stay quiet. Even if your threshold for pleasure without moaning like an animal is barely existent, you want more from Nanami. You want him to rile up, to give him a face other than stoicism and agitation. 

“What’s the hard way ? Being fucked in your classroom?” You thrall, unable to hide that smirk that tells Nanami exactly which option you prefer. “Maybe making me your private lesson for the day?”

Nanami scoffs, using your name as a cautionary tale, to tell you to not push him. You swing your feet on his desk, knocking the back of your shoes off the wood, and grabbing your tits to playfully taunt him. You twist the nipples in front of him, giving him your feigned faces of arousal, grabbing the fat like it didn’t matter to you. You wanted it all to matter to him, and you certainly didn’t miss those eyes that glanced at your display before looking back up.

“ Oh , I love a challenge, baby.” You sing, reaching up to pull him closer, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt to reveal a soft glimpse of clavicle. 

His hands catch both of yours.

Before you could feel the skin underneath that white shirt, Nanami’s hands took your hips and dragged you back on the ground, away from the desk and probably the last chance you had to back out. Not like you had any intention to back out anyway.

“Get on your fucking knees.” He says. The words come out so dark, so lustful , so purposeful that you would’ve never expected from your English professor.

You didn’t even need to think about it. The way you immediately knelt on the ground like an obedient dog for your instructor is concerning. You watch his hands reach above his trouser pants, see his well-manicured nails travel right at the hem in front of you, and pull out the dress shirt he tucked so neatly in place. Once his brown leather belt clicked off, you didn’t need to consider future repercussions. 

“The rest of it. Take it off.” He tells you.

Your skinny fingers unbutton his suit pants and inch down his boxers, catapulting his hard-on out in the air. You practically whimper at the sight. His dick is more than you imagined in all those lectures you sat in on. It's curved with a prominent and a large vein running from head to base, making you shift your legs. You thought about him in the same lectures where you would catch eyes with Nanami and let both eyes travel to each other. Those tight trousers you’ve thirsted to have off are no longer a problem.

It’s much more satisfying when you see the drapes match the curtains.

“Good, now…–!” His sentence breaks, and he hisses when your fingers suddenly wrap around him. 

You feel a different ridge and vein of his thick girth for every second that passes before gallantly pumping it with your fist. The way your fingers were shy of connecting a ring around his shaft was enough to make you wet.

You didn’t have to think twice when you looked up at him, giving him pretty innocent eyes as you stroked his cock. Inside, you were absolutely reveling in the power. Your arms narrowed into your torso, giving Nanami the perfect view of your tits. You pulled your face right next to his member while you stroked it like such a tease to see if you could make him take things a step further. At this point, you can’t hide the creeping grin when Nanami’s stoic gaze starts to turn darker. He starts unbuttoning the rest of his loosened shirt.

“ Fuck , I love how you look right now,” Nanami says. “Put that gorgeous mouth to work.”

No second was needed to think; you instantly cut your attention on the growl that spilled off of his tongue when your lips kissed his cock. Maybe it would be better to get to the point, to take all of him in your mouth and show him what you’ve been daydreaming about, but something wants you to unravel him slowly. By the time each of his buttons undoes on his dress shirt, you get to see just how chiseled your professor is.

You travel your tongue up and down his shaft, teasing and tasting the sweet skin shy of his trimmed pubic hair. You gaze at the perfect cut of his V-line, then to all the rigid lines of each muscle exposed to you.

Your hands start to loosen the pants and boxers still around his hips as you lick him, making it pool down his ankles and shiny brown loafers. You return to his hips and trace graceful lines on his cream-colored skin. 

His skin catches you in a trace; every inch of his body is soft and supple, showing it’s cared for. When your fingers rub against it, you mistake it for a canvas picked from the finest clothes. The perfection doesn’t look real. 

Your face flushes when his finger strokes your cheek. He looks like he could melt from your eyes, slowly turning a more profound gaze once you take all of him in your mouth. 

You let your throat relax as, inch by inch, you swallow his cock down, looking at him the whole way. Nanami watches the whole thing, mouth agape, and face furrowed like he’s in agony . Like he was one step away from using your head as he liked and making a mess out of you, his favorite student who should learn more about obedience. The pace you hold is that of a snail, but you want to get accustomed to his length: it’ll help out both of you. 

Once his pubic hair tickles the tip of your nose, you feel like you’re running out of breath. The need to take all of him is a ticking time bomb. You squish your lips against the base in a flash, scrunching your nose to his pelvis before pulling away and starting back at the head. 

The second time, reaching his base was a lot easier, especially with a hot distraction watching you like you were the moon and stars. Tufts of hair now stuck to his forehead as he pants at you, eyes dilated and bothered to look at anything else. 

You continue to bob your head up and down on his pulsing dick, reaching a finger to tug at his balls lightly. Your mouth has fully painted his shaft in a layer of your own spit, brushing it down the base before replacing it with a new layer. The build-up of saliva gathered around your lips in a wet foam. 

His stoic gaze, which he held since the day you met him, crumbles. His bottom lip is trapped between his teeth as he huffs in the air. By the minute, his pants grow rugged as his hand brushes back your hair. If he didn’t do that, your hair would’ve been in the way of the lock of your eyes.

When you tease the bottom of his head with the graze of your bottom teeth, he balls your loose hair in a fist. the force causes you to whimper out before plunging his dick in your mouth as fast as you could. Over and over again. 

“ Thaat’s it .”

His head throws back as his hips start to snap into your mouth. His hand tangled in your hair forces you down on his cock, but the other presses against your cheek, caressing and tilting your head just right. He groans a little louder when he tilts your head up to rock against you, just to tilt your head back down when it gets overwhelming.

You could practically taste the pre-cum seeping into your mouth, your cheeks hollow out, making the pressure on Nanami’s cock tighten the fist on your hair. He couldn’t help but use that head. He rocks you with reckless abandon, tears rolling down your cheeks and no doubt make a writhing mess of you. You constrict your lips around him so much his entire body jolts. You want more than just pre-cum.

“Okay, okay.” 

He pulls you off once he’s on the edge of cumming down your throat. How can you tell? The bliss he had on his face slowly trickling earlier was now contorted, his once slicked back hair now starting to fall out of place, and his other hand that gripped the edge of his desk at the last minute showed you all you needed to know. He didn’t need to tell you the obvious anyway, you knew where he wants to cum.

Your mouth had saliva dripping down your chin, making a thick string connect you and the tip of his penis. Your eyes teared up enough to no doubt smear the mascara on your bottom lashes. Gasps of air replace the part of Nanami that graced every corner of your mouth. You looked up at him like you were oblivious to the mess he made out of you, practically fluttering your eyes at his almost naked body.

“You look beautiful like that.”

Nanami helps you up before enveloping you in his body, arm around your waist, and crooning your head to sop up the spit that dribbled down your neck. The sensation of his tongue and grip on your body made it feel on fire. His lips to your ear had the perfect timing.

“You want me to treat your pretty pussy the same way as your slutty mouth?”

“Please.”

Nanami immediately kisses you while helping you out of your clothing. Things needed to change if he was the only one naked.

He’s insatiable when he sees your naked body, taking in every exposed surface of skin that he can. In one swift motion, he moves closer to you before leaning down, hoisting you in the air by your ass, with large hands gripping the supple skin before placing you on his desk. You’re left in disarray as he wastes no time nipping at your skin. His hands are on you, caressing you as one holds your face close. His teeth brush up and down the surface of your shoulders. 

Your hands impatiently reach for the hand lovingly stroking your face, lowering it down your torso near your aching apex.

“Touch me.”

Your legs spread to show him a view of your lips, the ones his hand is being led to. You study his face as he gets achingly closer to your core, watching the enchantment in his eyes over that stoicism.

A heavy exhale escapes you when his fingers brush over your labia, his fingers drawing  along the puffy skin. Even with his slight touch, a small whine escapes you as you shiver under his touch. 

He spreads your folds with two fingers and sighs, no doubt seeing the effect he’s had on you. Your arousal pools out from the source, one he uses to gloss his fingers. He presses his digits against you and coats himself so expertly before pausing. It causes your legs to squirm with anticipation.

“I don’t think it will fit.” He exhales a harbored breath and holds up his fingers, spitting on them as pseudo-lubricant. “Let me teach you how to fix that.”

He leans over you, spit softly dribbling down his knuckles as his other hand cages you to him.

Your arms buckle against the desk to steady yourself as you lean back, giving Nanami the perfect spot over you. He positions himself between your legs, arm lowering down to your apex by slowly dragging the back of his hand down your body.

Nanami watches your body as his finger pushes in. No, push is an overstatement. His finger easily glides into you, breaking the barrier easily due to your dripping arousal. Your eyebrows lift and knit together as your body reacts to him. His eyes stay on you, stoic yet interested in your movement.

“You sound good like this.”

He’s a knuckle-deep by the time you start to pant, fists tightened against the desk. Your back arches to showcase your pretty tits to him, and you feel your legs spread more with each inch he pushes into you. 

“And you get worked up so fast.”

Never has a man been so intent, so clear with his actions, enough to make yourself so turned on from so little done to your body. His words make you wetter and your pussy pulse in a way that doesn’t feel possible.

You feel euphoric when he starts pumping. At first you tried not to show it, but his expertise was clear, watching your reaction to each movement. Heavy, piercing eyes look at you, searching for a reason why you’ve come undone faster than he thought.

You let out weighted breaths, coming out of you like a thick smoke. You try to quell the flames, to lower the tone of your pleasure, but Nanami dares to make you even hotter, even louder with fingers that pump faster into you.. 

He’s in a daze, looking at your pussy as his fingers go in and out, scissoring, curling, plunging inside you. You try to swallow down your moans as you clench onto digits.

“Slow down.” You manage to say.

He pulls back immediately.

“Why, too much?”

“No, I just, I don’t feel like I should be this loud over just…”

“I can fix that.”

His head impatiently presses to yours.

He lingers his tongue against your lips, leaving your mouth breathless before he’s even kissed you. Your hand leads him back when you see his plan; to muffle you under his touch. 

You feel him insert another finger into you.

What is this, the second? Third? His finger stretched you out so much you can’t determine it, but you know you need it in order to fit him. 

His fingers gently scissor you open, helping your body adapt to the changes. He uses his other hand to stroke your leg when it starts to shake, and he looks at your face, watching for any semblance of pain along the way.

“Are you doing okay?” He whispers.

“I can definitely take more.” You said, coming off as more cocky than you intended.

“I see.”

He leans down to the floor, making you spread your legs in anticipation for him licking you up, that would make sense right?

“Give me your hands.” 

Did you think he needs your hands for this? No. You hold them out for him regardless.

You don’t think you could fully register how fast he grabbed your wrists as you see his tie flash past and quickly tighten around the skin. 

“Who knew English class could get you so riled up?” You giggle in response before being shut up by Nanami’s lips on yours.

Your tongues dance together when you hear the familiar crinkle of a wrapper, before peaking your eyes open to see Nanami sliding the condom down his member. He doesn’t falter once.

Your hands feel higher when he breaks the kiss, Nanami forcing them up and out of the way in order to get close to you. It only takes a second to reconnect lips again, both of you so hungry this time, knowing what’s to come.

With nimble hands you pull Nanami closer, letting his hands lower to your hips, gripping himself close to your soaked pussy. With a whisper of consent, his cockhead eases into you.

Pushing in, both of you release a sigh of relief as you feel yourself being stretched out more than earlier. You whimper against his skin, thankful he worked on loosening you up beforehand, but still living the very real consequences of his thick girth. 

Your hands squirm in the air, desperately wanting to wrap around your professor, but a stagnant hand holds them in the air, denying you the ability to move them any farther than digging your nails into his wrist.

You stifle your moans into heavy breaths when his length fully sinks into you, but the task seems impossible when he starts moving his hips.

you 

He was only a few thrusts in before you both heard a knock on the door.

“Hey, Mr. Nanami. You okay in there? I’ll be leaving soon, but I wanted to check in.”

You squeak, realizing who is talking on the other side of the door. It was the dean of the college, one that is a door away from sending you to expulsion. You tense up, something that Nanami definitely notices.

“Dammit,” Nanami mutters, hips stuttering when you unconsciously squeeze around him. For him it feels pleasurable. For you it feels downright heavenly, wasting no time to gasp.

Immediately, hands clasp onto your mouth, muffling a surprised gasp when Nanami thrusts deeper into you. 

“Try to be quiet.” He whispers, immediately raising his voice. “Thanks, Ichiji, sir, but I’m good. I just found a student who needs some help. I’ll lock up myself… shit.” Nanami could barely squeeze out an excuse before grunting. You squeezed your pussy around his dick, clamping down on him just right. Does he know if it’s purposeful? At first it wasn’t, but seeing he has his hand clamp around you, it’s free game.

“You sure you’re alright? I heard some concerning noises,” the principal trails off. 

You hear the door handle shift, yet the door doesn’t open. 

“Apologies, the handle must be jammed again.” Nanami says. “I’ll get going in a few.”

There’s a pause, one you don’t divulge in, as Nanami gets his payback by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, making you shiver into his grasp. You hear the faintness of the voice once again.

“Well, try not to overwork yourself again. I’ll be leaving.”

You pry his fingers off your mouth after hearing footsteps echo down the hallway. You almost hear what sounds like a sound of relief coming from your professor.

“Please, that door has never jammed,” You blink. “Wait, did you lock it earlier?”

“Can’t help it. It seems I can’t control myself around you.”

He doesn’t explain further, rather showing you the extent of his swagger.

He leans into your neck, nibbling on the flesh before sucking on one of your nipples, passionately licking, biting, and kissing the bud until your pussy clamps back down on him.

He hollowed his core, rounded his back, and clapped into you more. His eyes watch you flutter under him as your legs wrap around him.

The slaps of his balls thumping against your pussy with each jack of his hips is loud, raunchy, and undomesticated. Your voice breaks into a heavenly sound without resistance now, and Nanami doesn’t move to stop it. When there’s a semblance of silence in your moans, you manage to choke out, “What happened to shutting me up?”

“My superior isn’t here anymore. I couldn’t give a damn about what anyone else hears.” 

Nanami spreads your legs, thrusting in you so forcefully your mouth opens in another silent scream, your eyes roll back from the pleasure.

“Want a challenge? Scream so loud like it’s the last thing I’ll ever hear.”

He drank that shit up—you knew—so much that you could see his eyes practically fuck you harder than his body. Just when you think he’s reached his capacity to pleasure you harder, he reaches for your shoulder, letting his grip slam you into his thrusts. The way his cockhead starts pounding againt your cervix sends a full body current of otherworldly heat into you, making your head kick back and body shake. If it wasn’t for your professor's firm hands on you, your body would have flown off the damn desk. No, all the energy of each thrust is concentrated entirely inside of you, promoting a mirase of raunchy moans that have never bellowed from your body. 

Your crescendo of pleasure hit its peak soon enough, rupturing a loud moan from your throat. Your feet wrap around behind him, encasing his whole length inside you as you cum on him. You stop Nanami’s hard hammering of hips, causing his cock to twitch amidst your orgasm.

You're twitching on his desk, genuinely so tweaked and cock drunk you don’t need to move. Your mouth is open and covered in your dried spittle, along with your face and eye makeup undoubtedly smeared. You’re gasping for air just as much as Nanami is. You don’t have it in you to do anything else; you're not coherent enough for that.

Nanami holds out his hand.

“Here.”

He helps you down with gentle hands. The softness of his grip when his hands fall to your waist swells your heart and makes you blush. 

Your mind doesn’t have a chance to think before you feel something heavy drape around your shoulders. Nanami covers you with his suit jacket, one that’s surpringly weighted, yet durable.

He turns you around, and you feel his figure kneel behind you before untieing your restraints. He doesn’t stumble in undoing the knots, freeing your wrists promptly. 

“Hold still.”

You feel his hand pressing against your inner thigh, telling you to spread your feet. You do so, and feel a cloth in between your legs, cleaning you up in soft strokes. You let him clean you, keeping your body still.

When he gets up, he paces back to his desk, placing his now sodden handkerchief to the side. You hold the suit jacket from the sides, preventing it from sliding off.

“You planned all those measures? Kinda odd you would have condoms in the classroom.”

He shrugs.

“I can’t imagine having a kid with someone about a decade my junior.”

That wasn’t exactly what you were asking about; you brushed it off regardless. What did annoy you was his hint of snideness in the remark.

You lean against the desk with an annoyed grimace. “Remind me to poke a hole in it next time.”

Nanami furrows his brows at your remark. 

“You will do no such thing,” he says in a flat tone. That lack of depth in his voice doesn’t mean you don’t catch a hint of playfulness in his face.

“Does that mean there will be a next time?”

“Come to my class more, and then we can talk.”

“Deal.”

[ollimus-prime]

Hey :) , Loved your jazz hands and might i say that im absolutely obsessed with it. Could i request more? Maybe day in the life / slice of life of being held captive by jazz. Gosh we are just so helpless with him and jazz is special ops lmao. Is it wrong to say id be cool with it? -🐞

Jazz Hands Pt. 2

A/N, not important: Sorry if the characterization is off, I'm still learning. I'm only like, 90 comics in. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: kidnapped, you're basically a pet idk

Words: 1513

Summary: You're stuck with Jazz for now.

Pt. 1

The room was empty. You look around, glancing between the lone slab of metal your kidnapper, ‘Jazz’, slept on and the door. He was gone, really and truly gone. The desk you were left on gave you just enough of a view of the room to be certain, letting you slip nervously off of the pile of rags you now slept on. Hope bloomed in your chest before you angrily stamped it down, not letting yourself get too excited. This was possibly your only chance of leaving this horrid place, and you were not going to let something as pitiful as hope get in your way. No, you needed to be logical about this.

You carefully made your way to the edge of the desk, trying to judge the distance to the floor. The long way down made you feel dizzy, a pit forming in your stomach. The chair was slightly pushed out and, while a worrying distance still far down, was much more inviting than the floor. You try to steele your nerves to jump, working up the courage to take the fall. Sure, it was maybe 8 feet down, but the worst that could happen is you break something. You wince, starting to lose your nerve at the thought.

With carefully curated confidence and determination, you back away from the edge before bolting forwards and throwing yourself towards the chair, trying to keep your body loose as you fall. The fall is short but sickening, your mind reeling as the images of you broken on a chair for the robot who took you to find flashing through your head.

The landing is painful, your legs giving way under you and knocking you to your knees. You let yourself starfish out onto the chair and take deep breaths. Rushing getting up seemed more of a bad idea than the jump itself was. You carefully roll your ankles in a small circle as you lay there, making sure nothing was broken or damaged. Pleased with the results and your resolve growing once more, you push yourself up to inspect the next jump you had to make.

You sigh at the similar height down to the floor, internally wincing at the hard metal you’d be jumping down onto. While the chair was made of a similar material, the floor itself seemed all that more threatening. You steady yourself, getting ready to throw yourself off the next ledge and bolt to freedom. You change your tactic, lowering yourself down and hanging yourself off the edge of the chair instead of jumping straight down. With the height between your feet and the floor now much lower, you let go.

The impact on your legs is much easier to deal with. You smile wide as you merely wobble this time, almost laughing in joy at the realization you were now on the ground. You make your way over to the door, inspecting the gap between the floor. The gap was small, much smaller than anything you could squeeze through. Ideas float through your head as you inspect the door, trying to come up with some way to get out and get away.

The door wasn’t willing to budge no matter how much you tried, and the keypad was much too far above you. Not like you knew the passkey for it anyways. You grit your teeth, kicking the door in frustration. Upon making impact with the door, a loud thud sounds. You freeze, looking at the door in confusion before you hear another one, then another. Panic wells up in you as you try to scramble away from the door as you realize what that sound was. Footsteps. 

Jazz was back.

The door slides open before you’re even close to somewhere you could hide, the surprised rev of his engine your only warning before you’re scooped into his hands. The speed at which he picks you up causes your head to spin. With no time at all, you’re eye-to-visor with him and he looks none too pleased.

“What’re you doing on the floor like that? I could’ve stepped on you!” He scolds, the vibrato of his voice washing over you. The deep sound still scared you. It surprised you how something so completely foreign and inhumane could sound so close to your own native tongue.

You bite down on your cheek in hopes to prevent yourself from retorting. The robot’s engine rumbles in frustration at your silence, his hands shifting so you’re settled in one while the other holds you still. Large fingers start to tousle your hair in the manner of a human to a mouse. 

“Why won’t you just talk to me?” The Porsche mutters in resignation, more to himself than to you. You try to bat away his fingers that seemed to yearn to squeeze the air out of you, the robot’s face contorting into a frown. You refused to engage with the robot in any positive way since you’ve been here, causing his insistence that you’re happy with him to come into question. It’s been nearly a month since he’s had you, and nearly a week since you had refused to even speak to him. It was the only way so far you could ‘fight back’. Especially since he and the others freak out if you skip even a single bite of food.

The ‘bot sighs after a while of you still refusing to respond, his hands cupping under you once more before depositing you onto his shoulder. The temptation to try and jump from his shoulder was quickly squashed with a quick glance down reminding you that you couldn’t make it unscathed. The height from the desk to the ground seemed like child's play now. You ease your way into the small space between where the car’s hood ended and the cables of his neck began, taking careful consideration to stand somewhere you weren’t going to lose a limb if he moved weirdly. The first couple steps made your stomach lurch and your hands cling desperately to the thick cables in hopes you wouldn’t be launched off the shoulder of the metal beast. It was a hated compromise, to cling to the monster that kidnapped you and made you a glorified pet or be dropped from thirty feet, but a necessary one.

The Porsche walks through the halls of the ship he brought you on, greeting the other robots he sees with an easy smile. You weren’t particularly sure where he was going, the ‘bots sure steps tussling you each time. You hated when he carried you like this, yet you weren’t willing to be held in his hands either.

It was a short walk to the room he wanted. The tables were occupied by other bots you didn’t care to find out the names of, garbled speech washing over you. You didn’t usually care to hear what they were saying, their conversations of ‘Decepticons’ and whatever war they spoke of going completely over your head. Nothing here made sense anyways.

The ‘bot under you walks over to the dispenser of their fuel(Energon, as he’d explained one) and draws a cube. The glowing pink liquid was mesmerizing. You were drawn to it in a way, the soft glow easier on your eyes than the harsh lights the rest of the ship had. He starts to drink from his cube-shaped glass while moving away from the dispenser to let others access it too. You stumble slightly as he moves, tensing back up against his neck in hopes to stay upright.

“Jazz,” One of the more robotic voices sounds. You scowl as you look towards the call, hiding further behind Jazz’s neck. The cop-bot stares at your movement as he regards the Porsche, his metal face scrunching up. “Ah. You brought your organic. Of course.”

Jazz’s engine revs slightly at the dig, his hand coming back up to cup around your form. You shrink away in an attempt to escape the new prison, but fail miserably as your space gets noticeably tighter. “Uh-huh. I don’t see the problem.”

“It’s an organic,” Prowl says with heavy judgment in his voice. Jazz sighs, his optic flashing at the tactician.

“They’re called humans, Prowl.”

“Sure,” He dismisses, ignoring the Porsche’s statement. He hands Jazz one of the large tablets the robots used. You zone out of the rest of their conversation, their heavy voices deep enough to go in one ear and out the other. You settle down against Jazz’s neck cables as his hand starts to rub at your head and back again. You kick at his fingers to no avail in an attempt to fight him off. The ‘bot pays no attention to your wants, instead shifting his hand so you can't fight back.

You slump back, bitter and miserable in your new state of life. Daydreams of hopping down heroically from the monster’s shoulder and running to freedom fill your head as you sulk. Maybe you could come up with a plan to finally get you out of here and back home.

Maybe.

[greenduvet]

flowers she gave him pt. 1

A/N: Hi loves!! So excited to finally share this story that has been brewing in my head for what feels like forever. I haven’t posted any of my writing publicly for years! So this is a big step for me, and I just couldn’t keep these thoughts to myself any longer. I want to say the biggest thank you to @luiscarrutherss and @galarian-weezing-on-prep for not only reading the early draft but making me feel excited to write and share my story. Also my girlfriend for helping me edit and watching succession. This will be a friends to lovers slow burn, so if that’s your jam like mine stick around! Anyways, enjoy mwah!

The floor was silent. Most people had gone home hours ago, the lights off in most offices. It was always so odd this time of night — looking out over all the different worlds happening just below, life continued on so vividly yet it felt so stiff and halted here.

It wasn’t the plan to have been here this late. Really he should have picked you up hours ago, the dinner reservation that had been made earlier this week now way past check in.

The reservation was Roman’s idea. Maybe a poor attempt at an apology, the only way a Roy knew how to apologize — dance around it yet never letting it fully resolve. You were used to it by now, a lifetime of Roman had made you well familiar. Yet this time felt different. Roman for once in his life was being distant, independent. He would blame it on work, family, stress, but you knew him better than that.

Tearing your eyes from the window, you look at your phone. Still nothing from Roman, not even a heads up that he would be an hour late to the aforementioned reservation. The thought of sending another ignored text filled you with a sense of irritation. Why wait here when you could see him face to face?

Without a second thought you haphazardly throw your things into your bag, muttering softly to yourself. The lights of your borderline clinical office flick off as you shut the door.

The way to Romans office was nearly tattooed in your brain from years of walking back and forth. Though your office was just down the hall, tonight it felt like a dreadful journey into unfamiliar territory. This wasn't how the night was supposed to go.

Turning the corner you could see him through the thick glass walls. He was staring at his computer, full attention to whatever was on the screen. You swear you had never seen him work so hard in his life… or at least pretend to work this hard. With a soft sigh, you walk into the office and stop in front of his desk, his eyes not once glancing from the screen.

“Late night?” The tone of your voice is dry, maybe a bit sarcastic. You weren’t used to this Roman, the detached, focused type. He had always been clingy, willing to throw his work down as soon as you had walked in.

Even standing directly in front of him, his eyes still never move from the screen. Moving his free hand from the desk to run through his already tousled hair, he hums softly, not bothering to give a full response.

Another sigh leaves your mouth and you turn to take a seat on the piece of foam covered in velvet they called a couch, there more for decor than actual comfort.

~~~

While your back is turned, Roman’s eyes glance quickly to you. The perfect image of a long day, he watched as you slowly dropped your bag without a thought. The whole day he had fought the urge to text you and watched the minutes tick past the planned reservation. He didn’t understand why he was doing this, pushing you away and trying to hurt you. Yet he felt like he was the only one hurting here.

As quick as his eyes lingered on you they were back on the screen, looking at the same report sheet he had been rereading for over an hour now. The sight of you settling on the couch out of the corner of his eye made his brows furrow softly. Why was he doing this again?

“Uh, ya know, Dad had me do some stuff.” He mumbles softly in response, his voice high in octave and almost tense. God, he didn’t even believe himself. He rips the hand in his hair down and begins to rapidly type something on the computer, trying his best to sell his stupid ‘busy’ act. You weren’t buying it, but it was unspoken that you and Roman never really did feelings — maybe that's why you were still so close.

~~~

Sighing, you pull your phone out and slip off the uncomfortable shoes you were wearing. It seems like Roman won’t be finished anytime soon, so neither will you.

The two of you work in a tense but comfortable silence, you clearing old emails and roman rapidly slamming keys. It was routine, though it didn’t keep you from noticing that what was once so familiar was now slowly changing. The silence still comfortable, yet more deafening than before.

“We had a reservation for tonight, did you forget?” Your voice breaks the silence, addressing the elephant in the room. Panning your view to roman, you can tell the question makes him squirm. The vein on his forehead bulged, his eyes widening ever so slightly at the screen.

You wait to hear some poor excuse, something around how it wasn’t his fault or to fuck off… but it never comes. Roman just continues to slam on the keys, the discomfort only growing on his face.

Sitting up, you nearly roll your eyes for what feels like the hundredth time of the night. You didn’t have time to waste sitting twiddling your thumbs to expect a coherent response from Roman when he obviously wasn't interested in giving you one. Slipping on your tight shoes, you grab your bag and rise wordlessly.

You look at Roman, hoping for something. For him to look at you, acknowledge that you were here for him. His eyes remained glued to the screen, though it seems like there is a deeply rooted panic there. 5...10…30 seconds go by and he does nothing.

The voice in your head repeating a mantra of fuck this over and over finally wins, and you turn to the door to leave. Though it hurt, you were tired of this back and forth. That, and your bed sounded much more appealing than the stone couch.

~~~

The second you leave Romans office, his eyes tear from the screen to your disappearing figure. The feeling of panic that had been bubbling in his chest all week started to explode into a deeper fear — you were walking away. He knew he deserved it, but still — what the fuck? Part of him thinks to leave you be and ignore your texts again, but his heart is screaming at him to follow you, chase after you and stop pushing you away like he had been for weeks.

He rises from his desk, leaving his computer unlocked and hastily makes it over to where you’d gone off to.

~~~

It feels like the elevator is taking forever on purpose. Maybe to taunt you for waiting for Roman, or maybe because deep down you had hoped he would come after you. Still, you waited for the doors to open so you could forget about today and the weird feeling in your chest at your best friend ignoring you. Why did it feel like you might actually lose him this time? Roman had seen you through your worst, and you’d seen him through his. But this dynamic was new, and didn’t feel like something you could recover from.

Finally, the high pitched ding breaks you from your thoughts, the doors sliding open to the luxury elevator awaiting you. Stepping in, you scan your badge and wait to be taken to ground level once again. Wine sounded good tonight, lots of it.

The doors begin to close, but before they can shut a hand is shoved between them, forcing them to open. Roman. He was there, face slightly flushed. It was funny, because Roman had never been the one to chase after you originally.

~~~

The sun felt hot – almost scorching. It was the end of June and finally it was starting to feel like summer in the hamptons. The backyard seemed to stretch on forever and was decked in long tables covered in lavish meals. This was a yearly event Logan held for his “partners” and their families — It was for the people who knew where the bodies were hidden. The whole ‘get away’ was to keep them close.

Though the event was mostly filled with adults, a few children were scattered around. A boy almost in his older teens, one a few years younger doing his best to fit in with the adults. An even younger boy with messy hair and big eyes, a young girl with fiery red hair, and lastly another girl who didn’t really fit in with the others. Yet that didn’t stop her from trying.

“Roman! Look at this – it's a worm!” You held out the stick with a worm dangling from it, the soft blue dress hanging on your tiny frame most definitely ruined. The wide grin on your face only grew as Romans eyes widened in disgust as he turned in the opposite direction. You would only start to chase after him again in response, as you had all afternoon.

This was a game between just you and Roman — you bugged, poked, nagged, and in response he would run away, gag, and ignore. For some reason your tiny brain just never got the memo that he couldn’t stand you. Things were easier back then. Innocent.

The sound of a loud bell stops you in your steps, Roman halting ahead of you. Dinner time. Placing the worm gently back to the ground you follow the children you came to know as the Roys.

The feeling of eyes on you from your parents and other bodies burnt like fire on your skin as you approached the dinner table. You hadn’t meant to dirty the dress, but running through the vast yard with the people you called “friends” had made you forget — forget that this was a performance, and that you needed to set a good example so that your family could stand out. Your mother would have words to say about this later.

Each child slid into their assigned seat at their own table away from the adult conversations happening at the other, longer table. You couldn’t help but feel a little relieved — you didn’t fully understand that whole world yet at the ripe age of 5, but you knew enough to be bored. Shiv felt the same way you did, her face more relaxed now than it had been at the sound of the ringing bell.

Roman’s seat was the one next to yours, and it was made obvious by the soft groan that left his mouth when he saw the tag of his name next to yours. Dramatically, he pulled his chair from the table, each action over dramatized and nearly throwing his body into the seat. Though the sour look didn't last long on his face as his eyes panned over to you and your dirty blue dress.

“Mommy and Daddy won’t be very happy with that, now will they?” The sour look fades from his face, a devilish grin replacing it. His tone is teasing and rude. It wasn’t anything new with Roman, though. The only attention he spared to give you was the more unpleasant kind. But it didn’t stop your obsession with trying to break him down and play with you.

You return his comment with a pout and look away from him, your hands finding themselves busy undoing the neatly folded table napkin at your place setting. Gently your fingers pull it apart, corner by corner. Finally you place it gently on your lap, your head high as you reply. “It was an accident. Maybe if you played nice, I wouldn't be messy.”

Roman was almost surprised with the response he was met with, a little smirk filled his lips. He couldn’t help but feel put in his place. He nodded to himself, taking the napkin and ripping the cloth out of its fold. Vastly different from the way you had done it with so much meaning. Maybe you weren’t as annoying as Roman thought.

The dinner was pretty tame. The children made soft conversation about various topics — the summer vacations they had planned, the extracurriculars, the movies they wanted to see. While the adults stuck to business conversation, how it always was and would be. It felt nice though, for once being around other children who somewhat understood your lifestyle. That, and it was a lot better than the company of your au pair.

After dinner, you find yourself with Shiv in the garden playing a game of fairies while running around the well maintained garden of roses. The sound of your feet against the gravel and shared giggles is all that can be heard — a pure moment of childhood innocence. Your dress slowly changed into one more brown than blue, Shiv’s own dress dirtying as well. It didn’t matter though, because for once you were just girls playing.

Logan’s booming voice rips you and Shiv from the moment. You can’t make out anything he is saying, but the both of you know it can't be good. You look to Shiv but her eyes are already on your face, wide and crystal blue. Then you hear it clear as day, the only word that mattered. Roman.

Looking around, you find a flower from one of the many bushes and pluck it gently, making sure to not damage any petals. You didn’t know Roman well yet but you knew well enough that this was normal. The sound of Logan's booming voice most times directed at him, as he seemed to always be the easiest target. Though, there was something about this time that felt worse than the others.

Without a second thought you run off, away from Shiv and the flower garden, carefully cradling the small white flower in your palm. The soft sound of sniffling guiding where to go, eventually leading you to the side of the oversized house.

There he was — sitting on the floor, knees to his chest, and a hand holding his cheek in pain. The spitting image of a kicked puppy.

This was worse than the other times.

Wordlessly you sit next to Roman, eyes not daring to look at him, but glued to the wall with ivy overgrowing. Before Roman can protest or run away, you bring the small white flower into view. A smile fills your lips before placing the flower onto his knee with all the care in the world.

That was the moment everything changed.

~~~

The elevator doors open fully and Roman steps into it with you. Your name falls from his lips as his hands comb through his hair for the umpteenth time that night. “Look– Fuck. Let’s just grab dinner, okay? There’s gotta be someplace still open and half edible around the block.”

You can tell he is trying his best to contain his expression and stay in control of the moment, but he's failing. Miserably.

His hazel eyes watery and nearly pleading, begging you to look at him and forgive him for being a total ass.

Looking him up and down, you hesitate. Maybe to make him sweat or to make him feel how you did all day, you weren’t sure.

“Wherever we go, I want hashbrowns.” You tear your eyes away from roman and click the button that would take you to the lobby. Immediately there is air in the elevator again, Roman’s pleading eyes vanishing. He always seemed to get his way with you.

[tsams-is-my-hyperfixation]

◀ | ◼ | ▶

[NONVERBAL SUN AU: Eclipse.]

Sun's head was hurting as he walked over to the desk, sitting in a chair. It was after hours, and the lights were dimmed. Moon crawled over. "Sunny, are you okay?" he asked his daytime counterpart, who just nodded tiredly. He put a hand on his head. "Just a headache..." Sun responded. "But we're animatronics, how can we get headaches?..." Moon asked, curious. Sun actually didn't know. Maybe it was something more...

"Moon, would you mind checking my systems?" Sun asked him. Moon nodded, crawling over to Sun, who sat down on the floor. "I need you to power down..." Moon told him. Sun did as told, powering down. Last thing he heard was Moon going into his mind to check...

~~~

[MOON'S POV:]

Sunny's head was all fun and games, quite literally! Cute little strawberry plushie's jumped up and down on the trampoline, while cartons of Chocolate Milk danced in the fridge. It wss all bright and colorful. Moon loved it. "I love this place!!!" he exclaimed. Then he shook his head. He was here for Sunny, not for the fun. He saw a yellow glow from the desk. He crawled over, to see someone who looked exactly like Sunny, but glowing brightly.

"Ooh! What's your name?" he asked them. They turned too look at him, giving him a dirty look. "First, stop crawling and stand up." the glowing Sunny said. "But I don't know how..." Moon mumbled. The glowing Sunny just stared at him, dumbfounded. "How do you—" he sighed in exasperation, getting up and grabbing Moon by the arm before jerking him upwards. Moon almost fell, but the glowing Sunny caught him. He was able to stand with glowing Sunny's help. "My name is Eclipse." the glowing Sunny—no, Eclipse—said. "I like your name!" Moon told him happily. "I'm Moon!"

"Nice to meet you I guess, Moon..." Eclipse mumbled under his breath. The lights grew brighter, causing Moon to flinch and cover his eyes. Again, the light hurt him, because he was darkness. Poor guy. Eclipse looked thoroughly surprised, before turning off his glow and hugging Moon. Moon hugged back. "Are you the thingy in Sunny's head that's making his head hurt?" Moon asked. "I guess I am..." Eclipse muttered. Moon just poked him innocently. "Bye bye, Clipsy!" Moon said innocently. Eclipse looked at him, before hesitantly waving goodbye. Then, Moon went back to the real world.

~~~

[SUNS POV:]

Sun opened his eyes, powering back on. He glanced at Moon, who seemed too be fine. "What happened?" he asked his nighttime counterpart. "The thingy hurting your head's name is Eclipse!" Moon told him. "YOU GAVE IT A NAME!?" Sun exclaimed, dumbfounded. Moon just nodded. Sun face planted. "Whatever floats your boat, Moony..." he mumbled. He pat his brother's head. Innocent little Moon...

"Sometimes you're an idiot...but that's okay, because you're my little brother. You are my world..."

THE SILLIES! Tagging people who might like it even if we aren't mutuals: @goodolddumbbanana @noinoi999 @ikamigami @multifandomcutie13 @thekillermaretwinz @inkyucu @skyuvu123 @ryomaandgundhamkin @coffee-the-bat @sen-sational @dagh0stking @ilikescience-confession-blog @tsamsconfessions123 @silly-a-777 @nosleepygay @eddwardharrison @bloodmoon-da-idiot @lunarlovesbeanbags @mo0ndr0p @sleepy-hall @a-fucking-tornado @rayofmfsunshine1201 @darksuns-beloved-pet @letthebloodrunlikeariver @astrofairy06 @sunny-sourzii @upsidedownapple @yelesomeblue @deyisacherry and literally anyone else. Half the people on here are not my mutuals and half of them are. If you would like your tag removed, just ask me and I gladly will. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

[sequinsmile-x]

Reprise

Aaron gets a call, and it feels like nothing short of history repeating itself.

-x-

Hi besties,

So, I recently realised all of my hurt comfort lately has been Aaron comforting Emily...so then I wrote this.

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: Minor Emily Prentiss whump, pregnancy, minor injuries

Words: 3.3k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He keeps getting interrupted.

Paperwork was the most boring part of his job, but one of the most important. If they got it wrong, if even the tiniest detail was missed, then it could be used as a technicality by a defence lawyer. An error that could lead to a dangerous individual being back on the streets, which was something Aaron didn’t want to weigh on his or anyone on his team's shoulders. He’d been there. Had felt guilty over mistakes he’d made before, and any assurances that he’s human, that he’s bound to make mistakes occasionally, would always fall flat. 

He was reviewing casework, desperate to get the pile of files in front of him finished so he could go home and spend the evening with his wife and kids, but every time he was getting somewhere someone would knock on his door to ask a question. A distraction that could lead to a mistake that meant he found himself reading the same pages again and again, not making any progress as the clock ticked closer and closer towards his little girl’s bedtime. 

He’d already sent Emily a text. Had let her know he was running late and to have dinner without him but that he’d be home before the kids went to bed. If he wasn’t away on a case, bath and bedtime were his jobs, now more than ever because of Emily’s pregnancy. Not only was she struggling to kneel on the floor next to the bath these days, but she was exhausted all the time. The four years that had passed since she’d had Mae were enough for her to have forgotten how rough pregnancy was, especially now she’d just tipped over into her third trimester. 

He knew if he called her, if he told her he’d be even later than he thought, that she wouldn’t be mad at him. She’d say that she understood and she’d hand the phone over to Mae, would encourage the four-year-old to speak to him over the phone so he could at least say goodnight to her. Then, when he did get home, she’d kiss him hello and offer to make him a drink whilst he went to Mae’s bedroom to kiss her forehead and just watch her for a minute or two. Her face relaxed and her cheek pressed into the pillow as she hugged her favourite toy to her chest. Both she and Jack, and the little boy Emily was currently pregnant with, were a reminder that good things existed. That he had the life he once thought he’d never get a chance at again. 

There’s a knock on his office door and he sighs, shaking his head as he calls out for the person to come in, his pen already placed down on his desk.

At this rate, he’d get home to everyone already in bed. 

“You could look happier to see me,” Dave says, smirking at him as he leans against the doorframe, “I am your best friend after all.” 

“Emily is my best friend,” he corrects, leaning back in his chair. 

“She’s your wife.” 

Aaron smiles despite his irritation at being interrupted, “She’s my best friend too,” he says, his smile getting wider when Dave furrows his brow, “Have you ever thought this might be why none of your marriages worked out?”

He places his hand on his chest in mock hurt, “You know, you used to be a lot nicer before you married Emily,” he jokes, and they both laugh. 

“Is there a reason you’ve interrupted me?” Aaron asks, raising his eyebrow at him, “Or did you just come in to ruin my flow again?” 

“I’ve finished last month's budget reports for you,” he says, pulling them from behind his back and placing them on his desk, “All you need to do is sign them.” 

Aaron looks up at him, “I’m not going to unknowingly sign off on the department paying for your next book tour am I?” 

Dave chuckles and shrugs, “Guess you’re going to have to see how much you trust me,” he jokes, “You should just go home, Aaron. The paperwork will still be here tomorrow.” 

He sighs and nods, “I know. I wanted to make more progress than I have. Cruz has been breathing down my neck.” 

“You’ve got two kids and a pregnant wife, who happens to head up his Counterterrorism unit, at home. He’s not going to begrudge you going home,” he looks at his watch, “Especially when it’s already an hour past the end of your day.” 

Aaron knows he’s right, but old habits died hard. Even now he found himself getting sucked into work, although never as badly as he had when he was married to Haley. In some ways, he found that Emily's understanding of his job in the way she did helped, because if she ever asked him to take a step back it made him question himself, made him do as she asked of him. He wasn’t proud of it, wasn’t proud that Haley asking him had never been enough, but he knew it meant that he’d learnt from his past. That he hadn’t brought the mistakes from his first marriage into his second one. 

“You’re right, I’ll-” he’s cut off when he hears his phone ring, the vibration of it against the desk loud in the otherwise quiet office. He frowns at the withheld number and picks it up, sending Dave an apologetic smile as he answers, “Aaron Hotchner.” 

“Hi, Mr Hotchner, I’m Lisa, I’m an ER nurse at Stafford Hospital…” 

Everything slows down around him, his chest stuttering as time moves like syrup, every second sticking in the back of his throat, making it hard to breathe as he tightens his grip on his phone, surprised he doesn’t crush it as the nurse confirms what he already knows she’s going to say. 

“Your wife and children were brought in this evening after being involved in a car accident.” 

___

Emily wasn’t answering her phone. It doesn’t even ring. 

He calls her. Again and again and again and she doesn’t answer. Each time it goes straight to voicemail the sound of her voice on her personalised message makes him ache, his shoulders so tight as he drives he worries they may pop out of the joints. 

He tries again, presses the speed dial in his car but it goes to voicemail again. Her voice ringing out through the speakers around him. 

“Hi, you’ve reached Emily Prentiss, please leave a message after the tone and I’ll get back to you.” 

“Em, call me back, please,” he begs, ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him this might be the last time he hears her voice, that this will replace whatever she’d said to him when they left for work that morning in their separate cars, “I’m…please answer the phone. I love you.” 

It’s familiar. Too familiar. His hands tight on the steering wheel as he’s desperately trying to get to the woman he loves. Fear greeting him like an old friend as it breathes down his neck, its hand about to reach out for him and grab him by the shoulder. He tries to tell himself that it’s okay, that she and the kids are fine, but he can’t stop thinking that she hasn’t answered her phone. 

She would answer if everything was okay. She’d call him if everything was okay. 

He doesn’t remember a second of the journey by the time he makes it to the hospital. He flashes his badge at a security guard who tells him he can’t park where he’s pulled up, not caring if it’s an abuse of power. Every single cell in his body vibrating with fear and pre-emptive grief and guilt. He should have been with them. If he’d just gone home when he should have he would have been with them. 

He walks up to the desk in the ER, grateful there isn’t a line of people. He’s already speaking to the nurse before she looks up at him, all of the details he had spilling out of him in a second, words tripping themselves as he desperately gets them out.

“I got a call about my wife - Emily Prentiss, she’s pregnant. And my children Jack and Mae Hotchner. I was told they were in a car accident.” 

“Okay,” she says, looking at the computer, “Let me just check my system for them…” She drifts off as she types, and he hates how good he is at his job. Hates that he sees the very brief furrowing of her brows before she smiles up at him, “Did you say Prentiss?” 

“Yes,” he replies, his voice barely recognisable even to himself. 

“I’m sorry sir, I can’t see that we have any patients in the ER with that name, and I can’t see your children’s names either.” 

He grips the counter, his fingers pressed against cheap wood as he holds himself up, “What do you mean they aren’t on the system?” He demands, shouting at the young woman in front of him even if he doesn’t mean to, his desperation reaching an all time high. He finds himself wishing he’d taken up Dave’s offer of driving him here so that he wouldn’t be alone for this.

“It could mean a couple of things, it could mean they’ve already been discharged,” she swallows thickly, “Or, I’m so sorry but it could mean-”

“Dad?”

He turns around so fast at the sound of his son’s voice that he pulls his neck, but the pain that flares in it barely registers. All the anger and grief floods out of him in an instant the moment he sets eyes on him, on them, standing just a few feet away. Emily is standing next to Jack, her arm around his shoulders and the other arm securing Mae to her hip, the little girl’s face pressed against her neck. The only visible sign of injury is a bandage on Emily’s forehead, the stark white of the material a sight that is a little too familiar for his liking. 

“Oh my God,” he breathes out, making it to their sides in a few seconds, pulling them into his arms. His whole world in his embrace before he pulls back, dropping a kiss to Jack’s forehead and then turning to kiss his little girl’s and then finally his wife, “I thought…you didn’t answer your phone.”

“I know,” she says, unwrapping her arm from around Jack’s shoulder to cup Aaron’s cheek, her skin warm against his, “I’m so sorry baby. It was broken in the crash. Couldn’t even get it to turn on,” she looks over at the desk, a flash of irritation in her eyes, “And they wouldn’t let me call you myself.” 

“And you’re…” he looks her up and down now he’s closer and then at the kids, looking for cuts and injuries that weren’t there. 

“We’re okay. If I’d been in the car alone, if I wasn’t pregnant, I probably wouldn’t have come to the hospital,” she assures him, her hand slipping down to his neck, her thumb tracing back and forth over his jaw, “We all got looked at. We have some bruises from the seatbelts, and I hit my head on the steering wheel. But the doctors were happy to discharge us.” 

“You’re okay?” He asks, breathless, as if he’d run all the way here. He places his hand on her bump and the baby moves, the breath Aaron sucks in rattling back and forth between his ribs, “And the baby?” 

“He’s okay too,” Emily assures him, adjusting her hold on Mae. She turns to look at her, obvious fear shining in their daughter’s eyes and she tickles her to draw out a laugh, “We saw baby brother on the screen, huh?” 

Mae nods, her excitement at being a big sister overtaking everything else, “We saw his peni-”

“They said everything looks good. Told me what to look out for that would mean I had to come back in, and I have to arrange a check up with my OBGYN in a couple of days. We got new pictures,” Emily says, cutting over her toddler, not missing the poorly hidden smiles of amusement from some of the people sitting in the waiting room, and the horror on some of the other faces at a four-year-old knowing the anatomical terms for intimate body parts. She presses her lips together and looks at her husband, “I can show you when we get home?” 

“As long as the doctors are sure everyone is okay,” he says, “Maybe I should talk to someone, ask them to look at you all again.”

She smiles, passing over Mae so he has the comfort of their little girl in his arms, and he takes her willingly, stamping his lips against her forehead as he holds her close. She melts into his embrace, exhausted by the stress of what had happened, and he runs his hand soothingly up and down her back. 

“Honey,” Emily says, reaching for his hand, linking their fingers together so she can squeeze his palm against hers. “We’ve all been cleared. We’re okay. I promise. Right, kiddo?” 

Jack nods, “Right,” he smiles at his Dad, “Can we get pizza?” 

Aaron chuckles, the residual panic still simmering in his gut, but he clears his throat and nods, wanting more than anything to just get his family home where he could keep them safe, “Yeah buddy,” he says, ruffling his hair, “We can get pizza.”

___

“I have a feeling we’ll wake up with both of them in our bed,” Emily says as she walks into their bedroom, groaning as she sits down, her body aching in more ways than it usually did these days, “But they are both asleep.” She turns to look at Aaron. He’s sitting on the bed too, an arm's length away, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, “Honey-”

“What happened?”

She sighs and swallows thickly. They hadn’t spoken about it, not whilst the kids were with them. An unspoken agreement that they’d leave it until they went to bed. Neither one of them wanting Jack and Mae to relieve it when they were awake, when it was likely they would in their dreams. 

“It was low impact,” she says, shifting towards him until their thighs touch. The guy behind us wasn’t paying attention, he was on his phone,” she reaches for his hand when he tenses and links their fingers together, “He went into the back of us at a red light. He’d already been slowing down because he saw it go yellow, he just missed it going red.” 

“He could have killed you.”

“He rear-ended us.” 

He all but growls, “He was being careless.” 

She makes him look at her, her hand cupping his chin as she forces him to turn his head, “Something that I made very clear with a lot of colourful language Mae might start repeating during breakfast tomorrow morning.” 

Aaron sighs and kisses her knuckles, “What were you doing in the car anyway? I didn’t know you were going anywhere.” 

She presses her lips together, giving herself a moment before she answers the question she’d been dreading all night, well aware of what his reaction would be, “We were bringing you dinner.” 

His eyes go wide, the internalised anger she expected flashing in his eyes, frustration she knows he’s sending inwards for not being home on time written in the tension in his jaw.  What she doesn’t expect, what she doesn’t see coming despite knowing him better than she knows herself, is the way he bursts into tears. A sob caught in his chest that sounds like it hurts, cracking his ribs from the inside out, the sharp edges of them catching on scars that were already scattered across his skin. Like he’s tearing himself apart from the inside out in the same places another man once tore him apart from the outside in. 

“Aaron,” she breathes out, barely getting a second before he leans forward and presses his face against her neck, his tears burning her skin. She holds him close and turns her head to kiss his forehead. She blows out a shaky breath, seeing him this upset enough to tip her over the edge herself, “We’re okay-”

“I know you’re okay, Em,” he chokes out, tears leaving tracks on her neck, his words muffled against her collarbone as his misplaced anger turns into the grief he couldn’t shake off, “But I keep going back to that moment when I didn’t know that you were. It felt like…” he drifts off and chokes on the rest of his sentence, “It felt like my world was ending. If I lost you…” 

She pulls back so she can look at him, and she presses her forehead against his, her hand curled around the back of his head as she holds him in place, “Sweetheart,” she says, the nickname he usually used for her slipping free, “I’m right here,” she says, reaching for his hand to place it on her chest, making a point of breathing in and out deeply so he can feel the rise and fall of it, “I’m okay. The kids are safe and asleep in their beds,” she shifts their joint hands to her bump and she smiles when the baby kicks, “Baby boy is kicking up a storm as always. We’re right here. You didn’t lose any of us. This isn’t like what happened with Haley,” she reaches up and wipes a tear from his cheek, “We’re all right here.”

He chokes on a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. He shakes his head, making it knock gently against hers before he pulls back to look at her, “Sometimes I think you know me a little too well.” 

She shakes her head and squeezes the hand still pressed against her bump, “I’m your wife. I don’t think it’s possible for me to know you too well.” 

“I’m so-”

“I don’t want to hear any apologies,” she says, wiping his cheeks again, “Not for staying at the office late. Or for crying. You have nothing to apologise for, okay?” 

He nods, resting his forehead against hers, “Okay.” 

They wear a door open just down the hall, and then the thundering of Mae’s tiny feet against the hardwood floor. When she opens their door and pokes her head around it she has tears shining on her cheeks, her lips trembling as she steps into the room. 

“Mommy, Daddy, I had a bad dream.” 

Emily shifts back from Aaron just enough to make room for the little girl, “Come here, baby. Do you want to sleep in our bed tonight?” 

She nods as she climbs onto the bed, settling herself onto Aaron’s lap, “Yes please.” 

Aaron smiles and kisses the top of her head, “Well, since you asked so nicely.” 

Mae looks up at him and frowns when she spots his damn cheeks, “Are you sad Daddy?” 

“I’m okay, baby,” He sighs and runs his fingers through her hair, exchanging a quick look with Emily before he returns his attention to his little girl, “I was just scared because you, Jack, Mommy and baby brother could have been hurt.”

She moves so she’s level with his face, all but standing in his lap now, his hands on her waist as he secures her in place. She kisses his forehead, making both him and Emily smile, and then she pulls back, “We’re okay.” 

“I know, princess,” he kisses her forehead in return and encourages her to sit back down, “Are you okay to get comfortable in bed whilst Mommy and I get ready?”

She nods and then tilts her head curiously, waiting until both her parents are standing up before she speaks, “Daddy?” 

“Yes, Mae?” 

“What’s a douche canoe?”

[fxstpace]

the very first night

summary: the search for a new place to live takes a turn for the worse when the only person willing to split rent with you is your ex-boyfriend.

pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader genres: romance, angst, smut, exes to lovers!au, roommates!au word count: 19.7k

↳ warnings: profanity, alcohol conusmption, explicit sexual content (oral sex, fingering, protected sex) ↳ a/n: title is the very first night by taylor swift. reposted from my old blog.

ONE

You think that all the decisions you’ve made in your life so far have all boiled down to this one moment.

Karmic retribution, if you will.

Despite the six months for which you and your ex-boyfriend have been separated, Kim Mingyu looks the same. The same floppy hair that never quite sits flat on his head—though he’s let it grow a tiny bit, and now it curls behind his ears—and the same tight-fitting black shirt you swear you tried stealing from him once. Wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and warm brown eyes that peer back at you. Pink lips which beckon you with a small, yet welcoming smile.

“Hey.” The word drags from his mouth, and he extends the last syllable for a second longer than necessary. “You’re here early.”

Shit. Even his voice sounds the same.

You heft your suitcase and place it by your feet just so you can avoid eye contact. Under different circumstances, Mingyu probably wouldn’t have let you carry your suitcase all the way up the stairs to the third floor—the elevator has been out of commission since before you even met him, and that doesn’t appear to change anytime soon. He probably would have lugged the whole thing upstairs, despite your protests and claims that you’re strong enough to do it on your own. But now, you can only sense his gaze on your figure as you place it securely on the floor.

When you straighten up, he’s still looking at you. He has an eyebrow raised and his arms crossed over his chest, but his eyes are clouded, almost as if he’s built some kind of impenetrable fortress against you. You have your walls up, too—in the slight clench of your jaw and defiant raise of your chin—and it’s something someone else wouldn’t be able to notice, but you’re sure Kim Mingyu has.

“Yeah. Um.” You attempt to smile, pray it doesn’t visibly appear as a grimace, and gesture behind you with your thumb. “The packers and movers came by pretty early, so everything ended up moving faster.”

“I see.” He purses his lips, evidently running out of things to say. (Good for you, really, because there’s nothing for you to say either.)

You take the chance to glance behind him—a feat in itself, considering how broad his shoulders are—and observe the interiors of what is going to be your home for the next year. Beige walls, the ratty sofa he bought off a garage sale, the television set he originally used to play video games on but ended up using it to watch shows instead—and a potted succulent placed in the corner. That wasn’t there before.

Before you allow your lips to tug up amusedly, Mingyu speaks again. “Is that all? When’s the rest of your stuff coming in?”

“The movers said they’d have everything ready within two days. It might take me longer to get everything sorted out, though,” you reply, aiming your gaze downwards at your suitcase.

It’s an old thing, with fraying fabric and rusty wheels, but it currently contains a fraction of your belongings: Clothes, toiletry, a small pouch where you keep items that have a special significance to you. Only the bare essentials, really. Mingyu had assured you that the room was furnished, with a bed, closet and desk. His old roommate, Minghao, had moved out but left the furniture behind because he had no reason to take them with him—not when he moved in with his girlfriend in her own apartment. All that’s left for the movers to bring over is your bookshelf, your book collection, the rest of your clothes, the Ikea drawer you and your best friend, Park Jihyo, built together, and other smaller items like your desk lamp and office chair.

“That’s okay,” Mingyu says. “Take as long as you need.”

You nod, mumbling a “thank you”, then bend down to pick up your suitcase.

Mingyu moves aside, granting you enough space to roll it across the floor and head over to the side that leads to the Minghao’s old room. Right opposite you is the doorway that leads to Mingyu’s bedroom, and further to the side is the corridor that opens into the kitchen, the small space where he keeps a dining table, and the bathroom.

In a way, you’re glad your room is situated further away from those places. Ghosts of memories linger there, ones that you can’t bear to revisit.

No, it’s better this way; you’re away from everything that you used to consider a second home. Maybe if you close the door behind you, you can pretend like you’re in some kind of void where the only things that exist are you and the bed.

“Wait, Y/N.”

You pause, feeling… something. The way he says your name, so casually, as if it’s second nature to him (it used to be) and nothing has changed at all, has you on edge—not in the good way, but not in the bad way either. 

You turn around. “Yeah?”

“Um.” Your ex-boyfriend hesitates for a second. “I’m… going out for dinner with Minghao and some others, is that okay? It might be late by the time I come back.”

“Okay.” Then, feeling the need to clarify something, you say, “You—you don’t have to tell me that. We don’t… owe each other an explanation for where the other is.”

Mingyu stays quiet, and you look away, teeth worrying your bottom lip. You wonder if he’s going to say anything—or even show any kind of reaction at all. 

“Right. We don’t.” His voice is toned down with a kind of uneasiness that you don’t blame him for. Heck, even you feel a twinge of hurt rise up your throat at your own words. “I’ll… let you get some rest.” He nods once, places his hands in his pockets, and walks back to his room.

Your grip on the suitcase handle tightens. Once you enter your room, you let out a pained sigh. You shut the door and turn your back to the wooden blockade that separates you from the rest of the apartment.

This is not going the way you expected—but then again, what had you expected? That everything between you and Mingyu would just vanish and you could talk to him normally without feeling that tiny pinprick of bitterness stab your chest every time you address him? You and Mingyu have a history, filled with good times and bad times, and six months spent away from each other will do nothing to erase that. 

You think of what your old roommate, Jihyo, would’ve said. He’s just a boy, Y/N. Make him clean the toilet all the time so he’ll automatically get sick of you.

You smile to yourself, unlocking your phone. Jihyo is probably too busy settling down in her new home in the city she moved to, so she can’t pick up your call. You decide to send her a text message instead.

You switch to the food app, order your favourite dishes from the Indian place a couple of streets away, and toss your phone onto the bed. Kneeling, you unzip your suitcase and unpack the few items you have with you. As you move around, you can already imagine how to decorate the place, how to make it feel more like a home and less like you’re an intruder. The closet is just enough for all the clothes you own—the ones you’ve packed and the ones stored in cardboard boxes yet to arrive. The desk placed opposite to the bed is perfect for when you have to work on your laptop late at night; if you place your lamp on it, you might even forget that you’re not in your old apartment. The bed already has a mattress with clean linen on the bedspread. You place your old Looney Tunes duvet on it.

Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rings. You pause your unpacking to get the door and thank the delivery guy for the food. Mingyu has already left, judging by the lack of noise in the rest of the apartment. You just hope he doesn’t come back home drunk and shit-faced—that would definitely ruin the rest of your night, and the much-needed sleep you require. 

You decide not to use the kitchen table, instead opting to take the food containers into your room, where you can eat and watch a show at the same time. It’s lonely, but at least you can have your meal somewhere comfortable.

Your phone rings with notifications. You pick it up, carefully balancing the bowl of curry on your knee. 

(19:47) Jihyo: hows the apartment??? did u make mingyu clean the toilet yet?

(19:47) Mingyu: hey, i’m at a thai place. do you want anything to eat at home? i could get something packaged.

You smile at the first text, tense up at the second one, and place your phone down next to you. Not replying to either of their messages might be a bad idea, but right now, all you want is to have your spicy curry and naan in peace—your best friend and ex-boyfriend be damned.

TWO

It’s only after you move in with Mingyu that your separation from Jihyo truly sinks in. Now, there’s no one you can wake up at two in the morning because your period started and you ran out of pads, or gossip about that one campus couple who broke up in public at your favourite boba place.

Not to mention the fact that living with your ex-boyfriend is mildly awkward at best and stupidly melancholic at worst.

It’s been a week, but you and Mingyu seem to have figured out a way to work in tandem. It appears as though neither of you want to see the other—just yet, at least. He goes for a morning jog at six; your alarm rings at six. He comes back reeking of sweat at seven in the morning; you’re getting ready to leave for work by then. You do the dishes on the days he vacuums the apartment and vice versa. It leaves no room for conversation, other than the occasional greetings and small talk when you happen to cross paths.

In fact, ever since you purposefully ignored Mingyu’s text asking if you wanted anything from the Thai restaurant, he’s made a conscious effort at avoiding you.

You nearly jump out of your seat when someone taps your shoulder. “Hey.”

You turn around and meet your co-worker, Lee Seokmin’s eyes. He smiles at you, eyes curving into little crescents.

“Hi,” you say, smiling back automatically.

If there’s one person you can count on to bring a smile to your lips, even if it’s eight o’clock in the morning—at work, no less—it’s Lee Seokmin. His cheerful nature and lively personality is infectious. His happiness radiates outwards in waves that everyone gets swept up on. You might even consider yourself envious of how easily he sways everyone, with that exuberant smile and those good-natured compliments he doles out to everyone like they cost him nothing. (Which they don’t, you suppose.)

“Something on your mind?”

Your smile turns into a grimace. “You could tell?”

He gives you a little half-shrug, still smiling. “You had a weird, serious, think-y face. And before you come at me for think-y not being a real word—I’m very aware of that, thank you—it’s the best way I can describe you.”

“You chose think-y—” you bite back a chuckle— “as the best word to describe me? Come on, Seokmin, you can do better than that.”

“I can,” he agrees, “but only when the situation is appropriate.” His face turns grave, and he continues, “But seriously, Y/N. Did you have a rough night?”

His eyes roam over your face, evident concern shown in the curve of his lips and the slight dip of his eyebrows. You control your wince, wondering if the swollen bags underneath your eyes aren’t as concealed by your makeup as you thought. 

Rough week, more like. But you don’t say that to him. “Something like that,” you say.

“You moved out a while back, right? How’s the new place?”

“It’s… good. Close to the supermarket and all that. Everything is within, like, a ten-metre radius, so I don’t have to go very far to get things.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Seokmin says, and you can tell he really means it. “I bet you’re tired, though, with all that packing and unpacking and moving around.”

He bends closer, the front of his loosely tucked shirt just barely touching the back of your chair. This close, you can smell the faint scent of Seokmin’s deodorant and fabric softener. He taps his finger on the arm of your chair. “Do you want to get some coffee with me?”

“Um.” You look back at your laptop and the pile of binders next to it. Seokmin seems to know what you’re thinking, because he huffs and says, “C’mon, I’m sure Seungcheol wouldn’t mind if you took a coffee break.”

“I guess,” you return, flashing him a smile when he rolls your chair backwards to give you space to stand up.

Getting up, both of you weave your way to the third floor, where the only functioning coffee maker is housed. The elevator is too crowded and busy for you to use to get down from your position on the seventh floor, so you settle for using the stairs. Throughout the ten-minute walk (which effectively turns into a fifteen-minute one, thanks to him), Seokmin waves and greets every single fellow office worker you pass by. By name.

You roll your eyes and bite your lip to hold back your laugh when a young, female intern—probably still in college by the looks of it—flushes bright red because Seokmin complimented her barrette.

He catches your eye and grins. “What’s so funny?”

You shake your head good-naturedly. “It’s nothing. Carry on with whatever you were doing.”

“What was I doing?”

“Oh, you know,” you say airily, “making everyone fall head over heels for you because you’re just so nice.”

His grin only widens. “You make it sound as though being nice is a bad thing.”

“That’s not what I meant at all,” you protest. “I’m just— Greeting every single person you see? By name? How do you even know everyone in the building?”

“I just check their ID card,” he explains, shrugging slightly. “I read this WikiHow article that said if you speak to people using their name, it creates a good impression and makes you appear more confident than you really are.”

“Really?”

Humming, Seokmin nods, before adding slyly, “I’m not sure what you mean by making everyone fall in love with me, though.”

“Please,” you snort. “You’re way too charming for your own good—and I don’t mean that in a bad way.”

“You think so?” 

You can hear the smugness in his tone and you roll your eyes again. “Yes, I think so.”

“Then…” He trails off, gazing at the handrail.

Seokmin’s voice turns softer, more serious. Contemplation bleeds into his features, and when he speaks again, he lacks the bravado he had with all the other people he spoke to on your way down.

“Guess I better work on charming the right people, huh?” 

You blink, but before you can digest Seokmin’s words, he gives you another bright grin before rounding the corner and striding towards the coffee machine. You follow, the need for caffeine in your system overriding your instinct to mull over what your co-worker said. Unfortunately, it seems you and Seokmin aren’t the only ones who want coffee; a long queue runs ahead of you. Your coffee break might end up taking longer than you thought.

“So,” Seokmin casually drawls, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with his ID card’s lanyard. “Do you want to talk about your rough night?”

“I…” You pause and consider. 

Should you tell Seokmin? You trust him enough—you’ve known him for as long as you’ve been working in this company—and he’s always been friendly to you, offering you a ride home when both of you work overtime and paying for your food on the occasional visits to a café or a coffee shop. Besides, he’s the closest person you have to a friend, now that Jihyo lives in a different city and you can’t call her up whenever you feel like it. You decide to tread the waters first, only telling him the bare minimum.

“Hypothetically speaking,” you begin, “if you move in with someone you don’t like but have known for years, what would you do?”

“That’s a tough one.” He scratches his chin, pretending to think. “I guess it depends on the kind of past you share, y’know? But either way, I would try to… make peace with them, I guess. Like a ceasefire. Offer them an olive branch. Hypothetically speaking, of course.” He grins knowingly at the last bit and you shove his shoulder.

What Seokmin said makes sense. You and Mingyu are living together; your past relationship shouldn’t come in the way of talking to each other. But it does, so much more than it should. Try as hard as you might, every time you think of Kim Mingyu, the first thing that comes to your mind is all the kisses you’ve shared, the way his arms feel around you, how both of you broke the promises you made to each other—all because you were too proud and he was too stubborn. 

You still are proud. For all you know, Mingyu might still be stubborn. 

What a pair, you think drily.

You and Seokmin shuffle forwards. He stays silent, allowing you to process your thoughts and wonder how, exactly, you’re going to get over Mingyu and talk to him without feeling like your stomach is twisting into a million knots. 

Once you reach the coffee machine, Seokmin hands you a cup. “It’s hot,” he warns, before carefully handing you the styrofoam cup filled to the brim with the bitter brew. You cautiously take a sip, wincing when you almost burn your tongue and make a face at your co-worker when he chimes, “I told you.”

The walk back to your floor doesn’t take as long as the walk down. Before you part ways, Seokmin offers you a small smile and a pat on your shoulder.

“If you’re wondering how to approach your roommate,” he says, lowering his voice, “maybe start off by offering them food. Works like a charm every time.”

Food. Yeah, you can manage that. Dinner with your ex-boyfriend.

Should be a piece of cake.

THREE

Asking Mingyu if he would like to have dinner with you is decidedly not a piece of cake.

When he comes back home from work, Mingyu has only one trajectory: Travel in a straight line from the door to his bedroom, offering you a tight smile if he sees you along the way. His bag is always slung across one shoulder and his shirt is always untucked and his hair is always a wild mess. If his appearance wasn’t achingly familiar, you would probably laugh every time you see his unruly figure.

It takes a week for you to muster up the nerve to look Mingyu in the eye, after your conversation with Seokmin. He’s been pestering you incessantly, almost exactly like Jihyo. When you told her about Seokmin’s suggestion, she had been nothing short of enthusiastic. Your phone has been blowing up constantly with texts from her, egging you on and on and on to make a move first and raise the (hypothetical) white flag. 

“If you keep putting it off, you’re going to be very miserable for the rest of your immediate future,” was her reasoning when you called and spoke to her on the phone three days ago. “But also if you don’t fucking ask him to have a meal with you within the next week, I will fly over and have you both sit in a room, alone, and force you to talk.”

Both the options are pretty much the same. You didn’t have the energy to tell Jihyo that.

It’s on a Monday evening that you catch Mingyu and pop the question. A Monday evening that’s insignificant, really. Almost laughable at how normal the evening is. Mingyu unlocks the door, closes it while toeing his shoes off, and gives you the same tight smile—one where it doesn’t reach his eyes, his jaw is slightly clenched, and his lips thin into almost straight lines. 

“Mingyu.” Your voice comes out breathless, like you’ve been jogging for miles before coming to a stop in front of him. He pauses, wind-ruffled hair framing his face in cloudy wisps.

“Yeah?” 

“I—uh—” you force the words to tumble out of your lips, before you can overthink— “I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me?”

Mingyu purses his lips, looking at you warily. He’s careful, cautious, when he asks, “Is… there any special reason?”

You swallow. “No,” you say honestly, not allowing your eyes to tear away from his. “There isn’t. But I tried making lasagne today, and I would like to share it with someone.”

For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, only lets his bag fall into the crook of his arm. “Okay,” he says finally. “Let me just change and wash up.”

You nod, making your way to the kitchen to bring out the casserole. You’re not usually one for cooking—you prefer ordering takeout because it’s easier and they make the food better than you, anyway—but simply ordering food didn’t sit right with you. Lasagne is a dish you’ve made a few times before, and you would rather make something you’re familiar with instead of trying to whip up something new.

When you go back into the kitchen, you find Mingyu already there, bent over an open cupboard’s door as he fishes out some plates and cutlery. He’s wearing a loose white shirt and grey sweatpants, fringe falling freely over his forehead and obscuring his eyes. 

“Are our regular plates okay or do we need the china ones?” he asks, still bent over.

“Why do we need china plates? Wait, why do you even have china plates with you in the first place?”

He looks over at you and shrugs. “Dunno. Minghao had a china cutlery phase, I think.”

That does sound like a phase Xu Minghao would have.

“The regular ones are fine.” You don’t want to risk breaking Minghao’s precious cutlery.

While Mingyu wipes the plates with a dishcloth, you grab two mugs and pour orange juice from the fridge into them. You take one in each hand and follow Mingyu to the kitchen table, placing both of them on either side.

“Orange juice?” Mingyu’s eyebrows are raised.

“Yeah. So?” you challenge him, raising your eyebrows as well.

But he doesn’t say anything against your choice of beverage, only shrugs and mumbles, “We should really stock up on alcohol.”

Your lips twitch. You don’t allow yourself to smile.

Instead, you pull your chair back and sit down, steepling your fingers in front of you. Mingyu piles some food onto his plate. For some reason, you feel weirdly nervous. What if it’s not as good as you think? What if he doesn’t like it?

You shake those thoughts away. This is Kim Mingyu. Even if the food was bad, he wouldn’t tell you; he would only grin, compliment your culinary skills, and continue to eat despite everything.

“Is it… good?” you ask tentatively, after he takes a forkful into his mouth and chews deliberately.

He waits until he’s swallowed before answering. “It’s great. Really good,” he affirms, and you can hear in his voice that he means it.

Well, almost.

It’s the slight dip and intonation of his tone, but it’s one you’re familiar with. You narrow your eyes at him. Mingyu continues eating, oblivious to your glare. In fact, he shovels more lasagne onto his dish and eats with more gusto, pausing every now and then to gulp down some orange juice.

“Really?” you say casually. “I’m glad. Maybe I should try some too.”

Mingyu’s reaction is so instantaneous, it’s almost comical. His eyes widen by a fraction, and he immediately reaches for the casserole. “You should definitely try some,” he says. “But it’s so good, I wanna have some more.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching Mingyu stuff more food into his mouth before deciding to put him out of his misery.

“Mingyu. Tell me the truth. How’s the food?”

He pauses, swallowing the food in his mouth and answering with a subdued, sheepish smile:

“It’s too salty.”

FOUR

“Why are you leaving so early?” Jihyo’s voice crackles through your phone placed on your bed.

“Seokmin said he wanted to try out the croissants at the new bakery that opened nearby,” you reply, fiddling with the buttons of your shirt. “He also said he wanted to buy a baguette so that he could whack his roommate with it. Something about going all the way to Paris to buy it but his roommate used it to hammer a nail into the wall and broke it.”

A pause, and then, “Is his roommate okay in the head?”

“Good question.” You grin at your reflection in the mirror, pat down the hair at the back of your neck, and grab your phone. “I’m heading out now. I’ll text you later.”

“’kay,” your best friend says. “Tell Mingyu I said hi.”

“I will,” you say, but you already know you’re not going to greet him on behalf of her.

Things between you and Mingyu are… still pretty much the same, honestly. After that dinner fiasco, you’ve been too embarrassed to properly address him, and he’s not made much of an effort on his part. Or maybe you’ve been consciously avoiding him so much that he doesn’t get a chance to put his foot forward. Either way, your cheeks still burn up whenever you think of that night’s dinner, so for now, hiding in your room is quite possibly the only way you can prevent yourself from catching fire completely.

Stupid logic. You’re a grown adult, with the ability to make good judgements and make decisions. Unfortunately, your decisions are mostly borderline idiotic.

Shouldering your bag, you leave your room and head to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. There’s a Post-It note stuck on the refrigerator. Peeling it off the fridge’s door, you read it curiously.

Got some cookies from Minghao’s friend’s bakery. I’ve kept them in the pantry. Enjoy! :) 

Mingyu’s familiar scrawl is branded into your head, and seeing the yellow square of paper makes nostalgia bubble inside your chest like a bath bomb dropped into a bathtub filled with water. You pocket the note, and smile so widely, your cheeks hurt.

Maybe he’s put his foot forward, after all.

Seokmin is already waiting for you outside your apartment building by the time you go out. He grins at you, his eyes crinkling in the corners and teeth flashing happily. 

“Hi,” you greet him. “Did you wait long?”

“No.” Your co-worker shakes his head, still smiling. “I just got here, actually.”

“I’m glad.” You return his smile. “Should we head out?”

Seokmin nods. “Of course,” he says, and you fall into step with him. 

He has a never-ending list of topics to talk to you about—and for the most part, you’re glad that he’s so outgoing. In twenty minutes, you’ve learnt almost everything there is to know about his roommate, Jeonghan, his older sister, his fear of ladybugs (you snort out loud at that particular anecdote), and his favourite anime (Haikyu!! and One Piece). In return, you tell him about that time you and Jihyo accidentally walked into the wrong restroom at a bar, and how you got dumped by your high school crush because he thought you were better than him at playing basketball.

It’s comfortable. Talking to Seokmin always is. 

But you still don’t talk about Mingyu. You try hard to stop thinking of him, but he’s always there at the back of your mind, an unopened gift that you don’t unwrap. 

Finally, you and Seokmin round a corner and find yourselves standing in front of the just-opened bakery. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafts through the open door. An array of different types of breads and other desserts is placed carefully on a display at the counter, and the owner greets you with a welcoming smile.

“What do you want to have?” Seokmin asks, holding your elbow and leading you in.

You eye the basket of croissants. The buttery confection looks delicious, but so does the tray of muffins placed next to it. And the bagels placed beside the muffins. “I can’t decide.”

“How about one of everything?”

You glance at him to see if he’s joking, but Seokmin looks completely serious. “You’re kidding, right?” you say, grabbing his arm. “There’s no way I’m going to let you buy one of everything in this store!”

“I would,” Seokmin admits, a flush creeping up his neck, “if you asked me to.”

You groan. “Seokmin. Please don’t.”

“Alright, alright.” He raises his hands in defeat. “I’m just saying, if you wanted me to—”

“One croissant, please,” you interrupt, addressing the owner. “To go. And he will have…”

“Make that two croissants,” Seokmin finishes. “I’ll have whatever the lady’s having.”

“How gentlemanly of you.”

“I know.”

Seokmin pays for his croissant, and you pay for yours. The owner wraps them up and hands them to you, asking you to visit again. Once you exit, you unwrap yours and take a small bite. The bread is soft and melts in your mouth, leaving a sweet aftertaste. You take another bite, and it’s only then that you notice Seokmin looking at you, a corner of his lips turned upwards in a crooked smile and one hand in his pocket.

“What?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious. “Do I have crumbs on my face?”

“No,” he replies. “I just… I would really love to do this again, Y/N.”

Oh.

Seokmin looks at you so hopefully. Like he’s been waiting for this opportunity for a long time. Like he needs to get something off his chest. Like he never wants this moment to end.

“...I’d like that, too,” you say.

Somehow, the words leave a bitter taste in your mouth, one that even another mouthful of the sweet snack can’t erase.

FIVE

It’s getting late, and yet Kim Mingyu is hellbent on getting you to keep him company. The worst part is that it’s working—though you would never admit that to him.

Being friends with your ex isn’t that uncommon. You and Mingyu can be friends. But how long are you willing to put up with this ruse before it all blows up in your faces? Friendship between two people who used to date isn’t that much of a big deal—but that’s just it, isn’t it? You and Mingyu weren’t just two people who used to date.

How did you even let him talk you into spending time with him? Or maybe that’s all on you; you’ve never been able to say no to him. One minute you’re looking at his face and remembering the lasagne gone wrong, the next he’s asking if you want to watch a movie with him. Except neither of you have updated your Netflix subscription, so this was a bad idea all along.

Maybe talking to Mingyu is a bad idea. 

Maybe you should go back to your old ways, locking yourself up in your room and only acknowledging his presence when you happen to cross paths. 

But the socialite in you nags, what if he thinks you’re some kind of hermit who only comes out to eat and drink? Besides, he’s here now, right next to you on the sofa—keeping a respectable distance between your bodies—as he watches a rerun of America’s Next Top Model because it was the least shitty thing playing on all the channels you scrounged through fifteen minutes ago. 

Normally, you would be elated at the idea of poking fun at random reality shows, expressing your exasperation at the poorly-written scripted drama and the even worse acting. But even if the showoff between two aspiring models both named Jessica and sporting the same colour of fake tan and bleached blonde hair was somewhat interesting, you find your gaze keeps wandering to your ex-boyfriend.

You trace the contours of his face with your eyes—the cheekbones that jut out only slightly, the furrow created on his forehead as his eyebrows kiss, the way his honey-brown eyes stare at the screen in front of him with a focused intensity. Even the way his lips curve ever-so slightly upwards, despite him pressing them together, has you recalling just how soft they felt against your own. 

His warm, soft skin. The prominent collarbone that you used to press small kisses to whenever you wanted to get his attention. The moles scattered all over his body, creating a canvas for you to paint on by tracing them with your fingers. The flex of his fingers as he bunches them into a loose fist.

Everything about him is so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.

Even this semblance of friendship that has bridged the drawn-out distance between you both feels strange—as though somewhere in the back of your subconscious, you recognise that this camaraderie is either a really good thing or could go extremely wrong. You’re in the middle of that bridge, trying your best not to lean too much to the right or to the left, but even a slight misstep could lead to everything going downhill.

“Are you rooting for Jessice H. or Jessica C.?”

“Huh?” You blink, escaping your haze of thoughts. “I’m sorry—which one is which?”

Mingyu glances at you with a deadpan expression. “We’ve been watching them trying to one up each other for the past ten minutes.”

“Sorry.” You smile sheepishly. “Both of them look the same to me.”

“Fair enough,” he acquiesces, before returning his focus to the show. “It’s the fake tan, isn’t it? Although the hair is similar too… No wonder they’ve been arguing about who put on their mascara better—it looks identical.” 

You play along. “Or maybe it’s the supposed Gucci belts. I had no idea Gucci made handbags with fake crocodile skin.”

“The more you know…”

You laugh at that, and Mingyu looks at you—really looks, the same way he used to when you made a bad joke and giggled at it yourself. He looks at you with adoration written all over his face, in the upward twist of his lips and the crinkling in the corners of his eyes.

You clamp your mouth shut immediately, feeling a sense of nostalgia, longing and wistfulness seep into your skin, through your flesh and settle deep into your bones. 

Too much. It’s too much, and it’s way too early, and you don’t want to dwell on anything at the moment. So you do what you do best: You hide.

You tear your gaze off him and rub your palms on your old jeans. You hear Mingyu’s sharp intake of breath, but you force yourself not to look, not to think about him. 

“Hey, uh—I was supposed to call Jihyo right now,” you lie, and even you think it sounds lame coming out of your mouth, so there’s no way Mingyu can’t see through it.

“Y/N,” is all he says. 

You hate the way your chest clenches—just because he said your name—but what can you do? Escape the situation and never bring up the obvious elephant in the room?

Yeah. That’s exactly what you do. Making decisions isn’t your forte, but you’ll deal with the consequences of your actions later. Much, much later, if you can avoid it for as long as you’re living here.

You get up and make a beeline for your room, and Kim Mingyu doesn’t say anything to make you stop.

SIX

Whenever you faltered, Jihyo was your voice of reason. She would help you back to your feet, give you a solid nudge on your shoulder and list out the pros and cons of everything, allowing you to formulate your own opinion and come to a decision.

She isn’t being very helpful right now.

“Think about it,” she reasons. “Before, he was your ex. Now, he’s the guy you live with. You have to talk to him, no matter what.”

She’s right. She knows you know she’s right. You still refuse to acknowledge it, because pride comes before a fall, but you haven’t fallen yet. It’s more like you’re dangling off the precipice.

“How’s Jaehyun?” you say instead, referring to the guy she’s been crushing on ever since she moved to the new city.

Jihyo lets out an unimpressed sigh, the grainy image of her face on your phone screen contorting slightly. “Don’t think you’re being super smart by changing the topic, Y/N. And he’s fine. We went out for boba the other day.”

“Yeah?” You play with the fraying edge of the duvet thrown over your body. “That’s nice.”

Jihyo hums, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “And then he asked if we could hook up.”

You guffaw. “Really?”

“Yeah.” She nods vigorously, affirming her statement. “I said no, obviously.”

“Why? Afraid he’s too much to handle?”

“Please,” your best friend snorts. “Have you seen him? I think I’m too much for him to handle. He couldn’t even pay for the boba without tearing his pocket because he was too enthusiastic in getting his wallet out.”

You smile thinly. Jihyo might be poking fun at the man, but you can tell from the twinkle in her eyes and the way her voice is filled with infectious joy that she’s enamoured by him. You wish you could meet him in person. Instead, you have to settle for checking out his Instagram profile.

“Anyway,” she continues, stifling a yawn, “it’s late and I have to head out tomorrow. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” you say. “Good night. Don’t dream of Jaehyun.”

She flips her middle finger at you and you roll your eyes, pressing the end button. Just when you’re about to fluff your pillow so you can lie down, you hear a knock on your door.

“Y/N?” Mingyu sounds remarkably active, considering the fact that it’s currently fifteen minutes past midnight. “Are you awake?”

Curiosity compels you to answer honestly, “Yeah. Is everything okay?” 

You tread over to the door, swinging it open. Mingyu is in his sweatpants—a pair you know he only wears for bed—and a loose graphic T-shirt. You’re wearing pretty much the same attire, except your shirt is an old one, worn-out from your high school days, and it doesn't fit you that well anymore. You tug the hem over your hips consciously.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Yeah, everything’s okay. I was just…” He pauses, raising a hand and ruffling his hair. “Do you wanna get some ice cream?”

Of all possible things you expected Mingyu to ask you, this certainly wasn’t one of them. You blink, bemused. 

“Or—or we don’t have to,” he backtracks, when you don’t say anything immediately. “I was just craving something sweet, that’s all—”

“Okay,” you say, surprising yourself with your answer. Mingyu is trying to extend the olive branch you placed in between you both, and you have to appreciate that. Regardless of your personal feelings. Besides, Jihyo was right—he’s the guy you live with, and you need to be able to spend time with him. As friends. Nothing more.

“Okay.” He exhales, relieved. “It’s right across the street.”

“I think I know the one you’re talking about.”

The ice cream parlour is a ten-minute walk from your apartment, but walking with Mingyu makes time fly. He says something about mint chocolate being an underrated flavour, and you insinuate that it deserves to be, and just like that, conversation flows between you both as though your past is some kind of a fever dream.

Where Seokmin is a bright ray of sunshine lighting up your way on a cloudy day, Mingyu is moonlight, skittering over your figure and providing solace in the dark. Seokmin is infectious laughter and gleeful smiles; Mingyu is whispered jokes and shared silence.

Perhaps it’s those very qualities that made you fall so hard for the man next to you. You know for sure it’s those very qualities that still have you in his grip, even though he doesn’t know it. Maybe that’s why talking to him is awkward—because how do you move on from someone who captured your heart and kept it for safe-keeping but know that there’s one big, gaping hole in your chest where his heart is supposed to be? Even now, a small part of you belongs to Mingyu, like a little token which he’s kept locked up and hidden the key.

Six months is a long time, but neither you nor Mingyu seems to be able to bring up what happened. Maybe it’s for the best, you think. You would rather have a small bit of this domesticity that feels familiar than have everything blow up in your face because of the harsh words you exchanged.

You ignore the tightening in your chest and focus on the warmth pooling in your stomach when Mingyu grins and offers you a chance to redeem yourself when it comes to good ice cream flavours. You say mint chocolate is tolerable, but only because Mingyu likes it.

SEVEN

Seokmin drops by your cubicle almost every day now. He offers to drop you back home, too.

Each time, you smile but decline politely. You still feel guilty about saying that you would like to spend more time with him as well—but in your defence, you didn’t really lie; you do want to spend more time with him, but only as a friend. Seokmin didn’t specify how exactly he wants to go out with you.

It’s getting harder to say no, however. Seokmin is everything if not persistent, and his determination to take you out has you crumbling under his forlorn gaze and pleading words.

He doesn’t make your heart beat faster, or make butterflies erupt inside your belly. Being with Seokmin doesn’t come with bright fireworks or flashy songs. It’s finding the extraordinary in the mundane, and laughing yourselves silly over jokes that aren’t even that funny.

So. It’s not Mingyu, but Seokmin is nice and friendly and stable, and you think you can fall for him. You and Mingyu aren’t going to cross the threshold of friends ever again, anyway. There’s nothing stopping you from going out with Seokmin.

“Okay,” you say when he asks you again, a half-resigned look on his face when he assumes you’ll just say no again. 

The way his expression morphs to elation is worth it, you think. He surges forward, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers into your ear, and the joy he feels is infectious—as most good things with Seokmin are—so it’s no surprise that your cheeks are already hurting from smiling too hard.

When you update Jihyo about the latest turn of events, she tuts disapprovingly and says, “Have you told Mingyu?”

“No,” you say, feeling defensive. “I don’t have to tell him, do I?”

Your best friend waits for a beat. “You don’t, I guess.”

Mingyu interrupts your call then, and you quickly tell Jihyo you’ll text her later. He stands in the living room, holding up a pair of button down shirts, one in each hand, forehead creased and mouth downturned.

You lean against your doorway, amused. “You called?”

His face clears as he looks at you, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “I have this work event I need to attend tomorrow, but I don’t know what to wear.”

You observe the shirts he’s holding up. One is cream in colour, long-sleeved and ironed neatly. The other is black, with a thin white stripe along the collar and sleeves.

“The black one,” you say immediately. And then feel your cheeks heat up with your quick answer. In your defence, Kim Mingyu has always looked alarmingly handsome in black. Objectively speaking.

“I haven’t worn this one in a long time.” He brings it close to his face, squinting at it. “It probably stinks.”

“Smell it, then,” you say, chuckling at the mortified look on Mingyu’s face. “What? You’re telling me you’ve never worn your underwear inside out because you forgot to do the laundry? This isn’t that different.”

“I have never done anything of the sort.” He sniffs petulantly at you, before his eyes narrow. “Wait. Does that mean you’ve worn your underwear inside out?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Gross. I thought you knew me better than that.”

Mingyu tenses up at your offhand comment, and you look down, wondering why that even slipped out of your mouth in the first place. Of course you screw everything up just when things are going decently well. 

“I do,” he mumbles. “I do know you better than that.” When you look at him, he has a wan smile on his lips. “Which is why I’m going to trust your judgement and wear the black shirt. Even if it’s musty from sitting in the back of my closet for so long.”

“Oh, shut up,” you huff, walking over to him and grabbing the cloth out of his hand. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He only raises a single eyebrow at you.

That’s what prompts you to sniff at it. At his goddamn shirt. Like you’re one of those police dogs they use to find missing people.

It… doesn’t smell unpleasant. A little bit musty, like Mingyu said, but that can be attributed to him not wearing it often. Mostly, it smells of faint fabric softener and deodorant—and underneath it all, a scent that is solely Mingyu’s. (Pine and citrus and lavender, all mixed together, in a way that only Mingyu can pull off.)

“It smells fine,” you say, shoving it into Mingyu’s chest. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m not the one who grabbed it and shoved my face into it,” he says, “so who’s the real dramatic one here?”

“I didn’t shove my face into it!” You swat at his shoulder, but he laughs and dodges, eyes twinkling with playfulness.

“If you say so,” he returns, still chuckling to himself.

“When is this event?” 

“Tomorrow evening,” he answers.

“Both of us won’t be at home then,” you say, and he raises an eyebrow. “I… have a date tomorrow,” you explain, and regret it almost instantly. Why are you even telling him that? He doesn’t need to know.

“Oh,” is all he says, followed by a quieter, “Have fun.”

EIGHT

Seokmin picks you up at exactly six o’clock, wearing a loose button down shirt and slacks, and his hair styled carefully. He perks up as soon as you wave at him, jogging over to you with a smile.

“Hey,” he greets you. “You look good.”

You return his smile, tugging at the edge of your blouse and smoothing out your skirt. “Thank you. So do you.”

Seokmin’s grin brightens, which you didn’t even think was possible. “Thanks,” he says, and then gently takes hold of your elbow. “So… the plan for today is to take you out for dinner, and then a movie. How does that sound?”

“It sounds… good,” you say, letting him lead the way. It’s basic, yes, but you’re a firm believer in clichés—there’s a reason they become popular, after all.

He doesn’t stop talking, and neither do you. Throughout the entire half an hour dinner in some hole-in-the-wall diner that Seokmin discovered a month ago and serves the best blue lemonade mojitos you’ve ever tasted, and the entire two hour movie that’s way too boring for you to focus on the screen anyway, you and your co-worker keep up an endless stream of banter and silly anecdotes and you find yourself enjoying it more than you thought you would.

It’s refreshing, and when you and Seokmin finally make the walk back to your apartment, you find it difficult to let go of his hand. He pulls you to a stop in front of the building, rubbing his thumb gently across the back of your hand. 

His smile is as bright as ever, albeit tinged with slight disappointment. “So. I’ll see you on Monday, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding. “Thank you for today, Seokmin. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” he returns. “Listen, I—”

He’s interrupted by someone stumbling across the sidewalk—not someone, you realise. It’s two people, tightly coiled around each other in a manner that is entirely indecent for the public eye. But as they trip around one another—still holding each other tightly—your heart sinks deep into the pit of your stomach.

One of them is Mingyu.

The other person is some girl, hair falling loosely across her face, Mingyu’s fingers tangled into her tresses, while his other hand bunches up the material of her dress at her waist. They kiss and kiss and kiss, and you don’t tear your eyes away until Seokmin makes a noise of disgust.

He turns around, blocking your view of them and takes both your hands in his. “I… I’ll call you. Okay?”

You nod numbly. “Okay.”

Seokmin leaves with a bright smile and a lingering kiss on your cheek. You plaster a smile onto your lips until he moves out of your line of sight, after which you begin the arduous trek back to your—Mingyu’s—apartment. Normally, the three floors you climb aren’t much of a strenuous task; tonight, however, every step you take makes you feel like your legs are made of lead. 

You fumble in your purse for your key, the image of Mingyu kissing that girl not leaving your mind. It’s not supposed to hurt, you’re not supposed to be bothered by it. But it stings, like the biting cold on a freezing winter morning, making your fingers stiff and your ears chilly.

You hear footsteps right when you twist the key into the lock.

The last thing you see before you enter the apartment is Mingyu clambering up the staircase, clearly drunk but surprisingly upright. He has a lipstick stain leading from the corner of his mouth to his cheek, his hair is tousled—no doubt from someone running their hands through his silky locks—and his shirt is untucked and wrinkled.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you grab the door handle and step inside, because the last thing you want to confront is the fact that your feelings for Kim Mingyu might not be as forgotten as you believe.

Which is fine, all things considered, except Kim Mingyu doesn’t give a damn.

You let the door slam shut behind you before Mingyu can get in. Technically, it’s his house. Technically, he’s the one who has the right to lock you out.

Technically, you’re acting like a child throwing a tantrum, and technically, Mingyu is allowed to kiss whomever the fuck he wants. 

You wish Jihyo was here. She would ground you, make you see everything calmly and rationally. But she’s been having boy problems of her own (Jeong Jaehyun, who is decidedly not as romantic as Jihyo was led to believe), and the last thing you want is to dump your boy problems on her.

Besides, it’s no big deal. Right?

Mingyu lives here. He should have his own copy of the keys. He’s also drunk. (Drunk and half-laid, your mind helpfully reminds.)

Before you start overthinking about letting the door close behind you, you decide that what you really need is a warm shower. So you let your feet lead you to the bathroom directly, and don’t allow thoughts of ex-boyfriends and overly friendly co-workers to enter your brain.

You don’t hear the sound of keys turning in the lock the entire night, but you shove down the guilt that bubbles up your throat. It’s Mingyu’s fault for not carrying them with him wherever he goes; you’re not his caretaker, anyway. 

Your phone pings with a text message from Seokmin, and you pick it up.

(19:47) Seokmin: I had a great time today. Thanks for coming with me :) 

Despite the fact that you only have a towel wrapped around your body, and the fact that your hair is dripping wet, you feel a tingling warmth creep up your chest. 

NINE

Monday is a horrible day.

You woke up half an hour later than usual, which led to you rushing through your morning routine. Your clothes aren’t ironed, which is fine usually, but the shirt you pick doesn’t tuck in quite right and you don’t have the time to change it. You almost tripped over the curb in your rush to get to work and nearly spilled a cup of coffee—which is far too sweet for your liking, due to the dollop of sugar you added by accident—all over yourself. Your manager, Choi Seungcheol, doesn’t approve of the project portfolio you compiled, and the deadline is fast approaching, which means more late nights for you.

And to top it all off, your car engine won’t fucking start.

You’re really not in the mood for Seokmin and his exuberant enthusiasm, which is something he probably catches onto, considering the fact that he stands silently next to you, waiting for you to finish cursing the piece of metal you call a car. Once you’re done resisting the urge to burn down the automobile, Seokmin places a placating hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, training a concerned gaze over your figure. “I can drop you back home.”

“No, it’s fine,” you mutter sullenly. “I’ll just call a cab or something.”

“Y/N, please. It’s no trouble.” He pauses, and you glance at him, at the sympathetic crease of his forehead and the genuinity reflected in his eyes. It’s touching, and Seokmin flashes you a small smile. “I was gonna head over that way anyway—I wanted to get some stuff from that bakery we went to.”

“I—” You hesitate, and he takes the chance to slide in.

“You call the mechanic. I’ll wait for you in my car, okay?”

He scurries away, leaving you biting your lip and staring at your phone. You should probably call Mingyu; he can help. Knowing him, he would probably want to help, regardless of who was asking him. Instead, you search up the nearest mechanic shop and dial in their number, giving them the details of where you are. They arrive a couple of minutes later, and you watch as they hook your car onto their big tow truck and drive away.

Seokmin waves you over to his car, a sleek Hyundai that's probably a few years old but still looks brand new. He opens the door to the passenger seat with a smile before grabbing the stack of folders you had kept clutched to your chest. You let him take them. You’re far too tired to argue.

Briefly, your mind wanders to Mingyu—what he would do if you had told him. Probably run all the way here, your brain supplies, prompting a wry smile to form on your lips. You press them together when you think of Mingyu with that girl immediately afterwards.

The drive to your house is silent, only the rumble of Seokmin’s car and the soft noise of some interview playing on the radio filling the silence. He pulls to a stop near your apartment, bundles up your work folders in his arms and gestures for you to lead the way to your flat. 

The door swings open before you get the chance to pull out your key. Mingyu stands opposite you, dishevelled—just woken up from a nap, it seems. His mouth parts when he sees Seokmin standing behind you.

“Who’s this?” he asks by way of greeting.

You shift uncomfortably, wanting to say something, but the words stick to your throat like you’ve swallowed chewing gum. Seokmin reaches out from next to you, and you don’t need to see him to know he’s positively beaming.

“Hi, I’m Seokmin,” he says. “I work with Y/N.”

Mingyu shakes his hand, eyes roaming quizzically between you and Seokmin. “Nice to meet you,” he says distractedly. “I’m Mingyu, Y/N’s… roommate. And ex—”

“Come on in, Seokmin.” You glare at Mingyu. He only raises an eyebrow in retaliation. Seokmin coughs slightly, blows out a puff of air, and follows you inside.

“You can just…” You wave your hand around vaguely. Gritting your teeth does nothing to bring you out of your haze. It only exacerbates it.

“Did something happen?” Mingyu moves aside, but you feel his eyes on the back of your neck.

“Y/N’s car broke down,” Seokmin supplies. “It’s at the mechanic’s right now, so I offered to drop her back home.”

“I see.” His next statement is directed at you. “You could’ve called me. I would have come.”

It’s only then that you turn around and face him. He doesn’t move, gaze locked unwaveringly on your hunched-over figure. It’s almost like he’s challenging you to say something.

“I know that,” is all you say, voice low.

Mingyu nods. “Good.”

You avert your attention to Seokmin. He appears lost, gaping at both of you as though he can’t quite catch onto what’s going on. “Let’s go to my room, Seokmin. You can leave my stuff there.”

“Okay.” Seokmin nods, giving Mingyu a hesitant smile. “It was nice meeting you, Mingyu.”

“You too.”

It’s a tiny exchange, but it’s enough to cause a fissure inside your heart. Seokmin is always so nice. He gives out niceness like he’s handing out free candy to toddlers. The only time you’ve ever seen him get remotely angry was when another co-worker of yours forgot a pen drive containing a crucial presentation to an important client—even then, all he did was level a glare at her before calmly asking for a backup drive to be brought.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is like a burning ember. Calm one minute, and angry the next—and it’s the reason you love him, but it’s also the reason you broke things off. You and Mingyu are far too similar, hot-headed and careless to a fault, like two candle flames competing to see who can burn their wick the fastest. You didn’t burn the wick. You ended up burning each other instead. Let it not be said that playing with fire isn’t one of your specialties.

Seokmin lets out a breath that sounds like a huff and a sigh simultaneously as soon as he enters your room. “You can leave the stuff here,” you say, pointing at your desk.

He obliges, carefully placing the stack on the table. “That’s your roommate, huh? Y’know, when you said that you were living with someone you didn’t like, I didn’t think you meant your ex-boyfriend.”

You look away, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s… difficult. I needed a place to live and he was the only person who offered on short notice. It just happened.”

Seokmin nods understandingly, lips pursed in thought. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” you agree. “One of the nicest people I know.”

“Yeah?” Your co-worker lifts one corner of his lips in an amused half-smile. “What does that make me?”

The answer is on the tip of your tongue. You know Seokmin is expecting it. Hell, you’re expecting the words to just come out. The nicest guy of them all. That’s all you have to say.

“You’re… Lee Seokmin.” 

The words are flat on your tongue. Seokmin’s expression falls—just the tiniest bit, a crack in the foundation—but you feel a terrible weight in your stomach, pulling you down, down, down until your head sinks below the surface of the metaphorical waves and the water erases your existence. 

Seokmin is a nice guy—you know that, and you’ve reiterated it so many times. The only thing stopping you from being in a proper relationship with him is your ex-boyfriend, only separated from you by a wooden door and cement walls. Mingyu doesn’t like you anymore, not in the way he used to, and it’s clearly time for you to stop dwelling on what you had.

You swallow, looking at Seokmin directly. “And…” You take a step closer to him. “I consider myself lucky to have met you.”

Seokmin looks at you, his gaze unsteady, but he takes one of your hands in his. “Yeah?” His throat bobs when he speaks, and that’s how you know he’s nervous.

“Yeah,” you confirm, letting his fingers slip in between yours. 

He shuffles closer to you, and you can smell his woody cologne intermingled with sweat. You can count the moles on his face, see your reflection in his pupils. 

“Y/N, I really want to kiss—”

There’s a knock on your door, and you and Seokmin jump away from each other like a pair of schoolchildren getting caught doing something you’re not supposed to. Seokmin looks down at his feet; you clear your throat before letting out a hoarse, “Yes?”

“You left your phone outside,” Mingyu calls. “The mechanic just called.”

“Oh, um. I’ll be right there.” You turn back to Seokmin, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Of all possible times for Mingyu to be a cockblocker, why now? “S-sorry about that.”

“No, it’s—you’re fine,” he stammers out, clearly as out of it as you are. “I should probably leave too, I still need to stop by the bakery.”

“Oh, yeah!” you say. “I forgot. Do you want me to come with you?”

“It’s alright,” he says. “It’s getting dark outside and you need to get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you murmur. “Thank you for today, Seokmin. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Cursed your car to oblivion, probably,” he teases.

You flush, heat creeping up the back of your neck and ears. “That—you didn’t have to see that.”

“I thought it was cute,” he returns easily, corners of his lips twitching. 

Against your will, your lips twitch upwards too. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

Seokmin opens your door, and you follow him out of your room. He gives Mingyu a grin, says, “See you around,” and lets you close the door behind him. 

Mingyu crosses his arms over his chest. You glance at him. His eyebrows are knotted together, lips pressed into a stoic line. You bite the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Hey,” he begins, voice soft, “is that… your boyfriend?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Does it matter?”

He huffs, shifting from one foot to the other. “Yes—no. No, it doesn’t matter. I was just curious, okay?”

You open your mouth, then close it, at a loss for words. Are you and Seokmin together? Not really. Both of you haven’t done or said anything to define your relationship—if there is one in the romantic sense, at least. Seokmin wanted to kiss you, but Mingyu interrupted before anything could even happen—it’s your irritation at the day being shitty, and Mingyu being an asshole after everything he did that makes you roll your eyes at him and snap at him. “It’s none of your business.”

Mingyu’s face turns stony, a hardness to his features that you’ve only seen a few times before—it was directed at you the last time, too. “Okay. Fine. Sorry I asked.”

“Are you?” you retort, and before he can say anything to retaliate, you storm back into your room and lock the door.

Your heart feels like it’s been split into two, one half yearning for the comfort and familiarity that comes with still liking Mingyu, and the other excited to explore what Seokmin could offer you—and what he already has offered. But for now, you decide to get some sleep. Your heart can wait.

TEN 

Jihyo is back.

Jihyo is fucking back, and she’s standing in your—Mingyu’s—living room, arms wide open and a grin on her lips so wide, her eyes crinkle in the corners. It takes all of your willpower not to launch yourself into her arms. Instead, you slow down, toe your shoes off, let your bag drop to the floor, and then launch yourself into her arms.

She laughs at your overzealous demeanour, and you giggle into her hair. God, you’d missed her. Texting every day and video calling every weekend can only do so much, and it’s nothing compared to seeing her in person.

“Hi,” she says, pulling back enough to escape your cage-like hold around her body.

“Hi,” you greet back, smiling so wide and so hard, you can feel your ears pop. “You’re back.”

“I’m back.” She confirms your statement by nodding. “Only for a week, though.”

“Ah.”

Your best friend lets out a sheepish chuckle, and you take a step back. Her suitcase is on the floor next to her, and she’s kept her backpack on the sofa. “Are you gonna stay here?” you ask.

She winces. “No, there isn’t much space here. I booked a room at a hotel nearby. It’s, like, ten minutes by walk from here and it’s not very expensive either,” she assures.

“Okay,” you say, a little deflated. If Jihyo stayed with you, at least the awkwardness between you and Mingyu might be reduced by a small fraction. Her overbearing nature and ability to make conversation with literally anyone would be a lifesaver, given the situation you’ve dug yourself into.

A situation that she knows nothing about.

You haven’t had the time to keep Jihyo updated about the latest turn of events—not when she was busy juggling a relationship with her sort-of boyfriend, Jeong Jaehyun. She doesn’t know about Seokmin, and she doesn’t know about your lingering feelings for Mingyu.

“Hey, you’re back already.”

Speak of the devil. 

You turn around and find Mingyu leaning against the doorway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. You feel your breath hitch. He continues, “I guess Jihyo already beat me to it, huh?”

“You knew she was coming?” you ask him, almost accusatory. 

“You didn’t tell her?” Jihyo echos, a curious tinge to her tone.

He lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug, lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile. “Wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”

Against your will, you find yourself grinning at him. Mingyu dissolves in the slightest—a small hint of surprise—before he grins back at you, teeth flashing and eyes crinkling. Jihyo lets out a small huff from next to you, but you know nothing can put a damper on your mood right now. Not even your resurfaced feelings for Mingyu, nor your newfound ones for Seokmin.

Your best friend squeezes your arm. “I have some time before I need to check in at the hotel. Do you wanna check out our old place?”

You turn to her and nod. The prospect of going back to the place where you created cherished memories with someone so dear to you is enticing; then you remember your car is still at the mechanic’s. “My car is out of commission.”

Jihyo only turns and stares at Mingyu. He sighs resignedly, pushing himself off the doorway and heading inside his room. “Let me grab my keys.”

“Might as well stop for ice cream along the way,” Jihyo calls out gleefully to his retreating back. 

You gulp. This… might not be a good idea. If Mingyu tags along with you, this would be the first time since last week where you’re speaking to him normally, making conversation that isn’t just along the lines of “Did you do the laundry?” or “I bought some vegetables”. Of course, if you told Jihyo what happened, she would immediately make sure Mingyu doesn’t come. You chew on your bottom lip, but before you can come to a decision, Mingyu emerges from his bedroom, car keys dangling off his fingers.

“Ready?” he asks.

Jihyo grabs onto your arm, excitement so visible on her face that it prompts the tension in your own features to melt away. You let yourself get carried away by her giddiness, not noticing the fond glances the only male in the group keeps giving you whenever he’s sure you’re not looking. If you’d met his eyes once throughout the drive to your old place, you’d see the way his eyes still twinkle at you with the same intensity as they did months ago, but you’re too busy catching up with Jihyo to notice.

Mingyu pulls to a stop in front of your old apartment building—a dilapidated structure that’s not half as modern as the current building you stay in. At least the elevator is still functioning; you purse your lips to contain your laugh when Mingyu looks at it, eyebrows raised in visible astonishment. Jihyo grips your hand tightly when you reach your floor. You tighten your hold on her hand as well, feeling a sudden burst of emotion erupt inside your chest like lava escaping from a volcano.

You and Jihyo round the corner to the apartment that used to be yours, Mingyu following closely. The door is the same dull brown it was back then as well, but someone has put in the effort to redo the varnish. There’s a potted fern next to it as well. 

You let out a shuddering breath. Jihyo wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close; you aren’t sure if it’s just the wind rattling through the open window, but you hear something like a sniffle.

This is the place you lived in when you had your first boyfriend, when you had your first heartbreak, when you cried your lungs out at some stupid TV show that you were invested in at the time but can’t possibly remember the name of now. This is the place where you and Jihyo bonded over crappy supermarket deals and made a mess of the kitchen whenever you tried to learn how to cook something new.

This is the place where you first met Kim Mingyu.

You tilt your head at him, watch as he stares resolutely ahead of him, like if glares at it strongly enough, he can bore two holes straight through the wood. Eventually, his eyes land on yours.

His lips part but no words come out. He offers you a small smile instead, one so tender and heart-warming and achingly familiar. You blink, and the moment is gone. You’re left with the same sense of wistfulness and longing that you always feel around him. 

Jihyo squeezes your shoulder, eyes shining. “Should we ring the bell?” she asks, and then presses the doorbell before you can respond.

A muffled “Coming!” from inside, and the latch is pulled open to reveal a college student—a few years younger than you, perhaps, with sleep bags underneath his eyes and a cup of coffee clutched to his chest. He looks confused—as anyone would be, you suppose, when you see a random bunch of strangers standing on your doorstep—but his expression clears when Jihyo explains who you are and why you’re here.

He says he’s living here with his boyfriend and their pet cat—a beautiful Siberian who coils itself around his legs, tail upturned—and you feel your heart swell with the knowledge that your old haven is being taken care of well. Jihyo consistently badgers him with questions and he answers each one patiently, to his credit. 

A flicker of uncertainty crosses your mind, however. Does Mingyu not remember this? He was looking for apartments in this building, too, when you met him. Doesn’t he remember the old landlady conversing with you? Doesn’t he remember the way people constantly asked if you two were together, which is what even prompted him to ask for your number in the first place? 

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when you feel a slight pressure on your shoulder. Mingyu’s hand is on your shoulder. Your gaze flits over to him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, ducking his head. “There was a mosquito.”

He’s lying. 

He remembers. 

ELEVEN

“Spill.”

“The… tea?” you ask cautiously, looking at Jihyo. She’s holding a steaming mug of tea in her hand.

“You think you’re so funny.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know I am,” you quip, and she rolls her eyes again, taking a sip of the beverage.

“You’ve been distracted since yesterday,” she states matter-of-factly. “Since we went to our old place.” Her voice quietens, “Is it Mingyu? Did he do something?”

You eye her warily, sitting down on the plush armchair opposite her. “No,” you say.

“Then what is it? Did—did you not want me here?”

“No.” You’re quick to alleviate her concerns. “Of fucking course I wanted you here. I missed you. So much.”

Your best friend smiles at that, swirling the tea in the mug. “But something’s bothering you.”

“...Yes.” You admit it slowly, playing with your fingers splayed out on your lap. “It’s not important. You’re here only for a few days, we should do something fun.”

“Y/N,” Jihyo says slowly, enunciating every syllable of your name like she’s speaking to a troublesome child, “if you’re worried about me feeling bad or anything, please don’t. I want to help you.”

You wave her away. “You have your own shit to deal with.”

“What, you mean Jaehyun?” She snorts. “I’m over him. I was over him ages ago.”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Just.” You look down at your feet. “You really liked him, didn’t you?”

Jihyo cocks her head to the side, studying you carefully. “Yes. I did. What about it?”

Your shoulder slump, dejectedness seeping into your figure. “How… did you do it?” You glance up at her, note the way she observes you carefully. Your voice is almost pleading when you continue, “How did you get over him?”

Your best friend’s expression clears, comprehension dawning on her face. She places her mug down, leaning forward and clasping your hand with hers. “It’s Mingyu, isn’t it?”

You shake your head miserably. “Not just him.”

“There’s someone else?” She doesn’t sound surprised, only intrigued and concerned.

You take a deep breath, lock gazes with her—and everything comes spilling out of your mouth like the tide receding into the ocean. You tell her everything, about Mingyu and Seokmin and how conflicted they make you feel; how one is like the living personification of sunlight on a gloomy day, and the other reminds you of clouds providing shade on a hot afternoon. You tell her about how guilty you feel, as though you’re leading Seokmin to believe that you’re ready for a committed relationship when a part of your heart still belongs to Mingyu. You speak until the words end up garbled and slurred, and your breathing turns heavy and salt water streaks across your cheeks, your best friend rubbing them away with the pad of her thumb.

When you don’t know what to say, Jihyo pulls you into a hug—it’s an awkward position, your elbows locked around her arms while your neck is bent at an odd angle, but it’s comforting, and you let your eyes close tiredly. 

“Y/N,” she says, rubbing her thumb on your shoulder soothingly. “I know it’s hard for you to decide, but you have to know: What do you want?”

The question makes you contemplate. What do you want? 

“I don’t know,” is all you can get out, slumping further into her arms.

She hums softly. “But you’ll figure it out. I know you will.”

Will you? You’re not so sure. Maybe when the time is right. But for now, you rest your chin on your best friend’s shoulder and let her rub circles onto your skin.

You pull back when the position becomes too uncomfortable—you can already feel a crick in your neck—and Jihyo wraps her fingers around her discarded mug. She raises it in a half-hearted toast. “To sexy girls who don’t need men in their lives.”

You giggle, rubbing your eyes. “Men are pieces of shit, anyway.”

“Damn right they are,” she croons, falling dramatically back onto the couch. “We should just get married instead.”

“If you propose to me the right way, maybe I’ll consider it.”

Jihyo grins at you, and it’s infectious enough to make you grin back at her. “Consider it done,” she says. “I have a ring in my nightstand drawer with your name written on it.”

“If it’s not pure diamond, I won’t accept.”

“Tsk. So greedy.”

TWELVE

Introducing Seokmin to Jihyo was not a part of your agenda for the week.

But it’s Seokmin and it’s Jihyo, so really, what else did you expect? Both of them integrated themselves seamlessly into your life, and they have no plans of leaving anytime soon. Might as well get the introductions over with.

Ironically, it happens when you go to collect your car from the mechanic’s, and once they’ve exchanged names and small talk, Jihyo and Seokmin are inseparable. The former regals him with tales of your college shenanigans, while the latter listens enthusiastically, eyes flitting between you both amusedly.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you hurriedly interrupt the conversation, right before Jihyo can go into the messy details of how you wanted to marry the toilet when you were drunk once and Mingyu had to physically carry you out of the house because you were convinced the white ceramic was proposing to you.

“You and Mingyu were together for a long time, huh?” Seokmin asks you quietly, once Jihyo is finished with her sulking at you interrupting her story. She’s at the side, conversing with someone on the phone, leaving you and your co-worker alone in front of your car.

You’re so startled by the question, you nearly drop your keys. “I—why do you ask?” 

Seokmin licks his lips, a seriousness to his figure that you haven’t witnessed many times before. “Just… curious, I suppose.”

You look down once, see how he’s twisted his fingers together—even the Lee Seokmin gets nervous, after all—and look back up at him. “Yes,” you admit softly, voice hitching slightly, “we were. We… were in love, I guess you could say.”

He’s silent for a minute, tongue darting out to lick his lips again. “And now?”

“I don’t know, Seokmin,” you answer him honestly. Your heart flutters inside your chest, while your stomach twists into tight knots—two reactions you didn’t think would go hand-in-hand, yet here you are, leaving your heart bare for Seokmin to take while gatekeeping a part of it to yourself.

He raises his head, warm eyes capturing yours. You see the smallest flicker of hope and sadness, two thin wisps of emotion dancing in his eyes—but even then, his lips are turned upwards, because it’s Lee Seokmin. 

“But you could try?” he asks, so softly you can barely catch the words.

You push down the emotions that threaten to swallow you whole, swirling around your entire body like the blood that flows through your veins. “I don’t know,” you say again, no less honest than the first time.

He opens his mouth, but Jihyo walks back to you both, mouth downturned. “My company said they need me back as soon as possible.” She says it calmly, but disappointment and bitterness seep into her voice.

For a moment, you freeze, and then ask, “When do you need to leave?”

“Tomorrow,” she answers with an apologetic shrug of her shoulders. “They’ve already booked the flight.”

“Okay.” You nod. “I’ll drop you to the airport.”

“I’ll come with,” Seokmin chimes in, and adds, in true Seokmin fashion, “Make sure Y/N doesn’t drive us all into a ditch or something.”

You shove his shoulder, muttering an “asshole” under your breath, and his smile only widens. Jihyo glances in between you both, lower lip caught between her teeth, before she sucks in a breath and smiles. “Good to know my best friend is in good hands.”

“The best hands, actually,” Seokmin teasingly corrects. 

You roll your eyes at the two of them. “Can we go home now, or not?”

“Home it is,” Jihyo agrees, “but first, I demand Taco Bell.”

“Fine,” you concede, letting her grab the keys from your outstretched palm. 

Seokmin grabs your hand once she clambers into your fixed car. His palm is broad, skin warm, and his fingers wrap around yours with ease. He squeezes your hand once, gently, and it feels like a promise and a farewell at the same time.

Seokmin asks you out again three days after Jihyo leaves. 

This time, he takes you out to an Italian restaurant. He’s dressed up in a suit and a bowtie—and actual blue velvet bowtie that sits snugly at the hollow of his neck—and he’s the perfect gentleman, pulling your chair out for you and pouring champagne into your glass like a professional. (When you compliment him on his drink-pouring skills, he just mutters bashfully about how his dad taught him that to please a lady, you need to be good at pouring drinks; it does nothing to ease the quickening pace of your heart.)

Lee Seokmin compliments your dress, says that that specific shade of pink looks beautiful on you. He recommends you try out their vegetable lasagne, says it’s one of the dishes the restaurant is famous for. He laughs about his favourite show, tells you he would love to rewatch it with you someday. He asks if you like gardens because his neighbour is trying to convince him to grow a rosebush outside his house, but he can’t look after plants even if his life depended on it. He wants to go out for ice cream afterwards, but the night is too chilly for the cold dessert so you opt against it.

Throughout, you play someone who’s on her first date, who thinks this is all there is and everything she’s been dreaming of has come true.

You would like to think you’re a good actor.

Kim Mingyu has seen you in nothing but sweatpants and old t-shirts and he used to whisper praises against your skin, flushed with sweat and sweet words. He ate the shitty lasagne you made without complaining, no matter how bad it tasted. He watched whatever was playing on television with you, just because he enjoyed your company and wanted to be wherever you were. He’s not particularly good with plants, but he has a little succulent named Spurt, making sure it gets enough sunlight and water. He likes mint chocolate ice cream, and would defend the flavour with his life.

Kim Mingyu and Lee Seokmin: Two sides of the same coin.

Jihyo’s question resonates in your mind as you and Seokmin walk back to your car.

What do you want?

As you near your vehicle, Seokmin puts a gentle hand on your arm. “Y/N,” is all he says, and you hate the way your chest clenches at that—just because he said your name.

“Did you have fun today?” he continues, eyes roaming over your features like he’s committing you to memory. Like a soldier leaving his wife before he heads out to the frontlines.

“I did, Seokmin. I really did.” You place your hand over his, tracing the veins on the back of his hand, pressing lightly on his knuckles; you need him to know that you truly enjoyed today—desperate for him to know, because it’s the least you can do for him after everything he’s done for you.

“Good,” he says. “I—I had fun today with you, too. I always have fun when I’m with you, Y/N.”

He bends down. You can feel his breath fan out on the shell of your ear and it makes you shiver. He turns his head, and his lips brush against your cheek. A small, soft farewell. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t—” you begin, feeling your voice begin to wobble.

“Don’t be sorry,” Seokmin whispers, but he sounds firm. “We’re still friends.”

Your heart plummets deep, deep down, a free fall that isn’t orchestrated by gravity. You think you know the answer to Jihyo’s question now.

“Thank you,” you whisper back to Seokmin.

THIRTEEN

The light is on when you enter the apartment. Mingyu’s figure lies hunched on the sofa, head in his hands, a half-empty beer can next to him. You quickly shuck off your heels and drop your purse onto the shoe rack.

Your ex-boyfriend looks at you when pad over to the living room. “You’re back.” He sounds hoarse, tired. 

“Have you been drinking?” you say in return, raising an eyebrow. 

Mingyu glances at the can in his hand then back at you. “Yeah. Long day.”

“Me too,” you admit quietly.

Perhaps it’s the quiet ambience of your shared home—silent, despite the noise of the city outside—that compels him; or maybe it’s the idea of coming home to someone you think you know better than the back of your own hand. Either way, when Mingyu pats the cushion beside him, your feet move automatically and you sit down, letting out a weary sigh.

It’s quiet, but not in the awkward sense. Not like back then, when Mingyu thought you and Seokmin were dating. Not even when you visited your old apartment. Exhaustion makes its home in your bones, and you suspect it’s taken over Mingyu too; there’s no way this shared piece of night can be so comfortable otherwise.

“Want some?” he asks after a few minutes.

“No thanks.”

Mingyu shrugs and puts the can down on the coffee table. “Wanna talk about it?” He leans back against the sofa, arms crossed behind his head.

“No,” you answer, and then, “Do you?”

“No.” He clears his throat, glancing sideways at you. “Were you with… Seokmin?”

“...Yes.”

You don’t have to look at Mingyu to know he’s clenching his jaw. It’s a pure rush of adrenaline that makes you ask, “Why does it bother you so much whenever I’m with him?”

Silence.

You turn your head, cheek brushing against the back of the sofa. Mingyu’s eyes are closed, hair falling in loose strands around his forehead and neck. You wonder what he’s thinking.

His answer excites you—in the rawest form possible. Anticipation builds up in your chest, threatens to explode through your windpipe. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but when he opens his eyes and meets your gaze, there is nothing you can do to stop your heart from rabbiting inside your rib cage.

“It doesn’t,” he says finally, an air of decisiveness about him.

For the second time that night, your heart plummets, and you tear your eyes off him. “Okay,” you say. “That is, um, good information to have.”

“Isn’t he your boyfriend?” 

“How does it matter to you?”

Mingyu crosses and uncrosses his ankles, this time staring resolutely at the floor. “I don’t know. It just does.”

You purse your lips. He isn’t being fair to you. “What about you?” you demand. “What about that girl you almost brought back home, huh?”

His mouth twitches. “You saw that.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“I’m not blind, Mingyu,” you retort.

Your roommate lets out a sardonic chuckle at that, slowly dragging his eyes up. “I highly doubt that.”

“What do you mean?” You scowl at him, feeling your chest begin to heave. “You—you’re like some kind of a riddle, Mingyu. I can never tell what you mean by anything, and it’s even worse now that you’re drunk and—”

“I’m not drunk, Y/N,” he interrupts. 

“I don’t care if you’re drunk or not—” you don’t realise your voice is caving in, growing softer and softer by the second— “stop saying things you don’t mean.”

“I want to kiss you,” he says finally. “I want to kiss you and I may be slightly drunk, but I don’t fucking care. And I mean it.”

You swallow, blood pounding through your veins. “Say that again.”

“What?” he says, sounding genuinely confused. His gaze never leaves your face, every ounce of earnestness and honesty written plainly on his features.

“Say it again,” you repeat.

“I want—”

You surge forward, capturing his lips with yours, pressing them firmly against his even when he lets out a muffled gasp. He doesn’t kiss back immediately, but his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly and crumpling the flimsy material of your dress. He kisses you back then, mouth jutting insistently into yours, tongue sliding against your lower lip. You arch your back, scramble to find some balance in this precarious position, and your hands end up tangled in his hair. He tastes like beer and aftershave and something that’s so distinctly Mingyu, you want more.

You pull away when air becomes a necessity, blinking even as Mingyu’s arms pull you closer to him.

“This isn’t over,” you manage to get out in between huffed breaths.

“Tomorrow,” he promises, but his eyes are glazed. He looks at you like a man starved, and tilts his head and kisses you again, kisses you like he might never see you again. 

You let him. It’s Kim Mingyu, after all, and you’ve always been a little weak for him.

You don’t think of Seokmin; don’t let him come out of the tiny pocket you’ve preserved in your heart just for him. Instead, you wrap your arms around your ex-boyfriend’s neck, leaning into his chest and kissing him back with equal fervour, letting him know that you need him as much as he needs you.

God, you’d missed him. Way more than you thought. You’ve memorised his touch, branded it into your mind, but it still feels new. Like the first time you were with him, kissing like two teenagers with reckless abandon. 

His cold fingers find their way underneath your waist, hitching up the loose material of your dress around your thighs. You kneel on the couch cushions in front of him, almost straddling his lap but not quite. His fingers brush against your sides in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

He nips at your lip, asking for entrance to your mouth to which you accept, parting your lips enough for him to get a taste. As he moves his tongue around yours, exploring your mouth in every way possible, you can’t contain the slight whimper that escapes your throat. 

Mingyu groans, leaning his weight onto you as you both start moving together until you’re laid flat against the couch. He’s impatient, you can tell; his fingers dig into your skin, and he groans again when you bite down gently on his lower lip. He pulls back and moves downwards, kissing your jaw and behind your ear, suckling gently on a sensitive bit of skin with expertise. “Tell me to stop,” he says, whispering the words against your skin.

All you do is moan in response, rubbing your thighs together to get some friction with the way he’s moving his mouth against your skin. 

“Tell me to stop,” he says again, more firmly this time.

“Shut the fuck up, Gyu,” is all you reply with, the nickname falling out of your lips with familiarity. 

Maybe it’s the use of something that used to be your thing—something the two of you shared, the shortened version of his name—but hearing it come out of your lips again does things to Mingyu that he isn’t sure he’d ever be able to put into words for you. Trailing his movements down to your neck, he stops at your chest, a small smile spreading on his face. “Forgot how much I loved it when you called me that.”

Looking down at him, you hadn’t realised he’s moved further down your body and his fingers trace the edges of your underwear. Your dress is bunched up above your thighs, skin exposed to the cool air. “Gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbles, pressing a tiny kiss to the inside of your thighs. He toys with the elastic of the waistband, chuckling when you shoot him an irritated glare.

He stares down at your clothed core, mouth watering while his hands move faster than you can comprehend. It takes him two seconds to hook his slender fingers underneath the waistband of your panties before he pulls them down to your ankles and tosses them onto the coffee table. 

You feel a wave of shyness overcome you—with the way he’s looking at you, desperate for your taste—and you try to close your legs, before his hands land on your thighs, halting your actions. “So pretty,” he murmurs. “I want to see all of you.”

Heat burns your cheeks and flows through your body. You turn your head to avoid his burning gaze as you feel him part your legs. He readjusts himself, laying as flat and comfortably as he can with what little space he has on the couch until he’s face-to-face with where you need him most. He tests the waters, leaning in with his tongue out, letting it graze your clit. You stifle a moan, biting your lip so hard, you think it might bleed.

He smiles, loving how you’re holding back. “So quiet, baby. Wanna remember how I used to make you feel.” Laying his tongue flat against your clit, he gives you slow and soft strokes—so gentle that it drives you insane. 

“You’re such—such a tease,” you gasp out, right when he swirls his tongue around the nub.

Mingyu only raises an eyebrow at that. “You haven’t changed.” But all the same, any plans he had to be patient with you go straight out the window; he wraps his arms around your thighs to pull you down further to his face. The sudden pull surprises you, and you gasp a little while searching for something to grab onto. He indulges in your pussy, tongue exploring your pulsating hole that clenches around everything and nothing all at once. He relishes in the way you feel on his tongue, groaning against your folds while bringing a hand up and rubbing his thumb on your neglected clit. 

You’re a mess under his touch, squirming on the sofa, loud groans and soft mewls escaping your lips wantonly. Your fingers find their way into his soft locks, pulling gently on his hair and scratching against his scalp. He lets out a moan against your pussy, lapping at your juices as if you’re his last source of water. “F-fuck, Gyu, ‘m gonna—” a gasp— “‘m gonna cum.”

This only encourages him to work his mouth harder, wanting to watch you fall apart just by his mouth alone. You tug harder at his hair, moans growing louder and more desperate by the second, and your thighs shudder around his head, feeling the rush of your high come so close, you aren’t prepared for it.

With two final sucks to your clit, you come undone on his tongue followed by a string of moans with broken pieces of his name somewhere in between. Mingyu looks up at you with bright eyes and a satisfied grin, as if he didn’t just eat out your pussy like he would never get the chance to again. The mixture of saliva and your juices dripping down his chin makes your eyes widen even as you squint down at him. 

With careful, deliberate motions, he moves away from you, the grin on his face replaced by a more serious expression. You sit up, leaning on your elbows. The aftermath of your passionate actions catches up to you; reaching over, you snatch your panties from the coffee table and swing your legs over. Throughout, Mingyu doesn’t say anything. He only watches, in that quiet, observant way of his, swiping at his mouth and chin with a tissue he grabbed from the tissue box next to the couch.

You glance at him. Is he going to say something? Or is he going to let you walk away again, with all the words you want to say to him lying on the tip of your tongue, always there but never released?

“Y/N.” He scrambles to his feet when you stand up, clutching your underwear in one hand and adjusting your dress with the other. He sounds… uncertain. Completely unlike the Mingyu who cockily asked you if Seokmin was your boyfriend, or who joked around with Jihyo like it was second nature to him.

You bite your lip. “Yes?”

“Do you… do you want anything? Water?” 

You melt a little at his words like an ice cream left out for too long. Kim Mingyu, always so kind, always so caring—you know that better than anyone. 

He can be cruel too, in the way he chips away at your already broken heart. He doesn’t know it but he does—lift your hopes only to let it all crumble down. Like how he broke the promises you made to each other, and how you broke the words you’d sworn to say to him alone.

It hits you again, how you and Mingyu were meant to be, and how lonely it was when he left. You wonder if he feels the same way—did he spend sleepless nights in bed, thinking of you? Did he ever think that if he could travel back in time, he’d do it all over again?

You shake your head no at him. He doesn’t say anything after that, but his lips part slightly. He watches you as you walk over to grab your purse and head inside your room.

That night, you don’t sleep at all—despite wrapping yourself up in your Looney Tunes comforter and the comforting weight of your pillow beneath your head that usually puts you to sleep instantly. 

Instead, it feels like the very first night you and Mingyu broke up all over again.

SIXTEEN

You don’t tell anyone about what transpired between you and Mingyu. It remains hidden between you both, a secret neither of you are willing to bring up.

Jihyo is back to work at her new city, now completely devoid of boy problems of any sort, since Jeong Jaehyun has shifted his affections to another co-worker. (“It’s better this way,” she tells you, “he didn’t want a committed relationship, anyway.” You can tell she’s truly not bothered by it, so you grin and agree.)

Seokmin doesn’t come around to your cubicle the way he used to earlier, either. Your days at the office are dreary and boring, now that your co-worker’s sunshine smile isn’t there to keep you company. In fact, the only person who still talks to you voluntarily at work is your boss, Seunghcheol, but even then it’s mostly just a sympathetic smile he offers you followed by a new deadline or a project.

You and Mingyu are back to whatever it was you had when you first moved in, before the lasagne fiasco. Not talking to each other, but not not talking to each other either. You swerve around each other in tandem, finding more and more excuses to avoid whatever happened in between you both. He lied when he said he would talk to you about it the next day, after he ate you out on the couch.

You can’t blame him completely; you’ve made no effort to reach out to him, either.

Weariness seeps into your skin with every passing second. You rub at your already half-closed eyes and hide a yawn behind a closed fist. The letters on your laptop screen swim in front of you. The stack of folders next to it drags a tired sigh out of your lips.

You’re so tired. Not just physically, but emotionally you’re drained out, all the liveliness sucked out of you like someone vacuumed up the inside of your heart. The lack of sleep is getting to you; the lack of someone to brighten up your days is getting to you more.

If you and Seokmin were still on a talking basis, he would have sauntered over to your desk by now, hands in his pockets and the same question on his lips: “Coffee break?”

He’s not here now, probably tucked into his corner of the floor. Maybe his smile is directed at someone else. Maybe he’s taking someone else on the daily ritual that you used to consider yours. Maybe it’s time you get out of your fucking swivel chair and get some coffee.

You’re not doing it alone, of course. No, coffee at the office—no matter how shitty the machine is and how long the line for the coveted caffeine is—is yours and Seokmin’s thing. Besides, he said you’re still friends; it’s time for you to step up.

Stifling another yawn, you blink slowly before pushing yourself off your chair. It occurs to you that you don’t know exactly where Seokmin’s cubicle is—he’d mentioned it was by Seungcheol’s room once. You decide to start there.

It doesn’t take you long to find Seokmin. You walk into him—literally walk into him. A startled gasp leaves your lips when you collide into someone’s chest, an apology already on the tip of your tongue.

“Are you okay?”

You blink once. The voice is familiar. You direct your gaze at the person you bumped into. 

“Seokmin,” you breathe out weakly.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “The one and only.”

“I-I’m sorry I bumped into you,” you quickly apologise. “I was on my—”

“It’s okay, don’t apologise,” he interrupts. “I should’ve looked at where I was going too.”

“How… have you been?” The question spills out before you notice, and you realise that you’re genuinely concerned about his wellbeing. You’ve missed him, missed his companionship. 

Seokmin looks briefly surprised that you’ve asked him. He clears his throat, once. “Oh, um. I’ve been fine—y’know, the usual. Work, home, sleep and then repeat. How—how about you?”

“I’ve been better,” you admit. “You look tired, though.”

He lifts his hand and rubs his cheek with an accompanying embarrassed chuckle. “You could tell?”

He has bags underneath his eyes. His shoulders sag ever-so slightly. His usually perfectly styled hair isn’t as neat as it used to be. You nod. “You look exhausted.”

“Ah.” Another embarrassed chuckle; you can tell he doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“Coffee break?” you offer, a small, lopsided smile gracing your lips.

This time, the smile Lee Seokmin gives you lights up his eyes.

SEVENTEEN

“This is ridiculous!” you call out for the nth time, glaring at the door with as much intensity as you can muster.

“Jihyo’s orders!” Seokmin calls back, from outside the room. “I have proof that she asked me to lock you two up in order for you to talk it out.”

Mingyu huffs out a breathless laugh from behind you. He’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, sheets crumpled and pillow on his lap. You turn around to level your glare at him.

“Give it up,” he advises.

“Don’t even.” You pinch the bride of your nose, closing your eyes in exasperation. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault? No one told you to tell Seokmin everything!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know he would go and tell Jihyo?” you splutter out, opening your eyes and bringing your hand down. “I didn’t even know they’d exchanged numbers!”

“Might as well get it over with,” Seokmin’s voice travels through the barricade once more. “The sooner the better.”

“I didn’t ask you, Seokmin,” you mutter.

“He’s right, you know.” Mingyu pats the space next to him, inviting you to sit down. “If Jihyo hadn’t forced him to do it, I would have found some way to do it myself.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” you retort. “You’ve been avoiding me since the day we—since the day we kissed.”

“I would have tried,” he reasons. “But since you’re here now, can you at least please listen to what I have to say?”

“Oh, so now you have things you want to say,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. Regardless, you sit down next to him. You’re curious, you will admit. This conversation could potentially break your heart, or it could also change the trajectory of your relationship with Mingyu.

Your ex-boyfriend takes a deep breath before beginning.

“The other day, when I said I wanted to kiss you—I wasn’t lying, Y/N. I truly meant it. I’ve wanted to kiss you the minute I laid eyes on you again. I wanted to hold your hand, to take you places around the neighbourhood, to come back home to you.

“I thought we were making progress. I thought we were friends again, and I could somehow win your heart back.” A wry smile crosses his lips. “But then Seokmin came by, and you both just seemed so close. He—he brought back this life in you; your eyes sparkled whenever he was around, and you were always smiling when you were with him. I never saw that after we… after you moved in. You were always so jittery with me—understandably so—and I… I let my jealousy of seeing you with Seokmin get the better of me.

“That day, when I—” he pauses, glancing at you; his eyes are imploring, and you sense that he’s laying himself bare for you— “when you saw me kissing that girl, I did it on purpose. To make you jealous. And then I saw the look on your face, and even when I was drunk, I knew I’d fucked up. So I left her, and I followed you back inside—you closed the door just as I caught up with you. I called up Minghao, spent the night at his place. I think that’s when I realised completely that I—that I still love you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. Your heart is hammering inside your chest. You can’t believe you’re actually hearing these words.

Mingyu swallows. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. Even after we broke up, even after all the things we said to each other—some part of me knew that I shouldn’t give up on you. I have loved you throughout. I will continue to love you throughout.”

He looks down, staring at his hands. In that instant, he looks so small. Vulnerable. As if giving his entire heart to you on a silver platter isn’t enough. As if he’s giving all of himself to you, mind, body and soul.

You need to tell him that your mind, body and soul have always been his.

“Mingyu,” you begin, watching as his eyes travel over to yours uncertainly, “you absolute fucking idiot.”

His lips twitch up briefly. “Wha—”

“I love you, too, idiot.” The words rush out breathlessly. “I never stopped.”

Mingyu’s eyes widen and his mouth opens imperceptibly. You continue, “I knew this would happen. The minute I stepped foot into your house, I knew I would fall for you all over again.”

You reach out and grip his hand, needing something to tether you against him. “And I did.” A watery laugh escapes your mouth. “I fell in love with you all over again.”

A pause, and then Mingyu’s free hand cups your cheek, skin warm against yours. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Mingyu smiles at your confession—a full smile, with his eyes crinkling in the corners and his lips turning upwards. He leans forward. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

You beat him to it, covering the distance between you both with one swift swoop. You capture his lower lip in between yours, hands resting on his shoulders to steady yourself. He kisses you back with equal fervour, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you impossibly closer. You close your eyes and slide your tongue across the seam of his lips, smiling when he lets out a silent groan. 

He only pulls away once he needs air, but even then he doesn’t let you go. He pulls you forward, making you straddle his lap as he kisses your cheeks, your nose, the column of your throat. You relish in his touches, tangling your hands in his hair and tugging gently at the silky strands.

“We should probably stop,” you whisper, when a particularly sharp nip at your neck elicits a soft moan from you. “Seokmin’s standing outside.”

“Fuck him,” Mingyu says. He presses another kiss on your jaw, looking up at you like you’ve hung up all the stars in the universe.

You roll your eyes affectionately at him. “C’mon. I don’t want to scar him for life.”

“Who cares?”

“I care,” you say, slowly getting off his lap. Already you can feel the absence of his warmth. 

“Fine,” he agrees, once you stand up fully and brush yourself off. “I love you.”

Warmth shoots up your chest and onto your cheeks and neck. Your heart swells, and you find yourself grinning involuntarily. “I love you, too.”

“Good.” Mingyu stands up and pecks your cheek. “Now let’s go save Seokmin from his misery.”

(Later, if you find Seokmin with bright pink ears as he pointedly avoids yours and Mingyu’s gaze, that’s no one’s business but his.)

EIGHTEEN

Mingyu sucks on a sweet spot right underneath your ear and you can practically hear his smirk when you let out a whine. You fist your hand in the sheets, feeling the soft material crinkle underneath your fingertips. 

“Such a tease,” you whisper out.

He lowers his head, nips at your neck and then runs his tongue over the spot, soothing it. “So you’ve mentioned.”

Your retort dies on your lips when he moves lower and lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your collarbones and shoulders. You whine again when his fingers find your nipple, pinching the bud lightly in between his thumb and forefingers. He moves lower, breath ghosting over your abdomen and belly button, until he finally comes face to face with your clothed pussy.

He hooks his finger into the waistband of your panties, nails scraping against your skin. You squirm under his touch, lifting your hips to help him pull the flimsy garment down your legs and toss it to the side. Mingyu sucks in a breath sharply when he sees your exposed cunt—despite already having seen it before, and you feel a rush of pride at the fact that you still have this effect on him. “So pretty,” he murmurs, eyeing your folds hungrily. 

Mingyu works on your clit expertly, thumb rubbing against the nub, eliciting a loud moan from you. He licks a stripe up your folds, grinning when your hand automatically finds itself in his hair again. When he finds you’re wet enough, he slides a finger in. You inhale sharply, hole clenching around the digit. He circles his thumb around your clit once more, before sliding another finger in.

You gasp at that, tightening the hand in his hair. Mingyu leans forward, swiping at your clit with his tongue one more time and pulling both his fingers out at the same time. He relishes in the sounds coming out of your mouth, feeling proud that you’re not trying to hide anything from him. You’re completely under his mercy, as is he when it comes to you.

He slides both the fingers back in, hissing when your walls contract against them, pumping the digits in and out a few more times. The way you moan—because of him—makes him finger your hole faster, enjoying the way your moans increase in pitch. When he sees your eyes beginning to cloud over, Mingyu quickly withdraws his fingers. You whimper at the loss of his touch and he chuckles. “Patience, baby. Don’t want you to cum just yet.”

Your head falls back on the pillow and you mutter a string of incoherent words under your breath. “Look at me,” Mingyu tuts.

You lift up your neck curiously. Mingyu waits for your eyes to land on his lips before he slowly, deliberately puts his two fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digits and licking your juices off. He doesn’t fail to notice the way you bite your lip at the sight.

Once he pulls his fingers out, Mingyu bends down and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Are you even gonna fuck me, Gyu?” you grit out, and his eyes widen.

“Call me that again,” he orders. 

“Fuck me, Gyu.” Your voice is borderline a whimper, and, well—who is Mingyu to prevent you from getting what you desire? After all, he’s always been a little weak when it comes to you.

He gets on his knees, holding his throbbing cock in his hand. He pumps it a few times, groaning softly, before positioning himself at your entrance. “You’re on the pill?”

“Yes.” You nod almost desperately, waiting for him to slide it all the way in.

Mingyu enters you slowly—the pace is almost unbearable—but he shudders when he feels your walls against his dick. You grab onto his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh. A loud moan escapes your lips when he jerks his hips forward, his cock pressing into your cervix. Your eyes screw shut, and Mingyu grunts, pulling out and thrusting back inside with more force. Almost unconsciously, you wrap your legs around his hips, granting him more access to your hole and allowing him to push himself deeper inside you.

He leans down and captures a nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue around the pebbled bud. You gasp out moans wantonly, and it spurs him to thrust faster and faster inside you. He watches you fall apart on him, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips when your moans become interspersed with chants of his name. 

Your grip on his shoulders tighten and the muscles flex under your hold. Your cries reach a crescendo with one particularly sharp thrust; Mingyu can tell your climax is approaching.

He speeds up, pumping into you with as much strength as he can muster. Your nails leave white-hot trails along his back, his shoulders—you try to hold onto him as best as you can. You cry for more, beg him to keep going. A bit redundant, in his opinion—he has no plans of stopping until you’ve orgasmed. 

Mingyu thrusts into you one last time, throwing you over the edge. Your walls clench around his cock tightly, black stars floating in your vision as you cry out his name. He pumps into you weakly, letting you ride out your orgasm while chasing his own high. He buries his face in your neck, breathing heavily, and when your walls tighten around him, he comes inside you, his movements coming to a pause. 

You stroke his sweaty bangs away from his forehead, both of you catching your breaths. He remains sheathed in you, even as he pulls you onto your side so both your chests are touching. 

“Feel good?” he asks, one hand carding through your hair gently.

You let out a tired, but satisfied hum, smiling softly at Mingyu. 

You spend the night curled up in his arms. He sleeps soundly next to you, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks and hands wrapped protectively around your figure. The steady thrum of his heartbeat sounds against your ear, and you smile, even in your sleep.

NINETEEN

“You have your thinking face on.” Your boyfriend saunters into the kitchen, a knowing smile on his lips. You roll your eyes at him. 

“You can’t tell me you don’t see it too,” you say pointedly, waving your wooden spatula at him.

Mingyu chuckles, moving over and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He presses a sweet kiss to your shoulder. “What, that Seokmin and Jihyo are meant to be? That smells amazing, by the way, love.”

“Yes,” you huff out, stirring the soup inside the pot boiling on the stove. “And thank you.”

From the living room, you can hear your two friends laughing over something you couldn’t possibly begin to comprehend. Jihyo still lives in another city, but she comes over to visit whenever she can. You and Seokmin remain friends, and he often comes over whenever you, Mingyu and Jihyo decide to hang out—though, you suspect his enthusiasm to join you three has more to do with one particular person rather than the entire group.

“If you say so,” Mingyu agrees. “I think they’re just friends.”

“Friends don’t look at each other that way,” you say matter-of-factly.

“Really? I seem to recall him looking at you the exact same way not too long ago.”

“That’s different, Gyu. Here, can you taste some? I don’t want it to be too salty.” Grabbing a large spoon, you dip it in the pot and offer it to Mingyu.

He obliges, letting you shove the spoonful into his mouth—and yelps almost immediately. “Ouch! You didn’t tell me it was hot.”

You only raise an eyebrow at him, but a small hint of amusement dances in your eyes. “How does it taste?”

Mingyu rolls his eyes at you but rests his chin on your shoulder; his hair tickles your ear. “It tastes amazing as always, love.”

“You’re sure? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

“I’m offended you think I would lie to you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you deadpan, and it makes Mingyu giggle.

“I’m serious, it tastes good.” He smiles at you, peeling himself away from you. “Let’s go join the other two.”

“Coming.” You put the stove on simmer and grab Mingyu’s extended hand. His fingers slot in between yours easily. Your lips curl upwards on their own accord, and your heart feels so full, it’s close to bursting.

You’re there, in a room with all your favourite people, and it’s perfect.

The very first night you and Mingyu broke up is pushed to the back of your mind, never to slip out of the corner you’ve tucked it into. The nights after made up for it, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. You rebuild the promises you made and make new ones along the way.

You’d write it in the sky if you could, but you and Mingyu don’t need that. 

[night-raven-miscellany]

"AIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. DOWN. BAD KITTY. STOP THAT!!!! YOURE GONNA TEAR UP MY CURTAINS TRYING TO GET UP HERE!!!!"

Comically, James has somehow clambered up to the top of his bedframe, clinging to it like a terrified squirrel. On the floor, Lucretia sits, swatting angrily at the curtains draped over the bed, trying to climb them and yowling in frustration.

"For the last time I'm NOT GOING TO LET YOU EAT ME!!! I AM YOUR FRIEND!!!! YOUR COMPANION! By the sevens, when I find who gave you that accursed herb I'm going to-" He froze, noticing that somehow, his door had opened. He blinked very slowly, before letting out a shriek and falling to the floor with a heavy "thump". Lucretia saw this as a moment to pounce and began swatting at James's tail, which was swaying angrily.

"Hey *snrk* Hey James... Ppftt.... BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA DUDE YOU'RE TOTALLY GETTING FUCKED OVER BY THIS WHOLE CATNIP THING, HUH?" Lewis fell over onto the floor, cackling like a madman.

Yuna herself was stifling a laugh as she watched the cat meowing in frustration and leaping onto James's back in order to try and catch his tail.

"If you have the time to burst in here uninvited and make a mockery out of me, the LEAST you can do is HELP ME-" James attempted to sit up, smacking his head on his bedside desk. "Ow...."

“Yo, Yuna! You wouldn’t happen to have noticed our classmates acting more uh…sleepy? Chill? I don’t know the word…”

“ Someone has been going around putting catnip in people’s food and drinks. ”

-Shiyuu and Claire, @nrcsfavoriteshrimps

"Cat...nip??? Huh??? Why on earth would someone be doing that??? I mean I guess I noticed one of my classmates who is a cat beastman seemed a little more relaxed today but nothing too out of the ordinary. Especially since I don't have too many points of reference as to who this could affect. You want help looking into this, though?"

[killbaned]

i genuinely think i'm about to start being a raging cunt when people are more interested than interrupting me than listening to me speak because i don't know why this happens every time i open my mouth but like. i'm genuinely getting beyond sick of it.

me: hi i was told to schedule [testing] and i've been playing phone tag with [doctor's] nurse so i thought instead of wasting more of y'alls time with calls i'd just pop in to schedule it

woman at desk: oh. well you can't do that, you need an office visit first.

me: i was-

woman: like, you have to be seen first.

me, resisting the urge to start being mean: i've already had two office visits and was told to schedule the testing. i have been unable to do so on the phone. hence why i am here.

[beaft]

i love queen puddles but she is very slightly driving me out of my mind today. she's like the world's most demanding toddler, except more mobile and more cunning and with knives for feet