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pedroscurls · 10 days ago

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love at last (one-shot)

summary: harry’s never been in love before… until he meets you, which awakens a part of him that he never thought he was capable of.

pairing: harry castillo x fem!reader content warning(s): minor spoilers so please beware!, love at first sight trope, harry is charming and completely smitten, mainly harry POV, harry + reader go on dates!, no use of y/n. word count: 4.6k a/n: i just finished watching materialists and i'm OBSESSED with harry so obviously the next best thing is to write for him. please heed the warnings, there will be a few spoilers mentioned in this story!!! hope you enjoy nonetheless bc i'm gonna be dreaming about harry for a long time (look at those CURLS in that second pic tho jfc 🥵)

Harry had given up on the idea of love. He hadn’t felt it before and he felt like life was just passing him by. Was something wrong with him? Was he just not capable of falling in love—being in love?

Lucy was a good match for him, but it felt forced. There was a mutual attraction, but something had been missing and he wasn’t sure what it was.

Not until she said that she didn’t love him. Harry realized at that moment that he didn’t love her either. Lucy said it was supposed to be easy, but he wasn’t sure anymore. He tried Adore’s services, but the matches didn’t feel real, didn’t feel authentic. These women just wanted him for his money, his height, his job. He checked a lot of the women’s boxes—he was a unicorn, which Lucy liked to put it.

But it never felt easy. He looked at each woman from a business standpoint, something transactional, but Harry yearned for something more.

Something deep.

Something real.

So, he canceled his membership and decided that maybe love was just never going to be in the cards for him.

And maybe that he didn’t need it anyway.

The dating scene in New York was horrific. To you, it felt like every nice man in the world didn’t exist. All the dates you had been on ended terribly—with some even ending early.

The men were either too judgmental or too self-centered, or worse—just wanted one thing and one thing only. Was it this hard to find someone nice? You thought maybe you had been too picky, so you lessened your expectations—that didn’t work either.

So, you decided to stop dating altogether and instead put your focus into work. If the universe wanted you to be in love, then maybe you should just be patient and let life do its own work.

Harry had felt instant attraction before, but the first time he laid eyes on you it felt like time stood still. You were laughing at something someone said and he felt a flutter at the pit of his stomach. He’s never seen you at any of his family’s parties before, he would have remembered you.

He ordered a drink at the bar as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. Your smile was so warm, so kind, so genuine. He normally has this natural confidence in him, but when he saw you walking towards the bar, he straightened up and felt his heart race faster.

Maybe you were a friend of his sister-in-law, he wasn’t sure. His family’s parties were usually so big that he doesn’t remember who’s who. But he knew that he was definitely going to remember you.

The party was for his brother and his wife—a baby shower and gender reveal. A year after their wedding and they’re already expecting.

He felt you stand next to him and then he heard your voice, which only made him even more nervous because you sounded so sweet, so nice. Harry had taken a deep breath and then finally turned his body to face yours, but when your eyes met his own, he felt his stomach do flips.

“Hi,” you said with a small smile.

“Hi,” he replied with one of his own.

“Friend of the family?” you asked.

Harry shook his head. “Older brother.”

You widened your eyes and reached out to rest a hand over his forearm—a natural reaction from you. “Oh my god, you’re Harry.”

Harry looked down at your hand briefly and smiled, nodding in your direction. “That’d be me. Are you friends with my brother or…”

“I’m friends with Charlotte,” you answered, dropping your hand from his forearm. “I was teaching English abroad so I couldn’t make it to her wedding. I’m just glad I could make it for this event.”

“Where did you teach?” Harry asked.

“Philippines,” you smiled brightly. “It was amazing. I loved it there.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile too. You made him feel comfortable, despite the nerves he was feeling before you walked over. “And now? Are you going back there to teach?”

You shook your head. “It was only a two year contract. I have my certification now to teach English to non-native English speakers here in the States, so New York is home for now.”

Harry could hear the passion for your work in your voice and the way your entire face lit up. It was refreshing—talking to someone who actually enjoyed what they did for a living. “So you’re teaching at a school? Elementary?”

You let out a quiet laugh and shook your head again. “As much as I loved teaching younger kids when I was in the Philippines, my focus now is teaching adult learners. I work at a local community college.”

Harry smiled to himself. He heard the bartender set your glass of wine next to you and you turned away from him to thank the other man from behind the counter. The same genuine and kind smile lining your lips.

“You sound like you love your job,” he said.

“Oh, I do. It’s a lot of work, but it’s so rewarding. I try to tell my students that learning English shouldn’t ever replace their native tongue,” you continued. “That their native language is something to be proud of and that just because they’re learning English doesn’t mean it replaces the language they know and grew up with.”

“You must be an amazing teacher,” he grinned.

“I try to be,” you laughed quietly. You could feel your cheeks heating up as you took note of just how handsome he is. You had heard about Harry from your dinners with Charlotte, but she didn’t say how extremely handsome he was or how deep his brown eyes were.

“And I’m just in private equity,” he sighed teasingly.

“Well, at least you’re rich,” you laughed quietly. “I bet that’s nice.”

Harry shrugged. He wondered if this is where the conversation will shift, if the genuine authenticity he felt from you will disappear. “It’s a family business.”

“Oh, so it’s not what you would have wanted to do?” You asked, taking a sip from your glass. You lean against the counter of the bar and stare up at him. “If it isn’t, what would you have wanted to pursue?”

Harry tilted his head as he brought his own glass to his lips. He stared at you from the rim of his glass and then dropped his eyes momentarily to look down at his feet. “Not sure. I haven’t really had the chance to even think of what I would want to do if I wasn’t in the family business.”

“Hm,” you said, eyes looking up at him from top to bottom. “Maybe a model?”

He grinned. “Are you hitting on me?”

“And if I am?” you smiled, eyes staring deeply into his own.

Harry’s brows slightly raised at your forwardness and he glanced off to the side when he heard his name being called. Then, he looked at you and shot you an apologetic look. “Could I get your name?”

You smiled and shrugged. “Find me later if you really want to find out, Harry.” You turned on your heel and left him at the counter of the bar when the other guests approached Harry. You glanced over your shoulder to see his eyes staring directly at you as he nodded at whatever the other person is saying.

You and Harry kept stealing glances at each other from across the room. You could see the way his eyes lingered along your frame and you’re already three drinks in and feeling very brave.

When Charlotte and Peter found out they’re having a boy, the music only became louder and everyone began dancing. Harry’s eyes stayed focused on you as he walked through the crowd straight to you. He sat next to you and smiled to himself, tilting his head in your direction.

“Will you tell me your name now?” Harry asked.

You smiled and nodded, telling him your name as you turned your body to face his. You drape one of your legs over the other as you set aside your finished glass of wine.

Harry smiled. “It’s nice to officially meet you,” he nodded. “Now, would you like to dance?”

“Oh, I don’t—”

Harry interrupted you by standing up. He extended a hand out for you and maintained that charming smile. “If I say please, will you reconsider?”

You bit your lower lip and shook your head, slipping your hand into his own. He helped you to your feet and then led you onto the dance floor. One of his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he kept a tight hold on your hand. You bit your lower lip and moved your free hand to rest on his shoulder.

Being this close to him was intoxicating—feeling his broad chest remain flush against your own, his deep brown eyes staring directly at you as if you were the only person in the room, and god he smelled so good. You inhaled quietly and let your eyes fall shut, allowing him to lead you through the slow dance.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” he whispered into your ear.

You pulled back and opened your eyes to look at him. He’s still fucking smiling.

“Are you asking me out, Harry?”

“Would that be a bad thing?”

You stared into his eyes as you both sway side to side to the song. You had sworn off dating after so many failed dates, but Harry… Well, there was something about him that piqued your interest from the moment you laid eyes on him today.

“Well, no, but—”

His smile dropped and his eyes softened. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask if you were seeing anyone.”

You could feel his hold around you loosen, but you tightened your grip around his hand and pulled him back flush against you. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Oh,” he nodded slowly. “Okay, great. That’s—That’s great for me,” he chuckles quietly.

“But I kind of sworn off dating… at least for a while,” you admitted. “Lots of bad dates and I just—”

Harry spun you around and pulled you back into his chest, holding you tighter now. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” he whispered. “Do whatever you want to do… and if after that date you decide you want to officially swear off dating, then I’ll go my own way and you’ll go yours.”

“You’re charming, you know that?” You smiled, biting the inside of your cheek.

Harry shrugged, though a large grin lined his lips. “So, is that a yes?”

“Okay, one date.”

“One date is all I need,” he smiled, kissing your cheek and holding you firmly against him as he continued to dance with you.

On your first date with Harry, he had taken you to one the finest restaurants in New York. It had taken you by surprise and you felt very out of your element. You weren’t used to dates like this. He was very chivalrous—he showed up with flowers, opened doors for you, pulled out your seat, and even offered his coat when he noticed you were getting cold.

And the conversation came easy. He made you laugh and you made him blush. How could someone like him be single? When he reached for your hand during the walk around the park, you looked up at him and found him smiling in your direction.

He didn’t kiss you on the lips when he brought you back home. Harry had just cupped your cheek, whispered that he had a great time, and kissed your forehead. It was the simplest gesture, nothing too grand or over the top, but you felt your stomach flutter with butterflies.

Then, you asked him out for a second date. He was grinning—dimples deep in his cheek as his hand dropped from your cheek to wrap around your waist. His strong embrace filled you with so much warmth, so much anticipation because for some strange reason, it felt like you belonged there. In his arms.

He insisted that he take you out to one of his favorite restaurants and you agreed with a smile. Harry kissed your cheek that same night before walking back to his car. He waited until you were inside before driving away.

On the second date, Harry wanted to surprise you. He took you to a sushi restaurant—something more casual, but still romantic nonetheless. He rented out the entire small restaurant just for the both of you. The look of surprise on his face made him feel proud, more confident that maybe you wanted to date him more exclusively.

Harry enjoyed spending time with you and how you had always given him your sole attention and focus. It even brought a smile to his face at just how kind you were to everyone you encountered. During the date, you were intrigued and interested in how the head sushi chefs were making the food.

It was such an intimate setting and it felt easy. Harry had to wonder if this was what Lucy said a year ago—love should be easy. With the right person, love can be the easiest thing in the world.

Throughout the date, you were becoming more touchy. A hand on his forearm or leaning against him as you let out a laugh that wracked your entire body. Even after the date when you both were walking around the same park again, he had taken your hand and you laced your fingers with his. Then, he felt your head rest against his shoulder and it made the flutter in his stomach more noticeable.

When he dropped you off at your front door, you had stared up at him with your big eyes and he wanted nothing more than to pull you into him and press his lips against yours.

But Harry didn’t. He wanted to respect you and your boundaries. You were playing with the lapel of his jacket before gripping it and pulling him against you. Harry’s hands had darted out to rest on your hips—to steady you, to ground himself.

“Are you gonna ask to kiss me, Harry?” you had whispered.

Harry’s lips parted as he stared into your eyes. The grip on the hips tightened and he gave you a single nod. He had taken a step forward, eyes completely dark and filled with desire. “Just wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”

You smiled and moved your hands to play with the hair at his nape, the curls at the back of his head. You leaned in—just enough for the tip of your nose to brush against his. Harry inhaled sharply.

“If you don’t kiss me now, Harry, I’m gonna think you don’t like me.”

Harry tilted his head and leaned forward, nudging your nose with his own. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” He moved one of his hands to your cheek and leaned in to press his lips firmly against your own. He remembered how soft and warm your lips were, the sound of a quiet whimper escaping you, and the way his heart was racing. Harry hadn’t felt like this before—how even when he wasn’t around you, all he could do was think about you, or how the butterflies in the pit of his stomach fluttered whenever he saw your name flash across his phone.

It also made him feel special whenever you were together. You were kind and generous to strangers, but he always felt like the luckiest person whenever your attention was shifted to him. This was only the second date and Harry found himself wanting this to be more exclusive as the date continued.

The kiss lasted only a few more seconds—the both of you getting carried away before you pulled away from him. Harry remembered the look on your face. The small smile that lined your lips, the way your arms had loosely wrapped around his shoulders, your eyes gazing repeatedly down to his lips like you wanted more. Needed more.

“Where do you want to go for our third date?” he asked, whispering quietly as he brushed his lips with yours.

“How about I plan it?” you replied, pursing your lips to capture his own in a gentle kiss.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, dropping his hand from your cheek to join his other at your lower back. He laced his fingers and pulled you flush against him, the feeling of your body heat radiating against his own awakening something deep inside of him. Yearning. Desire. Need.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Let me take you out this time.”

Harry smiled. He had always been the one to plan the dates, to cater to the other person that he was slightly taken aback at your offer. It made him feel giddy, excited at the possibility of what you would plan. “Okay,” he answered. “I’ll let you take me out this time.”

“Good,” you smiled and pecked his lips. “I’ll see you then?”

Harry nodded, but pulled you back into a deep kiss. This time—it was intense, more intimate, urgent. His lips moved with your own and his hands drifted lower until the tips of his fingers rested just above your ass. He wanted to reach down and squeeze, but he didn’t. Not yet, he told himself. Not yet.

“I’ll see you then, baby.”

On the third date, you had told him to dress casually. He called you just before he was about to pick you up, asking just how casual he was supposed to dress. You had smiled to yourself and told him casual enough to the point where he wouldn’t care if his clothes would get wrinkled.

So, when he picked you up—dressed in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with sneakers, you practically wanted to pull him back into your apartment. The date could wait a little longer. You loved seeing him in a suit—had gotten used to seeing him dressed so formally—but seeing him like this, so relaxed and casual just made him sexier.

“This casual enough?” he asked, presenting you with another bouquet of flowers.

“You look hot,” you complimented and leaned in to peck his lips. He smiled when you pulled away and then took your hand to lead you outside of your apartment.

“So…” you told him. “We’re having a picnic.”

Harry grinned and pulled you close to him. You hadn’t yet closed the door to your apartment, but he leaned in and pressed his lips eagerly against your own. Without hesitation, he had moved his lips with yours, hand moving to rest on your hip. “A picnic sounds nice.”

He didn’t know what to expect, but he certainly didn’t expect to be lying on a large blanket with you next to him. You both were looking up at the clear, blue sky talking about something so random. He felt his heart skip a beat when he heard you laugh—it filled his senses until all he could hear was you and how happy you looked. He wondered if this was what other couples felt like, if this is what they would normally do—have a picnic in the park, eat some food, then lie down in each other’s arms just embracing each other’s company.

When your laughter died down, Harry had moved to rest his hand on your cheek. You stared up at him, the smile still remaining on your lips. He felt like he could sense what you were thinking about, communicating with you through his eyes.

His thumb had brushed against your lower lip and he leans in, pecking your lips lightly.

“Can I ask you something?” Harry whispered. He felt the nerves begin to build and looked away from you for a moment. It wasn’t until you replied with a soft and quiet yes that he looked back at you.

“Would you want to date more exclusively? More seriously?” he asked in a rush. Harry’s eyes softened and the smile on your lips never faltered.

“I’d like that,” you answered instantly. “I’d like that a lot actually.”

“Really?”

“Really,” you repeated.

Harry let out a sigh of relief and leaned in to press his lips against yours again. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you lay on your back with him propping himself on his side to kiss you. He felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders—he couldn’t help but feel extremely overjoyed and happy that the feeling was mutual.

Almost six months later and now in a fully committed relationship with you, Harry finally understands what Lucy meant—love was supposed to be easy… and loving you felt like second nature to him.

You had been spending most days at his penthouse. There’s already a space in his closet for you and extra counter space in the bathroom. You manage to make this place a home—he’d come home and you’d be there in the kitchen, making dinner. Or on some nights, he’d catch you grading some papers. This felt easy. Being with you was easy.

Harry knew that he loved you the moment he laid eyes on you. It’s cliche—he knows—but every time he’s around you, his heart races. When he sees you smile or hears you laugh, it makes his stomach do flips. And when he’s holding you in his arms, his life feels complete—like the one thing that had been missing in his life is now here with him.

He hadn’t yet said he loved you because he wanted to do it right. He wanted it to be perfect. Harry had an entire date planned—he was going to take you out to the same restaurant from your first date. Take you for a walk around the park afterwards and then, he’d tell you how much he loves you. It was going to be romantic—something to remember for the rest of his days, but that morning… His entire plan was thrown out the window.

You were in his kitchen, dressed in one of his shirts, making breakfast. Harry had gotten used to this, but for some reason, that morning, he felt his breath catch in his throat. The sun shone through his large windows, illuminating you in a warm glow. He was dressed in a pair of sleep pants and a worn t-shirt as he stared at you, a smile slowly lining his lips.

He walked over to you and watched as your eyes moved from the pan and over to him. Harry bit his lower lip at the sight of your broad smile. You dropped the spatula and walked over to him, wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders as you pecked his lips lightly.

“I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed,” you said. “Since you always like to surprise me, I figured I could return the favor this time.”

Harry chuckled and allowed his arms to wrap loosely around your waist. He held your body firmly against his own as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours. “Why are you so good to me?” he asked quietly, hand coming up to rest on your cheek.

“Hmm,” you answered. “Maybe because I really like you.”

Harry grinned and pulled back to look into your eyes. His thumb brushed against your cheek as he tilted his head. “Yeah?”

You nodded, leaning against his touch. “Yeah,” you answered. “Consider yourself lucky, Mr. Castillo.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed as he reached behind you to turn off the stove. He lifted you off your feet to set you on top of the kitchen counter, moving his hands to rest at either side of you. He moved to stand between your legs as he felt your hands move to card through his hair.

“I am,” he whispered quietly. “Very lucky.” His eyes stared deeply into your own. His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest—the nerves slowly beginning to build as those three words settled on the tip of his tongue. There was a tense silence that filled the air and it was almost like you could anticipate what Harry was about to say next.

Your hands moved to his cheeks, feeling the bristles of hair underneath your fingertips. You leaned down to kiss the tip of his nose as his hands moved from the edges of the counter to his rest on your hips.

“Baby,” he said softly.

“Harry,” you replied.

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted out as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “I thought I’d never be capable of love. It just always seemed so difficult for me, but you—loving you is easy.” Harry couldn’t help the tears that build in his deep brown eyes. The way you were looking at him now eased so much of the nerves and worry that he felt. “You make me feel—baby,” he sighed—his breath catching in his throat as he brought a hand up to wipe the fallen tear that trickled down his cheek once he blinked.

“Hey…” you whispered, kissing his cheek lightly. “I’m in love with you too, Harry.”

He pulled back. Eyes wide, features etched with shock. “You make me feel good,” Harry continued. “Valuable. Seen. Heard. Special. Every moment spent with you is always better than the last, and when I’m apart from you, I’m always counting the minutes until I can see you again.” He let out a shaky breath as he leaned in to rest his forehead against yours. His nose brushed against yours as he whispered, “I love you. I think I loved you the first time I saw you.”

“God, I forgot how charming you are,” you teased, hands moving to his shoulders as you slowly wrapped your arms around him. “You made me believe in love again, Harry. I’m so glad I said yes when you asked me out… and to think, I could have missed out on this, on you.” Leaning in, you pecked his lips lightly. “And loving you is easy too. You make me feel safe and I’ve never felt that before… with anyone.”

Harry smiled and gently pulled you off the counter, your legs easily sliding around his waist as he walked you both to the large couch. He sat down with you on his lap as he brought a hand up to your cheek. “Move in with me?”

“Didn’t you know?” You smiled, leaning in to brush your lips with his. “I was slowly beginning to move my things in anyway,” you grinned.

Harry chuckled, firmly pressing his lips against your own. “I love you, baby,” he mumbled. “So much.”

“Mmm,” you smiled, pulling away briefly. “Gonna show me how much?”

His eyes darkened instantly and he wrapped his arms around your waist to swiftly lie you on your back against the couch. Harry settled himself between your legs as he leaned back in—eagerly pressing his lips along your jawline down to the side of your neck.

“Oh, baby, you know I will,” he grinned against you, peppering light kisses against your neck.

The feeling of his stubble tickled your skin, causing a fit of giggles to escape your lips. He smiled to himself and pulled away from you briefly to look into eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered, a content smile lining his lips.

“I love you too, Harry. Now get back here and kiss me,” you giggled, linking your hands together at the nape of his neck and pulling him back down to press your lips with his.

Harry smiled against your lips—contentment, relief, and happiness filling his entire soul.

Lucy forgot to mention that loving was only easy if it was with the right person.

And you—you were the right person for him.

#pedro pascal #ppcu fandom #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu fanfic #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters #harry castillo #materialists #harry castillo x female reader #harry castillo x fem!reader #harry castillo x f!reader #harry castillo x reader #materialists fanfiction #materialists fanfic #materialists spoilers #story: love at last

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enhaflixer · 3 months ago

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jungwon x f!reader - truth or dare

cw: smut backshots, truth or dare a party some alcohol overstim fucking in a hallway playing hard to get reader

wc: 4K

The air inside Sunghoon’s apartment was thick with warmth, laughter, and the low thrum of bass-heavy music bleeding from the speaker in the corner. The living room, dimly lit by cheap string lights and the occasional glow of someone’s phone screen, was comfortably chaotic—half-empty beer bottles on the coffee table, abandoned playing cards scattered across the floor, and the faint smell of smoke drifting in from the open balcony door.

It was a typical night, the kind that started with everyone pretending to be responsible and ended with terrible decisions made over drinks that tasted like battery acid. At least, that’s how it always went with this group. Someone would drink too much. Someone would say something they shouldn’t. Someone would push a boundary just to see how far they could take it before it snapped.

Tonight, that someone was Jungwon.

His eyes had been on you all night. Watching. Waiting. Calculating. It wasn’t the kind of attention you could ignore, not when it felt like a slow, deliberate pull against your skin, a weight settling in the space between your shoulders. He was leaning back in the chair across from you, his posture lazy, one arm draped over the backrest like he had all the time in the world. The amber liquid in his glass swirled idly under his fingers, but his gaze—dark, unreadable, patient—never left you.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back. At least, not yet.

Jungwon had always played this game too well. He never pushed outright, never gave too much away. Instead, he let his presence sink into the background, subtle but undeniable, like a whisper against the nape of your neck that you couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried. He was a walking contradiction—soft-spoken but sharp, polite but dangerous, calm but never still. Always watching, always waiting, like he was just biding his time until you let your guard slip.

And you hated it.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

If anyone else in this room looked at you the way he did, if anyone else had the audacity to sit back with that quiet little smirk and wait for you to break first, you would’ve shut it down in an instant. You would have rolled your eyes, called them a creep, and gone right back to pretending they didn’t exist.

But this was Jungwon.

Jungwon, who had spent the past few months testing you. Jungwon, who had a habit of getting under your skin in ways that felt almost calculated, like he was learning you. Figuring out what made you tick, what made you squirm, what made you second-guess yourself even when you swore you wouldn’t.

Jungwon, who knew you liked it.

The worst part was that he never actually called you out on it. Never forced the subject, never acknowledged the weight of his own attention, never once said anything that could be used as proof that any of this—whatever this was—was real. He didn’t have to. He just looked at you like he already knew the answer.

And the problem was, he wasn’t wrong.

The sound of Jake’s voice cut through the air, sharp and mischievous as always. “Alright, everyone shut up. We need a game.”

There was a collective groan from the group, though no one actually made an effort to leave. If anything, some of them perked up, already sensing that whatever Jake had in mind was going to be just chaotic enough to be entertaining.

“Please don’t say beer pong,” Sunghoon muttered, taking a slow sip from his drink. “I don’t have the patience to watch you throw a tantrum when you lose again.”

Jake scoffed, offended. “First of all, I have never thrown a tantrum in my life. Second of all, that was one time, and I should have won because—”

“No one cares,” Heeseung deadpanned, tipping his bottle in Jake’s direction. “Get to the point.”

Jake, unbothered as always, simply grinned. “Truth or Dare.”

This time, the reaction was immediate. Sunghoon groaned again, louder this time. Jay muttered something under his breath about how he should’ve left an hour ago. Someone else laughed, already grabbing another drink like they were preparing for whatever was about to happen.

You, however, felt something shift.

The second those words left Jake’s mouth, you felt it—a quiet but distinct shift in the air, an almost imperceptible pull that dragged your focus back to Jungwon.

Because when you finally did look at him, when your gaze flickered up and met his across the dimly lit room, you realized something that sent a slow, creeping heat curling through your stomach.

He was already looking at you.

He was smirking.

It was subtle, barely there, just the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, but you saw it. You felt it. That silent confirmation that he knew. That he had been waiting for this exact moment. That he had already won.

Jungwon’s voice was smooth when he finally spoke, quiet enough that you almost had to strain to hear him.

“I’m in.”

He said it like it was nothing. Like he wasn’t expecting anything from it, like he wasn’t sitting across from you with all the patience in the world as he waited to see what you would do.

It wasn’t fair.

The worst part was that no one else seemed to notice. No one noticed the way Jungwon was watching you like he was waiting for something, like he had already decided exactly how this was going to play out and was just waiting for you to realize it too.

You weren’t about to back down.

Lifting your drink to your lips, you took a slow sip, ignoring the way your stomach tightened under the weight of his attention. When you set your glass down again, you leaned back into the couch, tilting your head slightly, and let your lips curl into something just shy of a smirk.

“Fine,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “Let’s play.”

Jungwon didn’t react right away. He let the words hang between you for a second, stretching the tension just long enough to feel intentional, before the smirk on his lips deepened just slightly.

The game had started off simple enough. Truth or Dare. A childhood staple turned into an excuse to push limits under the guise of drunken amusement. Someone had already been dared to take three consecutive shots of the worst vodka in the apartment, another had been forced to send an embarrassingly explicit text to their ex, and at some point, Sunghoon had been dared to kiss Jay, which had resulted in an explosion of laughter and a very flustered Jay swearing he would get revenge.

But none of that mattered. Not to you. Not when Jungwon was sitting across from you, watching, waiting, looking as though he already knew exactly how this was going to end. He was relaxed, too relaxed, one arm slung casually over the back of the chair, fingers tapping an idle rhythm against his thigh, his glass cradled in the other hand as he took slow, measured sips. But his eyes—dark, unreadable, knowing—were fixed on you, making the space between you feel smaller than it actually was.

He had been watching you all night.

It was subtle, the way his gaze never strayed for long, the way he seemed unaffected by the noise and movement around him. He was patient, unnervingly so, biding his time, waiting for the inevitable. There was something about him that always felt like a challenge, something that made it impossible to ignore him, even when you tried. And God, had you tried.

The worst part was that he knew.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

And when Jake spun the bottle and it landed directly on you, you knew it too.

The chatter in the room shifted slightly, just enough to signal that people were paying attention. Anticipation crackled in the air, feeding into the slight tension already woven between your shoulders. Jake grinned, the kind of grin that meant nothing good, and leaned forward.

“Alright, princess. Truth or dare?”

Your breath was steady, controlled. You could feel Jungwon’s eyes on you, heavy, expectant. If you picked truth, Jake would find a way to expose you. If you picked dare, you would be putting yourself at his mercy, at whatever fucked-up, boundary-pushing challenge he had been waiting to throw at you.

And yet, you still found yourself saying, “Dare.”

Jake’s grin widened, slow and satisfied, his gaze flickering between you and Jungwon.

“I dare you to sit on Jungwon’s lap.”

The shift in the room was immediate.

The laughter dulled, the conversations thinned out, and suddenly, it felt like every single person in the apartment was waiting for you to react. Even the music seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the sound of your own breathing, too sharp, too aware. You weren’t looking at Jungwon, but you didn’t have to. You could feel him, could practically sense the amusement rolling off him in waves, the anticipation humming beneath his carefully crafted exterior.

There was no way out of this.

Not without losing.

And you refused to lose.

With a slow inhale, you pushed yourself up, moving toward him with measured steps, refusing to let the moment feel as monumental as it did. The second you reached him, he tilted his chin, his smirk deepening, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He just spread his legs a fraction wider, resting one arm lazily over the back of the chair, waiting.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was low, smooth, amused. “Scared you’ll like it?”

Your stomach twisted, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you rolled your eyes, acting unaffected, and sank down into his lap, gripping his shoulders for balance. It was meant to be simple. A dare. A game.

But the second you settled against him, you realized your mistake.

Because he was hard. Already.

A slow pulse of heat spread through your stomach, coiling tight, thickening your breath. You tried to shift, tried to find a neutral position, but the movement only made it worse, the friction sending an electric shock through your core. And Jungwon? He felt it. You knew he did. His fingers flexed against your waist, his grip firmer now, securing you in place before you could pull away.

His breath was warm when he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to something just above a whisper.

“…You’re wet.”

Your stomach plummeted.

Heat flooded your entire body, rushing up your neck, into your face, between your thighs. Every inch of you locked up, your hands tightening against his shoulders, your breath catching before you could stop it. And he felt that too.

The worst part was that he sounded satisfied.

He shifted beneath you, slow and deliberate, just enough to let you feel him, to feel everything. You sucked in a sharp breath, body going rigid, but his grip didn’t waver. If anything, he only held you tighter, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, barely grazing bare skin.

“Guess that answers my question.”

Your thighs clenched involuntarily, the pressure between your legs unbearable. Jungwon hummed, his grip tightening just enough to remind you who was in control.

“Careful,” he murmured, his fingers dragging over your skin. “Unless you want everyone to see how bad you want it.”

A shudder worked its way through you, a slow, involuntary reaction that only made him chuckle. His breath was steady, controlled, unaffected, while yours was dangerously close to ruined.

And then, before you could stop yourself—before you could think better of it—you moved.

Pressed down harder.

Jungwon inhaled sharply through his teeth, his fingers digging in. His jaw clenched, and for the first time, he slipped.

“You’re fucking with me.”

A slow, satisfied smirk curled at your lips, your nails dragging down his arms.

“Is it working?”

His hands snapped back to your waist, grip firm, unrelenting. His voice was lower now, wrecked.

“You better hope these people leave soon,” he muttered, his breath heavy, hot. “Because the second I get you alone?” His fingers slid lower.

“You’re done.”

The party was still going, but you weren’t there anymore. Not really. The room was a blur of half-drunk conversations and muffled music, voices blending into a meaningless hum as Jungwon’s words sank deep beneath your skin, spreading like wildfire. You’re done.

That should have been a warning. A threat. But all it did was send a pulse of heat straight to your core, an ache that made your thighs clench involuntarily. You shouldn’t have pressed down on him like that. You shouldn’t have let him feel how wet you were, how much you wanted this.

But it was too late. He knew. And now, he was going to make you pay for it.

Jungwon’s grip on your waist was still firm, fingertips pressing possessively into your sides as he leaned back slightly, his mouth brushing against your ear. His voice was low, calm, controlled—but beneath it was something darker. Something lethal.

“Get up.”

Your breath caught. He didn’t say it loudly, didn’t need to. The authority in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, made your stomach tighten with anticipation. You hesitated for only a second before obeying, pushing yourself off his lap, legs unsteady beneath you. He followed immediately, his movements smooth, purposeful, like he already knew exactly where this was going.

You barely had time to process what was happening before his fingers wrapped around your wrist, his grip deceptively light as he led you through the crowd, weaving through the bodies without so much as a second glance. No one even noticed. No one saw the way his other hand lingered against the small of your back, or the way your pulse was hammering so hard you could hear it in your ears.

He didn’t stop until you were in the hallway.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, you barely had time to take a breath before he was on you.

Your back hit the wall with a soft thud, his body pressing flush against yours, heat radiating through the thin fabric separating you. His hands found your hips instantly, his grip strong, unrelenting, possessive. His eyes were darker now, heavy-lidded, filled with something filthy.

“You think you can fuck with me like that?” His voice was different now, rougher, his breath warm as it ghosted over your jaw. “Grinding on my lap in front of everyone, acting like you don’t want me to ruin you?”

Your breath stuttered. Fuck.

He didn’t wait for an answer. His hands were already moving, sliding lower, gripping your ass hard before yanking you against him, forcing you to feel how hard he was. The friction sent a shockwave through you, made your fingers clench at his shoulders as a quiet whimper slipped past your lips.

Jungwon chuckled.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

His lips found your neck, hot, open-mouthed kisses, his teeth grazing along the sensitive skin as his fingers worked their way under the hem of your shorts. His touch was teasing, barely-there, cruel in the way he traced the outline of where you needed him most but never quite touched.

“You’re soaked, sweetheart,” he murmured, nipping at your jaw as his hand finally dipped lower, sliding between your thighs. “Did grinding on my cock do this to you? Or have you been dripping for me all night?”

Your head fell back against the wall, breathless, desperate, but he wasn’t satisfied yet.

His fingers barely brushed against you before he withdrew, bringing them up between you, glossed in your arousal. His eyes locked onto yours, a slow smirk curling at the corner of his lips. And then—he pressed them against your mouth.

“Open.”

A quiet, strangled noise slipped past your lips. His voice was a command, sharp and absolute, and your body responded before your mind could catch up. Your lips parted, your tongue flicking out instinctively as he pushed his fingers inside, letting you taste yourself.

“Fuck,” he muttered, watching the way your mouth wrapped around his fingers, the way your tongue licked over them, cleaning up every drop. “You really are a filthy little thing, aren’t you?”

You shouldn’t have moaned at that. But you did.

His eyes darkened even more, his breath coming heavier now. His free hand slipped behind your head, tangling into your hair before he pulled you into a kiss so filthy it left you dizzy. His tongue shoved past your lips, licking into your mouth like he wanted to consume you, tasting the wetness he had just fed you, owning it.

His hips rolled forward, grinding against you just right, and suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not the party still happening down the hall, not the fact that you should be ashamed of how easily you were coming undone for him. All that mattered was the way he was fucking devouring you.

His hand slid back down, slipping inside your shorts this time, pushing past your underwear until he was touching you properly. You choked out a gasp against his lips, your nails digging into his arms as he dragged his fingers through your wetness, slow and deliberate.

“Goddamn,” he groaned, his voice wrecked. “You’re dripping all over my hand.”

You whimpered, grinding down against his fingers, shameless. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more. Needed him.

He must have sensed it, because his fingers curled suddenly, sliding inside with no resistance. Your body arched, your head tipping back against the wall, and he fucking grinned.

“That’s it,” he murmured, thrusting deeper, watching your face with pure hunger. “Take it. Let me hear you.”

The heat between you was unbearable. You weren’t sure when you had lost control, when pride had melted into something desperate, something raw, something so shamelessly filthy that you didn’t even care anymore. Maybe it was when his fingers first pushed inside you, stretching you open, fucking you slow like he had all the time in the world. Maybe it was when he licked his own fingers clean, tasting you, groaning about how sweet you were like he was going to fucking devour you.

Or maybe it was right now, when your head tipped back against the wall, legs spread wide, his fingers thrusting so deep into you that you couldn’t hold back the sounds spilling from your lips.

And fuck—the sounds.

Lewd, wrecked, absolutely obscene. Squelching, wet noises filled the empty hallway, a disgusting testament to how completely ruined you already were for him. And you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop. You wanted more. You needed more.

Your thighs trembled around his wrist, your fingers digging into his shoulders, but he wasn’t satisfied yet. Not when you were this close to breaking. Not when your breath was coming out in shaky, broken whimpers, your body begging him without words.

But words were what he wanted. He wanted to hear you say it.

Jungwon slowed his fingers, barely moving inside you, just enough to keep the pressure, just enough to tease. His smirk was deadly, dark eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched you fall apart.

“You gonna beg for it?” His voice was smooth, dripping with arrogance. “Or are you still trying to pretend you don’t want me to fuck you senseless?”

A sharp whine ripped through your throat. Your head lolled forward, forehead resting against his shoulder, every ounce of shame burned away by the throbbing ache between your thighs. His fingers curled inside you, pressing against the spot that made your whole body jolt, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please,” you gasped, nails clawing into his arms. “Fuck me, Jungwon. Please. I need it. I need you.”

The words left your lips before you could stop them.

And Jungwon stilled.

For a moment, it was silent. His breath hitched, his fingers pausing inside you like he hadn’t expected that, like he had assumed he’d have to drag the desperation out of you. But here you were, falling apart in his hands, pleading for him without hesitation.

His lips parted slightly, his gaze dropping down to where his fingers were buried inside you, then back up to your face, taking in your flushed skin, your half-lidded eyes, your slick dripping down his wrist.

“Fuck,” he muttered, almost in awe. “You’re really begging me, huh?”

His cock twitched against your thigh, hard as fucking steel, straining against his pants. His control was slipping. He was slipping.

And you wanted to break him completely.

You moaned, shifting against his fingers, your breath coming out in a messy, broken plea.

“Yes—please, please, please, I need you to fill me up—I need your cock inside me, I need you to ruin me, Jungwon, please, I’ll do anything.”

A low groan tore from his throat, deep and wrecked, his head tipping back for half a second before he lost it.

His fingers yanked out of you only to grip the waistband of your shorts, dragging them down your thighs in one swift motion. You barely had time to process before he spun you around, pressing your chest against the wall, his palm splayed across your lower back as he forced you into a deep arch. Your fingers curled against the wall, your whole body trembling in anticipation.

“You want it that bad?” His voice was deeper now, breathless, wrecked.

You whimpered, nodding frantically. “Yes—yes, please—”

He clicked his tongue, his hand smacking against your ass hard enough to make you cry out.

“Say it properly.” His cock pressed against your bare skin now, hot and leaking through his boxers, teasing where you needed him most. “Tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you.”

Your breath shuddered. Your brain was gone. Completely useless.

“I—I want you to fuck me until I can’t stand, until I can’t even think—I want you to fill me up, make me your fucking mess, make me scream—”

Jungwon swore under his breath. And then—

He shoved his cock inside you in one brutal thrust.

A ragged, filthy moan punched out of your chest, your body stretching around him, the delicious burn of it sending a shockwave through your spine. Your fingers scrambled for purchase against the wall as he bottomed out, stuffing you so deep you could feel it in your stomach.

Jungwon groaned, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, his breath ragged.

“Holy fuck,” he gritted out. “You’re so fucking tight—”

Your walls clenched around him, making his hips jerk involuntarily, dragging another obscene squelch from between your legs. The sound alone had him groaning, biting down on your shoulder.

And then? He snapped.

He pulled back only to slam back in, setting a brutal, relentless rhythm, fucking you into the wall so hard that the framed picture beside your head shook. Your moans turned into screams, high-pitched and desperate, bouncing off the empty hallway walls, but you didn’t care. You wanted everyone to hear.

Jungwon was panting now, wrecked, completely fucking gone.

“Listen to yourself,” he growled, gripping your hips tighter, dragging you back onto his cock as he slammed forward again. “Fucking screaming for me. You really wanted this, huh? Wanted me to fuck you stupid?”

Your answer was nothing but a broken sob.

His hand reached around, slipping between your legs, rubbing tight, filthy circles on your clit. The pleasure was unbearable, your whole body shaking, throbbing, and you could feel it—

The inevitable. The uncontrollable.

“Come for me, baby,” he groaned against your ear. “Come all over my cock—let me feel you fucking fall apart.”

And then—

You shattered. Completely.

A loud, broken wail tore from your throat, your body locking up, spasming around him as your climax ripped through you. Your walls clamped down so tight that Jungwon lost it immediately after, his rhythm faltering as he buried himself to the hilt, spilling inside you with a deep, wrecked groan.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

The only sound was your ragged breathing, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his arms wrapped tight around your waist. He stayed buried inside you, filling you up completely, as if he wasn’t ready to let you go yet.

The world outside the hallway didn’t exist anymore. Time had blurred into nothing but the aftershocks of pleasure, the slow hum of satisfaction thrumming through your veins as Jungwon’s body stayed pressed against yours, still buried deep inside you. The both of you were wrecked, breathing hard, coated in sweat and sin, the scent of sex thick in the air, clinging to your skin, to his.

You should have moved. You should have pulled away, found your clothes, pretended this never happened. But you didn’t.

Neither did he.

Instead, he tightened his arms around your waist, keeping you in place, his cock twitching slightly inside you, still hard, still refusing to let you go. A low hum rumbled against your shoulder, his lips brushing against your damp skin, slow, lazy, like he had all the time in the world.

“You’re not going anywhere.” His voice was raspy, sleep-heavy already, like he had decided that the night was far from over.

Your heart slammed against your ribs, your body still overstimulated, burning. You tried to shift, but the movement only made him groan, his cock pressing deeper, making you whimper.

“Jungwon—”

“Shh.” His fingers slid up your stomach, dragging against your overheated skin before slipping beneath your jaw, tilting your face back to him. His lips ghosted over yours, not quite kissing, just tasting. “You can take it, baby. Just stay like this for me. Let me feel you.”

A sharp exhale left your lips, your pulse throbbing at the thought. The idea of staying like this all night, full of him, stretched around him, completely owned by him. You swallowed hard, your nails digging into his arm, your whole body fighting between exhaustion and the craving for more.

But the heat in his eyes told you exactly what he wanted.

And you wanted it too.

You nodded, barely breathing, and his smirk deepened. His fingers slipped lower, brushing against your still-sensitive clit, making you jolt.

“Good girl.”

He adjusted his grip, guiding you both towards the bedroom, his cock still buried inside you, refusing to slip out,refusing to give you even a second to feel empty. The sensation was overwhelming, filthy, unbearably intimate.

By the time he reached the bed, he pulled you down with him, settling you into his lap, his back against the headboard, his arms locking you in place. His hands traced slow, lazy circles over your bare thighs, completely unbothered by the way your body trembled from exhaustion.

You wanted to speak. Wanted to ask him why he was doing this. Why he wasn’t letting go.

But you already knew the answer.

Because this wasn’t the last time.

This wasn’t going to be a one-night thing, a mistake you could brush off in the morning.

Jungwon wasn’t going to let you forget this.

He shifted slightly, his cock twitching inside you, making a filthy, wet sound escape from between your legs, making your head tip back, your breath catching. His grip tightened.

“Tomorrow,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not letting you leave until I’ve fucked you in every way I want.”

A sharp whimper escaped your lips, your fingers digging into his chest as he tilted his head, studying you like he was memorizing the way you were already breaking for him.

“You know that, right?”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. Your entire body was buzzing, aching, ruined.

Jungwon smiled, smug, knowing, victorious.

His hand slid up your back, gripping the nape of your neck as he pulled you forward, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss. The kind that sealed the truth neither of you had spoken out loud yet.

This wasn’t the last time.

Not even close.

Because you were his now. And he had no intention of ever letting you go. Not until you knew exactly what it meant to belong to him.

TL: @ziiao @seonhoon @beariegyu @somuchdard @ddolleri @zzhengyu @annybah @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4ss @starniras @wonuziex @sol3chu @simj4k3 @jakewonist @azzy02 @addictedtohobi @cherrybeomm @urmomdotcom5678 @jaeyunsbimbo @yongbokified @changbinniescurlyhair @en-whims @prettygurlnikittie

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10yrsyart · 4 months ago

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a long tf sketchdump i started after watching Transformers One last year, which was great btw! (also Soundwave is one of my faves but he somehow didn't make it into this, RIP my guy 🥺 to be fair, most of these are the beginnings of ideas that don't reach conclusion so -shrug-)

also also, i watched TFA for the first time, and i CANNOT believe they really just squished my boy Blurr into a cube while still alive and left him like that 😤 i know the show got cancelled and they had plans to bring him back, but like, hotdang! SO of course i decided to slap some claustrophobia on that sucker. y'know, as a treat ✨

transcript:

(Chitty Chitty Bang Bang design) -Neutral non-combatant

-Came to Earth early, joined the races

-Lost most of her memories after the Crash

-Forgot to act non-sentient around the family who adopted her

(Wander Over Yonder designs)

Hatertron: UgggHH! That STUPID, orange Autobug, GAH, I could just wring his ne-

Peeperscream: SIR!! FOCUS!

-Wander is a Neutral Autobot sympathizer

-Sylvia is an Autobot, but protective of Wander

-Hater messes up so many plans, Peepers is the only reason Megatron hasn't figured it out

-Peepers admires Starscream's intellect, but avoids him at all costs

(TFA comic)

Rodimus Prime: Uhm, Agent Blurr? ..You good?

Agent Blurr: Rodimus-Prime-sir! There's-nothing-wrong, why-would-anything-be-wrong? This-is-a-party; a-celebration-for-the-Autobots'-GRAND-victory-over-Megatron, which-we're-all-overjoyed-about-so-there's-really-no-reason-to-be-worried-about-the-amount-of-mechs-and-femmes-in-this-room-of-which-there-is-a-perfectly-normal-number-for-a-celebration, and-it's-not-as-if-we've-reached-max-capacity-so-I'm-SURE-the-space-is-NOT-too-small-even-if-the-walls-are-getting-closer-and-closer-and-no-one-seems-to-care-that-it's-too-small-in-here-and-can't-vent-I-can't-I-I-c-I-ca-

Rodimus: Whoa, hey! Ok, ok, let's go outside for a bit, yeah? I'm tired of people asking it I'm “still infected” anyway... Like, obviously. It's Cosmic Rust.

Blurr: ...This-is-humiliating, completely-pathetic-behavior. I-am-a-professionally-trained-intelligence-agent-of-the-Elite-Guard, THEREfore-I-should-not-be-losing-my-composure-whenever-I-enter-a-room. But-I-begin-to-feel-trapped-and-I-I-I-I-can't-...

Rodimus: ..Yeah. Sometimes, I just- freeze. It feels like ice is crawling up my arms and legs and chasiss.. it hurts. I mean, I know it's not happening, but that's how I feel. It sucks. But we made it, we survived. It's still hard, but there's gotta be something to that, right? The effort and struggle is worth it, or whatever.

Blurr: With-all-due-respect, I'm-quite-sure-you-are-terrible-at-this-sir.

Rodimus: Dang. Alright, fine, that's fair. But do you feel better?

Blurr: Marginally, thank-you-Rodimus-Prime.

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jaysbaefie · 4 months ago

Text

simone says | sjy

synopsis: in which your highschool rival agrees to tutor you, on one condition.

genre: high-school rivals to lovers ?

pairing: high-school rival!jake x afab reader

warnings: dubcon (ish), dom!jake, bratty!reader, reader calls jake a 'twink' on multiple occasions, jake reads hentai, mentions of blackmail? restraining with a belt, light degrading, spanking, grinding, reader grinds on jake's shoe, lowkey manhandling, oral sex (m. and f. receiving), public sex, praising, hair pulling, p in v, orgasm denial - i think that's it..

wc: 9.6k+

a/n: this is my first fic on tumbler, so if something seems wonky i apologize i’m not familiar with posting on this platform. feel free to leave tips on how to post on this site because i struggled heavy…

──── ୨୧ ────

the look of disappointment plastered on your professors face made you wince.

"i'm sorry __ , but if you don't boost your grades then i have no choice but to demote you from debate team captain and take you out of your advance learning classes," he said apologetically.

you wanted to do nothing but to scream in his old, wrinkly and saggy face, this was so embarrassing.

you internally scold yourself for thinking this way of your professor, the man was nothing but kind to you these past few months given your terrible attendance and poor marks.

you had never come home with less than a 95% in your classes. nowadays, your happy with a shitty 60%.

you don't know what's wrong with you, your unable to focus on your studies and instead spend time ditching classes and attending parties. you had promised yourself that no matter where your friends had dragged you. you would make your education a priority, but as expected, that wasn't the case.

senior year of high school meant a lot of behavioural and social changes within both you and your friends, the shy and nerdy girls you once hung out with had done a complete 360 switch. the hangouts that once consisted of going to cute cafes and studying, ice skating, arcades and movie nights had quickly switched to getting drunk every other night and doing any possible substance that they could get their hands on.

you missed the days where the four of you wouldn't get black out drunk and fake sobriety to your knowing parents. you didn't particularly enjoy the party life that your friends were living, but you didn't hate it, and you surely wouldn't be missing out on it. yes, your studies should come first, but your a senior in high school only once in your life. which is what your friends repeated every time you rejected a party. so that's what you lived by, your only a senior in highschool once.

unfortunately, that same logic costed you your above average grades and perfect attendance record. you had to fix this, and you were willing to fix this mess in any way possible. even if it meant dropping to your knees for your professor.

you give the old man a once over, shivering and internally rejected that as a possibility.

"i'd rather fail and live at home for the rest of my life," you think to yourself, your body convulsing at the idea.

swallowing harshly you ask, "is there anything i could do to boost my grades?".

he looks at you with sympathy, leaning back in his chair as he thinks for a moment. "the only thing i could do to help you with your grades is to be present and help answer any questions you have. i could stay some time after class and help you with some homework but that's about it __, i'm sorry," he sighs.

asking questions with homework wasn't going to change your 57% into a 95 in 2 months. you needed to completely re-learn the material and start from the beginning. you didn't have notes and you didn't have a clue of what was going on in the class. none of your friends were in your classes, none of your friends were as smart as you.

unfortunately for you, you hadn't bothered to even make any friends in your advanced learning classes. you couldn't just go up to someone in your class and ask them for their notes, you were stumped.

"do you think you could set me up with a tutor? i know i'm asking for a lot right now but i want to switch this around," you beg softly, your hands clutched together. your professor knew how much potential you had, you had created a good reputation for yourself after all. you were the debate team captain, although you had been missing more and more meetings recently. you had one of the highest marks in your grade, often ranking first place in exams. you had never gotten into any altercations, a squeaky clean student record. lots of volunteer hours and good recommendations from professors that would guarantee you a spot in the most prestigious of universities.

your professor thinks for a moment, his bushy eyebrows furrowing as he debates internally. "i could set you up with one, but i'm not sure he'll agree to helping you this late in the semester," he replies wincing. "or at all..," he continues but your ears miss it.

a smile instantly makes its way onto your face, there's hope for you. you were sure that whoever this person was they would agree to helping you. you were nice to everyone, always respectful and helpful to your peers.

who would say no to you?

"he's one of my best students, following you of course," the professor continues, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he takes his thin glasses off his face. he gulps softly, knowing that suggesting this student to you and vice versa wasn't the best idea.

you on the other hand, begin to think of all the smart students you know of in your grade.

yang jungwon?

park sunghoon?

kim sunoo?

mentally trashing all of the candidates that you deemed dumb.

your professor interrupts your internal dialogue, "you're going to have to talk to him and come up with something that works for the both of you, that is if he agrees," he says.

"but i will send him an email, warning him that you'll be in touch with him soon," he adds on tensely.

you simply hum in response, happy with the outcome of the conversation even though it may not work out for you at the end. one thing about you was that you were confident, and you knew that a little persuading would get you far in life. you got along with all your peers, unfortunately not enough to ask for notes or help but enough to pass soft smiles in the hallways or a gentle nod of acknowledgment. you stayed in your circle of friends, rarely hanging out with other classmates unless a project or school assignment was involved.

with no questions asked you thank your professor profusely, your smile reaching your eyes.

your professor on the other hand looked at you nervously, letting out a tense laugh as he tells you to head to your next class. you hadn't asked who would be your tutor, and your professor was grateful. he didn't want to deal with your reaction and preferred to stay out of it but he knew he would hear from you soon and he'd rather deal with it later than now.

"now, head to class the bell will be ringing soon," he ushers. you smile and thank him once again before practically skipping out of your classroom.

your professor watches you leave, a soft sigh escaping his parted lips before he opens his computer. his mouse clicking on the schools mailing app, before punching in the letters of the students email.

he wrote a simple message informing him, no— warning, that's the word, warning him that you'd be in touch with him soon.

he sends the email and immediately signs off, hoping for the best. his two star students couldn't be fighting anymore, and if he had to play cupid then he'd play cupid, even if it was extremely inappropriate and unprofessional.

he could only hope for the best.

──── ୨୧ ────

you walk alongside your friends, your shoulder casually brushing against yoora's as the four of you head to the lunch hall.

"so you're really taking this grade thing seriously, huh?" jiya asks, her brows arching as she looks at you with a soft smirk.

you roll your eyes, "someone has to," you reply.

"who else is going to make a lot of money so they could keep up with their friends luxurious life style," you playfully snide. the reason your grades meant so much to you was solely because you didn't come from a privileged and wealthy background. to you, good grades meant a good education which leads to a good job and a stable source of income for both you and your family. this wasn't a choice for you, yet you had been treating it as if it was one and now your dealing with the consequences.

your friends came from wealthy backgrounds, grades weren't that important to them because they knew that no matter what their gpa was they'd have something to lean back on. whether it be inheriting a business or their parents providing pocket money till their last breath.

jiya's expression softens slightly, her manicured fingers brushing against your arm, "we're sorry for distracting you, __."

"we didn't realize how much this was affecting your grades," she continues. the others nod in agreement as they mumble soft apologies.

you were greatful for their understanding, they were aware of your financial situation but often forgot. it wasn't something you liked to bring up often, the looks of pity on their faces making you want to shrivel up and die.

there would be times where they'd offer to pay for your meals, clothes and even tuition because they thought it would help lessen your financial burdens, but instead it made you feel embarrassed and angry. you didn't want the pity so you rarely brought it up. this was your motivation to make money and step out of the hole that finances had made for you.

"we won't pressure you into going to parties with us anymore," hana says before quickly continuing, "but that doesn't mean that you can say no every time. you still have to go out with us, but we understand that right now your education is your priority."

you smile in response.

"so, who's your little tutor?" hana asks, flipping her dyed blonde locks over her shoulder as she searches her purse for her wallet.

the four of you had entered the lunch hall, your eyes scanning for a table as you begin to walk to the lunch line.

you shrug at her question, "no clue, i forgot to ask. but probably some nerd."

yoora laughs, "fellow nerd," she corrects with a teasing smile, bumping shoulders with you as you stand in line.

you roll your eyes playfully, "bitch."

"i just hope it's not a creep, like min youngjae," you shiver at the thought. min youngjae was a perv, sure he was smart and often ranked high in exam scores like yourself, but he was a total creep. he had been caught peering into the girls change room last year and hasn't been able to live it down since.

your friends giggle, "carry pepper spray on you if it happens to be him, heard he had the hots for you too.." jiya snickers handing the lunch lady some cash before picking up her tray.

you shiver, "i'm carrying mace if i'm paired with him," you mutter as you follow jiya with a tray of your own.

spotting a table the four of you beeline for it, the lunch hall started to fill up and spots to sit had become scarce.

sitting down the four of you ease into small talk which then becomes gossip. giggling amongst yourselves you don't notice a certain pair of eyes on you, watching your every move.

if looks could kill, you'd be buried 6 feet under by now.

a soft nudge makes you stop laughing, yoora smirking as she raises her eyebrows. she motions to the side of you with her head, you furrow your eyebrows, confused to what was going on.

turning your head your eyes are instantly met with the one person who you had issues with in this entire school.

co-captain of the debate team, soccer team captain, and your worst enemy—sim jaeyun.

you almost gag when he smirks at you. his stupid plump lips curling into a grin when he's sees your expression before his beautiful—no hideous face morphs into one of mock concern. your surprised when he gets up from his spot and starts to make his way to your table.

his lean yet muscular legs flexing with each step he took, he was still wearing his soccer shorts that he had been wearing during practice with a thin white t-shirt that outlined the shape of his torso when the lunch halls light hit him in a specific way. his hair was slightly damp with sweat from practice, he runs his large hands through his dark locks before he reaches your table and his crotch is in level with your face. you make a face of displeasure before you shift away slightly, trying to avoid starring at his dick.

"fuck do you want sim?" you sneer, holding in the urge to punch him in the throat when his grin widens.

how you wanted to punch his shit-eating grin, his perfectly straight teeth would fall out of his big mouth.

"what do i want? hm, a lot of attitude for someone who needs my help," he mocks playfully as he bends down so he's eye level with you.

your face twists into one of confusion, help?

"what are you talking about dickwad? i don't need your help," you spit, your cheeks heating up when you catch a whiff of his cologne. you mentally beat yourself for letting someone like him fluster you.

"oh really? so mr.kim didn't send me an email asking me to tutor his 'star student' ?" he pouts mockingly.

your eyes widen and your mouth parts in shock.

mr.kim you are so fucking dead.

jake watches your face twist into one of shock, enjoying your attitude fizzle as you stumble for words.

your mouth opens and closes like a fish on land, racking your brain for a snarky comeback, but to your luck your mind was blank.

he stares at your expression, he could see a million thoughts behind your eyes and it only boosted his confidence. he was the reason your bratty mouth was unable to form words to shoot back at him. the same mouth that would spew insults at him whenever he dared to even speak in your presence was now shut because of him.

he was eager to shoot you down when he had originally walked to your table, ready to reject tutoring you and make fun of you for being so dumb and careless of your studies. he had noticed what you had become recently, the seemingly hardworking and shy girl you once were around others, not him of course, had become an avid partier who didn't care about her academics and future anymore. however, now he had different plans, he knew how much you needed him and he'd use it to his advantage. what's wrong with a little fun? right?

jake stands up straight, "meet me in classroom 103 tomorrow afternoon lunch, don't be late pretty," jake coos playfully with a chuckle escaping his pink lips.

your internal debate ends instantly at his words, your face dropping as you begin to process his words. he wants to tutor you? pretty? confused you look at him and begin to open your mouth only to see that he has turned away and began walking back to his table.

his friends looking at him and you both confused and amused at the interaction.

what the fuck just happened?

──── ୨୧ ────

sim jaeyun has always been that cockroach that just won't die. no matter how many times you hit it with your shoe, or the rounds of bug spray you spray on its disgusting body, it survives.

first day of 8th grade and you two were already fighting over the dumbest things. the two of you shared a mutual friend, kim sunoo, and you wanted to sit next to him for math. little did you know, jake had similar intentions which resulted in a full blown argument between the two of you on why either of you should sit next to sunoo.

at the end, neither of you got to sit next to him.

then came budging in line, to you the fight between who gets to sit next to sunoo was your last interaction with jake. however, jake had other plans.

he would purposely budge in front of you in line and when you made a move to confront him he'd act like you simply didn't exist.

you realized quickly that he thrived off of your reactions and stopped giving him the satisfaction of getting angry at him.

grade 8 science class is where the two of you had begun to get competitive for grades.

"hey, what'd you get on your quiz __?" your seat mate whispered to you while holding onto his own quiz, hiding the grade from your greedy eyes.

biting back a grin you show him your test results, "a 93%" you whisper back. you were so proud of yourself, you studied hard for that mark and you were going to tell anyone who asked what you got.

you heard a snicker come from the back and you immediately knew who it was. you whip your head around to shoot the boy a piercing glare.

"93? that's it? i got a 96," jake brags with a smirk.

you could feel your cheeks redden with rage as you flip him off and turn back in your desk.

fuck that twink and his 96%, i'll show him.

and you did show him, next quiz you got a 100% and you made sure jake saw it.

"awe, a 94. how cute jakey," you mocked with a pout. you had left your quiz on his desk while he was in the washroom, making sure he saw it when he returned.

jake's fists were clenched and he could feel himself bubble up with embarrassment when he saw your perfect score. he rolls his eyes and chooses to not respond, which only fed your ego.

the cycle continues for years, and with your luck you shared almost all of your classes with jake. the two of you were some of the smartest kids in your grade and shared the same advanced learning classes, with the exception of extracurriculars. the competition between you two never ended and neither did the unusual tension.

when you became debate team captain jake was furious, he worked equally as hard for that position but he was made co-captain for his efforts instead of the real deal. he never complained publicly though, instead he tried to outshine you during weekly meetings. being extra nice to the members and trying to come up with better ideas and solutions to make you look bad.

you're still captain, so clearly he's not doing a good enough job.

you tried to avoid jake when you could, you saw him as competition and an enemy, that's it. well, that's what you tried to convince yourself. there was an undeniable attraction that you felt towards jake, and it made you want to kill yourself. fortunately for you, you were able to look past it and come to terms that you found him attractive and justify that his personality made him ugly.

however, jake didn't try to avoid you back. instead he seemed to 'run into you' and random times and ruin your day. at one point you were convinced that he was following you because of how often he would be at the same place at the same time as you.

many of your friends and fellow classmates thought of you and jake as an elderly couple that bickered amongst each other. the thought of dating jake alone made you gag and you tried to shut down their theories of sexual tension between the two of you right away. that however, didn't work and the theories continue.

"i swear, you two just need to fuck," jiya sighed as she slumps against her pillows.

all four of you had decided to go to jiya's house after school, it had been so long since you all had hung out like a normal group of teens.

you choke on your drink, "fucks no," you look at her with wide eyes, shocked she would even say that.

jiya grins, she props herself up on her elbow to stare at you, "you know you feel the tension, because i sure as hell do. so do yoora and hana, hell, everyone at school does," she exclaims frustratedly, mad that her friend won't just take her advice.

you roll your eyes, "the only tension i feel that he's involved in is scoring higher than him academically, which i've been failing at recently," you respond with a groan.

finals were only 2 months away and if you wanted to pass with flying colours you needed to take up jake's offer.

"what if he's agreeing to tutor you because he wants to sabotage you," hana theorizes, gasping at her idea as she stares at you with her eyes wide and her eyebrows raised.

"i don't think he's the type to sabotage, he likes the competition and he likes to win fair and square from what i've seen," interjects yoora.

she had a point, jake had never played dirty. sure he was a dick, but he never tried to sabotage you. you were away for a week once due to a cold and jake had willingly given you his notes for that weeks lectures.

that only makes you wonder..

what is that twink up to?

you were confused by the entire interaction that took place in the lunch hall earlier, it wasn't odd for jake to be in your personal space, he did that a lot. however, the 'pretty' he added to the end of his sentence was what was throwing you off. jake had described you in a multitude of ways, ugly, witch, hag, dumbass, toad, and the list continues. but never has he called you something positive, let alone pretty.

"i don't know what his game plan is, but the only way i'm going to find out is by going to classroom 103 tomorrow."

──── ୨୧ ────

and that's how you find yourself outside classroom 103, your hands clutching the straps of your backpack as your nervously open the door.

you peer up making there wasn't a bucket full of liquid perched at the top that would fall onto you when you open the door fully. seeing that nothing was there you open the door and walk inside, seeing jake by the whiteboard at the front of the classroom.

his back facing you, you could see how well his clothes hugged his shape and you couldn't help but admire.

he was wearing his uniform this time, his white dress shirt was crisp and free of any wrinkles and tucked into the waistband of his pants. his sleeves were rolled up so his forearms were exposed, you felt your mouth water slightly as you saw the veins from his arms lead to his large hands.

"are you going to keep staring like a perv or sit down?" and the moments ruined.

you roll your eyes and walk up to him, slamming your backpack down onto the desk before folding your arms across your chest, "what's your game plan here, shitface?" you spit out.

jake chuckles, finding your attitude and actions cute. you thought you were intimidating but in reality jake allowed you to believe that you were in charge, it was the least he could do before he showed you who was really in control.

jake moves away from the whiteboard before leaning against the teachers desk that sat in front of the board with his arms in front of him, holding him up.

"game plan? what are you talking about __?" jake asks innocently, looking down at you with a pout.

you roll your eyes again, "listen, i'm not in the mood for this back and fourth thing you love doing okay? are you going to tutor me? yes or no?"

jake grins, moving away from the desk and walking up to you, similar to how a predator stalks up to his prey. you give him a dirty look when he stands in front of you, staring down at you.

"of course i'm going to tutor you __, it's the least i could do to help my fellow classmate," he coos mockingly.

"roll your eyes again and watch," he threatens, seeing your expression shift again. your heart stutters in your chest at his tone, a soft flush coating your cheeks.

he knew you to well.

you scoff, "cut the bullshit, i know you have an ulterior motive to this 'i'm a good person' persona you have playing right now. spit it out, what do you want in return?"

his grin widens, "if only you used your brain to pay attention and get good grades rather that theorizing about my 'ulterior motives'. maybe then you wouldn't be in this position," he snarks back, his face leaning closer to yours. you take a step back but he takes two closer to you.

if you hadn't known jake and were someone else you would've thought that he was going to lean in and kiss you right now with the way his breathe fanned against your cheek. he was to close, but this was just how jake was. always in your face and business.

"maybe if you weren't a little shit who didn't have dick up his ass every second of the day i wouldn't be aiming for your crotch right now with my knee," you spit back, your knee bent up and close to his crotch area.

jake rolls his eyes, taking a step back as a precaution in case you do decide to knee him where it matters.

"so? what do you want in return. don't say that fake shit you're scheming up in your head about how you're just a good person and care for all your peers," you mock in what you think is a good impression of his voice.

he smirks, "all i want from you is to play a little game with me __."

you quirk your eyebrows in suspicion, "what game...?"

"simone says."

you burst into fits of laughter, your eyes watering with amusement as you look at him incredulously, "what are you? 7? get a grip jake," you snicker, leaning against the deck for support as your body still shakes with silent fits of laughter.

"7 inches deep in your mom," he lamely mutters which only makes your body shake harder with amusement.

jake's expression remains the same, "suit yourself, you either agree to the game or you find someone else to tutor you. but you and i both know that no one is going to help re-teach you the way i can."

he wasn't wrong, you and jake regardless of your differences, learned the same way. his notes were thoroughly detailed and you had seen him help out peers before, he was patient and made sure that at the end of the lesson they grasped the concept well.

when you don't say anything he continues, "i miss the competition between us you know? seeing your grades plummet to shit wasn't as satisfying as i thought it would be," he admits as he inspects the classrooms surroundings, almost embarrassed at his own confession.

shocked at the sudden confession you look up at him with a teasing smirk, "how cute jakey."

he groans, "fuck this, i'm out," he makes a move for the door before you grab his wrist.

"okay, okay sorry. i'll play your dumb game, just tutor me shitface," you mumble looking anywhere but him.

jake smirks, the threatening to leave ploy always works.

you had not idea what you were in for.

jake was going to tutor you, there were no lies there. however, he deserved to get a little something out of it.. right?

the game was a mere excuse to him. years of back and fourth had gotten him no where and that had to change, and it had to change soon. who knows were the both of them would end up after graduation, he had to lock you in.

"we start after school today, meet me at the library right after the bell," he says before he quickly struts to the door, leaving you in the classroom by yourself before you even had a chance to protest.

then what was the purpose of this entire meeting? you could've just seen him after school to begin with.

dickhead.

──── ୨୧ ────

"no, no, no that's all wrong," jake sighs as he pulls the notebook from your hands and flips to a different page.

he was beginning to get on your nerves and you had to hold yourself back from slamming your fist into his face.

"well maybe if you teach me from the beginning instead of handing me questions to answer i'll do it correctly," you scoff.

"i need to know where you are in your comprehension to be able to teach you the proper material, you toad. that's why i'm giving you practice questions, which your eating shit at, so clearly i'm going to have to start from the beginning," he snaps back ,rubbing his eyebrows that had tensed up.

you could feel your mouth water slightly at the sight of his hands, long and veiny which looked sinfully good every time he held something. drooling over your academic rival and overall enemy wasn't something that you'd publicly admit, ever. not even to your friends who had their own suspicions of the two of you.

'sexual tension' they said.

"lets start from the beginning of the semester, unless you need i need to revise basic algebra for you too?" he mocked, his upper lip curling up in a sneer.

you give him a sickly sweet smile, you weren't that dumb you still remembered things you learned from previous years. new concepts were the issue for you, "hm, whatever you think is right mr.sim," you say in a mocking innocent tone, all while batting your eyes before turning your head so you're sure he's staring right at you.

jake swallows harshly at the honorific, his fists clenching before he sits up a bit straighter. clearing his throat he lets out a fake cough to distract you if you happened to notice his sudden mood change.

you hadn't noticed his change in behaviour, going back to staring at your textbook. you had forgotten about the situation as soon as your eyes landed on the question you were stuck on, ignoring the now tense boy that sat next to you.

to others you two seemed like a cute couple, studying together and occasionally bantering. the two of you sat closer together than you'd like, but you didn't bother moving away. your knees touching and occasionally rubbing against one another whenever jake decided to bounce his knee, which you had noticed over the last years was a habit of his when he was focused.

"i think you're smart enough to remember previous years of study, let's go over this again. this time from the beginning."

you had to admit, jake was a pretty good teacher. he made sure you understood every concept of the unit, asking you to re-explain them to him as proof. he was patient and kind with you, which you hadn't expected.

but now you were getting tired, peering up to see the time on a clock that was mounted neatly on the library walls it read 6:23. you had been studying for almost 3 hours.

"hey, maybe we should continue this tomorrow," you suggest before leaning back in your chair in an attempt to crack your back. your hands in the air lazily as you let out a soft yawn. wincing when you hear a crack, a soft moan leaving your parted lips.

jake's eyes widened at the sound momentarily, his tongue darting out of his mouth to wet his lips when he sees your position. your skirt rose up a fraction and your shirt shifted in a way that your stretching exposed a sliver of your pink bra strap and your collar bone.

jake scoffed in attempts of giving himself a reality check, looking up at the clock, "it's only been 3 hours, tired already?" he raises his eyebrow before cracking his knuckles, joining you by leaning back in the uncomfortable wooden library chairs. he could practically feel his butt bones hit the wood.

you look at him incredulously, choosing silence as a response before turning to grab your phone, checking your notifications.

this seemed to piss jake off, not only had you ignored him but now you had the audacity to go on your phone during his tutoring session that he so graciously offered you out of his free time.

"off your phone, __," he demands, now sitting up in his chair.

you ignore his warning tone, looking up from your phone lazily before scoffing, returning your eyes to your messages.

"__, i said something and i expect you to listen to me," he says again, this time his tone more annoyed than demanding.

"simone says, get off your phone," he tries.

you let out a giggle, looking up at him with amusement, there's no way he tried using that. "or what? huh? what happens if i don't listen to simone and what he says," you mock with a pout.

"i reconsider tutoring you, i'm making time out of my day to help you and you're being ungrateful and bratty. the least you could do is stay off your phone while we're studying and abide by my only condition, which was to play simone says," he spits passively.

jake wasn't an angry person, he was typically calm and collected and rarely ever raised his voice. but something about you irked him, every name you called him, every snarky response to his normal questions, every dirty look you gave him—all of it had him busting at his seems. his eyes would twitch with annoyance and his hands itched to take care of your bratty mouth, he of course, never acted on his thoughts.

but life seemed to work in strange ways, and unbeknownst to him he now had a chance to do what he's been itching to do.

"wow you must be so busy," you mock, your arms fake surrendering.

"i'm so sorry that i took precious time out of your day. time that you use to beat your dick to some sort of freak anime porn," you snicker, sure you kept your distance from him but you did some digging on the boy.

some say you're good with your hands, picking a lock with some pins was light work for you. you remember back in junior year jake had 'accidentally' taken your keys to the debate room, the keys that belonged to the debate team captain, you. you knew he was upset that you got captain instead of him and he had taken the keys out of jealousy.

at first you decided to let him keep them, out of pity, but what's the fun in that?

you did the most logical thing, you broke into his locker. while searching for the keys you came across a multitude of things, one of them being a small collection of interesting cartoons performing certain actions.

he was reading hentai. at school. no shame.

your hands shook with excitement when you saw the lewd comics, biting your lip to contain your giggles you flip the pages, quickly scanning the contents.

your eyes widened at the content, jake was into some kinky shit.

your mouth drops as you continue to snoop, giggling to yourself when you realize that you had hit the jackpot on blackmail.

pulling out your phone you took a few pictures of his locker and the porn books mr.goody two-shoes was hiding from the student body.

jake's eyes widen at your comment, how did you know?

seeing jake's reaction, your grin widens and you decide to test your luck, "didn't take you for a guy who liked bondage jakey," you giggle, biting your lip to hold back the booming laughter that threatened to leave your mouth.

"unless, it's you who's getting tied up.. i can see that," you tease before you begin to shake with laughter. you glance over in between fits of laughter to see jake's expression, which remained shocked, struggling to process the situation.

"but i'm not surprised, little bitch boys like you look like they enjoy being left helpless," you continue as you stare at his confused face.

you couldn't help but cross your legs to soothe the ache between your legs, the situation you were in and the power you held over jake's head had got you feeling some kind of way.

just when you thought you had control of the entire situation, perched on your little high horse and ready to prance around jake, his expression changed and he lets out a small laugh.

your grin drops, confused to why he found the situation amusing.

"you know __, i respect that you tried," he says, you could see his eyes water as he bit back a smile threatening to appear on his face.

"this, just made everything i'm going to do a lot easier," he continues before he finally lets the grin he's been holding back pop onto his oh-so perfect face.

you look at him confused, "are you into humiliation too, jakey? i never would've guessed."

his grin only widens, he suddenly stands up from his chair and slams his hands on the library desk.

luckily, the library had emptied out slowly in the last few hours and only a few students remained in the large spaced area.

"what are you do-" you began before the words were knocked out of you.

literally.

grabbing you by the back of your neck, jake pulls you up and pushes you face against the desk.

and suddenly you were regretting picking the most secluded section of the library.

"what the fuck are you doing?!" you try to say but the words come out as sloppy and squeaky due to one side of your face being glued to the desktop.

you hear his breathing get heavier but no reply comes from him.

suddenly, you hear rustling of his belt and a click, indicating that he was now taking it off.

instead of fear, excitement rushes through you and you squeeze your legs together in anticipation.

jake sees this and grins, "dirty bitch," he sneers before impatiently yanking his belt off, letting go of his grip on the back of your neck—quickly grabbing a hold of your arm.

you let out a small squeal when you feel him roughly tug your arms behind your back, securing your arms with his belt.

you let out a small hiss of complain when he tightens the belt a bit to tight to which he only chuckles in response.

his hands bury themselves in your hair, yanking it so your face is no longer against the table and instead the crown of your head was touching his chest.

you could feel him ground himself against your behind, your eyes widening when you feel him push against your ass.

"you see how you're bent over a desk with my belt tied around your wrists and left all helpless, not me?" he whispers harshly in your ear, his breath tickling your skin making a shiver run through your body.

you unconsciously push yourself further back into him, a low groan leaving his parted lips.

"beats me, your the one that got hard from me degrading you, bitchboy," you snicker, wiggling your hips against him, finding the whole situation slightly amusing. you were really pushing it and you'd soon realize it.

your laughter dies down when you feel one of jake's hand slither down to your legs, softly running his fingertips along the plush of your thighs and nearing your crotch.

you shut your eyes when you feel his fingers graze against your underwear clad heat. a soft moan escaping your parted lips when he presses firmly against your clit, moving his finger up and down.

"and what about you, __? you've already soaked through your panties. and i've barely even touched you," he teases with a coo. you could feel him smirk against your ear, his fingers still running up and down your slit making your legs shake at the pressure of his actions.

when you don't answer he grips your hair harder and makes the pressure between your legs firmer, "are you not embarrassed, __?" he asks, his grip on your hair disappears and you fall back onto the desk with a soft thud.

"you're allowing yourself to be bent over the counter by someone who you swear up and down you hate," he continues, now pulling his hand away from your cunt making you whimper at the loss of feeling.

he smirks, "but i have a feeling, that you don't really hate me."

you look back at him before pulling your face into a sneer, "fuck yo-" you began but before you could finish a loud smack silenced you.

your skirt was flipped up and jake had made his hand comfortable on one of your ass cheeks. "you wanna try that again?" he asks, his eyebrow raised as his tongue pokes his cheek.

you were no one to back away from a challenge, "i said fu-"

smack!

"say sorry," he commands before landing another hard smack. you shake your head, biting your lip so hard that you swore you could taste blood. seeing you shake your head, he only grins, "suit yourself."

he landed hit after hit, smack after smack until you were sobbing and babbling over your own words. as much as it hurt your pride to apologize, you would have to or you'd drown in your own tears.

"i-i'm sorry," you manage to push out, you laid your head on the desk waiting for jake to say something.

"that's my good girl," he coos softly, his hand now massaging your bruised cheeks. you let out a small whimper at the feeling, you were sure that you wouldn't be able to sit down properly for weeks.

a small choked sob escapes your mouth when he begins to kneed the sore spot a little to rough, "does that hurt angel?" he coos softly while places soft kisses down your clothed spine.

you nod shakily, "that's too bad, but i know a strong girl like you can take so much more."

and just like that you were pulled off of the desk and pushed down onto the floor, a hiss leaving your mouth when the rough carpet of the library scratches your knees.

"now, you're going to stay true to your part of the deal," he begins before stopping, admiring how helpless you looked as he stares down at your tear filled eyes and flushed pink cheeks. how he has imagined you in this exact position hundreds of thousands of times for so many years, and here you were in front of him just how he dreamed.

all those times he's fucked his fist to you when you made him angry, which was every single day. now, he was granted with the opportunity to fuck you and your mouth, and you best believe he was going to take full advantage of it.

his hands fumble with the zipper of his slacks, rushing to pull them down and allowing them to drop down to his knees.

you're eyes widen momentarily when you see his bulge straining against the fabric of his dark grey boxers. you look up at him only to be met with a look of need and urgency, you would say that he looked cute if his dick hadn't hit your cheek when he pulled down his boxers.

"simone says, suck my dick."

you gulp, moving your head back slightly to get a good look of what you were working with only for jake to thread his fingers into your hair and force his dick into your mouth.

you immediately gag, your eyes watering as you struggle to adjust to his length. you hear him groan when his tip touches the back of your throat, the sound only motivating you to swallow around him.

"fuck,__. you look so good with my cock stuffed in your bratty mouth," he moans out, his hips now slowly moving in and out of your mouth as a mixture of your spit and his cum leak out of the side of your mouth.

you only moan in response to his harsh and unforgiving thrusts, the sounds vibrating against him.

"look at you, angel. so good for me, taking me so well. if i had known this is the best way to shut you up, i would've done this a long time ago," he grunts out, his hips stuttering when he feels your jaw slacken to take more of him on easier.

"hauling your bratty ass into the nearest room and fucking your throat raw, making you beg for my cock to stretch you out."

you moan at his words, your thighs squeezing together to try relieve the pressure and ache that was building between your legs. jake notices this and smirks, his leg moving to slide between your thighs.

your eyes widen at the sudden intrusion but before you could think more about it jake begins to snap his hips faster. tears run down your cheeks, if your makeup wasn't smudged earlier, it was surely gone now.

suddenly, you felt pressure against your core, and you knew it was jake. he was able to get you to sit yourself onto his shoe, giving you a look that read 'you know what to do', and you did.

as shameful as it was, in the moment you didn't care. you allowed yourself to grind yourself down on his shoe to get some sort of relief, hips snapping to chase your high which was approaching embarrassingly quick.

"you're such a good girl, __. grinding yourself down on my shoe, getting yourself off while you gag around my cock. so fucking dirty," he moans, his head tilting back as he feels his high approach quickly.

you attempt to bob your head but jake doesn't let you, his grip on your hair tightening as he holds your head still. "m'gnna cum, f-fuck," he stutters, his thrusts now getting sloppy.

he then suddenly pulls out from your mouth, you whine from the loss of his cock, he smirks before he begins to ride out his high with his fist. "open your mouth, stick your tongue out," he demands, panting as he desperately fucks his hand.

you couldn't help but admire the view, jake's face was contorted into one of pure pleasure and bliss.

"you look so eager for my cum, yeah? is that right, pretty girl?"

you do as you were told, peering up at him as you continue to grind yourself down on his shoe. "f-fuck, you look so pretty. m'gnna nut all over that pretty face, angel," he pants and just like that thick ropes of his cum coat your face and tongue.

you flinch at the feeling before you swallow what was on your tongue—licking your lips at the warm and slightly salty flavour. a whimper leaving you when jake moves his foot away just when you were about to reach your own high.

he smirks in response, using two of his fingers to tilt your chin to admire the mess he has made on your face. "so pretty, my pretty girl. you were so good for me, and you know what happens to good girls? good girls get rewarded." fortunately for jake, you were too cock drunk to properly comprehend what he was saying.

jake pulls you up, you struggle to stand as you wobble slightly but he grabs your arms as support. he admires you quickly before pulling you into a searing kiss, his hands resting on your waist before moving them up to cup your face.

"so beautiful," he says in between kisses, the words making you feel lightheaded. you didn't know if he meant those words or if he was saying them in the heat of the moment, regardless you basked in the praise.

his hands move to your back, fumbling with the belt that was wrapped around your wrists. you almost moan in relief when he removes his belt from your hands, letting them rest by your sides. however, jake doesn't let you relish in that feeling of relief for long before his hands find their way to the back of your thighs, hoisting you up into his arms and then onto the table.

you let out a small gasp when jake drops to his knees, spreading apart your thighs roughly before moving between them. he's face to face with your panty clad heat, your hands immediately move to try and cover yourself but jake was not having it. he pushes away your hands and instead grabs your thighs to pull you closer but you try to shut your legs before he could slot his face between them.

"simone says, spread your legs."

even if you didn't obey, he'd still make you. it was an illusion of choice.

you hesitantly relax, allowing jake to manoeuvre himself between your thighs so his nose brushed against your covered slit.

the sight was erotic, jake looked like he was in heaven when he saw the giant wet patch on your panties.

"you've made a mess, fuck angel," he groans before he's pushing your underwear to the side, his nose poking your clit before you feel his tongue on you.

you let out a squeak when you felt his fingers dig into your thighs as he leaves no part of you untouched with his tongue. he moans into you, the vibration of the sound making you squirm in pleasure.

using his ring and pointer finger, he spreads your lips to get a good look at you, "you're even better than i imagined," he murmurs softly which falls deaf to your ears before resuming his actions.

you tried to keep your moans down but had a hard time doing so when you felt his tongue draw the figure '8' on your clit repeatedly. "f-fuck jake, s'good," you slur out, your grip on his hair tightening.

your hands find there way into jake's dark locks, his eyes rolling back in pleasure when you tug on them. "who knew a slut like you tasted so good," he says but his words come out muffled and only added to your pleasure.

he grins against your sopping pussy, his actions getting firmer and faster when he feels your body quiver and your moans get increasingly louder.

you release jakes hair to cover your mouth in an attempt to silence your moans, however, he didn't like that. you're eyes roll back when you feel him push a digit into your soaking cunt, all while focusing on applying firm pressure to your clit with his tongue.

you could feel your high approaching quickly, which was expected due to your denied orgasm just a few minutes ago. you look down at him for a moment only to meet his eyes already staring right at you, the stare causing you to buck your hips against his mouth as you shamelessly chase your high.

"so pretty baby, so pretty when you grind your slutty pussy on me," he groans as he slurps you like a starving man. he could tell you were close, the look of pure pleasure and concentration on your face gave it away. the way your hips bucked against him drove him crazy, his dick straining against his boxers once again.

"m'gnna cum," you moan, your hands reaching down to grab a hold of jake's hair again—making him groan in pleasure. "please jakey, can i cum? please let me cum," you whined, bucking your hips against him feverishly.

you could feel him nod and that was enough for you to let go. dropping your head back you let out low moan, eye rolling to the back of your head as you feel yourself come undone over jake's face and tongue. "that's it pretty," he says against you, his mouth still on you—helping you ride out your high.

still coming down for your orgasm you feel yourself being pushed to the edge of the desk, your legs hanging over momentarily before you felt them wrap around a torso.

jake leaves no moment to spare, his hands coming down to unbutton and yank off your shirt—letting it fall somewhere on the ground. a groan leaves his mouth when he sees your baby pink bra, hugging your tits so perfectly that he was jealous that his hands weren't doing that job.

"so pretty, __," he mumbles, pulling down your bra enough for your tits to spill out. his tongue comes out to wet his lips before he's bending over to take one of your pebbled nipples into your mouth.

soft moans slip out of your mouth when he alternates between both of your breasts, taking one into his mouth while he fondles the other one with his hand. your breath hitches when you feel jake grind into your exposed core, his hand coming down to let his cock slip out of his boxers so he could slide his dick against your folds.

"so wet for me," he groans, popping one of your nipples out of his mouth to stare at your face. saying you looked fucked out was an understatement, hair was messy and your makeup was completely gone. but jake thought you looked as beautiful as ever.

"jakey, please," you beg, moving your hips to try and catch his cock. jake grins, "look at you, __. begging for my dick, begging for the dick of someone you hate."

you hated how smug he looked, and all you wanted to do was bitch back at him and show him his real place. however, you wanted his dick in you more.

jake moves back, towering over your frame before he taps the fat head of his cock against your puffy folds. a hiss leaving his mouth when he watches your hole tighten over nothing.

"i've been waiting to do this for so long, __. you don't even know it," he says before he's plunging into you, not letting you think to much about what he said.

gripping your thighs tightly, he bottoms out completely, leaving your mouth hanging in an 'o' shape while jake lets out smalls grunts—feeling your walls flutter around his length.

"so big," you moan, your hands reaching out to grip jake's shirt as he snaps his hips into you ruthlessly.

jake feels as if he's about to combust, after years of back and fourth, countless arguments and rivalry— he was buried deep inside you. this was exactly what he wanted from the beginning, but teenage jake didn't know how to articulate his feelings and made his crush think of him as an enemy rather than a love interest.

he watches your tits bounce with every stroke, mesmerized by the sight. he could get used to this, and he will.

"so good for me, pretty. taking my cock s'well," jake slurs, the sound of skin slapping filling the library. he was surprised that no one had caught them yet, but he wouldn't stop even if they were.

you feel the table move with every thrust, your back arching as you claw at him at the feeling of being so full. the wet sounds you were making when jake began to rub circles on your aching clit made you moan out.

never in a million years would you have thought you'd be in this position, sure, jake was a star in some of your dirty fantasies but you'd never act on it. to think the nerd knew how to fuck, you were a bit surprised at how fast his hips moved and how he pounded into you ruthlessly.

"look at you, taking me so w-well," jake groans, his balls tightening as he feels himself approaching his high quickly. he begins to rub your clit firmer as his pace quickens and strokes get deeper, making sure you could feel every inch of his cock in your dripping wet cunt.

he could feel you tighten around him and he knew you were close as well. his hand comes to wrap around your neck, pulling you up from the desk so your face to face with him—his thrusts not slowing down.

"fuck look at you pretty, all ready for my cum," he murmurs before he pulls you in for a scorching kiss—swallowing your moans.

"you gonna cum, pretty?" he asks as he feels his stomach tighten with every stroke, watching you bite your lip as you try to match his thrusts. you nod frantically at his words, "m'gonna cum, jakey. please make me cum," you beg softly as you hold onto his shoulders for support.

"yeah? gonna cum? cum for me, pretty," he mumbles against your lips before he lands a smack against your throbbing clit. your body shakes as you come undone, jake's high following soon after. you could feel his hot cum shoot into you, the feeling leaving you breathless as he continues to fuck into you—making sure you milked him dry.

he pulls out of you gently, cursing when he watches his cum fall out of your fucked out cunt and onto the desk. "did so good for me, pretty."

you lay limply on the desk, your body twitching ever so slightly as you come down from your high—still in shock of what happened.

before your had a chance to gather yourself and ask the question: what now? he beats you to it.

"simone says, go out with me."

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here !

#enhypen #enha x reader #enha imagines #enhypen jake #jake sim #sim jaeyun #jake x reader #jake smut #jaysbaefie #smut #kpop #sim jaehyun x reader #highschool rivals #enemies to lovers #e2l #enha scenarios

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inuiiwonderland · 4 months ago

Text

BABY

The boys invite you over to their house but now suffer with their moms/siblings/parents showing you their baby pictures<3 gn reader!!!

Ace trappola

He leaves for ONE second. One second and he can already hear your small giggles coming from his room as he hears the voice of his older brother with you.

Oh gross don’t tell me he’s flirting with you!

Ace thinks as he quickly shoots his way up the stairs. The boy brows were furrowed as he slams the door wide open. He was ready to cuss up a storm like a sailor and tell his brother to fuck off and leave but froze once he sees what you’re holding.

OH!

You were the first one to break the silence as you throw your head back as a laugh escapes your lips.

“Oh sevens you were one ugly baby!” You say. Trying very hard to keep in your giggles as you look over at the picture. His brother cackling right next to you.

“Oh totally! He looked like a dried up raisin” His brother says in between laughter.

“HEY! No I didn’t!” Ace can feel the tip of his ears heat up as he marches right towards you two.

“These pictures say otherwise” You flipped to the second page and quickly slapped your hand over your mouth.

“Oh sevens…” Ace quickly tries snatching the book from your hands but his brother stops him before he could.

“Oh my! Is that-“

“Yep! He couldn’t go ANYWHERE without it!” In the picture, you can see THE ace trappola standing with a wide toothy grin on his face as he holds onto an equally adorable bunny stuffed animal.

“Oh this one is my favorite!” He points to a photo of baby Ace dressed up as a strawberry as he cried his eyes out. You can see his brother standing next to him with a big smile on his face as Ace looks like he’s about to pop a vain. The next picture shows him all calm and smiley as he’s given his favorite bunny stuffed animal.

“Aweeee ace! You were so adorable!!” You squeal. With his brother now laughing and wheezing, Ace was able to immediately snatch the photo album from your hands as his whole face was a bright cherry red.

“Okay that’s enough and get the hell outta my room jack ass!”

Deuce spade

He should’ve known something was up when it suddenly got quiet. He carefully walks back to his room with a tray in hand filled with cookies. The moment he opens the door he lets out a loud shriek as he watches his mom excitedly showing you his baby pictures.

“M-mom? What are you-“

“This was him at 2 months! Isn’t he cute?”

“For sure! Aw look at those chubby cheeks!”

“Oh and this was on his 6th birthday party! Look at those dimples!” She says as you squealed in awe. The two of you continued to flip through the baby album as deuce turned redder and redder by the seconds.

“Aww you were such a cutie deucy!” His face instantly goes red as he sets down the tray on the table.

“Oh oh! And look at this!”

“Is that a bunny onesie?” You squeal out. He immediately gulps knowing the embarrassing stories behind that onesie.

“Yes! I bought it for him for the white rabbit fest! He loved it so much he would always wear it to bed or when we go buy groceries. He cried really hard when he outgrew it though”

“I-I did not! I was just sad that’s all! I did not cry!”

“Oh! Look at this one! This was taken on his first day of school! I still remember it like it was yesterday. After taking that photo, he wouldn’t let go of me! He didn’t want to go in at all and we had to have three teachers come and drag him inside as he cried his little heart out! I remember feeling so terrible but I had to go to work”

“Okay that’s enough! No more baby photos and embarrassing stories!” He says as he snatches the book away.

“No wait please I want to see more!”

Sebek Zigvolt

It’s been 5 minutes already and you still weren’t back from the bathroom! You told him you would be quick and now he’s slowly growing impatient from your absence. He gets up and storms out of the room as he makes his way to the bathroom.

“Human! You have been in there for almost 10 minutes! Is something wrong?!” Silence. He frowns before knocking again.

“You know we have to study for that Alchemy test this upcoming week!”

Again nothing. Just as he was about to knock again a loud laugh and giggles could be heard from downstairs. And those giggles sounded eerily familiar.

Wait

That’s your giggles!

In a speed of light does he make it downstairs and to the kitchen where the laughs and giggles were coming from.

There stood you and his father going through sebek baby photo album.

“W-what are you doing?!” He screeched.

“Oh sebek! I was just showing your friend your baby photos!” His father said cheerfully. The half fae turned bright red as he was ready to yell but was stopped the moment he heard his name being called from behind him.

“Sebek Zigvolt. What did I tell you about yelling in the house?!” There stood his mother. Brows furrowed as her arms were crossed over her chest.

“Anywho! Look! This was him when he first came into this world!”

“Awww! I guess he’s always been loud from the looks of it” You say. Chuckling at the photo in front of you.

“Oh don’t get me started. He was crying up a storm and I swear I could feel my eardrums burst” His mother sighs as she walks over to the sink. His father smiles as he looks down at the album.

“Yeah he was a crier. Oh look at this one!” He shows you a picture of 4 month old sebek staring wide eyed at the camera. Chubby cheeks and big ole eyes.

“Awww! You were adorable!”

“Oh this is my favorite one!” His mother points at one where you can see sebek wearing a knight costume. From the looks of it it must’ve been Halloween. He wore a proud smile as he held up his sword. You coo at the photo as they both continued to show you more.

“Oh look at this one! He saw a horror movie for the first time and there was a scene where the father sacrifices himself for his kids and he burst out into tears! He wouldn’t let go of his dad for weeks!”

“Enough! Let’s go back to studying!” He says as he grabs your hand and pulls you away from his parents and the photo album.

“Wait no one more !”

This was an old draft from like a year ago🌝 I just decided to finish it now😖

I FULLY BELIEVE DEUCE HAD DIMPLES JUST LIEK ME! IDC WHAT YALL SAY!!!!

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im-not-a-pleeb · 29 days ago

Text

After Midnight

John Price X Fem!Reader

John Price steps in as Reader's fake boyfreind when her ex stalks her in the club.

"Put your hands on me, dove."

"What?" You chirp.

"He's comin' over. Put your hands on me."

"Fuck."

Your muttered explitive is completely drowned out by the music shuddering through the air in the club.

You'd recognize that godawful haircut anywhere. Apparently even through a dimly lit room crammed with people. Flashing lights and all, there was no doubt that your ex was here, and that he was scanning the crowd for someone.

You.

Panic laces your bloodstream on the middle of the dance floor. Your lungs seize abruptly and the sheen of sweat on your skin cools, leaving you shivering. You weren't a party girl. You didn't go to clubs. You were only out tonight because you wanted- no, you needed to prove to yourself that you were still desirable after all the nasty things he said about you during the breakup.

It's like dropping a pebble down a well and listening for the splash, left with the anticipation for some eventual sound that could come at any moment. And every second the stone doesn't plunk into the water below, time stretches until it's still. Until it snaps. Your eyes meet his across the room. Your stomach pits.

You run.

Taking off, you aim for the back of the club where it's darker. You nudge and slide your way through the sea of grinding couples and a spike of anger parts your fears momentarily. Because isn't it just like him to show up and ruin your night. Not that you were having a particularly fantastic time to begin with- but still. It's the sentiment of it all.

You stalk towards the dingy 'staff only' hallway where a few people ( who definitely aren't staff) are making out. Hopefully your ex will take one look at the blatant PDA and head the other way, because yeah. It does make people uncomfortable.

The soles of your shoes stick to the floor as you duck next to a mountain of a man - who is thankfully standing alone. He towers over you by at least a foot and you use his wide, sturdy build to hide yourself further from the room. If he does notice you, he doesn't show it. Instead, he seems more focused on sulking down here in the tunnel of shame and fumbling hands.

You groan and fall back against the postered walls, covering your eyes. The papers advertising various underground DJs are a little soggy from what you hope is beer (at least it smells like it) so you straighten back up with a grimace. Definitely showering when you get home. A draft of cool night air slips through the hall from beneath the exit, making you wrap your arms protectively around your middle.

You bite your lip, eyeing the door. You could slip out into the alley and leave that way... with that route you'd be able to avoid your ex, but you'd only be trading your bad situation in for a worse one. Frankly, you weren't terribly keen on the idea of dealing with whoever would be hanging around the back lane at this hour. It might be better to risk leaving through the front...

"A'right?" The big strangers deep, gravely voice tugs you back from your spiraling thoughts. It hauls you to dry land as easily as a mother cat grabs her wet kitten by the scruff and delivers it to safety. You tilt your chin to face him and with one look up at this man's eyes, you knew that's exactly what he offered. Safety.

His face was a little weathered. Big nose, smallish, blue eyes that would make the ocean jealous. Well-maintained beard and mutton chops. He was built masterfully, too, all shoulders and hard lines. All in all a gorgeous man, but more than that- he exuded a sense of protection and control that was damn near palpable.

It was unexplainable. In the same way that you knew your ex was here for you, you knew that this man would help you. So you answered his question honestly.

"No." You weren't alright.

"What's wrong, then?" He shifts his body to sheild you further, while still keeping half an eye on the rest of the room. Your gaze roams quickly over the bulge of his arms as they fold over his broad chest.

With a deep, albeit shakey breath, you recount how your recent breakup went bad. How your ex won't leave you alone. How he keeps showing up to your home, your work, and now you're almost positive that he is here to confront you. You'd hoped that blocking him on everything would be enough to dissuade him from talking to you, but clearly you'd been praying to a false God on that account.

Much to your surprise, he doesn't try to inturupt you while you talk. The man simply listens, his chin tucked down and expression unreadable, brows furrowed and eyes fixed intently on your face. He nods once when you're finished speaking, grunting when he spots your fingers playing nervously at your sides.

"Can you describe 'im for me?" He asks, stopping you from peering past his shoulder with the mere lift of his pointer and middle fingers that rested on his bicep. "Without lookin'."

"Oh. Yeah." You rub your own arms, trying to soothe away the goosebumps. "Tall- well- not as tall as you. Green eyes, blond hair. Horrendous man bun and shaved on the sides, you know?" Making a gesture beside your own head, you look up to make sure he's understanding. His mustache twitches.

"Mm, I know the type." He rumbles, a smirk playing at his lips. "What's he wearin'?"

"I don't know." You deflate. You'd been more focused on getting out of sight than on what he'd been wearing.

"S'alright." He touches your arm, attention slipping away from you momentarily. His easy posture doesn't change, but he stiffens. "Dark jeans, white jumper?"

"Jumper?" You wrinke your nose in confusion at the unfamilair british term.

"Hoodie." He translates for you.

"Oh. Yeah. I mean- maybe?"

Before you can blink, he's caging you in against the wall, both hands planted on either side of your head. Maybe you squeak, but the music swallows your surprise readily. There's no time to react before he leans in next to your ear, beard tickling your cheek as he murmurs:

"Think he's lookin'."

Automatically, you go to turn your head only to end up brushing your lips along his jawline. His facial hair prickles and you think you like it. Blushing furiously, you open your mouth to apolagise but the words die on your tongue when he moves closer. He consumes you without being invasive, crowding you now, but still careful not to touch you directly. He's so near that you can feel the heat radiating off of him between the scant distance of your chests.

"Put your hands on me, dove."

"What?" You chirp.

"He's comin' over. Put your hands on me." It's a demand this time. There's something in his tone now that you can't ignore, something that compells you to shiver and obey. He drops his head, nosing along the curve of your neck and collarbone as you slip your hands inside of his unzipped cargo jacket. The warmth of him instantly envelops you, seeping into your very bones. You're not cold anymore, you're almost too hot.

It's a casually deceptive act from both of you, and there's something so respectfully intimate in how he breathes you in, lips skimming up to your chin and leaving behind a trail of sparks. A hot puff of his breath tousels your hair and you ball your fists in the back of his shirt. It's only at his chuff of laughter when you realise you've tilted your head for more...

"Hey man, what the fuck you think you're doing with my girl?" Your ex's voice breaks whatever spell this man had put you under. The breath you'd been holding whooshes out of your lungs like you were punched, and the muscles that had turned to honey from just his proximity grow tense again at the unwanted presence.

The towering man doesn't lift his head immediatly. Instead, he hums beside your ear - a low, almost annoyed sound - and lets his beard rasp along your cheek lazily before looking up at the intrusion.

"Doesn't look like she's your girl anymore, eh?" He says casually, but there's an edge to his voice as he sizes up the other man. You're still practically engulfed by him. He hasn't given you back a millimeter of space, keeping himself all but pressed up against you. His hands haven't moved either, you note. They're both still beside your head, braced on the wall. Haven't even touched you and your knees are weak.

"Well she is, so I reccomend that you get the fuck off her, pal." Your ex repeats, tone haughty and he squares his shoulders like he actually thinks he could go head to head with this guy and come out victorious. He turns his attention to you then, still for the most part hidden by the stranger's frame. "I didn't come here to see you throwing yourself at whoever will take you like some common whore." He sneers.

Your cheeks flush in agitation at the insult. He's said such things before, but never to embarrass you in front of other people. The man previously dominating your personal space finally takes a step back, rolling his shoulders and expanding his chest. But before he can say anything, you're pushing in front of him to stand up to your ex. Because how dare he?

Ever since he got comfortable in your relationship, your ex had treated you like shit and you'd put up with it because really he was a sweet guy when he was happy. But you were done. He'd crossed the final line by insulting you in front of someone else, and the burly man standing behind you gave you enough confidence that your ex wouldn't deck you the second you laid into him.

"I don't know what part of 'never talk to me again' is so hard for you to understand! I don't want to see you, I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to call you... nothing! You need to accept that this-" You gesture between the two of you, "Is over. It's been over for a long time and I've told you every way I know how. We're finished, Okay?" You explode.

"Okay, but I just think you should give me another chance. I'll change." Your ex tries, pathetically trying to sweettalk his way back into your life. It might have worked on you once, but not anymore.

"No! I don't need to do anything else for you. I 'just think' that it's your turn to do something for me, and you can start by getting the fuck out of my life."

"Baby, I-" your ex starts, but you cut him off with a humourless laugh.

"Are you even hearing me right now? Are you hearing yourself!? We. Are. Over. I'm not your baby. I'm not your girl. I'm not your anything. Clear?"

He blinks stupidly. It was the first time you'd actually held your own against him. The first time you'd talked back and clearly he didn't know how to take it.

"Am I fucking clear?" You snap.

"Yeah." He swallows, brushing it off with a shrug. "Yeah, it's clear. It's whatever." He clears his throat, trying to play off his discomfort with an attempted smile. A smile that you mock and twist right back at him.

"One more thing." Your grin is sugary sweet and poisonous. Pure saccharine. "Call me whore again and I'll break your fucking nose."

The slapped expression on your ex's face is priceless. He wisely decides not to say anything else before walking away, seeming stunned.

Still grinning, you turn to the man behind you. He's stood unwavering, looking entertained and seeming more than a little impressed. With a surge of confidence and heady elation, you reach up and tug him towards you by his neck.

His eyebrows raise a little in surprise, but he leans down to meet you where you've stretched up on your toes to close the distance. He ducks his head, lips barely skimming yours before pulling away. You pout, glancing at him in displeasure. And then he's kissing you.

This time, he doesn't hold back. An arm snakes around your middle and heaves you against his chest, keeping you anchored to him with a heavy palm pressed to your lower back. His other hand tangles in your loose hair, tugging your head to angle you how he wants.

A breathy groan slips from your mouth, lips parting beneath his as thunder rumbles behind his sternum.

"Knew you'd be a needy little thing."

You feel your cheeks flush but you nod, just wanting more of him. The pulse of the bass hijacks your system and you're not sure if it's his heartbeat or yours that pounds in your ears. You tug at him desperately, and he huffs, smirking while you card your fingers through his hair. The scent of burnt spices envelops you just before he does.

"Christ, you're a sight."

His lips are on yours again, licking into your open mouth. He tastes like whiskey, you think leisurely, and you eagerly sip the flavour from his lips. The man - you still don't know his name - steps you back against the wall and slips a knee between your thighs.

The movement elicits a gasp as you clutch at him, hips pressing forward. He greedily swallows all the sounds that he draws from you, letting you grind against him for a moment before he stops you. His fingers tightens at your waist, stilling your restless motion. He doesn't want you to be greedy. He wants you to take what he gives you.

Instead, he rocks his thigh against you, letting the feeling build. You're gasping shamelessly against his lips, beard scratching your chin while he brings you nearer and higher. It makes it all the more cruel when he begins to slow before you can reach the peak you crave.

"Not here, dove. Not tonight." His voice thrums in your ear.

Protest leaves you in a whine. As badly as you want more of him, you have to reluctantly agree. The shame that would come with getting off in some dirty hallway with a guy you barely even know... it would fester the rest of the night.

He kisses you a little longer though, a little deeper. His lips are softer now, less demanding. Like he's trying to gradually calm the storm he evoked within you, to soothe that same ache he is responsible for.

When he finally breaks the kiss you're left flushed and panting, clinging to him to stay standing.

"Oh god." You breathe. "I don't usually do that- kiss random men in clubs."

"That so?" He asks, seeming amused.

"Mhm. I don't even know your name." You touch your fingers to your mouth and hope that your lipgloss isn't smudged to oblivion.

"S'John, sweetheart." He brushes the rough pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, smearing some of the remaining moisture.

"John." You repeat, trying it out. It's a good, solid name. Hefty on the tongue. "Thanks for... you know, scaring him off and everything."

"Oh I think you did all the work there, love." John chuckles, and you can't help but laugh too. "I wouldn't like to be on your bad side."

"You'd be hard pressed." You murmur, marveling at how the blue strobes highlight his features, dancing across his face and blinding you. But they dim in comparison to those eyes.

"Would I?" He lowers his voice to a pleased rumble. The hand on your hip kneads the flesh there gently.

You nod, blushing. The few shots you had earlier must be filtering through your conciousness now, because everything's a little hazy and your cheeks are hot. Hotter than just a blush.

The floor dips gently and you sway into him, barely bracing yourself with hand slapped haphazardly against his ribs.

"Sorry." You giggle, pulling back. He doesn't let you go far, though, holding tight at your waist to keep you from tipping over again.

"Alright, dove?" He asks, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

"Mhmm." You hum, still captivated by the lights playing exquisitely over the lines of his face.

"How'd you get here, sweetheart?"

"Took a cab." You tell him.

"Let me drive you back."

You hesitate. "Are you sure?" The last thing you want is to take advantage of his goodness.

John just hums and presses a kiss to the corner of your lips.

"Course" He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Gotta make sure my girl gets home safe, don't I?"

GUYS I'm so excited this is my first work in years! I'm still getting back into writing, but i hope you enjoyed it <3. Personally I'm not thrilled with how it came out, but my perfectionism needs to calm down, I'm sure it's good enough.

I realized there isn't actually that much Price in this Price fanfic.... I'm sorry! I swear there will be more of him in my next work!! You guys are gonna go crazy, I promise 😏😌

#john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price #john price cod #cod fanfic #john price fanfiction #A.M Writes #after midnight #this isnt inspired by the song #but i thought the title worked just as well and it kinda fits tbh

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doorp · 1 month ago

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the third house is so silly its the fucking ‘I eat hot chip and lie but you’ll like it because my lies are sexy’ house. It’s the ‘every time I show up i am noticeably out of place in the narrative i find myself in because ive sucker punched my way into being relevant’ house. a fundamental trait of the third house is just believing that you’re the main character when you’re absolutely not. They’re a house of tragically genre and role confused characters. Even down to their literature, (Abella Trine, the heroine of palamedes’ terrible river bubble novel he’s stuck with) the third house always acts in a way that implies that they all think they’re the main character of a trashy novel. And its so funny because they succeed! 90 percent of the time in any story, the main character randomly appears in the narrative with no warning to any of the other characters, and out of nowhere begins to affect the plot in ways unthinkable to the supporting cast.

In tlt we as the readers get to see that dynamic from the *other perspective* corona and ianthe and naberius and valency and cyrus are NOT the main characters, but any time they appear theres this sense of bewilderment you get when you think about them for like 2 seconds. Like where the hell did you come from man?? By all accounts you should not be doing this well. Who ARE YOU. Who do you *think* you are??? Throughout Gideon the ninth, ianthe is just like fucking stalking everyone and ignoring the entire plot to skulk around who knows where, and the only times she gets a spotlight or opens her mouth, the vibes are deplorable! delightfully nasty! befuddling! Every 80 pages ianthe pops out of her hole for 2 pages to say something weirdly ominous or offensive, and you’re like. Okay weird nasty c plot character you’re pretty funky and I kinda forgot you were here. AND THEN. NINETY PERCENT OF THE WAY THROUGH THE BOOK. SHE COMES OUT OF NOWHERE TO GIVE A DRAMATIZED VILLAINOUS SPEECH ABOUT HOW SHE KILLED AND ATE A DUDE. AND SHE WASNT EVEN THE ONE DOING ALL THE OTHER MURDERS. This is a completely unrelated murder she has committed, for completely unrelated reasons. everyone should now realize that they underestimated her and rue the day they assumed lesser of her necromantic capabilities! She even admits she had a whole speech planned out thats going Not Well bc the guy she ate is trying to come back up.

Babs is tragically in the wrong genre, stretching his fabulous abs for no one who cares, i mean, he is a guy who- in any book not filled with toxic lesbian drama- would be a star player, but he’s not! He gets eaten and all anyone there who knew him had to say about it was “babs? Who even cares about babs!” In line with the thirds rule of tropious misplaced leads with main character syndrome, he is a trope that is subverted tragically in that he has everything that should set him up for success narratively, yet any time he is mentioned or does anything ever, he’s humiliated! all his lovers cheat on him, even when he wins a duel he gets shat on by everyone there bc his personality sucks, no one cares about his abs, he’s stuck in a toxic power dynamic with bad twin and worse twin, he gets fucking EATEN. Babs by all accounts would be the successful male lead but gets ZERO WINS over the course of the entire series. You’re confused about how and why this kind of character is in this kind of book, and it makes perfect sense that he does not do well! He has you thinking “what is this hetero romance lead doing in this book of ravenous lesbians. I hate him. I hope they eat him.” And then they DO. Hes not supposed to be in this book but he insists he is and it gets him killed.

Cyrus and Valency never actually appear in the story, yet still manage this bewildering insistence of their own importance. Who else but 2 people eternally convinced that they are the main characters would paint dozens of their own nudes and give them out at birthday parties? I rest my case.

Corona is the most subtle out of all of these, the confident, charismatic and beautiful leader is present in any book no matter the genre. So what makes corona out of place? What makes her the genre switcher? Her relative mundanity. Her supreme insistence of making everything she does a hot girl summer, no matter the horrors. In as yet unset she is notably *not* the main character, yet she is able to turn the whole of Judith’s attempt at a gritty torturous prisoner of war log into a messy and petty sapphic drama. In nona the ninth she uses this power to become a key figure amongst characters such as: 10,000 year old woman stuck in her dead best friends body, A girl so obsessed with her QPR that shes dying bc she lets his ghost take over her body several times a day, the resurrected soul of the planet earth stuck inside the body of a malnourished 19 year old girl, a commando rebel nepo baby with 2 machetes and a gas mask, a 14 year old girl named hot sauce who keeps a gun in her pants. This is not to say Corona isn’t an outlandish or weird character. She’s MESSED up. this is to say that she has no magical powers or outlandish talent, yet still manages to come out of the woodwork performing deeds entirely unexpected. At some point in nona the ninth she is literally the only perfectly mortal person in a room of powerful superhumans and demigods. it has you thinking HOW AND WHY DID YOU GET HERE. and the answer is that shes third. This is what the third does. When you’re challenging a fascist demigod to a duel, the third comes in, grabs your gun, and goes “IM GOING TO KILL MYSELF IF YOU DONT FIGHT RIGHT NOW!” And because the fascist demigod is her sister and also third, it works somehow.

Speaking of that particular fascist third demigod: even when pal is fighting her in her mindscape, shes not the main character. Ianthe literally builds an entire pocket dimension where she is the center of attention of a stage play, and PAL is the main character. The third fundamentally cannot be main characters, bc their whole thing is being so self possessed that they feel like characters that are EXTREMELY genre confused.

The funny thing is, i think ianthe is the only one of these who realizes shes fundamentally misunderstood the role shes meant to play. In harrow the ninth she acts the roguish bad boy love interest who is mean and angsty to the female lead. She’s soooooo cynical, so quirky, referencing many times different tropes from trashy romance novels shes read. She directly parallels john in the belief that she is the main character. Its not until she spends her time babysitting and covering for john that she realizes she isnt like him, or realizes theyre both not what she thinks they are. She sees gods pathetic wallowing and is like “fuck. He thinks he’s the main character. Hes a pathetic villain. I think im the main character. Im a pathetic villain!” her experiences in the time between the end of harrow the ninth and when she shows up in nona have caused her to realize shes a full hog villain. She goes from “heh.. im the ill ignored female lead that no one expected…” in Gideon the ninth, to “heh… im the cynical bad boy romancer that the priggish female lead needs….” In harrow the ninth, to her nona the ninth mindset of “LMAO IM THE NARCISSISTIC VILLAIN!i am the fascist white girl this galaxy needs. The emperor is having a midlife crisis orgy and i am the shadow government. I literally don’t care anymore the zombie apocalypse is upon us and im best friends with a corpse who won’t stop moping over her ex” Whatever fucked up shit has happened to ianthe in that gap of time has caused her to completely reevaluate her role in the story.

anyway i love the third house. i love their freaky gimmicks and infiltrating the narrative and warping it to their own agenda bc they’re fundamentally genre confused. I love how it fucks them over in the stupidest ways.

#didnt mention this in the post bc I think a lot of people already know this #but abella was ianthes name before it was ianthe #this just hammers home to me that theyre all in the wrong stories #like purposefully and fundamentally #most of the evidence for this is in ianthe bc we know her the best but all the others do this too #the locked tomb #ianthe tridentarius #tlt #naberius tern #coronabeth tridentarius

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 8 months ago

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i am living for some angst 👀

especially some satoru angst

Hold me. Console me.

Tags: Satoru x fem!Reader, angst, hurt/comfort, depictions of poor mental health, depiction of a panic attack, Satoru’s a little bit of an asshole here.

An: Same… same. Before you read this and blame me for how fucked this story is, know that one of my moots (cough. cough. @theuniversesnepobaby cough.) was sending me sad angsty edits last night. this is partially her fault too.

Satoru was normally a very doting and attentive boyfriend. He’s the type to beg to be in your presence. He’d kill to feel your touch against his skin. “Casual” isn’t a word in his dictionary. When he loves, he loves loudly.

So when he got quiet with his love, your body started to fill with a sense of dread. Cold and bitter feelings crawled their way between you two. No longer did you two laugh until you were out of breath and red in the face. No longer did he surprise you with gifts or try to scare you when you’re unaware of his presence.

His strong arms hadn’t wrapped around you in so long. The ruthless chill of being utterly alone plagued you, while Satoru seemed fine. He was even taking on extra hours at his job. So many nights he didn’t come back until nearly midnight.

How could he not see what’s happening? How could he not notice how much you’re drowning?

“I’m going out.” His words are flat with no care put into them. He’s telling you because he feels as if it’s obligatory — not because he doesn’t want you to worry.

“Where are you going?” So many times have you tried to reach out. It was as if you two were passing back and forth a candle of your relationship. You had ignited the flame and passed it to him so many times, but each time, he snuffs it out without a second thought — leaving you in the dark. Maybe one more time, you metaphorically light the candle in hopes to kinder your relationship…

“Out.” Flame snuffed.

“Oh.” He’s done it so many times, but it hurts just as bad each and every time. Being single wouldn’t hurt this bad. At least you wouldn’t be getting rejected by your own boyfriend on a daily basis.

“See ya.” He doesn’t even give you a second glance as he grabs his coat and saunters out the door. Another night spent alone. Another night filled with a barely eaten tv dinner and a shitty reality tv show droning on in the back while you doomscroll on your phone.

You two use to watch these reality tv shows together and laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Satoru would hold you so close to his body, and he’d whine anytime you tried to adjust. When was the last time that happened? You never suspected the end of affectionate gestures would come while you two were still in a relationship.

You check Geto’s story on instagram. Sometimes, you’d catch small glimpses of Satoru in the back. Sometimes they were at a cafe or an arcade together. Tonight, it seemed as though Suguru was at very packed party scene.

You hold your breath in your lungs as you rewatch the story again and again — searching for a white head of hair. Your boyfriend makes it too easy for you to stalk him. Though, it feels like a fitting punishment for the turmoil he’s put you through.

No Satoru in sight. You sigh quietly before you check Shoko’s story. It was less likely that Satoru would be captured there, but he has made his appearances in the past. It seemed like tonight Shoko wasn’t present at whatever rager Suguru was at. She posted a picture of her beautifully written notes. She must be studying.

Nanami never posts on his story, so you don’t even bother going to check his barren profile. Haibara never features Satoru in his stories, so you skip his as well. This leaves you with one last option.

Your hand is a little shaky as you click on Utahime’s story. You don’t know when it started, but your cheeks and ears were wet with tears already. Your body had some sort of sick sixth sense for knowing when something was wrong, and something was terribly wrong.

You had always had your little insecurities about Utahime ever since Satoru indulged that he had a small crush on her back in high school. Of course, these were just fleeting thoughts. Up until recently, you knew with full confidence that you had Satoru’s heart. He wouldn’t stray from you.

You didn’t have that same confidence anymore. Satoru had withdrawn, and it seemed as if he took his heart with him.

You hate being right. You wish you were wrong sometimes. On Utahime’s story, she’s seemingly at the same party that Suguru’s at. Her story is littered with pictures of her with other girls that you don’t recognize, videos of the loud music and people dancing in a crowd, and there’s just one last video on her story that makes your heart sink to your stomach.

Your boyfriend’s pretty blue eyes illuminated by the flash from her back camera. He smiled and laughed as Utahime filmed him. His face was littered with wine red lipstick kiss marks. Utahime had a grab on your boyfriend’s collar, obviously trying to hold his drunk self still while she filmed his crime.

It felt like a punch straight to your gut. You couldn’t even think straight, but you knew you needed to keep this evidence in case she deletes it. Your fingers shakily screenshot the story, logging the picture of Satoru covered in someone else’s affections.

He was out there feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness, receiving kisses from another, dancing to his heart’s content, and enjoying his life while you were sat at home weeping over the loss of your boyfriend.

The tv dinner, now cold and stale, was thrown into the garbage, and whatever little bit you had eaten came up soon after.

The picture was seared into your memory. You didn’t have to look at it to know every minor detail. The way his white hair was messy. His glasses were pulled down ever so slightly to reveal his devastatingly beautiful eyes. His coat hung on his shoulders while his muscular neck peaked out from his shirt.

Every time you closed your eyes, you thought about how many kiss marks he had on his face. How many times had he allowed himself to cheat on you? Was this the first time? Had it gone farther than this? Was it Utahime or some other girl?

You cried yourself to sleep, knowing that Satoru wouldn’t even come home to try to console you.

The next morning, you were disappointed as soon as you woke up. You wished sleep would’ve taken your body and whisked it away far, far from here. Instead, you’re still in your bed, sleeping on a pillow that was stained from your mascara.

If you could, you’d rot in bed all day and try to forget the godforsaken video you saw last night, but you had to make a trip to the restroom.

Forcing your weak body out of bed, you let out a small pained moan. You haven’t eaten a proper meal in so long, and you threw up whatever you did eat yesterday. Your appetite was completely diminished. Satoru use to say that food tasted better when it was shared. He always shared his meals with you, unbeknownst to him, helping you maintain a good schedule for eating.

Your apartment was too bright when you stepped out of the bathroom, and it smelled too much of food. The sizzling on the stove finally caught your drowsy attention.

The man of the hour, Satoru, was at your stove, shirtless and cooking something. Sleeping pants casually hung around his hips, and the dimples at the bottom of his back were so graciously being shown off. Did someone else know about those two little dimples? Even though back was facing you, you could already picture his face, littered with those stupid kiss marks.

Making a b-line for the bathroom, Satoru doesn’t even get the chance to greet you. Your hands were cold and clammy as your body uncontrollably heaved over the toilet. You had nothing left to give, but Satoru was taking everything from you.

Hot tears burned your cheeks as they slipped down your face. You didn’t want to do this. You wished you would’ve never saw that fucking video last night. You should’ve given yourself plausible deniability, but now, you had to face the music.

You slowly returned back to the kitchen after trying your best to clean yourself up. Your eyes focused on Satoru. He was finishing up cooking bacon when his eyes finally met yours and drove daggers through your heart.

“Good morning, sweetness. Something wrong?” He asks with so much care in his tone. You fantasize about hitting him — just once. How dare he suddenly care when you have to check out?

You don’t even know what to say to him. Like, yes, something is clearly fucking wrong, Satoru. I’m dating an unfaithful jerk.

“What are you doing here?” You ask bluntly, wiping your face of the remnants of tears and makeup that had stained your skin. He shouldn’t be allowed to see how badly he hurt you.

“I… live here?” He responds in a questioning tone, furrowing his white eyebrows as he studies your face. “Are you okay?” If only he had asked that question weeks ago, then maybe you two wouldn’t be in this mess today.

“No, and you don’t live here anymore.” You snap, causing him to slightly flinch back — not out of fear but out of surprise. He’s never seen you like this before.

“What do you mean, sweetness? I-“

“Cut the shit, Gojo. Don’t act stupid with me. It’s unbecoming.” You interrupt him completely, not wanting to hear him try to act innocent when you have all the proof you need on your phone.

“Woah. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I don’t really appreciate the insult and the use of my government name. I genuinely have no idea of what you’re talking about.” His voice is firm, laced with sternness, so you can see that he’s not playing around with you.

You take a deep breath until your lungs burn. You want to scream at him, chase him out of the house, and light his shit on fire. Instead, you silently go to retrieve your phone. Pulling up the picture of him with kiss marks all over his face, you shove the screen in his direction.

Gojo takes a few seconds to take in the photo, and he lets his shoulders drop. “This is what you’re mad over, sweetness?” He asks in a much more calm tone, looking up at you with almost puppy dog eyes.

“Don’t call me that.” You snap while swiping your phone back from his hands. “I didn’t think I’d have to spell it out for you, but we’re fucking done.”

“You seriously believe that I would cheat on you?” He asks in that stupid arrogant tone of his, completely ignoring your blunt rejection.

“Why else would your high school crush post a picture of you with kiss marks all over your face!? You look so fucking dumb and in love. I fucking-“ Your throat chokes up as if your body was trying to stop you from saying something you didn’t mean. The words “I fucking hate you” die right there on your lips. Tears fall down your cheeks, and you place your palms over your eyes to hide yourself from his impregnable gaze.

“This, again?” He asks in a frustrated tone before letting out an exasperated sigh, He turns the stove off - abandoning his food before walking over to you. He bends his knees a bit to get on your level. “Look at me.” He demands before his hands go to pull yours away from your eyes.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You cry out, jerking back away from his presence. Your breath speeds up. The oxygen isn’t having enough time to enter your bloodstream. Your body is vibrating, forcing the air quickly from your lungs. Everything is moving so fast and why the fuck is he so close to you-? He’s suffocating. Fuck, catch your breath. Whyhim?Whyyou?Why?Why?Whatdidyoudotodeservethis???

A gush of air is blown harshly onto your face, and you can feel the bitter cold feeling of something touching your skin. Your eyes see Satoru’s hand holding an ice cube, guiding it along your warm skin on your arm. Your body is so hot that it’s melting faster than he’s moving it.

“Breathe. Match my movements.” Satoru guides in a calm yet steady tone. Your eyes find the way his chest is slowly rising and falling with each breath. You want to tell him to go play in traffic. You don’t need him to ground you. You don’t need him to do anything for you. You don’t need him.

Still, your body matches his slowly. Your breath becomes more stable, and you can feel your heart starting to settle into a more natural rhythm. Your bleary eyes meet his empathetic ones. It’s been so long since your last panic attack, but he remembers just how to calm you down.

It only makes it all hurt so much worse.

“It’s almost over. You’re doing a good job.” He takes his chances at encouraging you. It feels so sickening, more tears flee your eyes. Where had your boyfriend been, and why is he only just now back after he did the unthinkable?

“Sing with me.” It’s an odd request, but it’s something he found that grounds you better than most grounding techniques. Saying repeatable phrases in melodic tone is comforting for your mind.

“No.”

“Come on… Just one time. Your favorite.” He tries again. Metaphorically, lighting the candle and passing it back to you.

You shake your head in response. Flame snuffed. How can you sing with him after what he did to you?

“Come on, don't leave me it can't be that easy, babe” He starts with such a soft angelic voice. You fold in on yourself unable to keep the sob from escaping your throat. What method of torture is this??

“If you believe me I guess I'll get on a plane. Fly to your city excited to see your face.” He continues, lighting that same candle. It’s so small, barely there anymore from how many times you two have tried to relight it.

“Hold me, console me and then I leave without a trace.” The ice cube has completely melted, and his hand is resting on your arm. He slowly guides you to his chest, and you indulge in his warm embrace for just one last time.

“Come on, don't leave me it can't be that easy, babe.” His chin rests on top of your head. You’ve always fit so well in his arms. He’d always tell you that whatever higher power is out there made you specifically with him in mind.

“If you believe me I guess I'll get on a plane. Fly to your city excited to see your face.” His skin is so warm against yours, and your tears are sticking to your chest.

“Hold me, console me and then I leave without a trace.” You finally indulge him, softly joining in on his singing. His body slowly starts to guide you two into a soft subtle sway.

“Come on, don't leave me it can't be that easy, babe.” It’s not that easy. This fucking hurts so bad. Why would your soulmate do this to you?

“If you believe me I guess I'll get on a plane. Fly to your city excited to see your face.” You feel so pathetic — seeking out comfort from the one who hurt you this bad. If your friend could see you right now, she’d slap some sense into you.

“Hold me, console me and then I leave without a trace.”

You’re sniffling softly into his chest, and his hand carefully pets your hair. “Those kiss marks weren’t from Utahime.” He explains in a soft tone. “We were filming a TikTok. The punchline of the joke was that Suguru and Haibara were the ones who kissed all over my face.”

You look up at him with an unsure look on your face, not understanding what he meant. Satoru carefully picks your phone up, and he clicks on Haibara’s Instagram story from last night.

Sure enough, Haibara posted a TikTok of him, Suguru, Satoru, and Utahime. The camera points at Satoru, showing the kiss marks on his face, and the sound plays. “Bro, what happened to your face? Did you do that?” The camera then pans to Utahime to which she mouths the words, “I did not do that.” The camera then pans to Haibara with smeared wine red lipstick on his lips who says, “Then, who did?” The camera is then panned towards Suguru. He also had wine red lipstick smeared on his lips. “Yeah, who?” The two boys start laughing along with Satoru, and the video cuts.

It only comforts your weary heart slightly.

“It was just a stupid TikTok… I should’ve consulted you or warned you… done anything to respect you.”

“This doesn’t take back how awfully cold you’ve been over the last few weeks…” You sniffle out quietly, and Satoru nods his head knowingly.

“I know, sweetness.. I know. I’ve been terrible.” His arms squeeze you a bit tighter — frightened that he was so close to loosing you, still scared of losing you.

“That’s not an apology… or even a reason.” You try to squirm from his grip, but Satoru holds you tighter.

“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetness.” He breathes out a shaky breath, and you realize the shakiness in his voice. Glancing up at him, you feel yourself clam up with the sight of tears in his eyes. Christ, his eyes are somehow even more blue when he cries. “Shit got crazy at work then-“

“You still had time to party it up with your friends. You left me without even telling me you love me.” You finally break away from his grasp. The cheating accusation was only the surface of the main problem.

“You know I love you…” His voice is small, and he wipes his eyes of the tears that are threatening to spill.

“Do I know that?”

“Don’t… don’t say that.. I love you more than life itself.” His shaky hands go to reach for you again, but you move back away from him.

“You’re only doing this because I’m leaving you. If I hadn’t mentioned it, you’d probably still be half assed ignoring me.” You stare at him, and your eyes start to water for the nth time today.

“That’s not…” Satoru bites his tongue, and he runs a hand through his messy white hair. “I came home this morning… saw the uneaten tv dinner in the trash… Your reality tv show was still playing in the background, and I saw how you fell asleep with your makeup messed up… I realized then how much I neglected you… I planned a full day for us to enjoy each other’s presence… Please, don’t leave me for this. I can fix this.”

“How did it feel to look at me everyday when I tried so fucking hard to reach you?”

“It killed me.” He breathes out, and he tries to reach for you again. “Please, I missed you so much. Work was just so fucking much, and I don’t know why I took that out on you.”

You stare at him, and you shake your head silently. “You should go, Gojo..” Your voice cracked as it physically pained you to tell him to leave. Your body craves him more than anything else in the world right now.

“No, please, princess. Don’t do this… I can fix this. I’ll do whatever it takes… just don’t leave me…” Satoru’s on his knees, literally begging you not to leave him. Tears are falling down his cheeks as he bows his head to you.

It’s humiliating, but he’s so humiliatingly in love with you. He’s so dead serious. He’d do anything for you to stay with him.

“Toru..”

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I-I don’t know why I did it. I just pulled away from you, and I don’t know how it happened. You’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened t-to me. Please. I can’t function without you.”

You stare at your boyfriend with concern as his head literally touches the floor beneath him. You don’t even know what to say to him. The thought of leaving him hurts so fucking bad. It steals the breath from your lungs.

“Please don’t leave me… puh…. please stay with me.” He’s groveling at your feet, unable to stop the tears that escape his eyes. The thought of living in a world where you aren’t his girlfriend… he wouldn’t. He’d be a shell of who he once was. He’s nothing without you.

You slowly sit on the floor in front of him, and your hands stroke his soft hair gently. Satoru’s breath slows as he finally gets a grip on his emotions. He realizes just how pathetic he looks. He slowly leans up, and he looks at you. Both of you looked like complete messes, and it was all his fault.

“I don’t deserve you,” He murmurs quietly. “but please, I can make this better… I love you so much, sweetness… I wouldn’t dream of ever cheating on you.”

“I don’t forgive you.” Your voice is barely a whisper. The metaphorical flame is so small and shaky, but if you two both shield it from the wind, it’ll be able to grow once more. “You have a lot to prove me, Toru.”

“I’ll spend every waking minute of my life fixing this. I promise you, sweets.”

and he did. Satoru went back to loving you loudly. He didn’t merely shield the flame from being blown out, he fanned it himself so it grew in intensity. He was back to doting on you constantly, and he did frequent check-ins to make sure you weren’t feeling neglected. He took frequent vacations from work with you. He usually took you two out on holidays to wherever your heart desired, but sometimes you two would use his vacation time to just lounge around the house and enjoy each other’s presence.

Your confidence slowly returned to you over time. It wasn’t easy by any means. It took many nights of Satoru’s consistent reassurance and overwhelming love and support for you to slowly start feeling comfortable in your relationship with him.

He put in the work, nourished your flame, and he never made you feel guilty for having a second thought because when he loves, he loves deeply. Casual is not his strong suit.

#jjk #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #drabble #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo angst #satoru gojo #satoru angst #jjk angst #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jujutsu satoru #jjk satoru

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the-thing-inside-your-closet · 11 months ago

Text

GhostKing!Maddie

Reveal gone right. Good parents Jack and Maddie.

Danny tells his parents that he’s Phantom and they accept him with open arms and hearts and the willingness to change their views. With this they start their research on Ghost culture, because that’s a part of their baby’s life (afterlife?) now so of course they’re going to make sure they understand their son so as to avoid potential culture clashes in the future.

(Did you know ghosts fight as a form of bonding?! Fascinating!)

At some point in their research they learn that the method of succession for the title of King of the Infinite Realms if for the former king to be defeated in trial by combat.

They learn that Danny defeated the former king tyrant Pariah Dark.

Their little Dann-o is the new King.

But he’s just a baby! Their baby! Cry his parents.

Danny is only 14, going on 15. Even if he’s a teenager he’s still their baby boy, and he is far too young to be forced to deal with politics alongside school and all the other dramas that come with teenagerhood.

They were young once, the Fenton parents remember how major some things were for teenagers and how stressful it could be. And Danny had already been through so much with protecting the town. And they wanted to make up for what they put him through before they knew it was him. Danny says it alright, they didn’t know but they do now and that accept him and that’s what matters! And oh do their hearts ache at the memories of shooting at their son and all the terrible things they said about him while he was right there.

No, they wouldn’t allow their son to deal with everything in his own when they could help him. Somehow. How do they help with this?

Then, Maddie demands an audience with the council. There, declares herself the King.

The Observants argue that she can’t possibly be the King as she is not a ghost, nor did she defeat the previous king to take the title. And anything else that they could use to oppose the idea.

Maddie counters that as her son isn’t even legally old enough to drive yet (the age is 16 in American right?) he cannot take on such responsibilities until he is of a certain age. Jack is nodding along enthusiastically as Maddie verbally eviscerates these floating eyeballs.

Clockwork is smirking in the corner. He likes Phantom’s mother. And he agrees with the Drs Fenton. He backs her up, and says that young Daniel had other pressing matters to attend to and that yes, he is in fact too young for the full responsibilities that come with being the King of the Infinite Realms. He is so young, and still of the living being a halfa that he would require education of the Realms laws before he could officially take up the crown.

But what about Maddie? She’s fully human, how could she possibly be placed in that position then without the same training?

Clockwork smiles as Frosbite or maybe Pandora, one of Danny’s other allies, states that the council could handle things until then, and that they would have had to have waited regardless for Danny to be up to speed before he could feasibly take on the role of King and confidently make decisions without the guidance of the council at every turn. With Maddie as a placeholder she could still sign off on things or act as a figure head, at least until Phantom could take on his role as the fully realised King.

Anyway, Maddie becomes the Ghost King. Or at least temporarily while her baby boy finishes high school and can decide what he wants to do. At least this is one less thing he has to worry about.

This however results in instances of cults and all manner of people trying to summon the Ghost King for one reason or another. But instead they get one Dr Maddie Fenton.

Sometimes it’s some kids that were fooling around at a slumber party, and she warns them on the dangers of summoning unknown entities without doing proper throughout research before hand and ensuring they have the proper protective measures if something were to go wrong.

And then there are cults and magic users and everything in-between that are trying to summon the Ghost King for personal gain.

These individuals are more often than not met with the sight of a bazooka, pulled from seemingly thin air, aimed directly at them as the very ominous sound of the woman counting down echos in the air. The ones with half a brain would book it.

All of this while maintaining the midwestern politeness would be both hilarious and a little ominous.

Then one day the Justice League, or any of the other teams, are breaking up a cult ritual that they got wind of to summon a powerful being for the purpose of destroying something or someone. I’m not to fussed on their motives.

But just before they can stop it the summing is cast and the air is filled with such a heavy sense of forbidding that it makes the hairs on the back of one’s beck stand on end.

The room darkens, the shadows seemingly converging in the centre of the summoning circle. It feels hard to breathe, and there’s a hint of something other in the air around them that just keeps increasing in intensity. It feels like reality is being around them, and just as quickly as it all began a crack appears within the circle. And a toxic green (Lazarus green) glow seems out of it as it opens like the unhinging jaw of a predator. There’s a blinding flash of green and then there is a woman, judging by her build, in a teal spandex suit with goggles fastened on her face.

She scans the room in silence before her eyes falls on the heroes standing in defensive positions before her. The cultists are all tied up or knocked out, or just frozen in place because holy shit the summing worked.

It’s never worked before.

But who is this woman?

And where is the Ghost King?

The head cultist, whom was still yet to be detained, demands to know who she is and where is the Ghost King?!

Maddie smiles as she pulls out her Fenton bazooka and says, “Oh bless your heart, I am the Ghost King!”

Where this goes from here, I’m not sure. This was all I had when is tarted writing this and right now I’m too tired to think. I just hope someone likes it and if you do, feel free to add anything! And if you have any critiques feel free to tell me!

(My apologise if I leave out a chunk of information, I’m writing this in my pyjamas half asleep and just trying to get it all written down. Also I’m not from the US, and haven’t watched Danny Phantom in a hot minute, so if I got something wrong pls forgive me.)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #good parents Jack and Maddie #good Fenton parents #Maddie is the ghost king #ghostking!maddie #Danny phantom #Danny fenton #Maddie fenton #Jack fenton #justice league #teen titans #young justice #I’ve never written anything for dc x do so I hope this is good

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emiqip · 4 months ago

Text

Pt.3 Apocalyptic Ponyo AU ft. Shockwave and his... kids. @keferon

For all they've been through together, this had to be the dumbest thing they've ever done- which is saying something, considering not too many months ago they collectively decided to raid the city's garbage dump not taking into account that a) there would be some kind of security system (who defends trash anyway? weirdos) b) the smell and c) the local population of possums they inevitably bothered.

All in all, that could have even been considered a good day in Skywarp's book- yeah, they didn't find anything, they all smelled pretty fucking terrible without any way of washing the stench away and they were covered in bite marks, hoping none of those things had rabies- but they laughed and joked about it for weeks after.

This situation, however, was anything but funny.

Following Blue's little stunt, the remaining children left at base were informed to meet at the nearest shore, where the youngest's new... friend? Still waited for them. A few minutes of shock and surprise from both parties after, they finally decided on how to fix whatever this was. The plan was simple too: separate Blue from the sea freak, gather all of their stuff and set off to the sparkly horizon, leaving all of this behind their backs- no strings attached.

Obviously that would've been too good to be true, something had to go wrong: of course their youngest still refused to leave, even when Damus finally gained some courage and went over to pick Blue up by force- too bad the little menace immediately started ugly sobbing. Not only that, the twins got over their fear pretty quickly, replacing it with the raw force of curiosity little kids have for anything ugly, sticky and new. Cue Soundwave being assigned as their official babysitter lest the two would sprint and try to climb the fish like a pair of coked-up squirrels. And, yeah, not the smoothest outcome but hey! Now they could, you know, leave.

He was so so wrong. As soon as the Thing noticed they were walking away it started chirping at them over and over, like it was calling for them to get back. Kinda sad, but they could ignore it (unless you were Blue- still crying in TC's arms while making grabby hands at the mer), what alarmed them was the fact that it started to use all of its upper body strength and try to slowly beach itself in the goal of reaching their group. Needless to say the situation called for a new plan fast- even in ten, considering its size, they still weren't enough to push it back in to the water.

The solution was just to camp out on the shore and find a way out of this in the morning. To the absolute delight of their youngest, who decided that for the night he would be sleeping with the freak, and unsurprisingly the twins only followed by starting to poke and prod at the being, who seemed to enjoy the attention as much as them. Windcharger joined their little huddle too for the evening, explaining himself with a little shrug of his shoulders and a quick, "He's warm and I'm cold- you can freeze for one more night for all I care," and left it at that. That traitor.

Oh well, this would soon be over anyway.

\\\

Two. Weeks.

Two whole weeks passed since this whole charade was supposed to be over, but instead he found himself being ferried away on the wettest, most fucked up recreation of the 'Magic School Bus' he's ever seen. Worst of all Ms. Fizzle was replaced by an oversize pancake with gills.

This was supposed to be the closest thing to a compromise: the kids got to keep their fish and the others got a free ride trough the apocalypse- pretty sweet if you asked him.

They were slowly making their way towards what was once the busiest side of the city: he remembers coming here with his brothers and getting overwhelmed every time by the sheer amount of people bustling around. Both locals and tourists blended perfectly in a vortex of voices, faces and mannerisms. For a boy who lived at the edge, this was exhilarating.

But the best part of this chaos were the shops windows: there was one who was squeezed between a tiny flea shop and a bakery owned by a couple of kind old people- the window's space was taken by a plethora of several vintage televisions, each of them displaying something different- his favorite old show was filmed at their local aquarium and had as protagonist a young orca mer, chirping away happily at the camera, while the crowd gasped in awe at the adorable display.

He saw his face stare right back at him from the surface of the water. Tired eyes, sunken cheeks and hair grown matted and way too long- what would he do to reverse it all and go back to their shitty daily life.

From the front of their unusual mean of transportation, he could hear the youngest kids screaming and laughing, more likely pestering the mer like a swarm of particularly persistent flies. Being too focused on eavesdropping the racket, he didn't notice Damus approaching him on unsteady feet.

"I saw a billboard a few minutes ago: big bright and with the directions to the biggest mall in the city- I'd say we are overdue for a scavenger hunt to restock our resources, what do you say?" The older asked, before staring off into the distance.

"Sure, why the hell not? I'm pretty sick and tired of eating only fish anyway- cheers to the big guy for catching it for us though." He absentmindedly patted the mer, earning a pleased rumble up ahead.

With a brief nod of assent, he took off to most likely talk to Skids- the teen, after a very intense game of charades, managed to establish a method to communicate with their newest addition, he was even successful in teaching the fishman some very simple words, and in turn the mer taught him some of his language: it was mainly made up of sounds and gestures but Skids, being the fast learner that he was, took to them pretty quickly- a shame that he never had the chance to attend a public school, he would've at the top of his classes for sure.

He felt the mass he was sitting on stir briefly, as the massive mer changed the course of their journey. The scenery around them slowly changed: hills of crumbled and deformed buildings gave way to a forest of skyscrapers looming over all of them like giant concrete pillars. Since the wave hit, putting a stop to all human activity, nature was steadily taking over- vines descended from a top of buildings, patches of seaweed and sea flora were dotting the submerged asphalted streets.

They watched in awe as schools of brilliant colored tropical fish darted past them- he heard Blue squeal along the lines of, "Sir. Pancake! Look, it's you!" when a familiar looking shark swam past them. He could vaguely recognize some of the roads and alleyways, now nearly completely covered by corals and anemones, housing a variety of oceanic wildlife.

Despite everything, there was still beauty left in this abandoned world.

\\\

The dark gaping maw leading inside the mall stared right back at them. Having no way to access the lower levels, since they were long lost under the waves, they had to find another way in- one of the walls had luckily given away to the erosion of the water, leaving the perfect entry point for them and their fishy companion. They were all well aware the mer wasn't too keen on leaving them alone for too long without becoming restless, so this was a win-win situation.

As the shadows progressively engulfed them, the smell of dampness and mold welcomed them inside. He felt TC's hand grabbing his right sleeve to catch his attention, as he turned around he saw his brother pointing at the water with his mouth agape.

What he saw made him inhale quickly in complete surprise- a pool of neon blue light surrounded them from all sides, swaying gently at the rhythm of the mer's movements.

"...bioluminescent algae- read about them once, but I never thought I would ever see them for myself." He heard TC whisper softly at him.

"Woah, this is so fucking cool..." Soft murmurs of assent from his siblings filled the silence he left behind, as they all watched the water entranced by the spectacle of lights.

They were all suddenly woken up from their trance by a brisk movement from their means of transport that almost made all of them topple over into the water. Apparently 'Sides decided he wanted to touch the pretty blue lights, nearly taking a dip for himself if the mer didn't glance over and quickly caught the little kid with one of his huge webbed hands. At least the pest had the decency to look away sheepishly at the mer's silent but admonishing expression.

Without any other close calls, they made it to what was once the food court- a huge circular dome where the pavement had partially collapsed, leaving behind a slope where dry land and water could meet, the perfect place to finally get down and stretch their legs after hours of swimming around. Trailbreaker reached into his ridiculously big backpack and started passing around a bunch of flashlights- the teen liked to be prepared for anything, even if that meant bringing around some additional weight.

The moment his feet met the ground he let out a happy sigh- exploring the sunken city was great and all, but nothing could compare to the chance of finally burning all of his residual energy. Damus clapped his hands to get everyone's attention and started his usual spiel before any resource-gathering trip.

"Alright everyone, you know the drill: six of us are going in pair to explore the building- pick up only things you think will come in hand, leave everything else. Do not take more then you need, we are not the only survivors around, so let's not doom other people only because we felt a little bit greedy today. See something? Scream. Lastly, the brats stay here with Sir. Pancake, while one of us will also remain to keep watch- can I have a drum roll for our lucky winner?" The question was met with an enthusiastic chorus of voices.

"Aand- Trailbreaker you're up!"

"Awh man- what?" The teen sagged his shoulders as Windcharger smugly patted his arm.

"Look at the bright side dude: you'll have fish-dad helping you this time."

"Not helpin' Charger, kudos for trying though..." Trailbreaker's muffled response came from behind his hands, as the other kid only shrugged and joined Skids to prepare for departure.

In the meantime, Skywarp gingerly hooked his right arm with TC's, leading him towards one of the halls connected to the dome. From the ceiling stray cables and crumbled pieces of drywall dangled freely, occasionally disturbed by a gentle breeze coming from inside the hallway. He gave himself a few seconds to glance behind his back: the children, in the few minutes they arrived, had apparently started their very own game of tag, skidding away on the wet floor, completely unbothered by what was happening around them. Trailbreaker, accepting his fate, decided to use this time to clean the barrel of his shotgun, while sitting on the floor with his back leaning on the mer's arm.

The creature however was looking apprehensively at them: worry and fret swirled in his blue eyes- they all knew he didn't like to see them leave, but this was necessary. He absentmindedly threw him his best calming smile, hoping to reassure him enough. The mer was briefly taken by surprise before nodding and giving Skywarp a hasty nod.

'I trust you.'

"Good luck everyone! If you're not back in an hour we'll come find your sorry asses, so be on time- I'm talking to you Skids!" Damus voice bounced on the walls of the abandoned building.

"...you get lost one time-" The cut-off whispered replay of his sibling was the last thing he heard before entering the hall with TC in tow.

\\\

Their wet footfalls was the only noise filling in the utter silence around them.

The bright beams of their flashlights cutting through the thick wall of darkness. Now that he had the chance to look at it up close, he could pinpoint exactly when life had come to a stop between these molded walls: on tiny cafe tables sat long forgotten coffee stained cups, the occasional eerily empty stroller was abandoned haphazardly in the middle of the hallway, still pale mannequins were silent witnesses to the disaster, while purses and toys littered the floors. Moments frozen in time.

He felt himself shudder, trying to shake off the feeling of wrongness from his shoulders.

So far they found only a couple of useful things, mainly industrial tape, iron wire and other items from a hardware store they had just raided. All the possibly edible things they dug up have all been either completely or partially covered in mold- all of this moisture made it difficult for things to stay fresh, especially since electricity had been one of the first things they'd lost to the massive wave, completely cutting off all of power to fridges.

Hopefully the others had been more lucky, he really wasn't looking forward to another overcooked sardine- none of them had always been the greatest cook after all and he doubted Sir. Pancake knew his way around a stove. Great now he was thinking about the mer holding a comically small pan, while wearing a pink frilly apron with the words 'Kiss The Fish' printed on the front-

He was interrupted mid-giggle by TC's pointy elbow digging into his side- which he was about to comment on before his brother nudged him again, signaling with his light to something on the wall.

"Storage Room." Read his sibling aloud, with a knowing smile.

"Fucking jackpot, baby!" Skywarp blurred out- ooh the joy he'll feel when they'll be able to shove in their losers sibling faces a box full of protein bars.

A wide new hallway opened up for them, at the end of it he could discern the top of a pair of rusted shut down automatic stairs. They eagerly hurried down them, impatience and hunger for discovery was eating away at them- before diving waist deep into a pool of freezing water.

They both startled for a few seconds, and then realization hit. They both forgot the lower levels were entirely flooded, but thankfully water didn't seem too high from what they could see through the darkness- hopefully the floor was built on the same level and didn't suddenly dip under them. The water was way too murky to see what was happening under the surface, and that did nothing to appease the apprehension this place was giving off in waves- he suddenly felt the shivers he shrugged off return in full force.

"Thunders, not gonna lie, I have a bad feeling about this." His whisper echoed on the walls enclosing them.

"Yeah... I feel like there's something we're missing." The other confessed, as they slowly trudged forward. "It's been scratching my brain since we passed that cafè...".

"Right?! I feel the same... all that chaos and we only find a bunch of litter on the floor-"

Thundercracker stopped abruptly in his path, making him stop too.

"Uh- TC, you okay?" He lifted his torch to better look at his brother.

"...the corpses."

"Oh! Yeah, this was a very busy place, how come we haven't found... any... corpses..."

One of the worst mistakes humanity ever made, was to think that they had any chance at being on top of the food chain. Centuries of time spent spreading and conquering all known continents, had led them to believe that nothing could touch them if they hid behind their big wars and even bigger weapons. However, Hubris is the first deadly sin, condemned to be a human's last.

From the void, a pair of bulging white eyes stared back at him. A gaping maw full of jagged yellowed teeth, was framed by two lines of receding gums barely attached to the skull. Ivory white plaques covered a shiny metal body underneath, decorating a lizard-like muscular frame, still as stone- like a spring ready to be released.

They were moving even before his brain could catch up with him. Fight or flight on full force- his main goal was to get away and do it fast.

Thundercracker quickly followed him, as he felt the large creature pounce towards them.

Climbing the stairs and reaching the top almost slipping down and falling on his brother.

They sprinted down the hall- heavy footsteps never too far behind as the beast snapped his monstrous jaws, trying to catch them.

Blurs of the coffee shop and hardware store passed next to them, as realization hit him once more- they were bringing a human-eating mutant right to their little brothers.

'See something? Scream.'

And screaming he did.

His alarmed voice filled the dome as in a moment of distraction his foot slipped on a nearby puddle, leaving him to fall face first unto the hard ground- hopefully his little siblings where not stupid enough to try and come help him.

He knew this was coming.

A hot breeze hit the back of his head, as the stench of death reached his nostrils. The heavy weight of a massive clawed paw, pressed him flat on the floor, painfully crushing his chest. He wanted to say he had been brave enough to face his fate, but instead he hid his face inside the crook of his elbow, heaving a last breath verging on a whimper- he only wanted to help his family, and this is how he died, it felt a bit like deja-vu...

Too busy giving thought to his adrenaline infused rants, he didn't immediately feel the crushing weight being suddenly lifted off of him- a giant wall of muscle and pure unbridled fury, tackled the beast into the other side of the room. A low guttural threatening growl woke him up from his stupor and he was on his feet in seconds- the now enraged mer stood between Skywarp and the monster.

The teen almost didn't recognize him, a completely mirrored image of the usually peaceful creature- what was once a beacon of gentleness, who always moved like he knew he could easily hurt any of them, oh so very careful of his size and strength- now gave away to a terrifying predator, claws and fangs fully on display and ready to use.

The mutant pounced once again, now his attention taken solely by the mer, who in tow used his massive tail to spring forward and grab the monster by the tail- hastily pulling it towards the water where he could've a clear advantage.

Too focused on the feral brawl, he didn't hear Damus' muffled voice calling him through the static ringing in his ears.

"-warp, we need to move! Shit, Skywarp move your ass, goddamnit!" A hand forcefully grabbed his left arm, before he was pulled to his unsteady feet. The front of his shirt was snatched and he felt himself move and duck behind a nearby counter- his eyes never leaving the fight.

If this thing was anything else, now it would be long dead- but unfortunately genetics were on its side. The ivory armor covering its body made for an impenetrable defense- meaning, it was not only built to hunt things smaller than itself, but also to wear out bigger predators and use twist their tiredness on them to deal the final blow.

"...he's not going to make it."

"Uh? What are you talking ab-?"

"He'll lose- WE HAVE TO HELP HIM!"

A still out-of-breath Thundercracker slowly approached him with his hands held up, like he was placating a wild animal and not his own brother.

"Warp, please be reasonable- What chance do we have against that thing? Bullets will not work and we can't risk hitting our only ally against it, we shou-"

"What? Run? I'm not going to save my ass while someone else is going to die- you're not making me give him the Smokey treatment, no chance in hell."

Only the sound of the background fight remained, as a mournful silence descended upon them. That name was bound to stir flashes of awful memories in all of them- the darkest times since the beginning of their broken little family. Their missing piece, forever lost.

"...what's the plan?" The trembling voice of their youngest broke the silence.

Skywarp drew in a ragged breath as he blurred out their only chance for all of them to get out of this alive.

"Metal! The- that thing's body is made of metal underneath, if we can find a way to electrocute it, its own body is going to act as a super-conduct and fry it's organs from the inside out."

"Me and 'Charger found a small generator not too far from here, I think we can use it," Skid's chimed in from the back of their little huddle, "we attach some cables on it and pinch that thing- than boom fried fish."

With a plan in mind they all moved like a bunch of frenzied rats. Windcharger and Skids ran to fetch the generator, while Soundwave followed them in case they needed to jump-start it. The kids were ordered to stay put and not engage, as the others watched the fight, waiting for their time to strike.

But as they took in every detail of what was happening, it was clear they had run out of time. The mer was clearly using the last of his energies to just keep the thing still- deep bleeding wounds littered his frame, one of his eyes was closed off by a cut that run at the center of his face, as he gasped for breath- eye dazed and a shaky pupil stared at his enemy.

He registered his siblings returning with the small generator, but he was quick to snatch the cables attached to it from Soundwaves' hands.

"We don't have time- I'm going to do something crazy, but it'll be fine!" He cried out, ignoring his siblings' shouted protests- metal was not the only super-conduct present in the dome.

As he skidded to a stop and knelt near the water, he felt time slow down. He watched as the mutant freed itself and in a few seconds snapped its mouth on the mer's side, trying to rip off a large chunk of meat. The mer let out a haunting pain-filled cry, as he desperately used his last energies to claw at the mutants' skull, in hopes of getting it to let go.

Skywarp had to act now.

Before he plucked the sparkling cables into the pool, he glanced once more not expecting to lock eye with the blue one of the mer- illuminated by the blue hue of the algae, covered in gaping wounds and suffering immense pain, was smiling at him- one of those familial calming smiles that he became used to on a daily basis, since their crazy companionship began.

'I trust you.'

Those same eyes that were looking at him with only fondness, suddenly became bloodshot as an immense wave of energy traveled through his frame in a matter of seconds. Skywarp felt his, now free, hands tremble with adrenaline as they all watched their guardian being electrocuted- and with him the beast.

What had been merely moments, felt like hours.

They won.

The limp body of the beast slowly sunk into the depths dragged by it's own heavy body, as the victor stood tall in the middle of the dome. Water fell from his broad back in droplets, a deep purple hue cloaked him from underneath- the algae, who soon changed color after being hit by the wave of electricity. The mer red blood-shot eye never left his gaze as he held the other half of his face, covering his wounded eye with a clawed hand.

Skywarp and his brothers watched as their guardian's form eventually staggered and swayed, until his worn body hit the shore with a shuddering thud. A keening sound left the mer's mouth as his body convulsed a couple of times, before finally settling into a fetal position.

A small blur rounded the counter he left behind his shoulders- Blue sprinted towards the now still body of the mer, halting himself near his head before hugging it as best as he could.

"Get up... please, you have to get up- I don't want to leave you here," A sob escaped the little kid as he gently pushed at the mer's cheek, "please Sir.Panca- Dad, get up..."

Slowly they all began to huddle around the still-breathing, even if ragged, body of their guardian- the mer shuddered as he gently lifted his head to nudge soothingly at his youngest. He looked over all of them, as if to assure himself that nobody was injured, until he locked eyes with Skywarp once again. The mer cooed, lifting his hand to beckon him to come closer.

The teen got up on unsteady legs and made his way toward his guardian, collapsing into the crook of his massive neck. As a clawed hand started caressing his back, he found it so difficult to hold in his tears.

"I'm sorry- this is all my fault," he wailed, "and now you're hurt and- and I did this to you... when you've been nothing but gentle and patient with us from the beginning... some fucking friend I am."

"...hurt?" He was taken by surprise as the mer spoke to him- a thick warped accented voice.

"What? No, you big dummie- I'm not hurt..."

His guardian had the gull to smile down at him- the huge fucking sap. He couldn't help but smile in tow as he felt Bluestreak join their little hug, and settle himself down to nap away the residual adrenaline.

He watched as his siblings sat all around them- weapons in hand, standing on guard and silently daring anything or anyone to attack their guardian.

Yeah, he was not ready for this to end just yet.

#apocalyptic ponyo #transformers #hope you bulletproofed for this one #i would lie if i said that i was sorry for writing this as im an unstoppable agent of chaos thriving on peoples sorrows #silly fish and his silly kids </3 #ngl i cried gang #hope you enjoyed!!

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wooahaes · 11 months ago

Text

svt - whatever you say, beautiful

pairing: non-idol!svt x gn!reader

prompt: i'm not arguing with a man who has big brown eyes. whatever you say, beautiful.

warnings: established relationship aus. food and alcohol mentions. jeonghan and reader lovingly calling each other 'ugly' like an old married couple. 96z roommates au (jun). soonyoung's terrible mayo-ketchup concoction (jun). reader gets called beautiful back (jun, soonyoung). friends -> lovers (jun, soonyoung, jihoon). bickering as a love language (minghao, seungkwan). sexual implications from a third party (chan telling seungkwan to let him know if he needs to put headphones on or leave).

daisy's notes: i wrote that vernon drabble and gave myself brainrot. also on jeonghan's: ik there's cultures that do this lol but for those unaware: pls don't take it as a serious thing haha its meant to be akin to calling someone silly or goofy. i just think it gives old married couple energy to be like 'you're a nuisance but you're my nuisance and i adore you wholeheartedly.' like seungkwan tells them: just tie the knot if they want to, because they already act like they've been married for seventy years.

choi seungcheol

seungcheol was sprawled out in your bed, blanket securely tucked around him while he scrolled through his phone. sleepovers, at this stage in your relationship, weren't exactly uncommon... but the giddiness still hadn't worn off. the two of you didn't intend on moving in together for at least another year, both of you enjoying living on your own for right now after so, so much time of living with other people. still... that would never stop you from enjoying the sight of your beloved in your bed, ready for sleep, and winding down by checking his social media for the second or third time today.

until you saw him stop. he furrowed his brow, that handsome face completely perplexed. and you fought back a grin, because you knew exactly what was confusing him.

today the two of you decided to publicly reveal your relationship to more than just immediate family and very very close friends. seungcheol had been thrilled over it: he'd always been wanting to show you off since you started dating. but when you asked for a little time, he didn't fight: he just met you where you were. and now that everyone knows...

"what is this?"

he turned his phone to face you, giving you full view of the caption you lovingly wrote out. it sat underneath a collection of pictures, some taken by you, others by him, and one taken by one of his close friends in preparation of this special day... and, of course, it was a silly little joke.

i'm not arguing with my man and his big brown eyes. whatever you say, beautiful. ❤️

you snickered, crawling into bed next to him. "what's wrong with it?"

"nothing!" but he was pouting, and you knew what was coming next. "did you see my post?" he was already moving to pull it up, as though you hadn't read and re-read it a million times while he was in the shower.

so you decided to torment him. just a little bit. "you don't like it...?" you frowned, putting on your best 'kicked puppy' look.

"i do like it!" he was quick to try and assuage your worries. he turned over so that he could face you. "but... when we decided to tell everyone, i thought you wouldn't post a meme as the caption."

"so you hate it." you crossed your arms, pouting as hard as you could muster.

"i don't hate it! i didn't say--i didn't mean that, i just--" he looked up, watching you for longer than a few seconds. then he snorted, hand resting over his heart for a minute. "you're going to be the death of me."

with a snort, you crawled closer to him, all but dragging him up so that you could kiss him. "you know you're the normal one here."

he giggled, capturing your lips in another quick peck. "maybe i am," he said. "... i do like it, though. just warn me next time."

yoon jeonghan

joshua (hannie's coworker): [IMAGE.JPEG]

joshua (hannie's coworker): can you come get him he's bickering with seungkwan rn

joshua (hannie's coworker): (it's mostly seungkwan bickering but jeonghan is actually fighting back a little)

joshua (hannie's coworker): (it's literally over who's paying for chan's birthday dinner. cheol literally picked up the check half an hour ago right after they started.)

you: omw. also idk how seungkwan does it. i'm not arguing with a man with big brown eyes. whatever you say, beautiful.

the moment you pulled up outside the restaurant, you should have known exactly why jeonghan was grinning at you. he waved from the sidewalk, turning back to his friends to talk just a bit longer. he didn't move, which... on most days, you wouldn't care. but it was late, and you had work in the morning, and (according to joshua) they just spent the past few hours just chatting after their meal. five minutes melted into ten, and then into twenty...

and so you rolled down your window, yelling out a 'happy birthday!' to chan that finally got jeonghan's attention. another grin, and that was enough to tell you that he'd been waiting for that. he wouldn't do it for everyone, but chan? you knew their friendship was different. he hugged the guy one last time, and then made his way over to the car, climbing into the passenger seat. with a final wave to his friends, you pulled back onto the road, and started the journey home.

"so... you really think my eyes are beautiful?"

ah. that was the other reason the fucker wouldn't stop grinning at you. of course it couldn't just be one thing with jeonghan.

"you think i'm beautiful?" he watched you with this knowing smile, as though the two of you hadn't been dating for years now. as though you hadn't drunkenly confessed it before. "i'm starting to think you actually like me."

"you're just now realizing that?" you flicked on your blinker, coasting into the turn lane. "do you think i'd be living with you if i didn't?"

"you never call me beautiful to my face anymore, you know," he said, reaching for your bottle of water. without a care, he uncapped it, taking a long sip from it. "you just call me 'ugly' whenever you call me something."

that was far from true, to be fair: he was your love, your baby, your honey... and he was 'ugly' when you were particularly affectionate. "i have to keep you humble, ugly. you already know how beautiful you are."

his eyes twinkled a little as he looked at you, that fond smile telling you all you needed to know. "i know, ugly." he'd never been afraid to throw the word back at you, and you hoped that the tiny thrill it brought you never died.

no wonder seungkwan once said the two of you should go ahead and tie the knot. "you already act like it," he'd said, side-eyeing the two of you before taking a long sip of whatever coffee-flavor-of-the-day he'd picked out.

he reached over, prodding your cheek. when you glanced over, just enough to let him know you were listening, he just leaned against the center console with this handsome smile he reserved for you. "i love you."

and maybe he was a little drunk. just a little. but you let him have this one. "i love you, too, handsome."

joshua hong

"am i not worth the effort?" joshua couldn't even fight his playful grin now, his phone in his hand. "you couldn't even come up with an original post for our anniversary?"

with a roll of your eyes, you glanced back over his own post for a moment, pausing your search for movie snacks. he'd written out this long, sappy love letter to you about how he wanted to spend the rest of his life alongside you. it was sweet, and a little silly when he recounted the embarrassing story of how the two of you realized your feelings for one another (all it took was one spilled milkshake, courtesy of jeonghan), but overall a very public display of his adoration toward you. the picture-perfect, romance novel act of love from your boyfriend.

in other words: he was hamming it up so that people would gush over how he was the most adoring boyfriend, and how lucky you two were to have one another based on everything he said. in reality, he was literally eating your snacks right now. and later that night, he'd put his cold feet on you and then laugh over it.

"uh-huh." you continued searching through the cabinets after pocketing your phone. "should i have told everyone about how you somehow always manage to eat the last poptart in the box, even though you straight up told me that you keep count just so you can tease me over it?" you tossed an empty box into the bin, making a mental note to add them to the list. "or the time you literally ate all of my fries when we were on that road trip?"

"you're never gonna let me live that one down, are you?"

"didn't mention how god awful your workout clothes stink, either." you grimaced at the memory alone. "seriously, dude, how fucking hard do you go?"

"i forgot to wash them twice!" he turned around on the couch. "all because i said i thought it was cute when you mumble in your sleep and keep me up all night--"

"listen. i'm just doing damage control for you, hong," you pulled down a bag of chips, carefully rolled and clipped to keep them fresh. making your way back over, you continued, "really, you should be hiring me. i called you beautiful and mentioned those big brown bambi eyes." you threw yourself down next to him, bag crinkling as you unrolled it. you held up the first chip, an offering to him that he leaned over to take. "i think i deserve payment for it all."

but he grinned at you, settling back in. "i'll think about it. i'll get the big box of poptarts next time," he poked your side, just hard enough to get you to move off of his blanket, and then drew you right back in once he could throw it over you. "and i'll let you pick the first movie."

with a roll of your eyes, you reached for the controller. "what a gentleman."

wen junhui

your life was truly, sincerely, over. this was it. this was the big one. the big fuck-up that would kill you from embarrassment alone. if you were a sim in the sims 4, little sim jihoon would be sobbing over your body right now as the grim reaper came to take you away.

instead, he was just stiffling his laughter, patting the top of your head as you bury your face in a pillow. "it's not that bad."

"it's terrible! i was only posting that picture because we looked good!" you jerked up, staring at him. "and--and jun liked it! did he not read the caption?!"

"oh, he read it," soonyoung was doing something unholy in the kitchen, from the sounds of the ketchup bottle being opened alongside the smell of mayo. not another thing to ruin your day. "he's on his way home, by the way."

yep, this was how you died. surrounded by two of your roommates and being confronted by the guy you've had feelings for for... fuck, how long had you known him? since college? he'd been there for you after a particularly nasty breakup not long after the two of you met, and that was when your stupid heart fell for him. you'd always pushed back against it: it wasn't the right time. he was dating someone at one point. he wouldn't like you back. but the more the two of you started spending time alone, the deeper you fell.

"have you thought about just telling him how you feel?" jihoon asked, stealing your pillow and hugging it against his chest. "i know it's scary, but i don't think it'd go badly."

soonyoung looked over, condiments smeared on the outsides of his mouth as he chewed. he swallowed, wiping his face with a paper towel as he spoke, "even if he didn't like you, he'd let you down easily."

"soonyoung!" jihoon turned to face him. you rarely saw jihoon mad, but this had to be the closest.

soonyoung realized what he said. and immediately took off, shutting himself back into his room as jihoon raced to encounter him first. while he tried to jostle the door open, the yelling faded into background noise.

jun... what?

the apartment door opened after a while, wonwoo standing there with jun right behind him. without hesitating, you hopped up off of the couch, immediately excusing yourself as you went to hide in your own room. jun called after you, and you just shut the door behind you, face in your hands. this could not be happening. this wasn't happening. if soonyoung was telling the truth, and, because jihoon yelled at him, he definitely was... what now?

jun knocked on your door. everything outside of your room was silent now. if jihoon was chewing out soonyoung, you'd probably hear some of it. yet... quiet. peaceful quiet that you weren't exactly used to with this bunch.

"can we talk?" he spoke up after a moment. "i don't exactly get the caption, but... do you really think i have beautiful eyes?"

oh. he had no idea it was some meme you'd seen online that always reminded you of him. yet the gentle way he'd asked made your heart flutter all the same. you said nothing, just sitting with your back against the door.

"it's okay if you do." you could hear the sound of him moving, and slowly, it sounded as though he was sitting, too. "i... i think you have pretty eyes, too." was it possible to hear his uneasy smile in the way his voice shook just a little, his nerves so, so evident? "the others left, by the way. so we could talk. wonwoo was confused, but jihoon dragged both him and soonyoung out for a walk."

that answered one question, at least. again, you just said nothing, curling up as tight as you could. your heart hammered in your ears, and you shut your eyes. was this really happening?

"i've liked you for a long time," he said, voice just as gentle as it was before. like he, too, was scared of what this all meant. the two of you were crossing a line you never thought you'd even tread near, let alone vault over. "it's okay if you don't feel the exact same way. but... you're sweet. and i--"

you bit the bullet. you got up, opening your door to see jun turning to face you. he'd been sitting there, back against the door, talking to the air while you'd been too scared to face him. he stood up as quickly as he could, watching you carefully.

he was the one who spoke first. "hi."

"hi." you said it back, heart racing. "i think you're beautiful."

and oh-so-shyly he smiled back at you. "i... think you're beautiful, too."

maybe this would be the start of something good.

kwon soonyoung

with your eyes screwed shut, you knew that seungcheol was going to give you so, so much shit about this when you told him. knowing your luck, it was going to go horribly, and you'd probably die right here and it'd be your ghost haunting seungcheol... but that was something you could deal with.

yet the moment 'tiger kwon' popped up on your phone, you knew you couldn't avoid this forever. you'd pester soonyoung later for changing his name in your phone again. for now, you just answered the request for a video call, and you were met with those pretty eyes staring at you in the low light.

"hi." he giggled. "i don't think that text was meant for me."

astute observation, considering the first three messages before you gushed about his eyes and called him beautiful were "FUCK" and "CHEOL I CAN'T DO THIS" and then a picture of the two of you from when you grabbed dinner together earlier. you expressed your romantic frustrations in the only way you knew how: a screenshot you'd seen of someone's tweet. the same thing you'd said to seungcheol many, many times before.

"so what does that even mean?" he's grinning, and you knew that it's half-genuine. he was smart enough to get the gist of it (to put it simply: you were, as you'd been told, down bad) but you weren't sure how often soonyoung saw memes like this. he was watching your face, those cute eyes shining with the light from his phone screen, and he rolled onto his stomach. "when did you get worse at technology than me?"

was this what confessing to soonyoung would bring? a lifetime of having a cute man tease you oh-so-lovingly?

"are you alive?"

you managed to squeak out a deeply embarrassed, "yep."

he just giggled, head resting on his hand. "do you text seungcheol like that a lot?" he waited. and when you didn't answer, too embarrassed to speak, he continued on, "i think he and jihoon trade war stories, then. jihoon..." his cheeks were dusted red. "jihoon hears a lot about you."

holy fuck. your stomach was doing flips. "soonyoung?"

"this is embarrassing, isn't it?" he chuckled, eyes focusing on his screen again. "jihoon said it's some sort of joke. vernon showed it to him once. but... i think you're beautiful, too."

truly, this man would be the death of you if he kept smiling at you like that. like you were his world already, eyes shiny and cheeks red.

"i..." your mouth felt dry. "can we... maybe... a date?" something about seeing his face right now made your mind go blank.

he chuckled. "i'm free this weekend," he said, still smiling. "we'll talk tomorrow morning. okay?"

"okay." you licked your lips, just trying to come down from this high. "goodnight."

the moment he ended the call, you were texting seungcheol: LET'S FUCKING GO GOT A DATE W SOONYOUNG!!!

and in return, he sent you three words: about fucking time.

jeon wonwoo

people always warned you about marrying the love of your life. the honeymoon period was something strong, that tinted your days with sugary kisses and honeyed skies until it all dissolved when reality washed back over the two of you. yet you had been married to wonwoo for two years now, and that sweetness never seemed to melt from your lives. the honeymoon period was over, yes, but the work you put into your relationship kept things lively. arguments came and went, and you always found yourself enamored with the man who guarded your heart in the same way you guarded his.

that was why anniversaries were special. not because they were another milestone, another celebration of a year the two of you made together... but an excuse to gush about wonwoo. you kept it to two days in particular: your wedding anniversary, and his birthday, both dates set months apart. wonwoo was different than you, however: he didn't want to broadcast his feelings for the world to see. he reserved all the sweet things for words he physically wrote down for you to read, or as things he said to you outright when he was sappy enough.

and you? well... he knew your true feelings would never be one-hundred-percent out there. those were reserved for him. but if you wanted to gush about how much you loved him, then who was he to stop you?

he'd been scrolling through his instagram feed that night while brushing his teeth, only to snort when he finished reading your post. the duality of your relationship was beautiful: he'd posted a short, sweet caption for you underneath a lovely quote from a book the two of you loved. and you had gushed... and finished it off with a meme that you sent to him the moment you saw it. i'm not arguing with a man who has big brown eyes. whatever you say, beautiful. the same words you teased him with when you were in a particularly playful mood.

so when he returned to you, he just crawled into bed, pressing kisses against your face. his affectionate moods would always take you by surprise, and he was glad for that. it spiced up the relationship just a little that he was still able to surprise you after all this time.

"you're so cute," he curled up with you, pulling you into his arms. "happy anniversary. i love you."

you snorted a little. "i see you've noticed."

"should i have read it sooner?"

you waved him off, "no, no... i'm glad you didn't see it until now. check the comments when you get the chance. a bunch of your friends loved it."

he was sure that they did. they all seemed to adore the duality of the two of you more than he did. the quiet, studious wonwoo and his silly love who made him laugh more than anyone else. but he knew as well as you did: no one would love your dynamic more than the two of you did.

he was your home, just as you had become his.

lee jihoon

all jihoon wanted to do was ask if you wanted to go to dinner. he'd suggested a place, you'd suggested another, and he mentioned not wanting that kind of cuisine... only for the words to appear on his phone within the next few minutes: i'm not arguing with a man who has big brown eyes. whatever you say, beautiful.

... beautiful?

"soonyoung!" he yelled out for one of his housemates. if he wasn't here, then seungcheol would come in. yet he heard the sound of footsteps quickly approaching, soonyoung sliding against the wooden floor a little as he looked in. "read this."

so he did. he read it once, and then again before looking up. "... they're flirting with you, i think."

"that's weird, right?" jihoon looked up. "they don't like me back."

"how do you know that?" soonyoung grinned, leaning against the empty doorframe. "you don't know that. they're hitting on you. shoot your shot."

"i'm not going to--"

his phone started to ring. he looked down, wide-eyed, as he realized you started to call him. before he could debate denying the call and pretending the text never came, soonyoung bolted forward, answering it before immediately leaving his room. the little shit--

"oh my god," you said, "i'm so, so fucking sorry--mingyu's here and i was trying to look up other places to eat on my laptop, and he had the bright idea to text you that shit. i left my phone alone for one minute, and this is what happened--"

"why would he text me that?" jihoon could feel his heart begin to hammer in his chest. why would mingyu tease him like that? mingyu knew that you were off limits when it came to this kind of thing. unless...

"i--well, i--" you stammered, all sentences melting in your mouth before you finally let out a long sigh. in the background, he could hear mingyu begin to laugh. "shut up!" and then the sound of a door slamming behind you. "fucking--" you let out a sigh. "sorry. made the mistake of putting you on speaker."

"that's okay." jihoon leaned against the back of the chair. "but my question...?"

with another sigh, he could hear you settle into something. a chair, a couch--he wasn't sure. "this isn't how i wanted this to go... but... i like you. and i guess mingyu's had enough of hearing about it. it's okay if you don't feel the same, but... that's all."

quiet. neither of you moved to speak, to pitch another restaurant to go to. jihoon opened a new tab on his browser, already typing in a new search for the best places to take a first date.

"jihoon?"

no point in not taking the leap now. you'd already taken the first step: he could do the next one. "can... can tonight be our first date, then? instead of us getting dinner as friends."

quiet.

"jihoon..." your voice was soft. "i'd love that."

note to self: thank mingyu.

xu minghao

"what does this mean?" minghao looked up from his phone, where you could clearly see the post you'd made earlier. it was a combination of candids and the actual pretty pictures you'd taken of him, all captioned with a joke. he began typing something out, "we bickered about toast this morning."

"oh my god, hao--"

then your phone buzzed. you looked down, and there it was: minghao calling you out on your own damn post. when you looked up from your phone, he just had that stupid smug grin on his face. he crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair as he waited for you to defend yourself.

"it's a joke. it's a meme. maybe you should learn them, old man."

he rolled his eyes. "it's a lie and i'm not standing for it. everyone knows that we argue about everything."

even before the two of you started dating, you'd bicker about the smallest things. none of it was ever serious--the two of you had only fought a handful of times in the entirety of knowing one another--but you remembered the annoyed look you would get sometimes. just go make out already had been what his friends would say. eventually, it turned into mingyu telling minghao to go ahead and give you the marriage papers already. the two of you were in it for life, weren't you?

which, ultimately, turned into you and minghao bickering about that, too. the two of you hadn't even been dating at the time, but you would both be lying if you said that conversation hadn't made the two of you figure out your feelings. you'd retorted that minghao wouldn't get along with your parents like that, leading to him actively calling them to prove that, yes, in fact, he would.

(you would simply never live down both of them going "he isn't your boyfriend? we were waiting for you to be ready to tell us," and the subsequent call where your mother chewed you out for hanging up on her right after.)

"we don't argue about everything."

minghao gave you a pointed look. "strawberry jam."

you pinched the bridge of your nose. "not this shit again. i thought we agreed that butter is--"

... fuck, he was proving his point.

"fine," you said. "we bicker a lot. doesn't mean i can't lie via meme."

he just smiled, happy to have won whatever little argument this almost turned into. "everyone knows this is our love language," he said, head resting in his hand. "but fine. you can lie through your memes."

and thus he put the two of you on equal grounds once again: a truce, in a sense. just like most of your little debates ended in.

kim mingyu

"you know you could just call me pretty if you wanted to."

your face burned at the way mingyu was giggling now. all you did was text him a meme (yes, from the other end of the couch) and wait for his response. he'd read it under his breath before bursting into giggles, so, so enamored with the way that you were. he always had been: mingyu, unlike you, wasn't shy when it came to his affection. he complimented you constantly on anything and everything, whether it be your appearance or the way you rambled to him or the way you clammed up "all cutely embarrassed" (his words, not yours) when you realized just how much you said. you told him once that you weren't the most open about your feelings or the loudest.

and he'd merely kissed your forehead and said that was okay. he was loud enough for the both of you. if loving him quietly meant that you loved him, then that was all that mattered to him.

you whined his name at him, trying to hide your face. you knew that you always would get this doe-eyed, dreamy look on your face whenever he teased you like this. you caught a glimpse of it in a mirror once when you were at a store buying furniture, and swore to yourself you'd never let him catch you like this so obviously ever again.

of course, that was moot because mingyu saw that sappy look on your face and treasured it every time... but for your own sake, you couldn't let him notice.

yet he laughed anyway, crawling over to pull your hands away from your face. "i mean it!" he squished your cheeks, "just call me pretty next time. that's what you wanted to say, right?"

you pushed his hands away from your face, just so that you could speak clearly. "i think you have pretty eyes."

his smile dropped, eyes going wide. and he slowly pulled away, face turning redder by the second as he turned from you. "you can't just say it like that! i wasn't prepared!"

you felt a little bold this time. "whatever you say, beautiful--"

the groan that mingyu let out, fully flustered by you now, only made you feel more confident in teasing him. no wonder his friends loved to pick on him... he was so cute about it.

lee seokmin

the minute you finished saying it, seokmin had burst into giggles. all because you wanted to jokingly flirt with your beloved and see his reaction. he had looked up from his phone, where he'd been idly googling to find dinner options, and then you could see those gears turning before he started laughing.

"really?" he reached over, drawing you into his arms. "so you won't argue with me tonight?" seokmin squished your cheeks to pucker your lips, planting an loud kiss against them. "all because you think i'm beautiful?"

you just fought back a laugh, reaching up to toy with the hair at the base of his neck. "whatever you want, beautiful."

another giggle burst past his lips, and he dropped one hand down, sliding it up your thigh. "do you mean it? or are you just flirting with me?" he gently squeezed your thigh, just a little. "you don't have to flirt with me like that. i'm already yours."

ever the romantic. you drew him in for another quick kiss, soflty laughing against his lips. "gotta keep you here somehow," you teased. "it's hard to compete with you when you're mister perfect."

his nose brushed against your own. "i think you keep up just fine." he paused, drumming his fingers against the outside of your thigh idly. "can i confess something?"

you watched him curiously. "huh?"

"your best friend..." his hand slid up to your hip before he loosely draped his arms around your waist. "when we got together, they messaged me to tell me you talk about my eyes a lot."

oh no. "you know you have pretty eyes--"

"like a baby seal." he giggled. "and something about having puppy dog eyes, too."

ohhh no. of course they'd rat you out. "but am i wrong?"

he just nuzzled his nose against your own for a minute, planting a tiny kiss against the tip of it. "i just like you. you're so silly, it's cute."

with a smile, you just settled against him. "i mean it, though. pick wherever you want, beautiful." his giggles only made you happier. "i'll pay."

boo seungkwan

"chan and i bicker less than we do."

seungkwan wasn't phased by your flirty word or the way you were trying to call him beautiful (my boo-tiful boo, if your silly phone contact was anything to go by). he just looked up from his phone with a flat expression, which... probably meant he saw that post somewhere for himself. the lack of originality probably also got you here.

"okay, fine, that's true," you said, rolling your eyes. "you're still beautiful, though."

"i know that," he said. "but we argue a lot over silly stuff. vernon said he thinks it's a love language."

another roll of your eyes. "seungkwan, we don't argue that much."

"don't we? remember that time the neighbors got concerned because we got a little too heated about the way one of our dramas ended?" he crossed his arms. "i still think the ending was good, but you got angry over the way it tried to incorporate greek myth and--"

"it was incorporating greek tragedy and didn't give it the sad ending!" you threw your hands up in the air. "don't promote it as being based on the myth if you aren't going to have a tragic ending!"

"it didn't have to! it was a retelling! things don't have to adhere strictly to--"

chan's door opened, and he walked out of his room. he looked at the two of you before groaning. "this fight again?"

"we're not arguing!" the two of you said together, turning to face him.

chan just rolled his eyes, making his way over to the kitchen. "sure..." then he took one look at the two of you, shaking his head. "i'm going to see if yeonjun wants to go out. don't do anything until i'm gone or have headphones on."

"we don't--"

"you do. just keep arguing or whatever," he pulled out his phone, walking back to his room.

his door shut. and the two of you just looked at each other. seungkwan rolled his eyes, flopping back down on his end of the couch.

"i hate him," he said offhandedly, no venom behind it. you knew just as well as seungkwan did that if chan was in trouble, seungkwan would be one of the first to run there. "who does he think he is? he always acts as if he knows our relationship better than we do."

you slid over closer to him, and he lifted an arm so that you could cuddle in. "he's a jerk," you said, again, no real malice behind it at all. "you should come live with me."

he rolled his eyes. "you always say that." he turned his face, kissing your temple. "like we don't have plans already."

once his lease was up. but you just looked up at him, smiling a little. "whatever you say, beautiful."

that shy smile told you all you needed to know. keep calling me sweet things, then.

chwe vernon

"uh-huh." he didn't even look up from his phone, scrolling through his youtube history. "did i send you this video?"

you frowned. "you're not even going to say anything?"

"you've used that on me before." he continued to scroll. he looked up for just a moment. "also, i'm thinkin'... maybe we could go get tacos for lunch? haven't been to that place in a while." vernon turned his attention back to his phone. "i'm down for whatever, though."

with a groan, you slumped into the couch, already googling for cheesy pick-up lines. the back-up plan, always, for when you need to tease your boyfriend. "hey, nonny? do you have a map--"

"because you're lost in my eyes," he said without missing a beat. "actually, i'm really craving tacos now. i think we could get an order to-go if you don't feel like going out."

he hated you. this had to explain everything. "do you believe in love at first sight--"

"i might," he moved over so that he was closer to you, pulling your legs into his lap. "so, were you being legit about the not arguing thing? because i might take my chance and order anyway."

with a roll of your eyes, you gave up. you weren't going to win this time around. "get your tacos, beautiful," you reached up, turning his face toward you. "i'll pay."

he snorted, bursting into giggles as he leaned over to kiss you. "you're such a dork."

you just smiled into his kiss. "but you love it."

lee chan

you loved confusing chan so, so much. all he did was ask what you wanted for dinner, and you hit him back with "whatever you want, beautiful. i'm not gonna argue with a man who has big brown eyes." thus began the confused looks as he looked at you, then his phone, unsure of how to respond to that.

"... what?"

"i said we can get whatever you want," you shrugged. "i'm not picky--"

"that's not what you said." he frowned just a little, clearly aware that you were teasing him in some way... but not quite connecting the dots quite yet. "you never call me beautiful," was what he settled on a moment later.

which was true. you often opted to call him handsome, usually with a soft laugh and a smile that showed just how endeared to him you really were. on occasion, you'd call something about him pretty--the way he styled his hair, or the makeup he wore once when mingyu roped him into being a model for him--but beautiful? as much as you thought he was (chan deserved all the complimentary words, in your humble, unbiased opinion), you'd never voiced that opinion to him directly. the closest was the time you told one of your friends that he had beautiful eyes.

he narrowed his eyes at you. "is this a joke?" for a split second, he glanced down at the phone in your hands. "... are you recording?"

"i can't call my man 'beautiful'?" you put on a fake pout, just to tease him further. "you really think i'm cruel enough to make fun of you like that?"

chan, however, knew you. he knew that you were easily swayed into pulling pranks on him. that time he introduced you to jeonghan was enough proof of that--and every subsequent trip with his friends always seemed to result in them picking out his weak spot and turning you against him, just for a simple joke. if it bothered him, he would have said something... but it did leave him fully aware that you were the kind of person to lovingly tease him.

lovingly, he told himself. he knew it was. but sometimes he wondered if you were put on this planet just to mess with him in a way he'd secretly love. if you were going to be the death of him, then at least he'd die loving you.

"okay." he made his way over, pulling up a restaurant. he showed you his screen, and immediately you focused on the fact that this place was far from cheap. "i want to go here."

"channie, we--"

"you just said you weren't going to argue," he smiled at you, leaning against you. "hm?"

with a sigh, you shook your head. "whatever you want, beautiful," you reached up. "i'll just eat ramen for the next few weeks--"

he snorted, leaning over to kiss your cheek. "just book it for our anniversary, then." he paused for a moment, just watching you with a tiny smile. "... do you really think i have beautiful eyes?"

how could you say anything other than 'yes' when he was staring at you with them?

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog

@actuallynarii @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @laylasbunbunnyunny

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s4nniebe4r · 4 months ago

Text

the roommate

part one: the lease

pairing: roommate! san x fem! reader

synopsis: a mutual friend suggests you and choi san, of all people live together

wc: 1.2k

tags: slow burn, roommates, enemies to lovers, angst, forced proximity, eventual romance

etc: this fic is brought to life in a conversation i had with a close friend lol. this fic is going to span a few chapters, so be aware of that… no regular updates, but hopefully i can get them out fairly soon. as always, this isn’t proofread!

next part

The second Seonghwa brought it up, you both shut it down.

“You two should room together.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “Absolutely not.”

He, on the other hand, doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Yea, no thanks.”

Seonghwa blinks at you both, clearly confused by the immediate and mutual rejection. “Okay, well you didn’t have to say it like that.”

It’s not that the idea in itself is inherently terrible—logistically, it makes sense. Seonghwa knows you’re both struggling to get to the final place before the semester starts, and the rental market is a nightmare. But the problem is that Choi San is insufferable.

Your first impression of him had been nothing short of hellish. Maybe it was the way he barely spared you a glance, as if you weren’t worth more than a second of his time. Or the way that he was just a little too blunt, like he couldn’t be bothered to soften his words for the sake of basic social norms. Or maybe it was how, in that first conversation, he had looked at you—sharp, and knowing, as if he had already decided you weren’t worth the effort. Whatever it was, it grated on your nerves immediately. And judging by the way San hadn’t exactly extended the welcome mat either, the feeling was mutual.

The first conversation still lingers in your mind. You had met at some house party Seonghwa dragged you to, already regretting your decision the moment you stepped inside. San had been standing near the drinks, eyes scanning the room like he had a better place to be. You had barely introduced yourself before he cocked his head, and asked, “You always act this strange, or just tonight?”

It was meant to be a joke. Maybe. But it sent your irritation through the roof. “Wow. Charming.”

San has just smirked, sipping his drink. “Didn’t say I was. Just curious.” With that he strolled away, but not before you could hear him mutter the words what a weirdo under his breath.

And that was the beginning of your mutual distaste.

So no, you are not going to be his roommate.

A month ago, you would have laughed at the idea of living with San. Back then, you had standards. Preferences. Hopes. A list of potential roommates who weren’t actively infuriating. But as time passed and each option fell through—rents too high, locations too inconvenient, roommates too unreliable—you started to realize that standards were a luxury you couldn’t afford anymore.

It has become a pattern: refreshing apartment listings every morning, scrolling through rental groups, sending out hopeful messages only to be met with astronomical prices or ghosting. At first, you were picky. Then you were just desperate.

Seonghwa had been the first to suggest it, of course. More than once. And you ignored him every time, even when the options were thinning, even when you knew you were starting to run out of time. But after yet another overpriced studio slipped through your fingers once more, you made the mistake of asking, “So… has he found a place yet?”

Seonghwa, always the opportunist, grinned through the phone. “Oh? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

You grimaced. “Just answer the question.”

“No, he hasn’t. And you should talk to him before he does.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Why do you care so much?”

You could hear him take a quick sip of his coffee. “Because you two are both stubborn brats who need a place to live, and I’m tired of watching you struggle out of sheer pride.”

You wanted to argue, but… he wasn’t wrong. The idea still made you cringe though. Living with San? The same San who once told you to just get over it when you complained about a professor’s impossible grading during a group hangout. The same San who somehow always knew exactly what buttons to push and how without even much of a thought.

Still, the reality of your situation was pressing down on you.

You really, really didn’t want to. But practicality won out over pride, and that was how you now found yourself sending an excruciatingly awkward text. You wondered if it sounded desperate.

you still looking for a place?

It took him two hours to respond.

yeah. why?

You stared at your phone for a long moment, weighing your options. Every bone in your body wanted to tell him never mind, but you didn’t have that luxury anymore.

i have an apartment lead. two bedrooms. rent isn’t awful. want to check it out?

San’s reply came quicker this time.

sure. when?

And just like that, your fate was sealed. It felt like you were making a pact with the devil.

The apartment was fine… fine.

Nothing notable. Nothing terrible. Just, fine.

The landlord was a woman in her late forties with minimal patience. She led the two of you through a quick tour. The kitchen that should really have been labeled as a kitchenette, was small, but functional. The bathroom had seen better days, but was clean enough. The bedrooms were on opposite sides of the unit—an unexpected blessing. If you were really going to do this, at least you wouldn’t have to hear him late at night in the next room.

San, of course, was impossible to read. He wandered through the apartment with his hands remaining in his pockets, gaze flicking over each room with mild disinterest. Meanwhile, you were running frantic calculations in your head. The price wasn’t awful, the location was decent, and most importantly, this was your last option, you were out.

"So?" the landlord asked, tapping her pen against the clipboard she held. "You in or not?"

You opened your mouth, ready to say yes, only to hesitate when San finally spoke. “Is there parking?”

You shot him a quick look. That was his question? Not about utilities, not about security deposits, but… parking?

The landlord sighed. “Street parking only. First come, first serve.”

San only hummed, nodding slightly before falling silent again.

The landlord turned to you. “And you? Any questions?”

A thousand, but nothing would change the fact that you desperately needed this apartment. You shook your head. “No, I’m good, thank you.”

She clapped her hands together. "Great. Lease starts next week. If you’re both serious, we can do paperwork now."

There was a beat of silence. Then San shrugged. "Fine by me."

And that was it.

So there you sat at the landlord's desk, pen in hand, staring at the contract in front of you. San was already in the midst of signing his copy, cool and composed as ever, like this was just another task to check off on his to-do list. Meanwhile, your stomach was knotting and twisting. This was real. You were actually doing this.

You glanced at him, half-expecting some last-minute hesitation, some crack in his indifferent facade. But he just slid his finished paperwork back across the desk, tapping his fingers idly against the table, tapping his fingers idly against the table as he waited for you to finish.

With a deep breath, you signed your name.

The landlord smiled. “Congratulations. Hope you two get along.”

Neither of you responded.

San tucked his copy of the lease into his bag, turning to you with an unreadable expression yet again. “Guess we’re doing this.”

You exhaled sharply, gripping your set of keys tightly. “Guess so.”

You already had a headache.

#choi san #san #san ff #san fanfic #san fic #san fluff #san soft hours #san x reader #ateez ff #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez san #ateez fluff #ateez soft hours #ateez soft thoughts

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usedpidemo · 7 months ago

Text

Life of the party (Loossemble Yeojin)

You regret getting yourself out on the market so soon.

To be fair, it’s been a little over six months since your last breakup, the terms of which remain hazy, even to this day. It isn’t exactly a definitive conclusion, one where you can comfortably say you’re wishing each other the best, nor is it a destructive mess either.

The unfortunate reality is: it was never gonna last. You both had it wrong from the start. The foundations of your relationship were built primarily around sex—pure, unadulterated, raw—at its most primal form. You had this magnetic effect on each other, your bodies crashing on top of the other endlessly, creating these seemingly boundless explosions until you couldn’t take it anymore. It took your body giving out for you to learn an important lesson: that much of a good thing can be turn bad.

So you confess that you need space, the same thing other girls have told you previously. You’ve certainly learned from each relationship, right down to the textbook words that signify each phase—and this was the decline. Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t take it well, and she lashes out in a fit of anger.

You don’t see each other again.

That should have been the end of that.

Except, you see her, six months on, hiding in the crowd of a party you have no business attending.

—————

You recognize her right away: so distinctly small compared to everyone else that in any other situation, protecting her would be the first thing on your mind. Kids shouldn’t be allowed here, anyway; it’s only been five minutes and your senses are pervaded with the sights and smells of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and every negative vice under the sun. Except she isn’t a kid; she’s about as old as you, balancing her job and personal life like everyone else in this room.

Surely, this has to be some kind of mistake—or an elaborate trap.

“I’ve been trying to tell you,” you face Hyunjin, your self-proclaimed guide to this madness, expression uncertain, tone dour. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Kim Hyunjin doesn’t take no for an answer. She’s all about expanding her social circles and connections, others’ interests be damned. “Come on. Don’t be like that. You’ll find that everyone is friendly! Here, let me introduce you.”

Without hesitation or care for your concerns, she takes you by the hand and drags you to the first girl she spots with her eyes. “I’d like you to meet Hyeju.”

Hyeju stares at you with a cold, apathetic glare. On one hand is a cup, the drink barely consumed. Other than stand awkwardly, you’ve done nothing, yet you’re giving off quite a negative first impression. Jittery nerves, awkward expressions—it’s terrible body language that gets people ostracized and bullied on social media.

“Sup,” she says, casually, extending out her free arm to shake.

Initially hesitant, you acquiesce, smiling while trembling, as though you’re uncomfortable. The feeling is mutual. “Hello.”

Ever the social butterfly, Hyunjin isn’t able to read the room, oblivious to the fact that you and Hyeju are polar opposites. As a result, you’re both undeniably incompatible. At least you can find some commonality in being unable to move the chat forward; whether out of kindness or a general difficulty in making a meaningful conversation out of your circumstances is up for interpretation.

“Well, if you need me, I’ll just go to the bathroom,” Hyeju says, breaking the cold silence that has been occupying the space for minutes. It’’s so apparent, that it may as well have been hours. She walks away, much to your relief—and to Hyunjin’s disappointment.

“Typical Hyeju, so cold to everyone that isn’t a girl,” she remarks, shaking her head in disbelief in a playful manner. In reality, she should have realized at the outset it was an outlandish plan to link up with a man, much less someone new.

Hyunjin looks around the area, scanning for potential new acquaintances and friends. She finds—no one. Everyone appears to have formed their own little groups or cliques, unintentionally singling you out. If there was any more apparent of a sign that you shouldn’t be here, this is it.

And you’ll make it known to her. Anything to get the notion through that thick skull of hers.

“See? I told you this party wasn’t meant for me,” you comment, moving your finger in every direction, pointing out the obvious. It’s certainly quite the problem—for Hyunjin that is. For you, it’s a blessing in disguise. “Look—if you want, I’ll just pick you up later. Just text me when you wanna go home.”

Annoyed, she shakes her head, vehemently denying the offer, pouting at you for even thinking about leaving her by herself. “Hey! Don’t be such an asshole, okay? You want me to make you look bad? Try it. I dare you!”

You can only sigh in defeat. That’s how these girls get you: by gaslighting or through emotional blackmail, and it works. Every single time. And even after making the same mistakes over and over, you still wonder why you’ve been through four failed relationships in two years, now on your fifth. Perhaps there’s a common denominator that you’re quite stubborn to admit or are completely unaware of—you.

Clearing your throat with a cough, you reply, “Can’t say I’ve been made to look bad before.”

You’re testing Hyunjin’s patience, and for no good reason. This party is the only thing she’s been looking forward all week long, and no amount of negativity is going to deny her. “Let’s just have fun tonight, all right? That’s all I want. Don’t piss me off. It’s been quite the week for me, and this is the only thing keeping me from going insane.”

You shrug at her demand; you’ll definitely have more fun being anywhere else but here. She doesn’t seem to care about your plight, why should you?

Still, you follow her close behind, sharpening your focus anad keeping a close watch around your surroundings. Hyunjin doesn’t know she’s here, let alone your entire history with her. What started as a dull, uneventful night has slowly turned into a high stakes game of cat and mouse. With her stature, she could be anywhere; in front of you, over your shoulder, even as your very shadow.

So it becomes all the more troubling when Hyunjin does introduce you to more of her friends, keeping you preoccupied. She might as well have everyone form a large circle and present themselves like it’s the first day of class. You go through the motions, dropping all this information overload at the earliest opportunity in an attempt to keep some semblance of awareness around you.

And sure enough, she’s there. She’s no hallucination. In the midst of the crowd, Yeojin stands across the room, all barely five feet of her. Her blue oversized sweater drapes half of her frame like a curtain. In one of the rare instances where her short stature works to her benefit, she effortlessly disappears when someone else walks between your line or sight, but not before smiling at you—grinning, asking, begging for trouble.

You blink twice, and before you know it, she’s gone. Your attention is suddenly called by Hyunjin, seemingly introducing you to yet another one of her friends. Still, your mind remains fixated on her—the girl you haven’t seen in six months. Her number had been removed from your contacts, every photo deleted and her social media accounts blocked. Of course, meeting her again was still plausible; you haven’t moved out from this side of the country, but the fact you’ve run into each other at the same building, at the same occasion—it seems too good to be true.

“Hey—I need to use the bathroom,” you tell Hyunjin mindlessly, your stare lingering at the open passage at the other side of the room, your escape route. The words seemingly go unnoticed, until you look at her, deep in conversation with her another one of her countless friends.

That’s your cue to escape.

So you make a beeline for the exit, trying to catch even the slightest glimpse, but to no avail. You scour every room, looking for any sign of her, only to find nothing. She could have easily left the party in the time you were distracted. Asking anyone for her whereabouts is akin to a death sentence; word spreads like wildfire, and if anyone else knew of your history with Yeojin, it would be the end of the world.

You recognize you’re tempting fate with your next decision. It’s dangerous. You should let her go; there’s a reason why you haven’t spoken to her ever since.

Going through your phone, you put in the numbers. Truth is, her number is no longer saved in your contacts, but kept deep inside your notes app. Taking a deep breath, you press the danger button, cautiously waiting for her to pick up.

She answers.

“Hey.”

Even through a single word, you can visualize that bratty, cocky grin. Her smug attitude, the triumph in her voice, it’s oh so crystal clear. As if you’ve finally come calling back like the prodigal son, having recognized the error of your ways, after swearing you’d be somebody without her, even though it’s the exact opposite: she’s the one who walked out on you.

“Yeojin.”

“Missed your babygirl?”

“Fuck you.”

She gets off on that one single word. It’s branded deep into her veins. Even when you’re no longer together, it’s become a part of her. To say you’ve left an indelible mark on her would be an understatement. You’ve changed Yeojin—for the worse.

“That word lost all its meaning when you walked out on me,” you follow, months of frustration boiling up through your voice. “So don’t come at me with that anymore.”

“Technically, I came up with the idea of calling me babygirl. So I have the final say in whether it means anything or not.”

There she goes again, not even thirty seconds in, acting as if she were the biggest, most important person, which right now, unfortunately, she is. You already knew how disastrous it would be to open Pandora’s box the moment you even thought of calling her, yet here you are, regretting that decision and its consequences. Clearly you didn’t think this through—or you simply just needed an excuse to get away from the crowd, from Hyunjin, from everything.

Likewise, she’s feeling the same way too.

“Anyway, what brings you crawling back? Let’s talk.”

“Yeah.” You carefully look over your shoulder, keeping tabs on the party happening inside. No one has thought of stepping out to catch some air, thankfully, but they’ll be coming out in droves soon enough. “Let’s talk.”

“Basement parking lot. If you dare,” she says before hanging up, challenging you, as if you weren’t planning to head there regardless.

—————

As the elevator doors open, Yeojin’s echoed laugh is the first thing that welcomes you to the otherwise empty parking lot. The second being her shameless, mocking face when she turns around and familiarizes herself with your presence. Scanning you from head to toe, her eyes glint with delight, seeing that for the most part, nothing has changed.

For the most part. You look traumatized.

“So great to see you again,” Yeojin remarks, running up to meet you in a warm, endearing embrace. “I missed you so much.”

Pushing her away, her lips can’t help but leave marks on your neck, leaving familiar pink lipstick marks on your skin. Barely a minute since you’ve reunited, and you’re already wishing Yeojin was once again gone in your life.

“C’mon, lighten up. Aren’t you happy to see me too?” She elbows your rib playfully, its impact a feathery blow but otherwise devastating to your psyche. Every little thing she does is purposefully curated and designed to piss you off.

“You’ve left me with no other choice,” you tell her, sighing, wishing you’d be anywhere else but this building. It’s turned into your personal hell, your inescapable prison.

“Poor Hyunjin’s gonna be so heartbroken when she finds out you’ve left her for me,” she remarks, grinning, smirking, gloating. “How long have you been together? Two months?”

“Two weeks,” you immediately correct her, because in all honesty, you’re still in the talking stage. This party was a way—or a trap—for Hyunjin to get through your otherwise impenetrable shell. She doesn’t seem to have learned from others that you’re the homebody, stay at home type. Maybe she does, but she believes she can fix you. And maybe it’s for the better to end this relationship before it deepens further, because it’ll probably hurt less—for her, at least.

Yeojin makes a face—exaggerating her features, surprised that you didn’t spend the last six months isolating yourself in your apartment, ashamed after fumbling the self-proclaimed so-called cutie hottie of the city.

“That’ll do it,” she continues to comment, her tongue a weapon to fire against anything and anyone.. “I’m amazed that it took you that long to leave her. Such a talkative bitch, right? I bet she won’t let you hit that fat ass of hers.”

To her credit, she’s correct about two of three things. You’re baffled at how she still has friends, knowing how much she constantly spites them behind their backs, and how narcissistic she is. Your conversations with her prove this.

But to avoid pouring fuel to the fire, you simply let it pass without another word, until she’s forced to change the conversation.

“So—you wanna come fuck me?” Yeojin is so unabashedly straightforward that it’s refreshing, as much as you hate how direct and to the point she is. “I don’t see any reason for us to talk any further, except for slamming that big cock of yours inside me.”

Taking a step back, you’re not exactly stunned by her choice of attire tonight. If there’s anything Yeojin has taught you, it’s to be prepared for any opportunity where she’ll pounce and you’re forced to fuck her brains out. She’s always been like this: dressing the bare minimum to avoid getting arrested under public indecency, making the flimsiest excuses to get railed that she’d forgo all pretense and be candid about wanting to walk around with your cum leaking from her cunt. She loves the thrill of the chase, while you hate drawing all this unwanted attention by playing along with her dangerous antics.

It’s why you wanted out to begin with.

“How’d you know I was gonna be here?” you question her, despite recognizing that she’ll give an unreliable answer.

“Everyone knows this is the party to be at,” she comments, tone matter-of-fact, crossing her legs, her arms folded behind her back. “All our college friends are here. It’s a reunion. Didn’t Hyunjin tell you that?”

You overlooked all the fine details when she was discussing this with you on the way here. Maybe even while you were busy gaming yesterday.

“Well that explains why I saw Heejin back there, and the others, I guess.”

“Still the forgetful S.O.B even after all this time,” she remarks, unable to resist throwing whatever snide remark she can. “You know Sooyoung was there too! Your ex? And Yerim! Your other ex. And also Jinsol—”

“You know damn well I didn’t ask to be invited,” you say, crossing your arms and shooting her a frustrated glare. It’s an anger aimed toward your circumstances, not specifically at Yeojin herself, even if she was the icing on the cake of what is a rather miserable night. “Given any other choice, I’d rather not call you. Nine times out of ten.”

“Yet here you are—stuck with me. So who’s really the loser now?”

God, Yeojin makes it difficult to be patient sometimes. Often, actually.

“Let me put it to you this way,” Yeojin starts again, and you’re certain she’s about to say something dangerous.. There’s a persuasiveness in her delivery that you can’t help but listen. “You don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. I just want to get fucked, but this is boring me. You’re bored as hell, too. Do you see where I’m coming from?”

In all honesty, yes you do. You could have seen the conclusion coming a mile away.

“Yeah. You’re asking me to fuck you.”

“Exactly!” Yeojin grins at your response, elated to hear the answer straight from the source. She’s full of joy, she’s close to jumping for joy at how well you know her after all this time. It’s both a blessing and a curse. “So you can either do one of two things: you can leave me here, pretend this never happened, and go back up there. And God knows if that place is a wreck by now. Or, you can have me here. Up to you.”

You look left and right, scanning your surroundings. Ticketing is electronic, so there is little risk of getting caught by guards. But then, there are cameras scattered all over the place. And while there are dozens of rows with cars parked side by side to hide behind, there’s no telling exactly when someone is going to emerge from that elevator and peek through your secret act, even if everyone is all conveniently partying upstairs making a bigger scene.

Yeojin’s pushing the limit as to how you can come away with her completely unscathed. So really, it’s a pick your poison situation, with either choice resulting in a slow, agonizing death.

A gunshot to the head would be a better fate than this.

“You’re fucking insane if you think I’m going to fuck you in an empty parking lot, Yeojin,” you tell her, unamused at the offer. There’s a third, hidden option that doesn’t have to involve this much risk; it’s hiding somewhere beneath that playful facade of hers.

Yeojin doesn’t flinch at all. She knows you can take it and follow through, as you have done for her countless times. In the movie theater, in a bathroom stall, in the locker room—you’ve followed her through some of the most cramped and dangerous places, leaving a scene behind, barely escaping with your lives. If anything, a parking lot is on the tamer side. So much legroom, so much space, with little in terms of opposition—you’re never gonna have this free of a runway to fuck her brains out that isn’t confined to a bedroom, which, in her words, is ‘boring.’

Yeojin faces you with a smirk. A taunting, shit-eating grin that’s insufferable to stare at for longer than five seconds. She stares back as if she’s got it all mapped out, which, judging by how composed and deliberate she has been, is more likely than you think. It wouldn’t surprise you if she had spent the past few weeks positioning everything to fall into their respective place, working around countless different outcomes, to lure you out for the occasion.

From the pocket of her oversized sweater she pulls out a pair of keys, jingling them directly in your face. Pressing a button, a clicking sound echoes throughout the basement. It’s the alarm coming from your car.

Panic immediately sets in. “How did you—”

“Took em’ while I was hugging you,” she says, her confidence at an all-time high, flaunting the item around like it’s hers. Like she owns you.

“Give it,” you demand, extending your hand out, deliberately ignoring the obvious: she won’t yield easily.

“Nah,” is the immediate response, silent but heartily laughing at your admittedly feeble and foolish attempt to reason with her. “Gonna have to play with my terms.”

“Will you stop—God damn it.”

You’re falling back into old ways like they’re worn out shoes. Like it’s second nature, a force of habit. She’s living in your head rent-free.

“No problem.” Taking a moment to compose yourself, you turn around and make a beeline for the lone elevator. The most effective way to kill something is right at the source: her desire for attention. “I’ll be back later for the keys when the party’s done.”

“What? You’re seriously not gonna go up there, are you?” Yeojin doesn’t buy your ruse one bit. “You wanna lose a perfectly nice car to the girl you already lost too?”

“You need a booster seat to see the road clearly, bitch,” you retort, your heated exchange turning into an impromptu screaming contest. “And besides, you still don’t have a fucking driver’s license.”

Right then and there, triggered by your remark, she snaps.

Briskly following you in hot pursuit, you shut the elevator door on her as you’re taken up back to the party. Missing you by the slimmest of margins, the last thing you see before the panels close is her scowl, a fist hurled in the air, and the echo of a emphatic ‘fuck’ that rips through the entire basement.

Only now are you starting to truly grasp the consequences of reopening old wounds.

When you rejoin the function, the atmosphere and overall area has turned into an irredeemable mess—a far cry from when you first entered the room. The whole place reeks of smoke, alcohol, and even slick. There’s guests laid out on the floor unconscious, choking in a pool of their own saliva and vomit, while everyone else has turned up their lasciviousness and energy up to eleven. You’re searching for Hyunjin, hoping she hasn’t been corrupted by the madness of it all, and you eventually find her—deep in a passionate kiss with Heejin in the corner of the karaoke room, behind a sea of other inebriated partygoers.

And even if you screamed from the depths of your lungs, the guy on the microphone—not even trying to hit a note—overpowers anything else. He’s singing close to the mic, filling the room with a horrible screech that fucking rings, leaving a resounding pain thumping in everyone’s ears, including yours.

You recognize the whole situation is a complete and utter disaster. The best option being, throwing yourself out the balcony. Someone probably did.

So before someone exposes you to more doses of lethal poisoning, you quickly shuffle out of there, and bolt into the elevator. You don’t head for the basement, because a little demon is waiting for you there. Instead, you land on the ground floor, quietly walking past the front desk and security like a local tenant. They’re just standing there, idle and seemingly oblivious to the situation happening upstairs. There’s no way anyone dwelling near hasn’t called the security on them.

None of that is your business, however.

As you make your way out the apartment lobby and into the foyer, your phone receives a text. One you shouldn’t be giving a second of your attention to. It’s Yeojin.

> Where tf are you

She’s typing as you read, while you’re waiting for her to finish her follow up before possibly replying:

> You know I can’t fucking drive

You chuckle at her self-awareness, regardless of the sincerity—or lack thereof. She’s still going:

> I know you’re not at that party. I just KNOW

> Tell me where tf are u

You think about it for a good minute or two, undecided on whether to leave her on read or to actually formulate a response. You settle on the latter.

> Keep my keys warm for me, I’ll come by for them next week

She doesn’t reply back. Instead, she decides to call you straight up, and you’re still playing with fire, answering her right away:

“Hello?” Yeojin’s already shouting through the phone, but it’s nothing compared to the absolute violation that is the guy on the karaoke.

“Hey.”

Her spunky rage echoes through the phone’s seakers, charming more than threatening. She’s barking angrily like a tiny dog. “Are you seriously gonna leave me? Without your keys? I’m going to throw them away. And then what will you do?”

“Go ahead,” you tell her, matter-of-fact, because you know she won’t follow through. She’s all bark and no bite.

Yeojin growls, so evidently frustrated, so annoyed that you’re not as flexible as you once were. “I hope she fucking cheats on you!” she yells, eliciting a gentle chuckle out of you.

“What’s so funny?” she adds, catching your half-hearted laugh through the grainy reception.

“God seems to have heard you then.”

“She did? Really? What happened now?” Yeojin sounds surprised, as if she hasn’t been secretly praying for you and your loved ones’ downfall ever since.

“I saw her making out with Heejin. As in, deeply lip locked. Tongues out and everything.”

After pausing for a moment, letting the details sink in, she says, “Well. I shouldn’t be surprised about that. They’re joined at the hip, honestly.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. But look—” her inflection abruptly shifts, going from relaxed to casual. “Let’s just call it a truce for tonight, yeah? I’m tired. You’re tired. I just wanna go home, and so do you. So tell me where you are exactly, and I will give back the car key.”

You find Yeojin willingly surrendering hard to believe, as if you’ve suddenly stepped into an alternate reality. That, or her attitude has changed abruptly in the span of five minutes for no good reason. “Are you being serious for once? I don’t buy it.”

“You’re so unbearable, you know?” she replies, confirming your theory that she hasn’t changed—at least completely. But after firing back, she groans, deflated. “Just tell me where you are so we can talk like adults for once.”

Your eyes happen to stumble upon a cafe across the street, open 24 hours. You’ve found it; the place where you’ll settle the score and arrange everything on your terms.

—————

As soon as you finish stirring your coffee, Yeojin comes into view. Slowly approaching you, her mannerisms are careful, deliberate, as though you’re two professionals meeting for business negotiations. You don’t welcome her with any pleasantries—no greetings, no playful taunts, only a cold, watchful glare.

Sitting down across you, she notices there’s only one cup of coffee on the table. It bothers her seeing you like this: moving on your own, without her at your side. It’s completely unnatural. “Didn’t think to order me one?”

You blink a few times. Not a single word is uttered. You carefully lift the cup and take a sip of your drink before putting it back down, much to her not so subtle chagrin.

She takes a deep breath and exhales. Every quiet interaction, every movement of the eyes is a tense exchange. Neither of you are willing to make the first move, cautious of getting undercut or taken by surprise. It’s a quiet stalemate.

Eventually, Yeojin relents. Leaves you for a moment to buy her own drink. The realization finally dawns on her: that you’re not going to budge or fold like you used to.

And for once, she should grow up too.

“What’s with the look?” Yeojin casually shoots at you, taking a sip of her iced coffee, pointing out your stone-faced expression. Her observation: it looks painful holding on to that face. Your muscles must be straining keeping it together. “It’s not like I’m gonna pull a gun on you and rob you, or anything like that.”

An incorrect assessment. She does have something you need: your car keys.

“Is it because of me?” she adds, jokingly pointing her index finger back at herself. Knowing very well that she’s a huge reason why. It’s in her blood not to take issues seriously whenever it concerns you. “I know. Don’t worry. Lighten up a bit.”

But you don’t, out of precaution—worried of what may happen when she sees the slimmest of openings.

She leans forward, her frame halfway over the table. Her stature means she has to make a concerted effort to reach you, which has been the story of her night so far. Even her attempt at looking angry comes off as half-hearted and unserious. It shows when she tries to grab for your shirt; she physically can’t—unless she wants to pay the cafe for a new desk.

“Yeojin, please,” is your reply, huffing in her direction before looking away, avoiding eye contact.

“Please what? Stop being annoying?” she says, offended by the implied intention, when in reality, you just want things to be resolved once and for all. That you can go your separate ways and never cross paths again.

What a cruel thing to do in her eyes.

“How bout you stop being a bitch so I can give you your damn car keys back?” Yeojin finally breaks from her playful facade, fiercely jingling your keys in front of you, having abandoned all sense of subtlety and teasing. The desperation is finally catching up. “Jesus. You’re just as annoying as when I left you.”

Of course, it doesn’t bother you in any shape or form. She grows more frustrated at your lack of a direct response.

Placing the keys on the table, she sits back down, averting your gaze but in the opposite direction—sighing.

You shoot her a brief glance, checking once, then again for good measure, before sneakily taking the car keys back while she hasn’t noticed. Unsurprisingly, it’s part of yet another plan of hers.

“Go. Take them. If it that’s what will make you happy,” she blurts out, evidently defeated, her tone crestfallen. “I just wanted to see you. You know—for old times sake.”

“Hey. Don’t get all nostalgic, saying you miss me when you were the one that walked out on me, remember?” You shut down all hopes of reconciliation with that one response. “I can see why you haven’t been in a relationship for longer than two weeks.”

Yeojin turns her head toward you, visibly irate. She looks as if she’s refusing to take accountability. “You know today’s my birthday right?”

“Is it?” you tell her, knowing she’s lying with a straight face—it was two weeks ago.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, leaning slightly forward on the table. “As if you haven’t been following me in secret. All those pictures I’ve been posting on Instagram—”

“Has nothing to do with me,” you interrupt, brushing her rebuttal away as if it were meaningless. “You’ve always been thirst trapping. Seriously, you should take up being a camgirl if you want all that attention.”

Yeojin narrows her eyes. Try as she might, there’s no universe where she rips your throat out at the suggestion. “No fucking way.”

“I could help you make an account if you’re having problems signing up,” you tell her, “At least you can make money that way. And you get to have a new guy to use as your personal toy every single week without looking stupid.”

“It means nothing without you,” she says, taking another sip of her drink in between. “Something about you feels—different. Like, this all feels hollow and useless when you’re not around.”

“Stop being melodramatic and embrace what you really are,” you immediately retort, not buying her feeble attempts at sentimentality. “A slut.”

“Are you being dense?” Yeojin’s voice turns a bit more raspy and sharp with each response, as if she’s being attacked on a personal level, when it’s all true. You’ve found her like this: a thirst trapping self-professed model who posts suggestive pictures of herself and in the lewdest poses. Fifty thousand followers and eight boyfriends later, not much has changed. Making herself look available despite being in said relationships, using the most suggestive captions—they might as well be nonexistent. “I’m not a slut!”

“Yeah you are,” you tell her, flashing your phone displaying her current boyfriend’s Instagram page. The last post dated barely over 24 hours ago, her side profile clearly in view, kissing him on the cheek. No lying or running around such evidence. “A slut. Does he—”

Yeojin leans back on the couch, her infidelity exposed, distraught at getting caught red handed. She doesn’t even try to keep the secret contained, belting out her demand, “Hey—don’t you fucking dare send anything!”

“I’m not going to,” you tell her, pulling back your phone, taking no pleasure from cornering her like this. More often than not, reining her in was a burden and an immense struggle that didn’t provide any relief, only uncertainty as to when she’ll break loose again. She’s never been comfortable as a caged animal; she has to run free. “I think I oughta let him know where your whereabouts are, you know? Out of concern for—”

She’s suddenly lunging for your phone, trying to snatch it off your hands. Shielding it with your body, her strikes prove to be surprisingly painful, knocking the breath from your lungs, but you hold on—for her sake and yours especially. When she relents, you take the opening to push her away, sending her back on the other side.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she says, grasping at straws to gain even a little sympathy or favor back, when all that goodwill disappeared the moment she walked out of your life. You press somewhere on your phone—and the sound rings through her ears like a gunshot. Drawing it back to your pockets, you’ve seemingly fired a weapon aimed directly at her heart.

“Too late.”

Yeojin melts, falling further into the couch, having put her down for good.

“I hope you didn’t actually send it,” she mutters from beneath the table, away from your direct view, her final cry of defeat. “God, don’t take this from me, please—” she’s pleading, begging for her life, knowing it’ll be what ends her.

“You’ve done this to yourself,” you tell her, sounding like a judge sending her off to her damnation. “You left me with no other choice.”

“Really, I didn’t,” she replies, still refusing to take any sort of accountability for her actions, and that’ll never truly change. “He—he didn’t wanna go with me to the party.”

“Did he ask for an invite? Or did you simply leave him behind without a second thought?”

Yeojin cannot answer that question. She goes quiet, unable to respond.

“I figured,” you tell her, feeling a little sympathy for how vulnerable and defeated she looks. “If you seriously think you can crawl your way out of this one, you’re gravely mistaken.”

It’s easy to remember why leaving Yeojin—or in this case, Yeojin leaving you—was the best thing to ever happen to your life. Cleaning up after her is often a chore, one that requires so much effort for someone of her little stature. You can’t even pick her off the couch without applying some force; she’s lying on her side, staring blankly into the darkness, her soul drained in its entirety, but her body glued to the couch. Had she been a pet, and believe her, she’d rather be an animal more than human, she’d be living her best life, getting all the attention she craves and doing whatever she wants without punishment. But in this world, actions have consequences, and she’s starting to reap what she has sown.

It’s a good thing no one else is around to see or hear your little scene. Nevertheless, you might as well keep it contained before word spreads like wildfire.

You don’t want to be seen with her in public ever again.

Locking yourselves inside the men’s bathroom, you plop Yeojin down on the floor. Despite looking modern, it’s not the most well-maintained. Someone should really get on it, but the workers aren’t paid enough to care. She fits naturally in her new surroundings: strewn on the floor in nothing but messy clothes and passed out after a wild night of unchecked debauchery.

“I hate you,” she murmurs, getting off the ground and sitting right in front of you, within close proximity of your pants. You’re unbuckling the belt, working your way down the zipper and buttons. “If you think giving me your cock as consolation is gonna make me feel better—”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” you tell her, pulling down your trousers and whipping out your cock from its confines, stroking it to full mast in front of her face. It’s not enjoyable whatsoever; if anything, it feels like a waste of a perfectly hot load to give back to someone you hate. You’re questioning yourself if this is even the right thing to do—which it isn’t.

Yeojin takes hold of your cock mid pump, begging softly with her eyes to allow her control. You oblige her as she jerks your tip toward her pristine features, her fingers moving like it’s second nature. “Yeah, but you didn’t have to push me like that. I mean—he’s still my boyfriend—”

“Not anymore,” you remark, grabbing a fistful of her short dark locks, eliciting a whiny yelp from her saccharine lips. “This is for ruining my night,” you rasp, breathing heavily as her grip spreads throughout your loins, struggling to keep yourself together. All that pent up frustration finally bubbling to the surface, and now with an outlet for release.

The timing couldn’t have been any more perfect.

Soon, your muscles tense and tremble uncontrollably as Yeojin’s hot breath and lips fill themselves with your cock. Slowly but surely, her mouth takes you, inch by inch, her tongue wrapping and licking around the tip, down your length, and you can’t contain yourself any further. As pleasure builds from within your stomach, you gradually loosen up—groaning away from her in a half-assed attempt to hide your not so subtle enjoyment.

“Maybe I do miss this mouth,” you blurt out, heaving deeply between breaths as her noises vibrate and surge through your shaft, reaching the ends of your body, shocking every nerve. From careful reluctance to reinvigorated enthusiasm, Yeojin sinks back in, having never lost a beat in the time she’s last filled her mouth full of you. With all the relationships she’s had ever since, it would have been disappointing had she forgotten how to work her magic. Fortunately, sucking cock is one department she has never let you down on.

She releases your cock from her lips with a wet, audible pop, giving your tip a kiss. Looking up, the grin on her features is reforming. “Aha—I knew you would fucking fold like a bitch—”

You force yourself back in, dissolving her words with a mouthful of cock, pulling at her locks to regain command. Digging her fingers deep into your thighs, unwilling to let go, you’re back at square one. This is how everything starts: with Yeojin on her knees, her hands gripped to your skin, sucking on your shaft while you drag her by the hair. It’s a twisted game of tug of war, where both of you end up winners.

But right now, you have the upper hand: Yeojin’s satisfied moans reverberate through your shaft, disappearing and reappearing in her mouth with a fresh coat of saliva and precum. She’s bobbing her head back and forth, her cheeks hollowing out, her lips reaching further down your length with each stroke. She’s eerily quiet too, her noises reduced to mostly incoherent sounds as she dives further down, kissing and sucking on your balls, gasping at little breaths for air. It feels so good, so heavenly, that you’re considering backtracking all those missteps from long ago.

All this ecstasy for you and you alone—your lust and greed knows no bounds.

She looks up, her eyes wide, your cock pressed halfway between her mouth, spit falling from the edges of her lips, muttering, vibrating: “You like that? You like what I’m doing to your cock?”

“Fuck—fuck yes, babygirl.”

You finally fold, using the one word you swore to never use again, breaking your own sacred vow. It should hurt, but it doesn’t—it was never really of dire importance, anyway. So much for being the bigger person in this relationship.

“That’s right. Tell me I’m your babygirl,” she goads, going down and sucking your balls a second time, giving them a squeeze, twisting your head into a pile of mush.

Even when you pull by her hair, Yeojin uses it to her advantage, pressing her nose against your stomach, her lips reaching your base, kissing you and marking every inch of your cock with her lips. This indescribable suction that absolutely swallows you—it’s a miracle you haven’t dissolved right then and there. Your senses are beyond overwhelmed, and it’s only registering blurs of her: her eyes, her moans, her everything. It’s come to a point where you’re forced to pump into her, filling her down to the throat in a desperation attempt to keep the fire burning.

Those fucking eyes—staring back and forth between your aimless gaze and your cock. It’s unbelievable. The room begins to spin around. There’s so much happening all at once to say a single word, let alone an entire sentence. Even when she’s gagging and coughing, she’s still relentless, her efforts steady and unshakeable. Only God knows the smile hiding beneath the pain and pleasure, getting what she wants in the end.

“So—so fucking close—” you manage to sputter, your jaw going completely slack, your groans reaching up to high heaven in a thunderous echo. The tug on her hair is so tight, you’re threatening to rip them out.

With your cock buried deep in her throat, Yeojin’s eyes are welling up from the overwhelming sensation, basking in this old, familiar feeling. She doesn’t know if she’ll get an opportunity like this again (hopefully more in the future). Her fingers clamp around your length, ensuring your load lands nowhere but her. Face, mouth, clothes—anything to cover her as a memento reminder of what things used to be.

She effortlessly strokes away, fully sinking into the act. Your cock tenses and tenses, until the pressure becomes too suffocating. You can’t hold it in any longer; you can only hope the outcome isn’t violent enough to be made into a crime scene.

It takes only a few more fleeting moments. Between raging storms, there’s calms that give off the illusion that everything will be fine—when there’s no chance of that happening. The confined space fills your ears with echoes of lewd noises, her dampened moans, your throaty grunts, and everything else in between. Her hot breath tickles your cock, muttering a gentle whisper, a soft plea (please cum), and it sends you careening over the edge.

A slosh sound passes through deaf ears, and you’re left blind, screaming, throbbing for her. Releasing your load, shooting heavy blasts into something—someone—till your cock no longer aches. Pulling her hair is like pulling a broken lever: completely ineffective and useless.

When you finally snap from your spiraling daze, you’re welcomed back by the most snapshot pornographic image you’ve ever seen: her mouth wide, tongue exposed, sticky white and full of cum. It’s everywhere—on her hair, dripping down her face and chin, even on her clothes. You didn’t think Yeojin could gleam any brighter, but she’s glistening so brilliantly it’s blinding.

“Mmm,” she hums to herself, licking herself clean of all the mess, if there’s even anything to salvage, while you’re left wobbling, struggling for air. “Fuck. That tastes so good.”

She’s running her fingers along the fabric, picking off what little pieces of you remain. Lingering on the blots on her sweater, she realizes it’s beyond wear and begins to lift the garb over her head. Behind that thick piece of clothing, she’s wearing—nothing.Not even a bra. Her wooly fleece is hiding those small but taut nipples and the rest of pale, creamy skin.

But before you get a good view, you reach for her arms and bring them back down. “Shit. Shit. Stop.”

Startled at your sudden turn and lunge, Yeojin backs away. “What are you—”

You snap at her, “Quiet.”

You hurriedly reach for the exit. Carefully opening the door and looking outside, you notice that not much has happened, if at all. And then your eyes widen at the new sight. Two new customers have entered the store and are making their way around a table, drinks in tow.

As you lock the door behind you, Yeojin looks at you amusingly, her gaze mostly centered around your oozing cock. “Damn. I thought you were gonna run around the cafe with—that.”

You fire back with a quiet, yet resounding glare. She doesn’t react whatsoever. Here’s you again, making impulsive moves, almost threatening to get caught in public like that.

“I mean, everyone’s gonna see that—”

“Hush.”

Placing a finger between her lips to shut her up, understandably, you’re irate. Somehow, your head wasn’t in the right place. Those last ten minutes and beyond, from the time you carried Yeojin into the men’s room till now—you didn’t think you were gonna wind up like this. Public restrooms were always how you’d get yourselves in trouble, and how she’d prefer getting fucked.

It should have been a thing of the past, a part of you buried deep in the absolute depths of your mind. Yet here you are, carrying Yeojin onto the sink, pulling on her clothes. One after another, her platforms and stockings fall to the floor, until she’s left with the thinnest piece of underwear imaginable. And then you’ve come to the realization about two things: one—she’s not wearing anything other than a skimpy thong beneath, cleverfully concealed by her oversized sweater, and two—she’s soaking wet. A careful touch of her nylons reinforces your observation.

“I hope you’re fine going home without your stockings,” you tell her, kicking the soiled garments beneath the sink. Hopefully no one gets a hint as to whoever’s left them behind. “Jesus—you’re fucking horny, you know that?”

Yeojin giggles. She wears your comment like a badge of honor.

Wrapping her arms around your waist, she’s hoping to get the rest of your clothes off in return, but you push her away. Shaking your head in disagreement, you follow with, “Do as I say, and we’ll get through this—quickly.”

As you try to keep her in check, she’s already looking for other ways to mess you up. Case in point, her fingers are pumping your cock back into hardness, forcing that last word to come out a tone higher. She wraps you around her hands, squeezing what little cum you currently have, moaning at the slick, silky touch. Her legs are spreading wide in an effort to distract you from the primary concern, which is her.

“But what if I don’t wanna do it quickly? What if I wanted you to fuck me for hours?” she playfully asks, twisting her grip tighter to elicit a cry from you. “What if I wanted to fuck me till I pass out? Like you always have?”

“Mm—not gonna happen,” you sputter out, swiping her hand away before ultimately seizing it, relieving the pain for now. “Not if you keep being this stupid.”

“Not you calling me stupid—aah—ah fuck—”

Yeojin trembles from the waist up, her train of thought derailed by the new sensation entering her dripping pussy: your cock. Both of you form a harmonious cacophony of moans that fill the confined room as your bodies intertwine. The hot sensation of your shaft impales her in brutal slow motion, her skinny thighs clamping around your hips, the tug of her cunt near inescapable as you fill her to the hilt.

At first, she wrestles for control. Pulling at your shirt, at your skin, threatening to rip your flesh clean, as a respite. But as the feeling overwhelms her sense, she’s losing the fight just as quickly. Your bodies are perfectly connected, fit as two pieces of a puzzle that complete the other. Her eyes flare wide open, her gaze shooting up to the ceiling as she begins to ascend. “H-holy shit—this—so—goddamn big—”

The feeling is mutual. “God, Yeoj—you’re—goddamn tight—fuck—”

Her cunt clenches, and it’s so, so intoxicatingly tight. As if she were really built to be used and fucked. Not to mention, her stature makes her easy to carry and toss around on a whim.

Little by little, you’re lifting her off the sink, giving her no choice but to cling to you for support. Might as well; no one else is able to give her the time of day and the same level of care and attention as you, both emotionally and sexually. There’s a reason why she’s come back to you like a needy, loyal pet.

Her nails dig into your scalp and at the back of your neck. Whispering against your ear, her breath hot, she begs, “Fuck me. Please—fuck—fuck—ah!”

And you’re doing exactly that. Carefully drawing your cock back close to her slick entrance, you’re thrusting upward, your bodies uncontrollably trembling and quivering as you plunge back in, delivering a stroke that makes Yeojin scream. She’s so feathery, so airtight, that you can bear the weight of the world and then some.

She drives her fingers deep into your skin, aching, crying. “So—so fucking good—I missed this—more—more—”

And you’re doing it again. Giving her exactly what she wants: a slow, good fucking. It’s what she lives for: to be pounded and used, to be an outlet of pleasure.

You’re hammering up and into her, gripping her lean waist pressed against the bathroom sink, your attention focused on the little details. The whispers that fill your ears, the repetitive but gratifying moans and begs she makes, asking for more, harder, faster, and the satisfaction that comes with being fucked senseless. The way her legs clamp tight with each thrust. The restroom wasn’t designed to keep secrets; it’s clear in your collective groans and grunts that bounce off the thin four walls of this confined space. You can only hope you’re not being loud enough for those two patrons to hear.

Better yet, you can only pray Yeojin’s voice cracks, because even after yapping up a storm, she’s keening. Her tone rides a delicate wave between soothing, gentle quiet and eardrum shattering, high alert whining. You’re unsure if it's a joke or if she’s really feeling each stroke. you can never tell whether Yeojin is truly serious, even during sex. Regardless, her cries are breaching through the confines of the bathroom, and you can’t contain her, even if you tried.

And she loves it. More than anything, it’s the thrill. The possibility and wanting to be caught. Consequences be damned, if she can get railed in public, she absolutely will. It’s the sort of attention she craves for, the one people will remember—for better or for worse. Someone like her can’t simply be bottled up.

With it comes a new idea. You prop Yeojin back on the sink, facing her against the mirror and bending her over the counter.

“You wanna see yourself getting fucked? Here.”

Grunting against her ear, you tilt up Yeojin’s head as the glass reflects your image back. Her mouth falls wide as you fill her cunt with your cock, a thunderous echo slipping from her lips, her cry reverberating through the bathroom. Taking a mental snapshot of your position, it’s here where you notice that there is, in fact, a camera hidden in the corner of the restroom. The entire time, you’ve been under surveillance, but that’s the least of your concern. It’s about how you’re gonna make a good impression, despite facing away, the mirror serving as your primary point of focus.

And damn, you look so good together, fitting like a glove.

Before you lose control over Yeojin, you’re making an even worse mess of the restroom thanks to her. With each thrust, her slick spills from her core and onto the floor, onto your pants. You have her hands pinned on the sink for good measure, foregoing any sort of pace and rhythm for quick, senseless pounding. Her face is utterly wrecked, her features constantly twisting and contorting, dropping the occasional curse and praise here and there. The echo of skin slapping skin rings like music to your ears. It’s pushing you further than her continued cries for more.

It’s already perfect as is, but then she’s wrapping a leg around yours, and you’re daring to try something new.

So you lift her off the ground, wrapping both her legs around your hips, before continuing to hammer into her. Holding Yeojin by the waist, her back arches up, with her petite ass following along. Your cock comes into view, disappearing and reappearing behind her glistening hole, wet and coated with copious amounts of nectar. Every entry and exit feels smooth and effortless, as if you’re meant to be.

She tries to push herself up, and it gives you another idea. Brushing a hand up her lean figure, lifting her sweater slowly, eventually reaching her chest. An emphatic cry assaults your ears as you grab one of her tits, crushing it under your grasp.

It’s unfortunate you can’t push her jumper up a little more. What’s even the point of putting on a show when they can’t see?

Still, she feels so soft and malleable, ready to be used at your command. You’re rubbing your fingers along her taut nipple, rigid to touch, and it forces out these whines out of her. Anything to keep your mind off the inevitable, and it’s close. Everywhere you look, she’s right there, overwhelming your senses. Her pussy convulsing, her ass rippling with each stroke, her half nude figure you’re dying to strip completely—it’s all too much. The knot between your stomach grows tighter and tighter, choking you till you’re close to suffocating.

Admittedly, it’s happening sooner than you hoped. This is what you wanted from the start, but as you’ve been fucking her and remembering why you’ve put up with her for so long, you’re starting to second guess every decision.

There’s only so much to regret.

“Gonna cum again, babygirl—” you hiss, shutting your eyes and pouring every effort into filling her, making sure she never asks for anything from you ever again. Rolling your hips forward and with your bodies crashing violently, you have no choice but to hold onto her for safety.

And that’s what completely ends you.

In that particular stroke, as you fill Yeojin to the absolute hilt with your cock, your bodies melt—with yours falling on top of her. Your voices intertwine and form a grand symphony of deep cries from the depths of your lungs. Gripping her waist, her pussy pulses and cums, pouring her nectar onto your shaft and to the floor. Staining your legs, keeping you glued together, the bond between you can’t get any closer.

You feel every bit of Yeojin coming undone. Her eyes are wide shut, jaw slacked and on the sink, her voice gradually tearing itself to shreds. Even as she’s falling from that blissful high, she’s able to mutter two words, her most meaningful ones yet: “Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

And then it’s your turn.

You follow right after with your own climax, taking a deep breath as you unload every drop of cum onto her pussy. Twitching and aching inside her, your cock sticks inside, unable to pull itself out, wanting to stay in this perfect mixture of warmth and wetness forever. It just feels right. You find it difficult to stop throbbing, even if the only thing left to shoot are blanks.

Subconsciously letting her legs fall back down to earth, you can’t unglue yourself from her. The stickiness is keeping you together, and so is your tired body. Completely drained of all your strength, you press down on her, giving a back hug that also serves as a way to use her as your personal cushion. You stay like this, cuddled up and gasping for air, letting the hours pass you by peacefully undisturbed. Neither of you say a single word, both out of exhaustion and out of respect for the moment. Messy bathroom be damned, this is the most tender and intimate you’ve ever been, and you wish your relationship had taken a different direction than what ended up happening.

It’s a glimpse into what could have been—and that’s what makes it heartbreaking.

Eventually, you lift yourself off her, severing the connection between you. Your cum pulls apart when you take a step back, surprisingly rigid and firm. Simple tissues won’t fix it. To make matters worse, Yeojin spins around, wrapping her arms around your neck before pulling you down with her for a deep, intimate kiss. It isn’t the very act that’s the issue here; it’s how effortlessly you sink in and reciprocate her feelings.

Then your conscience reminds you. You feel dirty. You quickly pull back, disgusted—mostly at yourself.

Taking a moment, you both exchange lengthy stares at each other, unsure of what to say. Until—

“What have I done?”

“What I think you have done,” Yeojin says, gleefully, tracing a finger down your wrinkled shirt, marked in sweat and her fingerprints. That sly grin of hers will forever haunt you in your memories. “Is get your girlfriend back.”

—————

It’s too late.

It’s already half past midnight. The streets are empty. Yeojin’s quietly sits in the passenger seat of your car while soft music plays in the background to fill in the blanks. There’s five missed calls and a dozen texts from Hyunjin asking for your whereabouts, none of which you bother to read. Consequences are the last thing on your mind. Right now, it’s about leaving the girl beside you for good, and that means driving her home.

To be clear, you’re taking her back home—to her place, not yours. Your apartment is the last thing on the list you want ruined tonight as well.

Even after everything, she’s still not satisfied. She unbuckles her seatbelt, activating the ceaseless alarm that assaults your ears. You’re still a fair distance away, and the trains have stopped operating hours ago. You really had no other choice but to drive her.

“Hey. Put your seatbelt on,” you blurt out at the sound of the harness clicking, only shooting a brief glimpse toward her before returning your focus on the road ahead. “What are you—”

She’s back to her old ways. Slithering across the center console and over the gear stick, resting her head on your lap. Feeling extra touchy-feely, her hands rub along the fabric of your jeans, admiring your growing bulge poking through. Yeojin has no regard for personal space; never has, never will.

It comes as no surprise that you struggle to breathe, let alone drive in a straight line. Fortunately, you’re driving along an empty road to crash into anything other than maybe a guardrail or a lamp post.

“Christ—” You mutter, shifting your lap around to cramp Yeojin, but she follows your path close behind, causing you even more discomfort. “Stop it, Yeojin—”

To your annoyance, she’s unbuckling your pants, sliding them down along with your boxers. With no care or consideration, she runs her tongue across your stiff length, up to your tip. Her hand grips you, pumping you hard, building immeasurable pleasure in your loins. Cramped inside a moving vehicle, getting pleasured in near darkness with a rebellious girl thinking she’s doing you a favor—you’re once again regretting every decision that has lead you to this miserable situation.

You feel yourself getting dizzy in real time. You can only hold back for so long before you eventually crumble, like you always have. When it comes to Yeojin, she gets what she wants, always at your expense.

“Keep driving,” she commands, licking circles around your tip, against your best wishes. She sounds like she has complete authority over you, really pushing her assertiveness at the worst moment imaginable. Tonight has given you plenty of losses, far too many to count—you won’t let her win another one.

Your attempt at grabbing her hair comes off as a light head pat, a complement for how good she is with her mouth. Even if that was the intent, she’s still gonna blow you inside this car. Idle minds are the devil’s workshop, and she’s being puppeteered by lust every time you share a ride. No matter the distance or time taken, she’s always getting through your pants, ensuring no journey is complete without leaving the vehicle a dire mess.

If she keeps this up—and she will—she won’t be only one trying to roll on top of you.

Pulling over the side of the road, Yeojin realizes you’ve stopped driving. Opening the door, you lift yourself off the driver’s seat and step outside, leaving her to bounce her head against the warm leather. Taking all the fresh, cool air in, you finally feel relaxed. You hadn’t given yourself a moment to breathe: after your little escapde in the cafe restroom, you were sprinting back to the parking lot, maintaining a low cover, and speeding through the city. The last few hours have been a whirlwind of highs and lows, none of it really sinking in—unless you were to indulge in a few drinks. And it’s still not over—not until you finally bring Yeojin home.

Based on how obstinate she has been, still laying down on the driver’s seat, she doesn’t want this night to end.

“Get off,” you shout at her, tone grating and sharp. You’re just about to call it quits. If you weren’t so morally conscious, you would have left her behind already.

“Get off? That’s what I was trying to do,” she remarks, sarcastic and facetious. Rolling over to her stomach, swinging her legs back and forth, she’s looking silly, not even trying to hide her smirk. getting a kick out of teasing you.

You’re deeply caught up in your impatience and frustration to notice she’s baited you into sounding lewd. “Fuck off. After this, we’re done. So fucking done.”

“Are we? That didn’t seem like it when you were fucking me from behind—”

“Get back in the passenger seat,” you interrupt her, having walked from the middle of the highway to the car in an instant, whipping out a roll of duct tape from the glove compartment. You didn’t need to say a word for her to understand the potential threat and subsequently comply. To make sure she doesn’t wrestle control away from you, you ensure it stays of her reach for the rest of the trip.

And thankfully, she doesn’t bother harassing you even once. The idea doesn’t even come to mind. She sits still, as a good girl should.

Fortunately, you were only less than ten minutes away from her house. If the city was quiet, the suburban village where she lives is dead silent. Save for a few streetlights, it appears as though no one else resides here—or are on vacation elsewhere. Most times you’ve spent together, it’s been in the comfort of your apartment.

Hovering over Yeojin’s side, you swing the passenger door open. Even though it’s a long shot, you’re expecting her to get out. The moment she does, your foot will be right on the gas pedal, leaving her behind once and forall. Unsurprisingly, she stares at you instead, seemingly anticipating something—perhaps a kiss, an embrace, a fond farewell.

She gets none of that. You even unbuckle her seatbelt for good measure, telling a lot without saying anything at all.

Yeojin unbuckles your seatbelt, breaking the tension. Unusually, you don’t move a muscle, not slapping her hand away, not even when her finger trails down your hand, reaching for your pants once again. It’s clear she’s bothered by how you’ve left her stockings back at the cafe, leaving her in nothing but an oversized sweater. She’s moving in the opposite direction, shifting past the center console and onto your lap. You freely welcome her—all 4’11 inches of her—into your arms.

Kissing you on the lips, Yeojin slips her hand between your cheeks, her hands sinking down your body and to your pants, sliding them down along with your boxers. The entire time, you’ve left your clothes unbuttoned and readily accessible for her to reach. Gently smiling through the smooch, she rubs her nose against yours, softly giggling, as if to say she’s known about your little secret.

But what’s there to really say?

Effortlessly falling between the cracks, an airy moan departs your lips as Yeojin fills herself with your shaft. Firmly stuck in place with her body pressed all over you, your hands take lease of her clothed back, tired of feeling its wooly fabric. Lifting up her sweater over her head to be tossed aside right after, Yeojin is finally reduced to nothing.

You gaze down at her bare figure, awestruck. In return, she unbuttons down your shirt, exposing some of your skin, pecking down to your neck and your chest. Her little kisses leave you lightheaded, caressing her short hair in appreciation.

You’re overstaying your welcome; you should be lone gone by now. You are, in fact—just not the way you anticipated.

Propping her over your lap, your relationship with Yeojin works best when your hearts are pounding wildly, screaming each other’s name like it’s the most important thing in the world. Nothing else but the sex matters, like right now. No wonder she often has to coax you into getting reckless, otherwise your conversations would only revolve around constant petty arguments with no clear resolution. It’s because of your how well your bodies complement one another that you’re still tolerating her presence in your lives.

All it takes is one look at her, riding you like her life depends on it, her cunt effortlessly bouncing on your cock, basking in the sensation of getting impaled over and over again. She’s kissing all over your face, biting on your ear, rocking you like she wants to sweep you off your feet. And it leaves you utterly speechless every single time.

“God—please—give it all to me—fuck me like you mean it—”

And you’re right there with her, matching her pace with every upward stroke. You especially love holding Yeojin like this, cradled in your arms, forcing every inch of your cock deep into her wet pussy, drawing these little whimpers out from her puckery lips. The more she keeps talking—pleading—the greater your motivation.

Though it overwhelms you—the tensing, the pulsing, the heat—you keep going. Her cunt feels so incredible, you only wished it was on a woman that had a better personality, one that wasn’t making you regret your existence. But you don’t care about that—not when you’re taking control, losing grip to your lust and wanting to overpower her.

It hurts all the more when she sounds perfect, especially when you spin her around and pin her against the steering wheel. Watching her back arch, her ass ripple with each stroke, seemingly trying to outyell the car horn, putting you both on neighborhood watch for noise complaint. Not that there’s anyone around to wake up and alert the authorities when looking at your surroundings, but the desire for shameless attention will always arouse Yeojin.

You’re the only one who enables this kind of behavior, but you never realized that. That, or she’s looks too good to notice.

You can only focus on reaching that climax again, hammering away at her cunt, watching her shimmy her hips as she grips the steering column, blanketing every lewd sound and profanity with a blast of the klaxon. It’s as if you’re demanding her to scream your name, to proclaim to everyone that she’s yours and yours alone.

“Cum,” you tell her. An instruction to be met. A demand. “Cum all over this fucking cock, slut.”

The rapid change in intensity leaves her in an uncontrollable daze, setting her on fire. Throwing her head back, her body violently quivering in your grasp, she keens. She can’t take it any longer getting used so mercilessly, even when she wants more. “Gonna cum—oh God—so so fucking wet, ah—”

She continues to bounce relentlessly even as the pleasure rips her in half. Of course Yeojin doesn’t give two shits about messing up your carpets; it’s a given that she’ll make you pay for a fresh pair every time you have sex in the car. She cums—and she cums hard. Her slick juices puddle up on your lap, sticking on your skin, splattering on the edge of the leather seat, all while releasing a weak, airy moan that cracks her voice as a result of all that shouting and moaning.

It’s enough to push you over the edge. The wetness, the smooth noise of skin slapping skin interspliced with her cries of pleasure. Nothing this pornographic should sound like music, but it does.

Yeojin whines a passionate cry when it hits—that rush of cum that fills her womb. Every little drop, you pour onto her needy, aching core. She’s knocked the wind from your sails; you can only utter a hoarse groan of relief, in contrast to the relentless earsplitting noises that have pervaded your ears for the longest time.

You don’t get the opportunity to take one final look at your handiwork. As soon as the climax ends, the crash follows immediately after, sending your head reeling. Yeojin takes this opportunity to pick her sweater off the carpet floor and put it back on. Hobbling out the passenger door, she leaves you slumped back in the drivers’ seat.

Only now do you realize that her side of the door has been open the entire time.

“It’s been fun,” Yeojin says, evaluating herself at the side-view mirror to ensure she’s not a complete mess. Even though she looksfar beyond saving given how grimy her appearance is. Frazzled hair, soiled sweater drenched in sweat and cum—not to mention she has nothing but her platforms to make up her lower half. Her underwear is lost somewhere beneath the car seats, likely as a memento. “You know, I got a whole boyfriend to go home to and what not—”

“Surely he isn’t waiting for you inside that house, right?” you ask, puzzled by the sudden care for her actual lover. “I mean, I did send him that message—”

“I know you didn’t.” Yeojin grins widely at your response, having seen through the bluff. You never sent anything. It’s a secret worth keeping for yourself. “He’s on vacation, by the way. Thanks for giving me the best night I’ve had in forever.”

“Yeah, and thanks for ruining what was already a terrible one,” you reply, refusing to leave without delivering one last character breaking blow.

She laughs while walking backwards toward her house, smiling wide. “No problem. Talk to you later?”

Closing the passenger door and starting the engine, you shout back, “Never. Not in a million years.”

“Of course.” Yeojin opens the front door to her house, stepping inside, hiding herself behind the panel except her pretty face. “You know where to find me. Call me anytime.”

—————

(A/N: Well this was unfortunate timing in the worst way imaginable lmao. That's what happens when you get lazy with editing.

Thank you for the commission! I would also like to thank you for giving me carte blanche; first time writing someone Loona and Yeojin has always the boldest one despite being the maknae. Also gonna give this space to link fae's Yeojin fic that she posted earlier for anyone interested in a froggy double feature. Madlad's doing Kinkvember a month after debut, that's insane. Contract news broke out right as I was in the middle of editing and the power went down lmao. Anyway, finals is approaching, so I want to get it sorted before locking in for the final few weeks of the year. Thank you for reading!)

#kpop smut #loossemble smut #yeojin smut #loossemble #yeojin

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