#prepare for a tag pile

[see-arcane]

(please imagine the following being shouted in the loudest possible car salesman voice)

DRACULA SEQUEL HORROR PODCAST!

ACTUALLY ORIGINAL PREMISE THAT ISN'T MAKING DRACULA AND MINA BLOWUP DOLLS DO KISSY KISSY!

QUEER CAST! THEY ARE THE MAIN CHARACTERS!

ARCHIVES! GHOSTS! GHOULS! VAMPIRES! THE MOORS!

MINA AND JONATHAN HARKER AS THEIR CANON HEROIC SELVES! DRACULA AS AN EVIL SEVERED HEAD IN A BACKPACK!

COOL KICKSTARTER TIER GOODIES!

THREE DAYS LEFT!

LISTEN TO THE EPISODE! DONATE! SHARE!

GO GO GO!

[frans-hourly]

Do you think Sans is a top or bottom?

Bottom. No questions asked.

[asheanon]

🍵 Sometimes, I sip on some peach-y tea and think of her. (An OC I never talk about here as she's not - or used to not be - related to the blog, but... since I've been broadening my horizons a bit lately, why not? I need to draw her again so badly - as with many things - uggghhhhh... Also: ⚠️ Old, old art alert, for the picture on the left...)

Esrae loves peaches. It's a part of her identity, at this point. 🍑

I love when certain consumables remind you of your little dudes. It's like "yeahhh, channeling your energy today, my guy. Cheers, buddy." Almost makes the thing a smidge more enjoyable. 💕 (Provided you like it and it's a character you like, that is!)

[elisabeth-forbes]

The amount of times I have had to explain to another woman that I am not man-hating I'm just being critical of a man based on his pattern of behaviour that I personally believe is concerning.

If you don't find it concerning thats on you however if I feel like there is something that I think you should be concerned about then I'm going to let you know even if you don't like it because 'oh hes never done anything to me before'. Yes and personally I would like to keep it that way tbh.

[writers-potion]

Let's Talk About Pacing Our Fight Scenes.

For Fast-Paced Parts:

Short words with single syllables. Immediately > at once/ endeavour > try/ indicate > point at/ investigate > check out.

Short sentences, the shorter the better.

Partial sentences to blaze through multiple senses and actions within a few lines.

Short paragraphs

Lots of verbs.

Few adjectives and adverbs.

Cut down on -ing form of verbs, as it can make words longer

Use simple past tense

Avoid conjunctions and link words.

Avoid internal thought - your characters are irrational, ruthless and in the flow of pure action.

For Slow-Paced Parts:

Use medium/long sentences

the paragraphs are longer: three lines minimum

Include longer words with more syllables

Use adjectives and maybe a couple of adverbs.

Insert the thoughts of the PoV character.

Words for Action Scenes

act, alter, attack, avert, back, block, bang, bash, battle, beat, beg, belt, bend, best, bite, blacken, bleed, blind, blister, blow, blunt, boil, bolt, boot, bore, bow, box, brace, brag, brash, brawl, break, breathe, brush, buck, bulgde, burn, burst, cackle, call, can, carry, cart, carve, catch, check, chop, chuck, clack, clank, clap, clash, claw, clear, cleave, click, cliff, cling, clip, close, club, cock, coil, cold, collar, come, con, connect, corner, cost, count, counter, cover, cower, crack, crackle, cram, crash, crawl, creep, crinkle, cross, crouch, rush, cry, cuff, cull, cup, curl, curse, curve, cusp, cut, dart, dash, deepen, dig, deep, dip, ditch, drive, drop, duck, dump, ede, effect, erect, escape, exert, expect, feint, fight, fire fist, fit, flag, flare, flash, flick, fling, flip, flock, force, gash, gasp, get, gore, grab, grasp, grip, grope, group, hack, harden, heat, help, hit, hop, hurl, hurry, impale, jab, jar, jerk, join, jolt, jump, keep, kick, kill, knee, knock, knot, knuckle, leak, leap, let, lever, lick, lift, lock, loop, lop, plunge, mask, nick, nip, open, oppose, pace, pack, pain, pair, pale, palm, pan, pant, parry, part, pass, paste, pat, peak, peck, pelt, pick, pierce, pile, ping, piss, pit, pivot, plot, pluck, plug, plunge, ply, point, pool, pop, pose, pot, pound, pour, powder, pray, preen, prepare, prey, prick, prickle, print, probe, pry, pull, pulp, pulse, pump, punch, pursue, push, quarry, quarter, quest, race, raise, rake, ram, rap, rasp, rear, retreat, rip, riposte, rivert, roar, rock, roll, rope, round, rouse, run, rush, sap, scale, scalp, scan, score,scream, seek, seep, shake, shape, sharpen, shock, shoot, shop, slap, slap, slash, slice, slick, slip, slit, smash, snap, snare, snatch, snipe, sock, space, spar, spark, speed, spike, spill, spin, spit, splash, spoil, spring, spur, spurt, spy, squirm, stand, steert, step, stick, strap, strike, stuff, suck, support, swat, sweat, sweep, swingm tack, tag, take, target, taste, team, tear, tent, test, thrash, throw, thrust, thud, tick, tide, tilt, time, tire, top, toss, tower, toy, trap, trick, trigger, trip, triumph, trouble, trump, try, tuck, tug, twril, twitch, weaken, wet, whip, whirl, whirr, whoop, whoosh, whop, work, zap, zip.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[screampied]

plz write a domestic toji fic

៹ content tags. ៹ fem! reader, pure fluff, house husband toji, reader is pregnant, toji attempting to cook, petnames.

wc. 1.8k

toji quirks an arched brow in frustration. with a concise glance at his broken watch you bought him for his thirtieth birthday, it reads three am. sighing, the back of his wrist smears a sheet of sweat off his forehead as he gets a good sniff of the cuisine. like always, he stayed up all night, watching those random cooking mom videos on youtube. trying so hard to mimic their recipes and methods but failing anyway. “tch. fuckin’ shit,” he grumbles under his breath, covered in nothing but flour. the sizzling of the pan was quite loud. the smoke detector went off at least four times. he was wearing another thing you bought him. an apron that had the words of ‘kiss the cook’ imprinted near the front in bedazzled little sparkles. “why does it keep stickin’ to the pan.”

as his annoyance grows, he hears familiar little footsteps approach the linoleum kitchen floor. it’s you, his shoulders lower and his mood softens at the sight of you in comfy silk pajamas and a grouchy expression. “toji? ‘s like three in the morning,” and as you take a whiff of the air, you furrow your own two brows. “are you . . cooking?”

“yeah yeah,” he gruffly grouses, going back to whisking the flour. “go back ‘ta bed, baby. almost done. ‘m jus’ practicing.”

“at three am,” you deadpan, a hand rubbing against your plump growing tummy.

so cute, you were a few weeks pregnant yet everything was moving at such an rapid speed. with the way your body was changing so quick, he could barely keep up. toji hears the sass in your tone as you speak and he knows good and well he should be back in bed with you. you wondered why the left side of the mattress felt empty. you waddle over beside him, hugging him from behind. his bulging muscles rub against you and you let off a playful little whine. “tooooji, you need sleep. come back to bed.”

“princessss,” he plays along with a fake pout, his entire hands covered with piles and piles of doughy flour mix. “but ‘m makin’ breakfast for us two,” and with a brief notion of turning the fire down a bit, he utters last minute. “er— three.” and you smile at him not forgetting to include your unborn child.

toji never cooks, it’s always been just you.

it’s not like he was incapable or anything. he’s always found a liking to watching you cook though.

you always prepared him the best of meals, so good that it had his mouth watering, licking the tips of his tongue in sweet sweet relish.

right before you’d got pregnant, you’d pack him the most divine lunches for work, always with such loving care. you’d never forget to leave him a little adoring note or two, wishing him the best of shifts. so the moment you ended up getting knocked up, he wanted to try.

try to do better,

for you.

sacrificing his sleep wasn’t really an issue—he didn’t mind if it wasn’t for you and his unborn baby. and if toji had to learn how to cook simple meals, he’d do that.. despite the struggle it was.

giggling, you stretch your arms over his torso.

“toji . . making pancakes is easy,” you hum, and his muscles relaxes from your gentle touch.

he’s missed you dearly, even though he was only out of bed for at least a good hour now. hearing him swear vulgar curses underneath his breath at messing up the instructions was quite near adorable. peering at the mess in front of you, you take the cerulean blue mixing bowl from him. “you could’ve woke me up if you needed help, you know.”

“i know,” he grumbles, his voice softening a bit.

you pause—toji’s body language seems a bit different. it shifts. he looks a bit ashamed.

once toji turns off the stove, he deeply sighs. “i just wanted ‘ta learn how to cook for us— you know, like as a family. so when the baby’s here, i’ll uh- be prepared. don’t want ya to be doin’ everything, darlin’. y’er gonna be limited to do lots of stuff soon ‘n i jus’ wanna help out a bit more.”

with a smile, you stroke a thumb against your husband’s chin, right near his little scar. “awww,” and there’s an immediate embarrassed scowl stretching against his thin lips.

toji wanting to try more for you made your heart swarm up with a variety schools of butterflies. it flutters and flaps as he spoke. speaking in a soft tone, a thumb swipes a few remnants of flour near the crevices of his lip. “you’re sweet, toji. but i don’t want you stressing out over cooking. ‘s okay, besidessss we can always do it together.”

“eh,” his eye twitches at your smug growing grin. “that’s… not what i meant, mama.”

“don’t eh me. yeah it is, you want me to teach you how to cook like me,” you simper, planting a kiss against the back of his arm. “you wanna learn how to be a househusband?”

toji groans, turning to face you. verdant eyes leer at you for a long time—but he could never stay too vexed at you, you were so adorable, especially whenever you were this enthusiastic.

“that’s not the term i’d use for myself, but i guess,” and he wipes a few pounds of flour off his apron. “don’t worry ‘bout the mess. i’ll clean that up too.”

“i like this new toji.” you tease, leaning up close to press a wet kiss against his temple.

toji buries his hands in his pockets, staring off to the side and trying to ignore the incoming flush setting against his skin.

oh, you had him weak,

weak everywhere—weak in the knees.

he was feeling himself getting soft as the seconds pass. toji couldn’t lie, he was starting to like this new side of his too. he’d never in a million years admit it though. “baby please,” he grunts, switching the sink on to wash his hands. as the water screams out of the faucet, he lathers everywhere with soap before grumbling. “been watchin’ so many of those damn mom vlogs of cooking. was so annoying, wanted to pull my hair out.”

“you could have just asked me for help, silly,” and your arms securely wrap around his beefy body once more. toji’s frame was a lot more broad and built compared to you. he sucks his teeth, leaning into your touch before staring at the kitchen counter. “okay, good. you have all the ingredients . . eggs, flour, milk, umm sugar..”

and as your words continue and you observe his unkempt handiwork, toji clears his throat. “i gave up once the things kept stickin’ to the skillet.”

you let off a pretty laugh that makes his ears twitch. “welllll that’s probably because you didn’t add enough oil or butter to the pan,” and he watches as you grab a nearby stick of butter. you cut near the end part it with a butter knife before spreading it on the middle of the pan.

toji cutely stays quiet, staring intently and taking in everything you’re doing. he’s attentive, he doesn’t wanna miss anything because he’d soon be doing this for you and his soon-to-be baby.

after a few long seconds, you turn on the stove and it starts to sizzle again. “okay, so you mixed the batter, that’s good. now all you have to do is just pour a good amount into the pan and flip it once it’s a brownish color.”

“ehhhh.”

“toji, you wanted to cook so you’re gonna cook.”

“yes ma’am.” he sighs, his tone playful.

some minutes pass before you both finally finish making a fresh, scrumptious batch of pancakes. with your arms wrapped around him, you showed him all the steps slowly. you were patient with toji, helping him pour the batter and mix it. every time he messes up, you’d kiss the edge of his arm, reminding him that he can just try again. he calms down after a while, and you step away to watch him make a pancake of his own. he flips it over, and he has a sly grin—glancing back toward you, hoping you caught that. you did, giving him an encouraging smile before showering him with praise.

it was almost four am and toji was desperately trying to stay awake—you could tell he was struggling to keep his eyes open with how he’s swaying a bit. turning off the stove for the nth time, you set the steaming hot spatula aside before looking in toji’s direction. “we can always eat them when we wake up.”

“we?” he grumbles, combing a hand through his messy strands, giving it a solid scratch.

“yes, we,” and you wrap the heated pancakes with plastic wrap, tucking the undersides of the plate with the material before putting it in the microwave to preserve heat. you then grab onto toji’s hand. “we’re going back to bed.”

with a sigh, he knew he wasn’t gonna win this little spat. toji squeezes your hand back, yet before the two of you could go back into bed, he bends down.

raising your brow, toji gets on his knees before bringing a chaste kiss toward your tummy. “hey little one,” he whispers, rubbing a palm gingerly against the front of your stomach. dark, tired eyes meet yours and he bedaubs a thumb near your the print of your navel poking through your his oversized t-shirt. the cold, frigid texture of toji’s fingertips almost tickles. as he softly runs a finger down the center of your growing belly bump, a bit of flour gets against your clothes. “how are my girls? any cramps or pain i should know about?

girls,

the gender was still too early to determine but toji always pondered about how it might be a girl.

“n- no,” you breathe, moving a few raven strands of hair out of his face. everything felt different, it was as if you were walking with volumes of water stored within you. toji’s always been supportive during your pregnancy, he was trying. he stands up again before kissing the crown of your head. “you still think ‘s a girl?”

“kinda, yeah,” he utters, and a strong arm slings around your shoulders.

toji guides you to bed, not minding your cute slow waddle of a walk. “up we go, c’mon,” and he helps you up the steps, lowly chuckling into your neck at your adorable state. toji was always patient, the moment you finally reach the bed, he pulls down the fat cover so you could climb in. “��. thank you baby.”

“for what?” you slump against the cushioned sheets, slipping off your baby blue socks. toji crawls in beside you, leaning in to switch off the lamp. he still had a bit of flour on his face—and he spots you swiping some of it off with your thumb.

toji groans, acting as if the next incoming sentence was gonna kill him.

“for . . teachin’ me how ‘ta be a good househusband,” he pouts, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “i love you.”

“i love you too toji.”

“i love ya more,” and he lowers his neck to kiss the middle of your stomach. “oh, ‘n papa loves you also, little one. love my girls so much.”

[lollixp0p]

The Video (18+)

Pairing: Best friend!Hwang Hyunjin x afab!reader

Genre: Smut (MDNI), bit of feelings

Word count: just under 3k!

Warnings: Idol!au, subby!Hyunjin, slightly perv!reader, recording, (maybe a bit dub con because he doesn't mean to send it but reader watches it anyway), mommy kink, masturbation (both but separately), Hyunjin fantasizes about reader, reader fantasizes about Hyunjin, lmk if I missed anything!!

Summary: Hyunjin finally gets some alone time after weeks of hard work and decides to use his time to... relax. The next day he ends up sending you something on accident that sets off a big change in your lives, with or without either of you really realising.

Note: My first ever fic!! :3 Inspired by a video I saw on phub. (@cbini (Ems isn't on Tumblr rn she still wanted to be tagged so I hope it's ok), @comet-falls, @hyunsvngs, @mnwrld and @skz-hell lmao hello everyone, writing blog reveal!!😁 here's this fic I've mention to all of you as an anon<3 (depending on who you are I'm either ❄️anon, 🐾anon or sounding anon😳)). To anyone reading this please give me literally any feedback (comment, reblog, anything!), I want to know if this is good or not since it's my first fic🙏😣

Please do not under any circumstance copy, translate, or repost my works!

It's been exactly three weeks since Hyunjin's had any time for just himself, though it feels like months at this point.

Recently everyone's been running around like headless chickens and between vocal trainings, dance practices and the studio, there hasn't been much time to just relax and recharge. Preparing for a new album really is the busiest time of an idols life.

There hasn't even been time to see family or friends, which is common during busy spells like this, but always dissapointing to think about. Now even more so, with how much he's been wishing to spend time with you, one of his closest friends... who also happens to be his crush. Not that he'd ever let you know though, not in a very long time.

It feels almost like a blessing, getting back to the dorms from practice late in the evening and realising... he's got the place all for himself, at least until his roommates get back from the studio.

Changbin had messaged him earlier, telling him that they'd probably be there well past midnight, so there was no use waiting up for them. To him though, this was the very opposite of an issue. With that much free time, he'd definitely be able to... make himself comfortable, so to speak.

See, not having time to relax also means he'd basically had no time to get off. The best he'd been able to do had been quick little sessions barely once a week in the shower right before passing out on his bed from the exhaustion of working hard.

The realisation that he'd be able to do anything he wants during his time alone is enough to get his dick twitching in his jeans and he decides the shower can wait until later.

Hyunjin goes to his room and locks the door after himself even though he's alone, it's just become a habit after so many years living with his members. He sets his bag down next to his bed and thinks through his plan.

Hyunjin has a little secret, which is that he loves recording himself do dirty things that range from more vanilla to much less vanilla. Something about the thrill of being recorded even if no one will ever see it just... makes him so fucking horny.

He opens the camera of his phone, puts it to video mode and presses record. Moving his hand off the lense and setting it down where he normally sets it, on the carefully placed pile of books on his desk, he sits down on his bed.

"Hmm... I hope the angle's good... It's been so long since I've had time for this", Hyunjin sighs with a pout and brushes his hair out of his eyes. He knows the camera won't see it though because he's made sure the stand, his pile of books, is at a level that cuts off his head perfectly.

Hyunjins hands run down his body slowly and he exhales deeply, just loud enough to get picked up by his phone. Once they reach his jeans he unbuttons them, unzips the zipper, then pulls the jeans down just enough to expose his underwear. Hyunjin pulls his shirt up over his stomach to be held in place under his chin, rubs his hand over his bulge and hums.

It's been so long since the last time he's been able to take his time making himself feel good. It's almost embarrassing how quickly he's getting hard.

He takes his dick out his boxers and then spits on the palm of his right hand. It's dirty and wet but it just turns him on even more. He grabs his dick with the hand and slowly moves his fist up and down, to spread the saliva and precum all over his dick to make the slide easier and wetter but to also get himself to full hardness.

"A-ah, ohh... that's so good... Feels-fuck, feels so good", Hyunjin sighs. It really won't take him too long to cum, he just knows it. He's been pent up for far too long.

He tries to think of something to help his issue and immediately thinks of you, no matter how embarrassed or dirty it makes him feel.

When you first started showing up in the dirtiest corners of his mind he felt so ashamed. Now it doesn't matter to him anymore. You'll never find out so why feel bad?

He continues to move his hand on his dick while thinking of you. The last time the two of you had time to hang out together you'd worn the lowest cut shirt he'd ever seen on you. He had tried so hard to act normal around you but whenever you bent down he'd been able to see into your shirt.

"Haah, fuck..." , he squeezes himself a little harder at the memory. Everytime you moved he could see your bra poking out from the top, black and lacy. The entire time he'd been doing his best to not bust in his pants. Oh, what he'd give to be able to see your tits. They always looked so soft and they'd probably fit perfectly into his palms.

Whenever the both of you would hang out at yours, watching movies and just hanging out, you never bothered to wear a bra. Why would you? It is your house where you want to be as comfortable as possible.

The feeling of laying down on your couch watching a movie with you on top of him, in just a t-shirt, will end up driving him mad one day. Everytime he'd felt your nipples poking into him he'd almost moaned out loud.

"Hngh... Oh my god, please... m-mommy!", he lets out pathetically, moving his fist faster. God he just wants you to use him, to do anything you want to him. The thought makes him whine desperately.

One of the most common fantasies for him is you on top of him using him to get off, not caring about if he's close or not. You'd sit on his face and ride it until you cum. He could probably cum untouched like that. All he'd need was tasting you and seeing you cum, just for him.

All the sudden he remembers the phone recording him and he shudders. He imagines what your reaction would be to seeing him like this. Would you be disgusted or delighted? Would you tell him what to do and how to touch himself? Maybe you'd touch him... He hopes you would.

"Mommy... please touch me, aah- oh!", he runs his thumb over the head of his cock just right and his thighs twitch but he keeps them open, in perfect view to the camera.

Throwing his head back he imagines you riding him. You'd be so tight and wet around him. Maybe you'd tie his hands behind his back so he wouldn't be able to touch you... he'd really like that. You'd feel godly around him, Hyunjin thinks.

"Fuck, oh fuck! Mommy I'm-haah, I'm so close, please!", his dick twitches desperately. You're so gorgeous, to him you're the sexiest person he's ever seen. He feels himself getting so close that tears spring to his eyes.

"Ah- 'm gonna... mommy, gonna cum...!", he whines out long and loud. It takes Hyunjin two more strokes to let go and he cums the hardest he's cum in weeks. He doesn't even register whispering your name. Hyunjin leans back on his left hand and keeps stroking himself through it.

The feeling is overwhelming, so much so that his thighs start twitching pathetically and the tears in the corners of his eyes fall. He's getting incredibly overstimulated but he keeps going, wanting to keep enjoying the feeling, just a bit more.

He squeezes himself one last time and suddenly everything on him feels gross and dirty. He's just had the best orgasm in weeks so it's no surprise that he came a lot, everywhere. He even managed to get some on his chin.

"Fuuck... Did you-haah... did you enjoy that?", he chuckles to the phone. It takes a while for him to come down from the high, the twitchiness and the feeling of euphoria lingering in his body. Once he's capable of standing up again he stops the video.

With his body feeling like jelly, he takes off all his clothes, drops them into his hamper and prepares to shower, at last.

Hyunjin wakes up to his alarm the next day feeling more refreshed than he's felt in weeks. He shuts off the still ringing alarm and quickly gets up from his bed to get dressed and go eat breakfast.

Checking the calendar on his phone to make sure he knows his schedule for today, he makes a note of one thing; he'd have a lot of time alone at the dorms today too, since he's only got a dance practice and a recording session today, which obviously means 3racha will stay behind to stress about their songs while Hyunjin can return early. Maybe this time he should continue the latest piece of art he's been working on after he gets back?

Hyunjin gets through the day well enough.

After eating breakfast he messages you a "Good morning pretty <3 please remember to drink water!" like every morning when he has time for it. He gets to the practice room only five minutes late, which is a record this early in the morning, because usually he ends up sleeping in at least ten minutes (which makes Chan scold him for being such a heavy sleeper).

He does well at practice, even though he ends up a little exhausted. That's nothing new though, with how hard they always work to be the best they can be.

The rest of the members leave to take a break but Hyunjin decides to stay behind to film the solo choreography he's been working on for fun. Once he's happy with how it's turned out, it's time for him to go record his lines.

The recording session goes smoothly, without hundreds of retakes and everyone's satisfied with the result. Afterwards they decide to order some take-out, as a reward for a job well done... and also because they're all feeling too lazy to even think about going to the dorms to cook.

While eating Hyunjin finally realises to check his phone again. "Good morning, take care of yourself too!! :)" is your response to what he sent earlier. It's nothing more than a kind response but it makes him grin to himself like the fool in love he is.

"Yaaah!! Hyunjinnieee, what's making you smile so beautifully?", Changbin leans towards him with his signature flirting-with-Hyunjin grin, mouth half full of rice.

"It's nothing," Hyunjin responds back to him cheeks red, "and don't talk with your mouth full hyung... Do you not have any respect?"

Changbin decides to drop it in favor of eating more delicious food.

"Oh come on... we wanna know!!", Han pouts at him from his seat on the couch in the room. Hyunjin shoves another mouthful of food in his mouth to avoid the embarrassement of explaining how a single text messaged from you manages to make his heart beat out of his chest.

Once Hyunjin's done eating he's free to go back to the dorms and just like he suspected the rest of his dormmates stay behind to work some more, although they all whine at him to stay to explain the previous mystery. He declines and they all keep their sad puppydog eyes on him until he's out the door.

He keeps texting you during his ride, all the way to the dorms. Once he's in his room Hyunjin decides to just change into some clean clothes. He's too excited to talk to you and get to painting, he can wash up later.

He lays in his bed to keep texting you and at some point your conversation changes from how your day's been going to talking about dancing and he mentions how he just today filmed a new choreography bit he's made for fun.

❣️:

Can I see what you've been working on? :)

I'm sure it's really good, you always are!!

Jinnie:

Well... since you asked so nicely😉

[video sent]

Quickly sending the video Hyunjin exits out the messaging app, feeling so giddy he can't help but squirm around on his bed. He still can't believe someone like you could be interested in seeing him dance.

It might seem like a small thing for most but he feels himself turning red just thinking about the way you look at him while he talks about something so important to him. It makes the butterflies in his stomach every time you're near go crazy. It's so attentive, like you actually care and are interested in his interests... and maybe even...?

'No' , he thinks to himself. There's probably no way you could ever actually be interested in him, not in the same way he's interested in you at least.

He leaves his phone charging and finally gets out of bed to go to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He'd need it if he wanted to stay up late to work on his newest art piece.

Hearing the familiar 'ping' notification of receiving a message makes you open your phone again and just like you thought, Hyunjin had sent you the video of his latest masterpiece of a choreography. Not waiting a second you press the video just to see.... Hyunjin take his hand off the camera and set the phone down on the desk in his room he draws on. He sits down on the edge of his bed and says something, you aren't really sure what, because the volume's too low. In confusion you turn it up more.

Hyunjin sighs and reaches up to move his hair out his face, probably. You can't see it though, because the camera cuts his face perfectly off frame. Suddenly his hands run down his body to the button on his jeans. He opens it and starts undoing the zipper next. You just look at the video in shock. 'He isn't about to... to take them off is he?', you think to yourself, just as he pulls the jeans down enough to expose his white boxers and then palms his bulge.

Should you stop watching? Keep watching? How long has it even been playing? How long does it keep playing? While you wonder this you almost miss Hyunjin pull his hard dick out of his underwear and spit on his palm and... Oh God...

You've now done something you can never take back. The downright sinful view of his cock is something you don't think you're ever going to be able to forget. How do you even face him after this? After watching him grasp his dick in his hand and pump it a couple of times to spread the spit and precum around.

You exit the video, panting and absolutely soaking through your underwear. Your other hand rushes to your face to feel your cheeks. They're burning and feel like you've been standing out in the sun for hours, when in reality all you've done is accidentally watch your best friend play with himself.

You struggle to decide what to do with the video and in the end save the video without much thinking, then delete the message of it and decide to notify him of his mistake. As long as he doesn't know you saved it, it should be fine, right?

It takes Hyunjin less than 10 minutes to make and get the coffee. He returns to his room humming the tune of a song he's had on repeat recently. Setting the coffee down on the desk and taking his phone off from the charger he notices new messages from you.

❣️:

Uhm...😕

Hyunjin, I don't think you meant to send that.

He looks at his screen confused. What did you mean by that? He...

Oh God.

Did he send the wrong video?

Frantically opening the video he sent earlier he sees himself, in video, move his hand off the phone camera and set it down the desk near his bed and sit down. Oh no...

"Hmm... I hope the angle's good... It's been so long since I've had time for this", video Hyunjin sighs and reaches up to move his hair from his eyes. His head may be out of frame but he clearly remembers pouting while saying this. He watches himself slowly unbutton and unzip his pants, adjusting them so that his boxers are clearly visible in frame. In the video his hand drifts towards his crotch slowly, teasingly.

He quickly exits the video and promptly shoves his head under his pillow and yells. He'd accidentally sent the wrong video while hurrying to get a cup of coffee. How could he have messed up this bad? In his panic, it takes him a moment to respond.

Jinnie:

Oh god

I'm so sorry!!

Please don't watch that!

❣️:

Don't worry!!!

I stopped watching the moment you started unzipping your pants😖

I saw nothing, promise!🙏 It's been deleted already!! 

Little does he know though, you'd kept the video. You're not really sure why, but subconciously your brain keeps screaming' to finish it later, of course'.

...

Fuck it, you don't think you can wait until later.

Taking a deep breath, you open your gallery to find the video he sent you. You hesitate for a second but press play anyway. You can feel how you're already soaking through your underwear but pay no mind to it yet.

You watch him do the things you've seen already, all the way until he spits in his hand... and you pause the video. 'Is it right to watch this? I mean, he didn't mean to even send it...', you think to yourself.

But the thought of seeing him touch himself, to hear him make the sweetest noises you could ever in your wildest dreams imagine him making drives you on.

Pressing play again you dip your fingers into your pants. You rub yourself over your underwear and oh my god... you can't believe the wetness you feel after less than a minute of watching the video. You focus on the phone you're holding in your other hand and finally move your fingers into your underwear to directly touch your pussy.

On your screen you see Hyunjin start to stroke himself faster, the head of his dick a dark pink, you can feel his desperation through the screen. Without thinking you move your fingers to your clit and start rubbing it in circles, aided by the wetness of your leaking pussy.

He moans out loud and even though you can't hear it through the fog in your head, you know he's desperate. You move your fingers down to your hole and dip two of them in. You're so wet you barely need to even stretch yourself out and then he does it.

"Hngh... Oh my god, please... m-mommy!"

You push your fingers deeper and your pussy lets out he lewdest squelch which in turn makes you close your eyes desperately in pleasure. 'Mommy? When he masturbates he calls out for mommy??', the thought makes you lose your mind. You think about what it would be like if he called you mommy in the throes of pleasure.

You want to make him follow every command you give him. The way he'd look up at you on his knees with you standing above him. Maybe you could make him suck on a strap? He'd look so ridiculously delicious with his mouth full, drool dripping down his cheeks.

You add another finger and start rubbing at your clit with your thumb at the same time. The feeling makes you whimper and imagine his hands on you, teaching him how to touch you perfectly. You're getting so close and you remember to focus your screen again.

Hyunjin looks absolutely disheveled. His dick is red and throbbing, you can tell he's getting close. His voice is another thing that gives him away. He's whiny and his voice keeps cracking every time he opens his mouth. Hyunjin bucks into his hand and moans.

"... mommy, gonna cum...!", he strokes himself twice more and then finally cums. You're so close it's maddening. All the sudden you hear him... whisper your name?

It makes you go off the edge and your entire body clenches and seizes while you silently cry out from all the pleasure you're feeling. Your walls suck in your fingers with how you're clenching around them. On the screen Hyunjin twitches violently, working himself through the end of his orgasm.

You pull your fingers out of yourself and slump down on your bed exhausted, but the last 20 seconds of the video that's now over haunts you. Did you hear him right?

You gather strength to pick up your phone again and rewind the video to the part where he cums and turn the volume almost all the way up. Admittedly you end up fixating on the way his dick looks and face twists in pleasure when he cums and then he says, or more like whisper your name. Your brain blanks.

"Fuuck... Did you-haah... did you enjoy that?", he chuckles to the phone, sits in place for a bit to properly come down and then gets up to stop the video.

You're wet, confused and you can feel your heart beat out of your chest. What do you do now? How can you ever face him normally after that... Does he feel the same way you do? Is he sure he didn't mean to send it?

It's all too much to think about, so you decide that instead of thinking about it you'll clean yourself up and... crawl into a hole where no one will ever find you. Probably. The only thing you know for sure is you definitely won't be sleeping tonight.

© lollixp0p 2024 | please do not under any circumstance copy, translate, or repost my works

[luvsupa]

001 | THE GARDEN

tags: trueform!sukuna x servant!fem reader, angst, smut(ish), pet names, lots of tension, teasing, mentions of death, mdni.

w.c: 3.9k (damn)

a/n: sorry for not posting in a whilee💔💔 I’ve been so sick and still am 🤧 😓 but this is req from this ask! (I will be making multiple parts to this i was writing a lil too much 😟)

+ likes and reblogs are appreciated!

part 2!

“sukuna-sama expects his dinner,” one of sukuna’s subordinates announces, pushing open the heavy wooden door to the kitchen. you and several other servants are already hard at work preparing the meal.

everyone tenses at the reminder, knowing that sukuna’s patience is thin. this is your first time preparing his dinner—usually, you’re assigned to gardening or cleaning. the sight before you is almost too much: bones, flesh, and organs stacked on the plate, creating a grotesque pile. the stench of death fills the air, making your stomach churn as you try not to gag.

as the meal is finished, you grab the edges of the heavy plate, bracing yourself for the weight of the revolting flesh.

“you’re not worthy to deliver the king’s food,” yorozu sneers, snatching the plate from your hands with a flick of her wrist. “you might upset him and end up as his next meal,” she adds, carrying the plate effortlessly while laughing as she exits. her mocking tone stings, and you can’t help but think of her with contempt as you and the other servants clean up.

bitch.

unable to bear the stench any longer, you leave the kitchen early. the other servants understand and let you go, knowing the smell has become too much for you. as you walk down the dimly lit hallway, you look up at the open ceiling, where stars shine faintly against the night sky. an eerie wind howls through the corridor, its sound both creepy and mesmerizing.

you glance towards the servant quarters but are drawn to the door leading to the garden. it feels like something is beckoning you, so you decide to take a detour. opening the door, you’re greeted by the moonlit garden—a stark contrast to the darkness inside. the flowers and fruit glow vibrantly under the moonlight, and the trees sway with the force of the wind.

walking deeper into the garden, you stop on the wooden bridge over the koi pond. you peer into the water, watching the koi fish below. as you look closer, your reflection shimmers in the rippling water. the fish suddenly dart away, disappearing in an instant. your confusion grows as you focus on your reflection and see four red orbs glowing ominously behind you.

frozen in place, fear grips you tightly. your heart pounds wildly, and you’re paralyzed by the chilling presence that seems to lurk just out of sight. your mind races, but you remain utterly silent and immobile, trapped by the eerie, haunting feeling that you are being watched.

you stand there frozen, the chill of fear gripping your body as your heart pounds furiously. you’re paralyzed by terror, unable to make a sound, not even a whisper.

“awh, i wish to get more of a reaction out of you,” the unknown voice murmurs darkly. slowly, you turn to see an extremely tall man with an array of unsettling features. the sight nearly makes you faint. the king.

“my lord,” you stammer, bowing deeply in respect. he chuckles at your rapid attempt to regain composure.

“it’s very easy to get into your head,” he observes, scanning your trembling form. “is there nothing up here?” he laughs, knocking your head playfully. you wince at his touch and rub your head, frowning at his mockery.

“there is,” you retort, turning your gaze away from him. you’re not trying to be disrespectful, but his subtle insult stings.

your heart still races as you focus on the rippling water beneath the bridge. sukuna towers over you, his presence as oppressive as the dark night sky. the garden around you is shrouded in shadows, illuminated only by the faint glow of the moon and the shimmering koi fish gliding silently beneath the water’s surface. the air is eerily quiet, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of insects.

“so, what brings you to my garden, little one?” sukuna’s voice slices through the silence, smooth but laced with a sharp edge. you turn to look at him; this time, he’s also peering down at the fish.

you hesitate, unsure of what to say. the truth is, you hadn’t meant to end up here—you were simply drawn in by some inexplicable force. but could you really admit that to him? that you felt something calling you?

“i… needed some fresh air, sukuna-sama,” you finally reply, your voice barely a whisper. it’s a weak excuse, but it’s all you can muster.

he chuckles darkly, the sound low and rumbling, as if he can see right through your flimsy explanation. “fresh air? after dealing with my dinner? you must have a stronger stomach than i thought,” he teases, his tone carrying a hint of disbelief. he steps closer, the wooden bridge creaking under his weight. “or maybe you’re just running away from something?”

you stiffen, his words cutting close to home. he’s right, of course. you’re running—from the stench of death, from the sight of flesh and bone, from the reality of serving someone like sukuna. but admitting that feels like exposing your most vulnerable self, and you’re not ready for that.

“no, my lord,” you say, shaking your head. “i just needed a moment to clear my thoughts.”

sukuna hums, clearly unimpressed by your response. he circles around you, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator sizing up its prey. you can feel his gaze lingering on you, making you hyper-aware of every breath you take, every inch of space between you.

“clear your thoughts, huh?” he muses, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “what could a little servant like you possibly have to think about?” his tone is mocking, almost condescending, yet there’s a genuine curiosity in it.

you swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on you. what could you say that wouldn’t sound trivial to a man like him? you’re just a servant—your worries are insignificant compared to his vast existence. but something about his question—and the way he seems to revel in your discomfort—makes you want to push back, just a little.

“i think about a lot of things, my lord,” you say softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “like the stars, or the way the wind feels at night. or the flowers in the garden.” you pause, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “even… even what it must be like to be someone like you.”

the last part slips out before you can stop yourself, and you immediately regret it. your heart skips a beat as you brace for his reaction, fearing you’ve crossed some invisible line. but to your surprise, sukuna doesn’t lash out. instead, he halts, staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“someone like me?” he echoes, his brow arching with a mix of curiosity and disdain. “and what do you imagine it’s like, little one? to be someone like me?”

you hesitate, unsure how to respond. you hadn’t really thought it through—your words had just spilled out in the heat of the moment. but now that he’s asking, you can’t back down.

“i imagine it’s lonely,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. “to have so much power, but no one who truly understands you. no one who dares to stand by your side, except out of fear.”

the garden falls into silence, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. you can feel sukuna’s gaze boring into you, but you don’t dare meet it. your heart races, fearing you’ve gone too far.

then, sukuna does something unexpected—he laughs, a low, dark laugh that sends shivers down your spine. “lonely?” he repeats, as if the concept is foreign to him. “you think i’m lonely?”

he leans in closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your skin. “let me tell you something, little servant,” he murmurs, his voice soft but laden with menace. “i don’t need anyone to stand by my side. i don’t need understanding or companionship. all i need is power, and the fear it brings. that’s what sustains me.”

his words are harsh, but there’s something in his tone—a hint of something deeper, something he’s not willing to admit. you feel a pang of sadness, realizing that beneath all that power, there’s a void he refuses to fill.

“you should be careful, doll,” he says, his voice low and warning. “curiosity can be dangerous. especially when it comes to me.”

with that, he straightens up, turning to leave. but before he can take a step, he pauses, glancing back at you with a smirk. “perhaps i’ll visit you again. after all, i find your little thoughts quite entertaining.”

your breath catches as you watch him disappear into the shadows, leaving you alone in the garden once more. the night is still, the stars shining brightly overhead, but the fear that had gripped you earlier has lessened, replaced by something else—something you can’t quite put into words.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *-

the next evening, you enter the shared servant quarters with a basket of clothes, overhearing yorozu and your other roommates gossiping about what happened in sukuna’s chambers. you pretend not to listen as you place the basket on the bed and start folding the clothes, trying to catch snippets of their conversation.

“he’s a maniac,” yorozu boasts loudly, “he even made love to me until sunrise—oh, how incredible it felt.”

you raise your brows at her blatant lie. after your encounter with sukuna, you had carefully snuck into the room to find yorozu and the others fast asleep.

what a liar.

the girls listening to yorozu gasp in awe, pleading for more details about her so-called night with the king. their excitement fades, however, as the door swings open, and uraume enters. the ladies quickly notice their presence and bow in respect.

“sukuna-sama has requested you to give him his bath,” uraume announces, looking directly at you. you glance around, wondering if uraume might have mistaken you for another servant.

“me?” you ask, pointing at yourself in confusion. the other servants exchange glances of barely concealed disgust. uraume nods, and they take their leave, closing the door behind them and leaving you in an awkward silence.

you smile to yourself as you hear yorozu’s incredulous question about why you’re the one chosen to assist with sukuna’s bath. you’re not a high-ranking servant, let alone someone who should be in his presence for more than a minute, much less during a bath.

discarding the basket of clothes, you rush out of the room, a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation bubbling inside you about what might unfold between you and sukuna.

the walk to sukuna’s chambers nearly left you breathless, so secluded is his room from the rest of his vast estate. the wooden double doors, adorned with menacing skulls, creak open as uraume gestures for you to enter. they guide you past the threshold and direct you towards the private pool area, marked as the exit.

as you step into his room, you’re struck by its enormity. it’s so grand that it seems like a small residence in itself, complete with its own living area, kitchen, and even a staircase leading to what you assume must be his private quarters. the room boasts a massive balcony overlooking the villages below, offering a breathtaking view. to one side, a door leads to his expansive garden. 

fear courses through you as you sense his overwhelming presence grow stronger. your gaze is drawn irresistibly to the garden door, and something compels you forward. you push the door open and step into the garden, which is bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. 

there, in the center of the garden, is a large, dark pool. steam rises from the bubbling water, adding an ethereal quality to the scene.

and there he is.

sukuna sits in the pool, his eyes closed. his two arms rest casually on the edge, while the other two are submerged beneath the surface. his chest, covered in ancient tattoos, glistens with water droplets under the moonlight. the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest with each breath is the only movement in the otherwise still night.

“there you are, my little one.”

you stood there, swallowing hard as he opened his eyes to meet yours. his hand motioned for you to come closer, and you obeyed, lowering yourself to your knees beside him.

“something disturbing you?” he asked, feigning concern as he searched your eyes for a reason. “nothing, my lord. I’m just surprised you requested me instead of yorozu.”

a smirk played on his lips as his fingers lightly brushed the fabric of your kimono. “join me,” he said, his tone laced with a provocative edge. your eyes widened at the request, and you stumbled over your words, unable to form a coherent response. all you could hear were the faint pops of bubbles in the pool.

“unless you’d prefer I call for yorozu,” he added, a hint of amusement in his voice that sparked a pang of jealousy in you.

with a deep breath, you carefully stood up, untying your kimono and letting it pool around your feet as sukuna’s gaze remained fixed on your bare figure. he bit his lip, watching as you hesitantly stepped into the steaming water. the heat was intense, but you pushed through, your entire body soon engulfed by the water. sukuna’s arms, hidden beneath the surface, wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer until you were resting on his lap. you flinched at the unexpected contact.

you could feel his cocks.

he chuckled at your reaction, his laughter carrying a hint of cruel amusement. “does her name strike a nerve?” he taunted as you glanced around, avoiding his gaze while taking in the garden’s beauty. without warning, he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I don’t like being ignored, woman.”

“it doesn’t seem fair that you have sexual relations with her and then summon me. you’re only going to make the other servants despise me,” you confessed, your voice trembling. his expression was unreadable, leaving you unsure whether he was angry or merely contemplating your words.

your pulse quickens as sukuna’s intense gaze pins you in place, his four crimson eyes gleaming with dark amusement. his massive form looms over you, every inch of his heavily tattooed body radiating power and menace. the steam swirling around you thickens the air, and the bubbling water at your waist feels like it’s vibrating with the tension between you.

“jealousy doesn’t suit you,” sukuna murmurs, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. his tone is laced with condescension, as if daring you to challenge him. one of his hands tightens its grip on your waist, while another trails a sharp claw along the side of your neck, dangerously close to your pulse.

you swallow hard, trying to maintain composure, but your voice betrays you with a slight tremor. “i’m not jealous,” you lie, even as your heart races. “i just don’t understand why you would entertain her lies.”

sukuna’s lips curl into a cruel smirk, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. “entertain her lies?” he echoes mockingly, leaning in so close that his breath fans across your face. “you think i care about what that pathetic woman says? the only reason i acknowledge her existence is to see you squirm.”

he moves one of his lower arms to grip your chin, forcing you to look up at him. his eyes bore into yours, and the sheer intensity of his gaze makes your knees feel weak. “you’re nothing but a fool to her,” he continues, his voice dripping with venom. “a pawn in her petty games. but you… you’re mine.”

your breath hitches as his words send a jolt of heat through your body, leaving you torn between the urge to slap him and an even stronger, confusing desire. the steam rises thicker around you, wrapping you both in a cocoon of suffocating heat, and the bubbling water feels like it’s boiling against your skin.

“i’m not a toy,” you manage to say, though the words sound weak even to your own ears. sukuna’s laugh is low and menacing, and you feel his upper arms encircle you, pulling you closer to his enormous chest, his wet skin slick and warm against yours.

“oh, but you are,” he purrs, his voice both mocking and seductive. “my toy. my plaything. and i’ll do with you whatever i please.”

the heat of the water and the intensity of his gaze create a pressure that feels almost unbearable. his four crimson eyes lock onto yours with a predatory gleam, while his massive, tattooed form looms over you. the steam from the bubbling pool rises in thick clouds, obscuring everything but the two of you, wrapping you in a suffocating cocoon of heat and desire.

sukuna’s hands continue their torturous exploration. his lower arms grip your waist, holding you flush against him. his touch is deliberate, almost maddeningly slow, as his fingers trail lightly along your sensitive slit, spreading your folds making you whimper at his touch. every brush of his fingertips makes you shiver, your body reacting instinctively to the teasing pressure.

“you feel that?” sukuna growls, his voice rough with dark pleasure. his fingertips linger at your entrance, grazing the sensitive area with tantalizing slowness. “every inch of you is responding to me. don’t try to deny it.”

the water around you bubbles more furiously, the heat intensifying as sukuna’s touch grows bolder. your breath hitches with every pass of his fingers, your hips slowly grinding on his fingers for something more. the tension between you thickening until it feels like it’s pressing down on you from all sides. the steam is stifling, making it hard to think, and the heat of the water feels almost like a physical presence, amplifying the pressure of sukuna’s touch.

you try to maintain your composure, but your voice betrays you, trembling with barely contained desire. “i’m not yours,” you manage to say, though the words sound weak against the backdrop of his dark amusement.

sukuna’s lips curl into a cruel smile, his sharp teeth flashing in the dim light. “oh, but you are,” he murmurs, his voice both mocking and seductive. “and deep down, you know it. you can’t hide from what you want.”

his lower arms grip your hips firmly, pulling you snugly against him. you gasp as his fingertips graze your clit with a teasing touch, sending a shiver of electric pleasure through your body.

“my precious brat,” sukuna growls, his fingers continuing their teasing caress, barely making contact but just enough to drive you wild with anticipation. the sensation is maddening, the heat of his touch against your sensitive skin making it hard to focus on anything but the overwhelming need building within you.

you try to maintain control, but your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps. “’m not yours,” you repeat, shutting your eyes, hoping he would do something.

sukuna’s eyes glint with cruel satisfaction as he increases the pressure slightly, his fingers brushing over your clit with a teasing rhythm. the dizziness increases as the pressure of his touch and the intensity of his gaze combine. 

sukuna smirks as he brings his hand from the water to pinch your neglected breasts, pulling and teasing your nipples until you gasp loudly. simultaneously, his fingers rub circles on your poor clit with a harsh rhythm, each touch sending sharp jolts of pleasure through your body. the sensations blend together, leaving you dizzy and disoriented, as if you’re drunk off his touch. 

the steam seems to wrap around you tighter, making it hard to think clearly. sukuna’s touch is relentless, the teasing strokes sending waves of heat through your body. your mind is spinning, caught between the heat of the water, the pressure of his touch, and the oppressive weight of his presence.

his fingers trace along the edges of your entrance with agonizing slowness, the touch making your body quiver with anticipation your breasts aching at the teasing. sukuna’s hands grip you tighter, pulling you closer, and the sensation of his body against yours only adds to the unbearable pressure.

“say it,” he commands, his voice rough and demanding. “tell me you’re mine.”

the words catch in your throat, the intensity of the moment making it almost impossible to speak. the steam, the heat, the pressure of sukuna’s touch—all of it overwhelms you. the tips of his fingers push into your hole, your body instinctively wanting more. the tension breaks, and the words slip from your lips, barely audible over the sound of the bubbling water.

“f-fuck yours- ‘m yours ,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of the admission. he widely smirks as you gave in, knowing that you’re his. the heat of the water, the intensity of sukuna’s touch, and the oppressive presence of his gaze converge, leaving you breathless and dizzy, completely trapped in his embrace.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the next morning, you and the other servants were summoned to the kitchen by the higher-ups. as you prepared, memories of your night with sukuna kept making you smile, his words-you’re mine- echoing in your mind. sukuna wanted you, and only you.

in the large, cobblestoned kitchen, you and the servants gathered around the wooden island table where uraume had called everyone. chatter and gossip filled the room as you stood with your friends, one of them clutching your arm nervously as everyone waited for uraume’s arrival.

the wooden doors creaked open as uraume and several guards filed in, immediately commanding attention. “good morning, everyone,” uraume said, silencing the room.

“sukuna-sama has been keeping an eye on a few of you while you worked,” uraume continued, causing a collective gulp of fear to ripple through the room. whispers of suspicion and dread filled the air, as many feared sukuna’s scrutiny meant trouble.

“and he is beyond pleased with one of your skills,” uraume added, and the room erupted in gasps and murmurs of relief. you heard whispers behind you—could it be me? it has to be me.

you couldn’t help but chuckle at their eagerness. most of the servants slacked off when uraume or sukuna’s subordinates weren’t around, but you always made sure to be diligent. you weren’t trying to be a suck-up; you were just keenly aware of the consequences of falling out of favor. after all, many had met grim fates.

was this about me? had the king of curses been watching? you think.

uraume walked closer to your side of the room, maintaining their usual emotionless demeanor. a few of the other servants' smiles faltered as uraume pushed through the crowd, making a beeline for you. their eyes were filled with a mix of envy and disbelief, and you straightened your posture with a slight bow, a wide, hopeful smile spreading across your face.

“i’m very thankful for this��”

“move.”

you choked on your saliva, your face flushing with embarrassment as you froze, head down. the realization that you were not the one being recognized hit hard as uraume moved past you to the girl in the back. murmurs and chuckles spread through the room, and you could feel your cheeks burning with shame.

i just want to disappear.

uraume pulled one of the servants deemed ‘skilled’ to the front of the room. you slowly raised your head to see yorozu, standing there with a beaming smile, clearly thrilled.

“sukuna-sama is beyond satisfied with your skills and dedication,” uraume announced. “he has requested a personal dinner with yorozu.”

what?

[rafedarling]

𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐧’𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬

pairing: dad!drew starkey x mom!reader

summary: you and drew both decided to let rustyn celebrate his first christmas with both sides of your extended family. rustyn, at just six months old, steals everyone’s hearts with his bright smile and lively personality just like his dada.

warning(s): english is not my native language. fluff overload, mentions of breastfeeding and parenting dynamics, family gatherings.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore

“Merry Christmas!” you both called out cheerfully as the door opened.

Your mom appeared in the doorway, her face lighting up at the sight of her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson.

“Oh, Y/N!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug.

“And look at this little one!”

Her eyes softened as she bent down to stroke Rustyn’s cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Mom,” you said warmly, stepping aside so Drew could greet her.

Drew leaned in to give her a quick hug, careful not to jostle the baby carrier.

“Merry Christmas! We’ve been looking forward to this all month.”

“And so have we,” your mom replied, beaming.

“Oh, come in, come in! It’s freezing out there.”

As you stepped inside, the warmth of the house enveloped you, and the sound of laughter and holiday music made your heart swell.

Drew’s family was already mingling with yours, chatting as if they’d known each other forever. It was exactly what you had envisioned when you and Drew decided to bring both families together for Christmas this year.

Your dad approached, his smile wide as he greeted Drew with a handshake that quickly turned into a hug.

“There’s my son-in-law! And my grandson,” he said, his voice filled with pride.

He leaned down to make funny faces at Rustyn, who responded with an excited giggle.

“Say hi to Grandpa,”

Drew said, gently lifting one of Rustyn’s tiny hands to wave. Your dad’s laughter echoed through the room, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sweet interaction between them.

After everyone had exchanged warm greetings, you and Drew found yourselves in the living room, where the Christmas tree stood tall and sparkling. Its ornaments glimmered and a stack of presents was piled neatly underneath.

Brooke, Drew’s sister, knelt down beside you with a brightly wrapped box in her hands.

“This one’s for Rustyn,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“Oh, how exciting!”

You exclaimed, settling Rustyn on your lap so he could reach for the present. Though only six months old, his chubby hands eagerly grabbed at the wrapping paper, his face lighting up with a toothless grin.

“You’ve got this, buddy,”

Drew encouraged, leaning over to help tear a small piece of the paper.

Rustyn squealed in delight as the gift was revealed; a soft, plush dragon. You gasped dramatically, holding it up for him.

“Look at this, Rustyn! Your first dragon! Say thank you to Aunty Brooke.”

Drew chuckled.

“He’s going to love that. I can already tell.”

“Speaking of gifts,”

Drew added, standing up to retrieve a bag from under the tree,

“Rustyn has a little something for everyone, too.”

He began handing out small, thoughtfully wrapped presents you had both prepared. Each gift had been chosen with care, personalized ornaments for the grandparents, matching scarves for the aunts and uncles, and even a little handmade card from Rustyn (with your help, of course).

The room is now fill with nothing but with laughter and gratitude as the gifts were opened.

Soon, the smell of roasted turkey and warm bread wafted in from the dining room. Everyone gathered around the beautifully set table, the centerpiece adorned with holly and candles. Drew helped you into your seat before settling into his own, Rustyn still securely strapped in his baby carrier.

As plates were passed and glasses were raised, Rustyn began to fuss, his face scrunching up as he let out a small cry.

“Oops, someone’s hungry,”

Your mom observed with a gentle smile.

You started to rise from your seat, but Drew placed a hand on your arm, his voice calm and reassuring.

“Babe, I’ve got this. You eat, I’ll calm him down.”

You shook your head with a soft smile.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll feed him. You should enjoy your food too.”

Drew nodded, helping you unbuckle the baby carrier. He handed Rustyn over carefully, his fingers brushing against yours in a way that made your heart flutter.

“Let me at least save your plate,” he said, his eyes warm.

You carried Rustyn to the living room, where the lights were softer and the atmosphere quieter which really help Rustyn calm down.

Sitting on the couch, you cradled him in your arms as you began nursing. The soft light of the Christmas tree lit the room, and the crackle sound of the fireplace added to the cozy ambiance.

About fifteen minutes later, Drew appeared in the doorway, holding your plate, now freshly refilled with warm food. A glass of warm water was balanced in his other hand.

“You didn’t think I’d let you miss Christmas dinner, did you?”

He teased, a playful grin on his face. He plopped down on the floor in front of you, crossing his legs and setting the plate on his lap.

“Now, open up.”

You laughed, shaking your head.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you,”

He countered, spearing a piece of turkey with his fork and holding it up to your lips.

You rolled your eyes but leaned forward to take a bite.

“You know, I could’ve waited until later.”

“And miss the chance to pamper my wife? Never,” he said, leaning forward to kiss your forehead.

Rustyn, now full and content, gave a soft coo, his tiny fingers clutching at the fabric of your sweater. You glanced down at him, your heart swelling with love, before looking back at Drew.

“I think you’re spoiling us both,” you murmured.

Drew’s grin softened into something more tender.

“You two deserve it. Every bit of it.”

After dinner and more chit chat, the family gathered once again in the living room, this time for games and stories. Rustyn, now awake and in a playful mood, was passed around from grandparent to grandparent, each one marveling at his tiny hands and infectious smile.

Brooke pulled out her phone to snap a picture of Drew holding Rustyn, who was tugging at the festive Santa hat on Drew’s head.

“That’s definitely going on the family Christmas card,” she said, laughing.

By the evening, Rustyn had fallen asleep in Drew’s arms, his little head resting against Drew’s chest. You sat beside them on the couch, your head leaning against Drew’s shoulder as you watched the twinkling lights of the tree.

“Merry Christmas, Drew,” you whispered, your voice soft with emotion.

He turned his head, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N. I don’t think it gets better than this.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you reached for his hand.

“Thank you, for being such an amazing husband. And an amazing dad.”

He squeezed your hand, his gaze dropping to Rustyn’s peaceful face.

“Thank you for making me both.”

Drew tilted your chin up, capturing your lips in a kiss filled with all the love and promises of the years to come.

[milfgyuu]

Hot Wheels [M] Pairing: Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader Tags: 15.9k, 90's AU, Co-Workers to Lovers, Fluff, Humor, Smut 18+ Collab: Now That's 90's Summary: There has been something brewing between you and your part-time co-worker (full-time hottie), Kim Mingyu. Endlessly flirting on the clock at Wheelies, making out in the back of the movie theater, rolling around in the sand with a mighty good man...no other 90's dreamboat could ever compare. Warnings: SMUT 18+, MINORS DNI!! mxf (consensual) sex, fingering, low-key breast play, making out (in public), hickey talk, Mingyu is hung (obvs), he's also portrayed as 'taller' than the mc in interactions, mild to moderate language use, gyu's roomies are sloshed at the end (unrelated to smut or main characters), that should cover all the bases...

Fridays at the roller rink are always busy but this is the first official skate-night of Summer Time ‘99 and it’s like opening day all over again. The schools let out just a few hours ago, releasing hoards of teenagers with pent-up energy loose on your small town and there is a line out the door waiting to get into Wheelies to jump-start their next few months of freedom.

Thankfully, the owners prepared and bought a whole new stock of skates so when you inevitably have to help out at the rental counter you’ll have enough to go around without having to argue with some sixteen-year-old about not having their size.

For now, you’re on the floor making sure everything is running smoothly, gliding around in circles with your hands in your pockets. It’s not too packed just yet even though you can see the steady stream of kids filtering through the doors after hitting the ticket booth. Mothers are packing up their little ones knowing it’s time to head out before it picks up pace and the exchange in skaters coming on and off the floor keeps things pretty even for a short while. 

As you pass by the DJ booth for the hundredth time this evening, Vernon pauses to make a goofy face at you while he sets up his equipment. He’s probably the one person who enjoys the summer nights the most because he gets to put on light shows and mix tracks to his heart’s content. 

After letting the floor empty a bit more, you come to a stop in front of him for a quick break, crossing your arms and resting them over the top of his carpeted booth. 

“You gonna play something special for me tonight, Nonnie?”

He rolls his eyes but grins all the same. “You ask me that every night.”

Laying your head on your arms, you look up at him with a pout, “And yet, no romantic song dedications to your favorite Wheelies girl,” you pick your head up and bat your eyes at him, “I’m starting to think you want to break up with me.”

“I promise if I want to end our made-up relationship, I’ll tell you like a real man. Besides,” Vernon laughs and tilts his chin up, looking at something behind you, “I think you’ve been seeing other people. Hotter Wheels if you catch my drift.”

“Heh, I think he hates that name,” you turn, catching sight of Mingyu ducking into the locker rooms to change out and stow his bag, most likely coming straight from hockey practice. Vernon is back to messing with things when you turn, humming, “Lets be real. I only like boys who don’t like me, Nonnie, that’s why you’re the one.”

“What if he’s like you and only goes for girls who don’t want him?”

At that you laugh, preparing to depart as the floor begins to steadily fill again. “Well then, he’ll be lonely forever because I am pretty sure everyone wants him.”

“Including you?”

Very stealthily, you flip him the bird.

Vernon just laughs it off and gets back to work as you skate away, toying with the whistle tied around your neck. You can tell he’s about to get started with his new set when the lights dim and the carpeted walls and floors outside of the polished skate floor start to glow. The little whirls and shapes coming to life with a neon purple hue.

You catch the line piling up at the rental booth but thankfully, it looks like they called in a few extra hands tonight to help there and in concessions which means you get to stay on the floor. Rentals isn’t the worst, that would be birthday party hosting, but you also hate concessions so you don’t put up a fuss when you’re asked to help with skates or in the front on the rare occasion one of the sweet old ladies manning the ticket windows is out.

As more people start piling onto the floor you slow your pace and skate backward for a few feet to check out your surroundings and find teenagers everywhere, loud and wildly unaware of their surroundings. They aren’t too awful this early in the night but you’re sure you’ll have to escort someone off the floor before closing time.

You’ll enjoy your leisurely pace for now and it seems Wonwoo is keen to do the same on the opposite side of the crowd. He weaves in and out of skaters bobbing his head to the music. His glasses are sitting lower on his nose than usual and you’re sure he’s broken them again…or his little brother did and he’s waiting for their exact replacement to come in so he can switch them out without his brother noticing and feeling any more guilty. 

He’s only eight but Wonwoo is his very best friend. They come in on Saturdays together, one of Wonwoo’s only days off, and he teaches his brother to skate for an hour or so before he lets him loose in the arcade and they leave with matching ice cream cones in hand. They even have matching shaggy hairstyles. It’s adorable.

In truth, you’re fond of many of your co-workers but Wonwoo is definitely in your top three for that reason alone. You get along really well with any easy-going personality, it's the same with Vernon. They are both just nice, quiet guys and the exact opposite of the giant shadow hanging over your left shoulder. 

Although, you suppose you get along just fine with him as well.

“Quit checking Wonwoo out, you’re breaking my heart.”

Even before he opened his mouth, the distinct cologne he always wore told you Mingyu was finally on the floor, ready to chase you around for the rest of the night like it was his full-time job. He spent more time trying to charm your pants off than doing what he was actually hired to do but he is so damn charming that he somehow gets away with it.

Besides, this is just a part-time gig for him. Might as well enjoy himself while he’s at it.

When you don’t answer right away, he decides to show off his stupidly impressive hockey maneuvers and he swings around in front of you, casually skating backward without bothering to look behind him. He’s big enough that people can’t miss him and they tend to move out of his path pretty quickly. Now that he sees your face, he’s smirking because you don’t even have it in you to hide your smile tonight. “Oh, that’s pretty,” he coos, “My heart’s healing already.”

You grab his arm to pull his hand away from his chest and he spins around to skate at your side, eyes briefly scanning the floor until they’re back on you. 

“I wasn’t checking him out but believe me… you’re going to be absolutely devastated when Vernon finally admits he’s in love with me. Game over, buddy.”

Mingyu looks wholly unconvinced. “Well, he’s had long enough and you’re going to fall in love with me by the end of the week so…” he pinches his lips together like he’s just delivered the real, honest, awkward truth and you’re battling butterflies in your stomach. 

“End of the week, huh? Are we sure?”

He gets distracted by an increase in volume but for only a moment because Wonwoo is already on it and the quick, sharp sound of his whistle means Mingyu’s full attention is on you again. “That’s what I have circled on my calendar,” he shrugs, “Nothing we can do about it now but let it happen.”

Mingyu’s sense of humor and playful nature are the literal nails in your coffin. You can handle hot with no personality…this one is hot with an overabundance of personality.

You look up at him, probably grinning ear to ear, “Bet you have little hearts doodled all over it with a hot pink gel pen, don’t ya, Hot Wheels?”

He grumbles something under his breath and it makes you snicker. Wonwoo started that one and it seemed to spread throughout the building like wildfire. Now, even the ticket ladies call him Hot Wheels though you’re sure they mean it quite literally whereas Wonwoo was actually just busting Mingyu’s balls about a particularly embarrassing tumble he took.

“Purple gel pen, actually,” he turns and pouts as you both bank around the curve again, “Lost my pink one.”

“Could always steal another one from your little sister.”

At that, he scoffs, the corner of his lips pulled up into a half-smile, “She threw a Barbie car at my head the last time I visited,” he doesn’t even sound upset…it’s more proud than anything, “She reminds me of you sometimes.”

When you go to respond, a young boy accidentally skates too close to you and his wheels knock into yours throwing you both off balance. You catch him by the arm, meeting his panic-stricken eyes, and wait to hit the floor but you rock back against a hard chest and thank all your lucky stars Mingyu was there to save you. The older you get, the harder the floor feels. 

“I’m so sorry!” The boy exclaims once you’re all steady again, “I’m not good at this! I promise I wasn’t trying to take you out!”

His genuine concern is sweet and you laugh it off. “It’s totally okay and nobody got hurt,” you tell him and he takes a deep breath, “Wanna go around together a few times?”

The boy’s eyes shine and he nods his head rapidly. Mingyu drops back a few paces and you hold out your arm, elbow tucked into your side. “Okay,” you pat your forearm, “Hold on here…there you go…and we’re going to push off at the same time with the same foot. Hey, Gyu,” you call over your shoulder and he comes back up to your side, waiting for your instructions, “Will you skate a little ahead of us so he can watch you?”

“For sure,” Mingyu grins, picking up speed until he’s far enough away to slow his pace again and remain ahead of you.

The kid is a bit wobbly but he’s trying really hard and it makes you smile. You remember when you first learned to skate and how intimidating the rink was though you were around eight and he looks to be around fourteen. There wasn’t a floor full of bigger, faster kids to compete with though so you think maybe you got off easier.

“You’re doing great,” you encourage him, “Watch him go around the curve to get a better idea of how to steer yourself.”

Mingyu banks it beautifully, as usual. It’s surprising to most people that someone his size could skate so fluidly especially after learning that he only started playing hockey in his early teens. It was just something he had a natural talent for and trading out blades for wheels hadn’t altered his ability to move with grace whatsoever.

You work through the turn together, a little less smoothly, but you make it around and he lets out a short laugh. “He makes it look so easy.”

“Yeah, well he’s had lots and lots of practice and likes to show off.”

Your eyes settle on Mingyu again and as if he can sense you watching, he turns over his shoulder and winks which is not solely witnessed by you because the kid chuckles, following through the next curve with more confidence. “Is he your boyfriend? He’s kinda cool.”

The question catches you off guard and you laugh, covering your mouth with your free hand. “Not my boyfriend but yeah…I guess he’s kinda cool.”

He looks up at you…almost mischievously you’d think, if you knew him better. “I think he wants to be your boyfriend,” he snickers, “He keeps looking at you.”

You huff out a laugh, placing your hand over his before swinging you both into a stop out of the way. “I’m starting to think this is all a ruse and he’s paying you to put in a good word.”

The kid laughs and shakes his head, “No, I’m just nosey and a really lousy skater,” he says, looking up at Mingyu who’s come over and stopped next to you, “Thanks a lot for helping me out,” he looks a little sheepish, hand reaching around to scratch the back of his neck, “There is this girl at school I like and she’s a figure skater. She asked me out on a date at the ice rink when she comes back from vacation with her family in two weeks and I said yes even though I’m probably going to make a fool of myself. Figured I should start practicing now and falling on wheels is less intimidating than falling with knives on my feet.”

You laugh softly and Mingyu grins, shaking his head. “I admire your dedication to getting the girl, kid. Listen, I coach a youth hockey league at the ice rink down the road and have a free hour a few days a week that I use to practice myself. I’d be happy to teach you if you want.”

The boy’s eyes light up. “That would be so cool!”

Mingyu chuckles, “Alright, awesome. Are one of your parents here with you? I can go talk to them and give them my information.”

“Yeah! My grandma is sitting over there,” he points to the corner where you both make out an older woman sitting alone with a book in hand, surrounded by way too many boisterous young people. 

You meet Mingyu’s eyes and both make a face. “Yikes, okay, let’s go save grandma.”

The boy thanks you again and starts to merge back into the flow of skaters as Mingyu smiles at you, pushing off with a ‘Don’t miss me too much’ and a stupid kissy face. 

His grin is wild and gorgeous when you wiggle your fingers and whisper, “Bye, lover boy.”

Vernon is smiling at you when you reach his booth and you hop up onto the small ledge that allows a good look at the floor as a whole while also giving your legs a needed break. He’s playing one is his 80’s to 90’s pop mixes and tweaking the rotating lights that dance over the skaters until they start changing colors, neon polka dots as far as the eye can see. 

There is a steady exchange of kids coming on and off the floor. Most of the early group heading into the arcade or bombarding the concessions counter while the later crowd takes their place. In between all that, you catch sight of Mingyu speaking with the boy and his Grandma. You don’t even realize that you’re unabashedly smiling at the scene, thinking about how kind and attentive he is when he’s listening. The way he leans in and pulls back, grinning and laughing. 

“Still think you’re not into him?” Vernon says over your shoulder, laughing when you startle.

You purse your lips, eyes wandering back over. “I’m simply admiring his social aptitude,” you flick your eyes back up to Vernon and grin, “Why? Is it making you jealous darling?”

He smirks, “Not yet. Gonna have to try harder.”

“Ugh,” you swoon, hand over your heart, “I love it when you play hard to get.”

Vernon nods his head laughing, “Yeahhhh, I know you do.” Then he notices you’ve got your eye on an issue that needs handling and reaches out to pat the top of your head, “Two more hours and they all have to go home to be someone else’s responsibility. I’ll throw in some of your favorite jams.”

Ten o’clock couldn’t come soon enough but you appreciate his offer and toss out a few songs for consideration though he’s pretty familiar with your tastes. You step back down onto the floor and blow Vernon a kiss when you immediate recognzie the song he’s jumped into…just for you.

 “You really are the best. Check on you in a bit, undercover lover.”

He throws up a peace sign and you cut across the floor to ask a couple of kids who were just blowing and popping bubbles to go spit out their gum as it’s clearly stated that it's not allowed on the floor. They don’t love your request and start to argue but Mingyu sneaks up behind you again and dazzles them with a smile. Just like that, the two young girls start giggling and falling all over themselves to do exactly as asked…all because the pretty guy said ‘Please’. 

It’s comical, honestly. 

Mingyu is smirking when he rolls along beside you, bending at the waist to peek up at your face because it’s aimed at the floor as you try to school your features. He’s so irritatingly flirtatious and you’re too quickly playing into his hand tonight. You’re usually better than this, holding out well until you’re pulling out of the parking lot. 

“Oh, yeah,” he intones, “Tonight is definitely the night. You’re giving in. You can’t resist me any longer. It was bound to happen. You’re still smiling! I can see it!”

Laughing, you pull your head up and give him a look that you would have loved to be firm but it’s not in the slightest. How can you be serious when he is so not serious? “Don’t you dare,” you warn with a loose laugh tacked on at the end, “I told you, we’re not going on a date.”

Mingyu shrugs, “So, movies tomorrow night?”

“Don’t you work tomorrow?”

He bats his eyes with a saccharine smile, “I love that you know my schedule by heart,” he ignores your eye roll, “Wonu’s covering my shift since he owed me one and also because he’s a true romantic. He’s rooting for us and we can’t disappoint him.”

“Well, I suppose if it’s what Wonwoo wants…” you look up at him, eyes glittering with excitement, “When are you picking me up?”

For as calm and cool as Mingyu keeps it on the outside, he’s buzzing on the inside because he’s been toying around with the idea of taking you out forever. And he’s asked…more than once…but you’ve kept him on his toes and he’s enjoyed the playing the game but he’s elated that you’re finally saying yes.

He tries to school is face but he’s still beaming as he tries to casually say, “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Seven?” you snicker, “Isn’t that a little late to get started? You keeping me out all night?”

He just shrugs, grinning. “Maybe.”

Mingyu shows up nearly twenty minutes early and you can see his car outside your condo. He doesn’t make a move to get out and it’s amusing to watch as he nervously drums his fingers on the steering wheel for a few beats before reaching for the door like he’s going to get out, and then shaking his head before resuming the fidgeting. It’s also a relief to know he’s feeling the same jitters you are. 

The thought crossed your mind to pop your head out to wave him inside but he might be giving himself a pep-talk and you’re still contemplating your outfit. 

The movie theater is always so cold. You debated the pros and cons of wearing something short-sleeved because on one hand, if you’re cold it might prompt your date to keep you warm but on the other hand, if he didn’t, you’d be freezing the whole time. 

You could bring a jacket, but that’s an extra thing to carry. 

Digging through your closet, you pull out a fuzzy black long-sleeved sweater. You hold it out, admiring the way it’s cropped a little shorter in the front, and then turn back to the mirror, holding it up to your chest. It would look cute with the Levi’s you’re wearing…decisions, decisions.

A car horn beeps and you peer out of your window seeing Mingyu rigid behind the wheel. You laugh, thinking he probably did not mean to do it and is embarrassed at having accidentally made too much noise. That’s pretty obvious by the way he’s looking around, paranoid and frustrated. It’s actually super cute and you’re lingering by the window now just admiring him from afar without care

Until you see Mingyu cut the engine and get out of the car. Then the panic sets in because you’re still not ready and well…it’s the first time he’s seeing you outside of work and not in uniform. You want him to be wowed and are probably still taking too long to get moving considering how brisk of a stride you know his to be. He’ll be here any second.

You scramble to pull on the sweater in your hands and run into the bathroom to grab your gold hoops, fix your hair, and check your makeup one last time. Your heart is racing but you smile at your reflection. He sees you all the time at work looking not even half as done-up as you are right now and thinks you’re a solid 10, so there isn’t really any doubt he’ll be pleased. Then the doorbell rings. 

A few deep breaths to calm your nerves comes first. When you open the door, Mingyu’s mouth is fixed like he had a line locked and loaded but when he sees you, he chokes on the words. He’s so flustered that he stumbles back a step, laughing at himself. “Oh, you’re not going to take it easy on me, are you?”

That lights you up from the inside out and brings your confidence back around full circle.

“Have I ever made things easy for you?” you snicker, grabbing your purse off the hook by the door, “I think you like a challenge.”

“Nah, I just like you,” he smirks, tongue poking the end of his pointed canine as he watches you close and lock the door, trying his hardest to be respectful, “You look really good. Have I said that yet?”

Stashing your keys in your purse, you turn and grin up at him. “You alluded to it but I wouldn’t mind hearing you say it out loud.”

Always playing and teasing and flirting. It’s almost too much for you both to bear at this point. 

“I’ll tell you as many times as you want,” he says softly but he reaches toward you, slipping his hand just behind your hip to pull you closer with a bold, sharp tug. Startled, you bump right into Mingyu’s chest and look up at him with wide eyes. He doesn’t say anything for a minute and then tilts his head back, sighing into the sky above. He’s mostly amused when he looks back at you.

“You look incredible…and we should get in the car before I ruin the illusion of me being a gentleman.”

“That image has been splintering for a while but I don’t think I’ll mind if a manner or two slips,” you tease as you pull apart, taking the time to look him up and down…

Light-washed jeans, crisp white t-shirt, open flannel hanging off his broad shoulders…”You look really good too,” you murmur in appreciation.

He’s about to sweating straight through his shirt if you keep looking at him like that.

“...yep…time to go,” he mumbles, pinching is lips together as he grabs your hand. He pulls you toward the parking lot which isn’t far, and opens the door for you to slip into his passenger seat. He doesn’t let go until you’re settled and takes it a touch further when he reaches in and grabs the seatbelt before you. His hand purposely grazes against the exposed skin between your pants and top as he buckles you in and you let out the breath you were holding the second he closes your door.

It’s getting more difficult to play hard-to-get by the millisecond but you’re willing to give in first if your reward is Mingyu breaking down bit by bit right in front of you. 

You bite your lip to keep from giggling when he quickly rounds the car and settles into his seat next to you. He’s still shaking his head, quietly laughing at himself for getting so easily worked up. He turns over the engine, shifting into drive, and peers over at you with an air of disbelief. 

“I’m starting to think we’re gonna have to sit in separate rows at this rate.”

Thankfully, the tension melts into easy banter and conversation on the ride to the theater. Mingyu entertains you with stories about his family and asks after yours, specifically your beloved niece whom he loves hearing about. He lets you toy around with his radio and blare some Spice Girls song that neither of you sings along to with the correct pitch…or words. It’s a blast either way.

Bold flirtation aside, Mingyu has always been a gentleman where it counts.

When you arrive at the movie theater, he opens all the doors, holds your hand every chance he gets, pays for your tickets and snacks despite your protesting, and lets you choose where to sit. The theater isn’t very full, though the movie you both decided on has been out for a while so it’s not all that surprising to see so many open seats. There are a few people scattered here and there and you don’t particularly love sitting next to others if you can avoid it. 

That leaves the very front or the very back. 

You glance over your shoulder at Mingyu, patiently waiting for you to decide, “You really don’t care?” 

He shakes his head again with a soft smile and you sigh looking back at the open seats, “I don’t like being super close…are you okay with sitting up top?”

Mingyu’s eyes scan the very empty top rows and widen like he hadn’t actually realized how secluded they were until just now. “Totally cool,” he manages after a moment, “Lead the way.”

“Oh boy,” you whisper to yourself, turning to make your way up the stairs. You have to focus ahead and calculate the distance of each step so you don’t screw up and trip because that would be awfully embarassing. It’s dark, cold, and quiet, and there is a huge gap between the section you’re headed toward and the next closest couple sitting in the middle. 

The very last row was almost too intimidating as if it somehow was the designated spot reserved for horny, depraved teenagers, and you were mid-twenty adults…so you stopped once you hit the second to last row and cut in a few seats before deciding that sitting in the middle was also weird so you dropped into the fourth seat from the aisle and forced yourself to stay put. 

PIcking a seat and sticking with it has never been so daunting before.

Mingyu doesn’t say anything at all about your choice, much to your relief. If he cracked a joke about it, you think you might just burst at the seams. He just sits down in the seat next to you folding his very large frame into the too-tight space between the armrests. You’re both quiet as the lights dim and the previews start rolling but you can still feel him wiggling and adjusting himself next to you.

Your eyes meet when he accidentally bumps your arm and you smile at the fact that he is genuinely embarrassed, for no reason at all other than unintentionally taking up extra space. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, “I don’t remember the seats feeling this cramped.”

“It’s really okay,” you turn, tucking his elbow safely into his side as you lift the armrest between you to give him more room, “We can share.”

“Are you sure?” his eyes seek yours again in the darkness, “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You quietly snicker at his worry when he was the one being so brazen with your proximity earlier. At the same time, you can appreciate his consideration and reassure him with a gentle smile. “I really don’t mind…the extra body heat is appreciated.”

You can feel the moment Mingyu lets the tension flow out of his body. His shoulders relax until your arms touch lightly, his legs spread a little further apart as he sinks into his seat, firm thigh now pressed to the outside of your own. He’s warm and his cologne, as usual, is so rich and alluring that you know you’re going to be fighting the urge to mold yourself to his side for the next hour and a half. 

Surprisingly, the movie isn’t half bad even though it was one you chose because every other film out was either super sad or overtly romantic and neither genre felt like a good fit for a first date. ‘Black Mask’ had a decent balance of action scenes and suspense that pretty easily kept your eyes on the screen, at least for a little while, sharing sour gummy worms and a soda between the two of you. 

Your attention began to wane after the third time you bumped hands with Mingyu and it was lost entirely when he decided to simply hold your hand instead. Movie plot gone in an instant.

Instead of the screen, your eyes fall to your joined hands resting in his lap. They climb up to his chest, slowly rising and falling with each measured breath. Carefully, you let them slide higher, admiring the shadows projected over his throat and jaw. Higher to admire his handsome face. Higher again, just to get a little more of him, and when you get there, you find him staring back.

Neither of you shy away this time. Mingyu nervously licks his lips and his eyes flit down to yours, only for a second, just to reassure himself that you’re both on the same wavelength even though the chemistry between you has always been pretty clear. He still hesitates before he leans closer but you’re done waiting and choose to kiss him first. 

It’s soft, brief, and when you part, you can see the smile on his handsome face and it brings the butterflies in your stomach back to life all over again. He cups your cheek and pulls you back into another kiss, and then another, and another. A million times you’d thought about kissing Mingyu and this was still far better than any you’d imagined thus far.  

Actually kissing him highlights the small details you were missing. The bits of it that are unique and a part of him only. It’s the way his thumb strokes against your cheek, how he tilts his face and changes his angle so fluidly that you follow him like it’s completely natural, the tender way he’s slow to let go of your bottom lip and how he kisses it afterward. 

It’s certainly not your first kiss or even the first time you’ve made out with someone at the movies, but this feels entirely new. Mingyu is not some hopped up, horny kid. He takes his time with you, he’s gentle, patient. It’s not sloppy or rushed. He isn’t trying to clumsily cop a feel the whole time, though, you think you’d probably let him and that he wouldn’t fumble around at all. It feels like he knows exactly what he’s doing, even if he doesn’t.

You hope that you feel natural to him too.

He pulls back with a slow hum of appreciation and that’s good enough for you.. When your eyes meet, you’re both smiling, and Mingyu takes that as his good sign. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and tucks you into his side until he feels your body relax against his and you finish the movie just like that. 

Well, you’re both looking at the screen but you’re more focused on the way he continues to kiss your hair every few minutes and he’s locked on to the feeling of your nails gently drawing a line up and down his thigh. 

Eventually, the lights come on and you’re a little slow to untangle as the rest of the theater clears out. It’s entirely empty by the time either of you hit the stairs. 

“Soooo,” Mingyu hums, trailing behind you half a step, “Thoughts…opinions…? On the movie, of course.”

You laugh without turning around and nod your head, “Right…the movie, yeah. Just as the trailer promised,” you focus on your feet moving a step at a time and not tripping, “Perfectly executed action sequences.”

He grins to himself, tucking his chin into his chest. “I’m glad it lived up to all the hype,” he balances his weight on one foot before taking the next step, “Nothing worse than all that anticipation ending in disappointment.”

You peer over your shoulder at him, smiling coyly, “Oh, no disappointment here. I’m sure i’ll be thinking about it for quite some time.”

He huffs out a laugh, “Are we talking about the movie or the kiss?”

“What kiss?” you smirk, quickly turning around to hurry down the rest of the steps but he’s right behind you the whole way.

Just as you whip around the corner and into the dim hallway that leads to the exit, Mingyu catches you around the waist and pins you up against the wall. You can feel his heart thudding under your palms, the thrill of excitement hardly contained in his chest as his lips crash into yours. 

Disappointment is so very far from your realm of feeling at the moment. Any expectation you had, which admittedly was already pretty high, was shattered and elevated yet another level each time his tongue danced across the seam of your lips or when his hands made another pass over your body.

From the beginning, you theorized that Mingyu was more than just a smooth talker. You had him pegged as a man with follow-through and you’re simply rolling in it, knowing you were right, and now you’re experiencing it for yourself which makes things that much more gratifying. 

Mingyu was a certified lover boy. Called and confirmed it.

The very best part, you think to yourself as you feel him grin against your lips, is that he’s yours…or at least, he wants to be. You don’t have to let him know he’s already won.

He’s still smiling when you slide your hands over his arms, pointedly squeezing the ample muscle there, and he finishes you off with a few final, fluttering kisses. 

When your eyes meet, there is a buzz of nervous laughter and Mingyu again asks, “So, the movie or the kiss?”

Your gaze drifts back down to his mouth and your stomach twists torturously when his knowing smirk reveals a prettily pointed canine. The same that’s bitten into your bottom lip a few times already this evening. You look back up and narrow your eyes playfully, “I don’t recall any kissi-”

He leans back down, slotting his lips against yours and the second he so much as breathes the door at the end of the hall clicks open and you hear two voices, likely the staff coming to clean the theater, and here you two delinquints are still splattered against the wall playing tonsil hockey. 

Mingyu freezes and your eyes are wide as saucers. “Go, go around the other way!”

You have to slip out from under his frame and drag him a few feet before his mind catches up and you’re both scrambling back across the theater to the exit on the opposite side. As quietly as you can, you peek out of the small window to make sure the coast is clear and pop the door open for you both to come tumbling out. 

The wide corridor outside the theater is mercifully empty but the adrenaline in your bodies’ leaves you jogging toward the side exit, laughter bubbling up and out into the open space around you. It’s all so silly and exhilarating, and when Mingyu grabs your hand, pulling you through the doors out into that warm summer air, you’re sure you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt so…alive. 

Or maybe there is just something about the moon and stars, and the way their enchanting glow seems to make everything in their wake just a little more beautiful. He’s one of those things - bright, beautiful, feathered and soft around the edges. 

You’ve stopped to catch your breath but it remains trapped in your chest the longer you look at him. It’s suddenly a little heavy, this crush of yours, weighed down by impression of his hands on your hips, your face, the small of your back. Flirting and teasing was easy. Agreeing to finally go out with him was easy. Realizing the potential for more was real and standing in front of you was a shock to your system because you’re uncovering very quickly how much you want that with him.

“We should definitely go to dairy queen.”

It takes a minute to process his words and then with a little shake, you lift your head to find Mingyu smiling back down at you. “Feels like the movie might have left you with a lot to think about and nothing helps me sort through my head quite like ice cream.”

You cock your head to the side, the tension in your chest evaporating just like that.

“Have you always this charming?”

“When I put in the extra effort, which is only for you, sure,” he chuckles, using your joined hands to pull you a little closer as you walk alongside eachother through the parking lot, “I’m not everyone’s cup of tea though.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” you scoff, bumping into his arm with your shoulder, “Everyone loves you. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.”

His tongue pokes into his cheek, rolling his eyes skyward, “You missed the guy I had to escort out of the rink a couple weeks ago who took a few swings at me in the parking lot. Pretty sure he was not enthralled by my dazzling smile and strapping good looks.”

“One person…that’s all you got?”

Reaching his car, Mingyu opens the passenger door for you and waits until you’re seated and looking up at him expectantly. He licks his lips and smirks, “Buckle up, you’re in for a ride.”

After grabbing ice cream, you decided making your date drive over to the shore was favorable to sitting on the sticky red tables outside the DQ, so instead, you’re sitting side by side on a small gym towel he miraculously had in his trunk, eating your deserts and swapping stories to the tune of the gentle waves crashing ashore. 

So far, you’ve learned that the sole reason Mingyu got into hockey in the first place was because he was in constant trouble as a kid…in school, at home, or literally anywhere else he happened to be. His poor mother tried to put him in every sport and hobby she could think of to keep him busy and out of trouble but baseball wasn’t a fit, basketball ended in another fist fight and suspension, football benched a few and landed one kid in the hospital, and any form of martial arts was out of the question. 

Finally, she found an ad in the newspaper for boy’s hockey team tryouts and the rest was history. You can clearly hear the admiration in his voice when he spoke about his original coach and his teammates. How it was touch and go from the start but no matter how much hot water he found himself in, they wouldn’t quit on him. When he realized that, he started pouring all of his pent up energy into the game and it changed him in all the best ways. It’s the whole reason he coaches today…to be someone who can make a positive change in a kid’s life the way his coach did for him.

Honestly, it’s hard to imagine Mingyu as anything other than the kind, gentle, playful guy you know him to be but everyone grows and changes. He still has a wild sort of glint in his eyes at times that lead you to believe every word he’s said about his younger years. 

The sea breeze is crisp and almost a little chilly despite the warm air it mixes with so you push a little closer into Mingyu’s side and he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Cold?”

“A bit,” you roll your head toward him, resting it against the crook of his shoulder, “Kinda just wanted to be close to you again…despite your delinquent past, I think I like you a little.”

“A little?” he smirks, eyes darting to your mouth briefly, “I think you like me a lot.”

Scrunching your nose, you make a face at him and he tosses his head back and laughs. 

“If you don’t admit it soon I’m going to have to make a huge, probably embarrassing,  for you, romantic gesture,” he counters, looking very half-serious, “A big old fashioned declaration of love…in public…loudly.”

“You’re still a little shit, aren’t you?”

“Don’t pretend you aren’t loving the reformed bad boy thing.” He’s spot on because Mingyu is the exact kind of guy you would have had a crush on back then too. 

You let out a long sigh and pick your head up, leaning to the side to bury your now-empty cup in the sand so it doesn’t blow away just like Mingyu had on his side. In the process, Mingyu slips his arm a little lower on your back, his hand curled around your hip to keep you balanced. You love every single point of contact so you fall right back into his side when you sit up again.

“To be fair, I think you’re only partly reformed,” more smirking, “Mhm, that’s exactly what I mean,” you hum in amusement, “Listen, I’ll give in…just a little…and admit that there are a lot of things I love about you..”

“I’m listening,” he purrs, ready for the boost in confidence you’re surely about to give him. Anything that could even vaguely resemble a compliment would send him over the moon coming from you. 

“I love the way…you genuinely enjoy helping people,” you start quietly, soothing the subtle nerves beginning to tingle in your fingertips, “I love that you put so much time and effort into coaching your kids and how much you love talking about them…how you’ll roll your eyes and shake your head telling me stories about them and yet you always finish with a smile because ‘they’re a handful but they’re good kids’”

Mingyu snorts softly and you knowingly ask, “There’s lots of little Mingyu’s on your team, aren’t there?”

He nods slowly, pushing the tip of his tongue against his teeth. “Ohhh yeahhh,” he breathes out with a light chuckle, “I understand now why my coach made me run drills until I dropped. I’ve got a couple that have already outshined my reputation at their age and some days it’s a battle of wills but they’ve come along way,” he ducks his head, grinning, “Hoping they’re the extent of my karma and it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass when I have kids one day.”

He makes a face right after he says it and looks down at you almost apologetically, “Was that weird to say on a first date? I feel like that’s something you’re supposed to avoid but you’re easy to talk to and words just fall out of my mouth sometimes.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you laugh, quirking an eyebrow at him, “I know it’s a first date but we’re not strangers, besides, I’ve always just assumed you were a family kind of guy. You talk about yours all the time, super close with your little sister, and from all i’ve witnessed, you’re just kinda great with kids in general,” you shrug, easing his worry, “I promise, it’s not a shock to me that you’d want your own and I’ll save you the torture of wondering whether to ask or not…yes, I’d like to have kids someday. Someday farrrrr away in the future.”

“Oh, good,” he chuckles, “Me too...lightyears away.”

It’s not on either of your radars currently but it’s nice to know that you have common goals for the future. It leaves a brief pause in the conversation, though not an uncomfortable one. Just a quiet moment to soak things in. 

First date, first kiss(es), and it’s all going…perfectly. 

It’s one thing to flirt and banter with a cute co-worker but taking the leap and going on a date together is a whole different game. There are very real feelings on both sides of the court and the potential for something real and permanent is so palpable you can feel it pushing you closer to one another. Leap again. Put yourself out there and trust the other will catch you.

Mingyu breaks the silence first and you feel his fingers twitch against your back. 

“I really like you,” he says steadily, like that was the easy part, “I think you’re beautiful inside and out, stop laughing i’m being serious,” he grins and you try to reel it in for his sake, “My first day on the job I was blatantly called out and laughed at by Wonwoo after he caught me spacing out and staring at you for the third time…I don’t think I even made it an hour into my shift before I was hooked.”

“Oh, I thought you were being serious?” you grin.

“Shhhh,” he counters, “I’m not done.”

“Where was I? Oh yeah…you’re a good friend and a good person, and I like having you in my life,” he says softly, picking up your hand and pulling it into his lap, “I want to bring you home to meet my family so my mom can drag out the photo albums the way she’s always joked about doing while my sister spends the whole time telling you embarrassing things about me. They would like like you a lot. The boys on my team already like you.”

“Oh?”

He laughs, “Oh yeah, they’re always in my business and I made the mistake of bringing you up at a practice once so you’re a regular topic of discussion. I should have known I was doomed from then on and they’re brutal sometimes. One kid called me a loser because he’s fourteen and has a girlfriend and I don’t.”

“Is that how you’re asking me out? Trying to get the sympathy vote because you’re getting picked on by a bunch of kids?” you smirk.

“Maybe…is it working?” he asks, gaze dipping to your mouth for the millionth time tonight.

“I don’t know yet,” you inch a little closer, “Maybe you should try softening me up a little more before you ask again.”

He pauses, hovering just a breadth away from your face and his open mouth pulls into a sly grin, “By any means necessary?”

“Do what you have to do I suppos-”

“Niiccceee hickey.”

You slap a hand over the mark you swore you’d covered well enough with concealor, apparently not, and whip your head in Vernon’s direction. “Can you not announce it loud enough for everyone to hear?”

Vernon glances side to side. “There is literally no one except us in here and that thing announced itself.”

“What thing?” 

Wonwoo comes in and drops his bag on the wooden bench, pulling out his uniform top to shrug over his shoulders. His glasses sit askew on his face and you really hope he’s got good insurance because they’re always in awful shape. 

You turn and press your forehead against the cool metal of your locker door and Vernon chuckles, stowing his things noisely. “The physical evidence to prove that her date went abundantly well.”

Wonwoo smirks, walking closer to pry your hand away from your neck. He whistles. “Damn, Mingyu’s a biter…not surprised. Good luck hiding that thing - it’s going to be with you for a while.”

“Ok. Hickey expert. Thanks for your input,” you grumble.

He shrugs. “We all have interests and hobbies, and you’re welcome.”

You roll your eyes and turn around, leaning back against your locker with a pout. “I’m kinda nervous that we’re working together tonight for the first time since we went out. Do you think it will be weird?” 

Vernon makes a goofy face. “Why would it be weird? I thought you said everything went well and you’re like, dating now? Did something happen?”

“No, everything was great,” you slump down a little further, “Like…too great. I’m trying not to jinx things or be weird. Are we too old to call each other boyfriend and girlfriend? Is that a thing for adults? Or did we grow out of that after high school?”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, fixing the notch on his belt, “No, we’re not too old for that. He’s your boyfriend. You’re his girlfriend. Simple.”

“Is it?” you reply with a unintentional snap that doesn’t phase either of them.

Vernon sits on the bench in front of you and stretches his back out, groaning like an old man. “Yes, simple. You like him and he likes you, and you have fun together. I fail to see the problem.”

“Yeah, that’s like, the opposite of a problem,” Wonwoo agrees, “Besides…being left alone in the rink after hours sounds mighty convenient if you ask me.”

Snapping your jaw shut, your eyes widen, “What exactly are you suggesting?”

Wonwoo smirks, “I’m not suggesting anything but an opportunist would use their imagination.”

Both you and Vernon peg Wonwoo with a suspicious stare.

“With all due respect,” you say slowly, your eyebrow steadily raising with each word, “I didn’t think you rolled like that.”

“Neither did I,” Vernon adds, equally intrigued.

“You’re kind of a freak, aren’t you?”

“Who’s a freak?”

All three of you startle and whirl around to see Mingyu coming through the door. His hair is wet, likely freshly showered after hockey practice, and he’s looking at each of you with a clueless grin. 

“Nothing and no one!” you reply with a grin, already floating toward the hunk in the doorway, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he grins down at you, “I see you and I got stuck closing tonight.” 

You swallow down the knot in your throat and hold up a middle finger behind your back directed at Vernon and Wonwoo’s snickering. 

“Yep,” you bounce on your toes, “Just you and I…closing everything down…together…tonight.”

Mingyu’s lips pinch together to hold in a laugh. You were always so bold and confident when it came to teasing him and now, he can tell you’re having to make a great effort to hold it all together. “I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it fun,” he chooses, satisfied when your eyes widen just a touch, “I think Jim’s looking for you by the way. If you’re done getting-” 

“Yes,” you squeeze his arms and then move past him at lightening speed, rushing out the door. 

Mingyu just stands there and laughs quietly before looking up to see the grin on Vernon and Wonwoo’s faces. “Alright, how much did she tell you?”

“Didn’t have to tell us much at all.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “The bite marks you left told us everything we needed to know.”

Mingyu’s eyes drop to the floor as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. He’s glad the ones you left on him are covered by his collar because he just barely got away with blaming it on equipment mishandling when one of the older boys in his youth league pointed one out with a mischievous laugh.

Vernon claps a hand over his shoulder on his way out the door causing Mingyu to look back up again. “Happy for you, dude. She’s a good one.”

Mingyu smiles softly, “Thanks, man.”

When he leaves, Mingyu pushes further into the room and starts getting himself situated, glancing over at Wonwoo every now and then like he’s waiting for him to say something.

“I can feel you staring,” Wonwoo mumbles, eyes now glued to his Game Boy Pocket as he tries to save his progress from earlier.

Mingyu shrugs his shoulders up to his ears, pushing his bag into his locker. 

Wonwoo puts his game down and looks up. “Whaddaya want, Hot Wheels?”

He pauses, making a face at the nickname, and then carefully asks, “On a scale of one to ten, how bad of an idea is it for me to-”

“Make a move tonight?”

Mingyu’s mouth pops open. “Oh,” he blinks, “You read minds too?”

Wonwoo sighs and leans back a touch, both hands gripping the edge of the bench beneath him. “To be fair, that’s exactly what I’d be thinking about if I were in your position. Empty building…gorgeous girlfriend…”

Mingyu scoffs, “Alright, easy…”

He gets a smirk in return and Wonwoo stands, stretching his long limbs. “I’m not wrong and also not interested in your girl so relax,” he leans down and tugs on the laces of his skates and then straightens out, “You both think too much. Just be normal. Do the same lovey dovey, flirty shit you always do and see how the night goes.”

“You’re kind of good at this,” Mingyu compliments, his lips pulling into a half-smirk, “What do you get up to when you’re off the clock and not playing big brother of the year?”

Nearing the door, Wonwoo just turns over his shoulder and tosses Mingyu a wink.

He’s handed out enough advice for one night.

You were still jittery when Mingyu joined you out on the floor but falling into the same routine was pretty simple, just like Vernon and Wonwoo said, and it took loads of anxious tension off your shoulders. If anything, Mingyu was more playful with his teasing and a little more bold with his physical affection when others weren’t paying attention. 

It was like a game of how flustered he could make you without getting in trouble for fooling around on the job. The floor was crowded which simply meant he got to stay a little closer to you without looking suspicious which allowed him to find out how fun it was to pull you around by the belt loops of your pants. 

He loved the little noise of surprise you let out every time he snuck up behind you, hooking his finger through the loop to tug you back against his chest where he pretended to tell you something important. Like he was just trying to talk to you over the sound of the music when he had nothing but more teasing to whisper in your ear. 

The hours flew by unnoticed and before long, you were bidding your last goodbyes to the rest of the staff having finished their own cleaning and closing duties. 

Mingyu went into the office to toy with the audio system after you asked to throw something on just so it wasn’t silent in the big dark building while you followed Vernon and Wonwoo to the doors to lock up after them. 

Vernon shifts his bag on his shoulder and cuts a sideways glance in your direction. “You gonna be okay?”

You shrug, touched and confused he’d asked. “Yeah, I’ve closed up a million times. All good.”

Wonwoo pats the top of your head like a puppy. They both have a habit of that.

“He meant, are you gonna be okay here alone with Mingyu? Are you comfortable with us leaving - not that I think he’d ever do something to hurt or upset you…I’d kill him and he knows it…but you give us the word and we’ll stay.”

“Oh,” you blink and wave your hands dismissively, “No, we’re good! I was just worried about being a loser earlier but we’re totally fine!”

“We thought so,” Vernon grins, pushing the glass door open, “Just checking.”

It’s sweet and embarrassing that they’d thought to ask and you tell them as much as you gently push Vernon through the doorway. “Thought for a minute you were finally ready to confess,” you joke, fake pout on your lips and all, “I’ll drop him like a hot potato if you ask, Nonnie.”

Wonwoo follows him out and laughs, “You’re full of shit but I’m sure he appreciates the sentiment. By the way, if you find yourself in need…Jihoon keeps condoms in his locker.”

You slap a hand over your mouth, covering your shocked laughter. “First of all, mind your business and second, what the hell?!”

Vernon shrugs, “Man likes to be prepared I guess!”

….Line cooks are one of a kind. Truly.

You’re shaking your head as they wave goodbye and walk off toward Wonwoo’s car as it must have been his turn to carpool. Pulling the doors shut, you carefully lock each one and double check them before turning on your heel and then the music cuts on over the speakers. It’s not crazy loud but enough to keep the odd sounds that accompany a big old building from rattling in your ears. 

Mingyu pops his head out of the office when you round the corner and you cock your head in question, “Beastie Boys?”

“Couldn’t get the discs to work so radio it is,” he shrugs, “I can find something else if you want.”

You shake your head, brushing past his shoulder into the small office to sit down and reconcile the financials for the night. “I’m not picky. Did you already grab the bags from the registers?”

He nods, “Yep, everything’s there and Jim left the keys for the safe in the desk,” Mingyu squeezes your shoulders when you sit down and you smile up at him. “I’m going to knock out the kitchen and rental walk-throughs while you count if that’s okay? After that we will just have shut down the arcade and I can take out the left over trash bags.”

“That would be amazing,” you tell him, head still cushioned against the office chair as you smile lazily up at him, “I just love a man that knows how to take charge and get the job done.”

He immediately chokes out a laugh and turns on his heel muttering something about how ‘he’s not going to get anything done if you keep that up’ as he walks away.

It takes another full minute to bring the task at hand back into focus and you have to consciously fight off the intrusive inappropriate thoughts clouding your brain when it’s supposed to be crunching numbers. You even have to recount a few bags because the image of Mingyu sitting you on the desk you’re working at to do dirty things with you keeps popping into your head and it’s getting harder and harder to focus. After probably twice the amount of time it usually takes you to do the financials, you’re finally done and locking the safe when Mingyu returns. 

“Oh, hey,” you perk up when you notice him in the doorway, “Ready to go do the arcade?”

“Already done,” he snickers, “I came back after walk-throughs and caught you cursing and restarting your counts so I just went ahead and finished up the list.”

“Oh!” you shift on your feet, “...guess we’re all done then.”

Mingyu crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame looking extra swoon-worthy. Not a single poster of your favorite 80s and 90s heartthrobs plastered to the walls of your old bedroom held a candle to the picture in front of you and he knows it. 

“You sound disappointed. I’m sure we could find other things to do if you wanna stay a little longer,” his eyes shift over to the audio system, still playing a mix of alternative and pop hits, and fixes his eyes back on you, “Ever considered making out with someone in an empty skating rink with No Doubt playing over the speakers?”

“Can’t say I have. What about you?”

Mingyu grins, shifting his weight to tower over you, “Thought just now crossed my mind.”

He slides one hand beneath your jaw and the other over your hip, slotting his lips against yours as he walks you back until you bump into the desk behind you. After teasing you with your belt loops all night, you decide to return the favor, licking at the seam of his lips as you hook your fingers in his front loops and pull him closer. He laughs against your lips and pulls back to meet your eyes. “That’s my move.”

“I liked it, so I think I’ll steal it,” you smirk, tugging at the loops still.

“We should probably get our things and head out before I do something stupid and incredibly irresponsible,” he chuckles though there is a very real edge to his tone like he’s trying hard to behave himself right now.

“What kind of stupid and irresponsible things?” you test him, releasing his belt loops to hook your index finger into the waist band of his pants instead, “I might be interested.”

The hand on your hip squeezes and he bites out a laugh. “Who’s the delinquent now?”

“Still you, but I recounted those bags because I kept getting interrupted by steamy office fantasies popping into my head so if you’d rather take me home before we make questionable decisions, we should probably leave now.”

He groans, torn between having to wait or giving in and having you right here, right now. The cons would be that it’s A.) your work place, B.) it’s not the cleanest place to hook up, and C.) he has to wait when his body is begging him otherwise.

As luck has it, you decide for him.

“Can we go to your place? My roommate is home tonight and she’s got hard rules against hooking up when the other is home. She doesn’t even really like when I have friends over but her name is on the lease so I don’t argue much.”

Mingyu shuts off his internal debate processing, grateful to have you choose for the both of you. “My roommates work the late shift at the bar on 89th so they will probably come home at some point but they don’t care about guests…or girlfriends. We respect that rule in regards to privacy.”

“Ugh,” you rolls your eyes, relaxing in his hold, “That must be so nice. Got an extra room at your place?”

“Got plenty of space for you in mine,” he smirks, “Alright let me grab our bags from the locker room and we’ll get out of here. Did you drive?”

You shake your head, moving to turn off the audio system, “No, I took the bus today.”

“Sweet, we’ll take my car home and won’t have to worry about leaving yours.”

It’s funny how you’re both being so casual at the moment as if you weren’t pinned up against the desk, debating whether you should desecrate the business office, and now you’re both going about your normal routines as if you didn’t just agree that you’re leaving to go directly to his place to hook up for the first time. 

It catches up with you when Mingyu pulls up to the front of his shared beach house and cuts the engine. You look at the light blue house and catch the subtle sounds of the ocean not far off. “I had no idea you lived on the island,” you share as you get out of the car and walk together toward the door. 

Mingyu hands you the key and takes your bag so you can open the door. “Yeah, we’ve been here about a year now. Used to share a condo a little further in but we spend a lot of time at the beaches here so when this place opened up we snagged it as quick as we could.”

Pushing inside, it’s exactly what you imagine a triad of bachelors to live in. Everything is clean but the couch is a futon, there are two cd towers filled with music you’d love to check out, a few bean bag chairs, a stereo system big enough to take up half a wall, and theres a couple of empty corona bottles spread on the low table in the living room next to a few gaming controllers. 

Mingyu groans when he sees them and glances over apologetically. “I definitely asked them to clean those up when I left this morning. You’d think a couple of bartenders would know how to recycle empty beer bottles. I swear we have manners.”

You laugh and follow him to what you assume is his bedroom down the hall. He opens the door and drops both bags next to his dresser before flicking on a lamp. “Wasn’t expecting to bring you back here so I am glad my cleaning habits are something of use,” he pulls open a drawer and grabs a random t-shirt before handing it to you, “Here, you can wear this if you want and I’ll show you where the bathroom is…I just uhhh..I thought maybe you’d be more comfortable changing out of your uniform.”

You raise a brow at him, “What? My Dickies and pinstrip ref polo aren’t sexy enough for you?”

He smirks back, “Anything you wear is sexy enough for me but the sex and dating column in Cosmopolitan’s spring magazine says a woman’s comfort comes before all else and is the key to a healthy, thriving relationship.”

“You read Cosmo?” 

He shrugs, “Had to pick my mom and sister up at the hair salon and got there on time which was apparently thirty minutes early. There was nothing else to do.”

“Learn anything else?” you ask just before he leaves you at the bathroom door.

Mingyu tugs the frosty bleached tips of his hair. “Learned six new ways to accesorize with butterfly clips and that my horoscope for last month was only half correct,” he grins, “Let me know if you need anything, babe, i’m gonna use the other bathroom to clean up.”

You mumble back an OK and shut the door, bumping into the counter. “Babe?” you repeat quietly, looking at yourself in the mirror. 

The reality of you having a super-hot-hockey-player boyfriend who is also insanely sweet and volunteers his free time to coach a youth league, and is an amazing kisser, and the kind of guy that calls you babe, crashes into you completely and you’re scrambling to clean yourself up, change, steal some mouthwash, and give yourself a full pep talk before you emerge god knows how long later. 

Following the same path back to Mingyu’s room, you pause at the door and take a deep breath before re-entering his space. 

He’s laying in his bed tossing a small blue ball up and down with one hand while he waits. You’re pleased to see that he decided not to put a shirt on, lounging only in a pair of basketball shorts, because you also decided to ditch half your clothing. The opposite half.

The ball lands in his palm with an audible smack and he looks up when you step into his room, closing the door behind you. 

“Wait right there,” he throws out a hand as you take a step closer and you hesitate, “I just want to burn this image into my memory for all of eternity.” 

Rolling your eyes with a soft laugh, you walk the rest of the way over to Mingyu who reaches for your hand and pulls you up onto his bed to straddle his lap comfortably. His hands move up and down your thighs and he’s smiling at you all the while. “You’re so beautiful,” he sighs and then shakes his head when you try to brush him off. “Genuinely. I’m not just saying that to get in your pants. You’re not even wearing pants to get into.”

He’s amusing and captivating when he’s like this, hands exploring every inch of exposed skin, chest pressed against yours, his face turned up as he looks at you with that white-hot gaze. It further drives your need to touch and feel him so you wrap your arms around his shoulders loosely, letting your fingers dance over the muscle in his back. 

Mingyu’s eyes flutter closed, only for a moment as your nails trail over his spine, and you smile to yourself, overjoyed with the feeling of his body beneath yours.  

“This feels a little surreal,” you speak quietly and he hums in response, setting his eyes back on your face, “I mean…”

“Ahhhhhh,” he grins, lacing his fingers together where his hands rest on your lower back, kept warm under your shirt, “Because you’ve been dreaming about me every night since we met?”

“Something like that,” you sigh and Mingyu shuts up, not expecting you to give in so easily. You pinch the hair at the nape of his neck tugging it nervously, “You should probably kiss me before I say something even more embarrassing.”

Mingyu chuckles and his eyes dip to your mouth. He captures your lips easily, moving his hands against the planes of your back as he kisses you until your mind clouds over. 

His hair is soft between your fingers, the silly frosted ends tickling your skin when you give a little experimental tug. Wonwoo teased him endlessly for falling for the fad but you had to admit you liked it on him. 

You’d probably like anything on him though. Besides, it wasn’t long before Wonwoo broke down and tried it too albeit a bit more subtle and less Backstreet Boys. 

Mingyu braces his forearm behind your hips and tugs. His skin is hot and he keeps you still against him, not like you plan on shifting away, but the need to be touched, held…anchored to him is met without needing to ask. It feeds into your confidence allowing you to move more freely, rolling your hips, arching your back until your chest is pushing into his and he just can’t stand the fabric in the middle. 

The shirt he’d given you doesn’t even fully hit the ground before his arms are wrapped around your body again and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, lips trailing over your throat, shoulders, collar bones. Whatever he can reach without letting go. 

A sharp gasp hits the air when his tongue dips to the base of your throat and he closes his lips over that same spot with a kiss. Thighs trembling, you hope he doesn’t comment on the pathetic way your cunt squeezes around nothing. He says nothing though. Instead, he groans deep in his chest and his hands tighten possesively. 

Then he does it again, and again. He encourages your real, raw reactions, full intending to pull them from you until you let go of whatever mental block is keeping you from letting him know exactly how much you love the way he makes you feel. 

Pretty soon he succeeds and you’re no longer trying to hold yourself together, holding your breath, or trying to be quiet. 

Mingyu drags his teeth along your collarbones and grins at the soft hum you let out, so at odds with the way your body jumps at the sharp sensation. 

“You like that, huh?”

It take an extra few seconds to process his words, brain near mush from his attention.

“So you do like it,” Mingyu laughs, pecking a small kiss to your shoulder, “What else do you like?”

You’ve only just now formed a response to his first question and now he’s asking another and he’s smirking. It’s almost like he’s doing it on purpose…

Your mouth pops open to say something, what that might have been, you’ll never know because at the same time, Mingyu leans back a little and drags your hips over his, grinding his erection against your sensitive cunt. “You like that?”

At this point, you give up on words and just nod your head fervently. Yes, I fucking like that.

His hands ghost up your sides until his thumbs are brushing against your breasts. He pauses, testing the water before diving in, and he catches the hitch in your breath. The way your head drops back just a touch like all this is making you a little dizzy. He leans forward and presses a kiss against your sternum before falling back against the pillows to take in the full picture. 

You, perched in his lap with your back arched, pushing your aching breasts into his hands to play with. It’s the exact shit he’s fallen victim to in a wet dream but this is real and far better because here you are, in the flesh, gripping onto his wrists and rocking your hips against him for an inkling of relief from how much he’s turned you on.

It’s wearing his patience down and is going to bite him in the ass if he doesn’t move things along. He prematurely finished one time and it still haunted him at night. Never again.

Hopefully.

Mingyu makes a miraculous maneuver, with you landing on your back at his side, somehow, without twisting or pinning someone’s limb in the process. 

“That was very smooth.”

You’re staring back up at him in wonder, partly because you’re not used to being tossed around like that, but also because he’s looking down at you with a serious, heated expression and it’s making your heart beat a little too fast.

“Can I touch you?” he askes softly and you’re immediately nodding. “Yeah?” he mimics the motion in a daze, eyes glued to your mouth, “Come here.”

Easy. You kiss him, well, it’s pretty equal efforts but you get to him first, too impatient to wait even half a second more. His hand moves over your hip slowly, then shifts to brush against your naval where he rests it for a moment, heat from his skin seeping into yours. 

He’s planning on making good on his request, though you beat him to it again. 

Mingyu parts his lips with a sigh when he feels your hand slide over his. Your fingers curl around his palm and you guide his hand lower. He asked to touch you and then made you wait - whether it be on purpose or just his own nerves - you’ll help him help you.

He doesn’t seem to mind and rewards you instantly with his thick fingers rubbing against your cunt through your panties. Your mouth falls open with a soft moan and his brows knit together right as the sound hits his ears. His gaze is unwavering and you almost wish he would just kiss you again instead of studying your face this closely…then his middle finger presses down a little harder and the sound you let out that time makes the corner of his mouth turn up into a half-smirk. 

It doesn’t even slip away when he leans down and kisses you, his smirk still obviously tugging at his lips when they touch yours. His hand pushes inside your underwear and he groans into your mouth when he feels how wet and warm you are but he doesn’t have time to waste or savor the feeling because he needs you to cum on his fingers at least once before he fucks you and his will to wait it out is all but gone. 

You’re responsive to every stroke, gasping and whimpering, digging your nails into his arm. Your back arches up off the bed every time he pumps his fingers faster, rubbing them up against your g-spot with expert ease because, hell yeah he reads cosmo, he’s too fucking good at it to not have been guided by the devine-feminine mind. 

Mingyu’s mouth envelopes one of your nipples and his tongue rolls against it at almost the same pace and pattern he’s rubbing your own slick into your clit and that’s enough to send you over the edge. He tries to be patient, to let you come down before he goes reaching for a condom but he catches the time on his digital alarm clock, the numbers glaring at him in bright red. 

It was already past midnight meaning having the house to himself is ending relatively soon. 

You don’t need the extra recovery time though, in fact, it’s the opposite. What you need is more and you need it now. “Mingyu…” he hums in response and you will your mouth to work again, “Do you even play basketball?”

He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. Poking your tongue in your cheek you nod and point to his shorts, “...Off.”

Mingyu grins as he leans down and kisses you before rolling out of bed and your lips turn up into a smile, a breathless laugh floating up into the air. He drops his shorts and steps out in white Calvin Kleins stretched taut over his golden thighs, showing off every inch of his assets, and you have to prop yourself up on your elbows to even get the full picture.

Move over Marky Mark. 

You’re too busy staring at Mingyu’s body to notice him taking the opportunity to appreciate yours. It’s just a brief moment to sate both your curiosities because though neither of you would prefer to admit it, you’ve thought about each other naked and probably more than once. Getting handsy on your date gave you a bit of an idea but the overwhelmingly obvious dick print staring you in the face at the moment confirms your indecent theory about what Mingyu might be packing…

And that has got to be the ‘Pony’ Ginuwine was singing about.

When your eyes meet somewhere in the middle, you both turn away quickly, embarrassed only slightly for getting caught. It was a good feeling to know that the attraction is mutual. You hear a drawer close softly and feel the dip in the bed when he slides under the covers next to you. Rolling over, you land almost nose to nose and Mingyu grins, “I like it when you check me out.”

You answer him with a kiss that starts out innocently enough but it’s such a dizzying sensation to be so wrapped up in him that whatever witty retort you had been thinking of is lost in the way his fingers squeeze into your side. He sighs against your lips when he drags you closer and your thigh settles high on his hip, wrapping your body around him tightly. Without thought or hesitation, he drives his pelvis forward, rubbing his erection into your sensitive cunt. 

It makes you break for air, drawing too much of it into your lungs just to sharply moan through the exhale when he doesn’t stop. The muscles in his arms are so taut beneath your fingers that you know he’s not doing it to tease you - he’s at his breaking point and really just can’t help himself.

One hand slides down and pushes against the waistband of his briefs, rolling the material down as best you can until it catches his attention so his can finish the job himself. He groans, mostly to acknowledge your intentions, but also because he’s slowly trying to reel himself back for a moment. Just long enough to peel the last bits of clothing off you both and get a rubber on. It’s probably one of the most ridiculously inconvenient things he’s been made to do in a long time.

Neither of you say a word as he rips open the foil, trying to keep his hands still enough to roll the condom on correctly. It feels like static in his veins, trying to sit still when everything inside his body is screaming go, go, go! You can feel it too, the buzz of anticipation, the pulse between your thighs. 

Then, there is a pause after he rolls back over, covering your bare body with his own, and he just looks at you for a moment, mouth tight. Your hands slide over his arms, up his shoulders, and settle on his face. “Everything ok?”

“Just wanna do this right,” he whispers back, turning his face to kiss the palm of your hand. 

The corners of your lips lift in a small smile. “Feels pretty right to me, if that helps.”

The tension in his shoulders melts away and he relaxes his pinched brows. “It does help,” he says, one big hand stroking the outside of your thigh around his waist, “Just…talk to me if there is anything you want or don’t like.”

“I will,” you reassure him and he eyes you wearily one more time until you sigh, “I promise.”

That seems to be enough for him as he shifts between your legs and you let your hands fold over his shoulders, trying hopelessly to relax your body when you feel his fingers on you again. He doesn’t keep them there long, just enough to make sure you’re still wet before he’s gripping his cock, guiding himself into your heat. 

The pressure is immense and Mingyu feels you tense up beneath him. He pulls his other arm up and shifts his weight over to one side, grabbing your face with his free hand. “Breathe,” he says quietly, tipping your face up to look at him, “Just breathe, baby.”

Easier said than done but you exhale shakily and his thumb brushes against your cheek. Mingyu draws his hips back slightly and pushes further in, eyes falling to your mouth when it pops open. The feeling of fullness is all encompassing and all you can think about. So full you might burst at the seams but again, you will yourself to relax and he finally, finally bottoms out.

You let out a sharp breath and just can’t seem to catch it. 

Mingyu seems unsure of whether he should move or not and he barely gets the question out before you’re nodding. The first few thrusts are still tender and he’s still mindful of that but after a minute or so, the tides turn and you’re digging your heels into his backside, pulling him deeper. 

Mentally, emotionally, physically deeper. 

He’s a romantic through and through, including in times like this where he’s drunk on pussy and pure infatuation. He can’t get enough. The way you feel around him, clinging to his body, hands against his chest, eyes glued to his. He’s in severely dangerous territory and clamps his lips shut until the words sitting there fizzle out. Patience is what he needs. In his mind and in his heart.

His body is on an entirely different page. 

Mingyu is smooth and consistent in his movements, like water in and around you. His name spills from your lips reverently, whispered into the air between you and it feeds him, pushes him to fufill your needs in a way you knew deep down he would. He’s a pleaser in every way. 

So, when you slow him down with your palms firmly planted against his chest, he stops and listens. His attentiveness almost makes it harder to speak.

“Can I uh…like would you mind if I…laid on my stomach?” you ask unevenly, not really sure why you’re hesitating to share what you want when that is what he’s asked of you.

Mingyu looks like he’s died and gone to heaven. He doesn’t even answer. Carefully, he pulls out and moves so he can roll you over, prop your hips up, and fill you right back up. This time there is no slow start. His hand settles on your back, just between your shoulder blades, and he holds you there, pinning you in place in such a way that your eyes close on contact. Perfectly content to stay put.

The room is filled with lewd noises. Skin slapping against skin. Deep grunting and moaning sounds mixed together. Your muffled voice chanting his name over and over again. Mingyu’s quiet praises tickling your ears when your head turns fuzzy. 

It’s a good thing no one is home because it’s almost embarrassing how loudly passionate you both are. You regret not asking Mingyu to turn on the radio to drown out the noise but it’s too late now and with another tug upwards on your hips, he’s stroking your walls just right and you hit an entirely new set of notes. 

Mingyu can feel you squeezing around him, mewling into his pillows and he’s hanging on for dear life because you’re still skirting around the edge and he’s seconds from toppling over. An idea pops into his head, a catch twenty-two really because in doing this, he puts himself at further risk of finishing first but it’s still too enticing to pass up. 

Somehow, he manages to roll your bodies together until he hits the mattress, successfully claiming his spot as your big spoon. He hooks his left arm under your head so that it’s rested on his bicep while his hand is free to roam your chest and his right arm snakes over your hip before you feel his middle and ring finger slip between your folds. 

With you tightly wound up in his hold he picks up a brutal, finishing pace. He hits all the right spots and works your body until you’re seeing stars. Your breathing now harsh and uneven limits your ability to speak but you don’t need to say anything at all. 

Mingyu knows your coming and he’s going right along with you. When your orgasm hits, you bear down against him, crying out in broken sounds as he pumps his hips through his own release. He continues to hold you against his chest, gently kneading at the fleshy part of your hip. 

He presses kisses against your hair and then carefully, he pulls out before rolling you onto your back. Mingyu’s smile is adoring and beautiful, it makes you want to bury your face in the pillows again. The blanket will have to do. 

“Why are you hiding?” Mingyu chuckles, grabbing at the blanket, “Was it that bad?”

You flip the sheet down and give him a blank stare. 

“Shut up,” you bite, a hint of a smile appearing, “You know it was good. Better than good.”

“How good?” he smirks. 

With an eye roll, you pull the blanket up just high enough to cover the lower half of your face. “Really fucking good…and you’re not even slightly winded.”

He’s on top of the world. 

“My stamina is just another one of my many desirable qualities,” he half-shrugs, “If you’re still not in love with me, I’m happy to keep trying.”

“Will you stop when I do?”

“Not a chance,” he grins, one hand squeezing your thigh as he swoops in to steal another kiss, “Stay with me tonight. I’ll make you anything you want for breakfast”

You pretend to think about it when you know you’ll say yes, and not just because you don’t have a car. A sleepover? With your hot boyfriend? Who just rocked your world and will probably do it again and then cook for you in the morning? Yeah, that’s a no-brainer.

“I could probably be convinced if you find me something comfy to wear and have a spare pack of noodles…I’m starving.”

Mingyu jumps out of bed, the sight of his bare cheeks making you turn and giggle. “I’m about to make you the best noodles of your life,” he walks over to his dresser pulling out underwear for himself, a clean t-shirt, and blue-plaid pajama pants, then he tugs open another drawer and turns to you, holding out a big soft-looking jacket, “I think you’ll like this one. I don’t have any pants that will fit you but this is pretty long. Oooh,” he pauses, “I didn’t think about underwear when I-”

“Ruined mine?” you raise your brow teasingly, sitting up and making grabby hands for the sweater he tosses to you.

He scoffs, tip of his tongue poking at his teeth. “Yeah, that’s my bad.”

Your voice is muffled as you pull the sweater over your head before climbing out of bed, pleased that it indeed covers you well. “It’s okay. It’s not the first time and I’m sure it won’t be the last. I’ve learned to keep an extra pair in my bag.” You mention this so casually that he’s stunned when you walk over to grab said panties from your bag and kiss his cheek before turning to leave, “I’m gonna go clean up. Meet you in the kitchen for those mind blowing noodles?”

Mingyu hollers back as you near the bathroom door. “I’ll blow your mind in the kitchen alright!”

He slumps against the dresser when he hears you respond with, “I’m sure you will, babe!”

Babe. Ugh, you’re so it for him. 

The steam of the shower mixed with some kind of masculine aroma in Mingyu’s body wash gives off the same feeling of being in his arms and the thought warms your belly again. It’s almost embarrassing, how much you want him just after having him in full, but you’re sure he’d be happy to oblige even if you so much as hinted at it. 

Maybe he will blow your mind in the kitchen.

As you’re wrapping up and getting dressed you hear music, oddly loud for the hour but it’s vaguely familiar, still muffled by the sound of the vents running to air out the steam in the bathroom. Then there’s a crash, not earth shattering but enough that you’re slightly concerned. You hurry to hang your towel and pull on your clean underwear and his sweater when you hear another bump against the wall. Then…singing?

“Kiss meeee out of the bearded bobby~”

“NIGHTLYYYY beside the greanbeann grass~”

You poke your head into the hallway, “Um…Mingyu?”

“SWIIINGG SWIINNG-”

“Swing the spinnnning stem~”

Definitely not Mingyu. Also, definitely not the right words to this song but your interest is piqued.

You come around the corner to find him in the center of the living room, quietly laughing, holding the hand of one of his very jovial (probably drunk) maybe roommates while the other (definitely drunk) maybe roommate is spinning around them in circles, bumping into things along the way. 

The one with bright blonde hair pokes Mingyu mid-spin, “You wear the shoes and I’ll wear a dressss~”

Then the his drinking partner joins in and their both belting out, “oOHHH Kiss meeee, beneath the melting twilight~”

Mingyu points to the blonde and shouts over the noise, “That one’s Hoshi.”

 “Lead meeee, out on the moonlit flooOr!”

He gestures at the one hanging off his arm, the tall boy with shaggy black hair, “This one’s Minghao. They’re plastered, obviously.”

They’re delightful and Hoshi is coming your way with a cat-like smile. He bows, almost stumbles, and reaches for your hand which you’re happy to share. “Lift your open hand…” he serenades, lifting yours into the air, “Strike up the band and make firefights dance silver moons sparkly~”

And he spins you away so quickly you almost stumble but Mingyu catches you around the waist with Minghao singing over your shoulder in a whisper, “So, kiss me.”

And Mingyu does, of course, he’s not going to miss the opportunity. Minghao grins, leaning against the wall to catch his balance, and Hoshi claps…a little bit like a buffoon but you really like them both. Mingyu must really love them because he doesn’t complain one bit about the noise and overly dramatic show, especially with it being your first impression. It helps that he knows how laid back you are and can see the delight still dancing in your eyes. 

He does however, turn down the music on the stereo so everyone can talk without shouting. 

“You do know you guys are supposed to be serving the alcohol…not drinking it…right?”

“Don’t be r- *hiccup* -rude!” Hoshi flaps his hand dismissively, “I’ll tell your pretty girlfriend about all the times we had to hold your hair back, our sweet little Mingoo ~”

Minghao giggles, bumping into Hoshi’s shoulder, “Or about how you,” he pauses, the two of them bursting into hysterics as Mingyu sighs like he knows what’s coming. Minghao wipes away a tear, still cackling, “About how you got totally tanked that weekend you first started working at Wheelie’s and whined alllll nighttttt-”

Hoshi whacks Mingyu’s shoulder laughing and then looks at you, “He wouldn’t shut up about you the entire night. Crying into his beer…because he thought you were dating the DJ.”

Your hand flies over your mouth, giggling up at your boyfriend who is being a really good sport right now. Even as he pokes his tongue into his cheek, shaking his head at his friends. 

“Vernon and I were never dating,” you fake sniffle, “Sadly.”

“Sadly?!” Mingyu swings his head around toward you, “I thought the soulmate thing was a joke?” he laughs.

“Oh, baby, it is a joke,” you reassure him, patting his chest gently but just when he relaxes you whisper, “Until it isn’t.”

Hoshi sticks out his hand as he’s stumbling toward the kitchen and you land a low-five as he goes, and one up top when Minghao follows behind him excitedly mumbling about making drinks for everyone, then Hoshi is shouting about noodles ‘for the love of god, we need more noodles!’

Mingyu sighs and you know he’s about to complain that he no longer has you to himself. Can practically hear it in your head already. So, you cut him off before he can start, tugging him down into a kiss hot enough to make him groan against your lips as his hands dip down to take handfuls of you. 

Then he’s laughing, falling out of rythym and you pull back, smiling. “What?”

You squawk in surprise when he smacks your ass and says, “You know you’re still not wearing pants, right?”

Actually, you forgot because of the whole song and dance thing. 

“That’s embarrassing,” you mumble, tugging his sweater further down your thighs, “I could go throw my work pants-”

“I can try to find you som-”

You both look toward the kitchen when music starts playing and Mingyu shakes his head, almost regretting stowing his portable radio in there for when he’s cooking. It’s quiet for a few seconds and then, like someone cranked the volume all the way up, it’s starts blasting and they’re both singing.

“Ooooh baby, baybay, b-baby, baybaby, oooh baby-”

Mingyu just laughs. “On second thought, don’t even worry about it. They aren’t going to remember anything tomorrow morning anyway.”

“I like them,” you grin.

His shoulder shake with mirth, “Of course you do.”

You giggle when one of the guys starts shouting the words and grab Mingyu’s hand, pulling him along behind you. “Come on, noodles, drinks, Salt-n-Pepa,” he fake groans and you squeeze his hand, “This is the most fun I’ve had at a sleepover in years.”

Then he’s grinning, “Well, we can make it a regular thing if you want.”

You turn, just before you get to the kitchen and push up to kiss his cheek, “Whatever you say, Hot Wheels.”

“Oh, come on,” he drags his feet after you, “Can we pick a new nickname?!”

“Sure. Come on, Coach Kim. Let’s go play in the kitchen.”

He stumbles a step and shakes his head. “Am I supposed to pretend it doesn’t make me kind of horny when you call me that? God, please don’t hold that against me. I am only a man.”

Oh? Good to know. “Whatever you say, Coach.”

Thanks for reading! 💖

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→ Please do NOT copy, repost, or translate, any of my works here on tumblr or on any other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, Milfgyuu, 2019. ©️

[heechwe]

night changes | 𝐥𝐡𝐬

୨୧ pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 3k ୨୧ genre: smut, fluff, hint of comedy ୨୧ tags: roomates to lovers au, pet names (love, baby, etc.), dirty talk, size kink, face sitting, 69, unprotected sex, creampie. ୨୧ synopsis: Maybe a citywide power outage is what you need to finally confess your feelings. Well, that and a risque card game. ➸ Birthday fic for the beautiful boy!! Also, the card game is fictional and takes inspiration from other card games like Hot Seat!

“How many candles do we have left?” You ask in the form of a groan, trying to find a bar of reception in your apartment. With the power suddenly lost from the blistering rainstorm outside, it’s a wonder when it will calm down and you’ll have access to the outside world again.

“Relax. I bought more a couple days ago when I was tracking the path of the storm. No big deal.” Heeseung begins lighting them and placing them around your shared apartment. By the time he’s finished, the candlelight gives enough coverage of the living spaces for you both to walk around without issue.

Heesung has always been good at that. He can prepare for the worst and keep a cool head in the midst of chaos, including when your fiery temper rears its head. But your fire comes in handy sometimes. When he doesn’t want to deal with talking to your landlord or fixing errors with the management company, you take the reins. The balance you both established is why you work so well as friends and roommates. 

“I wonder how long we’ll be out of power,” you mumble, drumming your fingers across the arm of the couch and trying not to have a meltdown. The cool air from the open windows provides some relief, even if you’re running hot from your spiked nerves.

“Well, whether it’s a few hours or a dozen, we just gotta make the best of it.” Heeseung smiles. Suddenly, his eyes widen and he claps his hands together. “How about board games?”

You giggle. “When was the last time you played a board game, Hee?”

“It’s been a minute,” he confesses, a shy smile on his lips. “But, hey! Never a better time than now.”

The two of you open the spare living room closet to grab a handful of board games you’ve collected since living in the apartment together. You rifle through them, Candyland immediately catching your eye. But Heeseung has other ideas.

“Oh! Let’s do Hot Topics!” Heeseung holds up the box with a smirk, immediately opening it to rifle through its contents.

“But there’s only two of us!”

“So? We’ll make it work!” He sits down on the living room rug and pats the spot next to him.

You oblige his request. How couldn’t you when he smiles at you in that way? With his cute cheeks and Adam's apple bobbing in laughter—no. You’re not going to trudge up these old feelings again, especially during such an unfortunate situation.

You’re friends and roommates, end of. 

Heeseung shuffles the cards and pulls out the first one on the top of the deck. “Alright, first one. All Play: Would I marry someone twice my age if it meant I never had to work again?” He considers the question, but you immediately let out a noise similar to one you would make when vomiting.

“No fucking way! I don’t want my husband one foot out the door!”

“Well, if I didn’t have to work at the ramen shop anymore—” Heeseung wiggles his eyebrows and you shove him in the shoulder. He expels a hearty laugh. “I’m kidding! I agree with you.”

The game continues on, prompts and questions so ridiculous they make any lingering anxiety about the storm ebb away, too lost in the game and your friend to notice the ever-present storm outside your door.

You take a new card from the deck, flipping it upside to reveal the prompt. “Dare: Stare at the player next to you for thirty seconds. The first one to break eye contact has to skip their turn.” You throw the card in the discarded pile without a care. “That’s so easy.”

“Bring it on.” You move positions to face Heeseung, his eyes immediately lighting up with the challenge presented to you both.

“Three, two, one,” you count down. “Go!”

Heeseung tries to make you break immediately with a goofy face, but you stand resolute, eyebrows furrowed and mouth in a thin line. But then, he stares you down with his bright eyes and soft smile, making your entire body go cold. This could not be happening. You aren’t feeling your stupid, childlike crush come back at you in full force. Not tonight. Not like this.

You had been so stern in keeping it stamped down the past two years you’ve been roommates. It hadn’t been easy, but with enough practice and denial, it seemed pretty easy to keep it at bay. But now, the only two people in the darkness of this room, you wonder how much longer your resolve can hold.

You fake a heavy cough and turn away. Heeseung screeches in victory with his arms raised up high. “Weak! You’re so weak.”

You roll your eyes and turn back to face the deck. “Whatever, dumbass. Pick the next card.”

He reads his new card aloud. “Truth: How long was your longest crush?” He releases an anxious laugh, and then throws the card into the pile amongst the other used ones. “Longest one’s still going.”

You turn your head to face him, but he’s only staring at the deck. He grabs the next card and ignores how his confession has created a new, heavy fog of tension. If Heeseung has a crush, one that’s apparently been in the works for awhile, neither Jake nor anyone else gave you the head’s up about it.

Heeseung reads the next challenge aloud. “Dare: Excite one player just by kissing them for 10 seconds. You’re not limited to the player’s lips.” His eyes go wide as he holds the card tightly between his fingers. “If you don’t want me to, I—“”

You laugh it off, taking the card from him and setting it on the floor. “It’s fine. It’s just a game, right?”

“Right.” Heeseung inches closer, your faces barely a few inches apart. You were prepared for him to kiss you on the mouth and that would be the end of it, but you tremble in pleasure when you realize his lips are suddenly attached to your neck.

A moan escapes your lips when he begins to suck on the space of your neck near your collarbone. He doesn’t use his hands at all. All it takes is his mouth, its soft pressure creating a swirling eruption within your stomach, begging to be released. He licks at your bruising skin, pressing his mouth there once more before stepping back.

When he’s back in his normal position, the timer goes off. “So, uh,” he says, cutting through the sudden awkward silence, “are you excited?”

You blush and bite down on your bottom lip hard, no words coming out in response. You turn your attention back to the deck. “F-Finally, my turn again!”

You turn another card for the next prompt, reading it in your head and wanting to jump out the window before Heeseung can see it. “Dare: Kiss the player you would most likely go on a date with on the cheek.”

You tell yourself to just get it over with, in spite of your jumbling nerves. Excuse it after as a technicality, him being the only living person in existence in the apartment to kiss for the challenge. End it there and hope the past few dares do not destroy the sanctity of your friendship.

You crawl on your hands to get close to Heeseung’s cheek, but before you can land the kiss, he turns his head and catches your mouth with his. You’re unprepared for the act, but your lips quickly become accustomed once you spend a second or two in his embrace. His lips are gentle, teasing, eager for you, and it makes your knees feel like cotton. 

He pulls you up from your position to rest in his lap, still pressing his mouth to yours. Suddenly, his tongue is licking at the roof of your mouth, and your body feels like a live wire. How did he have the power to jumpstart your nerves and set them on fire all at once?

You separate from him, confusion clouding your sudden desire. “Why’d you do that?”

“I wanted to.” Heeseung moves stray hairs from your face, the baby hairs clinging to your skin from the sweat. “Did you not want me to?”

“No, I did!” You giggle nervously. “I just didn’t know how you’d react if I said so.”

“Why did you never say anything before?” Heeseung looks genuinely confused and concerned. He wonders how much more obvious he had to have been. Before this moment, had he missed chances to give you the signs? Clearly so, with your stammered words and nervous limbs. He had to get better at his communication.

“Do you know how awkward it would’ve been if you hadn’t felt the same?” You ask him the rhetorical question, your eyebrow quirked up. “Just tiptoeing around the both of us knowing I have this exhaustive crush on you?”

Heeseung chuckles into your neck. If you described your crush in that way, his had to have been all-consuming, even if you were oblivious to it. “Exhaustive?”

“I mean,” you whisper, “do you know how hard it is to look at you and not want to jump you all the time?”

You feel his bulge tighten against his sweatpants, the sensation against your body making you gasp. Heeseung smirks in response. “Well, clearly it’s a mutual thing.”

The two of you resume kissing, both lost in the relief of your feelings mirroring each others’. In spite of the current storm still whipping the trees against your apartment building, you were so at ease wrapped around Heeseung like a vine.

If anything, Mother Nature is mimicking all the sensations bubbling up inside of you, close to reaching their boiling point with the way Heeseung expertly touches and squeezes your skin while his mouth covers your face in kisses.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” He asks as he lays you down on the living room rug, hands in your hair and lips magnetized to the spot on your neck where he had kissed you previously. “How long I’ve thought about being in your bed? Touching you, tasting you, feeling you.”

“Heeseung, please.” You inch his shirt up and over his head, admiring the divots and ridges of his newly-revealed muscles.

It isn't the first time you’ve seen him shirtless, but it’s only the beginning of the night, and you’re certain you’ll see parts of him you haven’t seen yet. The thought alone makes your body tingle in all the right places. “Stop talking and touch me more.”

“So impatient.” Heeseing releases a devilish laugh into the column of your throat. “I want to savor this. Savor you.”

“We have all the time in the world until the power goes out. I want you,” you whine, bucking your hips up into nothing but his clothed legs and hips, his bulge barely brushing your clothed heat. 

Heeseing hisses and makes you both sit up, his expression blown from lust. “Sit on my face.”

You laugh, hesitant yet excited. “What?”

He places a kiss on your lips with every pause between his words. “I. Said. Sit. On. My. Face.”

You listen to his tone, playfully demanding but completely serious. This is a new side of Heeseung you had never seen. The same humorous guy you felt butterflies for since the day you met, but with an edge of vulgarity that leaves you in impure anticipation. 

You tug off both your cotton shorts and underwear. You may still be wearing your tank top, but you imagine that will come off soon too.

You settle your body down on Heeseung’s awaiting tongue. Your body trembles when he takes an eager lick along your folds, his mouth immediately enveloped in your heat. “Jesus, are you always this wet?” He asks, voice muffled but still clear enough for you to hear.

“Only when I think of you,” you confess. Many nights alone proved the only way to get off was with the image of Heeseung’s face and body between your legs in your brain. Even if he was seven feet away on another overnight session of League of Legends, you had to get your fix.

“Fuck.” He pulls you down further onto his mouth, practically suffocating him as he laps at your cunt mercilessly. Your mouth hangs open in ecstasy, all the fantasies you held incomparable to this.

Heeseung’s hips match yours in their rhythm against his face, and you feel guilty the poor man is receiving no pleasure while you have all of it. You reach over to the top of his sweatpants and pull them down, his cock springing free from the material. The tip leaks a hefty amount of precum, and you smear it down his girthy length with one hand.

Heeseung moans against your center, but he pulls himself back. “You don’t have to–”

“You’re taking care of me,” you pant, “let me take care of you.”

You wrap your lips around his tip, experimenting with the pressure and size of him on your tongue. When he groans and growls in between your legs, lapping at your essence with even more fervor, you take his entire length in your mouth.

“God, you’re too good at this,” Heeseung moans, rolling his hips into your awaiting mouth and cursing when he feels the back of your throat. “I could have your mouth on me all fucking day.”

You continue like that for a while, tasting each other and teasing the waters until both of you are a mess. It’s a mesmerizing dance you’re in with him, chasing your highs together. But you’re unsure who will ask to take the next step. Removing your mouth from his with a resounding pop, you plead, “Please Hee, I want you inside of me.”

“Anything for you.” He gently gets up from between your legs and positions himself against the couch. He signals for you to sit on his lap, a playful grin on his lips. You do so without a second thought, anticipating his body molding to yours perfectly. How did the night start with you both planning another ramen-filled movie night and end up here?

You sink down onto him, the sudden fullness making your eyelids shut from the sensation. “Damn, you’re so tight,” he growls, slowly rocking you onto him with his hands on your hips. “Feels fucking incredible.”

“Y-You’re so big, Hee. It’s amazing.” You find your own pace, languidly riding him as the wind still rages on outside. Besides the weather, the sounds of your skin against his crowd the space of your apartment.

Heeseung removes your tank top quickly, clutching one of your breasts to knead the skin. “You like it, don’t you?” Heeseung whispers. “Being filled up by me, stretched out and fucked hard?” He takes the other breast into his mouth, latching his lips onto your nipple and swirling his tongue wickedly.

“Yes, fuck yes. Only by you, Hee.”

He bucks his hips up into you, your body slamming down on him in fast increments to compensate for his new rhythm. “Yeah, baby, tell the entire floor who’s making you feel this good.”

“Heeseung, fuck,” you scream out his name. It doesn’t matter if the rain and wind can’t conceal your sounds. All you care about is this moment, right here with him in your living room, all your desires coming to fruition. “Fuck, it’s so good.”

After more kisses and curses of pleasure leaving both of your lips, you feel the end deep in your stomach, the release tightening and ready to snap. “I’m gonna come,” you say.

“Ride me harder, baby,” he responds, moving his hand in between your bodies to rub your clit in a frenzy. “Use me. Come all over me.”

You do, feeling your body use what’s left of its energy to reach your peak quickly. You cry out a final time as your orgasm floods your senses, your body alive yet limp from the endorphins circulating through your system.

“Ah, fuck.” Heeseung spills inside of you mere seconds after, your sounds coupled with the feeling of your pulsing walls around him enough for his body to climax as well. He milks it all, hips rocking up into you to exhaust himself in an effort to feel his entire release.

You both slow down, but you relish in the feeling of the sudden warmth of Heeseung’s orgasm inside of you. It trickles down between your legs and onto Heeseung himself as he begins to pull out of you, and the sight may just make him rock-hard again. But he’ll save the image for another night.

Heeseung gives you a final, tender kiss before he stands up from his spot on the floor. He runs to the bathroom for a washcloth, wetting it to clean the both of you up. When he’s done, he takes great care in snuffing out the candles around the house.

You tease him for it, but he reminds you about the serious fire hazard of leaving them burning overnight, to which you agree. “Always one step ahead, babe,” Heeseung jokes.

He brings a blanket with him to cover the both of you up, your body immediately warmed by his. Your head rests on his bicep, his muscle the perfect pillow. 

In that moment, you’re content with not just the power being out, the only sounds being the storm and the air leaving your lungs. You’re content to be here in the dark with Heeseung, the feelings you repressed for so long not only released but reciprocated.

Heeseung kisses your forehead and hums you to sleep, his voice the last sound you hold onto before you’re whisked away to dreamland.

You wake up nestled in Heeseung’s arms on the living room floor, the blanket he grabbed barely covering both of your bodies. You hear the sound of your Roomba trying to connect to the bluetooth and feel the blue morning sky on your skin, telltale signs the power’s back on and the storm has gone on its way.

You smile to yourself, snuggling further into Heeseung’s neck and kissing the skin there. Who knew a power outage could bring two people together like this?

He rustles awake a moment later, his eyelashes fluttering open so beautifully. A smile stretches across his face when he sees what you’re doing. In the light of day, his face is even more breathtaking, and you’re grateful its expressions are reserved solely for you now. “Good morning.”

You blush. “Very good morning.”As you kiss him, invigorating his energy and leftover desire from the night prior, you think you’ll have to send the manufacturers of Hot Topics a thank-you card.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[angel-sweets666]

how t some of the bakusquad boys initiate 👀

Bakugo katsuki x reader, eijiro kirishima x reader, Denki kaminari x reader

warnings: mentions of sex, more sexual stuff. No real sex tho Dw reader is mentioned to have a pussy but that’s the one gender mention

sorry I didn’t write sero I don’t have a good idea on his character

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

ALL AGED UP TO 18 AND IN 3RD YEAR

Katsuki bakugo

Bakugo either starts off subtly or straight up, no In between. He’s especially rough when he’s had a bad day

you roll over onto your side, typing to Mina about drama from class 3B (1B)When bakugo bursts open the door and slams it closed, practically making the door frame shake. “Had a bad day?” You asked him, still distracted on your phone and tapping away. Bakugo lets out a groan “I FUCKING-“ “inside voice.” You interrupted “I had a fucking ass day.” He still yelled as he threw his hero shirt and mask onto the floor, stomping over to you in bed. You peered over your shoulder and looked him up and down, noticing how dirty his boots are “bakugo take your boots off! Your filthy!!” You sat up and looked him up and down again. the blonde rolls his eyes and takes off his black and orange dirt stained boots, chucking them to the door. “There, better?” He grumbled, climbing into bed with you. “Yeah.. that’s better” you said as you rolled onto your back, bakugo sat up and pulled your legs apart and laying down on your chest. You could feel his length begin to grow harder and harder underneath you, he sat up and slowly began to rock his hips against yours. “shit- can we fuck?”

eijiro kirishima

sweet boy asks, and he’s so polite about it too! He wants to be a chivalrous hero and a great boyfriend in general to you. So of course he asks so politely:(((

you were washing some dishes in the common room, you and tsu had some noodles for lunch and you were just cleaning up the bowls from the food. Humming and dancing to yourself, kirishima watched from afar. You looked so pretty when you were happy like that, how could he not wanna fuck you? As you put away the last fork you suddenly felt a pair of very strong and solid arms wrap around you “hi baby!” You giggle and kiss his cheek, kirishima gives you a toothy grin and kisses your neck gently “hey sweetheart.. you look so pretty today” he tells you as he rubs your size “you wouldn’t possibly be in the mood would you?” He asks with his cheeks turning red “are you asking for sex?” You grinned to him and he nodded “yeah alright baby cmon”

Denki kaminari

My bro begs, like HE BEGS And not in a cute little submissive way I’m talking like really annoying “PLEASEEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE” while on his knees shuffling around to follow you

You were busy trying to clean out your dorm, preparing for graduation in the next few weeks. The task was already challenging, but it became nearly impossible with an electric blonde following you around on his knees, begging for you to let him fuck you

“PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE, ILL BE QUICK!”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore him as you sorted through a pile of textbooks. "Denki, I really need to get this done. Graduation is right around the corner, and I can't leave my dorm looking like a disaster zone." He shuffled closer, still on his knees, and clasped his hands together dramatically. "But I need you more than your dorm does!” You turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow “oh really?” You leaned your weight to one hip, Denki rolled his eyes then stood up, mild carpet burn on his knees from following you around “BRO YES? YOUVE GOT LIKE, A 10/10 PU-” “ DONT DAY THAT SO LOUD!” You covered his mouth then sighed “you know what… I could use the break” denkis face lit up “so… I can fuck you?” He asked with his face practically glowing as you nodded

I said I’d tag u next time I wrote for Denki kaminari so here! I hope it was as accurate as last time @b0o0o

[megwritesriddles]

Sweeter Than Fiction ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 7 - Queening / Face-sitting. Spencer meets Reader when she starts working at his local library and he's quickly in over his head. After he goes snooping for information on her online, he finds out a dirty little secret, she writes fanfiction.

Tags: Face-sitting, Oral sex (f receiving), Fantasies, Masturbation, Pining, Friends to lovers, Love confessions, Sub!Spencer, Autistic!Spencer (implied ig?), Both Spencer and Reader are NERDS, Set somewhere between seasons 1-3.

Word count: 4.6k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Surprise!! I changed a couple things on my kinktober due to lack of inspiration so here's an unexpected extra Spencer fic!! This is soooo long and the plot is so self-indulgent and ughhh but he eats you out so...!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Spencer had never felt like this before, he hadn’t really had the chance to. Crushes had never really been his thing, having been significantly younger than his peers all throughout his education and being staunchly focused on his career ever since. He had physical attractions here and there, like an occasional reminder that he really was just a fallible human man as much as anyone else, but never any true feelings, nothing he ever wanted to try to pursue in a serious way. It wasn’t simple for him like it was for someone like Morgan, in many senses of the word. Not only was he just not socially skilled enough to pursue relationships, whether casual or otherwise, with any success, he also had a large set of difficulties that he would carry into any relationship. He was quite touch averse, not that he didn’t desperately crave it all the same, which could easily cause issues in any physical relationship. He also had a lot of emotional baggage, from his mother, from his job, from his bullying. He felt a mess emotionally and didn’t see the point in trying to bring in another person to see the mess in all its glory. So he kept to himself. He wasn’t completely without experience, but every experience he’d had was marred with difficulty and complication, none of it ever lasted. He was reasonably content to keep to himself.

Until he met you. He’d been visiting the library nearest his apartment since he moved to D.C. for work. One day he walked in and you were sitting behind the desk, all bright-eyed and excited. The attraction to you had been immediate, he’d found you to be beautiful, he liked the way you dressed, and he liked your sweet voice as you spoke to the customer in front of you. He thought it would end there, that he would silently find you attractive from afar but remained more focused on other things. Cursed to stammer nervously at you whenever you scanned his books, but never say more than necessary. For a long time, that’s all it was, until he was taking out a book that, unbeknownst to him, was a big favourite of yours.

“Oh my goodness, my favourite” you chuckle as you pick up the book from his pile. “This book is amazing, you’ll love it, I’m sure,” you smile brightly as you scan it onto his card. His fingers twitch where he rests them on the edge of the wooden counter. He hadn’t been prepared to talk to you, but it’s nicer than most things that catch him unprepared.

“Y-yeah? Uh… great,” he swallows, drumming his fingers on the counter as you scan the rest of his books, mostly textbooks. 

“Well, if you have any taste that is,” you tease. He laughs back stiffly, his mouth feeling dry. 

“I uh… like to think I do…” he smiles awkwardly.

“You’ll have to tell me what you thought of it,” you hand him the books and his brain blanks for a moment. You’re inviting him to speak to you some other time, to have an actual conversation. He moves jerkily, taking the books from you and packing them into his satchel. You smile kindly and wave to him as he leaves. “See you soon,”

The way his mind is spinning from that simple conversation, he knows that this is something different. He collapses onto a bench outside the library, taking a deep breath. Why is his heart racing? Is this what butterflies feel like? He rubs a hand through his hair, messing it up. When the anxiety fades away, he’s left with a warm feeling in his chest. You want to speak to him again. He flips open his satchel and pulls out the book you’d said was your favourite. It’s classic literature, something he’s been meaning to read for a long time now, but has somehow never gotten around to. He devours the book in mere minutes, thanks to his impressive reading speed. It’s an amazingly compelling tale, with feminist undertones that were ahead of their time and he feels he understands you just a little better by knowing you like this book. He packs it back into his satchel and stands, heading back into the library. The queue to your desk is a few people long, but he joins it anyway, fiddling with the strap of his bag. You don’t make much small talk with the people in front of him in the line, making it feel all the more special that you’d spoken to him. He reaches the front and you smile, but tilt your head in confusion.

“Forget something?”

“The book was great,” he blurts, and you look even more confused.

“What?”

“The book, the one you said was your favourite, it was phenomenal, and surprisingly progressive for its time! Having those sorts of sentiments about a woman's role in a marriage in the 18th century, while seeming slightly archaic by today's standards, must have caused quite a stir at the time, especially coming from a female author. British law in 1764 actually suggested that women–” he doesn’t realise he’s rambling until you cut him off.

“Hold on, you read it already?” you look disbelieving. He smiles sheepishly. “I only lent it to you, what?” you glance at the clock on your desktop screen. “15 minutes ago,”

“I can read very fast,” he mumbles, looking at the scuff on the toe of his shoe for a moment. You giggle.

“Yeah, clearly,” you study his face. He goes quiet, eyes flickering over the small decorations you had scattered across your desk as a means of personalising your space. “You were saying?” you prompted softly. He looked up at you in wonder, no one had ever requested he resumes an info dump, usually, he was told to shut up and looked weird, but you seemed to wait with genuine interest. Perhaps that was the moment that he was well and truly done for. He steps aside so that the person behind him in the line can get their books scanned. He talks at you for almost a whole hour, getting lost in tangent after tangent as you work. You occasionally pipe in to ask a question or make a comment, but you seem happy to listen. Suddenly, your already beautiful appearance becomes more like that of an angel or a goddess to him. He’s never wanted something so bad in his life. He leaves the library after you excuse yourself for your lunch break. Once he gets home, he sits down on his couch, smiling dopily. Then, it slowly dawns on him that he’d just stood there and rattled on about various topics that he had no clue if you even had any interest in. He buries his face in his hands and groans. Has he already ruined things with the first person he’s ever felt anything genuine for? It was bound to happen eventually, but this soon? He goes to bed miserable that night.

Fortunately, his misery had been for nothing. The next time he visits the library, you’re there, all smiles at him like usual. When he comes to return his previous book haul (yes, maybe he hasn’t used the returns box since you started working here, what of it?), you greet him, asking if he has any more facts for you. At first, he thinks you’re mocking him, but the genuine smile you give tells him otherwise. He scrambles through his mind for something interesting to tell you, feeling less than a genius at this moment. He settles to ask what your favourite animal is, then spends the next several minutes telling you all the nichest information about that animal he could think of. This time, you start to talk too, though instead of spewing facts, you’re telling him personal anecdotes, or about new books the library has got in. The next several times he comes in, you end up talking for long periods of time. You never interrupt him when he rambles and in return he allows you to ramble too, not bothered by the slightest if he has to listen to you for hours. He’d do it happily. Things escalate over time, and he realises the two of you have truly become friends. The thought excites him, as he is closer to the object of his affection, but also because he doesn’t have all that many friends outside of his work. With you, he has somebody to talk books with, and that means the world to him. You text daily, though they’re not particularly long conversations, just whenever something comes up that you think might interest the other. You’d originally given him your email address and he’d explained that he didn’t use email. He felt completely silly, but you’d just shrugged it off and given him your number. Despite that, he still keeps the piece of paper onto which you scrawled your email address, tacked up by his seldom used computer. Just in case.

The team at the BAU tease him relentlessly when they find out about the ‘sweet girl from the library’ that he texts everyday. Any hint of him interacting with a woman, they latch onto like rabid wolves, but when the texts from you keep popping up on his phone now and then for weeks, they absolutely won’t leave it alone. They all know he likes you, even if he’s been very careful to not reveal this fact and they tease him about it. He’s just glad you’re never there to hear it, as he might just die from the embarrassment. One week, while staying back from a case due to a mild cold, he sits in Garcia’s office and watches her work while he does his own. She had insisted he come keep her company, and he hadn’t quite dared to tell her no. He’s scribbling down some notes about the latest crime scene photos they’ve been sent through when Garcia receives a call. It’s Morgan, asking her to run a check on an email address that may potentially belong to an unsub, to see what kind of accounts can be linked to it, and if there’s anything untoward and potentially warrant-worthy. He watches over her shoulder as she types the email address into a program, which spits back out several accounts all over the internet. He rolls his chair over, watching curiously.

“How do you do that? Is it for FBI stuff only?” he asks nervously, twirling a pen around in his fingers. Garcia laughs and glances over her shoulder. 

“No, you can find programs to do this in various places online,” she answers, highlighting accounts of potential interest. He nods, still watching over her shoulder, working his lip between his teeth. He tries to convince himself that he’s not going to do it, even as he asks Garcia to write him down one of these websites. She gives him a knowing look but obliges. He keeps telling himself he won’t do it, and that it’s creepy as he gets the train home, but as soon as he’s in his apartment, he heads for his computer and boots it up. He searches up the site that Garcia recommended and tells himself one last time that he isn’t going to do it, before copying your email address into the search field and hitting enter. He waits as the website loads the results, glancing at the door to his apartment as if you’re going to burst in and tell him off. Oh, how he wishes you’d be in his apartment one day, or he at yours. He’s never really wanted to share a space before, but lately, everything he does he imagines what it would be like to have you there. Your arms around him as he cooks, your head on his lap as he watches TV, your body against his in the bed. The website finishes its search and he takes a deep breath, investigating the results. There are various common social media websites, accounts with academic journals (which he appreciates you for), and a couple of other sites he doesn’t recognise. He clicks on the first and furrows his brows. Fanfiction? He supposes that you are a voracious reader like he is, and you mentioned liking to write, but never admitting to what you wrote. This was it then, was it? Your secret writing? It wasn’t that secret, the account was registered in your name, all the works listed being for books and media that you talked about often. You had quite a decent following, at least in his eyes, you were no celebrity, but you had a decent collection of comments and likes.

He starts to read, beginning with your most popular piece. He digests it in moments, his cheeks burning bright. It was pure pornography. Well not purely, there was quite a well-woven storyline behind it, but the focus was undoubtedly the filthy sex scenes. He loosens his tie, feeling hot. He double and triple checks that this is definitely your account, but it clearly is. He’s feeling a little disbelieving, you had just always seemed so innocent to him, but he supposed the two of you had never discussed sex in any way. Spencer would have combusted if it had ever come up. He inhales the rest of your work, getting unreasonably hard in his slacks as he reads. He’s impressed by the skill of your writing, but more than anything, by how delicious your imagination is. It’s like you’ve plucked every fantasy he’s ever allowed himself to have out of his brain and written it up with beautiful flowery language. He doesn’t know half of the characters that you’ve written for, but it doesn’t matter to him, as he imagines the two of you in their places and it works perfectly. Almost like it was written with the two of you in mind. He discards that thought, but not before noticing that you’ve been writing a lot more in the past few months you’ve known each other. He notices how many of your stories centre around a more submissive male, a favourite trope of yours seeming to be having the female partner sit on their face. He imagines you sitting on his face and groans aloud, having to palm his bulge through his slacks. He imagines you’d be like the protagonists in your stories, dominating but kind. He reaches into his slacks to stroke himself, not something he does often, but something that has certainly been more frequent lately. His eyes skim a passage of one of your stories as he tugs at himself, picturing your face between the words. He cums harder than he thinks he ever has because this feels that much closer to the real thing. Once he’s done, he sits catching his breath, staring at the mess on his hand and stomach. He thinks he should feel ashamed, but he’s still aroused, terribly so. He wishes he could show you what you do to him. Before he can stop himself, his aroused brain much less intelligent than he usually is, he makes an account on the site with his name and leaves a comment on your most recent work.

“This was the hottest thing I’ve ever read,” 

He sends it and sits back, wiping the rest of the residue off his stomach. As the haze of arousal lifts, he realises what he’s done. Panicking, he tries to delete the comment, but there’s no option to. He swallows, taking a deep breath. It’ll be okay, he tells himself, if she ever notices, I’ll pretend I was just being sarcastic, teasing her for writing this kind of thing, not genuinely rocked by it. However, his phone is already ringing. It’s you. You never call. You couldn’t have seen the comment already, could you? He seriously debates not answering, even as he’s desperate to hear your voice. Against his better judgment, he picks up the phone.

“Am I speaking to SpencerReid1981?” you chuckle over the phone, your voice teasing as you recite his username. His plans to pretend he was mocking you go out the window the second you talk. He can tell you have one over him by the confident tone in your voice. You’ve had one over him since the day you first met. 

“Y-yeah,” he relents, seeing no way out of this now. What would the chances be of another Spencer Reid born in 1981 having commented on your fanfiction? If he wasn’t so nervous and lingeringly aroused, he could’ve told you. He decides to just be earnest. “You’re a really good writer,”

“How did you even find me on there?” you scoff, laughing gently. He blushes, glad you can’t see it.

“You don’t want to know,” he mumbles. There’s a moment of silence.

“So… you found it hot, huh? What part?” he chokes slightly on his spit, going bright red, you can probably tell, even through the phone.

“Don’t make me say it,” he squeaks. You hum softly on the other end.

“Oh come on… you started all this,” you coax. He’s silent for another beat, you hear his laboured breaths on the phone. 

“The- when- when she uh… sat on his face,” he stutters out. You smirk.

“Really?” you stretch out the last syllable in a playful manner. “You a big giver then?” you say it to tease him, expecting him to sputter and deny it, to beg to change the subject, but he doesn’t.

“I– I would be for you,” you both go silent, you in shock and him in fear of your reaction. You’re dumbfounded that he would ever be so direct with you. It’s been clear to you for a while that he has a thing for you, you’ve caught his lingering looks on your lips or your thighs, the way you’re able to fluster him, but you’d assumed he’d dance around it forever. He’d just essentially admitted, leaving it hanging in the air.

“Come over,” you answer simply, hanging up the phone before he can ask questions or change his mind. Spencer feels completely dumbstruck by your words. Come over? His legs are carrying him to his door before he can think about it. He grabs his bag and his coat and hurries to his car. He’s never driven so fast in his life, he’s only been at your place once, to drop you off after your work, but the way there is memorised like the back of his hand anyway. He worries in the back of his mind that he may get a speeding ticket, but any fine is worth it for you. He’s sprinting up the stairs of your apartment building, his long frame moving nimbler than ever before. He reaches your apartment and knocks at the door.

You answer the door, dressed in some loungewear and he suddenly realises how real this all is. He stands there staring, unable to do anything else, even as you greet him and tell him to come in. You have to take his arm and pull him inside, your hand on his arm lighting him on fire. But he’s shy again, he needs you to take control of this because he has no clue what he’s doing here. He’s never done something like this before, and he's never been so reckless. Did he even lock the door when he left home? You look so beautiful that everything could be stolen from him and he wouldn’t bat a lash. He fidgets, looking anywhere but your eyes. You’re talking to him but he can’t figure out what you’re saying, his brain feeling like mush. He tries his best to pick out some words from the pleasing hum of your voice. You’re saying something about your bedroom. He connects the dots when you start to pull his arm.

“Wha- wait, what are we doing?” he asks, his voice shaking. You freeze, tilting your head.

“What do you mean what are we doing?”

“I mean– uh– I wasn’t really– are we…?” he stammers, his fingers fidgeting. 

“Don’t you want this?” you frown, worrying you’d misread this somehow, even though he’d come rushing over here. He stares at you, eyebrow twitching. You move closer, gently smoothing your hand up his arm. He closes his eyes, losing himself in it.

“Yeah,” he breathes, even though he’s not entirely sure what he’s agreeing to. Whatever it is, if it’s preceded by you touching him like this, it must be good. He follows you like a puppy as you guide him to your bedroom. You place your hands on his chest and he whines, somewhere deep in his throat. The feeling is just so overwhelming in all the best ways. His eyes are wide staring down into yours as your fingers twist, gripping his sweater vest. You lean up, touching your lips to his and he’s whining again. He kisses back, his hands finding your hips, hovering. Your hands are raking through his hair.

“Lie on the bed for me,” you mumble between kisses. He shivers.

“Are you going to sit on my face?” he asks bluntly, needing to know if he’s getting what he’s been thinking about non-stop since earlier this evening, probably even before that. You chuckle at his candour, he’s always been like this and it’s endearing that he’s no different in this situation.

“That’s the idea,” you grin, tilting your head to the side to press closer as you kiss him. He shuffles toward the bed and you push him back to lie down, disconnecting your lips to pull his sweater vest off. He looks up at you pleadingly until you lean down to kiss him again. You straddle his stomach, his hands lie awkwardly at his sides. His breathing is erratic and his fingers fiddle nervously with the material of your sheets. “You okay?” you ask between slow wet kisses.

“Just nervous… I don’t– I can’t disappoint you and I– I don’t really have a lot of experience here,” he admits, his lips pressing needily against yours between words. 

“It’ll be fine, I’ll take care of you,” you promise, he nods against you. Even he’s surprised by how much he trusts you. You pull back, watching as he stares up at you, his eyes practically black. He’s panting heavily. You pull your shirt over your head, feeling his hips buck under you as your breasts come into view. He’d always known every inch of you would be perfect for him, and he was right. He was a genius after all. You move just enough to shed your pyjama pants, taking your underwear with them. You stuff your panties into Spencer’s slack pocket with a wink. He takes a shaky breath. 

“Thank you,” he exhales, eyes drinking you in. You giggle, shuffling up to straddle his chest. He swallows loudly, his mouth watering from the little glimpse he can get, craning his neck. “I’m so… glad we’re doing this,” he whispers. You chuckle again at his behaviour. You stroke his hair gently and his eyes flutter. He usually hated unexpected touch, but everything you did was blissful.

“Ready?” you ask softly. He nods, eyes fluttering back open, determined to get a glimpse of you that he can commit to memory. 

You lift up and shuffle yourself over top of his face. He gasps like he’s just seen God. You, spread open above him, glistening with want. He grips tightly at the sheets, trying to keep himself grounded as the heady smell of you fills his nose. He leans up and places a gentle, experimental kiss on your folds, whining as he does so. You hum softly, leaning forward to brace yourself against the headboard. Puffs of breath wash over your core for a moment, before Spencer leans up, flattening his tongue and laving it against you, up and down, slow and steady. You can tell he’s still finding his way, so you let yourself enjoy the gentle pleasure. You sigh encouragingly as he gets acquainted with the area, exploring it with the tip of his tongue. Never in a million years would he have guessed that you tasted so good. Though he was new at this, he knew anatomy well and knew the spots he’d be looking for. His tongue finds what he assumes to be your clit and he gives it a soft kiss, feeling your hips gently buck. Success. He swirls his tongue carefully around it, not wanting to overwhelm you. Your sighs increase in volume. Spencer takes a chance, lifting his hands and wrapping them around your thighs, pulling you down so you’re more seated on his face. You gasp slightly and he smiles, eagerly returning to his work. His tongue laps at you hungrily, getting into a rhythm. He breathes through his nose, not wanting to stop what he’s doing for even a moment. The taste of you gets stronger and stronger against his tongue as you approach your peak steadily. He groans at the taste. Your hand snakes down into his hair, gripping his long locks to keep yourself anchored. You moan above him, your head lolled forward against the headboard. As he starts to focus his tongue more pointedly on your clit, flicking gently like he read to do in a book once, your hips rut slightly. 

“Suck it,” you pant. He doesn’t register your words for a moment but when he does, he happily complies. His lips close around the little nub and he sucks carefully. Your hand tightens in his hair and you wail in pleasure. You grind yourself down onto his face as he suckles at you gently. You both know what’s coming and while Spencer is thrilled he could get you there, he almost doesn’t want it to end. It’s as if you read his mind. “Don’t stop,” you whine, your eyes squeezed shut, nails digging slightly into his scalp. He pulls you closer to his face, focusing all his efforts. He switches fumblingly between licks and sucks, but it seems to be working nonetheless as you become louder and louder. “Oh! Spencer!” you cry out, your whole body shuddering. He almost comes in his pants at the sound of it. “Ooooh!” you wail, reaching your peak. Your body tenses and then releases, going limp with bliss. His lips stop moving and he stares up at you, waiting for your next move. “Oh, that was amazing Spencer,” you sigh, sluggishly moving down his body until your faces are level. He licks his lips, gazing at you adoringly. You reach up to wipe his wet chin with a small smile.

“I was okay, then?” he chuckles nervously, his hand coming to your waist, a little unsure.

“What do you think, genius?” you tease, kissing his temple. He sighs and flutters his eyes closed. Everything had happened so fast, he wasn’t sure what this meant for the two of you and your friendship, so blinded by lust when he got over here. But you were kissing down his jaw and neck, not indicating that you were kicking him out, and he felt a little better for it. He notices that your lips are straying quite low, over his chest and stomach through his shirt. His eyes flutter open and his breath hitches as he sees you gazing seductively up at him.

“Wha–?” he stammers as you start to unbuckle his belt.

“Returning the favour,” you smile, pressing kisses where his shirt had ridden up. He moans softly, his brain starting to turn to mush once more.

“God, I love you,” he gasps. You both go still for a moment as his words sink in. He can’t believe he just said that, especially right now, with your head hovering over his crotch, even if he desperately means it. He opens his mouth to try and fix this but you beat him to it. You press a kiss just below his belly button.

“I love you too,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

xoxoxo

[adieutristana]

Well, reader and Jinx matching rings (maybe even wedding rings), and when Caitlin shoots Jinx's finger, she destroys this ring. Jinx’s honest reaction?

of course! thank you for the request <3

i decided to make them promise rings since she lost her middle finger. i hope that’s alright!

summary; jinx’s promise ring being destroyed, and fem!reader comforting her after the fact.

characters included; jinx

tags/warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of war/combat, mentions of poor mental health, medical talk ig? (patching up), s2 spoilers

men dni.

you’re sat in jinx’s hideout watching her tinker away with… something. a new type of explosive she’s experimenting with, she says. something that only requires one hexcrystal instead of two or three, since she can’t keep using so many. she’s unceremoniously hunched over the workbench, goggles over her eyes as she messes with the piece of scrap metal in her hand.

“having fun?”

you ask, sitting back in the chair she got you.

“mm… this is more difficult than i thought it would be. who knew this could be so challenging? but i like a challenge.”

she smirks to herself, not taking her eyes off of her project.

“well, you’ve never let ‘difficult’ stop you. you’re a right genius.”

“oh, stop. you’re biased!”

she teases, but she’s got the lightest rouge dusting her cheeks. got her. your gaze continues to follow your girlfriend, the way she moves so freely and carelessly. getting her face impossibly close to power tools, using her nails to clean up dirt, teeth capturing her bottom lip when she’s particularly stumped.

“alright! that’s enough for right now.”

she proclaims, standing up and placing her hands on her hips.

“already?” it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes since you asked her how she was doing.

“yeah! besides, i’ve got something for ‘ya.”

jinx springs up from her seat and skitters over to yours, quickly turning it around. you hear cheerful humming from behind you as she shuffles through piles of belongings, clearly looking for something.

"a-ha!"

she spins you back around, both hands on your seat and quickly rises. she's got something clasped in her left hand, but won't reveal it, not yet.

"what's that?"

"you have to be patient, toots! i've got a speech prepared, don't distract me!"

a speech? jinx never gave speeches. was she breaking up with you? so many thoughts began swirling through your mind as your palms began to sweat, gripping the chair- and then jinx revealed what she was hiding. a wooden box. a... ring box?

"isn't it a little soon to be getting engaged, jinx?"

you chuckle dryly, looking up at your girlfriend. she playfully rolls her eyes, and shakes her head, blue bang swaying.

"yes it is, that's why we're not getting engaged."

she clears her throat.

"not yet."

she turns her attention back to the box, and she opens it. inside lays a thick silver ring, with a circular blue gem in the middle. it looked eerily similar to a hexcrystal- but carved into a gemstone. 'JINX' is shakily engraved on the inside, something she undoubtedly did herself.

"this is a promise ring. i've been working on it for a while, and well... it's kind of stupid." she looks off to the side, sheepishly. "but this is me promising myself to you. to show you that i'm serious about this, ya know?"

you look over the ring for a moment, taking it in for all that it is. it's obviously unprofessional, the metal is a bit dull, and the shape isn't precise. but god dammit if it isn't the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. you glance back to your girlfriend, noticing her observing you- likely for any signs of disapproval. poor girl. as much as jinx had improved since meeting you, she still had the habit of expecting the worst. you didn't think that part would ever go away.

"jinx, it's beautiful. i- you made this?"

you ask, your eyes flickering back to the ring she's holding out. noticing how her grip is becoming a bit less stable.

"with my own two hands."

you chuckle, giving her a little grin.

"well? come on, put it on."

jinx doesn't need to be told twice. she gently takes hold of your left hand, removing the ring from the box and slowly slipping it onto your finger.

"there! it's on your middle finger, so your ring finger is open for the real thing."

not an ‘i do,’ but an ‘i will.’

you hold your hand up to the light, admiring how the ring catches it, before leaning forward to press a flurry of kisses to jinx's face.

"ah- hey! stop, you goof!"

she laughs, arms coming to wrap around you as a fit of giggles erupts from her.

"nope! i get to do this!"

it's not a week later when you arrive to jinx's hideout with a promise ring of your own to give her. a thick gold band to contrast the silver jinx had given you, with a rose quartz to accompany your own hexcrystal. pink and blue… she had a theme going, didn't she?

it wasn't handmade, but held the same sentimental value. you weren't as handy as jinx, and you'd learned to accept that a while ago. you had strengths in other areas, one of them being finding perfect gifts. it didn't take you long to find a jeweler in piltover who had exactly what you needed.

"oh, my god- you didn't have to do this."

she gasps, rosy eyes blown wide. both hands are on her cheeks as jinx gently approaches the open box in your hand.

"you promised yourself to me, didn't you? this is my promise to you."

jinx lets you put the ring onto her own left middle finger, her eyes never leaving your face. watching you so intently, she can feel her heart fluttering in her chest. what did she do to deserve you exactly? she could never quite figure it out, but that doesn't matter right now. you glance back up at her, a little smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

"i… you're too good to me, toots. really."

"i am not. i love you, remember?"

"mm… i love you too. i still think you're too good to me, though."

you let out a low chuckle.

"c'mere."

you bring the girl into your arms, tilting her chin with your index finger to gently bring her closer to you. pressing your lips to hers in a slow, gentle kiss.

oh- and of course, your name is engraved on the inside of the ring.

✧.*

you're posted at your girlfriend's hideout, going over notes in preparation for an exam. it's nerve wracking, sure, but the odd tranquility of jinx's desk is useful in its own way.

jinx swings open the door to the hideout, and as soon as she steps onto the panel of the wind turbine supporting her hideout, you can tell she's in hysterics.

the girl is wailing. she's pacing back and forth, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. but most importantly, her hand is gushing blood. you immediately drop your notes, papers scattering across the desk to rush over to your girlfriend.

"jinx? jinx?! what the hell happened, oh my god..."

you kneel down in front of jinx, taking her hand to examine it. her middle left finger is completely gone, blood rushing out from the wound. it seems to be a clean cut, at least, you won't have to deal with any extra bits to clean up.

"the ring, the ring, it's gone-"

she sobs, a hiccup following and her free hand clenching into a fist at her side. you gasp, looking up at jinx, then back down at her finger.

"jinx, seriously? you just lost your finger and you're worried about a damn ring?!"

you breathe out, exasperation and worry weighing heavy on your voice.

"the ring is important! it's- it's our promise!"

she cries, hanging her head low. jinx is so ashamed, it hurts your heart to see. you let go of her hand and frantically sweep along her workbench for anything. you knew you had a first aid kit somewhere, you'd gotten it after seeing jinx patch herself up in a way that would make any doctor shiver. but god damn it, where was it?

there.

you quickly swipe the kit and a bottle of peroxide from her workbench, rushing back over to jinx. you take one of her wrists and quickly guide her over to her beaten-up couch.

"sit."

"but-"

"sit."

jinx huffs and sits down on the couch, you sitting down beside her. you open the kit and bottle, pouring peroxide onto a cotton square and taking her hand into your lap.

"this is going to sting. a lot."

jinx winces at just the thought, but nods slowly. keeping her eyes on what you're doing-

"agh- fuck!"

she yelps, tossing her head back as you press the square to the wound, holding it there to both disinfect and stop the bleeding.

"i'm sorry, baby, it'll be over soon. i just need to stop the bleeding."

you coo, trying to do anything in your power to calm her down. yet it's obvious the injury itself isn't what she's upset about.

"that- that fucker vi is with shot it off, she shot the ring off..."

jinx seethes through gritted teeth, trying to keep her composure as you hold the peroxide to her wound. ah.. that makes sense. caitlyn was never fond of jinx, especially after the stunt she pulled with the council room. part of you was simply grateful that she didn't just take jinx out, as much as you knew she was probably trying to.

jinx was always putting herself in so much danger, both for the sake of necessity and the fact her ego was just so damn inflated. she said it herself- she just can't seem to die. but she got impossibly close way more than you would've liked her to.

you take out a roll of gauze and begin to wrap it around her hand, the wound being in the center of it all. it's far from professional, but this will have to do until you can get her proper medical attention. which you were trying to avoid talking about, since jinx was the last person to ever admit she needed help.

"jinx, i'm just happy that you're alive. i don't care about the ring right now. what if she had shot you somewhere more... vital?"

"then i would've gotten to keep the ring."

god damn it. she could not be serious right now. you finish wrapping her hand, bleeding having come to a halt and wound disinfected. you'd grab some painkillers in a moment. you quickly take both of her cheeks in your hands, forcing her to look you directly in the eye. the cold metal of your own ring against soft skin.

"jinx. again, i'm happy that you're here, and you're alive, and losing your finger was the worst thing that happened. i will get you a new ring, first thing tomorrow. okay?"

she sighs, her lips coming into a slight pout. at the very least, she's not crying anymore.

"but..."

you press your index finger to her lips, shushing her.

"no. just because you don't have the ring anymore doesn't mean the promise went out the window, okay?" you whisper, brushing your lips against her forehead. "i still love you, and still have promised myself to you. that won't change.

jinx closes her eyes, and leans into your kiss. she seems to have finally resigned, and is snaking her arms around your waist.

"i just- i love you so much..."

"i know, baby. i love you too, which is why i'll get you a new ring. a better one, even."

your hand still cupping her face, you lean in to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

"just stay here, with me. you've had a hell of a day."

[comatosebunny09]

apt 302 | sylus q.

— summary: at first, your new neighbor was as mysterious as he was handsome. after taking some time to get to know him—or forcing your way into his quiet life—you realize looks can be deceiving. — cw: gn reader, neighbors au, neighbors to friends to lovers, profanity, innuendoes, jealousy, misunderstandings, stalker ex, alcohol use, guns mentioned, self-indulgent, allusions to reincarnation, angst, pet names, sylus being an insufferable gentleman, slice of life — dividers by: @omi-resources — notes: this grew way longer than i expected, soooooo you’re gonna hate me for what comes next. anyways, thank you so much for reading! — now playing: my favorite person now - she was pretty ost — tagging: @alfredosaws, @chuppiechanchan @hao-ming-8 @antonneva @sunsets-and-crows @leighsartworks216 @grabby-smitten @nebulorra @minniestarmj @elysiums-light @saiaise @queenofstresss @beewilko @aetherscribit @libriomancer @world-of-hearts @awkwardnurse @huachengnism

Information Technology isn’t as cushy of a field as you initially thought.

Sure, you have a desk job doing the most mundane of things—working the help desk, troubleshooting devices, re-imaging computers. But your job isn’t without its drawbacks. 

Sometimes, the days are long and arduous. The constant customer interaction doesn’t help matters; you’re a bit of an introvert, requiring five business days to recover from just a few hours of socializing. 

So, forgive you for seeking a little respite in the form of your favorite set of pajamas and fuzzy slippers as you ease into your apartment. 

The weight of the world sloughs off your shoulders when the door leading inside clicks shut behind you. You sigh gratefully, the sound of your keys clattering against your entryway table, intermingling with that of your AC humming to life.

You hang your bag and sweater on the coat rack. Trade your uncomfortable shoes for house slippers, the soreness in your heels slowly retreating. The last vestiges of sunlight creep through the slits of your blinds to bathe your home in its ethereal glow before ducking behind the horizon. 

Your apartment is humble. Has a natural, minimalistic vibe with bits of decor displaying your personality sprinkled throughout. You already pay the price of a kidney and two lungs to stay here. No use investing in posh furniture when your job sometimes requires you to pick up and go at the drop of a hat.

Your stomach growls whilst you draw your curtains shut and turn on some ambient lighting via your phone. You’ll eat soon, you promise. For now, you’re on a mission. 

Quietly, you move through your home in search of your laundry area, thoroughly prepared to slip into your PJs following a shower to jumpstart your weekend. 

Too bad a pile of sopping wet clothes awaits you when you open your dryer door. 

“Goddammit,” said under your breath as you mash the power button. It won’t turn on. Figures. You kick the offending appliance. Stupid thing must be out again. 

You had set your clothes to dry before you left for work. You were looking forward to snuggling up with wine and your favorite show, donned in comfy clothes. Seems your dryer had other plans.

You should’ve replaced it months ago when it first started acting up. You had hoped to salvage it a little longer; appliances don’t come cheap these days. Besides, you’ve had a darling neighbor to fix it each time. To extend its lifespan. 

Speaking of which—

Chewing your lip, you pad over your cold, hardwood floor to snatch your phone from the coffee table. Fall onto your couch cushions with a devious smile twitching your lips. It’s getting late, so you don’t think to badger him into tinkering with your dryer tonight. However, perhaps he’ll let you utilize his. At least until you can use your day off tomorrow to shop for a replacement.

You hover your thumb over his contact, his name flanked by crow emojis. Contemplate calling him, but what if he’s busy? This is usually about the time he’s leaving. Instead, you settle for opening your messaging app, already conjuring an excuse.

(You): 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛💥💥💥 (Sylus): lol (Sylus): good morning to you too. (You): 😒😒😒 dude it’s like 6  (Sylus): 🤷‍♂️ (Sylus): im just now getting up. long day at the office.  (Sylus): whats up? (You): are you busy tonight?? (Sylus): not really. 😏 what did you have in mind ? (You): pause. not like that (Sylus): 😢 (You): my dryer’s out again (Sylus): ah. want me to take a look? (You): nah you already do so much (You): is it cool if i use yours tho? 😬😬😬 (You): i’ll bring you booze (Sylus): lol (Sylus): its fine sweetie. doors unlocked. ill be in the shower. help yourself. (You): 🙏🙏🙏

You take your time gathering your saturated clothes into a basket. On your way out, you snag a bottle of Merlot from your fridge.

No matter how often you’ve been here, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to how much more… put together Sylus’ place is compared to yours.

It suits him—the black and red furniture, the stylish accents littering his apartment. It smells delightful inside, a mixture of mahogany and amber enmeshed with remnants of food. Soulful jazz flows from a record player, fitting the sepia-toned glow of floor lamps and candles flickering on every other surface.

You toe the door shut behind you. Feel so small and out of place amid his decor. You’ve only recently started coming here, having spent much of your time together inside your apartment. Regardless, you navigate his space like it’s your second home, finding his washer and dryer set.

After starting your clothes in the dryer, you wander back to the living room, hands stuffed in the pockets of your cardigan. You take some time to admire the atmosphere. Fingers skim over the various vinyls organized on a built-in bookcase on the wall.

You snort with a half-smile. You know so little about your neighbor, yet you know just enough to be this comfortable with him.

He’s a music buff; that much is for sure. He’s clearly made of money if the luxurious furniture and his car are anything to go by. You don’t press him about what he does for a living. Figure he values his privacy above all else, unlike you.

You’re an open book. The primary yapper in your acquaintanceship, prattling on about your life and aspirations. And he just sits there, wordlessly nodding with a polite smile behind the rim of his glass. Where you would otherwise be wary of being in someone’s home like this, you feel safe around him in a way that almost terrifies you.

“Admiring the decor,” teases a voice from behind. 

You jolt, spinning around like you’ve been caught stealing. You’re met with a smirk beneath scarlet eyes, twinkling with mischief. Strands of white cling to Sylus’ forehead, damp from the warm spray of his shower. He towels his hair dry, maneuvering around the living set towards you.

“Hey, you,” you greet, trying to play it cool. Like your heart isn’t hammering and heat isn’t branching into your cheeks. You attempt to maintain eye contact. It’s increasingly difficult to do so with his physique peeking through his t-shirt and sweats like that.

“Hey, yourself.” There’s amusement in the deep gravel of his voice. A smile in his eyes as he studies you, draping his towel around his shoulders.

You swallow. Try to divert the subject, motioning to his record collection. “You got some new tunes, I see.”

A chuckle is dredged from the bowels of his chest. You feel it pull in your stomach. “Sure did. Got something you might like.” 

God help you as he reaches around you, the fine hairs littering your body standing on end, your mouth agape like a fish out of water.

Unconsciously, you step back, your spine softly thudding against the records display. Your heartbeat’s on a warpath, and you swallow against the dryness of your throat as the veiny, sinewy muscle in his forearm stains your periphery.

He gives you a bemused look before slowly peeling a record from the shelf behind you. Steps back to fish out the vinyl and settle it on the platter, replacing the record that was just playing. 

You release a breath you were unaware of holding. Good job playing it cool, dumbass.

“You alright?” Sylus quizzes with a raised brow. “You seem a little on edge tonight, sweetie.”

You sigh, schooling an unconvincing smile onto your face. Try to ignore how the term of endearment glides off his tongue so effortlessly. You wonder how many other people he addresses like that. 

“Work was…rough today. Kicked my ass. I’m tired.” 

A snarling sound invades the space between you, heard over the gentle croon of the new music. Your eyes fall to your stomach. You rub it placatingly. In all your haste to have some dry friggin’ clothes, you forgot to eat. 

“And hungry, too,” you sheepishly add.

You glance up, and Sylus’ gaze tracks from your stomach to your face. He smirks knowingly, motioning with a nod toward his kitchen. 

“Figured you didn’t eat yet. I made carbonara if you’d like some.”

You smile wryly at his back as he pads away, carrying the scent of cedarwood and bergamot with him. Where would you be without such a doting neighbor? 

You track him to the kitchen. Leaning against the threshold, you watch him procure a bottle of water from his fridge. It’s so very small, dwarfed by his massive hand.

“I suddenly got called for a Teams meeting five minutes ago.” 

Your heart drops, the smile nearly falling from your face. And here you thought you’d have his company over dinner.

Suddenly, he taps your nose, drawing you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t noticed when he got closer, swaddled in the static of your bodies being so close. “Where did you run off to,” he rasps, searching your gaze for something. 

The proximity of your bodies grows stifling, his warm breath glazing over your skin, dizzying. When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he steps back, leaving you shell-shocked and utterly confused. 

“In the meantime, make yourself at home. You know where everything is,” he says, brushing past you with an air of finality. 

You strain your ears for the noise of a distant door shutting before you make your move, rummaging through his cupboards and drawers for a plate and cutlery. After you’ve scooped a decent helping of food onto your plate, you settle onto one of his velvet couches, cross-legged and shoveling food into your maw. 

The fluttering of wings piques your interest. You’ve hardly any time to acknowledge him before a tuft of black, iridescent feathers shines from Sylus’ coffee table. The crow studies you curiously, ingesting you with his beady eyes before he preens himself.

“Me-fith-toe!” you greet around a mouthful of food. 

Said crow ducks away, dodging errant crumbs and spit flying from your mouth, cawing in protest. You give him a rueful look. 

Sylus has a soft spot for animals. You noted it the first time you entered his apartment, greeted by his boisterous companion. Funny; he doesn’t look like the type to have such an eccentric pet. 

But Sylus has found numerous ways of pleasantly surprising you, revealing parts of himself to you bit by agonizing bit.

“Chicken?” you say after finally swallowing, offering a forkful of pasta to the bird. Mephisto scrutinizes the food before resigning himself to pecking at it. You smile fondly, your eyes crinkling with mirth. “Mephisto, you cannibal.”

Lulled by the occasional flap of Mephisto’s wings and Sylus’ even tone murmuring things of business somewhere far off in his home, you fall into a familiar rhythm, quietly waiting for your clothes to dry.

You spend the remainder of your evening in your neighbor’s company, drinking Merlot and judging each other’s music tastes, long after your pajamas have dried and settled in the dryer.

“So, have you boned yet?”

You choke on your waffle. Pound on your chest with the heel of your palm to dislodge it. You turn narrowed eyes on the source of the question. She merely shrugs from across the table, sipping her mimosa as if she’s asked the most innocent thing. 

“Bitch.”

“What?” She appears nonplussed, setting her champagne flute down with a definitive clack. All serious when she returns your stare over crossed arms, and you know you’re in for it. 

“You talk about the guy so much I figured you would’ve already, ya know…” The humping gesture she makes under the table is a bit much. 

You blanch. “No, dumbass, I haven’t boned.” Your voice peters towards the end of your sentence. And you peer down at the napkin folded in your lap, heat prickling your face. 

You won’t deny Sylus is good-looking. More like he could be someone modeling Prada on a catwalk. Can’t pretend you haven’t entertained the thought of being a little closer to him, too. More than just the late nights spent talking or him fixing something you broke.

You shake your head. Of all the times you’ve been tucked away in either of your apartments, he’s never made a move on you. Sure, he’s said some pretty suss things. Flirted with you outside of your usual banter. 

And maybe he’s done things to confuse the ever-loving hell out of you—cooked you breakfast when you were drunk off your ass and hungover the next morning. Lended you one of his expensive record players. Shacked up at your place a few times under the guise of “coming to get Mephisto.” But—

Nah. He’s not like that. You’re just neighbors, right? Unofficial friends. Friends hang out all the time, right?

“He’s not like that,” you say brattishly, stuffing more food into your face. At least not with you. 

You don’t miss your coworker’s fox-like grin spreading in your periphery. She taps her cheek thoughtfully, watching you like a smug sibling about to snitch. 

“Sure, sure. If you say so. He’s still a man, though. He might not have tried you yet—”

“Hush,” you interject. The table shakes, cups rattling as you saw into your sausage with your fork and butter knife. You’re done with this conversation.

Try as you might, however, you can’t banish your thoughts revolving around him. Especially with your coworker watching you like that, silently egging you on.

He’s not that kind of guy. 

He’s still a man, though. 

You’ve repeated it like a mantra throughout your day, even as you mindlessly clacked away at your computer. 

Work was a blur. An exhausting blur. Day gave way to the soothing exhale of night, and you were finally nestled in the quiet sanctuary of your apartment, on your couch, entertaining yourself with a game of Uno. It wasn’t much fun playing alone, but you needed a distraction from the mess of your mind when your favorite show couldn’t help. 

It’s a quarter past 9 when a shuffling sound in the breezeway outside your apartment catches your attention. It’s accompanied by the echoed rasp of a recognizable voice, chuckling and murmuring indiscernible things. 

You peel yourself from your couch as if on autopilot, nose pressed against the cold metal of your door as you peer through the peephole.

It’s your nightly ritual—waiting like an overzealous puppy to greet or send off your neighbor. You don’t always get the luxury of saying goodnight in person. Sometimes, he’s gone for days—weeks—at a time. You don’t know the semantics of his job, but you make it your mission to help assuage whatever burdens he shoulders whenever you can.

He’s there to help you, after all. Whether with a glass of wine, a warm meal, or his company.

So, forgive you for wanting to be a decent neighbor. And you would be tonight if not for the scene that passes through the fisheye of your peephole.

It’s Sylus, clad in something flattering and expensive. There’s no mistaking his broad back and shoulders. The purl of his voice, the wispy dusting of alabaster hair on his collar. But the smaller frame with him, well—

Your heart plummets into your stomach.

She’s pretty from what you can glean from the limited view of your peephole. Donned in a dress that’s form-fitting, voice high and light. Giggling silly things, fastened to Sylus’ side, held there by a virile arm draped around her middle. She’s drunk if the sloppy lean of her body is anything to go by. Sylus angles himself near her ear to whisper something, ushering in a new set of giggles.

You watch with your breath corked in your esophagus until they slide into his apartment together, their enmeshed voices fading from the stilled walls of the hallway.

Huh. Well, so much for him not being that type of guy. 

You grapple with this new revelation, a furrow between your brows, hands falling listlessly at your sides. Numb as you drag yourself back to your couch, bouncing comically on the cushions.

You don’t even know why you’re upset. He's a grown man with a…life. You think. 

It’s the first time you’ve witnessed him bringing someone to his place other than you, but it’s only natural for a guy like him to have options. He’s far from hideous. Has the gift of gab, for God’s sake. He’s charming and the very definition of masculine. 

It just stings a little, knowing that it’s not…you that he’s touching like that. 

So, you are definitely not flinging Uno cards onto the coffee table. Muttering things to yourself, gripping the stack in your hands so tightly, the plastic squeaks. What’s even got your undies in a bunch? The man’s not yours. You’ve never screwed around. Never really showed signs of wanting to, so it makes sense he would seek pleasures of the flesh elsewhere. His world doesn’t solely revolve around you as much as you would like for it to.

You’re halfway through a third round of angry card-flinging before a soft rap at your door nearly sends you some 30 feet into the air.

Stomping to your entrance, you peek through the peephole, and your heart works overtime when you catch sight of a wash of black and scarlet.

Internally, you scold yourself for how gullible you are. You throw the door open like you weren’t just cursing him and his stupid existence moments ago. Try to act nonplussed, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe with a haughty look. 

Of course, he would smell good. Look good, propped against the threshold like that, an amused cant to his lips, his physique devastating beneath the tight cling of his turtleneck.

“Hey,” he greets, the sound breathy and easy like warmed honey. 

“Hey, yourself.”

He studies you for a bit. Eyes flicker over your face, and you tamp down the sparkling rush of warmth that wades over your skin at the attention. Even when you’re mad at him, your attraction still finds an annoying way of creeping through the seams.

“This is going to sound incredibly strange, and feel free to tell me to piss off, but…do you mind if I crash on your couch for the night?”

You stand up straight. Blink owlishly, mouth opening and closing. “Huh?” is all you’re able to muster. 

He chuckles, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this side of bashful. “Yeah. It’s a…bit of a long story, sweetie.”

“O-Okay,” you say, rigidly moving aside.

“Thanks.” The charm is back on, turned up to max capacity. He brushes past you into your apartment, falling onto your couch with a huff. Quirks a brow at the mishap on your table, the carnage having spilled onto the floor. 

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but were you playing Uno by yourself?”

You ignore him, plopping cross-legged on a floor cushion adjacent to him. Bypassing the tick in your brow, you look off to the side, fighting the embarrassment threatening to take hold of your visage. Shouldn’t he be across the hall, entertaining his company?

“Shut up and grab some cards,” you grumble to dispel the green-eyed thoughts stewing in your mind.

“Bossy.” But he doesn’t contest you, gathering the abused cards to shuffle them. 

The remainder of your evening slides by with comfortable quips. With booze and a break to catch up on Love Is Blind—somehow, he’d roped you into watching it. 

You had no idea he was such a sap. Nearly forgotten how miffed you were mere hours ago. 

He assuaged your worries with an explanation as the sun crept over the city. 

The girl in his apartment was an old colleague who’d gotten drunk and convinced herself that she was anything but. 

Being a good samaritan, Sylus brought her to his place to sober up since the apartment complex wasn’t too far from the main strip of bars. He didn’t want any issues when she inevitably woke up. Messing with drunk people wasn’t his thing. 

So that’s how he ended up here, inhabiting your couch like he’d always been a part of the decor. 

He didn’t owe you an explanation. You were just friends. Still, you couldn’t help the quiet smile that twitched your lips after he cleared the air.

At some point in the morning, you both fell asleep. He looked all serene, too big for your sofa, but comfortable. You watched his lashes flutter from your place on the floor, his lips parting with soundless exhales. Even in sleep, he maintained that guarded aura, his arms folded across his chest. 

You were bleary-eyed, gathering yourself from the hardwood to fetch a blanket to drape over him. He shifted, and he was so pretty with the sun bathing him in an angelic glow like that, his hair bright like a halo. 

You were about to retreat to your bedroom when an abrupt knock tore you from your reverie. You glanced at your guest, ensuring he went undisturbed. He needed the rest. He was a night owl, and something about the sun vexed him, so he typically spent his days sleeping when you weren’t impeding on his time.

You moved to the door, foregoing the peephole to open it. Big mistake.

On the other side stood Little Miss Pretty from the night prior, impatiently tapping her foot. Her hair was flattened on one side, and her dress was askew. By the looks of it, sleep hadn’t been kind to her.

“Hi, good morning,” she sighed, schooling her expression into fake politeness. She straightened herself as best she could, but the white patch of dried slob staining her chin did little to help her plight. You bit back a snicker. 

“I’m looking for a friend. He lives across from you. His name’s Skye.”

You quirked a brow at that. Skye? Oh, honey…

You wondered how many other people Sylus had fed a fake alias to. Or if Sylus was even his real name.

“Haven’t seen him,” you chirped over crossed arms. Pulled the door slightly closed behind you, barring the woman from getting a peek at him, nuzzled up so cozily on your couch.

She sighed with slumped shoulders. A childish pout warped her lips. Her voice shifted into something more bratty. “You sure? Tall guy, white hair, red eyes? You can’t miss ‘em.”

“Not ringing a bell, hun. Sorry.”

It was taking all of you to keep up this ruse. You were fighting so hard to tamp down your amusement. This woman reminded you of an antagonist in a Korean drama, the way she was kicking and huffing about. 

“Where the hell did he go,” she groused. You watched her draw her phone from the pocket of her fur coat, your throat growing dry. 

Your blood turned to ice when a familiar ringtone chimed in your apartment behind you. You stiffened comically; mouth hinged open with shock.

The woman’s expression morphed into one of suspicion. She tried to look inside your home, the upbeat ring of Sylus’ phone still flooding the uncomfortable silence.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to assert her way inside. “What the fu—”

“Hey, girlie. Back the hell off before I call the police,” you warned with a hand pushed to her sternum. She insisted on being unruly, so you snatched your taser from the entryway table, the telltale blue sparks and sharp whip of static causing the woman to jolt back with alarm.

“You’re both insane!” she shouted from the hallway, the stomp of her heels reverberating off the walls as she made her way to the stairwell. 

With a relieved sigh deflating your chest, you eased the door shut. Leaned against it, glancing at the man of the hour. He was still fast asleep, his leg dangling off the edge of your sofa. You smirked knowingly, shaking your head as you disappeared into your bedroom. 

You’d let him sleep for as long as he needed. And you’d give him shit when he awoke about his taste in acquaintances. 

(Sylus): hungry? (You): a little. was gonna make some ramen if you want (Sylus): 🤢 (Sylus): that stuffs terrible for your digestion sweetie.  (Sylus): how about i make you dinner instead ? (Sylus): at the supermarket. need anything? (You): 😲😲😲 (You): you keep spoiling me and i might think you like me (Sylus): 😏 (You): nvm. no don’t need anything. lemme know when you’re back (You): i can help with groceries (Sylus): now who likes who? (You): fkdkos (Sylus): ? (You): sorry fat fingers 

You have a nasty habit of not using your peephole as of late.

Your apartment came with one for a reason. Sure, your neighborhood’s been pretty tame since you’ve moved here. But that doesn’t mean the occasional weirdo doesn’t slip past security, roaming the halls and startling the other tenants. 

You’ve found yourself forgoing the use of it a lot lately, given the only person who typically knocks on your door is the guy across the hall. And he usually calls or texts before he bugs you, but that doesn’t stop him from being spontaneous. You suppose today is one of those such cases after he manipulated you with dinner. 

Maybe his hands are full, you muse, unlocking your door. Though you’re doubtful he can’t handle a few bags. You’ve seen him in action at the community gym, thick cords of muscle rippling beneath a tan stretch of skin. 

You draw the door open with a smile, expecting to see a customary thatch of white. What confronts you instead sends a tide of dread washing over your innards. 

“Oh, thank God you’re home,” breathes a voice you haven’t heard in months. A voice that still makes your body stiffen, and your blood run cold. 

When your senses return, you step back into your apartment, thoroughly intending to slam the door in your ex’s face. They’re quicker, however, wedging themselves in the gap before you can shut it. Grabbing for you, a crazed look warping their features.

“Baby, please! Talk to me! I miss you!”

You bat at their hand, trying vainly to crush them, to scare them off. It’s to no avail, and you wonder if they’re coked up, giving you a run for your money as they try to bully their way into your home.

There’s a softball bat propped on the wall, and your fingers brush the base of it in your attempt to grab it. Something to defend yourself since your taser’s out of reach, tucked somewhere in your bag. 

The sounds of your struggle intermingle, your voice strained and panting, please please please, and your ex’s caught between sobs of your name. 

Just a little further. Just—

Suddenly, there’s no more resistance in your door. You stumble against it, a wild look in your eyes. And then, there is the noise of a brief scuffle. Of a back being shoved against a wall, of rusting plastic bags, of “Who the fuck are you?!”

Amid your panicked frenzy, you glance up to see a back to you. Barring you from the view beyond your threshold, and your body’s awash with relief as you register your savior’s form.

“You would do well to piss off,” seethes Sylus, and there’s an edge to his voice you’ve never heard before. You feel it furling in your stomach, burning your lungs. And in this moment, you don’t know who to be more afraid of.

Your ex makes a sound of protest, but you imagine the cut of Sylus’ eyes deterring them.

There is the scuffling of shoes across the concrete flooring of the breezeway, and you listen with bated breath until the cacophony fades at the foot of the stairs, willing your heart to ease down.

Scarlet eyes shift to you, brows knit with concern. “Who was that?” Sylus asks, tone cautious as if he doesn’t want to startle you more than you’ve already been.

You right yourself, smoothing out the wrinkles of your clothes. Finally grab your bat, waving it intimidatingly as you step aside to let your neighbor in.

“My stupid ex. Just know you saved their life. ‘cause I was gonna—” You make swinging gestures, the metal bat swooping in the air. The corners of Sylus’ eyes crinkle. 

“Slow down before you hurt yourself.” He kneels to retrieve the bags he’d tossed down in his haste to intervene. You scurry over to help, gathering up spilled food.

Once you’re both inside, the bags placed haphazardly on the counter, you’re seated on your sofa, nursing the rush of adrenaline still spuming through you like the hot rush of a geyser. 

“You need to get a restraining order,” says Sylus. He emerges from your kitchen with a tense set to his jaws, two bottles of Angry Orchard clasped between his fingers. 

Plopping down beside you, an arm draped over the headrest, he shoves a bottle into your hand, side-eyeing you as he throws his head back for a swig. 

You babysit the cider, the crisp condensation of it serving to ground you. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m not asking, sweetie.”

You bristle under the weight of his tone, feeling much like a scolded child. You know this. Should’ve done it long ago the first time your ex took it upon themselves to do surprise pop-ups at your place—at your job.  

“And an alarm system.”

“I know, I know.”

“I can take you right now to look for one—”

“I got it, Sy! Fuck, I-I got it.” You release a weighted sigh, warring with yourself. 

Not only do you feel silly for being so lackadaisical with your life. But now, you feel even worse for the seemingly impenetrable silence that settles between you. You didn’t mean to yell, frustration and adrenaline having burbled to the surface. He was just worried. No need to take your emotions out on him. 

Sylus exhales slowly, an unreadable expression descending onto his face whilst staring at the wall.

“Sorry,” you murmur, unconsciously patting his quad. You don’t miss how he stiffens; don’t miss the tight coiling of tendons in his neck. You retract your hand, instead drumming your fingers along the bottom of your bottle.

“I’m assuming this isn’t the first time this has happened,” queries Sylus in an attempt to dispel the tense atmosphere.

You shake your head, shrinking into yourself. Stare at your lap, pulling at some frayed threads in your bottoms. 

“How did they even manage to get up here?”

You shrug. The security guards at the gates aren’t always the most attentive. Besides, sometimes, the pin pad leading into the lobby malfunctions, making it easier for anyone to just slip into your complex.

Unprompted, you begin to bare yourself, explaining the possibilities of why your ex showed up.

Sylus listens attentively. Doesn’t interrupt you, watching the subtle shifts of your expressions as you speak. 

You tell him that things weren’t bad in the beginning about two years ago. How your ex said and did all the right things, and they were wonderful. But they wanted something you weren’t ready for. You had some growing up to do, so you broke things off. Moved to another city, started a new job. 

You didn’t bank on them following you. 

The visits were random at first. Occasional run-ins at the park, the bar. Things soon blossomed into something more concerning when your ex found your new address after you relocated to another part of the city to ease the stress of the commute. 

This was their second time making an appearance at your door. You knew you should’ve done something to protect yourself sooner, but you didn’t think much of it then. Figured they would live and let be. Today proved otherwise. 

“You’re grossly naive, sweetie.” 

You snort before gulping down the remnants of your cider. “Way to make me feel better.”

He chuckles, and it’s comforting, your thighs pressing together amid your dinky couch. “It’s what I’m here for. But I could understand how you could drive someone to such extremes.”

You glare at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means…” 

Before you know what’s about, he’s panning in, flooding your vision with the scarlet shine of his eyes. With the wispy dance of his lashes until his breath fans over your molten cheeks. Limber fingers sneak beneath your chin, slightly tilting your head back. 

Warmth wades over you. Your breath swells in your chest. Lips purse as a mysterious shade of burgundy leaks over his irises. His voice drops a few octaves, husky, the sound of it pinching in your stomach.

“It means that you’re someone worth fighting for.”

You scoff, shaking yourself away from his hold. Ignore the bashfulness creeping into your face in favor of being a cheeky little shit. 

“All right, Li Shang. Getting a little too serious over there.”

He huffs a laugh in response, popping up to grab another round of ciders from your fridge.

Ingredients sat untouched on the countertop as your evening eased by. You’d settled on a pizza, catching up on shows and talking, long after the moon had pinned itself to the center of the sky. 

Sylus promised to teach you how to use a gun. He had plenty and would carve out time in his schedule to take you to a range. He didn’t press much after, instead letting the weight of your evening melt from your shoulders. 

He was reluctant to leave you, even after sunbeams spilled through your blinds and you snoozed so quietly, cheek propped against his shoulder. 

His hand never left your thigh. Possessive in its touch as he mirrored your affections from before. 

It’s strange.

Today is your birthday. You’re enjoying yourself, filled with enough alcohol to tranquilize a small goat. 

Your co-workers had dragged you out. Surprised you with dinner, a cake. Took you to the strip of bars lining the streets adjacent to your apartment complex. You were all smiles until your cheeks ached, and you’d nearly thrown up from laughing so much. 

Still, you feel…empty. Like something is missing. Or someone. 

You look at your phone for the umpteenth time. Scroll through your messages, reliving the moment in your head. 

Sylus was the first to wish you a happy birthday. It made you swell with overwhelming happiness, knowing he’d woken up so early to be the first to say it. You don’t think you’ve ever cried harder when he sent a voice message of him singing “Happy Birthday.”

God, for everything he was good at, poor baby couldn’t hold a note to dig himself out of a hole. Still, you cherished the gesture, lying in bed for the first hour you’d been awake, replaying said message and rolling around your bed like an enamored teen.

Even now, you replay the voice note, holding the speaker to your ear. It’s hard to hear it amid the live band playing and the merriment around you at the bar. Try as you might to enjoy what remains of your night, you can’t keep your thoughts from drifting back to a certain smug figure clad in black. 

(You): 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛💥💥💥 (Sylus): hows it going birthday babe? (You): 😭😭😭 (You): u shuld be her e (Sylus) im sorry sweetie. i had some work to catch up on.  (Sylus): you must be having a good time. 😏 (You): fuk wrk 🖕🖕🖕 (You): am not drink ur dronk (Sylus): lol. you sound plastered. (Sylus): do i need to come rescue you? (You): hum (Sylus): ? (You): hone (You): home (Sylus): 🫤 (Sylus): we need to have a serious talk about you enabling autocorrect. (You): r u (You): home (Sylus): about to be. why ?? (Sylus): sweetie?

Somehow, you find yourself staring at the glossy, black numbers embossed on the top center of his door. 302. It’s ingrained in your memory. You’d probably find your way to his apartment with your eyes closed, driven to it by the familiar smell and homeliness it exudes. 

You’re still a little tipsy. Took some time to sober up as best you could before ditching your friends and catching an Uber back to your complex. You had enough sense to gather everything you’d shown up with. Didn’t hitch a ride with any strangers regardless of how many of them tried to pull you into their arms as you stumbled out of the bar. 

You had a one-track mind. Only wanted to spend the rest of your birthday with him.

With a goofy smile plastered on your face, you knock on his door. You’re singing that infectious song you can’t get out of your head when it swings open.

“Apateu-pateu, apateu-pateu,” you chant, shaking your hips from side to side.

He greets you with an omniscient smirk, eyes softening whilst leaning against the doorframe. “Well, hello, birthday babe.”

“Sup!” you return a little too enthusiastically, pitching forward until Sylus steadies you with his hands. You giggle like a drunken fool, peering at him. Hadn’t realized how good his hands felt, searing through the fabric of your top. 

Come to think of it, you hadn’t noticed many things about him before. His lips are a pretty shade of pink. Skin textured, nose sharp, cheeks high. Little flecks of amber dwell between the scarlet rinse of his eyes. His hair falls into his face, damp from the shower he probably had before answering the door.

“I take it you had a good night,” he says, gaze painting a steady triangle between your eyes and mouth.

“Almost,” you whisper back, surprised by the huskiness of your voice. You lose yourself in the idle stir of his eyes. In the fragility of his smile, and you feel so safe in his hands like this. 

You don’t know what compels you to do it. To conquer the space of hot, dizzying breaths between you. But, you sort of…well…

Your inhibitions hit the floor. With your fingers wrapped tenderly around his wrists, you angle yourself closer to kiss him. You almost pull away when he stiffens. But he seemingly relaxes, and his lips cautiously move against yours as he unconsciously guides you closer.

You cling to the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He encircles your waist in his powerful arms, fastening you to the hard press of his body. He kisses you like he’s waited lifetimes to do it, one hand molding around the apple of your cheek. 

When your tongue sloppily prods the barrier of his teeth, he bristles. Draws away from you with a resounding smack, blinking wildly. You’re confused. Your heart sinks. You try again to draw him back in, but he gently pushes you away, shaking his head to dispel the bleariness. To chase away the spell that’s fallen over you. 

“Baby, wait. No. Not…not like this,” he rasps through kiss-swollen lips, holding you by your hips. You’re wounded. A hot flush of embarrassment washes over you, and your brows knit together like those of a confused puppy.

“Wha-what’s wrong? Did I—am I—”

“No, no, you’re…you're perfect,” he soothes with a chuckle, a thumb gliding over your bottom lip. “Beautiful, even. I just…I don’t think now is a good time to do this.”

“Oh.” You deflate, a scorching film of tears clouding your vision. “Oh, okay. Um, I’ll just—yeah, I’ll go. I’ll…see you around, I guess.”

You slide out of his arms, too mortified to look back as you fumble with your keys. After he murmurs a hoarse, “good night.” Did you misread him before? Misinterpret his actions, his words? 

You’re numb as you sink into your couch. Sobriety slowly creeps in. Stray tears blister your cheeks, but you don’t full-on sob. Can’t bring yourself to, instead laughing hysterically with your face buried in your hands, swallowed by the bleak loneliness of your apartment.

Happy Birthday, indeed.

[banzonism]

YOU BELONG WITH ME

one-shot

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: romance, drama, comedy, angst, fluff, slow burn, love pining

tags: football player! jk, photographer! jk, student leader! reader, high school au, chilhood friend, boy next door jk, bff drama, friends to lovers, yeontan cameo

synopsis: Beneath the light banter and playful teasing of childhood friends lies a deep well of unspoken feelings, simmering just out of reach. Quick glances shared during laughter hold more meaning than anyone dares to acknowledge. But everything shifts dramatically when a heartfelt letter reveals unexpected truths, shattering the carefully constructed lives they have built. Will they find their way back to each other and uncover the truth of their feelings? In the end, they must find out if they really belong with each other.

words count: 10k

notes: hello everyone! here's another one-shot from me, and let me tell you i've been thinking about this fic a lot lot lot bc i'm a sucker of this kind of romance, sorry.... inspired by TS "you belong with me” mv but with a twist! if you’re a swiftie, you’ll probably notice quite a few nods to the iconic mv—incorporated some of its most memorable scenes into the story. hope you enjoy this fun, nostalgic ride <3

p.s. dont come for my girl Sana—she might be a little extra in the beginning scenes, but trust me she’s worth it! & threw a Yeontan moment to honor him... fly high, little one 🕊

The gym buzzed with energy as students rushed around, their laughter and conversations creating a lively atmosphere for the school’s event preparations. Colorful decorations filled the room, and tables were piled high with craft supplies. As the student council leader, you moved through the crowd with a clipboard, checking off tasks and motivating your excited team.

“Hey, Miss Y/N!” called out a freshman, her face showing worry. “Can you help us with this banner? It’s too high!”

“Got it!” you answered with determination, quickly heading to where a sturdy ladder was leaning against the wall. You set it up under the spot where the banner needed to go and felt a surge of confidence as you grabbed the banner in one hand and some tape in the other.

Climbing the ladder, each step brought you closer to the colorful paper reaching up to the ceiling. But as you neared the top, your foot slipped a little on the rung. In that quick moment, everything seemed to slow down. “Oh no—” you gasped, trying hard to steady yourself. Before you knew it, you slipped down the ladder and landed with a thud on the polished gym floor. The loud noise echoed in the sudden silence that followed.

Laughter erupted around you, filling the air with amusement. At the center of it all was Sana , the cheerleading captain and your former bestfriend. Her laughter rang out, almost mocking, as she stood with her friends, arms crossed and a smug smirk on her face, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"Be careful, Y/N," she mocked, her voice thick with sarcasm. "Being busy might make you grow old faster." Her laughter felt sharp, and it stung even more when you noticed she didn’t offer to help you up.

Heat flooded your cheeks, mixing embarrassment with frustration, but you fought to keep it under control. Taking a deep breath, you stood up and brushed off your shirt, straightening your back. “Alright, everyone, let’s get back to work! We have an event to make special!” you said, putting on a genuine smile that energized the team.

The room buzzed with renewed focus as your enthusiasm spread, pulling everyone back into the excitement of preparing for the event. Sana rolled her eyes and turned away with her group, their giggles trailing behind, but you didn’t let their laughter get you down.

“Y/N, are you okay?” a familiar voice called through the noise. You turned to see Kim Namjoon, the student council secretary and the head editor of the school paper, approaching with a concerned look on his face, a notebook tucked under one arm.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied with a grin. “Just stumbled a bit, nothing to worry about.”

“Impressive,” he said, chuckling. “Not many can fall like that and still walk away with confidence.”

"You think?" you grin. "Add it to the school paper column. Speaking of which, I need your help editing later." Namjoon smiles, his warmth reassuring.

While being the heaď of the student council was a big responsibility, you believed that your writing skills were really what helped you lead. Every meeting, every plan for events, and every motivational speech was shaped by your years of writing experience. It wasn’t just a hobby; it was a vital tool that helped define your leadership style.

As the day went on, you guided the team with determination, turning your fall into a funny story rather than a moment of embarrassment. With the gym transforming into a lively celebration of school spirit, you felt a swell of pride in both the team and yourself for staying true to what really mattered.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

The following day was the big foundation day event, and it turned out to be a tremendous success. As the sun set, you breathed a sigh of relief, feeling proud of how everything had gone. You had led your team to pull off one of the year's most important events, and now you could finally focus on your studies again, catch up on assignments, and enjoy some much-needed relaxation.

But then, things took an unexpected turn.

That evening, the school's football team had a crucial game against a rival school, which brought a huge crowd to the stadium. At first, you had no plans to go; you were determined to finish your essays and study for your upcoming exams. Just as you were about to dive into your books, you received a call from Namjoon.

“Hey Y/N, I know this is really last minute, but can you come by the office?” he asked, sounding urgent.

Curious and a bit worried, you made your way to the editorial office. Being part of the school publication was something you loved, but tonight, you hoped it wouldn’t mean too much extra work.

When you arrived, Namjoon greeted you with a stressed look. “Y/N, I really need your help. You're one of our best writers, and we’re in a tight spot.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s happened?”

“Yunjin, who was supposed to write about tonight’s football game, is sick and can’t make it,” Namjoon explained, urgency in his voice. “We need someone to fill in and write the article for tomorrow’s paper. I know it’s short notice, but you’re our best option. Can you take it on?”

You paused, thinking about all the homework and studying waiting for you at home. “Namjoon, I’m not sure I can do this. Writing sports articles isn’t really my thing.”

Namjoon shot you a reassuring smile. “You just have to write down what happens during the game and maybe ask a few of our players about it afterward. You’re a fantastic writer, Y/N. I know you can handle this.”

Feeling torn, you considered the school, the players who had worked so hard for this moment, and how important it was to share their story with everyone.

“Okay, Joon,” you said with newfound determination. “I’ll do it.”

Namjoon visibly relaxed and handed you a notebook and a press pass. “You’re a lifesaver, Y/N. I know you’ve already put in a lot of effort for the school. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You smirked and raised an eyebrow. “You better. I’m counting on you for lunch for a week.”

Namjoon laughed. “Deal. Now go make it a great article. Good luck!”

With that, you headed towards the stadium, notebook in hand, ready to take on another challenge.

Later, under the bright lights of the stadium, you were caught up in the exciting atmosphere of the game. The crowd's cheers surrounded you as you walked along the sidelines, your press pass hanging around your neck. The lights created dramatic shadows over the players as they warmed up, and you could feel their energy in the air. You stopped for a moment, heart racing, to write down your initial thoughts about the buzz surrounding the upcoming match and the rival team's arrival.

Then, you saw him.

The golden boy everyone had been talking about. He was someone you had known since you were kids—the one who always made it difficult for you to hold his gaze for long. Memories flooded back of sunny afternoons spent playing in your backyards, the shy smiles exchanged during those brief encounters, and that unmistakable flutter in your stomach whenever he was near.

He stood in the middle of the field, naturally drawing everyone's attention, with his dark hair damp from practicing, strands sticking to his forehead. His jersey fit him perfectly, showcasing his athletic build. You could see the fire in his eyes from where you stood—a mix of determination and passion that made him even more captivating.

When the game ended with an exciting win for your school, the stadium roared with cheers. A wave of pride swelled inside you—not just for the team's victory but for the chance to capture this moment through your writing.

As you lingered on the sidelines, you felt torn about whether to approach him. You had enough material for your article, but a small voice inside you urged that this opportunity was too special to miss. Just as you were about to decide, a familiar voice broke into your thoughts.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You turned sharply, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest. There he was, striding towards you with that effortless confidence you both admired and envied. His jersey clung to him, damp with sweat, his hair tousled, and that bunny-like smile brighter than the stadium lights surrounding you.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you replied, trying to sound calm even though you felt anything but. “Congratulations on your win!”

“Thanks,” he said, tilting his head with a curious look, making you feel both exposed and energized. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Did you enjoy the game?”

“Of course! For the article tomorrow,” you replied, clutching your notebook like a lifeline. “You know, school paper stuff.”

“How did you find the game?” he asked, his tone light yet genuinely curious as if he wanted your opinion.

“That’s cool. I mean, you’re cool. I mean—you’re great,” you blurted, the words tumbling before you could stop them. Your thoughts were a tangled mess, and the soft chuckle that escaped his lips didn’t make it any easier to compose yourself.

“Thanks,” Jungkook replied, tilting his head slightly as he studied you.

Trying to regain your composure, you cleared your throat. “Could I ask you a few questions about the game?”

“Sure,” he replied effortlessly.

You began asking him the standard post-game questions, scribbling down his answers. But as he spoke, your focus wavered. His voice was smooth and warm, carrying an understated excitement that made you lose track of your notes. You couldn’t help but notice how his eyes sparkled when he talked about the team’s victory, how the corner of his lips curled into a smile that made your heart skip a beat. Your attention drifted, and your writing soon became a mess of half-written sentences.

“Hey, babe,” a voice interrupted, snapping you out of your daze.

You looked up to see Sana, the head cheerleader—of course she would be here—striding over with her usual charm. Her cheer uniform fit her perfectly, highlighting her athletic build. In that moment, the butterflies in your stomach shifted to a sinking feeling.

“Oh, hey, Sana,” Jungkook greeted her, and you noticed a change in his tone.

“Great game! You were amazing out there,” Sana said before throwing her arms around him in a sudden hug. Jungkook’s body stiffened briefly, and his expression showed mild discomfort as he pulled away.

When she finally let go, Sana’s gaze shifted to you, her smile on a sharper edge. “What’s this?” she asked, nodding toward your notebook.

“It’s for the school paper,” you replied, keeping your tone neutral.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t into sports writing, Y/N.”

Her words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you debated whether it was worth responding. You were exhausted from the long day, and the last thing you wanted was to engage in her petty comments. But something about her smug tone lit a fire in you.

“And the last time I checked,” you shot back, your eyes lockig onto hers with a glare, “was a year ago. So, you don’t know much about what I’m doing now, Sana.”

The tension in the air thickened, but before you could say more, Jungkook stepped in, his voice calm yet firm. “Hey, what’s going on?”

You forced a polite smile, snapping your notebook shut. “Thanks, Jungkook,” you said abruptly, needing an escape. “I’ll, uh, I’ll go now.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he replied softly, his eyes lingering on you. “See you around.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel a sting. Jungkook and Sana had been linked ever since she became the cheerleading captain, though rumors swirled that they weren’t officially a couple. You tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter, but deep down, it did—just a little. This wasn’t just anyone; it was your former best friend and the boy who had unknowingly captured your heart for years.

Later that night, you sat at your desk, struggling to finish an article you had started. The soft light from Jungkook’s room peeked through your curtains, reminding you of how near yet far he felt. His smile and the sound of his voice echoed in your mind. As you lay there, sleep refused to come, and you found yourself thinking about what could have happened if you had ever had the courage to tell him your true feelings.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

After weeks passed and final exams wrapped up, you threw yourself into your studies. It wasn’t just about making your parents proud or keeping your position as a student leader; it was about getting a scholarship to the university of your dreams, something you had worked toward for years. After weeks of sleepless nights and exhausting tests, your final stretch as a high school senior came to a close.

That afternoon, completely worn out, you headed straight to your room and collapsed onto your bed. When you woke up three hours later, it was dark outside, and your mom called you for dinner. Rubbing your eyes, you stretched and turned toward your window. That’s when you saw that your curtain was slightly open, revealing Jungkook’s room across the way.

He was there, his face faintly lit by a desk lamp, talking animatedly on the phone. Even from a distance, you could see the tension in his posture—his brows were knitted together, his jaw tense, and his hand was tugging at his hair in frustration. Concern rose in your chest. Without thinking, you grabbed a notepad and marker from your desk and quickly jotted down a message.

"Are you okay?"

You held it up to the window, feeling anxious as you waited. It took him a moment to notice you, but when he did, his expression softened a bit. He sighed and wrote back:

"Tired of drama."

Unsure of how to reply, you eventually wrote:

"Sorry."

He looked at your note, and a faint, tired smile flickered across his face. He shook his head gently, as if to say it wasn’t your fault. The simple exchange left a strange heaviness in your chest despite the silence between you. You wondered what troubles he was facing, and for a brief moment, you wished you could reach out and help him.

Jungkook then waved at you, a small gesture that felt like a goodnight. You waved back, signaling for him to get some rest. He smiled again, this time it felt more genuine, before closing his curtain. The room immediately fell silent, but thoughts of him lingered long after he disappeared from view.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

On a laid-back Sunday afternoon, you decided to take a break from your busy life by diving into a book that had caught your interest. You found a quiet spot on a bench in the park, where the calm surroundings helped soothe your busy mind.

Out of the blue, you were startled by a loud bark. Looking up, you saw a tiny, fluffy Pomeranian running towards you. Its shiny black and brown fur sparkled in the sunlight, and its bright eyes shone with playful energy. A smile spread across your face as the little dog, looking like a cuddly stuffed animal, stopped barking and approached you cautiously.

“Hey there, little buddy,” you said softly, reaching out your hand. The dog sniffed your fingers for a moment and then nuzzled against you, clearly enjoying the attention. Feeling a rush of affection for dogs, you scratched behind its ears and laughed as it playfully licked your hand.

Just then, a voice called out from a distance, “Yeontan!” You looked up to see Jungkook jogging toward you, looking a bit rushed.

“There you are,” he said, picking up the dog and holding it in his arms. “I’m sorry if he bothered you.”

“Oh, not at all,” you replied with a smile, still petting Yeontan. “He’s so cute!”

Jungkook chuckled and scratched Yeontan behind the ear. “He’s not actually mine, though. Taehyung asked me to look after him for a while. He can be quite a handful sometimes.”

“I don’t mind at all,” you said, charmed by the little fluffball. “I love dogs. He’s just too adorable!”

“Right?” Jungkook grinned. “He can be a bit of a troublemaker, though. So, what are you doing here? Just reading?”

“Something like that,” you shrugged. “I needed a break to clear my mind. It helps.”

“That's good to hear. You deserve some time off,” Jungkook replied, his tone growing softer. “So, what’s your plan after graduation? Are you staying here for college?”

You paused, closing your book as you considered your response. “Honestly, I’m not sure. My mom and I haven’t talked much about it, but I’m applying to a few schools that are far away. What about you?”

Jungkook sighed, absentmindedly petting Yeontan. “My dad wants me to stay here and take business classes while focusing on football. He has this whole plan for me to take over his business.”

“Is that what you want?” you asked, tilting your head to study his expression.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, frustration creeping into his voice. “I don’t want to let him down, but…”

“But what?” you prompted.

“I really loved photography and film,” he said quietly. “I told my dad I wanted to study film, but he wasn’t too excited. He thinks football is my best chance at making it to the national team, and that everything else is just a hobby.”

You frowned, feeling a twinge of sympathy for him. “That sounds rough, Jungkook. It’s great that your dad believes in you, but it’s your life. You should do what makes you happy.”

“That’s what your dad always said, right?” Jungkook remarked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I miss Uncle Seojun. He always encouraged me and was so excited about my photography projects.”

“He really was,” you replied, smiling at the memory of your father. “I remember how thrilled you were when you got that camera for your birthday. You couldn’t stop talking about it!”

He laughed softly, nostalgic. “Yeah, those were good times.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened as he looked at you, momentarily distracted by a stray hair that had fallen over your face. Without thinking, he reached out and gently tucked it behind your ear. The unexpected touch made your heart skip a beat.

“There,” he said softly, almost whispering as if the moment needed a certain quiet. “Now I can see you properly.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you scrambled to find words, but your mind went blank. His hand lingered for a brief moment before he pulled away, and the faint smile he gave you sent your heart racing.

In that moment, everything else faded away—the sounds of the park and even Yeontan’s soft breathing seemed to disappear. You wondered if he could hear how loudly your heart was beating.

You both sat there quietly for a while, with Yeontan curled up between you. It felt like a snapshot of the past, a brief reminder of simpler times before life got more complicated.

But before long, the moment was disrupted. A red car pulled up nearby, and you recognized the girl stepping out—Sana. Of course, it had to be her. With her stylish cap and polished look, she approached like she owned the place.

“Hey, Jungkook! What’s taking you so long to grab Yeontan?” she called out, shattering the peaceful moment you had shared with Jungkook.

Jungkook stood up, brushing off his jeans as if to shake off the experience you’d just had. “I’ve got to go now,” he said, a hint of regret in his voice. “It was really nice talking to you again.”

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual despite the whirlwind of feelings inside you. “Time to go now, buddy,” you said softly to Yeontan, giving the little dog one last affectionate pat.

Jungkook sank back onto the bench, his smile brightening the moment as he gently took Yeontan’s paw and waved it toward you. “Bye, Yeontan,” you said, unable to suppress the flicker of a smile that danced on your lips despite the weight in your chest.

When Jungkook got on the passenger seat, Sana suddenly whispered to Jungkook, making them like they are kissing on your view, which made Jungkook laugh. You quickly dropped your gaze back to your book, pretending not to notice, acting as if it didn’t bother you. But it did. It always did.

The car pulled away, taking them with it, leaving you alone once again with only your book and the lingering ache in your chest.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

The office was filled with a low hum of activity, with the sounds of papers being shuffled and keyboards tapping away. You were sitting at your usual desk, surrounded by notes, layout plans, and playlists for the upcoming graduation celebration. It was your last year of school, and as the leader of the organizing committee, you were determined to make the event truly special.

“Hey, Y/N, have you had lunch yet?” a familiar voice cut through your concentration.

Looking up, you saw Namjoon standing there with a warm smile, holding a neatly packed lunchbox.

“I’ll eat later. I was thinking of heading to the cafeteria,” you replied, forcing a tired smile.

“No need for that,” he said, placing the box down in front of you. “I brought you lunch. You’ve been working yourself to the bone lately.”

“Thanks, that really means a lot,” you said, genuinely appreciative.

“Not a problem. You deserve it,” he replied, pulling up a chair to sit next to you. “By the way, have you heard anything about your application to your dream school?”

You leaned back in your chair with a sigh. “No news yet. I’m just waiting and hoping for that scholarship. It all depends on this.”

Namjoon nodded, his expression confident. “You’ll get it. I believe in you.”

“I hope you’re right,” you said quietly, feeling the pressure weighing on you.

“It’s you, Y/N. You’ve been juggling so much—school, committee duties, everything. If anyone can handle it, it’s you,” he said earnestly, and his encouragement brought a small smile to your face.

You talked about school and Namjoon’s plans for college, enjoying the easy flow of conversation. For a moment, the stress you were feeling seemed to lift.

“So… about prom?” he asked casually, tilting his head. “Are you going? Has anyone asked you to go with them?”

You hesitated, playing with your pen. “Not yet. I’m not sure I’ll even go.”

“Why not?” he inquired.

“I’ve been so busy, and I really need to focus on studying for the scholarship. That’s what’s most important for me right now,” you explained, looking away.

Namjoon frowned a little but nodded in understanding. “I get it. But you know… you’ve worked really hard. Maybe you deserve one night to just have fun. Prom is an important event, especially for someone like you who’s given so much to this school. Just think about it, okay?”

You smiled softly, touched by his concern. “Thanks, Namjoon. I’ll think about it.”

He stood up and gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Good. Now eat your lunch. You need the energy for everything you’re handling.”

As he walked away, you looked down at the lunchbox and smiled to yourself. Namjoon always seemed to know exactly what you needed, even when you didn’t realize it yourself.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

Weeks passed, and the gentle light of your desk lamp lit up the messy spread of notes and open textbooks in front of you. You had been studying for hours, going over every possible topic for the entrance exam—a big test that could determine whether you got into your dream school. The clock struck midnight, but you were so focused that you barely noticed the time.

Even so, thoughts of prom kept sneaking into your mind. It wasn’t just that your friend Namjoon had encouraged you to go; it was the fact that prom, the highlight of your senior year, was happening on the same day as your exam. The test was in the morning, and there would be time to get ready afterward, but you wondered if it was worth the rush. Should you focus on your future or let yourself enjoy one night of celebration after all your hard work?

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a door open from the other side. You saw Jungkook walked into his room, his hair slightly damp, probably from football practice, and his gym bag hanging over his shoulder. He looked a mix of tired and effortlessly cool.

You quickly turned your attention back to your notes, trying not to seem obvious, but you could sense that he was watching you. When you glanced up again, you noticed him grab a notepad and a marker from his desk. He wrote something down and held it up to his window.

“Are you going to prom tomorrow?”

You froze for a moment, caught off guard by his direct question. Slowly, you grabbed your notepad and wrote back:

“No, studying.”

He read your response and his expression changed—was that disappointment? He sighed and quickly wrote another note, a small smile appearing on his face as he held it up:

“Wish you were"

Your heart skipped a beat. The simplicity of his words affected you more than you anticipated. You smiled back, feeling a mix of flattery and frustration. Prom had only been a distant thought until now, but Jungkook’s quiet hope made you reconsider.

You stood up and waved goodbye, signaling that you were heading downstairs for dinner. Your mom greeted you warmly and asked how your studying was going. You nodded, trying to focus on the meal in front of you, but your mind was elsewhere. Between the entrance exam, the upcoming prom, and Jungkook’s note, you felt like you were at a crossroads, unsure of which path to take.

That morning, your mom took you to the university for an important exam. The car ride felt both long and too short at the same time, with the scenery rushing by as your nerves tightened. This was the moment you had been working towards after many sleepless nights and self-imposed pressure. There was no turning back now.

“I know you’re feeling anxious, sweetheart,” your mom said gently. “But no matter what happens, I’m proud of you. And your dad? He would be so happy.”

You nodded, trying to push down the lump in your throat. Her comforting words eased your anxiety, even as your mind raced with worries about what could go wrong.

When you entered the exam hall, the quietness was almost overwhelming. Other students, just as nervous as you, bent over their papers. Once the exam started, it was just you, the questions in front of you, and your pen. You poured all your effort into each answer, determined to do your best.

As you walked out of the hall afterwards, doubt began to creep in. Did I do enough? you wondered. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself, “I’ve done my best. Now it’s in the hands of fate.”

Back home after lunch, you tried to distract yourself from the exam, but the thoughts kept returning. It wasn’t until exactly 1:00 PM, hours later, that your phone buzzed with a notification. An email awaited you.

Your heart raced as you opened it, and the words “Admission Results” jumped out at you. As you read through the letter, one word stood out: Congratulations.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, and then exclaimed more loudly, “I passed!”

Your mom rushed in, startled by your shout. When she saw the email on your screen, her face lit up with joy. You both started jumping around the room, laughing and crying together.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, wrapping you in a warm hug. “Your dad would be so proud too. I just know it.”

Later, in your room, you began to imagine the life ahead of you at your dream school. New friends, exciting opportunities, and a fresh place to learn and grow. The possibilities felt endless, and for the first time in a long while, you felt truly excited about the future.

Your daydream was interrupted by a loud knock on your door. Startled, you turned to see someone you didn’t expect: Sana.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

She stood in the doorway, exuding her usual confidence, but her face was hard to read. "We need to talk," she said, crossing her arms.

The happiness from your recent achievement quickly faded as you wondered what she wanted. You stood frozen at your door, staring at Sana, completely shocked by her unexpected visit. It felt like ages since she’d last been in your house, let alone your room.

“What are you doing here?” you finally managed to ask, still trying to process her sudden appearance.

Instead of giving a straight answer, she crossed her arms and shot you an intense glare, her voice trembling with emotion. “How could you just leave me in this town? I thought we were going to college together!”

Her outburst hit you hard. “People change, Sana. Plans change. Everything changes,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady even as your heart raced.

“You didn’t even tell me?” she said, her eyes shimmering with tears that threatened to overflow.

You let out a heavy breath, feeling the weight of this tense moment. “How was I supposed to? We weren't really on good terms.”

Without another word, she walked past you, frustration clear in her body language, and sat down on the edge of your bed. “So what? Just because we weren’t talking doesn’t mean you could just vanish on me. Even if we were both acting foolish, you could’ve at least figured out a way to let me know.”

You followed her, feeling unsure whether to comfort her or give her some space. “How did you even find out I was going to another school? I’m not even sure I could pass the entrance exam.”

Sana wiped her eyes, and her frustration melted into vulnerability. “I overheard your mom mentioning it…and Jungkook told me too. And you think so little of yourself. Do you hate me that much?”

Her words cut deep. “I don’t hate you, Sana,” you replied softly, feeling your heart ache with her pain. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, Y/N,” she responded, her voice shaking. “I know I haven't treated you well this year. I—” Her voice broke as she buried her face in her hands, regret washing over her like a tidal wave.

You paused for a moment but then sat down next to her. “I was going to send you a letter,” you admitted. “To explain everything before graduation.”

“A letter?” she repeated, her eyes widening with curiosity. “Let me see it!”

With a heavy heart, you opened your cabinet and took out a box filled with letters you had written to people who had meant a lot to you. With shaky hands, you handed one to her.

As she started to read the letter, you noticed her expression change. Tears filled her eyes as she processed the words you had written from deep within your heart. “Y/N, I had no idea you felt this way. I’m so sorry for making you feel alone. If I could go back in time... I would give up cheerleading if it meant keeping you in my life.”

“Please don’t say that,” you replied quickly, your voice filled with urgency. “Cheerleading was your dream. I regret not being more supportive. I should have been there for you.”

Sana shook her head, a realization dawning upon her. “And I should have been there for you, too. I had no idea what you were going through with your dad’s illness. I thought you were pushing me away, but really, I just wasn’t paying attention.”

The two of you sat together, unpacking the hurt and misunderstandings that had built up over the past year. You shared how your father's health struggles had taken over your life, creating a distance you didn’t know how to overcome. Sana opened up about feeling lost when you stopped responding to her messages, believing you no longer cared about her.

“Remember that time we were supposed to hang out? I saw you hugging Jungkook, and I… I thought maybe you didn’t need me anymore,” you reminded her, the memory still vivid.

Sana’s eyes widened in surprise. “Jungkook? Oh my God, Y/N, he was just comforting me! I was upset about my parents fighting, that’s all!”

As the ridiculousness of it all hit both of you, laughter erupted, slowly easing the tension that had lingered for so long.

“And then,” you added, “I got a call from the hospital. My dad was in surgery, and I couldn’t stay.”

Sana’s expression softened, guilt showing on her face. “I thought you ditched me. I waited for you until I couldn’t anymore.”

When you finally returned home after your dad’s funeral, you had wanted to explain everything, but seeing Sana laughing with her new cheerleading friends had hurt you deeply. “I thought you’d moved on,” you admitted, trying to hold back the pain you still felt.

Sana groaned and covered her face, genuine sorrow washing over her. “We were so foolish.”

You nodded, a smile starting to emerge despite everything. “Yeah, we were.”

As the laughter faded, the weight of the past year began to lift, replaced by a sense of ease that had been absent for so long. Hours passed as you both reminisced, catching up on everything you had missed in each other’s lives. When you looked at the clock, you were surprised to see it was already 4 PM.

“Wow,” Sana said, leaning back with a playful sigh. “We just spent hours untangling a whole year’s worth of misunderstandings. Classic us.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling lighter than you had in a long time. “Classic us! So, what’s next? How are things going with you and Jungkook?”

Sana's face shifted to one of mock shock. “Me and Jungkook? Oh, no! I think you mean me and his best friend.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, Kim Taehyung? Jungkook’s best friend?”

A sheepish smile appeared on Sana’s face. “Yep! Don't act so surprised. I was always around Jungkook because Taehyung and I... well, there’s definitely more happening there than with Jungkook.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Really? This whole time I thought—”

“Thought what? That Jungkook and I were secretly in love?” Sana laughed dramatically. “Ew, no! He’s like a brother to me. Gross.”

You felt a wave of relief, though a hint of irritation bubbled up too. “Well, how was I supposed to know? You two always hung out, and there was that time you called him ‘babe’ during the football game!”

Sana grinned mischievously. “Oh, that? Totally just messing with you. I wanted to see if you get jealous.”

“Jealous?” you repeated, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. It’s obvious. I have known you since we were little, and you have liked Jungkook since middle school, right?”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “You’re the worst.”

“And you’re just in denial about it. It’s painful to watch,” she teased.

Before you could respond, Sana leaned in closer and said, “But honestly, your face every time I was with him? Not subtle at all.”

“Well, excuse me for being human,” you muttered, glaring at her.

Sana just smirked. “Anyway, there’s nothing between me and Jungkook, but there’s definitely something between him and you.”

Your heart raced at her words, but you quickly shook your head. “You’re imagining things.”

Sana rolled her eyes. “Right. I’m the one imagining this. Not the girl who’s been crushing on Jungkook for years.”

“Can we talk about something else, please?” you begged.

“Nope! You can’t get out of this. People always thought we were a couple, but it’s silly because there’s nothing there. The only person I’m into is Taehyung.”

You blinked, trying to grasp all the new information. “So... you and Taehyung?”

“Yep!” she said, grinning. “Don’t worry; I’ll make sure Jungkook knows you’re interested. Not that he doesn’t already.”

“Sana!” you shouted, throwing a pillow at her.

You both burst into laughter, the earlier tension completely gone. For the first time in ages, things felt normal between you and Sana, just like they used to be.

Suddenly, Sana spoke up enthusiastically, crossing her arms like it was settled. “You need to go to this prom!”

You sighed, leaning back against your bed. “No way. I’m not ready for this. I don’t have a dress, I didn’t make plans, and prom starts at 6 PM. Do you even know what time it is?”

Sana rolled her eyes dramatically. “Seriously, Y/N? You know they never start right at 6.”

That made you laugh. “Okay, true.”

“But I still don’t have a dress!” you protested, looking down at your jeans and oversized hoodie. “Even if I did, it's too late to get ready now.”

Sana grinned mischievously and dashed out the door. “Don’t worry! We’re the same size, remember? I’ll grab a dress from my place and be back in no time. Bye!”

Before you could argue, she was gone, leaving you surprised and somewhat amused.

As you leaned back, you reflected on how just hours ago, you wouldn’t have imagined reconnecting with Sana and laughing like old times. Life can be full of surprises.

Moments later, Sana burst through your door, a garment bag draped over her arm, grinning widely. You perked up, but then noticed what she held—a white sparkly long gown.

“Wait a second,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Where’s the other dress? I thought we were going together!”

Sana winced, her smile faltering. “About that... I actually have plans tonight. With Taehyung.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re skipping prom for a guy?”

She raised her hands in mock defense, laughing. “I’m sorry! I can’t help it; I’m just a flawed human!”

You couldn’t help but laugh along, shaking your head at her antics. “Fine, but you owe me—big time.”

Sana smirked and shoved the garment bag into your arms. “Deal! Now go take a shower. We have a lot to do to make you look stunning.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the bag and headed for the bathroom. “You better not do anything weird while I’m gone.”

“Me? Weird? Never!” Sana feigned innocence.

But as soon as you closed the bathroom door, you could hear her giggling outside.

Curiosity got the better of her. Her eyes landed on a small stack of letters sitting on your desk, and one in particular caught her attention. It had Jungkook’s name written on the envelope.

She hesitated for a moment, then grabbed it. “Curiosity kills the cat, but satisfaction brings it back,” she muttered as she opened the letter.

As she read, a sly smile spread across her face. “Oh, this is perfect.” With a sparkle of mischief in her eyes, she tucked the letter into her bag, already planning how to make her night—and yours—unforgettable.

When you returned from your shower, wrapped in a towel and ready to get started, Sana was all business. “Alright, sit down. Let’s work some magic.”

The next hour was a flurry of hairspray, brushes, and accessories as Sana worked diligently, turning you into someone who looked ready for a fairytale. By the time she was done, you hardly recognized yourself in the mirror.

“Oh my god,” Sana exclaimed, stepping back to admire her work. “You’re gorgeous! I’m so proud to call you my friend.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling your cheeks warm. “Stop it, Sana. You’re just flattering me.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. You look amazing.”

Before you could respond, there was a knock at the door. Your mom peeked in, her eyes going wide in surprise.

“Wow,” she said, placing a hand on her chest. “You’re... stunning, my darling.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you replied, trying to hide your blush.

“I thought you weren’t going,” she added, tilting her head in confusion.

“Change of plans,” you said casually.

Your mom turned to Sana. “What about you? Aren’t you going out?”

Sana grinned, ready with her excuse. “I have something important to do tonight.”

You smirked, catching onto the little fib. “Yeah, important,” you teased quietly, getting a playful shove from Sana in return.

As your mom stepped out, Sana handed you your sandals, the final touch, and gave you an encouraging smile. “Alright, Cinderella, it’s time for the ball. It’s almost 7 PM!”

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

Jungkook tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited at a red light. The lights from the cars in front of him blurred as his thoughts drifted back to a note he had received from you the night before. It simply said, “No, studying.” It was straightforward and so very “you.” You were focused on your future and not swayed by a high school dance. That dedication was just one of the many things he admired about you—your ability to stay on track and ignore distractions.

But part of him selfishly wished you would go to the dance. It wasn’t about the glitz and glamour; he just wanted to see you there, enjoying yourself for once. You had worked so hard all year, and no one deserved a moment of fun more than you. And if he was honest, he simply wanted to see you smile.

He laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head at his own thoughts. What was he imagining? He wasn’t your boyfriend or anything like that. He was just your neighbor, your friend—the guy who chatted with you casually and often caught glimpses of you through your room window when your light turned on.

A car behind him honked, snapping him back to reality. The light had changed to green. He pressed the gas and moved forward, only to hear his phone buzz in the passenger seat. He took a quick look at the screen during the next stop—texts from Sana.

Sana: Sorry, I’m gonna ditch you tonight. Sorry not sorry.

Sana: But I’ve got something to give you right now. Please meet me. Thanks.

Jungkook sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and disappointment. He wasn’t surprised that Sana had backed out. It was typical of her behavior, probably running off for some adventure with Taehyung. He didn’t really care; he didn’t have high hopes for the night anyway. The excitement of prom had faded the moment you decided not to attend.

Still, the weight of his disappointment settled deeper in his heart. For a brief moment, he had imagined that tonight could be special—his chance to finally tell you how he felt. It was his last year of high school, and if he didn’t speak up now, he might never get the chance.

With a sigh, Jungkook turned his car toward Sana’s house. His thoughts raced, torn between the reality of you not being there and the small, foolish hope that maybe—just maybe—you might change your mind and show up. Although, he thought bitterly, what were the chances you felt the same way about him?

Yet, there was a little voice in the back of his mind encouraging him to take the risk. To go for it, even if it meant putting everything on the line. Because if not tonight, then when would he ever find the courage to say anything?

It all started when you moved into the neighborhood. Jungkook had heard some talk at school about a new student joining their class, but honestly, he didn’t care much about gossip. That changed one afternoon when Jungkook found himself in a bad mood after spilling his favorite treat—banana milk. As he grumbled about how his day couldn’t get any worse, you appeared, handing him a fresh carton with a simple, “Here.”

At that moment, Jungkook thought you might be an angel. He didn’t know you well yet, but your quiet kindness left a mark on him. It wasn’t something big or flashy, just a small gesture of support that meant a lot. From then on, you became friends—not best friends like you were with Sana, but close enough for him to pick up on little things about you, like how much you loved reading, how your face lit up when you talked about your favorite subjects, and how determined you were in everything you did.

You were one of the few who encouraged him to take photos, aside from his dad. When Jungkook got a camera for his birthday, he was excited that you agreed to model for him. Over time, you became one of his favorite people to photograph. There was something special about the way you carried yourself—elegant yet strong—that made every picture meaningful.

As time went on, Jungkook noticed a change in you. He would see you walking home from school, looking down and seeming to shut the world out. It wasn’t until later that he found out the truth: your father had passed away after being ill for a long time. Jungkook wanted to reach out, but you had withdrawn from school and social life. He understood that you needed time alone to grieve. Still, he couldn’t shake the concern he felt. Things had changed between you and Sana too; you weren’t talking as much anymore, and Jungkook wondered what had shifted.

He thought about asking Sana about it, but hesitated. It didn’t feel right since she had her own things going on. For a while, Jungkook even thought Sana was interested in him because she was always around, laughing and chatting. But soon he realized her attention was focused on his best friend, Taehyung. Ever since he introduced them, Sana had been trying to get Taehyung’s attention, and Jungkook ended up as her unintentional sidekick.

That sometimes frustrated him, especially when Sana interrupted moments he wanted to share with you. Like that one day you were sitting together on a bench while he was walking Taehyung’s dog, Yeontan, who had a lot of energy. Suddenly, Yeontan broke free and darted away, and Jungkook had rushed to catch him, unexpectedly running right into you. At that moment, it felt like fate.

When senior year began, you returned as a new person—stronger and more confident, with a spark in your eyes that caught everyone’s attention. As the newly elected student leader, you tackled every challenge with determination. Jungkook watched in awe. How could someone who had faced so much come back even brighter? When he found out you were watching the school’s big football game, he played like it was the most important game of his life. Every move was made with the thought of impressing you. When the team won, he secretly hoped that you had noticed him.

But it wasn’t just your accomplishments that captivated him. It was the way you hummed while studying, the light in your eyes when discussing your future, and your unwavering determination. The more time Jungkook spent with you, the deeper his feelings grew.

It wasn’t just a crush anymore. It felt complicated and overwhelming, and he couldn’t ignore it. But along with those feelings came frustration. Jungkook often felt unworthy of you. You were amazing in every way, while he thought of himself as just Jungkook. Even when he tried to pull away from his feelings, they would rush back, like waves that wouldn’t stop.

Jungkook arrived at Sana’s house, where she greeted him with a big smile. She held up an envelope, waving it around excitedly.

“Here,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Make sure you read this at the prom. Or else.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Or else what?”

Sana leaned in, lowering her voice for dramatic effect. “Or else I’ll share that karaoke video of you singing ‘Baby Shark’ at the top of your lungs last summer.”

Jungkook groaned, grabbing the envelope from her. “Seriously? That was for my little cousin’s party!”

“Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that,” she teased, barely holding back her laughter. “Now go! And don’t mess this up.”

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

After your mom insisted on giving you a ride and your friend Sana decided not to come with you for some unclear reason, you figured a late arrival would be alright. As you walked into the venue, the lively music greeted you, and then you spotted Namjoon, who had a huge, welcoming smile on his face.

“Oh, wow, you actually made it!” he exclaimed, practically lifting you off the ground with his excitement.

“Someone talked me into it,” you replied, thinking about Sana’s enthusiastic pep talk earlier.

“Whoever that is, I owe them one! By the way, how did your entrance exam go?”

You smiled. “I passed!”

His face lit up even more. “Oh my god, I knew you would! I’m so proud of you!”

“Should we celebrate?”

And celebrate you did. The night turned into a blur of music, dancing, and laughter. Namjoon had a knack for making everything feel light and fun. For the first time in what felt like ages, you felt like yourself again—free from stress and the heaviness of the past year.

But even while dancing and singing along to the songs, you couldn’t help but wonder about Jungkook. You remembered Sana saying he was supposed to be here—and even more confusing, that he was going to be her partner. The thought of him with her nagged at you, even though she had assured you there was nothing romantic going on.

Why are you even thinking about him? you thought, scolding yourself. Just because Sana said everything is fine doesn’t mean he feels the same way about you. Your thoughts were interrupted when Namjoon handed you a drink and pulled you back into the moment. “Come on, no sad thoughts tonight!” he said, grinning widely.

You laughed and accepted the drink, allowing yourself to be swept up in the music and the joy of the evening. Whatever happened later, you decided, could wait until tomorrow. For now, you were going to dance the night away.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was sitting away from the dance floor with his football teammates, lazily holding a drink. He wasn’t really paying attention to what they were saying until Jimin leaned over with a cheeky grin.

“Hey, I just saw Y/N on the dance floor,” Jimin said casually, almost like he didn’t just drop a huge surprise.

Jungkook sat up straight, surprised. “You’re not kidding, right?”

“Nope,” Jimin replied, dragging out the word for more suspense. “But... she’s with Namjoon.”

The smile that had started to form on Jungkook’s face vanished. Of course you were with Namjoon. He felt a familiar wave of jealousy wash over him, even though he knew it was silly—there was nothing romantic between you two, right? Still, he couldn’t help his mind from racing.

As he glanced down at the dance floor, he spotted you right away. You were laughing, your face bright in the colorful lights as you danced with carefree joy. Despite the sting in his chest, Jungkook couldn’t help but smile. You looked so happy, and that mattered to him.

“She looks amazing,” he thought, feeling a bit of a ache in his heart.

Jimin leaned closer, grinning playfully. “You’re so down bad, man. When are you going to tell her? Keeping it inside for years is painful to watch.”

“Shut up, Jimin,” Jungkook muttered, grabbing the drink from Jimin’s hand and standing up quickly.

As he walked away, something slipped from his pocket and fell to the floor.

“Uh, Jungkook? You dropped something,” Jimin called out, picking it up.

Jungkook turned around, snatching the envelope before Jimin could look closer and shoved it back into his pocket.

He made his way to the restroom, his thoughts racing. After closing the door behind him, he leaned against the sink and pulled out the envelope again.

He had completely forgotten about it in the excitement of the night. Slowly, he opened it, curiosity bubbling inside him. As he read the first few lines, his breath caught in his throat.

You excused yourself, telling Namjoon that you needed a break and wanted to find the comfort room. He nodded and kindly pointed you in the right direction. As you walked away from the crowd, the noise of the venue faded slightly, and you welcomed the moment of solitude.

But before you could push the door open, you stopped in your tracks. Jungkook was standing there, looking like he’d just seen a ghost. His eyes widened as they met yours. You gave him a small wave, unsure of what to make of his expression, but before you could say anything, he grabbed your wrist and gently pulled you outside.

“Jungkook, wait! What’s going on?” you protested, but he didn’t stop until you were far away from the venue, out of sight and earshot of the crowd.

Finally, you tugged your arm free, your breath slightly uneven. “What’s going on? Why did you bring me here?”

He looked at you, his jaw tightening like he was wrestling with something he couldn’t hold back any longer. Then he blurted out, “Do you still like me?”

You froze. “Pardon?”

“Do you have feelings for me?” His voice was more urgent this time, his eyes searching yours.

“What—Jungkook, I’m confused! What’s happening?” you stammered, until your gaze dropped to his hand. He was holding something—a letter. A very familiar letter. Your heart sank. No, this can’t be happening, you thought.

“Where did you get that?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. It was the letter. The one you wrote when you thought you had no chance with him. The one you hesitated to give because it felt too vulnerable, too raw. And now, he was holding it.

Dear Jungkook,

There’s so much I’ve been meaning to say, but I never quite found the right moment—or maybe I just didn’t have the courage. You’ve been such an important part of my life, and honestly, I can’t imagine it without you.

We’ve known each other for so long, and I still remember the little things—like the time when we were kids, and you cried because your favorite drink spilled. I gave you mine, and you smiled like the world was okay again. It might sound silly, but that moment has stayed with me.

As time has passed, I’ve come to realize that my feelings for you have deepened in ways I didn’t expect. Maybe it was during those awkward moments in middle school when you were there to help me out without making things weird. Your kindness in those moments really meant the world to me and made me like you even more.

I want to assure you that I’m not writing this to complicate our friendship because that means the world to me. I just felt it was time to be honest, especially with all the buzz around you and Sana. Regardless of what’s happening between you two, your happiness is what truly matters to me. She’s great, and you deserve nothing but the best.

Most of all, I want to thank you. Thank you for being my friend, for capturing memories through your photos when I didn’t know how to see myself, and for being there when I needed someone, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. Thank you for being a part of my dad’s life as well—I know he would be proud of the person you’re becoming.

I’m sorry for the times when I pushed you away or made it hard to talk. I know you wanted to connect, and I regret not opening up sooner. You know I’ve had my struggles, but I hope we can still be just like before.

No matter what happens, I hope you always choose what makes you happiest. You deserve that, Jungkook. I hope I’ll get to see you thriving, chasing your dreams, and smiling that smile that makes everything feel okay.

See you around.

Love,

Y/N

You should’ve known better. She always had a knack for getting involved in things she shouldn't, and this time was no different.

“Answer me,” Jungkook urged again, his voice softer now but still serious.

You took a deep breath, your heart racing. “Yes, Jungkook. I did have feelings for you,” you confessed, your voice shaking. “And... I still do.”

Before you could say anything else, Jungkook stepped closer, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was gentle yet charged, filled with all the feelings he hadn’t found the words for. It felt like time stopped, the noise of everyone else fading away until there was just the two of you.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he smiled—a real, open smile that lit up his face. “I like you too, Y/N. I’ve liked you for so long. I just… didn’t know how to tell you.”

Your breath caught, not in surprise this time, but in the overwhelming realization that maybe, just maybe, this was the moment you had been waiting for.

He kissed you again, and it felt deeper and more passionate, your mouths moving together as if they’d always belonged that way. Jungkook pulled back slightly, both of you catching your breath while still holding onto each other, his eyes shining with joy. "I can't believe this is actually happening," he murmured.

You raised an eyebrow, still reeling from everything. "Neither can I. You dragged me out here, kissed me, and now what? Do we just head back to prom like nothing happened?"

As you stood there with Jungkook, still processing everything, a voice crackled over the speakers from inside the venue.

“Attention, everyone! The moment you’ve all been waiting for—the announcement of our prom king and queen!”

You turned to Jungkook, your hand still in his. “We should probably head back.”

Jungkook shook his head, grinning. “As if I’d win prom king. And there’s no way you'd win, unless you consideration of just how breathtaking you are tonight."

You tilted your head, smirking. “What if I do win prom queen? Don’t you want to be there for my big moment?”

You both laughed at the thought. But before you could say anything else, the emcee’s voice rang out.

“And this year’s prom king is… Mr. Jeon Jungkook!”

You both froze. You stared at him in disbelief. “No way.”

Jungkook blinked, confused. “Did they—? Are we hearing the same thing?”

The crowd inside erupted with cheers, and before Jungkook could react, the emcee continued, “And this year’s prom queen is none other than Ms. Y/N L/N!”

Your jaw dropped as you looked at Jungkook, astonished. “Okay, now I know this is a joke. Sana definitely set this up.”

Jungkook grabbed your hand and began leading you back toward the venue. “Well, come on, Your Majesty. Let’s go claim our crowns!”

As you entered the hall, all eyes turned to you, clapping and cheering. Jungkook’s friends were the loudest, practically bouncing with excitement.

You and Jungkook were brought up onto the stage, where the emcee placed crowns on your heads. Jungkook leaned down and whispered, “I guess we’re more popular than we thought.”

You snorted, trying not to laugh in front of everyone.

As the first notes of a slow song filled the air, the emcee gestured to the dance floor. “And now, the prom king and queen’s dance!”

Jungkook extended his hand to you, his grin widening. “Shall we, Your Highness?”

You rolled your eyes playfully but took his hand. “Let’s not trip over our crowns, Your Majesty.”

As you both danced under the sparkling lights, the crowd faded into the background, leaving just the two of you. This wasn’t just any dance—it was a moment that felt timeless, a memory forming in your heart.

You hadn’t even wanted to come tonight, yet here you were, wrapped in Jungkook’s warm embrace, feeling as if everything had led to this unexpected moment. Looking into his eyes, you understood—this wasn’t just the end of the night; it was the start of something even greater.

For the first time, it all made sense. Like two pieces of a puzzle that had been searching for each other, you fit together effortlessly, naturally, as if this was where you always belong to each other.

end.