#the community college messed him up big time

[fantasylandloser]

marriage pact

summary: besties that plan to get married

warnings: smut, mdni, dry humping, idrk what else I should put here so message me and lmk, steve's happy trail, slutty steve, big dick steve

pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

A/n: This started off as one thing then it manifested into something else, and this is 4k words of idk and there MIGHT be a part 2

update here is part 2

****

Steve loved your slumber parties that had carried over from your childhood. Initially the two of you would binge watch movies, while his parents were who knows where. Up until you were about twelve he slept in the bed with you until one day your parents decided that he couldn’t do that anymore and gave him his own room for when he stayed over. 

Your family was well off due to your father being in business with his and it was probably no big deal for them, but Steve appreciated it nevertheless. He felt so loved in your home, so he made it his second. He was there at least three nights a week, until the two of you got into highschool and his dad wanted him to get serious about basketball. Then it was late night practices and meeting up with girls. He still came around at least once a week for dinners, but usually he was busy. 

You were surprised when he didn’t go away for college. Even more so when he decided to get his own job and start at the community college in Hawkins instead of living off his parents. Eventually he was back to being at your house all the time, until one day your mom randomly asked him to move in, suggesting that he was there all the time anyway. Which he agreed to with speed. So, now your slumber parties were more frequent, and more fun now that you were adults and your mom took away the rule that Steve couldn’t stay in your room.

Now your slumber parties included the two of you gossiping for hours on end about who was pregnant, talking through movies, and newly you doing Steve’s skincare. At first he tried to pretend that he didn’t like it, until one day you decided you didn’t feel like it and he begged you to do it anyway.

“Close your eyes.” You say from your position on his stomach, your thighs fitting snug on each side of him. One of his hands resting on each one. You didn’t need to be sitting on him of course, but Steve claimed it would be easier on your back if he were laying down (which was not true) but you went along with it because it was Steve.

“So bossy.” He murmurs but closes his eyes nonetheless, his fingers messing with the hem of your shorts. You hum in acknowledgement not really able to focus on the task at hand. 

“Is this new?” Steve asks, referring to the cool goopy substance that you were putting on his face.

“Yeah, I’m testing it on you before I put it on my face.” You say jokingly. But not really, considering that's what you were actually doing.

The snort Steve lets out brings a smile to your face. “Well, I’ve been your test dummy since we were kids so I’m not surprised.” 

“Glad that you finally accepted the dynamic of this friendship. Now stop talking.” He huffs at the command but still listens anyway, a small smile resting on his face,that you could never ask him to wipe away. Your brain short circuits a bit when he pulls his hand back to the center of your thigh, his thumb continuously rubbing over the smooth skin. You couldn’t help but wonder when that got added to the dynamic of your friendship. 

“Now sit with that for ten minutes.” You could see him getting ready to protest so you quickly added, “and be still!” You know he’s gonna bitch about it when you go to take the mask off. He hates sitting still more than anything but he could deal for ten minutes.

When he feels the pressure from your body weight pressing into his stomach start to lighten, his hands finding your waist even with his eyes closed.

“Steve.” You huff, knowing he’s not going to let you move until he can, but it’s not like you actually put up a fight. Not like you actually wanted to be away from his warmth. So you stayed simply sitting on him for ten minutes. Watching him, thinking about how he was still so pretty even with the mask on his face.

When it was time for you to take it off. You almost didn’t want to, but you did , pleased to see that the product left him glowing. 

Steve finally opened his eyes after almost falling asleep when he heard you sigh sweetly. “All done?” He asks hoping that you weren’t even though he’d been laying there for about thirty minutes.  

“Yep.” You say until you remember the little gift you picked up for him at the store. “Wait one more thing.” Steve lets you get off him this time, a little hesitant but you don’t point it out. 

When you come back with what looked like a broken whisk, Steve was a little reluctant. “I think this is where my test dummy days end.” You roll your eyes at his dramatics sliding back to your spot on his stomach.

“You’ll like it.” You tell him. Despite the growing anticipation about whatever the device was, Steve is quick to accept you and it into his space, his hands on your hips to steady you as you sit down. 

“I doubt- fuckkk.” Steve moans raggedly, cutting himself off and surprising you, making you stop your movements with the hair massager. You catch your composure quickly though, continuing to massage his scalp.

“So dramatic.” You try to tease, to lighten the heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You knew Steve had a thing for getting his hair pulled. He hooked up with half the girls in your class, so his likes and dislikes tended to get around and made for some pretty interesting lunch room conversations.

You didn’t realize a scalp massage would elicit the same reaction. You also didn’t realize that his reaction would have an effect on you. His whole body seemed to glitch. HIs eyes are barely able to stay open and the grip on your hips tightening.

Once his initial dramatics calmed down, he began letting out soft appreciative sighs. His grip on you fades to soft circles on your thighs.

“I’m gonna marry you.” He tells you, with his eyes closed. You knew he meant it. He told you that he wanted to marry you one day in high school. He’d been drunk but he let you all the way in on his plan to make a life with you, one day when you’re both ready.

He told you how he thought about building a house for you, and having your last name be harrington and how he wanted to have a bunch of kids with you. You thought he’d been joking teasing him about it the next day, but he simply smiled at you with a blush forming on his cheeks telling you that he meant it.

Ever since then, every couple of months he’d say it again. Like he was reminding you, or really asking you to wait for him. Which you did. Neither of you had made much of a move or anything and sometimes one of you would date  someone else, but in the back of your mind you would always remember that you were marrying Steve and that’s just the way it was.

“Mhmm.” You hum, simply acknowledging like usual. To your surprise Steve's eyes open and he zeroes in on your face. 

“I’m serious.” He’d never done this before, made more room for conversation about it. He seemed like he wanted more than gentle acknowledgment.

“I know.” You say, pretending to busy yourself as you set the massager to the side, just to get away from the intense way he’s looking at you. When he sits up on the headboard you know he means business. You never guessed now would be the time you finally actually talked about it.

“Do you really?” He asks. Steve didn’t know if you knew how serious he was.

“Yeah.. we’re getting married.” You tell him, fidgeting with one of his hands in your, absently looking at his nails instead of him. “You’re gonna build me a two story house, two streets away from my moms. In that field we used to play in. And we’re gonna have six babies and I will not let you help me name any of them because I already have a list.” You catch a quick glimpse of his face. “I remember.” You tell him. 

You expect him to let it go now that you’ve rehashed the entire plan he layed out for you years ago. You don’t remember when you got so attached to the idea. Or when you started contributing your own dreams to the plan but it had grown for you and speaking it out loud you realized how badly you needed it to happen.

“You have a list?” Steve’s chest was warm as it dawned on him that you wanted a future with him the same way he did with you.

Your face warmed, embarrassed thinking that he would tease you. “Yes. They’re all non negotiable.”

“Can I see it?” He asks, his voice soft. “Please, honey.” Honey. This is no longer best friend Steve. This is future husband Steve, making his first ever appearance. 

When you shake your head with a shy smile, Steve can’t help but smile back.”Why not?” He asks you in that same soft voice that had you feeling gooey on the inside. 

“Stop using that voice.” You whisper, feeling flushed. Steve couldn’t help but chuckle. He’d never known you to be shy, but here you were being all bossy while hiding your face in his neck. 

“You’re so perfect.” He’s teasing you, trying to see how embarrassed you’ll get. He also means every bit. “Prettiest girl in the world.”

“You’re bein’ weird.” You tell him unsure what to do with yourself with all these changes being made so quickly.  

“It was weird not telling you how beautiful you are everyday.” You don’t expect him to keep listing. “So sweet, too.” He adds. “Always taking care of me and never letting me praise you for it. I can’t wait to take care of you.” The implications of that do not go over your head. “Bet you’ll be such a good little wife.” 

Steve expects you to make some little quip or try to play off how embarrassed you feel. He’s expecting you to descelate how quickly he’s moving. But instead your voice whispers “I hope so.” You’re right in his ear too, so he knows he isn’t mistaken and he knows that this is the last night you’ll ever consider yourself just friends.

*****

Steve should have kissed you last night. He can’t help but think about that over and over, as he realizes he didn’t seal the deal. He should have done something to prove to you how serious he was. 

But it was too late because he didn’t kiss you and the morning had been decidedly awkward when you realized you didn’t know what any of that meant for your immediate friendship. Because initially the plan had been to wait. Was the wait over? Did you want it to be over? You spent the majority of your day trying not to think about it. Steve however wouldn’t shut up about it. Sadly for Robin she had to be on the receiving end of this conversation.

“Robin, this is serious. What if I fucked everything up? What if she thinks I’m leading her on?” Steve runs a hand through his hair, seemingly deep in thought. 

“I doubt that. I mean you’re planning on marrying her- which I take offense to not knowing about this little pact or whatever,” she adds. “But that’s like the total opposite of leading on.” She tries to reassure wanting to really get Steve to shut up about it.

“No you don’t get it-” Steve starts again, only to be interrupted. 

“Ughhhh!! How can I not get it if this is your sixth time going over it? Steve, I get it! You’re overthinking this when it’s really simple.” Robin gestures. “You love her and you want to get married and blah blah blah, but before you guys get married how about you try to, I don’t know actually date?” She says sarcastically. “Unless you were just going to propose after a thousand years of sleepovers and dating other people.” She adds. 

And although it was unnecessarily sassy, Steve realized that Robin might have a point. “So I should ask her out?” He tries to clarify much to Robin’s dismay. Luckily for her the door opening saved her from another round of easily answered questions. And even more lucky for her it was you and not an actual customer.

“Hey what are you-” Steve was cut off by you taking his hand and dragging him to where you knew the break room was after bringing him lunch on multiple occasions. You had tried and failed to not think about this whole situation. 

The one thing that had been bothering you the most is how long it was taking. You realized it was because you let Steve call the shots, and you quickly remembered why you never let Steve call the shots. Steve took too long to make decisions and well you knew what you wanted. So you had always been the leader in your friendship, deciding what movies you’d watch, what games you’d play, the parties you would go to. Everything really. You could do that here too, you realized. 

When you close the door behind you Steve is looking at you expectantly. He’s half thinking that you’re gonna cuss him out, so he doesn’t expect it when you grab him by his shirt to kiss him. You’re all over him for about five seconds. Your scent. Your taste. Your skin. Your hair. Then you’re gone. Patting his shirt back in place, shakily. You’re nervous. Steve realizes. 

“Okay that was all-” Steve’s pulling you back to him before you can run off. Letting his lips capture yours just the way he’d dreamed of. Feeling you relax into him as he cradles your face.

“So sweet.” He murmurs against your lips. He finds it amusing how the words send you back into your shyness from last night. The way you went from determined to timid and unable to even look at him properly. Steve was curious about this side of you. You were never this easily flustered.

“When did you get so shy?” He asks and you know he’s taunting you. He’s still holding you close to him, his fingers messing with the ends of your hair as he tries to find any reason to keep touching you. 

“M’not.” You oppose half-heartedly. He lets out a gentle sound of acknowledgment, obviously ignoring you, and knowing he would press all those buttons later. Privately. 

“You’re so beautiful.” You think he’s still teasing you and you hate that it's working when you feel your face heat up and you’re hiding it in his chest. Steve really means it though, it was the first thought that came to his head when he saw you walking through the door. Your hair free and your face without makeup. A skirt that your mom would deem a few inches too short and a shirt that he’s seen a million times because you love it so much. 

Gathering your courage, you finally look at him. His kiss swollen lips are the first thing that grabs your attention the second is the way he’s looking at you. Like he’s waiting on you to call the next shot. 

“Will Robin be okay, if we go to your car?” The next few moments are a blur because now he’s the one dragging you out of the breakroom, pausing only long enough for Steve to beg Robin to cover for him. Which she agreed to with a poorly concealed smirk on her face.

You were expecting Steve to open the back door and usher you inside. Instead he opens the driver side and pats his lap expectantly, after moving his seat all the way back. When you hesitate he’s grabbing you by your thighs and maneuvering you to where he wants you. “What if someone sees us?” You ask, knowing how fast information like this whipped around town. 

“Nobody parks on this side, honey.” Steve tells you those big puppy dog eyes staring into you. And because he’s Steve, and he’s calling you honey, and you trust him more than anyone you know, you believe him. 

“Okay.” Is all you say before your lips are back on Steve’s. It was a sweet kiss really, and Steve tried to let you control it for a while, until you were trying to back away from him again. With his experienced lips working over yours, you’re so consumed you barely realize the way you’re grinding yourself over his lap. Well not until his hands are on your ass, pushing your skirt up and controlling your once sloppy movement.

“There you go, sweetheart.” He says breathlessly, when he finally comes up for air. His lips find purchase against your neck. He kisses his way up the slope of it, relishing in the sound of your little gasps, until one particular spot sends a shudder down your spine. He sucks that spot. 

Absent-mindedly, your hands find their way off his shoulders and into his hair, barely thinking about it twice before you rake your nails across his scalp softly. The soft hum he lets out gives you indication that you should continue. Your hands stay in his hair for a bit, and you’re too nervous to actually pull it, but it does get you thinking about the other places on his body he has hair. Namely his happy trail. It sat perfectly right in between his abs and you usually had to avoid looking for your own sake. 

You’re yanking his shirt out of his jeans before you give it much more thought. And even though you’re too busy humping Steve to get a good look, feeling it against your bare hands has you whimpering. 

“Stevie-” You’re cut off by your own moan as your clit catches perfectly against Steve’s zipper. It doesn’t get past Steve that you sound so fucked out. Your tone bordering on a whine, clearly frustrated.

“Look at you.” Steve coos. “Doin’ such a good job for me, sweet girl.” Pressing a light kiss to your lips. Steve couldn’t help watching you chase your own pleasure, shivering at his praise.. Your eyes pinched shut, but your hands are all over him like you know every part of his body. 

“Can you open your eyes for me?” He asks with his hands pushing your hair out your face. When you do, he admires how dazed you look. How you probably barely remember your own name. “There she is.” Steve knew he was about two seconds from coming in his pants. He was also aware of the fact that once you were done with him he’d have to go back inside to finish working his shift.

“Stevie” You start again, “M’so close. Feels so good.” You tell him, your movements becoming frantic causing your boobs to sway deliciously. You don’t register your top being pulled down, until you feel Steve licking at your nipple.

A hungry groan rising from the back of his throat. “Perfect fucking tits.” His hands leave your ass, leaving the pace to you. He pinches your right nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it to test your reaction. When you lurch into him. Humping him harder than before, he knows he’s a goner. But you are first. Your orgasm hits you so fast, it surprises you with tears springing to your eyes at the intensity. 

Steve’s a close second behind you, leaving the two of you panting and trying to catch your breath. As soon as Steve recovers he’s tending to you, pulling your top back in place, trying to see how you felt. 

He can’t help but admire that after that you went right back to your embarrassed state, obviously self conscious. “You’re perfect.” He tells you again, pressing another light kiss to your lips. When you grin at him, his heart beats fast and he can’t help but be happy at the line the two of you just crossed. 

“You too.” You say, your head is still a bit fuzzy as you check the damage. You’re about to launch into an apology about the obvious wet spot on Steve jeans but he beats you to it. “Stop worrying.” He’d been watching the spot form as time went on and kept willing it to get bigger. Liked that you were making a mess all over him and yourself too. 

“You have to go back to work.” You state, guiltily. 

“I have an extra pair of pants in the backseat, sweetheart. We’re all good.” You’re relieved for a number of reasons, climbing off him into the passenger seat. You don’t know what you were expecting but you realized it wasn’t him yanking his pants off, revealing his now cum stained gray boxers. And you certainly weren’t expecting him to drag the boxers off as well, which revealed his huge fucking dick. The tip is now sloppy and slightly red, and you can tell it isn’t as hard as it was.

“Oh fuck.” You say barely recognizing your own voice. Only to repeat yourself when he uses his sullied boxers to wipe the rest of the cum off, watching it twitch from the stimulation.

“He doesn’t like to be stared at, ya know.” Steve teases you, reaching back for his jeans. 

Your eyes keep flickering back to his face and back to his dick, and you know there’s no way he’s been carrying that around for the entirety of your friendship and you simply had no idea.

“Steve.” You say dumbfounded. No words available to express your shock, as he pulled his pants on to cover himself.

“No more ‘Stevie’?” He asks, mocking you. The smile on his face tells you he’s just messing with you but you can’t help your cheeks going up in flames.

“You’re the worst.” You huff, but you’re still smiling despite your embarrassment. 

“Mhm.” He’s reaching over the console to kiss you again, this time sweet and chaste. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll stretch you open for me, before I fuck you, sweetheart.” You gasp feeling his hand on the band of your underwear.

“Lift up for me.” You do, allowing him to pull the drenched fabric off of you, you hide your face in your hands when he lifts it to his face to sniff. You were quickly coming to the realization that your best friend was dirtier than you ever realized, even with all the gossip that got back to you.

You feel yourself manage to flush even further when he murmurs to himself “sweetest fucking girl” he stuffing them in his pocket in the next second, then reaching back over for you when his phone lights up. 

Robin’s name lighting up the screen. He huffs a little as he reads the text and you know she’s getting snappy. 

“Come on, let's go before Robin kills you.”  There’s no use in asking for your underwear back so you just pull your skirt down as far as it will go before stepping out the car, trying to ignore the slickness of your thighs. After Steve walks you to your car, he presses a kiss to your forehead, stating that you’ll talk later. 

When he walks back into Family Video he looks disheveled, a completely new pair of pants, his shirt no longer tucked and wrinkled, but Robin is relieved to know that she won’t have to answer anymore stupid questions from him.So she leaves him be for the moment, but he definitely owes her big time. 

[aikastales]

burnout (jk)

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: jeon jungkook asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend in order to get back at his ex-girlfriend. however, you soon realize his true intentions.

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: bball player!jungkook x student journalist fem!reader

𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾𝗌: yandere, dark romance, slow burn

total word count: 10k

PART ONE

Why was Jeon Jungkook at the Communications building? 

He had a red and white leather jacket on top of a white shirt, jeans, and his black combat boots. His long hair was a mess, which you guessed was due to his helmet, and when he saw you walking down the steps of the building, he perked up, smiled, and waved at you. 

At first, you weren’t even sure if it was you he was waving at, so you were a bit stunned, and looked over your shoulder. But then, you heard your name called by him. You and Jungkook were not friends. Sure, you exchanged friendly nods at each other whenever your paths would cross, but that was the end of it. In fact, the only reason why you even exchanged those friendly nods was because of Taehyung—your cousin who also happened to be his best friend since preschool. If it wasn’t for him, you and Jungkook would just pass by each other without so much as a glance. 

And so, it was only natural that you were confused and surprised when you saw him leaning against his motorcycle in front of your college’s building, apparently waiting for you. 

“Y/N, hey,” Jungkook greeted with a smile on his handsome face once he was near you. 

Still confused, you returned the smile, adjusting the strap of your backpack hanging over your shoulder. “Hi, Jungkook. Is everything okay?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, everything is—everything’s fine,” he said. Then, he cleared his throat. “Do you have time like right now? My treat.” He asked, his doe eyes piercing into yours. 

You could not believe what you just heard. “What?” Was all you could reply. 

Jungkook chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his gloved hand. “I know. It’s a shock, right? Believe me, I am too, but I just really need to talk to you about something. I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t so important.” 

“Is it about Taehyung? Is he okay? Did he get into trouble?” You asked, alert. It was the only logical answer why Jungkook waited for you and why he wanted to talk to you. Taehyung was the only person connecting the both of you. 

Jungkook shook his head. “No, no, it’s not about Taehyung, but he’s fine. He’s in his class right now. Look,” he sighed deeply, licking his lower lip with the tip of his tongue before staring at you once more. “Yiseul, I just really need to talk to you. In private.”

You debated whether to go with him or not. This was Jeon Jungkook. Despite his tattoos, broad shoulders, piercings, and big bike—he was harmless. He was your cousin’s best friend, and even though you two weren’t friends, he looked like he needed one at the moment. Besides, you wouldn’t deny that a part of you wasn’t curious as to why he needed to talk to you. That and the fact that because you had been in love with him since you met him when you were thirteen, how could you say no to something that you had only imagined in your wildest dreams? 

“Okay. Okay, let’s go,” you agreed, heart beating rapidly. “Where are we going?” 

Jungkook’s smile widened when you agreed. “There’s a basement cafe twenty minutes from here. It’s called Seven.” 

The both of you began making your way towards his motorcycle. “Just how private is this conversation going to be?” you asked supposedly only for yourself, but accidentally, you said it out loud. 

“I guess you already have an idea on how private it needs to be considering the location,” he chuckled. “But don’t worry—I promise you’ll get home in one piece.” 

Jungkook handed you his extra helmet, and you were thankful that you didn’t wear a dress that day. After placing your backpack in front of your chest, you wore the helmet. “Can you give me a hint on what it’s about?” 

You couldn’t help it. You were curious. 

“I remember you always being curious, Y/N. Glad you haven’t changed at all,” Jungkook said, mounting his motorcycle. “In twenty minutes, you’ll know. If you ride now, you’ll know in fifteen minutes.” 

You thought he looked so attractive as he smiled and waited for you on his motorcycle. His smile was so infectious that you couldn’t help but to return it. “Alright, fine,” you say. Then, you mounted his motorcycle, placing your hands on his firm shoulders. 

“Ready?” Jungkook asked, placing his key into the ignition, briefly glancing at you. 

“Yeah, ready,” you replied. He started the engine and you held onto your backpack for dear life. You had seen Jungkook drive his motorcycle before and the only way you could describe it was fast. 

“Alright. Let’s go.” 

Jungkook drove off. 

As promised, fifteen minutes later, you arrived at Seven. It was indeed a basement cafe, secluded from the busy city streets and tucked in between fruit stands and ready-to-wear clothes inside an alley. You were the first to get off his motorcycle, taking your helmet off. Shaking your head, you took in your surroundings while Jungkook took his motorcycle garments off. 

The alley was alive with mostly elderly people buying fruits and high schoolers buying the RTWs. The tangerines stood out due to their bright color against the setting sun. You wondered when and how Jungkook came to know the place, if he frequented it, why he chose this place over all other cafes. 

“Y/N? Let’s go inside?” Jungkook asked, gesturing to you to enter the cafe first. 

You nodded, entering Seven. As a basement cafe, the first thing you noticed were the windows placed near the ceiling. A permanent sepia hue covered the entire establishment due to its yellow orange lights. The walls were painted gray, tables and chairs white. There were only a few tables and chairs, and Jungkook led the way to the one at the very back. 

He pulled the chair out of you which you thanked him for, and you sat down. Jungkook followed afterwards, placing the helmets on the table between the both of you. 

“What do you want?” He asked, pulling his chair closer to the table. 

“Honestly, I’m more curious on why you want to talk to me than have any drinks here,” you told him, placing your backpack on the floor beside your chair. 

Jungkook chuckled, leaning his back against his chair. “Alright. Should I just say it?” 

You nodded. 

“I was hoping that you’ll pretend to be my girlfriend to make Haemin jealous,” Jungkook said so casually that you were completely and utterly stunned. Did you just hear him correctly? Upon seeing your reaction, he continued, “She broke up with me a month ago, and to be honest, I saw it coming already. We were getting into a lot of meaningless fights, always finding faults in one another, and just overall, being toxic to each other. So, when she broke up with me, I did not put up a fight, and just let her be,” Jungkook scoffed, shaking his head lightly. “Then, I learned that she was seeing Han Riyeo, that fucking bastard from Yongsan, behind my back for three months, and I want to get back at her.” 

His explanation did not help you grasp what he just said previously. You were still stunned, but you managed to ask, “Why me?” 

“For reasons I still don’t know, Haemin was always jealous of you,” he confessed.

Now, that was a surprise. “What? You and I barely had any interaction.” 

“I know, but I suspect it’s because you’re there whenever I hang out with Taehyung,” Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, then ran his fingers through his hair. “So? Will you help me, Y/N?” 

“This is pretty childish, don’t you think?” you told him, eyebrows furrowed. 

Jungkook crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll pay you. I know you need the money. Taehyung mentioned you’re saving for the deposit on this apartment you want to rent.” 

You stared at him, trying to find any trace of mischief in his eyes and body language but found none. Jungkook was serious. A part of you knew that the logical answer would be to decline his offer. It was childish, as you had told him. It was a nuisance and it would do nothing but bring problems and complications in your life. Your life was complicated enough, and you didn’t need to add Jeon Jungkook’s fake girlfriend to your list of complications. 

But this was Jeon Jungkook. The person you had been in love with since you were thirteen. The person you supported, cheered on, and loved unconditionally from afar because it was all that you could do. You would be lying if you said that you did not imagine yourself being his girlfriend—going to every game, wearing his jersey, riding his motorcycle, going on dates, taking lots of photos and videos of him, hugging, and even kissing him—because you did, countless times. You would also be lying if you didn’t think that you could love him better than Haemin ever did. 

They said love makes you do crazy things. You didn’t think that applied to you. You loved Jeon Jungkook, and you didn’t think that that love would fade anytime soon. So, even though you knew that this was pretend and paid, you said, “Okay. I’ll do it.” 

After your orders arrived, the both of you continued your conversation. 

“So, how will this work?” you asked, sipping your iced chocolate drink. 

Jungkook put up a finger, chewing the cheeseburger he ordered, and afterwards, he replied, “We act like a couple. Go on dates, post them on social media, and all that.” 

You were never someone who did things half-assed. If you were going to get paid to fake date someone, you might as well go all out. Also, perhaps, a part of you just wanted to make the most out of being Jeon Jungkook’s fake girlfriend. 

“I don’t think that would be enough to make Haemin jealous. If you really want that, we should do the things you either only did with her or promised to do with her,” you pointed out.

Jungkook nodded. “I see. You got a point.” 

“So, what are those things? The things you did for her and the things you promised to do with her?” 

He inhaled deeply, scratching the side of his nose as he thought. “Well, I pick her up everyday. Take her out on picnic dates, study with her, and I go to her recitals.” 

You nodded. “Okay. Then, you should pick me up everyday, take me out on picnic dates, study with me, and well, I don’t really do any recitals.” 

“Alright. I’ll do that,” Jungkook grinned. “As for the things I promised to do with her—the first thing that popped in my mind was that I promised I’ll take her to my brother’s wedding.” 

“We shouldn’t involve our families in this. Me being Taehyung’s cousin is complicated enough,” you remarked. 

“Okay. How about this? We made plans to go out of town during winter break. Do you wanna do that?” 

“Where?” 

“My sister-in-law runs a small resort in Busan. It’s by the beach,” 

You pressed your lips together, nodding. “Okay. That could work.”

“For my part, you have to go to my games. That’s pretty much all you have to do, and of course, the dates.” 

“That’s already a given,” you told him. “I’m assigned to cover your games this season.” 

“Right. You are the News editor of the Times. I’m honored,” Jungkook placed a hand on his chest, bowing his head at you. 

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I have a question.” 

“Go for it.” 

“What will happen when Haemin gets jealous? Will we “break up” and the two of you will get back together?” you asked, cautiously, but also curiously. 

“I have no plans of getting back together with her,” Jungkook answered. “But when she finally gets jealous and tells me about it, then revenge is served. I guess then we’ll break up. But don’t worry, I’ll pay you handsomely every time so you could move into that apartment of yours. It’s the least I could do after you agreed to do this with me.” 

It shouldn’t have stung the way it did. After all, this was only paid and pretend, but it did. 

“Alright,” you said. “We should shake hands on it.” 

You extended your hand toward him and Jungkook sealed the deal with his firm handshake. “Starting today, you’re my girl, Y/N.” 

You would be the first to admit that looking after Kim Taehyung was something you did out of debt of gratitude toward his parents. After your father passed away when you were only eleven years old, your mother couldn’t afford to send you to school, so his parents financed your education since then and until now that you were in college. You lived with Taehyung at the condominium they bought for him near the university and since you were on scholarship through your membership at the official student publication of Jamsil University, The Jamsil Times, they only paid for your miscellaneous fees every semester. 

Because of these, you felt like Taehyung was your responsibility. You had to take care of him, look after him, tutor him, make sure he did all his school work, attend his classes, and be there every time he asked you to. It felt like when it came to him and his parents, you couldn’t say no because if you did, you could easily lose your housing and education.

It didn’t help that Taehyung seemed to attract trouble wherever he was. He even gained a nickname for it in high school which followed him in college, “Trouble Taehyung.” You couldn’t remember the times you apologized on his behalf, woke up in the middle of the night from a call from one of his so-called friends asking if you could pick him up as he was drunk and bruised, and ensured none of his troubles reached his parents. 

Tonight was no different. 

You woke up from the sound of your phone vibrating against your desk. You didn’t realize that you had fallen asleep, studying for your upcoming midterms exam, and when you woke up, you could feel the soreness of your neck and lower back. With one eye open, your vision adjusted to the bright light coming from your phone, and saw Park Jimin’s name flashing on your screen. Immediately, you knew why he was calling you. There could only be one reason: Kim Taehyung. 

“Hello?” your voice was hoarse, groggy from your slumber. 

“Y/N? I’m sorry I woke you up, didn’t I? It’s—,” 

“Taehyung, I know. What happened this time?” you sighed deeply, rubbing your face with your free hand. “Where are you guys?” 

“He got into an argument with this guy, and well, it led to a fight. He’s bruised, bleeding, but he refuses to go to a hospital, but—,” 

“Hey! Is that Y/N? I told you not to call her, Park Jimin!” you could hear Taehyung’s voice in the background which made you sigh once more. Moments later, it was Taehyung who was on the call with you. “Y/N, sorry. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Jimin’s just a worry wart.” 

“Taehyung,” you were tired and it was evident in your tone. “Go to the hospital if you’re bleeding. It might get infected.” 

“I can’t,” he replied. “Mom is going to find out. It’s a small world, you know that,” his tone was low, cautious, as though he did not want anyone else hearing him. “I’m fine. I’ll put on some ointment and band-aid and I’m good.” 

You wished you didn’t give a shit about him. But you did. Whether it was out of debt of gratitude or not, you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you didn’t help him. Perhaps, you had gotten so used to it that it had become a part of you already, like a hobby, like a memory. 

“Where are you, Taehyung?” 

“Y/N, seriously, I’m—,” 

“Taehyung, just tell me where you are,” your patience was wearing thin and Taehyung knew that. 

“We’re at Jungkook’s apartment,” he muttered. 

Even the mention of his name was enough for the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. Even by just hearing his name, your irritation seemed to slowly fade away. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in a while. I’m gonna use your car, okay?” 

“Okay. Y/N, I’m sorry,” Taehyung apologized and you could hear his sincerity. 

“Don’t be,” you told him as you stood up from your chair. “See you. I’ll hang up now.” 

Just how deep does blood run? 

You were at Jungkook’s apartment minutes later, thanks to no traffic and him only living fifteen minutes from Taehyung’s condominium. When you rang the bell to his unit, you already expected that he would be the one to answer the door. You just didn’t expect that he would be wearing gray sweatpants and a white loose muscle tee showing off his toned tattooed arm. Seeing him in that light, you couldn’t help but feel more attracted to him. Jungkook was truly a sight to see. 

“Hey,” he greeted you with a smile. “Come inside.” 

“Thanks,” you told him, entering his apartment. It was simple, neat, and smelled of vanilla. You took off your shoes by the doorway, placing a hand on the wall beside you. “Where’s Taehyung?” 

“Kitchen,” he replied behind you. “Y/N,” his hot breath fanned over your exposed neck, making you shiver. “I’ll linger around you, alright? That way, they could get a hint that something’s going on with us. Is that okay?” he whispered. 

His low tone was simply mesmerizing. “Okay,” you breathed out. Thank god you had your hand on that wall otherwise you would have literally fallen. 

“Okay,” he chuckled, and led the way to the kitchen. 

“Y/N!” Taehyung exclaimed when he saw you. He was sitting on one of the stools in the kitchen island while Jimin looked through the refrigerator. 

You gave him a tight-lipped smile and made your way toward him, placing the plastic bag you hand in your hand on the counter beside you. Taehyung jumped off the stool he was sitting on, instantly giving you a squeezing hug. He was always an affectionate boy growing up. You weren’t so you found it uncomfortable at first. But the more Taehyung did it, you got used to it. 

“Let me see your bruise,” you guided him back to the stool, and began taking out the first aid you bought along the way. The bruise wasn’t as serious as you thought it would be. You were expecting that he would have a black eye, a deep cut that would need stitches, but it was manageable by you. Jimin was overreacting, you concluded. “What happened? How did you get this?” 

As you began to clean the cut on Taehyung’s cheek, Jimin sat down across from your cousin while Jungkook made his way near you. 

“One minute I was dancing next to some girl, the next, her boyfriend landed a punch on my face. I didn’t know she had a boyfriend—she told me she was single,” Taehyung explained. 

“Didn’t know my ass,” Jimin scoffed. “Everyone knows Heejin is with Taemin. Everyone also knows that Taemin’s a crazy jealous bastard. You were just looking for trouble, as always.” 

“I was not,” your cousin retorted, throwing the medical tape you bought at his friend. 

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. “Stop it, you two,” you hissed, pressing the cotton ball a bit harder against Taehyung’s bruise. He winced. “Is that true?” you asked him. 

Taehyung didn’t answer. You sighed. 

“You knew it was wrong, and yet, you did it anyway knowing it’ll just get you in trouble,” you muttered. “Why did you do it?” 

Taehyung sighed deeply. “Because Taemin’s a piece of shit.” 

“You’re also a piece of shit,” Jimin snorted. “Both of you are the biggest pieces of shit at Jamsil.” 

“Do you wanna get punched?” 

“Let’s go right now,” 

“Hey, stop it. You’re so fucking loud,” Jungkook reprimands the two bickering men. “You already woke me up from my sleep by going here. Don’t wake up the entire fucking building.” 

Moments later, you finished tending to Taehyung’s cut. “All done. Come on, let’s go home.” 

Taehyun didn’t protest. You began to clean up your mess, placing everything back into the plastic bag. Silence filled Jungkook’s kitchen. The three of you weren’t close so there were no conversations where all of you could participate. 

“Let’s go,” you bowed your head at Jimin as a farewell which he returned. Then, your eye caught Jungkook’s gaze. You weren’t sure what to do. Fortunately, Jungkook was quick-witted. 

“I’ll walk you guys out,” he said coolly, pushing himself off of the sink he was leaning against. 

“No need. Just go back to sleep. Thanks for letting us in,” Taehyung shook his head, patting his best friend’s shoulder as he passed by him. 

“I insist,” Jungkook responded. 

“Can I stay here tonight?” Jimin asked Jungkook as he made his way out of the kitchen. 

“Yeah sure,” 

You followed Jungkook and Taehyung out of the former’s apartment. As you and your cousin slipped on your shoes, Jungkook waited outside his apartment. 

“Are you mad at me?” Taehyung asked, meeting your gaze. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

“I’m not mad at you,” you assured him. “But you have to stop involving and getting yourself into trouble, Tae. Sooner or later, you’ll end up getting really hurt.” 

“I will, I promise,” he smiled at you and you nodded, exiting the apartment. 

The three of you walked down the hallway; the two boys walking on your sides. You weren’t sure if Jungkook was consciously doing it, but it was making your heart pound. Whenever your fingers brushed against his, there was an electric shock that flew through your body. And as you reached the end of the hallway and in front of the elevator, and when the doors opened, Jungkook placed his hand at your lower back, gesturing you to enter the lift first. 

You looked at him, and there was a knowing smile plastered on his face that made you blush. “After you,” he said. 

You were fucking lovestruck. 

Championships cast a spell in your school. Jamsil University’s premier sport was basketball and with an all-star lineup this year—it was not even up for discussion that your university would be one of the teams playing out to become this year’s champions.

To say the least, sports were not your thing. While you understood the basics, it wasn’t something you were interested in. Your father had enrolled you in a tennis class once but after witnessing how, simply out, awful you are at the sports, he dropped the ‘I want my daughter to be athletic’ narrative he was going for. That being said, you rarely attended any of the games Jamsil athletes participated in. But seeing as you were assigned to cover the basketball games this season, you had no other choice. Besides, your “boyfriend” was playing. 

That’s how you found yourself at the gym of Jamsil, stressed as you took pictures and typed down the game on your phone. Frustrated, you sat on the bench behind you as the bell rang, signaling the end of the first half. As you read the draft on your notepad, you shook your head at the numerous times you used the word ‘tackle’—in your defense, it was all that you could see during the game. It was a particularly brutal game which made you wonder, was the game something more personal for the players? You only heard rumors, after all.

With a sigh, you made a mental note to fix the notes once you’re home. Standing up, you placed the phone inside your jeans’ back pocket and readied the Times’ camera to capture the ‘Half-time huddle’ that Bang Chan, the Sports Editor, had specifically asked you to take. As you made your way towards the basketball team, you took some shots of the audience as well as the Jamsil’s Cheerleading Team performing in the middle of the court. The blaring music and loud cheers from both schools as the cheerleaders performed filled the entire gymnasium, unconsciously making you smile. It was not everyday that you saw some sort of unity at your uni.

You focused your camera on the huddled team of Jamsil but dissatisfied, you tried another angle. Bang Chan’s words play in your mind: “The half-time huddle is one of the most important shots during these games, Y/N. The play they’re setting up will either make them or break them. Make sure you capture it.”

Then, the idea hit you. You hurriedly made your way on the other side of the team, hearing Coach Song’s booming voice telling his players the game even with all the screaming and cheers. You moved the towels and water bottles on the bench aside, then you stepped on it and placed the camera above the huddled team. Smiling, you knew you found the perfect angle. Making sure that the camera was focused, you inhaled deeply and as you were about to click the shutter button—a face turned to face the lens and a gasp escaped your lips, shocked and you felt yourself losing balance. Bracing for impact, you clutched the camera tightly against your chest and closed your eyes with one thing in mind: If this breaks, I am so screwed.

It felt like eternity as you waited for the impact. Opening your eyes, you see a pair of round brown eyes, staring at you in concern, eyebrows furrowed. Your breath hitched in your throat as realization hit you. Around your waist, you felt strong arms supporting you; hot breath fanned your face and you felt something liquid dripping on your forehead.

“Y/N, are you okay?” When he spoke, you immediately snapped back to reality and you wriggled yourself out of his grip—flustered and ground-swallow-me-up embarrassed. Your cheeks were burning as you collected yourself. “Y/N?”

It was as if the entire gymnasium had their focus on you and Jungkook. 

“Jeon, what the fuck, get back here,” Coach Song hissed.

Fuck me, you thought as you cleared your throat. “Thanks,” you whispered to him. 

Jungkook smiled—the boyishly charming smile that made you fall in love with him all those years ago. Then, he did something that made you fall in love with him all over again. 

“Wish me luck, babe,” Jungkook said before wrapping his tattooed arm around your waist and placing a kiss on your cheek. “The game’s on, Y/N. No turning back now.” 

You wished this was real. His kiss was real. But even if it wasn’t, indeed, there was no turning back now. The game had begun. 

PART TWO

As predicted and expected, Jamsil won the championship. But instead of the student body celebrating the fourth championship in a row, apparently, the majority could only talk about you and Jungkook—specifically the kiss he gave you on the cheek. You had expected this, of course. After all, Jeon Jungkook was Jamsil University’s golden boy. He was popular, smart, and overall, an exemplary student who not only excelled in his sports, but in his academics as well. Moreover, he was also the president of the photography club. 

What you didn’t expect was Taehyung lashing out at you. You expected him to be confused, baffled, in disbelief, but lashing out at you? You were confused, to say the least. Taehyung had never done it before. 

After finishing covering the basketball game, you hurriedly made your way back to the Publication Office. Once there, you took off the camera around your neck, breathing heavily. With both your hands on your table, you hung your head low, squeezing your eyes shut, and letting yourself calm down. It was during this moment that the door at the office swung open and your cousin stepped in. 

You looked at him over your shoulder and for the first time, you saw fury in his eyes. 

“You’re dating Jungkook?” He asked. “Tell me the truth.” 

With your lips pressed tightly, you nodded. Taehyung scoffed, tilting his head to the side, and shaking it in disbelief. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N? You and Jungkook?” He pressed, taking a step towards you. “When did it start? How did it start? Why are you dating him?” 

“I don’t really need to explain myself to you, Taehyung,” you told him. “Especially who I’m dating.” 

“Yes, you do. You need to explain that to me,” he retorted. 

“Why? Why do I need to explain it to you?” 

“Because you’re dating my fucking best friend and you’re my cousin!” He exclaimed, catching you off guard as you flinched. When he saw this, Taehyung’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you. I just—I don’t get it.” 

“What don’t you get?” you asked, turning to completely face him. “Why someone like me is with someone like him?” 

“Y/N, that’s not what I mean,” Taehyung sighed deeply. “I just feel like—like the two most important people in my life betrayed me.” 

You exhaled deeply. In a way, you could understand him. You could understand where he was coming from. But before you could respond, Jungkook appeared by the doorway of the office. 

“Don’t get mad at her, Tae, it’s my fault for not telling you first,” Jungkook said. He was still in his jersey, covered in sweat, and one hand holding a bottle of red Gatorade. There was a towel hanging around his neck. He walked towards you, and when he stood beside you, he held your hand. “I’m sorry if you feel like we betrayed you. We just wanted to find the right time to tell you.” 

“Right time,” Taehyung scoffed once more. “It didn’t look like it when you kissed her.” 

Jungkook squeezed your hand. It sent a jolt throughout your body. “What was I supposed to do? My girlfriend was there,” Jungkook’s response only riled Taehyung more. Upon seeing this, the basketball player said, “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. But there’s nothing you could do or say that could make us break up, Tae. I’m sorry but you’re just gonna have to deal with it.” 

“Can you fucking leave? I need to talk to Y/N privately,” Taehyung hissed, rolling his eyes. 

This time, you cut Jungkook before he could reply. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’ll see you after.” You looked at your fake boyfriend, smiling at him. 

Jungkook looked like he didn’t want to leave so you squeezed his hand. He clicked his tongue, sighing. “I’ll change and meet you outside the building.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. 

You nodded and once again, he pressed his lips against your cheek, making you blush but now, out of embarrassment because your cousin was literally in front of you. Taehyung groaned, throwing his head back. “Leave, Jeon Jungkook!” He exclaimed, pulling him off of you. 

Jungkook chuckled before making his way out of the office. 

Once he was out of earshot, Taehyung stepped closer towards you. “Y/N, you’re right—who you date is not something I should mind or dictate. But you’re my cousin and I care about you and I don’t want you to get hurt. Jungkook—he’s my best friend in the world and has been since we were little. I know him. So, the two of you together—I just can’t accept it.” 

You didn’t know why you were feeling angry as the seconds passed. “We’re not asking for your blessing, Taehyung.” 

“Y/N, you don’t understand. Jungkook may be charming and all that goody two shoes shit in front of everyone, but he’s trouble. You’re only setting yourself up for a lifetime of heartbreak,” your cousin shook his head. “Please. Date whoever you want; not just Jungkook.” 

“I made up my mind, Tae,” you said, shaking your head. “I want to be with him and you can’t do anything about it. I’m gonna go home. I’m tired and exhausted. I know you’ll be going to the afterparty so please don’t get yourself into trouble. Take care, Tae.” 

“Y/N,” he called out but you didn’t respond anymore. You just packed up your things. “Y/N, please.” 

“See you at home, Tae,” you gave him a small smile before leaving the office. 

Why was he so adamant that you don’t date Jeon Jungkook? This question popped in your head as you were making your way out of the Communications building. But you erased it in your mind—Taehyung was just shocked, probably weirded out too that his best friend and cousin were dating. 

Why is he trouble? Another question propped in your mind. 

You sighed deeply. All these questions would be answered when you meet with Jungkook as you made a mental note to ask him. For now, you just wanted to rest. 

The buzzing sound of your phone vibrating against your desk woke you up from your slumber. With a groan, you sat up, stretching your arms wide, cracking your neck, and letting out a relieved sigh. You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but the last thing you remembered was fixing your planner. When you looked at the caller ID, Jungkook’s name flashed on the screen. For a moment, you were confused why he was calling you, and then it hit you. 

I’ll change and meet you outside the building. 

You quickly answered the call. “Jungkook, hey.” 

“Y/N, are you okay? I waited for you outside the Comm building, but Taehyung said you went home. I’ve been trying to reach you,” Jungkook sounded concerned, in contrast to the sound of cheering and music in the background. He must have been at the afterparty already, you concluded. 

“I’m okay,” you assured him. “I’m sorry. I was just tired so I went home. Are you at the afterparty?” 

“Yeah,” he replied. “The guys dragged me to it, but it’s not really fun. Or maybe I’m just not in the mood. I’m glad you’re okay though. I was worried.” 

Your heart fluttered yet again. 

“I’m okay. Have fun at the afterparty,” you said, rubbing your eye with your knuckle. 

“Y/N, I was hoping you could come tonight, here, at the afterparty, and start our agreement.” 

Just like that, you were reminded of reality. 

“Oh,” you replied, hoping you didn’t sound disappointed. “Um, I don’t know where that is.” 

It was common knowledge that invitations for after parties at Jamsil for championships were only through word of mouth. Not everyone was invited. The only reason you knew of the location of the last three after parties were because of, again, your cousin Taehyung. 

“It’s okay, I’ll come pick you up.” 

“I don’t know what I should wear. I don’t go to a lot of parties,” you said, playing with the loose thread on the hem of the shirt you were wearing. It was a habit of yours whenever you were nervous—you needed to play with something whether it was your necklace, earrings, rings, sleeves, etcetera. 

“It doesn’t matter. You look good in everything, Y/N. I’m serious,” Jungkook responded. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, okay? Don’t worry too much about what to wear. Just wear what’s comfortable.” 

“Okay. Drive safely, Jungkook.” 

When the phone call ended, you were reminded of what tonight would be, and gone were the worries about what you should wear. Tonight was going to be the night you were going to officially begin helping Jungkook take his revenge on Haemin. You felt like throwing up. 

You were hit by the reality, once again, of what this agreement was about. Jungkook wasn’t being sweet to you because he wanted to but because he needed to. He wasn’t inviting you to the afterparty because he wanted to but because he needed to. He was only talking to you because he was paying you. It was time for you to take things at face value. With that in mind, you began to change. 

True to his word, Jungkook arrived fifteen minutes later. It was a whiplash when you saw him at the door, waiting for you instead of your cousin. Wearing a white Calvin Klein shirt tucked under his washed jeans, black combat boots, and his curly hair parted in the middle, he was nothing short of beauty even in the simplicity of his attire. In one hand, he was clutching a denim jacket. 

“Hey,” he greeted as soon as you opened the door. “You look great, Y/N.” 

You suppressed the urge to smile and just nodded. Stepping outside of Taehyung’s condominium unit, you avoided his gaze. “Let’s go.” 

“Is everything okay?” he asked. 

You nodded, clutching the strap of your messenger bag. “Everything’s fine. Let’s just go. Where’s the afterparty anyway?” 

“Y/N,” Jungkook’s hand found its way gently around your wrist, stopping you on your tracks. “Seriously, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong, Jungkook. I just really wanna get over this,” you said with a sigh. 

“I don’t believe you,” he pointed out, still holding onto your wrist. “We don’t have to go to the afterparty if you don’t want to.” 

“No, let’s go. Otherwise, how will you make Haemin jealous?” you stated, plastering a smile on your face even though you were anything but happy. “The sooner she gets jealous, the sooner she will want to be with you again, and the sooner I’ll get my deposit, and move out from here. The sooner everyone wins.” 

There was an indescribable expression on Jungkook’s face. Although his grip on your wrist remained gentle, you could feel the tension brewing between the both of you. 

“You’re right,” he muttered after a while. “Let’s get this over with.” 

As expected, the afterparty was at a club. You hadn’t been to one but it was exactly as you expected a club to be. Packed with dancing college students, drinks everywhere, smoke in the air, suffocating you the moment you entered the establishment, blinding red, blue, green lights, and booming EDM and Top 40 hits songs blasting on the speakers. Jungkook led the way, holding your hand tightly, and you held his just as tight. You didn’t know where he was taking you, but you guessed that it was where Haemin would be. After all, she was the reason why you were here. 

So, it was a surprise when you passed by her and her friends, and toward the staircase. 

“Jungkook! Where are we going?!” you yelled over the loud music. . 

Jungkook didn’t respond, but you knew that he heard you because he pulled you closer to him. And you let him lead you because it was him. You’d let him lead you anywhere if it meant being this close to him. Because no matter what you tell yourself—that this was all fake and pretend and paid—a part of you would always, always believe that he, in some way, reciprocated your feelings sincerely. 

Jungkook passed by the people greeting him along the way until, finally, you reached the empty rooftop. Overlooking the city and its skylines, it was simply breathtaking. There were only broken benches, bottles of beers and discarded cigarette buds on the rooftop along with cracked pots of withered flowers. Here, Jungkook let go of your hand, reached for something from his denim jacket’s pocket—a pack of cigarette and lighter—and offered it to you. 

“I don’t smoke,” you simply stated. It was news to you that he smoked. You knew athletes were forbidden due to health reasons, but you weren’t also naive that you didn’t think some did. 

He nodded, picked one from the box, placed it in between his lips, lit it up, and began to smoke. You took a deep breath, and made your way toward the edge of the rooftop. Moments later, Jungkook was beside you. 

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” he said, the smell of cigarette strong, making you nauseous. But you didn’t tell him that. 

You thought hard. Jungkook knew nothing about you besides being Taehyung’s cousin. It shouldn’t be that hard but it was, for some reason. And so, you said, “There’s really not much that you should know.” 

To which he replied, “Oh, come on, there must be something,” He nudged your side slightly, letting out a chuckle as he took a long drag. “Don’t think too hard. Just tell me the first thing that comes to your mind.” 

And so, you did. Before you knew it, you said, “I haven’t had my first kiss yet.” 

“Seriously?” Jungkook asked, but it wasn’t in the disgusted, you’re-in-your-twenties-and-yet-you-haven’t-kissed-somebody kind of way. It was more of a genuine shock. Like it was the hardest thing in the world to believe in.  

You chuckled, nodding. “I don’t know. I just feel weird about it.” 

“But were there any instances where you came close to kissing somebody?” he pressed, flicking his cigarette. 

“Of course, but when it came to it, I just couldn’t. It just didn’t feel…” you trailed off, unsure of what the right word was. 

“Right?” Jungkook suggested and you nodded. “I see.” 

“How about you?” you asked. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.” 

“I want to be somebody’s first kiss, and that somebody happens to be you.” 

He was the only one who could do it—cause your heart to do somersaults inside you while also making it beat so fast that you were afraid he would hear it. It was the way he stared at you at that moment, eyes flickering from your eyes which reflected the cityscape below you and the smoke from his cigarette to your parted lips, unsure of what to say from his revelation. 

“Do you think it’d feel right if I kiss you, Y/N?” 

And like always, your mind and heart screamed: this was Jungkook. Who else would you want to be your first kiss? Since you were thirteen, you had been in love with him. You only imagined this in your head, in your wildest dreams. 

And so, you nodded, afraid that if you spoke, no words would leave. 

Jungkook nodded too, and he crushed his cigarette on top of the edge of the rooftop. He stepped towards you, cupped your face, and for a moment, the world stood still. Closing your eyes, you waited for his lips to crash onto yours. 

And when it finally did, it was nothing that you had ever imagined. 

No sparks. 

No fireworks. 

It was simple, mundane, ordinary—it was a kiss. 

You held onto Jungkook’s wrists as he deepened the kiss, and yet, there were still none of the romantic aspects that you thought would happen during your first kiss. Even when Jungkook moved his hands from your face and around your waist, nothing. It tasted so bitter due to the mix of nicotine and beer that he had. 

But you didn’t mind. You were kissing Jeon Jungkook, your fake boyfriend, at a party, where all his peers were. And for that, your first kiss was still memorable. 

Oh, how Jeon Jungkook twisted your world. 

PART THREE

You had no recollection whatsoever of what happened last night; much less how you got back to your shared condominium unit with Taehyung. But if you were to guess, your cousin probably brought you home as you vaguely remembered him being at the afterparty—much to his chagrin that you came with his best friend. Other moments were like missing puzzle pieces. You only remembered flashes, and you groaned when you felt the throbbing in your temple became stronger. 

Usually, you could hold your liquor better than this. In fact, this was the first time, in a long while, that you could remember having a hangover. Your mother was your drinking buddy—started drinking with you when you were a junior in high school, and although she shouldn’t have done that, you didn’t mind. Your mother was a great mother. Your mother was your best friend. Your mother was a great parent. Yes, she had her shortcomings, but who didn’t? Certainly not you. You remembered the first time she asked you to try Soju, and subconsciously, it brought a smile to your face, and a low chuckle to escape your lips. You made a mental note to text her later.  

As you left your bed, there was a knock on your bedroom door. Knowing it was your cousin, you told him to come in while you fixed your bed, and looked for your phone in the process. 

“Your phone’s in your bag,” Taehyung muttered as he stepped inside your room, and leaned against the wall of the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. “I brought you home too. Jungkook wanted to, but he rode a motorcycle, and you were wasted. It wasn’t safe.” 

You nodded in understanding. You figured out that much. Like what Taehyung said, your phone was indeed inside your bag. Quickly, you unlocked it, and checked your notifications. Some were just annoying spam emails, app notifications, and automated messages from your SIM provider, but there was one message that made your heart beat quickly due to panic that you didn’t even notice Jungkook’s message. 

“Y/N, I need to talk to you,” Taehyung said. 

“We will talk, but not right now, I’m late for my tutoring session, Tae,” you hurriedly told him as you texted your tutee that you would be late, but that you would come since it was his midterms next week. 

“Y/N, I’m serious. I still don’t approve of you and Jungkook dating.” 

You should have expected this. In the years you spent with Taehyung, you should have known that he wasn’t the type of person who could accept “no” as an answer, and not getting what he wanted when and if he wanted it. You thought it only applied to everything else in his life; apparently, it also applied to your dating life. 

“Taehyung, haven’t we gotten over this? Who I date is not yours to dictate,” you shook your head, sighing deeply as you gathered everything you needed for your quick shower. You were definitely not going to attend your tutoring session dressed from last night, and smelling like beer and nicotine. 

“Jungkook’s a piece of shit as a boyfriend, Y/N. He’s crazy possessive and he gets so fucking jealous. His charming persona is just that—a persona. I don’t want you to get hurt by him, Y/N, please.” 

The desperation in his voice was evidently obvious. When you looked at him, you were unsure of what to say. How could he say that to his own best friend? 

“If he’s like that—,” 

“He is like that,” 

“Then why are you still friends with him?” you asked, pointedly. When Taehyung couldn’t give you an answer, you nodded. “Right. I thought so. I’m going now, Tae. This conversation is over.” 

When you arrived at Jamsil’s library, you were forty five minutes late to your session with Yang Jungwon, a freshman from your program, Journalism with a major in Investigative Reporting. You found him in your usual spot, writing away on his yellow pad while nodding his head along the music he was listening to. Inhaling deeply, you made your way toward him. When you were finally near him, you tapped on his shoulder, causing him to jump a little, but when he saw you—his deep dimpled smile appeared on his face. 

Yang Jungwon was like the little brother you never had but wished you had. You felt bad for thinking that way because you had Taehyung, but as stated, looking after him felt more like a responsibility you had no other choice but to take upon. With Jungwon, even though you were paid to help him with his studies, it never felt like a responsibility to you. You enjoyed spending time with him, helping him out, and sometimes, if the conversation steered into the direction, you enjoyed your deep and meaningful conversations with him. 

You smiled back at him, and took the seat beside him, sitting on it. “I’m so sorry I’m late, Jungwon. You can tell your mom that she doesn’t need to pay me for this session.” 

He shook his head. “No, noona. It’s okay. I didn’t mind the waiting. I got to use it to answer your mock tests.” 

“Really? Let me see. What did you answer first?” you asked, taking your messenger bag off of your shoulder, placing it on the table. 

“The Contemp—,” Jungwon began to say, but then he stopped, which caused you to tear your gaze away from the mock test in your hands, and to your tutee. You followed his gaze, and to your surprise, you saw Jungkook sitting across from you and Jungwon with a gentle smile on his face. He had his lip ring on—it was the first thing you noticed about him that day. 

“Jungkook, what are you doing here?” you asked, swallowing the lump in your throat. Why did it feel like you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to do? Why did you suddenly feel anxious? 

Taehyung’s words rang in your ears: He’s crazy possessive. His charming persona is just that—a persona. 

Was all of it true? Was that the reason why he was here? Because you were with another guy? 

“I guess you didn’t read my message, babe,” he chuckled. “I told you not to buy lunch anymore because I cooked some for you. Here, you can share it with your friend…” he trailed off, politely smiling at Jungwon. 

“H-Hello, I’m Yang Jungwon,” Jungwon stammered, starstruck that Jamsil’s golden boy was talking to him. 

“Hello, Jungwon. It’s nice to meet you. You can just call me hyung,” Jungkook turned to you. “I’ll get going now, okay?” He pushed the lunch box towards you. “Eat. There’s hangover soup in there too.” 

You gave him a look to which he grinned at. “Ah, don’t worry, Jungwon. She can tutor you even though she’s dr—,” 

“Okay, thank you, Jeon Jungkook,” you interrupted him, making his grin wider. You shook your head at him, but you couldn’t hide the blush coating your cheeks from his sweet gesture. Then, you wondered, as Jungkook took his leave, did he do the same thing to Haemin? 

“I didn’t know you and Jeon Jungkook hyung are dating,” Jungwon brought you out of your trance, gaze finally now upon him rather than the absent figure of Jungkook. 

“Yeah, it just happened,” you said to him. “But come on, let’s focus on your mock tests.” 

Yet despite saying that, you were the one who couldn’t focus because the only thing in your mind was: how did Jungkook know you were at the library? 

Taehyung’s words plagued your mind the entire day. Even while you were working, all you could think about was his words about his best friend. How could he say those things about Jungkook? Someone he’d been best friends with since they were little? Why was he so adamant about you not dating him? Taehyung usually kept a distance from your personal life, not even asking about your mother because he knew of the complicated relationship your family had with his family. So, why was he all over your case now that you were “dating” Jungkook? You couldn’t understand. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

Although you confirmed with the library interaction that Jungkook wasn’t the possessive type, seeing as he just walked away after giving you the lunch box, and even let Jungwon call him hyung, there was still that nagging thought in your mind: what if Taehyung’s word held weight? What if they were true? 

You thought about it: if they were true, even when you were only fake dating, would he still be as possessive as Taehyung said he was? What happened for your cousin to even tell you something like that?  

Your thoughts were put on a halt when your manager called for your name. You worked as a part-time waitress at a restaurant called Rado. You used to be a full-time employee, but since you were in your last year of uni, you asked if you could still be employed on a part-time basis, and fortunately, your manager, Han Somin, agreed. 

“Yes, Ms. Han?” you asked as you entered her small office inside the employees’ locker room. 

“Y/N, hi, come inside, I just have something to tell you,” she said, taking her eyeglasses off, and kindly smiling at you. You nodded and did as told. “It’s nothing serious,” she continued, which alleviated the nerves sinking in your bones. “I just wanted to ask if you wanted to be part of this party we’re catering to on Saturday. It’s a listening party for an artist named J-Hope; he released a new album. Maybe you’ve heard of him.” 

You shook your head. “No, Ms. Han. But I’d love to be part of the staff. Where would it be held?” 

“It’ll be held at his label’s function room. I’ll send you the details, alright?” You nodded, then she dismissed you, and went back to work. 

Money had always been a sensitive topic for you. Growing up, you knew that you didn’t have a lot but you were comfortable due to both of your parents’ wages. Your father was a simple office man while your mother had her own small flower shop. They were able to provide for your basic needs and wants but when your father passed away—your mother’s earnings at the flower shop weren’t sustainable. Hence, at an early age, you learned how to look for jobs, and learned the value of money and earning it. Hence, the reason why, besides loving Jungkook all your life, you simply could not half-ass fake dating him because it was innate in you that when you do a job, you give it your hundred percent. 

Part of you wished you didn’t have to worry about your finances. That, like other students at Jamsil, you could have fun and enjoy college life without worrying if you would still have a roof over your head eve though you failed an exam or if you would still be able to eat the next day if you buy a food late at night because you were so hungry that you couldn’t sleep. 

Having money meant having freedom to do all the things that you wanted to do—and you weren’t free. Not yet, anyway, but moving to your own place was a start. That’s why no matter what people say, you would see fake dating Jeon Jungkook through because whether you liked it or not—he was the key to your freedom. 

Saturday rolled around quickly. Adorned in your Rado’s uniform—a simple white linen long sleeve polo shirt, black slacks, black high heels, and your hair pulled back to show your face—you were already at the label’s function room preparing for the listening party of J-Hope. His music had been playing since you got there and you felt yourself being immersed and vibing to it that you made a mental note to check his other songs out afterwards. 

You were in charge of the food and drinks. Ms. Han was also present to supervise and with you was your co-worker, Kang Seulgi, and Kim Hanbin. It was an intimate type of party; hence, the small group of staff and catering. 

“I wonder who we’ll see here,” Seulgi told you as she placed the food fingers on the table while you poured drinks into the glasses. 

“I heard it’s just indie artists that J-Hope invited. It’s the target audience for his album, you see,” Hanbin piped in, fixing his necktie. 

“Whoever it is, I’m sure—,” 

“Kim Y/N, it’s nice to see you here,” 

You only heard that voice a couple of times but you wouldn’t mistake it for another. It was ingrained in your mind so deeply. It was the voice of the person you hoped was you for a long time—who got to touch, kiss, hug, care, and love Jeon Jungkook for four years. It was the voice of the person who was Jeon Jungkook’s first love, and most likely still loved. It was the voice of the person that was never going to be you in his life. It was the voice of: 

“Lee Haemin.” 

PART FOUR (a sneak peek)

“Lee Haemin.” 

In one word, she was beautiful. Dressed in a small black dress with thin straps and a pair of black heels, her silky black hair pulled back, showing off her idol-like face, Lee Haemin was just a sight to behold. Smiling at you, she took a step forward. 

“Is it okay if we talk?” she asked. 

As though you were hypnotized, you nodded wordlessly. A part of you already knew what the talk would be, or at least that’s what you thought. Nodding back, Haemin smiled at Seulgi and Hanbin before leading you out of the function room and somewhere more private. She opened a door leading to what seemed like the conference room, and gestured that you enter first so you did. She followed in suit, and you took a short time to look at your surroundings. 

It was all white with an oval table in the middle and black swivel chairs surrounding it. Adjacent to you were the ceiling to floor windows, showcasing the city landscape. Connected at the top was a projector and on the left side was a projector screen. You wondered how Haemin got access to such room, and as though reading your mind, she said: 

“My family owns a stock, if you’re wondering why I got access to this room. We can pretty much use any room in the company.”

Nodding your head, you turned to face her. “I see. That’s great. I didn’t know that.” 

“Not many people do,” she answered. “But that isn’t really why I wanted to talk to you.” 

“I know,” you replied. “You wanna talk about Jeon Jungkook.” 

Haemin smiled. “I heard you’re dating him.” 

“From who? Taehyung?” You knew they were friends. Not exactly close, but they were acquainted due to Jungkook. 

She shook her head. “From Jungkook." Stunned, your mouth parted ways a little. Haemin smiled. "Surprising, I know, but it truly was him who told me that he was with you." 

"Why would he say that to you?" 

"Because he loved me first." 

And it was the truth. The truth hurts but it was the truth nevertheless. You weren't the first person he ever loved, ever had a deep and humane connection with. Everything about your relationship was a lie, a cover up. Theirs was true and real. Jungkook loved Haemin; not you.

Forcing a smile upon your face, you answered, “He loves me now. I don’t see the point of having this conversation, to be honest.”

“No, he doesn’t love you, Y/N. He wants you. Those two things are different,” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Hence, Haemin continued, “Loving someone lights up your world. Wanting someone, now that’s a different thing. To want something is to own it.” 

“And your point? Jungkook wants to own me?” Even your words sent shivers down your spine. You loved Jungkook since you could remember. But did you want him to own you? 

“Yes,” she replied. “Jungkook’s the type of person who gets and gets and gets and never likes to not have what he wants, what he needs. I’m telling you all these because prior to him dating you,” she smiled when she said ‘dating’ as though she knew it was only fake. “He lost me. Now he’s trying to get you to get me back, to own me again. But I don’t want that anymore. I don’t love him anymore. Don’t trap yourself. Get out as early as you can.” 

You didn’t know what to say. So, you did the only thing you could do: walk away. But then Haemin called your name, and you stopped on your tracks, looking at her over your shoulder. “Don’t let love blind you, Y/N. I know you’ve loved him for years, but he’s only going to break you—mind, body, soul.” 

“Thank you for the advice, Haemin,” you told her. “But I didn’t need it. Please respect my relationship with Jungkook. Thank you and enjoy the night away.”

author’s note: hey guys. again, so sorry for deactivating all of a sudden. i know this isn’t much but i hope having a sneak peek into chapter four brought you a bit of joy and excitement. feel free to send me asks regarding burnout and other things. see you in price of freedom next. i’ll be posting it again on tumblr for easy viewing but it’ll also be on hold for the time being. thank you and much love, aika. 

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp Prompt #22: the Respectful Catcall Guy

Have y’all seen the videos of the respectful catcall guy? The one who says stuff like “Hey girl! You look like you file your taxes in a timely manner!”, “Hey Dawg! Your eyebrows look like they are on point bro!”, or “Yo! You look like you know how to fold a fitted sheet!”. So instead of an unpleasant experience with harassment you get a nice complement? Y’all know those guys?

So that but it’s Danny and Tucker (Sam’s camera women) on their summer road trip to visit colleges. No on is safe from compliments, not civilians, not super heroes/vigilantes, not even rouges are safe.

Some of these interactions would include:

“Damn Dude! You look like you contribute equally to household responsibilities!” (To Barry out with Iris and his kids, he laughs proudly and Iris says “Yeah he does!”)

“ Hey Man! You look like you always pull up for you friends!” (To Wally picking up a drunk Dick Grayson, Donna Troy, and Roy Harper after an undercover Titan’s mission gone wrong. He smiles awkwardly while his friends laugh)

“Dang Bro! You look like you’re taking your meds regularly!” (Trickster/James Jesse tv show version, he says “I am!” not questioning how they would know he takes meds)

“Damn ma’am! You look like you love every dog unconditionally!” (To Wonder Woman after she stopped to pet a dog)

“Dang girl! You look like you could bench press your friends! I bet you give great hugs!” (To Cassie Sandsmark at a Core Four hang out. She proudly shows off her guns and Bart yells back that she does give great hugs)

“Wow Girl! You look like you know how to use healthy communication and boundaries in your relationships!” (To Black Canary, she smirks proudly)

“Damn man! You look like drink your respect women juice at breakfast, lunch AND dinner!” (To a Clark Kent treating Lois to lunch)

“ Wow man! You look like you make an effort to be and active and present part of your daughter’s life! (To Deadshot/Floyd Lawton and his daughter Zoe out for dinner)

“ Dang girl! You look you know how to find joy and whimsy in life!”(To Raven, she smiled and appreciated it, but did double take at the amount of extradimensional death magic on these kids which check with them about later)

“Dang sir! You look like you know how to properly season your cooking!” (To Alfred Pennyworth out on a grocery run)

“Damn miss, you look like you make environmentally conscious lifestyle choices!” (this is actually Sam to Poison Ivy, she follows it up with “I’m a big fan of your work”)

“ Damn boy, you seem like you’re super passionate about what you believe in and deeply care about the people you love!” (To a budding, upstart crime lord Red Hood who is shook by positive feelings at this time in his life. They track him down and explain liminality and help him deal with emotions before he does smth too drastic like decapitating ppl *cough cough* But he still becomes a Crime Lord to mess with his family and still have a dramatic reveal)

[on-leatheredwings]

False Pretenses (18+)

Yandere ! Damian Wayne x (Fem) Reader

romantic, 18+ > summary: Damian needs an heir someday, and he knows your body can provide that. > tw/cw: stealthing/baby trapping. there is consensual sex under false pretenses, so this could (and should) make this fall under dub- or non-con! there is also a brief mention of somnophilia. Plus, some breeding kink, praise kink. Also some weird thoughts about (cis) women who are fertile being ‘ideal’ and a preference for biological children. Just a warning. > word count: 5088. jesus christ. > [a/n: (smokes a blunt). ] > again 18+ only, damian wayne is 21

So, Damian has a breeding kink.  

You sit in bed (his bed), knees to your chest, trying not to smile.

The covers are wrapped around your bare body as you recall the night prior’s events. 

Last night was the farthest you two have gone physically. You’ve made out, of course. That was in short order after officially becoming a couple, the both of you starved for the other. You’ve groped each other, both over and under your clothes… You’ve given him a handjob… (To his utter dismay that you’ve brought him to orgasm first rather than the reverse.) And last week, you took him in your mouth for the first time. But yesterday night was the first time you had been on the receiving end. 

Now, you are no virgin, but the memory does make you clutch your metaphorical pearls. You didn’t know simple fingering could be so… perverse.

Damian’s two middle fingers are thrusting back and forth into your trembling cunt. Your ears are steaming at the resulting noises filling the air. They’re lewd, and entirely involuntary on your part. Sweat on your temple drips, your torso heaves with shaken breath. Your damp back lies flush against his hard chest, two perfect puzzle pieces. Damien’s chin rests on your shoulder, allowing him to have a beautiful view of the mess you’re making on his slender digits. Viridian eyes have their entire focus on you, utterly fascinated. 

The look in them is enough to make you blush, even if two of his fingers weren’t in you right now.

Sinful, reverent whispers into the shell of your ear marvel about how well you’re doing, how prepared you’ll be to take him afterwards. Damian’s free hand rests on your abdomen, pointedly over your womb.

He’ll fill you. Breed you. After all, you can handle that. You were basically made for it. He knows you’d be perfect at it.

Chin resting on the palm of your hand, you come back to the present. 

Yeah, that was really turning him on, you mull, with almost academic interest. Your lips curl into a catlike grin. How curious!

Hey, you aren’t judging! You can see the appeal. After all, you hadn’t exactly been complaining last night… just caught off guard. 

You sit with your thoughts as Damian washes up in his restroom. 

It is in his bedroom you currently lounge, absentmindedly fiddling with satin sheets. His bed is large enough to drown in. His room is a wash of dark emerald greens and deep blues, with golden accents. On a table sits a sheathed sword, its grip a beautiful gold.

Both of you are college students finishing up your last semester. During the school season, Damian stays in his penthouse. Yes, his penthouse. Why he couldn’t just stay at his billionaire father’s mansion, you don’t know. Bird has to leave the nest sometime, you suppose. 

Slowly lowering your knees and letting your back hit cool sheets, you lie down. You get lost in the ceiling – a beautiful Arabesque pattern is subtly molded across its expanse. Damian’s culture is so cool. Such was a sentiment you had communicated in such words, and he simply kissed your knuckles with a proud curve of his lips, and thanked you for the compliment. You blush.

Ugh. Damian is so cool. 

You start pulling up every uncool thing about him in your mental reservoir. You can’t have him getting a big head, after all. Or rather, can’t have his head getting any bigger.

Hmm… breeding kinkster, breeding kinkster, thy name is Damian Wayne.

You blink dumbly.

Breeding... breeding…

Pregnancy.

Your body stiffens. 

Wait. Does this… does that mean something? Is that like. A thing? What people call foreshadowing? You sit up, disturbed.

At that exact moment, Damian saunters out of the washroom. His eyes catch yours immediately, as if drawn by magnetism. He is still shirtless, navy blue sweatpants looking entirely artful on his tall, bronze body. His usual shrewd expression relaxes at the sight of you.

At the sight of him, your heart skips a beat, and not out of admiration for his looks. It was like you had been caught red-handed, speculating things. Sometimes you swear he knows what you’re thinking.

He stalks toward you, eyes loving. He places a kiss on your lips, punctuating it with “Good morning, my love.” 

“G-good morning,” you return, painfully aware of your nakedness under his sheets. He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He places kisses on your bare shoulder, trailing down until he’s kissing your hand. While normally you’d be melting, you remain stiff.

Damian pecks one last kiss when you blurt, “Do you want kids?”

You inwardly smack your forehead. Well, you weren’t one to shy away from a tough conversation. For better or worse.

Damian stirs, blinking at you.

You continue, trying not to wilt, “Do… Do you want kids? I-is that something you want? Like, someday?”

How the hell did this not come up sooner, you don’t know.

… Well. 

Perhaps it hadn’t come up because your relationship was fairly new. You’ve known Damian for five years now. And for the last two, your relationship had been under a taxing, soul-sucking ‘will-they-won’t-they-it’s-complicated’ vague denomination for quite a while. Both of you knew each of you had feelings for the other. But Damian confessing his vigilante secret and his assassin past was quite the double whammy. 

Damian was resolute in keeping you and himself safe and alive, but you had to think critically about a future with him. Eventually you said fuck it, throwing caution to the wind because you loved him, and you wanted him. And he, you.

Officially, it’s only been three months of dating – and you both are young. You both are in your last year of college. Talking about kids felt … fast.

Damian remains silent, face tentative. Having been leaning over you, he now sits on his bed, looking thoughtful. 

“... Is that something you want?”

You sigh. Of course he’d turn it on you.

“I…” Your throat feels tight. God, why can’t we just enjoy a damn honeymoon phase… “I mean…? I’m… open to it. But yeah, it seems kinda… Like. I don’t know. That’s a lot right now.” Your voice is uncharacteristically small and meek. 

You should stop there. Keep it vague. Keep things light. But you know which side of the fence you’re leaning on, and so should he.

“A-and you know– like, you know I didn’t have a good relationship with my mother– I just. Don’t know. If ever. I guess?” 

You sit in awkward silence with him. You pray God just decides to smite you where you sit, because Christ. That was horrible.

Things like this could break a relationship, you know. And your chest clenches painfully at the thought of separating from Damian.

Damian takes in your words, nodding. He’s usually so easy to read – you’re well-versed in Wayne-nese by now, having spent a lot of time with him and the rest of his family. But he seems to be withholding his inner thoughts intentionally from you. Your heart sinks. 

You nudge him with your feet.

“Damiii. Do you?”

Damian’s eyes glimmer with characteristic haughtiness, instantly making you warm. He crawls forward, hands sinking into the bed by your hips. He nips at your nose before locking lips. It’s a sweet, sweet kiss that’s like candy, until you feel the stroke of his hot tongue. You moan freely, not caring that he’ll likely tease you later for being so easy.

He retreats, licks his lips. 

“You fiend,” you blurt. The insult rolls off him.

“What I want is to be with you.” You swallow dryly, heart thumping like a chorus line. You wouldn’t be surprised if Damian could see literal hearts in your eyes. 

He puts a hand on your knee, stroking softly. You feel mollified at the action. Damian only did that when everything was alright. 

“We’ve got class. If you get dressed fast enough, I’ll buy you that confectionary you’re always wanting.”

You stick out your tongue. “It’s a frappe,” you say, adding before he could say otherwise, “and yes, it is real coffee.”

Back from class, you decided to read on his living room recliner while he drew in his study. Damian indeed sketched, as he did everyday. Unsurprisingly, you were the subject, along with your favorite flowers. But Damian chose his study, rather than drawing you from life, because he also wanted to check if today was the day he thought it was. He opens the drawer of his wooden desk, papers neatly filed. He picks up a sleek black folder that spends most of its time laid in hiding underneath.

… 

So, for the record, Damian did not lie. 

He merely obfuscated an answer with a truth. 

He does want to be with you above anything, and if children were out of the question due to natural causes… sure, he would learn to get over it. His brothers are all adopted and are as legitimate heirs to his father as he. But as it stands, Damian needs an heir someday and he knows your body can provide that. 

… A not-insignificant part of him quietly admits that he simply wants his children to be blood-related. He’d never express this to anyone. His brothers are adopted, so how could he? But instilled from infancy into Damian was that he was the result of two genetically perfect individuals. 

So why shouldn’t his child be the genetic amalgamation of you and him, both of whom are also two perfect beings? The thought of impregnating you sounds… good. Ideal. Natural, even. Call him a romantic.

When opened, inside the folder is a calendar for the year, with no notes or writing. Some days are blank. Some are highlighted in either red or green.

His eyes skirt down to the current day of the calendar, and Damian's pleased to see it is indeed among a week that's painted in green. You've ovulated, and the six days afterward are an ideal window. 

You've said in passing that your cycle is pleasantly regular and Damian's past investigations have proved this to be true. Not that he asks anymore. He snorts, remembering how last time you looked at him incredulously and asked if he was a Republican, since he was “all up in your womb.” 

However, you do keep menstrual products in your bag when he’s predicted it. You also spend quite some time at his place, so he does note when there’s pad wrappers in his bathroom trash bin.

Last year, the day he knew you were the one – his One – he brewed you a tea before bed. Its sedative contents ensured you wouldn't wake, and you were out like a light within minutes. So, Damian pulled off your pants, and collected a specimen from you as you slept. Of course, he did so with sterile, sexless precision –  Damian wasn’t a pervert or deviant. He sniffs. He’s better than that. Even if his hands did linger.

Test results proved you were healthy and fertile. He recalls this with pride. As expected, you were perfect in all things. Damian closes the folder and ruminates in his seat. 

Damian had assumed so, but now you’ve confirmed with him that you’re unsure about raising children based on your history with your own family. He hears you. As if he doesn’t have his own slew of mommy problems. If you bring it up again, he’ll wave you off. You’ll be an amazing mother. You just need a push, and you’ll be confident soon enough.

His fingers steeple. Hm… There’s the issue of having children before marriage… He doesn’t know how you feel about children outside of wedlock, but it’s not as though you’re very traditional. You don’t seem to have a problem with the fact that’s how he was conceived. It’s not a big concern regardless, because Damian is going to marry you anyway. If it’s an issue, you both could marry in as soon as a month. 

It all works out. 

It’s perfect, he thinks.

Damian puts up his sketchbook and folder alike, heading to his bedroom to change. It was about time he put his plans into action, and he knows just how to usher it into fruition.

“That doesn’t look like a very satisfying read,” Damian says, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. 

You don’t look up from your book, your cringing face only deepening. 

“Well, that’s because it isn’t. I was lied to! By my favorite Youtuber! By BookTok! And fuck it, by the government–”

"My love."

“You ask for one slow burn rivals-to-lovers and instead you get him fawning over her within three chapters–”

“My love,” he repeats, though amused.

“And let’s not even start about how this prose is abysmal–”

“My love.”

Since it was said oh-so-sweetly, you look up from your book. 

Damian is... oh. He's in that outfit he knows you like. The League of Assassins one that's sleeveless, dark, and form fitting with gorgeous gold trim. It turns his body into a marvelous painting of black and gold on the tanned backdrop that is his skin. And you’ve told him so… Except his eyes. His beautiful, intense green eyes. He straightens from how he leans against the wall, stepping closer.

You toss your book, not even watching its trajectory. It takes out a vase on the way down and you still don’t spare it a glance.

"Damian Wayyyyyne," you sing, hopping up to stalk toward your prey. Your hands land on his chest. Hello, tig ol' biddies, you cheer internally. It takes considerable restraint to keep from saying it aloud – you know Damian gets all flustered with his delicate sensibilities. “Why, are you trying to seduce me?”

An elegant, thick brow rises in amusement. Well, that was exceedingly easier than expected.

“That depends entirely on whether it’s working.”

“Oh, it’s working,” you say, running your hands down to his abdomen. His hands rise to capture yours. 

“Tt.” 

Damian takes steps backward, leading you by the hands into his bedroom. Your leer grows even bigger. Oh, yes. You two lock eyes the whole while until you reach the foot of his bed, merriment and attraction dancing in both pairs.

You push him onto the bed, on all fours above him. You dive down for a deep kiss, tongue eager for a dance. Eventually it’s you who separates to breathe, panting lightly. The sight below you is one for sore eyes, Damian Wayne lying with eyes glazed with lust. He’s acting awfully agreeable, and you can’t say you don’t like it.

“Habibti, I want you.” Damian slides his hand to cup your crotch. You shiver, at his touch and his words.

“And you have me,” you say, voice warm. “Habibti.”

He smirks, probably thinking your accent could use some work. 

“It’s Habibi, coming from you.” 

You nod shyly, but you can have a lesson later. You’re about to slip off your pants when he brings your hand in between your bodies, placing it on his crotch. You sharply inhale. He’s hard, and straining against sinful, elastic tights. 

“... And I mean, I want all of you.”

Your brows rise. So, he wanted to go all the way today? You feel your cheeks and crotch flood with heat. You find it easier to nod your head rapidly, lest you start barking. At your agreement, Damian’s face washes over with anticipation. You’re glad it’s not just you over the moon at the prospect.

You both rip your clothes off manically, laughing and elbows butting into each other’s sides. Damian expertly flips positions, boxing you in with his knees. You exclaim in surprise, a sound that drifts into shaky breaths and mewls of pleasure as he runs his fingers over your breasts, your stomach… He wets his fingers with his mouth before his digits start circling your clitoris.

You inhale sharply, mesmerized by the cyclical motion. Never until Damian has sex felt so flustering. Just watching his administrations was overwhelming, let alone the feeling– Your head reels back from an electric shock of pleasure. You gasp into the air.

"W-wait... wait, you have a condom, right…?" you whisper, though you have half a mind to just go without. You need him.

Damian tensed. 

"I... I don't like how it feels." You raise a brow. You've heard condoms can feel like a second skin, especially nowadays. Then again, men were always complaining about them. It's not like you had the necessary equipment to confirm, so hell if you knew how it felt.

You place your hands on his cheeks, and his hands ghost over your wrists. You bite your lip.

"Well… Just this once? And if... it's that important to you, maybe I'll get on birth control–" 

His head jerks as if struck, his brows furrowed.

“No.”

You stare, agape. There’s a small pause, both of you staring at the other. Damian’s face looks as though he’s betrayed himself. Your boyfriend didn’t strike you as so… traditionalist, to say the least. Lord knows you wouldn’t be with him if he was… so you will hear him out before nurturing any suspicion. 

Sitting up on your forearms, you ask, “... What do you mean ‘no’?” 

"I mean… I…” Damian sighs, looking utterly frustrated with himself. “I mean, you don’t need to.” 

You blink and raise a brow, unimpressed. 

“... Because?”

Damian’s jaw hardens. He grits out, “Because, I'm… sterile." 

You flinch, purely from surprise. Damian merely stares, eyes narrowed in what you presume is annoyance at himself. 

Uh. Okay, hello brand new information? Why hadn't this come up before? Well, it is pretty sensitive information. And since you hadn’t had penetrative sex yet, why would he have brought it up? And today was the first day you had even thought about kids. It… makes sense. 

"Y-you are...?" You settle down, much like a cat whose hair is lowering from standing on end. "Okay… okay...” Damian remains stony, but he cringes at your clear relief. 

Mistaking it as embarrassment, you quickly stroke his cheek. “No, baby, I'm sorry about that." You could assume it's quite emasculating. Men and their complexes about performing and wow, suddenly the breeding kink makes sense.

“So, you can’t…” you trail off. Knock me up? remains gracefully unsaid.

Damian nods stiffly. He really does hate lying to you like this. "I've been told it's very... unlikely." In reality, Damian knows his sperm count, and he's verified there should be no issues with reproduction. You both are in peak condition.

Despite the heat raging in your pants and your body begging can we just fuck already, you furrow your brows. All of this sounded fine, but it was still just… you needed specifics. To be safe. After all, there’s no rush, is there? Even if your pulsating cunt would beg to differ, painfully aware that two naked people were in a bed not doing naked-people-things.

"When did you get tested? And w-why? I mean, you're only twenty-one." 

He waves his hand, snorting with his typical condescension. "I'm an heir to a dynasty – as soon as I was of age, it behooved us to know." 

Us. That’s not a you-and-me “us”. You cringe, thinking about Talia and Ra's Al Ghul making it their business to know Damian's fertility. What an invasion of privacy for him… And no wonder he thought nothing of being in your body’s business as well.

"Well, unlikely is still possible, right?” You fear any surprises. Lord knows it would be just your luck to get fertilized by the un-fertilizable. You point at him. “And we should be using condoms anyway! It's not just pregnancy we should be afraid of."

Damian wants to assure you how insanely low the chances are of an infertile male getting anybody pregnant, and is about to do so, when his eyes narrow. 

"Is there a reason we would need to protect against venereal diseases? There are none between the two of us." You flinch at his tone, colored with the acidity of jealousy. Suspicion.

The implication (accusation?) causes you to glare at him. 

“...Yeahhh, okay,” you reply coldly. “Moment's ruined.” 

You push him off you, but in a panic, he hisses your name. You flinch. At your wary expression, the color drains from his face.

“I… I’m sorry,” he says, brows furrowed and looking utterly ashamed. “I… I’m sorry.” You don’t meet his eyes, simply nodding. He places kisses on your wrist, shoulder, nose. Damian sometimes had his moods, although he was truly confusing you today.

“It’s fine, really,” you reassure. And it’s true, it was mainly the heat of the moment. You were sure Damian could never really scare you.

Your words don’t persuade the shame and fear out of his eyes or lighten the heaviness of his brow. You smile, huffing. Taking his face into your heads, you kiss him chastely on the forehead, nose tip, both cheeks. Until you punctuate the action with a kiss to his lips.

“Damian, really.”

Damian nods stiffly. He’ll never truly forgive himself, but he’s probably okay enough for now.

You shift on the bed, and there’s the telltale sensitivity between your thighs. Damn it. You still want him. You two stare at each other, still very naked and aroused. You turn the idea in your head … He’s sterile, right? And pregnancy is your only reservation. 

As if hearing your thoughts, Damian’s face fills with determination. 

“... I-it’s–” okay, let’s have sex anyway, you are going to finish. 

“I’ll do it,” he interrupts. You blink. He leans toward you, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. You’re sure he’s about to kiss you, when he suddenly withdraws. 

Your eyes catch the glimmer of some metallic object. He holds a silver square wrapper in between his fingers, likely plucked from beneath his pillow.

You look at him, and he says frankly, “I’ll do anything for you.” 

You melt… before grinning, catlike. “My, my. So it seems Mr. I-Don’t-Like-Condoms still prepares a contingency plan. Very Son of Batman of you–”

“Shut it,” he groans, dotting kisses along your neck to make you do just that.

You feel relief flood your bloodstream. Then it is quickly replaced with raging desire. Oh, finally. 

“Lay back,” he says, too soft to be an order. You do so without fanfare, a little curious as to why he’s not following you. Then you see him scoot back, feel him hike up your lower half, and you feel a thrill of excitement. 

You squeak, feeling your ass leaving the bed entirely. A pillow is quickly placed underneath, and you are feeling quite pampered.

There’s curious licks along your labia, to which you twitch.

Damian finds his way to your clitoris, suckling and stroking heavily with his tongue.

“Hhnngh,” you speak. Keep going. Right there. 

“Truly, a poet,” Damian’s voice says, muffled. You bite your lip, unable to retort because it feels too good. Damian is curious, experimenting. You know he’s gamifying this, responding and changing his strategies entirely on what draws the most unintelligible noise out of you. He slips his tongue in, and you grasp at his hair. He responds by pumping it back and forth.

Eventually, you do fear he’ll bring you to orgasm with this alone, when you both have more plans for the evening. 

You wipe a layer of sweat from your temple, panting. “I’m ready. I’m ready,” you say, tugging meekly at short black locks.

Damian hums, and the vibration hits you straight in the clit. He sits up on his forearms, lips delightfully messy. His cheeks are ruddy and his brows are pinched with effort, chest heaving for breath. He looks very good like this. 

“I’m ready,” you say again. Damian doesn’t need to be told twice. Your head hits the back of the pillow, and you close your eyes as you catch your breath. You hear the rustling and discarding of a condom wrapper. Damian positions himself accordingly, hands sunk into the bed on either side of your waist.

“Ready?” he asks. His eyes hold… shyness, if you can believe it. You stroke his cheek, grinning. 

“Always ready for you,” you respond. You make sure to sit up. You want to see.

You watch, fascinated, as the head of Damian’s cock slowly disappears into your body. The consonance between seeing it and feeling it only stokes the fire of your arousal. 

You moan openly, the sound making your ears heat. Damian dares to chuckle, and you claw his back in retaliation. 

“Oh, shut up, and go deeper,” you breathe, eyes fluttering with pleasure. You didn’t realize how much you missed this. The feeling of being filled, of being full. You didn’t realize you could miss something you never had as well – Damian felt like he belonged in you. You feel every inch of you work to accommodate his sudden presence.

“And how can I deny such a request?” he gasps aloud, voice strained. 

You feel more than a little pride that you were among the few who could make Damian bend to your whims with this (or any) level of subservience. The proud, proud Damian Wayne. The same Damian that sinks into you further, into your tight, hot wetness. He finally bottoms out and you exhale.

“You’re… a perfect… fit,” you say, dazed and in between pants.

Little do you know the resulting pang that shoots into his groin at that statement. He grasps you harder, maybe even enough to bruise. He needs you badly. He needs to fill you badly.

Damian leans even more forward, and you squeal. You’re just along for the ride at this point. He does all the necessary machinations to fold you in half, thighs bending back.

"W-wait," you stutter, but it falls on deaf ears. 

He’s really stretching the limits of your flexibility here. Before you know it, you’re in a mating press. 

“Damian,” you moan, because you’re too overstimulated to say much else.

“You’re perfect,” he says into the shell of your ear. “You can take this. You were made for this.” You nod, slack-jawed. He rocks into you, skin slapping against skin as your pelvises meet. Your eyes flutter and roll back.

“I could spend forever filling you up. I could spend forever watching it spill out of you.” 

You close your eyes, cheeks aflame, much too embarrassed by his perverse whispers. You feel … almost ashamed at how much it arouses you. Almost. Majorly, it’s fulfilling a dark fantasy you didn’t know you liked.

“... Come inside me,” you breathe, unable to say anything more. You were embarrassed enough. He was using a condom, it was assumed he would be. But hopefully he’d see you were participating in his little fantasy, that you liked it too…

His thrusts are unyielding, and they only get harder, faster, more desperate as the time passes. Damian finishes with a groan, his abs clenching and flexing with effort.

You welcome it, taking it all because he’s right, you were made for this. In this moment, it’s like you were entirely made for this.

To your surprise, there’s sudden stroking on your throbbing clit, and that brings you to the finish line as well.

Your head jerks back violently, body snapping to attention as you ride the wave of an orgasm. A gasp by your ear. You’re clenching around Damian’s length, wringing him dry.

He collapses, narrowly keeping himself from squashing you flat. The two of you are a tangle of sweaty limbs, chests heaving.

“You’ve got to get out of me sometime,” you tease.

You’ve both been lying like this, too taxed to move for maybe ten minutes now. 

“Is that so? Honestly, I could die here without complaint,” Damian says, and you get the feeling he’s dead serious. Nevertheless, he rolls away. He does not let you go far, wrapping his arms around you. You shiver at the feeling of him unsheathing himself, suddenly feeling empty.

… And wet. Wetter than expected.

You keep from flushing. Damn, you were really enamored with him, it seems.

You rub your thighs together, relishing in the feeling. Until you pause.

… No, like, you’re really wet. 

You slowly sit up, investigating. To your surprise, you’re leaking… cum. And clearly not just your own. It’s smattered down your thighs, sticky. When you pause and can literally feel the cum drip out of you, you exclaim.

“Fuck… fuck.” You put a hand to your dripping cunt, and are surprised when it indeed comes back wet and pearlescent white. It’s for real. 

“What’s wrong?” you hear, but you hardly register it.

You pull at a scrap of wrinkled plastic, pulling it out. The condom is shredded. It broke. 

“Damian. It broke.”

You stare at it dumbly. It broke. You feel the onset of fear creep by… it’s held at bay, when you feel Damian hushing you, stroking your shoulders.

Damian holds you, asks why are you worrying…? He told you there’s no way. He can’t, he’s sterile. 

You dumbly nod, combating fear by reasoning with yourself. Well… you were about to have sex without it anyway, after all. What does it matter if the condom broke? 

You suppose it’s just the shock of a failsafe… well, failing to save you. So why do you feel so disconcerted? What’s this niggling feeling, you wonder. You stare at your inner thighs. His cum paints you like a mark.

“It’s nigh impossible,” Damian states. He’s doing what he does best – nullifying your emotions with facts. He pulls you back into his arms, your back against his chest. “The condom was really for your peace of mind. It’s not like it did anything.”

You don’t speak, simply staring at the condom in your hand. You nod. 

“Really, there’s no point in wearing condoms from now on anyway. They break.” 

Damian’s fingers trace circles on the bone of your shoulders. “I mean, they’re practically pointless. And either way–”

With his long reach, he grabs his phone off the nightstand. He pulls up an article, illustrating the likelihood of him successfully inseminating you. 

“See?” he says. “It’s not a factor.”

Unwilling to let whatever strange funk you’ve entered ruin the afterglow of your orgasm, you nod again. You turn your head halfway, smiling. Of course, without missing a beat, Damian kisses you sweetly. 

To hell with the condom. And to hell with getting stuck in your head. Lord knows you overthink everything. It’s as Damian says. 

His fingers dance on your abdomen, and it tickles. 

It’s impossible.

[twiisted-king]

⊙ THE SPOT BF HC’s ⊙

➟ The Spot / Jonathan Ohnn X GN!Reader 🕳️

➟ NSFW / SFW ( he has such raw sex appeal )

➟ TW : Insecurities, Workplace Abuse, Body Image, SEX, & Murder :)

————————————————————————

⊙ PRE-COLLIDER

— Jonathan is PAINFULLY average.

— Sure his colleagues like him and he has a good standing with his superiors, But he just doesn’t have a lot going for him.

— Which is why he wonders why an angel like you loves him so much.

— He enjoys the domesticity of y’all’s relationship when he isn’t stuck at the lab or doing scientific research. Like make the man a nice home cooked meal and take a shower with him, it makes him happy beyond belief.

— He has quips. Jonathan just loves making you laugh and he’s actually pretty good at laughing at himself whenever he does something stupid. He knows you won’t judge him.

— Kind of obsessed? Besides work, you are all he thinks about and focuses on. He has plans for the future of your relationship ( MARRIAGE ).

— He’s the type of person to keep a picture of you on his desk.

— Adding onto the obsessed part, he can be possessive. I feel like that’s a given with him.

— Jonathan is insecure. He knows that there are a lot of more attractive, cooler people out there and he worries that he’ll fuck up one day and you’ll leave him. Please comfort him.

— Arguments are few and far between. He’s good at resolving whatever issues that may come up with good ol’ communication.

— He keeps you as far away from his work life as possible. He NEVER EVER wants you to get caught up in the messes that are his projects and he knows just how dangerous working with physics is. Plus Wilson Fisk might use you as leverage to get Jonathan to do what he wants.

— sex time boys :)

— You wanna have sex .. WITH HIM!? That’s kind of his instant reaction though he isn’t opposed.

— I don’t think he’s a virgin, But he’s not the most experienced. He might’ve had a few partners in college though that’s about it. I’m sure he had a few admirers at Alchemax though he was far too busy with working to care plus he had you.

— I don’t think he has a preference for who is dominant and submissive. If you want to edge him until he cries that’s cool! But he’s also chill with taking the lead and fucking you into submission.

— This man is PACKIN’. You can disagree with me all you want, But it’s always the dorky ones that have the most dick. He probably thought that he wasn’t big since he’s since all of these videos talking about how “ 6 inches isn’t big enough yadi yada “. So he was incredibly nervous taking his pants off the first time and he just sorta held his breath, waiting for a reaction of disappointment. He ended up being pleasantly surprised in the end of and was more than happy to shove his dick down your throat.

— His dick is skinnier than it is thick. Poor dude has an INCREDIBLY sensitive head and a prominent vein running up the underside of his shaft.

— Prefers positions where he can see your face. He thinks eyes are the windows to the soul and being able to focus on your expressions makes sex 100X more enjoyable.

— SIT ON THIS MANS FACE. Force him to take all of you inside his mouth and then ride his nose until you’re seeing stars.

— Jonathan let’s out the pathetic noises. He’ll whine, whimper, moan, etc.

————————————————————————

⊙ POST-COLLIDER

— honey, you’ve got a big storm comin’

— He becomes almost 1,000X more clingy and loving.

— He’s absolutely horrified at what happened to him and feels like he’s a burden to you now. He can’t even kiss you for god’s sake!

— Spot will get steal gifts for you in an effort to make up for having to date an idiot like him. He’s much more withdrawn and silent though he’s still prone to using humor as a coping skill.

— Once he realizes that you aren’t going to leave him is probably when he resorts to crime. He would never leave you as the main breadwinner no matter how much you can provide for y’all and will do whatever he can to make sure you are well cared for.

— He’ll never allow you to go out with him when he’s committing crimes. If you were to get hurt or worse ( ahem die ) he would probably never forgive himself.

— You are now his world and he must protect his world at all cost.

— He’s become even more obsessed with your face now that he doesn’t have a proper one. Kissing is a little awkward, But he still appreciates that you’re willing to be affectionate with him.

— You can be curious about his spots, But don’t expect him to let you go through one. It’s already difficult enough for him to control them and he doesn’t want to send you to a whole other universe.

— He has become much more confident as The Spot. He’ll make big risky choices and no longer wants to be a doormat. Arguments are still uncommon though he isn’t afraid to defend the crimes he commits because at the end of the day it’s all for you.

— Being a interdimensional criminal isn’t the most ideal job, But it all comes back to his love for you and don’t ever forget that.

— Has told you to “ Come check out his hole “ a couple of times whenever he figures out his powers, he is definitely aware of how dirty he makes it sound.

— time to get down and dirty in Jonathan’s holes :)

— For starters, he didn’t LOSE his dick it’s just kind of chilling in a void pocket. Go read Spotless on AO3, The Spot actually has a dick in that fic in a way that makes sense.

— He’s grateful you still want to be intimate with him. He can be a little awkward sometimes though he makes up for it.

— Becoming a supervillain has made this man an absolutely menace in bed. He’ll overstimulate and edge you to make sure you remember he isn’t just some lowlife scientist anymore.

— Jonathan’s rougher and manhandles you, forcing you into whatever position he wants.

— It’s a little silly if you imagine it with his regular voice ngl, BUT THE MEAN VOICE? oh my god.

— Repeats phrases like “ mine “ whenever he fucks you and let’s out this raspy little laugh whenever you tell him it’s too much.

— It’s a little pointless for you to pleasure him now so he solely focuses on you. Plus it’s a way for him to blow off steam after a fight with Miles.

— Could you have sex with one of his holes? Does he even feel pleasure anymore? I have many questions that I will ignore for the sake of fanfiction.

— Imagine getting choked by this dude?

— This motherfucker definitely still whimpers though as The Spot and you can’t tell me otherwise.

[lovdlydaz]

❝ TOUCH ME WHERE YOU NEED TO, I CAN GIVE YOU MORE. ❞

loser!choi soobin x black!afab!reader

poor soobin, always been tortured and bullied at school just for being different and caring about his grades. but, need not worry, as you, his lovely best friend, show him things he would only ever dream about.

warnings: virgin!soobin, pervy!soobin, switch!reader, subby soobie, p in v, unprotected sex, m!masturbation, butt loads of praise, little tidbits of degradation, pet names, mommy kink, big dick soobin, js soobin being a little wimp enjoy

a/n: sorry for being so absent y'all, a lot has happened over these past months and i've been on and off in this community. i will try my hardest to get back in full swing since it is summer for me, but it isn't a promised guarantee. however, i will be writing more content for both k-pop and anime, since both are very prevalent in my headspace rn. but subby stupid loser soobin has been rotting in my mind for so long i just had to write about it, so please enjoy this as much as i most definitely did. love y'all, enjoy!!

it was never a quiet day in soobin's life, having to deal with all sorts of things from his work being shoved off his desk to food being thrown at him during lunch hours. this was his senior year of college and, by now, these childish adults should be over this phase right? but, sadly, since he had told people that he thought were his friends that he hadn't been laid ever in his life, they told the entire school and now every person that he comes in contact with either tries to seduce him or make fun of him because of this fact.

but not you, you were different.

soobin had always taken a liking to you, being his roommate and the one person that he could be himself with. he didn't have to make up a persona or have to be this way in order to be accepted, no, you liked and had in common some stuff that he liked, like anime and DnD. he was more than grateful that you didn't torment him like half of the school did, and that you were a pure soul that could do no wrong.

he followed you like a puppy ever since you two met, which you didn't mind but it sort of gave you scary dog privileges. every time you went to the store, he was right besides you with his headphones around his neck and hands in his pockets. no guys would try to mess with you since your 6'1 guy best friend looked like he could kill someone, but he would never.

he would wander off in parts of the store and come back with different manga/funko pops he would find of his favorite anime characters, begging you to buy them for him since he didn't have a stable job nor stable money. you were kind enough to buy it for him and watch him add it to his collection of funko pops on his shelf filled with manga and figurines and all sorts of other things. you watched as he happily organized his collection, giggling like a little girl as he stacked jujutsu kaisen volumes together like a jenga puzzle.

everything he did, you found adorable and innocent. however, he was far from it.

while you were asleep, he would crawl into your room and go through your dirty laundry, grabbing your freshly used underwear and crawling back to his room with them. he would hold them until his nose as he jerked off, moaning your name as he orgasmed right on them. of course he would wash them and put them back in your drawer without you noticing, but you never seemed to wake up despite all of that.

soobin never felt guilty about it either, since that was the closest thing to sex that he would ever get, that he thought of.

one day, you two were walking to the mall, your hair bouncing with your steps due to your letting your curls out in a controlled afro. he watched your smaller form move with your little pink skirt with your pink clothes and nice pink accessories. you had a bit of a bimbo aesthetic, not really so but you dressed in girly colors and girly clothes, never giving a care in the world what others had to say.

you were going to the store to go to a store that soobin specifically wanted to go to. it was a clothing store that also had some mangas in the back of them, but this time he didn't go for the mangas. instead, he wanted to go to the men's section to see what clothes he could get, since he had been wearing the same 5 hoodies ever since his freshman year. you went over with him of course, since you had fashion sense that he had no clue of what that even meant.

he looked at a shirt that had some cool little cartoon designs on it, along with some baggy jeans that had stars on them. he turned to you and held them out, your eyes lighting up and nodding at him for approval. "yes soobie! that fit is so hard," you giggled, soobin smiling at your excitement but he was heading to the changing room. you followed behind him, watching him as he went into the men's room.

he came out in the outfit and it looked so good on him, a little too good in fact. it had your eyes raise in shock and you biting your lip, his whole aesthetic was coming together nicely and it had you feeling things you thought you wouldn't feel for a while. especially for your best friend since freshman year, which was probably why and how these feelings developed overtime.

you chewed your lip as he walked up to you, holding his arms out and looking down at you. "you really do like it?" he asked, pushing his hair out of his face so he could see your face better. "y... yes! yes i do like it choi. it looks really good on you," you softly spoke, making him raise an eyebrow in confusion but he didn't think much of it. he just shrugged and went back to the changing room, getting his regular clothes on and taking the store clothes off.

after that, the whole day was filled with soobin using pinterest as his inspiration to find the coolest outfits that fit his aesthetic. you were happy he was finally starting to gain some confidence in his clothes, the outfits getting from baggy to tight to baggier to tighter. he had a good body so each outfit fit him perfectly, and you enjoyed the tighter outfits better than the baggy ones.

it was starting to get dark outside, so that was when you decided it was time to leave. you grabbed all of your shopping bags (you and soobin's), before the taller man stopped you. "oh y/n, you don't have to carry all the bags. let me do it," and he did. he grabbed all the bags out of your hands with no struggle, walking them to your car and putting them in the back. you smiled and followed after him, loving how kind he was towards you.

it was a nice drive home and you were enjoying his company, even though he was yapping to you about the newest episode of mha that had just came out that day. he had watched it before you two had left and it was plaguing his mind the whole time. he was so excited about it, even though he had the entire manga on his bookshelf that he read about 10 times in the span of 2 years. you didn't mind it however, since he was so cute when he was excited.

once you two got back to the dorms he took all the bags up the stairs and into your shared rooms, you right behind him and opening the door for him since his hands were very full. he walked in and dropped the bags down on the couch, turning around to see you closing the door behind him and locking it. he smiled as he made his way over to the kitchen, immediately going to the fridge since he was a bit hungry from all the escapades you both had went on.

you had decided to cook for the evening, letting him have time to grab all the bags and put them in your respective rooms. he realized how much you really spent on him and yourself, and he was just wondering how in the hell you had so much money. but, then he remembered that you did have a super rich family, and you were very smart so the school was paying you on a full academic scholarship. he was more than grateful though, so he would do something in order to make it up to you.

he would just have to think about it.

even though soobin was a loser and unemployed, he promised that he would still try to get you something special. just because you were his best friend didn't mean that he couldn't treat you nicely. so, he went to a store that you absolutely loved, a makeup store at that, and bought an item that you had wanted but it was out of stock when you both had went the other day. he also purchased a little bag with some stuffing paper, making it a nice little gift with a card inside.

he set it down on your bed when you were at class, since he didn't have class today. and since he didn't have class, he was going to cook for when you got home.

it took a lot of trials and tribulations in order to make a meal that he assumed would remind you of your home back in america, so it was a standard american meal. chicken tenders with fries and some fruit punch on the side. he made the chicken tenders from scratch and used some seasonings that you had brought from your home back there to use in the food. he knew that you were going to love this, and he was all the way right.

as soon as you got home your nose was hit with the wonderful scent of very good food in the kitchen, a smile on your face as you walked over to where the scent was originating from. you were pleasantly surprised to see choi soobin in the kitchen, wearing a tank top and shorts while cooking some more fries. you couldn't hold back your gratitude, going up to him and hugging him tightly.

"thanks soobie! you're the greatest person in the entire world," you beamed, making him 1. blush, 2. stutter over his words and 3. involuntarily gain a massive boner from the hug. he was very thankful for the baggy shorts however, and how he had tucked his cock in his pants to where it was barely noticeable. you did notice though, but you didn't speak about it.

the dinner was filled with laughter and gossip, you telling him about your girl drama while he ranted to you about his gaming prowess. it was a great dinner, and you were both very tuckered out by the time the sun fell.

going to your room you went to grab some clothes, putting your freshly done braids in your bonnet before going to the bathroom and closing the door. that gave soobin the advantage of going into your room and laying on your pillow. he could smell every bit of you, every single scent that lingered on you today was on the pillow and god did it make him hard as a rock.

he palmed himself through his shorts, groaning soft chants of your name and getting so caught up in it that he hadn't realized the shower had cut off, and you were now watching him with a towel wrapped around your body.

his glasses were fallen off his face at this point, tilted as he softly whimpered praise about how you smelled and how pretty you looked. he was so desperate for you that he couldn't stop himself from imagining how your pussy felt, how it smelled, how it tasted, everything about it. he wanted you so badly but he was too much of a pussy to ask you out, and too scared to lose the friendship that he had worked so hard to maintain.

you were his only friend, he couldn't lose one of the only people that understood how he was and why he was this way. he couldn't lose you, so that's why he only fantasized about you.

so, when he finally came back from his imagination his eyes traveled everywhere until they were met with yours. he jumped so hard he tumbled off the bed, quickly getting up and going to leave before you stopped him, despite you being much shorter and weaker than he was. he still let you stop him by standing in his way, giving him a fake disgusted expression even though you were dripping on your thighs right now.

"soobin, what the fuck?" you spat, making the pale boy look down in shame and fear. he knew that he was going to fuck this up, so small tears came into his eyes as the realization of what he had done and the punishment for it finally crawled into his mind. "y/n i— i'm so sorry... i'll leave if you want i... i'm sorry." he mumbled softly, trying to push past you but you didn't let him.

your hand traveled to his chin and you tilted it up, forcing him to look down at you, but in the eyes this time. you didn't say anything, but you just wiped his tears away and smiled sweetly at him. "soobie... don't cry. i'm not mad or disgusted at all, i'm just a little shocked is all," you admitted sincerely, making him raise an eyebrow in confusion. "why are you shocked?" he asked, making you chew on your lip and remove your hands from his face.

"well... i mean, this is one of the first times i've had a guy come into my room and sniff my pillows while moaning my name. so who wouldn't be a little shocked in this situation?" you giggled, making him loosen up a little bit. "yeah... you're right. so... you're not mad at all?" he softly questioned, making you shake your head. "no choi, i'm not mad at all," you reiterated, making him smile brightly at that.

however, you were pretty desperate as well, soaking between your legs and you were still very much naked underneath the towel. soobin also noticed how your voluptuous breasts were starting to poke through the towel, making them a lot more perky than he would normally see them. he could feel his cock throb at that, him gulping a little to keep the saliva from crawling out of his mouth. "though..." you trailed off, making him snap back to reality and realize that he was basically staring dead at your chest.

"it was pretty hot seeing you like that honestly... i know you've never had sex or a girlfriend before, so... i want to ask something of you," you got closer to him, standing on your tippy toes to try to be even with the man's face. "can i be your first?" you asked, not making a move until he said something. he lost his breath as soon as you asked that, mouth dry and heart threatening to pump straight out of his chest because of that revelation.

he needed a second to come down from cloud nine in order to answer you, so you let him. after a second though he nodded his head, you leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. his eyes widened in shock, he had never kissed a girl before, and this was like heaven on earth. he was so happy to be tasting your lips as his first time, and... you would be his first time for everything.

despite his avid use of the orange and black website that most pre-teens to bitchless adults go to for entertainment, he didn't have a fucking clue of what the hell he was doing. he just knew that you weren't letting go of the kiss, so he wouldn't either. that was until you did pull away, which had him chasing your lips desperately because he didn't want to let them go. he just wanted to be near you and be all over you, which he would in a while.

you giggled and got off your tippy toes, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the bed. you put yourself on the bed and laid down, beckoning him to come over to you. he did so in an instant, he was so obedient and it was turning you on even more. you grabbed his face and started to kiss him deeper, having him on top of you made this even better since you could feel all of him all over your body and feel the way he squirmed under your touch.

you could tell that he was very nervous, the way he couldn't even touch your body and how stiff he was in the kiss was a tell-tale sign of it all. so, you pulled away (much to his dismay) and placed a hand on his chubby bunny cheeks. "soobie, you don't have to be so tense with me. i know this is your first time being intimate with someone, but you have to trust me, okay baby?" you spoke in a compassionate tone, the pet name just slipping out. he obviously didn't object to that but it seriously caught him off guard, which made his cheeks redden with a small nod.

you smiled softly at him before sitting up, gently pushing him down so now his head was at the edge of your bed. you took the towel and sat up on your knees, slowly removing it and exposing your naked beautiful body. well, he saw it as beautiful, even though you had some chub around your hips and thighs, but he didn't mind that. in fact, it seemed to turn him on more. he saw every aspect of you as a goddess in his mind, a person who could do absolutely no wrong. he was so in love with you, and he was very happy that he was able to get his virginity taken by someone like you.

once the towel was off you threw it to the ground, crawling towards soobin and straddling his hips. you leaned down and started to softly kiss his neck, causing him to let out a shocked noise at the sudden feeling of your plump lips on his sensitive neck. quite frankly, everywhere on him was sensitive, despite how many sessions him and his right hand had late at night. maybe because it was you, he wasn't quite sure. he just wanted this feeling to continue.

you trailed your lips down to his covered chest, looking at him and basically asking with your eyes if you could take off his tank top. "can i?" which was followed by an immediate "yes mommy," which had you a little taken aback. once he realized what he had just said he sat up quick, knocking you back a little and forcing your ass straight onto his clothes cock. he bit back a groan as small tears gathered in his eyes, covering his face and hiding it with his large ass hands.

" 'm sorry y/n— i-i didn't mean to say that it just— it just slipped out," he was basically pleading with you not to leave, he wanted to lose his virginity to you, he wanted you to take him however you wanted him to. he was about to cry when you just chuckled and kissed his cheek, making him flush harder. "choi, it's okay. you don't have to be so scared to try things with me. if i don't like it, i'll tell you. if i do like it, then i'll also tell you. and i quite frankly love that name. you can keep calling me that if you're comfortable with it, because i sure am," you told him, making him nod his head and softly smile at you. "okay... mommy."

now that that was out of the way, you went to go remove his top and he let you, holding his arms up and the top coming straight off. he then decided to slip off his shorts and boxers, leaving you both completely naked under each other's gaze. he was so beautiful, sleeper-ish build with silky smooth skin that you wanted to ruin. he was so perfect... god he would be the perfect man.

your lips connected again and this time soobin immediately melted into it, relaxing himself as you went back to straddle his lap. your ass was right on his cock, softly rubbing against just to see how his face scrunched up with pleasure in the kiss, swallowing up all his sounds. he loved this, this was everything he could've ever dreamed of. he was about the fuck the girl of his dreams, the reality hitting him like a pleasant surprise. he couldn't hold back the dripping of pre-cum that was all over your ass by now, making him even more embarrassed than he was before. however, you thought it was hot, and you wanted him to cum deep inside you.

this time, he was the one to pull away, panting softly as he looked at you with those bright eyes of his. "please... m-mommy just— just use me, i need it so bad," he begged you with such a whiny voice, god it had you throbbing so hard. you both were needy for each other and it showed with every action you two made towards each other. so, you didn't keep him waiting for long.

"of course baby," you cooed, biting your lip before starting to get yourself situated. you put your hands on his shoulders and stood up on your knees, guiding yourself to be right above his aching cock. he gulped as you started to sink down on his ridiculously big cock. seriously, how in the hell did he keep such a monster like this in his pants? you struggled a little as you tried to sink down, realizing that you would need soobin's help in order to fully go down.

though, when you looked to ask him for help the man was so far good, eyes in a daze and mouth open and panting heavily. he looked hot as shit but you needed his assistance in trying to get yourself fully around his cock, so you put a hand on his cheek even with your trembling hand. "binnie... c—can you please help me? you're... way too big—" you strained out, feeling the pain starting to kick in despite your wetness. this man was fucking huge and he didn't even know it, but he would help you at any means necessary.

so, he grabbed your hips and, with a little jerk of his arms, slammed you right onto his cock. this motion caused you and him to both moan out in pleasure, you arching your back and soobin's eyes rolling to the back of his head. after you both came down you started to slowly move your hips, your wetness covering his area so sloppily it was exactly like a porn video. he was mesmerized by your body and how fluidly you could move, he was in a trance by your hips. so much so that he involuntarily thrusted his hips upwards, causing you to moan out in pleasure but causing him to quickly stop your hips, confusing you.

"w— what's wrong bin?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady but you were already close to your orgasm. "that didn't hurt? what i just did?" he asked, which just made you softly giggle. "no soobin, it didn't hurt at all. please do it again," you pleaded, making something in the man switch by your begging.

he grabbed you and slammed you onto the bed, pulling your hips forward and ramming deep inside you. meanwhile he had no clue what the hell he was doing, he was just trying to follow what porn had taught him. although, he could tell that you were enjoying it by the way your noises increased in volume, how more fidgety you were because of the immense amount of pleasure he was giving you. so, he continued with his unorganized pace, still moaning alongside you as he did so.

"b-bin— fuck baby 'm's'close—" you whined, making him speed up a little as well. "f-fuck... me too mommy, m-me too—" he whimpered alongside you, you pulling him down for a steamy wet kiss. this instantly had the man's hips stuttering, shoving himself as deep as he could right into your g-spot, his cum flowing against it which had you clenching around him as well. your noises were equally swallowed by each other, this being the most intense orgasm both of you have had in your lives.

after a few minutes you both came down from your highs, you looking at the man above you who was a wreck. his glasses were basically off of his face now, lips red and swollen from your kissing, pupils blown and dazed with a red face to top it all off. he was so sexy, but he was on the verge of passing out. so were you, since that orgasm took a lot out of you. so, you both decided it would be nice to just lay next to each other, but not before deciding something.

"u-uhm... y/n?" choi chirped, making you turn your head in his direction. "hm?" "what... are we now?" he sheepishly pondered, you reaching a hand out and massaging his face. "boyfriend and girlfriend silly," you smiled softly, while he grinned brightly. "really?" "mhm. now goodnight baby, see you in the morning." your drowsy voice stated before he held you in his arms, you easily falling asleep. however, he couldn't sleep, because his mind was racing with so many things that sleep didn't come until the early morning.

which wasn't a problem, since you both slept until 1pm that day.

© gg 2023. dividers were made by me. do not steal, use, or repost my work without my consent. reblogging/interaction is welcomed.

[1-800-hwahui]

match of the season

member — college student radio host!junhui x f student!reader genre  —  smut, fluff, humor word count — 7.3k warnings — virgin!jun, shy clueless jun, fr that man does not know a single thing but it's endearing in a silly way, top!reader bot!jun (but no real dom/sub dynamics, more like reader leads until jun figures out how to take over), unprotected sex, jun big cock agenda, VOICE KINK (listen. you all knew it was coming), so much dirty talk, lots of consent bc it is very sexy, riding, little bit of dry humping?, mentions of an iud/birth control, jun is implied taller than reader (maybe size kink but only if you take it that way), jeonghan cameo and he's a menace, lots of fluff at the end (but also kinda throughout), please lmk if i missed any warnings! notes — this is a nsfw sequel to a sfw fic on my main writing blog @junekissed called sounds of the season, which is part of my series of winter-themed fics! if you haven't already, i would highly recommend reading that before reading this, since the stories are pretty closely connected. thanks to @onlymingyus for reading over this for me <3 i hope you all enjoy this as much as you enjoyed the first part. also like i said in part 1 i have no idea how radio works so if it doesn't make sense just roll with it lmao

you’re just putting the last finishing touches on your final paper when your phone buzzes. you glance down, grinning when you see junhui’s name on the screen.

unable to hide the butterflies in your stomach, you press a button to accept the call. “hi, junnie.”

“oh! hi,” his voice plays through your speaker with a giggle. “hey, i like that. ‘junnie’. do you want a nickname? but your name is so pretty, i don’t wanna change it–”

“whatever you want is fine,” you say, trying to hold back a smile. god, he’s cute.

“okay. i’ll think about it. oh, wait, yeah!” he says suddenly, as if he’s just remembered why he’s calling. “jeonghan left town early this week so it’s just me in the studio today, and it’s our last show of the semester. so anyway, do you wanna come over?” he stops, stumbling over his words. “well, not like, come over come over, i mean, we can just hang out, i–”

“give me half an hour,” you laugh, endeared by his eagerness.

“yay!” he cheers, and you shake your head with a smile.

half an hour later, a text pops up on jun’s phone, alerting him that you’re waiting outside the building. he leaps out of his chair, an excited grin on his face as he flings open the door and dashes downstairs to let you in.

he’s out of breath by the time he reaches the communications lab door, leaning on the push bar to let you in. “sorry, forgot they locked it already,” he pants.

“it’s fine,” you giggle. “so… everyone else is gone?”

he nods. “yeah, mr. choi said as long as i don’t mess with anything he’ll let me close by myself, so they all left early for break.”

you smile and hold out your hand for him to take, and he beams, hastily grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers with yours.

he leads you up the stairs to the sound booth, squeezing your hand the whole way.

it’s your second time being in the school’s recording studio, but the feeling is still new and exciting. you definitely understand now what jun meant when he said being around all the equipment is a lot of fun.

once inside, he shuts the heavy door with a click, locking the door and flipping on the “on air” light. not that anyone could get in anyway, but it’s a habit he doesn’t want to accidentally get out of before he comes back next semester.

he slides in front of the computer for a second, queueing another song so he has more time to grab what he’s designated as “your chair”; the comfiest one in the studio, according to him.

he pulls it over next to his chair and pats the cushion for you to sit. you giggle and plop down on the seat, scooching closer to him once he’s sat in his own chair.

he raises his eyebrows at you with a grin, then clears his throat and moves closer to the microphone as the song ends to do his job.

ever since you accidentally admitted to him that you like the way his voice sounds, he’s teased you about it—or at least, attempted to tease you about it. he's too sweet for his own good, so even when he tries to poke fun at you it comes out like a compliment.

he presses the red button and begins to talk. “that was one of the classics, ‘a holly jolly christmas’ by burl ives. coming up next, another favorite, ‘the christmas song’ by michael bublé, and more great songs on your favorite program: 111.7fm’s sounds of the season.”

he lets go of the button and sits back in his chair, spinning it around to face you as the slow music starts softly playing. “hi,” he says shyly. “did you like that?”

you smile. it’s a little bit of an odd question, but you’ve started to understand his awkwardness; he just needs a little encouragement. “i always like it. you’re really good at this.”

“i like it a lot,” he grins back, bouncing his head in excitement. “can i kiss you now?”

you laugh at his enthusiasm but nod, leaning forward to press your lips to his. he sighs into your mouth, his hands falling naturally to your waist. for supposedly not going out much, jun is really, really good at kissing, you’ve quickly learned over the last few days. how he got so good at it, you may never know, but the feeling of him pressed against you is too perfect to waste time questioning why.

despite being surrounded by the cold, metal recording equipment, the sound of michael bublé’s crooning voice and the gentle warmth of junhui’s lips makes the studio feel like the coziest place on earth.

his hands tug at your waist and you slide easily out of your chair and onto his lap, sitting sideways across his legs, never breaking the kiss.

he pulls away for a second, his cheeks dusted with pink. “let me… put the playlist on,” he says, his voice a little breathier than usual. 

you hum in confusion, attention still focused on the curve of his lips and the little noises he makes when he’s kissing you. “what playlist?”

he laughs. “for the show. so we can keep doing… this, and not have to worry.”

“wait, so you mean, not all of it is live?”

he shakes his head. “almost all of it is, but there’s a backup playlist in case we get busy and can’t sit around pressing buttons for the whole hour. i used it a couple weeks ago when i had to finish my chem paper.”

he spins the chair around, facing you both in front of the computer screen and tapping a few buttons on the keyboard. he turns a dial on the soundboard and the background music in the studio gets lower, so quiet you need to strain to hear it.

he hums, and your attention turns away from the machinery and back to his eager smile.

“can i kiss you again?” he asks softly.

you giggle and put your hands around his neck. “you don’t have to ask every time.”

so he’s pushing his lips on yours again, kissing you like you’re the most delicate thing in the world.

and that’s when you feel it. the butterflies deep in your stomach that make you want to do things no person should be doing in a school building.

he pulls away for a second to catch his breath. “you’re so pretty,” he says dreamily, and you hate the way it immediately sends shivers down your spine, landing directly at your core. 

you hold back a whimper and shift the way you’re sitting, moving so each leg is on either side of his legs, straddling his lap.

he pushes his mouth against yours, hands gently kneading your hips. your fingers dance beneath the bottom of his shirt, fingernails gliding over the warm, soft skin of his stomach and feeling his abs contract at your touch.

“wait,” he whimpers, and you pull back immediately, taking your hands off of him and putting them on your thighs.

“do you want me to stop?” you ask quietly. shit, you hope you haven’t completely ruined this by going too fast.

“no!” he nearly shouts, looking panicked, then clears his throat. “no,” he repeats. “i don’t want you to stop. i’m, just…” he trails off, avoiding your gaze.

“you can tell me, junnie,” you say gingerly, wanting him to be comfortable.

“i know,” he whines. “i’m… embarrassed,” he says, voice small.

“i’m not going to laugh at you,” you say softly.

“i’m not– i haven’t–” he freezes. you give him a small smile that you hope looks encouraging, and it must be, because he sighs and starts again. “i’m a… virgin,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“oh! that’s all?” you ask, taking his hand and threading your fingers in between his. he looks up at you, trying (and failing) to hide the surprise in his expression. “you don’t need to be embarrassed. everybody has a first time.”

you pause, not wanting to force him into doing this if he really isn’t ready. you don’t care, you have plenty of ways of getting yourself off if he wants to wait longer. because you are willing to wait. “we don’t have to now, junnie,” you say. “i’ll wait as long as you want me to.”

“i want to now,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “i just… don’t know what to do,” he mumbles.

“that’s fine,” you whisper, bringing your other hand up to his face and kissing his cheek tenderly. “we’ll go slow, and you tell me what you want.”

he hesitates, then tentatively places his hands on your waist, still holding your hands. “i want to kiss you again.”

you smile. “i can do that.”

and you lean back in, pressing your lips to his. gently at first, until he grips your waist a little harder and starts kissing you a little deeper. you let him get used to it, allowing him to set the pace he wants.

testing the waters, you push down on his lap a little, starting to grind lightly on his crotch. he whimpers and tugs at your hips to help you, beginning to fall into a steady rhythm. 

you stay like this for a while, leisurely making out on his lap, for longer than you normally would with someone else. but this isn’t someone else, this is junhui, and you’re more than content going as slow as he wants. plus, all this is just making you wetter and wetter as time goes on, riling you up the more you think about what’s to come later.

you can feel him getting harder underneath you, and you moan into him, eagerly but patiently waiting for him. his hands climb up your back, hooking around your shoulders and pulling you almost completely flush with his chest.

he pulls away after a minute, lips red and puffy from the contact and breathing hard. “don’t– you need a c-condom, when… so you, don’t get pregnant?” he stutters out, struggling to get the words out and to stop from bucking his hips against you.

“i have an iud, it’s alright,” you say, also panting for breath.

“okay.” he exhales and leans back, letting go of your hips.

you look at him in confusion at his sudden pause. “why…?”

he stares at you. “uh, don’t you have to go put it in? or did you do that before you got here?”

you snort. “my iud? no, it’s in all the time. it doesn’t come out.” 

“oh,” he says, his cheeks flushing pink. “sorry, i didn’t know–”

“it’s okay, junnie. don’t apologize,” you say, trying your hardest to hold back a laugh. poor sweet, oblivious junhui. you’re not laughing at him, you’re laughing at how adorably clueless he is. you find yourself hoping you might be the one to help him understand these things, if he wants you to.

“have you… before?” he asks shyly, avoiding your eyes again.

you pause, knowing he’s already embarrassed and trying to answer him as gently as possible. “yes,” you say finally, and his face droops a little at your response. “but that doesn’t mean anything. it’s my first time with you, too, so we’re learning about each other. that’s all it is. so just… don’t think about it, okay? the only thing i’m thinking about right now is you.”

his cheeks are a deep shade of pink, but he nods. you take his hands carefully and put them at the hem of your shirt, guiding him to pull it up and over your head. you unclasp your bra and turn around to toss it over to your chair.

“now your turn,” you say gently, looking up at his eyes, which are still focused on your boobs.

“ju-un,” you murmur in a sing-song voice, and his eyes snap back to your face. “do you want to keep going?” 

“yeah,” he chokes out. “i mean– yes. yes, please.”

you coo at his manners, moving off of his lap to wiggle your pants down your legs. his eyes are completely transfixed on your body, admiring every inch of you that he can see.

“do you want to now?” you ask, and he nods rapidly. he stands up and throws his shirt off, and his pants are quick to follow until he’s sitting back in his chair in only his boxers. the lines of his stomach seem even more defined in the low light of the studio, and you so desperately want to run your hands up and down his torso, and feel every inch of him, but– one thing at a time.

you slide your panties off and go back to your position straddling his lap. “is this okay?” you ask again.

“mhm,” he hums lowly, and you feel it deep in your abdomen, walls clenching around nothing at the sound.

his eyes dart around your face, and you reach up to run your fingers through his hair, tucking it gently behind his ear. “are you ready?” you ask softly.

his eyes widen, and he springs into action, his hands flying to your waist again. “oh! okay, yes, yes, um…”

you try not to giggle at his enthusiasm. you trail your hand carefully down to the waistband of his shorts, slipping the tip of your finger inside the elastic. “you have to take this off, junnie,” you whisper.

“mm, okay,” he whines, and you lift up a little so he can slide them down without standing up. he kicks them off and you sit back down, looking down to see what you’re working with. now that he’s fully hard, you can see that he’s… big, much bigger than you expected from a man this shy.

but who are you to judge, so you adjust on his lap, sitting up to reach below you and take his cock in your hand, positioning it at your entrance. he whimpers at the contact as you slowly drag his tip through your folds, spreading your wetness around. 

“you just sit here and let me do all the work, baby, okay?” you hum, gripping his shoulder with your other hand. “let me make you feel good, hm?”

he lets out a garbled noise in response, barely comprehending your words at how engrossed he is with the way you’re holding his cock so delicately, waiting to push it inside and finally feel you.

“junnie, need you to use your words, honey,” you say gently, moving the hand on his shoulder to lightly cup his jaw, lifting his chin so his gaze lands on your face. “you have to tell me if you don’t like something or you wanna do something different, okay?

“i wanna do you,” he says, staring blankly into your eyes, and that’s when you know he’s already gone.

you giggle. “i know, baby. you’re going to. but you have to talk to me.”

“‘cause you like my voice.”

you resist the urge to cringe, still embarrassed that that’s the thing he remembers about you. “yes, i do, but no, that's not why. you need to tell me if you want to stop, at any time, and we’ll stop, okay?”

hearing your tone get serious, he seems to snap out of it a little. “okay,” he whimpers. “can i…?”

he trails off, and you shake your head. you know he’s shy, but you can’t let him off the hook every single time, or else he’ll never learn. “can you what, honey? use your words.”

by now the tips of his ears have turned red, and he’s beginning to lose control, his hips starting to grind against you involuntarily. “can i… fuck you?” he rasps.

“of course you can,” you coo, slipping your hand behind his neck and kissing him gently. “good job, baby.”

he mewls at the praise, and you finally start to sink down on his cock. it burns at first with how girthy he is, but soon the stretch feels good, and you have to fight to keep yourself upright on his lap, soft whimpers escaping your lips.

he groans, throwing his head back against the back of his chair, his grip on your waist tightening. it takes some time, but you finally sit all the way down on his lap, legs splayed on either side of his hips.

immediately he thrusts up into you hard, and you yelp, pushing on his shoulders to get him to stop. “wait!” you pant, squeezing your eyes shut in pain. “just… wait a second first.”

“s-sorry,” he whines, his adam’s apple bobbing with each labored breath.

“s’okay,” you breathe, beginning to adjust to the feeling of his thick cock throbbing inside you. “you’re… big, gotta– gotta give me a second, oh my god.”

he hums absently, clearly pleased with your response, but he manages to stop moving for a little bit.

you sit still on top of him, your muscles gradually beginning to relax as you get used to the feeling.

he sighs, his hands sliding up your back, caressing your skin beneath his fingertips.  “feels so good, just wanna… fuck, just wanna be inside you forever.”

you would be surprised at the sudden lewdness of his words, if you weren’t so focused on the way the tone of his voice has abruptly dropped an octave. he’s starting to get more comfortable, you can tell, and you won’t lie: it’s dangerous for you.

“can– are you okay now?” he asks, eyes focused back on your face again.

“mhm,” you manage, letting out a short exhale. you start to wind your hips in circles, bouncing slowly on his lap as his hands roam your body, touching every inch of you as if he’s trying to memorize every last curve.

it’s a gentle pace; although much too slow for you, you’re hoping it’s just right for junhui to start out with. you’re not used to being on top, so you’re doing your best to keep up, but your thigh is starting to cramp from the position you’ve been sitting in and having to do the work yourself.

he must notice your discomfort, because his hands fall back down to their place at your waist, kneading your skin as he lifts his hips against you in rhythm.

“can i take over?” he mumbles, voice breathy. “please, let me, please.”

“yes, please,” you sigh, your head falling forward to rest on his chest. his skin is burning hot beneath your cheek, and you exhale, closing your eyes from exhaustion.

as soon as you relax and stop moving your hips, his own start moving immediately, your surprised cry punctuated by hard thrusts up into you, over and over again.

you’re still trying to figure out where the hell he got all this stamina from when he starts murmuring in your ear, sweet, dirty whispers as he pounds into you from below.

“you’re so… beautiful, oh my god,” he says in the low voice you’re still struggling to get used to hearing come out of his mouth. “you’re so good, wanna have you like this forever, please–”

“jun, ke–keep talking, please,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut in pleasure.

“you like my voice, but you sound so pretty right now,” he groans. “you should hear yourself. wanna hear you cry and make you feel so good, wanna hear you– god, wanna fuck you like this all day and never stop.”

you let out a moan, his words going straight through you. the rumble in his chest as he speaks reverberates against your head. 

the combination of his brutal pace along with the innocently filthy words from his mouth brings you right up to the edge, and you feel the knot in your abdomen tightening.

you shift a little, moving up so you can wrap your arms around his neck, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

his hips falter for half a second at the contact, but he recovers quickly, wrapping his long arms around you and pressing you flush against his chest, jerking you up and down on his cock with fervor.

“you’re so pretty, you’re so beautiful, you’re so perfect,” he babbles, somehow remembering to keep talking you through everything. “love you so much– fuck, thank you, you’re so amazing, you’re so–”

you almost miss the four-letter word that slips out in between his praises, but it rings through your ears, nestling itself in your heart. you decide to ignore it for now, too focused on chasing your rapidly approaching high, but you promise yourself you’ll talk to him after this is all over and figure out what this is between you two.

you whine, breath catching in your throat as your own words tumble out of you in a constant stream. “keep going, jun, please– keep going, so close, please, junnie please, need you–”

“are you gonna cum? you’re so perfect, please cum for me, please, baby, lemme hear you.”

“fuck, yes!” and with that you’re catapulting over the edge with a sob, clenching around his cock as your orgasm slams into you.

he keeps thrusting into you, not once stuttering as he fucks you through your high, content to keep going and going and going until–

“jun,” you call out weakly, head swirling as you try to sit up. “jun. jun, you can s-slow down.”

his hips begin to stop, slowing down until he’s gently rocking you back and forth on his lap. “did you cum already?” he asks in surprise. like a dork.

you choke out a laugh, head lolling as your arms loosen around his neck. “yeah. yeah, i did.”

“oh.”

if you weren’t so exhausted already, you would burst out laughing. “you’ll figure it out,” you wheeze, hoping it sounds reassuring. 

he starts to move his arms to let go of you, still wrapped around your torso, but you whine and he freezes.

“just… stay here first,” you say, letting your eyes fall shut for a second.

“why?”

you sigh. “because it’s nice.”

“oh,” he says again. he settles back into the chair, holding you on his lap, arms wrapped around you, just sitting quietly.

after a few more seconds of peace you pull yourself upright, pushing your hands against his chest.

“ …what now?” he asks quietly, eyes finding your face.

“you didn’t cum yet, right?” you say. he hums out a no. “then we keep going.”

he yelps in surprise when you start to lift yourself off his lap, his still-hard cock slipping out of you, now soaked in your juices. “don’t we have to wait for you?”

you fight the urge to slap your hand over your forehead. “i can cum more than once, honey. we don’t need to wait,” you say with the straightest face you can muster.

he nods, taking in this clearly unheard of information.

“do you want me to suck you off?” you ask, bringing his attention back to you.

“wh-what?” he stutters, face turning red, clearly not expecting it.

you take in a deep breath. “where do you want to finish?” you try instead, thinking it might help him decide.

“where will you let me?” he replies, wide eyes searching yours as if it’s a trick question designed to make him fail and you’re hiding the answer somewhere in your tender gaze.

“wherever you want, junnie.”

he pauses, like he’s making sure you aren’t lying to him. “can–” he clears his throat and starts again, more sure of himself. “i have an, um… idea.”

“mhm,” you breathe, watching him expectantly.

“do you think i could, maybe… stand up? and, have– you, over the…” he trails off, gesturing to the empty table beside you and hoping you’ll understand what he’s trying to say.

“you want to bend me over and fuck me on the table?” you translate for him, blinking.

instantly his cheeks flare, the shyness returning. “well, i… i. no, um, uh–”

“you can say yes, junnie. it’s hot.”

“you think so?” he squeaks in shock.

you giggle. “yes. you can do whatever you want to, just ask me first.”

his face breaks out into a wide grin. “okay. will you please, um, follow me?” he asks, holding out his arm like a waiter leading you to a table at a restaurant. if he wasn’t so damn cute you definitely would’ve smacked him by now.

you finally move off of his lap and step away, giving him room to move from his chair. you’d forgotten how big he is until he stands up, towering over you, and it sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. he turns and starts walking away, expecting you to follow him.

you laugh and grab his arm, pulling him back. when he looks at you in curiosity, you take his large hands and place them on your waist, motioning for him to guide you.

his mouth falls into an ‘o’ and he follows your lead, pushing you by your hips over to the table.

he stands behind you, caging you in against the table with his tall frame but otherwise not doing anything. you glance over your shoulder at him, nodding in approval.

his hands leave your waist and ever so gently press on your lower back to tilt you over. you comply, letting him move you how he wants.

“is that good?” he asks softly.

“it’s great,” you say, wiggling your ass playfully. “good job asking.”

he hums, so low it’s more like a growl, and it sends another shiver down your spine. at this angle you can feel his dick pressed against your ass, hard and throbbing.

he grinds against you, dragging his cock up and down your hole. you know he’s not doing it intentionally to tease you—you’re not even sure if he’s capable of that—but it does plenty to rile you up.

“junnie, please?” you gasp out, writhing your hips in search of friction, anything. his grip tightens on you, stilling your movements.

“what do i do?” he whispers.

“put it in,” you whisper back, unable to stop the giggle that slips out. he whines in annoyance, so you stop, giving him real advice this time. “just go slow. you can do it, baby.”

you angle your ass up, hoping to give him better access to your dripping hole. he’s already been inside you once, so surely he can find it again… right?

your expectations are clearly too high, because suddenly you feel his tip pressing in between your ass cheeks, and he’s—

you yelp, and he freezes, his hands flying off of you. you reach behind and stick your index finger into your pussy, using the rest of your fingers to spread your folds apart so he can see. “this one, baby.” at least he was going slow, like you said.

“oh! sorry, i’m so sorry,” he mumbles, and even without looking you already know he’s redder than a tomato. 

“jun. don’t apologize. it’s okay,” you say softly. you move your hand away from your pussy and reach it out to him, craning your neck to see him. you wave your fingers at him, and he takes your hand, automatically twining his fingers with yours. it makes you smile. “just go for it, honey.”

“okay,” he breathes, and he starts slowly pushing into you again (the right one this time).

tiny gasps fall from your lips as you feel him fill you up again, stuffing you with his cock, inch by careful inch. once he bottoms out you exhale, letting out the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding in.

when you don’t feel any more movement, you realize he’s stopped, waiting. you almost whine at how cute and considerate he is, but instead you just squeeze his hand. “baby, you can move.”

“okay,” he says again, and pulls out carefully before slowly pushing back in.

you moan as he starts to increase his pace, rapidly pumping into you as his hips smack against your ass. you arch your back a little, trying to angle him in deeper. each powerful thrust pushes you against the table, your hip bones hitting the edge in a way that’ll definitely leave bruises. but you can’t bring yourself to care when junhui’s thick cock is thrusting into you like his life depends on it. 

still holding onto his hand, you slip your other hand down to run your fingers over your clit, rubbing small circles. you can feel the pressure in your abdomen growing, and—

“fuck, you’re so tight,” jun groans, voice thick with need, and he begins pushing into you even harder than before, something you didn’t even think could be possible. you whine and move your hand from your clit back to the edge of the table to stop yourself from ramming into it.

he notices your elbow bent at an awkward angle to protect yourself, so he lets go of your hand and snakes around your stomach to pull you back so you’re standing upright, both his arms wrapped securely around your body. “feels so good… god, wish i had done this sooner, you’re so amazing, so perfect, for me.”

you whimper at his words, unintentionally clenching around him. “jun,” you cry out softly.

“fuck, baby, say my name again– please, like that, baby, please say it, again,” he begs you, fingers pressing into your skin that you’re sure will leave you covered in little oval-shaped bruises by the time he’s done.

“jun! please, i’m so close, jun,” you moan, repeating his name over and over again like a mantra, getting closer and closer to your release with each syllable.

“i’m cl-close too, baby, please… you’re so good, fuck! you’re so good.”

the constant praise is almost too much, and with one more sharp thrust you’re coming undone on his cock for the second time. your legs wobble as you struggle to stay standing, your hands coming up to hang on to junhui’s strong arms wrapped around you for support.

he whines loudly, and you know he must be getting close, too. “can i– can i cum on your back?” he pants out, still gripping you tightly. as much as he really, really wants to cum inside you, he figures it might be messier than cumming on you. and besides, he doesn’t want to get too greedy; it is only his first, after all.

“yes! yes please, yes, jun,” you manage, still wading through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

a little harder than he intends, he’s shoving you roughly down onto the table again, pulling his dick out of you to jerk himself over you.

“junnie, please,” you whimper out weakly, and the sweet sounding words on your lips have him choking back a sob as he cums, thick spurts of white painting your lower back.

he keeps moving his hand on his cock until he’s completely finished, panting heavily. by the time he’s done you’re both sticky with sweat, breathing like you’ve just run a marathon.

you let out a long sigh, feeling exhausted but satisfied. silence settles over the studio, the music long stopped, but you can’t tell if it’s a good silence or a bad silence.

you realize you’d closed your eyes while jun was cumming, and when you don’t feel his touch anymore, you slowly pry them open again, wondering where he went. 

you prop your head up in your hands and look behind you to see jun hastily pulling on his boxers and jeans. 

your jaw drops in horror. you’d thought, with his inexperience, he wouldn’t be like all the other guys who fuck and then take off, but apparently, you thought wrong.

“jun!”

his head whips around as he pulls his zipper up, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“are you seriously gonna just leave?”

his mouth falls open. “no! of course not! i was just putting my pants back on.”

your expression softens. “oh,” you say quietly, face flushing at having jumped to conclusions so quickly. “sorry.”

“why would i wanna leave after this?” he frowns, looking genuinely appalled at the mere idea that someone might do that. “you’re still here.”

“i thought, since–” you start, then pause. discussion for another time. “nevermind, it’s not important. but why were you putting your pants on like you were gonna leave?”

you’re the one feeling embarrassed, but it’s junhui that turns red and starts stuttering. “well, i– um, i didn’t want you to… see…”

you laugh and put your head back in your arms. when you don’t say anything, he calls out your name nervously, and you look back over at him.

“junnie, your dick was just in me. twice. i don’t care what it looks like.”

“okay,” he says shyly, but his fingers still fumble with the button of his jeans.

you sigh once he finishes adjusting his pants. whatever makes him more comfortable, you suppose. “jun, can you… help me clean up now, please?” you ask timidly.

he glances over at you, looking like he’s about to ask why you need help, but then he sees you still bent awkwardly over the table and his cum still covering your back, and his eyes widen. “oh! shit, yeah– yes, i’m so sorry, i will–” he stammers, almost tripping over his backpack in his hurry to go get a tissue from the box by the door.

you sigh, more exhausted than mad, knowing you can’t really fault him. he comes back over a second later, gripping a wadded-up handful of tissues.

he drops them on your back and begins wiping at your skin, gingerly cleaning you off. when he’s satisfied with his work, he balls up the tissues and tosses them into the small can by the door.

“oh!” he says, realizing. “i think we have antibacterial wipes in here too, do you want me to use one of those? er, wait, i don’t know if they’re safe for skin…”

with your back (mostly) clean again, you stand up, wincing at the ache in your hips. “it’s fine, don’t worry about it. i’ll shower when i get home.”

you limp over to your chair, picking up your clothes and sitting down to start getting dressed again.

when jun finishes pulling his shirt over his head and looks over at you he gasps, seeing the bruises across your hips and tummy. “holy shit! did i do that?” he asks, looking horrified, and you look down to check.

“oh. yeah, that and the table,” you shrug, hooking your bra behind your back.

“i’m sorry,” he says, voice quivering, and he genuinely looks like he’s about to cry until you convince him you’re alright and he didn’t do anything wrong.

“it’s not supposed to hurt, though, i thought,” he frowns. “i don’t want to hurt you. i lo– um, like you,” he says, “why would i want to hurt you?” he catches himself quickly, but you heard what he started to say. you decide now isn’t the best moment for you to bring it up, so you leave it alone.

“sometimes people like it when it hurts. sometimes people like it not to hurt. everybody’s different,” you tell him instead.

he nods, thinking. “i… liked this,” he says finally.

you smile, finishing putting the last of your clothes back on. “good, i’m glad. you’re supposed to enjoy it.”

“did… you like it?” he asks tentatively.

“yes, i did like it,” you giggle, and he beams, clearly proud of himself. and he should be. obviously it wasn’t the most perfect of your life, but when is it ever? it was close enough to perfect that it might as well be.

“you live on campus, right? so i don’t need to walk you to your car?” he asks, grabbing his jacket that somehow fell on the floor and tossing it onto his chair as he starts to shut everything down in the studio.

you sigh. damn, you’d forgot about this part. sure, a couple hours ago you could walk just fine to the communications building on the complete opposite side of campus, but you hadn’t planned on getting railed within an inch of your life so you hadn’t exactly thought to bring your car. “yeah, but i… it’s on the south end, and i probably won’t be able to walk very far,” you mumble, avoiding his gaze. “i’ll take the shuttle.”

he frowns. “i’m not gonna let you take the bus. i can give you a ride.”

“you don’t need to, jun.”

“yes, i do,” he says assertively, and it startles you enough to meet his eyes. you haven’t ever heard his voice that firm, and when you look up his expression is as equally determined as his tone. not that you’d ever admit it to him, but it is kind of… hot.

you decide not to argue with him, knowing you won’t be able to change his mind anyway. you nod an ‘okay’, and his face instantly brightens to the awkward, nerdy jun you’re used to, beaming like he did when you first agreed to another date, back in the café what feels like ages ago.

“are you doing anything tonight?” you ask, watching him shut down the equipment and turn all the knobs and dials to an off position.

“no. i mean, i was gonna catch up on my show, but then, i didn’t expect for… this, to happen, so…” he shrugs. “i don’t know.”

“do you wanna come over? i… i mean, not to do anything. just… wanna be with you.” your voice comes out smaller than you intend it to, but jun still hears you loud and clear.

“yeah,” he grins. “yeah, that would be really cool.”

he pauses, looking like he wants to ask you something but not sure if he should. “can i give you a hug?” he says finally.

you smile. only junhui would ask for something as small and sweet as a hug after having sex. “yes, please.”

he crosses the room in two strides, barely giving you time to process before he’s squeezing you in his arms. you sigh and automatically melt into his arms, inhaling the perfumey scent of his cologne lingering on his wrinkled clothes.

it feels… good, being cared about.

he finishes shutting everything down quickly and grabs his things, swinging his backpack over his shoulder as he flips off the lights and closes the door behind you, making sure it’s locked before heading down the stairs.

you hate the way your legs tremble going down the steps, cursing him for being so good at his first time, because who the hell is that good their first time? already at the bottom of the stairs, jun looks back to see where you are and why you aren’t beside him, and, seeing you gripping onto the side railing for support, he dashes back up the steps two at a time to grab your arm and help you.

“you weren’t kidding when you said you couldn’t walk,” he giggles, holding the door open for you, and oh my god you want to hit him. “does that always happen? i thought people always just made that up to sound cool.”

“yes, i wasn’t kidding, and no, it doesn’t always,” you mutter, face heating in embarrassment. “depends on the person and how rough it is.”

his smile widens, the implied meaning of your words sinking in. “so what you’re saying is, my di–”

“junnie, if you finish that sentence, i swear to god i will never have sex with you ever again.”

he giggles, but he shuts his mouth, helping you the rest of the way to his car in silence. this time you know for sure, it’s a good silence.

his car is nicer than you’d expect a man’s car to be: clean and fairly organized, and there’s no half-eaten fast food in the backseat. he swings open the door for you and tries to help you sit down, but you swat his hand away.

he jogs around to the driver side door and slides into the seat, slamming it shut behind him. he buckles up, then grabs a candy cane from the pile in the cupholder and holds it out to you. “candy cane?”

“i’m… good,” you laugh, forcing yourself not to make a joke about having better things to suck on. why does he even have those in his car?

the ride to your apartment complex is pleasant. as expected from the radio man himself, as soon as the key is in the ignition, he turns the radio on, humming along to every song. you find yourself spending most of the drive staring at him, studying the tiny features in his cheeks when he smiles and the way his adam���s apple bobs when he hums.

after a shower, clean pajamas, and a raid of your refrigerator for snacks and something to drink, you’re snuggled up on the couch with jun, catching up on the show he wanted to watch. it’s the middle of some random season and you have no idea what’s going on, but you don’t care. just being here with him is more than enough for you, and you’re glad he’s enjoying being here, too.

“do you have a voice kink?” he asks suddenly at one of the commercials.

you nearly choke on your gatorade. “i– well, i mean… i didn’t used to, but…” you sputter out, your cheeks burning in embarrassment. “where did you even hear that?”

“jeonghan said you might.”

you scoff. you still haven’t met junhui’s broadcasting partner yet, but you already have some choice words in mind for him when you do finally get to have the pleasure of meeting him. “well, tell him to keep his thoughts to himself,” you say, taking another smaller sip and avoiding his grin.

“so is that a yes?”

you roll your eyes and ignore him, which might as well be a yes, but you choose not to admit it. you know you definitely need to talk to him about… everything, but he seems so happy right now, you don’t want to risk ruining the evening.

but luckily for you, he brings it up himself at the next commercial break.

“how long do i have to wait until i can ask you to be my girlfriend?” he says, muting the tv and looking over at you.

you laugh. “were we not… already?” you ask. “we’ve been on, like, four dates. usually that part happens before you have sex.”

he looks a little disappointed, for some reason. not exactly the reaction you’d expect when someone tells you they want to keep seeing you. “oh. um, well…” he starts, scratching at the back of his neck. “i planned it all out, i was gonna do this big thing and ask you. i thought i was supposed to. i meant to do it earlier, but…” he trails off, cheeks turning pink.

your expression softens. “you… can ask me now,” you say, putting your hand on his thigh.

“okay.” he clears his throat, sitting up straighter on the couch. “will you be my girlfriend?”

you try not to laugh at how serious he is, knowing he’s really, really trying. “yes, of course,” you reply, trying to match his seriousness.

“is that okay? that i didn’t do it right?” he asks nervously, fiddling with the hem of the blanket covering your laps.

you smile and bring your hand up to his cheek, pulling him towards you to give him a quick kiss. “you did it perfect, junnie.”

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[auras-moonstone]

hii i love your work sm! do you think you do back to december by taylor swift ethan x reader?

back to december — ethan landry

word count: 1,876

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: after insecurities got the best of her, y/n breaks up with ethan. a few months later, she goes to his dorm to say sorry for that night.

warnings: angst, mentions of toxic relationship, insecurities.

Y/N KNEW SHE HAD PROBABLY MADE THE BIGGEST MISTAKE OF HER LIFE BY BREAKING UP WITH ETHAN, but at the same time she knew it was probably the best thing for him. The ghost of her past relationship never quite stopped haunting her—do the wounds of a toxic relationship ever fully heal? Y/N was starting to believe they did, until she bumped into him, and the fears crept back into her mind after that.

Do you really think he loves you?

He only wants you for your looks, but he’ll eventually get tired of you, like I did, because you have nothing else to offer.

Smart boys like Ethan Landry end up with equally-smart girls, Y/N. You’re just a good fuck for him, a doll to have on his arm.

It’s not going to last, he’s going to break up with you. He’s too good for you, you know that, right?

Those were the words that he had said and Y/N couldn’t erase from her mind. Those were the words that led her to leave her only source of happiness, the only boy she had ever truly loved. Ethan was better off without her, he was too amazing and sweet to have to deal with her and her insecurities and demons.

But if it was for the best, why did it feel so wrong? She hadn’t been able to sleep ever since. She stayed up late and played the scene of her leaving the commodity of his arms.

The worst day after the break-up had been the one of his birthday. Many were the times she had opened his contact, her finger floating around the ‘call’ button, but she didn’t dare to do it. And then, she saw their friends’ Instagram stories and she broke down. They were throwing him a party, and Ethan looked so beautiful yet so sad, and she knew that was on her. It was wishful thinking, probably mindless dreaming, but she wondered if one of the birthday wishes involved her.

She missed him so much, the pain wouldn’t leave her chest. She missed watching him laugh from the passenger side when they made their way to college, she missed his long fingers wrapped around hers, his big brown eyes that were like magnets, and she really missed those lips she used to call home.

It had been three months since she left him standing in his living room, with a crestfallen expression and without letting him fight for their relationship. Y/N knew that if she had let him talk, she wouldn’t have been able to walk away, so she ran before that could happen.

A few weeks after that, she got into therapy, thing she should’ve done since she stepped out of her toxic relationship, and was finally able to see she had messed up. She should’ve never walked away without telling him everything first, she forgot the most important thing in a relationship is communication. She had let herself get scared by the ghost of her past and hurt a person that had done nothing but give her roses, and in exchanged she had left them there to die.

Y/N had decided it was time to swallow her pride, take her feet towards Ethan’s dorm and say sorry for that awful night. Not only for him, because that’s what he deserved, but also for her. Because there hadn’t been a day in which she hadn’t gone back to December, wishing she could go back in time and change it. She couldn’t do that, but she could still make things right.

So building up courage, she knocked on his door. Heart beating faster as she listened the sound of footsteps getting closer to her.

Ethan cursed when he heard the knock. Dragging his feet across the living room, he scolded Chad on his mind. His roommate had the habit of forgetting his key and it really annoyed Ethan. Though when he swung the door open, he froze in his place as he came face to face with the girl who lived free-rent on his mind. Even if she had ran away after the three words left his mouth, he couldn’t help missing her.

That rainy december night, in that very same apartment, Ethan had told Y/N he loved her. It was something he had been dying to get off his chest. He hadn’t expect her to say it back—he would’ve understood if she wasn’t ready, but he definitely hadn’t expected her to walk out of that door without uttering a word. He had given her his heart and she had dropped it, breaking it into a million pieces like shattered glass.

“Hi.” she broke the heavy silence.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in a cold voice. Ethan stood firmly on the door, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I wanted to talk to you.” she said softly, and then, disguising the pain it caused her, though not doing a great job at it, she added, “I texted you, but you either changed your number or you blocked me.”

Guiltiness filled his chest, but then he shook it off—she left him, not the other way around. He shouldn’t feel guilty. Of course he blocked her, and then deleted her number to avoid giving into the need to call her and beg for an explanation. “Um, yeah. Look, if it’s about that night, it’s okay. I’m over it, we don’t need to talk about it. Let’s just move on, on our own way.”

I’m over it… those words were like a slap to her face. Did he really move on? Had the love he felt for her turn into ashes? Fighting the urge to cry, she pleaded, “I can’t move on if I don’t explain what happened. I understand if you don’t want to see me right now, I can wait. I just… I really need to tell you what was going on in my mind. I still live in the same apartment, so, if you decide you want to hear my version… you know where to find me. No pressure.” she gave him a tiny smile and turned around, ready to walk away.

Ethan heard the sound of his own voice say “Wait.”, making her turn around with hopeful eyes, and Ethan just gave in. Her eyes were still his greatest weakness, just as his eyes were hers. “Come in.”

The two ex-lovers sat awkwardly on the very same couch they had been laying on that night. "So, how's life? How's your family? Haven't seen them in a while." she said, meaning to clear the mood.

"Good, we are good. Busier than ever. Did you come from work?" his tone was a polite one, but it didn't hold the softness Y/N had been accustomed to. It was very clear that his guard was up, and Y/N knew exactly why—he hadn't moved on like he tried to make her believe a couple of minutes ago, he was still hurt and confused. The last time he saw her still burned in the back of his mind, and that's why she needed to explain everything.

"Yeah." she answered before sighing. "I know this is uncomfortable for you, so I should just get it off the desk. I'm sorry, Eth. I'm sorry for that night. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, I'm sorry I ever left."

The walls broke down after the situation was addressed, and Ethan finally showed how he really felt—his eyes got glossy and he looked her in the eyes, the desperation painted on his face. "Why did you do it? I told you I loved you for the first time, and you just left me. I don't understand. Did I scare you? Was it too soon for you? I'm sorry if I overwhelmed you, I just wished you would've talked to me instead of disappearing."

"God, no. Stop. Why would you apologize? You did nothing wrong." she assured him, resting her hand on top of his. "It wasn't too soon, and I didn't leave because I didn't love you. I did. I've known it since the fall."

"Fall? But we started dating during the fall." he said confused. Y/N blushed and shrugged—yes, she had fallen in love with him quickly and hard, but it was inevitable. Ethan was the most amazing guy she'd ever known. "If you'd known it since then, what happened? Why didn't you say it back?"

"That morning I bumped into my ex." Y/N confessed.

Ethan furrowed his eyes and his jaw clenched. Nothing good could've come out of that encounter. He remember the way she sobbed on his chest as he held her in his arms that September night; how, in between hiccups, she told him the manipulation and abuse her ex had put her through. And now, everything clicked: why Y/N had looked so shaken up when they met that day, why she looked so off. "What did that asshole say?"

Y/N repeated every exact word. Words that had worked as salt on a wound that had never quite closed. "I really thought I had moved on from all that hurt, but it took just a few words from him to tear all my confidence and progress down. After I broke up with you, my mom sent my this therapist's number... and now I’m finally okay."

Ethan was never a violent person, but now, he wanted nothing more than to find that piece of shit and cut his tongue so he can never speak like that to someone again, especially not to his girl. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I should've asked you what was wrong."

"You did, Eth. And I brushed you off." she smiled weakly. "I should have told you. I was just so scared, and I really believed he was right. I'm so sorry, Eth. I'm sorry for hurting you."

"It's okay. I understand now. You didn't deserve to go through the hell that asshole put you in. I'm glad you got help and moved on from that."

"Me too. I just... I just wish it hadn't been at the expense of your feelings." her voice got weak, and Ethan didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her.

"I know, but you are okay now, and you came here to explain everything." he assured her, pressing her close to his chest. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, you have no idea. I have been replaying that moment since December, I wish I could change what happened."

"Stop punishing yourself, love. It's done, it's in the past. You are here now, we are here now. That is all that matters."

"I love you, Ethan. I loved you then, and I still love you now. And... I get if you aren't ready for this but I want to try again. I swear I'll love you right, just like you deserve."

"I've been dreaming of this moment for months, love." he said softly and sweetly, eyes shining like fireworks. "Yes, I want to try again. I love you."

"Really?"

"Yes, really" he said, leaning down to let their lips connect. And as always, they were like two pieces that belonged together, two pieces that should've never been apart. "I loved you then, and I still love you now."

[euphorajeon]

wednesday night(s) | jjk

— pairing: jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff? | college au

— word count: 2.9k

— warnings: laundromat!jk (!!!), stalkerish behaviour (not jk or oc), dubious-consensual kissing (but they talk about it after), jk is a sweetheart and oc is just a blabbering mess

— summary: on a wednesday night seven weeks ago, you met someone in the laundry room. this wednesday night, you meet him again.

— author's note: i suck at summaries,, the story is better i promise (i hope,,, T_T) anyways. i had this in the draft like a few weeks after seven mv was released and then got stuck, revisited it months later then finished it like this. hah. i hope laundromat!jk with his grey hoodie and curly hair is enough to keep this enjoyable :]

masterlist

The dim lighting of the shared laundry room in your apartment building greets you as you step inside with your laundry basket in hand. It’s devoid of other people when you look around, the whirring of the washers and dryers the only sound competing with the silence of the night. You exhale a breath of relief, quickly making a beeline for the nearest empty washer to load your dirty clothes that’s piled up for a week.

Being a college student doesn’t give you many options for your living arrangement, only being able to settle on a one-bedroom apartment with a communal laundry room. In the first months of moving into the apartment, your schedule only allowed you to do your laundry on the weekends, which was apparently the same case for most patrons of the building. The laundry room was always full of people and you had to secure a washer by waiting for someone else to finish, wasting precious hours away from your supposedly free weekend. That, and your social battery was always drained from all the loud conversations among roommates and friends alike when they were also waiting for a washer to free up. You couldn’t stand having your energy gone even before Monday said hello, so you tried to clear your schedule to avoid doing laundry on the weekend.

Wednesday nights are scheduled for laundry now, after a day of two classes at campus and one shift at the coffee shop five bus stops away from where you live. Usually you’d be tired after the long day, but the laundry room is mostly quiet in the middle of the week, so you use the time to decompress while preparing yourself for your 10 am shift at the coffee shop Thursday morning. The burn in your arms after folding your shirts and pants for nearly twenty minutes helps you tune out your surroundings, which normally consists of the occasional one or two other patrons coming in and the whirr and beep of machines.

“You showed up late tonight.”

Ah, that’s something you forget to mention. Or rather, someone.

Your heart jumps in your chest, beats stuttering a bit faster not because you’re flustered in his presence, but because he just popped out of nowhere. Wasn’t the room empty when you scanned it upon your entry?

Maybe you were too busy trying to declutter your mind from the day’s events that you didn’t hear him loading his own laundry into the washer. Didn’t hear the beep when his washer started, didn’t hear him calling you upon noticing your presence, didn’t hear him walk closer, and certainly didn’t hear when he sat on top of the washer right next to the one you’re using. Or maybe you did hear something, but didn’t care enough to find out who it was.

“Did you go on a date?” He gestures to the black tanktop you have on underneath your denim jacket. Probably referring to your face too, which is still caked with make up because you haven’t had time to clean it off yet. You spare him a glance with a downturn of your lips, by now a standard response to whatever he says, really.

You met him for the first time around seven weeks ago, when he accidentally knocked you over with his gigantic laundry basket. He had apologized profusely with that big, round peepers of his and you had brushed him off with a polite smile, hoping he’d just drop it and leave you alone like any normal person would. He had been silent for the rest of his laundry cycle, but you could feel the way his eyes never left your figure for the remainder of the night.

A week after that, you found him using the exact same washer as last week and tried to avoid the one next to his, planning to load your laundry quietly and duck out of there before he had the chance to realize that you were in the vicinity. The plan was … partly successful as you managed to get out of the laundry room to wait out the washing cycle in your room, but not before he appeared beside you when you were putting in fabric softener into the washer. He had waited until your washer started running to once again voice out an apology for the laundry basket incident, something you told him to chill out about. He was just about to tell you his name when you mumbled out an excuse to flee, leaving him gaping in the middle of the laundry room. You did not want to know his name.

You found out anyway on your next Wednesday shift at the coffee shop, when you were munching on a chocolate muffin in the break room with one of your coworker, Mingyu. He had been showing you his Instagram account, scrolling through the photos when you recognized the Laundry Guy in one of them. “You know him?” Mingyu had inquired upon noticing your thumb had paused scrolling. A recount of what happened two weeks ago involving a certain doe-eyed boy and his enormous laundry basket was told, pulling out an amused laugh from your coworker. “His name is Jeongguk,” Mingyu kindly informed you (even though you didn’t ask.) “He’s in a few of my classes. Likes doing laundry. One time I went to his apartment to hang out and he did laundry in the middle of the night.”

Maybe you would’ve liked this Jeongguk guy if he kept doing his laundry in the middle of the night, out of your sight.

“Hey, Star, someone is looking for you.” The sound of Jeongguk’s voice pulls you back to the present.

Star. The nickname he started calling you by when he saw you loading your blanket—which is dark blue in color and has yellow stars all over it—into the washer one time. You’ve never really responded to it, but he sticks by the nickname like he’s been calling you that since you both were five. You let him have it then, seeing it as a win-win because it keeps him from knowing your name but still lets you know whenever he’s around and talking to you.

But beyond the nickname, the words after that caught your attention. Jeongguk’s nudge on your arm is barely noticeable, but the way his eyes are fixated on the doorway makes you follow his line of sight. There, just outside the laundry room, stood the person you want to see the least right now. Not after the shitty presentation you gave in class this morning (that in turn, got you scolded by your professor), not after you did terrible on your quiz on the second class, and not after you got an earful from your manager at the cafe for not handling a customer complaint professionally. Oh, and certainly, not in front of Jeongguk.

The person outside the laundry room yells your name. “Fancy meeting you here!” he continues, the cheery tone grating your ears. Fuck, how did he know where you live?

Hyun is—was—just a regular customer of the coffee shop you work at. You always see him on your shift, and in turn, have memorized his name and order because he always orders the exact same, simple thing: a medium caramel macchiato with two extra shots. Heck, it’s simple enough that even Mingyu has it drilled into his brain as well. There are multiple occasions where either you or Mingyu had already had Hyun’s order keyed in when he’s just approaching the cashier. Efficient work time, and all.

Unfortunately, this act of memorization is seen as flirting by the guy. He’s started smiling more at you, giving you cheeky winks, even sliding you his phone number on the napkin by the pick-up counter. You’ve tried to reject him politely, but Hyun is so dense that he interpreted your polite rejection as you playing hard to get and thus has been trying even harder to get you to date him. This makes you furious but Mingyu thinks it’s hilarious.

Wait. Mingyu…

He could be the one who told Hyun where you live. That motherfucker.

In the midst of your misery, you miss the way Jeongguk’s eyes light up at finally getting to know your name after seven weeks. Completely miss the way his eyes fill with mirth and his cherub cheeks lifting up in the beginning of a teasing smile, which dims as soon as he sees you bury your head in hands.

“Can we get out of here?” you grit through your teeth. You don’t even know when I turned to we, and with Jeongguk, of all people. You could’ve just bolted out of there, wait out your laundry cycle in your room like usual and pretend you don’t notice Jeongguk’s disappointed gaze that follows. Could’ve left him to deal with Hyun who’s inching closer towards you and have fun imagining him fumble trying to explain nonexistent shit to Hyun.

But that route could end up very badly if Hyun decided to abandon Jeongguk and follow you up to your room instead. It’s scary enough that he knows precisely what building you live in—you don’t need him knowing the exact room number. Hence, using Jeongguk as a shield at this moment feels like a safe choice.

“Heyyy,” Hyun’s voice reaches your ears again, prompting you to glance up, seeing him just a few steps away from you. In a desperate attempt, you grip the material of Jeongguk’s grey hoodie, whisper I’m so sorry before pulling him down to kiss him right on the mouth.

It’s awkward. You can feel how shocked Jeongguk is by the way his lips are still, frozen like a statue for the first few seconds of your kiss. Can’t blame him, though, after his numerous attempts of camaraderie were only responded with a cold shoulder by you. Heck, if you were in his position, you’d slap yourself across the face for pulling this crazy stunt. But Jeongguk is not you, so instead of that, he relaxes his lips before lightly gripping your jaw to angle your head better so he can kiss you properly.

And kiss properly you do, until all you can hear is only the smacking of your lips and the few soft sighs Jeongguk slips in between. He kisses you slowly, sucks on your bottom lip softly like it’s his favorite gummy candy and he wants to savor the taste. He must’ve had a lot of practice to be kissing someone this good.

“Really?” Hyun’s voice sounds far away in your head. “You think I would fall for that?”

When neither of you responds, still busy sucking each other’s lips, Hyun continues. “Please,” he says sarcastically. “Anyone could see that this is all fake.”

You feel Jeongguk pulling away from the kiss, his lips just a breath away from yours. You keep your eyes closed, your breath held, in fear that you’d melt into a puddle right then and there if you see Jeongguk’s face this close. When he speaks, the faint brush of his lips against yours makes you shiver.

“What makes you think this is fake?” he says. There’s a quirk on the corner of his lips when he kisses you again. “Never seen people kissing before? Or are you just trying to convince yourself that this is fake?”

Jeongguk’s hands move from your face to hold your waist, where he squeezes lightly before once again capturing your lips in his. You let out a muffled yelp when his hands slide lower to hoist you up onto a washing machine. The kissing resumes, more smacking sound is heard, and Hyun’s presence gets pushed to the back of your mind. All you can think about is Jeongguk’s lips, how warm and plush they are, and how they are pulling away from you again.

The tiny whine you let out gets lost in Jeongguk’s grunt, still addressing Hyun: “Scram, bro.” When that gets no response, he adds for good measure: “Shoo.”

You hear Hyun click his tongue in annoyance and the stomps he makes while walking away after, but find yourself unable to focus on either as Jeongguk goes back to sucking your bottom lip. The reason why you’re doing this definitely gets forgotten as you let yourself be carried away in Jeongguk’s kisses.

When someone tears open the door of the washing machine next to you loudly, you tear yourself apart from Jeongguk. He’s panting lightly, cheeks flushed and lips kiss-swollen. He’s also smiling at you, pointedly ignoring the dirty look thrown by the only other person in the laundry room other than you two. You grimace at the person, bowing slightly as a pathetic attempt at an apology.

Then you face Jeongguk again. Who’s still flushed. Whose lips still glisten red. Who’s still smiling at you, this time with mirth in his eyes. You fumble.

“Uh, about earlier—“

“Do you want to get off the washing machine first?”

Uh, what?

Right, you’re still sitting on top of the washing machine. Hoisted up by Jeongguk’s hands. On your thighs. Then kissing, licking, sucking—

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” You clear your throat, bracing your hands on the machine but Jeongguk beats you to it by once again taking hold of your waist to help you step down. Unfortunately, that means your legs haven’t caught up with your brain yet so they buckle like a pair of useless jelly underneath you. Again, Jeongguk steadies you with his firm hold, still with upturned lips.

“Woah, there. You okay?” He giggles—giggles!—eyes scrunching up into crescents. His hands never leave your waist even after you’re standing solid on your own two feet.

“Yeah, um, thanks.” You try to look at anything but him. “Listen, Jeongguk. I—“

“Wait, how do you know my name?” Jeongguk tilts his head, the unruly strands atop his head making him look like a puppy. “I never told you, did I?”

“Oh, Mingyu told me—“

“You know Mingyu?”

You lift your hands to place them on his shoulders firmly. “Let me finish first?”

Jeongguk smiles sheepishly, but nods to let you continue.

“Okay, um. I’m really sorry about earlier … the drama with Hyun and the— kissing…. I just couldn’t think and didn’t know what else to do. I’m really, very sorry.” You let your head drop, the weight of kissing a stranger starting to get to you.

Jeongguk is quiet. You’re conjuring up another speech of apology with some backstory to help you justify yourself, just in case he decides that your first apology isn’t enough.

“It’s okay.” Huh? “I liked kissing you, anyway.”

You choke on air. “Wh—at?”

“I liked kissing you.” Jeongguk smiles again, that same mirth still in his eyes. “You know, Star, for someone so confident in pulling me down for a kiss, you sure are stuttering a lot right now.” His smile turns into a teasing one. “Did you like kissing me too?”

The person next to you slams the washing machine door closed. “Get a room, people,” she hisses before walking out of the laundry room.

“Nice advice.” Jeongguk gestures to the retreating girl. “Should we, Star?”

Your eyes are round in shock, mortified at Jeongguk’s suggestion. Though, you suppose it’s karma for kissing a stranger only for your convenience. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, type of shit.

When you’re still frozen after five seconds, Jeongguk lets out a laugh. “I’m kidding, kidding! Oh, God, you look so scared. Seriously, though, it’s totally okay. You have nothing to be worried about.”

Despite the huge sigh you heave, you’re still not convinced. “Are you sure? I completely understand if you’re mad, though.”

“I’m gonna be mad if you keep apologizing,” Jeongguk says. “Or, if you feel that bad about it … you could pay me back with a date.”

This time, his smile is hopeful. “A date, where you could tell me your real name, how you know Mingyu, and the story about whoever the hell that was that interrupted our kiss.” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow teasingly. “Then, we could end it the way we started today … with a kiss. If you want?”

“Oh, well, if it’s to pay you back for the kiss, sure…” you trail off, feeling weird about how the situation has come to. “Damn, when you ask for my consent like that it makes me feel worse for not doing the same to kiss you earlier.” You physically face-palm.

“Since you feel so bad about that, do you want to ask for my consent now?” Jeongguk looks at you with his big, round eyes, appearing innocent like a child. You wonder if this is the same boy you just kissed some minutes ago.

“How, like, ‘Hey, Jeongguk, someone I don’t like just walked in, can I kiss you?’” you say, half giggling.

“Sounds like a mouthful, maybe just the last four words?” Jeongguk licks his lips.

You tilt your head in amazement, your lips curving up into a small smile. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes you can, Star,” comes Jeongguk’s reply, his hands going back to your jaw. He gives you a wink before dipping down.

“Yes, you can,” he whispers before kissing you once again.

Maybe now you’ll look forward to your weekly laundry schedule—after a day of two classes at campus and one shift at the coffee shop five bus stops away from where you live—on Wednesday nights.

Because on Wednesday nights, a certain boy with big, doe eyes and unruly hair does his laundry with his huge laundry basket and calls you Star. This Wednesday night, he kissed you—uh, you kissed him.

Next Wednesday night … you’d just have to wait and see.

a/n: thank you for reading!! hope you enjoyed this drabble while we wait for bangtan to come back :')) also you can give me feedback here! :D

[eff4freddie]

After She Left | Six

Words: 4.5k

Sarah's mom has arrived in Jackson, appearing at the gate injured and with two others in tow. You and Joel deal with the fall out the best way you can, with mixed results.

Chapter warnings: Slow burn. A heated but angsty kiss.

A/N: Thank you for your patience while I worked my way through some personal stuff. This is a shorter chapter and really just covers the immediate aftermath of Shauna's arrival in Jackson. We'll find out more about her and Joel's relationship once the dust settles.

Five | Series Masterlist | Seven

Joel had done a lot of things that had scared him over the years since the outbreak. He’d fought monsters only the most twisted of minds could dream up, had lost friends, had lost family. Had brought Ellie halfway across a dead country to eke out a life of safety. Had kissed you on the steps of the mess hall with your hair all pretty and your lips so red.

None of it was so terrifying as this moment, in Tommy’s tiny little office crammed off the back of the Town Hall, with his gut churning and his hands wringing endlessly in front of his chest.

It had been about as good of a marriage as it had been long. Thinking back on it now he could see they’d just been kids, basically. Barely out of high school, Joel working his first construction job while Shauna went to the community college, and he’d been so proud of her then, working the shift at the library in the mornings and earning all of about $4 an hour, up and reading all night. He’d loved her, he’d known that he had, and that was how he knew what she lost when she gave him Sarah, how abruptly her life changed, how the little screaming bundle of curls he loved in an instant took his wife away.

Tommy was eyeing him, he could feel the eyes of his little brother on him without even turning his head. He kept his eyes on Shauna, studying her face, tracing back the years, catching the threads of time as they slipped through his fingers. She was still pretty, but she was worn out. He supposed he was much the same.

‘The ambush, we weren’t prepared,’ one of the other men were saying, and Joel paid him little attention. Shauna was shivering, her wide brown eyes watching him as he did her, her arm held to her chest in its sling, dried blood on her collar. Almost on instinct he stepped forward and threw his jacket over her shoulders. She gave him the faintest hit of a smile.

‘You alright?’ he asked, quiet.

‘Joel…’ he heard Tommy say, and Joel knew that he was interrupting, that this was an interrogation and not a homecoming. But seeing her again was making him hear an echo of something long, long forgotten. That her eyes were so pretty. That her eyes were so like her daughter’s.

‘Can I see her?’ Shauna asked him, quiet and ignoring everyone else just as Joel was. Joel felt his brows crease, the look of confusion passing over his face.

‘We’d heard rumours of a town out here, a little bit of the real world behind a wall, but we weren’t trying to find you, I swear it,’ the second man was saying. Joel felt his stomach roll, his tongue drying out in the cavern of his mouth. Her, he realised. Shauna wanted to see her.

‘You pass by any infected?’ Tommy asked, moving into the centre of the room, trying to regain some sort of control while his big brother remained out of commission.

‘She’s…she’s…’ Joel tried to say, but couldn’t say it, not in this room and not in this moment, not with his ex-wife from twenty-five years ago wearing his jacket to keep out the cold. It didn’t make sense, the clashing of these worlds, of these times. He felt woozy with it, wondered if he needed a stiff drink or if that would just make it worse.

She was studying his face, expecting and scared and hopeful and surely she knew, surely she would have to figure it out just by the way words were failing him.

‘No infected, just the raiders,’ the second man replied.

‘You’ll have to quarantine,’ Tommy responded, and Joel could feel that he was letting things slip by him, that his brother probably needed him to back him up, needed to be a silent authority figure in the background, menacing and malevolent and just an arm’s length away from a rifle at all times.

‘We don’t even know if they’re staying,’ Maria was saying to Tommy.

‘We can’t throw ‘em out in the middle of the night. Not when it’s her,’ Tommy snapped. Joel could see Maria peering at him, at Shauna, trying to piece things together.

‘Sarah didn’t make it,’ Joel said, finally, settling on words that in no way conveyed the horror of that night, of the magnitude of it. The room around him went silent as the other inhabitants felt the weight shift, sensed a loss was in the room. Joel watched as Shauna’s face contracted into shock, then into disappointment, into sadness. Joel knew that look. Saw it most mornings in the mirror, his failure etched as it was into his skin.

‘When...?’ Shauna asked, her face turning ashen.

‘First night,’ Joel replied, not elaborating, finding himself completely unable to.

‘Oh.’ Shauna replied. She blinked, realising for the first time the rest of the room’s eyes were on her. ‘I thought when I saw you, maybe she…’

Joel shook his head, tried to shake the words loose, tried to knock them out of the air around him.

‘No,’ he said, simply. As if it would ever be that simple.

‘We’ll do whatever you need us to do, quarantine for as long as you like,’ the first man said, stepping towards Shauna, eyeing Joel carefully. Joel stared back at him, blankly.

‘I thought, sometimes, that maybe she was still out there, that maybe she was OK’ Shauna said, her eyes growing wet, finally turning her eyes to the floor. ‘It helped, sometimes, to think she was…just over the horizon.’

Joel swallowed, realising for the first time he had barely been breathing, felt the pull and ache of his chest.

‘Can’t do this now,’ he said, stepping back and turning to Tommy. ‘Can’t do this with her.’

His brother nodded, moving out of the way to give Joel a clear run at the door. Joel heard the snuffling, Shauna’s little gasps for air as he pushed the door open with his shoulder, not trusting the tremble in his hands, felt not for the first time that he had failed to keep Sarah tethered to him, to the living. Had borne witness to another loss of her, had lost her all over again.

--

Your first thought had been the kids, the alarms bringing prom to a crashing halt. You wanted to make some kind of stupid joke about how all proms ended in disaster one way or another, but it didn’t feel right, and instead you braced your cheeks into a smile and rounded them up in the town square, assuring them all they were still safe, that it was in hand. They had all seen Tommy and a couple of the council walk the new arrivals at gunpoint to the town hall. You weren’t sure if it was reassuring. You watched Ellie watch Joel, the way his shoulders tensed before he seemed to collapse in on himself, his little brother whispering urgently in his ear.

‘Who is that lady?’ Mika asked you, and you looked to Ellie for answers. She shrugged, and you the worry on her face.

‘It’s all in hand,’ you said, pulling Mika’s jacket tighter over his shoulders and spying his mother in the crowd. ‘Go on now, it’s past your bedtime anyway.’

‘I don’t gotta bed time,’ Mika replied, defiant to the last. You smiled, genuinely, at him.

‘I don’t believe that for a second, but lets talk about it Monday.’

You turned to Ellie. ‘Do you want to stay with me tonight?’ you asked, and she looked at you in alarm.

‘Why, is this bad?’ she asked, and you shook your head.

‘No, it’s fine, everyone is safe…it’s just that…’ you glanced over her shoulder to where the strangers had been frogmarched. ‘…that looks like it might take a while, and it’s already getting late.’

‘I can handle shit without Joel,’ Ellie huffed at you, and for a moment she looked so much like your sister you had to close your eyes, blink the memory out of them.

‘OK,’ you said, hands raised. ‘I just thought if you wanted company…listen, any time you want to come around you can, I don’t mind.’

Ellie thought for a second, following your gaze to the town hall. There wasn’t any shouting, any sounds of distress. It was likely safe, you knew that. You watched her calculate.

‘I can come by in the morning. I’ll come by to check on you,’ she offered. You felt a warmth in your chest.

‘I’d really appreciate that, thanks Ellie,’ you said. She nodded at you, happier now that her role as protector was assured.

‘Good night,’ she said. You watched as she turned back to her house, her eyes on the town hall the whole way, missing the way Dina watched after her until she disappeared out of view.

You took your hands out of your pockets to examine the tremble that you knew had nothing to do with cold. Something wasn’t sitting right, something heavy and hard on your chest, and you had to keep moving to shift it, had to keep jumping from one foot or the other to stop it settling on the bones and collapsing your sternum. She’s Sarah’s mom. You replayed it in your head over and over, heard Tommy’s voice echoing in your mind more than your own. She’s Sarah’s mom. Why did he look so shocked by that? Why did he immediately search for Joel?

You weren’t going to sleep, and you didn’t want to go home just to bounce against the walls on your own. You turned, the gate rearing up in front of you.

Billy greeted you with a grunt when you rounded the top of the ladder.

‘Not a great outfit for watching,’ he said, and you looked down at Maria’s dress, noticed a run in your stockings. You felt like you should have been cold but you weren’t, heat on your cheeks and burning in your belly.

‘Figured I might as well help out, make sure that’s all of them,’ you said.

‘I don’t wanna sleep neither,’ Billy said, turning back to the horizon.

‘What happened?’ you asked, fumbling for the old pair of binoculars, the set you preferred for its leather strap. You scanned the treeline, looking for movement in the dark.

‘Just emerged from the left,’ Billy said, motioning to the riverside. You focussed your binoculars and looked for tracks in the dirt, as if you could count the sets from this distance. ‘Come out waving, weren’t sneaking up on us. Were looking for my attention.’

‘For help?’ you asked, and Billy grunted. ‘The woman is hurt,’ you said.

‘Patrol’s going out at first light, check out that way, make sure it’s not an ambush.’

‘Trojan horse,’ you said, quietly.

‘Yeah, they’ll take a few of the horses, right enough,’ Billy said, and you smiled, privately.

‘You did some good work, Billy,’ you said, turning to him and examining his side profile. You had no idea how old he was, being that the apocalypse tended to age everyone ten years in a day, but you had to guess he was in his 60s. He’d been the one to open the gate for you on that first day you’d arrived, and he’d done it without suspicion and without fanfare, and all these years you had wanted to ask him why, why he didn’t interrogate, why he didn’t hesitate, but you weren’t sure what his answer would be so you preferred instead to believe that he’d seen something in you, that you’d reminded him of a lost relative, maybe even a daughter, that he had seen in you no ill will, no thirst for destruction. That he had just liked you, without being able to say why, but that alone was enough to let you in.

‘Ah, they practically came to me,’ he said, and you knew that the compliment had made him uncomfortable. He went quiet, turning to examine the right side.  ‘You ever see Tommy move that fast?’ he asked, after a while. You shook your head.

‘Scares me a little,’ you said, flexing your fingers to try and get the shakes out.

‘Mmhmm,’ Billy replied.

You heard footsteps approaching the gate, heavy and fast, but Billy had heard them first and was calling down the ladder. ‘We locked down,’ he called, his voice firm in the quiet of the night.

‘Let me out, Billy,’ Joel’s unmistakable voice grunted out, and you felt a flip in your tummy. You couldn’t see him from this angle, but you could picture him standing at the gate, one knee cocked to the side and his hands on his hips.

You watched Billy’s shoulders slump. He didn’t want to get into it, not at what had to be close to 2 in the morning and definitely not with Big Bad Joel Miller at the bottom of the ladder.

‘Can’t, council orders,’ Billy replied, swallowing. You swore you could hear Joel roll his eyes. ‘For everyone’s safety, y’understand,’ Billy went on.

‘I gotta check the perimeter, make sure…figure out if it was them.’

‘Patrol’s going out in the morning, talk to your brother about going out then.’

‘Ain’t waiting for them,’ Joel grunted. You shuffled over peer down at him, leaning over the railing to spy him without him seeing you.

‘Y’know I can’t let you-’

‘GODDAMNIT,’ Joel yelled, loud enough to knock snow off the highest peak and cause an avalanche to bury the whole sorry lot of you. ‘Let me out Billy, or I swear to God I will shoot my way out.’

‘It’s dark, Joel,’ you said, reacting with your spinal cord to the sound of his distress, stepping onto the first rung of the ladder and practically sliding your way to the ground. When you turned he was pacing, glaring at you. A wild animal, caged.

‘Don’t, not with you,’ he said, a sneered little warning that you immediately ignored.

‘It’s late, Joel, and it’s dark. You won’t see anything.’

‘I need to check the perimeter,’ he said, again, the muscles in his neck straining to contain his frustration, his fear.

‘We’re watching the treeline,’ you said, trying to appease him, and he paced again, three steps left and three steps right, both the pistol and the hair trigger.

‘Listen to me,’ he said, rounding on you with dark eyes, flinty and sharp. You saw it, then. Big Bad Joel Miller. You swallowed, willed yourself not to break his gaze. ‘There was something out there, weeks ago, you remember?’

You nodded, reminding yourself to relax your shoulders, to harden yourself to him.

‘There were tracks, within the perimeter, and I couldn’t tell how many sets…but I was damn sure there was more than one.’

You figured you just needed to keep him talking, that if he kept yelling at you at least he wasn’t trying to rip apart the gate with his teeth.

‘It was something, I fuckin’ told Gollum it was something. I don’t even know if it was them! But I gotta see, I gotta check it out.’

‘Joel, they’re patrolling first light…’ you tried, but he turned his shoulder to you, focusing back on the gate.

‘And if it wasn’t them then, who got to ‘em?’ he asked, but this time he was talking almost entirely to himself. ‘Who nearly took her? Who busted her arm?’ he said, after a long moment. You watched as the crack emerged up his middle, all of the anger starting to seep away. He turned back towards you, eyes on the ground and his brows saddled, his face nearing collapse.

‘Who is she, Joel?’ you asked, stepping in to his space to try and get him to look at you, wanting to put your arms around him, hold him close to you, tremble and shake against each other, let the friction arc bolts of lightning into the dark above your heads. He shook his head, but you took another step forward. ‘Who is Sarah?’ you asked, and gasped when his eyes snapped to you, his whole body rearing up on you like a snake leaping for its prey.

‘Not you,’ he said, and you swallowed, felt the tears welling up hot and desperate and pathetic behind your eyes. He gripped you by the biceps, almost but not quite hard enough to bruise. ‘You don’t say her name.’

You could hear your breath, high and tight, feel the pull across your throat. His eyes bore into you, and this close to him you could smell his cologne, watch his jaw tic as he gripped his fear in his teeth.

‘Joel,’ you whimpered, not scared of him, knowing in your heart he would never hurt you, but nevertheless feeling him slipping from you, watching him retract, the warmth gone in his eyes.

‘She doesn’t exist in this world, not with you,’ he said, again, and you found yourself nodding, not understanding, trying frantically to agree, to acquiesce, to pull him back from the cliff if you could only fucking see the jagged shore. 

‘Who is she, Joel?,’ you asked, and he pulled you in then, one hand wrapping to press into your back so that you crashed into him, his lips soft and quivering, little whimpers catching in his throat as he kissed you, pushed his tongue to open you, let you taste it, the terror and the grief, the loss of her, the acid and the sour, the acridity at the core of him, clambering up into his throat.

He pitched his anchor, prayed it would catch somewhere in you, that you would tug on the line and reel him in, pull him ashore and wipe the seawater from his eyes.

Blood splashed over a pink and purple tee-shirt. Curls caked with blood and mud.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, reality closing back in on him, the wash of the brine gathering at your ankles. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, because he wasn’t sure what he was sorry for except for all of it, because he couldn’t feel anything except for a pervasive remorse, just that everything had changed because nothing had, because Shauna was back and he had lost Sarah all over again when she did, twenty years and this one day saddled with her ghost. Because he was going to hurt you, even though he desperately didn’t want to, because you were so warm and you burned so bright and he was going to steal it from you, tuck it away between his ribs and cauterise his wounds with it. Because it wasn’t fair on you, so soft and so pretty and so snug in his arms. Because he wanted you, and because that never led anywhere he should be going. Not for him. Never for him.

You felt his grip loosen, felt him withdraw and step back. If you kept your eyes closed you could feel the linger of his kiss, of the scratch of his beard on your cheeks. If you kept your eyes closed you could still hear him, his gasps as he kissed you, the rustle of his jacket as he moved his arm to circle your back. If you kept your eyes closed you could ignore the sound of his receding footsteps, not have to see his back retreat from you as he hurried away.

--

Rose was the good sister, you knew this. There were times when you would have happily snapped her neck just to keep her quiet, others when you would have razed an entire township to the ground if anyone looked at her funny. You were her protector, her older sister, and you knew the moment she arrived squawking and indignant into the world that she was your reason. Keep her safe. Keep her alive. Keep her free.

It meant that while you were off making the tough decisions, off fighting the bullies back, off coming up with lies to feed her teachers as to why she was late to class again, she was in the world sweet, and loving, and open. Crying over dead baby birds in the driveway. Throwing still-wrapped granola bars into the trash in the belief that somehow it would get to a homeless person who needed it more. Doling out second chances to boys who hurt her like her pillow wasn’t saturated to the fibres with her tears.

She was better than you, kinder. When she was gone you struggled without a reason, still did on nights like this. You used to think her gentle nature was a weakness, and the last twenty years had shown you how wrong you were. That the strength she took to bend would have broken so many others. Including you.

You lay in your bed, listening for more alarms even as the sun rose over the mountain. You didn’t need Joel. You didn’t need anyone. Had got this far on your own. Thought back to the months you spent wondering on your own, no place to go, surviving just out of habit. That it led you to Tommy in the middle of the night, then to Jackson, then to home.

You were lonely but you were also used to it. You were forgetting the privilege loneliness was while others fought for their lives, for the safety you had enjoyed now for years. Selfishly held to your chest and then neglected the gift you had been given at the end of the world. You tossed and turned in your sheets, each side of your pillow too hot on your skin. If you had stripped off your shirt and examined your back in a mirror you wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see scorch marks where Joel had held you.

You weren’t Rose. So much of your life was proof of that.

--

The patrol came back the next morning reporting clear perimeters. You weren’t on the wall, but you heard the ripples of relief, felt the shift in the air as the town relaxed around you. If it was just the three of them, Shauna and the two men, and maybe they really had been just desperate and in need of help. Maybe there really was no threat. Maybe now the town could catch its breath. 

You weren’t really expecting to see Ellie, assumed that she would be subsumed in the chaos of the night before, so you were genuinely surprised when she knocked on your door. 

‘Promised to check in,’ she said, but she looked tired, and you wondered how much sleep she’d had, her alabaster skin already pale but ghostly now, in the warming morning light.

‘You want a coffee?’ you asked, leading her into your kitchen.

‘Blech, no fuckin’ way,’ she replied.

‘Did Joel…did you speak to Joel?’ you asked, and she half-nodded, half-shrugged.

‘He wasn’t exactly talkative,’ Ellie said, and you nodded. You had been coping on so little sleep but now suddenly with a teenager in your kitchen you felt the pull of gravity on your muscles. Your eyes stung, dry and swollen.

Ellie watched you as you hovered by the fridge. You felt like you should be fixing her something, but you were finding it impossible to. You looked in your pantry, unseeing. Eyed the apple you’d had sitting in your fruit bowl for at least the last week.

‘Not exactly talkative. That doesn’t sound like him,’ you half joked, and you watched as Ellie smiled, weakly at you.

‘I mean, it makes sense, it’s a big deal,’ she said, and you felt yourself stiffen. ‘I mean, if the mother of my dead daughter showed up unannounced I’d be…’

You didn’t notice Ellie had stopped talking, that she had come to your side to steady you, that you were swaying a little beside your kitchen counter.

‘He…daughter?’ you asked and watched as the panic spread across Ellie’s face.

‘Oh shit,’ she said, ‘he didn’t tell you.’ You shook your head. ‘He didn’t fuckin’ tell me either, if that makes you feel any better,’ she said, and it did, sort of.

‘I mean, he doesn’t have to tell me anything,’ you said, but you were barely hearing yourself, barely aware of the words even as your mouth formed them.

‘It was…the first day of the outbreak,’ Ellie went on. ‘She was 14.’

You shuddered, a chill running up your spine. ‘Oh, Ellie,’ you said, but she was waving you off.

‘Trust me, I’ve been there already, done the whole dead-daughter replacement thing. It’s not that, I don’t think.’

‘He cares about you so deeply,’ you reassured her, agreed with her, and you watched as the teenage girl in front of you nodded in understanding.

‘I know he does.’

‘He’d do anything.’

‘I know he would, I think he already has,’ she said.

You barely heard her, your brain still trying to catch up, running back over all of your conversations with him, all of the moments in the kitchen, of him cooking for you and insisting you stay to eat, of his loitering and interrupting your tutoring, of his terror for Ellie, of his need to keep his eye always on the horizon because of it.

You wanted to go to him, wrap yourself around him, tuck yourself under his chin and make him promise you it wouldn’t change things. Knew that it would never be the same, knew that your kiss last night was a goodbye, knew that you had felt it then but hadn’t wanted to admit it to yourself. That he had gripped you like his life depended on it, crashed his mouth into yours to try and hold onto a reality already slipping from his grasp.

‘Don’t think they were together when it happened,’ Ellie supplied. ‘He never talked about her.’ Your ears were ringing. You pinched your nostrils shut and blew. It didn’t lessen it. Why didn’t it lessen it? ‘I’m really sorry,’ Ellie said.

You wanted to hold his face in your hands and tell him he was a good Dad. That you saw that in him when you looked at Ellie. You wanted to turn your back on all of it, on him and Ellie and fucking Shauna, wanted to put miles and miles between you and Jackson. Wanted to be with Rose and your Mum and Dad, wanted to lift your hand to the sky and have them take it.

You realised you hadn’t said anything in a while, looking over at Ellie to realise with considerable alarm that she was comforting you, that you were the adult but that she was the one trying to keep you both on the rails.

What would Rose do? Think of that, then do the opposite.  

You swallowed, standing up straight and ignoring the way the room swam.

‘It’s going to be OK,’ you announced, to the both of you, turning to the fridge and pulling out supplies to make a sandwich, the ingredients of which you would figure out any minute. ‘You hungry?’ you asked.

‘It definitely is going to be OK,’ Ellie said, eying your back with concern. You turned to her with a block of cheese and a loaf of bread in your hand, and she nodded at you in case you snapped and bludgeoned her to death with it.

‘If it helps, I think he really liked you,’ she supplied.

It didn’t.

Taglist (let me know if you want me to add you)

@harriedandharassed

@vickie5446

@kaseyconnour

@orcasoul

@missladym1981

@spacesoutdaydreamer

@tangled-tumbler-blog-blog

@fancyyoouu

@anoverwhelmingdin

@millersamour

@delicatetrashtree

[gluion]

the book of us ➵ masterlist

non-idol!zerobaseone x afab reader (they/them)

listen closely to the stories of zb1 as they find themselves entangled in lives filled with friendships, passions, hardships, love, and of course, music!

general genre/warnings ➵ lots of fluff, some angst, expect crack, they/them pronouns <3, band au, a mix of college, fresh graduates, and highschool aus, crazy case of loserism from the zb1 guys (as it should be), music is the connecting factor <3 make sure to read every story's respective genre/warnings

additional notes ➵ stories can be read as standalones but it's highly encouraged to read through all! all previous and upcoming y/ns will be referred to as __!y/n titles and synopsis are subject to change but plots/genres are pretty set

word count ➵ projected to be 10-15k words per story under side a, 5-10k words per story under side b

a/n ➵ happy 500 followers! you cannot separate me from my zb1 guys and day6... i'm excited for this series so please send strength my way <3 i hope you guys stay seated for this series :D thank u again to @vernyangel and @shegotthewoobies for the support and helping me create this universe! always remember that reblogging helps a ton and will help me gain traction :3

want to be part of the series taglist? fill out the form! masterlist

SIDE A

TRACK 1: home is found in you ➵ kim gyuvin

when kim gyuvin is forced to volunteer at a animal shelter, the last thing he expects is to be compared to a rescued dog. (and to fall in love with you.) — strangers to lovers to exes to lovers, small town au, summer au, fluff, angst, based on “i smile” by day6

TRACK 2: the ballad of a lovestruck friend ➵ seok matthew

while everyone seems to know who seok matthew’s crush is, he refuses to reveal the identity to you. (now, why’s everyone calling you dense?) — friends to lovers, university au, fluff, based on “i like you” by day6

TRACK 3: the plotted invisible string ➵ kim taerae

if kim taerae had any regrets, it would be not asking out his first love. luckily for him, he’s got another shot now. (how’s he going to mastermind it this time?) — strangers to friends to lovers, highschool & university au, fluff, crack, based on “wanna go back” & “chocolate” by day6

TRACK 4: on (your) strings ➵ zhang hao

if there’s anything zhang hao hated, it’s double harmonics, paganini’s caprice no. 24, and the annoying viola player in orchestra. (so why can’t he stop thinking about you?) — enemies to lovers, university (master’s) au, fluff, angst, based on “i wait” by day6

TRACK 5: first day(s) on the job ➵ kim jiwoong

although kim jiwoong is set to impress his boss, he’s unlucky to be assigned with the clueless intern who seems to always cause a mess. (maybe you two wouldn’t be staying in your jobs for that long.) — strangers to lovers, workplace au, crack, fluff, angst, based on “man in a move” by day6

SIDE B

TRACK 6: eye for talent ➵ shen quanrui/ricky

as ricky plans to invest in the next big band, his eyes are set on the university crowd’s favorite bar for their breakthrough. (and the owner who always says no to him.) — strangers to lovers, university au, fluff, angst, based on “emergency” by day6

TRACK 7: lost in translation ➵ park gunwook

although park gunwook wants to make his name in underground hiphop scene, he’s set on meeting the respected, masked rapper that took the community by a storm. (it just so happens that he didn’t know he fucked up his first meeting with you.) — strangers to lovers, university au, crack, fluff, based on “what can i do?” by day6

TRACK 8: 8,000 kilometers worth ➵ sung hanbin

if there’s one thing sung hanbin wasn’t expecting, it’s being kept far away from you. (did you two have what it takes to sustain it?) — established relationship, angst, based on “about now” by day6

TRACK 9: slowly bruising but healing ➵ han yujin

han yujin’s biggest enemy is himself, but you’re here to remind him of his worth amidst a sea of criticism. (all you can hope is that he’ll listen to your voice as he hopes the same for you.) — platonic, highschool au, angst, coming-of-age, based on “marathon” by day6

taglist ➵ @kflixnet @blankjournal

[froznwater]

im so sorry this is incredibly random but if i dont write alenoah i WILL die but i cant think of anything to write. do u have any simple ideas. ignore if not

HI!!! tysm for your ask <3 i hope you can find something to write amongst all the ideas. These are a bunch of ideas have written down in my notes/google drive/tumblr posts and have not got gotten around to. I still might at some point in time but feel free to use them. I will still do my own take if I get the time/motivation. There's simply so many, why not share and inspire some fics :)

----

General ideas:

Noah knows/learns spanish. Bonus points if Alejandro isn't aware until the perfect moment.

Alejandro thinks he can get away with flirting with Noah in spanish. Noah starts shit talking in spanish. Noah learns so he can hear all the little comments Alejandro keeps making under his breath. etc. so many possibilities.

Now that the show is over and Noah's off to college, he realizes he’s missing something in his life. Maybe it’s his friends, maybe it’s a lack of ever-looming danger, OR maybe it’s Alejandro. Who fucking knows. He’s too busy trying not to be in love with Alejandro to figure it out. 

Their group project is failing, horribly. There’s one thing Noah knows for certain: Alejandro's to blame. At what point does slippery eel turn into a term of endearment?

They have never ever fallen asleep next to each other. Let alone in each other's arms. Never.

Time loop where Alejandro is stuck on the episode where Noah gets voted out and sticks himself to falling in love because he can’t let go of his pride long enough to simply let Noah stay in the game and move on.

Noah loses his contacts and starts wearing his glasses more often. Alejandro notices. Everyone notices Alejandro notices.

Alejandro and Noah team up to get their friends together (insert whatever ship you like) and end up together in the process/the other two were trying to do the same thing for them.

A commentary timeline on how Alejandro's charisma turn into exploitation, how Noah's patience turned into indifference, and how they parallel each other. (I've written a few hundred words for this one lol.)

Each thinks the other doesn't like them. Cut to third party POV that watches and witnesses them completely a mess for each other.

Noah, once voted out in I See London, learns about Alejandro's family. Who have been very vocal since the show started airing.

Exploration of how Alejandro tries really really hard. Yes, He's at the top of the class, but so is Noah. Noah who sleeps through classes and doesn't turn in homework and shows up late or simply not at all and is still right up there with him.

“I would kill to be like you. To just absorb all the information fed to me. If I were you I might actually- “(beat my brother) “Might actually what?” “I told you. I don’t want to talk about it, Noah.” - "Do you know how long I studied for that test? Hours. And you- You got a 96 with no effort at all." It was a 98. But this seems like a bad time to correct him.

Dialogue one-liners prompts i've written down:

"If we make it out of this alive, I'm going to kiss you."

“Why do I feel like I cant say no to you?”

"I know you don't actually care about me, but thank you for trying to pretend that you do." (Said by Noah is joking. Said by Alejandro is bitter.)

"You can't win against someone who has nothing to lose."(Alejandro OR Noah angst.)

Soulmate aus:

My big two: Telepathy/Mentally linked.(imagine this one as a wt rewrite omg) And Whatever you draw on yourself shows up on your soulmate. Matching tattoos.

First words on each other. (I've done this one already here. but feel free to do it as well!!)

Communicating through dreams. (If you know cardcaptor sakura; like that.)

General AUs:

Until dawn AU.

Gakuen Alice AU.

My Babysitters A Vampire AU. Zombie Apoc AU.

Harry Potter AU. Reality Dating Show AU.

Infinity Train AU!!!!!!

Veronica Mars AU!!!! (i wanna do this one ALOT noah is sooo veronica LMAO) OBLIGATORY IDEAS:

seven minutes in heaven.

wrong number.

trapped in a closet.

movie night. noah is sitting under alejandro and lol they are physically, platonically touching for awhile. (leads to finally getting together).

one gets injured, the other fixes them up in the nurses office :P.

short "prompt-ishs" i've started writing:

“What the hell is your problem, Alejandro?” And this time, the tone was so disgusted, so bitter, that something snapped, deep in Alejandro’s chest.

Fuck it.

“What’s my problem?” He asked, incredulous. “What’s my problem? You’ve got to be kidding me, Courtney. I almost died. I almost died, paralyzed and alone, and the only friend I thought I had didn’t give a single shit! The only person who cared was Noah, of all people. I quite literally come back to life and the only thing you can do is whine about your girlfriend problems.”

Courtney takes a step back.

“I was stuck in a robot for months, my legs barely work, my family moved on- actually, I don’t know if they ever actually even noticed,” He laughs, broken, “- and you have the audacity to ask me what my problem is?!”

Alejandro is over playing nice. He’s had enough.

-

this one is a rivals team up to get out courtney blurb

little idea about Alejandro getting into zodiacs.

moments where alejandro questions why Noah is so attractive

-

SEND MORE ASKS IF ANYONE HAS ANY QUESTIONS ON ANY OF THESE IDEAS!!! / IF THEY HAVE ANY IDEAS OR CONCEPTS TO ADD OR EXPAND ON :)))

[wayfaringhoax]

Riddles

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Female Reader

Click here for part two

Word count: 12k+

Summary: You and Frankie become ‘friends with benefits’ until you evolve into something more. But when you can’t seem to communicate your needs, you find yourselves in uncharted territory.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Interact

Explicit sexual content (p in v, female receiving oral, dirty talk, semi-public sex, sexting, sending nude photos), references to sex scattered throughout, swearing, unhealthy relationships, making each other jealous, communication issues, discussions of low self-esteem, conflicted emotions, angst, possessive! Frankie, reader wears Frankie’s t-shirt, consumption of alcohol, references to religion and drugs (purely for metaphorical purposes), public discussions of sex, reader is described as having a vagina and breasts. 

This is a reader insert fic, but there are a few plot details that lean towards an OFC. Reader's mentioned as having two parents, letting their hair 'down' after work, and one of their friends is given a name. If any of these details make you uncomfortable, please refrain from reading.

New to the community, so this hasn’t been beta’d.

Been working on this for a few weeks, please let me know if you enjoy it!

Get coffee, meeting, reply to emails, meeting, lunch, marketing proposal, planning period, meeting.

As you opened your planner that morning, you were greeted by your responsibilities for the day. However, each damn meeting brought you one step closer to the end of the work day, and subsequently one step closer to leaving your office and heading to Benny’s Fight Night.

Due to your busy schedule, you hadn’t been able to make it to one of his fights for a while so you often resorted to wishing him luck via a text message. Having the chance to actually be there and support him in person was therefore a big deal for you. Plus, you’d also have the chance to grill the eldest Miller brother, having set him up on a date with your friend a few weeks ago, only to have her tell you it didn’t work out. You knew Will would be prepared for you to press him, and being as stoic as he was, you anticipated that he wouldn’t reveal much.

How many times had they reprimanded you for attempting to play matchmaker?

You couldn’t help it. It was only natural for you to want the best for them, you’d shared so much of your life with them, and they’d been by your side when it counted.

Of course, you were only a kid when you first met the Miller brothers. When your parents had befriended theirs, you were quick to latch on to them, glad to have two little friends to annoy. You often spent holidays chasing them around their home, and they enjoyed bringing their LEGO to yours, much to the dismay of your poor mother, who wasn’t prepared for how much mess they’d bring.

Sure, shit got real when you got older.

After you graduated from college, you threw yourself into work. You successfully climbed up the ranks, securing enough money to live comfortably. Though you admit, you had to sacrifice a lot in the process, regularly denying yourself the chance to be happy - to be loved - in the name of prioritising your career. 

Every time you wake up in the middle of the night, yearning for the comfort of another body, you’re reminded of the loneliness that sometimes plagues you.

Benny and Will weren’t strangers to the feeling either. You’d been around to see the darkness that followed them home from deployment. The darkness that tarnished some of their ability to accept love. The same darkness that made them hold on to you that little bit tighter, now very much acquainted with the feeling of loss.

You would never be able to understand what it was like for them. Never be able to fully comprehend the extent of their trauma. Some part of you knew that for Benny and Will, relationships weren’t as simple as they used to be.

But that didn’t stop you from trying to set them up. You appreciated that your attempts were futile, they were just gestures of good faith, really. They communicated that you cared. That you wanted them to be happy - and they saw that for what it was: their friend looking out for them.

On the other hand, Benny and Will rarely tried to set you up on dates, understanding that the guys they knew wouldn’t be the right fit for you.

Despite this, they made sure to constantly remind you that you weren’t getting laid.

An issue you were sure they’d raise again, at some point this evening.

It wasn’t as though you weren’t looking. 

Respectfully, you’d found most of the boys’ friends attractive, and perhaps, there was one man from their Delta Force squad, in particular, who’d caught your eye.

A man with a serious attachment to his baseball cap.

A man who seems burdened by his affliction, shouldering the weight of it all by himself. 

A man who was just so gorgeous, yet often chose to play it safe, hanging back when in the presence of the other boys.

Yes, Francisco Morales. Or Frankie, as the boys called him. 

You had looked at Frankie. Many times. He’d definitely caused you to lose your train of thought more than once, having been mesmerised by his features; strong yet with a particular softness. 

Whilst you acknowledged your attraction to this man, you got the sense that he wasn’t available. 

Benny had never mentioned a wife or a girlfriend when he spoke about Frankie, but you still felt as though there was some kind of invisible wall up, preventing you from getting any closer. 

Besides, you were going to support Benny tonight, not ogle his friend. You could keep it under control. 

Or at least you tried, yet the way Frankie let out a soft chuckle as Benny teased you about becoming a crazy cat lady, was testing your patience.

Now, you were avoiding his gaze, afraid of having to confront your attraction to the man across the locker room. This was proving to be quite easy, as Benny’s enquiry into your (lack of a) sex life had you staring up at the ceiling in embarrassment, hoping the ground would swallow you whole. 

“C’mon, I’m only looking out for you here. You gotta break the dry spell soon, else it’ll become even harder to get back out there.”

Benny continues his onslaught, deciding to raise the point that if he didn’t fight for a while, he’d simply have no skill when he got back in the ring.

Frustrated, you roll your eyes at his comparison before telling him, “That’s unfair, Benny.”

Santiago chooses this moment to weigh in, reassuring you, “Bonita, you could have any guy you wanted, huh? What’s stopping you?”, and before you have the chance to speak, Benny jumps in on your behalf.

“That’s what I keep telling her, but she keeps making up all these issues. Worrying too much.”

“Well these issues are real concerns for me. I don’t want a relationship right now, but one-night stands aren’t for me either. There’s too many unknowns with hookups. Do you know how many married guys take their rings off just so they can take girls home for a night?”, you tell Benny incredulously, trying to communicate the extent of your concern.

Benny senses your ire, beginning to back off slightly, yet not before proposing, “Why don’t you just get a fuck buddy? Then you can get laid all you want. Problem solved.”

Sure, the prospect was very appealing to you. Someone you could count on to give you orgasms and not have to worry about the strings attached? 

You’d sign yourself up right now. 

The problem was, where would you find such a man? You shuddered at the thought of returning to the dating apps, having had enough interesting encounters on there to put you off using them again.

Turns out Benny had his own solution to that problem, choosing this moment to turn his attention to his friend who was currently leaning against the lockers, arms folded against his chest. It was almost as though Frankie could sense what was coming next, as he retreated further back into himself, looking down at the floor in a futile attempt to avoid being targeted by his younger friend.

“Hey, Fish is right there. He’s been hard up for god knows how long now. Why don’t you scratch each other’s backs, huh?”

Right now, he was cursing himself for having one too many beers that night at Santi's house, when he’d opened up to the guys about his sexual frustration.

“Jesus Christ”, groans Frankie, his eyes looking at Benny disapprovingly.

Turns out you two did have something in common, as you both looked as though you could kill Benny with your stares. The younger Miller, however, was sporting a grin that would rival the Cheshire Cat’s, thoroughly pleased with himself.

With the attention span of an excitable puppy, Benny was quick to move on. You guess it had something to do with the way Will was looking at him, the subtle tilt of his head gesturing to Benny that he needed to get his head back in the game.

But that didn’t stop you from wanting to die of embarrassment. 

Sure, Benny had a fight to focus on, but you had to survive a couple more hours in Frankie’s presence. 

You pushed the strap of your bag further up your shoulder, hoping that having something to hold on to would quell the anxiety bubbling in your stomach. Straightening your posture, you hazard a glance over at where Frankie’s stood, only to realise he’s not there.

Pushing open the double doors, you exit the locker room and spot Frankie, way ahead of you, and his steps are somewhat urgent as he catches up to Santi.

Shrugging it off, you find your seat and wait for the fight to commence.

****

He’s struggling.

Frankie’s still reeling from Benny’s comment. He knows the only reason Benny said that was to rile you up, and he knows he shouldn’t still be thinking about it now. But he just can’t get the way you looked tonight out of his head.

He grabs himself a beer and settles onto his couch, before allowing images of you to flood his head; the late-night news report swiftly forgotten.

He imagines your hair, slightly tousled after a long day at work. It was extremely sexy, to him; the image of you letting your hair down as you leave the office. It signified you letting loose, and he could only imagine what it would be like to have you lose control around him. God, he’d give anything to run his hands through it as you looked up at him with those eyes. 

Fuck, you were gorgeous. 

Frankie’s got it bad for you. Has done for quite some time now. Ever since he was introduced to you at Benny’s birthday party last year, you had taken over all of his fantasies. Being around you consumed all of his energy, as he often fought hard enough to play it cool whenever you spoke to him; always worrying he’d scare you off with his dark wit. 

And for Benny to joke that he had a chance with you? Well, that was cruel. 

He managed to make an escape from the locker room before you noticed, latching onto Pope in an attempt to recompose himself.

You were far too good for him.

He had baggage; struggles he was still working through. 

You, on the other hand, were stable. With a successful career, a solid group of friends and a pretty house at the end of the block, you intimidated him. 

Frankie often wondered how you had spent so much of your adult life around the Millers, seen the damage that had been done to them, and yet you still had a certain innocence about you. It was like you had seen first-hand just how unforgiving the universe could be, but you still saw purpose beyond the pain.

Yep, he needed to stay away from you.

Deciding to push his demons aside for the moment, Frankie casts his mind back to the times he’d tried, and clearly failed, to put the moves on you.

There had been the brush of his hand on your waist as you walked by him in Will’s kitchen to get another beer. And the time you fell asleep on Benny’s sofa, he had shuffled closer, allowing your head to rest ever so slightly in his lap. Frankie also recalls each time he’d driven you home from the bar, only driving away when he saw you head inside. As you sat in his passenger seat, Frankie came to the conclusion that your presence was downright intoxicating. Therefore, he always volunteered to be the designated driver in the hopes he could drink up more of you.

It was getting late. Late enough that he could put all this down to being some kind of a fever dream.

Frankie’s about to head up to bed, when his phone lights up with a text message.

A text message from you.

Yeah, this was definitely feeling like a surreal experience.

He decides to bite the bullet and glances down at your message.

Hey, Frankie. Just wanna say sorry about before. We all know Benny loves to tease, but I hope he didn’t make you uncomfortable. Hopefully see you soon! x

Frankie’s not quite sure what you have to apologise for, and frankly, his attention was elsewhere; on the last four words of your text. God, he hoped to see you again.

He sends his reply swiftly.

Hey, you don’t need to be sorry. I’ve definitely had worse thrown at me by the boys. Don’t worry about it. Hope you enjoyed the fight?

Frankie knows he’s pushing his luck, but he adds that little question mark hoping you’d take the bait to talk to him for a little longer.

You reply almost instantaneously, much to Frankie’s delight.

Yeah, it was great! Once I stopped wanting to kill Benny. Until then I was kinda rooting for the other guy. Promise you won’t tell him? 

Can’t promise anything, Cariño, came Frankie’s response. 

Your humour almost seemed like flirting, and Frankie would be a fool not to try, so after hitting send, he relaxes back into the couch whilst awaiting your response.

Huh. Knew I couldn’t trust a man with the name Francisco.

Fuck. Frankie was immediately consumed by visions of you - saying his name. 

Imagining how his name would sound coming from those perfect lips of yours caused something to stir deep down in his gut. 

Get it together, Frankie. Get it together. 

He found it a little harder to type his next words.

Not many men you can trust these days. But you deserve to be with one who takes good care of you.

He hadn’t intended to get so deep so quickly, but the thought of you being hurt in the past caused an unpleasant feeling to grow in his chest. You were so beautiful, so good. You had your whole life ahead of you. Whichever asshole had broken your trust in the past didn’t deserve to be breathing right now, Frankie was certain.

You take a little longer to reply, causing Frankie to doubt himself for a moment before his phone lights up again.

Thanks, Frankie. I feel like I really needed to hear that. You deserve to be loved, too. 

The sincerity of your words almost knocked the wind right out of him. Pleasantly surprised at the turn his evening took, Frankie longed to draw more of those confessions from you. 

Pope’s right, you know. You could have any guy you wanted, Bonita. 

The Frankie who hadn’t gotten anywhere with you before was not expecting the response you gave.

Any guy, huh?

And before he has time to process your insinuation, you send another text.

Even you? 

Oh, he wasn’t prepared for you to say that. So understandably, his response is delayed.

Shit, he needs to tread carefully here, he thinks, as he eventually composes his next few words.

Cariño, you need to be careful what you say to me. I don’t do well with riddles. 

On edge, Frankie’s composure is wavering. He’s definitely not prepared when he spots an incoming call from you yet he doesn’t hesitate to pick up.

“Hi…I, uh…I don’t even know what I’m doing Frankie.”, your words are soon followed by a soft, yet nervous, laugh.

“Do you wanna come over?”

Frankie swears he hears the breath leave his lungs, before all but moaning out, “Yeah.”

“Be there in 15.”

****

Of all the things you thought you’d be doing at 2 am on a Friday night, giving Frankie directions to your house wouldn’t have been your first guess. 

What were you thinking? You became a woman possessed. The dark timbre of his voice had caused a warm, fuzzy feeling to grow in your tummy, and before you knew it, you had invited him over for a late-night booty call.

You keep your hands busy, clearing up some of the mess in your bedroom when the realisation hits you. You were going to have sex with Frankie. 

Is this really happening?

The doorbell rings and you soon realise that - yes - this does seem to be happening, and it’s happening right now.

Like the cat about to get its cream, you slink to the door to let him in. You’re hoping your face doesn’t betray your eagerness as you greet Frankie with a smile. 

He takes a moment to assess your features, apprehensive that you may have changed your mind whilst he was driving over. Finding only a hint of shyness in your otherwise confident persona, he knows he’s made the right call. Frankie needs to see you move first. He’s not going to enter your apartment until he knows you want him in there. 

Luckily for him, you turn your body to the side slightly, allowing him to see further into your apartment. You take a step back; it’s an invitation that needs no words - it simply says, chase me. See what you’ll find. 

And he does. But not before looking away from you and rolling his eyes ever so slightly. You don’t know if he’s amused or frustrated, but you know you’ve got him right where you need him when he crosses your welcome mat.

His eyes return to you, then, and he gives you an assured nod. It’s Frankie’s way of asking you what your next move is. After all, he’s on your turf right now. 

Desperate to break the silence, you tell him, “Thanks for coming, I know it’s late.”. Choosing that moment to head to your bedroom, you lead the way. Hoping. Wanting. Praying he’ll follow you.

Frankie follows. He follows you blindly - like a disciple on a mission - trusting that wherever he’ll end up, it will be worth it. 

When he reaches your doorway, he’s greeted by a sight so divine, he’s forced to rethink his stance as an agnostic. 

You’re kneeling on the bed, stretching over to switch on the light, when he admires the way your back is arched like a feline wanting to play. He sees your mischief. And, as your shoulders dip low, he becomes hung up on the view of your ass in this position. He definitely wants to play, too.

The tension gets thicker and thicker as Frankie advances forward. He wants to test the waters; see what you do next. But he also wants to dive in headfirst and lap up your sweetness like a man starved. Frankie is a man starved, and he’s losing resolve with every passing second in your presence.

Of course, he’s delighted when you turn to face him again. You kneel on the bed, right in front of him this time, sitting back on your legs with your hands behind your back. You push your chest forward and sit up tall in a way that almost short-circuits Frankie’s brain. You look so submissive; preening and proud to put your body on display for him. So eager to learn, to please him. 

He knows you’re toying with him. You look so innocent sitting like that, but Frankie also knows you’re playing naughty. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way, though. Your moxie had his cock aching in his pants. 

Cautiously, Frankie rakes his eyes over your body, trying to figure out your next move. The soft glow of light in the room gives you an advantage, however, and you manage to catch him off guard. 

He’s too focused on the way you bite your bottom lip to notice your hands on his belt buckle.

Frankie thinks you’ll unbuckle it, yet you surprise him again as you use it to pull his body flush to yours. You’re on the bed and he’s stood up, and you adore the way he’s making you feel so small and pliant right now.

Sporting a mischievous grin of his own now, Frankie moves his lips to your neck.

“Don’t thank me yet, baby. Not until you’re cumming all over my tongue.” 

How’s a girl supposed to respond to that?

By some miracle, you manage to stay upright on the bed, and you decide you need to regain control of the situation before Franke dirty-talks you to death. 

“Francisco…”, you purr devilishly, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Frankie lets out a sinful groan; with just enough impatience to let you know he’s yours. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be right now than hanging on to every word you say. He can tell you’re being bratty. He loves it. Loves the way you’re taunting him, waiting for the moment he snaps and fucks you how you need to be fucked.

You repeat Frankie’s earlier words to you. “So…I could have any guy I wanted, huh? You really think so?”

Frankie thinks your smile looks a little bashful, for a second, before he notices the way you’re running your tongue across your bottom lip as you toy with the neck of his t-shirt. There’s a glint of something in your eyes. Your smile. That tells him he’s clueless as to the game you’re playing tonight, yet you’re definitely playing him. 

And, well, Frankie’s down for the ride. At this point, he’d promise you the world just to get a taste of the heaven between your thighs. 

Refocusing, he decides that’s what he needs to do.

“Cariño… so needy. You got my attention. All of it. No need to play up.”, says Frankie in a heady whisper.

You realise, then, that you may have underestimated the man in front of you.

But you definitely aren’t prepared for what he says next.

“On your back, baby. Panties off. Let’s see if you’re still an impatient little brat after you get your pussy eaten.”

Unable to form words, you get to the task at hand, dragging your lacy panties down your legs. You swear you can feel your skin throbbing as your hands skim your thighs. There’s nothing he could ask of you right now that would be too much, you decide, as you settle onto your back. 

He’s still fully clothed, and it’s almost like he senses your concern as he suddenly begins to undress. Starting with his t-shirt, he moves with urgency; afraid he’ll miss something if he takes his eye off you for a second. His hands reach for his belt, and you’re trying your best not to drool at the way he looks right now. Hair ruffled from your touch, chest heaving in anticipation of the pleasure you’re teasing of, and eyes glossy and wide. You’re simply mesmerised by the way this man looks when he’s affected. You’ve only ever seen him composed, playing it cool. You’ve never witnessed Frankie lose it, but you’re hoping that’s subject to change. Soon.

“Frankie…”, you beg. “Don’t keep me waiting, baby.”

Despite the way your impatience amuses Frankie, he decides he can’t wait any longer and dives down, using his hands to pry your legs open.

He nips the inside of your thigh, just far enough from where you need him to have you arching your back already; like a creature in heat.

You’re dying to express that you disapprove of his teasing, but you figure you should probably be a good girl considering he’s about to take care of you.

However, Frankie’s not done. His kisses trail higher, and as he reaches your knee, he places kisses there too, as he huffs out a demand. 

“You’re gonna be a good girl and give me all those pretty moans of yours. Take what I give you. Be grateful.” The way he emphasises those final two words tells you he’s not messing around, and you’re ashamed of the way you moan at the authority in his voice.

“Yes, baby. I’ll try to be good…. for you.”, you say. 

“Try, huh?”, is his response, as he reaches for a pillow, tapping your hip as a signal for you to lift them up. He places the pillow underneath your hips, and you’re ready to melt as he uses his thumb to rub firm circles into the spot just beneath your right breast. He applies a good amount of pressure, and all you can think about is how completely at his mercy you are right now; squirming underneath him in desperation. 

Frankie finally uses that tongue of his. But it’s not where you need it…yet. 

He draws your nipple into his mouth, sporting a smug grin as he does so. You want to scream. You can feel just how puffy and swollen your pussy is from the lack of attention it's receiving. As you feel it clench around nothing, you buck up against him whilst he continues to tease you. He’s sucking the peak into his mouth, drawing his tongue around in torturously slow circles, before releasing it with an audible pop. Frankie moves to continue his ministrations with your other breast, and in your petulance, you make the mistake of fighting him.

You hook your left leg around the back of his, trying to position your aching centre against the rough denim of his jeans; desperate for some friction.

But Frankie had been expecting you to challenge him. He’s seen your spark when you’d both been out with the other guys, it was one of the things that drew him to you in the first place. He recalls how you’d light up when you became competitive, you’d find ways to provoke your opponent yet you were able to mask it well. You’d get all giggly and cute, playing it off like you just got a bit over excited, and Santi, or whatever poor schmuck had gone up against you, would give in to you. Often letting you win. 

Well, Frankie wasn’t giving in that easily.

His hand shoots out to hold your left thigh open, whilst he uses his leg to pin down the other one; keeping you splayed out just how he wanted. You’re taken aback by his strength and you can’t deny it makes your pussy even needier. You need him, and your frustration has made you bold enough to tell him.

“Frankie, baby.”, you whine. “Need your mouth on it. On my pussy.”

He lets out a dark chuckle at that. And he decides to punish your brattiness with silence. You’re easy to read, to him, and he knows you’re liking the way he’s running his mouth whilst in your bed. But you’re reaching for too much, and he’s got to show some resistance for both of your sakes. 

Of course, Frankie would give you anything, but he’s not sure what your intentions were for inviting him into your bed. He assumes you’re after a no-strings-attached arrangement, and he’s gonna need to keep you wanting more if he’s to keep you. 

Pushing the thought aside for now, he focuses on his next move: giving you what you need. 

After what feels like a century, Frankie finally dips his head down to where you’re dripping for him. He’s sure he’s never seen a pussy so sweet and so responsive. He’s not even touched you there and he can see you clenching around nothing. 

His thick fingers part your folds and the way his breath ghosts over you has you crying out to him. 

“Ngghhh…fuck. Need it.”, you draw out in a frustrated giggle, and at this moment, Frankie thinks - no he knows - that you’ve ruined all other women for him. You sound so sexy, like a little vixen, but at the same time, there’s a sweetness about you that’s humbling.

Frankie decides he needs to reassure you. “Shhhh, Cariño. I’ve got you. You’ll get what you need.”

And you do get what you need, as Frankie forces your legs open even wider before licking a thick stripe all the way from your fluttering hole to your throbbing clit with his tongue - and the noise you make is untamed. 

He takes his time, opening you up on his tongue. He knows you need his fingers inside but he’s not sure you deserve it just yet. 

Frankie admires the way your pretty pussy is shy at first - like you - as he uses soft kitten licks to loosen you up. Your juices taste heavenly, and he laps up every ounce that flows from the core of you. Eventually, you relax into his mouth and your moans become more desperate. You need more and you communicate this by pulling Frankie in even deeper, your hands tight in his hair. 

“Jesus Christ”, he groans. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

“Fingers, Frankie. I need your fingers.”, you plead, hoping he’ll take pity on you. 

And he does, by some miracle, pressing two inside you and immediately curling them up. You’re soon ready for another, and he adds a third, causing you to pout at him as your orgasm grows closer. The way you’re trying your best to ride his fingers, yet also sink further back into the bed like a pillow princess, is endearing to Frankie, as he can’t help but watch how you take him. Fuck, you’re beautiful like this. Underneath him. He needs you to come on his fingers and his tongue and he decides he can’t wait much longer.

“There you go, pretty girl. You’ve got something to clench down on. Something to cum on.”, says Frankie, and his words have your eyes rolling back. He’s got a dirty mouth and it’s doing all the right things to you.

He moves his mouth back to your clit, sucking it into his mouth. Applying the perfect amount of pressure, he’s got you whining out his name as you stretch your arms above your head, gripping the pillow you find there to anchor you - otherwise, you’re sure you’ll float away. 

It doesn’t take Frankie much longer to push you to the edge, and he gets a little rougher, much to your delight. You’re suddenly thankful for the pillow you’re grabbing onto, as his hands grip both of your ass cheeks, pulling your cunt up to his mouth and there’s nowhere for you to run. His grip is unrelenting; all you can do is lie there and take it as his tongue lashes against your clit. The absence of his fingers leaves you feeling empty, though you’re not complaining, as the way he’s clutching your hips allows him to really wreck you with his mouth. And what a mouth that man has. 

You’re writhing on the bed, your orgasm so close that your body’s going crazy; arching and stretching as it tries to hit that spot to send you over the edge. It comes as no surprise, however, that Frankie’s words finish you off.

“That’s it, baby. Know you need to cum. Need it so bad you’re whimpering for it.”

“Come on now, give it to me. I know you can. Cum and I’ll give you my fingers to ride it out on.”, he says, and you cum. Hard. 

“Frankie. Oh my god, Frankie”, you moan out like a madwoman and Frankie plunges his fingers back into your pussy as you cum all over his face. 

You can’t help but chase every wave of your high, and you push your cunt down on his fingers like you can’t get enough of what he’s giving you. Somehow, you’re able to remember what Frankie told you before, and you begin to chant “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” as you ride out your orgasm. 

There’s a cheeky smile playing on your lips and Frankie lets out his own throaty chuckle at your sass. And that’s when it hits him. 

One time isn’t enough. 

He can’t give you up just yet. 

****

The two of you soon get into a rhythm. 

You alternate between your place and his, spending most nights together each week. It’s after a few weeks of this routine that you realise: you’ve got yourself a ‘fuck buddy’ after all.

But you wouldn’t dream of telling Benny. Or Will. Or Santi. You weren’t ready to burst the bubble and face reality yet. You were perfectly happy indulging in each other’s bodies, sheltered from the pressures of the outside world. 

The sex is incredible. You know it, and Frankie most definitely knows it too.

You’ve come to know Frankie’s body so intimately, it sends a shiver down your spine just from thinking about it. You know what makes him tick. What makes him abandon his resolve and cum for you. You know how to draw particular sounds from him; his moans, his whimpers, his shouts, even. You had become a Frankie connoisseur in what seemed like no time.

Actually, it had only been a few weeks, yet things seemed to be moving at pace.

Having been friends before all this began, neither of you was inclined to kick the other person out after you were done rolling around in the sheets. So, naturally, then came the lingering. 

You both had taken to lingering a little while longer after the post-coital high faded. 

One time, you had hopped in the shower, and when you were done, you found Frankie on the phone to your local pizzeria. You hadn’t even questioned how he knew your order, putting it down to the fact you were friends before this. Still, it caused an unfamiliar feeling to stir in your chest, and some small part of you didn’t hate the gesture. 

You start showering together, too.

The first time it happened, you were still giggling over something Frankie had said. You’d riled him up and he’d taken you on, finding it way too easy to laugh with you. You’d been poking fun at him after he’d shared quite an embarrassing story from his days in service and he had decided to take a shower to escape your teasing. However, you didn’t want to let the moment go, just yet - so you followed him into the bathroom. 

He had just stepped under the spray of water when he heard your girlish giggle getting louder. Frankie tried his hardest to steel himself, but your happiness was infectious and he couldn’t help but be affected, dropping his head forward with a content smile as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. And since then, this became a frequent part of your routine. 

On several occasions, you slept over at Frankie’s place and he drove you to work the next day. 

You struggled with this. You weren’t going to lie. The thought of one of your colleagues spotting you, and the gossip that would ensue, concerned you. But you brushed it off each time.

After all, it meant that Frankie would take you home as well - and that came with its own benefits.

You’d gotten into the habit of getting him all worked up on those days he was due to pick you up, deciding it was fun to have him show up wrecked and so hard for you. Sometimes he drove a little faster, gripped your thigh a little tighter, and braked a little harder as he rushed to get the two of you to someplace private. Whilst other times he’d take to finding a discreet place to park his car. 

Yeah, those were the days you’d texted him something filthy.

You figured out quite early that you were both into dirty talk, but you weren’t expecting it to escalate in the way it did. 

An incident occurred at the Millers’ BBQ, where everyone in the neighbourhood appeared to be out in full force. Despite you and Frankie pledging to behave yourselves, you couldn’t help but sneak off upstairs when the moment presented itself. You had to remind yourself that Benny had probably done the same, if not much worse, in your own bathroom as you let Frankie sit you up on the counter; his broad frame crowding you against the mirror and your heels digging into his back. He had come to love when you’d communicate how much you needed him by sinking your stilettos into him like a vice. It was a kind of foreplay and he was very much here for it. 

It was at that moment when he said it, as he had you spread out on the counter in your friend’s bathroom, fucking you good. 

You could’ve blamed it on the slight buzz of alcohol running through his veins. Or the fact you had been fucking each other a lot. The latter was more rational, you realised, yet you didn’t want to dwell on how you two got to this point. The anxiety and regret would creep back in, and you were having way too much to let yourself ruin it by overthinking.

“Fuck…Cariño. Feels so good. You like that, huh?”, he said.

You’d mewled out a “Yeah”, knowing Frankie needed to hear the praise, needed you to use your words.

What followed then, was a veiled threat to your dynamic. “Yeah…”, he groaned out. “You like it, huh? Letting me fuck you like this tight little pussy is mine.”

Frankie loved the way you whined at that, and he was perfectly content to watch you go wild as you took his cock like a champion, but you were getting too loud, so he covered your mouth with his; swallowing your cries of pleasure.

You should’ve noticed then that things were changing between the two of you, but you were too far gone at the time to pay it the attention it needed.

However, Frankie had been paying close attention to you. Specifically, you in his t-shirts, wearing only your panties and pottering around his place like you belonged there. 

You were blissfully unaware of how much this particular sight drove him crazy, but each time you wore one, Frankie died a little inside. He was overcome with the need to possess you. To make you his girl, have everyone know you warmed his bed. 

This feeling also reared its head whenever you called him baby. 

He’d never been one to jump to conclusions and he was definitely not one to overestimate a woman’s feelings towards him. But, against all odds, and because this was you, Frankie found himself desperately clinging to the pet name. He latched onto the idea that, maybe, he was your man and there was nobody else. Of course, Frankie knew what he signed up for. But he could still imagine what it would be like if things were different. 

But, afraid it would scare you off, Frankie subdued these urges every time. He’d often shut down when it all got to be too much for him to contemplate, rushing to another room where he’d make himself look busy. Unfortunately, you interpreted his struggle as him being distant. Closed-off. Emotionally unavailable. And in your eyes, this was the reason why you couldn’t let yourself fall for this man.

Despite the doubts you harboured, neither of you was prepared to stop.

The pace at which things were evolving terrified you, if you were being honest. It was as though you were heading towards a cliff edge, but you had taken the scenic route. 

The views were breathtaking, so you went along for the ride; paying no mind to where you were going.

You hated being unable to control the situation and part of you wanted to turn it around and go back to when you were just friends. Back then, you didn’t owe him anything. You could control the version of yourself you presented to him. But in this arrangement, Frankie was able to catch you off guard, sometimes. When he looked at you like you hung the moon, you felt as though you could fall into him with no parachute - give him more. And that scared you.

Frankie was scared, too.

In fact, he’s worried.

You’re currently enjoying a night out with your girlfriends whilst he’s home alone with his anxiety. 

He knows you can handle yourself, but he’s itching to hear from you. You’re having fun and you don’t need him, but he can’t help but keep glancing at his phone, thinking of texting you. Truthfully, Frankie’s afraid he’ll fade into your background. Every second you spend without him - untethered - is a chance for you to find something better and leave him behind.

He wants to be missed. Needs you to miss him.

However, Frankie’s not prepared to get this deep in a text message to you, so he settles for something a bit lighter. 

Releasing a strained sigh, he decides to bite the bullet and so begins to type out a message.

Meanwhile, in the club, you’re nursing your third margarita of the evening when the text comes through. 

Luckily, you’d agreed to watch the booth whilst your friends went to the bar for more drinks, meaning you were able to take a quick peek at your phone, away from prying eyes. 

You hated the way you doted on his every word, yet still, you ran your eyes over the text a few more times than necessary.

Hope you’re having fun. You know there’s a space in my bed if you want to crash here later.

Slightly buzzed from the cocktails you’d had so far, you aren’t sure whether this new sensation you’re feeling is down to the alcohol, or something else entirely. 

Being your usual flirtatious self, your instinct is to tease Frankie a little.

Your bed? Benny usually lets me crash with him after a girls night. Why should it be your bed, Francisco? X

It’s true. Benny did always offer you a place to stay at the end of the night, but it wasn’t like that. Yet Frankie doesn’t need to know that Benny always takes the couch, letting you sleep like a baby in privacy. Besides, you think it’s fun to rile him up. After all, you’re not sure how far he’ll go, to earn your company tonight. 

He doesn’t respond for a while, and you’re tapping your nails against the back of your phone, thankful that the bar service is slow tonight, delaying your friends’ return.

Fuck…is what comes to mind when Frankie reads your message. He’s driven wild by the thought of you in another man’s bed, even if it’s his friend who he knows has only ever been platonic with you. He’s not proud of his jealousy, as he knows what he signed up for. But he can’t help himself - he needs to give you a reason to end the night in his bed. He needs something that will reassure him: he’s not losing you. Thinking on his feet, despite having spent a solid ten minutes figuring out what to say, he replies.

Come on, baby. You know I can give you what you need tonight. Not sure Benny’s going to cut it. 

Kicking himself as he reads over his words, he knows he needs to give you more, so he sends another.

You think I can’t see through your games, Cariño. When you wake up needy in the middle of the night, it’s my cock you’ll be coming on. 

Oh. He’s playing dirty, you realise. You grab your drink and take a generous taste, needing something to cool you down desperately. 

Is he jealous? Your mind is racing with the possibilities of what this could mean for your relationship. 

Panic swirls in your stomach, letting you know that you may be heading into uncharted territory here. And to make matters worse, a glance to your left alerts you to the fact your friends are on their way back to the table.

You intended to reply with something equally as dirty as what he’d been sending you, yet as you spot your friends getting closer, you freak out and lock your phone, hoping they’re tipsy enough to gloss over the way you’re breathing a little harsher, right now.

You couldn’t deny it, Frankie’s way with words had you feeling hot. Heat pools between your thighs as you dwell on the delicious implications of ending the night in his bed, but you remind yourself that you need to appear unaffected or else you’ll be subject to interrogation.

It didn’t work, judging by Cami’s expression, and you take a moment to prepare yourself for the questions. Yet, there’s a look of real understanding on your friend’s face, like she senses your inner turmoil and feels for you. She assumes you’re tearing yourself apart over something, or someone, and she’s not sure that a crowded club is the right place to bring it up. Deciding to buy you some time, Cami suggests you accompany her to the bathroom.

Shooting her a look of gratitude, you let her lead you into a cubicle, before she turns to face you whilst leaning back against the door. 

You stare up at her from where you’re perched on the toilet, and you know she’s waiting for you to fill her in.

After a few seconds, you succumb. 

“I think I’m in too deep. Shit, Cami. Things are changing, and I don’t know if I like it.”

She doesn’t need you to elaborate. She knows you’re referring to a guy, and from the sounds of it, she can assume it’s casual. Well, supposed to be casual. The way you’re frantically chewing on your lip suggests otherwise.

Always in your corner, yet still firm enough to call you out when it’s needed, Cami’s been by your side long enough to tell when a man’s made a serious impression on you. Deciding it’s time to be firm, she weighs in on the situation.

“Being comfortable has never been enough for you. Change can be good. I know you know that, babe.”, she tells you.

“Who is he?”

You figure there’s no point in delaying the inevitable, so you reveal that it’s “A friend of Benny and Will. Uh…Frankie, the pilot.”

It’s hard to miss the proud smirk that Cami gives you. “Well-played.”, she says, chuckling slightly. “And that’s who you were sexting whilst we were at the bar, right?”

You nod, feeling less overwhelmed after opening up to her.

“Are you planning on showing me, then? I can’t help you blow his mind if you don’t let me see the texts.”, she adds smugly. Instantly putting you at ease.

You don’t need to ask her how she knew you were sexting Frankie, you’re just grateful that she’s a girls’ girl through and through, and you welcome her expertise in the matter. 

Cami’s about to suggest that you send him a flirty picture, with an even flirtier caption, until you scroll further down the conversation and you notice two new messages from the man in question.

It turns out that whilst you were stewing over your lover’s salacious messages, Frankie had gone through the motions, ten times over. He thought he’d pushed you too far. Pushed you away with his jealousy. 

He let himself simmer in his frustration before concluding that your lack of a response signified rejection. Frankie knew he’d shown his hand too soon. He’d fallen at your feet like all the other men, acting like a golden retriever in the way he fought for your attention. 

But still, your rejection hurt. It hurt enough for him to become defensive, trying to regain some of the control he’d forfeited to you. He shouldn’t have said what he said, but he let his emotions get the better of him.

You can’t quite believe what you’re reading, and even Cami appears to be shocked at the words staring back at you.

I get it. You don’t owe me anything, huh?  

And after he hadn’t heard from you for fifteen minutes, he sent another text.

You should stay at Benny’s tonight. Wherever you choose to go, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of options. 

All you see is red. All you feel is the unmistakable tinge of betrayal. You hadn’t expected Frankie to jump to conclusions, and you definitely hadn’t expected your Frankie - who was always so sweet and respectful - to degrade you like this. 

Some part of your brain is able to register Cami’s words and you hear her cursing Frankie with some very colourful language. You’re left feeling blindsided, unable to process his sudden resentment towards you, but nonetheless, you can’t allow yourself to get hung up on it, not when you were surrounded by such remarkable friends. 

You switch your phone off, determined to salvage the rest of your night, before letting Cami drag you to the dancefloor for some much needed release.

It’s no surprise, then, when Frankie’s 3 am apology text fails to come through.

****

Frankie becomes an expert at jumping to conclusions when it comes to you.

After you didn’t reply to his apology, and subsequently screened all of his calls, Frankie didn’t know what else he could do. 

He couldn’t reach you and you hadn’t made an effort to contact him. Hell, he knew he’d fucked up; he shouldn’t have spoken to you in the way he did, but he’d tried to make amends and yet you didn’t seem willing to hear him out.

Frankie doesn’t see you for a while. Eight days, to be exact. 

He knows you’re alright, thank god, as he hears from Will that you’d been offered a promotion at work and that he’d taken you out to dinner to celebrate.

And yet, it doesn’t get easier, he comes to accept, and he finds himself wanting to call you on multiple occasions, and he almost does, but something always stops him in his tracks.

Unable to stop replaying your words over in his head, Frankie’s overthought and overanalysed until the point of exhaustion. You were both to blame, considering neither of you had been willing to speak about your relationship. Expectations, boundaries and outcomes had all been forgotten. You’d gotten swept up in the pleasure and failed to address these crucial concerns, and now you were both reaping what you had sewed. 

It was supposed to be casual. It was supposed to be just sex. 

That’s what Frankie told himself when Benny revealed that he had set him up on a blind date with a mutual friend. 

Neither of you had told Benny, or Will and Santi for that matter, about the two of you and Frankie couldn’t have declined the invitation without arousing suspicion from the youngest of the group. He didn’t know where he stood with you, but he wasn’t going to drop you in it with the boys. He was way too protective of you to let that happen.

So, begrudgingly, Frankie agreed to the date.

The first you heard of the date was through Instagram, and Frankie and Imelda were well into their second drink of the evening by the time you’d found out. 

Turns out, Benny had crashed it around forty-five minutes in, having gotten a text from his friend revealing he wasn’t ‘feeling it’. Taking his wingman duties seriously, Benny wasn’t prepared to let Frankie give in just yet, so had shown up in an attempt to encourage him, and to salvage what was left of the night. Benny had brought a girl friend - whom you both had met whilst at college - hoping the double date vibes would put Frankie at ease, and as she had taken to posting on her story, you were able to poke your nose in.

It wasn’t spying, and you weren’t jealous. But when Stacey posted a picture of the group, you couldn’t help but fixate on the way Frankie had his arm around his date, leaning into her ear, and it looked as though she’d caught them during an intimate moment.

Due to the angle at which the photo had been taken, you couldn’t tell whether Frankie’s lips were just hovering over her ear, or whether they were pressed tight against her skin. His baseball cap cleverly hid the majority of his face from view, but you couldn’t deny what was plain to see. And it drove you mad. Though, you knew your anger wasn’t justified.

Preparing for the worst, you conclude that Frankie’s ready to move on from you. 

You wish you could put your phone aside and let it be. You wish you didn’t care. You wish that the thought of Frankie touching another woman didn’t make you want to die, and you wish you could stop yourself from doing what you were planning to do next.

There’s a fire in your eyes and you realise that, perhaps, you are jealous, though you don’t waste time dwelling on it. If you were going to keep Frankie’s interest, you needed to do something that would throw him off balance and you needed to do it soon. And you knew just what would do the trick. 

You practically run to the bedroom, pulling out one of Frankie’s old army t-shirts that you’d snagged from his place. Getting comfy on your bed, you slip the shirt up your skin until it exposes enough skin to drive your man wild. There was no doubt about it. Frankie adored your breasts, and he also adored the way you loved to tease. You are hoping that this sexy little underboob shot would make him forget all about his date. No disrespect to her, as any woman would be crazy to turn down a date with Francisco Morales, and you feel bad - honestly, you really do. But the anxiety in your chest is pulling you towards the action. Your body’s screaming at you to do something, like it senses that it’s about to lose Frankie’s touch, for good.

You angle your phone just right, so the camera focuses on the way your breasts peek out from under his t-shirt. Whilst you make sure to get your face in the shot, too, as you draw your bottom lip between your teeth and widen your eyes; looking all cute and innocent as you look up at the camera positioned above you. You know you’re anything but innocent right now, but you’re anticipating that Frankie will play right into your trap. As you have it on good authority that the man loves how you play coy, only to whine pathetically when he finally stretches you out with his cock. And by good authority, you’re referring to the way he grips your hips like your body gives him oxygen, or the way his big hands cup the back of your neck, fingers skimming over the side of your throat in a way that says, you’re staying right where I’ve got you. 

Throwing caution to the wind, you press send on the photo and you make sure to add a fitting caption. 

Your girl’s feeling a little lonely. Lucky she’s got your shirt to play in. Would be a shame for you to miss out, tonight. x

And you’ve got him. 

Hook, line and sinker; Frankie’s ready to come crawling back to you like a dog.

When he sees your name light up on his phone, notifying him that you’d sent him a photo, he needs to get somewhere private. And fast. 

He gives Imelda, as well as the other couple, some lame excuse about needing to get his jacket from the truck - just in case they decide to go somewhere with outdoor seating later on - and before he even reaches for his keys, he’s got his phone out ready. Somehow, he manages to hold off on opening your message, wanting to give you his full attention from the comfort of his driver’s seat. And he’s glad he did, as he pulls up the text and is greeted with what could only be described as a treat. Your eyes. Those lips. Your tits in… wait. Is that his shirt? Fuck, he doesn’t know where to look. His eyes rapidly move from each focal point in a frenzy to soak up everything you’d given him. You’d bestowed upon him a gift, and he needed to treasure it. Besides, he hadn’t heard from you in a while and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to touch you, or even look at you, in this way again. 

And then, he casts his eyes down to the text that follows.

Your girl’s feeling a little lonely. Lucky she’s got your shirt to play in. Would be a shame for you to miss out, tonight. x

He takes a minute to process your words, but he’s unable to move past your girl and your shirt. Did you want him dead? Surely, that was your goal in pushing those exact buttons of his. You’d seen his possessiveness, and until now, Frankie was certain it had pushed you away; overwhelmed you. Were you now encouraging it?

Not wanting to miss his chance, Frankie recomposes himself, just enough for him to be able to send a semi-coherent reply. He also texted Benny, asking him to apologise to Imelda on his behalf and tell her he had to head home, as he wasn’t feeling well. Home wasn’t on the cards tonight, however, as he geared up to head to your place. 

Don’t play too hard without me, baby. On my way over now.

Somewhere on the drive over to yours, Frankie finds himself able to reflect on your relationship. 

Relationship. That word felt foreign on his tongue, but he didn’t hate it, he realised, as he allowed himself to fantasise about a version of you two where you dated, held hands, and openly expressed your affection in front of your friends. 

You’d never given him any indication that you wanted more. Until tonight. 

Frankie’s aware that you’ve given him a crumb, and he’s already dreaming about the whole damn thing, but he can’t help himself from pushing forward.

His attraction, and his appreciation for you had grown, and he often found himself doting on the way you held your coffee in the morning like it was precious cargo, just as much as he doted on the way you went all cock-dumb in his bed after he’d worn you out for hours and hours. He’d begun to notice the little things that made you, you. And he knew he could fall in love with you. It would be so easy. 

Frankie considers how he’s probably ruined it for himself, already. He spoke to you in a derogatory way, that night you were out with the girls, and you’d somehow found out he’d been on a date with another woman. He knows that, on paper, the date isn’t something he should feel guilty for, as you two weren’t exclusive. But you were still involved and he has to admit he hasn't handled things in the best way. 

As he turns onto your street, he concludes that he wants you.

Frankie wants to be with you, and he’s willing to have you in whatever capacity you’re prepared to offer him. If you’re not ready. If you can’t give him what he needs, like the self-sabotaging martyr, he’s willing to take whatever he can get if it means he doesn’t have to give this feeling up. 

Then he’s at your door, trying his hardest to stop the tapping of his foot, which would surely give him away.

You appear from behind it, and he’s a fool not to notice the tears staining your cheeks as he makes his way past you. 

He bounds on you, the force of his kisses backing you up against the kitchen counter. And there are so many words on the tip of your tongue, but you haven’t seen this man in over a week and it’s so easy to fall back in again. 

After he’s somewhat satisfied that you’re real, and you’re here in his arms, he pulls back to address you with a needy tone of voice. One that was unfamiliar to both of you. 

“What was that, huh?” he demands. Looking anywhere but at your face, it’s no surprise that he misses the anguish that clouds your usual playful expression.

After a beat of silence, he pushes again.

“You couldn’t let me try to get over you.”, says Frankie, and this time, you notice the pain in his voice.

It’s like you’re frozen. Paralysed by the weight of everything that’s gone unsaid between you. 

Silence follows. It’s the kind of quiet before a storm, and neither of you knows what to do to protect yourselves. 

He’s holding onto your hips like they’re his altar, and he’s staring down at your body like it will lead him to enlightenment; give him the answers he needs. 

When he moves his gaze back to your face, that’s when he sees the absence of light in your eyes. You look troubled. Uncertain. And Frankie’s kicking himself for not noticing the tears that are streaking your soft skin earlier. What had happened between sending him the photo and now?

Cupping your face with a tenderness unlike the way he had just kissed you so roughly, Frankie’s at a loss for what to do. He just knows he wants to soothe the pain; your pain and his, and make it all better. 

Your silence feels like another dose of rejection, so Frankie takes a step back from you.

He’s amazed at his own courage, as he finds himself needing to communicate what he needs, right now. 

“You know what I want.”, he says.

The look in your eyes tells him you were expecting this conversation. And it crushes him, because he needs you to fight for him. But you won’t. He can see that much from your pained expression and the way your body is curling in on itself. You’re retreating.

And you are retreating. You want so badly to run to him; to hold him in your arms and promise that you’ll try, you’ll give him what he needs. 

You know you could love him right. Some mature part of you wants you to acknowledge that you are falling for him, and have been since the first night. But you’re confused, driven by heightened, raw emotion and you haven’t taken the time to process what you’re feeling for him.

His rejection still stings you, and you struggle to bounce back when you’ve been hurt. You know the adult thing to do is to talk about it - patch things up and move past it. But you’re a creature of habit and what you actually did was stew in your irrational anger, before closing yourself off to him. He’d tried to reach out and you’d crawled deeper into your pit of self-sabotage. Yeah, it wasn’t healthy and perhaps Frankie was better off without the hurt you’d most likely cause him if you gave this thing a chance to grow into something more.

A lot of self-work needed to happen before you’d be ready to let him in; let him sink deeper underneath your skin. 

So you stayed put, whilst your words failed you. 

Frankie’s eyes are raking over you so intensely, awaiting your next move, and all you can do is look anywhere but at him. 

The tension in your body has been stretched too far, and so it snaps. And you’re sure that both of you can hear the way the energy in the room shifts just like that. 

“Francisco… I -”, is all that you manage.

And Frankie feels as though he can read your mind. 

What you meant to say, he thinks, was I can’t give you what you want. 

And he gives you a moment to finish your admission. But nothing comes.

Wanting to be anywhere but here - facing your rejection, again, Frankie pivots towards the front door, ready to leave. 

“I shouldn’t have come here.”, he says.

Then as he darts towards the exit, you call out his name, and his movements still completely.

You continue. “I - … “, before releasing a sigh. 

“Frankie”, you whine, though it’s not like he’s used to hearing. It’s a broken whine, telling him all he needs to know.

You’re not ready.

“Tell me to stay. Tell me you want me.”, he pleads. 

And you think it’s kinder to let him go now. As it’s only a matter of time before you break his heart anyway. 

This arrangement was supposed to be casual. It wasn’t supposed to evolve this way, but you had both fallen in a little too deep, with too little communication. 

Fuck, he’s a good guy. Why won’t you let yourself have this? Have him? 

By now, your delicate tears have given way to distressed sobs, and you need him to walk away from you, so you can let it all out. 

After what feels like an age, Frankie leaves. He realises that he’s powerless. He’d handed over all of his control, to you, and you now held the advantage. 

As you watch the door close behind him, you release the hand that’s covering your mouth and unleash your heartache. 

****

It’s not a secret that you miss him.

Your body feels the loss, as you regress into the shell of your hurt. 

You can’t eat or sleep for the first few days, and when your appetite returns, you’re too anxious to make a run for some groceries. You’d called in sick to work, and that should’ve been a sign that Frankie meant more to you than a ‘fuck buddy’. 

You were grieving him. And as cliché as it sounds, you didn’t know what you had until it was gone. Or more so, you didn’t know that you wanted more until you had nothing.

The days that followed that fateful night in your kitchen were filled with longing. You yearned for the comfort of his body: the softness of his hair underneath your fingers, the sound of his voice over the phone, the way he held you like his favourite memory. You couldn’t bring yourself to wash his clothes that appeared in your laundry; you weren’t ready to erase his scent. It was somehow calm and untamed at the same time. Like Frankie.

You also missed the way he made you feel so needed when he’d beg for your touch.

But physical touch aside, you missed his mind, too.

You found yourself wanting to bask in his dark humour; the way he was often quiet and observant in social situations, only to cut in with something downright philosophical when it counted. Truthfully, you thought a lot about the way he’d listen, hands on his hips and mouth slightly ajar, looking like he was sizing you up, though you knew he held nothing but empathy and respect for those he cared about. 

It was down to you now. You needed to be the one to show up, for him. You needed to reach out to him, tell him what he means to you, but you were worried you’d missed your chance. That night in your kitchen couldn’t have been more poetic; he’d come running to you and it would’ve been perfect had you crashed into him with open arms and an open mind. But you didn’t. And that left you playing out scenarios in your head, thinking of all the ways you could confess the depth of your affection to your lover. 

What would he say? 

Would he take you in his arms and vow to forget the past? 

Would he be forgiving? Or would he be guarded, detached?

You imagined the latter was more likely, though you had come to accept that you were the one responsible for the limbo you were both existing in.

And of all the ways you’d imagined seeing Frankie again, you never expected it to be in the grocery store; dressed for comfort and definitely not to impress. 

He’s got a six-pack of beers in his hand as you let your eyes soak him up. He looks good, but also exhausted, and although your heart aches at the thought of him struggling, the needy part of you latches onto it as evidence of him missing you.

Frankie had once revealed that he loved sharing a bottle of wine with a woman, as he enjoyed getting comfortable enough with a partner to share the pleasant buzz it gave. And that was something you had delighted in, too, before taking it for granted. Though as you glanced back down at the beers he was holding, you were so thankful for his choice of beverage, as it signified there wasn’t someone waiting on him tonight.  

You found yourself wanting to be the one waiting on him. Being the one he came home to every night, and the thought sent a gentle thrill through your body.

So you held on tighter to your tub of ice-cream, channeling your trepidation into the object in question as it gave your hands something to do and slightly quelled the urge to reach out and touch Frankie. 

As you pluck up just enough courage to walk over to him, he reaches for a bag of chips, and you believe he's blissfully unaware of the baggage you’re bringing him. 

The distance between you is not enough, as you know you’re only a few steps away from having to confront this thing. Tail between your legs, you slowly move closer to him. 

Of course, as an ex-veteran, Frankie had clocked you before you even considered approaching him. He’s grateful for this, though, as it gave him a sliver of time to compose himself before you had eyes on his weary form. However, he can’t help but think the way you’re slinking towards him, in an attempt to appear discreet, is cute. Despite how much he wishes he could refrain from becoming even more infatuated with you.

Arguably, the anxiety in his stomach tells Frankie he’s not ready to face you. Though he doubts he could ever feel completely ready. So, at the moment when you become too close to ignore, he lifts his head, knowing his time’s up.

Words aren’t exchanged for a while. Rather, you’re preoccupied with assessing each other; devouring with your eyes what you’ve been deprived of for over a week. 

Frankie knows he can’t be the one to break the silence. It has to be you, and if he gives you this, he’ll never know whether you mean to fight for him. He needs to see you step outside your comfort zone and give him the words you’ve held hostage.

And you do, after a poignant pause. 

“Hi, uh - … you look…good, Frankie.” is all you manage to say. You find a little more confidence as you go on, and the way you breathe out his name with poise gives Frankie hope for what’s to come. 

He doesn’t think it’s the right time for him to speak, though, and he doesn’t want to spook you should you be preparing to speak candidly. So, he doesn’t say anything.

You gesture towards the beers and chips in his basket, “Oh, are you seeing the boys tonight?”

Frankie puts the basket down, then, and folds his arms over his chest. He gives you a quick shake of the head, before telling you “No.” 

He’s trying to appear unbothered, but the way his laboured breaths are visible through his chest tells you otherwise.

You’re fighting the instinct to run but you somehow manage to continue.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you.”, you admit, and then you tell him, “I’ve been thinking about everything. About you. A lot.”

Frankie can’t help himself, and he jumps in, craving your honest disclosure. 

“What do you want. Really?”, he says, and he looks so tired - exhausted by your indecision, and it makes you loathe how avoidant you’ve been with him.

Oh, you think. We’re getting to this now.

“I- I’m not used to… used to letting someone in. Y-You-” and Frankie cuts you off.

“Cariño.”, he says sternly. “I need an answer.”, and he’s begging you.

“Francisco!”, you whine petulantly. And if he couldn’t see the pained expression on your face, he’d be offended. You’re conflicted, and he wants to believe that you’re trying. 

“You want me to tell you how I feel, then listen.”, you assert, before adding a softer “Please”, as you look at him like he could break your heart with any sudden moves.

“Frankie… y-you saw me, like actually took the time to learn it all. I couldn’t hide. I thought you’d find something that would make you leave me alone, and I wasn’t prepared to l-lose it.”

He leans closer, ever so slightly and it’s the encouragement you need to continue.

“Didn’t want to lose you, Frankie. You’re a good man. A man I could love, and… and I was happy but I was afraid it couldn’t last. S-so I kept going back and forth, daring you to stay. Seeing if you’d give up.”, you say, and the last five words come out sounding more uncertain than the rest.

Meanwhile, Frankie’s processing. He inhales every word out of your mouth like he’s gasping for breath. He’s needed to hear this - hear you - and it feels long overdue.

Your strength doesn’t fade, as you continue.

“I don’t know if I deserve you.”, you confess softly, before revealing, “You could be better off with someone else.”, and you can’t look him in the eye as you share such a deep-rooted insecurity with the man you’d come to adore.

It’s genuine, everything you’re saying, and Frankie sees that you’re trying, for him. He’s finding it hard not to say fuck mature communication and comfort you, knowing you could do with some physical touch to ground you. He wants to kiss you until all your worries dissipate, hating the thought that you could ever underestimate yourself in this way. If only you saw what Frankie saw when he looked at you, you’d be walking on air.

But he knows he needs to tread carefully. You’re giving him an inch, and he wants a mile, but he knows you. Knows the vulnerability you’re slowly welcoming is a lot for you, right now, and he’s appreciative regardless.

Then, you go and throw him a curveball. 

Taking a risk, you move in even closer, until your feet are practically covering his, and you’re looking up at him with an innocence and vulnerability in your eyes that you reserve for him, only.

And your voice wobbles as you say, “Shit, Frankie. I need you.”

He looks down at you and you appear so small and fragile beneath his gaze. There’s no trace of your usual playfulness or moxie on your expression. And in your voice, there’s no trace of the pretence you sometimes hide behind when forced to confront your emotions. And Frankie registers that you must really mean it this time.

He needs to believe that you mean it. That you really need him, as the alternative is something he’s not prepared to brave.

Arguably, you’ve put yourself out there this time, and Frankie would be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned about you reverting back to reticence, should he give you another chance. Who’s to say you’ll maintain this level of communication with him? He can’t go through this again if you aren’t truly invested in moving forward.

“Fuck, I never thought we’d be stood in a grocery store having this conversation.”, you add to ease the tension, and the way Frankie lets out a breathy chuckle tells you he’s just as grateful for the relief from the heaviness.

After a moment of intense deliberation, Frankie arrives at his choice.

He understands that acknowledgement is only the start, and he needs to see that you’re willing to commit to something more, whatever that may be.

But right there on the confectionery aisle, as the artificial lighting of the store illuminates every emotion on your face - and he sees the fear, the concern, and the tenderness that gives you away, Frankie decides that he needs you. 

And, like an addict, he swears to have you in whatever capacity he can get.

You can’t read him, and you’re on edge awaiting his response.

Then with a newfound sense of ease, Frankie picks up the six-pack from the basket beside you, as you watch his every move; afraid you’ll miss something. 

He gestures to the beers, before the slightest hint of a smirk greets you from beneath his baseball cap.

“How about we swap these for some of that wine you like? Then we can head back to my place. Talk some more.” he says.

And he knows those last three words could scare you off. 

Yet as you take his hand, pulling him over to the aisle you need, Frankie feels hopeful. 

It’s a kind of hope that simultaneously scares and excites him, and right now, he’s okay with that.

Thank you for reading! Please consider commenting, liking or reblogging if you enjoyed it. <3

[augiewrites]

“scott street” - richie jerimovich

summary: y/n is back in chicago for the first time in years and reunites with an old flame (inspired by phoebe bridgers’ scott street)

pairing: richie jerimovich x reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: angst, grief, family/parental death, the usual warnings that come along with the bear

a/n: i love emotionally unintelligent men

Y/N was never good at making decisions. Big, life changing decisions? No big deal. Abandon everything they know to move across the country for college? Didn’t even think twice. Their last living family member was not-so alive anymore and left a massive mess behind with no one to clean it up? The U-Haul was packed before the week was over.

The cooler of soft drinks in front of them right now? Y/N had been staring at the frosted doors for well over five minutes, periodically opening the doors but taking nothing out.

“Y/N?”

Holy shit, he grew up.

“Carmy?” Y/N smiled at the young man, pulling him into a brief embrace, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could, uh, ask you the same,” Carmy smirked.

“I’m taking care of Ma’s old building.”

Carmy’s brows knitted together, “Right—I’m sorry about your mom, by the way. Shame.”

“Yeah,” Y/N shuffled their feet, “you avoiding the question?”

“Maybe,” he smirked, “I took over the Beef. Been back in town for a few weeks.”

“Oh? How’s that going for you?”

Another smirk. “It’s not, really.”

“Wow, look at us,” Y/N knocked his shoulder with theirs, “both said we’d never come back and here we are…dealing with a couple steaming piles of shit.”

He let out a breath that slightly resembled a laugh, “Yeah—listen, you should come by for family tomorrow afternoon. Take a look at the pile for yourself.”

“Oh, Carmy, I don’t know—”

“I’ll make sure he stays in line.”

“We both know that’s not possible, Bear.”

“Still, everyone would love seeing you.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Carmy opened the cooler and wordlessly pressed a Diet Coke in their hand before walking out of the store.

It took everything in them to not cry.

_________________________________________

Y/N knew it was a bad idea, but the next day they found themselves standing outside the Beef, willing themselves to go in.

They scoffed and opened the door.

Pussy, they chastised themself.

The restaurant was pure chaos, and Y/N stood there for a moment, completely unnoticed and taking it all in. They would be lying to themselves if they said they didn’t miss the mayhem.

Unsurprisingly, Richie was the first to notice them—he had a habit of doing that.

“Yo, what the hell?”

Y/N was barely able to get a word out as they were suddenly flanked by Tina and Ebra, who were simultaneously saying how good it was to see them and chastising them for being gone so long with so little communication.

It was Carmy that intervened, gently pulling Y/N away with a small laugh and saying, “okay, guys, let ‘em breathe.”

Richie was frozen in his spot behind the counter, feeling like he just saw a ghost.

Which, in a way, he did. It had been years since he saw Y/N, and no matter how much he tried forgetting about them, they haunted his thoughts. They had been high school sweethearts, and even though things didn’t end well between them he couldn’t help but still care deeply for them.

First loves were like that.

Y/N’s mind was on overdrive as Carmy walked them around and introduced them to the new faces working in the kitchen. Richie was being too quiet. Usually when he was avoiding a topic he didn’t like, he talked about everything else under the sun. Richie being quiet was dangerous territory.

They were pulled out of their thoughts once Tina slammed a large pot in the center of the larger tables in the dining area and yelled, “Family!”

Y/N took a seat between Tina and Fak, and was for once thankful for the man’s dedication to rambling. He was currently going on about how he should come inspect the building they were now the owner of, despite the building already having been cleared by state inspectors and having a fully staffed maintenance team.

“I wouldn’t waste my time if I were you, Fak,” Richie broke in, “it’s only a matter of time before they leave and make that place someone else’s problem. Right, Y/N?”

Y/N didn’t have it in them to fight back, even though they knew that was what the man wanted. They were too tired.

“That’s what you do best, huh, Y/N? Run away from all your problems and leave everyone else to pick up the pieces?”

Carmy sent Richie a warning glare, “Cousin.”

“No, Cousin,” funny how Richie can manage to make a term of endearment sound like an insult, “you had no right inviting them here.”

“I have just as much a right to be here as you do,” Y/N glared at Richie.

“That’s a load of shit, and you know it, toots.”

That was all it took for a screaming match to break out between the former lovers. Their voices drowned each other out, and all Carmy could make out was a slew of insulting names, curse words, and years of unpacked baggage.

He let them go at it for a couple of minutes before he dragged Richie out the front door with a cry of “enough!”

Y/N could hear the two men arguing outside from their place at the table before deciding that they’d had enough. They muttered a lame “excuse me” before moving through the kitchen to the back alley, their face heating up in embarrassment. It was nothing that most of the Beef’s staff hadn’t seen before, but Y/N could feel themselves reverting to a version of themself that they hadn’t been for a long time—they couldn’t help the embarrassment that came along with it.

They were halfway through their second cigarette when they heard the back door open and a familiar pair of track pants entered their field of vision.

“I got you those over a decade ago,” they exhaled the smoke and pressed their lighter into Richie’s outstretched hand, “isn’t it about time you get some new clothes?”

Richie kicked his leg around, inspecting the pants, “Ain’t nothing wrong with ‘em. Why get rid of something that works?”

“Big words coming from you.”

He met their half-assed glare with a furrowed look, “you were the one that left.”

“Not before you ended it.”

“We would’ve gotten back together. Always did,” a scoff, “You left.”

“And you moved on, had a kid—seems like things worked out.”

“Toots, if this is things working out, I don’t wanna know what it would have been like if they hadn’t.”

Y/N needed to change the subject before the tension killed them.

“How’s your girl doing, anyway?”

Richie grinned at Y/N, “Ev’s doing real good. Loving her new gymnastics class. Just turned nine last month.”

“Shit, that makes me feel old.”

“Well, what does that make me?” Richie asked with a rough laugh.

“Fucking ancient.”

Another laugh. Maybe things would be different between them this time.

“You in town for good, then?

“Yeah, I think so. Got a good thing going. Think I might start renovating some of the units in the apartment next year.”

“Hmm, sure,” Richie muttered absentmindedly around his cigarette.

Y/N decided it was better to not say anything.

Richie finished off his cigarette, tossing it in the general direction of a makeshift ashtray.

He made to walk back to the back door before turning and offering Y/N his hand, helping them pull themselves off the ground. He wiped his hands off on his track pants before finally going to move away.

“Anyway,” he gave them one last look before turning around and walking away, “don’t be a stranger.”

~~~

part two

[mdr-writings]

Streamer!Eren x reader pt.2

A/n: I'm sorry I took so long to get this part out. I was very busy with my classes, I had relationship problems, family issues, I was a hot mess. But after rewrite after rewrite I can finally put this out. How convenient that its on Final Aot day. Honestly, I'm also glad that I am putting it out today bc I'd rather be hot and bothered rather than sad and sobbing. Btw I am gonna fix the first part because I feel like it lacks a lot of things. If you still want to read it, it’s linked below

wc:4.3k

Part One

Cw: slight teasing of weight, oral ( fem receiving), overstimulation, heavy kissing

” So does Eren behave himself when he talks to you guys,” you ask the chat as you sat down on his lap.

“What? you know I always behave myself,” he cocks his head towards you grinning. “Sure you do,” you said rolling your eyes. You know that he rarely behaves himself when it comes to you. So, you could assume he’s the same in front of an audience. You point your finger towards the camera. “Look, seems like the chat knows you better than yourself.” 

Eren’s attention shifts to the screen to see the chat flooding with comments siding with you. “It’ll be your own people huh?” you let out a quick chuckle while picking at your nails.

“Do you guys have anything you wanna ask her,” he questioned. 

You speak up, “Yeah, you guys can ask me anything “. You didn't know where this sense of comfortability came from. Maybe it was Eren's aura or the way he communicates with his audience. It’s a possible reason as to why he has such a big following.  

Eren has always been transparent about how he feels whether it’s about something or someone. The guy has a hard-on for conflict, but the way he is authentic with himself is admirable. “Anything?” Eren raises his eyebrows in amusement. The sound of a notification alert pops up on the monitor. A monotone robotic voice booms from the computer’s speaker” what is the freakiest thing you've done?” 

 “What do you mean?” you furrowed your eyebrows together. Of course, you were not going to show that side of you. Who do they think they were trying to ask a question like that? Perhaps you do tell them, then what? You become the biggest streamer’s slut? Smart remarks filled your head ready to be spat at the viewers. Though, integrity got the best of you and decided to remain quiet.

 “Aww come on, you can’t let the audience down now” he teases. Eren begins soothingly stroking your thigh. As he strokes, he draws patterns of circles, leaving you to accidentally shudder in his grasp. He then intriguingly raises his eyebrows. 

“Oh my god, I'm literally slipping off of you” you grab on both sides of his thighs to try to push yourself up. “Geez you’re like a fucking slip and slide, what did you do bath in, butter?” you mumbled. Eren looks down to your bottom half and notices your butt touching his knees. “It’s okay, I got you,” he murmured.

“Goddamn, you’re heavy as fuck.” You whipped your head to face him to strike him a glare. He then adjusts himself with you on top, making your bottom rub against his crotch. A low groan escaped his mouth. You felt heat brewing on your face. 

“Uhhh let’s see, is there any more questions?” you ask desperately looking at the screen. “Y/n you didn't even answer the first one” he raised one eyebrow and lowered the other. You stop your internal thoughts as you once again feel a hot sensation on your thigh moving. You try not to acknowledge the hand with clear intentions of riling you up. 

“You gotta toughen it out y/n.”

 “Actually,” you start. Eren eyes shot up in interest. “I can recall, the time I... you know... to a professor in a class,” you stammer over your words. Instantly, a wave of regret crashes into you. Somehow you forgot Eren attends this same college and classes you take. You silently cursed at yourself.

“Oh?” Eren’s lips curled up into a smirk. “And who might that professor be?” he questioned. Learning this fun fact about your sexual deviances aroused Eren's curiosity. In a millisecond, your ear is set ablaze as pressed his Eren's lips against it. “Would that be Professor Erwin or Miche?” His warm breath brazes your ears which ignites a fire in your stomach. “Or maybe Professor Levi?” his hand slithered its way towards your inner thigh. Your legs quickly squeeze together in hopes to stop the throbbing that started between them. Luckily, Eren was just in time to snatch his hand away from the trap. Your face was twisted up in frustration. 

This hasn’t been the first time that Eren has teased you. But this felt different, it’s almost as if you don’t want it to stop. The words he’s throwing at you don’t feel like feathers this time around. His hands on your thighs feel like it’s burning through your skin. The heartbeat in your core seems to pulsate harder and faster. You didn’t want it to stop but you were fighting to not look desperate.

Satisfied in your response, Eren clasped his hands together. “Alright I'm gonna end it right here make sure you share the stream with your friends, follow Y/n on her socials and repent, toodles” he sings. Eren leans over to hit a hotkey on his keyboard which he assumes ends his streams. He then swivels the knobs on the computer’s speaker on mute. He once again lays a hand on your thigh. You let out a short hum clearing your throat. He then leans back to take notice of your stiff position in his lap. Eren lightly squeezes your arm,” You, okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you pull away from his grip. Eren can tell when he goes overboard. He could just make it up to you by buying your favorite food like he always does. But for once in his life, he would rather be mature and talk it through.

“Hey, I know this was your first time on here and I know it was a bit overwhelming,” he breathed. “I do apologize if I made you uncomfortable.” 

“I said I’m fine Eren,” you raised your voice. Eren was taken aback by your sudden attitude towards him. His once loud and lively room was now clouded with silence. “I think we should head down now,” he placed his hands upon your plush waist. Gripping the chair handles, you turn around allowing your legs to lay against Eren’s waist. “I lost my appetite,” you whispered in monotone. 

You couldn’t understand yourself as to why you suddenly opposed his suggestion. Wasn’t your main objection being to take him downstairs? You could just walk away from him and have that same gut-wrenching feeling in your stomach. But your body wouldn’t allow you to move. Something snapped, those times of playful bickering started to build a form of lust and desire. Maybe now was the time to reveal the real reason behind the constant squabbles.

“Y/n, I said I’m s-”

“You know,” you started. “Our little fights always end up leaving me confused,” your gaze pandered between his dark forest green eyes and plump lips.

 From what you could remember, Eren constantly had some girl hooked up on him. Hell, he even got Mikasa wanting to try him out. But for some reason he could never really settle. His mind always seemed to wander to the same person, you. The squabbles could be played off as friendly but the feeling of wanting it to go further lingered. But as a result, it left you reaching for more, wanting him more. 

Eren’s heart pounds loud against his chest. He always felt as if going further wasn’t an option. He had his moments where he just wanted to hold you so close, as if he would die if he let go. Moments where he wanted to make you his. Perhaps if he did the things he thought of doing to you, how would he face the friend group, what about his fans, and Mikasa? He decided that acting upon his true feelings towards you was too risky.

“We’re friends Y/N” he confirms, his eyes soften under your gaze. Your eyes then pondered around his room. “Is that all you want to be?”

He huffs out an air of defeat. The sound of the ventilation buzzing was consuming the room.

“I-I” he stuttered as the pounding of his heart was breaking his sternum. He raises a hand to cover his rose-colored face.” Y/n what’s the point of this,” he audibly muffles. You reach up to pry his hand away from himself and hold it in your palms.

“I’m doing what I feel is right to me,” you reply with reason.

As corny as it felt, you no longer had interest in letting the feeling of desire leave you again.

“So, antagonizing me is what feels right to you? “Yup, that sounds just like you,” he speculated. Your face drops into a frown,” No dumbass.” Your fingers hook in the crevasses of his. Eren scrunches his eyebrows together in uncertainty. “Then what?” You place your intertwined hands over your heart that was protected by your flesh. “Us” you replied in a hush tone. It seems like Eren’s face couldn’t get any redder. Your hands enclosed over his, touching your chest, it felt as if he were in his recurring dream. This time, he was hoping there would be no interruptions to wake him.

“Are you fucking with me,” Eren interrogated in disbelief. Your skin began to spread warmth to your face. “Yes, I mean... no but I want to- if you know what I mean,” you ran over your words frantically. Still not connecting the dots, Eren’s head cranks his head to the side. You inhale a shaky breath” I can’t believe I’m saying this but…”

“Eren, I like you,” you sheepishly state. It was as if you could hear a needle drop on the floor. To make matters worse, the screaming vents were now hushed. “Well?” you quizzed. His eyes darkened as he stared through your soul. Your heart tanked to the lowest part of your stomach. Your confession has left you embarrassed and empty handed with no response.

That same damn feeling.

Your frustration grew as you started to pull your legs away from his waist. A hand jumped out to grasp at your thigh pulling you closer. You jump at the sudden movement. “I want you to say it again.” You could feel your blood pressure rising by the second. He got some nerve to try to humiliate you. “Hey, I finally have the courage to tell you- “

“Y/n, I want you to say it again,” he repeats while his eyes were capturing your psyche. You silence yourself as you can sense his serious demeanor. His eyes were dissecting every part of your face.

“I like you,” you whispered.

Suddenly, you felt your lower half become weightless. Your arms quickly wrapped around his neck for security. Eren’s arms gripped the back of your thighs as he moved towards his bed. It was like time was strolling through Molasses. You begin to study his face. So, tense and stern as if it was in concentration to finish a task. Just minutes ago, you were just stopping by to send a message from your friends. Now you were in his bed waiting for his next move.

Dropping you onto the bed, he stands in front of you, sighing while his eye sweeps over your face. You bite your lips anxiously not wanting to make any other part of your body move. Once again, the room continues its loud humming.  

 “I try so hard to resist, but you always seem to reel me back in.” You remain still as your thoughts race in your head. “Do you not care about what people will say,” He harshly grips his biceps.

“No”

His jaw clenches tightly. Why couldn’t you understand how risky it is for the both of you? The possible backlash of his viewers that was also used to seeing Mikasa on the stream. Mikasa possibly being jealous that the two of best friends are entangled in each other’s arms. He thought of the many outcomes of the situation which were all negative.

“Why can’t we keep it a secret, nobody has to know,” you crossed your arms against your chest. Eren walks towards you, stopping close as your legs almost touched. He leans over, his face nearing to yours. His minted breath tickles your nose.

 “Because Y/n, being around you, I can’t be secretive.” His closeness has you yearning, you crave him. Your eyes frantically search his, you could almost feel your heart jumping out your chest. Not waiting a second more, you crash your lips into his. Releasing years of tension and desire, you melt as your lips mesh together.

 He loses balance as you pull him on top of you. Regaining his composure, he leans in closer to your face. You hastily reach up to grab a hand full of his locks, enclosing his hair in your fingers. Eren groans as your grip tightens. His groan sends millions of nerve shocks to your core. You let out a soft moan into his mouth. A sudden wave of clarity hits you as it feels like you haven’t gotten his full approval. A quick smack could be heard as you pulled away from his lips.

“Are you okay with this, we can stop,” you inquire trying to steady your breathing. Eren chuckles as if your question were nothing but a joke. “I don’t think now is the right time to start asking questions.” You smile brightly leading him back to your lips. He then pushes harder into the kiss making you needlingly whine.

 He begins tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth. He sweeps his tongue in between your lips, exploring your warm mouth.  You lower your hands towards his pants, rubbing his hard print. Eren quickly pulls away from your mouth while pushing you back flat against his bed.

He now feels the temperature of the room increasing by the minute. He pulls the hem of his shirt over his head. Your eyes scan his toned body as he studies yours. He decides he wasn’t going to be the only one shirtless. “Arms up,” he commands you. You lift your arms over your head as he pulls your shift off. Now bare breasted you cover yourself up. “Don’t be shy now, should I cover mine too,” he joked covering his tanned nipples. You let out a short giggle, rolling your eyes revealing your chest. Eren smiles as he trails his lips down towards your breast.

You shiver as you feel his tongue leave hot kisses on its journey down south. He latches on to your hardened nipple, sucking and licking as he flicks the other in his hand. You jolt up panting from his touch. The sounds of you moaning tighten the grip of print in his pants. “Eren” you whimpered; your core was leaking more of your slick.

“Feels good?” he asked with a labored breath. “Mmhm,” you moaned. His fingers began to run up and down the sides of your legs. Your head grew hot and dazed, the warmth of his touch scorched your skin. He then lowers his head to peck your thighs leading down to your heated core. Your heart rate spiked as you knew these course of events officially change everything about your relationship with him. Eren’s eyes reach yours to ask to continue. You harshly swallow the hard ball of saliva stuck in your throat.

You then nod your head while swiping your tongue on your lips as the heat made them chapped. Your legs felt a strong pull as thighs were raised to the sides of your stomach. Swiftly, your panties were snatched away from your body. Then you look down to see his head ducked below your thighs. A wet long stripe swiped across your lower lips. Your legs quickly try to shut but eren’s reaction time was faster, catching them in his hands.

“You want me to stop?” He asks. You shook your head side to side in desperation for him to continue. “Then keep still, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you responded.

Settling back in between your thighs, you felt another long stripe now on your folds. “Oh fuck,” you cried. Your breath was hitching, you felt air being sucked out of your lungs. Eren could felt his cock get more sensitive as he rubs it against his pants. He towards the top of your pussy and puckered his lips around your needy bud, giving it several pecks.

“Oh my god, “ you moaned loudly. Your hands were clawing at your chest not having another place to settle. The sensation was overwhelming your body, the heat from the room and his mouth set you aflame. You felt a long intrusion prodded at your sopping hole, entering you slowly. You let a high-pitched squeal as you squeeze your eyes shut. Eren gazed up at your face turning in satisfaction. He lets out groan around your hard bud buzzing it into more pleasure.

“Yes, right there,” you screamed out. Eren works his fingers harder and deeper into your hole. Stretching and curling his long digits. The squelching of your dripping core and screams echoed around the room. Eren began to feel the grip of your walls tighten and loosening, letting him know you were close to your speedy climax.

“Eren, more please,” you needily whined pushing yourself closer to his face. He then removed his fingers and plunged his tongue into your hot core, swirling it around. Once again glancing up, he peeks at your pleasured face, lips falling into a perfect “o”. His fingers start to circle around your clit. Your feet curl up and down over his broad shoulders. While soaking and scavenging your hole, he brushed over a small plush button. Your thick arousal dripped on to his black satin sheets leaving a damp puddle underneath you.

You gasp hard as you arched your back off the bed. He smirks as he hits the sensitive spot over and over. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your stomach clenched.  “I’m gonna cum,” you panted wearily. You felt his pace on your bud and hole quicken faster than before. He presses deep into you, numbing the spot that weakened your senses.

“Ahhh, yess” you hiss in despair. The band in your stomach begins to ripple harshly. He pinches your clit tightly in between his fingers, yanking the nerves upwards. In an instant, your walls clench and stutter profusely.  Panting and crying out, as Eren decides to rub you through your orgasm making you whine in pain.

“Eren, no more, please!”

He shushes you while enthusiastically applying more pressure on your bud. The sensation of you needing to release again ached you. Fluids suddenly began spurting from your overstimulated cunt. You cry out as drool seeping out your gaping mouth.

“goooood girl,” he praises you, slowly drawing circles on your clit. As your breath settles, he slowly removes his fingers from you. Looking over, he presents his dampen fingers to you. “You might wanna get a- “

Eren slipped the wet digits into his mouth, licking and slurping your juices from his hand. Blood drained from your face as you watched him pop his fingers out of his mouth. He smiles at your astonished reaction.

“You taste good,” he smirked. “Shut up!” you angrily yelled. He then began moving closer towards you. 

“Wanna try?”

“Eren, I swear to god, get away from me,” you shouted grabbing the covers from underneath to protect you. “Come here~” he teases. He quickly makes his way to your side while cackling. You shriek, a gasp of wind grazes you as he rips the blankets away from your bare body.

“NO,” you scream out as his face is inches away from yours. Eren halted his body from moving further. “You actually don’t want to try it?” he questions. You slightly turn your head away from his deep green eyes. 

“Well, I- uhm”, you nervously stammer out. Eren softly smiles at your demeanor in enjoyment, “it’s embarrassing,” he finishes for you.

“It’s embarrassing,” you shyly confirm while nodding your head. His fingertips rest at the bottom of your face, tenderly pushing it back to face him. Your eyes attach to his, occasionally shifting to his plump lips. “Listen, I’m not gonna force you,” he assures.” But it was funny watching you scream,” his dimple forms on his cheeks as he breaks out in laughter. You frown in humiliation but soon, bits of giggles spill from your mouth. Your joined laughter filled your bodies with happiness, neither you nor he wanted it to fade into the abyss.

Eren laughter dies out as he focuses once again on your face. His thumb reaches your lips, gently brushing over them. Your eyes saturated with temptation, inching closer to his warm lips. He understood your command, closing the thin gap between the both of you, your mouths gracefully settled on each other. You could feel your chest twist and twirl in excitement.

 Could it be love? No, no, that’s a tad bit heavy to use the L word on the same day of your confession. It felt too light label it as a crush. Whatever it was, bonded the cracks of your heart that formed each day that came before this one.

Letting the kiss linger a second longer, you could taste a reminisce of a sweet and tangy flavor on his mouth.  You pulled back from him allowing a sigh to slip out, “I wanna try it,” you confessed. Eren’s eyebrows slanted in confusion, “You already did”.

“No, I did- OH!” You shouted covering your mouth. You jokingly smacked your lips together to taste yourself again, “you’re right I don’t taste bad”. Eren smiles at your blatant wittiness, it’s one of the things he most admires about you. The quick jabs you throw at him and the rest of the group, it seems he’s the only one who manages to keep up. 

The mention of the group assisted in his daze to drift to the main purpose of you being here. “Y/n, we should probably head down now, it’s been while since you left them”. You slid your shirt over your head as you hummed in agreement. He follows your lead and begins to put his shirt on.

Time seems to pass on fast, in a span of minutes you were introduced and teased on his stream, let out your confession and allowed the man you have been eyeing out on for years to devour you.

“Dammit,” you stoop down to look under his bed. “What are you looking for”, he inquires also tilting his head down. Your hands blindly wander under his bed frame, “I can’t find my underwear”. The constant slapping of your hand against his floor was tiring and the lack of light in his room didn’t help with your searching.

 “Oh, you mean these”, your head turns up towards the brunette boy. His hands hold the panties, balled up and enclosed under his fingers. You stride towards him quickly as he grins, eyeing your exposed lower parts.

 “Eren, give it to me,” you warned sternly. He backs up raising the panties behind his head, “it was so good you’re begging for more huh?” he taunts.

You angrily step closer to him, “Eren!” you gritted your teeth. “I don’t know I think it’ll kind of be exciting to free ball it, don’t you think”, he laughs still steps backwards. 

“Fuck you,” you angrily retort.

“Ah, we’ll get to that another time, don’t wanna be too needy”.

Finally reaching him, you stare with dagger in your pupils. Not a peep could be heard as he stares back with levity, seeing this as nothing but fun. Your eyes shift between the parallel green ones, fury congests your stomach. Eren fights the urge to grab your face and push your soft lips on his. 

“Whatever”, you huffed out in defeat, going to put your shorts back on. He smiles lightly, retreating his prize into his top dresser drawer. You make your way towards his door ready to exit but something still nagged at your thoughts.

“Eren, what is this now”, you questioned in concern. He slides the band out of his hair, making the brown locks frame his face and shoulders. “You mean, what’s going on between us,” he asks with vagueness. “Mmhm” You hummed wanting him to continue. 

“Oh yeah, your mine for sure”, he carelessly raked his fingers through his tresses. You felt heat flash across your cheeks, flustered by the fact that you were now in his possession. 

Eren then bites the band while gathering his hair into one fist in the back of his head. The back side of his biceps strained; veins flexed as his grip tightened on his hair. You stare at the voluptuous muscles that fought against his flesh. The boy finally places the band in his other hand then ties it into a somewhat presentable bun.

“Even in front of them”, you questioned referring to your joined friend group. The door was now ajar, the light of the hallway bled into his room making the luminesce shine on your body. “We’ll talk more later, let’s eat,” he mumbled nodding his head into the lit-up hall. You whispered a quick “okay” as you made your way out and soon, he follows right after.

Darkness had absorbed every spec of light in the room, except one blinking spot of red on Eren’s desktop.

   ⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢୨୧⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢୨୧⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ 

“And I even got the chance to hold one”, Armin boasted proudly. The other remaining friends gathered around the table excited to hear about Armin’s oceanic studies. Food was placed on the counter waiting to be consumed, mainly waiting to be consumed by Sasha as she anxiously stared at the thinning steam that rose from the pot.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit dangerous to only be for a general research assignment”, Jean asks in genuine concern for the blond. “No, not at all”, Armin answers while swiping between photos on his phone of the sea animal he held. Jean sighs in defeat, what a way to be reckless for an extracurricular class.

Mikasa sat in between the 2 blondes, patiently waiting for you and eren’s arrival. She pondered at clock resting against the wall. It’s ticking reminding her every second and minute goes by without the appearance of her 2 friends up the stairs. 

“It’s going on fifteen minutes now”, she informs the group. “I'm sure they’ll be down in a sec”, armin reassured while glancing at the time on his phone. 

“Yeah whatever, who’s idea was to wait for him anyway”, the food fiend groaned.  Armin and Mikasa accusingly pointed their fingers towards Jean. “ I thought it would be a nice way of gathering together”, his face painted in pink.” “Mama’s boy”, Sasha muttered under her breath. 

“ Hey, I heard that! ”

Connie, too consumed by his phone to engage in conversation decided to do a check up on his socials. Twitter was the first choice, he laughed obnoxiously at a couple of tweets from people he followed closely. Afterwards, he viewed the current top 10 trending topics.

 Elon Musk, a copycat.

Megan thee Stallion, she can step on me.

One Piece Live action, mid.

Jaegermeister exposed, about damn time.

 It wouldn’t be surprising if eren did a tip slip, that wouldn’t be the worst thing he could’ve done. Connie, not anticipating the unexpected, lazily pressed the bolded subhead. Automatically, the top video began to play out, his breathing came to a sudden pause; pupils dilated in shock.

  “No way”

Tagged:

@sofamochi​   @bootlegroach   @nafi-2004  

[compactstreamer]

(source)

Transcript below the cut:

Roscoe: You could say Jerma985 is something of a performance artist. He creates huge, elaborate, surreal productions complete with cast and crew, and it's all streaming live for hundreds of thousands on viewers on Twitch. NPR's Alex Cheng takes us inside Jerma's latest big show, a baseball game between clowns and magicians, to ask how—and more importantly—why?

[clip of Sportscaster continues in background: Welcome to Carshield Field, where we have Jerma Baseball Association action for you!]

Cheng: At a baseball stadium in suburban St. Louis...

[Sportscaster: ...a big-time match-up between the California Circus and the Maryland Magicians...]

Cheng: ...a team of clowns in full face makeup and baseball uniforms runs out onto the field. Those clowns played a four-hour game of baseball in real time against the Magicians in the opposing dugout, and tens of thousands of viewers tuned into the live-stream on Twitch. There were breathtaking acrobatic displays...

[Sportscaster: Actually we've got three outfielders unicycling currently!]

Cheng: ... and even the umpire himself stepped up to the plate.

[Sportscaster: The umpire is about to enter this game for California?!]

Cheng: That umpire was the mastermind behind the whole show, Jeremy Elbertson, better known as the streamer Jerma985.

Jerma: I'm just, y'know, calling balls and strikes and doing all these wacky things. I'm just, in my mind I'm going "I hope this is funny. I hope this is funny. I hope this is funny."

Cheng: To create this high-production fantasy world, Jerma had to hire real baseball players, real circus performers, and actors from across the country who wanted to play make-believe. He gave his cast an outline of the baseball game, along with pages and pages of gags he'd come up with, but he let them make decisions on the fly.

Jerma: It's like a live comedy improv show.

Cheng: And Jerma says the real key is his relationship with his streaming audience on Twitch.

Jerma: I'm coming up with a scenario that I think is a fun time for everybody. That's all I care about.

Cheng: Cecilia D'Anastasio covers the video game industry for Bloomberg. She says these big, performance-arty shows are unusual for Twitch.

D'Anastasio: What Twitch's bread and butter is, is a streamer going about their life quite casually and playing video games and just chatting with their fanbases.

Cheng: So why does Jerma do these shows on Twitch, instead of making a movie or a TV show? Well, for one, the liveness of the platform creates a unique sense of unreality, and of course, money is always a consideration.

Jerma: Movies are expensive. Way more expensive than trying to get a bunch of people together to do a show on Twitch for a few hours.

Cheng: Jerma studied communications and video production in college. Then, about a decade ago, he started messing around on YouTube.

[clip of Jerma continues in background: Hello Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to episode one of Jermacraft!]

Cheng: Several years later, he switched his focus to Twitch. He mostly streamed normal gaming stuff, which he still does plenty of, but he also tried a couple of small, outside-the-box experiments, like hooking himself up to a lie detector to answer questions from viewers, or...

Jerma: I hired a fake family to come be my family at a family dinner.

Cheng: Jerma built a team of collaborators, some from his tight-knit viewer community, and together they started staging bigger and bigger events. Things hit a high point in August of 2021 with the Jerma985 Dollhouse Stream.

[Jerma Dollhouse theme music plays in background]

Cheng: Imagine a live-action version of the video game The Sims, on a sound stage, with a big cast and crew, and starring, of course, Jerma.

Jerma: The nature of that whole show was "I'm a person in a house, you get to decide what I get to do."

Cheng: Over three days of streams, Jerma's viewers made him simulate eating, sleeping. They even made him fight a bear.

[clip of Jerma in the dollhouse: You wanna do what?!?]

Cheng: Or at least, a guy in a bear costume.

[clip continues with Jerma yelling, bear grunting, and audience applause]

Cheng: The show was a smash hit. The third day of the Dollhouse peaked at over 100,000 concurrent viewers. That's a lot for Twitch. Cecilia D'Anastasio at Bloomberg says popular streamers can make good money on the platform.

D'Anastasio: Subscriptions, donations from fans, advertising, sponsorship deals.

Cheng: But Jerma's big shows are way more expensive than sitting in a gamer chair playing Elden Ring. They may not be on the scale of a movie, but Jerma says some of his productions can cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, so he has to find big-money sponsors for his events.

Jerma: It can be a real challenge trying to convince a team of marketing people, "Hey so there's this idea, it's gonna cost a lot of money, and it's gonna be really fun, don't you think?"

Cheng: And some big sponsors are seeing the potential. Jerma says the shows are paying for themselves. For the Dollhouse stream, Coinbase chipped in, and Jerma found new sponsors for the baseball stream. Here's D'Anastasio again.

D'Anastasio: It's not that the streaming space is maturing, it's that it has matured.

Cheng: But even if Jerma's big shows are making money now, he knows there are no guarantees in the world of live-streaming.

Jerma: Nobody really knows how long this is gonna last. Does this evolve and become even larger than it is now, or does it go bust at some point?

[clip of Sportscasters continues in background: And oh my goodness, everyone clearing the dugout!--oh, clearing the bench--the Maryland Magicians... oh my goodness, this is bad!]

Cheng: Why fight for a vision that's so hard to explain and even harder to realize? Like making clowns brawl with magicians on a baseball diamond.

[Sportscasters: Oh boy--utter chaos!--This is just an all-out brawl, the mascots are stripping down...]

Jerma: Why not? It sounds like fun, and it seems like something that could make a lot of people happy, so I'm gonna do it.

Cheng: Alex Cheng, NPR News.

[instrumental outro music plays]