#the kitchen counter is barely the right size

[thesquidkid]

Matt Murdock's apartment in Lego

Timelapse under the read more

6 hours 15 minutes spread over a few weeks

mecabricks link to the model here

[nerdlvr]

not so little is it?

(MDNI)

younger jaemin x older reader , small age gap , jaemin is brothers best friend , ur brother is mark lee , big dick jaem , jaem is bigger than reader , size kink if you squint , kinda public sex (ur both in the kitchen & living room and mark is in his room) , harsh blowjob , cowgirl yeehaw , couch missionary , jaemin is cocky and mean , pet names like a lot , light mocking , degradation kinda , jaemin refers to himself and y/n in third person sometimes idk , jaemin knows how to use his dick damn... , requested here !

it  had been the fifth time that night that you had called jaemin baby. and not baby in a i wanna fuck you type of way, baby in a little boy type of way. If only you could go into his brain and see all the things jaemin would do to shut you up. maybe he’d stuff your mouth with his big, hard-

“babyy, are you listening? The popcorns ready!”

jaemin felt his eye twitch, a small fake smile directed at your pretty face. he shook his head softly, turning his head back to focus on the movie.

“dude you need to stop calling him that, we’re not even that much younger than you.”

jaemin could not agree more with your brother.

he was never one to hold grudges, it was childish, unlike him. but for some reason you had been more annoying than usual tonight, the high pitched ‘baby’ and the sweet toned ‘minnie’ only itching him in all the wrong places.

he turned to the clock in mark’s room, 2:00 AM, well shit. had he really laid here for 3 hours straight thinking about your annoying mouth? his eyes drifted down to his now tented boxers, well double shit. maybe thinking about your mouth right next to your sleeping brother wasn’t the best idea. he needed a walk.

.

the cool air from the fridge numbed his senses, his nipples perking up at the soft breeze.

ice cream, butter, cheese, ew. did mark have anything without milk? wait isn’t mark lactose intoler- “his fridge looks like something out of a horror film right?”jaemin felt the hair on his body rise as he jumped, the fridge shutting loudly behind him, a hand coming up to his chest, “jesus you scared me.”

you giggled as you poked his bare chest, "sorry didn't mean to scare you baby. was just coming out for a snack."

baby, did you like to test his patience? he pushed your hand away as he let out a loud huff, "don't call me that."

your soft giggle continued to ring in his ears, your hands now moving to pinch the fabric of his boxers, "call you what, bunny boy?"

his eyes drifted down to his boxers, small bunnies adorning the fabric. he grabbed your wandering hand, smirking as you let out a pained whine. "does your mouth do anything good besides spout nonsense?"

you ripped your hand away from his tightening grasp, your free hand coming up to massage the sensitive skin,"what's your problem jaemin? i'm being nice to you and you're acting like a brat!"

your eyes widened slightlyy as a scoff left his mouth, lips quirking up into a smirk, "nice? you're treating me like a fucking child y/n. i stopped being little years ago. maybe you've been too busy bitching to even notice!"

your heads turned quickly as you heard shuffling from mark's room, his sleepy groans muffled by the thick walls.

"whatever tough guy, i'm leaving, your attitude ruined my appetite."

his arms were quick to stop you, trapping you against the kitchen counter, "where do you think you're going? where's my apology?"

it was your turn to scoff, eyes rolling at his questions. "apology? grow up na jaemin, you're not getting an apology if i did nothing wrong." you pushed at his chest, muscles firm against your hands. when did he get so strong? you mumbled out a low move embarrassed by your lack of strength against him.

he chuckled, breath fanning against your face, "give it one more go baby, maybe this time you might get it."

you bit your lip, head turning to look anywhere besides his bare chest, "this isn't funny, move or i'll-"

"you'll do what y/n?" he licked his lips, smirking down at you.

damn you na jaemin, damn you and those strong muscles, damn you and those plump lips, damn you and this new attitude that is so so hot. you gulped loudly, looking away as you tried to sneakily squeeze your thighs together, heat building between you legs.

"something wrong?"he leaned in closer to you, lips just one breath away. you turned your head further away from him, edge of the counter pressing deep into your back.

"you think being immature is cute jaemin? get off of me!"

he pressed his forehead against the side of your head, breath fanning against your ear. "no-"

he lifted his leg slightly, using his his knee to gently press against your core. you bit your lip to stifle a moan, head lowering just enough to watch his knuckles turn white against the counter. "but you clearly do. been squeezing these pretty thighs together since i started raising my voice at you."

you kept quiet, eyes squeezing shut as his knee pressed further against your heat, "who's the baby now hm?" you ignored him, brain zoning into to light pressure being applied to your clit, only a light hum being your response.

"answer me when i'm talking to you." your eyes fluttered open as he gripped your chin, moving your face so you'd look at him, "m-me jaem."

he tilted his head, smirk growing wider, "what was that?"

you swallowed your pride. there's no way you're gonna miss this opportunity. "i-i'm the baby jaem." he could help but chuckle, leaning in to plant a wet kiss on your cheek, "good girl, you learn quick. now lets put that bratty little mouth to good use."

you sunk onto your knees like your body was possessed, hands coming up to tug at his boxers. his cock sprung free, slapping his toned stomach. he was big, tip flushed and leaking.

his hand was quicker than yours, grabbing onto the base of his length to slap it against your cheek."not so little huh? call me baby again little brat."

"b-bab-" he chuckled as your words came out gargled, his cock being shoved into your mouth to silence you, "you look better with your mouth full." your eyes squeezed shut as you focused on your breathing, jaw relaxing slightly.

he was heavy on your tongue, smooth skin rubbing against the sides of your mouth. you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him in further. "shit angel, mouth so good, keep doing that."

you bobbed your head against him, spit threatening to spill past your lips. the sight above you was heavenly, pink hair held up with his hands as his mouth hung open. he let out soft pants as he tried his best not to thrust into your mouth. "let me- fuck- let me do it."

his hands moved into your hair to hold your head steady, hips starting to pick up a rhythm. you batted your lashes up at him, soft moans spilling from your mouth as he pressed deeper into your mouth, "look so pretty like this- just wanna-"

you gagged loudly as he pushed the rest of his length into your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat. he held you there, your nose pressed against his pubic hair as you swallowed around him.

his groans went straight to your core, thighs squeezing impossibly tighter. he pulled you off in one swift motion, laughing as you gasped for air, eyes watery and lips swollen.

"look at you-" he slapped your face lightly, "acting so grown and can't even take my cock- get up and turn around."

but you remained on your knees, whimpering as you wiped at your mouth. you hadn't noticed you were crying until jaemin leaned down, warms hands rubbing your cheeks, "awe you crybaby, minnie's cock got you all worked up hm?"

you pushed his hands away struggling to get up, legs sore from the kitchen tiles. his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you against his chest, "still so stubborn, baby just needs some good dick fucked into her so she'll learn hm?"

he laughed at your weak yelp, his arms lifting you up as he walked towards to living room, "now you're gonna show me how much you need this dick."

he sat on the couch, placing you right on his lap, face to face with you. "go on put it in." your cute pouts did nothing to him as he moved his arms to rest them on the back of the couch, head nodding to urge you to continue.

you whined softly as you hovered your hips over him, hand coming down to push your panties and sleep shorts aside. your cheeks burned as you both looked towards your heat, wetness dripping onto his length. he threw his head back as he let out a soft groan, "fuck baby, what would mark think about me having his big sis dripping all over me hm? like the idea of getting fucked by me that much?"

you nodded quickly shame evaporating from your body as you began to rub his tip along your soaking cunt. he hissed under you, his hands gripping the couch cushions, "don't tease baby, wanna feel you."

you sunk down slightly, hollowly fucking yourself on his tip. your bottom lip was trapped between you teeth, body leaned back as you gripped onto jaemin's thighs. he couldn't help but groan at the sight of you, body covered up by your pjs but your pussy on full display.

he moved his hand to your tummy, fingers slipping under your shirt to pull the fabric over your tits, "fuck, you little minx, look at you dripping on my cock- shit, keep going."

you whined loudly, soft pants leaving your desperate lips as you sunk down on him, the stretch hot against your walls."c-can't jaem, too-"

his hand gripped you breast, rolling your sensitive nipples against his fingers. he pouted up at you, a slight tilt to his head, "can't what baby, hm? minnie's dick to big for my little princess?"

you huffed in embarrassment, cheeks burning red as you threw your head back to hide.

"that's okay angel-" his hands traveled down to your hips, a light chuckle leaving his lips as he lifted his hips to meet yours. the loud slap of your hips vibrated against the living room walls, a soft cry leaving your lips as you leaned forward, stuffing your face into jaemin's neck.

"it's okay-" his hips began to move, your slick making it easy for him to slide against your walls, "you can take it baby see? you're so good for me- fuck"

you whined against his neck, walls tightening around his length as he slapped his hips up. "jaem, jaem, please, oh my- feels so good baby, so deep."

he laughed at your small squeak as he suddenly picked you up, placing you in the corner of the couch, your back pressed against the soft cushion,

"i'm gonna need you to be quiet now okay princess? don't want mark to know how good i'm fucking his big sis hm?"

you nodded quickly, mouth hanging open as he slid back into you without warning, a small moan leaving his lips. "fuck jaem i can't- just please, want it so bad jaem, plea-" your hand flew to your mouth to muffle your loud moans, his hips moving to repeatedly slam into you, his length angled in just the right position.

"fuckkk yes bunny, look at you. pretty pussy sucking me in so good." his pace was relentless, one of your hands having to muffle your moans and the other gripping his arm for stability. you sunk into the couch, cushions bouncing under you from each thrust.

he leaned down close to you, body radiating heat against your chest, "want you to cum baby, i'm so close, so clo- fuck yeah baby just like that, so fucking tight shit."

you squeezed around him your stomach tightening as his words filled your ears. all you could think about was jaemin. his strong arms surrounding you, his warm body enveloping you, his soft moans urging you to cream on him and- oh. he hand flew down to your core, finger pressing gently on your clit, "come on angel, cum for me, wanna feel it, need it baby, please."

you squeezed your eyes shut, teeth clamping around your hand as you arched your hips up. the tight feeling in your stomach radiating throughout you, body shaking as you let go.

he stilled inside you, head pressed into your neck to muffle his own moans as he came inside you, whimpers of your name leaving his lips as he panted against you, "fuck, fuck, fuck, so good, so good for me bunny, you did so good."

he kissed around your neck, lips trailing up onto your lips. the kiss was sweet, soft touch of his lips making your body tingle. his grip was warm against you as he held your trembling body.

"shhh, it's okay, you're okay-" he kissed your cheeks, hands rubbing your sides, "minnie's here baby, i got you, everythings-"

you sunk deeper into the couch as you heard the fridge door slam shut, watching as jaemin's eyes landed on the kitchen entrance, "jaem?" mark's sleepy voice broke the silence, "what are you doing out here?"

jaemin stuttered slightly, pink cheeks still evident against the dim lighting,"i- i was just-" you heard mark take a loud sip of something, clearing his throat after, "if this is about my sister- she's, she's just annoying, all that baby stuff is just her being annoying. you know- sometimes i even kinda feel like she might like you or something."

jaemin bit his lip, only a loud mhm being his response as his now soft length slid out of you, "yeah so, don't let it get to you jaem, get to bed alright?"

jaemin nodded, saying a quick goodnight as mark left his sight. he looked down towards you, a scared look on your face, "so you're into younger guys, huh bunny?"

your giggles filled the small space as you rolled your eyes, hand gently slapping his chest. he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on your lips, a wide grin on his face, "don't worry, i like bratty older women too."

[ceilidho]

prompt: reader is hired as a live in house cleaner because ghost is always away and he only comes back on leave and he insists she stay in the guest room. Over time he increasingly acts like she’s his live in girlfriend or something. Very confusing for reader lmao.

-

The job comes at the exact right time. 

The way you stumble onto your new job is a bit dicey, if you’re being honest. You’ve been meaning to get out of the waitressing life for a while—the tips are shit and the number of times that you’ve had your backside pinched has slowly but steadily climbed into the double digits. You just haven’t had direction; somewhere to go. 

Your savior comes in the form of a six foot plus soldier. Oh, he doesn’t tell you that, but his body language speaks for itself. 

At first, even the sight of him makes your belly clench and palms sweat like when you watch rock climbing documentaries or parkour videos online (all moist and clammy and you have to wipe them on your jeans before shaking his hand). He’s a one-time customer at your little roadside diner that gradually becomes a repeat offender. 

He comes at odd times, sometimes disappearing for a month or two before he’s back to sitting in the booth at the back of the diner with his back against the wall. You smile shakily when you pour him coffee after coffee. He never eats. Always sits in the same booth, dressed in the same black hoodie that does nothing to hide the sheer size of him and a black surgical mask that he never removes. He has a sixth sense for when you’re watching him from behind the counter, waiting for him to take a sip.

You never do catch a glimpse of his face. Not completely anyway. You know him only by the faint smell of gunpowder and metal that clings to him like a second skin, and the feeling of his calloused hand against yours. 

Like ice slowly chipping off a glacier that one day cracks, a huge chunk splintering off and crashing into the sea, you know nothing about him until you’re suddenly in his house. Simon, he tells you, and the sound of his name awakens something in you. He needs a housekeeper and you need a reason to leave. 

You quit the diner; barely even put in a week’s notice. 

The day you drive up the long beaten road up to his property, a cabin deep in the English countryside, clear blue skies follow you. Clouds crisp, delicate even. Simon takes you through the house, showing you to the guest room where you’ll be staying while he’s away. He never directly confirms your suspicions, but the faint tightness around his eyes when he mentions his job tells you all you need to know. No wonder he needs someone to keep the house in order. Never around to do it himself.

Then he’s gone, swift as a ghost. You wake up in the guest room to a hastily scrawled note on your bedside table and a faint feeling of loss. 

You scrub tiles and dust the top bit of the fan that everyone always misses; you mow the lawn, clean the gutters, and sit under the shade of a poplar tree with a glass of lemonade in the early evenings. If you look up into the tree, you’ll see spiders and squirrel nests. It’s almost therapeutic. 

Weeks pass at a time. Simon reemerges like clear skies between periods of rain. Sometimes even before you wake up, you can feel the change like lighting sizzling in the air, crackling hot under your fingertips and then stumbling into the kitchen to find him leaning against the counter, coffee already brewing. You blush into an apology that he waves off.

Good soldier. Better boss. 

You fall into a routine, something of a cadence that is only interrupted by Simon’s hands on your hips when he moves you out of the way to grab a mug from the top shelf. His finger brushing over the curve of your cheekbone to wipe away flour smudged on your cheek. Then he’s gone again, passing through like a ghost. 

Perhaps he’s a more tactile man than you originally assumed. Something about the way he held himself in those first few weeks in the diner suggested otherwise, the way he seemed to radiate a latent hostility. Do not get close. You read this in the general slope of his eyebrows and the scars across his muscled forearms up until he reaches out to touch you, growing more and more comfortable with you around.

“You alright, love?” said into your ear on a warm night when Simon materializes onto the couch beside you, practically out of thin air. Your heart almost bursts in your chest. 

When you turn, he’s as beautiful as ever, honey burnt eyes staring out from behind a balaclava this time. Still dresses in his standard issue tactical pants, the faint smear of grime and gore around the ankles. There’s a lump in your throat when you smile. 

He smells richer now. Deeper, like the forest floor. Like crawling through mud and spider webs and a thick, cloying miasma of desperation. 

“Sorry—I didn’t know you’d be back,” you apologize, going to rise up to your feet. It feels wrong to commandeer his house when he’s on leave, even though you live here too.

A heavy hand on your shoulder pulls you down, settling you to his side. “Off your feet now—there you go, atta girl. No sense getting up; show’s not even done.” 

He angles you back to face the TV and tugs you into his lap almost effortlessly. You do not look back, even when you feel him slip the balaclava off, hot breath fanning over your neck. Not even when fingers play over the thin line of skin where your shirt rides up. You blink like your eyes are gummy and try not to shudder when his thumb dips underneath your shirt.

[faebled-stories]

Perfect Pitch

Kinkvember Day 28: Size Difference.

LOONA/Loossemble Im Yeojin x Male reader

13.6k words

AN: I did my best to get this out in time for you all! Finals are next week, and I’ve been stressing and studying like crazy😅. Hope you guys enjoy. 💖

PS: 2 More fics left.

Sunlight filters through the blinds in your kitchen, painting soft, golden streaks across the walls and counters. The warm light blends with the muted grays and creamy tones of the decor, giving the space a comforting glow. The air carries the rich aroma of pancakes sizzling on the stove, their edges crisping just right as the batter bubbles and pops. Outside, sparrows chirp in the distance, their song weaving into the quiet hum of morning.

In the doorway, Yeojin appears, shuffling in with a sleepy grace. She’s draped in one of your oversized shirts, the fabric hanging loosely around her, brushing her knees. The sleeves are far too long, barely revealing her fingertips as she rubs at her eyes. Her hair is an artful mess, strands falling into her face in a way that somehow makes her look effortlessly adorable. A soft yawn escapes her lips as her gaze sweeps over the scene, and when her eyes meet yours, a small, sleepy smile tugs at her mouth.

“Morning, slugger,” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep as she pads toward the kitchen island.

You chuckle softly, flipping a pancake with practiced ease. “Morning, princess. Finally decided to join the land of the living?”

She groans, sliding onto a stool and propping her chin in her hand. “Barely. What time is it?”

“Early,” you reply, your tone teasing. “But I figured you’d want breakfast before I head out.”

Her gaze drifts toward the stove, watching the pancake batter sizzle as you pour another ladleful onto the skillet. “Smells amazing,” she says, her lips curving into a lazy grin. “You’re spoiling me.”

“Just doing my duty,” you reply smoothly, sliding a golden pancake onto the growing stack. You glance over your shoulder at her, catching the way she’s watching you—not just the pancakes, but you, with that fond, unguarded look that always catches you off guard.

Yeojin props herself up straighter, reaching for the syrup bottle. “You know,” she says, tilting the bottle with exaggerated precision, “you might be the only reason I eat breakfast at all.”

“Wow, no pressure,” you joke, setting the plate in front of her. “Guess that makes me essential.”

“Obviously,” she replies, rolling her eyes as she picks up her fork. She takes a bite, her eyes fluttering closed as she lets out a pleased hum. “Okay, yeah. Definitely spoiled.”

You smirk, leaning against the counter with your own plate. “It’s part of the package, princess. Breakfast, charm, the occasional rescue from top shelves. What more could you ask for?”

She shoots you a mock glare, though her grin betrays her. “First of all, I could totally reach the top shelf if I tried.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure. With a stepladder.”

Laughing, she tosses a piece of pancake at you, which you dodge easily. “You’re the worst,” she mutters, though her giggles linger as she takes another bite. “And I don’t need you to remind me.”

“Just keeping you humble,” you tease, grabbing a bite of your own. The room falls into a comfortable quiet, the soft clink of silverware filling the space as you both eat.

After a moment, she glances up at you, resting her chin in her hand again. “You know,” she says softly, “you’re kind of unfair.”

You pause mid-bite, raising an eyebrow. “Unfair? How?”

She gestures at you vaguely with her fork. “This. All of it. Making pancakes, being charming, looking like that in the morning light—”

You laugh, setting your fork down. “Looking like what?”

“You know what I mean,” she mutters, cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s distracting.”

“Distracting?” you echo, leaning closer across the counter. “Is that a compliment?”

“Don’t push it,” she says quickly, though the blush spreading across her cheeks gives her away.

Grinning, you lean even closer, resting your elbows on the counter. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

Her eyes widen, and she grabs a napkin to hide her face. “Shut up,” she mumbles, though the laughter in her voice is unmistakable.

You chuckle, reaching across to gently tug the napkin away. “Hey, I’m just being honest.”

She narrows her eyes at you, but the corners of her mouth twitch upward. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” you reply easily, standing straight again. You glance at the clock, sighing as you grab your cap from the counter. “Alright, I’ve got to head to practice. Can’t keep the team waiting.”

Yeojin’s expression shifts slightly, a mix of playful and reluctant. “You’re leaving already?”

“Unfortunately,” you say, slipping the cap on. “Coach might actually kill me if I’m late again.”

Before you can make it to the door, though, Yeojin hops off her stool and darts toward you, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind. “Not so fast,” she says, her voice muffled against your back. “You’re not leaving without a proper goodbye.”

Laughing, you stop mid-step and turn, gently prying her arms loose. Before she can retreat, you scoop her up effortlessly, your hands finding their place beneath her thighs as her legs wrap snugly around your waist. She lets out a surprised laugh, her arms instinctively looping around your neck as you hold her close.

“Better?” you ask, tilting your head slightly, the corners of your mouth lifting into a teasing smile.

She pretends to think about it, her gaze narrowing playfully. “Hmm, almost,” she says, her lips quirking up as she leans in to rest her forehead against yours.

“Almost?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. Without waiting for her reply, you shift slightly and press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. Her laughter fades as she melts into the kiss, her arms tightening around your neck as her fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt. When you finally pull back, your nose brushing hers, you murmur, “How about now?”

Her cheeks flush, and for a moment, she looks speechless. Then she tilts her head, her grin mischievous. “Nope. Not even close,” she says, though the laughter bubbling in her voice gives her away.

“Not even close?” you repeat, feigning disbelief. “I’m starting to think you’re just making excuses.”

“I might be,” she replies, her smile widening. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Instead of answering, you plant a series of quick, playful kisses across her cheeks, forehead, and the tip of her nose. She squeals between giggles, her fingers tightening their grip around your neck as she tries, and fails, to stifle her laughter.

“Okay, okay!” she gasps through her laughter, burying her face into your shoulder. “That’s enough—wait, no, one more.”

You chuckle, tipping her chin up with your thumb. This kiss is slower, deeper, a silent promise in the way your lips linger against hers. When you pull back, her eyes flutter open, her gaze soft and slightly hazy.

“There,” you murmur, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Now are you happy?”

Her voice is quieter this time, but no less teasing. “I don’t know. You might have to remind me again later.”

Laughing, you bounce her slightly in your arms. “You’re something else.”

“And you love it,” she counters, the confidence in her voice making you grin. Then, her expression softens, and she adds, “And I love you.”

The words settle between you, warm and familiar, but they still catch you off guard in the best way. Smiling, you press your forehead to hers. “I love you too.”

For a moment, neither of you moves, the quiet intimacy grounding you in the golden glow of the kitchen. Then, as if sensing the world creeping back in, she gives you a light shove. “Okay, you can go now. But don’t you forget—”

“Let me guess,” you interrupt, smirking as you finally set her down. “Good luck charm?”

“Exactly,” she says, grinning up at you as her feet touch the ground. “You’d be lost without me.”

“Lost, huh?” you tease, brushing another quick kiss against her temple. “Guess that means I’ll have to keep you close.”

She rolls her eyes, but the blush on her cheeks gives her away. “Get out of here before I change my mind about letting you go.”

As you grab your cap and head for the door, her voice stops you in your tracks. “Hey,” she calls out, a playful lilt in her tone, “don’t forget to come back in one piece… because, you know, I sort of love you.”

You pause in the doorway, turning back to meet her gaze. A soft smile spreads across your face, your eyes warm with affection. “I love you too,” you reply, your voice steady and full of meaning.

Her laughter follows you as you step outside, the sound lingering like the warmth of her touch and the memory of her kiss—a quiet reminder of everything waiting for you when you return.

-----

The way back to her dorm isn’t a quick one, she slips through the gates and into the stillness of the early morning. Her steps are light against the cool floor of the dim hallway, grateful for the quiet that greets her. Tugging at the hem of your shirt, she catches the faintest trace of you on the fabric: a warm blend of syrup, a hint of your cologne, and something uniquely yours. Your scent wraps around her like a whispered promise, bringing a secret smile to her lips, a reminder of your late-night talks, quiet laughter, and the comfortable silences that make her feel close to you, even when miles apart.

As she opens her door and takes a couple of quiet steps, her sneaky return comes to a sudden halt. Hyeju appears, leaning casually against the wall with her arms crossed, already wearing a smirk that tugs at one corner of her mouth. She raises an eyebrow, her eyes flickering from Yeojin’s face to the oversized shirt she’s wearing. “Well, well, well,” Hyeju drawls, her tone dripping with mockery. “Look who decided to come home.”

Yeojin freezes, her cheeks flushing instantly as warmth creeps up her face. It’s as though she’s been caught mid-crime—which, in a way, she has. Swallowing her nerves, she forces a breezy smile, willing herself to sound casual. “Good morning, Hyeju!” she chirps, her voice unnaturally bright. “You’re up early.”

Hyeju tilts her head, unimpressed. “You mean unlike someone who’s been out all night?” She counters smoothly. Her gaze flicks pointedly to the shirt Yeojin’s clutching at the hem of, and her smirk widens. “So… you wanna explain why you didn’t come back last night? Or should I just take a wild guess?”

Yeojin’s mind scrambles, her blush deepening as she struggles to come up with something halfway believable. “Oh! Uh… I… stayed at the dorm studio!” she blurts out, her voice pitching higher than she intended. “Yeah, you know how I get when I’m in the zone. Lost track of time and figured it was too late to come back.”

“Hmm,” Hyeju says, narrowing her eyes as she steps closer. “The studio, huh? That’s funny, because I don’t remember you taking anything with you to work on.” Her voice drips with mock innocence, but the amused sparkle in her eye gives her away.

Yeojin tugs nervously at the hem of your shirt, glancing down at it like it might provide some magical escape route. “Well, I wasn’t planning to stay all night,” she stammers, trying to salvage her excuse. “But… inspiration hit, you know? And then I, uh, borrowed this to… stay warm.”

“Stay warm,” Hyeju repeats, her lips twitching as though she’s fighting the urge to laugh. “You’re telling me that’s the shirt you grabbed to stay warm?” She gestures at the oversized fabric drowning Yeojin’s frame, clearly unconvinced. “Smells a little… off for studio work, don’t you think? Almost like syrup or… cologne.”

Caught, Yeojin groans softly, her hands flying up in surrender. “Okay, fine! I was out!” she confesses, her words rushing out as she glares half-heartedly at Hyeju. “Are you happy now?”

Hyeju finally lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “Relax, I’m not your manager,” she says with exaggerated patience. “But seriously, you might want to work on your excuses. ‘I was at the studio all night’ isn’t gonna fly if someone else asks.”

Yeojin sighs, her shoulders slumping as she nods sheepishly. “I know. I’ll be more careful.”

“Good,” Hyeju replies, stepping back to let Yeojin pass. “Just don’t make it a habit, alright? We wouldn’t want the others—or worse, the manager—getting suspicious.”

Yeojin mumbles a quick thanks before slipping into her room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Leaning against it, she lets out a long, breathy sigh, her heart still racing. Her cheeks tingle from the embarrassment of being caught, but there’s a thrill too—a tiny, giddy spark knowing she’d stolen away one last moment with you.

Glancing down at your shirt, she brushes her fingers over the fabric, her smile softening as a secret warmth blooms in her chest. Whatever it took to keep moments like this, she decided, would be worth it.

Later that day, the rehearsal studio buzzes with energy, each corner filled with chatter and laughter as the group warms up. Excitement simmers just below the surface, each member brimming with a mix of focus and joy, until the manager enters, his presence commanding the room’s attention. He claps his hands, breaking into a grin that instantly shifts the room’s energy.

“Ladies, I’ve got news,” he announces, his voice ringing out. “We’ve been invited to perform on opening night for the Kiwoom Heroes… in just four days!” He pauses, his enthusiasm lighting up the room as he continues, “It’s a big opportunity. Let’s make sure we’re in top form!”

The announcement sparks a ripple of excitement among the girls, a mix of gasps and whispered cheers filling the studio as everyone glances at each other in excitement. But for Yeojin, the reaction is different—her heart skips a beat as a surge of nerves and excitement washes over her. Performing on such a big night would be thrilling on its own, but knowing it’s your game, the same field where you’ll be standing, makes it feel that much more special. She tries to keep her expression calm, but inside, her thoughts swirl with anticipation at the chance to perform, knowing you’ll be there to watch.

Beside her, Gowon notices her excitement and nudges her with a sly smile. “Why do you look like you just won the lottery?” she whispers, her eyes dancing with curiosity.

Yeojin forces a casual shrug, desperately trying to keep her tone breezy. “I just… really like baseball,” she replies, hoping she sounds more relaxed than she feels. But her voice betrays a hint of giddiness that she can’t quite mask.

Hyeju stifles a laugh, her gaze twinkling with amusement. “Uh-huh. You like baseball, sure,” she echoes, filling the words with teasing sarcasm.

A blush creeps back into Yeojin’s cheeks as she fiddles with her hair, smiling despite herself at her friends’ knowing looks. Their playful laughter only adds to the thrill of the moment, grounding her in the comfort of their shared camaraderie.

As the rehearsal begins, Yeojin slips into a quiet daydream, her mind drifting toward the image of the stadium on opening night. She pictures the floodlights, the crowd buzzing with excitement, the electric energy pulsing through the field. She imagines catching sight of you in the stands, your familiar smile lighting up as you recognize her among the dancers. Each move she rehearses feels charged with a secret purpose, a quiet hope that you’ll see her there, knowing that her performance is, in some small way, meant for you.

-----

Back at your place, the scent of takeout fills the air as you and Yeojin unpack the bags at the kitchen counter. The crinkle of paper bags and the soft clink of utensils blend with the quiet hum of the room, creating a cozy atmosphere. Yeojin, perched on one of the stools, peers into one of the containers with curiosity, a faint smile playing on her lips.

“You didn’t forget my favorite, right?” she asks, her tone playful as she sets her chopsticks in place.

“I wouldn’t dare,” you reply with a grin, handing her a container. “See? I’ve got you covered.”

Her face lights up as she pops it open, the familiar aroma making her sigh happily. “You’re the best,” she says, taking a bite and humming in satisfaction. “Mm, this is perfect.”

You settle into the stool next to her, digging into your own food. The easy rhythm of eating together fills the space, the kind of quiet intimacy that makes even simple moments like this feel special.

After a few bites, Yeojin glances over at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So,” she begins, her voice playful, “I heard you got the whole story about my water bottle fiasco.”

You smirk, glancing sideways at her. “Oh, I did. Something about turning it into a dramatic fall? Ten out of ten for creativity, by the way.”

She groans, hiding her face in her hands. “Ugh, it was so embarrassing. The girls have been teasing me non-stop.”

You laugh, nudging her lightly with your elbow. “Come on, you’re graceful enough to pull it off.”

“Oh, absolutely,” she replies, lowering her hands and giving you an exaggerated shrug. “I was the picture of elegance. Definitely not face-planting in front of everyone.”

“Right, right,” you tease, taking another bite. “Maybe you should add it to your choreography. Could be the next big thing.”

She tosses a crumpled napkin at you, her laughter spilling out despite herself. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here you are,” you retort, grinning as you dodge the napkin.

The playful banter continues as you finish your food, Yeojin leaning closer with each laugh, her joy infectious. Once the containers are cleared and the counter is wiped down, she hops off her stool and stretches, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips.

After dinner, the two of you settle onto the couch, a cozy silence enveloping the room. Yeojin tucks her legs under her, leaning lightly against your side as she holds the tub of ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other. The faint glow of the lamp casts a warm light over the room, reflecting softly off her flushed cheeks.

You nudge her playfully with your elbow, your own spoon in hand. “You’re hogging it,” you tease, nodding toward the ice cream.

“Excuse me?” she says, feigning offense as she takes an exaggerated bite. “I’m pretty sure I earned this for being adorable during dinner.”

You laugh, leaning closer to swipe a small spoonful from the tub before she can protest. “Adorable, huh? I guess I’ll allow it.”

Her giggle is soft as she settles back into your side, the easy rhythm of sharing the ice cream between you making the moment feel effortlessly intimate. She hums contentedly, her head resting lightly on your shoulder as she savors another bite.

After a moment, she shifts slightly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “So,” she begins, her tone playful, “we’re performing at the opening of your game next week.”

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, and you glance down at her. “Wait, seriously? That’s amazing!” A genuine grin spreads across your face. “I’ll finally get to see you perform live?”

“Yep,” she says, nodding eagerly. “Right there on the field before the game starts. No pressure for you or anything.”

“None at all,” you reply with a chuckle. “Just a stadium full of people, bright lights, and a surprise performance from my girlfriend. Totally low-key.”

She rolls her eyes, lightly swatting your arm. “Anyway,” she says, her voice dropping into a mischievous tone, “I was thinking… maybe I could wear one of your jerseys during the performance.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “One of my jerseys? Don’t you guys usually have custom outfits for this kind of thing?”

She shrugs, taking another bite of ice cream before replying. “Custom outfits are boring. Your jersey would look way cooler.”

You laugh, watching as she fidgets with the hem of her shirt, her wide eyes glancing up at you in mock pleading. “Come on,” she says, drawing the word out. “Isn’t it a rule for girlfriends to wear their boyfriends’ jerseys? I’m pretty sure it’s, like, a law or something.”

“Oh, it’s a law now?” you tease, grinning as you take another bite. “What chapter is that in your imaginary handbook?”

“Chapter one,” she says with mock seriousness, nodding sagely. “Rule one. ‘Thou shalt support thy boyfriend by wearing his jersey.’ It’s common knowledge.”

You shake your head, amused. “And what chapter says, ‘Thou shalt not get thy boyfriend in trouble with the entire stadium’?”

She groans dramatically, flopping back against the couch as she tosses the spoon into the empty tub. “Come on! Please? It would look so good! And if anyone asks, I’ll just say you’re my favorite player.”

You can’t help but laugh, her enthusiasm impossible to resist. “Fine, fine,” you say, setting the empty tub aside and standing. “But if this backfires, it’s all on you.”

She perks up immediately, her smile wide and victorious as you disappear into your room. When you return, you hold out an older jersey, the fabric soft and a little worn. “Here,” you say, handing it to her. “It’s from my rookie year. It’s not fancy, but it’s got some history.”

Her eyes light up as she takes it, her fingers brushing over the fabric. “Rookie year?” she murmurs, slipping it on. The oversized jersey swallows her petite frame, the sleeves hanging far past her hands and the hem brushing her thighs. She stands and gives you a playful twirl. “How do I look?”

“Like someone who’s about to start rumors,” you tease, stepping closer to adjust the hem slightly. “But also… absolutely adorable.”

Her grin widens, her hands fiddling with the oversized sleeves. “See? I told you it was a good idea.”

Then, as if struck by inspiration, she looks up at you with a glint in her eye. “Wait! You know what would make this even better?”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “What now?”

“Sign it,” she says, her voice bubbling with excitement as she tugs the fabric taut against her chest. Her hand rests lightly over her heart. “Right here. My friends will be so jealous.”

You shake your head in amused disbelief, grabbing a marker from the drawer. “Alright, but if you get in trouble, don’t come crying to me.” You step closer, steadying the fabric where her hand holds it over her heart.

She watches you intently, her smile softening as you lean in. The tip of the marker touches the fabric just above the number, and your name flows neatly, each letter deliberate. Your fingers brush against hers as you finish, the moment quiet but full of meaning.

When you pull back, she gazes down at the jersey, her fingers tracing the letters. A faint blush rises to her cheeks as her lips curve into a tender smile. “Now it’s perfect,” she whispers, looking up at you, her eyes glowing with happiness.

You smile, your hand resting lightly over the spot you just signed. “You’re impossible,” you murmur.

“And you love it,” she replies, her voice playful but filled with affection.

“Yeah,” you admit softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I really do.” You lean in to press a gentle kiss to her temple, the warmth of the moment settling around you both like a blanket.

------

The dressing room buzzes with excitement as Loossemble prepares for the event. Makeup brushes glide across faces, chatter fills the air, and their manager hands out jerseys. “These are for today’s event,” he announces, placing the neatly folded jerseys on the table.

As the girls eagerly grab theirs, Yeojin lingers by her bag, her hand already slipping inside. When the manager notices, he raises an eyebrow. “Yeojin, where’s your jersey?”

She pulls out the jersey you gave her, its fabric worn but comforting, and slips it on over her outfit. “I’ve got my own,” she says casually, smoothing it down.

The room quiets briefly as everyone notices the bold signature scrawled across the chest. Hyeju squints at it, her tone incredulous. “Wait... is that an actual jersey? Like the ones they wear on the field?”

Yeojin shrugs nonchalantly, adjusting the oversized sleeves. “It’s better than the custom ones,” she says simply, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Hyunjin’s jaw drops. “And it’s signed! Where the heck did you even get that?”

Yeojin gives a knowing smile, her voice calm but playful. “I know someone.”

The room erupts into laughter and teasing. Gowon shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re seriously wearing that? People are going to notice, you know.”

Yeojin smirks, smoothing the fabric with a deliberate motion. “Good. Let them.”

The manager sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just don’t make my life harder, alright?” he mutters, waving them toward the door.

At the stadium, the energy is electric. Fans in team colors flood the concourse, their excited chatter blending with the hum of announcements and the faint thrum of music. The smell of popcorn, grilled food, and sweet treats wafts through the air, adding to the festive atmosphere.

As Loossemble weaves through the bustling crowd, Yeojin suddenly stops in her tracks. Her gaze is drawn to a massive display near the merch shop, and for a moment, she forgets everything else. Your face dominates the wall, frozen mid-pitch, your arm extended in a perfect arc. The intensity and focus in your expression make the image feel almost alive, radiating the determination that’s become synonymous with you.

Around the display, racks of merchandise stretch in every direction—jerseys, caps, posters, and even bobbleheads bearing your name and number. Fans gather eagerly, their voices rising in an excited hum as they sort through the shelves. Yeojin catches fragments of their chatter: your incredible game-winning plays, your record-breaking stats, the way you’ve become the cornerstone of the team’s success. Each word feels like a glowing tribute to you, a celebration of everything you’ve achieved.

Her chest tightens, a surge of pride swelling within her as her fingers brush over the jersey she wears. The fabric is soft and worn, a personal gift that feels more precious now than ever. Her gaze drops briefly to the bold signature resting over her heart, and the simple gesture of your autograph feels profoundly intimate—a reminder of the part of you that belongs only to her.

She’s always known you were talented, but this moment reframes everything. Seeing the sheer scale of admiration for you, the fans clamoring for a piece of the legend you’ve become, is overwhelming. It takes her breath away. The magnitude of what you’ve accomplished hits her fully—how much you’ve given, how hard you’ve worked, and how many people you inspire.

And yet, through all of it, you’ve never stopped making her feel like she’s the center of your world. Whether it’s through the quiet warmth of your smile, a shared joke that only you two understand, or the way your hand naturally finds hers in a crowd, she knows she’s your constant.

Her fingers linger on the jersey’s fabric as she takes it all in. The massive display with your image mid-pitch, larger than life, radiates the determination and intensity that define you. Her heart swells with something deeper than pride—an awe at the balance you manage. With so much of the world demanding a piece of you, you’ve never let her feel less than cherished.

“Wow,” she whispers to herself, her voice barely audible over the chatter around her. Her lips curve into a soft smile as she glances back at the display. There’s no envy in her chest, no insecurity—only gratitude. Gratitude for being the person who gets to witness the side of you that no one else does. She’s the one who sees you at your most vulnerable, your most relaxed, and your most real, and in this moment, that feels like the greatest gift of all.

Now, near the front of the field, they wait for their cue, the girls chatting excitedly about the size of the stadium and the energy of the fans. Yeojin adjusts the hem of your jersey, trying to keep calm despite her racing heart.

But her focus wavers when she catches sight of you warming up nearby with your team. You’re effortlessly precise as you go through your routine, each movement fluid and confident. She can’t help the small smile that tugs at her lips as she watches you work—it’s captivating, even from a distance.

Her smile falters, though, when she notices a group of cheerleaders standing just a little too close for comfort. One of them giggles loudly, her gaze fixed on you as she leans in to whisper to her friend. Another brushes her hair back dramatically, giving you a wave that’s anything but subtle. Yeojin’s chest tightens, the pang of jealousy catching her off guard. She knows she has no reason to feel this way, but seeing the way they look at you—the admiration tinged with something more—makes her jaw tighten.

She shifts her weight, crossing her arms as she tries to push the feeling aside. He’s yours, she reminds herself, the memory of your signature on her jersey grounding her. The thought brings a small, determined smile back to her face. Let them look. I’m the one who gets to go home with him.

“Yeojin, what’s got you so serious all of a sudden?” Hyeju teases, nudging her shoulder with a smirk.

Startled, Yeojin shakes her head quickly, forcing a bright smile. “Huh? Just, uh… getting into the zone,” she replies, though her voice carries a hint of flustered nervousness.

Hyeju raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press further, her attention shifting as their manager calls them toward the field.

The stadium’s energy pulses underfoot as the intro notes of their song begins. Thousands of fans pack the stands, their cheers rising in a wave that reverberates through the air. Yeojin takes a deep breath, letting the rhythm of the music settle her nerves. As she steps onto the field with her group mates, the floodlights wash over them, illuminating the entire stadium.

Her eyes instinctively search for you, when she spots you near the dugout, her heart swells. Even from a distance, the pride in your smile is unmistakable, and the way you’re watching her fills her with warmth. It’s a sight that lights something fierce in her chest, a reminder of why she’s here—not just to perform, but to share this moment with you.

Each beat of the choreography feels stronger, every step infused with purpose. The girl’s move in perfect synchronization, their sharp poses and fluid transitions blending seamlessly with the music. Yeojin pours herself into the performance, her smile radiant as she twirls across the field. She can feel the joy of the moment in her bones, every movement carrying a silent message: I’m here, and this is for you.

In the dugout, your teammates notice the way you’re glued to watching her performance. One of them nudges you with a laugh. “Look at you, totally lovestruck,” he teases, jerking his thumb toward the jumbotron. “Come on, Romeo, close your mouth before a fly gets in.”

A flush rises to your cheeks as they rib you mercilessly, but you don’t look away. You can’t. Yeojin’s every move captivates you, as if you’re seeing her dance for the first time. Despite the teasing, all you feel is pride—she’s radiant, every bit the star you know her to be.

Meanwhile, Yeojin catches sight of you on the jumbotron, your flustered expression displayed for all to see. She bites back a laugh, her heart soaring at the exact reaction she’d hoped for. It’s a private moment made public, and the thrill of it fills her with pride. She flicks her gaze toward the screen whenever she can, smiling wider each time she sees you still watching her, your admiration written all over your face.

As the performance builds to its final chorus, Yeojin locks eyes with you for a brief moment. She winks, the gesture small but unmistakable, before finishing the dance with her group, arms raised as the last note rings out.

The stadium erupts into applause, the cheers washing over her like a wave. As Loossemble catches their breath, Yeojin’s heart swells. She can still feel the way her gaze connected with yours, the bond between you two threading itself into every step she took, every smile she shared with the crowd.

When the performance ends, Loossemble exits the field, their faces glowing with post-performance adrenaline. The group gathers near their seats, collapsing into laughter and excited chatter as they relive their favorite moments. Yeojin adjusts the hem of your jersey again, the warmth of your signature over her heart grounding her as the thrill of performing in front of you still buzzes in her chest.

But her friends don’t let her stay quiet for long.

“Yeojin,” Gowon begins, leaning in with a sly grin, her eyes glinting with curiosity, “did you see it?”

“See what?” Yeojin asks innocently, though the flutter in her chest betrays her calm tone.

“That pitcher,” Gowon replies, gesturing towards your area. “You know, the one whose face was glued to you.”

Yeojin freezes, trying to play it cool. “Oh, really?” she replies, her voice just a little too breezy. “I didn’t notice.”

Hyeju snorts, crossing her arms with a smirk. “You didn’t notice? He looked like he’d forgotten how to breathe. Seriously, Yeojin, the guy clearly has a favorite.”

“He was so obvious!” ViVi chimes in, leaning forward. “And did you see his teammates? They were dying. I swear, if you’d winked at him, he might’ve fainted.”

Yeojin laughs nervously, brushing her hair behind her ear. “He was probably just… impressed with our choreography,” she says, avoiding their knowing looks.

“Oh, sure,” Hyeju replies, rolling her eyes. “Because choreography is what had him staring like that. Not your sparkling personality or, I don’t know, the fact that you’re gorgeous or anything.”

ViVi nudges her, a playful grin spreading across her face. “You should totally go for him, Yeojin. He’s cute—and clearly into you.”

“Very into you,” Gowon agrees, her voice teasing but sincere. “I mean, the man couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d held up a sign that said, ‘Marry me.’”

Yeojin’s cheeks burn, and she quickly busies herself with adjusting her water bottle. “You’re all being ridiculous,” she mutters, though she can’t hide the tiny smile tugging at her lips.

“Ridiculous?” ViVi counters. “It’s the perfect opportunity! A cute baseball player, clearly smitten, and you, Miss Limited Edition Signed Jersey over here? It’s fate.”

Yeojin groans, hiding her face behind her hands as the girls burst into laughter around her. “You guys are the worst,” she mumbles, though her voice carries a warmth she can’t quite suppress.

“You love us,” Hyeju says with a grin, leaning back. “But seriously, if you don’t at least say hi to him before we leave, I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

Yeojin shoots her a wide-eyed look. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I absolutely would,” Hyeju replies, her smirk growing.

Before Yeojin can respond, the stadium erupts into cheers for the start of the game, giving her the perfect excuse to shift her focus. She sits back, her heart still racing as she sneaks a glance toward the field. When your eyes meet hers across the distance, your proud smile makes her breath catch, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

-----

The stadium is thick with tension—it’s the bottom of the ninth, and your team is clinging to a one-run lead. The electric energy of the crowd feels almost tangible, each cheer and murmur blending into a symphony of anticipation. Yeojin sits on the edge of her seat, her heart pounding as she watches you take the mound. She’s seen you pitch countless times before, but tonight feels different. The determined intensity in your expression, the way you square your shoulders before gripping the ball—it all sends a quiet thrill through her chest.

Her hands clasp tightly together as you take your stance, the ball snug in your glove. The batter steps into the box, and the crowd’s roar crescendos, the pitch count hovering on a razor’s edge. Yeojin’s gaze never leaves you, her chest tightening with each passing second. She watches as you grip the ball, your fingers settling into the seams with practiced precision. The tension is palpable as you wind up, your form a perfect blend of power and control.

Then, it happens.

The ball leaves your hand with a smooth snap, cutting through the air like a bullet. For a brief moment, everything feels suspended, the stadium holding its collective breath as the ball rockets toward the plate. The batter swings. The crack of impact reverberates like a gunshot, and Yeojin’s heart stutters.

A blur of motion. The ball hurtles straight back toward the mound—a split second, no time to think. Your glove snaps up instinctively, the sharp thwack of impact cutting through the noise. The ball deflects away from your head, careening off to the side, but the force staggers you. Your knees hit the dirt, and you slump forward slightly, visibly shaken.

The crowd collectively gasps, the electric energy of the game giving way to a wave of tense murmurs. Yeojin’s breath catches, her chest tightening as she watches you press a hand to your head, your face taut with discomfort. You wave off the trainer jogging toward you, trying to shake it off, but you don’t immediately rise. That’s all it takes for panic to flood her chest. Her fingers tightened around her jersey as her heart pounded as she willed you to stand.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, her voice trembling. Without thinking, she bolts from her seat, ignoring her friends’ surprised calls as she hurries down the stadium steps. Her pulse races with each step, her gaze locked on the bullpen entrance where she knows you’ll be taken.

Yeojin weaves through the throngs of concerned fans until she reaches the edge of the restricted area. A security guard steps forward, shaking his head firmly. “Sorry, miss. You can’t go past this point.”

“Please,” she says urgently, glancing past him toward the dugout. “I just need to see if he’s okay.”

The guard hesitates but doesn’t budge. Desperate, Yeojin moves to the side, craning her neck for any angle that might give her a glimpse of you. Her hands grip the railing tightly, her heart pounding as she finally spots you on the bench. From her vantage point, she can only see part of your profile, but it’s enough to confirm you’re upright, talking to the trainer.

She holds her breath, willing herself not to cry as the tension in her chest lingers. Then, as if sensing her, you glance over your shoulder. Your eyes meet hers, and though your movements are still slow and careful, the small smile you flash her is steady and reassuring. You lift your hand slightly in a subtle wave, a silent message: I’m okay.

Yeojin exhales shakily, her hands loosening their grip on the railing as relief floods her. For a moment, she lingers, her lips curving into a tentative smile in response. Then, with one last glance at you, she turns and heads back toward her seat.

By the time she climbs the steps back to her section, her friends are watching her with curious expressions. “What was that about?” Gowon asks, leaning closer.

Yeojin shrugs, brushing her hair behind her ear as she sits. “I just… wanted to check on him,” she says, keeping her tone casual despite the lingering adrenaline in her veins.

ViVi tilts her head, her lips twitching with a smile. “You’re really invested in this game, huh?”

“Well, he’s their best player,” Yeojin replies, adjusting the hem of your jersey. “Someone has to cheer for him.”

Her friends exchange amused glances but don’t push further, turning their attention back to the game. As the action resumes, Yeojin steals one more glance toward the bullpen. You’re still seated but looking steady now, chatting with the trainer. Relief washes over her as she sees you lean forward, your shoulders squared with resolve, ready to get back in the game.

The tension builds as the final moments unfold, every pitch and swing keeping the crowd on edge. Yeojin clutches at your jersey, her fingers brushing over the warmth of your signature as the last out is made, sealing the win for your team. The stadium erupts into cheers, the roar deafening as your teammates rush the field to celebrate. Her heart swells with pride, the earlier fear eclipsed entirely by admiration for your unwavering strength.

As the stadium begins to empty, Yeojin practically drags her friends down toward the field, her excitement bubbling over as she skips ahead. Her friends trail behind, exchanging confused but curious glances at her sudden burst of enthusiasm.

“Where are you going?” Gowon calls after her, struggling to keep up.

“Just come on!” Yeojin replies, glancing over her shoulder with a wide grin. Her pulse quickens as she spots you waiting in the dugout, scanning the thinning crowd until your gaze lands on her.

The moment your eyes meet, a bright smile spreads across your face, and without hesitation, Yeojin takes off across the field. Her friends stop in their tracks, staring as she runs straight to you, leaping into your arms with a joyful squeal. You catch her effortlessly, lifting her as if she weighs nothing, holding her close as she plants a quick, happy kiss on your cheek.

The group stands frozen, their eyes wide as they process what they’re seeing.

“Wait… did she just…” Gowon begins, her voice trailing off.

“Did she just run up and kiss him?” Hyeju whispers, glancing between you and Yeojin as if trying to confirm she’s not imagining things.

Their confusion grows as you set Yeojin gently back on the ground, your arm staying casually draped over her shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed, but she’s grinning ear to ear, clearly unfazed by the scene she’s caused.

With a soft chuckle, you greet her friends, your easy smile and warm demeanor making their stunned expressions all the more amusing. Finally, Gowon snaps out of it, blinking rapidly before giving Yeojin a teasing smirk.

“Okay, not to be dramatic,” she says, motioning toward you, “but… what the actual fuck?”

The rest of the group bursts into laughter, ViVi adding, “Seriously, Yeo-jin, care to explain how this happened?”

Yeojin fidgets slightly, her blush deepening as she looks between you and her friends. “What do you mean?” she asks, playing innocent. “He’s… just my boyfriend.”

“Just?” Gowon repeats, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? You’ve been holding out on us! You could’ve mentioned you were dating a literal star player!”

“Speaking of which,” ViVi cuts in, her eyes widening as she looks up at you, “how tall are you, exactly?”

“198,” you reply with a grin, clearly amused by their reactions.

They all turn to Yeojin, who crosses her arms with a mock huff. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m short. You’ve all said it before,” she says, though her proud smile betrays her.

“You’re not just short,” Hyeju teases, nudging her shoulder. “Next to him, you’re basically pocket-sized. It’s kind of adorable.”

Yeojin groans, rolling her eyes. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Hyunjin steps closer, her curiosity lighting up her expression. “So…” she begins, hesitating for a moment. “Would it be weird if we, uh, tested something?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Hmm?”

She motions toward your arms. “I’ve always wanted to try hanging off someone super strong. You look like you could handle it.”

Yeojin shoots her a look, but you laugh, glancing at your girlfriend for permission. She sighs, muttering, “Fine, but don’t break him.”

With a grin, you extend your arms, and Hyunjin and ViVi eagerly grab on, giggling as they dangle from you like children on a jungle gym. You lift them effortlessly, even spinning slightly for effect, earning cheers and laughter from the rest of the group.

“Whoa… He’s actually doing it,” Hyeju says, her tone full of admiration. “You’ve got some serious strength.”

Yeojin, however, watches with narrowed eyes, her smile fading slightly. Finally, she steps forward, hands on her hips. “Alright, that’s enough,” she says, her voice firm but playful. “Let him go.”

The girls reluctantly release your arms, laughing as they exchange amused glances. But before you can lower them fully, Yeojin leaps up, wrapping herself around you with a little huff. She locks her legs around your waist, grinning triumphantly as she turns to her friends. “This is my spot,” she declares, sticking out her tongue.

The group dissolves into laughter, though their teasing glances don’t go unnoticed. “Possessive much?” Gowon quips, shaking her head with a smirk.

You chuckle, leaning down to murmur softly in Yeojin’s ear, “Didn’t know you got jealous so easily.”

Yeojin pouts, looking up at you with a small smile. “Can’t help it,” she whispers back. “You’re mine.”

The group exchanges whispered comments, their curiosity and amusement clear. But Yeojin doesn’t care. As you hold her close, the warmth of your embrace and the quiet pride in her heart remind her that no amount of teasing could take away what you two share.

-----

As the door clicks shut behind you, Yeojin spins around with a playful glint in her eyes, arms folded in mock defiance. Her cheeks are still flushed from the night’s excitement, but there’s something else now—a spark of mischief that makes her gaze dance in the dim light.

“You know,” she begins, taking a slow step closer, her voice teasing, “you owe me for making me jealous tonight.”

Leaning back against the door, you raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh, do I?” you ask, your tone light but edged with challenge.

She nods, feigning seriousness, though the smile pulling at her lips betrays her amusement. “Letting those girls hang all over you like that… What was that about?” Her hands go to her hips as she tilts her head, her mock indignation only making her look more endearing.

You chuckle, leaning forward just enough to bring your face level with hers. “If I remember right, you gave me permission, and…” you murmur, your voice dropping slightly, “you were the one climbing me like a tree afterward. I think you made your point pretty clear.”

Yeojin bites her lip, the blush on her cheeks deepening, but she doesn’t back down. Instead, she loops her arms around your neck, her smile turning sly. “I’m not so sure,” she replies, her tone soft but teasing. “You might have to work a little harder to make it up to me.”

You slide your hands around her waist, pulling her closer until the space between you is nonexistent. “Alright,” you say, your voice a low murmur, “I’ll bite. How exactly am I supposed to make it up to you, hmm?”

Yeojin hums thoughtfully, as if considering her options, before gently nudging you toward the couch. Her hands stay light on your chest as she guides you, her steps deliberate yet playful. Once you’re seated, she settles onto your lap, her small frame fitting perfectly into your arms. The soft weight of her against you sends a warmth coursing through your chest as her hands slide up to rest lightly on your shoulders.

“For starters,” she whispers, leaning in close, her lips hovering just shy of yours, “you could promise I’m the only one who gets to cling to you like that.”

Her breath brushes your skin, teasing as her words hang in the air. You meet her gaze, a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Done,” you whisper back, your voice soft but sure. And then, without hesitation, you close the space, capturing her lips in a kiss that starts slow and sweet, her warmth melting into you. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the rest of the world disappear, leaving only the quiet intensity between you.

As her fingers trail lightly along your chest, Yeojin pulls back just enough to speak, her voice barely above a murmur. “And you can start by spoiling me a little more,” she teases, her playful tone returning as her fingers toy with the fabric of your shirt.

Your low chuckle vibrates against her, and you tilt your head slightly, your thumb grazing her cheek. “You don’t even have to ask, princess,” you reply, your words carrying a weight that lingers between you.

The air shifts, the laughter between you fading into something quieter, warmer. Yeojin’s breath hitches as she looks up at you, her eyes searching yours for a moment before her hands find their way to your shirt. Slowly, her fingertips trace along your chest before she lifts the fabric, pulling it up and over your shoulders with deliberate grace, her movements unhurried as if savoring the moment.

Your hand slides to her waist, steadying her as you guide her closer, your fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt. Her breath catches as your touch skims bare skin, her body reacting instinctively to your warmth. You take your time, letting the fabric rise slowly, your gaze locked on hers, the air between you thick with anticipation. When her shirt finally falls to the floor, she exhales softly, her blush deepening as she feels your hands settle on her sides, grounding her.

Yeojin’s hands find their way to your belt, her touch sure but deliberate as her eyes flick up to yours, silently asking permission. You nod, your smirk softening into something more intimate, and she works the buckle loose before tugging the fabric free. You follow her lead, your fingers trailing down to the waistband of her jeans. Her breathing quickens as you unfasten the button, your movements steady as you guide them down, leaving them to pool at her feet.

When you straighten, your hands find the curve of her hips, your touch firm but reverent as her own hands lift to your waist, slipping beneath the edge of your pants to push them down with a gentle insistence. As the last of the fabric falls away, the space between you seems to hum, the night’s earlier excitement replaced by a quiet, electric intensity.

The room feels smaller now, the air charged as you take each other in—skin to skin, your gazes holding steady. Yeojin leans into you, her arms wrapping around your shoulders as her lips find yours, the kiss deep and unhurried, a promise that lingers between you. The warmth of her body against yours ignites something that words can’t capture, leaving the rest of the night open, unwritten, and entirely yours.

Without a word, you lean down, your arms securing her tightly as you lift her effortlessly, her body fitting snugly against your chest. Yeojin gasps softly, her legs instinctively wrapping around your waist, her arms clinging to your shoulders as she feels the full strength of your hold. The contrast between your broad, solid frame and her smaller stature sends a shiver of exhilaration through her—she feels weightless in your grasp, as if gravity itself bends to your will.

Her heart races as your hands shift, gripping her thighs firmly. In one smooth, fluid motion, you flip and lower her upside down, her thighs draping over your powerful shoulders. Her body hangs securely, her soft skin brushing against your neck while your steady grip keeps her firmly in place. The sheer size of you against her height makes her feel both delicate and cherished, a thrill sparking through her as she adjusts to the new position.

Suspended in your grasp, Yeojin’s breath catches as her lips find the warmth of your skin. The firmness of your muscles under her mouth sends a pulse of excitement through her, and she can’t help but press soft kisses there, each touch drawing a sharp, appreciative inhale from you. Her hands steady themselves against your hips, her small fingers gripping the solid expanse of your body for balance.

As you lean forward, your mouth finds her with an unrestrained hunger that takes her breath away. The first touch of your tongue sends a bolt of pleasure straight through her, and she trembles, her body instinctively pressing closer to you. Each movement of your tongue feels electric, worshiping her with a precision that makes her toes curl.

The smoothness of your skin against her inner thighs complements the warmth and wetness of your mouth, the sensations blending into an intoxicating mix that leaves her gasping. Her body trembles, her thighs pressing against your neck as her hips buck involuntarily in response to your ministrations. You grip her thighs tighter, spreading her open as you delve deeper, your tongue moving with insatiable fervor. Each stroke pulls a new, breathy cry from her lips, her whimpers of pleasure filling the room, echoing with the raw intimacy shared between you.

At the same time, Yeojin’s lips part around your length, taking you eagerly into her mouth. The sheer weight of you, the fullness stretching her jaw, makes her thighs quiver as she works to please you. Her tongue moves eagerly, tracing every ridge and vein as her lips slide along your shaft. The salty taste of precum teases her, a reminder of the effect she has on you, fueling her determination to take you deeper.

But as your tongue finds that sensitive spot within her, her resolve falters. A sharp moan escapes her lips, vibrating around you as her hips grind instinctively against your face. She fights to refocus, her cheeks hollowing as she takes you in again, but the sensations you’re drawing from her are relentless. Your tongue presses into her with precision, and her breath catches as you graze her most sensitive spot. Her movements falter, her concentration breaking as she’s overwhelmed by pleasure.

When your length brushes the back of her throat, her body jolts, her gasp muffled against you. The stretch leaves her momentarily breathless, her fingers tightening on your hips as she tries to keep pace. “Oh—” she tries to gasp, but the sounds dissolve into helpless moans, each vibration against you spurring you on. Her attempts to regain control falter again as your tongue moves deeper, coaxing another cry from her lips.

The slick, rhythmic sounds of your connection fill the room, blending with her muffled moans and your low, guttural groans. Her arousal drips onto your skin, her body trembling uncontrollably as her pleasure builds. “God, you’re amazing,” you murmur against her, your voice thick with sincerity. Your hands flex against her thighs, your grip firm and possessive as you hold her steady, your tongue stroking deeper and more deliberately.

Yeojin’s cries grow desperate as her body tightens around you, her legs trembling against your shoulders. The tension in her core builds steadily, each flick of your tongue pushing her closer to the edge. Her breath catches in sharp gasps, her body quaking with anticipation. She clutches at your hips for stability, but her movements grow erratic as she loses herself in the sensations.

When your fingers dig into her soft thighs, anchoring her even closer, the tension snaps. “Ahh—oh my god!” she screams, her voice trembling as her climax hits her with breathtaking force. Her entire body stiffens, her walls spasming uncontrollably as waves of pleasure crash through her. You hold her tightly, your grip unyielding as you press her against you, your tongue working her through every pulse of her release.

Her hips buck against your face, her cries echoing in the room as her orgasm overtakes her completely. She clings to your hips for dear life, her hands shaking as her body surrenders to the intensity. “I can’t… oh my god, I can’t,” she whimpers, the words tumbling out as the aftershocks ripple through her. Each tremor leaves her breathless, her thighs quivering as you continue your unrelenting ministrations.

Finally, her body goes limp in your grasp, her head falling forward as she struggles to catch her breath. You shift slightly, adjusting your hold to keep her steady, your touch gentle but still possessive. Her soft whimpers fill the quiet, her entire being humming with the aftermath of her release.

When she finally lifts her head, her cheeks are flushed, her mascara streaked slightly, but her smile is radiant. “You’re unbelievable,” she whispers, her voice trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction.

You chuckle softly, pressing a lingering kiss to her thigh. “That’s just the beginning,” you murmur, the promise in your tone making her shiver anew.

Still trembling from the earlier intensity, Yeojin lets out a soft gasp as you flip her to her feet, guiding her back to you with firm hands. Her body pressed flush against your chest, her soft skin warm and inviting. Without hesitation, you grip her firmly, lifting her off the ground in one smooth motion. Her legs dangle freely, toes brushing against your thighs as you hold her up by her breasts, your large hands cradling her delicate frame.

The weightlessness leaves her breathless, a shiver coursing through her as she realizes how completely you’re holding her. Your fingers curl around her sensitive nipples, squeezing gently, your thumbs brushing over her hardened peaks. Each touch draws a soft whimper from her lips, her body responding to every deliberate motion. “You’re so small,” you murmur, your voice low and rough against her ear. “I love how you fit perfectly in my hands.”

Her breath hitches at your words, and a thrill races through her at the sheer size and strength you exude. She feels utterly enveloped by you, each motion a reminder of how easily you carry her. “I love it too,” she whispers, her voice trembling with need. “Please… I need you.”

You don’t make her wait. Adjusting your grip to pull her closer, you angle her hips, lining yourself up with her slick heat. The first thrust is deliberate and deep, burying yourself fully inside her in one swift motion. Her head falls back, a sharp cry escaping her lips. “Oh my god,” she gasps, her voice breaking as her body stretches to accommodate you. The overwhelming sensation of being filled leaves her trembling in your grasp.

“Fuck, Yeojin,” you groan, your fingers flexing against her breasts as you begin to move. “You’re so tight… so fucking perfect.”

Her legs sway with each powerful thrust, the motion making her feel completely at your mercy. Her walls pulse around you, gripping you tightly as she whimpers, “Yes… so good. So full.” Her voice is breathless, her hands reaching up to clutch at your arms, her nails lightly raking over your skin as she struggles to steady herself.

Your hands knead her breasts as you pick up the pace, your thumbs circling and pinching her sensitive peaks. The added stimulation sends shivers down her spine, her body arching instinctively in your hold. “You feel that, princess?” you murmur against her ear, your voice thick with desire. “Feel how deep I am inside you?”

“Yes,” she cries, her back arching as the sensations flood her body. “I love it… love how you fill me.”

Her hands drop to her stomach, her fingers pressing lightly against her skin as if trying to ground herself. She gasps when she feels you pushing in and out of her, the motion resonating deep within. “I can feel you,” she whispers, her voice a mixture of awe and pleasure. “So deep…”

The sensation intensifies as your grip tightens, your fingers digging into the soft flesh of her breasts. Each movement becomes more deliberate, your thrusts deepening as you shift her slightly, driving her backward with every motion to meet your hips. The angle changes, and a sharp gasp rips from her throat as you hit the spot that sends jolts of electric pleasure through her. Her legs quiver in the air, her head tilting back as her body struggles to process the overwhelming sensation, her cries growing louder with every deliberate thrust.

“That’s it,” you growl, your voice low and rough, your rhythm relentless as her walls clench around you. “Right there. You feel me, don’t you? Taking you exactly how you need.”

“Yes, yes!” she cries, her voice trembling with desperation. Her body melts into your hold, entirely weightless as she surrenders to the intensity. “Don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”

Her moans grow erratic, the wet, rhythmic sounds of your connection filling the room, mingling with your labored breaths. Every powerful thrust pushes her closer to the edge, the sheer force of your movements making her tremble uncontrollably. Your fingers tug and pinch at her nipples, her cries of pleasure growing louder with each twist of your touch.

“You’re mine,” you growl, your words reverberating against her skin as you press your lips to her neck. “Every inch of you. You’re mine.”

Her legs quiver as her head falls forward, her breathing ragged. “Yes,” she moans, her voice trembling. “I’m yours. All yours.”

Your pace quickens, each thrust deep and precise, driving her to a fever pitch as her body arches and tightens around you. The sharp cries escaping her lips tell you everything you need to know—she’s right on the edge, completely lost in the ecstasy of your touch.

The relentless depth of your thrusts drives her higher and higher as her cries grow desperate and her body tightens around you. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, her voice barely more than a whimper. “Please… I’m so close.”

You shift slightly, angling her hips to plunge even deeper, your thrusts growing harder and faster, each motion sending sparks of pleasure coursing through her. Her trembling becomes uncontrollable, her breaths ragged as the tension builds to an unbearable height. Her fingers clutch desperately at your forearms, her nails biting into your skin as if anchoring herself to reality. Her cries escalate, breaking into frantic gasps as her body teeters precariously on the edge.

“Fuck—there!” she screams, her voice raw and shattering as her climax slams into her with devastating force. Her entire body convulses, her head falling forward onto your shoulder as her muscles give way, leaving her completely limp in your hands. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes through her, her walls clenching around you with an intensity that borders on overwhelming. Each pulsation grips you tighter, pulling you impossibly deeper into her heat, her body trembling violently as she lets out a series of breathless, broken cries.

But you don’t let up. Your grip on her tightens, your hands steadying her trembling frame as you continue to thrust, your movements deliberate and unrelenting. Each motion draws out her climax, prolonging the intoxicating waves of pleasure coursing through her. Her head tilts back, her mouth falling open as her voice becomes high-pitched and fractured, her overstimulated body writhing uncontrollably against you.

“Too much—oh my god!” she whimpers, her words tumbling out in gasping fragments. Yet, despite her plea, her hips betray her, instinctively rocking to meet yours, the overwhelming sensation mingling with an insatiable, desperate need. Her body quivers in your hold, the aftershocks colliding with your unyielding rhythm, and her cries blend into the sound of skin meeting skin, her sensitivity turning into a heady, all-consuming bliss.

And then it happens, before the first climax fully fades, another builds, the relentless friction and fullness pushing her straight into a second wave. Her entire body stiffens in your grasp, her head snapping back against your shoulder as the overwhelming sensation tears through her. “I’m cumming again!” she cries, her voice a mix of shock and unrestrained ecstasy. Her walls flutter violently around you, each contraction milking every inch of you as she tumbles headlong into a second, earth-shattering release.

Her cries of pleasure become incoherent, her body melting further into your hands as her climax washes over her in crashing waves. The slick heat of her arousal coats you, and the rhythmic clenching around your length pulls you closer to your own edge. “Fuck, Yeojin,” you groan, your thrusts growing erratic as the heat in your core builds to an unbearable peak.

With a guttural moan, you pull her as close as possible, burying yourself fully inside her as your release hits like an unstoppable wave. Each pulse surges deep within her, a searing heat spreading through her core as you fill her completely. Her body responds instantly, trembling violently as her walls spasm around you, clutching you tighter with every throb of your release. The fullness overwhelms her, sending her into a frenzy of sensation, her breaths hitching into sharp, uneven gasps.

“Oh my god,” she cries, her voice trembling as her body convulses. The sensation of being filled so completely pushes her to another peak, her climax gripping her with renewed intensity. Her walls flutter uncontrollably, their rhythmic contractions pulling you deeper, as if her body is desperate to claim every drop. The pulsing heat between you draws out her pleasure in endless waves, her cries raw and unrestrained.

Your hands find her breasts, kneading them gently, your fingers brushing against her taut, sensitive peaks. The sensation only amplifies her ecstasy, her head lolling weakly against your shoulder as she rides out the unrelenting pleasure. Her body feels weightless in your hold, trembling as the aftershocks ripple through her.

As your release continues to surge, your legs falter under the sheer intensity of the moment. “Fuck…” you groan, your voice rough and shaky as your knees buckle. Losing your balance, you stumble forward, collapsing onto the bed with her still pressed tightly against you. The added weight presses you deeper into her, burying you to the hilt in a way that neither of you is prepared for.

The effect is immediate. The sudden depth makes her cry out, a sharp, high-pitched squeal tearing from her lips as her overstimulated body is driven into another powerful climax. Her thighs quake uncontrollably, her back arching against you as the intensity consumes her entirely. “Ahh—FUCK!” she screams, her voice shaking as her body bucks beneath you, her release crashing over her like a tidal wave.

Her walls clamp down hard, the rhythmic pulsations drawing every last ounce of your release into her. Each spasm feels impossibly tight, pulling at you with relentless force, her cries dissolving into incoherent moans as the pleasure overtakes her completely. Her hands claw at the sheets, her knuckles white as her body convulses, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

The deep, intimate pressure of your release combined with the weight of your body pinning her down prolongs her climax, leaving her utterly lost in the moment. Each pump reignites her sensitivity, her oversaturated nerves sending jolts of pleasure through her as if she’s trapped in a cycle of ecstasy. “I can’t—oh my god, I can’t!” she gasps, her voice broken as her body jerks uncontrollably in your grasp.

Her second climax stretches on, each wave crashing harder than the last, leaving her trembling violently. The combination of your warmth spilling into her, the unrelenting depth, and the closeness of your bodies becomes an intoxicating overload. Her cries turn into soft, breathless whimpers, her body spent yet still clinging to the aftershocks, as though it doesn’t want the moment to end.

You hold her tightly, your hands cupping her breasts as you knead them gently, grounding her in your embrace. “You’re amazing,” you murmur, your voice thick with awe as you press soft kisses to her shoulder. Your body stills, but the weight of you keeps her anchored, every lingering contraction pulling you closer as you both ride out the final moments of bliss.

When the intensity finally begins to ebb, her body goes completely limp beneath you, her breathing shallow and uneven as she shivers against the mattress. Her warmth presses against you, and you instinctively shift to avoid putting too much weight on her, but you don’t pull away. Your chest remains flush against her back, your arms wrapped protectively around her waist as the lingering tremors of her release ripple through her.

“Are you okay?” you murmur softly, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear, the tenderness in your tone grounding her.

She nods weakly, her voice barely audible as she lets out a soft, breathless sigh. “That was… oh my god, that was… the best,” she murmurs, her words trailing off as the aftershocks continue to course through her. Her cheeks are deeply flushed, her skin glistening with a sheen of effort and ecstasy. When she tilts her head slightly to glance up at you, her eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed with a dreamy, dazed expression. She looks utterly spent yet so full of contentment that it makes your chest ache with affection.

“Not going to argue with that,” you reply, a soft chuckle escaping as you brush a damp strand of hair from her face. “That was… something else.”

As you begin to shift, intending to pull away, her hand suddenly presses against yours, her fingers curling weakly around your arm. “Wait,” she whispers, her voice trembling but firm. “Just… stay. Just for a little while.”

You pause, the words stirring something deep within you. Nodding silently, you settle back against her, letting your weight ground her as you both bask in the afterglow. The intimacy of the moment feels infinite, your breathing slowly syncing as the world outside seems to dissolve.

Minutes pass, the quiet punctuated only by the faint hum of your synchronized breaths and her occasional whimpers as the lingering aftershocks ripple through her body. She remains still beneath you, her trembling legs unable to support her fully, as if the weight of the moment has left her boneless.

When you finally begin to pull out, it’s with deliberate care, your movements slow and tender, your hand resting on her lower back to steady her. The moment you leave her, she gasps softly, her body instinctively clenching at the sudden emptiness. A high-pitched whimper escapes her lips, her voice trembling with raw emotion as her body quivers in response.

“No…” she whines softly, her forehead pressing against the mattress as her fingers weakly clutch the sheets for stability. The loss seems almost unbearable, a hollow ache that fills the void you’ve left behind. “I’m so full but… I feel so empty,” she murmurs, her words laced with both longing and exhaustion.

Your eyes lower, taking in the sight of your release threatening to spill from her, glistening as it lingers at her entrance. The sight stirs something protective and possessive in you, a reminder of the connection you’ve just shared. Reaching out gently, you press a soothing kiss to the curve of her shoulder, your hand rubbing gentle circles along her back. “I’ve got you,” you whisper, your voice full of warmth as you pull her closer into your embrace. She melts into you again, her soft, spent body fitting perfectly against yours.

The world outside feels distant, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping you both in a cocoon of warmth and trust. Neither of you speaks, the gentle rhythm of your synchronized breaths the only sound, as her body fully relaxes in your arms.

Eventually, Yeojin stirs slightly, her head lifting just enough to mumble, “We’re… such a mess.” Her voice is barely audible, her words trailing off as her eyes flutter shut again.

You laugh softly, your hands trailing down her back in soothing strokes. “You’re not wrong,” you admit, glancing down at the tousled strands of hair sticking to her damp skin and the faint sheen that glistens over you both. “How about we clean up?”

She groans softly, her arms tightening weakly around your neck. “I don’t think I can move,” she admits, her voice tinged with a mixture of humor and genuine fatigue. “You’ll have to do everything.”

“Deal,” you reply with a grin, scooping her up effortlessly. She lets out a soft gasp, but it’s quickly followed by a quiet, sleepy giggle as she leans her head against your shoulder, her arms draping limply around your neck.

The bathroom fills with soft steam as you adjust the shower, the warm spray cascading down and curling around you both. Yeojin shivers slightly in your arms as you guide her under the water, her body slumping gently against you. She tilts her head back, letting the spray soak her hair and trail down her delicate frame. A contented sigh escapes her lips as the water warms her skin, her eyelids fluttering closed.

Her small hands rest lightly on your chest, her grip loose and trusting. “You’re too good to me,” she murmurs, her voice soft and dreamy.

“You make it easy,” you reply, brushing your lips against her temple. The water streams around you both, and her body sags further against yours, her trust in your care palpable as you hold her steady.

“Let me take care of you,” you say gently, brushing a damp strand of hair from her flushed face. She nods weakly, her trust in you evident as she allows you to guide her closer to the stream. The water trails down her body, glistening over her soft curves as she lets out a quiet, contented sigh.

You reach for the shampoo, lathering it between your hands before carefully working it into her hair. Your fingers move in slow, soothing circles, massaging her scalp with deliberate care. She hums softly, her head tilting forward slightly, her balance wavering as she leans heavily into your chest.

“Relax,” you murmur, holding her steady with one hand on her waist. “I’ve got you.”

Her lips curve into a faint smile, her eyes closing as she lets herself melt into your touch. The soft hum of the water surrounds you both, a cocoon of warmth and quiet intimacy. As you rinse her hair, guiding the water to wash away the suds, her small hands rest limply against your arms, her fingers curling weakly as if to hold onto you.

When her hair is clean, you reach for the body wash, lathering it onto your hands. Gently, you trail your palms over her shoulders and down her arms, your touch light but thorough. “You’re so good to me,” she murmurs, her voice slurred with exhaustion and affection. Her head rests against your chest, her breaths shallow but steady.

You smile softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You deserve it,” you reply, your tone low and full of warmth.

As your hands move lower, gliding over her back and across her sides, you notice the slight quiver in her legs. “Can you stand, or should I hold you up?” you ask, your voice tinged with concern.

She shakes her head weakly, her hands clutching at your arms. “Just… hold me,” she whispers, her tone almost pleading.

Without hesitation, you slide your arm around her waist, pulling her closer to steady her. Your other hand continues its careful work, trailing down to her thighs. Her breath hitches as your fingers glide over the inside of her thighs, your touch gentle but deliberate. You shift slightly, intending to clean her thoroughly, but the moment your hand moves higher, she weakly stops you, her small fingers curling around your wrist.

“Don’t,” she whispers, her voice trembling but firm. “I… want to keep it. Please.”

Your chest tightens at her words, the intimacy of the moment stealing your breath. You lower your hand immediately, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice thick with affection. “Anything you want.”

She relaxes again in your hold, her trust and vulnerability filling the space between you with a quiet intensity. You adjust her slightly, resuming your gentle attention elsewhere, ensuring she feels cared for without pushing her boundaries.

As the water rinses her skin, you feel the last remnants of tension leave her body, replaced by a deep, bone-deep relaxation. Her head lolls to the side, her cheek resting against your chest as she exhales softly, her lips brushing against your skin.

“Almost done,” you whisper, your hand trailing down her legs one final time. The warmth of the water and the tenderness of the moment seem to lull her further, her eyes fluttering closed as she lets herself lean fully into your support.

When you’re finished, you turn off the shower and wrap her in a fluffy towel, lifting her effortlessly as her arms drape over your shoulders. “You’re spoiling me,” she murmurs sleepily, her voice muffled against your neck.

“Good,” you reply, pressing a kiss to the crown of her damp hair. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

Her cheeks flush deeper, but she doesn’t argue, simply burying her face against you as you carry her out of the bathroom. Once back in the bedroom, you set her down gently, sitting her on the edge of the bed as you begin to dry her hair with the towel.

Her head tilts forward slightly, her eyes half-closed as you fuss over her. “Okay, enough,” she protests weakly, though the softness in her voice and the tiny smile on her lips betray her affection for your care. “I can do it myself.”

“Not yet,” you reply with a grin, continuing to gently rub the towel over her damp hair. “You’re still half asleep, and I don’t trust you not to just fall over.”

She lets out a small laugh, her shoulders relaxing further as you work. Once her hair is mostly dry, you hand her the towel to finish the rest. “Keep going,” you tell her gently, brushing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll be right back.”

Stepping away, you pull the rumpled covers from the bed, stripping the sheets and replacing them with fresh ones. The soft fabric feels cool under your fingers as you smooth the corners, ensuring everything is perfect for her. The faint scent of lavender from the new sheets fills the air, adding to the calm, cozy atmosphere.

By the time you return, Yeojin is still perched on the edge of the bed, her towel loosely draped around her shoulders. She looks up at you with sleepy, affectionate eyes, her small frame practically folding into itself as she waits.

“All done,” you announce with a soft smile, lifting the fresh blankets and gesturing for her to crawl in. She doesn’t need any prompting, slipping under the covers with a contented sigh as you slide in beside her.

Immediately, she shifts closer, curling into your chest as you drape your arm over her waist. Her small body fits perfectly against yours, and you gently pull her closer, resting your chin lightly on the top of her head. Her fingers trace absentminded patterns on your forearm as the warmth of her frame melts into yours.

“This is nice,” she murmurs, her voice muffled against your chest.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. “You’re perfect like this.”

The quiet comfort of the moment stretches out as her breathing slows, her body relaxing fully against yours. You think she might have drifted off when she stirs slightly, her fingers tightening their grip on your arm.

“What’s up?” you ask, glancing down at her.

She hesitates for a moment, her cheeks visibly pink even in the dim light. “I… I want to hold you,” she whispers, her voice small but certain.

Your eyebrows lift in surprise, but your heart swells at the sincerity in her words. A smile tugs at your lips as you gently nudge her chin so she looks up at you. “You want to switch?” you ask playfully, your voice tinged with affection.

She nods shyly, her gaze darting away before meeting yours again. “I just… I want to,” she murmurs, her tone vulnerable but earnest. “Please?”

You chuckle softly and roll onto your back, your arm slipping under her shoulders to guide her over. “Alright, princess,” you reply warmly, settling her partially on top of you.

Yeojin wastes no time, shifting until her body molds into yours, her chest pressing against your side as her arms drape over you. One leg slides over your waist, her knee hooking securely against your hip as if anchoring herself in place.She presses into you, her cheek nestles against your shoulder as she sighs contentedly.

Her fingers rest lightly against your chest, occasionally twitching as if trying to hold onto you tighter. “This feels good,” she murmurs, her voice thick with drowsy affection. “I just wanted to… be close to you.”

You smile softly, your hand finding its way to her back, brushing gentle circles over her skin. “I’m not going anywhere,” you reply, your tone low and soothing.

She shifts slightly, her lips brushing against your shoulder in a sleepy kiss. The tender gesture makes your chest tighten with warmth, though her attempt is interrupted when she sputters suddenly, pulling back with a small groan. “Bitter soap!” she mumbles, her voice full of sleepy indignation.

You laugh quietly, your fingers trailing up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s on you for sneaking a taste,” you tease gently.

She huffs playfully, burying her face into your shoulder as her arms tighten around you. “I don’t care. I’m not moving,” she mutters stubbornly, her words muffled against your skin.

“Good,” you reply with a grin, pulling the blanket higher over both of you. “Stay right there.”

Her breathing slows as her body fully relaxes into yours, the warmth and weight of her slight frame grounding you both. Even as sleep claims her, her leg stays draped over your waist, her fingers resting limply on your chest as if to remind you she’s still there.

Under the fresh covers, surrounded by the calm intimacy of the moment, you let your own eyes drift closed. The world outside fades, leaving just the quiet sound of her breaths and the steady beat of her heart against your side as you both sink into peaceful slumber, perfectly entwined.

[lovelivision]

SLEEP OVER PT.1

pairing: fushiguro toji/reader

wc: 2.3k

summary: staying the night at your boyfriends place for the first time is nervewracking, especially when he seems to feel a certain way about you wearing his clothes

a/n; dilf dilf dilf dilf dilf dilf...uhm anyways...i lurv toji a lot and i needed to write something for him, i thought it would fix me but it may have made me worse :D also, i would like to write a part 2 for this maybe :3

warnings: 18+ only, smut, established relationship, tiny bit of possessiveness, (minor) size difference kink, heavy petting, dry humping, afab!reader, no use of pronouns or y/n, nicknames used; doll, ma'am (once in a joking way)

MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

Hovering in Toji’s kitchen, you try to make yourself seem more relaxed, you’ve been in his house plenty of times now but this time is different. This is the first time you’re staying the night, alone, in his house, with him.

Besides heavy petting, nothing more has ever happened between the two of you, to say you have expectations is an understatement. It doesn’t have to happen but you’ve been together for a little bit now and there’s only so long you can hold out, you mean, have you seen Toji?

He’s been patient, you were initially the one who said you didn’t want to rush things, you were scared of just being a lay and asked him to wait until you felt ready, which he has respected. He’s respected it…too well, barely making out before he’s parting from you. The sexual frustration you’ve been feeling has you wound so tight that you might literally implode as soon as he touches you.

From across the counter separating you, he teases, “You gonna help me over here? Or did you propose baking together just to watch me do it for you?”

“Well… I am enjoying the view,” you flirt back, playing off the stiffness in your joints.

He raises a brow at you, “How about you flirt with me while whisking that bowl right there,” he nods down to the bowl just off to his side.

“Yessir,” you stand at attention and throw a little salute his way.

When you round the bench to stand next to him, he bumps into your shoulder with his own, “You feeling okay, doll?”

You hum and look up at him, “Yeah, I’m good.”

It’s mostly quiet after that, aside from small talk and teasing remarks made while you finish prepping the ingredients. You told him that sleepovers needed brownies and he went out and bought stuff to make them, it was incredibly sweet and made you almost swoon on the spot when you showed up and he told you what he’d done.

Unluckily for you and your clumsy nature, his sink sprays a bunch of water down your front as you’re washing a dish. You let out an unceremonious squeaking sound at the sudden rush of cold running all the way down your pyjama shirt, to your pants.

The bowl Toji was holding clatters a bit as he drops it to be at your side, “What happened?” He asks before seeing your drenched clothes, an amused smile taking place where his concern was sitting, “You’re not much help in the kitchen, huh?”

“Hey!” you frown at him, “I am perfectly helpful, thank you very much. It’s not my fault your sink hates me.” You feel like a wet cat under his gaze, “What am I meant to do now? These are the only pyjamas I bought with me,” you pout slightly, looking down at your ruined clothes.

“Just wear something of mine,” he shrugs easily.

The idea of wearing his comfortable clothes makes your skin buzz, “Okay… thank you,” you mumble at him.

He scoffs at your sudden coyness, “You want me to pick something out for you or do you got it?”

“No, I got it,” you smile at him before turning to wander through the house to his room.

Shuffling through his drawers, you find a shirt and some sweatpants to wear. They’re large on you, the whole look incredibly baggy, having to pull the drawstrings on his sweats a bit tighter to make sure they stay up. You feel better though, warm, you hope he won’t mind but you had to borrow a pair of his boxers as well…

When you walk back into the kitchen, Toji does a double take on you, his eyes widening slightly, “You comfy?”

“Very,” you walk up to him, “You finish with the brownie mix?”

He stares at you for a moment before replying, “…Yeah, they’re in the oven.”

“Nice, putting the mix in the tray is my least favourite part, it’s always so sticky and messy and I end up getting frustrated because it won’t all go in and then I need another spoon to get the mix off the spatula and then I have to go back and forth…” You trail off, noticing he’s not really paying attention to what you’re saying, he is looking at you though, “Toji, Something wrong?”

He considers you for a moment, “You look cute,” is all he says.

You feel shy under his gaze now, not expecting him to compliment you so sincerely, “So do you?”

He barks a laugh at your clumsy compliment, “Alright, wanna watch something while we wait?” He changes the topic.

“Sure!”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

He’s not as subtle as he thinks he is, his hand rests on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in circles but just because he’s not subtle doesn’t mean it’s not working. The tv plays some movie in front of the pair of you but you can’t pay attention, you’ve not retained a single plot point, his warm hand on your thigh is all you can feel, all you can register.

You have a feeling you’re going to have to be the one to break this, the weird limbo you’re both in. Turning your head to the side and looking up, you aren’t ready for how he’s already looking down at you, his hand on your thigh reaches for the side of your face, cradling you gently. He moves in slowly, giving you the chance to pull back in protest if you don’t want him to kiss you.

You want it though and lean up the rest of the way, kissing him deeply, wanting to put your lips on him for nearly the whole time you’ve been here. He meets your eagerness, his hand holding you more firmly, his tongue licking into your mouth, wanting to taste you. His body moves into yours more, his other hand grabbing at your hip.

His kisses grow rushed and he ends up trailing them to your neck, kissing and licking along the exposed skin there. The hand on your face angles you to his will, manoeuvring you every which way so he can get his lips on whatever part of you he desires.

Huffed out whine leave you at the way he nips at your skin, he has enough of the odd angle and pulls you onto his lap completely, sitting back as his hands roam your body over his clothes.

“Toji,” you whine out his name.

His eyes look into yours, “Do you need me to stop?”

Shaking your head at him, you say, “No, I need more…”

“You really do look cute in my clothes,” he murmurs, leaning in again and pressing a full kiss to your lips, “You look comfortable… all wrapped up in my clothes.” He reiterates that they are in fact his clothes you’re wearing.

His hands move under the large shirt, groping at your bare skin, delighting in the warmth and plushness of you. Your body breaks out in goose bumps as a noticeable shiver runs down your spine, his touch electrifying to you.

“My, how sensitive you are,” he teases you, a self-satisfied grin making its way onto his face.

“Shut up,” you snark back, “Just… kiss me again?”

His smile grows, “Yes ma’am,” he jokes before kissing you again.

You’re getting lost in it, in the feel of his lips on yours, it’s making you dizzy and needy. Your hips grind down into his on their own accord and Toji moans against you, surprised by the sudden friction. Recovering quickly, his hands grab your hips and encourage you to keep going, your clothed cunt dragging up and down his covered cock has spots in your vision.

Your hands grip the fabric of his shirt tight, your lips disconnecting from his every time you moan, only for him to press them back together. His dick twitches in his pants, painfully erect and sensitive, he has a feeling he could cum like this.

This is the furthest the two of you have gone so far and he’s not wasting this opportunity, he needs to see you cum, he needs to hear it. The grip he has on you is harsh, his hips rut up into yours which results in the most pathetic sound he’s ever heard coming from you… he needs more.  

Pulling back, you whinge, “Toji~ I wan– t more… I want more.”

“Well… I want you to cum while wearing my clothes,” he counters.

You gasp at his blunt words, “I–”

You don’t get the chance to finish your thought, his hips thrusting up, the shock delicious. His dick is leaking profusely in his pants, he’s way too sensitive right now, for his grown age. You’d asked to go slow and he complied but that didn’t mean he didn’t have to furiously jerk himself off after your visits.

Toji’s boxers are uncomfortably wet against your core, slick and stuck to your pussy with how worked up he’s gotten you. All the layers are upsetting you; you just want one less layer, his pants, your pants, you don’t care, you just need more.

“Toji, lemme take off the sweats, please, please, please,” you all but beg at him.

“No. Told you,” he scolds, “I want you cumming in my clothes.”

“Mmm but…” You hesitate.

You’ve caught his interest, quirking a brow at you, he asks, “But what?”

You decide to tell him even though you’re a little embarrassed, “I’m also wearing your boxers.”

He holds you still against him, a sound of objection coming from you at the lack of friction, “You’re wearing my boxers?”

You nod quickly, hoping for this line of questioning to be done soon, “I am.”

“Why?”

You look down, to where you’re sat on top of him, his large cock strained against his pants, you falter slightly in your answer, distracted. Toji’s hand tapping against your thigh brings you back, “Mine were wet from the sink…”

He tugs at the sweats, “Take these off, right now.”

Standing on wobbly legs, you undo the drawstring on his pants and slip them down.

Toji groans at the sight of your bare legs, “Lift up my shirt,” he directs.

Which you do, biting your lip, trying to fight off the urge to run away in embarrassment. Your hands hold his shirt up slightly, exposing to him how you’re wearing his boxers.

His eyes scan your lower half carefully, his heart stuttering in is chest. His light grey boxers dark where your arousal has pooled, “Fuck, come here,” he pats his lap, grabbing you when you’re close enough. “You’re so fucking wet, doll, shit.”

When you’re back on his lap, he wastes no time, his cock rubs between your folds, parting them from under his boxers, the friction different and consuming. This feels so much better than before, it feels almost intense after getting minimal sensation.

“Toji~ I don’t think I’ll last long like this,” you admit, feeling shame from how pathetic you must seem.

“Good,” he groans, his hips thrusting up into yours while his hands drag you back and forth on his cock, “I won’t either.”

To hear he’s just as effected by this as you are makes your cunt pulse around nothing, a whimper leaving you from how pathetically empty you feel, “I still want more,” you pout.

“Later,” he promises.

Your skin buzzes and your stomach clenches, your fingers dig into his shoulders, feeling impossibly close to finishing. Your eyes grow dazed, hot, huffed breaths leaving your parted lips. The sight has Toji’s cock twitching profusely, barely fighting off his orgasm, wanting to see you cum first.

“Come on, doll, I need to see it,” he tugs you quicker, your slick cunt sliding easily against his pants, the wetness seeping through the boxers onto them, “I need to see you cum for me.”

You shudder at his words, “I’m gonna–”

One of his hands leave your hip and slides to your face, his thumb pressing past your lips, you take it and suck on it, tongue licking the pad of it gently. A moan from deep in his chest rumbles under your hands, it’s all too much. Your cunt flutters against him and your eyes roll back, moans muffled around his thumb as your cum gushes from your pussy, coating his boxers even more.

Toji can’t help but watch, he’s watching you so closely, his cock cumming very suddenly. Your orgasm, the dumb look in your eyes, the flutter of your lashes, the shake in your body as you cum in his clothes undoes him. His own cum seeps into his pants, a large, wet stain growing on his sweats as his dick jerks with his orgasm.

He pulls his thumb from your mouth, dragging your lower lip down with it, “Fuck,” he bites out.

He rides out both your highs, lightly grinding his hips up into you as you both come down. Your form collapses into him, curling yourself around him. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as you jolt every now and again, it’s cute, he thinks.

You lay peacefully like this for a moment before you remember, “The brownies,” you try to pull yourself away from him.

“They’re fine, oven went off only a moment ago,” he hums.

“I’ll go grab them then,” you say.

“Alright, shaky, off you go,” he mocks you and your jelly legs.

Pulling back, you frown at him, “I will.”

He just smiles knowingly at you.

Crawling off him carefully, you stand on your shaky legs momentarily before sitting back down on the couch next to him, “Maybe you should go get them.”

“Mhm,” he answers, leaning over he presses a kiss to your cheek, “That’s what I thought.”

You cross your arms over your chest and scowl at him, pretending to be more upset than you actually are.

Toji goes into the kitchen and pulls the brownies out, he calls over to you, “So… I hope you like the corners of your brownies a little crispy.”

You can’t help but laugh at that.

PLAGIARISM NOT CONDONED | REPOSTS NOT AUTHORISED

[paymechildsupport]

"You're not my Husband..." // Doppel!Francis x Reader 🐄🩸

@cassanderasblog --> Thanks for the request <3

-!! CW: Dubcon (in a sense), – Brief mention of murder, – Very slight body horror

-!! Very brief size kink 

Spouse!Reader x doppelgänger!Francis  

▷ —--------------------

▷ —--------------------

▷ —-------------------- (s-s-s-sma-smash)

“You’re not Francis.” The words are sharp, punctuated, your glare burning straight through the mimic of a man in your living room

“No, I’m not,” The creature grins- if you could even call it that–, mouth a waning black chasm, no teeth, no tongue, nothing. How this thing managed to bypass the doormen you had no clue,-- how could someone fuck up this bad? 

“Francis’s” eyes darken, – literally. The whites turn into an inky black, eery small spheres of light peeking out where his pupils should be. 

Oh dear. 

The wired phone you keep on the kitchen counter goes off behind you. Glancing once more at your “husband” you slowly back track, hand inching to the phone. 

He just watches as you hesitantly pick up the ringing phone, making a click when it’s pulled from its cover. 

“Attention, this is the D.D.D, – we detected an unknown life force near your residency. Please, do not panic. Keep your door locked and do not approach anyone of suspicion. If you see anything weird, do not investigate. Dispatchers are coming to your location to liquidate the threat”   – Well, it was a little late for that. 

“... cancel dispatch” your lips form the words slowly. There’s silence on the other end, 

“Excuse me?... you want dispatch–” 

“Discharged. Threat neutralized.” 

Even “Francis” is stunned, – staring at you, unblinking, – flabbergasted. 

“‘Got it under control, thanks,” You hang up before they can answer, placing the phone back in its place. 

“Francis” just stares.

-

“You’re a doppelgänger , right?” 

“Perhaps.” His eyes narrow

“Alrighty then, prove it.” 

Unzips. 

—-------------

“Francis” stares, wide eyed, gaze fixed upon the water stains on your ceiling. Even with all the lights off, he can still see your snoozing frame tangled in the sheets beside him, (perks of being non-human). 

Your chest rose and fell with each breath, the movement captivating whatever posed as your husband. 

Your body looked serene, the faint light emitted from his glowing pupils illuminating your chest. 

“Ahah-!” You were practically in hysterics, tears flowing down your rosy cheeks, nails raking into the headboard of your bed. “Francis” could only lie there, enamored by your blissful expression as unfamiliar sparks of pure pleasure coiled inside, heating everything up until it was practically molten. 

“Mmph-!” you choke off your moans, slapping a hand to your mouth lest your neighbors hear you impaling yourself on your husband’s doppelgänger 's cock. 

You swivel your hips, his eyes widening; no one’s ever ridden him like you are, – no one’s ridden him period. You were surprised the doppelgänger  even had a dick, – let alone it being almost twice the size of the actual Francis’. You had stuffed yourself full of him, bouncing mercilessly. Your husband had neglected you horribly in the past,-- never coming home, always giving you the cold shoulder, even when you had gotten down and begged for him to look at you, just once –your thirst for intimate touch was at an all time high. 

“Francis” grunted, surprised at how wonderful this new sensation was. The delicious heat in his stomach bubbled over, bottoming out through his cock. Your eyes widened at the warm sensation of him, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You had to bend down, biting deeply into his shoulder to stifle the screams lodged in your throat. 

You inhaled deeply, desperately trying to catch your breath as “Francis” could only glance over, the slight pain in his shoulder from your teeth barely bothering him, (because, well, one, you were the only one who could breathe and two, he wasn’t human). Your head turns, sloppily kissing him on the cheek, to his absolute shock. 

“Francis” brings his right arm to his left shoulder, fingers gingerly grazing the marks left by your teeth. It still tingled. 

He looks over at your slumbering frame again, now tentatively reaching the same arm in your direction, hesitantly touching your peaceful face. You do not stir, so he continues downward, fingers carefully glazing over your nose, your mouth, your jaw, and finally stopping at your neck, your pulse vibrating through his hand. Humans were so interesting, he thought, – and you had just grabbed his interest by the throat with a viselike grip. 

He gently tucks a stray piece of hair plastered to your sweat slicked forehead behind your ear, grinning in that creepily endearing way of his. How the original Francis lucked out, – he almost felt bad about killing and devouring his corpse, – almost. How could he have fumbled so badly, – you were an absolute treasure, and “Francis” was now determined to keep you all to himself. 

Such a greedy little creature. 

… You’re never going to be able to get rid of him after this. 

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

(requests for more Francis, -- doppelgänger or no, -- are open and very much appreciated !)

I love him a normal amount I swear 🙏🙏🙏

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Stray Kids & Their Favorite Part of Their Chubby Gf's Body ♡

♡ A/N: I wrote this for all of my chubby/plus size/fluffy Stays out there who might be in need of some spicy body worship and a little reminder that you're a fucking baddie worthy of being desired. K, love you, byeee.

♡ Pairing: ot8!stray kids x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: fluff/smut

♡ Word Count: 2.2k-ish total

♡ Warnings: reader's plus size sooo obvi descriptions of chubby bodies, body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, a lil manhandling, tit sucking, oral sex (m&f receiving), spanking, and that's all there is, loves.

♡ Bang Chan ♡

Something Chan gets teased about a lot is how he always manages to find an excuse to have you in his arms. If it’s an arm casually thrown around your waist while you’re waiting in line at the coffee shop or a full on bear hug when you’re sitting on his lap at the studio, he craves the comfort of having your body close to his. He does it even more when he’s stressed or has had a particularly long day. Chan will bring you in close, squeezing you tight, giving special attention to the squishing your love handles. You always giggle, telling him not to play with your rolls. You swear you’ll get rid of them one day and Chan gets all grumpy every single time. They’re a part of you. He can’t imagine you without them. Actually, he doesn’t want to. It’s so relaxing to squeeze them when he’s holding you close, letting the annoyances of the day melt away in your presence. Sometimes that’s not enough though and he needs some extra stress relief which you’re always more than pleased to offer him. He finds it super sexy when you choose to take the lead, climbing on top and riding him at a slow sensual pace while his hands are free to roam wherever they wish. Still, they always find their way back to your love handles, gripping them to bounce you in his lap at whatever speed he desires. And when you're dangerously close to your high, making the prettiest noises as you're ready to gush all over his length, he can hold onto them to keep you right where he wants you, totally at his mercy, unable to do anything else besides moan and whine in his grip.

♡ Changbin ♡

Changbin’s the strongest man you know—one glance at those heavenly muscles makes it impossible to question that fact—but even the strongest men have weaknesses and one of his happens to be your thighs. If you ever want to see this man blush all you need to do is show up to one of your dates in a skirt just short enough that he can get a peek at your soft thighs kissing. He’ll barely pay attention to his meal, preoccupied instead with how your thighs rub together when you walk over to the table or how they seem even thicker when you take your seat, the fabric of your skirt riding up as you settle in. Being the gentleman that he is, he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on you when you’re out in public but once you’re in the car? That’s a different story entirely. It’s one hand on the steering wheel and the other snug between your thighs all the way home. He’ll take his time massaging the plump flesh, occasionally letting his fingers drift up to tease you through your panties. By the time you get home you’ll be soaking wet, desperate for the teasing to come to an end, but Changbin won’t be in a rush. Changbin will press you up against anything—the wall, the couch, the kitchen counter—taking as long as he wants to kiss and lick your thighs until even he can’t take it anymore and he’s tucking your panties aside to taste your juices. There’s truly nothing like the way your thighs shake when his tongue’s inside of you.

♡ Seungmin ♡

Before meeting you stretch marks weren’t something that Seungmin cared about one way or another. He knew that people got them from gaining weight or losing it. It was as simple as that. Of course he knew that there were people who felt insecure about them but it seemed so silly to him that anyone would feel bad about something so insignificant. Meeting you didn’t change that. He still sees no reason to be insecure about them. What did change was his view of them as insignificant. After seeing you naked for the first time he fell in love with them, finding beauty in every single stretch mark on your body. If you’re together and your stretch marks happen to peek out of your clothes he wouldn’t dare tell you to put them away. Instead he’ll take that as an excuse to trace them with his fingertips, following them along the curves of your body. He’s so obsessed that he notices new ones before you do. Not that he’d ever admit that. Seungmin likes to pretend that his fascination isn’t as intense as it is when both of you know the truth. He can play up the indifferent act all he wants but nothing can hide how drawn he is to them. You can literally be riding his face, his eyes too blurred and glossy from being pussy drunk to even see, and his fingers will chart their course right to your stretch marks. It always makes you wetter to be silently praised like that and that’s how Seungmin likes it. You’re so much more delicious when you’re high off of praise.

♡ Hyunjin ♡

To say that Hyunjin’s obsessed with your silhouette would be the understatement of the century. The contours of your body are pure art to him. He could spend all day admiring them. The few times you’ve actually caught him staring are nothing compared to how much he’s actually done it. You don’t even have to be doing anything remotely sexual for this man to get hypnotized. The simple act of you existing in your body is enough to test his impulse control and he fails every single time. It doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night, he can’t resist the temptation to feel the warmth of your body beneath his touch. Hyunjin likes to cuddle up behind you, gently pushing your shirt up to let his hand rest against your side for a little bit before his palms are riding the soft hills of your figure. He starts out slow, careful not to wake you, but then you let out those cute, hushed moans in your sleep and it makes him feral. By the time he’s done devouring you with his touch you’re half awake, mindlessly pressing yourself back against his hard cock as he sweetly kisses your neck, his fingers slipping into your panties to feel how wet you’ve gotten without even knowing it. The shape of you is such a beautiful sight to see, especially with all the ways you twist when you’re coming undone around his fingers. And that's never the end of things. How could it be when you always get him so hard and there's so many positions left to put you in?

♡ I.N ♡

If you check Jeongin’s phone he probably has as many pictures of you as he does of himself which is saying a lot for a guy whose job basically requires him to take a million selfies a day. Jeongin treasures the photos he has of the two of you together but his favorites are the ones that are just you so that he can dedicate all of his attention to drooling over how pretty you are. Your face has always been the center of everything for him and he can’t get enough of it. Your eyes, your nose, your lips. Don’t even get him started on your cute little chin and your chubby cheeks. If it’s cold out he races to warm your cheeks with his palms. When he kisses you he never misses the opportunity to cup your face, softly stroking your cheek as his lips move against yours. It isn’t a rare occurrence for him to come out of nowhere, pinching your cheeks and telling you what a cutie you are. It isn’t always about you being cute though. Your face is as seductive as it is adorable and he’d give anything to have your sexier expressions immortalized on his phone. Since that’s just not safe to do—he’d hate to accidentally send that to the group chat—he just has to cherish those moments when he can witness it in real time. It should be illegal to look so good with your lips wrapped around his cock, your cheeks even fluffier all filled up with his cum. Don’t even get him started on what it’s like to see you hit your high. Your face flush with heat, your eyes sparkling with tears, your walls spasming wildly around his cock, his fingers, his tongue, or even your favorite toy. You look like an angel. A sexy little fucked out angel but an angel all the same.

♡ Han ♡

If your body had a fandom, Han's bias would be your boobs. It’s been clear since day one that he’s head over heels for them. You have gorgeous eyes, the prettiest he’s ever seen, but he can’t help how his gaze tends to drift below your neckline to those soft, bouncy breasts resting on your chest. Sometimes he’ll hug you from behind, wrapping his arms around you so that your boobs are propped up by his forearms. Other times he’ll take the not so subtle approach of scooping them into his hands, gently kneading them to feel their weight in his palms. When it’s time to go shopping for bras he’ll be right there, eager to help you pick one out and more than willing to pay for whichever one you want. His favorites are the pretty laced ones that bring your tits together to make for the most succulent cleavage he’s ever seen in his life. As much as he loves a good bra, he’ll take you without one any day of the week. Late nights trapped in studio sessions are always made easier when he knows he’ll stumble through the door of your shared apartment to find you already changed into a pair of his sweatpants and a thin crop top that lets your nipples show through. No matter how exhausted he is, the sight of you innocently skipping around the house without a bra gives him more than enough energy to get you out of that crop top and spend all night French kissing your sensitive nipples. He gets so needy for you, on the verge of whining as his tongue swirls around your bud, his cock straining against his pants. He could cum from this alone without ever having to be inside of you but it’s so much better when he is.

♡ Felix ♡

If you ever want to see Felix get all pouty, say literally anything negative about your belly. He’s super protective of you in general, constantly showering you in reassuring words about your body, but your belly’s the cutest thing in the world to him and there’s no slander allowed. If you’re rocking a dress and he finds out that you’re wearing shapewear or tights to smooth yourself out he’ll for sure find a way around them. Nothing stops your man from squishing his girl’s belly, not even you. It gets to the point that you don’t even bother anymore. You just let your belly take whatever shape it wishes and Felix eats it up every single time. He’s so down bad for it that he holds onto it when he’s going to sleep. Some mornings you even wake up to him dozing away with his head resting on your belly and his arms around your waist. Any attempts to pull him off are useless. He’ll only hold you tighter, grumbling in protest as he nuzzles your shirt up to kiss your bare skin. At this point you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve been late to work because Felix got carried away praising you with his lips and the situation escalated to sleepy morning sex that left you pinned beneath him, his name the first thing to leave your lips at the crack of dawn. There's so much about you to enjoy—the slickness of your walls, how hot you sound moaning in his ear—but he always has to steal a few glances of how beautifully your belly jiggles when he bottoms out.

♡ Lee Know ♡

Meeting Minho through mutual friends meant that you’d already heard a lot about him before you started dating. This included the rumors that Minho couldn’t get enough of a nice ass once he saw one. Naturally you laughed off that information, assuming that his friends must’ve been exaggerating for the sake of a joke. As it turns out, they weren’t exaggerating at all. In fact, everything they said would happen has happened. Minho worships every part of you but your ass gets special treatment for sure. If you’re around other people or not, his intrusive thoughts are always winning. It’s like a compulsion. He has to at least pat it or give it a light slap to feel it jiggle. In his defense, you do have an ass beyond worth worshipping. It’s gorgeous in sweatpants, in shorts, in panties, or in nothing at all. That last one’s his preferred option though and he won’t even try to deny it. No matter how delicious your plush ass looks in some lace panties, it’ll never beat the perfection of seeing you without them. And when you let him bend you over to spank you as hard as he wants? This man doesn’t know what to do with himself. He can only keep it together for so long before he’s easing his cock into you to feel how every slap has you trembling, the vibrations traveling through your body while you're just dripping down his length. You're usually a bit sore after but it's totally worth it for something that feels so good. Plus Minho always kisses it better.

[yutasbellybuttonpiercing]

slowly, i'm going down

access full masterlist here!

pairing: song mingi x reader (no pronouns mentioned, reader has female anatomy)

au/genre: college!au, tutor!reader, mingi does not give a shit about studying, smut

word count: 4816 words

warnings: voice kink (AHHHHH), oral and fingering (reader receiving), reader is a little mean, kitchen sex, anime references, cringe, a joke about adhd, dirty talk... um..., oh right Mingi has a big dick (wbk), everyone's a little silly, unprotected sex (boo ‼️👎🏻), premature ejaculation almost, creampie, cum eating... (not reader...), i think that's it. NOT PROOF READ YET!!

synopsis: mingi hates studying, but what he hates way more than that is being perceived as stupid. what mingi loves on the other hand, are pretty people getting flustered about his voice

or

mingi shows you exactly what he hates and loves.

a/n: i was almost ready when i saw this tiktok and it completely blocked my mind because it's SO FUNNY, but at the same time, it's men being dudes, dudes being bros, and that kind of made it hard for me to continue. i apologize for the 24h delay 😞

taglist: @byuntrash101 @goquokka @ashwoodforest @choisansnotsolegalwife

Mingi is not one to sit there and look at books. Or papers. Or anything that doesn't move and feed his brain with bright colors and his ears with noises, really. He prefers to vibe, and studying is definitely not the vibe. Sadly, studying is a part of his life as a university student. Yes, he chose this path for himself and yes, he was aware that it would involve studying. Still, now that it's really happening and is not just an obstacle to overcome in the far, far future, Mingi kind of wishes he'd chosen something else to do with his life. It's just exhausting, why would he waste the precious time he has left on planet earth on something that doesn't get the serotonin floating? He's pretty sure he has some undiagnosed ADHD simmering up there, but who is he to judge that? He's certainly not studying to become a doctor or whatever.

Anyway, given the fact that Mingi doesn't like to study, he's not had much experience with it in the first place. He's barely gotten his way through school, but uni is a different level. Hence, he needs someone to 1) teach him how to study and 2) make him study, or rather: have a judging eye on him while he is supposed to study, so the fear of being called out on it may light a fire under his ass and force him to bury his nose between the stinky pages of an old library book (on that note: he also needed someone to show him how to check out books from the library).

And that's why you are here, every Thursday afternoon, sitting at the sad excuse of a kitchen counter slash dining table in Mingi's scandalously expensive apartment given its size, growling next to him every time you catch him analyzing the bumps on his wallpapers instead of the letters on the pages.

Mingi generally likes you, even though you are a bit scary, he has to admit, or maybe that's the appeal. You are polite, but you have a way of looking at him that makes him feel like he's getting mansplained by your eyes. Your taunting gaze on him makes him feel small, and he doesn't like that at all. It makes him feel like all these years of drinking milk to make him stand at the 1.84m he is at today were in vain. You always have that one expression on your face, and maybe that's just Mingi's subconsciousness telling him to STUDY HARD FOR GOD'S SAKE, but in the way your eyebrows would scrunch together just the tiniest bit, he reads: God, he is fucking stupid.

He doesn't know which (since he did not pay attention in biology class, nor is he even sure they teach that in biology class) chemical in his brain suffers an allergic reaction every time you look at him like that, but there has to be one. There is nothing that Mingi hates more than being called stupid. Well, except for studying, maybe.

Call him lazy, call him a scalawag, call him witty for being able to get through all of school without reading a single one of the set books if you must, but do not call him stupid.

The only problem is that you haven't, well, called him stupid per se. It's just how Mingi interprets your stares. Also, he desperately needs you because he doubts there will be many other contestants that are okay with getting paid as little as you are (which is all Mingi has left by the end of a month full of Pokémon trading cards). So Mingi just has to sit back and relax and simply take it because, apparently, that's what he gets for not studying his entire life.

A loud ringing wakes Mingi from his peaceful afternoon nap - one that he has really earned this time around, he managed to look through his study notes for a full 20 minutes during his lunch break!

Disoriented, Mingi raises his head to make out his location and what year he is in. It rings again. Slowly, Mingi recognizes the shrill sound as his door bell. He slowly gets up, a quick glance in the mirror tells him that his hair is an absolute mess (which is really a crowning achievement given his buzz cut length) and he has imprint marks from his blanket all over his right cheek, but his sleepy mind doesn't even take it in. Mingi furrows his brows and shakes his head. Who would dare to disturb his peaceful slumber at this ungodly hour (4pm)?

The answer, of course, stands right in front of his door. With your arms crossed and the tip of your shoe drumming a dent into Mingi's "come in if you're a silly baka"-door mat, you raise an unimpressed brow at the sleepy shell of Mingi that blinks one eye after the other.

A few seconds pass until Mingi finally realizes who you are, and his mouth forms an 'o'-shape. Immediately after, he furrows his brows once again, his body slumping forward a bit because: why on God's green earth are you here? Then, it hits him like a truck, the aftermath of the collision blowing the remaining sleep out of his eyes: it's Thursday afternoon!

"Sorry," he says and sheepishly scratches the back of his head, then steps aside to let you enter.

"It's fine, it's only freezing cold outside," you stare at him before stepping in, shudder as you kick your shoes off, slip into Mingi's guest slippers and hurry inside. Mingi's brain does not register the sarcasm drenching your words.

"Let's get to it, shall we?" You ask as Mingi finally manages to follow you into the kitchen. You sit, take out a few sheets of paper from your backpack, then look over questioningly as Mingi has not even moved a millimeter, but instead started yawning like his life depends on it. Your eyes drift down his body. "Or maybe after you've put on some pants?"

Mingi freezes, looks down to confirm that, indeed, he's not wearing pants, but Naruto boxer shorts, then covers his crotch with his hands and buzzes off into his room.

Minutes later, Mingi reenters the kitchen, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips that, yes, he checked twice if he's wearing them the right way around. As mentioned, he is generally unable to properly focus on his studies, but today, it's exceptionally bad. Of course, you'd notice.

"Mingi, are you okay?" There's worry in your eyes – a sight Mingi has not seen. Ever.

"I'm fine, just tired," he mumbles, eyes unfocusing as he stares ahead.

"Yeah, you are? Why?" Mingi's tired mind cannot question why you suddenly seem so interested in his well-being. He also doesn't put any meaning into why you're scooting closer to him, your forearm accidentally touching his.

"I studied during my lunch break," Mingi informs you, a little, proud smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Something tingles inside his chest as you carefully place your hand on his arm. As he looks over at you, you smile at him, and he notices your gaze flickering down to his lips for a second.

Hold on. Mingi's mind suddenly snaps out of its hazy state and works on overdrive. He might be the type to vibe, the type to just let things play out, but he'd be damned if he didn't notice when someone likes him like that. He suddenly notices the way you started creating skin-on-skin contact with him, the way you want to be closer to him, eyeing him even more than you ever did before. Just... why? Is it because you saw him in his Anime panties?

A few moments pass, and you sit back, then pat your pencil against the book to remind him of the reason why you're actually here. Mingi groans, admittedly a little dramatically and unreasonably erotic, brushing a hand through his hair to flex his biceps right in front of your face. You seem unimpressed.

"Well, fuck me," he chuckles deeply, the rasp in his voice more evident than usual due to his nap. It's then when you tense, he notices from the corner of his eye. Oh. Okay. So it's the voice?

"I'm really glad you're tutoring me, you know?" He purrs, throwing in a little praise to get you extra bothered, and you simply breathe out nervously.

"Heh, no worries," you brush him off. Mingi decides that, for now, he's made you suffer enough and keeps quiet. Instead, he focusses on his studies, although he's already planning his next step to terrorize you with the sultry rasp his vocal cords are gifted with.

"Mingi, focus-"

"No, I get what I have to do, the contents just won't stay in my head." Mingi reasons, his voice unusually, but not by chance, high pitched, eyebrows scrunched as to why the hell he has to do this before doing that only to do whatever next when it wasn't like this for the other exercise he had to do minutes prior. He is not stupid (!), he does understand how this works. It's just that it doesn't make sense, and that is surely not his fault.

"Are you stup-" you start, but shut your mouth before you're even able to call him the dumbest fucker you've ever crossed paths with. Mingi inhales sharply. Oh, oh, you're lucky he is patient, and you're lucky he knows that as soon as he growled a few dirty words into your ear, you'd slam your upper body on the counter without regards of caution, pushing your panties down under your skirt and begging him to take you right there - or at least, that's what he imagines.

Yes, Mingi is super patient, that's just what comes with the entire vibe-personality package, so he does not dump your cute sorry ass on his baka-door mat, but simply closes his pen, lays it on the table and looks at you. A fabulous idea plops into his mind.

"God," he groans as deeply as he can, stretching his arms over his head, "I guess I'm just a little" - he throws in a little moany sigh - "a little distracted today."

"A-are you?" You nod, biting your lip subconsciously. Mingi looks at you without moving his head. "Why?"

"Well, just stuff, you know?" Mingi enjoys how the rumble in his voice makes his throat and - obviously - you feel. "There's just a lot, going on. Like big... big stuff. Stuff that just keeps coming and coming, in and out, just like that. Ugh, I wish I could just let all this frustration out you know, all this pent up stuff." He watches for your reaction.

Unmistakably, your hand holding your own pen in a relaxed manner mere seconds ago now desperately grasps the poor objects until your knuckles turn white, your breathing is uneven and loud as if you'd just ran the entire way from Mingi's place to the next convenience store (seriously, why the fuck is he paying so much for this godforsaken apartment?). And - Mingi's favorite reaction to him ever: you're pressing your thighs together.

Oh, how Mingi loves himself a good reaction like this.

"Big stuff, huh?" Your voice trembles as your nervous eyes search for his. "H-how big?"

"Oh, really big. Just really fucking big," Mingi confirms with a slight smirk. He loves how you just fold easily like that. One second, you're over there feeling superior on your little throne of knowledge that Mingi lacks, and the next, you're making a little mess in your panties just because Mingi so much as spoke. Absolutely incredible. People should start calling him "the rizzler".

"I think-" you clear your throat, "I think I should head home then?"

Mingi smiles to himself as soon as you turn away to pack your stuff into your backpack. His hands automatically reach out to play with his pen, his long, slender fingers toying with the object, inevitably drawing your attention to the movements. "Already?"

"Mhm." You stare a second too long, gulp, then hastily stuff your belongings into the big compartment of the backpack, Mingi listens to the sweet melody of stressed breathing and papers crunching.

As amused as he is, he decides that it is time for the big reveal.

"Keep it in your pants, baby" he looks over, his eyebrow halfway raised, and stops rocking back and forth and fiddling with the pencil as you freeze in your tracks and stop packing. "What?"

Slowly, you turn your head to look at him. "So you know?" You manage to squeak.

Mingi smugly pushes his tongue into his cheek. He loves how you're basically vibrating out of nervousness. "Oh, I know."

You sigh, hands finally letting go of your stuff and motioning defeat. He wonders what's going on in your mind right now. Are you afraid he's going to call you out? That he's going to make fun of you? That he's going to call you a needy slut and send you home? Or are you wondering if he's going to give you what you want? Mingi loves this game.

That's why he decides to make your situation a little more miserable.

"I also know that you think I'm stupid," he explains calmly, trying his best to no longer show any excitement, smugness, or any emotion whatsoever on his sharp facial features to really confuse you. Well, that's what you're getting for (almost) calling The Song Mingi stupid. Just a little payback, is all. He's not going to go so far and make you cry. No, no, Mingi can't handle when people cry, much less so if it's because of him.

Nevertheless, your breath hitches. Oh, you're fully aware that he didn't like you calling him that at all. Oh, how the gears are turning behind your forehead as you're trying to figure out what's going on, and what's going to go on in the next minutes.

"Thought so," Mingi deadpans. Yeah, that's right. Look how smart he is now! Super smart! He's got you all figured out. He knows exactly what to say and how to act to make you feel - and, fuck, does this feel like redemption - stupid.

"I'm sorry-" you start, back facing Mingi's form, but Mingi is not here for it. Mingi has gotten what Mingi wants. Mingi feels as powerful as he imagines a lion to feel, like, every day.

"Dumb fucks good," he simply states, just putting it out there, throwing it into the room for you to do with that statement whatever you like. Mingi's mind is already satisfied, his ego stroked because he's just proven that he isn't dumb. Although... he wouldn't mind a little diddling because, if he's being honest, you're hot as fuck and seeing you react to him in this way- well, he's also just a man!

"What?" You probably think you must've terribly misheard him as you whip your head around to face the confident Mingi smugly leaned back in his chair. Your eyes meet his, and he is sure that you now realize that, no, you definitely did not mishear him. That was exactly what he said.

In the blink of an eye, Mingi feels your presence on his lap, a last final look into his eyes before he feels your lips against his, desperately chewing away the remaining air separating his spit from yours. It's messy, lips colliding, too much teeth and tongue, but it's all raw and desperate. Mingi gets the vibes that you may have had some pent up want for him, but that's honestly the last clear thought he can muster before you grind your hips against his.

A deep groan escapes Mingi's lips, inevitably echoing against your own quiet gasps that just turn louder with every movement of your hips, your hands frantically trying to touch him everywhere at once to the point where he has to grab your arms and pull you back. Your eyes, wide. And confused, but somehow lidded and hazy at the same time struggle to take in Mingi in front of you. Yes, Mingi is aware of the effect of his siren eyes.

For another moment, he simply enjoys seeing how destroyed you look already, but honestly, there is just one thing on his mind.

"I'm gonna eat you out," he informs, waiting for you to nod frantically, whine and scramble off his lap for him to keep his promise. And you do, allowing Mingi to grab your waist with his large hands and lift you onto the counter. Of course, he can't resist getting another taste of your lips, almost losing himself in the soft pillows that frame your pretty mouth, but the hardness creating a tent in his sweatpants reminds him that he should possible attend a little lower.

Hence, he kisses his way over your cheek towards your jaw, then over your neck and down your collarbones. Mingi is not sure what your opinions on love bites are, so he just hopes you can remember him being right here and here and here even without visual proof, he can save that for next time.

Okay, Mingi admittedly was not able to hold himself back completely, his teeth only gently nipping at your skin on his way down. He simply hopes for the best, but your sounds seem to imply that you do not mind him one bit. Instead, you sound as if you wouldn't mind him taking a few bites more.

Impatient as you are, you assist Mingi in pushing your shirt out of the way, the straps of your bra automatically falling down your shoulders to reveal more of you to his hungry eyes.

And as much as Mingi would like to spend hours playing with your chest, he keeps it down to a minimum, kissing the soft flesh while gently pushing the remaining material out of the way for better access. His lips wrap around a nipple, his hands meanwhile busy with massaging the other and carefully holding your waist. God, Mingi loves boobs. But he might love the way your fingers comb through his hair and gently pull on it a bit more even.

Finally, the time has come, and Mingi kneels down on the floor. Pushing your skirt up, hands caressing your thighs, he creates eye contact with your eyes glazed over by lust and want. It doesn't even faze him that he hasn't cleaned these floors in weeks, honestly, he is in so deep he probably wouldn't even realize if the stove was on, lighting his study notes on fire.

He wants to tease you more, make you wait, maybe make you beg even, but he just feels too hungry to keep waiting. His fingers hook into the hem of your panties, pulling them down your legs as quickly as possible before spreading your legs and groaning in anticipation.

Throwing your thighs over his shoulders, he pulls you forward a little further, chuckling as you almost lose balance and smile at him. Okay, maybe Mingi feels a little tingle, and maybe that is not a horny tingle, but that's something to worry about later, if ever. Right now, he has a mission: dive in.

So that's what he does, obviously, planting a careful kiss right on your clit to wait for your reaction. And you do not disappoint, gasping slightly at the first sensation before getting louder and bolder the more Mingi tastes you.

His tongue gently parts your folds, getting a first taste of your juices. You basically cry out as his tongue prods at your hole, carefully easing its way inside to caress your walls.

Automatically, your hands fly to his hair, gently pulling at the roots to find a way to ground yourself, the feeling assumingely overwhelming, Mingi thinks, not to brag, but-

Mingi's eyes roll back at a particularly hard tug at his hair, paired with the way your hips grind closer until you're basically riding his face. Fuck, how are you so hot? Mingi's fingers grab hard at your thighs, loving the way the soft flesh feels in his hands.

To experiment a little more and, first and foremost, to get more rewarding reactions out of you, Mingi lets his mouth wander back up to your clit, gently sucking the nub between his lips, his tongue carefully flicking as not to overwhelm you. At the same time, a fingers sneaks its way over to circle your entrance.

Your throat coughs out a broken moan at this, your eyes switching between looking at Mingi's eyes and his mouth, and closing completely. Mingi loves taking in the pleasure written all over your face. He might not admit it, but he loves this kind of praise much more than verbal praise because your body really can't lie. He can literally taste how good he is at this.

He finally pushes his finger inside, loving how the wetness and muscle contractions are basically pulling him deeper and deeper until past his second knuckle. He feels around a little, trying to find the spots that seem to appeal to you the most, watching carefully how you react to each and every flick of his wrist.

Although, he feels that one finger is not enough to prepare you for the rest of him, so he adds another, massaging them into the spot that seems to be making you see stars with the way you grip his hair even tighter and mutter something he interprets as a warning that you're about to cum.

Keeping his pace, he successfully sends you over the edge, letting you ride out your high on his tongue before removing his lips, only getting his fingers massage the last clenches out of you.

Looking up he realizes you look, respectfully, wrecked, with your chest heaving, your hair a little messy and your eyes hazy and glossy, parted lips asking for his. And who is he to deny them, as he leans in to allow you to taste yourself. You seem to like it.

Pulling back after a while, he looks at you. You look so happy and relaxed like he's never seen before. For some reason, it reminds him of the weight in his pants that he suddenly feels the need to inform you about.

"You make me so hard," Mingi says lowly, carefully taking your hand to prove it to you, "feel." It's more your hand guiding his with how fast you reach down to feel him, eager to touch the outline of him through the sweatpants. And as if you're getting paid to stroke Mingi's ego even more, you gasp at his size.

Mingi can't help but smirk, of course, who wouldn't?

"Big stuff, huh?" You repeat your words from earlier, but this time no longer nervous, but cheeky as you bite your lip playfully. Oh, how Mingi would love to make you choke on his dick right now, just a little, and in a loving matter, but he's honestly waited long enough and he really just needs to be in you right now. And besides, Mingi is more in his giving > receiving era.

Instead, he grins. And he feels like there is something more.

Impatiently, you tug at his pants, successfully moving them a millimeter. Mingi helps you push his pants further down until it pools around his ankles. You giggle.

Damnit, Mingi. Why couldn't you've changed your underwear? Mingi mentally scolds himself, a good amount of his previously earned smugness flying out the window. Instead, he gives you kind of a sheepish look.

"I don't mind," you assure, tugging at his anime boxers next, "it's actually relieving to be reminded that you're still the cute, dorky Mingi and are not possessed by a sex demon."

"Incubus," Mingi points out.

"I don't fucking care. Just get this hideous thing off and have sex with me!"

Mingi does not need to be told twice, although he makes a mental note to scold you later for calling the one and only Naruto printed on a piece of fabric shielding his balls from the outside world hideous.

"God, fuck," you let out, and Mingi chuckles at your reaction to his naked lower half, "come here. Please."

You pull him closer, wrap your legs around him and beg him with your eyes. Mingi wastes not another second, aligning himself with your hole and slowly pushing forwards. Your eyes roll back as he enters you, causing you to hold onto him for dear life as he inches inside, filling you completely.

God, must your walls hug him so perfectly? Must you be so unbelievably wet just for him? Must you make these sounds? Mingi feels like he doesn't want to be inside anyone else ever again.

"I feel like I don't want to inside anything else ever again."

How did that get out there?

You chuckle, and have the nerve to pinch his cheek, as if he wasn't balls deep buried inside you right now. "You're so cute."

Cute?!

Mingi will show you cute. He grabs your jaw, admittedly still gently, and makes you look at him as he pulls almost all the way out until his tip catches at your entrance. "Cute?" And he pushes in all the way all at once. You moan, the feeling too much, too intense for you to still keep your eyes open. Helplessly, you cling to Mingi's body as he repeats the action 4 more times before setting a steady rhythm, angling his hips in a way that should stimulate the spot you liked so much earlier.

With your mouth hanging open and your eyebrows scrunched, you look like the prettiest thing Mingi's ever seen. He wants to see you drool, watch you completely lose your mind over nothing else but his cock. At the same time, he is surprised how good it feels. Well, not surprised that it feels good, but that it feels abnormally good, like he's about to nut in the next minute or so. Hopefully, he's able to coax another high out of you before that.

"What was it that riled you up so much earlier? My voice?" He growls, and you as much as whimper in return. "Yeah, like it that my voice is so deep?" You nod pathetically. "Cute."

"Mingi- 's so good."

"Yeah, am I fucking you good?" Mingi grins and you nod weakly, struggling to keep your eyes open. Mingi really shouldn't be the one talking big because honestly, he feels like if u moan one more time, if ur walls clench around him one more time, he is going to lose it. Something about this entire situation is just super surreal to him, or maybe it's simply you that is the reason for his premature high that is coming for him with fast steps.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, kissing your cheek before whispering, "can I please cum inside?"

"Shit, y-yes," you confirm, nodding quickly as you fight your hardest battle to keep your eyes open, focused and on the man that's currently grinding his tip into your sweet spot. Mingi feels like he loves you.

Mingi also feels like he's loosing his grip on reality, which is why he grabs your hips harder than before, using his strength to really slam his hips into yours with force, drowning his thoughts with the sounds of your moans. There is nothing on his mind except for you, you, you, and the primal need to make you his.

"Please," he groans, not quite sure what he's begging for, but it doesn't really matter in the end, does it? All that matters is that Mingi's ears catch the way you're begging him to cum for you, to fill you up, to please, please finish inside. He is not going to deny you that wish.

His hips stutter, his mind goes numb as he feels his muscles tighten and contract, releasing deep inside you. The feeling spreads in his body, feeling high and happy with such a forceful orgasm like this one.

Everything after is just a blur in his mind, he just remembers realizing that you didn't cum a second time, and he wouldn't be Mingi if he kept it that way. That's why he found himself back on his knees seconds after pulling out, sucking your clit back into his mouth, tasting his own release that's threatening to drip out if it wasn't for his fast fingers pumping in and out of you to push you over the edge.

It doesn't take long until you do, orgasm fueled by the lewd action of Mingi eating his own cum out of you, he assumes. Somehow, you two end up in his bed after, mostly because Mingi is a cuddler, partly because Mingi is not able to let you go yet. Or ever. Who knows.

© 2023 YUTASBELLYBUTTONPIERCING all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works.

[cuteandhughesy]

When The Seasons Change | Luke Hughes

summary: each season comes and with each one, you're falling deeper in love with your best friend. 4 + 1

11.0+k

warnings: SFW!friends to lovers | slow burn | flirting | fluff | suggestive themes | kissing | read at your own discretion

link to masterlist

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september 9th, 2015

dear diary <3

it's y/n again and today i'm feeling a bit...funny. the day started absolutely amazing! it was my best friends luke 11th birthday party! I can't believe he's 11 and in two more months i'll also be 11.

anyways :) his party was a girl boy party and we all went to the arcade that luke and I have always wanted to go to together but we couldn't because of jack and quinn's hockey.

it was a really fun day and luke loved the sidney crosby shirt I picked for him. but the reason i'm feeling funny is because of lacey patterson. lacey is in our class and was invited to the arcade as well. I thought she had a crush on matthew but the whole time she wouldn't leave luke alone. she was always around like an annoying little fly. lacey kept taking all of luke's attention away from me.

i'm feeling jealous, diary. because luke is....special. his soft curly hair and his bright eyes and when he smiles I get ladybugs in my stomach. I love my best friend and now that lacey likes him I can't help but feel angry.

how and I suppose to grow up and marry luke if lacey is in the way???!!!

one: valentine's day

"it was a disaster," you sigh loudly, pushing your way into luke's apartment as he pulls open the threshold of the door. you toss your small pink bag on his counter top and slump into a bar stool, "I mean a breakfast date? I'm not even sure why I agreed to do that with him in the first place- I barely know the guy and breakfast certainly isn't the place to get to know him."

luke slowly makes his way over to you, still rubbing the sleep out of his eye with the palm of his hand. "I shouldn't say I told you so, but," he says sleepily, pausing to grab a bowl out of the kitchen cupboard, "I told you so."

you groan, dropping your head into your hands. "I really need to listen to you more," you admit, eyes flicking upwards as you watch luke pour himself a healthy sized amount of shreddies. you hate the cereal, you think it taste like dry wheat. luke has always loved shreddies though, so you always have some at the ready. plus, it's the only cereal luke's professional athlete diet allows.

he shrugs with a cheeky smirk.

"not only did he only talk about himself and refer to me as a 'female'," you air quote the condescending title and luke shudders between spoonfuls of cereal. you continue, "but he asked me how much money I make and spilt his orange juice on me - on valentine's day of all days. I swear i'm never spending valentine's day with a man again."

luke wipes the drip of milk off his mouth with the back of his hand, sending you a questioning look, "not even me?"

"you don't count, obviously, or I wouldn't be here." you raise your brows in his direction, as if if to say duh.

luke smirks again but shoves more cereal in his mouth to try and mask it. "right, okay, guys an asshole - so you ended the awkward valentines breakfast to head here at..." he trails off, eyes finding the digital clock on his and jack's shared stove for the first time that morning. "8:56 in the morning - jesus is this guy 80?"

"I wish," you huff, "an eighty year old would probably of kept his nose out of my bank account."

luke snickers, dropping his dirty bowl in the sink.

"do something with me today?" you plead, leaning across the counter top so you can poke his muscular side. "don't let my valentines makeup go to waste."

luke tiredly glances over to you, taking note of how there's a little pink glitter sprinkled across your eyelids and how your usual lip colour was replaced with a more pink toned shade. your smile all cheesy at him and it has luke breaking out of his thoughts - blinking hard.

"how does lunch and the movies sound?" he asks after a moment of pondering. "i'm sure there's some sappy romantic movie playing."

you scoff at his tone, "hey! I love those sappy romantic movies."

"I know," he hums, leaning against the counter infront of you. "that's why I suggested it."

you place your head in your palm, looking up at your best friend fondly as he practically leans over you. "you're the best lukey," you say after a moment, a gentle smile on your face.

he shrugs and the action has his sleep shirt lifting to reveal his toned v-line and happy trail. you don't let your eyes linger, quickly darting your vision away before you turn red.

luke's expression changes briefly, and it looks like he may say something but the sound of jacks bedroom door clicking open has him stopping - eyes darting to the hallway just as his brother shuffles out.

jacks eyes find yours as you sit comfortably in his bar stool. he admits a big yawn and wide stretch before mumbling - "I should've known it was you making all this noise."

he rounds into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle to boil himself some water for his beloved morning coffee.

"ha ha," you say sarcastically.

"why the fuck does it smell like orange juice in here." jack mumbles.

"oh god," you cry out, grabbing your bag and sliding off the stool. now that luke's eyes are properly open and he's aware of his conscious, he sees how your white jeans have an orange liquid stain on the leg. luke smiles fondly as your cheeks tinge pink, brushing past him and his brother and towards the front door, "i'm going home and changing!"

luke laughs gently, following behind you. "i'll text you when i'm leaving here."

"sounds great," you breath out, a smile making its way onto your face. "wear pink," you tease him, shimming your shoulder in his direction.

"happy valentine's day," jack calls out from the kitchen. you catch sight of him shuffling his way past the door and back down the hall, a steaming mug in his hands.

you meet luke's eyes again and hes still looking at you, leaning against the door in his morning glory - plaid pyjama pants hanging low and his arms crossed to make all his muscles stretch deliciously. "happy valentine's day," luke mimics his brother in a fond whisper.

"happy valentine's day," you repeat. "i'll see you later."

"you will." luke says.

when you get back to your apartment complex, marianne, the front desk receptionist, flags you over before you can reach the elevator - her bright red lipstick and heart bobble head band instantly making you smile.

"you have a delivery," she says, pushing a massive vase full of red roses in your direction.

you're momentarily in a state of shock, staring at the bouquet of flowers dumbfounded. "are you sure they're for me?" you splutter after a moment.

marianne nods joyfully, a finger running over one of the delicate pedals. "oh yes, honey! delivery man dropped them off real early this morning."

you pluck the crisp white card from its slot, quickly opening the small envelope with slightly shaky fingers - anxiously wanting to reveal the mystery behind the roses.

just incase your breakfast date doesn't get you flowers. I hope you get all the ladybugs in your stomach today, y/n/n. happy valentine's day.

love, lukey.

two: easter

"you two seriously need to quit this," quinn's voice is a mix of bordem and amusement, eyeing you and luke. "it's every year." quinn concludes, jack nodding in silent agreement as he bites into a chocolate egg.

"quit and willingly loose to luke?" you thumb over your shoulder to the tallest hughes brother - who is standing diagonally behind you with his arms crossed. "absolutely not."

jack tries to hit you with a chocolate egg, but it misses your body - you send him an accusing glare before quinn starts again.

"guys, seriously it's just an egg hunt." he deadpans, eyes dancing between his brother and you.

"it's not just an egg hunt," luke says matter of factly. his arms fall to his sides and he steps closer to you, the fabric of his flannel brushing your exposed shoulder. "it's one of the only times I get to prove to everyone I am the superior egg finder."

competitively, you roll your eyes. luke has been using that line since one of the very first easters you had spent together.

when you were 5 years old, your family moved to your now home city and into the two story house neighbouring the hughes' home. it was almost instantly that you and luke become close - after he got over how'd you'd aimlessly follow him around and want to be near him (you liked the leafs just like him so he liked you soon after).

your parents become very close with ellen and jim and it become a tradition to spend easter together - enjoying the festive meal and activities. even now with quinn in a different country and you, jack and luke all in jersey, you would all find yourself making it home for the easter dinner and egg hunt.

which leads you into your second ever holiday spent with the hughes family - the first egg hunt you had won. luke claimed to his family after they had teased him that he let you win and was, in fact, the superior egg hunter. obviously, you couldn't let that slide and you're still battling luke in your early twenties for the title of egg hunt champion.

"you wish," you tease luke, "a superior egg hunter would of brought proper footwear to ensure they could get down and dirty." slowly, your eyes flicker to luke's feet, eyeing the crisp white air forces that were bound to get filthy.

luke scoffs, taking a step towards you. "oh trust me - i'm ready to get dirty."

"is this how kids flirt now?" jacks voice is like a nail to your eardrum and you quickly take a step away from luke, making your way to the island and grabbing your bunny shaped bucket.

"it's called smack talk," luke answers his brother sharply, also grabbing his egg basket - a bright yellow whicker bin with fuzzy chicks hot glued to the handle: he's been using it forever. "this is a competition."

"it's really not," quinn mutters, hands shoved in his jean pockets as he leans into the kitchen island.

just before you or luke could scold the eldest hughes, ellen makes her way through the back door, her pink floral maxi skirt swaying around her ankles. "you guys coming out?" she questions you all, her brows raised expectantly. "all the young kids are ready."

"oh," luke snickers, "i'm ready."

"we are all ready," you correct, eyeing your best friend briefly.

she smiles fondly, her small hands clasping together - ellen hughes would never get tired of seeing you and all her boys together on the holidays. "the eggs are all hidden - don't forget the winner gets the chocolate bunny!" she sing songs, guiding you all to the large backyard decorated in pastels and flowers.

"see," luke hums, jamming his elbow into his oldest brothers side, "told you it was a competition."

"oh my god."

after a brief speech from ellen, you were informed the oldest kids (you, luke, jack and quinn) would be searching for the blue coloured eggs and the younger kids (consisting mostly of hughes' cousins) would be searching for yellow eggs. the yellow eggs were hidden in easier spots but jim and your dad had ensured the blue eggs were in more difficult places.

10 minutes into the hunt, you've secured 6 of the possible 17 blue easter eggs. you wander further down the large property, eyes frantically searching for more to add to your collection. it isn't long before you catch a glimpse of bright blue - the small egg nestled between a few branches up in one of the trees. you're suprised you could even see it through the leaves, but the sun catches the egg once more and you're positive you're not imagining it.

with a determined head, you place your bucket on the ground near the stump of the tree before grabbing ahold of the lowest branch. you use all your strength to start hauling yourself up the tree, climbing upwards through the leaves and branches.

finally, you reach the height of the easter egg, and you smile victoriously, reaching out to grab it. at your sudden movement, the branch you had been standing on with your one foot gives out, cracking loudly until it snaps downwards. you gasp, hands reaching out to wrap around the thick trunk, watching horrified as your previous spot swings in the air.

you scan the surrounding branches, looking for the most secure one for your full weight - one that wouldn't break off under your feet. there's one behind you that looks promising, so you shift against the trunk, carefully stepping across the gap in the branches until you can fully place your feet on the new one.

you sigh once you feel secure, taking a deep breath to try and let the erratic heart beating in your chest come back to normal. miraculously through your almost plummet back to the ground, you managed to keep ahold of your egg and your gripping that damn blue thing hard, ensuring after all that trouble it wasn't going anywhere.

once your adrenaline levels return to a much more manageable level and the thumping heartbeat in your eardrums subsides, you decide you're ready to start making your journey to the ground - as safe as possible.

you let your one foot steps off, pressing down on a different branch to test its sturdiness. it seems stable enough, and you push off the trunk behind you to help push yourself onto the other branch.

your dress tugs, not allowing you to move over. you frown in confusion, trying to pull away harder. it's no luck, and your eyes close in disbelief. you try and uncomfortably stretch around yourself to catch sight of what the hell was going on and you catch a glimpse of of a sharp broken twig, completely hooked through your dress.

and of course you've left your phone behind on the kitchen island when you decided you'd have to use for it during the egg hunt. you course yourself, making another attempt at wiggling yourself off the ridged twig. it proves to be unsuccessful when you try and move onto the other branch once again and find yourself still being pulled back towards the trunk.

just as you begin to feel waves on panic bubble up your body and tears well up in your eyes, the sound of shuffling below halts your meltdown. you listen more intently, and the melodies of an all too familiar hushed whistle adding to the noise.

luke is wandering around aimlessly, whistling the megan moroney song you had showed him the week prior - clearly he has taken a liking to it as well. he's got his easter basket in his hand, swinging it slightly so his collected eggs roll around.

he is practically right under the tree you're in, and you take the opportunity before it leaves. "luke!" you call your friends name, your voice a mixture between a whisper and a yell - not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to your very uncomfortable and embarrassing position, luke would surely tease you enough to make up for everyone.

luke's whistling comes to a halt, his body coming to a stand still near the large roots of the tree that were protruding from the soil. he spins around a couple times, looking for you.

a beat passes.

"where are you?" luke questions quietly, doing another 360 of the area. he knows you can't be too far because you sounded close, but not directly beside him. his brows furrow when he can't see anything.

"in the tree - i'm stuck." you huff, eyes closing as the rush of embarrassment comes after admitting your predicament out loud. luke still looks confused and unsure, so you sigh, rustling one of the nearby branches to show him that you were in fact in a tree and not hiding in a nearby bush - planning to ambush him for his eggs.

finally luke catches on, looking up towards the thick branches wide eyed and confused. once he catches sight of you, his previous expression morphes into one of mischief and his lips tug upwards in a gooey smile. "oh! don't you look all cute up there."

you ignore his teasing with a dismissive eye roll, "come up here and help me untangle myself from this damn branch."

luke's eyes wander towards the trunk of the tree, landing on your easter basket that you'd previously abandoned in favour of climbing - your blue eggs starting at him in all their glory. luke hums, slowly looking back towards you - his eyes shimmering with a misbehaved twinkle you're all too familiar with. "nah, I think i'll just take some of these eggs and be on my way."

"lukeeeeee," you whine his name, eyes closing in annoyance- luke could really push your buttons when he wanted to.

your hands are starting to hurt from the bark under you palm, and your ridged posture from being caught by the tree is becoming uncomfortable. "come help meeeee," you whine again, "is this how you're going to treat your best friend?"

when you began to speak, luke has already put down his own easter basket, nestling it beside yours wiped his hands free of any sweat and made his way towards the tree, large fingers wrapping around the first branch as he pulls himself up. "relax, i'm coming."

you watch as he quickly climbs up the tree, resembling a spider monkey as his long limbs wrap around branches and you smile to yourself at the thought of luke as a monkey.

suddenly, you begin to feel embarrassed about your situation. you feel even sillier for getting yourself stuck on a branch, something taht could've been avoidable if you weren't so damn stubborn about a stupid egg hunt. your previous smile of relief turns sour, eyes downcast as luke finally gets to your level.

your face has luke mimicking your frown, brows drawn together as he addresses you. he reaches out for you, running a large hand over your curled hair. "hey, don't worry - you're okay."

you muster one nod in acknowledgment, taking a shaky breath.

"let's see," luke mutters between you, leaning into your personal space to attempt in getting a proper look at the damage - one of his arms wrapping around your body for stability as he peeks over your shoulder. "easy peasy," luke adjusts his body slightly, his chest brushing your bare shoulder as he fiddles with the material of your dress.

you fight off a pleasant shiver, controlling your breathing as his long fingers brush against your soft skin, tickling you in the best way. finally, you feel your dress become loose and fall back into its proper position.

you breathe in relief, your smile returning.

"ta da," luke pulls back, his own smile lighting up his face as he hovers over you. now that you're less stressed, you notice how intimate your and luke's position is. his feet's are slotted between yours in the thick branch, his one arm still around your body while his other one moves to wrap around the trunk, holding you both there - his breath fanning over your face.

"you're welcome." he teases you, snapping you out of your own head.

"thank you." you hum nonchalantly, one of your hands coming up and fixing your hair and be ridding of any stray leaves or baby twigs that may of found their way in there.

"what's my reward?" luke questions gently, head tilted as his tongues slowly darts out, licking his bottom lip.

the air turns thick with a sticky tension, making your spot in the tree feel like it suddenly was located on the sun. quickly, your eyes widen, watching the way luke begins to smirk at your flustered face.

you clear your throat, choosing to not read into any underlying meaning. "one of my easter eggs." you answer firmly, a gentle nod of confidence following suit.

he tongues his cheek. "just one?"

you nod once again, a noise of conformation falling from your lips.

luke hums, eyes not leaving yours as he says - "guess i'll just take more."

because you know your best friend all too well,before he can even attempt to descend back towards the ground, you push of the branch, quickly moving around him and scaling down the trunk. you're suprised at how quick you get to the ground and even more suprised you don't hurt yourself in the process.

just as you grab ahold the fuzzy purple bunny easter basket off the ground, you hear luke thump back onto the grass, a gentle laugh of disbelief falling from his mouth.

you turn on your heels to face him, your basket gripped in your hand as you swing it teasingly out towards him - a victorious and teasing smile on your face.

he kisses his teeth and his eyes dart towards the ground to mask his amused grin. he grabs his own easter basket before making the short distance to you.

"like promised," you say, plucking one of the shiny blue eggs from your basket. "your reward." delicately, you place the egg into luke's basket, adding to his collection of five.

almost immediately, luke grabs the egg you just gave him, placing it back into your basket. "no it's okay," he says quickly, hand raised defensively when you begin to furrow your brows. luke continues, "after all, when I win, I want it to be fair and square."

"my god," you roll your eyes fondly, the corners of your lips tugging up in a smile. "whatever helps you sleep lukey."

"I see another one!" jack yells somewhere on the property - quinn's voice following suit as he threatens to fight jack over an easter egg.

simultaneously, your and luke's eyes widen at what you're hearing.

"what's over there?" luke questions, brows furrowed as he points behind you.

you frown in confusion, spinning around to try and spots the object of luke's gaze.

he takes off, calling out some stupid insult about you being a sloth as he does. your scoff of disbelief turns into a laugh, and you begin to run.

you don't remember finding the last egg that was sitting in your basket when ellen counted all of them out - but seeing as you had the most blue eggs out of everyone, you weren't going to complain, taking your chocolate bunny prize happily.

luke watches you light up with joy when you are declared the winner for another year in a row. he finds himself smiling along, happy that when he handed you the egg back you had given him as a reward, he managed to slip one of his own back in with it- just like he does every year.

three: 4th of july

you knew that having another vodka water, adding to your borderline drunk state, wasn't the smartest idea - but you cracked open the can regardless, the sound echoing over the michigan lake.

you take a hearty sip to mask the scowl on your face. lacey laughs loudly, and your annoyance grows because yes it was the same lacey from luke's birthday party all those years ago and yes, unfortunately she was close to some of your other friends so yes she'd often hang out with the group.

this 4th of july weekend was no exception as you watch lacey continue to hang around luke and jack - your jealousy meter maxing out anytime she would lean into luke or touch his arm.

you take another sip, some of the liquid dribbling down you lip after quinn drives over one of the waves, sending trevor zegras into the air as he wakeboards behind you. quickly and rather aggressively, you wipe the spilled alcohol off your chin, eyes still pointedly glaring towards your best friend, his brother and lacey.

as if he can sense your staring, luke turns his head in your direction, quickly finding you on the bench seat. you're sitting with your back turned to wards the water and jacob truscott - who's job is attentively watching trevor as he wakeboards.

luke's initial smile with seeing you is wiped away once he sees that you're annoyed, your clear sour face making him frown. quickly, you turn your head in the opposite direction.

and because drunk you has no self control, you quickly look back in luke's direction, not lasting 5 seconds. luke is still watching you, his brows pulled together in question. just when it looks like he is going to make his way over to you, lacey grabs his wrist, lighting up as she animatedly begins to tell a story that 'he just had to hear!'

you start to become angry. not only were you feeling frustrated because lacey was not your cup of tea and jack invited her to your 4th of july celebration regardless of your feelings, but you were even more upset by the fact that luke was allowing himself to be so easily entertained by her. luke had always treated lacey normally, even though you often expressed how you weren't her biggest fan - which was okay, of course. you didn't want luke to treat her differently just because you didn't like her, but still - it had you feeling jealous.

you take a huffy breath, getting up from your seated position as careful and as stable as you could while being drunk on a moving boat. obviously, it wasn't your best or most successful idea, quinn jerking the boat for trevor's boarding quickly and it has you stumbling - right into the back of jacob.

he turns around quickly, his eyes blown wide as he takes you in. "hey, y/n, you okay?"

and just like that your brain comes up with a plan. one that though you may regret in the morning when you're sober, in your drunkenness sounds perfect - you've never thought of a better idea in your life. you smile at jacob, fluttering your lashes at him. "can I sit and watch with you?"

jacob watches as you bite you lip in question while you await his answer, eyeing him with a hazy look over your bright eyes.

he chuckles slightly, "course you can."

you smile cheerfully and you quickly start to make the small step up onto the seat platform, your small hand gripping jacob's strong shoulder to help balance yourself until you gracefully plop down beside him. as flirtatious as you can manage while being intoxicated, you run your hand from his shoulder down his arm, trying to tickle him.

jacob eyes you suspiciously, a small amused smile beginning to tug his lips upwards. you smile back, bringing your hand into your lap. "what are you up to?" jacob questions after a moment. he doesn't wait for an answer before he turns his head to look over his shoulder - right at luke.

"nothing!" you hum, laying your palm flat on his cheek and bringing his gaze back towards you.

jacob gives you a look, brows raised knowingly. he has to tongue his cheek to not laugh, your plan of trying to make luke jealous obvious. clearly you're not as inconspicuous as you thought.

you shrug once, leaning in even closer to jacob. "just wanted to sit with you is all."

he just nods, shrugging nonchalantly "whatever you say." jacob's eyes leave yours, attention back on trevor on the wakeboard. clearly jacob doesn't mind helping you out, he even lets his hand slide behind you, resting flat on the seat right near your ass - he doesn't even seem flustered at the how if he stretched his pinky out he'd be touching your butt - that kind of makes you feel at ease.

after flirting and laughing with jacob for 10 minutes, trevor's time on the wake board comes to an end, quinn slowing down the boat. in that 10 minutes you'd only managed to get in a glance towards luke three times (jacob kept you pretty entertained oddly enough), and everytime luke was wearing a neutral expression - his arms crossed and listening to lacey.

trevor removes himself from to board, breathless as he climbs onto the swim platform."did you guys see me hit that last wave?" he smiles, unzipping the life jacket wrapped around his torso.

"it was sick," ethan edwards comes up beside you, leaning on his elbows right beside your thighs to talk to trevor - drunk you honestly forget he was here. "fuck man way cooler than any waves I got - quinn must have his favourites." ethan continues, playfully side eyeing the oldest hughes brother as he makes his way over to the back of the boat.

"ha ha," quinn says sarcastically, grabbing onto the rope of the wake board paddle and pulling it towards the boat. "if I actually had favourites, trevor wouldn't be one of them."

trevor cries out and grabs his peck like quinn's words had actually reached out and stabbed him, "ouch."

quinn ignores trevor, rolling his eyes dismissively - although his lips move upwards in a small smile. "alright," he breaths, finally getting the wakeboard onto the swim platform, " who wants to go next."

looking back over your shoulder once more, you see that luke still isn't bothered enough in coming over to you - listening to some story lacey was blabbing on about to jack and dylan duke.

you hum, shooting up off the bench. you wobble slightly, ethan grabbing your ankle reflexively to try and steady you. you smile triumphantly, "i'll go." you make your way over to quinn, taking the protective life jacket from trevor's outstretched hand.

quinn looks you up and down, eyes hesitant. "you sure?"

you nod without looking at him, stepping into the boots of the board. if flirting with luke's friend wasn't working in getting his attention, hanging off the back of the boat as you zip through the water surely had to.

you clip the buckles down, the sound snapping against the boots. quinn bends down in attempt to help you get secure, but you dismiss him, dropping off of the swimming platform and into the water.

"y/n..." quinn starts, his eyes filled with doubt.

"i'm good." you take the ropes right out of quinn's hands, wrapping them once around your wrist. "let's do it."

he sighs but doesn't protest any further, leaving you alone. quinn walks off the platform, making his way back to the driver's seat.

the engine starts a few moments later, the roar making you smile slightly - adjusting the slippy rope handles as you prepare to start.

"fuck yeah, y/n!" jack calls, hands bracketed around his mouth as he cheers for you, his voice echoing over the lake.

after getting your thumbs up, quinn starts to drive, the movement of the motor vehicle slowly dragging your body towards the surface, gaining speed until the wakeboard comes to the top. jacob slaps the bench seat a few times in a cheer, him and ethan both praising and cheering you on back on the boat. your smile widens at the boys and luke's brows furrow.

the boat is going the proper speed now, and quinn starts to do circles around himself to create the desired waves - you swallow nervously as you see the first one approaching. you can feel your hands loosen on the rope again , and naturally your fingers unhook themselves in order for them to readjust. the wave hits sooner than anticipated, and you first jolt forwards quickly before being flung backwards, your feet coming out of the boots as you get launched into the water.

you push up to the surface with your shaky arms, a gasping breath leaving your lips as you take in the air.

the boat has been stopped, and there's a group of worried faces staring at you from about 10 feet away. you definitely shouldn't of dismissed quinn when he wanted to check over your buckles, and you definitely shouldn't of let your guard down when trying to re-grip the rope.

you start to leisurely swim back towards the boat, feeling much more calm now that you’re not being panicked underwater. “i’m good!” you laugh it off, approaching the platform.

jack is waiting for you, his hand outstretched in your direction. you grip it, your wet palm slapping against his calloused one as he pulls you out of the water. he says your name through a smile, “that was badass."

then you notice how luke’s there as well, looking much more stressed than his brother - eyes frantically searching you for any visible injuries. "are you okay?" he breaths.

"yes," you sigh firmly. jack finally lets you go, allowing you to stand yourself up on your own feet. as you place your left foot down fat, your ankle screams in protest and gives out on you - making you topple forwards with a yelp. "fuck."

instantly, luke is there, rushing towards you and grabbing a hold of your arms. he keeps you upright, leaning down so he can look into your eyes. “what hurts?”

"my ankle," you whine quietly, eyes moving down in embarrassment. not only were you drunk, but you were now hurt and in enough pain for your intoxication to not even be able to mask it. "it really hurts lukey." you whisper, your throat becoming thick with emotion.

"okay, okay," luke wraps an arm around your waist, putting all of your weight onto him as he helps you off of the swimming platform and onto the carpeted area of the boat. you wince quietly in the short time it takes to get to the front of the boat - away from prying eyes that would only have you feeling even more embarrassed.

"sit down." luke tells you sternly, helping in lowering you to the seat. tears are desperately wanting to escape, the entire day of events weighing heavy on your chest.

luke turns away from you, reaching into the blue drink cooler - digging through the ice and cans of seltzers until he finds a plastic water bottle. he grabs it, walking back towards you with an unreadable expression, sitting across from you.

"i'm cold." you say as soon as luke sits down. you can’t decide if you’re cold because your wet and the sun is starting to set or if it’s because luke’s knees keep brushing yours, igniting goosebumps.

your emotions come to a head, and a tear finally falls, trailing down the round of your sunkissed cheek.

"let's take off the lifejacket, okay?" he reaches towards you, unzipping the wet jacket. your boobs definitely spill out of your bikini top in a way that is probably unflattering, no longer pushed against you by the life jacket. “give it back incase somebody else wants a turn.” luke grabs dylan dukes abandoned towel, wrapping the fluffy cover around your shoulders.

his teasing gives right over your head.

"okay," luke sighs quietly, tapping his two fingers against your thigh."let me see your ankle, put it on my leg."

you do as he says, bringing your leg up and over so you can comfortably have your knee bent and foot laying flat on luke's muscular thigh - his leg hairs tickling your painted toes.

softly, luke uses the water bottle he'd earlier grabbed as a temporary ice pack, pressing it to your ankle bone. the coolness feels nice, and it already is helping the pain.

your mood turns even more unpleasant when you her lacey's high pitched laugh echo around you - assaulting your water logged ear drums. you keep your eyes downcast, fingers wordlessly fiddling with a loose strand on the beach towel.

you sniffle, "wouldn't you rather be with lacey?" your jealously is definitely showing, but you're too irritated with the days events to be civil. lacey, combined with hurting your ankle and having luke practically ignoring you all day has your filter disappearing.

one of luke's long fingers slowly starts running along the back of your calf. "nah." he says gently. you can feel his eyes on you, but you're still not sure if you can handle looking into his eyes in the state your in.

your brows raise in suprise, and your disbelief is still prevalent in your tone. "really? she sure gives you a lot of attention."

luke shrugs once. "you're hurt. you take priority."

his answer has you scoffing slightly, and you tug harder on the loose towel thread. "only because i'm hurt?" finally, you look back towards him, eyes pinched with irritation at his answer.

in all seriousness, luke looks at you. his lips almost tug down in a frown, and his eyes begin to soften at your red cheeks and glazed eyes. "no. you always are my priority."

now you feel embarrassed. although lacey is more outgoing and flirty than you are, you are luke's best friend - not her. quickly, your hand comes up to wipe away any fallen tears, "sorry." you mumble.

luke dismisses your apology, tapping your heel twice around the cold water bottle he was still pressing against you. he eyes your somber expression again, and kisses his teeth.

your eye him as he scoots closer towards you. "can I tell you something?"

you nod, naturally finding yourself leaning in as well.

luke's lips begin to turn upwards. "watching you flirt and spend time with jacob today...It made me feel kind of jealous."

you feel your heart come to a hard stop and then speed up again - beating frantically at luke's confession. you're sure your mouth is opening and closing like a fish, but you're too baffled to say anything.

he continues quietly, "because, you know, he was taking my best friends attention away from me."

you deflate.

luke shrugs, "and I know that's hypocritical because I was kind of being a dick today but still...jacob doesn't deserve your attention - neither do I honestly but-"

you shake your head, bumping the leg that wasn't resting on his thigh against luke's knee, stopping his rambling. he's still your luke, no matter what. he's awkward and sweet and....yours.

"you're the only one I really want to give my attention to, lukey."

he smiles gently, "really?"

"yeah - i'm drunk," you remind him, "I can't lie even if I want to." you both laugh at your half slurred confession, leaning into each other as you do so.

as quinn pulls the boat back towards the dock of the hughes summer house, you can't even remember why you'd been annoyed with luke in the first place - too focused on him nursing your ankle and his soft smile.

four: fall festivities

"jello shot?" you ask through an exhale, a bright smile on your face. you gesture the small serving tray full of colourful desert towards the two girls in front of you. thankfully, they smile back, happily taking the alcohol from you.

you nod in parting before picking up your pace once more, gripping the tray harder as you practically jog around your condo - determined to serve everybody.

when luke had mentioned jack offered to host the annual new jersey devils halloween party, he told you that him and his brother were worried about the limited space in their apartment and were unsure of how they were going to make it work. seeing your best friend in a predicament had you immediately offering your place to throw it.

not only was your space bigger, but your only neighbour was a wealthy businessman who was never home, so there would be no noise complaints and no issues with fitting the devils roster in for a halloween themed party. obviously your offer had nothing to do with being totally into your best friend and going to any extreme to see him happy - obviously.

there was a few more people attending than you were initially expecting to show up - which mostly consist of the wives and girlfriends of the team, but still, you hadn't factored that in. the added people had your hosting skills dialled up to an 11, and you can't remember the last time you had sat down or properly mingled with anybody - too busy making sure everything was stocked.

you squeeze through a group of laughing girls you don't recognize, and you whisper your apologies as you move through them. "jell-o shot?" you question, approaching dougie, dawson and john near the fireplace.

"oh hey," john greets you, dressed like a minion. "you look like you're having a great time." john laughs and they all reach out to take a halloween coloured shot cup off your tray.

"I am if you are," you smile politely, his teasing remark flying over your head - you're too tired and stressed to digest his words properly.

you're definitely not having a great time. your hand is cramping around the orange and purple striped serving tray, your fake eyelashes are stabbing you, your legs are killing you, and don't even start on how your faux fur coat has you sweating profusely.

"cruella, right?" dawson is the one to question you, gesturing to your halloween costume - a simple black dress paired with a spotted coat, red gloves, pearls and the wig of course.

you nod, "in the flesh."

"y/n!" you hear jack call your name loudly from the opposite end of your condo, his hands clasped around his mouth as he shouts for you. "we need more punch."

you sigh gently, throwing your hand in the air blindly to give the middle hughes a thumbs up - a conformation that you heard him and you'd make another bowl.

"sorry, would you guys excuse me - duty calls." you manage to give a laugh towards the three devil players, all dressed in contradicting costumes, spinning on your heels and speed walking away.

you push through the swinging door that leads to your kitchen, half empty tray of jell-o shots and the glass punch bowl you grabbed on the way balanced in your hands. thankfully nobody was in your kitchen, and the sight of emptiness has you breathing in relief.

you loved having everyone at your place and you especially loved how everyone felt comfortable in dressing up and allowing you, jack and luke to host - but you couldn't wait for the night to be over. you always underestimated the hassle of hosting, and this night is proving that.

you fan your warm face with a gloved hand, trying to cool yourself off. your free hand is pouring some koolaid mix into the empty punch bowl, the powered crystals becoming liquid as they touch the orange juice and sprite concoction.

the door creaks, alerting you as somebody enters your once quiet kitchen. your shoulders deflate naturally, and your already preparing for another task or hosting duty that you'd have to attend to.

you look over your shoulder and are met with the comforting gaze of your best friend. luke smiles softly at you, which makes him look extra cute in his dalmatian outfit. "hey," luke starts, making his way over you, "I haven't seen you all night. you okay?"

the relief floods through your body, but a different wave of emotion quickly replaces any prior ones. you feel yourself wanting to cry, because no, you're not doing okay. "i'm stressed, lukey, i'm sorry. I love hosting but my costume is so hot that i feel permanently wet from how much i've been sweating. my body hurts and i'm tired and I feel like the list of things I need to do is endless and-" you exhale, dropping the wooden mixing spoon to the counter. "respectfully I can't wait for it to end."

luke frowns, reaching you in two long strides. "don't apologize for feeling overwhelmed." he shrugs, glancing over his shoulder quickly, "it's definitely more people than I expected."

you sniffle, laughing gently as you nod in agreement. "definitely."

he smiles softly, and like he's done a million times before, luke gently reaches out, his thumb swiping under your eye to brush any fallen tears. "let's head up to the roof for a bit," he hums, a slight frown tugging his lips, "get some air."

you exhale shakily. "jack needs the punch though."

"fuck him and fuck the punch," luke tells you sternly, "they can survive without it for a little bit, okay?"

"okay," you whisper in agreement.

you live on the top floor of your condo, so the journey to the buildings rooftop wasn't long. luke leads you up the small flight of stairs and out onto the decorated deck like he's done many times, guiding you over to your and his claimed spot.

immediately, you fall back dramatically into the lounger, eyes meeting the starry night sky above. you can feel like you can breath properly, and the only noise you can hear is the city below.

luke smiles at your now closed eyes and starfish pose, making his way over to his favourite green lounger beside you, mimicking your laying down position. he tucks his arm behind his head, using his own forearm as a pillow as he looks at the stars.

a beat passes.

"i'm sorry you're stressed." luke tells you quietly.

you open your eyes, turning your head towards him. luke is already watching you, eyes guilty and frown present.

you shake your head at him, dismissing his apology. after all, he didn't do anything wrong. "it's fine, luke, really."

"I just don't like seeing you struggling," he admits.

"if anything," you start sincerely, "you've made my night 100 times better in like the 5 minutes i've spent with you - which by the way, is crazy, how is this the first time since you got here that we've hung out."

"I know," luke smiles, "i've missed you."

you eye him teasingly, a pout forming on your face. "did my little dalmatian miss his master?" you question in an animated baby voice, one of your hands reaching out to poke his ribs.

luke jolts away from your jab, pulling a disgusted face in favour of your baby voice. regardless of his expression, he was laughing at your question. "you're a weirdo."

"yeah but i'm your favourite weirdo," you say matter of factly, turning your entire body towards him on top of your blue coloured lounger.

luke smirks, "you're definitely top 10."

"top 10?" you screech with a laugh, "not even top 5....I really gotta up my game. who's my competition?"

luke kisses his teeth, in a deep faux thought as he hums. "well, obviously borat is up there."

"obviously," you repeat.

"and my friend y/n is up there too - she's the weirdest one of all." luke sends you another teasing glance, "instead of being normal and saying 'butterflies in my stomach', she calls them ladybirds like a grandma and she eats ranch with almost everything."

you smile, "she sounds hot."

luke tongues his cheek, eyes finding the stars again. another beat passes, the two of you enjoying each others company in silence of city nightlife.

the crinkling of a bag has your brows furrowing, glancing back at luke just as he pulls out a half empty bag of cheeto's. "hungry?" he asks you, holding out the open bag in your direction.

you grab a handful of cheesy sticks, "I didn't even know your onesie had pockets." you tell him with a snicker, plopping two cheetos into your mouth.

"this dalmatian is full of surprises," luke says between chews of the monster handful of chips he'd previously shoved in his mouth.

you snort, grabbing another handful. "of course he is." you're thankful that luke had miraculously snuck cheetos from the party out to the roof, because you think the last time you ate was breakfast. your stomach rumbles at the thought. you swear, your best friend knows you better than you know yourself. "I should've known you'd bring snacks."

luke eyes you with faux suspicion, sucking his thumb clean of cheese dust. "are you calling me fat?"

"luke," you laugh, head lolling away from him and his teasing comments. "you're insufferable."

a heavy drop of water hits your face, starling you. another one follows quickly after, hitting the round of your cheek before sliding down to your ear.

"what the hell," luke mumbles. you eye him quickly, watching as he wipes the few drops of rain off his face. "is that rain?"

you roll your eyes gently, "yes, luke, it's rain."

at your words, the water seems to unleash from the gray night clouds, a thick downfall of rain pouring over you and luke. you sit up quickly, squinting towards the sky. your faux fur coat is quickly becoming drenched, sticking to your skin uncomfortably. "let's go before my lashes fall off." you sigh gently - the thought of heading back into the hectic environment of your condo sounded anything but desirable.

as if luke can sense your hesitation, he gets to his feet quickly, stepping into your line of sight. the dog ears on his onesie are dripping with water, flopping pathetically as he looks at you. he wipes his face of rain, "not yet - let's just stay."

you sigh his name, "it's raining."

"so?" he shrugs, costume sagging down his body, heavy with rain.

"so," you breathe an amused laugh, "we will get wet."

"nothing wrong with a little bit of water," you can see luke smirk through the heavy rain, and you can't help your own lips from tugging upwards at the sight.

you exhale gently, "I don't know."

luke dismisses your hesitation, grabbing a hold of your soaked gloved hands and pulling you towards him, bringing you both farther out the roof deck. "just one dance before we go back to the party - I haven't gotten to dance with you allllll night."

you let him drag you wordlessly, giving him a deadpanned looked.

"plus you deserve a dance - my hard working host." luke adds cheekily. his one hand slides around your waist, pulling you against his front - swaying you to imaginary music gently.

"kiss ass," you mumble, voice just notable over the sound of rain pelting the concrete rooftop. you can feel luke's chest rumble with laughter, his fingers flexing around your hand. "you always dance without music hughes?"

he licks his teeth, looking down at you. your skin looks so soft and dewy from the rain, your eyes dilated from the dark atmosphere. you are blinking up at him gently, your eyelashes wet in a way that makes you look even more beautiful. luke clears his throat, spinning you around dramatically - just barley stopping himself from slipping on the slick ground in the process. "only with you."

luke pulls away from you quickly, but you don't have time to question him before his grip on your hand tightens and he's twirling you back into him. you screech gently, the movement taking you by surprise.

"so you only dance with me or you dance with others but they get the privilege of dancing with music?" you ask him teasingly - this time it's you who is twirling luke around, and the sight of your 6ft2 best friend spinning in a soaked dalmatian onesie was unbeatable.

luke comes back towards you, taking his original position with his strong forearm around your torso, interlocking your fingers together in a waltz like stance. "I only dance with you," he whispers through the rain, "and you're the only one i'll ever dance with - especially in the cold rain without music." he tries to tease you, but his words fall on deaf ears.

you're looking at him with a swirl of emotion in your eyes and your heart beating heavily against your rib cage.

luke seems to stop as well, looking down at you with just as much admiration and tenderness that you're surely showing him. he visibly swallows, his adam's apple bobbing against his throat.

you watch luke's eyes fall to your lips, swiping over them before finding your eyes once again. at first you think you imagine it, but then quickly his eyes dart back to your red lips and the ladybirds start going frantic in your stomach.

was luke about to kiss you?

your blinks start to slow naturally, preparing to shut fully as luke begins to inch in closer to your face, leaning over you in a way that most definitely was uncomfortably straining the muscles in his back.

the door to the rooftop swings open with a squeak before bagging against the wall loudly - echoing all around. startled, you and luke jump away from one another, breathing heavily as your adrenaline comes to a spike.

your body feels freezing without luke's pressed against it, and you shiver uncomfortably, wrapping your soaked fur coat around yourself further.

jack is eyeing you both through the october rain, "hey," he starts, adjusting the plastic firefighter helmet onto his outgrown head of hair. "i've been looking for you guys! y/n we're out of chip dip."

you start walking towards the middle hughes sibling. "sorry, i'll get the other one out the fridge." you sigh, brushing past him and back into the dry hallway of your building.

luke closes his eyes, exhaling loudly.

"you good?" jack asks once luke makes his way over, eyeing his brother suspiciously. "what where you two even doing out here - it's raining."

luke sends his brother a glare, "I know that," he walks back into the building,wiping his face clean of all lingering rain water. "you're so annoying." he quickly walks away from his older brother, leaving him by the door.

jack throws his hands up, "what did I do?"

+ one: christmas

sabrina carpenter's heavenly voice slinks through the warm home, nestling in your ears comfortably. just over the music, you hear ellen hughes laugh happily at something your mom says - both of them in the kitchen, chatting and finishing off a bottle of wine while they clean up the dinner dishes.

jim and your father have been watching hockey tapes in the den, both quiet and content by themselves - them too indulging in a festive spiced wine.

it was christmas eve, after all.

you laugh warmly as quinn dips you low to the ground before pulling you back upwards quickly, sending a quick dizzy wave over you - which is probably the alcohols fault, not quinn's.

jack applauds quinn's elaborate dance moves, smiling with flushed cheeks as he watches you both from his spot sprawled on the worn brown love seat. "where'd you learn to dance like that huggy?" the middle hughes brother questions after a sip of beer, brows raised inquisitively.

quinn doesn't answer and he only spins you on the spot. you hum, "you jealous jack?" your body faces quinn once more, and your momentum has you stumbling slightly, tripping over your own feet and bumping into your dance partner.

"i'm not jealous of anything," jack snickers to himself like he's in on some crazy secret you aren't aware of - but you don't have the mental capacity to unfold that, still laughing and dancing on your family homes shaggy rug.

"yeah yeah whatever," quinn dismisses his brother teasing, rolling his eyes so only you catch it. you giggle at the sight, head falling onto his shoulder as you do.

the stairs creek under somebodies weight, and a moment later luke walks back into the family room empty handed, meeting your eyes. "I can't find it." he tells you.

you leave quinn, which was expected, turning your body and attention towards the youngest brother. "well where did you look?"

after your christmas dinner, ellen and your mom had started going on about childhood memories in their typical sappy mom fashion - laughing and crying while you and the boys eyed them with amusement. your mom was the one who brought up the scrapbook you and luke made together after your shared trip to the zoo on your 11th birthday, which was something even you had forgotten about.

jack had immediately starting pestering and teasing the two of you for being quote on quote cheesy (even though you were kids so obviously you were cheesy - but you digress.) jack begged for you to get the scrapbook so he could see it, and then once he started, quinn claimed he had never seen it and also wanted to look.

"i mean," you had started gently, eyeing luke with a hesitant smile, "it would be nice for us all to look at."

one look at your flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, luke was sighing, pushing off the couch. "where is it?"

luke thumbs over his shoulder, "the hallway closet."

"really?" you hum, deep in thought as you think about where else your beloved shared scrapbook could possibly be hiding. "I mean, we could check my old bedroom closet? sometimes mom keeps stuff in there."

jack groans dramatically from the couch, head lulling back. "hurry up and go find it! I need to see that picture of the giraffe licking y/n's face."

quinn and jack crack up just at the thought of the picture you'd told them about - the image captured you shrieking as the giraffes purple tongue slides up your cheek.

"you whiny baby - we're going!" you huff, walking towards the stairs with luke in tow, both of you making the journey up the creaky staircase.

your room is located at the end of the hall, still painted the sage green you had chosen when you and your family first moved in. you dodge your suitcase that you left in the middle of the room, all of your clothes sprawled across the cream carpet from when you were frantically searching for your christmas sweater this morning.

"holy shit," luke says from behind you, eyes wide as he looks around your childhood room, "I haven't been in this room since like....highschool."

you open your closet doors with a small laugh, amused at your best friends amusement. you start rifling through the millions of photo albums and frames that your mom did fill your closet with - like you expected.

"oh my god, we were so little." luke smiles, picking up your lady bug decorated picture frame that was sitting on your tall dresser - right beside you original speak now CD and jewelry box. you turn to glance at him over your shoulder, smiling automatically at the sight of him looking at the picture. "god where are my front teeth?" he laughs, placing the frame back down.

it's a picture of you and luke when you were both 10, smiling happily poolside in your bathing suits - luke's akward grin made perfect by his lack of front teeth. you giggle with him, the memory of that picture just as fresh now as the day it was taken.

you rifled through a few more old photo albums until your fingers land on the tiger striped spine of your and luke's scrapbook. you gasp, "I found it!" you pull it out of the closet quickly, standing from your previously crouched position to once again face luke. you start flipping through the pages, giggling at the pictures as you do so. "this is amazing."

"dear diary," luke says with a laugh. you look up inquisitively, a quirk to your brow. he's got your fuzzy purple notebook clutched in his hand, flipped open to a random page. "it's y/n again and today i'm feeling a bit...funny." he reads your entry out loud, an amused smile on his face.

"oh god," you laugh, a hand covering your face in embarrassment- already cringing at your younger self.

luke's eyes light up as he reads the next line, laughing as he does so. "the day started absolutely amazing! it was my best friend luke's 11th birthday party! I can't believe he's 11 and in two more months i'll also be 11." he quotes you, "you were such an optimistic happy kid." he laughs.

your heart stops and you can feel your face fall. memories of the day you had wrote that specific diary entry come flooding back to you. you pale and your stomach plummets unpleasantly - you half a bottle of wine taunting you. "luke - give me the diary."

he's still laughing to himself, book propped open with a thumb and middle finger. he continues reading, "we all went to the arcade that luke and I have always wanted to go to together." he quotes you. he pauses, thinking back to that huge indoor party, "it was a sick arcade." luke hums.

you step towards him, "luke seriously lets go...jack and quinn are waiting." you're suprised at how fast your brain came up with an excuse to leave your room and the diary behind - your anxiety through the roof.

he couldn't fishing reading it.

he skims farther down the page, laughing loudly, quoting your writing more. "she was always around like an annoying little fly. lacey kept taking all of luke's attention away from me - you still sound like this by the way."

you try and lunge towards him and grab the diary, but luke is quicker than you (he always has been) and pulls the book farther out of reach. "i'm feeling jealous, diary. because luke is....special - you're too kind to me," he teases you.

"luke," you huff, hands trying to reach around him to grab the book once again, but he spins away, affectively dodging you once more. "please put that away"

luke continues to read the diary entry, your stomach plummeting deeper. "his soft curly hair and his bright eyes-"

"give that to me now." you panic, voice shaky as you beg. you make another attempt at getting your diary out of luke's hands, but he rushes towards the other side of the room, giggling at the writing of child you complimenting him.

luke starts again, "and when he smiles I get ladybugs in my stomach. I love -" he stops reading, face falling. you watch intently as luke's eyes dance over the rest of the lines on the page, reading your 11 year old self's love confession.

you're already thinking of excuses for the entry - you were just a kid and didn't know what love meant or what marriage meant. but you weren't 5 when you wrote it, you were almost a pre-teen who definitely knew what marriage was. that won't work.

you'd could say that lacey was just having you feeling weird and angry - like she always has, but that excuse doesn't seem plausible.

you watch luke anxiously and silently, knawing on your lip as a way to channel your nerves. you were already preparing for your friendship to plummet. now that luke has read your deepest darkest secret - the life long crush you've had on him - you were ready for him to not want to be your friend anymore.

logically, you know you should say something and at least try and convince him that it was nothing - after all it was almost a decade ago and you could play it off as a joke. but words don't come out, and you're stuck in a plummeting hole.

"wow," luke eventually mutters, closing your diary gently.

"luke," you whisper waterly, eyes following him as he walks your diary back over to your dresser, tucking it between taylor swift and framed pictures. you think you might start praying, desperate for luke to want to stay your friend or at least stay in your life - you can't imagine living without him.

"be honest with me," luke starts, "was this just a silly little crush or do you still...love me?"

you mumble his name again, eyes watering with a million emotions that you definitely weren't expecting to experience on christmas eve.

"y/n....tell me."

you meet his eyes, and all you can mutter is a quiet 'I still do', a tear falling down your face and dipping towards your collarbone.

a beat passes.

"well this is pretty embarrassing, right?" he says with a gentle laugh, running a hand over his head of curls in disbelief.

"what?" you mumble.

"I mean over a decade of loving each other in secret, neither of us ballsy enough to say anything- I wonder how many people knew." he laughs to himself, visibly thinking.

you shake your head, "wait what?"

luke steps towards you, closing the space between your bodies in favour of holding the side of your face, his thumb wiping away the trail of water from your tear, resting against your cheekbone affectionately. "I love you."

"you do?"

he nods, "of course I do, wanna read my endless texts from quinn and jack telling me to man up and confess my lifelong crush on you to prove it?" he challenges you teasingly, a playful tone accompanied by a tinge of nerves.

finally, you smile, lips tugging upwards as you reach out for him, your small hand gripping his wrist to keep him close to you. you shake your head, "no, I believe you."

luke laughs breathily, forehead touching yours as he brings your faces closer together. "thank god because those texts are embarrassing." his words are like a million tiny kisses, tickling your face in a way that has your nose scrunching.

"and you reading my diary wasn't?" you question with laughter.

"god no," luke dismisses, "it was cute."

"kiss ass," you smile, running the tip of your nose down the bridge of luke's, nudging your faces closer together. your other hand reaches for his waist, keeping him close.

"yeah." he agrees, free hand moving up to hold the other side of your face. luke smirks one more time before leaning in, finally kissing you.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[captain-hawks]

oh well... I mean... how about oliver x snowed in? do we manage not to punch him in the face by the end of it?

over easy 🎀 oliver aiku x f!reader

In which domesticity creeps into the all the cracks in you and Oliver's casual arrangement as you find yourself snowed in at his apartment.

1.4k — fluff, soft oliver, fwb, mentions of sex

It’s no good for your stupid, reckless heart—this predicament.

“Over easy? And two sugars in your coffee, right?” Oliver’s voice calls out from the kitchen.

It’s so fucking domestic, the way he says it. 

Like you’re not just some girl he fucks into his king size mattress in the middle of the night twice a week.

Like you’re not just going on your third morning of being stranded at his apartment because your car’s buried under several feet of snow that just keeps on coming down.

Like it’s okay that your heart fumbles meekly behind the confines of your ribcage whenever he tugs you back into his bed to stay the night. 

(That beats so hard it aches when he spins you around to kiss you in the doorway on your way out.)

You’re not dating.

You can’t date him.

Oliver doesn’t date.

But he’s handsome and charming and polite and funny and the sex is so good that you’ve never come so hard in your life and—

There’s no fucking Oliver out of your system unless it’s with Oliver himself.

And if you have some inconvenient feelings dangling on the sidelines, that’s your cross to bear on your own time when he’s not fucking you stupid in the backseat of his car or eating you out on his kitchen counter.

You don’t ask Oliver what he does on nights that he’s not with you. And you tell yourself it’s because it’s none of your goddamn business, not because you know his answer would probably hurt you too much to hear.

You assume, anyway.

But now it’s Christmas Eve, and you’ve lost any and all hope of digging your car out by tomorrow for your family dinner—not that you really wanted to go to that, anyway. 

And Oliver’s humming a Christmas song under his breath while he makes you breakfast, while you stand in his living room wearing nothing but one of his practice jerseys while perusing his bookshelf. 

It feels dangerously, terribly, awfully domestic.

And part of you thinks you’d be better off trudging across town home on foot than bearing the full weight of this walk of shame when the snow melts.

You’ve spent hours on his couch over the past few days, and he can’t seem to stop touching you. He scoots closer if you sit down too far away, places a hand on your ankle if it’s in reach, tucks your feet under his thigh. He puts his head in your lap or tugs yours down into his when you start yawning. He plays with your hair and your fingers—

And the two of you have been making your way through your favorite show, one that he’s never seen, one that you didn’t even think he would like. But it was his idea.

You even went down to his apartment building’s gym last night—something which didn’t feel strange in and of itself until Oliver kept appearing out of nowhere any time a guy tried to strike up a conversation with you, going so far as outright making out with you while you were on one of the stationary bikes. 

(The two of you barely made it through the door back up in his apartment before he was fucking you right there on the floor in the entryway.)

And you’ve yet to examine the feeling that stirred in your gut when you found oat milk in his fridge, knowing full well he doesn’t drink it. 

“Oh yeah, almost forgot to tell you. That’s for you, I picked it up the other day. I know you hate using regular milk in your coffee.”

—and the bag of mini dark chocolate bars you spotted in his cabinet last night.

“Yeah, yeah, you were right. Dark chocolate’s better.”

—and the brand-new, full-size bottle of your body wash that was staring you in the face when the two of you climbed into his shower the first morning, a mirror to the tiny travel bottle that you’ve taken to keeping in your purse for accidental sleepovers.

“It doesn’t make sense for you to have to carry soap around in your purse—”

You hadn’t even realized he knew you did that.

And yet now, as your eyes stray to the Christmas tree that sits in the corner of his living room between two large windows that overlook the city below, it’s the sight beneath it that promises to be your undoing.

Nestled between several gifts addressed to his parents and sisters is a box wrapped in gold paper with a blue bow on it. Your name is written carefully in his handwriting on the white tag stuck to the top of it. 

Your heart catches in your throat.

—and oh god you’re going to kick his ass if it’s some stupidly expensive piece of jewelry that he probably didn’t even pick out himself in there, one that’ll make you feel like you’re his even if you’re really not.

And you didn’t even get him anything because this is fucking casual—

“Wanna open it now?” You jump as Oliver’s voice comes up beside you, his chest against your back while he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s not Christmas yet,” you stall, your noses brushing when you turn to look at him, but he spins you back toward the tree. 

“Yeah, I’m too impatient though,” he sighs, his breath hot against the shell of your ear as he reaches past you, arms hugging your sides while he places the package in your hands.

It’s oblong and light.

You’re glad, if nothing else, that he’s not directly facing you to see your uneasy facial expression. Slowly, with the tip of your finger, you begin to peel back the wrapping paper.

White bristles and bright green plastic greet you beneath it.

A toothbrush.

“Be my girlfriend,” Oliver whispers, nose brushing against your cheek. 

You choke out a laugh as your heart swoops. “You got me a toothbrush?”

Girlfriend.

“You would have thought jewelry was a tacky way to ask,” he hums, kissing the corner of your mouth.

You tilt your face into the kiss, murmuring against his mouth, “I didn’t get you anything.”

You almost did.

Several times, actually.

But nothing screams casual hookup gone rogue like a fucking Christmas present—and that was the last thing you wanted him to think.

And yet—

Oliver shrugs, spinning you around and cupping your face, the toothbrush still clutched in your hands. “You’re my gift.”

There’s no hiding the ridiculous smile that creeps across your face as he kisses you, tugging you with him as he walks backward into the couch, pulling you into his lap.

His lips are warm and soft as his mouth engulfs yours, kissing you in a way that you know now is far too familiar to be casual. Far too easy and gentle and intimate as he cups the back of your head and feathers a thumb against your hip bone and nips your bottom lip and laughs and—

He stops kissing you and looks at you seriously. “Oh, I also got you that dough mixer you kept looking at videos of when we were laying in bed that one night, but it’s going to be late because of the storm. I don’t want you to think I actually only got you a toothbrush.”

You blink at him.

“Oliver!”

He grins. “What?”

“I’m leaving right now to get you a gift,” you grouse, trying to hop out of his lap.

The room spins as he lifts you up, and you find yourself caged in beneath him on the couch.

“We’re snowed in,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“I’ll walk,” you frown.

“Nope,” he counters, hands sliding to pin your wrists above your head. “I’ve got the perfect gift already. Have you met my girlfriend yet?”

He reaches down into his pocket to pull out his phone, and you’re met with a photo of you laughing that you hadn’t even realized he took.

And it’s his wallpaper, for fuck’s sake.

Girlfriend.

“She’s beautiful,” he murmurs as he puts down his phone and cups your face, lips brushing against yours. “And smart.” Kiss. “And funny.” Kiss. “And—”

“I didn’t say yes.” 

Oliver stills, blinking several times as he looks down at you with a serious expression.

You roll your eyes as you thread your fingers in his hair and tug his mouth back down against yours.

“Yes.”

A pleased sound of satisfaction rumbles in his throat as his mouth skirts away from your lips, leaving a chaotic, hot, messy trail of kisses across your face, down your neck, across your collarbone—

The smoke alarm goes off somewhere in the kitchen.

[mywritersmind]

SAVIOR - LN4

pt.2

summary : Y/n’s favorite place has quickly become her and Lando’s shared hallway. They grow closer and finally make it to the fresh air.

OG SUMMARY (When y/n’s absent neighbor shows up, causing her great annoyance with smoke and repetitive beeping, she marches over to tell the man off but is met with a handsome face and strong hands that are in distress.)

listen up : no warnings!! y/n is clueless abt f1. lando is silly. i’m craving strawberries now.

word count : 1878

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I haul my five grocery bags into the elevator, struggling to keep them all off the ground. I sigh when I finally still in the metal box, i’ve carried these at least two blocks and one had broken on the way.

The doors are about to close but a hand slides in between them, making them automatically open for him.

Hello my hot mysterious neighbor.

He looks relieved he made it, “Y/n!” He says cheerfully, like we’ve known each other for ages. It’s been a couple weeks since I slammed on his door and stomped through his kitchen.

The other side of the hallway had been quiet until last night when I heard keys rattling and the door opening. I can’t help but wonder what he does that keeps him from home so often.

“Lando, Hi!” I smile back as he slides beside me and presses our floor.

“You need help?” He eyes the bags as I bite my lip, not wanting to bother him. I don’t have the time to respond because he takes three bags out of my hands like it’s nothing.

“Thank you.” I sigh, “I’ve been struggling for like two blocks.” He laughs a bit with me as the numbers get higher and higher.

“I’m happy to help.” We finally reach our floor, Lando watches me go first and walk to my door, unlocking it and walking in.

Lando follows hesitantly, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed.

“Thank you again! I put myself in a bit of a bind when I decided that my friends need fifteen types of salami and cheese.” I place the bags on the counter, Lando following.

I push back my hair and suddenly wish I had cleaned up a bit more. My friends are coming over tonight and I had decided to push back my cleaning. Looking around at the clothes and old popcorn bowls scattered around makes me want to slap myself.

“Really, I like to lend a hand! I never get to be neighborly.” He shrugs.

“What do you do for work? If you don’t mind me asking?” I start placing the cold items in the freezer.

He leans against the counter, his arms holding him up and looking alarmingly fit, “Uh… You ever follow Formula 1?”

I nod, “Kinda? I used to love it!” My mom and I would watch every sunday but I stopped in college so I don’t know any of the current grid, “So you work in the sport! That’s cool, pretty hands on?” I ask as he laughs a bit, looking awkward.

“Yeah, I work with the cars.” He looks around my place a bit, “So, why does one need this much food? I’m judging or anything it’s just… You don’t seem like the type to need a jumbo sized pretzel bag.”

I smile and snatch the bag from him, “I could definitely eat all of this by the way! But I'm having a bit of a party tonight. If anything’s too loud just let me know! It’s just old friends from college- actually.” I look up at him, a boost of confidence appearing in me, “You could join us. If you’re not busy.”

It suddenly sounds like a ridiculously stupid idea. I turn back to the fridge, placing a bottle of lemonade in it and cringing.

“I would love to.” I let out a sigh of relief, “But I've got plans…” I frown and turn back to him, finally putting away the last of my groceries.

“Aw.”

“It’s really nice of you to invite me.” I smile, a bit sad and confused why I'm disappointed. I mean I barely know the man. “What do you do for work?”

I lean against the counter so I'm across from him, “I’m a writer. Journalism right now but I really want to take a more bookish route…”

He genuinely looks so intrigued, more interested than anyone else who I've told I write articles about neighborhood drama.

He checks his watch, which I'm now realizing is incredibly expensive, and swears, “I gotta go. Have fun with your party tonight.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I definitely do have fun. My friends and I eat, drink, and play board games just like we’re back in dorms. I’m seeing my last and closest friend off when Lando comes up the hallway, As my friend's eyes go wide when she sees him, I shake my head.

“Goodbye!” I push her out of my apartment, “Love you!”

“Yeah love you too! Text me!” She walks past Lando, nodding at him before she turns behind his back and mouths ‘he’s hot’.

I roll my eyes at her, a smile still on my face as Lando looks at me. He’s in a full suit, holding his blazer in his hand.

“Fun time then?” God he’s hot!

“Absolutely!” I giggle, a bit tipsy, “How about you then?” I eye his suit.

“As good as I could make it.”

I slap my hand over my mouth, “God you aren’t coming from a funeral then, are you?”

He laughs at this, “No! No. A work banquet thing.”

I giggle a bit as he turns to his door, “Hey!” I say without thinking, “Would you want to come in? I have wine.”

He’s sitting on my couch thirty minutes later, a glass deep and talking about where he’s traveled too.

“That’s my dream!” I say, my feet tucked under myself as I tilt my head on the couch cushions, “Traveling. I mean- You’ve been everywhere!”

He shrugs, sipping his wine, his tie undone and shoes off, “It’s amazing but I'm not there for long so I don’t usually get to sightsee much. Honestly the most interesting thing that’s happened to me recently is this pretty girl came to save my baking disaster.”

I hum to his words, blushing a bit, “Sounds like a hero if i’ve ever heard one.” We both go silent, taking pieces of my leftover charcuterie board. “Should I start watching F1?”

“No!” He says it so quick that i’m taken aback.

“No?”

He laughs a bit, shaking it off, “It’s boring. I can’t have someone else in my life talk about it.”

I spin my wine around in the glass, “So I'm someone in your life now?”

He smirks, “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

I pretend to contemplate this, “I’ve never had a friend who hasn’t gone to the strawberry market with me.”

He makes an odd face, “So we must go then.”

I sigh, “If you want to be my friend…”

The corner of his mouth pulls, “Tomorrow at 9?”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

He’s at my door at 9:12. Thank god he’s late because I hop over to the door, pulling on my shoe and pulling down my jean skirt.

I open the door and stand up straight, smiling breathlessly. He, of course, looks perfect in jeans and an olive green shirt, “Morning.”

“Ready to taste the best strawberries you’ve ever had?” I grab my bag and keys.

“So ready.”

We make it to the market just on time. It’s my favorite neighborhood gem. Every Sunday people gather with strawberries. There are big and small, some covered in chocolate and some in honey.

I buy a box of chocolate ones, well Lando does. He insists that he still owes me. Handing one to Lando with an extra fork, he bites into it, his eyes roll, “Fucking hell.” I nod, excited that he likes them as much as I do.

“My favorite treat! Something you can’t burn your house down with.” I eye him and he eyes me right back. Being with Lando is like a breath of fresh air. I’ve never been so confident in my social skills.

He laughs with a shop owner as he buys his pack of plain strawberries. He's so nice and just listens politely as the woman goes on and on about her childhood on a strawberry farm.

He gives her a bigger bill than necessary and as she insists it’s too much, he just shakes his head and continues walking.

We settle at a park bench nearby, tasting all the pieces we’ve bought, “This is genuinely phenomenal.” He says while eating another, “How’d you find this place?”

“Had to write about something local and had total writers block… I was walking around one day and just sort of stumbled upon it.”

He smiles, I really like this smile. “You seem like the type to just stumble upon a strawberry market.”

I laugh, covering my mouth, “What does that even mean?”

“You’re just so…” His hands make these weird gestures, his fingers moving around as he laughs and gives up, “It just fits.”

I smile, meeting his eyes. They're so nice, a mix of blue and green. His gaze washes over me and I feel the need to smile even more.

“You’ve got nice eyes.” My stomach twists as he says it so calmly, “Real pretty.” I feel a blush on my cheeks and I turn away from him, looking at the park near us and being startled by the child looking up at us.

Lando follows my gaze, mumbling softly, “Shit.”

“Hi.” The kid says awestruck, I look to Lando who’s smiling and sitting up straighter. “Um- Are you Lando Norris?”

Lando scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah I am! What's your name?”

“W-William!” He says, swallowing and pulling a pen from behind his back, “Could you sign this?” I glance to what looks like his mother, she’s watching him with a smile.

Lando simply nods and takes the cap from his head, its bright orange. He signs his name and messes up the kid's hair, “Thanks a lot! My friends’ll never believe it!” The boy squeals and runs back to his mom who waves slightly and takes the boy's hand.

I raise a brow at Lando, still confused, “I’m sorry…” He looks embarrassed but I don’t even know what for.

“I’m going to assume you didn’t tell me the whole truth in what your job is?”

His cheeks get a bit red, “I do work with the cars… Just really close. Like I’m in them. One specifically.”

I nod, “Yours?”

“Mine.” He crosses his arms, his lips in a thin line, “I drive for McLaren.” I breathe out.

“Oh.” I can’t help but think I have a type because I grew up with Jenson Button posters on my wall.

He runs a hand through his curls, “I don’t usually get recognized around here- Thought we would be okay.”

“We are okay!” I reassure him, realizing he’s actually embarrassed, “That was sweet.”

He looks up hopefully, “You think? I’m sorry for lying- I just really liked that you didn’t know who I am or what I do.”

“Well, I sort of still don't. I know your full name now, that’s about it.” He smiles at this, I bite into another strawberry.

“Do you want to go out with me?”

He is yet to say something I'm not shocked at.

“Yeah.” I nod, smiling at him as he grins, “I’d really like that. Don’t you have to race soon though…? Singapore, isn’t it?”

The smirk that pulls at his lips is just plain mischievous, “I never said the date would be here.”

[ahqkas]

Could you do making gingerbread houses and decorating gingerbread men with the batfam

♯ SWEET TOOTH ( the batboys decorating gingerbread with you ! )

— gn!reader, dick & jason & tim ( separated ), fluff, kinda shorter than i wanted it to be 😣

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

THE FAINT SCENT OF CINNAMON AND ORANGE LINGERED IN THE AIR as you and your boyfriend stood by the kitchen counter, the place messy and full of bowls that contained colorful sprinkles. bags of candy sat nearby, waiting to be used but you ignored them for now. a half-constructed gingerbread house held all your attention at this moment.

its brown walls were slightly leaning to the opposite side and all you could do was to watch your boyfriend and his poor attempts at fixing the mess. ‘a little frosting will fix that’, he’d told you, and you gave him a nod of understanding, but you thought otherwise. it was funny, though, watching him struggle and slowly come to the realization that he wasn’t so right after all.

“you’ve got to trust the process, babe,” dick’s grin was big and full of trust as he smoothed a glob of white icing along the edges of the gingerbread walls.

“the process looks like it’s about to collapse. you sure you don’t need reinforcements?” you poked one of those walls with your fingertip, ignoring the way his eyes shifted to glare slightly at you. you knew you were cheeky.

“your lack of faith wounds me. i’m excellent in this, okay? a gingerbread architect. i’ve got this completely under control.”

you had to bite back a laugh because as soon as those words left his lips, the build of the whole gingerbread house wobbled, dangerously close to falling apart. dick’s skilled hands and long fingers moved to support his creation before he gave up and let the house fall into a big pile of sweets.

his blue eyes avoided yours when a little laugh slipped out of you, hands moving to wrap around his arm as you shook with moment. your boyfriend looked absolutely defeated, it was adorable on him.

“that’s how your control looks like?” the teasing remark came naturally between the two of you. you scooped a bit of the white icing of his crashed house and wiped it along his cheek, making a mess out of his pretty face.

. . . JASON TODD !

YOUR WHOLE KITCHEN SMELLED LIKE CHRISTMAS. warm scent of wine filled the air along with cinnamon and vanilla, tickling your nose in the right way. the kitchen was a certified mess. the counters were covered with bowls of colorful icing, sparkles, and candies in all shapes and sizes. a playlist consisting of christmas songs that tim had created for you was playing on loop the entire time from your phone in the corner, though the occasional crackle of the fire from the living room softened the atmosphere you’d created with your boyfriend.

speaking of him, jason stood by the edge of your kitchen island, long sleeves of his fitting shirt pushed up past his elbows, while he clutched a half-decorated gingerbread man in one hand and a bag of icing in the other. he looked so out of place but at the same time, he didn’t. his black shirt was dusted with a smattering of flour, and a streak of red icing lined his forearm where he’d clearly brushed it against one of those gingerbread men. the white tuff of his hair fell against his brow while he concentrated with his lips slightly pursed. the tip of his tongue barely poke out to lick the corners of his mouth from time to time.

your handsome jay.

“you’re taking this way to seriously,” you pointed out gently yet in a teasing tone from beside him, watching as he clothed the gingerbread man in a blue suit.

jason raised one eyebrow at your words, glancing at your own cookie in your hands. “yours looks like it fell face down into the bowl of sprinkles.”

“well, look at his little scarf.”

“it’s a blob of frosting, baby. you might need to pick up glasses.”

you staled yourself for any more remarks, although playful fights with your boyfriend never failed to lift up your mood. it was your thing, something that grew out of the roots in your relationship. the gingerbread man you were tasked to decorate now lay forgotten on the counter as you watched jason with all your attention, eyes following the movements of his skilled hands and fingers.

he started adding ridiculous details to his gingerbread man—a bird symbol on of their little chests, another with with red eyes and sharp canines for teeth. the resemblance was there and all you could do was laugh more.

“that’s supposed to be dick. and demon spawn.”

“you’re making fun of your brothers through cookies?”

“it’s therapeutic.”

. . . TIM DRAKE !

YOUR BOYFRIEND HAD INSISTED ON STARTING WITH COOKIES EARLIER THIS YEAR. something about wanting it to be perfect and neat, like it in his opinion should be. you’d laughed, thinking it was just an excuse to get more into the christmas spirit, but after you agreed and saw how focused he was on the task at his hand, you realized he’d meant every single word he said.

he stood at the dining table, sleeves rolled up to avoid making any further mess while he hummed a gentle note of what suspiciously sounded like a christmas carol. his brows were furrowed in concentration, the flour smudge on his cheek only highlighting the focus as he squeezed the piping bag. he carefully applied red frosting to the edge of his gingerbread man’s hoodie with his tongue poking out past his lips. you worked beside him, although less focused in your approach. you saw this activity as a sort of fun evening with him, while tim seemed to treat it like an opportunity to perfect himself.

you grew curious of his work the more he covered it from you. it was meant to be a subtle movement, but the way he turned his back to you more and more was getting suspicious. you leaned in slightly to peek at what he was doing, expecting to see his gingerbread man perfected to the dot, because of course it would be. instead, you saw something that both warmed your heart and tickled your sense of humor.

the first of his gingerbread man adorned a red hoodie with blue sprinkles for eyes and a tiny crooked smile that somehow made the cookie look exactly like your boyfriend. beside it lay a second gingerbread figure—this one wearing a pale yellow sweater, complimented with colorful candy buttons, and a neat swirl of icing for hair that unmistakably matched yours.

“tim. what are you working on there?”

your boyfriend stiffed upon the sound of your voice and the teasing edge that came with it. he was in deep before he could even speak up in his defense.

“uhhh, nothing.”

“nothing, huh? so these two aren’t supposed to be us?”

you watched as his ears turned red, and he scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, glancing at you sheepishly. “okay, fine, maybe they are us. but you don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”

“timothy jackson drake, this is adorable. you even gave me candy buttons. i am making a big deal out of this.”

it was such a small thing, but it made you feel huge feelings. no matter how quiet or closeted tim could be, things like these—where his actions spoke louder than his words ever could—reminded you how deeply he really cared. and as you nudged yourself into his arms, enveloping both of you into warmth and more flour, you felt the same sparkles blooming in your heart.

christmas with him was always magical.

[pshaven]

APPLE CIDER lee heeseung ౨ৎ

synopsis! your new roommate, heeseung, seems to underestimate just how naive you really are when you catch him in a compromising situation. wc! 5k cw! perv!hee, switch!heeseung & switch!reader but make it competitive, voyeurism(??), size kink if u squint, male masturbation, degradation, praising, oral (m!receiving), grinding, riding, no protection (Plz wrap it), hee a FREAAKKK, creampie, unspoken aftercare but like barely??, hee calls reader baby, good girl, slut, i think that's it lmk if i missed any!

BREAK THE SKIN M.LST

previous > next

“jay, i do not have time for a party right now!” you complain, getting dragged by your best friend into some frat party. he’s been urging you to get your mind off of your living situation, as it seems like it’s all you can think about these past few weeks. 

thanks to your idiot landlord, he’s made some overlap in the house you’re supposed to be living in for the next school year, thus leaving you in the dust since the other tenant had a better credit score than you (you can thank your impulse purchases for that). so you’ve been crashing at jay’s place for a bit and you’re starting to get sick of the boy house smell, and have been wanting to get out as soon as possible. 

unfortunately, the odds seem to not be in your favor as it seems like everyone you know doesn’t know anyone else who’s been looking for a roommate. 

“yeah, but you said it yourself! you’re sick of… the ‘boy’ smell at my place. you’re not smelling it anymore, right?” he teases, using air quotes as the both of you arrive at the front door and exchanging a nod with the frat boy at the front before walking inside. you huff out a sigh, releasing your wrist from jay’s grip. he is right in some way.. you’ve been looking nonstop for some place to stay at and you do need a break at some point. 

you hear someone call jay’s name, approaching the two of you. “hey, jay, nice to see you!” they greet, and you excuse yourself because you refuse to stand there awkwardly as the two of them catch up. you make your way to the kitchen, seeing the multiple bottles of different alcohol brands lined up on the island and you scrunch your nose. you and jay never talked about who’s being the designated driver tonight, so you decide to be safe and just have something else. 

you find a cooler beside the counter on the floor, hoping there’s something for you to drink. bending down and opening the cooler, another hand invades your view of your options and you see that they’ve grabbed the last bottle of apple juice. you frown a bit, searching through the ice cubes to only find gatorade and lemonade left.

you stand up, shutting the cooler with a hefty sigh, a clear pout on your face that doesn’t go unnoticed by the culprit who stole the last apple juice. “oh, oops. did you want this?” he asks, tearing the straw from the carton and poking it in. as if he’s taunting you, he’s slightly shaking the juice in his hand. 

“oh, it’s alright. i’m sure i can just have something else…” you mumble, but offer a smile to him anyway since he was nice enough to offer it to you. 

he nods, “good. i wasn’t gonna give it up anyway.” he gives you a boyish grin, sipping the juice in front of you like he’s doing it on purpose, in the most menacing way possible. his words have you choking your thoughts, eyes narrowing at this ridiculous(ly handsome) boy in front of you, innocently sipping at his apple juice. 

“wh- you dick??” you gape, brows furrowing in frustration. your hands think on their own, reaching up for his juice carton and squeezing at the sides so that the juice goes to spill all over his clothes. and it’s his turn to gape at you, eyes wide and mouth open in shock as he comprehends what you just did. 

“morning,” you hear a grumble from behind you, a sleepy heeseung clad in plaid pajama pants and a teen titans t-shirt making loud footsteps towards you in the kitchen. you raise your brow at him as you turn around, holding a cup of apple juice in your hands.

“umm, don’t you have a ten am class today? it’s eleven,” you inform him curiously, watching his eyes still try to blink open from sleep as he’s opening the fridge in haste. he throws his head back, groaning loudly and proceeds to stomp on the ground like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

“you finished the apple juice?!” heeseung whines, lips forming a pout like you did that night at the party, turning his head over his shoulder to look at you. you roll your eyes, setting your half-finished cup of juice on the counter and sliding it towards him as if it’s your nth time dealing with this (it is. it happens every time at the end of the week). 

he gratefully takes your cup, chugging down the apple juice before licking his lips in satisfaction. he completely ignores your question, passing you to get to the sink to wash the mug. you turn your body to look at him again, head tilted to the side curiously as you watch his lazy hands scrubbing the soap sloppily on the cup. 

he’s extra sleepy this morning, and he’s usually not the type to skip his classes (surprisingly), especially not his important classes that impact his major. “are you okay?” you ask him once he finishes, setting the cup upside down to dry. 

heeseung pauses in his tracks a bit, blinking blankly before meeting eyes with you. “oh… yeah. don’t worry about me. just had a rough night i guess…” he mumbles, sheepishly rubbing the nape of his neck awkwardly. 

it’s a habit you notice that he does every time he’s nervous or when he’s hiding something. although the two of you have been roommates for over four months now and have a good friendship, bonding over your love for anything apple juice or apple cider, you wouldn’t think he would be the type to confide in you. 

“it’s all that gaming you do,” you reprimand him like you’re his mother, patting him on his shoulder before walking back into your room. he releases a breath he doesn’t realize he’s been holding once your door shut, leaving him alone in the kitchen. 

rubbing a hand over his face, heeseung does his best to recollect himself but his lower half seems to have a mind of his own, creating a clear imprint of his hardon through his pajama pants. he shuffles his way to his own bedroom, hurriedly shutting the door as he lays himself down on his bed. “fuck,” he huffs out, eyes screwing shut. not his fault, he tells himself; you just look too pretty in the morning, slightly ruffled up hair and not to mention your cute pajamas.

but he thinks nothing beats the outfit you wore to the party the night he met you.

all dolled up, putting in effort to the way you look but not trying too hard. he blesses jake for convincing him into going that night, or else he probably would never get a pretty roommate like you. you were so cute to him, eyes widening in shock at your own action when you had sprayed the juice all over him. sure, the stain never got out of his favorite shirt but you definitely made it up to him that same night. 

his cock restrained in his pajama pants only feel tighter the more he resists, a grumbly groan leaving his lips as he shamefully fishes his cock out. his hand begins to slowly move up and down, hips lifting off the bed from being impatient as he needily thrusts up into his fist. 

his breath starts to pick up when he hears you humming on the other side of the wall, presumably with your headphones on as you study or do homework. so cute, so innocent, you have no idea that he fucks his hand to you every night.

“god–” he gasps, fist speeding up as he pretends you’re doing it for him; soft and pliant hands wrapping around his thick girth– you probably can’t even fully wrap your hand around him. the thought sends him into a needier state, letting a whine slip from his lips before he captures his bottom lip between his teeth to quiet down. 

he reminisces about your pretty party outfit, simple yet effective enough to get him worked up. your small hands immediately reaching for his chest in a terrible attempt to clean him up, still shocked about what you had just done. the mere size difference of his broad chest compared to your hand has him reeling, imagining that you’re on top of him and discovering his body. 

he pretends his hand is yours, his free hand going underneath his t-shirt and scratching at his stomach but his dull nails are nothing compared to your pretty, manicured nails. he licks his drying lips, fist tightening around his cock as he feels himself get close. he muffles his voice again, having a bad habit of being too loud when he’s approaching his high. 

he moans into his hand, hips twitching and still slightly thrusting up to get the last bit of satisfying overstimulation. his cum spread all over his hand and shirt, he lets out a sigh, one of relief and shame.

he feels so dirty, so gross and perverted– what was meant to just be two people temporarily taking advantage of each other’s situation is going on for too long. 

“oh god, i’m so sorry!” you quickly apologize, hands wiping at his clothed chest to get rid of the juice but you realize you’re only making it worse. “fuck, i’m sorry,” you mumble another apology, but the man in front of you only laughs. you cock a brow, thinking he’s laughing at you. maybe you don’t regret squeezing the juice box all over him. 

“no, sorry, i–” he breaks out into another fit of laughter, slightly hunching over and you just don’t get what is so funny. you cross your arms across your chest, brows furrowing as you watch him collect himself once more. “damn. i don’t know someone who takes apple juice this seriously.”

you frown, “i’m not. sorry, i’m just stressed cause no one has a free space for me to live in temporarily, and all i wanted was a sweet box of apple juice but someone took the last one!” you say pointedly, eyeing him up and down with narrow eyes (in a judgemental manner… totally not checking him out). 

he raises his hands up in surrender, shoulders shrugging. “whoops! well you should’ve just told me that. then i would’ve offered to share,” he hums, flashing you another boyish grin. you think he’s lucky he’s attractive, because if he wasn’t, you would’ve been long gone out of this conversation. 

“wow, just ‘share’? that’s how you’re gonna treat me while i’m in a crisis?!” you exaggerate, eyes wide with sarcasm as you scoff at him. 

he giggles at you, enjoying how expressive you are.  “you do know you’re not the only one experiencing a crisis, right?” he raises a brow at you, grin still remaining on his face. 

the rest seemed to be history, him explaining to you that his dickhead old roommate just stopped paying rent and was kicked out so now he’s paying the entire floor and is in dire need for a roommate to fill in. 

it was all too convenient, it seemed too good to be true. 

heeseung is a good roommate. you had your doubts about living with a guy, especially after staying with jay for a while, you were worried the boy stench would apply to living with heeseung too. but since it was just him, it wasn’t overwhelming as long as you didn’t step foot into his man cave. 

he does his fair share of chores, like doing the dishes and taking out the trash. he’s clean in the shared space and has yet to ever make you uncomfortable or doubt living with him. but of course, jay has his own reservations about you living with heeseung. 

“what?” jay’s voice pierces your ears, his tone of disbelief and disappointment at the same time making you a bit wary. you shrug, giving your best friend a sheepish smile before you try to defend yourself. 

“come on! it’s a win-win situation? i’ve been looking for weeks! i need a place to stay!” you plead your case, folding your hands like you’re praying (for jay to not kill you). 

he scoffs, eyes rolling. “you do have a place to stay. here! safe! and not with a stranger!” jay reprimands you, finger pointing down to the couch the two of you are sitting on. 

you sigh in return, “he’s not a stranger! plus, aren’t you guys friends?” you suddenly question, brow raising up at him and he seems to be appalled at your accusation. 

“huh?? where did you get that from? me and heeseung are not friends. i don’t like him. he’s weird for asking you to live with him,” jay mumbles in the last sentence, eyes peeling off of you for a second as he looks at his fiddling hands. 

you find his sudden change in attitude strange, your best friend usually never gets shy around you to say what’s on his mind. nor does he ever get this heated about a choice you’ve made. “okay, geez. i just thought you guys hung out with the same crowd…” you frown, your fingers now nervously playing with the hem of your shirt.

jay makes you nervous. despite being your bestest and longest friend, he seems to always have certain reserves around you and it’s difficult for you to point out sometimes. you know he cares for you and vice versa– that will never change. but it’s hard to understand what he’s feeling if it’s not already written all over his face. that means it’s already too late, he’s been feeling that way for a long time. 

nonetheless, through all his protests and complaining that you should absolutely not move in with heeseung, he still helped you move in the next week. 

heeseung’s been nothing but good. 

until you decide to skip class one day, holed up in your room because you weren’t feeling well that day. you don’t have heeseung’s schedule memorized yet, since it’s only been three weeks since you first moved in. but you hear shuffling from outside your room, and if there’s one thing you discovered, it’s that heeseung is a loud walker.

the footsteps stop, but then a few minutes later, you hear faint moaning. it’s so quiet that you think you imagined it, but now your ears are perked up to try and perceive what you’re hearing. you swear the sounds go up a decimal higher, and you can pick up high-pitched squeals and moans from outside your room. 

your eyes widen, half of your face hidden underneath your blanket as you piece together the scenario. is he really watching porn out in the living room? it’s not that you’re judging him for watching porn, but out in the shared space that the two of you have movie nights and eat dinner together feels… dirty. 

but you suppose you’re not any better. the fact that heeseung is a few feet away from you, horny and doing god knows what in an intimate space that the two of you share.. your thighs squeeze together under your bed sheets. 

you secretly wish that the living room was closer to your room since it’s hard for you to really hear anything other than the porn playing. but then it suddenly stops, the sound from the video no longer masking the pants and moans of your roommate. he doesn’t seem to be shy given how vocal he is, probably because he thought he was alone. 

you can’t help but feel a little guilty, thighs rubbing together as your heated face stares up at the ceiling, trying to get rid of the visual your brain presents of heeseung stroking his cock, probably manspreading with his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut with pleasure.

you didn’t regret moving in with heeseung at first. now that you know his secret, you regret it a little bit. 

either heeseung has no shame or he’s really good at hiding it. he doesn’t seem to be affected when sitting on the couch together, indulged in whatever movie he had picked while you two ate dinner. you were a bit awkward at first, eyes wandering around the couch to look for stains, shifting as if you’re impatient to the point that heeseung had to ask if you were okay.

he’s impressively well at keeping things casual with you, like he’s the most innocent man in the world. you suppose you’re doing the same– you’re not exactly in the clear, listening in on him when you could’ve easily thrown on some headphones for the sake of his privacy. 

this went on for months, and now that you’re on month four of living together, you’ve almost forgotten about that incident… or perhaps you just pushed it to the back of your mind to not distract you. 

and while you think heeseung might be unintentionally a freaky pervert, he’s really quite the opposite. getting off to the mere thought of you possibly hearing him gets him worked up, and your innocent conversations you have with him the next day only gets him hot and bothered. 

the thought of you possibly knowing his “habit” has crossed his mind more than a few times, but he highly doubts it since you’re able to sit down and have dinner with him on the very same couch that he had just cleaned cum off of an hour ago. you just seem too sweet, too distracted with your difficult classes to even bother with him. 

but he likes to indulge himself, always imagining you walking in on him. perhaps your class ended early, and you open the door to find him jerking off on the couch with a picture of you from  your instagram on his phone screen. 

until the imagination falls short, and he hears your voice. his eyes open, hand halting to a stop on his hard cock and he’s faced with the sight of you standing in front of him, between his thighs. his throat goes dry, pupils enlarging as he cranes his neck to look up at you. 

his eyes follow your gaze– you’re not even looking at his face, instead you’re looking at his thick length, accompanied by his large hand and he thinks you’ve fallen into some sort of trance. but heeseung, too horny to even comprehend this situation, manspreads wider than usual on the couch to allow you some room. 

“go ahead,” he speaks after some silence, your eyes finally meeting his as he directs you to look back at his neglected, throbbing cock. you feel unsure, you feel like you’re possessed, maybe your horny spirit finally letting you indulge in your secret crush on your roommate, but you drop  to your knees, your hands going over heeseung’s own hand still on his cock. 

the size difference of yours on top of his is enough to make his dick twitch, his hips lifting off the couch with need. “fuck, c’mon, you’re looking at it like you need it. good girls like you always get what they want, right?” he says through gritted teeth, nudging his cock towards your mouth. 

his praise goes straight into your head, making your brain and lower stomach feel fuzzy. your mouth opens, tongue shyly going past your bottom lip and heeseung takes this opportunity to rest his tip on your peeked tongue, instantly hissing at the wetness. “s’cute, now take as much as you want, okay?” he praises, slowly guiding you down his cock with your hands still on top of his own. 

your lips envelope around the head of his cock, taking it deeper and doing as he says. your hands stay on his hand, starting to go deeper until your lips meet his finger. heeseung groans, resisting on bucking his hips into your warm and wet mouth. 

“shit, coulda’ just said you wanted all of me,” he mumbles, watching you start to get used to the feeling of him inside your mouth. “fuck– just like that, y/n,” he whines, barely keeping his eyes open but forcing himself so he can keep looking at you, cheeks puffed out and drool slipping from the corner of your lips already. 

you try to whine in protest from his words, but it only gets muffled with your mouth stuffed full of your roommate’s dick. he chuckles at you, his free hand resting on top of your head. “roomie,” he teases as your brows furrow together but he only thinks you look cuter like this, “don’t you know to not talk with your mouth full? where’s your manners?” he tsks, but gets shortly cut off by his own moans, your tongue working at his sensitive tip. 

heeseung curses under his breath, his hand on your head starting to push you down more. “since– hah– someone forgot their manners… i feel like i need to teach you a few things,” he hums, low-lidded eyes peering down at you. he suddenly pulls you off, strings of saliva attached from his cock to your wet lips. 

truth be told, he was getting impossibly close but he didn’t wait four months just to cum inside your mouth. 

he grabs you by your waist, hoisting you up onto the couch and laying you on your back. “now lemme just see how wet you got from sucking my cock,” he grins, but it’s different from his usual boyish smiles, it’s one that speaks he’s getting more than just a ‘look’. 

heeseung tugs your bottoms off, throwing them onto the floor beside the couch. he moans at the sight of a wet spot through your white panties, soaked to the point where he could see the outline of your pussy. “shit,” he groans, index finger prodding at your covered entrance. he leans in closer, tongue slipping past his lips and pressing against your panties.

his hot breath is enough to rip a shaky moan out of you, your hands unsure of what to do as you grab at a random couch pillow. he looks up at you through his lashes, pressing his tongue more against your clothed pussy to add pressure. you whine, a pout forming at your lips, “fuck! you’re so annoying,” you huff.

you pull your hips away from him, and he gives you a confused look until he understands that you’re just pulling your panties down in a hurry. he chuckles at you, amused in your rush to get fucked by him. he grabs at your thighs, pulling you back down closer to him. “what? you want me that bad or you just desperate for some dick like a slut?”

his words have your eyes widening, look at him still in between your legs. “the fuck?” you curse at him, and heeseung only laughs mockingly some more. “i think you’re the slut, no? jacking off in our shared space where i could walk in anytime,” you scoff, shuffling as you sit up on your elbows, “you wanted me to see you like this, right?” you taunt, your hand now pushing at his chest to lay him down on his back. 

“you’re the one desperate for some pussy like a slut,” you whisper, cunt hovering over his cock that’s laid hard on his stomach. you lower your hips, pussy meeting the thick veins of his cock as you begin to rock your hips against him. he gasps at the contact, hands flying to your waist as he looks down at where the two of you meet. 

“fuck–” he hisses, his own hips bucking up to meet your slow grinds but he feels even more desperate, feeling his cock twitch against his stomach and your wet cunt. it’s your turn to grin down at him, your hands on his chest keeping you up. “now you got nothing to say? not even a sorry for acting so innocent when you’re not?” you hum, beginning to grind faster on him. 

heeseung whines at the sloppy noises from your cunt grinding on him, the sounds so sticky and lewd that only makes him feel like he’s going to cum faster. “i’m–” he moans loud, his hands on your waist gripping tighter. “i’m sorry! fuck, stop, i’m close–!” he whines and begs, desperate to not cum like this on his own stomach.

you giggle as you lift your hips up, away from his cock as you watch him catch his breath, chest heaving up and down. you pout at him, a hand reaching to cup at his jaw as your thumb rubs soothingly at his cheek. “i dunno, i think you liked th–at!” you begin to speak, but your voice breaks when you feel a sudden intrusion at your entrance.

“fuckkk,” heeseung moans, his hands on your hips reaching down to your ass as he slowly guides you down his cock, “you’re so fucking hot talking to me like that,” he chuckles breathlessly, staring at your shocked expression as you feel the stretch of your pussy from his cock. 

you whine at the pressure of him pushing his cock into you, your chest meeting his after your arms felt too weak to keep you up. “oh my fuck!” you squeal, eyes squeezing shut as he keeps on going deeper slowly, inch by inch that makes you feel like passing out. 

“so good,” he breathes out, a hand leaving your ass but to grab at the nape of your neck to pull you into a kiss, a messy and sloppy one, but it also feels like he’s been waiting to do this since the day he met you. you whine into the kiss, tongues meeting and sliding against each other and he takes this as his opportunity to bottom out on you.

he swallows your moans, inhaling your scent, your lips, your everything as he stays still to let you adjust to the feeling of him inside you. you whimper as you pull away from him, barely catching your breath as you begin to rock your hips impatiently on him, causing him to moan out your name.

“fuck, hahh~! feels so good,” you slur, biting your lower lip as you grind on him, feeling your clit meet his pelvic bone each time that only makes your stomach tighten. he leans back more, his arms wrapping around your entire body before he snaps his hips up into you, making you take it as he maneuvers your body. 

you cry out, your cunt barely able to accommodate his size but the burning stretch makes your head feel blank as you bury your face into his neck, your moans sounding muffled out. heeseung groans with each thrust, your wet pussy making his lower stomach messy as your juices slap against his balls. 

“shit, you’re so fucking hot,” he moans out, hips beginning to get sloppy but it only turns you on more to see him become desperate for you. you put in effort to lift your head up, meeting your lips with his and the two of you moan and whine into each other's mouths, the entire living room echoing of wet skin slapping and sloppy kisses.

“ah– don’t stop! pleaseee,” you beg, your nails scratching at his shoulder blade and chest as you feel the knot in your lower belly tighten, threatening to snap. “fuck–shit, me too, baby, g’na cum too!” heeseung moans out, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses at your sensitive lower jaw and neck that only sends shivers down your spine, leaving you shaking as you reach your orgasm over his cock. 

“fuck, fuck fuck, y/n,” he whimpers, lips releasing from your neck as he throws his head back in pleasure. your walls contracting and pulsating against his twitching cock pushes him further into his high, his hips sporadically delivering you deep and fast thrusts that have you hiccuping as you moan. 

the two of you catch your breath, your forehead meeting his chest as you both breathe in silence, chests heaving up and down. he stays still inside you, his softening cock making his cum leak down the inside of your thighs. neither of you say anything, despite the soothing back rubs that heeseung gives you and your hand in his hair that is gently massaging at his scalp. 

the buzzing of your phone on the coffee table reaches both of your ears, and you shoot up from heeseung’s chest, sitting up straight and still on his cock. the both of you wince at your sudden movement from being too sensitive. “sorry…” you say quietly, bending slightly to get your phone. 

jake (project partner): hey. are you on your way yet?

you curse underneath your breath, slapping your hand against your forehead as you had forgotten about your project with jake. heeseung gives you a curious raised brow, “is everything alright…?”

you purse your lips before giving him a sheepish smile as you carefully lift your hips off of him, slightly wincing at the uncomfortable feeling of his cum slipping out even more. “uh… i actually got a project to do right now.. so…” you trail off, meeting his eyes and the two of you look at each other in silence for a good ten seconds. 

you slowly bend down awkwardly, grabbing your discarded bottoms and giving your roommate (that you just fucked) a small wave goodbye before rushing to the bathroom to wash up.

heeseung opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out as he watches your bare butt with his cum dripping out of your cunt go into the bathroom. he sighs, awkwardly shuffling his pants back on as he tries to pretend that it’s normal to fuck his roommate.

it’s normal, right?

[reidmarieprentiss]

Something's Gotta Give

Summary: Chip hitchhikes his way away from where his life fell apart. He meets a beautiful woman, you, and his brain, once again, becomes a potato.

Pairing: Chip Taylor x fem!reader

Category: fluff, smut (18+), angst

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, mentions of what happened in 68-kill, insecurities, jealousy, boss/employee relationship, happy ending

Word count: 18.7k

a/n: i love me some spencer reid but chip taylor is sooo pathetic it just gets me going

main masterlist

Additional warnings: unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), oral (m receiving), mild consensual degradation

28-year-old Chip Taylor was a mess, to put it simply. After narrowly escaping the chaos of Louisiana, he drove as far as he could on what little gas money he had, before resorting to hitchhiking. His path was aimless, following wherever someone would take him, until he somehow ended up in Colorado. In Aurora, he found a shelter where he could sleep while he searched for a job.

Now, with his face healed and dressed in some half-decent clothes—no longer stained with blood—Chip wandered the streets of Aurora, unsure of what his next move would be, but grateful for the temporary calm.

Chip quickly discovered that his search for work wasn’t going to be as simple as he’d hoped. Every place he walked into seemed to size him up before kindly, but firmly, turning him away. His stomach sank a little more with each rejection, though he tried to brush it off and keep moving forward.

At a diner, the older woman behind the counter smiled apologetically, her eyes flicking over his application. “I’m sorry, hon. We’re really looking for someone with experience in the kitchen. It’s just so busy around here, you know? Best of luck, though.”

Chip nodded, his heart sinking, but he mustered a smile. “Thanks, I understand.”

At a hardware store, the manager gave him a once-over, scratching his chin. “You ever worked with tools before? We need someone who knows their way around equipment, construction, that kind of thing.”

Chip shook his head, feeling the weight of his own uselessness. “No, but I can learn fast.”

The man offered a tight-lipped smile. “I’m sure you can, but we need someone who can hit the ground running. Sorry, pal.”

Even the local gas station didn’t seem to have room for him. The young guy at the counter barely looked up from his phone as he spoke. “Yeah, we’re fully staffed right now. You could leave your number, but… I wouldn’t count on anything soon.”

Chip stood there for a moment, the rejection almost stinging more because of how little the guy cared. He turned away without leaving his number.

By the time the sun began to set, Chip was exhausted from walking up and down the streets of Aurora, facing rejection after rejection. His new clothes felt heavier with every polite smile and apologetic glance, and he wondered how much longer he could keep this up.

Chip wandered across the neon-lit streets, his eyes catching the glow from a sign that cast an inviting red hue over the sidewalk. He stopped to take it in: Lovers of Today. The name was bold, practically daring someone like him to step inside and forget his troubles for a while.

He didn’t have a cent to his name, but at least he could probably score a glass of water, and the idea of sitting somewhere that wasn’t a shelter felt like a brief escape.

As he pushed the door open, the warmth of the dive bar’s dim lighting greeted him. The red neon heart in the window flickered, casting playful shadows on the walls. The smell of old wood, cigarette smoke, and stale beer hung in the air, but Chip didn’t mind. It was a welcome change from the streets outside.

He plopped down on a worn stool at the bar, letting out a soft sigh of relief as he surveyed the room. The bar was cluttered but lively, bottles lined up with care, their glass shimmering under the soft red glow. Music hummed low in the background, a melancholic tune that fit the slow pulse of the room. A man played pool in the back, his movements lazy and unhurried, while a few scattered patrons sat at tables, lost in their own thoughts.

“What can I get you, sweetheart?” A melodic voice pulled Chip from his thoughts, snapping him back to reality.

He turned to face the bartender, and for a moment, his brain seemed to short-circuit. There she was—easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. That realization sent a jolt of fear through him, more intense than any excitement he might have felt. Her soft, playful smile made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

You noticed his hesitation, his wide-eyed look, and leaned forward slightly, tilting your head. “…Can I get you anything?” you asked again, this time with a bit of a laugh in your voice, clearly entertained by his flustered state.

“Uh—um, yeah, just a water?” Chip finally managed, though he cursed himself for sounding so awkward.

You smiled, the amusement twinkling in your eyes. “Sure thing, sugar,” you replied, effortlessly cool as you turned to get his drink, leaving Chip to collect his scattered thoughts.

You placed the glass down in front of him with another smile. “Here you go.”

“Th-thanks,” Chip stammered, looking up at you with wide, innocent eyes, his nerves getting the better of him.

You winked, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, before turning to tend to your other customers. Chip couldn’t help himself—he leaned up slightly, watching you as you bent down to grab a beer from the fridge. His eyes lingered on your curves, his mind briefly distracted from the pit of anxiety that had been gnawing at him all day.

After you served the other patrons, you made your way back to the bar, your eyes flicking over the handsome, if not charmingly pathetic, man in front of you. His awkwardness was almost endearing.

“Anything else?” you asked, putting away freshly cleaned glasses.

“No, just water is fine,” Chip said, though the way he gulped and avoided looking at how your top clung to your chest told you he was flustered.

You sighed softly, setting down the glass you’d been holding. “Are you sure, sweetheart? You look like you’ve had a tough day.”

Chip’s shoulders slumped as he exhaled heavily, the weight of everything pressing down on him. “Yeah. I have, but I, uh… I don’t really have any money on me.”

You nodded thoughtfully, your gaze softening with understanding. “I see…” You turned around, and Chip’s heart sank, deflating even more as he stared at his water. He really was such a loser.

But then you spun back toward him, setting a nice cold beer in front of him with a wink. “It’s on the house, sugar,” you said, your smile making the tension in Chip’s chest ease just a little. “In exchange, you can tell me what’s got you so down?”

Chip blinked at the beer, surprised by the unexpected kindness. His lips twitched into a small, grateful smile as he glanced up at you. 

“Really? You want to hear about my day?” Chip asked, a bit incredulous, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. He wasn’t used to someone actually wanting to listen, especially not someone like you.

“Yeah,” you replied, offering a sweet smile that seemed to melt away some of the guardedness he’d been holding onto. “Tell me what’s got you so down.”

For a moment, Chip hesitated. Part of him wondered if he should just shrug it off, make something up, or dodge the question entirely. He couldn’t exactly spill everything—the illegal activities, the women, and all the madness that led to his escape from Louisiana. That was a story no one needed to hear. But maybe he could share the rest of it, the overwhelming feeling of being lost, broken, and more useless than ever.

“Well,” he began, keeping his gaze on the beer in front of him, fingers tracing the rim of the bottle. “It’s been a rough few weeks, to be honest. I, uh, kinda lost everything back home. Decided to leave, and… here I am, trying to start fresh, I guess.”

He took a sip of the beer, the cold liquid soothing his parched throat. “I thought I’d find a job, but, you know, turns out I’m not exactly qualified for… well, anything. Been walking all over town getting turned away.”

You leaned in a little, listening intently, your face soft with empathy. He glanced at you nervously, his words fumbling but flowing now that the gates had cracked open.

“I don’t know, it’s just… I keep messing up, everywhere I go. Feels like I can’t catch a break.” He paused, staring into his beer again, his voice lowering. “Feels like maybe I don’t deserve one.”

You frowned slightly, your heart tugged by the self-deprecating tone in his voice. “Hey,” you said, your voice kind but firm, “don’t say that. We all have rough patches. It doesn’t mean you’re not worth something. It just means things are tough right now. Doesn’t mean it’ll always be that way.”

Chip looked up at you, surprised by the sincerity in your voice. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. He hadn’t expected kindness from anyone, much less a stranger. His lips twitched into a faint smile, the first real one he’d felt in days.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, genuinely. “I needed to hear that.”

You smiled at him again, that same warm and genuine expression softening your features. “Anytime, sugar.” A slight pause lingered between you before you leaned in just a bit, voice dropping to a playful tone. “Tell me though, do you have any experience bartending?”

Chip shook his head quickly, a little embarrassed. “No, not really,” he admitted, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Hmm… are you strong?” you giggled, clearly having some fun with him.

Chip instinctively looked down at his arms, making you swoon just a bit as the way his muscles strained against the fabric of his sleeves caught your eye.

“I guess?” he said, though his voice carried uncertainty, like he wasn’t sure if he should be bragging.

You laughed softly. “Do you scare easily?”

“Uhhh…” Chip blinked, clearly unsure how to answer that, given everything he’d been through recently.

“Do you think you could be a bouncer?” you asked, leaning forward a little more. “Kick people out for being assholes?”

His brow furrowed slightly. “What are you asking?”

“I’m trying to offer you a job here,” you said with a smile, your words hanging in the air like an unexpected lifeline.

Chip’s eyes widened in surprise, his breath catching in his throat. “A job? Here?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had walked in hoping for nothing more than a glass of water, and now here you were, offering him a shot at something better.

You nodded, your expression kind but still playful. “Yeah, I need someone to keep an eye on things. It’s a dive bar, after all, and we get our fair share of rowdy customers. Plus, it’d be nice to have a strong pair of arms around, don’t you think?”

Chip felt a wave of relief mixed with cautious optimism wash over him. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but it was a start. A chance. And right now, that was all he needed.

“I—yeah. I could do that,” he said, his voice steadier now. “I mean, I’ll do my best.”

You grinned, clearly pleased with his answer. “That’s all I’m asking, sugar. Can you start tomorrow?”

Chip stared at you in disbelief, unable to suppress the small, hopeful smile forming on his lips as he nodded. Maybe, just maybe, this was the break he’d been waiting for.

That night, Chip walked back to the shelter with a smile tugging at his lips, something that had been a rare visitor in recent weeks. The cool night air felt refreshing against his skin as he moved through the dimly lit streets of Aurora, replaying the events of the evening in his head. He couldn’t quite believe it—after days of dead-end rejections, here he was with a job offer. 

And it wasn’t just any job; it was from you. A beautiful, confident woman who had seemed to see something in him, even when he wasn’t sure what he had left to offer. Your kindness had caught him off guard, leaving him feeling a mix of gratitude and something he couldn’t quite place—maybe hope? It had been so long since he’d felt even a flicker of optimism.

But as much as he tried to bask in the good fortune of the moment, there was a nagging feeling creeping at the edges of his mind. Ominous, maybe. It felt almost too lucky to have met you and been offered a job so quickly. Nothing in his life had ever come easy, and now that something finally had, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a catch. 

Still, for now, Chip allowed himself to enjoy the victory. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his mind wandering to what tomorrow might bring. It wasn’t much—a job as a bouncer at a dive bar—but it was something. It was a start. Maybe he could pull his life together after all.

As he neared the shelter, his smile widened just a bit, despite that faint feeling of unease lingering in the back of his mind. For the first time in a long time, he had something to look forward to.

—

The next day, Chip walked into the bar, nerves buzzing in his chest as he stepped through the doors of Lovers of Today for his first day. The place was quieter now, with the neon signs flickering softly, casting their warm red glow over the room. Behind the counter, there you were again, moving gracefully as you set up for the night. Your presence instantly caught his eye, and before he knew it, that same anxious excitement was bubbling up inside him.

You looked up when he entered, smiling sweetly in his direction. “Hey there, sugar! Glad you made it,” you said, your voice warm and welcoming.

Chip swallowed, nodding as he approached the bar. “Yeah, of course,” he replied, his hands already feeling clammy with anticipation. He’d thought about this moment all night, and now that he was here, standing in front of you again, he felt even more flustered than before.

You gestured for him to come closer, pulling him next to you behind the bar. "Alright, so here's the rundown," you began, your tone casual but professional. You started explaining the basics of what you expected from him—keeping an eye on the patrons, making sure things didn’t get out of hand, and if someone got too rowdy, he'd be the one to step in.

But as you talked, Chip found it harder and harder to focus. You were standing so close that he could catch the faint, intoxicating scent of your perfume. It wasn’t overpowering, just enough to make his head spin a little, like a soft whisper of musk and something sweet that lingered in the air. The way you moved, the subtle brush of your arm against his as you pointed things out, made his concentration slip further.

“So, if someone refuses to pay or starts causing trouble…” you continued, but Chip’s attention wavered as his eyes darted to your lips when you spoke, then back to the glass you were polishing.

He blinked, snapping himself out of his haze for a moment. “Right, uh, got it,” he muttered, though he wasn’t sure if he had actually retained anything useful. His heart was pounding, but not from nerves about the job. No, this was something else entirely—something about you had his pulse racing.

You paused, tilting your head slightly, a knowing glimmer in your eyes as you glanced at him. "You listening, Chip? Or am I gonna have to repeat myself?"

“Sorry,” Chip stammered, embarrassed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m listening. Just—uh—it’s a lot to take in, I guess.”

You chuckled softly, leaning just a little closer. “It’s okay, sugar. You’ll get the hang of it. Just focus on keeping things calm, and don’t worry, I’ll be here if you need help.”

Chip nodded, forcing himself to concentrate, but the scent of you, the warmth of your presence, made it feel like the room was spinning just a bit. He knew he had to pull it together—he couldn’t let his head get lost every time he was around you. But right now, standing next to you, it was harder than he’d ever imagined.

Chip’s first night went off without a hitch. The bar’s steady rhythm felt almost soothing to him, and by the time his second week rolled around, he had settled into a routine. He’d met the other bartenders and bouncers, learned the ins and outs of the place, and even found himself relaxing a little more with each shift. Nothing too wild had happened yet—just the usual drunken antics that were easily manageable.

That was, until that one night.

It started out like any other, the low hum of conversations mixing with the clinking of glasses and the soft pulse of music in the background. Chip had been stationed near the entrance, keeping an eye on things, when the commotion began. At first, it was just muffled noise, some guy raising his voice near the bar. But then Chip heard your voice, calm but firm, cutting through the clamor.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t serve you anymore,” you said, keeping your cool as you leaned against the bar. “You’ve had enough for the night.”

That’s when the man—clearly drunk, clearly angry—decided to escalate things. His voice grew louder, slurred words laced with irritation. “You can’t cut me off, bitch! I paid good money, and I’m not done drinking!”

Chip’s body tensed as he watched from a distance, the sudden surge of protectiveness coursing through him. He felt his heart rate pick up as the drunk man leaned closer to you, his gestures growing more aggressive. Chip knew he had to step in. He had to protect you. 

No, he reminded himself, forcing his mind to stay clear. Protect the bar. That’s your job. But despite the internal reminder, the thought of someone yelling at you, someone daring to treat you like that, sent a surge of adrenaline through his veins.

He moved quickly, weaving through the tables and patrons until he was by your side. The drunk man was still fuming, his face red and twisted in frustration. Chip didn’t wait for an invitation.

“Hey,” Chip said, his voice low but firm, stepping between you and the man. “You need to calm down.”

The drunk guy’s eyes flicked toward Chip, sizing him up, before he sneered. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the guy telling you to leave,” Chip responded, standing his ground. His heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his voice steady, refusing to let the guy see any hesitation. “You’ve had enough. Time to go.”

The man puffed up his chest, clearly not interested in backing down. “I paid for my damn drinks!”

“You paid,” Chip agreed, “and now you’re done. Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be.” He subtly shifted his stance, ready to intervene if the guy got any more aggressive.

For a moment, the man looked like he might push his luck, but then he glanced around the bar. Eyes were starting to turn his way. The whole scene had drawn enough attention that even he seemed to realize he wasn’t going to win this one.

With a final curse under his breath, the man shoved his stool back and stumbled toward the door. Chip kept an eye on him until he was out of sight, his muscles still tense and ready, just in case.

Once the man was gone, Chip let out a slow breath, the adrenaline ebbing away. He turned to you, still feeling the lingering need to make sure you were okay.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You smiled at him, clearly impressed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Chip.”

Chip couldn’t help the small, sheepish smile that crossed his face. “Just doing my job.”

“Still,” you said, leaning against the bar, your eyes softening a bit as you looked at him. “I appreciate it, sweetheart.”

And just like that, all the tension that had built up in Chip’s body melted away, replaced with something else. A warmth, a quiet sense of accomplishment, knowing that he had done what he needed to do—both for the bar and for you.

—

Chip Taylor was no stranger to unhealthy obsessions. His life had been a series of poor decisions and misplaced emotions, but this—this crush, or what he feared had crossed into love—was different. It was deeper, more consuming, and incredibly stupid. He wanted to believe he was incapable of falling in love after only knowing you for a month. And not just any person, but his boss. Yet here he was, his heart doing that dumb little flip every time you smiled at him, and he hated himself for it.

But what was he supposed to do? You were everything. Kind, charismatic, caring, brilliant, sexy, funny, and nonjudgmental. It wasn’t like you were just some passing fancy. You had given him a chance when no one else would. You made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t doomed to be the screw-up he’d always been. And when you found out he was living in a shelter, you didn’t blink before offering him your guest room. Free of charge.

Chip had spent a lot of nights staring at the ceiling in that guest room, wondering how the hell he ended up in the presence of someone like you. With the kind of karma he had, he should’ve ended up with someone cold, manipulative, and cruel. But instead, there you were, offering kindness he didn’t think he deserved.

But that’s where the crush—no, love—came back to bite him. It was suffocating, this unspoken feeling gnawing at him every time you were near. The worst part? He had to watch night after night as men, women, and everyone in between flirted with you. It wasn’t like he could blame them. You were magnetic. You usually laughed off the flirtations with that casual grace you had, deflecting like a pro.

But tonight… tonight was different.

There was someone—a very attractive person who seemed to catch your eye. Chip had been half-watching from his usual spot near the entrance when he noticed it. The way you drifted toward this stranger more than once. The way your laughter was a bit more genuine, your eyes a little brighter. And then you touched their arm, leaning in closer to hear whatever charming thing they were saying.

Chip felt the sharp pang of jealousy twist inside him, the kind that makes your stomach drop and your chest ache. His grip tightened on the back of the barstool, the wood creaking under his hands as he watched the interaction unfold. He knew he was neglecting his job, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away from you and that person.

It was like a slow-motion train wreck in his head. His heart clenched with every laugh you shared, every glance you shot their way. And when you touched their arm, a part of him shattered. The universe, it seemed, had a sick sense of humor.

Of course you didn’t feel the same way about him. Why would you? He was just Chip. The guy who wandered into your bar broke, desperate, and hopeless. The guy you’d kindly helped, but that didn’t mean you saw him that way. No, his karmic retribution had arrived in the form of the most amazing person he’d ever met being deposited into his life—but only so he could feel the crushing weight of wanting something he could never have.

Chip stared bitterly as you continued to smile at the stranger, his heart sinking deeper with every moment. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, cursing the universe for dangling you in front of him like a cruel joke.

Good one, universe, he thought bitterly to himself, his hands still gripping the stool as if it could keep him grounded. Real good one.

He looked away, but the ache in his chest remained. It wasn’t fair. None of this was.

As closing time rolled around, Chip’s bitterness hadn’t faded. If anything, it had intensified, simmering under the surface as he quietly went about his tasks. His mind was still replaying the way you had laughed, the way you had touched that stranger’s arm, and it stung more than he wanted to admit.

Conor, one of the other bartenders, smirked as they wiped down the counter, throwing a teasing glance your way. “You gonna let that beautiful thing take you out, boss?” They shimmied their shoulders, their grin wide and playful.

Cody, who had known you longer, joined in with a chuckle. “Yeah, girl, it’s been way too long. You should go out! You never do.”

Chip’s stomach twisted into knots as he listened, pretending to focus on stacking the chairs, though he could hear every word. His heart braced for what he expected to hear next—how excited you were, how you couldn’t wait to go on this date with the person who had flirted with you all night.

He could almost hear it now: your voice light, maybe even a little giddy, as you talked about how charming they were, how nice it would be to go out with someone after so long.

He clenched his jaw, feeling the anticipation of heartbreak wash over him as he steeled himself for the worst.

But then you laughed—soft and genuine, but not in the way Chip had feared. “Oh, please,” you said, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “You both know I’m not looking to go on dates.”

Conor raised an eyebrow, still teasing. “Oh, come on. They were totally into you! You’re really just gonna let that walk away?”

You shrugged, nonchalant. “Yeah, I’m really just gonna let that walk away. It’s not my thing right now.”

Cody shook their head with a smile, but didn’t push it further. “Well, alright, if you say so.”

Chip, who had been silently bracing for a different outcome, felt the tension in his chest ease ever so slightly. He hadn’t realized how tightly wound he’d been, how much he had feared hearing you talk about someone else with excitement.

You weren’t going on a date. You weren’t interested in that person, after all.

But then again… you weren’t interested in anyone. Not them. And definitely not him.

His relief was short-lived, replaced by the sinking realization that while you weren’t swooning over anyone else, it didn’t mean you felt anything for him either. He was still just your employee. A friend, maybe. But not anything more.

He finished stacking the chairs, his thoughts still tangled, trying to come to terms with the bittersweet mix of emotions swirling in his mind.

—

It was the middle of another shift, the bar alive with the usual chatter and clinking glasses, but Chip’s mind was far from the job. He was distracted—more than distracted. His thoughts kept looping back to you, the strangers who flirted with you, and the nagging ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away. 

He’d been on autopilot for most of the night, his interactions with customers robotic, his movements stiff. Conor, ever the observant one, had noticed.

“Hey, man,” Conor said during a rare lull, when they were both by the back counter. They leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, eyeing Chip curiously. “You’ve been off lately. What’s going on with you?”

Chip froze for a moment, his mind scrambling for a response. “I’m fine,” he muttered, glancing away and hoping Conor would drop it. 

But Conor wasn’t one to let things slide so easily. They tilted their head, narrowing their eyes. “Bullshit. You’ve been acting weird for days. Is it the job? Or… something else?”

Chip sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of the question pressing down on him. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to say it out loud because that would make it real, and the last thing he needed was more complications.

“It’s nothing,” he tried again, though his voice lacked conviction.

Conor wasn’t buying it. “Dude, we work together, like, every night. I know when something’s up. Come on, what is it? You’ve been looking like a kicked puppy for days.”

Chip hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek as he weighed whether to say anything. But the more he tried to hold it in, the more it gnawed at him, until he couldn’t keep it inside anymore.

“It’s… it’s her,” Chip finally admitted, his voice low, almost ashamed. He glanced toward the bar, where you were laughing with a regular, completely oblivious to the conversation happening in the back.

Conor raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Her? You mean… Y/N… the boss?” They glanced at you, then back at Chip, their expression a mix of curiosity and something else—concern, maybe. 

Chip nodded, running a hand over his face, feeling like an idiot for even saying it out loud. “Yeah. I know it’s stupid. I know I shouldn’t—she’s my boss. But I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s… it’s driving me crazy.”

Conor’s expression softened, and they let out a low whistle. “Ah, man. That’s rough.”

Chip scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah, tell me about it. It’s not like she’d ever go for someone like me anyway. I mean, look at her—she’s amazing. I’m just the guy she took pity on.”

Conor took a moment, looking thoughtful before they spoke again. “Look, man. I’m not gonna say it’s not complicated. She is your boss, and that makes things tricky. But…” They paused, leaning in a bit. “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.”

Chip blinked, not expecting that. “What do you mean?”

Conor shrugged. “You’re not just some random guy, Chip. You’ve been here for a while now, and she clearly cares about you. I see the way she talks to you—it’s not the same as the way she talks to everyone else.”

Chip frowned, trying to process what Conor was saying. “You really think so?”

Conor nodded. “Yeah, I do. But you’ve gotta be careful. If you’re really into her, you can’t just keep bottling it up like this. It’ll mess with your head. Maybe it’s time to feel her out—see if she’d ever be interested in someone like you. Just… be subtle. Tread carefully.”

Chip’s heart raced at the thought. The idea of making his feelings known, even subtly, terrified him. But Conor’s words sparked a tiny flicker of hope that he hadn’t let himself feel before. 

“What if she’s not?” Chip asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the fear of rejection creeping in. 

Conor gave him a sympathetic look. “Then you know, and you can move on. But if you don’t at least try, you’re gonna drive yourself insane wondering ‘what if.’”

Chip mulled that over for a moment, glancing at you again as you poured drinks, completely unaware of the storm raging in his head. Conor was right—he couldn’t keep going like this, silently pining, letting it eat him alive. He had to do something, or the weight of it would crush him.

“Maybe,” Chip muttered, half to himself. “Maybe I will.”

Conor clapped him on the shoulder, offering a reassuring grin. “That’s the spirit. Just… don’t be a dumbass about it, okay?”

Chip chuckled softly, despite the turmoil in his chest. “I’ll try not to.”

As Conor wandered back to the front, Chip remained by the counter, his thoughts swirling. The idea of letting you in on his feelings terrified him, but maybe, just maybe, there was a chance. And for the first time, Chip allowed himself to think that maybe he wasn’t completely out of your league.

The only question now was when—and how—to take that terrifying first step.

—

The night had been rough—one of those nights where everything felt like it was spiraling out of control. Rowdy customers, spilled drinks, broken glasses, and more than one argument that had to be diffused before it turned into something worse. By the time the last patron staggered out the door, the bar felt like a battlefield, and the two of you were left with the aftermath.

Chip glanced over at you as you wiped down the bar, noticing how much more subdued you were than usual. The playful energy you typically carried with you seemed drained, replaced by exhaustion that tugged at your features. You didn’t say anything at first, just sighed deeply, letting out a breath that seemed to carry the weight of the night with it.

“Man, sometimes this job really wears you down,” you muttered, your voice tired, your shoulders slumping slightly as you leaned against the bar.

Chip hesitated, watching you, feeling that tug inside him again—an overwhelming need to comfort you, to say something that might make you feel better. He’d been watching you all night, seeing how you held it together even when things got chaotic, but now that the crowd was gone, you looked more vulnerable than he’d ever seen you.

“You’re amazing at what you do,” Chip said quietly, stepping a little closer, his voice soft but sincere. “Don’t let nights like this get to you.”

You glanced at him, a small, tired smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Thanks, Chip. I try, but… it’s hard sometimes, you know?”

He nodded, unsure what to say next but wanting to fill the silence, to keep the moment from slipping away. The air between you felt different—quieter, more intimate, like the walls around both of you had come down just a little.

You sighed again, setting down the rag you’d been using to clean the counter. “I guess nights like this remind me why I don’t… go out much. Or really have a life. It’s just too much sometimes, trying to balance everything. Running this place, taking care of everyone, making sure things don’t fall apart.”

Chip blinked, taken aback by how candid you were being. He’d never heard you talk like this before. Usually, you were so in control, so confident, like nothing could rattle you. But now, standing here in the quiet aftermath of a long night, you seemed… tired. Maybe even a little lonely.

You leaned against the bar, your gaze softening as you stared at the worn wood beneath your hands. “I spend so much time here, making sure everything’s running smoothly, making sure everyone’s taken care of, that there’s just… not a lot of room left for anything else.”

Chip swallowed, his chest tightening at your words. He had wondered before why you never seemed interested in the flirtations that came your way, why you brushed off attention so easily. Now, it made sense. You weren’t uninterested in romance—you were just too busy being everything to everyone else.

“I didn’t know,” Chip said, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. “I guess I never thought about how much you have on your plate.”

You smiled, a little sad but genuine. “Yeah, well, that’s the life, right? Someone’s gotta keep this place going. And I guess I’m just used to taking care of people. I don’t mind it… but it doesn’t leave much room for… other stuff.”

Chip stood there, the weight of your words settling over him. He felt a pang of guilt for all the times he’d watched you flirt with customers and felt jealousy burn inside him. He hadn’t understood before—hadn’t realized how much you were carrying, how much you were sacrificing to keep things together.

But now, in this quiet moment, he saw you differently. Not just as the confident, flirtatious bartender who always had a smile and a witty remark, but as someone who was just as vulnerable, just as human, as anyone else. Someone who gave so much of themselves that there wasn’t much left over.

The silence between you stretched on for a moment, comfortable and filled with unspoken understanding. Chip didn’t know what to say, how to fix the exhaustion he saw in your eyes, but he wanted to offer something, anything, to let you know you weren’t alone.

“You’re really good at taking care of people,” he said softly. “But don’t forget to take care of yourself too.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a brief second, something passed between you—a quiet, shared moment that neither of you had expected. You smiled, a real smile this time, one that made Chip’s heart stutter in his chest.

“Thanks, Chip,” you said, your voice gentle, and there was something different in the way you looked at him now, something softer. “I mean it.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to say anything more, afraid of ruining the fragile connection that had just been made. He didn’t know what this moment meant—whether it changed anything between you, whether it was just a fleeting glimpse of something deeper—but it felt important.

As you both finished cleaning up, the bar seemed quieter than usual, the air between you charged with a subtle, unspoken shift. Chip walked out that night feeling closer to you than he ever had before, even if he still wasn’t sure what to do with the feelings tangled up inside him.

He felt like maybe you saw him, not just as an employee or a friend, but as someone who might be able to share a little bit of that weight you carried.

—

Chip got to work the next day extra early, sneaking into the bar while you were behind the counter, mixing drinks to prep for the evening. He didn’t want to risk bumping into you just yet—his nerves were already on edge from Conor’s advice and the conversation you two had—so he headed straight to the back. Inventory was the part of the job he knew you hated the most, so he wanted to take some of the load off for you. And… maybe if he took care of it (and you), you'd notice him in a different light. Maybe.

He was half-hidden behind stacks of bottles when Cody caught him.

“Chip?” Cody's voice rang through the storage room, followed by a soft laugh. “You know you won’t get paid for this, right?”

Chip startled, his fingers fumbling the bottle of sour mixer he was holding. It slipped from his hands, but luckily it was plastic and hit the ground with a soft thud. Still, he couldn’t help but glare at Cody, irritation mingling with embarrassment. “Your point?”

Cody leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and an amused smirk playing on their lips. “Why are you doing it, then?”

Chip exhaled sharply, setting the bottle back on the shelf with a bit more force than necessary. “Just helping out the boss,” he muttered, trying to sound casual.

“Uh-huh,” Cody dragged the words out, that knowing look never leaving their face. “Because you’re in loooove?” they teased, stretching the word out obnoxiously.

“No!” Chip squeaked, his voice shooting up a pitch. He felt his face flush instantly, and he inwardly cursed himself for the involuntary reaction. “I am not,” he added, more firmly this time, though he could hear how unconvincing it sounded even to his own ears.

Cody raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this far too much. “Uh huh. Sure, whatever you say.” They winked, their smirk widening. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. That woman is oblivious as hell, though.”

Chip’s shoulders slumped, his heart racing with a mixture of panic and frustration. “She’s not… it’s not like that,” he grumbled, though he knew Cody wasn’t buying it for a second.

“Sure, it’s not like that,” Cody teased, mimicking his tone. “Look, man, I don’t blame you. I mean, she’s great. But maybe you should stop hiding back here, doing unpaid inventory, and, you know, actually talk to her.”

Chip groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he shot Cody a half-hearted glare. “It’s not that simple.”

Cody shrugged, pushing off the wall and tossing him a sympathetic smile. “It never is. But, hey, I’m rooting for you.”

Chip watched as Cody walked out, leaving him alone with the bottles and his now much louder thoughts. Cody was right, of course, but Chip couldn’t help feeling stuck. Helping out with the busywork was a small way to get closer to you, but it wasn’t enough. 

He sighed heavily, staring at the neatly organized bottles in front of him. He knew he couldn’t keep this up, couldn’t just lurk in the background hoping you’d magically see him the way he saw you. Something had to give. But what?

Chip's question was answered moments later when you burst into the back, clearly not expecting to find anyone there. "Ah!" you screamed, your hand flying to your chest as you nearly dropped the empty glass you were holding. “Chip!” you gasped, still catching your breath. “What the hell?”

Chip jumped, just as startled. “Sorry, Y/N!” He quickly stepped forward, his own heart pounding. “I just… wanted to help. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, and I—I know you hate doing inventory, so I thought I’d, you know—” His words were tumbling out, awkward and rushed, trying desperately to explain himself.

But you cut him off with a light, melodic laugh, and the sound of it stopped him in his tracks. “You’re a very sweet man, Chip Taylor. Do you know that?”

The way you were looking at him—it was new. Different. There was something softer in your gaze, something warm, and Chip felt his pulse quicken. He liked it. No, he loved it.

He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “Just trying to help,” he said with a casual shrug, though his insides were far from calm.

You smiled again, that affectionate, teasing grin that made his heart flutter. “Well,” you said softly, “I really appreciate it, but you don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” Chip blurted, almost too quickly. He met your gaze, feeling the heat rise in his face. His words weren’t just about inventory anymore, and he wondered if you could tell.

You grinned, rolling your eyes in that way that made him feel like you were amused by his awkwardness but found it endearing all the same. Then, without warning, you stepped even closer, reaching around him to grab a bottle of vodka from the shelf behind him. In that brief moment, your chest pressed against his, and Chip was sure his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

“Thanks, Chip,” you breathed, your voice low and soft, your minty breath brushing against his skin as you pulled away slightly. For a second, he could barely think—your scent, your closeness, everything about you had him utterly captivated.

Chip felt frozen in place, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. “Yeah,” he stammered, his throat suddenly dry, “no problem.”

You gave him another warm smile, lingering just a moment longer before you took the vodka and turned to head back out to the bar. Chip stood there, still trying to process what had just happened, the lingering scent of you and the feel of your closeness imprinted in his mind.

As the door swung closed behind you, Chip let out a shaky breath, leaning against the shelf. His mind was spinning. That brief moment—your chest against his, the way your breath had ghosted across his face—felt like it had flipped a switch inside him. 

—

After that brief but electrifying moment in the backroom, Chip couldn’t help but start noticing everything you did. It was as if every little thing you did seemed loaded with meaning—whether you intended it or not.

At home, things had shifted too. It used to be that you’d take your clothes into the bathroom when you showered, emerging fully dressed and casual. But lately, it had been different. Now, you would stroll around the apartment in a tiny towel, your damp hair clinging to your neck, droplets of water glistening on your skin. And every time you did, Chip’s brain short-circuited, turning into something the size of a pea. He'd try to focus on anything else, but his gaze always drifted back to you—your bare legs, the curve of your shoulders, the way that towel seemed dangerously close to slipping.

Then there were the groceries. You came home one day with bags full of food, seemingly innocent at first glance, until Chip noticed the trend. You had brought bananas, popsicles, cucumbers—foods that were all, well… suggestive. Chip tried not to notice, he really did. But it was impossible when you were sitting across from him at the table, casually peeling a banana and slowly taking bites in the most torturous way possible. The worst part was, you seemed completely oblivious to the effect it was having on him.

And then there were the popsicles. One hot evening, after a long shift, you sat on the couch next to Chip, legs tucked under you, enjoying a cherry popsicle. The way your lips wrapped around it, the slow, deliberate licks as you savored the cold treat—it was enough to make Chip feel like he was about to combust. He tried to keep his eyes glued to the TV, pretending he wasn’t completely fixated on the way the red juice dripped down your chin, but every glance made his heart race.

One afternoon, you were in the kitchen, casually preparing a salad. Chip, seated nearby with his phone in hand, was pretending—poorly—to focus on whatever was on his screen. But the second you pulled out an enormous cucumber from the fridge, all his concentration shattered. He told himself not to look, not to pay attention, but his eyes betrayed him, drifting back to you with every movement.

You stood there at the counter, holding the cucumber with ease as you peeled it, your fingers gripping the base in a way that made his breath catch in his throat. Chip tried to remind himself it was just a vegetable. A completely innocent act. But the way you were handling it, slicing it with such careful precision, each stroke of the knife agonizingly slow—it felt like some kind of sensual tease meant only for him, though you were completely unaware of his growing torment.

His heart raced as you absentmindedly brought a slice to your lips, biting into it with a soft crunch. The way your teeth sank into the crisp flesh of the cucumber, your lips wrapping around it, made Chip’s grip on his phone tighten. His palms were sweating, and he could feel his pulse hammering in his ears. He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t stop. 

You chewed slowly, blissfully unaware of the effect you were having on him. When you reached for another slice, it was like slow motion—the way you brought it up, your tongue brushing it ever so slightly before you bit into it again. The movement was subtle, but it sent a jolt through Chip that he struggled to suppress.

He swallowed hard, trying to shift his attention back to his phone, but it was useless. His entire focus was on you—on the way your fingers held the cucumber, on the soft sigh that escaped your lips as you savored the taste, on the way your eyes remained distant, clearly lost in thought while he was trapped in his own private torment.

Then, as if to push him further into the abyss, you grabbed the entire cucumber in your hand again, taking a bite straight from it. Chip's mind went blank, his breath hitching as he watched your lips part, teeth sinking into the cucumber’s firm flesh, your lips lingering just a bit longer than necessary. 

Completely unaware of his wide-eyed stare, you chewed thoughtfully, then shot him a playful grin, wiping juice from the corner of your mouth. "Want some?" you asked innocently, holding up a slice.

Chip nearly choked, his mind reeling. “Uh, no. I’m—uh, I’m good,” he stammered, his voice strangled with tension.

You shrugged, your smile casual and sweet. “Suit yourself,” you replied, popping another slice into your mouth with a satisfied hum.

Chip, feeling like he was about to combust, swallowed hard and forced himself to look away, but the image of your lips on that cucumber, the soft bite, the way your eyes sparkled without a hint of understanding of what you were doing to him—it was seared into his mind.

And he knew—there was no escaping this.

Before work one evening, you casually announced that you were trying a new stretching routine. Chip had been lounging on the couch, trying to unwind after the shift, but when you spread out a yoga mat right in front of him, his entire focus shifted.

You didn’t seem to notice his sudden tension as you knelt down and began stretching, starting with simple movements. But it wasn’t long before you bent forward, your fingers sliding toward your toes, your back arching as you stretched deeper. Chip’s breath caught in his throat as he watched, his heart hammering in his chest.

Your bottoms hugged every curve, and as you stretched, the material pulled tighter, highlighting the shape of your hips, the dip of your waist, and the way your legs seemed to go on forever. The soft sighs you let out with each motion—small sounds of exertion—sent shivers down his spine. 

Chip tried desperately not to look, to focus on the TV, on his phone, on anything else, but it was impossible. The sight of you in front of him, completely absorbed in your routine, was maddening. Every movement seemed deliberate, sensual, though you had no idea what you were doing to him.

You moved into a deeper stretch, bending down again, this time with your legs spread slightly apart. Chip’s pulse quickened, his fingers gripping the edge of the couch as he fought to keep himself calm. The way your body moved, so fluid, so confident, had him mesmerized.

And then you shifted into a backbend, your body arching gracefully, your chest rising, the soft line of your neck exposed. You groaned softly, a sound of satisfaction from the stretch, but to Chip, it was something else entirely—a sound that sent heat flooding through his veins.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, his pulse racing in his ears. His mind was spinning, trying to reign in his thoughts, but the way your body curved, the way your breathing deepened, was driving him wild. Every inch of you was in his line of sight, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop staring. 

You looked up at him briefly, giving him an innocent smile as you reached for your toes again. “You should try this sometime, Chip,” you said, completely oblivious to the chaos in his head. “It’s a great way to relax.”

Chip could barely respond, his throat tight. “Y-yeah, maybe,” he managed to croak, though the last thing he felt was relaxed. His body was tense, every muscle wound tight as he sat there, barely able to breathe, knowing that if you kept this up any longer, he might just lose his mind.

As you continued your stretches, Chip’s gaze flicked over every inch of you, burning with desire he couldn’t control, and he knew, deep down, that this slow torture couldn’t last much longer. Something had to give.

—

Later that week at the bar, Chip’s jealousy was reaching a boiling point. He had been dealing with it quietly for weeks now, keeping it buried beneath the surface as best as he could, but tonight was different. Someone had started flirting with you again—a regular, someone smooth and confident, who clearly knew what they were doing. And unlike all the other times, this time you seemed more receptive. Even if it was just for a brief moment, you laughed at their jokes, leaned in a little closer, your smile warmer than it usually was with other customers.

Chip could feel his stomach twist with bitterness, his jaw tightening as he tried to stay focused on his work. But he couldn’t. His eyes kept drifting back to you, watching as you exchanged banter with the customer, completely unaware of how much it was tearing him apart inside. 

For weeks, you’d been teasing him—whether you knew it or not—walking around the apartment in towels, eating suggestive foods, brushing up against him, filling his mind with all kinds of thoughts. And now this? Flirting with someone else right in front of him? It felt like a punch to the gut.

As the night went on, Chip found himself pulling away, becoming more distant, his usual tasks done with robotic efficiency but none of his usual energy. He stayed out of sight as much as possible, avoiding you, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He couldn’t bring himself to be around you right now, not when his feelings were so close to breaking free.

After the bar finally closed and the last of the patrons trickled out, you noticed the shift in him. You wiped down the last of the counters, glancing over at Chip as he quietly stacked chairs, avoiding eye contact. Something was off.

“Chip?” you called out softly as you approached him. “You’ve been acting weird tonight. What’s going on?”

Chip didn’t look up, muttering a quick, “Nothing.”

You frowned, stepping closer and gently grabbing his arm. “I know that’s not true,” you said softly, your voice tinged with concern. “Are you okay?”

Chip flinched at your touch, a surge of frustration boiling over. He could feel it all bubbling to the surface, and before he could stop himself, the words spilled out. “It’s just… it’s hard watching everyone else flirt with you all the time.”

His voice was low, almost bitter, and it surprised even him how much emotion was packed into that one sentence. He finally looked at you, his eyes dark with something more than just jealousy.

You blinked, clearly taken aback by his confession. “Chip…” you started, your brows knitting together in confusion. “That’s just part of the job. It doesn’t mean anything.”

But Chip wasn’t convinced. He shook his head, his frustration seeping through. “Does it ever mean anything to you?”

Your breath caught for a second, surprised by the intensity in his question. You hadn’t seen just how much all the casual flirting, all the little interactions with customers, had been affecting him. You’d always seen it as part of the business, part of keeping the bar running smoothly. But Chip wasn’t just a customer. He wasn’t just another person passing through.

You let go of his arm, your expression softening as you took in the frustration in his voice, the way he was holding so much back. “Chip, I don’t know…” you started softly. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rough, his walls crumbling down as all the emotions he had been holding back started to bleed through. 

For a moment, the silence hung heavy between you, the air thick with unspoken words and the tension that had been simmering between you both for weeks. You were seeing him in a new light—one filled with longing, frustration, and something deeper. Something that had been building up inside Chip for a while, and it was clear he couldn’t keep it locked away any longer.

He looked away, unable to meet your eyes, his voice softening with vulnerability. For the first time, you saw just how much you’d affected him. You weren’t sure what to say next, how to navigate the mess of emotions swirling between you two, but one thing was clear: this wasn’t just about flirting anymore. This was about something much deeper, and now it was out in the open, there was no turning back.

—

Feeling that his crush on you had become unbearable, Chip found himself standing in the back room of the bar, leaning against the shelves as his thoughts spiraled. Every night seemed worse than the last. Every time you smiled at someone else, laughed at their jokes, or leaned in a little too close to a customer, Chip felt something twist painfully in his chest. It had become too much. His feelings were no longer a crush—they were an anchor, weighing him down, making him feel like he couldn’t breathe in the same room as you.

The problem was, these feelings were starting to get in the way of his work. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t pretend to just be your employee anymore. How could he when his heart was tangled up in you? Watching you flirt with customers, even in the most harmless way, made him feel like he was drowning. And worse—it wasn’t your fault. You were just doing your job, being yourself. But the jealousy, the frustration, the hopeless longing were making it impossible for him to do his.

And it wasn’t just at work anymore. At home, things had changed too. Chip had noticed that lately, you seemed more careful around him. For a while, you had been casual, carefree—walking around in towels, making playful jokes, teasing him without a second thought. But now? Now, there was an unspoken tension in the air between you. It was subtle, but Chip could feel it. You no longer strolled around the apartment with the same lightness, no longer lingered in the kitchen wearing nothing but a towel after a shower. You’d take your clothes into the bathroom again, your playful banter tinged with something more reserved, more cautious. 

It was like you could sense something had shifted in him, and in response, you’d adjusted too. Maybe you hadn’t realized just how much he was struggling with his feelings, but you’d picked up on something. And that made everything worse. The easy comfort of being roommates had vanished, replaced by a growing awkwardness that gnawed at Chip constantly.

He couldn’t escape it. Not at work, where he had to watch you be charming and kind to everyone else. And not at home, where your sudden carefulness only reminded him of how complicated things had become. It was like he was trapped, unable to breathe, unable to think of anything but you and the growing distance between you.

It was too much. The weight of it was suffocating.

He couldn’t keep living like this.

So, the only option he saw was to leave. If he couldn’t have you—if you’d never look at him the way he looked at you—then maybe he needed to get out before it broke him completely. The idea of walking away felt like a fresh cut, sharp and deep, but staying felt like a slow, agonizing burn. 

Cody and Conor were chatting by the bar, laughing about something when Chip walked up, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Conor was the first to notice Chip’s demeanor and raised an eyebrow.

“Whoa, man. You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Conor teased, though there was concern in his voice. “What’s going on?”

Chip sighed, running a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. “I… I think I’m gonna quit.”

Cody stopped mid-laugh, their smile fading as they blinked at him in surprise. “Wait, what?”

Conor frowned, crossing their arms. “Man, you can’t just drop that on us. What the hell’s going on?”

Chip swallowed hard, his throat dry. He hadn’t wanted to admit how much he was struggling, but he couldn’t keep this to himself anymore. “It’s just—my feelings. For her. It’s getting in the way of everything. I can’t… I can’t do it anymore. Every night, it feels like I’m watching her with other people, and it’s driving me crazy. I don’t want to feel this way, but I do. And I think the only way to stop it is to leave.”

Cody exchanged a glance with Conor before stepping closer to Chip, their expression softer now. “Chip, I get it. Believe me, I do. But quitting your job because of it? That’s a big decision.”

Conor nodded, their playful demeanor gone as they looked at Chip seriously. “You’ve gotta think carefully about this, man. You’re not just giving up a job—you’re giving up on being around her completely. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

Chip felt his heart ache at the thought of not seeing you anymore, not hearing your laugh or seeing your smile every night. But at the same time, he didn’t know how much longer he could take the constant emotional rollercoaster of wanting something that seemed impossible. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” he admitted, his voice strained. “But I don’t think I can stay and keep feeling like this. It’s tearing me apart.”

Cody sighed, placing a hand on Chip’s shoulder. “Look, man, we’re not telling you what to do, but maybe don’t make any rash decisions just yet. Take some time to really think about it. If you leave now, it might hurt just as much as staying does.”

“Yeah,” Conor added, “and finding another job won’t necessarily fix how you feel. Your heart’s wrapped up in this. It’s not gonna just go away because you work somewhere else.”

Chip nodded, knowing deep down they were right. It wasn’t just the job—it was you. His heart was tangled up in you, and no matter where he went, those feelings weren’t going to magically disappear. Still, the thought of staying felt unbearable, and he couldn’t shake the idea of leaving, of starting over somewhere where he wouldn’t have to feel like this every day.

“I’ve even started looking for other jobs,” Chip muttered, his voice quiet. “Just to see if there’s anything else out there. Something to distract me from… this.”

Cody sighed, glancing at Conor before turning back to Chip. “Look, maybe there’s another way. Have you thought about… I don’t know… talking to her? Telling her how you feel?”

Chip shook his head, his face a mask of pain. “I can’t. She’s my boss, my roommate. It would just make things weird. I don’t want to mess things up even more.”

Conor raised an eyebrow. “Weirder than you quitting out of nowhere without explaining why? Where would you live then?”

Chip bit his lip, his hands balling into fists as he stared at the floor. He hadn’t thought about it like that. Leaving without saying anything would raise questions. It would leave things unresolved. 

Cody squeezed his shoulder gently. “Just… think about it, okay? Don’t do anything you’ll regret later. Talk to her if you can. And if it’s really too much to handle, we’ll support whatever decision you make.”

Cody and Conor had noticed things changing between you and Chip for a while now. They weren’t blind to the way Chip had started acting—more distant, more withdrawn, especially when you were around. His mood had shifted, and while he was still doing his job, there was a tension between the two of you that hadn’t been there before. 

And now, with Chip thinking about quitting, they couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was more to the story—something you hadn’t said yet.

It was a quiet afternoon at the bar, just before the evening rush. You were behind the counter, absentmindedly polishing glasses, and Cody and Conor shared a look before they approached. They weren’t going to be obvious, but they needed to get a feel for where your head was at when it came to Chip.

Conor leaned against the counter first, flashing you a playful grin. “So, boss, how’s it going with our boy Chip lately? He’s been acting a little off, don’t you think?”

You glanced up, your brow furrowing slightly as you met Conor’s eyes. “Yeah, I’ve noticed,” you admitted, setting down the glass you were working on. “I don’t know what’s going on with him. He’s been so… distant. Different.”

Cody, leaning on the bar next to Conor, raised an eyebrow, watching your reaction closely. “Different how?” they asked casually, though there was a clear curiosity in their voice.

You shrugged, not entirely sure how to explain it. “I don’t know… He just seems quieter lately. I’ve tried asking him if he’s okay, but he always brushes it off, says he’s fine. But it doesn’t feel like he is.”

Conor exchanged a quick glance with Cody before turning back to you. “You think maybe it’s something to do with work? Or… maybe something else?”

You paused for a moment, considering the question. Chip had been acting strange both at work and at home, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. “I don’t know. I mean, he’s been fine at work, mostly, just a little more distracted than usual. And at home… well, it feels like things are weird there too. Like there’s some kind of… tension between us. But I don’t know why.”

Cody leaned in a little closer, their tone softer now, as if they were testing the waters. “Tension? Like what kind of tension? You think maybe Chip’s feeling some kind of way about you?”

Your eyes widened slightly at the implication, blinking in surprise. “What? No, I mean… why would he?” You laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it now. “We’re just friends. Roommates. He’s probably just going through something.”

Conor smirked, crossing their arms and leaning in a little closer. “Maybe. But we’ve seen the way he looks at you, you know? Kind of seems like there’s more there…”

You hesitated, feeling a flicker of uncertainty at their words. You’d noticed Chip acting strange, sure, but you hadn’t really considered the idea that it might be because of you. “I don’t know,” you said, a little quieter now. “He’s never said anything like that to me.”

“Yeah, well,” Cody said with a knowing smile, “sometimes guys don’t say stuff like that because they’re scared of messing things up. But, I mean, if he did feel that way… how would you feel about it?”

You looked between Cody and Conor, realizing they weren’t just casually asking anymore. They were digging, trying to gauge your reaction, and it left you feeling a little off-balance. “I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “He’s an amazing person, but…”

Conor raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to finish. “But?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “But he’s never made a move, you know? We’ve been living together for a while, and I guess there have been a few times when I thought he might say something. Maybe he wanted something more, but he never opens up. I never know what he’s thinking.”

Cody nodded, a knowing look in their eyes. “Yeah, that sounds like Chip. He’s got a lot going on in that head of his, but he keeps it all bottled up. Doesn’t make it easy to figure out what he wants.”

Conor leaned in a little closer, lowering their voice. “But here’s the thing—you probably know him better than anyone. You’ve seen the way he is when he’s comfortable, and when he’s not. And if you’ve felt those moments—those times when you thought he might say something—well, chances are, he’s felt them too.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, thinking back to those moments. The times when you caught him looking at you a second too long, or when he seemed to shy away from getting too close. The way he acted differently around you lately, quieter, more distant, like he was trying to avoid something. Or maybe trying to avoid you.

“I just don’t get it,” you admitted, shaking your head. “If he feels something, why doesn’t he say anything? Why pull away?”

Cody smiled sympathetically. “Fear, probably. He’s scared of messing things up between you two. I mean, think about it—you’re his boss, his roommate, his friend. That’s a lot to risk if he’s worried it’s not mutual.”

Conor added, “And from what I’ve seen, it’s eating him up. Dude’s been in a weird headspace lately. He probably thinks if he says something, it’ll make things weird or worse, so instead he just… suffers in silence.”

You exhaled heavily, feeling the weight of their words settle over you. Maybe you’d been missing something, maybe Chip had been struggling with this for longer than you realized. But if he wasn’t going to say anything, if he was just going to pull away, what could you do?

“Should I… talk to him?” you asked hesitantly, unsure of how to approach something like this. It wasn’t like you could just march up to him and demand he tell you how he felt.

Cody gave you an encouraging nod. “I think you should. Just be honest with him. If you care about him—and I know you do—then don’t let this thing fester. He’s not going to be the one to start that conversation, so it’s gotta be you.”

You nodded slowly, feeling a swirl of emotions you weren’t entirely ready to confront. It was one thing to speculate about Chip’s feelings, but if you were going to talk to him—if you were going to open this door—then you’d have to be ready for what might come next.

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice firm but uncertain. “I’ll talk to him. I just hope I’m not too late.”

Conor patted your shoulder, flashing you a supportive grin. “You’re not. Just don’t wait too long. Chip’s a good guy, but he seems like he might have a habit of retreating when things get hard. You don’t want to lose him.”

As they walked away, leaving you alone to process everything, you found yourself staring at the empty bar, your thoughts circling back to Chip. Maybe you had missed something, maybe you hadn’t been paying close enough attention. But one thing was certain—things couldn’t go on like this. Something had to change, and soon.

—

It was late, the bar now silent after the last customer had trickled out into the night. The air was still, thick with the smell of spilled drinks and fading laughter, but it was peaceful in a way that only came after a long shift. You wiped down the last glass, casting a glance over at Chip as he finished stacking the chairs. 

“Hey, Chip,” you called softly, breaking the quiet, “how about we have a drink before heading home?”

Chip hesitated, surprised by the offer. His heart leapt into his throat, immediately overthinking every possible implication. You just wanted to relax, he told himself. It was just a drink, no big deal. Still, he was nervous. Too nervous, given the circumstances. But after a second, he nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice.”

You smiled at him, that easy, genuine smile that always seemed to put him at ease, and it made his stomach twist with all the feelings he’d been trying to keep buried. He followed you to the back of the bar, where it was quieter, and you grabbed two beers from the cooler, handing one to him as you sat down at one of the small, dimly lit tables. 

The two of you clinked your bottles together lightly, the gesture casual, but Chip could feel the tension thrumming in his chest. He took a sip, trying to settle his nerves as you both sat in comfortable silence for a few moments.

“So,” you began after a while, your voice soft but curious, “how’ve you been? I mean, really been? I feel like we haven’t talked much lately.”

Chip blinked, caught off guard by the question. He swallowed, his fingers tightening around the neck of the beer bottle. “Uh, I’ve been… okay, I guess,” he said, trying to sound neutral, though his voice faltered slightly. 

You tilted your head, giving him that look that told him you could see right through him. “Come on, Chip. I know you better than that.”

Chip looked down, the familiar feeling of guilt creeping up on him. He knew he hadn’t been the same, but how could he explain that it was all because of you? That every time he saw you, every time you smiled or laughed, it felt like his heart was being ripped in two? He couldn’t tell you that—not completely. Not yet.

“I’ve just been… dealing with some stuff,” he finally admitted, his voice quieter now. “Got a lot on my mind.”

You nodded, sipping your beer thoughtfully. “I get that. We all have our moments, right? But if there’s something going on, you know you can talk to me, right? I care about you, Chip.”

Chip felt his heart clench at your words. The way you said it—I care about you—it was so simple, so kind, but it only reminded him of what he couldn’t have. He took a deep breath, deciding to let a little bit of his guard down. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking a lot about the future, I guess. What I’m doing here. What I want to be doing. And sometimes, it feels like I’m stuck.”

You leaned in slightly, your eyes soft with understanding. “I’ve felt the same way a lot over the years. Like, what am I doing here? Where am I going? It’s hard to figure out sometimes, especially when things feel complicated.”

Chip glanced at you, surprised at your openness. “You seem like you have it all figured out,” Chip said, his tone slightly teasing but genuine. “Running this place, handling everything so well. I’ve always admired that about you.”

You smiled, a little sadly. “Thanks, Chip, but trust me, I don’t have it all figured out. Sometimes I’m just as lost as anyone else. I just try not to let it show too much.”

There was a pause, a comfortable silence settling between you two as you both sipped your beers, each lost in your own thoughts. The conversation was quieter now, but there was an ease to it, a closeness that hadn’t been there before. 

After a few more minutes of silence, you set your beer down and looked at Chip, your expression shifting slightly, more serious now. “Chip,” you began, your voice softer, more hesitant, “can I ask you something?”

He glanced up at you, his heart immediately jumping into his throat again. “Yeah, of course.”

You bit your lip, seeming to choose your words carefully before finally asking, “How do you feel about me?”

Chip froze. His heart pounded in his chest, his pulse loud in his ears. This was it. The moment he’d been avoiding, the conversation he’d been dreading and longing for all at once. His hands tightened around the bottle, and for a second, he wasn’t sure if he could find the words. But he couldn’t avoid it any longer. 

“I—” He hesitated, feeling the weight of the question settle heavily over him. He could feel your eyes on him, waiting for an answer, and he knew he had to give you one. “I care about you. A lot. More than I should.”

Your brow furrowed slightly. “More than you should?”

Chip took a deep breath, his throat tight. “Yeah. You’re my boss, and my friend, and… I don’t want to mess things up between us. But it’s been hard. Really hard. I’ve been trying to ignore it, to push it down, but it’s just—” He paused, searching for the right words. “It’s hard watching you, being around you, and not being able to say anything. Because I know it’ll change things, and I don’t want to ruin what we have. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel the way I do.”

There it was. Not a full confession, but enough to crack open the wall he’d been hiding behind. Enough to give you a glimpse into how much he’d been struggling with his feelings for you.

You sat back, processing his words, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy, filled with everything that had been left unsaid for weeks, months. Finally, you let out a soft breath, your gaze meeting his.

“I didn’t realize,” you said gently. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Chip nodded, his eyes downcast. “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything. I didn’t want to make things weird.”

You were quiet for a moment longer before you spoke again, your voice softer now. “Things aren’t weird, Chip. Not for me. I just… I wish you would’ve told me sooner.”

Chip looked up at you, his heart racing. There was something in your voice, something in the way you were looking at him that made him think, for the first time, that maybe he hadn’t been wrong to feel the way he did. Maybe there was more between you than just friendship and work. Maybe things weren’t as impossible as he’d thought.

"Why?" Chip asked, his voice barely above a whisper, uncertainty lacing every syllable. His heart pounded in his chest, torn between hope and the fear of misunderstanding everything.

You smiled softly, and in that moment, Chip felt the world shift, the air between you charged with something different—something real. Your eyes met his, filled with a warmth and sincerity he hadn’t allowed himself to believe was possible.

“Because then I could have told you sooner that I feel the same way,” you said, your voice gentle but sure.

Chip stared at you, his mind struggling to catch up with what you’d just said. Feel the same way? His heart skipped a beat, his pulse thundering in his ears as your words sank in. He had spent so long convincing himself that you were out of reach, that his feelings were one-sided, a hopeless crush he’d never be able to confess.

But now—now—you were looking at him with that soft, genuine smile, and everything he’d been holding back for so long felt like it was about to come crashing down. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of it all. “What… what way do you feel?” he asked, his voice quiet, filled with disbelief. He needed to hear it again, just to be sure, just to know this wasn’t a dream or some misunderstanding.

You grinned, the warmth in your eyes making his pulse race even faster. “I really like you, Chip,” you said softly, your voice steady but filled with affection. “And right now, I really want to kiss you.”

Chip’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening as the words hit him with full force. His heart seemed to skip a beat, the reality of the moment sinking in. He had imagined this—dreamt about it, wished for it—but hearing it, actually hearing it, was something entirely different.

“You… you do?” he stammered, the disbelief still lingering even as his heart swelled with hope.

You nodded, stepping closer, closing the space between you. “Yeah, Chip. I do.”

The air between you was charged now, thick with anticipation and a tension that had been building for so long. He could feel the warmth radiating from you, the soft hum of something electric as your gaze held his. His mind was still spinning, but there was no mistaking the look in your eyes, the way your lips curved into that gentle, inviting smile.

For once, Chip didn’t overthink it. He didn’t retreat into his head or worry about the consequences. He didn’t think about you being his boss, his roommate, or the fear that had kept him silent for so long. All he could think about was you—standing there, telling him you felt the same way he had for so long.

So, without another word, Chip leaned in, his breath shaky but his heart certain. His lips brushed yours, tentative at first, like he was testing the waters. But the moment your lips touched, everything fell into place. The hesitation melted away, and Chip deepened the kiss, his hand gently reaching up to cup your cheek as he pulled you closer.

The kiss was soft, tender, but filled with everything you both had held back for so long. It was like a floodgate had opened, all the emotions, the longing, the unsaid words finally spilling out in that one moment. Chip couldn’t believe it was happening—that after all this time, you wanted this too.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead resting against his, you were both slightly breathless, a quiet, giddy laughter bubbling between you.

“I can’t believe we waited so long to do that,” you whispered, your hand still resting on his arm.

Chip smiled, his heart still racing. “I can’t believe this is real.”

You chuckled softly, your thumb brushing gently over his arm. “It’s real, Chip.”

You both stood there for a moment, the weight of everything that had been unsaid between you now lifted, leaving only the warmth of something new, something real. Chip felt lighter than he had in weeks, months, honestly ever. 

He smiled softly at you, his voice filled with quiet sincerity as he whispered, “I think I want to kiss you again.” 

And when you smiled, leaning in for another kiss, it felt like the start of something he’d been waiting for all along.

But this next kiss was different. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was filled with the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long, finally unleashed. You gripped his biceps, feeling the strength you’d been secretly drooling over for months, your fingers curling around the muscle as if you couldn’t get close enough. 

Chip’s hands slid down to your hips, and with a sudden, heated movement, he yanked you into his lap. The shift was quick, fluid, and before you could even react, you were straddling him, your chest pressed against his, the air between you charged with a hunger that neither of you could deny anymore.

“Whoa, there, cowboy,” you laughed breathlessly, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, your lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss. Your hands stayed on his arms, but your body trembled with excitement, anticipation coursing through your veins.

Chip grinned, that boyish, almost shy smile you’d grown so fond of breaking through the lustful haze in his eyes. “Sorry, got a little carried away,” he murmured, though his hands stayed firm on your hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

You laughed again, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “I didn’t say I minded,” you teased, leaning back in, your lips brushing his with just enough pressure to drive him wild. You could feel his heartbeat under your palms, could sense the way he was holding back, still cautious despite the fire burning between you.

Chip groaned softly, the sound vibrating between your lips as his hands tightened on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “You’re making it really hard to behave,” he whispered against your mouth, his breath warm and ragged, sending shivers down your spine.

“Who said I want you to behave?” you whispered back, the words sending a surge of heat through him. You could feel him tense beneath you, his grip on your hips tightening as he kissed you again, this time with more urgency, more need.

Your hands slipped from his biceps to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss as you let yourself melt into him, the heat between you intensifying with every second. Chip’s hands roamed from your hips, sliding down to your ass, his grip firm, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

The bar was quiet, the world outside forgotten as the two of you lost yourselves in each other, in the kiss that had been building for so long. It was like the floodgates had opened, all the pent-up tension, the unsaid words, the longing finally released in this moment.

And as you kissed him again, his lips soft yet demanding against yours, you realized just how much you had wanted this—how much you had wanted him. 

“God, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Chip murmured between kisses, his voice low and rough, sending another thrill through you.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, your heart racing. “Me too, Chip,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. 

When your fingers crept up the bottom of Chip’s shirt, brushing against his skin and tangling in the soft hair on his stomach, you felt him shiver under your touch. His breath hitched, and for a brief moment, he seemed to freeze. His hands, which had been resting firmly on your ass, loosened slightly as if his mind caught up to what was happening.

“We—um, we probably shouldn’t do this here? Right?” Chip's voice was shaky, caught between desire and hesitation, his words more a question than a statement. 

You paused, leaning back just enough to look at him, the playful gleam still shining in your eyes. “My bar, my rules,” you whispered, your voice dripping with mischief. Without giving him time to respond, you leaned forward, licking a slow, deliberate line up the side of his neck, feeling the way he trembled under your lips.

Chip let out a low groan, his eyes fluttering shut as your teeth dug into the sensitive skin of his neck. He gripped you tighter, trying to catch his breath, his mind spinning. The line between right and wrong blurred as the heat between you intensified. 

He swallowed hard, as his thoughts unraveled with every kiss, every bite, the world outside forgotten as your lips sent electricity coursing through him. Your teeth scraped lightly against his neck again, making him gasp, his body arching beneath you. He felt like he was losing himself in you, in this moment, and he wasn’t sure he cared anymore. The tension, the need that had built up for so long was too much to ignore now.

"Fuck," Chip groaned lowly as you finally settled fully on his lap, his body responding instantly to the pressure of you pressed so intimately against him. You could feel just how much he wanted this, wanted you, his breath hitching as his hands gripped your hips tighter, trying to steady himself.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “You gonna let me take care of you, Chip?” Your voice was soft, sweet, but dripping with a seductive promise that made his head spin. 

For a moment, Chip couldn’t think—his mind spiraling as your words sank in. Take care of him. All he’d ever wanted was for someone to see him, to really see him, and care about him in the way you were offering. It was overwhelming, the idea that you could feel this way about him, that you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

His chest tightened, a mixture of desire and something deeper bubbling up inside him. He nodded slowly, his voice hoarse when he finally spoke. “Yeah… yeah, I want that.” His words were barely audible, filled with need and vulnerability all at once.

You grinned, your lips brushing against his neck again as your hands slid up his chest, feeling the way his heart pounded beneath your fingertips. "Good," you whispered, your tone filled with a confidence that sent a shiver down his spine. "Just relax. Let me take care of you."

Chip swallowed hard, his body trembling slightly as he let go of the tension he'd been holding onto for so long. He felt your hands on him, the warmth of your body pressed against his, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t feel like he had to hold back. He didn’t feel like he had to be in control or guard himself.

You moved against him slowly, teasingly, your body swaying in just the right way to make him lose all sense of restraint. Chip’s breath came in ragged gasps, his hands clutching at your waist, his mind lost in the haze of sensation. The idea that you wanted to take care of him—him—felt unreal, like a fantasy he'd never dared to hope for.

“God, you feel so good,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire as you rocked against him, his head falling back as he gave in completely. 

You smiled, feeling the heat of the moment rise as you saw just how much you were affecting him, how vulnerable he was beneath you, how completely lost he was in the feeling of being wanted. You leaned in close, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “I can make you feel a whole lot better.”

Chip blinked, confusion flashing in his eyes as he tried to process your words. His brow furrowed, and before he could even ask what you meant, you were climbing off his lap. He squawked in protest, his hands instinctively reaching for you, not wanting the moment to end.

But any protest he had died on his lips when he saw what you were doing.

Your knees hit the floor, and his heart nearly stopped. His breath hitched in his throat, his entire body freezing as he watched you kneel between his legs. The sight of you looking up at him, that wicked, playful glint in your eyes, made his mind spin. He couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe what you were about to do.

Your hand slid over him, pressing firmly through the denim of his jeans, and Chip’s breath left him in a shaky exhale. His hands clenched the arms of the chair as he looked down at you, his pulse roaring in his ears. The feel of your touch, even through the fabric, sent a jolt of electricity through his entire body.

“Y/N…” Chip breathed, his voice breaking as his mind struggled to catch up with what was happening. He wanted to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come. His body reacted before his mind could, his hips shifting under your hand as he swallowed hard, his throat tight with anticipation.

You grinned up at him, your hand moving slowly, teasingly, as you kept your gaze locked on his. You could see the way his breath quickened, the way his body tensed, completely at your mercy. "Relax," you whispered, your voice soft and commanding all at once.

Chip could only nod, his mind spinning as he let go of the last shred of control he had. He watched you, unable to look away, as your fingers began working on the button of his jeans, the sound of the zipper echoing in the quiet room. His breath caught in his throat as your hand slipped beneath the fabric, the feel of your skin on his sending a shockwave of desire through him.

This was what he had wanted—what he had dreamed of for so long. But now that it was happening, it was almost too much, too overwhelming, and yet, he couldn’t imagine anything more perfect. 

Of course, everything intensified when you pulled him completely free from his jeans, the fabric sliding down his hips as you worked with deliberate care. Chip’s breath hitched in disbelief as you wasted no time, nuzzling in at the base of him with a teasing smile, your warm breath against his skin sending a shockwave of sensation through him. His hands gripped the arms of the chair tighter, his knuckles turning white as he tried to process what was happening.

He couldn’t believe his luck. This—this—wasn’t something that ever happened to him. He was usually the one giving, always wanting to please, whether or not he wanted to receive in return. But now, you were turning everything on its head, taking control in a way that left him utterly helpless and overwhelmed with pleasure.

His mind raced, torn between the urge to let go completely and the instinct to pull back, but the moment your lips brushed against him, soft and teasing, any thought of retreat vanished. His body betrayed him, responding instantly, hips jerking slightly as a low groan escaped his throat.

"Fuck," Chip muttered, the word drawn out, his voice rough with desire. His head fell back against the chair, his mind clouded with the heat of the moment, the feel of your hands, your mouth, completely undoing him.

You looked up at him, your eyes locking onto his as you moved slowly, deliberately, taking your time as if savoring every second. The sight of you kneeling before him, your lips teasing, your hands firm but gentle, was enough to drive him wild. His heart pounded in his chest, his pulse racing as you took him further, inch by inch, your touch making it impossible for him to think straight.

Chip’s breathing grew ragged, his fingers flexing uselessly on the chair, trying to find something—anything—to hold onto as you worked him over. He could barely string a thought together, his mind reduced to a haze of pure sensation, and it took everything in him not to lose himself entirely.

“You’re… you’re really doing this,” he mumbled, his voice breathless, as though he still couldn’t believe it was real. And, God, he didn’t want you to stop. 

You smiled up at him, your eyes gleaming with mischief as your hand tightened around him, sending a fresh wave of sensation crashing through his body. "And you taste really good," you teased, your voice low and sultry, laced with a sweetness that made Chip’s breath stutter in his chest.

Before he could even process your words, you leaned back in, this time with a newfound determination. You wasted no time, your mouth enveloping him in a way that sent his mind spiraling into a dizzying blur of pleasure. Chip’s body tensed, a strangled moan escaping his lips as he leaned his head back against the chair, gripping the edges so hard his knuckles turned white.

It felt like his brain was melting, the heat of your mouth, the way you moved with deliberate, agonizing precision, unraveling him inch by inch. His vision blurred, his breath coming in ragged gasps, each one more desperate than the last. Every sensation, every touch, was heightened, the world around him fading away until all he could feel, all he could think about, was you.

You were relentless, going to town on him like you were on a mission, and Chip could do nothing but surrender to the waves of pleasure rolling through him. His hips bucked involuntarily as you worked him over, your lips, your tongue, moving in perfect sync with your hand. It was almost too much, and yet, not enough all at once. He couldn’t get enough of you.

"Fuck," he groaned the only word he seemed to remember, his voice rough, almost breaking as you pulled another shiver from deep within him. His mind was gone, lost somewhere between reality and bliss, his only tether to this world the sensation of your mouth on him. 

Chip was falling apart, his body trembling under your expert touch, and the more you moved, the more he let go. Every moan, every gasp, every choked sound he made only seemed to spur you on, pushing him further and further until he was right on the edge, teetering dangerously close to losing himself completely.

He didn’t care anymore if he was too loud, didn’t care if the world outside the bar was still spinning. He could barely even remember where he was, his entire existence narrowed down to this one moment, to you, to the way you made him feel like he was coming undone at the seams.

It was overwhelming, the pleasure hitting him like a tidal wave, crashing over him in relentless waves until all he could do was let go. His hands fumbled for purchase, his fingers tangling in your hair as he groaned your name, the sound breaking off into a desperate plea as you pushed him closer, and closer to the edge.

And when Chip finally couldn’t take it anymore, when the pressure that had been building inside him finally broke, his body tensed, and a low, guttural moan escaped his throat. His voice was thick with desperation as he warned, "I’m going to come—"

But before he could get there, you pulled away suddenly, your hand gripping him firmly at the base, cutting off all sensation. His entire body jolted, and a broken, frustrated cry tore from his lips. "Why?!" he whined, his eyes wide, desperate, and full of disbelief.

You smirked, your voice teasing yet full of promise as you whispered, “Because I’m not done with you.”

Chip's frustration was palpable, his body still thrumming with need, every muscle coiled tight as he struggled to recover from the abrupt stop. But the moment he saw you rise to your feet, that playful gleam still in your eyes, and begin to slowly remove your top, his breath caught in his throat. 

His eyes widened as you peeled away the fabric, revealing your skin inch by inch, and the irritation that had been burning inside him vanished in an instant. Instead, all he could do was stare, his gaze locked on you, completely entranced. The soft glow of the dim lights in the bar cast a warm glow over your skin, and Chip's heart raced in his chest as he took in every detail.

"Fuck..." he breathed, his voice a low rasp, filled with awe and desire. The sight of you—standing there, unashamed, confident, and wanting him—was enough to make his mind go blank all over again.

“Do you know any other words, honey? Or are you fucked stupid already?” you teased, your voice dripping with playful dominance as you hovered over him. The wicked grin on your face sent a shiver down Chip’s spine, and his mind struggled to keep up with the sensation coursing through his body.

“I–uh…” Chip stuttered, completely flustered by the combination of your words and the feel of your body pressed against his. His mind was hazy, his thoughts scattered, and he couldn’t think straight. His lips parted, desperate for words, but all that came out was a needy, “Y/N, please…”

You smirked, clearly enjoying the effect you were having on him, your hands sliding over his chest as you leaned in close. “I’m glad you still have your manners, my dumb boy,” you cooed, your tone both sweet and condescending, the words sending another wave of heat rushing through his veins.

Chip thought he would hate it—the way you were teasing him, degrading him just enough to make him feel like he was completely under your control. But instead, it had the opposite effect. His heart raced faster, his skin flushed, and every word you said made his desire for you burn hotter, stronger. He was already so far gone, so completely consumed by the moment, that he didn’t care anymore. He wanted more—needed more of you, no matter how you gave it to him.

His eyes locked onto yours, wide and desperate, his voice barely a whisper as he choked out, “Please… don’t stop.”

Your grin widened, your fingers trailing down his stomach, teasing him as you took your time. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear as you stepped closer until you were right in front of him. 

His hands instinctively reached for you, but you gently pushed him back against the chair, keeping control, your gaze locked with his. "You're going to sit back," you whispered, your voice low and commanding, "and let me take care of you."

Chip’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, his pulse racing as he nodded, his eyes still glued to you. His body was already on fire, every nerve on edge, but now the anticipation of what you were about to do was almost unbearable.

You grinned, clearly loving the effect you were having on him, the power you held over him in this moment. With a slow, deliberate motion, you began to slide your bottoms down, letting them drop to the floor, exposing yourself completely to Chip. His eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as he stared up at you, utterly entranced by the sight.

Without a word, you climbed back into his lap, the heat of your bare skin pressing against his as you kissed him, deep and slow, savoring the way he responded. Chip groaned into your mouth, his hands moving immediately, instinctively, to cup your breasts. His touch was needy, desperate, his fingers squeezing gently as he explored you, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as you moaned in his mouth.

The feeling of his hands on you, the way his breath hitched as you kissed him, made your whole body hum with anticipation. You could feel how badly he wanted this—how badly he wanted you—and the way his touch became more urgent, more insistent, only fueled your desire.

You pressed your body closer, grinding against him as your lips moved together, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. Chip's moans grew louder, his grip on you tightening as he lost himself in the sensation, every inch of his body responding to your touch.

He pulled back for just a second, breathless and wide-eyed, his voice hoarse as he whispered, "You're perfect... so perfect."

You smiled against his lips, your voice teasing as you whispered back, "Good boy."

“Fuck me, please, please, please,” Chip cried out, his voice ragged and desperate, his entire body trembling beneath you. The words came out in a rush, his need overtaking every ounce of restraint he had left.

You leaned in close, teasing him with a soft, mocking coo, “Oh, my stupid little baby, I will. You don’t have to cry.” You grinned wickedly, swiping your thumbs under his eyes, even though there were no actual tears, your touch just enough to send another shiver down his spine.

Chip lifted his arms obediently, his breathing heavy, and you helped him out of his shirt, tossing it aside as you admired the way his chest rose and fell with each labored breath. The tension between you was electric, the air thick with anticipation as you positioned yourself above him, his hands gripping your hips like he was holding on for dear life.

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, you finally sank down on him.

Chip let out a guttural moan, his head falling back against the chair as you took him in completely, the overwhelming sensation making his entire body tense beneath you. His hands tightened on your hips, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he tried to process the rush of pleasure flooding through him.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice barely audible as you began to move, your body sliding against his in a slow, teasing rhythm. You could feel the way his muscles tensed, the way his grip on you tightened as if he was trying to keep himself grounded, but the more you moved, the more he lost himself in the sensation.

You smiled down at him, your own breath hitching as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "There you go, baby."

Chip’s response was nothing more than a broken moan, his mind completely gone, lost to the feeling of you, of the way your body moved against his, of the overwhelming pleasure that had been building for what felt like forever. And as you rode him, slow and deliberate, Chip could only cling to you, completely at your mercy, and loving every second of it.

“Does it–ahh–does it feel good for you?” Chip whimpered, his voice shaky and breathless, his eyes wide with need as he looked up at you. His hands gripped your hips tighter, desperate to make sure you were feeling even a fraction of the intensity that was flooding through him.

You smiled down at him, your breath catching as you moved against him, your body sinking deeper with each slow, deliberate motion. “Oh, baby,” you purred, leaning in close enough that your lips brushed against his ear, “it feels fucking amazing.”

Your words made Chip’s body jolt beneath you, a needy groan escaping his lips as you continued to move, each motion slow but firm, driving him wild. The way your body enveloped him, the heat and friction between you both, had his mind spinning, but hearing that it felt good for you—really good—made his heart pound even harder.

"God, you're perfect," he whispered, his voice hoarse, his hips bucking up instinctively as you continued to ride him, his need to please you overriding everything else. "I just want to make you feel good."

You smiled, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the muscles tense beneath your fingers as you leaned in close again, your lips brushing against his. "You already are, baby," you whispered, your voice breathy and filled with a teasing warmth. "You're being so good for me."

Chip whimpered at your words, his mind overwhelmed by the heady mix of praise and raw sensation. Every nerve in his body was on fire, his control slipping with every second. He barely knew what he was doing, lost in the whirlwind of desire, but somehow, in a blur of movement, the positions had shifted.

Suddenly, you were laying down on the table, your back arching slightly as Chip found himself on top of you. His breath came out in ragged gasps, his body trembling as he thrust into you, more instinct than thought guiding his movements now. His hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he moved, his rhythm uneven but full of intensity.

“Fuck,” Chip breathed, his voice rough, almost broken. He couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe how good it felt to be this close to you, to be buried inside you, moving with reckless abandon. He wanted to last, to savor the moment, but the way you felt beneath him, the soft gasps that escaped your lips, were driving him wild.

Your hands slid up his arms, gripping his shoulders as you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper. “That’s it, Chip,” you murmured, your voice sultry and filled with encouragement. “Just like that.”

Your words only fueled the fire inside him. Chip’s hips snapped forward harder, more desperate, his body completely giving in to the pleasure as he chased the high that had been building between you. He could barely think, barely breathe, but he didn’t care—he was completely lost in the moment, in you.

The table creaked beneath you, your bodies moving in sync, every thrust sending a wave of electricity through both of you. Chip’s forehead rested against yours, his breath hot and ragged as he continued, his need to please you overtaking everything else.

“Am I—ah—doing good?” he managed to choke out between thrusts, his voice barely a whisper, filled with a raw vulnerability. He was desperate for reassurance, desperate to know that he was making you feel as good as you were making him feel.

Your nails scraped lightly down his back, sending a shiver through him as you smiled up at him, your voice low and sultry as you whispered, “So good, Chip. You’re amazing.”

Those words sent Chip over the edge. His body tensed, every muscle tightening as he lost himself in the rhythm, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. The only thing on his mind now was you, the way your body moved beneath his, the way you felt so perfectly wrapped around him. 

"I’m gonna come, Y/N," Chip groaned, his voice strained, trembling with the intensity of everything building inside him. His movements grew more erratic, his hips snapping harder against you as he fought to keep control, though he knew he was seconds away from losing it completely.

You could feel how close he was, his body trembling with the effort, his breath ragged and uneven. Your hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him even closer as you whispered, your voice dripping with need, "Give it to me, baby."

Those words, that permission, sent him spiraling over the edge.

With a broken, desperate moan, Chip’s body tensed, his hips bucking one last time as he lost himself completely in the pleasure. His entire body shuddered, waves of heat crashing over him as he buried himself inside you, giving you everything he had. 

His breath came out in short, gasping pants, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as the last of the tension drained from him. He was shaking, overwhelmed by the intensity of the release, and for a moment, he could barely think, his mind blank as he clung to you.

"Fuck," he whispered, his voice hoarse and trembling as he tried to catch his breath, still lost in the haze of everything that had just happened.

You smiled, your hands sliding up his back in a soothing gesture as you held him close, your own breath still ragged from the intensity of it all. "That’s my good boy," you whispered, your lips brushing his ear as you ran your fingers through his hair.

You and Chip sorted yourselves out, getting cleaned up and dressed before stepping back into the quiet night, the air cool against your flushed skin. As you began walking home, Chip felt a warmth settle in his chest that had nothing to do with the physical heat between you earlier. His heart soared when you casually grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. That small, intimate gesture made him feel like everything had changed—for the better.

But then, suddenly, a cold realization hit him, causing his steps to falter. “Oh my god,” Chip said, his voice full of panic as he looked at you with wide eyes. “You never came!”

You burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the quiet street, and you stopped walking, tugging him into a hug. Chip immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, but still looking slightly panicked. “What’s this for?” he asked, confusion lacing his words.

“You’re the sweetest man alive, Chip,” you said through your laughter, pulling back just enough to grin up at him. You leaned in, giving him a soft, lingering kiss that made his mind spin all over again. When you pulled away, Chip’s lips followed yours instinctively, still looking dazed and concerned.

Before he could speak, you brushed your thumb over his cheek, whispering, “I was only worried about you.” Then, with a playful glint in your eyes, you tickled his sides, making him jump and giggle, his worry dissolving into laughter.

“But,” you added, your tone turning teasing again as you looked up at him with a wink, “if you want to go again, you can sleep in my bed tonight.”

Chip’s eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open in shock and excitement. Without missing a beat, he nodded, completely floored by your offer. And then—he was off. Grabbing your hand, he tugged you down the street, practically dragging you along as he picked up the pace.

You couldn’t help but laugh maniacally as Chip half-sprinted down the street, pulling you behind him like a man on a mission. You’d never seen him move so fast in your life, and it only made your laughter echo louder.

Chip glanced back at you, his face flushed with a mix of excitement and affection, but his steps didn’t slow. He wasn’t going to waste any time getting home tonight—not with the promise of you waiting for him. And as you both hurried through the night, hand in hand, the laughter between you felt like the start of something new, something neither of you were going to let go of anytime soon.

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[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me

dbf!Joel x f!reader

The first TLOU fic I ever read was a dbf!Joel story and it left an indelible mark on my soul. Unfortunately, I never bookmarked it so I have no idea which one it was. It's only natural that I had to try my hand at one at some point. So, here we are.

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 4.1k

Series Warnings: Mature to start, but will ultimately be Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. There will be angst, drama, fluff, humor, romance, smut... basically, the works. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname from her dad, which will be explained at some point.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Chapter One: The Day That I Met You

If you asked him over a decade ago where he’d be now, Joel Miller would not have placed himself as a single father to a tenacious pre-teen desperately trying to keep things afloat. He spent too many hours in the week working to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. He would be lost without the help of his brother and the few friends he had. He had no social life to speak of and could not for the life of him remember the last time he went on an actual date.

No, back then, Joel thought he’d be living the good life in ten years’ time – traveling, going out with the boys, maybe have a girlfriend or wife. Basically, just getting to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Don’t get him wrong, though. He was still living a good life; it just was a different sort of good than what he hoped for back in the day.

He loved his daughter with every fiber of his being. Sarah was the best damn thing that ever happened to him, his entire world, and he wouldn’t change the past ten years for anything. He bent over backwards doing whatever it took to make his little girl feel cared for, happy, and loved. He just wished there was a little energy left for something for himself at the end of the day.

Joel Miller was drained. Mentally, physically, and emotionally.

He awoke with a groan as the bright sunlight broke through the gap in his curtains. It was Saturday – his birthday – and he hoped to sleep in, at least a little. Between the brightness of the morning and the stifled sounds of clanging pans and voices carrying up the stairs from his kitchen, sleeping in was not happening.

He hauled himself out of bed with a groan worthy of a man twenty years his senior and stretched out his limbs to ease the achiness in his bare back and chest from too much manual labor. Throwing on a pair of well-worn sleep pants and a faded tee shirt, Joel slipped from his bedroom and down the stairs. He moved rather quietly for a man of his size, stealing a moment to lean against the entryway into the kitchen and watch as Sarah and Tommy worked together making breakfast.

The counters were a mess of spilled pancake mix, eggshells, and… was that coffee dripping over the edge and onto the floor? It was a toss-up on who made the bigger mess, his ten-year-old daughter, or his grown ass brother. Still, Joel could not stop the smile spreading across his face as he watched them laughing and teasing each other. That, right there, was the reason he worked so hard, why the loneliness was worth it.

When Tommy flipped the stovetop off, Sarah turned to find her dad smiling goofily at them. “Happy Birthday, Dad!” she exclaimed, launching herself at his chest. Her lanky arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted her off the ground in a big bear hug.

“Thanks, baby girl,” Joel replied, pressing his lips to her forehead in a quick kiss before he settled her feet on the ground.

“We made you breakfast!” Sarah declared, gesturing toward the disaster zone formerly known as his kitchen.

“I see that,” he chuckled, voice still slightly rough with sleep.

Tommy turned with a smirk, hands grasping two plates filled with bacon, eggs, and pancakes. “Take a seat, brother. Let us take care of you on your birthday.” Placing the food on the small dining table, Tommy roughly patted his brother’s shoulders. “Don’t worry ‘bout the mess, I’m on cleanup duty after we eat.”

“We expectin’ company? That’s a helluva lot of food,” Joel grumbled. He needed coffee, stat.

“Yeah, JB is comin’ over to see ya before heading to the airport. His daughter finished grad school over the summer and is moving back home.” Tommy set more food and a full mug of dark roast coffee in front of his brother. The scent alone made Joel perk up a little.

The Millers hadn’t met you yet, having only become friends with your dad through work after you’d already left for college on the east coast. Your dad had a good decade on Joel, but he and the Miller brothers got on like a forest fire from what he told you. With visits home always short and rushed, busy catching up with family and your own friends, there was never time for your dad to introduce you all. Now you were coming home for good and would have plentiful opportunities for spending time with your dad and his friends.

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy muttered as the doorbell rang. Sarah bounded to the door to greet your dad with a hug. In many ways, the girl reminded him of you when you were young, and it always brought a smile to his face.

“There he is! The man of the hour. Happy Birthday, buddy!” Your dad, John, or JB as the Millers called him, ruffled Joel’s already mussed hair, leaving a few locks standing straight up in further disarray. Pulling a 12-pack of beer from behind his back, your dad set it on the table in front of Joel, topped with a little red bow. “I gotcha a lil’ something to celebrate.”

“Good man,” Joel replied with a chuckle. “Have a seat and help me eat all this. Tommy just told me your lil’ girl is coming home, finally.”

Your dad’s face lit up even more at the mention of you coming home. “She’s not so little anymore, but I sure am glad she’s moving back here. Said she had enough of the east coast, but I think she just missed her ol’ man.” After wolfing down some food, he added, “Think we could host a small barbecue here this coming weekend to celebrate? Your backyard is way nicer than mine and you got the pool and all.”

“Not to mention that fancy ass grill,” Tommy chimed in.

Swallowing a long sip of his morning go juice, Joel nodded. “Of course. Invite whoever you want. I’m looking forward to finally meeting your daughter.”

“Me too!” Sarah added. She heard a lot about you from your dad and hoped you were as cool in person as he made you out to be.

Joel’s mind started spinning upon hearing his daughter’s excitement. With her school hours being so different from his typical work hours, he was spending a small fortune on after school care for Sarah. She was still too young for him to leave home alone, especially on those days where he’s stuck late at a job. He was barely scraping by as it was and couldn’t really afford the cost of after school programs. Perhaps…

“JB, ya think your daughter would mind watching Sarah during the week while she’s home. Drop off and pick up from school and keeping her company ‘til I get home from work? I could pay her – it wouldn’t be much, but better than nothin’, I imagine.” He watched Sarah’s eyes light up at the suggestion and knew it was a good choice.

“I’m sure she’d love to. She wasn’t planning on finding a real job until after the holidays, so I know she’ll be free during the day,” your dad replied. “I’ll talk to her about it on the ride back from the airport and let you know.”

Three suitcases and a carry-on bag. That’s all you had left from six and a half years of pursuing higher education in North Carolina. You sold or gave away anything that did not fit into your luggage or hold sentimental value of your time away. Now, you were moving back home to save some money before you had to start chipping away at the mountain of student loan debt you accrued.

You loved learning, always have, but you were relieved to be done with school. Equipped with a bachelor’s degree in earth sciences and a master’s in education, you felt like a real adult ready to take the world of middle school by storm… well, starting after the new year, maybe. For now, you needed several months of limited to no responsibility to recoup your mental and physical energy. That last couple years of school really burned you out. Not to mention the last-minute rejection of a teaching position you thought was in the bag…

Anyway, you were better off leaving North Carolina behind and returning to Austin. You missed your dad something fierce and his particular brand of caring for you was exactly what your weary soul needed. It was you and him against the world, just like when you were a kid.

You flight was smooth and uneventful, yet you were relieved to deboard the plane. Something about being stuck in a tin can at the mercy of someone else’s ability to keep the thing from plummeting to the ground really aggravated your anxiety. Flying was something you would never enjoy; it was merely a means to an end when you wanted to travel long distances.

The journey to baggage claim was a slog with the crowd of passengers all heading to the same place. You were wondering how you’d wrangle three large suitcases by yourself when you caught sight of your dad. His broad smile took over his face when he spotted you, rushing over to sweep you up in a big bear hug.

“Hey Spud, how was the flight?” he asked as you waited for the baggage carousel to begin moving. “Looks like it was a full plane.”

“It was, but the flight was good. I’m really glad to be home.”

“Me, too, kid.”

You settled into a comfortable silence, watching various pieces of luggage pass by on the carousel. Your bags were scattered, and you had to wait several cycles to get all of them. Your dad lugged the final suitcase over the carousel with a grunt. “Jesus, what you got in this one? Bricks? A body?”

“That one has my gaming system and half a closet full of clothes,” you replied with a laugh.

Before long, everything was loaded into your dad’s truck, and you were heading back towards town. The radio hummed at a low volume as you both chatted about everything and nothing all at once.

“Hey, so I know you said you weren’t looking for full-time work until after the new year, but I have a proposition for you.” Your dad’s eyes stayed focused on the road, and you merely quirked a brow waiting for him to continue. “My buddy Joel – you know the one I told you about? Well, his daughter is ten and he needs some help with the school run and after school care. Our work hours aren’t exactly the same as elementary school, you know?”

You nodded, remembering all the times your dad spoke to you about Joel, as well as his daughter and brother. Despite never meeting them, you felt like you already knew their whole life story. “So, he’s looking for a nanny or something? I could do that. It would keep me from getting lazy while I navigate getting my Texas teaching certificate.”

Your dad grinned, one hand patting your leg. “I was hoping you’d say that. Joel will pay you, of course, but just… don’t expect much. It ain’t easy for him being a single dad trying to keep everything afloat.”

Again, you nodded, a soft smile creasing your lips. You knew all too well how challenging it could be for single parents, having grown up with just you and your dad. Much like what your dad told you about Joel’s experience with the mother of his child, your mom split when you were barely a toddler. Things weren’t always sunshine and roses, but your dad sure did his best to make sure you had a great life. Honestly, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, that life with your dad. You had a feeling it was much the same for Joel and his daughter.

“I’m happy to help, even if he doesn’t pay me. I’m sure his daughter will enjoy having a female influence in her life if nothing else. What’s her name again? Sarah?”

Your dad’s eyes twinkled with pride. “Yup, that’s it. I’m proud of the woman you’ve become, Spud.”

A mist of tears prickled your eyes as you mumbled out a “Thanks, dad.” After a beat, you added, “Must you keep up with that nickname?”

“Of course. You’ll always be my little Spud,” he laughed as you rolled your eyes. “Oh, by the way, we’re going to the Millers on Saturday for your welcome home party.”

“What’s all this?” Joel questioned as Tommy and Sarah placed a heavy, wrapped package on the table before him along with a few smaller presents. The remains of a birthday cake sat nearby, having been delightfully devoured by the Millers while celebrating Joel’s birthday.

“Just a little somethin’ from me and Sarah,” Tommy replied, a boyish grin alighting his handsome features.

Joel gazed between them with curiosity. Not big on celebrating his own aging, he rarely got big gifts. “You wanna help me open this, nugget?” Sarah’s eyes lit up, small hands reaching to tear the wrapping paper into shreds. It only took a few moments for the contents to be revealed, leaving Joel confused at the modern contraption sitting in front of him. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You play video games on it, dumbass.” Tommy harumphed as he began a diatribe on the features of the gaming system – he had one just like it at his place and it provided hours of entertainment when he didn’t feel like going out. “I figured it would be a good hobby for you since you never want to join me in going out.”

“Huh,” Joel grunted in return, brows furrowed as he read the instructions on how to setup up the machine. His attention was diverted by Sarah shoving the smaller parcels into his lap.

“Here, dad! These go with it.” Together, they tore into the wrapping paper to find several video games, a few of which were family friendly. The final gift was a spare controller for the gaming system so he and Sarah could play together.

Despite still being unsure that the gift was a good fit for him, Joel was grateful to Tommy for the effort. “This is too much, man. You shouldn’t spend this kind of money on me, Tommy.”

His brother waved him off. “I found a great deal and you never get anything for yourself, brother. You deserve something to indulge in. Believe me, you’ll have fun with this.”

The rest of the evening was spent with Tommy setting up the system and showing the father-daughter duo how to play some of the games he picked out. The living room filled with lots of laughter and teasing, and Joel found himself really getting into the fun of the video games.

After tucking Sarah into bed, Tommy showed Joel a game that was too violent for the little girl but entertaining for the men. The game was set in Washington DC which had been ravaged by a brutal pandemic and the main character was part of a group of agents fighting off nefarious gangs trying to take over the city. Joel caught onto the gameplay quickly and the two men found themselves building the loadout for Joel’s character, taking out bad guys, and chatting well into the night.

At two in the morning, the pair looked at each other with bleary, red-rimmed eyes and finally called it a night. Joel directed Tommy to crash in the spare room as he shuffled off to bed upstairs.

It didn’t take you long to get settled into your dad’s house. It wasn’t the home you grew up in and you only visited a few times after he bought it. After years living away on your own, you thought it would be an adjustment being under his roof again, but it wasn’t. He understood the need for personal space and never hovered unless you were hurt or sick. He gave you the downstairs bedroom – it was the largest in the house, with an ensuite bath and huge walk-in closet.

“Dad, no! Why in the world is this not your room?” you questioned when he placed your bags on the brand-new, king size bed he had delivered the week prior.

“Hell no, Spud. What do I need all this space for? I like the upstairs rooms better – the light is all wrong in this one anyway.”

You looked around, holding in a giggle. The room faced south, giving you just the right amount of natural light all day. That’s what your dad didn’t like. He preferred to live like a bat in a cave with blackout curtains and limited lighting.

“Alright, well, I love it. The natural light is perfect for me. I can actually put some plants on the windowsills. Thank you!” You kissed his cheek as he left you to get settled.

You spent the week rearranging the bedroom how you wanted it, setting up your gaming system, and putting all your clothes into the walk-in closet. Your dad hadn’t done much with the room other than furnish it, so you made a few trips to the store to get a bathroom set, floor lamps, and wall décor to make the room your own.

Before you knew it, Saturday morning dawned bright and warm. The day of your welcome home gathering arrived, and you would finally get to meet the Millers. An excited energy had you moving about your space in a flurry, tidying up and getting ready early. You’d seen some photos of the Millers that your dad sent you – Sarah was adorable with her dark, springy curls, and Joel… Joel was handsome, in a broody, overworked kind of way, with dark, riotous curls and big, warm chocolate eyes. Kind eyes, you called them.

“Hey Spud, you ready?” your dad called from the kitchen as you put the finishing touches on your hair. It was pinned up, leaving the smooth skin of your neck bare. The sundress you picked hugged your curves in just the right way, falling just at your knees in a flow of lightweight material. In early October, Austin was still hot, and you hoped the Millers’ yard was shaded.

“Bring a swimsuit! They have a pool!” he yelled as you grabbed the last of your things. Turning back to your closet, you grabbed a dark green one-piece suitable for family-friendly swimming and tucked it into your bag.

“I’m ready!”

Your dad smiled at the sight of you. “Let’s go then. We’re heading over early so you can officially meet the Millers and we’ll help them setup before everyone else arrives.”

“Sounds good. Who all’s coming anyway?” Your eyes widened as your dad rattled off a list of people he invited, including his work buddies and some of his and Joel’s neighbors. He would have invited some of your old friends from high school, but you all lost touch over the years. The party was turning out bigger than you thought. Your heart swelled with how happy your dad was to have you home for good.

The Millers lived in the same neighborhood, only a few blocks away, so close you could have walked if not for the scorching sun. The drive took only a few minutes before your dad pulled into the driveway of a two-story home similar to your dad’s, with simple landscaping and two wooden rocking chairs on the wide porch. Lovely and quaint, the house made you more curious about the people who lived there.

“Dayum! Get a load a JB’s daughter, Joel,” Tommy called from the living room, leaning over the couch to look out the front window. “She’s smokin’ hot!”

“Dammit, Tommy. Stop spying on ‘em,” Joel growled, sneaking a peek over his brother’s shoulder to do a little hypocritical spying of his own. Breath caught in his throat at the sight of you and he couldn’t break his gaze away, even as JB led you toward the front door.

“What was that about spyin’, brother?” Tommy teased, practically dragging Joel away from the window as a knock sounded against the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”

Tommy opened the heavy wooden door revealing the pair of you standing there, matching bright eyes and wide grins greeting him. “Well, hello there, beautiful. I’m Tommy.” Reaching a hand toward you, Tommy completely ignored JB, who just scowled at him.

“Nice to meet you, Tommy,” you replied, offering him your hand and name in return. Joel’s scowl matched your dad’s expression as Tommy held your hand for several beats too long.

“Back off, Tommy,” your dad grunted, swatting at the younger Miller brother. “This here is Tommy’s brother, Joel. The one who actually owns this house and the better Miller, if you ask me.”

“Ain’t no one askin’ you, old man,” Tommy’s smart mouth shot back at your dad.

Joel ignored both men, eyes like dark pools as he gazed at you, awed at how small and delicate your hand felt in his. “Howdy, darlin’,” his voice rumbled from his chest. “Come on in. There’s someone else lookin’ forward to meeting you.”

Leading the way through the kitchen into the backyard, Joel felt the heat of your gaze burning his back. Were you checking him out? There was no way. You were beautiful and likely in your early twenties. He felt ancient, though he was only in his early thirties, the hard labor of construction work having taken its toll on him.

“Hi Dad!” a young, sweet voice called from a small swing set where a precious little girl entertained herself. “Who’s this?”

Joel introduced you to his daughter, leaving the two of you to get acquainted as your dad called him away.

“You were away at college?” Sarah questioned, motioning for you to take a seat on the swing next to hers.

“I was,” you replied. “But I’m back for good now.”

“That’s good. What grade did you get to? I’m in fourth grade.”

You thought about it a moment. “I guess it would be 18th grade. But you stop counting grade numbers after 12th and start using different words to describe what year you’re in during college.”

Sarah listened raptly while you explained the different terms, what you studied in school, and what kind of job you were hoping to get.

“You want to be a teacher?” she asked, awed.

“I do! I want to teach middle grade science.”

“I love science! Maybe you could be my teacher when I get to sixth grade!”

Joel returned with your dad and Tommy in tow to find you and Sarah having a blast. The little girl sat in your lap as you kicked your feet out, swinging as high as you could, singing some camp song you remembered from your youth.

“See? Told ya she’d love to spend time with Sarah,” your dad said to Joel. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, staring at the two of you with a glazed look in his dark eyes.

Shaking himself off, Joel turned to your dad. “Guess I better work out some details with her.” He stepped over to the swing set, taking a seat on the empty swing and hoping to the heavens above that it held his weight. He struggled internally on how to start the conversation and was just about to blurt something out when his amazing daughter saved the day.

“Dad! She wants to be a teacher! A science teacher! Isn’t that cool? Did you ask her about watching me yet? I think she’d love to.” Sarah rambled on excitedly, amusing you and Joel. Turning to you before Joel could chime in, Sarah turned to you with baby cow eyes, adding, “You would love to, right?”

How could you ever resist that look? No one could. Both you and Joel were powerless as you nodded, and the offer became official. Cell numbers were exchanged and before you knew it, you had a job starting Monday.

Hours later, slightly drunk on spiked fruit punch and buzzing with energy, you thanked Joel for hosting the barbecue and giving you a job. You kissed his stubbled cheek, forcing thoughts of how attractive he was as far down as they could go. You could not develop a crush on your boss. “I’ll see you Monday morning, bright and early!” you declared before following your dad through the front door.

TBC

[2hightocare]

WHAT YOU NEED ✷

Synopsis: Jungkook and you try getting into the Christmas spirit, but you end up getting fucked up against the kitchen counter.

Pairing: Jungkook x f!reader

Genre: established relationship au!

Warnings: smut, size kink, light spanking, squirting, creampie, unprotected sex (don’t b dumb nd wear condom.) fluff, cussing, Jungkook has a dirty mouth. a kms joke, hair pulling and choking

Word count: 2.3k

A/n: let’s not sayyyy.. when i say i was giggling and kicking my feet i am not fucking lying! (Jk had me on a chokehold istg😒) they flagged my shit… um

Is it barely November 1st? Yes.

Are you putting the Christmas tree up already? Fuck yeah.

Jungkook would clown you for your love for Christmas, and honestly, you didn't care because you loved everything about it. The decorations, the new flavored coffee menu’s, the gifts underneath the tree, and the cold. You loved wearing beanies, scarves, and thick hoodies. Something about this holiday takes you back to your childhood—the way you would gather with your siblings and parents in the kitchen, making sugar cookies to put under the tree for Santa.

Were you heartbroken when your parents told you they were Santa? Yes. You felt betrayed after they lied to you for thirteen years of your life. When you shared your story with Jungkook, he burst out laughing, sharing that he found out at age nine after catching his parents in the act, making you want to cry for him.

Now here you both were at 10:40 pm assembling the Christmas tree. Jungkook's mom gifted you both, which is much bigger than yours from last year.

“Oh my fuck—this is too big, baby." Jungkook admires the height of the tree with his hands rested on both sides of his hips. Your excitement rises at how many possible ways you both could decorate it.

"Well, I can tell you hate it,” your boyfriend jokes as his hands wrap around your bare waist from behind. “Your hands are cold,” you flinch. Your hands wrap around his, trying to pass him your warmth.

“And if we decorate it with tiny dicks?” You crack your neck upward to see his reaction. “I mean, go for it, baby."

You swat his chest as he burst into a fit of laughter. “You swear you’re so funny, huh?” You look at him with a serious face, your mouth twitching from trying to hold in the big smile that wants to come out.

Jungkook just shakes his head. “Wanna decorate today with last year's decorations, or we can wait till tomorrow and buy new ones, and instead we can bake Christmas cookies?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

Anyone in their right mind would be thinking we’re crazy for already baking Christmas cookies when December is in a whole month. But you both didn’t care.

…

“We should’ve gotten pre-made cookie dough.” Your eyes look around at the marble counter in front of you, filled with all the ingredients your mother-in-law told you to use. “On god.” Jungkook stands beside you. “You know what? Let me call my mom. We need a tutorial, I'm afraid.” You giggle as he pulls out his phone, opening up FaceTime.

The phone rings three times before the camera fills up with your mother-in-law smiling sweetly. "Hi, my babies!” She says first, Your face lights up. “Hi,” you wave a hand to the camera. “Hi mom!”

“You guys look adorable,” she motions to your guys matching pink hello kitty pajamas. “Y/n bought them; I had no choice,” he lied, knowing damn well he wanted to match first. “Sureee.” You rolled your eyes at him.

The call continued as Jungkook's mom gave you guys simple instructions like beating the sugar and butter with a whisk, which Jungkook took over because your hand started to hurt, and gradually adding flour to the mixture, which ended with both of you guys covered in white flour because Jungkook turned the mixer too fast. After wishing your goodbyes, you both slightly shake off the flour, and you put the dough in the refrigerator. Apparently, you have to let it be firm.

“So now we have two hours to wait. I say we fuck.” Jungkook slaps your ass, making you squeal. “You’re horny??” Your hands make their way to his hair, slightly pulling. "Hm, maybe,” he whispers into your mouth, and he gives you a slow, wet kiss. “I’m still sore from earlier." I mumble in between kisses. “Was I too rough?” His rough hands massage your ass. You shrug your shoulders in his embrace.

“Christmas movie, then?” He asks, “I’m so down."

….

“Shit takes like ass,” you say, finishing up the cookie.

Your boyfriend looks around for the long-gone cookie. “I don't know; let’s ask the audience.” He looks around for the invisible camera. “Bitch!” You swat his arm, and he burst out laughing, holding on to his stomach.

“You literally ate that shit up.” His head is thrown back, and the most beautiful laugh roars out of him. “I will kill myself genuinely.” You chuckle while trying another cookie without the frosting you guys tried making from a tutorial on Google.

“The frosting is ass, cause this is a bomb,” you stuff your mouth with the remaining of the cookie humming at the taste. “Am I weird cause I fuck with the frosting?" He dips his pinky nto the bowl where the white frosting is before sucking it off. “Never mind actual shit." His nose scrunches in disgust, and his tongue sticks out, making you giggle.

"No, seriously, why is it so bad?” Jungkook takes a sip of the milk he had served not so long ago. “I have no clue, baby, but the sugar cookie itself slaps." You take your half eaten cookie up to your boyfriend's mouth and say, "Open, ahh." He immediately follows commands and opens before you shove his mouth with the golden cookie. “Mhm,” Jungkook's face scrunches as he bobs his head up and down, savoring the heart-shaped cookie.

“Probably the best cookie I had in a while, not gonna lie,” he states, taking a bite of the gingerman's head.

“Do we have cinnamon?” You make your way to the drawer where you keep all the spices. “ Found it,” you make your way back to the cookie before sprinkling some on your and Jungkook's cookies before taking a huge bite. “Oh my fuck," you moan.

"Oh, my fuck indeed.” Jungkook shoves the remaining cookie into his mouth, moaning at how it melted in his mouth. "Think, I just saw stars.” You say this while he side-eyes you. “Haha no.” He says that before picking you up on the counter, he settles in between your legs.

“Horny still?” You ask again, "Yes, very, I’ll be a gentle promise.” He leaves open-mouth kisses on your neck before slowly sucking.

“No marks.” You moan, your fingers slightly tugging on his hair and making him groan. “Scarf season, princess.” He looks up with a smirk on his face, then continues his actions, sucking and licking your soft spot. You bite your lip, trying to be quiet. Jungkook slowly grinds into your clothed pussy causing you to slip out a throaty moan. “Fuck—“ you throw your head back, your legs caging him closer to where you most need him. “I need you to lose the clothes and fuck me.” Jungkook chuckles at your demanding tone.

“Yeah? Want my cock already?” His hands rub on your thighs. You nod your head, looking down at the imprint of his now-hard cock. You reach for it, but Jungkook slaps your hand away, making you pout. “Patience princess,” Jungkook's hands tug on the band of your pajamas, pulling them down and taking your underwear along with it.

You squeal as your bare ass feels the cold counter top, and your boyfriend laughs before throwing the clothes somewhere on the ground.

Your pussy clenches over nothing, and you go to press your thighs together to relieve some of the tension, only for Jungkook to hold them wide open. He pulls his hard cock out of his pants, giving himself two pumps before slapping it on your wet center. Your gaze fixated on his dick on your pussy, your lips between your teeth moaning slightly when your boyfriend gives it another slap with his dick.

“So wet for me, baby,” he says, giving it another slap. "C'mere," Jungkook's picks you off the counter from your arms, “bend over. ” He orders.

You quickly follow his command, your juices dripping down your legs from how wet you were already. Jungkook spreads open your legs some more before making his way in between them, giving your ass a slap. “Fuck—“ you clench your thighs together as he soothes the red mark he just left. “Fuck, when are you going to let me fuck this ass.” Your boyfriend asks you, giving you another spank, making you squeak.

“Never,” you moan, making him chuckle under his breath. “Worth the try.” He jokes before sinking down into you, both moaning at the feeling. You felt so full. Jungkook is so big, stretching your pussy deliciously. “So big shit," you moan, your cheek pressed against the counter as he fills you up to the hilt. “You can take it, baby,” Jungkook says between gritted teeth. He felt you clenching around him, having him on the verge of coming right there in an instant.

“Always so good for me, baby. Want me to fuck you so good, huh?” He whispers into your ear, and you clench around him, earning you another spank, ripping a loud moan out of you. “Fuck me," you stutter over the pleasure your lower belly is feeling. “That’s what I like to hear, baby,” Jungkook says before pulling his cock out, just leaving the tip in before slamming into you. Your mouth hangs open as he repeats the movements over and over again. “Fuck just like that,” you grip to the edge of the counter, your eyes close immediately, as his rough hands compare to your smooth skin, hold tightly to the sides of your hips, pounding into you from behind.

“This cunt is mine, right?” Jungkook groans, sliding his cock in and out of your walls. You could only reply with a loud moan. But that’s not enough for Jungkook; your boyfriend wraps his hand around your hair, pulling you upward and arching your back in the process. “Use your words, princess.” He orders in your ear, his movements never halting.

"Fuck—your pussy! Only yours,” you spit out whatever words you could make a sentence out of. “Fucking you dumb, huh?” He lets go of your hair and moves his hand around your neck, adorning it like a necklace and applying some pressure. "Mhmm,” you moan, trying to open your eyes but shutting close after Jungkook slams into you again.

The room fills with the wet clapping sounds, groans, and moans that keep spilling out of your guys mouths. Your fingers find your sensitive clit, applying pressure and drawing small circles. "Fuck—I'm gonna come!” Your legs shake beneath Jungkook, and his arm wraps around your waist in case your legs give out on you.

“Yeah baby? Gonna come for me?” He slaps your hand away from your clit replacing it with his. Your back arches against him, and his cock continues hitting your g-spot repeatedly, sending you over the edge.

“Oh fuc—“ Your words are cut short when the pleasure in your belly finally snaps, and Jungkook's fingers furiously move on your pussy, making you scream into your hand. Wetness pools on your feet, dripping down your legs. “Fuck so hot when you squirt,” Jungkook continues fucking you through your orgasm, the overstimulation has you shaking underneath him. “Too much fu-fuck,” you head drops to the counter. You clench, sending Jungkook over the edge.

“Coming,” your boyfriend's head drops to your shoulder, his movements becoming sloppy, springs of cum shooting inside you, moaning at the feeling.

His movements come to a halt, his mind foggy, his cock throbbing when he pulls out, making you whine, feeling empty.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Jungkook mutters under his breath as he sees his cum dripping out of your hole. Without a second thought, he shoves it back in with his index finger. “Aw shit,” you moan at the sensitivity.

He chuckles, kissing your shoulder blade. “You were so good for me, baby.” He leaves open-mouthed kisses all over your back, breathing heavily. You are trying to catch your breath, and your legs feel like jelly, not being able to move from your current position.

“Mhm,” you hum softly, your eyes closing. "Baby, don’t fall asleep on me,” Jungkook smiles at you, picking you up in bridal style, making you to squeal.

"How the fuck can you be so cute after just getting railed?” Your boyfriend moves your hair out of your face as you try to snuggle into his chest. “You play too much,” you mumble.

Jungkook lays you down on the bed before disappearing into your guys bathroom; a couple minutes later, coming out changed and with a warm rag in hand, “here, baby open,” he coos motioning to your legs. You do as he says. He slowly cleans and wipes your center, making you moan from oversensitivity. “Almost done,” he says before giving a last swipe and throwing the rag somewhere in the room.

“Do you want a pill, baby?” He asks against your cheek, to which you nod. He stands up, walking to your side of the closet and getting you something comfy to wear. “Here. Be right back.” Jungkook leaves the clothes next to you and leaves the room.

As you change into your clothes, Jungkook waltz’s in with an ibuprofen and a glass of water on his other hand. “Here,” he says, waiting for you to poke your head out of his hoodie before handing you the small pill.

You swallow the pill without any complaints before dropping down on the bed. “So tired.” Your eyes close before you even hit the pillow, making him chuckle. “Worn you out, huh?” He teases before dropping beside you, pulling the covers over both of you. You immediately cuddle up to his side, feeding off the warmth he radiates. Your leg is over his torso, and your hand is on his chest.

“I love you, princess.” He whispers into your hair, leaving a small kiss on your forehead. “I love you; now let’s go, mimi’s." You kiss his clothed chest, hoping he can still feel the kiss.