#the look on its face when the little one hits it-

[dirtyyoungthingg]

its been a long day. between school and extracurriculars, i am exhausted and stressed. i need a release. bad.

what better way to relieve my stress than fucking myself silly?

i walk into my bedroom, already smiling thanks to the plan my sweet little brain came up with. my smile drops when i realize you're sitting on my bed.

next to my toys.

"d-dad...--"

"what the fuck are these, hm?" you gesture to the two toys on the bed. i immediately shrink into myself, embarrassed.

"...dunno...."

"dont play dumb with me." you stand and grab a fistful of my hair, bringing my gaze up to meet yours. you glance back over at the toys. "do you even know how to use those?" nervously, i nod.

"i-i'm a big girl."

you can't help but smile a little. "yeah?" you throw me down onto the bed. "show dad. let me see you be a big girl, and maybe i'll let you keep these." i scramble onto my back, my heart pounding in my ears as i try to wrap my brain around whats happening.

my dad wants to watch me fuck myself.... my thighs squeeze together as you settle onto the foot of the bed. you tut at me and place your hands on my knees.

"don't be shy now. its nothing i havent seen before." your mind flashes back to our special bathtimes. how you loved catching glimpses of my sweet little pussy underneath the bubbles. how you'd use your special soap on me, as long as i didnt tell anyone.

"but dad--"

you spread my legs open suddenly, my skirt raising to show off my printed pink panties. "shut the fuck up. take those off." my face is flushed as i comply, sliding out of my panties. you grab them from me and bring them to your nose. "god... you always smell so good." i shiver at the cold air hitting my wet cunt. you set the panties down and reach to rub your thumb lightly against my sweet little pussy lips. your other hand moves to grab the first toy, a small bullet vibrator. you smile at it for a moment. "where'd you get this guy, huh?"

"th-the mall... one of the stores sells stuff like that in the back..." you turn it on, and a small but consistent buzzing sound fills the air. you raise your eyebrows as you click it back off.

"not bad." you press it into my hands. "go on. show me how you use it."

i feel dizzy, nervous. this is wrong, you shouldnt be making me do this. and yet, i'm so wet, and i was planning on playing with myself anyway... maybe its not so bad that dad's here.... i bite my lower lip as i turn the small vibe back on and begin to run it over my little pussy lips. a breath catches in my throat when i brush over my swollen clit. you take another deep breath from my panties as you watch, palming yourself through your pants. i press the vibe to my clit as i watch. "g-god... dad...."

"thaaaaat's right baby. just like that." you unbuckle your belt and pull your cock out, wrapping the soft pink fabric of my panties around the length of it as you begin to pump your cock with your fist. the sight is making me lightheaded with lust. i squirm as the vibrator presses harder onto my clit, letting out a moan. "good girl..."

you glance over at the other toy, a sizable dildo. you grab it with your other hand and look down at my glistening cunt. so small and sweet... "...can you even fit this in that sweet little hole, baby?"

i sheepishly look away, shaking my head no. "so-sometimes if i try i can get it halfway in, but it really hurts..." you can't help but laugh a little.

"you just need daddy's help, baby." you grab the vibrator and click it off. i can't help but whimper a little and squirm at the lack of touch. you smile. "turn over, raise that cute little ass up for me." i comply, rolling over onto my stomach and putting my ass up in the air. my skirt from school is still on, and you have to slide it up so you can get to my bare ass. yet another reminder that i'm your daughter, your baby... you shouldn't be doing this... and yet you continue.

you use the head of the dildo and lazily drag it over my opening, humming softly as you see the wetness that collects on the toy. "you're so wet... i'm sure we could fit this in if we tried. you're a big girl, right? thats why you have these toys?" i nod, too flustered to really speak.

"i-i'm a big girl..."

"that's right baby. you're a big girl. and that's why you're gonna take all of this, deep inside your sweet little kiddo cunt." you press the toy into me, slowly, working it in and out of my pussy bit by bit. my eyes screw shut as i whine. i'm still just so tight, so small... you bite your lower lip in concentration as you press the dildo even further inside me suddenly. i gasp and try to squirm away. it's too much, too deep...! i am met with a swift slap on my ass that makes me yelp and causes tears to spring from my eyes.

"ah-ah. that's enough of that, young lady." your tone is gruff, and makes me shudder inwardly. you manhandle me back into the proper position. "you wanted to be a big girl. owning these toys, fucking yourself with them. acting like such a whore. you're lucky this is how i'm choosing to correct this behavior." you smack the other cheek to punctuate your point. "i could've just thrown you down, raped you right here." you begin to thrust the dildo in and out of my cunt quickly, ignoring my pleas for you to stop. "coulda just taken everything ive ever wanted. your mouth, your pussy, your ass..."

i'm sobbing at this point as you relentlessly fuck me with the toy. "coulda treated you like the whore you are. traipsing around with those little skirts, those tiny tops that leave nothing to your father's imagination, much less anyone elses." you've driven the toy all the way into me at this point. i'm crying, my brain overloaded from pain and pleasure.

"t-too m-much--! p-please, stop!"

"shut the fuck up." you use your free hand to press my face into the pillows. "god, do you ever stop talking?" the toys pace is too much. you notice how much i'm clenching around it. "and look at that. you're close. you can't be having that bad of a time if you're that close to cumming while your dad plays with you how he sees fit." my cries are muffled by the pillows as i beg you over and over to stop, please god stop, it's too much.

"no, baby. i'm not gonna stop. not until you cum all over your special big girl toy for daddy. c'mon, i know you want to. you know you want to. cum for me. cum for dad."

and just like that, the dizzying feeling reaches its peak. i cum with the toy deep inside me, my sweet cries ringing out as i throw my head back. you slow your movements down until you stop.

"that's my girl." you slide the dildo out of my cunt. "i knew you could do it. and look at that! you took the whole thing! such a big girl for daddy, such a good girl."

i'm too much of a dazed mess to fight you off as you slide your pants down and position yourself over me. you line your cock up with my twitching cunt, humming softly.

"now i get to show you that you don't need those silly toys. all a girl needs is her father."

[persicipen-archive]

𑑛 “ARMOUR-CLAD HEART” ﾉ MYDEI. HONKAI STAR RAIL

gn reader ﾉ words 0.9k ᯽ mydei teaches you some self-defence. reader is not made for fighting and rather weak. an awkward display of affection from mydei’s side lol ��� no proofreading, we die like kremnoans ᯽ FLUFF ﾉ GENERAL CONTENT ᯽

You hear a displeased click of his tongue — nothing surprising given your stance and previous pathetic tries at blocking his fist — and take a step back with your face embarrassingly hot. His fake hit was nowhere near fast nor strong, just a mere presentation of where such an attack would come from and land at the end.

“You’d be dead within a second on the Strife’s battlefield. Or perhaps should I even say that a mere thug would get through your defence with little to no preparation?” Mydei’s gaze moves all over you in a judging way, and it takes your every strength not to look away.

“I’m not made for battle! You wouldn’t see me anywhere near it. It’s just way too hot today to focus.”

Another loud “tch” escapes his lips, now much more annoyed and agitated than before, as if he has already completely given up on any hope for you. A blazing sun over the terrace is no excuse to stop the lesson, or perhaps it’s precisely because of its presence.

“Surely someone with an ill intent would wait for you to be comfortable and well prepared for their arrival, am I correct?” He snickers in a sarcastic tone, leaving a short pause to give you another opportunity to oppose him.

But again, this time not only is his attitude towards you harsh and insulting, but his words make complete sense, and they burn with embarrassment even more than the scorching heat that surrounds both of you.

Maybe you’re simply spineless and will forever be even under his tutoring. You bite your lip, trying not to appear weaker than you already are, knowing very well that there will be absolutely no use in defending yourself anymore. But it doesn’t matter now. What does he plan to do next?

Your body tenses up out of reflex only seconds before his warm palm wraps around your arm, turning you around effortlessly while pressing your back against his own chest. An uncontrolled gasp leaves your mouth as you are left immobilised in an instant and the forced proximity feels even hotter than midday, yet the one behind you pays no mind to it, completely focused on keeping you in place.

“Most people would assume you cannot get out of this hold unless you’re physically stronger than the aggressor.”

You feel every slight breath he makes pressing harder on you. Not to mention how his voice sends pleasant shivers down your spine by being so close to your ear. All the discomfort disappears the second a faint memory reappears in the most unexpected of places. The way he holds you reminds you of something entirely different from sparring.

Curse your mind, it doesn’t help to focus at all and it’s especially shameful when Mydei’s not affected; calm and composed, with a fiery spark running along the red marks on his body.

“You’ll most likely always have a free hand or two. Instead of wriggling them mindlessly, use one to press on the bottom of your opponent’s nose or even punch them. The nose is always sensitive, even under the slightest pressure.” He eases the grip around your body and demonstrates what he just said and although he doesn’t apply force at all when bringing his knuckle above your cupid’s bow, you squirm involuntarily in an attempt to escape.

But since he never lets go of your other arm, there’s nowhere to run.

“Now, try it yourself.” Yet instead of waiting for your move, his hand — armoured in golden claws, a trap for your smaller palm — grabs yours and brings it behind towards his face. You peek over your shoulder, a little afraid.

To add on top of everything, he is as serious about this sparring lesson as ever, not paying attention to the closeness between your bodies. The red lines decorating his chest seem brighter than usual, with sweat glistening along his collarbones and hair dishevelled by the breeze.

Your heart skips a beat in anticipation when you are almost certain he’s about to kiss your fingers instead, but in the last second, he inches away and brushes them against the underside of his nose. “Here. Remember this.”

“I’m sure that my enemy won’t navigate my hand towards their weak spot.” A shaky sigh of disappointment escapes your lips.

He chuckles lowly at your comment, raising the corner of his mouth in a sardonic smile.

“You’d rather aim blindly than focus on where and what to attack? You’ve just earned the disapproval of the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos.” He moves in front of you, abruptly pausing all physical contact. “Be thankful that I’m not only willing to teach you how to defend yourself but also for that I will protect you with my own strength as long as you’re near.”

He pushes a damp strand of hair out of your face, the lightest touch of his bare finger causing more tingles to travel down your spine. At the same time, he flinches when realising what he has done and lets his hand drop to his side; the victorious glint in his golden eyes changes to bewilderment. His armour rattles at the subtle gesture of humanity and betrayal of his emotionless posture.

“We’ll practice again until you gain the approval from me. Do not expect me to be lenient.” The heat spreading on your cheeks becomes a problem only after Mydei finishes the sentence and moves away with haste, surely caused by his discomfort.

A gentle breeze runs through the illuminated terrace and cools your skin. You watch him walk away without turning around (you wish he would). This feeling of shame mixes with admiration and unadulterated curiosity to stir up something completely bizarre in your heart.

A pomegranate-sweet infatuation with the prince.

[elryuse]

Suzy x Male Reader

Smut, Actress has an infatuation with a younger childhood friend

Always On My Mind

Bae Suzy X Male Reader

Tags : Childhood Friends, Vanilla Sex, Extra Intimate and Passionate, Sweaty Sex, Kissing, Romance Words : 4,982 Words

You always called her Noona. Ever since you could remember, Suzy was a constant in your life—a beacon of warmth and comfort. She was two years older, always smiling, always teasing, and always looking out for you. Her black hair framed her delicate features, and her voice carried the kind of assurance only an older sibling—or someone who cared deeply—could muster.

"Noona, wait up!" you called as she walked ahead of you on the way home from school.

Suzy turned, her lips quirking up into a soft smile. "You’re too slow, Y/n. At this rate, I’ll have to carry you home!"

"You’re only saying that because you like showing off," you grumbled, your face flushed from running to keep up.

"Maybe," she said with a wink, "but it’s my job as your Noona to take care of you, isn’t it?"

That’s how it had always been. She was the big sister you never had, but somewhere deep down, you also knew she was something more.

It was a Saturday afternoon, the sky overcast but dry. You were sitting in the small park near your neighborhood, kicking pebbles while Suzy sat on the swing beside you.

“I have to tell you something,” she said softly, her voice lacking its usual playful lilt.

“What is it, Noona?”

She looked at you, her dark eyes full of something you couldn’t quite place—regret, sadness, and maybe a touch of excitement. “I’m leaving. Next week.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest. “Leaving? Why?”

“I got accepted into an idol training program in Seoul,” she explained, her hands gripping the swing’s chains tightly. “It’s a huge opportunity for me, Y/n. You understand, right?”

You didn’t understand. Not at all. All you knew was that Suzy was leaving, and the thought of it made your chest ache. “But… what about us? What about… me?”

Her expression softened, and she reached over to ruffle your hair. “Oh, my little Y/n. You’re going to be just fine. Besides, I’ll come back to visit when I can. And you’ll call me, right?”

“I guess…” you muttered, not meeting her gaze.

“Promise me, okay? Promise me you won’t forget about your Noona.”

You nodded reluctantly. “I promise.”

Life went on, as it always does. Suzy’s absence left a void in your heart, but you buried yourself in school and later in college. Occasionally, you’d hear whispers about a girl group named Miss A on social media or from classmates, but you never connected the dots.

Until one evening, your phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number.

“Y/n-ah, it’s me.”

The voice was unmistakable. Your heart skipped a beat. “Noona?”

She laughed softly, the sound like a melody you hadn’t realized you missed. “Still calling me Noona, huh? I’m glad.”

“Where have you been?” you asked, your voice shaking slightly. “It’s been years.”

“I know, I know. I’ve been so busy, but I debuted! I’m in a group now—Miss A. Have you heard of us?”

“Yeah… I think I’ve heard your name around,” you admitted, scratching the back of your head.

“You’re so hopeless,” she teased. “Anyway, I’m back in town for a bit. Let’s meet up. I want to hear everything about you.”

You agreed to meet at the old park where she’d told you she was leaving all those years ago. It was late afternoon, the golden light of the setting sun casting long shadows on the ground.

When you saw her, your breath caught. She was still the Suzy you remembered, but something about her had changed. She carried herself with a quiet confidence now, her long hair flowing in waves down her back. Her smile, though, was the same—warm and inviting.

“Y/n,” she called, waving at you.

You approached hesitantly. “Noona…”

She grinned. “Don’t look so scared! I don’t bite.”

“It’s not that,” you said, trying to compose yourself. “It’s just… you look so different now. More… grown up.”

“And you’ve gotten taller,” she teased, poking your arm. “But you’re still the same shy little kid I remember.”

The two of you sat on the swings, just like you had all those years ago. She told you about her life as an idol—the rigorous training, the long hours, the moments of doubt. And you told her about college, about your struggles to figure out what you wanted to do with your life.

“You’ve done so much, Noona,” you said, admiration clear in your voice. “I’m proud of you.”

Her expression softened, and she looked at you with an intensity that made your heart race. “And I’m proud of you, Y/n. I always knew you’d grow into someone amazing.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the park in twilight, Suzy turned to you, her expression serious.

“Y/n, can I tell you something?”

“Of course, Noona.”

She hesitated, biting her lip. “I’ve missed you. More than I thought I would. And seeing you now… it feels like I’ve been searching for something, and I finally found it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. “Noona…”

“I know it’s selfish,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “But I don’t want to be just your Noona anymore.”

The world seemed to freeze. You stared at her, your mind racing. “What are you saying?”

She reached out, her fingers brushing against yours. “I’m saying I want to be more than just your childhood friend. More than just your Noona. I want… I want to be with you.”

The air between you crackled with tension, thick and electric, as Suzy’s words hung in the twilight. Her fingers lingered on yours, soft and warm, and her gaze was unyielding, locking onto yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

“Noona,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the faint rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

Her lips curved into a small, nervous smile. “You don’t have to say anything, Y/n. Not yet. Just… let me be honest with you for once.”

She shifted closer on the swing, her knee brushing against yours. The contact sent a jolt through you, but you didn’t pull away. How could you? This was Suzy—your Noona, the girl who had always been there, even when she wasn’t.

“All these years,” she began, her voice trembling slightly, “I convinced myself that I was just your Noona. That I was looking out for you like a sister would. But deep down, I knew it was more than that. Even back then, when we were younger, I felt something… something I couldn’t name. And now, seeing you again—�� She paused, her breath hitching. “Now, I can’t ignore it anymore.”

Your heart raced, pounding so loudly you were sure she could hear it. “Noona, I…”

“Shh,” she murmured, placing a finger against your lips. Her touch was feather-light, but it silenced you instantly. “Just let me finish.”

Her hand dropped, and she leaned in, her face inches from yours. Her scent—a mix of citrus and something uniquely her—filled your senses, dizzying and intoxicating.

“I don’t want to leave without knowing,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Without knowing if you feel it too.”

The world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you, suspended in this moment. You searched her eyes, dark and endless, and saw the vulnerability she was trying so hard to hide. It mirrored your own—the fear, the longing, the hope.

“Suzy,” you said, her name slipping out before you could stop it. It felt strange, foreign, to call her anything other than Noona. But at the same time, it felt right. Necessary, even.

Her lashes fluttered, surprise flickering across her features. “You called me by my name.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, your voice shaky. “Because… because you’re not just my Noona. Not anymore.”

A soft gasp escaped her lips, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Before you could process what was happening, she closed the distance between you, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was equal parts desperate and tender.

It was messy, awkward even, born from years of suppressed feelings and stolen glances. Her hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, while yours found their way to her waist, clutching her like she might vanish if you let go.

When she finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads pressed together.

“Y/n,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

“Me too,” you admitted, your voice rough with emotion. “But I never thought…”

“I know,” she said, cutting you off with another quick kiss. “Neither did I. But now that we’re here… I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Her hands slid down to your shoulders, then lower, tracing the contours of your arms before settling on your chest. You could feel the heat of her skin through the fabric of your shirt, and the sensation sent a shiver down your spine.

“Suzy,” you said, your voice cracking. “Are you sure about this?”

She nodded, her expression serious. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

With that, she stood, taking your hand and pulling you to your feet. The park was empty now, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. She led you away from the swings, toward the familiar path that wound through the trees.

Your steps faltered as the implications of what was happening began to sink in. “Wait, Noona—Suzy. Where are we going?”

She glanced over her shoulder, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Somewhere private. Unless you’d rather stay here?”

Heat flooded your cheeks, and you shook your head quickly. “N-no, private is good.”

Her laughter filled the air, light and carefree, and she tightened her grip on your hand. “Good. Follow me.”

The walk to her apartment was a blur. Your mind raced, torn between disbelief and anticipation. This was Suzy. Your childhood friend, your Noona. And now…? Now, everything had changed.

By the time you reached her doorstep, your nerves were frayed, your pulse thundering in your ears. She unlocked the door and pulled you inside, kicking it shut behind her. The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the soft glow of a lamp in the corner.

She turned to face you, her breath catching as she studied your face. Slowly, she reached up, her fingers brushing against your cheek.

“You’re really here,” she murmured, almost as if she couldn’t believe it herself. “And you’re not running away.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you.

A slow smile spread across her lips, and she stepped closer, closing the gap between you. Her hands slid up your chest, then around your neck, pulling you down until your lips met hers once more.

This kiss was different—slower, deeper, more deliberate. Her tongue teased at your bottom lip, and you opened for her without hesitation, a low moan escaping your throat as she deepened the kiss. Her body pressed against yours, soft and warm, and you wrapped your arms around her waist, holding her close.

When she broke the kiss, both of you were panting, your faces flushed. She took your hand and led you to the couch, pushing you gently onto the cushions before climbing onto your lap. Her knees bracketed your hips, and her hands rested on your shoulders as she gazed down at you.

“I’ve imagined this so many times,” she confessed, her voice husky. “But it’s nothing compared to the real thing.”

Your hands found her hips, gripping them tightly as you looked up at her. “Suzy…”

She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear. “Tell me what you want, Y/n. Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

Your breath hitched, and your grip on her hips tightened. “I want you,” you admitted, your voice raw with need. “All of you.”

A shiver ran through her, and she pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Then take me.”

Her breath caught in her throat as your hands tightened around her hips, pulling her closer until there was no space left between you. The air around you felt electric, charged with the intensity of your shared desire. You could feel the heat radiating from her body, the way her chest rose and fell with each shallow breath. Her dark eyes locked onto yours, wide and searching, as if she were trying to pierce through every wall you’d ever built. And for the first time, you didn’t want to hide. Not from her.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against hers in a feather-light touch that sent a shiver down her spine. She tilted her head, her mouth parting slightly, inviting you in. But you held back, teasing her, letting the anticipation build until it was almost unbearable. Her fingers dug into your shoulders, urging you forward, but still, you lingered, savoring the way her breath hitched when you finally closed the distance.

The kiss started slow, tentative, as if you were both rediscovering each other after years apart. Her lips were soft, warm, and achingly familiar, yet they carried a sweetness you hadn’t noticed before. Your hands moved from her hips to her waist, sliding up her sides until they found the curve of her ribs. She gasped into your mouth, her body arching into your touch, and you took the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Your tongue brushed against hers, coaxing a low moan from her throat. She tasted faintly of honey and something uniquely Suzy—something that made your head spin and your pulse race. One hand tangled in her hair, gently guiding her head to the side as you kissed her with a hunger that surprised even you. Her fingers slid from your shoulders to the back of your neck, holding you close as if she were afraid you might pull away.

But you had no intention of stopping.

“Noona,” you whispered against her lips, your voice rough with need. “I’ve dreamed of this.”

She shuddered at your words, her grip tightening on your neck. “Y/n…” Her voice was barely audible, trembling with emotion. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

Her confession shattered whatever restraint you had left. With a growl, you pulled her onto your lap, her legs straddling your waist as you claimed her mouth again. This time, the kiss was anything but gentle. It was fierce, demanding, filled with all the longing you’d bottled up over the years. She matched your intensity, her nails scraping lightly against your scalp as she kissed you back with equal fervor.

One hand slid under the hem of her shirt, your fingers skimming the smooth skin of her back. She arched into your touch, a whimper escaping her lips as you traced lazy circles over her spine. Your other hand moved lower, gripping her thigh and pressing her closer until you could feel the warmth of her core against your stomach. The sensation drew a groan from deep within your chest, and you broke the kiss, resting your forehead against hers as you tried to catch your breath.

“Suzy,” you murmured, your voice hoarse. “I need to see you. All of you.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t hesitate. Slowly, reverently, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the floor. Then, with a shy smile, she pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her bare skin to your hungry gaze. Her breasts were perfect—full and round, with nipples already hard and begging for attention. You couldn’t resist reaching out, cupping one in your hand and rolling your thumb over the sensitive peak. She gasped, her head falling back as pleasure coursed through her.

“Y/n,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “Please…”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Leaning forward, you captured one nipple in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the hardened bud. She cried out, her hands tangling in your hair as you teased her mercilessly. Your free hand roamed over her body, exploring every inch of her as if committing her curves to memory. When you switched to her other breast, she squirmed in your lap, her hips grinding against yours in a way that made your head swim.

“Noona,” you groaned, pulling away just enough to look up at her. “You’re driving me crazy.”

A wicked smile spread across her lips, and she leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Then let me take care of you.”

Before you could respond, she slid off your lap and dropped to her knees in front of you. Her hands moved to your belt, deftly undoing the buckle before pushing your pants and boxers down your hips. Your cock sprang free, hard and aching, and she wasted no time taking you into her hand. Her touch was firm but tender, her fingers wrapping around your length and giving you a slow stroke that had your eyes fluttering shut.

“God, Noona…” you groaned, your hands gripping the edge of the couch.

Her lips curled into a smirk, and then she leaned forward, taking the tip of your cock into her mouth. The heat of her tongue was almost too much, and you had to bite back a moan as she swirled it around the sensitive head. Her hand continued to stroke you as her mouth worked its magic, alternating between sucking and licking until you were trembling with need.

“Fuck, Suzy,” you growled, your fingers tangling in her hair. “You feel so good.”

She hummed in response, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. Then, without warning, she took you deeper, her throat relaxing around you as she swallowed you whole. Your hips bucked involuntarily, and she looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes—a stark contrast to the dirty things she was doing with her mouth.

It was too much. The sight of her on her knees, her lips stretched around your cock, her dark eyes locked onto yours… it pushed you dangerously close to the edge. But you weren’t ready to finish—not yet. With a shaky breath, you pulled her off you, ignoring her pout as you lifted her back onto your lap.

“My turn,” you said, your voice thick with desire.

Her breath hitched as you flipped her onto her back, spreading her legs and settling between them. Her panties were soaked, clinging to her wet folds, and you couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to the damp fabric. She whimpered, her hips lifting off the couch as you tugged her panties aside, revealing her glistening entrance.

“Y/n,” she pleaded, her voice trembling. “Don’t tease me.”

You smirked, dragging your finger through her slickness and drawing a gasp from her lips. “But Noona,” you murmured, circling her clit with your thumb. “Watching you squirm is my new favorite hobby.”

Her response was cut off by a strangled moan as you leaned down, replacing your thumb with your tongue. The taste of her was intoxicating, sweet and tangy, and you lapped at her eagerly, drinking in every drop. Her hands fisted in your hair, holding you in place as you explored her with your mouth, alternating between broad strokes and focused flicks of your tongue.

“Oh God,” she cried, her back arching off the couch. “Y/n, I’m—I’m—”

She came undone with a cry, her thighs clamping around your head as waves of pleasure washed over her. You continued to lick her through it, gentling your movements until she collapsed back onto the couch, boneless and gasping for air.

When you finally pulled away, she looked up at you with hooded eyes, her chest heaving. “Y/n…” she murmured, her voice weak but filled with affection.

You kissed her softly, letting her taste herself on your lips. “Noona,” you whispered, “I love you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she pulled you into another kiss, pouring all her emotions into it. When you finally broke apart, she wrapped her arms around your neck, holding you close.

“Take me,” she whispered, her breath hot against your ear. “Make me yours.”

Your heart raced as you positioned yourself at her entrance, the tip of your cock pressing against her slick folds. “Are you sure?” you asked, searching her eyes for any trace of doubt.

She nodded, her expression filled with certainty. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With a steadying breath, you pushed inside her, the tight heat of her walls enveloping you in a way that made your vision blur. She gasped, her nails digging into your shoulders as you buried yourself to the hilt.

“Y/n,” she moaned, her voice trembling. “You feel so good.”

You leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss as you began to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that had her writhing beneath you. Each thrust drew a soft cry from her lips, and you couldn’t get enough of the sounds she made—the way she whispered your name like a prayer, the way her breathing hitched when you hit just the right spot.

Her hands roamed over your back, her nails leaving faint trails of pleasure-pain that only spurred you on. You buried your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent—sweet, floral, and utterly intoxicating.

“Noona,” you groaned, your hips snapping against hers. “I can’t hold back much longer.”

She wrapped her legs around your waist, pulling you deeper. “Then don’t,” she whispered, her voice husky with need. “I want you to come, Y/n.”

Her words pushed you over the edge. With a guttural groan, you thrust into her one last time, spilling yourself deep inside her as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. She clung to you, her body trembling as she reached her own climax, her walls clenching around you in a way that prolonged your release.

For a moment, everything faded away—time, space, the world outside—leaving only the two of you, connected in the most intimate way possible.

When you finally came down from your high, you rested your forehead against hers, both of you struggling to catch your breath. She smiled up at you, her eyes shining with warmth and affection.

“Y/n,” she murmured, her voice soft and full of emotion. “I love you, too.”

You kissed her gently, savoring the moment. But as you pulled back, a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes.

“Again?” she asked, her lips curling into a playful smile.

The next morning, the sunlight filtered through the blinds of Suzy’s apartment, casting a soft glow over the room. You stirred awake, your arm draped over her waist, her body warm and still against yours. Her breathing was steady, and for a moment, you just watched her, marveling at how peaceful she looked in sleep. She’s even more beautiful like this, you thought, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled when she saw you. “Morning,” she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.

“Morning, Noona,” you said, your heart swelling at the sight of her sleepy smile.

She stretched lazily, then propped herself up on one elbow. “I have to go to set today,” she said, pouting slightly. “It’s my music video shoot.”

You nodded, trying to hide your disappointment. “I’ll miss you.”

Her expression softened, and she leaned in to kiss you gently. “Why don’t you come with me?” she suggested, her tone casual but her eyes full of hope. “You could see what it’s like behind the scenes. And… I’d love to have you there.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The idea of seeing her work, of being close to her even while she was in her element, was incredibly tempting. “Are you sure? Won’t it be weird?”

Suzy shook her head, her lips curved into a playful smirk. “Everyone will just think you’re part of the crew. Besides, I want you there. Is that so bad?”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Not bad at all.”

---

The set was buzzing with activity when you arrived. Cameras, lights, and people filled the space, creating an electric atmosphere. Suzy immediately took charge, giving directions to her team and chatting casually with the director. You hung back, watching her as she moved with effortless grace, her confidence radiating in every step.

This is her world, you realized, feeling a mix of awe and pride. She belonged here, commanding attention without even trying.

At one point, she glanced over her shoulder and caught your eye, flashing you a quick smile. Your heart raced as she excused herself from the group and made her way over to you.

“How are you holding up?” she asked, her voice low so only you could hear.

“I’m fine,” you replied, though you felt a little out of place among all the chaos. “You’re amazing out there, Noona.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she looked down, suddenly shy. “Thank you,” she said softly. Then, after a pause, she added, “Stay close, okay? I want you near me.”

You nodded, unable to resist the warmth in her tone. As the day went on, you stayed by her side, helping where you could and simply enjoying the chance to be with her. Between takes, she would lean into you, stealing quiet moments of closeness that made your pulse quicken.

During a break, you found yourselves alone in her dressing room. The door clicked shut behind you, and Suzy turned to face you, her expression serious.

“Y/n,” she began, her voice trembling ever so slightly. “I know this is new for us, and… maybe it’s too soon to say this, but…” She took a deep breath, her eyes locking onto yours. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for this—for us—my whole life.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine. Before you could respond, she closed the distance between you, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that was both tender and urgent. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, your hands roaming over her back as if trying to memorize every curve.

She broke the kiss reluctantly, resting her forehead against yours. “I don’t want to hide this,” she whispered. “I don’t care who sees us. I just want to be with you.”

Her declaration left you breathless. “Noona…”

She pressed her finger to your lips, silencing you. “Don’t overthink it, Y/n. Just be with me.”

Before you could reply, someone knocked on the door, startling you both. “Suzy-ssi, we’re ready for you!” a voice called from the other side.

Suzy sighed, stepping back but keeping her hand in yours. “Come watch,” she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I want you to see this.”

You followed her back to the set, your heart pounding as you took your place among the crew. The cameras rolled, and Suzy transformed before your eyes, slipping effortlessly into her role. She moved with such precision and passion that it was impossible to look away.

As the shoot progressed, you couldn’t help but notice how often she glanced your way, her smile growing warmer each time. It was as if she were performing for you, pouring her heart into every movement because you were there to witness it.

When the director finally called “Cut!” and declared the shoot a wrap, the room erupted into applause. Suzy bowed graciously, thanking everyone for their hard work, but her gaze kept drifting back to you.

Once the crowd began to disperse, she made her way over, her steps slow and deliberate. “Well?” she asked, tilting her head playfully. “What did you think?”

“You were incredible,” you said honestly, your voice filled with admiration. “I mean, I always knew you were talented, but seeing you like that… it’s unreal.”

Her cheeks turned pink, and she looked down, almost bashful. “Thank you,” she murmured. Then, her expression grew serious. “But you know what the best part was?”

You shook your head, curious.

“Knowing you were watching,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It made everything feel… different. Special.”

Your chest tightened at her words, and you reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. “I’ll always watch you, Noona. No matter what.”

She smiled, a soft, contented smile that made your heart ache in the best possible way. “Good,” she said, leaning in closer. “Because I plan on keeping you around for a long time.”

As the crew began to pack up, Suzy led you to a quieter corner of the set, away from prying eyes. She slipped her arms around your neck, pressing her body against yours. “Now,” she said, her voice low and sultry, “what do you say we continue where we left off earlier?”

Your breath hitched, and you didn’t hesitate. You kissed her deeply, your hands gripping her waist as she melted into you. The sounds of the set faded into the background, leaving only the two of you, lost in the heat of the moment.

When she pulled back, her lips swollen and her eyes dark with desire, she gave you a mischievous smile. “My place or yours?” she teased, her tone light but her gaze intense.

You chuckled, your heart racing. “Whichever gets us there faster.”

Her laughter echoed through the empty set as she grabbed your hand and led you toward the exit. But as you reached the door, she paused, turning to face you. “Y/n,” she said, her voice soft but firm, “this isn’t just about tonight. This is… forever. Okay?”

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “Okay.”

And as you stepped out into the cool night air, hand in hand with the woman who had once been your childhood friend and was now so much more, you couldn’t help but feel like the universe had finally aligned. For the first time in years, everything felt right.

“Let’s go home,” Suzy said, squeezing your hand.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

How could you love somebody like me?

Pairing: f!reader x Javier Peña Words count: 3032 Rating: + 18, NSFW, MDNI. Summary: Javi is under protection and has asked you to join him in the hotel room where he is confined. When you discover his secrets and lies, however, that room will become too small. Too small for both of you. Tags/warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, Javi is still a DEA agent but it's a modern setting so the man has a smartphone. Reader is described having female genitalia and breasts, no other description of her is given, she doesn't blush and her hair is not described. Mention of alcohol, mention of cheating, Javi is a cheater, no happy ending, we will go through the man's phone (you're not supposed to do that but I never said my reader could do no wrong, right?), use of pet names (gatita which means kitten in Spanish, baby, darling), smut, angry sex, unprotected p in v (do better irl), cream pie, of course a little nipple play ‘cause it’s still my fic, toxic relationship, self doubt, mention of Steve, a huge pile of lies, Javi is bad at feelings, some reader’s thoughts marked in italics. I think it's all, let me know if I forgot something and I'll add it right away. A/N: Written for @jolapeno 's "Dear-uary" challenge. This was my prompt, I struggled a little bit at first but I ended up having a blast writing this ❤︎ Heavily inspired by this song (from which the fic also takes its title), I heard it randomly on Spotify one day and I thought "wait, this is perfect for Javi!" and I ended up being obsessed with two more songs by the same artist. LOL Many thanks to: - @aurorawritestoescape , my beta, for her help and advice, she will probably dream of elephants because of me tonight hahaha Kate I own you a big one, thanks baby so much, I love you ❤️ - The person who basically pulled this out of my brain and supported me throughout the process, my precious, my peanut @joelmillerisapunk. 🥰 Love you so much it's ridiculous🥹 - @milla-frenchy for letting me blather about this thing some days ago. Love you, bb ❤︎ English is not my first language, every single mistake is still on me, I deeply apologize if you find any.

Edited - because I forgot to change the most important detail, of course. I’m not myself if I’m not doing a mess. Yay. It’s okay now.

“Why the hell am I here? Was I the only available hole this week?”

“No,” he whispers. 

“So what?” 

Javier came back and found you in the middle of the room.

You were brandishing his phone like a sword in the air, the banner of everything that was wrong.

His face went pale when he saw you like that. 

Eyes wide open. 

Mouth agape. 

He tried to say something but you immediately hit him with a vomit of words.

“I know what you’re doing,” you hiss under your breath, feeling your eyes sting.

Javier is a marble statue in front of you, his lips pressed together, his absent eyes not even looking at you, staring at a spot behind your shoulders, his arms abandoned along his sides. 

He seems anchored to the ground. 

His last words to you still burn on your skin like a fire you cannot extinguish.

A heavy silence between you fills the air of the room and makes it unbreathable. 

“Fuck, Javier, talk to me,” you whisper angrily.

You clutch his phone in your hands, so tightly that your knuckles are white from exertion, as if you were clinging to it to keep yourself from falling off a cliff. 

“You knew I was no good,” he says sternly.

You have been in this room for two days. 

Officially, Javier has to stay here because henchmen of one of the new drug lords in town are set on taking him out. 

Unofficially, he has you infiltrating the room. 

Typical Javier, spending his time under protection fucking someone. 

You foolishly almost believed it was romantic, until this morning. 

“So you’re trying to say that it’s my fault? Is that what you want to say? It’s my fault that as soon as I turn my back you go and stick your cock in someone else's pussy?” You don’t even have the strength to scream right now. Your voice comes out rancorous but low, hoarse, like a blown growl. 

Oh, you’re not going to accept being lectured by him, fuck no.

“No, I’m just saying -” he tries to explain and you glare at him, making the words die in his mouth.  

"What?" 

“Fuck, I'll never change,” he shrugs as if it were a truism that only you can't grasp.

His eyes shift to the ground, dull and absent.

“You don't change because you are convinced that you can't,” you admonish him, feeling anger rising from your chest. 

"That's not true," he murmurs, keeping his gaze on the crimson and gold carpet that lies at your feet.

“Yes, it is,” you insist, ”and you seem to like to think of yourself as an incurable asshole.”

He still fails to see the real problem, the elephant in the room that lives and thrives among you. 

"Then you tell me, if you think you know me so well,” he asks with defiance. 

“You bet I fucking know you,” you lash out. “You think you're so mysterious and complicated?! Well,  news flash, I've seen plenty like you. You’re just another man. You're not even that, you're a child. A child who's afraid of his own shadow when it comes to relationships.”

“Don’t fucking analyze me,” he hisses, finally setting his eyes back on you. 

Raven, angry and fearful. He knows you can read him like an open book and this unleashes an awareness upon him that crushes him to the ground.

You bitterly laugh, “Truth hurts, huh? I know something about it”. 

The wrinkle between his eyebrows deepens, his nostrils flare, and his mouth tightens into a line so thin you think he’s about to burst. He stays quiet instead, eyes back on the damask carpet decoration. 

_____________

“Yes, Steve, I'm fine. That jerk won't find me here, and anyway it's full of police outside the door.” 

A pause and a sigh. 

”No, no one followed her, they don't know who she is.”

You stood behind the half-closed bathroom door listening. 

You smiled. 

His voice sounded softer when he talked about you. You lulled yourself into that feeling. 

Until you heard something else. 

A booming laugh. 

Water ran in the shower, tiny droplets coated the wall as the mirror fogged up.

“Whatever. Of course I'm still screwing around. At least, I was doing it before that asshole started chasing me,” his voice suddenly lowered so you took a chance and opened the door a little more. You wanted to make sure you heard right. 

Your hand trembled against the doorknob, you grabbed your wrist to hold it steady. 

“You idiot,” he scoffed. “Yeah, we'll be in touch.”

Suspicion. The black wing of a crow that had been wrapped around your heart for a long time.

But then why did it hurt so much? 

You allowed yourself to hide it in a part of your brain where you never looked-that was a mistake. Making the hunch barely a firefly when it was supposed to be a bright neon sign.

He always places the phone with its screen down when you go out to dinner, softly smiling at it when he checks it after a few vibrations, telling you “it’s Steve” when you ask. 

But you know that crooked smile. 

He dodges when you ask him about his day "oh work, you know, just work." 

He tells you he is with Steve but you hear female voices in the background. 

Every time you try to confront him it always ends the same way, him telling you, “you’re paranoid, there’s no one else, just you, baby. You’re the only one I want.”

And then he fucks your doubts into oblivion.

You heard the thud of the phone on the blankets. And then Javier calling you. 

You swallowed the gall rising from the walls of your stomach and just smiled when he joined you in the bathroom and suggested that you shower together.

You wanted some proof before you charged him. 

If there was anything you had learned from being with him, it was that hard evidence was the key. So you played cool. 

He fucked you against the shower wall and you moaned into his neck. 

He licked your pussy like a man starved and you just bit your lips until you felt iron on your tongue.

He kissed you with that liar's mouth, and you let him.

And you fell asleep beside him, on the unmade bed of your uncertainties. 

This morning someone from outside called him into the hallway to report the latest movements of the guy who was looking for him. 

His phone was on the bedside table.

It was like a magnet, pulling your hand to it.

You were almost sure you knew his unlock code ‘cause you had watched the movements of his finger many times. 

You tried twice without success. 

The third time you let out a long sigh, visualized in your mind the movement one more time and unlocked it. 

You were in. 

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as your fingers swiped and clicked on the screen. 

And there they were.

Dozens and dozens of messages and pics exchanged with 4 different women.

You scrolled through one of the chats with a certain Maria, who regularly sent him pictures of her tits and her legs spread wide, her pussy in the shot.

There was sexting, arranged dates, same promises he gave to you, things you never asked for but he kept repeating like a broken record. Even the same pet name. Gatita. 

Blood simmered in your veins, a jolt in your heart, throat dry. 

Your finger furiously scrolled through the chat, finding tons of messages he had sent her while he was with you.

You switched to another one and you found pretty much the same. And yet another, message after message containing flirting and explicit sex.  

“Oh Javi, you keep getting better and better with that cock of yours”

“My pussy needs you, darling, can you come over?”

“I can’t stop thinking about your huge cock dripping on me”

And the more you scrolled, the more a question formed in your brain, rumbling through your temples like a deafening drum. 

Was he ever sincere with you?

________

When he looks up at you again, you see it. A veil of fragility in the dense blackness of his gaze.

He looks almost helpless. “I know you tried,” he admits, ”You tried harder than anyone else.”

“Apparently it was no use,” you chastise him.

He doesn’t reply. 

Instead he comes closer and closer. 

You pull back, responding to his every step forward with a backward one. 

“Please,” he whispers. 

“No.” 

“Don't do that.”

“You have no right to tell me what to do,” you bark.

”I know...” 

“Fuck off, Javier, leave me alone.”

You pull back until you hit the wall behind you. 

Javier approaches, bending slightly to reach your mouth, his mustache brushes against your cupid’s bow and you don't even have the strength to turn your face away anymore. 

When your lips collide you let it happen. 

It’s like when you drink too much Tequila. 

It burns on your tongue, leaving you almost anesthetized as soon as you down it, and then an aromatic taste wafts into your mouth; it is lysergic, unusual, unmistakable.

You love it, so you keep doing it.

Javier is the same. 

He's sharp, stiff at the edges, burns like fire, but he has an aura that you won’t mistake for anything and he hypnotizes you. He’s not like anyone else, despite what you told him. There is an underlying despair in him, a cry dying in his throat, “How can you love someone like me?” 

He says it only with his eyes but you hear it clearly.

He is a time bomb that explodes in your heart every time he touches you. So you keep doing it.

“Fuck,” you whisper against his lips. 

“Yeah…I know. I’m not worthy.”

And yet, you’re still here.

You let him peel off your every layer of clothing, to leave you naked and vulnerable in front of him. 

You do nothing when he undresses too. Hastily taking off his shirt, fumbling with the button of his jeans, nervous hands and short breaths.

It is like some mind fuck game, intoxicating, dangerous, capable of leaving permanent marks.

He lowers his jeans just enough to free his cock, no boxers. Always ready.

His hands run over your hips and you groan. 

His tongue slides over your neck, his eyes closed, his breath heavy and warm on your skin. 

He makes you cry, but you don't say no.

His lips latch onto your nipple and adrenaline rushes through your veins up into your head, hitting hard like a jackhammer.

You don’t pull back anymore, you push your tit into his mouth so eagerly you feel his teeth closing on your bud and you whine in pleasure. 

His growing erection leaks against your center. You are trapped. Not so much because you are between him and the wall but because you no longer know how to get him out of your head. 

Right now it doesn't matter how much it hurts. 

He slides his hands down your thighs and you know what he wants, without needing to speak. You wrap your legs around his waist. He kneels on the bed with you still clinging to him, you lie back on the soft blankets that smell of you both, arch your back and press against his cock. You folds splayed and dripping for him.

His fingers go up your rib cage, stop under your breasts and grasp there, he draws you back to him and your mouths collide again.

You let his tongue enter. You let the fleeting pleasure of this instant take over all the no's you know you have to say.

There’s no right kind of love here, this room is drowned in angry sex.

Angry at how you can never say no to him, angry at how he makes you feel, angry because you know that no one has ever fucked you the way he did, invading your body with a pleasure so addictive that it makes you sick. Angry because maybe he's right, he can't change. 

You break the kiss and bite on his shoulder, a small act of revenge that really does no harm compared to your bleeding heart. 

Your hands grasp on the golden skin of his back, leaving marks with your nails digging into it, your miserable attempt to leave marks on him in return.

You moan convulsively under his touch, your mouth wide open against his, your tongue desperately seeking him out. 

His hands tighten on your ass, lifting you slightly, his cock slides over your wet opening, a guttural sound comes out of the back of your throat without you being able to hold it back. 

You want him inside you. 

You need him inside you.

And it’s wrong, and desperate. It’s masochistic.

You don’t even care for his jeans’s zip scraping your skin.

The thin line between pain and pleasure is so blurred now.

It’s a pathetic shit show of need and urgency. 

You’d walk away from any other guy but Javier is the person you can never have just for yourself and at the same time he is the only one you want. 

He is the knife and the wound at the same time.  

When he asks “Whose pussy is this?” in his deep groaning voice that fucks directly with your brain, you can only reply “yours.”

Digging your nails deeper, biting more, wailing louder but just pleading with him.

You take his shaft in your hand and rub it against you in blind desperation, wetting it with your juices. 

He groans into your ears while his hand reaches for your nipple and his big strong arm holds you close.

You are sitting on his thighs, your legs crossed behind his back.

His fingers pinch your nipple as you don't stop stroking his big throbbing cock.

Just put it in there. You think. I just need to feel your flesh against mine, inside me, claiming me like the rag doll that I am now. 

Stupid bitch trying to have you when you’re damaged like a shattered glass, when you can bring nothing than heat to my body and freezing ice to my heart. 

“Fuck me,” you groan. 

He pushes against your core, entering you with one deep thrust.

Your pussy is weeping so much it doesn’t even hurt.

You clench on him with all the strength you have, chocking his cock with your walls.

“Fuck,” he growls. “You’re gripping me so hard, baby. There’s nothing you want more than this, huh? Me fucking you raw?” 

“Shut up,” you hiss. 

He starts moving, pumping into you as his hand reaches for your clit, brushing it in circles.

You whine, clinging onto his back, your face hidden in the crook of his neck.

You can’t look him in the eye, you can’t face your own shameful reflection in his pupils, you can’t think of anything else than this pleasure firing your body, your limbs, your mind.

Your pussy never gets the memo when it comes to him. She just clenches, and cries and asks for more.

At the verge of your brink, when you’re so utterly overwhelmed you could swear, you’re about to jump out of your skin, you hear it.

It’s the softest whisper on your skin, so low you barely catch the words, “I love you” 

You cry a single tear that slides down the column of his neck, it could be mistaken for a bead of sweat so easily and Javier doesn’t notice it. But it’s there. You’re crying again.

You come, weeping.

Grasping to him like your last shred of hope.

But there’s no hope anymore.

You know you can’t go on like that.

You cried before. You argued before. It’s all useless.

A devastating orgasm shoots through you, leaving you without defense.

It’s the last thing you want but you need to get it over with. 

You lie on the bed, feeling his last twitches inside you, his cum dripping onto your walls, his cock pressing against that spot that belongs only to him.

He lies down on you, gently crushing you with his weight, his sweaty skin against yours, the smell of your orgasm filling your nostrils.

You’re hopeless and breathless. 

He's still inside you, like he doesn't want to leave. 

You know you have to. 

Eventually he shifts, lying on the other side of the bed muttering, “god, you really are something else.” He takes the pack of cigarettes from the nightstand and lights one, taking a long drag.

“I'm not enough,” you want to scream looking at him through the cloud of smoke enveloping him. “Or maybe you're not, for me.”

When he is about to fall asleep, you get up. You pick up your clothes off the floor and put them on silently.

“Where are you going, gatita?” he grunts. 

Does he think he has solved it? Does he think you will forgive him as you did the other times? 

You don’t reply.

"You only ever tell me the truth when you think I won't hear it,” you type on your phone and send it to him, before coming out of the door without turning your back.

You leave him there, wondering, lost as he makes you feel.

There will be two broken hearts. 

You know he loves you and you love him.

He is convinced that he doesn’t deserve you and pushes you away every time you get close to his soul. 

He knows that you see him clearly; that scares him.

You are tired of fighting for the both of you.

You push the elevator button under the gaze of an unsuspecting policeman who urges, “Where are you going, miss?”

“I'm leaving.”

“Do you need someone to accompany you?” 

“No, thank you.”

“Someone could follow you,” he counters.

“No one knows me, you don't have to worry.”

You wait for the elevator, still hoping to see his ruffled raven hair poking out the door, his voice calling to you, his hand tightening on your wrist. 

None of this happens.

The only ones who will follow you are your ghosts.

Tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @almostempty , @probablyreadinsmut , @thundermartini , @gothcsz , @cas-readsandwrites , @harriedandharassed

Archive tag: @pedrostories

If you want to be added or removed just let me know! Thank you very much for reading❤︎

[nina-ya]

Synopsis: You sought Ace out for warmth but his wandering hands and needy pleads end with a quickie against the railing of the Moby Dick. Pairing: Ace x AFABreader CW: NSFW MINORS DNI, Hints of temperature play, P in V sex, Ace is needy, creampie, Ace is a little shit, his freckles light up while fucking you. • ficmas masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

The night air was so sharp and brittle that it seemed to bite at your skin with every breath. The Moby Dick creaked and groaned as the chill of the ocean worked its way through every seam. No matter how tightly you bundled yourself in your blankets, the cold persisted, creeping into your bones like an uninvited guest. Sleep was distant and taunting you. 

With a shiver that rattled your teeth, you finally had enough and decided to look for the next best source of warmth. Ace was on lookout duty, a job he never seemed to mind especially since his fiery warmth makes him the perfect candidate for tasks on frigid nights like this one. 

You made your way out to the deck, your hands wrapped tightly around yourself. The cold hit you full force as you emerged and you hissed softly, your steps faltering against the icy deck. Ace stood at the ship’s railing, his back to you, hat tipped low as he leaned over the edge. His shoulders were relaxed, though his eyes scanned the ocean for any and all threats. 

“Ace,” you called out, your voice carrying over the whisper of the waves. He turned, dark eyes glinting with the faintest hint of surprise before softening at the sight of your shivering form.

“Can’t sleep?” he guessed, tone warm despite the cold. He straightened and beckoned you closer, a smile tugging at his lips. “Let me guess-- too cold?”

You nodded, your chattering teeth making a verbal response unnecessary. Ace chuckled softly, his laughter like the crackle of firewood. Without even thinking, he opened his arms, motioning you forward. 

“C’mere,” he said simply. You obliged immediately, walking right into his open arms and pressing yourself flush against his chest. The heat of him immediately radiated throughout your body, as though you had stepped right into the heart of a flame. You exhaled shakily, the relief so sudden it felt like your body might melt into his. 

Ace turned toward the railing, positioning you between him and the edge. His arms wrapped around you in a loose hold, his hands instinctively tracing warm patterns wherever his fingertips met your body. The heat seeped into you, warming your frozen fingers and thawing the ache in your chest. You sighed in contentment, leaning your head back to rest against him. 

The wind tore through the air, stinging your face and pricking at any exposed skin with merciless precision. Despite Ace’s warmth, the gusts crept into the gaps, chilling you to the bone all over again. You burrowed closer into his chest, chasing his heat. His hands, though initially resting innocently enough on your sides, had begun a wandering exploration. 

Maybe it had to do with the fact that this was the most alone time you had gotten all week, or perhaps he was just an easy man to rile up, but his touches had grown to suggest a deeper hunger simmering beneath the surface. His fingers lingered longer than necessary, tightening slightly when they reached the plush of your ass, and his breath, warm against your temple, came heavier, hotter. 

When you muttered through shivering lips, “I’m so cold,” Ace leaned in, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear as he murmured, “I can find a way to keep you warm,” in a tone rough and full of implication. His fingers curled against your sides, pressing you tighter against him. 

“Ace,” you giggled, trying to get him to maintain his composure. “You’ve got a job to do.”

“And I’m doing it,” he quipped, his voice dripping with mischief as his hands slid to rest on the curve of your hips. “I’m just doing a little something called multitasking.”

Your reply died on your tongue when he tilted his head and pressed his lips to your neck. The kiss was searing against the chill of your skin, and it sent shivers through you for an entirely different reason. His mouth moved, planting slow, deliberate kisses along the line of your throat, each one lingering just long enough to make you yearn for the heat that came with each press of his lips.

Ace’s hands were never idle. One snaked up your torso, sliding beneath your layers. Burning fingertips grazed your stomach, then trailed higher, cupping your breast and pulling a gasp from you. The heat from his palm seeped through you, chasing away the cold, and when his thumb brushed over your cold-hardened nipple, the mewl that spilled from your lips only spurred him on. 

“Still cold?” he teased, voice thick with need as he nipped at your neck. The heat emanating from him only seemed to intensify, flashes of hot radiating from his hands and mouth like he was stoking  a flame specifically for you. 

“Ace,” you whined, trying to keep your voice steady, though it came out much shakier than intended. “We’re on the deck.”

“And no one’s around,” he countered, a grin audible in his words as his other hand gripped your hip, pressing you firmly against his growing erection. “Just you, me, and the stars.”

He continued his sensual assault on your neck, mouth alternating between kisses and teasing bites. The sharp contrast between his heat and the icy wind was dizzying, leaving your head spinning and your body responding to every flicker of warmth he offered. 

Ace’s hands roamed lower, teasing as they skated over the waistband of your pants, then back up to squeeze your hips. The cool night air licked at your exposed skin, but every inch of you seemed to burn hotter. He adjusted his stance, grinding his hips into you with a neediness that made your breath hitch. 

“Please,” he groaned, his voice breaking as he buried his face into the curve of your neck. The desperation in his tone was unguarded, raw. “Can I? Please? I promise I’ll be quick.”

The railing pressed into your stomach and you turned your head to glance at him, his freckled face bathed in moonlight, dark eyes heavy-lidded with longing. You shakily sighed, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his touch. 

He nipped at the shell of your ear before dragging his tongue along the curve of your neck. His hand slipped lower, tugging at your pants slowly. Your pants and underwear pooled around your knees and the sensation of his heated palms gripping your thighs, erasing any other thoughts. 

His hands spread you open, the rough pads of his fingers exploring every inch of you as though committing it to memory. You gasped as his fingers pressed against your slick core, impatiently circling your clit and thrusting a finger or two inside to make sure you’re at least somewhat prepared to take the needy man that’s making you gasp and tremble. 

You heard the unmistakable zrrt of his zipper sliding down, the sound cutting through sharp and foreboding. He was too close, and yet not close enough. His body was a furnace, burning hotter with every passing second, making you feel like you were on the verge of being consumed by flame. 

He leaned back to get a better view of your core as he aligned himself with you, the tip of him rubbing against your slick entrance to lubricate himself. And with a sigh, he pushed forward, entering you with one slow, deliberate thrust. You gasped at the sensation, his hot, throbbing cock filling you in ways that made your body burn just as hot as his. It was almost too much - the overwhelming heat of his body, the fire in his touch, and the harsh, desperate way he was moving. His hips snapped and met yours, pulling a yelp from you as you shifted against the railing. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, the words barely audible as his hips began to move, each thrust harder than the last. The rhythm he set was relentless, each thrust faster and more desperate than the last. One of his hands gripped your hips, bouncing you on his cock while the other wrapped around your torso, his hand landing on your breast and kneading the soft flesh while simultaneously making sure you don’t fall over the railing. The warmth from his body intensified, his bare chest searing against your clothed skin, his palms rouch and seething with his powers, and the contrast with the biting cold outside made you feel like you were in the eye of a storm. 

The molten lava of his touch moved beneath your skin, the heat utterly intoxicating. Each thrust had you whimpering and whining as the head of his cock bullied your insides over and over again. 

You tossed your head back and looked up at the man inside of you, eyes now fixated on the faint glow around his face. Ace leaned in and captured your lips in a searing kiss, slowing down his movements to taste and feel you. He rolled his hips slower, deeper into you while his tongue explored your mouth, and when he pulled back, a string of saliva connected your lips momentarily before it snapped. 

You panted, tongue barely lolling out of your mouth as you looked closer at the glow of his face, the source of it being his freckles. The dots across his face transformed before your eyes into what looked like tiny embers scattered across his cheeks. It was like watching a wildfire take over, the heat from his body so intense that it turned him into something more than human, something untouchable, and yet here he was with you– inside you– pushing you to the brink of madness.

You could feel the tension in his body, the way it coiled with raw power, and you knew that he was close. His breaths came faster, deeper, the heat of his fire licking at your skin, stroking the flames of desire that blazed between you two. His face twisted with the effort, his lips parted as he groaned your name, and you could see that final spark of control slip from his grasp. 

With one last harsh thrust, he came undone. His cock pulsed deep inside you, his body stiffening as he released hot, sticky ropes of his essence inside of you. His freckled skin glowed with a fierce intensity as the embers across his face flared brightly, a last beautiful burst of fire before he collapsed against you, his breath ragged and unsteady.

But you weren’t done yet. You had your own needs. You rocked your hips against his pulsing cock, desperate for more even as he softened inside of you and whimpered with the bursts of overstimulation you were providing him. Ace was far too exhausted to move but unwilling to leave you fulfilled, so he let his hands wander, snaking between your legs to give attention to that sensitive bundle of nerves as he let you rock yourself against his half-hard cock. 

Even as his heat dissipated, the heat building in your core seemed to grow. Your body trembled as the pleasure grew and grew, hands gripping the railing until your knuckles turned white. Ace’s fingers circled your clit with a maddening precision, your body wracked with the tremors of your rising orgasm. 

“Come on, just a little more, you got this,” he urged, voice laced with exhaustion. And with that, you shattered. It was like the stars exploded inside of you, each breath a gasp as your body locked around him. 

“Ace!” you cried, your nails digging into the railing, your body quaking with the force of the pleasure. He didn’t stop, not for a second, pushing you further into the bliss of it all. And as the last wave of pleasure hit you, your body sagged against the railing, breathless and spent as your shaky arms held yourself up.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of your breathing as you calmed down from the intensity. Ace’s fingers gently traced patterns across your skin as the warmth in his body finally began to subside. 

You were the one to break the comfortable silence, asking- no, whining- “How am I supposed to get back to bed with… all this… down my thighs?”

Ace hummed in thought, and then you felt him bend down and suddenly, Ace lifted your pants, hiking them up to contain the mess. You blinked, baffled by his sudden practicality. “Really?!” you hissed, smacking his arm as you stood, the action sending a faint throb through your body. 

“Is it not a good idea?” he chuckled, amused by your reaction as he tucked himself back to his pants. 

You shot him a glare as you attempted to properly stand so you could scurry back to your room to change your clothes, only for your legs to give out beneath you, and Ace was quick to catch you. He chuckled again, holding you securely in his arms as you groaned in defeat. 

“I think I’m gonna stay here for a minute,” you muttered, resigned. 

Ace grinned at you, holding you a little tighter as the two of you lingered until the cold air finally started to settle in, but you knew he wouldn’t let you freeze tonight, and you sure as hell felt that silent promise as his powers flared up once again to keep you warm in his arms.

[not-magdi]

-it has always been you / lando Norris

Warnings: Alkohol, some weird dude

Words: 1.5k

Reading Time: 6min 25sec

A/N

Some cute friends to lovers trope cause I‘m bored :)

Hope you love it !

Y/N and Lando had been inseparable for years. Their friendship had started in the most unexpected way—a fateful encounter at a karting event when they were kids.

Y/N’s brother had been racing that day, and she had found herself sitting alone on a cold metal bench, watching the drivers zip around the track. Lando, always full of energy and curiosity, had plopped down beside her, still in his racing suit and smelling faintly of rubber and fuel.

“You look bored,” he had said with a cheeky grin.

“I’m not,” she had replied, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Yes, you are,” he had insisted, before launching into an animated explanation of how he was going to win the championship one day. That was the start of it all.

Over the years, they had become best friends, sharing everything from late-night texts about random thoughts to spontaneous road trips when life felt too heavy. Y/N was one of the few people who truly understood Lando’s hectic lifestyle, and in turn, Lando was her anchor in a world that sometimes felt overwhelming.

But while their friendship had always been easy and natural, Y/N had been harbouring feelings for Lando for quite some time. She’d never acted on them, fearing it would ruin the bond they had. And she was convinced Lando didn’t feel the same way. Why would he? He was charming, successful, and adored by fans worldwide.

-----

Tonight, their friends Max and Pietra had insisted on a night out. Y/N had initially resisted, claiming she was too tired, but Pietra wasn’t having it.

“Come on, Y/N,” Pietra had said, practically dragging her off the couch.

“You never go out anymore. You need this. Besides, we can all use a little fun.”

“Don’t worry,” Lando had chimed in with his usual playful smirk. “I’ll make sure you don’t embarrass yourself too much.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Y/N had shot back, rolling her eyes but secretly glad he was coming.

-----

The club was alive with energy, a pulsating mix of lights and music that seemed to electrify the room. Y/N followed Max, Pietra, and Lando through the crowd, her senses overwhelmed in the best possible way. The air was heavy with the scent of perfume, alcohol, and the faint metallic tang of sweat, but it was all part of the atmosphere.

Max was the first to hit the dance floor, his exuberance unmatched as he flailed his arms in exaggerated, dramatic moves. “This is my signature!” he shouted over the music, spinning in a circle.

Y/N burst into laughter, holding onto Pietra for balance as the latter tried to mimic his wild movements. “Max, you look ridiculous!” she called out, but her voice was nearly drowned out by the pounding bass.

“That’s the point!” he yelled back, sticking his tongue out before attempting a failed moonwalk.

Lando lingered close to Y/N, his usual cheeky grin plastered on his face. “Remind me to never let him dance at my wedding,” he joked, leaning in so she could hear him better.

“You say that like you’re not just as bad,” Y/N quipped, shooting him a playful glance.

“Excuse me,” Lando replied, feigning offence. “I have moved. You’re just not ready for them.”

“Oh, I’m ready,” she teased, her smile wide.

Lando nudged her shoulder with his, chuckling. “We’ll see about that.”

They found a spot near the edge of the dance floor, where Lando casually leaned against the wall, his eyes occasionally scanning the room. But his gaze always seemed to find its way back to Y/N. She was laughing more than usual, her face glowing in the neon light. He couldn’t help but admire how the stress of her week seemed to melt away.

“You having fun yet?” he asked, leaning down so his lips were close to her ear.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes bright. “Actually, yeah,” she admitted, her shoulders relaxing as the rhythm of the music washed over her.

Pietra returned moments later, handing Y/N a cocktail in a glass rimmed with sugar. “Here, try this. It’s amazing,” she said, her excitement evident.

Y/N took a tentative sip, her lips puckering slightly at the sweetness. “Wow, that’s good.”

“See? Told you!” Pietra beamed before disappearing back into the crowd with Max.

Y/N took another sip, then another. The drink was deceptively light, the alcohol masked by the sugary flavour. Before long, Pietra was back with another, and Y/N—caught up in the excitement—didn’t hesitate to take it.

By the time she was halfway through her third drink, the room felt warmer, the lights brighter, and her laughter came easier. Everything seemed a little funnier, a little lighter as if the weight she had been carrying all week had finally lifted.

“Easy there,” Lando said when she stumbled slightly, catching her by the arm before she could lose her balance. His grip was steady, grounding.

Y/N looked up at him, her giggles bubbling over. “What? I’m fine!” she insisted, though her unsteady footing said otherwise.

“You’re having a little too much fun,” he teased, his voice warm but laced with concern.

“Isn’t that the point of tonight?” she shot back, her words slurring slightly.

Lando chuckled, his hand lingering on her arm as he guided her back to a less crowded spot. “Alright, I’ll give you that. But maybe slow down a bit?”

“Party pooper,” she mumbled, sticking her tongue out at him.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress his grin. Y/N rarely let loose like this, and while he loved seeing her happy, a part of him couldn’t shake the need to keep her safe.

As they stood off to the side, Y/N’s attention was caught by a man weaving his way through the crowd toward her. She didn’t notice the way Lando’s posture tensed, his playful demeanour replaced by a quiet vigilance.

The man stopped in front of her, his height forcing her to crane her neck to meet his gaze. “Hey there,” he said, flashing what he probably thought was a charming smile. “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

Y/N offered a polite smile, stepping back slightly. “Oh, I’m just here with friends.”

He didn’t take the hint. “Well, lucky for me I found you. Can I buy you a drink?”

“No, thanks,” she replied, her voice tight. She glanced at Lando, who was already stepping closer.

The man leaned in, his tone dropping. “Aw, come on. Just one.”

Before Y/N could respond, Lando was at her side, his arm slipping around her waist with practised ease. The gesture was protective but natural as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Hey, babe,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Everything okay?”

Y/N looked up at him, her relief palpable. “Yeah,” she murmured, leaning into his side.

The man’s expression shifted, annoyance flickering across his face. “Didn’t realize she was taken,” he muttered, backing off with a forced smile.

“Yeah, she is,” Lando said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As the man disappeared into the crowd, Y/N exhaled a shaky breath. “Thank you,” she said, looking up at Lando with wide eyes.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his hand lingering on her waist for a moment longer before letting go. “Let’s get some air.”

-----

Outside, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the heat of the club. Y/N shivered slightly, and without a word, Lando shrugged off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders.

“Lando, you’ll freeze,” she protested, though she made no move to take it off.

“I’ll survive,” he said with a small smile. “Besides, you need it more than I do.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the distant hum of the city filling the air. Y/N clutched his jacket, her mind replaying the scene from the club.

“When you said you were my boyfriend…” she began hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It… it made me feel something. Something good.”

Lando turned to her, his expression unreadable. “Yeah?”

She nodded, her cheeks flushing. “I know you were just pretending, but… I’ve thought about it before. You and me.”

He stepped closer, his heart pounding. “You have?”

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “For a while now. I just didn’t think you felt the same.”

Lando reached out, his fingers brushing against hers. “Y/N,” he said softly. “I’ve liked you for so long, but I was afraid I’d ruin what we have.”

“You wouldn’t ruin anything,” she whispered, meeting his gaze.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the world around them fading away. Then, slowly, Lando leaned in, giving her every opportunity to pull away. She didn’t. Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss that deepened as their feelings finally found an outlet.

When they pulled apart, Y/N smiled, her forehead resting against his. “So… not just pretending, then?”

“Not even a little bit,” he replied, his voice warm and full of affection.

As they walked back into the club, hand in hand, Max and Pietra spotted them immediately.

“About time,” Max said with a grin, clinking his glass against Pietra’s.

Y/N and Lando laughed, but neither let go of the other’s hand for the rest of the night.

——-

Don’t forget to leave a note if you enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome !🩷

[chrissturnsfav]

so i have tbis fic idea right...

so what of dealer!chris bought bun a vibrator right and its like set on his ohone, and while they're out with friends he does thomgs and she bas to hide her expressions and stuff

(IK THIS IS BAD IM SORRYY🙏🙏)

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐒���𝐑𝐄

dealer!chris puts a vibrator in your panties, finding it funny how you struggle to keep your composure while on a few deals with him.

ᰔᩚ smut, dealer!chris, edging, clitoral stimulation, vibrator stimulation, teasing, pet names

ᰔᩚ w.c. 2,138

ᰔᩚ changed up this request a little! hope you don't mind :)

chris has one hand on the plush skin of your thigh, the pad of his thumb stroking it—the other hand on the wheel as he drives through a shady looking neighborhood.

it's about nine p.m., the front windows down, your hair blowing in the wind as the hard rap music blaring from the car's speakers fills your ears, the scent of weed coming from the blunt between chris' lips filling your nose.

"can't believe you actually gon' lemme do this shit," chris snickers, a smirk on his lips, his voice slightly muffled by the blunt in his mouth as he glances over at you.

you look over at him beside you with a pout, huffing quietly as the moonlight casts a dim glimmer over your angelic face.

chris studies your features as he comes to a red light, taking a toke off the blunt as he snickers and exhales the smoke, squeezing your thigh and then patting it. "funny how y'look like an angel, but you a fuckin' freak at heart," he teases you.

your cheeks heat up in an instant, your gaze shifting to look in front of you as you huff in embarrassment under your breath, uncomfortably adjusting your lacy mini skirt that rests on your upper thighs.

chris just smirks and snickers at you in response, placing the blunt back between his lips as the light turns green, his foot moving to the gas pedal.

a few minutes go by, and the both of you are soon pulling up to the house of the first customer. you know what's coming, your heart pounding out of your chest as you nervously toy with the bow on your lacy tank top.

chris notices your nervous demeanor as he shoots the customer a text, letting them know he's outside. he tosses his phone back in his lap, smirking at you, "y'ready, kid?"

"stop it," you mutter, your head swirling anxiously, palms clammy as you keep your gaze on your lap.

footsteps can be heard through chris' open window, the smirk growing on his lips as he opens his phone. he taps a few buttons and by the time the customer is hopping in the backseat, you're practically sinking in your seat.

the vibrator inside your panties sends jolts of pleasure through you, immediately having your thighs shaking. heat floods through you as you stare up at the car's ceiling, trying to hold yourself together. but a little gasp escapes your lips when you feel your clit throb while the vibrator shakes inside you, your hips jerking instinctively.

chris glares at you as he takes a hit from his blunt, nudging your thigh before turning to look at the customer in the backseat, who's completely oblivious to what's going on with you.

while you bite down hard on your plush bottom lip, squeezing your eyes shut as your hands dig into the sides of the leather, chris hands the customer his order. you don't even know what it is, too worried that if you turn your head, the customer will see the look of ecstasy on your face.

as the customer hands chris an envelope of cash, their voices blur together in your messy head, your face tightly scrunched together as you desperately try to bite back a mewl, the vibrator making your toes curl in your shoes and your hands clammy.

but it's over as soon as it started, the customer exiting the car as chris hits a button on his phone, stopping all the torturous pleasure in your panties.

he looks at you with a smirk, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip as you let out a loud exhale. "told you to make sure y'stay quiet, yeah?"

you nod, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink as you gnaw on your bottom lip. "yeah..."

"be a good girl f'me, don't make a sound. 'kay?" he says with a firmness that makes your heart flutter and your panties stickier than they already had become, chris taking a small toke off his blunt.

you swallow thickly, nodding as he begins to drive to the next customer's house.

and then it's happening again, the customer climbs into the backseat while you're sitting in the front in complete, silent ecstasy.

you feel more desperate and needy as your fingers clench tightly around your skirt. your pussy clenches around the vibrator in your soaked panties, and you can see the cheeky grin that crawls across chris' lips as he glances at you while handing the customer a small baggie of pills.

your thighs are shaking, your teeth sinking so hard into your bottom lip that you're about to draw blood, giving everything inside you to not lose it right here with the customer in the backseat.

as the customer pays chris, your hands fly to dig into the leather of the seat on either side of you as you rub your shaky thighs together, your high just out of reach.

you're getting closer and closer as they have a quick conversation, your toes curling tightly in your shoes as you meekly loll your head back against the headrest, pussy clenching around the vibrator as the knot grows in your tummy, your eyes squeezed shut. the knot grows tighter, tighter, t—

and then it's gone.

you fail to even notice that the customer has started walking back into your house, your breath unsteady as your eyes fly open, a needy look in your eyes as you see the customer heading up their front steps.

you're left whining in your seat, desperately trying to rub your thighs together for some type of friction, but it's too late. the pleasure is gone.

chris laughs smugly at you, that same stupid smirk on his lips as he shifts the car into drive, "aww, you were so close, hm?" he coos tauntingly, making your heart pound as he tosses the now used blunt out the window.

you glare at him out of your peripheral, your bottom lip jutted out in a needy pout as you whimper desperately, "chris, please..."

that makes his smirk deepen, his hand shifting to squeeze your thigh as he begins to drive, making you shiver. "use them words, f'me. tell me what ya want," he tells you as he exhales a cloud of smoke out the window.

you squeeze your thighs together, swallowing thickly as you huff shakily, your mind left in a desperate frenzy as your pussy throbs painfully, panties sticking uncomfortably to your folds. "i-i need...please...i...turn it back on...please?" you babble, stuttering nervously as your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"i know," he coos again, squeezing your thigh making your breath hitch—that's how sensitive you are. "got ten minutes to the next house, sure you'll get to cum by then," he smirks.

by the time you're at the next house, you're not sure how much more you can take. you're praying that this takes long enough for you to cum, but you're also fearful about making any noises if it happens.

as chris hands the customer their order in the backseat, you're shaking in your own seat. your hips buck up, gripping the hem of your skirt with white knuckles as your walls clench tightly around the vibrating device, feeling the pool of sticky nectar between your legs soaking through the thin fabric of your panties, practically leaking onto the seat.

your head falls back against the headrest, your breath caught in your throat as your eyes pinch shut, desperate to not make any noise, desperate to keep your composure as chris and the customer deal.

you're getting close again—that same knot in your belly bubbling tightly, only better than the last time. your thighs shake as you desperately try and squeeze them together, trying your absolute best to remain calm and composed.

your mind is a frantic mess, unable to focus on anything but the pleasure as you squirm in your seat, your body jolting with each vibration sent through your dripping cunt as you teeter on the brink of an orgasm.

you don't even realize chris is talking to you until he nudges your shoulder, abruptly making your head snap to look at him. your eyes are filled with tears of torturous pleasure, your lips pressed together firmly in a thin line. he bites back a smirk, ignoring the way his hardened cock twitches in his jeans. "say bye to tyler, kid," he says and you almost panic.

you swallow thickly, squeezing your thighs together as you let out a shaky breath, trying to desperately ignore your orgasm being right behind you. you slowly turn your head to look at tyler in the backseat—your cheeks red and your forehead sticky with sweat. "b-b...b...bye," you babble.

tyler furrows his brows, snickering at you. your heart drops to your toes as you snap your head back in front of you, your gummy walls clenching tightly around the vibrator that threatens to push you over the edge while you desperately hold back your orgasm.

"bye."

once tyler exits the car, you're robbed from your orgasm a second time. as the jolts of pleasure stop abruptly in your body, you let out a whimper, reaching over to curl your fingers tightly around chris' wrist, a desperate and needy look in your eyes, brows furrowed. "please, please, i-i-i can't—i need it," you whine as he begins to drive.

chris smirks at that, shifting the car into drive as he pulls away from the curb, prodding the inside of his cheek with his tongue. "think y'deserve it?" he asks smugly as he pulls out his phone.

you nod your head frantically with eager, tightening your grip on his wrist, your poor pussy throbbing in your panties that seep through with slick. "p-please, please, chris—i-i can't, i-i need—"

you're cut off when the vibrator starts wracking inside you again, a loud, bottled up whine of relief and pleasure slipping from your lips. your knuckles turn white as you grip his wrist harder, throwing your head back against the headrest.

"a-ah...ah..." you whimper, your eyes squeezing shut as you pant through gritted teeth, your legs squirming in your seat as your other hand flies to grip the hem of your skirt tightly. all the pleasure is intensifying inside you, and you're so close yet again—painfully close.

"that's it, mama," chris praises you, glancing at you beside him with a smug smirk, "you gonna cum in your panties? y'deserve it, look at me," he rips his wrist from your grasp, moving to gently but firmly grab your jaw and force your lidded eyes brimming with tears on him.

you whimper and whine, your thighs shaking as you squirm in your seat, the smirk on chris' lips making your sopping pussy flutter around the vibrator. "there ya go, want you to look at me when y'cum."

"c-chris...chris...i-i," your words are jumbled, barely coherent as he releases his grip on your jaw, but your head stays in his direction. tears of pleasure drop down your hot cheeks, your orgasm just out of reach. "shhh..." he hushes you in a cocky yet soft tone, licking his lips as his dick twitches in his jeans.

and then it all comes crashing down when chris slithers a hand beneath your skirt, rubbing tight circles on your needy pearl. he keeps the smirk on his lips while he watches you cum, his other hand on the wheel, occasionally darting his eyes to the road.

your entire body shakes, a loud cry leaving your open mouth when you come as your hips buck involuntarily upwards, jolts of intense pleasure coursing through your body. you're whimpering, your mind a clouded, jumbled mess of pure euphoria that you've needed for so long.

chris grunts under his breath nodding his head as he helps you ride out your high, rubbing hard circles on your swollen clit as he watches you pant and whimper, coming down from the intense ecstasy.

"atta girl," he praises, pulling his fingers out of your wet panties, sucking the nectar off his digits. "there we go."

you pant and whimper, your vision blurry as you come back to your senses, eyes fluttering shut while you come down from your high.

chris' smug smirk turns softer as he stops at a red light, patting your flushed cheek gently as he nods, "good girl, bun, did so fuckin' good f'me."

but then, you're confused when he pulls into an empty, secluded parking lot, one you've always visited with him late at night. your brows furrow, still a little breathless as you glance over at him.

chris is smirking at you, running his tongue over the bottom row of his teeth as his eyes flit down the hard bulge in his jeans. he nods in your direction, "my turn."

thank you for reading!! <3

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[hellfire--cult]

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️18+: angst, jealousy, possessiveness, eddie being a jerk, smut

wc: 10.6k

A/N: Sorry for the lack of update, i am not proud of this chapter BUT its the beginning of the angst loves. not proud of how i portrayed words here but its okay its fine, thank u @andvys for proofreading it ❤️

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

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CHAPTER 20

He wiped his forehead for the seventh time in the past five minutes. 

The heat inside his shop was being a little suffocating now that the spring completely rolled over. It was humid and everything just felt too sticky. Every tool he grabbed almost slipped out of his hands thanks to the grease and sweat. He looked around to see Jeff in the same situation, working shirtless over a mustang’s open hood. 

“I am going to get the AC fixed, I didn’t think the heat would come so quickly Jeff.” Eddie sighed, feeling a bit horrible with himself for making his friend work with these conditions. Jeff only chuckled, shaking his head, grabbing the rag from the back pocket of his jeans and wiping his hands with it.

“Not your fault, Eds. You can’t control the weather… but yes, please, fix this.” He pointed at the high ceiling where the ventilation system was located. Eddie groaned and nodded, getting up from the stool he was sitting on, flexing his body and deciding to discard his shirt that was drenched in sweat from working hunched over for over an hour. 

He stretched his neck all around as he tightened the bun in his head. He sometimes wanted to chop all of his hair off when it was work and heat coming together. The hair stuck to his face and it felt so wrong, and the amount of times he has to wash it in the spring and summer is insane… but no. He would never chop his beautiful mane, as he calls it, away just because of some temporary distress. 

He heard Jeff start coughing loudly, and Eddie turned around to see his friend looking wide eyed at him, his own fist punching his sternum while Eddie stood completely baffled, not knowing what happened to his friend.

“The fuck happened–”

“Holy fucking shit, your back! Were you attacked by a fucking animal or something man!?” And Eddie was confused for just one more second until– Oh.

He felt a twitch in his pants as he realized what marks he was talking about. The nail scratches all over his back, on his biceps, on his chest… The bite marks and hickeys that lingered on his collarbone and some on his thighs that he couldn’t see thanks to his jeans. They were so intense that they popped out just like his tattoos. Eddie cleared his throat as he grabbed the rag behind his back pocket, a smirk displaying on his features as he started to clean the sweat off his chest a bit with it.

“Uh, sure, you can call it that.” Jeff whistled as his eyes stared wide eyed at his friend. 

“Well fuck… I’ve never seen you marked up like this. She’s good GOOD, isn’t she?” And Eddie’s mind wandered back to two days ago, how the two of you were driving back from Jonathan’s bar and you had a few more drinks than he had, making you bold and confident. You had rubbed your hand all over him through the whole ride to your house, making him lose his self control minute by minute. 

You had leaned over at red lights, kissed his neck, bit his shoulder that made him hiss, and when you two finally arrived at your home, the moment you closed the door, you slammed him against it and dropped to your knees. You controlled the night. He was stunned and just purely amazed by you. Every encounter was something new and– you two couldn’t keep your hands off eachother. 

Out of the seven days of the week, you two fucked four or even five. A month passed since you two started this new agreement, and he never in his life felt this much desire towards someone. He assumes it’s because of your capability to do things his other hookups had yet to match. It must be it.

“She is… excellent. The best I’ve ever fucking had, Jeff.” His friend whistles again at that, pointing at Eddie’s back with a proud chuckle.

“I can see that. I’ve never in my life seen those marks on you.”

“I’m not one to let himself be marked easily.” And it was the truth, and Jeff tilted his head, squinting his eyes, a playful smile appearing on his lips as Eddie frowned. “What?”

“I think someone is falling a little deeper than he should~” He groaned loudly at Jeff’s words, rolling his eyes, pushing away the fact his stomach did some turn at them.

“No, I am not. I just get too lost in it and forget to tell her not to.” Eddie retorts, crossing his arms over his chest as Jeff raises an accusatory eyebrow at him.

“Right. So this is just fucking then? Just a little hook-up every now and then?” He asks with a cheeky tone behind his voice, making Eddie squint and push his friend on the arm, making Jeff laugh. 

“What else?” 

“She the only one?” At that Eddie stopped in his tracks, his eyes getting a bit lost at the question because– you were. For some reason, he couldn’t be with anyone else, and he had hovered over the messaging button on past girls' Instagrams… But he always went back to your chat.

He never did exclusivity. It was too intimate, too private, and the last thing he wanted was to make things complicated. He didn’t want them to be complicated with you, and if they did become that way, things might end, and he doesn’t want them to end, not this soon. But you two are just having sex, yet the idea of someone else touching you was making him clench his fists tightly every now and then. 

He wondered if you felt that same kind of worry or passing thought with him. Wondered if he was sleeping with other girls, if he talked to others. This is just because of who he is, no more than that. He ignores the fact this hasn’t happened with any of his past hook-ups, better to be oblivious than think too much over it.

“Um–” As he opened his mouth to talk, not really knowing if he was going to tell the truth or deny it, the small garage door opened, the one made for employees, and Steve walked in with three bags of food in his hand. Eddie sighed with relief, feeling saved by a god or something and Jeff rolled his eyes, but immediately put the rag away as his mouth salivated when he saw Steve walking towards them with food.

“Hello there ladies– HOLY SHIT!” Steve jumped a bit as he saw Eddie’s body and– fuck.

“I had the same fucking reaction Steve.” Jeff commented, chuckling as he saw Eddie’s glare towards him before turning back to talk to Steve who was checking him out with his jaw dropped and a frown in his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I’m having sex, where’s the shock in that?” But Steve’s eyes were still roaming him from head to toe, never having seen Eddie in this state. 

��Oh nothing, is your partner a fucking bear?” Jeff snorted, making Eddie glare at him with everything in him.

“I asked the same shit man… But no, it is in fact a woman.” With that, Jeff grabs one of the food bags from Steve’s hands as Eddie rips one in anger, making Steve whistle just like Jeff had done minutes before. 

“Does the woman identify as wolverine or some shit?” Steve finally laughed, but Eddie could sense the curiosity in his friend as a frown was still etched in his eyebrows. He was a bit nervous at the prospect of Steve interrogating him, but he could play it off as one of the many hookups he had. But– The problem was, Steve knows all about them. This is the first time he saw Eddie this way, all marked, bitten, completely ravished.

“I am just that good Steve. Want to try?” He jokingly asked and Steve scoffed, shaking his head as Jeff chuckled, closing the hood of the car and sitting on it, opening the bag on his lap. Eddie’s nose scrunched up, snapping his fingers at his friend. “Not in the client’s car.” “It’s going to get washed and polished either way.” Jeff retorted and Eddie rolled his eyes, not wanting to acknowledge that Steve’s eyes were still on him. He turned to his brown-haired friend, trying to gulp down the nerves.

“Thanks for bringing the food man.” He peeked inside the bag, mouth salivating as he saw the pastrami sandwich Jonathan makes at his bar. It’s delicious, one of Eddie’s favorites. 

“Don’t mention it… Eddie–” Suddenly, the door opened once again and his eyes widened, heart stopping for a second. Soft heel sounds were heard and echoed through the whole shop, rustles of bags and– oh, fuck.

The moment the three men came into view, you stopped in your tracks.

Eddie could see the emotions running all over your body, your face frozen as you saw Steve staring at you, confused by your sudden presence, but Jeff wasn’t. He was used to you being here, not knowing what had been happening between you and Eddie. Eddie disguised it as you coming in to ask about your car, not to arrange when and where the two of you would fuck after work. Not at all.

“I– Hi.” Your voice was small and Eddie almost winced at it. His eyes roamed your body as you got closer, and it felt like his body turned a switch and something ignited inside of him. It was automatic. Every time he saw you, it was as if there was this predatory trait in him, something in you making him go feral, primal.

You were wearing that stupid ass office attire he dreamed of staining with his fluids mixed with yours, of maybe ripping a button or two. That grey skirt, grey blazer with that turquoise blouse peeking from inside, and those low heels that for some reason make him go insane. His eyes then fell to the three bags in your hand, his face trying to conceal a wince as he realized you had the same idea Steve had.

Your eyes were fixated on him, slowly roamed over his exposed body and arms, and he saw how your breathing hitched, how it lost its pace for a second, how your eyes darkened and your lips trembled slightly. He wanted to smile victoriously, but he would give himself away if he did… but as soon as that lustful look on your eyes appeared, he sensed the panic. Steve saw your marks. Jeff saw your marks. 

“More food, fuck yeah.” Jeff interrupted and your eyes went towards him and then glanced at Eddie once, and– a sinking feeling came to his stomach. He didn’t like that look in your eyes. He saw how you turned to face Jeff once again, and you fucking smiled sweetly at him. 

Oh, fuck no.

“Y-Yeah! I just… thought you guys might be hungry and I know all the work you guys have lately so–” And Eddie felt his jaw tense up. Steve though… his eyes were going between you and Jeff, and he was trying to conceal a smile. 

“Well, Stevie here had the same idea.” Eddie’s voice was low, rough, and he had to force his mouth open to talk because if he hadn’t he would have spoken through his teeth. Your eyes went towards him and then all over his body. You had the nerve to scrunch your face in disgust, an eyebrow going up in question.

“Did you fall into a lion enclosure at the local zoo or what?” At that, Jeff and Steve snorted, looking away momentarily from the two of you. Eddie’s eyes were now on you, and he felt like he wanted to bend you over and show these two what he could do to you. Your mouth is being really brave right now when he can turn you into a stupid mess in the matter of seconds.

But he also understood how you two had to act. He understood what your idea was and you were being smart… Still, he glared at you, and he saw how you shivered underneath his gaze. His jaw clenched once before he gave a forced smile, a warning towards you.

“These just means I do a good job.” His eyes turn to Jeff. “You can’t say the same, huh?” 

Your eyes widened as well as Steve’s. Jeff turned to look at Eddie, a frown appearing on his eyebrows in confusion at his friend’s anger towards him. He was about to open his mouth but Steve suddenly stepped in between, a fake smile on his lips as he looked at Eddie.

“Eds, let’s go to the office, I wanna talk to you about something.” Eddie saw how Steve gave a quick pointed look towards Jeff and yourself and– He wanted to punch someone. Why did you have to go and tell people you were fucking Jeff? Why not a random guy? Even if you were right, and they have bought into the idea that Eddie was yours and Jeff’s wingman, he did not see this confrontation coming.

“Y-Yeah! You two go talk, I’ll keep Jeff company!” Your voice was high-pitched and sweet, and with the act of being excited and Eddie wanted to choke you. Steve was buying your whole show and Jeff was plainly confused. Your eyes were on his brown ones and you gave a raise of eyebrows as if telling him to go with Steve, to follow your lead.

He sighed and nodded, but his blood temperature elevated when he saw Steve turn around and wink at you and Jeff before turning with Eddie and heading up to his office. It’s just an act. It’s something that was going to happen sooner or later. But now, Jeff will have to know, won’t he? There’s no way of covering that one up. His heart was hammering in his chest and it’s just this stupid sense of possession he has over you and–

He opened his office door, and walked inside to drop the bag on his desk, sitting on his chair with a huff, rubbing his hand over his face as Steve closed the door behind him, a smile still on his stupid face. 

“Well, I think that our little lady is smitten.” He felt annoyed at those words as he walked over to his mini fridge, opening it to take two bottles of coke out, while Steve put the food bags on his table, already opening them to reveal the pastrami sandwiches he had gotten with fries. He let out the breath he was holding in his stomach, feeling it growl in hunger and the scent of food filled his nostrils, making him sit down immediately.

“What makes you say that?” He asked, intrigued even if irritated because… if he thought that of Jeff, then it meant that you would appear like that with him. You didn’t bring food or visit Jeff in particular. You came to do those things with him. Steve shrugged, sitting down on the seat in front of his desk, across from Eddie, as he started opening his sandwich.

“Coming to the shop just because?” That wasn’t a good enough reason for you to be smitten, wasn't it?

“It really doesn’t mean anything. She came to the shop before, many times.” Steve frowned at Eddie’s words, taking a fry into his mouth.

“Just to bring in food?” Fuck.

“Uh, yeah. We became good friends.” He hoped his voice didn’t give him away, though, it wasn’t entirely a lie. You didn’t show up just because, but this wasn’t the first time you brought food with you. Even if you came to the shop because of your car before, the having lunch together part is not entirely new.

“And it still baffles me.”

“Aw, you afraid she will take your place?” Eddie snickered and his best friend rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his sandwich as Eddie opened his own, licking his lips in anticipation as his stomach growled.

“As if. Does she know what I know?” Steve asked and Eddie stopped midway on taking his first bite. He closed his mouth and cleared his throat, a small shake of his head.

“No.” And just like that, Steve scoffed in victory and Eddie took his first big bite, moaning as he closed his eyes in delight. They kept eating for a minute in pure silence, and Eddie was grateful for that until Steve decided to be a fucking menace.

“So… Who is she?” “Huh?” Steve pointed to his shoulder blades with a fry pinched in between his fingers.

“Leopard girl. Wolverine. I don’t know, whoever the fuck it is.” Steve ate the fry and Eddie thought he wasn’t going to question it at all but he knew he was wrong in that. Eddie took another bite of his sandwich, taking his time to chew so he could think of something, making Steve roll his eyes at the theatrics. 

“Um– Just… A friend of a client of mine.” He lied, trying to make this person as unknown as possible to make it seem like the actual woman he was fucking was not a few steps away from them. 

“Explain?” “She came to fix her car after her friend recommended us to her.” Eddie took another bite of his sandwich as he felt the nerves making his heart beat into his chest, and he could hear the pumping of his own blood rushing in his ears as he saw how Steve was looking at him.

“And is she like… a recurrent hookup?” And Eddie pondered that question because… he just had to lie about who he was fucking, didn’t he? “Oh yeah. Not letting her go any time soon Steve.” And it felt good to tell someone about it. To tell someone about you without really saying it was you. Steve smiled as he leaned forward, putting his crossed arms on the desk as he gave Eddie his full attention.

“Well, I never thought I’d hear that from you.” Steve’s face was one of shock and amusement as he looked at his best friend. Eddie noticed, yet, nodded slowly as he took the last bite of his sandwich. His mind suddenly filled with your encounters, never more than a fuck, never less than just that. 

“She… I– I enjoy sex with her. I enjoy it very much, Steve. For the first time ever I feel entirely satisfied with someone.” Eddie wasn’t looking into his friend’s eyes, just picking into his fries as his mind was elsewhere. Steve’s eyes were wide, staring at Eddie in shock, amusement, and some worry etched within.

“That’s certainly something I never heard from you, Eds… What makes her different from the rest?” Eddie took a fry into his mouth as he thought, a wave of something he doesn’t know how to identify rushing over him as your face popped up in his head.

“I mean, we started as friends, you know… Just messaging eachother, and then one day it just happened… She–” He felt his cheeks flush completely and Steve’s face was one of understanding, looking down at Eddie’s fidgeting fingers.

“Not the usual… size troubles, I assume?” And Eddie slowly shook his head, making Steve even more intrigued. He got nervous for his best friend, his thumb going to his mouth to bite onto the edge of it as he thought. Eddie’s eyes found Steve’s gaze moved somewhere else, making him frown.

“What is it?” “I mean, Eds… You sound kind of serious with this girl.” 

What? “Huh? No. I assure you, it’s nothing serious, Steve. We–” Did he? Did he sound serious about you? No, absolutely no. He has never sounded serious about anyone before. It just sounds like it because it is the first time he has been with the same hook up for so long.

“You never talk to me about your affairs. I mean, sure you told me about some chicks you slept with, but they were always complaints… This one is–” 

And Eddie realized he had never talked about a single good moment he had with a woman before with Steve. He had them, he sure has, but never in the extent he had them with you. You felt like nothing ever before, and that didn’t make you serious, it just made you– special. Just that. 

“I know, but I promise you, it’s nothing like that. It’s just sex.” He felt his words choking him up slightly, but he cleared his throat, trying to take the lump he got away. Steve’s eyes found his and then went down towards Eddie’s body.

“It’s just… you letting her do that means you aren’t sleeping with anyone else but her, isn’t it?” Oh he got busted. Eddie bit his bottom lip as he felt his stomach closing in on him, not knowing why Steve was making a big deal out of him sleeping with just one person.

“Am I that promiscuous?” He tried to play it off as a joke, but his best friend sighed, shaking his head.

“Eddie, I never heard you talk about a woman before, much less see you only sleeping with one and just one. Are you two exclusive?” 

“What?” “Are you exclusive to eachother?” And that conversation was something that never happened between the two of you again. He hadn’t slept with anyone but you, he never told you it, and probably never will, but it was because he was satisfied with you. You met his needs and that was the deal of it… but he wondered if it was the same for you. He wondered if you slept with others but him. He wondered if he was the only one. 

But no. Exclusivity means that the relationship is heading to a more serious tone and Eddie does not want that. You surely don’t want that. He won’t talk about this to you anytime soon, yet, answering the question to Steve felt like he was being punctured by needles in the tip of his tongue.

“No. We are not.” That tasted like piss in his fucking mouth. Why? You two are not exclusive, and probably never will be. That tasted even worse in his mind.

“It’s just– You gotta tell her if–”

“We are not exclusive and we will never be a couple. Drop it, Steve.” At his sharp words, Steve’s eyebrows met in the middle in a frown.

“That’s because you avoid it! Eddie, I’m sure someone out there doesn’t care about your condition! This is the first time I hear you talk about a girl this way and you are letting her go–”

“I am not letting her go! I have no one to let go of because we are just fucking, Harrington! Fucking! I’m so sorry I don’t have the perfect love story you and Johnny had, or Nance and Robin. Hell, even Argyle and Eden!” He was angry now, he didn’t want to be but talking about this matter just made him become infuriated at his friend. Why did he make such a big deal out of this? Why question him about his decisions? 

“Perfect!? I had to endure watching Johnny flirt for about a year until he decided we were more than friends with benefits.” And Eddie remembered that distinctively. Steve crying on his shoulder after he saw Jonathan flirt with someone… even with you. After the night they met you, and Jonathan asked you out, he went to his home with Robin, consoling him. Another reason for his stupid hatred towards you when you didn’t know Steve at the time. You didn’t know Steve was in love with Jonathan, much less they were sleeping together.

Eddie’s jaw clenched as he looked away, trying to avoid his best friend’s gaze. He knew all of his friends had their hardships with their relationships, but it didn’t mean his would be more than just a fuck buddy system thing. It doesn't mean that you two will become a couple. He can’t do that. He knows a relationship with him means that it will meet an impending doom at one point or the other. He was meant to fail.

“It’s not going to turn serious. It can’t.” Eddie’s voice was small, and Steve’s demeanor softened, a low sigh escaping him as he looked at his best friend with a pitiful look in his eyes.

“You are insufferable. You know that?” Eddie chuckled and looked up to see Steve smiling at him.

“You told me once or twice.” Steve nodded once as he started throwing all the wrappings into one of the food bags he brought.

“You think they’re fucking? Should I stay a bit longer up here?” “Huh?” Eddie was confused until Steve smirked and nodded towards the door. The long-haired man wanted to crack his neck from the sudden annoyance that washed over him. 

“No, Jeff knows that he should not do that at work. I’d have to fire him.” Eddie said as he got up from his chair, his heart beating in his chest with something he couldn’t pinpoint what. It was a feeling of nervousness, or of anticipation, or worry as he got closer to the door. He heard Steve getting up to follow him as he opened the door and–

He stopped.

You giggled as your hand rubbed Jeff’s cheek while he sat on the hood of the car he fixed. You were in between his legs, his hands were on your waist and to your hips as you two giggled with eachother, intimately. Steve stood next to Eddie, smirking, looking down at how you looked radiant once again after a few months of not doing so after your break up. As if remembering what Eddie had told him, he cleared his throat loudly.

Jeff’s eyes looked up the stairs, wincing as he ripped his hands away from you, making you gasp as you pulled away, acting ashamed as you looked down at the floor and fixed your blazer. Steve elbowed Eddie a few times before starting to head down, not noticing the state his best friend was in.

Eddie’s chest was rumbling. 

He was seeing red. He wanted to rip Jeff’s head off and then claim you in front of him, even in front of Steve. He wanted nothing more than to show off how dumb he could get you. How sweaty and how desperate you looked when you were underneath him. It was something he hadn’t anticipated and the fact was, he didn’t know if it’s a plan or not from you and Jeff. He knows it is, but his brain, his very own self is making him think Jeff is taking you from him. 

But this was the reality he was in. He couldn’t do what he wanted to do with you, not in front of them. They didn’t know you two were an item. He has to remind himself of that part, of that little detail in order not to lose you. If he fucks up, and you decide to cut everything off, he doesn’t know how he could cope with the need you fill. The need you satisfy, and for now, it is you only.

He slowly walked down the stairs while Jeff smirked your way and then looked around as if shy, only making him get angrier, but he has to fucking calm down. He started feeling how his palms started sweating the more you did googly eyes at his friend, and Steve was eating that shit up. He heard Steve clear his throat as Eddie stood next to him, his eyes never leaving your face.

“I think I’m leaving now. I’m supposing you’re… staying a bit longer?” His question was directed your way, which you fidgeted in your place, looking at Eddie for one second, and he knew you felt his anger, or his displeasure. He knew you felt it because he saw how you straightened up for a second, to then realize you were looking his way too much, and then you turned towards Jeff.

“Um… If the boss lets me.” You said innocently, this time, your eyes still glued to Jeff, who then looked at Eddie. The metalhead’s hands clenched as his glare was directed to his friend now.

“I was about to have lunch anyways… right?” Jeff asked and Eddie wanted to rip his head off. But you weren’t leaving. No. He had to talk with you privately about this stupid show you just did. So, Eddie faked a grin, nodding at his friend and then turned to you. Your eyes were worried as you looked at him.

“Of course, Peach can stay.” He felt a pat on his shoulder as if saying ‘Good job’. He didn’t turn to face Steve, his eyes still glued on yours, the fake grin still plastered on his lips.

“Well, I gotta go help Jon so… I’ll talk to you guys later, okay?” His best friend bid his goodbye and he knew he winked at you because your eyes followed Steve, and you rolled your eyes at him as he left. The moment the door closed, Eddie’s grin fell, his jaw clenching tightly as your eyes found his, filled with nerves and uncertainty.

“I um…–”

“I knew you two were fucking, jesus fucking christ.” Your eyes widened, and you turned your head to look at Jeff but Eddie’s anger elevated yet it also calmed down slightly, knowing that Jeff knew about you two made you now untouchable, at least to his friend.

“You told him?” Eddie asked and your eyes found him again and now they were angry as your jaw clenched. He tilted his head in question only to then hear laughter from his friend. Eddie sighed as he ran a hand over his face, knowing he was the one who fucked up. 

“I didn’t. You just fucking did.” Your voice was coming through gritted teeth and Eddie glared down at you, and he felt a hand on his right shoulder. He turned to look at it, and seeing Jeff’s hand made him remember how it was on your waist minutes before. He licked into his bottom lip, turning to look at his friend.

“She didn’t, but I had my suspicions when she told me to act as if we were hooking up just now.” Jeff talked, sitting back on the hood of the car as he opened his bag of food. Eddie’s nostrils flared as he heard you sigh, making him look back at you.

“We had to do this sooner or later… or at least I had to. It was going to happen at one point that everyone would be in the same room–”

“So this means, that if we are in the same room with everyone else, you two will act all lovey-dovey like just now?” His words seemed to take you aback because your eyebrows met in the middle as you looked at him as if he had gone insane.

“Well, not lovey-dovey, but we gotta pretend Eddie.” Your words were sharp, while you crossed your arms over your damned chest, making his eyes gaze at it then back at your eyes, and then at his friend who sighed as he unwrapped his sandwich.

“Look, I can help, but– I have a relationship too, and it’s becoming serious and I don’t want it fucked over because of this.” Jeff clarified and that made you sigh, making Eddie look back at you as he felt his belly burn in the pits of hell for some reason.

“I promise it– I don’t know for how long but… it’s just so no one gets suspicious if we are at the same place and they don’t see us interacting at all…” Eddie rolled his eyes as he held back a displeased groan. He did not like those words coming out of your mouth. It sounded as if you were already putting an end to you both, and while his head started reeling, he failed to notice how his friend was looking at him.

“Well… Why not let them know? It’s… just fucking right?” Jeff’s words made Eddie’s head snap towards him, and their eyes locked for a second before you interrupted.

“Yeah but… it might cause issues in the group, just– It’s better this way.” You replied and Eddie’s jaw clenched tightly as he looked at the floor. Jeff shifted in the hood of the car, a smirk appearing on his face as he turned towards you.

“Then, it will be a pleasure to be your fake fuck buddy for as long as you need, sweet thing.” 

“Can you go have lunch somewhere else, Jeff?”

Eddie’s voice was sharp, rough, and filled with something that sent the other two people in the room shivers down their whole bodies, goosebumps pricking on their skin. Your eyes were locked on Eddie, and he knew you sensed something was going on. His fists were clenched as he kept his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes still directed towards the floor.

“I still have work–”

“I will finish it, take the rest of the day off.” 

“But–”

“I’m your boss, do as I fucking say.” 

Silence.

Jeff slowly got off the hood of the car, and Eddie saw how he gave you one last look. Your eyes followed Jeff’s figure as he grabbed his things that were on the desk near the front door. Eddie cracked his neck as he heard the door finally shut, leaving the two of you alone in the shop. Your neck turned quickly, eyes filled with fire as you frowned in complete confusion and worry.

“Why did you treat him like that? He–” He didn’t even let you finish. He turned around and walked towards the stairs, going up towards his office and he knew you were going to follow. He would have smirked when he heard your soft heels against the stairs if it weren’t for the fact he felt himself as if he wanted to rip a wall open with his own fists. He walked towards his mini fridge, taking two beers out as he heard the door of his office close.

“Here.” He put a beer on the desk as he popped the other one open with his bare teeth, taking a gulp out of it. The coldness of it not helping at all with the burning in his stomach, the heat all over his body. 

“I have to head back to work, I can’t fucking drink– What the hell was that down there!?” Your voice was loud, now knowing the two of you were alone. His gaze fell on you, eyes scanning you from head to toe. That fucking office outfit–

“Don’t do that shit in my shop.” Your mouth fell in a big O, in complete disbelief and he knows he sounds crazy. He knows he sounds… weird, but he can’t help it. He really can’t help himself.

“I had to think fast! If I didn’t appear close to Jeff then Steve would grow suspicious! In his head, and Robin’s, and in everyone else’s, Jeff and I have been fucking for the past month and YOU were our wingman.” Oh, he took a long sip of his beer at that, because rationally, it made sense. Rationally, it was a good plan because Steve left content and, probably, with the intention of telling Robin about it, who will tell Nancy, and so on. It was a good plan.

But it doesn’t mean he liked it just because it's good.

“Did you think of Jeff’s relationship at all?” He was using something else to disguise his anger, and it was pitiful, it was pathetic, but what is he supposed to tell you? That he wants to scrub away Jeff’s hand prints off your waist? For what reason? With what motive other than his possessiveness?

“He said it was okay! His girlfriend is not part of your job group or ours, so we are fine!”

“And what about a club, huh? What if Steve decided to start inviting Jeff over for our outings? He thinks you are smitten, like romantically involved with Jeff.” You fell silent at that. He felt his heart beating in his chest, his ears ringing with something he could not fully describe. There was this feeling of hope, or need inside of him that he could not figure out what it was.

“Smitten? I– Why would I appear smitten?” It seemed his words got to you, because you walked towards the desk to grab the beer he left there, and you popped it open by smashing it against the edge of his desk, followed by a big gulp. The room grew tense, he felt it. He saw your body language, the nerves that suddenly invaded you, and he wondered if it was because of the situation, or rather something else.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because instead of doing some flirty googly eyes, you were smiling at him, caressing his cheek like a lovesick idiot, while he held your waist?” His voice was sharp, the edge of it as sharp as an ancient katana. He saw how thrown aback you looked, how confused that made you and he wanted to just erase that frown, wanting to replace it with your mouth in the shape of an ‘o’ as your eyes teared up thanks to him.

“It– It wasn’t that big of a deal! I thought it was a convincing action and the hand on my waist was not premeditated.” At your words, Eddie’s eyes widened a bit, his jaw clenching tightly as he realized it was Jeff’s fucking improvisation. He touched you, and not because you told him to. 

And how many were there like that? How many were like Jeff when he didn’t see you? When he didn’t meet you? How many were touching your waist, your thighs, your arms, your face, when he told you he was too busy? Or when you two simply didn’t contact eachother for that sole reason? Does he have a right to ask? 

But why the fuck does he care?

He has all the right to do the same. He shouldn’t be bothered by this but– He blames who he is. He blames this stupid thing he has to live with because if not, he cannot explain what is happening or why he feels this way. So possessive of you, so protective and like he wants to eat you whole the entire time you two are together, even if it’s just minutes. 

Yet the present was something he was focusing on, and that was, his friend is taking all the merit for what Eddie does to you. He didn’t like that. Not one bit. He knows you told Robin because the girl always joked about inviting Jeff to the get togethers, making you and him have a panicked exchange of looks, only for Robin to always laugh it off, that she would never overstep over your boundaries like that. Not when you weren’t ready.

But ready for what? He never got an answer.

“Yeah, good job tho! Your little act worked.” His voice was dripping with disgust, no sarcasm because it was the truth. Steve had bought into your show, and Eddie should be happy, glad and relieved it did… yet he started thinking that maybe it would not be so bad to tell the group about the two of you. You two are adults. They also fucked with eachother before becoming romantically involved–

Ah, he sees why he cannot tell the group. He sees why the two of you are hidden. The others didn’t hide it because they liked one another, romantically, and the sole purpose was to, in the end, get together. That was not the end with you. That would never be the end with you. 

“And who did you tell Steve you’re fucking, huh?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, taking a sip of your bottle, to then wave it towards his naked torso. He almost forgot he was not wearing a shirt still, looking down at his chest, the marks of your nails still there as well as on his stomach. 

“A friend of a client. A random non-existent person.” He replied with a flare of his nostrils and his eye clashed with yours, a scoff leaving your lips, shaking your head at him.

“Don’t start this shit again. It wasn’t the smartest decision when it came out of my mouth, but it was for this whole month our ticket to leave with one another without raising any suspicions! If it were a random person, why the fuck would you take me to their house all the time?” You took a long sip of your beer and Eddie’s fists clenched as his chest started burning, rumbling, like a fucking earthquake.

“Another client of mine.” He suggested, his eyes moving from your neck to the first buttons of your blouse. You didn’t notice him, still drinking your beer as you chuckled with almost no humor in your voice.

“Right, as if that weren’t suspicious at fucking all. What’s your problem, Munson?” You asked him, and he wondered if telling you would be wise, but tell you what exactly? He took a few steps towards you, seeing how your body stiffened as you stared at him, waiting for a response.

“I don’t have a problem. It’s just… Jeff being the one to take the credit for how fucking dumb you get when I fuck into you it’s almost funny.” Your mouth fell open at his words, huffing at him as you put the beer on top of the mini fridge, crossing your arms over your chest as you faced him.

“Me? Dumb? Should I remind you Munson who whimpered stupidly just because he got his balls sucked on?” You were playing a very dangerous game with him right now. This was not going to end in civil terms. Your perfume was invading him, your smell, just you. You were contaminating his entire space and he was growing a little dizzy thanks to it. His jaw clenched as he took another step your way, his gaze hard as you stood your ground.

“Baby, someone who gets drool and tears running down their face as she gets fucked into a mattress, should not play this game.” He could fucking feel you. He knew how much you wanted him right now, how aroused you were. He saw you shift in your place as you scanned his body, a cocky grin appearing in your face as you looked up at him.

“No one knows that… But you, everyone, will now know what I do to you, without them knowing it was me.” His jaw clenched as he felt the tip of your fingers running over your nail scratches, your bites on his shoulders, your hickies on his collarbone. Steve saw it all, and Eddie confessed to feeling incredible with you. Steve will tell Robin and Jonathan. 

“Yes. They will think that a random chick did this. Not you.” Your smile fell at his words, and he knew he hit your ego, but he was not ready for your response. He was not ready for the turn of events against him.

“And whatever you do to me, they will think Jeff did it. Not you.” 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

He felt his arms shaking. He felt fire just running through his entire system and he didn’t know how to take it, how to tame it, or what it meant. This is not normal, yet he knows it isn’t new. His teeth clenched against eachother, and all he wanted now… all he needed… is to fucking show you that no matter what you say, it was still him. Everything was done by him. Every single thing you felt was thanks to him.

“You know Peach… I always liked this attire of yours.” He mentioned, putting the beer on top of the mini-fridge as he walked towards you, your head tilting to the side as if you were stupid when he knew you weren’t. 

“What does that mean?” And he walked behind you, his left hand grazing your shoulder to then slowly wrap it around your neck, not even pressing into it, and he dipped his head low to whisper in your right ear.

“That I’ve always wanted to lift that skirt up and fuck into you until you forgot about work altogether.” He heard your breath stuttering, a small gasp leaving your lips as you felt him press his body against your back, his voice hoarse into your eardrum. “Think about it, a quick fuck before you leave…”

“Y-You’re crazy if you think I will let you ruin my suit.” You turned your head to look at him as he held you close, his head over your shoulder to look down at you. Your pupils were dilated, probably as much as his were. Your words died in your tongue completely as he saw you made no move to get away from his grasp.

And a smirk was displayed on his lips.

Not even ten minutes later, you two were in the same position, standing next to his desk, but your legs were spread, your panties down to your mid-thighs as your tube skirt was unzipped and pulled up, bunching up over your hips. His hands were grabbing onto your bent elbows for leverage as his knees were slightly bent in order to reach you. In order to be able to rail into you the way he was doing.

His pants and boxers bunched up on his feet, the open foil of a condom right next to them on the floor. Your head was thrown backwards as the sound of skin slapping over and over filled his entire office. He looked down to see his cock going in and out of your wet cunt, all the way, and almost all the way out. Repeating that motion in quick movements, deliberated. 

You were on your tippy toes, with your heels still on, in order to lift your ass to him as much as you could, arching your back so he had more access. He looked at how you jiggled against his movements, your moans coming out of your mouth with no restraint, knowing the two of you were completely alone now… or at least he hoped Steve didn’t decide to come back for something.

But for some reason, he would love that. He would love it for Steve to know it was never Jeff. For Steve to know just how good you two make eachother feel. For Steve to know that it’s you the one who marked him up. For Steve to know, and to tell everyone, that your disheveled hair, and the marks on your body, the ones he will surely leave now, were made by him.

He kept pounding into you, his grip on your arms tightening, his knuckles turning white as he groaned when he felt you fluttering all around him, just like you always did. Everytime he hit your g-spot, you fluttered. That’s how he knew he found it. And well, there’s also your moans–

“Eddie– Eddie– fuck!” He smirked in victory as he angled himself and pulled you into him, keeping himself seated against you after each hard thrust. Deep and brutal, knocking the breath out of your lungs, choking on your voice. He growled each time he felt his tip just hitting you in your deepest parts. The warmth all around him. The sound of your whimpers and cries in his ears. 

“Yeah, keep screaming my name, Peach.” He began to roughly fuck into you again, using you like a fucktoy, but that’s just because– His eyes diverted towards your waist, the image of Jeff’s hands on there, making him groan in anger, not wanting to think about that now. He is fucking into you, not touching you lightly just like Jeff did. He wins in this equation, doesn’t he?

He could hear the squelching of your juices with his thrusts, and he could feel the wetness all over his pelvis, his pubic hair, proof of how you were feeling with him, how you always felt with him and him only. 

But his eyes fucking went to your waist again.

He growled as he pulled out of you, making your knees tremble, your feet hitting the ground again and he noticed how weak your legs were. You whined in question, wondering why he stopped filling you the way he was. He made you turn around and take two steps back, slowly moving his feet with his pants and boxers still tangled around his ankles, trying not to trip on these two steps in order to follow you. 

He gripped your waist, his fingers burning, hoping that they somehow would brand their digits there and create a barrier so that no one– Fuck, no. No. He lifted you up on the desk, taking your panties off completely, and he threw them over his shoulder as he spread your legs so he could nestle between them.

You were breathing heavily, your blouse open, chest out with your bralette showing. Your blazer was still on, still buttoned, and it was just fucking delectable. You were holding yourself up with your hands behind you and on the desk. His face immediately leaned forward, capturing your lips in a strong kiss. He hadn’t kissed you since you entered his shop.

It was something he couldn’t really go without in the night or in every encounter you two had. He had stolen kisses from you in Steve and Robin’s kitchen. You had trapped him in Nancy’s apartment and kissed him senselessly. He had pulled you out of view in the club and under some stairs in order to rub himself against you, kiss you stupid, before letting you return to everyone and keep dancing.

You couldn’t not kiss eachother every time you saw one another. 

You moaned into the kiss, his hands going to hold your neck, both of them wrapping around it, his fingers overlapping onto one another in the back of your head, his thumbs hooked underneath your jaw. His tongue instantly invaded your mouth, a place that was its second home by now. If not in his mouth, it was in yours, dancing with your tongue, making a mess out of eachother. 

He went blind with it, thrusting his hips forward and luck was on his side when in two movements where the tip of his cock kissed your clit twice, the third time it caught on your slicked entrance. He huffed a laugh into the kiss with satisfaction as his hips pressed on, his dick disappearing once more inside of you. You stopped kissing him, yet you didn’t separate from him as you moaned into the kiss. 

He moaned your name into your mouth followed by a curse as he felt you engulf him once more. It will always be a new sensation, never fully sitting with him how he is going to go on without it once you decide to put an end to it, or in the crazy event, for him to be the one to do it. 

He pulled away from the kiss, his hand moving to press onto your chest, pushing you just slightly for you to get the hint. You let yourself fall backwards, glad that there was nothing on the desk that could be in the way, and if there were a few papers of clients underneath you, so what? He has the copies in a computer.

He grabbed the back of your right knee, giving a kiss on your calf as he pulled your leg on his shoulder. He repeated the process with your other leg and his hands grabbed onto your waist, his fingertips digging into your skin as if he were holding onto you afraid you would slip away from him. But it was because he wanted to mark you there. Particularly there.

He immediately started railing into you once again, the coil in his belly turning as he saw your mouth falling open, those eyes filling with tears of pleasure as his name tumbles out of your lips like a prayer. You bounced against his thrusts, the sight of your disheveled office attire making his mind short circuit as he felt himself burn. The outfit he wanted to ruin from the very first moment he realized he wanted to rip it off from you. He hoped you couldn’t put it back as perfect as it was before. He wished for people in your office to notice you were just fucked by someone. He wished people knew you were fucked stupid by him, only him.

“Look at you… yeah, I’m the only one that can make you feel like this Peach.” He said it with confidence because he knew he was. He has to be. If he weren’t you would have gotten tired of him by now, right? But he wanted you to say it, no, he needed you to say it. He needed you to admit he is the only one.  “Say it.” 

“Mhmm–” You couldn’t even pronounce a word from what he could see, but he was going to make you talk. He growled as he started to pull you to him each time he thrusted back into you, making his movements go deeper, and making them punch the air and soul out of you. His cock twitched inside of you at each tiny gasp you let out thanks to what he was doing to you.

“Come on, use words. I know you are a little cock drunk right now, but I’m sure you can manage this– Fuck–” He cursed when he felt your pussy fluttering and clenching around him, and that never gets old for him. All tight around the base, making him see stars. You were close, he was close, but he needed this. “Peach, I’m not letting you cum until–”

“You! Just you Eds– Fuck, just you–” You were breathing heavy, moans escaping you in between, and he groaned in pleasure at your words, relief washing over him and he didn’t know why. He just felt a little lighter than before. He decided to believe your words because who knows if you’re lying or not, but for some reason he knows you aren’t. He knows you are telling the truth. He is the only one who can make you feel like this, and hopefully, that makes him the only one you’re fucking for now.

“You make me feel good too Peach, perfect every time.” You moaned loudly at that, and he assumed it was because you liked what he said, he could feel your delight at his words. He felt his lower abdomen tighten, signaling how close he was getting, making him hiss. His right hand left your waist in order to wrap his arm around your thigh, his hand reaching your clit, fingers pressing onto it and immediately rubbing in circles to help you achieve your orgasm.

Your back arched from the desk as your hands grabbed onto the edges of it, your moans becoming whimpers and cries as he kept pistoning inside of you while rubbing onto your clit, feeling your walls tremble and flutter around him.��

“God– Baby– I’m–” The pet name slipped out of your mouth and it always drove Eddie to the edge. You never used them outside of sex, so this made them special. Eddie was panting through his moans as he kept his pace even if he felt his hips wanting to stutter, his climax right around the corner.

“I know sweetheart, I know, I can feel it. Come on–” And he growled, groaned, and moaned your name loudly when you clenched around him like a vice, tightly. His cock was engulfed completely by you, being sucked in as your back arched, your moans loud cries of his name as he kept circling your clit with his fingers, unable to move from how hard you were clenching around him.

He looked at how twisted in pleasure your face was, your body trembling and twitching as you rode your orgasm out. The sight before him was insanely perfect, hot, just a mix of everything that is good. You looked so beautiful when you were in complete pleasure, you looked… ethereal—made for him. Each fucking time.

“Eddie–!” And his name in your mouth in the middle of your orgasm was enough to make the elastic band snap for him, his abdomen finally feeling like it explodes as his body tightens, tenses up, and he finishes inside the condom, filling it to the brim as he always does. Spurt after spurt. He moaned loudly, his hips stilling deeply inside of you, twitching at every shot of his cum.

He felt his body drenched in sweat, and he was left breathless, panting, putting your legs down and slamming his hands on the desk, caging you in between him and the hardwood. Your eyes were closed as you tried to catch your breath, your chest moving up and down, his eyes going over your bare collarbones, your dark lace bralette still in full view for him. He looked at the skin on your neck, now seeing the mark of his hands, then a bite he gave you on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He marked you like you marked him.

“So much for not messing this little suit of yours, huh.” He said and that’s when your eyes opened, your head snapping to look at the clock that hung at the top of the door, quickly sitting up, making him pull away and out of you, the both of you groaning at the sensation of it. He quickly pulled his pants and boxers up, his eyes never leaving your form as you quickly buttoned your blouse back to place.

“Fuck, I have a meeting in ten fucking minutes!” You yelled and he could only chuckle, and he saw a smudge of your lipstick on the side of your face. He wanted to dart his thumb out, needing to wipe it off from you so you could be presentable, but that gesture was too intimate, wasn’t it?

“You didn’t mention that to me, can’t blame me for it.” He licked his lips cockily as you glared at him, jumping down from the desk, pulling your skirt down and zipping it on the back again. Your eyes looked around, frowning your eyebrows which made him tilt his head in question.

“Where’s my underwear?”

“Oh, I have no clue. I threw it over my shoulder–”

“This is the third one! I am losing the underwear that goes with my bras! I have to wear mismatched colors!” Eddie rolled his eyes at that, but he couldn’t help it, you looked kind of adorable when you cared for stuff like this.

“I am the only one that sees them anyways, so why does it matter?” At his words, your head turned to look at him.

“Who says you’re the only one? Don’t act cocky.” And he flared his nostrils, looking at you, studying you, doing the one thing he never cared of doing before meeting you because he believed he was invading people’s privacy with it. 

“I know you’re lying now.” You turned your head to face him again, a puzzled look on your face, and also, surprised. Before you could talk, he opened his mouth again. “You will have to go commando for now, Peach. I’ll try to find your underwear.” 

“Yeah, sure, you’re probably going to keep it and sniff it like a pervert.” At your words, his eyes widened in surprise, and he started sniffing as if he were a dog. Loud and invading your space, making you snort out a giggle as you tried to swat him away like a fly. “I said like a pervert, not a cute angelic being!”

“Dogs are angelic beings? I once saw a man getting his dick bitten off by a rottweiler–” You winced at that and this is what it was being with you. He was a horny teenager ten seconds ago, and now you two are laughing as if… nothing happened. It was the perfect scenario. 

“Goodbye Munson, find my underwear! All of them! And no more hickies! I need to wear blouses and, unlike you, I meet with important business people almost everyday.” You said, fixing your skirt again, and then your hair. You’re probably going to notice the smudge of lipstick in the car.

“I meet important people too! You think that everyone owns a Ferrari sweetheart?” You stared at him for a few seconds and then you nodded, frowning your lips downwards with a nod.

“Good point.” You walked towards the door, opening it, ready to head out and this was one of the parts Eddie did not particularly like.

“Talk to you later, fuck buddy.” You flipped him off over your shoulder, closing the door behind you and he was left in the silence of his room, a huge contrast to what was happening ten minutes ago. 

It was a perfect scenario for sure… but that didn’t mean he liked it.

He didn’t know why, or what, but he didn’t want to be like he is with his other hookups, or rather was. You are a friend, and you two share something special unlike some random situationship. You two greet eachother normally, never with a kiss, and then when you bid your goodbyes… this was it.

A funny exchange of words, and then it’s him or you leaving out the door. He stayed over and you stayed over, yet, never once you two had morning sex. Rarely had breakfast together. He understood it, and he accepted it because, you two are nothing more than just friends who fuck… constantly fuck, and will never be, and he knew it and he accepted it. 

You also got out of a relationship, and most likely did not want another one at all, much less with someone like him. He decided to keep it this way. The waves from afar when saying goodbye, and no intimate gestures right after waking up. He took a deep breath in as he looked to his side, spotting your underwear underneath the metal archive drawers. He walked over and picked it up, looking down at it on his palm.

His gut turned with uncertainty as he looked at his door. He knew why he was angry before now that his mind is a little clearer. Right after having you. Right after you admitted what he needed to hear at that moment. He doesn’t want to say it or think on it, and maybe he shouldn’t. He wasn’t angry because of the whole plan. Sure he was being possessive but that’s just because of his nature and who he is, but it was more than that.

It was way more than what he dared to admit.

Because sure, Jeff had his hands on your waist…

But you never caressed his cheek the way you did to his friend.

end of chapter 20

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[jianwon]

i ADORE your most recent fanfic (touch ups and downs) your writing is rlly cool and i was wondering if maybe we could get a part 2!?! where they go on a date and se-mi is still being flirty/teasing as per usual and maaaaybee...they kiss. hehe. i love your writing btw, but pls dont feel pressured to fulfill my request!!! 💗💗

a softer spotlight

sypnosis. a makeup artist’s quiet life takes an unexpected turn when actress se-mi slips them her number. between secret outings, stolen moments, and the challenges of se-mi’s fame, their connection grows into something neither of them can ignore.

part 2 of touch ups and down

content— actress!se-mi x fem!makeupartist!reader. pure fluff. flirting and romantic tension. brief mention of public harassment. mild language. slight emotional vulnerability. mentions of squid game characters.

disclaimer. story is entirely fictional and in no way reflects real events, individuals, or their relationships. characters mentioned are fictional representations based on their on-screen personas.

wordcount. 1.9k

since the day se-mi slipped her number into your hand, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. it wasn’t just the way she effortlessly flirted, or the way her perfume lingered like a gentle reminder of her presence, it was the way she made you feel seen.

you hadn’t reached out yet, overthinking every possible way the conversation might go. would she even remember giving you her number? what if she was just being polite? or teasing?

you debated for days, pacing your tiny apartment as her folded note sat on your kitchen counter, taunting you.

then, one evening, your phone buzzed with an unknown number.

unknown number: you weren’t planning on calling me, were you... artist-nim?

you stared at the message, your heart racing. how did she..? oh. of course, she had your number from the crew information list.

you: i didn’t want to bother you.

se-mi: bother? i think you misunderstand. i was hoping you’d ask me out (īī ^ īī)

the boldness of her words hit you like a lightning bolt, and before you could spiral into overthinking, another message popped up.

se-mi: how about we fix that? are you free tomorrow afternoon?

you froze. tomorrow afternoon? what would you wear? what would you say?

you: i guess i could be free.

se-mi: great! but we’ll need to be careful, meet me at cafe haneul at 3. wear something comfortable and discreet ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

you didn’t sleep much that night.

the next day, you arrived at cafe haneul early, nervously fiddling with your phone. the cozy little café was tucked into a quieter street in seoul, its warm glow spilling onto the cobblestone sidewalk. you wore an oversized hoodie and a baseball cap, hoping it was “discreet” enough.

when se-mi arrived, you almost didn’t recognize her. she was wearing a hoodie too, paired with round glasses and a black face mask that covered half her face. even so, she still looked effortlessly stunning, her presence impossible to ignore.

“artist-nim!” she greeted, pulling down her mask slightly to reveal a playful grin. “se-mi,” you replied, trying not to sound as nervous as you felt.

she tilted her head, studying you. “cute. you really took the ‘discreet’ note to heart.”

you laughed awkwardly, and she grabbed your wrist gently. “come on. let’s walk.”

the streets were bustling, even in the quieter part of the city. se-mi kept close, her hand brushing yours every so often as you weaved through the crowd. the conversation flowed easily. she talked about the projects she was excited about, and you shared funny backstage stories from your work.

but as the sidewalk grew more crowded, you started to feel the press of bodies around you. someone accidentally bumped into your shoulder, and then another person pushed past, making you stumble slightly.

se-mi noticed immediately. without a word, she reached out and grabbed your hand, pulling you closer to her side. “stay here,” she said softly, her tone protective.

her hand was warm, her grip firm but gentle. you felt your cheeks heat up, but you didn’t pull away. instead, you let her guide you through the crowd, her presence grounding you amidst the chaos.

when the street finally opened up, she looked down at you, a small smile playing on her lips. “you okay?”

“yeah..” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“good.” she replied, her thumb brushing over your knuckles.

the moment felt so natural that you almost didn’t realize she hadn’t let go until she grinned and said, “don’t tell me you’re blushing already.”

“i’m not!” you protested, though the heat in your cheeks said otherwise. she chuckled, tugging you along. “come on. there’s somewhere i want to take you.”

the museum was quiet, its grand halls filled with soft lighting and the faint echo of footsteps. you hadn’t expected se-mi to bring you somewhere so peaceful, but as soon as you stepped inside, you understood why.

“i like coming here when i need to clear my head,” she explained as you wandered through an exhibit of impressionist paintings. “there’s just something calming about it.”

you watched as her gaze lingered on a large canvas depicting a serene landscape. the way her face softened, her usual confident demeanor giving way to something more vulnerable, made your chest ache in the best way.

“do you paint?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

she shook her head. “no, but i wish i did. i’ve always admired how artists can put so much emotion into a single canvas”

you smiled, gesturing to the painting in front of you. “kind of like how you do with acting.”

her eyes widened slightly, and she turned to you with a surprised smile. “that’s… probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“well, it’s true,” you replied, suddenly feeling shy under her gaze. she stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

before you could respond, she tugged you toward another room, this one filled with smaller, more abstract pieces. you wandered through the space together, occasionally stopping to admire a painting or share quiet observations. at one point, you caught her watching you instead of the art, her expression unreadable.

“what?” you asked, self-conscious under her stare.

“nothing.” she said, smiling softly. “i just like seeing you like this. you’re so… relaxed.”

you didn’t know how to respond, so you simply smiled back, your heart pounding.

after leaving the museum, you and se-mi wandered into a bustling food street. the two of you shared tteokbokki and small plates of jeon at a cozy food stall, the spicy warmth of the dishes cutting through the evening chill. se-mi kept her hoodie pulled low and her mask in place, glancing around every now and then to make sure no one was paying too much attention.

you couldn’t help but laugh as she struggled with her chopsticks, one slippery rice cake flying out of her grasp and landing on her plate with a small splatter. “a world-famous actress, but chopsticks are your weakness?”

she gave you a mock glare, her eyes narrowing playfully. “you try eating with these things out in the cold and tell me how it goes.”

smirking, you picked up one of the rice cakes with ease, holding it out toward her. “here. let me save you the embarrassment.”

she hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward, taking the bite and chewing with exaggerated slowness. “not bad...” she said once she swallowed. “guess i’ll keep you around.”

it was an easy moment, the two of you lost in your own world, until someone walking past slowed to a stop right in front of your table.

“wait… is that—?”

your heart dropped as you saw the man’s eyes narrow in recognition. he looked to be in his early twenties, dressed casually but holding his phone in a way that made your stomach tighten.

se-mi tensed beside you, her hand instinctively reaching for her mask to pull it higher.

“no way,” the man said, stepping closer. “you’re se-mi, aren’t you? from that movie?”

“i think you’ve got the wrong person,” you said quickly, standing up to block his view of her. “she’s not an actress.” the man’s eyes darted between you and se-mi, skepticism written all over his face.

“no, i’m pretty sure that’s her. i’ve watched the show, like, three times. that’s definitely her!”

se-mi looked down, trying to keep her face hidden as she mumbled, “i’m sorry, i think you’re mistaken.” her voice was calm, but you could sense the tension in her posture.

“come on, you don’t have to pretend,” the man insisted, pulling out his phone. “just one picture, please! my friends will never believe i ran into you.”

“no pictures,” you said firmly, your voice shaking slightly. “please respect her privacy.” the man frowned, his phone still in hand. “if it’s not her, then what’s the big deal? why are you acting so weird?”

the crowd around the stall was starting to take notice, a few people pausing mid-bite to glance over. your pulse quickened as you realized how easily this could spiral out of control.

“let’s go,” you whispered to se-mi, gently tugging her sleeve.

she nodded and stood, keeping her head down as the two of you tried to leave the stall. but the man wasn’t giving up so easily.

“hey, wait!” he called, stepping after you. “at least tell me if it’s really you—”

that’s when se-mi turned around, her voice steady but firm. “i’m sorry, but i’d really appreciate it if you left us alone.”

her tone was polite, but there was a quiet strength behind it that seemed to catch the man off guard. he hesitated, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for a response. finally, he muttered something under his breath and walked off, still holding his phone but no longer pointing it at you.

as soon as he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “that was… intense.”

“i’m sorry...” se-mi said softly, her voice laced with guilt.

“don’t apologize,” you said immediately. “it’s not your fault. are you okay?” she nodded, though her hands were trembling slightly. without thinking, you reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently.

“let’s get out of here,” you said, your voice soft but reassuring.

the two of you walked quickly through the streets, sticking to quieter alleys until you were far away from the bustling crowd. when you finally stopped, you were standing in a small, empty park, the glow of streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement.

“i didn’t mean to ruin the night.” se-mi said after a moment, her gaze fixed on the ground.

“ruin it?” you repeated, stepping closer to her. “se-mi, you didn’t ruin anything.” she looked up at you, her eyes searching yours. “it’s just… stuff like that happens all the time. and i hate dragging other people into it.”

“you didn’t drag me into anything,” you said firmly. “i wanted to be here. with you.”

her expression softened, and for a moment, the tension in her shoulders seemed to melt away. “you really mean that?”

“of course,” you said, giving her hand another gentle squeeze. “besides, i think we make a pretty good team. i distract the fans, and you handle the dramatic exits.” she laughed at that, the sound light and melodic in the quiet night. “i guess i owe you one, artist-nim.”

“i’ll add it to your tab,” you teased, grinning.

for a moment, neither of you said anything. the air between you felt heavy with unspoken words, and when she finally broke the silence, her voice was quiet but steady.

“being recognized is part of the job,” she said. “but… it’s nice to have someone who doesn’t see me as just ‘se-mi the actress.’”

you looked at her, your heart aching at the vulnerability in her words. “you’re more than that,” you said softly. “at least to me.”

she turned to you, her eyes searching yours. then, without warning, she reached up and pulled her mask down, her face inches from yours. “i know.” she whispered.

before you could respond, she leaned in and kissed you. it was soft, tentative, but it sent a spark through your entire body. when she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, and she looked almost shy. “i hope that wasn’t too forward...” she murmured.

you shook your head, a dazed smile spreading across your face. “not at all.”

she grinned, her confidence returning as she took your hand again. “good. because i plan on doing that again.”

and as the city buzzed around you, the world felt like it had shrunk to just the two of you. a quiet, perfect moment in the chaos of life.

a/n— a big thank you to anon for the request! please do let me know if you'd like actress se-mi x makeup artist reader to be a series! do request some scenarios that you'd like to see both of them in hehe + is it just me, or do i hc se-mi as an emoticon user rather than using emojis hmm

[minkieater]

EIGHT FIRST DATES ꨄ︎

005 》 HAN JISUNG

you needed a night out, you needed to have fun— at least that’s what yunho told you. when chan invites your group to a music festival where his curly headed roommate would also be, will it be what you need to get you back on track? or will you start from square one, again?

wc 15.5k my bad y’all its getting serious now | drinking, smoking, kissing, suggestive, music festival vibes, sadness, tiny gets fucked up. vomit but not descriptive. hanjis sexy

“have you guys ever thought about your wedding?” 

of course you thought about getting married, your wedding, every little girl does— walking down the aisle next to her father, meeting the love of her life at the altar… all of it seemed so futile after your father passed, you haven’t thought about it as a true reality since then, more of a pipedream.

you didn’t know if you were simply driving yourself insane or if you really were obsessed with mingyu, but every single waking thought you’ve had since saturday was about getting married, knowing you were nowhere near that stage of your life but for some reason… questioning it. maybe even excited for it. 

everything with mingyu has felt meant to be so far… maybe it was.

the entire table looked at you in silence– eight pupils staring into your soul, wondering where the fuck that came from. yunho was quick to shut you down. 

“i don’t even want to ask, tiny.”

“i’m serious! have you even considered what you’d want in a partner? what your wedding would look like?” you were in dreamland, sparkles in your eyes and everything as you stared up at the high ceilings of your kitchen. yeosang and san had brought over dinner, which led to the five of you seated on barstools around your kitchen island in silence, up until now. 

“sexy and rich,” yeosang didn’t even look up, mouth full as he digged deeper into his meal. 

san nodded in agreement– “my wedding will be big enough to make everyone attending jealous, small enough to make others wish they were invited.”

“you’re both shallow,” you grumble, picking at your plate, moving your food around. you glance at your twin, “ace, what about you? do you think reia’s the one?” 

ace lets out a nervous chuckle, one that sounds exactly like yours, “i– uh, maybe. possible.”

you pop a brow, sitting back in your stool, straightening your back. you weren’t the only one that picked up on it, the entire table noticed his shift in energy, the change in tone. yunho asks, “what’s going on?”

ace groans in defeat when there was never an argument to begin with, elbows hitting the granite, palms digging into his eyes. “i think reia’s going to break up with me.” 

“why?” your voice is loud, surprised. you take it down a notch, “what happened?” 

he leans back, moving his hands away from his face and you notice that he looks tired. bags under his eyes, his skin looked dull, his freckles weren’t freckling like they usually did. you blamed it on school and the stress he’d been under– you didn’t think reia had anything to do with it. last time you checked, how ace felt about reia is how you felt about mingyu. 

“she’s been saying shit like how i’m not giving her enough attention, not seeing her enough, all i care about is school and when i’m not doing homework i’m with you guys,” he huffs, his voice sounding weak now that he’s finally admitting it. 

“why doesn’t she come hangout with us?” yeosang asked, but you were sure that’s what you were all thinking. “she’s usually here all the time, and your workload for school hasn’t changed.”

“i guess she’s been feeling this way for awhile,” ace stretched his arms over his head, lifting his eyebrows, expression saying he’s had this conversation already– with her. “we don’t have enough one on one time.”

yunho leans over the counter, palm holding up his baseball cap covered head, “get an airbnb for a weekend, take her somewhere nice, just the two of you. she’s probably feeling underappreciated and overwhelmed with her own schoolwork.” 

“that’s actually a good idea,” ace marvels, a semblance of light returning to his eyes, “you’re so good with girls, bro. incredible how you’re still single.” 

yunho smiles, “incredible how i manage to fight ‘em off me.” 

yeosang rolls his eyes, “can we circle back to why teens is asking about marriage?” 

“no,” the three boys say in unison, all eyes landing on yeosang.

“okay, fine, riddle me this,” yeosang sits a little straighter, index finger pointing to the air in front of him, “tiny, whose never gone on a date before a month ago, shows up to dinner with her prehistoric boyfriend and starts talking about marriage. no one wants to ask any questions?” 

you gasp, “yeosang! he is not—”

“that’s actually a good point,” san shrugs, “we haven’t talked about him yet.”

“how old is he anyways?” yunho asks, both elbows on the table now, long fingers folded over one another on the top of his palms. 

your cheeks flush, near mumbling as you redirect your attention back to the food in front of you, hoping no one notices the warmth on your skin. you were waiting for this question, scared of this question. “thirty.” 

“tiny.” ace’s tone is firm, disappointed even if he only said your name— the underlying message is clear to you. you break your staring contest with your plate to look up to him, there are a million words on his tongue, but he says none of them. 

your face burned in embarrassment, you were scrambling for something to say, small tuts leaving your lips instead. you didn’t know how to defend it, defend him— you were still debating it yourself. they didn’t know this was currently a sensitive topic, that you’d been non stop questioning your relationship with mingyu for almost forty eight hours, worried that it won’t work out because of that very reason. 

san giggles, “we knew you had daddy issues, teens, would’ve never expected you to fuck someone old enough to be one. props to you, actually.” 

your world went silent, the insult flipping a switch within you. your train of thought skipped right past anger to hurt, tears quickly filling your eyes. you fled from the kitchen— two palms flat on the granite countertop pushed you off of your stool, legs racing through your hallway. you only heard yunho scold san with a stern drag of his name as your legs took you to up your bedroom, locking the door behind you. 

that wasn’t the conversation you intended to open by asking that question. you were once again putting your foot in your mouth, regretting sharing your thoughts, it was as if san had that statement locked and loaded–– ready to hit its target. your boys had always said whatever they thought, feelings be damned, you forgot how much it hurt to be on the receiving end. 

it felt like you were younger when they’d tease you relentlessly, only stopping when ace made them. you haven’t felt that way in a long time, their teasing now was lighthearted, and you did it right back— it’s been years since you’ve been in tears in your bedroom over something one of the boys said. 

as you laid on your back, sprawled across your mattress, you began to think, and what san said started to make more and more sense as you thought about it. daddy issues— your tears dried without you noticing. mingyu’s age, his career, his stability, the pet names, how he took care of you already, his dominating nature that ‘only came out with you… you ate up every moment— you loved it, even. 

but it was all because of one thing, and as much as you hated it, san hit it right on the money. 

“teens?” he spoke before he knocked, three rhythmic taps of his knuckles against your door. 

“go away, yunho,” you frown, turning on your side with your back facing the door even if he couldn’t see you. 

“let me in,” he urged, you could see his scowl through the wooden slab that separated you. “i’m sorry for what san said– san is sorry for what he said. please let me talk to you.”

you sighed, you knew he wouldn’t go away, he’d sit there until you opened up whether that be in one hour or six. you got up, unlocking your door, but you didn’t open it. you let him open it himself as he followed you inside your room, you plopped onto your bed lifelessly, your body a dead weight. he followed you, sitting at the foot of your bed, resting a hand on your ankles that laid one over the other. 

“he shouldn’t of said that,” yunho started, “it was fucked up. he crossed a line.” 

“he’s right,” your throat constricted, words fighting their way through. your words become quieter, a strain on your vocal chords, “i thought mingyu was perfect.”

“what did i tell you?” yunho leaned across your legs so he could see your face that was laid on the pillow. you looked down at him as he said, “you deserve someone who’s gonna appreciate you, cherish you, you’re special and important.” 

you blinked, tears returning to you, filling up your waterline. “he does all of those things, he makes me feel that way, and now i’m supposed to be normal when i know the only reason i feel this way about him is because my dad is dead? because matt fucking sucks?”

yunho purses his lips, his body stiffening on top of your legs. “tiny, there’s eight years between you. he’s fooling around with you, it’s not right.”

“i know our age difference already!” your voice raises, “he’s done everything right, yunho. you don’t know him, you didn’t even try to get to know him when he was here, instead you sulked in your bad mood like a child. what was that even about?” 

“don’t get pissed at me because of something san said,” he sits up, his weight lifted from your legs, his eyes looking everywhere but at you as he continues. “i was just in a bad mood saturday, it wasn’t about anything.” 

“you’re lying, jeong yunho. you forget that i know you,” you sit up, too, facing him feet apart on your mattress. he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, he wasn’t expecting you to call him out.

“you’re missing the point,” he sighs, looking down at your mattress, reining in the topic at hand. “i don’t know him, but i don’t need to. eight years of life is longer than you think, he knows a lot more than you, you just started going on dates. you don’t know anything, tiny.” 

“i know enough,” you shake your head, “i know that i like him a lot and that’s enough for me.” 

“so what, you want to be married within the next two years?” he looked back up to you, his face was unreadable, but his voice was firm, truthful. he meant every word he said. “miss out on being in your twenties? miss out on dating? learning about people, experiencing life, trying out different things. learning how to be independent, how to support yourself, miss out on all of that because you have a rich husband? that’s your goal?” 

you blink, “is that why you’re single? experiencing life, dating around, fucking who you please because you can? sounds boring to me.” your words are curt, intended to sting. “i’d much rather learn and experience with someone, grow together as a unit.”

“be realistic, think like you’re twenty two, not like you’re still seventeen,” he bites, sending the sting right back to you. after a moment’s pause, he speaks, his voice soft. “i’m single because i’m waiting.”

“for what?” you ask, eyebrows knitted together, tears still dancing down your cheeks. “how do you know? …what you’re waiting for?” 

“it’s not for what, tiny— it’s for who.”

──────  ꨄ︎

“i have an idea,” chan was smiling ear to ear, you wondered if the two of you would ever pay attention to your lecture again, two weeks in a row spent talking the entire class. “me and my roommates are going to a music festival this weekend, you should come.”

your lips form a line, “chan, if this is about–”

“hear me out!” he interjects, a finger coming up between you, silencing you. you sit back in your chair, crossing your arms as he continues. “i know you’re seeing someone, but this will get jisung off my back and you can get a feel for him without making it an actual thing.”

seeing someone feels sour, you ignore it— “okay, let me hear your plan.”

“it’s a music festival, so it’s not like it’s some private, real date like going to dinner or something. you can bring your friends, i’ll be with mine, we can meet up and it can be a group thing so you have people to hangout with if you aren’t into hanji,” he raises his eyebrows with a smile as he awaited your response, “not bad, right?”

you think about it for a second– it’s not a terrible idea, and you did owe chan for your own date with him. you nod, “when is it?”

“saturday, i’ll text you the link for tickets. me and my three roommates are going, jisung jihoon and jeongin, everybody’s single,” he winks, “they’re all music people.”

“and all of their names start with J,” your eyebrows furrow, “how did you manage that?”

he shrugs, “me and jisung were roommates, jeongin and jihoon were roommates, we got an apartment together sophomore year and it just happened to be that way. i’m the only non-music major and the only one whose name doesn’t start with a J,” he brings his attention to his laptop, pulling up the website for the music festival. 

“it’s all weekend long, you probably don’t want to go all weekend so just come for one day,” he says, pulling up the lineup on the screen. you scan the list and you know several artists, it seems fun, and the idea was well thought out. it wasn’t necessarily a date, but instead a place you would just happen to be at together– you would barely have to talk to jisung if you didn’t want to. 

you didn’t have to tell mingyu, either— not that he’d have an issue if you did. being wednesday now, you haven’t seen him since sunday morning, and since monday night… there was no way he couldn’t tell something was off. where you were usually bubbly on the phone with him, over text, you’d turn monotonous without even realizing. the whole relationship began to feel stale after what san said, after your talk with yunho. you weren’t sure if any of your feelings were legitimate anymore.

chan texts you the link and you immediately send it to your groupchat, telling the boys to clear their schedules and to buy their tickets (you tell san to get one for you, too. he owes you). you were met with no pushback, all of the boys agreeing except ace— he was taking reia away for the weekend, using yunho’s idea. 

“i’m so excited,” chan beams, scrolling through the website, “it’s really cool, we’ve gone every year since we started here. tell your friends that my roommates are single.”

“i’ve never been to a music festival before, just random concerts here and there. you’ll have to show us etiquette,” you snicker when you realize exactly what he’s implying with his roommates— you didn’t think any of your three boys had gotten any in awhile. “i will definitely let them know.” 

as you walked out of class and into the brisk, october air, a certain car stuck out like a sore thumb in the parking lot. sitting idly and illegally was a BMW pulled up beside the curb, closest to the building of your class— completely blacked out, tinted windows with a gold seventeen decal on the back window on the driver’s side… that car belonged to one person and one person only.

he stepped out of his car as soon as you walked out of the building, dressed in all black business casual attire, sunglasses on his face. you bid chan goodbye without as much as a glance, feet drifting toward mingyu so fluidly and without thought you could’ve been floating all over again. maybe he did cast a spell on you.

mingyu stepped around the vehicle to open his passenger side door, greeting you with a smile, “hey, princess.” he kissed you on the head before you slid into the seat, the smell of his cologne and fresh leather hitting your nose as he shut the door behind you. 

“what are you doing here?” you asked as he got into the driver’s seat, putting the car into reverse. you began feeling awkward, confused, your talk with yunho came to mind again– mingyu’s presence made it too easy to forget all of your worries. 

“don’t sound too excited, i’m taking you to lunch,” he shot you a tight lipped smile as he put his car into gear, pulling out of the parking lot. 

“mingyu,” you breathed with a small shake of your head. you hadn’t even gotten all of your thoughts in order, you wanted to wait before you talked to him, you knew it was coming eventually— he did, too. 

“don’t say anything,” he kept his gaze on the road in front of him, the sun shining through his windshield, kissing his soft, golden skin. he let his hand fall to your thigh. “just… let me do this.” 

“okay,” you said, flushing as the weight of his palm hit your skin. electricity shot through you every time you were with him, every time he touched you— it had to mean something. 

or did you just want it to? 

he pulled into the parking lot of a diner, a small one near your campus. you loved diners, you used to go with your family growing up once a week— every sunday morning, stopping shortly after you turned twelve. your blood thrummed in excitement under your skin. 

you sat in a booth, a quietness consuming the two of you, you thought maybe he didn’t know what to say— you definitely didn’t. mingyu broke the silence first. 

“you want to tell me what’s going on?” 

“there’s nothing to tell, nothing going on, i mean,” you barely looked up from your menu when you knew what you wanted to order in the parking lot. how do you tell someone that the only reason you’re interested in them is because you’re wired to? 

he sighed, laying his menu down on the table. the waitress comes and takes your orders, leaving you to silence once again. 

“the only way this is going to work is if you’re honest,” his voice is more serious than it usually is. you have nothing to hold in your hands anymore— it feels like you’re back at that expensive restaurant when mingyu first brought you on an impromptu lunch date. you feel exposed.

you run a hand through your hair, “i don’t know, mingyu.” you pause, then internally said fuck it. “you said you won’t rush anything with me, but what if i’m just holding you back?” 

“how would you be holding me back?” his eyes were full of concern as he leaned forward, arms folding across the table. 

“you’re thirty, ready to get married, start a family,” you shake your head, “i’m not even close to being there yet.” 

“i met you two weeks ago,” a chuckle leaves his lips, trying to relieve the tension brought by your statement, “why is that on your mind?” 

“you shouldn’t be wasting your time, mingyu. you’re fooling around with a twenty two year old,” your own words weren’t leaving your lips— they were yunho’s. 

“fooling around?” his eyes were raised as if you insulted him. “if i was fooling around i wouldn’t have made so much of an effort. wouldn’t have cooked for you, met your family, i would’ve fucked you the day i met you and never spoken to you again.” 

the gears turn in your head, he said it so simply, you knew it was to help put you at ease— it hurt instead. he continues, “i’ve been serious about you since the day you met me for lunch. i like you.” 

“and what happens when you meet someone who’s ready?” you bite, your brain swirling with mingyu’s testimony but also the advice from your twin. “if your ex comes back to this side of the country, if you meet someone who doesn’t have a dead dad, someone actually meant for you.” 

mingyu laughs— the chuckle was not out of amusement, it was dry and venomous and knowing. “there it is.” 

“what?” you ask, shifting in the old leather booth as if you were in the hot seat. 

“they got into your head, didn’t they?” he shakes his head, a sarcastic smile on his face, “i knew they didn’t like me, your friends, your brother— you would never say that on your own.” 

“nobody ‘got to me’, mingyu,” you argue, your fingers twisting on the table between you because they did get to you and you know that, but you think they might be right. “how do you know what i would say and wouldn’t say? like you said, we met two weeks ago.”

his face hits his palms as he sighs, they slide over his skin in frustration, “was it yunho?” 

“what?” your back presses against the cushion of the booth, “was what yunho?” 

the waitress brings your food to the table, halting your conversation or argument. a part of you wanted to thank her for cutting you off, you didn’t know if you wanted him to continue— not when yunho was brought into the conversation. he did, though, as soon as she walked away from the table. 

he cut into his meal– “yunho doesn’t like me.”

“he has never once said that, mingyu,” you respond, cutting into your french toast. diners were best for all day breakfast.

“he doesn’t need to,” he was smiling again, not out of happiness, you couldn’t place his emotions based on his face. his words didn’t match it. “game’s game. this whole conversation is ridiculous, can’t you see that?” 

“what are you talking about?” your eyebrows blend together, so furrowed in confusion you were sure you looked animated, “what am i not seeing?” 

“it’s besides the point,” he pays attention to his food again, his tone laced with irritation. “i like you, i’ve been trying to be consistent with showing how much i like you— how much i want to do this the right way.” 

“i understand if you think we can’t be together because of our age, because of your past, things out of your control, but i want you to know that i don’t agree. i don’t think any of that should be used to factor whether we work or not because i think we work really well.” 

“i think we get along really well, too,” you said, sounding like you were the one trying to convince him now – you snapped yourself back into reality, what you felt, what you knew, not the bubble mingyu put you in. “in the long run i… mingyu i don’t know if i’m ready for all of this.”

“all of what?” he was getting frustrated now, furrowed brows and a tight jaw, “i haven’t tried to take this even one step further. are you scared of what it could turn into?”

“yes, it feels real,” you shake your head, “it feels really real.”

“in any other situation that’d be a good thing,” he takes a hand through his hair, sitting back in the booth, “maybe you’re right. too young, i guess.”

regret washes over you like a bucket of cold water, but you don’t falter in your words, reciting them from someone else’s mouth. “eight years is a lot longer than i thought it was, you know more than i do– i just started dating.”

he nods, lips pursed, but he says nothing for a few moments. you stare at him with flushed cheeks, an uneasiness sitting at the pit of your stomach. it was fight or flight, and there’s nowhere to run– literally. 

“finish your meal and i’ll take you back to campus,” you couldn’t read his tone, but it was definitely not happy. 

like you always did with mingyu, whether you wanted to or it was installed in you, you obeyed. you spent the rest of your meal wishing you could say something else, words at the tip of your tongue that you couldn’t find the voice to say. he paid for your meal, a gentleman until the end, and drove you back to campus. 

“before you go, can i just say one thing?” he says as he turns to you, flipping his sunglasses on top of his head. you nod. 

“you don’t have to listen to them,” he says and your mouth parts to speak, but he cuts you off. “you may think they know everything about you because you grew up with them, but they don’t know how you feel. they don’t know my intentions for you, they don’t know how much i like you.”

“i know you’ve been through a lot in your life and they were there for you every step of the way, but i’d treat you so fucking well. i would never pressure you into marriage, or having kids or whatever worries have been put into your pretty little brain. i’d do whatever you wanted– if you wanted to travel, i’d take you on trips, we could explore every little school on the opposite side of the world. if you wanted to open your own damn school, i’d do that with you, i’d help you. i don’t want you to walk away with the idea that i’m not the one for you— we both know this would’ve worked if you let it.” 

jaw slack and eyes filled with tears, you stared at him. you blinked once, twice, then your lips were on his before you could even process that you had moved an inch. 

you deserve someone who’s gonna appreciate you, cherish you, you’re special and important. 

isn’t that what this is? isn’t this what you’ve been looking for? your brain whirled, mingyu’s tongue licking into your mouth, his huge palms holding your wet cheeks. 

learning about people, experiencing life, trying out different things.

tears flowed down your skin, onto mingyu’s fingers, he just kissed you harder. 

learning how to be independent, how to support yourself, miss out on all of that because you have a rich husband? that’s your goal?

there was only one way this could end– you needed it to end, now, or else you’d never leave his car. you pulled away from mingyu, wide eyed and so fucking confused. you hated yourself in this moment– it felt like being pulled into your living room when mingyu was in your kitchen. being pulled towards comfort and familiarity, when what your future could be was waiting for you, missing you, hoping you’d stay. 

“i’m sorry,” was all you could get out before you were pushing the car door open and racing towards your own.

──────  ꨄ︎

figuring out an outfit for a music festival was hard to begin with, you had too many factors adding onto it that made the task a thousand times worse. you could barely get yourself out of bed this morning for starters, you hopped in the shower half past eleven when you needed to leave at one. because it was late october and most music festivals were held in the summer, even pinterest wasn’t helping you with inspiration. on top of that, having three men in your bedroom without a lick of a feminine fashion sense made it borderline overstimulating, they threw ideas at you while their outside clothes laid all over your unmade bed– it tipped you over the edge. the only good part was that it’s cold outside. 

you went casual– you needed to, you’d be outside for hours and alcohol can only heat you up so much. baggy jeans, a hoodie and an oversized jacket on top, you accessorized with a baseball cap and some sneakers and you were set. a mini purse with nothing but your ID and some lip gloss sat on your shoulder, sunglasses on your face, you’d be warm, comfortable and cute. 

when you walked downstairs to the three boys sitting in your living room, you realized you were all wearing different versions of the same outfit. you copied them without even realizing– naturally, they noticed, and had plenty to say about it. you didn’t care enough to change. 

the drive to the festival wasn’t terrible, little traffic until you got closer to the venue, yunho drove with loud music playing through the speakers and the other two singing along in the backseat. when you arrived, you immediately sent a text to chan letting him know you arrived.

“i want a drink,” you said as soon as you walked through security, yunho on your left and the other two on your right. “who’s paying for it?” 

“why can’t you pay for it? you should buy us drinks,” yeosang huffed, digging his hands further into his pockets. 

“you’re in the clear,” you moved a little closer to yeosang, bumping your shoulder against his. “i didn’t bring money, the other two are responsible for ruining my relationship with mingyu, so they get to buy my drinks all night.” 

san gasps, “i am not responsible–” 

“surfside?” yunho asks, eyes already scanning the area for the nearest bar, not wanting to begin that conversation again. his figure stood over the massive crowd already formed around you, your group definitely did not get there early. 

“yes, please,” a small smile sat on your face as you followed yunho towards the nearest bar, pleased with how quickly he agreed, he bought drinks for the two of you– leaving san and yeosang to fend for themselves. 

san grumbles, “you should buy me a drink for how mean you’ve been.” 

you point your eyes at him and he shrinks under your gaze, voice growing small as he said, “i’ll buy the next round.” 

you walked through the crowd, so many different kinds of people surrounded you. a range of ages, dressed in clothes much more appropriate for a music festival than yours. the energy of the space was so bright, so welcoming, it was beckoning your mood to brighten– you wished you could let it. 

you stayed close to at least one of the three, keeping your eyes peeled under your sunglasses for a blonde boy no taller than five foot eight. he was nowhere to be found, as you assumed since the venue was so massive. you walked up to the first stage, the main stage which was one you wanted to see, a small indie band. you knew some songs, but you wouldn’t know an entire setlist– the show you really wanted to see wasn’t until later. 

being after three and you hadn’t ingested anything other than your morning (afternoon) coffee, the surfside you had taken about four sips of was already going straight to your head. you wore a disinterested look even though the stage was good, the band was putting on a great show, you’ve been miserable since wednesday. you missed mingyu, even if your time together was short– you figured that you might be perpetually stuck between if your choice was right or if you regret it completely. 

“drummer’s hot,” yeosang comes to your side, bumping his shoulder into yours again. 

you shoot him a tight lipped smile, “he’s alright.” 

“bro, cheer up,” he frowns, “if you were normal you’d be drooling over him right now.” 

you roll your eyes, “cheer me up instead of complaining, then.” 

“where’s the whiskey date guy? aren’t we supposed to be meeting up with him?” yeosang asks and you pull out your phone from your pocket, four texts from chan filling your screen. 

chan: UR HERE!!!! chan: wya

chan: hello

chan: were going to the main stage meet us there

already being at the main stage, you typed back a quick response then looked around through your shaded lenses, the blonde nowhere to be found. you nudged yunho’s side, asking him to look for chan instead, he could see a lot better than you could. as he looked out into the crowd farther than your eyes could see, chan found you first. 

“hey!” you heard to your left, a voice that belonged to the one you were searching for. you whipped your head around, a genuine smile surprising you as it filled out your cheeks, waving him over. 

“you found me! i just texted you back,” you said as he wrapped you into a short hug of greeting. 

he stepped back, looking around you, “where are your friends?” 

“here?” you said with eyebrows raised, yeosang, san and yunho coming forward to stand at your sides. “this is san, yeosang and yunho.” 

“oh,” a questioning look grew on his face, then he stepped closer to you, speaking quieter so only you could hear. “when i said bring your friends, i was not expecting a bunch of…dudes?” 

you giggled, “surprised i’m not with a group of girls?”

“for some reason, it explains a lot,” he shrugs and you raise your eyebrows, asking him to explain without verbalizing it. “you aren’t… shy in the way a lot of girls are, i guess, i don’t know, you talk about your relationship problems with me. plus, we’re in the same outfit.”

you look him up and down, realizing he is yet another person you’ve stolen fashion inspiration from. you smack a hand over your mouth, “oh god, you too?” giggles threaten to slip through your palm, before you shrug and say, “i’m one of the guys, i guess.”

“ew,” he physically cringes, “never say that again.”

three guys approached behind chan and you first spot jisung, the one you didn’t meet at chan’s apartment. he looked the same, a mop of brown curls sat atop his head, big, thin frames on his face, a hoodie and baggy jeans on his body. he looked just as cute as the day you first saw him, like a chipmunk you’d spot outside of your living room window on a spring day. 

he wasn’t sexy, he wasn’t massively muscular, he wasn’t six foot three or thirty years old— he wasn’t mingyu. no one could be.

“these are my friends,” chan pointed to each friend as he said, “jisung, jeongin and jihoon.” 

“ah, the J’s!” you introduced yourself to the three of them, your groups quickly merging to create small talk. chan stood close to you, guiding your conversation with his roommates, you talked about the festival, what bands were playing, until you settled into a layer of comfort to speak freely. the surfside was definitely helping. 

you quickly realized the three boys were more reserved, unlike chan– or they were at least not comfortable enough yet to cut through san and yeosang’s voices, who were quickly dominating the conversation with chan. 

“the next band playing is really good,” jihoon finally interrupts, looking around the group with a gaze which didn’t seem shy, instead calculated, like he was waiting for the right moment to speak. he was shorter than everyone, long, black hair laid over his shoulders, you could see the muscles beneath the black tee he wore, nearly masked by the black jacket sat perfectly on his shoulders. he gave the vibe that he had his shit together– clean, healthy, confident. “do you guys want to stay? who are you here to see?” 

“jungle is playing later,” you reply, “on stage B i believe, at eight? i want to see them the most.” 

“TV girl is playing at six,” yeosang cuts in, warm brown hair that’s gotten noticeably longer was falling over his temples now, “still woozy plays in about an hour.”

“you like still woozy?” jeongin asked yeosang, as if hearing jihoon’s voice gave him the confidence to speak up himself. the two were just about the same height, yeosang was maybe an inch taller than jeongin. his face was insane, to say the least– sharp jaw, high cheekbones, almond shaped eyes that curved up ever so slightly at the edges. he was the other one out of the four that resembled an animal in the most gorgeous way, black hair laying across his forehead that made the shadows of his face deepen further. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was a model, if not a fox turned human– you wondered if he had any interest in you.

“where have you been keeping them?” you say in chan’s ear, leaning closely into his side. chan chuckles, looking down at the ground, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie. 

“i keep them locked in their rooms, they’re only allowed out during feeding time,” he jokes, a wide smile on his face, voice turning to a hushed whisper as he says, “stop ogling them, jisung will get jealous.” 

“then jisung should do something about it,” you retort as you bring your gaze back to the group– jisung couldn’t see who you were looking at anyways, you still had your sunglasses resting on the bridge of your nose.

“let him get a few more drinks in him, he will,” chan nods nonchalantly as he looks away from you. you rolled your eyes under the shades– you didn’t care either way, but the outright admittance of jisung needing alcohol to talk to you rubbed you the wrong way. 

your group travels to another stage, watching a different group play while waiting for still woozy to start their performance. jisung trailed behind the group with jihoon, the two seemed to be a pair so far, then yeosang, san and jeongin had split off to the side. you walked between yunho and chan, three quarters of your surfside had already heated you up enough to where the bite of the air was more of a light nibble on your cheeks. 

“i need another,” you said in san’s direction, wiggling your can that had little liquid left in it. 

san frowns, “already?” 

you threw the last bit of liquid back, swallowing it quickly, and handed it to san. “yes, please.”

he grabs the can from your hands and turns to the group, wearing a look of irritation even if he doesn't care at all– he’ll let the act go on for as long as he deems necessary. drama queen. “anyone else need another?” 

chan and his roommates hadn’t gotten drinks yet, and yeosang needed a refill– leaving you alone with yunho, where you stood watching the random band playing on the stage. 

“the curly headed one is interested in you,” yunho comments without looking at you, voice flat as he brings his beer to his lips to take a sip. it should catch you off guard how quickly he noticed without you and jisung having any interactions so far, but you were done with being inside yunho’s head. 

you let out a sound of amusement instead, “and?” 

“just letting you know,” he looks down at you, “it seems you know already.” 

you shoot him a pointed look before turning back to the stage, the two of you falling into silence. your stomach grows warm, the drink you’d already chugged down had begun fulfilling its purpose– warming you up first and foremost, helping you forget how miserable you’d become second. 

“i don’t know what to say to you to make things better,” yunho admits, keeping his focus on the band. his mouth twists to one side, discomfort sitting on his features, you two hadn’t really spoken since wednesday. 

you came home the day you ended things with mingyu in tears, anger replacing every atom in your body as if you’d become a pot overflowing with boiling water– you lost it, all of your feelings were directed at both san and yunho. they were sitting on the couches in your living room, completely blindsided when you decided they alone were responsible for how your relationship with mingyu ended. both boys had fought you on it.

ace didn’t have it in him to mediate your argument, he had his own relationship issues to work through, instead he and yeosang watched the three of you yell at each other for minutes until you fully broke down. not once did either of them tell you to make up with mingyu, to reconsider their words, but instead they consoled you for the two week long relationship you were clearly grieving– it pissed you off even more.

after you had time to process the argument, you realized all you wanted was their approval– you wanted them to tell you to get back with him, you wanted them to like him as much as you did, as much as you do. for three days now you've been sitting with your anger, only giving curt responses around your house, spending most of your time in your bedroom, you considered not even coming today. 

you needed to get out– you needed a boyfriend before thanksgiving. 

“there’s nothing for you to say,” you shrug, then cross your arms over your chest. “even if i reached out to him now, i don’t think he’ll ever see me as anything other than an immature twenty two year old. it’s done.” 

he sips his beer again. “you are an immature twenty two year old.” you snap your gaze up at him, ready to bite back, but he continues. “that’s what you’re supposed to be, this is how it should be.” 

a dry laugh escapes you, one that lets him know there was nothing funny at all. “how it should be? at a music festival waiting for a guy to get the balls to speak to me?” 

he speaks through an exhale, “at least this guy is your age, tiny.”

you step to the side, giving yourself space from him, not wanting to slip into a fit of anger and ruin the day for everyone, you know you will if you continue the conversation. your mind whirls as you keep your gaze locked on the stage, not hearing one beat of the drum nor a single strum of the guitar, ears ringing as you try to calm yourself down. 

“i’m sorry,” he says as he steps closer, his voice quiet, only for your ears. “i didn’t think you’d be this hurt, i guess.”

“i came home bawling my eyes out and screamed at you,” you said, baffled, not fully believing him. you hadn’t argued over anything more serious than what you were having for dinner in years. “you didn’t think it hurt?” 

“i’ll stop meddling,” he pulls his lips together, forming a tight line. you see the group of boys returning to where you stood from behind yunho, drinks in tow, you turn to face the stage again. 

“you won’t have the chance to meddle again, i learned my lesson for good,” you say flatly, and he sighs. the sigh was both long and loud, he was truly defeated– he didn’t know how to handle you. you couldn’t comprehend why he felt the need to in the first place. 

“we should head to stage C,” chan says as soon as he returns, san right on his tail to hand you your drink. you were grateful yunho didn’t have the time to continue the conversation. you slap a smile on your face and thank him for the drink before asking chan who’s playing at stage C. 

chan smirks, “weezer.” 

“oh, brother,” you laugh, “let’s go.” 

you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or if you were starting to have a good time, but the time you spent watching weezer while you waited for still woozy to come on seemed to break up the dark cloud looming above you. chan stayed close, he was bleeding positive energy that you didn’t know if he was pushing onto you on purpose, or if it was just him. either way, the smile that sat on your face became more and more genuine, less forced as time went by. 

by the time you made it to still woozy’s set, you were past the level of comfortably warm and leaning towards hot. you stopped at the bar again after weezer, you were just tipsy enough to buy all eight of you a round of shots– the plan was not to get drunk, but that seemed to be the direction the day was going in, who were you to stop it? 

just before the set began, jeongin and yeosang had pulled your group by the wrists to fight through the crowd and get as close to the front as you could. you let yunho and san guide you into the mass of people, two walls of muscle and height to give you a path, the crowd didn’t bother you one bit. your smile was more than genuine now, you couldn’t wipe it off your face– this was a music festival, seeing bands you never would’ve thought of buying tickets for, a group of people gathered in one place that enjoyed the same music as you. you were already thinking of going to more. 

swaying side to side, singing a song you’d heard on repeat in yeosang’s car at the top of your lungs, you almost didn’t catch the eyes that couldn’t leave you. attached to a mop of curly brown hair, behind massive lenses, a gaze of chocolate brown accompanied by a small smile seemed entranced by you. you smiled back when you noticed, then turned your head back to the band– jisung took that as an invitation. 

walking up beside you, jisung didn’t say anything at first. his head nodded along to the song, curls bouncing across his forehead, fingers wrapped around a plastic cup. with a stomach full of vodka, you were almost excited– you wanted to encourage him, give him the confidence, tell him to say something. 

but you didn’t– and jisung still said nothing after the entire song. 

after the song ended, there was a moment of silence amongst the crowd, the inbetween waiting for the next song to play. you glanced around for your friends– yeosang and jeongin were mid conversation, yeosang’s body leaned into jeongin’s but not quite touching, his body language saying you weren’t the only one who found jeongin attractive. damn. 

yunho and jihoon stood behind everyone, the height difference between the two almost made you giggle, where san and chan stood next to them. the four weren’t speaking, but holding their drinks and watching the performance instead, all shooting you a warm look when you caught their eyes. 

you turned to jisung, “can you do me a favor?” he nodded, eyes widening slightly in surprise. “can you hold my drink while i take my jacket off, please?” 

he nodded again and you handed him your can, slightly struggling to get your jacket off over your sleeves. when you got it off, you threw it over your forearm, and jisung handed you your can back. 

“do you, uh– want me to hold your jacket?” he asked, his eyes wide and sparkling– his tone seemed unsure of his own words, but he still said them. 

“no, no, don’t worry about it,” you beamed, “thank you.”

as the next song started to play, a few strums of the guitar woke up the crowd, screams erupting around you. one of the screams had come from yeosang, who had his hands shaped in an oval around his mouth, making his yell that much louder.

you giggled and turned back to jisung who was also smiling in yeosang’s direction, “he really likes still woozy.”

“i would’ve never guessed,” he says sarcastically, his smile never dropping. “you seem to like them, too.” 

“i do, but not as much as yeo. he should be up at the barricade,” you point your chin in the direction of the front of the stage. 

“i think jeongin should go with him,” jisung shrugs, “they seem to be a pair.”

“by the end of the night someone will have to rip yeo off of him,” you joke, and jisung laughs. a soft chuckle, but you sense a wall come down, another shred of confidence popping through his reserved demeanor. you smile. 

“what about you?” jisung asks, eyes still moon-shaped, as if he was scared to ask the question. 

your eyebrows furrow, head tilting to the side, “what about me?”

“chan said you had a boyfriend, he isn't here?” jisung’s lips form a line as if he was scared to hear the answer, your face immediately mimics his, but for an entirely different reason. you didn’t think jisung knew about mingyu, unless chan filled him in and didn’t tell you. you hadn’t filled chan in on the recent developments concerning mingyu, either. 

“i don’t have a boyfriend, i’m not seeing anyone,” you shake your head and turn to the stage. jisung felt the shift in mood, stepping forward, into your view. 

“sorry if i overstepped,” he shook his head, “chan said–”

“chan didn’t know, doesn’t know, you're fine,” you give him a weak smile, and the conversation runs flat. you took the last swig of your surfside– you needed this feeling gone, as if mingyu never happened in the first place. 

“do you want another drink?” jisung asks as soon as the can leaves your lips, “my treat.” 

you give him a singular nod, and before you could process it, jisung was leading you through the pack of people. you didn’t tell a soul where you were going, you walked right through the wall of boys as if they were waiting for you to run off with jisung. where the crowd was more condensed, jisung took a pause, making you stop in your tracks behind him. 

“gimme this,” he muttered as he grabbed your jacket and your empty can, then took your hand with his free one. “stay close to me.” 

your cheeks flushed as you nodded, the heat that was already consuming your entire being only grew in temperature. maybe he’s the type that’s only shy at first. your eyes stayed trained on your linked fingers, his hands were soft, calluses on the tips of his fingers that laid over your knuckles. 

“do you play guitar?” you asked as you made it to the outskirts of the crowd, jisung took a pause that had you flipping his hand over, inspecting the tougher skin atop his fingers. 

“uh— yes,” you glance up, his cheeks pink, the ends of his curls lying along the frames of his glasses. “i make music, i’m studying composing, songwriting, all that stuff.” 

“chan told me,” you smile as you let his fingers go, nearing the feeling of cuteness aggression the more you look at him. all you could muster was a breathy “that’s cool”.

his smile grew and he tugged on your hand again, rough fingertips laid on your knuckles once more as he pulled you towards the bar. behind it was a man who you, at first, couldn’t believe was a bartender— black hair that touched his broad shoulders, a slender figure with a muscular structure that seemed too curated for bartending to be his career. a black long sleeve shirt clung to every inch of him, baggy jeans that hung loose on his hips, an outfit you’d definitely be taking inspiration from. 

his face was nothing short of beautiful, plump lips, a white smile that sparkled when he asked what you’d be drinking. 

jisung turned to you with an eyebrow raised, a questioning look. you cleared your throat, “a surfside, please.” 

“miller, please,” jisung nodded towards him and the bartender shot you another smile before he was opening your cans. you were mesmerized as he grabbed the bar key with nimble fingers, cracking the tab with practiced movements, a speed that told you maybe this was his full time career. 

jisung paid as promised and you took your time making it back to stage C happily with small talk and a lazy stride, choosing to hang at the back of the crowd instead of fighting towards the middle where you stood before. 

jisung’s presence had enveloped your mind quicker than you thought it would, once you broke the ice it was easier to talk to him, speaking as freely as you would with someone who’d been your friend way longer than just a day. you didn’t talk of anything personal, not school, your family, your friends, your interests, your intentions, but instead small talk that came too easily, standing close while you swayed to goodie bag. 

it was comfortable— it wasn’t forced, it wasn’t staged, it wasn’t planned. it wasn’t even obvious that jisung was interested in you, there were no pickup lines, no quick-witted flirting, yet you knew and you might even like it. maybe what you need right now is simplicity. 

when your friends came out of the crowd in laughter and giddy smiles, you felt lighter, the energy around you felt brighter, the air felt clearer, you almost forgot you walked into the venue miserable. with TV girl playing shortly at another stage, there was no time to stand and talk, you and jisung quickly slipped into the crowd of your friend group mid-conversation as if you never ran off in the first place. 

“what’s your guys’ favorite song?” yeosang asked the group, bouncing on his feet as you approached the already formed crowd, jeongin at his side. 

“the whole french exit album,” you were first to answer. “birds don’t sing, louise, lover’s rock, the blonde.” 

“tiny’s a romantic,” you heard san announce, and it brings a smile to your face— whether it was sarcasm or a dig you didn’t care, maybe now you were a romantic. “i only know lover’s rock.” 

“tiny?” jisung asks, turning to you, an eyebrow raised. “that’s you?” 

“unfortunately,” you nod, “been tiny since the womb, practically.” 

“fitting,” jisung smacks his lips together and flattens his brows in contemplation then quickly to understanding— you couldn’t find it in you to feel embarrassed. 

jihoon turns to chan, “you listen to TV girl a lot, right?” 

chan nods towards him, “you should know more than lover’s rock, i play their music all the time at home. better in the dark?” he glances around to empty stares, he raises his eyebrows with expectancy and sings, “the lighter makes a spark, but i look better in the dark.” 

jisung, jihoon and jeongin all simultaneously release a dragged out “oh” in remembrance, and chan rolls his eyes. he turns to you, “they don’t remember shit. too much weed, they smoke.” 

you giggle, then tilt your head to the side, an idea coming to mind. “did anyone bring any?” 

jihoon shoots you a lazy smile, “of course i did, you smoke?” 

you shake your head, “not particularly, but i’m down to.” 

jihoon reaches into his pocket, pulling out a black leather wallet, several joints tucked into one of the folds. he plucks one out, wasting no time as he holds it between his fingers, your group tightens its circle around jihoon as if he was holding gold. 

yunho eyed you from the opposite side of the circle, where you were standing between chan and jisung, he was between san and jihoon. his eyes were observing, debating, a pointed look that forced you to notice it. you shrugged him off, smoking at a music festival just felt right— you didn’t want or need him to parent you, even if you had been drinking already. 

jihoon was quick to light the twisted end of the joint, the red hot flame of his black lighter was enough to color all of your faces an amber hue. you stood like kids, huddled around jihoon like he had a secret to tell, where he took three puffs of the joint to get it burning. your eyes widened as you watched his technique, how he blew on the end of the joint to keep it burning evenly, pink lips tightened to a perfect O shape– a gorgeous sight. 

the circle opens up as you begin passing, a sweet melody in your ear and a pungent smell in your nose, forcing your body into moving to the beat. jisung, beside you, sways his hips in the same motion as yours, a fit of giggles erupting from your lungs as you move in unison. too focused on jisung, you didn’t realize chan was holding the joint out to you. 

you inhaled slowly, you hadn’t smoked since the last time you were at the frats, that had been months ago. you knew the basics, you kept your hits of the joint small, especially since you had a few drinks in you, you were never really a smoker. socially, in the kitchen of a massive frat house, or on the balcony of the only person you consistently hooked up with at school, that only lasted just shy of a month.  

the burn in your lungs and the cough that fought to break through your lips felt nostalgic, you felt so light you could float up to the clouded night sky. immediately immersed into a sense of calm, like stepping into a bath of warm water, you smiled as you passed the joint to jisung. every bone in your body told you you needed that. 

your ears perked to the conversation happening around you, yeosang, san and jeongin in some sort of debate, the joint had made its way to yunho by now. you could feel everything slow down, your eyes hooding, sitting at half mast just from two hits. 

“ah,” jisung tilts his head back in delight, “that strain fucks, hoon.” you couldn’t stop the small giggle from leaving you at fucks.

jihoon smiles, confident as ever, “right?” he looks around the group before he adds, “i grew it myself.” 

san’s jaw drops as he takes the joint from yunho, “you grow it?” 

“right in my backyard,” jihoon nods, “it’s better that way.” 

you check out of the conversation, your focus back on the crowd, not a thought in your brain, yet instead paying attention to the hues of blue and pink that lay over the crowd like blankets. you could see backs of heads and nothing more, shaded eyes not quite reaching the stage, but the light show that cascaded over the mass of people was enough. 

you almost didn’t notice the presence next to you, you hadn’t even realized you moved, as jisung planted his feet directly next to yours, your neck nearly snapped up in surprise. 

“so pretty,” he says, eyes glazed over as they stared out into the crowd, his thoughts probably matched yours. 

“the lights?” you asked, flipping your sunglasses atop your head so you could see clearer.

“you mainly,” he looks down to you and you meet his eyes, not missing the pink that kissed his cheeks, “but yeah, i guess the lights, too.” 

your own cheeks flush– this was the first he was showing interest. you smile through a giggle, “that was smooth, jisung.”

“wanna get closer?” he asks you, reaching for your hand again before you had a moment to answer. 

as he pulled you along, you asked, “are you sure you don’t want to keep smoking?” 

he looks over his shoulder and it nearly takes your breath away, he’s so cute you think you’d follow him around all night, especially if he keeps looking at you like that. as if he’d go anywhere with you, as if he didn’t care about anything else, you saw his feelings in his eyes. he was into you. he smiles, “do you?”

“let’s go,” you nod your head and pull your sunglasses over your eyes again, headed behind jisung into the crowd that was packed like sardines. mumbles of ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ left him as he cut through people, keeping you close to him with a firm grip on your hand, you could feel the calluses on your knuckles so much more. 

when you made it somewhat towards the middle, a pocket of space amongst the crowd, jisung finally stopped and turned to you for approval. you put your sunglasses atop your head again, tucking your hair behind your ears, your view was so much better now. 

the music was louder, the lights were clearer, now it was just you and jisung– you weren’t sure if you were at the festival anymore or if you were up in the clouds. the only thing that could make this better would be if you could actually see the stage. you wish yunho had followed you.

as if he heard your thoughts, jisung’s voice was loud when he asked, “can you see?” 

you shook your head, “the lights are so pretty, it doesn’t even matter.” 

“you're going to think i’m crazy, don’t think i'm crazy,” he prefaces, bracing himself for rejection with a shy smile, “do you want to get on my shoulders?” 

you laugh in disbelief, loudly, looking at him with wide eyes and jaw slack. he raises his eyebrows, “you’re tiny, right?”

“i am tiny but not like that,” you wave your free hand in front of you, “i don’t want to hurt you.” 

he rolls his eyes with a cocky smile, “if you could see what was under the hoodie you wouldn’t be saying that.” 

your eyes widen impossibly further, that was the last thing you expected to leave his lips. a smirk appears on your own, “oh, now you’re confident, huh?” 

“is it working?” 

“maybe.” 

“then get on,” he squats down, your jacket still folded over his forearm but he’s careful not to let it touch the ground. you suck in a breath– this could go one of two ways, especially since you both drank and smoked, either you’ll have an incredible view or everyone will watch you fall to the dirt. 

fuck it. 

you swing a denim covered leg around his neck, slightly hopping up to straddle his nape. you giggle as you do, the action was almost sobering, the amount of focus it took you to balance. as he stood up your hands flew to his curls, the only thing you could think to grab onto to steady yourself, a slew of apologies leaving your lips after you accidentally tugged. 

“jisung!” you yelled, “i didn’t know what else to grab.” 

you could hear the shake of his shoulders as he laughed beneath your thighs, “i could make a terrible joke right now, but i’m not going to.” 

it takes you a moment to catch on, but when you do, you laugh. “nothing but a man.” 

“a man that has you on his shoulders,” he bites back, “enjoy the show.” 

you finally looked up and the stage was finally clear– shrouded in blue light, the members visible, the music so loud– it was nothing short of exhilarating. the thought crosses your mind that maybe this was what yunho was talking about, being in your twenties and experiencing, you don’t know if you would have ever made it onto mingyu’s shoulders in the crowd of a TV girl concert. you guess you’ll never know, and for the first time since wednesday, the thought didn’t fill you with dread - you supposed you have vodka and weed to thank.

instead you screamed– an excited scream, for the band, for the show, for how fucking good their music is. definitely high, more than a little drunk and nearly seven feet in the air, you were positive your night couldn’t get any better. there was nothing better than this. 

“hey!” you heard from beneath you, stealing your attention fully. jisung turns to the side, which turns you to the side, your entire friend group beneath you with wide grins and red, glossed over eyes. 

“hey guys!” you yelled back, your smile reaching ear to ear, “i’m up here!”

“we see you,” yeosang is smiling, “how’s the view?”

“incredible,” you’re gleaming, “this is so fucking cool!” 

san, yeosang and yunho all watch you with soft eyes, warmth in their bodies, you could read their emotions from their faces— superpowers only granted to those who have been friends for two decades. the other three boys stared at you with something like surprise on their faces, for that you could only guess what for, and you didn’t have the brain power to think that deeply about anything right now. you caught chan and yunho locking eyes, yunho shooting chan a dry nod as if to say ‘i told you so’.

you cocked your head to the side for a moment before the thought was gone. you take a sip from your surfside, this one going down much slower than the last ones, and ask the group, “do we have any more weed?” 

“i don’t think you need any more,” san says through an amused smile, with a small shake of his head. he was done being a drama queen. “you’ll fall off the boy’s shoulders.”

“yunho’s here,” you shrug, “he’ll catch me. did you guys know yunho is actually spiderman?” a fit of giggles slips through your lips, your head falling back in laughter. it throws your balance off, making jisung take a step back, and the whole six of them lunge forward. you grab onto jisung’s curls again, stabilizing yourself, “whoa, sorry, i’m getting too comfortable up here.” 

“you should get down,” yunho says with concern as the group walks forward, making something like a crowd around you and jisung without it being obvious it’s to catch you if you fall. “you’re fucked up, teens, you’ll fall.” 

“boo,” you frown, throwing a thumbs down in yunho’s direction. “i like it up here. did you forget you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore?” 

yunho’s jaw tightens, his eyebrows flattening. he chooses not to answer, instead yeosang steps in, saying your actual name in a warning tone. 

“what?” you ask, dumbfounded, “i just wanna watch the show.” 

you bring your attention back to the stage, one hand in jisung’s hair, mindlessly twirling chocolate covered curls around your finger as the other hand brings your surfside back to your lips. you missed the way yeosang, san and yunho shared a look, how the three of them began to realize where tonight was headed, none of them looking forward to it. 

when TV girl’s set ended you were back on the ground, staying close to jisung’s side as you walked toward stage B, excitement flooding you that jungle was next. 

“i can’t wait,” you bounced next to jisung, a wide smile on your face, “do you like jungle?” 

“love jungle,” he nodded, “back on 74? banger.” 

“my favorite is i’ve been in love,” you beam, “i know every word, i think there was a three day period where all i listened to was that song.”

“three days of one song?” he looked at you with raised eyebrows and eyes that looked like the moon hung above you, full and bright, “i would lose my mind.” 

“we listen to music differently, though,” you counter, “i bet you hear a bunch of stuff i don’t. how it’s made, background stuff, lyrics, i just like it when a song sounds good.” 

he smiles, “music’s heard differently by everyone, that’s the cool thing about it. i couldn’t live without it.” 

you groan, “a world without music?” you emphasized your words dramatically, hopefully to humor the boy who knew more about music than you ever would, “that’s called hell.” 

he laughs loudly, hunching forward a bit to catch his mouth with his hand, “i can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.” 

“i’m serious!” you laugh too, accidentally stepping over your foot and bumping into his side, “sorry. but i am serious, i couldn’t live in a world where music didn’t exist.” 

you step into the line for the bar without even thinking or discussing that you would, you didn’t know where everyone else had gone. something about the food trucks by the main entrance. 

“have you been friends with them for a long time?” jisung asks, moving in front of you, and your eyes glaze over his figure. his clothes fit him so nicely, his hoodie perfectly oversized, jeans lying over the laces of his sneakers at just the right spot. “you seem like you’ve been friends forever.” 

“ever since i can remember, they’ve been in my life,” you nod with a smile, head tilting to the side. your eyes felt heavy. “they’re my brothers, basically.” 

“i only have one older brother,” his lips form a tight smile, “must be nice to have three.”

“four,” you correct him, stepping forward in line, “i have an actual brother, he’s my twin.”

“and you’re all friends?”

“our parents are close friends, so naturally we are, too,” you nod. wanting to change the subject, with a devilish smile you ask, “should we get shots?”

jisung lets out a huff of amusement through his nose, “can you handle shots?” 

“i fear i might need shots,” you say through a breath, you felt like you were slowing down. if you slowed down any further, the sadness would creep back in. “i’ll get this round.” 

he looks at you inquisitively, like he wanted to ask but didn’t know if he should. instead he waves you off and says, “nah, i’ll get them, if you need one so badly.”

you smile and lightly slap his bicep, “now you’re making me sound like an alcoholic, it’s just been a tough week.” 

he nods as you step forward again, one group in front of you in line. “i can understand that, this is good timing, then. the festival, and me.” 

your head snaps up to look at him like a deer caught in headlights, fumbling over your words, “no– i–”

“don’t worry about it,” he shakes his head, “let’s just have fun.” 

you take a second to close your mouth, and nod with a weak smile. he orders you tequila shots and hard liquor drinks this time– go big or go home, his words. as you sipped through a tiny straw on your way back to stage B, you realized he was right, shots and a drink drink were much needed– go big or go home, indeed. your brain was even foggier as you approached the dark stage, jungle wasn’t playing just yet, but you could see small shadows of people setting up the stage from the back of the crowd. 

“should we go up there?” you ask jisung, referring to the crowd, slurring your words ever so slightly. 

the corner of his lips lifted up into a smile, his eyes glossed over just like your own, he’s keeping up with you. ���i think we should definitely go up there.”

fingers linked again, pressing through bodies in the crowd, the rest of your friends weren’t a thought in your brain. a wide smile on your face, all you could think was jisung and jungle. he was the perfect person to rip you out of whatever funk you were in. 

jisung got you both closer than you’d been the entire time you were at the festival, it was condensed but not as packed as the first twenty rows of people– you still had wiggle room. he tugged on your hand to bring you even closer to the stage, but you didn’t feel like being a sardine, you had pulled his back to keep you both in the spot you deemed perfect. he’d pulled his phone out to take a picture of the stage, most likely to send to one of his friends to let them know where you were, but you kept your phone in your purse, selfishly hoping they wouldn’t find you. you just wanted to be, here with jisung, watching the show together. 

as the lights came on, screams erupted from around you, also from you and jisung. the crowd collapsed inward, pushing you into the people in front of you– a meek yelp left your lips as people behind you pushed into you. jisung was quick to grab your wrist and pull you in front of him, wrapping his arms around your front over your shoulders, laying one wrist over another in front of you. 

you tilt your head up, fear still lingering in your eyes from almost getting crushed, “thank you.” 

he gave you a tight lipped smile and you swooned. his hoodie was so soft, so warm, his arms wrapped around you made you feel safe, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. your back pressed to his front, your head laid back on his chest right under his chin, your fuzzy brain wouldn’t let you stop smiling. jungle opened with back on 74 and both you and jisung sang along with the rest of the crowd, swaying side to side, your heads tilted upward to watch the stage. 

you weren’t careful of how much you leaned into him, you couldn’t, that power left you a drink and a shot ago. you completely relied on jisung’s strength to keep you held up as you relinquished the little core strength you had, your fingers on one hand gripping your jacket laid on his forearm, the other holding your drink. his body was sturdy, strong, it felt good pressed against you. your lips stretched to one side, the alcohol was hitting you more than you thought it would– from how often you’d been getting laid, you’d worked up something like a routine with your body, and here jisung was. 

“you comfortable?” he asked in your ear, deep voice sending vibrations through your entire body. 

you answered with a mhm that came deep in your soul, you were more than comfortable– you wanted him. 

your mind travelled as jungle played through their setlist, three songs deep now, you began to wonder if jisung wanted you, too. you tested the waters, pressing your back into him a little harder, but he stayed solid. you rolled your head to the side, let your fingers travel up and down his cotton clad arm, humming along to the song playing. 

his hands finally moved, fingers traveling down to your waist, to your hips, moving with you. a smile grew on your lips as you kept swaying to the music, body still pressed against him– you should be embarrassed with the amount of people around you, they could be watching you, eyes glued to the way your hips were moving on jisung. the thought was fleeting, you didn’t care– jisung, wanted you, too, that’s all that mattered. 

jisung and jungle.

his head came down to reach your ear again, “you know what you’re doing, right?” 

you smiled, an innocent one that he couldn’t see, “you said let’s have fun.” 

he laughed from behind you, a quick chuckle that had your neck bending to look up at him. his smile was intoxicating if you weren’t already, his lips so pink and plump, you wondered what they tasted like. he caught your eyes, seeming like he could read your mind, but he caught your eyes as they dipped down to his mouth and back up at his own. that only meant one thing.

something unreadable crossed his face before he was leaning down, attaching his lips to yours. his speed took you by surprise, as if he mentally said fuck it, but you were even quicker to reciprocate. opening your mouth ever so slightly you deepened the kiss, warmth spreading across your body, momentarily giving you reprieve before the awkward angle and the urge to have more of him consumed you. 

your drink fell to the dirt before your hands came up to cup his cheeks, body completely turning to face him so that your front pressed to his instead. his hands came to your hips again, planted firmly against your jeans, the tips of cold pinkies slipping underneath your hoodie, the chill of his fingers making you shiver. 

it was electric– it was exactly what you needed. your favorite band playing in the background, kissing a boy you’d only met today, this is what yunho was talking about. this was being twenty two, living, experiencing, doing things for the fuck of it… you were starting to hate when he was right. 

“hey,” he said between kisses, making you pull away, catching your breath. a hand came up to wipe at your wet bottom lip as he pressed his curl covered forehead against yours, your breaths still coming out uneven. his eyes were darker, even more glazed over, you wondered how that was even possible. he smiled, that same smile that just did you in moments prior, “i like you.” 

you didn’t miss a beat as you said, “then keep kissing me,” and found his lips again. 

he took a hand up to your jaw, tilting your head back, tongue slipping through your lips. you moaned, not a care in the world for the people around you. you would’ve asked him to take you in a port a potty if you weren’t interrupted a moment after. 

“damn,” you wouldn’t have bat an eye if it didn’t come from a voice you recognized. chan was giggling as he got closer to you, “i don’t know how we even recognized you, if you got any closer you might’ve merged into one.” 

you literally jumped, cheeks flushing as if you were a child getting caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. chan wore the widest smirk on his red cheeks and you couldn’t help but scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. a grumble left your lips, “cockblocker.” 

following him were the rest of the boys one by one, slipping through spaces in the crowd to take their places around you as if they’d been searching for you. out of breath, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed as you and jisung took a step closer to one another again. you caught his eye, he wore the same look you did– horny, frustrated, disappointed. 

after your shared look you bit your lip out of annoyance, then your eyebrows shot to your hairline as you brought your empty palms out in front of you. you looked up to jisung, “where did my drink go?!”

jisung threw his head back in laughter before he pointed to the ground, your now empty cup crushed and covered in dirt. you pouted, “i dropped it?” 

“you don’t even remember?” he was still giggling, hand covering his mouth, the corners of his eyes crinkled. 

“here,” chan said, pushing his cup into your hand– whiskey, neat. you stared at the cup in your hand, face immediately falling, eyebrows furrowing and not because you didn’t like whiskey. you looked back up to chan and his eyes widened, hand lurching forward to grab it from your hands. “my bad, i’m sorry, ohmygod.”

another drink replaced its spot in your hand, a surfside, freshly cracked, still cold. you looked up to yunho in front of you, the one who put it in your hands, and he gave you a warm smile. “better, right?” 

“much, thank you,” a smile replaced your frown as you took a sip, body whipping around to watch jungle again. a heavy hand rested on your shoulder, yunho standing directly behind you. 

he bent down to your ear, much like how jisung did minutes ago, his voice lowered as he said, “pretend we’re not even here.” 

you thanked him with your eyes, body moving before you could process it, skipping to your spot in front of jisung again, where he immediately laid his arms over your shoulders. you hung your head forward, looking around for your group, jeongin and yeosang were holding hands now, san and chan standing too close for that to be nothing, yunho and jihoon silently watching the band. 

you smiled to yourself– despite being annoyed by their interruption, chan damn near pulling you off of jisung, you liked this. you liked chan’s friends being with yours, a blend of people you never would’ve expected hanging out, and enjoying it on top of it all. you wouldn’t mind if you did this more. 

as the familiar tune of i’ve been in love reverberates throughout the crowd, you gasp. “jisung!” you exclaim, your smile massive as you look up at him, “they’re playing it!” 

he beams, eyes full of warmth as he looks down at you, “they knew you were here.” 

you start rapping along, head leaning back onto jisung’s chest. to your surprise, he raps along with you, the two of you going word for word with the band. you looked up to him with shock written all over your face, the two of you getting louder as realization set in, as the song continued. you couldn’t help the stupid smile that you couldn’t wipe off your face, not that you tried– not that you even wanted to try. 

as the song nears its end, you thought over yunho’s words again. pretend we’re not even here.

if they weren’t here, you never would’ve stopped kissing jisung– you already missed his lips on yours. you tilted your head up, doe eyes to doe eyes, jisung was already staring back down at you. you smiled as you glanced down to his lips, a question on your own, one you didn’t have to ask because he wanted it, too. 

warm and soft, already slick with his spit, you could focus on how he felt this time instead of your drunken need overpowering your senses. with newfound clarity, the outcome was just as damning, getting lost in jisung’s lips was just as easy as the first time. keeping a loose hold on your can, you swung your body to face him without breaking the kiss, your other arm wrapping around his shoulder. 

“you’re so hot,” he mumbles into your lips, hands traveling up to your waist, beneath your hoodie. a chill racked through you as a soft noise left your lips, too gone to answer, too lost in the way he made you feel, the temperature of his fingertips against your skin. 

“leave with us, stay over tonight,” a statement that was also a question, jisung’s voice was heavy, a depth to it told you he needed you just as bad. 

“maybe,” you kissed him again, your voice airy, not here nor there. your surroundings had left you— it was only you and jisung in that moment, that’s all you cared about. you couldn’t think about after, you couldn’t think about mere minutes from now, all you could think was how you never wanted his lips to leave yours. 

you missed how yunho watched from his peripherals, how his eyebrows flattened, how his lips formed to a thin line. he couldn’t focus on the band in front of him, he knew you loved them, which made him love them, too, yet you weren’t even paying attention. yunho was dumbfounded— with you, with himself, with his own emotions— he didn’t know what to do. 

after decades of knowing you, his bright eyed, favorite girl, he didn’t think there was this much of you left to figure out. he’s watched you grow up, he himself grew up alongside you, he’s seen you through every phase, every change, but nothing could’ve prepared him for this one. 

random hookups throughout high school, college, none of that actually mattered— you already consumed his mind day and night, but after you started dating, he picked himself apart piece by piece, hoping to realize what you didn’t see in him. 

yunho looked to his left, yeosang was kissing jeongin now. that didn’t take him by surprise. 

yunho looked to his right, san was looking at chan with a hunger yunho had never seen in his eyes before. that should've been more surprising than it was. 

in front of the two boys were you and jisung, that made yunho want to crawl out of his skin. he saw you kissing him moments prior, he even told you to do so in other words, for a moment yunho thought maybe he was a masochist. a glutton for pain, for torture, whatever this feeling was as he stared at you, eyes closed, fingers tangled in that boy’s hair. 

yunho had to let go. he’d already fucked up, he’d already let too many of his feelings slip through the reins of his self restraint, he’s already endured you screaming in his face once, he’d die before he hurt you enough to do it again. he told himself this is just another phase, another change, you’ll come out of it smarter, more experienced, different. he can’t help but be a little scared that you’ll actually succeed in finding a boyfriend. 

as your face detaches from jisung’s to take a breather, yunho can see your glazed over eyes, your expression that read all of nothing, you’d been drinking for hours now without a morsel of food in your stomach. he’s seen you drunk, hammered, hurled over a toilet for hours on end— but you looked happy, which you haven’t in days, yunho didn’t want to interrupt but he didn’t want you throwing up in the dirt, either. 

yunho was at a crossroads. as jungle wrapped up their set and you unwrapped yourself from jisung’s embrace, your face changed, the knit of your eyebrow told him something wasn’t right. he was quick on his feet, two long strides had him at your side, asking you what’s wrong. 

“i dunno,” you mumbled, eyebrows furrowing, your free hand coming up to your face, cold palm pressed against your hot cheek. even through your mask of inebriation, he knew that look, he could read it all over you— this wasn’t about the boy, this was about mingyu. 

“let’s go home,” yunho bent down, level with your face to look into your eyes, he could see the tears before they formed. it put a knot in his stomach. 

“okay,” your voice was strained, raw. yunho felt like he’d been punched in the gut. he should've told you not to smoke, especially after drinking so much, he shouldn’t have brought you that last drink— he should’ve warned you that drinking wouldn’t fix anything. 

he looked up to jisung whose eyes were wide, eyebrows raised in confusion and concern. his voice was raised in pitch as he asked, “is she okay?”

yunho nodded quickly, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed to say she’ll be fine, don’t worry about it. your face hit his chest and he wished he could physically stop his heartbeat from quickening. years of loving you, spending time with you, being close to you, touching you— he always reacted the same. 

chan bounced over, worry in his voice, “hey, hey, hey,” he placed his hand on your back and it took every ounce of strength yunho had to not pull you away, but since chan is your friend, he’d allow it. chan leaned closer, “you okay?” 

you picked your head up to look at him, yunho couldn’t see your face but the look on chan’s told him enough, his eyebrows furrowed even further with worry. “did jisung—”

“no,” you sniffed, “it’s not jisung, just needa go home,” you slurred, shaking your head, “drank too much.” 

chan, who had heard the whole story from san earlier while waiting in line for the bar, looked up to yunho in understanding. for only knowing you a short time, he seemed to know a lot about you. yunho didn’t have the time to dissect the thought. 

yunho lifted his head up, yeosang and san already looking at him, at you, concern living in the crinkle between their eyebrows. yeosang stepped forward and yunho shook his head, knowing you’d be mortified in the morning if this became a bigger deal than it needed to be. 

“you ready to go home?” yunho tipped his chin upward in the direction of his two friends, keeping you tucked under his elbow in front of him. 

san and yeosang nodded silently, he watched as yeosang pecked jeongin goodbye, as san began walking away without another word to chan. for you, they’d do anything, they’d drop anything— it didn’t matter. 

“will you guys be okay getting home?” chan asked yunho, shoulders back, chin tilted up. 

“yeah, you?” yunho answered, already turning on his heel, barely giving chan time to respond. he needed you out of here, out of the crowd, he needed to get you air.

“tell her to call me when she feels better,” chan calls behind you, and san responds, but yunho barely hears him. 

the group of them shuffled through the crowd— why were they so deep in, anyways?— tucked under his left armpit, yunho was basically dragging you through the dirt. you were slumped into his side, mumbling something, feet barely carrying you. he debated putting you on his back. 

“what are you saying, tiny?” yeosang asked, just a step behind you, closer to your ear than yunho was. 

“my jacket,” you said a little louder, strain on your voice, “jisung has it.” a sob leaves your lips and yunho almost smiles, the fact that your jacket was the icing on the cake is so you. even completely done up you stayed unapologetically yourself. 

“should we call ace?” san asked from yunho’s other side, his eyebrows still knitted together. 

“what the hell is ace gonna do?” yunho replied, his tone curt, “let him have his weekend with reia, he doesn’t need to know. tiny will be fine.”

as you got to the outskirts of the crowd, yunho was bending down in front of you, his arms reaching behind him to hoist you onto his back. you were a deadweight, head slumped over his shoulder, arms limp around his neck. he carried you through the venue towards the main entrance without a word. 

you groaned when you finally reached the parking lot, followed by, “yun, i don’t feel good.” 

“ah, fuck,” he muttered under his breath, coming to a stop. “can you wait until we get home?” 

“put me down now,” you said hurriedly, fear apparent in your tone, and yunho bent down right away, standing back up when your sneakers hit the pavement. you crouched down, yeosang had caught it before yunho did— he stood behind you, your hair wrapped into a ponytail in yeosang’s fist as you emptied the contents of your stomach where yunho had just been standing. 

the four of you didn’t say another word until you were five minutes away from your house, the drive spent in silence— you’d spent it with your head halfway out the window, your sunglasses halfway down your nose, eyes shut. if it weren’t for the tears that streamed down your face every now and then, yunho would’ve assumed you were already knocked out.

“should i call him?” you asked the car, everyone already knew who, eyes still closed as you sat back in the cushioned seat. “i miss him, jisung was nothing like him. i wish he was there.”  

yunho was lucky you couldn’t see him— he physically winced at your drunken words. san eyed him from the passenger seat, but he paid his friend no mind. 

“we’ll talk about it tomorrow, teens,” yeosang said calmly from the backseat, sitting close to your side, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. yunho watched as you laid your head on him, you didn’t answer him— maybe you fell asleep. he hoped you did. 

san carried you inside your house bridal style and laid you on your unmade bed, but yeosang was the one who had dressed you for bed. it became his responsibility the few times he’s had to do it— an unspoken rule amongst you. 

after a hot shower, yunho decided to check on you once more before heading to the guest room for bed. you were sitting over the side of your bed, eyes closed, chugging water from the bottle he’d placed on your nightstand. he only peeked his head in, but you caught him. 

“yunho?” you asked weakly, your voice small. 

he cursed under his breath, but he inched forward, coming into view. he looked around, clothes were strewn about your floor, clothes hanging out of the hamper— he didn’t realize until then how upset you really were. “you okay, teens?” 

you mumbled a mhm then laid back on your sheets, head falling onto your pillows. you turned your head to look at him, eyes crescents, “why can’t i find anyone that’s good for me?”

yunho sighed and walked forward, sitting at the edge of your bed. “you will.” 

“kissing jisung didn’t make me feel any better about mingyu,” you paused, yunho didn’t know if you’d continue. your lip trembled, “he was good for me.” 

yunho pulled his lips into a line— as much as he hated hearing it, if that's how you felt, he wouldn’t argue with you anymore. “why don’t you try calling him tomorrow?”

you whined, then closed your eyes, pulling your duvet over your body, up to your neck. “i’m tired of being mad at you.” 

yunho smiles at that— “i’m sorry i made you mad at me.” 

“will you stay with me tonight?” 

yunho’s eyes shoot open, his lips parting, his mind running a mile a minute. “what?”

“please,” you opened your eyes a little wider, they were still glassy— he was scared you might cry again if he said no, not that he wanted to say no. 

he couldn’t ask why, he couldn’t ask any questions at all. as you pulled up the corner of your duvet, in his tee shirt, all he could muster was “okay.” 

that was a lot, if ur still here i love u. tell me how u feel so i don't lose my mind pls

8fd masterlist | main masterlist

tags: @chimivx @emmxxsworld @alisonyus @livixcore @skzswife @dawn-iscozy @yusalterego @velvetring00 @minvxq @moonlightgrleric

[darlingdaisyfarm]

I remember on ao3 you mentioned you wanted to post Stan and Ford reacting to readers death, I wanted to ask if you could share it please?<3

grief wears your name | Stan and Ford react to reader's death

Grief hits everyone differently and the Pines family is no exception. Old men arent supposed to outlive you

a/n: certainly! thank u for reminding me, tw: death

Stanley

you'd think that a man who’s been through as much as Stan Pines would’ve learned how to process grief by now. but the thing about Stan is, he doesn’t process it, not really. he pushes it down so deep that even he forgets it’s there, until it sneaks up and slams him flat on his ass.

fuck that, fuck everything, fuck this world

hell, he wasn’t supposed to outlive you. not you. not with all the shit he’d done to his body over the years, the cigarettes, the cheap booze, the sleepless nights every time he looked in the mirror. it was supposed to be him first. the old man with bad habits and a lifetime of regrets weighing him down. that was the deal, wasn’t it? you're too young, bright, stubborn, alive, you were supposed to outlast him. supposed to be there when his time came, rolling your eyes at his dramatics and holding his hand as he went. that’s how it was supposed to go, fucking fuck

he got the call from someone he didn’t recognize. a voice muttered words he couldn’t make sense of. your name. your fucking name. his ears rang, his head spun and his fingers gripped the receiver tightly

“what the fuck do you mean, gone?” the person on the other end tried to explain, but Stanley slammed the phone back onto the hook before they could finish. no. no.

you couldn’t be gone.

he saw you last week. he watched you smile at him across the counter, teasing him about his fez like you always did. he swore you winked at him before you left.

and now you were just. . . what? erased from existence?

grief had a way of making him ugly, uglier than he already saw himself. his hands shook as if he’d been drinking all night, but the bottle on the table was full and untouched. even the burn of whiskey couldn’t numb this, so what was the point?

Stanley thought about the kitten he’d brought home when he was ten. it was starving, ribs like piano keys beneath its dirty fur, the meows little animal let out were so pitiful. he'd sworn he’d take care of it, even made a little bed out of an old shoebox and named it tiger. he fed it milk behind his dad's back. tiger died three days later.

Stan felt useless, he couldn’t save anyone.

Stan hasn’t touched the fez since you died. it’s sitting there on the bedside table, gathering dust. you used to steal it all the time, yanking it off his head with a grin. “this thing’s ridiculous, Stan,” you’d tease, shoving it onto your head crookedly. “i’m the boss of scam now. bow to me.” and he always played along, rolling his eyes, calling you a pain in the ass, but you only laughed at that. that laughter was gone.

when Mabel asked him about you last night, he had to get up and leave the room because he wasn't ready for that. she was just a kid, trying to understand why the world was so unfair and he couldn’t give her an answer because he didn’t have one.

“grunkle Stan? do you think. . . do you think they’re still watching over us?” how could he tell her he didn’t believe in anything like that anymore? that you were just gone, snuffed out, like you’d never been here at all?

Mabel’s curled in his lap like she’s five again, clutching her sweater-covered arms around her knees, her face a swollen mess of tears and hiccupping sobs. her little voice is hoarse from crying and she tries to explain, through broken words, about the stupid sweater she’d been knitting for you. she just finished it. it was supposed to be a surprise. she was going to give it to you tomorrow.

Stan wraps his arms around her, calls her “pumpkin” in the softest voice he can manage, but it trembles. he squeezes his eyes shut so hard it makes his head hurt, he hopes if he can just keep them closed tight enough, none of this will be real. but it is. it fucking is. and he doesn’t know how to tell a twelve-year-old that the world is this fucking cruel. he doesn’t know how to admit he feels like that little boy again, the one with a kitten dying in his hands and nothing he could do to stop it.

he buries his face in Mabel’s brown hair and mutters some useless lie about how “it’s gonna be okay”

Mabel's face against his chest as she sobbed. Stan held her tighter.

“i made them a sweater, grunkle Stan. i-it’s pink with little stars and they- they said they'd wear it when it got cold,” her sobs swallowed the rest.

what could he say to that? what the hell could anyone say? “they loved your sweaters, kiddo. you know they did.” he wanted to picture you in that dumb pink sweater, smiling like you always did when you wanted to make Mabel feel special. but all he could see was you gone. gone. and nothing he could do would change it

Stanford

when he got the news about you, his meticulously constructed walls crumbled in an instant.

he sat at his desk, the journal open in front of him, its pages blurred by the tears he didn’t realize were falling. his hands shook as he gripped the pen, but the words just wouldn’t come.

he’d been taught from an early age that emotions were illogical. when he was younger, his father had told him to “quit being such a baby” after Ford cried over a broken model ship. that lesson had stuck

he locked himself in his study, the same place he’d last seen you. everything was still exactly where it had been. the chair you’d sat in. the pen you’d picked up and fiddled with while listening to him ramble. he’d always been embarrassed by how much he talked around you, because words came so easily when you were there.

the guilt was eating him from inside

was it his fault?

had he been too focused on his work, too distracted to notice that something was wrong? had he missed a chance to save you?

he needed answers. needed to know. what had happened? why had it happened?

he buried himself in research, poring over every detail of the accident or the incident, as he came to call it. his obsession grew, consuming him. he didn’t sleep. didn’t eat.

Stan found him one night, hunched over the desk, muttering to himself about alternate dimensions and cosmic energy. “Ford, this isn’t gonna bring them back.”

Ford didn’t respond because Stan was wrong.

Ford wasn’t trying to bring you back. he was trying to rewrite the universe so you’d never been gone in the first place

Dipper tries to talk to him one day, pulling at the hem of his vest clumsily. “grunkle Ford, is it okay to miss someone this much? like. . .this much that it hurts? my chest hurts.”

Stanford doesn’t know how to answer that. he doesn’t know how to explain the way grief wraps itself around your lungs and makes it impossible to breathe. “it is, Mason, it means they mattered.”

Dipper doesn’t see how Ford presses his hands to his temples when he leaves.

Ford’s always been good at pretending he’s fine.

Ford’s grief was quieter, but no less consuming. the guilt, the helplessness, the horrible emptiness that stretched wider every time he thought about how he’d failed to protect you.

he couldn’t stop thinking about all the times you’d parodied him, mimicking the way he pushed his glasses up his nose or how he’d say “actually” before correcting someone. “actually, Stanford Pines, you’re so predictable,” you’d giggle, tapping the bridge of your nose in a mocking gesture

you used to drive him insane with it, in good way. his face would flush, his words would stumble, and he’d act all huffy while secretly loving every second. he never told you how much he adored the way you made fun of him

he found one of your notebooks the other day. it was tucked under a pile of his old research papers, pages scrawled with your handwriting. you’d doodled little caricatures of him in the margins, stick-figure versions of Ford with six fingers and exaggerated glasses, accompanied by sarcastic captions like, “the nerdiest but prettiest man i ever knew”

he stared at those drawings until his vision blurred from tears. then he shoved the notebook in a drawer and locked it.

...

Ford disappears the next morning.

he knows it’s selfish, leaving Stan and the kids to deal with all of this without him, a part of family, but he can’t be in that house another second. the walls are suffocating. so he grabbed his coat, your coat, the one you used to borrow when you’d say his was warmer and walked, his feet already knew where they’re going.

the woods. the same path you always loved, where the sunlight filtered through the trees beautifully, where you used to point out birds or mushrooms or anything that caught your curious eye. you’d tug on his sleeve to make him stop and look. and god, you were so beautiful when you smiled at him like that. Ford adored you.

Ford doesn’t remember sitting down in the clearing where you used to spend time together, his knees in the dirt, fists clenched in the grass. he hadn’t cried when he found out, hadn’t even let himself feel it because there were too many faces looking at him like he was supposed to have answers. now there’s nothing but the woods, only memory of you and the sound of his own ragged breathing breaking into loud sobs

Ford cries like a child. raw, aching grief pouring out of him in waves, making his glasses fog up, slipping down his nose and he doesn’t bother fixing them. his body doesn’t know how to process this kind of pain. his hands too busy clawing at the ground, hoping he could dig deep enough to find you again.

Ford Pines, the man who always thought he could think his way out of anything, is completely unmade.

he doesn’t know how long he sits there, crumpled against the base of a tree. his hands tremble as he takes the notebook out of his coat pocket, the one he used to write down little things you’d say or do that he didn’t want to forget. he flips through it now, pages ruined with his tears and it hurts worse than anything else. your handwriting’s there, little notes you’d leave for him.

“don’t forget your glasses!”

“your hair looks cute today <3”

“i love you, Ford.”

he shuts the notebook and presses it to his chest, it's the only part of you he has left.

the stars above didn’t care. the trees didn’t care. the world kept turning, indifferent to the fact that you’d been torn from it.

and Ford was left there in the cold void, feeling smaller than he ever had in his life.

[averyfuckingtiredyounglady]

What kind of crush would SKZ be??

Ot8 x gn reader

This is like what vibe they give off to me/scenarios i can imagine them in

(Wow no smut this time)

BANG CHAN

close but not close enough

Chan is someone you always saw around. You lived in the same neighborhood and rode the school bus together. However, he was two years older than you and you never took classes with him or had much reason to talk to him at all but boy did you have a big fat stinking crush on him. You just did. If all he did was look your way or if he GREETED you?? It was the highlight of your day. Once he gave you back a pencil that you dropped.. you had kept it since.. Eventually chan ended up moving away and you never saw him again, you soon forgot about your little crush… until he came back home to visit…

LEE KNOW

classmate crush

Lee Know sits in front of you in class. He pretty much keeps to himself and he has a small group of friends. He’s known to have a dry personality but you cant help but notice his cute little quirks. His phone case with the pictures of his cats, the ugly face hes always doodling in his notebook and passing in notes to his friends. You dont have any friends in this class so you dont have anything better to do but stare at his back just wanting to reach out and tap him on the shoulder and say hi.. or anything… but something makes you feel like itll be too awkward so you never do. Miraculously, one day in the hall you hear him from behind you whisper yelling your name “hey! Y/n!” But when you turn to face him you notice hes unable to meet your eyes. “Hey umm.. i dont know if anyone else told you, but… you have toilet paper stuck to your shoe.”

CHANGBIN

the already taken

Changbin is your friend’s boyfriend… and you like him a lot… like.. a lot a lot.. Oops. Well… YOU LIKED HIM FIRST.. but he liked her more… at least you’re pretty sure he does. You never told anyone about your little crush so you can’t blame anyone but yourself. So whenever you see them kissing, holding hands, or, lord help you, whenever youre third wheeling while hanging out with them, you want to beat yourself unconscious with the nearest heavy object.

HYUNJIN

Love at first sight, beautiful stranger

On any standard day at work you come across some attractive people of course, but sometimes you see someone and it just… hits different. And you CANT stop staring at this one customer… like what the fuck?? They make em like this??? Holy shit… and you know youre staring but youre like… in shock.. he clearly just came from working out or something because he has a light sheen of sweat.. he just looks kinda wet… all over… but its hot??? You watch him disappear into one aisle after the next while hes doing his shopping and suddenly youre imagining your first date. Youre checking out the customer in front of you but youre still thinking about him… by the time youve married him in your imagination, hes finished shopping and coming toward the registers and youre holding your breath thinking “please dont come to me. Please dont come to me.. pleeeasse dont fucking come to my fucking register!!!” Aaaanndd there he is.

Han

Friendzoned

Han is so full of shit… he won’t date you because you’re “too good for him”. What a crock of horse shit… You wish you’d never confessed and right now you’re at a restaurant and he’s talking to you about god knows what. You see his mouth moving but you’re consumed with your thoughts, replaying the conversation in your head when he friendzoned you like its a fucking snuff film… and what in god’s name is he yapping on about? “Y/N! Are you listening? Can i have some of your fries?”

FELIX

Childhood friend

Everyone loves Felix.. That’s what you tell yourself. Your feelings are normal. The feeling that you would kill to see him smile… Come oooon. Its Felix. Who wouldnt??? Yeah, you get angry when you see him getting close to other friends and yeah you don’t like sharing his company with anyone else.. You’ve known him practically since birth. Being with Felix is like returning home. If nostalgia was a person. it’s only natural to have an attachment right? You know him better than anyone else and nothing can threaten the bond you two have. Yep. You and Felix are just a couple of BFFs. Nothing less… nothing more.

TO BE CONTINUED (i got tired lol)

Seungmin

Dense crush

IN

Too young for me… but?

[nonranghaes]

heads up: panic attack. vent for writer.

jisung knows how to take care of you now. he shuts your laptop, setting it aside as he quickly books it to the fridge and back to push a cold water bottle into your hands. you're getting overwhelmed, rambling up a storm about an assignment you did that now looks like you copied someone else who had the same idea. he tells you that it happens, that its normal, and to just email your professor about it... but he knows you. he knows himself. sometimes little things feel too big to handle, and they blow up like this. he holds his hands over your own, thumbs tracing alongside the inside of your wrists.

"it's okay," he says, keeping his voice as calm as he can. "it's gonna be okay. it's early enough. you haven't done any work yet. if she wants you to change it, it'll be okay. you're going to be fine."

you sniffle, tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggle to breathe as your chest grows tighter. you're babbling all over again: what if what if what if she gets mad at you what if she hasn't graded your assignment because she reached out to your advisors who's on vacation what if you're in the process of getting in major trouble for a misunderstanding and you just don't know it yet?

he kisses your forehead, gentle as can be, and his hands slide up to your biceps. "honey. i promise, it's going to be okay."

the water bottle slips from your hands, hitting the floor and rolling away as you move in to hold him. you squeeze your eyes shut, breathing growing more rapid as you try to hide. from what, you don't even know, but you bury your face in his chest and grab fistfuls of the back of his shirt. he embraces you, tracing circles on your back as you sob.

"it's okay," he says again. "just get it out..."

and you do. you sob into his shirt, losing yourself for a minute. two, five. you lose track. but you pull away, breathing a little more even, face stained with tears. and you meet his eyes after a moment, sniffling still.

"'m sorry..." you wipe at your face with your sleeve. "'m overreacting again--"

"it's okay," he cups your cheeks. "i'd panic, too. would i be overreacting?"

he knows the answer is yes. but he knows you'll say no, just because neither of you downplay each other's feelings in the moment even if you do sometimes laugh over the stupid things later on. he kisses your forehead again, wiping away some of your tears with his thumbs. he reaches down, scooping up the water bottle and offering it to you again. without a word, you accept it, twisting off the cap and taking a long sip of it before passing it back to him.

"better?" he says quietly. and when you nod, he sighs in relief. "i think... before you do your next assignment... we should do something silly."

you nod, and then reach for your laptop. "after i email her. will you--"

"yes." he kisses your cheek, always on the same wavelength as you when it comes to moments like these. "i'll read it before you send it. do you want a snack?" he stands, stretching, already ready to hunt in the kitchen for whatever will make you smile the most. "i'll grab us some snacks."

"yes, please." you open up your email, and wait a moment before turning to watch him go. "i love you."

he beams as he spins to face you one last time now, already making a heart with his arms, just to hear you laugh a little at him being silly for you. "i love you more!"

[dulcescorderitas]

hiiiii! i hope you’re doing great 🩷 i was wondering if u could write about dean and/or winchester (it could be romantic or platonically), and reader, despite being a highly skilled hunter as them, she/he/them have a extensive skincare routine 🧖🏿‍♀️ and tons of products and also has candles 🕯️ to aromatize whatever hotel room they’re staying in? maybe i’m a little biased bc it’s something i would def do lol 💅🏿 of course it’s up to u to write it or not xx

author's note: hope you like it!

the tiny hotel room buzzed with its usual chaos—sam hammering at his laptop, dean fiddling with the radio until static gave way to a gravelly classic rock station. you, meanwhile, had claimed the bed nearest the window, methodically unpacking your arsenal of serums, creams, and candles from a sleek black case. the clash of your indulgent habits with the winchesters’ bare-bones lifestyle was a contradiction you’d long since stopped noticing, but tonight, it seemed to hold their attention.

“are we setting up a séance, or did bath & body works have a blowout sale?” dean asked, smirking as he leaned in the doorway, arms crossed over his leather jacket.

sam glanced up from his laptop, raising an eyebrow but wisely staying silent.

“keep it up,” you deadpanned, lighting a lavender candle with a practiced flick of your lighter. “i can always start charging you both for the free aromatherapy.”

the soft glow spilled across the scratched furniture and faded wallpaper, the soothing scent instantly cutting through the motel musk. dean’s smirk lingered, though his nose wrinkled faintly when you spritzed rose water over your face.

“you’re telling me you haul this crap around on every hunt?” he asked, waving at the array of tiny jars and bottles now lined up on the nightstand.

“it’s called self-care, dean,” you replied without missing a beat. “you should try it sometime. your skin looks like it’s fighting for its life.”

“she’s not wrong,” sam chimed in, earning a glare from his brother. “and for the record, the room already smells better.”

“traitor,” dean muttered, but his eyes drifted back to the candle, then the jade roller you’d just pulled out. “what the hell is that thing?”

“a jade roller,” you said, voice deliberately sweet. “it helps with lymphatic drainage.”

“sounds fake,” he grumbled, though his gaze didn’t waver.

you took your time, smoothing a honey-oat cleansing balm over your skin with deliberate, indulgent motions. sam watched with barely-concealed interest, while dean lounged on the bed’s edge, boots off but still visibly torn between curiosity and skepticism.

“so what, all this actually works?” dean asked, the words reluctant but edged with intrigue.

“why? you want to try?” you baited, not looking up.

“hell no,” he said immediately, but his resolve was already cracking. sam, ever the voice of reason, set his laptop aside.

“i mean, it wouldn’t hurt, right? maybe we wouldn’t look like we’ve been living out of a car for a decade.”

dean groaned, but he didn’t argue when you tossed a washcloth at him. “fine,” you said, grinning as sam caught the second one. “sit your asses down, and let me show you how it’s done.”

sam caved first, obediently following your instructions as you handed him a bottle of cleanser. dean stayed where he was, arms crossed, until you pointedly ignored him in favor of complimenting sam’s technique.

“all right, fine,” he huffed, shuffling over. “hit me with your witch potions or whatever. but if i break out, you’re paying for it.”

“deal,” you said, fighting back a laugh as you handed him the balm. “start with this. rub it in—don’t forget your neck.”

watching dean winchester awkwardly smear product across his face was a moment you’d treasure forever. sam, already mid-toner, stifled a laugh. “you’re doing great, dean.”

“shut up,” dean muttered, his tone lacking any real heat. the faint twitch of a smile betrayed him.

by the time you broke out the sheet masks, all three of you were seated on the beds, faces glistening under the candlelight. the room smelled like lavender and chamomile, its usual harshness replaced with warmth and calm. dean grumbled about how “fucking weird” the mask felt, but he didn’t take it off. sam, predictably, leaned into the experience, asking questions about ingredients until dean threw a pillow at him.

“admit it,” you teased, leaning back with a smug grin. “you feel better.”

neither of them answered, but the way dean’s shoulders relaxed and sam’s lips curved into a rare, soft smile told you everything you needed to know.

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis

[cheeseatlantic]

oh yeah 64 followers ily all (ONE QHOLE MINECRAFT STACK OF YOU GUYS???) guh its snowy here so ive come to feed you once more

note this is a draft im clearing this stuff out cause why not lmao

SNOWBOUND

The snowstorm had hit harder than expected, trapping you and the infamous Simon “Ghost” Riley inside your little cabin for the day. The fireplace crackled, casting a warm glow across the room, but your focus was fixed on the icy world beyond the window.

Simon, however, was focused on you.

“You’ve been staring outside for ages,” he said from behind, his voice teasingly gruff. “What’s so fascinating about frozen water?”

You turned to him with a grin. “I’m trying to figure out how to convince you to come play in it with me.”

“Play?” He tilted his head, amused. “What are we, five?”

“Oh, come on!” you said, grabbing his hand and tugging. “Don’t act like you’ve never built a snowman.”

He didn’t budge, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “You forget who you’re talking to. Snowman-building wasn’t exactly part of my training.”

“Well, it’s part of mine,” you shot back, already pulling on your boots and tossing his coat at him. “You’re coming with me whether you like it or not.”

Moments later, you were out in the snow, your breath visible in the crisp air as you tried to roll the base of the snowman. Simon stood nearby, hands shoved in his pockets, watching with a mix of amusement and bewilderment.

“You’re supposed to help,” you huffed, struggling to push the growing snowball.

He raised an eyebrow. “Looks like you’ve got it handled.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Fine. If you’re not gonna help, you’re gonna—” You scooped up a handful of snow and chucked it at him.

The snowball hit his shoulder with a satisfying thwack. For a moment, Simon just stood there, staring at the offending white fluff as if it had personally insulted him.

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he bent down, packed a snowball, and hurled it right at you.

“Simon!” you shrieked, laughing as you ducked and grabbed another handful of snow.

The next twenty minutes were pure chaos—snowballs flying back and forth, laughter echoing through the empty woods, and Simon showing surprising accuracy with his throws. By the end, you were both breathless, cheeks flushed, and Simon had a rare, boyish grin on his face.

As you both collapsed into the snow, staring up at the grey sky, Simon nudged your shoulder with his. “Alright,” he said, his voice softer now. “Maybe snow’s not so bad.”

You turned your head to look at him, snowflakes catching in his lashes. “Told you so.”

He chuckled, low and warm, and reached over to brush a stray flake from your cheek. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

And when he leaned closer, his lips brushing yours, as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, instantly warming you up. The snowstorm didn’t seem so cold anymore.

why did my writing improve so much bruh dawgs

[arias-diaryy]

Soft Underbelly

Nobunaga Hazama x Reader

Synopsis: The samurai has pride in keeping his prize safe (despite how terribly he’s doing it).

Warnings: yandere, fem reader, mentioned physical abuse.

3.4k words ... my first fic in a long while, big big big thank you to my beta reader who also came up with the synopsis lmfao

 Under normal circumstances, there would be a back and forth before bath time. 

Nobunaga’s working the third round of shampoo into your hair, grumbling under his breath when he still finds debris in your locks. Considerably less, given all the work he’s put in, but he still finds a stray leaf in your hair. He flicks it out of your head, brows furrowing. There isn’t any water in the tub, he’s just been rinsing you off over and over with the handheld showerhead.

It’s cold, and normally you’d be afforded the luxury of warm water. This time, Nobunaga was more interested in getting you clean rather than waiting for the water to heat up. You’ve been without clothes too many times in his presence to still feel overly embarrassed about it, though that doesn’t mean you’re comfortable about it. Nobunaga is crouched on the ground outside of the bathtub, washing you as if you were a labrador covered in mud. His sleeves still got water on them despite being rolled up to his elbows, and his hair is pulled back into a low ponytail to keep it out of the way. If he’s leered at you, you haven’t noticed. You’ve been desperate to avoid eye contact.

When he holds the showerhead up and over your body, the water runs down clearer than it did the last few times. There was dirt before, being washed away by the soap and pressure of the water. You and Nobunaga both internally cringed when the water ran red the first few times; you even moreso when the soap got into the cuts and scrapes littering your skin. He fussed over them, still does, you don’t expect anything less. Every cut he sees, he clicks his tongue and asks where it came from. “I don’t know” quickly becomes your default answer.

You wonder if he feels any bit vindicated, seeing you with blood and dirt under your nails, and twigs in your hair. All those “the outside world is too much for you” talks replay in your head, and your nails begin to dig into your palms out of frustration.

“Don’t do that.” Nobunaga says sternly, having caught the motion in his peripheral. You’re shaken out of your frustration, uncurling your hands. He’s perceptive enough to catch that, but not enough to realize that you want nothing to do with him? He furrows his brows a little more, his hands still in your hair and lathering it up with the shampoo. It smells like fruit, it smells girly. Juvenile, almost. 

“I’m not doing anything.” Nobunaga doesn’t say anything to you, removing his hands from your hair and grabbing the showerhead again. He makes a point of angling it more towards your face, and you flinch when the cold water hits you like a hard smack. You shut your eyes as the shampoo suds roll off your head and your face. One of his hands returns to your head, tousling up your hair and rinsing the shampoo out of it. The near icy water doesn’t help with your shivering, and you don’t think you’re in any position to be asking for hot water.

“I’m not a dog, I can bathe myself.” You say, halfway under your breath. Nobunaga might have rolled his eyes, but to do that, he’d have to momentarily stop looking at you, something he isn’t keen on doing.  “I didn’t say you were one.” He doesn't address your stewing emotions, no matter how clearly they’re scrawled across your face. You have half the mind not to respond with a snarky comment. 

There’s a pit in your stomach. There’s been one for quite a while. You assumed it was anxiety, but now you think it could also be an ulcer. Sometimes it gets so great that you think there’s really something wrong with you. Sizzling, contorting, creeping its way up into your chest. You felt it most in the first two weeks, and it’s waxed and waned since then. It’s spiked considerably from the moment Nobunaga found you again to now. It isn’t helped by the fact that you were expecting some sort of punishment; a sick retribution from him for trying to leave, and it has yet to come. 

…The fact that your escape lasted less than 6 hours probably has something to do with how he’s behaving. Oh, he’s annoyed, you didn’t need to be told. Though, you suppose he didn’t expend enough effort in finding you to truly be outraged. Nobunaga had found you in the woods behind the house, having yanked you out of the hollowed log you squirmed into. In the moment, it seemed like a good enough hiding spot, once you had the horrifying realization that he wasn’t that far behind you. For all the metaphorical and literal slaps on the wrist you got from him, you can’t be faulted for thinking he’d have more of a reaction to you trying to leave him.

In retrospect, it would have been smarter to travel alongside the road by the house and hitch hike. But wasn’t that too obvious? Nobunaga had been out of the house at the time of your escape, you didn’t know when he would come back. What would you say if the car he stole came driving down the road, and he saw you with your thumb out like a dumbass on the side of the asphalt? Plus, you thought you would’ve had a few days to make some distance. If you knew he’d be coming back tonight, you would’ve waited.

You’re pretty sure your previous comment wasn’t an invitation to conversation, yet Nobunaga begins talking anyway. “I can’t believe you, the one thing I told you not to do,” he chides. “and you didn’t even make it that far.” Nobunaga says it with a bit of humor, as if underneath his irritation, he finds this a little funny. Of course he does. Your hair feels like rubber with how much shampoo has been in it, and you despair internally when Nobunaga goes to put another dollop of it into your hair. “You’re lucky I found you before you got seriously hurt.” He scolds, roughy lathering the shampoo into your scalp one last time for good measure.

Despite it all, he’s still acting too flippant for your liking, you had expected him to… well, you aren’t sure. You’ve been on edge since before you even ran away, waiting for the eventual blow. Sure, he’s raised his voice at you and dragged you the whole way home, but you were still waiting for the worst of it. You thought he’d show his anger more, you did escape after all. The one thing he specifically forbade you to do.

(He also forbade you from locking doors and going near the stove without his supervision, but actually getting out of the house and making a break for it seemed more serious than any of the others). 

You shut your eyes to keep shampoo from entering them, but it’s too late. They sting almost immediately and you let out a small hiss of pain. So much for tear free. Nobunaga leans closer, pausing in his lecturing. “Are you crying?” He asks in a less stern tone of voice. “No!” You say, but you doubt he believes you. After all, you are tearing up. You blink a few times, and there’s tears in your eyes, which are now red and irritated. Nobunaga brings his hand closer to wipe your tears away, and you flinch. He grabs your upper arm to keep you in place, and you tense up more than you knew possible.

“Are you sure?” He asks again, and you don’t like the way he’s saying it. He’s talking to you like you’re a kid who got caught in a lie. “You got shampoo in my eyes!” “Uh huh.” Nobunaga hums, disregarding your declaration and wiping your tears away with his free hand. Your eyes are really red, he thinks. Maybe a drop of shampoo did get in them, though he remains unconvinced that you aren’t at least a little regretful for trying to run away from him. You aren’t that heartless. You go to rub at your eyes, and Nobunaga grabs your wrist to stop you. You flinch again, and he clicks his tongue in irritation.

“Would you stop being difficult?” Nobunaga says, taking a firmer grasp of your wrist to emphasize his point. “I’m not being difficult.” “You are, you’re acting like I’m going to hit you.” “Are you?” You ask, and Nobunaga only looks at you like you’re challenging him. “Should I?” 

You take a moment to respond. You can’t think of a smart answer, and although none of them feel outright wrong, none of them exactly feel right, either. “If I were you, I’d hit me.” It’s not a lie, if you were just half as deranged as Nobunaga, you probably would hit yourself. Nobunaga pauses for a moment, then laughs. As if it was some punchline to a joke. You aren’t as unsettled as you are relieved that he didn’t actually put his hands on you. At least he found it funny?

If you were him, you wouldn’t have deemed yourself worth the trouble. You would have gotten rid of yourself a long time ago, replaced yourself with another woman. One that looks similar enough to you, if appearances mattered. Yet everytime you would correct him, insist that you weren’t his girlfriend or anything of the sort, he’d wave you off and go on with whatever he was doing. You aren’t sure what he sees in you, it’s never stuck, no matter how many times he’s said it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that.” Nobunaga finally says. “I already said before, I don’t want to hurt you.” You want to roll your eyes. He’s the one who brought the topic up. Sure, it’s not like he ever punched you in the jaw or anything, but he has a knack for manhandling you every now and then. Nobunaga keeps on talking, not that you had a reply or anything further to add to the conversation. He’s back to being stern with you. “Don’t think you’re off the hook yet. I’m still mad at you. What you did was stupid.” “I know.” You mumble, avoiding his harsh glare.

“You’re not going to do it again.” He says, more firmly this time. With the same lack of energy, you reply “I won’t”. Nobunaga looks like he has more to say, but stays quiet. A distinct smell of smoke and burning food wafts through the hallway and into the bathroom. The food Nobunaga tossed into the oven an hour ago… 

He curses under his breath, his eyes going from the hallway to you. “Stay here.” He says, rising to his feet and leaving you in the bathtub alone, still with shampoo in your hair. You take it that it’ll take him a while to salvage dinner, so you take it upon yourself to finish your bath. You make sure to twist the shower handle to warmer water before taking the showerhead to get the shampoo out of your hair and eyes. The pit in your stomach hasn’t gone away, and the prospect of charred food for dinner isn’t easening your pain. You hadn’t spent long enough outside to be that hungry for Nobunaga’s culinary prowess, or lack thereof. 

-

There was zero chance of Nobunaga scrapping dinner to just order takeout. In fact, that chance most likely plummeted to the negatives given the stunt you pulled earlier in the day. Still, dinner wasn’t a total waste. You could eat around the burnt pieces of chicken, which were few and far between. The rice was stickier than you would’ve liked. You doubt Nobunaga would be letting you handle the cooking for a while, it’s practically a given that certain privileges would be rescinded. Temporarily, you hope, but rescinded nontheless. 

At least the vegetables came out fine.

Nobunaga sits down at the foot of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He looks over at you, laying flat on your back in bed with the blanket covering you. Your feet poke out from under the covers. Soft and warm, scratches on your soles. There’s a cut on the bottom of your left foot; it looks more like a thin slice of flesh was scraped clean off. Nobunaga can’t take his eyes off of it. He knows it’ll heal, but he can only run through all the different ways you garnered that injury.

He stares at your foot in his hand, brows furrowed. A sliver of him was impressed, perhaps a little endeared, that you were still clinging to this idea of not needing him. It was almost laughable, even more so given the state you were in when Nobunaga found you. Cold, exhausted, and hungry, you had somehow gotten two of your fingernails ripped off in the short time you were away from him. All that, and you had the gall to look at him as if he was somehow inconveniencing you by bringing you back home. You’d even tried to bite and scratch at him like some animal.

You really could be an ungrateful brat, sometimes. Maybe you were onto something about him hitting you. 

If anything, he’s only more convinced of how pathetic you are. Endearingly so, but pathetic nonetheless. You deserve an achievement for managing to scratch yourself up so much in a few short hours without him, truth be told. Not that he enjoys seeing the cuts on your body, but he does consider himself a little bit smart for not letting you have shoes of any kind, even ones for inside the house. You probably would have gotten much farther if you weren’t out there with just some thin socks.

Nobunaga shifts a little closer, gingerly taking your left ankle and foot in his hands. The foot with the nasty cut on the bottom. He didn’t want you picking at it or even looking at it, so he’d made sure to bandage it properly. If you were awake, you’d jolt like a spooked animal and try to kick at him. Though he’d always known you as a light sleeper, you don’t even stir when Nobunaga touches you. That’s good, he thinks. You need the rest. All that scrambling in the forest probably took out all of your energy.

Even looking at your sleeping face now, it’s hard for the samurai to imagine that just hours ago you were shrieking at him to let you go, to not bring you back home. He’d spent almost an hour painstakingly removing every splinter of wood caught in your feet and hands; all while you were squirming and trying not to kick at him reflexively. Another hour was spent getting the rest of you cleaned up. It’s almost like you’d prefer being out in the cold than being kept warm and safe with him. It’s so preposterous, he could almost laugh at the thought.

…Though, he can’t pinpoint any other reason for you acting out. Unless that’s just what it was, misbehavior for the sake of it. Maybe you wanted more attention? That seemed plausible to Nobunaga. He can’t imagine that you’re thrilled when he leaves your side to go on Troupe missions. When he returned, it was always to you looking miserable, only cheering up now that he returned to you.

(It was because he had a tendency to lock up the television remote in his absence to keep you from watching something he didn’t want you seeing, and the fridge almost never seemed to be stocked with actual food before he left you in your lonesome. He still hadn’t connected the dots).

(...Though the prolonged lack of human interaction did do a number on you, as well).

He knows that to some degree, this is his fault. He’s been too lenient with you, too soft. Uvo had made a passing comment once that it’d do him some good to instill some fear into you. Just a little, to keep you from misbehaving. Nobunaga let you talk back and maintain some independence, and you turn around and try to run away from him.

He gave you an inch and you tried to take a mile. If your ploy was really to get more of his attention, then you’d succeeded. Nobunaga can’t imagine not keeping a closer eye on you for the coming months. That, and he’d finally get around to putting some bars on the windows. His gaze lingers on you, on your foot resting in his lap. He wonders if you know how lucky you are, that it’s him who’s keeping you safe and not any other Troupe member. Someone like Feitan surely would’ve killed you, or at least made you wish you were dead. 

Nobunaga isn’t keen on taking a page out of Feitan’s book, though. He was generally averse to the idea of making you upset. He didn’t consider himself to be a bad man, one who hurts his woman. Sure, he’s killed more people than he can count and took great joy in it. He’s maimed women and children, and robbed people of all they had, all for the Spider. But that was different. It’s impersonal, and half of those people more or less deserved it anyway. Probably. Regardless, you escaping and making a run for it isn’t something he can brush under the rug, even if you totally failed.

A hot-head like Phinks, or even Uvo, would’ve broken your leg. Perhaps a bit excessive, you hadn’t made it far enough to warrant that in Nobunaga’s eyes. It’s like a part of you subconsciously didn’t want to go so far away. Like you wanted to be found. If you really hated him so much that you’d try to run away, surely you would’ve put some more effort into it. 

He could always just break your ankle, maybe both. Crude, brutish, almost, but that would get the point across. It wouldn’t be hard by any means. A flick of the wrist and it’d be done. Maybe he could wake you up before he does it, make you squirm a little. Perhaps you’d feel a fraction of the panic Nobunaga felt when he couldn’t find you anywhere; when he realized you’d ran away from him. 

The aftermath might be a little messy, but at least you wouldn’t be running away again. He could keep you like that for a few days, maybe you’d learn some appreciation then. It’d take Machi a while to get to his house anyway to fix you up properly. Maybe he wouldn’t even need her. You’d cry a lot, he’s sure. 

“What are you doing?”

Your voice, tired and having lost it’s previous bite, draws Nobunaga out of his thoughts. You’re still laying flat in bed, looking at him with your foot in his lap. You tense up, and he doesn’t miss the brief change in expression. You’re uncomfortable, and the man chalks it up to you being ticklish or something along those likes. Not that you ever claimed to be, but you always shyed away from his touch, always bit the inside of your cheek when he got close. Tensed up when his fingers brushed up against your neck or shoulders. It was cute.

Nobunaga doesn’t answer you right away, his thumb idly rubbing the skin of your ankle. It’s almost a soothing gesture. “Nothing, go back to sleep.” You retract your foot, and he lets you. He circles the bed, coming to the other side and getting in with you. You tense up, feeling Nobunaga slide in right next to you. You don’t move away, not that you had a chance to. Nobunaga presses himself against you, his arms wrapping around you.

You wince, being overwhelmed with his scent. In your brief time away from him, you’d enjoyed the smell of dirt and grass, and the wind hitting your skin. All things you never thought about too much, now feeling like luxuries. Your head is pushed into the crook of his neck, and the rest of you is too sore to do much about it. You suppose, if anything, that being in a warm bed is better than crawling into a log and trying to pretend the ants don’t bother you.

“You know I love you, right?” It’s something you’ve heard from him more times than you care to admit. You don’t say anything, only humming in acknowledgment. That isn’t enough, you know by now that he always wants an answer when he says he loves you. It sounds all too sincere, which ironically is the reason you hate hearing it. When he doesn’t hear a response, Nobunaga pinches your upper arm. So, to soften the blow of whatever’s in store for you tomorrow, you tell him what he wants to hear.

“I love you too.”