#u win a kiss on the cheek if you can guess what pairing

[stressedanime]

this one pairing's tag is in shambles. surely me and my 184402384 wip's will be strong enough to save it

[2amriize]

.ᐟ RIIZE scenario: babysitting ༉‧₊˚.

req: can u do babysitting with riize members? like babysitting a little cousin or something along the lines of that i guess? anton and eunseok with those kids makes me ☹️ it’s so cute!!!!!

pairing: bf!riize x reader —masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro

Shotaro had never taken care of such a small child before. At first, he wouldn’t really know what to do and would get a little (okay, very) nervous, letting out constant nervous laughs while asking every five seconds: “What should we do now?” After watching you struggle for a while trying to get the child to stop crying, he’d step in to help. He’d start making funny faces, quickly getting the child to laugh. You were surprised by how fast he managed it and how well they seemed to get along.

⭑.ᐟ eunseok

Even though you didn’t expect it from him, Eunseok is actually really good at babysitting. It’s probably because he has a younger sibling and a lot of experience with them. You couldn’t stop staring at him every time he played with the child, carried them, or soothed them—which, for some reason, he was particularly good at.

"I thought you already knew I’m good at everything."

⭑.ᐟ sungchan

He wouldn’t stop smiling and watching the child. Every little thing the kid did would make him grin. To keep everyone entertained, you decided to bake cookies together, but Sungchan got distracted for a moment and spilled the entire mixture on the floor. You didn’t expect that, seconds later, after a brief silence, the three of you would be starting a food fight, laughing uncontrollably.

"Just so you know, you’re cleaning this up, babe," you’d whisper in Sungchan’s ear once the chaos was over.

⭑.ᐟ wonbin

It would be pure chaos. Even though Wonbin finds little kids adorable, he has no idea how to interact with them. He wouldn’t know what to talk about or how to keep them entertained, but he’d keep trying new things to grab their attention, even attempting to teach them how to dance. That said, if the child started crying, you wouldn’t find him anywhere near.

"That’s all you," he’d say, pointing at you.

⭑.ᐟ seunghan

Things would start off pretty smoothly, but you knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to leave them alone. You’d only be gone for three minutes to use the bathroom, but when you returned, Seunghan and the child would have completely turned the living room upside down. Cushions and blankets would be scattered everywhere. According to Seunghan, he’d built an obstacle course to see who could complete it faster (and of course, he’d let the kid win).

⭑.ᐟ sohee

You’d spent the entire afternoon playing with the child, and it had been challenging for both of you since it was your first time babysitting. When bedtime rolled around, the child refused to go to bed no matter how much you insisted. That’s when Sohee came up with the idea to tell them a story and sing a lullaby. You were amazed at how quickly Sohee invented a tale about a princess named “y/n,” who needed to be rescued by the great knight “Sohee.”

⭑.ᐟ anton

He loves kids. In fact, he adores them, and he knows exactly how to take care of them. You, on the other hand, would feel completely lost. Even though you wanted to help out or spend some time playing with the child, they always ended up gravitating toward Anton. It wasn’t intentional, and you found it sweet to watch the two of them together, but deep down, you felt a little bad that the child kept choosing him over you. Anton noticed and told the child to go hug you and plant a kiss on your cheek while you were sitting on the couch, which completely made your night.

masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies @ramyeonzprincess

[touyaz]

love shot

pairing shidou ryuusei x fem reader

word count 1.7k

notes the dialogue in this is the focal point & i was experimenting with it a lot, so shidou does say really . weird things. he's a lil hot + nasty like that <3 if you dont like it sorry u have no taste ♥️🙏

WARNINGS oral (f rec), masturbation (m), fingering, lots of petnames (wife, babygirl, and some other weird ones), reader has body hair. calls reader's pussy 'she' but otherwise no pronouns.

MINORS, AGELESS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ ONLY.

"ain't this the dream?" shidou murmurs, kneading your hips mindlessly. his head is buried in the crook of your neck, lips peppering kisses wherever they can. "bagged a cute, lil wife all for myself."

"stop it," you protest, leaning your head towards his so he has no space to press on. "we can do this later."

a displeased whine escapes him, and he tilts his head to dot kisses along your shoulder instead. "fuck that," he groans, and one hand comes up to tug the neckline of your shirt away. his mouth is hot against you, a little meaner than earlier with how he nips at your skin. he sweetens the blow with a fleeting kiss, only to repeat it all in the next second. "want your attention on me now."

"and i want to finish making dinner, but i guess—" you yelp when he bites the juncture between your neck and shoulder, dropping the knife in your hand so you can bat at his hands. "sei!"

"my bad," he snickers, his smirk searing itself into your flesh. "what'cha cookin', sweetcheeks?"

"curry," you snap, holding on to the edge of the counter when he doesn't budge. you bow your head, and as much as you want to finish making dinner, it's getting harder to focus on what you need to do next when shidou licks up the slant of your neck, nibbling on that soft spot behind your ear. "but it's all gonna— gonna burn if you keep this up."

"that's fine," he drawls, voice low like the rumble of a jet lifting off with the promise of taking you to new highs. "i'm in the mood for somethin' else, anyway."

there's no question about what he means when his hand snakes down your front, cupping where you're warm, wanting.

"bet you're pretty hungry for me yourself, huh?" he grins, rubbing over your sex firmly despite the layers. you can't deny it has you a little desperate, melting like butter in the hot pot next to you. it's always been too easy for him to get you like this, to have you craving whatever it is that he wants to do to you. "gonna let me take care of that for you?"

"you can do what you want later," you try again, one final attempt to win this battle, but shidou's never been one to share first place when it comes to competitions.

"or, i can turn this shit off," he starts, and he takes it upon himself to ruin everything you've done, turning the knob on the stove, so the fire dies out. "and you can hop onto the counter and let me dig into that sweet cunt of yours. sounds a lot better my way, yeah?"

there's no point in moaning about your half-cooked meal when he drags you away and helps you sit up on a cleaner surface.

"you're making dinner tonight after this," you tell him.

"yeah, yeah, whatever." he's more focussed on getting you out of your clothes, dragging your underwear down, too, and kicking the pile away when you're finally half-naked for him.

"and washing up."

"babydoll, i'll do whatever you fuckin' want, long as you spread your legs for me."

his words have you biting your cheek, and in a last ditch effort to defy him, you don't part your legs like he wants you to.

you also don't stop him from pushing them apart himself.

"not so mouthy now, are you?" he snickers, staring down at you. you can't hold his gaze and it makes him laugh louder. but then he leans in to kiss your cheek softly and the contrast has you clinging onto the edge of the counter, gulping. "you're so fuckin' cute," he murmurs, biting the fat of your cheek teasingly. "it's alright, baby, your cunt's doin' all the talkin' for you, dripping all over the kitchen. this your secret ingredient? cookin' up a love shot for me tonight?"

"shut up," you admonish, squeezing your eyes shut as if that'll help drown out his words. "that's so gross."

"fuck yeah, it is." he grins, canines bared and ready to feast. he finally sinks to his knees, and his voice sounds far away but no less overwhelming. "wouldn't mind you doing it for real. wouldn't ever wanna eat anything without it, though." he drags your legs over his shoulders easily. he wastes no time in getting his mouth on you, licking a long stripe up your slit and groaning at the taste. "oh, fuck yeah, this is it. been starving for your pussy juice all fuckin' day."

"don't— don't say that." you pull on his hair, taking your embarrassment out on him, but the moan he belts out doesn't sound the slightest bit pained.

"eh, why not?" he sucks your clit into his mouth, grazing his teeth over it lightly enough to make you jerk in his hold. he lets go with a wet smack of his lips, waiting patiently for you to look at him. when he notes the haze in your eyes, the dew on your lashes and the crease in your brows, he grins. "don't wanna hear how I've been thinking about your angel cunt all day? jacked off so many fuckin' times as well—"

"shut up—" you cry, yanking his hair, but he only rolls his eyes back shamelessly.

"fuck yeah, sexy." he drags you to the edge of the counter and back onto his eager mouth. his tongue is hot, wet, everywhere all at once. "pull it harder," he goads. "make it hurt."

narrowly, you watch as one hand disappears below, followed by the sounds of clothes ruffling as he loosens his trousers. "gonna make me nut all over the fucking floor."

he slurps noisily, messily, but it's not enough to mask the grunts and wet clicks that track each stroke of his length. his arm is a blur to you as he pumps himself, and your fingers flex around his pink-tipped strands in an attempt to ground yourself to something that isn't the lewd slide of his tongue into your sopping hole. his free hand joins in now, and it's your eyes rolling back this time, whimpers trickling out you as he starts circling your clit.

you barely understand when he starts mumbling into your pussy, "how about i'll cook ya dinner and you clean up my cum, how's that sound? off my dick and off the floor— so fuckin' dirty, bet you'd do it, though, eh?" he isn't looking for an answer, continues flicking his tongue and pinching your swollen bud and fucking his own fist to your whines. "soaking my face so much, yeah, you would do it, wouldn't ya? you've been like this all day? been waitin' for me to come home and eat you out? put up a fight earlier for what?" he slaps your clit lightly, but it's enough to have you bucking up, gasping. "yeah, that's it. been wanting this sloppy cunt on my face all day."

another hit lets you hear just how soaked you are from all his spit and drool, from your own arousal. "listen to that, she's been missing me, huh? sweet thing's been pent-up and leaking for me all day, haven't ya?" he kisses your clit and all along your slit, unabashedly wetting his lips with your arousal. "i'm here, babygirl, gonna take care of ya, gonna give you everything you're dripping for."

he uses his entire hand to spread your arousal around. he drags the mess from your slit upwards, soaking the hairs on your pelvis and drying off on your thighs only to push his fingers into your aching hole and follow the slick trail with his tongue instead.

"you ready to cum, baby?" through half-lidded eyes you can make out the way he looks up at you, eyes dark but sparking wickedly. "gonna give me all your honey-sweet love juice?"

you shake your head, gritting your teeth and hating every word that leaves him. you hate how it has you leaking onto his tongue, the coil inside of you winding tight.

he sinks his teeth along your thighs, curls his fingers in your pussy, and screws his hand around his dick. it's too much. he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks; he slips a third finger in and crooks it just right—

"don't leave me hangin' now, sugarcunt," he calls out. "let me get a taste of ya, i'm so fuckin' hungry. thought you were gonna feed me, huh?"

—and you cum with a drawn-out cry of his name, and he drags your high out until it hurts for him to give you any more.

"there she goes, give me all that sweet angel nut, baby."

your head spins, body heavy yet weightless.

over the sounds of your stilted breaths, you hear him growling, wet schlicks following as he brings himself to his own release. "oh, fuck yeah, this is it— gonna bust a— all over. should've cum in your little cunt— do it, next— gonna cum— gonna fuckin'—" his body tenses up and you watch as his cum spurts out, staining your cupboards.

he'll definitely be cleaning that up himself.

"that's the good shit," he sighs, slowing down his strokes. "feels so much better blowin' my load after eating your cum first. might have to bottle you up," he laughs tiredly. he slumps over, resting his head on your knee, and you push back the sweaty strands that cling to his forehead.

"what's—" you pant, taking a deep breath in. his chest heaves, but he doesn't look half as affected as you; if anything, he looks ready to go for another round or two, already dotting kisses back up your thigh. "what the hell's honey love juice?"

"all this good shit." he beams, easily sinking two fingers into your pussy. when he pulls them back out, he shows off the creamy strands of your arousal proudly. "and it's honey-sweet love juice. not a fan?"

"god, no," you grumble, staring at the webs that hang between his fingers.

you grimace as he slips his fingers into his mouth, speaking around them, "tastes sweet as honey, though." your face scrunches up with distaste and he continues, "how about sugar squirt, then? or creamy sex slick? or droolin'—"

[shakespearianne]

How is that for a thank you ? || Eddie Munson x fem!reader (part. 2)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!henderson!reader

Warning: 18+smut (minors dni), use of weed, swearing, mention of death, a bit of a spoiler for season 4 (fix-it fic) 

Summary: part 2. to this. we finally get to the smut. ENJOY BABES

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I came back from holidays and it turns out that writing good smut in a language that is not your own is waaaay more difficult than I remembered. I'm quite the perfectionist so I took the time to craft something that I would not regret putting on the internet. hope you enjoy! don't forget to like/reblog/tell me what you thought about it blablabla. might write a part. 3 with good ole morning smut. we shall see. (friendly reminder: i am french so if you see mistakes or typos... no u didn't)

Tags: use of y/n, fem!reader, henderson!reader, reader is dustin older sister, reader saved eddie from the dermobats, and now she can’t sleep so she goes to him, you can guess what happens next, use of weed, swearing, mention of death, ennemies to lovers,  mild smut in part. 1 (making out, hickeys, hair pulling), heavier smut in part. 2 (dirty talk, oral (both m and f receiving), rough sex, choking, pet names, hair pulling, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tape it!!) switch!eddie, switch!reader, dumbasses in love), angst, but also fluff and tenderness, Eddie has self-esteem issue because of his scars and reader conforts him, fix-it fic, season 4 ends very differently, reader is a theater kid and a Shakespeare fan, they make lotr references while fuckin SUE ME

Word count: 4.7k

Taglist: @thikkiesixx - @kiarabellerum31 - @chloebeansack

Eddie was dragging her towards his bedroom, their lips only parting when they needed to breath, their hands only leaving each other’s bodies to open the door and their breathing now in such perfect harmony that Y/N could swear that they were sharing a pair of lungs. She felt the back of her knee bump into Eddie’s bed and immediately sat, pulling the metalhead to her. One hand was on his cheek and the other, palming the promising tent that had formed behind his jeans. Of course he was big, she always had the instinct that Eddie Munson would not disappoint in this department. 

“Easy, princess.” Eddie growled against her lips, dropping on his knees before her. “I have to give thanks to the valiant warrior that saved my mediocre existence from a certain death, remember?” His skillful hands rapidly unknotted the lace of her boots, removing them in a hurry. Once they were gone, as well as her socks, he planted a kiss on the sole of both of her feet. The act surprised Y/N by its deference and she shivered at the sight of a disheveled Eddie Munson, staring at her like she was a goddess. A pool of heat was forming in her underwear and she bit her lips, wordlessly calling Eddie to her. And he heard her. She refused to ask or to beg. She wanted to be in control but when she felt his hands casually finding their way to her thighs, she realized that this battle would not be an easy win. But fuck it. Defeat didn’t sound so dreadful now that Eddie was tantalizingly playing with the buttons of her jeans. 

“For fuck’s sake, Munson!” She cried when he finally started to undress her, but always with a deliberately indolent pace. “If you don’t touch me now, I swear I’m going to leave you there and-“ She choked on her words. Without a warning, Eddie had ripped her panties from her body and parted her dripping fold with a single finger. 

“You’re not going anywhere.” He panted, his face approaching her burning cunt. “Not when you’re so wet and warm and mine.”

Y/N did not had the strength to repress the moan that left her throat when she finally felt his tongue on her. She was no virgin, having already had a few boyfriends before, but this was different. Maybe it was because Eddie actually knew what he was doing, his tongue tracing unknown patterns on her velvety flesh. Maybe it was because he now lapped at her clit – fuck, she didn’t even had to help him find it - like a parched man. Maybe it was because he was genuinely enjoying the act, humming as Y/N bucked her hips, trying to create even more friction between his face and her slit. 

“Patience, my dear.” Eddie chuckled at her eager reaction and he placed both of his hands of her hipbones to keep her still. His gentle pressure on her body was like electricity to Y/N. She gasped and, without thinking, her right hand let go of the sheets that she was clutching seconds ago to intertwine her fingers with Eddie’s. She acted on pure instinct and the look that he gave her, his boyish grin spreading to his soft dimples, made her shiver once more. She leaned her head back, muffling another moan as Eddie flattened his tongue on her core. 

“Don’t.” He croaked between two feverish strokes and Y/N felt the vibration of his deep voice in every fiber of heir being. “Wanna hear you.” A kiss pressed on her thigh. “Want all of this shitty town to hear you.” Lips turned into teeth, kiss shifted into sting. “Let em’ know.” He was marking her, claiming her and the thought of her body carrying his print deepened the sudden wave of pleasure that shook her as she felt one of his fingers playing with the entrance of her cunt. “Let em’ know who got you drenched.” 

“You’ll h-have to d-do b-better than that, Munson” Her back was arching so much that Y/N felt like she was on the verge of snapping. She thought she knew her body, how pleasure altered it but God, how wrong had she been. Because has soon as Eddie Munson swiftly introduced his forefinger into the blazing fire that was burning inside of her, nothing mattered anymore except him. “O-o-oh FUCK!”

Eddie chuckled against her sex and another finger joined the fun while he gently pressed a trail of sloppy kisses on the apex of her mount. “Better, princess?” But if Y/N sensed a touch of teasing, there was also a genuine warmth in his laugh and soon she was joining him in his merriment. 

“Shit, Munson” The side of her face was pressed into the mattress, a mouth agape as her teeth pressed into her lower lip. The wave of euphoria that was threatening to take over her body sharper and sharper as Eddie persisting on making her feel in a way that had been unknown to her before this night. He was relentless, now three digits deep into her, curling them so that they could reach a very special spot that made Y/N feel like she might pass away from such pleasure. His tongue played with her clit with a ruthless dexterity and if the combination of the two hadn’t been enough, Eddie’s moans filled the air of the trailer, harmonizing with Y/N’s whimpers. “You really are a freak, aren’t you?” 

“Trust me, doll, you ain’t seen nothing yet” Eddie’s husky voice was breathy and there was a form of natural authority in his tone that sent Y/N over the edge. Suddenly, everything was too much as a shattering tide took over her. She couldn’t see anything, she could only feel and feel and feel as the delirium turned her sobs into a cry. She heard Eddie, whose lips were back to the flesh of her tights and Y/N would have been incapable of discerning if she was actually hearing his voice or simply feeling the vibration of his shout into her body, translating the sensation into words.  

“Fuck, princess, you’re taking me so well, you’re such a good girl, aren’t you? You got the sweetest pussy I’ve ever seen – shit – never, never gonna touch another one after – oh you got more ?- after you.” His fingers slowly exited her and Y/N cried at the lost touch. She suddenly felt empty and without thinking, she took the hand that had spent the last minutes inside of her cunt and wrapped her lips around Eddie’s soaked fingers. There was a surprising bitterness in her juices but Y/N didn’t have the time to examine it. Bluntly, a scent of smoke descended upon her and Eddie replaced his fingers with his lips.

“Fuck, that was the hottest thing ever.” He smiled against her and Y/N slightly parted her mouth, welcoming his tongue with her own. This kiss was almost kind, and for a moment, it was as though time had stopped. 

Y/N’s entire body was ablaze, blurry from the aftermath of what had surely been the most powerful orgasm of those eighteen years spent on earth. But still, she knew that the show was far from being over and that after giving so much, her partner was more than deserving of a little reward. With shaky hands, she slowly pull herself back in a sitting position, breaking the kiss so that her face would be perfectly situated in front of her new focus point : Eddie Munson’s clothed erection. 

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

Eddie felt like he was in a trance. In all honesty, he had imagined, dreamed about and even jerked to this scenario multiple times. Y/N Henderson, the bane of his existence and yet the object of all his desires, no matter how borderline pornographic they were, slowly unclasping his belt, her half-hooded gaze fixed on him as she began to undo his zipper. He could have creamed his pants at this very picture. But nothing could have prepared him for what happened next. 

She rolled down his jeans and boxer, leaving no room for imagination as his cock proudly stood, already leaking with pre-cum. He wanted her. God, he had wanted her for ages and he was just realizing it now. Eddie was beginning to comprehend that what he had mistaken for exasperation or annoyance was just pure desire. He sincerely believed that it was just anger that had made him dream about fucking Y/N on his Hellfire’s throne or in the back of his van or even against that damn wood table in the woods behind Hawkins High. But if Eddie Munson was angry when he was aggressively pumping himself to the thought of her bare ass against his pelvis, he was only angry at himself for not having the courage to actually do something about it. It could have been easy. Her little brother worshipped him, he didn’t need any excuses to hang out at her house and they even shared a couple of classes. But Eddie was convinced that Y/N would never see him in such a light. He had thought once that his attraction was one-sided, but boy, he couldn’t have been more wrong. 

And like she was trying to prove his ignorance to him, Y/N slowly pressed her tongue on the palm of her dominant hand, licking it entirely and before Eddie could voice his surprise, this very hand was on his shaft and he was lost. There was no way he could go back to taking himself in hand now that he knew what it felt to have Y/N stroking his length, applying just the right amount of pressure and speed. The only that was missing was-

« Oh fuck-fuck-fuck. » 

She had delicately wrapped her glossy lips around him and the sensation of ecstasy that was building inside him sharpened almost instantly. Her cock was gliding inside of her mouth, the tip finding its path all the way to her throat. She was taking him almost entirely and what couldn’t fit inside of her, she stroked it, leaving not one inch unattended. 

« H-holy shit p-princess » He shuttered « Fuck, you got the face of a saint but the mouth of a-a - shit- a sinner. » 

Y/N hummed with content and the vibration almost pushed Eddie to the edge. She parted her lips to speak but her hand refused to let go of his dick and her not-so-gentle ministrations continued. 

« Wait ´till you see the rest of me. » she humored with a wink and before Eddie could jab back, she ran her tongue on his length, following the route of a particularly prominent vein on his underside. She was killing him. There was something unexpected about this, about the way she was seemingly enjoying this, finding pleasure in offering some to him. Eddie the freak Munson. Eddie the Banished. Eddie the idiot for whom she had been willing to risk her life. But now was not the time to dwell on the past, no matter how recent it was. A kiss, softly pressed at the base of his cock, brought Eddie back to a much more enjoyable reality. Y/N was alternating between stroking, licking and kissing every part of his being. She then engulfed him almost entirely and narrowed her cheeks, staring at him with a gleam that couldn’t let Eddie mistaken. She knew what she was doing. And she loved it. 

« W-wait! Sweetheart, wait! » Eddie never thought that he would have to refrain his own hips from bucking into the mouth of a girl who was giving him what was definitively the best blowjob of his life (not that he had received that many, truth to be told). Y/N let him go from her lips with a distinct « pop! » and the gentle feeling of her shaky breath on his sensitive tip made Eddie shudder, again. « M’ never going to last if you keep doing that and tonight » He took her face between his hands, kneeling so that they were now both at the same level and he pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. « I want to » His lips were now on her cheeks, barely touching them. « Finish » Her jaw was next, and the kiss always more tender « Inside » Then, her nose « Of you ». Eddie had saved Y/N’s lips for last and if the tone of his voice was teeming with lust, his mouth seemed to be carrying a devotion that was almost chaste.

“C’mere, pretty boy” Her inflection was but a murmur but the urge behind it was more pressing than if Y/N had shouted it. Eddie wasted no time, their kiss deepening while he towered above her frame, one hand finding its way on the back of her neck while the other grasped one of her thighs, maneuvering her so that she would lay underneath him on a bed that definitely would soon be adorned with new stains. “I’ll be good to you if you’re good to me.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” The metalhead chuckled, his nose pressed at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Y/N giggled at the touch and Eddie made a mental note to find new ways to make her laugh afterwards because this sound was like a symphony to his ears. “I believe you’ll find out soon enough” She tilted her head to him, capturing his lips with hers and the laugh became a moan. Gone was the tenderness, only existed the need for each other. Y/N’s hands were now traveling from Eddie’s shoulders to his lower back, her fingernails gently grazing the fabric of his shirt. Once at the hem, she pinched the clothing between her fingers and started to pull it up.

“Wait.” Eddie blurted, his word an echo of the scene that had taken place a few minutes before. Only this time, his hesitation was not related to an imminent orgasm but it was due to what Eddie could best describe as a form of reticence, modesty even. Y/N probably felt it because her hands were suddenly framing his face with care. “Are you okay?” She inquired, her voice barely a whisper. “Did I do something… wrong?” There was no accusation in her tone, only a sincere concern that made Eddie’s heart twitch. 

“No-not at all, angel.” He hesitated, trying to find the right words to accurately describe to Y/N what was going on in that somewhat crazy head of his. “It’s just that-“ Again, he paused, biting his lips as if that would provide some sort of inspiration. 

“Hey” Y/N murmured, one of her thumb tracing delicate circles against the skin of his cheek “That’s okay, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, trust me sweetheart, I want to.” Eddie’s chuckle was almost a cry as he covered her hand with his. “I want you.” He pressed his lips into the palm of her hand, searching for courage in the subtle labyrinth of her lines. “I want you so much it’s actually driving me mad. But… But I’m afraid that you will not want me anymore if you see me without the shirt. You see, those fucking dermobats, they kinda took a few pieces of me before dropping dead. Like a little souvenir, y’know? Anyway, I was never picture perfect but now…” He sighed, closing his eyes. “I mean, those scars… They pretty bad.”

Y/N stayed silent for a moment and Eddie feared that he had ruined anything, like he always seemed to do, and that she would soon be running away from him. He didn’t dare to open his eyes, the hurt would be too intense if he saw the rejection in her eyes. Slowly, he felt her moving beneath him, removing her hands from his face and he flinched, preparing himself for the inevitable emptiness that would follow once she would have left the bed. But she didn’t push him away or wormed her way out. Eddie heard the distinct sound of fabric, he felt Y/N shifting and his curiosity got the best of him. He opened his eyes.

Y/N laid there, her shirt now on the floor of his bedroom. Naked. The perfection of her body left Eddie breathless. He had seen his fair share of the female anatomy, but most of it had came from magazines or porn movies. It was nothing compared to the pure realness of seeing her bare in his sheets. The soft curve of her stomach, the oh so enticing prospect of her breasts, the freckles that seemed to form an entire galaxy on her body and… the scars. 

“I’ve got my share of souvenir from the Upside Down, remember?” Her hand found his again, only this time she placed it on her side, where a rosy wound had taken place. Eddie wanted to slap himself for forgetting that she had been there. That she had fought with him. Not only with you, but for you, he pondered. “I found it happens when you basically save the world.” There was a humor in her voice that was contagious, and Eddie found himself smiling. “And truth to be told, I always thought scars were extremely sexy.” 

“Oh, really?” He teased, marveling at how prodigious it as that she had shifted the tone of the conversation back to a playful, flirty exchange. 

“Totally dig that shit.” Y/N nodded enthusiastically. “Makes me feel like I’m about to fuck Aragorn.”

This time, Eddie couldn’t repress the burst of laughter that left his lips. Y/N joined him and in a minute, all of his inhibitions were forgotten. She, the girl of his (wet) dreams, was laying on his bed, naked, beautiful, comfortable enough to show her own scars to him and now she was making Lord of the Rings references? If there was a God up there, he was really on Eddie’s side.

“Well, in that case, can’t keep my Evenstar waiting, can I?” Eddie acted quickly, like he was ripping a band-aid off. Don’t think, just move. He tossed his shirt on the floor and winced at the feeling of his skin, bared and exposed. But before he could mumble any kind of apologies for his appearance, Y/N was pressing her mouth on his torso. With a gentle fever, she travelled across his damaged skin, pecking each of his flaws. She didn’t speak and Eddie was grateful for her silence, for he knew that she was conveying much more by her actions. She ended at the scar that was just below his left collarbone, where a creature had left a nasty scratch, disfiguring the tattoo of a demon that once spread there. 

“Yup.” She hummed, almost as if she was speaking to herself. “Extremely sexy.” She pressed her nose in Eddie’s neck and the sudden intimacy of it was suddenly too much. He needed her, needed to be inside of her and his cock seemed to agree as it twitched against her. A soft moan escaped Y/N’s lips, quickly turning into a chuckle. “Is that Andúril in your pocket Munson, or you’re just happy to see me?” 

“Jesus, Henderson, shut up!” Eddie giggled, shaking his head. There was no animosity in his voice, only warmth. And Y/N must have felt it as well, because she titled her head and with a wink, she simply answered “Make me.”

Their lips reunited once again, without a word. There was no need for it anymore, their bodies dancing in synchronicity, the constant caress of skin against skin resulting in a harmony of moans and whimpers. Eddie reached his hand to the nightstand, having still enough senses to remember that a condom would soon be necessary. Y/N stopped him, her grip gentle on his wrist. 

“We don’t need to.” She smiled, and it was as if she was telling him a secret. “I’m on the pill.”

“Y-you sure?” Eddie almost choked, the thought of fucking her raw almost enough to make him burst like a schoolboy. Y/N lightly chuckled at his reaction, and she brought his hand back to her soaked cunt. 

“I’m sure.” She whined as his fingers found the way to her clit. “Just fuck me Munson, I don’t think I can wait any longer.” 

Eddie didn’t need any other words of encouragement. He took himself in hands, gave his throbbing cock a few strokes and positioned himself at her entrance. He searched for a gaze and Y/N gave him a quick nod before he plunged into her warmth. 

Time stood still. Mouths opened in unison, bodies so deeply intertwined that it was as though they had never been apart. The atmosphere shifted and when Y/N finally spoke, after what felt like a blissful eternity, she pleaded his name.

“Eddie.”

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

Y/N realized as she spoke that it was the first time that she was calling him by his first name tonight, and the sheer intimacy of it made her gasp for air. He was everywhere. He had always been a part of her, like a seed planted in the soil of her being, that had grown unbeknownst and that now stood haughtily. She couldn’t escape it now, not even if she had decided to flee this bed, this bedroom, this city. He would follow her no matter where she went. He would know how to find her. It was too late. It was ecstatically too late. 

“Eddie, please, move.” Y/N implored, desperate for more. He was so deep inside of her, and yet that was not enough. But what could be enough with him? Would she ever be satisfied? 

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so tight.” Eddie groaned, pressing his lips against the flesh of her neck as he began to pull out, ever so slowly that Y/N felt like crying. “S-so tight and so wet and fuck baby, is all of that for me?” He slammed into her as the last word left his mouth and she sobbed instantly. He was even deeper now and it was like his cock was in her chest. 

“S’all for you” Y/N rocked her hips against his pelvis, beginning a luscious dance. “Only for you, Eddie – shit, you’re so big, so good to me”

“M’never gonna last baby doll, fu-u-u-uck you’re clutching me so-o-o good, you’re such a good girl.”

The praise made her insane, years of searching for academic validation turned into a frantic urgency to please him, to make him say those words again. And Eddie clearly understood it by the way she moaned, head tilted backward, fingernails sinking into the skin of his back. 

“Christ, does that turn you on?” His mouth was at her ear, lower than ever and yet louder than a storm. “You look insanely hot right now, makes me want to fuck you again and again and again.” He repeated, each word synchronized with his thrusts. 

“Please” Y/N urged, on the verge of crying “Please don’t stop, don’t ever stop.”

“Your wish is my command, sweetheart.” 

She couldn’t speak anymore after that. Words escaped her mouth like raindrops would flee from a thick cloud, begging to reach the ground. The pleasure was immense, unlike anything she had ever experienced before. His cock glided against the silky walls of her pussy with such swiftness, always crashing into that very special spot that made Y/N feel like she was about to inflame. She was grasping onto Eddie’s back with desperation, hunting for contact. His dick wasn’t enough, she needed to feel his lips on hers, she craved the touch of his hand on her neck, even the brush of his long hair, matted with sweat, against her skin was enough to make her howl.

“M’ almost there Eddie” Y/N cried as another wave of pleasure took over her, threatening to shatter her soul into a million pieces. 

“I got you.” He pressed his thumb onto her clit, tracing excruciating circles against the blazing nerve. “M’ gonna make you cum, will you come for me sweetheart?”

“Oh fuck, yes, yes I will!” Hot tears sprung from her eyes but she felt no shame. She couldn’t be ashamed of how Eddie was making her feel, especially when he collected the drops with his plump lips, as if he was drinking the sweetest nectar. “Make me cum, please, Eddie. Wanna cum for you so bad.”

“Good girl” His thrusts became needier and the drenched sounds of his cock into her made Y/N moan with delight. “Christ, baby, you’re amazing, you know that? I can’t believe I get to fuck you, get to fill you up with my cum.”

“Fill me”” Y/N required in a growl “Mark me, make me yours.”

“You mine?” Eddie’s voice was peculiarly soft, a striking opposition to the rhythm of his body. “Cause I have to tell you, Y/N, I am yours.”

“Y-yes ! Yes, Eddie, I’m yours, I’m all yours!” 

There was no point in denying it now. The truth laid bare and Eddie pulled Y/N against him for a kiss, somewhat tender despite the clash of tongue and teeth. Her vision blurred and a piercing flash of pleasure stroke her. She felt her walls clenching around Eddie’s dick, the juices of her orgasm wrapping him as he reached his own zenith a few seconds after her. He moaned her name and his dick twitched, his warm liquids painting the walls of her cunt. Their hips kept thrusting against each other, riding their common orgasm until the very end. They laid silent for a moment, once they had both given each other a taste of heaven. Eddie’s face was almost hidden in the crook of Y/N’s neck, still inside of her, his cock slowly softening. She was stroking his hair with one hand and his back with the other. 

“That was-” Eddie finally spoke but Y/N ended his sentence “- out of this world”

“I was gonna say ‘amazing’ but that works too I guess” He chuckled against her skin and slowly pushed himself up and out of her. She winced at his exit and he pressed tender kisses on her sweat-covered skin. “I know, babe. But I gotta clean you up now.” 

Eddie swiftly jumped out of the bed and started rummaging through and old drawer. Y/N gazed at how the subtle muscles of his back moved, delicate pearls of sweat adorning his pale skin, dousing him in an opalescent glaze. He finally paused and with a “Aha! Found it!”, he turned around, revealing the clean towel in his hand. Eddie returned to the bed, positioning himself between Y/N thighs and started his gentle ministrations. He was focused yet devoted and Y/N smiled at the sight of his tongue pointing out of his mouth while he tenderly removed the remains of his juices from her warm skin. He looked adorable and as soon as Eddie had finished cleaning the both of them, she wrapped her arms against his neck to bring him close to her.

“C’mere” She softly demanded. “Wanna hug you.” 

“You do?” He appeared to be genuinely taken aback by her request and Y/N nodded, slipping one of her legs between his thighs to further the embrace.

“I do.”

I do want to hug you.

I do want this to be more than a one-time thing.

I do want you.

There was a lot that she was trying to convey with those two words, but she lacked the courage, for now. Eddie seemed to understand it and he pressed her frame against his body. His mouth pressed soft pecks onto her temple and Y/N hummed with content, sleep finally taking over her body. 

“I’d walk onto Mordor for you, you know.”

His voice was barely a whisper and for a second, Y/N thought that she had dreamed it. But it was real and it was now. 

“I know.” She closed her eyes, unable to look at him before she spoke again “And I’d do the same for you.”

“Oh, love, I think you already did when you turned up to smash those fuckin’ bats, looking sexy as hell while telling me I was a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Y/N smiled against his lips, giving him a gentle kiss. “I’d do it again. Even if you are a fuckin’ idiot.” 

[sundaiys]

SWEATER WEATHER | T.KUROO

— [♡] ; SYNOPSIS: kuroo just came home from a late game, to see his girlfriend in his hoodie with a pair of boy shorts. Kuroo is wanderlust by the sight and can’t help himself from roaming his hands all over her

— [♡] ; PAIRING: Tetsurou Kuroo x fem!reader.

— [♡] ; RATED: 18+ , mature. MDNI.

— [♡] ; GENRE: Smut.

— [♡] ; CW: Soft dom!Kuroo. Kitchen Sex. Daddy! Kink. Fingering. Choking. Squirting. Mild spanking. Mild marking. Overstimulation. Dacryphilia. Unprotected sex (u better not have unprotected sex be safe!). Creaming. Creampie. Praise kink. Size kink. Dirty talk. Multiple orgasms. Slight degradation. Voice kink.

Kuroo's reverence for the game occasionally descends him away from the best part of his life, but most importantly it prods him from his relationship. Though he never meant to purposely bypass their at-home dates, or their midnight drives, he was just really concentrated on playing and winning, getting better. but one thing he will concede is how his girlfriend is always on his mind. whenever he drove across the court to obstruct the opposite team's toss, or spike all he could think about was the first time she came to his game.

"yess kuroo!!" she shrieked from the bleachers, the sweat dripping down his chin allotting her the signature smirk ensued by a wink, he worshiped to make her mystify to the point all she could do was laugh. when she couldn't make it to his games due to classes, work, or other reasons, her smile was incised in the back of his mind, smirking with every spike blocked though he reminded her. 'I can only back so many, won't be a hundred percent every game' , but he gave it a hundred percent when she was gawking. her praises and company was something he could never abandon.

Nerd 💕🧪: i guess this is a taste of my own medicine Huh?

She smiles typing her fingers as fast as she could to reply, her cheeks burning by his straightforward confession, though they've been dating for two years now, she still couldn't handle his snarky attitude.

She smiles typing her fingers as fast as she could to reply, her cheeks burning by his straightforward confession, though they've been dating for two years now, she still couldn't handle his snarky attitude.

Kuroo was leaning his head on the window soughing softly at the scarcity of his girlfriend, his fingertips succumbing to squeeze her plump thighs, to caress her tailbone with his middle fingers drawing circles on her shoulder blades. His phone buzzing with spam messages, turning his mood from sweet to sour and back to sweet once seeing the message name. He missed her voice and hug so much.

Lovely ❤️‍🔥👸: skskdha I miss uuuu :((

Lovely ❤️‍🔥👸: I can't wait till you come home :(

Lovely ❤️‍🔥👸: yeah get a taste of ur own medicine!!! You bully 🥳

Lovely ❤️‍🔥👸: I miss u I luv u. I wanna kiss ur face until you giggle :( , I want to cuddle and watch movies with you. Promise me once you come back we’ll stay inside and cuddle all day, eat pizza and ice cream, watch movies and play the switch🥺.

Kuroo lets out a breathy ‘tsk’ , texting her back with a smile he hums softly, she's unaware to the news that he's coming back two days early from his away game having won both games it didn't make sense for them to stay any longer. Lev rising from his seat with a mischievous grin plastered on his lips kuroo not in the mood to deal with teasing throws a random jacket hitting him square in the face. “Don't start with me, brat”

Her phone lay on the bathroom counter blaring music In the background as she washed her face, switching from product to product in hopes of finding something to make her skin clear, it was something she had been insecure about for the longest. Smirking she recalls the remark kuroo said to her just after they had dinner two weeks ago

‘you're fucking beautiful, and whoever disagrees, is just delirious they're talking about themselves darling, don't worry about what they say, worry about my words and how hot and bothered you got me with your looks’

Squeezing her thighs together she lets out a giggle, grabbing her phone she reads kuroo message.

Nerd 💕🧪: I guarantee I'll spend my whole day, kissing you, devouring you, fucking you, cuddling you. All the things I've been imagining about doing to you, and the aspects I wish to do with you.

Nerd 💕🧪: sounds good? I surely reckon it does, princess.

Rolling her eyes, she plopped her hand over her mouth quelling her mystifying screeches she replies with a simple ‘yes😵‍💫’, meanwhile kuroo smirks walking up to their shared house his keys nervously jiggling in the slot. ‘What's her reaction going to be?’ ‘is she already sleeping?’ opening the door he sees her figure standing in the kitchen eyes widen, lips slightly parted. ‘Was he really here?’ she thought to herself ‘he was supposed to come back two days from now’

“Good to see you too love,” kuroo smiled watching her run into his arms staggering from the force of her run he kissed the crown of her head humming with the solace of her fragrance, her ears on his battering chest. “You're back” her delicate voice against his chest “yeah, I'm back love” his smile accumulated bigger against her hair.

Pulling away from his embrace he handed her the flowers she smelled them smiling at her proud boyfriend, “you're so sweet to me, go take a shower before it gets super cold! I was just about to make dinner so you can tell how was your trip” beaming a large smile at him, his eyes glimmered in love, no more digital screens, this time it was physical. His lidded eyes blinked ever so lightly down at her “are you tired babe?” her fingernails caressing his back

“In love” he bluntly replies, hands cupping her cheeks to bend to her height as he finally kissed her, her warmth wrapped against his chest to chest her hands holding onto his abdomen, yeah he's so in love with her, and he feels bad for choosing volleyball over her. He promised himself he would manage the two things in his life he loved. “So fucking in love with you” his breathy voice fanning over her lips making her blush and hide in his chest.

“Awhh, princess did I make you flustered? Hmm?” he teases, his forefinger brushing the hair from her face behind her ear, with the soft lips kissing and sucking her exposed earlobe she melted in his arms like honey. Taking his advantage of his lips close to her jawline he trailed wet lingering endearments down to her neck feeling the goosebumps form on her forearm the unstable breaths “good girl, I'm going go take a shower now I'll help you once I get out” giving her a soft love tap on her ass he marches towards the living room leaving his girlfriend burning up, fanning herself with the card he bought with flowers she fills the vase up with water before setting them in.

Warming up a hot tea she is mesmerized and still believes she's dreaming ‘he's really here? , and giving me lots of attention right now, “yeah I am here, I did promise you I would give you all the things you need right?” his voice filled the room, looking into his eyes, slowly the panic sets in her own “yeah, princess, I heard you” cowering over the counter she groans in embarrassment her sweater paws covering her ears. Kuroo’s eyes scanned the outfit she had on. His hoodie. How big it looked on her, the only thing viable was her fingertips along with the knee down he wondered if she was completely naked underneath. The thought of it made his cock twitch, the blood rushing from is head to cock warm him.

Saying nothing he stands behind her, her ass against his hips, large hands roaming up her waist lifting the hoodie inch by inch into he has seen the peak of her ass, the color red Flashed him, her clothed pussy surrounded in red boy shorts. She felt his cock flinch at the sudden discovery breath getting shorter by his timber touches. “Kuroo...” she moaned, making him throw his head back in excitement. Guess she has to start wearing his clothes from now on, he thought to himself. “It was cold so I..” her sentence fell flat by the mere touch of his life kissing her inner thighs, up to her tailbone. Stomach arching against the cold marble counter. Both of his hands gripping her waist neatly.

Rubbing his swollen cock through his sweatpants on her heated clit, the pools arising in between her legs she shivered at the soft groans he let out. his nimble fingers grabbing her boy shorts by the hem snapping them on her heated skin.

“i planned to do lots of romantic shit with you,” bending down into her further his lips cased around her earlobe his hot breath making her shake against his chest “but you just had to look so beautiful in my hoodie hm?, so fucking pretty my girl is and bend over our kitchen counter” he hums in her ear.

“do you know how much i missed you hm?” turning her around to face him, his eyes glancing her entire body before grabbing her waist to place her on the counter, her legs wrapped around his middle hands planted on the counter “answer me, princess” eyes looking down into hers

“just as much as i did, baby” she answered breathy,kuroo hums pulling down her boy shorts “wearing my boxers hmm? Missed me that much princess” his swollen lips pressed on her inner thigh the temperature rising by each tender placement of his lips, his eyes trained on her reactions taking mental notes of what caused her to be breathless and what gave her goosebumps, when her brain traveled away thinking about how much she missed him , the flirty texts and lewd pictures she sent him now she can-

His hand claps the side of her ass, gasping she grabs onto his forearm dizzy from the whiplash of stimulation. “Where’d you go baby girl? Hm? You don't need to be anywhere but here” cutting his sentence he grips her chin in between his forefinger and thumb “understood baby girl?” Her coated pussy clenching around the brisk air her legs quivered just a bit almost to cage kuroo in, his signature smirk above her lips. “Seems like someone impatient for me to make them come hm?”

“Yes, daddy” she moans above his lips, “oh? Using daddy against me huh?, “maybe i’ll give you what you want but I want you to plead, and tell me all the commodities you did to yourself those roguish pictures you sent me while I was away” his middle finger sliding up her inner thigh but halting before it touches her lips, back arching towards him but he brandishes her by the waist with one hand “m’not yet baby girl you still haven't begged yet”

“Please touch my daddy, I want you to please me” kuroo crooked his eyebrow ultimately touching her dripping sex, a faded moan falling creamy on his lips the breath of despondency felt on his skin “eyes on me, I want unrestrained eye contact as you come for me”

Her doe eyes gleaming into his amber ones scrunched up eyebrows followed by soft pants when he plopped two fingers into her hole, hearing the lewd sounds of her wet pussy made his cock become harder begging to be let out of his murky sweatpants. Curling his finger as he repeatedly hit her G-spot. “K...k..kuroo” she whines, taking whines as a pled for more he pumps her faster his palm hit her soaked clit. “Yes? Princess” he teases.

Their eyes trained on each other his hand cupping her face he gives her a soft kiss on the lips “good girl, look at you clenching down on me, you look like you're gonna come, so fucking do it then” with a cocky laugh his lips are on her earlobe “no ones stopping you, your wet dreams and daily masturbation don't compare to me, right princess”

“N..no...you feel so good daddy” pumping her deeper into her walls crushing his fingers, his thumb rubbing circles on her clit “give it to me pretty girl” he smiles, thighs crushing his forearm with her hand placed on his wrist to push him away from her sensitive pussy, his other hand wrapping itself around her throat holding her in place. “Oh no princess, I'm going to make you come your brains out, my job isn't finished until you're crying and whimpering for me to stop” her unsteady pants caused her to cream around his fingers, the lewd sounds of her cum made the blood rush to her ears, the shakes of her thighs when she quite literally screamed his name. Kuroo loved to see her absolutely destroyed in Ecstasy “yes, give me another one, look at me princess” tilting her head up by her chin, he watches her mouth open slightly her moans were now silent as the tears rolled down her face.

“Pretty girl, come again for me” kissing her neck with wet lips, she was coming yet again on his fingers her moans were so loud he was sure his neighbors heard something, but he didn't quite care. Pulling his fingers out he licks her taste off his fingers humming in satisfaction her knees touch each other while her pussy clenched around the loss of his fingers. Pressing a single finger on her clit she flinched up to kuroo holding his arm. “I—I —, can't take no more daddy” she hiccuped. he could feel her pulse on her clit rapidly beating. Nodding his head his thumb swipes across her lower lip, he grabs her hand pressing it firmly against his dick, that's being held back by his sweatpants.

“Fuck me, please” her sparkling eyes with a slight slur still hazy from her high of two orgasms in under a minute. Kuroo kisses her lips gently his hand grabbing the hem of his sweats letting his cock spring out touching his abs, her eyes swelling at the fact she forgot his grithy kuroo is. “Since you asked so nicely sure, but you better not ever” pulling her down he bends her over the counter stomach pressed into the marble, she gasps feeling just the pressure of his tip cock warming her walls slightly.

His fingers marking crescents on her hips, ramming himself into fully, the bulge of his cock hitting her cervix his girlfriend on her tip-toes shaking as he impaled her, “forget, what this dick can do to you, understood?” she inaudibly gave him a string of jumbled words, while he eases in and out of her slowly her fingers reaching for something to steady herself settling for his toned thighs he smirked.

“Look at you princess, being so needy, almost makes me wanna pummel you into this counter” his hand colliding with her ass feeling her clench around him “oh? , so you like to be spanked huh? Good to know” bringing her hips to him with ever thrust her moans become louder and unsteady. “Yeah? You like that you fucking brat, taking this fat cock” the rhythm of his hips increased with every thrust hitting her G-spot every time, “look at you princess, a sloppy fucking mess, if only there was a mirror in here” holding her wrists behind her back, he leaned his lips onto her shoulder peppering wet kisses, and a few love bites. “Cause i’d fuck you in front of it”

His growls and groans filling her neck up, but she was panting his name hoping he heard, but it was all white noise in his mind. It wasn’t until he heard her choked cries of ‘I’m coming’ , hands deep in waist grunting while his cock stretches out her cunt, the crescents digging into his hands that grip her hands neatly, high pitched moans release from her puffy lips when he cockwarms her to an orgasm. “Oh...” she shutters around his cock, removing his grip from both her hands he holds her waist from pummeling to the ground.

“Nuh-huh, you're not going anywhere princess” lethargic soft thrusts touch her cervix she continues to shake and moan, her pants fogging up the counter as her eyes lazily closed feeling him stretch her out further. “Dumb already princess? Hm i’d thought you last longer than this..” wiping the tears from her eyelashes with his thumb, he kissed her ear softly “you must've touched yourself then” his voice turned dark, her stutters don't help her argument.

Though he wasn't wrong, she just wanted to explain. Kuroo pulls out watching her pussy clench around the missing feeling of him, taking his tip he presses it against her clit drawing circles her body twitched at the feeling, begging kuroo to let her come, but that's all he's ever wanted “come, who's stopping you?” his cocky smirk plastered across his face, it surely didn't take her long after he announced it. Her lips parted just ajar as the silence of her moans filled the air with her sloppy wet juices running down her knees. “Fuck you look so good when you come your brains out, what a good girl” , all she could muster was a soft hum. Pulling away from her swollen lips. Watching her back rise and descend slowly.

His grin when his hand collides with her ass she flinches but backs into his waistline “oh you poor little thing, you were just whining and moaning how you couldnt take no more” he bends her down into the counter her bare stomach sticking to the marble yet again “but now you want more?, you're a greedy girl, good girl as you should be” lifting her up he spreads her legs out admiring the glossy stains on her clit and inner thigh she was a complete mess and his cock twitched at the sight. “fuck, you're so fucking perfect babygirl” slinking down to her sloppy cunt he delivers slow lingering licks to her sensitive bud, the giggles blended with her soft moans “kuroo.. mmhh, i.. i can’t” her brain filling hazy clouds to the brim, she was close to her tears pouring down her cheeks. 

“you cant?” he teases removing his tongue from her warmth she whined, eyes opening to gaze into his hungry orbs “if that’s the case, make yourself feel good then princess, because the way i see it, your pussy is just leaking for me, and that whine from earlier, sounded very hungry to me” kuroo removes his hands from the counter that traps her in.

“go on babygirl, give me a show” his sadistic smirk followed by him leaning back admiring his work arms folded across his chest “I'm watching” placing his sweats back on, she slowly sits up knees touching eyes swimming in love, her eyes trailing from his toned v-line, up to his chiseled abs, thick collarbones to finally meeting his eyes. “Did I already make you stupid baby girl?” kuroo smirked in his sentence. Her fingers hooked on the hem of his sweats, drooling at the shadow of his cock through the fabric. Her other hands trailed up his abs her nails leaving soft scratches on his stomach, while the other hand grabbed his dick, feeling him twitch around her touch, the feelings of his veins flooded her cunt.

“I want you? I want all of you, take my walking rights away, make me delirious daddy” she pouted, her lips glossed in a coat of his precum. Kuroo lets out a desperate groan. She was driving him crazy, he never liked the idea of overstimulating her, making her cry during sex, always thought he'd be hurting. But those enlarged pupils and practical drools she wanted it just as much as he did. His thumb swiping her lower lip she wrapped her lips around his thumb, soaking it.

“Oh yeah?” he says above her lips, their eyes still connected to each other, “that's what you want?” she nods her head, clasping his fingers around her throat he pulls her in closer lips touching in a feral make-out session, his fingers slipping into her sloppy cunt he swallows her moans. Pulling away his warm lips leave wet kisses on her neck, “tell me how bad you want it baby girl?”

“I want you so badly daddy, make me a stuttering mess” she claws his back, getting him to growl in her neck “well?” slamming his fingers in her she holds onto his shoulders “who am I to deny you?” Pumping his fingers slowly into her core, she shuttered at the feeling of her walls covering his digits. Placing his free hand around her neck, angling her down to her drooling pussy he comments “look at my fingers while they fuck you, you fucking love it don't you princess?” whines and whimpers escaping, the words she wanted to say died in her throat hearing how sloppy his fingers made her, and the slams of his palm on her clit made her has spun the burning feeling in her stomach was approaching.

Kuroo switch the position of his fingers, his palm turned upwards while his thumb smoothed circles on her clit. Tears poured down her chin dropping into the hoodie. Mouth widened with no sound, but eyes opened with lust and shock. Getting in between her legs, he fingers her until she begins the close them, but his other hand pulls her closer to him giving her no space to run. “Oh..fuck” finally coming up for air she speaks, “look at you precious, taking my long fingers into that tight hole of yours” he teases, feeling her release all over his stomach soaking his v-line and abs. Her hair sticking to face and collarbones.

Giving her clit tiny taps, he watches her body flinch but those pesky moans say otherwise, half-lidded eyes she stares at him, his hands wrapped around her throat she mindlessly bucked her hips into his wanting more. Wanting to feel him inside of her again. He slaps her ass getting her to fully look at him. “I didn't allow you to enter subspace? Did I? Pretty girl” his hungry eyes pending for an answer “answer me princess” he grips her jawline as their eyes meet.

“No, daddy” she pleaded, “good girl, so you can speak, guess I gotta do more to make you dumb” grabbing her waist carrying her to the comfort of their bedroom, throwing her onto the mattress she giggles at how fast he removes his sweatpants, her sweet giggles turn into melodic moans while he stretches her out. Though she already came by his cock, he still felt so big to her.

“Oh look at you, baby, your puffy lips merely hugging around my fat fucking cock, you cant take me?” he nitpicked her she shake her head tugging him in closer by his waist, “I can take it please give it to me” desperately she begged, his hands planted on each side of her waist she held onto him, eyes concentrated on his golden orbs. Lazy steady strokes into her sticky cunt, he was squirming inside of her just by the lewd chimes of filling her up. Thrusting his cock into her balls deep her vision is colored white, with her mouth scarcely parted. The quivers in her legs made kuroo chew his lower lip, stroking her cheek as the tears fell down he pumps himself into her watching her tits bounce and her shaky breath as she tries to moan out his name.

Putting both her legs around his waist, he dips into her slamming his length into her repeatedly, the sounds of her ass bouncing off his abs filled the air as he swallowed her moans on his mouth kissing her feverishly she grabbed his hands interloping them before he pinned them on the mattress. Pulling away he held his forehead on hers. “You're such a good girl for me, Taking my fucking dick. Let me hear you baby I wanna hear those sweet melodies” cupping her face with one hand while the other rubs circles to her clit a gasp slipping from her lips. Her ears were burning and her stomach felt tight. Kuroo could feel her tensing around him, so he increased his pace getting her to cry out his name.

“Kuroo..” she whined, tears falling onto his thumb, wiping it away slowly “fuck yeah baby, moan again” his thumb pulling her lower lip from her teeth, she kept moaning and panting his name, and announcing she was close. Looking down she saw the rim of white surrounding her cock. Never has this happened to her and it made her so turned on. Kuroo followed her eyes slowing smiling at how she creamed all over him. “Fuck princess, you creaming all over my dick? You're so goddamn beautiful you know that?”, his hands placed neatly on her waist squirming from the stimulation “gimme another one, let me see that beautiful face you make” holding her jaw in his hands while the other pressed down on her stomach feeling himself bulging her stomach. A sadistic smirk planted on his lips watching her squirm.

“Oh? Did I just find a new way to please you, princess? , you're so cute when you're flustered” her ears fallen deaf to his teasing while she came all over him, twitching around his cock that was slowly pumping inside of her, tears streaming down her eyes onto the pillow. “Oh no princess, I can't have you going dumb on me now, I'm not done” wrapping his hands around her neck, he forced her to look into his eyes, placing her legs on his shoulders folding her knees to her shoulders. “Oh fuck..” she finally spoke

“Oh yeah?, I'm going to fuck you real nice princess” kuroo kissed the tears away from her face she held his face in the palm of her hands, as he left tender kisses on them, aggressive pumps, as he folded her into mating press, she began hiccuping from the stimulation kuroo kissed over her forehead and nose to keep her from blanking out, but soon he was starting to feel his stomach clench, as he was drawing near his orgasm. “Fuck princess, look at you taking my cock like that, yeah you're a good girl? Taking that big cock in your tight cunt” his dirty praises swelling her head.

She clutched onto his face kissing him sloppily, “let me hear you come again baby, I love your fucking moans, come with me” he lowered her legs so they were around his waist, her fingernails rigged into his shoulder, as he swirled circles onto her clit “daddy... I'm coming fuck please please” she whispered, tears flowing down to the pillow. “Go ahead princess” she practically screamed through her orgasm feeling her legs quiver underneath him. Kuroo pressed his tip into her hole coming and painting her entrance.

Their chests heaving up and down, looking at him through her lidded eyelashes, she could bear to move. She tried, but her body felt so heavy, a sudden pride coarse through kuroo’s veins, watching his cum leak from her slutty hole, he kissed her forehead, before lifting her up towards the bathroom.

“If you're thinking I can stand after that to shower you're insane baby” she joked, his lips forming a thin smirk as he sat her on the toilet, “who said we were taking a shower sweetheart” taking the bath bomb he's been hiding from her he turns on the water, looking back her face shimmered in the afterglow of passionate sex, she smiled back at him. “You must love me a lot to still think I'm pretty while peeing, and that my hair is fucked up and I probably look all sweaty and gross” pondering over to her he grabs her chin lifting it up to his lips.

“I love every single thing about you, no matter what you're beautiful to me” pecking her lips she smiled into the kiss, “i counted all my lucky stars for you” heading back towards the tub, he turns the water off smiling at the rose petals. Lifting up the love of his life, he sets her in the tub her gasp of excitement seeing the snacks placed on a table with bottles of her favorite drink.

“Baby..” she pouts, kuroo’s lips finds a way to her cheeks “what's this for?” she giggled in his embrace, his fingers carding hair behind her ear. “It's Valentine's day babygirl, you thought I wouldn't do anything for you?”

“It’s our first one as well, of course I want to celebrate it with you” tender kisses are planted on her cheek and temple “I love you princess” he hums in her neck

“I love you too, thank you for making this day special it means a lot to me” turning around she sits on his lap, giving him intimate kisses while his fingers held her tight by the waist, he wanted this forever, the thought of that ring he hide in their shared bedroom made the adrenaline burst through his veins. If she were to say yes, he could drop to his knees and cry, he loved her so much, he couldn’t wait. He needed to ask her right now.

Redden nose touching her nimble fingers caressing his shoulders “princess?” He was nervous, he felt his chest breaking into pieces with each thump. When her eyes gazed into his he felt his throat closing in. He was so confident, but the mere sight of her makes his knees weak. “Will you marry me?” He felt her nerves tighten, her eyes blown open slightly, but she replaced it with a smile.

“Yes” she cried, now it was his turn to be shocked, she said yes? He thought to himself, cupping her face with his damp palms he couldn’t breathe but he needed to kiss her again and again, until it registered. She said yes!! His brain screamed to him. Wiping her tears with his thumb he whispered above her lips.

“Fuck I love you, I promise I’ll make you happy for the rest of your life”

She smiled “I believe you, because you’re doing right now, and you’ve always have, I love you kuroo I can’t wait to marry you”

[litaskick]

Yoooo can u do a pat mcafee jealousy imagine with a wrestling reader

my requests are open, request here - who i write for - request rules -

warnings: i don’t think any

a/n: first pat fic, i honestly don't know if this is good

genre: i guess leaning more on the fluff side?

pairing: pat mcafee x fem!reader

gender/pronouns: she/her

summary: Pat gets jealous after you partner up with one of the top guys of SmackDown for your new storyline.

I'm All Yours

You looked out the car window, your arm propping up your head. You took a quick glance over at Pat, silently rolling your eyes. He had been an asshole since SmackDown had ended tonight. It came out of nowhere really, he was in a really good mood before the show had started. You know, his usual self, joking around with you as you got ready for the night  ahead. Pat had performed your usual pre-show ritual too, peppering you faces with kisses, accompanied with a cheeky smack on the butt before he left for commentary. However after the show, he was rather cold, brushing you off when you tried to celebrate your huge win tonight with him. You had managed to win the SmackDown Women's Championship with the help of your new onscreen partner, none other than the tribal chief, Roman Reigns. You had glanced over at him on commentary when you had won, and you noticed the weird look on his face, but you assumed that you had just looked over at him at the wrong time. But clearly, you hadn't, because obviously, he was in a mood tonight. And even worse, you guys were riding to the next city for the next 4 hours. Usually, you loved riding with Pat, obviously, you were a couple for a reason. But tonight, you wished that you would have just caught a ride to the next town with Charlotte. 

"What's your deal, why are you looking out the window?" Pat finally spoke up.

You scoffed. "What my deal? More like what's your deal."

He looked over at you briefly. "What the hell do you mean?" Pat denies.

"You've been an asshole since after the show." You argued. 

"No I haven't." He brushed off.

You sat completely up straight now, looking over at Pat. "Yes, you have. You didn't even congratulate me on winning my title, nor did you even send me a smile from commentary when I won." 

Pat huffed. "I'm not entitled to smile at you from over there." 

You just shook your head, looking out the window again. "I should have just caught a ride with Charlotte." You spoke quietly.

"I'm shocked that you didn't catch a ride with Roman." Pat muttered.

Your head turned to look at him. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing." He mumbled, keeping his eyes on the road.

"Pat." You said knowingly.

"I said I'm shocked that you didn't catch a ride with Roman." He said more clearly.

"Wait why-" You started to question, but then you realized.

"Pat, you're jealous." You claimed.

“I am not, why would I be jealous?” He denied.

“You’re jealous of Roman.” 

“No-“ Pat tried to deny again.

“Pat.” You said knowingly.

“Fine, you caught me.” He sighed.

“Hon, you have no reason to be jealous of Roman.” You assured.

“I know, but having to watch you in a storyline with him every week will do that to a guy. I mean c’mon, he’s Roman Reigns.” Pat explained.

“I know, but you’re Pat Mcafee, and you’re the only guy I have my eyes on.” You told him, placing your hand on top of his free one.

He quickly glanced over at you, a small smile on your face.

“You know all of that stuff with Roman is just acting for the show.” You said.

“I know, I know. I guess I just don’t like the idea of someone else having my girl.” Pat admitted.

“And you don’t have to worry about sharing me, I’m all yours.” You told him truthfully, placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

“You shouldn’t be saying stuff like that when we’re in the car, sweetheart.” Pat smirked at you.

You lightly slapped him on the arm. “You’re so dirty minded.”

He laughed. “I’m just kidding.” Pat said, bringing your hand up to his lips to place a kiss on it.

[notnctu]

haechan: the cocky | vol 2

━ welcome home to the housemating smut series :)

☆ click the link above to read background info about this housemate!

☆ GENRE: smut, pwp ☆ DETAILS: fem!reader, college!au, housemate!au ☆ WARNINGS: explicit language, dirty talking, nicknames, dom!hyuck, penetration, oral (giving & receiving), slight degradation?, mentions of exhibitionist kink? ☆ WC: 3.6k  ☆ SYNOPSIS: after receiving haechan’s text messages, you hurry up to his room and the sexual tension is thicker than you can ever imagine. 

☆ AUTHORS NOTE: read vol 1 here if u havent already :) theres no plot yall its just smut,, this one a filthy one ha ha skjdhfgieas

When you enter Haechan’s room, his back faces you as he sits comfortably in his expensive gaming chair, clicking furiously at his mouse and practically abusing the poor device. “Why are you so worked up?” Your voice causes him to perk up, removing an ear from his headset. 

“Mark fucking sucks at this game.” Haechan rolls his eyes as he speaks directly into his mic and Mark’s tiny muffled voice shouts back at him. 

Leaning into Haechan’s face, his eyes leave his monitor momentarily to intently watch your actions. Your fingers grab hold of the built in mic and speaking lowly, you greet the other boy through the receiver. “Hi Mark.”

Haechan raises an eyebrow at your seductive tone and the happy smirk on your face when you hear Mark stammer back a faint, “h-hello, y/n.” 

“Mark, I gotta go.” Before even letting Mark protest and throw a fit, he’s hanging up the call and forfeiting his winning streak to finally finish what you two had started. You’re laying on Haechan’s bed with eyes that eat him right up, a look of lust and desire. 

His gaze bounces between the open door and the way your thin shirt does absolutely nothing to hide how erect your nipples have become. His signature face of disbelief: tongue in cheek and rolling his eyes, paired with a small scoff. 

“What? Are you cold or something?” He snickers, getting up to close the door.

“No... I’m just..” Propping up on your elbows, you glance briefly down at your shirt and then, away at the ground shamelessly. 

“Aroused? Turned on?” Haechan taunts as he leans down to hover above you, his fingers toying with the ends of the thin fabric. As much as you’re trying to avoid eye contact, he doesn’t allow for you to shy away for long.

“Maybe.” You gulp the pooling spit in the back of your throat, the tension rising in the room. “I came upstairs like you told me too.” Pouting, he finally has you fixated on him with a thumb on your chin. 

Making eye contact with him is not only incredibly intimate, but there is something mesmerizing and comforting in the way Haechan looks at you. “Right, my good girl did what she was told. How much longer can she keep that up?” His whisper is hot against your skin, but he doesn’t lean in any more. 

“Don’t test me, Hyuck.” You snap back gently, crossing your arms across your chest and almost immediately, Haechan pushes you lightly onto the bed. You yelp at the boldness, knowing that your bratty side might have edged him on.

“Hyuck....? Baby, we haven’t even started yet.” He smirks, and you wish for nothing more than to wipe it off his face. He has the absolute confidence to play with you all night if he wanted to. Cocky motherfucker. 

“Do something, please.” The whine in your voice catches his attention, only fueling his ego more than it has already inflated. 

“What does my pretty baby want me to do?” Haechan has the full audacity to sit back in his chair, legs spread wide and arms resting behind his head. He’s left you on the bed practically untouched, yet the moment you sit up, a small pool of wetness rushes in your panties.

He’s done nothing, but your body reacts to him too strongly for you to admit. “I want you to give me a kiss.” You mumble.

However, Haechan leaves no room for a pause. “Speak up.” His voice is low and dark as he watches you squirm in your shorts, your legs rubbing together for some friction. He just loves how needy he can get you to be.

“Give me a kiss.” A little louder this time, all the while being mindful at how thin the walls are. Haechan patiently waits for you to finish your beg, “please.”

He pats his lap for you to come sit, then opens his arms to invite you into his embrace. Your legs fall on either side of his thighs and his hands rests on your waist. Haechan peers up at the pout that hasn’t left your face and gently smiles. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

There’s a sense of rivalry when he uses that nickname, holding less of a soft implication than when he calls you baby. “You’re taking forever.” You groan, rocking against him with a frustrated whine.

However, he holds you steady by your hips and chuckles mockingly, “it wouldn’t be fun if I just gave it to you. I’m giving you more of an experience to remember the next time you want to rub one out.”

“Trust me, I’ll be fast forwarding these parts in my brain.” Rolling your eyes, your hands find themselves lightly on his chest. He feels rather solid through his black shirt, “you’ve been bulking up?”

“Yeah. Can you tell? Johnny has been waking my ass up early in the morning to go to the gym with him because Jaehyun has class.” Haechan presses you up against his torso and you’re impressed at how sturdy he feels.

“So that’s why we have two jugs of protein powder taking up counter space. Doyoung and I were concerned at how much the other two were consuming, but I guess the portion includes you now.” Your hands wrap around his neck to pull him unbelievably closer, the tips of your noses touching now.

Haechan stares at you with hooded eyes and breath mixing with your own. “What does it taste like?” Your question seems to hold a sexual innuendo, or it could be the tension in the air as you both try your hardest from devouring each other’s lips right then and there.

“Mmh, tastes like shit. Rather taste something else instead.” Haechan licks his lips and tilts his head only slightly. His mind is clouded with lustful, heavy thoughts of feeling your plushy lips against his own. And the possible taste of your tongue lapping with his brings him much excitement as well. 

“Should I try some?” The power has slightly shifted into your hands as Haechan seems to be in a trance from your proximity and sensual drop in tone. But you’re both wrapped up in each other’s scent of shampoo and it’s enough to drive you both hungry for one another. 

“Want your lips around something else.” His thumb pulls your bottom lip down just gently before slipping it into your open mouth. Your tongue circles his finger, slowly sucking to mimic the feeling of his cock. It sends tingles down to your lower abdomen and a small moan erupts from the back of Haechan’s throat. 

Something pokes at your inner thigh and without needing to look down, you already know how turned on Haechan has gotten. He won’t be able to wait it out anymore. “So pretty.” Haechan coos as he drops his finger from your lips. “Do you still want your kiss, baby?” 

“Of course.” You lean in thinking that Haechan is going to finally give you a good smooch on the lips, but he picks you up and tosses you onto the bed. He’s discarding your shorts and underwear, peeling it off your legs and tossing it somewhere in a corner. 

He spreads your legs wide open, “holy fuck, you’re dripping.” And you’re so close to telling him to stop exaggerating until he gathers slick from your hole and it unleashes a small waterfall cascading onto the bed sheets. “Since when were you this easily aroused?” 

Before you can retaliate, Haechan softly kisses your clit and slowly licks a long strip up your cunt. You arch into him, his lips pressing against you just a bit harder than the first time. Eyes are locked in on yours as he flicks delicate licks at your bundle of nerves. “Good girls get the best kinds of kisses.” 

He will never be able to get enough of your taste or your legs squirming at the jolts of pleasure that run down them. The fact that stands is that Haechan inexplicably loves pleasuring women and performing cunnilingus, that’s undeniable. But there’s something very special about the way your body reacts to his smallest gestures and sensual words, so responsive and almost like, your body knows how much it wants him. 

And if you two hadn’t been so cordial and polite about living with each other in the beginning and considerate of your other housemates, he would’ve fucked you a long time ago. It always felt as if Haechan was walking on thorns around you, making sure he didn’t cross the lines of making you feel uncomfortable. 

Nonetheless, your pajama shorts do a terrible job at covering you up or the small moments when your shirt would ride up your stomach, he always found his stares to linger. And not to mention, all the moments he has walked by to catch a glimpse of you masturbating. Truthfully, he’d been masturbating to the thought of you too and only to find out that you shared the same interest in him. 

You suppress your moans with your hand, afraid to risk the chance of getting caught by your other housemates. Nevertheless, your muffled moans encourage him to lick harder, building a quick rhythm. “Hyuck, please fuck me.” 

It’s agonizing the more he edges you closer to your release. Haechan is addicted to lapping your endless flow of juices that he almost chooses to ignore your breathless plea. He lets go and the knot of pleasure in your stomach dissipates for the time being, your chest rising and falling rapidly to catch your breath.

“I thought you lost your ability to speak for a second.” Haechan doesn’t mean it as a joking statement, it’s meant to instill slight humiliation in you and with a bit of a teasing tone in his darkness.

You don’t take his words to heart, “I can speak and I know what I want.” Your voice is brighter than before, until Haechan’s grin turns mischievous and he’s plotting his next few words carefully. 

“Use your smart words and tell me what you want then.” Taking off his clothes, his shaft slaps against his stomach with an angry red tip leaking precum.

The sight of his dick has you clenching around nothing and it’s obvious where your focus has shifted to. You mindlessly take off your shirt, “for a computer science major, you sure like words a lot.” 

“For someone who’s ruining my sheets, you sure like to verbally under compensate how much you want me.” Haechan rubs his tip at your entrance to gather lubrication, a small whine escapes his lips as he’s trying his best to hold back from ramming into your wet cunt.

“Hyuck, please. I want you to fuck me speechless.” A sparkle catches in his eye as he’s gleaming at how the dirty words spill from your pretty mouth. Pulling you up, he holds your head steady and lightly taps your lips with his tip.

“Speechless? I guess you won’t be able to whine with my dick in your mouth.” And slowly, you invite his hot shaft into your warmth and the saltiness hits your palette. A long string of profanities fill the air when you lick the underside of his tip and hollow your cheeks to suck more of him.

“Do you think you can take the whole thing?” He moans and it shocks you how raspy his voice suddenly got. His hand is rests on the back of your head lightly, patting and smoothing your hair lovingly. If it isn’t for that lost lustful look in his eyes that represent an innocent curiosity, you wouldn’t have awarded his request. 

Opening your throat, he slowly guides you further down his length. Haechan’s reactions are ungodly satisfying as he throws his head back toward the ceiling and instantly tightens his grip in your hair. 

“Fuck, fuck. Okay, I’m done messing around.” He manages to chuckle playfully, pulling you off his dick as a string of saliva draws from the disconnect. Pulling you by your hair, he tilts your head upward at him and he leans down to kiss you: open mouth, tongues lapping, spit mixing.

The kiss ignites a flame in your chest being that it’s probably one of the hottest kisses you’ve ever experienced. Haechan’s dominance is caring, yet strong enough to remind you just how rough he has the ability to be. 

“Lay on your side.” You do as you’re told as Haechan unravels a condom to slip on. A feeling of excitement bubbles up in your core, you’re finally getting fucked. It’s not the first time you and Haechan have done penetration, but it’s definitely not enough times to satisfy your lust for him.

With your body facing the door, Haechan lays down behind you, a hand on your hip to press your ass against his shaft. “How cute. We’re spooning.” He taunts menacingly and reaching around to rub your swollen clit. 

You yelp and Haechan covers your mouth instantly. You’re a moaning mess in his hands as his fingers work magic stimulation down below. Every squirm has you bumping your ass up into his hard on. 

Just as his tip enters your wet hole, a knock on the door has you both halting your movements. Your heart is racing at the interruption and it’s not going to look too good with Haechan’s dick barely up your cunt and hand hovering over your clit. There will be no lie that can get you two out of this naked situation.

“Haechan, can I borrow your speaker?” It’s the voice of Jaemin. Of all the times that he actually comes home, you’re midway having sex with Haechan. 

It doesn’t seem to bother Haechan though, maybe a bit agitated that someone interrupted the tension, but overall he doesn’t seem phased. Then, you remember all the times you’ve knocked on the other boys’ doors during their hookups and it’s gotten to the point that no one really cares. “For what!?” 

“To use in the shower.” A jiggle on the doorknob panics you, but Haechan is lifting your leg in the air and enters you fully without a warning. You bite back a moan as Haechan buries his face into your neck. The initial stretch from his girth stings with pleasure and you relax into him when you adjust to his size. “Why is your door locked?” 

“Fuck, is this making you more wet?” Haechan whispers lowly into your ear and a smile grows against your skin.

“Shut up.” You mumble, clenching around him every time Jaemin tries to open the door. He starts moving his hips into you, long thrust that jolt your body every time he enters. 

Haechan laughs, “it’s in the bathroom already, leave me alone! I’m with someone.” He’s looking down at your eyes rolling to the back of your head and the tight grip you have on the sheets. You feel all of him, his cock fills you up to the brim, grazing upon your sweet spot. 

Jaemin scoffs on the other side, “okay. Use protection, kids.” And his shadow disappears from under the door. Haechan removes his hand and his hot moans fill your ears.

“No wonder why you leave the door fucking open. You want us to see you, don’t you?” His hips ram harder into your pussy, rougher and faster than before. The soreness begins to occupy your lower regions from how much Haechan stretches you. His dirty words aid you closer to your release. “Imagine if I didn’t lock the door and Jaemin saw me balls deep in you. You’d like that, huh? What a slut.” 

Your legs feel like jelly as a familiar exhilaration surges through your limbs. “Speechless now, aren’t you?” Haechan smirks and drops your leg. Hands hold you by your waist as he bottoms out, his balls slapping your thigh slightly. Once he’s nestled in deep, he starts rubbing circles on your clit once again and you’re squeezing around him so well that he doesn’t need to move. 

The added sensation brings you to your edge, along with the feeling of fullness. Without a fail, he always makes sure he takes care of you first. “I’m gon-- cum.” Words are jumbled in your scattered, empty brain. The release is on the tip of your tongue, the tips of your toes, Haechan’s rhythm on your bud doesn’t falter.

“Cum on my dick, baby. I want to feel you lose control.” His final encouragement leads you to your demise as your pussy clenches around him sporadically and your legs shaking from the pleasure. But it doesn’t stop, Haechan starts fucking you through your orgasm, so fast that it almost has you crying out of the intensity. His nails dig into your skin. 

“Oh-- shit! Hyuck, I--” Haechan slams your hips down to match his and you’re holding onto the sheets for your life. The toe curling pleasure overwhelms you and you can’t tell, but you’re cumming again. It just never seems to stop.

With a last grunt and full thrust, you feel his dick pumping inside your walls. He kisses your shoulder tenderly and smooths over the moon crescents he left, “shit. I’m sorry for calling you out like that.”

“It’s fine. It was hot.” He pulls out and an emptiness disappoints you. Turning around to face him, you latch on and give him the biggest hug. “But I really just am forgetful! I don’t leave it open on purpose....”

“Baby, you say that, but do you also forget that you live with five other horny men?” He kisses your temples and sits you both up.

“That’s why I do it when you guys aren’t home.” Getting up, you start putting on Haechan’s shirt and slipping on your panties. “Do you think Jaem is done showering?”

“Probably, that guy uses 2 in 1 shampoo and body wash so he just lathers and rinses.” Haechan ties the condom and tosses it into the trash can. He slips on a pair of fresh briefs and starts removing his soiled bed sheets. “Come back and help me make my bed when you’re done.” 

Nodding, you slyly walk out of Haechan’s room. You turn the knob as quietly as you can and shut the door softly. When you spin around, Jaemin walks down the hall with a towel around his naked shoulders and his black hair wet from his shower. His toned body is glistening with droplets as his sweatpants hang low on his hips and the waistband of his underwear peek out. 

You’re so distracted by his appearance that you don’t realize he’s caught you leaving Haechan’s room. “Is that Haechan’s shirt?” He quizzes you, a smirk twitching his lips automatically at your doe eyed expression. “And are you not wearing pants, y/n?” 

“I see you’re done with your shower.” You say quickly and you dash away to the bathroom. The moment you shut the door, you’re surprised by a random girl on the toilet.

“Sorry!” You both yell, covering your eyes at the sudden intrusion on both ends. 

“I didn’t realize there wasn’t a lock on the door.” She says and you turn to face the door to give her some privacy.

“Yeah, it’s been broken for awhile now. We usually just put a sticky note on the door to show that it’s preoccupied.” You don’t even question who she is, denoting that it’s either Jaehyun or Johnny’s lady friend. “I’ll just wait outside.” 

“Wait, do you live with Johnny?” She asks and truthfully, you’re not ready to go back outside in any chance that you’ll bump into Jaemin again. The bathroom is where you intended to hide until enough time is passed, while also doing your business. 

“Yeah. We’re housemates.” 

“Ah, that’s comforting to know that there’s another girl here. I thought it was just a house of guys, so I was a bit worried coming over.” Her voice sounds reassured and you’re exhaling out all the anxious air you had pent up since seeing Jaemin.

“That’s good. Men, am I right?” You try laughing to lighten the mood and surprisingly through the steamy suffocation, she giggles back. 

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve never seen so many bottles of AXE body spray in one bathroom.” Living in a house full of men, you realize you slightly miss the bathroom talks with your girl friends. 

“Look in the tub, there are four bottles of men body wash, yet they always use mine! It’s a hoax.” You announce excitedly, despite still facing the door.

“I have the same one! I fucking knew Johnny smelled like white strawberries and mint, but I couldn’t tell if the scent was from me or him.” 

Maybe sometimes, it isn’t so bad living with a group of attractive men. You get to laugh with their hookups in the bathroom! And before you know it, Johnny is knocking on the bathroom door to the fit of giggles and questioning why there are two voices. 

“I thought you had left without saying goodbye.” He says.

“Damn, the sex was that bad.” You joke and Johnny fakes a laugh through the door.

“Let me know if Haechan is any better, y/n.” You gasp at his statement, but don’t respond. The flushing of the toilet and the sink running being the only noises in the room. You’re stunned. Knowing Jaemin’s big mouth, he can’t keep a secret to save his life.

“It’s nice meeting you, y/n.” Johnny’s hookup gives you a warming hug before leaving and when she opens the door to join him, you give Johnny the middle finger as your form of response. 

“Nice meeting you too!” You yell back to her and shut the door to finally do your business. 

Great, now everyone knows you fucked your housemate. 

[2ynjns]

enhypen with a cute and small s/o headcanon

pairings: ot7 x gn!reader

word count:

notes: fluff!

request states “enha reaction to a short and cute s/o please thank you"

heeseung

this boy is tall and we all know that

so comparing to u he could come off as a giant

he also gives off domestic vibes

a whole boyfriend material

he doesn’t really give off clingy vibes but with you it’s different

he would protect you at all cost

but it’s not obvious

he would watch you from afar while you do something by yourself but as soon as he sees you struggle he would immediately help you

"i got it i got it"

he doesn’t baby you in public but he babies you SOOO much when you’re alone

he teases you yet he’s so sweet about it at the same time

would call you cute names like “little one” or “little kitten” because you remind him of a small cat

jay

oh my goodness

YOURE HIS BABY PERIOD

he would baby you every single time it actually gets tiring

you’re so small comparing to him his favorite thing he always does is carrying you

either like a baby or giving you piggy back rides

he teases you because when you sit on the chair, your feet doesn’t reach the floor

would always compare his height from yours

then you’d get pissed

"jay shut up" 👊

like damn he didn’t need to slap it on you that you're short af tf

besides that tho he loves cuddling with you because you’re like a little doll

although you're adorably cute you two always fight and wrestles

and though you're smol you'd always win

and you're convinced that he purposely lets you win bc he's strong af but bc you're his someone ofc he's gonna give you the W

jake

the sweetest boy EVER??

he doesn't tease you about your height!!

mainly because he doesn't want you to get insecure or he doesn't want you to feel bad about your height

he would look at you with so much sparkles in his eyes

like that "omg you're so heckin adorably smol" typa in love look

just like other bfs out there, he would help you reach high stuff

and he's not gonna be a jerk about it

he is genuinely sooo nice

giggles at every single little adorable thing you do

one time you sneezed, tho no matter if it was an ugly sneeze or a cite sneeze,,, he giggles so much

its kinda concerning

"hehehee you're so cute"

"i'm literally having terrible allergies and you're calling that cute??"

but whatever right thats okay

as long as you make him happy,

you'd sneeze from allergies from him i guess 🙄

sunghoon

like jake, he would look at you with heart eyes

but he wouldn't make it too obvious like heeseung

one time you're playing on your phone sitting on the floor

and sunghoon was just watching you from the couch all smiling by himself

like little smirk/smile that he does

sunghoon simp wbk

"AARRRGGGHHH I LOST AGAIN FFFFFF" you screamed

and the way you screamed was so cute

you looked like this: ╰（‵□′）╯

then you heard sunghoon giggling so hard

then he sat on the floor with you and rubbed the back of your head

"you lost again?"

then you pout "yes >:("

he giggles again then he pulls you into a hug

"it's okay, i'll teach you"

then he pulls you it between his lap and you'd hold the phone together

sunoo

ayo

is a baby himself

a whole babie couple

if you're whiny, he's even whinier

and shy af

but thats okay because you guys are the cutest couple

so many cuddle and cheek kiss exchange

a day of you hanging out with each other consists of you cuddling or doing home activities

and because you're cute like him yet tinier

imo sunoo appears to be smaller than he actually is

because we all know this boy is TALL

he's 5'10 and you're def WAY shorter than 5'10, it hurts

regardless, your height we would cling on you in every way possible

he would cling on you like a koala, or he'll cling on you like a lost child

like i said earlier, babier than you

but thats okay because his hugs and cuddles make up for it.

jungwon

LOVES TO TEASE YOU

like jay, but worse

he could be sweet but he's definitely meaner than sweet

"HAHAHA YOU'RE SO SHORT >:D"

you'd look at him like (｡•́︿•̀｡)

puppy eyes

look jungwon you made your baby sad HHH hHH HH H H h h H

he's immediately apologize

"i didn't mean it !! o(TヘTo)"

you'd just sit there hugging your knees because he made you sad

then he's feel even worse

"i'm sorrryyyyy" (ಥ﹏ಥ)

you'd resort to making yourself feel better and the other members are gonna notice

"don't make y/n sad! you're a bad bf!" heeseung would tease

aaaargghh

anyways he'd treat you out because he made you super sad

buuuTTTT he's def gonna film you eating bc,,, well you're cute

duh

ni-ki

HELLO???

this boy is yoUNG but TALL

it doesn't matter if you're older or younger than him but he's more like a clueless bf

so he would treat you normally

yes you're short, but he's not gonna discriminate you bc of it HJSBDd

a sweet baby

"do you want to eat?" "do you need help?" "do you need to grab it? i can help you."

would tease you a *little* bit

"look, you're not even past my shoulders hehehe"

gets a crispy smack from you

your tall giant helper

"ni-ki, can you get the plate for me?" "ni-ki, can you reach the frame?" "ni-ki--"

"okay okay i got it"

would compare heights

no matter what

he will not be fazed, there's no day when he WONT compare height

"do you sleep? i heard sleep helps."

"shut up riki, just 'cause youre tall youre gonna treat me like this... AND YES I DO SLEEP"

[spidernerdsblog]

Hey can I ask a blurb for MMIH series where Nathan is a complete mamma's boy...ntg much just domestic fluff and oh yeah can u some team fights like Tom and Leah are a team and Nathan and his mom are team? Love u and ur work💓💖💖

Nathan is a complete mama's boy no doubt in that. Thank you so much <333 Hope you like this. Let me know what you think.

Match made in Hell

MAMA'S BOY

Pairing : Mob! Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings : fluff

Saturday nights were usually family game nights where you and Tom would take your time off from work to spend time with Nathan and Nailah playing games as per their choice. Tonight they had decided to play pictionary for which Tom had set up a white board in the middle of the living room.

“Ok let me just state out the rules first” you announced standing near the board as Tom went and sat down on the couch with Nate and Leah “there are going to be two teams”

“Mommy is going to be in my team!” Nathan shouted instantly which made you and Tom break into a laugh.

“What about me bud?” Tom asked, pouting his lips.

“Uhh…” Nate looked at him thoughtfully before shaking his head “no only mommy”

“You’re breaking my heart now little man” he said dramatically, placing his hand on his chest.

“You can be in my team daddy” Leah chirped.

“Oh thank you love, at least my princess loves me” Tom pulled her in his lap, pressing a soft kiss on her cheek as she erupts into giggles

“Stop being so jealous, Tom. My baby boy just loves his mom a little more than his dad” you shrugged nonchalantly.

“Yeah I can see that” he chuckled lightly as you resumed to explain the rules.

“Ok, moving on. I’m keeping the cards with the words written on it over here” you said placing a deck of cards on the coffee table “each team will get three minutes to draw and guess the correct answer. Max points are ten whichever team gets it first is the winner. The team to go up first will be decided by rock, paper and scissors. Leah, Nate come over here” you instructed as both of them got off the couch and stood in front of you.

“Rock, paper, scissors!” they recited tapping their little fists against their palms before throwing their fists open. Leah had thrown a rock and Nate a scissor so clearly Leah won.

“See, we are already winning,” Tom commented.

“Ok Leah you go first” you told her and went to sit on the couch. Nailah picked up a card from the stack and drew a decent picture of the given word on the board with a marker.

“It’s a tree!” Tom exclaimed, his face beaming with excitement. This is why you loved game night. It brings out the inner child of your husband while playing with the kids.

“Correct daddy!” Leah clapped her hands in joy.

“And we got the first point as well” Tom bragged and turns to Nate “think again buddy you might wanna be on the winning side”

“No I'll be with mommy” he nuzzled into you as you chuckle, running your fingers through his soft brown curls.

“You’re really a mama’s boy,” Tom smiled, shaking his head.

“Takes one to know one” you teased

“Hey I wasn’t a mama’s boy!” he retorted.

“Oh please, your mom told me everything. How you used to run to her for every little thing” you snickered.

“That’s absolutely not true,”

“Ok we can discuss it later on, let's focus on the game for now. Nate it’s your turn” you said as Nate ran to pick a card and began to draw on the board. He drew two squares which you roughly figured out to be a book.

“Is it a book?” you said with a little uncertainty in your voice.

“Yes it is!” he confirmed with a bright smile.

After a few rounds your team was currently at 8 points whereas Tom’s was at 9. Tom was standing near the board as he picked up a card and looked at the word. After giving a little thought he drew three zzZ increasing in size from small to big. Leah looked at it with furrowed eyebrows, trying to figure out what her dad drew on the board.

“It is the letter Z,” she said after some time.

“No, think again Leah it’s easy”

“Buzzing of honeybees?” she guessed.

“C’mon love, think a little harder. If you get this we will get 10 points and win the game” Tom encouraged her.

“Hurry up guys only 30 seconds more” you reminded them looking down at your watch.

“I don’t understand daddy,” she huffed, pouting with a frown on her face.

“Ok time’s up” you said.

“The word was sleep” Tom sighed in disappointment.

“Seriously, you think a five year old can understand what a bunch of floating Zs mean?” you scoffed and walked up to the board.

“How will I know that?!”

“Ok it’s my turn now move” you shooed him away and picked up a card. You then went to draw a circle with tiny triangles inside it and Nate was quick to figure it out.

“Chocolate chip cookies! My favourite!” he shrieked out in excitement.

“That’s absolutely correct bubs” you smiled and with that you scored another point which led to a tie between your teams with equal points.

“Since both the teams are now at a tie with 9 points respectively so in this last round only a single word will be drawn on the board whoever guesses the correct answer first is the winner” you declared and walked back over to sit beside Tom. Nate picked up a card and showed it to Leah as she turned around and quickly drew a small oval on the board.

“That’s a golf ball!” Tom blurted out without a second thought.

“No daddy!”,"That’s not a golf ball!” you and Leah said unanimously when it suddenly struck you.

“Oh, oh it’s an egg! It’s an egg!” you exclaimed with a high pitched voice.

“Mommy is correct,” Leah remarked.

“What?! That doesn’t look like an egg!” Tom argued.

“Now don’t be a sore loser Tom, no golf ball on earth is oval in shape” you chided.

“Yay mommy we won!” Nate came running and climbed up your lap throwing his hands around you in a hug.

“Yes we did honey” you caressed the back of his head lovingly, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“Next time I’ll have mommy in my team” Leah pouted with a grumpy face.

“Aww peanut don’t worry we will surely win the next time” Tom placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

“No mommy always wins, you suck” she grimaced.

“What?” Tom looks at her amused.

“Wait a minute, where did you learn that from?” you raise an eyebrow looking at her with a questioning gaze.

“I-I heard uncle Haz yesterday telling daddy that he sucks at football. Am I in trouble mommy?” Leah fidgeted with her fingers, looking at you innocently with her big brown eyes as you softened your expression.

“No sweetie you are not” you reached out a hand to gently cup her cheek “just don’t say that to anyone else because it’s a bad word ok?”

“Yes, sorry mommy” she mumbled.

“It’s ok baby I’m not angry with you don't worry” you reassured her “but I think I need to have a serious chat with your uncle Haz about the language he has been using around the kids”

Reblogs are appreciated��❤️

[hansolmates]

17 going on 27

summary; one second, you’re sobbing at prom because the most popular guy in school dumps you due to your relationship being a little prank to break your heart. the next? you’re a creative editor at Ego, the hottest young adult fashion magazine. as you try to figure out what’s the deal with this sudden time skip into adulthood, you come across relationships and friendships that are made to be cherished and made to be broken. pairing; photographer!jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, future enemies to lovers, teenage and adulthood angst, time skips from high school!au to late twenties!au, 13 going on 30!au, all your romantic movie tropes come to life! a really big mess honestly, various movie and music references, mentions of sex, use of alcohol, everyone give jin and jimin a big ol hug, language, a surprise guest from the queen of england w/c; 22.6k a/n; it’s that time of the year baby! the time of the year where i binge watch the good ol’ early 2000s romcoms that make absolutely no sense! a huge thank u to @eerieedits​ for making this beautiful banner. vivi got the whole delia’s/claire’s vibe down to a t! 

if you enjoy this fic pls consider giving it a like and a share✨✨✨

March 19th, 2011

Thirty, flirty, and thriving!

You finger the dog-eared magazine, last month’s issue of a shoddy fashion magazine that featured top actress Jennifer Garner on the front cover. Her caramel brown highlights practically glow on the page, blown out and beautiful. You suppress a sigh, you long to be the radiant young woman on the cover. The headline is glittery, sparkly and just begging for attention. 

Swiping a hand through the pages, your eyes are crowded with over-stimulation. Colorful models dressed up in the latest designs, Chanel and Burberry suits you can only dream of, and happy women at the prime of their lives. 

Twenty-seven and in Heaven! You smile wryly at the cheesy rhyme that headlines the following pages, but nevertheless the happy model on the spread does indeed look like they’re in heaven. 

Sure, you’re no shrinking violet. Heck, you don’t even consider yourself painfully average. You may not be on the traditional spectrum of popularity in high school, but you get around and have a wonderful best friend and an even better boyfriend. However given the social classes that preside, you do get those moments where you second guess your life’s position. Good thing high school has an expiration date, and you’re close to the end.  

“Baby Bun, what are you doing?” the magazine is snatched from your grasp, thrown on the table without a care in the world. Jennifer Garner’s hydro-whitened smile gleams tauntingly at you, “reading that junk is gonna mess with your head.” 

Your boyfriend returns from his final suit fitting, his outfit for tonight all pressed and ready to go. He pouts at you, pulling you up by the hand to lead you out of the Men’s Warehouse. Jeon Jungkook. Captain of the lacrosse team, flying by high school with a sports scholarship already in the bag. Eats up attention like plants soak up the sun. Secretly loves taking photographs of his dog and watching Netflix animes at your house. 

“Aren’t you excited for prom?” 

“Excited to listen to LMFAO’s Party Rock Anthem on repeat?” you guaff, “as if.” 

He pinches your arm lightly, “You also forget that we’re gonna tear up the floor to Nicki Minaj’s Superbass.” 

You shrug listlessly, crunching the white plastic closer to your body. 

Before you can suck all the air out of the garment bag, Jungkook carefully extracts it from your grasp, easily holding it between his one arm so he can thread his other hand through yours. “I am excited! It’s just that… Jimin’s not gonna be there and we’re sitting with the Yearbook committee.”

Looking down at the floor you extract your hand from his, slipping into his parent’s Honda Civic. The yearbook committee, meaning you’d be sitting at a table with head editor Jennie and her group of friends. Friends that are popular and pretty, just like Jungkook. 

Jimin is currently on a flight back from Korea due to a family funeral, therefore leaving a seat empty at your prom table. It was only seat that you cared about, other than Jungkook’s. It’s no one’s fault and Jimin of course is doubly upset to miss prom, but without your best friend you’re not sure if you can survive the night. 

One of the few secrets you keep from Jungkook is the fact that Jennie and you aren’t exactly friendly to each other. You don’t know why, maybe it’s the fact that you don’t run the in same friend group or you always win the debate in Civics class, but Jennie clearly expresses her dislike for you as easily as she expresses her love for Jungkook. 

Which makes you incredibly insecure, but Jennie and Jungkook have been friends for longer than you and him have been together, who are you to intervene? 

Jungkook slips in the driver’s seat, but not before pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. 

Right. You’re Jungkook’s girlfriend, and that should matter more than his friendship with Jennie. 

But the smell of his freshly cleaned lacrosse jersey, his duffle bag overflowing with protein powder and unfinished assignments remind you that you have your world and he has his. A conversation about your insecurities could wait until tomorrow. 

“When’s Jimin’s flight?” Jungkook asks, one hand on the steering wheel and the other tapping on your thigh as he pulls out. 

“He’ll be back two hours into the dance,” you report, albeit glumly as you rest your head against the cool window. 

“That sucks,” Jungkook replies, a bit of sadness in his tone, “he has to miss out on his prom night.” 

You shrug, “Prom isn’t everything, it’s about the people you spend it with.” 

“Well then,” he squeezes your thigh, “I’m glad I get to spend it with you.” 

You only have a few hours to get ready until you meet Jungkook at his house for pictures, so when you get dropped off, you tell him that he doesn’t have to get out of the car to escort you into your home. But Jungkook is insistent, putting the car in park and getting out your dress for you with such delicacy that you’re positively sure there’s no wrinkles in the fabric. Taking the dress from his grasp you wish him goodbye and a promise to meet each other later. 

“Wait,” Jungkook is biting his lip, unable to let go of your hand even though you’re already up the stairs. You’re looking down at him, a rarity considering his tall frame. 

“What’s wrong, Kook?” 

“Uh, I was just thinking,” he’s scratching the back of his head, and you soften. The little quirk he has is a sign of insecurity, being the star player Jungkook is forced to exude confidence to a fault. “Maybe, we could skip the prom thing? You said so yourself that prom is about the people you spend it with.” 

Your eyes widen, clutching your dress tighter. “What? Jungkook, that’s ridiculous. Between the both of us we’ve spent a lot of money on the clothes and the tickets.” 

“Right,” he forces a laugh, and you put a hand on your hip to think it out but you can’t quite place what’s going on. “Sorry Bun, I just know how the finale of our favorite anime airs tonight.” 

“You’re so silly,” you chastise, reaching down to pinch his cheek. Normally he hates it, but you can’t help but melt when he leans into your touch a little more. “C’mon, I know suits are stuffy and stuff, but let’s just do this high school rite of passage thing. Afterwards we can go to McDonalds or something and watch the recording.” 

“You’re right,” his face is red, “what was I thinking? Can’t miss out on a night to see my beautiful girlfriend all dressed up.” 

He squeezes your hand one last time, a little too tight for comfort. With a half smile he waves, going into his car and driving off. 

You don’t have time to dwell on his weirdness (and trust when you say that Jungkook is plenty weird and it astounds you how the rest of your class has no idea) so you fly up to your room to get your hair and makeup ready. Your parents greet you excitedly along the way, telling you there’s a package left for you on your vanity.

It’s a plain cardboard box, already cut and unwrapped by your parents for convenience. The address shows it came from Korea, proudly displaying the name of your best friend on the return address. Inside is a beautiful compact, made of brushed gold and pink metal. The makeup inside is a loose glitter from a brand that you don’t recognize, but since it’s a gift from Jimin, you trust his taste. 

I have to be at prom somehow, Jimin’s note on the box reads, don’t overthink and have fun! 

You snort, reading the sticky note over and over in Jimin’s voice. Looking over the shade, you can’t help but grimace at the cliché name. Wishing Dust. The color is a little too white and silvery for your taste, but you’ll wear it in honor of Jimin. 

The dress, the hair, the makeup all come together little by little. You like the ritual of getting ready, building yourself up to the highest order and feeling closer and closer to the beautiful women in magazines. Surprisingly, your favorite part of getting ready is applying the glitter that Jimin gifted you. The puff enclosed is cloud soft, and surprisingly the color doesn’t look too ashen on your skin. The glitter sinks into your skin like a soft butter, accentuating your collarbones and cheeks as if you are glowing from within. 

You smile at yourself in the mirror. A little part of you wishes you could look like this everyday. You wish you could always look and feel this confident, and act mature and graceful. 

A buzzing on your desk stops your wishful thinking, and you frown at the message that lights up your phone. 

Jungkook: sorry bun, but the civic finally broke down and its on its way to car heaven. Could we meet at the party hall instead? We can take pictures there, jennie mentioned yearbook hired a photographer

Disheartened, you send a quick text back saying it’s fine. Any more explanation on your feelings would reveal your disappointment. You don’t know how you’re going to tell your parents that they won’t be taking pictures with your boyfriend anytime soon. So you suck it in and take solo pictures for your parents and some group selfies. This is just one bump in the night, the rest of it should be smooth sailing. 

But when your parents drop you off at the venue your eyes first land on a beat up Honda Civic. You’re pretty sure car heaven isn’t at the prom. 

The rest of your entrance is a blur as you go through every corner of the venue, searching for your boyfriend. You’re clutching his matching flower in your hand, a beautiful red rose with baby’s breath circling around it, all clutched together in a black silk ribbon. You wonder what kind of flower he bought you. 

But it’s nearly impossible to find him. Not at the photobooth, the appetizer buffet, or in the lobby. It’s not until you’re sweating at the brow and nearing the corner of the venue that you do find him.

Lips locked, kissing Jennie. 

The plastic encasing Jungkook’s boutonniere drops, clanging to the ground. 

Whispers of you circle the air, meeting your ears and confirming all your insecurities. 

“Oh my god, I knew Jungkook was cheating on her!” 

“Wow, how pathetic. She ran all the way to prom alone to see this?” 

“I thought his girlfriend was a smart girl. How did she not know that their relationship was a bet all along?” 

Jungkook and Jennie are on the balcony, looking picture perfect in matching formal attire and flowers. The sun is setting, not taking its time as it sinks deeper and deeper into the horizon. The sky darkens and the air is chilly, much like your heart. 

Jungkook's eyes are wide and in shock as he watches you from the balcony, but Jennie’s are sharp and satisfied. Satisfied, as if the whole thing had been orchestrated. 

While you can’t hear him because he’s so far away, you can see the ghost of your name on his lips. Your ears are ringing, numb to the laughter of the students watching and the pity that others are throwing at you. You feel dumb. You feel like throwing up. In a bout of anger your heel digs into the plastic of the boutonniere, crushing the innocent rose in its clear coffin. 

You don’t make it far out the door when one of your favorite teachers snatches you in concern. 

“Honey, any further and you’ll be running on the highway," Mrs. Song jokes, pulling you away from the entrance. 

You feel like a newborn deer in your heels and incredibly heavy in your dress as Mrs. Song drags you over to a staff bathroom. It's far, far away from the actual party. Mrs. Song doesn't say anything, and just gives you a sad smile as she let's you go into the single stall alone. 

Sitting on the toilet and not giving a care that your dress is probably getting soiled, you bury your face in your hands and finally let the tears flow. Fat, frustrated tears roll down your cheeks without a care in the world. 

"Mrs. Song please, I need to get in there." 

"Now Jungkook, I think you've done enough for today. Go back to the party and don't worry about it." 

You can imagine Jungkook now, he hated it when people told him not to worry.  It only made him more annoyed, fists probably clenched under his perfectly tailored suit and his cute teeth uncharacteristically gritted. He cared to a fault, at least you thought he did. He ruined your night, he made you feel so dumb and silly.

But the longer you stayed in the dim bathroom, you could care less. Thank goodness for Mrs. Song guarding the door. Why would he bother to follow you? It turns out all your insecurities are not in vain, and that you’ve been ignoring a gut feeling you’ve mistaken for your lack of trust. You shouldn’t have trusted Jungkook. You shouldn’t have been so tolerable of Jennie. 

Goodness, you feel so stupid. You hope that there are other bathrooms for staff to use, because you want to coop yourself in here until the last dance. Mascara drips on your sleeves, your hands swiping at your cheeks to stop any tears from staining your dress even further. 

The more you hear Jungkook and Mrs. Song argue, the more you want to disappear. You bury yourself on the floor, uncaring of how dirty the tiles are. Glitter smears across your cheeks and sticks to your hands, and you no longer feel like the thriving young adult you once felt when you walked out the door this evening.

All you can do is cry and pray you can get through the night. And the next day, and the rest of senior year. You don’t want to see Jungkook or Jennie until graduation, when they walk out of the door and permanently out of your life. You wish you could skip the rest of the semester, and fastforward to the life you’ve carved for yourself in your dreams since freshman year. You wish you could be like the woman on the magazine, who has her whole life put together. To be a woman who holds all the confidence in the world and doesn’t have to worry about stupid men. 

Just like the cover. Thirty, flirty and thriving. Just like the models in the magazines. Twenty-seven and in heaven. 

Just once, do you want to taste the feeling of having life on your side. 

March 20st, 2021

Your first thought is that you feel disgusting. 

Of course, falling asleep in a random bathroom stall will make you feel those things. Your dress clinging uncomfortably to your sweating form, lulled to the sounds of Mrs. Song’s temperamental voice and Jungkook’s arguing. 

But for some reason it’s a different kind of disgusting. The feeling is rotting in your throat, as if there’s a tang stuck to the roof of your mouth. You also feel impossibly dehydrated, as if you’ve run a marathon. And for some reason you’re sore? Especially in the crotch, and you don’t remember experiencing any cramps yesterday. 

Your hands come to your body, and instead of feeling tulle and taffeta your hands are greeted with a silky black negligee that hangs across your waist. Panic stings in your bones like a stroke of lightning. 

Eyes snapping open, your breath catches in your throat when you take in the room. You’re on a large plush creme couch, large enough to be a bed. The organza curtains are a shade of bottle green and are opened slightly to let the morning sun in. From your view it seems like this is the top floor of the complex, overlooking the city horizon. 

You feel the covers shift slightly, and you realize there’s a naked man sleeping next to you. You scream. 

The man screams back with an even higher pitch, falling off the couch and clutching the sheets like a lifeline. “What?” he panics, eyes darting back and forth across the room like he’s on a reality television show. “What the fuck? Is there something on my face! Why are you screaming so early!” 

The fact that he’s an adult man and you’re seventeen is even more terrifying, and you feel absolutely naked despite the fact that you’re nearly clothed. But what confuses you more is that this man looks awfully familiar. 

Familiar in the sense that you’ve seen him in one too many television sitcoms to count. This man in front of you looks like Kim Seokjin, the protagonist of your favorite television show: Sky City. He has the same plump lips and pretty face, only aged up. But last time you checked on Soompi, Seokjin is supposed to be twenty years old and filming the next season in New Zealand. Arguably he could be his older brother, but he never acted and you don’t think he’d be the spitting image. 

“Seokjin?” you taste the name on your tongue, “Kim Seokjin?” 

Seokjin relaxes considerably, and he finds it appropriate to return to the couch, placing a tentative hand on your thigh. “Right, were you really that drunk? You got my name right, but it seems that you’ve forgotten that the only name you called me last night was sex god…” 

His plush lips meet the ends of your earlobe, and you squeal at the strange sensation. 

You’ve had sex with this man and you can’t even remember it? Furthermore how can a peasant like you be in contact with a celebrity? What on earth happened last night? Shouldn’t you be calling the police or panicking more? Where’s the pepper spray and sharp knives where you need them? You can’t even find it in you to find a sharp weapon at your once cherished-idol, who’s apparently unfazed and drinking in your body like he has a taste of it every night. 

“What’s the date?” you push him away, looking around for any signs of where you are and how you ended up here. 

“It’s the first day of spring,” Seokjin says easily, stretching out on the couch. “I wonder when the cherry blossoms will bloom. Should we have a picnic with Bogum?” 

“Where’s my phone, I can’t find my phone!” 

Seokjin doesn’t bat an eye as he digs through the couch, pulling something from under him. He waves it in front of your face. “That’s not my phone,” you deadpan. 

“Okay I guess you were actually that drunk,” Seokjin rolls his eyes, forcing the large piece of plastic and metal on your palm. “When you went to the bathroom last night you dropped your old phone in the toilet. We picked up a new one on the way to the next bar. Good thing the new Samsung dropped last month!” 

Since when are phones this large? You carry the strange weight in your hands, confused as to why Seokjin thinks this is your phone. You own a beat up 2G that barely gets any reception in the school basement. But when you turn it on, the screen recognizes your face immediately and unlocks. Wow, since when do cell phones do face recognition? 

A selfie of you and Seokjin appears on the homescreen, looking totally happy. 

Is that you? 

No longer do you have acne lining your brows, or uneven skin texture. Your smile is high and prominent. Your visage is clean and done with minimal makeup, highlighting your beauty. 

The date flickers on the top of the screen. March 20th, 2021: 7:42AM.

You scream again. Seokjin screams again for the heck of it. 

“How did this happen!” you shriek, dropping your phone to step up to the window. You bask in your reflection, mildly impressed and even more so afraid of what’s in front of you. Your body has filled out like an adult, and considering it’s ten years into the future, other things have filled out as well. Experimentally, your hands go out to your chest, squeezing. Yep, those knockers were not there the last time you checked. 

“Well, you came back from work completely drained from a shoot and I just finished filming my Everyday Skincare Routine video with Vogue,” Seokjin comes up to you, blanket tied around his waist like a long towel. “We met at our usual bar and do what we usually do when we’re both stressed: bang it out.” 

You watch as Seokjin’s hands snake around your slick silk, hugging you from behind like it’s second nature. “Is this a dream?” you ask yourself, because it’s not unlikely that you’ve had a sex dream with Seokjin and this is the aftermath dream. 

“Nope,” you yelp when Seokjin pinches your butt, hard. It stings. “This is real life, baby.” 

“Are we dating?” 

You feel Seokjin’s grip tense, and he shoves your innocent question away with a coarse laugh. “You know both you and me don’t do serious relationships. It’s why we work so well together, you know that.” 

“Right,” you reply softly. That doesn’t sound like you at all, and it scares you considerably. 

“So, I gotta go,” you panic when he lets go and starts searching around for his clothes. Your face heats up at Seokjin’s perky ass staring back at you, and your eyes dart to a random spot in the corner. “I got a green meeting with Ellen, and lord knows I don’t wanna face her wrath if I’m late.” 

In seconds he’s fully clothed in a plain shirt and jeans, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Call me beep me, if you wanna reach me,” he sings, throwing a wave over his shoulder as he leaves you in the large apartment. 

The door slams with a hard smack and that’s when you collapse on the couch that feels foreign and strange, breaking into tears. 

The next time you wake up, it’s the next day. It’s a glaringly bright Sunday and for whatever reason you’re still in this aged-up body. Maybe time travel makes the body really tired. This isn’t a dream. You panic for the second time, walking back and forth around the loft that’s apparently yours. It seems like it’s yours, because the bills that linger on the coffee table have your name and the pictures in the one bedroom are of you and your family. 

But the refrigerator in the nook is digital and has fancy ice settings, something you could never imagine owning. Your closet is filled with brand named suits, and with every designer label you pass you mentally rack up the total of just one section. It’s enough to pay for your college tuition if your first choice accepts you. 

Wait. You’re apparently twenty-seven, college is long gone. 

Lying in your bed feels better, surrounded by familiar pictures of your cousins and family. Your favorite snacks are tucked with care in your nightstand, and it makes you feel a tiny bit better knowing that your favorite chocolate and chips will never change. 

What happened in the past ten years? Why don’t you remember anything and are you entirely sure this isn’t some strange fever dream? 

Time ticks slowly as you spend the afternoon, glued to your phone. It’s a 25 Note+ and it’s filled with multiple doohickeys and settings that make you feel technologically inept. You never thought you were bad with technology, but clearly these phones have a learning curve attached to them. 

You try to call your family, but according to the voicemail left they’re on a Disney cruise that you paid for. Your heart aches at the excited voice of your parents. Why are they on a vacation without you? 

The next thing you aim for is finding Jimin’s contact. According to Google Maps, you’re not far from your hometown and you know that Jimin’s always wanted to move to the city so he must be nearby. To your chagrin, his name isn’t on your contact list. Strange, he’s always number two on speed dial. 

Clicking on the internet browser, you go to the online Whitepages and search up Park Jimin. There may be a million ones, but maybe you could get a lead. When a picture and an address show up easily with one swipe, you scoff. The internet has no room for privacy ten years later, huh? 

The most casual thing you own in your closet is a Free People dress, reaching mid-calf with flowing bell sleeves. Heck, you couldn’t even find a single pair of jeans. You don’t care however, as you swipe your keys from the counter (you gape, you own a Tesla?) and race down to the parking garage. 

Jimin’s apartment is on the other side of the city. It’s strange, transitioning from high rises and shiny windows to quaint brick walls and lived-in patio spaces. You feel like it’s a race against time as you make it all the way to his room, knocking feverishly on the mahogany red door. 

“What? Who is it?” it’s clear that his room is cheap, the walls thin as you hear his voice shuffle throughout the room. Why are you shaking? It’s just your best friend. 

The door swings open and you and Jimin drink each other in. His baby fat has melted from his cheeks, revealing a handsome and charming jawline. His hair is no longer a natural black, but has been dyed to a sandy blond that suits his tan. His eyes, wide in surprise, are still a soft brown but not as bright as when he was seventeen. 

“Jimin,” your third round of tears hits you like a truck at the sight of your best friend, and you immediately run into his arms. 

But he doesn’t hug you back immediately. In fact, he doesn’t know what to do at all. Your name rolls off his lips like he’s seen a ghost. 

You pull away, as if you are burned. You flinch at the way Jimin regards you. “Is something wrong?” 

“I don’t know,” he looks at you, crossing his arms, “I don’t know what to feel when your old best friend suddenly shows up at your doorstep after ten years.” 

What? 

“Why would I do that?” you whisper, bracing your hand against the doorframe to steady yourself. 

“Well, after graduation you chose a college at the last minute. Decided to go to a prestigious fashion university in Europe. Shacked it up with some British guys and well, forgot about your past but I guess I can’t blame you.” 

“But I couldn’t have left you,” you know you’re not even talking to Jimin, but in fact scolding yourself for being so stupid these past ten years. “I was crying for you that night at prom. All I wanted was for you to be there and hold me!” 

That strikes a cord. Jimin pops his head into the hallway, looking back and forth to see if anyone is watching. He sighs when your tears turn into sobs, shaking your form. “Come in,” he mutters, ushering you inside.

Jimin’s apartment feels more like home than your apartment does. Cosy and warm with the scent of jasmine brewing on the stove. The pour of tea soothes you slightly as you relax on the worn leather couch. 

Jimin hands you a mug, sitting opposite you against the rickety living room table. “Are you okay?” he asks, showing genuine concern for the first time. 

“I’m,” you roll the muddy liquid in your grasp, watching the tea leaves tumble. “I just came back from the hospital, actually. Hit my head drinking last night and I’m suffering from memory loss,” you clutch your head for good measure, feigning injury.  

“Memory loss?” he gapes, unable to see through your lie. 

“Yeah uh,” you wince, “almost ten years of memory loss.” 

Jimin isn’t a man who thinks ahead, preferring to live in the moment. You figure he’s not going to question your excuse. Your former best friend nearly drops his tea in the process, hot drops burning his hand. He hisses, placing the plain mug on the table as he goes to his shelves, pulling out your class yearbook. 

“Ten years,” he shakes his head, looking like he’s just stepped into a Korean drama. “Is that even possible?” 

“Must be,” you sigh, not wanting to delve into the details of how you ended up in the future, “the first thing I did when I woke up was scream my head off. Then I woke up later and the first person I called were my parents who didn’t pick up, and then I wanted to call you but,” you squeeze the cup in your hands, “I couldn’t find your contact so I searched you up.” 

“Should we call the hospital or something? Maybe you shouldn’t be walking around like this.” 

“Don’t worry, they said the memory loss is only temporary,” you force a smile, knocking your head lightly with the heel of your palm, “I just gotta y’know, catch up a little bit. I thought you could help.” 

Jimin is patient, albeit a little nervous, watching carefully as your eyes glaze emptily over the old yearbook. You’re unfazed at the familiar faces and events that are described to you in detail, unable to recall what happened during the events that followed graduation. There’s barely any pictures of you, so it doesn’t help when he tries to explain as much as he can. 

You stop him at the sports section, pointing a finger at Jungkook being carried by his fellow teammates during the lacrosse championships. “What happened to Jungkook?” 

Jimin shrugged, “Blew his sports scholarship,” your eyebrows float to the top of your forehead, appalled that your former love would do such a thing, “decided to pursue his passion and went to an art school for a degree in photography.” 

So much has changed in the past ten years. 

“Hey, can you please stop crying?” 

“I’m sorry,” you warble, wiping at your sleeve as if the fabric didn’t cost hundreds of dollars, “I must be making you so uncomfortable by barging in. I’ll get out of your life—”

“No, not that. I just don’t like seeing you cry,” Jimin sighs, squeezing your knee, “of course I was upset when you suddenly upped and left town to study in another continent. But I was still happy for you. On the internet you seemed tons happier since highschool.” 

“I can say that’s no longer the case,” you mutter sadly, taking a long drag of your tea. The burn flows down your throat, digging you to reality, “I guess I just woke up and wasn’t prepared to be the person I ended up being.” 

“Well, what can your former best friend do to make it better?” 

Your eyes widen at Jimin’s uneasy stare, as if he’s wondering whether he said the right thing or not. 

“Um,” you bite your lip, “will you go shopping with me? I realized I don’t own any sweatpants or sneakers and I would really like to wear something comfortable right now,” you look despondently on your uncomfortable dress, swinging around the sleeves that seem to snag onto everything. 

“Okay,” he nods easily, “will you also buy me new sweatpants and sneakers? And dinner? I really want a New York Strip.” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, “can I afford that?” 

He chuckles to himself, pulling you up and wiping the tears on your face with a tissue from his pocket. You don’t even care to ask whether the tissue is clean, only focusing on the tender gesture that you’ve missed so much. 

“Honey, you’re one of the co-editors of Ego. I’m sure a couple pairs of sweatpants and steak will barely make a dent in your bank account.” 

You’re flabbergasted. Ego? The fashion magazine that’s on billboards and commercials? That Ego? 

After a couple checks through your bank account, and a triple check with a phone call and trip to the ATM, you’re sure the money is yours. It scares you, but also comforts you knowing that you’ve always been able to make it big. 

You barely bat an eye as Jimin tugs you around the city with a familiarity that has you reeling. You struggle to remember the streets you pass and the signs that indicate what part of town you’re in, all whilst Jimin basks in the fruits of your labor. You don’t give a shit, obviously. It makes you happy seeing Jimin slowly melt and grow more comfortable throughout the day. 

This is the kind of life you envisioned. One where comfort isn’t discarded for luxury, where the two cultures can marry. Jimin busts a gut when he sees you angrily shove your Free People dress deep in your shopping bags in favor of a black Adidas tracksuit that makes you feel like a soccer mom. Of course, he doesn’t know why you’re so aggressive with all your luxurious items, heck you even make him drive your Tesla, but nevertheless each passing hour brightens you up considerably.  

When you two arrive at a fancy steakhouse with a dress code, the manager doesn’t hesitate to chide you and suggest the Applebee’s down the street. 

You retort back that you’re an editor of Ego, and in seconds you’d have this restaurant swarmed with bad reviews. You know nothing about culinary review but you’re sure the manager doesn’t know that, and no arguments are placed after that. 

The evening puts you in higher spirits, and you’re almost convinced that you’re a successful twenty-something catching up with your former best friend. You’ve always been mature for your age, high school can do that to a person, and it makes it vastly easier to keep up with the new decade. 

“So,” you help Jimin get his bags up into his apartment. A little part of it feels like a bribe as you carry all the name brands on your arms, but you chalk it up to being compensation for the last ten years, “who are the people you hang out with now? Anyone I know?” 

“Well, Taehyung sometimes drops by if he’s free. He’s traveling the world now, he actually works with you,” Jimin provides the information smoothly, “only he works in the international business column. But surprisingly, the person I hang out the most with is—”

“Jungkook.” 

Standing face-to-face with your old high school sweetheart disarms you, and you’re sorely reminded that just you’re a seventeen-year-old in a twenty-seven-year-old’s body. 

Jungkook looks tired, and he rubs his eyes a bit as if to make sure he isn’t dreaming. You in the flesh, looking purposeful and confident as you hold three bags on each arm, each piece probably costing more than his rent. He’s filled out, what once was lean muscle and minor definition has turned into full muscle mass hidden beneath a large t-shirt and sweatpants that are two sizes too big. His face is still sweet-looking and baby-like, but his hair is overgrown and waving in front of his eyes without a care in the world. 

“Did I mention we’re neighbors?” you can practically hear the wince in Jimin’s voice, probably regretting that he hid that chunk of information from you. 

Jungkook tastes his name on your lips, and it sounds foriegn and strange coming from the both of you. “Good to see you,” he says, voice low. 

You barely formulate a response, replying with an equally nervous “right back at ya” and then you two resume staring at each other. While Jungkook hasn’t seen you in the last ten years, you saw him yesterday. Yesterday, where you started the day all peachy keen and it spiraled downhill shortly after. It’s jarring, knowing that your body doesn’t fit your conscience. 

“Well I uh,” Jungkook lifts his indicator to leave, a large garbage bag, “bye.” 

Jungkook shuffles out of the small hallway, and you get a whiff of his scent. It’s still the same, fabric softener mixed with his own musk. 

“I,” you start off slow, “maybe I should go talk to him?” 

“No,” he warns. “You and Jungkook are completely different people now, he’s just gonna think you’re pitying him if you go up and talk to him out of the blue.”

“But we’ve always been different people.” 

“You really think that?” Jimin shakes his head, “I know what happened at prom was rough but, I really didn’t think much of your relationship with Jungkook before that. It seemed like you were pretty compatible—”

“Up until the point he was kissing Jennie in matching flowers on the balcony like some kind of romance film?” you scoff, crossing your arms, “right. Super compatible.” 

Jimin sighs, as if he’s chastising a teenager. “Prom happened ten years ago, don’t act like it happened yesterday. People change.” 

You frown, because in your mind it did happen yesterday. 

Sleeping last night was hell. It’s one thing to be completely zonked out of your mind and unsure if you’re in a dream or weird coma, but knowing that you’re going to be stuck here for awhile is painful. Your loft is too big for your tiny body, your mattress cold and empty with just you in it. Without your parents to call and you feeling wholly insecure about your rekindling with Jimin, the only person you can really call is… Seokjin. 

And you really don’t want a repeat of your first night. 

So you suck it up, spend your waking hours in your office and quickly learning your tasks for work. You don’t even know what time you’re supposed to clock in, but from a sticky note attached to your MacBook it seems that you have a creative meeting at 10AM. You allow yourself two hours of sleep before you get moving.

The one exciting thing about your morning is that your outfit choices are virtually limitless. You feel like Cher in Clueless, all your outfits color-coordinated and organized by season. You pick out a springy Chanel number, a pale pink tweed skirt suit that has you feeling equally parts cute and an independent working woman. You even make time to buy yourself a coffee, because that’s what adults do right? 

Your office is gorgeous. Also located in the upper part of the city, the glass desk and high windows fit right in. You have an ideas board filled with various designs, fabrics and models to choose from. There’s a little frilly notebook straight out of the 2000s, all filled with phone numbers and special contacts all at your disposal. You even have your own cold press coffee machine complete with a mini-fridge. 

“You’re never this early, nervous for the meeting?” 

You squeal, nearly dropping your coffee as you take a tour around your office. You fight the urge to gape and point accusingly at the woman standing at your door.

“Jennie?” 

“In the flesh,” she gives you a cool smirk, holding her arms out for a hug. It really throws you for a loop, and you’re left stricken in your spot as Jennie closes the gap and squeezes the life out of you. Her grey pinstripe pantsuit crumples against your softer fabric. “You know you can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“Jennie and you are practically besties,” Jimin sounds a little jealous while saying that, forcing you to scroll through your Instagram page to see the countless selfies of you and your high school rival, “I mean, at least that’s what the internet says. Went to college in Europe together and everything.” 

So it’s true. You awkwardly pat Jennie on the back, and she doesn’t seem to mind when she pulls away and tells you to meet upstairs. You mindlessly follow after her to the conference room, wishing a kind good morning to everyone that greets you. 

Once you make it upstairs, you flinch at the loud screech of your voice. “My favorite editor!” someone in a plaid red suit runs up to you and throws an arm around your shoulders. The editor-in-chief Jung Hoseok smiles brightly at you, leading you to a seat at the head of the table right next to him. You’re cosy with the editor-in-chief? This is crazy! 

“G-good morning Mr. Jung,” you stutter, trying to remain cool. 

“Did something happen to you this weekend?” Hoseok jests, pinching your cheek like a long lost sister. “You always call me Hobi.” 

“Oh,” you force a giggle, “you don’t even know how crazy this weekend was.” 

Hoseok simply laughs and gets himself settled for the meeting.

“I’m so jealous,” Jennie sing-songs, a manicured finger trailing over the back of your chair, “only the best of the best can sit next to the big boss.” 

The comment has you bristling. Are you really friends? Giving her a tight smile, she saunters to another corner of the meeting. On your section of the table is your itinerary and iPad, ready for note-taking. 

“One thing that we do at Ego is consistency,” Hoseok pulls up a projection of this year’s editions, all carbon copies of the same cover. “And while that is admirable, I want to put my top editors to the test and come up with the theme for next month’s issue.” 

Hoseok sends you yet another pearly white smile, and due to the sheer closeness you know that secret smile is only reserved for you. That makes you squirm in your seat, already feeling the pressure building in the pit of your stomach. 

“Take two days off this week to plan. Work out the days you’ll be out of the office with HR, those days you’ll be working in the city, finding ideas and inspiration for the issue. Remember, think outside the box!” Hoseok does a little fist pump, cutting through the air like his life depends on it. 

The whole lot of the group continues to stare at Hoseok, waiting for his next instructions. Then, the adults begin to panic, similar to a high school class that’s been told they have a pop quiz that’s worth half their grade. You sigh internally, you suppose high school never ends. 

“C’mon,” Hoseok urges, flailing his arms around, “get out there! Make moves, make money!” 

But the only moves you’ve made since 2PM are fleeting trips to the bathroom. 

Obviously you don’t have any memory of your degree or experience, so instead of feeling like an editor you feel more like a teenager playing dress-up. You couldn’t even sneakily ask Jennie for help because she deadpanned: “I’m not sharing any secrets, doll.” It seems that being backhandedly mean is a theme in your relationship, so after that you rolled your eyes and locked your door. Thankfully you packed a pair of sweatpants so you can comfortably lie down on the floor while you spread out your workspace. Magazines littered the hardwood, all sultry and sexy looking models staring back at you with the same half-lidded stare and overdone makeup. 

It makes you cringe, thinking back to the other day when you were jealous of these people. Now that you have this life, thriving and full of beauty, is that the only thing you want to show to your audience? How can they possibly relate to models who make triple their salary? What about the authenticity? The ingenuity? 

And that’s when it hits you. 

Scrambling to your computer, you search up a photographer that you know will be completely and utterly transparent. 

My Time Studios: Capturing the raw moment. 

You know exactly what you want for next month’s issue. 

Jungkook does not expect to see you through the peephole of his apartment, fiddling with the threads of your clothes and eyes glued to the ground. He mutters a curse under his breath, jamming his fingers between the metal double lock to swing his head out. He doesn’t even bother to open up all the way, just enough to stick his face out. 

“Jungkook, hi!” he still can’t believe you’re around. Jungkook winces at your tone, high and sounding like a teenager. He thought by now you’d be traveling the world, climbing to bigger and better things. Then again, the upper part of the city is certainly an upgrade. He just thought you’d want to be far, far away from him. “I b-brought you McDonalds.” 

You hold up a greasy bag of fast food, and his nose immediately responds to the smell of fresh fries and a quarter pounder (with cheese, of course.) It annoys him that you still know his weakness, but he isn’t going to go that easily. 

“Why are you here?” he asks a little too sharply, hands gripping the doorknob. 

“I wanted to offer you a job,” you get straight to the point, as if you know your time at his doorstep is limited. 

He scoffs, “You? Want to put my photos on Ego? You know my business extends to weddings and the occasional Bar Mitzvah. Why would you want me?” 

You frown, crossing your arms. He looks down at your attire, a nicely fitted suit on top, but the skirt is replaced with grey sweatpants. Comical, really. “I’ve always loved your photos,” you admit to him, “you know that. And they’ve gotten so much better since then.” 

The furrow between Jungkook’s brows softens a fraction, smoothed by the honesty in your voice. You’re right, you always made sure to tell Jungkook how much you loved his other talents. Namely, the photography, and sometimes his singing. He can still remember how easily you slept in his arms watching Sky City for hours, all at the melody of your favorite song. While his teachers and classmates loved to venerate his position on the team and his ability to garner attention, you encouraged him to work on the things that mattered to him the most, even in secret. 

Nevertheless, that was ten years ago. 

“I don’t need your charity,” he spits, “Jimin might be able to be bought by some designer clothes and an eighty dollar steak, but not me.” 

The pain in your gaze is glaringly evident, and you don’t even try to hide that you’re upset as the paper bag falls against your lap. If there’s one thing Jungkook knows he’s good at, is hurting your feelings. 

“You think this is charity?” you whisper, hurt delicately lacing your voice. 

“Are you kidding? Last month you got Xu Minghao to photograph your spread for Ego. He’s photographed the damn Queen of England,” if you notice that he’s babbling about reading your magazine, you don’t show it in your face, “the point is, I don’t understand why you’re trying to come into my life again. I don’t want to get involved in your fancy dinner galas or anyone else from high school. So please, just go back to your picture perfect life.” 

And without another qualm he slams the door in your face, effectively shutting you out. It doesn’t feel as good as he wants it to feel, clearly. He feels even shitter than before. His eyes glaze over to his rickety coffee table, cluttered with bills and credit card payments that should’ve been dealt with a long time ago. 

He slugs himself over to his couch, throwing his body over the couch that’s way too short. His legs dangle in mid-air, but it doesn’t stop him from throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the sunset. The bills can wait a little longer. Seeing you was too draining. 

The nap turns into a full-fledged night’s sleep, and by the time he wakes up the sky is dark and it’s the start of a new day. 12:08, the screen of his iPhone confirms. Feeling even crustier and worse than before, his stomach decides to harden the blow and go straight for the gut. He’s sorely reminded of the food you offered him hours ago. 

Quickly pulling on a large denim jacket, he grabs his keys and heads for the 7-Eleven down the park. Nothing like a frozen pizza to fill the gut, fast and cheap. Despite the fact that it’s dark and late, there're still some stray people in the park. A few homeless, some high school stoners who are meeting in secret, and you are typing away on your MacBook. 

Wait, what? 

You’re sitting on a bench in the park, typing away without a care in the world. Shoving soggy fries that he earlier refused in your mouth, you let a couple stray potatoes hang from your lips as your eyes succumb to the screen. You look positively silly, still in a pink blazer and baggy sweatpants. 

He must have been staring a little too long, because soon enough you turn your head, gasping at his figure. You quickly avert your eyes, but don’t make any move to leave the park. That interests him further. 

Shamelessly, he calls your name. His legs get to you in an instant, towering over your tiny figure. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I’m waiting for Jimin,” your eyes flicker to your open laptop, “and working.” 

At least one of those reasons is a lie. Last time he checked, Jimin always sleeps over at Yoongi’s house on this day. He knows it’s a lie, and you know he knows it’s a lie, but neither of you make the effort to correct it. 

“And what could you possibly be working on at 12AM?” 

“Finding a photographer,” you hunch over your laptop, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t have much time and none of my usual contacts are good enough. This project is… personal.” 

It makes him want to ask further, he can’t lie and say he isn’t intrigued in the kind of vision you’re going for in your next issue. “But why can’t you work at home?” 

“Don’t wanna go,” you reply casually, “it makes me feel lonely.” 

Lonely? You feel lonely? He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated at the display of nonchalance. Back in high school he always encouraged you to feel confident, but not like this. “Hey, it’s nice that you feel comfortable enough to chill in the park at 12AM, but it’s really dumb. You’re lucky you haven’t gotten mugged from all that money you’re carrying around!” he gestures to your fancy clothes and laptop, “and if you feel so lonely, call up one of your rich friends I’m sure they’ll—”

“Oh my god, Jungkook,” you slam your laptop shut, darkening the two of you. “I thought you wanted me to go back to my ‘picture perfect life’, so why do you care?” you get up in his face, standing on the bench so you’re nearly eye-to-eye, “why don’t you pester those kids over there? Tell them to drink their milk and go home,” you scoff, shoving your stuff in your bag. You don’t spare him another glance as you stalk off in the other direction. 

He groans, unable to untangle himself from the mess, “Where are you going?” 

“To a park where you’re not in!” 

Despite the exchange for sweatpants, you’re still wearing shoes not fit for walking. They’re little white pumps, not too tall but not remarkably comfy either. However, that doesn’t deter you from getting the heck out of there, seemingly walking in any possible direction to get away from Jungkook. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” he chastises once his hand clasps around your hand, pulling you around. 

There’s a little resistance, as you try to hide your face to no avail. Jungkook fumbles a little, not thinking you’d be crying. But tiny, shy tears are pooling around your eyes, looking flustered at your display of emotion.

“God,” you mutter to yourself, “I feel like such a kid.” 

That strikes a chord in the twenty-something man. The last time he saw you in the flesh was when you were both kids. Young, unbridled, and stupid. Well, only Jungkook was the stupid one. 

“Do you want me to take you home?” Jungkook offers, feeling guilty about his roughness. 

You shake your head. “No, I told you I don’t want to.” 

“Can I at least call you a cab? Or a friend so you won’t get lonely?” 

“Jungkook, if I had that option would you think I’d be here right now?” he’s trying, he really is. But you’re equally as miffed about this whole situation and at a loss. The two of you engage in a staring contest. It only takes a few seconds for you to crumble, and he frowns when you shiver in your thin blazer. 

Instantly, he rips off his jacket, pulling it over your body. It’s huge on you, swallowing your body and hopefully containing some of his residual heat. 

And finally, he relents. “If you want, I’ll come over and stay until you fall asleep.” 

“Okay,” your eyes widen in instant agreement, pulling something out of your pocket. “Will you drive?” 

His eyes widen at the shiny, minimalistic car key. Your sudden one-eighty has him second guessing his decision. “You drive a Tesla?” he gapes, taking your key like he’s holding the Hope Diamond. 

You got your license in February. One month ago, and only because the instructor felt pity on you since it was your second time retaking it. The fancy car terrifies you, and you’re sure Jungkook has much more experience driving (over ten years worth.)  

You shrug, “Not very good at driving. Haven’t had much practice.”

“Um, the car drives itself?” 

“It does?” you tilt your head, dazed, “wow, technology is amazing.” 

He shakes his head, putting a hand on your back so you can lead the way. You must be tired, because it seems like your head isn’t entirely there anymore. He takes charge, buckles you in and takes a couple minutes to fumble with the car settings. Nevertheless the drive home is smooth (and it takes all of Jungkook’s willpower to not squeal in excitement when the Tesla does in fact, drive itself.) 

You lead him inside your loft like a tiny zombie, throwing your shoes to one corner and throwing your jacket on the kitchen table. 

“Must be hungry,” you can’t even form complete sentences, “there’s food in the fridge, Kook. Sorry if it’s not to your taste.” 

Shuffling away to your room, Jungkook is left to gawk at your apartment. The baseboards of your walls are crusted in pretty pearl designs, swirling around the whole expanse. There’s a television that stretches the wall of the little living room, with a sound and video game system he’s only seen in movies. Your tables are meters and meters of granite, and he wonders how the floor of your apartment can hold all this weight. 

But he supposes it’s because there’s nothing much to hold. No pictures line the walls, only vague looking art to fill up blank space. There’s no touch of warmth despite the heating system under the floor that relaxes his toes. For such a big home, he can only imagine how small you must feel in it. 

Your fridge is just as empty, decorated with a couple of sad-looking salads and some protein shakes. He sighs, grabbing two chicken salads and a banana shake and bringing it to your coffee table. It’s a little two quiet for his liking, so he turns on the television real low just to make the room feel a bit fuller. 

Halfway through one salad he realizes he probably should’ve made you eat as well. Even though these salads aren’t remotely filling, they’re much healthier than some soggy fries. A piece of limp lettuce hangs from Jungkook’s mouth, suddenly feeling guilty for soaking up all of your amenities without inviting you. After all, it is your house. Wiping some sauce from his lips he dusts off his pants, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he makes his way to your room. 

Calling your name, the only reply is the whir of the heater. He only cracks the door a tad, but he sees you slumped against the edge of the bed, bare feet hanging from the end. You barely made it, your clothes strewn across the floor, an oversized t-shirt ruched across your barely covered thighs. Without a thought he quickly scrambles to move you closer to your pillows, and then wraps your body in your plush duvet. You’re out like a light. 

You’re sleeping, so Jungkook should go home. That’s what you two agreed to. He goes back to his late dinner (early breakfast?) mindlessly listening to an infomercial on rare dollar coins. He’ll leave after he eats. 

He didn’t leave. 

Jungkook awakes to a scream, your shrill voice echoing all the way down the hallway into your living room. It takes a second for him to register the empty white walls and the fact that he’s not in his apartment, but eventually it goes back to the point that you’re in distress. He jolts, scrambling off the couch to run to your bedroom. 

“What is it?” he exhales into your doorframe, socks sliding. 

Your hair is in a disarray, shirt rumpled and face scrunched in pain. You shove your phone in his face. “Since when did Iron Man die!” you cry, genuinely horrified at whatever entertainment article you’re reading. 

He slumps against the wall, running a hand over his dry face. “Since Endgame, obviously. That was literally two years ago. Is that why you woke me up?” 

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t know!” 

“Have you been living under a rock or something?”

“Or something,” you frown, throwing your phone across your bed, “I guess I should go get ready for work.” 

Jungkook watches as you shamelessly hop off your bed, uncaring that your shirt has ridden up, revealing the full expanse of your thighs and then some. You pull out a pair of sweats from a shopping bag, nicking off the tag to put them on your legs. 

“Do you have work?”  you ask casually. 

“Uh, no,” Jungkook coughs, crossing his arms. It’s been awhile since he’s had a solid gig. Two whole weeks have been spent doing more personal work which was fine, but at the same time his bank account could beg to differ. “I’m off today.” 

“Oh, alright,” you shrug, “do you know where I can buy a good camera?” 

“Why?” 

“Gonna go take pictures,” you snatch your wallet and keys from your bedside, stuffing it in a fanny pack. He watches you curiously as you zip your bag shut, muttering something about how you can’t believe that fanny packs are back in style. Swinging the strap over your back, you brush past him. “You can stay if you want,” you add pointedly, before you slip into the bathroom. 

Jungkook doesn’t understand as to why he’s slipping into sensory overload. The house is a shell of itself and the antithesis of a rainbow. Maybe it’s the fact that he woke up ten minutes ago or how you look completely peaceful and want to leave as soon as you wake up. Or how shocked you were that Iron Man has passed and you’ve completely missed Phase 3. Or that you’re not even thinking about breakfast or not wishing him a farewell, practically throwing him into your apartment like a second home. 

He wobbles back to the couch, trying to look as nonchalant as possible as he drapes the fuzzy blankets over his body. He flips through the channels, before finally settling on an old episode of Sky City. 

When you walk out into the living room, you scrunch your face in pain when you make eye contact with Kim Seokjin’s on screen appearance. Oh, how things change. Jungkook knew how much you loved watching Sky City, indulging in the protagonist's attractiveness. 

“Y’know,” Jungkook says over his shoulder, “if you leave me here, I could steal whatever I want.” 

“Go ahead,” you reply flippantly, already slipping on your sneakers. “There’s nothing of value here.” 

What is wrong with you? 

“Wait!” Jungkook throws all his pride at the window, unable to conceal his worry for you. Half your body is out the doorway, and you’re looking at him like he’s grown a second head. His voice takes up the entirety of the room, startling you. “I need to come with you,” he finally settles on, looking serious. “You’re going to buy the wrong camera.” 

“Okay,” you concede immediately, throwing the keys on the couch, “you drive.”

Jungkook must know something’s wrong with you. 

You don’t know how to act around him. Your heart is hurt and your body is a decade older than it was a week ago and everything in your life and mind is a complete wreck. It still aches to look at him, despite the fact that you want him around, all the time. You wish you could know a little more about your adult life, you feel like a proverbial Bambi sitting in a car worth more than your childhood home. It’s a wobbly, shaky road to adulthood, and you’re not having it. 

Jungkook sleeping over is the last thing you thought would happen last night. You didn’t even think he’d relent to coming to your house, since he was pretty hellbent on not being your photographer. 

But now he’s driving your Tesla again, after you instructed him to park the car where you parked it last time. That way, you can go back to the playground you were in the night before. You have a vision for the issue and it starts there. Fiddling around with the expensive camera Jungkook picked out, you feel his gaze burning into your shoulder. 

“Am I doing something wrong?” you ask archly, “I read the manual and everything. Or are you just being a perfectionist again?” 

“What’s wrong with being a perfectionist?” Jungkook shoots back, putting the car in park. As soon as the car stills in the parking lot, he grabs the camera from your grasp like a petulant child. “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t break it. Face it, you’re terrible at technology.” 

“Excuse me! I have a Samsung 25+ and a Tesla!” 

“Yeah? So why did I catch you struggling to use your pay feature on your phone when we grabbed coffee?” 

“It’s new,” you mutter under your breath. Everything is new to you. 

With a growl you snatch back the camera, and Jungkook for once doesn’t act like a baby with a sharing complex and relents. Of course, Jungkook manages to calibrate the camera and figure out the color balance before you could. This only annoys you further, wondering why Jungkook is still sticking around after all this time. 

“Alright,” you step out of the car, slinging the camera around your neck. “Thanks for driving me around, your apartment’s just down the street, right?” You dart your hand out, and Jungkook reluctantly hands over your key beeper. Maybe it’s because he seems to love the car so much, that he has a hard time giving it back. “I’ll see you around.” 

“Wait,” is that his word of the day? Wait wait wait. 

“What is it now, Jungkook?” 

He’s never seen you so full of negative emotions. You’ve been waiting for him to tire of you all day, from your clipped replies and unease ever since you two stepped out of your apartment. 

“Um,” he looks embarrassed, scratching the back of his head, “are you really going to take pictures? You always took really blurry pictures in high school.” 

The mention of high school has you icy, gripping the matte black digital camera to hold your feelings at bay. “Yes, I’m going to go take pictures because the photographer I wanted so rudely rejected me,” you revel in the way he shrinks, probably regretful already. “So if you’ll excuse me, I have a deadline.” 

He continues to follow you, all the way to the park. You make your way to a little garden, and start to take some test photos next to the little daisies that decorate the patch of dirt. You practically feel Jungkook breathing down your neck, feeling antsy everytime you click the shutter. Ignoring him is difficult, especially when he makes little noises of discomfort when you presumably do something wrong. 

“Jungkook, are you going to say something?” you seethe, not caring that the heavy camera strains your neck when it falls against your chest, “or are you just going to make me wait.”

Jungkook’s face is scrunched up, and finally he blurts, “I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry for what?” 

“For saying your life is picture perfect,” he sputters quickly, looking very sweaty. Jungkook always got sweaty when he did things a little too hard. Playing sports, thinking, campaigning on video games. “I—I didn’t mean it. I don’t know. I guess I was just upset at myself and I took it out on you.” 

“Well why are you upset at yourself?” 

“I’m upset because I—I don’t know, it’s complicated,” he plops down on the nearest bench, and while you follow him, you don’t let yourself sit next to him. If you do, you know your subconscious will want to wrap your arms around him and comfort him. That would probably be the worst possible action to perform. “I don’t really do the whole photoshoot thing. Like I said, I’m just doing some weddings and parties here and there. I shouldn’t have said those things about Jimin and how you’re only talking to us out of charity. It’s my fault for not considering how complicated your life could be too,” he looks down at the ground, shameful, “so if you still want me, I would really like to photograph for Ego. And I would also really like that camera back.” 

Unable to resist, you reach over to give him a pat on the shoulder. “I forgive you,” you reply numbly, thinking he was going to apologize for something else. You suppose he’s forgotten about that fateful prom night, just like everyone else. “It’s actually not for Ego, at least not yet. My boss is pitting us against each other, the best idea wins the cover theme.” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll win,” his face eventually breaks into a grin when you remove the camera from your body. “Come to daddy, baby,” he cooes, holding the shiny new camera in his hands like a newborn. 

“Gross,” you twitch, although you’re feeling all the more relieved knowing Jungkook will now be taking the visual reins. “You haven’t had a chance to look at the contract made up, but being paid five-hundred okay?” 

“Five-hundred a week?” 

“No, per day,” you correct, “why wouldn’t I pay you just like I pay the others?” 

Jungkook’s dark brows fly to his forehead. He practically chokes on his spit at the way you put Jungkook in high regard. A blush overtakes his visage, proud and pink as he rushes to get away from you. 

“You don’t even know my concept,” you called after him, chasing the midday sun. 

Jungkook is already in position, fitting the lens between two buildings. The afternoon sun looks like an egg yolk, melting between the clouds. “Well then is it?” he asks, bending down on one knee to get the perfect angle. 

“Well, yesterday when I thought of the idea I just wanted to be reminded of how easy being a kid was,” you don’t even know if Jungkook’s listening properly, given the rapid click click clicks of the shutter and Jungkook constantly moving around to get as many shots as possible. “I realized that not everyone can relate to the models or the clothes we advertise on Ego. Why would I want to see people I actually admire? Like, my friend’s older brother. Or Jimin, president of the drama club. Or even Jungkook, captain of the lacrosse team.” 

“So, nostalgia. The 2000s are back in style, I like it,” he replies simply, tilting the camera towards you, “pose for me.” 

“What? Jungkook,” you frown, holding a hand over your face. He doesn’t relent, continuing to snap you in different angles. 

“Oh! That was a nice one,” he turns the camera to reveal the screen of your furrowed brows, hand over your face, “looks super grunge. Totally a throwback look.” 

“Jungkook, I don’t model. I’m just the one who throws the ideas.” 

“Yeah, but. Wouldn’t it be cool if the readers of Ego could see the genius behind the paper and ink?” he gestures vaguely to your outfit, “and you’re wearing Fila. So that’s like, kind of designer?” 

“I don’t know,” you hug yourself, “I’ll think about it, okay? Let’s focus.” 

“Fine,” Jungkook stops buzzing around you, putting the camera down and following you as you walk back to your car. You don’t think you really need anymore park photos, and Jungkook seems to telepathically agree as well. 

“We need to plan some outfits and some backgrounds. I’ve already arranged a meet up tomorrow in front of our old high school with a couple of models. The school is on a grade-wide trip, so we’ll even have access to the track and field. I was also thinking disposable film? We could scan those.” 

“Alright, who are your models?” 

“Oh, you know. Just friends from school. I wanted it to be as authentic as possible. Taehyung flew back from Hamburg last night, so he said he’ll come. Jimin, obviously.” 

“Well you only had like, two friends in highschool.” 

“And you,” you clip on with a frown, “so don’t dress like a potato sack tomorrow, okay?” 

“I’m not modeling.” 

“Well, I’m still looking for a celebrity model to tack onto so. Don’t look like a chump.” you stick out your hand, while Jungkook pouts at your outstretched limb. If he feels sore that you called him a chump, he doesn’t comment on it when he clasps his larger hand in yours. “Partners?”

“Partners.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me your celebrity model was him?” 

“I specifically told you not to dress like a paper bag. Why did you continue to do so!” 

“You didn’t specify that your model was Kim Seokjin!” 

The current conversation is hushed, hissed between large reflective light panels and a parked car that held all your rented equipment. Currently, Taehyung, Seokjin and Jimin are huddled on the bleachers of your old stomping grounds, laughing at whatever funny video Seokjin has pulled up. They’re all dressed in variants of the same sweatsuit, a combination of Taehyung’s choosing since he’s one of the many color coordinators at Ego. 

But you haven’t started yet, and you would like to get some morning shots in before it gets any warmer. Jungkook is still petulant, pretending to buy time by balancing his tripod. He’s wearing his Birkenstocks, so old they’re definitely the same pair from highschool, and yet another black sweatsuit. 

“Seokjin’s like a big, fat cheeseball,” you assure Jungkook, who’s actually shaking from being in the presence of a celebrity. “No reason to be nervous.”

“That man has literally been part of our Sitcom Sundays for three years,” he gripes, “of course I’m nervous!” 

“Just go to the car. If you want to change I’m sure Taehyung’s brought something that fits you.”

“Well if they see me change they’re gonna see I’m trying too hard,” Jungkook pouts, he actually pouts. 

“I can’t,” you turn around, your Miss Frizzle-esque solar system dress whirling around your waist. The stars twinkle, glittering into Jungkook’s eyes. “Jungkook, do whatever you want. But we need to start in ten! No, five! I’m not paying you to try on Balenciaga and Off-Brand!” 

If Jungkook is shocked by your sudden snippiness or need to get things wrapped up, he doesn’t say anything to it. For once, he’s quiet about his needs and you’re thankful for it. Once he’s gone, you have a chance to breathe. It’s all wholly overwhelming to dive right into the job. Your brain is still in 2011 unfortunately.

“Babe, everything alright?” 

Seokjin appears behind you, having ditched Jimin and Taehyung after he saw you and Jungkook argue. He smooths his hands over your biceps. You’re still unsure over the exact nature of your adult-self’s relationship, but it seems that sans sex you two are relatively close with each other. 

“M’fine,” you mumble tiredly, trying not to stiffen under his hold. You suppose Jimin isn’t going to be the friend you confide into this lifetime. “I’m just nervous. We’re doing all this work and it can potentially go down the drain after this week. What if my idea’s stupid and we’re wasting time? Jennie texted me that her concept is going to be killer and now I’m scared this concept is too aesthetically soft and people don’t care about nostalgia anymore and I feel like simultaneously throwing up and crying—” 

“Whoa whoa, who’s replaced my confident editor and where did she go?” Seokjin decidedly goes with the notion that you’re definitely not fine. He swings his neck back and forth, peering behind the bleachers and over the football field. “My confident editor would never talk bad of herself like this! She commanded a whole crew of fifty within seconds when she did the Kim Taeyeon shoot in Milan! She never cowers under a challenge, the challenge cowers to her!” and in his gallancy you no longer try to shy away, in fact you even giggle at his silly way of comforting you. “And most importantly, she’d never compare herself to a wench like Jennie.” 

Seokjin doesn’t hesitate to swipe the moisture right under your waterline, making sure any traces of your crying are undetectable. “W-wait,” you sputter, “you mean, me and Jennie aren’t actually friends?” 

He chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “Even now, you’re such a good actress.” 

You let Seokjin continue to hold you as the pieces in your empty mind come together. If Jennie is truly not your friend and you two have been faking it all this time, how serious is it? And if so, are you the competitive type? You know for sure Jennie is, and will she stop at nothing to make sure she gets the spread? 

This fear is combined with an equal amount of sadness. You were a little excited to have a lasting friend from college, but your mother always told you to never believe anything on the internet. You suppose those selfies of you and Jennie on your Instagram are nothing but a facade. 

But at the very least Seokjin’s care for you isn’t fake, and you’re thankful that you have at least one friend in this life. If you didn’t do this time skip, would Seokjin remain your only friend? You try not to think too hard about it, “Thanks, Seokjin. I really appreciate you.” 

“Will you appreciate me tonight then?” Seokjin makes a move to kiss your neck, and the moment is promptly ruined. 

Shoving him away you say firmly, “Touch me like that again and I’ll rip your dick off in front of this whole crew.” 

“I love it when you get feisty,” Seokjin melts, but salutes you like a drill sergeant as he runs back to the men on the bleachers. 

It’s then you feel a presence looming over your shoulder. Tall, dark, and emanating. He’s changed, in favor of some fitted jeans and a plain white shirt, paired with black boots. Jungkook is behind you, glaring over your shoulder at Seokjin. So much for showing off your professionalism. Crap, how much of that did he hear? 

“Jungkook, I–”

“Let’s start,” he mutters gruffly, stepping past you to get to the equipment. 

You slap a hand over your face. It’s going to be a long day. 

However, the hours following are probably one of the brightest hours of your life since you’ve appeared in your future-self’s body. At first Jimin was anxious at your invitation, despite being in the high school plays and being okay at public speaking, he didn’t know he’d have the potential to be a model. A couple test shots and some coaching from Taehyung, Jimin is a natural, his photogenic energy strong enough to compete toe-to-toe with Seokjin. 

You also have to hand it to Taehyung, who has been running back and forth between modeling and choosing outfits for the boys. Jimin and you didn’t run in the same group as Taehyung back in high school, but time changes things and if given the opportunity, you would’ve loved to be friends with him back then. 

By the time you are done for the day and you feel like all the possible shots have all ready been taken, you circle around the school. You previously went inside empty classrooms, posed in the cafeteria, even pretended to reenact your school rendition of RENT in the auditorium. 

Everything is mostly packed up and put into the car by the time the sun is setting, and you just wanted to perfect this one shot. 

The gymnasium looks a lot smaller than it did as a child. As a teenager, you constantly feared getting hit in the face by a stray wiffleball, or throwing up during the pacer test after the 100th lap. But now, it just looks like an old gym. 

“It smells like sweaty balls in there,” Taehyung curses, adjusting the patterned button down by smoothing down his chest. He jabs a finger in the boys locker room, where Jimin comes out with another new outfit. 

“I think the sandwich I left in senior year is still there,” Jimin adds, pulling the collar around his burgundy knitted sweater. 

The back of the gym is decorated in balloons. Overnight you managed to build a balloon ring off of Pinterest, one of your proudest moments as you made Jungkook haul the rainbow colored arc and shove it into the trunk. Seokjin is sitting directly under the arc, decorating a letter corkboard. It’s one of those cork boards all the teachers display in class, often decorated with some witty quote or a basic “Welcome to Mr/Mrs/Miss _____’s Class!” 

Jungkook is setting up the camera on a tripod, wanting to do it the old fashioned way. Aside from the freakout he had in the beginning when he realized he was photographing Kim Seokjin, he’s been quiet and strictly professional throughout the whole ordeal. It’s amazing to see this side of him, as he seamlessly transitions from shoot to shoot knowing exactly what he has in mind for each photograph. His direction is soft but impactful, and the boys have no problems following directions. 

“Okay boys, everyone under the arc!” 

Working like this is a rush you can’t even imagine. In high school the path you were in the process of choosing wasn’t clear cut up until this point, but now you know exactly what you want to do for the rest of your life. 

Seokjin holds the finished corkboard in the middle, a proud Class of Ego in white block letters. 

Jungkook only gets a few shots in before Seokjin bemoans, letting the corkboard fall in his lap. 

“Guys, this picture’s gonna stink.” 

Jungkook’s appalled, “Excuse me—” 

“Because you two aren’t in it!” Taehyung agrees easily, “c’mon, JK. Put your camera on timer mode and let’s have all of us in it!” 

A blush melts on Jungkook’s neck, all the way to the tips of his ears. “What? No, that’s silly Tae. I really don’t—agh!” 

The three men are in a controlled frenzy, aiming to get their mission done. Seokjin rounds the camera and makes quick work of enabling a timer and a burst shot. Jimin pulls you by the waist, tugging you ungracefully to the center of the arc. Taehyung is doing a pretty good job of hauling your muscle hunk of a photographer, pressing his shoulders across yours. 

And finally, Seokjin hands you the corkboard. “You should be holding it. After all, you’re the brains behind it!” 

At first it feels awkward, squished between new friends and old friends. First loves and last loves. Despite his warm bicep pressing against you, Jungkook is akin to a sheet of cardboard, arm-to-arm and stiff as a board. 

“Alright people, let’s move it!” Seokjin yells unnecessarily loud, the noise echoing throughout the high walls. “Last couple shots here, and we’re not re-doing it because I’m tired as hell! So look alive and pretend to like each other!” 

The first click of the camera stuns all of you, akin to many terrible school photos where the flash disarms you and your face twists. But that click suddenly gets Jungkook into gear, and you feel him slide a hand over your shoulder, squeezing you toward him so you’re pressed against the side of his chest. He still smells like floral fabric softener, and that makes you smile. 

And suddenly you feel like you’re seventeen again, surrounded with the people you care for the most. 

“So, the tabloids are true huh?” Jimin smirks, waving a flimsy fry in your face. 

“T-tabloids?” you sputter, dabbing the ketchup off your cheek. The greasy burger slips off your grip and onto your plate.  Your expression says it all, it’s painfully innocent and genuinely confused as you attempt to swallow the cheese and lettuce as fast as possible. 

The crew sans Seokjin is eating a very late dinner with you at the restaurant of their choice. They put it to a vote, while you desperately wanted some McDonalds everyone else voted for a more high end restaurant. After all, you’re paying. 

“Ah, don’t try playing coy with us,” Taehyung jests, “the office talks.” 

“Well, whatever you’ve heard isn’t true,” you huff, crossing your arms. “At least, not anymore.” 

“What?” Taehyung bugs out, “I thought you loved your no strings attached relationship with Jinnie.” 

“I guess I did,” you frown, deflating against the plush booth, “I don’t know. I don’t know what I liked back then.” 

You resume eating your burger, trying to ignore the worried look Jimin sends you. He reaches over the table to press his thumb to the little 11s in your forehead, a product of stress. “Does your head still hurt?” he asks. 

Jungkook’s chewing slows considerably. He’s been strangely quiet this evening, opting to order a handful of appetizers and gorging on every single edible thing on the table like a glutton. But at Jimin’s question he turns his head to look at you, “Why would your head still hurt?” 

“She hit her head when she went out drinking with Seokjin last week,” Jimin supplies, “messed with her memory.” 

“Chim,” you frown, gently shoving him off you, “I’m fine now. Pretty much caught up. Just reevaluating my life choices, okay?” 

“How could Seokjin let that happen?” Jungkook asks, putting his fork down. 

“He wasn’t even there,” you shake your head, trying to clear Seokjin’s name as fast as possible. After all, this lie is completely fabricated, a blanket to cover the magical properties your true nature being here has. “I’m fine, Jungkook. Don’t worry about me.” 

He huffs, resuming his meal. “Wasn’t worried,” he disarms, reaching over the table to snatch a mozzarella stick. 

You cover up your disgusted expression by wiping your chin with a soft blue napkin. Jungkook is really out here inhaling the whole table and being a bit of a jerk. 

“Well,” Taehyung claps his hands together, regarding all of you with a closed-lipped smile stretched so wide you’re worried he’ll break. “This is nice. I can’t imagine a time where I’d be reunited with you three. It’s weird. But a good weird.” 

“Ditto,” Jimin echoes, lifting his glass to clink with Taehyung’s. Throwing an arm over your shoulder he remarks, “could’ve never imagined my ‘ol best friend would’ve wanted to pursue fashion.” 

“What?” you glower, pinching his thigh, “I love fashion! I spent months planning my Clueless Halloween costume and our summers cosplaying!” 

“Right, Cher,” teased Jimin, “that yellow plaid suit that made you look like a bottle of mustard?” 

“You little–” 

Taehyung begins to laugh when you start to tickle Jimin in the sweet spots, causing Jimin to curl his leg around your ankle and pull you onto his lap for a hair pull. It’s all in fun and nothing hurts, but you’re so caught up in it you’re sure people are worried about your well-being. Even Jungkook is laughing, egging Jimin on while Taehyung weakly attempts to pull you away. 

If you could rewrite the last ten years of your life, this moment would define the remake. 

“Why are we here?” 

“For research purposes.” 

“Are you sure the actual purpose is because you don’t feel like working in the office?” 

“Jungkook,” you groan, tired of his infinite amount of negativity. “This was our senior trip! Of course I want to get a couple shots in before my big presentation.” 

“You’re risking my baby’s life,” Jungkook cradles the digital camera closer to his chest, swaddling it between its felt case. Ever since you purchased the camera, Jungkook has been unable to let it go. This adoption is both equal parts cute and strange, and you’re a little too scared to ask for it back. 

“I promise, no big rides,” you roll your eyes, “your baby will be fine.” 

The local amusement park is a fan-favorite amongst the city-goers, a reprieve from the hustle and a chance for you to spend your copious amounts of money on overpriced sugar and popcorn. The last time you went here was two weeks ago—in your mind. In Jungkook’s mind it was over ten years ago and he probably doesn’t even remember the time spent roaming the artificial floor and the infinite amount of bubbles that seem to eject from the air to add to the whimsical charm. 

Jungkook isn’t even paying attention, citing it as an artist block because he’s going through sensory overload with the amount of stimuli in the crowd. Screaming teenagers wailing under him from a nearby rollercoaster, the smell of sticky caramel apples pumping through the diffuser stands, and the amount of gaudy color that decorates every single logo of the park. 

He plops himself down on a nearby bench while you wait in line to get some food. It’s early in the morning and a weekday, so you figure this is the best time to get some photographs in without any passerbys. You figure Jungkook will get the hang of it once he has some food in his stomach. 

“A funnel cake?” Jungkook is bewildered when you return with the confection in hand, “it’s ten A.M.” 

You raise a brow, knowing how much Jungkook loves sweet foods. The funnel cake especially, he ate at least three when you went to your senior trip, one for every meal. But you’re an adult, or at least posing as one, and you shrug loftily, plucking a hot piece of fried dough from your plate. “Alright then,” you reply, “I’ll just eat the whole thing.” 

Once the cake touches your tongue, you can’t help but make an exaggerated moan in pleasure. You can feel Jungkook squirming like an earthworm next to you, either from the scrumptious smell of funnel cake or the way you’re so enthusiastically eating it. 

“W-wait,” Jungkook’s stomach growls at the perfect moment, “I want some. But I don’t want to get the camera dirty, pass me a napkin.” 

“I can just feed it to you!” you quip innocently, immediately ripping off a piece and shoving it between Jungkook’s pink lips. You feel a little slick in the finger, saliva briefly coating your digits before you pull away. You swallow, feeling a familiar tingle in your tummy and a sickening heat low in your belly. 

You fight back a sigh, wondering if your libido also did a massive growth spurt in your twenty-seven years of age. 

Jungkook is placated at the touch of food, and you take turns feeding yourself and feeding him while more customers trickle in the park. Confectioners sugar dusts Jungkook’s long-sleeved tee, the white color staining the dark fabric. You reach to pat his chest, ignoring the toneness that still remains from high school. 

“Alright, let’s ride,” you declare, pulling Jungkook up once you’re done eating. 

“Do we have to?” 

“What happened to the adrenaline junkie I once knew?” 

“He realized being an adrenaline junkie doesn’t make money and he should stay on the ground.” 

“Alright, Negative Nancy,” your reply has no bite to it, and suddenly you wished you invited Jimin or Seokjin before Jungkook. Jungkook may have the talent, but he certainly doesn’t have the attitude. You don’t even get why he’s still defensive, after all you thought he apologized in the beginning. It’s not like you’re the problem. 

“Gimmie your hand,” your thoughts cut out when Jungkook offers his large hand in front of yours, palm up. 

“Why?”

“C’mon,” he whines, settling for snatching your hand instead. His palms feel larger, rougher as they enclose your smaller hand. “Now hurry up and walk in front of me. I’m gonna take a picture.” 

You already have a feeling as to what this picture is going to look like, so you scrunch your nose. “That is so cheesy.” 

“It’s for the nostalgia factor, now hurry up and pretend we’re on a date.” 

You roll your eyes but relent, jogging a few steps ahead so you can get into character. This pose used to be a popular one, where the sweet boyfriend would be dragged around by the girlfriend’s hand, tugging him to wherever she wanted to go. It’s super cliche but if Jungkook figures it’ll fit your theme, you’ll do it. Eventually you forget that you’re holding his hand, and point ahead to some rides you want to try out. 

“Oh, Jungkook! Remember that one?” you point to a teacup ride, with guests spinning vigorously through their own seat. “Jimin got so sick he fell asleep in the car for an hour!” 

Jungkook doesn’t reply, so you turn around and face him. Click. Jungkook smirks at his little trick, which makes you rip your hand from his and walk further. 

“Hey, hey,” he chuckles, the first smile of the day. Food really does make him peaceful. “The shot looks good, you look good.” 

“Could’ve just asked me to turn around and pose,” you huff. 

“Then it would ruin the fun,” he replies, “now c’mon, let’s ride the teacups. For old time’s sake.” 

Ten minutes later and the both of you are soon regretting that decision. You’re once again slumped on the bench, this time unable to keep your head up so you rest it on Jungkook’s shoulder while he leans on your head. 

“Haven’t rode that since I was a teenager,” Jungkook moans, holding his stomach. “Remind me not to eat so fast before getting on that kind of ride.” 

You mirror his expression, feeling green. “Is this what late-adult life feels like?” 

“Yep,” Jungkook replies, unbeknownst of how shocked you are at how weak your body has become. “You wake up with back pain, pre-arthritis from all the typing you’ve done over the last decade, and a lot of stress. Definitely not the fantasy you’d imagine from your 20s.” 

“You think you’d be less stressed if you kept your lacrosse scholarship?” 

“Nah, I think I saved myself,” Jungkook shakes his head, “before I could be any more awful than I already was.” 

You refuse that notion, sending him a bitter smile. “Well, look at me. I became awful right after high school.” 

“I didn’t mean you—”

“I know,” you hold up a hand to stop him. The two of you follow a red path up the hill, leading to a simple cable car ride. It’s a slow travel ride, made to get from one side of the park to the other with a beautiful view over the lake. “But you see those tabloid articles. They must be true.” 

“I—I didn’t think they were all true,” Jungkook’s lying through his teeth to make you feel better, but you don’t care. “Why do you sound unsure?” 

You shrug, “Probably wasn’t sober for most of my bad decisions,” considering your friendship with Seokjin and his boisterous drinking attitude, you wouldn’t be surprised, “If they weren’t true, I believe Jimin and I would’ve stayed friends. I can’t imagine why I left my home like that. But I guess it doesn’t matter too much because I came back. And I mean, we’re here together doing work,” you gesture between the small space between each other, “I think that counts for something.”  

The two of you walk in silence for a bit, contemplating. The line to the cable car isn’t long but it’s slow, considering the cable only moves a couple meters a second. The take-off area is a risen slab of concrete, and the cars are continuously moving so you have to hop on one car as soon as another guest exits. 

There’s a little bit of space between it, a centimeter gap that could be nerve wracking if there’s no staff around. You think nothing of it as you fiddle on your phone, waiting for the staff member to let you and Jungkook in on the next car. 

Jungkook enters first, taking great care to cradle the camera in one hand so it doesn’t sway against the car. The car swings a little as well, and Jungkook holds out a hand for you to grab. 

Instead you focus on how the once bright glassy pink is sun-ravished, faded and rusting on the metal door flaps. The color is almost pearlescent, vastly different than the vivid color you saw two weeks ago. You almost want to reach out and touch it, wondering where that quality went. 

“Bun, be careful!” 

The tip of your heel nicks on the stepping stone, slipping like butter as you topple forward. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to scoop you up, hauling you into the car just as the metal door locks into place. The hard plastic of the camera digs into your chest uncomfortably as you plop on top of Jungkook, between his legs as half his thighs rest against the uncomfortable seat. 

“Were you not watching where you were going?” Jungkook huffs, blowing his bangs over his forehead. 

Instead of an artful answer you blurt, “You, you called me Bun.” 

His eyes widen at your response, and his grip loosens around your body. His eyes dart anywhere but your face, his cheeks ruddied and stained coral as he moves to remove you from his body. “It was a slip of the tongue,” he coughs, turning on his camera and getting shots of the lake. 

You huff in response, sticking to your side of the carriage. “I missed it,” you murmur to the wind, although you make yourself loud enough for him to hear. 

You try to bury your sour expression in your sleeves, just to hide how absolutely childish you feel. You don’t even care that Jungkook is trying to take pictures of you looking out the view, only trying to eradicate the feelings that are still down deep in your blood. Even the twenty-seven year old Jungkook is charming, albeit in a completely different way. 

The grown, mature Jungkook toots to his own horn. He isn’t concerned about a team or an image, and gave it all up to pursue an art he loves. The lacrosse jerseys exchanged for bulky long sleeves, the sport for a camera, and a mask for his true image. 

“Let’s go,” Jungkook takes your hand again when the ride stops, not letting go until you’re on steady ground. You figure he must think you walk like a toddler barely on her first mile. 

Would Jungkook like you even as an adult? With all this money, this power and this confidence you envisioned as a seventeen-year-old, it still doesn’t feel enough for him. In fact, you feel like a sore thumb sticking out, decorated in silly rumors and expensive clothes that separate you far from your roots. 

“Hey,” Jungkook touches your arm, pointing to a basketball carnival game, “remember this one?” 

“Yeah,” forcing a smile, you follow him to the small crowd that starts to form around the basketball game. The baskets are a short distance from the player, but so high up that it’s hard to tell the shape of the hoop. “I tried to tell you that it was completely rigged. From an angle you can see it’s still oval-shaped.” 

“And I told you it didn’t matter if the hoop was an octagon, I’d get you that prize,” he jerks a thumb to the prize booth, where a blue Piplup plush sits proudly with all the other starter Pokemon. “And I did.” 

“It’s still in my room,” you reply proudly, even though Jungkook is acting almost immaturely smug. “I, I mean it’s still in my room in my parent’s house. It’s probably lonely because my parents have been on a cruise for almost two weeks.” 

He raises a brow, eyes drifting to the booth. “Should I win another one to keep your bed in the city warm?” 

“That sounded oddly sexual.” 

“You know what I mean,” and Jungkook’s rolling up his sleeves, handing you the camera. 

“Jungkook,” you whine when he pulls out a roll of bills from his pocket, as if he prepared for this moment, “Jungkook c’mon—I don’t need any stuffed animals. Ugh.” 

You swear that the majority of your day is spent watching Jungkook blow cash on a low-quality stuffed animal with packaging pellets for the inside. Turns out carnival technology has also enhanced over the years, and it takes both your whining and the clerk’s whining to stop Jungkook from blowing his entire wallet to get one basket in. Eventually the staff relents and lets Jungkook take a Piplup keychain instead, glumly handing it over to you. 

“I like this better,” you chirp, clipping the ring onto your car keys, “now I can bring Piplup everywhere.” 

A small, barely there smile appears on Jungkook’s face. 

The rest of the day melts away like that, and before you know it the sun is slipping into the horizon and you’re being dropped off at your apartment. Jungkook even insists to walk you to your door, because your prizes are heavy. (Yes, he went back for the oversized Piplup.) 

It’s all too familiar, the way the walk upstairs is achingly slow, as if the moment is stretching itself down the hallway. How Jungkook looks so prideful holding the fruits of his labor, following you with a tug of your hand because the prize is too big for Jungkook to see straight. 

At the same time it’s different. The way you wobble around the hallway because you’re a little tipsy from wine flights is noticeable, even cute. How easy it is to not feel nervous when you clutch at his hand. How you two look like a seasoned couple, coming home from an all-day date. 

It ends at the front door, and you crack it open so you can slip your prizes through the crack. 

“Thanks, Jungkook,” you hold up the SD card that held all the precious memories of this week. 

This is where you part ways. You’ll spend the rest of the night editing your presentation, while Jungkook promised to go to a bar with his friends. A little part of you hoped you’d be invited, but you knew that would be impractical considering you have work in the morning. 

“Break a leg,” he says, leaning on the balls of his feet with his hands in his pockets, “you’ll do great. You’ve always been meant to do great things.” 

The investment he lays on you is insurmountable, and you feel yourself flush with simultaneous excitement and anxiety. Unknowing how to calm your nerves, you give him a small “thank you” and put your hand on the knob to slip away. 

“Wait—” 

You blink, a deer in the headlights as Jungkook swoops down and kisses you. 

You’ve received kisses—kisses reserved for a twenty-seven year old, before. Seokjin is an eager lover, and you felt it that fateful morning and even during your photoshoot when he tried to be sneaky and pull you away. Fleeting bites, kisses to the neck that are wet and hot.

Jungkook’s kiss does not feel like that. It feels like home. It feels like coming home after a long day of work, wrapping yourself in an old afghan and a hot cup of tea. The feeling of hot laundry, fresh front the dryer and smelling of floral softener. It tastes like ten years lost in a void, returning to your senses and lighting you up.

He holds you as if you’ll disappear right in front of him. Large hands cup your face, like a precious thing he never wants to let go. Your hands can do nothing but grapple after his, nails digging into his skin. 

“Good night, Jungkook,” you send him a lovestruck smile, a puppy love face. 

“Good bye, Bun,” he replies simply, jogging down the hallway. 

Being twenty-seven starts to feel a little more like heaven. 

Jennie used to annoy you in high school, but now she just down right scares you. 

Her presentation is one straight out of a thriller, with red shadow lights and neon green splattered in the dark room. Her models are intense, her designs are beautiful but overwhelmingly chaotic, and the whole affair is rather grotesque. The headline Fashion Suicide glares at you in a morbid scarlet font. 

Hoseok sends her a tight-lipped smile, and presses a button on his desk. “I need my antacids, Krystal,” Hoseok deadpans. 

Nothing betrays Jennie’s wicked expression, in fact her smirk widens at Hoseok’s fear. 

You on the other hand, are cool as a cucumber when you walk up to the front of the conference room. In fact, you barely have to say anything as the presentation presents itself. Jungkook took the liberty of making a video compilation for you, one that they could use in YouTube and Instagram promotions. 

“This, is preserving our youth,” you declare proudly, letting the video play. The music that accompanies it is very coming-of-age, like a yearbook slideshow of all the pictures you took. Taehyung, Jimin and Seokjin hold their arms around each other in matching attire, looking like friends for life. There’s even some videos of you and Jungkook at the park, playfully arguing at each other. “I’m tired of seeing people who could care less about my life, who I can’t relate to.” 

“This issue is for the unsung heroes—my best friend’s older sibling, the captain of the football team, and the black sheep with a dream.” 

The video cuts to Jungkook, looking ultra cool at the camera while he’s dictating Seokjin’s moves. It was taken on your phone, and you’re zooming in on Jungkook’s serious face before it breaks into a laugh, eyes crinkling and bunny teeth showing at whatever stupid thing Seokjin said. 

And finally, the video fades into a mock cover. The five of you are beaming at the camera, cheek-to-cheek as you hold up the placard: Ego: Class of Youth. 

Needless to say, the issue is yours. 

You ignore Jennie’s icy stare as you leave the room to negotiate with the creative teams on a set schedule. However, it seems that you can’t get a bit of rest when Jennie waits for you in your office.

“Jennie, get off of my desk,” you frown, watching a coffin-tipped nail flicking against a photograph of you holding hands with Jungkook in the amusement park. It hangs on a corkboard, standing up with all the other ideas that you and Jungkook have spent the last week meticulously planning.The black enamel scratches at your smiling face. You are not having this, not after all your hard work and all the meetings that have just been planned. 

Her feet dangle in the air, kicking back and forth as she sings your name. “You’re still such a child,” she sighs dramatically. “In fact, I think your cute little-wittle idea would suit something more like Highlights or Disney Monthly.”

“You’re just upset I did better than you,” you cross your arms.

Jennie’s nail slices your visage in half. 

“You’re right,” Jennie turns a 180 and gives you a bright, candy-coated smile. “Your idea is so good, it doesn’t suit Ego. In fact, I’m sure the editors at Mono will pay a pretty penny.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Ugh, you are such a fake.” Jennie giggles, “now, did you send this idea to Namjoon yet? Their publishing date is two weeks before ours, so I’m sure they’re getting to work on this whole Throwback Thursday spread.” 

You can’t believe the words coming from Jennie’s mouth. Before all of this, just how awful of a person were you? How could you sabotage your company on the regular, just to get paid a little extra dough for a rival company? It makes you think about what could’ve possibly changed. Had leaving your friends without a care in the world made you into this lost adult, grappling at the seams for attention? In college, did Jennie coerce you into being manipulative and backstabbing, and because without Jimin and needing confidence in a friend, you reluctantly agreed?

The coffee from this morning starts to back up in your throat, but you immediately tamp it down. No, you can’t be pushed around like this. You can’t keep pushing people around. You don’t want a life like this, and if you ever return to your old life, you’ll damn make sure you’ll create a future without Jennie in the picture. 

“I’m not going to send anything to Mono, and I’ve already fessed up to Hoseok,” you lift your nose in the air, voice impeccably clear for someone who’s absolutely bluffing. But Jennie’s face hits the ground, immediately buying your lie. You suppose you did become a good actress after ten years. Maybe Seokjin taught you a few pointers. “So if I were you, I’d swallow your tongue before words get around. I worked it out but don’t be surprised if a pink slip comes your way.” 

Turns out that no matter what, high school never ends. There will always be backstabbers and freaks and geeks. A mean girl that you subconsciously try so hard to appease, a grade that defines your life, and drama up to the neck. 

“He doesn’t like you, y’know,” Jennie whispers, but the words are loud and clear and you know exactly who she’s talking about. “Never had, and never will.” 

“You’re wrong,” you hold your hands, clasping them together to keep them from trembling, “he likes me.” 

So you leave the office, determined to prove yourself. That kiss last night was nothing short of magical, and it took a lot of strength for you to not drive up to Jungkook’s apartment in the morning in the hopes for another one. You pick up a pizza near his place, filling it up with your favorite toppings on one half and his favorites on his. A bottle of peach champagne is nestled between your arms. In the bathroom while waiting for your pizza, you’ve wriggled out of your tight suit and into a blue hoodie and bicycle shorts. Tonight, you’re celebrating. 

You’re vibrating as you’re knocking eagerly on his front door, excited to tell him the news. You hear a rustle from the couch, and some blankets shifting about. He must’ve passed out after going to the bar, how cute. 

But when the door opens, the vision in front of you is far from cute.

A woman, with cat eyes and a slim figure, tilts her head at you. She’s dressed in a large white shirt, transparent enough to show her lacy black bra and panties. Bruises decorate her neck and thighs, like red and purple gems. Her long black hair swishes, slightly frizzy at the bottom. 

“Can I help you?” her voice is sultry and velvety. “Are you looking for JK?” 

It’s obvious as to what transpired. Jungkook dipped after kissing you and fucked another woman. A woman who’s the complete opposite of you. Someone flirty and sexy and willing to give Jungkook what he wants. You don’t know who you should be mad at. 

“Who’s at the door?” Jungkook calls from the inside, and you nearly drop your bottle at the sound of the rasp. They must’ve had a fuckfest if they’re just waking up now.

Your cheeks are burning. Your heart is aching. And the vile that bubbled up from Jennie’s tirade is now resurfacing. From the way your eyes are watering, you must look like a crybaby. 

“Say, JK,” the woman closes the frame tighter around her small head, preventing you from seeing inside and for Jungkook to peer, “do you have any pathetic ex-girlfriends?” 

“No,” comes the muffled reply, “come back to bed, it’s getting cold without you,” the pizza starts to burn uncomfortably against your grip, “why the random question?” 

“Dunno, seems like you’ve had at least one.” 

At that moment, your savior appears in grey jeans and a beige hoodie. Jimin walks up to the floor, clutching a bag of groceries. It’s not hard to put two and two together as he spots you looking incredibly small in front of the strange woman, trying so hard not to break down. 

Your tears finally fall when Jimin reaches you. “Wrong room,” you mutter under your breath, quickly following your old best friend when he shoves you in his apartment. 

No words need to be explained when Jimin leaves the groceries on the coffee table and he’s pulling you onto his lap. You clutch him like a koala, rubbing mascara and blush all over his clothes as you sob. He pats your back and soothes your hiccups by offering you a glass of water. The stages of your meltdowns are pretty cut and dry, even after ten years. He still encourages you to finish the whole glass. He makes sure you have something to eat. He cuts your pizza into little bite sized pieces and feeds you. He doesn’t pressure you to talk until you’re ready, although he has a hunch as to what’s going on. 

And when you talk, he doesn’t expect a firm, “Take me home,” from you. 

“O-okay,” Jimin agrees immediately, pulling you into a sitting position. “Uptown, right? We can call an Uber or something and order from a restaurant.” 

“No,” you reply firmly, “Home-home. I want to go back to my parent’s house.” 

“That’s fine too,” he squeezes your shoulder, accepting the fob you hold out to him, “it’ll take about an hour, but I think the drive will be nice.” 

So you two sneak off into the sunset, clutching twin slices of pizza as you roll away into your Tesla. Jimin is right, ten minutes into the drive and you’re soothed by his smooth driving and the scent of fried cheese and dough. Your friend has been calm all this time, so you figure this is the right time for him to pop off. Again, this is also part of your breakdown routine. 

“Say, does this thing do calls?” Jimin asks, fiddling with the settings on your steering wheel, “Tesla, call Jeon Jungkook.” 

“Jimin,” you say weakly, although the little malicious side of you wants to goad him on. You don’t bother to fight the best friend territorialism, you just watch as his hands clutch at the steering wheel as the speakers ring. 

Jungkook picks up on the second ring, “Hey!” he says brightly, and it makes your chest pang to know how oblivious he is, “how did the presentation go?” 

“Fuck you, Jungkook!” you cover your free hand on your ear at Jimin’s shrill yell, louder than the speakers that carry Jungkook’s voice. “Fuck you for breaking my best friend’s heart twice!” 

The silence is deafening. It’s scary, like you could slash a butter knife right through the tension. 

Jimin continues, “I can understand high school because you were a real doofus, but this! You fucking lead my best friend on, only to fuck another girl right under her nose! She came all the way to your apartment from a long-ass day at work to celebrate and you ruin that day! I thought you’ve grown for the better but turns out nothing has changed since prom night. You’re still the stupid, confused little boy that doesn’t want to admit how they really feel,” you gasp at the blow, watching Jimin’s gritted teeth as he zooms down the freeway on a mission. “Good fucking riddance, Jeon!” 

Jimin punches the “hang up” button. A couple seconds of heavy breathing, and he turns to you with a gentle smile. 

“So, you want to listen to Taylor Swift’s new album?” 

Your room is lost in time. The Hunger Games novels are stacked on your shelf, looking old and worn. A Glee poster hangs over your four-poster bed, the yellow and red faded and the corners hanging by a thread from the old tape. The sheets are a pale pink, ruffly and definitely not in style anymore. When you sit on it, it creaks uncomfortably. 

You hug yourself, tucking your knees in as Jimin marvels at the room with an equal amount of awe. 

“If you could, would you go back to high school?” Jimin asks, sitting at the edge of your bed. 

With a lazy shrug, you smile at your collection of polaroids that are hanging above your vanity. You’re still hurt, but the pain is no longer rolling in waves. “Maybe,” you reply, “probably would’ve taken you to Europe with me.” 

He chuckles, “Is that the only thing you would change?” 

“If I knew what I knew now?” you tilt your head, “I don’t know.” 

Jimin gets off your bed, pressing a kiss into your forehead. “I’m gonna raid the kitchen and see if we can make something for dinner, yeah? Since your parents are on vacation and your fridge is probably empty, don’t  judge me if there’s only Totino’s pizza rolls and nuggets in the freezer.” 

When Jimin leaves your room, you quietly close the door and lock it. You lean against the cracked wooden door, falling onto the carpet and letting the tears fall. Is this what the rest of your life is going to be like? Evading pain and working too hard and trying everyday to stay afloat? Is adult life always going to be this difficult?  

These past two weeks have been nothing short of a rollercoaster. Major highs and major lows, and after today you thought you reached the end of the ride. However, it’s looking like the ride has no destination in mind, rolling in waves and finding a new hill or loop to catch you off-guard. 

“Are you kidding—how did you know we were here?” Another corkscrew. 

“You’re a turtle on the road, Jimin. Now move out of the way.” 

Jungkook’s voice startles you, and you tense when you see the gold door knob jiggle. Of course as strong as Jimin is, he’s no match for Jungkook. You hear Jimin grumble to curse Jungkook out, and the sound of him stomping down the stairs. 

“Hey, open up. Please,” Jungkook’s voice is weak and strained, and you only hug yourself tighter as the knocks continue. “Or, don’t. It seems like you can listen to me perfectly from here. I can hear your breathing.” 

You don’t say a peep, preferring to let everything fizzle out. Hopefully Jungkook will give up, say a pathetic sorry and be on his merry way. You don’t know why he’s followed you all the way over here, why would he bother coming when the damage is already done. 

There’s a slide of fabric across wood, and you can feel the door shake against your back as Jungkook leans on his side out in the hallway. 

“Back in high school, Jennie proposed that I date you to get back at you for stealing Jennie’s sewing sample and getting the higher grade,” you close your eyes, letting the story unravel. “She wanted to build you up before breaking you down, and back then I was vulnerable and thrived on attention, so I thought nothing of it.” 

You hear a breathy exhale from his side, as if it pains him to continue, “But obviously, it wasn’t true and I only realized it until I was way too deep. I liked you, so much. Heck, I think I might’ve loved you. We were so wrapped up in this relationship I even convinced myself it was real, until Jennie said she’d crush you at prom night.

“I should’ve tried harder to convince us not to go. I should’ve told Jennie to fuck off. I should’ve come clean. I should’ve done something,” his fist bangs against your door, the vibrations of the impact thrumming in your back, “seeing you so beautiful in that dress all heartbroken because I didn’t act sooner. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Hearing him pour his heart out is like watching your memories in his shoes. The pieces find homes and paint a picture left unfinished. 

“And then when you showed up at my doorstep, I was so angry. I knew you felt it. But I wasn’t upset at you, I was upset at myself. I felt so fucking guilty. I hated how easy it was for you to let me back into your life. I hated how easy it was to fall for you all over again. I knew how much I didn’t deserve your forgiveness, but you gave it to me and I was too selfish to refuse. I had so much fun, the most fun I’ve had in awhile. 

“I’m sorry I kissed you. I didn’t intend for it to I just, I couldn’t help myself. And then I was so scared that I turned away and made the second biggest regret to date.

“But it proves that we’re not meant to be together. I don’t deserve you,” the last part is hushed, a nail in the coffin, “we can’t turn back the time, but if I could I would change it all. I would be by your side and make your world even better than it is right now. I’m sorry it’s too late.” 

You clutch your mouth, suppressing the cries that muffle through the door. You hear Jungkook get up from your old carpet, turn the other way and head downstairs. 

Your first love just closed the chapter for you. His words show how much he cared for you, but didn’t know how to express it. How immature he was, how he realized everything too late. And now, he wants to set you free. Even if it is a good thing, it still tears you to shreds. 

Moving to your vanity, you pull out the chair and lean your head on the table, eyes poking through your hair. You look awful. The skin under your waterline is puffy and your eyes are red and bloodshot. Your forearms feel greasy, and you lift them up to reveal glitter painting the entirety of your skin. Your eyes dart to the open glitter, the package that Jimin gifted to you that fateful prom night. The compact is broken in half and left on the table, probably a product of your younger cousins fiddling through your old room. 

Ignoring the sticky feeling, you let yourself continue to cry. You feel like you’re stuck in the bathroom of the prom venue, waiting for an opportunity to sneak out and go. 

But you want nothing more than to go back to that moment. As amazing as your twenty-seven year old life is, you’re not ready for it. You don’t want a life without Jungkook, or a life having to constantly catch up and mend your relationship with Jimin. You don’t want to be the backstabbing bitch that tips off other magazines, or the two-faced woman who messes around with others for the sake of pleasure.

You long to go back. You long to live and grow. To be seventeen and have time to grow in-between. 

When you lift your head from your vanity, you’re ten years younger.

You scream. 

Your parents dash to your room with a kitchen knife and a confused face. With a wary smile and a teary gaze you say that it’s only a pimple. Your mother giggles and drops the knife, hugging you and helping you conceal the invisible mark. The hug is so warm and so missed that you nearly sigh in content. You’ve missed them. 

It’s a little strange to think well beyond your years, your brain still reeling from the trip you’ve just had. Your hands smooth over your body, the previous curves and maturity hidden away in your skin. That’s okay, you don’t mind waiting anymore. There’s much more important things at hand. 

If Jungkook isn’t going to realize his mistakes until it’s too late, you have to speed up the process. 

Stealing your parent’s keys and hopping in your Accord, you drive off to Jungkook’s. Hair and makeup not done, and still in your plain shirt and jeans. An hour from now, Jungkook will text you saying his car is down and he’ll meet you at the venue. 

It’s still rush hour, so he doesn’t notice when you park a few houses down. He’s sitting on his front porch, looking out the road. There’s really nothing in front of him, he’s just staring aimlessly, probably nervous about what’s about to go down tonight. You suppress a sigh, engraving the vision to memory. He looks great in his fitted black suit and tie, a little silver pocket square on the breast to match your dress. 

He gets up quickly when he sees you, as if caught in the act. Staring at your plain clothes he asks, “Bun, why aren’t you dressed? Prom’s soon—”

“Jungkook, I want to break up.” 

You see it in his eyes. Vulnerability. No longer do you feel insecure, the future told you that Jungkook genuinely did care for you back then. Or in this case, right now. His usual cheery expression crumples at your feet, and his hands fall at his sides. It feels a little unfair, knowing that you have experience under your belt, and Jungkook’s experiencing these feelings for the first time, unprepared. 

“What?” he wilts, “why?” 

“I know about Jennie’s plan,” you say instantly, unfazed. You give him a tight-lipped smile when realization hits his face. “So I know this whole relationship is orchestrated. The sewing sample fiasco is wrong, obviously. But I’m not going to get mad at you, I know she played you as much as she played me,” you clasp the straps of your purse, stopping you from fidgeting, “we graduate in a few months anyway. We don’t have to see or talk about this ever again. You should go enjoy your prom night with your other friends.” 

The present-day Jungkook is still young and confused. He’s at a loss, looking like he’s on sensory overload as he absorbs all the information. You see his eyes flicker to where your Accord is parked, your prom dress hanging on one of the arm pulls. You never even pulled it out of the bag. 

“Here,” you pull his corsage from your purse, placing the white rose atop the porch. If you try to put it on him, you fear you may never leave. With a determined huff, you turn around in the direction of your car.

“Where are you going?” he asks, clutching the railing of his porch, “what about prom?” 

“I have other plans,” you shrug over your shoulder, “have a good night.” 

You don’t look back, although you feel Jungkook’s stare burning in your head. You take great care in going into drive and punching in a new destination in your clunky GPS. This time you have to do things one at a time, once you get your Tesla ten years from now, you’re sure this process will be much easier. 

Jimin’s family comes out of the airport, looking impeccable as always. Ten years younger, with puffy cherub cheeks and bright eyes. To your surprise (but also all things considered, it’s Jimin), your best friend comes out in a three-piece suit. It’s burgundy, and suits his dark hair well. He places his luggage into your car, hugs his family good-bye and waits for them to depart in their cab. 

“You are all dressed up, and for what,” you chuckle, driving out of the airport.

“Well, when you sent that voicemail that you’d be waiting for me, I changed in the bathroom,” Jimin quips, already fiddling with your radio to play some poppy overplayed music, “but why aren’t you dressed? I thought we were going to be fashionably late to prom. Spill.”

“Hm, let’s talk about it in the morning. I wanna enjoy my prom night,” and you reach over to ruffle Jimin’s soft black strands, “y’know, you’d look really sexy as a blond.” 

He pulls down your mirror, positioning it over his face. Pursing his plush lips, he tilts his head. “Yeah, maybe when I’m older,” he grins at his reflection, “so if we’re not going to prom, let’s go get pizza.” 

So the two of you get pizza. But not before you take your prom pictures. Your parents meet you at the park with their old digital camera, ready for your impromptu photoshoot. Jimin uses an old tarp to cover the car up while you change in the car, shimmying in your sparkly silver tulle dress. Your hair is held up and away from your face, looking clean enough to be presentable as you pose for the camera. The two of you pick yellow dandelions from the grass, matching flowers as last minute dates. Your parents coo and are happy for you, knowing that even if you don’t attend the actual dance, the pictures will last forever and you’ll smile at them for years. 

Eventually you tell Jimin about Jungkook and the whole fiasco (sans the ten year mental time jump.) The reaction is expected, Jimin says he wants to fuck Jungkook up. Surprisingly for him, he doesn’t have to do much to console you. In fact, you sip coolly from your smoothie and say Jungkook will probably let Jimin get a punch in even though Jungkook can bench press his tiny body in half. But you tell him you’re okay, and all you want to do is go home and binge watch. 

Jimin carries the pie in his lap while you pull up your driveway. The smell of toasty cheese and fresh dough fill your car. 

“I want to watch Sky City,” Jimin sing-songs, “Kim Seokjin is God’s gift!” 

You crinkle your nose, “He’s alright.” 

“What! You thought he was so hot like, last week.” 

“Things change.” 

Jimin makes it to your room first, saying he’ll take care of setting things up. He’ll probably steal all the available cushions and make a fort for himself while he puts a picnic blanket on the floor in front of your television. You can imagine him hogging all your stuffed animals, placing it on his side of the carpet while he rifles through your drawers so he can change out of his suit. 

Your parents tell you to take out the trash before you have fun tonight. Careful not to get your dress dirty, you hold it away from your body as you waddle out the front door. You make it two steps into the driveway before the soggy trash bag is whisked from your hands.

“I got it,” Jungkook says quietly, and it takes little to no effort for him to haul the large bag into the waiting trash can. His shoulders are slumped under his white button-up, his suit jacket probably stuffed somewhere in the back of the car. 

“Jungkook,” you reply, dumbfounded, “it’s only eight, prom isn’t even over yet.” 

“I know… but then I realized you weren’t gonna get your money’s worth if you didn’t go. I asked the waitress if she could get me a doggie bag for my date and,” he holds up a stapled bag, presumably the dinner that was supposed to be served, “it’s your favorite.” 

“Thank you,” you give him a small, grateful smile as you accept the bag. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.” 

He bites his lip, stuffing his hands in his dress pockets. “A-and you told me before you left that I should go spend prom night with my friends,” he ruffles his hair, blown out of the pomade and falling into his eyes, “and then I realized that you were right. Jennie and all those people out there aren’t really my friends. They like my rep and they like my attention, but they don’t like me.” 

You shake your head, “Jungkook, you’re very likable. Jennie and her group are just one bad bunch.” 

“But I don’t wanna be liked by my rep. I wanna be liked for the things I love,” he steps a hesitant step towards you, and he relaxes when he sees that you don’t recoil, “I haven’t told anyone this. But I want to drop that sports scholarship. I applied to an art school, and I got in.” 

Suppressing a grin with a bite of your lips, you cheer silently in your head. Things are changing. “I’m so happy for you, Jungkook. Congrats.” 

“And I’m sorry for all the fucked up things I did. Jennie may have manipulated me but I definitely was a big part of it,” Jungkook pulls the words out of the sky, finally having enough time to formulate an apology, “but please don’t doubt for a second that my feelings are fake. I really like you, and I wish we got to know each other under better circumstances.”

“I wish we could’ve,” you echo sadly. “But our futures—” 

“I don’t want to lose you.” 

“I liked you, so much. Heck, I think I might’ve loved you.”

You shake your head, frowning at his kicked puppy expression. “I’m considering a fashion school in Europe,” you reach for Jungkook’s hand, squeezing it. Letting him know that everything’s going to be okay. “You and Jimin can visit me during the breaks, Europe has some great spots to photograph.” 

Something in Jungkook’s gaze tells you that it’s not enough for him. He wants to be selfish and hold onto you tighter, but you know that’s not good for the both of you right now. “That’d be nice,” he says vaguely, giving you a pained smile. 

Jungkook rubs his thumb over your hand, relishing in the softness of your skin. “You look really pretty,” he says, looking forlornly over the dress. He can only imagine how ethereal you’d look under the fairy lights that decorated the venue, “I wish we could’ve had one dance.” 

You shrug, “The night’s still young,” you gesture to the space in the driveway, and the lights that overhead the garage. 

The slow Taylor Swift music that plays from his pocket is muffled, but it doesn’t deter either of you as he places his hands on your waist and you wrap his around his neck. You’re wearing your bunny house slippers and Jungkook’s neck is moist from his nervous sweats, but you know that this memory will be engraved in your brain for years to come. 

It feels good to know that from now on, you don’t have to be so concerned about the future now that you’ve had a taste of it. All you want now is to take it one day at a time. At this moment the, the only thing you want to do is focus on how you’re going to hold onto Jungkook for the last time. At least for now, who knows what will happen in the future. 

“I really want to kiss you, Bun,” he leans in, foreheads touching, “but I don’t deserve it.” 

“You’re right,” you tease, “you don’t.” 

He frowns playfully, “Ouch. But fair.” 

Yet you figure you’ve made enough headway these past few weeks, and you deserve to be a little selfish. One last kiss, you think to yourself. Your fingers flatten against the pressed material of his collar, meeting in the middle to clutch Jungkook’s slim black tie. Jungkook bites his lip, looking down at you for permission. With the tiniest of nods, you get on your tippy toe toes you lean forward and you can smell the apple cider lingering on his lips—

“Ohmygod—are you broken up or not!” both of you whip your heads up to see Jimin hanging over your open window, looking absolutely bored. His arms dangle over your sill, wearing a frayed high school jumper. “Either tell him to get lost or invite him over to watch television because I’m hungry!” 

You pull away from him fully, squeezing his biceps. “Want pizza?” 

He shakes his head, “I think it’s a trap. Jimin’s waiting for me to come up so he can rip my head off,” he gives a tentative wave to the second floor, but Jimin just scoffs and goes back inside, “but I’ll see you Monday.” 

“Okay. Good night, Kook.” 

“Good night, Bun.” 

Your heart pinches a little as you watch him drive away. Before, you knew what the end game was between you two. It didn’t end pretty. Now, you’re not so sure. At the very least, it isn’t ending on a sour note. 

Some time later.

“Your majesty,” you give her a practiced smile, taking careful measures not to brush the lady’s shoulders too hard in the fear she’ll whittle away, “emerald is an impeccable color on you.” 

The Queen of England (the McDuckin' Queen of England!) just laughs at you and waves you off. You can’t believe you’re photographing a real queen. This is like the childhood equivalent of meeting Malibu Barbie. You thank every single choice and mistake you’ve made in your entire life that has brought you up to this impeccable moment. She’s a vision, you could cry. In fact, you’ll cry later in the comfort of your hotel room. “Do you think the photographer will take long?” she asks, frowning, “I have drinks with my friends in an hour.” 

You smirk, pleased to know she’s still kicking it in her golden years. “Yeah, just so long as my husband doesn’t get distracted. Fifteen minutes, tops.” 

“I’m not distracted,” Jungkook huffs, pulling away from his tripod. He gives up on trying to stabilize the camera, instead preferring to go freehand for this one. He gives you an incredulous look, hands on his hips, “I have two queens in my viewfinder and I only got room for one. Get out of the shot, Bun.” 

With a playful roll of your eyes, you step away from the lady of the hour to let Jungkook do his thing. He’s right in his element, blurting choreographed poses and telling the lighting people to move at his beck and call to get the perfect angle. You stand a distance behind him, letting him take control. 

“I’m so hungry,” your whisper is low enough to blend between the jazz music, but loud enough for Jungkook’s ears to listen in, “please tell me you’re almost done.” 

“Oui, oui.” 

“Wrong language, Kook. Please don’t offend anyone,” and discreetly, you take one step closer in your Tory Burch flats, “did you get any candids of me and the Queen?” 

“Duh, Bun,” you can’t see his face but you know he’s grinning, “Jimin will faint.” 

"Oh, yes! Thank you, I love you," you gush, reaching over to discreetly pinch his butt. 

He shakes his head, looking over his shoulder to give you a brief smirk, "Show me how thankful you are tonight." 

So silly, you think. It's amazing how well you work together as two separate entities of a photoshoot yet share a brain cell in the presence of each other. In another world, Jungkook said if given the chance, he'd be by your side and make your world a better place. 

Ten years later, it's exactly that and more. 

[waitimcomingtoo]

hi bestie! xmas request for u <333 could you do one where the avengers clearly know that peter and the reader like eachother, so they (very undiscreetly) place mistletoes literally everywhere in the hq to get the lil babies of the groups to kiss? thank uuuuuuu love u!

Under The Mistletoe

pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Masterlist

“Good morning everyone.” You greeted the Avengers as you walked in the kitchen one morning.

“Good morning.” Peters eyes followed you as you sat down next to him at the table. “I made you hot chocolate.”

“You did? You’re so sweet.” You took the mug from him and kissed his forehead. “Thank you.”

“Well you mentioned last night that you were always freezing in the morning so I thought this would warm you up.” Peter smiled sweetly at you, face flushed from the kiss.

“You’re too good to me. I was gonna put some whip cream on it. Do you want some?” You offered as you went to the refrigerator.

“Sure. Thank you.” Peter nodded as you put some whip cream on his hot chocolate. The rest of the Avengers watched the interaction, exchanging knowing glances every once in a while.

“So, what did you guys do last night?” Natasha asked curiously as she leaned on her hand.

“We went on patrol together and then walked around the city. It was snowing so it was really pretty.” You smiled as you remembered the night before. Natasha and Bruce made eye contact, giving each other a knowing look.

“Didn’t you get cold?” Bruce asked for his own amusement.

“My suit has a built in heater.” Peter told him.

“But Y/n’s suit doesn’t.” Tony added, understanding what was going on.

“Peter had his arm around me so the heat kept us both warm.” You told them as you sipped your mug, making everyone gush.

“Uh huh.” Tony nodded as he watched Peter put his arm around your chair. “So you went for a moonlit stroll through the city. Pretty romantic, don’t you think? Was it a date?”

“What?” Peter sputtered. “No.”

“We’re just friends.” You nodded a few too many times.

“You got some whip cream on your face.” Peter noticed the white dollop on your nose.

“Oh. Oops.” You laughed in embarrassment and went to wipe it off.

“I got it.” Peter wiped your face with his thumb, leaving both of you in a blushing mess.

“Thanks.” You giggled, gazing lovingly into his eyes.

“Right. Just friends.” Rhodey grimaced as he watched the disgusting love fest in front of him.

“So what are you doing today?” Natasha asked, finding the whole situation hysterical.

“We were gonna watch some holiday movies in my room before patrol.” Peter told her.

“Speaking of that, do you want to get started?” You asked him. “We have a lot to get through.”

“Sure. Bye guys.” Peter waved before resting his hand on the small of your back and leading you out of the room. Once you left, the Avengers let out the collective laugh they had been holding in.

“So…they’re in love, right? We can agree on that?” Tony asked as he looked around the room, seeing everyone nod at him.

“I have never seen anyone so whipped.” Rhodey laughed as he sipped his coffee.

“How have they not admitted their feelings?” Nat asked the room. “It’s so obvious.”

“This is worse than me and Nat.” Steve commented.

“Or me and Nat.” Bruce added.

“Or me and Nat.” Tony agreed.

“When are those crazy kids gonna get together?” Steve chuckled as he opened the newspaper.

“This gives me an idea.” Tony narrowed his eyes as he got a familiar devilish glint in his eyes.

“Oh no.” Steve recognized the glint. “This can’t be good.”

“By the end of the holiday season, I want Y/n and Peter to be together.” Tony said decidedly. “This will require a group effort in making it happen. In the weeks leading up to the holidays, I expect each and every one of you to get our dear Peter and Y/n to realize they like each other.”

“How do you expect us to do that?” Nat humored him.

“You will all plant mistletoe somewhere in the building.” Tony grinned wickedly. “The mistletoe that gets the most kisses out of them wins.”

“Wins what?” Bruce asked, just as intrigued as the rest of the team.

“Whatever you want. I don’t know if the giant building with my name on it gave it away, but I have money.” Tony stated. “Lots of it. Or how about this, the winner can pick and design a new room to be added to the tower.”

“I could use a physical therapy room.” Rhodey spoke up. “I don’t know if you guys remember, but my legs don’t work on their own anymore ever since I fell out of the sky.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.” Steve realized.

“Yeah. Nobody really talks about that.” Bruce agreed.

“I think we could all benefit from a new training room.” Nat threw in. “The old one has a permanent sweaty man smell.”

“We already have a training room. What we really need is some personal up keeping. Keeping myself this blonde is not cheap. A hair parlor in the building would be nice.” Steve suggested.

“Parlor.” Tony chuckled under his breath.

“I second that.” Bucky piped up.

“Of course you do, Jared Leto.” Tony teased.

“We don’t need a hair salon. What we need is another lab.” Bruce declared.

“Or a ballet studio.” Nat gasped.

“I think we should install an Olive Garden.” Bucky shrugged.

“How about a room full of murals of myself?” Thor smiled. “You can all gaze upon them and push yourself to stop being tiny and small.”

“Or another gym.” Rhodey shrugged.

“Or a wine cellar. But for beer! A beer cellar.” Thor cheered.

“We can discuss the room later.” Tony quieted everyone down. “If you really want these things, get the kids together. You know what you have to do.”

Tony

You and Peter often ate breakfast together in the same spot everyday, and Tony used that information to his advantage. He skillfully hung some mistletoe above your usual seats and patiently waited for your arrival. Soon enough, Tony heard your footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“Hey Petey.” You rubbed Peter’s back before taking a seat next to him. “Hi Mr. Stark.”

“Hey guys.” Tony smiled before looking up and gasping. “Oh golly gee, would ya look at that? Mistletoe! Who put that there?”

“Oh, wow.” Peter said as he looked up to see mistletoe hanging above the two of you. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Yeah. I probably wouldn’t have looked up if you hadn’t pointed it out.” You said skeptically as you eyed Tony.

“Ha.” Tony forced a laugh. “Well, now you see it. Bye!”

He quickly left the room and hid behind a wall where he could watch his plan unfold.

“That wasn’t at all weird.” You chuckled as you turned in your seat.

“He probably put Red Bull in his protein shake again.” Peter laughed as well, fingers brushing yours a little on the table.

“Yeah.” You nodded, suddenly feeling awkward now that you were both aware of the mistletoe hanging above your heads. You both looked away from each other, red in the face and sneaking occasional glances at the plant.

“I, um, I’ve never actually seen mistletoe in person before.” Peter said to break the silence. “I’ve only heard about it in songs.”

“Me too.” You nodded rapidly. “Or in movies and stuff.”

“Yeah.” Peter gulped. “And stuff.”

You looked at each other for a moment, shy smiles on your faces.

“I mean, since it’s both of our first times getting caught under it, it’d be a shame not to honor the tradition.” You suggested sheepishly as you averted your eyes.

“Right.” Peter said quickly. “It’s tradition. We basically have to.”

“Yeah. It’s practically a right of passage for the holiday season.” You said simply as you leaned closer to Peter.

“Exactly.” Peter agreed, leaning in as well. Your faces were almost touching now, just a few more inches until contact.

“Um.” You let out a nervous laugh before shutting your eyes and leaning in. Peter met you the rest of the way, your lips connecting directly under the mistletoe. You smiled a little into the kiss before pressing your hand to his cheek to keep him in place. Peter pulled away after a minute, gazing fondly in your eyes as he opened them. He’d been waiting to kiss you for the longest time, and it was just as perfect as he imagined.

“Thanks.” Peter said, squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment after he said it.

“You’re welcome.” You laughed at him, squeezing his shoulder in admiration.

“I’m glad we could, erm, fulfill the tradition.” Peter laughed at his own awkwardness as he shook his head.

“Me too.” You nodded with a flushed face. “I feel more in the holiday spirit already.”

“Same, same.” Peter trailed off, looking around the room to distract from the awkwardness.

“Can we just pretend that didn’t happen and eat our breakfast?” You requested, looking at him shyly.

“Please.” Peter agreed. “It never happened.”

Rhodey

Bruce was making his way to the lab when he saw Rhodey hiding behind a wall, staring at hanging mistletoe.

“Why are you standing here?” Bruce whispered as he stood behind Rhodey.

“I told Y/n to meet me in the kitchen and I’m sending her a bunch of texts so she keeps her eyes on her phone. I also told Peter to meet me in the theater. They’ll have to go through that doorway where I strategically placed mistletoe. Once they bump into each other, they’ll have to kiss and I’ll get a point.” Rhodey explained his masterplan in a hushed tone.

“Why do you want them to bump into each other? Can’t they just see each other in the doorway?” Bruce whispered back.

“Man, have you ever seen a romantic comedy?” Rhodey sighed. “The girl has to bump into the boy so he knows she’s clumsy and not like other girls.”

“I think you’re getting a little too invested in this. It’s just a room.” Bruce reminded him, beginning to think he was behind on the contest.

“Its not about the room.” Rhodey insisted. “I just want to beat Rogers and his stupid parlor.”

“Shh.” Bruce hushed him. “Here they come.”

Bruce and Rhodey watched as you and Peter smacked into each other in the doorway.

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t looking.” Peter said as he caught you from falling.

“That’s okay. I wasn’t looking either.” You smiled at him, staying in his arms.

“How are you gonna get them to notice the mistletoe?” Bruce whispered.

Rhodey silently took out a large fan and switched it on, sending a breeze towards you and Peter. The breeze made the bells on the mistletoe chime, causing you and Peter to look up.

“Is that mistletoe?” He asked as he pointed to it.

“It looks like it.” You commented. “I guess Mr. Stark decorated the tower.”

“Kinda crazy we got caught under it twice.” Peter chuckled nervously, hoping he’d get the chance to kiss you again.

“I know. But hey, it’s tradition.” You shrugged, also hoping you’d get to kiss him.

“Yeah. Tradition.” Peter was barely listening to himself speak as he stared at your lips. You laughed a little as your arms went around his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss. It was just as good as the first time, if not better. You pulled away after a moment and sighed against his mouth.

“I, um, I gotta meet Rhodey in the nitchken.” You stumbled over your words.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to see him in the popcorn palace.” Peter spoke, not even knowing what he was saying.

“I’ll see you later, Petey.” You squeezed his arm gently and made your way to the kitchen.

“Bye.” Peter mumbled before going to the theater. Rhodey turned to Bruce with a boastful grin and held a finger to symbolize the point he has just gotten. Bruce swallowed nervously, realizing he had to get on it if he wanted to win.

Bruce

“Banner.” Tony came to Bruce’s side with a suspicious look. “You look awfully devious today.”

“You’re much more likely to walk next to someone than to be caught under a doorway with them. That’s why I put a bouquet of roses and mistletoe on the table between their rooms. Every time they pass it, they’ll have to kiss.” Bruce explained as he turned to Tony with bloodshot eyes. He had been working on the plan all night and it showed.

“You unsuspecting genius.” Tony gasped.

“How is that unsuspected?” Bruce deadpanned. “I’m a certified genius. That’s why I was recruited.

“Yeah? And I’m a certified freak. 7 days a week.” Tony said as he stared at the bouquet of mistletoe. It didn’t take long for you and Peter to come out of your rooms and meet in front of the bouquet.

“Hey, Petey.” You greeted him. “What are you up to?”

“I was gonna grab a snack and then watch Dance Moms compilations.” Peter told you.

“Without me?” You pretended to be offended.

“I was gonna ask you to join.” Peter rolled his eyes sarcastically.

“I’d love to.” You smiled at him. “Let’s go.”

“Wait, is this mistletoe?” Peter realized the bouquet right as you were about to leave.

“Damn, it’s everywhere, huh?” You laughed as you touched the roses, warmed by the color.

“Do we still have to kiss of its not over our heads?” Peter wondered.

“Yes!” Bruce whispered sharply.

“You heard that too right?” Your eyes widened as you looked around for where the voice came from.

“Yeah. I thought it was my conscience.” Peter sighed in relief. Your eyes flickered from the bouquet to Peter, back to the bouquet.

“I mean, we might as well kiss.” You shrugged. “Mistletoe is still mistletoe.”

“You’re right. It would be a waste not to.” Peter nodded eagerly.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” You smiled as you pulled him into a kiss. This kiss lasted longer than usual as you both let it linger.

“The plan was smart but you only got one kiss out of it.” Tony whispered to Bruce as you and Peter went to the kitchen.

“Just wait.” Bruce told him. Some enough, you and Peter returned with an armful of snacks.

“Oh, we passed it again.” Peter said robotically, knowing you’d pass it again.

“Oops.” You said sarcastically. “I guess we have to kiss again.”

“Ugh. Every time.” Peter rolled his eyes as he pulled you towards his lips. You gripped his shirt collar and continued kissing him as you pulled him into your room.

“See?” Bruce smirked. “Certified genius.”

Down the hall, Natasha had seen the whole thing, chewing her lips as she came up with a plan.

Natasha

Natasha set her plan in motion a few days later, waiting in the kitchen for you as she stirred a bowl of muffin mix. Peter sat at the counter, reading over one of Bruce’s articles in a book. You came into the kitchen wearing an ugly Christmas sweater that matched Peters, the sight of you making Peter smile.

“Hi Nat.” You beamed at her as you took a seat next to Peter at the kitchen counter. “Whatcha making?”

“I’m making muffins with the berries from mistletoe.” Nat said cheerfully. “They should be really good.”

“You bake?” You asked curiously. “You mean they taught you culinary skills when training you to be an assassin?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. For example, I love ballet. We might even be getting a ballet studio in the tower soon.” She said coyly, making you and Peter exchange a suspicious glance.

“Wow. That’ll be really cool.” Peter played along, skeptically of her intentions.

“Right? Does this look okay to you guys?” Nat asked as she held the mistletoe above your head. “I can’t tell it it’s good to use or not.”

“It looks fine to me.” Peter shrugged as he looked up at it.

“Oh, silly me.” Nat clicked her tongue. “You guys are totally under it. I guess you’ll have to kiss.”

You and Peter exchanged another look before pecking each other on the lips.

“Hmm. I still can’t tell. Can you check again?” Nat asked as she held it up again.

“It still looks fine.” You told her, growing suspicious.

“And you still have to kiss.” She sighed like it was an inconvenience. You narrowed your eyes at her before kissing Peter on the cheek.

“Are you guys sure it’s okay? One more time, please.” Nat held it over your heads a final time. Peter looked at you skeptically before leaning in for a kiss. Both of you were well aware of the sneaky smile on Natashas face.

“Wait, let me see if I can find another one.” Natasha took another bunch of mistletoe out of her grocery bag and pretended to inspect it. She made a whole show of it, making it look like she simply couldn’t find out if it was okay to use. She sighed sadly and looked to you guys for help before holding it up. You and Peter laughed in disbelief before kissing on the lips.

“Wow. Did I accidentally make you guys kiss 4 times?” Nat spoke loudly, as id she was letting all the people in the tower know. “That’s a lot. Looks like we’ll be getting that ballet studio after all.”

“Yeah. That is a lot.” Thor appeared in the doorway upon hearing Natashas declaration. He eyed you and Peter with a ponderous look on his face, becoming aware that he was losing the competition.

“Oops. I just remembered that mistletoe is poisonous.” Nat finished her bit. “Guess I won’t be making these! Bye guys!”

She swiftly left the room, leaving the mistletoe on the counter. You and Peter looked at each other, equally confused about what was happening. Thor walked further into the kitchen and pretended to take interest in the mistletoe. He held it up over his head before holding it over you and Peter.

“Are you two sure this mistletoe is good for use?” He asked, stealing Nat’s idea.

“We’re not kissing for you.” Peter told him flatly.

“I never liked you anyway.” Thor stated as he dropped the mistletoe and left the kitchen. He wandered the tower until he found Pepper reading in the living room.

“Pans. I have some bad news.” Thor sighed as he laid on the couch like he was in a therapists office. “The competition your husband started is rigged.”

“Why do you say that?” Pepper wondered.

“Because I’m losing!” Thor whined. “Gods do not lose to humans. Unless it’s a contest for tiny people.”

“How many kisses have you gotten?” Pepper asked, well aware of the contest.

“0 so far.” He sighed. “Everyone else has four or five. Banner has seven!”

“So you just have to come up with a plan that blows everyone else out of the water.” Pepper shrugged.

“Like what?”

“Everyone else has gotten them to kiss, right?” Pepper asked.

“Yes.” Thor nodded.

“You can get them to date.” Pepper said like it was simple.

“Why, that’s brilliant! Thank you, Pans!” Thor cheered as he got off the couch. “You have done me well.”

“You’re welcome.” Pepper chuckled as she flipped the page.

“Wait, your husband is also in this competition.” Thor realized. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because when Tony wins something, he gets way too cocky and thinks he’s above doing any laundry or cleaning.” Pepper explained. “Someone else has to win or he’ll buy Mexico or something.”

“Thank you, lady Pans.” Thor grinned. “I will not disappoint.”

Thor

“May I come in? I’m just kidding. I am coming in regardless of your answer.” Thor chuckled as he barged into your room. You and Peter had been sitting on the bed, jumping from fear as he came in.

“Hi, Thor.” You said skeptically as Thor pulled up a chair. “Can we help you with something?”

“For the past few weeks, the Avengers have been holding a stupid contest that I am losing to see who can get you two to kiss the most.” Thor explained. “They have been using mistletoe to carry out this stupid contest.”

“Wait, what?” You and Peter looked at each other in shock. Suddenly, the strange behavior and random mistletoe sightings all made sense.

“That’s why there’s mistletoe everywhere?” You asked. “And why did you guys do this in the first place? Why us?”

“Because you two like each other.” Thor shrugged. “And everyone knows it. Except for you two. You don’t know it.”

“What?” Peter sputtered. “We do not-“

“Shh.” Thor hushed him. “Don’t talk to me. Talk to each other. You’re welcome.”

Thor smiled kindly before getting out of his chair and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him.

“I can’t believe they did this.” Peter groaned. “Forcing us to kiss because they think we like each other? Who comes up with that?”

“I know right?” You agreed. “How we feel about each other is none of their business.”

“Exactly. And what do they know? If I liked you, I think I would know.” Peter forced a laugh, well aware that he liked you.

“Yeah. We would know.” You nodded before looking at him skeptically. “We would know, right?”

“I don’t know.” Peter answered honestly. “It’s kinda hard to tell how I feel about you. I never know if something that happens between us is platonic or romantic.”

“Me either.” You spoke softly as you put your hand on his. “Kissing isn’t really platonic, though.”

“I guess not.” Peter chuckled as he looked at you. You stared at him for a moment, heart beating in your ears as you thought out your next step.

“Peter, do you like me?” You asked slowly, looking at him through your eyelashes.

“Um, kinda, yeah.”

“Kinda?” You laughed softly at his answer.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed and squeezed your hand. “I don’t know what to say in this situation.”

“Just tell me how you feel.” You shrugged.

“I feel like I’ve been lingering around places where the mistletoe in hopes that you’ll walk by and kiss me.” Peter confessed, looking at you with a shy smile.

“Well that’s not platonic.” You teased him, leaning into him a little.

“No, it’s not.” Peter agreed. Your eyes flicked to his lips briefly before leaning in to kiss him, pulling his face closer to yours with the hand that wasn’t holding his. He kissed you back once he got over the surprise, sitting up straighter to get closer to you.

“You don’t need mistletoe to kiss me, Petey.” You whispered once you pulled away. “You can do it whenever you want.”

“I’m gonna take you up on that.” Peter smiled softly at you.

“I hope you do.” You flirted before connecting your lips to his again. On the other side of the door, Thor had his ear pressed up against the crack, listening to every word with a huge grin.

“I am so going to win this contest.”

Tag List 🏷

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[volleychumps]

Could I please request an imagine where seijoh has a cute first year manager and everyone crushes on her. Plus their reactions when they find out she’s dating terushima.

Aww yes!!!! I can definitely see a lot of the first and second years hardcore crushing on their manager, and the third years (minus Oikawa) being a bit protective over their cute first year. Thank you for the request!!!

All creds to the creator of this gif!

The Shock to Seijoh

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

“Kunimi, come get pumped for this set with me!” 

“I am pumped. Don’t tell me what to do, Kindaichi.” 

“He says with no emotion whatsoever. Do you ever not feel angsty?” Yahaba quips as Kunimi’s eyes narrow to glare slightly at the second year, who sticks his tongue out as he remains unfazed at the harshness directed towards him. You frown, hearing the whole conversation as you slow your steps from walking with the third years, clearing your throat. 

“Yahaba, what did I say about messing with Kunimi before a game?” You raise a hand to pat Kunimi’s back as Yahaba immediately changes his behavior, slightly embarrassed he had made your cute self do that thing where you puff your cheeks slightly with air. 

“Not to...” 

“Good. I don’t need my boys fighting when you need to be out there as a team. Did you forget that?” You raise both hands to pat both Yahaba’s and Kindaichi’s heads before offering the three underclassmen a bright smile, satisfied with their unanimous responses. You fail to notice the blush on Kindaichi’s cheeks, the redness on Kunimi’s ears, and the nervous twiddling of thumbs of Yahaba as Seijoh enters the court. 

“What are you, our coach?” 

“Was that attitude, Kunimi?” 

“....I suppose not.” 

“Oi. Little one.” Matsukawa motions you over as the boys begin to set their bags down on the bench, Oikawa holding his hands up to you with a pout, signalling he wanted you to help him with his stretches. Iwaizumi promptly flicks him in the head with an irritable glare as Hanamaki jogs over to where you now stood with Hanamaki, helping pull Oikawa’s arms. 

“Jozenji. We know about their players but not really about how they play as a team. Do you know anything?” 

Shockingly, the upperclassmen watch as their first year manager they all took a silent vow to protect suddenly becomes nervous. Your usual determined attitude was now replaced with a timid one as you clear your throat, sheepish grin making it’s way onto your face as the team began to gather, causing you to groan internally. 

“U-Um...they have sort of a wild way of playing-” 

“She’s nervous.” 

“What-no I’m not-” 

“She’s stuttering. Iwa she’s stuttering.” 

“I can hear, dumbass.” 

“Wait, why would you know how they play as a team?” Matsukawa presses, looming over you like an older brother as you bite your lip. Dammit. 

“Something you’re not telling us, shrimp?” Hanamaki uses your head as an arm rest as you shuffle uncomfortably, laughing sheepishly. 

“What? Why would I-?” 

“She’s deflecting.” 

“Kunimi! No!” You say a little too forcibly as Yahaba slings an arm around your shoulder, leaning in to you with a teasing grin. 

“You’re hiding something~” 

“Watari, please you’re the only sane one, get these idiots ready to get on the court!” 

“I...I’m also kind of interested in why you’re acting like this.” 

Before you can claim it was your womanly time of the month in order to get a majority of them to shift away uncomfortably, the sound of the other team’s sneakers squeaking on the court causes your breath to hitch in your throat. 

Well, this was a predicament. 

“Yahaba, get off-!” 

“Why so suspicious, Y/N?”

“Oho! Just what is happening to my baby over here?” 

A familiar voice sounds in your ears as a pair of sneakers sounds as if their approaching, and you pinch the bridge of your nose. Great. 

“Yoo-Hoo! Y/N, why is my cute girlfriend lost in a sea of men?” 

You blanch as you find sudden interest in your feet, Yahaba removing himself from your shoulder in a confused manner as you feel a strong, yet familiar arm replace it. 

The Seijoh team all immediately grew tense as the captain of the Jozenji team uses one of his arms to pull you into his chest, a quick kiss being placed on the top of your head as you find yourself too shocked to respond. 

Was this seriously how you were going to tell your boys you had just recently gotten a boyfriend?

“...Hi Yuji.” You mumble, embarrassed as you feel the shocked stares of the team you manage trained on your connected figures. 

“This your team babes? Are they nice to you? Why are they all gathered around you like some wolf pack?” 

You look up, signalling with your eyes warnings as Terushima grins down at you, and you bite back a groan. The guy you were dating had no filter, apparently. 

“Y/N...you have a boyfriend?” Iwaizumi, surprisingly, is the first one to say something as you nod once, still not meeting any of their eyes. Why did it feel like you were betraying them?

“...so you’re like, sleeping with the enemy?” 

“What?! No!” You exclaim, glaring at Yahaba who raises his hands in defense. “I am not sleeping with him!” 

“...yet. You’re not sleeping with me yet.” 

You panic as Hanamaki and Matsukawa both simutaneously roll up their sleeves, shoving a giggling Terushima away as he pouts at you. 

“You’re making this worse, Yuji!” 

“Don’t keep me a secret then, cutie.” Terushima is slick, and uses your shoving as a way to use your wrist to pull you close so that your noses are brushing. “Shall I mark you as my own in front of all of them?” 

You squeak a little bit at the unexpectedness of the motion, and Terushima is then promptly pushed lightly off of you as Oikawa grins, putting his own hand out to shake his. His smile, however, is anything but kind. 

“Let’s just focus on today’s match, ne?” 

“Y/N, we’re still on for after, right?” Yuji speaks around the captain, and you can practically see the irk mark pop up on Oikawa’s head as you put your head in your hands. 

Terushima was such a little shithead. 

“If I say yes, will you please get on the other side of the court?” 

“Yes, princess.” 

“Then yes.” 

“No kiss good luck?” 

“Yuji, I swear-” 

“Kidding. I’ll get plenty of that later.” Terushima’s wink sends a blush straight to your cheeks as he spins on his heel, the wild boy offering a backwards wave to the Seijoh team. “Good luck, men!” 

The silence that settles around you and your team makes you palm your face. Literally, why?! Why like this? You had found out about Seijoh playing Jozenji that morning, but you had strictly told Terushima you were waiting to tell them about the two of you. 

“I don’t approve.” 

“Same, Makki. Is he blackmailing you, Y/N? Does he have some dirt on you?” Matsukawa questions as you pat the back of a shocked Kindaichi. Iwaizumi steps forward after seeming to be deep in thought. 

“I know a guy-” 

“You are not putting a hit on the captain of the team we’re about to play, Iwa-chan.” 

“Y/N...are you happy?” Kindaichi asks, and you smile a little before nodding. Finally, a question you could answer. 

“Yes. He’s trouble, sometimes, but...I do. I really like him.” 

The tension lessens drastically as the team hesitates. That’s all they wanted for you, right? For you to be happy? 

“I still don’t like him.” 

“You don’t like anyone Kunimi, but you don’t have to.” You reassure your fellow first year, feeling a tad guilty. You weren’t dense, you could tell some of the underclassmen were beginning to develop crushes on you as their manager, but you never would have guessed they might have been deeper than you thought. 

“He has to pass in my book for you to keep seeing him.” Matsukawa declares with a nodding Hanamaki as you roll your eyes, flinching at the sound of the whistle, signalling the teams needed to make their way on to the court. 

“Go! All of you! We can talk about my love life after you win!” 

“If we win, will you break up with that douche?” 

“Yahaba!” 

“Okay, but at least consider it?” 

“If I say yes, will you idiots play your hardest?” 

You sweat drop at the simutaneous nod from all of them as you roll your eyes, knowing that you would most definitely not be changing your mind about Terushima. 

“Yes.” 

“Seems like you’re lying, but I’ll take it.” Kunimi breaks into a jog followed by Kindaichi as you take a deep breath, suddenly exhausted. 

Terushima smirks from the other side of the court, winking at you once as you look away quickly, causing the captain to chuckle. 

Terushima shivered as he felt the aura of the other team that his girlfriend managed take position. He had a feeling that he was in for a potential loss, today. 

Let’s just say Seijoh had never once played with so much fire on their heels ever.

[tavern-aa]

hii !! i hope youre having a great day/night. 

can u do the prompts “Wow, i didn’t realize you were that…flexible.” and/or  “Do you think they can hear us through the tent?” “Yes we can.” for zuko atla ? maybe hes the firelord and they go on a trip to the woods with the rest of the gang ? male reader please.

A/N: Yo…Leviathan wrote this with the help of a friend. Teddy was gonna write this and then said, nah. Not my ZuZu so I was tasked with editing our friends draft and I…may have gone overboard and just like rewritten it even though I have a distaste for smut.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Smut, +18, voyeurism, tons of subtle fire puns sue me

x Male Reader

-

-

-

Smut Prompt: 63

“Wow, I didn’t realize you were that…flexible”

-

Smut Prompt: 110-111

“Do you think they can hear us through the tent?”

“Yes we can.”

-

-

-

They had travelled for hours to make it to the Western Air Temple, their feet heavy and their heads warry, and yet as soon as they set their belongings down, Aang suggested a sparing match. For fun of course, to blow off steam, get everyone a little sleepy so that they could rest a little easier that night. Zuko agreed, partnering up with the air bender whilst Sokka turned to Y/N, the only other non-bender in their group.

Y/N let out a hefty sigh at the look of tired determination on his friends face, “don’t go easy on him, Y/N,” he heard Katara call from where she was setting up the fire to cook for the Gaang’s dinner. Toph walked over to the side and stomped her foot on the ground erecting a tent of rock just large enough for her to fit inside.

Sokka huffed before approaching Y/N for their fight, both landing blows with fist and weapon though the two seemed evenly matched as usual. That changed the moment Y/N’s gaze drifted towards the other men’s fight, his eyes watching as Zuko moved unaware of his stare. Sokka took the opportunity of Y/N’s distraction to land a particularly hard blow to his friends leg swiping it out from under him.

“Point to Sokka!” He exclaimed in excitement as he danced around Y/N’s prone being.

“Shut it, boomerang boy. I was distracted,” Y/N pouted not having noticed the other two had finished their sparring match. Aang laughed loudly at the nickname for Sokka causing him to blush a deep red.

“Stop laughing, Aang! And it was fair, doesn’t matter if you were distracted or not!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

With that, Y/N used his leg to swipe Sokka’s feet out from under him before clambering over and holding the blade of his knife to the other man’s throat.

“How ‘bout that for fair?”

Sokka huffed before pushing the knife away with his finger, pushing Y/N off gently and getting up.

“Yeah yeah, your win again…I’m starving!”

Y/N watched Sokka run over to the camp fire and start bothering Katara before he too made his way closer to the others, grabbing his tent supplies to set up his and Zuko’s shared tent. The two were forced to share a tent due to lack of space; Sokka, Aang, and Katara were sharing the larger tent and Toph made her own so the other two males were left with the smaller tent.

The non-bender tried to set up the shelter as quick as possible, but we all know that tents are stupid and never want to be easy. His ear perked up as he heard the others laughing with eachother, but he paid no mind, instead keeping his focus on the task at hand.

A hand on his shoulder a moment later startled him out of his trance like state of trying to put the pole into the fabric.

“Sorry…I didn’t mean to startle you, it just looked like you needed help with the tent?”

Zuko.

Y/N’s heart hammered in his chest as his eyes turned to meet the other’s.

“Oh, uh…yeah, that would be great,” he muttered. It’s not like he was nervous around Zuko because he was a fire bender, no he was nervous for a much different reason. Zuko had been so kind to him ever since Y/N joined the Gaang, like sure he was close to everyone but Zuko was especially sweet to Y/N and the non-bender didn’t know why.

“Hey, are you feeling okay…by the way? I uh…I noticed you took a pretty hard fall earlier when sparring with Sokka,” Zuko questioned, raising his head momentarily to glance at the smaller male.

“Oh…ha, you saw that huh? Yeah I’m fine, a little sore, but I’m fine.”

“I could stretch you out if you want?”

Y/N’s face grew bright red, his grip on one of the poles turning white as his head snapped in Zuko’s direction.

“Huh?” He managed to squeak out in shock as Zuko looked up in confusion.

“What? Did I say somethi- oh…oh no that’s not- I-…” Zuko quickly cut himself off, his face also a deep crimson color from realization.

“No, no you’re fine, I’m sorry that was on me,” Y/N awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck before standing up from the now pitched tent.

“But I do think I’ll take you up on that offer, I have some really bad kinks in my neck and back.”

Zuko’s face turned a deeper red as he heard Y/N’s words leave his mouth this time causing the smaller man to sputter and stumble over his words.

“Wait- I- no…I just…”

“This is so awkward to watch…” Sokka commented from the campfire, a spoon being held in front of his mouth. Y/N immediately flipped him off in response, his eyes cast downwards in embarrassment.

“Come on Y/N…let’s just get in the tent and stretch your muscles,” Zuko suggested, gently guiding Y/N into the tent before he zipped up the entrance, “So just uh…take off your shirt and lay on your stomach I guess.”

Y/N’s face stayed the crimson color as his hands reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in a quick swipe. His hands shook as he tossed it to the side of the area before lowering himself onto one of the sleeping bags on the ground, shivering slightly as the cool material of the fabric.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, a pair of warm hands made contact with Y/N’s back.

“I’m gonna start now,” Zuko whispered as he slowly dug his fingers into the smaller males back. Y/N let out a soft gasp as he felt the man’s fingers press into the sore sports of his body.

“Tell me if it hurts okay?”

“Y-yeah, it feels nice so far.”

Zuko nodded in response though he realized a second later that Y/N could not see him and blushed in embarrassment. After working on his back for a few more minutes, he tapped on the boy’s side.

“Can you turn over, I’m gonna do your legs now.”

Y/N felt his face flush before he slowly nodded into the fabric of the sleeping bag rolling his body over to expose his bare chest to the older male. Zuko’s eyes immediately zeroed in on the pink nubs that stood erect on Y/N’s chest wanting nothing more than to reach out and grab them, play with them, and have them in his mouth, just to make the smaller boy squirm in pleasure.

He quickly shook the thought from his head as he let his gaze trail down towards the younger male’s legs, eyes pausing only momentarily to stare longingly at the bulge in Y/N’s pants.

“Can you uh…can you take your pants off too? So I can get to the skin! Not anything weird!”

Y/N let out a nervous giggle before sitting up slightly and tugging off his pants revealing his briefs.

“A-alright, thank you,” Zuko breathed, his eyes trailing along Y/N’s legs in awe of the color and how incredibly soft they looked. He gently placed his hand on one of the smaller boy’s legs, gently lifting it to get it into a position to stretch out the muscle. This particular stretch has Y/N’s leg up in the air with Zuko’s body directly pressed against it and situated between his legs. Zuko felt his heart start to hammer against his ribs as he began to push Y/N’s leg towards his torso causing a small whimper of pain to release from the smaller boy’s mouth.

“Was that too far?”

“N-no it felt good, keep going.”

Moving on, he continued to push Y/N’s leg all the way up to where the boy was almost doing the splits.

“Wow, I didn’t realize you were that…flexible,” Zuko gulped, his eyes staring directly into Y/N’s. Y/N blushed deeply as he raised his hands to hide his face from the other man.

“I was close friends with Ty Lee and her family growing up so…” the younger male stated, his body shaking in nervousness.

“You’re shaking,” Zuko observed, pulling back from the stretch but keeping the smaller boy’s leg propped over his shoulder, his finger’s slightly digging into the skin.

“A-am I? That-that’s strange, ahaha.” Y/N felt time stop as he watched the fire bender turn his head to look at the smaller boy’s leg before placing a gentle peck against the skin. Not to be cheesy, but the place where his lips touched felt like a flame had been placed and spread from there sending a heat to his stomach.

“Zuko?”

“Hm?” Zuko hummed in response, slowly leaving more burning kisses along the length of the smaller boy’s leg, “What is it, firefly?”

The was it, the straw that broke the camel’s back. Y/N was hard and obviously so especially since Zuko was still pressing his body against the non bender’s.

“Zuko…” Y/N breathed, an argument playing out within his head debating on whether or not to continue with the actions the two were about to partake in. There were so many possibilities that something could go wrong, but…he could be with Zuko finally. His head felt light as he weighed the options before he finally made up his mind.

Zuko watched slightly amused as Y/N dropped his hands from covering his crimson face and sat up so that their faces were centimeters apart.

“I want you.”

Zuko’s face flushed softly across his cheeks before he nodded slowly, using his free hand to cup the younger man’s face, bringing their lips together in a heated kiss. Y/N let his shaking hands slide into the silky hair of the Fire Lord. A grunt left Zuko’s throat as he adjusted his position, accidentally not so accidentally grinding his growing bulge into Y/N’s raging hard on.

Y/N’s lips parted in shock, a gasp escaping him before Zuko plunged his tongue into the younger man’s mouth. Their tongues seemed to wrestle for ages, but soon Zuko won out before he gently guided Y/n’s body back onto the sleeping bag.

They parted for a second to catch their breaths, Y/N’s entire being seemed disheveled, his hair was a mess, his clothes were missing, and his lips were glossy and swollen from their passionate kiss. All in all, Zuko was close to going feral over that sight alone.

Y/N’s hand reached out and gently stroked the scarred side of Zuko’s face before he pulled the older man back down to him to place a few soft kisses against the scar.

“You’re so handsome…” he whispered against Zuko’s skin causing the Fire Lord to shiver.

“I could say the same to you,” Zuko chuckled, his fingers gently tracing over the smaller mans face before he trailed his hand down towards Y/N’s exposed chest.

The non bender’s back arched into Zuko’s hand as soon as it made contact with the pink bud, a whimper leaving his lips, begging him to touch him properly. Zuko let a smirk cross his face as he took the bud between his fingers, gently tweaking it carefully and yet enough to make Y/N squirm, soft breathy moans escaping his lips.

“Zuko, take your clothes off too…” He whined, reaching up and tugging at the Fire Lord’s tunic. Zuko shook his head in amusement before he stopped his actions, letting Y/N’s leg fall beside him as he pulled his tunic over his head.

“You’re so cute, Firefly.”

Immediately, Zuko was back to attacking the smaller man’s nipples though this time he used his mouth, sucking and gently nipping at the hard buds. Small sounds of pleasure left Y/N’s mouth at the assault, his fingers gripping at Zuko’s hair. The taller man raised an eyebrow at the action, lifting his head slowly to gaze at his partner with a slight smirk.

“What is it now, hm Firefly?”

“I-I wanna touch you too…”

Zuko’s eyebrows raised higher in shock before his smirk grew exponentially.

“If you want to baby, I’m not gonna stop you,” he chuckled, sitting up slowly to allow the other man room to move if he so pleased. Y/N took the opportunity to sit up before switching up his position to be on his knees. He then crawled toward Zuko slowly before letting his hand rest just above the waistband of his pants.

Y/N looked up at the Fire Lord for any hesitation, seeing none, and then continuing to grab both the waistband of his pants and his boxers, slowly pulling them down to expose the older man’s length. The smaller boy felt his heart stop at the size. It wasn’t the longest he had seen but fuck, it was a girthy motherfucker. He swallowed harshly before taking it into his hands, slowly pumping the length of the shaft before leaning his head towards the tip.

His tongue slipped from between his lips, letting it kitten lick the very tip of Zuko’s cock before he slowly engulfed the head with his mouth. His head was spinning as he began to pump his head up and back down the shaft, though he couldn’t get very far seeing as his mouth was slightly small for the width of his cock. A few seconds into the endeavor, Y/N felt Zuko’s finger’s slide into his hair causing him to glance up at his partner.

Zuko’s eyes were glazed over in ecstasy as he stared down at the smaller man, his teeth harshly bit his lip as Y/N ran his tongue up the side of Zuko’s cock once more before traveling down to his balls. His mouth continued to roam the areas he knew were weak points, exploiting them and causing Zuko to groan a little too loudly.

Both males froze in sudden fear of their friends hearing them. They stayed frozen for a few seconds before Y/N looked up at Zuko with concern.

“Do you think they can hear us through the tent?

“Yes we can,” came Toph’s response causing both men’s faces to flush violently as they jumped away from each other.

“I-I’m so sorry!” Y/N squeaked out before sliding into his sleeping bag and hiding his face from Zuko. The taller male’s face was in no better shape than Y/N’s was but he let out a soft chuckle before crawling back over to Y/N.

“I didn’t get to finish,” he whispered in the smaller man’s ear causing him to tense, “What are you gonna do about it?”

~

The next morning, Zuko and Y/N woke to the bleary, dark circled eyes of their friends. 

“Good morning everyone,” Y/N chirped happily, his face seemed to be glowing after the previous night. The four people sat around the camp fire sent exasperated looked back at both him and Zuko who had just ducked out of the tent.

“Yeah, morning guys,” He stated before slinging his arm over Y/N’s shoulder nonchalantly.

“I hate you guys,” Sokka stated before turning back to his food.  

[b0ba-chan]

Brats that wear Thigh Highs

summary: Suna has a brat to take care of

pairing: Suna Rintarou x Fem!Reader

word count: 1110

warnings: degration, ruined orgasm, thigh fucking, brat taming, daddy kink

a/n: as I quote from my one boba!thots “ SUNA FUCK THIGHS SEXY LONG COCK SLIP BETWEEN THIGHS ANS USES U LIKE A TOY BC U BEEN A BRAT ALL DAY U DONT DESERVE HIS COCK”

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You couldn’t help but to be a bit bratty, it was in your nature. So why did Suna have to be so unfair to you.

“R-Rin please! I need more!” You let out pathetic sobs as he continues to slowly fuck your thighs, he says nothing and he squeezes your thighs tighter. His thrusts were slow and languid, his thumbs are teasing the seam of the thigh highs you wore. Sobbing you try to thrash around, annoyed that you weren’t receiving any pleasure. Why was he so mean?

Well today, you were to join Suna to visit the Inarizaki graduates to have dinner. You didn’t want to leave the house today, but Suna didn’t want to be stuck with the twins without you. When you agree reluctantly, you want to tease your boyfriend wearing his favorite thigh highs and your shortest tennis skirt. He sees your outfit and glares at you, knowing what you’re doing. “Oi, why are you wearing these,” he mutters as he stands behind you and reaches his hands down to toy with the hem of the socks, thumbing the soft fabric.

“What about them? They keep me warm, don’t be such a sore loser, Rin,” you let out a hmph and try to squirm away from his hold. He grips thighs and furrows his eyebrows,”Watch yourself brat. It’s as if you’re asking for punishment.” A shiver is sent down your spine, but you suppress your whine and pull away from his grip. “Let’s go already, we’ll be late,” you mutter and head to the door, but you’re stopped with Suna blocking your way.

“Rintarou, we’ll be late! You said you wanted to go,” you try to hide your excitement with a pout because you’re getting what you want. As you try to walk around him, he grabs a fist full of your hair to pull you closer to his face. “What do you think you’re going, brat. We’re not going anywhere with you dressed like a whore.”

You let out a pained whine as you hold his wrist, feeling yourself starting to get aroused. Trying to pull his wrist only tightens his grip causing you to moan as your knee buckles. Composing yourself, you glare up at him and spit in his face, “What are you going to do about it?”

He wipes the spit of his cheek, looking at his hand then bringing his attention back to you. Throwing you over his shoulder, he starts to walk the bedroom. Finally, you got what you wanted but you keep putting up the act, squirming around in his grip but you know you’ll never win. Suna throws you onto the bed and flips you on your stomach. Your face was stuffed in the pillows and you hear his pants being unzipped, shaking your ass to tempt him to take your skirt off. Ignoring your movements, he adjusts you so your ass is pointed up and flips up your skirt. Rin saw your bare ass being displayed and you were anticipating some degrading word, but there was no sound except him sliding his cock between your thighs.

“R-Rin?” You were beginning to panic because he only thigh fucks you for punishment and this is not what you want for punishment. Everytime he thigh fucks you, he never lets you cum on his cock, you have to rely on the tip of his dick occasionally brushing your clit. Crying you clench your thighs tight, hoping to get on his good side if you stay compliant.

He was going too slow and barely ever catches on your clit, driving you absolutely crazy. You keep sobbing and begging for more, thrashing every once in a while. Dry heaving into the pillows, your hips try to move in anyway to get any friction you can get. Rintarou slaps your ass causing you to yelp and still,”Stay still, slut. You wanted to stay home and be a tease, take what I give you.”

You whine and peak down to look at your thighs. Your mouth drools at the sight of his tip peaking out at every thrust from in between your thighs. There was only one way to get him to finally do what you want, even if it’s a little embarrassing to say. “Daddy!” you sob and grip the sheets from embarrassment,”I need more! ‘M so sorry won’t be a bad girl! Only good!”

The air was taken from your lungs when he flips you onto your back, face red and slightly sweaty. “Is that what you wanted, you wanted daddy to take care of you?” Suna coos mockingly and squishes your cheeks to make you pucker your lips. Tears threaten to rain out of your eyes as you nod. He was still being so mean, but you endure it just wanting his cock in you already.

“Look at you cry, your face is just as wet as your slutty pussy,” Rintarou spat at you and placed your legs on his shoulders,”you planned on not wearing panties out to go see the team? Who did you want to see? Maybe Kita?” Sobbing, you shake your head to deny his accusations, gasping at the feeling of him slapping his dick on your sensitive clit.”N-no, only for you to touch, daddy.”

“Is that right?” he chuckles,”I guess you deserve a reward.” As he finishes his sentence, he pushes his tip in and pauses. The feeling of the head inside you already throws you off into a moaning spree, gripping the sheets for support. In one smooth stroke, he pushes in balls deep earning him a scream. “That’s it take it, brat. Just what you wanted.”

Silent screams emit from your mouth, moving up and down on the bed due to the constant thrusts to dig deeper into. He was already close because of the thigh job from earlier, but he treks on. When he paints your insides white, he keeps thrusting to coax your orgasm out. Your hands come to grip his hair, gasping as the orgasm comes crashing down on you. But something was wrong - right when you came, he pulled out all the way causing you to cry in agony. 

“D-daddy, ‘m s-so sorry, b-but so meeeaan,” you whine, sobs wracking your whole body and he coos at your fucked out state. Your ruined orgasm hurts so much and you feel him scoop you into his arms. 

“Don’t be like that, princess. Lets go shower and if you calm down, I’ll let you use my fingers, okay?” Rintarou kisses the crown of your head, calming your heaving as you nod all while clinging onto his shoulders.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

a/n: sorry the ending was rushed

[gamergirl929]

The Clumsy Ball Girl (Christen Press x Reader)

Anonymous Request:  idk if ur requests are open but if they are can u do a christen press imagine where she like spots a cute girl who’s a fan who wants her jersey signed and like writes her number on the jersey and they start dating or whatever

I tweaked this request a LITTLE bit, but I hope the requester enjoys it none the less. 

If you were being honest, easy distracted, clumsy gay, was your undocumented middle name.

How could you not be distracted with Christen Press standing a yard away from you?

You watch intently as the woman, whose jersey is currently hanging from your shoulders, prepares to take a corner kick.

You can’t help but drink her in, your eyes raking down her messy brown hair to her shapely legs.

You’re so distracted you don’t realize the ball you were hugging to your chest as left your arms and is now rolling towards Christen.

Christen’s green orbs widen when she feels a tap on the back of her cleat, the woman glancing down.  

Your eyes widen in horror when you realize the ball at her feet was the one that had been in your arms moments before.

You jump to your feet, cheeks blood red as you rush to scoop the ball up, tripping over your feet as you do so.

Gentle hands settle on your shoulders, stopping you from falling face first into the turf.

You pick your head up wide Y/E/C orbs locking with Christen’s dazzling greens, the woman’s eyes as bright as her smile.

Christen scoops the ball up in her arms and passes it to you.

“Be careful on your way back, wouldn’t want you to fall.” She teases.  

Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you simply nod.

“Y-Yeah… You too.”  

The forward giggles when you abruptly turn on your heels and head back to where you’d been, unsurprisingly tripping over your feet as you go.

“You too? Seriously?” You mumble under your breath before flopping back onto the ground.

Christen shakes her head, unable to wipe the grin off her face for the remainder of the game, all because of a certain clumsy ball girl.

                                                          ***  

The final whistle blows and you sigh in relief, relief that the USWNT had won, and relief that the game ending would mean you wouldn’t embarrass yourself further.

After, what you dubbed, The Christen Press Catastrophe, you only continued to stumble over your feet more and more, even more so when you caught her green orbs on you every so often.

You cover your face with your hands.

“Someone kill me.” You murmur, your face burning, heat spreading to your ears.

You’d planned on asking for the forward’s autograph, but now, you weren’t going near her, let alone talk to her.  

You sigh, your head lolling backwards, so much in fact that you smack the barricade behind you.  

You growl, rubbing the back of your head with the palm of your hand.  

“That looked like it hurt.”  

Your eyes flash open, immediately zeroing in on the pair of bright cleats in front of you, your eyes dragging up the woman’s muscular legs to her grass stain covered jersey before your eyes eventually find her bright green orbs.  

“Uh... N-No, I’m fine.” You jump to your feet, nervously rubbing the back of your neck.

Christen nods to your jersey.  

“I figured; I at least owed you an autograph for saving me from that wayward ball.” She beams and you clear your throat.  

“Actually...” You chuckle nervously, looking down at your feet.  

“Actually... Ummm...” You swallow hard, Christen smiling as you fidget nervously. 

“Uhh, it was my fault anyway...” You murmur, Christen straining her ears to hear you.  

“Oh?” She asks, cocking her head to the side and you nod.  

“I was... Di-Distracted.” You mumble, the woman’s brows arching.  

“May I ask by what?” She smiles and you swallow hard.  

“Y-Y-You were t-taking your corner kick...” You whisper, Christen’s smile splitting into a grin.  

“Oh, so I distracted you?” She grins cockily and you swallow hard.  

“I mean, you ARE Christen Press...” You chuckle, the woman’s cheeks flushing.  

“And you are...?” She asks, and you smile softly.  

“I’m Y/N.”  

Christen glances around, seconds later a pen flies in her direction, courtesy of her best friend Tobin Heath, Tobin whose eyes are narrowed as she grins her way, earning a glare from her best friend.  

Casually, Christen steps closer, the woman uncapping her marker.  

“Well, at least now I have a name to go with a face.”  

Your eyes double in size, cheeks flushing blood red as the woman leans in closer.  

Confidently, she leans in her hand resting on your shoulder as she presses the tip of the pen into your chest, just above your heart.  

She leans in rather close, the smell of sweat and body wash clouding your senses.

You take a shuddering breath, your eyes fluttering shut as the woman’s hot breath dances across your cheek.  

Christen smirks at the look on your face.  

“Sorry, am I took close?” She asks, her tongue trapped between her teeth as she stares intently at your shirt.  

“N-N-No I-I'm fine...” You stammer, cheeks blood red.  

Christen smirks, the woman’s green orbs darting from your shirt, to your face and back.

“You sure? You seem a little tense...” She asks innocently and you swallow hard. 

“I-I’m sure.” You murmur and Christen hums, pulling away from you.  

“Well, I hope you like it.” She nods to the signature, the woman leaning in close, her lips near your ear.  

“And don’t share this with anyone...” She whispers,

Yours brows furrow as she grabs your clammy hand, the woman opening your palm with a grin.  

Your eyes double in size as you watch the woman write what you guess is her number across the palm of your hand.  

Christen’s fingers drag slowly across the freshly written numbers, the woman’s fingers curling around yours as she closes your palm.  

She gives you hand a squeeze.  

“I hope I hear from you soon.” She smiles, a hopeful glint in her green orbs.  

You swallow hard, your cheeks flushing as you place your hand on top of hers.  

“Oh, you will.”  

                                                          ***

The grin that stretches across your face is massive when you see her, Christen Press making her way towards you.  

The crowd claps and cheers, celebrating another USWNT win, meanwhile, Christen is wrapping her arms around you, the woman ducking down to kiss your forehead.  

“You didn’t even hit me with a ball during my corner kick.” She teases and you roll your eyes.  

“That was so last year.” You stick your tongue out at her and she grins, the woman leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips.  

“Besides, if it wasn’t for that, we never would’ve met.” You shrug and Christen grins.  

“To be honest, it was hard to miss the cute ball girl who kept tripping every time I saw her, at least she’s mine now.” She shrugs and you groan.  

“Shut uppppp.” You whine, the woman giggling as she leans in, stealing another kiss.  

“It was cuteeeeee...”  

You whine.

“Stoppppppppp.”  

Christen grins, leaning in to steal a third kiss.  

You shrug.  

“At least I’m yours.” You whisper, the woman kissing the tip of your nose.  

“And you always will be.”  

[luvspence]

contact names

spencer reid x reader

synopsis: a love story told through contact names

word count: 1.5k 

———

“hi dr. reid, or u-um spencer? is that all right? can i call you by your first name? i was wondering if i could get your number, so we could have a line of communication and all”

you stood in front of him, smiling brightly. this was your first jet ride of your first case. you believed first impressions were important, and a little more important when that first impression was with him

you’d gone to the same college as him, given you went around 12 years after he did, and his name was always brought up. when you were a criminal justice major and cal tech, spencer reid was a name that was hard to not know. you studied his analysis, you read his doctoral papers, and you admired him from a far. just an alumni, smart one, cute one at that, but just an alumni, someone to learn from

okay so maybe you had a crush on him, but of course you didn’t that was ridiculously, you’d never even met the man

but there you were, somehow you fought your way through school, the academy, and the baus hiring process, and you went from admiring learner, to colleague

he was beautifully perched on the edge of the jet seat, staring down at the chess set, playing against himself

“oh hello, and spencer is quite fine. just appreciative to be called anything other than morgan’s chosen nick name of ‘pretty boy’. i mean i guess it is a compliment? well it feels degrading in a sense, i digress,,”

he chuckled awkwardly

when he was nervous, he rambled, and you made him nervous

he and garcia had thoroughly researched you before you had joined

you were top of your class at cal-tech, top of your class at the academy, your published work was astonishing for someone your age, you had numerous letters of recommendation from highly regarded professors

you were nothing short of excellent, and nothing short of beautiful

long hair with bangs that perfectly framed your face, dimples on both of your cheeks, a smile that could light up any room you walked into

so needless to say, spencer already had a crush on you before you walked through the bau doors

“ and oh i’m regarding that phone number, let me...”

he shuffled through his satchel, files, books, tea bags and granola bar wrapper being pushed a side in search of his business card

“shoot, i can’t find it, here”

he pulled his phone out

“why don’t your enter your number, and i’ll text you so that you can save the contact as well?”

“oh perfect!”

you grabbed his phone typing in your number, and handing it back

“t-thank you!”

you turned to walk away

“oh wait! could you spell your last name for me? i wouldn’t want to get it wrong”

you spelled it out, he typed in the letters into his phone

now you were officially in his phone as plainly

“y/n l/n”

—

you guys quickly went from colleagues to friends

ever since that first text that spencer sent to share his number, you two were inseparable

carpooled to work and back

sat next to each other on the jet

office spaces next to each other

coffee “dates”

hotel slumber parties during cases

friday night game night traditions

endless conversations

book recommendations

and of course

a blinding amount of romantic tension

a couple months into you working at the bau you were sitting on spencer’s desk, him reclined in his chair

“i’m telling you! i’m amazing at gin rummy”

“mhm okay”

you hit him playfully with a file

“mhm? what is that supposed to mean? do you doubt my skills?”

“no not at all, i just know i’d crush you”

you raised an eyebrow

“okay dr reid? you wanna go?”

he pulled a deck of cards out of his drawer

“i’ll deal”

he said, shuffling the cards

7 rounds later, you had beat him by 27 points

“HA!”

he looked down in defeat

“HA HA HA!!!!”

“i let you win”

“UNTRUE UNTRUE! you knocked and were so confident that you had won, but guess what? I HAD GIN” you laughed un controllably while spenxer rolled his eyes

“they don’t call me y/n “gin rummy god” l/n for nothing!”

he perched his face in his hands, staring up at your giggly face that still remained seated on his desk

“who calls you that”

“everyone! and now you have to!”

he laughed, pulled out his phone went to his contacts

he typed in

“y/n “pretty okay at gin rummy” l/n”

he showed you the screen

“happy?”

you squinted in to read it

“very”

———-

it didn’t take very much longer until you and spencer were dating

it happened one day on the jet, you were flying home and while sitting next to spencer instinctually laid your head on his shoulder

that wasn’t too abnormal, but spencer bent his neck down to kiss you softly on the forehead

you looked at him

he looked at you

finally an action that couldn’t be written off as platonic

with scared eyes he looked at you, looking like he had just committed a grave crime

as he had forgotten that you two were not dating, you had forgotten that the entire team was also on that jet

so you grabbed his face and kissed him, kissed him long, gently wrapping your arms around his neck, until you heard an “ahem” from derek

“finally”

he laughed, you and spencer just stared at each other an also burst into laughter, and from then on, you were his girl, his love, his object of adoration, his lady

—-

3 months into your relationship, spencer had gotten a concussion

he was okay, just unable to fly

you were about to board the jet, face buried in spencers shoulder

“i don’t have to go spencer”

“yes, yes you do”

“i don’t want to leave you”

“y/n i will survive, and it’s not like i’m gonna be alone in the office, i’ll be consulting virtually through garcia”

you pressed a kiss to his lips

“okay, i’ll miss you”

“miss you too”

you let go of his hand and jogged up to emily who was boarding the plane

“you two are vile” she said laughing

“not funny!”

-

the case was tough, even tougher with spencer not around

though he and garcia made quite the duo

“hey spencer could you call y/n for me? i’m on this line with derek”

“yeah of course”

he pressed your contact on his favorite list

your name saved as “m’lady”

garcia noticed immediately

“m’lady?! M’LADY??? if you two aren’t the cutest pair of 18th century literature nerds i don’t know what is”

he giggled, you picked up the phone

“spence?”

garcia started shouting

“Y/N YOU SUcK! YOU AND YOUR PERFECT ADORABLE RELATIONSHIP WITH CUTE LITTLE CONTACT NAMES! HAVE SOME MERCY FOR THE SINGLE PEOPLE HUH?”

you started to laugh

“garcia do you have that list of names i asked for?”

——-

4 years, 1 built in library, and 3 cats later

spencer knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you

it was a warm saturday, and you and spencer went to the museum of natural sciences

you were standing in front of the aquatic birds exhibit

you were reading the swan description

“swan, largest waterfowl species of the subfamily anserinae, family anatidae. most swans are classified in the genus cygnus. swans are gracefully long-necked, heavy-bodied, big-footed birds that glide majestically when swimming and fly with slow wingbeats and with necks outstretched. swans mate for life, and can actually die from heart break if their partner dies, interesting”

“yeah, swans are usually a symbol of love and marriage”

“how sweet, such romantic birds”

spencer took your hand

“i’m gonna love you forever, just like these swans”

he kissed your forehead

“forever and ever spence?”

he got down on one knee

“forever and ever”

-

you wanted to wait until the perfect moment to tell the team, refraining from wearing your ring until you two could figure it out, but by an unfortunate accident, they secret was out

“hey y/n, i didn’t get a chance to save your number earlier, would you mind?”

an officer at the local precinct was asking you, as to have a more direct way of contact

the entire team was sitting around a table as you typed your number into the officers phone

“oh and y/n i’m sorry how do you spell your last name”

“r-e-i-d, reid”

you froze

in most of your circles you already started going by spencer’s last name, this detail slipped your mind

derek was the first to say something

“WHAT”

then emily

“YOU TWO?”

you and spencer looked at each other

“okay, we’re in engaged”

the entire team started hugging and cheering, the rest of the precinct joining in

“so when were you planning to tell us?” hotch asked with a raised eyebrow

you laughed

“would you believe me if i said that contact name incident was planned?”