#anyway yeah lemme try and sleep

[coridallasmultipass]

.

[greennoobartist]

Im making these again lol

Anyways, Tumblr nation, today i offer you Vio Vio Vio Vio Vio Vio Vio Vio Vio Vio Vio Vio Vio Vio Vio Vio Vio Vio Vio Vio and Vio in a messy violet frame. Tomorrow? Who knows

[indecisive-dizzy]

today I learned that my nightmares can be cool inspiration for at least one horror game

Here's this morning's concept: an Escape Room Tower, where every floor is a new puzzle. It's gimmicky with haunted house vibes. But wait that's not all!

Your friends are mysteriously disappearing and coming back as horrifically disfigured monsters! now you have to finish the puzzles and survive in order to reach the top to get to the exit! oh and the gimmicky horror vibes become,, not gimmicky. that is real gore now.

[thundersoothers]

john price, his wife, and... the dog (derogatory)

who: John Price x wife!reader

what: inspired by this thought about john price being an absolutely softie for his wife. continued here!

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of cheating but it’s NOT TRUE! you’ll see… just fluff that reallyyyyy makes me want to marry this man. inclusivity warning: reader gets picked up by Price and carried over his shoulder

It’s 2AM on a Saturday in the summer when John Price thinks he hears his wife cheating on him. 

“Shhh!!  You have to be quiet, you’ll wake up my husband.” 

He opens his heavy eyes to see the TV paused at the end credits of some movie he can’t even remember the name of.  The screen reflects in the crystal of the empty rocks glass on the coffee table next to his feet, holding only a warm whiskey stone.  

He groans and stretches, his old t-shirt riding up to show a dark happy trail disappearing into low-waisted flannel pajama pants.  He has one sock on with a hole in the toe.  You told him to get rid of them and got him a pack of 20 of the same sock (he’s very particular about his socks), but he still wears these ones, anyway. 

“Stop moving, I’m trying to concentrate here.  Damn lock… can never— oh, shit.  Heh. Wrong key.” 

He can hear you muttering and giggling and the scratch of the key against the lock as you struggle to get it in. 

It’s your girls’ night and he likes to wait up for you to make sure you get in safely.  He saw you off around 8PM, pouring himself a glass of whiskey as you took a shot of tequila.  You planted a big kiss on his cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark that he didn’t bother to fully wipe off. 

“Sorry, I know you’re eager to get inside.  I bet you’re so cold, all naked.  Here, you can go in my dress, is that better?  Fu—ow!  Don’t bite my tit, Jesus!  Sharp teeth…” 

Price suddenly feels much more awake.  He pushes himself up from the couch and starts to walk to the foyer. 

“This damn door… ah!  There we go.” 

The door creaks open and he hears you tiptoe inside in your heels (wearing heels and tiptoeing—are two actions that are mutually exclusive, especially when you’re plastered). 

“Remember, we have to be quiet.  My husband waits for me to get home, we don’t want to wake him up.  He’s very nice, you see, but he can’t know you’re here.” 

Apparently, you have gotten home safely—with an extra guest who just bit at your tit.  And you’re being louder than your guest, who you keep telling to be quiet. 

“My husband is gonna be soooo mad.  He’s gonna be so mad at me, but once he sees how cute you are, I think he’ll forgive me.  He’ll understand.  I had to.  I just had to!” 

He hears rustling as he gets closer to the foyer, you fumbling around in the dark. 

“Stay there, don’t move, okay?  Stay, yeah?  You know that, don’t you?  Mummy will teach you if not.  Just stay right there.  Lemme get these damn heels off…” 

There’s an odd sound of something quickly clicking on hardwood floor that makes his eyebrows furrow, and then you gasp��

“Wait, don’t run—“ 

Bang! 

You groan loudly. 

Price flicks on the lights.

You’re lying face down on the rug.  You have one heel on.  The second heel is twisted around your other foot—what you fell over.  Your little dress is flipped up over your ass and your arms are outstretched. 

“You okay there, love?” John asks, torn between amusement and concern. You just groan.  “Sounded like you fell pretty hard.” 

“I tripped,” you say into the rug, sounding very sad. 

“You hurt?” he asks.  “Anything broken?”

You shake your head and curl up a little.  “I’ll just sleep here.” 

He laughs softly.  “Come on, none of that.” 

“It’s so comfortable.  I’ll just—“ 

There’s that clicking sound again and he’s almost startled by the abruptness of your movement.  You push yourself up with one arm, stretch the other out and fucking snatch the quick-moving little brown blob that’s moving toward you.  You pull it to your chest and cradle it, shielding it from John’s view. 

He blinks. “What you got there, love?” he asks after a second. 

“Nothing,” you say innocently. 

“Right.”  He crosses his arms, looking you over.  “Who were you talking to just now?” 

“No one,” you say quickly.  “Myself.” 

“Right,” John says again slowly. “Show me what you have.” 

You look over your shoulder up at him through your lashes, vision blurry.  “No.  You’re gonna be mad.” 

“Just show me.” 

“Promise you won’t be mad.” 

He sighs.  “I won’t be mad.”  You give him a look.  He sighs again.  You’re wasted—he can tell by your eyes. They’re unfocused and heavy.  “Promise.  Now show me.” 

You look down at whatever you’re holding to your chest.  “Okay,” you whisper (to your tits?), “you need to be very well-behaved, okay?  No biting, please.  Be very nice for Daddy so he will like you, okay?  Can you do that?  Yes?  Okay.” 

You glance up at John again over your shoulder and then turn yourself around in a very clumsy movement.  Then, as if presenting whatever it is like you’re Mufasa from the Lion King, you lift it up in the air toward your husband. 

It’s a puppy. 

It’s quiet. 

The little dog wriggles in your hands, wagging his tail so hard his whole body shakes.  He barks up at John, high pitched.  A small pink tongue lolls out of his mouth. 

It’s still quiet. 

You lower the dog a little so you can look up at John.  “You said you wouldn’t be mad!” 

“I’m not mad,” John says, sounding mad. 

“You look mad.” 

“I’m not mad,” he says again.  “It’s just… dirty.” 

You gasp.  “He’s not dirty!” you exclaim, sounding offended on behalf of the dog.  You pull him to your chest.  “He’s just a little mangey, you see.  But that’s okay.  It can be fixed.  You know—they have medicine for that.  Or lotion, or whatever it is.  He’s very nice, John, I swear.  I know he’s a little… skrunkly but he’s very cute and—ow!  That’s my hair, no biting Mummy, please.” 

“You’re already calling yourself his Mummy?” he asks, bemused, eyebrow raised at you.  Yep.  You’re fucking wasted. 

“Yes, and you’re his Daddy.”  You hold the dog up again, this time facing him toward you.  “I think you’re very cute, puppy. You’ll grow on Daddy.  Just be very good for him, you can do that, can’t you?  Yes, you can.”  You whisper, as if John isn’t standing right there, “We’ll wear him down. Don’t worry.”

“I thought it was something else,” Price says. 

“What did you think it was?” you ask, not looking away from the dog.

“Where did you find it?” he asks instead of answering. 

This is much better than what his traitorous mind momentarily supplied.  You, cheating? As if.

How silly of him to even think that. For a moment, his stomach twists with the guilt of doubting you. He should have known better. 

Of course it’s this.  What else could it have been?

A puppy. 

A puppy! 

“Oh, hello, there.” 

You crouch down in your dress and heels and hold out your hand to the little puppy emerging from the bushes by the side of the road. 

“What are you doing here, all alone?  Come here, love, I won’t hurt you.  Come on, puppy, come to me.  Yeahhh, there we go.  Oh, look at you.  You’re so cute.  You’re all mangey, though.  Oh,” you say pitifully, “you little baby.” 

You’re drunk as fuck at 2AM on a Saturday in the summer, halfway through your walk home from the bar, squatting in the middle of a back road in England, about to cry while petting this puppy clumsily—but he doesn’t seem to mind.  He wags his tail and nips at your fingers. 

“Where’s your mummy?  You shouldn’t be out here all alone.  No collar… oh, goodness, what should I do with you?  I don’t want to leave you.  I’m not sure what to do.” 

He barks at you, high pitched. 

You nod at him seriously.  “Oh, yes, good point.”  He barks again.  “Mhm.  Yes, yes.  I thought so, too.  Exactly right.” 

He runs in a circle around you. 

“What are you, a month?  You should be with your Mum, you shouldn’t be all alone.  Oh, you little baby, you must be so scared.”  (He’s wagging his tail.) 

“It’s so cold.”  (It’s summer.) 

“Maybe you can come home with me?”  (Your husband would be so mad.) 

“Yes,” you decide.  “You’ll come home with me.”  (Your husband is going to be so mad.) 

That’s how you end up stumbling home with a puppy in your arms, rambling to him about yourself and your life. 

“Well, puppy, my name is Mrs. Price.  I’m from around here.  I live in a nice three bedroom house with my husband, I think you’ll like it very much.  It’s very cute, but that's mostly because I decorated it. He doesn’t understand feng shui, you see. You should see his office, puppy, it’s so bland. No taste for interior design.”

“Our house is only 10 more minutes away.  See that big tree there?  That means we only have 10 minutes left until we’re home.  I’m not great with street names, so I go by landmarks.”  He barks.  “Yes, yes, you get it.” 

“Anyway.  So, I’m—stop wiggling please, Mummy’s going to drop you—I’m married to a very nice man named John.  I love him very much.  You’ll like him, too,” you tell the dog seriously. "He’s very likable.  I like lots of things about him, puppy.  Actually," you say, "I like everything about him.” 

“He says I can’t have a dog, though.  He says it’s for my own good—booooo. Boo! But maybe we can sneak you in.  What do you think, puppy?  Should we do that?  I think we should do that.  We’ll have to be very quiet, though.  Very quiet.” 

“John waits for me to get home safely—he’s so nice, he’s so kind to me, I love him sooooo much—but we have to make sure not to wake him up. This is one of them—uh, covert operations. He’s very well-versed in those. My husband is very talented, puppy, he’s a military Captain. So we’ll have to be extra careful.”

And that’s how you end up trying to sneak into your own house and then trip over your shoe and fucking slam! your face on the rug. 

“Where did you find it?” John asks you as you sit on the floor after you presented the dog to him.

“On the way home from the bar, kind of my that big tree.” 

“By Notting Street?” 

You furrow your eyebrows.  “Notting Str—I dunno.  Maybe?  I just know the big tree.  The one with all the branches.” 

“‘The one with all the branches,’” he repeats, nodding slowly.  “Right.” 

“But he was there all alone so I took him home.  I couldn’t leave him, John, he’s so little.  And he’s very cute, look at his little ears?  And his little feet?  His toes are soooo small.  His little teeth are sharp, though—like a shark.  Fuckin’ hurt, he almost bit my tit off.” 

“Yeah, I heard.” 

“You heard?  Oh.  I was trying to be quiet.  I didn’t want to wake you up.” 

He smiles at you.  “I know.” 

You smile back. 

“Give me the dog.” 

You frown.  “No.” 

“The dog, please.” 

“No.”  You hold him tighter.  “You’ll take him from me.” 

“Well,” he says, “yes.” 

You sigh heavily.  “Be gentle.”  You hand him to John and he takes him in one hand and holds him out, frowning, as if it’s offended him. 

A puppy. 

“Can we keep him?” you ask hopefully. 

He glances at you and then back to the puppy and then back to you and then back to the puppy.  “No.” 

“Please?” 

“No.” 

“But…”  You trail off and he looks back down at you.  You’re starting to tear up. 

“Oh—love, don’t cry.” 

“He’s so little and soft and nice and he’s all mangey and he’s all alone and he’s just a little baby and…” 

“Okay, okay, darling, we can keep him.” 

(By that, he means you’ll talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober, and by ‘talk about it’, he means, ‘no.’) 

“Really?!” you gasp.  

The way your face fucking lights up makes John pause.  For a second, he almost feels like he lost his balance.

“Oh, John, really?  Oh, thank you so much!  Puppy, did you hear that?  Daddy said yes!  See, he’s very nice, just like I told you, remember?  He’s very nice and kind and he’s very handsome and I love him very much, and I—“ 

“The dog can’t understand you.” 

“You don’t know that,” you say defensively.

He looks down at you. “Right.”

You stare up at him, standing over you as you sit on the floor.  “How are you handsome even from this angle?”  You frown deeper.  “Stupid face,” you mutter. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Let’s get you up.” 

“I’m so comfortable.” 

“Hand.”  He tucks the dog under his arm and extends his other hand toward you.  He crooks his long, thick fingers at you.  “Now.” 

You look between his hand and his face, and then slip your hand into his. 

“Good girl.”

He fucking yanks you up and, in one movement that’s somehow graceful, bends down and throws you over his shoulder. 

He, naturally, slaps your ass and you squeal.  “Hey!!” 

You kick your feet (still with only one heel on) and he laughs, resting his hand on your hip, heavy fingers digging into the plush of your butt, as he makes his way up the stairs with you on his shoulder and the dog in his hand. 

Gently, he drops you onto the bed and you fall back with an oof! and stare up at him. 

“Well,” Price drawls, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

You grin.  “I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too.”  He takes off your shoe (singular), your dress, and your makeup as you hold the dog, curled up, on your chest. 

“You’re so good to me, John,” you say, your eyes closed.  “I’m so lucky.  I don’t know how I got so lucky.  And, you, puppy,” you mumble, petting him slowly, “you’re so lucky, too.  You’re about to have the best Daddy in the world.  He’s so good to us.” 

“‘Puppy’ is asleep,” John says.  “And,” he adds, scooping him up in one hand, “puppy is not sleeping in the bed.” 

You just groan, too tired and drunk to argue. 

He holds the dog out in the air again, turning him around and upside down to examine him.  He yips and wriggles in his hands, but John shushes him.  “Hush now.  Your Mummy is asleep.”  He shakes his head and sighs.  “What am I going to do with you?” 

He takes the dog to the bathroom and puts him down on the floor. His paws slip a little on the cold tile. John puts his hands on his hips, staring down at the dog.  “I can’t believe this.”

He reaches over to turn on the heated floor (which he got installed for you), throws a fluffy towel onto the ground (also for you), and says to the dog, “You are so, so damn lucky I love your Mummy.” 

In the morning, despite John Price’s best efforts to say no to you, you end up convincing him to keep the dog. He’s a military Captain but the pleading of his wife is enough to make him crumble.

The happiness on your face when he finally says yes, makes him wonder why he ever said no in the first place.

note: thank you for reading! this is my first time posting in years–and in a totally new fandom. thank you for your patience and your support. let me know your thoughts! merry christmas!

posted 12.26.2024. revised 02.17.2025.

do not repost or modify any of my original words on any other platform.

to masterlist.

[jaeminvore]

room(hate) | L.JN (M) — part II

SYNOPSIS: all you wanted was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital. All you needed was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital, but even that was considered a luxury in these trying times. A luxury blatantly stolen by your roommate, Jeno Lee, who seemed to have an endless line of bodies to fuck preventing you from getting at least an hour of shut eye. It was annoying. It was disrupting and you seriously hoped that Jeno's dick falls off one day.

PART II SUMMARY: so, you’ve slept with your roommate in spite of everything. What happens now?

PART I | PART II (you are here)

[AO3 link]

GENRE: roommate au, non-idol au, slice of life-ish, unrequited hate, roommates with benefits, domesticity, porn with plot, fluff, comedy, crack treated seriously.

WORD COUNT: 31.1K out of 50K

NOTE: ever love someone so much that you pumped out a 50K long two-parter fic? yeah me neither LMAO anyways… this has been a loooong long time coming and I’m just really glad I’ve seen through the end of this fic that has been in the works for more than a year now? My sincerest thanks goes to those who have been patiently waiting bc I wasn’t patient and wanted to finish this so bad but life had suddenly gotten in the way that it took so much of my time 😭 anywho, you might want to grab a snack and/or drink bc this one is loooong long! Lemme know what you think <3 likes and reblogs are much appreciated !

If you're tuning in from part I of room(hate), the long awaited continuation is here! And if you're new and seeing this, I highly suggest jumping to part I to have more context! It's a great read, entertaining even, I promise 🤞🏼

CONTENT WARNINGS: egregious use of the em dash and the comma, pregnancy mentioned (but no one is pregnant lol), feelings realization. sooo so much feelings it’s kinda dramatic really. Miscommunication (haha-funny kind). Jeno being the sweetest guy it’ll give you cavities I think. Idiot being idiots but they’re in love, so. [smut warnings underneath the cut. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

SMUT WARNINGS: (some of the sex scenes aren't as graphic btw) car sex, mild exhibitionism, Jeno has a thing for glasses, face-fucking, couch sex, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex (PLEASE practice safe-sex unlike these two), MC cries during sex at some point (overwhelmed).

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken." — The Four Loves, C.S. Lewis

"There are times when my longing for you overwhelms me, so often I can think of you only with teeth clenched." — Franz Kafka

"I look out the window longingly. I was never this type. All along, I had it together" ... "It's annoying. Barely had any sleep but. Just pretending to be strong" — Crazy by Jinnie.

IV.

“Call it what you want it, darling.”

You were operating under a time crunch, but God forbid you’d pass this up.

“What happened to sex being a one-time thing?”

“Really? You say this now after the many times we’ve fucked so far?”

Jeno wrinkled his nose. “Could you be less crass?”

You rolled your eyes, held his face and kissed him, barely giving him any time to adjust the driver’s seat.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but when you were cursed with the knowledge of having what was essentially the human form of sexual relief residing just across your room—yeah, one could already tell where this was going.

Likewise, Jeno was just as willing as you were in seeking out for any form of release which really didn’t help your case at all. There were a handful of alternatives out there, let’s say, Pilates, when taking into consideration the numerous benefits your roommate had achieved from the consistent gym visits to dead-lift double (maybe even triple?) his body weight. But was it really worth the couple bucks you’d be spending—much less the extra energy and travel time—if you signed up for classes when you could get the same results from getting railed until you forgot what set you off at work?

Probably not.

Definitely not.

Fool you once, shame on him. Fool you twice, shame on you. Fool you thrice… well, you weren't a stranger to being shamed for the bad decisions you’ve made thus far. Fucking around with the same guy your complaints revolved around was a different ballpark, however, and the thought should have humbled you. Stopped you, even.

Really, it should have.

Though it became crystal clear that your intentions made a gradual shift when ‘this is the last time I’m letting you fuck me’ had gotten demoted to merely a thing you’d say to cancel out your conscious choice of falling into Jeno’s arms again. Defending yourself was as useless as a broken umbrella doing fuck all but shield you from the pelts of rain, and it was especially useless when getting pelted by Jeno’s thick load was just another Tuesday for you.

There was no point in it now when you’re about to ride the guy in his own car parked in the most secluded part of the hospital’s parking lot.

“Fuck,” you hissed, lowering yourself onto his cock. “You’re too fucking big, I swear. Dick so big and for what?” you said like it was the biggest inconvenience you’ve ever encountered in your life.

“You say this every time,” Jeno laughed, breathless, and pleased by the looks of it before his face scrunched up the moment the meat of your ass pressed down onto his thighs, moaning quietly at the tight squeeze of your pussy. “Shouldn’t—shouldn’t you be used to it by now?”

With his obscenely large size? It’s a miracle you hadn’t split into two through a fucked mitosis process, actually. “Do you really want an anatomy lesson until you go soft?” you ground out. “Or would you rather get fucked before I clock into work?”

“Mm, I think you know what I want.”

He was looking up at you with a deceptively sweet smile. Leering, if anything, with pupils blown out so wide that they were as dark as the cup of coffee that waited for you every morning without fail.

Jeno’s eyes were one thing. Usually soft and contrasting the hard angles that make up the handsome face haunting both your dreams and more so your reality. There were no traces of the gentleness you were acquainted with as his heavy gaze raked over you, trying to peel away the soft cotton covering your skin with it alone. The mean grip he had on your hips was enough to tell you how badly he wanted this.

And you knew it was bad when you were actually looking forward to whatever Jeno’s cooking up in the more depraved parts of his brain.

A creature of habit is what you were. Staying true to a routine you’ve aged with was what you preferred, and sticking close to what you knew had less consequences to deal with in the long run. Change to you had always been a daunting idea right from when you moved to this city for your father’s job at the tender age of six and up until you shared a living space with anyone that wasn’t Mark Lee. So it really came as a shock that adapting to this arrangement with Jeno had been quick and painless.

Then again, you supposed the benefits greatly outweighed the very grievance of it being with Jeno helped. Shutting him up has been the easiest it’s ever been, for example, especially when you took the reins. Sometimes.

“That was our best one yet, don’t you think?” Jeno said once both of you recovered enough brain cells to hold an actual conversation. Unsurprisingly, he fared better than you did, insane stamina and all, though the second you picked up the barest smugness leaking from what Jeno probably thought was an unassuming sentence, you sobered up in record speed and almost smashed your skulls together when sitting up straight to scowl.

“Is it because we’re in your car? ‘That enough to stroke your ego?”

Jeno raised a manicured eyebrow. “Weren’t you the one who jumped me?”

Well, yes, but being reminded of your oversight was so unnecessary.

“Get out of me,” you took a deep breath and let it out, “right now.”

Although he pulled out without any follow up witticism, you did clock the satisfied stretch of his lips, Jeno chuckling when you gave his arm a light swat. You tried not to react much towards the emptiness as he carefully removed the filled condom, tied it up and threw it into the small waste bin stuck in the driver’s side’s door pocket. Cleaning the interior of his car sounded like a great bonding activity.

Just like how the joint effort of cleaning each other up in silence was. Wet wipes swiping here and there, you even made Jeno swear up and down that no marks were left on visible places, but it’s whatever. With how things were lined up today, everyone will be too busy with their own agenda instead of debating whether or not one of you got some that morning.

That’s what you hoped for at least. You never knew with your coworkers, honestly. They were like vultures when it came to gossip, so you’ll have to rely on your few lucky stars that they won't smell it on you.

Then again, would it really be that big of a deal? People changed their minds—like, all the time, and it wasn’t like treason was being committed canoodling with the person you had once hailed as the villain of your story. Sex was simply another thing added to normalcy, going at it like horny teenagers on nights where you should have been catching up on sleep. Which was like, most nights—if you had to be truthful—that condoms had to be strictly implemented despite your consistent ingestion of birth control. Anything to prevent unwanted miracles.

(Jeno’s hand that held the whiteboard eraser immediately shot out to shamelessly erase the word ‘condoms’ from the grocery staples list.

“I may be a slut, but I take safety very seriously,” Jeno insisted, pouting when you still wouldn’t budge, hip checking him to re-write ‘condoms’. “I get tested, like, every week. I’m as clean as a celibate!”

“Hearing ‘celibate’ coming out of your mouth just sounds so wrong.” But you’d still give him his flowers for exercising caution for both his and your health. You smacked his hand away. Half for another attempt at erasing the word ‘condoms’ and half for reminding you of his wide pool of sexual partners. “We’re still stocking up on condoms.”

‘Lube’ was also scrawled underneath. Better safe than sorry and you would like to avoid any sexual mishaps if you could).

Jeno never asked questions. Never became a point of conversation when you had unanimously claimed one side of his bed for yourself. When it was where you ended up on a frequent basis, you supposed it was way past being questioned, but accepted, that you were beginning to forget what your own bedroom looked like besides your closet and desk. Like the more you veered away from the comfort of your own room, the more you got to find out just what made Jeno tick and how much of a freak he actually was.

You’ve come to find out that prescription glasses in particular could rile him up. Tried and tested by accident.

When you had taken your attention away from your iPad and honed it towards the direction of Jeno's sharp intake of breath, you found him staring at you from where he stood underneath the awning, pink-cheeked and mouth slightly agape with his windbreaker half-way off. A disheveled version of him; a frequent result of coming back from a two to three-hour long gym session, minus the blatant ogling. Seriously, why was he looking at you like that?

You tilted your head in question, eye-glasses sliding down your nose. Jeno made a wounded noise and stumbled his way closer, almost tripping over his discarded shoes.

You narrowed your eyes at the urgency in his movements. “…what is it?”

“Glasses,” Jeno said in a way like it was punched out of him, “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“Oh, these?” Your knuckle pushed them back up into place and for some reason, this caused Jeno to bump into the side table with an aborted curse. “Probably because I don’t wear them often? I wear contacts, but they get uncomfortable for a while. I could get my eyes fixed with LASIK—or something else invasive, but I have this irrational fear of getting it so… I’m stuck with these.” You explained, ending it on a coy note as you fluttered your eyelashes for shits and giggles then followed up with: “I think I look cute. Don’t you think so?”

Oh, Jeno for sure thought so. More than he should, actually, or else he wouldn’t have ended up jerking off right in front of your face. On top of you, rather.

They were the very last thing you’d think would grant you an exclusive straight out of a porno, but this was Jeno. A kink that involved you wearing glasses was probably just the tip of the iceberg concerning Jeno’s lore, and that wasn’t to say that the absolute desperation to make himself cum was any less hot. To add on that sentiment, you have never expected being used—somewhat—would be this enticing either.

Or maybe it was just Jeno and the way he made everything he did ten times more appealing for what it actually was. As one does when you’re that hot, unfortunately.

Either way, Jeno managed to tote around this artful carefulness with him even in this unhingedly horny and desperate state, making sure you were comfortable and that he wasn’t crushing you with his weight. He sat on his haunches, muscular thighs on either side of your torso to keep himself upright while tugging on his cock. And to further solidify the perfect picture of desperation he posed for, he had his dri-fit shirt rucked up high enough to sit under his armpits while biting down onto the bottom hem, tampering down most of the noises he made and exposing the milky, dewy flushed skin.

That quickly became useless the moment you thought to help him out a little; nails lightly scratching down the outrageous rack of abs just to feel him twitch underneath the pads of your fingers. The whine that followed was add bonus. Flicking your tongue against the underside of his cockhead to hear his guttural moan and letting the cloth fall from his wet mouth, his legs squeezing you until the shallow rutting of his cock in and out of the heat past your parted lips made him cum. Some of it pooling onto your tongue and the rest of it lewdly marking your face in white.

“Ugh,” you groaned, “you got cum on my glasses.”

“‘M sorry,” Jeno murmured, hastily reaching for the box of tissues. It was easier to breathe, now that he was off your chest and in between your thighs. Jeno in general made it hard to breathe sometimes, but he also knew how to ease you from it. “Sorry. I’ll clean them for you.”

You hummed your appreciation, one hand running through his hair that’s due for a cut soon and smiling when Jeno pushed himself higher to kiss you. Like he couldn’t help himself with how urgent it felt that you could taste the salty muskiness of his release, your tongue sliding against his.

The thought of getting off yourself was forgotten in the midst of the torrid kissing you were subjected to, completely content with being smothered by Jeno until he offered. Wanting to return the favor, and that’s another thing you’ve come to find out about him. Jeno liked giving more than the average male would. A giver and always eager to please. At least that’s what you thought, or it was simply a Jeno-exclusive thing.

Then again, were you really going to complain when that’s all Jeno wanted to do?

Evident in the way he clambered over you, pushing you into the plush confines of the couch that had seen way too many things to the point you had conned Jeno into getting it steamed cleaned at his expense. Thick fingers worked their magic, sinking deep into your sopping cunt, the squelching sounds becoming nastier than the last as Jeno swallowed every noise you made with each kiss.

“You’re crazy,” you said, breathless and staring in wonder when Jeno seemed just as blissed out as you felt, your thumb gently swiping over his lips. You were so deep in the troughs of post-orgasmic bliss that you didn’t have the heart to push him off of you. “Insane.”

Jeno laughed, soft and sweet, his eyes turning into gentle crescent moons, pressing a kiss to the pad of your thumb. “Thirty percent crazy to your seventy percent. Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He kissed you again. “You make me crazy.”

That’s fair. You were aware of your own bouts of insanity when in a rush and you supposed the frantic pitter-pat of your heart was one of the handful of quirks that came with it.

“...right?”

You blinked back into present time, finding yourself still perched on his lap, but a lot more decent compared to when you were getting your morning fill of everything Jeno and completely missing what he just said.

“Say that again?”

Jeno’s pout didn’t last for long—though long enough that you fought the urge to coo—gazing up at you with big, almost wet eyes.

“This,” he stressed, gesturing half-heartedly between you, “It’s good, right?”

The sex? Well, yes, though ‘good’ was severely underselling it. Jeno knew that. You knew that. What you didn’t know was why he was bringing up the unspoken arrangement you decidedly have now and questioning whether it was adequate or not.

“Good as in..?” you trailed off, leaving an open for him to latch on and speak.

Jeno's lips flattened into a thin line with his gaze straying to the side.

You let out a puff of breath. Cute. “C’mon, Jen,” you said almost in a crooning manner, tipping his chin up with a brush of your fingers so he would look at you. “Work with me here.”

“Good as in—I wouldn’t mind if we become exclusive,” Jeno said, shy and making an effort to keep the eye-contact, but as soon as the pink dusted the tips of his ears, the faded graphic on your T-shirt became the most interesting thing to him.

Exclusive fuck buddies? Not a terrible proposition, you might say, and it wasn’t like you had people lined up like he did, so that left you with very limited options. Option being limited to the lone man acting as your seat and currently trying his very best to not look too eager while you internally weighed your options.

One less thing to be dealt with if you’d say ‘yes’ would be the loud noises that had disturbed your night. Instead, the noises would be coming from both you and Jeno which was already the reality anyway as he hadn’t brought anyone home for a while now. Why would he when he had you? So the answer was pretty obvious, you told him, which granted you an oddly ecstatic Jeno; capturing your lips in a quick but searing kiss the moment you made your decision explicit before you rushed out of the car when you caught sight of the time on your smart watch.

The TL;DR version of it was, ever since the coffee table incident, things have been relatively smooth sailing. It’s been an easy ride with Jeno. The roommate thing, sex and even more sex.

It had gotten to the point where your peers could tell that something was up, too.

Nothing too drastic to write home about. At least that was what you thought as the change was evident enough to some, where passing comments—mostly directed towards how you appeared more well-rested than what they were used to seeing—also took a slot in what to expect from days to come post getting dicked down by your roommate. How your mood had drastically improved that smiling had been at its easiest no matter the grueling working conditions, which was completely mutually exclusive to you sleeping like a baby, by the way.

That’s what you liked to tell yourself. You know, like the awful liar you were.

“You’re also glowing,” Yizhuo added more to the pile of observations while flipping through a chart, then froze to stare at you in alarm. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“No. I am not with child—don’t you have to play nurse elsewhere?”

She scanned the chart with a hum. “Not until one-thirty.”

“No need to be defensive. We all know having children is the last thing on your mind right now,” Renjun chuckled, slowly spinning on an office chair he had claimed for the day. He stopped, narrowing his eyes towards your direction in appraisal and a smidge teasing. “But for real though, you’re looking good lately. Less tense, Less stressed—no gray hair in sight—and like Yizhuo said, glowing.” He shrugged. “It’s just nice to see our headstrong nurse finally living her life outside of the hospital.”

You winced. “You make it sound like I’m a workaholic.”

“Who says you aren’t?” Renjun smiled sweetly—disarmingly, because he knew the advantage of having a pretty face. You’re less likely to get pissed off with what left his mouth whenever he did that. “What’s changed?”

You lift a shoulder to shrug. “I dunno. I’m getting laid on the regular—yeah, surprising. I know—I’ve been catching up on sleep. Life’s… good right now.”

As good as it could be, and it’s more than you could ask for, really.

“You’re ‘getting laid on the regular’?” A new voice chimed in. “I just saw pigs fly.”

Renjun threw his head back from a belly-deep laugh as a vein pulsed on your temple.

“Can I have one day—one day—without you pissing me off?”

“No can do.” There was a smile on the newcomer's face. A smile equal parts charming and grating as the current bane of your existence sauntered over with the edge of his clipboard resting on one of his broad shoulders. “So who’s the poor piece of meat stuck with you until you spit ‘em out?”

That caught your coworkers’ attention again.

“Is it someone we know?” Yizhuo pushed, with Renjun honing in as both leaned in closer, expectant.

Eh… kind of? Jeno had been an on-and-off issue you had whinged about when someone cared enough to listen. There’s this distant image of him you’ve placed in their heads that would, for the most part, make it easier for them to sympathize why his promiscuous nature was such a problem for you. And they did, considering it wasn’t a difficult choice when they were also your friends outside of work.

Coming clean with the damning fact that you slept with the very same man that had made a portion of your life hell was completely off the table. You’d never hear the end of it and public shaming wasn’t really your thing.

Sungchan, to your dismay, was a little different, delighted that you kept your mouth shut rather than providing anyone the inside scoop of a train wreck you called your life.

If there was one nurse that could take your Nurse of The Month spot, it was fellow nurse Sungchan “Channie” Jung. With impeccable bedside manner and an endearing megawatt smile, he was considered an angel and was notoriously loved by many patients who had had their hand in luck being tended by him. It wouldn’t even be a surprise if there were only good things said about him on RateMyNurses.com.

That’s what public opinion hailed him as, but to you, he was simply Sungchan—a nurse a year your junior who had somehow managed to weld himself to your side back when he was still an intern; your personal annoyance, and a hundred times worse when it came to sticking his nose into someone else’s business for his entertainment.

You rolled your eyes when he closed the distance and slung a toned arm around your shoulders with a smile far too bright for anyone to have at this time of day.

“Mind if I steal her for a bit?"

“You slept with Jeno, didn’t you?”

“What?” You exclaimed, almost breathless as you sputtered a laugh that was neither convincing to you nor to your current interrogator. Still, you might as well try and hope that God was on your side today. “In what world would I fuck the guy I don’t like?”

Sungchan, who had been pacing back-and-forth with a gait that distantly reminded you of a harrowed father coming to terms that his only daughter got knocked up, stopped dead in his tracks right in front of you, staring you down with doe eyes lacking their usual friendly sheen.

You grew more uncomfortable the longer he looked at you. “What.”

His a-hundred-and-eighty-something tall self leaned in to get a good whiff of you, face screwing up in distaste. “You reek of sex,” he supplied before you could even ask what the fuck was that about. “You smell like a man. You smell like Jeno—did you guys fuck before clocking in?”

“Quit it! What the hell.” You pushed his face away. You were sure the scrubs that you washed all to hell would mask the evidence of your morning rendezvous. “How do you even know what Jeno smells like?” You were pretty sure Jeno wasn’t the only man who douses himself in Ferrari Light Essence whenever he leaves for an errand or two.

Sungchan arched an eyebrow. “So you did, then.”

“Answer the question.”

“I’ve been to your apartment,” Sungchan answered with a shrug, which directly translated to ‘I’ve snooped around. You can’t fool me. I know all’. “He’s used up, like, half of his Ferrari Light Essence. The one on his drawers,” he explained with an almost detached cadence, like he was simply talking about today’s weather.

You frowned. “That’s an invasion of privacy,” you hissed, but Sungchan barely looked chastised by that, something your eye twitched at. “And it could be one of the residents too. Not just him.”

“Yeah, no—see, it’s basic deduction,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world that even an idiot could get on with the program far above their pay grade. “I ruled out you sleeping with our superiors—or any of the hospital staff involved. You have too much self-respect for that. Not sure where it ends if your roommate’s involved, but he’s your safest bet, and you wouldn’t have to see Jeno at work either. So, less of a distraction. Also, there’s always this weird tension between you and him. Every time Jeno walks into the room, you either look like you want to kill or jump him, and we both know which choice you’ve made.”

You puffed out your cheeks with a forlorn pout. Damn it. He’s good.

“I don’t know, Chenle could be an exception,” you argued anyway, maybe a smidge petulant and just because it was fact a year or two ago when you were taken by his easy-going attitude and his penchant for taking care of anyone around him. Until you realized the trauma surgeon-in-training was better off as a friend when he couldn’t pick up any of your hints. You still thought he had killer cheekbones, though, and there was no shame in ogling every one in a while.

“You forgot to mention her inactive dating-slash-sex life.”

You shout in surprise as you whirled around to face the top bunk closest to you, a hand over your frantically beating heart.

“Oh,” Sungchan looked far too pleased with that addition. “and that too.”

“Were you just there the entire time?” you asked, almost hysterical. “Why are you here?”

“This is the on-call room.” Chenle’s raven head popped up with his cheek lined with sleep marks, appearing disgruntled from being disturbed from his cat-nap. He rested his chin on top of the bunk’s railing, eyeing you both in mild interest despite the sleepy haze. “I’m allowed to be here—and I’m flattered, really.” Chenle shot you a meaningful look. “but hard pass. I’d prefer someone less neurotic.”

Sungchan let out a loud ‘ha!’ and you were far too mortified from admitting to your questionable, yet old attraction to your past subordinate to even rebut that and spark a debate with a guy just as competitive as yourself.

Chenle cracked a lazy smile after a moment of three of you exchanging looks. “So, Jeno, huh?” If one of them says his name one more time, you fear that his namesake would appear in this very room. “Makes sense. You’ve stopped bitching about him.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it…” Sungchan trailed off. “I was starting to think you killed him, or something. Didn’t think he’d buy your silence with sex. How did that even happen?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was an accident?”

Chenle tipped his head back with loud peels of laughter escaping him just as Sungchan rolled his eyes so hard that you silently hoped they’d get stuck staring into the void of where his brain was supposed to be.

“Be serious—an accident, she says.” Sungchan said in disbelief. “What, like his dick miraculously shoved itself deep into you without either of you knowing? Very funny.”

“What do you want me to say? It just happened—we were arguing,” (“of course you were.”) “We ended up kissing, then he fucked me on the coffee table—“

“Does he know people eat on that?” Chenle whined. “I eat on that.”

Your cheeks were scalding to the touch as you spoke through clenched teeth, “I couldn’t exactly ask since we were busy—”

Whatever else you had to say was cut short, much to the relief of both men when your phone buzzed from the pocket of your scrubs.

Sungchan took one quick peek at the lit up screen of your phone and snickered. “Speak of the devil.”

Chenle scoffed. “Jesus Christ, did I invoke his spirit or something?”

You immediately hushed them, tapping the answer button in haste.

“Hi, Jeno.”

Your voice took on a higher pitch as you greeted said roommate (whether it was from excitement or relief, you weren’t going to think too much about it) and completely glossed over the shared glances between Sungchan and Chenle because of it. There were a couple of things you’ve done in the past that were way worse than changing how you spoke to somebody.

“Hey, honey.” Good God. You were going to kill him.“Did I call you at a bad time? You sound worked up.”

“Peachy,” you ground out. “What do you want?”

“I brought you lunch? Well, no. I brought it, then left it with Jimin.”

“You didn’t poison it, did you?” You asked, dubious and gave Chenle the middle finger when he mimed making out with the air. Unbelievable. To think you’ve fantasized sucking his dick in one of the storage rooms before. “‘Cause why the hell would you be bringing me lunch when I brought lunch myself—”

“Actually, no. You forgot to pack food this morning.”

That gave you a start. “No I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“...really?”

Jeno hummed as an affirmative. Huh. No wonder you felt like you were forgetting something. “I was waiting for you to notice in the car, actually. Or maybe call me about it.”

You scoffed. “Why would I?”

“I’m your roommate,” he said with a sigh. Like that answered everything. “You can call me for shit like this—I mean, you could demand me to make you cum, but—“

“Uh, yeah. I think I got your point—“

“But you can’t ask me to bring you food? And not everything has to turn into an argument, by the way. I come in peace.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

Jeno sighed again, followed by a gravely drawl of your name.

Your mouth twitched. “Sorry. Force of habit,” and you supposed it was a hard habit to break when Jeno had been the bane of your existence. He still was, kind of. On a lesser scale. “But seriously, you didn’t have to. Don’t you have work?”

Because it wasn’t the first time where the thought of bringing enough sustenance to last you through your shift flew over your head, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. The food served at the hospital’s cafeteria wasn’t too horrible, though it would not be your first choice. Only when you were in the trenches of desperation would you consider eating what was considered a bland diet.

“I took half a day off. It’s no big deal, and I wanted to.”

Having your roommate to simply bring you food had never been an option until now. There was no need to tell him either. Jeno simply chose to make the forty-minute drive to your hospital by his own volition to make sure you’ve eaten and the unprompted courtesy was enough to tamper the possible shift in moods you’d go through for today.

“Thanks… I guess.”

“Of course.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll see you at home?”

“On the dot.”

“Okay. Talk soon.”

“Bye.”

The line went dead right after a softer farewell from Jeno, prompting you to tear your gaze from your phone and glower at Sungchan. Only to balk when he stared back as if you were some fucked up specimen he couldn’t for the life for him figure out. Or judging you, probably.

“What the hell was that?” Sungchan blurted out.

“What was what?”

“Girl, you were smiling back there. Like—” and Sungchan made a rather offensive impression of you smiling and fluttering your eyelashes, face falling flat right after, then raising an eyebrow to signal for an explanation.

“What? Am I not allowed to smile when my asshole roommate brings me lunch? Maybe this is his way of saying ‘hey, sorry for being an absolute moron. Would good dick and good food count as groveling?’”

“Knowing you? Probably.”

“…Maybe.” You immediately waved that thought away with a grimace before swatting at Sungchan’s arm, earning you a yelp. “Horrible impression, by the way. I do not look like that.”

Sucgchan soundlessly parroted the latter half of what you just said in a mocking manner while soothing the spot where you hit him, then his face slowly flattened to something more thoughtful.

“Ugh. What now?”

He began with a long-suffering sigh, folding his arms, “I really hope you’re being smart about this.”

You did not like how critical he sounded. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The anger didn’t deter him in the slightest as he merely offered a non-committal shrug, gaze steady. “I’m just saying. I’ve been friends with you long enough to figure out you aren’t the type to willingly get yourself into situationships.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not a situationship.”

“Sounds like one to me,” Chenle butted in.

You shot him a glare, something he waved off in blithe disregard. You really missed the earlier times where these two were still cautious around you.

“Are you going through a quarter-life crisis or something?” Sungchan asked. “Because looking at Jeno’s track record, he’s definitely the last person you’d go for. I thought you hated the guy?”

“I can still fuck the guy and hate him at the same time. It’s not mutually exclusive,” you joked, then sighed at the matching deadpans you got. “Seriously, you guys, It’s not like I’m expecting anything more.”

It went silent for a while. Neither Chenle had anything to say, and he was a chronic commenter towards conversations like this; though you weren’t sure if staying mum was better than giving his needless two cents. Chenle talked mostly to defuse the growing tension, proven quite useful when the time called for it. Then there was Sungchan again, staring at you as if he knew something you didn’t. It made your skin crawl and you were about to snap again when he beat you to it.

“I know,” he said evenly. “I’m just looking out for you.”

All the simmering animosity was put to a standstill, a small pulse of guilt rattling your heart because of course he would. Sungchan meant well like any other friend who genuinely cared for your well-being, and you reciprocated the sentiment seeing that you wouldn’t think twice elbowing the next asshole who would go against any of your friends as well.

“I get that. I do, but I’m also capable of making my own decisions.”

“Sure—yeah, but there’s still a fifty percent chance of this one coming back to bite you in the ass. Should I remind you of the twenty-twenty-two incident? That one model. Starts with a ‘Y’, ends with an ‘N’—”

“Okay, but we didn’t start as fuck buddies. And I genuinely thought we had something—“ Which was crazy to admit out loud despite it being the truth. “Yeonjun was awfully clingy and sweet.”

Granted, he had been like that with everybody, but even so, you had somehow deluded yourself into believing that Yeonjun reserved a piece of himself that only you had access to. How he spoke in hushed tones with the tenderness of a lover promising you the world. How his eyes matched the words saturated in reverence like what he had sitting in front of him was a multitude of stars banding together to form into a person that would fit the puzzle of me and you. Arguably, a soulmate.

Anyone who had been indefinitely touched-starved would have reveled in the delusion meticulously curated for them, or so you’d like to say as a form of reassurance. It was truly an embarrassing time.

“You really can’t blame me for thinking he was serious about me.”

Six passion-filled months. There wasn’t a day where Yeonjun wasn’t there, and then he fucked off to fuck-knows-where without even so much as a goodbye. Ghosted you, pretty much that you almost went catatonic with the constant overthinking, whether it was a problem on your end, or a ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ type of thing.

That low period to you now was a fuzzy whirlwind of your friends lending their hands to help you get back onto your feet. Grieving of what could have been was an inevitable risk you refused to entertain then, and once you had powered your way through its five stages, a sixth stage was factored in: a milder version of arson. An addition Mark took great pleasure in when he insisted on handling the fire on your behalf.

Stolen ‘boyfriend’ clothes, received gifts, tangible memories in the form of paper like movie tickets, polaroids and a receipt from a yogurt shop’s grand-opening; all burnt with the vigor of a prehistoric man discovering fire, except this all happened in the apartment’s parking lot on a muggy spring midnight.

“Which is why I’m praying to every deity out there that you’re actually using your brain for this one,” Sungchan stressed. “and not treating this as an enemies-to-lovers type of situation. This isn’t Wattpad.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Appalled that he would even associate you with that capitalistic nightmare. And calling you stupid, too, you supposed. “I literally just said I wasn’t expecting anything other than sex.”

“We’ll take your word for it, then,” Chenle said, then raised both of his hands in defense when Sungchan fixed him a stern look. “What? You heard her. It doesn’t go any deeper than sex. She’s thought about this. That’s proof enough that she’s using her brain for once.” He turned to look at you, barely apologetic. “No offense.”

Your eye twitched. “Offense taken, asshole.”

Chenle smirked. “Good.”

“I hope your next case dies on the table.”

Sungchan stared at you for a long time. Besides the unwavering gaze, there was nothing you could latch onto that would have hinted to what he could possibly be thinking in the moment as those brown doe eyes of his pierced into the most vulnerable part of your soul. But you were just as stubborn in that regard, staring right back.

Sungchan broke first with a resigned, yet irritated sigh.

“Fine,” he said. “Fine. If the sex makes you less of a bitch than usual, then be my guest.”

“Wow,” you huffed. “you both are equally dogshit at this whole talking thing, you know that?”

And it wasn’t like you were clueless, obviously. Naive was one thing you weren’t and you knew exactly what you signed up for when your gaze would unconsciously trail after Jeno’s sinewy figure padding around the apartment after bumping uglies. When you became less irritated with everything he did such as breathing too loudly, and when you slowly, but surely started seeing Jeno as a friend, too.

Labeling yourselves as roommates was one thing as it was expected to have a level of civility there with one another. Settling on friends, on the other hand, made a sizable difference when the steadily growing bond gradually fizzled out the prior awkwardness after being at your most vulnerable. Jeno never made you second guess the unspoken agreement of being at each other’s beck and call, and in fact, he has been rather sweet about it. Dare you say it, doting even.

It was an occasional thought that would pop into your head during your quieter times away from work; if your roommate had the same candied regard for any wayward soul falling into the same bed, while at the same time, all logic told you Jeno was simply like that—kind and considerate to everybody no matter who they were. So the thought was quickly put to a rest.

Your phone lit up with a resounding ping.

Jeno Lee: eat well ‎(੭.◜◡◝)੭ ᯓᡣ𐭩

“Good God,” Sungchan groaned. “We lost another promising young woman to a man.” You shoved at his shoulder.

Though, maybe one small part of you thought being roommates had put you above the rest.

Jimin continued watching you devour your lunch like an overtly curious cat. Big-eyed and non-blinking, fixated on every minute movement you’ve been making that her salad was momentarily abandoned.

“Wow,” she whispered. “You’re fucking that up real good.”

“I’m fuckin’ hungry, damn,” you snapped, bits flying out of your mouth. Jimin barely batted an eyelash at the crumbs hitting her flawless face, smiling fondly. “I’ll ‘fuck up’ anythin’ at this point.”

“Fair enough,” Jimin conceded and took a more delicate approach in eating, giving her iceberg lettuce a dainty nibble; bunny-pink lips clashing nicely against the leafy green.

Painful as it was to admit, the chicken and veggie wrap, previously wrapped in foil labeled with ‘chicken veggie wrap :)’ in Jeno’s audacious scrawl, was delicious. So delicious, in fact, that it took only two large bites to reach half its original length. No wonder Jeno had been incessant with the whole meal prep thing. The guy knew his flavors pretty damn well. You could just picture him in your kitchen; the same pink frilly disaster of an apron cinched around his lithe waist, counting down the hours while making sure not a thing was out of place in a simple wrap until he had to make the lunch-run.

There was also a granola bar thrown in there. Jeno put you up on them after he had caught you snagging a few from his stash during a midnight kitchen run-in. You remember almost pissing yourself laughing when you had walked in on him subscribing for two boxes to arrive at your doorstep with a sweet pout just so he won’t run out as quickly now you’ve taken a liking to them. A bottle of orange juice because nagging how you’re in much need of some Vitamin C wasn't enough for him and lastly—for dessert—a small packet of organic gummy bears you were sure was made for toddlers, judging by its packaging.

Not that you were complaining. They were good; you’ve eaten five packets in one sitting after not finding anything from your stock of sweets and junk food which led to Jeno ordering extra of those, too. He mentioned it was a healthier alternative to the jellies he would be tempted to reach for when he craved some extra sugar.

Goddamn. This is so good. A contented hum and a wiggle of your shoulders expressed the sentiment, much to Jimin’s amusement. Right when you were about to take another gargantuan bite out of Jeno’s then eight-incher wrap, you came to a screeching halt at the sound of Mark calling your name.

Aside from Mark’s teal Fig scrubs, he was easy to spot when his already bright smile became blinding; the sun might as well shine out of his ass when he saw Jimin sitting with you, pleased that you were on talking terms again.

Unlike Jeno, Jimin had it heaps easier when it came to your forgiveness, and like Mark, Jimin had also been with you from stepping foot into your freshmen orientation, to the last walk after securing your degree. The only difference was Jimin had already been living with a mutual friend, and instead of the distance waning your closeness, it did the exact opposite. And if that wasn’t enough, you both got placed in the same hospital as an odd sort of compensation as well. Funny how the universe worked.

Sure, Jimin may have tinged a very small part of your suffering, but that was an easily buried hatchet. Besides, with your long withstanding friendship, you wouldn’t let a man come in between you both. Even if that man was Jeno Lee.

She was also the only other person who knew of your situation with Jeno. You thought it was only right to let her in on the secret, given she also slept with the man.

“Hey girls,” he greeted once reaching your table. “What are we talking about?”

“Jeno.” Jimin gestured towards you mid-bite. “He brought her lunch like a good housewife.”

“Oh dude, really?” Mark looked absolutely thrilled at the thought and completely glazed over Jimin’s joke, grinning so hard that for a second, you considered asking him if his cheeks hurt. “Awesome. It's great to see you two getting along now. Seriously.”

That’s one way to say it, you thought, schooling your expression into something blank as you shared a furtive glance with Jimin.

“Thought I was gonna have to break up another fight soon.”

“They’re getting along just fine, or so I’ve heard. I don’t think you have to worry about her becoming a convicted felon,” Jimin went on to say, confirming your so-called truce with a grin far too giddy when not too long ago, you had resented Jeno’s presence.

Somehow, this was what Mark noticed when you caught his eyebrows slightly knit together with a head tilt, eyes darting back and forth between you girls Though, before he could nose his way into your business as usual, you quickly cut him off.

“Jeno and I are fine, Mark,” you stressed. “Are you sitting with us?”

“Ah, no.” Mark shook his head. “Dejun’s waiting on me. I just wanna confirm if you’re coming to the party next week.”

“Party?” you echoed, a little lost. “What party?”

Mark arched an eyebrow. “Our housewarming party?” You squint, trying to recall if your best friend had mentioned anything about that. Mark blinked. “I called Jeno two days ago about it. I thought he told you?”

“Oh, right! That party. Yeah, totally.”

The call you knew about, yes. You were at least mentally present enough to jerk at the shrill ringtone Jeno had set for incoming calls and ask him who the hell had the worst timing in the world to call either of you post-coital bliss, but not lucid enough to recall the details of their conversation. Not when Jeno had smoothed the wrinkles of your brain—severely compromising any neural functions in charge of forming a thought or kicking you into action—after fucking the living shit out of you, the roughness fueled by a particularly difficult work day.

Something about an entitled asshole of a client demanding more and more of his time and efforts. You weren’t too sure. Jeno hadn’t talked much after that, or at all, really; rather preoccupied with releasing his frustrations by chasing both of your orgasms with each snap of his hips. The most you got was a grunt or two—two from the times you’ve attempted taking control. A third attempt was never made. Jeno made sure of it, pinning both of your wrists above your head, a look of warning etched onto his face.

There was also the distracting sight of him, naked as the day he was born, pacing around his bedroom. He had been speaking low into the phone as he picked up after yourselves; gathering your clothes that were ripped off of each other in haste and then dumping them into his laundry basket, giving you a full view of his pale ass. Huh, there’s a mole on his left ass cheek—yeah, very distracting.

Jeno then turned around to face you, dick and balls swinging at that, still on the phone with Mark yapping about whatever and mimed drinking out of a mug with a quizzical glint in his eyes. Coffee?

You nodded slowly, curling further into the soft nest made up of the duvet, pillows and the sweet and musky scent of Jeno.

The last thing you saw before you dozed off was the gentle stretch of Jeno’s lips as he continued talking (seriously, how much did Mark have to say?) cheek and a broad shoulder holding his phone in place while pulling a clean pair of boxers up his thighs.

“If you can’t find your dog, just look for me.” That pretty much confirmed Jimin’s attendance.

Mark snickered then turned to you, expecting. “Are you and Jeno coming together then?”

“Well,” you trailed off, pretending to think long and hard about it just to mess with your ex-roommate. “Jeno is the one with a car, so…”

When Mark started to look sulky, that’s when you laughed and took a pause from pulling his leg.

“Yes. Jeno and I are coming together.”

“Mark’s housewarming party.”

Jeno, who had been in the middle of stuffing the washer with your clothes combined, looked at you with an eyebrow raised. You stared back at him. “Seriously? You’re not going to follow that up with anything else?”

“I wasn’t aware it was happening so soon.”

Both eyebrows disappeared underneath his hair. “You were literally in my room when Mark called. He was on speaker.”

Was he now? Because all you could remember was a muffled sound of something talking Jeno’s ear off. Nothing was coherent to you during that time. You were fucked too stupid, unfortunately.

“I can’t recall,” you said mostly to yourself, but it was still heard anyway, judging by the tinge of amusement lighting Jeno’s face. “I think I was distracted.”

“Were you?” The overhead light made Jeno’s teeth glint almost dangerously as he grinned. As if one sudden move from you would end up having those sharp pearly whites of his pressed against your throat. “Distracted? You? Care to elaborate?”

The thing about living under the same roof for months and counting was your roommate will inadvertently pick up on things. One of them being the hows of dealing with you and you so called riddle-speak of passive-aggressiveness—patient and kind Jeno. There was none of that now. What stood tall before you was almost like a crude version of yourself molded by long-term exposure alone. Jeno was pushing back, more than usual—posing as a challenge almost; to give you a taste of your own medicine, but you were never one to back down.

With each step you took towards Jeno, an article of clothing came off. And with each of them falling with dull thump, Jeno’s eyes grew wider, jaw dropping further until it hit the ground when you stood so so close—a hair’s breadth away that he could make out the remnants of the cloying notes of your perfume—bare as goosebumps erupted on your skin from the cool blast of the air conditioning and the dark look Jeno fixed onto you when you plop your clothes into the almost empty laundry basket he held.

“Well?” You said, biting back a laugh by chewing on your lower lip as you peered over your shoulder to find your roommate still frozen while you were already halfway across the room. “Aren’t you coming?”

You had no interest in hearing his answer (it was obvious), spinning on your heel to make the sensual trek towards his bedroom. Though, you supposed, hearing Jeno scramble and swear like a damn sailor was worth not feasting your eyes on what it was like watching Jeno Lee lose his goddamn mind.

There was a knock on your en suite and Jeno’s head popped in through the opening of the door.

“Ready when you are,” he said, beaming when he met your gaze through the mirror.

“Almost,” you said, frowning slightly when you couldn’t get your eyeliner just right. “If my eyeliner does its fucking job.”

“Want me to help?” Jeno walked in, gently taking the liquid eyeliner from your shaky fingers and patting your hip so you could turn around and face him. “I’m pretty good with my hands.”

“Mm, I bet. Is that what you say to the other girls?” you jeered, but let him cradle your cheek nevertheless for him to save your poor attempt at evening out your eyeliner. You tilted your head back to make it easier and Jeno hummed, pleased with your rare compliance.

“They were never really up for talking, if I’m being honest—close your eyes for me—thank you.” His voice was soft. As soft as the felt tip that swiped a clean line above your eyelashes that left a slight cooling sensation from the ink. “Always a one and done thing,” he said this quietly, all too quickly, which gave you quite a start. Jeno didn’t seem to pick up on (thankfully) as he continued to talk, “and I have an older sister who's notorious for sharing her hobbies. I know too much about makeup and true crime. You aren’t going to kill me after this, are you?” That made you laugh.

“She sounds really nice,” you offered instead, thinking it wouldn’t be good to nudge the crack of vulnerability wider when you had to be somewhere else soon.

“She’s the best,” Jeno switched to your other eye, “You’d get along with her, I think.”

Somehow, the notion eased you. “Tell me more about her.”

For someone who labeled himself quiet on most occasions, Jeno was rather loose-lipped when he talked about his sister, and it didn’t stop there. Not that it wasn’t welcomed—his voice was rather pleasant to the ears, you’ve observed, but it was likely due to the fact that getting Jeno to talk usually requires some coaxing, so it was a charming surprise. From what he said so far, there was this muddled, but workable silhouette of his family dancing around your head, an almost trustworthy point of reference if somehow you had to get Mr. and Mrs. Lee plus older sister Lee on your good side.

(“Just think of them as me, but in, like, different fonts,” Jeno said and he seemed quite serious about his claim, too. “You’ll be fine.”

“Ah, so you’d be easy to impress then. Got’cha.”)

Not only that, but the conversation steered towards the family cats he loved dearly, but was painfully allergic too. Either Seol or Nal would have been an exciting addition to your living situation and it took you a full minute to mourn the loss of a furry companion. Although you loved the idea and would do anything to make it a reality, Jeno’s health mattered most here. He might have given you a free trial of what hell could be like all those months ago, but you genuinely cared about his comfort and safety.

In exchange, Jeno got to know more about Mom and Dad. Mom ran a small coffee shop she had built from the ground up; a modestly sized café that sat just across the private hospital where Dad worked as a surgeon and unlike your roommate, Mom and Dad were blessed by only one daughter: you. Though you did joke that the family samoyed, Dozy, could as well be their second child from how he was loved so much as if he were their own, just like how they loved you.

“Y’know, he kind of looks like you,” you said as you handed over your phone to show your lock screen set as one of Dozy’s many pictures you had taken and went back to finish the rest of your face makeup. “Maybe it’s the eyes and how you both are so damn smiley all the time,” you chuckled. “Dozy’s always been a happy pup. I miss him.”

“Believe me, that’s not the first time I’ve been told I look like a samoyed,” Jeno said with a crooked smile as he slid back your phone to rest next to your makeup bag. “I’m pretty sure Hyuck’s convinced I am one.”

“You are quite the horndog. He’s not too far off. I won’t have to worry about you humping my leg, will I?”

“You’re not funny.” Jeno sulked, making you snicker at his pouty self.

“Is your dad why you became a nurse?”

You gave him a smile before facing the mirror to work on your eyelashes. “Kind of, but I think my aunt—Mom’s sister—was the one who influenced me, mostly. She always cared so much about people. Cared so much about me too, and she was like my second mom growing up. Especially when we moved to the city. And as much as I thought being a surgeon like Dad was cool, I wanted to be like Auntie more—more hands on with the patient’s recovery and care.”

You tubed the mascara, satisfied with the added definition to your eye-look. “I could have been like Dad though, but I never had the guts to stick my hands into people like he does.”

“Huh,” was all Jeno had to say and it made you snort.

“Yeah, I get that it’s surprising for you, given I wasn’t exactly nice to you at one point,” you said, sheepish as you stared at the clutter of make-up on the counter sink. “Sorry for being a major bitch, by the way.”

“No—no, it’s not that,” Jeno said, holding up a placating hand. “It makes sense, really—that you really care about your job. If anything, I should be apologizing.”

“Eh, it’s whatever.” You shrugged. “I’m not mad about it anymore. It’s just fun being mean to you for no reason sometimes.”

Jeno sighed in relief, and then grinned so wide that his eyes crinkled at the corners. “I can see why Hyuck and Jaemin like you so much.”

“It’s really hard not to,” you joked.

“I can agree with that, yeah.” Your roommate’s smile dimmed into something gentler, gaze slowly taking in your mirrored image, causing you to blink owlishly. Not at the blatant ogling because God knows how much of an ogler you were when Jeno wasn’t paying attention, but somehow the gleam nestled in the darkness of his eyes was starkly different from what you were used to when stripped down to your bare necessities. You supposed you should be used to it. Jeno seemed to have a bit of a staring problem.

You rid any thoughts relating to why that was with an immediate shake of your head. “What about you? What got you into cyber security?”

“Mine’s not really for a noble cause, or anything.” Jeno moved from where he stood behind you to stand to your right, resting his hip against the edge of the counter with his arms folded above his chest. “I was good with Math and computers. That evolved into programming, decided to make a career out of it and went to college while deluding myself that I’d make good money someday. Which kind of came true, I guess.”

“Sounds like you could afford an apartment by yourself then,” you said, recalling the time where Mark had told you about Jeno's exceptional credit score. Anything that fell under your roommate’s state of finances wasn’t ever mentioned and asking him point-blank was considered rude, but that alone was enough to give you an idea of how deep his pockets ran. Though the notion should have come faster to you, with how Jeno carried himself sometimes. Or his preference for the more obscure brands you haven’t heard of until him.

“You’re not trying to kick me out, are you?” He teased just as you were about to correct yourself. “I could have, yeah. I know I’m not the most social, but it can get very lonely at times.”

Now isn’t that the truth? Although the thought hadn’t crossed your mind all too much, you were no stranger to the feeling. You supposed you had to thank Mark for not letting you waste away in isolation when the guy practically viewed you as an extension of himself, always dragging you along for the ride which didn’t leave any time for you to wallow in a closed space with your hurricane of thoughts. He had always made sure you were out in the open and involved with anything under the wide umbrella of socialization. You’d be a hermit if it weren’t for Mark.

Where there was someone else acting on your behalf, there was no such thing when it came to Jeno. It's as if there was this gravitational pull drawing you into each other. You simply just found yourselves within each other’s orbit without any prompting and the silence that would usually follow hadn’t been as oppressive as you thought it would be, acting more of a companion and if anything, it reshaped your perception of it.

Sitting in silence was a form of a bonding activity you enjoyed with Jeno and it was just as gratifying disrupting the peace with breathless calls of his name.

“And now?” you pressed. “Do you still feel the same?”

“I haven’t for a long time, no.” I haven’t because of you, his smile and the tenderness that softened Jeno’s striking features seemed to say, but you didn’t let yourself hang onto the possibility. Prickly as you were, you were no exception to Jeno’s inherent sweetness. “Say, you haven’t put anything on your lips yet, right?”

“You watched me do most of my makeup.”

Jeno clicked his tongue. “Just answer my question.”

You heaved a dramatic sigh. “No, Jen, this is just lip balm.” Facing him, you peered up at him curiously. “Why? Do you want me to put on a shade that matches your tip?”

The surprised strings of laughter you pulled out of him was the loudest you’ve ever heard him, making you grin. “Jesus, shut up!” He wheezed with a playful swat to your wandering hands that almost closed in on his crotch. “I’m trying to be cute here.”

You huffed, charmed by his efforts. Like he wasn’t cute already to begin with.

“Alright, fine. I’ll bite. Why?”

When his laughter died down, Jeno’s hands moved before he spoke, warmth cradling your cheek as his other hand pulled you closer by the waist. “I really really want to kiss you right now,” he murmured as his fingers slowly trailed down to your neck, Jeno’s thumb swiping away the sticky remnants of the berry flavored lip balm and then settled into the little notch right underneath the hinge of your jaw. “It’d be a shame if I ruined it.”

Another gentle press of his thumb and fingers splaying down the side of your neck had you tipping back to watch him through half-lidded eyes. He was so close. The sweeter notes of Jeno’s perfume crossed with his minty aftershave brewed a scent so intoxicating, so Jeno. He smelled delectable that the next words he was about to say didn’t make it out when you got on your toes, wound your arms around his neck and kissed him.

It was sweet, though a little needy judging by how tightly Jeno’s hand clamped along the softness of your waist. If it weren’t for Mark and his girlfriend’s invitation hanging around your shoulders serving as a heavy reminder, you would have easily gotten swept up by the tempting idea of being ravished in your own bathroom by your handsy roommate.

“We’ll be late at this rate,” you mumbled against his mouth, dragging your hands down his shoulders then settling them on his chest.

Jeno let himself be pushed away, albeit reluctantly, with a resigned sigh. “Right,” he said with a sweet pout that would have done it for you, but you held strong to your self-control.

There’s a precious pink tinge to his cheeks as he watched you rifle through the spread of makeup on the bathroom counter with a serene smile.

“So, do you really have a lipstick color that matches my dick?”

“Man.”

To Jeno’s absolute delight, Mark’s girlfriend thought your lip shade and combo was perfect.

“It’s like the color was made for you,” she gushed as she led you inside and you looked at your roommate fighting a smug smile (that you had half the mind to swipe off, but you promised to yourself you’d be good tonight) while handing her his housewarming gift—a matching tea-set—along with yours: a pair of high-quality bathroom towels with the couple’s initials stitched onto them.

The space looked a lot more put-together than the last time you’ve visited (which was like a few days ago and now did you see the dynamic palette they were going for) and a lot livelier with everybody else ranging from your closest friends to mutual acquaintances chattering up a storm with one of Mark’s playlists breathing life and color into every nook and cranny of the apartment. It truly felt like a home now and you could never be more proud of your best friend reaching a milestone with the love of his life.

“How long do you think ‘til Mark pops the question?”

“Are we going by feeling, or logic?”

Jeno shook his head and steered you towards the kitchen for drinks, a hand splayed on your lower back. “Privilege,” he suggested. “Or logic too, yeah. Out of all of us, you’re the closest to Mark. I’m sure he’s talked to you about it at some point.”

There was a ring. That was one thing you were sure of, but the details of when Mark was going to get hitched hadn’t really become a topic for discussion. It’ll come in due time. You relayed this tidbit to Jeno which earned you a solemn nod while he poured you a glass of moscato with a thoughtful pursing of his lips.

You squeezed his bicep in silent thanks, taking a healthy gulp of the sweet carmine while Jeno took to nursing a bottle of beer and swiped a slice of pizza sitting idly on the counter among many other finger-foods for you, then served himself. The pizza was still warm and you were rather peckish, and you couldn’t care less if you looked like an animal chomping down on the greasy goodness.

Jeno didn’t look like he minded, simply reaching out to pet your head with a satisfied twitch of his lips before his hand fell back to his side. It filled you with something warm and fuzzy that you promptly drowned whatever the fuck that was with the moscato. Must be the cheese.

“Well, shit,” he said eventually, smacking his lips together after a sip and then took a bite of his slice that muffled his next slew of words, “I have this on-going bet with a few other people who’re wondering the same. Figured I’d win with your help.” Taking a quick glance at your now empty glass, he refilled it without any preamble.

“My condolences.” The idea of a betting pool centered around Mark’s foreseeable engagement was so ridiculous that it made you laugh and almost tipped your drink over. “sorry I couldn’t make you rich,” you offered after getting through the giggling and thanked him for the refill.

“It’s fine. I earn enough for both of us anyway.” Jeno winked, laughing softly when that made you choke on your drink a little and handed you a tissue to clean up the spillage.

The first hour consisted of you making your rounds as a pair, sticking close as you made polite conversation with anyone you knew as a unit until you inevitably branched out to catch up with your own closer set of friends. You were in the middle of bullying Renjun into talking about his own private life outside of work when Mark decided to unearth himself from whatever social pile had consumed him, excusing you from Renjun and Jimin, who in fact, had their dog held hostage like she promised. Yet Ziggy appeared rather content, if anything, dozing away in the cradle of her arms.

“I’m really glad you and Jeno could make it,” Mark said, eyes sparkling. “I was half expecting you to show up without him, or, like, ignore him the entire night.”

“Like I’ve said before, Jeno and I are way past the animosity,” you complained. “Is it really that hard to believe?”

“It’s kinda hard to move past the fact you’ve called me at fuck o’ clock just to tell me he looked at you wrong.”

(You had been enlightened that those were fuck me eyes Jeno was shooting you, but you didn’t think Mark would appreciate the clarification).

“Yeah, well, that was before Jeno and I decided to be adults and talk like you’ve said. We’re cool now.”

“I know, I know and I’m really happy about that.”

You huffed, squinting at him. “Way too happy.”

He grinned with a twinkle in his eyes and reached out to flick your nose. “I just can’t help but think that you’re only saying that to reassure me or something.” Mark raised, which didn’t make him wrong. God knows the exact amount of times you’ve called or texted the man in regards to your supposed then misfortune of taking Jeno in. “Glad to know that’s not the case.”

“You have no faith in me.” you said, dry. “We've lived together for almost four years and still, you have no faith in me.”

“I’m a ‘see it to believe it’ kinda guy, and I’ve seen enough to believe you. I’ve been trying to get you alone, y’know? And I can’t really do that when you’ve got Jeno hovering around you.”

“Okay? That literally has never stopped you before.”

Mark knew where he stood being the closest to what you would consider family, he knew the many advantages that came with it too and people were conscious of it as well, such as snatching you away mid-conversation with no repercussions. His current neutral mien then twisted into something shrewd and a touch gloating as though he was in on some kind of inside joke he could very well tell you about, but decided not to because it would be funnier for him.

“You both have my blessing then.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Mark, what the hell are you talking about?”

Mark also knew you hated not knowing anything.

Of all people, he was well acquainted with this pet-peeve of yours, yet it was so easy for him to give you a wordless pat on the shoulder and leave you in the dark. You were left even more lost when you caught him giggling to himself when leaving you on your own, probably to search for his better half, and that wasn’t even the end of it.

The simpering followed you all the way to the small collective of women you gathered with once every two weeks (minus Mark’s girlfriend who was likely still entertaining a few of their guests). Any other day, the sight of the girls would have filled you with elation, though it’s as if you weren’t allowed it under the varying states of coquettish looks you received and instead, confronted with the late realization that you’ve unknowingly walked into a snake’s pit.

It made your hackles rise and you wanted nothing more than to get out of there.

“What are the odds that I’d see an old hook-up at a housewarming party?” Jayme drawled, “and not only that, but he came with you too.”

You blinked slowly, already over it. “I would hope so since he is my roommate and the one with a car, in case you forgot.”

“No duh, we know that,” Aeri rolled her eyes. “but it’s still just so crazy to me! It’s like fate at work, y’know? We’ve all had our fun with Jeno once or a few times before he fucked off to somewhere and went radio silent, only for us to find out he landed at your door and stayed there. Indefinitely.”

“Uh huh. Kinda comes with the idea of having a roommate. You live with the person. Indefinitely.”

Aeri stuck her tongue out at you.

Fei cackled, making you turn to her with pleading eyes. This only made her smile turn sharper. “I’ve got to say, I’m kinda jealous that you have access to him twenty-four-seven,” she mused. “He looks really good tonight. I wouldn’t know what not to do to him if he lived with me.”

They were never really up for talking. Always a one and done thing.

Oh. So that’s what Jeno meant. At first, you had thought his blatant evasion was simply the result of the awkwardness that would at times stem after recounting his past physical involvements with anyone else. Showing up at this gathering—being in the same space with the handful of women Jeno had been with—you couldn’t help but wonder how he fared with the unprecedented reunion, especially within their range of scrutiny, because the more you listened to the girls talk, Jeno’s hesitance on broaching the topic grew easier to understand.

They were never really up for talking became this incessant drawl in your head, as grating as hearing the same damn mosquito buzz right by your ear alongside their flagrant chatter about your roommate and his performance limited within the four corners of his bed. To the girls, Jeno was nothing more than a toy to be discarded once they got bored playing with him.

“Okay—can you guys be normal for one second?”

You didn’t mean to snap the way you did, but if that put a stop to the one-sided conversation, then so be it. Whatever Jeno was feeling at the moment could not possibly be on par with the steadily growing irritation prickling under your skin. The last time you had checked on him, there was a relaxed slump in his form as he spoke with Mark and you hoped it stayed that way.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself. “He’s literally right there and this is hardly the time or place.”

They made it sound like Jeno wasn’t attached to the cock they raved about. A real human with real thoughts and feelings. It made your stomach roll uncomfortably just as you balled your fists to stop them from shaking. In and out. In and out. In and out.

Fei scrunched her nose as the rest of your posse leveled the cold bleeding into your words with mild alarm. “Girl, relax, it's all in good fun.”

“And aren’t you having as much fun with him?” Aeri asked, “since when were you a prude?”

A prude? Far from it. Promiscuous? Not that either. A healthy balance between two opposing natures, likely, teetering the fine line separating them. As far as you were concerned, however, no one knew—except for a small pool of people you've told personally—what you got up to with Jeno.

It was a running joke, the girls poking fun at the perk you refused to use to your advantage and there were times where you had been tempted to tell them just how often you pawed at Jeno until he gave in to your whims (which wasn’t all that hard really). In the end, especially after this talk, you’d prefer to keep the nitty-gritty details under multiple locks and keys.

“Or a hypocrite,” Jayme chimed in.

Leaving this place with a permanent scowl etched onto your face wouldn’t be entirely impossible.

“Just—just stop fucking talking about him like—like that. I—” I don’t like it. “It’s weird. Inappropriate.” you muttered, staring at your still tightened fists on your lap that bunched up the billow of your dress.

It went quiet for a while, like it does whenever someone expressed their grievances within the circle and it was especially unnerving when you became the very subject of the girls’ observation. You didn’t dare break under the pressure, staring resolutely at the loud artwork and wall decor hung up with an otherwise jaded stare. The least you could do was keep your head held high where your face could be seen so you wouldn’t get found out.

Fei took it upon herself to break the ice with a quirk of a thin eyebrow. “You think it’s weird?”

“It’s weird,” you echoed and offered nothing more. Saying that it pissed you off more than you had expected would just have them make something out of nothing, and dealing with it was not really part of your agenda for the night.

“You weren’t complaining before, unless…” Fei’s impression smoothed over as understanding dawned on her face. “Ah. Okay, I see.”

Okay, that’s also weird as hell because why was Fei (and the others) regarding you with the same look Mark had given you moments ago?

Whatever it was, your questions were unfortunately put on the back-burner the moment a pained yelp caught everyone’s attention.

When all of you faced the direction it came from and found Donghyuck writhing, it didn’t come as a surprise. Give Donghyuck an inch and he’d take miles upon miles until he found his limit. The limit seemed to be the man you just talked about this time as the crushing grip around Donghyuck’s hand pulled a pained whine from the latter. He must have ticked Jeno off so badly if his knees were so close to meeting the ground, as opposed to Jaemin who stood off to the side, lax and just happy to be there witnessing his roommate’s self-inflicted misfortune.

Aeri cleared her throat, “does that also mean we’re not allowed to look or..?”

“Look all you want,” you said, following it with a derisive noise and got up, dusting your behind as you went.

There was no harm in leaving them to feast their eyes on your Adonis of a roommate. They’re free to do as much. It’s not like they’re the ones who got to go home with Jeno and they sure as hell weren’t the ones who got to have him in any way you wanted.

“Oh, good,” Aeri said, relieved, and fully took advantage of the five second window to fix a hungry look onto Jeno which, yeah, totally understandable. She could have waited when you weren’t watching, though. “‘Cause your man looks insanely gorgeous tonight.”

You let out a scoff. You weren’t born yesterday and lord knows how you wished you were immune to your roommate’s charms. Being ignorant of Jeno supposedly winning in the genetic department was a rare feat on its own that even the agreement between strangers had been timely; double takes were more common than not when your roommate fit the equation, and tonight wasn’t any different.

Maybe it was how Jeno wore his dress shirt; three unlatched buttons to flash a glimpse of his pale chest with the sleeves folded to reveal veiny forearms phlebotomists fantasized about (you know you did. Sometimes. Where the hell was he when you needed someone to draw blood from for your labs and practicals?) or the plain jeans in the same shade accentuating his long legs, or the dramatic change to his hair.

A week ago, Jeno had mentioned getting his hair done. With the longevity of Jeno’s infamous blue hair, the immediate thought after telling him your usual boba tea order was he might have set an appointment to get a touch up like he had done a few times and keep the mullet, or at least give it a trim and keep it neat.

Neither of your assumptions were right and instead, Jeno had walked into the apartment with a two-block cut and hair dyed back to his natural shade of black as you were in the middle of vacuuming. It could have gone two ways, one where you could have finished with the list of chores you had for the day.

Eh, vacuuming can wait. I deserve a break, you had thought as the cold herringbone flooring met your knees, pulling down Jeno’s athletic shorts along with his stirrup leggings as you went—low enough for his dick to spring free before he could even utter a ‘hello’. That was a testament to how much you agree that, yes, Jeno might as well be the eighth wonder of the world. Truly a sight to behold. Sometimes, you couldn’t wrap your mind around the fact that he was real. That he was this irresistible.

You couldn’t even begin to explain how utterly obsessed you had been with him during the days leading up to the housewarming party; the looks, the wandering hands among the other very obvious hints you’ve dropped. Jeno at least enjoyed the attention, just as you enjoyed watching him gasp and whine with tears lining his eyes when the need to cum had his body going taut, his cock nestled deep in your throat.

“You’re so lucky.”

The corners of your mouth quirk at the sight of Jeno smiling sweetly amidst Donghyuck’s distress. “Sure am.”

Fei barked a short laugh, “congratulations.”

The comment went ignored, as well as the collective hooting when you hurried over to the trio of men standing just before the small hallway that led to the bedrooms and home office, talking among themselves. Well, the conversation was mostly carried by Jeno and Jaemin. Donghyuck was still whining from Jeno’s grip. How long had that been going on again?

Once you reached them, you decided to spare Donghyuck’s poor hand and wound your arms around Jeno’s arm closest to you, surprising both you and him considering you weren’t exactly a fan of PDA. However, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the least bit satisfied from the scandalized gasps the girls let out.

“Hi,” you greeted. Jeno did nothing to hide his apparent shock, granting him a wry smile and a squeeze to his bicep as you turned to face the gawking pair with practiced indifference. “Oh, it’s you.”

Donghyuck was the quickest to recover, wrinkling his nose. “You saw us, like, thirty minutes ago.”

“I’ve seen enough.”

As opposed to Donghyuck, who immediately pouted at your blithe disregard of him, Jaemin found it amusing, drawing in all the attention with a mixed noise of surprise and delight. “Look at you two,” he cooed, eyes the beadiest they’ve ever been as they darted between you with a sharp grin. “Since were you this cozy with each other?”

“Don’t act coy. You weren’t even supposed to know about us, but somebody couldn’t lie to save his life.” Jeno at least had half the mind to look a bit guilty with a bashful smile tugging at his lips, if not a little prideful, when he stood a little straighter. Ugh. Men.

Jaemin’s shark-like grin didn’t falter in the slightest. “It worked out, didn’t it?”

“Since I realized he was worth more alive than dead, yeah. I guess.” You gave Jeno’s bicep another self-indulgent squeeze and pressed your cheek against it. “He listens to me very well.”

Jeno jerked in your hold with an affronted noise.

“He’s always been such a good boy,” Donghyuck cooed and reached out with his good hand to scratch Jeno’s chin. “Aren’t you?”

You caught the twitch in Jeno’s eyebrow and for about three seconds, Donghyuck’s pain-filled shriek drowned out the excited chatter. Barely anyone batted an eyelash, used to your friend’s raucous nature, and the party carried on as usual despite the small disturbance. The least you could do was pat Donghyuck’s shoulder, much more delicate than Jeno could ever be with him. You still ended up laughing at his pitiful state, however, before pulling Jeno aside and leaving Jaemin to deal with the aftermath of his roommate’s sulking.

“You okay?”

You herded Jeno further into the same small hallway, immediately relaxing from the needed privacy. Everyone else was too preoccupied anyway. Small mercies.

“Yeah,” you said with a meek nod. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jeno’s face did this thing whenever his thoughts tend to process on the faster side of things. Although you’ve often seen this happen in real time, being on the receiving end of his muted scrutiny—at least from the times where you were aware—had been on the complete opposite of the spectrum. It made you feel a little weird inside, but you were honestly too tired to misread the look as something else that would then evolve into an argument you’d lead.

“For starters, you usually don’t grope me in public,” Jeno quipped, flexing his arm until his shirt tightened around the muscle and it’s actually so dumb that it was enough to make you laugh.

Jeno beamed, delighted.

“You have nice arms,” and you took it as an invitation to be handsy in the dim hallway. “Very nice to look at. Strong."

He rolled his eyes just as you inwardly winced at your lack of eloquence. Your attempt at ass-kissing could use some work, yet Jeno hasn’t made the move to pull away from your touch. He said it himself—Jeno was awfully easy to please.

“Just tell me what you want.”

“Your credit card details.”

Jeno raised an eyebrow.

“My credit…” He hesitated for a little bit, searching your face that—with years of practice—was schooled into a neutral expression that wouldn’t give anything away. Slowly, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a slightly worn leather wallet.

You cracked a smile. “I’m just fucking with you,” you chuckled. “I do want to go home though.”

He froze then hastily shoved his wallet back, pink in the face. “Right now?”

“Mhm, right now. It’s okay if you want to stay. I know you haven't been able to hang out with Jaemin and Donghyuck lately.” Jeno looked doubtful. “I’ll get an Uber home,” you assured him.

He didn’t answer right away, Jeno’s interest momentarily stolen by the party growing louder by each tick of the clock which you could immediately tell was Donghyuck’s doing from the distinct hearty yell of ‘Mark Lee!’.

A part of you understood that Jeno wasn’t technically bound by your decisions, disregarding the amount of times you gladly let Jeno bend, twist and pull you to mold seamlessly against him to a point where you couldn’t tell where he ended, or where you began. It’s not at all lost to you that you were still your own person just as Jeno had the free will to do whatever the fuck he so desired without you breathing down his neck, yet the other half of you—the ugly, selfish half hoped—wanted—Jeno to call it a night too and let himself get swept off of his feet to take him home. Hell, you half-considered shoving your pride aside to ask him to leave with you.

Though it seemed that no pride will take a hit tonight when Jeno gazed back at you with a sweet curl to his mouth and a gentle shake of his head. He reached out to loosely wrap a hand around your wrist.

“They can survive without me for a day,” he said as his fingers brushed down the back of your hand until they caught onto yours and laced them together. “Let’s go home.”

Everything dissolved into a blur after that. A blur of goodbyes to the hosts and the fair few that made up the shared circle of friends. You didn’t pay much attention to that; barely said anything, too focused on how well your hands fit together.

V.

“Would you do what it takes; If I fall, am I safe?”

“We’re getting old,” was the first thing you said the moment you and Jeno crowded through the front door. “Who dips at eleven?”

“It’s a reasonable time,” Jeno assured.

“Yeah, for losers.” He took your coat to hang it in the hallway closet with his. “We’re losers, Jen. What the fuck,” you whined, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“I don’t think anyone’s gonna think you’re a loser for wanting to go home? This isn’t college anymore. I promise you, no one gave a fuck that we left early, and no one definitely gave a fuck that Jaemin passed out like an old man on Mark’s recliner.” Jeno snorted and yeah, it was pretty funny catching the light sheen of drool poking at the corner of Jaemin’s open mouth as he snored with a beer in hand still, but he had a reason why he conked out in the first place. You, on the other hand, weren’t sure if your reason for leaving would be considered.

Leaving because you couldn’t stand the way your friends gossiped about your roommate for being (kind of) a slut didn’t sound like a valid reason to most.

“I’d sure hope so,” you said drily. “A neurosurgeon—is he crazy? Let’s just hope he won’t get sued for medical malpractice or n-negligence.”

Jeno whirled around with both eyebrows raised. “You okay?”

You managed to get your chattering teeth under control. “Just cold.” You ran warmer than most, which meant you get cold easily and it won’t be long until snow starts to blanket everything in sight and possibly turn you into a bi-pedaled popsicle the moment you step outside even underneath the layers upon layers you dreaded to put on—

“C’mere.” And that thought was immediately put to a standstill when you were swathed by a firm coil of warmth; warmth that was Jeno and his toned arms, toned torso, toned pectorals, toned everything around your shivering form, which was admittedly nice. Comforting. If this were a cartoon, you can imagine the steam rising thickly off of your body as Jeno smothered you more into him, cheek pressed right into his exposed sternum.

“So.” You sighed at the rumbling against one side of your face. “What’s the real reason why we’re home early like ‘losers’?”

Despite Donghyuck dragging Jeno’s supposedly lack of humor to filth, you had always found him funny. He knew how to time his jokes well. He could be just as witty as you, Donghyuck and Jaemin combined when he actually tried and you could agree that Jeno’s dry sense of humor wouldn’t always be a hit with everybody, unlike yourself who had been surprisingly easily entertained now that you’ve gotten over your one-sided beef with him. Jeno’s humor was an acquired taste. Usually, you’d be laughing by now from Jeno piggy-backing onto your joke, but you stayed mum and just snuggled further into the welcoming warmth.

There was a little bit of coaxing from Jeno while he kept you toasty, gently rocking you both from side-to-side. Your feet were starting to hurt from standing so long, but you’d take your chances of greedily absorbing Jeno’s body heat.

You sighed, adjusting so that you were peering up at him with your chin digging into his chest. “It’s stupid,” you began, taking a few seconds to get your thoughts in order. “Well—no, it’s me who’s being stupid, but—ugh. I don’t know. Maybe I’m being dramatic,” then quieter, ”fuck knows how often I’ve been called that.” You seethed, frowning as you broke eye contact and pushed your cheek to his chest again, finding the even beats of Jeno’s heart sort of soothing.

His response was to hold you tighter, lips pressing into your hair before he murmured, “whatever’s bothering you isn’t stupid.”

You huffed softly. “Thanks for the validation, I guess.”

“Don’t mention it.” Jeno squeezed you again and then pulled back a little to regard you in earnest. “What’s wrong?” His face then twisted to worry. “Who pissed you off? Did you get into a fight?”

Okay, sure you were short-tempered, bordering on trigger-happy, really, and you were well aware of your own shortcomings atypical for the ideal woman, so it wasn’t at all shocking that Jeno assumed so. But you were going to toot your own horn here and say you’ve been well-behaved the majority of the evening. With no debates or fights instigated by you; up until you lost your streak when the girls had spoken out of line.

It took you a while until the very thing that gave your mood a 180 shift came spilling out.

“How would you react if a person talked shit about someone… close to you?”

Jeno, who clearly wasn’t expecting any words from how cagey you had been prior, flinched at the timbre of your voice that echoed throughout your bathroom, wide eyes blinking at your expecting reflection.

“How close are we talking about?” He hit back, adjusting the Cinamorroll headband to get his hair out of the way and then reaching for his toothbrush that was somehow there.

When Mark had moved out, you immediately took the chance of claiming the master bedroom as your own. It had a sizable walk-in closet big enough to house a separate collection of clothes for two people to which Mark’s wardrobes barely filled and a large full bathroom with ‘his and hers’ sinks. You claimed one of them, most of your shit either organized in one neat row such as your skincare, or left haphazardly scattered when you were in a hurry.

Jeno staked claim on the other sink. There was his bougie whitening toothpaste. A container housing his retainers where its existence would occasionally be forgotten until you reminded him, a select few of his own skincare—a less elaborate collection which made sense when he, to your envy, had near-perfect skin—and—ah. A half-finished bottle of Ferrari Light Essence. The cologne surprised you the most. As far as you could remember, it had never strayed from its original place: Jeno’s dresser.

“Close enough,” you answered eventually, purposely vague and passed over the logistics of Jeno unceremoniously leaving pieces of him with you—in your space, when you were sure your cleansing balm melted away your makeup. You leaned closer to the faucet to wash off the evidence that you had been out.

“I’d be pissed, obviously,” Jeno said, not really noticing your subdued reply. He took a moment to brush his teeth, spitting out the foamy toothpaste once he deemed his mouth brushed enough and once your face dripped of clear water. “Like, it’s one thing being an asshole, but being an asshole to my friend?” Jeno scoffed, shaking his head to demonstrate his displeasure. “—is that what happened?”

“More or less,” you mumbled into a face towel.

Jeno’s lips twitched as he patted his face dry. “Do I have to force it out of you?”

You lifted one shoulder to shrug.

“Wow, this is really bothering you if you’re this quiet,” he tilted his head, contemplating. “Was it Mark?”

“Be serious. Name one person at the party who hates Mark,” and you’d be crazy to not like the guy. Mark had never once done anything to warrant any negativity that could affect his person. He was probably one of the rare few who possessed a soul so pure that it was almost impossible for any hatred to fester in one’s heart. Hating Mark was like hating puppies for simply wagging its tail, happy to see you. Ridiculous.

Jeno’s nose wrinkled when he couldn’t name anyone. “Yeah, no. You’re right. Jimin, then?”

Jimin had her fair share of trouble in regards to people thinking badly about her; rooted from jealousy, of all things—insanely gorgeous Jimin. A charmer, not just by her sheer beauty, but also because of how approachable she was. A social butterfly—but her confidence in herself simply did not allow her to crumble underneath critical eyes just waiting to exploit a crack in her facade. She couldn’t care less of what the masses had to say about her, and you could only wish that you possessed some semblance of Jimin's self-assurance.

You shook your head, sighing deeply as your bottom lip caught in between the worrying edges of your teeth before letting it free, shiny with spit. “You’d laugh at me if I told you.”

You received a milder version of a frown from that, though you did clock the lingering look he gave your mouth. “Hey, believe it or not, I actually care about your feelings, so I promise—” Jeno sealed it with a swift ‘x’ his finger drew above his heart. Cross my heart and hope to die “—that I won’t make fun of you.”

Ah, fuck it. It’d be like ripping a band-aid off. Quick, painless and, hopefully, easy.

“It was you,” you said, quiet at first and then you rolled your eyes up to the ceiling and repeated it a bit louder this time: “The girls—they were talking about you and ‘their time’ with you, which was fine at first before we—y’know,” you rolled your wrist to the air in front of you to gesticulate the exact situation you’ve found yourself with Jeno. It looked complicated, and neither of you could make sense out of it, so you gave up, folding your arms.

“Anyway, I just… didn’t like how they make it sound like that’s all you’re good for?” You winced. You could have worded it way better. “Like you’re some sex object with no thoughts or feelings—” oh my god, shut up. Shut up. Shut. Up. “and that essentially ruined my mood. Jesus. You should have heard how the girls were going on and on and on about your dick that could work miracles, apparently—actually, no, it would piss me off even more if I saw how uncomfortable you were, so I’m glad you weren’t there—what the hell are you smiling at?”

Jeno’s smile stretched—it’s a huge thing. Where it took up almost half of his face, eyes almost disappearing as it did, but they shone bright as ever. “You care about me,” he said, obviously delighted by the idea.

“Uh, no I don’t.”

Denying it didn’t shake him in the slightest. “Yes, you do.”

“You must’ve heard wrong.”

“I don’t know, my pure-tone audiometry scores have always been high.”

“You said you wouldn’t make fun of me,” you exhaled in defeat.

“I’m not,” Jeno laughed. “I’m just happy. I didn’t know you’d care this much about my rep. I already know that I am kind of a slut. That I got around a lot, and hearing you defend me and think I’m more than that… It’s—It’s really sweet of you.”

“Defend is kind of a stretch,” you admitted. The words left a sour after taste in your mouth that, for a second, if you were given the chance to turn back time, you would have done more. “I just stopped them from saying anything else.”

Sweet. That was the last word you’d ever thought of relating to your standing up for Jeno. You’ve been called many things when your bouts of aggression came out to play, especially when it came to your friends’ defense, but rarely anyone would call it, or you, sweet. Though, the way Jeno spoke it into existence… he seemed certain of his claim—mirrored it too—cheeks dusted a precious pink and lips curled in a curious blend of a bashful, yet gratified smile. Really, and if anything, he was the sweet one here. Jeno for sure had the face and disposition for it.

“Still, it’s something I really appreciate,” he assured, “I mean, you were thinking of me in that moment too, so by all means am I really flattered—”

“Oh, brother—”

“You’re a huge softie.” Jeno quickly scooped you up into his arms, much like how he did when you almost froze your nonexistent balls off from the creeping winter chill. Your cheek ended up being pressed to his chest once again, like Jeno just knew his pecs would calm you down which yeah. What the hell, sure. “Prickly on the outside, but soft and squishy on the inside.”

“You callin’ me a sea urchin?”

Jeno laughed. “Whatever you want—and, you care about me.”

You rolled your eyes. He’s never gonna let that go, was he? “Am I not supposed to?”

Jeno clicked his tongue. “I didn’t say that, but it’s nice to know that you do,” he said, voice doused with such tenderness that it didn’t come as a surprise that it bled through to show on his face, too.

“Yeah, well.” You evaded his gaze by gently pushing him away by the cheek, clearing your throat and hoping it would dissipate the climbing heat from your neck, up. Jeno’s arms fell from their secure hold around your waist, yet he still remained in close proximity—close enough that he might as well fuse himself to you. “If you’re done, I’m taking a shower.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Just take off your clothes before I change my mind.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a mock two-fingered salute.

The hot shower was a definite need in unwinding the tension in your shoulders. You retired to the living room after pulling on one of your looser sleep shirts and a pair of boy-shorts, and falling onto the couch in an ungraceful heap. You could very well pass out here, become Jeno’s problem to deal with while at it.

Speaking of, he sure was taking his sweet time.

“What’s taking so long,” you hollered. “Do you have a hot date or something?”

“Are you not my hot date?” He said and you whipped around, peering over the back of the couch where you could see Jeno in the kitchen, putting away the dishes and cutlery in their respective places.

“You got me there.” You gave him a flat look. “What are you doing?”

“I…” Jeno trailed off, prancing over to the fridge. “got you a cake.”

The main lights were off, the warmer accent lights providing an ample amount of light source. Watching Jeno move about, bathed in the soft glow, made the simple action of unboxing the dessert no bigger than the span of his hand more intimate than it should be. Maybe it was his apparent determination in making things more convenient for you was what had you looking at the sight with a rose-tinted lens. Or maybe you just wanted to eat the damn cake and heckling the guy was one way to get your hands on it faster.

“I don’t think it’s my birthday yet,” you said, charmed at the way he hobbled over with the said sweet treat, two dessert forks tucked into one of its sides in one hand and an empty wine glass to join you in drinking in the other. “Is this your way of making me feel better?”

“More or less,” Jeno acquiesced, carefully placing the dainty looking cake and glass on the table and then joining you in your comfort. “I know it’s still bothering you, but really, it’s okay. I’m used to it.”

And it's just like Jeno to check up on you, really. Always so conscientious when it came to you—with the expense of himself being a later thought—that you were starting to find it difficult to keep him at arm's length at times. He was just… so good. So inherently kind to anyone without expecting anything in return. It’s one of the things you liked about him. A paragon of all things good in the world. Not that you would ever admit it to his face, though perhaps you softening up was enough for anyone to figure out where you stood.

“Wish you weren’t used to it, though.” You said with a sad smile, kicking your legs up to lay them across Jeno’s lap. “You have the right to be mad at being gossiped like that.”

“I kind of brought that upon myself.” Jeno snorted with a hand on his nape, following suit and scooting closer to you for more comfort, and so you could fit into his side more. “But enough of that. How was the party, honey?”

He got a light smack on the chest for his cheek, though your own smile betrayed your actions, finding Jeno’s constant hovering kind of sweet. “It was still fun, among other things. My bad for cutting it short and dragging you along.” Jeno waved you off of the guilt and you were really thankful that he wasn’t at all bothered by you calling it a night. “So, the cake?”

With a hand on your ankle, Jeno reached over to pick it up.

There was something funnier about SpongeBob now that you were watching it as an adult. The jokes that flew over your head making much more sense with a fully developed brain were significantly funnier, especially with the buzz the cheap wine you had stocked for future events. Guard down, your muscles relaxing and letting the stress accumulated from tonight wash away with each sip from your glass.

Handing you the bento sized treat, Jeno had the face of an absolute winner when you read what was written in cream frosting on top of the powder blue cake.

“‘I’m sorry for having loud sex’,” you managed to say through your giggles. “Very on the nose, Jeno Lee.”

“I realized that I never really said sorry for that until tonight.”

“And cake was the way to go? I thought the sex was your version of an apology?”

Jeno lifted one shoulder for a lazy shrug. “Everybody loves cake?” And well, he wasn't exactly wrong. You loved cake as the next person on their birthday did, and strangely enough, it felt like such. The word ‘sorry’ got smudged from dipping his finger into the loopy writing and then lifted it towards your mouth.

If it were any other day, you would have snorted and batted Jeno’s hand away in favor of getting a proper mouthful with a dessert fork. However, it could be that time (and Jeno) had worn down that hardass exterior of yours to a certain point that you had no problem giving in without having to argue; circling your fingers around his wrist as your lips parted to indulge him. As expected, it was sweet. Butter cream, you thought as the more your tongue swirled around Jeno’s finger, watching his eyes grow wide and his mouth slacken, the sweeter it tasted.

“Good?” Jeno asked, voice strained as he continued to watch you work your mouth almost the same way you would when you would give his cock the same treatment. He kind of looked like he wanted to eat you. Savor you, actually, like you were a piece of honeyed heaven Jeno had the privilege of having you melt all over his tongue and swallow your very essence until the last drop. It gave you a rush, to say the least. Not to mention an ego-boost when a man this gorgeous could be so gone just for you.

In the background, Squidward cried out, ‘oh no! He’s hot!’

“Mhm,” you hummed, letting his finger go with a lewd pop before sticking your tongue out to show that there was nothing of the creamy icing left. And to fluster him, mostly, and it worked. “Wanna try?”

’loud sex’ was the next to get smudged, leaving ‘I’m for having’ still intact which didn’t really make any sense at face value. Though taking a quick sweep of the current situation, you weren’t too far off from Jeno ‘having’ you.

Jeno wasn’t able to give a proper answer, much less a word, as you mirrored what he had done without letting him have a proper taste. He did, however, get a taste of your growing impatience; wiping the dollop of icing onto his bottom lip, hooking a finger down his bottom teeth and tugging lower, and then prying his mouth wide enough to slither your tongue in for a downright messy kiss, making him groan. Jeno tasted of sugar, cream and the mint of his toothpaste. You wanted more. You needed more.

So it’s not entirely your fault that you were fast to give in to your carnal desires and how lucky you were that Jeno was there to meet you half-way.

Ten minutes later, Jeno wrestled you down on the couch, mumbling, “I thought you were tired?” into your hot, wet pussy.

“Oh, I am,” you moaned, twisting your fingers into his mussed up hair as he worked two of his thick fingers into you alongside his tongue. “But I can’t really fall asleep like thi—is—shit—Jeno! Fuck!”

A pleased hum had you shuddering as the softness of your thighs squeezed around Jeno’s insistent head. He pulled back the second your insides squeezed his fingers and you let out a frustrated groan. There’s a lazy grin on his face, lower face damp with a nasty cocktail of spit and your slick and never had you seen a man look so damn proud of being messy. Then again, you’ve noticed a pattern whenever you guys fucked; Jeno liked dragging it out to the point it was messy, so that checked out.

“Sure you can.” You would kill for an orgasm right now. Maybe sitting on his face would do the trick. If you could overpower the musclehead. “You wanna test how many times I can make you cum ‘til you pass out?”

A tempting offer, sure, just so you could prove him wrong, but the need to cum easily swayed your decision. That could be discussed and experimented on next time. You told him that much with a slight threatening edge to your tone, all the while canting your hips as you pushed his head down to get on with it. Though it seemed like Jeno was in a particularly stubborn mood tonight.

“Any reason why you’re being such an asshole?” you groused, still actively trying with all your might to suffocate him with your pussy, but he still wouldn’t budge. “I want to cum. Make me cum.”

“Oh, I know you do.” Jeno’s fingers were still buried in your wet heat, his cheek resting against your inner thigh. “But that depends on what you’re willing to do for me.”

Your pout deepened. “You used to be so nice.”

Jeno hummed, not necessarily agreeing or disagreeing. “I’m not hearing any offers.”

“A blowjob.”

“Oh c’mon, we both know you can do better than a blowjob,” he teased. “Besides, your gag reflex is almost non-existent—which, you’re welcome, by the way—where’s the fun in that?” And Jeno looked pretty smug about the changes he had trained into you.

“Two blowjobs,” you muttered, cheeks flaming hot because he wasn't exactly saying shit just to be funny.

The first time you got in between his thighs to suck his dick as thanks for the handful of times he ate the fuck out of you had been a disaster that if Jeno hadn’t stopped you from forcing yourself to swallow more of him, you would have ruptured your esophagus. In short, you had never been so mortified in your twenty-or-so years of living, ever, until that very day. Though the miscalculation was easily fixed after some time, gradually earning back your ‘pro-cocksucker’ title, from Jeno’s gentle, yet firm, guidance.

You really couldn’t believe this was your life sometimes. Or the fact that the absence of muscle memory almost got you killed.

“Do you wanna cum or not?”

“I’ll—“ you swallowed thickly as he curled his fingers, and then let out a soft, broken moan when his thumb worked slow circles around your clit. “I’ll ride you.”

Jeno visibly deflated as if he hadn’t been reduced to a desperate whining thing whenever you bounced on it like the many times before. “Any other offers?”

“What is this?” you groaned. The thing that got you the most was how casually Jeno spoke as if seeing you in this state; rendering you into putty wasn’t affecting him at all. “An auction for me to cum?” Well, there was one last trump card you had saved when time calls for desperate measures.

“Going once.” Jeno wiggled his eyebrows with a stupid grin. “twice—”

“Fine! I’ll ride you raw.”

Jeno, who was about to dip in for a kiss, froze, then let out an aborted laugh. “I didn’t say ��give me a heart attack’. Jeez, it’s never delicate with you, huh? Always straight to the point.” You did become a different entity when you wantsomething, so he was somewhat right.

He took a good look at you just in case you were pulling his leg, which you understood, considering you were adamant with the usage of condoms even on birth-control. The fact that you laid still was enough of a clue-in that you were serious. Your roommate seemed to understand this and nodded, lowering himself to plant a quick and tender kiss above your eyebrow.

“Deal.”

And went lower and lower, buried his face deep into where you fingers tangled in his hair guided him towards and ate you out until the fruits of Jeno’s incessant mouth saturated his face all the way down to his neck.

“Our poor couch,” you laughed, breathless and hyperaware of the wet warmth dribbling out of your cunt; a lewd mixture of his cum and your slick sliding down Jeno’s thighs and effectively widening the stain’s circumference previously left before you had swung a shaky leg over his lap to act on your end of the deal.

“Definitely seen way too many things.” Jeno, who had his head resting on the top of the couch’s cushions huffed in amusement, lifted one eye open to indicate he had been listening. “It’s your turn to pay for steam-cleaning.”

It was such an unfunny sentence. An instant boner-killer if you were in the middle of fucking, yet the sluggish delivery had you laughing, loud and unrestrained, tucking your face into the crook of his neck to smother your giggles.

Aside from it being another inside joke birthed from conning him into paying for the first ever one, it did eventually become a once or twice a month’s occurrence when you didn’t bother moving the sex to somewhere more private like, let’s say, either of your bedrooms. Actions came with their own sets of consequences, yet you always found room to find humor in them. Embarrassing as they may be.

“At this point we should just buy a new one, don’t you think?” you wondered as you withdrew from your makeshift hiding place and pulled him in for a quick, but lingering kiss. It wasn’t enough for him, it looked like, chasing after your lips. Jeno didn’t get too far, with you playfully yanking him back by the hair to smile cheekily at him. “I’m starting to think you like dirtying our couch. Marking your territory, puppy?”

Jeno stayed quiet, but the reddening of his cheeks was very telling.

“Oh my God.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Listen—“

“Puppy—oh my goodness—that’s really precious,” you cooed, the same way Jaemin would if his end-goal was to annoy someone to the point they would consider inflicting bodily harm. “Maybe Hyuck was onto something.”

“Do not talk about another man while I’m inside you,” Jeno whined. “You’re horrible. Get off me. I don’t like you right now.”

“I said it was precious.” He didn’t even have the heart to reject a quick peck on the lips. “I think it’s cute—that you look like Dozy.”

Despite the clear displeasure, his response to your nails scratching at his scalp was almost instantaneous; he relaxed, sagging against the cushions to bask in the undivided attention you showered him with. He could very much fall asleep like this; your warm weight making him sink into the soft clutches of the sofa with your magic fingers weaving all of the stress out of him.

Which meant you wanted something, if you were being nicer than what Jeno was usually used to.

“You want something,” he voiced the thought, squeezing your hips. “What is it?”

And there it was: a smile that said you were about to get what you want. “I was being serious about a new couch.”

Jeno let his head fall back once more, pretty eyes slipping closed as he let out a puff of breath. “Okay. We’ll get a new one.”

The couch came less than two weeks later.

You weren’t religious by any means, but you sent your silent gratitude to God anyway for blessing your eyes with the wonderful view of your roommate studying the manual with eyebrows knit together in concentration and a matching sweet pout.

“You are so sexy to me right now,” you said from where you sat on the floor.

The TV was on, but neither of you were paying attention to the happenings of a show that had caught both your attention when you sourced the internet for any TV show recommendations. This one looked promising; action packed gore with an interesting enough story-line (Jeno’s words) and the rugged machismo of the drool-worthy male main character supporting it (your words), yet those factors weren’t enough to keep your attention span from waning when Jeno—less rugged, but still so devastatingly gorgeous—was about to assemble your new couch.

He responded in kind with a snort and a half-hearted roll of his eyes. “We both know damn well you’re only saying that because I paid for the entire thing.” A hand made its way to perch on his hip too and your greedy eyes drank in the way his muscles rippled from the movement.

You gnawed on the knuckle of your forefinger. Good lord.

In hindsight, Jeno was half right. Sweet-talking him could increase the chances of you running scot-free of doing any heavy work, and maybe Donghyuck had hit the nail on the head with the whole thing about stability being what you needed because what was more attractive than a man readily dropping that much money for a couch without thinking twice? Looking absolutely darling swathed in pastel blue sheets you convinced him to get, deep in a fervent search for a good replacement with his personal laptop perched above his thighs, and with you tucked into his side as a pretty accessory that would occasionally voice opinions.

For someone who didn’t sound too enthusiastic searching the world wide web for furniture, he sure was hell-bent on countering any of your sales pitch every time your eyes would land on a probable couch replacement. The heavy debate—for a fucking couch, of all things—lasted almost two hours, both of you at your wits end until you found one that ticked every requirement that had been brought up; namely, how the L-shape design granted much more space and how easy it would be to clean by yourselves.

There was a thoughtful pull to Jeno’s face as he cycled through the available colors. “Please tell me that’s the one.”

Jeno had made an affirmative noise. “Can you hand me my debit card?”

You had beamed and hopped to it, smugly handing him the piece of plastic with a haughty cross of your arms.

“I did offer to split the cost,” you countered good-naturedly, resting your chin on top of your folded arms and watching on in appraisal as Jeno got to work. “And offered to pay extra to get some people to assemble it for us but—”

“I can do it myself, thank you very much,” he grumbled, seemingly put off by the thought of you having to watch strangers with the same intensity as he was experiencing now. It puts a smile on your face. A smug little thing because nothing brightens your day than getting underneath Jeno’s skin when you could. A sulky Jeno, you’ve come to find out, was possibly the cutest gift to mankind since puppies and kittens and exploiting the otherwise infrequent possessive streak he claimed to not have was honestly gratifying when he could have anyone and everyone.

“Yeah? Your muscles aren’t just for show?”

He shot you a bland look. “You have first-hand experience, don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” you feigned thinking it over, tapping your chin with a finger. “Maybe I need a reminder. Care for a hands-on demonstration?”

Jeno shook his head with a soft grin. “Later. Think you could sit pretty without being a distraction until I’m done?”

The offhanded compliment left a warm glow to unfurl within your chest. From there, it spread to just about everywhere. Your cheeks, for one as Jeno just had the knack for flustering you, fizzling out to pleasant tingles reaching the ends of your toes and fingers. You were quite possibly losing it and yet Jeno has shifted his attention, completely honing in on fixing up the couch before sundown if and if you spare him of being a—his distraction.

“I’ll try,” you relented in almost a whisper. Jeno heard, of course, nodding slowly in response and once you were sure that was that, you rushed to the kitchen to whip something up for you both and shake off whatever that was.

Jeno took no time at all to get it all set up and it was a wonder why the manual when it was pretty straight forward, but you have your couch and you didn’t waste any time to settle down with Jeno for your early evening dinner.

Things promptly escalated the moment your plates were wiped clean. From your pawing at Jeno’s face, still wound up from the whole handyman thing, to unanimously deciding that you should probably take this to the bedroom. To whose bedroom became sort of a guessing game. Not one of you was entirely aware when it was important, but really, who was counting when it would always lead to sex anyway?

On a similar note, It was a miracle by itself that your combined bodily fluids hadn’t turned your old couch into a biohazard. The old thing has been through the wringer since you and Mark had bought it off of Craigslist with your first paycheck and retiring the old girl was just the right thing to do.

Bumping into things along the way, clothes ripped off in haste, like a hurricane tore through the hallway and your bedroom; as rushed as it all was, the sex was surprisingly on the more tender side of things tonight, which wasn’t uncommon, though those ‘tender’ times were mostly rooted from lazy morning sex; but it wasn’t quite that either. Jeno still fucked like he means it, that won’t ever change. Always precise with his movements wherein you would often joke inside your head that the Mathematics nerd in him probably calculated everything in his head, maximizing the output of pleasure jolting through your veins. Shit like that.

Your enjoyment, comfort, pleasure above everything else—that’s what sex was like with Jeno and granted, he got off from you getting off.

Well, most of the time.

Jeno didn’t give any warning when he rolled the both of you over, forcing a gasp out of you from the feeling of his cock plunging deeper and nudging against the spot that sent a hot flash of pleasure up your spine.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I like you on top.”

“Oh, I bet.” You gripped around his girth like a vice, earning you a grunt and a hiss as the flesh of your hips dimple under the force of his long fingers. “You like having me do all the work?”

“I like—I like looking at you,” he admitted, breathless and face stricken with awe as he gazed upon you. Rough hands smoothed down from your hips to your ass then to your tensed thighs and encouraged you to take what you want with light measured strokes. “You’re even more beautiful like this.” Jeno’s breath hitched when you rocked back and forth, his breathing becoming more and more uneven with each sway of your hips.

“Drives me crazy sometimes. That you’re real. That you’re mine.”

The sincerity in his tone wasn’t anything new. How he looked saying that though… It’s something else entirely. There must be something in the air, perhaps due to the change of season as the temperature slowly climbed its way down to the negatives. You glimpsed outside the window and sure enough, flurries of white were making their floaty decent. The first snow fall of the year. Normally, you would be in a rush to get up close and personal, feel the biting cold of each snowflake kiss your cheeks.

By the looks of it, however, you don’t suppose you’d be able to get up any time soon. Not when Jeno’s strained grip on the gentle dips of your waist anchored you in place.

Mine.

You should be used to it. You’ve lost count of the times you would catch Jeno staring and if it were any other time, he would have ducked his head, pink in the face and embarrassed by the habit. That was the last thing he was in this moment, the foreign glean nestled within the depths of his rich gaze held no semblance to his would-be bashful state when he openly marveled at you.

Jeno was no stranger to seeing you bare of anything. He’s probably seen you naked more than you were clothed and yet his half-lidded eyes bore into your skin as if he was stripping each layer, trying his damnedest in finding a crack to slip under and see what you kept from anyone. It scared you, in a way that you wouldn’t really mind if he flayed you open and carved a space for himself in between your ribs, right next to you beating heart.

You were hot all over. Well, hotter than you were prior and stickier. Whether it was due to the nuisance you bedded on the regular showing that all control was reigned by Jeno still—feet planted on the bed, meeting each and every downstroke with increased intensity by his a heavy-handed guidance, showing you how he liked it—or having the very same man as a singular audience, but with a gaze as imposing as a crowd deep in the reverence of their worship. So intimate that the hair at the back of your neck rose at Jeno’s easy smile—sweet. Sickeningly so. All too consuming—and how easy it was for him to look at you like that.

It was too much.

You felt impossibly bare than you were in the moment, vulnerable under Jeno’s searching eyes that you started to shake, and a whimper, bordering on a sob, broke free from your tightly clamped mouth as your resolve gradually broke down. Fortunately, Jeno didn’t think too deeply on the matter, taking it as you simply wrung out from burning most of your energy (and desperate to cum) as he sat up just as you were about to fall forward. He gathered you in his arms and flipped you both over, making sure you landed gently and minding your head, no matter how plush the pillows were.

That brought forth another rush of feelings making it harder to breathe as your roommate settled with a paced rhythm. Slow, deep, purposeful where, for a second, you started to believe your insides would have to mold around the shape of his cock, where it left Jeno to be the only one capable of filling you to the brim. There was a tell-tale sting beneath your eyelids. You couldn’t even remember squeezing your eyes shut, but you were glad for the knee-jerk response kicking in. The stinging was felt in your nose too, and you were all choked up the next second when you met Jeno’s heady gaze.

You had to thank the heavens that timing was on your side for once, because at one pointed roll of Jeno’s pelvis you came crashing down with a shrill cry. Tears streamed hotly down the sides of your face as you let out a wet moan, crushing your nose into the crook of his neck while his movements gradually went from measured to frantic as he pulled you impossibly close to him, and fucked you to completion.

There was someone calling after you. Jeno sounded so far away until the gentle pats on your cheek reeled you back. It took a few seconds for you to refocus your vision the moment you opened your eyes. Catching your attention first was the concerned furrow of your roommate’s eyebrows, down to his eyes rounded with the same emotion, the corners of his mouth pulled taut.

He said your name again. “Are you okay?” Jeno asked with his hands cupping your cheeks as the pads of his thumbs wiped the remnants of the salty tracks beneath your eyes away. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, definitely not hurt,” you croaked, snorting softly at the dubious look on his face. “Just… overwhelmed.”

“Is that good or bad?”

Your answer was quick. “Good.” Jeno was unconvinced by the looks of it, but you reassured him when you covered one of his hands with yours. “Trust me, I’m a nurse. I would know if you did hurt me.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

That got Jeno to chuckle, the tension visibly leaving his broad shoulders as he sighed. “Yeah, okay. You’re totally fine if you’re talking like that.” He bent down to press his lips to your eyebrow for a few seconds before he sat right back up. “Right, I’ll be right back. Want something to drink? Eat?”

The warmth Jeno’s touch provided stayed even when pulling his hands away. “Just water’s fine, thank you.”

Jeno left the room after making himself half-decent, pulling up a pair of clean boxer briefs, leaving you alone to will your frantic heartbeat into slowing down as you curled around his pillow, pulling it close to your chest.

“...he’s one of my more interesting patients so far. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought that damn phone of his was an extension of his arm.”

So far so good. Jeno hadn’t questioned you once about the moment you had and went about the usual post-sex groove of aftercare and clean up. That at least helped you out of that weird headspace you were in and you weren’t as keyed up as you were while you told Jeno about an interesting week you had at the hospital.

A college senior who had sustained a collapsed lung from a multiple-vehicle collision. While the case itself wasn’t interesting considering you had scrubbed in to deal with cases similar to the twenty-two-year-old’s, the patient himself was. Normally, you weren’t one to prolong any conversation with inpatients, though you supposed his weaponized cuteness was effective enough that the Hippocratic oath had been momentarily forgotten as he expanded on what he had overheard from the Nurse’s Station right outside his room.

At the end of the day, he was still a stranger and the most intimate interaction you’ve had with him was cleaning his stitches, changing his dressings and reminding him of his care plan. Even then, he had no place in your personal life where you’d mull over the consequences of telling him. Once Dr. Kim gave him the clear to go home, you probably won’t see him again.

“I only gave him your first name, but he already found you on Instagram.” You burrowed yourself further under the thick covers. “He said he ‘approved’ of you. Whatever that means.” With a giggle, you shifted so you laid on your side and came face to face with Jeno already looking at you with those eyes of his, the same way he did when he had you bent over the coffee table.

Your heart stuttered for a moment, gracing him with a wry smile. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jeno, perpetually pretty no matter the situation, and confused, batted his eyelashes—on purpose or not, you weren’t too sure—full lips jutting out further into a pout. “Like what?”

“Like—” Like that. Like I’m everything. Jeno, for as long as you’ve known him, had this sense of wonder in him. Maybe that was the reason why his eyes, more often than not, lingered for what was considered socially acceptable, yet you couldn’t get why you were always the subject of his fascination, nor why you deserved such gentleness from a guy like him. You’ve always thought he would be much better off with someone who’s less of a hardass; someone good, someone—anyone who didn’t share the ugly parts of you that were ‘too much’ to handle.

“Just—” I just don’t get it. I don’t think I want to get it. “I’m going to gouge your eyes out.”

He closed his eyes, exasperated. “Do not do that? Maybe?”

“No promises,” you said blithely, turning your back to him and baffled, wondering why your face—out of nowhere—felt so hot to the touch, why your heart raced. Why now of all times? Pillow talk wasn’t anything new. Sharing the bed was a regular happenstance. It was normal. This was normal, but why were you acting like a total school girl about it?

All the niggling thoughts came to a screeching halt at the feeling of Jeno’s arm going over your middle to pull you in, letting out an involuntary sigh as you melted into the warmth of his embrace.

“Goodnight,” he said, trailing off in a hushed tone at the syllables of your name.

Eyes squeezed shut, you let out a deep breath. “Goodnight, Jeno.”

Pleased by your response, Jeno crowded impossibly closer until he was flush against your back, pressing his lips to your nape and relaxed after. His hand settled over the curve of your breast, the tips of his fingers splayed where it tapers flat and where your heartbeat was as its strongest. And If he could tell the difference between the gentle thumping of sixty beats per minute from what was considered abnormal, he didn’t bring it up and instead tucked his bent knees right behind yours.

Yeah. Totally normal.

Sleep evaded you, finding yourself awake in the dredges of the night unlike Jeno, who was off in the deepest end of slumber.

You didn’t know why or how you were awake. For as long as you were alive, nightmares were never a problem. Your dreams were on the weirder side, yes, but they never shocked you into lucidity. You didn’t have the need to pee, drink or have a quick whatever-the-fuck-time-is-it snack. You just were, unlike Jeno who had it easy, knocking out cold fifteen minutes tops no problem. Though dead asleep—even breaths with the slow rise and fall of his chest, laying flat on his back—it’s like Jeno can’t help but still face you, like you just had this magnetic pull that attracted each and every atom housing Jeno’s attention.

He looked so peaceful. It’s almost unfair he was still gorgeous in this state, mouth open and all. Handsome face void of anything that would sour the appeal which wasn’t possible. It’s as if he simply wasn’t allowed to be ugly, wasn’t allowed to lack in areas he was known for, wasn’t allowed to be less than perfect. A burden, weighing on yourself more than it did Jeno, you had resigned to when you couldn’t find it in yourself to come up with things to complain about.

Jeno existed and you were fine with it. Jeno, stubborn but meant well Jeno, found plenty of ways of integrating himself in your space and you were fine with it. Each second, each minute and each hour, Jeno was there and somehow, you didn’t think it was enough. Even as the hours stretched out into days, weeks. Months. Would it be so bad if Jeno was there—here with you for years to come?

Then it hit you all at once—like a shock to your heart, granting you with a clarity so startling that you looked at Jeno. Like, really took him in as much as you were able to in the dim glow of the full moon filtering through the sheer curtains.

Since when did wanting absolutely nothing to do with Jeno evolved into wanting him all to yourself? You couldn’t put the entire blame on him. Sleeping with Jeno (and regularly at that) was a risk you were very familiar with. No thanks to your gargantuan AO3 history when fan-fiction was the only thing that kept you going through the grueling college experience. Friends-with-benefits had been a filter staple that guessing which outcome you’d get became sort of a game. Some good, some bad and some were so emotionally devastating that you swiped back and pretended pain never existed.

Now that you wore the shoes of every FWB protagonist, you weren’t too sure of what the endgame could be. You could admit that you went in blind with the false pretense of it being a temporary set-up when either of you grew bored of each other. But the months had bled from one to the other and it was still you and Jeno, and whatever flat surface there was left to defile.

From the gentle sweep of his eyelashes, the bridge of his strong nose, the perpetual pout of his lips with sharp angles and soft contours framing all of that—that right there was a face you wouldn’t hate waking up to in the mornings to come. Better if those mornings weren’t just the aftermath of a wild night, but nights where one of you would grow tired from finishing a few episodes of a gory thriller before eleven PM. Nights where one of you would stay up waiting for the other to get back from overtime. Or nights where you simply would spend hours just laying in bed all warm and cuddled up before sleep inevitably took you.

And as you laid on your side, eyes boring into Jeno’s sleeping face, hoping that you get the good ending out of this messy start, you knew you were absolutely truly and well fucked.

VI.

“If you stay the night, you could change my mind.”

You were five seconds away from killing yourself.

You’ve been here before. More times than you would have preferred, if you had to be honest, where Mark and yourself would set up camp on the island counter. A large plate of something to snack on (cookies this time) doubling as a conversation buffer and keeping Mark occupied while you’d do most of the talking.

Not a word has been said. Not a peep. Zero. Nada. Zilch. Mark’s unease with your unusual silence was made apparent by his treacherous balancing on two of the wooden barstool’s legs. Truly a perfect example why women lived longer than men.

Something was up. For one, you were tight-lipped, which wasn’t a good sign. Mark’s head would have been done in with your longwinded tangents right about now; where words would have lost their meaning as he eventually tuned you out. Which, sure, whatever. You always got straight to the point anyway and he only greenlights the ranting as it was a way for you to blow off some steam, no matter if it was the third time you’ve complained how impossible it was to unglue Jeno from his computer to eat.

Mark didn’t need to think too long about the possibilities. He got his answer right as the front door opened.

“Hey, Mark.”

Though he wasn’t at all prepared for the awkward as fuck silence. One could imagine Mark’s surprise when you didn’t spare your roommate the acknowledgement as you pointedly kept your attention on the plate of chocolate chip cookies.

Jeno sounded pleasant enough, yet you went stiff when he shuffled into the kitchen, grabbing himself a bottle of kombucha. The side-eye you got from Mark was diabolical, yet he returned Jeno’s greeting with his usual brightness as if to assure him that nothing was amiss. Both men left it at that and Jeno quickly disappeared behind his door with a click, letting you relax.

You flinched when Mark did a full body turn so fast that it could rival the speed of light, his eyes widened in disbelief.

“Dude, what the hell did you do?”

“What makes you think I did something?”

Mark’s gaze turned sharp and stared at you like you were stupid. Maybe you were. No, you definitely were, with all things considered. “Jeno ignored you,” he hissed. “He’s never that petty. Donghyuck treats pissing him off like an olympic sport and you’ve never seen Jeno lose his cool. He’d let you know if you’re pushing it.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because Jeno could just punch the shit out of you. Have you seen him?”

“Jeno’s hot bod has nothing to do with this—and stop changing the subject!” Mark snapped, swiping a cookie from the tray, took a bite and jabbed the remaining half in your direction accusingly with a muffled: “something happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“That’s exactly what people say when something has happened,” Mark quipped, crumbs flying out of his mouth. “I bet you did something.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“And if I stab you with this cookie?”

“Do it, you won’t,” you challenged. “You can’t. Because it’s a fucking cookie.”

His gaze narrowed and for a second, you believed he’d figured out a way to weaponize a food of all things.

“You’re giving me gray hairs here,” he popped half of the sweet treat into his mouth instead, biting down with an audible crunch. “Why’d you call me over anyway?”

“Because of that,” you said with a resigned sigh, pointing to the direction of Jeno’s room. “And I called for your girlfriend, actually—y’know, for a change, but you showed up instead, so.”

“Oh.” Mark blinked, shoulders relaxing. “well, she’s out at the moment. Took Ziggy to her grooming appointment so she sent me.” She sent me, he said like he was simply there to carry out her responsibilities when she couldn’t, no questions asked. Which, yeah, maybe—but not exactly. Mark was just game for anything (more when his girlfriend is involved), though it brought you great relief that he loved her that much to potentially be an extension of herself. Jealousy would be the death of you one day.

That’s not to say you were happy by the circumstances. You were expecting girl-time, and here you were given a man that was considered a stand-in during your bi-weekly Girls’ Night. Close enough.

Momentary panic crossed his face when you let a grimace slip through. “Try me! I’m wise enough.”

You scoffed. “Your wisdom is about the size of a grain.”

“And yet I’m the one in a stable relationship,” he pressed. “I think I’m qualified to tell you things.”

“Fuck you,” you groused. Because he was right, and nothing grinds your gears more than Mark Lee being right while dangling his picture-perfect love life right in front of your face.

You were well acquainted with the intricacies of Murphy’s Law: anything that can go wrong will go wrong, and the start of your downfall happened a few mornings after the earth-shattering realization that you had not only desired Jeno carnally, but also desired him… not-so-platonically. You felt sick to your stomach just thinking about it. Or maybe those were butterflies partying it up in your guts because they obviously were still you in some way: ridiculously enamored by a gorgeous man.

The morning had been a quiet affair. Quieter than usual, is what you could describe the chilly start of your Saturday. Quieter than what you were used to even with the groggy aftermath of last night, though you were sufficiently energized for the regularly scheduled back-and-forth before the stillness fell in place again, with the exception of the range hood sucking up all the smoke from what sizzled on the pan.

It was your day-off and Jeno still had the luxury of whether or not he’d go to the office unless necessary. From the lackadaisical slump to his frame, you figured he had all the time in the world today.

“Isn’t this mine?” Words came first and actions followed with Jeno’s arms winding loosely around your waist, one of his hands tugging at the hem of his hoodie you pulled out from his wardrobe, his chin hooked over your shoulder.

You woke up freezing that day and the weather application had said to bundle up, so you ended up clawing through his clothes since you did end up falling asleep in his room. It just so happened his hoodie was the first thing you had blindly grabbed in haste. Your feet were quick to get cold, so you made the detour to your room for your thickest and fluffiest pair of socks. Sure the look of the herringbone flooring was nice, but lord did it almost freeze your toes off.

Jeno simply hummed when you told him so, lingered for a moment, then left you to do your thing with a gentle pat to your tummy and started on both your coffees.

“What? No tea for me?” You mused when he took two mugs out from the cupboard, one of them being your favorite one, and plucked out two pods from the stack of them, no teabag in sight. “I thought you were trying to wean me off of coffee?”

“I’m feeling generous today,” he said with a teasing lilt and left it at that, and you knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Your stomach grumbled as the last of the modest spread of food was placed on the dining table, wincing at the terrible screech the chair made when you scooted closer. Sweetened medium roast hits your nostrils, your favorite coffee mug emitting a dull ‘thunk’ when Jeno placed it right beside your hand.

“You made it just how I like it,” you said after a tentative sip, lips pressed against the mug’s rim.

Jeno snorted softly as he reached for the maple syrup. “You notice that now? Were the coffees I made for you each morning different from that one?” He nodded towards your cup.

“No. I guess I never really had the time to think about it,” you admitted, sheepish. “I don’t remember showing you how, either.”

“You didn’t have to,” Jeno shrugged, feeding himself a forkful of the fluffy scrambled eggs. He hummed in delight. Just how he liked it. “I watched you make it a few times, it’s really not that complicated.”

You often rushed through mornings at home to judge whether or not the morning coffee on the counter was up to taste. The ratio between bitter and sweet? Who has the time when you’ve got to get to the hospital before you do your rounds? Still, you had a window of a few minutes to notice how Jeno had waited each time for you to get a few sips in before transferring your coffee into a thermos to take on your way out. You don’t remember getting a thermos. One in your favorite color either. Christ, were you having a goddamn meltdown at the dining table?

“You’re always rushing in the morning,” Jeno explained and proved once again that he was quite the observer. “‘figured I’d make your mornings a bit more convenient.”

And there it was: the convenience of it all.

While, yes, work had left you exhausted like never before, it also had been a small act of mercy that had kept you distracted and away from the demons that were waiting to be acknowledged. Those demons being anything in relation to the current predicament you were facing: Jeno. Your shifts at the hospital had been draining enough as it was that there was never any free time to think about anything.

Statistics had kept its annual consistency in seeing a significant increase in casualties the closer it got to the most wonderful time of the year. People in a perpetual state of haste in hopes of getting everything in order before the holidays. You might as well find a permanent place in the trauma department from the amount of overtime you did that your brain had been stuck in work mode until the patient influx had dwindled down.

Sure, you’ve managed to survive what could be considered the hospital’s Annual Armageddon, but there was no way in hell were you going to survive the horrors that await: being alone with your thoughts.

This was where Jeno came in. Like a stream, your thoughts of him were continuous. They ebbed and flowed and it seemed there was no end to it. On some days, they would roll around in your head, or go round and around as a microwave would; heat up or explode; whichever would be better to your state of mind. The point was, despite wanting that part of your brain—the one responsible for filtering any Jeno-related thoughts—to stop thinking, you couldn’t. You could not stop daydreaming, could not stop the ‘what if’s’—what if this (whatever this is) could become something more?

Convenience was what led you to this point.

The convenience of Jeno being at the right place and the right time. Of him taking the very first step and dragging you into something that was supposed to be casual, no-strings-attached and nothing more. This entire thing was supposed to be just a convenience to you. Jeno was supposed to be a convenience to you; in a way he’d be there if you needed help, he’d be there to fuck when you wanted, be there for—well, being there, when you needed him to be and keep you company. But…

But.

As the days blended to the next, it—he became so much more than that.

Wanting more than what you already have has never been your style. One could give you a hand and you’d justify why grasping onto one or two fingers was more than enough. Perhaps it had something to do with how you were raised, at least, that’s what you had thought because as you sat across Jeno, ignorant of being the very cause of your tumultuous state of mind, greed reared its ugly head.

It rose up your throat—that thick, all-consuming feeling of wanting something so much to the point of insanity. What should have been casual evolved into something more than what you bargained for, but you knew enough that there was nothing casual about not just wanting the convenience that came with Jeno. Nothing casual about wanting more than being another meager notch on Jeno’s bedpost. You wanted him—body, mind, soul and heart. And it’s not as if developing feelings wasn’t allowed. It was never brought up in the months the friends-with-benefits thing went on, sure, but it still felt… wrong.

Here you were, a handful of seconds away from baring your bleeding heart to him, only to pause when another thought occurred to you.

Did Jeno even want the same things you did?

No.

Definitely not.

You had no business asking about the other girls he could be seeing, but it was made clear Jeno was fully committed to follow the lifestyle of a Casanova. Being tied down wasn’t likely part of his plans as of the moment. More or less, you were probably just a phase he was slowly trying to get out and you wouldn’t be the one forcing him into settling down. Even so, it still hurts, that you will never be anything more than just a friend he gets to fuck on the regular.

And admitting that was a blow to your chest, really—like it caved in on itself, the jagged pieces of your rib cage piercing your heart. You had no idea how to make it less painful as you shot a longing look in your roommate’s direction who remained oblivious to your internal war against yourself and your feelings.

That day was seared into the recesses of your brain. How Jeno looked when you had told him this couldn't go on any longer, that you should stop, all the while being in the comfort of his embrace while you washed the dishes.

Your hands went rigid under the stream of water from the tap as Jeno stiffened behind you. Slowly you turned around in place, only for a wounded noise to lodge itself in your throat at the stricken look on his face. Confused, lost… hurt? Maybe? No, that wasn’t it. Disappointed was more apt, losing another conquest could do that to a guy, you think, could do that to you, if you were being honest; losing something that could have been good for you.

“Why?” he croaked.

“It—It just doesn’t feel right anymore.”

In a sense that sleeping with him while harboring so much warmth and fondness for a man so gentle and kind felt like you were taking advantage of him: that if you couldn’t have his heart, then his body would be the balm to soothe the burn reality left you with. You felt so much for Jeno Lee, but you knew you deserved better than this, that you were more than a placeholder for the person who would get the opportunity of a lifetime having him wholly, and he deserved better than unknowingly taking part in your desire-fueled fantasies of domesticity.

Sweet Christ, look at you. There must be something wrong with your brain if the synapse of neurons made you sound like some no-name poet from the Romantic Period. Or maybe you were ovulating, but that was neither here nor there.

The silence made you want to crawl out of your skin. You’ve never known a silence so uncomfortable and that was saying something when Mom raised hell the morning after she had opened the door to your childhood bedroom and found you with a boy. She was eerily silent after Dad had told you a less than flowery rendition of ‘The Birds and The Bees’, and from then on, you’ve learned to never piss off Mom—or ask Dad to explain in that clinical way of his.

Things should have returned to their normal state now that casual sex was off the table; how they should have been if you weren’t the least bit attracted to your roommate, or if you knew better than to let lust cloud your better judgement. With how life has been treating you lately, it won’t ever be that simple. Not when lines were crossed over and over again.

“We’re okay, right?” You had asked Jeno one day. Just for the hell of it. The answer was pretty fucking obvious when he sat at the farthest end of the couch, putting as much distance as he could.

It took a moment or two for your ex-fuck-buddy to answer in that gruff way of his when the last thing he wanted to do in this moment was make small-talk with the girl that cramped his style which, okay. Fair enough. You wouldn’t want to talk to yourself either.

“Yeah,” he said, looking straight ahead and his face drawn into a careful mask of neutral. “why wouldn’t we be?”

Because you won’t look at me. You don’t want to be near me, like I carry the fucking plague, or you pretend that I’m not there even though I caught you glancing at me loads of times. Show me something else besides indifference. Because it’s like I’ve done something wrong, but I don’t know what it is. You won’t tell me. I don’t think you ever will, and it’s killing me. That I can’t even make things right.

There was a lot you wanted to say. You wanted to argue, never mind if all he had for you was eyes full of disdain as his voice, normally even and soft-spoken, rose and rose until it became a screaming match. At least then Jeno wouldn’t shut you out, if it meant trading peace for barbed conversations that would be uncomfortable at best because you’ve never experienced a silence so cold, and made apparent by the space between you.

You wouldn’t expect anything less when you took away Jeno’s blinding smiles. Always filled with warmth, it was proven hard to live without once you’ve gotten a taste, what it was like on the receiving end of his affections he had so easily given. Though you knew the sun would, at some point, take its blinding light somewhere else.

Shit pretty much hit the fan after that, and you’ve accepted that the not-so-but-still silent treatment was well deserved. Didn’t mean you had to like it because this was getting ridiculous.

It was like the world was out to get you for your unwarranted fuck-up. You thought Annual Armageddon was bad? Try another wave of that—double the amount of patients to the point you were forced to spend several nights camping in one of the designated on-call rooms.

Your peers had taken notice of your tank in mood, which wasn’t exactly a problem. Your work performance was still exceptional and up to the hospital’s standards, However, interns, residents, and attendings couldn’t really say the same. Not when they’ve taken the brunt of your less than stellar attitude. The interns especially, which you thought was necessary. If you want competent people running a hospital, instilling the fear of God in them would do the trick.

However, that did not go without consequences.

Karmic retribution had been quick to get your ass handed to you in the form of a grumpy geriatric who had lashed out after you told him he couldn’t be discharged just yet. He was still recovering from a hip replacement and wouldn’t be able to leave for a week at least; or if he made quick progress with physical therapy. The old man ripped you a new one even with the absence of your abrasiveness.

Needless to say, after quietly excusing yourself, you hid in the floor’s storage unit and cried.

As if that wasn’t enough, you almost cost Chenle his budding trauma surgeon career after an error that almost had his patient coding. He reassured you it was fine, that you were okay after the apologies spilled from your lips once the clock stopped, but you knew he was taking this harder than you were, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. Understandable. It was Chenle’s first ever solo surgery with Dr. Qian’s supervision and you almost fucked it up for him.

You had also hid and cried, a common theme these days.

All because you were still preoccupied with the awkward situation at home (if you can still call the apartment that), still hurt that you were back to square one with your roommate who refused to step foot into the same room as you.

“You were right,” you ground out as you untied the surgical mask. There were specs of blood on your O.R issued scrubs and a damp and warm spot somewhere along the hem of your pants that you refused to acknowledge until you were in the showers.

It had been one rough case after another; this particular one with Sungchan had the team searching for the source of the bleeding longer than it usually took. It left you tired and in dire need of a scalding shower. You wanted to go home and forget the antiseptic smell of the O.R with the hint of iron that had squirted onto anyone that had stood close to the sterile field.

“With what?” Sungchan was just a harrowed, looking a little less put together being the one who held the suction as you helped Dr. Jung patch up the rupture.

“You know what.” The whole casual sex thing biting me back in the ass? But you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of reminding him.

Sungchan blinked, then squinted, tilting his head. “No I don’t, actually.”

The metal bin makes a clang as you roughly shoved inside the single-use gown and gloves. You stood to your full height, looked him dead in the eyes and repeated gravely: “you were right,” and started walking, leaving him there staring at your back, wildly confused.

“With what?!”

This was definitely some form of punishment. It had to be. It’s no coincidence that it started right when Jeno decided to minimize any sort of contact and it wasn’t as if you tried to gain back what you once had before you decided top open your big fat mouth and said ‘hey, maybe we should stop fucking around and act like normal housemates!’. You really did, offering home-cooked meals as an olive branch, placing orders for his favorite snacks on rotation, doing his laundry. Folding them too without being told to—stuff like that. You even venmo’ed him half of what he spent for the couch.

If he had a hand in making the smaller inconveniences of life easier, might as well do the same for him too.

It did something. Sort of melted the icy wall he put up, low enough where clipped conversations were had at least. Still, your roommate had still kept his distance, not to mention his smile wasn’t quite the same. You hadn’t expected him to take it that hard and for a moment, you thought that perhaps there was a chance that he may also—no way. You immediately bat that train of thought away. He probably just missed the idea of having a warm body within his reach.

Which was a funny possibility when you missed him. Just as much, definitely more than just his body which was surprisingly easy to admit. You really never learn to value something once you’ve carelessly let it slip it through your fingers—until it was too late, and fuck do you miss Jeno. Having him close in a way; in the kitchen, dancing around each other as either breakfast, lunch dinner heats away on the stove. Doing the separating of whites, blacks, greys and color for laundry when your schedules align. Recuperating on the couch after a long day, preferably, with your head on Jeno’s lap while he ran nimble fingers through your hair.

You missed the easy companionship solidified by living together and you were so fucking scared that you might lose that too.

It took some time getting used to, walking into a quiet apartment again. No six foot something tall man with puppy eyes’ head popping up from the couch with a smile so warm you wouldn’t know what the cold felt like balls deep into the winter season.

The apartment was warm though, the thermostat set at a desired toasty temperature matching the warm glow of the accent lights as you padded deeper into the clean space. Not a thing was out of place. Cleaner, definitely, judging by the neatly arranged cushions on the couch and a throw blanket you had picked out with him tastefully draped over the arm rest. Jeno’s doing, no doubt.

Walking into the kitchen got your stomach rumbling, reminding you of how hungry you were. The last thing you ate was a haphazardly put together turkey sandwich you had made in a rush that morning, along with your coveted coffee in a thermos, which—you’ve just realized—had never stopped coming. Each and every morning on days where you had work, they waited to be taken along without fail. Meaning there was still a chance of whatever there was left to pick up from this mess you’ve made.

But coffee, though tempting, wasn’t what you needed right now, nor did you think it would stop your tummy’s incessant growling. Exhausted as you were, you were determined to whip up something quick yet filling. Like a vegetable omelet, or something, with a few slices of sour bread toast. There was still a tub of kimchi Mark’s mom had asked (well, demanded) him to give you. Yeah, your mouth was already watering at the thought of a hot, home cooked meal.

Your backpack falls heavily onto one of the dining chairs, an aran-knit cardigan you wore under your padded coat slung over behind it. You reached for the sky to stretch. Damn, you’d kill for another hot shower, but food first, then you could wash away the weight from today and hopefully knock right out into a dreamless sleep.

Halfway towards the refrigerator was where you noticed it, one singular thing off about the otherwise spotless kitchen: the lone saucepan sitting on top of one of the burners. It’s the one you used when you had three or more people coming over for dinner. You were no stranger finding Jeno playing chef in the kitchen considering he had more time on his hands where his work had a more sporadically built schedule. A heartwarming end to your day, truly, coming home to—well, a home. One you have steadily built with him.

There was soft tofu stew in the covered saucepan, the metal still warm to the touch. As if Jeno just knew the exact minute you would be home to kill the fire and give it enough time to cool down a little so you could eat without burning your mouth. You turned ravenous on days like this and he knew. Jeno knew—knows you like the back of his hand at this point. Even when he wasn’t obligated to know the little details of your person.

As you sat right beside your work bag, you took a tiny sip of the red broth. It’s good as expected, you’ve never dared to expect anything less when it came to Jeno’s competence in the kitchen. The blunt edge of your spoon cuts the tofu seamlessly in half, a pleasant surprise. Jeno preferred tofu that was firmer, yet he made sure to incorporate your preferences.

It was two bites in when the preceding sting of your eyes and nose came. Tears soon blurred your vision, and then you were full on crying into your hearty serving of soft tofu stew. Why wouldn’t you? When the man who acted like he wanted nothing to do with you still went out of his way to look after you, keep you in his thoughts when he should have left you alone.

You hurt him after all, but Jeno had always been a conscientious bastard, always putting you first—above everyone else. No matter if you were the world’s biggest asshole to him.

It’s odd; being back in your room after another sobbing session in your bathroom (because god forbid a woman let out all those pent up emotions). There was no overzealous puppy in human form to greet you, or hover around while you were left to your own devices before you were eventually pulled into bed, a heavy, warm weight pressing you into the sheets.

Your bed felt bigger than it actually was. Emptier despite the handful of pillows you had. The thermostat remained untouched, yet you felt colder without anyone taking the extra space beside you and you had already switched to a thicker duvet for the season. Maybe you were going crazy for real this time.

And because you were nothing but consistent, tears had once again lined your eyes, until you had drifted off to sleep with a deep ache settling itself between your ribs. Wishing that upon waking up, you’d be in the past—before you had fucked it all up just for the sake of self-preservation.

In retrospect, maybe that had been selfish on your part: shutting something down before it even started because you were afraid of getting your heart torn right out of your chest and stomped on right in front of you. If things had gone your way, you wouldn’t have woken up still in the present day feeling like absolute shit, wouldn't have called in sick to your unit manager and charge nurse, and wouldn't have then begged for Mark’s girlfriend (now Mark himself. Who had his day off) to come over and talk you through your dilemma.

Fucking hell. Feelings were hard.

You were a shell of a woman after saying your piece. “He won’t even talk to me—won’t even tell me what I did wrong,” you said quietly. “I guess I thought I was doing the right thing. Ending things before it gets too messy. I mean, I don’t want to hold him back, y’know? Finding the right girl for him ‘cause she sure ain’t me.”

“Well, you did make the decision for him without even sitting him down to talk about—about what again?”

“Were you even listening?” you whined, “I got into an F-W-B arrangement with him even if I knew the risks and I developed feelings for him anyway.” You lay your cheek on the cold surface of the island counter to look even more pitiful in Mark’s eyes, who seemed rather pensive. “Seriously, where the fuck did you find Jeno? And why am I kinda crazy about him.” ‘Kinda’ was definitely underselling it, but it was funny to you anyway, chuckling to yourself.

Mark? Not so much. It did, however, snap him out of whatever subdued spell he was in. “Wait, huh?”

“What?” You sat up straight yourself, perplexed by the odd reaction. “What do you mean by that ‘huh’?”

“Waitwaitwait—lemme run by that again—” He sounded a little frazzled. “You were fucking casually on the side, then you fell in love—”

Your cheeks warmed. “Developed feelings—”

Mark gave you a look. “Fell in love with him—same fuckin’ thing, man—and you feel shitty about it and ended things? Is that right?”

“That’s the gist of it, yeah.”

The both of you ended in a staring contest. Until Mark broke the streak when he pressed his lips together and got that look you hated so much on his face.

You groaned. “Mark.”

“What?” he said, copying your whiny tone.

“I don’t like that look.” You squinted at him as he pointed to himself in ‘who? Me?’ gesture, widening his eyes for that full faux innocent look. “Like you know something I’m supposed to know too, but you aren’t telling me because you secretly get off on that momentary superiority complex you get when you know more than I do and will definitely use it against me.”

“Well, yes.” Mark was so smug about it too.

“I graduated with better grades than you, F-Y-I.” You countered, knowing it had nothing to do with anything, but you said it anyway to make yourself feel better under your best friend’s gloating.

The annoyance melted away eventually and you were left slumped against the counter, your chin resting on top of your folded arms as you pouted in silence. You could feel Mark’s beady eyes boring into your side profile, so you were forced to talk.

“What should I do, Mark?”

“You know what I think?”

“No. That’s why I’m asking you.”

Mark reached over to pinch your cheek, laughing softly when you swatted at him. “I think you should do the adult thing and talk to him about it.”

“I’ve tried,” you mumbled. He shot you a blank look, aware of your tendency to avoid anything that involves talking. You know, by running away, but that was the old you and dealing with a grudge-filed Jeno wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. “I’ve tried!” you repeated, indignant this time. “but Jeno’s… slippery.”

A shit-eating grin slipped onto his face. The exact one a thirteen-year-old would get making unprompted dick jokes. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes. “How am I supposed to talk to someone who’s just as good as running away?”

“By force?” He answered rather quickly, like it was obvious. “You’ve always been good at cornering people.”

As if it could be that easy. Your roommate could be just as stubborn when he wanted to be. Like a fucking boulder that was on all fronts impossible to move by sheer willpower alone. Though you still let the thought marinate for exactly fifteen minutes since Mark had left you with a mysterious smile you had half the mind swipe away with a punch before slamming the door in his face: fifteen minutes when you heard a muffled yell come from Jeno’s room.

Well, that’s a sign if you’ve ever heard one. You just hoped he wasn’t violently jerking off. That yell sounded guttural, barging into his room while getting intimate with one (or both) of his hands did not sound like a good start to as possible heart to heart. Depends on Jeno, really. Or you, if you did manage to corner him, though something told you that you might. If you chose your words correctly,

Jeno hadn’t been whacking it, thankfully. The loud sounds he had been making during your ten seconds walk to his bedroom were out of frustration directed at the small pool of guys he was playing League with. You immediately recognized the frazzled yells of Donghyuck. Jaemin’s hyena-like cackles whenever he witnessed someone dying. You hear Chenle antagonizing Donghyuck for sport and a surprising addition to the circus was Jisung trying to corral everyone into actually working together. It didn’t work. You swore it just got louder if that was even possible.

You took a moment to lean against the door frame to watch the chaos on Jeno’s end. You get an eyeful of him. Like really took him in his natural state because it genuinely felt like you haven’t seen him and his face in a hot minute. The tight black tank-top, loose sweatpants, mussed up hair—you had to bite your tongue from making any pathetic noise.

“You voice chat with them on speaker?”

Evidently, Jeno had not expected for you to barge in, startling him so bad at the sound of your voice that he bumped his knee quite hard against the table with a loud exclamation of ‘fuck!’. The gaming chair squeaked when he spun around to scowl at you. Whether it was from scaring the living shit out of him, disturbing his time with the boys, or seeing you, the cause of his biggest disappointment, you probably deserved it either way.

“Why? Are you gonna complain how loud I am again?” Oh wow. He really did not like you right now. That wasn’t going to stop you though. You were going to have that talk whether your roommate liked it or not. And possible broken hearts be damned.

“No, I just—can we talk?”

Jeno arched an eyebrow, looking from his monitor then to you. “I’m busy. If that wasn’t obvious.”

My God, is he being difficult, you thought, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I doubt playing LoL with the morons is more important than what I have to talk to you about,” you said dryly.

“Did you just call us ‘morons’?” Chenle.

“Oh, and one of them’s deaf too.”

“Do we have to..?” Jeno has this sort of pained look on his face and could not quite meet your narrowed gaze.

“Wait—holy shit. Are you guys fighting?” Came the crackle of Jaemin’s grating voice, sounding way too happy.

“Mommy and Daddy are fighting,” Chenle sang in a stupid tune which immediately got a snippy ‘go fuck yourself, Chenle’ from Daddy.

“Is this why Jeno’s been a sulky shit for the past few weeks?” Donghyuck asked through his obnoxious giggling. “What’d you do, Samoyed?”

“You should be asking her that.” The samoyed in question grumbled, swiveling towards his monitor as the guys (minus Jisung) whooped and hollered at his snipe. “Can we continue? Please?” His tone turned desperate at the last word. If it were any other day, you would have taken pity, but it was clear he was using fucking League of Legends as an escape and you were too keyed up to let Jeno have this one.

“Oh no you don’t, motherfucker.”

Jeno barely had his hand hovered over the curved surface of his mouse when he was violently spun around with all the strength you had. The hollering increased tenfold, a chorus of men asking what the fuck was going on adding fuel to the fire pushing your roommate by the chair’s arms until it hits the edge of his desk hard enough that it rattled.

The incredulous twist to Jeno’s face went ignored along with the excited yells of grown ass men begging to be part of this ‘lovers spat’ as you clambered onto your roommate’s lap. The chair creaked when you leaned forward, reaching behind Jeno for the keyboard and paid no mind to his muffled exclaim of surprise. So what if your breasts were right in his face? He was well acquainted with them. He had no room to act like a blushing virgin.

“What—what are you doing?”

“Are we getting a show?” Donghyuck asked, excited, followed by the rest of them pressing to get exactly that.

“Hell no.” Your fingers pressed down on a combination of keys. “I’m turning this thing off. Goodbye.”

The whirring cooling fans of Jeno’s coveted CPU died along with your friends’ protests of sticking around longer and promises of keeping quiet after you had forced closed all applications after a few mouse clicks and shut down the computer. Once you were sure everything was off, you sat up straight and forced him to look at you with your fingers grasping his chin.

“We should talk.”

“I figured.” Jeno’s shoulders slumped with a resigned sigh, though he didn’t make any move to pull away from your touch. “Don’t you want to sit on the bed? Y’know, keep a normal distance between us?”

“Jeno, nothing about us is normal. Hasn’t been since that first kiss.”

He hummed, those brown pools of his glazing over as his cheeks pinked at the memory. “That’s fair. You sure you’re comfortable like that?”

“Just a precaution.” You shrugged. “I don’t want you running off. Which reminds me—” You let go of his chin in favor of leaning back and folding your arms above your chest. “What the fuck was that about? Avoiding me? I thought we were okay?”

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say when Jeno’s face hardened and wrenched his chin from your grasp.

“Okay?” His disbelief has your eyebrows rising. “It was that easy for you, huh?” You were surprised he hasn’t thrown you off his lap yet. Jeno seemed to contemplate the idea as a series of emotions passed over his face. In the end, he settled on leaning back with a creak, mirroring your crossed arms and looking everything but pleased. “No. We’re not okay. Why the fuck did you think I’d be okay after you told me you wanted nothing to do with me?”

“Technically, that’s not what I said—“

“I know what you said. I was there.” That was a joke. A very dry one at that and if this were any other situation, you would have laughed. “Doesn’t mean it hurts any less. We were doing good. We were happy and I thought you might’ve—” He shook his head.“I just don’t get why you called it quits.” Well, at least the urge to laugh was gone. You felt like absolute garbage. Jeno looked so tired, staring resolutely at the print of your shirt.

“Believe me when I say I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you said gently, reaching out to brush your fingers against Jeno’s that were nestled in the crook of his elbow. “I thought I was doing the right thing—and you were right, we were happy. It was the happiest I’ve ever been and… and—I’m going to sound so stupid—but I got scared. Everything was good, yeah, too good. Perfect even, and that scared me.” When you heard nothing from Jeno, you took that as a prompt for you to continue, keeping your gaze set on his fingers you fiddled with.

“This was supposed to be just sex, y’know? But the longer it went on, the more I started to want more than that and it’s honestly driving me crazy,” you say, laughing softly to yourself. “You just had to be kind. You just had to be the sweetest fucking person I know and I guess I’m not as immune as I thought I would be when it comes to you.” You swallowed thickly. “And I can’t stand the fact that all I’m ever gonna be is your roommate you sleep with.”

Your heart pounded in your ears. Laying yourself bare had never been easy. The vulnerability that came with admitting you’ve grown to care for Jeno outside the limits friendship entailed. Granted you didn’t explicitly pour your heart out, but your roommate was smarter than people would give him credit for so chances are, Jeno understood you perfectly. From the tremble in your voice, to the raw desperation in your words… you just hoped that whatever happens, you won’t lose his friendship.

Jeno stayed mum. You didn’t think he was breathing either and you were steadily growing worried because said anything for the past minute. Was he gearing to shove you off his lap like you had assumed? Get you comfortable first and then catch you by surprise? Alarmed by the likelihood of that happening, you steeled yourself as you lifted your head up.

And you were met with the most peculiar sight: Jeno red in the face.

“Oh my God,” he said, mortified and caught his face with both hands. The tips of his ears were tinged in a bright red too.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled with a heavy heart. Of course he didn’t feel the same. “It’s literally my own fault that I caught feelings—”

“No no. Don't ever be sorry for that.” He made a noise muffled by both of his hands, dragging them down his face. Jeno was less red now, though he was still flushed, not knowing what to do with his hands until they settled awkwardly folded on his abdomen. “It’s just—this is really embarrassing.”

“We can pretend this never happened—” He cuts you off, saying your name.

“This is embarrassing because I thought you broke up with me.”

What?

“I broke up with you,” you clarified, all racing emotions coming to a screeching halt as you stared blankly into the distance.

The short laugh Jeno lets out was almost hysterical. “Yeah. I thought we were dating.”

“Dating? Since when?”

Jeno tilted his head. “The first and last time we had sex in my car. Because someone was scared of getting caught.”

“Well, I’m not exactly an exhibitionist, damn.” Now it was your turn for your face to flame up. That’s what he meant? “And you said you wanted to be ‘exclusive’! Not that you wanted me as your girlfriend!”

Jeno blinked in that cute way of his. “Is that not what being exclusive means?”

“Jeno, we hooked up in your car when you asked me that. At my job of all places. Who in their right mind would think you wanted to be my boyfriend? I literally thought you meant you wanted to fuck just me and no other girl. No-strings attached—that type of shit.”

“Well, no,” Obviously. His eyes seemed to say. “Wait. Was that why you kept making jokes of me still sleeping around?”

You winced with a reluctant nod. “uh—you can’t blame me for assuming since you look…” you made a vague gesture towards his face. “Like that.”

“You can say I’m hot," Jeno teased, smiling wryly. "It’s okay. I won’t get a big head or anything…”

“Too late, Megamind.” You scowled, then pursed your lips in contemplation. “Wait—holy shit… so that’s what Mark meant.”

Jeno blinked. “Meant what?”

“He said he gave us his blessing when we were at their housewarming party.” The knowing looks, the gentle pride gleaming from his eyes when you caught him staring at you and Jeno standing side-by-side at the party. “Oh my God. Did everyone else think that?” The girls losing their minds when you got up to make your way towards Jeno… Jaemin’s ever-present teasing dialed up to eleven once Jeno had let it slip through their phone call. “Why didn’t you say anything? Didn’t you find it weird that I wasn’t, like, referring to you as my boyfriend?”

Jeno’s lips parted into a darling ‘o’, then formed into a sheepish smile when you raised an eyebrow. “I just thought you were shy—that you wanted to keep our relationship private until you were ready to hard launch me on Instagram, or something like that.”

You wanted to kick yourself. “You’re literally too nice for your own good, what the fuck.” Jeno shrugged and you had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. You were dating this man without even knowing, apparently and here you were, dealing with your feelings like an angsty teenager. This is the most ridiculous case of miscommunication you’ve dealt with so far. “And the things you’ve been doing for me… the morning coffees, the sometimes lunches you’d leave with Jimin. Taking and picking me up to and from work when you could. The couch… Everything, basically… that wasn’t just you being nice?”

“It was me trying to make up for being the world’s shittiest roommate at first, but yes, that’s also me being your boyfriend, I’m sure,” he confirmed with a solemn nod, eyes twinkling as he finally relaxed in his chair. “Should I bring you a flower every time I do? Y’know, as a reminder, that yes. I’m doing this as your boyfriend.”

“As your boyfriend,” you repeated, smiling bashfully at his use of present-tense. “Are you done giving me the silent treatment, then? Because that sucked. Every time I looked at the couch you bought for us, I got this urge to cry.”

“I’m venmo-ing your money back, by the way.” Jeno was sure of himself now, his big hands feeling at him with their hold on your hips. “Are you going to admit you like me enough to consider me as your boyfriend?”

“I like you more than I should, actually,” you admitted and that was said without any conflicting feelings this time. Proudly too, in fact and the smile on your roommate-turned-fuck-buddy-turned-boyfriend was so worth it. “You’re really hard to resist.”

“I can say the same for you.” Your hips got a firm squeeze from him, making you shiver in delight. You really missed this—missed him and the giddy rush you would get whenever he said something just as sweet. “One more embarrassing thing.”

“Yeah?” You leaned forward, hands trailing tracing up his chest, the skin left exposed by his skin-fit tank top until he let out a hum, smiling coyly when your nails scratched languid lines at his nape. “Tell me anyway.”

“I fell in love the moment I saw you.”

You snorted. “Right. And that’s coming from someone who had many girls over and kept me up.”

“In my defense, I was convinced you were unreachable.”

“You could’ve just said I’m a bitch and called it a day.”

“No—no. It’s not about that, and you had the right to be. What I’m saying is that Mark was kind of an overseller.” Oh yeah. You sure had your own experiences with that. “Like, he made it sound like you were this girl who would never give me the time of the day, y’know? And before I took a leap and—and kissed you that day, I got too in my head that I won’t have a chance—I give you full permission to call me an idiot—and here we are.”

“So you weren’t fucking other girls, then. When we were sleeping together.”

“Nah, I was too busy thinking you were my girlfriend. I’m a slut, not a cheater.”

“Quote of the year,” you teased, smirking at his embarrassment. “Then that's old news. I don’t give a fuck, but really?” Jeno looked very pleased with himself, precious blush and all from admitting that he had been shooting heart eyes in your direction since the very early stages of your lives when you barely had taken root in each other’s. “Even when I was the biggest bitch of the east?”

“Especially when you were a bitch.” He emphasized his point by sliding one of his hands to the small of your back and pushing you close as the limited space his chair would allow you. “I really wasn’t lying when I said you’re cute when you’re angry. Really turns me on.”

“I think you just like me bossing you around, don’t you?” The slow blink you were rewarded with when giving his hair an experimental tug said it all. It pulled out a soft sound of amusement from you, pressing your foreheads together as your palms curved over his cheeks. “Your taste in women is horrendous, Jeno Lee.”

That made him smile, leaning into your touch. “I think you’re perfect, actually.” The warm puffs of his breath ghosting against your parted lips made them tingle and Jeno closed the distance with a kiss so sweet, so full of longing that you could honestly cry.

Was it possible to go a little stir crazy from not getting to kiss the man for weeks? Because you honestly felt like it, with Jeno being the sole source for your fix. You missed this. You missed him, having Jeno this close. You saw no point in rushing this as you pressed deeper, running your fingers through his soft hair just as your boyfriend (boyfriend!) crowds you further into him by wrapping one secure arm around your waist. His other hand cupped the back of your neck, leaving you to melt into his touch.

“On the contrary,” you took a big gulp of air just as Jeno took to pressing as many kisses as he could down your neck. “I’m kind of a mess,” you said, granting him a rueful smile when he withdrew with his eyebrows knitted together. “And a lot to deal with. Are you sure you want this?”

“You hated me at first. The big idiot who didn’t know when enough was enough, and yet you still gave me a chance anyway. Fuck knows why, but hell am I glad you did. The whole Casanova thing would have been a turn off for anybody, but you’re still here.”

“I’ve seen you change overtime. You’ve never been the same guy since then and I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that you might want to give this long term thing a shot. I couldn't care less if you ran through every woman in our area.”

“And I couldn't care less if there are days where you’ll be difficult. I’m in love with you—” You’ve never thought your name in the same sentence as ‘love’ would give you this much warmth. “I love you. Good days, bad days—doesn’t mean a thing when I’ll be with you during those days. And it’s all I ever want. So long as you’ll have me.”

And my goodness do you hold so much fondness for him. All those things that he did, all those things that he had said so far… it really made you want to put that much faith in him. He made it so easy when he was this determined and sincere and you really didn’t care if the start of this was all backwards.

“I really, really like you, Jeno Lee,” you whispered as if the moment would be ruined if you said it any louder. Whispered as if Jeno was the only one allowed to hear it. “Please trust me when I say I do. This—this is new to me, so I’m a little overwhelmed—look.” You took his hand and placed it above your beating heart. “There’s probably going to be a bruise there from how hard it's beating.”

“Oh, physical confirmation. I like that.”

You laughed, taking his hand to press the palm of it to your cheek. “It really was torture when I had to temporarily put us on hold. I was so used to you being there and… yeah.”

“Trust me when I say it felt like my world just collapsed when you broke up with me.”

“Eh… does it really count when one of us didn’t know that we were dating?”

“I suppose not.” Jeno reached up to kiss your cheek, your nose and then your lips. “We’re both stupid, I guess.”

“And you're sure you still want this?”

"You're all I've ever wanted."

Jeno pulled you down for another searing kiss full on intention, and you knew just then he’d be here with you. On the good days and the bad, in this apartment that started it all for a long time.

Jeno: hey Jeno: just wanna say thanks

Mark Lee: for what lol

Jeno: for linking me with your best friend Jeno: didn’t think you’d set me up to be her roommate tho Jeno: but that’s killing two birds with one stone ig so thanks anyway Jeno: I owe you my life

Mark Lee: it’s whatever dude Mark Lee: only you would fall in love with the girl who puked on your shoes for your meet-cute 😆

Jeno: listennn Jeno: she said she loved me and cuddled with me all night after i cleaned her up sat her down Jeno: but it didn’t look like she remembered me or that night at all

Mark Lee: dude  Mark Lee: she was shitfaced at a club

Jeno: she could have remembered my face :/

Mark Lee: it was dark as hell 😐 Mark Lee: get a grip man Mark Lee: n she tends to not remember anything after THAT many tequila shots Mark Lee: i am curious tho what made her think you guys were just fucking and not dating lmfao Mark Lee: like what did you say 😭😭

Jeno: im blocking you.

END.

a/n: AND WE'RE DONE!!! LET'S ALL LIVE!!!! as always, special thanks to Aria, Aeriel and Moon for letting me scream and cry about how this fic was ruining my life and for lending a hand when it comes to forming ideas! I probably wouldn't have finished this piece of work if it weren't for them cheering me on and I am truly grateful to have them and their support i love you guys 🥹🩷🩷 and I'd also like to thank to wonderful people who had read this fic from start to finish! you deserve a cookie 🍪

TAGLIST: @jaylaxies @hoondrop @justalildumpling @dammit-jjk @learnthisfeeling @90s-belladonna @rjreins @pinknjm @kshynj @dorkyji @notevenheretbh1 @everytimeicrymytearsdonteverdry @iscocohere @seulkikiii @wintahh @peachesmilk @rxnexxi @rum-gone-why @bluedbliss @tiramisubox @jinxxdreamz @minkyuncutie @txnml @yawnzshit @suhwife @carelessshootanonymous @sanctify-mp3 @haechansbbg @dreamiestay @ryuvrsie @derywinkle @byungbyungbaek @surrealxox @jenoleeaesthetic @dreamy-carat @weiweific @focusonyeri (much thanks you guys who had expressed interest and asked to be part of the taglist!)

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

half return.

synopsis : katsuki’s decides to go home for the weekend, he invites you to come with him.

an. I'M BACK ! yall it’s been a while since ive written a full lil fic and this has been itw for a lil bit so i hope yall enjoy ! requests are still otw ! but i figured I’d write a little something to celebrate mha ending :(( tysm mha you will forever be my most beloved animanga in the whole world..BUT ANYWAY SAD STUFF ASIDE yall know i had to bring back my childhood friends to lovers on em,,cmon NOWW ITS JUST MY FAV TROPE YALL 🤧🤧🤧🤧 Anyways, i hope yall enjoy, much luv xxx

cw. SUPER childhood friends to lovers (MY BIG ONE), MHA MANGA SPOILERS (post war and katsuki in rehab !), kissing and being in lubbb bleurghh, soft suki, sleeping in the same bed, mitsuki and katsuki lol, masaru being a sweetie, cooking, lemme know if i missed sum else <33 !!

“i’m goin’ back home for the weekend.”

these are the first words spoken in a couple of minutes. you were content with sitting in katsuki’s dorm room back at the height alliance, simply sitting in the same space doing your own thing. things slowly taking back their normal course despite you all still having a lot of work to do.

you look up from your phone to look at katsuki who’s eyes have not drifted from his. “oh yeah ? that sounds nice.” you smile, you’re sure his parents must want nothing more than to spend time with their son who saved the world. and you think secretly, he wants to go home too.

he grunts in response, continuing to scroll through his feed. and after a pause he adds “hag asked if you wanted to come with.”

you blink at him, it has been a while since you’ve properly spent time with katsuki’s parents. the last times you did it was when they came to visit you in the hospital to wish you well and offer you some sweets, not exactly the most joyous of occasions, but you loved seeing them either way.

you blink up at him, “are you sure that’d be okay ? i mean, it’s a family thing, no ?”

katsuki shrugs in response “‘s not up to me, she wants to see you so bad.” he glances at you “you gonna say no to her ?” you snicker at his teasing. mitsuki was a sweetheart, but she still intimidated you a little bit since she was a rather..intense woman.

“well i’d hate to disappoint her.” you jest, katsuki snorts, soft smirk pulling at his face as he rolls his eyes. he finally turns to look at you “you don’t have to, i could just tell her you’re busy.” your heart shakes at his subtle reassurance, but you shake your head.

“that’s fine, it’s been a while since i’ve been to your house anyway.” you scooch closer to your boyfriend, laying your head against his chest as he wraps his arm around you immediately. you want to get as close to his heart as possible, wanting to hear even the faintest of sound. to make sure he’s really there with you at times.

katsuki’s hand is warm as he softly rubs up and down your arm, “yeah it has, hasn’t it..” he sighs, and you think he was talking for both of you.

katsuki's house feels no different from when you were a kid.

the house still smells the same, mitsuki always told you that she liked the soft fresh scent she sprayed through the house. she always liked to leave at least one window open because she said it felt too stuffy, a habit that you recognised in your boyfriend, but that was also probably because he ran hotter than most people.

it calmed her, she said, and with how rowdy katsuki was lord knew she needed it. katsuki always complained when his mother would try out new air fresheners, and you remember his distain for a particular strong lavender one. (although you didn't like it much, either.)

the couches are still the same, all the pictures hanging around the house are unchanged as well. pictures of mitsuki and masaru at their wedding, of katsuki getting a big all might figure for christmas, and of you both at your elementary school entrance ceremony. you giggle every time you see it because katsuki's face hasn't changed much aside from it's pudginess. his expression fierce and you could even see how tight he was gripping your hand in the picture. (katsuki doesn't find it as funny as you do.)

katsuki's mom has always been very youthful, her face hasn't changed much from the years you've known her aside from some wrinkles appearing with age, she still looked as gorgeous as ever. you've always thought she was stunning. she greets you just as excitedly as she did when you were six and came over to play. although she can't scoop you up in her arms anymore she still embraces you so tightly, she stills comments on how big you've gotten and how you manage to look prettier every time she sees you, you feel just as warm.

as usual, katsuki is quick to try and drag you to his room as soon as he gets the chance, not before getting an earful from his mother for not responding to her texts and not telling him how he was doing. they quickly get to arguing, like usual. and masaru quickly comes to your aid so you don't have to sit in the middle of the two loud blondes.

his voice is as gentle as you've always known it to be as he asks you if you're okay, if you're starting up school well. his soft tone and the care he has for you makes you feel warm too.

katsuki manages to swiftly get you two out of the living room, stomping up the stairs and mumbling to himself about his damn old hag. you giggle and he turns to glare at you, squeezing your hand hard and scoffing.

you see katsuki visibly slow down the closer you get to his room, his expression visibly more calm than a few moments ago. serene, like he's taking it all in. you squeeze his hand tighter and he squeezes back, you don't think he realises it.

it takes you back too, the sound of your footsteps in your ears reminds you of your socked feet running around the hallway chasing each other, padding softly against the floor when you would try to sneak a cookie late at night 'cus katsuki told you you were too chicken to go. you can almost hear your loud laughter and soft giggles in your ears. you're griping katsuki's hand.

katsuki sighs before opening the door to his room, the window is already open, his mom most definitely did this to greet him back in her own way, he stays quiet about it. you see how he scans around his room like he hadn't been there in years, a lot of stuff he had in here before was sitting in his dorm room now, but it's still his room. black sheets replace his previous one's, the one's that were used to replace his even older all might themed one's. you'd really seen it all, it makes you even more nostalgic.

"hasn't changed much." you hear him mumble, he looks around at the posters on his wall. the look in his eyes is a foreign one, it's a sort of peace you don't see often in him.

"did you expect it to ?" you tease, taking slow steps like you're exploring a museum. his room is no different, it shouldn't be. but you think maybe it's because you're both a bit more different than the last time you've been in here, maybe you've both grown up a bit more. katsuki plops down onto the floor, leaning against his bed, you follow suit.

"guess not," he scoffs, running a hand through his hair. you both sit in silence, your eyes fixed on a poster on his door. it's crinkly and it's a bit torn up around the edges. you lean your head onto katsuki shoulders and inhale, breathing the room in and close your eyes. you feel him wrap his arm around you after a moment. after the experiences you've both had, being able to relax like this with him is more than you could ever ask for. he squeezes your shoulder and you snuggle against him more when he presses his nose to your hairline, pressing a kiss to it shortly after. you feel warm all over again.

you've sat on this floor more times than you could count. laying on you're back as you laughed with your best friend, on your stomach as you read comics together. you'd eat snacks too, but katsuki never liked eating on his bed because he'd get bothered by crumbs, so you were on the floor most often. laying on it too much made your stomach hurt, and you knew your butt would be sore. but you'd go through any pain to be with katsuki, and with everything you'd been through a sore butt was absolutely nothing.

you sit there for longer than you should in a room that hasn't changed, that wasn't left untouched for long. you have memories with every thing inside this room, katsuki still the all might bobble head you'd gotten him as a joke in your room. you see the fake golden first place medal he'd gotten when your elementary school had track races. so much that you've shared with him, so much more you want to share.

right now in his room frozen in time, you feel like you have all the time in the world. it's foolish, but it's nostalgic, and it fills you with hope that everything will be like usual again.

"you're peeling those all wrong."

the sound of slicing stills as you look over at your boyfriend. you tilt your head "i'm not."

"you are, unless you actually want to cut your fingers off." he fights, rolling his eyes. you turn your nose up at him, frowning down at the potato in your hands. it looked good, you knew you were doing good.

"asshole." you grunt, you hear katsuki grunt next to you, the clattering of his own knife cutting carrots (you’re surprised he’s still that good at it despite only having one arm) catches your attention before you feel him press behind you. you stiffen, you try not to let him see the effect he has on you because you know he gets annoying about it.

when you were kids, katsuki always thought it was funny to say you needed him, joking that he was your knight in shining armor because you kept clinging to him, his words not yours. despite it seeming like he was clingier than you.

he places his hand over yours, it’s warm as it cover yours and guides you. you feel your heart pick up when he speaks closer to your ear. "you shouldn't cut towards yourself. and you slice too damn fast," he leans into your shoulder "ease up a bit."

you swallow, your heart beats in your ears "okay. thanks, mr. know it all." you mutter bitterly. katsuki continues to move your hand for you, you don't stop him.

"you should be glad i am, otherwise i would’a let you keep hacking at shit like a maniac." he chuckles.

your throw your head back and groan "ugh, you're so annoying."

you've known it for years. katsuki has been your best friend since you were in diapers and despite how much you love him, you will be the first one to complain about how fucking annoying he is.

even when you were babies. your mom told you that katsuki would take your pacifier and shove it in his own mouth while you wailed helplessly. he'd tug at your hair and poke you in class. you're sure you've called him every name in the book ; a meanie, a big bully, annoying, a jerk, an asshole, a dick head, every mean word you'd learned over the years. it makes you a bit nostalgic, but he's just so irritating.

he huffs, shoving his head into your shoulder. his hand still over yours, and he slowly lowers it into the counter. you drop the knife to turn to blink at him with wide eyes. he keeps his eyes on yours and returns to his earlier position so you don't see this embarrassment covering his cheeks. he wraps his arm around your waist tightly, pressing against you harder making up for the one that can’t. you snort at his antics.

you're sure katsuki will be an irritating know it all for the rest of his life, he's been for as long as you've known him after all. but one thing he always hated was making you upset. he always claimed it irritated him when he went too far and you'd ignore him, but in the few times he made you cry, you always saw how apologetic he looked. how his eyes were just a bit a glossy when he'd tuck his head into your shoulder in shame. he never said sorry often unless his mom forced him too when she caught you two arguing, but you always knew he was with the way he insisted on sharing his snacks with you, how he let you play with the better controller, how if he was feeling really sweet he'd kiss your cheek and look away with a bright red face.

as irritating as he is, you do hope he never changes.

you wish you could stay here for longer, just a bit longer, but you worry one of his parents (most likely his mom) would walk in and see you both. you pat at his arm squeezing it softly "i think i got the hang of it, katsu." you utter softly. he grunts, staying against you for a moment longer before moving away, squeezing your side, to which you squeal in surprise, you see him smirk and he goes back to his own cutting board.

so irritating, you think. yet you bite your lip to hide the smile growing on your face.

“hey, bathroom’s free if you want it.”

katsuki’s still drying his hair with his towel when he pads into the room, his room.

you tear your eyes away from one of his many all might figures, running your fingers across it’s details “oh okay, thanks.” you stretch, arms and all might rising along with you. you hear katsuki scoff and he stomps over, ripping the figure out of your hand.

“be careful with that.” he growls, you giggle apologetically “sorry, sorry..” he rolls his eyes, placing it back neatly on his shelf, posing the arms exactly as he likes them.

what a nerd, you think. you giggle to yourself.

katsuki’s bathroom reminds you of sleepovers. of being sent up to brush your teeth before bed and racing to see which one of you could do it the fastest and get their teeth the cleanest, you both could never agree on it. it reminds you of how much katsuki hated the flavor of the toothpaste and would make such an ugly face when he’d taste it you’d fall over laughing. it reminds you of gargling mouthwash and competing on who could do it the loudest.

katsuki was always the one who started those ridiculous contests and was always the sorest of losers, but you never backed down from his challenges. it made things more fun, he made things more fun.

you’d known this bathroom for your entire life, if the picture book filled with pictures of you and katsuki in the bath together didn’t prove that fact. (though katsuki likes to pretend they don’t exist.)

the kid’s scented shampoo is gone now, the one you’re using doesn’t make as many bubbles as the other one did, and it doesn’t smell as fruity sweet. things change, just like you.

you feel cozy in your pyjama’s. katsuki had insisted you sleep in his room, looking at you like you grew another head when you told him you’d sleep in the guest bedroom. “don’t piss me off, you’re sleeping here.” is all he’d offered you.

and sure, you always have. katsuki hated being separated from you and you from him, so you sleeping in his room was mandatory. but besides on a few occasions, you still haven’t slept with him alone since you were a kid. it’s stupid, but it makes you a bit nervous. it’s stupid, but you hope you don’t look weird while you sleep and you hope to every god you don’t drool.

katsuki looks up at you when you walk through the bedroom door. you smile at him and he jerks his neck to signal you to come in, scooting over to make more space for you. you close the door softly behind you, not wanting to disturb katsuki’s parents you’d already wished goodnight to, you softly pad over to him and he snorts.

“why’re you creepin’ like that ?” he smirks, clearly amused.

“i don’t want to disturb others by stomping around like a behemoth, unlike you.” you sass. katsuki scoffs, glaring at you.

“fuck off,” he snarls “you look stupid. lookin’ like you’re about to steal christmas.”

you gasp, walking over to his bed, and smacking his arm, he barks out a loud laugh and you shove him, he shoves you back with his good arm and you continue to scuffle and poke at the other’s stomach and sides until you push his arms away and scoot back. he huffs proudly, always the arrogant bastard. the sorest of losers.

you make your way to lay down next to him, there’s a bit of a distance though. because you feel petty, but also because it’s strange thinking you’ll fall asleep with him like this willingly. it won’t be accidentally like it happened a few times in his dorm room and you’d begrudgingly go back to your own room. you nervously rub at your legs.

“the fuck’re are you doin’ ?”

“what ?” you huff, trying to mask your embarrassment with annoyance. katsuki only raises a brow.

“yer actin’ fucking weird.” he scowls, you scowl back.

“am not !”

“are too.”

“i’m not doing this with you.” you sigh petulantly, crossing your arms. “i’m just fine.” you hear katsuki scoff next to you.

“sure, weirdo.” your side eye makes him laugh, he leans his shoulder against his headboard “come over here.”

you roll your eyes, but you’re shuffling to his side embarrassingly fast. katsuki leans his head into your neck, pressing a peck there and two to your cheek. which he proceeds to bite once, then leans even more in your space to bite your nose to make you laugh. he grunts at something blocking him from pulling you closer, which ends up being his own arm.

“move that for me, yeah ?” he grumbles, looking down towards his arm. you blink at him before slowly reaching for it. you can tell it wants to flinch with the way the muscles between his thumb and pointer finger tighten and how his breath hitches. he doesn’t stop you when you grab a hold of it. it hangs limply as you draw shapes across it.

“how are you doing here ?” you whisper, he’s close enough to hear you like this. his eyes don’t look away from yours fixed on his hand.

“‘m startin’ to feel it better..an' i can move my arm some, can't move my hand at all though.” he mutters lowly, lidded eyes on you “doc says it’s good progress.”

“that’s good.” you smile, relieved. you’d been a bit worried about katsuki denying a prosthetic but you immediately hated yourself for doubting him. he had his own reasons for refusing it and if he thought he could handle therapy, then that meant he could.

"that's really good."

you trust him, you always have. you trust him with your life, and you’ll trust him when he tells you he’ll always come back to you, even if he scares the shit out of you. you trusted him for trust fall when he promised he would catch you and he did, even if he did scare you. you trusted him on your first day of school when he said he’d keep holding your hand the whole day and when he said he would be your best friend forever.

you’ll trust he’ll be okay, as usual.

“yeah, sure.” he spits, glaring at his arm.

“katsuki..” you sigh, you place a hand against his cheek to get him to look at you. he huffs, face turning to you but his eyes won’t. “it is great progress. especially with what you went through. shit, the doctors thought they’d have to cut it off at first !”

“it still sucks.” he utters bitterly, closing his eyes he inhales, eyes darting towards the end of the room. “it’s—i don’t know—weird, i guess. feels weird as shit knowing you just can’t use your arm anymore when you could your entire life.” the fist he manages to squeeze shut clenches and so does your heart.

you know he’s probably most angry at himself for putting himself in that situation, in his eyes. but he’s a hero in yours. you can’t help but feel for him. his hand that gripped your tightly to ground you, that squeezed your nose for saying dumb shit, even the one that’d pull at your clothes to drag you away.

you’d been with it your whole life, so you can’t even start to imagine how he felt.

“i know,” you start sweetly, he sighs against your hand, eyes still downcast “i mean—i don’t think i’ll ever understand how you feel. but i want you to understand that this is just all part of the process..” his eyes flit up to you as you speak.

“you’re a hero, katsuki.” and you don’t say it like it’s the job he wants. not like it was written on his provisional hero license. you say it like when you were both 5 years old watching tv and katsuki proclaimed loud and proud he wanted to be just like all might, and at ten when he said he’d be even better than him. like when izuku would come over to play and you’d all sing the theme song together.

you say it like it is, his dream.

“and nobody can ever take that away from you, but now your body needs rest. a lot of it.” you continue, nodding to yourself. katsuki softly huffs in amusement in your hand. it’s soft but it’s there and it makes you smile. he looks up at you now.

“and it’s frustrating right now, i’m sure. but you’ll get it. you’ll get there, just give it—give yourself time.” you let go of his hand and press both of your hands against his cheeks now, because you need him to listen. he’s always had this horrible habit of going to the extreme for what he stands for. and though you looked up to him for it, sometimes it was extremely self destructive, and you want him to know he has the time. that he has to give himself time.

he heaves a long sigh, nodding against your skin. he grunts, pressing his mouth to your hand. “mhm,” he responds, and that’s more than enough for you. he grabs your wrist with his good hand, leans in, and kisses you. you meet him halfway like you did when he first kissed you goodnight on your front porch when you were 15. back then, he’d gone beet red and swiftly walked away, hands in his pockets muttering a quick ‘see you’ but he’s gotten more comfortable throughout, way more comfortable. he kisses you easily now, and his cheek still shine pink, but he doesn’t look away, rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

“thanks,” he utters softly. it comes out easily when he used to have a harder time forcing it out before. “i, uh—i’ll get better, wanna hold you properly.” he mumbles, a small pout on his face. you giggle, sure he’s more comfortable now, but he still gets just as easily embarrassed when he has to speak his mind. and that was okay, you’d wait for him, you’ll give him the time he has yet to give himself fully.

“then do your best, yeah ?” you encourage. you kiss his nose and he scrunches it up, but a smile twitches onto his face. “dummy,” he mutters affectionately, leaning in to bite your nose. you laugh, pushing at his chest, and he silences you with a flurry of kisses to your mouth.

he uses his good arm to press you to him and pull you down onto his bed, he grunts when you squeal in surprise, he makes himself comfortable and pulls the covers over you both.

“so damn loud, thought you said you didn’t wanna bother my parents.” he teases, you roll your eyes. your smile is still so ultimately fond of him as years ago, despite how irritating he was, he was still your best friend.

“shush.” is all you offer him, getting more comfortable against him, getting more comfortable with the idea of falling asleep with him like this.

katsuki remains quiet for a few minutes. “hey,” you look up at him and you can see how hard he wills himself not to look away from you.

“love you.”

your eyes widen, you blink. and it’s quiet. katsuki looks around the room “c’mon. say it back, will ya ?” he utters grumpily, tucking his head into your shoulder and his voice bordering on whiny.

“right sorry,” you chuckle “not used to it yet.” you say sweetly.

this was something new, something he told you just recently. that he loved you, that he was too pussy to tell you before because he’d loved you all these years, is what he told you. the thought makes your heart feel warm all over. everything he’s ever done over the years had i love you poured all over it all along, it makes you unbearably giddy.

you love him so much.

so you tell him, “i love you, too. so much.” he shoves his nose harder into your shoulder at your last words and you giggle.

“i’ll keep sayin’ it ‘till you get to used to it. do it forever if i have to.” he mumbles out and you’re giddy, impossibly so, because you can’t wait for forever.

“okay..” you hum.

you think maybe things will never truly go back to how they usually were. the world has changed and so have you, so have you both. and there’s still so much to do, but you want this new normal to come with katsuki, you want your forever with him. you want him to stay your best friend forever like he’d pinky promised you, even though he thought those were girly and stupid, he still promised and katsuki was somebody who never went back on his word.

so you’ll trust him, you’ll trust that he’ll always be yours and that you’ll be together forever. that he’ll tell you he loves you forever, and that you’ll get used to it.

[izzih22]

Would you do a fic where like Azzi is trying to go to sleep with paige and KK and ice are on live and being super loud so paige goes to tell them off

Inside Voice, Outside World

Note: I think I got it…

Azzi was so close to asleep, she could feel herself sinking.

Paige was wrapped around her like a blanket made of sleepy affection—her arm across Azzi’s waist, one leg hooked loosely over her thigh, lips brushing the top of her shoulder every so often, like she just couldn’t help herself. Azzi was curled up, face tucked into Paige’s chest, completely at peace.

Or she would’ve been, if KK and Ice weren’t absolutely screaming on Instagram Live.

Azzi cracked one eye open, groaning quietly.

“You hear that?” she mumbled.

Paige shifted behind her, her voice low and raspy. “Unfortunately.”

“I was literally seconds away from falling asleep.”

“I know, babe.” Paige nuzzled against her again. “I could feel it. You were all melty.”

Azzi smiled, eyes fluttering closed again. “Still am.”

But the second she said that—

“YOOOOO!”

“Chat, did y’all SEE THAT?! That behind-the-back into a stepback? Stop playing with me!”

“KK, play it back—run it back! Lemme turn the mic up—”

The volume doubled. And so did Azzi’s frustration.

Paige let out a slow exhale.

Azzi could feel her body tense slightly, the way her jaw clenched against Azzi’s shoulder. But she didn’t move.

Azzi rolled over slowly so they were face to face. Paige’s eyes were open now, glowing faintly in the dim dorm light, her expression somewhere between sleepy and very over it.

“Don’t go,” Azzi said softly, touching her chest. “It’s not a big deal.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “You’re exhausted.”

Azzi shrugged. “I’ll live.”

“You shouldn’t have to ‘live’ through KK doing her podcast voice at full volume two rooms over.”

Azzi bit back a laugh. “You’re gonna say something, aren’t you.”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She just leaned in, brushed a kiss against Azzi’s forehead, then lingered there.

“I’ll be nice,” she murmured. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout.”

“Nope,” Paige smirked. “But I am your girlfriend. And your personal noise-canceling system, apparently.”

Azzi smiled sleepily, her heart fluttering even though they’d been together forever. She loved this side of Paige—dry, calm, protective without being over-the-top. And always, always in her corner.

She didn’t want her to go. But she knew Paige would handle it.

And she did.

Paige rolled out of bed and padded to the door, her long legs practically silent across the floor. She didn’t bother putting on shoes—just stood there for a second, running a hand through her messy hair, pulling open the door with a slow, deliberate calm.

Azzi listened closely.

She could still hear KK and Ice, the volume lower now but still clearly hype, still clearly Live. There was a bounce of a ball. A too-loud laugh. Ice saying something about her “bag being deep.”

Then a pause.

Then Paige’s voice, low and even.

“Yo.”

Short. No extra words.

Azzi could hear the mood shift.

“Oh—Paige. What’s up?” Ice said quickly, a little too casual.

“You guys are still Live?” Paige asked, like she already knew the answer.

“Uh… yeah,” KK said. “We were just messing around—”

“Yeah, I got that,” Paige said, voice calm but clipped. “It’s just kinda late.”

Azzi smiled into the pillow. Paige wasn’t yelling. Wasn’t being dramatic. Just… Paige. Quiet and firm. That voice that didn’t need to raise volume to set the tone.

“We’re wrapping up anyway,” Ice added quickly.

“Appreciate it,” Paige said simply.

There was another pause.

“Right, yeah. We’ll chill,” KK said, softer this time.

“Thanks,” Paige said, already turning away.

She slipped back into the room like nothing happened.

Azzi watched her, feeling her heart flutter again in that stupid soft way Paige always pulled out of her without trying.

“Handled,” Paige muttered, climbing back into bed. “They’re gonna shut it down.”

Azzi pulled her close immediately, tucking her head into Paige’s neck and pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she murmured.

“I didn’t,” Paige said, clearly not amused. “But I did.”

Azzi hummed. “You’re cute when you’re subtle.”

“I’m always subtle,” Paige said, mocking offense. “I am the queen of chill.”

Azzi laughed. “Mmm… okay.”

They settled again, Paige’s arms looping back around her waist. The silence was blissful. Azzi could already feel her body giving into sleep again, safe and warm and held.

Paige kissed the top of her head.

“I didn’t like that they were interrupting your peace.”

Azzi smiled.

“You’re very dramatic in a very quiet way.”

“Exactly,” Paige mumbled into her hair. “It’s my brand.”

Azzi yawned. “I love your brand.”

Paige’s arms squeezed around her gently.

“Love you too.”

[laiiaaa]

Carmy with a stressed cranky gf getting her degree and he’s just so good to her ughhhhhhh (so self-indulgent)

“Carmen, could you—could you just, fuckin’—…watch where you’re going?”

He freezes where he took a misstep, leaving your laptop’s charger dangling near the floor after accidentally unplugging it. A simple little thing, a dumb mistake made while caught up in something else mentally. A matter of a charger extended beyond its comfortable reach. It’d be fixed in seconds, but you weren’t having it.

A confused look washes over him. “I-I’m sorry, baby—” He knows you’re in one of those moods—he always knows—and lowers to pick up the cord. “Lemme plug it back in for you—”

“Or you could just not walk right into it,” you snap, fingers tapping away at your keyboard, face illuminated in a blueish hue from the screen.

“Hey.” He perks right back up after fixing the charger, but you don’t look back at him. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t start that w’me, c’mon.” He comes a little closer, perched at the end of the couch right beside you. “You’re in a mood.”

“I’m not.” You definitely are.

“Baby.” Instinctively, his hand comes to rub your shoulder, his thumb presses just a little firmer along the crook of your neck. “Take a break for the night.”

“I need to finish up with this—”

“‘M not asking.” He gives you that look, with his hands extended to silently demand you hand over your computer. “It’s a Friday night. C’mon.”

You pout, and you huff, and you give him those eyes that tell him you don’t want to, but you save your document and hand it over anyway, quickly curling into the end of the couch and not making a move when he sits next to you.

“You mad at me?” he asks, looping his arm over your shoulder, a little hurt when you don’t melt into his touch like you usually do.

You keep your eyes glued to the wall, not paying him any mind. “No.”

“Then why’re you always workin’, huh?” He squeezes you a little tighter, bringing you deeper into his embrace as he cups your jaw—with those firm, strong hands of his that somehow always have you pliant—and turns you to look up at him. “Every time I come home you’re on the computer with that look on your face.”

“I don’t have a look.”

Smiling, he presses his lips to your forehead. “Yeah you do.” Then to the furrow in your brow. “But it’s cute.”

He scatters slow, gentle kisses across your face, from your temples, to your cheeks, to your jaw, until he finds your lips and takes them carefully, relishing in your act of apology when your hands circle around his forearms and kiss him a little deeper. And slowly, he feels the tenseness in your body begin to dissipate, feels you turn into him more.

Pulling away, still intent on figuring out your rut, he rests his forehead to yours. “Talk to me, baby. What’s got you actin’ all mean, hm?” His hands hold you close, and his thumbs graze your cheekbones. “Somethin’ I do you wanna talk about?”

“No—”

“No?” He’d be lying if he said a wave of relief washed over him. “What’s goin’ on then?”

“I’m—it’s just that—…” You sigh.

He waits patiently, knowing that by now he’s cracking open that shell. “‘S alright, hon, we can work it out.”

“Carmen, I just—” And your lip quivers, and your throat gets sore, and your vision gets bleary from tears emerging. “I have so much to do, and—…”

“For school?”

You nod against him. “It’s just—I get behind on one thing, and then there’s five other things I need to do, and I try to get ahead but then I don’t sleep, and—I-I’m just stressed, is all.”

“I know.” He coos gently at you and thumbs away your tears. “I know, ‘n you’ve been workin’ so hard, baby.”

“Well I’m still not getting anywhere.” Your throat tightens, and tears keep falling, and you feel your resolve crumbling, the last of your strength dissolving now that Carmen’s handling you so gently. “And I just feel so stupid all the time—”

“Uh-uh,” he nudges his nose against yours, “You don’t get to say that, you’re the smartest person I know.”

He pulls you away carefully, just to look you in the eye—and his gut wrenches, seeing you like this, all pouty and wet with tears, your lips salty when he kisses them slowly to mellow the racing of your heart.

With a calm hand he urges your head to rest against his chest, his lips lending a kiss to your temple. “So fuckin’ smart ‘n you don’t even know it.” Naturally, the rest of you follows, with his arms keeping you close, one wrapped around your waist to hold you tight as the other hand rests with on the back of your neck to soothe you, scratching gently at the nape of it. “Always blowin’ me away, baby, you’re so smart. So hardworkin’, too—”

“But Carm—” Your sobs choke you up then, and there’s a throb in your forehead that has you almost begging for sleep.

“Shhh, what is it?” His hand smooths up and down your back, his voice becomes gentler than ever. “Take a breath, c’mon, take a deep breath.”

You push yourself away from his chest, seeing the tears staining his white tee before you look up at him. “I’m sorry, Bear. All the stress, it’s—I’ve been so mean to you lately—” you don’t even process the vigorous shake of his head— “I’m sorry, Bear—”

“Hey, hey, baby, stop—” He wipes tears from your eyes before they get the chance to spill onto your cheeks. “Stop with that, would ya?” Another kiss to your forehead has you melting. “You’re okay. We’re okay.” Another kiss, slower, to your sob-bitten lips, like he wants you to taste his forgiveness.

“But I was mean to you, and I’m sorry—”

His chest physically aches because he knows there’s only so much he can do for you. “I know,” he tells you, “I know, baby, I got you. It’s okay.”

“I promise don’t mean it, Carmen—”

“Yeah, I know that, hon.” Pulling you tight to his chest again, his strong arms wrap around you fully, and he presses kisses to the skin where he’s nuzzled into your neck. “You’re workin’ yourself to the bone, y’know that?”

“Mhm,” you hum, just happy to be held, to be swallowed whole by his warmth.

“You promise to rest up from now on?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah? Not even listenin’, huh?”

“Mhm.” You burrow into him just a little deeper, eyes slipping shut.

He scoffs, but it’s full of love. “It’s gettin’ late now.” He shuffles you closer to him with little effort, hooking his hands beneath your thighs to encourage them around his hips. “Let’s get you t’bed, hm? C’mon—” he hoists you to his hip with a subtle grunt— “Up you go, baby, that’s it—”

And in the brief minute or two it takes for him to turn out the lights in your shared apartment, and the twenty-some paces to the bedroom, you’re lulled off to sleep in his embrace, stoking that fire in his chest that keeps him going—because knowing you feel safe with him, secure with him, is all he really needs.

[jayparked]

25 + 117 with sunghoon pretty pleaseee🧎‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

warnings: muncher hoon, oral (f.rec.), teasing

wc: 406

"oh i can think of many ways to shut you up right now." sunghoon smirks confidently, crossing his arms casually over his chest.

"yeah? lemme guess...by shoving your cock down my throat? nice try but that's so overdone- hey!" before you can even process what's happening, sunghoon has you over one of his shoulders, swiftly walking back towards your shared bedroom.

you're about to say something to your boyfriend again, but before you can he's tossing you onto the bed, body bouncing against the mattress from the impact.

you expect him to start stripping himself right away, to take out his hard cock and move to position himself in front of your mouth.

instead, sunghoon has your sleep shorts off your body with one fluid motion, your perked clit now on full display to his hungry eyes. he places both hands on your knees and spreads your legs out further by pushing them to the side, shaking his head to the side with a small “mmmm” leaving his lips.

“let’s see shall we?” sunghoon takes his pointer finger and slides it from your hole up to your clit, collecting juices that have been building up.

sunghoon takes his finger and licks along his digit before inserting it fully in his mouth, taking it out with a pop. “just as i thought.” he falls to his knees and grabs your legs, pulling you towards the edge of the bed and closer to his face.

“sunghoon!” you yelp out. but it’s no use. he’s done listening to you.

“smell so good,” he whispers, his breath on your wetness making your body tremble, the urge to shut your legs tightly together so strong.

but sunghoon is stronger.

his hands grip your thighs tightly as he moves his face forward, making sure you cant even attempt to escape his grasp. not that you’d want to anyways.

something brushes against your clit that has you moaning out already. you’re expecting his tongue or maybe even his finger again. but when you look down between your legs you see your boyfriend moving his nose in tiny circles around your clit.

"you like messing with my head, don't you?" you gasp out, one hand snaking down to grasp sunghoon’s black locks.

"only because it clearly turns you on." another confident smirk adorns his face, one eyebrow raising up teasingly until he finally sticks his tongue out and flattens the muscle against your heat.

for part of my 1k follower celebration send me a member and a number from this list and i'll write a short drabble about it ♡ masterlist

[tinycoffeeroom]

birds of a feather | daniel ricciardo

face claim: N/A ♡

request: here !

pairing: daniel ricciardo x british!reader

cw: mentions of chr*stian horner, singapore gp 2024

a/n: sorry for the long hiatus but i just had to come back and make something for danny. i've loved that man since i got into f1 and the idea that i won't see him on track anymore hurts so deeply. thank you for the memories honey badger, you will always have a place here on tinycoffeeroom <3

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Hi baby.

Hi love.

You sound exhausted, did you not sleep well last night?

Not really, I've been trying to go over strategies with the team, but nothing seems to be working. There's no way I'm getting in the points this week.

I'm sorry Danny, I know how much you've been working on this...

Have you asked them about that power unit thingy you were talking about?

Yeah... they don't have the time to test it and add it in before this race or even COTA.

What about the new rear wing?

Well...

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Anyway, enough about this shit show. How are you, darling? I miss you.

I miss you too, pretty boy. It sucks that this conference overlaps the race, I wish I was there so bad. Just wanna hug you.

Me too, y/n. Me too. I'm coming back as soon as the race is over. At least we have 4 weeks before the next one. Did you manage to book time off?

I did! 2 whole weeks to follow you across the globe watching you strut your stuff! Hopefully we can get Horsey back for the memories.

Blake's been emailing the owner, so hopefully Horsey will make a reappearance. (LAUGHS)

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Oh wait, Helmut's calling me, I'll call you back babe.

Ok! Lemme know what he says!

Always do. Love you.

Love you too pretty boy.

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It had been a last minute decision, choosing to fly out to Singapore. You knew Daniel would never put his own needs above yours, and while the conference was important for your career, he was important to you too.

It had been easy getting everything sorted. By the time you were texting Blake about flying over, he had already sent you a message, a simple "you know?".

A quick email to your boss, a semi lie spun about a family emergency, and a whirlwind of packing bags later, you found yourself sitting in Heathrow.

Your fingers twitched nervously as you checked the time differences between England and Singapore, double checking Daniel wouldn't find it strange if you didn't respond to his texts for the next 13 hours.

Your flight left at 8PM Singapore time, that gave you at least 10 hours before he would wake up for the race.

Blake had sneakily upgraded your tickets to first class so you could sleep comfortably on the flight and be ready to go straight into race day, or night, when you landed.

Tapping your phone awake, you smile at the lock screen staring back at you.

You and Daniel had gone away with a few other couples from the grid, a well needed break from the stress of Formula 1. In the midst of a late night beach walk with Charles and Alex, Daniel had grabbed your thighs, hoisting you over his shoulder.

Your shrieks of laughter had drawn some weird looks from those around you, but neither of you cared. You'd clawed your way back, legs settling tightly around Daniel's waist as his arms wrapped tightly around yours.

You didn't even notice the flash of Alex's phone, too enthralled in the wide smile encapsulating the man holding you, all teeth and gums and happiness dripping from him like sweet honey. A quick peck to the bridge of his nose and then the corner of his mouth was enough for him to lower you gently to the ground, arms still encompassing you tightly. 

The sound of Charles fake gagging beside you finally pulled the two of you out of the lovesick stupor you'd been caught in, eyes roaming the shadows cast across your lover's face from the fading sunset. 

When Alex had texted you the photo once you were back in the hotel room, limbs wrapped around one another in the cool, air conditioned room, you'd chuckled lightly, drawing Daniel's attention. 

"What's so funny?" The hand gripping your thigh draped lazily across his lap squeezed once, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly. 

Turning the phone to face him, you watched his eyes light up, that same dazzling smile spreading as he took in the photo. 

"Send that to me."

You hummed in response, airdropping the photo to him as he pulled your thigh higher up his lap. As he leaned forward, lips searching for yours under the dim lamp light, you quickly set the photo as your lock screen, no doubt in your mind that Daniel would soon do the same. 

A tannoy drags you back to the present. 

"All passengers for flight SIA324, please make your way to the gate. Boarding will begin in 15 minutes."

Typing out a quick goodnight message to Daniel, you pocket your phone, sighing as you make your way towards what could be the last time you see Daniel in a Formula 1 car.

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ynstagram uploaded three stories to their close friends

replies:

lilymhe 💔 if i knew you were coming to singapore, i would have come too! ↳ ynstagram was a last minute decision sorry babe xx ↳ lilymhe ... don't tell me ↳ ynstagram 🙃

maxverstappen1 how did you get time off?? i thought you were super busy with work ↳ ynstagram claimed a family emergency, even if danny doesn't want me here, i needed to come ↳ maxverstappen1 he needs you y/n, more than i think even he knows

landonorris does dan know you're coming? ↳ ynstagram nope, blocked him from my close friends for a bit ↳ landonorris sneaky, i like it ↳ landonorris see you soon y/n, glad you'll be here :)

iamrebeccad you're coming to the gp??? come to ferrari hospitality if you can!!!! alex misses you 🥺 ↳ ynstagram don't think i'll be leaving vcarb this weekend, we can meet up for brunch soon though 🩷 ↳ iamrebeccad oh... yeah sure, just let me know 💜

blakefriend hope you got to the hotel alright, me and dan are out for his training session, did you get the keycard ok? ↳ ynstagram i did, and the paddock passes. thanks for this blake, i know with everything going on, last minute admin is the last thing you need ↳ blakefriend if it means dan can have some sense of calm in this mess, i'd do it 10 times over ↳ blakefriend we'll be back at 1pm, see you in a few hours ↳ ynstagram 🫡 see you then

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Getting from the airport to the hotel had been easy enough. Piling the bags you had brought from Monaco to London and now to Singapore onto the only trolley remaining, you make your way down to the Arrivals.

Stepping through the automatic doors, your eyes dart between the people around you. Families reuniting with bright laughter and happy tears, lovers sharing intimate kisses under the harsh airport lights. Businessmen already glued to the phone in their hands as they weave through bodies with ease, their bodies twisting and turning like a well rehearsed waltz.

A man in a black suit jacket and oversized chauffeur hat catches your eye, his eyes following your figure as you try to move around the other passengers. You glance down at the large piece of paper held just above his waist. 

“Y/N L/N” is scrawled in large black letters across the paper, chicken scratch that looks very much like Blake’s.

Making your way over, the man tips the edge of his chauffeur hat slightly, reaching a hand out to shake yours. 

You want to apologise for the clamminess of your palms as you accept his welcome, but before you can speak, he’s reaching across to take the trolley from you, his head tilting briefly in the opposite direction.

You follow behind him, feet double stepping to keep up as he expertly navigates the sprawling grounds of Singapore Airport. 

By the time you reach the car out front, a sheen of sweat covers your upper lip and you cringe, feeling your t-shirt slowly cling to your back. 

The man opens the boot, then the back door and ushers you in. The cold air conditioning feels like a welcome home kiss, brushing away the humidity that clings to your skin from the small journey between the airport and the car. By the time the man sits in the driver's seat, your eyes are slipping closed, head lolling against the headrest behind you. 

You didn’t mean to sleep for the entire car journey, but you’d barely been able to rest for more than 20 minutes on the flight, opting instead to cycle through nonsense films to play in the background as the thoughts in your mind waged a war on your emotions. 

It had been a tense 13 hours, trying to work out what had happened on that phone call between Daniel and Helmut. You knew there were talks of him not extending his contract, but leaving mid season?

Your Danny? The self proclaimed and well known Honey Badger, king of late braking and divebombing his grid mates. You’d been with him since the Red Bull days, and even if he wasn’t winning podiums, or even points sometimes, you thought there would be more of an uproar about this from him. 

This wasn’t the same man you’d watch nearly fight a waiter because he refused to bring you a new meal after they’d brought out a completely different dish, the same man who left everything on the tarmac and often dragged you to his trailer post race interviews for a well deserved nap. 

His texts had been despondent, almost like he believed this was the goodbye he deserved. 

That’s the part you couldn’t move past. The idea that he was going to finish his last race without the flair of Daniel Ricciardo, no doughnuts, no grid walk, no party to celebrate the last 13 years. 

After the McLaren debacle, you understood why he chose to fly under the radar. With COVID and the situation with Oscar, he’d been more than willing to slip away peacefully but this was different. 

This was Red Bull. Or the subsidiary at least. The team he’d spent the longest time in Formula 1 with. The team who took him in as a junior, that he’d won 7 Grand Prix’s with, scored well over 1000 points racing for. 

You would have thought that they would have wanted to give him a goodbye worthy of what he had brought to the team.

By the time the chauffeur shakes you gently awake, your mind is no clearer but one thing is for sure. Daniel will not face this storm alone.

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The time of Daniel getting back from his workout was looming slowly. Since entering the hotel room, you’d hopped in the shower, scrubbing the aeroplane smell from you. The suitcases were lined up against the wall and you were currently lazing on the bed, scrolling mindlessly through Tiktok. Every so often, you’d flick to the notification screen, just in case Blake’s incoming text had somehow slipped past without you catching it. 

Your eyes flutter slowly closed, maybe a 10 minute nap wouldn’t hurt. Before you can lock your phone and settle into the plush pillows, a notification pings through. Eyes darting open, you catch the banner notification before it slides up. 

They were in the lobby. 

“Fuckin’ hell Blake.” Scrambling up from the bed, you round the corner and make sure there is no sign of you in the living room section. Your shoes are tucked away in the bottom of the closet, jacket strewn across the chair in the corner of the bedroom. 

The telltale ring of a keycard being swiped rings through the air and you slide to hide behind the wall, heart thumping against your chest. Doubt begins to swirl through your mind. What are you even doing here? What if he didn’t invite any of his family or friends because he didn’t want them to see him go out like this? Would he want you to? 

Loud voices echo through the hallway, Aussie slang thrown about but you focus on the one thick with a Perth twang. 

Your Danny. 

“Mate, I’m just gonna go point Percy at the porcelain.” Blake’s voice grows louder as he walks through to the bedroom. He locks eyes with you, giving you a quick one armed hug as you exchange quiet greetings. 

Once enough time has passed, he gestures with a finger to his lips to be quiet, head popping around the corner to Daniel. 

“Did you bring Y/N’s jacket with you by mistake?”

A confused “No” comes from the living room before Blake leans across you, grabbing the clothing from the chair. He holds it aloft, in Daniel’s line of sight. 

“No idea what that’s doing here, mate. You know I always bring a t-shirt of Y/N’s which should be under the pillow.”

Your heart swells at the statement, you had no idea he’d sneak something of yours with him whenever you couldn’t attend races. The earlier doubts dissipate, you knew right here, with Daniel, was where you were supposed to be. 

“Strange… oh! I know what’s happened.” Blake shoots you a grin before wrapping a hand around your arm, pulling you into the doorway. 

Smiling softly at Daniel, you huff lightly at the way his eyes widen almost comically as he takes you in. Silence spreads through the room, the two of you locked in intense eye contact as Blake slowly moves aside to let you reunite. 

“Hello, my love.”

Daniel’s bottom lip wobbles slightly and before you can process it, he’s launched across the room, almost body slamming you with the force he runs at you with. Arms latch tightly around your waist, his head tucked tightly into your neck, trembling lips resting against your pulse point. 

“What, I, how?” The words are muffled against your skin, the edges of them tear soaked as the collar of your t-shirt dampens to match. 

Carding your hand through his still sweaty curls, you scratch lightly against his scalp. “As soon as you told me, Blake texted me. He booked me on the next flight.”

Daniel’s head pops out from his hiding place, all three of you ignoring the tears smattering his cheeks. He looks across to Blake, who simply shrugs his shoulders, reaching down to grab his gym bag. 

“You needed them, and they needed you. It was a no brainer. Also, don’t get sappy with me, I charged the flight to your business card.” A chuckle follows and he claps Daniel on the back once, nodding in your direction before heading out the front door, the sound of it closing echoing slightly. 

Daniel’s eyes track from the closing door back to you, wide in wonderment. “But your conference?”

Shrugging, you lean forward to press a soft kiss to the apple of his cheek. “Called in a family emergency. There’s no way I was letting you go through this alone.” You lift your hand up to his face, tracing a path across the same cheek you’d just kissed. “I know your parents or your friends can't be here, but I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to deal with everything going on with no kind of support. I know Blake’s here but-”

You’re cut off by his lips covering yours, desperation seeping through as the words die on your tongue. The taste of salt blooms, the tears still dripping slowly from his eyes. Yours join in quick succession. A rushed “I love you” slips from your mouth the moment you part, his own coming straight after. 

The slide of his lips against your own turns molasses slow, the cooled sweat on both of you soon making way for its heated counterpart as you gravitate closer to one another. Warm hands sneak under your t-shirt, the palms cupping the swell of your hips as Daniel whispers words of gratitude through stolen breaths. Your own hands rest against his neck, nails creating slight grooves under the pressure. 

Knowing what will come tomorrow, you take in this moment, second by second. The feel of his sweat slick skin under your palms, the slight stubble on his jaw scratching at your chin, the way his heart beats erratically in his chest pressed close to yours. 

Every part of this Daniel you memorise, capturing each memory in a gold plated frame. You store them away in the evergrowing gallery of your brain dedicated to the man before you, seal them under lock and key for your eyes only. 

You always knew that one day, you’d share them with him. When all the racing was over and the two of you had the house with the white picket fence, or more aptly, the farm with the white picket fence. You’d dissect every moment of him you stored away, stacked one by one for safekeeping. From the moment the two of you met in that busy London street, every grand prix win, every high followed by every low. Just in case he began to forget the man he was, the man he would still be. 

You just didn’t realise that day would be coming so soon. 

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ynstagram danielricciardo

[caption 2: gorgeous boy xx]

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After the race, you’d left Daniel to his own devices. You knew he would want to spend his time wandering around the track, soaking in every moment of what could be his last ever race. 

Grabbing a ride back with Blake, the two of you stick to small talk, neither able to formulate the words you truly wanted to say. 

He’d given you a brief goodbye in the lobby, arms wrapped around you in a tight squeeze before the two of you separated, him taking the stairs and you choosing to ride in the elevator. 

Shuffling through the front door, you kick your shoes off, nudging them next to the other pairs in the entryway. On the way up, you’d sent Daniel a quick text to let you know when he was on his way back. 

Expecting him to respond around midnight, you slowly work through your nighttime routine, opting to wear one of his shirts to bed instead of the pyjamas you’d neatly packed. 

Slipping into bed, you unlock your phone, squinting at the brightness. Still no messages from Daniel, the 1:27am at the top of your phone making you sigh deeply. Reaching over, you plug your phone onto charge before starting up a well loved podcast, choosing an episode you could probably quote from memory with how often you relistened to it. 

As the dulcet voices fall away to background noise, you settle in for the night, head half shoved into the pillow beside you, Daniel’s scent still lingering from this morning.

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Blearily opening your eyes as the other side of the bed dips lightly, you quickly tap your phone to see the time. A bold 3:57am blinks back at you briefly before the screen goes dark once more. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you, sorry babe.” Daniel’s voice whispers in the darkness, hand winding its way around your waist to pull you back to his chest. 

Resting your hand over his, fingers interlocking in the open spaces, you squeeze twice. “s’ok, wanted to see you when you got back anyway.”

Silence follows and before you can roll over to look at Daniel, his face presses into the centre of your shoulder blades, the skin warm through the fabric of the shirt.

“Danny?”

He stays quiet, the hand on your waist gripping tighter. You can hear the way his breath starts to shake on the inhale, the tears from his eyes slowly dampening the back of his shirt currently wrapped around you. 

“Danny, lemme see you.” A shake of his head rustles the shirt. “Baby, please.”

His grip on your waist loosens and you shuffle around carefully, trying to avoid shoving an elbow in his ribs and adding further insult to injury. 

You can hardly make out his face, the small amount of moonlight shining through the haphazardly closed curtains barely illuminating the curve of his cheek. It does catch the glint of his honey brown eyes, tears shimmering along his lash line. 

“Oh, my love.” Your heart breaks at the sight of the man in front of you, a shell of who you’ve come to know and love. The pressure behind your eyes builds, tears threatening to mirror Daniel’s. “C’mere.”

One hand wrapping around the back of his neck, you pull him to lay against you. He burrows in, head pressed tight into the junction between your neck and shoulder, a sombre juxtaposition to this morning. 

“This is the end. Everything I’ve worked for, over. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” His arm wraps tight around your waist once more, his leg coming to rest between yours. “I’m officially a has-been.” A wet chuckle escapes him, the noise too loud in the surrounding silence. 

You can’t stop yourself from tapping the back of his neck lightly. He knows you hate when he talks like that. “No one’s allowed to talk about the man I love like that.”

His head lifts from your neck to throw you a quick glance. “Even if it’s the man himself?”

Pulling him back to rest against your neck, you run your hands through his hair gently, twirling the longer strands around one of your fingers. “Especially if it’s the man himself. You’re not a has-been, never will be. You’re so talented in so many different ways, there will never be a time you can say you’re past your prime or whatever stupid shit is running around that gorgeous head of yours.” Your fingers tap against his scalp to drive the point home. “Even if you never step foot in one of those cars again, you’ve got your dirt biking, the wine company, Enchante, the 17 other high intensity sports you do that raise my blood pressure every time I watch. You’re smart enough to know how to adapt, and that is what you’ll do. I know it.”

“You seem very sure.” His voice comes out muffled from its spot against your neck, his breath tickling your skin. 

“That’s because I am. I was by your side during the papaya setback, I saw how you came back stronger. That’s what this situation is too, a setback. You’ll find a way through, even if I have to stand by the solution with a flashlight to guide you that way.” 

He chuckles, the edges of his voice no longer tainted with sorrow. “Can you still not say their name?”

You join his laughter, remembering the last time you’d spoken about McLaren. “Last time I mentioned that company, I got a cease and desist. Don’t think Zac was too happy with the way I was deservedly slagging them off.” Your nose wrinkles as you think back to the snottily worded email and attached letter that dropped into your inbox a few days after your last public comment about their shitty management. “So I promised to never let that name slip from my lips again.”

The room falls silent again, just for a moment. The two of you still tangled in an embrace, even as the first prickles of sweat bead against your hairline from the heat of your bodies in the warm Singapore evening. 

Daniel sighs, shuffling minutely to run a hand up and down the length of your side. “I just… I remember when I was 20. Being so excited to get into an actual F1 car, even as a tester. I remember jumping out, seeing that I was the fastest and thinking ‘this is it. This is my chance.’ I wanted to be a Red Bull driver so bad, with every part of me. To win a race, maybe even win a world championship, leave a legacy behind. And now I’ve wasted over a decade of my life with only 8 race wins to show for it. Not even a championship. What kind of legacy does that leave me?”

The sorrow creeps back into his voice, and you have to clear your throat before responding, willing the tears back once more. “A legacy doesn’t have to mean winning a world championship. Or even a race. Think about Jacky Ickx, Stirling Moss, Juan Pablo Montoya. All legends in their own right, but none of them had a world championship. If this was your last race in Formula 1, you leave behind a legacy in your own right. People will know your name for years, even decades to come. King of the late brakers, the guy who always had a smile and a kind word to say about everyone he ever met; even if they didn’t deserve it, the aptly named Honey Badger. Just because you don’t leave behind a legacy in being number 1, doesn’t mean you won’t be up there with the greats.”

Daniel hums, taking in your words, dissecting them one by one. “I’m scared. Where do I go now? Do I even try to come back? Move to a different company entirely? Retire officially and retreat to the farm? I don’t know who I am without Formula 1.”

You take a moment to think about the situation for yourself. A world where Daniel Ricciardo is no longer a Formula 1 driver. It always seemed so impossible to you, the company so deeply ingrained into his being that the very idea of him would cease to exist without it in his life. 

“Truthfully, I don’t know.” Your hand continues to card through his hair, a soothing gesture. Whether it was meant to soothe him or you, you weren’t too sure. “I wouldn’t even know where to start with advice, I’ve never had to walk in your shoes. But that doesn’t need to be something to think about right now. Enjoy some downtime, go home and spend time with your family, race dirt bikes around different parts of the world, go see Scotty and Chloe. The future is still so bright for you, Danny. And I’m just happy that I get to be beside you through it all.”

Slowly, he raises his head from its perch, bright eyes finding yours. Despite the situation, you swear he’s never looked more beautiful than in this moment. Teeth bitten lips find yours in the dim light, clumsy and fierce, but perfect in its own right. 

“I love you. So fucking much. From the first day we met and you shouted at me for splashing you with a puddle, I knew you were the one. Thank you for never leaving.”

You laugh aloud, remembering how you’d been late for university, umbrella thrashing in the England wind, when a bike had come up dangerously close beside you, running straight through a puddle and covering your jeans in muddy water. 

After a long rant at the rider, you’d looked up into apologetic golden eyes and high cheekbones, and immediately the anger had dissipated. “And I love you. Maybe not from the puddle moment, but you won me over nearly immediately after. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here, with you.”

This is the moment. The moment to open the gallery in your mind to the man in front of you. To recall each and every moment you’d captured in glossy oils and remind him of who he is, who he always has been. 

And then Daniel lays his head back down to your chest, lips pressing an appreciative kiss to the shirt underneath, warmth blossoming through the fabric to your skin below. And the moment passes. 

Pressing your head back into the pillow below, you listen to how Daniel’s breathing slows, settling down as he drifts off to sleep. The perfect moment will come back. There’s still time.

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liked by fan, fan and 982,167 others

formula1 BREAKING: Daniel Ricciardo to leave RB, the team have announced

see 238,816 others

fan what the fuck

fan not danny ric 💔💔

fan we just got him back😭😭😭

fan helmut marko watch your back.

user lol not surprised, we all knew he was washed ↳ fan 123.456.789.012 ↳ user did i just get doxxed?

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

👤 danielricciardo liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 890,274 others

ynstagram the man of many names. danny ric, ricky bobby, honey badger and most importantly, the love of my life. i've loved you for 6 summers and i'll love you for 600 more.

in the words of our favourite musical, wherever you go i won't be far to follow. whether it's in the navy of the bulls, papaya of [REDACTED], the bee striped renault or the dazzling white of vcarb, you bring so much light and happiness everywhere you go, and i've been privileged to bask in the warmth of you.

and until the next adventure, i will always be here to remind you of the power and strength you inhabit, the souls you've breathed life into and the happiness you've brought to the sport you love (sometimes more than me) for over a decade.

always and forever, your y/n x

see 10,286 other comments

fan anyone else absolutely sobbing right now?? ↳ fan as if his post wasn't enough to make me bawl, ofc y/n drops this

fan to have a love like y/n and danny...

fan not y/n censoring mclaren, they hate that damn team so much ♥️ ynstagram

danielricciardo my darling, i love you, always and forever ❤️ ↳ ynstagram so excited for our future, whatever it holds ❤️

landonorris thanks y/n max is crying now 👍 ↳ ynstagram 🤣 which one? ↳ maxfewtrell both ↳ maxverstappen1 both

alexandrasaintmleux 🩷 we need another double date when you're back in monaco x ↳ ynstagram do we have to bring them? ↳ danielricciardo on my own dedication post... wow ↳ ynstagram 🤷 gotta show my girl love whenever i can

fan helmut better hide, y/n doesn't play when it comes to their man ↳ fan fr don't let the sappy post fool you, ik they have a hitlist in their notes

fan him leaving before COTA is so messed up, he loves that track 😭😭😭 ↳ ynstagram wish you guys could have seen the special helmet :( ↳ fan OH HELMUT MARKO WHEN I CATCH U!!!!!!! ↳ fan special helmet... pls we need to see i BEG

lewishamilton with you by his side, the future is bright for the honey badger 🤍 ↳ ynstagram thanks lew 🩷 ↳ danielricciardo thanks man :)

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a/n: this is not proof read, so ignore any mistakes. i can't wait to see what danny does in the future, whatever it is, i'll be supporting him all the way <3

[daxisyzz]

I keep thinking Diamond Boy by SZA could be the basis for a great Bucky fic, if for no other reason than the lines "You make my thoughts stop/You make being me less hard" are SO Bucky coded

And I'm also obsessed with the Deluxe SOS and listening to it in my car on my commute every day

BUT I feel like you could do something sweet and fluffy with it that I would love to see!

Hope you like it<3 lemme know

Diamond Boy

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You don’t know how to explain it, but around Bucky, everything inside you quiets. At 2 a.m. by the pool, you finally let yourself lean into it.

Word count: 708

Warnings and tags: kinda song fic, comfort, feeling safe with Bucky, fluff, talks about no sleep, he makes you feel yourself.

The compound is quiet at night.

You like it best that way—when the lights dim and the weight of the world slips off your shoulders for just a moment. The chaos fades. Everyone else is asleep, or at least pretending to be. But you… you’re out here again. Barefoot, wearing a comfy hoodie and shorts, legs swinging over the edge of the pool.

The water glows soft blue under the surface lights, and the cool air kisses your skin in a way that makes you feel like maybe, maybe—you’ll be okay.

You close your eyes and lean back on your palms, letting your head tilt up to the sky. The stars are out tonight. Not that you’re really looking.

You don’t hear him at first. Just the shift of weight on concrete. The soft sound of water sloshing.

Then: “You always sit out here this late?”

You don’t startle. You knew he’d come. He always does.

“Only when I can’t sleep,” you say, turning just enough to see him in your periphery.

Bucky. Loose gray sweatpants, black T-shirt clinging to him like it missed his jacket. His metal arm glints faintly in the moonlight. His eyes—not blue like water, but like winter air—land on yours and don’t waver.

He joins you without another word, settling beside you on the edge of the pool with a quiet groan as his muscles stretch.

You like this part. When he doesn’t ask questions. When he just is. The silence that settles between you isn’t heavy. It never is with him. It’s full, somehow. It feels like… being seen without needing to explain anything.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” you ask, after a long minute.

He shrugs. “Didn’t want to be in my head.”

Yeah. You get that.

You glance at him, and even in the low light, you can see it—he’s tired. Not just physically. It’s in his eyes, in his posture, in the way he rolls his shoulders like he’s trying to loosen more than tension. Like he’s trying to breathe a little easier. You know that feeling.

“I like this,” you say softly. “Being here. With you.”

He looks at you again, this time with a flicker of something warmer.

“Feels… real,” you add. “Like the rest of the world shuts up when we’re out here.”

Bucky’s gaze lingers. “I like it too.”

There’s a pause. Then:

“You don’t talk like this with anyone else,” he says.

You chuckle, self-conscious. “You make it easier.”

He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

Your throat tightens slightly, but you speak anyway. “You make being me less hard.”

His brow furrows. Not with confusion—with care.

You keep going, barely above a whisper now. “All day, I’m bracing. For the next task, the next reaction, the next expectation. Even when no one’s asking anything, I feel like I’m carrying everything. But when I’m with you…”

You look at him fully now. “You’re the only person I don’t feel like I have to earn peace from.”

Bucky doesn’t speak for a moment. His face softens in a way that makes your chest ache.

“I didn’t know anyone thought of me like that,” he says quietly.

You reach out without thinking, your fingers brushing his metal wrist gently. He doesn’t flinch.

“You don’t have to try so hard either, you know.”

He exhales—like he’s been holding his breath all night—and shifts just enough that your knees bump. He lets his hand slide over yours, linking your fingers, thumb sweeping over your knuckle slowly.

“Whenever I think it’s all too much,” he murmurs, “I end up looking for you.”

Your heart skips. You don’t know what to say to that. But maybe you don’t have to. Maybe sitting here, leaning into each other with the world asleep around you, says everything.

You rest your head on his shoulder. He presses a soft kiss to the top of it.

You don’t say anything else.

You don’t need to ask what this is or where it’s going.

It’s enough—this late-night softness, this shared quiet.

And for the first time in a long time, being you doesn’t feel like a burden.

Because Bucky’s here. And in this after-hours stillness, everything that hurts fades just enough to let you breathe again.

[stxrryskys]

STARRY MY LOVE I HAVE THE BEST FUCKING UDEA

Can you do headcanons of the MW crew of when they find that the reader has drawn the most down bad positions of them and the member of the crew? Then When they're asked about it they try to just write it off as anatomy practice?

YES YES YES!

C/W : Suggestive! Smut for goonsuke... Fweaky sex positions and yeah!

Daisuke:

your major was art, times were tough so you got an internship at pony express. when you boarded the tulpar you brought a sketch book so you didn't get bored. you became very close with daisuke almost instantly, he matched your energy so well he was literally you but a male, anyways, you were on the couch in the "living room" one day and you were drawing.. Drawing freaky stuff.. You liked to practice anatomy but you feel like you spaces out and drew two figures 69ing...while standing up.. And then you looked really closely at it and the male figure looked like daisuke and the women looked a bit like you.. Then as soon as you came to that Realization, daisuke walked in

"Hey dude! Whatcha up to? " you quickly sat on your sketch book and started a conversation with him

An eternity went by and you guys were laughing

"I gotta piss" you said abruptly, you sat up and skipped to the bathroom then he notices the sketchbook sitting on the couch and got curious and flipped though it

He flushed a bright shade a red when he saw the detailed position on one of the pages.. Then he looked closer and closer and saw that it kinds looked like.. HIM?! Shit.. What would he say to-

"DAISUKE! PUT THAT DOWN!! " you ran and hopped on top of him in an attempt to get him to put it down

"S-sorry I-i- got curious!! " he said as you hop on him

"That's - it was just- anatomy practice!! I swear!! "

"I-i- believe you !! "

Goonsuke:

"Is that me "____"?? If you wanted to do something like that with me then you could've just said so~"

So with your consent he waited till everyone went to sleep and did that EXACT position with you, just because he's young does NOT mean he lacks arm strength. He literally used to beat his shit everyday before the tulpar(and he's a baseball player 😻😻)

"Fuck you taste so fucking goo- ah-! "

Curly:

If you're being honest, you're terrified of curly, He is a really big guy and he looks like he could totally pound you into the concrete if he wanted to but your perspective on curly changed the second you accidentally walked in on him changing.

you drew as a hobby to pass the time and you thought you were pretty good at it, you definitely liked realism more than anything else and you kinda... zoned out? and when you looked back at your sketch book it was a RAUNCHY position,, specifically of you and curly, he was holding you, like up while slamming you onto his cock, you had to hide this before anyone could come snoop-

"_____? you in here?"

shit

"U-uh no!!"

But it was to late.. He was already in here

"Whatcha drawing kiddo? "

"NOTHING!? "

"Nothing?? C'mon lemme see" he snatched your sketch book and his eyes widened... Oh you're cooked

"C-captain! Put that down please!! " he just ignored your pleads and continued to examine the drawing

"... That me sugar? " he looked down at you with a lustful look in his eyes

"I-it was just anatomy practice!! "

He set down the sketch book and and grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you up on your desk like it was nothing

"Curly?? "

"You wanna recreate that with me baby? "

Anya:

You were anyas intern, she was a super sweet lady, you and her got along well, you enjoyed her company, when she wasn't all shy and quiet she was super sweet and funny, at the moment you and her were sitting in the medical room chatting late at night and you brought up your drawing hobby and she wanted to dabble in it! So you got your sketch book and showed her some of your sketches, then... She flipped to one page....

"Ah! Uhm!! S-sorry "___" I didn't mean to flip to-"

yet she continued to stare at it, and she purposefully moved into a position to where you couldn't retrieve the sketchbook

"A-anya! give it back"

"Im looking! gimme a sec!'"

you hop on top of her, causing her to fall back on the medical table

the sketch in question? just you. and anya! ,,,,,scissoring and she was just enamored with the drawing, even when you kept trying to take it

Now, anya was feeling bold, she hooked her legs around your waist and brought you closer

"So? Is that how you really feel about me? "

Jimmy:

Jimmy hated you and you hated him. It had always been like that, he was a dick, the LAST thing you wanted was to be his friend, especially on the tulpar.

He would constantly make fun of your art. He thought of you as "mediocore" so you'd usually only draw when you were alone because Jimmy was EVERYWHERE!

You were at the tiny little desk in your quarters and you were drawing what came to mind, you didn't really know but you could wing it.

Finally!! You were finished!! Leeeets take a loo-.... What is that.. AH! WHAT THE FUCK!! YOU DREW YOU!! AND- AND JIMMY HE WAS ON- ON TOP OF YOU WHILE YOUR LEGS WERE OVER YOUR OWN SHOULDERS- damn. You were NOT that flexible. You didn't really realize this before but..jimmy was actually really- attractive?? Before you could comprehend... Jimmy walked in

"Hey! My laundry got mixed up with - dude what the fuck is that?? " he pointed to the sketch book

"Nothing!! "

"Nothing my ass! Is- is that me?! "

"NO! GET OUT!! "

"What the fuck??.. Is this who you really are? Just some slut? " well that was actually really hot and you didn't even know you were into that

"I-it was just anatomy practice! "

"Bullshit... You really are a slut" he moved closer and backs you up against the desk, hands on either side of you

"Yknow.. You've never looked as good as you do now.. I guess it's when you're being a little pervert.. Now..we're gonna do that"

A/N FINALLY!! I'M DONE!! I'm sorry it's taken me forever to get this out because oh my god. I've been so freaky sick, we have a bug going around😣😣 and I've had to get back into therapy so I haven't been doing all that great 😮‍💨 BUT I'M ALIVE! I'M SORRH!! ENJOY! N

[novas-corner]

OH DEAR GODS PEOPLE ACTUALLY LIKED MY WRITING???? I hope y’all know I’m freaking out about this, it will get to my head (my apolocheese)

Anyways, a singular person asked for more… so… more it is!!

Again with all of this I know almost NOTHING about the game, I’ve missed out on a lot of lore since I am simply a card collector… and I’m very biased towards characters 😭‼️

Also this was NOT proofread properly (I’m doing this on no sleep at eight in the morning.)

Anyways, part 1 is here!

Also I’m basing their schedules around THIS post here!! (I think it’s official stuff? Idk)

Thank you for listening to me yap… back to being isekaid!!!! (I still do not know how to spell that)

Oh also there’s angst ish in here? Idk man I’m just writing out my thoughts at this point LOL

OH FUCK AN ISEKAI

Alright well sleeping was… a nightmare. All five of them argued until you eventually gave up and went to the couch. Damn boys, they’re gonna make your life trouble and you know it. But you gotta admit… five guys fawning all over you is kinda nice! The attention? Fantastic. They give you massages? UGH, so nice.

Well… you’ll need one of those mentioned massages tomorrow, you know damn well your back is going to be killing you in the morning.

You’re surprised to see Sylus walk into the living room, sitting next to you.

“You shouldn’t sleep out here sweetie, it’s not good for your body… what if I took you back to the N109 zone with me? You could sleep in a nice comfortable bed there and there would be much more space”

You groan, sitting up

“The only way I will do that is if you bring the other four with us. You need to remember that we are all not technically in our own universes since this ISNT the main storyline of the game. I don’t want them to be stranded here, I’d feel bad about that”

He sighs, but smiles down at you, pulling your head into his lap.

“Always thinking of others before yourself hm sweetie? Be a bit selfish sometimes okay?”

You huff, but relax into his embrace nonetheless.

“Yeah… I’ll try. Why are you up anyways? Couldn’t sleep?”

He’s running his fingers through your hair (or just rubbing your bald head, idk man) and chuckles down at you.

“Oh come on, I thought you knew all about us”

He’s teasing you… cocky mf-

“The N109 zone doesn’t have a day or night technically, so my schedule is a bit off from everyone else”

Oooooooh… riiiight… you had forgotten about that, honestly there’s probably so much you’ve forgotten. You never did read through the events or stories, just let them play in the background to get more pulls for banners… maybe you should get back into the story after all this blows over… or then again… maybe you won’t have to due to being with them all the time now.

“Right… I forgot about that… well I’m… tired. So I’m going to sleep- lemme move-“

You’re trying to shuffle off his lap to not disturb him, but he just rests a hand on the small of your back and tells you to ‘not worry’ and that he can ‘handle you sleeping for a bit’

…that’s sweet…

You’re relaxing into him almost immediately and drifting off, letting your slumber take over you.

What you don’t know however, is that once sylus is sure you’re asleep, he’s analyzing you, trying to see if this was all some ploy to not be caught for cheating… but it’s really a different person. What was once a person he knew was now just someone who knew him. It was a strange feeling, they had the face of the one he loved, they almost sounded like them too— they just spoke differently. It felt so right and yet so wrong to have you there… maybe he should have Zayne give you a physical checkup tomorrow, make sure you’re healthy and all.

Sylus tries to not care for you, after all… you’re not HIS, not the person he knew. But you acted the same in so many ways… hopefully this can all be fixed. For now though, he sits running his fingers through your hair as he reads a book.

~Timeskip~

It’s morning now and you groggily wake up to the smell of bacon. You’re sitting up, rubbing your sleep ridden eyes as a cheerful voice calls out from the kitchen.

“Oh! Sorry pips, did I wake you up?”

You’re standing now, walking over to Caleb with a yawn.

“Nono… I just woke up… whatcha making?”

He’s all smiles, you’re honestly not sure how he has so much energy at six in the morning but whatever.

“Just some bacon and eggs! Want some?”

He says with a grin, pointing to the plate of bacon and eggs. You pause, eyeing the plate.

“Were the eggs made first? I’m allergic and can’t really risk cross contamination… don’t wanna die today, y’know?” (I’m reminding y’all that this is ME written as if it’s YOU. We ain’t having eggs together homies 🫵🥲)

“Oh?? Uh… I think so? Maybe you shouldn’t eat them to be safe… I’ll make you something else!”

He’s saying while already looking for something else to make… at least they know where everything in this apartment is located, I’ve got no clue.

You’re trying to find bread and hear him mumbling something about how his version of you isn’t allergic to anything… guess that’s a difference.

He sees you rifling through literally every drawer and pats you on the head.

“You know you can ask for things… right?”

“Well- maybe I just wanted to see if I could do it myself, this is technically my apartment after all… but uh… where’s the bread?”

He’s laughing at you, pointing to the bread literally in the counter, you blind blind mf. Your shoulders almost slump in defeat as you pop some toast into the toaster and open the fridge. Huh… fully stocked… that’s nice, where’s the butter though…

As if reading your mind, Caleb walks behind you and grabs the butter for you.

“Here, it’s buried in there, you wouldn’t have found it alone”

You’re just kinda looking up at him, he’d got you cages in between him and the door- HE DID THE HOT THING WHERE THEY GRAB SOMETHING FOR YOU GANG. Ugh you forget that this is a game about flirting and they’re gonna be doing that.

“Oh… right, thank you”

You’re quickly scurrying away from him— and as everyone does, you get spooked by the damn toaster. That mf laughs at you AGAIN. Jerk…

Anyways you’re buttering your toast and watching as he plates his food, having made extra for the others… that’s sweet of him.

“I usually ask my version of you to work out in the mornings… so… would you want to join me for a morning workout after breakfast?”

You look up from your toast, a mouthful and crumbs on your face, he just smiles at you as you swallow your food and wipe your face.

“Mm- sure? Im not the strongest though so expect me to not keep up.”

Which gets you thinking… how in the hell are you going to do the job of the MC??? There’s no way you could deal with wanderers… would you being here jeopardize the job the MC has? Oh gods I mean you can technically rely on the guys for money but what if they get sick of you not being their MC. Not only that, is time passing back home? Will people realize you’re gone? Are you going to end up like an unsolved crime case?

“Hey… are you okay?”

His voice snaps you out of the despair trace you were in, you look up at him with wide eyes and see him looking at you concerned.

“Oh… yeah sorry I was just thinking… I’ll join you for the workout, it’ll probably take my mind off things.”

You’re trying to keep smiling, you’ve been obsessed with these men for months and they’re literally all here, you should just enjoy this in case it’s a dream, y’know?

He’d still visibly concerned but decides to drop it, finishing his food and grabbing yours and his empty plates, putting them in the sink to wash later.

“Well let’s go workout then shall we? You can sit on my back while I do pushups? Alright pips?”

OH BOY!!! You’re standing with a smile, nodding along and following him along to the door, pausing and looking down at your clothes.

“Ooooh wait I need to change my clothes first”

You begin to wander back to what you found out is your room, walking in to see Zayne buttoning up his shirt, and Rafayel and Xavier cuddled up in bed… well more like Xavier cuddling up to Rafayel but whatever they look kinda cute, y’know?

You smile at Zayne, he just nods to you, finishing putting his shirt on.

“There’s breakfast there, Caleb made eggs and Bacon, plus bread for toast”

You’re saying as you walk over to the closet, rifling through the clothes there. You know that MC has got to have something for a workout other than this damn hunters uniform… surely right?

Oh thank the gods they do. (I actually could not find one but I’m gonna guess MC has a workout outfit)

“Are you working out? Have you eaten breakfast yet?”

You turn to see Zayne, who is now hovering behind you.

“Oh! Yeah Caleb invited me to workout with him, I guess him and the me you know worked out in the mornings”

He just nods.

“Alright, enjoy that then, I’ll be back later, I’m going to try and stay with you overnight and whatnot to see if I can help figure out what’s going on, the rest of the men have also agreed they want to be around as well.”

You just nod, biting at your lip slightly. It’s sweet that they care about you enough, but you’re sure they’re only caring because they want their old lives back. You can’t really blame them though since you just want your life back too. Again, it’s nice to be here with men you’ve simped over… but you have friends, parents… ugh be positive damnit, we can’t be depressed all the time.

“Right okay…“

You’re trailing off, not really knowing how to proceed.

“The white haired man— Sylus I believe? He mentioned that I should give you a checkup at some point today. Would you rather visit the hospital during my lunch break or wait I til I get back?”

You raise an eyebrow at his words. Oh boy these mfs are in for a TREAT, they’ll never expect the amount of things wrong with me. Huh that begs the question, will my body function differently than theirs? I mean obviously I don’t have the protocore heart and whatever else… but is it different since they’re game characters?

OH MF YOU DIDNT ANSWER-

“Probably just when you get back, I’m not really sure how to get to the hospital after all.”

He just nods, patting you on the head and walking out.

“Sounds good, I’ll expect you to be ready when I get home then. Have a good day.”

HE’S SO STOIC???? I don’t know how to feel bout that but whATEVER YOURE SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING OUT.

You gather your clothes and move over to the bathroom, as you’re getting dressed you can hear Rafayel waking up and causing a ruckus over being cuddled by Xavier. God damn he’s loud…

You’re changed now and walk back to the living room, where Caleb is sat on the couch waiting for you.

“Ah! Finally pips! Felt like I was gonna have to search for you in case you had gotten lost!”

He’s honestly adjusted really well to the fact that I’m not the me he knows. I wonder if it’s a facade, I know damn well he cares a great deal for his version of me. STOP THINKING SO NEGATIVELY. DAMN.

Anyways you’re smiling slightly at his words, listening to him yap about what he’s planning to do for his workout, it’s just going in one ear and right out the other if I’m being real.

You leave the apartment and go to the gym that I guess the apartment has? (I’m making things up as I go at this point, things will just appear as I need them too)

He’s doing weights and stuff, you’re struggling to get through his tough workout (I’m crippled sorry gang, if I gotta struggle so do you 💔)

He notices this of course and slows his pace down, eventually stopping and patting you on the shoulder.

“Hey… you don’t need to do this y’know?”

You just sigh and look up at him defeated.

“Does your version of me do this every day? That bitch is ATHLETIC.”

He laughs at you and offers to just help him with his workout I stead, which you joyfully agree to, watching Caleb workout? YES PLEASE.

So now here you are, sat on his back and counting his pushups for him. Huh, suddenly the angst from earlier is gone as you watch his ARMS??? UGHHHH 🤩

He eventually finished that up though (UNFORTUNATELY) and just looks up at you… still on his back, making it just a lil bit hard to get up.

“Pips… you gotta move y’know?- I will just roll you over, you should know this.”

Oh we gotta know what that means.

“Hm? The ground is talking, how strange…”

You’re looking up at the ceiling with an almost expectant grin on your face, which he does not fail to realize. Well you asked for it.

Suddenly he has managed to roll you off him and have you underneath him. Don’t ask the logistics of it, just go with it.

You’re looking up at him with wide eyes, Christ it was fast— how in the hell did he do that???

He just chuckles and gets off of you, offering a hand out for you to take, which you do and he pulls you up. "l have to say, you don't act all that different, it's easy to forget you're not the same person I've known." OUCH????? OK ANGST IS BACK IG??? He's walking you back up to your apartment, the hand he used to help you up now wrapped around your shoulder "Oh?.. is that... a bad thing?" "I suppose it isn't! It makes you fun to be around!" "Ah okay..." You trail off, you know what you want to ask but... "What happens if you can't get... the other me back?" The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think to stop them, he almost freezes in his tracks but keeps walking, smile faltering slightly. "I'm... not sure..." "Would you stick around knowing I'm not the person you knew? Or are you just here to get them back?"

He doesn't know how to answer you, because of course he wants his version of you back... but would he just.. leave? He doesn't even know himself. "For now lets not worry about that, okay pips? I'm here now and that's all that really matters, we'll figure everything out eventually" You just nod, looking down and mumbling a small apology... well that's... sad. So anyways you finally make it back to the apartment, and head to your room to grab a basic outfit.

Xavier is STILL asleep- does this mf have narcolepsy??? Whatever, you grab your outfit and turn to go to the bathroom, you need a shower to think again, plus you smell like sweat.

The door to the bathroom is closed when you get there, you knock only to hear Rafayel telling you to come in. You walk in and OH MY STARS-

“OH- sorry didn’t realize you would be IN the bath- I can come back later I’m so sorry-“

He cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“No no it’s okay, did you need something?”

He’s asking with a slight tilt to his head. Dear gods man he is sculpted like a god, probably because he literally is one- STOP STARING.

You manage to snap yourself out of it, face absolutely red and looking down at the clothes in your hands.

“Sorry I was just trying to shower and get dressed- I can do so later-“

He’s sitting up in the bathtub, motioning for you to come closer.

“You can come bathe with me if you’d like? I don’t mind sharing.”

SIR?????? You are red as a lobster and I fear he is reveling in this fact— HOW IS HE SO CALM ABOUT THIS????

“No- that’s fine I’ll just… see myself out… thanks for the offer though”

You manage to mumble out, looking anywhere but at him and finally turning yer butt around to walk out. You hear him chuckle behind you and call out to you as you shut the door, playful as ever.

“Your loss Mx bodyguard!!”

TEASING MF. Ok anyways we need to find somewhere else to change it seems. So you opt to just shut yourself in the little closet and get changed. Xavier is still asleep in bed, which is kinda cute, he’s out like a ROCK. Honestly and earthquake could pass through and not much would happen I fear.

You wander around the place, Caleb, Zayne and Sylus are all out somewhere, Rafayel is in the bath and Xavier is asleep. There’s… not much to do.

You’re tired though and you slept on the couch, so you find yourself walking over to your room and climbing into bed opposite to Xavier.

You pass right out.

—————————————

Gang I’ll be honest, you could FEEL it falling apart at the end😭‼️

In my defense, it’s almost eight in the morning and I have not slept.

I wrote myself into a bit of a corner too since there’s like… nothing going on ‼️‼️‼️

I also do not know how to write seggsy time so I had to QUICKLY 180 from that.

Anyways I have ideas for another part, if people don’t burn me at the stake for being a crap writer I might add another part to this disaster LMAO

Okok yap session is over, thank you for reading this !! 🤩

Tag list ?!?! (Ask to be added 🤩)

@lunia-likes-pomegranet

[ghostgirl-22]

i can't get the idea of patrick and art dry humping and getting off like that out of my head help

*Tashi voice* Does this help you anon??

CW: MDNI, NSFW

Summary: This is about when Patrick comes out as bisexual and Art, just so excited for him, becomes the most annoying “fake” gay friend ever. 

—-

He’s finally certain after he sees Pirates of the Caribbean for the first time. Then the second time. Then he buys the dvd just to be really, really sure. Sitting in the dorm while Art’s away, jerking off imagining himself as Orlando Bloom, imagining himself as Kiera Knightly. 

He’s so nervous about what Art will think but it turns out to be no big deal. Art brushes it off like “haha okay cool man, just don’t fall in love with me.” 

Patrick is already in love with him…he probably always has been… but doesn’t want to freak Art out, so he just says, “shut up dude, you’re not even my type.”

They both laugh. Things deflate and mostly go back to normal. 

Except for the fact that Art gets so, well… gay… for lack of a better phrase. He gets really flirty over the next few months. Suddenly he’s got his arms over Patrick’s shoulder all the time, hanging off of him, playing with his hair, making little stupid jokes amongst their teammates. “Don’t be mad at his serve guys, it’s actually good and I’m not just saying that because he kisses me tenderly before we go to sleep every night.” Art says, their teammates snickering as Patrick tosses a tennis ball at him.  

After practice Art comes to him in their dorm room. “Hey man you looked a little stiff out there, you want a massage? Lemme give you a massage,” and he’s rubbing Patrick’s shoulders. It feels nice until Art says “You can get naked and I’ll bring out the baby oil for you,” he grins before Patrick laughs and tells him to fuck off. 

One Saturday they’re at a match. It's still early spring. Patrick gets chilly easily but his sweatshirt is in the wash. Art’s kind of an ice queen so he’s not phased by it. “Come on dude, you can borrow my sweater,” he says as Patrick shivers. So Patrick’s walking around all day with Donaldson on the back of his sweatshirt. 

“It’s funny, like I gave you my last name or something,” Art teases. Which doesn’t make Patrick feel anyway at all. 

Art likes to point out “hot dudes” to Patrick, in the guise of trying to help him find a boyfriend. “Come on you gotta rip the band aid off. If you don’t get a boyfriend soon… you’re gonna have to take me.” 

“Yeah?  You wanna be my boyfriend?” Patrick smirks. 

“Sure, I'll break your hymen,” Art snorts. 

Again Patrick feels completely fine and normal.

They play fight a lot more too. Well, they start up again. They used to do it a lot when they were kids and there’s a sudden resurgence of childish wrestling matches. Art usually starts it, he’ll dumbly jump on top of Patrick and try to get him to smell his armpit before he gets in the shower or something stupid like that which usually leads to the two of them breathless on the floor or in one of their twin beds. One of them pinning the other. Patrick usually has to adjust himself so he doesn’t give anything away. 

Except Art acts like it’s what he wants. “Bet you wanna kiss me so bad right now, dude,” he smirks. 

“Yeah I do, come here,” Patrick says and Art will laugh like he’s not serious. 

Or even worse he’ll whisper in Patrick’s ear, “god I’m so fucking hard right now.” And then fall over in a fit of giggles. Asshole.

Patrick’s learned none of it’s serious. He knows Art isn’t doing it to be malicious, even if it kinda sucks sometimes. He knows Art loves him (as a friend) and maybe this is Art’s way of acting like nothing is different. Or maybe it’s his radical acceptance of Patrick’s sexuality. Or maybe… or maybe…  

Whenever Patrick has a girlfriend Art will joke around like, “Okay she’s your girlfriend but like…I’m still your boyfriend, right?” He says it when they're in the middle of the last round of Mario Kart, just before Patrick’s about to leave for his date. 

“Yeah always, loser,” Patrick adds the last part, as he zooms past Art in the game.  

“Okay so gimme a kiss before you go,” Art taps his cheek. He’s so stupid. And Patrick is too, because he does it. 

It comes to a head one night when Patrick’s in a bad mood. He didn’t do well on an exam and there's a possibility he might be at risk for academic probation. Usually when he’s in a bad mood he gets kinda horny and right now he’s not really in the mood for teasing.

They’re studying and Art sighs before asking Patrick for another homoerotic favor. “Fuck… dude please, please i need your help… can you stretch me? My legs are so fucking sore from those lunges. I can’t even focus.”

Patrick does it, only to stop Art from making those soft, extremely distracting, moans of discomfort. He stretches Art out on the solid surface of their bedroom floor. It’s a special kind of hell listening to him grunt his satisfaction.

Patrick’s pressing down one of Art’s legs, while leaning over his face. He’s shirtless, blond curls fanned out, blue eyes shining with amusement. He starts pouting those soft pink lips making stupid kissy faces. Patrick is so horny and irritated that he just does it. A little peck on his lips. 

“Seriously like the best fucking kiss I’ve ever had in my life.” Art grins. 

“Stop testing me,” Patrick snaps.

“Testing you how, man?” Art grunts out, nonchalant as Patrick stretches him deeper.

”You know I’m bisexual.” If Art keeps this up— today of all days Patricks gonna lose it and show him exactly what bisexual means. 

“Yeah of course I do. Remember you’re my boyfriend, you buy me dinner and stuff,” he laughs and when Patrick doesn’t join him Art reaches out and pats his arm. “Don’t worry dude I got your back, always.” 

Patrick narrows his eyes. “Boyfriend Art, really?”

”what? You don’t want me?” Art teases. 

“Yeah, I want you.” Patrick says plainly, backing off of the stretch. 

Art laughs, dropping his leg to the floor.

“I’m so fucking serious.” Patrick says, keeping eye contact. 

Art’s smile starts to settle and he shrugs. “Well of course you do. I’m too hot to resist.” 

Patrick rolls his eyes and then crawls over him.  Kissing him again but this time he means it. Mouth pressed against soft smiling lips, he slides his tongue along Art’s teeth. Art breathes in and makes the mistake of opening up, which lets Patrick slip his tongue inside, finding Art’s tongue and massaging it with his own. 

Art has mostly stilled but as soon as Patrick starts to pull back ready with the excuses he feels Art’s tongue move, and suddenly he’s licking, tasting, sliding into Patrick’s mouth. He hums as he actively starts to kiss Patrick back. He moves his leg so both of his feet are flat on the floor and his knees are drawn up, Patrick slotting himself naturally between his thighs. Never breaking the kiss. 

He’s not sure how long they kiss, but he does feel it when Art starts to grind, pressing his hips up, using Patrick’s thigh for friction. Letting Patrick to rut against his thigh. Patrick can feel him, he’s legitimately aroused and it makes Patrick dizzy.  Both of them, moaning and breathing heavy into each other’s mouths, the kiss getting sloppy and wet. 

They’re rubbing off on each other clothed, Art in basketball shorts Patrick in his sweatpants, grinding like horny little preteens on the floor of their dorm room. Art comes first, loudly… no longer kissing, just moaning and gasping against Patricks mouth. The hottest thing Patricks ever experienced, his first time doing it with a boy. He already knows he’s gonna jerk off to this memory for years to come.  Patrick blows his load in his boxers like he's 14 or something, while Art’s still coming down, breathlessly against him. 

”Oh fuck,” Art breathes, after they both manage to catch their breath. “I thought I wasn’t your type?”  

Patrick huffs a laugh and rolls over to lie on his back next to Art on the floor. “I thought you were straight.” 

Art rolls on his side and grins at him. “So did I. Guess we were both lying.” 

[jsluvtzu]

late nights

g!p minatozaki sana x fem!reader

summary: you get a taste of her version of an after-party

cw: smut!!! really nasty smut!!!!!, somnophilia, breeding kink, honestly no plot, men dni

wc: 2k

a/n: wrote this while listening to muse by pnd anddd lemme tell yall… this fic is so muse coded

you splashed your face with water one last time, pat drying it with a towel.

it was 11:24 pm on a friday night, and you decided to have a self-care night while your girlfriend drank her life away at a work party.

the song you had playing on the bluetooth speaker paused and got replaced with a now blaring ringtone.

you disconnected your phone from the speaker and answered it to hear the one voice you’ve missed all day.

“y/nnnn, my favorite girl everrr, hiiii”, sana’s slurred words and giggly tone filled the ear you held to your phone.

you chuckled at your girlfriend’s cute greeting, wondering how many shots of soju she’s had already.

“hii cutie, you having fun?”

“mmm i guess.. nayeon unnie keeps crying and telling me how pretty i am.”

you hummed and walked into your shared bedroom, switching the call to speakerphone and placing your phone on the bed.

“what’ve you been up to without me?”

“i just finished getting ready for bed, that’s all.”, you missed being able to have some time to yourself, but you missed your girlfriend more.

“yeah? what else did you do?”

you heard shuffling noises and small grunts over the phone, but thought nothing of it as you took your sleep shorts off, sliding into bed with nothing on other than sana’s oversized tee.

“hmm, i cleaned a little, took a nice, hot shower, did a face mask, and-“

sana interrupted your rambling with louder groans and you finally realized what she was doing.

“mhm, keep talking for me baby.”

your cheeks burned up immediately at the thought of sana touching herself to the sound of your voice.

“sana.. aren’t there people around you right now?”

“i���m in a stall love. don’t worry about me, ‘just wanna hear your pretty voice.”

“why don’t you just come home and let me help you? it’ll feel so much better, i promise.”, your mind getting filled with dirtier thoughts by the minute.

“fuck, i can’t baby, not yet. jeongie wants us to play some dumb drinking game.”

you groaned in annoyance and pulled the comforter higher up your body.

“i know, ‘m sorry baby, i’ll be home in an hour or two, okay?”

“mhm, whatever..”, you knew that was a lie. every time sana went out with her coworkers, it would always be an all night thing.

unfortunately, sana got you all needy for her from just one phone call, but she wasn’t there to help you relieve your urges.

you turned to lay on your side and rubbed your thighs together in an attempt to soothe the throbbing pain between your legs.

“shit, i gotta go y/n, just wait for me. i’ll be home soon and make you feel better, yeah?”

reluctantly, you agreed and hung up the phone, placing it on your nightstand and turning on a random show on the tv, putting the volume on low.

the dim light from the living room was the only source of light that shined through your open door, the warm ambience calming you into a state of drowsiness.

you fought with yourself to keep your eyes open in hopes that sana would actually keep her promise and come home at a reasonable time.

that fight ended rather quickly.

—

several hours had passed when sana finally came home, extremely drunk and horny.

she stumbled her way through the hallways, bumping into anything and everything in sight.

when she got to the doorway of your shared room, she stopped and held the door frame, stabling herself.

she stood there, staring and observing your peacefully sleeping figure.

you were laying stomach faced down and had one leg hanging out of the blanket, ass fully on display for her.

sana pushed herself off the wall and carefully approached the bed, trying her best not to make any noise.

not that it would wake you up anyways, you were always a pretty heavy sleeper.

as she made her way over to you, she kept her eyes locked on your visibly wet pussy, simultaneously slipping out of her leather jacket.

she got close enough to brush her fingers over your ankle all the way up to your waist, and up again to your face, softly caressing your cheek with the side of her finger.

your messy hair covering half your face. your soft, deep breathing and curved figure. you sobered sana up better than a good night’s sleep could.

she had a moment of clarity. never having thoughts any clearer than right now.

she needed to fuck you. just like this.

sana reached her free hand down her crotch to unzip her jeans, fishing her own cock out in hand.

it wasn’t enough to just stand there and stroke herself to the mere sight of you, she needed to use you.

she stood up straight and lifted one leg up and over the bed, clumsily straddling herself over your legs on her knees.

her skinny jeans were limiting her movement, so she pulled them and her boxers further down her thighs, allowing them to pool at her knees.

sana’s cock was hurting at this point, just eager to have your tight walls wrapped around her.

she ran her tip along your puffy folds, collecting your previous arousal on it and mixing it with her leaking precum.

soft moans escaped her lips when she accidentally dipped herself inside you, throwing her head back and biting her lip, relishing the moment.

“fuck y/n, you’ve just been here all wet and ready for me, huh? poor baby must’ve been so tired, she couldn’t even stay up a few more hours.”, sana whispered.

she was mumbling the filthiest things and having a whole conversation with herself.

“i know this is wrong love, i shouldn’t be this hard when i see you laid out like this. lookin’ all pretty for me while you’re sleeping.”

sana slid your shirt up your back as far as she could without lifting your body, losing her grip on reality when she saw the way your back was slightly arched.

“arching for me even in your sleep? fuck baby, you want this. yeah, you were waiting for this. just waiting for me to take advantage of you when you can’t tell me yourself.”

sana rubbed her hands over your ass, gently massaging your flesh.

“ ‘this why you wanted me to come home so bad? so i could fuck you out of your dreams? wake you up with my dick so fucking deep inside your pussy? huh? my pretty girl..”

you let out a small, short grunt, stretching and adjusting your position, still fully asleep.

sana paused her movements in fear that she woke you up before her fun started, but she smiled when she realized you actually had no clue what was going on, subconsciously angling yourself at an even better position for her.

“look at that.. poor needy little thing just begging to be fucked even when she’s unconscious. how cute..”

she tapped her cock up against your clit a couple times before she ran through your slit down to your entrance, inching herself inside.

dragging out her slow thrust, she made sure to feel every single bit of you, taking in how your pussy stretched around her thick, long cock.

she let out a low groan when she hit your cervix, the whole length of her cock disappeared from view.

“shit.. y/n. you take me so fucking well. god, look at you baby.”

she pulled out of you at the same leisurely pace with no struggle, given how wet you already were.

sana lifted up her t-shirt with her left hand, bunching it up just above her breasts, her abs flexing with every breath she took.

her right hand stayed on the small of your back, holding you in place while she teased herself inside of you, thrusting in and out of you painfully slow.

“you feel so good like this, y/n. fuck, you were right. i should’ve just- fuck- came home and let you help me.”

her pace was getting sloppier, words struggling to become coherent.

“still not awake yet, love? better be dreaming of me if you’re sleeping this good.”

sana was closer to cumming than she thought, her neediness getting the best of her.

she leaned over your figure, hands landing on either side of you, lowering herself to fuck you at an insane pace.

“ ‘gna put a fucking baby in this pretty little pussy.”

you heard her voice right in your ear, slightly stirring out of your sleep.

sana moved her hips in an uncoordinated and messy rhythm, her drunkenness still apparent.

her thrusts were heavy, the whole bed shaking when she started fucking into you roughly.

you were almost fully awake now, feeling how full of your girlfriend’s cock you were, moaning lightly at the way sana pushed up against your sweet spot.

“s- sana..”

“aww, is my baby finally up? change your mind?”

sana stopped and waited for your approval, or any sign that you were genuinely uncomfortable.

“no, please. keep going..”

she leaned down to kiss your cheek, moving down to your neck, the smell of alcohol on her breath pungent.

“i knew you wanted it, baby. such a pretty fucking slut for me. you’d let me use you anytime, wouldn’t you?”

your breathy moans and whines encouraged sana to fuck you even faster than before, her growing urge to cum inside you being the only thing on her mind.

sana straightened herself back up and grabbed your hips, pulling you closer to her so that you were supported on your knees, face still down on your pillow.

her bruising grip stayed on both sides of your waist, resuming her animalistic speed.

you clutched onto the sheets below you, screaming out in pleasure into your silk pillow.

sana hated that your moans were muffled, she needed to hear every pretty sound you made.

her right hand left your side and made its way up to your hair, grabbing a fistful of your strands, yanking forcefully until you were flush up against her.

you yelped at her roughness, moaning at the way it turned you on twice as much.

“fuck, sana. just like that, fuck- please don’t fucking stop.”

“yeah? you like it when i fuck you like the toy you are? hm? ‘love it when i use you like a fucking fleshlight. dumb slut can’t even think right when i’m fuckin’ her this good.”

you moaned uncontrollably at sana’s words, your mind going blurrier and blurrier.

both you and sana’s moans were in sync, a perfect harmony.

“shit- i’m so fucking close y/n. ‘gna fucking cum inside you.”

“fuck, please, yes, please, i can take it, ‘just fucking get me pregnant.”

you didn’t even realize what you said, too fucked out to think rationally.

sana was basically growling in your ear, holding you tightly against her with her arms wrapped around your waist.

she let her grip on you go, flipping you over and pushing you down on your back, thrusting into you inhumanly fast.

tears rolled out the corners of your eyes, the pleasure overwhelming you.

sana’s hands wrapped around your throat, her eyes staring deeply into yours and her mouth slightly open, letting out short groans and curses.

“fuck fuck fuck, ‘m gonna cum, oh fuck-“

sana slammed her hips down, stilling her movements and moaning every time her cum pulsed out of her cock.

you felt her warm liquid filling you up, whining at the way her dick twitched inside you.

her hands loosened from your neck, her body crashing down onto yours as she tried to catch her breath.

she didn’t pull out yet, her dick too sensitive to move.

you reached your hands up to her hair, raking your fingers through her tangles, stroking her head gently.

the sleepiness was sneaking its way back to you, your eyes fluttering closed.

after a couple minutes of sana laying on top of you, she pulled out and looked up at you, kissing her way down your body.

she reached your sticky, cum-filled core, hovering over it with hungry eyes.

“let me clean you up, baby.”

you didn’t even care that sana stayed out too late anymore, she definitely made up for it.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

HI ILY!!! i was wondering if u could do a argument fic likeeeee katsuki and reader got into a argument and they are both DISTRAUGHT bc they’re so corny and in love and hate fighting but the argument was bad and they’re oh so sad whatever whatever !! and katsuki has to make it up to them EEE !! PLEASE I LIVE EAT SLEEP AND BREATHE UR FANFICS !! LOVE U CASHHH🤍

operation : trouble in paradise !

katsuki tries to get his boyfriend privileges back..

EEEE TYSM AND I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS ASK !! Its my guilty pleasure like both parties hating to argue bc they love each other so much im so sorry that’s adorable. and again ty SOOO much !!! hope you enjoy, ive actually gotten a similar ask, so that one ill try to have that come out soon !

FEM READER, katsuki is melodramatic, argument, fluff fluff despite argument, 3rd year bk squad boys !, kissing, making up yipeee, reader likes flowers,lemme know if i missed sum else !

“she fuckin’ hates me.”

for the past ten minutes he’d barged into kirishima’s room, bakugou has been moping. wallowing, even.

“no she doesn’t, man..” kirishima reassured. for the umpteenth time, he’s honestly lost count. he’d tried putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder earlier but said boy had shrugged him off angrily, grumbling out a dramatic “don’t touch me.” despite being flopped face down on his bed.

“i know her better, kirishima. yes she does.” the blonde insists, voice muffled by the redhead’s pillows. kirishima sighs, patting his friends leg before making his way to his office chair across from the bed, ignoring the muffled grumbles bakugou lets out.

“how bout you just..go apologize ?”

“i already told you i can’t. she—”

“yeah, she hates you. got it.” kirishima finishes his friends sentence, causing the blond to groan. “look dude, you’ll never know unless you try. you’ve been together for ages now.”

“a year.” katsuki corrects, he purposely forgets to mention he knows exactly how many months it has been too. kirishima nods excitedly, trying to get him out of his frankly sad state. “yeah ! so, this shouldn’t be anything man. arguments happen all the time, no matter how much you love each other.”

katsuki feels his ears burn at the word love on his friends lips, he’s told you he loved you of course. but it still felt weird to acknowledge it.

he turns just enough for his scowl to be visible to his friend, who sends him an encouraging smile.

“so what the fuck do i do then ?” kirishima grins wider, sharp teeth on display. “there we go, that’s more like ya, dude !” he exclaims. he quickly shuffles to grab a notepad strewn onto his messy desk (kirishima’s desk was so messy it made katsuki itch sometimes, a shiver almost passes through him whenever he sees the state it’s in)

kirishima drops onto the floor, placing the notepad onto his mattress and scribbling, with a pen katsuki has no idea where he fished out, a messy “operation: get your bf privileges back !!!!!!” bakugou fixes kirishima with a dead look, the other only tilts his head, still cheerful.

“what ?”

“what the fuck is this, kirishima.”

kirishima scoffs at the blonde’s dead tone, “listen man, you wanna win your girlfriend back or not ?!” bakugou squints at him, hard. but only let’s out a loud sigh. kirishima takes that as his answer and with a nod continues writing down notes.

katsuki groans to himself, looking down at his friend scribbling down his grand plan, and he better hope it works.

maybe you should call him..

no, you won’t. it was his fault you were like this anyway.

..but maybe you went a bit too far..?

ugh. you groan, rolling around in your bed. you’d tried to distract yourself by going through your tiktok feed but it seemed the world was against you or your fbi agent hated your guts. your feed was either overly cutesy couples content that made you miss your angry blond, or break up videos that made you miss him even more.

ugh. you shove your head even harder in your pillows.

you’re really trying to hold your ground, because you want katsuki to know he’d hurt your feelings, but now that you think about it you don’t even remember what you’d argued about. it was petty for sure, you’re about 80% sure it was a petty argument.

maybe you should—

you shake your head, steeling your nerves. so what if it was a dumb argument ?! that didn’t mean he could get away with everything!

“uuuugh,” you groan out loud, you miss your katsuki.

a knock at your door startles you. it must be mina, you’d texted her earlier that you were mad at your boyfriend and she’d told you that she “excepted all the deets of what his dumbass did this time as SOON as i get back !!!!” and you were waiting, maybe venting about it could make you feel better and less dramatic.

you open your door expecting to see your overly excited best friend. but instead—

flowers, almost whacking you in the face you might add, are shoved in your face before you can get a word out. you squeak in shock, they’re pretty though, your favorites. and you know only one person who knows what your favorite flowers are.

“wh-katsuki ?!”

and there he is, red faced and angry. scowl on his face and bouquet of pretty flowers in hand.

you can’t tear your eyes away from him, he can’t keep his eyes in one spot—flying from you occasionally to your door to the flowers and repeat. he blinks, you blink.

“here.” he grunts, waving the flowers towards you. “f’r you.” he glances at you.

“o-oh !” you exclaim suddenly, whisking the flowers towards yourself. the bouquet is big, it’s definitely a bit bigger than your head. katsuki searches your face to gauge your reaction“i—uhm! thank you..” you utter shyly, katsuki grunts. he shoves his hands in his pockets the moment you’ve gripped the bouquet, kicking at something you can’t see on the floor.

your heart skips a beat. tentatively, you lean against the door “didn’t take you for a flower guy..”

he scoffs, kicking the toe of his sneakers against the floor “‘m not.. but you like these, right ?”

trick question. he knows you do, you mentioned in passing these were your favorites, unless you suddenly decided you didn’t like these anymore. then he’s fucked. but he decides to continue despite the worry growing in his lower belly, the plan was already a go now.

“i—uhm, listen..” your boyfriend fumbles, he throws his head back and groans when his words won’t come out right. you give him a tiny smile, his eyes soften just a bit.

“i fucked up, okay ?” he admits, scratching at his nape “shouldn’t have said all that shit to you, or whatever..” you can tell he’s beyond embarrassed. he’d melt if he could get any redder, he keeps scratching and won’t look at you for more than a few seconds at a time and katsuki who’s always the loudest in the room can barely manage a mumble. you know he means it though, he never did anything he didn’t feel like doing. you wait for him to continue and he looks at you then.

“i don’t ever like arguing with you. ever.” he insists “so jus..forgive me, kay ?” he finishes quietly. your heart jumps and leaps and you can’t stand acting cold anymore. you walk a bit closer to him, the flowers block you from fully being close to him.

katsuki’s eyes are wide as you lean in to kiss right next to his lips, you laugh at his bewildered expression and his eyes soften when he snaps out of it. he rolls his eyes, you smile wider.

“i forgive you, i’m sorry too. i don’t like arguing with you either..” you admit, katsuki reaches for your hand, you feel the tips of his fingers brush against your skin, you give it to him and he grips it tight. then he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips, it’s a sweet little apology kiss that turns a bit too passionate after a while, and you pull him towards you and into your room away from prying eyes. katsuki kicks the door shut behind him and pulls you closer by your waist.

“guess i gotta—thank shitty hair..” he mumbles in between kisses, “an’ i owe him twenty bucks.”

you make a noise against his lips and pull away, raising a brow and holding his shoulders when he tries to lean in to kiss you again. “what’s that mean ?”

your boyfriend huffs “told shitty hair i’d give him twenty bucks if his shitty plan worked.”

“plan, what plan ?” you ask, katsuki squints at you, a grumbling noise comes from his throat, almost a whine.

“yer really gonna make me spell it out aren’t you..” he mutter bitterly, shoving his head in your neck. he continues, “shitty hair helped me come up with a plan to make you not mad at me anymore. i told him it wouldn’t work, he said it would, and we bet on it.”

you laugh in disbelief, katsuki chomps at your neck to silence you, squeezes his arms tighter around your stomach to make you wheeze, but you can’t stop laughing. “that’s so cute !”

“shaddup.” he growls in response. you muffle your giggles in his shoulder. katsuki grumbles some more and you run your hands up and down his back.

“well then,” you hum, pressing a kiss to his nape, his arms around you tighten. “i guess we’ll both have to thank kiri then.”