#im sorry my mind is scrambled...

[hermitcraftkinfessions]

I miss Pixl so much.. /fam

I miss him so so much. I hate crying cause sometimes it randomly ends up in regressing and I miss my parents so much.

My chest hurts so much and I just wanna hug him

I don't think I talk enough anywhere about just how close we were back in the day

He genuinly was like a father to me, I dont just say that

- Pearlie🌙(He/She)

fair enough pearl, i understand how hard it is to miss family we're here for you.

[midnightshindig]

hiii this isn’t a request i just wanted to counter ur post abt being a cecil apologist 😭😭 i know cecil isn’t wrong when it comes to his point abt being tje good guys or saving the world. like with how many L’s mark takes i would lowk do the same. but think of it from marks pov it’s hard to just tolerate someone that tried to kill you. cecil just handled the situation very poorly by refusing to communicate properly with mark. nothing extreme would’ve happens if cecil just have mark a two minute lecture on what he went through. and it was extremely unfair of cecil to expect mark to understand something as complex as this after a simple order when it took cecil three years in prison to learn the same thing. i’m not saying cecil is wrong for having a contingency but he’s wrong for immediately whipping it out when he should’ve deescalated 🗿

AHHH this has been in my drafts for WEEKS- oh my god fucking object permanence- what's that?

ugh okay so like this is a long one, everything under this line is the og draft I wrote in its entirety (written like two days after episode 3 dropped):

Okay- I should preface this with: I love arguing on the internet about shit that doesn't matter, your opinions are valid and you're 100% allowed to interpret this piece of media this way.

Okay so now i'm gonna break down season 3 episode 2's conflict between Mark and Cecil and explain myself better;

(preface: I believe strongly in prison reform and am a big advocate that almost all crime is systemic, and that anybody can be rehabilitated. This belief system colors how I interact with media. I'm around Mark's age so I won't use that as an excuse for his character, but I will take it into account)

So episode one kicks off their fight with Mark busting into Cecil's office. It looks like he's gone through the proper channels, and Cecil willingly let him in. Cecil is willing to see Mark, even knowing why he's there (via Darkwing II's warning). Mark bursts in, an aggressive tone, accusatory pointing finger, all at Cecil.

Cecil tells Mark in a stern, warning voice to calm down, Mark responds by approaching more and slamming his hands onto Cecils desk. No matter how you cut it, that's aggressive. Even if you and I know that Mark is a good person, and didn't come here to murder Cecil, that's still an aggressive act.

Mark is clearly upset about D.A. Sinclair, and Cecil gives him a-- very reasonable-- explanation that he can't fix his mistakes in prison. The idea of these people fixing their mistakes is so foreign to Mark-- rehabilitation is such a non-option to him, that he responds with "What are you even talking about?" Anything less than the fairy tale ideal of bad guys rotting mindlessly in prison isn't on the table for Mark. This is because he was raised by Nolan, with a very empirical view of morality and authority. Those who broke the law died or went to prison. End of story.

Mark expresses his disbelief that D.A Sinclair in particular can do good, that his mistakes cannot be rectified due to the continued impact they have on people. Cecil responds to this by assuring him that every reaniman D.A. Sinclair makes is from a donated corpse. He isn't hurting anyone else. It is HEAVILY implied that the "severe psychological reprogramming" Cecil mentions is straight-up psychological torture. Mark just. Isn't listening. He doesn't have the space in his head for an alternative worldview.

To Mark, the last time an authority figure tried to 'broaden his perspective', was when his father pummeled him into a mountain. It makes sense Mark is acting this way, but Mark is a child. Mark's superpowers don't make him qualified to decide right from wrong, Mark is not an elected or chosen official, and he hasn't even really been to college. He doesn't know where the Declaration of Independence is.

Cecil explains his rationale, that these people are repaying their debt. DA Sinclair could be in prison making license plates, or he could be making soldiers that save lives like they do twenty minutes earlier in the same episodes. and Mark's response? "That's bullshit and you know it" Like, not even an argument. He's just, angry. Which is fine! Mark is a teenager grappling with things he shouldn't have to, but that isn't Cecil's fault either.

Cecil tries to get Mark to think differently, asking if he should arrest Mark. This is where we see Mark's tangled internal logic, he can justify it however he wants, but the fact remains that Darkwing II killed for the same reasons Mark did, to ultimately save people and make the world a safer place. Mark didn't have a choice, or he didn't mean to, which is worse?

Cecil extends and olive branch, asking Mark very nicely to go home. Mark doesn't leave. This is a telling moment. Objectively, Cecil doesn't owe Mark anything. He gave him an explanation, he sympathized with Mark's concerns and validated the ethics of his operation. Mark is only able to continue his verbal assault on Cecil because... who's going to stop him? No conversation can happen in good faith under that kind of power dynamic.

ONLY after Mark tells Cecil "uh fuck you I do what I want and I'm not leaving until you do what I say" does Cecil even enter the white room. the room meant exclusively to protect Cecil. EVEN AFTER HES IN THE ROOM, Cecil gives Mark an "out", and tells him to go home before Mark does something he'll regret. It isn't a direct threat, it's simultaneously a threat and a genuine warning. Attacking Cecil starts Mark down a moral path that's hard to turn back from.

I want to note that throughout all of this, Cecil is levelheaded and calm, while Mark is gesturing and aggressive in his stances, and yelling nonstop.

Cecil says "please go" which, knowing Cecil in context of seasons 1 and 2, is likely a genuine plea for Mark to not have to become an enemy. Cecil doesn't WANT Mark to become another aggressive Viltrumite. He asks Mark SO nicely. and Mark is still in his battle stance, unwavering.

On to episode two!

I'm choosing to ignore Cecil's backstory, since this information isn't directly brought up and isn't available to Mark.

Cecil tells Mark the white room is for Cecil's protection, and we get that line again from Mark

"What are you even talking about?"

Mark is so insular, so isolated in his worldview that he cannot comprehend that yeah, duh, a totally normal old man would find it TERIFYING that you, a viltrumite teenager, are encroaching on him with aggressive body language and a raised voice. Me? I'd be fucking terrified. My boyfriend is like 6 5" and built like a fridge, he's strong as shit and has been since he was a kid. One of the things intimidating strong people learn is that they have to watch themselves, when you're so much stronger than everyone else, you don't get to show up and throw your arms around and yell and scream and point fingers when you're mad. It's unfair to Mark, but it's terrifying to Cecil. And Mark isn't even self-aware enough to know how scary he is on a conceptual level. He's so emotionally removed from what a viltrumite even is that he can't comprehend that he's capable of the same damage his father did to Chicago.

Cecil tries to explain this concept to Mark, and Mark responds with "Okay but I ONLY use my powers for good", he isn't able to even CONSIDER that to anybody who isn't him, that's not a guarantee. Omniman was good until he wasn't. Who's to say it couldn't happen again? Notice how not a single reaniman touches Mark in this scene. This is important for later.

Cecil is banking on his authority as an adult, lecturing Mark like a bratty child, with his hand on his hip. He can't show Mark the amount of power he has over Cecil or Mark WILL take advantage of it. There can't be a world where a nineteen-year-old strongarms a military official. Not to Cecil. Cecil calls Mark on his shit, and shames him for abusing his power and being closeminded, then he shares a vulnerability. Mark is scaring the shit out of him right now.

Mark responds by freaking out more, and the SPECIFIC LILT OF HIS VOICE- ugh. It reminds me of when later in the season when Mark is scolding Oliver. "I'm not even doing anything!!" while throwing his arms in the air in his superhero suit, eyebrows furrowed and his voice like a whiny child being told to knock it off.

He approaches Cecil, and a reaniman grabs him by the arm. This is meant to detain Mark, NOT hurt him.

Mark responds by going "you're not the boss of me" (in effect, not direct language) and SMASHES THE REANIMAN.

I have beef with the whole "Cecil doesn't try an talk to Mark" angle, Cecil is watching Mark crash and burn through the creatures he EXPLICITLY says are only meant to protect him, and offers to talk to Mark. He tells Mark that he isn't keeping his operations a secret from anyone within his facilities, that this is par for the course within the GDA, and this is his attempt to de-escalate. Calm down, this isn't a fight worth having, let's just talk.

MARK engages this fight, MARK refuses to talk. The scene of Mark post-destroying the reanimen is almost a one-to-one of the s1e1 frame of Nolan after killing the guardians. This is a direct parallel. There needs to always be a bigger fish.

and instead of continuing to argue about the actual issue, instead of bringing up DA Sinclair or Darkwing or actually trying to be productive, or demanding Cecil go public. He asks

"Is that all you got?"

at this point Mark is picking a fight, and making it clear that this is now an aggressive encounter. He's demanding Cecil show him everything in his arsenal, implying no matter what it is, Mark will mow it down and get to Cecil.

I am FLOORED by the way Cecil says "I wish you hadn't asked that, kid."

NOTE Cecil calling Mark, kid. he's still offering him the grace of being considered a foolish kid and not an intentionally menacing adult. Adults don't get to be this type of threat, they don't get extended the grace a rowdy teenage rebel does. Cecil is offering another olive branch to Mark, so that he can still turn away and be protected under the 'kid' moniker.

and we get the reveal of a room FULL of reanimen. Who didn't move until initiated. Who Mark plows through like nothing.

Mark threatens Cecil, and Cecil calls him out on his hypocrisy "I thought you don't do threats?"

Mark, AGAIN, instead of being able to recognize conflicting world views or broaden his perspective, bitterly and dismissively goes "Yeah? Well people change."

WHICH IS FUCKING INFURIATING

especially since twenty minutes ago Mark was arguing that people CANT change and that trying to change bad people was a worthless pursuit.

Cecil warns him literally "Don't, Mark, i'm warning you."

at this point Cecil has told Mark to stand down or else, SO MANY TIMES, slowly increasing the severity of the defense mechanisms.

I find it VERY interesting that Cecil explains, in detail, what and why Mark is being hurt. He gives Mark all the information on his earpiece. Why? For power. To show Mark exactly what is happening and that he can't stop it. Mark needs a taste of powerlessness, to curb the unchecked God complex he's struggling with. There needs to be a bigger fish. Then Cecil releases the mind fuck thing. and tells him to be reasonable and go home

Marks response? "We are so far past reasonable"

WE. We are so far past reasonable. This shows that Mark is lumping himself in with Cecil, that somewhere in him he knows this is insane, jumping and cornering a man like this? This isn't right. He knows that.

But he also makes it clear to Cecil that this is now something Mark has to "see through" and not something he's willing to talk about.

Mark hasn't mentioned DA Sinclair or Darkwing once in episode 2, it's not even the core focus anymore

now, to Mark, it's about power. It's about Cecil acting like he has authority and power over Mark, and like any other teenager who feels like their opinion is being ignored, he lashes out

but again. When you're god, you don't get to lash out.

Cecil is TERRIFIED. I hear a lot of "Cecil wasn't mature enough" BROTHER IS FEAR. bro probably pissed his pants.

Cecil explains to Mark WHY he puts it in his head, that he still believes Mark isn't his dad, so stop acting like him. Cecil keeps giving Mark out after out, olive branch on the olive branch. And Mark is so caught up in his own sense of ego and power and betrayal that he feels truly helpless for the first time since season one, can't even hear him. He doesn't even let Cecil finish his sentence.

I find it very interesting that Mark goes to the GHQ, knowing they're on Cecil's payroll. Mark really has nobody else to turn to. He goes, specifically, to Rudy. He trusts that Rudy will do the right thing and help him.

Cecil immediately tries to disengage the guardians, saying he isn't going to kill the kid. Note the repeated use of kid. Kid is affectionate. I'm not going to kill the kid, it implies that he still has some kind of emotional attachment, killing a kid would be insane, it shows he's still extending that protection that being called a kid offers. even now, Cecil is offering him an olive branch.

Cecil tells Mark he's coming back to the GDA, and only when Mark refuses three times does Cecil use force. It seems brutal, like, stuff in his brain? How AWFUL. but also? There's not really any other way to hurt the guy.

Only once Mark has proven REPEATEDLY that not only is he not open to discussion, he isn't even open to peace, does Cecil enact any true violence against him.

Cecil calls Mark an "arrogant little asshole" and calls him on his hypocritical bullshit. and then Mark chokes him so hard he coughs up blood.

You can argue about the semantics of who is right morally, but Cecil made every attempt to calmly engage Mark, escalating slowly and only in response to the threat levels he perceived in Mark. To criticize Cecil for not being calmer or not deescalating undermines the point of why he does it: He's human. He's scared. Of course we can sit here and say, oh Cecil should've told him, or Cecil should've blah blah blah

Cecil doesn't report to Mark. Mark isn't the law, he doesn't get to decide the law any more than any other civilian does. Cecil doesn't owe Mark shit past basic decency, and he gives him that, Cecil gives Mark more grace than I would have. And we know his fears aren't baseless, either, the second Cecil stops defending against Mark, MARK CHOKES HIM SO HARD HE COUGHS UP BLOOD. It's a huge purple bruise on his throat.

but Mark is a child who has no business putting himself above the law and above peaceful conversations. He could've told others without directly confronting and attacking Cecil. Mark could have demanded answers, and then gone and acted on his own. He could've contacted local police, the news, the GotG, anyone else to make this a more fair protest of Cecil's actions. But Mark knows he's hot shit. He knows that- up until episode two- he was untouchable. and he flagrantly abuses this power. All Cecil does is respond.

and still continue to offer him grace, up until he just can't.

Uh thank you for coming to my ted talk <3

[monamipencil]

— debauched | ft. stepbro! mingyu

⋆ pairings; mingyu x fem! reader ⋆ genre; smut ⋆ w.c; 4.5k+ ⋆ warnings; stepbrother! mingyu, gyu wears glasses (yes this is a warning), debauchery, oral (f.receiving), mate press, raw sex, creampie, dubcon, fucking while parents are in the room, fingering, handjob, pussy slapping, jealousy, mingyu is kinda toxic, panty stealing, somnophilia, spitting kink, exhibitionism, doggy, choking, public indecency, mentions of food ⋆ a/n; im so sorry for this monstrosity. i was possessed and i refuse to do damage control 😌 (thanks to @miabebe for assisting my lunacy and giving me ideas lol.)

“fuck, you can't do this to me.”

“i can't do what to you?” you question your step-brother as he follows you into the bathroom. you don't mind it and grab your toothbrush and the paste.

“this,” he gestures towards you, more specifically the nightwear you're wearing. a cute cropped tank top with a matching pair of underwear. it's patterned with little flower prints and lined with lace.

“i'm not doing anything. not my fault you're a horn dog.”

you don't entertain him any more and brush your teeth. and neither does he, opting to grind himself on you. his hard-on presses on your ass and his hands wander all over you, skating over your skin with experienced expertise.

you give into his wishes and bend over a bit while going on with your night routine. his calloused hands slip under your top, and squeeze your tits. your nipples pebble under his touch, complying to his wishes just the same. he pinches the buds with urgency, just the way his hips grind on yours.

without much reaction, you continue brushing. but your body is growing hot with every second, and the need to have him inside you is insatiable. you wish your dad never married his mom for various reasons, and this is one of them.

“y'smell so good.” he slurs, sniffing your neck like a hound dog. his tongue traces your jugular, tasting your sweet perspiration. one of his hands travel down south, toying with hem of your panty—

knock, knock.

mingyu throws himself off you, startled by whomever was on the outside.

“honey, are you in there?” your dad's voice resonates through the door and you give him a gargled ‘yes.’ he wishes you a good night and walks off.

mingyu takes it as a cue to use the other door, connected to his bedroom and enters it. through the closed door, you hear dad checking upon him before he walks away again.

with a sigh, you rinse your mouth. and an examination of your panty reveals a soaked patch staining it. with annoyance and longing in the mix, you discard the cloth into the laundry hamper.

[ ... ]

the creak of the floorboards stir you awake and your eyes fall on a figure standing in front of you. startled, you turn on the lights and scramble to protect yourself.

only to be met with the sight of mingyu, holding your panty to his nose as he squeezes himself through his grey sweatpants. the outline of his cock is visible through the cloth. your mouth salivates and your eyes snap up to his. his dark eyes look down at you through his glasses, the depravity of his thoughts seen through his gaze.

mingyu doesn't say anything and hooks his hand underneath your knees and pulls you to the edge of the bed. in one swift go, your panties are gone, causing you to yelp in surprise. feeling shy with the sudden exposure, you close your legs.

he moves to your wardrobe, quickly retrieving a tie from there.

“gyu, no.” you warn but he doesn't listen. despite your protests, he ties up your hands behind your back. you sigh in defeat, “but you should stop when i tell you to.”

“i know.” his deep voice sends a frenzy in your stomach and your legs part on their own.

he licks your lips, invading them with ease. his boner prods your thighs as he makes out with you. you cant your hips, chasing some of that delicious friction. mingyu tuts in response and looks down to where you're desperately grinding against him.

he descends down, skating his lips and teeth over the skin of your neck and torso. warm breath greets your sensitive skin that's coated with arousal. he kisses the plump flesh of your thighs, ghosting his canines over them.

he slowly reaches your core and gives it a kitten lick. you whine, and buck your hips up. flame licks your skin and the lewdness of the situation makes you desperate.

when his lips meet your cunt, it's unexpected. a loud gasp tears from your lips at the force of it. he places an open mouth kiss to your heat and his hands force your legs as apart as possible.

his tongue glides over your cunt, licking up your arousal. it's nothing soft or sweet, only rough and desperate. he sucks and slurps on your whole, sending waves of pleasure through your body. he shakes his head side to side, tongue prodding at your folds.

it's impossible to contain your moans but you try your best. the cold plastic of his glasses kiss your skin whenever you try to close your legs. he eats you out like a starved dog.

your hole clenches around nothing and mingyu fills it with his tongue. he pushes his tongue in and out of you, the wet sounds of which fills the room. the sensation causes your hips to buck up into his face.

“ah!” you moan, loudly. you just don't find it in yourself to care anymore when he thumbs your clit. he pulls away, a string of spit connecting his lips to your cunt. you look down to find him staring at you over his fogged up glasses. it slid down, letting you see his eyes uncovered.

he spits on your cunt, the warm glob drips down your folds as he maintains eye contact with you. he licks up a large stripe, savoring your taste on his tongue. his tongue prods at your hole again and he fills you up. but this time, it's slower.

your gummy walls clench around his tongue, overstimulated by his thumb on your clit. your moans echo through the room again and a knot builds in your stomach. mingyu picks up his pace, returning to slurping your cunt.

the knot gets tighter and tighter, till it breaks, leaving you a babbling and trembling mess. you black out from the intensity of the orgasm and your moans cease.

mingyu licks up your climax, not wasting a drop of it. with a final kiss to your clit, he pulls away. as much as he wants to split you open on his cock now, he can't. he respects your wishes but that doesn't stop him from leaving a present for you.

he pumps his twitching cock to the sight of you. it doesn't even take a minute till he's moaning your name and spilling his seed on your thighs and stomach. he wants to finish inside you and see his load spill out of your pretty lips but he decides it for another day.

squelch.

you shift.

more wet squelches resonate from beneath the blanket you're sharing with your stepbrother. your lips shudder as you release a sharp breath.

a family movie night. it was what it was supposed to be. that is, till your parents fell asleep and mingyu sneaked his hand inside your shorts as you both sit on the couch.

two of his fingers are buried up to the hilt in your cunt, slowly drilling in and out of you. but it isn't enough and you want more, need more. your hands venture to find his cock beneath his pants. he simply spares you a glance before focusing on the movie again.

with a cautious glance to your dad and his mom, you tilt your head, pressing small kisses to his neck. his adam's apple bobs when you lick the column of his throat.

your hand finds his hardness beneath his underwear. wrapping your hand around the base, you pump him slowly. when your hand glides up to his tip, you rub your thumb over it, smearing the pre cum all over. a low hiss fills your ear and you smirk as he bucks into your hand.

you continue to kiss and bite his tan skin. his breathing turns sporadic, abdomen clenching with restraint. you're caught off-guard when he picks up his pace and curls his fingers against your sweet spot. you gasp, and clench around him.

“look at the tv.” he teethes your earlobe, hot breath ghosting over your neck. goosebumps prickle all over your skin when his canines brush against your skin.

“you both still awake?” the voice startles you and you try to remove your hand from beneath his pants but mingyu stops you. he wraps his other hand over yours, and guides in pumping his cock.

“yeah, we're gonna finish it.” he answers his mom who searches for her glasses while mingyu adjusts the blanket. when she puts it on, everything seems fine and well. she smiles at you both and wakes up your father to move him to the bedroom.

all while mingyu's jerking himself off with your hand and curling his fingers against your sweet spot. she wishes a goodnight, and you respond in unison. the moment her bedroom door locks, he pulls the blanket off.

your clothes along with his joins the blanket on the couch. he relaxes on the couch and makes you straddle him. his cock pokes your cunt, twitching with need. his hands perch on your hips as he guides you slowly down his cock.

“fuck,” he groans, seeing his cock disappear into your cunt.

you take purchase on his shoulders while preparing to ride him. broken moans fall from his lips as you start to bounce. his hands slide down to your ass, and he gropes and massages them.

in a hope to tone down his moans, he connects his lips to yours. tongue meets tongue as your moans mix together, creating a lewd symphony. your thighs slap against his and your arousal drips down his cock to his balls.

his cock splits you open deliciously. the swollen tip hits all the right spots with precision. he fits perfectly with you, like two puzzle pieces. the kiss turns sloppy and messy. your tongue glides over his and your spit mixes with his. you taste his lewd noises on your tongue, a fuel to ride him with more energy.

your pulse beats in your cunt, and you're clenching around him in no time. mingyu does his best and meets your hips with urgency. his lips wrap around your pebbled nipple, sucking with a fervor.

soon, only his hips are moving as he holds you still against him. his strong arms wrap around you, hips drilling into yours every millisecond. but his thighs tremble, giving away his approaching orgasm.

his movements turn sloppy and his moans louder. awareness seeps into your mind when you realise you both could be caught easily. somehow, it only arouses you further. you move against him desperately, feeling his cock kiss all the right places.

you grind against him, chasing friction. sensing your neediness, he slips his hand between your bodies. his thumb circles your clit and he takes your nipple into his mouth again. your nerves fire up, overwhelmed by the attention on your body.

your cunt clenches around his twitching cock. he whines your name with more urgency and you do the same. “fuck, mingyu.”

the orgasm washes over you with an intensity that makes you quiver in his hold. with you wildly clenching around him, he meets his climax as well. he doesn't pull out and warm ribbons of cum spill inside you.

“mingyu!” you gasp in shock but he shushes you with a kiss. his tongue slips past your lips, eager to suck on yours. he holds you still and empties his load inside you. your initial protest melts away as lust seeps into your skin again.

you feel so dirty but so, so good.

mingyu shuts the tv off and picks up the clothes, all while staying inside you. a surprised gasp falls from your lips when he picks you up and walks to his room. there, you fall asleep in his arms with his cock still buried deep inside you.

mingyu's vision turns green when he sees you laughing and chatting with your guy ‘friend.’ since when did you invite your guy friends to dinners at home?

he makes sure that he does not like that guy. didn't even bother learning his name. a seat draws abruptly and four pairs of eyes settle on mingyu. “dessert anyone?”

all except your dad agrees. “wait, take your sister with you. i don't want any broken dishes tonight.”

he doesn't spare you a glance and walks to the pantry. you follow him to choose whatever fits your appetite. maybe, you should've known better than to stay in a room alone with mingyu.

the moment the pantry door is shut, he's all over you.

“mingyu—stop, others are out there.” you gasp, feeling him shift his entire weight on you.

a low scoff resonates from his chest, “you didn't care about others during our parent's wedding.”

the recall of the memory sets your nerves on fire. fuck. of course, he pulled that card.

there's no use in resisting him. especially when your body is screaming at you to submit to him. his hands itch to tear off the pretty dress you're wearing, but he decided against it.

instead, he lifts up your dress and yanks down your pretty matching underwear. a condescending chuckle resonates from his throat, “you sure you just brought him over for dinner?”

his eyes turn a shade deeper when a thought strikes him.

“or, did you already fuck him?”

his tone sends a wave of arousal through your body. you felt like a prey being cornered by a predator. his gaze is animalistic as he looks down at you, his glasses slipping off his nose once again.

“no, no! we didn't-i didn'—”

you're cut off when he slots his lips on yours. that alone is enough to elicit a moan from you. “good girl,”

he backs away from you but keeps his hand under your dress, slowly hiking it up further till your glistening pussy greets his eyes. a sadistic grin stretches on his lips as he watches arousal drip from your cunt.

he collects the fluid and smears them on your cheeks and lips, earning a whine from you.

“mingyu, they'll be suspicious if we're gone for too long.”

“and?”

a sharp sting shoots through your core. it takes some seconds for you to realise that he slapped your cunt. your jaw falls slack in shock but mingyu isn't deterred. he looks at you with hooded eyes as he delivers another slap to your cunt.

you're embarrassingly wet now and it drips down your thighs. mingyu licks his fingers before slapping your core again. a few more slaps has you whining and trembling. your cunt only gets more and more wet with each slap.

“you,” slap,

“are,” slap,

“mine.” slap.

he pokes his cheek with his tongue when you don't respond. a tut from his lips brings you back from euphoria and you stare at him with wide eyes. he roughly yanks you closer, one hand on the small of your back while another squeezes your cheek together.

you whine, more needy than ever. he shushes you, brushing his thumb over your lip. “it's ok, i can forgi—”

“spit in my mouth.”

he takes a few seconds to decipher what you said, so you repeat it. with more desperation. “mingyuu, spit in my mouth. please!”

smugness fills his veins, and he's more than happy to oblige. he collects his saliva and spits it in your mouth when you push your tongue out with your eyes rolled back.

but your bliss is cut short when he places some dessert in your hand, nodding at you to go back. “and, i'm keeping this.” he pockets your panty and follows behind you.

your hand clasps the knob when he delivers a sharp slap to your ass. “fast. you wanna get caught or somethin’?”

you were more than confused when mingyu sent a text that your ‘guy friend’ was waiting at home for you. given that, it's been a week since that dinner incident and you haven't even spoken to your friend since then.

but, you're not confused anymore. not when mingyu has you on all fours, pounding your cunt as your ‘friend’ watches.

your wanton moans sync with the lewd skin slaps. his hands perch on your hips, maneuvering your body to his needs. heavy balls slap against your clit, providing you the utmost pleasure.

the fact that someone else is witnessing this debauchery doesn't bother you. in fact, it arouses you and floods your cunt with wetness. and because your parents are out of town, it gives you the freedom to be as loud as you can.

you arch your back, leaning into all of his touches. his hand ascends to your neck, fingers hooking into your hair. you yelp when he tugs on it, the sharp sting is delicious through your lust haze and you moan louder.

he releases his grip, opting for a painless grip—his fingers wrap around your nape. the other still perches on your hips as he continues to pound you into the next dimension.

much to mingyu's amusement and annoyance, that guy's pumping his cock to the scene in front of him. with a roll of his eyes, he fucks your harder, with more force in his thrusts.

his movements are fluid. anyone can tell that this isn't a first for you both, that you've fucked multiple times before. he lands a slap on your ass, groping and spreading your cheeks.

even though, he's been fucking you straight for the past twenty minutes, he doesn't feel his climax anywhere near. so he arches your back and puts you in a chokehold. his biceps tighten around your neck, veins visible and pulsing with adrenaline.

“fuck! fuck! mingyu, please—” loud, lewd moans fill his ears and he savors each syllable that falls from your lips. it pushes him to fuck you harder and harder, till you completely fall apart in his arms. till your mind melts, and all you can remember is him. only him.

you scream, the orgasm washing over you unexpectedly. you tremble in his hold, sensitive from your climax. but mingyu isn't done. he pushes you onto the mattress and you grip the duvet with the energy left in you.

mingyu abuses your hole, thrusting sharply as his orgasm creeps closer. his balls slap against your clit, aiding in your overstimulation. with another sharp thrust, he cums inside you. a loud groan rumbles from his chest, letting the voyeur in your room know that he's reached his climax.

he pulls out and with that, his load also spills out. mingyu falls on the bed next to you, heaving for breath. another moan resonates in the room, and he lifts his head to look at the guy with a raised eyebrow. ah, right.

with a grin, mingyu walks towards him. although he's smiling, it's anything but friendly.

“listen, if any of this gets out—”

their conversation falls out of your earshot when your stepbrother starts whispering into his ears. but it isn't a mystery that he's threatening him. you don't bother with it much and fall asleep, feeling more spent than ever.

a memory plays out in your dreams, one that feels much more like the latter than the former.

[THE DAY OF YOUR PARENT'S WEDDING]

you groan out of annoyance and scream into your hands. nothing seems to be working your way today.

the heater doesn't work. your dad is marrying someone else, just six months after the divorce. your cereals were soggy. and, now you can't zip your fucking bridesmaid dress.

a knock on the door refocuses your attention. through the mirror, you see mingyu standing near the door. embarrassment shoots through your veins but you feign a smile and turn to look at him. before both of you can exchange words, his mother comes up.

“hi dear! oh, you look absolutely lovely.” she smiles at you, a genuine one. but you don't feel it in you to reciprocate it. you muster up your best smile and thank her, telling her the same.

“aww, thank you. oh, right! mingyu here said that he wanted to speak with you.”

your heart drops down to your stomach. ah, how could you forget your soon-to-be step brother from your list of mishaps? he isn't exactly mean or nice. he just acts as if you don't exist. and it hurts, especially when you feel such an attraction towards him.

you see him protest back, spitting something along the lines of “i never said that,” it worsens your nerves. she snaps at him, giving him a glare and you a smile. your heart palpitates when his mother closes the door and locks it.

mingyu doesn't say anything, instead takes time to compose himself. meanwhile, you contemplate on how to zip up your dress without further embarra— “need help with the zipper?”

“huh? ye-yes.” well, shit.

he stalks towards you and you turn around, involuntarily. you move your hair out of the way for him. he places one of his hands on the exposed skin of your neck and the other zips up your dress, albeit slowly.

and you swear on god that he caresses your skin while doing so. but you sum it up to your horny brain playing tricks on you. “thank you,” you whisper, meeting his eyes through the mirror.

“you're welcome.” his deep timbre voice shoots arousal down to your core and your body raises in temperature.

he inhales sharply before muttering, “mom wants me to get along with you.”

“but i don't want to.”

it stings. more than you'd like to admit. he continues, not giving you a chance to respond. “i don't want them to marry. i suppose you don't either. and i certainly don't want to follow whatever fucking rules they say.”

his eyes are trained on you the entire time, and you maintain it. even though, your nerves are all over the place and you're trying really hard to focus on his eyes and not lips.

“we could be good friends,” he suddenly moves closer. much closer. his body presses against yours and his hands settle on your hips. his chin rests on your shoulder and he maintains eye contact through the mirror. “only, if you can obey somethings.”

that tingles your stomach and you're more than intrigued to know what he means.

“like what?”

he smirks and breaks eye contact to look at you, rather than your reflection. “like that i'd rather be your fuckbuddy than your stepbrother.”

mingyu's heart paces on its own and he prays to god that he didn't hallucinate the way you look at him sometimes. where your eyes drift and the emotion swirling behind them. his assumptions are affirmed true when you arch your back, pressing your ass against his crotch.

he tries to control his smile and maintain his image to you. which proves to be very hard when you whine so cutely, “oh, fuck me.”

the zipper he'd just done comes undone as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses all over your nape and the exposed skin of your back. he presses his hard-on against your ass, feeling his cock sink into the plush flesh of—

“you both have better made friends!”

he pushes away from you, but not before he zips your dress. he fixes his suit, and you pat down the perspiration on your face. she unlocks the door and smiles at you both.

“look at you both! aww,” she engulfs you both in a hug, and you pray to god she doesn't feel your palpitating heart.

[...]

the elevator dings open and whoever was on the other side lets out a surprised noise and scrambles away. but you don't give a fuck neither does mingyu.

his tongue glides over yours in a hot, deep kiss, such that your faces are obscured to anyone who can stumble upon you. the heat of his body seeps into you, driving you absolutely crazy.

the elevator dings again, the automated doors opening to the floor of your room. his hands are all over your body and so are his lips. he nibbles on your ear lobe and neck, licking the patches of red he leaves behind.

you swipe the key card with much effort and finally get in. mingyu pins you to the door as soon as you get in, grinding his hard on against your stomach. he reconnects his lips with yours, humming in content.

the bed creaks with each of his thrusts. surely, there would be complaints from the neighbors but could care less about everything else. your mind can only focus on mingyu's cock drilling in and out of you.

mingyu's addicted to the image of you writhing in pleasure, underneath him. and the bulge of his cock that appears whenever he thrusts does little to soothe aching desire.

his balls slap your ass with each heavy thrust. your breaths mingle together as he splits you open on his cock. his canines ghost over your neck, and he sinks them into your skin, wanting to see how it looks. how you'd look with his mark.

you look perfect, he thinks, absolutely drunk on the idea of making you his.

it pushes him to fuck you harder. he pushes your knees on either side of your head, drilling his cock inside you deeper and deeper. your moans turn into screams with the drive of his cock. his leaking cock is buried to the hilt, hitting your sweet, spongy spot now and then.

you lose the ability to form coherent sources. only babbles and whines fall from your lips, absolutely drunk by his cock. mingyu adds to it by reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. the delicious friction has you mewling and canting your hips.

your nails rake his back as he continues to pound your cunt with all of his strength. that combined with the clit stimulation makes you sob and squirm underneath him. your legs quiver and toes curl. your breathing turns rapid and the knot in your abdomen gets tighter.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!”

he presses your knees further down, fucking you with much ardour. tears stream down your face and broken sobs tear from your throat. mingyu licks your tears, and stares at you, drinking the sight beneath him. his cock twitches when you look up at him, “shit.”

your hips lift off the bed and legs tremble more than ever. you gasp loudly when you cum. the orgasm crashes over you, making your body a quivering mess. you see stars and you feel as if you're not on earth anymore, as if you're in heaven. mingyu brought heaven down to you.

you only realise that he pulled out when you feel his weight on your body. his body quivers just the same as yours, breathing rapidly and consciousness in another dimension. he rolls off you, lying on the spot next to you.

warm cum decorates your abdomen and it feels so right but so wrong.

“thanks,” you blurt out, regretting it immediately. he chuckles, “for what?”

[NOW]

“everything.” you mumble in your sleep and mingyu glances at you with confusion. you mutter more things and it causes him to chuckle. he pinches your cheek and kisses it.

his hand caresses your back as he cuddles you. it somehow feels right despite the moral restrictions. but he doesn't care, not when you look so peaceful, curled up on his side.

it may be debauched, but it sure as hell is his heaven.

[sleeplessdove]

— bubble pop electric !

♡ perv!dealer! e. williams x fem! reader

synopsis: you’re at the drive in with your new dealer, what could go wrong?

a/n: just a writing warm up im sorry

warnings: not proofread we die like laura palmer, dealer ellie, weed usage, heavy intoxication kink, perv behavior, stalking somewhat, public sex, degrading, praising, pet names, toxic ellie my beloved, dubious consent, fingering (r! receiving), loser ass ellie, sorta scent kink i guess, manipulation, sex while intoxicated, mentions of further sex lol maybe a pt 2 is coming, probably lots more so proceed with caution !!!

wc: 5k

The sound of your ringtone echoed through your bedroom, making you perk up from where you were seated on your bed. 

She’s right on time, 7:30 on the dot ! 

You hadn’t been expecting her to show up when she had said she would, as your friends that bought their weed supply from Ellie often complained that she showed up whenever she wanted. Then again, she also swore she didn’t do drop offs for anyone and yet she had immediately offered to stop by your place to deliver everything you had asked for. 

She had joked with you over text that it was only because you were a first time customer, she had to make a good impression after all. 

Either way, you weren’t one to question good things so you quickly scrambled out of your bed before texting her that you would be out in a second. 

You tucked your cash into your waistband with shaking fingers, your nerves tingling as you made your way towards the front door with long strides. 

Fuck, why were you so nervous? It’s not like you were doing anything inherently wrong— you just wanted to relax and stop bumming off your other friends' joints by ensuring you had your own stuff to smoke. 

Maybe it was Ellie’s reputation, as you had barely interacted with her besides the small nod she’d give you when she spotted you at parties of mutual friends. She kept to herself for the most part, but that didn’t stop you from hearing about how she was fucking half the girls at the college you both attended. 

And from what you heard, she was good at what she did with those other women. It wasn’t at all hard to believe, as she had a certain way about her that drew you in and you were sure many others felt the same. When she texted you back, even just asking you to specify what exactly you wanted to buy from her, you found yourself smiling at your phone. 

It was the little nicknames, the way she seemed genuinely interested in giving you the best experience possible as a first time buyer. But you had to reason with yourself, reminding yourself that she was just trying to make a sale so of course she was going to be a little sweet on you. 

Even with a rational mind, you couldn’t help but take in a shaky breath as you stepped out into the cool air of the night, spotting Ellie’s car not too far away. You gave a small nervous wave as you walked towards your car before you silently cursed yourself for the embarrassing gesture. 

Despite it, you opened the passenger door of her car and got in, just as she had told you to do over text. Immediately, you picked up on the scent of weed— good weed clinging to the air along with the warm scent of whatever expensive cologne she was wearing. The smell seemed to calm your nerves enough that you were able to give a soft smile. 

“Hey, thanks for coming by. I fucked up my tires last week and you know how expensive that is so I’ve just been—“ you begin to ramble due to how anxious you feel, but when your eyes flicker towards her amused expression you quickly cut yourself off. 

“Sorry” you say with a small laugh, placing your hands on your lap and smoothing out the material of your skirt to soothe yourself. Ellie is quick to shake her head, offering you a smile that makes the corner of her eyes crinkle ever so slightly . 

“What’re you apologizing for, sweet girl?” she questions, all too relaxed. The pet name alone had you feeling dizzy with unexpected emotions. You only give a slight shrug of your shoulders, attempting to appear just as relaxed as Ellie does. “Uhm– I just, I mean you don’t care about that stuff” you mutter with a sheepish smile, fumbling with your skirt for a moment before you pull out the cash you had been saving for this very occasion. 

You hold it out to her as if it were some sort of peace offering, but Ellie lightly shakes her head and pushes your hand away gently, rejecting the money you had saved up for weeks. “You think I don’t care?” she questions, blatantly ignoring the fact that she was  supposed to be your dealer and nothing more. The odd question makes you falter for a moment, unsure of how you’re meant to respond. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I just don’t think you wanna hear me rambling on” you mutter, your voice far softer than intended. Although it seems as if you picked the correct answer, as Ellie’s grin only seems to widen. “It’s important for me to care about my customers, isn’t it?” she jokes, pleased with herself as she watches you relax in the slightest bit from her playful tone. “I guess so” you say with a breathy laugh, feeling the tension in your body slowly melting away. 

“Is this not enough or…?” you begin, looking down at the money that was still held loosely in your hand, as if you were expecting her to tell you that her prices had suddenly gone up. “First time customer means you get it for free” she says smoothly, reaching into the backseat to grab the baggy she had made just for you. An assortment of homemade edibles and prerolls filled the baby pink baggie she had placed them in, although you had only requested prerolls. 

Your eyes were wide as you looked between her and the goods she had prepared just for you, as if you were a deer with headlights staring back at you. From what you had heard, Ellie didn’t fuck around when it came to her money. She wanted on time payments or even payments in advance, she was a business woman after all. It was hard for you to fathom such a concept, as you were unused to such kindness, especially from someone with her reputation. 

But despite your lack of knowledge of her, Ellie knew all about you. She had spent months slowly befriending your friends just so you would feel comfortable enough to buy from her. Not that she liked selling to any of your friends, but she would do anything to get closer to you. There was no rhyme or reason for her infatuation, and she chose not to question the way she felt about you. 

“I couldn’t– I mean, I can’t” you begin, shaking your head but Ellie is quick to cut you off. “I just want you to test it out, don’t worry about it” she says in a voice that leaves no room for argument. You wanted to object, but you knew there was no point at all. So you simply tuck the cash back in your waistband, offering her a bright smile. 

“You’re not like people say you are” you say without even thinking, inwardly cringing at your choice of words the second you register what you had said to her. She doesn’t seem offended, although she raised a curious brow. “What do people say I’m like?” she questions, not at all seeming offended. 

Ellie knew she had a rather harsh personality with others, but she hadn’t expected that information to reach you. It was as if her plot was falling apart right before her eyes, and yet she had to keep up her laid back facade. “Mm, I don’t know. You’re just– different than what they say” you respond, not really wanting to explain to her that everyone called her a bitch and those who didn’t only spoke highly of her because they had slept with her. 

She doesn’t press the issue, nodding a bit and thanking god that you weren’t threatened by her presence like you used to be. Before you even get the chance to pluck the baggie from her hands, she speaks up once more. 

“You got someone to smoke this with? S’ pretty strong… and if you need someone to make sure you don’t go overboard or anything–” she begins, and you could swear for a moment her voice cracks from nerves. She is so concerned with your wellbeing and for whatever reason it made you blush, your face growing warmer with each passing second. “My place is kind of a mess right now” you tell her in a somewhat disappointed voice, as some part of you ached to be alone with her for a while longer, even if it was just because she didn’t want you to end up greening out. 

“Well we could go to that shitty drive-in downtown, just so you don’t have to be alone” she offers, her fingers lightly tapping against her thigh in a rhythmic manner. “But no pressure, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me but I don’t mean it like that” she lies through her teeth, knowing damn well she had spent the last few weeks fucking herself with her eyes squeezed shut, the image of you held tightly in her mind. 

But you didn’t know that, so who cares? 

You nod quickly, trying to pretend you weren’t discouraged by her comment, as some part of you wanted her to take you to the drive-in with the intention of getting in your pants. “I know, I know. But yeah, why not? I heard they’re playing the original Romeo and Juliet tonight” you say, buckling your seatbelt as she starts up the engine. Ellie couldn’t care less about what they’re playing tonight, all she cares about is getting you alone. 

Ellie had placed the baggie of goods onto your lap before she began driving, to ensure that you didn’t think she was trying to withhold it from you. You kept it grasped tightly in your hands, as if it were a lifeline as your mind raced at a mile a minute. Her music played faintly, some old rap you recognized but made no comment on since the silence between the two of you was comfortable enough. 

All the while, Ellie was trying to collect her own thoughts, as she couldn’t afford to fuck this up after she had worked so hard just to get here. But based on how you were humming along to the music ever so softly, she could tell you weren’t as apprehensive about her as you once were and that helped put her mind to rest. 

Ellie refuses to let you pay even when she has to get the tickets for the movie and you try not to make a fuss about it, doing your best to accept her acts of kindness. By the time the two of you reached the drive-in, the movie was already halfway through but fortunately there was barely anyone else there so Ellie quickly found a spot to park. As she shifted the parking gear into place, she let out a relaxed sigh and glances over to you. 

She takes a moment to simply analyze your delicate features, the way your lips part in awe as the tragic film plays out before you, your attention already on the screen despite only being there for a few moments. With a light nudge, she managed to get your attention back on her so that she could speak to you directly. 

“We should get in the backseat, just so no one sees us smoking n’ it’s more comfortable, so you can enjoy your movie” she states as if it were basic knowledge, and before you can even think her words over, your body begins to move on its own as you step out of the car only to open the back door and slide in there instead. You can’t help but think of how thoughtful she is, how kind she is. This was enough for you to reason that she had no other intentions other than ensuring your safety, although your heart continued to pound in your chest as she settled in the backseat with you. 

She already had a lighter ready, gripped tightly in one hand before she extended her free hand to you, silently prompting you to give her one of the prerolls she had made just for you. You open up the baggie, marveling at the soft baby pink color of the rolling paper she had used for your order. 

As you give it to her, your hands brush against each other and you can feel just how warm she is, a stark contrast to your cool skin. You have to make an effort to not shiver at the contact, the simple act making your mind grow a bit fuzzy.. It was either that or the fact that the scent of weed was already thick in the air the second she lit it for you, along with a hint of something else that took you a moment to put your finger on. 

“Is that lavender?” you question, your head tilting with curiosity as you watch Ellie take a small puff of the joint to make sure it would burn properly before she held it out for you to take. “Smells good, hm? Makes it a little easier to smoke when you roll with lavender, smoother to smoke, at least I think so” she mutters with a slight shrug, trying to ignore the way just watching you take a shaky inhale makes her need for you grow stronger. 

She knew you had smoked before, but not enough to really be a regular at it. This was shown in the way you let out a weak cough, your cheeks growing rosy in the slightest bit. Often, Ellie would dread smoking with inexperienced people but with you, she was in heaven. “S’ good, really good” you huff between your coughs and your voice was truthful despite it all. Lavender was one of the most soothing scents to you, and it helped you relax before taking a few more hits. 

You think for a moment that as good as the smoke is, you’re not really feeling a high that was different from anything else you were used to. That was until you tried to hand Ellie the joint, and you realized your hand was trembling to the point where she had to wrap a firm hand around your wrist so that she could steady you enough to take it from you. 

You have to bury the burning sensation of embarrassment, as you hadn’t taken her warning seriously when she had told you just how strong her stuff was. But the feel of her strong hand wrapping around your wrist only seems to add to the dizzy feeling blossoming within your mind, a pleased sigh falling from your lips as her touch grounds you as much as it possibly can, considering you’re already out of it. 

“Poor baby” she coos in an all too sweet tone that only muddles your mind further. She takes a few hits with ease, her lungs being adjusted to the aching burn that would spread throughout her lungs. You can only watch her with hazy eyes, the realization that you’re alone with someone you had kept in the back of your mind for months suddenly making you feel overwhelmed. Your eyes flicker back towards the movie that continues to play, the smoke bleeding through the windows since Ellie had opened them just enough to make sure she didn’t completely hot box her car. 

Ellie can sense your anxiousness and it makes her heart ache in the most pathetic way. You were completely gone, but Ellie needed you to be a little more pliant if she wanted to be able to get what she wanted. So she brought the joint to your lips, her own hand steady and calm. 

“Just a few more hits for me, sweet girl. You can do it, can’t you?” she asks in a warm tone, easing you into the idea of following her every command. Some part of her is worried she is asking for too much too fast, but you eagerly wrap your lips around the filter of the joint without the slightest bit of hesitation. 

Even with your scrambled mind, you knew that you wanted to please Ellie. You needed to make her proud of you, although you’re unsure why this is such a necessity. But in the midst of your high, you don’t think to question it at all. To you, she is simply being kind and considerate, such a far cry from the other people you knew. 

The fresh hits burn even more, and Ellie is quick to soothe your coughing fit by gently rubbing circles on your back. The smallest touch had goosebumps rising on your skin and you desperately craved more contact, yet you were too fearful to ask for it. So you remain as still as a statue, praying that this isn’t some weed induced hallucination. 

Your muscles begin to relax and Ellie begrudgingly pulls her hand away, not wanting to overwhelm you further. But the moment her warmth is gone, you let out a pitiful whine. It’s breathy and sounds borderline pornographic, as if she had just pulled her fucking strap out of you or something. 

It was a simple touch, and yet it was all that mattered to you in that moment. For the first time ever, Ellie is unsure of what move to make next. She has to play her cards right, lest she scare you off. So she simply watches the way you sway in your seat, your eyes red and half lidded as you look at her with a heartbroken expression due to her no longer touching you. 

“Look at you, so dumb n’ sweet” she coos, her voice making a mockery of the affection she felt towards you. The tone she uses with you is so gentle that you don’t even recognize the degrading words, simply shivering with pleasure as she blows smoke straight into your face before stubbing out the small bit of the joint that is left into an ashtray she had in the car for her cigarette habit. 

Some part of your brain knows that you are too out of it, the world around you spinning far too fast for your liking. And yet, there is nowhere in the world you’d rather be. “You think m’ sweet?” you question, a soft laugh tumbling from your lips. 

Ellie can’t believe that you had chosen to focus on that part of her sentence when she had just called you dumb without any remorse. God, you were everything she wanted and more. 

She nods her head slightly, the weed making her heart beat faster than usual as she slowly inched closer to you in the backseat. The sound of the movie acted as background noise, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt Ellie’s breath fanning against your neck in the slightest. 

Her breathing pattern had changed, short inhales with longer exhales as she tried to wrap her mind around the fact that you had willingly smoked over the limit you were comfortable with just to please her. “Course’ I do. Sweetest little thing I’ve ever met in this god forsaken town” she mutters, pressing a feather light kiss to your neck. 

It was enough to make you shiver, a lazy grin on your lips because in your confused mind, you were the luckiest person in the world. Free weed and the hottest girl at your college was worshipping you as if you were something holy was not how you expected your usual Friday night to play out, yet here you were. 

Ellie was choosing to take her time with you, her senses heightened enough that she can pick up on every bit of your perfume. The intoxicating scent of lavender, jasmine, and vanilla swirled in her mind and left her desperate to be as close to you as possible. 

Her strong hand grips your waist, pulling you closer to her own body until you can feel her rapid heartbeat fluttering beneath her skin due to your bodies being flush tight against one another. “Just relax, baby. No need to think when m’ here, alright? Let all those thoughts fade away n’ focus on being here with me” she whispers, her other hand sliding down your body until she can ease it between your thighs. 

She thanks whatever higher power there is that you aren’t wearing any shorts under your little skirt, her fingers coming into contact with your panties that were embarrassingly wet. Ellie uses two fingers to trace the damp patch on the cotton material, soft curses falling from her rosy lips as she watched your brows knit with a mix of confusion and pleasure. 

“Doing so good for me, aren’t you? I knew you’d be so well behaved” she hums, her voice shaky and breathless as she eases her fingers upwards until she can feel your puffy clit through your panties. 

With slow, almost reverent motions, she rubs your aching bud through the soft material. The sensation enveloped your entire body, leaving you to moan weakly as she pushes your thighs apart a bit further just to see how willing you are. 

She is pleased to find that you let her manhandle you into the position she wants without question, your hazy mind far more focused on what your cunt wants. As much as she loves watching your expression of ecstasy, she needs to taste you on her tongue, to memorize every last inch of your mouth so that no one knows you as well as she does. 

As her fingers continue to move against your panties, she captures your lips in a kiss that reflects the need she has been harboring for months. It’s not rough, slower than her usual method of kissing. It is as if she is praising your body through the way she touches you, her tongue as smooth as velvet as it dances along your own. 

With you so lost in the kiss, she uses the opportunity to push the thin material of your panties to the side so she can properly rub your aching clit. It’s filthy how wet you are, her fingers sticky with your arousal after a few seconds of her intimate touch. As much as you are relieved by the contact, it also feels like it is consuming you completely. 

You can’t help but whine against her lips, your shaky hand weakly grasping her wrist in an attempt to pull her hand away from your dripping cunt. But Ellie refuses to yield, unbothered by your pleas for her to slow down. 

“I’m going easy on you, silly girl. It must be all that weed getting in your head, making you imagine things” she muses. She was practically blaming you for how worked up you were, as if she wasn’t the one rubbing your clit at a maddeningly slow pace. 

The sick part was that you truly believed her, you genuinely thought that someone like Ellie knew more than you did. You were the one who had smoked so much and you wanted her touch, so what right did you have to complain about it? 

“More” you plead breathlessly, tears welling in your reddened eyes and quickly spilling down your soft cheeks. It was as if you had no control over your body, and it was running based on pure primal instinct. 

The sight of your tears only turns Ellie on more, her own cunt aching for stimulation. But all she cares about is getting you off, so she shushes you ever so gently before easing one of her fingers into your pussy. 

Your body tenses from the intrusion, hiccups leaving your parted lips as she sinks her finger into your gooey, pliant cunt. Your walls are slick with arousal and Ellie wishes with every fiber of her being that she could sink her strap into you and give you what you really wanted but her fingers would have to do for now. 

“Thaaaat’s it. Look at this pretty little cunt, taking me so well” she praises, kissing the corner of your lips before easing a few kisses down your jaw. Her dirty words seem so romantic when you’re in such a fuzzy state of mind and you are just so pleased that she is giving you so much attention. 

Your hands are restless, tugging at Ellie’s shirt— although you’re unsure if you’re trying to pull her closer or push her away. “Can’t do it, can’t!” you cry, only for her to add a second finger into your slick hole. She pumps her fingers at a slow pace, not feeling the need to be rough because she knows the feeling is intense enough as is. 

You are left to squeeze your thighs together, the pleasure bordering on pain due to how quickly everything is happening. “But you’re doing so well, angel. You wanted more, didn’t you? Did you lie to me, hm?” she questions, questioning you as if she wasn’t the perv who was fucking some sweet girl in the back of her car. 

The question makes you shake your head feverishly, not wanting her to think lowly of you. “No, I promise. S’ just a lot, never ever— mm fuck, never felt like this before” you whisper, your voice unsteady. Her fingers stretched you open perfectly, her thumb still focusing on tracing small circles over your clit. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know. No one has ever taken care of you properly, huh? Those stupid girls you sleep with don’t know how to please a precious thing like you” she says in a syrupy sweet tone that only serves to dumb you down further. 

You nod your head, unsure what you’re even saying anymore. You couldn’t care less, not when she’s curling her fingers inside you just enough to hit the perfect spot. Her fingers thrust against the spongy spot, her own cunt clenching around nothing as she watches you rut against her hand. 

“Gonna cum, gonna— mmf” you try to warn her, as you were not used to finishing so quickly. But your warning doesn’t cause her to slow down in the slightest, she simply keeps her pace as she licks a long stripe up your neck before connecting your lips to hers once more. 

She swallows every single one of your cries as your cream gathers at the base of her fingers, a lewd white ring of your essence marking her as yours. Ellie can feel her ego grow three sizes as she feels your cunt clamp down on her fingers like a silken vice, evidence of your release all over her hand. 

Ellie helps you ride out your orgasm, lazily pumping her fingers deep into your cunt until you pull away from the kiss just to whine that you can’t go any further. Since she had gotten what she wanted, she finally eases her fingers out of you and brings them to her lips instead. 

She keeps her eyes focused on your fucked out expression, watching your chest heave as she sucks her fingers clean. The taste of you leaves her moaning, as it was saccharine and everything she had imagined it to be. 

You are still lost in the haze of your high, your nerve endings seeming to tingle all over as you try to even out your breathing. The effects of the weed haven’t eased up and so you give Ellie a bashful grin, still so shy in her presence despite what had happened. 

The sight of you still behaving so sweetly pleases her in a way she can’t describe, as the purity of your heart seems to only draw her closer. Without missing a beat, she tugs your underwear back in place and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“You wanna make me feel good too, don’t you?” she asks softly, her fingers absentmindedly toying with your hair. It’s not a demand at all, as she simply wants to see what state of mind you’re in. 

Much to her satisfaction, you slowly nod your head after you take a moment to register her words. “Wanna make you feel good” you babble, repeating her words as if you were nothing more than a mindless doll. 

“Atta’ girl” she praises instantly, using gentle movements to help you sit up properly but letting you remain close to her. “How bout’ we go back to my place, just for a bit. We can smoke some more once we’re there and then I’ll let you touch me” she offers, acting casual about it so that you remained in your pliant headspace. 

The offer of being able to go to her house causes you to instinctively nod your head, an eager grin on your lips as you take notice of the windows that were fogged up despite being opened up just a bit. “Pretty please” you beg in a voice that makes Ellie’s heart stutter for a moment or two because she knew she was about to spend the rest of the night either rubbing your slick cunts together or simply letting you eat her out so that you can learn how to properly please her. 

Maybe both if you were awake long enough, although she was sure that after another round the weed would have you out like a light. 

As the credits of the movie begin to roll, she helps you get back into the passenger seat, even buckling your seatbelt for you and giving you one last gentle kiss before she got in the driver's seat. You were still in a daze and thanks to how strong the weed was, Ellie knew she would have you all to herself for the rest of the night. 

[miedei]

terrible profilers

(aka the team meets early seasons!spence's not-so-secret girlfriend)

a/n: this came to me in my dream last night and i cannot get over it, pls send asks/requests and tell me what you thought! (look at '#mystery girl!au' on my blog to see more musings about them <3)

cw: USE OF Y/N IM SORRY reader has she/her pronouns, the team is nosy, reader is a phd student, my niche personal headcanons of how i think spencer would text, probably more tech inaccuracies

wc: 3.5k

part one | part three | mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

The moment Spencer walks into the bullpen, he knows something’s up. Garcia never replied to the text he’d sent on Friday night, and he’d hoped she was just busy on their first weekend off in a while, but it’s clear there’s more. Clutching the strap of his satchel, he walks to his desk, observing the strange tension blanketing the room.

For one, Hotch and Gideon are in the bullpen, standing in the corner speaking in hushed tones. Weird. They usually go to one of their offices to talk, and either way, they usually are stuck in their offices until lunchtime when they don’t have cases.

Another thing. JJ and Penelope are standing around Elle’s desk, which isn’t out of the ordinary, but they’ve swivelled around to stare at Spencer like he’s an alien (which they do on occasion, but Spencer is pretty sure he hasn’t been strange yet. He just walked in!).

Derek is sitting on Elle’s desk, leaning over to huddle with the three girls, but he’s frozen with his mouth open, like he just shut up for some reason.

“Uh… Good morning.” Spencer furrows his brows, but tries to shrug it off, more interested in the smell of coffee emanating from the kitchenette. Setting down his bag, he quickly busies himself with pouring his signature overly-sweet (according to you) coffee.

It’s like his movements snap a thread that has been holding his colleagues together, and they suddenly start bustling around the bullpen again. Derek sidles up beside him as he’s stirring in sugar, and Spencer braces himself for some Morgan-esque prod. But what he says has Spencer confused.

“Kid. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Ok, something is going on. Spencer has worked with Derek since he was 22, and they’ve fallen into a very comfortable dynamic ever since. But neither of them have ever felt the need to reassure the other of their closeness.

“What’s up, Morgan? No jabs today?”

Derek stiffens, like he’s been caught in a lie, and scrambles to reply.

“Well… We- Um, Garcia worried about you on Friday. What was up with you leaving so suddenly?”

Spencer has to bite back a smile, memories of you, coming to O’ Keefe’s just to see him, flooding into his mind. But he answers as smoothly as possible, still turned away from Derek as he elaborates.

“Oh, I felt a bit sick. It was probably the drinking and travelling back and forth from the more arid parts of the country that did it. Did you know, travelling between warmer and colder climates makes you more susceptible to contracting viruses because it strains your immune and musculoskeletal systems, causing the feedback loop of homeostasis to-” Derek puts a hand on his arm, and Spencer quiets.

“Okay, okay, pretty boy, I get it.”

With that, he walks off, and Spencer is left at the kitchenette, stirring his coffee, confused. It’s not like it was a lie, he was feeling nauseous in the bar, so you insisted that you go home. He recovered that same night over a cup of tea, Metropolis on the television, and you cuddled up on the couch next to him.

When he walks back to his desk, mug in hand, he calls out to JJ, still standing by Elle’s desk.

“JJ, no cases today? …JJ?” The blonde is looking at him, but his words seem to fly right over her head, until Elle pokes her shoulder.

“Oh! No, the cases I’m being called about are still pending, we’re probably not leaving on anything until tomorrow.” Spencer smiles softly, glad to have at least one more night sleeping at home this week. Because of his reverie, he doesn’t notice the way JJ, Penelope and Elle are staring at him, befuddled expressions on their faces.

The day continues to be a little weird, much to Spencer’s chagrin. Around 1pm, Gideon emerges from his office again. This, already, is out of the blue. Gideon only leaves his office an average of 3.78 times a day, mainly to go to Hotch’s office, or to go home. This time, however, Gideon marches to Spencer’s desk.

Gideon comes to a stop next to Spencer’s desk chair, and it’s all he can do to muster a blank face and look into his mentor’s eyes.

“Hey, Gideon. What’s… What’s going on?”

The older man sighs wearily, looking down his nose at Spencer, looking uncannily like Spencer’s highschool Calculus teacher when she got irritated at him for being a ‘13 year old know-it-all’.

“Spencer. You weren’t sick on Friday, were you?” What is happening? Spencer doesn’t lie, he’s never told Gideon something untrue, so this is incredibly out of the blue.

“Huh? No, what’s wrong? I felt nauseous, which could’ve technically been a symptom for an inner ear problem, inflammatory bowel disease, gastroenteritis…” Spencer continues to rattle off a list of things he could have had, not noticing the uncharacteristically soft, paternal gaze that Gideon has trained on him.

“...and even a brain tumour, but it was probably because I drank more than I usually do. Why do you think that’s not true?” Spencer finishes his little speech, looking up at Gideon with a confused expression. There’s nothing else the older man can do but sigh, patting his shoulder softly.

“Okay, Reid. Glad you’re feeling better now.” With that, the experienced profiler walks away, not bothering to reply to Spencer’s continued questioning:

“Gideon! What’s wrong? Why are you-” Gideon’s office door slams shut.

Unfortunately, Spencer cannot ignore the rest of the signs, spending the rest of the day in a state of coiled anxiety. Something is going on, but he can’t get anyone to tell him.

Derek and Elle are constantly glancing over at him, unreadable expressions on their faces. Penelope keeps finding excuses to go to Spencer’s desk, and even if Spencer wasn’t a profiler, he’d be able to see the words bubbling up in her throat, but she never says anything.

JJ doesn’t come talk to him at all, which is strange. Instead, she shoots him knowing looks whenever she’s in the bullpen, sending Spencer into a spiral every time she doesn’t say anything about why they’re all acting weird.

He’s even caught Hotch and Gideon peeking through the blinds over their office windows to look at Spencer, with the analytical looks they get when they’re observing a crime scene on their faces. It’s driving Spencer crazy, and he has to tell someone.

You’re leaving your desk when your phone buzzes.

SPENCE <3: Hi. I looked normal when I left the house, right?

Your brow furrows at the text. Normally Spencer isn’t a fan of texting while he’s at work, and you’d told him multiple times how handsome he looked when he left the apartment this morning. He’s wearing his striped white button down and the purple tie you bought him for his birthday last year, he looks pretty. And you made sure to tell him so.

YOU: hi <3

YOU: no spence you look pretty i told you this morning didnt i?

SPENCE <3: You did, thank you. Everyone’s acting weird at work, and I can’t think of what it could be.

YOU: maybe its something with a case?

SPENCE <3: They would tell me if it was that, right?

YOU: ur right

YOU: if you cant think of it with that big beautiful brain its probably something to do with them

There’s a solid minute of silence before he texts you back, and you grin to yourself as you walk through the halls. You can see the flush growing over his face in your mind’s eye, the way he does every time you pay him a cheesy compliment.

SPENCE <3: I guess so. They won’t tell me anything about it, which is strange.

You frown a little, imagining his frustration at being out of the loop. Spencer has expressed his love for his coworkers to you many times, but he’s also told you about his struggles feeling like the ‘baby’ of the office, and the way it makes him feel isolated at times. Racking your brain to think of a way to cheer him up, you check the time on your watch (the twin of which is settled on Spencer’s wrist).

YOU: its nearly 6

YOU: if i leave my building now i can make it to your office in 30mins

YOU: i can pick you up and we could get thai for dinner

YOU: ?

The reply is instantaneous, and you smile, looking forward to seeing him earlier than you’d expected today.

SPENCE <3: That sounds great. I’m finishing up here but text me when you’re in the lobby and I’ll come down.

SPENCE <3: I need to go, I’ve been texting you from the bathroom.

SPENCE <3: See you soon :-)

The last half hour of Spencer’s workday flies by, unlike the way the clock had crawled previously. He finishes up the consults he was working on for the day, and begins packing up the moment the clock hits 18:27.

Derek and Elle are still sneaking glances at him, but Spencer couldn’t care less at this point. As he closes the flap of his satchel, his phone buzzes in his breast pocket. He can’t help but whip out his phone immediately, missing the bewildered looks that pass between his fellow profilers as he smiles down at the screen.

Y/N L/N: in the lobby now!

Y/N L/N: i forgot how fancy it is here i feel underdressed

He doesn’t bother replying, instead opting to leave the bullpen through the glass doors, nodding at Derek and Elle, and pressing the elevator button immediately. He’s so engrossed in his thoughts as he stares at the closed doors, that he realises far too late what’s happening behind him.

He can hear the sounds of shuffling feet, a squeak of surprise (Penelope), hissed insult (Elle to Derek), and a firm clearing of a throat (Hotch). After sighing rather petulantly, Spencer turns on his heels to find the entire BAU team standing there, faces just as confusing as they’ve been all day.

“I’d ask you what’s wrong, but none of you gave me an answer the last 23 times I asked, so.”

There’s a beat of silence, before Hotch, of all people, says, “Reid, we need to… ask you something. About last Friday.” That’s strange. Spencer cocks his head in confusion.

“What about it? I already told Morgan and Gideon, I was feeling sick, but it turns out it was just that I’d just drank more than I was used to.”

Penelope looks like she’s about to burst, and finally, she blurts it out, voice slightly shrill. “Reid! Who is she?”

“Who is who?”

Derek butts in, a hand on Penelope’s shoulder. “Kid, that girl. The girl you were… close to, on Friday. At the bar?” Oh. That’s what they’re talking about?

“That was Y/N. My girlfriend. Are you mad I didn’t introduce you guys? I thought you were all busy.”

Spencer sees six sets of jaws drop. There’s more silence, before JJ croaks out, “Girlfriend?”

It’s a bit of a sight, to be honest. Penelope has clutched on to Derek, and Derek on to Elle. JJ looks gobsmacked, eyes bulging out of their sockets. Even Hotch and Gideon look the most shocked Spencer has ever seen them. But why?

“Uh, yeah. She came to see me because we’d had plans before we decided to go out. Then when she found out I felt sick we went home.”

Gideon looks a little green, and when no one makes a sound, Hotch speaks, his normally stoic voice coming out a little shaky. “Reid, we didn't- We didn’t know you were seeing anybody.”

What? Now they’re being even weirder. Spencer can hear the elevator doors open behind him, but he doesn’t bother. This is something he has to get to the bottom of.

“How did you not know? I’m sure I’ve mentioned having plans with her multiple times. Elle, I told you about the time I went to the movies in New York with her, when we were on that case.” Elle looks more shocked, if that’s possible, but doesn’t say a word.

“Garcia, I asked you to help me find florists that have Gibraltar campions in Vegas that one time.” Penelope jolts, muttering under her breath about ‘idiot geniuses and their mothers’.

“Gideon, I asked you for advice on how to ask her out!” Gideon stiffens, remembering the time Spencer had asked him about his ex-wife. Was that Spencer asking for advice?

“I ran into you, JJ and Morgan, when I was with her, don’t you remember? She was in the aisle over” Derek distinctly remembers a time at the bookstore, they’d seen Spencer, but not noticed anyone with him. JJ shamefully recalls being too busy making fun of Spencer’s heart-studded tie to look around.

Spencer looks bewildered, eyes bouncing between the different members of his team.

“Hotch, I literally told you about her! When I added her to my emergency contacts?” At this, Hotch pales. A year ago, Spencer had come to him with a request to change his 1st emergency contact from his mother to a Y/N L/N. How he never registered that this was a girlfriend, Hotch would never know, but he stares fixedly at his shoes as he contemplates quitting his job as a profiler.

Spencer looks at them, mystified. How did they not know? It’s not like he was ever hiding you! Of course, Spencer wanted to keep you to himself, so he didn’t talk about you that much, but they were profilers. He assumed they’d known, and just didn't want to embarrass him.

His phone buzzes three times, and he pulls it out to see more texts from you.

Y/N L/N: spence are you coming

Y/N L/N: a guy in a suit is eyeing me weird

Y/N L/N: he knows i dont belong come save me

A happy sigh leaves him, before he remembers the people standing in front of him, still gobsmacked. He scrubs a hand down his face wearily, and mutters slowly, as if he’s not sure if he wants to do this.

“She’s downstairs right now, we were going to take the metro home together. Do you… Do you guys want to meet her?” Penelope brightens up, and the rest of the team seem in higher spirits, despite their continued disappointment in themselves. Warily, Spencer opens the elevator door with a press of a button, and they all file in obediently.

“Please don’t be weird.”

“My good doctor, I would never!” He eyes Garcia with a fearful expression, but presses the ground floor button anyway. As the doors close, a strangled shout leaves JJ’s mouth.

“Wait, you live together?”

You are sitting on a bench inside the lobby of the FBI Headquarters. No matter how many times you drop Spencer off or pick him up, this will always be surreal to you. And, right now, it’s not just surreal, it’s a little scary.

A real Danny Ocean type guy is sitting on a bench across the room, talking on the phone and eyeing you. Clearly, you don’t exactly look like an agent, you know that. Dressed in the uniform of a PhD student, jeans and an oversized Doctor Who t-shirt (Spencer’s), you know that you look out of place.

You’re just hoping Spencer walks out of the elevator before you get escorted out on suspicions that you’re a spy or something.

Like some deity has heard your words, you look up at the ding of the elevator to see Spencer… and a whole gaggle of people behind him, slapping at his shoulders and barraging him with questions. He looks harried, a line between his pretty eyes.

The line disappears, though, when he locks eyes with you. His eyes light up, and his steps grow in length, before he's left his entourage behind, at least for a couple of seconds.

He uses this time to explain to you: “Hi, hello, I'm so glad you're here and I need to tell you something-” As if on instinct, your hands come up to rest on his upper arms, thumbs moving in circles soothingly as he continues to ramble, only catching the tail end of his sentence.

“-and well, they didn't know about you somehow? Which is crazy to me because you know I don't hide you so I don't know where they got that from but either way they were acting crazy, so I suggested they come meet you, and…” The group of people you now recognize to be the BAU have caught up to him, eyes darting between your face and Spencer's. His shoulders slump, and the agitated look returns, if a little less intense.

“Well, here they are.” He motions to the group behind him. “These are my coworkers, Jennifer Jareau, Elle Greenaway, Penelope Garcia, Aaron Hotchner, Jason Gideon, and Derek Morgan. Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

Rising on your toes to see over his shoulder, you wave with a smile, eyes zeroing in on Penelope Garcia, who looks like she's vibrating from excitement, shouldering past Spencer to hold both of your hands.

“Hi! It's so good to meet you! I'd say I've heard a lot about you, but you know that's a lie, we didn't realize you existed until 10 minutes ago, but oh my god! You're here! You're so pretty- Spencer, she's so pretty!” She's practically bouncing up and down, causing Spencer to laugh sheepishly.

“Yeah, Garcia, I know that.” The next few minutes are a barrage of introductions and handshakes, all so brief that you can only get quick first impressions of them all.

Penelope is incredibly kind, not letting go of your hands until Spencer pries her off of you, telling you that you have to come out on girl's night with us, exactly like Spencer described her.

Elle is nearly intimidatingly cool, giving you a handshake and a smile, mentioning that she likes your eyeliner.

Aaron (Hotch? You're not sure how to refer to him) is nowhere near as stoic and intimidating as Spencer makes him out to be, breaking into a smile as he introduces himself, and grinning even wider when you congratulate him and his wife on their newborn child.

JJ is the sweetest. You've heard a lot about Spencer's best friend, and she lives up to expectations, squeezing you into a chaste hug with warm words.

Gideon is a little terrifying. He gives you a handshake, quirking the side of his lips in what you assume to be a smile, but saying very little beyond an introduction. You know how highly Spencer thinks of him, and hope he will warm up to you (Spencer is over the moon that he smiled, and informs you later that Gideon loved you).

Derek is exactly how you expected him to be. Somehow, he makes you feel wholly comfortable after a single comment, and promises to regale you with all the Spencer stories you'd want (you see him punch Spencer in the arm, grinning and saying he approved).

Spencer pulls you away from them as quick as he can, citing your dinner plans as an excuse. He slings an arm around your waist, leading you out the door as you wave over your shoulder.

“It was great to meet you guys! We should go out to dinner or something!” You hear mixed shouts of agreement from behind you, before the doors shut and it's just you and Spencer, on the sidewalk outside the building.

It's butterfly-inducing, the way you can see the tension leave his shoulders when he turns to look down at you, brown eyes shining.

“I'm sorry that was so last-minute, I know they can be… a lot.” You giggle at the weariness in his tone, resting your forearms on his shoulders.

“They were really nice, Spence. I'm glad to finally meet them. They didn't know who I was?” He sighs, hands tightening slightly on your waist.

“I don't know what goes on with them half the time. I've told them things about you so many times, but they were just being dense, I suppose. They saw us on Friday, at O’ Keefe’s, and they had no idea I was seeing someone!” He bends to rest his forehead in the crook of your neck with a sigh. As if on instinct, your hands come up to play with his hair.

“I guess they would have found it a little strange that you acted like nothing had changed, huh? Is that why they were being weird today?” He grumbles unintelligible words into your skin, before raising his head to look at you.

“I guess… You know I wasn't hiding you, right? I really thought they knew about you,” The earnestness on his face makes you want to implode, his thumbs rubbing minutely on your waist. Speaking would pop the bubble you've found yourselves in, so you find the best next option for you to show him your assertion.

Your hands roam up his neck to cup either side of his jaw, and slow, slow, slowly, you rise to your toes and kiss him.

Suddenly, Spencer's not worried anymore.

[biteyoubiteme]

Can I get Felix nsfw fic about breeding kink👀

lost luggage

felix x fem!reader

synopsis: the one where you lost your birth control pills.

warnings: 🔞!!! hand job mention, fingering mention, breeding kink, talk of birth control, creampie, no protection, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 1.6k

an: this is not the best im so sorry but I love this pic of felix so so much and I hope you like it <33 thank you so much for requesting! not proofread sorry :p

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

You had lost your suitcase. Or the airline had misplaced the luggage and claimed to get it to you in the next forty-eight hours. Apologizing for the inconvenience and sending you on your way. It hadn't been too big a deal, Felix talking you down from the anger bubbling up inside you, not necessarily at the airline but at yourself for thinking this would never happen to you. And then yes at the airline and their stupid bad timing and even worse customer service. 

But Felix was there, hand on your shoulder, heady voice in your ear, whispering about taking you out to grab the essentials, to not worry about this one setback. He didn't even care about showing up late to the party you two had been flown out for in the first place. “We will be here all week, being an hour or two late won’t hurt anyone,” 

He was right, everyone had been sympathetic to your situation, cursing the baggage claim gods just as passionately as you had. But it wasn't until the third day of your trip that you remembered one of the key things left in your toiletries bag. The little foil and plastic case of your birth control pills, hastily added into the bag because it was always right there on the edge of the sink next to your toothbrush, taken in the morning consistently enough that you never really forget about it. Not until it was one of the last things on your mind when trying to remember exactly what you needed to buy to replace the lost items for the time being. 

You would have forgotten entirely if it hadn't been for your reflex to reach out for the pill case the second you have finished washing your face. “Shit,” you scrambled to think up the last time you had sex, save the lazy hand jobs the two of you had exchanged in bed that first night. Felix's fingers buried deep inside you as the two of you made out, his soft moans trapped against your lips with each drag of your hand on him. 

Felix hummed a question from the hotel's bed, still lying back against the headboard scrolling on his phone. “What is it?” 

“My birth control was in the checked bag,” you sighed, over the whole thing, if you thought about the bag too much it would just put you right back to the mindset you had right at that airport help desk. “It's fine, calm, cool, collected thoughts just like you said,” you tried to mimic his sweet soothing voice, letting the syllables relax in your mouth to make them true. “If we have sex we will just be careful and when I get the bag back I will make sure to always listen to my gut and put essentials into the carry on,” 

The conversation had been over and done with, forgotten by you as you got ready to go out but not forgotten by Felix. The first thing that came to his mind was the same thought as you, when was the last time you had sex, did you two happen to slip up? Then his mind tripped down a road of questions he never found himself exploring; would it be so bad if you two had slipped up? What if neither of you cared? What if he did get you pregnant? 

Never had his body reacted so fast to an idea, blood rushing down to his cock until it was aching and dripping precum at a rate he hadn't ever experienced. It wasn't as if he had never thought about having kids with you, no this was different, the risk of it right now. Just thinking about how close the two of you had been without realizing it, how only the night before if he had pushed into you, fucked you until you were dumb on his cock, spilling inside you only to do it all over again, you'd be claimed in a way he never would have thought about until this very second. 

He wanted that; to watch you dripping with his cum, claimed as his in a way no other man had ever had you, ready to do it over and over again until you were stuffed so full you couldn't even think about anything else but him and him alone. He was shifting in his seat, trying and failing to adjust himself in his sweatpants, his bulge slung across his thigh, noticeable enough for when you came out of the bathroom again needing the zipper of your dress done up. You chuckled,“Just hearing me say sex gets you hard now?” 

Your hands were on the front of your dress, holding it up and in place, pushing up your boobs just the right amount to draw his eyes in. If you got pregnant they would get bigger, maybe even double in size, and it's all that he can see as he pulls you down on the bed. 

The breath is knocked out of you, his hips fitting right between yours pressing his clothed cock right against you, grinding as he kisses down your neck, leaving a sloppy trail of them right down to your cleavage. Pulling down your dress just enough to free your tits from the fabric, his moan deep in the back of his throat as he takes in your peaked nipples. “Look at how pretty,” he always lets his voice drag out, running low enough to get your panties soaked. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?” 

He's looking at you from under his lashes, drawing you in with every little word. You would be anything he wanted you to be if it got him to look at you like that, every little freckle on display under his heated lazy gaze. Your chin barely moves to nod yes and he's got his hands under your dress, tearing your panties away. He wanted you in a way he's never felt before, the walls of his reserve packed up tight now crumbling down at the sight of your glistening cunt. 

Felix doesn’t falter in his movements tugging himself free from his sweatpants, jerking his wrist over his veiny shaft, circling his fingers over his tip collecting all his precum. You're spilled out on the sheets, dress pushed into a belt around your center, your knees falling open for him just enough so that when he pulls you to the edge of the bed you can wrap them around him. Your hips jerk at the sensation of him dragging his cock through your folds, getting himself as lubed up on your wetness as he can before he pushes in. 

The sound of his moan rumbled through his body, no time to let you adjust to the size of him before he's plumbing into you. Your hands shoot out for his wrists, his fingers denting into your hips to keep you in place. “Oh fuck- you always take my cock so well baby-” Every drag of his cock against your gummy walls is pure bliss, your mind fogging up with each sweet word he shares. “Sucking me in and begging me to fill you,” 

It's then that you realize you forgot a condom, not that either of you had one handy, not when you relied so heavily on your pills. “You have to- you'll have to-” but as much as you want to say the words they get stuck right on the edge of a whimper, pull out, right on the edge of your tongue. But its all tamped down when he adds, “ill have to fill you up, pump you full of my cum- fuck- push it back in and do it again,” 

Felix had never brought this up before, not even when he was desperately begging you to finish with him, buried deep in you needing to hear you cry for him. This was different, panting as he went on and on, “Everyone will know you're mine, all plump and perfect with my baby,” he lets one of his hands press down into your pelvis, slapping skin sticky in the air, knees weak from the feeling. “I'm going to cum right here, you feel that?” he digs the heel of his palm in, the tip of his cock pressed right where he wants it, tucked against your cervix hitting it until you're a shaking mess below him. “You'regoing to be so full of me, don't you want that? Tell me you want my baby,” 

“Felix,” you're gasping, scratching at the sheets trying and failing to find purchase on something to keep you grounded because, with each snap of his hips against yours, you're losing it, scrambling to find sanity. 

“Tell me, fuck- oh fuck- please, tell me,” he's begging thumb moving down to press on your swollen clit, circling the bud until your back is lifting off the mattress. He has a direct pull on your body, tugging your orgasm out of you. 

“I want it- please I want your baby,” you're almost in tears before the tidal wave crashes over you, your whole body tensing up before collapsing into bliss. Felix's hot cum spurts out in thick streams coating your walls and pushing out with each continuous stroke of his cock inside you. He slows just enough to let you keep squeezing him, his hands sliding up your thighs to keep them in place around him. 

Leaning down to pepper you with kisses he inadvertently pushes into you deeper, your whimper so sweet neck to his ear,“we can stay like this for a while before we go another round,” 

“A-another?” 

He drags his hips, grinding down against your sensitive clit, “I want to make sure I fill you enough to have that baby,” 

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @chasingthatjjunie @possum-playground @ch4nn13luv want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[earlysunshines]

love at your door

minatozaki sana x fem!reader

synopsis: you wake up on the couch to find out that it’s actually not your couch and oh my god why is your hot neighbor sitting across from you watching tv???

warnings: sana is a FLIRT ; reader is a loser ; sana is a losersexual ; pacing is iffy but it’s bc i wanted it to be short ; alcohol ; anything else i didn’t mention ; not proofread so prob spelling errors idk i wrote most on my phone

a/n: based off the time i got drunk and fell asleep in the wrong room… anyways my love for sana will NEVER DIE guess who’s BACK.

you wake up with a groan, face smushed against a cushion that's definitely not yours, and the first thing that hits you—aside from the dull pounding in your head—is the faint sound of a tv playing in the background. 

slowly, you crack your eyes open, blinking against the morning light. you finally realize you’re not in your room, and the couch you're sprawled out on… also not yours.

you sit up too quickly and regret it immediately, head spinning, the room around you momentarily blurred. but then it sharpens, and your heart nearly stops when you spot her. sana, your neighbor—your gorgeous, gorgeous neighbor that you’ve been eyeing since you moved in—sitting across from you on her armchair, completely unbothered with her legs tucked underneath her, eyes fixed on the tv but clearly aware you’re awake now. 

she’s holding a ceramic mug in one hand, and for some reason, that little detail makes everything so much worse.

because—how did you end up here?

you glance down at yourself and, of course, you’re still in your luigi costume from last night. the tight green tank top clings to you under the denim overalls (one strap purposely loose and falling off your shoulder because you’re desperate for attention in these trying times) which you had decided to wear in some ill-fated attempt to look “hot” while still committing to the theme. you had succeeded, at least you think, judging from the compliments you vaguely remember through the drunken haze of the halloween party. but now, under sana’s gaze, you suddenly feel a lot less confident about it.

“jesus christ,” you mutter, rubbing your temples, trying to piece together what happened. “what—”

“morning sleepy,” sana says, finally looking over at you, lips curling into a small, amused smile. “you came stumbling in after the party. i figured it was safer to let you crash here than send you back to your place like that.”

this has to be a nightmare.

her voice is casual, like this isn’t completely mortifying for you. like this isn’t the exact scenario your sleep-deprived, engineering-major brain has dreamed up in countless fleeting moments when you’ve caught glimpses of her in the hallways (well, you figured you’d be in a less embarassing scene) but now it’s real, and your heart is thudding painfully loud in your chest, and you can’t decide if you want to disappear or if you never want to leave.

(the first option might be the smartest)

you clear your throat, pushing down the urge to bury your face in your hands. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t—i didn’t mean to crash here like that. i must’ve been drunk out of my mind i— fuck, nayeon, that bitch… im sorry my friends they’re—“

“don’t worry about it,” she waves off your apology, taking a sip from her mug, her gaze briefly dipping down to your outfit before flicking back to your face. “i never knew luigi could look this good.” she adds, a smirk playing on her face that renders you weak.

you feel heat rise to your face instantly, and you’re pretty sure it’s not just the aftermath of all the alcohol you consumed last night. her words hang in the air, teasing, but there’s something else in her tone that sends a jolt through you. something that makes you suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed you feel, the snug fit of the tank top and the way her eyes had lingered on your exposed skin just for a second.

“uh—” you start, but your voice comes out strained, so you clear your throat again, scrambling for a response. “thank you…?”

she grins at your awkwardness, a soft, almost mischievous smile that only adds to the rising tension in the room. “you’re welcome.”

you force a laugh, trying to ignore the way her gaze makes your skin tingle. “right, well… thanks for, uh, taking care of me. and not letting me do something even more embarrassing.”

“more embarrassing than this?” sana raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your discomfort. she gestures toward your outfit with a nod, and you can’t help but huff a laugh this time, the tension breaking just a little.

“point taken,” you mutter, swinging your legs off the couch to stand, only for a wave of dizziness to hit. sana’s on her feet in a second, steadying you with a hand on your arm, her touch gentle but firm.

“easy,” she murmurs, and you freeze, suddenly way too aware of how close she is. her hand lingers just a second too long, and when she finally lets go, you feel like you can breathe again—but it doesn’t stop your pulse from racing.

her eyes dart down to the base of your neck and the intensity of her gaze is amplified.

“quite a hickey, huh?”

“what?” you had to be drunk drunk. you can’t recall anything about kissing girls, you’re not the type to be like that when under the influence. “that’s— i can’t even remember.”

“had fun, didn’t you?” sana looks back into your eyes, making you shrink despite her smaller frame. you feel sorry, you want to apologize for something you can’t even remember—you have no clue why. she’s just your neighbor. she’s the neighbor down the hall that greeted you kindly when you had moved in to town. the same neighbor that you had to blink multiple times at before realizing she’s not a fairytale princess that’s creeped out of the books.

you glance at the door, needing an escape, even though a very large part of you doesn’t want to leave just yet. but standing in her living room in yesterday’s clothes with your head still buzzing is doing nothing for your nerves.

“i should, uh, probably go,” you say, pointing vaguely toward the door.

sana steps back, giving you space, but her expression shifts into something playful as she watches you. “right. but hey—if you ever need a place to crash again, my couch is always open.”

you blink, not sure if she’s joking or if there’s more to that offer. but before you can overthink it, you nod, mumbling a quick, “thanks, i’ll keep that in mind,” before heading for the door.

and just as you’re about to step out, sana calls after you, her voice teasing, warm. “hey, luigi.”

you pause, turning to look at her.

she leans casually against the doorframe, eyes glinting with that same playfulness, and she gives you a slow, once-over before her lips curve into a smirk. “seriously. never knew luigi could be this hot.”

your heart stutters in your chest, and all you can do is laugh, a nervous, breathless sound, before quickly slipping out the door, your mind buzzing as you head back to your place.

sana always caught your eye, but now… now you’re pretty sure you’re never going to stop thinking about her.

—

the whole day you’re quite literally losing your mind. as soon as you crash onto your bed when you get back home, you cringe at how much of an idiot you are, and at the fact that you accepted every single drink handed to you by nayeon.

and then the next day, you’re still replaying the entire morning in your head—how sana’s words lingered, the way her eyes had flickered over you with that teasing smile. it’s been driving you to distraction all day. you couldn’t focus during class, barely heard a word your professor said, and by the time your last lecture ends, you’ve come to a decision.

you’re going to do something about it.

(you’re undeniably an idiot, but everyone in your circle knows that anyway.)

so after class, you stop by the small flower shop near campus. it’s not something you’d typically do—flowers and chocolate, that’s so cliché, right? but somehow it feels like the right move. sana had caught you completely off guard yesterday, and maybe it’s time you do the same.

you have a small conversation with the florist, who recommends her favorite assortment of tulips. you don’t want to do too much, so you settle with yellow tulips, their petals delicate and bright. simple, but thoughtful (you hope).

next, you pick out a small box of chocolates, nothing fancy but enough to show you’ve put some real thought into this. because somehow, leaving things the way they were feels unfinished.

you can’t possibly just leave it like that, you can’t have the only real memory and meaningful interaction between you and sana consist of you flat out drunk and at a loss for words.

you’re already a loser as it is, and especially when sana is around—whether that’s when you two both end up at the mailbox together, with you losing the ability to speak when she simply smiles and compliments you; and also the simple greetings when you two arrive at around the same time on wednesday’s and thursdays (not that you take note of it—you definitely do). 

when you get home, you scribble out a short note on a small card:

hi sana,  

thanks for letting me crash on your couch yesterday. i’m really, really sorry. 

here’s a little something as a thank you. hope you like tulips.

and chocolate.

– luigi 

you read it over twice, fighting the nervous energy bubbling up inside you. it’s playful, casual, but maybe—hopefully—it’ll make her smile. you take the flowers, chocolates, and the note, placing everything neatly in a small brown paper bag before heading down the hall.

when you reach her doorstep, your heart is pounding. you place the bag gently on the ground, adjusting the flowers one last time so they look perfect. then, you take a deep breath and knock, firm but quick, before spinning on your heel and rushing back to your own place.

you barely make it through the door before the nerves fully hit. your heart races, and you lean back against the door, letting out a heavy breath. what if she doesn’t like it? what if it’s too much?

but before your thoughts spiral too far, you hear the faint sound of her door opening down the hall, followed by the quiet shuffle of her picking up the bag.

there’s silence for a bit before you hear the door close again, earning a sigh of relief.

if your friends were to find out literally everything that had happened in the span of less than forty-eight hours, they’d tease you until you had to move out again.

—

the next night, you’re at your desk, buried in the engineering assignment youve been given that same day. something about fluid dynamics, a dense problem set that has you scribbling equations and checking graphs on your laptop. it’s not exactly easy to focus—your mind keeps wandering back to sana, the flowers, the chocolates, and really just everything about her. every time you think about her, a small smile tugs at your lips, despite the headache that’s building from the workload.

then, out of nowhere, you hear a knock at the door.

you blink, glancing at the clock. you’re not expecting anyone, and for a second, you wonder if you imagined it. but when the knock repeats, you push your chair back, setting aside your notes. still a little distracted by the assignment, you take your time getting up, stretching briefly before finally heading to the door.

when you open it, there’s no one there. just silence, the hallway empty. but as you glance down, you spot something on the floor—a folded piece of paper. your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but grin as you bend down to pick it up, already knowing who it’s from.

you unfold the note, and sana’s handwriting greets you:

so, you’re kinda cute even in that luigi costume—i couldn’t stop thinking about you

(i think you’re cute in uniform and not) 

though i have to ask—what’s with the hickey? did luigi have a little too much fun?  ;)

anyway, i liked the flowers. i liked the chocolates too. 

but i think i like the person giving them more.

you should come over in five minutes if you’re not too shy. i mean, you weren’t that shy the other night ;)  

– sana <3

your face heats up instantly as you read the hickey line, hand instinctively reaching to touch your neck. there’s no way, right? you don’t remember—

then it hits you. fuck. it wasn’t a hickey. nayeon had bullied you about how you ran into something that night at her party, some broom? wall? maybe momo elbowed you? or something. you’re not the type to just fuck random girls, not when you’re loyal to your neighbor that you utter maybe three sentences a week to if you’re lucky. but the thought of what had happened that night isn’t even important because now your mind’s racing, thinking about how sana’s teasing you. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you all giddy and nervous.

you reread the note, feeling that familiar nervous excitement grow. come over in five minutes if you’re not too shy. your pulse picks up. there’s no way you’re saying no to that.

without bothering to change out of your hoodie and sweats, you grab your keys, locking the door behind you as you head down the hall. your heart’s still racing, and your mind’s swirling with a mix of nerves and anticipation as you stop in front of sana’s door.

when she opens it, she’s standing there with that same playful smirk—sultry, seductive, and somehow so cute at the same time. her eyes gleam like she already knows exactly what’s going through your mind. 

"took you long enough," she says, stepping aside to let you in, her voice warm, teasing. "for a second, i thought you’d be too shy to show up."

you huff a laugh, shaking your head as you walk inside, glancing around her apartment again. “i’m– i’m not.” it sounds unconvincing, but the woman in front of you thinks it’s adorable.

she quirks a brow, then smiles at that, closing the door behind you. "good to know." she says, handing you a small glass of wine and suddenly everything is a little bit too intimate. 

the two of you end up sitting on her couch, the tv still softly playing in the background like it had been the other morning. the conversation flows easily—there’s that natural comfort between you now, even with the teasing tension that lingers under the surface.

she talks about herself and you talk about yourself too, piquing both your interests. small talk grows into something bigger and you two enjoy the newfound information you’re both learning about each other. you’re breaking the ice, maybe easing into the cold waters in comparison to splashing into it.

“so, about that hickey,” she says, leaning back into the couch, her grin widening as she glances pointedly at your neck. her leg crosses over the other and she holds the glass in her hand near her lips, a small smirk tugging at one corner. “i’m just saying, it looks a little suspicious.”

you roll your eyes, your face heating up again. “it’s not a hickey. i swear.”

“uh-huh,” she teases, clearly not letting it go. “sure it’s not.”

“apparently i hit a broom or wall—something like that.” you shake your head, laughing lightly, but there’s an undeniable pull between you two. 

the way she looks at you, the way her smile lingers a little too long, and the way her knee brushes against yours every now and then—you have to hold yourself back from saying and doing a lot of things. it’s in the way her voice lowers when she speaks, soft and reeling.

you spend the next hour just talking, laughing, sharing random stories about classes, her teasing you about your engineering homework, and you teasing her back about her terrible taste in tv shows. every time she smiles or laughs, it feels like a small victory, something you want to keep chasing. and every time you speak her eyes are in deep contact with yours, spiking your heartrate without fail.

eventually, the conversation lulls, and there’s a moment of quiet where she looks at you, her eyes softening just slightly. “you know,” she murmurs, “i’m really glad you came over. this… was nice.”

“yeah,” you say, smiling back, your heart racing in your chest. “it was.”

“i always thought you were really cute,” she says before sipping on her white wine, “but i’m not a chaser.”

“is that right?”

“unless you count me responding to your apology, then yes.”

you laugh, setting the empty glass down. 

“well,” you begin, biting your lip. “i like to pursue.”

“quite forward isn’t it?”

“you invited me over for wine, it doesn’t get more forward than what you’ve brought to the table.”

“is that so?” sana hums, tilting her head. she bites the inside of her lip, looking at you with narrowed eyes. “i think it can get more forward.”

your breath hitches in the slightest and you can tell sana’s noticed when she lets out that signature chuckle. 

“well, i think it’s time to end the night. you were working on assignments prior, no?” you frown at the suggestion.

“i— yeah, you’re right.” 

there’s a knowing smile on her lips, but you ignore it and stand up with her as she walks you to her door. 

“i had a great time pretty girl,” she puts her hand on your forearm while saying it, her touch burning your skin. “hopefully we can be much more forward next time.”

you laugh. “i like the sound of that.”

“mhm, goodnight.” she says, grinning at you before meekly closing her door.

you purse your lips before walking down the hall and reaching your door. your hand lingers on the doorknob before you turn it and head in, feeling a sense of regret.

…

sana hears a knock at her door ten minutes later, turning off the sink and drying her hands before walking over to see what’s up. 

the moment the door opens and sana sees you standing there, the look on her face is priceless.

“what—” she starts, raising an eyebrow, clearly confused, but before she can finish, you step forward, your hand reaching out to grab her forearm gently. you pull her just a little closer, your heart pounding as you look at her.

“i want to be more forward,” you admit, voice low, the question hanging in the space between you.

for a second, she just stares at you, wide-eyed, before a soft laugh escapes her. she gets it now. “oh, we’re moving pretty fast, aren’t we?” she teases, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “take me out to dinner.”

you grin, and she hesitates for a beat, but then she nods, and it’s enough—enough to send your pulse racing, enough for you to lean in. before you can close the distance, though, her hand comes up, fingers lightly brushing the base of your neck, and you feel her shiver as she touches you.

“you say that like,” you pause, observing the surprise and allure in her features. “like you didn’t eye-fuck me the other night.”

her cheeks flush as her fingers linger on your skin, and you catch the way she bites her lip, trying to hide her own smile. you don’t wait any longer.

you lean in and meet her lips with yours, melting into it just as she does. 

it starts soft, just a gentle press of your lips against hers, but it quickly deepens as sana lets out a quiet, surprised sound that turns into something more—something she’s clearly enjoying a little too much. her hand moves to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and the way she kisses you back sends a thrill through you.

before you know it, she’s dragging you inside, one hand still tangled in your hair, the other guiding you back toward the couch. the door closes behind you, but you barely notice, too focused on the way her lips move against yours.

when you finally pull back for air, she’s breathless, grinning like she’s just won something. “you should’ve been this forward earlier,” she teases, her thumb brushing against the side of your neck.

“yeah?” you ask, a little breathless yourself, but you can’t stop smiling.

“yeah,” she murmurs, eyes flickering down to your lips before she leans in again, kissing you slower this time, savoring it. sana is a great kisser, the type of kisser that leaves you wanting more and more. after a moment, she pulls back, just enough to whisper, “maybe you should stay a little longer.”

you can’t help but laugh softly. “you sure you can handle that?”

“please,” she says, eyes twinkling with that familiar mischievous look. “you weren’t that shy the other night.”

“well i was drunk and—“

before you can even finish your response, she’s kissing you again, and this time, you’re more than happy to let her pull you even closer.

[r1elle]

“no use crying over spilled milk.” —except, there probably is.

a. miya x reader

atsumu knows he’s messed up.

he thinks he may need to leave all that he’s accomplished in his lifetime — all because of a simple, but dire mistake.

“this can’t be happenin..” the blonde murmurs, looking at the monstrosity infront of him.

spilled vegetable smoothie. on three dozens of cooling cookies. that you’ve excitedly made. for your friends and family. as gifts.

atsumu was definitely crying over this ‘spilled milk’.

brushing off the fear of getting divorced on Christmas Eve, atsumu decides to think of how he can remove any remaining evidence.

he thinks that perhaps he can just bake the cookies again, —but argh, he silently curses osamu for taking the culinary skills.

the blonde scrambles around, scurrying to every part of the kitchen to at least try and scrape some of the green-kelpy smoothie bits on your cookies.

the opening of the front door was the only thing that could make him drop whatever he was doing.

“atsumu!~ do you think you can help me with the groceries? i ended up going a little overboard, so i bought some hot coco and chocolate fondue as something to go with the cookies! and—“ you ramble on, however atsumu could only feel the lump forming in his throat, the sweat on his forehead, and the drying of his lips.

he’d rather experience losing a volleyball match right now.

but unfortunately, the sweating of his palms wasn’t going to help him cover his crime scene— with you finally walking up to him with a questionable tone and all.

on some lame attempt to delay your discovery by even a fraction of a second, atsumu lays a cloth on top of your pastries.

“hey, something the matt—……er…?”

you pause in between your words, familiar with atsumu’s current expression. your husband is wearing the exact face he made the last time he realized he’d accidentally mistaken your diy project as trash and threw it out. (valentines almost ended off with him sleeping on the couch.)

his face could only mean one thing, then.

however, distracting you from the overly guilty look on his face was the unusual placement of the rag that you had bought not long ago.

you look at the cookies.

he looks at you.

you look at him.

he looks at the cookies.

you lift the rag.

green, protein-y, vegetable smoothie mix laid on top of your thick, chocolate chipped cookies.

“miya.”

despite the fact that you both now share the same last name— atsumu knows you talk of his last name.

he fears that you may end up going back to your own after this night passes.

“baby please, i— i didn’t…” he rambles, but knows that no excuse can save him from his actions. he pinches the bridge of his nose. “…im…i’m sorry, hon. i’ve got no excuse. i was bein’ careless, and yer’ cookies are all damped because of my stupidity. i’m sorry. what can i do? hm?”

his build envelopes yours, and suddenly you find a man nearing his 30s senselessly murmuring sweet nothings to your ear, hoping that perhaps a single saying can be of the slightest comfort to your disappointment.

the room quiets down, the sound of the ventilation being the only source bearing noise.

the silence only makes atsumu antsy, who begins to lose hope of your anger easing down any time soon.

and so, he decides to call it a night.

“i’ll take the couch tonight, hm? how’s that? i know that it’s nothin’ much…”

a grin.

“…but if it’ll help you in even the slightest way, i’m more than willing to do it—”

a stifle of laughter.

atsumu paused, thinking that the (familiar) sound he’d just heard was some sort of hallucination that his mind had made up on the spot.

“a-anyway, i’ll see what i can do soon, and—“

finally releasing any ounce of self control you had, bursts of laughter start leaving your mouth.

“oh— oh, oh my gosh, i…” your unexplained cackling begins to alter the solemn look on your husbands face into one of confusion.

“you just looked so pathetic— it was cute! i’m sorry, i’m sorry..” you manage to hide in a snort, your husbands eyes following every movement you made.

why were you laughing? was he getting divorced?! is this some sick way to break it to him? no…no??! you’ve both been through so much together, you couldn’t possibly—… but then again… he’s probably put you through so much! argh! is this what osamu meant when he said—

atsumu’s disorganized internal thoughts then get interrupted by your pecks, something that’s been able to melt him since your last year of highschool.

“i’m not mad, no.. no,” you smile, a little giggle sneaking out. “i just couldn’t help but see how you’d react if i looked mad! i’m sorry baby, forgive me?” you coo, your head lifting up to meet his eyes as you sway his tall figure.

“but… i.. yer not mad? i completely trashed the cookies, babe. look!—

“i may or may not have accidentally mixed the salt up for sugar.” you say, a playful smile greeting your lips. “haven’t told you about the cookies i just bought from the store.”

as if all his worries had come to an end, atsumu’s shoulders slump down, a sigh coming out of him.

“ya couldn’t just tell me all that in the beginnin’?”

“and miss seeing you all so guilty and pouty? what am i, insane?”

“be happy i love ya’.”

“need i remind you of last valentines, then?”

“why don’t we get set up? also, yer’ lookin’ beautiful in that dress. anyone told you that yet?”

“okay, you can stop that now, miya.”

“yer’ a miya too, ya know.” he grins.

you roll your eyes, however a smile creeps it’s way in, betraying your ‘dismay’ towards the man.

“you’re right. i suppose i am.”

this was from the request of an oomf !

can we just pretend this was posted before Christmas thank u very muchiez

i fear that the pathetic husband atsumu will never become a trope i’ll get tired of

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone !

ps. if you start seeing that i lowkey started to get confused as to how to write that lil accent he has, no u didn’t.

[bombiikki]

𝖙he 𝖙aste 𝖔f 𝖞our 𝖑ips ⸝⸝ 𓂃₊ ⊹

⋆˙⟡ — non idol!megan x fem!reader

♯ 𝖘ynopsis : while running through the university campus, megan runs into you and falls head over heels (literally). she can’t keep her eyes off of your lips and tries as hard as she can to befriend you. 

𝖈ontains : slowburn but i still dont know how to slow the burn, SLIGHT grumpy x sunshine, reader knows how to bake, megan’s cinnamon allergy is mentioned like thrice, absolute like complete fluff with no angst whatsoever, reader is a bit nonchalant… NOT PROOFREAD

𝖜ord 𝖈ount : 20.9k

𝖆uthor's 𝖓ote : sorry its been a while since ive pstoed chat anwyays first katseye fic!! guess who my bias is very difficult challanege!!!!! ermmemrm i feel like its a bit inconsitent and maybe rushed but its already like 20k words so maybe not rushed rushed 😭(its not proofread… im sorry) anwyays does anyone find it funny im writing a fic abt ginger megan when it has lietrally been confirmed that she is no longer ginger 

megan sprinted through the sprawling halls of the university, her heart pounding as she clutched her timetable like a lifeline. she had promised herself that university would be a fresh start—a time to be punctual, responsible, a well-put-together student. that plan was currently crashing and burning.

“where is this damned room,” she muttered under her breath, her frantic pace earning a few curious glances from passing students.

she flicked her eyes between her timetable and the endless sea of doors, her brain struggling to make sense of the numbers. completely absorbed in her search, she didn’t see it coming. one second, she was sprinting. the next, she was on the floor.

her books scattered, her breath knocked right out of her chest. she groaned, rubbing her shoulder. what the hell had she just run into? a pole? a statue? no, a person. she blinked up, eyes widening as she took in the girl standing before her. 

you had your hands over your headphones, casually pulling them off as you turned, your gaze slowly dropping to the mess of a girl on the ground. your expression was unreadable, but the slight furrow of your brow made you look almost annoyed. to anyone else, maybe even to yourself, you might have seemed like you were scowling. but to megan? that wasn’t a scowl—that was a look of effortless coolness.

her stomach did something weird. her brain short-circuited. you were gorgeous. her eyes fixated on yours, dark and piercing, like you could see straight through her. then, as if her gaze had a mind of its own, it dropped to your lips. soft, glossy, and unfairly distracting.

she swallowed thickly, suddenly hyper-aware of the way she probably looked—sprawled on the ground like some tragic rom-com protagonist. she scratched the back of her neck, laughing nervously. you just watched her.

“watch where you’re going next time,” you said flatly, your voice even, almost indifferent. then, without hesitation, you extended a hand toward her.

megan stared at it for a second too long before finally grasping it. your hand was smaller than hers but steady, effortlessly strong as you pulled her to her feet. and now, she was the one looking down at you.

a goofy, apologetic smile stretched across her face, her nerves practically buzzing. “i’m so sorry about that,” she said quickly, rubbing the back of her neck again.

you stared up at her, unimpressed. “uh-huh.”

megan, still reeling from the fact that you had actually touched her hand, fumbled with her timetable. she held it out awkwardly, pointing to the location of her first class. “do you—um—do you know where this is?”

you glanced at it, then gave a small nod. “you’re heading in the same direction i am. c’mon, i’ve already wasted enough time standing around.” and just like that, you turned and started walking.

megan scrambled after you, still slightly dazed from the whole ordeal. she trailed behind, sneaking glances at you every few seconds.

“so—uh—do you usually go around body-checking people in the halls?” she asked, a teasing grin tugging at her lips.

you didn’t even slow down. “do you usually go around running into people?”

megan opened her mouth to respond, then promptly shut it. 

the rest of the walk to class was quiet—at least on your end. megan, on the other hand, kept sneaking glances at you, like she was trying to piece together a puzzle. her mind replayed the moment over and over again. she had basically crashed into you at full speed, yet you hadn’t even stumbled. you were practically an immovable force. how was that fair? she was still recovering from her fall while you walked like nothing had happened.

before she knew it, you were stepping into the lecture hall. megan followed closely, scanning the room. plenty of seats were still open, students filing in one by one, but she barely thought twice before sliding into the seat right next to you.

you placed your books down, settling into your space, when you noticed her presence. you blinked. of all the empty seats, she had chosen the one beside you. you didn’t comment on it, but she clearly noticed the way your eyes flickered to her before you turned back to your notes.

she shifted slightly, then, as if remembering something, brightened. turning toward you, she extended a hand. “i think we skipped proper introductions. my name is megan!”

the grin on her face was wide and genuine, her whiskered dimples deepening as she beamed at you. you barely spared her a glance. slow. unimpressed. a judgmental blink that made her enthusiasm falter just a little.

“y/n.” you leaned back into your seat, gaze already returning to the front of the lecture hall.

megan nodded, withdrawing her hand awkwardly. “cool. nice to meet you, y/n.”

you hummed in acknowledgment. it wasn’t much, but to megan, it was a start.

the classroom hummed with the low, dull drone of the professor’s voice as he paced at the front of the hall, animatedly introducing the semester’s syllabus. pens scratched, papers shifted, and tired eyes blinked toward the clock. you sat near the middle, posture straight, notes organized, every word you deemed important underlined neatly in your book.

you didn’t mean to notice her again, but she hadn’t moved in minutes.

megan sat to your right, eyes locked on the professor like she was watching a suspense film. her lips were slightly parted, eyebrows drawn together, her whole face tense with effort.

you glanced down at her notebook. still blank. not a single mark on the page. she didn’t even have a pen out.

your eyes narrowed slightly. what was she even doing?

maybe she was just trying to listen. or maybe she had no idea what was going on and was hoping if she stared hard enough, the knowledge would seep into her brain on its own. you wouldn’t be surprised.

you looked away. not your problem.

you shifted slightly in your seat, pushing your pencil forward. line after line, you wrote with practiced ease, your handwriting neat, precise. around you, the world faded into background noise—until she moved again. a small shift. the sound of her elbow brushing the edge of the desk. a quiet sigh, like the lecture had gone over her head ten minutes ago but she didn’t want to give up just yet.

you didn’t say anything. but something about her... stuck in your peripheral.

you told yourself it was just because she was clumsy. loud in her own quiet way. not worth the effort to get involved.

and yet, you kept glancing.

as the lecture wore on, the room slowly fell into the rhythm of the professor’s pacing voice and distant slides clicking from his laptop. you felt the air grow stale, heavy with first-day fatigue. still, megan didn’t move much. maybe she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. maybe she was trying to focus. maybe she didn’t want to seem like she was struggling—but you could tell.

not just from her empty page, but from the way she squinted at the board, her fingers twitching like they wanted to write something, but didn’t know where to begin.

you glanced at your notes. then at hers again. then back at the board.

you tapped your pen softly against your paper.

not your problem.

when the lecture finally crawled toward its ending, the room stirred. chairs creaked, zippers buzzed, and students leaned forward like racers waiting for a starting pistol. the professor gave his final remarks, and the stampede began.

you moved efficiently—books stacked, pen capped, bag slung over one shoulder. beside you, megan was a mess of limbs and paper, trying too hard to pack too fast. you didn’t need to look to know something was about to fall.

a soft thud confirmed it. a book had slipped from her pile and landed neatly beside your foot.

you sighed through your nose and bent down. your fingers wrapped around the worn edge of the book’s cover. it was a basic literature text, corners bent and spine soft from overuse. probably secondhand. probably loved, even if she didn’t fully understand it yet.

you handed it back without a word.

megan blinked at you, clearly not expecting the gesture. her hand brushed yours as she took the book. warm fingers. a little shaky. she held it to her chest like it had sentimental value.

“sorry,” she said, letting out a nervous laugh. “i keep doing that.”

you didn’t respond right away. your gaze lingered on her face—just a moment longer than necessary. her cheeks were slightly pink. her hair was a little messy from rushing. her eyes, though... they were focused. not in a sharp way, but in a determined one. like she was trying, even if she didn’t know what she was doing.

you gave a small nod. “try holding it tighter next time.”

your tone wasn’t cold, exactly. just honest. matter-of-fact.

she smiled—soft and unsure, but real. “noted,” she murmured.

you turned without waiting, slipping into the stream of students leaving the hall.

behind you, megan stood still for a moment, clutching the book tight. her gaze lingered on the back of your head, her thoughts loud in her silence. she didn’t understand you. you barely spoke. barely looked her way. and yet, she felt like she’d been noticed in a way no one else had managed.

not her heart. not yet.

just her curiosity.

and maybe that was how it started. not with a flutter, but with a question.

the campus café murmured with soft life—quiet voices blending into the hum of machines, the clatter of mugs meeting saucers, the distant rustle of wind against the windows. it was the kind of afternoon that asked for warmth. clouds hung low, heavy and silver, and rain pattered faintly on the glass.

you had claimed a seat by the window, as always. a book lay open in front of you, spine cracked and pages curling gently from age. your fingers curved around a warm cup, steam rising in slow, lazy spirals. the outside world blurred against the fogging glass, and for a moment, it was just you, your coffee, and the silence.

but peace never lasted long in a world that included megan skiendiel.

“oh! hey, y/n!”

you didn’t look up right away. your fingers stilled for a breath. then, slowly, you lifted your gaze.

there she was—hair slightly tousled, cheeks pink from the chill outside, and eyes bright like she’d just stumbled upon a hidden treasure. without waiting for so much as a nod from you, she dropped into the seat across the table, her smile as loud as her entrance.

“fancy seeing you here! do you come here a lot? actually, i do too—well, not that much, but enough that the guy at the register knows my order, which is kinda cool but also a little embarrassing, like, what does that say about me—”

“megan.” your voice cut through her rambling like the edge of a dull knife—blunt but firm.

she brightened, like a puppy hearing its name. “that’s me! i’m megan!”

you stared at her flatly. “did i ever give you the impression that i was open to befriending you?”

the question landed hard. her grin faltered, slipping sideways into something smaller. her hands tugged nervously at the ends of her sleeves. “um—no?” she said weakly. “sorry. i can—just—i’ll leave.”

she reached for her drink, trying to recover her dignity. but grace had never been on her side.

her hand knocked the cup instead of grabbing it. the lid popped, and coffee leapt forward in a dramatic arc, landing squarely on your sleeve. the heat seeped through the fabric, spreading warmth across your hoodie in a slow, sticky stain.

you blinked once, slowly, at the mess.

“oh my god—oh no—wait, don’t move!” she gasped, panic already setting in. napkins flew from the holder as she scrambled to fix what she’d broken. she lunged across the table with desperate energy, dabbing at your arm with trembling hands, napkins half-crumpled in her grip.

you didn’t flinch. didn’t scowl. just reached calmly for another napkin and cleaned the sleeve yourself.

“you’re making it worse.”

“i know! i know, i’m so sorry! i’ll—i’ll buy you another coffee! or—or a new hoodie! do you want my jacket?” she was already halfway out of it, arms wrangling with the sleeves, eyes wide with alarm.

“i don’t want your jacket,” you said simply.

she froze, halfway out of her coat, lips pressed into a tight, sheepish pout. “are you sure?”

“positive.”

megan sank back into her chair, jacket bunched awkwardly around her elbows. she watched as you wiped your sleeve in silence, your expression unchanged. no annoyance. no sighs of frustration. just calm acceptance. and somehow, that made her feel even worse.

“still,” she mumbled, picking at the edge of a napkin, “let me get you a coffee. it’s the least i can do.”

you glanced at her, then back to your cup. “i don’t need two coffees.”

“right.” she nodded quickly. “yeah, okay. just… offering.”

a pause settled. not tense. just awkward, in the way only she could make it.

you slid an extra napkin across the table without looking up. her eyes followed it, then flicked to you. you didn’t speak, but your silence carried something that settled her nerves better than any apology could.

it’s fine.

she stared for a second longer than she should have. your lashes were long. your lips slightly parted as you took another sip of coffee, the steam ghosting against your skin. she didn’t know why her eyes kept flicking down to your mouth, but they did. more than once.

and every time, her heart did a tiny skip she pretended not to notice.

“you’re, um…” she started, then trailed off. you raised an eyebrow. “nevermind.”

you didn’t press her. just went back to your book.

megan watched you for a bit longer, hands tucked between her thighs to keep from fidgeting. you were unreadable, and maybe that was what kept drawing her in. you didn’t look at her the way others did. you didn’t smile or make jokes or soften your voice. you were just... steady. unbothered. and even covered in coffee, you made it look cool.

she looked down at your lips again. her brows furrowed. weird.

she looked away.

definitely weird.

megan walked across campus with her friends, the cool morning air filled with their usual banter. nestled between lara and daniela, the two were in the middle of a ridiculous debate about the best way to peel an orange. manon trailed just behind, her voice grumbling low as she complained about school. sophia was listening with her full attention—though megan had a feeling she was just waiting for the right moment to make some over-the-top dramatic interjection, like she always did.

“okay, okay, but listen,” megan said, raising her hands for attention. the chatter around her paused as five pairs of eyes turned to her. “so, remember how i told you i bumped into y/n in the hall the other day?”

“uh-huh.” lara smirked, clearly entertained. “the scary quiet girl you’re determined to befriend?”

megan rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “right, so,” she continued, brushing off lara’s teasing, “i saw her again. at the café. and i, uh… i may have spilled coffee all over her hoodie.”

a beat of silence passed before laughter erupted.

“oh, megan,” sophia sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest like she’d just heard the most tragic news. “oh, my sweet child.”

daniela let out a low whistle. “yikes. you really wanna befriend this girl, huh? ‘cause from where i’m standing, it sounds like you’re just haunting her.”

“noooo…” megan dragged out the word, a nervous laugh escaping her. “she doesn’t hate me.”

lara raised a brow, her voice dripping with playful skepticism. “mmm. are you sure?”

“yeah, i mean…” megan hesitated, feeling the heat in her cheeks. “she didn’t snap at me or anything. just kind of… sighed.”

“damn.” daniela snorted. “you made her sigh? that’s almost worse.”

before megan could defend herself, manon piped up from behind, stretching her arms over her head as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “y’know, i’ve actually heard about this girl. she’s kinda infamous. apparently, she’s got this whole mysterious, nonchalant dreadhead thing going on.”

lara turned to her, eyes lighting up like a match about to catch fire. “damn, girl sounds like the ultimate alpha wolf or something.”

the group froze in collective horror. then, without warning, they all cringed.

“lara, what the hell—”

“never say that again—”

“that was so bad—”

lara groaned, slapping megan’s shoulder lightly. “shut up, you guys! it sounded cool in my head!”

“it did not sound cool out loud,” sophia wheezed, doubling over in laughter. the whole group joined in, their giggles carrying through the air, momentarily forgetting about anything else.

as the laughter began to fade, daniela elbowed megan, her eyes glittering with mischief. “so, what’s the next move, huh? you gonna spill soup on her next? maybe trip and land dramatically in her arms?”

megan rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “i wish yoonchae was here. she would totally have my back.”

sophia scoffed, shaking her head. “as if! she’d be laughing at you too.”

the group chuckled again, their voices light and carefree, but before long, their schedules pulled them in different directions. megan waved them off, adjusting her bag as she made her way to her next lecture.

this time, she found the hall without any trouble.

as she approached the door, she spotted a familiar figure already reaching for it. she slowed her steps slightly, watching as you pulled the door open. she expected you to step inside without even noticing her, but instead—without a word—you held the door open just enough for her to slip through. she stopped in her tracks for a moment, her feet stuttering slightly.

it wasn’t much. just a small, effortless gesture. but coming from you? it felt different. almost intentional. megan felt her face flush unexpectedly.

“uh—thanks,” she muttered, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious as she ducked her head, avoiding your gaze.

you didn’t say anything, just let go of the door once she passed and walked ahead to your usual seat. megan, still feeling oddly flustered, followed behind and slid into the seat next to you once again, her heart beating faster than it probably should’ve been.

it wasn’t anything big. just a small thing. but for some reason, it was enough to make her think about you for the rest of the day.

the classroom buzzed with the usual chatter as students filtered in, gathering their belongings and settling into their seats. megan walked in a little later than usual, her fingers nervously tugging at the strap of her bag. she caught sight of you across the room, sitting in your usual spot near the middle, surrounded by your textbooks, already engrossed in something. as usual, you didn’t seem to notice anyone or anything around you—completely lost in your own world.

megan hesitated for a moment, biting her bottom lip. she had been trying to be more subtle, trying not to be too forward with her attempts to get to know you better. but after that weird interaction at the café, where she’d spilled coffee all over your hoodie, she felt this weird, unshakable pull to try again. maybe this time she wouldn’t make a fool of herself. or maybe she would.

with a deep breath, she made her way toward your desk, pretending not to notice the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

"hey, y/n," she said, her voice tentative but hopeful, as she stood beside your desk. "i, uh, noticed you had your book out, and i was thinking—maybe you could help me with the reading? i, um, didn’t quite get all of it last night."

you didn’t even look up from your book. your pen moved slowly across the page, writing something down with deliberate precision. megan waited for a response, her fingers curling around the strap of her bag, a little awkward now.

when it became clear that you weren’t going to acknowledge her, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, feeling suddenly out of place. "it’s just, like, some of the themes are a bit confusing," she continued, trying to force her voice to sound casual, like she wasn’t panicking on the inside. "i thought maybe—"

still nothing. you didn’t even flinch at her words.

megan let out a quiet breath, realizing you weren’t going to bite. she glanced at the seat next to you, where an empty chair sat, untouched. she knew there was no point in pushing further. if you weren’t going to respond, that was that. so, with a small sigh, she moved to sit in the chair next to yours.

she could feel your presence next to her, the quiet hum of your focus that always seemed to fill the air around you. it was as though you had built this invisible wall between yourself and the rest of the world. and maybe that was why she felt so drawn to you—because there was this layer of mystery she couldn’t quite crack.

she tried to focus on her notes, but her attention kept drifting back to you, her eyes flicking to the page of your book, to the way your fingers held the pen. it was like a magnetic pull, something she couldn’t control.

"y’know," she said again, a little louder this time, "it’s kind of funny. we’re both doing literature, but we’ve barely talked."

you glanced up at her for the briefest moment, your eyes meeting hers for just a split second before you returned to your book. no expression crossed your face. no acknowledgment of the comment. just a quiet return to your work.

megan blinked, unsure of how to take it. she was so used to her friends always responding, always engaging in conversation. but with you? it felt like she was talking to a wall.

undeterred, she went on, trying to keep the conversation alive. "i mean, we’re in the same class, and it’s not like we’re strangers. we’ve sat next to each other before. it just feels like… i don’t know, we should talk more."

this time, you shifted in your seat just slightly, as if her words had reached you in some distant corner of your mind. but still, no response came. you were too absorbed in the pages in front of you, too lost in whatever thoughts you were wrapped up in.

megan huffed quietly, her fingers tapping nervously against her notebook. she had no idea how to break through your quiet shell, and honestly, she was starting to wonder if it was even possible. maybe you really didn’t want anything to do with her. maybe she was being too much.

but then, almost imperceptibly, she noticed it—a shift in the atmosphere, a subtle change. she saw your hand, still resting on the desk, and for a brief moment, her gaze flickered down to your fingers. her eyes lingered there, caught in that tiny detail, the way your hand looked so still, so controlled. for a second, she forgot about everything else. her heart skipped just a little, and she caught herself staring longer than she meant to.

when she realised what she was doing, she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing. what the hell was wrong with her? why did she keep doing that?

her mind scrambled to find a distraction, any distraction, but the rest of the class was beginning to settle, and you still hadn’t acknowledged her. she wondered if you even noticed her at all. or maybe you didn’t care. either way, it didn’t seem like you had any interest in being her friend.

the lecture began, and she fell silent, pulling out her own textbook, trying to focus. but even as she opened the pages, her thoughts kept returning to the quiet figure next to her—the person who was always just out of reach, no matter how hard she tried.

weeks had passed, and your days had fallen into a routine so predictable it bordered on suffocating. every time you entered your english lecture, you knew what would happen: megan would find a way to wedge herself into your personal space, like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

you weren’t sure how or why she had chosen you. she could’ve befriended anyone, really. but no, she picked you. and despite your every effort to keep her at arm’s length, she just didn’t stop. she waved at you on campus, started conversations without even waiting for an invitation, and cracked jokes even when you didn’t smile. she was relentless.

you didn’t hate her. well, you didn’t think you did. but the thing was, you didn’t like people in general. there was your roommate, haerin, but aside from her, you preferred being alone. and megan? she was like this constant, unpredictable force of companionship. it wasn’t that she was unbearable. no, it was just that you couldn’t understand her persistence. it made no sense but still, there she was every single time.

you sighed as you entered the lecture hall, already steeling yourself for another hour of megan's uninvited presence beside you. you slid into your usual seat in the middle of the room, your eyes flicking briefly toward the door. but megan didn’t walk in.

the professor arrived, and students filed in, but still, the seat beside you remained empty. you told yourself it didn’t matter. people skipped class all the time. it was hardly a big deal. especially not because it was megan. why would you even care?

but somehow, your gaze drifted back to the door every few seconds. just once, you told yourself. just one glance. you mentally cursed yourself for it. you didn’t even know why you were waiting for her, but the door stayed quiet. no ginger hair. no voice that made you roll your eyes. nothing.

you forced your attention back to the professor, but the lecture didn’t do much to hold it. your fingers tapped idly against your desk as your mind wandered. megan had probably overslept. or maybe she just didn’t feel like coming. maybe something came up—anything, really. anything that didn’t involve her vanishing on you like this.

the professor’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. class was over. students were already packing up, rushing to the door, and you suddenly realised you hadn’t written down a single note.

frustrated, you slammed your notebook closed and began stuffing it into your bag, feeling the familiar weight of guilt settle in. just as you were about to stand up, the professor called out.

“y/n, can you come up here for a second?”

your stomach lurched. you hadn’t done anything wrong. or at least, you didn’t think you had. but being singled out in front of an entire lecture hall always felt uncomfortable, and the knot in your stomach made it worse. reluctantly, you stood and trudged toward the front.

the professor gave you a quick once-over, his expression shifting from focused to concerned. “are you alright? you seem a little... standoffish today.”

you blinked, hesitating for a moment. “uh—yeah. i’m fine. what’s up?”

he sighed and folded his hands on the desk in front of him, leaning slightly toward you. “i hear you’re an excellent tutor. you work with high school students, don’t you?”

you nodded, still unsure where this was heading.

“well, one of the students in this class is struggling,” he continued. “i’ve already spoken with her about it, and i wanted to ask if you’d be willing to tutor her.”

your stomach dropped, unease settling in. tutoring wasn’t a bad gig. it was easy money, and you were good at it. but the way he phrased it... it felt like he was preparing you for something you wouldn’t like.

“sure,” you said, your voice slow and careful. “who is it?”

your professor smiled faintly, as though this were a casual request. “oh, i’m sure you know her. you sit next to each other every day. always talking. i’m sure she’s been talking your ear off.”

you didn’t need to hear her name. you knew exactly who he was talking about.

“megan skiendiel.”

you inhaled sharply, your chest tightening. of course. of course it was her.

you forced a tight-lipped smile, nodding stiffly. “yeah—no, i, uh... i know her. really well.”

your professor gave you a small, approving nod. “great. she’ll be expecting you to reach out to her soon. she’s a bright student, just needs a bit of extra help to keep up.”

“right,” you muttered, still trying to process what had just happened.

as you turned to leave, your professor called after you. “oh, and y/n? she’s a great kid. i think you’ll get along fine.”

you gritted your teeth, nodding again, though your mind was already elsewhere. the idea of tutoring megan wasn’t just uncomfortable—it was downright absurd. you knew the professor meant well, but all this would do was add more weight to the constant, relentless pressure of megan’s presence in your life.

it was as if the universe had conspired against you. your quiet, solitary routine? broken, all thanks to one ridiculously persistent girl. you weren’t sure if you were doomed or just really, really unlucky.

megan sat in her usual seat, right in the middle of the lecture hall, her pen spinning between her fingers like it had a mind of its own. the room filled slowly with the usual noise—pages flipping, backpacks unzipping, quiet greetings exchanged between friends—but her focus wasn’t on any of that. it hadn’t been for a while now.

her knee bounced beneath the desk, a restless rhythm she didn’t even notice. there was no reason to feel this fidgety, no reason for the weird flutter in her chest.

and then the door opened.

she didn’t have to look to know it was you. she’d learned the shape of your presence by now—the quiet that followed you in, the slight shift in the room’s gravity, like something steady had just entered. megan turned her head anyway, because of course she did, and there you were.

hoodie, headphones half-dangling out your pocket, that usual deadpan expression on your face like you hadn’t slept in three days and were fine with never sleeping again. she smiled before she could stop herself, a small, involuntary thing. she straightened in her seat, ready to say something.

your eyes met hers for barely a second before you looked away. you didn’t smile. didn’t nod. didn’t say anything. just that familiar blank look that bordered on annoyance, like you’d just seen someone park too close to your car.

you sat beside her, opened your notebook, and started writing.

megan deflated like a popped balloon.

still, she didn’t speak. not this time. she’d been learning—painfully, slowly—that you weren’t the type to respond well to forced friendliness. pushing too hard made you fold up like a pocket knife. so today, she told herself she’d chill. just a little. just enough to not scare you off entirely.

the lecture started. the professor’s voice floated somewhere above her, but her mind didn’t follow. her notes were a disaster—half-finished sentences, crooked lines, one doodle of a cat in the margin that somehow turned into a croissant.

she snuck glances at you in between pretending to write. you were, of course, fully focused, scribbling down notes in that sharp, precise way that made your handwriting look more like art than words. it was unfair how cool you looked while doing absolutely nothing.

class dragged on and megan sighed. she shifted in her seat, telling herself to stop being weird.

then finally class ended.

students stood, bags rustled, and chairs scraped the floor. megan moved to pack her things, already halfway out of her seat.

“megan.”

her name. her name. from your mouth. she turned so fast she nearly knocked her pen off the desk.

you looked vaguely annoyed. but that wasn’t new.

you pulled a sticky note from your bag, scribbling something down in that same sharp scrawl. without looking at her, you held it out.

“it’s my number,” you said flatly. “for tutoring only. i’ll text you the time. library, probably.”

megan stared at the note like it might explode. her fingers closed around it slowly, carefully, like she didn’t trust it not to vanish. her brain, meanwhile, completely short-circuited.

you’d given her your number.

your number.

you kept talking—something about where, when, rules—but she heard none of it. her ears were ringing. her heart was doing backflips. all she could think was your number.

“uh—yeah! yeah, okay! totally!” she said too loudly, fumbling for her phone, nearly dropping it as she tried to punch the digits in. her fingers betrayed her completely.

you narrowed your eyes, unconvinced. “did you even hear what i said?”

“yes!” she blurted. “tutoring. library. uh… numbers. yes.”

she gave a laugh that sounded way too close to a squeak and clutched the note to her chest like it was made of gold leaf and unicorn wishes.

you just stared at her for a beat longer, then turned to leave with a simple, dry, “just don’t be annoying.”

megan pouted. “rude,” she mumbled, but you were already halfway out the door, swallowed by the flood of students.

she stood there for a moment, still blinking like she’d dreamt the whole thing. slowly, she looked down at her phone, at the number now saved in her contacts. her heart did another unnecessary flip.

she groaned, covering her face with her hands. 

the library breathed quiet all around you, soft and steady like it had lungs of its own. pages turned like whispers, footsteps padded gently across carpet, and megan sat across from you like a storm pretending to be calm.

her pencil tapped a restless rhythm against the edge of her notebook. her notes were scattered in organized chaos—half-underlined passages, scribbled thoughts in the margins, and one crumpled page sitting like a wounded soldier between you.

you sat back in your chair, arms crossed, gaze fixed on her with that same unreadable look. your patience wasn’t limitless. and today, she was pressing her luck.

“again,” you said flatly.

megan groaned, slumping forward. “but we’ve talked about this metaphor, like, five times. i think the book just hates me.”

“no,” you replied. “it just requires basic reading comprehension.”

she glared at you, then let her head drop to the table with a soft thud. her face squished against the wood.

she mumbled something unintelligible into the surface.

“what was that?”

she turned her head slightly, her cheek still pressed to the desk. “i said maybe i should just drop out.”

you didn’t miss a beat. “maybe you should just read.”

your voice was sharper than usual, irritation coloring the edges. you flipped open her copy of the novel and jabbed your finger at a highlighted section she kept misinterpreting.

“this paragraph. out loud.”

“torture,” she groaned, but sat up, dragging her finger under each word like it might help them stick. her voice was quiet, cautious, like the sentence might bite her if she read it wrong. when she finished, she let out a sigh like she’d just climbed a mountain.

you didn’t blink. “explain it.”

she blinked right back. “uh… it’s raining because he’s… sad?”

you stared at her, deadpan. “try again.”

megan sighed dramatically and squinted at the text. “okay, okay—maybe… the storm is reflecting his inner turmoil? like, it’s not just sad. it’s destructive. because he feels guilty or angry or something.”

you raised a brow, just barely. “keep going.”

she tilted her head. “and... the lightning is like a warning? like something’s about to snap?”

you raised a brow, finally, finally something close to approval. “better.”

megan blinked. “wait, was that a compliment?”

“no.”

“you so wanted to say ‘good job.’ i heard it in your tone.”

“you’re hearing things.”

she smirked, sitting up straighter, suddenly renewed with energy. “admit it. i’m getting better.”

you sighed. “you’re getting less terrible.”

“same thing.”

she scribbled down the analysis, muttering little notes to herself as she connected the lines between the imagery and the character’s descent into guilt. you watched her quietly. despite the dramatics, she was absorbing it. slowly. painfully. but surely.

“what even is this line supposed to mean?” she asked, jabbing her pencil at the page. “‘his heart was a locked door, rusted shut with secrets’? like, sir. what does that even mean?”

you reached across the table, took her pencil, and jotted a few notes next to the quote.

“it’s a metaphor for emotional repression,” you said. “he’s closed off. guarded. and his secrets aren’t just locked away—they’re decaying. damaging him from the inside.”

megan blinked, wide-eyed. “whoa. that’s kind of… deep.”

“that’s the point.”

she rolled her eyes but smiled, copying down what you wrote. “okay, grammar robot. i get it now.”

“we’re not even doing grammar,” you muttered.

“doesn’t matter. you’re still a robot. but like, a helpful one.”

you leaned back in your chair, arms crossed again. “are you always this annoying?”

“pretty much,” she said cheerfully, stuffing her notes back into her folder. “but hey, admit it—you’d miss me if i wasn’t.”

you stared at her. didn’t say anything. but your silence said enough.

megan grinned. you looked away.

she kept smiling anyway, like she’d won something important. 

a few minutes later, she hit another roadblock. she just stared at a sentence like it might magically explain itself if she stared hard enough. your patience thinned by the second. finally, you reached over, took her pencil, and rewrote the line in a clearer way.

“this is why you’re confused,” you said, voice low but still annoyed. “you’re looking for answers without understanding the character’s voice. if you read it like this—” you adjusted the tone of the line as you read it aloud “—then the subtext makes sense. right?”

megan nodded slowly, eyes wide. “ohhh. okay. that actually helps.”

you handed her pencil back and leaned back again, arms crossed. “obviously.”

she copied your version into her notes and smiled. “thanks, by the way.”

you didn’t meet her eyes. “don’t mention it.”

but megan swore—swore—she saw the faintest twitch of amusement pull at the corner of your mouth. not a full smile. just enough to give her hope.

rain came suddenly that afternoon, slipping over the sky like someone had pulled a curtain closed. it started as a drizzle, soft and apologetic, then swelled into a downpour that soaked through shoulders and notebooks in seconds.

you didn’t bother with an umbrella. you never did.

lecture ended late, and students scattered from the building like startled birds, heads bowed against the wind, laughter sharp and shivery in the cold. you stepped into the rain like it was nothing new.

you’d made it halfway across the quad when a voice called out behind you, too bright for the grey day.

“hey! hey—wait!”

you stopped walking.

megan was jogging toward you, already damp, clutching a small, plain black umbrella above her head. she looked almost comical in how unfitting it was—such a serious thing for someone who was all color and clumsy smiles.

she reached you breathless, shoes splashing into puddles, her hair sticking to her cheeks.

“you’re gonna get drenched,” she huffed, raising the umbrella higher. “here—move closer.”

you looked at her, unimpressed. “i’m fine.”

“you’re not.” she stepped closer anyway, and the umbrella shifted until it was tilted mostly over you. “this is how people get pneumonia, y’know.”

you didn’t move.

her eyes met yours, and she gave a small shrug. “just… humor me, okay?”

you didn’t move.

she tilted her head, water slipping down her cheek. “please?”

that was the part you hated. the way she said it like it cost her something. like she meant it.

you sighed, stepping under the umbrella. not fully. just enough so your shoulder brushed hers.

“see?” she said brightly. “not that hard.”

you didn’t reply. you just walked. the umbrella bobbed awkwardly between you two, not quite big enough for both, so megan tilted it more your way every time it slipped. her notebook was getting soaked, clutched to her chest, and her shoes squelched with every step, but she didn’t complain.

you watched her from the corner of your eye. she hummed a little, off-key and cheerful, like she didn’t notice the cold, or the way your arm brushed hers every few seconds.

and when she noticed your gaze, she smiled at you. small. like she wasn’t trying to make it a moment, but still hoped it might be one.

“you didn’t have to,” you muttered finally.

“i know,” she said. “but i wanted to.”

the walk was quiet, save for the sound of water hitting pavement and the soft breath of her hum—off-key, forgettable, but oddly comforting. she didn’t try to fill the silence with words. she didn’t ask questions or tell jokes or try to get you to laugh like she usually did. she just walked beside you, shoulder to shoulder, like it was the most natural thing.

when you got to the dorm building, she stopped at the entrance, shaking the umbrella out. her sleeves were dripping now, her hair frizzing at the edges.

“see? not pneumonia today,” she said with a grin.

you hesitated. “you’re soaked.”

“yeah, well. sacrifice for the greater good.”

you gave her a flat look. “i’m not the greater good.”

“sure you are,” she chirped. “don’t fight it.”

you rolled your eyes and reached into your bag, tugging off your hoodie and shoving it into her arms.

she blinked. “wait, what—”

“you’ll catch something. dry off,” you said.

“but this is—wait, hey! you’ll be cold!”

“i’ll live,” you shrugged, continuing to walk down the street and passed the dormitory entrance

“uh… wait,” she said, jogging to catch up. “don’t you live—?”

“no,” you muttered. “apartment complex. down the street.”

“oh.” she blinked, still following you for a few paces. “that’s kinda far in this weather…”

“it’s whatever. i do this every day.”

“wait—but now you’re gonna be soaked—”

“i already am.”

“but—your hoodie—”

“then give me the umbrella,” you said flatly. “if i get sick you’ll be annoying.”

she blinked. then, slowly, she adjusted the hoodie on her shoulders. “fine. but only because you called me annoying so nicely.”

you turned and took megan’s umbrella, it now covering only you.

“hey!” she called after you. “bring that back tomorrow, okay? the umbrella, i mean.”

you didn’t look back. but your voice came, low and dry through the rain.

“maybe.”

that night, she texted you.

megan. megan ARE U HOME??? OR DID U DRONW DRAMATICALLY IN A PUDDLE SOMEWHERE ??? y/n i said this number was for tutoring only megan ok so u didnt drown dramatically in a puddle! great!! y/n the umbrella’s safe megan good! and thanks for not dying

you didn’t reply back. you didn’t need to. and as megan’s umbrella was sat outside your apartment door drying, you felt a small smile creep onto your lips.

megan had a theory. a frustrating, confusing, absolutely mind-breaking theory.

you claimed—on multiple occasions—that you didn’t want to be friends with her. that you weren’t interested in talking to her, or sitting next to her, or entertaining her presence in any way. and yet, you still helped her. constantly.

it wasn’t obvious, and it definitely wasn’t intentional, but megan saw the pattern. the way you always—always—picked up her stuff when she dropped it. the way you held doors open for her without even looking back, like it was just instinct. the way you wordlessly nudged her notebook back toward her when it started slipping off the desk.

it was driving her insane. like right now.

megan had just reached into her bag, ready to grab her notebook, when she froze. her hand hovered in mid-air, and she let out a soft groan of frustration. “ugh, i forgot my—”

before she could even finish, she felt the familiar weight of something landing softly on the desk in front of her.

she blinked, confused, then looked down. her notebook. her gaze flickered up to find you sitting across from her, calmly flipping through the pages of your own notebook, as if nothing had happened.

“you left it under your chair,” you said, voice as flat and unbothered as ever, your pen scratching lightly across the paper.

megan stared at you, then down at the notebook, her brow furrowing. it took her a moment before she reached for it, still bewildered by the suddenness of it all. 

“wait… where did you—?”

you didn’t even look up as you shrugged, clearly uninterested in the question. “i picked it up for you.”

“you just—picked it up for me?” she repeated, still half in disbelief.

you met her gaze for the first time, your expression flat. “yeah. it was under your chair.”

her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, like she couldn’t figure out whether to be annoyed, impressed, or something else entirely. 

“you say you don’t want to be friends, but—”

“we’re not,” you interrupted, cutting her off mid-sentence with a nonchalant tone, your eyes now back on the pages in front of you.

megan gasped dramatically, pressing a hand over her chest as if you had physically wounded her. 

“then why do you keep helping me?”

you sighed—long and loud, like this conversation was draining the life out of you. rubbing your temple, you leaned back in your seat. 

“i don’t help you. i just… react.”

“react with kindness,” megan pointed out, crossing her arms stubbornly, a small smirk pulling at her lips.

you groaned in response, standing up and tossing your stuff into your bag with the exaggerated movements of someone who was so over this interaction. 

“it’s not that deep, megan.”

but megan wasn’t about to let it go. not this time. she leaned forward, a determined glint in her eyes as she tapped her finger against her chin, squinting at you like she was on the verge of solving some kind of intricate puzzle. 

“hmmm. i think you secretly like me.”

you froze for just a fraction of a second, but it was long enough for her to notice. it was such a tiny shift, but it didn’t escape her. the sudden hitch in your movements, the way your hand stilled for just a moment too long as you reached for your bag. megan’s eyes widened in realisation.

“…i don’t,” you said, voice a little too flat, a little too unconvincing.

“you hesitated!” she said with a grin that seemed to grow with every passing second. “oh my god, i knew it!”

you quickly regained your composure, and your voice came out flat, almost defensive, but the faintest hint of something more was still there. “i didn’t hesitate.”

megan’s gasp was even louder this time, utterly scandalized by the tiny crack in your armor. she sat up straight, her grin widening, practically glowing with victory. “you totally did.”

you sighed so hard it felt like the air left your lungs in one giant rush. your shoulders slumped under the weight of what felt like an impossible conversation. you slung your bag over your shoulder, standing to leave as if you were escaping a trap.

“it’s not that deep,” you muttered, walking towards the exit, already mentally preparing for the rest of your day without this distraction.

but megan wasn’t letting you off that easy. not this time. she followed after you, her voice practically bouncing off the walls with energy. “it is that deep!”

you didn’t turn around. instead, you walked faster, trying to ignore the sound of her footsteps right behind you, the weight of her words lingering in the space between you. the only thing you could focus on was getting out of the room, away from the relentless tug of her curiosity, her insistence, her… kindness.

megan stood there for a moment, watching you walk away, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across her face. her heart fluttered, a mix of excitement and something warmer, deeper, that she couldn’t quite place. but she knew one thing for sure—whether you wanted to admit it or not, you were being nice to her. and that meant one thing: megan wasn’t giving up anytime soon.

her eyes lingered on your retreating figure, and despite her frustration, despite the wild confusion swirling in her mind, she felt a quiet thrill. maybe, just maybe, the theory was right. maybe you weren’t as indifferent as you liked to pretend.

and that small, silly thought made her smile even wider.

the library was quiet, save for the soft rustling of pages and the occasional tap of a keyboard. the usual smell of books filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of coffee from the café nearby. megan sat across from you, eyes glued to her textbook, her pencil moving in quick, frantic circles around the same sentence. she had been at it for a while now, but something just wasn’t clicking.

"ugh, this is impossible," she muttered under her breath, letting her head drop onto the table with a dull thud.

you didn’t respond right away, which was the usual. you were focused on your own work, barely sparing her a glance. but then, megan cracked a joke, her voice a little too loud for the quiet library.

"maybe this is just some cruel test to see how many times i can fail before i drop out of literature," she said, letting out a soft laugh. "at this point, i think they should just give me an honorary degree in 'trying my best.'"

for a moment, there was nothing but silence. and then, just as megan was about to continue her self-pitying rant, she swore she heard it. a soft scoff, just a brief exhale of amusement. but it wasn’t just any scoff—it was a scoff that almost sounded like a laugh.

megan blinked, looking up at you with wide eyes. your usual stone-faced expression was still there, but something was different. there was a faint curve to your lips, like you were holding back a smile. megan’s heart skipped a beat.

"did—did you just—?" she trailed off, not quite sure how to finish the sentence.

you glanced up at her for a second, your gaze meeting hers, before quickly looking away. you didn’t say anything for a long moment, but then you spoke, voice slightly more casual than usual.

"maybe," you said, leaning back in your chair. "but if you're going to make jokes, at least make them funnier than just dropping out."

megan sat there, dumbfounded. was this real? the reader, the one who had been nothing but grumpy and aloof, was actually engaging with her? not shutting her down, not ignoring her completely, but actually talking to her?

"okay, what is happening right now?" megan asked, her voice more breathless than she meant it to be. she leaned forward, staring at you like you were some kind of puzzle she was still trying to figure out. "you’re actually responding to me. this is—this is new."

you just raised an eyebrow at her, clearly not interested in explaining yourself. "yeah, well. you’re not as unbearable as usual."

megan’s mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock. "oh my god, i’m making progress, aren’t i?" 

she grinned, feeling a surge of confidence. "i knew it. i knew i could crack you."

you let out a quiet sigh and turned your attention back to your own work. "yeah, whatever. just focus, okay? you’re still not getting this."

megan watched you for a moment, then glanced down at her textbook again. but it was hard to focus now, with you actually engaging with her. you had a way of making everything seem like it mattered, even if you didn’t say much.

she tried to concentrate on the passage, but her mind kept wandering back to you. you weren’t paying attention to her at all, your eyes fixed on your notes, but something about the way you were sitting—so casual, yet so precise—made her lose her train of thought. she caught herself staring at you, and when you glanced up for a brief moment, your eyes met hers, but neither of you said anything.

megan bit her lip, then shook her head and turned her attention back to the work in front of her.

"you’re still not focusing," you said, your voice almost too calm, too detached.

megan blinked at you. "huh? oh—yeah, sorry, just… got a little distracted."

"just get better," you hummed in response, your lips barely twitching at the corners.

megan could still feel the warmth spreading through her cheeks, her thoughts jumbled and her heart still thumping in her chest. but at least, she thought with a small, shaky smile, maybe there was a chance—just a small one—that things were changing.

megan wasn’t sure what she was expecting today, but it certainly wasn’t this.

yesterday, for the first time ever, you actually spoke to her in full sentences. not just clipped responses, not just nods—actual words. it had felt like a victory. like she was getting somewhere with you, breaking through that wall of silence and indifference you always hid behind.

but today? today, you were back to square one.

the tutor session started off fine—well, as fine as these things could be—but megan noticed almost immediately that you seemed off. your usual quiet detachment had morphed into something sharper, colder. your responses were shorter, more clipped, and there was an edge to your words she hadn’t seen before.

“wrong. try again.”

“seriously?”

“how do you not get this?”

it wasn’t that you hadn’t been blunt before, but this time, it felt different. there was no softness beneath your words, no reluctant amusement in your eyes, no tiny sighs of exasperated fondness. just coldness. detachment. complete disinterest.

an hour passed like this, and by the end of it, megan felt utterly deflated. she sat there, staring at the textbook, wondering what had gone wrong. it wasn’t like she had expected everything to suddenly be different. but yesterday had felt like progress. today? today, it felt like all that work had been for nothing.

she barely said a word as the two of you left the library, the weight of your silence heavy between you. she wasn’t even sure why she was so bummed about it—this was how you had always been. yesterday was just a fluke. a rare moment of warmth she should’ve known better than to expect again.

but then, just as she was stepping forward, something happened that completely threw her off.

without thinking, without looking up from your own thoughts, you reached out and held the door open for her. it was such an automatic gesture, so instinctual, that it completely caught her off guard. her feet nearly tripped over themselves as she walked past you, her heart skipping a beat as she blinked down at the door. she had to stop herself from looking too long, afraid that if she did, you’d notice how much the simple act affected her.

but you didn’t acknowledge it. you just stepped out of her way and continued walking toward the lecture hall like nothing had happened. megan bit her lip, trying not to smile. she’d gotten so used to the coldness, the distance, that she’d almost forgotten the little things you did without thinking.

then, when you reached the lecture hall, you did it again.

you pulled open the heavy door, held it for her, and let it linger just long enough for her to slip inside before you followed behind. she couldn’t help it—her smile widened, her cheeks flushed with warmth. she hadn’t expected this. not today, of all days. but here you were, quietly making her day a little brighter with something as simple as holding the door.

she was still trying to catch her breath when she heard a voice from near the front of the room.

“ugh, megan is so annoying,” a guy muttered loud enough for her to hear. “does she ever shut up? seriously, it’s like she doesn’t have an off switch—”

he cut himself off as soon as he saw megan walk in, his whole demeanor shifting as his gaze fell to the floor. but megan wasn’t looking at him. no, her attention was entirely on you.

because you—who had spent the last hour acting like she was barely worth your time—were now glaring at the guy. glaring like you were about to rip him to shreds. your eyes were narrowed, your entire body tense, like you were two seconds away from throwing him out of the room with nothing but your bare hands.

the guy noticed, clearly, because he quickly scoffed, trying to brush it off. “what are you looking at?”

without missing a beat, you responded, voice as dry as ever. “just wondering what it’s like to have a face like that. must be exhausting when you look like a failed experiment every day.”

megan’s jaw dropped. she hadn’t expected that. she hadn’t expected you to stand up for her, to defend her in your own... uniquely snarky way. she was still trying to process the fact that you, of all people, had spoken up when no one else did.

the guy scowled, but said nothing else. he just turned back to his notebook, no longer meeting your gaze.

but megan? she was smiling. no, scratch that. she was grinning like a complete idiot. she could feel the warmth spreading through her cheeks as she struggled to keep it together. you had just stood up for her. you. and now her heart was doing backflips in her chest.

you turned to look at her, your eyes catching her expression, and immediately scoffed.

“what are you smiling about?” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

“nothing,” megan replied, her grin only growing. “just… you standing up for me was so awesome sauce.”

“maybe i should be tutoring you on how to expand your vocabulary,” you shot back, clearly unamused. but as you reached into your bag for your notebook, megan swore she saw the faintest hint of a smile on your lips.

her heart fluttered at the sight. there it was again. the small cracks in your cool exterior that she was beginning to notice more and more.

she couldn’t stop herself from smiling, her gaze lingering on you for just a second longer than she should’ve. you caught her staring, of course, but you didn’t say anything. 

another tutoring session. another hour of megan dropping everything she touched. honestly, you were starting to think she did it on purpose. it was like a chaotic performance, and she was the star.

first, it was her pen. then her notebook. then—somehow—her entire bag tipped over, spilling half its contents onto the floor. every time, your reflexes kicked in before your brain even had time to process it. a quick catch, a swift grab, a sigh. you barely even looked up from your own notes anymore. it had become muscle memory at this point.

so when megan, with her usual clumsiness, nudged a book off the table, you caught it before it even had a chance to hit the ground. the soft thud of it landing in your hand was so automatic, so effortless, that it barely registered in your mind.

her gasp was so loud you thought she might actually start clapping. “you caught that? that was so cool—”

you groaned inwardly, already regretting it. “hurry up and grab it before i regret it.”

she snatched the book from your hands, still grinning like she’d just witnessed some incredible magic trick. her eyes were sparkling with that contagious enthusiasm of hers.

“you’re, like, weirdly good at that,” she teased, her voice light and playful. “i bet if i—”

“don’t,” you interrupted before she could finish, already bracing yourself for whatever absurd thing she was about to do next.

her lips twisted into a pout, but she quickly gave up on the idea, flipping the book open and skimming through the pages like she was actually going to focus for once. you could practically feel her disappointment at the lack of attention she was getting from you. but you weren’t going to indulge it. not this time.

you rolled your eyes, returning to your own notes, grateful for the quiet that surrounded you. the library was peaceful, save for the occasional scratch of pens against paper and the faint hum of whispered conversations. the kind of quiet you could almost lose yourself in.

almost.

but then came the sighing. and the shifting in her chair. and the little mutterings under her breath, all of which took every ounce of your patience not to call out. instead, you buried yourself in your work, trying to ignore the distraction she was becoming. until—

“ugh, this is so annoying,” megan groaned, her voice heavy with frustration. her pencil was gripped tightly in her hand, her brows furrowed in concentration as she stared at the paper in front of her.

you barely noticed at first. barely thought. your eyes were still glued to your notes when, without hesitation, you reached over and nudged her paper, pointing at one of the sentences. “you wrote that backwards.”

megan blinked, looking at you like you’d just spoken in another language. “wait, what?”

“your sentence,” you said, still not fully registering what you’d done. “you flipped the words.”

she tilted her head, her focus now fully on the paper, and then her eyes lit up like she’d just discovered the answer to a riddle. “oh—wait, that makes so much sense,” she said, quickly erasing the mistake and fixing it. then, her eyes widened in wonder. “how did you even notice that?”

you shrugged, doing your best to seem indifferent. “i’m your tutor for a reason.”

“oh yeah! you’re so cool for that.” she beamed, her expression full of admiration.

your face immediately shut down. you leaned back in your chair, the blank expression falling into place like an old habit. “whatever. just finish the assignment.”

but megan wasn’t even listening. she was still grinning at you, her face practically glowing with genuine delight. it wasn’t teasing, it wasn’t smug—it was just... sheer happiness. and somehow, that made everything worse. because now you were the one who couldn’t focus.

she tapped her pencil against her chin, still smiling to herself like she’d just stumbled upon the greatest discovery in the world. “huh,” she said, her voice light, as if she’d just realised something interesting.

you side-eyed her, instantly suspicious. “...what.”

her grin widened even more, her eyes sparkling with some inside joke you didn’t quite get. “nothing.”

you groaned, not quite believing her. “megan.”

“it’s nothing,” she repeated, sing-song, her tone light as air.

you gave her a look that was part confusion, part exasperation, but she only giggled in response. and then, to your surprise, she actually returned to her work. properly this time. no more fidgeting, no more sighing in frustration. she was focused. like she actually cared about finishing the assignment.

and, for some strange reason, that made you feel... weirdly satisfied. as though, by some miracle, you had actually done something right. not that you’d ever admit it, of course.

the rest of the session passed in a sort of quiet rhythm, the two of you working side by side in the same space. there was no more tension, no more fighting to keep her attention. just the sound of pens and pencils against paper, the occasional rustle of pages turning, and a subtle sense of progress hanging in the air.

when the hour came to an end, megan closed her notebook with a soft sigh of relief. “i think that’s the best i’ve done all week,” she said, her tone almost surprised, like she hadn’t expected herself to actually finish.

you glanced at her, your expression neutral, but your mind was somewhere else. somewhere... soft.

“you’re welcome,” you muttered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

megan paused, her eyes widening slightly as she caught the smallest hint of a smile playing at the corners of your lips. “did you just... say ‘you’re welcome’?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

you quickly turned your attention back to your bag, making a point not to look at her. “don’t read into it,” you said, voice curt. “just finish your work next time.”

but megan, of course, couldn’t resist. she was already looking at you with that same grin, her heart still racing from the unexpected warmth she felt in that moment.

“thanks,” she said again, this time with a little more sweetness.

and for once, you didn’t roll your eyes. you didn’t snap. you just nodded, almost imperceptibly.

it was another quiet afternoon in the library, the kind of stillness that was usually peaceful but today felt oddly oppressive. you sat alone at a table, surrounded by stacks of books, your fingers absently tracing the edge of an open notebook as your thoughts drifted. the words on the page blurred in your peripheral vision, nothing but vague shapes on the paper, your mind a million miles away.

and, against your will, your thoughts landed on her. megan.

it was a thought that always seemed to catch you off guard, as if it snuck up on you when you weren’t paying attention. no matter how many times you tried to push her away, megan just didn’t stop. and it was honestly a little impressive.

most people, after a few stink eyes, a couple of blunt "leave me alone"s, would’ve backed off. they would’ve taken the hint, respected the boundaries that you had set so clearly. but not megan. she just kept trying. and it wasn’t even some grand, over-the-top persistence. no, it was simpler than that. it was consistent. she’d try again the next day. and the next. and even when it was obvious that you were being short with her, even when you gave her nothing to work with, megan would still smile, shrug, and try again. there was something almost admirable about it. but also irritating as hell.

you’d fully expected her to snap at some point, to get frustrated and give up. everyone did, eventually. everyone but her.

it wasn’t like megan was particularly charming or persistent in some over-the-top way. it was just the fact that she was always there. day after day, week after week. she showed up, smiling, ready to talk, ready to crack a joke, ready to do the thing that most people would’ve stopped doing long ago: be nice.

and, as strange as it was, it started to make you... uncomfortable. you weren’t used to people being that patient with you. most people didn’t give a damn if you were having a bad day or didn’t feel like talking. most people just went about their business, avoiding you when you pulled back, not bothering to force small talk or offer unsolicited help. 

but not megan.

it made you wonder, sometimes, if there was something more to it. something beneath the surface that megan wasn’t showing. why the hell was she doing this? why bother?

at first, it was annoying. megan’s constant smiling, her easy conversations, her attempts to reach out—it felt like an invasion. but then, it became normal. just another part of life, like the rhythm of the seasons. megan would show up, sit down next to you in class, try to talk. sometimes, she’d drop a pencil. sometimes, she’d just ask how your day was going, like it mattered.

it wasn’t a big deal. or so you thought.

but then, without realizing it, you found yourself getting used to her presence. the annoying little smile in the corner of your vision, the sound of her voice in your ears, the casual way she’d pass by your desk in the library, so familiar, so constant. it was fine.

and then something shifted in you, right there and then. you realised you didn’t actually want her to stop. the thought hit you like a lightning strike, and for a moment, you froze. you wanted her to keep showing up. you wanted her to keep being there. but that was ridiculous, right?

you couldn’t admit that. not to yourself. certainly not to her.

lost in these conflicting thoughts, you barely noticed megan until she was suddenly standing right in front of you, towering over your desk.

you blinked up at her, an eyebrow raised, clearly questioning her presence.

"i don’t recall texting you to meet here for a lesson," you said dryly, your voice flat.

megan grinned, completely unbothered. "well, you didn’t!" she said cheerfully, unphased by your sharp tone. "but i figured i’d come hang out."

you sighed, rubbing your temples as if to ward off the headache that was already beginning. "this is the library. i’m working. you’re not supposed to be here."

megan didn’t even flinch at your tone. "i’ll be quiet. promise." she sat down on the opposite side of the table, pulling out her own textbook, completely content to just be there.

for a moment, you were stunned into silence. what was this? was she really just... sitting here? you had half a mind to say something else, to tell her to leave, but the words didn’t come. instead, you muttered, almost under your breath, "you should work on your work for other classes too. or even just literature."

megan gave a dramatic roll of her eyes. "erm... no thanks."

you shot her a look, as if trying to will her into leaving, but she just grinned back, wide and playful.

"you’re impossible," you muttered, leaning back in your chair, crossing your arms.

"yep," megan agreed, not missing a beat. "but it’s fun, isn’t it?"

you paused, then sighed, giving in because, well, what else could you do? you couldn’t make her leave, not when she was acting this... stubborn. "fine. just don’t make noise."

"promise!" she said, settling in with her book. now and then, she’d glance up, giving you that big, bright smile of hers.

and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but glance at her once or twice, your mind still spinning with the same impossible thought: you didn’t want her to stop.

y/n 😍😘🥰😛❤️🫶 megan THE LIVRARY IS CLOSED 😭😭😭 ITS UDNER CONSTURCTION 👿

megan typed frantically on her phone, a frown spreading on her face as she stood in front of the campus library. a sign was plastered onto the doors, a sign that read “UNDER CONSTRUCTION”.

y/n yes i am aware its been closed all day megan well i dont rlly go to the librayr so 🤷‍♀️ WAIT WHERE R WE SUPPOSED TO DO OUR TUTOR LESSONS NOW ☹️ y/n ill send u my apartment address just go up to my place and ill open the door for u megan WAIT UR APARTMENT?? WHY UR APAREMTN??? HUH

megan had never imagined she'd end up at your apartment for tutoring.

she’d expected maybe a local library as the new location for a session, maybe a coffee shop—somewhere neutral, somewhere public—but instead, here she was, standing on the fifth floor of a building she’d never been to before, double-checking the address you had sent her just minutes ago.

she had to be at the right place. the numbers on the door matched, the hallway looked exactly like the one in the picture you’d attached, and, well… it wasn’t like she had another choice now. so she took a deep breath, knocked on the door, and then it swung open, revealing someone that was very much not you.

megan blinked. "oh. uh."

the girl standing in the doorway had long, sleek black hair and sharp, cat-like eyes that seemed to gleam with amusement. she was around your height, maybe a little shorter. she leaned against the doorframe, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips like she already knew something megan didn’t.

"um," megan started, suddenly unsure of herself. "does y/n live here? or… am i at the wrong apartment? sorry, i’ll just—i can leave if—"

the girl chuckled, cutting off megan’s nervous rambling with a lazy grin. "y/n!" she called back into the apartment without taking her eyes off megan. "the ginger is here for you!"

megan stiffened. "the ginger?"

before she could say anything else, you appeared in the hallway, looking as unbothered as ever. "oh. you’re here."

"yeah?" megan said, giving you a seriously? look. she gestured vaguely to the girl. "who—?"

"haerin," you said, motioning lazily in her direction. "roommate. childhood friend. not really someone you needed to know about until now."

megan gawked at you. "you’re really gonna be like that?" megan asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and mild amusement.

"i’m not giving you personal details for no reason," you replied bluntly, crossing their arms.

"you’ll get used to it," haerin said, patting her shoulder before disappearing into the apartment.

megan shook her head, not sure what to say to that. "so, uh, why the lesson here?" she finally asked, hoping to change the subject.

"my place is closer to campus than any local library," you explained nonchalantly, walking past her to the kitchen area. "plus, I can bake at home."

megan almost tripped over her own feet. "you bake? why didn’t i know this!?"

"this isn’t common knowledge," you deadpanned. "so, of course, you wouldn’t know."

she huffed, plopping down at the counter while you started setting things up. as she pulled out her books, she glanced around. "your apartment is really nice," she said. "kind of big for just two people."

"keep the small talk to yourself," you muttered, already rummaging through ingredients. "just do your work."

megan ignored you, tapping her pen against her book. "so what are you baking?"

"dunno," you admitted. "i don’t have anything specific in mind."

she grinned. "make something for me."

you sighed. "anything i should know about? any food allergies?"

megan waved her hand dismissively. "nah, i’m fine." then, after a beat, casually added, "oh, i’m allergic to cinnamon."

you froze mid-motion, your face going blank as you stared at her. “and you were just going to let me figure that out on my own?”

megan shrugged, all innocent. "well, i would’ve told you if i saw you using it!"

you muttered something under your breath before very pointedly removing anything cinnamon-related from the counter.

megan’s heart did this funny thing where it fluttered, because—well, that was kind of sweet.

she tilted her head, watching you move around the kitchen. "oh, if you’re baking something for me, can it be savoury?"

you stopped what you were doing. turned to look at her. stink-eyed her.

"savoury?" you repeated. like the word itself was offensive.

"yeah!" she said, warming up to the idea. "like… i dunno, something cheesy? or maybe a pastry with some herbs—"

you narrowed your eyes. "herbs?"

"what?" she said, laughing. "you don’t like savoury pastries?"

"i do not," you said flatly. "pastries are meant to be sweet. if you want something savoury, eat a sandwich."

megan gasped, placing a hand over her chest like you’d just insulted her entire existence. "a sandwich? excuse you—"

"do your work, megan," you cut in, already turning back to your ingredients.

she pouted but eventually started working on her assignment. you baked in the background, and every now and then, she asked for help with something (and successfully distract you with random commentary).

by the time you finally handed her a plate, the smell of something sweet had filled the apartment. megan barely took a bite before making a ridiculously happy noise.

"oh my god," she moaned dramatically. "this is amazing. you’re amazing."

you just shook your head, unimpressed. "of course you’re like this."

she grinned at you, then returned to her work. only for you to casually point at her paper. "you made a mistake here."

megan blinked and looked down at her paper. "...oh."

the lecture was long, as always, but megan found herself glancing over at you more than usual. she wasn’t sure why. maybe because something felt different—small, barely noticeable, but still different. you weren’t talking much, but you were listening. actually listening.

whenever she spoke, you nodded here and there, your eyes flicking to hers when something piqued your interest. you didn’t shut her down immediately. you weren’t giving her the cold shoulder. it wasn’t much, but to megan, it felt like progress.

the moment class ended, she quickly packed up her things, hurrying to catch up with you before you could disappear into the crowd.

"so, i've got a joke," she said, grinning, practically bouncing on her feet.

you gave her a flat look, hands stuffed into your jacket pockets. "what’s the joke?"

"okay, okay," she cleared her throat, doing a dramatic drumroll on her leg. "how do you tell the difference between a snow-man and a snow-woman?" she paused, barely containing her excitement. "their snowballs!"

silence.

for a second, megan thought she completely flopped, but then a scoff. quiet, barely audible, more of an exhale than a laugh. but it was something.

megan’s eyes widened. "wait—" she turned to look at you fully. "did you just laugh?"

your face immediately went blank, like you regretted even reacting. "no."

"you so did!" she pointed at you accusingly, her smile growing. "oh my god, was my joke that good?."

"it was horrible." you rolled your eyes, walking ahead. "don’t get ahead of yourself."

but megan swore she saw something—a tiny twitch at the corner of your mouth, a barely-there smile that you were definitely trying to suppress.

before she could tease you about it any further, a familiar voice called her name.

"megan!"

she turned and found her friends staring at her. well, not at her, exactly—at you.

"wait, is that y/n?" manon asked, her voice loud with disbelief.

"y/n?" sophia’s eyes darted between you and megan. "since when did she talk to you?"

megan felt her face heat up. "um. since always?"

lara snorted. "you wish. you’ve been chasing after her since the start of the semester and getting nothing back."

"not nothing," megan argued. "i’ve been making progress."

daniela narrowed her eyes. "define ‘progress’."

"well," megan hesitated, her smile twitching as she thought back to the joke. "it wasn’t exactly a laugh, per se, but it was, like… a scoff."

"they scoffed?" lara deadpanned. "that’s your progress?"

"no, no, it was a funny scoff," megan insisted. "like a mini-laugh."

daniela gasped dramatically. "you got y/n to almost laugh?"

megan bit her lip, failing to contain her excitement. "yeah. i mean… yeah, i did."

her friends exchanged glances, then collectively lost their minds.

"holy shit," manon whispered. "megan, you’re actually insane."

sophia shook her head in amazement. "we need to document this moment."

"you should’ve recorded it," daniela groaned. "proof! we need proof!"

megan just stood there, basking in the ridiculousness of it all. her friends were treating this like she had just tamed some wild beast, but honestly? she kinda got it.

because, for the first time, she wasn’t just throwing herself against a wall, hoping it would budge. today, something had shifted, just a little. something real.

she glanced back at you, who was already a few steps ahead, pretending to be unbothered by all of this.

but megan saw the way your hand twitched, like you were suppressing the urge to shove them off and walk faster. and she swore—just for a second—she saw that almost-smile again.

the apartment was quiet today, the kind of quiet that made megan’s own thoughts feel louder. she sat at the kitchen counter, flipping through her notes, while you leaned against the opposite side, scrolling through your own work.

the library was still under construction, so your apartment had become the temporary tutoring spot. megan liked it better here, even if she wouldn’t admit it. it felt different. less cold, somehow. but today, she felt the weight of your gaze more than usual. it wasn’t like you to stare, but she could feel it—quick, sharp glances every time she hesitated over a word, every time her pencil hovered over the page for a little too long.

she tried to ignore it, focusing on the assignment in front of her. but the more she tried, the more aware she became of every little thing—

the way she had to reread sentences to make sure they made sense. the way she mixed up letters when she was writing too fast. the way she avoided reading things aloud unless she absolutely had to.

you weren’t just staring. you were noticing.

"ugh," she groaned, leaning back in her chair, rubbing at her temples. "why is this so hard?"

"because you’re not paying attention," you said, not looking up from your own work.

"i am paying attention," she huffed. "it’s just—the words are, like, fighting me."

you flicked your eyes to her notebook, scanning the page. your voice was casual, but the question you asked next made her freeze.

"you ever been tested for dyslexia?"

her stomach dropped. she gripped her pencil a little tighter. "uh. why?"

you shrugged, eyes still on your work. "just wondering."

but megan wasn’t stupid. she knew what that meant. you had figured it out.

she forced a laugh, hoping to change the subject. "are you sure you’re here to tutor me? or did you just want an excuse to get to know me better?"

you gave her a blank stare. "megan. you’re failing."

"okay, rude," she muttered, sinking lower into her seat.

you didn’t press the dyslexia thing any further. and for that, she was grateful. but she could tell you knew now. and even worse? she could tell you cared.

it wasn’t anything obvious. just little things.

when you handed her a new worksheet, the font was bigger than before. when she hesitated over a word, you didn’t rush her. when she fumbled a sentence, you rephrased it instead of making her repeat it.

you never brought it up. never pointed it out. but megan noticed. and it made her stomach do that weird, fluttery thing again.

at some point, she tapped her fingers against the counter and mused, "you know, if you’re gonna make me work this hard, the least you could do is make me a snack."

you raised an eyebrow. "a snack?"

"yeah, you should put your baking skills to use again," she propped her chin on her palm. "make me something."

you scoffed. "what do i look like, your personal chef?"

"c’mon, pleaaaase?" she gave you her best puppy eyes.

you groaned, but she could tell you were already giving in. "fine. what do you want?"

she hummed, pretending to think. "something savory this time."

you stopped mid-motion, turning to stare at her like she had just cursed you out. "savory? in baking?"

"yeah?" she blinked innocently. "what? you still don’t like savory pastries?"

"absolutely not." your face twisted in pure disgust. "i refuse."

megan snorted, watching you pull out ingredients anyway. "wow, okay, didn’t realise you had such strong opinions on this."

"because it’s wrong," you deadpanned. "savory baking should not exist."

she grinned as you begrudgingly started gathering supplies. she wasn’t getting a savory pastry, but she was getting something. and that was enough.

when you eventually set a plate down in front of her, she took a bite and let out an exaggeratedly happy sigh. "you’re just too good."

you rolled your eyes, but she caught the tiny quirk of your lips before you turned away.

megan never thought she’d actually get here. when she first met you, you barely spoke to her. your responses were cold, clipped, uninterested. you shut down almost every attempt she made at befriending you, and you never gave her any encouragement during your tutoring sessions. all business, all the time. but that was months ago.

now, sitting in english class, staring down at the grade on her assignment, she could hardly believe it.

she actually did well.

"holy shit," she breathed, blinking at the paper in her hands. she read the grade again. then again. her heart thumped in her chest, excitement rising like a tide. "i actually passed?"

you, sitting next to her, barely looked up from your own paper. "you didn’t just pass," you said flatly. "you did well."

megan stared at you, her grin breaking across her face. "i did well." she turned back to her paper. "oh my god, i actually did well!"

you sighed, but she caught it—the way the corners of your lips twitched, the way your eyes flickered with something warm before you turned back to your notes. but megan wasn’t letting this go. she poked your arm. "you’re totally proud of me."

you rolled your eyes. "bare minimum isn’t worth being proud of."

"wow." she gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "you wound me."

you huffed, but she saw it again—another twitch of your lips. and that? that was enough for her to claim victory.

"c’mon, we have to celebrate."

you barely had time to register the day before you realised you were in your apartment again, and megan was pushing her way in, a cheap bottle of champagne in one hand and two plastic cups in the other.

you sighed, rubbing your temple. "megan, it’s just one assignment."

"one assignment that proves i am a genius," she declared, setting the bottle on the counter. "and guess what? i owe it all to you!"

you leaned against the counter, crossing your arms. "so your plan is to get drunk over one good grade?"

"okay, first of all, it’s, like, barely alcoholic. second of all, this is a huge deal for me!" she shot you her best pleading look. "just one drink? to celebrate?"

you stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. "fine. one drink."

megan cheered, dramatically pouring the fizzy liquid into the cups like she was some kind of sommelier. she handed you one, then clinked her cup against yours with a grin. "to the best english tutor ever."

"bare minimum," you reminded her, but you still tapped your cup against hers before taking a sip.

"oh, admit it," megan teased, leaning against the counter, her eyes gleaming. "you’re at least a little happy for me."

you didn’t answer. not verbally, at least. but there was something in the way you looked at her, something that softened just enough to give you away.

and somewhere in between her rambling, you smiled. without thinking, without meaning to. because for once, she wasn’t struggling, wasn’t frustrated or defeated. she was just happy.

and for some reason, that made you happy, too.

later, after the mini celebration had died down, you were both in your room, books and notes spread across your bed. megan sat cross-legged, absently twirling a pen between her fingers. you were hunched over your laptop, typing away at something for another class.

she sighed dramatically, flopping backward onto your mattress. "you know," she mused, staring up at the ceiling, "with this mark, i don’t think i need a tutor anymore."

you didn’t even look up from your laptop. "trust me, you still have a long way to go. this one mark is nothing."

megan smirked, tilting her head toward you. "sounds like you don’t want to get rid of me."

you sighed, closing your laptop, and without a word, you dropped onto the bed beside her.

megan blinked, her heart skipping, caught off guard by the sudden shift. she turned her head to look at you, and—oh.

you were already looking at her. not glaring, not annoyed—just looking. it was the kind of look she never would’ve gotten from you a few months ago.

"yeah," you murmured, voice softer than she’d ever heard it. "maybe i don’t."

megan’s breath caught. she should say something. she should. but all she could do was smile.

it happened again. you weren’t even surprised at this point.

megan had arrived at your apartment for another tutoring session, her arms overflowing with notebooks and snacks, a familiar grin stretching across her face. "i swear i'm staying awake this time," she had declared, full of confidence that, frankly, she didn’t deserve.

you just raised an eyebrow. "sure."

you both started off strong—actual studying, actual work being done—but as always, it didn’t last.

the transition was always the same: she’d start fidgeting, then rambling about something completely unrelated, then eventually lean back against your bed, stretching out like she belonged there.

"my brain is melting," she groaned at some point, tossing her pen onto the floor dramatically. 

"five-minute break?"

you gave her a look. "you say five, but we both know you’re gonna pass out."

"nuh-uh," she mumbled, already shifting to get more comfortable. "i'm wide awake—"

and then she was gone. out like a light, sprawled across your mattress, her notes slipping from her fingers.

you sighed, running a hand down your face. "unbelievable."

at first, you used to try. you used to shake her shoulder, nudge her arm, call her name. but now?

it wasn’t worth the effort. instead, you just leaned back against the bed frame, letting silence settle over the room. your eyes flickered to the chair in the corner, where an extra pillow sat neatly, a spare blanket draped over the backrest.

your gaze drifted back to megan, her breathing slow and steady. you exhaled, closing your eyes for just a second. and then you were asleep, too.

when you stirred awake, the room was dimmer, bathed in the soft orange glow of the setting sun.

you blinked blearily, adjusting to the light. then, as your brain slowly switched back on, you noticed something.

megan had moved. still asleep, but no longer sprawled out carelessly. instead, she had curled in on herself, her arms tucked close, her entire body subtly shivering.

you stared. then, without thinking, you moved.

with a quiet sigh, you pushed yourself off the bed, padding over to the chair. the blanket was soft beneath your fingers as you pulled it free, walking back to where megan lay.

you hesitated for only a second before draping it over her, making sure it covered her completely.

she mumbled something, shifting slightly, and for a moment, you thought she had woken up. but then she just buried herself deeper into the warmth, her shivers gradually subsiding.

you rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you sat back down. you weren’t soft. this wasn’t a big deal. but when megan woke up the next morning, she didn’t mention the blanket. she just smiled.

the doorbell rang, pulling you out of your half-dazed thoughts. you weren’t expecting anyone, not today. you had planned to rest after a morning filled with back-to-back classes. but then you heard the unmistakable sound of haerin’s voice calling out from the living room.

"oh, it's you," megan's voice came in, followed by a cheerful laugh. "thanks for letting me in, haerin."

you didn’t think much of it at first, letting your eyes slip closed again, trying to tune out the noise of megan’s excited chatter with haerin. the sound of the door closing reached them faintly, and you felt a slight tug in your chest.

what was that?

you shook your head, trying to focus on sleeping again, but it was hard to ignore the growing noise in the apartment. megan and haerin were talking. megan laughing, haerin responding with one of her dry remarks. it felt oddly louder than usual.

the weight on your chest shifted, becoming a small discomfort.

it wasn’t like you were particularly close to megan yet. yet, hearin megan laugh so easily with haerin, without any hesitation, it tugged at something inside you.

but that didn’t matter. you’d just rest. megan could do whatever she wanted.

then, the soft creak of your bedroom door interrupted your thoughts.

megan was standing there, staring at you. her smile faltered for a moment as her eyes scanned over the bed. 

"you, uh... sleeping?" she asked hesitantly, like she wasn’t sure whether to interrupt or not.

haerin's voice echoed faintly from the hallway, "yeah, y/n’s had a long day, don’t bother hertoo much."

megan nodded in understanding, quietly stepping into the room. she took a moment to observe you. you had your eyes shut and you were lying on your side. your body seemed relaxed, no tense muscles, no scowls. megan couldn’t help but notice how different you looked when you weren’t glaring at her, how soft your face appeared.

it felt like a privilege to see you like this—calm, unguarded. she caught herself staring at the curve of your lips, the peaceful rhythm of your breathing. she couldn’t help but inch closer, wondering what it would be like to be this close without the usual tension. she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to—

"you know i’m awake, right?"

your voice was low, slightly groggy, but sharp enough to catch megan off guard. megan blinked, looking away quickly, her cheeks burning. "uh, sorry, i didn’t—"

you opened one eye, giving her a look that was equal parts amused and irritated. 

"you’re basically burning a hole in my skull," you muttered, raising an arm to cover your eyes as if shielding themselves from the world.

megan’s heart was pounding in her chest. "i wasn’t—"

"whatever," you grumbled in response. “are you here for tutoring?”

“yeah, i hope it’s ok i showed up without notice.” megan replied.

you hummed in response as you kept your eyes shut. "just do whatever for a few minutes. i need to get ready for the lesson."

"okay," megan agreed, her voice a little quieter now as she stood up. she glanced back at you, already adjusting yourself on the bed, completely unfazed.

she made her way out to the living room, where haerin was sitting with both a laptop and ipad opened on the table.

"hey, haerin," megan called, taking a seat next to her.

"hey," haerin responded, her eyes flickering up briefly before returning to the screen. "you want to play?"

megan grinned. "is that roblox? hell yeah i wanna play!"

within moments, they were laughing, both of them completely absorbed in the game. megan was animated, laughing loudly whenever something funny happened, nudging haerin playfully with each win. the two seemed to click effortlessly, bantering back and forth like old friends.

and that’s when it started to happen.

you stood in the doorway, arms crossed over their chest, watching the two of them with a mix of irritation and confusion.

you hadn’t intended to linger, but something about seeing megan, that laugh, that carefree attitude—something about it was unsettling.

"are you here to study or play roblox?" you muttered, your voice low, though sharp enough to catch their attention.

megan, still giggling, didn’t even look up. "huh? oh, right. studying. one sec—haerin just shot me in arsenal, i need a rematch."

you clenched your jaw without thinking, feeling something twist inside. "arsenal can't be that fun," you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else.

but haerin noticed. she looked up, a smirk forming on her lips. "jealous?" she asked, her tone dripping with amusement.

"of you? as if," you snapped back, your eyes narrowing.

haerin’s smirk only widened. "sure, whatever you say."

meanwhile, megan was so wrapped up in the game, in the laughs, that she didn't catch the tension building up in the room. she nudged haerin again, laughing at some silly moment in the game. it was like they had known each other forever.

you, standing in the kitchen with arms crossed, could feel something boiling just beneath the surface. the irritation, the discomfort—it was building. but you couldn’t quite place why it bothered you so much.

it was just megan, just haerin, right?

and yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being left out. it made no sense. it shouldn’t matter. megan and haerin were fine together.

but for some reason, watching them interact like that felt wrong.

the evening was supposed to be productive. megan had shown up again, arms full—notes in one hand, snacks in the other, and that same bright grin she always wore like it was stitched onto her face. and for once, she was actually prepared to work. but then, of course, it happened again.

her laugh echoed in the living room. "hey, haerin, did my outfit eat or did it eat?" she asked, bubbly and carefree like she didn’t have anything to study for.

you groaned under your breath, flipping open your book, as if pretending to focus could somehow override the noise bouncing off your walls.

this was becoming a routine. not the kind you liked. you were supposed to be tutoring megan. instead, you sat there, listening to megan and haerin giggling over roblox like they were middle schoolers at a sleepover.

you clenched your jaw, trying to force your focus back onto the pages in front of you. but the constant giggles and chatter coming from the two made it impossible to concentrate.

"megan, i swear, if you don’t stop in five minutes," you warned, fingers tightening around the edge of the book.

five minutes passed. you slammed the book shut a little harder than you meant to. the sound cracked through the apartment like a warning shot.

"forget it. i’m done," you grumbled, pushing yourself to your feet.

"wait, what?" megan called from the living room, her voice startled, but you didn’t answer. didn’t look. didn’t breathe. just walked straight to your room and closed the door behind you. not slammed. just firmly shut.

megan blinked after you, stunned. she turned to haerin, who was sipping from a soda can like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"is she okay?" megan asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.

haerin looked at her over the rim of her cup, her expression completely deadpan. "she's pouting."

"pouting??" megan's eyes widened. she looked back toward the bedroom door where reader had disappeared, her heart a little confused. pouting? like a child?

"yep," haerin confirmed, completely nonchalant. "you’re paying more attention to me than her. it’s kinda funny, actually."

megan’s face turned bright red almost instantly. "what? no, that’s not—i mean, i’m just playing! it’s roblox! you can’t even focus while playing roblox, right? it’s like a brainless game!*"

haerin just shrugged, unbothered. "whatever you say. but it’s pretty obvious that she’s annoyed. she’s been giving you the stink-eye whenever you laugh too loud."

"i—uh—what do i do?" megan asked, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. she felt a little nervous, unsure if she had done something wrong without realizing it.

"nothing," haerin replied simply, grinning mischievously. "just let her sulk for a bit. she'll get over it."

megan stood there awkwardly, now completely aware of the fact that reader was in their room pouting over something so small. it felt ridiculous to be worried, but she couldn’t help it. she felt bad, like she had done something wrong.

"i’ll go talk to her," megan said quickly, already moving toward the door.

"you do that," haerin called after her, still drinking her soda with an amused look on her face.

megan hesitated at the door, taking one last glance at haerin. "thanks for... uh... you know, telling me?" she mumbled, then quickly headed to reader’s room.

but you weren’t the type to just “get over it.” megan realised that the second she stood in front of your door, hand poised to knock, and found it locked.

"let me in, please! i’m sorry! i’ll study, i promise!" she whined, knocking like her life depended on it.

there was a long pause before the door creaked open, your expression looking like you were willing to kill someone right that second—megan just hoped she wasn't a potential victim. 

"you should be making that promise to yourself," you said, voice flat, "because you putting off studying doesn’t affect me in any way."

"why’d you storm off like that?" she asked, eyes big with concern.

you crossed your arms, stepping aside to let her in. "the two of you were being too loud while i was trying to get you to study," you replied, the words low and flat. "it’s kind of hard to have you focus when all you’re doing is laughing and... whatever other nonsense."

megan bit her lip, feeling an ache in her chest. she hadn’t meant to cause that kind of distraction. "oh..."

"just go ahead and sit down," reader added, opening the door wider and sitting onto their bed. "we can start the lesson when you’re ready.”

megan sat at the edge of the mattress, unusually quiet, hands fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. the air between you felt thick—like neither of you really knew how to bridge the gap that had formed.

finally, she cleared her throat. "hey, um... are you mad at me?"

you didn’t even look at her. "no."

"then let me ask again—why’d you storm off like that?" she said, her voice small but persistent.

you exhaled through your nose, pressing your fingers to your temple. "because you were supposed to be studying, not—" you stopped yourself, jaw tight.

she waited.

"not ignoring me," you finished, voice barely above a whisper.

the room went quiet. you could feel her staring at you, and god, you already regretted saying anything. you hated this feeling—the way your chest felt exposed, like she could see every thought in your head.

"sooooo," she grinned, eyes twinkling, "you were jealous."

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. "get out."

she just laughed, bright and musical, the sound of someone who knew they had won. "what happened to the whole ‘i have to study’ thing?" she teased, standing up like she might actually leave.

"fine," you muttered. "you can stay. just shut up about it."

she plopped back down beside you with the biggest smile on her face, her heart hammering. you didn’t look at her, but you could feel the warmth creeping into your ears.

and maybe—just maybe—you didn’t really mind her being here at all.

you were walking to class with megan again, the morning air crisp and clinging to the edges of your hoodie sleeves. not that it mattered much—you weren’t wearing your hoodie.

megan was.

it hung a bit too big on her, sleeves drooping past her wrists, hood swallowing her whole if she tugged it up. but she wore it like it was made for her. like she belonged in it.

"your hoodies are literally the comfiest things in the world," megan said, voice muffled as she buried her chin into the collar. "like seriously, what fabric is this? cloud? dream? heaven?"

you shot her a sideways glance, unimpressed. "cotton."

she laughed, light and unbothered, her grin tugging at your chest in that way it always did now. "okay, ms. buzzkill. i'm just saying i should sleep over more often. this hoodie is the best part of my morning."

you gave her a deadpan glance. "you basically sleep over every night."

she didn’t even deny it. she nodded like that was the most obvious thing in the world. “yeah, and?”

you sighed through your nose. “do you even remember what your dorm looks like?”

“wow, so concerned for my well-being,” she said with a teasing smile. “should i be flattered?”

you shook your head. “i’m concerned because you might as well have moved in.”

megan laughed at that, the sound light and free. “lara’s actually started noticing. she keeps asking where i’ve been kidnapped to every night. i just tell her i’m at a friend’s.”

you stuffed your hands in your pockets. “funny. didn’t know i counted as a friend.”

“you don’t,” she shot back easily, nudging your arm with hers. “you’re more like a permanent grump with an open-door policy.”

“sounds about right.”

“still,” she added, voice softening just a bit, “you don’t exactly kick me out either.”

you stared ahead, silent.

“wait,” she said suddenly, eyes sparkling as she turned to you, “are you saying you like having me around?”

you shot her the coldest, deadliest side-eye you could muster. “i didn’t say anything. if anything, i’d say you’re over too often. it’s annoying.”

she just beamed, unaffected. “you never complain when i’m actually over though.”

“doesn’t mean i’m not silently suffering.”

“mmm,” she hummed, bumping your shoulder again, “but you love me.”

“since when did i say that?”

“you didn’t,” she grinned. “but if i was that annoying, you wouldn’t let me hang around so much. you’d lock the door. stop answering texts. ghost me.”

you rolled your eyes. “i do ghost you.”

“yeah, for like twenty minutes. then you reply with ‘what.’ that’s affection in your language.”

you didn’t respond right away. just kept walking, the campus around you gradually filling with other students. your silence made megan glance up at you, curious. 

you slowed your pace, glanced at her. the wind tousled her hair just enough to make her look like something out of a dream. you looked away before your brain could short-circuit completely.

then you said it—quiet, almost under your breath, but clear enough that she caught every syllable.

“okay then. point proven. maybe i do.”

megan blinked. then her eyes went wide, lips parting in surprise. and you regretted it immediately. almost. not quite.

but the way she looked at you made something inside your chest squeeze, like it was folding into itself and blooming all at once.

you didn’t even realize you’d slowed to a stop again until she stepped closer, brushing your arm with hers. she was still wearing your hoodie. she still smelled like your laundry detergent. and she was still staring at you like you’d just rewritten her entire universe.

"you—" she started, but the words stumbled off her tongue.

you raised a brow, leaned in slightly. "me?"

her cheeks burned. she didn’t say anything. just stared at you for a second too long.

you glanced at her lips.

why the hell were they so—

nope. you looked away. cleared your throat. speed-walked three steps ahead like you hadn’t been caught absolutely staring.

megan caught up easily, giddy and way too smug. “guess this nonchalant nerd isn’t so nonchalant after all,” she sang softly.

“i will literally throw you into a bush,” you muttered.

she laughed again, bright and easy, like it didn’t even register that you’d said something vaguely threatening.

you reached the doors of your shared literature class and you held the door open for her without saying anything. megan bumped your shoulder as she passed, still smiling like she’d won a game you hadn’t agreed to play.

and maybe she had.

you didn’t have another class until the late afternoon, so after the literature lecture, you headed back to the apartment, your hoodie—which you stole back from megan—still warm from the walk and mind already craving silence. haerin was by the door, slipping on her shoes with one hand and holding a half-bitten granola bar in the other.

“thought you had class all day,” she said without looking up.

“not 'til three,” you replied, kicking your shoes off and dragging yourself past her.

she popped the last bite of granola into her mouth. “must be nice.”

“mm.” you headed to your room.

haerin paused before leaving, squinting at you over her shoulder. “by the way, megan left something in there. i think.”

“what?”

“some giant bag thing. dunno. probably her entire closet.”

you opened your door and yeah—there it was. a duffle bag in the corner, looking way too familiar. you stared at it, blinking slowly, before your phone buzzed.

meganmegan heyyy i think i left my dance stuff in ur room LOL sorry 😭😭 can i come get it?

you looked at the bag. then at the text. then back at the bag.

y/n i’ll bring it.

her response came instantly.

megan WHAT REALLY? ure actually the best omg thank u i love u forever

you sighed, the ghost of a smile twitching at the corner of your lips. of course she was dramatic. and of course you were going to bring it anyway.

the campus was buzzing again by the time you got back, students weaving in and out of buildings like ants on a mission. you hated being part of the chaos, but whatever. she forgot her stuff. it’s not like you were doing this because you wanted to see her or anything. you were just being responsible.

you found the dance building easily. the music was already echoing faintly from the open studio windows. when you peeked inside, it took two seconds for megan to spot you.

she ran over like a golden retriever, eyes wide, messy bun bouncing.

“you brought it!!” she beamed, practically snatching the bag from your hands. “you’re actually the best person alive.”

“you forgot it,” you said plainly.

“yeah but you brought it.”

behind her, a voice called out. “megan! hurry up! warm-ups are starting!”

megan turned briefly to wave back, then looked at you again, her face lit with gratitude. “seriously, thank you.”

you nodded, already stepping back to leave—until she suddenly hugged you. tight. warm. her arms wrapped around your middle like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you froze a bit. but you didn’t pull away.

“thanks again,” she said, pulling back slightly only to lean up and press a kiss to your cheek. “you’re the best.”

and then she was gone. running back to her studio with a quick wave, bag slung over her shoulder like it weighed nothing.

you just stood there.

the spot where her lips had touched your cheek buzzed like static. your brain stalled. you weren’t sure how to feel—because wow, that was something.

behind her, you caught sight of the voice from before—daniela, you think—pointing at megan with a wide grin.

“i’m so telling the group chat!” she yelled.

“shut up!” megan shouted back, smacking her in the arm, face redder than the dance floor mats.

you blinked, still rooted in place. you weren’t sure what that feeling was. it was warm. light. confusing. soft.

and you hated how much you didn’t hate it.

it was sometime in the late afternoon, that strange hour where the sun was lazy and the air sat too still. you should’ve been relaxing—maybe finishing up that one book for literature or taking a nap, anything except what you were doing now.

which was pacing.

you were pacing back and forth in the hallway like a maniac until you spun on your heel and stormed straight into haerin’s room without knocking. she was lying on her bed, phone in hand, legs swaying absently in the air. the glow of her screen lit up her blank expression.

“stop texting your girlfriend,” you announced dramatically, arms crossed. “i’m in a crisis.”

haerin didn’t even flinch. “she’s not my girlfriend.”

“yet,” you shot back.

“what’s the crisis this time?”

you dropped yourself onto her beanbag chair like a sack of unresolved feelings. “megan.”

haerin blinked. “shocking.”

“i’m serious. she just—she just barged into my life. i had walls. like really tall, impenetrable ones. and she just climbed them. no, she sprinted up them like some kinda golden retriever ninja hybrid.”

haerin snorted. “she did do that, yeah.”

“it was annoying at first,” you continued, flopping your head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling like it held answers. “she clung to me like a leech. always smiling, always talking, always asking me to hang out. i thought it’d stop after a few days. but it didn’t. and now... now i can’t even force myself to hate her. like, i tried. but i physically can’t.”

“so basically what i’m hearing is,” haerin said, her voice as dry as the desert, “you like megan.”

“well yeah, of course i like megan. why else would i tolerate her? she’s a really good friend.”

haerin turned her head slowly. “no. like. you like like her.”

you blinked. “...ohhh.”

haerin raised an eyebrow.

“oh,” you said again, but slower, softer. “oh god.”

your brain went somewhere else entirely. all at once it hit you—megan’s stupidly pretty face, her laugh, her clingy hugs, the way she beamed at you whenever you did the smallest thing for her. and then that kiss on the cheek. the one that left you frozen like a glitching NPC in the hallway, your soul ascending somewhere above campus.

“i’m doomed,” you whispered.

“you’re down bad,” haerin corrected.

“what do i do?” you sat up, sudden and desperate. “do i confess? do i write her a poem? do i bake her something? oh god, she has an allergy, what if i kill her by accident—”

“relax,” haerin cut in. “start small.”

“like...?”

“movie night. invite her over. keep it casual. flirty but chill. and if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll get another kiss on the cheek.”

you looked at her like she’d just handed you a secret spell. “movie night.”

“that’s what i said.”

you didn’t even wait another second. phone out. fingers flying. heart racing. before your logic could ruin everything, you typed:

megan y/n hey. wanna come over for a movie night?

message sent. now all you could do was stare at the screen and wait. and maybe scream into haerin’s pillow if she didn’t answer fast enough.

sophia’s apartment was always home to the group. megan liked it here. it was clean in a way her dorm with lara never quite managed to be, and it had this warm, lived-in feel that made her relax the second she stepped inside. pillows on the couch. half-done puzzle on the coffee table. someone’s socks dangling off the armrest like a lazy flag of surrender.

manon was flopped on the rug like a dying starfish, scrolling aimlessly through her phone. daniela sat cross-legged beside her, braiding her own hair and unbraiding it five seconds later. lara had claimed the good chair, arms crossed, smirking whenever anyone said something stupid. sophia was busy cutting up fruit in the kitchen while giving passive-aggressive reminders about not staining her couch again.

and then there was yoonchae—curled up on the edge of the couch with a whole aura of “i’m the youngest and therefore the main character”. she was flicking through tiktok at an ungodly speed, snorting every now and then. she hadn’t said much, but everyone knew she was quietly storing ammunition for the next roast session.

megan sat between lara’s chair and daniela’s foot, hugging a pillow to her chest. she wasn’t really participating in the conversation—just nodding, humming, giving a tight little laugh here and there. her mind was somewhere else. or more accurately, someone else.

it didn’t take long for the group to catch on.

“okay, spill,” daniela said, pointing a hairbrush at megan like a sword. “you’ve been zoning out for the past twenty minutes. you’ve laughed at literally nothing twice.”

“and you haven’t said a single word about your mystery roommate,” manon added, stretching like a cat. “you’re never this quiet when it comes to her.”

megan blinked. “she’s not my roommate, i still room with lara.”

“whatever. you haven’t slept in your bed in weeks,” lara muttered.

“you okay?” sophia called from the kitchen.

megan opened her mouth to say yes. then stopped. then groaned loudly and collapsed backwards onto the floor like she was dying. 

“okay. okay, fine. i’ve been freaking out.”

“duh,” yoonchae said, not looking up from her phone.

“about y/n?” sophia guessed gently.

megan covered her face. “yes. ugh. yes. oh my god.”

“what happened?” lara asked, suddenly alert.

daniela gasped. “is this about the kiss??”

“shh!!” megan hissed, but it was too late.

every head in the room snapped toward her.

yoonchae looked up. “you kissed her?!”

“on the cheek!” megan said quickly, sitting up like that made it less scandalous. “it was just—like—a thank-you hug. and then it just... happened.”

“you kissed her on the cheek and dipped?” manon asked. “you drive-by kissed her??”

“it was instinct!!” megan cried.

daniela raised her hand like she was in school. “i was there. i saw it happen. full contact. zero hesitation. i felt like i was intruding.”

“oh my god,” lara muttered, rubbing her eyes. “and now you’re spiraling because...?”

“because she didn’t say anything!” megan groaned. “she just stood there. frozen. like a statue. and now it’s been, like, a week. and we’ve talked a little but not about that. and i don’t know if i overstepped or freaked her out or ruined everything—”

“megan,” sophia said, coming into the living room with a bowl of fruit. “sweetheart. breathe.”

megan took the tiniest breath possible and went straight back to panicking. “i like her, okay? like... like her. she’s funny in that really dry way. and when she’s kind, she’s so casually kind it makes me wanna explode. she held the door open for me once and i almost tripped. and i know she acts like she’s annoyed all the time, but i see her, y’know? like really see her. she’s not mean. she’s just... shy. and kind of grumpy. but soft. and nice. and i kissed her on the cheek and now i feel like maybe she thinks i crossed a line and—”

her phone buzzed. she cut herself off mid-rant and looked down.

y/n 😍😘🥰😛❤️🫶 y/n hey.  wanna come over for a movie night?

megan stared at it. her thumb hovered over the keyboard, typing: “i’d love to but i’m actually with the girls rn”

then she paused.

yoonchae leaned in from over her shoulder like the cryptid she was. “what’s that?”

megan jumped. “nothing—!”

yoonchae snatched the phone, eyes scanning the message. “are you seriously about to say no to this? oh my god, go. go hang out with your girlfriend.”

“she’s not my girlfriend!!” megan squeaked, reaching for her phone.

“yet,” lara said smugly.

sophia smiled knowingly. “you do want to see her, right?”

megan nodded slowly. “...yeah.”

“then go,” daniela said, already getting up. “we’ll survive a night without you.”

“barely,” manon added dramatically.

before megan could change her mind, daniela and yoonchae were literally herding her toward the front door.

“go. now.”

“be with your girlfriend!”

“again she’s not my girlfriend!!”

“whatever you say!”

the door slammed behind her with finality. a second later, it creaked open again and sophia peeked out, soft smile on her face.

“be safe,” she said.

megan blinked at her, heart racing. then she looked down at her phone, took a deep breath, and quickly typed away on her keyboard.

y/n 😍😘🥰😛❤️🫶 megan omw now :)

you were in the middle of shaking the pot on the stove when the knock came. butter sizzled against metal, cinnamon sugar catching in the warm air like a whisper. haerin had left earlier that evening, muttering something about "studying" at danielle’s place with a face that said otherwise. you didn’t question it. you just waved her off and went back to stressing over whether titanic was a bad movie choice.

the knock came again, followed by a familiar voice. “helloooo? it smells like movie night in here.”

you rolled your eyes, but your chest eased. “door’s open.”

megan stepped inside like she belonged there, like she always did lately. her eyes lit up at the scent. “popcorn? wow, what a warm welcome.”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you said, scooping popcorn into two bowls. “i was gonna make this anyway.”

“sure you were,” she teased, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “what’s the occasion? did you want to see me that badly?”

you handed her the bowl without looking at her. “what if i say yes?”

she blinked, stunned for a second, then laughed a little too loud. “uh—well—wow. bold.”

you shrugged. “you asked.”

megan plopped down on the couch with a grin, still trying to play it cool. “where’s haerin, by the way? figured she’d be glued to the screen, mocking whatever we choose.”

“probably at her girlfriend’s,” you said offhandedly, grabbing your bowl of cinnamon popcorn and flopping beside her.

“girlfriend?? since when??” her jaw dropped.

you looked at her from the corner of your eye, half amused. “are you here to watch movies with me or catch up on haerin’s love life?”

she laughed again, quieter this time. “fine, fine. just curious.”

the two of you settled on a random movie—titanic, of all things. you landed on it after scrolling endlessly and letting megan say “stop” at the perfect moment. she claimed it was fate. you claimed she just had bad taste.

you argued over every scene. she called jack dumb. you defended him. she sniffled when rose said she’d never let go. you pretended not to notice.

you sat close, closer than usual. the popcorn bowls balanced on your laps. you refused to let her share yours—not that you were mean, but because hers was made without cinnamon, and yours was not. and megan, well…

“you’re allergic, remember?” you said when she reached over.

“oh right,” she mumbled, sheepish.

somewhere between the iceberg and the heart of the ocean, megan shifted beside you. you didn’t notice at first. you were still chewing on the last of the cinnamon popcorn, half watching the screen, half listening to her breathing next to you.

the movie kept playing, but neither of you were really watching anymore. not really.

titanic had faded into background noise—the swell of music, the distant crackle of a sinking ship, the quiet sniffles megan tried to hide every now and then. her body was turned slightly toward you now, knees tucked up onto the couch, shoulder brushing yours whenever she shifted. her bowl of normal popcorn was long forgotten on the coffee table. yours sat now empty in your lap, cinnamon-sweet and warm between your fingers. there was a strange silence between the two of you. not awkward, not really. just heavy. charged.

you didn’t know what to say. didn’t know why you were suddenly too aware of how close she was, how the lights from the movie flickered in her eyes like firelight. she looked soft. softer than usual. and quiet.

the room had gone still. titanic played on, something tragic unfolding on screen, but the only thing you could focus on was the girl beside you.

megan was quiet, her eyes flicking toward you every so often, like she was trying to gather the courage to say something. she hugged a throw pillow to her chest, but her knee kept bumping yours like her body couldn’t help reaching for you even if her words hadn’t caught up yet.

then, finally, she spoke.

"hey," she said, barely louder than a whisper. "can i tell you something?"

you gave her a slow look, guarded. "you’re gonna tell me either way.”

she smiled, a small one. kind of nervous. “true.”

you waited.

and then she said it. “i like you.”

your brain flatlined.

“what?” you blinked, like maybe you heard her wrong, like maybe you glitched and that wasn’t real.

megan wasn’t laughing. she wasn’t teasing or being dramatic. she just looked at you, wide-eyed and a little breathless, like the words had taken more out of her than she expected.

“i like you,” she said again. “like... more than just friends.”

your mouth went dry. you stared at her. the air shifted, everything inside you going still and bright and loud. megan’s eyes dropped to your mouth for a split second before darting back to your eyes.

“can i kiss you?” she asked, soft. “like... actually kiss you?”

your chest thudded once, hard.

your throat caught, but you still managed to nod—slow, unsure, but real. and that was all she needed.

she leaned in and kissed you.

it was gentle, a little hesitant, her fingers brushing your knee like she was afraid you’d vanish if she moved too fast. her lips were warm and soft and everything in you went quiet, stunned stupid in the best and worst way. and then she pulled back.

your eyes stayed closed for half a second longer than they should’ve. when you opened them, megan was already watching you, waiting. you blinked. hard.

“…dude.”

she looked nervous again. “what? too fast?”

“no, it’s just…” you stared at your popcorn bowl, then at her mouth. “you’re allergic to cinnamon.”

megan tilted her head, puzzled. “…okay?”

“i was eating cinnamon popcorn.”

“ohhh,” she said, dragging the sound out like a revelation. then she smiled, mischievous and smug. “no wonder your lips tasted like cinnamon.”

you flushed. actually flushed. your ears felt like they were on fire. “don’t say stuff like that.”

she laughed, clearly proud of herself, and her eyes dipped to your mouth again. it was so obvious she was about to lean in for another kiss—you could feel it in the air, the way she was looking at you like you were the most interesting thing in the universe.

you held a hand up between you, flustered and very much panicking. “no—hey—you should not be kissing me right now. i had cinnamon.”

megan just grinned. leaned a little closer. “whatever, party pooper.”

and then she kissed you anyway.

[killishin]

— ♡ right person at the right time.

PART 02.

pairing: jason todd x reader

category: lots of fluff, angst, he fell first she fell harder kinda trope, sfw, thinking of making this a slow burn but we'll see.

content warning: afab, mention of death (reader's mother), violence here and there, blood.

summary: reader's just a normal citizen of Gotham, scrambling to making ends meet. after a fateful encounter, when he saw the reader kick ass and save a life- he can't get them off his mind. and fate just keeps pulling them together forcing him to do something about it.

a/n: right now i wanna make this as sweet and lighthearted as possible, but i have a soft side for angst :) updates can become slow since my exams are coming up.

wc: 4.8k

masterlist. fic masterlist. previous. next.

dividers by @cafekitsune

"you've gotta be kidding me.." jason muttered under his breath as he looked at you, infront of the counter, desperately finding your purse because your card just declined.

normally he didn't really come to cafés, he'd much rather either sleep in or anything but places that involved people. jason wouldn't admit it, not even to himself, but he hates the way he towers over people. being red hood, its advantageous, helps get shit done without even lifting a finger— thats where intimidation helps. there he's proud to be built like this. but as just jason, he sees the apprehensive looks, the judgy middle aged aunties suspicious looks all because he's a big guy who looks rough around the edges. it irks him truly, his body subconsciously tries to shrink as if that would do much.

unfortunately, dick was in a mood for brotherly bonding, as he worded it, and somehow getting a coffee together is bonding. and to make matters worse (or better?) he sees you, someone he has just spent weeks scrubbing off his mind. he succeeded too! (barely), yet now its down the drain as his eyes stayed glued to you while his hand twitched— to do something. save you this time, not from danger but he has a feeling embarrassment is somehow worse for you than almost getting shot.

dick comes back from the washroom, his brows furrowed as he looks at you at the counter, "i can just sense the embarrassment—" and then he pauses because what the hell is his brother doing?

jason steps forward, passing the annoyed people glaring daggers at you and gave the staff a nod, "I'll pay for her." he said politely, handing her the card. he was really trying his goddamn best not to look at you.

you stopped and raised your head to look at your saviour but realised that maybe the kind man was actually irritated enough that he'd rather pay for you than wait. horror and embarrassment seeped in as you took back your card from the staff.

"i am so so sorry for the hold up i caused— i- i honestly don't know why this was—" you begin to hurriedly apologise and he waves a hand, giving a smile that he hopes is at least polite.

"its alright. you don't need to apologise."

"no its not. do you come here often?" you requested and his eyes widened, tip of the ears going red as his brain practically shut down.

"oh wait no—" your eyes widened in horror as you shook your head, "no i meant– to pay you back. i would like to buy you a coffee someday as a payback." you explained, your hands becoming more animated.

upon realisation, his heart slowed down and he huffed out a chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "no that's not necessary." but then he paused as he observed you with a small amused smile, "but i don't think you're going to back down so okay."

that pulls out a sheepish smile from you, " so uh when are you free? next weekend uh..?" you asked politely, taking your coffee and immediately step out of the line, trying your best to ignore the loud sighs.

he doesn't what he's feeling. this wasn't how it was supposed to be. he was set on forgetting you— and he almost did, yet now here he is, planning a date.

no its not a date wtf—

"jason." he replied, "and im sorry but i really don't know if I'd be free on the weekend." he can't say why of course, he could have just lied and then ghosted you. that would have been for the best... yet he's aiming for something else.

"oh." your smile fell a bit before you looked up at him again, "is it alright to exchange numbers then? you could text me when you're free." you suggested and hoped he doesn't see you as a creep.

...that's exactly what he was aiming for.

"you really don't need to pay me back but.." he huffs out a smile as he scratches the back of his head, "i guess you won't take that as an answer so gimme your phone."

you take that time to really look at the stranger, he's really tall and built like a truck. you supposed most men in that size were intimidating as fuck but this man is anything but. you would swoon over him, you are, but its practically overshadowed by the persistent embarrassment.

he looked back up at you as he handed you your phone back and you quickly averted your eyes down at your phone. "jason." you murmured before looking up at him, smiling warmly, "thanks a lot jason, i'll hope to pay you back for the coffee soon, i promise."

"no rush, its okay. I'll text you when im free for that coffee." he nodded back at you and stared at your back as you found the literal corner of the cafe. you were going to stay but you were also too tired to leave just yet— so you shrunk yourself as much as you could, opening your laptop while sipping on your coffee. you could feel the stares— even his for that matter, but it wasn't as heavy and uncomfortable as others. like the show's over guys mind your own buisness?

you pushed the feel of discomfort out of you and focused on something better— good. bluish green. his eyes were kinda green, kinda blue you couldn't really see well, not only was he very tall but you were far too embarrassed to look at that handsome gentleman's eyes. but even the slightest glimpse of it stuck to the very nerves of your brain.

and so when you steeled yourself, taking a deep breath and encouraging yourself through yet another potential embarrassment, you stole a glance at him. right as you did, he quickly averted his gaze— his whole head actually as he started walking back to his spot.

you quickly looked back too, missing the way his jaw clenched— hands twitched, clenching and unclenching.

when he came back in line to stand beside dick he rolled his eyes, biting back a groan, "don't even—"

"its alright. you don't need to apologise." dick immediately mimicked with a cheshire smile, poking Jason's side while the other glared back at him. "i was just helping. thats all."

"yeah right." he scoffed, rolling his eyes, "sure you were. cus you're such a gentleman."

"no she was holding the line. and i need to get this stupid bonding time over with— thats why i helped." jason retorted defensively causing dick to gasp, feigning offense.

"did you just call our time stupid?!"

"i am never hanging out with you."

"heartbreak!"

"i am gonna strangle you—"

"hey pa." you said softly, the dim light of your monitor illuminating the paper cup that is in your hand, the one you're staring at. it wasn't the same from that day of course, but now whenever you buy coffee from a cafe your mind can't help but go back to him.

you were doing a personal project currently, amp up your skills but mostly to have fun. animating has been something your dad introduced you to when you were just a teen, and you turned into your livelihood.

"how's everything going? are you doing okay at work?" your dad asked, your lips twitching in amusement as you could sense the concern raging in his mind.

"its good dad. im doing fine." your thumb rubs at the seam of the cup, your mind partially elsewhere, the stranger— jason, to be specific.

"you're lying aren't you?" your dad sighed, "are you struggling with expenses? i can help you know— if you're forcing yourself in that job all because of the expenses—"

"calm down dad." you laugh quietly as you gently throw the cup in the bin beside your table, and then looking at your monitor, eyeing your current project. "its honestly not that bad. anyways, how's alyssa?"

"since when do you care about her?" your father snorted, his voice suddenly quiet and hushed, didn't want the missus hearing any of that.

"i was just being nice!" you scoffed out, but he is right, you were just making small talk. "she's alright. less moody and smiles more, so definitely better." he paused, as if debating, "we went on a date yesterday."

your father was an introvert like you, or well you got it from him maybe. he's always preferred to stay indoors, your mother was the wild one. she respected dad's boundaries but with her, your dad didn't mind going out of his comfort zone.

so you're glad he's becoming the old him again, even if its with alyssa.

your eyes lit up a bit, even though alyssa's the cause, you like that little giddiness in his voice. "that's wonderful! where'd you go?"

"nothing just exploring the town. oh yes! we went into a bar and danced a bit—"

"you danced?!"

"yeah why don't you shout and tell your neighbours too while you're at it?" your dad scolded you sarcastically and you grinned while you did your work.

"..yeah we did." he sighed and you could hear the smile on his face, "i wish you were here, to see that side of her. you would like her i know."

"hm its okay. you like her, that's enough." you doubt you'd ever like her as much your dad wanted you to but he doesn't need to know that.

after talking for a while you hung up and yawned as you leaned back in your squeaking chair, causing you to grimace.

your stared mindlessly at the screen before flashes of his face came to your mind. you smiled to yourself as you thought back to that encounter, you still don't go to that cafe. it was your favourite one and it kills you that you can't go– but you still feel self conscious whenever you go there or at least try to.

you had tried finding that man on socials, thinking he'd have a hell ton of following if he does indeed post. but came up with nothing, and you just assumed he didn't use much social. you had thought about texting him but it felt rather awkward to, since its been almost a week he hasn't responded to your 'hi', assuming he forgot about it or well, ignored it.

but really, what would you even say? your confidence isn't that high either that you could maybe 'rizz' him through texts, so to your dismay, you left it at that. just a memory that shows humanity ain't dead yet.

you got up while scratching your stomach, you should be sleeping but its a weekend and unfortunately for your body, you're yet to care about your messed up sleep schedule.

entering your kitchen you open your fridge, not bothering to switch on the lights. you rummage through a bit, fridge, cabinets— before simply settling on some noodles.

you took out a saucepan, about to switch on the light—

THUMP!

your body froze, blood running cold. that definitely came from your balcony. you know it did. sweat immediately formed on your forehead as you gripped the handle of the saucepan. there's no mistaking it— you're not gonna be one of the dumb ones from those horror movies. you keep your body absolutely steady and still as you take out a kitchen knife slowly, slowly—

"ugh— CLANK!"

that is definitely someone in your balcony. you almost let out a whimper, biting your lips hard. you start praying internally as you hold back tears. with a silent, deep breath you slowly turn around and flinch when you see the silhouette of someone. you still can't make it out accurately, you don't quite have a proper line of sight of your balcony but its closer to you than your room is, un-fucking-fortunately.

you slowly inch out of your kitchen, knife in one hand and saucepan in another. you almost felt like rapunzel and you would have laughed at yourself had it not been a really dire situation. because chances are, whoever that is, definitely isn't your flynn rider.

your hands were clammy, sweating furiously as you start to slowly inch to your room. you just need to get in, get your phone and call the police and hope for once the GCPD is on time.

but then you pause—

"fuck... she.. not hear me."

you know that modulated voice. your memory isn't exactly the best, which is concerning because you aren't old and senile yet, but you know that voice. it hasn't exactly been that long since you saved that girl and met red hood— you could never forget that voice.

and curiosity gets the better of you as your legs change trajectory, inching to the balcony instead of your room. the sliding door to your balcony was partially ajar and you cursed at your lack of self preservation.

his voice was coming out in huffs and sighs, little grunts and broken words— he sounded almost pained.

as you finally reached the edge, you risked a peak but flinched back when you heard shuffling, eyeing the shadow of him trying to get up. you were half sure— but you could never be too cautious, if its not him, you could be in a shit load of trouble.

it was getting increasingly hard to hold your breath, the shaky breath you took that sounded like wild winds to your ears.

finally, you gripped the knife and pan hard, preparing yourself for the now or never moment. you swung your pan and lifted your knife as your battle cry (which really just sounded like a dying cry) tore through the silence. you squeezed your eyes shut as you got but a glimpse of the huge man and just, attacked. swung like your life depended on it.

"wha— HEY! WOAH— fuck you almost stabbed me in the eye!" he gasped out, his hands wrapping around your wrists staring at the pan and the knife.

"huh—" you peaked your eyes opened, and there under the moonlight that illuminated him barely enough, you recognised that red helmet. your body immediately relaxed as you let out a heavy sigh. "thank god its not some thief." the pan and knife in your hands went lax and he almost flinched.

a mere citizen with a pan and a knife scared the crap outta red hood. the things that would do to his reputation if it got out.

but what really confused him is how you...relaxed. it was understandable when you weren't affected by his intimidating presence back in the alley, since you were clearly in a state of panic. but even now, it almost feels like you know him, the way your body relaxes like it trusts the vigilante.

he doesn't know what it is but it heals something in his scarred heart.

"what— what are you even doing in my balcony?" she questioned as her brows furrowed again, "so much for not stalking huh?"

and as if on cue his body snapped out of the trance you pulled him in, he winced when he felt that sharp ache on his sides. things always go sideways, but sometimes it goes a little too sideways. his body cowered a bit and your eyes followed down, brows furrowed in confusion as you try to discern anything in the darkness, and why he's pressing his hand on his side.

"sorry about this— I'll leave—"

"wait is that blood?" you whispered quietly, gulping down a gasp as your fingers brushed against the dark red liquid that was partially dried up on his side. "oh god you are bleeding."

"easy." he hissed as your fingers pressed a little too firm on the wound, his hand shooting out to grab yours, slowly pulling it away.

"oops." you muttered awkwardly as you took your hand out of his grip and took a step back to properly assess the wound, "you're really bleeding. that's a lot of blood."

"oh is that right?" he scoffed as he leaned against the railing, supporting his weight on the arm, "thanks i didn't even know." he exclaimed sarcastically and looked around. he really needed to leave, he was sure you were beginning to see him as a creep.

you sighed and stopped yourself from giving him a deadpanned stare before stepping back inside your apartment, sliding the door away for him to enter. he paused and you saw his head tilting down before looking back at you, as if he cannot comprehend what you're suggesting.

"what?"

"what 'what'? you're bleeding on my balcony!" you waved him in, holding both the knife and pan in your hand, "I'll at least fix that up. im no nurse but i do know the basic."

"oh no no i can manage just fine." he waved you off and turned around making you click your tongue in exasperation. you beat the knife against the back of the pan, making a loud CLANG! sound, and he flinched before turning around.

"you look less like red hood and more like a senile man with a spine problem and a red tin bucket stuck on his head. come in." you said, or rather scolded, pointing towards your couch with the knife.

he is red hood. he has seen enough bloodshed, a shit ton of guns and their types, knives, daggers— you name it. and yet the sight of you holding a kitchen knife, yes, for some reason that straightened him up.

"look you really don't need to—"

"i am not pitying you okay? i am just—" you paused as you exhaled in frustration, pushing your hair back with the back of your hand, "just think of it as returning a favour okay? you helped me back then. saved me from a shit ton of panic and wrong decisions— and from the gcpd. so let me help you back."

he stood there for a moment, staring at you in contemplation. he clenched his jaw and cursed his past self for even entertaining you that time, for staying long enough to get 'intrigued'. he knows he shouldn't step in, shouldn't let you help. you are a normal person, with a normal life and nothing ever good comes out from associating with a vigilante— especially the red hood. he wants to berate you for not being rational enough but he cannot, for he is quite the same at the moment. he knows the right decision but the devil on his shoulder murmurs, weakening his resolve.

besides, he really is hurt.

"and I'll also forget that you practically stalked me." you added, your lips twitching in slight amusement.

finally, releasing a heavy sigh he stepped in, dragged his feet inside and plopped down of the couch. "i did not stalk you. don't flatter yourself." he immediately felt bad though in case he got blood on the couch.

you smiled to yourself before hurrying to the cabinet in your bathroom.

he looked out of place in your apartment, it was cozy and though it looked worn down in a lot of places. it looked homely. a certain warmth in it that eased him slightly. he looked to your direction before down at his wound.

seriously why did he even come here? he was on the run and automatically his legs carried him in this direction before remembering you lived close. and he took shelter. he's never this idiotic and he could practically hear bruce berating him for yet another wrong decision. dragging a normal person in his life.

"okay— shit that is really a lot of blood." you murmured as you switched on the light, kit in your hands while the pan and knife rested on the coffee table.

you sat beside him, damp cloth in hand to clean the blood off him first. you held the cloth and turned to him, for a moment just stared at him, unsure of how to tell him to lift up his clothes which was pretty layered you could tell.

"what?" he grunted as his eyes narrowed at your awkward staring and you pointed down at abdomen, "uh— lift that up. please?"

now that things are a bit calm, you're starting to really process things. gauge the situation, which is ridiculous. you literally have the red hood bleeding on your couch, and under the warmth of your light, your rather normal yet homey apartment did nothing to ward off the intimidating aura that surrounded him. your apartment feels small because of him. you don't even know how you noticed none of that when you first met him. it doesn't deter you, no its too late for that, but it certainly adds that need to be cautious around him— it makes you suddenly conscious about your actions.

he notices the slight change in demeanor, the stiffening of limbs, stolen glances that really looked like they were trying to analyse how much of a threat he is. he is used to this kind of looks, the apprehension and a part of him is glad that you finally have some sense of preservation to be wary of a literal stranger/ vigilante in your home.... but another part maybe had hoped that you wouldn't be.

he had hoped that you wouldn't see him as the 'thug of a vigilante' like everyone does, he doesn't know why. he just met you, and yet he had developed expectations of you.

he bit the inside of his cheek, glad his helmet could conceal the irritated scowl on his face before he slowly peeled off his shirt and vest to reveal the cut. it was deep— would need stitches.

but besides the cut, and you feel very guilty for thinking this when he's hurt, but he is chiseled like a greek god. toned muscles and abs, a sliver of skin and it already has you wanting to trace them. out of appreciation, of course.

"that would need stitches I think." you remarked quietly, looking a bit green and he lets out a snort. "told you you shouldn't."

you sighed before you began slowly dabbing at the area around the wound, cleaning the blood and small debris off. "i can at least just— bandage it. you can get it stitched later. im sure you have someone to do it."

the sight of blood does nauseate you a bit, your brows and lips a bit furrowed as you focused on getting it cleaned as fast as possible.

"i knew how to do them once." you began, biting your lips often while concentrating, "my mother taught me that. but now im so out of practice i dont wanna make it worse." you murmured and he stared down at you in thought.

"you do know you don't actually owe me shit? i mean you did the heavy work in that alley." he said quietly and for a moment it felt as if that modulated voice carried more emotion than it should, "you didn't need to do this."

he sounded guarded, grumpy even. you chuckled under your breath before shaking your head, "i do actually. if you didn't come there i don't know what i would have done. if i simply ran from there the paranoia would have eaten me alive. but knowing i left it with you, a vigilante who knows what to do, i was at ease. less shaken."

you look up and smirk, "and if that still sounds bullshit to you then consider this an act of goodwill from a friend." you moved away to dip the cloth again in water.

"oh we're friends now?" he scoffed out, actually surprised you'd say that. you scrunched your nose as you pretended to be confused, "i mean we had a pretty good conversation. that has to count." you retorted amusingly, totally not serious.

"a conversation where you were panicking about the guy you knocked out." he pointed out and the mirth in his voice amplified enough to annoy you, "not to mention hurling blames on innocent me."

you paused and scoffed, looking up at him a defensively, "i was not in the right mind alright? and you were late." you scowled and began dabbing away a little too quickly. "i was nice later on."

he resisted the urge to laugh, you were still stuck on that. "oh and by the way—" he paused to adjust himself on the couch, leaning back, "i am not stalking you."

your eyes lit up for a moment, as if glad he reminded you that, "oh so you just happened to stumble on my humble abode hm?" you narrowed your eyes at him, "red, if you found me hot you coulda just said that." you murmured smugly, lips pulled into a cheeky smile as you moved away, fetching the ointments to apply.

he scoffed at that, scoffing way too loud to maybe drown out the way his heart drummed when you smiled like that. "trust me, if i found you hot you'd know." he said sarcastically and you gave him a mock stink eye before applying the ointment.

if only you knew that he did find you hot. very hot.

"your apartment happened to lie on my way." he added with a shrug, his muscles tensing and contracting when the ointment stings the open wound. you do your best to not stare at anywhere else but the wound, really you are trying your best.

"of course and your legs just happened to fall on my balcony hm?" you murmured teasingly as you covered it up with a bandage.

"...yes it did." he replied quietly and curtly, and you just hummed a smile before standing up. "so that's done. let me clean up I'll get you a glass of water." you said as you began picking up the bowl and cloth. "you want to eat something? the blood loss might have made you a bit woozy."

you pause. he paused. you just know he's giving you the most blank deadpanned stare under that mask.

"you do know i have a—"

"yeah i know i know— i just forgot about the helmet." you grumbled quietly in embarrassment before walking away.

he watches you walk back and forth between the bathroom, washing your hands and rearranging the things back. he notices you're meticulate. he sweeps his gaze around the apartment, nothing is amiss, everything in its place as it should be except a few strays lying around. another observation down his mental diary about you, you're organised. mostly.

and then he remembers the interesting set of weapons you had and he lets out a snort which gets your attention as you were walking to the kitchen. "what?"

he's peeling his clothes back down when he shakes his head in response. "nothing."

"tch— what, red?"

"....a pan."

you groaned quietly as you rushed into the kitchen, "were you seriously gonna pull a rapunzel on me?" he called out sarcastically making you let out a involuntary laugh.

"no i just—" you pause as you laugh, drinking from the glass while you stayed standing, "i was about to make some noodles. and then i heard that loud thump sound so i just— i had it in hand!" you explained haphazardly as you rolled your eyes.

"still. a pan?"

"its better than nothing— oh quit it." you rolled your eyes as you put the glass down before you crossed your arms, raising a brow at him.

"how the hell are you gonna leave though? the front door?" he got up with a slight wince as he head back to the balcony.

"wait you're seriously gonna parkour back to your house? the bandage might open up!" you gawked at him as you followed behind, "so much effort and all down the drain."

"so that's what you're worried bout huh?" he scoffed sarcastically as he turned to looked down at you and you shrugged, "i mean im proud of my work. i don't wanna see it get ruined."

"you're heartless."

"i'll take that as a compliment."

you heard a muffled laugh coming from him, your eyes lingering on him for a few moments as your hands fidgeted with each other behind your back.

"uh take care!" you called out suddenly, worried about the vigilante maybe, while he fought to keep his heart from getting ahead of itself.

"don't worry this will be the last time i bother you."

"just don't get hurt, red."

"....."

"....."

"last time, huh?"

two weeks later, and you found red in your balcony again, this time with another wound in the opposite side, just as deep as last time. it makes you wonder if the vigilante has really come to trust you, even just a shred, to come to you when he's hurt. it warms your heart.

"i was gonna sing rapunzel let down your hair—"

"i will push you off my balcony."

reblogs are appreciated! :D

[chosove]

18+ mdni | hockey player toru

an. *GUNSHOTS* *EXPLOSIONS* *CUMSHOTS* HEAVYYY inspo from this one iwaoi ff i read on ao3 in 2021. shit was so good its still in my head, if anyone knows the name lmk so i can cred properly! they did it better yall

pairing: NHL satoru gojo x interviewer f!reader

this was the interview of your career. the one that would take you from a nobody to the columnist you’ve always wanted to be. of course you were grateful, who wouldn’t be ecstatic to speak to gojo “the strongest” satoru, Jujutsu Slapshots newest star. from his innate talent to unreal looks, it’s no wonder gojo satoru was everyone’s recent obsession, including yours. this was all that was running through your mind as you stared at the tall man sitting in front of you, his lanky legs stretching out before moving to tap your foot with his, trying to get your attention.

“as much as i love when pretty girls stare at me, we should probably start with the questions right?”

finally hearing his voice broke you out of your trance, red blossoming on your cheeks when you realized just how long you were staring at him. “r-right! sorry, um” you flipped through your notebook, scrambling to find something- anything from the hundreds of questions you had for him. opening up a random page, you began reading without processing any of the words. “gojo, a lot of your fans praise your skills on the rink, but are curious about what you’re like outside the game. do you keep up your fierce persona, or is that reserved for your opponents?”

your words tumbled out a mile a minute, mouth slightly gaping when you finally looked up at the man you were interviewing, only to find him already staring at you, trademark charming smile plastered on his face. “that’s a good question…” he began, hand gripping his chin as he pretended to think deeply. “honestly im just a regular guy. i like sweet treats and don’t like doing anything on days off. i’m only ‘fierce’ as you would say when im talking to a girl for example.”

your hands were jotting down his words rapidly, the sly confession of his only registering after a few seconds. “o-oh! and um…what would you say is the type of girl you go after?”

he quirked a brow at this, head tilted to the side as he looked at you with those intense ocean eyes. “is this a question for on-the-rink gojo satoru or boring, everyday ‘toru?”

you giggled at his phrasing, wondering how to proceed. if it was any other girl they’d jump at this opening to lay it on thick (and you were tempted), but just to test the waters you decided to take it easy. “is it okay if i say both?”

gojo nodded, never breaking eye contact with you even when you looked away, unable to hold his strong stare. “well, the star of Jujutsu Slapshots would say anyone who can balance me out but still match my energy. i want someone to ground me but keep up with me if we’re at a carnival, y’know?”

you nodded, intently following his statement and subconsciously comparing yourself to each of his requirements. “regular me though, would say pretty girls like you who have my jersey number on their water bottle have me wrapped around their finger.”

your head shot up at the rest of his statement, finally maintaining eye contact for more than a few seconds. holy shit, was this your chance? what if he was just being polite and you were about to ruin the whole vibe…worth a shot though, right?

“i-is that so? ‘cause for girls like me, our ideal type is a hockey player named gojo satoru”

he chuckled at your response, shaking his head before standing up and moving towards you. “looks like we’re both in luck then. why dont we take a break now? all this talking has me really thirsty.”

looking up at him like this made you realize maybe you were in over your head, he was above you in every way including physically right now. maybe if you focused on it a bit longer, you’d find it in you to decline the offer to see his actual jersey that just so happened to be in his bedroom. maybe you’d say no to his offer of trying it on.

who were you kidding? you would never be strong enough to deny that. maybe that was the same reason you didnt stop him from lying you on his bed, slipping off your pants because ‘you’d look so much better in just my jersey’. and since you were at it, you could blame that same part of yourself for obediently spreading your legs when he asked- he was just so thirsty, who were you to deny him?

“o-oh fuck, gojo” you whined as he wrapped his lips around your clit, gently sucking before flicking his tongue against it.

“call me ‘toru pretty girl, think we’re past the formalities yeah?” he rasped, fingers coming up to pump in and out of you as he traced the letters of his name against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

he’d already pulled 2 orgasms out of you, swallowing down every drop of your essence while grinding his hips against his bed harshly, borderline fucking his mattress as he overstimulated you. “don’ have anything l-left ‘toru” your voice cried out, tears spilling from your eyes as your hips crashed against his face despite your protests.

pushing his fingers deeper, he curled them to reach all the spots you never could, repeating the movement until he found that spot that left you gasping for air. “thereeeee she is, pussy’s dripping all over me but ya have nothin’ left?” satoru laughed ay the irony of your words, relishing in the way he seemed to memorize sll the sensitive parts in your body this fast. “go ahead n’ cry pretty, but don’t lie to me”

your voice cried out a sound you thought was his name, but it was hard to be sure at this point. with how rapidly he was fingerfucking you while his mouth attacked your clit, you weren’t sure you’d ever produce a coherent word again. it didnt take long until you were once again on the edge of cumming, hands flying to his head as you desperately humped against his face. satoru didn’t complain though, he’d die happily if it was between your legs.

“c-cummin…’toru i c-can feel ngh”

‘that’s right princess, cream all over my fuckin’ fingers, know how bad your pussy needs this yeah?” his muffled voice spoke into your cunt, impoosibly apeeding up his ministrations until he watched your body convulse against him, a spray of clear liquid shooting out of your pussy.

riding out your orgasm against his tongue, you finally flopped back and attempted to catch your breath, eyes going wide when you felt his hands pull his jersey up to expose your tits.

“think ya can squirt again for me, but on my cock this time?”

[dovveri]

ordinarily

synopsis: you’re having a few issues with your sex life so you decide to start seeing a sex therapist with your boyfriend

warnings: reader receiving, cheating, lots of sex talk bcs this entire fic is literally set around sex, fingering, clitoral stimulus, vibrators, dildos + strap on, sana watches reader masturbate

w/c: 7.8k

a/n: if u didn't know im a psych student and this idea came to me at 3am while cramming sexual dysfunctions for my finals and i ltr wrote this in a few hours bcs i was OBSESSED - that being said this is all still fictional bcs... let's be honest i js wanted to have sex with dr sana but some of the facts are still real! the treatment however... not so real LMAO

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“ms. l/n?”

“yes!” you scramble upwards at the sound of your name, pulling your boyfriend up with you and walking briskly towards the woman who’s called you. she offers a kind smile, gesturing for you to follow her.

“is it alright if i bring my boyfriend along?”

she nods, “yes that’s fine. it’s actually customary that both partners are here for appointments like these.”

she leads you towards her office, a clean, organised room with a small couch next to the doctor’s table and chair, and what looks like an upgraded version of a classic examination table.

she seats you both and rolls her chair forward so she’s facing the both of you when she talks. “so how can i help you today ms. l/n?” her eyes are kind, a hint of a smile on her lips.

“u-um just y/n is fine dr. …” you glance to her badge, “minatozaki.”

“alright y/n. sana is fine for me too then.” she smiles.

“r-right sana. so we’ve just been having some trouble with our- um- sex life recently and i think it’s mainly my fault.”

she frowns a little, picking up a notepad on her table to jot down some things, “why would you think that?”

“um well- i- i haven’t um- i’ve never had a penis in me before. my previous male partners would only ever use their hands or mouth but because we were getting a little more serious than that, i wanted to let ben-“ you glance at your boyfriend who looks a little uncomfortable, shifting around in his seat a little, “be the first and we’ve tried for a while now but it’s always just too painful? and i know everyone says the pain passes and whatever but it never seems to pass for me…” you blush, getting progressively embarrassed as you go on.

"i see. do you mind if i ask you a few questions about your sex life?"

you nod, feeling intimidated by the things she's jotting down into her notepad.

"how long has this been going on?"

"umm- i'd say we've tried to have penetrative sex for about 2 months now?"

"have you ever experienced anything like this before?"

"no."

"do you have any history of previous mental health problems?"

"not really, no."

"when you attempt to have sex, do you engage in foreplay?"

"u-um... yes."

"and are you able to secrete natural lubricant from that?"

ben lets out an undignifed snort. you elbow him, face burning red when sana looks up from her notepad, narrowing her eyes at ben who shrinks in his seat, covering his mouth.

"u-um yes i think so."

"ben? is this true?" sana's eyes are locked on ben.

"sorry doc are you asking me if my girlfriend gets wet?"

"for lack of better words yes."

"well yes she gets plenty wet. i always make sure she's turned on before i go in. if you’re asking about if i'm good at sex then yes. i am. plenty of girls in the past have cum because of me."

"i didn't ask that but thank you for your contribution." sana says a little sarcastically, looking back towards you and then down to her notepad. you elbow ben again in response who glances at you slightly annoyed, the tips of his ears red.

"what sorts of foreplay activity do you engage in, does it arouse you, and on average how long would you say your foreplay would go on for?"

"i- um- i-"

"this is a safe space. everything i'm asking is purely for diagnosis reasons, there's nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about, i deal with lots of clients everyday who come in and have talked about much more bizarre things and none of them are nearly as attractive as you are which makes it a lot worse when someone comes in here claiming they have sexual proclivities towards aliens or otherworldly beings."

you blush, the throwaway compliment in there didn't fly past you. "do people really ask about that?"

sana chuckles a little, "oh you'd be surprised the things people come in here about."

you laugh a little in response as well, feeling more comfortable around the doctor, "um well i guess we do all the normal stuff. kissing, whatever, um it usually lasts about... 10 minutes?" you turn to ben who shakes his head a little so you correct yourself, "20 minutes maybe. and um yeah i guess it does arouse me."

sana hums, making a few more notes, "are your nipples sensitive? your breasts? does he play with them? what about your clitoris?"

"i- um- yes... to all of those."

"have you ever orgasmed before?"

"i- yes."

she senses the hesitation in your voice, looking up curiously, "have you orgasmed during sexual relations with ben?"

you shuffle in your seat a little uncomfortably. ben looks at you expectedly, but you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes.

"yes. yes she has." ben replies for you instead when he realises you're not responding.

sana's eyes cut to his with a scowl forming on her face, "did you know only 64.4% of women are able to reach their orgasm during sex? and that number is even lower when the sex is just penetrative? in comparison, 91.3% of men reach their orgasm, in fact, sexual dysfunction in men is actually more common when men orgasm too fast."

ben raises an eyebrow defiantly, "your point doc?"

"that it's normal for women not to reach orgasm. and normal for them to fake it when their boyfriends are pretentious assholes that think they have the best game in the world but in reality, have inflated egos that would easily be shattered if he found out he wasn't as good as he thought he was. most of these women care too much about hurting their partner's feelings than to tell the truth."

ben leans forward aggressively, ignoring your protests for him to sit back down, "i don't know what kinda whack patients you got in here doc but i'm not one of them. i don't need anyone to worry about my feelings like you women do."

sana rolls her eyes, not backing down from his intimidation, "do you have any problems with sexual activity? come too fast? not able to get it up? not able to come?"

ben sputters, "w-what?! who do you think i am?!"

"it's a yes or no question."

"no! i don't have any of those problems! i told you i'm not one of your weird patients!"

"alright that's all we'll be needing from you today. i think this session will be much more productive for y/n if you leave the room. so if you'd please-" she stands up and opens the door, indicating for him to leave.

"what? you can't just kick me out! this is my girlfriend! i'm just as involved in this as she is!"

"actually, since you haven't admitted to having any problems with sex, and you've both said that foreplay and arousal is adequate, there's nothing more that involves you. so yes, i can kick you out."

ben looks back at you, his face red, but you push him forward, "just go ben don't make a scene. i'll see you outside." he frowns, sending a final glare to sana before stomping out the room.

sana closes the door softly after him, settling back down with a sigh.

"i'm so sorry about him i didn't know he would react like that i-"

"it's okay y/n. this is actually quite common. sexual dysfunction is often severely underreported in men, because of the masculine standards they put themselves up to, lots of them won't seek treatment. that's why most of the clients we get are women who come in here with their boyfriends, and a lot of the time these boyfriends don't think they have anything to do with the women's sexual dysfunction, and a lot of them can't accept that they do."

"but you just said-"

"i know what i said. and it's true that if your foreplay is indeed enough and arousing for you, and that this isn't because of any sexual dysfunction he may have, then it no longer directly regards him. however, just because it doesn't directly involve him, doesn't mean it's got absolutely nothing to do with him. i do think i have an idea of what you're going through, but to confirm i'd like to ask a couple more questions if that's okay with you? and hopefully you can be fully honest with me now that ben isn't here."

you shuffle in your seat a little. "yeah of course."

she smiles, going back to her notepad, "so backtracking a bit, i'm assuming ben hasn't been able to make you orgasm?"

you blush, shaking your head.

"how about with previous partners? is there anything they've done that's helped you reach that orgasm or are there any similarities you can think about between them?"

"mm well for one, i've only ever been able to come when i'm with women."

"oh?" sana looks up again over her specs, a twinkle in her eye.

"u-um yeah and with them it's mostly um, using their hands or oral, and even then i normally need at least some clitoral stimulation to come. i have tried using dildos before but i also find it a little too painful, but i'm at least able to bear it when it's with a woman, with ben i kinda just push him off because it's all too much."

"i see. that's quite normal. most women do require clitoral stimulation to be able to orgasm. a very small proportion of women are actually able to come from penetration alone. do you masturbate?"

you blush again, fiddling with your fingers, but her friendly smile reassures you, "yes. well- less since i've been with ben because he doesn't really like it when he finds out i've touched myself. he gets a little offended and always says i don't need to masturbate when i have him. he takes offense because he thinks i'm doing it since he's not doing a good enough job or something."

"hmm." she hums, jotting something else down, "is he doing a good enough job? i know you said foreplay was fine but i just wanted to check in on that again."

"he's alright i guess. like most men i've been with in the past he does kinda rush things a little, and he does do foreplay it's just a little rougher than i like sometimes. i also think um-" you blush, eyes flickering around the room.

"mm?" sana smiles gently again, encouraging you.

"i think he has trouble finding my clit? or i don't know he always kinda fumbles around when he fingers me so his hands always brush against my clit a little too rough and then he presses down on parts where he thinks it is and asks me if it feels good."

sana hums again, writing down some more notes before the next question. "so back to masturbation, before ben, how often would you say you masturbated?"

"oh u-um, maybe like once a month?"

"and you're able to make yourself come?"

"sometimes. sometimes it just gets too tiring and i end up just falling asleep."

"i see." sana writes a few finishing notes and then places her notepad on the table. "so from what you've told me today, it would seem like you have something called genito-pelvic pain or penetration disorder. normally this sort of behaviour has to go on for at least 6 months before it is diagnosable, but even though it’s only been two months for you, we can still work on ways to improve your symptoms. so there's nothing physically wrong with you or your body, this is more of a cognitive response to a fear of pain from penetration. what happens is because of this fear, you're vaginal muscles tighten when you're about to have sex, they're trying to protect you from this invasive thing that's going to enter your body and that it thinks will cause you a lot of pain. this is why it's so much more painful when someone does penetrate you, because you're muscles are already working actively to try and push it out, they only get tighter and tighter making sex more painful for you. this kinda creates this cycle of fear because it does hurt when you have sex, so the next time it happens, your muscles learn to anticipate this pain and try to close you off from this external invasion. does that kinda make sense?"

you nod a little hazily, the words floating around in your head.

"it's a good thing that you're still able to take penetration though. in some extreme cases women's vaginas have been sealed so tight penis penetration is impossible. now there aren't any medications for this unfortunately, but the main treatment is to unlearn this fear that's maintaining the disorder, and eventually you'll be able to engage in sex that is enjoyable for you again."

"how would i unlearn that?"

"well first of all, masturbation helps. a lot. you say you were only really doing it once a month in the past but actually, masturbating weekly or even twice a week is perfectly normal. and i know you said your boyfriend doesn't really like it but... well it's your body right? if he can't make you feel good then you need to start learning how to make yourself feel good. you need to start turning sex into a positive experience again. later down the line, that also means a lot more foreplay than what you're currently doing. i'm talking like an hour at least. using lube as well will be extremely useful, even if you are wet, it always helps to be fully prepared for that first penetration. i know this all sounds like a lot right now so we'll start slow. would you mind getting up on the examination table and taking off your pants and underwear. i'd like to examine your pelvic muscles a little more closely."

you nod, shuffling onto your feet and beginning to strip out of your clothes. sana pays you no mind, grabbing a new pair of gloves and slipping them on. you figure sana has done this plenty of times in the past, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. well... aside from the fact that sana was really pretty and her really pretty hands were about to be touching you and-

she's turning back around when you lay on the examination table, hands crossed on your stomach, fiddling with your fingers. you avoid her gaze but catch the way her eyes linger a little on your legs. she moves closer towards you, you keep your gaze fixed on the ceiling, feeling the tips of your ears go red at the attention.

she giggles a little and you're confused, "y/n you have to open your legs for me to be able to see anything."

"oh right i- um-" you shyly spread your legs apart, revealing your cleanly shaven lips.

sana squeezes something into her hand, "this is just lube. to see your pelvic muscles in action means i'll have to part your walls so i'm just lubricating them to make it a little more comfortable for you." she looks up at you, waiting for your consent, and when you nod, she gets straight to work.

you gasp at the cold feeling of the lubricant running down your folds, wiggling a little. then, sana's hands come in and start massaging the lube along your folds, spreading it so it covers the entire surface area of your core, fingers gentle as she spreads the liquid. your breath catches a little when she bypasses your clit, squeezing your hands together, and trying your best to not make any inappropriate sounds while in your doctor's office.

you sneak a glance down at her, watching the way she has her lip caught between her teeth while she focuses, eyes glued to your folds. she spreads your lips and starts applying the lube on your inner folds as well, meticulous with her work, making sure no slice of skin was missed.

"i'm going to start prodding around your entrance now alright?"

you can only choke out a hum in response, not trusting your voice to give away the fact that this was turning you on very much.

one of her fingers glides down to your entrance, her other hand still holding your lips open, and she starts to poke gently at your entrance, you can feel when a short fingernail dips in just slightly, wiggling around a little to try and loosen you up. at this point you're kinda glad sana went with the lube because it meant she couldn't tell she was actually getting you spectacularly wet on her own, your own slick mixing with the lube she's spread all over.

she starts pushing a finger in very slowly, but you cringe a little and shuffle your hips when she's about a knuckle in. she pulls out gently, "hurts?"

you nod, "a little."

she starts pressing gently against your folds again, "i'm just going to try massage your folds from the outside, hopefully it'll get your muscles to relax a little with some stimulation."

it is relaxing, the way she's gently pressing into you, it’s certainly never like anything you’ve felt before, it turns you on, but also eases you, it’s a combination you’ve never experienced.

when she gently runs a finger over the hood of your clit your hips jerk and you gasp.

“sorry! too much?” sana backs away quickly, hands raised so you can see she’s no longer touching you.

you inhale, forcing yourself to look at her, your gaze a little blurry, eyes lidded, “n-no. that was- g-good actually.” your voice is a lot scratchier than it was, you can’t believe how turned on you are from just minutes of being with her. “a-actually would it- um- are you allowed to take your gloves off? like if you want to! you don’t have to if you think it’s gross or anything i just think it could help a little so you can feel exactly where your skin and nails touch me.”

sana raises an eyebrow, seeming to consider you, and you want to crawl back into your pants, run away and never see be seen in public again the longer she takes to regard you.

but then wordlessly, she takes her gloves off, flicking them into the bin and reaching for the bottle of lube.

“oh um- you don’t have to. i’m wet enough i think.”

sana smirks then, squeezing some into her palm, “oh sweetie i know. remember what i said about lubing up anyway though? there can never be too much lube.”

you blush at the pet name, gritting your teeth when you feel the cool liquid and the soft touch of her fingers again. except this time it’s so much more real, you can feel every single brush, every stroke, every movement of her fingers against you. when she brushes against your clit again, you can’t help the faint moan you let out. your cheeks burn in embarrassment when you feel her still her movements against you. “s-sorry i-“

“it’s okay. you can make as many sounds as you want. just relax. stop thinking sweetie.” she brushes over your clit again, with a little more purpose this time, and you let out another whimper, trying to stop your hips from grinding against her hand.

the next few minutes are torturous. you're biting back moans every 2 seconds, focusing on keeping your hips solidly on the examination table, hands clenched tight together, you’re so wet you can hear the way she's sliding through your folds much more easily now, able to insert the entire length of her fingernail in with each stroke downwards. your breathing has gotten observably heavier, each inhale and exhale is strained, and you certainly couldn’t look at sana anymore, eyes glazed, just trying to focus on not giving yourself away.

"i’m gonna try go in again now okay?"

you nod, a little desperately, closing your eyes to block out the sight of her between your legs.

she gently prods at your entrance, now able to slide a knuckle in fairly easily, you feel like jelly around her, unable to control your own movements when you jolt downwards, sucking in more of her finger and moaning at the feeling.

“alright?”

“mhm just- just do it.”

“do what sweetie?”

“just- you know-“

“hmm?” she slips a little further in, and you clench around her, your muscles trying to trap her inside of you.

“f-fuck- i- yeah- fuck-“

she giggles a little and you flush, you realise again that she’s very attractive and very good with her hands and those hands are now inching even deeper into you, and before you know it, she’s got her entire finger buried inside of you.

you’re breathless at the feeling.

“painful at all?”

“n-no. not at all. feels- um- g-good.”

you can hear the smirk in her voice when she teases, “you feel good.”

you clench around her at the praise, unaware that sana’s trying her very best to stay as professional as possible, despite wanting so badly to rid you of all your clothes and fuck you until you were moulded to only be able to take her.

“relax baby. i’m going to slide back out now okay?”

you whine when you feel her retreating slowly, your walls gripping her finger, urging her to stay inside. but she comes out until just the tip of her finger is in you, and then pushes in again, filling you up deliciously.

you exhale deeply, back arching at the feeling.

“good?”

“fuck- so fucking good oh god-“

she’s pulling out and pushing in again, slow and careful, watching your body for any signs of pain and fixed on the way your face contorts in pleasure at the feeling of being sexually satisfied for the first time in months.

“think you can take another?” you peek open your eyes to find that sana looks slightly more dishevelled than before, her breathing also a little irregular now, her voice low with lust. you gulp at the sight.

“y-yeah.”

now that you've caught a glimpse of her, you can't look away, your eyes tracing the way her gaze is a little clouded, her tongue peaking out to wet her lips. then she's pushing in again with a second finger, rubbing your clit lightly with her other hand and pressing down onto the external parts of your folds to get you to loosen up.

you suck her in easily, whimpering a little when she stops and looks up at you in concern.

"k-keep going p-please- i can take it- fuck-"

so she continues her journey, pressing in deeper, and deeper, until she's able to fit two fingers snugly inside of you. you moan when she fills you up, pulsing around her, muttering curses and hands moving to hold onto the sides of the examination table.

but then, sana's pulling out again, and this time she doesn't come back. she clears her throat, moving towards the sink in her office to wash herself up.

you clamber onto your elbows hazily, completely soaked and watch in confusion as she dries her hands, her cheeks flushed.

"i think that's enough for today y/n. you can use the sink and this towel here to clean yourself up and get dressed. i'll wait for you outside." she doesn't spare you another glance and slips outside the room, closing it behind her to give you some privacy.

you take a second to recover because what the fuck just happened? you can only follow her instructions dumbly, picking up the towel she's left for you and cleaning yourself up, still incredibly sensitive when you twitch with each swipe along your folds. you put your clothes back on and rearrange your hair so that it doesn't look like you were just about to come mere minutes ago.

once you're tidied up and you've cleared your mind, or at least pushed all the lustful thoughts about being fucked into the table aside, you step outside the office, looking around to find that sana's with ben at the front desk, talking to the receptionist.

you clear your throat to announce your presence when you walk up to them. ben seems to have calmed down and he kisses your cheek sweetly when you sidle up next to him. you take note of the way sana eyes the action, her grip on the pen getting just a little tighter.

"alright y/n. i talked with ben to get an idea of your availability so i hope it's okay that i've booked you in for another session in about 2 weeks."

"yes that's fine!" your voice comes out unintentionally higher than you meant it to. the nerves and confusion hitting you at once.

"and i'll also set you a little homework. like we talked about, masturbation is key to getting better. so here's a self-care kit, it's got a clitoral vibrator and a few different dildo sizes as well as a couple of bottles of lube. i want you to try using the vibrator first, get used to the feeling of orgasming, and then start to bring in the smallest dildo. ben can watch if you want him to or help, but just remember what i said about making sex a positive experience. that's the main purpose of all of this, just relearning that sex is good and that it’s meant to be fun and enjoyable. i'll check with you in 2 weeks how the progress is going and we'll go from there. any questions?"

the entire time she talks to you, she barely looks into your eyes, it's clear she's already discussed all of this with ben who looks more than happy to be a bystander to your sexual pleasure if it meant he would be able to have sex with you later on. you find yourself a little disappointed that she won't acknowledge you. you shake your head no, and she slides you a few forms and the self-care package she mentioned, discreetly wrapped and in a cute little takeaway bag.

"great i'll see you in two weeks y/n. if you'll excuse me now." she sidesteps you and walks briskly back into her office, your eyes trail after her, but you shake the feelings from your head, refocusing on the present and the way ben has his arm wrapped around you.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

it's a fortnight later and you're sitting in a familiar waiting room, this time without ben because you convinced him to stay behind after his retaliatory actions the last time he was here. maybe you also just wanted to see sana alone but you weren't going to tell him that.

if you were being honest, sana hasn't left your mind once since you left the clinic two weeks ago. even when you were completing her assigned homework tasks, it wasn't broad muscles and rugged facial hair that you were thinking of, no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts always drifted back to the way sana had handled you so carefully, the way her fingers felt inside you, how she paid attention to every single reaction you made, every small sound, twitch, how attentive she was. and sometimes your thoughts drifted into territory that was a little more imaginative. those usually consisted of sana using the various toys she'd given you to bring you to heights you weren't able to bring yourself to.

"y/n?"

your head snaps up at the voice. you beam seeing her, she has her hair up today, pretty earrings and perfect features accentuated. she smiles in response at you, gesturing you to follow her to her office.

you settle into the familiar office again, much more relaxed and excited than the last time you were here.

"i see you're looking a lot more chipper than 2 weeks ago." sana comments with a smile, grabbing her notepad that you recognise from last week.

"just happy to see you again."

her smile fades a little at that, but you don't let that discourage you.

"right... so tell me how your fortnight has been. have you attempted to have sex with your boyfriend again? uh... bryson was it? or brendan?"

"ben. and no we haven't had sex again. i also took your advice and let masturbation be just a personal experience. he asked to watch and help but i told him it would be better if he didn't."

"that's good to hear. how has the masturbation been?"

"great! you were right! i've forgotten what having sex just for the sake of doing it for myself felt like. i've spent so long thinking i enjoyed it when i was really just an item for my partner's satisfaction. in a sense that brought me joy as well, being able to provide a source of happiness for them, but i realised that that's not a healthy thing to keep doing."

sana smiles genuinely, "very good y/n. i'm glad that masturbation has helped you realised that. how about your vaginal muscles? did you try using the dildos in the self care package?"

"um- yes i did but- i was actually hoping- uh-"

"hmm? what is it?"

"well i still haven't really been able to cum from using the dildos, only from the vibrator. it's not as painful anymore to put them in, and i'm still working up the sizes, but it still doesn't really feel good? like it just feels like there's something in me, it doesn't really derive pleasure or anything like that."

sana hums, thinking a little, writing down a few notes before closing her notepad. "would you show me?"

"i- um- sorry what?"

"how you've been masturbating. it may be something with the technique, but if it's something else more serious, i'd need to know about it."

"oh! yeah of course." you stumble upwards, repeating your movements from 2 weeks ago, stripping of your clothes, except this time, you take your top off as well.

sana yelps and turns around at your abrupt show of skin.

"something wrong sana?"

"oh- um- no nothing i just thought- um- i didn't think there was reason for your top to be off as well-"

"you wanted to see how i touched myself right? i generally try and stimulate my tits as well since my nipples are quite sensitive."

"right... yes of course." she turns around again, avoiding your gaze and looking to the floor, waiting for you to get on the examination table.

your lips quirk a little at how shy she's being, "is something the matter sana? you see naked bodies all the time in this line of work don't you? and you pretty much saw me naked last time as well..."

sana blushes even brighter, "um- well- yes but- most of my patients tend to be middle aged and they certainly aren't as attractive as you are."

"you think i'm attractive?" you're laid on the examination table now, head turned to the side so you can watch as the doctor fumbles where she's seated, still not looking at you.

"i- um- well- forgive me- i'm trying really hard to be professional right now and-"

"is that why you left in such a hurry during our last session?" you start trailing your hands over yourself, finding yourself easily aroused in the presence of the other woman.

"oh- um- well- yes i- i didn't want to make you uncomfortable-"

you moan gently when a practiced hand glides up to squeeze softly at a tit, the other sliding down slowly towards your centre. "you could never make me uncomfortable sana. well actually... i was only really uncomfortable when you left me so empty last time. i couldn't wait to go home and try out the toys you gave me, i haven't felt so turned on in so long and i needed to get that out of my system as soon as i could." you're trying to get a rise out of her, but everything you're saying is the truth anyway.

sana's eyes are on you now, wide and a little shocked at the words coming out of your mouth, and you revel in the way that meant her eyes now travelled your body. you try and angle yourself so she can see the way you squeeze at your breast, brushing over a nipple lightly with your palm and watching it pebble in reaction, your other hand dipping down to trace along your folds, finding that you're already dripping, the fact that the object of your sexual desires for the last 2 weeks is now only inches away from you, watching you touch yourself, driving you further off the edge of sanity.

"y/n..." sana's voice comes out almost 2 octaves lower than her usual register. you catch the way she wets her lips and crosses her legs.

"i'm so wet already i don't even need lube. and i know you kept saying to use it no matter what and trust me i did when i got myself off at home, but right now, just look-" you bring your hand up from between your legs, making an obscene display of licking your fingers and sucking on them, making sure she could see the arousal that coated your fingers.

sana's jaw tightens at the sight, she shuffles a little in her seat, unconsciously moving closer towards you.

"you don't have to worry about being unprofessional sana. i promise i want this just as much as you do right now." you slide your hand back down yourself, finding your clit easily after the practice you've gotten over the last fortnight, and rubbing circles around it.

"bold of you to assume i want this. this is my job after all." you leak at the register in her voice, it's something you've only been able to imagine in your fantasies.

"you don't want me?" you pout a little, turning onto your side so your entire body is facing her, your arm pushing your breasts together while a finger tugs gently on a nipple, your other hand still rubbing fast little circles into your clit.

sana chuckles darkly, her eyes closing, she seems to be trying to force herself to keep still.

"because just to be clear... i've thought about how you touched me every single time i came these past two weeks." your breath hitches when you recall the way you'd vigorously rub one out to her, sometimes multiple times a day ever since you started masturbating again. "i- oh fuck- no one has gotten me that turned on in such a short amount of time ever- nng- and i'd think about the way you felt inside me, and how careful and gentle you were- fuck- and then i'd think about how rough you could get as well- oh- and how i'd try and be so good for you- can you- can you pass me the dildo? i think i can slide the smallest one in now-"

she gets up from her seat wordlessly, exuding a dark aura that makes you clench your thighs in anticipation. she moves towards your bag, digging for the package and pulling it out, taking the smallest dildo and then moving back towards you. her pupils are blown, hungrily drinking you in, your fingers speed up just a little at the attention.

you reach out a hand mid-moan, asking for her to pass you the toy.

but she clicks her tongue, pushing your hand away gently and lubing up the toy herself.

you gulp, turning so you're laid flat on your back again, spreading your legs so she can see just how wet you were.

her eyes meet yours briefly, and you adore the way she checks in and makes sure you're okay with this, and you nod, giving her permission before she's sliding the dildo into you.

"oh shit-"

sana hums, pushing the little gold dildo in further, transfixed on the way your fingers move just a little rougher around your clit with every centimetre.

when she's completely inside you moan, clenching around the dildo, it was a comfortable size inside you.

"any pain?" her voice is rough, laced with barely concealed lust.

you whine, "n-no- you can move."

she starts pulling out, and it is almost painful the threat of being empty leaving you desperate, grinding down to try and keep her inside you, but she pushes back in, just a second faster this time and you moan unabashedly.

"f-fuck-" she starts up a rhythm, pulling out of you, then pushing back in, each time a second faster than the last.

you rub your clit, faster, harder, pulling on your nipple, switching to the other one to make sure both were attended to, you've never been built up this quickly. even when you were masturbating you had taken her advice and teased yourself for at least an hour before you got anywhere close to cumming.

you crave her, eyes lidded watching the way the veins in her arms become a little more visible when she thrusts in a little harder. you can hear the examination table shaking under you, you can't keep still at all, trying to meet her on each thrust, the tools and materials clattering about loudly. the possibility that someone could hear you outside flies across your mind but you can barely give it a second thought, in fact, it turns you on even more knowing that you were getting fucked by the most gorgeous doctor that you've been obsessed with the last fortnight, and on the other side of the door everyone was just going about their regular days, having no idea the heights of pleasure she was bringing you to.

"o-oh s-sana oh my god- holy fuck-"

"hmm? good?"

"yes yes so good- oh my god you feel so good inside me i'm gonna- oh fuck-"

"do you mind if i..."

you look down at her, vision a little blurry but you can tell she's asking to do something, "yes yes oh god- whatever- you can do whatever you want to me- oh fuck-"

you feel a soft hand come to rest on your stomach, sliding down to just a little below your belly button, and then it presses down just gently, "oh fuck!" your hips jolt upwards, pleasure running up your spine.

sana stops the pressure but keeps her hand on your lower stomach, "was that okay?"

"god yes- oh sana you're gonna make me cum please-"

so she presses down again, a little harder this time, and you feel the coil in you snap, white enroaching your vision, your thighs shaking, head tilted back, a high-pitched gasp leaving your mouth, feeling completely breathless.

sana waits for you to come down patiently, helping you through your orgasm, continuing her thrusts into your cunt but slower and much gentler.

eventually, you feel your back and hips meet the surface of the examination table under you again, breathing heavily and opening your eyes slowly.

sana's moved next to you, brushing strands of hair out of your face, you preen into her touch. but the next thing she does has you clenching tightly around the dildo that's still inside you. she brings her fingers to her mouth, sucking them in and making a show of wrapping her tongue around them. "exquisite."

you blush, clenching your thighs together at the sight.

she gives you a slow once-over again, before exhaling shakily and turning away, moving to the sink to clean up a little. you struggle a little to sit up, still recovering from your mind-shaking orgasm, and you're about to pull the dildo out of you when she speaks up again, still with her back turned to you.

"keep it inside you. that'll be your homework task for the next fortnight until our next session." she turns around, seeming to have collected herself a little better, her eyes fixed only on your face, purposely avoiding the rest of your body.

you sluggishly start to clean yourself up, wincing a little each time you accidentally move the dildo inside you.

"so you are able to come from penetration, you don't have to worry about that. and it's normal that you need some clitoral or other stimulation to be able to orgasm, often just penetration isn't enough. for the next fortnight i want you to continue masturbating, but i want you to practice leaving a dildo inside yourself afterwards, so your vaginal muscles get used to the feeling of something being inside. you can slowly work your way up the sizes, just don't push yourself and make sure you stop if it starts becoming too painful."

you nod, trying to bring your breathing back to a normal pace while you slip your clothes back on.

"alright. were there any other concerns you wanted to talk about?"

you shake your head, coming to a stand.

"okay. you can make the next appointment with the receptionist out front. i'll see you in 2 weeks y/n."

you nod, again, walking out the door when she opens it for you, but turning back before she can close it catching her a little by surprise, "thank you sana. i look forward to seeing you again soon." your voice is still a little scratchy but sana blushes, pursing her lips and nodding, closing the door after you.

you sigh a little dreamily, feeling more blissed out than you've been in a long time.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

this continues between the two of you for a few months.

you loved teasing sana and getting her out of her professional state. once you had worn lingerie under your coat to see her. you laugh remembering the way her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as soon as you took off your coat when you were in the privacy of her office. you'd let her fuck you however she wanted, and then you'd use each new experience to get you off during the fortnight that she'd give you new exercises, all increasing in intensity to help build you up to being able to take an average sized penis.

your favourite one to think about was that week that ben started complaining about how you'd been seeing sana for so long that surely you'd be able to take him by now. he insisted on coming to your next appointment but he was forced to sit outside and wait for you. little did he know you were on the other side of the door, a hand clamped over your mouth, the other holding you up against the door with your breasts pressed against it while sana railed into you from behind. of course she kept harnesses in her office. she had said they were mainly there for educational purposes, to show people how to put one on properly so it was safe and wasn't hurting anyone, it was just an added benefit that she also used them to pound into you with increasing dildo sizes each fortnight.

you lean onto your elbows while you watch her wash off the dildo she had just used on you. it was the biggest one yet and you're still fluttering a little remembering the way it filled you up while you rode her.

"what?" she turns around, drying off the dildo and slipping it back into your bag, pulling her shirt back on.

"just think you're nice to look at."

she rolls her eyes playfully, "shut up y/n."

you wiggle your eyebrows, "make me."

she glances at you, narrowing her eyes a little but making no effort to move closer, "as if you could go another round. you came so hard just then."

you giggle and sigh in satisfaction, resting your cheek on a hand, "i did. you're so good at what you do."

sana hums, finishing getting dressed and looking semi-presentable, settling back into her seat, but her expression changes a little while she studies you.

"what's up?"

"... have you tried having sex again with your boyfriend?"

"i told you i haven't."

she hums again, mind drifting elsewhere and you shrug, sitting up and starting to clean yourself up. "you can try now y'know? you were able to take that dildo and that's pretty much the average size of a penis already. unless he's bigger than that...?"

you scoff, shuffling into your pants, "no. he's actually smaller than the one you just used on me."

"then you should try having sex again."

you pull your shirt over your head, thinking over what she's saying. instead of sitting down in your own seat you climb into her lap, her arms wrapping around you automatically, hands gripping your waist while you make yourself comfortable. "doesn't that mean i won't be able to see you anymore?"

sana chuckles a little emptily, "i'm your sex therapist y/n. you knew this was going to end eventually."

"yeah but you don't fuck your other clients do you?"

sana laughs then, you feast in the sound. "no, no i don't."

"good. i was actually thinking..."

"hm?" she brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing slightly.

"would you... i don't know... like... i think about you when i get off yeah but i also think about you like... all the time..."

"mhm."

"so i was wondering if... i don't know if you felt the same if you wanted to like hang out outside of here? and like i don't mean to have sex i mean like go on a date maybe...?" you're shy, bringing this question up, blushing and avoiding her eyes.

"you have a boyfriend y/n." she deadpans.

"well yeah but i was thinking of breaking up with him anyway. now that you're bringing up having sex with him again i don't want that, and i don't want to stop seeing you. i guess just- just the threat that this all might be over soon- well i don't want it to be over. i like you sana." you say a little more firmly this time, meeting her eyes with decisiveness.

sana smiles then, all eyes, leaning in to peck you gently, "come back in a fortnight and we'll see. if you're no longer with him then... maaaybe i'll let you take me out."

your eyes brighten at her response, jumping out of her lap with excitement, "really?! oh my god i'll call him right now and do it-" you're reaching for your phone in your bag when she laughs, pulling you back into her

"don't do it over the phone silly. not even he deserves that."

you pout a little but it’s quickly wiped away when sana kisses you, lips slotting perfectly against yours with practiced ease. you sigh into her, addicted to the feeling, the taste, the smell of her. it was probably the easiest decision of your life, choosing your sex therapist over your boyfriend.

[ghoulishhx]

✦ babygirl, i love you

part 1 - please don't go ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ part 2 - acceptance

aaaa part 3!! finally omg im sorry it took me too long. one more part will be coming after this and hint hint, it WILL be smutty. but thank you for all the love on the previous chapters.

My Masterlist!

──── ୨୧ ────

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: hurt/comfort to a T, reader is going through it in the beginning, soft frankie, fluff fluff fluff

Tags: @dungeons-bat mwah

Wordcount: 1.7k

──── ୨୧ ────

You couldn’t sleep for the life of you that night, Frank’s apology running rampant through your head. It was mere hours ago he was in your home, asking for your forgiveness, but you chose to just push him away. It was easier that way, you believed. He had made it pretty clear he wasn’t ready for more than a hookup with you and you just had to get over that. Tossing and turning, replaying the entire conversation in your mind once more, one particular thing stuck out, 

“Baby girl, I lo-”

But you cut him off before he could finish his sentence. What was he going to say? What would’ve happened if you didn’t let your emotions control you in that moment? The result must’ve been better than this, crying into one of his shirts he left over at your house a while back, his faint musk fading away. It could’ve been different, and you can’t help but blame yourself. Despite everything, it was your fault in your mind. You don’t know when, but you fell asleep, tears soaking into the material bunched up under your face, drifting off into slumber with his scent filling your nose. 

Waking up the next morning, you felt like you were hungover. Your head pounding, sinuses stuffy. Your heart dropped at the realisation that what happened last night wasn’t a nightmare. Nevertheless, you still crawled out of bed, got dressed and began your day. Walking around your apartment like a zombie, you were on autopilot. “Baby girl, I lo-” repeated in your head all day, like a metronome. A constant reminder of what could’ve been. You could fill in the blanks, you knew that word could only end in one way. It’s too late now, you pushed him away. 

You don’t know how, but you made it through the day. Back at home, lying in your bed once again with his shirt. The scent of him still clinging to the fabric. You thought if you could just keep it there, he was still with you. Just hold onto the shirt, hold onto him, his smell, and you weren’t alone, and everything was just a nightmare.

Weeks passed in a flash, the days repeated themselves. You wake up, go to work, get in bed with his shirt, breathe in his smell and it would drift you off to sleep. One night, you began your routine, cosying up with the shirt and that’s when you realised.

It had gone, he had gone.

“No.. no.. please..” you scramble with the fabric, twisting it and maneuvering it in hopes you’ll catch another glimpse of him. But it was no use, 

You were alone.

In your anger you toss the garment across the room and sit up cross legged, head in hands. You had never felt more pathetic, your entire existence lied solely on his damn shirt, the last thing of his you could call yours. But just like he did, the scent of him left.

There was no use even trying to sleep now, it was impossible. You decide to do what you used to do, before him. When you couldn’t sleep, you’d put on your robe and climb your fire escape to the roof and sit up there and watch the stars. So that’s what you did, mug in hand you climb to your roof. You hadn’t been up there since you started and stopped seeing Frank, there was no need for it anymore. Those sleepless nights were replaced by him holding you, or with you holding onto any remnant of him.

The cool air of the night hits your face, flushing your cheeks instantly. You sigh as you sit in your usual spot, you can’t fight the tears anymore. They fall like rain, dripping all over your lap as you weep, mourning what could have been. The last time you were up here was the first time the two of you had met, his battered self basking in the moonlight, injured and alone, just like you were. You found solace in his company that night and allowed yourself to fall in love. 

“Damn you, Frank Castle.” you softly whisper, wiping your tears with the back of your hand as you stare up at the stars. 

You feel a warm hand on your shoulder, the touch sickeningly recognisable. You turn your head to the side in a flash, heart beating out of your chest. You believe you’re hallucinating, believing you somehow conjured him out of thin air after speaking his name. But no, he was real, his touch was real.

You stare at one another for a few moments, studying his face. He allowed his facial hair to grow out, his hair was considerably longer than before. His eyes were dark, bags under them heavy. But it was him, it was the man who broke your heart.

“Hi sweetheart.” he whispers, breaking the silence, rubbing his thumb along your collarbone.

“Frank.. Wha- what are you doing here?” you mumble, your mind still hazy from seeing him for the first time after months, blinking away the tears in your eyes as you sniffle.

“I.. I just wanted to check if you were okay.. Shit I’ve been comin’ up here every night, hopin’ to see ya.. Make sure you’re alright..” your jaw drops at his admission, after all this time he’d been sat up on the roof like clockwork. 

“I didn’ wanna startle ya or nothin’, you told me ya didn’t want me around anymore.. But I just couldn’t bring m’self to stay away.” he looks away, the words flowing out of him before he could even stop himself.

You’re genuinely stunned, not expecting him to be back here, with you. Why was he here? What did he want? Your mind races trying to grasp onto the situation, not once did you see this moment as a possibility amongst all of your thoughts, fully convincing yourself it was over between the two of you and you’d have to spend the rest of your life wondering what could’ve been.

“Frank, what were you going to say the last time we spoke, before I cut you off?” you blurt out, eyes quizzically darting around his face, the question that had been on repeat in your mind all this time was about to be answered, hoping it would give you the closure to move on. 

“Huh?” he raises his gaze back to yours, eyebrows following suit. The question surprises him, half expecting you to throw punches and tell him to fuck off. 

“You said babygirl I lo- and then I cut you off. Please. I need to know what you were going to say.” you’re whispering now, tears welling once more and your heart rapidly beating, you worry the muscle will break through your skin at the sheer pace.

He flexes his jaw, looking at your lips and then back at your eyes. He takes his hand from your shoulder and places it tentatively on your cheek, resuming the circles he was rubbing on your collarbone on your cheek. He exhales deeply, preparing himself for what comes next.

“Babygirl, I love you. That’s what I was gonna sa-”

You interrupt his words with a kiss, a bruising desperate kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck as you continue to cry. You cry and cry, but you don’t know the reasoning anymore. Relief? Anger? It doesn’t matter. Your lips were on his once more, and it felt right. Your whole body shudders, the darkness was over. The world around you disappeared, nothing existed anymore but you and Frank in this moment.

You pull away, wrapping your fingers in the collar of his jacket.

“Do you mean it, Frankie? Really? You love me?”

He chuckles, wiping the tears from your eyes, placing kisses across your face while he speaks.

“I do sweet girl, with every fibre of m’ being.” he kisses your forehead “I love ya.” then another on your cheek. “I love ya so fuckin’ much.” and then the opposite cheek. “And ‘m sorry. So fuckin’ sorry” he rests his forehead on yours, hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. “‘M not goin’ anywhere ever again, ya hear me?”

You hiccup another choked sob, nodding your head frantically. 

“Shh doll, no reason to cry nomore. I’m here, ‘ve got ya.” he kisses you once more, passionately exploring your mouth with his tongue as he tangles his fingers in your hair with one hand and gripping your waist with the other. You rub your hands along his shoulders, taking in the feeling of him again after so long. You hum into the kiss as you feel him smirk against your mouth. 

“I’m sorry Frankie, I shouldn't have left you up here all those nights. Should’ve just let you speak last time, instead of kicking you out.” you sigh in between kisses, addicted to his taste, the feeling of him on your lips once more.

“You’ve got no reason to be sorry doll, ‘m here now. That’s all over, ya here me?” he says, pulling away briefly. His heart warms at the sight before him, you smiling. He had gone too long without seeing that damn smile.

“Okay.” you whisper, wiping your tears away once more. “I’ve missed you Frankie.”

“I’ve missed ya more, my sweet girl. Let’s get you inside, fuckin’ freezin’ up here.” he kisses your cheek, pulling you to your feet, guiding you to your apartment. You can’t help but smile to yourself, he came back. He’s yours.

“I love you Frank.” you grab his hand, and he spins back around to you.

“I love you too sweetheart.” fuck did it sound good coming from his lips. “Now c’mon, lemme make up for all the lost time without each other.” he winks, tapping your ass, sending you in front of him. You giggle and for the first time in what felt like forever, you were fully at ease.

──── ୨୧ ────

a/n: i have no self control and i had to stop punishing myself and just make them make the fuck UP. like i said tho its gonna get freaky in the next part so enjoy xo

my inbox is open!

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook is one of your greatest fears and you’re his achilles’ heel.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, angst / word count: 4.1k

content/warnings: i love you i want us both to eat well T_T sigh. oc has abandonment issues pls protect at all costs + oc is worried bc jk is working so hard :( + a worm (???) cameo. ily protective and hopeless romantic iw!jk <3 the ending 🥲💔 this drabble literally goes 📈📉

> in which masterlist!

note: *insert my melody mugshot scene* me if planting puzzle pieces in my drabbles + making oc cry (IM SORRY) were a crime. this was sm fun writing <3 i cried and laughed they’re so precious </3

—

“jungkook, baby?”

your silky voice fills the quiet apartment as you pad across the floor. you’re carrying your heeled mary janes by its straps, leaving you only in your white socks.

“babe?”

you frown as the seconds pass and you receive no response from your lover. there’s no music playing, no rustling somewhere in the kitchen or the living room. the lights are dim like they usually are, but the vivid colors are absent.

him? asleep at 9pm? jeon jungkook? it can’t be, but you’d be delighted to finally see him resting early if it was real.

and so, spurred by that tiny glimmer of hope, you carefully crack the bedroom door open, as if you’re fifteen again and you just came back from sneaking out of the house.

but you’re grown now; you live in a building with complete strangers for neighbors. you just got home from work, and you’re no longer used to sleeping alone because you share the bed with another person.

you find it empty. devoid of any creases, sign of life. as neat as a hotel room’s make believe that no one lived there until two hours prior.

the disappointment weighs down on your shoulders, causing them to drop.

he didn’t tell you he was going somewhere else after practice, you think to yourself as your lips permanently shape into a pout. what happened to going out with you for dinner?

agreeing, your empty stomach grumbles angrily.

maybe he got caught up at work. maybe he’s on his way home. maybe he’s on his way to the restaurant and he’s about to text you to come over. maybe he forgot about your plans and he’s having dinner with somebody else.

whatever the reason is, you’re too lazy and tired to whip up something edible on your own. with or without him, you’re going out and you’re stuffing your mouth full with rice and meat. after all, autumn is here, your dear old friend.

in search for a coat that will accompany you in your late-night stroll, you enter the walk-in closet and flip on the lightswitch.

you can count them with just your fingers— the amount of times you’ve felt this type of fear. absent eyes, melting spine, chills running to the top of your head down to your fingertips, mind racing with an overload of thoughts (it appears as a blank page, the same way that white is the presence of all colors of visible light). this fear… you associate it with impulsive mistakes, fire, police and ambulance sirens, and… empty closets.

jungkook’s side of the closet is empty.

clothes. shoes. bucket hats. beanies. belts. everything. gone.

but the floor is scattered with random pieces of clothing that look like they accidentally fell while someone was in a rush to pack them all in a bag. so in a rush that they didn’t even bother to pick them up.

your weak knees almost give way, but you force yourself to stumble backwards until your back hits the doorframe— you refuse to let yourself look like you’ve been carelessly discarded too.

not again. not again. not this goddamn vicious curse you thought you’ve already broken out of. not. again.

you blink away the tears threatening to spill as you scramble to open the zipper of your bag, but they spill anyway when your shoes clatter to the floor. you flinch at the thunderous sound, clutching your phone tightly against your chest. you keep your eyes closed throughout the defeaning silence that comes after.

the empty space mocks you. it knows your intricate design was not meant to live in an empty home.

you guess nothing much has changed. you’re still afraid of jungkook and his power to take away the sun, just as he did before, and you deeply despise being afraid. you don’t like it when the walls are closing in on you, poisoning your mind into believing that you’re small when the heart inside your chest burns with a fire brighter than that of the damn sun.

anyone would be foolish to leave you; it’s only jungkook who could have you mourning the death of the garden you’ve given the past five years of your life to.

—

jungkook returns to the apartment half an hour later. despite the long, grueling hours of dance practice he nearly didn’t survive, the excitement vibrating through his body is manifested through the lightness of his movements. he’s finally seeing his lover for the first time today… awake.

when he brought his natural body warmth along with him to the bathroom this morning, you sunk yourself further into mattress, beneath the thick blankets and against the soft pillows. by the time he had to give you your obligatory goodbye kiss before he leaves for work (or else you’d sulk about it for the rest of the week), half of your face has been hidden from sight. he was only able to press a loving kiss on your forehead, and then your eyelids that were fluttering as you dreamt.

night time comes and he is still deprived of the sight of your beautiful face? he somberly wonders as he finds you slumped over the dining table; he swears that there is a dark rain cloud hovering above you. your arms are thrown over the hardwood as they serve as a makeshift pillow for your vessel— his little firefly curiously bleak.

“baby? are you sick?” he asks, voice dripping with concern as he tenderly rubs your back.

the legs of the chair screeches against the tiled floor, neglectedly pushed behind.

“kook?” you manage to choke out, frantically sitting up once your muddled brain registered the familiarity of his touch on your bare skin.

his heart drops to his stomach as your tear-stained face comes into view. this isn’t how he envisioned your greeting; it usually came in the form of a bright light not harsh as the sunlight, a softness that begs to be held.

“are you crying?!”

your reply only comes out as a pitiful whimper. he stumbles a step backwards when you unceremoniously jump into his embrace, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. he gets a whiff of your sweet perfume, and then it becomes the air that he breathes, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it.

“baby!”

he squeezes your waist taut against his body, affectionately nosing at your cheek before giving you a kiss. “did something happen? tell me- tell me.”

“jungkook,” your voice cracks as you utter his name, sounding almost like a plea, and then an endless string of heartbreaking sobs comes out muffled against his shirt. “where have you been?”

this sends him into a state of panic. seeing you in pain— it’s his biggest weakness. after all, you are his achilles’ heel.

“why? why, why, why?” you’re weak and pliant as he pulls your arms down, collapsing against his chest when he envelopes you in his embrace. he cradles your head in his palm, soothing you with gentle pats and shushes. “shh, shhh- it’s okay, i’m here now. everything’s okay, you hear me?”

his efforts prove to be fruitless, because you only seem to cry harder as he slowly rocks your bodies back and forth.

you shake your head, hands attempting to hold on to the back of his shirt to regain sensation in your limbs, but they miserably fail and fall on the sides of his hips.

“talk to me… please, mhmm?“ he hums quietly, pressing his soft lips to your temple. “tell me what’s wrong and your boyfriend will take care of it.”

from your sniffles to your hiccups, you remain unable to form any coherent response, and it leads his imagination to construct the worst possible scenarios. he feels his stomach turn with uneasiness, jaw clenching as he carefully pulls away to meet you eye-to-eye.

“did someone touch you? hurt you?” he spits out with urgency, and the unparalleled care he displays puts you in a daze, simply dumbfounded as he strokes your face. “huh, baby? just tell me and i’ll take care of the rest.”

now that you’re being reminded that jungkook could quite literally kill a person with his bare hands if they ever inflict harm on you, the fog is clearing up and you feel so incredibly… stupid.

but that’s more the reason why it’s difficult not to be sensitive when it comes to him; his absence proves to be lethal.

“shit, you’re scaring me.” he breathes out shakily as he taps your cheek lightly to bring you back to him, the distant look in your eyes triggering the emergency alarms in his head.

he unconsciously licks his lips and he tastes your tears; he doesn’t want anybody else to ever come this close.

“okay, okay- let’s put that aside for now. what do you need? should we go to bed and rest instead?”

“i thought you left,” you whisper as you hang your head in shame.

he blinks at you in confusion. “to where? my flight isn’t until next week, baby.”

fantastic! now you sound like the most dramatic, clingiest bitch to ever grace the planet. you bury your face in your hands to hide the battle zone between your heart and mind, but your boyfriend seizes your wrists because he can’t bear another second of it.

“is-is that why you’re upset…?” he asks with not a trace of malice or ridicule. he is only filled with guilt as it dawns on him then— how you’ve only gotten used to always having him around four years into your relationship, when he was taking a break from work.

the changes in his life are also changes in yours, but they still affect you in many different ways.

“then just come with me. i’ll make it work. maybe we can extend for a bit, spend an entire day by ourselves- there’s a lot of museu-”

“i thought you left,” you repeat yourself, exposed and vulnerable, vision swallowed by the darkness because you can’t make yourself look at him. “your clothes… they’re gone, and i was calling but you… you weren’t answering my calls so i thought…”

“my clothes?” he exclaims, eyes going wide as he realizes that they’ve accidentally slipped from his mind. “ahh, i thought about cleaning the closet while waiting for you so i moved everything to the other room!”

you open your mouth to speak, but much to your chagrin, no words come out. you purse your lips as your chin wobbles— the new wave of tears in your eyes mimic shiny crystals.

“____!”

and at the stern mention of your name, you know that you’re about to receive a (loving) scolding from your boyfriend. your lips curve into a frown before a sob inevitably escapes past them.

“why would you think that? why would i leave you? that doesn’t make sense at all, does it…?”

you shake your head, hugging him so tight, possibly tighter than you’ve ever done before. between your bodies, his heart is being unbearably wrung.

“i’m sorry, baby. seeing you cry like this breaks my heart…” he closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, resting his cheek on the side of your head. “but why would that be the first thing you think of…? i must be doing something wrong, right? have i been too busy with work? am i neglecting you?”

you’re breathless, a little dizzy— bloodshot eyes meeting his that are now gleaming with sadness. “no, it’s not like that! i just panicked, i couldn’t think straight.”

“are you sure?”

he looks at you skeptically, scanning your face.

“baby-” his voice breaks, then he pauses with his gaze still trained on you. “okay, i’m sorry. i… should’ve thought about what cleaning the closet would look like.”

“i was just being stupid.” you give him a small smile, rubbing your eyes to chase away the burning sensation. “sorry for scaring you.”

“stop, you’ll hurt yourself.” he tuts, pushing your wrists aside to cup your face in his hands, much gentler in comparison to your own self. his thumbs draw shapes on your soft skin, and then out of the blue, he curiously squeezes one of the space buns on top of your head. “wow, this is so pretty?”

“huh…? oh, thanks.” you mumble, still feeling out of it.

“this, too.” the white silk ribbon wrapped prettily around your neck, he means, which he hooks a finger on to tug lightly. it matches the lace straps on your shoulders that falls across the underbust of your dress, tied together to form a ribbon in the middle of it. that makes two, so clasically you.

and while it may be partly true that he’s trying to lighten the atmosphere, he just can’t defy the urge to express his admiration for you, even in a situation like this. he’s perpetually love-drunk.

“thank you.” you nod, shyly looking away to sniffle. “but you’re the reason why my makeup is ruined… need to wash it off before we go.”

“you’re beautiful either way, baby.”

“i know.” you scoff. “would you date me for five years if i wasn’t?”

he releases a throaty chuckle, capturing your lips in his with a smile of endearment that he fails to subdue.

“you’re so fucking cute. i love you-” he says with merely an inch of distance between you.

he grunts in melodramatic anguish, overcome by the insensity of his affections overflowing past the brim of his very being, leaning so close that the edge of the table digs into your lower back, surely to leave a temporary mark.

and he carries on to kiss you so many times that you lose count; you can only melt as you collect them in that bottomless pocket located somewhere in your soul, where all the love you’ve received across lifetimes is recorded to prove i was once here.

“i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you. i’m never leaving. you’re stuck with me and bam forever.”

if the time comes that the two of you break up, who would bam come home to? jungkook stubbornly refuses to have that conversation.

however, you still can’t let go of something, and you pout as you shove him lightly. unsurprisingly, his strong build doesn’t budge at all.

“but why didn’t you answer my calls?” at last, you gain enough energy to complain, but your face grows hot as the urge to cry returns. “i mean, what else was i supposed to think?!”

jungkook is struck by yet another lightning.

may the heavens have mercy, he’s been making you angry more than usual lately.

“shit, i forgot. i turned off my phone.” he mutters under his breath, feeling extremely regretful that he was not reachable when you needed him most to be. “i wanted to focus only on you tonight. what do they call it again…? leaving work at work?”

he winces guiltily.

“i’m sorry. maybe it wasn’t a smart idea.”

“no, i like that.” you almost interrupt him from talking because of how fast you are to brush off his apology.

he makes a mental note of it— the way you’re gripping at his shirt in small fists. you’re tense and overwhelmed; you need him to stay close.

“leave work at work. focus on me, and let me be your rest.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook bites back his tears then. after all this time, he still gets mesmerized by the tenderness that naturally governs your every word and action; he thinks that he needs you more than you need him.

—

“just eat, baby. i’ll cook the meat for us.” jungkook coos at you as he cuts more meat into bite-sized pieces using a pair of kitchen shears.

“okay, then i’ll make sure that you eat.” you grin excitedly, dragging your chair closer to his.

you set down the tongs, grabbing your chopsticks to pick up a cooked piece of pork belly from the grill. you don’t forget to blow on it, mindful of burning his tongue.

of course, you don’t want to hurt him, but it would be especially painful for him as a singer.

“ahhh-” still busy with cooking, jungkook opens wide at your cue, catching the meat in between his teeth.

“rice,” he demands as he chews.

you scoop up rice from your bowl, and he devours it happily as he continues to flip the strips of pork belly lined up across the grill.

“mmhmm, it’s so delicious!” he dramatically says out loud. his eyebrows are knitted together and his legs are bouncing under the table, tell-tale signs of him enjoying the food.

witnessing this kind of reaction, any chef would be happy to slave away in the kitchen to serve him a meal. you recognize it in the smile of the owner after jungkook ordered more side dishes, and the way he dashed through the door to reduce the waiting time.

“yah, feed yourself, too!” jungkook chides you after you feed him meat three times in a row, but with an open palm that catches the juice that drips from the kimchi, you still tap your chopsticks against his lips. he spares it a glance before catching it using his tongue.

“i am!” you then rush to wrap a piece of pork belly in lettuce, dipping it into ssamjang before stuffing it into your mouth.

“good job, baby.” he grins in satisfaction, rubbing your back as praise. this makes you preen. “make sure to eat lots, got it?”

but then you’re back to spoiling him rotten, this time with an egg roll. so far, he has only touched his own chopsticks twice.

“i just told you to eat first!”

you glare at him, pouting. “but you worked so hard practicing today and you haven’t even eaten properly yet.”

he is too busy with work, and it’s not news that you’ve been worried sick about his health. it’s difficult to watch him work himself to the bone, but no one truly has the power to stop jungkook from doing what he wants, sometimes not even himself. and you find it impossible to fault him for it when you know that everything he does is done out of love. from the vigorous vocal and dance lessons, and to the deep cleaning of the apartment because his baby has been developing an allergy to dust.

“you need to make it up to your body. here, please?”

he loves being loved, jungkook thinks to himself as he eats the egg roll whole.

—

you were already prepared to go home after dinner, but your night owl for a boyfriend insisted on going on a walk at the park because he wanted to, and you quote, ‘see you awake for a little while longer,’ or whatever the hell he meant by that.

with his tattooed arm protectively swung over your shoulder, you’re engulfed in a wave of nostalgia. for the first two years of your relationship, before you started living together, you only met with each other at night, save for the very rare day-offs that he got. the only places that are still open after midnight are nightclubs, fastfood chains, convenience stores… and well, parks.

and he would always hold you close like this to make you feel safe, and the rest of you melts away while the side of your ribcage that he is pressed against remains to shelter your heart. on the contrary, you also remember how your bodies used to be so tense. you wanted to sacrifice more sleep and to walk to the other side of the park, of the street, to that other convenience store five blocks away because this one didn’t have the flavor of ice cream you wanted, anything… just… anything so you could be with each other ten minutes more.

and it was cold. it was always cold.

“what do you mean ‘it exploded’?”

“it seriously exploded! it was on fire! that’s why i went out to buy a new extension cord!”

“jungkook, it’s because you plug in too many things at once!” you cry out in frustration, your steps becoming heavy stomps. “i told you to stop doing that!”

“what do you mean? if it has six slots, doesn’t that mean six devices is the maximum?” he continues to stubbornly defend himself, and you can only hang your head in defeat. “otherwise, it’s a scam!”

“it is a scam! see…? they made you buy a ne-”

your sentence is cut short as your tongue gets paralyzed.

a dark and striped, long figure approaching ahead, slithering its across the grass.

your mind immediately registers it as the animal you fear most.

oh, no. no, no, no, no, no.

“jungkook,” you utter his name with a tremble.

the same fear you experienced only two hours ago holds you hostage once more, add all the hair in your body standing up and you’re as frightened as a cat.

“what’s wrong? yah! what are you doing?! baby, ba- fuck!” he sputters out as you forcefully pull him back along with you, displaying a type of strength and agility he doesn’t normally see.

the two of you continue to stumble backwards as you struggle to maintain balance, and somehow jungkook manages to switch your positions so that you’re the one who lands on top him instead of the other way around when you eventually end up as a heap on the soft earth.

he begins to feel his throat closing up at the sight of pure, genuine fear in your eyes.

“jungkook, snake- it’s small bu-”

you interrupt your own sentence with a high-pitched squeal, garnering looks from strangers moving and unmoving. in the blink of an eye, your boyfriend has swept you off your feet as if you’re light as a feather, driven by the instinct to protect the love of his life.

you cover your mouth in shock, your other arm coming up around his neck to keep yourself from falling.

you think you may have fallen for jungkook all over again.

“are you spiderman?”

he was too busy searching for the subject of your fear under dim lights, and so he looks at you in bewilderment to ask, “what was that?”

you shake your head with your wide eyes shining with faux innocence. you squeak. “nothing.”

he releases a sigh, followed by a chuckle of obvious relief and amusement as he squeezes your body closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. “aigoo, my ____! why are you so scared today? what am i going to do with you…? it’s just a worm.”

“are you sure? i swear i saw it raise its head!“

“i’m sure,” he lulls you. “i think worms can do that, too?”

your face twists in an expression of mixed bewilderment and distrust.

“that i’m not sure about, but it’s really just a worm! would i still be standing here if it wasn’t?” he clicks his tongue sharply. “we need to get your eyes rechecked.”

you roll your eyes with a huff. you’ve have had enough of his teasing before it even starts.

“uh?! i’m serious over here!”

this is new— you mean bickering with jungkook in a public place isn’t, but being carried by him like a bride while it happens definitely is.

“fine, i’ll go this weekend. happy?” you fake an obedient smile. “you can put me down now.”

he blinks, and then he adjusts the way he’s holding you to ensure that your dress won’t show what’s for his eyes only— for a split second, you were flying.

“i’ll go with you,”

“okay. now put me down.“ you tap his shoulder repeatedly to prompt him to heed your words. “babe, this is embarrassing!”

“nope,” he ignores your protest with nonchalance as he resumes to walk the path you’re on, evidently enjoying the attention he’s stealing and the way you’re curling yourself smaller to hide.

“oh my god! weren’t you just complaining about your body hurting?!”

“you were scared of me leaving,” he smiles, glancing down at you. “so now i’m gluing you to myself.”

that made you quiet for a while. inside your tote, the container of kimchi, wrapped in a plastic bag, rattles with his every stride. you noticed that jungkook loved it so much, so you ordered it to go when he went to the bathroom before you were to leave the restaurant.

“you know, we used to just hold hands,” you mumble with a childish pout. “like normal people?”

“this is very normal,” he argues.

the scenery becomes more familiar as he takes the long way home.

“some would even say romantic.”

a wave of nostalgia hits, and you visibly shiver.

you don’t know if he would remember, but he has said the same exact words once before.

you scrunch your nose, supposedly to give him a look of disgust, but a giddy smile betrays you. you are five years younger again, and the night ends with the moon bidding you an adieu.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[ddarker-dreams]

please, please, PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU PLEASE WRITE SOMETHING FOR GOJO THE GOJO DROUGHT(esp writing) IS KILLING ME

warning for explicit not sfw, reader is fem, and yan gojo being questionable as ever.

"You've really been hurting my feelings, y'know."

Gojo whispers these words beside your ear, the lighthearted lilt masking the weight they carry. You squirm, attempting to wriggle away, but he's unrelenting, pinning your wrists above your head and keeping them there.

It's his eyes that startle you the most. He's made no effort to conceal the mania glossing over them, bright blues coruscating like sheets of ice. They pick you apart at a molecular level, feeding him an endless stream of information.

"Ignoring my calls..."

His finger ghosts over the mad pulse in your throat.

"My texts..."

He kisses you there while his hands explore lower—

"How's a man s'posed to take that?"

—And lower.

"Aren't you being a little too cold with your husband?"

Gojo plays with the hem of your skirt, bunching the fabric up along your thighs. You bite your lower lip to suppress the noises dying to leave your lips. He smiles, whistling lowly when his fingers feel the wet patch in your panties. Your cheeks burn hot and you avert your gaze. Chuckling, he steals your breath by tracing lazy patterns against the outline of your pussy.

"Fuck, you're way too cute," Gojo smothers your neck in obscenely loud, wet kisses. "Acting all pouty when we both know you missed me terribly. Poor thing."

"You're so full of yourself," you huff, unable to come up with anything better.

"And you'll be full of me soon enough."

You make a face at him. "That's really lame."

He squeezes your thighs not so gently and tuts. "It's still good enough to get you going. Seriously, you're fuckin' soaked. I should manhandle you more often."

Finally, he pushes your panties aside, rubbing circles against your clit. You try ignoring his wolfish grin when you part your thighs for him. His breath is hot and ragged against your neck, betraying his excitement. He guides your hand past his waistband, groaning shamelessly when you grasp the twitching outline of his cock through his briefs.

"Take it out, baby," he coos. "C'mon. You know how I like it. That's right, good girl."

You stroke him slowly, somewhat amazed by the sheer amount of precum coating his length. In the meantime, he pulls your skirt and panties down, the unexpected roughness almost making you lose your balance. He keeps you steady by lifting you up. You yelp, scrambling for purchase, which you find by encircling his waist with your legs.

"Satoru," you hiss. "If you think I'm gonna just forget and pretend like— mm...!"

"Sorry, what was that?" He questions, all the while rubbing the head of his cock against your entrance. "Mind repeating yourself?"

You shake your head and wrap your arms around his neck.

"You're the worst," you grumble.

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple.

"I know," he admits as he sinks into you. Then again, this time quieter, almost failing to reach your ears. "I know."

[biteyoubiteme]

omgg congrats on 1k!!! can i request a txt+reader poly relationship (no mxm) sfw and nsfw headcanons or wtvr works with u. (also i love ur work hehe)

ot5 txt poly relationship thoughts

ot5 txt x fem!reader

warnings: 🔞!!! poly relationship, no mxm, free use, fingering, mentions of orgasm denial, blindfold, no protection mentioned, creampie(s), prob forgot some sorry

wc: 0.7k

an: omg thank you so much ;-; i’m so happy you like my works 🤍 I think im just known for ploy/throuple txt content now lol and I don't mind it at all I didn't notice exactly how much I write about the topic until I look at my mlist and it’s overfilled with threesomes lol

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

Your group chat is filled with the boys trying and failing to drop good pickup lines. Silly photos of you shared when one of them gets you alone even if it's for coffee, looks like my line worked. Always followed with complaints that their lines were clearly better. Sometimes the conversation travels past the group chat and into the dorms, arm wrestling competitions, Mario kart battles, and cold hard debates shared between them as they worked to get you in their bed that night over anyone else's. 

Most of the time they didn't let their competitive streaks win, sharing was in fact caring and they all agreed on that point without objection. It was often enough that you found yourself not only with one of them in bed but two, sometimes even all five. Those times were your favorites, always starting the same. One of their hands over your eyes as they kept you spread between them. 

They loved to have you guess between them, loved to punish you if you got one of them wrong. It always started with fingers, knowing instantly when Kai slipped in, piano player fingers so gentle as they found the perfect spot inside you to press. Beomgyu and soobin loved to use their middle and ring fingers, giving themselves away instantly. Taehyun and Yeonjun are harder to tell apart, only disturbed by yeonjuns inevitable slip up to get his lips on your clit, needing to taste you every single time. 

The guessing game continued with them having you lay on the edge of the bed, ass up and feet hanging off the side, someone's tie wrapped around your eyes to keep them covered. Your face pressed into the mattress as you scrambled to think up names after each deep thrust in without warning. They would go one after the other, and if you guessed right they would fuck you until they were done, not caring if you came, using you like a toy until you were begging for more, only shutting up when the next cock was shoved into your abused hole. 

“Who is it?” Taehyun would ask, voice pierced through with the sweet twinge of sin, always the one to ask even if he was the one between your legs so you could never tell who was actually behind you. Even if you didn't know, grasping at the sheets hard enough to bleach your knuckles, you'd fuck back onto them looking for an answer, toes slipping on the ground looking for leverage. “K-kai?” 

How they would chuckle, “Hum I don't think so,” huening would tease. “I guess she can't cum until we are all done with her,” “if at all,” 

“No! Soobin, it's soobin!” you would scramble to answer, the only thing you could think about was how completely fullyou were, stuffed until you could practically feel him in your tummy so deliciously that it melted your cognitive thinking. 

“Aw you know the rules, only one guess,” “She always gets so confused with the two of us,” 

“No please-” your clenching pussy worked wonders to convince whoever was lucky enough to be inside you. But never for long, they would bring you right to the edge before pulling it all away, thoroughly edging you until you were in tears begging for release. 

They never went long without catching you and pinning you against any surface to get a quick fill. Their little toy to use whenever and wherever they liked. It wasn't uncommon for one of them to walk in on you mid orgasm. A lazy cuddle on the couch with beomgyu turning into you with his fingers holding your chin making you face yeonjun as he demanded you to tell him how good he was making you feel. Yeonjun only just having sat down on the couch next to your shaking form as you squeaked out the words. Taehyun stealing you away to the shower long enough to keep you pinned against the glass begging him to fill you. 

Afterward was always the best, their fluttering questions so worried to make sure you're okay and well taken care of. Sharing the same bed whenever you could pull them all in for a snuggle needing to feel completely wrapped up in their warmth. 

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @no1likemybbgcharlie @chasingthatjjunie want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!