#Don’t mind the fact I used god’s hand as reference

[ajtheweirdo]

maybe in another world

[sevsgiirl]

hi! can you write sevika with a shy virgin femme reader? i think they would be cute!

— carve your name into my bedpost.

sevika week 2025: first time, day 2.

synopsis: after nearly a year, you were still wary about disclosing your lack of sexual experience with sevika in fear of disappointment. but she doesn’t mind. plus first time for everything right?

word count: 3k.

tags: soft dom!sevika, sub!reader, loss of virginity, choking, strap-ons referred to as cock, oral sex.

note: thank you so much for the req, anon! luckily your req matched the prompt for day 2 of sevika week so I just had to use it. you were probably expecting something more cute and wholesome and this might’ve deviated from that a little bit 😅 nevertheless, I hope you like it!

you never wanted to keep secrets from her.

you knew damn good and well it wouldn’t take long before sevika found out your dirty little secret - mostly because you didn’t do that great of a job at hiding it anyways.

in hindsight, you can see why she would think you had an aversion to her at this point. with you constantly dodging moments where you felt like things were becoming a bit too heated, pulling away just in time when you felt like the kisses grew hot and heavy - all of that just to avoid the one thing you felt like you weren’t ready for.

losing your virginity.

it seemed like such a silly thing to fuss over but it means a lot to you. you weren’t the type to wait until marriage but it tethered the line of something similar - you yearned for a connection before you even thought of getting to that stage with someone.

but it’s close to almost a year since you and sevika got together, and you’re actually surprised sevika was so patient in holding off sex with you until she knew you were ready.it’s a well known fact that between the two of you, sevika was always the more experienced one - from the age all the way to the day she approached you like she had nothing to lose, sevika maneuvered through your entire relationship like it was familiar to her right from the very beginning.

unlike you, you’ve always been squeamish. about everything. you were non confrontational when it came to others and you had a more calm and collected way of handling matters in your life compared to sevika who was always more straightforward.

and you liked it because it balanced the two of you out. she was never impatient with you, she took her time in figuring out the inner workings of your mind and behavior.

it was in those moments of consideration and patience that you realized that damn, she was the one. because it wasn’t often you came across partners who were as tolerant as her, who in spite of your clumsiness and indecisiveness, she was always understanding.

that’s why when your one year anniversary neared, you debated over the idea many times before you came to the conclusion that if you were going to lose your virginity to someone - it was going to be her.

it was nerve wracking because not only was it your first time being intimate with sevika, it was your first time being intimate with anyone. ever.

you weren’t as skilled or knowledgeable with sex as sevika so of course, it was only understandable to be scared that you might fuck things up the first time.

but it was either now or never, because you knew if you keep pending it off god knows it’ll take until your next anniversary before you bring it up again, and although you don’t doubt sevika would be willing to wait for you, deep down you knew you were going to crack regardless.

so when the time came and sevika took you to a nice picnic date where she showered you with great food and gifts, the moment you two came home you immediately stopped by the doorway and squeezed her hand tightly.

she paused in her tracks and looked back at you, her height imposing as she towered over your smaller frame and god, you never realized just how intimidating she was up until this moment.

she was all hard muscle and sharp edges, you don’t blame others for doubting that underneath her hardened exterior laid a provider and protector - someone who constantly looked out and cared for you.

“something wrong, baby?” she asked softly, stepping into your space as she pinched your chin in between her fingers and tilted your head so you could look at her directly.

making you even more nervous because it felt like she was putting you on the spot.

“I-I’ve… been thinking.” you stuttered out as she continued to stare you down “I think it’s time.”

she didn’t quite get it at first, but it wasn’t until you lifted your hand and put it against her toned stomach, that everything suddenly clicked inside her head.

she blinked “are you sure?”

you couldn’t suppress your smile seeing as how that even after a whole year together, she was still willing to let you take your time and see if you actually wanted this.

“I’m sure,” you sighed, looking down at your feet “it’s just… I don’t wanna disappoint,”

“baby, you know that’s impossible. we’ve been together long enough and it’s not like we haven’t already been familiar with each other’s-“

“it’s not-“ you let out a shaky chuckle “just that. sev, I never really told you this but… I haven’t done it with anyone. like ever.”

she froze by the threshold of your apartment and looked at you, dumbfounded. processing your words just for a moment before her eyes softened and she reached out, cupping your face in her calloused palm as she nudged her nose with yours. an affectionate gesture, one that soothed your nerves in an instant.

“no wonder it took you a while. I just thought maybe you weren’t sure about me at first,” she admitted and you immediately shook your head.

“trust me, I’ve never been more sure about doing it with anyone more than I am with you. you…” you paused to gaze into her eyes, feeling your heart clench at the way she was looking at you like you hung the stars “you make me feel so safe, sev.”

she could’ve crumbled right here and there. she might never say it outright like how you just did but the truth of the matter is, no one has ever left this much of an impact on her not until you came along.

before you, she was used to meaningless flings and hookups - dropping by at the gardens to fulfill her needs with any of the girls there because for the longest time, she thought commitment wasn’t for her.

then you proved her wrong.

so you could only imagine she wanted this to be special for you, but also from the deepest pits of her subconscious lingered a thought - one she was too ashamed to confess but the truth is, your inexperience turned her on more than anything.

perhaps it was the juxtaposition between you two. whereas sex was almost like second nature to her - for you it was a foreign language, but sevika savored the thought of being the one to take your virginity. of being the one to set the standard.

because if there was one thing she was certain about - not only was she going to be your first, but she was also going to be your goddamn last.

𐙚˙⋆.˚

fidgeting on the edge of your bed, you were like a leaf in the wind.

sevika could sense your nerves already. she told you to wait for her in your shared bedroom as she got herself ready.

you were still clad in your underwear and an oversized shirt. having taken your makeup off from the date earlier, you waited for sevika to emerge from the bathroom - your knees bouncing and your palms sweaty.

by the time you heard the door creak open however, the whole atmosphere froze as sevika stepped out and your whole mouth went dry.

because there she was, in nothing but her tight boxers that accentuated her thick, muscular thighs while she was left bare everywhere else.

you eyed her from head to toe - she’d taken off her prosthetic and you focused on her right arm as she flexed her bicep. her toned abs were on display as well as her visible V line that led your gaze down to her crotch where you noticed a happy trail peeking out from beneath her briefs.

you felt like a pervert.

your cheeks reddened as she walked closer to where you sat on the bed, trapping your legs together with her own as you clenched your thighs and she couldn’t help but smirk at how visibly nervous you were.

“relax for me, baby.” she purred, caressing your cheek before she pulled away to approach the dresser.

she rummaged through the insides for a bit and you tried to take a peek at what she was looking for, but all your curiosity died down the second you saw it.

a pool of heat suddenly flooded your insides the second you caught sight of the harness she had in her hand, as well as the girthy, long black dildo that was attached to it as she walked back to you.

she stopped in front of you with her eyebrow raised “you know what this is?” she asked and you were silent for a bit before you sheepishly nodded your head.

her eyes glinted mischievously “good,” she thrusted the strap to your open hands.

“because I’m gonna fuck you with it.”

your entire body grew hot as soon as those words left her mouth “is that alright with you?” again, you nodded your head, a little bit too eagerly and she could only chuckle.

“okay, now help me put it on. then we’ll prep you.” she said and you quickly got out of your daze as you helped her.

once it was on, the harness was snug tightly around her hips while the faux cock bobbed up and down the air.

you gulped, eyes wide and sevika was quick to ease your worries “don’t worry, we’ll take things slow.” she said as she bent down to give you a kiss.

it was warm, soothing but quick before she straightened her posture, hands finding purchase at the back of your head as she guided your mouth to her cock.

“open up for me, sweetheart.”

it was less of a request and more so a demand, nevertheless you parted your lips willingly and took her in your mouth inch by inch. meanwhile she made sure you didn’t go too fast as to not gag right away.

“shhh, that’s it. take it easy,” she muttered, licking her lips as she took in the sight of you struggling to swallow her cock “ease your jaw a bit, and relax your tongue. you don’t need to go all the way.”

you looked up at her with teary eyes and followed her instructions as sevika gently pressed her hand at the nape of your neck.

helping you as you slid your lips up and down her shaft while the obscene, wet sounds of your mouth swallowing her dick filled the room.

meanwhile, her breathing grew heavy as she lets out a groan “fuck, baby. you take my cock so well. so fucking good for me.”

she abruptly but gently pulled you away and you couldn’t help the whine that slipped out of you, making her chuckle.

“don’t worry, we’re just getting started. you were doing so good already though, weren’t you?” she cooed, wiping away a stray tear from your eye “now lay down for me, beautiful.”

and as you were about to follow her orders she suddenly stopped you “lose the shirt.”

you obliged, taking it off to reveal you with nothing but your underwear and no bra on. her eyes darkened as she reached forward and took one of your breast in her hand, kneading it before she carefully pushed at your collarbone as your back hit the mattress.

she kneeled in front of you and parted your knees, her hand sliding one side of your underwear down for you as you helped her pull down the other.

she lets out a curse once she saw your glistening folds “jesus,” she was dumbstruck, her eyes nearly obsidian “all this just from sucking my cock?“

you squirmed and instinctively tried to close your legs, but she pinned them down “I don’t think so.” her fingers glided along your inners thighs as she drew her head closer, her breath fanning against your clenching hole and you shuddered.

words couldn’t even describe the sensation when her tongue did a languid swipe at your needy cunt, your back immediately arching off the bed as sevika did her best to anchor you down with one arm. her eyes gazing up at you like a predator watching its prey before it decided to devour it whole.

and devour you whole she did, because one moment she was soft and gentle with the way she licked across your puffy walls then all of a sudden she took your clit in between her lips and sucked. hard.

you yelped because the feeling was just too intense. you’ve touched yourself before on multiple occasions but nothing could’ve compared to the real thing. laying down as your lover spread you open and savored every inch of you.

not to mention the sounds. the way she slurped at your cunt like it was the finest of delicacies while she moaned, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine as you jolted.

“fuck, fuck, fuck. sevika…” you cried as she added in a finger, pushing it in and out of you before adding another - scissoring them back and forth inside you as she curled them at the right angle that had you seeing stars for a moment “oh my god!”

you poured into her all sticky and warm, your slick dripping off her chin and she hummed, wringing your orgasm out of you.

“god, you take me so fucking well, baby.” she crawled up on top of you and kissed you like she was starving for it. the taste of your cum still fresh on the ends of her tongue.

“I think you’re ready now,” she claimed “if it gets too much you tell me, okay? we’ll stop right away. push me away if you have to.”

you shook your head “I’m fine, j-just… fuck me, please.”

she didn’t need to be told twice, with how desperate you sounded and the way your body responded to her, she was a lost cause.

before you knew it, she was guiding the tip of her cock and sliding it back and forth along your pussy lips, sinking into you little by little and you immediately held onto her shoulders for stability. feeling so deliciously full as you began grinding your hips onto hers, seeking friction.

“w-we’ll take it slow.” she said but even she wasn’t sure how long that was going to last, especially with how you looked up at her - all blissed out and opened mouthed.

stroking her cock in a careful back and forth before she bottomed out, punching a broken moan out of you as you felt the ridges of her cock massage your inner walls.

“it feels so good, sev. oh my god. so fucking good, baby. I love your cock.” you were practically slurring your words at this point and sevika had to physically restrain herself from driving herself into you with vigor.

this was your first time and she didn’t want to overwhelm you, but all of that simply got thrown out the window when she felt you dig your claws into her back, pulling her in.

“faster, sev. please.”

she shook her head, keeping her strokes steady and slow “b-baby, I don’t-“

“p-please. fuck me harder. I wont break, I-I need it so bad, sev. please.”

just like that, it was like a light switch was turned on. one moment her pace was deliberate and careful then the next, she was slamming into you that the head board smacked repeatedly against the wall.

not being able to contain the growl that rumbled from the depths of her chest as your pathetic whines filled her ears.

pounding her cock into you with such fervor that you could instantly feel your second orgasm bubbling beneath the surface.

“I’m gonna cum, sev. I’m gonna cum, baby, oh my g-god!-“

“that’s it,” she whispered, reaching out as she wrapped her hand around your throat and squeezed. not too tight but just enough to get your mind fuzzy “be a good girl and cum for me. you’re so fucking good.”

beads of sweat slid down her forehead as she continued to drive into you.

“you’re so perfect, baby.” she whispered “never gonna let you go. I’m gonna be the only one who gets to fuck you like this, you hear me?”

your mind was practically blank as you only managed to nod your head in response.

she was panting heavily as she watched you approach the brink of your climax “good girl. I’m your first and last. nobody else.“

and that was the final nail to the coffin. with the band in your stomach instantly snapping, your slick poured out of you. abundant and wet as you cried into the crook of sevika’s neck due to the overstimulation.

“holy shit…” sevika muttered in disbelief seeing the way you squirted all over her.

it took about a minute or two before your pleasure finally subsided. your body deflating as she took you in her arms and pulled out.

the emptiness making you whine but she was quick to soothe it away as she captured your lips with her own. her tongue meeting yours in a passionate kiss as she held you against her you like you were made out of porcelain.

eventually, you had to pull away for air and once you did, she stood up and took the harness off her hips. heading to the bathroom meanwhile you were left in bed with your eyes shut, content.

you heard the faucet running and you felt exhaustion overcome you not until you felt a wet sensation around your inner thighs.

opening your eyes to see sevika cleaning you up with a damp wash cloth, and once she felt your gaze on her she all but smiled.

“I hope it was good for your first time,” she said and you couldn’t help but snort.

“good?” you repeated with a shake of your head “what we just did made me realize that I’m either marrying you or killing you because I don’t think sex with any other person is ever going to top… that.”

she couldn’t help it as she lets out a roar of laughter, making you smile.

“sadly you’re not going anywhere,” you said to which she could only chuckle at.

“yeah well,” she grinned, squeezing your hip affectionately “I don’t think I would want to either. I like it right here.”

[latteodyssey]

‘cause my baby's sweet as can be | being damian wayne’s love interest headcannons˚｡⋆ ୨୧

masterlist

craving your company. — he didn’t like admitting it to himself at first, that as much as he would make snarky comments about how annoying it was that you wouldn’t leave him alone, he started missing you deeply when you weren’t around. his head was gradually consumed by thoughts about how much you would have to talk about the topic of conversation that someone just mentioned, or how you would have made a comment about the scene from the movie he was currently watching.

deny, deny, deny. — he’s a stubborn man, it took days of spiraling and coming up with theories as to why he felt that way, before he finally came to terms with the fact that he’s into you. It had nothing to do with who you are as a person, but it had everything to do with him refusing to accept being vulnerable, accepting that he had no control over how he felt. And god knows how much he hated when things were out of his control.

the way you had such a deep effect on him without even knowing made him terrified to say the least.

doesn’t know how to act— he didn’t approach you right away after realizing the nature of his feelings for you, instead, you would often catch him staring at you, eyebrows furrowed. he would worry so much about his next move, his next line, that he wouldn’t even notice the face of extreme concentration he was making – which you would often mistake for annoyance.

“are you mad at me?” you asked, a mixture of concern and confusion filling your voice as you try to make sense out of the situation “you’re looking at me like you are”.

“i assure you I’m not” he answered in a matter of fact way, which did nothing to calm your nerves. little did you know, he was trying to control his own “you can continue on with your story”.

he’s terrible at giving compliments — instead, he makes observations, about the little things he notices about you, about the moments where he missed your presence – but he tells you in a way that you can’t tell if he’s being nice or sending a corporate email. "y/n. you’ve changed your hair.", “you weren’t at patrol/school today”.

makes excuses to hang out with you — damian always looks forward to spending time by your side, even if it’s just accompanying you while you do mundane things. suddenly it’s “I have nothing better to do” or “i don’t trust you to successfully achieve this alone, so I’ll come with you”.

practicing it in his head — he can’t just say how he feels, it needs to be done in the most perfect and efficient way possible. he spent days planning the way he would confess how he feels about you, where he would do it, exactly how he would say it, and how he would react to any possible outcome. he ends up doing it in the middle of an argument, unplanned.

“you’re so annoying, i don’t even know why I’m in love with you!”

a creature of habit — damian eventually got used, and attached to, the routine aspects of your relationship, it gave him a sense of stability deeply cherishes . the way you always kissed his cheek when you would part ways, the way you reach for his hand when walking, the fact that you call him just to say goodnight. and he misses these little things in case you end up forgetting.

you'll be drifting off to sleep when you hear your phone ringing, the blue light illuminating your face as damian's contact pops up on the screen. you pick up the call, there's a quick moment of silence before you hear his voice, heavy with sleepiness. "you didn't wish me goodnight."

“you called me just for that?”

“You don’t desire for me to have a good night?”

old fashioned terms of endearment — beloved, darling, and dear are his go-to nicknames for you. When talking to other people, he might refer to you as “my y/n” often.

using you as a human pillow — similarly to a cat, he approaches you silently, almost like he's expecting you to read his mind, resting his head against your shoulder, or laying it your lap. he's especially happy when you gently run your fingers through his hair. he feels almost addicted to your touch, the warmth of your hand against his skin.

[loserabby]

could you write something on eating out big pussy!abby for the first time

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚.     𝐒𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐑 (𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐈'𝐌 𝐀 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑) big clit!abby x reader

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ . ** MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THIS IS AN 18+ BLOGI DO NOT GIVE ANYBODY PERMISSION TO REUPLOAD OR PLAGARISE MY WORK. IF YOU SEE SOMETHING I'VE WRITTEN ANYWHERE ELSE OTHER THAN HERE OR MY A03, PLEASE LET ME KNOW VIA ASK **

₊˚ 𓂃 ₊ ˚ ✧     some people just aren't into receiving, or at least that's what you think the problem is when it comes to the fact that your girlfriend of two months still won't let you make her feel good. until you accidentally catch her naked for the first time and suddenly you start to get an idea about what might actually be the problem.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 :     explicit language and content, use of Y/N, no outbreak au (modern), established relationship, references to sex, enlarged clitoris (clitoromegaly), slight misunderstandings. sexual content: kissing, dry humping (once again, to quote madeline argy: BRING BACK DRY HUMPING), mentions of strap-ons and sex-toys, cunnilingus, cum eating. slight dirty talk. mentions of past bodyshaming, embarrassment 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 :     5,869k

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 :     i mean i imagine her pussy to be an absolute meal in all my writing but this one really focus' on it. shout out to @onlyheluvsme for being the mvp of team big clit abby i highly recommend going through her masterlist for that it's... chefs kiss. ngl the smut is not my best but this has been fermenting in my drafts for like a week and showed no signs of getting better I'M SORRY. and finally, clitoromegaly is obviously nothing to be embarrassed by and i don't want anyone to take abby's shame/bad experiences in the past as me mocking the mutation but it is something others might not be as well educated about so i didn't want to pretend that doesn't happen.     [ read on ao3 ]

[ border credit ]     [ resources for palestine ]     [ boycott tlou ]

Admittedly, it takes a few times before you start to pick up on a recurring theme and when you do pick up on it? You don’t just feel guilty but… Curious, and deep down… Disappointed. 

Abby had wanted to take it slow and to her credit, you guys had only been officially dating for two months. Taking that into consideration with classes, part-time jobs and other college related things that meant you were both busy, it was understandable that she wanted to take it slow when you guys were able to see each other. 

She was a gentleman, making sure to take you out on proper dates first — not just somewhere quick and then have her hand up your skirt on the car ride home but actual restaurants with recommended dishes and signature wines that just confused you. She’d kissed you properly for the first time in her apartment on date number three, a movie forgotten about in the background but even then, she’d wanted to keep the pacing of your relationship slow.

But when you did start to get hot and heavy? God, it was good. So blindsightingly good you didn’t notice that every time it seemed to always focus on you. 

Climb on her lap? She readjusts you so you’re straddling her thigh instead and you’re so lost to the pleasure of your clit dragging against your panties and the hard muscle of her leg to pick up on it. 

Your hand snakes down to try and touch her pussy? She’s got your wrists pinned above your head in one hand, your nipples caught between her teeth and her other hand rubbing fast circles against your clit before you know it.

It doesn’t help that by the time you’re both in those situations, it’s late and when Abby finally decides she’s pulled enough orgasms out of you — slick coating your thighs, sticky against your cunt, her chin shiny from where she’d used her mouth on you and fingers still smelling of you even after she’s sucked them clean obscenely in front of you — you’re too exhausted to even think about cleaning up, never mind returning the favor.

Which fucking sucks cause when you do realise you can’t help but pout at how many opportunities you’ve been robbed of seeing her eyes roll to the back of her head, to see what her pussy looks like as it quivers. 

You were no stranger to pussy, it’s not like you wouldn’t know what to do. In fact you were proud to say you were very much a giver in that you could spend all day between a girls thighs much like Abby has done for you previously.

You’ve dated other girls before that maybe weren’t as keen on reciprocating and, given the circumstances, you assume at first that maybe that’s what Abby thinks about you. You had just rolled over and gone straight to sleep (albeit after making her spoon you and wrapping her big, strong arms around you beforehand so you’d feel safe in your fucked out state) so it wasn’t unreasonable to assume that she had assumed you were a pillow princess.

Respectfully to all pillow princesses, that misconception simply will not do.

So you try and subtly make it clear that you are very much interested in being a munch the next time Abby has you pressed into her sofa at her campus apartment, fingers buried knuckle deep inside your pussy, so wet you can hear every movement as she fucks you harshly. Abby’s got her mouth on your neck, sucking dark marks at your collarbones that make you whimper and keen before soothing them with her tongue and soft kisses as her thumb strums over your clit.

“So fucking pretty, baby, look at you swallowing my fingers so easily… Greedy little hole’s sucking me in” The blonde hisses against your skin, having to use her other hand that was groping your tits roughly to keep your thighs open. They’re shaking, threatening to slam shut even with Abby lying between them and you whimper as you feel her fingers digging into the soft flesh. 

Last time she left the prettiest bruises there, you’d spent days pressing your own touch to them just to feel the ache, an embarrassing wave of sadness coming over you when they started to fade. So maybe you purposely don’t hold back from letting your thighs twitch and writhe so she’s forced to hold you tighter, just so you’re maybe gifted with another reminder of her touch.

“Please, please… Let me, I wanna…” It’s unclear what you’re begging for, to cum or to touch her. You’re so close but not quite lost to the delirium Abby brings by orgasm number three so you take advantage of that, shaky hand coming out to grip at the butch woman’s jeans but faltering, instead clutching at whatever you can grab when her fingers start pounding at that gummy spot deep inside only she seems able to find as your vision starts to white out. 

You can feel yourself clenching around her fingers, the sound of your weeping pussy obscene as she continues her relentless finger fucking. “Shit, baby, you’re so.. Fucking.. Tight” she grits the words out, chuckling when she looks at you beneath her with your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your back arching off the couch and your head thrown back so far. “You coming? Gonna make a mess on the leather for me? C’mon, lets see how messy this pretty pussy can get for me, yeah?”

It doesn’t take long after that, pussy squirting all over Abby’s hand and dripping down your ass to the leather couch like Abby predicted, but even then she doesn’t let up with her relentless torture of your clit and hole. You try to grab at her jeans again, trying to unbutton them but she shakes her head, eyes wide for a split second before she’s making soft coaxing noises, your hands pinned above your head again. “All about you, baby” Is all she murmurs against your skin, before she makes sure to send you over the edge again and again, effectively cutting off any urgency in completing your task.

The next time you try and focus on Abby, try to make it clear you want to reciprocate is when the two of you are watching a movie at her apartment, your body lazily thrown over her and your head resting in the crook of her neck and your arms tossed around her.

Slowly your attention drifts from the screen, bored by some adaptation of a historical-fiction book Abby read but you’ve never heard of. Your lips slowly trail down her neck, featherlight kisses pressed to her collarbones as one of your arms drops and begins to drift below the blanket she’d pulled out to keep you both warm.

Abby’s attention is still on the film, still pointing out changes they made from the book to the movie but you know the moment she realises where your hand has gone. You feel her reaction more than see it, how her breath catches and her body stiffens. Your hand immediately stops tracing her crotch, teasing line drug along her slit over the fabric of her basketball shorts. 

“Sorry, I didn’t— I shouldn’t..” You pull your hand away quickly, your apology rushed and face hot from embarrassment. 

“We should, um.. We should focus on the film, yeah?” Abby says after some consideration, and you just wanna hide in embarrassment and shame because she clearly didn’t like that. 

You miss how she clenches her thighs together, mistake her heart racing for being out of panic and try to ignore the failed attempt at seducing your girlfriend when she has you bent over the sofa a few hours later on her strap in the low light of her living room, cooing in your ear about how pretty you look dripping down her cock.

Maybe you come to the conclusion Abby might be a stone butch, a touch-me-not, whatever the hell you wanna call it. Because she seems to shy away with every advance you make to try and reciprocate. 

You get it if that is the case but can’t help but feel like that should have been mentioned, communicated in some way so you didn’t feel so… Weird about it. Sue me, you think, is it so wrong to want to touch your girlfriend? Your incredibly attractive girlfriend? No, surely not.

You wouldn’t exactly say it’s a deal breaker, you like Abby a lot. Even in the little amount of time you both have been together already, she’s amazing and not just physically — although that is certainly a perk. 

She’s thoughtful, caring, she makes sure to check in with everyone (seemingly knowing everyone on campus). She always sends a good morning and a good night text, even when she’s deep in her study sessions or writing papers. She makes sure all your dates are ‘real’ ones, even if it’s just going to her apartment to make dinner cause she wanted to make sure you didn’t feel like you were being used for your body. Hell, she even made sure to let you know where the spare key to her apartment was kept so you could let yourself in after that time you got caught in the rain outside waiting for her.

Which leads to now; Enter you, spare key in hand after sending a rushed text to Abby saying you were coming over to talk when you realised you couldn’t go any further without discussing boundaries. 

You should have realised something had thrown a wrench in your plan the second you stepped foot in Abby’s apartment really, the small space weirdly quiet and steam slowly rolling out of her bathroom. Distantly, you can hear the low murmur of music coming from her bedroom, the door slightly ajar.

You’re calling Abby’s name as you push through the door, not bothering to knock as you assume she’s read your text. It’s only when you process what’s in front of you that you come to the realisation that you seem to do an awful lot of assuming — and you know what they say, to assume is to make an ass out of you and me.

Because Abby clearly didn’t read your text, not based on the horrified look on her face when you walk in on her stark naked on her bed. Her skin is flushed, still damp from the shower she’d clearly just taken and her hair dripping big, fat water droplets onto her chest. Her muscled thighs are spread open, heels digging into the mattress as her fingers remain still stuffed deep inside her dripping hole. Her bush is wild and untamed, a light brown that curls through her fingers as her other hand spreads her lips wide open

There’s a voice in the back of your head, a really unnecessary one that points out that it seems like Abby does like being touched after all, but maybe just not by you.

But the best part of the sight — or the worse part, taking Abby’s look of utter shock into consideration — is her pussy, just as a whole. Her enlarged clit, erect and pulsating as it seems to stand to attention. Her pussy as a whole is big, the kind of big that makes your mouth begin to salivate, embarrassingly, as you think playing with it.

It makes you realise you’d never actually seen her pussy before, that every time the two of you fucked she was either fully clothed or had her strap on over her boxers. How cruel of her to hide that perfect pussy away.

“I… I texted” You say weakly after a few moments of silence, stood in a half step in the door way. 

Abby doesn’t move, and you don’t know what else to say as you spiral, murmuring apologies and rushing back out the door before Abby is able to process what just happened.

Communicating isn’t going so well, more so after you accidentally walked in on Abby’s post-shower masturbation session. She’s avoided pretty much all your texts asking to talk and even gone as far as changing her routine to avoid running into you.

It kind of leaves you in a weird limbo where you’re not quite sure where you went wrong. There’s definitely areas you could have improved on (i.e. actually communicating about boundaries from the start so all this assuming bullshit didn’t happen) but you texted, you said you were coming by. Maybe you could have shouted a hello when you first entered the apartment but the last time Abby was in when you did she said you didn’t have to.

You’re also just incredibly unaware as to what the state of your relationship even is anymore? Is Abby still your girlfriend? Does she only like to touch herself and not be touched by others? It’s frustrating, yes, but you can’t help but feel like you owe Abby the time to digest what happened.

After all, it was her that got walked in on in her own home, completely naked and knuckle deep inside of herself. You can cut the blonde a break.

Doesn’t stop you from salivating at the memory of how beautiful and fucked out she looked that split second before she realised she’d been caught, face contorted in pleasure and juices spilling down past her knuckles.

After a dozen texts to Abby, ranging from apologies to simple messages telling her you missed her and you would wait until she was ready to talk, it’s a week later you finally get a response. It’s simple, to the point and very Abby.

[ Abs ] : You can come to my apartment for dinner, we should talk.

A terrifying text to receive, given the circumstances. The ‘you can come for dinner’ aspect giving you a sense of security, it makes you feel like everythings fine but the ‘we should talk’ part? That’s sending ‘break up talk’ alarm bells ringing through your head.

You text back nervously, asking what time and if you should bring anything. You end up outside her apartment door, pointedly ignoring the space where her spare key is hidden like it might burn, with a bottle of wine in hand as you wait for her to answer.

When she does, there’s a tension between the two of you the moment your eyes meet and — thank god — it’s not a bad kind. It’s like suddenly you’ve both had the air knocked out of you, like you hadn’t realised you’d been missing a piece of yourselves until you saw what was missing right in front of you. Two months you’ve been together, god Lesbians were stereotypically quick to get attached.

You can see how Abby’s eyes soften, warm when she sees you and she has to steady both her hands on the door frame as she welcomes you inside.

“Dinner might be a while,” She says, uncharacteristically timid seeming, her hand drifting to your lower back as she guides you into the apartment. “Sorry, took a little while longer than I thought but, um… We can sit on the sofa? Maybe, uh, if you want we could talk now? Get it out of the way?”

Get it out of the way?

You place the bottle of wine on the coffee table, heart racing as you consider what Abby might be about to say. God, is she about to break up with you? No, she couldn’t be… She’s made dinner, it would be epicly cruel to break up with you and then expect you to stay for whatever homemade pasta dish she’s made.

“I’m sorry!” The words spill from your mouth at a rapid speed, not even bothering to stop to give her a chance to cut in — her brows shot high and eyes wide as you ramble. “I-I texted and I thought that was enough but clearly I didn’t think that through, and I totally should have shouted to let you even know I had arrived in the apartment but I just didn’t think. But.. You.. I.. I froze when I saw, I mean how could I not but I thought you didn’t like that, and I guess that’s my own fault cause I never asked what you do and don’t like — we kinda forgot to have that talk a-and—”

“Woah, woah, Y/N, slow—” Abby tries to cut in, hands coming to your arms to try and stop them from moving around wildly as you talk. “What are you talking about, c’mon, slow down.”

“It’s my own fault, I didn’t notice for way too long and when I finally did, I realised you probably thought I was just a pillow princess so I kept trying to subtly show my interest but you— a-and then you kept pushing me away or turning it back on me so I just figured you didn’t like being touched, stone butch or whatever but then i-in your bed… you… you were touching yourself a-and—”

You only stop, words cutting off suddenly, when Abby takes your face in her hands and forces you to look at her.

“Y/N. Baby, stop. I need you to breathe, calm down for a sec’ okay?” Her words are spoken so softly, the care dripping off each word as she brushes a strand of hair behind your ear gently. “Can you do that for me, slow down and take a breath?”

You nod slowly, watching her reverently. Abby’s tongue darts out to wet her lips as she watches you, taking a deep breath of her own. “I should have talked to you sooner, I’m sorry I just… got caught in my own head. Maybe none of this would have happened if I’d of done that, but if you still want… If you’re still wanting us I’d like to talk now, if that’s okay?” She sounds nervous as she speaks, the words almost practiced. You nod, giving her the time to speak and watching as her hands drop from your face to twiddle nervously on her lap.

“I… It’s not that I don’t like to be touched, I want— I really want that, but I… I haven’t had the greatest experiences in the past when it came to… Other people and what they thought of my body” Your heart aches as Abby speaks, her blue eyes cast down to where her hands lay nervously on her lap and her voice going soft.

“I just… Got used to hiding my body, you know and I didn’t even realise I was doing it until you… You remember that night we were watching the City of Thieves film and you—” She didn’t need to go any further, your face brightening in shame as you recall the awkward rejection. “I just didn’t know how to… broach the subject, y’know, and it’s not like I really thought you’d be judgemental and mean about my body but it’s just built up after so many negative reactions”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, eyes narrowing slightly as you stare at your girlfriend. “Why would I judge you? I know you’re big, I know you’re muscle-y, why would I be mean about that?” You ask in genuine confusion, causing Abby to freeze and look at you equally as confused.

After a beat, she speaks slowly. “You… You think that I was talking… about my body-body?” After a beat, you nod just as slowly. “I was talking about my pussy” She finishes after a long space of silence, blunt and to the point.

Your head cocks to the side, confusion still clear in your expression as you process what she’s saying. What the fuck is so wrong about her pussy? You didn’t see anything wrong with it in that small (but well committed to memory) glimpse you’d had of it. “I don’t?—”

“Shit, you don’t… You really don’t see a problem, do you?” She sounds like she’s in awe, like your total lack of an issue around her genitals is something groundbreaking which makes a simmering bit of rage begin to boil inside of you because who in their damn right mind made the beautiful, the amazing Abby fucking Anderson so insecure in her body she couldn’t even show her girlfriend what she looked like?!

“Shit, okay, uh… I mean, you know — you saw — it’s big. Fatter than the norm’ I guess. It’s a mutation, congenital… I just.. I guess a lot of people I’ve been with have found it weird, ugly a-and they didn’t really wanna.. return the favor or do anything I guess.”

Yep, definitely rage you feel below the surface. The idea that Abby has been dealing with this because of people that were supposed to care for her speaking so badly about her body, for their reactions to something she cannot control makes you clench your fists. But you force yourself to relax, fingers stretching out on your thighs as you try to remain cool.

“Like I said, I didn’t really realise I was doing it until you started to, y’know… And I don't know, I couldn’t stop myself from panicking that it was gonna be the same reaction all over again. I just.. I couldn’t handle seeing that look of… of disgust on your face, not… you.”

Your delicate hands reach out to capture hers, stopping her from picking at the skin around her thumbs nervously as she speaks, to get her attention. “Abby, I.. I know other people have reacted that way but I would never—”

Her cheeks tinge red, her bottom lip drawn between her teeth and a small smirk etching its way onto her face. “I know, Y/N”

“You— You do?”

She nods, looking up to meet your eyes. “Yeah, I know. I, uh.. I figured that out.”

Your face pulls together again in confusion and slight annoyance, if she knew that then why did you spend the last week getting ghosted?! “What do you mean?”

“You have this look that comes over your face whenever you get turned on… Normally see it whenever I’m getting you off but, uh… That day, when you walked in on me? You had it when you were looking at me”

Your mouth drops open, breathless as you take that in. It’s no surprise though, you had been incredibly turned on at the sight, even thinking about it now has a wet spot forming in your panties at just the thought of Abby’s legs spread to unveil that beautiful cunt.

Shaking off the haze of lust, you focus on Abby. “So… Why did you, I mean I was happy to wait as long as you needed — I mean, again, I walked in on you a-and you needed to process that shock — but… why did you wait so long to talk?”

She heaves out a slow sigh, scratching at the back of her neck. “It was just weird, this bizarre 180 I was experiencing where this thing about me and my body that was always… weird for others and that I was kind of, y’know, expecting to be weird for you was suddenly attractive. That made you get that fucked out, horny expression on your face and I… I couldn’t believe it.”

“And now?”

“I mean… I believe it”

At that, your hand comes out to lightly smack at her arm, the both of you falling into light rumbles of laughter. Your hand lingers on Abby’s arm, dropping after a moment too long.

“Asshole,” softly you shake your head, a smile forming on your lips as you dip her head down. “I meant and now what? I mean, I take it this isn’t you breaking up with me like I was worried about?”

Her eyes widen in slight horror, like she hadn’t considered all of the nightmare scenarios that had been swarming in your mind over the last week. “N-No, no, absolutely not. Shit, you didn’t think— God, okay. No, no breakup was ever considered for the record”

That definitely eases the weeks worth of tension that had built up. 

You bite your lip, leaning forward into Abby’s space slightly. After a moment of silence, your needy eyes lift to meet Abby’s “Can we just skip to the part where we kiss and make-up?”

The other girl barely gets her own eager nod out before you’re clambering onto her lap, hands in her hair as you kiss her hard and messily. Your tongue licks into her mouth aggressively, small noises falling from the two of you as your hips rocks against hers. You missed this, missed how Abby tasted, how her tongue felt against yours as she explored your mouth just as thoroughly.

“I missed— missed you… so.. much” Heavy pants bracket each and every word, only broken by Abby pulling your lips back to hers as she devours you whole. She only pulls back with a high-keening hiss when you roll your hips in a certain way against her that makes her clit throb in her boxers. “Fuck, baby, careful” She sounds so pretty when she whines, her lip bitten as her head rolls back against the back sofa cushions.

Her head rolls to the side, looking at the kitchen before she swallows thickly, looking back at you. Her large hands move down to your hips, tapping the hip bones to get you to stand up. 

“Gonna save the food before we forget and burn the apartment down, you… Get in the bedroom” The way she breathes the words out, like she’s as affected as you are makes your head spin and you’re quick to scramble off her lap and into her bedroom.

Abby’s on you quicker than you realise, shoes barely kicked off before she’s at your back and kissing down the column of your neck with her hands running up and down your sides. Turning to face her, you drag her down into a punishing kiss until you feel her bed hit the back of your knees. You don’t fall back though, turning the two of you so Abby now has her back to the bed.

You’re panting when you break the kiss, wetting your lips despite the messy kiss as you look up at Abby through thick lashes with deep arousal. She looks equally as fucked, hair messy from where your fingers have gone through it as you both made out and her blue eyes dark with need. “Get on the bed for me, Abs. Like… Like you were that day” You sound fucked out already, thinking back to when you caught her touching herself like a wanton whore. You see the moment it registers in Abby’s mind what you’re asking her to do, a single raised eyebrow as she breathes heavily.

Slowly she strips her clothes, kicking her own shoes off. You spend equal time helping her discard her clothes as you do standing back and admiring her form, salivating as her tits spring free of her sports bra. She’s just got her boxers left when she crawls onto the bed, laying back against the headboard before lifting her hips and pulling them free.

She pulls them past her ankles and throws them on the floor, landing with a soft noise by your feet. Not that you notice, no, you’re too focused on Abby. Lay back on the bed, completely bare with only her knees propped up straight and infront of her to cover that pretty pussy of hers.

Your eyes are dark, hungry as you stare ahead, right where you know her crotch is covered by her legs. “Abby, that’s not how you were lay when I caught you” The words are low, almost rough as you wait, watching.

Her long hair, free from the braid she always wears, cascading messily down her shoulders is pushed behind her nervously before she slowly spreads her thighs and finally mirrors the position you’d caught her in a week ago.

Her heels aren’t quite digging into the mattress with need the way they were that day, but Abby isn’t nearly as worked over as she was then either. Still, you move forward hungrily, almost drawn to her like a magnet with your palms spread on the mattress to catch yourself as you instinctively move to get closer to her glistening slit. You look like a predator, crawling up from the foot of the bed and settling between her thighs, eyeing her pussy like prey.

She’s wet, so fucking wet you know your fingers would glide with ease through her folds. It makes you dizzy with lust, watching how her large clit throbs as you stare it down.

“Fuck, what… What now?” Abby whines, voice soft and breathy.

“Show me what you were doing before I walked in” Your voice is low, rough and your eyes don’t lift once from her drenched core.

You can hear the needy whines from Abby, her soft little moans that make you want to bite and kiss at her skin but she does as she’s told. Her hands come down to her pussy, one hand spreading her lips wide to show you everything while her other eases in with slow circles against her clit.

Not that she needs warming up, not with how quick she is to react to the barely there circular motions she does. “C’mon baby, you can do more. What did you do with this pretty pussy after that?”

Bottom lip drawn between her teeth, Abby can’t help but watch your darkened gaze as she drags two of her thick fingers through her slick, coating them with her juices before working them inside her hole.

Instinctively you lean in closer, inhaling her scent as you watch her twitching hole stretch to take her digits. Each time she fucks her fingers into herself, slowly and so fucking erotically, you watch as her hips lift slightly to meet her fingers, clit bumping against her palm and leaving a messy trail behind.

“So fucking gorgeous, look so pretty stretched around your fingers” You barely register your own voice, that you’ve said anything as you practically drool at the sight. No, wait, you’re actually drooling. Okay, between that and the obscene sounds of Abby fucking herself you can’t stop yourself, deciding you’d waited long enough to give.

Still, you can’t stop yourself from teasing before you stop her as you begin by kissing up her ankles. Your lips make sure to suck the occasional hickey the closer you get to her inner thighs, laughing low and wickedly when you hear her whine so pretty and the muscles of her thighs quiver. By the time you make your way close to where she wants you — and more importantly, where you have been wanting to be all this time — you have to take a moment to just… stare.

Take it in.

Fucking beautiful.

Licking a stripe up her pussy, slow flat tongue against her before sucking her fat clit into your mouth and laughing as she keens, hips lifting off the mattress before moaning at the taste of her. Above you, Abby’s head eventually falls back against the headboard with a soft thud as she makes a low, whining noise.

That’s when you start eating her out like a woman starved, messy and unashamed as you go to town. Licking her long and rough, spit falling from your mouth as you suck her clit into your mouth and lay one of your hands flat against her abdomen to keep her from lifting off the bed. She melts like honey on your tongue, the sheets beneath her messy with a mixture of her arousal and your saliva as it drips both down her ass and off your chin.

You’re eating her out half with the desire to bring her over the edge, to show her what all her other partners should have been giving her this entire time, and another part of you wants to just lap at her pussy with no regards. Hungry for the taste of her juices on your lips, to swirl your tongue around her protruding bud like you’re lazily licking an ice cream cone.

Her hands are in your hair, torn between yanking you off her when you suck harshly on her fat clit, laughing as she whines and whimpers, or pressing your face against her cunt to keep you fixed in one spot when you start to go rogue

“Oh.. Oh god, yes!” She’s a mess, completely gone beneath you when you finally decide to focus on getting her off. She’s soaked, dripping down your hand when you do touch her, and flooding your mouth with her arousal so much that when you grow desperate — yanking her up and throwing her on her hands and knees, eating her out from behind — you can’t stop the way her arousal drips onto the sheets beneath. She’s too damn wet for your mouth to capture all of it and the thought makes you feel feral.

“C’mon, Abs, I wanna feel you cum on my tongue okay? Wanna feel that pretty clit throbbing in my mouth”

You’ve got your hands at the junction where her thighs and her ass meet, spreading the skin so you have the max amount of access as you bring her over the edge, Abby’s neighbours no doubt able to hear her reaching her apex with her wailing. You move one of your hands down as you focus your mouth on her clit, fingers pushing inside of Abby’s warm heat again and sighing against her slick as her hole sucks them in greedily.

It doesn’t take long until Abby goes rigid, screaming and babbling that she’s coming with her head thrown back as you continue your ministrations, working her through her orgasm happily.

“Fuck, you coming from my fingers or my mouth, Abs?” You tease against her pussy as she gushes down your wrist practically, lapping her juices up with your tongue and feeling it drip down your chin. 

Her strong fingers thread through your hair and practically have to rip you off of her once overstimulation sets in, toned thighs twitching, desperate to slam shut and hide her pussy away from you. You let her pull you off, licking your lips with a wicked grin as you hover over her.

She’s redfaced, skin glistening with sweat and she looks completely fucked out. It’s a good look on her.

“What’s the verdict?” You ask with a teasing lilt, watching as she huffs out a laugh with her chest rising and falling rapidly still.

“Uh… Might let you do it again” She tries to play it casual but you swat at her chest lightly and she quickly falls into laughter. “Fine! I loved it, 10/10, I’ll write a damn Yelp review if you want me to”

“Who the hell even uses Yelp anymore, damn how old are you” You tease, caressing her cheek. “Promise me you’ll let me do that more? No more hiding” Your voice is tender as you speak, eyes warm as you look down at her. Abby’s breath catches in her throat at the softness, the love she can feel and she nods up at you. “I promise. No more hiding away.”

[oopsiedaisydeer]

who’s the better detective? ...introducing detective!chris and detective!reader (buttons)

fluff, kinda crack content, mild sexual references/innuendos, why so sexy if so dumb, workplace romance, peraltiago-inspired

word count - 800ish

God, she’s so sick of waiting for Chris to just do something as simple as arrest the guy. She hated working with him, and she couldn't wait for Nate to come back from vacation so Chris could have a different babysitter. 

It wasn’t like he was a bad detective, she just preferred working alone. Not to mention, Chris had unusual methods…

“Hey, Buttons! Can you give me your handcuffs?”

She looked at him, already dumbfounded by the apparent manchild in front of her, who had somehow made use of a deli sandwich to keep the suspect’s hands in place. She placed a hand on her hip as she fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Christopher Sturniolo. Where are your handcuffs?”

He grinned at her, sunglasses dropped low on his nose. “Had a bit of fun last night, Buttons. You don’t mind sharing, do you?”

“I already told you not to call me that, Chris,” she said, reluctantly pulling the cuffs off her belt and handing them to him. “You know,” she continues, “I could write you up for that.”

Chris glances at her then, as he’s busy handcuffing the perp in front of him. Once the double lock clicks in place, he brings a hand up to his chest, in mock, dramatic death. “Oh Buttons,” he says, drawing the pet name out for his own amusement, as he puts on a horrible Victorian accent, “you torture me so”. 

Buttons rolls her eyes then, ushering him forward as she walks behind him, one eyebrow raised just enough for Chris to know to back off. He puts the perp in the back of their squad car, somehow managing to close the door and lean against the car in one infuriatingly charming swoop. 

“It’s a pity that arrest won’t go towards my count,” he says, picking his sunglasses off his nose to rest them on the top of his head, his brown curls still fanning about his forehead effortlessly.

She makes a small scoffing sound. “Oh please, Chris, give me a break. You used my intel to track the guy to this bodega, my handcuffs to make the arrest, and I think we both know it’s going to be my hand with my pen writing the report.” This time she does roll her eyes as she makes her way over to the driver’s side of the car.

“Jeez, Buttons, what got your panties in a twist this morning?” Chris says, chuckling lightly at the reference to her underwear.

She shoots him one more look before getting into her seat behind the wheel. Chris slides in beside her, immediately fiddling with the radio, to which Buttons slaps his hand away. Chris then checks his sleeve, pretending to tap a watch that isn’t there. “Only six months left for you to beat me, Buttons.”

“We’re literally neck and neck, Sturniolo,” she says, pulling the car out of the spot, checking for oncoming traffic by twisting behind her and placing a hand on Chris’s seat, before heading in the direction of the precinct.

“Still, you never know when I’m going to pull ahead. It’s real comfy on top, I hear,” he wiggles his eyebrows at her, before continuing, “Hey! Title of your sextape, Buttons, what do you know.” Chris smiles earnestly at her, practically begging for at least a giggle from her.

All he gets is more sarcasm.

“Real comfy on top? How thrilling. I can’t wait till I take your precious car from you, Sturniolo. See how many sex jokes you can make when I’m driving your so-called “babe magnet”. See who’ll get all the girls…” Buttons trails off into an awkward silence, not quite sure where she was going with that line other than apparent lesbianism.

“That’s when the gay sex jokes will start,” Chris says, smiling fondly at her again, completely matter of fact tone in an attempt to conceal the truth in his gaze. “Besides, we all know I’m going to have the last laugh when you finally go out on that date with me. What should we call our sex tape, Buttons?”

“Eww, Chris.” She shoots him a look of complete and utter disgust, face scrunched up like she just had some Greek yoghurt, which pulls a real laugh out of him, breaking his boyish features free from the smug look originally on his face.

Silence settles between the two, and Buttons almost convinces herself that it isn’t the worst thing in the world to be partnered with Chris. That it’s almost nice to joke around, have some banter with him. That he makes the job more enjoyable. As long as it remained just the odd assignment or two.

The moment is broken when the perp calls out, “Hey, I lowkey ship you guys,” from the back.

“Shut up Derek,” they both say at the same time, glancing at each other before looking away again.

Chris burps in the now very silent vehicle. It smells like deli meat. God, I can’t wait for Nathan Doe to get back from Hawaii, Buttons thinks to herself.

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws ꨄ

a/n: eeek i'm not sure how i feel abt this like am i the least funny person alive why do i keep basing my aus off of sitcoms but wait detective!chris is kinda sexy. anyways hope u enjoy!!!! :)

thanks for reading!!!!!! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated <3

[jigglyjeon]

karmic energy -> jjk (three)

summary: riddled with guilt, you promise your boyfriend you're going to settle his debts once and for all to make up for the chaos you've sprinkled all over his life. so, you take a different approach to jimin because kindness is the antidote to peace, right? well, it seems you might have been a little too kind, and in turn it reveals the truth behind his intentions.

rating: R18+ MATURE, minors please do not interact

pairing: witch!fem reader x himbo!jk

genre(s): established relationship, 80s au, college au, slice of life, smut

word count: 7.6k

warnings/tags: body swap trope, swearing, unrequited love, embarassment, secrets and humiliation if you could call it that lol, more of that internal panic from oc lmao, oc really don't be reaping what she sows, but atleast she's becoming more open about wanting to use her magic!

author's note: this one kinda hit me in the feels a little ngl.

soundtrack: every little thing she does is magic - the police // hold the line - toto // bette davis eyes - kim carnes // goodbye yellow brick road - elton john

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For once, Jin enters the apartment quieter than usual. He doesn’t announce his return, doesn’t call to check if you’re home; he simply strolls in, singing along to Karma Chameleon under his breath with a bag of groceries in hand. That songs been stuck in his head all damn day for some reason. He plops them down onto the kitchen bench with a content sigh, glad that the workday had finally come to an end. It’s only then he decides to check on you.

Naturally, he tries your room first, but the door is wide open and that’s a tell-tale sign that you’re not there, so he continues down the halls until he reaches the altar that you shared for all things witchcraft that used to be this weirdly massive walk-in closet at the back of the apartment.

“Hey snotty, I think I might make pasta–” His entire body freezes in place. “For dinner. Why is he in here?” Jin looks down at your lounging frame, sprawled over the chaise lounge while the person he thinks is your boyfriend sits in front of the cauldron, hunched over your spell book, staring intently at the pages.

“Greetings and salutations to you as well, big brother.” You greet him, but it makes Jin’s face scrunch up in disgust. Why was Jungkook speaking like that, and the fuck why was he calling referring to him as his big brother? Oh, hell no. He was not ready to be a brother-in-law.

Wait.

Were you pregnant?! Is that why he was in here clearly aware of the fact that you were a witch? Oh god, he wasn’t ready to be an uncle, either. Jin’s jaw unhinges, blubbering in confusion as he points between you and Jungkook.

Then his hand falls limp at his side, and his expression flumps into a look of sheer disappointment. “For fucks sakes, Y/N.” He scolds you, the realisation dawning upon him. From the seat Jungkook’s laying in, he’s donning an amused upside-down smile, hands behind his head as he watches your older brother lose his mind.

“Sup, big bro.”

“And that is something we’re not going to do today”.

“You wound me, Seokjin.”

Jin staunches at Jungkook, making the younger one flinch in his seat. You snort at their typical bickering. “Don’t freak out, kay? fI-I had to tell him. It would have been so much harder to fix this if he didn’t know.”

Jin stares intensely at your boyfriend who’s hiding in the body of his little sister. “I’m fucking watching you, kid.”

“I said chill out, you psycho!” You whine, the manly voice paired with your usual whingeing is awkward and Jungkook still isn’t used to it. He really hopes you don’t speak like that in public when he isn’t around; he knows for sure that his teammates will bully his ass all the way into the next semester. “Before you barged in all high and mighty, I found out that this is reversible!”

Jin walks over to you, peaking over your shoulder at the book. You hold it up for him to read. Jin mutters the words on the page under his breath, looking up at you as he’s humming in thought. “Your boyfriend doesn’t even know what empathy means, how is he supposed to practice it?”

“I’m not hard of hearing, you know?”

“It’s okay, you just– just stay there. Be quiet.” Jin waves him off, and Jungkook slouches back in his seat, clicking his tongue and folding his arms with an annoyed huff.  

You roll your eyes at your brother’s fake hatred for your boyfriend. You knew this was Jin’s way of initiating him into his life; test of his patience, gauging out his reactions and his character, if you will. He wouldn’t admit it’s because he’s protective of his little sister, though.

“Target must help the life they’ve stepped into succeed and maintain family and friendly relationships with true intention to be relieved of the spell.” You read out loud for Jungkook to her.

He perks up, looking over at you curiously. “You’re gonna be stuck like this for weeks.” Jin snickers, and you smack the back of his head; your newfound strength causes him to yelp in pain, rubbing at the as if you’ve hit it with a hammer. “Gosh, lighten up buttercup. I’m only joshin’ around.”

“You think I like being a man? You think I like having to lug a seven-inch cock around in my fucking underwear–”

“OKAY! I am going to have to stop you right there, little sister.” Jin pushes his palm into your cheek, screaming. “Just…just oh my fucking god.” He scrubs at his eyes as if it will help erase the image from his head. “It’s going to be fine, we literally just established that the spell is reversible, so long as your boyfriend is as heaven-sent as you claim he is.”

“Of course he is.” You scoff, shaking your head. Jin gives you a look; your words come out far too high, too shaky with nerves for them to sound convincing.

Jungkook looks between the two of you with a smile. That’s his girl, always sticking up for him.

Poor, sweet Jungkook.

“Mhm…then all we need to do is for Jungkook to conduct a genuine act of service.”

“That’s easy then, he does that for me all the time!”

“Because he wants to or because he likes the reward it gets him afterwards?”

You look over at Jungkook, he sends an innocent grin your way. “Babe?”

“I like making you happy.” He shrugs easily, causing you to pout, cooing in adoration. “And I like how always tell me how amazing I am afterward.”

Your smile drops faster than it’s ever fallen. A new record for you, probably.

Jin hides behind his hand, shaking his head.

This was going to be a lot harder than you thought it was going to be.

“Hey, how long is this gonna take again?” He chirps, “I think it’d be great if we could wrap it up by the end of tomorrow, it’ll be a disaster if Y/N has to go to football practise instead of me.”

You whine, huffing in distress as you sink into your seat.

Jin clicks his tongue, dragging you up and off the seat by the shoulder of your flannel. “If you had just listened to me, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.” He groans through his teeth.

“I’m sorry!” You’re limp against his grasp as he drags you out of the room, Jungkook scrambling after the both of you.

The next morning, on the other side of town, Taehyung is burning holes into the tiny book in his hand at the campus library.

He’s spent all the early hours of his day tucked into the back corner, an array of unusual items splayed out on the desk in front of him: a pocket watch, a rabbit’s foot and a few strands of your hair. How did he get that, you ask?

He wouldn’t give you the answer. That was for him to know. And no, it definitely wasn’t while you were taking a nap with Jungkook in the dorm room.

What? He lived there too! He was super quiet, he legit didn’t have to take a step; he teleported into the room and then he just had to bend over and pluck it from Jungkook’s head– okay, it was kinda creepy now that he’s hearing it back in his head, but he said he was going to help, did he not?

What he really wants the answer to is why the hell the witches index is so damn small. He needs a goddamn magnifying glass at this point. Had he purchased a pocket-sized version, and he wasn’t aware of it? If he had, what a fucking rip-off because he had spent, like, fifty bucks on the fucking thing. It’s small enough that it’s held snug between his pinkie and thumb without an uncomfortable cramp forming from the stretch as he utters incoherent words to himself, nothing that can be understood by a mere mortal. He thinks he’s getting somewhere, though.

Jimin strides past the aisle, tilting his head when he sees who he thinks he does. It is, Taehyung, looking rough as ever, hardly changed out of his black silk robe, flannel pyjama pants and a white t-shirt he had been wearing the night before. He had shoes on, at least. “You will be the end of me, Jeon.” He sighs under his breath, scratching the back of his head as he tries to make sense of the items in front of him, how they were going to help him fix the mess you’ve made.

“Taehyung?”

The sound of his name causes him to bang his knees against the desk beneath him, swiping the items off the table and shoving the index beneath him on the seat, sitting on it. “Jimin, hey! Hey.” His large smile is riddled with nerves. “What– what are you doing here?”

“This is the library.” He deadpans, Taehyung blinks, looking at the two bookshelves that wedges him between the narrow aisles. “Is it not?”

How long has he been here? “Right.”

“You look rough.” The blond quips, clutching his books to his chest, straightening his posture.

Taehyung leans back, uncaring of the scrutiny of his stare. “You look cute.” He fires back, a half smirk on his face when he allows his eyes to wander the blond’s appearance.

His hair is slightly wavy; his sweater is a cute blue and white striped pattern that gives him with the sleeves long enough to give him sweater paws. Jimin huffs, rolling his eyes before he walks away. Taehyung chuckles to himself, picking up the discarded things he’d thrown onto the floor. Oh, what he wouldn’t give.

He likes when they play hard to get.

Brushing the thought aside, he pulls the index back out from under him, searching for the page he was studying right before he was so kindly interrupted by sweet, sweet eye candy.

But alas, he’s disrupted again, and this time it’s Tweedledee and Tweedledum barging into the aisle; you’re in Jungkook’s skin looking stressed as fuck, and Jungkook just saunters behind you like nothing’s wrong. An ordinary day.

“How’s it going lovebirds?” He sing-songs, flicking over one more page when he lands on the time manipulation page.

“Was Jimin just talking to you?” Jungkook asks, looking over his shoulder when he pulls out a chair to slump beside you.

“Why? Do you miss him, Kookie-koo?” He teases, raising a brow at his best friend. Jungkook looks at you for support, but you’re glaring at him with anticipation for an answer yourself. “Relax, you two. He didn’t even mention anything about you— either of you.”

“Unusual.” You squint at Taehyung.

“I thought you liked Jimin?”

“Inconclusive.” You mumble, “What are you doing?”

Taehyung lifts a finger, “I’ve spent the entire morning studying this thing I found in the witches index.” Both you and Jungkook lean closer as he continues. “Time manipulation.”

You fall back into your seat with a gruff, and Jungkook looks between you and Jungkook for an explanation.

“Hear me out, kid. We manipulate time, back to when you were stupid enough to make a half-ass spell to spike your boyfriend’s cola with and bada-bing, bada-boom! It never happened.” He dusts of the imaginary dirt on his hands, showing off his newly cleaned palms.

You hum, interested but also cautious. “That is just as risky as what I did, if not riskier.”

“Oh, now you’re so by the books all of a sudden?” Taehyung taunts, tossing the small book onto the table. “Do you want my help or not?” He crosses his arms, glaring at you.

You look at Jungkook, who gives you a small nod. You sigh in defeat. “The spell I cast is reversible if Jungkook reveals his understanding of empathy, though.”

Taehyung snorts. “Empathy of what? The spell didn’t even detect what you were trying to target, therefore that could mean fucking anything, dude. Empathy toward what? It could be anything from learning how to write his own essays to being a better boyfriend. Or maybe paying off the fuck load of cash he owes Park?”

Your head spins at his list off. “Fine! Okay, alright. We’ll try your way. Why does everyone have such little faith in Jungkook?” You whine, looking over at your sweet boyfriend who weaves a pencil between his fingers with a huge grin on his face. The silence causes him to look up.

“What?”

You worry for your boyfriend. At this rate, he’s never going to beat those himbo jock allegations.

You’re so very grateful neither of you have class today, and usually, when neither of you had class, you’re spending time together. Attached at the hip always. It seems that hasn’t changed. He’s on top of you, kissing on your neck, and you melt into the hand he has on your cheek, his thumb sooting over your skin.

“Are you mad at me?” You blurt out, staring intently at the ceiling at the light bulb. Jungkook doesn’t stop sucking soft marks into you, he just hums.

“What do you think?” He mumbles against your throat, scraping his teeth against a sensitive spot. You sigh, sinking into his pillow.

“Well, I don’t know. You’ve been abnormally calm about all of this. You’re not even a little pissed off?” You try again, and Jungkook groans softly, pulling his lips away from you much to his dismay. He rests on his side, propping his head up on a hand, looking down at you.

He huffs an amused breath, smiling briefly. “You know I love you, right?”

Oh no.

You nod; your lip starts to quiver. “Y–yeah…”

“Then I’ll be honest: I’m like, crazy mad.” He tosses his head side-to-side, nodding in confirmation. “Royally pissed off, even.”

“Oh.” Your words get caught in your throat; your eyes begin to sting. You roll over, facing away from him but he laughs, grabbing your arm and pinning you back down against the mattress. “I’m sorry, Jungkook.” You croak.

“That you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.” He clarifies, “We tell each other everything, baby.”

You sniffle. “I know, I just…” You inhale, breathing out heavily to control your emotions. You wipe at your cheeks. “I hate it. I hate that I’m…like this.” You hover your hands over your body, emphasising your point to him. “I never wanted to be a witch. I just wanted to be the girl that was happy and so in love with her boyfriend that didn’t get caught up in all of, well, this. I wanted to protect you from all of this. I’m stupid, okay! I got cocky and thought the spell would be quick and easy and harmless and plus, Jin’s always telling me I need to practice more–”

“Y/N,” He chuckles, cupping your face, tilting it toward him. “Breathe, baby. It’s okay. Gosh, I hate making you cry.” He kisses your lips.

“I made myself cry.” You correct, chasing his lips again. He wipes at the quiet tears that fall across your cheeks with his thumbs, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I’m an idiot.”

“Nah, you’re bad-ass, babe.” He pulls your face into his chest, letting you hide. “Besides, I’m meant to be the stupid one in this relationship. It can’t be both of us.” He jokes.

You pull your face out of his breasts, scowling up at him. “You’re not stupid, Jungkook. I wish you would stop thinking that.”

Jungkook shrugs. “Why else would I need Jimin to all the hard stuff for me?” He says it as if it’s no big deal, but the fact that he believes this makes your heart feel heavy.

“You know you can do it, right?” You tell him, “Stop believing what he says, what everyone says! Babe, I can help you. You’re smarter than you think, and your talent outweighs any poorly written essay, or under-researched report. I believe that you can do anything.”

Jungkook looks at you, chewing on his lip as his eyes scan your serious expression. You sit up, placing a comforting hand to his thigh. “Just try, Koo. I’ll help you. Screw Jimin; I can settle your stupid debt business! I’m very persuasive.”

“Yeah, you are.” He teases, leaning forward to kiss you again. “You’d do that for me?”

“Well, I’m in your body; if I’m going to make it up to you this is the best way to do it, right? Plus, I’d do anything for you, Koo.” You smile at him. He scrunches his nose, throwing his weight at you in a bone crushing hug.

“Shit, I’m stronger than I look.” You wheeze, patting at his back to get him to loosen his hold on you.

“Awh, I just love it when you two kiss and make up!”

You gasp, hand flying to your chest. “When the hell did you get here?” You scold him, your heart thrumming through your ears.

“Like, a second ago.”

“Ohhhh.” Jungkook nods slowly in realisation, pointing at his best friend and roommate. “That’s why you always come out of nowhere. You really have been teleporting this whole time.”

Taehyung nods back, mimicking Jungkook’s reaction.

Like you said, abnormally calm.

And honestly? You’re a little envious. You didn’t know how to teleport. Then again, you’ve never allowed yourself to even attempt to learn.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it…I need to find Jimin. Where does he usually hang around?” You bounce off the bed, shuffling toward the door.

“Oh, so you’re gonna talk to him like… right now?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

“Okay...” His bottom lip disappears behind his teeth. “Check the library then. I guess.” Jungkook blows raspberries, slumping back into his pillows. “He’s always there.”

“Can confirm.” Taehyung nods, staring into the distance, seemingly distracted by his thoughts. When he looks at you by the door, where your hand is still gripping the door handle. “Oh, lay off Y/N. You’re living in your boyfriend’s body because you fucked up one of the simplest spells— your judgement privileges have literally been revoked.”

With a final roll of your eyes, you open the door and close it behind you a little bit louder than necessary.

“What’s up her cooch?” Taehyung points his thumb over his shoulder toward the door, giving Jungkook a quizzical look.

“I’m can still hear you, you moron!” You shout from behind it, grunting before you stomp off begrudgingly.

The true weight of your boyfriend’s situation makes you nervous. You eventually made it to the library unscathed – even if you did turn back toward his dorm a couple of times during the short trip – but since you were given the time to think about what you’re going to say, or how you’re going to approach him without make it obvious that you’re not actually Jungkook, it was only a matter of time before the whole thing intimidated you.

You look like a fucking psycho muttering under your breath like you’re practicing your lines for a damn play, and as you walk through the library, you earn a few glares, and one girl even has the nerve to hush you. You open your mouth to argue with her, but you realise you are in a library and they’re actually notorious for being quiet.

It doesn’t take long for you to find the blond; he’s sitting at an open table with another person who’s studying just an intently as him. For some reason the sight of him makes you scowl, but you saunter over to him with swagger in your step. Maybe it’s a little overkill. You’re glad he doesn’t see your approaching, you can already picture the way he would have gawked at you, and not in a good way.

You pull up the chair beside him, turning it around to sit on it backwards the way Jungkook usually does. You look awkward doing it, naturally.

Jimin hasn’t even looked up at you yet. His head is buried in his notebook, his hand moving fast as he scribbles word after words into the lined pages. There’s a slight furrow in his brow.

You clear your throat.

He takes his damn time giving you his attention, as well. Oh my god. Could he be any snarkier? You flash him a friendly closed-lip smile, your fingers gripping the back of the chair in a very non masculine way. It takes a bit of self-control not to start rocking back and forth.

“Hey.” He greets you first, “I’ve been looking for you, actually.” He closes his book, giving you his full attention. Oh, but you only wanted half of it; you feel like you’re being held at gun point now that his body is facing you, crossing his leg over his knee delicately.

“You have?”

Jimin nods once. “Your girlfriend.” He starts, tapping a finger on the table in thought. “She hates me, right? She wants me to stop.”

“Stop what?” You play dumb, but your stoic expression gives away that you know exactly what he’s referring to.

“You need my help; you’ve always needed my help. You turned me down for that essay. Why?”

Was it hot in here? Oh my god your pits are starting to sweat. It was nasty, and it was telling. Did he know? What if he knew that you weren’t actually Jungkook? What if he knew your secret? Shit. You swallow a lump in your throat. “Well…” You start.

“Yes?”

“I just don’t think I need your help anymore.” You shrug.

“Bullshit, Jeon.” He scoffs quietly. “This is us. This is what we do. You ruffle my feathers, I help you anyway, I add more precious coin to that impending payment you owe me; I’m expecting by graduation by the way–”

“I actually want to talk to you about that.”

“No, you don’t.” He laughs, his shoulders shake along with him, holding his stomach as if it’s the funniest joke that you, or rather Jungkook, has ever told. You realise that he’s mocking you.

Your eye twitches, but you bulldoze right into it, you were going to settle this once and for all. It was the least you could do; lately you feel like you’ve been doing more harm than good, and it’s squandered you clean track record. Your patient is running thin, and you grow impatient much easier these days. You chalk it up to the stress of it all for now. Nothing can shake the guilt you feel for messing with Jungkook’s life in such a way. You had to do something to make it up for him.

“What can I do to make it up to you, Jimin?” You sigh, shoulder slumping. Your eyes shine as an innocent glower of defeat comes over your pouty features. “I don’t have that kind of money, who knows when I will?”

Jimin shrugs, clicking his tongue. “Should’ve thought that through five years ago.” Okay, he wasn’t going to let up easy. You can respect that.

“Look, I’m really sorry. Okay? I shouldn’t have used you like this. It wasn’t fair, and I know that.”

For a moment, you put yourself into the shoes of, well, whatever this was. Jungkook wasn’t an overthinker, and while he had never been ill-hearted, he wasn’t impartial to making poor decisions and not exactly thinking about other people before he really did something. If you were Jimin, maybe you would be a bit of a bitch, too.

Maybe you wouldn’t feel appreciated.

“It wasn’t cool. I know, I’m sorry. So, what can I do to end this for good?”

Jimin looks down, chewing on his bottom lip. Where was this coming from? Jungkook was not the emotional or heart-felt type. He was bearing his feelings and treating this seriously in a way he never has before. Usually, Jungkook laughed everything off, he teased and poked fun at Jimin for being introverted and a little bit mean, so he retaliated in the best way he knew how, in practical jokes the border the line of bullying and verbal harassment.

In all honesty, the blond one didn’t mind it so long as it meant he got to spend time with him.

Terrible. He knows that— especially when he was now taken, and so obviously happy with the pretty girl he had met in his freshman year of college. He admits his attitude had grown cattier once he had to watch it from the sidelines.

He has to admit that you weren’t at all what he expected to be Jungkook’s type. The girls he went for in high school? They were either a cheerleader, an athlete, borderline brain dead; one might argue that he’s grown up, that things have changed, but was he really all that different? Jungkook was always such a cool-headed, well-liked and talented person. He just wasn’t book smart; that didn’t mean he wasn’t good at literally everything else. It was insufferable almost. Him being into someone like you was just…different for him.

You were pretty much the personification of perfection; you were smart, polite, and beautiful which was no wonder you had managed to win Jungkook’s heart. Not only that, but you also pulled off getting him to have to practically beg on his knees to give him a chance, to have to fight for the right to be yours. You had a strong head on your shoulders; you were smart and worst of all you were nice.

If there were any negatives to say at all, it would be that you hadn’t had an athletic bone in your bod. You weren’t sporting the bright neon colours and scrunchies to pull back a teased over perm. You went to his games to support him, but you were usually distracted by the hot dogs and free lemonade.

Sometimes you even brought a nail file and were buffing away at your nails, shaping them into a sharp, elongated shape that reminded him of a cat.

Your clothes were black, white or some sort of variation of the shades more often than not; your hair flowed naturally, unteased and healthy from the lack of heat you applied to it, and your makeup wasn’t bold or flashy if you wore any at all. Jimin didn’t need to know that was purely because you were too lazy, he should have seen you in junior year of high school…but that wasn’t the point. Honestly, you didn’t need any— it wasn’t really your pretty face that made you so likeable in the first place.

For the majority of his life, Jimin had sat on the sidelines. He was quiet, had a short temper and had parents that hounded him to get the best grade he could possibly get. Strict parents, strict rules— he liked to take it out on those around him. It was why he didn’t have that many friends, but he thought he was better off anyway. He only needs a good one or two to avoid becoming completely socially inept. He would pick apart people out of pure, sheer boredom, picking apart the complexities of human nature as a pass time when studying was growing to become kind of a drag. Yes, sometimes he didn’t want to study either— he really wasn’t obsessed with school in the way everyone thought he was.

What he had ended up gathering from you in particular, was that life was never a competition for you. You were never afraid of not being the most popular, having the fittest body or becoming the best at what you do; you existed easily and comfortably, and you’ve always been okay with blending in with the rest of the crowd. You were never above, never below, just…existing without worrying so much about where you fit. Apparently, you were also kind of a dork; Jungkook had mentioned in passing that you liked to go to these strange medieval fantasy events? That was not an activity he saw Jungkook doing. Taehyung? Sure, he could see that. But not Jungkook.

Jimin never thought he was going to see the day that Jeon Jungkook was going to fall so deeply in love with a girl like you. So, what was your deal? What kind of fucking magic do you have in your pussy that has Jungkook so drunk in love?

He can’t figure it out, but what he is certain of is that he holds a slight grudge against you for managing to steal Jungkook away from him. For a good moment in time, there was no you. There was no woman capable of catching Jungkook’s attention for longer than a few weeks, and he had the spare time to annoy him and beg him for his help. Jimin was always good at pretending that he hated it, that it was a nuisance – sometimes it was, and sometimes it stressed him out since it did double his workload – but he could never resist those big brown eyes and the ever growing smirk on his lips that gave him butterflies.

Jungkook was just too fucking handsome to say no to.  

While he knows him and Jungkook could never be, that it was merely a fantasy that he fed within the safety of his dreams, he can’t help but still pray on the downfall of whatever spell you’ve casted on him. Even though he knew that he could only ever feel anything for Jungkook from afar, he would still be selfish enough to use whatever excuse he could to get him to talk to him, let alone look at him and smile. This entire arrangement? The perfect excuse for Jungkook to need him.

There was no other reason that him and Jungkook would be sitting here together right now, alone, spending time with one another.

“You’re sorry?” He doesn’t really believe what he’s hearing right now.

“I’m sorry.” You nod; the look you’re giving him is sincere, and it throws Jimin for a loop. You lean toward him, propping your arms on the table in front of you as you wait for his answer. You blink at him, and he can’t help but think that Jungkook looks so soft right now, just a man who was sorry and looking up at him with those glittery chocolate coloured iris’ that made his heart swell.

Jimin’s eyes dart down to the rings on your finger, you’re twisting on them nervously, hoping that your approach was going to break at the walls of his character: kill or be killed.

He looks up at you, and you hold his stare, rubbing your lips together as you watch brown eyes soften into something you haven’t seen in them before. They flicker down to the movement in your lips. Before you can register it, he leans forward, his eyes closing slowly. His lips barely brush yours.

Your reflexes are just a little bit quicker, and you pull your head back just enough to create distance. Your body reacts solely to the fact that these lips that aren’t Jungkook’s. You gasp quietly, covering your lips with the back of your hand as you avert your gaze from him.

“I– no. Sorry, I’m–fuck. I’m gonna go.” Jimin gathers his things and messily shoves them into his bag, uncaring on the mess of it all.

You can’t control the mortification laced in your features. Your lips are parted, closing and opening like a fish out of water. You can barely piece together a coherent word as you watch him rush to leave.

“It’s fine, I forgive you. Okay? You win! No more. Forget about the stupid money, I never wanted it anyway.” He admits. “Just…don’t tell anyone about this.” His brows are lowered, and his features are hard, with a slight sheen that settles over his brown eyes. “Please.” He pleads.

“I– I won’t, but wait–” Before you can say anymore, he storms off, running out of the library, eager to get as far away from you as possible.

As far away from Jungkook as possible.

Some might have basked in the glory of being right, enjoyed the moment they got to say, ‘I told you so’, but not you. You’d never actually truly felt that way, now more than ever. All you feel is heavy-hearted and terrible for him. Guilt plagues you when you realise you’ve begun to feel negatively toward him; he was a boy, with feelings and a broken heart. You weren’t happy about it, to say the least, but you can’t help but feel poorly for his situation; being part of the reason why only weighed on you more.

Why do you only feel worse than before? Suddenly you wish you were wrong, that your intuition wasn’t right on the nose. Jimin had been pining over with him long before you came along. Even though it wasn’t your burden to bear, not your fault that Jungkook had chosen you and not him, you can’t help but feel as if you had stolen something from him. You felt like you took away that last bit of hope that Jimin had clung to, but it was futile.

You don’t realise how long you linger at the table, coming to terms with your reality— Jimin just tried to kiss your boyfriend.

When you break out of the haze the moment had set you in, you meet the eyes of the girl on the other side of the table. She’s glaring at you. “What’s your damage?”

“You should have let him kiss you.” She finally speaks after you swap glances, shaking her head in disapproval.

“Ugh.” You grumble, standing up and shoving the seat back underneath the desk, leaving the eavesdropper on her own.

You don’t know whether this was something to tell your boyfriend or not. How would he take being almost kissed by Jimin? Would he be mad about the fact he was actually kissing you? Probably. But technically, he was trying to kiss him? You don’t think Jimin would likely touch you with a ten-foot pole even if he absolutely had to.

This was admittedly a lot to carry, though; you had to tell somebody.

“Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw.”

Sitting on the couch in front of the television, throwing microwaved popcorn into his mouth was your brother who had only reacted in true Seokjin fashion. It takes a moment before he peels his eyes off the screen to look at you. He chuckles as your confession really computes. “That’s kinda fucked up, sis.”

Your arms are folded over your chest, popping out your hip in tangent with your bottom lip. You groan, throwing your arms at your side in defeat, throwing your head back. “I don’t know what to do.” You drag out in a whine.

“Good news is that the debt is settled right? And you probably don’t have to worry about a pretty little blond boy trying to steal your man anymore.” Jin shrugs, tossing a piece of popcorn in the air and attempting to catch it but it bounces off his chin and somewhere onto the floor. You glare at him, knowing you’re going to have to pick up stray pieces of popcorn off the living room floor later. Rat.

“I guess…” you drone. “You don’t think I should tell Jungkook?”

“He’s a jock, he’ll probably recoil in disgust if he knew another dude tried to kiss him.”

“Jungkook isn’t like that, Jin.” You argue. “His best friend is queer!”

“There you go, then!” Jin tosses his arms up as if he had just invented the prospect world peace. “Set Taehyung up with Jimin. You and Jungkook can do kissy kissy without a little gay boy hovering over your shoulders, Taehyung gets some, cures Jimin’s broken heart and voila— everyone’s happy!”

“It doesn’t just work like that, Jin.” You complain, slumping onto the couch beside him. “Also, you don’t know if he’s gay, you can’t just assume that because–”

Jin doesn’t just roll his eyes, he rolls his entire head, letting it drop dramatically when he faces you to give a look. You frown.

“Why don’t you go have dinner with your boyfriend tonight? He seems to know how to make you feel better.” He suggests, offering you a tight smile. “You know I’ve never been good at doing that.”

“That’s not true.” You roll your eyes, bumping your shoulder into his. “Brothers are just different than boyfriends, that’s all.”

“Gross, I sure fucking hope so.” He scrunches his features in disgust. You fly onto your feet and toward the door. “Yeah, get out of here, you freakazoid.”

“Clean up the popcorn off the floor you bloody insect!” You open the door, turning to bite back at him.

“Blah, blah blah. Yap, yap, yap–”

You shuffle backward, poking your tongue out at him, flipping him the bird through the crack of the door before you leave.

Knocking thrice apparently isn’t enough to break your boyfriend and his equally disgustingly invested best friend out of the trance the box set has put them in. When you let yourself in, you hear just enough of the airy, overexaggerated moans that sound from the television. Jungkook springs off of the floor, frantically sliding his arms all over the carpet in search of the remote, it slips out of his grip and into Taehyung’s lap who quickly taps on the red button to turn the tape off.

“Baby, babe.”  He chirps upon your entrance and stands up, sauntering toward you with open arms. He pulls you pushes down on your shoulders to get you to lower your head, peppering kisses all over your face. You end up scowling at Taehyung whose caught in the crossfire of your narrowed stare.  

“Were you two just watching a nudie movie?”

“Huh? Nah, no! Absolutely not. Why would you even say that! That’s totally creepy, and weird–”

“Bro’s who watch porn together, stay together.” Taehyung purses his lips, nodding slowly. His legs are crossed, and his back is straight. “I don’t know what to tell ya.”

“Alright, Mr Miyagi.” You snort, finally pressing your lips against Jungkook’s who’s been waiting for you to give him attention. He hums happily when you kiss him, and he’s so glad he doesn’t have the evidence in his pants of the aftereffects of what he’d just watched on the television screen. You’d probably be a lot madder with him if his dick was poking against your leg right now.

“How did it go?” Taehyung quickly changes the subject, and you sigh, moving past your boyfriend and face planting in his sheets.

“Good.” You say, voice muffled by the comforter.

“Really? Shit, like, good as in…you did it? You called off the debt?” Jungkook beams, tossing himself on his back beside you.

“Mhm…” You whine, your wavering hum and raising pitch is the only sign that something wasn’t right. Taehyung drags his ass against the carpet toward the edge of the bed.

“Really? Holy shit babe, that’s fucking awesome!” He cheers, throwing himself onto your back, you grunt from his weight, but you stay unmoving and hiding your face. You want to sink deeper into the mattress, if possible, like Johnny Depp’s character in Nightmare on Elm Street, only you don’t die from it. There’s no monsters. Obviously. “God, I love you— you really are magical.” He sighs, nuzzling his face into the back of your neck.

“Love you too!” You laugh nervously, actually, you’re not sure if that’s laughter or the beginnings of a nervous breakdown.

“What’s with the moping, then?” Taehyung asks, catching onto your strange behaviour. Instead of celebrating with them, you look like you’re about to start violently shaking before emotionally combusting.

You go to speak but you think your voice might crack and you actually might cry. You don’t want to tell them what happened, not yet anyway. You don’t want to make things awkward! Oh, this was just a disaster.

“M’not.” You mumble.

Jungkook lifts his head, look down at you. “You kinda are, baby.” He shakes your shoulder. “What’s the matter, hm?”

You take your time collecting yourself, working hard to not give anything too drastic away in your face when you turn your head slightly, blinking at Taehyung who looks at you with a raised brow. You peak over your shoulder at your boyfriend who’s rubbing circles in your back with an encouraging smile.

“I just miss being me.”

It wasn’t technically a lie, and it was foolproof. You just…weren’t telling him yet! You weren’t keeping anymore secrets from Jungkook. You were simply delaying the reveal of occurrences at the library to him. You were most definitely positively absolutely going to tell him. You had to; it wasn’t just something you don’t tell him. He was going to find out himself if you didn’t, but you swear you’re going to be the one to tell him. You swear! Who are you promising, though? Him or yourself? You don’t even know at this point.

Jungkook whines, rag-dolling his body on top of you again. “Me too…” He pouts into your shoulder.

“You’re not a feather just because you’re a girl Jungkook.” You wheeze.

“Damn, talk about back handed self-deprecation.” Taehyung snorts.

“How’s your stupid time turning spell coming along again?” Your rebuttal is quick, but you grunt when Jungkook’s weight feels heavier on your back when you feel his body relax. You almost forget how comfortable it was to sleep on him like that.

“I gave up on that ages ago.”

“Weren’t you just studying it? Like, today?”

“Yeah… I realised you were probably right. I could fuck up a lot of people’s realities if I turn back time, it’s already been a few days too long to not do any damage.”

You can’t even pretend you’re not a little disappointed.

“Y/N, why don’t you just relax? Jungkook’s having a good time.” He shoves his hand in the direction of your boyfriend who has long checked out of the conversation. You think he might even be asleep. “I happen to like him better when he’s a chick anyway.”

“Thas m’rude.”

“I’m glad someone’s having fun.” You deadpan. “What am I going to do when I have to play football?”

“Oh, right. That’s tomorrow night.”

You groan, deflating beneath Jungkook. You kick your legs in tantrum against the bed.

Jungkook’s chuckle vibrates into your back through your shirt. “You’ll be alright, Y/N. I’ll come and cheer you on.”

“That’s not funny! What if I die?”

“I think you’re being a little bit dramatic, princess.” Taehyung teases. “Are you forgetting about a very crucial part of who you are and what you’re capable of?”

You blink at him, letting his words sink in. Admittedly, it takes a while for you to catch on. He twirls his finger and nods when you lift your head. “You think I should use magic?”

Taehyung shrugs, with a growing smirk. “If there’s one thing witches are good at, it’s our ability to cheat our way through difficult situations.”

While you know he’s right, you didn’t know much about that personally. You have been steering clear of magic for as long as you can remember. You’ve learnt that it wasn’t beneath you, especially when the thought of cheating your way through having to play football – your biggest nightmare by the way – lifts the weight of a boulder off of your shoulders.

“Boo.” Jungkook mumbles jokingly.

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“You do know that essay is due in two weeks, right? You need to pick a topic from the assessment sheet.”

Oh. Right. Now that he didn’t have a personal cheat code through university, he was going to actually have to try. That was fine, it was fine! It was just the one class he was struggling with, right? It can’t be so bad. Why does his chest feel so tight, then? He sits up, looking down at you with that unintentional pout on his lips. It’s a little bit cringy when it’s your face you’re looking at, not as cute as you think it is when it’s him that does it. “Babe?”

“Mhm?”

“Will you help me?” He asks quietly.

“You know I will, Koo.” You flip yourself over, sitting up to face him so that you can kiss the worried look off his face. “Always, for anything, whenever.” You reassure him, and just as you suspect, his glum features are replaced with a look of relief.

Taehyung takes a sharp breath, lifting his hand above his head. “Can I suggest something?”

Jungkook’s forehead falls to rest against your shoulder. “No.”

“Going to anyway– why don’t you guys go be fucking disgusting at Y/N’s apartment? This dorm is cramped, it’s dusty and there’s a porn stash under Jungkook’s bed–”

You squint at Jungkook, silently asking him to explain what Taehyung is referring to, but Jungkook just clicks his tongue, chuckling like a hyena as he nervously waves off his best friend who feigns innocence. “You know what, you’re right. We should spend time at your house. I know you’re a witch now, so you have nothing to hide. Why don’t we go now!”

“Right. Yeah, Nothing.” You sigh, but he doesn’t pay it much mind, far too mortified by being outed for his pass times like that in front of his girlfriend. Taehyung tilts his head but doesn’t say anything more.

Jungkook takes your wrist and drags you toward the door, falling face first into Taehyung’s trap of allowing him to have the dorm room to himself. He salutes you when you look back to wave him goodbye.

taglist: @mirinaeii, @soju4shi, @internetbelle

©jigglyjeon 2025 all rights reserved

[malleleothreesome]

Stage Sex - Fellow Honest x Fem Reader (Part One)

🌟 summary: Fellow convinces you to become his latest star, taking your virginity shibari style in front of a live audience. ༶༶༶ 🌟 warnings: afab fem reader. Porn with plot – if the plot is him convincing you to partake in the porn. I didn't write this with the intent of it being dubcon (in my mind, reader is a willing participant, and I never describe her as otherwise), but please err on the side of caution if you're sensitive to that. It's starring Fellow Honest, after all – he comes prepackaged with manipulation skills. He does use a bit of his UM after reader already consents, and I refer to his magic as hypnosis, playing into the fact that you're obedient to him and he can use you as he pleases. There is a MAJOR VOYEURISM theme to this. He calls you names like "good girl", "slut" and "whore". In part 1 he helps bring you to clitoral orgasm for the first time while he jerks himself off. Also a few lines of cunnilingus and some fingering. Shibari bondage starts in part 2, additional warnings will be listed there. Please let me know in the comments if I missed a warning or tag idk I haven't written something of this caliber before. ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 7.2k words because I'm DERANGED ༶༶༶ 🌟 song: Carousel - Melanie Martinez "And it's all fun and games... 'til somebody falls in love"

Fellow Honest’s tail swung back and forth. He had certainly done his research, and all of that hard work would finally pay off. He watched as you entered the theme park, skulking in the shadows behind the rest of the students. You struck him as an outcast—no friends, no family. A beautiful girl from another world, with a figure that would make even the Gods themselves lust after. The only magicless human girl at the all boy’s magic college. Nothing to lose. How perfect.

“Hello, Miss…?” Fellow’s eyebrow raises as he tilts his head, leaning towards you on his cane. His calculated, fox-like eyes drink in every inch of you. Extending his right arm out to you, he welcomes your hand into his.

“Y/N,” you answer, a bit startled at his overt friendliness. Yet, you allow his white satin glove to grasp firmly around your hand. 

“What a lovely name for such a breathtaking woman.” He bows forward to kiss your hand, maintaining fierce eye contact. In one swift motion, he turns toward his amusement park, wipes his mouth clean of your touch, and proudly waves his arm in the air to show off his property. 

“Miss Y/N! Welcome to Playfulland!” he boasts. He turns back toward you, weaseling his way deeper into your personal space. “It is an incredibly rare occasion to welcome someone as beautiful as you into my humble little park.”

You dismiss his praise with a flick of your palm and a shake of your head, desperately hoping not to blush. “Oh, no need to be so modest, dear. A shape like yours could make any man fall in love. I doubt the students at the college are the only ones that appreciate it.” A sly smile is plastered on his face while his eyes continue to look you up and down with intention. Your mind runs wild as you try not to absolutely melt into his praise. “Are you sure you’re not a talking doll? It’s a marvel that a woman so flawless could exist.”

You smile softly and look to the ground, cheeks burning. You tuck a strand of hair awkwardly behind your ear, stalling for composure. How are you supposed to respond to a handsome, magnetic stranger saying all the right things? Not a single soul has spoken so highly of you since you found yourself trapped in this world, forced to attend Night Raven College. Your growing ego leaves you no choice but to soak it all in.

“Tell me, Miss Y/N. Have you ever thought about becoming a performer?” He doesn’t pause to let you answer. “Why waste your valuable early 20’s by studying and attending lectures and surrounding yourself with pathetic boys? Women as blessed as you are don’t need a degree. Surely a wealthy man can care for you far beyond a measly degree. And while you wait for him, why not fill your days with fame, riches, and adoration from performing on my stage?”

You stand in a stunned silence. This guy isn’t holding anything back, is he? Charm and charisma ooze from each syllable, making your heart race. It feels a little wrong, basking in the praise of a stranger like this. But you feel beyond lonely and underappreciated at NRC. You long to feel wanted and cared about. Why not give this attractive, complimentary man a chance?

Before you know it, the fox beastman's arms are wrapped around your torso, pulling you closer to him. "Oh, how rude I am!" he exclaims. "I haven't even given you my name."

"Allow me to properly introduce myself." With a quick spin of his heels, he steps back and bows, taking your hand once again. "The name's Fellow Honest, owner of Playfulland." He lifts his head, keeping his eyes locked on yours. "But please, you're welcome to call me whatever you'd like." He winks.

You could have sworn you felt a physical spark. Suddenly lightheaded, you pull your hand from his grasp, heart pounding in your chest. You can't take your eyes off him. You can't tell if your nervous system is trying to tell you to run towards or away from him. The longer you stare into his fire-orange eyes, the weaker your knees feel. He’s so close you can feel the heat emanating off of his body—is his perfume made of magic? 

Something inside of you urges you to step away and re-evaluate. "Uh... I should probably get back to my friends," you stammer, trying to get your legs to move. "I'm sure they're wondering where I went. Thank you for the, uh, offer, though. I’ll think about it."

Fellow's arm is suddenly around your waist yet again, his fingers pressed firmly against your lower back as he pulls you close. Your eyes widen and your breathing hitches as you make contact with his chest. You feel his lips brush against your ear, and he whispers, "I have to insist, my dear. My employees are quite skilled, but you'd be the best thing that has graced my stage in years. It would be an honor to have someone of your caliber work for me."

His proximity. His hot breath on your ear. His possessive touch digging into the soft skin of your back. You feel a familiar flutter deep in between your thighs—you like this. You want to protest, to push him away, but the electricity between you is hypnotizing. His aroma—sweet wine and fresh roses—only adds to the spell, drowning out all logic and giving way to your body’s desperate pleas to take the lead.

"I have an office inside the theater where we can discuss this further, if you'd like," he purrs, and you can feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin. "And please, take all the time you need. You're welcome to stay the night. We have luxurious rooms available—a small taste of the lifestyle you’d have if you make the right choice. I'll have someone escort you back to campus if you change your mind."

Your eyes dart around, desperately looking for a familiar face—a way out. Where the Hell did Ace go?! What about Leona or Trey–surely your upperclassmen should have stuck around to make sure the only magically defenseless student isn’t being taken advantage of by any sexy, suspicious strangers. Not to mention the fact that you’re the only girl at school. Chivalry must be extinct in Twisted Wonderland. You feel your heart drop: maybe they never cared about you at all.

Fellow's tail flicks in excitement as he watches your expression. Your eyes are wide and panicked, and he can sense your desperation. He smothers his own smile as your body language slowly indicates defeat. How utterly effortless! He has you right where he wants you. You're his to play with, and no one is there to stop him.

"Come now, dear, it won't hurt to indulge a little," Fellow coos sweetly. Your brain short circuits, blocking all thoughts unrelated to the electrifying feeling of his slender fingers dancing along your waistline. "You're already here! Why not stay and have some fun?" His lips find their way to your neck and you let out a soft gasp as a pulsing warmth radiates from your cunt.

"Fine," you finally whisper.

Fellow chuckles victoriously against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. "I knew you’d be such a good girl." He spins you around, the sexual tension forcibly dissipating as he rips you from your lascivious thoughts and begins walking you down the cobblestone path. His hand rests on the small of your back, and his cane taps merrily against the concrete as you go. Your mind is still reeling from the shocking exchange, and you can barely match his pace as he escorts you to the grand theater. 

You stifle a blush as you hear park goers whisper amongst themselves, eyes glued on you, mouths falling open. "Who is that? Is she a celebrity?”

“She looks like a supermodel,” a woman chimes in, her tone covetous. 

Fellow would never waste an opportunity for free advertisement. He turns his head toward the group as you both keep walking. “Stick around ‘til after dark and you might just see this beauty show it all off on my grand stage!” He shouts, waving his cane in the air. 

The two of you enter the theater and Fellow wastes no time leading you up the stairs toward a private hallway. His hand never leaves your waist. You pass several doors before reaching a pair of large, heavy wooden doors, which Fellow opens with ease.

You can't help but gawk at the size of his office. A massive, ornate wooden desk sits in the middle of the room, flanked by shelves lined with books and trinkets. There's a fireplace and two plush leather couches, as well as a small bar in the corner of the room.

"Please, make yourself at home," Fellow says as he closes the door behind him. He makes his way over to the bar, grabbing a bottle of wine with two glasses. You perch on one of the leather couches and he joins you, placing the wine and glasses on the table in front of you. As you inspect his office, you can't help but feel drawn to a mannequin adorned with a gorgeous bejeweled brassiere and matching pants—if there’s enough coverage to even call them that. Your faces heat up, and you quickly turn away.

"Beautiful, isn't it? One of my favorites," Fellow says, following your gaze. "Unfortunately, no one has had the pleasure of modeling it just yet." He furrows his brows in disappointment. He pops the cork on the wine bottle and begins to pour. "Maybe tonight will be the night. How lucky for me that I have the perfect model."

Something is starting to feel very exciting about all of this. You’ve never had an opportunity to wear such a costume. After being enrolled in Night Raven College only because Crowley didn't know what else to do with you, being here is starting to feel quite freeing. And the way Fellow looks at you… you’ve never felt more attractive. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, gifting you the courage and desire to be exactly who he believes you to be.

"Would you like to try it on?"

The question catches you off guard. He's now looking smugly at you. Your cheeks flush red, but you hold eye contact.

"Wh-what?"

"The outfit, Darling," Fellow says, nodding his head toward the mannequin. "You can try it on if you'd like." You take a long sip of red wine, savoring the smooth fruitiness. It immediately goes to your head, and you can't help but down the rest of it.

"Come now, Love," Fellow says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "We both know what you want."

You stare at the outfit and then back at him. Your whole body feels like it's on fire. This is a bad idea, right? Or is it?

"Okay," you say, almost surprising yourself.

Fellow claps his hands together in delight. "Wonderful! Don't worry, I'm a gentleman—I'll look away while you get changed."

You make your way over to the mannequin, wobbling a bit from the alcohol. The bra is a dark purple while the jewels are varying shades of blue, making the whole outfit glitter like the night sky. The "pants" are a matching, dark purple lace thong, with ribbon and jewel embellishments. There is a sparkling, sheer miniskirt attached, more of an accentuation than actual coverage. You reach out to touch the fabric, marveling at how silky it feels. It's so sexy. Imagining yourself wearing it on stage in front of thousands of people, with everyone staring at you, craving you, makes you a bit wet with excitement. Maybe you do want this.

You look at Fellow one more time to ensure he’s not peeping.

Reader, take note that Fellow is, in fact, peeping—through his pocket mirror that he is blocking with his body. He’s far too good at this. 

Feeling secure, you unbutton your uniform blazer, letting it slide off your shoulders and onto the floor. You undo the buttons of your shirt next, slowly exposing your bare chest. 

Fellow bites his lip as he stares into the mirror, watching in awe as you undress. Your body is even more incredible than he could have imagined. 

You slip off your shorts and underwear next, leaving you completely naked except for your bra. Your hands fumble a bit as you unhook the costume, letting it fall to the floor. 

Fellow feels his pants tighten. 

You can feel yourself getting more aroused, the excitement of being naked in a room with a stranger—soon to show off a revealing costume—starts to go to your head. You grab the brassiere off the mannequin, throwing your arms through the loops, eager to see if you look as good in it as you hope you will. 

Fellow takes his sweet time watching in the pocket mirror. He grins, pleased with your inexperience, watching carefully so that he can see every inch of your struggle, savoring in it. “Oh, how easy this is,” he thinks.

After finally finding the right combination of hooks and clasps, you manage to get the brassiere fastened. You gasp softly, feeling the cool jewels press against your nipples through sheer fabric. You can't help but feel like it was made specially for you. The way it pulls your boobs together to create perfect, plump cleavage gives you actual pride. You shimmy the panties on next, loving the way the lacy fabric rubs against your clit as you pull the thong taut against your hips—a tingling reminder that your body is desperate for any sort of friction that may be interpreted as pleasure. You give your ass a little shake as you put on the skirt, reveling in how good the material feels as it brushes against your bare skin. Engrossed in your own experience, you’re completely unaware that you're giving Fellow quite the show. 

He can't help but lick his lips, reaching down to massage his groin through his slacks. 

You spin around and strike a pose for your imaginary crowd, feeling powerful. 

"Are you ready, my love?" Fellow asks, startling you out of your daydream. 

He pockets his mirror and adjusts the front of his pants, trying to disguise his erection as best he can.

"I'm ready."

"Show me what you've got," he says. You both turn around to face each other and he gasps, his eyes widening and mouth falling open.

"My goodness, darling," he whispers. "You're exquisite."

The way he's looking at you makes you feel like the sexiest woman alive. You take a step forward, heart pounding in your chest. Fellow stands up, taking his cane in his hand. He walks over to you and stalks circles around you, gazing up and down as though inspecting merchandise. You yelp as his cold, hard cane smacks your ass.

Finally he stops directly in front of you, meeting your gaze once again. "Oh, Darling, you're an absolute vision." He cups your cheek with his hand, rubbing his thumb across your lips. He wears a sinister smile, and you feel your mouth run dry as you finally realize how sharp his fangs are. You're almost certain he can tell how turned on you are right now.

He pulls away to replenish your wine glass.

"I can't wait to see you dance, my dear. You're going to be a star." He gazes dramatically into the distance, waving his hand like he’s envisioning your name written in dazzling lights. He hands you the full glass and you gulp it down greedily, eager for the liquid courage. You don't even care that this man is a total stranger—it actually makes it hotter.

"Oh, one more thing," Fellow says. He stands up and walks over to the mannequin, opening a drawer next to it and grabbing a matching set of lacy thigh highs. He kneels down in front of you, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he slips the stockings onto your feet. He repeats the process on your other leg, taking his time to run his hands up and down your thighs.

You bite your lip and look away, feeling embarrassed by how wet you are. He's so close to where you want him to touch you, and you're not sure how much longer you can stand this before giving in and doing something you might later regret.

Fellow stands up, his hands gliding up your legs as he does. He gently grabs your chin and tilts your head up so you're forced to look at him.

"What a naughty little minx," he whispers. "You're practically dripping." He smirks, once again bearing his fangs in the process.

Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing pink.

Fellow laughs. "Oh, there's no use hiding it, love. I can smell it." He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal. "It’s heavenly."

God dammit. You can't help but throw your head back in frustration from being outed so easily. Never underestimate a beastman's sense of smell.

He lets go of your chin and steps away from you. You let out a shaky breath you didn't realize you were holding.

"Don't worry, darling," he says, making his way back to the bar. "I'll make sure you're properly taken care of." He refills his glass and downs it. He doesn't know how long he's going to be able to wait until he's inside you.

You try to get back on track to a more... professional topic. "So, is this the type of outfit I would wear if I were to perform?" You try to sound as innocent as possible.

Fellow laughs a slow, deranged, almost maniacal laugh that makes your skin crawl. "Oh, no, darling. Outfits like these are reserved for the backup dancers. With the plans I have for you, you'll be wearing far less." He sets his wine glass on his desk and opens one of the drawers, pulling out a roll of thin, dark brown rope. Your heart pounds in your chest as he walks toward you, unraveling the rope as he goes.

You stumble backwards instinctively and even in your drunken haze, you start trying to take note of your surroundings and look for the exit. "Is this a joke?" you ask, trying to sound as calm as possible. "You know you don't need to tie me up if you want me to stay, right?" You try your best to reason with him and hope to God you didn’t put yourself in harm’s way.

"Oh, I'm not tying you up to get you to stay, Miss Y/N." He puts on his most pleasant and agreeable facial expression, lips contorting into an innocent cat-like smile, eyes crinkled as he feigns benevolence. "It smells to me like you'd do that all on your own. Am I correct?" He tilts his head toward you and gazes into your soul with piercing, knowing eyes. 

He makes a show of walking over to the door and opening it, waving his hand through the open air of the doorframe. "Make no mistake, I'm certainly not forcing you to stay here. You are welcome to leave right now. I'll even let you keep the outfit, if you’d like." He gives you a knowing smirk and continues to hold the door open.

You gulp, feeling the familiar heat between your thighs grow stronger. Your mind is racing, trying to think of every possible rationalization to feel safe staying—anything to get your pussy the relief it deserves. If he really was a predator—you try to reason with yourself—you'd probably be dead by now. And he was right, you do feel like you could get off, just from being tied up. Your body seems to be the decision-maker here, and it’s telling you to stay.

You shake your head at his offer. "No, I'm good."

"Wonderful," he purrs, his expression darkening. He slams the door shut and turns the lock, letting the thud of the door ricochet through your body. "Now then! The reason I am tying you up is for your performance. Just a few short hours until showtime!" He steps forward, closing the gap between you. He runs his fingertips down your bare arm, stopping to wrap them around your wrist. You shiver at his touch, your body instinctively leaning toward him, yearning for more. Your face flushes red with embarrassment and arousal. You don't understand how he's able to turn you on so easily.

"You see, my dear," Fellow begins, his voice soft and seductive, "I'm not the only one who's been watching you hungrily." You feel his hot breath on your neck as he brings his lips close to your ear. "Believe me, Doll, they're going to love what they see." He takes your hand in his and places it on the bulge in his pants. His cock throbs beneath his clothes and your eyes widen at how big he is.

"I'm not just a magician, but a master of hypnosis as well," he elucidates. 

He's never before been so forthcoming in his whole career, but there's just something about you that makes him want to be upfront. 

Truthfully, he hasn't had to use any hypnosis magic at all to persuade you. No, you wanted this on your own. Despite your innocence and reluctance—you wanted him. His cold heart skips a beat at the thought. He releases your hand and once again cups your cheek. He pushes a thumb past your lips and forces you to suck on it. A deep moan escapes his lips as the sensation of your soft tongue against his thumb runs straight to his aching loins. Removing his thumb from your mouth, he slides it down your chin, tracing your jawline before moving to your neck. You arch your back and press your body against his, feeling the tip of his thumb press along your jugular, sending chills down your spine.

"And I can assure you that by the time I'm done with you, you'll be the perfect little hypnotized whore." You shudder as his tongue traces the side of your neck—it feels so good. He continues to drag his tongue up to your ear, and you moan loudly as he suckles your earlobe. Your knees are giving out, so you wrap your arms around him for support. "That's the beauty of my magic, love. No prior experience necessary. I'll ensure you put on the show of a lifetime. Simply allow yourself to enjoy the ride." You whimper softly, unable to form coherent thoughts or speak intelligibly, too caught up in the way he's pleasuring you.

"But don't worry, Love," he says, his voice low and raspy. "You'll still remember everything when we're done."

Your head is dizzy, trying desperately to process his every word. You can't stop yourself from moaning as his hands continue to explore. As far as the current circumstances go, nothing matters, as long as he’s making you feel this damn good. He takes his time groping and squeezing wherever—and whatever—he can get his greedy hands on, relishing in the opportunity to touch your perfect frame.

Looking into your eyes, he's suddenly overcome with emotion—unusual for him. This isn't something he's ever done with his employees, but there is a twinge in his chest willing him to do it. Perhaps—just this once—he can deviate from the script. Fellow hungrily crashes his lips against yours, kissing you passionately. You melt against him, opening your mouth to grant him entry. You feel yourself losing control as he dominates your mouth, exploring every inch with his tongue. You grip onto his hair, pulling him closer. His fangs lightly graze your bottom lip and it makes you shiver. The way he kisses you is so possessive and needy, and it's driving you wild. You've never been kissed like this before. His hands travel down your body and grip your ass tightly, causing you to yelp. Your hands claw at his blue coat and green vest, desperately trying to remove his clothes so you can feel his bare skin. He growls into your mouth before breaking the kiss.

"Eager little thing, aren't you?" he murmurs against your lips.

You nod in response, gasping when he suddenly pulls away. Seeing how needy you are, he smirks, delighted at how much you want him.

"Oh, Darling. Why don't you save that for the audience?" he teases. "You're going to put on a good show for them, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'll do my best. I promise I'll make you proud," you gasp, feeling even more aroused by his words.

"That's a good girl." Fellow paces the room, circling you like a vulture. You can feel his eyes on you and can't help but squirm under his gaze. He grabs the rope from earlier, stopping right in front of you. His cane appears in his grasp, seemingly out of thin air. "Such a perfect little slut, so eager to please. I bet you'd do anything I asked you to, wouldn't you?" he asks, spinning his cane with the flick of his fingers, utilizing his hypnosis magic for the first time that day. He needs to ensure your loyalty lies with him.

"Yes." You answer without reluctance.

Fellow's cane magically disappears from his hand. "Such a good little whore." He takes a strand of your hair in his fingers and twirls it before gently tucking it behind your ear. "Now, a few more formalities before we get you ready for the stage. Shall we?" You flinch at the sound of him smacking the rope against the floor, like he's trying to command a circus animal.

Your mind is fuzzy, body practically burning with desire—you don't even notice him guiding you to his desk. He bends you over the hard wood, your breasts and stomach pressing against the cool surface. He presses his body against yours, his erection grinding between your ass cheeks, and you can't help but moan. Fellow rips off his gloves, tossing them aside. His right hand snakes around your body and reaches into your panties, his fingers rubbing against your wet clit. He slips a finger inside you—finally.

"My, my…" he whispers. "So wet for me already. You’ll look so beautiful when you're on stage for everyone to see. My precious little toy."

Your breathe heavier as he continues to fuck you with his finger, tantalizingly slow. Just as you open your mouth to beg for more, he slips his finger out of you and slams a contract on the table in front of you.

"I need you to sign this first. Standard contract," he says casually. "This is a business, after all." He drops a pen within your reach. All the while, he continues grinding against you, his clothed cock rubbing against the sheer fabric of your panties, further tantalizing your throbbing clit. "Go ahead, Darling. I can't wait to show you off."

You sign your name on the dotted line, quickly dismissing what seems to be the final roadblock in your path to pleasure. There's nothing else in your psyche than how badly you need him to fuck you. Your pussy aches with desire—you can't wait any longer. "Please. Please, fuck me," you whimper, begging him to give you what you want.

"Oh, Darling," he purrs. "All in due time."

Fellow leans in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I wonder how many people will come tonight just to see this pretty little body of yours?" he asks. "How many men and women will stare at you, touching themselves as you writhe in pleasure? I bet you can't wait for them to see how much of a needy little whore you are. You were born to be a star." His voice is soft and seductive as he plays on your desperation.

"Now. Let's get you out of these clothes." He expertly unhooks your bra with a single hand. With a swift yank, it falls to the floor, revealing your perfect tits, hard nipples on full display. "Beautiful. So deliciously plump and round, my flawless doll." 

You're still bent over the table as his fingers snake into the elastic waistband of your skimpy skirt and thong. He pulls it taut, ready to tear it right off of you... but he hesitates, remembering its one-of-a-kind value. Squatting slightly, he gently pulls your skirt and panties to the floor, utilizing the opportunity to bask in the aroma and view of your now-exposed pussy. He grabs your thighs where the stockings are and, quite impatient, rolls them down as his fingernails trail lines down the flesh of your legs in the process. He guides your feet out of each leg hole, revealing your full nudity. Seeing your juices glisten makes his eyes light up, mouth curling into a grin. His mouth waters and he inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent. He can't help but lean for a taste, his tongue gliding against your folds and lapping up your essence. Your knees buckle as his warm, wet tongue explores your deprived cunt. Nothing has ever felt so good. Your entire body trembles and you cry out in pleasure. He keeps his hands firmly planted on your ass, holding you in place as he continues to lap up your pussy. It feels so good, it's almost painful. He pulls away after a moment and you whimper at the loss of contact.

"So, tell me, Love. Are you a virgin?" he asks with a sneaking suspicion. He traces his fingertips down your spine, awaiting your response.

You shudder, the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin is so tantalizing. "Yes," you answer, unable to hold back your excitement.

Fellow's eyes widen, surprised by how easy it was to get you to admit that. He smirks, continuing to caress your back. "Ah, perfect," he hums. "What a privilege it is to deflower you." He reaches for his phone on his desk and utilizes the speech to text feature to say one thing: “We’ve got a virgin.” He clicks the display off and gives you a wink. "The marketing team will start advertising for a very special show tonight. I wonder how many people will come to watch me break in a virgin? I'm sure we'll sell out! An incredibly rare specimen indeed."

His words send a chill down your spine. The thought of thousands of people watching you lose your virginity excites you even further, and you find yourself becoming increasingly aroused. Your whole body is hot—you can't help but squirm as your juices slowly drip down both legs. You shudder, picturing an entire audience getting aroused, their attention rapt on you. Just the thought of how many people will want you... all of those horny people, with their eager bodies and impatient erections at the sight of you losing your innocence. A hot sensation pools deep in your belly and your clit throbs with need. You roll your hips back toward him, wordlessly indicating your desires.

He pockets his phone, delighted that the plan is progressing so flawlessly. "Tell me, my dear, have you ever orgasmed before?" You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and you shake your head. He grins, leaning in closer, his tail swishing between his legs and up onto your throbbing clit. It tickles so good. "Have you ever touched yourself?" Your body heats up, and a wave of shyness washes over you as you attempt to suppress a groan. He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you to surrender yourself completely. "What a beautiful thing, modesty…" he muses. "Tell me, Dear. No need to be so shy." Your face is turning a dark crimson, and he's never found something so appealing in all his years.

"No. Not successfully," you answer softly. You've never been able to get yourself off. Your hands would wander as you'd lie in bed, desperate to find some sort of relief, but it never came. You've never had that pleasure before, and you were starting to think you may never experience it.

"Oh, Darling, you poor thing. I'll have to take care of that for you. I know all the tricks.” Hearing the zipper of his pants, you gasp in anticipation. He takes his cock out of his boxers and you feel the flesh of his hardened tip slide over your wet labia. He takes your hand in his and guides it to your clit, teaching you how to circle your fingers around it in the perfect motion.

"Just like that, Love," he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "You're doing so well. Doesn't that feel good?" You moan softly as he continues to guide you, his free hand on his cock, sliding up and down its length, using your never-ending juices as lubrication. He bucks his hips slightly as he starts to jerk himself off, letting out a quiet moan, teasing himself and rubbing his cock head against the sopping wet folds of your untouched pussy—knowing he has to save it if he wants a fruitful show. The way your face contorts and your lips part with desperate pleasure, he suddenly has to fight himself not to lose control and break your hymen right then and there.

Knowing that Fellow can’t help but touch himself to you amplifies the pleasure even further. Your fingers continue to dance over your clit and for the first time, it feels amazing. Every nerve in your body is electrified, your breath coming in short pants. Your hand feels like it's floating through space as he moves you like a puppet, directing your motions the way that he wants you. He rubs himself a bit faster as he watches you writhing, becoming more desperate and vocal than before. His own lust becomes insatiable. He’s sculpting you into the perfect masterpiece, just the way he likes it—his own custom sex toy.

"Just imagine all those people in the audience," he murmurs. His hand quickens on his cock and he groans. His hand over yours speeds up to match his pace, and he adds more pressure to show you exactly how to pleasure yourself. "All of those hungry eyes on you, craving every inch of you…" His hips jerk slightly and he moans, losing himself to his own dirty thoughts. Your clit is throbbing so painfully that tears begin to form at the edges of your eyes. He has never seen anyone become so intoxicated with the simple idea of him before, and you don't even realize how loud and desperate your moans and cries have become. His face flushes every time you scream his name, and your beautiful expression fills him with the greatest satisfaction, an image forever imprinted in his brain. The sight of you, so eager to please him—he knows now that he'll never let you go.

You feel yourself approaching explosion—the very first time—and your muscles tense in response. "Oh, fuck, every single one of them will be touching themselves, getting off to the sight of you, desperate to be where I am right now. And here you are, moaning my name as I prepare you, just aching for me to bring you to your first orgasm. You'll look so beautiful when I pop that sweet little cherry of yours." 

He groans and bucks his hips, jerking himself off faster and faster. Your clit throbs, ready to explode. "You want to cum, don't you, darling?" His voice is low and husky, and he pants heavily. "Cum for me, darling, cum for me. I want to hear you scream for me." Your toes curl, knees buckling in ecstasy. He guides your hand even faster over your clit. "That's it, Love, just let go." His voice is the sweet encouragement that pushes you over the edge, almost on command. You feel a strange electricity ripple through your leg muscles, a release that exceeds every single thing you thought you knew about pleasure.

Your first true orgasm rips through your body like a tornado, tearing apart any inhibitions and preconceived notions about reality. Everything around you turns bright white as euphoria sweeps through your body, wave after wave leaving you moaning and shaking uncontrollably in his arms. Your legs feel like jelly, and it becomes impossible to hold yourself up. His fingers leave yours, transferring their tight grip to your hair, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him as he fucks himself furiously to the sight of you. You were like putty in his hand, melting and molding according to his wishes—a perfect, brainwashed, fucked-out little slut.

Fellow lets out a strained grunt as he orgasms, painting your ass with his seed. He can't help but sigh in pleasure as he gazes lovingly at the blank and pliant expression on your face as he drains the rest of himself onto you. He sighs as his last spurts dribble from the tip of his cock, admiring how much he's marked you as his. You're still shaking and whimpering as you come down from your high, your face contorted in pleasure, your eyes glazed over and staring into nothing. You look absolutely fucked out, and he takes a moment to admire your blissful expression before finally releasing you from his grip. He gives you a small push, causing you to fall forward onto your hands. He takes a step back to admire his handiwork—your thighs are soaked with your own cum, and your ass is dripping with his.

"Such a good girl," he praises. "You did such a good job for me. You're going to be the best performer I’ve ever had. It's about time we take you to the stage to get you set up, my dear. You’re better than I could have ever imagined.” You can only gasp, too wrecked from your pleasure to respond in words. Fellow grins with satisfaction, memorizing the sight of his seed glistening all over your back, chuckling to himself as he wipes it off with a tissue. He tosses the tissue into a random corner of his office and then helps you find your footing again.

Gently lifting your chin, his gaze softens, mouth opening to form a gentle smirk. His thumb brushes against your trembling bottom lip, a caring and fond expression overtaking his features. 

Your heart leaps into your throat as you begin to question the warmth in his smile and his affectionate gaze. Is your body's chemical response misreading signals, or are you witnessing evidence that Fellow perhaps has a bit more going on than simply taking sexual interest? A new, deeper desire to understand the mysterious man behind the curtain of your own experience begins to bloom in your mind. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as his hand cups your cheek. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on your lips and you return it, savoring the way his soft lips feel against yours. It feels so intimate, like a lover's kiss, and your heart flutters in your chest. You pull away and look into his eyes once more, trying to figure out what he's thinking, but you can't read his expression. His face is completely unreadable, granting you no indication as to whether you're making any progress in decoding him.

He takes off his coat and helps you put it on, wrapping you up to ensure your modesty is protected for your short walk to the stage. He takes your hand and guides you out of his office, your legs still shaking from climax.

You walk together in silence, hand in hand, your head still spinning as you try to process everything that just happened. You can't believe how incredible your first orgasm felt, and you're already craving another.

"What are you thinking about, Darling?"

"I'm thinking about how I’ve never felt that good before," you admit, blushing slightly.

Fellow chuckles. "That's very sweet," he says. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'll be sure to give you many more orgasms in the future." His grip on your hand tightens slightly, and you can't help but feel a sense of longing for him.

You continue walking in silence until you arrive at the stage. Fellow stops in front of the stage door and turns to face you.

"Are you ready, Love?" he asks, his voice gentle. He takes both of your hands in his and brings them to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. His carnelian gaze holds yours, his hot breath dancing across your fingers. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Your heart swells and you feel yourself melting.

You nod enthusiastically and squeeze his hands, hoping he doesn't pick up on your nervous, pounding heartbeat. "I'm ready," you affirm, gazing intently into his beautiful, half-lidded eyes, feeling braver and more confident than you have all day.

He flashes a subtle smile. "Wonderful." He gives you one last peck on the cheek before turning to open the stage door. He places his free hand on your lower back and guides you onto the stage, leading you towards the center, where the lighting crew are busy at work. He introduces you and makes a show of presenting you to the crew—holding out your arm like he would for a debutante entering a ball, a prince presenting his chosen partner to a ballroom dance. The crew whistle and holler as you walk onto the stage. All you can do is stand there with the distinct smile of a hypnotized-yet-willing participant in the world's most eccentric 18+ theater. Their ogling is the furthest thing from your mind, as your attention remains firmly rooted on the charismatic manager in your grasp.

"Sorry, Boys. This one is mine. No one can have her but me." He places his hand on the side of your arm and pulls you close to him, draping an arm over your waist possessively.

As you glance up, your breath catches and your heart skips a beat; your adoring, hungry gaze is returned by his, a mirror of your own emotions shining through in his flaming irises. There's something strange about his stare—there always is. His face betrays some of that vulnerability again, an instance where he's truly letting his guard down, a crack in his meticulous and calculated visage. It’s a warm hint of softness that signals what he said to the crew might ring true outside of these walls as well.

Fellow turns back toward the crew as a new scene is placed before them, and within a split second, he resumes his demeanor of a business-oriented gentleman. "One hour ‘til showtime. Make her shine, People! We want the audience drooling the second she gets on stage!" He holds out his hand, his cane reappearing like magic. "Have fun in makeup!" He winks at you, the flick of his head gesturing you away.

Stylists appear behind you, and you reluctantly release your hold on him. He flashes a reassuring smile as you are guided away, a bewitchingly charming smile settling onto his lips. You head backstage, and he turns to get back to business.

Damn, if you made it all the way down here... wow. Thank you so much for spending this time with me. If you enjoyed this, that means a lot to me because this is pretty much just a self indulgent fic I started writing as soon as Fellow dropped without really knowing too much about him. I haven't begun writing part two, but I have my general ideas of where I want it to go. If you have suggestions for part two, please comment or send me an ask, I'd love to hear your thoughts! ❤️ Erica Malleleothreesome

[taytrashmouth]

Peter Parker x reader

Peter Parker was brave.

He’d fought aliens. He’d survived gym class after accidentally webbing himself to a trash can. He even stood up to Dr. Strange once (though the guy still scared the hell out of him). But nothing—and he meant nothing—was as terrifying as the glint in y/n’s eye when she said:

“I’m making us Halloween costumes.”

He had every reason to be nervous.

Y/n was… unpredictable. She was the kind of girl who could wear a plain sweatshirt and somehow make it look runway. She had a soft spot for chaotic Pinterest projects, midnight baking sprees, and beating Peter at Mario Kart while pretending she didn’t know how to use the controller. And she had this dangerous calm about her—like a hurricane encased in lip gloss.

“Just—just promise it’s not glitter, okay?” Peter said nervously, standing in the doorway of her bedroom, watching her rummage through a pile of fabric like a woman possessed. “Or, like… wings. Or cat ears. Or—oh God, are we gonna be cats? Please don’t make me a cat.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Relax, Spidey. No glitter. No cats. And no wings.” She held up a piece of white fabric dramatically. “Trust me. You’re going to love it.”

He raised a suspicious brow. “That’s what you said last time, and I ended up at Ned’s birthday party covered in glow-in-the-dark slime.”

“You said it was ‘slime-themed!’” she countered, tossing a pillow at him.

Peter caught it and laughed, cheeks pink. “I said ‘green balloons.’ You decided that meant Nickelodeon threw up on me.”

She smirked. “Same same.”

He gave her a look, walking over and brushing his hand along her desk, eyes narrowing at the small scraps of cloth and thread. “Just… give me a hint?”

Y/n paused, lips twitching. “Nope.”

“Come on, y/n—what if it’s, like, a historical costume and I have to learn an accent?”

She snorted. “You’d love that. You’d try to make it educational.”

He pretended to pout. “Okay, but I need to mentally prepare, you know? What if it’s leather? Or glitter? Or— spandex.”

“You wear spandex everyday spider-boy.” She countered.

“Yeah but that’s tactical spandex-“ Peter mumbled.

“Peter.”

“—a tutu—?”

“You’ll survive. I promise. Trust me—these costumes are going to blow your nerdy little mind.” Y/n smiled.

“I’m not that nerdy—” Peter counterd.

“You cried when Obi-Wan said ‘You were my brother, Anakin.’”

“Okay—that scene was emotional, n/n!”

“Close your eyes.”

He blinked. “What? Why?”

She tilted her head at him, that secret smile playing on her lips. “Because it’s done. And I wanna surprise you.”

Peter stared. “Oh. Uh—okay. Yeah. Sure.”

He awkwardly turned around and squeezed his eyes shut, hands hovering in midair. His heartbeat picked up. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or just her voice or the fact that he could hear fabric shifting behind him and smell her vanilla perfume wafting through the air like some kind of mind game.

He was feeling a twinge of anxiety in his stomach. She was mysterious when she wanted to be—always calm, cooler than he ever managed to be in any social setting. She was the undercover nerd—quietly brilliant, casually dropping Lord of the Rings references like bombs. And it always threw him off.

“Alright,” she said after a long pause, voice quiet but full of something he couldn’t quite place. “You can look now.”

He turned slowly—and his jaw hit the floor.

Y/n stood in the center of the room in Padmé Amidala’s arena outfit from Attack of the Clones—white, sleek, with a bare midriff and a curve-hugging fit that made Peter’s brain short-circuit. Her hair was styled back, her makeup soft but glowing, and the second their eyes met, she bit her lip nervously.

“Well?” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “Too much?”

Peter didn’t answer at first. He just stared, mouth slightly open.

“Holy…” He finally managed a word. “Y/n.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re—” He swallowed. “You’re Padmé. My Padmé.”

She raised an eyebrow, trying to laugh it off. “You gonna faint, Skywalker?”

“I might.” He stepped closer slowly, eyes tracing every inch of her. “You look… insane. Like—in a good way. Like, Natalie Portman’s crying somewhere.”

She smirked, hands on her hips. “You like?”

“Like? Y/n, I think I just fell in love again.” He said.

��Again?” She questioned

“Yeah,” he mumbled, cheeks turning pink, “I already fell once when you said you liked Star Wars… and then again when you quoted Gandalf. But this is like, strike three, I’m dead. You’ve killed me.”

Y/n chuckled, but her arms instinctively crossed in front of her stomach. “It’s kind of tight. And revealing. I don’t know…”

Peter blinked, finally catching the note of vulnerability in her voice. He softened, stepping closer and gently reaching for her hand. “Hey. Hey—look at me.”

She did.

“You look amazing, okay? I mean—beyond amazing. Galactic-level hot. Intergalactic. Multiverse hot.”

That made her laugh again, but her eyes were still searching his.

Peter tucked a loose piece of her hair behind her ear. “I know this shows a lot. And if you’re uncomfortable, we can switch it up. I’ll be Shrek if it makes you feel better—just say the word. But if it’s just nerves?” He smiled. “Then you should know you’ve never looked more beautiful. And tonight, I’m gonna be the luckiest Jedi at the party.”

Y/n exhaled, letting herself lean into his touch. “You always say the right thing.”

Y/n flushed. “Really?” She checked he meant what he said one last time.

He stepped closer, touching her waist gently. “Really. And if anyone says otherwise, I’ll web them to a lamppost.”

“Spider threats. How romantic,” she teased, leaning into him.

He smirked, eyes darkening just a little as his fingers curled at her hips. “You started it. You showed up as Padmé. You know what that does to me.”

“Oh, I know,” she whispered, tugging him by the collar and brushing her lips against his. “Which is why your costume better match.”

Peter groaned. “Please tell me I don’t have to braid my hair like Anakin.”

She kissed his jaw. “Don’t worry. You’re more Episode III. Jedi robe. Messy curls. Tortured soul.”

Peter cleared his throat. “So… like… hot Anakin?”

“Exactly.”

“You little nerd,” he whispered, smiling against her mouth before kissing her properly. Her arms looped around his neck, his hands warm on her bare skin. For a second, the party didn’t matter.

She laughed, kissing him quickly before whispering, “You better put your Anakin costume on before I kiss you again and ruin my lipstick.”

“Bold of you to assume I mind,” he muttered, already leaning in for another.

⸻

At the Party…

Ned spotted them the second they walked in.

“NO FREAKING WAY!” he yelled, practically sprinting in his inflatable pumpkin costume. “YOU GUYS LOOK—like, actual Anakin and Padmé! MJ! LOOK AT THEM!”

MJ, sipping punch from a Solo cup, deadpanned, “Wow. So this is what foreplay looks like for nerds.”

Peter smirked, tugging y/n closer by the waist.

MJ raised an eyebrow. “Is that a fake lightsaber in your pocket or—?”

“MJ!” Peter turned bright red, half-choking while y/n cackled into his shoulder.

Ned fist-bumped him. “Dude. You pulled Padmé. I don’t even wanna know what your Jedi trials were.”

“Mostly glitter,” Peter muttered. “And emotional vulnerability.”

Y/n leaned in. “He cried twice while watching Revenge of the Sith this week.”

“TWICE?!” Ned wheezed.

Peter groaned. “Can we not unpack my trauma in front of the fog machine?”

⸻

Later That Night…

The apartment was quiet.

Peter’s Anakin robe was half-off, lightsaber dropped on the floor, and y/n—still in her Padmé costume—was straddling his lap on the couch, fingers in his curls. The lights were low, music still faint from outside the window. His hands ran along her waist like he couldn’t believe she was real.

“I really am the luckiest Jedi,” he whispered against her neck.

Y/n smiled, breathless. “Told you you’d like the costume.”

“I’m obsessed with the costume,” he said, kissing her collarbone. “But you in it? That’s, like… next-level.”

Her lips ghosted over his. “Still think you’re not that nerdy?”

She kissed him, soft at first—then deeper. His hands tightened on her hips, and she gasped against his mouth, fingers tangling in his curls.

It was warm. A little chaotic. A little sweet. And it felt like galaxies colliding.

Peter pulled back just enough to whisper, “I love you.”

Y/n blinked. And smiled.

“I know.”

“You little nerd!” Peter yelled and y/n laughed rolling over as Peter tickled her.

[hyuny-bunny]

baby said | Y.J. + H. H.

genre: established relationship, rockstar bf x groupie gf x rockstar bff, smut, a touch of fluff, a sprinkle of angst, M X F X M,

wordcount: 6.2K

part I

MNDI (+18) CW: oral (both m and f receiving), unprotected p in v, afab reader, use of she/her/hers/girlfriend, pet names (baby, angel), slight degradation, hyunjin is a whore, voyeurism, riding, squirting, fingering, slight breeding, cumplay, spanking (slightly), teeny bit of angst w/ a splash of fluff, slight overstimulation, threesome, M X F X M, mxm smut

a/n: proof read ? god no. if i miss any warnings please do let me know. also took me several days to pump this out so if you hate it, don't tell me :') peep the nana reference mwahaha

summary: after concert celebration with hyunjin and jeongin takes a turn... for the bed

Since that night in the green room, Hyunjin seemed to have slightly reeled in his behavior. Emphasis on slightly. He remained the flirt he was but less… opportunistic in his advances physically, less pressing you into walls & corners, opting to redirect the energy to his flirty advances. Jeongin noticed his hyung had become more affectionate with him, doting on him like a child or making suggestive remarks. But, no one spoke of that night. 

Jeongin had purposely left that door unlocked. While the target in mind had been Hyunjin, he was willing to expose any poor soul's eyes to the lewd state he had you in that night. Jeongin had lucked out on seeing the look of shock, and terror, mixed with pleasure that painted his face. Finally, he had shown Hyunjin that his attempts would remain futile as long as Jeongin had you wrapped around his finger… Or in this case his cock. 

Tonight was a big night for the band, Minho had made some calls and was able to arrange for a talent scout to watch them play. He happened to be an old friend of Minho’s but the timing never worked out until now. It was a sold-out show in the city, it had left them antsy and anxious for days leading up to the show. Pressure to be perfect, to show this label what they were and could be. You had never seen Jeongin as stressed as he was, it was to the point that sex had been put on pause until after the show. It didn’t offend you but it was hurting to see Jeongin this way without being able just to take the weight off his shoulder for a moment. In consequence, it leaves you starved. You still cuddled every night and his kisses were endless but you missed him inside you. Needed him in you like you needed air to breathe. 

You arrive at the venue, making your way toward the hall that leads backstage, you show your credentials to security before making your way to the green room. The door was closed, Minho leaning against the frame with his head pressed to the wall.

“Everything alright?” You ask, his head finally peaks up to look at you.

“What do you think?” He asks sheepishly, half laughing and shaking his head.

“That bad?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen them this quiet, not even when they’re sleeping” You sigh knowing exactly what he meant.

“Is it alright to go in?”

“Yeah, go for it. The talent scout is here so I’m gonna fetch him” Minho gently grabs your shoulder in passing “Do. Not… Tell them that I’m bringing the scout in. They’ll all just jump up to their feet and mob him like puppies to kibble.”

“Yes, sir” You laugh knowing he’s probably right.

You knock on the door before walking in. Chan is twirling a drumstick in his hand anxiously, Jisung is hunched over in a ball on the floor fidgeting with the scratch in the wood coffee table, and Jeongin is sat back on the couch with a shaky knee biting back his lip. He only ever bites his lip like this when he’s too lost in thought. Matter of fact, they’re all too consumed with their thoughts to have even noticed you’ve walked in. You sit next to Jeongin causing him to snap out of his dazed state. 

“What if I suck?” he asks without looking at you

“You won’t” He’s fixated on something across from him.

“But what if i do?”

“You won’t”

“But-”

“No head. Ever.”

“... that’s a bit cruel don’t you think?”

“Jeongin, look at me” He finally tears his eyes to look at you. His posture softens a bit. You lean forward to kiss his cheek, bringing your lips to his ears.

“You will do amazing like you have always, and I will be there watching, screaming, and cheering you on like I’m the only person in that room tonight.”

His face turns to lean into the hand that caresses his face.

“And when it’s all over, you can have me anyway, anywhere, and however you want, okay?”

There’s a flush across the top of his cheeks with that last comment.

“You know I love you right?” He whispers just low enough for you to hear

“I know” 

He looks gorgeous, the black smokey eyeshadow makes his eyes even more striking against the ginger color of his hair. A decision that was made on impulse this past week but has somehow made him look even hotter. You survey the room once more noticing someone was missing.

“Where’s Hyunjin?” You ask which now has Jisung looking up from the coffee table and has Chan dropping his drumstick.

“He’s in the bathroom probably trying to yank one out, he ran through his speed dial fucks, none could be at his beck and call this week so he’s been particularly moody” Chan says so casually it's almost typical. There’s a slam against the wall coming from the bathroom and a loud shout. “See.”

The door to the bathroom is suddenly yanked open and a very frustrated-looking Hyunjin is standing in the doorway. His chest heaving as he puffs out a breath shooting Chan a glare. He’s wearing a black jacket with a velvet finish, a white tank top that scoops a little too low, and black jeans with docs to finish the look. He doesn’t spare you a glance before walking over to the vanity to put his rings on. You look at Jisung who has also zoned out. You slip off the couch to kneel next to him, he looks at you now at eye level with him.

“ I don’t think I need to tell you that they all wouldn’t be here tonight without you Ji, right?” He silently nods. “Good then lets put on a show none of them will forget.”

You kiss the crown of his head before standing up and turning to Chan.

“And you… just be hot and play those drums”

“The ever-encouraging words of our lovely, Y/N, ladies and gentlemen,” Chan applauds you as you curtsey. Hyunjin is sitting on the vanity looking at you, there’s something about his eyes that sends a shiver straight down to where you’ve been aching all week. It’s the same look he had in his eyes that night he grabbed your hand to feel up his tattoos. 

“You on the other hand,” You point a wavering finger to Hyunjin “You’ll find something to stick your dick in tonight, so for the love of god, try to be less pissy until it’s all over.” 

“I’ll hold out hope, maybe if I’m lucky enough, it'll be you,” He rolls his eyes and lets the comment slip past his lips before he’s able to catch it. It leaves your face flushed and the rest of them shooting a look of bewilderment at him.

The tension is cut by Minho walking back into the room, indicating its almost time for them to go on. On cue, you blow Jeongin a kiss to which he obnoxiously catches and presses to his lips. Hyunjin’s comment rolls around in your head until you get to the bar to grab a drink. You know him enough to know when he’s joking but this didn’t sound like it. The look of shock on everyone's face was just confirmation. You see a seat and ask the guy sitting left of it if it’s taken, he sheepishly says it's all yours. You shed the coat you've been wearing, lined and trimmed in faux fur with intricate embroidery, revealing your long-sleeved mini-black dress. You took note of the way his eyes drank everything in, you smiled looking at him again. 

“Are you a big fan of the band?” You ask trying to make small talk, intrigued by his presence. He wasn’t dressed like anyone else here, he wore a grey hoodie and jeans, and a mop of soft brown hair sat on his head matching the softness of his eyes. 

“Can’t say that I am just yet. This is my first show, and you?”

“You’re in for a real treat. I’m a huge fan you could say. Been to almost every show.” His eyes widen a bit at this. “Oh really? Just here for the music?” He asks with raised brows. 

Without another word, you wink as the lights dim and the crowd screams.

This had to be one of their best shows, the energy from the crowd only amplifying their stage presence. You had never seen them performing as passionately as they had tonight. They all moved and played so perfectly in sync, on top of nailing every drum solo, guitar solo, and long vocal note. The lights had come on and your drink was empty once again. The guy who had been next to you had stood up lingering inside taking a phone call. Minho was the first to come out, he walked to security first to let them know to usher the remainder people out as quickly as possible. 

“They’ll be out soon, the talent scout wants to see them to discuss a deal. The venue said we could have it in the attached restaurant so can you please take these orders and grab us a booth?” Minho asks while frantically looking around.

“Boo if this is my reward for being Jeongins girlfriend, I’m expecting a cut of this deal too” You pout at Minho who is waving you off. 

You give the waiter the order for the 7 of you before sitting in the booth. It's a rounded booth with an extra chair at the open part of the table. You had given the coat to the host at the entrance but your legs felt cold with the mini dress riding up your thighs in this booth. It isn’t long before you see Chan and Jisung, dressed more casually and strutting to the table. You step out the booth to hug them both and congratulate them on the show. Minho is making his way down soon with Jeongin and Hyunjin in toe. Jeongin is grabbing you by the face to give you a kiss leaving you giggling at his enthusiasm. He tries to kiss all over your face before Jisungs groans and interrupts. You end up sandwiched between Jeongin and Hyunjin, which unfortunately does nothing for the ache between your thighs, the smell of their cologne is all you can breathe in, and the roughness of their jeans brushing against your exposed legs. They were both notorious for manspreading, so any thought or notion you had about legroom was out the window. 

Hyunjin seems to either not notice or care about the way your legs try to scoot further from his, you opt to cross your legs over each other, causing your boyfriend to notice and slide a hand onto the thigh that was buried under the other leg, his hand smushed between your thighs and so close to where your panties are dripping for him. Jeongin carries on with his convo with Chan who sits next to him. You take a shallow breath trying to focus on anything else, this piques Hyunjin’s interest.

“What’s got you so worked up?” He asks lowly into your ear while throwing an arm around the back of the booth seating that cages you in. 

“I could ask you the same” You scoff when he reaches to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I’ll share if you do? Here I’ll make it easy for you,” He riches for his drink tossing back the last of his drink, you watch a droplet slip down the side of his mouth just missing his lips. As he sets the drink down he’s leaning incredibly and his lips are practically pressed against the shell of your ear. “I would love nothing more than to rip that dress off your body, lay you out on this table, and fuck you while your boyfriend watches. And I know you haven't been fucked for days with how tense our Innie has been.”

You cough trying to suppress the moan you let slip, luckily it only has Jeongin turning to check on you with concern. You tell him you choked on air before he gives your thigh a reassuring squeeze and a kiss to your temple. He promised to make it up to you tonight for the dry spell he left you in this week. Hyunjin has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, his gaze fixed on the guy now walking to your table and waving to Minho. It’s the same guy from the bar.

“Ah finally. Everyone this is Seungmin, he works for Capitol Records.” Seungmin waves coyly until his eyes meet yours. Min goes around introducing you all.

 “This is Jisung, our singer, Chan, our drummer, Jeongin, our lead guitarist, and Hyunjin, our bass player. This is Y/N, our unofficial assistant and resident groupie.” Minho laughs at that comment but earns him a shin kick from Hyunjin. You roll your eyes extending a handshake.

“I’m Jeongin’s girlfriend. I think it's fair to say that Assistants and Groupies have better benefits than I do but it’s nice to meet you. Formally, that is.” You smile coquettishly. You always knew better to play into the flirt act when it would benefit them.

“It’s nice to have a name to put to such a pretty face.” You blush but it's sincere. The rest are side-eyeing you suspiciously Jeongin only has a questionable look on his face, you mouth ‘tell you later’ to him which melts the furrowed brow expression on his face.

“Great news,” Seungmin says as he sits in the seat between “The company wants to sign you a two-record deal. Some terms are negotiable but I’ll need an answer tonight.”

“What are the terms?” Chan is the first to speak.

“55k sign-on bonus, 15% cut on ticket sales, 10% on album sales, and we keep the royalties.”

“No.” Jeongin says firmly. Seungmin has a shocked look on his face.

“We want our royalties, we write everything ourselves. We’ve produced everything ourselves up until now. Our royalties and right to the music is non-negotiable.” Jisung speaks up but there’s not a single thought of consideration for the offer on his face.

Seungmin looks to Minho for help, “I told you they weren’t gonna crack on that,” he says with a shrug. 

“We’d be willing to give a portion of the royalties, but not all.” Hyunjin jumps in.

“20% for you and 80% for us” Chan says.

“You’re twisting my arm on this guys.” Seungmin looks at you all with pleading eyes, it’s so cute it almost works on you. You see why he’s the scout now. He stands up to pull his phone out “Let me make a call.”

He walks away leaving the 6 of you at the table quite, a bit jittery and anxious. Your mind brings you back to what Hyunjin said a few moments ago when you feel fingers brushing the side of your thigh where the hem of your dress rides up. You don’t have a chance to say something to him before Jeongin has a look of distress on his face, his grip on your thigh is getting a little tighter.

“I hate this. Everything about this makes me so anxious.’ He leans his head on your shoulder slumping back. You caress his face making him look at you.

“I can call Yasu, he might be a little helpful. Besides, unless he has some paperwork on him for you to sign at this very moment, which I highly doubt, nothing is final until you put pen to paper.” Yasu was a lawyer your friend of yours, very intimidating to look at with his dark sunglasses always on, the height, the piercings, and his bald head. He was a sweetheart but he had a cold look that always helped when you were going out. 

“Please, could you?” He looks at you with his puppy eyes, you kiss his forehead before pulling your phone out to call him.

“Let me out, I gotta make a call.” You say to Hyunjin as your pulling up Yasu’s contact information. He doesn’t budge, “Hyun.”

“Gotta crawl across, baby, I don’t really feel like moving.” You wait a moment.

He can’t be serious. While you’d normally argue with him, you needed to call Yasu before Seungmin came back.

Fuck it. 

Without a second thought, you put your legs over his lap before scooting yourself across his lap. That’s when you feel it, he’s hard. You're pulling your dress down again.

“You know you’re a real pain in my ass?” You huff

“I was hoping it would be a pleasure”

You look past him at Jeongin who’s still processing what he saw once again, he needs another moment.

You scurry off to a secluded corner to call Yasu.

It’s a brief conversation, he warns you of what to look out for and to call him first before signing anything.

“Hey, can I ask you something unrelated?”

“Of course.”

“If my boyfriend's band member who is also my long time friend, won’t stop flirting with me despite walking in on me and my very loving boyfriend having sex… what do i do to make him stop?”

He says nothing, you can hear him sigh deeply on the other end.

“Hyunjin.” It’s more of a statement then question, you hum in response. “Throw him a bone.”

“In what way?”

“That’s up to you. Goodnight.” 

Your head spinning with ideas. You store it in the back of your mind for a moment before walking back seeing Minho waiving the waiter over to collect the bill.

“What happened?” You ask Jeongin who stands beside Jisung out of the booth.

“We’re renegotiating tomorrow afternoon, let Yasu know we’ll need him if they want to sign,” Jeongin says while wrapping an arm around you. You're texting your friend once more, giving him the details of when and where before he confirms he’ll be there first thing.

Jisung, Chan, and Minho had departed with their goodnights by the time you refocus on your surroundings. Hyunjin is still lingering, standing next to the both of you.

Throw him a bone.

“Hyun, you want to come out with us for a few drinks?” Jeongin asks. It seems someone has already beaten you to the question. Hyunjin is glancing at you once more before that stupid grin is back on his face.

“Sure. I got no one better to do. Sorry, I meant nothing better to do.”

You’re walking down to the speakeasy bar down the street a few blocks over, it was pretty hipster. Dark velvet walls, gold lighting fixtures, and indie shoegaze music. It looked like a burlesque hall but hipster men and women sprinkled everywhere. You often came here for a fun time after a show, it seemed as good of a time as any.

Hyunjin grabbed your drinks while you grabbed a table in the corner tucked from everyone else, your back to being sandwiched between the two of them. You take what was probably your third drink of the night, it’s liquid courage. Every time you felt a buzz like this, your actions were a bit unpredictable. You're swaying a bit, Hyunjin is staring at your lips. The entire time you’ve been sitting here, they were two chatterboxes not sparing an ounce of attention. 

“Truth or dare?” You ask. Jeongin is leaning into your back with his head pressed to your shoulder. 

“Truth,” Hyunjin answers without sparing a glance at Jeongin, he’s intrigued by the mischief in your eyes.

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?” Hyunjin’s brow raises.

“Yeah. I do. How does that make you feel?”

“Gotta play the game right, Hyunjinnie,” You say taunting a finger at him. 

“Fine, truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Jeongin is pressing his lips into your shoulder.

“Take your panties off.” Your chest is fluttering, your boyfriend groans a bit.

“How do you know I’m wearing any?”

“Prove it, then.” You shake your head while you lift off the seat to pull them down a bit before shimming them off. You pick them up tossing the black thong into Hyunjins lap.

“Good girl.” Jeogin nips at your ear, and you let a moan slip while his hands start to paw at the flesh of your thighs. “Truth or dare, Hyunjin?” 

‘“Dare,” Hyunjin’s head tilts like a confused puppy as he speaks.

“Kiss me.” Your pussy is drolling with the way Hyunjin is looking at you. You feel yourself getting hotter under his gaze.

Without another second passing, Hyunjin’s lips are attacking your own. It was everything you imagined, his lips were soft and full against yours. His kisses are wet from the way his tongue is dancing with yours. He has a hand in your hair pulling ever so softly, yours tangling in his hair while your other grips at Jeongin who sits behind you. He pulls away to bring his free hand up to your boyfriend's face, he grabs him by the hair pulling him in for a kiss. There, smushed between the two of them, you have the perfect view of their lips and tongues fighting for dominance. The wet smacking and saliva connecting their mouths have you whimpering. It was so lewd to be pressed between the two of them while they moaned and gasped into each other's mouths. They both pull back looking at the flush across your face while panting for air. Jeongin is the first to attack your neck on the side closest to him, and Hyunjin follows suit. You let out a whiny gasp, rubbing their thighs up and down before moving to their crotches feeling the strained hard cock’s beneath their pants. Jeongin’s hand makes its way to your exposed cunt, this pulls you out of your lust-filled haze. You remember you're in public again. You’re pulling Jeongin off once more too.

“Hotel. Now. Not here.” His lips are tinted pink and glossy from hickeys he's just sucked into your skin.

He groans but silently agrees grabbing your purse, Hyunjin pulls away from your neck reluctantly. Pulling you with him out of the booth. Jeongin is leading you out of the now crowded bar, holding your hand while Hyunjin keeps a hand on your waist right beside you. Your heart is racing, pounding against your chest. The walk back to your hotel feels like an eternity, Jeongin is repeatedly slamming down the elevator button with impatience. Hyun is pressed firmly against your back, his arm wrapped around your waist and his hand splayed on your tummy. Never been more thankful to have him holding you so firmly in fear your legs would give out any moment. Hyunjin nips at your ear teasingly while you feel his growing erection poke into your back.  The elevator dings, Jeongin dragging the two of you inside. Once the doors shut on you three, Jeongin kisses you once more, his hand rests on your throat holding you in place. Hyunjin is groaning at the sight feeling himself harden even more at the sight of his friend dominating you, his hands are feeling your chest. Hyunjin slips a hand underneath your dress from behind, feeling the way the lack of panties has only made your pussy droll with excitement for him.

You're pulled off the elevator in a swift motion by the two of them, being straight into the room and onto the bed. You're ripping your clothes off while the other two ogle at the scene in front of them, you fully naked in front of them.

"Who's first?" You ask smirking, trail hand between your thighs, turned on by the sight of the two of them staring at you with hunger in their eyes. They turn to look at each other but Jeongin does the unexpected. He's grabbing a fistful of Hyunjin's hair leaning into his ear.

"I want to watch you eat her out first. You can manage that can't you?" Hyunjin is wincing in pain and pleasure before muttering out a yes. "Good, strip your clothes then."

Hyunjin is throwing his clothes off haphazardly around the room, Jeongin sheds the last of his clothes before he settles down on the bed sitting behind you. Hyunjin is down to his boxers, staring at the both of you before sliding them down revealing his cock. He's big like Jeongin, he's not as long but he's just as girthy if not more. You haven't stopped playing with the slick between your thighs, having enjoyed every moment of the strip show, you glance back to see Jeongin, stroking himself looking between you two. Hyunjin is pulling your hands away from yourself pining them above your head. He's laid atop of you, the feeling of his tip so close to your entrance has you whimpering and wiggling under to get some friction.

"Not so fast. I've waited so long for this." He mumbles with his lips just brushing your own, he goes in for a kiss. It's short but filthy with the way his tongue slips. He pulls away, he holds your wrists in one hand to bring his hand down to your face and squeeze your cheeks.

"Open." You open your mouth only for him to spit right onto your tongue. "Swallow."

You do as he says.

"Fuck, I'm gonna ruin you, such a good girl." He glances at Jeongin while moving his way down your body with teasing kisses. Jeongin gets the hint and leans forward to take hold of your wrists. 

When he finally gets to your thighs, you're already whining for him to do anything. He takes his time watching you through lidded eyes, kissing the inside of your thighs until he's faced with your cunt. He licks a strong stripe up flicking your clit leaving you gasping for more, pushing a thigh up and over his shoulder, he starts with slow but firm licks your clit. One arm stretched across your hips to hold you in place while his free hand repeatedly slaps to the outside of your thigh. After enough teasing, his mouth is fully latched to your cunt, messily slurping up every drop of you. You’re screaming out at his torment, looking up at Jeongin who has let up on his grip on your wrist. He's enticed by the way Hyunjin's face is buried in between your legs. He uses his free hand to grope your tit, massaging the boob in his hand and leaning down to kiss you. You're moaning into his mouth when you feel Hyunjin's finger now brushing your g spot. You feel your eyes rolling back and the knot in your stomach about to burst, the feeling of his lips sucking at your clit, and your back arching off the bed begging to feel relief. You can feel Hyunjin’s fingers pick up pace and his tongue flicking repeatedly as you feel your orgasm approaching, and then the rubber band inside you snaps. Legs shaking, body twitching, and cries pouring from your throat as your release drips down Hyunjin’s face. 

With every touch, your skin feels like fire as you lay there trying to come back to the present. You almost missed the way Jeongin pulled Hyunjin from between your thighs, attacking his face with hot, sloppy kisses, desperate to know what he tasted like with your release coating his lips. When you regain consciousness, Hyunjin is flipping you over onto your stomach, lifting your hips in the air.

“Are you okay? Do you want to keep going?” Jeongin is leaned down by your face. You nod and whisper yes, throat tired from the screams you let out moments ago. He kisses your forehead before maneuvering to sit in front of you, his legs spread while his cock leaks with precum. His tip is angry red, begging to be touched. You’re reminded that Hyunjin is behind you when you feel a harsh smack on your ass, fingers playing between your folds. He gripped his cock with one hand, stroking himself a few while aligning your hips into place. You feel the way he rubs his tip against your dripping cunt, you wiggle your hips begging him to just put in.

“Please... Hyun please just fuck me please,” You plead while gripping the bed, nails digging into the comforter.

“Anything for you, my angel. Such a dirty girl crying out for my cock arent you?”

He’s slamming his hips into you giving you little time to adjust to feeling, his cock brushes against your cervix. He’s thicker then Jeongin, you can feel every ridge of him inside you. You yelp clenching down on him which causes Hyunjin to groan loudly, digging his fingertips into your hips. He moves slowly pulling himself out before bottoming out inside you again. Your whimpers only egg him on, Jeongin is fisting himself, all thoughts consumed by your moans and the way Hyunjin is slamming himself in and out. 

“Gonna fill you up so good. Watch me empty my load into your angel girlfriend, Jeongin.”

Hyunjin picks his pace up, the sound of skin slapping echoes in the room while he pounds into you from behind. You attempt to bury your face in the blanket you lay on top but Hyunjin is drunk on the way you cry out in pleasure, he wants you crying out his name while Jeongin watches. He pulls you up by your hair, lifting you to hold yourself up on your hands, he wraps an arm around your throat, leaning over your body to chokehold you. He continues his merciless thrusting and looks up to Jeongin while he grunts burying himself inside you to the hilt. He has a catlike smirk on his face while you cry out again feeling his tip brushing that spot inside you again. Jeongin is rapidly unfolding at the sight, but he can’t bring himself to release yet. Hyunjin lets you go before pulling out of you leaving you crying out at the empty feeling. He flips you onto your back, you roll over like a ragdoll now that every muscle in your body is worn. He settles on his lifting your hips into his lap before beginning to pound into your cunt. He holds your hips in the air while your back is arching once again, he’s so close and this new angel is bring him close to his own climax. Your whole body shakes and pussy clenches down on him, trying to milk every last drop of cum out of him. With a few sloppy thrusts, he climaxes inside you, painting your insides white with his cum. Your 2nd orgasm falters off as you aren’t as close, when you feel him pull out, your legs shake, needing him to finish what he started. You pant in place aching to feel your release. You look up at Jeongin, your boyfriend who watched his best friend just dump his load into you.

“Sit on my face.” It’s all he says, it's all Jeongin needs to say. He couldn’t cum, not when your pussy was dripping with Hyunjin’s cum. He needed to taste. When he finally scoots down the bed low enough for you to straddle his face and hold the headboard for support. He gives your ass a hard slap, gripping your hips down to smother his face, he was going to eat you out like you were his last meal. Without another second to spare, his tongue is dipping in and out between your folds, Hyunjin’s cum pouring onto his tongue. Lapping every drop into his mouth like you were spring water in the desert. 

Hyunjin had been watching this play out. Trying to catch his breath but he’s hard again, he can’t ignore the burning desire in his stomach to suck Jeongin off right now, when would he ever get another opportunity like this again? He makes his way back onto the bed push Jeongins legs apart, before settling down right between them just like he had done to you earlier. You look over your shoulder catching a glance before Hyunjin is spitting on your boyfriend’s cock to start stroking him. You had a burning feeling in your stomach recalling back to that night Innie fucked you on the couch remembering the fever flush that came over you seeing the way Hyunjin drank the image up. You brought back to reality when Jeongin groans into your pussy, overwhelmed by the feeling of Hyunjin taking him all the way down his throat. Jeongin snaps his hips up causing Hyunjin to gag and tighten his throat around him, you grind your hips into his mouth looking down at him while leaving another harsh smack across your ass.

You’re close to cumming again, your hand fisted in Innie’s hair while he moans into your pussy. He picks up the speed rapidly flicking his tongue on your clit, your thighs hurting from both the approaching orgasm and keeping yourself up from suffocating your boyfriend. Hyunjin is sloppily sucking your boyfriend off, pulling off for a moment to lick at his balls before flattening his tongue, and licking a long stripe from his balls to his tip. You once again feel your orgasm washing over you and cum shakily down on Jeongins face, he gleefully takes your hips in his hand helping you ride out his orgasm. You pull yourself shortly after to keep yourself from falling into full overstimulation, Hyunjin still lies between your boyfriend's legs, bringing Jeongin close to his own orgasm. Jeongin lifts his head up just enough to watch him shove Hyunjin’s head further down on his cock once more, holding him in place while he empties himself into his mouth. Out of breath, Innie lays there while Hyunjin slowly pulls his mouth off, letting Jeongins cum drip down out of his mouth back into his cock.

Panting, out of breath laying next to Jeongin, you hug his arm leaning your head on his shoulder. He smooths your hair down kissing your forehead muttering an ‘I love you’. The bed shifts when you feel Hyunjin lie next to you, you're all worn out, tired, and sore. Jeongin is the first to move with shaky legs, he makes his way to the bathroom to run a bath for you. Hyunjin is holding you in his arms, his head is pressed into your shoulder.

“I love you… I love you both so much… this won’t ruin us right?”

You roll over in his arms to look at him, Hyunjin had tears welling in his eyes. You knew him better than anyone else, his efforts to find a home in someone else’s body were all efforts made in a vain mindset, that sex could somehow fix the hole he had in his heart. He was always going to be in love with you, in love with you both. His heart held as much love for you as it did for Jeongin, someone he was never quite sure would ever reciprocate the love in the same way. 

“No, this changes some things but it’ll never ruin us. Come on, let's shower, we can talk things over in the morning. For now, we can hold on to this moment.”

A tear slips past, you wipe the tear away from his cheek rubbing a soothing thumb over his face. Hyunjin walks to the bathroom first, Jeongin comes back out for a moment. 

“Baby, I think you’re gonna have to help me to the bathroom. My legs feel like jello.” You tell Jeongin as laughs, he’s still hard so his erection still stands tall when he stands in front of you.

“I got you,” He picks you up bridal style, you wrap your arms around his neck. He stops for a moment with you like this. You cup his face and kiss him, a sweet one, a reassurance that you love him. He presses his forehead to yours, “I have so many mixed emotions right now… but I know… I need you both… more then ever.”

“I’m right there with you. Now, let's shower please, I’m begging you.”

After having both of them hold you up in the shower to wash, a cooperative effort to clean up the mess you left behind in the bed, you finally settle under the new sheets and comforter after having to ask the hotel housekeeping for shamefully. You wore one of the many band t-shirts Jeongin had, it was just the right amount of worn to feel soft against hot skin. Hyunjin grabbed spare clothes from his room before returning to the shared room for some much-needed cuddling and aftercare. You’d fall asleep sandwiched between the two of them, Hyunjin pressed to your back and your head on Jeongins chest.

You wake up the next morning to your phone blowing up, Hyunjin and Jeongin both passed out in a comatose sleep. You scramble across the bed to reach the dresser.

"Hello?" You ask groggily.

"Where are you and where is the other half of this band? I'm with the rest at the record companies office and the meeting is in 20 minutes." Yasu's voice is like a splash cold water to your face.

"Oh FUCk-" Your shoving the other two awake, shouting something about meeting and company. They both drop to the floor scrambling to find clothes.

"They'll be there soon maybe 10 minutes, 15 at most." You say as you watch the flee out the door.

"I'll try to stall till they get here... you said "they"... did you?..."

"I took your advice... and that's all I'll say."

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 7: The end of beginnings

genre: angst, fluff, a lot of introspection

word count: 9743 (MY GOD IT'S A LONGER CHAPTER)

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you and spencer finally give into the tension that's been growing between you, but what happens now?

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

This chapter I'm dedicating to @chicaconfundidaycuriosa who makes my day with her hypothesis in the comments <3 thank you all for your support throughout this series!

“You do it.” 

“No!” You gasp, shaking your head so fast you feel like your brain is shaking too. “You do it!” 

“Your entire job is about people, you do it.” He insists, gently nudging you forward, but you don’t bulge. “Y/N, come on, it’s not that scary!”

“I’m not scared, I just hate talking on the phone! You wouldn’t know what’s that like, since you barely use yours.” 

“And now you’re diverging,” He giggles, pushing the phone over the counter to you once again. 

It has been almost thirty minutes of this and that is not really how you imagine spending your morning after all that had happened last night. For a moment there, Spencer’s voice fades to the background and all you can focus on are those beautiful, pink lips. Now that you know how they feel– the perfect balance of chapped roughness and natural softness; not now that you know how he tastes, something so naturally Spencer and minty toothpaste; not now that you know how he sounds when he whispers for more, more more. Not now, not ever.

Took you both some time to come down from the absolute high of acting like teenagers. What had started like a sweet, slow kiss, quickly turned into what teenagers would refer to ‘making out’, and suddenly you two were a little hurricane of hands, lips, and tangles bodies trying to make it to the room. The feeling of his hands on your waist, tugging you closer, pushing you down– “Y/N?”

Your cheeks explode in a fiery red shade when you realise he’s caught you daydreaming. 

Again. 

“Yeah?” Shaking your head slightly, look down at the phone being pushed between you two. 

“Are you going to call her?” 

To be fair, you haven’t really explained everything to him considering how… distracted… you were last night. And then this morning. And even now, mind going not so far away from the kitchen to the room, where absolutely nothing had happened last night. Absolutely. Nothing. Frustration settled after a while, a thrumming hum in the back of your head that never really let you fall asleep. It was only natural that after so long craving this, you had been excited at the thought of finally letting it happen, of allowing yourself to enjoy a moment that had meant as much in your dreams as it did in real life… but then you two made it to the bed. And you laid down. And suddenly, the underlying need behind every push and pull of his perfect lips against yours started to fade, and his hands that explored your body oh so eagerly started to slow down, and before you could say anything, he was backtracking to forehead kisses and getting up to brush his teeth. 

Like it had been just another day. 

Just another kiss. 

“I don’t want to,” You whisper back, eyes wide in a vulnerable state that has nothing to do with Abigail or the fact that you are about to hire her to take care of your store. 

This is not even about last night.

This is about this morning. 

This is about the fact that when you woke up, he wasn’t there. His side of the bed was tussled, and the pillows were thrown around, but Spencer was missing. For a moment, your heart sinks. You scramble around the bed, feeling out his side, searching for something, anything, that would give into your dwindling hope of last night not having been a dream, because god knows how many dreams you’ve had of him. But then you hear it, the sound of the shower running and the light humming of a man who has not a single musical bone in his body, and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. 

Then it downs on you. It wasn’t a dream. Spencer kissed you last night, that’s a fact. And now he’s about to come out of the bathroom and you refuse to let the first thing he sees, on such a special morning, be this messy hair, panicked face version of yourself. The way you roll out of bed, rushed to the point of tripping on the blankets and falling on your knees with a hiss, is enough to have you laughing at yourself. Your cheeks blush when you think of facing him so early in the day and despite the excitement of it all, you are nervous. What will he say? What will he do?

Making breakfast seems like a great way to ease your overthinking mind of any incoming anxieties, and it’s a simple matter of action and reaction. 

Action, breaking the eggs over the hot pan. Reaction, frying some eggs. Action, putting the bread in the toaster. Reaction, getting some toast to eat with your eggs. Action–

“Good morning.” Action, Spencer comes out of the shower.

“Good morning,” You call back, looking down at the pan with such an obsessions you barely notice him stopping behind you. 

You do notice his hands landing on your waist, though, and when he turns you around, you can smell the fresh scent of his minty soap he loves so much. His smile calms you a little, and he leans forward, coming down, down, down… until his lips touch your forehead. “Slept well?” He mumbles, reaching behind you for a toast and then walking away to grab his bag from wherever he hid it. Blinking, you can’t even answer his question. Is he fucking teasing you or is he serious? 

Safe to say, you don’t really speak up then nor later, and that’s how you two end up where you are, sitting in front of each other in a stupid battle over who calls who. 

“Why don’t you want to call her?”

Eyes cast down, almost in shame, you shrug. “I…” How do you explain it to him without sounding crazy? “I don’t know, Spence. She makes me feel… weird. Like she knows something I don’t.” 

“Oh sweetheart,” His nice words can’t hide the smile on his face. “It’s just change. And you’re human, Y/N, which means you naturally don’t like change. But it’s okay, I promise. You already asked Garcia to dig as deep as she could and nothing came up as suspicious. You also refuse to entertain the idea of hiring your second choice because you said, and I quote, ‘he grabbed a book with greasy hands.’ So, this is pretty much the only option you have.” 

Great. Instead of a kiss that you crave, you get the dose of reality check you deserve. “Thank you, Spencer,” You grumble, the irony of your words not missing the spot when his smile falters. You grab the phone to dealing the number you’ve been avoiding for so long, but you stop before pressing call. “Fuck.” 

“Y/N–“ The magic of last night is gone when his phone rings and you know he has to go. 

“Go,” You whisper, patting his shoulder with dejection. At this point, the morning is ruined and, to be very honest, he is partially at fault. 

A kiss is not something you would consider casual. You know a lot of people do, and that’s okay; you don’t mind about how other people live their lives. You do, however, care about what Spencer thinks and does, and in your books, kissing you and then ignoring it the next day is simply not acceptable. But then you sit with it for a while, and your brain starts whirring up. Usually, when you open your eyes, the sun is barely up and Spencer’s breathing is regular enough to keep your head going up and down, up and down, up and down. The more you two cuddle, the more you realise you love the sound of his heartbeat– you were yet to see him hurt, but you’ve heard enough stories from past cases that now, whenever you got that little extra confirmation that he is okay, you feel a sense of relief that you can’t really explain. Yet, that morning, when you finally make sense of what the fuck was happening without the your usual warm body next to you, you don’t feel relief. You don’t feel anything, to be very honest, because for a moment, your blood turns cold at the idea that Spencer might have woken up and regretted it all. 

“I feel like I shouldn’t,” He frown, cocking his head to the side in that way that makes you think he’s about to tell you something about yourself that you’ve never asked. “Y/N–“ “Go to work, Spencer,” You repeat yourself before pressing ‘call’. The phone in your ear is enough to keep him from trying to chase you. “Abigail? Hi! This is Y/N, from the bookstore… Yes. Yes, and from the uh, from the building. I’m calling with good news– you seem like the perfect person for the position. You– oh, no, no, it’s okay, you don’t have to bring me anything, it’s fine!”

This is the last thing you need– Abigail and her nosy nature. “What’s going on?” Spencer I next to you and his mouth is so close to your ear you shiver a little when he speaks. 

“Abigail, please, I’m about to go out and– oh, no, my… Spence is going to work. Thank you for offering to bake a cake but I’ll just se you at work, okay? Alright. Yeah, okay, thank you! I’ll be sending you a follow up email with all the information for next steps. Thank you! Have a good day! Bye!”

“Y/N, did Abigail do something to make you uncomfortable?” His hands on your shoulder that hold you at arms length are starting to annoy you. Now he didn’t even want you close? There is more to it and you know it. Above all, you’re not completely illogical, but your brain is working overtime and your heart is hurting, and now every little thing Spencer does will be an issue. 

Fed up with it all, you stomp your feet and walk away. “Go to work, Doctor Reid!” The impetuous way you huff as you turn around and slam the door of his room shut has him gasping, and you can hear if from where you stand, embarrassed by yourself and your ridiculous, childish behaviour. Still, you refuse to go back out there until you’re sure you’ve heard the door closing behind him. 

“Fuck me,” You mutter after you sit there in your own silence. The apartment doesn’t feel the same as it used to anymore. It’s not a matter of coming in and watering his plants anymore. You don’t just walk around looking for clues from the scattered books in his apartment anymore. You actually know things now. You know parts of his life that he had to tell you, parts that you didn’t have to guess, and it actually felt good— he was opening up out of his own volition and now you’ve ruined everything. Maybe you got greedy. Maybe you got greedy for his welcoming arms and whispered pet names. Maybe it all felt too good, and, just like Icarus, you might have flown too close to the sun, and now you are falling, wings melted and ruined. 

Before you know it, you’re already dialling your mom’s number. 

“Mom?” You are sitting on the floor, legs pulled to your chest with a ridiculous pout on your lips, and from the way she laughs on the other side of the line, you think she can hear it. 

“Well, look who it is,” She teases. It’s easy to picture her face when she says that. You two have made a dance out of it, this whole loving sarcasm thing, and she always go first. Naturally, you just follow her lead. “My daughter who forgot I exist.”

“Aw,” You smile, shaking your head in amusement. “Is this my mother? The one who knows how pick up the phone and dial my number if she wants to talk to me?”

You two laugh for a while before she speaks again. “I’m serious, sweetheart, I’ve missed you. I haven’t seen your face in a while and… and your dad misses you too, you know?” The slight sniffle on the other side of the line breaks your heart a little. 

“I miss him too,” You whisper, voice a bit too soft for her not to notice. 

“Y/N, is something wrong? Did something happen?” It’s no surprise your mom panics quickly when it comes to you, specially after everything that happened in New York. “Is it Josh? Did he find you?” 

God, how it hurts that she even has to worry about that. “No, no, it’s not Josh, it’s…” You are yet to tell her about Spencer. And not in the context of this entire situation with Cat, but about Spencer as the wonderful human he is. About his quirks and his love for books and his chess addiction and… and the fact that he has your heart in the palm of his hands and you’re scared. You’re so scared. “I met someone.” 

Her gasp has your eyes shutting– it’s so nostalgic, that noise of motherly surprise, that you can’t help but bask in it. Growing up, you had always been very close to your mother, enjoying days out together on Sundays and always trusting her to keep your secrets safe from the world. She was your biggest fan, too; supported you on everything you did, cheered from you from the sidelines of every game you wanted to try, helped you convince your dad to let you go to parties you never enjoyed. Never had she unfairly punished you, never had she betrayed your trust, never had she treated you with anything but love and pride. Hiding things from her is hard, possibly one of the hardest things you have ever done, and you hate how easy it’s becoming to deflect her questions and ignore her comments, because truly, all you want to do on days like this, where your heart hurts and your spirits dwindle, is to go to her and cry. Is that too much to ask? 

“Tell me about this person,” She immediately shuffles around and you picture her in the same living room you’ve grown up reading book after book. If you have to guess, she has her usual coffee mug next to her, an addiction you blame her for passing onto you, and she’ll throw the old knitted blanket she’s so proud of making over her legs.

“Well, his name is Spencer–“

“Spencer is a good name!” She whispers to herself and you smile. 

“It is,” You agree, stretching your legs in front of you and wiggling your toes, glad to be distracted by anything and everything that gets your mind off of last night. “He is a good guy. My favourite customer, actually. That’s uh, that’s how we met.” 

“At the store? That is adorable!” 

“Yeah, he reads… a lot,” That is the understatement of the century. “He was my first client when I opened up, and we kind of became friends and gotten closer. Then I kind of, uh, started apartment sitting for him, whenever he was away at work and we just–“

“Oh, what’s the apartment like?” 

“It’s… beautiful,” You mumble, looking around with a small smile playing on your lips. “The walls are this pretty shade of green and it’s really cozy? Books all around. I like it here.” 

“Here?” Oh no. “Wait, are you at his house right now?” 

“Yeah,” You mumble, picking the lose threads on the socks you borrowed, one blue and the other purple with polkadots. For the life of you, you couldn’t find matching pairs in his sock drawer. “I’ve been here a lot, lately.” 

“Is he out of town?” 

“No.” The silence that follows speaks volume, and for the first time ever, you realise that your mom might not be just worried. She scared, too; for the daughter she saw so happy one day and then moving cities the next. “Mom?” 

“I– I’m happy for you, sweetie,” Her words are kind, but the edge of hesitation is there. “And you’re not going too fast, right? You said you’ve known him since you opened the store, so that’s a year and something, and–“

The assumption that you are repeating the same mistake you’ve make with Josh annoys you. You’re not the same person you used to be, you’re not like that anymore– needy and blinded by love and all the shinny things it brought you. You’ve come a long way since then, and you know your mother recognises that, you do but… but you’re still embarrassed. Embarrassed about who you were. About who you loved. It’s a bit ridiculous, how whenever one of your parents bring him up, you immediately raise your defences, walls coming up so high you can’t even see over the green field of life that awaits you on the other side. 

“Mom,” You wince when your voice comes out a bit too harsh. “Sorry. Mom, I’m fine. We’re… nothing. I’m here because… because a pipe burst in my apartment and he was kind enough to let me stay at his place.” 

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry sweetie, I didn’t mean to– I mean, I’m glad you have someone to help you out when we’re so far away.”

“I wish you guys were here,” You whisper, slowly getting up to move to the living room. You immediately sit down in the armchair, grabbing your blanket and covering yourself. If you couldn’t hug your mom, this would have to do. “You’d love him.” 

“Yeah? Is he handsome?”

“So handsome,” You giggle, and it’s an instinct, looking to the side table in search of that familiar frame of Spence and his team at a fancy dinner. You love his smile when he’s happy, so wide and taut that it almost looks like he has too much emotion in proportion to his body. “And he’s so kind, mom. He’s kind, and gentle, and oh so smart. A genius, really.”

“Of course he has to be a genius to keep up with you and the hundreds of books you read in a year,” Her reply is comical when you think about it. The idea of Spencer having trouble keeping up with you, and not the other way around, makes you laugh. “So why do you sound so sad, if he’s such a great guy? He’s treating you good, right?”

“He treats me amazingly, it’s just that… we kissed last night.” 

“And it was bad?” Her teasing makes your shoulder relax enough until you are melting onto the chair. “That’s why you’re sad?”

“Mom! No!” Cringing, you hug the throw pillow closer. “It was great. Amazing, even! It’s just that it was our first kiss and then this morning he just… didn’t do it again.” 

“Oooohhh, I see what’s going on,” She chuckles. “You expected him to talk about this and he didn’t, did he?”

“How do you know?” 

“Because you dad was the same way–“

“Oh gross, no, no, no!” You refuse to fall onto this freudian trap. “I’m not dating my dad!” 

“Wait, so you guys are dating? Is this you telling me you have a boyfriend?!”

“No!” Groaning, you know you’re between a rock and a hard place. There is no escape anymore, and you have to come clean. “I don’t know! We kissed, but then he didn’t talk about it this morning and he just left like nothing happened, and and– and yesterday, he didn’t even say he likes me! I’m too old to be on this whole will-they-won’t-they thing, mom! I need verbal confirmation!” 

“Well, have you asked him? Or told him how you feel? Or tried to start a conversation?” 

Squinting at the phone, you huff, incredulous at her insinuation. Her correct insinuation. “Mother! Whose side are you on?”

“Always yours,” Your mother laughs. “Which is why I’m saying talk to him. If he won’t start the conversation, do it yourself. I raised an independent young woman, and this is the perfect time to prove it.” 

You wait a second before sighing. “I’m scared.”

“Of what, sweetie?” 

“Of everything. Of what happened before. Of it happening again.”

“Y/N,” Your mother say and suddenly you think you’re about to get scolded through the phone. “You can’t be afraid of your future because of one mistake you made in the past, sweetheart. I– I’m sorry we didn’t notice. I’m your mother, I should’ve noticed, I should’ve said something, and I’m never going to make that mistake ever again. So I’m saying something now. You haven’t sounded this excited about pretty much anything in a while. You… You sound like how you used to be. But better.” 

“Mom,” There is no one to witness the way your lower lip trembles at her words. Back then, you thought you were doing a good job keeping your parents safe from it all– you thought you were good at hiding the tiredness with makeup and the miserable tone of your voice with sweet high pitched laughter. None of your parents ever talked about what was happening, either. They didn’t ask questions like how your mom does now; they didn’t see past the beautiful necklaces, the pretty dresses, and the important parties. They were blinded, much like you were, with the fake promises of a happiness that never came. And now here you are, scared out of your mind to jump into this again, and yet, everything fades away when your mom guarantees you she’ll never let this happen again. As grown as you are, nothing reassures you more than your mom– your biggest fan and your biggest protector. 

“I’m scared too,” She whispers, like she’s telling you her biggest secret. “I’m scared my baby will hurt again and I won’t be there to help. I’m scared I’ll never be able to visit. I’m scared about a lot of things when it comes to you, sweetie. But I prefer to focus on the silver linings.”

Ah. So that’s where you get if from. “And what are the silver linings here?” 

“You being you,” It’s as simple as that for her. “And that’s all I really want.” 

For about an hour, you two stay on the phone, chitchatting about the randomise things. It’s no secret that you miss New York– the bustle of people, the endless lights, the pollution and its grey hue in the air. God, you miss it a lot, but what you miss the most is the ease of everything. Moving around is quick, whatever you need you just need to turn the corner and a deli will surely have it, and, above all, whenever you want to see your mom and dad, all you have to do is take the express from the Upper east side down to Midtown and you’re there. You’re at the same small apartment you grew up in, the same brick walls, the same loud neighbours, hell, even your room still looked the same as you left it! But that’s not what you need right now, even though you would love to see your old room with such new eyes… what you need is that feeling of warmth spreading through your chest when it dawns on you that you are home.

“Mom, I have to go,” You finally say. “But let’s talk more often, okay? I miss you and dad a lot.” 

“We miss you too, sweetie. I love you.” 

“Love you too,” Hanging up the phone is harder than you expected it to be, but you don’t have a lot of time to suffer in silence. 

Spencer is a man who naturally avoids all forms of technology. He is not the biggest fan of computers and cellphones, and whenever he texts you or calls you, you feel like you’re winning in life. You’re the exception to his firm, firm rule. But for work purposes, he had explained, he had to be reachable at all hours, meaning Spencer has something you haven’t see in ages– a landline phone. When it starts ringing, that nostalgic loud, shriek of a ring that never fails to make you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack. 

Instinctually, you reach for it as if you are the one expecting a call. It would be so easy to just pick up the phone and say Dr. Reid’s residence, how may I help you? Yet, you don’t. You stop yourself just as the tips of your fingers touch the phone and you pull back. This is exactly what happened last time– a box for him and the consequences ending up being yours to face. Since then, you’d like to think you’ve grown smarter, and so you let it go to voicemail. 

“Hello, Dr. Reid, this is Nurse Kenny from Bennington Sanitarium. I’m calling about your mother.” 

Somehow, this still feels like facing the consequences for something you didn’t do. 

—————————————

 In your defence, you did try calling Penelope before panicking. You called her, you called Spencer, you even called the BAU hotline in a feverish desperation to reach your boy wonder. All the hurt from that morning, all the pain and the insecurities immediately fly out the window as soon as the nurse hangs up with a final call me when you can. 

“Fucking hell,” You push your way through the crowd trying to make out of the subway station, everyone rushing through the steps to finally be set free in the loud streets of Washington, and if it was any other day, you might have taken the time to enjoy it. The sun is high, the air is cold, and the smell of coffee reaches you almost instantly. 

But there is not time to be happy when all you can think about is Spencer– his face crumpling up in that way it does whenever it goes uncharacteristically serious, his brows furrowed in worry, his hands frozen in place like the rest of his body. It kills you being the deliverer of bad news. It’s something you have always tried to avoid, ever since you were a tiny little girl and you had to tell your friends that no, you didn’t like My Little Ponies and then later on that also no, you didn’t want to go to that party. The disappointment in their faces always makes you crumble, give in, give up, anything to see them smile again. 

This time around, you can’t do that. You can’t give up, or tell him something he wants to listen to instead. This has to do with his family, and you don’t know anything about his family– so you know they mean a lot to him. Oddly enough, it’s one of his little weird habits that you find the most endearing; for someone that talks a lot, when it comes to the people he loves, Spencer doesn’t talk at all. Maybe this is the price to pay to work at the BAU… when the most despicable and inhumane people in the world know his name, he has to do everything in his power to not let them find out any other. 

“Ma’am, where do you think you are going?!” The security guard approaching you is, to say the least, terrifying. You forget that you have to sign up, so uses to walking in with Officer Kaper and his badge, except this time around, you didn’t have time to call him. You did everything Spencer told you not to do, and he will lecture you on it later, you just know he will, though you don’t really care about it, as long as he talks to you after this, you don’t care about what words come out of his mouth. 

Because sure, it was an accident– listening to the nurse’s message was an accident– but you still did it. There is no hiding it, you did it and my god, you feel terrible about it. Feels like something akin to looking through his phone while he is in the shower, close to searching through his letters at home, similar to reading through the annotations in his books. This is private. It wasn’t enough to be living at his apartment? Sleeping in his bed, stealing his clothes? You also had to go ahead and listen to his private messages? “I’m here to see Dr. Spencer Reid,” You say, lower lip trembling at the thought of a possible confrontation with this man. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but it’s urgent, I need to see him, I need to talk to Spence, he’s not picking up his phone and–“

“Do you have a form of identification? You have to sign in,” When he takes a step closer, you immediately shrink back, shoulders hunching forward in a tense attempt to cover yourself from his eyes. 

“Of course, yes, I’ll… sign in, but can you– I’m so sorry, but can you call Penelope Garcia? She is the BAU’s tech analyst, I think. She has a lot of computers and–“

“Get in line.” 

It’s an order more than a request, and you consider telling him to fuck off. Your nerves are high and you feel a sense of urgency that you have only felt one time before in your entire life– and that was when you moved to D.C. The thing no one tells you about signing in into the FBI is that is practically impossible. People like to think that all you need is a government issued ID, and technically, they are right– there is nothing else you can provide them other than you driver’s license, but the hoops they have to go through to grant you access add another ten minutes or so onto the wait that is already killing you. 

Until the clerk says, “Here you go, ma’am,” And gives you your visitor’s pass like it’s nothing. 

Like it doesn’t hold the weight of the world for you then, as you shove it into that stupid guard’s face and runs to the far left end of the hallway. At this point, you’ve been at the building enough times to know how to get upstairs, but despite the faint familiarity of it all, you continue to feel displaced and singled out whenever those beige walls surround you. Your oversized cream sweater is like a beacon of light in such a dim office, but it serves its purpose to keep you warm against the powerful air conditioner in there. How Spencer gets anything done under those circumstances, you don’t know, but the shivers travelling up and down your arms are enough to keep you alert and on the look out for the most likely presence to see– your favourite bright pink, bleached blonde geek. 

“Excuse me, can I help you?” He’s wearing a suit, much like the ones Agent Hotchner wears and you have to hold back tears. It’s all very intimidating, knowing that at any point one of these people could find you suspicious and start asking you questions. 

“Uh, y-yeah, I guess you can,” Clearing your throat, your hand squeeze the shoulder of your bag tighter, and when his eyes move to look at the slight movement, you know he’s a part of the BAU. You know he’s reading you like Spence does. “I need to find Dr. Spencer Reid,” Saying his full name still feels odd to you. “Could you maybe tell me where he is?” 

“Oh? Reid?” This expression you know– surprise. “Are you his girlfriend or something?” 

“His girlfr– I uh– I mean, I–“ It takes a moment for you to realise that if you say no, then you have to explain to this stranger what you really are to Dr. Reid, and that is a can of worms you rather not open right now, so instead of being honest like you always try to be, you blush and nod. “I uh, yeah. I am.” 

“Oh wow!” His genuine shock to the news ticks you off a little. It’s not all that crazy that Spencer would have a girlfriend, considering his charming awkwardness and his bright, beautiful smile. “He never mentioned a girlfriend before, I didn’t–“

“Is he here or not?!” You kind of shriek, widening your eyes in hopes to make him pity you enough to move on with this a bit faster. 

“No, he isn’t. I think his team just left for the tarmac, they got a case in this morning and–“ 

His voice fades to the background easily, your anxiety peaking through with that annoying ringing in your ear. Spencer left to another state and didn’t call you. Logically, you know that his job and his feelings for you, however good or bad they might be, are not connected. Logically, it is easy to make that distinction. However, you are not a logical person all the time. You are not a genius like he is, and sometimes, you let your heart lead; you let your emotions take over like a tsunami inside of you, crashing and crashing and crashing, until you are nothing but a crumble of what you once was. 

You are ready, too. Ready to give up and delay the inevitable until the nurse can reach him directly, until you’re not the one having to panic, until he can deal with this personally. Consider it an addictive habit of a you of many moons ago, a Y/N who let things go to protect herself and avoid unnecessary confrontation. Confronting Josh was never the best option, so you had to come up with strategies. Plans, schemes, lies. You hate that you’ve become good at those, hate that all the work you’ve done to leave those behind is now at risk, but something deep inside of you can’t let this go. 

Something that you know very well is the need to make Spencer proud. The need to be there for him after all the times he was there for you. It’s your time to be the hero. 

“Call Hotchner.” 

There is a harshness in your voice that is very much planted there. The same goes for the twitch of your brows, the bite to the inside of your cheek, the averting gaze to the floor. It’s time to tell the story the profiler wants to read, and you double down when you let out an exasperated sigh, pushing your disheveled hair back. “I need you to call Hotchner and get Spencer back here right now.” 

You shouldn’t want to laugh with how he fumbles with his phone, quickly dealing the boss’ number, but all amusement is gone when he mumbles something about an Spencer’s girlfriend and passes the phone to you. “He wants to talk to you.” 

“Oh god… hello?” You say, voice wobbling a little. 

“Miss Y/L/N?” In the background, you can hear some chatter and nothing else. Are they in the jet already? Have you failed? “Is everything alright? Why are you in the office?”

“I am truly sorry, sir,” You gulp down, glancing at the man in a silent request for some privacy. “But I need to speak to Spencer. He is not answering his phone and it’s an emergency. Penelope wasn’t answering either, so I thought I could come find her, but SSA Greenberg asked me if I needed help and–“

“Is that why you told him you were Spencer’s girlfriend?” 

“Family emergency trumps everything,” You explain, the heavy weight of you guilt settling in. For some reason, you think you got Spencer in trouble. 

“Miss Y/L/N, is this about your case? We explained that we would have cases alongside–“

“Sir, it’s his mother. I don’t know the details, but there was a call and they asked him to call them back as soon as possible.” 

The eery silence that follows has you holding your breath. You are not sure how much his team knows about the intricacies of his personal life, but they surely know more than you do, considering the immediate rustle you hear on the other side of the line.

“We’ve just arrived at the tarmac. I’m sending send Reid and Garcia back to help us from there,” Agent Hotchner says, voice dripping with authority. “Wait for him there. Tell Officer Kaper he will be relived as soon as Reid arrives.” 

“Office Kaper is… not here.”

“…We will discuss this later. They should be arriving in twenty.” 

“Okay. Okay, good,” You breathe out loudly. “Thank you, sir.” 

Once the call ends, once you give SSA Greenberg his phone back and evade all the questions he has about you and Spencer, once you push down the wave of relief that almost makes you fall to the ground… you make your way to Penelope’s office. You need credentials to walk into her lair, it’s not as simple as just opening a door– she is the gatekeeper of all things confidential, and you know not all people are authorised to walk in. The fact that this is the same woman who has invited you over for wine night and got so drunk she couldn’t stop talking about the one time she walked in on Morgan showering is actually insane. The Penelope you know can’t keep a secret for her life, but then again, this is not Penelope’s office. This is Garcia’s lair, and you need to remember that these are fundamentally two different people. Just like Spence and Dr. Reid. JJ and Jennifer. Prentiss and Emily. All of them had managed a level of separation that seemed practically impossible to you, leaving work outside of their homes in a perfectly packed box by the door. It makes you wonder, though, if when he walks out the door to go to the office, he leaves you behind in a box inside. 

Compartmentalising is not something you did well. You tried, back when you first arrived in Washington, at the recommendation of your therapist, but you seemed to struggle more than normal. At your core, you believe in honesty, in transparency, and despite everything you’ve been through, you never gave up on yourself, on your core self, not the self you’ve created to appease Josh. Though you did forget about her, for a while. Distracted by your new life, you missed your old self like you miss old high school friends; remembering the good old times but still doing nothing to reach out. 

Just like you told your mom, you’re scared it will happen again. That you’ll lose yourself in the beautiful world of Spencer Reid and lose sight of what matters– yourself. You might have learned this way later in life than you should have, but a relationship is a two way road and now you know that. Now, you want to know that, you want Spencer to show you that. There is a kind of romance in how he leaves books for you to read next to the armchair, a certain indication that he knows what you like. A type of care in how he buys the shampoo and conditioner you mentioned you liked one time almost eight months ago. This is where you are trying to meet him at, ordering the rare books he’s so desperate after through your unique contacts. Making him breakfast before work. Unfolding the corners of his books. Even though you express yourself better with words than actions, you don’t miss the way his eyes sparkle a little extra whenever he sees his coffee mug filled up for him first thing in the morning or how he always pretends to be caught off guard when you bring him a surprise book from the store. Spencer can read you like he has been born to do so, and yet, he still played along. For you, he’d always play along. 

Which is why, when they found you sitting on the floor next to Garcia’s office, he plays along. “Are you more comfortable there than sitting on my desk?” 

His casual tone shocks you a little bit. Scrambling to your feet, you meet him and Penelope halfway. “Spence!” You gasp, hands stretching out to touch him, feel him, ground him, anything. You just need to make sure he is paying attention, the hands on his biceps squeezing it slightly. “Spence, you need to call your mom! Something happened, and I tried calling you guys but you weren’t picking up, so I came here to tell you that you need to call her, you–“

“Y/N,” Spence whispers in that way that makes your heart speeds up. His eyes are stuck to yours, shinning with something you’ve seen before, something you’ve seen last night. “Y/N, my mom is okay. Hotch told me to call her as soon as he sent us back, she’s okay, everything’s been handled. Are you okay? Sweetheart, you’re sweating…” 

Garcia’s gasp falls onto deaf ears as you and Spencer lose yourself in each other. “I was nervous,” You mumble, trying to pull away and dab at your forehead, but he’s on it. His hands catch you by the elbow and gently bring you closer into what slowly turns into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Spence, I didn’t mean to listen to the message, I swear I didn’t, I was just there and the machine–“

“I know,” He nods his head distractedly and gently wipes you clammy skin with the wrist of his sweater. “I know, Y/N, you don’t have to apologise. Thank you for coming all the way here to look for me just to tell me to call my mom. I truly appreciate it.”

“Of course I would,” There is something building between you two, a tension very familiar to you now that you’ve been watching it pile on for the past couple of weeks. 

For Penelope, though, it is certainly news. 

“OH MY GOD!” 

Snapped out of the trance of those honeyed eyes, you turn to look at your blonde friend with a pale complexion. “Pen, no–“ 

“OH MY GOD, YOU TWO BONED!” 

“What?! No! Absolutely not!” Spencer takes a step back from you like he’s suddenly troubled by thought of being that close to you, and you can’t really hide how your heart breaks a little at that. 

“Yeah… apparently absolutely not,” You repeat, coming back down to your harsh reality since the bubble burst.

“What– What just happened?” She utters, but you don’t really give her a chance to develop her line of thought, grabbing the access card from her hand and swiping it through the reader to unlock her door. “Wait, wait, what–“

“I’ll stay here with Pen,” You say without looking back at Spencer. Your job here is done and until Officer Kaper can come pick you up, you know they won’t let you leave the building. “I’ll call Mike for a ride, so don’t worry about me going back alone. I–“

“He’s not here?” Spencer asks, looking around with that adorable confused frown of his. “Wait, Y/N, did you come here by yourself?! Didn’t we talk about–“

“No Spencer, we didn’t! We didn’t talk about a lot of fucking things, and then you left off this morning like you didn’t want to talk about it and, and, and I was panicking, okay?! You didn’t pick up the phone and I’m a big enough girl to take the subway alone!” Your voice certainly raises enough to have people looking at you two, and your cheeks fire up in embarrassment. You are causing a scene at his workplace, and in your opinion, that is unacceptable. Gulping, you look down, tugging Penelope into her sacred space and closing the door behind you. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. I’m really sorry.” 

“Y/N, wait–“ But the door closes midway through his sentence and despite him having access to enter, he knows better than to press on a sore spot. 

The worst part is that you kind of want him to. And you hate that part of yourself that wants such a reactive behaviour from this peaceful man. Spencer does plenty to show you he cares, even if he does it in his own quiet, subtle way, and that is enough for you. Fuck, that should be enough for you. Yet somehow, nothing seems to shut up that voice in your head telling you that yes, he is enough… but you aren’t. In your overthinking mind, you know that you are too average for Spencer. You’d never be able to keep up with him, with his spectacular brain and his humble attitude. At best, all you offer him are books, some observations here and there, and a warm body to hug at night. At worst, you’re a burden to a man who already carries the entire world on his shoulder. 

“You two?!” Penelope’s dramatic gasp is enough to put a pause on your pity party. “Boy genius and you?!” Scoffing, you sit down on the chair she pulled for you. “I know… sounds ridiculous, right? I mean, the man is a genius and I’m… well-read at best.” 

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, we’re not going there,” Barely does she know you’re already there, that you’ve been there this entire morning. “What happened? Last time we talked, it was a crush and nothing else! And now you and boy wonder are ‘sweetheart’ing each other and the forehead kiss was just so adorable and–“ 

“We kissed.” 

The way it comes out to her, unlike how it did with your mom, is a confession rather than a posing issue. It makes your heart race and your sad face lifts for a second, enough to let a giggle escape. This is what friends are for, and you are happy to be living through this again. 

“YOU WHAT?”

“Pen, don’t shout!” You whisper, looking at the door like it’s about to slam open at any second. “What if someone hears?” “Would that matter?” She laughed. “You basically told the biggest gossip in the FBI that you are Spencer’s girlfriend.” 

“Oh my god,” You groan. Slowly getting comfortable in your chair, you pull your legs up to your chest and let your head fall on your knee dramatically. “He’s going to hate me.” 

“Now why on Earth do you think that? I’m pretty sure Spencer has had wet dreams of you calling him your boyfriend.” 

“Penelope!” It’s suddenly way too hot in her office, your entire body flushing instead of just your cheeks. “You are wrong, by the way… He had a whole dinner planned, you know? He was turning his apartment into the perfect date when I got back home, and he was cooking and he looked so good, Pen, so, so, so good and we just– I mean, it just happened! And then…”

Penelope is holding onto your every word, perfectly painted lips biting on her fluffy pink pen. “And then…?” Her wiggly brows are a dead giveaway of where her dirty, dirty mind is going. 

“And then, just as we get to the room…” You repeat, leaning forward as if you’re about to tell her the biggest secret of your life, only to deflate right after. “He pulls away, kisses me on the forehead, and goes to sleep.” 

“No!”

“Oh yeah,” You sigh, body crumbling in a defeated lump of limbs. “And then this morning? Nothing. Nada. Not even a peck on the lips as a ‘good morning’.”

“Oh wow,” She says after a moment. You find some comfort in how she seems as wordless as you were early today. “Oh wow, that’s… wow. It’s impressive, but it’s not shocking. Still, it’s… wow.” 

“Not shocking?” You shriek. “It’s very shocking!” 

“Oh, sweet pumpkin,” There is so much comfort in the clicks and clacks of her heels when she gets up and comes to give you a hug. Admittedly, Penelope’s hugs are much like one of a mother; warm, caring, and all encompassing. It’s enough to heal wounds you didn’t even know you had, like she is searching your soul the same way she searches the web for evidence– with expertise. “I sometime forget you’ve never known little boy genius when he was, well, little. Our pretty boy over there is not… the best with people.” 

“That’s mean, Pen,” You sigh, frowning a little. He might not say much about his feelings, and sure, sometimes Spencer is quite reserved to his own mind in a way that makes you think he assumes people won’t really understand what’s going on up there, but never has Spencer made you feel uncomfortable or bad about yourself. Saying he is ‘not the best with people’ actually upset you because despite a couple of hiccups here and there, Spencer is great with you. He remembers everything you say you like or dislike, he cares about your opinions even though sometimes you feel like you’re just saying the obvious, he is gentle with his touches and hugs. “Spencer is amazing, he’s always so careful with everything and everyone, and he’s so kind, and gentle, and considerate. He’s just too in his head sometimes, but that’s okay! So am I, so is everyone, you know?”

“It’s so cute how you’re quick to jump to his defence,” She teased, shaking you a little by the shoulders. “I know he’s all of that, trust me. I would die for Spencer– no, that’s too easy. I would kill for Spencer, and I actually almost did once! And–“

“Wait, what?!”

“And what I’m trying to say is not that he is a bad person, but that he can get a bit awkward. Try to think from his perspective, Y/N, the kid went to college when he was 14. All those crazy life experiences we had in college, he didn’t. And then he joined the FBI, and time just… got away.” 

“Are you trying to tell me Spencer Reid is a virgin?” You gasp, mouth hung open in surprise, because from the little action you two had going last night, you would not have betted on that. 

“God, no… or at least I don’t think so, but what I am trying to tell you, my cute bookworm, is that his experience is… limited to a couple of people. Very different people. One of his exes was a famous actress kind of people. They did long distance every single time kind of people.” 

Little by little, the engines in your brain start turning, and things start making sense. “He never… had a proper relationship?” Somehow, this makes it feel like all that weight that is sitting on your chest, the pressure of figuring everything out by yourself, the racing thoughts that can’t leave you alone… it’s all gone. All easing up in a lighter mist of confusion and sadness. 

Her curls bounce around her face when she shakes her head. “Not that we’ve known. So just… god, please give him a chance. He’s a good egg, a perfect egg, even! Just a bit confused with his own brain and, and, and he’s probably wondering what’s the proper procedure from here on out! He’s probably confused and wondering what to do and– and he’s so happy, Y/N. This morning, he couldn’t stop smiling. He didn’t tell  

Morgan to shut up when he made sex jokes. He didn’t hog the coffee machine. It was like he was in his own little world and it was so cute to see him finally acting like the boy he should have been all along. I don’t want to see that go away.” 

Penelope Garcia has a tell that you are pretty sure she doesn’t know about. It usually peek through her desperate rambles that you love so much, squeezing her voice out of her until she’s barely speaking. You know she’s self-conscious about her rambles, the amount of times she has apologised to you enough proof of it, but when she starts feeling guilty, like she’s staying something she shouldn’t have been, Penelope’s voice dies down, to the point that her mouth is moving but no sound is coming out.  

“Pen…” 

“I know you like him,” The intensity of her eyes behind her glasses is enough to have you looking away. “I know you do, you like him so much that you broke your security protocol and ran to the FBI to tell him that he needed to call his mom. Please don’t give up on him.”

“I’m not,” You whisper back, shaking your head so fast your neck hurts a little. “Pen, I’m not giving up on him, I don’t think I ever could. I’m just… insecure. I understand Spence’s experience is unique to him, but mine is unique to me, and I think we’re both in the learning process. I just wish he would’ve talked to me, you know? Spencer kissed me like there was no tomorrow yesterday and this morning he didn’t even acknowledge it. What if he doesn’t want to do it anymore? What if he changed his mind? You know, his brain works too fast and he could’ve thought about all the future scenarios in which this goes wrong and–“

“You know, sometimes you two sound so much alike that it’s scary. I’ll tell you the same thing I told him, get your head out of your ass, it’s not a hat.” 

“Hey!”

“Your intrusive thoughts are shitty!” 

“That is a really weird way to put it–“

“What are you two talking about?” Turning to look at Spencer, you’re surprised to see him all packed up with his satchel hanging by his side. You deflate a little at how ready he is to leave, thinking he’s going back to the tarmac to meet up with the team wherever they are, but he beats you to the punch. “Y/N, ready to go home?” 

“Oh,” You scramble to get up, grabbing your bag and your visitor’s pass and then nodding. “Yeah, I guess. Are you coming with?”

“Yeah, I told Hotch I’d be working from home in case my mom’s nurse called again,” He gives you that tight-lipped smile you love so much and you kind of swoon. 

“Alright,” You give Penelope a hug goodbye and from then on, you find yourself in the longest stretch of silence you’ve ever been before. 

The tension is there, taut enough that you feel like your stomach is being pulled out of your body every time he sucks in a breath a bit too hard or opens his mouth just to close it again. Every time, you think he’s going to initiate the chat, and, every time, he doesn’t. It disappointment after disappointment, and by the time you two make it back to his place, yo can’t keep it in anymore. “Spence,” You call softly, letting him open the door the the building without rush and following him inside. As per usual, he’s quick to let you lead, gesturing politely for you to go up first. “Spence, we need to talk about last ni– Abigail, what are you doing here?”

You’re not even at the top of the stairs when you see her, all sweaters and ponytails standing by your door. “Oh, hi boss!” Her joke makes you cringe a little, but you smile nonetheless. You must’ve done something to alert Spencer of how uncomfortable you actually are, his hand sneaking to grab yours as he squeezes past you to stand one step above, body almost covering yours completely. “Oh. Hi.” 

Her tone change is obvious even to your layman ears, and you squeeze Spencer’s hand in nervousness. “Abigail, right?” He asks, a small smile playing on his lips as if he’s trying to be nice, though the squint in his eyes tells a whole other story. “Good to see you again. Did you move in okay?” 

“Yeah,” The way she moves her head to the side, trying to get a glimpse of you, has red flags raised all up in  your head. “All moved in and ready to start work on Monday!”

“I’m happy to hear you’re excited, Abigail!” You reply with a forced chuckle, climbing the extra step to stand side by side with Spence. Your hands are intertwined behind his back, his fingers playing with yours, and if it’s to keep you calm or himself, you don’t know. “I’m excited for you to start at the store, too. Is there anything you need, though? I know I said I’d send you a starter email and a draft of a schedule, but I just haven’t had the time today. I’ll work on it as soon as I can!”

“Oh, no, no, no hurry!” Once she can see you, it’s like her whole persona changes. She’s bubblier when she’s talking to you, shoulders less tense and voice less tense. “I was just coming here to bring you this. It got delivered to my apartment by accident, but it has your name on it.” 

From behind her back, she pulls a brown package. It’s small and thin, and it doesn’t seem so have any logo on it. “Y/N, are you expecting something?” Spencer whispers, eyes not leaving Abigail’s hand and for a second you let yourself panic enough to believe she’s carrying a bomb. It felt like she was carrying a bomb. Like it was going to blow up and your entire life, your entire re-construed life with Spencer by your side, and everything would soon come crumbling down. 

“N-No,” You stutter back and your body goes frigid cold when Abigail takes a step forward to you two, arms stretched out to give you the package. “Oh my god, no, no, no one knows I’m–“

Quickly grabbing the box, Spencer wastes no time in getting you inside the apartment. “Thank you so much for bringing this, Abigail, but we really have to get home. As promised, you’ll hear from Y/N soon on that starter email. Have a great rest of your day!”

“Wait, I wanted to talk to Y/N about–“ The loud slamming of the door drowns her words out. 

Before even looking your way, Spencer is on the phone. “Hotch,” He breathed out, eyes wide in that crazed way that you’ve only see once before, in your shop when he had his gun out. “She found Y/N.” 

You know you can’t call this an ending, not when you two never even had a begging…

“We have to relocate her.” 

But it surely feels like one. 

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

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What We Don’t Say Chapter 2: Kang Haerin from Arae

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Kang Haerin x Male OC

Tags: fluff, angst, slowburn, romcom, kpop idol x male oc

Words: 3.1k

Chapter 2

“You’re a celebrity, huh?”

In which Jay gets to know the cat girl who stares at him in a good way… according to him, at least. 

Lee Hyunjae

Sometimes I wonder if I did something in my past life to offend the bald-headed demon in our school. 

Relax, I’m just joking… kind of. 

Who am I referring to? Take a wild guess. Not a day goes by that I don’t cross paths with him, and without fail, he always has something to say.

“Your hair’s getting too long, Lee Hyunjae. Cut it by tomorrow.” 

“Where’s your tie, Hyunjae? It’s part of your school uniform, put it back on now.” 

“How many times is that now? This is the third consecutive week where you’ve been late every single day.” 

Okay, maybe some of those comments were warranted. I’m not exactly winning “Model Student of the Year.” But even when he’s nagging me about my earrings or the sweatpants I sneak into uniform rotation (they’re just so much more comfortable), I know Mr. Choi’s just doing his job. A little too enthusiastically, maybe — but it’s not like he actually hates me. In fact, if I’m being honest, I think he might be one of the only adults in this school who actually gives a shit. Case in point — just a few seconds ago: “A minute late to school, as usual,” he sighed, already eyeing my outfit.

He went straight for the ear check. “Earrings. Again. That’s your fifth strike this week, and it’s only Wednesday. You trying to break your own record, Lee Hyunjae?” Classic Mr. Choi. Equal parts exasperation and sarcasm. 

A few other latecomers around us snickered under their breath. I rolled my eyes instinctively and brushed them off — people love to talk when they don’t know anything. I’ve learned to let it slide. Words don’t sting as much when you’re used to hearing worse at home. 

As I scanned the school grounds, my eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar girl pointing in my direction where I was standing. My close friend and the resident ray of sunshine in the school, Danielle Marsh, was with a not-so-familiar girl next to her. I waved at Danielle before she finally noticed me. 

“Third time this week?” she called. Wow, so I really am only known in this school for my demerit record, huh. 

“Nope, fourth. You forgot Monday—I got caught riding Bull to school,” I responded, referring to the motorcycle I bought with the money my mom left me, because I loved the feeling of riding into the wild with no destination in mind. Well, I worked a part-time job on weekends, so the purchase was worthwhile anyway. 

I noticed the other girl staring at me. I couldn’t really tell from a distance, but it almost looked like she was meticulous with her blinking, in a slow, perceptive, calculating manner, almost like a…cat? It seemed like a ridiculous comparison, but the more I took notice of her features, the more I could see the similarities. 

I saw her turn around and exchange a few words with Danielle, who responded with her signature hearty laugh. Looks like they were hitting it off. 

“Quit staring and get moving to class, Hyunjae. You’re already 5 minutes late.” I looked around, realising that all the other latecomers had already left for period 1. 

As I grumbled and started walking towards my homeroom, a hand grabbed my arm, and I turned to face a worried-looking Mr Choi, an expression I’d already gotten used to from him. 

“Wait, Jay.” 

Oh shit, even his tone was more concerned than usual. 

“If you’re still having problems at home, please reach out. You and I both know what he’s like when he drinks.”

I snorted. “When isn’t he? These days, I think he’s spared more glances at bottles of soju than Hyein, and she’s literally always at home.” 

Mr. Choi sighed again, more defeated than ever. “God knows what happened after graduation… That accident must’ve changed him. Anyway, keep your chin up and look after your sister. It’s what your mother would’ve wanted.”

With one final nod, he turned and walked back toward the front office. I stood there for a second longer, watching him go. 

Mr. Choi and my parents went way back. They all went to the same college, and from what I heard, my mom used to copy his notes in every class. It’s funny, really — he’s probably been scolding me since before I was even born. 

As I made my way towards my homeroom, I noticed Danielle taking the cat girl to the field. ‘Ah, she must be the new transfer,’ I thought to myself as I recalled Mrs Baek mentioning one. The way she stared at me just now intrigued me. Not to toot my own horn, but a lot of people in this school stare at me. Hoobaes staring in admiration, guys that stare tentatively in wary, or teachers with their judgmental, watchful eyes that constantly kept me on my tiptoes. I hated it. Movies always describe the popular kid as someone who basks in the attention, relishing in the glory, but I just didn’t get it. 

To me, attention came with strings. Expectations. Labels. The way they stared as if they weren’t looking at me, but at a version of myself that I didn’t want to be. The constant whispering, the assumptions—they were just exhausting. 

So when the cat girl looked at me like that, like she was trying to figure something out, I didn’t quite know how to feel. There wasn’t fear or admiration in her eyes. It was more like curiosity. Calm, steady curiosity, like she was watching a puzzle solve itself.

And most of all, it didn’t make me uncomfortable—quite the opposite.

🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊

The first thing I heard when I slid open the door and stepped into the classroom was yet another heavy sigh. 

“Lee Hyunjae, if you miss any more lessons, not even the student council president will be able to help you with your grades. Minji-ssi has many other pressing matters to attend to. You might as well kiss your graduation certificate goodbye at that point.” 

Mrs. Baek didn’t even look up from the attendance sheet. She just pointed to my empty seat at the back and scribbled something down — probably another late mark. I gave her a lazy salute, which earned a glare from Minji, seated at the front of the class, who was already diligently colour-coding her notes. 

Of course she was.

Minji’s always been the “get-things-done” type. If I were a storm, she’d be the emergency drill plan taped to the wall: efficient, serious, a little too sharp around the edges. We’ve known each other since middle school; in fact, we even used to be neighbours. 

We used to know everything about each other, but these days, we barely even talk. She’s busy, I know, what with all the student president business or whatever. Not to mention, she has a crazy mom who starts going batshit crazy whenever she places anything below 1st place on the termly exams. 

But I miss how close we used to be.

I still feel responsible for her, a promise I made to her dad when she moved next door. God, I miss the moments I had with her family as well. Spending time at hers allowed me to forget about my actual one back home. 

Of course, she does have Hanni now, her girlfriend of 2 years. They’re great and all, and I don’t want to impose, but I do feel like if I were to start drifting away from Minji even more, I at least want a bit more closure. 

“Don’t let Jay’s tardiness distract you from your grades, class. Back to page 47. There’s gonna be a pop quiz after we finish this topic as well.” Mrs. Baek announced to the class, eliciting groans and moans that grumbled across the classroom. 

I let my chin fall into my palm and stared blankly at the board. Five minutes into the lesson and I was already zoning out. Studying just wasn’t my thing. 

By the time Mrs. Baek flipped to the next slide, I had already made my decision.

I raised my hand. “Can I go to the bathroom?” 

She didn’t even blink. “Five minutes. If you’re gone longer than that, I’m sending Minji to drag you back.” 

Behind me, Minji raised her arm. “Sorry Mrs Baek, but I actually have a council meeting, like… now.” Mrs. Baek finally looked up and took off her glasses. “Oh, I see. Go ahead then.” Then to me, with a glare: “Lucky you, Hyunjae. But longer than five minutes and your detention will be a hundred times longer.” 

At that, I slid out of my seat, shoved my hands in my pockets, and strolled out into the hall, slightly trailing behind Minji, though she went her separate way, probably to the library where the student council held their meetings.

Slipping out of class, with or without permission, had become the daily norm for me. Most of the time, teachers don’t even realise that I’m gone after a few minutes, so I started making use of it. Sometimes I’d go to the gym and hit the bags, or go to my spot and clear my mind. Or I’d sneak downstairs and spy on my little sister, just to make sure that no creepy hoobaes were bothering her. 

You might think I’m a little weird and possessive for doing that, maybe, but I’m genuinely just concerned. Hyein’s all I have, and I just can’t risk losing her. Besides, Mom made me promise to take care of her, and that’s an oath I never intend to break.

“Jay! There you are.” I turned at the sound of Danielle’s voice and found her jogging up with the transfer girl trailing behind her. She was holding a clipboard, half her hair falling out of its ponytail.

‘Huh, that’s the third time I’ve seen them just this morning.’ I brushed that thought off as I focused on Danielle, who looked like she was panicking to the point of explosion.

“I was just about to come looking for you,” she said, slightly out of breath. “I was showing Haerin around, but I totally forgot I have to be at the student council meeting like… now. You know how Minji gets when people are late. Could you take her to the homeroom building for me? It’s the last stop, promise!” 

I looked at her incredulously, “Wait wait wait, that’s it? You’re dumping the new transfer onto me? I’m supposed to have my quiet time now.” I was half-joking, but Danielle’s exasperated look and the cat girl’s unreadable stare made me realise the joke didn’t land.

“Come on, Jay. I’m gonna be late. Help me out just once. I’ll make sure Pham doesn’t bother you with her weird Rocky Balboa impressions whenever you come over during our practice for at least a week.” Danielle was practically begging with pleading eyes. 

“Enticing offer… I’m in. You better hold up your end of the stick, though.” I responded, though really, I genuinely wanted to save Danielle from Minji’s wrath. That girl could really bite your ear off if she wanted to, no boxing reference intended. 

“No problemo, and thanks, Jay. Here, this is Haerin. Haerin, this is Jay, the guy with the earrings you asked about. Jay, try not to corrupt her too fast, please. She’s one of the good ones.” Without another word, Danielle almost glided in the direction of the library. 

“Wow, Minji really has these student council members on a leash, huh?” I glanced at the cat girl, whose name I now knew. The only response I received was a blank stare, the same one I received a while ago when I was standing with my fellow latecomers. She even started blinking slowly, in that same calm, unreadable manner. I was beginning to think it wasn’t just a coincidence.

“Uh... right,” I scratched the back of my neck. I swear I could hear the crickets chirping in the awkward silence. “Guess we better head to homeroom, then.” Still no response, not even the slightest nod. 

“Okay,” I muttered under my breath. “So you’re the quiet type. Cool cool cool, love that for me. Um, do you know which homeroom you’re in?” 

“3-1. Mrs Baek Seong Ja.” 

There it is. I finally managed to hear her voice, though the answer wasn’t what I was looking for, as I cursed under my breath. 

“Shit, you’re in the same homeroom as me.” This was bad; my five minutes were basically up already. “Well, scrap this then, I can’t take you there. Erm, let’s freestyle instead. We’ll go to my favourite spots in school, I’m sure you’ll love them.” 

This finally seemed to form a crack in Haerin’s expression, as for once, she looked just the slightest bit intrigued. 

🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊

“So, uh, Haerin-ssi, right?” I tried my best to make small talk as I brought her along the corridor that led to the boxing gym. I was forcing myself to change my social behaviour just to fit her vibe; I even slowed down my footsteps to make it seem like I wasn’t just dragging her along on this school tour. 

She nodded in response, then halted her steps and looked at me again. ‘There’s that weird stare… she looks like she’s expecting something from me,” I thought to myself. “Is there something you wanna ask—” 

A loud gasp interrupted me. “Holy shit, aren’t you Kang Haerin? From Arae Tuition?”

A short, chubby hoobae with a bowl cut stared at her in awe. “Oh my god, you are her! I see your posters all the time after school at Arae for math!” He fished out his phone and, rudely, snapped a picture before taking off.

I turned to look at Haerin, expecting to see a happy expression on her face for once, since someone recognised her, but instead I was met with one that seemed even colder than the one she usually wore. 

And of course, because of my amazingly timed humour, I just had to crack a joke then. 

“You’re a celebrity, huh? Sign here, please?”

Of course, it landed just as well as you probably expected. I wasn’t hoping for a reaction, but again, she just stared at me. This time though, she almost had a curious look on her face. 

“You don’t recognise me?” She finally spoke for what felt like the first or second time since I officially met her. 

“No, not really. Am I supposed to?” I didn’t know how to feel. Was she one of those uber-popular influencers on social media or something? The kid just now mentioned something about a tuition centre, though, so probably not. “Sorry, I don’t really go for hagwon. I don’t know who you are.” 

Relief thoroughly washed over her face. “No, no, it's fine. It’s better for me that you don’t, actually.” 

I don’t know why, but that sentence evoked a feeling in me. A weird kind of feeling; it was like a flicker. A subtle pulse of recognition. Not of her name, or face, or whatever Arae Tuition poster she might’ve been on, but of the feeling behind her words.

That sense of wanting to go unnoticed. To not be known for the wrong things. To walk into a room and just be, without people already deciding who you are before you even say a word.

Yeah. I knew that feeling.

So I didn’t say anything back for a moment. Just kept walking beside her in silence. She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, for the first time since I met her, her steps fell in sync with mine. Still quiet, still cat-like in her movements, but a little less guarded now. Like maybe I wasn’t a threat. Like maybe I didn’t need to be shut out entirely.

“You don’t like being recognised?” I asked eventually, keeping my voice low.

She looked down at her shoes, then ahead again. “Not like that.”

“Like how then?”

She didn’t answer immediately. I almost thought she wouldn’t at all — until she said, “I want to be known, not remembered.”

I slowed down without even thinking. “…What’s the difference?”

She finally looked up at me. Not blinking slowly this time, not observing. Just… looking. “Being remembered means they’ve decided who you are. Being known means they’re still listening.”

That quieted me more than it should’ve. For a second, I forgot I was supposed to be skipping class. Forgot about Mr. Choi’s warnings, Mrs. Baek’s threats or even Minji’s glare from earlier. I just kept staring at her, this girl who didn’t smile, didn’t flinch, didn’t say much — but who somehow made more sense to me than most people did. 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I get it. People stare like they’re only seeing the outer shell I built. No one sees the real me. Maybe it’s the same for you.”

Haerin looked up at me and opened her mouth to speak before pausing, like she was contemplating whether to open up or not. 

“You can tell me anything, your secret’s safe with me,” I said with a wink, before immediately cringing inwardly. 

It seemed to work, though, as Haerin finally began to speak up.

“My mom, she… She doesn’t see me for who I am. I think to her, all I am is just a machine—a robot that’s able to help her boost her brand. It’s been like that my entire life. She’s been sending me to study at cram school since I could talk, and now it’s all I can do. Regurgitate information on a piece of paper.” 

I didn’t know what to say at first. There was a heaviness in her voice — not sadness exactly, but something duller. Like it had been worn down over time, sanded smooth from too many years of being unheard. 

“And the worst thing is, it’s the same for everyone. They only know ‘Kang Haerin from Arae’.” She gave a small, humourless huff through her nose. “It is what it is, though.” 

In the heat of the moment, I blurted my inner thoughts out without thinking. 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I have the privilege of not knowing her. Kang Haerin from Arae, I mean. To me, you’re some weird cat girl who could probably go undefeated in a staring contest tournament. And that’s who I’m interested in learning more about.” 

For a moment, I wasn’t sure how she’d take it — but then she let out a sound. A laugh, a real one this time. It was a combination of a snort and a chuckle, small but genuine. 

And for someone like her, that was the loudest thing in the world.

Sorry bout the delay, I was kinda in a dilemma on whether I should switch perspectives throughout writing this chapter. Here it is, hope you guys enjoyed it, please leave comments, feedback, advice, constructive criticism or compliments 😉 Any questions about how the story is going to progress are welcome as well, I'd love to share my thought process when writing with you guys.

[stvolanis]

What about rafe with a reader who talks a lot land has a bubbly personality and he’s getting annoyed cause she’s just talking on and on and he’s already in a bad mood and so her just talking he’s getting annoyed and like he makes a comment of “why don’t you stop talking and put your mouth to a better use” (sorry for how badly worded this is)

hi! I kinda imagine this as maybe bestfriend!Rafe who kinda manipulates the reader yk? Also knocking two birds w/ one stone by adding a little bit from a different request, hope you don’t mind!💞

Rafe Cameron! who loves his silly little best friend who he’s had a claim on since 6th grade :). Always so sweet to him when you guys were in school together. Giving him the answers, walking with him to all your classes, rides home after school with you on aux cause how could he ever say no to you? Not to mention the fact that he knew you harbored a little crush on him—

Rafe Cameron! Who knew you were heavily inexperienced in the sexual realm of things, which he made sure of after he beat up every guy who even thought they’d be able to breathe the same air as you. He takes great pride in being able to teach you things no one else will. Of course you’d question it, looking up at him with those pretty doe eyes that make his cock pulse with confusion when you guys were in the back seat of his truck one day. “Rafey, I dunno if we should do this—feels weird.” You muttered, your hand tightly wrapped around his cock with his hand shoved down your pants. “Thought you wanted to take care of me, sweetheart? This is just what best friends are supposed to do.”

Rafe Cameron! Who’s been having an exhaustingly annoying day after another group fight between the kooks and pogues. He’s a little scratched up, moping around your house as you go on and on about why he shouldn’t have fought, what could have happened—and then suddenly trailing off to your favorite pasta shell? It was hurting his head. Too much for him to process as he rubbed his temple, watching you babble mindlessly.

Rafe Cameron! Who finally has had enough of your constant yapping. “God, baby, you ever shut the fuck up? Hm? Jus’ be fuckin’ quiet, little girl.” He hissed through clenched teeth, pinching your cheeks together harshly to cease your talking, yet the way your eyes watered and thighs clenched together didn’t go unnoticed. “Think you jus’ need somethin’ stuffed in there so you’ll shut up. That it?” He mocked. You looked up at him from your knees, confused as to what he was referring to.

Rafe Cameron! Who’s cock slapped against your waiting tongue in a taunting manner. Curved slightly, with trimmed hair at the base and heavy balls. His scent strong, consuming your mind with an aching throb between your thighs you knew only Rafe could help. “Gonna teach you how to suck dick like a pro, kay?” He urged, pushing his fat tip into your mouth, further and further till the sounds of you gagging and gasping for air around him was all he could hear, and tears running down your pretty face was all he could see. “That’s my girl. See? All you needed was some good dick to shut cha’little ass up, huh?” He cooed.

don’t be shy, ask to be a part of the tag list and request things!!

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[mxtxfanatic]

For my own peace of mind, I want to make a post about the difference between the "servant" status between mdzs and tgcf, because I feel like a lot of people conflate Wei Wuxian's position in mdzs with Mu Qing's and Feng Xin's positions in tgcf, leading to incorrect readings for at least one of the novels. For this, I will mostly be using the edited tgcf because it's the easiest raws on hand for me, but know that there is no difference between the edited and unedited versions of tgcf for how they refer to Feng Xin and Mu Qing.

For starters, the type of "servant" that Wei Wuxian is likened to is not actually the same type of "servant" that Feng Xing and Mu Qing were to Xie Lian. Wei Wuxian's father was a 家仆/jiā pū, a manservant (literally translates as "family servant," but seeing how close Wei Changze was to Jiang Fengmian, he was probably closer to Jiang Fengmian's manservant as we would conceptualize of it rather than a generic household servant), and Wang Lingjiao even calls Wei Wuxian a "servant of the Jiang Clan" when she shows up to turn Lotus Pier into a supervisory post:

看见虞夫人的反应，王灵娇很是满意，道："这个魏婴，没记错的话是云梦江氏的家仆吧？..." Seeing Madam Yu’s reaction, Wang LingJiao, quite pleased, said, “This Wei Ying, if I remember correctly, is the Yunmeng Jiang Clan's servant, right?..."

—Chapt. 57: Poisons, me

On the other hand, Feng Xin and Mu Qing were 侍从/shì cóng to Xie Lian, which are attendants or retinue (literally "attendant follower"). The narration as well as other characters explicitly refer to them as such in Book 2:

谢怜早带着两个侍从溜之大吉了。 Xie Lian had carried his two attendants and long stolen away.

—Chapt. 57: A Glimpse at the Grace of Shenwu Main Street 3, me

风信也跟了上来，照理说侍从是要坐车前的, 戚容却拉下了脸, 一扬马鞭, 道：“我让太子表哥上车, 又没让你上来。一个下贱人也想沾我的金车, 还不快滚！” Feng Xin also followed to climb up, as reason states that the attendant must sit at the front of the carriage, but Qi Rong shoved down on his face, raised the horsewhip, and said, “I allowed Crown Prince-biaoge to climb onto the carriage, not you. A lowly person thinks to touch my golden carriage, scram quickly!”

—Chapt. 58: A Glimpse at the Grace of Shenwu Main Street 4, me

梅念卿道：“二人行于荒漠，渴极将死，唯余杯水。饮者生，不饮者死。若尔为神，杯水与谁？——你先不要说话，我问别人，你看看你这两个侍从他们怎么答的。” Mei Nianqing said, “Two people traveling in the desert are on the verge of dying from extreme thirst, and there is only one cup of water. The drinker lives, but the non-drinker dies. If you were a god, who would you give the cup of water to? —Don’t speak first, I will ask the others. You examine how these two attendants of yours respond.”

—Chapt. 60: A Glimpse at the Grace of Shenwu Main Street 6, me

The problem with thinking that these three characters between these two novels are the same type of "servant" is that it tends to obscure the conversation on class in at least one of the novels. In mdzs, the fact that Wei Wuxian is likened to a "family servant" is meant to diminish his role as a brilliant cultivator in the Jiang Clan's martial sect. The fact that the Jiang Clan never explicitly clarifies Wei Wuxian's position in the clan or martial sect to anyone helps to undermine Wei Wuxian's place in the cultivation world and status amongst his fellow cultivators. Therefore, any good that is done for him by his proximity to the main branch of the Jiang Clan can be hand-waved away by claiming it as "charity" done for one who was "just a family servant," rather than it being acknowledged as his just due as a high-ranking disciple of the sect. Wei Wuxian's servant status is used to intentionally drag down his achievements while uplifting the "benevolence" of the Jiang Cheng and his dead parents.

On the other side in tgcf, Feng Xin and Mu Qing, who are categorically not servants in the way Wei Wuxian is, get to play underdogs to Xie Lian's "villainous tyranny" by obscuring their actual relationship to Xie Lian as one of "subordinates suppressed by their superior." By likening them to "servants," it is not their positions that are diminished but Xie Lian's by painting him as their oppressor who they "had" to abandon in order to reach their "true potential." It's even stated in the unedited tgcf (haven't gotten to this part in the edited version yet) that the two gods' come-up stories are inexplicably tied to the idea that they succeeded despite Xie Lian's attempts to sabotage them, and that Xie Lian, in turn, fell out of favor because he was an overall terrible person to even those closest to him:

And so, it followed that if they had to find a play with a role for the “Crown Prince of Xianle,” it would have to be one starring either Feng Xin or Mu Qing. In Mortal Realm plays written for those two heavenly officials, at times the story would involve Xie Lian—usually as a foil or an extra, or for the sake of making the play even more exciting. Some would rewrite Xie Lian as the villain, spinning stories depicting the lonely, abandoned Mu Qing being bullied, or Xie Lian robbing Feng Xin of his beloved, and so on. If such plays were shown at the Mid-Autumn Banquet, whether the officials in question would be pleased was hardly a concern, since the rest of the audience would definitely enjoy it.

—Vol. 3, Chapt. 42: Temple of a Thousand Lights Endlessly Illuminating the Lingering Night, 7seas

Thus, Xie Lian, a crown prince thrust into poverty and obscurity, has his diminished status justified by the fact that his two subordinates have now climbed over his head to godhood, while the betrayal of said subordinates towards him is waved away as "well, he must have treated them badly if they made no effort to return and help him in any way." In this way, the class hierarchy is maintained and those at the top protected despite the flipped statuses of the three characters involved.

In conclusion, Wei Wuxian is actually not at all in the same position as Feng Xin and Mu Qing are in their respective stories, and to conflate these two very different positions is either to act like Wei Wuxian had a better life under the Jiang than he actually did in mdzs or to act like Mu Qing and Feng Xin had a worse life under Xie Lian than they actually did in tgcf. This is why people should be reading the books as stand-alones rather than as if they are extensions of each other in a shared universe. These characters are leading vastly different lives. They are not at united by a shared class struggle.

[therealcocoshady]

Kinktober - Day 13 - Daddy

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : hey guys ! Here is the 2nd prompt for Kinktober Day 13. This time it’s « Daddy ». I only recently got done with it without realizing I would be posting it on the day of his birthday 🙊. I could have made something birthday related but… oh well. Another time, maybe 🙈. I hope you enjoy it. I made it cute & fluffy.

CW : Daddy kink - Pregnancy announcement - Fluff

Marshall Mathers doesn’t have a daddy kink. In fact, it’s kind of the opposite. Maybe it’s a parent thing, but as far as he’s concerned, there are only three persons in the world allowed to call him Daddy : his children. Any woman he is dating g trying to call him that immediately gives him the ick. You sort of learned it the hard way. Being younger than him, you playfully and somewhat threw in the nickname on one occasion when he was being directive. It wasn’t even in bed and, in hindsight, thank God it wasn’t because it would have been that much more awkward. It was one night, you were in his kitchen, making dinner, telling him about your day while you were slicing and dicing some vegetable for the meal you were cooking. « Careful with the knife, babe. Look at what you’re doing or you’re going to cut yourself.  » he gently warned, ever so caring. « Ok Daddy » you chuckled with a grin.

His mood immediately changed and the soft smile on his face was quickly replaced by a frown and an air of disgust. « What did you call me ? » he asked. « Daddy » you repeated « come on, it’s not that deep » you don’t added with a shrug. « Just… don’t » he said. You stopped what you were doing and put the knife aside. « You don’t like it ? » you asked with a raised eyebrow. To you, it wasn’t a big deal. You didn’t have a daddy kink but you were guilty of calling some of your exes « Daddy » in bed. No daddy issues on your part, just some appreciation for someone who could be a little authoritarian in bed. So, to you, playfully using the nickname didn’t sound like anything weird at all. Him, on the other hand, seemed to find it creepy. « Like it ? It’s fucking weird » he scoffed. « you really want to call me Daddy ?! ».

He genuinely seemed disturbed by the thought. Horrified, almost. You giggled and cupped his face. « It was just for fun. Chill, babe. » you said softly. « No but while thinks about their dad when they’re with their man ? » he continued. You couldn’t help but laugh and shook your head. « First of all… I like it when you refer to yourself as my man » you said seductively. « And second of all… it’s not about actual fathers. It’s a vibe, you know ? » you tentatively explained. He hummed but still didn’t seem convinced. « Yeah, well, feel free to come up with any other nickname but… not this one. The only people who are allowed to call me that are my daughters. » he said as he rolled his eyes. You chuckled and agreed before giving him a peck on the cheek.

In the following years, you didn’t fall short when it came to finding cute names to refer to him, some of them being more ridiculous than others. Most of the time, you used classics such as « my love » or « babe » but, every so often, you spiced things up with something ridiculous like « sunshine » or « honeybun ». He often laughed at your antics and, honestly, he didn’t mind the cheesy pet names. If anything, he thought it was kind of funny and cute. As long as you steered clear of « Daddy », he could put up with anything. On the days where you wanted to use a nickname that highlighted his authoritative nature, you tried to find options such as « Boss » or « Top Dog », which never failed to make him chortle.

However, one evening, you just had to go back to using « Daddy ».

You went to find him in his home office, where he was reviewing some visuals for his upcoming album. As the drop date was approaching, he was putting in more and more hours. When you entered the room, you found him with his head in his hands, clearly exhausted. You stood behind him and placed a kiss on his cheek, prompting him to look up. He gave you an exhausted smile, one that showed your intrusion was most welcome. You knew that, as much as he loved the writing/producing/recording part of making an album, the rest sometimes felt like a pain in his ass. And these days, it seemed like it was all about photoshoots, picking visuals, anticipating promo. All the things he didn’t really care for, really.

« So… What’s up, Daddy ? » you asked softly and innocently.

He turned to you and you immediately saw him cringe. You could see the instinctive reaction, as if he had just eaten something sour. His eyebrows shot up, arching sharply in disbelief, while his eyes went wide with a mix of shock and confusion. A slight twitch pulled at the corner of his left eye, as if his brain was desperately trying to process and reject what he'd just heard. His lips pressed together into a thin, tight line, then curled downward in the most uncomfortable grimace imaginable. His jaw clenched visibly, and his nostrils flared as if he was physically trying to hold back whatever retort was forming in his head. For a moment, he looked utterly frozen in place, caught between laughter and utter discomfort, before he finally broke the silence with a sharp shake of his head. “Nah, nah, nah,” he muttered, his voice a mix of strained disbelief and unease, his whole face still scrunched up like he was trying to physically repel the word. The look in his eyes was pleading, practically begging you not to ever do that again.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. It had been at least a couple of years since the « Daddy » incident but his reaction said it all, he still found it insanely cringy. Too bad, though, because he’d had to get used to it. Marshall’s face shifted from that initial cringe into something more serious, his eyes narrowing as he shook his head, setting his laptop aside with an exaggerated sigh. He turned to you, his lips pressing together tightly, clearly trying to rein in his frustration, but there was no hiding the exasperation in his voice.

« Babe, we’ve been over this already, » he said, gesturing with his hands like he was trying to lay out something obvious. « I told you, no calling me ‘Daddy.’ That’s for my kids. I can’t- »He paused, searching for the right words, but all that came out was a mix of disbelief and irritation. « I don’t even know how to explain it, but it just feels… wrong, alright? ». His tone was firm, but not angry—more like someone who’d had this conversation one too many times and couldn’t believe they were having it again. « You think it’s funny, but no. It’s weird. We’re not doing that, » he added, his brows furrowing in a way that made it clear he was serious. He looked at you, waiting for some sign that you got the message this time, his expression softening just a little as he ran a hand through his hair. « Just… stop, » he finished with a sigh, giving you a look that said he hoped this would be the last time he had to talk about it. Twice was enough already.

« I don’t think I can stop » you said with a grin, waiting for him to connect the dots. « In fact… I think you’re going to get used to it… Daddy» you continued as you placed a hand where, soon enough, a bump would be visible. At first, your man didn’t seem to fully register it. He sat there, still caught in the loop of his usual reaction to your teasing, eyes narrowing in confusion.

But then, slowly, the meaning of your words and the gesture sank in. His expression shifted, eyebrows furrowing as his head tilted slightly, like he was trying to replay your sentence in his mind to make sure he’d heard it right. « Wait... what? » His voice was softer now, disbelief lacing every word. His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were still joking, but instead, he saw the familiar glow in your eyes and the warm, expectant smile that told him this was different. His whole body seemed to freeze for a beat, and then his face changed entirely. His eyes widened first, and his mouth dropped open just a little, like he had to catch his breath. His brow furrowed, but not in confusion anymore—it was the weight of emotion hitting him, the realization dawning in full. « You’re... for real? ». His voice cracked slightly, like he didn’t trust himself to fully believe it yet, but his eyes were already glistening with the first hint of something deeper.

When you nodded, his lips parted into a stunned smile, a slow, almost incredulous laugh bubbling up from his chest. He looked down at your stomach, then back at your face, a hand running over his head as if trying to make sense of the moment. « You… you’re pregnant? ». The words came out softer this time, almost in awe, his eyes never leaving yours. After months of hoping for a positive test that never seemed to come, this was it, finally.

There was a long pause, where all he could do was stare at you, a mixture of joy and disbelief playing across his face, before a laugh finally broke free, a genuine, almost disbelieving laugh, as if he couldn’t wrap his head around it. « I’m gonna be a dad again? ». His voice was filled with wonder now, his hand reaching out to touch your stomach gently, like the reality of it was finally hitting him in waves. His whole face softened, his eyes shining with that rare, unguarded emotion he kept hidden from most. He pulled you into a tight embrace, pulling you to his lap and burying his face in your neck for a moment as he let the weight of it all sink in. « Finally, » he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes again, a wide, almost boyish grin breaking across his face. « We’re having a baby. ». You nodded with an emotional smile and wrapped your arms around his neck before kissing him.

As the reality of the moment settled in and the initial wave of emotion began to subside, you couldn’t help but tease him, that familiar playful glint dancing in your eyes. You leaned back slightly, still smiling as you ran a hand over your belly, letting your words hang in the air for just a second before speaking. « So, hum, does this mean I finally get a pass to call you ‘Daddy’ now? » you asked, raising an eyebrow with a sly grin, clearly enjoying how the tables had turned on the long-running joke.

Marshall’s reaction was instant. His face immediately scrunched up, that familiar look of playful disgust returning for a moment. He groaned, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were still going there, especially now. « Oh, come on, » he muttered, though there was a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He looked at you with mock exasperation, but he couldn’t deny that this time, it felt different. He let out a deep breath, his hand running over his face as if to brace himself. « Alright, alright… » he started, but then his expression became more serious, his eyes locking with yours. « Only when you’re talking to the baby, though, » he added, pointing at you with emphasis. « Like, when you’re telling her something about me, sure, you can say ‘Daddy.’ But otherwise, no. That’s still fucking weird. ». He laughed, shaking his head again, and gently placed his hand over your stomach, the playful moment shifting into something more meaningful. « But yeah, » he added quietly, a softer smile forming. « You can say it… for them. »

His gaze lingered on your belly for a moment longer, the weight of what that word meant now sinking in fully. « I guess I’m gonna have to get used to it, huh? » he said, looking back up at you with that familiar mix of humor and tenderness in his eyes.

[vixstarria]

Mark me as yours

This takes place immediately after and is interlinked with 'Missionary with the lights off' but from Astarion's rather than Tav's POV - check it out if you haven't already, the fics complement each other.

Soft sassy Astarion, F!Tav, Gale, minor appearances by other origin characters, Astarion POV

Fluff, humour, banter, pining, non-explicit sexual references

A day in camp in the life of Astarion. Features brooding, sewing, doing laundry, being dramatic, engaging in improper use of archmage of Waterdeep, reading erotica, and more!

Approx. 2,000 words

AO3

You frowned at the stuffed bear you held in your hands, weighing up your desire to showcase your skills against the absurdity of the task at hand.  

The whole thing was coming apart and needed to be washed and restuffed if you were to do this properly. What was inside, anyway? Fur..? You supposed you could go hunt something furry. Or maybe save yourself the time and just give Scratch a quick partial shave, he wouldn’t mind – the mutt lying at your feet was stupid enough to like you. To prefer you over anyone else, in fact.  

You reached down to give him a fond, absentminded pet.  

And then there was the matter of not letting it burn to a crisp the moment Karlach touched it. 

“Is there a flame ward enchantment on this..? Can you reapply it?” you asked Gale, who was nearby at his usual spot by the fire, concocting something edible for the rest of your group. 

“There is and I sure can,” he replied.  

Great. You had gotten yourself into a group project with the wizard to rescue a teddy bear.  

“Don’t tell me this is what Wyll was so concerned about earlier...” Tav had finally made it out of your tent and sat down next to you, looking somewhat less disheveled than how you’d left her.  

“The bag of holding finally tore. Naturally I was the only one competent enough to fix it.” 

You gestured with your thumb towards a towering pile of assorted crap that Wyll and Lae’zel were still sifting through: Lae’zel inspecting and setting aside any weapons and armour she deemed worth keeping, and Wyll sorting through an array of scrolls and potions no one was ever going to use, or would forget were in your possession if the need for them ever did arise.  

“Darling, this is your fault, you know,” you added. “Must you pick up everything?” 

“Karlach made me do it. Also I don’t know what you’re talking about, I am prudence and sensibility personified,” she said. 

“You’re uh... You’re also bleeding,” Gale said, pointing at her neck. 

A trail of blood had started running down from the puncture wounds, which must have reopened.  

Shit. 

Before you could reason yourself out of it, your instincts kicked in and you pressed your mouth against her neck, licking the blood off. By the gods, she actually leaned into you as you did that, not away. You glimpsed a guilty, sheepish smile she threw at Gale, as you pulled away.  

“Idiot... Here, apply pressure, I’ll get the amulet,” you said. 

“I’m the idiot?! You’re the one who ran off to resolve a sewing emergency, like a good little seamstress, before sorting me out!” 

You strode over to your tent, in part to grab the amulet of Silvanus, in part to discreetly tuck away the erection that had immediately started developing as soon as you tasted her blood.  

Hells, am I 239 or 15? you thought, annoyed with yourself.  

“An amulet? I was wondering why you’d stopped visiting me in the mornings...” you heard from Shadowheart. 

“We have a system,” Tav replied.  

“Clearly,” laughed Shadowheart. 

A scene from the night sprung up in your mind as you went about your day: 

She’d fallen asleep on your shoulder, half lying on you, her nose buried in your neck.  

It was... nice. Really nice. And you didn’t think this bizarre scenario would ever happen again.  

And yet, pleasant as it was, she still felt too far. You needed to feel her closer. Perhaps you were being greedy, but after all these years, why should you get anything less than exactly what you wanted? 

Carefully, very carefully lest she stir awake and leave, you rolled over onto your side, holding her against you.

She was still asleep. Good...   

You cautiously slipped lower and lower until your head was at her chest, delicately wrapping your arms around her torso. 

Then she stirred.  

Shit. 

Without waking, she sighed, drawing you into a tight embrace, clutching you against her chest, complete with throwing a leg over your hips to pull you even closer. 

You finally relaxed, your arms wrapped around her waist. 

Perfect... 

She felt so warm... She smelled of comfort. 

You could indulge in this for the night. You would wake up before she did anyway.  

You drifted away, lulled by the beating of her heart. 

You didn’t have any nightmares that night.  

“Is your boyfriend coming?” you heard Karlach somewhere in the distance.  

You cringed at the juvenile term. Still, you were curious how she would answer.  

“He’s on laundry duty,” she responded. “Just us gals today.” 

“So your idea of doing washing is to pawn everything off to me,” said Gale. 

“Vampires and running water, remember,” you said. “Also you don’t look like you’re exerting an awfully large amount of effort yourself... Although I must admit, this is ingenious.” A little flattery wouldn’t hurt.

Gale sat at a riverbank at a deeper section of the river. Some sheets and clothing were being tossed and spun in a small bubbling whirlpool within the water, together with foaming slivers of soap. 

“Surely few archmages possess such finesse and creativity?” you continued. 

Gale sighed and motioned for you to throw your bundle in as well, expanding the whirlpool.  

“Just toss your shirt in too, it's splattered with blood,” Gale added wearily.  

Her scent lingered on it. The last thing you wanted was to wash it off.

You pulled the shirt over your head and hurled it into the whirlpool.  

“Not Tav’s creative nailwork, I presume..?” Gale asked with a wince, looking at your back.  

“Nope” was all you said, as you pulled a book out from your pocket, making yourself comfortable on the bank. To his credit, the wizard did not probe further. 

‘Mark me as yours’ 

Those words had been echoing in your mind over and over all day.  

It couldn’t have meant anything.  

A little expression of some vampire fetishism finally poking through – you shouldn’t have expected any different from her, she did offer you her blood consistently, not even asking for anything in return.  

Still, you’d felt like something inside you might burst from your desire and thrill when you heard those words.   

And then everything that followed after... 

You had actually lost yourself for a short while. Not dissociated and detached. Lost yourself. In bliss. In the scent of her skin, in the sounds of her need for you, in the sensation of her blood merging with yours and flowing through your veins. 

And now she was walking around somewhere, with telltale bitemarks on her neck for all the world to see. Scandalous... 

No, it couldn’t have meant anything.  

‘Mark me as yours’ 

Still... What a pleasant little fantasy... 

‘Yours’ 

“You’ve been smiling at that page for ten minutes straight now,” Gale’s voice snapped you out of your musings.  

“It’s my favourite page,” you retorted. 

“What’s it about?” he asked snidely after a short pause.  

“I have no idea,” you confessed, begrudgingly, snapping the book shut. If the wizard knew what was best for him, he would abstain from any further comments.  

“She’s quite fond of you,” Gale said sombrely after another pause.  

“Is this about to turn into one of those ‘You break her heart – I'll break your face’ talks?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

“Oh gods no,” Gale laughed. "No, I would go straight to incineration... You just strike me as the type that needs to have the obvious spelled out for them.” 

“I am not entering this type of discourse with someone who’s presently washing my spend off my bed sheets,” you said, laying back and shutting your eyes, to bask in the sun. No answer followed. 

Not even a minute had passed when a shadow fell over you.  

Odd, you thought. There hadn’t been a single cloud in the sky. 

You opened your eyes to see a giant water bubble hovering a few meters above you. Was that... a bedsheet floating in the middle..? 

Worth it, you thought just as the undulating bubble spilt and crashed over you.  

You coughed and spat, trying to untangle yourself from the sheet, as the unleashed torrent nearly swept you off the bank. And yet, above all else, you found yourself curious. 

The water had no longer been running as part of the river, true, but given its sheer volume and the velocity at which it hit you, it should have hurt more than merely your pride.  

You made it to the edge of the bank, and cautiously dipped a finger in.

Nothing...

You proceeded to submerge your hand, then your entire forearm, to your elbow. 

Nothing.  

Of all things... Why this? Why not your reflection? Why not the blood craving? Oh well. Beggars, choosers... 

You were laughing.  

“This tadpole,” you turned and shouted at Gale, unabashedly stripping yourself of your pants, as Gale turned away, muttering something about going blind, “is the best thing that’s happened to me in centuries!” 

The best? Maybe second best? It had some tight competition, but you supposed nothing would have been possible without it, so it reigned supreme. 

You leaped into the river, diving and letting the gentle current carry you downstream for a while.  

You knew what you would be doing later that evening with her.  

“What have you got there?”  

She slid onto your lap like a cat that refused to take ‘no’ for an answer as it sought attention. You had been idling away your time by your tent, with some pulp you had picked up earlier. The rest of the group had been drinking and roasting something at the campfire.  

“Trash. Disappointingly boring trash, this time,” you answered. 

“No pulsating flesh tunnels in this one?” 

“Alas... There were not one but two mentions of ‘velvet-wrapped steel’ however, and plenty of ‘sword-sheathing’.” 

“To the hilt?” 

“Is there any other way?” 

“Wouldn’t want to sheathe it only partially, I suppose...” she mused. “Come join us. We found some half-decent wine. And you don’t have to be alone all the time, you know.” 

“Spare me, I’ve had enough of Gale’s lectures and Wyll’s tales for the day. And besides, ugh, all those chewing noises!” You made a gagging sound. 

None of them want me there. 

“Oh don’t be such a delicate princess,” she rolled her eyes. “How’s this: it’s our joint meal time. It would be rude and completely unfair to exclude anyone. You should sit down with everyone, bite down on my wrist and make a great deal of slurping.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

Delightful. Simply delightful. 

“It will be funny!” 

“I fear you might be the only one laughing, darling.” 

That is hilarious, I can just imagine Gale squealing or getting sick. 

“Is there anyone else you’d care to make laugh?” she asked with a slight upturn of her lips. 

Not in the least. 

“I could die again knowing I have accomplished something if I ever make Lae’zel laugh. But perish the thought – I am perfectly happy right here with my literature.” 

“Well, if you don’t want to join the group, perhaps I will stay and you can...” She snatched the book from your hands and tossed it aside, leaning in and bringing her lips up to your ear. “...Release your kraken in my field of rose petals,” she purred in a sultry voice. 

“Stop,” you choked back a snicker.  

“Get tangled up in my beef curtains?” she continued with the same tone. 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“Sink your meat shaft in my cream tart!” she persevered.  

“By the gods, woman, I am never having sex with your again.” 

“Suckle the nectar from my weeping core!” 

“Alright, fine, I’ll go, anything is better than this.” You got up, pushing her off your lap. 

“Taste my forbidden, oozing fruit, Astarion!” she cried out from the ground behind you as you covered your ears and shouted “LALALALA”, making your way towards the campfire. 

You would endure the prattle of your companions.  

Then you would take her for a moonlit swim in the river.  

Then you would see if she might spend the whole night in your arms again.  

Perhaps she could sleep in your shirt and leave her scent on it again – it was foolish to sleep completely in the nude out in the wild after all, what if there were intruders? 

Everything was going according to plan, you reminded yourself.  

~~~~~

Next in series - Down by the river

Series master list

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny

Also @spacebarbarianweird - you haven't asked for a tag but sounded interested

[hamiltonfc]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆⭒˚｡⋆ MOTH TO A FLAME; JUDE BELLINGHAM (Chapter One)

➤ Summary: Kaia tells Jude about her new beau, throwing yet another spanner in the works of their already complicated relationship.

➤ Pairing: Jude Bellingham x F!OC

➤ Warnings: Swearing, Food mention.

➤ Discussion tag: #my works: moth to a flame (if you ever have any questions about the story, release schedule, etc. my inbox is always open.)

➤ Word Count: 2,254

TAGLIST | SERIES PLAYLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Kaia’s POV

The dial tone wasn’t unfamiliar when it came to my relationship with Jude. Over the past few years, phone calls between us have been the main way of communicating with my best friend. With him away in either Germany or Spain, or with myself at my home in London, or away on a film set somewhere, phone calls or long text threads were the best I could get. 

But this call was different. Jude was finally back home in England. Not for long, just for a week or so during the winter break in the Spanish season. It just so happened that I had made the journey up from Surrey to be home with my family for Christmas, so it was only a matter of time before I picked up my phone, ready to call him. 

“Hello?” I heard at the other end of the line when Jude picked up. “Who’s this? The number kinda looked like this girl who last spoke to me about three weeks ago, but, you know, I could be mistaken.”

“Jude,” I say, deadpan. “I swear to God, the day you answer a phone call in a somewhat normal way, that’s when I’ll know the aliens have invaded.”

“I find offence in the fact that’s not the first time you’ve referred to aliens when talking about me,” his smirk was obvious through the way he spoke, it’s not like I’d never heard him speak that way before. “Anyway, stranger, what’s up? Miss my pretty face?”

“Always. But no, I need you to come over,” I stand up from where I was lying on my bed and walk over to my desk, taking a seat on the chair in front of it. 

“You need me to, huh? You should’ve said, Baby, I’d have been over already.” 

“Jesus,” I pinch the bridge of my nose, slumping further back into the chair in feigned annoyance. 

“My name’s Jude, actually, but close enough.”

“Please, Jude. I need to tell you something,” I twist my body, swinging the desk chair side to side a little, nerves creeping up to my heart, which is pounding in my chest. 

“God, I love it when you beg,” Jude whispers, voice a little more serious than it had been before. “Sorry, uhm, I’ll be over in ten. See you soon, Darling.”

****

*knock knock knock*

“FBI, open up!” Jude yells, in the worst American accent I might’ve ever heard (and I’ve been an actor my whole life so I’ve heard some terrible ones), from the other side of my door. He swings the door open, and his beaming face is the first thing I see when he’s revealed. 

I furrow my brows, staring at him with a disappointed look on my face for a few seconds. “Remind me, Jude, why the fuck are we friends?”

Jude places his hand against his chest, mouth open in fake, way too dramatic, offence. “Because we love each other, duh? Did you like it, though? It’s like that show you like, Criminal Brains or whatever it’s called.” He throws himself onto the bed beside me, landing on his stomach, before pushing up onto his forearms, leaning in towards me with only one thing on his mind.

“No,” I whisper, my hand gently placed on his collarbone as I push him back. “I need to talk to you first.”

“Oh,” Jude says with a nod. He grabs one of the many pillows on my bed and tucks it under his head, getting into a more comfortable position so he can look at me properly. Before Jude speaks, I see a look pass across his face, one that I can read instantly. “It’s serious enough that you don’t want to kiss me? Okay,” he drags out the vowels, chocolate brown eyes landing on mine, and at that moment I can do nothing but stare into them. 

My eyes flutter away from his, too scared to look at him during what I’m about to tell him, the weight of his gaze upon me enough to knock my mind off balance. 

“We can’t do this anymore,” I say softly, lips barely moving, but they fall loud and clear upon Jude’s ears. 

“We can’t do what anymore?” He knows. I knew he’d know what I would tell him when I refused to kiss him. But that’s what Jude is like, he is always going to give me space to tell him in my own time. He knows that’s how I want this to go. 

“Whatever we’ve been doing for the past however many years,” it’s then when I look at him, the image of his face etched into my brain of what I imagined he looked like in the moment, and I wasn’t wrong. 

Jude shakes his head, breaking eye contact, his jaw tight, before looking right back at me. “Why?”

“I have a boyfriend.” Silence washes over the room. Only sounds of our breathing can be heard and the ruffling of the bedding when I shift my body towards Jude. “We, uhm, we met on set a few months back and we hit it off, so… yeah. We’re now together.”

I give Jude a tight-lipped smile. He nods slowly in response, eyes wandering around my room. “I’m happy for you.” There it is. Four simple words, but they’re exactly what I expected him to say. He is so predictable. 

“So,” Jude slaps his thighs as he moves to sit up, almost falling backwards due to the lack of support from the mattress underneath him, but his strong core just about manages to complete the manoeuvre. “What’s your mom cooking?”

“A roast, but ab-”

“A roast? Oh, get in, I fucking love your mom’s roasts. Don’t tell my mom but, if I’m being completely honest, I prefer your mom’s Yorkshire puddings,” he smiles, but I can tell in the way he’s moving, his body language, the way his eyes can’t hold contact with mine for longer than three seconds, that he’s trying to distract himself from everything that’s going through his mind. “Mine does do better roast potatoes, though. They’re crispier.” 

“Jude,” I say sharply, placing a hand on his thigh in an attempt to bring him back to reality a little, as I stare at his heaving chest. “Slow the fuck down, yeah?” My stare is wide and long as my hand moves up and down his thigh, the only thing separating our skin are his grey sweatpants. “Take a breath, next time.”

He nods, his hand instinctually moving to grasp mine, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it go, knowing that if he held on any longer he wouldn’t want to let go at all. “Quick question,” his eyes meet mine. “Why are we having a roast when you’re coming round mine for Christmas dinner in three days?”

I shrug. “Think of it as a pre-roast. You know how my mum gets when she’s not hosting, she can’t sit still to save her life, the roast dinner is just a product of that.”

“Cool,” Jude nods. “Two roast dinners in a week is a lot better than all the nutritional shit I have to eat throughout the season, anyway.”

I let out a quiet laugh, pulling my hand out from underneath his. “Anyway,” I take a deep breath. “As I was trying to say, about the dinner, Noah, my boyfriend, is coming over to eat with us.”

“Okay,” Jude’s voice fades out as he says, a confused look on his face.

“I mean,” I tell him. “It’s up to you, you can stay and meet him if you want, I don’t mind. Like I understand if you don’t want to, but, like I said, it’s completely up to you.”

Jude scoffs. “And like I said, I want that roast dinner. Of course, I’m staying.”

“Right then, I get up from my bed, stretching and letting out a yawn, catching Jude looking at the sliver of my belly that appears when I raise my hands over my head. “We best get downstairs and set the table, because we both know that sister of mine won’t have done it.” 

****

“You do know you have legs, right?” I say to my fifteen-year-old sister, Olivia, as soon as I enter the dining room only to find that the table hadn’t already been set like I had previously hoped. 

My sister only lets out a grunt and shrugs at my words. 

“You alright, Liv?” Jude grabs the coasters, placing one in front of each chair, making sure to count one extra than usual for Noah.

Olivia gives Jude the same grunt as the one that she gave me. 

“Remember when we were like that?” I nudge Jude with my elbow, setting up everyone’s cutlery. 

“What, when we hated everyone and everything that wasn’t on our phones? Yeah, that was rough,” a reminiscent look passes across Jude’s face before I slap him in the tummy with the placemats. 

“Come on, slacker, you going to put them down before I whack you round the head with them, or what?” I giggle, making my way into the kitchen to see if my mum needs any help. 

I see Jude smile at me over my shoulder as he watches me walk away. “You alright, Mum? Need help with anything?”

“No, I’m alright, thanks, Love. You go and sit down, I’ll bring the food through in a bit,” she flashes a smile at me before opening the oven up, and checking on the beef and potatoes. 

I turn on my heel, walking back into the dining room, when my little brother appears at the doorway. “Judey!” he yells as soon as he spots my best friend. 

My youngest sibling, Leo, runs at Jude, causing him to stop everything he’s doing before he leans down to pick up the little boy. 

“Hello, little man, how are you doing?” Jude squeezes him as tight as he can. In the time that Jude and Leo had known each other, which was the entirety of Leo’s seven years on the planet, they had built up an amazing relationship. Leo considered Jude to be one of his best friends and even went as far as saying that Jude loved him more than me. If he only knew. 

“I’m not too good,” I watch as Leo pouts up at Jude after he’s placed him back on the ground. 

“Why not, Kid?” Jude’s brows furrow, continuing his work setting the table while also giving the small boy as much attention as he can. 

“I’ve been doing my homework all day because Mummy said I had to and if I didn’t I wouldn’t be able to play Roblox later.” 

“Well, we can’t be having that, can we?” Jude smiles when Leo shakes his head and lets out a heavy sigh. “So, did you get it all done?”

“I did,” Leo nods, a proud smile on his face. 

“Good kid,” Jude ruffles his hair before he spots me, leaning against the doorframe, watching their interaction. 

“Go and take a seat, Leo,” soft thuds against the floor can be heard as he runs to his chair next to his older sister. “Mum says dinner will be ready soon.”

I sit down in my usual spot, with Jude going to take the seat right next to me before changing his mind and walking around the table to sit in the seat directly across from me instead. 

Jude and I engage in barely thirty seconds of conversation before it’s broken up by the sound of the doorbell ringing. I feel my expression change immediately, to one full of nerves. Jude notices that immediately, watching me in anticipation as I get up from my seat. 

“That’ll be him,” I say, leaving no room for Jude to reply because I’m out of the room in seconds, making my way towards the door. 

“Hey, Babe,” Noah says in his thick American accent as soon as I open the door. 

I move to the side, signalling for him to come in. “Hi,” I say, my words a lot more muted than the bubbly voice that he’s used to. 

Noah shrugs his coat off as he steps inside and I grab it from him, turning to hang it on one of the hooks beside the door. He leans down, pressing a quick kiss on my lips. “You okay?” His brows furrow together as he analyses my face. 

“Yeah,” I nod, smiling up at him. “There’s someone here I’d like you to meet,” I tell him, leading him into the dining room after about a minute of being gone. 

As soon as Noah and I enter the room, I notice Jude look Noah up and down the moment his eyes land on him. He takes in his outfit, his tanned skin and his blonde hair. I can practically see the moment where he acknowledges that he’s not my type, no that that matters, he doesn’t know my type to be anything other than himself. 

“Noah,” I turn to him, a slight smile on my face. “You’ve already met my brother and sister,” I can feel Jude watching me as I point at the kids beside him. I can also see his face change slightly, most likely to show his disdain at the fact that I let Noah into my house before ever telling him about our relationship. “And this,” My gaze falls upon Jude, prompting Noah to look at him for the first time this evening. “Is Jude. My best friend.”

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