#Knuckles is hard to play as but i couldn't get angry playing as him because I can never be angry at knuckles

[spoiledskullz]

No spoilers but this happened to me in real life playing the frontiers update

[hamartia-grander]

i still have yet to play bg3 so i still dont go here yet but Wyll seems literally like one of the most compelling characters of all time and im not even joking. I havent even played the GAME but his character arc haunts me /pos. people are literally just racist to say that he isn't compelling

LITERALLY. He's utterly fascinating. He is a folk hero, a legend, the fantasy equivalent of superman. He's a warlock who is secretly pacted to a devil. He hates devils. He's an incredible liar. He's incredibly sincere. He's silly. He unironically enjoys puns and clowns. He over-exaggerates his Blade personality because it amuses him. He sometimes doesn't know where The Blade ends and Wyll begins. His hero-ness is a performance; not to hide ill intent, but to hide a broken man, to hide weaknesses and fears. It's who he is. It's always been a distant thing, a mask. It's who he thinks he must be. He loves freely and openly and will let anyone know it. He's only ever wanted to know he's loved. He still thinks his father's inability to trust or believe in him was all his fault. He still thinks that every bit of suffering he's ever experienced was all his fault. He thinks admitting to suffering would be disrespectful to the lives he's saved. He thinks he has to suffer or else his sacrifices were worthless. He thinks it couldn't be a sacrifice if he didn't suffer for it. He would take any suffering if it meant lessening someone else's. He is the first person to stand up for someone's life and safety, the first person to defend someone's worth and autonomy. He is the last person to do so for himself. He is of the least importance to himself.

He needs to be needed, because if he's not needed then what good is his power and the soul he sacrificed for the pact to get it? And if he can't be needed then he throws himself into the fray without hesitation because his purpose has always been to sacrifice himself so others may live. His life has always been one of sacrifice. His life has been recompense since the second he was born and his mother passed as a result. He saves lives to make up for it. It will never be enough to him. It will always be everything to those he saves. He just wants to be seen for who he truly is. He thinks if no one can see him for who he is then maybe it isn't who he is, and maybe he's fooled them all, fooled himself into thinking he can be a better person, be the hero they need. He wants to be known by someone. He's terrified of someone looking deeper. He sees others for who they are. He's a monster hunter who does not hunt the typical definition of "monster", who knows that monsters are not the ones with fangs and horns in his group of friends but the men who look harmless yet cause endless death and suffering to others. Not even the threat of his life was enough to get him to harm an innocent.

He wants to be chosen. He cannot fathom that someone would choose him. He chooses others over himself every time. He has so much love for others. He thinks he must constantly earn love. He is shocked when someone simply loves him. He thinks he cannot love and lead at the same time. His only role model was a father who could never put his son before his city. He is capable of immense anger. He is capable of immense kindness. He purposefully chooses the latter; he works hard to not let his anger consume him. He's still angry over things that happened a near decade ago. He thinks feeling hurt is the same as being angry and so he can't be hurt. He's always hurting. He takes pride in his achievements and he does not underestimate himself. He's not religious. He devotes himself to his cause with the dedication of the most pious believer. He stands by his friends in any battle, against any struggle. He stands against them if they choose to threaten lives. He holds on to those he cares about with bloody knuckles and teeth bared because loss has always been the hardest pain for him to bear. He has lost everything. He gives every part of himself to others. He cannot lose anyone else. He thinks he can do anything because he refuses to believe any alternative. Because he could not survive any alternative. He thinks his intent is as important as his actions, and so he must always intend to do the right thing.

He does not tolerate his boundaries being pushed or his father being disrespected. He tolerates any judgment because he thinks he deserves it. He defends his status as the Blade of Frontiers. He thinks the fear caused by his devil form is a fault of his own that he must work to fix. He hates the patriars and their farce diplomacy, their lethal hypocrisy. He thinks his father is infallible. He does not hold himself to the same regard as he holds everyone else. He thinks its okay if it only hurts him. Anything is okay as long as it only hurts him. He has to keep fighting to prove he can be a hero. He is so, so tired. He cannot for one second admit to wanting for anything, because once he starts he might not be able to stop wanting. He cannot accept that he deserves to not suffer, too, because if he does he might not be strong enough to continue suffering so others might suffer less. He might not want to suffer. He thinks he cannot regret any decision he's made, he cannot regret his pact, because it would be a dishonour to the good he's done with it. He thinks that saying he regrets his pact would be saying he regrets every life he's saved with it and he would never regret saving lives so he cannot regret his pact. He's accepted that his freedom will always be the cost of saving lives. He desperately wants to be free. His life has never been his own, to him. He thinks every choice he's ever made was his own, alone.

He is very complex. He simplifies himself to be easily accepted by others. People fall for it easily. He just needs one person to look closer. He's afraid of what they'll find if they do. He doesn't keep his cards close to his chest, he meticulously chooses which cards to hold at all. Which parts of himself are worth losing if need be. How much of himself he has to keep close in order to keep being himself. He has seen the worst that the world has to offer. He chooses every day to be kind, to see the best in things, in others. He chooses to care. He holds onto his pain because it's proof that he cares. There are several pathways that don't connect quite right in his brain which you'll notice after a few conversations with him. He is wise beyond his years. He is my favourite guy ever

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂 ꒱ 성한빈

summary : daytime drinking wasn't your thing, but you got so hammered you were desperately asking for a man that wasn't yours anymore

genre : angst, fluff at the end, hanbin x afab!reader tws : language, verbal fight, mention of alcohol author notes : oh to be hanbin’s passenger princess sighh word count : 1.1k

the beeping of horns sounded distant inside your head. maybe it's because you were incredibly intoxicated, brain borderline shutting off as you pressed your temple against the glass window of the passenger seat. or maybe it’s because despite your brain barely working, you couldn't stop thinking about the man in the drivers seat.

oh, how he must hate you. how he must resent you for being slumped in his car—nauseous, but focus only on him. how he must hate to know that you thought of him in such a vulnerable state, after drinking god knows how much. how he must hate you for having your friends call him because you couldn't stop saying: i want my boyfriend.

but he wasn't your boyfriend. no, not anymore. and that, you thought, must be why he hated you the most.

now the car had halted, a defeated groan leaving hanbin's lips. he was annoyed—maybe even angry—due to the fact that you had to get drunk during rush hour. that he had to pick you up, despite the red flags telling him not to.

you chuckled at his side, body limp against the door. you looked out to the road, but everything was just spinning, delayed, and bouncy. the cars at your side didn't even look real, and it didn't take very much imagination to see the kid in the backseat stick their tongue out at you mockingly.

truthfully, you don't know why you got so drunk on a tuesday afternoon—your friends convincing you (without much protest) that it was a good idea… when it so obviously wasn't. it's not like you even had a hard day or were drinking to forget an embarrassing memory. you were drinking soju in broad daylight, simply, because you wanted to. and, now that it was past 5pm you couldn't figure out why.

that being the reason it was funny.

hanbin gripped the wheel a little tighter at your laugher—hating, but loving the melody still. he wanted to turn the radio on but was afraid a song you two sang together would start playing, making it harder to stay composed.

the truth is, he was still mad at you for breaking up with him without a seemingly good reason. he didn't want to still feel feelings for you, but he didn't know (he did, but wouldn't admit it) why it hurt so much to be in your presence.

you turned your head to him, feeling the energy in the car shift ever-so-slightly in a bad way. maybe you were more in tune, more honest, while drunk and that made him fearful; because he was dangerously close to asking the question that's kept him up all night.

"what?" hanbin gritted out, causing you to chuckle again, this time at the way his knuckles were turning white, which you hadn’t noticed before. "what's so funny?"

"you." you teasingly poked his flexed arm. "you give nothing to the imagination. i can see right through you!"

he rolled his eyes, praying that the cars in front of him would magically disappear. he even debated throwing you out, but knew that he cared about your safety (still) too much to do that.

"you must hate me." you slurred, not giving him the chance to reply. "you must hate that i didn't even tell you why we broke up… do you want to know?" your head fell back against the seat, and hanbin began to panic. he didn't want you to fall asleep after getting so close to knowing what he wanted—no, needed—to know. finally though, you raised your head. "i'll tell you."

he held his breath, knowing that whatever you said couldn't possibly be good enough to make up for the dark bags under his eyes. the ache in his heart. he knew that it would cut open a wound that he's tried time and time again to stitch closed. so, he didn't say anything, pretending as if he didn't care, as if it wasn't something so desperate for him.

but, you knew.

you knew him well, despite being radio silent for so long. you knew his signs, his tells, for everything. it was no use hiding from you, and he must've forgotten that.

"i broke up with you..." you dragged it out, not in an on-purposely antagonizing way, but in a way that spelled out that you no longer had anything to say. and, maybe, you didn’t actually have an end to the sentence.

"What the fuck?" he had finally spoken. "fuck you, y/n. do you even know how much that means to me? you can't just say something so cut-throat like that and then leave me hanging! are you fucking serious right now? i don't care how drunk you are, you know what you're doing to me."

"you do hate me." your voice lowered into a mumble. "if you hate me so much then why did you come get me? huh, hanbin, why?"

"god, y/n! i would've hated if you had called anyone else." you stopped talking. stopped subconsciously playing with his feelings. you felt belittled, in the middle of the road with him driving full speed towards you. he was always vulnerable with you, and you pushed him off the edge. "tell me right now, y/n. otherwise you'll never hear from me again."

you hesitated, knowing what your heart felt, but head rationalized. you didn't know which was worse in this outcome. you didn't know if you could ever have a happy ending with him. you didn't know why he was still replaying on your mind like a broken record. you didn't know why you kept saying he hated you, despite knowing the opposite deep down.

you don't know why you broke up with him.

in the dead-stop of traffic, he grabbed your face, making you focus on him. maybe it was because he was desperate for an excuse to let you go, for some sort of closure. or maybe he just missed the touch of your skin against his.

you wanted to tell him the truth, you even prompted it, but now the nausea in your throat wasn't from the copious amounts of alcohol, but from the way his eyes searched yours for any once of love—anything that told him this was okay with you, that you wanted him back too.

and you were scared that he'd found it, voice shaky. "i don't want to—can't—lose you again."

his lips crashed against yours, almost like he'd been starved for so long, desperate for the feeling. he was almost stomach to the center console, fingers dipping into the plush of your cheeks gently. he didn't want to let you go, and frankly, neither did you, but the fervent honking from behind you had you gasping against the air when he did.

you laughed, it hitting against his lips for a moment, him using all his willpower to not lean in again and close the gap that just kept getting wider as he backed up. he had to be responsible and drive the car home, after all, that's all he was called to do. however, your friends never specified which home he'd drive to. and, you weren't too pressed on asking, knowing that whichever outcome it was, he'd finally be back in your arms.

and this time, you weren't letting him go.

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

— perm tag list .ᐟ send an ask to be added c:

[tohsri]

no title.

warnings: dick sucking ofc, deepthroating, nerdy virgin!reader x rebellious!gojo, may be ooc, kinda short ig word count: 980 words 💀 a/n: thanks @getosbigballsack for pulling me out of my writer's block, also i think i slowly went out of topic but i got carried away dont blame me

you walked into your shared room to see satoru playing video games on his computer, shamelessly cursing at the other person on the screen. god knows what kind of argument satoru was having with this stranger online, because it was sure getting a little heated between them. you didn't pay that much attention to it. after all, he was always having this verbal arguments as jokes. so you left him to his games and focused on your assignments, but it wasn't until his voice got louder; and he wasn't screaming out of victory. his face was scrunched up and his teeth were gritted, he was clenching so hard onto the controller his knuckles were white. even you were a little concerned by now, and a little scared at his behaviour. you decided you couldn't leave it alone once he slammed the controller onto the table, his hair a little damp from his sweat. despite his angry expression, you couldn't help but stare at him. even when he was mad, he was still so handsome. was this what he meant whenever he said you were cute when you were mad? his head was thrown back and he shut his eyes, but spoke up when he noticed you were under the table. "what are you planning to do?" he spoke in a gruff voice, pushing his hair back, even panting a little from seemingly how intense his game was. you placed your hand on his inner thigh, staring up at him with pleading eyes. it was so embarrassing for you to ask, but you had to. "can i.. uh, give you.. ah, a- uhm.." you stumbled over your words. "what is it?" his hand stroked your hair, making you feel less nervous. "canigiveyouablowjob?" you blabbered out, face flushed red with embarrassment.

he was a little surprised at your words, given how you're inexperienced, but seeing how cute you looked, he couldn't say no.

-------- you were licking his cock and sucking on his pink tip, tasting the salty precum as you continued to tease him a little more. but you decided to stop and went further on his dick, causing him to let out more sweet noises slip out from his lips.

he was moaning while you were sucking him so obediently, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair. his hand was guiding you slowly, going just a little deeper each time. one of your hands were stroking his cock as well, the other clinging onto his thigh for support. you choked and gagged a few times on his cock, even if you didn't take it in all the way. but you couldn't help it because his cock was just so big that sometimes you went too deep. you wanted to do it for him, though, so he was surprised when you removed your hand, and you found yourself taking almost every inch of his dick into your mouth. it caused your throat to be uncomfortable, forcing you to breathe through your nose even more. when his tip was sliding in and out of your throat, tears escaped your eyes. before you could push yourself further, you found satoru pulling your head back, as much as he didn't want it to stop. however, he didn't want to see you suffer like this either. he stared at your glossy eyes with his blue ones, stroking your hair to calm you down. "slow down, you're taking too much." his said in a soothing tone, which made you feel a lot better. "start off slow, alright? i don't want my princess to suffer like this." you nodded and continued to suck on his cock, hollowing your cheeks out as satoru praised you. "mmh! fuck- ah, you're doing so w-well!" his breath hitched as you bobbed your head slowly, pulling out to twirl your tongue around the crown of his dick. his hand was pushing your head down, but not too far so it doesn't overwhelm you. what almost made him cum was when your hand moved to play with his balls, massaging them to make him feel even better with ecstasy. his hand on your head pulled you off once more, and he stood up from his chair. "is it okay if i fuck your face?" he asked with concern. he smirked when you nodded and he brought you out from under the table, grasping onto your head for support. he started out with small thrusts, being careful not to go too deep at first. his thrusts suddenly started to intensify as he released all his pent-up energy onto you, and you had to endure how his cock was going deep into your throat, stretching out the walls of your throat. you didn't want him to stop though, not in the middle of this. "fuck fuc- cumming! gonna cum in your- ah! throat!" his thrusts were getting sloppy and you could tell, and soon he released his load into your throat. you could feel his cum in your throat, and some in your mouth as he thrusted a little bit more. when he pulled out, you weren't expecting him to cum a second time on your face, which caught you off guard. luckily you were fast enough to close your eyes just before his sticky semen hit your face, which he wiped off after realising what he done. "sorry princess, i didn't know i was gonna cum, you were just too sexy and i couldn't resist..." he chuckled, kneeling down and grabbing some tissues from the table to wipe some cum off your cheek. "it's okay, satoru." you smiled softly. "i enjoyed it." he planted a kiss on your cheek before suddenly lifting you up, carrying you to the bed. he took off his shirt, smirking when he sees your flustered expression. "what? i want a round two, and i'll be gentle with my princess. so sit back and let me do all the work for you."

[randomperson99sworld]

Ruffled Feathers 🪶

~ Part 12 ~

Summary: Julia Morgan, Bobby's niece, has always been a royal thorn in Dean Winchesters ass since the day they met 1 year ago at Bobby's memorial. She wants to be a hunter, he thinks she's a dumb kid playing dress up. Will she always be seen as an unwanted load in Dean's eyes or will he see something more?

Pairing: Dean x OC

Warnings: Age gap, language, sexual themes (used lightly), PHYSICAL ABUSE (Not by Dean).

Word Count: 893

A/N: Poor Julia :( her dad is such an ass. Hope you guys are enjoying it so far. As stated always, this story is cross posted on my Wattpad which will be updated before here. Happy reading! ♥️

The next afternoon, Julia's phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, the sound blending into the quiet hum of the house. She wasn't in the mood to talk, not with everything that had been going on. But something in her gut told her to pick up the call.

It was her aunt. Her voice was low, cautious, as if delivering something fragile. "Jules... your mom passed this morning."

For a moment, Julia's world froze. She stared at the floor, not really seeing it. The words didn't feel real, like they were just bouncing off her, unable to break through the walls she'd built up over the years.

"Oh," was all she managed to say.

"She'd been sick for a long time, you know that," her aunt continued. "I know you two didn't—"

"I'll be fine," Julia interrupted, her voice flat. She wasn't ready for the inevitable conversation about regrets, about the relationship that had never healed. About the years of silence between them.

The funeral came and went, and Julia didn't show up. She couldn't. She knew her father would be there, and facing him was the last thing she wanted.

But a few days later, guilt gnawed at her, and she found herself driving back to her hometown to the cemetery. She thought maybe if she visited her mom's grave, maybe if she said something—anything—it would give her some closure.

When she pulled up, the gravel crunching under her tires, she saw him standing there. Her father, stiff and angry, his back to her as he stared at the freshly dug grave. The tension in the air was palpable, even from a distance.

Julia hesitated, gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. She wasn't sure she could do this. But she hadn't come all this way to back down. Not now.

She stepped out of the car, the cool breeze biting at her skin as she approached him. Each step felt heavier than the last.

"I didn't expect to see you here,"  George, her father said, not turning around. His voice was cold and distant.

"I came to pay my respects," Julia said, keeping her tone even. "I didn't come for a fight."

George finally turned to face her, his eyes dark with disappointment and something deeper—resentment, maybe. "You didn't come to the funeral, Julia. Your own mother's funeral. And you think showing up here now means something?"

Julia swallowed the knot in her throat. "I couldn't be there, Dad. You know why."

"Yeah," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "Because you never cared enough to make things right with her. You're just like her, you know that? Always running, always hiding when things get hard."

The words hit her like a slap, but Julia kept her composure. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing how much they stung. "I didn't come here to argue with you."

"Then why are you here?" he snapped, stepping closer, his face twisted with anger. "To ease your guilt? To pretend like you cared when you couldn't even bother to show up?"

Julia's blood boiled, her patience wearing thin. She had held her tongue for years, but something in her snapped. "Maybe I didn't come because I didn't want to stand there pretending we were some happy family. I didn't want to be around you. You never made things better, Dad—you made them worse. She may have been cold, but you were just cruel."

Her father's face darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. "Watch it, girl."

Julia shook her head, stepping back but keeping her gaze locked on his. "No, I'm done watching it. I've been watching it my whole life. You made it impossible to be around either of you. I didn't come to the funeral because I didn't want to stand there pretending to mourn a woman who never even tried to understand me—and certainly not with you hovering around like you've been some saint."

It was too much for him. Before she could react, her father's hand lashed out, striking her across the face. The sharp sting bloomed into a burning pain around her eye. She stumbled back, her hand instinctively flying up to touch her face. Her vision blurred with tears—not from sadness but from the shock of it.

For a moment, everything was silent except for the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

George's face was set in stone, unyielding, unfeeling. "You don't talk about her that way. Not in front of me."

Julia's chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, but the anger inside her was stronger than the pain. Without saying another word, she turned on her heel and stormed toward her car, every step harder than the last. Her heart pounded in her ears as she fumbled for her keys, her hands shaking.

As she slammed the car door shut, she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the black-and-blue forming around her eye. It only fueled the rage already burning in her chest. Her father had always been that way—quick to anger, quick to hurt.

But this time? This time was the last.

Julia revved the engine, tearing down the road away from the cemetery. She was done—done with him, done with that toxic part of her life.

[kiankiwi]

A little Jacob fic where he doesn’t realize how big he is and gets frustrated about it

You were struggling lately. You were significantly shorter than your boyfriend Jacob so when he went into his headspace and got overexcited he'd forget how naturally big he actually was. Often flop against you for cuddles on the couch unintentionally crushing you, he couldn't understand why you weren't able to pick him up or hold him for as long or he why he could never fit in your lap. In his headspace, he was just a baby and babies got cuddles and picked up, carried around and sat in their caregivers lap. And since it was hard for you to do any of that and he saw he wasn't the same as all his other littlespace friends, he would get frustrated.

He would scream and flail and sob into the floor because he thought it was our choice not to pick him up. You had to talk to him about it, attempt to get him to understand. But it had to be the right time, a day when he was a little bit older in his headspace. And today was that day. You hated seeing your baby sad and ever since he realized you couldn't pick him up, he just pouted around the house.

You walked up to a toddler Jake that day as he colored in his Frozen coloring book. "Hi baby, can mama color with you?" Jacob just shrugged and offered you a few of his crayons, the colors he rarely used. "Can mama talk to you while we color?" Jacob looked at you in confusion. "A-am I in twoulble, mama?"

"Oh no baby, not at all. I've just noticed you're very angry lately and I just wanted to talk about your tantrums..." Jacob sighed, abandoning the coloring page he was working on. "I'm a bad little..." He said quietly. Your eyes widened. "WHAT?! Why would you think that baby?" "Other babies get carried around and held and get to sit on their mama's knee..." You could see the look in Jacob's eyes. He was battling coming up to be able to have a real conversation and really communicate with you. You grabbed your boyfriends hand to offer support. "Jacob..." He shed his littleness in a blink of an eye. "Talk to me bub..." You asked.

"I just... I want to be picked up and carried and sit on your lap and all the baby things... those things help me feel small. I don't want to have to walk all the time... I wanna be baby!" Your heart broke on how sad he looked as he explained what he felt he was missing out on. "I know you do baby, but I'm half your size, I'm so sorry but I can't pick you up and carry you. And my lap is too small for you. You're just a string bean baby." You knew Jacob was insecure about his height and how he usually towered over everyone he met so you used one of his silly nicknames. "And you can be tiny baby, we just gotta find other ways that make you feel tiny... like... when mama holds your hand," You squeezed his hand and brought his knuckles up to your lips to kiss them softly. "Or when mama plays with your hair, or when mama rubs your face... stuff like that." Jacob dropped his head as you reached up and traced your fingers over his cheek. "I don't like being big and tall.."

"I know baby, but no matter how big you are, you'll always be my baby okay?" Jacob sighed and nodded. "Hey, you wanna go be in mama's big bed and cuddle with Max and Ruby on?" You saw Jacob hovering over his headspace again, hesitant to drop again. "Hmm, maybe with your blankey and a bottle?" That did it. Jacob dropped his head, hiding his face and then looked at the fridge and his drying sippy cups. "Choccy milk, mama?" You eyed him. "What's the magic word, baby?" "Pwease?" You nodded. "Good boy. Sure you can!" You quickly got Jacob's sippy cup filled and while he was drinking it, you grabbed his blankie from the couch and draped it cozily over his shoulders. "C'mon baby, let's go." Jacob nodded as he drank more. He took your hand and you led him up to your big bed.

You helped tuck your baby boy in and he smiled up at you as you gave him a kiss and got into bed beside him. "You good baby?" He nodded and pointed to the TV. "Oobie, mama, oobie!" "You want max and ruby? Alright baby, hold on, mamas' going as fast as she can." Jacob settled down as you pressed play on an episode and he curled around you, placing his head on your chest. You soaked in the quiet moment, moving your hand up to scratch your babies head. "Love you bub."

**

I'm sorry if this isn't what you were looking for but I tried my best and I had fun with it :)

@mooodyblue

[27emailsicantsend]

Set it Up: A Rina AU

Chapter Eight

The following Monday after Kourtney's wedding, Ricky was sitting in the lounge of the recording studio with Gina. They were sitting directly across from each other in the large lounge chairs, with EJ giving Nini flirtatious recording prompts behind them. Ricky and Gina were pretending to work, but would take turns looking over their laptop to watch the other. Neither of them noticed they were doing this, but they did it for at least half an hour.

About the time it was Gina's turn in this back-and-forth, EJ called Ricky and Gina over to talk about his next plans for the future with Nini. Nini walked out of the sound booth and took a seat on his knee, using her arm around his shoulders to hold herself up. Ricky and Gina walked over to each other, standing so close their arms had no room to breathe. Gina tried not to let her overactive imagination jump to conclusions, but it was really hard to tell if Ricky stood next to her that close intentionally.

For Ricky, he was absolutely being purposeful standing so near to her. It was like a magnetic pull that Gina drew towards him. Ever since the night of the wedding, Ricky couldn't stop thinking about Gina. The dancing, the wings, how he almost stupidly kissed her. He hoped that he had held off long enough that she thought it was nothing, and the visual of Lily being angry at him kept him at bay, but every part of Ricky knew that it was definitely more than nothing. He spent every moment since then trying to fight off feelings that were not going away for Gina, not even for a moment.

And he had thought about everything over and over, but it was too hard to let go of Lily. All his life he had felt like he was never good enough for the pretty girl. That he was never good enough to be a music artist. That he didn't have what it takes to make a song that would make every person in the room cry. Now that he had a job that was one step closer to his dream and a girlfriend that he couldn't bare to lose, he hesitated stepping out of his comfort zone. The worst part of all of this, however, was thinking that if he somehow accidentally spilled EJ's secret or if he somehow broke up with Lily, that all of his hard work to get to this point in his life could be for nothing.

Ricky didn't even know if Gina reciprocated his feelings. If she noticed the small details of his face or the way he walked into a room. If she noticed his laugh or when he did something dorky that couldn't help but make her smile. Because those were all things he noticed about her.

But Ricky was sure of one thing: he was constantly walking on thin ice because of EJ. That any step he took could be his next ticket out of a job- out of the city. EJ had a terrifying chokehold on him that made it hard for Ricky to do anything without thinking about the consequences from EJ first. It was easier to be passive than it was to try something new for the fear of failure.

"So... as you both know... Nini and I have been seeing each other for a few months and..." EJ began, hinting toward what Ricky could only believe to be the worst possible thing EJ could do to himself. He thought it was too soon and they were too young. There was no way they were going to elope after only dating a few months.

"You guys aren't....?" Ricky began, using his hand to gesture a ring sliding on his wedding finger.

"Oh my gosh, Ricky, no. EJ's begged me, like 20 times already. He can wait," Nini chimed in as Gina gave her a nod of approval. EJ looked dissatisfied at best.

"Anyway," EJ continued, trying to play off the absolutely brutal rejection he just received. "We wanted to let you guys know we were planning a little... vacation to Cabo..."

Ricky and Gina nodded, unsure of where EJ was going next with the information.

"... for a month starting next weekend..."

Gina suddenly felt a strong knuckle brush against her lower back, making her heart flutter. Instinctively, she knew Ricky was looking for a celebratory "knuckle punch", but something about having his hand on her lower back felt right. Ignoring the little dimples running up and down her arm, she punched the knuckle back.

"...We still expect you to work, though, but you will get some additional time off... and no, you aren't coming to Cabo with us," EJ finished, watching Gina's face drop when he saw how eager she was about finally getting a paid vacation.

"...However, Gina," Nini began, not even blinking an eye at how heavy of a demand she was about to ask of Gina, "we've got to start thinking about my tour at the end of this year. Not to mention, getting the final stages of my album produced and published. You already know all of the dates and who to call, but this month I expect you to make it happen".

But Gina knew that Nini was right. Gina had been planning these albums and dates right along side Nini for years. She had every person, date, and call ready to be made like clockwork. Gina wondered if this was the only work she would be getting- because if it was, it meant more free time for her.

"Ricky, you can help Gabriella with her work for Nini," EJ demanded, ignoring Gina's eye roll at his blatant disregard for remembering her name. "And I also want to make sure you're keeping our itinerary planned and packed".

"-Wait," Ricky interrupted, realizing what EJ had just requested. He didn't know why he was so shocked, because it was EJ. But it still seemed incredibly low effort, even for him. "You guys are going on a month long trip with absolutely no plans?"

"You would do the same, Ricky," EJ responded dryly.

Ricky couldn't help but feel astonished by the unfathomable financial freedom EJ had. As soon as Ricky felt the astonishment though, he understood why he felt so shocked about it in the first place. Something about the trip didn't add up to Ricky, so he asked to pull EJ aside.

Walking briskly to EJ's office, leaving a confused Nini and Gina out in the studio lounge, Ricky quickly shut the door behind him. He stood close to EJ, lowering his voice to a whisper and hoping that the girls wouldn't hear the atrocious puzzle he had just put together in his mind.

"Ej..." Ricky said, sounding like a warning parent. "How can you afford a month long vacation to Cabo? With absolutely no plans? Last minute bookings can be super expensive...?"

"Ricky, you don't even need to worry. When we hired Nini, we got all the money we needed. Remember?"

"But that was to help the company! Not to go on expensive vacations!"

"And I am helping the company. Carlos is going on tour in a couple of months. We have enough to cover this and Carlos' tour," EJ responded, not sensing the urgency in Ricky's voice.

Things still weren't adding up to Ricky. How could they afford Nini's album and tour, Carlos, and a month-long vacation? Even with Nini's extra income, it was really only enough to keep the company running and send her on tour.

"But Nini? EJ, she had that album and that tour-"

"-Ricky, you don't even need to worry about that," EJ said too nonchalantly for Ricky's taste. Ricky could feel the disgust twisting around his insides at what was going to come next. He knew it was going to be something terrible.

And unfortunately for Ricky, his instincts were right.

"You and I both know Nini's music is well on it's way to burning out soon. She can only be famous for so long before things shift. But Carlos will keep us running. After this vacation, she won't even care about her album or tour. I'll use the money from Carlos' success to pay to take care of her and bada-bing, bada-boom, everyone wins".

Ricky felt himself physically recoil. His hand was twisting in a knot and he had to do everything he could to not punch EJ directly in the face. EJ was going to completely undermine Nini, and possibly throw Gina out of a job. Everything Ricky had been protecting for himself the entire time.

All Ricky did was promise to help EJ not go bankrupt; he never promised EJ he wouldn't tell Nini what a scum bag he was.

Ricky reached furiously for the door handle, ready to run out in a screaming rage telling Nini to find a new producer (and boyfriend) immediately. EJ snatched his hand faster than a SpeedBall finding a mitt.

"What do you think you're doing?" EJ threatened, now using a death grip to hold Ricky's wrist.

"Trying to let Nini know what a piece of trash you are! I'm not going to tell her we're broke. I'll help you find someone new. I'll make up some excuse why she has to leave you. You can still make me do the dirty work. I don't care. But she needs out of this now".

"Absolutely not! Remember the promise, Ricky? Everything I told you is not to get out." EJ glared Ricky down like an evil villain angrily concoting revenge.

Ricky did remember. The sound of EJ's voice was louder than ever in his mind.

You can't tell anyone.

Ricky, if you keep quiet and help me resolve this problem; then when we make it to the other side, I will promote you to become an assistant writer for Carlos.

The imaginary feeling of illness was starting to become real to Ricky. Everything from that day was making sense. EJ had this whole thing planned all along. Maybe not to date the person he was going to work with- that was admittedly all Gina and Ricky- but he was going to befriend them and then sweep the rug out from under them once he got the money to put Carlos on top.

The press will think we're going bankrupt. People will create a stigma against Caswell Records. I don’t really have any other options. We have no other people who want to work with me as a producer.

We have no other people who want to work with me as a producer.

We have no other people who want to work with me as a producer.

Ricky felt completely trapped. EJ had such a cunning way with words. He had completely fallen prey to EJ's evil snares. All Ricky thought he was doing was keeping a secret about near bankruptcy in exchange for an amazing promotion. And, the worst part of all, Ricky was the one who willingly found EJ after sweet, innocent Gina came to him with a proposition that was supposed to benefit all parties.

And now it was going to ruin the lives of two of the most amazing women he had ever met.

Ricky swallowed, knowing too much was on the line for him to get fired for what he was about to say next. "You are literally the worst person I have ever met in my entire life".

"And you need a promotion that you won't get anywhere else. You could go to a thousand other producers and you want to know what they will say to you?" EJ was still grasping Ricky's wrist, he squeezed it tighter, which Ricky assumed was probably forming a small bruise. "They won't say anything. They will laugh in your face. They will recycle you. They will make you order a coffee every day for the rest of your miserable life and if you leave, you will just be serving more and more coffees to more and more producers.

It's a social hierarchy, Ricky. And you have to know people, to know people, to know people. You don't just 'get promotions'. You don't just 'work your way to the top'. Everything in fame is almost always calculated and created from a system you were never born into. But somehow you landed your way into a boss who is willing to give you a promotion- which you won't get anywhere else- because no one else cares about anyone else but themselves around here".

Everyone is too busy being stuck in their black suit, arrogant little world to even have the ability to see two feet in front of them. Get real, Ricky! Because this business is cruel. You can hate the players, but if you want to win you have to participate in the game. And a hint? I am the only level that will get you what you want. So, you're going to play by my rules, got it?"

Ricky thought about how Rottweiler-like EJ looked. He should have been foaming by the mouth with how aggressive he was being. The dark room made things even more suspenseful, silence echoing around the two stressed out humans. Ricky found himself begging in his mind to hear Gina or Nini's voice. Anything that would indicate that they were talking and not hearing EJ's ugly cynicism that was unfolding before him.

Ricky's jaw clenched resentfully. He never felt so much disrespect for a man- a boy- in his life. Ricky thought soulless beings were for fictional tales or haunting stories in the night. But in that moment, in the dampened light from the closed window blinds, Ricky only saw two black empty vessels staring back at him. EJ was a creature of the night.

But EJ was also right.

Getting the job with EJ was nothing short of a miracle. Any other big producer already had assistants they were willing to discard at no cost to them. And any other producers would probably never make it big enough to get Ricky to where he wanted to go. As much as Ricky hated to admit it, he had said and done a lot of things (never mind the entire façade of EJ's love life) that should have gotten him kicked out of the door immediately.

And yet, here he was. A promise of an incredible job that may be his only shot to getting big. The fear of failure creeping back up through his bones. It paralyzed him as he weighed out every possibility of what his life would look like if he ratted EJ out.

And the life looked something like: paycheck-to-paycheck. Being harassed by boss after boss, never being able to get out from the bottom he forced himself back into. Never seeing another chance even remotely close to the one he now practically had at his feet.

But he felt like he had no other choice than to make an egregious decision on the fly.

Ricky sucked in a large portion of air, his nostrils flaring rapidly. He was breathing fast, praying so desperately to wake up from this caged-in feeling. But when a few seconds passed, and he didn't wake, Ricky said something he immediately hated himself for. Something that made him not want to look in the mirror or ever at Gina again.

"If I am still getting that job, I won't tell," Ricky's words were sour, shots of demonization placed behind each one.

EJ let go of Ricky's wrist, tilting his chin up to demonstrate his superiority complex.

"That's what I thought. Now. Get. Out." EJ's words were cold. Unmoving.

Ricky opened the door, ready to storm out. However, his mood immediately switched up when he noticed Gina, who must have seen the irritability in Ricky's body language. Her face was a perfectly complex shape of worry and sadness. Ricky could see the storm cloud starting to appear over her, so he immediately switched up into what was probably the World's Fakest Smile. He was sure it could win records.

He could tell Gina didn't totally buy it, with some anxiety hiding behind her now softened face, but they moved along anyway.

"Is everything ok?" Gina asked, some hesitancy still illuminating her tone.

"Uh... yeah.. um. It's fine. I just... remembered..." Ricky didn't know how he had been so good at lying the last few months. Now when he needed a lie more than ever about his discussion in EJ's office, his mind went blank. It was completely useless.

"Remembered what?" Gina was definitely not buying Ricky's front.

"Uh... um...." Ricky gulped and looked around quickly. He noticed how beautiful Gina looked in her long sleeve mustard yellow top, accompanied with white shorts. Her hair was in braids, half of them pulled up. Ricky thought about how she could easily model in anything she wore. She could make a lunch bag high fashion.

And that was when he came up with the perfect excuse.

"A modeling show!" Ricky laughed uncomfortably. "Yeah. I was asking EJ if we should surprise Nini with it, but he said I should actually get both of your inputs. The- the fashion show was supposed to take place in...?"

"-Cabo?" Nini added, one eyebrow raised.

"-Right! Right! Cabo. Yeah! Duh!" Ricky smacked a hand to his forehead. "I saw an advertisement for it last week and I thought you and EJ might be interested-"

"-That's weird? Prestigious fashion shows normally don't have random advertisements..." Nini mused. Ricky could feel Nini sniffing out his lie.

"-Well, I'm on this VIP list thing that tells me when all of the fashion shows are and it-" Ricky scrambled, trying to make his lie more believable to no avail.

"What list? I've never heard of that... Surely, I'd be on it..." Nini continued to prod. Ricky just wanted to yell "Shut up!" at Nini, but he respected her (out of fear) too much to do that.

"No, I swear it's this really cool e-mail list... I could see if I could get you on it-" Ricky knew he was visibly sweating. This was a mess he wasn't going to be able to cover up much longer. He wondered when he had gotten so bad at lying? And that was right before looking at how pretty Gina's appearance was. A confirmation to his wondering.

"I will see if I can find a way to get you on the list, Nini," EJ's voice responded, it's presence demanding the room.

Everyone, with Ricky being the fastest, snapped their attention toward EJ. He stood powerfully behind Ricky, his arms crossed and vanity saturating his demeanor. Ricky could feel EJ's vile energy crawling towards him, with nothing to shield or block him.

EJ added one final comment that Ricky was not anticipating to happen so soon after their office brawl. "Ricky, I also forgot to mention that you're getting a promotion. You can now help Carlos write his music. You'll be a part-time writer on top of being my assistant".

After doing something that should have changed Ricky's life permanently, EJ added an understanding wink to Ricky. However, Ricky felt nothing but pure hatred for that man and the instant promotion made him feel more trapped than free. The wink was just an added bonus- enough to make make his skin crawl.

Gina didn't seem to notice Ricky's disdain because she was in Ricky's arms, celebrating and squealing for him. She was going on and on about how excited she was for Ricky to finally get what he had been working for, meanwhile Ricky was barely hugging back- completely blacked out in his own thoughts.

The only thing that broke him out of his thoughts was Nini's sudden change of tune toward Gina, "And Gina. I've been thinking a lot about how hard you've been working. I want to give you a promotion too, but I wasn't sure what would work for you. How about a raise instead?"

Gina let go of Ricky and approached her boss. She had one chance to make her dream come true. So with all of the bravery she could muster she asked, "actually, could I... could I be a backup dancer for you? ...When you go on tour?"

Nini blinked in confusion. The longest miliseconds passed by before she responded, "Why?"

"Uh... um... I..." Gina was having a hard time getting the words back. She filled instantly with regret, knowing she should have just taken the raise. She knew there was no way she was going to be able to get she needed from Nini. Or defend herself in case Nini said no.

Right when Gina was about to cave, she turned around to the sound of Ricky's voice behind her. "Because, she is one of the best dancers you will see around. She could teach a potato to dance the waltz. She makes... living room dancing feel like you're in a performance. She lights up the room and you would be remorseful if you didn't take her".

Nini looked at Gina, then to Ricky, then back to Gina with a knowing smile. "Wow, Gina. Bowen must really find you special".

Gina's cheeks turned a deep red, so deep she had to look at the wall opposite Nini so no one would see. Ricky was also a shade of pink, but he tried to cover his embarrassment by adding, "-her dancing. Her dancing I find special".

Nini gave a soft snicker as she added, "Yeah, that".

****************************************************************

Later that day, Nini called Gina back to her office. Gina checked her calendar and didn't see a plan for the hour, so with a little curiosity she made her way down the hall to Nini. Gina was surprised to see Nini sitting in the chair in the back corner of the room. It made Nini seem lower- more level with Gina. She looked... almost normal (that is, aside from her head to toe Coco Chanel outfit).

"You asked to see me?" Gina asked, slowly crossing the threshold to approach Nini.

"Do you know why I am so hard on you?"

"Excuse me? I don't-"

"Do you know why I am hard on you?" Nini repeated, some annoyance in her tone.

Gina stopped several feet away from Nini before responding, "no. Why?"

"Part of it is because I find your perkiness and enthusiasm for this job annoying, but part of it is because I want to see you do amazing things after this. The fact that you want to be my backup dancer means you want to engage in one of the most brutal industries out there.

Gina, being in entertainment is hard. One wrong tweet or terrible album and your entire career could be over before it began. You have to have thick skin and be able to stand up for yourself when times get tough".

Gina swallowed uncomfortably. She knew Nini was right. All she wanted was to be able to prove herself and be brave and fierce like Nini. She wanted to tell people "no" without second guessing herself and not cower when someone didn't meet her demands. But she realized today, particularly when Ricky had to practically defend her to Nini, that the courage she thought she had was a farce.

Nini continued, "But I know you can do it and that's why I keep you around. Every little demand I make you're ten steps ahead of me. I would be eaten alive if I didn't have you. And if I was the absolute worst boss you ever had, then I consider my job well done, because that means you can handle anything after this".

Gina's worry turned into warmth as she realized the weight of what Nini was telling her. Nini believed in her more than she ever realized. It was like all of the years of her hard work, sacrifices, and tears were finally not only worth it, but they made sense.

Gina replied, "thank you, Nini... that means... so much to me. But... does this mean I'm for sure going to be-"

"-a backup dancer? Yes".

Gina started to do a happy dance when another thought popped into her head (which immediately stopped her dance in it's tracks). There was no way Nini could have gone off of Ricky's word alone. Usually backup dancers have incredibly rigorous vetting processes for Nini.

"I'm still confused on something," Gina replied, not understanding how she got the promotion so easily. "Wouldn't you need to see me dance before giving me the job?"

"Lucky for you, your little friend downstairs got some videos from... Katrina? Was it?"

"Kourtney?"

"Yeah, Kourtney, of your dances online. I have to admit... I was pretty impressed. Especially since you choreographed most of them yourself".

Gina didn't know what touched her heart more: Nini being impressed by her, Kourtney scouring the internet for videos of Gina dancing, or Ricky going above and beyond to make sure Gina got the dream job. The elation she was feeling didn't seem to dim. Even when Nini added another comment about "needing to perform her regular assistant duties as well", the happiness she felt continued to burst through her, brighter and brighter.

Gina exited Nini's office before pinching the skin on her arm to check if she was still awake. Fortunately (or unfortunately), after pinching a her skin a little too hard, Gina knew she was awake.

************************************************************************

The next few days required extra coffee and energy drinks to keep Gina and Ricky even remotely running. They were up day and night trying to attend trainings for their promotions, booking plans for Cabo, and staying on top of Nini and EJ's already busy schedule. The work didn't seem to stop no matter what time of the night Ricky and Gina left.

Unluckily, Ricky's now suddenly booked schedule brought back one of the original problems that caused the "set up" in the first place: Lily. She was furious with how late Ricky had been out, causing her to furiously leave his apartment Thursday night. They had gotten in a fight over Ricky's divided attention and when he made a comment saying "so it's fine when you have divided attention at dance clubs", she said some not child-friendly words and left the apartment slamming the door.

As much as Ricky wanted to care about Lily leaving, he didn't. He secretly hoped she would be the one to dump him so that people could see how upsetting she was at times, but she didn't. He ended up receiving a message later that night from her apologizing and explaining that she "never wanted to treat him like that again".

Ricky knew he needed to end things with her, but he also recognized he could end up alone. And for him, being with a terrible person was better than being alone. Because Ricky didn't know Gina's feelings either, there was no guarantee he wouldn't be alone if he left her. Things, although messy, were just easier to just keep the same.

And at least Ricky had something to look forward to when he came home from the misery of his job... that also wasn't so miserable anymore. The misery was pretty much gone because he got to write and hang out with Gina every day.

Work was actually pretty good- aside from seeing EJ's wretched face.

The next day, Gina was practicing parts of the new dance sequences some of the other backup dancers had shown her. Caswell Records had a luxurious private gym and dance studio. Most of the employees frequented it, but on this day, the dance studio was a ghost town. Gina loved the feeling of being able to blast her own music and dance freely with no one watching (with the bonus of it being in such a beautiful studio). It was like her own little piece of heaven.

While she was trying to get a particular step down to one of Nini's older singles, her headphones rang. Sweating and panting, Gina pressed the small button on her headphone to answer, only to be greeted with Ricky's voice. She couldn't help it; hearing Ricky's voice had a magical effect of immediately making her smile.

"So, I'm about the dumbest person I know," Ricky started, not even bothering to say hello.

"We knew that. What's up?" Gina giggled as she flipped up the straw on her water bottle and took a swig.

"Well, hello to you too!" Ricky responded, playfully offended.

"You literally started the conversation out that way, Richard. Don't knock me for agreeing".

"Anyway, EJ sent me on a hunt for a specific pair of shoes. In Manhattan. And he didn't know the name of the store," Gina could hear the eye roll from Ricky. "I finally found them after searching all day and forgot EJ's credit card. They're the last pair and you know what will happen if I don't get them".

Gina knew exactly what he was implying. Gina lived her life in fear of messing up Nini's demands, even now after her conversation with her boss a few days prior. Somehow, after everything Ricky and she had been through, their bosses were still the most intimidating creatures to exist. Gina wondered if books about monsters under the bed were written about them.

"I've got you. Where is it? I'm done for the day, so I can bring it".

"Gina, you are wonderful and beautiful and great and I appreciate everything about you!"

"Keep going?" Gina teased. She loved when Ricky bowed at her feet for doing even the smallest favors for him.

"Do you have the card yet?" Ricky teased, laughing on the other line.

Gina told him to hold on and ran downstairs to his desk. As soon as she reached it, she was met with what looked like a male car crash. Trash was stacked high on his desk, sticky notes covered his computer, and the garbage was overflowing with something that was definitely rotting. Gina knew they had been busy prepping for their bosses trip, but at least she had been keeping her desk clean.

Shuffling through the old chip bags and papers, Gina found the card on top of Ricky's desk calendar. She was about to grab it, when she noticed something that should not have caught her eye. She stared at the calendar, trying to process if what she was reading was right.

She checked the month (next month) and the year (this year) and it did not make any sense. On the schedule for Monday's which are, and have been since she started working there, Nini's recording days, was Ricky's handwriting:

Carlos' Recording Day

Gina blinked, not understanding why Carlos' name was in place of Nini's. The weeks before were blocked out for the vacation. Gina went to the month prior and saw Nini's name for every Monday, but when she looked at the Monday's after their bosses vacation, she saw the same thing.

Carlos' Recording Day

Carlos' Recording Day

Carlos' Recording Day

Knots began to form in her stomach as she read the same thing over. And over. And over.

Gina couldn't process why she was seeing Carlos' name so much. She wondered if EJ was moving Nini's recording day and flipped through some future months in the calendar. She didn't see Nini's name anywhere after the Cabo trip. Her insides twisted as she wondered if Nini was getting fired. Until an even worse realization hit her: if Nini got fired, so would she.

Gina told Ricky she would "be there in a jiffy", to which he made fun of her for using a term from the 1950's, and took a cab over to the store to meet up with Ricky.

When Gina finally got to the store (a high-end loft-type shop with menswear and only about twenty items actually on display), she noticed Ricky practically bodyguarding a pair of black leather shoes. Gina didn't need to see the price to know they were easily hundreds of dollars.

When Ricky noticed her come in, his face shifted from stressed to excited. A boyish grin appeared on his face, like he just got finished racing his best friend outside his childhood home. Gina, on the other hand, had a more calculated look. She was laughing skeptically.

"So... funny story," Gina began, handing the card to Ricky. "I went to go get the card off your desk and I noticed something..."

"The mess? Listen, I know you aren't perfect either," Ricky teased, still standing protectively in front of the shoe display.

"You already know my desk is clean".

"-true," Ricky conceded, turning around once more to check on the shoes. They were still perfectly poised together, unblemished and shining under the display lamp.

"I actually saw your desk calendar underneath the card..." Gina realized that was the first time she ever saw Ricky have a desk calendar. She knew his schedule was all digital. She wondered what- or who- could have made him be more responsible with his planning. "I just noticed something a little weird about it? Usually Nini records on Mondays? But every Monday after their Cabo trip... is somehow booked for Carlos?"

Ricky started to panic. He wasn't sure how to cover up something as undeniable as EJ's schedule... which was literally in writing. He had to think on his feet, an ironic expression considering how much he was guarding the shoes behind him.

"I bet EJ is still planning on putting Nini into the schedule... maybe he just wanted to switch days with Carlos?"

Gina was baffled at Ricky for lying so inconsequentially to her. Not one look on his face seemed worried or remorseful- he was just trying to cover up. After all of the time they had spent together, everything they had been through, she couldn't believe he couldn't be honest.

"That's what I thought too... until I realized you were the one who makes his calendar. We know everything. We're the puppeteers, remember?"

Ricky stared blankly at Gina, feeling his face turn white. As much as he wanted to come clean about everything, he couldn't. He felt himself struggling to find any words to defend himself. But a part of him knew he had been caught.

This only bothered Gina more. She decided it was best to stop hinting and just get Ricky to tell her what was going on. "Wow, Ricky. I stood here and gave you the opportunity to tell me the truth and you have nothing to say".

Ricky surveyed Gina's face, watching as she grew more distraught. It killed him every second to just not come forward with the truth. Not tell her about EJ's plan. But Gina and he finally got the jobs they had worked so hard for their entire lives, it would wreck him if he was the cause of her "sad cloud" reappearing.

So, Ricky remained silent. Again.

Gina's voice softened, hoping that if she tried a different approach with him, he would tell her the truth. "Ricky, please, just tell me what is going on. I'm not trying to get mad at you. I just want to help. Please. I know there's more".

Ricky and Gina stared at each other in a heavy silence, each anticipating what to do next. The worry exchanged between them was palpable, fresh to the touch. Neither of them liked having this feeling with the other, but they didn't know how else to move around it.

Gina thought about what was so distressing about the calendar- Nini possibly was getting fired. With Ricky's reaction, what she was thinking didn't feel so far-fetched anymore. Gina decided to speak again, the thought clicking that her fear was possibly coming true.

"Nini isn't going to have a job when she gets back, is she?... And neither am I?"

Ricky finally replied, somehow finding the words that seemed so lost in him before. He didn't have much to say except, "I'm sorry... I didn't think he..."

"Oh my gosh, Ricky! How could you keep this from me? How long have you known about this?!" As much as Gina wanted to keep her anger at bay, she couldn't. Ricky was aware that Nini's- and her- jobs were on the line. Gina was the one who set Nini up with EJ as her producer in the first place; there was no way Nini was going to keep Gina around if EJ let go of Nini.

Gina could feel a numbness starting in her toes and slowly crawling up her body.

"Well EJ didn't tell me the full plan until Monday-" Ricky responded, not realizing the ramifications of what he just admitted.

"-The full plan?!" Gina cut off Ricky, not trying to hide her upset anymore. "There was a plan? Ricky! How long have you known about this?"

Ricky looked around panicked. There was a few other customers and workers scattered around the small store. Even a pin dropping would have been noticeable, so Gina's exclamations were especially striking. A couple of customers nearby were sharing uncomfortable whispers and giggles.

"Gina!" Ricky loudly whispered, trying to get her voice to quiet back down. "People are staring!"

"So you care about appearances now? You know, that was something I always admired about you. How you never seemed to care what anyone thought! How you went about standing up for yourself, not caring what me or EJ or anyone else had to say. What changed?"

"Nothing changed, ok?" Ricky returned his volume back to normal, knowing Gina wasn't going to try to avoid everyone else watching them argue. Ricky normally didn't back down to someone else, but Gina was making it hard not to cave. Not to tell her everything.

"We're getting off topic here," Gina replied, as Ricky sarcastically thought about how she was the one changing topics. "What was the plan, Ricky? Why would EJ- a large producer- need Nini so bad? The only time someone would make a plan to get something is if they were worried about failing..." Gina's thoughts trailed off.

Gina was finally putting the pieces of the puzzle together. She knew EJ had chased off a lot of people, but she didn't know how badly he was failing. She thought about the empty offices by Nini, how EJ was only working with Carlos, how quickly EJ agreed to work with Nini, how terribly he treated everyone-especially Ricky.

Everything was adding up in a terrible, cruel way.

Ricky stood back and watched as Gina moved things around in her mind. It was unsettling for him to watch her connect the dots. He thought that maybe there was a chance she wasn't that clever. That maybe she was going to completely miss the mark. But then he remembered she was Gina. She was thoughtful, brilliant, and calculated. At times she felt twenty steps ahead of Ricky. He thought about how witty and bright she was and how she knew things that don't always come second nature to people (like soothing a sobbing baby). He knew that Gina was going to figure everything out.

"Caswell Records was failing and EJ needed Nini to bolster business, didn't he?" Gina pressed, knowing her theory wasn't off-base.

Ricky looked down shamefully, clicking the toes of his shoes together. Gina knew that meant she was right.

"But it doesn't make sense why he would fire her if she was bringing in business outside of Carlos... Wait... Carlos.... this has something to do with Carlos, doesn't it?" Gina accused, causing Ricky to look at her again. He swallowed, not disagreeing.

"Ricky, talk to me. Now," Gina demanded. Ricky finally saw the sad cloud again. But there was something different with this cloud. It had turned into a black sky, filled with lightning and wind. It was loud and chaotic. It refused to hide. Ricky knew he had two options: either he could run or he could face the storm that was coming regardless.

Now that Gina knew everything, his career was in jeopardy either way. So, he decided to be brave.

"Yes. It does..." Ricky talked slow, explaining everything without making eye contact with Gina. It hurt too much to see her face as he let her down. "Caswell Records was struggling... and when EJ tried to get a loan from his rich cousin, he was denied. Carlos wasn't bringing in the money we thought he would and EJ chased everyone else off..."

"-I can't imagine why".

"So... EJ made me promise to not tell anyone until we fixed things. That's when you and Nini came in. She was a promising artist who had a lot of money to help out the company. EJ even promised I would get a promotion at the end of all of this... if I kept my bargain and got him out from under his debt".

"At the end of all of this?! The plan was for Nini to get fired the whole time?! Why would he do that if she's bringing in money?" Gina exclaimed using her hands to gesture her feelings. She looked like she was ready to throttle Ricky.

Ricky took a deep breath, knowing what he was about to admit was the most cruel part of it all. The part he learned Monday. The part he was now wishing he had never listened or agreed to. He closed his eyes as he explained, "It was just enough money to produce Carlos' album and send him on tour. Now EJ doesn't... need Nini".

Ricky flinched at the last sentence. It sounded a lot worse out loud.

"So, dating Nini was part of the plan too? To get her in his arms, break her heart, and take her money? And you agreed to the plan too? You're disgusting, Ricky!!"

Gina was about to leave, never to return to the infuriating world of Ricky Bowen ever again. She couldn't believe that everything had been a lie. That Ricky never cared about her or anyone else. It was deplorable how selfish he had become.

However, before she had even turned around, Ricky grabbed her arm and said, "Gina, wait".

She stopped, pulling her arm loose of his grasp. Using all of the anger she could muster, she snapped back, "what?"

"You have some things confused. Please, let me finish..." Ricky didn't want to say this last part, but he knew it was the right thing to do. It was the right thing to promise Gina after everything he had dragged her through. "And then... and then you never have to talk to me again".

Gina couldn't think of anything more she wanted at the moment. She decided to listen if it meant erasing any memory of Ricky or EJ ever again.

"I was trying to say he doesn't need Nini in the business anymore. He still wants to date her, but he figured she could rest now. He would put his 'work efforts' on Carlos to bring in money for the three of them, so she wouldn't have to work... He loves Nini and would do anything for her.

And the fake dating was totally a plan from you and me only. He still doesn't know that whole thing was a rouse... that just so happened to work in our favor. But it hasn't all been a lie. The things I told you about myself, our times together, how I feel about you..."

Gina felt like she had just experienced ten degrees of whiplash. Not only was she not anticipating hearing the worst news of her life, but she also wasn't expecting Ricky to admit his... feelings for her? She wasn't even sure if that's what he meant. She was too angry about how he singlehandedly helped EJ sabotage any chance of success for herself and how Ricky lied to her about nearly everything over the last few months. She felt like she was going to be sick.

"Ricky! We all lied to each other! We lied to our bosses, you lied to Nini and me- we all lied! But the part that hurts the most is that I thought we were in our lie together. You see, EJ is a terrible person and doesn't hide it, so I'm not surprised he did this. You, on the other hand, pretend to be a good person and act selfishly in the dark. And that is so much worse".

Gina's words cut deep. He never thought she would think so low of him. She told him he was worse than EJ, the man he never wanted to be. The man he almost risked giving his life to in exchange for Nini's freedom earlier that week. Gina had no idea what was said behind that closed door and it was obvious now.

Ricky couldn't help it. If she was going to be honest, so was he.

"Maybe I was selfish, but at least I had the courage to do what I needed to do to get the job I wanted! You couldn't even do that Monday. You just wait around, expecting Nini to notice you, when newsflash: if she hasn't yet, she isn't going to! I'm the reason she finally noticed you, because you couldn't find that courage yourself!"

And, as if things couldn't get any worse, Ricky just crossed the biggest line yet. Gina knew he was selfish, but what he had just said made her see his egotism on a completely new level.

Gina felt really, really hurt.

Gina thought she was done speaking, but she paused and glared at Ricky, before adding one more thing, "I continued to lie to Nini because I saw how happy EJ made her. How much happier we became with our freedom. I loved spending time... I loved spending time with you. But this isn't worth it anymore. I'm telling Nini. Everything."

And with that, Gina left the store, tears streaming down her cheeks. Ricky was heartbroken, not realizing how deep he had dug himself into his problems. He was a complete wreck after watching one of the only things he cared about walk out the door.

And to make matters even worse, when Ricky turned around, the shoes had vanished.

[evrythinginbtwn]

strangers

"W-what? What are you talking about?" you breathe out, voice shaky. you cant seem to fully catch your breath, each attempt futile and unsatisfying. why cant you just catch your breath?

He smirks his stupid grin, the corner of his mouth peaking up and you hate it. you hate him more than you ever thought you could hate something in your life. why does he make you feel like this? why does he make you do this? after everything? you thought you both were getting somewhere.

He huffs out a deep chuckle giving you a look that made it seem as if you were the crazy psychotic one. and boy does he love making you play the part. "What do you mean what am i talking about? dont play dumb now, you know better," he tsks you with a slight shake of his head.

you're taken aback. confused. maybe you are the crazy one all along. did you misinterpret everything? surely you couldn't have?

"but- but i thought," you inhale a deep breath, "I thought you wanted ME?" is the room spinning? the room must be spinning.

again with that stupid fucking grin. "you thought wrong. I already told you i didnt want that. now fix yourself up, and get out of my face before i throw your ass out." his tone is no longer amused by your stupidity, his smirk dropping into something worse. something more threatening.

but how? how can he not want you? you had progressed so far, surely he was developing at least something for you? you couldn't have been that blind. you want to bite your tongue like every other time, but now its different. now its too far. you cant trust yourself now, betraying your thoughts to shut your mouth.

"i just dont get it," you seethe. youve never talked to him like this. you wouldn't dare. he just had to bring it out of you. are you even fully there at this point?

"how could you not want me? what you said? what you've done? what WE have done? you said-" he doesn't even attempt to listen to you. he's had enough of your insolence. he's let you speak out of line long enough.

he's not even angry. merely annoyed by your voice and presence now. your lesser than him, so dont think you can capture that much emotion from him. solely just an owner annoyed by its misbehaved pet. solely him annoyed by you.

before you can open your mouth again, your head whips to the right, your cheek and neck burning. the force sends you back and falling to the floor, barely catching yourself in time. "how pathetic," he snarls. maybe you actually like his stupid grin, you think.

the room is definitely spinning. you let out a low groan, your hands coming down to grasp your side. you're not sure what's worse. the pain from your self inflicted mutilation, or the fact your just feet away from her. all chained up and gross. and he still wants her more than you. "I thought you l-loved me?" you cough out. each breath causes more blood to seep through your fingers. no amount of pressure seems to slow it down.

you cant focus. your cheek feels hot from the smack and you cant imagine how red and puffed up it must look.

he sighs, his hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose. maybe its my fault, he thinks. i just haven't trained her well enough.

"would you just shut up? its not about love, it's about fucking taste." he releases a long breath and shakes his head. "unbelievable," he mutters to himself, turning back to face the table.

the chained unnamed girls leg rests on top of the table, a large butcher knife sticking out of it.

"but why not ME?" you cry out desperately, not quite giving up. tears start to stream down your face. why aren't you enough? "I dont taste good enough?!"

his knuckles turn white from how hard he grips the edge of the table. if he was looking at you, you know he'd be rolling his eyes. "the part you cut for me was absolutely disgusting. you think i will spare your feelings from how sickening you taste, just because you voluntarily decided to give yourself to me? come on-" and he throws his head back to stare at the ceiling, completely and utterly annoyed by you, as if you inconvenienced him.

the room feels colder. everything feels numb. you cant even feel your cheek or stab wound anymore. did your heart just stop? you think so.

"wh.. what?" you breathe out, voice barely above a whisper. your hands start to shake as they remain pressed down on your side. maybe a cut from a different part would taste better then?

"oh dont give me that look. I know what you're thinking. it's you. no part of you will taste any better. trust me, i would know."

god, oh god you're gonna be ill. you're gonna throw up your guts. this cant be right this cant be right, you repeat to yourself. more tears begin to stream down your face as you stare up at him. you cant help but think how beautiful he is, even with blood all over his mouth. both yours and... hers.

"Am I making you feel sick?" its a struggle to get the words out. you know what the answer is yet you cant bear to hear the answer so why, why, would you go against every bone and instinct in your body and say it? you wish he had just wired your jaw shut instead, for not only his sake, but yours. that would have hurt far less than this.

a small grin starts to grow on his perfect face.

_____________

i just need to read this song

[casspurrjoybell-25]

Cold as Ice - Chapter 25 - Part 1

*Warning - Adult Content*

Landon Reilly

I was skating up ice with the puck, Ian close behind me.

Knowing he was catching up to me, I moved my legs faster and searched for one of my teammates to pass it off to.

Ian was with me before I could get rid of it and he slammed into me, his elbow smashing under my chin and sending a wave of pain through me.

He didn't even get called for the blatant elbow, which caused an uproar from my team's bench.

Frustrated, in pain and angry, I went after Ian.

He had turned around back toward our end of the ice.

I used all my strength to catch up to him and check him hard before he got rid of the puck.

I hit him with so much force that he stumbled and lost the puck, one of my teammates retrieving it.

Instead of getting off the ice like his coach was directing, Ian came over to me and shoved my shoulders.

Part of me knew this was inevitable the way the two of us had been playing.

There was only so much anger one could let out through a few hard checks and some shoves and since he started it, I was now angry and I still wasn't all that great at dealing with my anger, especially not during a game.

Hockey was physical and rough.

There was no way for me to clear my head during the game without getting physical.

It seemed Ian felt the same way because, soon our gloves and helmets were off and our fists were flying.

I couldn't really explain why I had suddenly gotten so angry.

I should have been able to handle being pushed around a little on the ice.

Maybe it was the fact that he was targeting me.

Maybe it was the fact that it was Ian and I didn't understand why he had some personal vendetta against me other than the fact that he was friends with Fox and Elijah.

Or maybe it was a mix of all of that and the embarrassment of knowing he had seen me at my worst.

It didn't matter though because it was too late to reign any of that anger in.

Ian got one good punch i, but it was like he wasn't really trying to hurt me.

The two of us didn't exchange any words as the fight progressed.

I grabbed onto the front of his jersey, pulling him to me as I released my fist onto his face.

I hadn't even heard the whistle get blown before the refs were pulling us apart and sending us off the ice and toward our locker rooms.

I picked my gloves and helmet off the ice and went down the tunnel to the locker room, not even bothering to spare a glance at my teammates, though I could hear them cheering me on and tapping their sticks against the boards.

They were happy about this fight but my coaches certainly wouldn't be.

I could kiss the first line goodbye after that, maybe even my spot on the team.

Once I was back in the locker room, I threw my helmet and gloves down in front of my locker space.

My knuckles were already starting to bruise and they ached as I undressed.

I threw my pads down, along with my jersey and my skates and then the rest of my uniform before grabbing a towel and heading toward the showers.

Throwing things hadn't done much to get the rest of my anger out of my system.

The hot shower calmed me down a bit, relaxed my muscles, gave me time to clear my head.

I could have stayed in there forever and been content but when I turned the water off and got out, I was cold and all the thoughts I was trying to avoid came back.

I went into this game unsettled because of my line change and the fact that Cooper was replacing me and everything just spiraled from there because of Ian and my inability to keep my emotions in check.

I also always had thoughts of whatever I had going on with Wren lingering in my mind at all times which did nothing to settle me.

I got dressed and started putting away everything I had thrown on the floor.

The game must have almost been over at this point and I wanted to be ready to get the hell out of here when they were done.

"Listen," a voice said from behind me, startling me.

I whipped around and jumped back, hitting the back of my head on the locker.

Ian was standing in front of me with a blank expression, a dark bruise forming on his cheek.

"Fucking Jeez," I snapped, rubbing the back of my head.

He looked unamused, like I was inconveniencing him even though he was the one that walked in here in the first place.

"Listen, I didn't mean to start a fight with you," Ian continued.

I scoffed, standing up straighter.

"Get the fuck out of here."

"I didn't mean to start a fight with you but I'm glad I did," he said.

"Consider it payback for the Masters Tournament last year."

That was the tournament we had gotten kicked out of because of me because my father wanted me to injure their best players and I couldn't go through with it.

All that anger and resentment was with me on the ice.

I was practically a ticking time bomb then.

One off hand comment from Fox and I exploded.

"Is that all?" I asked.

I didn't know Ian that well but he didn't seem like much of a talker.

Neither was I, really.

"I don't like hitting people," he replied.

"So you came in here to make yourself feel justified for hitting me? Fine, you can go now."

Ian shrugged and looked around the room, making no move to leave.

"I guess that's why," Ian said.

"Because you're some dipshit I should feel justified in hitting."

It felt like we were treading dangerously close to territory I wanted to leave unsaid.

Ian didn't seem like the type to feel guilty or want to have some heart to heart.

He was almost like Wren in that way.

It made me feel like Wren that I was standing here and trying to analyze this guy but maybe Ian had a softness to him that he didn't let others see.

Maybe that was why he was actually here.

Either way, I didn't want him to talk about that night.

I wanted to pretend it never happened, that this guy I barely knew never saw me like that.

"Really, you can go," I urged him.

"We're probably not going to see each other for the rest of the season so it doesn't even matter."

We wouldn't see each other again unless we met in the playoffs or a tournament.

"You seem different," Ian commented, still looking at me blankly.

'So do you,' I almost said.

The buzzer went off to let us know the game had ended.

Ian nodded at me once before turning and leaving the room.

I sat down on the bench and waited for the team, bracing myself for whatever the coaches were going to say to me.

[junisfics]

All This Time — Armin Arlert (1)

series masterlist

Pairing: Armin Arlert x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Series Summary: Reader messages her best friend Armin late one night while she's drunk and needy, but will she remember the things she said to him in the morning, and if she does... will she regret it?

Part Summary: After Armin receives a disturbingly vague message from his best friend, he shows up to her house only to find her drunk and needy

Content: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut

Content Warnings: Sexual Content, Mentions of Masturbation, Sexual Fantasies

You met Armin in your freshman year of high school. You had gone to separate middle schools, but those two schools fed into your then high school and you became classmates. You shared a band class together, Armin played clarinet and you played the piano. The entire band was split between two periods, you and Armin’s seventh period consisted of woodwinds while the other period held brass… percussion was split evenly between the two periods. 

That was the first game of chance.

The second one was after-school practice sessions with Mr. Steunberg. Apparently, Armin was struggling with sight-reading just as much as you were, so you were paired together for practice lessons on Mondays. And every Monday for the second semester of freshman year, you and Armin played your instruments in that little sound booth while your music teacher corrected you from outside.

Eventually, the twenty minutes between the end of school and the beginning of lessons was being shared between the two of you rather than each of you hiding off down some hallway. You had decided to come down the band hall early, conveniently at the same time Armin had as well. 

It started with one of you asking if the other had a certain teacher, followed by asking if they had completed the night’s assignment for that class. Over time, the floor distance between you two closed and you’d sit cross-legged on the carpeted floor just outside the booth, knee to knee, sharing snacks before Mr. Steunberg made his way from his History class and down to the band hall. You’d work on homework together and laugh over the squeaking mistakes from the neighboring booths.

Just around the time when you and Armin began to grow comfortable with each other, your organized lessons had stopped and your blooming friendship had been put on pause. Neither of you missed it too much, you barely knew each other, but you still smiled at each other in the halls and occasionally talked before your shared class if there was time, but there really wasn’t.

It was like that for a while; little waves, sentence-long conversations, awkward silences followed by equally as awkward good-byes. It was months before you ever talked the same way you had in that little hallway.

It wasn’t like you craved his presence. Christ, you would completely forget about him if you didn’t see him every day in class. But when he came up to you at the end of the day one day while you were sitting on the piano bench, waiting for the final bell to ring, you couldn’t help but smile.

You still remember the shirt he was wearing, how he pushed those thin-rimmed glasses he still wore up his nose as he talked with you, “Can you help me with sight-reading? I don’t wanna tell my mom I need lessons again and I’m embarrassed to ask anyone else.”

Of course, you had said yes to him, you wouldn’t be pulling your phone out in the middle of the night in the peak of summer to text him while you’re shit-faced to text him if you hadn’t.

Your practicing together turned into practicing and doing homework together, which turned into getting off track and watching YouTube videos together. Then came the hanging out outside of homework and lessons; goofing off at either of your neighborhood parks, walking down the road to get fast-food, running around in a grocery store because there was nothing else to do in the suburbs.

There wasn’t an exact moment where you agreed that you were best friends, it just happened. You were always there for him whenever he got pushed around by the baseball boys, when his parents got divorced and his grandfather moved in, when he got his acceptance letter to the college of his choice; and he was there for you for your first boyfriend and your first heartbreak, he was there when your dog was lost for five days… he being the one that found her, and when you got your acceptance letter, he was the one sitting next to you with open arms.

There were moments when you found yourselves distancing; when you got into little arguments. But at the end of the day, the love that each of you had for each other was stronger than anything. You always came back to him, and he to you. 

No matter how many times you broke his heart by flirting with him just to hook up with some random guy at a party the same day, told him that he was your ‘best friend’, talking about how he was ‘like a brother’ to you, he couldn't leave you and he couldn’t stop loving you.

Armin would do anything for you and you would do anything for Armin. This is why when he got your messages in the dead of the night, he was over to your apartment before he could even text back.

‘armin’ ‘come over’ ‘help’ ‘need help’

Every second between the moment he got your messages until he reached your door, he was mortified. His heart was pounding out of his chest, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering while swerving around corners recklessly, eyes flitting over your parking lot to try and find anything out of the ordinary.

He almost tripped on the curb of the sidewalk while running up to your building. He was whipping open doors and frantically pressing elevator buttons as his keys still jangled in his hands, he didn’t even think to shove them into his pockets. His eyes bore into the red, electric lettering at the frame of the elevator, watching the numbers increase with his hand pressing against the metal doors like it’ll somehow make it go faster.

Once he reaches your door, he knocks frantically, jolts of pain shooting through his knuckles as he does so.

And you’re right at the door waiting for him. You tug it open the second you hear him outside of it, a giant smile of relief on your face.

“Oh my god! Thank god you’re here! I was going to pass out from waiting so long,” You giggle, grabbing ahold of his forearm that was still outstretched from knocking and pulling him inside.

It took him a moment to realize that you’re alright, that you’re standing right there in front of him, unharmed and unscathed, with his sweatshirt pulled over you, the one he gave you before leaving for university. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet as you grab at his arms to bring him forward, stumbling back over your own feet in the process which just sends you into another fit of giggles.

You had a slight sheen of sweat over your face and neck, not a lot, just enough so when your head turned to look behind you the kitchen lights bounced against the gloss on your skin. You didn’t have pants on as well, just these light grey boy-short panties that completely exposed the length of your legs.

It wasn’t like Armin hasn’t seen you in a swimsuit before. Many times your parents had taken you on trips to a lake where you would go tubing and swimming for hours on end until you were both drained of all your energy. But seeing you in, presumably, nothing but his sweatshirt and panties that bared your thighs and bottom curves of your ass had him far more flabbergasted than a swimsuit ever could.

“You’re — you’re okay?” He asks, voice still wavering with concern as you continue to drag him towards the kitchen.

“Absolutely not!” You sound serious, “I need help… with making my dessert.” Your faux serious tone falls apart and you’re choking back another wave of laughter.

Armin watches you incredulously but intently as you slide your hands down his forearms until both of your hands meet his own, giving them a squeeze before spinning around and gripping the kitchen island’s counter.

You have an array of stainless steel bowls crowded beside each other while a mixture of dry baking goods sits unstirred in one of the bowls. You shuffle through the measuring cups and spoons before picking up a large wooden spoon and holding it up to Armin, presenting it to him, like you’ve found a block of gold.

When you turn away from him, he looks over the state of the kitchen. Sugar and flour remnants cover the countertops, series of baking instruments litter them as well, and on the kitchen table is a bottle of vodka.

And then it hits him; you’re playful nature, unpredictability, clumsiness, and intimacy.

“Are you drunk?” He asks you. He isn’t disappointed, or angry, just slightly taken aback.

You bring your head up from the bowl and tilt your head side to side like you were thinking over his question, “A little.”

It was much more than ‘a little’. Before you had even started drinking you were in a playful mood. You had just gotten the offer for a summer job for lifeguarding at the apartment complex’s pool and you thought to celebrate by binging your favorite television show and having a few shots. Then, a few shots turned to many and you were dancing around your living room while having the time of your life before you had settled on making yourself some food. ‘Another celebration’ you had convinced yourself.

But the measuring and the mixing were too hard and who else was there to call other than your best friend?

“Oh my god.” Armin smiles, shaking his head at you and making his way towards you as you continue to mix at god-knows-what you’ve put into that bowl, “You need actual food, not whatever you’re making here.”

You let go of the spoon, letting out a little huff of frustration at his words, scrunching your nose real cutely as you turn towards him. You take the front of his tee-shirt in your hands, gently fiddling with the fabric as you pout.

“I want dessert, Armin.” You whine, bringing your head forward to rest your cheek on his chest. Your chest was pressing against his torso, bare legs knocking against his own.

“’Tomorrow-You’ is going to thank me for not letting you have dessert.” He awkwardly brings one of his hands to your back, patting it a few times before letting his hand rest between your shoulder blades.

“Please?” You whisper, tilting your head up until he can feel your tiny breaths against his chin. Armin hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat begins to pick up in his chest at your close proximity.

“No… No, I’ll — I’ll make you toast or something, how does that sound?” He suggests, snaking his hands between the two of you to gently nudge you off him.

But the space between the two of you is quickly closed when your slide your hands up his chest and around his neck, “Don’t want toast.” You murmur, standing up on the tips of your toes to get in his eye-line. Your nose was only a breath away from his.

Armin carefully takes your wrists in his hands, taking your arms off him as he stammers out, “Well, you’re going to have toast.”

You let out another noise of frustration as you pull yourself away from him, your hands balling into fists at your sides while he pulls open your fridge for the loaf of bread on the top shelf. You watch him with your head tilted in fascination like you’ve never seen bread before, admiring the way his hair falls into his eyes as his pretty hands unwrap the plastic sleeve of the loaf then tug the toaster away from the counter backsplash.

He truly was so beautiful. You always contained your attraction towards him so well, but now your restraint was slipping.

You prance over to him, slipping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his back as he slides two slices of bread from the loaf. His skin is so warm beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders and back flex as he moves his arms, his abdominal muscles twitching as well in reaction to your fingertips skimming over them.

God, he’s so fucking nervous. 

Why is he so nervous? 

Because you’re all over him in just panties and his shirt when he’s had a crush on you for as long as he can remember. You’re being so touchy, so intimate with him, he’s afraid he might explode.

“Go sit down. Can’t — can’t help you if you’re in my way.” He says. Oh but he could help you, he could help you even if you were hanging on him like a spider monkey, he’s just afraid you’ll realize your effect on him if you do so.

“I just wanna be close to you. You’re so cute.” You nuzzle your head under his left arm until you and slip your whole body under it and stand ever so slightly in front of him, wedged between his torso and the countertop.

Your hands play with the hem of his shirt as you look up to him, your eyes glossy, and your pupils were blown. Armin tries his best to keep himself subtly distanced from you, but it’s no use. Every time he inches away, you’re just back on him. 

You’re sliding your hands up his chest, fingers tracing over his jaw and cheekbones as you cling to his side. He can feel your hips knocking against his, your thighs rubbing against his as you shift around to try and get closer. Your fingers follow along the curves of his neck, tracing down his throat then skimming over his collarbones.

“Sit here then. Sit on the counter.” Armin grabs ahold of your torso and pushes you against the counter, the edge of it rutting into the small of your back. You grab ahold of his biceps and let out a flirty little giggle at what his actions could be insinuating.

Your fingers press into the plush muscle of his arms as he strains to lift you, your heels grappling at the cabinets below you to try and aid him. His waist ends up slipped between your knees when you’re finally seated, and you can feel your body flush hot with arousal.

You were already sweating from the exertion you had put forward before he had arrived, but the added closeness with Armin was just driving you crazy.

“Now sit, and stay.” Armin places his hands in front of you to enforce his directions.

You giggle a few times, smiling at the fact that he’s treating you like a dog, “Woof.” 

Armin slips his waist out from your knees to come to your left slide, plucking the now toasted bread from the toaster and setting it on a napkin. He pulls open the drawer to his right for a butter knife, then snatches the butter from the island and brings it to your toast. 

His hands shake as he pulls the glass top of the butter dish, they shake as he dips the knife into the butter, and continues to shake as he spreads the butter over the first piece of toast. He can feel your thigh brushing against his hip as you swing your legs.

You begin to breathe heavier, the heat of exhaustion and heat of arousal begin to grow overwhelming. You fan your face a few times, pushing your hair off your neck, before grabbing the hem of his sweatshirt and pulling it up and over your head.

“What — what are you doing?” Armin stammers, taking a tiny step away from you.

You absentmindedly fold the sweatshirt before setting it aside to fan your face again, “It’s so hot… I think it’s you, Armin.”

You can see his face flush red this time, his ears as well, turning his cheeks and nose a pretty pink shade that doesn’t help your problem.

Armin tries to ignore you, he really does, but it’s so difficult because now you’re in this skimpy little tank top with spaghetti straps. And the straps are slipping off your shoulders and Jesus fucking christ you’re not wearing a bra. He can’t stop his eyes from flitting over your scantily clad figure, drinking in the way your thighs squish against the counter, the curve of your ass as it’s pressed to the granite, the way your nipples tease the thin fabric of your skin.

“Have I ever told you that? That you’re so fine?” You giggle, running a finger down his bicep as he finishes buttering your toast. You’re so grateful that he’s got that stupid white tee shirt on, the one that keeps your gaze lingering over the lean muscle in his chest and back.

“Um, n — no. Toast is done, hop down.” He refuses to make eye contact because if he does, he’s scared he won’t be able to stop himself from kissing you.

“Help.” You pout, reaching out your hands and grabbing for his shoulders.

Armin listens to your plea, setting the toast back down and grabbing ahold of your waist to slide you off the counter. But instead of bringing your feet to the floor, you wrap your legs around his waist and hook your arms around his neck. You have to tilt your head down to look into his eyes, only to see his pupils blown and lashes fluttering as he blinks.  He doesn’t push you off him. Instead, he uses his left hand to snatch the food off the counter while his right hand comes to brace your lower back. 

He’s afraid he’s going to have a heart attack now; feeling your thighs wrapped around him, your cunt hovering just right over his growing cock, your back arching your chest so close to his face that he swears if he looked down he would get a perfect view of your tits, your parted lips all glossy, breath fanning over the bridge of his nose as you run your fingers over the curves of his pretty pink lips.

Fuck. He was definitely getting off to this later.

You’re giggling all the while, and to an extent, you know exactly the effect you have on him. It’s cute, the way he stumbles around your house and trying to keep his footing as he brings you to your bedroom. 

“C’mon, Armin. At least take me on a date first,” You tease as he kneels down to bring your backside to the foot of the bed. Once your legs release his waist, he stands again.

“I’m — I’m not trying — we’re not —” He stutters, bringing his hands forward again like he’s scared you’ll pounce on him.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. Armin wants nothing more in the entire world than to have you beneath him, to have his cock sheathed inside you, to have you moan out his name as you cum around his cock…

But he couldn’t let it happen like this.

You were drunk, so so drunk. And you probably didn’t even know what you were saying.

“We can if you want to.” You speak softly, your knees knocking together as you settle into your seat, fiddling with your hands in your lap as if you got all shy all of a sudden.

And when you look up to him through your lashes, brows furrowed slightly in a pout, Armin almost caves. But he catches himself just as fast, shoving your toast in front of you like it’s a shield.

Your eyes shift down to the food that’s presented before you, and your pout turns into a cute little smile as you daintily take it from his hands. You let the napkin rest in your left palm as you hold the food in your right, immediately taking a little bite out of it.

“You want some water?” Armin asks, still standing in front of you.

You give him a nod without looking up, taking another bite out of the toast while he fills up the cup that he knew rested beside your bathroom sink. As he stands in front of the mirror he takes a moment to breathe in and out deeply as the water fills the cup.

You were going to be the death of him.

“You know, I mean it when I say you’re attractive,” He hears you say, still sitting all obediently on your bed and waiting for him to return, “Everyone’s like, ‘oh Armin got so hot!’, but I always thought you were cute… you just got so — nnghh — in the past year.”

He returns with your glass of water, holding it out to you as you finish chewing. You take it from him gently, holding it in both your hands, careful not to drop it, as you take little sips.

He knew you were being irrational, but he truly hopes you mean what you say.

When you finish drinking, you pat your hand against the mattress as you set your cup to the floor. You want him close again, want the warmth he radiates both physically and spiritually. Armin listens to your ask and sits beside you carefully, running his hands over his thighs as you pull your legs up on the mattress and cross them under you.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” You ask, voice getting tiny again.

That was real… that question… he’s so sure of it. You were always insecure about your looks when you had no reason to be, but he had no idea that you cared what he thought about you.

“I — um… I — I don’t think my — my opinion matt —” He tries to get it to come out sounding right, but the moment he opens his mouth he already knows he’s failed terribly.

“Do… do you not think I’m pretty?” He can hear the feeling of betrayal in your voice, you turn your head away from him.

“No! No, y/n, I think you’re really pretty —”

You grab ahold of his shirt collar and tug him towards you as you let your back fall to the mattress. His torso comes over you and his hand shoots out beside your head to keep him from falling atop you. He can’t even bring himself to pull off of you, because your noses are touching and he can feel your knees knocking against the left side of his waist.

“I — you’re — God, y/n you’re so pretty. Don’t ever think I don’t think that.” He breathes, trying so hard to your lips from touching, for his own sake.

Your mouth splits into a smile and a little laugh escapes your lips. Your free hand grabs ahold of his shirt as well, assuring both you and him that he isn’t going anywhere. You look down to his lips, slightly parted as he pants heavily to keep his composure.

“No, but you don’t understand,” You keep your eyes on his lips, fighting the desire to kiss him, “You’re so fucking hot.”

Armin’s breath gets caught in his throat because you had spoken that in a borderline whimper. Your bottom lip had been taken between your teeth after you finished speaking, and he swears he could see your back arch slightly.

It was completely visible now, how much you needed him. You were holding onto him for dear life, your thighs were squeezing together and your arched back had your stomach brushing against his. You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, irises filled with lust and hunger.

Armin’s so grateful that your legs are to his side and now wrapped around his waist again because he would not have been able to stop himself from grinding down against you… it would have been completely involuntary.

“And — and don’t tell anyone this but sometimes… sometimes I get off to you,” You bring your voice to a whisper as you reveal your secret, lifting your head to move closer to him. He can feel your lips brush against his as you speak, “Actually... like all the time.”

Armin lets out an audible exhale, his jaw slacking at your revelation, he has to shut his eyes again.

“Do you get off to me too?” You ask. And you speak like you didn’t just reveal that to him, bringing your head back down to the mattress and smiling.

Of course he does. Of course he does. 

Junior year of high school you offered to be his first kiss, just for fun, ‘cause you were friends, right? And you wanted to help him get it over with. 

But every night since then, Armin has gotten off to you; laid back in his bed with his cock in his fist, and whispering your name as he cums.

“I — we’re best friends — y/n, I —”

“Best friends don’t wanna fuck each other, Armin.” You say, your voice losing all its playfulness and growing serious like you had suddenly become sober.

You stare into his pretty blue eyes for a moment, letting your own flit between the two of his. You were watching for any change in his expression, any look of disgust or repulsion, but you don’t find any. He just keeps that same incredulous, lust-filled look on his face.

He looks over you as well. Your eyes were still so droopy and hazy, your lips parted like you’re manually breathing. You were so drunk that it almost hurt him. You weren’t going to remember a single thing in the morning, and the two of you would be back to square one because Armin would never be able to repeat to you what you said to him or admit his searing desire for you.

Armin can feel your grip on his shirt tighten once more, and instead of lifting your head to him, you pull him down to you.

“I need you,” You whisper, voice shaking with arousal, “Fuck me... please.”

Armin swallows hard, his arms beginning to shake under his weight. He was going to fucking explode. He needed a break, just a moment, anything so he can catch his breath and regain some of his composure.

Christ, he was so fucking hard. If you were sober, he wouldn’t hesitate for a single second to rip off both of your clothes and push his cock inside you.

“I can’t — you’re drunk,” He murmurs, and you can hear the hurt in his voice. You can hear the fact that he truly wanted to do what you begged him for.

“No, Armin, I want it. I need it. I mean it, I swear.” You plead, your hands pawing at his shirt like he was attempting to get away from you and you wanted him to stay. But Armin was set put, he wasn’t moving, he couldn’t move even if he wanted.

“I need your cock.”

“Not — not now. You need to sleep this off. You’re… you’re not yourself right now,” He takes his eyes off yours, closing them once more and squeezing them shut.

“I’ve — I’ve always wanted you though. Always, I promise.” You continue, hoping that somehow you’ll convince him.

It was true. You wish he could understand how true it was. All the guys you had gotten with after-parties, after football games… they were all just replacements, they were fill-ins for him. You would pretend that it was him that was filling you up, gripping your hips and whispering dirty things against your ear. And for seconds at a time, it would work and you would convince yourself that Armin was right there with you.

And every time you would see him helping another girl with school work, see them flirting with him and getting touchy with him, playing with his glasses or drawing shapes on his hands with a pen… this disgusting feeling would churn around in your stomach and bubble up into your throat. And although Armin was oblivious to their flirting, it still hurt so fucking bad.

“I’ve always wanted you too… just — just not like this. Just sleep it off, okay? And — and then we’ll talk.” His left hand wraps around your waist while his right switches to brace beside your head. He grabs ahold of your torso and shimmies you up the bed until your head meets the pillow.

He sits back on his calves, his left arm sliding out from under you while his right hand brushes your messy hair out of your face before petting your head.

“And, and you’ll fuck me in the morning?” You ask, completely genuine.

Armin swallows hard again, pulling himself away from you and helping you slide your body under your sheets, “If — if you still want me to.”

You look up to him with your eyes full of admiration as he smoothes the sheets over your body, “I’ll always want you to.”

It comes out sounding much more intimate than it actually is to say that ‘you’ll always want Armin to fuck you’. And Armin lets his eyes meet yours again, matching the love that’s filled them.

He smiles to hide the doubt he has inside his chest. In the morning, you’ll either regret every word and ghost him or you’ll forget everything you’ve admitted. Both options made Armin’s heart hurt, but he decides that you leaving him would be the worst of the two. He wouldn’t know what to do if you’d never talk to him again. So for now, he truly hopes you forget.

Armin pulls his hands away from you, shuffling his knees on the bed to get off of it. But before he can bring his feet to the ground, you grab ahold of his wrist.

“Stay, please.” You ask, your eyes struggling to stay open. He wonders if you even know that you’re talking.

He listens to you anyway, bringing his hand down to the mattress as he slips himself under the sheets and next to you. And if he wasn’t sure about staying before, he sure was now because you were so warm and so soft as you shimmied back against him. You take his arm and sling it over your waist, letting his palm splay out over your stomach. You can feel every rise of his chest against your back.

You were going to doze off so easily, he was so warm, he was so comforting. You could feel sleep beginning to creep up on you quickly. But before you let it take over, you slide your hand back and between your bodies to grab the source of the hard thing poking into your ass.

“You’re so hard,” You giggle.

Armin chokes on his breath again and grabs your wrist to pull your hand off his dick, “Stop. Go — go to bed.”

You listen this time, retracting your hand to slip it over his that rests on your stomach, interlacing your fingers as you succumb to your exhaustion.

[denim-mixtapes]

Diamonds and Rust [4/5: Rage Room] - Eddie Munson/Reader

Rating: T Word Count: 2.9K Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader Warnings: Language, vulnerable Eddie, brief mentions of alcohol, major canon divergence (as if that hasn't already been a problem in this fic...but Jason and Chrissy are both alive and well, and mentioned in this chapter!), uses of actual dialogue from the show because I COULDN'T RESIST. Summary: When Eddie stops by to pick you up for your date, something is wrong. He's angry, and clearly needs an outlet for that anger, so you show him your favorite game to play with your coworkers after a hard day. [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Also on Ao3]

It’s not until the following Friday that you and Eddie have a mutual free evening. For the town’s famous outcast he sure does have a tight schedule between his DnD club and band’s separate engagements. When the weekend finally arrives, you’re buzzing around the shop happily all day, humming to yourself as you do your busywork and ring out customers. 

Your anticipation makes the day go by so quickly you almost don’t notice that Eddie doesn’t stop in at his usual 2:00 PM time. (Almost.) It made sense, since he would be stopping by at closing time to pick you up, but you’re still a little bummed to be missing your usual visit and shenanigans with your favorite regular. 

He bursts through the door ten minutes before close as planned, but not before you watch him exchange some heated words with someone you can’t quite see through the window. Some snippets of his voice make it through the glass to you, twinged with more hurt than actual anger. He pushes open the shop door with his shoulder, still shouting, and throws both middle fingers in the same direction. “Have fun with your new girl, Carver!” this time, paired with a crue rolling-the-dice gesture accompanying ‘new girl’. He finally ducks into the door the rest of the way and flashes his teeth your way. You can tell he’s had practice at quickly manufacturing a happy face, but you’ve seen his real smile enough to see right through it. 

He approaches you slowly, hands in his pockets as always, that damn phony smile that doesn’t reach his eyes on his face, and leans on the counter. “Hey sweetheart,” he greets, the pet name sounds unnatural when it isn’t paired with the twinkle in his eye, almost foreign. “Ready to go?” 

“Almost,” you say, and go about the necessary steps to close down the register. “Hey, I don’t wanna pry, but…” you look over your shoulder at him as you walk to lock the door. “You okay?” You want to take back the question as soon as you ask it, because at least the fake smile was worlds better than this, the way he shrinks in on himself. You think you’ve seen every side of Eddie after last week’s nervous rush of a confession, but never anything like this. A kicked puppy. There’s a flare of anger in his eyes but it’s gone as quickly as it came. Crossing the storefront back to stand in front of him, you rush out, “you don’t have to tell me what all that was about. It doesn’t matter. I just…you don’t seem like yourself and I wanted to make sure you were feeling okay.” 

He visibly softens at your honesty. His arms are wrapped around himself protectively, but he stands taller now, a gentle – but genuine – smile graces his lips and your heart stutters. Head bowed, hiding behind the curtain of his hair, he shrugs. “That? That specifically was Jason Carver being his usual knuckle-dragging narcissistic self. I just happen to be blessed enough to be the target of his aggression today,” tightening up, arms now crossed around his chest instead of his stomach, he’s glaring out the window. “Or, always I guess.” 

Blinking back your surprise at his words, you reach out a hand to squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. “You’re a badass, Eddie,” you encourage, “and he’s a townie who had the chance to get out and blew it all for a girl who dumped him as soon as he rejected that football scholarship. He’s just taking his anger out on anyone who looks happier than he is.”

Eddie chuckles at this, a little too knowingly. “Actually that’s probably why he has it out for me.”

A sharp gasp breaks free before you can stop it, “Eddie Munson, you did not.” You swat at his chest, reveling in the full blown laugh that he finally breaks into. 

Holding his palms out in defense, he shakes his head. “If you’re wondering if I slept with Chrisy Cunningham, no, I didn’t, you pervert.” His nose wrinkles. “No, I just finally convinced her that that creep wasn’t worthy of her throwing her future away. She’s a sweet girl, and she’s doing very well for herself at college, thank you. Carver’s had it out for me ever since, just like the rest of this fucking town” Now that he’s talking about it, you can tell it’s the release he’s never known he needed. He breaks out into a rant, a monologue fit for the theater. His stature goes from defensive to heated to downright pacing the floor in front of you, talking animatedly with his hands about how poorly this town has treated him. You know, of course, you’ve been privy to the whispers and rumors about the freak. Your heart stings every time he says the word. Standing before you is one of the most confident men you have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and he’s being beaten back down to the shy, jittery, furious kid from high school before your eyes. 

“...It’s as if nobody in the state of Indiana understands the nuances of self expression. Christ, they put so much faith in their God – who, by the way, is really no different than the deities of our silly little fantasy game that they claim makes us violent – that they forget that his whole thing is acceptance. Pin their hope on athletics and popularity in high school and then peak before they realize that they don’t actually like any of that shit, but by the time they realize that maybe, just maybe, the freak had the right idea all along, just enjoying things without abandon and shamelessly expressing his interests, it’s too late for them to figure out their own interests because they’re married and raising little shits that are going to act just like them and treat kids like me the exact same way they did…”

It’s clear that he needs to let off some steam. It’s clear in the way that he scrunches tufts of hair in his fists as he talks. It’s clear in the way that his shoulders hunch and his pacing increases. It’s clear in the small, defeated, exhale of, “it isn’t fair,” that he lets out at the end of his rant. Before you can reply, he’s rushing out, “Shit, sorry. I am ready to go whenever, don’t let my dramatics put our plans on hold.” 

You didn’t really have plans per say. He was supposed to pick you up from work, and the pair of you were going to drive around town, listening to the mixtape and smoking. Some “plans” he’s ruining, but you smile, this small flash of your teeth that strikes him right through the chest, and hold up a finger to tell him to wait there. 

He stutters in response, but as you step into the back room and duck your head back out to look at him, you offer an encouraging look. “I’ll be right back, promise.” You wait for his gentle nod before fully retreating. 

In the back room, there’s this shelf in the corner that you lovingly refer to as the ‘reject pile.’ You and your very few coworkers save the undesirables from donations that can’t be sold but may serve another purpose and chuck them in the reject pile. Electronics that don’t work, vases or glassware with more chips and cosmetic damage than you deem worth the sale, bikes with missing tires, and clearly homemade pottery adorn the shelves. You pull a shopping cart over to the shelf and start filling it. You struggle a little with a fax machine, but eventually it makes it in, and you tuck pots and plates and crude coffee mugs around it. Then, on your way through the door again, you grab the baseball bat that you kept just inside the doorway for self defense. 

Upon seeing your haul, Eddie narrows his eyes in both confusion and suspicion. 

“What’cha got there?” He asks, slowly, coming around the counter to inspect the cart. 

“Change of plans,” you say, “follow me.” 

He raises an eyebrow in question, but does as you ask. 

Leading him out the front door, you lock it back behind you and make your way around the building to the garage out back. It’s a tiny little thing, enough to maybe fit one car and some clutter, but it’s been vacant as long as you’ve worked at the thrift store, and you and the store opener have used it for your own personal use for most of the summer. 

Flipping the lights on, you grab two pairs of safety glasses off the hook next to the door and toss one to Eddie, who catches them clumsily. Then, putting on your own pair, you push the cart over to the folding table set up in the middle of the room. 

“Is this the part where you put me out of my misery?” He asks, donning the glasses. “I thought if I ever got murdered it would be in a cooler place than Hawkins.” 

“Shut up,” you chide, setting out one of the larger vases on the table, then line up the mugs on the far edge. Joining him at the door again, you hold out the bat to him, handle first. “Here.” 

Nervously, he looks from the outstretched bat to your encouraging eyes, and back. Tense laughter spills from his lips as he says, “why does this feel like a setup?” 

You roll your eyes and flip the bat through the air so that the handle is now in your grip. Strutting up to the table, you choose your target (a coffee mug with no handle, printed on it is Garfield saying “Big Fat Hairy Deal”), and SWING. 

Shards of ceramic hit the floor with a chorus of little tinkling sounds. Your smile is wider than Eddie has ever seen it and you have this look of elation as you watch the shards fly and follow through with your swing. His face mirrors your own, but he still shakes his head in disbelief. 

The bat is once again thrust in his direction, one hand on your hip, and you cock your head at him. “You’re pissed. Clearly. What kind of friend would I be if I saw that you needed to break some shit and not let you break some shit? Fuck our previous plans, go crazy.” 

“You’re nuts,” he mumbles through a gleeful bitten lip as he takes the weapon from your hand. You shrug and turn on your heel to the radio in the corner, pressing play on the mixtape titled ‘Fuck Shit Up’ that permanently lives in this garage. Motorhead’s ‘Go to Hell’ echoes off the walls, and you can practically feel the excitement waft off of him when he lunges for the table and takes out the vase first. 

The sound of his laughter mixes with the shattering of glass as it bursts, and it’s your own kind of music to your ears. When he looks at you, it's with a childlike excitement, like he’s looking for approval, and you can’t help but holler in response. Throwing your fists in the air triumphantly, you shout, “yeah!” 

Eddie circles the table, strutting around it like a lion stalking its prey. The next mug in the lineup is taken out next, swept off the table and making it to the floor in one piece before it shatters upon impact with the cement. You pull yourself up to sit on the same workshop bench as the radio, kicking your feet off the edge as you watch him let out whatever it is he needs to. He digs in the cart with determination and comes back up with armfulls of china, stacking them deliberately on the table to make a tower only to smash it to pieces as soon as it was finished. Eventually you hop back down to join him in building things.

When you’ve both constructed a pretty magnificent structure, he hands the baseball bat back over to you. 

“I take it you do this a lot, huh?” He asks, standing back to admire your swing with hands on his hips. 

“Oh, all the time,” you giggle, sweeping one plate out from the tower with enough precision to leave most of the structure standing. You hand it back. “Sometimes just to air out general frustrations,” WHACK, your turn again. You try not to take too much notice as his fingertips brush yours where you pass the bat back and forth. “Sometimes it’s more direct. I like to picture the shit we’re smacking as someone’s face if it gets real bad.” With your last swing, you take down the rest of the tower you built. “See, that wine glass was Gary, for not giving me your tape sooner.” You breathe a giggle at the way Eddie’s face softens, and point at the last thing in the shopping cart, the fax machine. Raising your eyebrow, you ask, “got any faces in mind for that guy?” 

“Oh,” Eddie breathes, “hell yeah.” 

He thankfully doesn’t let you struggle with the beast this time, retrieving it and setting it on the ground in front of the garage door. He chokes up on the bat, steadying himself in front of the machine with a sway of his hips, and looks at you over his shoulder, “you want a turn first?” 

“No, no” you say, shaking your head and taking your place perched on the counter again. “This one’s all you, Munson.” 

The tip of the bat is an extension of his arm as he points at the machine, strutting around it as he monologues again. “There will be no more retreating,” he growls, a boyish hop in his step as he makes his way back to his original place, “from Eddie the Banished!” You try to hide your laughter at his theatrics behind a hand, but he hears you and looks up with a grin, tongue sweeping his bottom lip and chest heaving with a deep breath. He winks, then turns back to the hunk of metal and plastic before him, rearing up with both hands on the bat. With it high above his head, he addresses his inanimate foe by name. “This is for interrupting my date with a really fuckin cool chick, Carver.” 

The bat collides with the plastic with a sickening crunch. Over and over, he smacks the hell out of the offending thing, switching between overjoyed laughter and offhand comments of all the things Jason Carver has done to cause him pain in the past. When he’s finally done, he’s mad with laughter. The bat makes a hollow sound as it hits the floor and rolls, and he turns to you with pursed lips and a wrinkled nose. 

“All done?” You ask with a soft giggle. 

He’s crossing the room, now, coming to a stop between your knees. When he moves to set his hands on your knees, it’s tentative, but when you don’t show any signs of protest he rests them there fully. “For now.” His cheeks are pink with exertion and if you had to guess, a touch of a blush as he says, “thank you, by the way. That was...really satisfying.” 

“‘Course,” his eyes fixate on your tongue when it darts out to wet your lips. “Thanks for defending my honor against a defunct machine.” 

You don’t realize how close his face is to yours until his lips just barely brush yours with the utterance of, “anytime.” 

Grinning as his breath fans against your lips, you bring a hand up to fist in his collar, the material twisting between your fingers as you pull him flush against you. His grip on your knees tightens in surprise and he stills as your lips meet his, lingering for just a moment before his lack of reciprocation urges you to pull away. But as soon as he comes to, he won’t let you retreat, he pushes up onto his toes to follow your lips as you pull away, connecting them again with a renewed eagerness. Hands creep up your thighs slowly to land on your hips, fingers curling posessively and he pulls you forward to the edge of the bench. 

You can’t stop the squeal that the motion pulls from you, and you break the kiss with a giddy grin, your own hand releasing his shirt and coming up to rest on his cheek. Your thumb brushes at the corner of his lips when his own smile mirrors yours and his eyes search your face for any sign of upset. He’ll find none. 

“Hey,” he says quietly, turning to kiss the palm of your hand before he straightens and brushes a lock of hair away from your face and behind your ear. “What are you doing tomorrow night?” 

“At the risk of sounding too eager,” heat floods your face before you even say the words, “probably whatever it is you’re about to ask me to do.” 

“You clocked me,” he chuckles, then reaches into his back pocket to hand over a flier. “My band has their first real gig tomorrow. You know, outside of Tuesday nights at the Hideout playing for three or four people too drunk to recognize that we’re even playing. It’s a couple of towns over, but I’d love for you to come.” 

“I’m there!” You exclaim, winding your arms around his neck to pull yourself into him for another excited kiss. “Besides, nobody in this town appreciates real music anyway. I’ll be happy to make the drive to see you play for an appreciative crowd.” 

He lights up at your praise, but looks timidly into your eyes as he admits, “as long as you’re there, the rest of the crowd won’t matter.”

[wordstro]

[4] post apocalypse + ex! san + "get out."

part 3 | masterlist | part 5

a/n: part 4/?, warnings for descriptions of a flashbacks to a toxic relationship, angst, please let me know what you think and/or if you'd like to be added to the taglist

-

"get out."

san sits with his back to the ratty old couch, a bloody rag pressed to his nose, yunho hovering over him, but he looks you dead in the eyes with the sort of hatred that makes your heart nearly stop for a moment, and he says it with such calm, such quiet confidence, that your heart really does stop. the bickering around you falls away for a moment, so quiet you almost hear the monsters beyond the walls.

he says it again, with more conviction, and you can tell he's thinking of that cold night as he says it. you know he's embodying the person you were that night.

you take a deep breath, shuddering breath, holding your throbbing knuckles close.

his words echo, "get the fuck out."

~.~.~.~.~

"i know the range isn't the best, but you'd always talked about playing with the radio as a kid and how much you missed it and i -"

you'd laughed and san clamped his mouth shut, brows knit together in anxiety. you clutched the radio to your chest, smiled at his him, watching as his tense shoulders relaxed and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and you said, "i love it, you're so sweet. i didn't think you'd been paying attention like that."

"of course i am," he'd rolled his eyes, soft eyes filled with a fondness that used to make your heart pound against your ribs. "it has a walkie-talkie function too, so if you ever want to talk, i'm always listening."

that was the moment you knew a part of your heart belonged to him and would remain with him until the end of your days.

that piece of your heart only grew larger as time passed and he used the walkie talkie function to whisper goodnight. your friends asked why he didn't just use a phone, but you found the gesture sweet.

after your first fight of many many to come, he'd sat with his back against your closed door and his crackly, broken sorry filled the room.

you used to fight over the same thing. over the fact that you were terrible at showing him the affection he wanted. you were both too defensive for your own good, perhaps because you were young and unbelievably stubborn, perhaps because the main issue was that neither of you were compatible and you did not want to admit it. love was there, and so was passion, but that did not matter when you could barely talk about what bothered you with tossing hurtful words at each other. you couldn't explain that it was hard for you to show affection and care, your love, but that didn't mean it wasn't there. san reacted. that was just who he was. he reacted and he tried to pry reactions out of you, and since you didn't give affection, he figured he could get jealousy or anger or something. the more insecure he grew in your relationship, the more insecure you grew in it. it only snowballed into something awful and toxic that you both were desperate to hold on to. perhaps it was because lows were so low that the highs held you both together. when you made up, you didn't think anyone could ever love you as hard as san could. you didn't think you were cut out for something calm and boring, because you were good at this and it felt good and it was the kind of love you'd seen in movies and books.

the night it all went to shit, there was something different in the air. something other than unbridled fire and the urge to get under someone's skin. maybe it was the same something that grew along with the long gaps between apologies. there used to be a sort of balance. now, not so much.

"i don't love you. i don't even think i've ever liked you. in fact," san spit, "i've barely fucking tolerated you."

it wasn't the most hurtful thing he's said to you, by any means, but something about the lead up to that moment, the excessive fighting, the way he went out of his way to make you angry, everything, truly hit at that moment and you'd stood there speechless. something about him voicing that he didn't truly care - it made your chest feel tight.

it was a cold, winter night when you said, "get out."

your tone had dropped to a quiet whisper, to calmness neither of you were used to anymore. you'd said it to him before, but this time you were dead serious, and choi san could tell.

"get," - you'd stepped forward - "the" - pushed at his chest - "fuck" - he stumbled over his feet, eyes widening, - "out."

he let you push him out of your apartment. you kicked his shoes out behind him, and when you'd looked up and met his gaze, there was a moment where all hung still.

"do not come back."

you'd slammed the door shut on his face. that night the radio beside your bed crackled periodically, the same sound it makes when someone pressed the button to speak. but the radio remained a silent figure at your bedside.

he never said a thing.

and he never came back.

~.~.~.~.~

"from the looks of it, you probably deserved the punch san."

wooyoung's voice cuts through the tension, pitched and lofty and strangely welcome. you tear your eyes from san's, snorting.

"he did deserve it."

if looks could kill, san's burning glare would have set you on fire right then and there.

"i caught them sneaking around. they would have - ow!" san recoils from yunho's hovering hands, glaring.

"oops, my bad," yunho says, tone bland and completely not sorry. "sun will be up soon anyway, san. stop wasting your energy. and stop moving."

you stare between them, from yunho cleaning up san's bloody nose to wooyoung leaning heavily against the doorway up the narrow stairs, to yeosang leaning his chin against his folded arms as he peeks through the hatch you'd come through, and you wonder why they seem to be...defending you? at least, they're not allowing san to toss you out just yet. san relents under yunho's looming figure, though he still attempts to glare at you. the sight would have been amusing if it wasn't for what had just transpired.

"i'll be gone soon," you tell san.

"good," he says, "don't you dare come back."

this time you visibly flinch and san smirks and you fucking hate it. especially when yunho pauses, peering over his shoulder at you, especially when yeosang tilts his head and frowns at you, dark circles under his eyes prominent against his pale skin. you can feel wooyoung's eyes on your back.

"right," you clear your throat, "there goes my plans of visiting. was going to bring a fruit basket and everything."

your sarcasm falls flat, right into the impending silence, and you feel entirely too exposed. san's smirk only deepens.

then wooyoung snorts behind you.

yeosang says, "since we're all awake, why don't we get breakfast and that food and bread i promised you."

"you're giving them bread?" san whips his head to frown at yeosang. the way san looks at yeosang makes you pause. despite his anger towards you, he pouts and his gaze softens. yeosang merely grins, eyes playful, completely different from the angry man you'd helped from a car wreck.

"from your bread stash, to be exact."

san sputters, yunho sighs, yeosang giggles.

wooyoung throws his arm over your shoulder, weighing you down, and you nearly fall over as you try to pull out of his grip. you glare up at him, craning your neck under his weight, but wooyoung just smiles down at you in a strangely kind way and says, "ignore them, let's head down."

you blink.

then he practically drags you towards yeosang and away from san and if he notices the way the tension in your shoulders drops a bit, he doesn't comment.

~.~.~.~.~

"here," yeosang presses a backpack into your arms, and you droop under it's weight.

it's the same exact backpack they'd stolen off you a couple days ago.

you scowl.

"i heard you got robbed?" yeosang says, much too innocently. wooyoung guffaws on the other side of the counter, where he leans heavily.

"i was going to say that this was too much, but never mind, i'm keeping everything," you jab a finger at wooyoung, "and, once again, fuck you."

wooyoung merely grabs your pointer finger and says, "we do have enough time for that, you know."

you groan, but yeosang is the one to smack him over the head for the comment.

there's a brief moment of silence, of knowing that soon you'll have to head back out into the real world and live in fear once more. you're starting to regret not taking the night to get a solid night of sleep.

"do you want batteries?" yeosang asks, suddenly.

"what?"

yeosang points at the radio on your hip, but when he meets your eyes there's a knowing look there, one you're unsure you want to know the meaning behind, "for that?"

you open your mouth to say something, but your breath catches in your throat and you feel overwhelmed, as you had upstairs. maybe leaving this place will be a good thing. vulnerability does not feel good, not after everything.

"i should toss it, honestly."

but you don't unclip it from your belt.

yeosang just nods, though he holds your gaze, then he says, "thanks, again. for mingi. not just getting him out of the car, but staying to help us back."

he knew you were going to run. it's a miracle he isn't holding that against you.

"well, i couldn't pass up free food and a place to stay."

"the sun's up." wooyoung says, gesturing to the ladder.

you nod, shouldering the heavy pack. you glance back down the hall, but there is no san standing there watching you go. you climb the ladder and watch as yeosang goes to the crank to maneuver the door open.

yeosang pats your back awkwardly before he moves to lever and wooyoung drags you into a comfortable side hug.

"by the way, y/n," wooyoung says, "be careful out there. there are some," wooyoung glances at yeosang, and you notice the subtle shake of his head, "weirdos out there. it's not safe. i'd recommend steering clear of going south."

"weirdos? like you guys weirdos or something else?"

wooyoung looks to yeosang once more.

you raise a brow.

yeosang drags a hand over his face, "way to be subtle, woo."

wooyoung wrinkles his nose, "subtlety is for the weak. besides, i owe y/n for bring you and mingi back safe."

"fine, whatever. i'm not talking about it though."

yeosang heads to the ladder, disappearing with one last wave to you. wooyoung sighs before turning to you.

"are you going to tell me or...?"

"you still have the knife?" you nod. he nods, says, "good. keep it close. last i checked, there was a community down south that - it's big and they have some fucked up practices."

he murmurs the last word, rubbing the back of his neck.

"what do you mean by practices?"

"i mean -" wooyoung wrinkles his nose, "it's really not my story to tell, but from my short time in this whole apocalypse thing, i've learned that everyone copes in different ways. san likes to be an insufferable fucking asshole just like yeosang. mingi doesn't talk. you carry around your dead radio -"

"it's not -"

"save the excuses for someone stupid," wooyoung interrupts, though his laugh is strangely kind, especially coupled with the pat on your shoulder, "anyways, there's an entire community of people who cope in a significantly fucked up way. if you're picked up by them, you're screwed."

you raise your chin, "who says i'm easy to pick up?"

wooyoung crosses his arms over his chest, "you're asking me? the person who robbed you blind in broad daylight?"

"shut up."

"anyway, just stay away from them. they mark their territory with orange flags. apparently they've gotten their hands on tire shredders recently, since car accidents are easy targets."

"you mean the car accident mingi and yeosang were in?"

wooyoung looks at you like you're an idiot. "obviously."

"it was just a question," you mumble.

"i mean," wooyoung says, "sure, i'm grateful you helped my friends, but we don't know you, y/n. why would we ever let a stranger stay at our place and then leave? only reason san hasn't been able to toss you out yet is because of what you did, intentional or not. you didn't just save yeo and mingi from death by freaky alien experimentation or whatever. as far as i'm concerned, you saved them from a fate worse than that. so that's why i'm helping you out right now. despite my pretty face, i'm not usually this nice."

you thought it was strange that they were defending you up there, anyway. you'd seen firsthand just how mean wooyoung could be, too. it truly solidifies how this is nothing like Before. this is a world where no one ever does anything just to be kind. and owing favors is a liability. wooyoung seems like the type that rids himself of liabilities immediately.

"oh, uh," still, you can feel your cheeks grow hot at his genuinely sincere tone, "thanks."

"whatever," wooyoung waves a hand, "just steer clear as soon as you can. it looks like they're in town."

his expression grows dark, ominous even, and it seems to warp his expression. it reminds you of the wooyoung who'd robbed you at knifepoint.

"how do you know that?"

"are you paying attention? i mean the tire shredders were -"

"no," you glare at his exasperated tone, "i mean, how do you know they're worse than the alien things? those are pretty fucking awful, wooyoung."

wooyoung's expression darkens.

"we all found each other after those things in the sky showed up," wooyoung says, voice barely louder than a whisper, "at least most of us did. i found yeosang again."

"again?"

"the yeosang today" - wooyoung grits his teeth - "he isn't the yeosang i knew from Before, and he never will be. because of them. that's why i know that they are worse than those fucking aliens."

it's cryptic and confusing, but the way wooyoung clenches his fists and jaw is enough for you to understand that you never want to cross paths with these orange flag-bearing people.

"i'm sorry."

wooyoung lets out a soft breath, shrugs, "what's done is done. now you really have to go, y/n. take care of yourself. don't get robbed."

you nod, ignoring his jab. you watch as he unwinds the door, a small sliver of sun spilling into the bunker.

you slip under the crack.

"there's batteries in the front pocket of your pack, by the way." wooyoung calls to you, bent over so he can wave once more. you glimpse his twinkling eyes one last time before the metal bunker doors slam shut with dull finality.

thud.

you're all alone.

you should ignore his words, but as you stand there basking in the warmth of the blinding sun, blinking rapidly to clear your vision of the bright spots in your vision, your hand moves to the front pocket and curls around the cold batteries, your other hand on the radio at your hip.

~.~.~.~.~

you're an idiot.

after wooyoung's whole speech and the knowledge the car accident you found mingi and yeosang in was intentional, you should have booked it out of town as quickly as possible.

but you hadn't slept a wink and you could barely keep your eyes open. you were tired. the pack on your back was heavy.

so you found a small, out-of-the-way apartment, barricaded the front door and the bathroom door, and slept in pile of blankets in the bathtub, the pack a pillow under your head.

you did everything right.

yet you wake up to the sun in your eyes and a man leaning over you, grin maniacal as he twirls a knife in his hands.

"oh good," he says with a giggle, "you're not dead."

an orange bandana hangs loosely from his neck.

you groan. you're an idiot.

-

taglist: @hither-to-undreamt-of

[songmingisthighs]

Hooked

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

ch. lxxi - really proud of you sweetie ❤❤

<< previous | masterlist | next >>

??? × reader, ateez × reader

A freshman hookup rekindled into something new. With an incentive, of course. But what would happen if your 'relationship' led you somewhere you never thought would happen to you ?

The whole time you went out to buy snacks with San and Jongho, you couldn't help but think about how Yeosang was still cold towards you.

"Okay, first of all, you're not gonna let that shithead get to you, you got me?" San firmly said as he threw a bag of chips at Jongho's head, obviously aiming at the basket in his hand but he miscalculated.

"Second, hasn't he opened up to you slightly? Pretty sure he said something to Hwa hyung about being a dick to you yesterday," San shrugged as the three of you walked towards the cashier.

As Jongho put the basket on the counter, he chimed in with his own opinion, "I say let him be all pissy and bitchy towards (Y/N)," he scoffed.

You let out a whine of protest and smacked Jongho on his arm. Though that barely did anything as he only grinned and pulled you into his arms. "I didn't mean that in a bad way, I just meant that if he decided to back off, the rest of us, aka ME, can have more of you," he whispered into your ear as he snaked his arms around your waist.

Though you were slightly affected by Jongho saying that there was a chance that Yeosang wanted to back off of your relationship, you couldn't help but blush and giggle at Jongho's rather possessive words and actions.

The three of you left the convenience store with two bags. Both of course being carried each by San and Jongho as you stood in between them with your pinkies linked to each other.

"You know, you COULD just show what Yeosang's missing, maybe then he'd realize how much of a bitch he was being and that he'd stop," San said, snickering at himself.

You thought over San's words and realized that he was right. Rather than thinking that you're the one at the disadvantage, you can simply flip things around and make Yeosang break.

So you concocted a plan in your head all the way back and as you got ready for movie night.

Whilst everyone was running around everywhere, pulling blankets and pillows from their rooms, you sat idly by and kept a close eye on Yeosang. The way you were looking at him made it seem like you're a predator and Yeosang's your prey.

As everyone took their seat, you slyly directed each of the boys to sit where you want them to sit, leaving the last comfortable position directly below you, by your feet. Since you know Yeosang tends to go to the bathroom last minute, it meant that he was going to have to sit at the available spot if he wanted to comfortably watch the movie.

Just as you expected, he walked back and froze for a second when he realized where he would be sitting.

"Yeosang, come on, we're gonna start now," Hongjoong called out from his position at the edge of the sofa.

Knowing he can't do or say anything, Yeosang gave up and went to take a seat by your feet. You smirked inconspicuously as you leaned against Seonghwa who was at your right. You nuzzled into him as your legs reached over to Wooyoung's lap on your left.

In the first ten minutes of the movie, you let Yeosang relax, not letting any parts of your body touch his. This seemed to be effective because his eyes were focused on the screen and his shoulders seemed very much relaxed.

But when he seemed to disregard your existence, you let your knee and fingers brush against the back of his neck. As your skin made contact with his, he visibly stiffened. Knowing him, his eyes were most likely bulged out and his grip on the blanket he and San shared tightened to the point that his knuckles turned white.

You smirked at yourself at his reaction, knowing that teasing him was going to be fun and that he deserved it.

The subtlety of your touch seemed to awaken something in Yeosang. Maybe it was his triggered frustration or it was just simply the fact that you hadn't touched him in the longest time.

When your eyes peeked down at him, it was evident that his mind was thinking a hundred thousand thoughts a minute. With his chest rising and deflating with each breath dramatically, you know it's time to take it up a notch and to test your hypothesis.

Sexually frustrated Yeosang + subtle teasing = boi-oi-oi-oi-oi-oing.

"Oops, almost forgot my popcorn," you muttered lowly but loud enough for Yeosang, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung to hear. Once Seonghwa and Wooyoung let their grip on you off, you proceeded to swing your right light over Yeosang and stepped diagonally. With the newfound balance, you leaned your body forward to pretend to reach for the popcorn bowl.

With this position, Yeosang was in direct eyeliner with your clothed core. The shorts you wore were not helping either. It was the pair you wore were the ones Wooyoung bought for you; very tight and short, the black, stretchy material both accentuated and covered only half of your ass.

To make things worse, you pretended to lose your balance and fell directly on Yeosang's lap with a high, squeaky yelp, albeit very fake. The close proximity between you two enabled you to hear the choked gasp that came out of Yeosang. Not only that, but you felt something hard pressing against your ass.

Either Yeosang hid the remote in his pants or your plan worked well.

You turned your face to look at Yeosang with a faux innocent, apologetic face, "Oops, sorry Sangie," you apologized to him, batting your eyelashes at him.

It seemed that Seonghwa and San had caught onto your plan. They were snickering at the scene unveiling before them.

Without saying anything else, you stood up. To make things worse, with your ass directly in front of Yeosang, you 'fixed' your shorts; pulling it up and exposing more of your ass.

"I'll be back," you told the room, to no one specific, before walking towards the kitchen.

You pretended to look around in there, trying to find something when suddenly a set of footsteps followed. Before you could even turn to look at who came, you had been swung and pushed until your back hit the fridge's door.

The sight of Yeosang's flustered face combined with his glare greeted you. You tried your best to not look so smug. On the contrary, you pretended to be confused.

With hands pinned at the sides, you knew you couldn't do much. You tilted your head at him and blinked innocently, "something wrong, Sangie?"

Hearing the faux innocence dripping from your voice only made Yeosang growl, slightly ticked that you dared play him like a fiddle.

"Something wrong? Are you seriously that ignorant or are you just pretending to be dumb? I don't even know which one is worse but I'm fucking sick of you flaunting your ass like a damn peacock trying to mate," he rambled on.

Your expression changed as a smirk broke on your face, "didn't know you're one to give in so easily, Sangie? You think with your dick now?" you poked fun at him.

Yeosang's left eye visibly twitched at your words. One of his hands let go of one of yours to grab at the back of your hair, tugging it back rather harshly, eliciting a moan out of you, "are you comparing me with one of the cheap boy toys that you played with when you weren't here? Didn't know your standards were lowered to that extent," he smirked, trying to push you the same way you did him.

A gasp and a low groan left Yeosang when you cupped his dick with your free hand over his pyjama pants, giving it a bit more pressure to feel how hard he was.

"No matter how much you call them 'cheap boy toys', they have bigger balls than you, Sangie. How long did you plan on being all pissy with me, hmm? Did it hurt your pride that I had to be the one who initiated direct contact with you?" you snarled at him.

You could see his eyes burn in anger with a tinge of shame. You knew you had struck a nerve in him.

All of a sudden, Yeosang pulled you off the fridge, turned you around and pushed you down by the shoulder to the point that your cheek was pressed onto the cold countertop.

Excitement filled you as you realized where this was going. Your formula was spot on, your H1 was accepted and H0 was rejected.

When you realized that Yeosang was not doing anything, you took matters into your own hands. You pressed your scantily clad core directly against his boner.

"Not gonna do anything, Sangie? Do I have to get one of the boys to show you how to use a dick properly? Or should I call one of Haknyeon's friends to show you? There's this one, Hyunjae I think was his name, he-"

You couldn't complete the sentence as Yeosang had slapped your ass so hard, you were sure he had left a purple handprint there.

As you were about to protest, Yeosang had somehow taken a clean rag and wrap it around your mouth as a makeshift gag. He leaned forward so that his chest was pressed onto your back.

"Be a good girl and keep your big mouth shut, yeah?" he ordered. His hand skimmed your waist down to your legs and it slowly caressed the back of your thighs, leaving goosebumps at their wake.

When he realized you didn't give him any response, his hands smacked the sides of your legs harshly, making you jolt up in surprise.

"Too dumb to answer?" he growled. Hearing the anger in his voice made you whimper out in fear and submission.

Yeosang smiled and pecked the back of your neck after you replied to him, your submission made him feel soft for a split second.

It wasn't until he pulled your shorts and panties carelessly along with his own pyjama pants and underwear that your brain finally registered that you're about to have angry sex with Yeosang. From how he had been treating you so far, you're at least 70% sure that there will be bruises all over you tomorrow.

Without hesitation, Yeosang shoved his dick deep into you, hips pressing against your ass as his hands found anchor on your waist. His grip was tight, vice even, it almost seemed possessive.

He set a harsh and quick pace from the beginning, not caring that your hips were smacking the counter nor the fact that literally anyone could enter the kitchen area.

Yeosang isn't one to talk much during sex, he tends to focus on the action more than anything else.

The feeling of him continuously entering you at such pace and vigour were intoxicating. Maybe it was all the pent up frustration and anger, but you swore your eyes rolled back even further each time his hips smacked yours harshly. You definitely won't be able to sit on your ass after this.

"Shit, I guess you were telling the truth when you said you weren't playing with your cousin's friends," he groaned out mid-thrust.

Yeosang suddenly pulled out, making you whine in protest.

If it weren't for the extreme sexual tension and both of your compromising predicament, Yeosang would've cooed at how adorable you sounded.

But that wasn't his priority at the moment.

Wordlessly, Yeosang pulled you off the counter to move you to the wooden dining table. He pushed you to lie on the table as he propped a leg up to his waist.

With this new position, you could see the defined lines of his chest peeking from his pyjama when he anchored himself above you. You thanked the workout regime he had been following internally because the sight of his muscles made your pussy throb.

Yeosang immediately went back to thrusting with an animalistic pace into you, pouring every bit of emotion he had into action. You could feel it. The way he was so close to you but still maintaining a certain distance, you knew that he was hesitating. The way he was avoiding your eyes and focus on where you both were connected, yearning for intimacy but scared to initiate it. But you also know that he wanted you beyond anything else and that he was sorry. He wasn't one to be good with words but luckily you know him well enough to understand him.

As he focused on pleasuring you both, you took the chance to prop yourself up slightly and pull the rag gag off your mouth and threw it to the side.

Your hand slapped his face, stunning him for a second. As his movements halted and eyes finally meeting yours, your grabbed his face and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

He froze momentarily, not knowing what to do. But when you pulled out to speak to him, you could see that his stubbornness began to chip away and crumble.

"You don't have to feel bad about what happened, I forgave you and it's about time you forgive yourself for being a jerk to me. And I'm sorry for leaving you to take care of everyone like that, Sangie. But can we please move past all that and go back to normal?"

His once vice grip on you loosened.

At first, you thought he was going to let you go and run away.

But he suddenly pulled you up and flush against him. He hugged you tightly, burying his face on your shoulder.

"I should've been the one to apologize first. I'm sorry, I love you so much," he said lowly against your skin. You knew that it was hard for him to be so vulnerable which was why you know him saying all that meant that he was being beyond sincere.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as his wrapped around your waist.

Soon his thrusts continued.

The initial roughness and anger were replaced with longing and desperation.

Not long after, you felt that you were close to the edge. Your leg that was hoisted up on Yeosang's waist tightened and Yeosang immediately realized what it meant.

His hands slipped under your shirt to play with your chest. His fingers tweaking and pinching your nipples, adding to the pleasure that he gave. The intense arousal shot to your pussy and you clenched hard as you came.

Head thrown back, exposing your neck to him, Yeosang took the opportunity to mark you up as he liked.

The feeling of his fingers on your nipples, his mouth on your skin, and his dick still moving inside you prolonged your orgasm more than you liked. The intensity made you whine as overstimulation took over.

Luckily, Yeosang soon followed suit and released his load inside you. His hips stuttered and his teeth bit down onto your shirt-covered shoulder. You yelped at the sudden pain but the pain turned to pleasure, making your thighs shook and pussy once again clamping around Yeosang.

Yeosang let out a guttural groan that was muffled by your shoulder at the feeling, not denying how good it felt.

You both stayed there, trying to catch your breath. It was then that you registered the aftermath of your intimate activity with Yeosang. Your pants and panties had somehow stuck onto one of the drawer handles of where you were pinned down, the rag that was used as a gag had somehow made its way to the edge of the room, and Yeosang was still fully dressed.

When your eyes met his again, you see fondness and love in them, He was smiling down at you, fingers trailing down to intertwine with yours.

"What would it take me to get your full forgiveness?" he asked, head tilting to the side. His bangs moved to reveal the birthmark that he had told you a while ago he was insecure about. You leaned forward and pecked the adorable mark, making him chuckle.

"Just don't pull yourself or push me away again when things are hard, okay? The last thing I want is to almost lose you again," you told him.

He brought one of your intertwined hands to his lips and gave it a soft kiss, "there is no way on earth that you'd be able to lose me. I was actually thinking the other way around," he admitted shyly.

You bit back a giggle for his sake and opted to kiss him fully on his lips. "You would never lose me, Sangie, I belong with you, all of you," you assured him.

As he pulled himself out of you and began to clean himself up, he was reminded that the others were a room apart.

Yeosang visibly swallowed, suddenly turning nervous.

"D-do you think the others-"

"Seonghwa and San were well aware that we were having sex here, pretty sure the others heard everything as well," you said, cutting him off.

"Yeah we did! You both better clean and disinfect the heck out of the kitchen area," Seonghwa yelled out from the living room.

Hearing that, Yeosang blushed madly and moved to bury his face into your shoulder in embarrassment.

You couldn't help but laugh at him. But you wrapped your arms around him and stroked his back comfortingly.

At least you got the old Yeosang back.

taglist :

@raysanshine @peachy-maia @xuxiable @90s-belladonna @theclawofaraven @sanraes @sungiehan @felix-kithes @nycol-ie @superstarw99 @skkrtnawrskkrt @viv-atiny @the7thcrow @stfu-xeena @laurademaury @multihoe-net @daisyhwa @scoupshushushu @whyisquill @bikiniholic @yunhorights @exfolitae @simplewonderland @verycooldogblog @perfectlysane24 @hannahdinse8 @tannie13 @aka-minhyuk-kun @phebeedee @em0yunho @marsophilia @donghyuckanti27 @se-onghwa @malewife-supremacy @hyunsukream @peachyho@taejichafe @alliecoady98 @rdiamondbts2727 @hakuna-matata-ya @ohmy-fandoms @ateezminonspace @stray-bi-kids @imaaroy @fashi0nablee @rindomo @violetwinters @nabihwa @linhyyboo12 @mirror-juliet @bestboiericsohn @kpop-khh-writer-trash

[helloalycia]

a bitch [two] // leigh shaw

summary: when you finally decide to confront leigh about the incident, things don't go to plan.

warning/s: cheating, arguing, confrontation

author's note: here’s part two! hope you like it :)

part one | masterlist | wattpad

I refused to paint Leigh in the worst light, even if I'd seen her that way. She ended up staying the night at mine to pass out without being around her sister with her hangover, and I tried not to mind. I was patient for the rest of the evening and the following morning, trying not to assume the worst. But it was hard to do that when she continued to act like nothing was out of the ordinary.

My paranoia get the better of me, as whenever she got a text or slipped out for a phone call, all I could see was her and Abby making out at the party. Why hadn't she told me what happened if it wasn't what it seemed? The only explanation could be that she didn't want me to know, which meant she was hiding it, which meant she was cheating on me. Just like Alex.

It was later that following day after the party when I was sat on the dining table doing some work on my laptop and she was sat on the couch. Her phone vibrated, followed by a tone, signalling she got a text, and I tried not to writhe with discomfort in my seat. She scoffed before tossing her phone to the other end of the couch.

"What is it?" I asked, trying not to seem too interested, even though my heart was bruising.

"Nothing," she mumbled, eyes fixated on the telly.

I gave her all of my attention now, curious. "Go on, what is it? It's clearly not nothing."

She tilted her head to look at me. Sighing, she said like it was no big deal, "Drew wants me to work on a piece, but with somebody else. And you know I'm not a fan of collaborative writing."

Forcing a smile, I hummed in acknowledgement. "Who is it? The person he wants you to work with?"

Looking back to the TV casually, she shrugged. "Abby."

Just the mere mention of that girl's name in Leigh's mouth left a bitter taste in mine. And the longer I watched Leigh staring at the TV without a care in the world, oblivious to the fact that my heart was breaking because of her, the more I wanted to burst. And I eventually did.

"I know you're cheating on me," I blurted, making her look to me with a baffled expression.

"What?"

Deciding to roll with it, I closed my laptop and met her confused stare. "Don't try to hide it, Leigh, I know. I saw you last night. At the party." She continued to play dumb, so I added with distaste, "You were kissing Abby."

Leigh opened her mouth, half-gasping and half entertained as if I was suggesting the most ridiculous thing. "You're kidding, right? That's– that's what you think of me?"

I stood up quickly, glaring at her through glassy eyes. "Don't act coy. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. I tried to wait for you to explain yourself just in case I misinterpreted, but you continued to hide it. No doubt hiding every other moment you spend with her, too, right?"

Leigh's confusion was quickly replaced with anger, as she stood up from her place on the couch and walked towards me, pointing a finger my way.

"How dare you jump to conclusions like that!"

"It's not jumping!" I shouted, unable to stop my emotions getting the better of me. "It's facts!" Smiling bitterly, I shook my head, vision blurry with unshed tears. "I always had my suspicions that she liked you, but I never thought it could be the other way, too..."

Leigh's glare was fiery. She clenched her fists by her side as she studied my expression, attempting to find an explanation for this accusation. And the fact that she was still playing dumb pissed me off.

"God, everybody told me that you could be like this," I muttered between gritted teeth. "You flip-flop between emotions. The constant mood swings, an explosion that everyone gets caught up in."

She crossed her arms, shrugging sarcastically. "Don't hold back or anything. Say what you really mean."

I clenched my jaw and stared at her, tears finally flowing. How could this be the same person I was in love with?

"I shouldn't have expected any different when it came to your partners," I finished with a hurt voice.

Her eyes narrowed as my words settled in. "Fuck you."

"Well, you won't be, will you? You're too busy fucking Abby!"

"You're not even giving me chance to explain!" she shouted with irritation.

"Explain what?! How you kept this from me? How you had all day to explain and you just didn't?" I scoffed, shaking my head. "You know, sometimes you can be such a..." I searched for the right word before my frustration landed on only one. "Such a bitch."

She pressed her trembling lips together as she glowered at me through teary eyes. It stung, knowing I was the reason she was upset. But she cheated on me. I had every right to be.

"Fuck off," she said harshly, before turning to grab her phone and jacket.

Slipping on her shoes, she stuck a middle finger in the air before leaving my house. I glared at the space where she was stood, heart pounding in my ears and chest tightening with discomfort. She deserved it. She did exactly what Alex did.

But this hurt so much more.

—

I woke up late the next morning since I didn't have work and I was too devastated to do anything but stay in bed. Last night was difficult, just like the night before, and when I finally found myself falling asleep, all I dreamt of was Leigh.

Even though I didn't want to, I felt a guilt thrumming in my chest when my words came back to mind. I shouldn't have reacted so badly... and I definitely shouldn't have called her a bitch. My anger just took over, pushing away my love for her, and attacked her without question. But God, it still hurt. Just thinking about her with someone else reminded me of Alex and the voice message and–

Staying in bed sounded like the best option. But of course, the world had other plans.

My phone dinged, signalling I had a text, and I reluctantly reached over to my bedside table to pull it off charge. Through sleep-filled eyes, I tried to make out the name on the screen.

           Leigh ♥️

Suddenly awake, I swiped to open the message and felt my heart drop as I read it.

          Leigh ♥️: Fuck you.

Attached was a video, and as much as I wanted to get pissed at her text, I was curious to know what she'd sent. Playing it, I soon realised it was CCTV footage from her workplace, outside the toilets. At first, I squeezed my phone, thinking she'd sent it to rub it in my face. But then as I continued to watch, I saw the moments I missed last night.

Leigh walked out the toilet and Abby pulled her to the side, attempting to talk to her about something. There was no sound to the clip, but it was clear that Leigh was trying to back away and go elsewhere. They talked, Leigh using that smile she used when she was trying to be polite, before Abby suddenly pushed herself on her, kissing her. I pulled a face at the sight, reliving it all over again, but then Leigh shoved her away with anger.

Again, there was no sound, but I recognised that familiar Leigh wrath she subjected people to when they pissed her off. Hands were waving around as she seemed to be shouting in Abby's face, her face set into a permanent scowl as she did. Then she turned and stormed away, and the video ended.

Lowering my phone, I stared at the ceiling with a lump in my throat. She hadn't cheated, I'd just walked in on the wrong moment. Every horrible thing I'd said to her... completely uncalled for. No wonder she was angry and upset when I'd accused her – she hadn't done anything wrong.

"Fuck!" I shouted to nothing, before throwing my phone to the end of the bed with annoyance.

How the hell was I to make this right?

—

I spent the remainder of the morning trying to think of what I could do. Leigh wouldn't want to speak to me, understandably, but I had to try. It would be a terrible apology, but I couldn't just leave it. I loved her and I could only hope she'd still love me, even after every nasty thing I spat her way.

Knowing she'd be at work, I gave her boss and best friend, Drew, a call. Hopefully she hadn't told him everything I'd done otherwise he was definitely going to ignore me.

After a few rings, he finally answered and I couldn't stop my fingers from drumming against my thigh nervously.

"Y/N, thank God you rang! I was just about to call you," he said before I could build up the courage to speak.

I furrowed my brows. "You were?"

"You should come pick up your girlfriend," he said, and I figured he didn't know. "I don't know what her problem is and, don't get me wrong, I love Leigh, but I can't condone violence at the workplace."

My eyes widened so much I was surprised they didn't fall out my head. "What?!"

With a mixture of amazement and disappointment, he answered, "She punched a colleague of hers, Abby, in the face. It was so out of the blue – a solid punch to the jaw. Broke her knuckles, I think."

Jaw dropping, I forgot how to speak.

"She's at the hospital," he continued. "Thankfully, Abby isn't pressing charges – no idea why not, not that I want Leigh to get arrested obviously – but damn, there's a lot of paperwork to do and–"

"Drew!" I cut him off, worrying myself with thoughts of Leigh at the hospital by herself. "Text me the address. I'm on my way."

The drive to the hospital was agonisingly long, but I reached it quite quickly. I did attempt to call Leigh, unable to stop myself from checking if she was okay, but she didn't answer. This did nothing to ease my concern.

After making my way through the hospital, I finally arrived at Leigh's room. I let myself in, seeing her sat on a hospital bed with an ice pack covering her hand, balanced on a table. At the sight of me, she rolled her eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she muttered lowly, refusing to meet my gaze.

I stepped inside hesitantly, my guilt returning as I remembered everything I accused her off. "Drew told me what happened."

She clenched her jaw. "Well, I'm not a baby. I'm fine on my own."

Ignoring her rightful annoyance, I sighed quietly. "Really, Leigh? You punched her?"

As if realising how silly it sounded when I said it aloud, she looked the other way and stayed quiet. Her jaw was still clenched as she contained her anger.

"What's the damage?" I asked, hoping my concern wouldn't piss her off. As always, I was wrong.

"None of your damn business," she snapped, still not looking my way.

I frowned, approaching her bedside, but she still refused to look my way. "Leigh, I want to apologise, I do, but I need to make sure you're okay first."

She rolled her eyes before finally looking to me and glaring powerfully. If I hadn't experienced being in a fight with Leigh before, I would have definitely tucked tail and ran. But I'd known her long enough to know that the mask of anger she wore right now was only a cover for the hurt she felt. The hurt I'd caused her. 

"You don't need to do anything," she retorted, before nodding to the door. "You can go."

My heart pounded with guilt. "Leigh, please.”

"Sorry, I don't mean to be a bitch or anything," she cut me off bitterly, before looking away and frowning to herself.

The words I'd said to her in a moment of fury returned to mind and I'd never hated myself more than in that moment.

"You know, since Matt died, almost everyone I know called me a bitch," she revealed quietly, voice filled with pain rather than hostility. "Even my family. Especially my family. But you... you never called it me, Y/N. Not once. Not even when I deserved it."

The silence that followed her words was deafening. Why the hell did I have to call her that? Why?

Before I could even think of how to respond, the door to her room opened and in walked a doctor, holding what looked like print-outs of x-ray scans.

"Oh," he said with mild confusion as he spotted me by Leigh's bedside. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met. I'm Leigh's doctor. Doctor Syed. And you are?"

"Her girlfriend," I replied, just as she also replied, "My ex."

I gave her a stern look, accepting if she wanted to break up, but definitely not leaving her here alone.

"I'd like to stay if that's okay," I told Doctor Syed, sensing his confusion as he looked between Leigh and I, attempting to make out whatever was happening.

To my surprise, Leigh didn't argue, even when the doctor looked her way to see if she had a problem. She simply rolled her eyes, scoffed quietly, and said nothing.

Taking this as a response, Doctor Syed proceeded to explain about Leigh's injury, particularly the broken bones in her knuckle. Apparently she'd punched Abby with so much force that she'd literally broken the bone with a crack. The x-ray proved just that and gave the doctor a perfect sight of where he could fix it, thankfully, without surgery.

I waited with an unusually quiet Leigh as he put a splint and cast on her hand there and then. He then spoke about recovery times and how she was to look after herself. After writing up a prescription for pain meds and handing it to her, he quirked a brow questioningly.

"Is that all okay, Miss Shaw?" he asked.

Leigh was too busy brooding to listen, so I smiled at the doctor instead.

"I'll make sure she does that," I answered for her. "Thank you, doctor."

He nodded and returned the smile before wishing us luck and leaving. I looked to Leigh, who was quick to get up and grab her jacket, being careful with her hand. The two of us said nothing as we left the room and hospital, making our way out onto the street. Before I could ask how she was getting home, she began to walk away from me.

I groaned inwardly before following after her, stopping her from going any further. She glared across from me.

"What?" she said through gritted teeth.

"I can give you a ride home," I offered. "I parked down the street."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm fine walking."

I gave her a knowing look. "Leigh, you just broke your hand."

Realising my point, she sighed. "Fine. I'll call literally anyone but you for a ride."

Okay, I deserved that, but it still stung.

"Fine," I said, before waiting with her as she made the call.

She took a seat on the bench to the side of the road, waiting for a taxi, and I joined her, making her scoff.

"Just to make sure you get home safe," I said, when she gave me an incredulous look.

"Whatever," she mumbled, before watching the road for her taxi.

When it finally arrived, she didn't even spare me a glance before getting in and leaving. I sighed with regret, glad she was okay but realising I still hadn't had the chance to apologise to her. I was still yet to make this right.

—

It was the next day when I'd deemed it enough time to have given her space whilst also deciding I had to tell her how sorry I was before it was too late.

Building the courage to approach her front door was one thing, but knocking was another. I'm pretty sure I stared at the wood for ages before actually lifting my hand to knock. And even then, my heart was still pounding nervously in my chest.

After a moment, the door opened and revealed Leigh. But as soon as she recognised me, she made a move to close it.

"Leigh, please, wait–!" I tried, and put my foot in the doorway so she couldn't close it.

"I have nothing to say to you!" she exclaimed with irritation, glaring at me when she noticed my foot in the way. "Move it, Y/N."

"You don't have to say anything," I said with a frown and apologetic eyes. "Just hear me out. Please."

She pressed her lips together firmly, disguising her hurt with frustration. But when her eyes met mine, the pain was there and I felt guilty all over again, knowing I'd made her out to be the worst.

"I never should have said what I did," I started quickly, not wanting to lose my chance. "And I definitely shouldn't have called you a–" I winced, hating the word more than ever. "A bitch. I know you get angry when you're upset and that should've been my first indicator to knowing something wasn't right. I should've heard you out."

"But you didn't," she cut me off with a terrifyingly calm voice. "You jumped to conclusions instead. When I've never given you any reason to doubt me."

I licked my lips and looked down shamefully. She was right. "I know."

"Do you?" she asked rhetorically, a hint of resentment in her voice. "Because you jumped on me so fast that I didn't even see it coming."

Risking looking up, I saw the defensive stance she took, arms crossed judgementally and jaw tensed with annoyance.

"For the record," she added, expression softening a little, "I didn't tell you about the kiss because it meant nothing and I didn't want to upset you for no reason."

I swallowed the rising lump in my throat, the guilt thickening and squeezing the life out of me.

"I can't believe you'd think I would do something like that to you," she admitted with a heartbreaking voice, uncrossing her arms. "I love you, Y/N. I'd never hurt you like that. Never."

Squeezing my eyes shut, I pinched the bridge of my nose, memories of Alex flooding to the surface. "I know, Leigh, I know. I do."

She sighed before me. "Then why?"

Releasing my nose, I opened my eyes and was surprised at the blurriness, tears having formed. I was losing the woman I love because of my stupidity and I couldn't. I couldn't lose her. She deserved to know the truth, no matter how much it hurt.

"Do you remember my last girlfriend?" I asked reluctantly, before clearing my throat. "Alex?"

Her brows creased together with confusion. "Yes. What about her?"

Letting out an embarrassed sigh, I avoided Leigh's gaze. "We broke up because she cheated on me. With... with someone from work."

When Leigh didn't say anything, I looked up and saw her shocked expression.

"What?" she asked with disbelief. "You said it was a mutual breakup."

I pinched the skin inside my palm to feel something other than hurt and awkwardness. "I– it was easier to say that than admit the truth because the truth was– is embarrassing." Unable to hold her gaze for much longer, I focused on the door next to her. "You were going through a lot at the time, Leigh. The last thing you needed was to deal with my bullshit, too."

She frowned, trying to meet my eyes, but I was too ashamed to look her way. "You should've told me, Y/N."

I shook my head slowly. "I shouldn't have. Just like I shouldn't have assumed you'd be like her. I just– I got horribly insecure and I know that you're not her. You're nothing like her. And I shouldn't have treated you like the villain."

"No...," she began, still adjusting to my words. "No, that makes so much sense." Her good hand rested on my cheek as she forced me to look her way. "I'm so sorry that happened."

I pulled back, her hand dropping to her side, and wiped away a stray tear. I'd never meant to earn her pity – I'd done something wrong. This wasn't me earning sympathy, I just wanted her to know the truth.

"I don't want you to apologise," I told her. "I just want you to understand that I'm sorry. So sorry, Leigh. I hate that I– I ruined something good, something amazing. I never meant for this to happen," I motioned to her hand, "and I don't want you to think of me like– like– like this. Like–"

She moved forward and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me close. "I don't. I really don't."

I closed my eyes and stuffed my head into her neck, holding her tightly. She stroked the back of my hair soothingly and pressed a kiss to the side of my head.

"I forgive you," she murmured, and just like that, relief spread through me. "I'm so sorry about what happened to you. I promise I'd never to that to you. Never in a million years."

I pulled apart, wiping my tears away sheepishly whilst nodding. "I know you wouldn't, Leigh. I'm sorry for even thinking that you would."

She cupped my cheek, using her thumb to swipe away a tear. Green eyes met mine, sparkling with unshed tears that made me feel guilty because I'd never wanted to make her cry.

"I know you are," she said gently, before offering me a small smile. "Come inside, yeah? You can make it up to me by watching movies with me."

I let out a small laugh and she smiled, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to my lips before holding out her hand. I rested mine in hers and let her lead me inside, hand tingling where her skin touched mine.

Leigh Shaw was anything but a bitch. She was the most caring, considerate person I'd ever met, and when she flashed me a reassuring smile as we headed to the couch, I knew one thing.

I was lucky to have her.

[jean-kayak]

Anon request: Can I request hc’s of Issei, Ushijima, Akaashi, and Suna with a black gf that’s just gifted with da thickness? Not only does she have ass, boobs, and thighs for dayzzz but she got that wap AND gives that double twist gwak gwak thotty throat soul slurp 4000. Sis feels so good, that they would propose to her the minute they nut (regardless if they dated for a week or month).

Characters: timeskip!Matsukawa Issei, Wakatoshi Ushijima, Akaashi Keiji, Suna Rintarou

A/N: Lmao, anon, this request made me laugh, but here it is, and I’m sorry that it took so long, but i hope you like it and i hope it did good enough

🐴 This man thought he was gonna fall over the first time he saw you

🐴 He's always been a chill, smooth guy but you definitely had him off his game the first few times the both of you talked

🐴 But once he finally got to know you, he was back to being his confident self

🐴 When you started dating, he was definitely the luckiest man in the world and no one could give him a run for his money

🐴 Now your body??? He never knew which part to love the most, all of you was thicc (with multiple c's)

🐴 He watches your ass constantly. Can't take his eyes off based on the fact of how much it moves just from you walking

🐴 He'll always find a way to make you bend over, or whenever you do, his eyes are on you, watching your every move

🐴 Loves playing with your boobs and loves holding them in his hands, with barely fit in the palm of his hand

🐴 Will lay on top of you and lay his face on your chest, and this is one of his favorite ways to tease you, mouthing over the nipple through the fabric while his hand rubs over the other one

🐴 You had already floored him by how amazing you looked, but the first time you gave him head? Man thought he was in another world

🐴 He tried to warn you saying that he was massive, but you just brushed him off, taking all of him into your mouth, and he lets out a guttural moan at the sight

🐴 He busts so fast, your tongue swirling all around his length as you bop your head faster and faster. He feels his orgasm run through his body, and he almost passes out from how hard he cums

🐴 And he thought he came fast when you were sucking him off? Nothing compares to when he has sex with you

🐴 He thought you felt amazing around his fingers, so tight and hot, and you were already soaking the sheets with your slick

🐴 But when he slides into you, he almost busts before he even bottoms out, and he has to physically refrain himself from cumming so fast

🐴 He bucks into you, watching where your bodies are connected and he can't help but groan at how much of your slick is on his dick

🐴 Every thrust inside of you seems to trigger another wave of wetness until there's no more resistance and the squelching sounds are the loudest noise in the room

🐴 He cums way too fast than he normally has, his body going rigid at the same time it goes limp, falling on top of you as he shoots his seed inside of you

🐴 "Holy fuck," he slurs, his chest heaving and his heart feeling like it's going to beat out of his chest

🐴 "Good, huh?" you tease, and he nods eagerly

🐴 "I'm fucking marrying you."

🌾 He couldn't really tell at the game because of the clothes you were wearing at the time, but then he saw you in some regular clothes when he ran into you while out with Tendou, and he physically froze in the hallway

🌾 Tendou was the main reason why you both finally got together, introducing the two of you after one of their games

🌾 You walked up to them, and he couldn't even form a coherent sentence to keep the conversation going, focusing on how amazing your body was

🌾 He couldn't help but run his eyes down your figure, your words just muffled as he tries to focus his attention elsewhere, but fails horribly

🌾 He's usually oblivious to the many girls that are into him or think he's very attractive, but the only thing he could think about was you, and when you started dating, you surprised him even more

🌾 The first time he saw you in lingerie, he really thought he felt a noise bleed coming

🌾 His hands ran over your body as he found himself at a loss for words, the white a beautiful contrast to your brown skin, and he can't get over the fact at how plush your thighs are, how round your ass is, not even close to fitting in his huge hands

🌾 You sink down to your knees, and he's broken out of his trance to quickly shove his pants off his legs

🌾 You give him a few strokes, and he moves to put his hand on your head, but once you put your mouth on him, he can't even move

🌾 His hands fall beside him on the bed, as his head falls back on his neck. And he usually doesn't make many noises, but he can't help as they slip out, getting as you suck him with more fervor

🌾 He feels spineless when he cums, a loud groan filling the room as his thighs flex, his orgasm rippling through his body, making his nerve endings stand on end

🌾 And he thought your head game was good? Your pussy was even better

🌾 He had you on your back, and his eyes widen when he pulls down your thong, a huge strand of your slick connecting to the fabric

🌾 When he slides into you, he lets out the loudest moan he's ever let out, trying to control himself so he doesn't cum right then and there

🌾 His sounds send another gush of wetness covering his dick, shiny with your juices, and he pumps into you with even more enthusiasm

🌾 You even better than amazing, you feel heavenly, and he doesn't even know what to do with himself, the only thing on his mind is how wet you are and how there's nothing holding him back from thrusting inside of you

🌾 His sounds are just louder than the noises of him pumping in and out of you, and he's never been this loud before but can't help it

🌾 After a few hard thrusts, he's cumming hard and he falls over on top of you, having to crash his hands into the mattress so that he doesn't crush you

🌾 His face is buried in your neck, his hot breath fanning your neck as he tries to calm his heartbeat

🌾 "Are you okay?" you chuckle, rubbing his head

🌾 "Please marry me."

🪶 He thought you were the prettiest person he's ever seen; he couldn't even speak to you without stuttering over his words

🪶 When he first met you, he was a little bit intimidated by you

🪶 But when you started dating, he was over the moon

🪶 He practically worshipped your body, there was so much of you that he didn't know what to do with himself

🪶 You wore thigh highs one time and this man short-circuited, his brain instantly zeroing in the fat spilling over the fabric

🪶 In an instant, he had you on top of him, his face between your legs

🪶 "Shit," he moans when he sees how soaked you are, your folds inches from his face, and he dives in eating you out like it's his last day on Earth

🪶 Your juices soak his face as your huge thighs squeeze around his head, and if this is how he goes out, there's no way in hell he's complaining

🪶 He pulls you closer to his face by your hips, and you're a little worried that you might suffocate him, but he doesn't care, his hands run over your ass before gripping at the thigh highs

🪶 His face is dripping when you cum and he's rock hard in his shorts as wipes his face with his fingers, groaning at your taste

🪶 You go to return the favor, sliding down his body, and he bucks his hips up when you grind against him

🪶 He almost cums the moment you start sucking him off, starting at his angry red tip before pulling all of him into your mouth

🪶 His grip on the couch nearly rips the material as you deepthroat him, and he can't help but watch you as his moans get louder

🪶 He's never had head this good, and he already feels himself on the brink of snapping

🪶 When he cums a second later, his back is arching off the couch as he shudders, his whole body taut

🪶 His head is still running from his high, but he pushes you off of him and now he's on top of you

🪶 When slips inside of you, he feels his orgasm seconds from approaching, and he moans as he tries to wait for you

🪶 When you give him the go-ahead, he's moving, grabbing your legs and throwing them over his shoulders as he fucks you into the couch

🪶 He watches the meat of your thighs jiggle every time your bodies meet, and he digs his fingers into your skin as he tries to hold back for you

🪶 He looks down to see that you're making a wet mess on him, your thighs, the couch, and he can't hold back any longer along with the fact that he's edging himself

🪶 He curls over you when he cums, shouting at how fast and hard his orgasm washes through him, his body shaking

🪶 When he finally gets you to cum, he's falling on top of you. "When are we getting married?"

🦊 There was just so much of you that he couldn't keep his hands off of you, they never literally never left your body whenever you were together

🦊 This man thought that your body was an added bonus to dating you

🦊 He always had you in his lap, his hands moving from your ass to your thighs in a fluid motion

🦊 He always uses your boobs as a pillow, always falling asleep on your chest

🦊 Whenever you're in the car together, his hands are always rubbing your thigh giving it the occasional squeeze

🦊 The first time you give him head is when you're driving around, just killing time, and he pulls into a secluded area, and you're already on him before he even turns the car off

🦊 "Shit, baby, damn," he sighs as he puts his hand on your head, and you lick at the tip before sinking your mouth down on him

🦊 He can't even think about bucking his hips up into your mouth, only focusing on the fact at how amazing your mouth feels around him

🦊 His hand digs into the console as you bop your head faster, the grip on your hair tightening, and when you go deeper, he throws his head back

🦊 It literally felt like you were sucking the soul out of him lmao

🦊 As soon as he cums, he's pulling you into the backseat, and he quickly takes your clothes off

🦊 He just stared at you in awe, his hands running over every part of your body, not even believing that you're his

🦊 He moves his hand down, his knuckles toying at your folds and when he looks down, he scoffs at the fact that you're dripping

🦊 When he fingers you, you're slick is dripping down to his wrist, and it makes him so hard that he makes quick work of lining up to your entrance

🦊 He moans loudly when you slide down on him, your wetness soaking his dick, his balls, and when you're ready, he wastes so time thrusting up into you

🦊 Your boobs hit him in the face with every cant of his hips, and he pulls at one nipple as his hands dig into your hips

🦊 He licks in between them, tasting the saltiness of your sweat before coating them in his saliva

🦊 When he's satisfied, he buries his face in your chest as he works on pulling you down onto him

🦊 He doesn't think he's ever cum this fast, his orgasm hitting him out of nowhere, and he sees stars as he curls forward, holding you so that you don't fall

🦊 He leans back against the seat, pulling you with him, resting his head on his chest as he tries to bring his heart rate back down

🦊 "We're getting fucking married."

[wasbangtanhome]

late, late, late | KSJ

banner made by bangtanhome! (me)

Summary: Is he late? Yes. Were you mad? Yes. Was it a special day? Yes, yes, yes! You had everything prepared and you just wanted your boyfriend to come home. Now.

Pairing: Office worker!Kim Seokjin x F(Reader) | also kind of dom!Jin

Warning: 18+. Smut in the form of: pwp, provocative dress, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it hehe), oral sex (M receiving), fingering, use of the word "slut", cumming inside, impact play (ass and pussy). also he used the L word.

Word Count: 4.4k

Author's note: Short and sweet to start off my journey here on tumblr!! I hope you enjoy it and to please please let me know about any improvements. I worked really hard on it! Also my first smut fic! Also, also, there are not a lot of pet names ever since I saw the post about what Namjoon, Jungkook, Jimin, and Jin would call their lover. I got super sappy.

From the kitchen window, you have a clear view of the entrance leading to your apartment that you share with your boyfriend. The sun has set and it's well past dinner time but you have yet to see his face walking up the steps, blowing a kiss at your general direction.

You chew the inside of your cheek. He's late, you thought, peering out the window for the nth time while drying the dishes. You can't help but worry. Seokjin usually calls if he picked up an extra shift, but your phone has yet to move.

Today marks a year of the two of you living together. The year hasn't treated you kindly. A while back, your company had some budget cuts. Your department was abolished and unlike the lucky coworkers that were transferred, you were a part of the handful that received severance pay.

You figured going back to work would be easy, especially with your qualifications. However, you have yet to get a call from any of the places you applied to. With you unable to work, you spend your days maintaining the apartment. Your boyfriend, his smile ever present, told you he would just have to take more shifts.

‘You know, ______, housework is really hard to do,’ he remarked. ‘Besides, I make more than enough money to support us both.’

You smiled at your boyfriend then. It was true, there wasn’t really a need for you to go to work. You eased up on your stress over not finding work and dutifully cleaned the apartment.

You trudged your way to the entrance of the apartment. Head resting on the front door before unlocking it with your key. Seokjin was drinking tea by the window sill, looking as ethereal as ever. He noticed you had entered the apartment, smiling lovingly at you.

Before he had a chance to say hello, you broke the news about what happened during work. Instantly, your boyfriend came towards you, his smile faltering as he saw the state you were in. The fatigue in your bones left you slumped on the ground.

Seokjin did not say a word, opted to close and lock the door behind you before sinking to his knees to meet you at eye level.

‘Hey,’ he murmured softly. ‘It’s going to be okay.’

He nudged your shoulder and you fell to his embrace. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. You whimper softly as you seize his dress shirt, hot tears falling on his dress shirt, turning the color a shade darker than it was. Your knuckles turned white as your chest rose and fell rapidly, ragged breathing moaning the loss. And yet, your Seokjin rubbed circles on your back soothingly, hugging you tightly, not saying a word.

‘Sorry,’ you remembered mumbling as the coil in your stomach loosened.

‘Don’t be sorry, _____, there’s no reason for you too,’ he whispered back.

Silence fell before he piped up. ‘What do you call a bike that can’t stand on its own?’ he waggled his eyebrows when you looked at him, confused at what he’s saying. It took you a good moment to know that he was joking.

‘Two-tired!’ he exclaimed, laughing at his own joke. You smiled at your lover and before long, laughed along with him; his joy infecting your sadness.

He took out his handkerchief, wiping the streaks of tears away and giving it to you. At his gesture, you snickered before dissolving once more into tears. He had fretted then, worried that he had done something wrong.

‘I’m so lucky,’ you mumbled in tears. ‘Lucky to have you as my boyfriend, Kim Seokjin.’

He smiled softly at your comment, proceeded to pull you in his lap. ‘So, what do you want to do now?’

‘Easy,’ you sniffled, plastering a smile on your face. ‘We order fried chicken and drink!’

Seokjin had looked at you funny, surprised to hear you crave alcohol. Your smile was infectious and he ruffled your hair to agree. ‘That’s my girl!’ he exclaimed. ‘Let’s find you an even better paying job, okay?’

He was so enthusiastic, making the tragedy that happened to you that day seem so… trivial. You got drunk that night, your body not used to the alcohol.

You smile softly at the memory that happened after, your boyfriend’s hair stuck to his face, panting heavily as you came all over him. You try to push the memory away, focusing instead on your task at hand, but the damage was done- you're wet.

You chew on your bottom lip, hands traveling lower, touching your folds.

I’ll just start without him.Something nagged at your brain, and as your fingers sought out your clit, you realize how unsatisfying it would be without your boyfriend coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you.

You moan, anticipation and desperation threatening to consume you. Distracting yourself, you went through your mental checklist again. Skimpy apron? Check. Food? It’s cold because it’s been in the fridge, but check. The line that you’ve been practicing for the past few months to win over your boyfriend? Check, check, and check.

You glance again and the parking lot was empty now, its residents taking space in their respective homes. No sign of Seokjin.

You huff, grabbing your phone and pressing the on power roughly, almost causing it to clatter on the ground. Almost. Your screen flickers on and you see an image of him smiling back at you. You stuck your tongue out at his face, and punched a string of numbers you know by heart.

The line rang for a long time. You were about to let it go to voicemail. At the last second, you hear a tired voice answer you.

“Darling?” Seokjin’s voice was gruff and sleepy. You can make a mental image of him running a hand through his hair. He sounded distracted, probably looking at his spreadsheets as the numbers start to blur together.

"Hi," you try cheerfully, clearing your throat, hoping he can’t hear the anticipation across the phone. You cradle the device between your ear and your shoulder before brushing lint from your apron. "Are you coming home soon?"

Seokjin looked at his watch, knowing something was clearly bothering you. Looking at the time, he scrambled to his feet: 19:32.

"Wh-Wha--?" came the stunned response. You hear Seokjin push his chair back and the familiar beep of his computer turning off. You laugh quietly as you hear doors slam and his voice echoing in the staircase.

"Oh, _____, I'm so sorry. I had no idea what time it was," he pants, high on adrenaline trying to get home as soon as possible.

"I'm so sorry, ______. I'll be home soon. You can start eating without me, okay?"

You feel a grin paint your face, relief that he was at work. "I'm okay! You must be hungry, love. Just glad you're finally coming home. I can't wait to see you. Drive safe!" you exclaim hurriedly, knowing he won’t want to call when he’s driving.

He murmured a confirmation and you ended the call. Seokjin may be late but there’s still cause for celebration. Settling the butterflies in your stomach, you open the fridge door to take out the food you had prepared earlier, heating them up.

You finally see a familiar figure run from his parking space. His dress shirt untucked and he stopped for only a moment to blow a kiss towards you. His hair clung to his scalp, his tie was loose, and his eyes shining with adoration. You waved back quickly before seeing him disappear into the building.

Seokjin expected you to be angry, ready to apologize for coming home so late. At the very least, he expected a hug, you seemed happy enough, asking how his day was in the office. What he didn’t expect was you in an apron… wearing nothing else. His eyes roamed your body, stunned at the lack of clothes, briefcase dropping heavily on the floor.

"Are you going to close the door?" he heard you ask.

Never taking his eyes off of you, he closed and locked the door, sliding out of his work shoes. Like a deer caught in headlights, you can’t help but wonder what would happen if you approached him.

You hear him gasp as you get closer, his face incredulous. You pressed your chest towards his, relishing in his ears turning red.

"Now,” you smirk and grab a hold of his tie. “Would you like to start with dinner,"-- you croon as you fling it behind you.

"-a bath,” you say seductively as you open the first couple of buttons of his dress shirt. “-or me?" you finish, dress shirt completely unbuttoned as you watch his delicious figure.

You don't often see your boyfriend at a loss for words. But this... this was something else. Seokjin opened and closed his mouth, blinking rapidly. You hid your smile behind closed lips, enjoying the fact you’re making him squirm.

"What did you make for dinner?" he stammered, forcing a chuckle.

You waved at the table. "The works, japchae, fried chicken, corn, kimchi… You know, our favourites."

"Huh..." he managed, swallowing. Seokjin knew how hungry he was when he left the office, but he couldn't seem to focus on the steaming delicacies on the table. He turned his gaze back to you, slowly closing the distance between your lips.

"Good answer," you murmur.

"Didn't know it was a test," he whispered, dipping his head back down, claiming your soft lips once more.

You smiled into the kiss, content that he was finally home. His hands stopped trembling as it snaked lower. One hand circled your waist, the other trailing soft circles on your back. You shivered at his delicate touch, arching your back into his hand to feel more.

Seokjin seemed to understand your signal and lifted you up, making your way through the living room to reach your bed. Once you landed with a soft plop, he continued the kiss. Heat was rising to his cheeks as he fully shrugged his dress shirt off, returning shortly to connect his lips to yours.

"Jin, I can't see... it's too dark in here," you whined, feeling your skin burn where he touched your body.

You did not receive an immediate response from your beloved, only hearing the thud of a belt on the floor and you hoped his pants came off with it.

"I think it's the perfect amount of light to make you squirm," he whispers. You feel the mattress sink with his weight and the heated kiss resumes, your hands flying to tug at his hair with urgency. You start to feel feverish from the kiss, trying desperately to connect your hips to something so you can feel the first waves of pleasure. You’ve been waiting for such a long time.

He smiles at your impatience and starts tweaking your clothed nipple. "Off..." you whined, wanting the apron gone.

Seokjin slipped the shoulder straps down. You arch your back and he untied the ribbon holding everything together easily. He threw it over his shoulder and finally, his large palms directly touched your tits. He sucked on a nipple while his hands were busy, roaming every inch of your body. You moaned underneath him, thrusting your chest upwards to give him more access.

"Mmm..." you sigh as his hand travelled south and pressed onto your clit.

"You're so wet already," he released your nipple, chuckling darkly. "Have you been waiting all day? Did you want to be fucked that badly?"

You winced at his words. He continued circling your clit, waiting patiently for your answer. "Well?"

"Yes, darling," you pant out. "I have been waiting all day for you! Ah- and you were late," you whined pathetically.

He chuckled again, muttering apologies under his breath while he continues to play with your clit, your nipple back in his mouth. You knew you were going to get a real apology after you're done, but this was enough.

You felt his finger enter your pussy, testing out to see how tight you were. Your eyelids fluttered shut as he added another finger, eliciting a moan from you.

"Yeah? You like that?" came the breathy response.

Your head spun as he curled his fingers at the sensitive bundle of nerves. His thumb pressed and circled on your clit, his pace getting faster and his thrusts getting deeper.

"Jin, I'm close," you squeak out, squirming at his unrelenting force. Your high was right there, waiting for your undoing. But your boyfriend had other plans and his thrusts stopped completely before you came.

You whined, your hands tugging at his hair dangerously. Frustration swept overr your face as it turned even more crimson than his ears. "J-Jin..." you grumble weakly, catching your breath. Your cunt squeezed at nothing when he removed his fingers completely.

"Wanted to feel you cum on my dick," was his simple response.

In the fog of your pleasure, you weren't aware of his veiny cock rapidly growing harder, tip already leaking precum. You stared, dazed as he pumped his length. You also had other plans when you moved to the floor.

You licked a stripe down from the tip to the base, earning a hiss from your boyfriend. His eyes fluttering shut when you look up, his cock slowly disappearing into your mouth.

You suck lightly at first, taking care that your teeth don't make contact with his sensitive member and begin bobbing to a rhythm. He groaned as you stuffed your mouth with his cock, hands grabbing fistfuls of your hair.

"Ah- ________, ah-, can I move?" he huffed out, unable to form sentences without groans.

You moaned to signal your affirmation and he used your hair as leverage to pull you closer to the base. You struggled and gagged, feeling so fucking full. You whimper as he held you there, his head falling back with a groan.

Seokjin snapped his hips, thrusting deeper into your throat. The sensation made you moan, tears blurring your vision. He picked up the pace when he saw you, loves the view of you struggling with his cock in your mouth.

He loved to ruin you, would never admit that out loud, but seeing his lover whimper and sob because he was too big made him moan. Seokjin was holding your head in place, letting his hips do all the work. You groaned out, the vibrations on his cock almost sent him over the edge.

You knew he was close. In ragged breaths, he was saying how beautiful you were, how well you were taking his cock, how amazing you felt, and all the sweet nothings you often hear. However, when his thrusts turned messy, an indication that he was close, you shifted backwards and his beautiful cock fell out of your mouth.

"Fuck!" he cursed loudly, careening forward. He held your head in place for balance, not wanting to fall, worried he hurt you somehow. However, he was greeted with a teasing grin. "Payback, love," was all you said smugly.

You knew you shouldn’t have pushed his buttons that way. But you couldn't help it, knowing the wonderful outcome that awaits you.

He growled, anger flaring with every second that passed since you denied his release. "Bed. Now,” he muttered under his breath. You obliged at his command, though you did it slowly, never taking your eyes of him

This side of Seokjin rarely comes out to play. He was always worried he'd hurt you.

‘Yeah, that's the point,’ you snorted, recalling the memory of explaining what you wanted like he was 5.

Even still, this was a welcomed surprise. You made a mental note of how you pushed his buttons that day, hoping to recreate it in future events.

You were about to sit on the bed when you turned around, climbing on all fours instead, excited about what he would do to you.

“That’s not what I asked you to do, slut” he chuckled, waiting for you to get settled. You teased your ass, moving it closer towards his dick before pulling back.

You didn't anticipate the first slap, the sound of his palm hitting your skin filling the room. You moaned, wiggling your ass towards his face, eyes shining bright with lust.

"Ah- you like being spanked, huh?” Seokjin said, scratching his chin. “Who knew you'd this much of a slut."

You moaned at the word, loving when he said such mean things to you. Your knees buckled when the next smack wasn’t on your ass. He clicked his tongue as he watched your juices flow out from having your cunt smacked. Seokjin reached gingerly towards your clit, teasing it to ease the pain.

"Oh?" he said simply before smacking you again, this time back at your ass. He alternated between slapping your ass and your sopping cunt, the uncertainty of where the next pain would land causing you to see stars.

You whimpered and whined underneath him. Fully lying on your stomach, your ass no longer in the air. You held a pillow, moaning into it, praying the neighbors wouldn't complain about the noise. "J-Jin... please fuck me."

"Huh, I didn’t know this one could beg," he chuckled. The thought of him being with another slut left a twinge in your chest, but that jealousy subsided when he slapped you hard this time, snapping your mind from your thoughts. There was some shuffling behind you and you felt the tip of his cock on your entrance, Seokjin coating his erection with your juices.

"Shit- it's so slippery..." he said mockingly, "slipping" past your cunt. "I can't seem to get it in."

His teasing left you desperate, clinging so hard on to the pillow that your knuckles started to turn white. And just as you felt the anticipation was too much, Seokjin thrusted into you fully, his girth entering you all at once, not caring that you usually needed time to adjust to his cock.

Seokjin dragged you closer towards him, your legs off the bed. He held your neck down with his arm and thrusted hard into your cunt. Before long, you begged silently as your high approaches, hoping that this time your boyfriend would let you cum.

"Baby, I- I'm close."

"Are you now, sweetheart?" You nodded and whimpered at his question. Your voice was getting higher, moans filling your small bedroom.

And he stopped again.

You buried your face in the pillow to scream. You were so agonizingly close and he denied you just like that. Tears fall out of your eyes now, you hiccup and sob, glaring daggers at him.

Normal Seokjin would've scooped you into his arms, a myriad of apologies would spill from his mouth.

But not this time. Instead, he grabbed your hips with his muscular arms before flipping you over so you lay flat on the bed. His cock went back inside, thrusting slowly while he spun circles on your sensitive folds.

"Please-" You breathe in deep, trying to stabilize your hiccups.

"One more for me?" he asked. His voice low and husky.

You start shaking your head, pleading, no- you couldn’t do it again. You were begging him to let you cum. He continued his shallow thrusts and his attention on your clit. You sigh underneath him, overstimulated beyond belief.

"One more," he insisted and leaned close to your ear. "For one whole year of living together." He nibbled on the shell before moving down to your neck. "Please?" You moan when he sucked on the delicate flesh.

You melted into his embrace and nod. "One more."

Perhaps you should've considered longer. Perhaps it was your lust-addled brain that made you say yes. Perhaps you should not have fallen for his devilish charm. But it’s all too late now as he lay on the bed, and you climbed over him.

"Mmph..." you moan, throwing your head back while you grind your pussy on his cock. You snuck a glance below only to find seeing your boyfriend drowning in pleasure.

You leaned forward and bumped your forehead with his. Seokjin's eyes open gently. He pants quietly as he cups your face, gently stroking it with his thumb. An angelic smile spreads upon his face, love and affection in his eyes. You whined as you continue riding him, trying to chase your own high while helping him with his, picking up the pace.

You were still moving a bit too slowly for his liking so he thrusted his hips to match your movements. It sent shivers down your spine and you moan deliciously.

"Baby, I can't- ah- Jin..." you pant, bouncing and grinding on his cock, just then realizing how close you actually were. You expected the stop, but it didn't make it any easier. Your boyfriend stopped his movements and held your hips firm, causing your body to convulse.

Seokjin sat up quickly, hugging and kissing your face profusely. "You did such a good job, ______." he said, his apologies in the form of kisses. He tucked a stray hair behind your ear. "You were so pretty bouncing on my cock like that."

You sigh and smiled weakly at him, "Can I rest?" you asked meekly.

You hear him genuinely laugh. His friends always said that his laugh sounded like windshield wipers. But to you, it sounded like wind chimes dancing in the summer.

Seokjin grabbed you and laid you down on the bed gently. He turned to his side and stroked your hair. You faced him, a content smile on your face as you also stroke his cheek.

"I love you."

The sudden confession made you halt. You knew Seokjin meant it. However, he does not say I love you very often. He shows his love with physical touch and "have you eaten?" questions that make you feel so happy he cared. But hearing him say he loved you almost made you cry. Almost. You had enough tears for the day.

"I love you too, darling."

You scoot closer to kiss him, tongue asking permission to enter. He groans when they collide. Your spare hand moved down and stroked his softening cock gently but he sprung up instantly.

"I kinda blue-balled you, sorry," you broke the kiss sheepishly. Seokjin just chuckled and continued the kiss, moving on top of you.

“Are you okay for more?” he asked, back to his usual self.

You nodded enthusiastically.

His cock slid in effortlessly, your pussy already wet and stretched out enough to take him in without any discomfort. Pleasure caused your body to groan. You wanted so badly to come.

He held up both your legs and toyed with your clit. He was able to thrust easily into you. He started out slow, making sure that you were actually okay before it turned manic, his cock going in and out of you with such force.

You whined when his thumb pushed harder on your clit, feeling your walls clench at his huge dick.

His cock going deeper and deeper inside you combined with him touching your clit was all it took. You were suddenly right there, at the edge of pleasure before you snap. You yell his name, your voice getting increasingly higher. You look at him with desperate eyes.

"Cum on my cock, ____," he groaned, marveling at how tight you were getting.

He kept the pace and soon, you were moaning his name, your juices creaming his cock. You loved being filled. You were so full as your walls clenched around him.

A few more hard thrusts and he joined you in pleasure. "Ah- _____," he moaned out as your walls were painted white. You winced when you thought Seokjin was going to fall on top of you, though he caught himself at the last second.

He slid out of you with a hiss and ran to get a towel to clean you up. After he was done, the towel was placed in the laundry basket, along with all the clothes that were discarded from the floor. You roll your eyes, knowing how neat your boyfriend was.

He plopped right next to you and you cuddled closer, throwing an arm over his muscled abdomen.

"Hi," he sighed out in bliss, tucking another strand of hair behind your ear. "Happy one year anniversary of living together, my dear."

His head dipped towards your and you both nuzzle your nose at each other. "Happy one year, Jin."

"So," he started, clearing his throat. "I can tell you liked getting spanked. Push my buttons some more and maybe it'll happen more often," he laughed at his own comment., waggling his eyebrows at your direction.

This time, it was you who were at a loss for words. You shook your head, rolling your eyes before snuggling so close to him. You found the perfect spot on his chest, as always, pulling the blankets towards the both of you.

He removed himself from underneath you and stared seriously into your eyes. "I know I don't say it enough,"-- you smiled as you notice his ears turning red again-- "but I meant what I said. I do, love you, ____." He held your gaze and you found the strength to sit up slightly to kiss him.

"I know, Jin. This was enough. You are enough."

You've never seen him so giddy and he kissed your forehead again, finally settling down.

"Good night, Kim Seokjin. I’ll clean the food in the morning," you say drowsily.

"Don’t worry, let me get it. Good night, soon-to-be Kim _____," he whispered. You heard the comment but you were tired to ask what he meant. In the morning, you thought to yourself. I'll deal with that in the morning.

When you finally slept, soft snores filling the room, Seokjin got up, carefully detangling him from your arms. You protest slightly but rolled over, not waking up. He padded softly to the kitchen to put the food away. Washing his hands, he looked to the bedroom once more to make sure you were indeed asleep, before opening his briefcase.

Inside, there was a small blue box and Seokjin opened it gingerly, fearing the worst. He sighed in relief as the band reflected a light coming from outside, still intact even though he dropped it earlier. He closed the small box and placed it back in his briefcase.

Seokjin came back to the room to find you had gotten up, hands rubbing your eyes. “Where did you go?”

“Bathroom and grabbed a glass of water,” he lied casually, praying that you didn’t see anything, his heart hammering in his chest.

You mumbled something and he sighed in relief, putting on a pair of boxers before snuggling you close, kissing your forehead.

All characters depicted in this fic are 18+ and fictional.

Any resemblance is just a work of fiction.

All rights © bangtanhome.tumblr.com

Posted on 04.13.2021 at 11:11am GMT+7.